***
A half an hour and twelve dollars later, I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. I never should have come here. I’m not a detective. It’s something I always try to remind myself whenever I think about taking a case. I let my concern get the better of me, something that happens too often when one of my few friends is in trouble. Despite my feelings about sorcerers, I consider Scott a friend.
Like I said before, I’m no detective. I call myself a paranormal investigator. I even have a piece of paper to prove it. Don’t be too impressed by that. The damn thing isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on. It does come in handy especially around tax time. The IRS likes to be able to link your income with some sort of profession.
If you think I chase UFO’s, investigate haunted houses or hunt monsters, you would be half-right. I leave that stuff to the professionals. Most of my fellow PIs use scientific method and technology to help them investigate the paranormal. My way is a lot different. I always thought using mundane methods and tools put you at a disadvantage when dealing with the supernatural. It’s why ghost hunters and other paranormal investigators have such a hard time proving the existence of something supernatural. I’m not out to prove or disprove anything.
Early on, I realized people go to the authorities for assistance with something they think is supernatural or related to it. You might be surprised by how often this happens. Their reasons for doing so vary. It could be something as simple as a strange sound in their home to a mother afraid her son is involved with a cult conducting human sacrifice to a woman who thinks she is being stalked by a vampire. Most of the time, the authorities turn them away.
That’s where I come in. These people don’t need the help of a sorcerer or a ghost hunter. They need someone who knows or at least has an idea about whatever might be going on and how to solve the problem. Even if I can’t solve the problem, I’m fairly good at research and I probably know someone who can help them.
After a lot of trial and error, I developed a knack for the cases that need someone with my talents. Something jumps out at you when you hear the details. Something says, “Pick me, Monty! Pick me!!” It also helps having Kara around to guide me. Sometimes she can pick up on things I miss. Nine times out of ten, I end up referring my potential clients to someone else who can help them. The rest keep life interesting and pay the bills.
With the police combing the scene, there is no way I am getting up to Scott’s apartment. Even if I could, it’s unlikely I would be able to talk to him in private. I’m about ready to leave when I notice Hagan standing off to the side, well away from the police and the crowds.
Depending on how you translate it, his name means ‘the youthful one’ or ‘highborn’. He says he is immortal. I say he’s crazy, not that I’m a great judge of such things. Still the big man does come in handy from time to time. He has a love of battle and adventure reminds me of the warriors of old. So does his skill with weapons.
“Hagan” I say, trying not to smile as I give him the quick once over. “Still looking to go to Valhalla?”
He laughs before replying with his usual counter “Still hearing voices, Count?”
Hagan also knows a lot more than he should. He’s one of the few people who know about Kara. As he puts it, one of the perks of immortality is being able to learn a little about everything. In his case that includes at least six languages and enough history to lend credence to his claims. I think he spends too much time reading when he’s not out bouncing or busting heads. That was how we met, he was bouncing in a bar and I was working on my first case when literally all hell broke loose. He had the time of his life while I was scared to death. Since then, we’ve helped each other out on occasion. His muscle and willingness to use it as well as his talent for languages have made the difference. When I asked him why he’s always willing to lend me a hand, he told me I was his ticket to Valhalla. That worries me more than his presence here or the fact he is armed. Only Hagan would be crazy enough to carry a weapon around this many police. The spiked club hanging from his belt might be more legal than a sword or axe. Even with my untrained eye, I can tell the weapon has been used recently despite Hagan’s attempt to clean it. Crazy or not, like me, Hagan connected to the paranormal. He’s not a sorcerer or anything like that but he can hold his own against almost anything that lurks in the shadows. His presence here tells me what I already know. This isn’t a normal burglary.
Kara laughs at the two of us as we go through our ritual greeting probably wondering if the two of us will ever grow up. I’m sure Hagan thinks I’m as crazy as he is and Kara, well Kara has her own ideas about the two of us and our little quirks. “Tell tall, blond and handsome hello.”
“Yeah Kara says hello,” I leave out the compliment. It doesn’t pay to boost Hagan’s ego and it’s one of my quirks. I don’t call other men handsome; certain guys are a bit touchy about that sort of thing and might take it the wrong way. He turns and starts walking downtown, probably heading for one of the many bars he knows. I fall into step next to him, not bothering to ask why he’s here. I learned not to rush Hagan. He’ll say what’s on his mind when he’s good and ready, not a moment sooner. It’s another one of those so-called perks immortality has given him, the ability to waste time.
Hagan stops outside a bar with no name. Looking at the place brings to mind the phrase “Two men enter, one man leaves”. The front is decorated with twisted bits of scrap metal and things that would be more at home in a junkyard than for the streets of Manhattan. Even with the door closed, I can hear the driving beat and lyrics of Rammstein. I’m about to open the door to see what the inside is like when Hagan reaches into a pocket for something.
“Dorward is going to be busy explaining things to the police. They’re going to ask him how his visitors ended up in critical condition.”
“I’m sure you had nothing to do with that.”
By way of reply, Hagan shrugs. He doesn’t look the least bit guilty or burdened by the fact that he bludgeoned several people nearly to death a short time ago. “Anyway, when Dorward was done ranting at me, he told me to give you this.”
When I see his hand again, it is holding an antique gold ring. The stone is dark green stone and from memory, I remember the red spots resembling drops of blood that decorate its face. I make no attempt to reach for the Bloodstone. I had told Scott this thing was dangerous and I wanted no part of it. I’m not sure if Hagan can feel the power locked within it. For me, touching it is like dipping my hand into greasy water. That’s no where near as bad as tapping into its power. As far as I know, I am the only person in recent memory to do so and it’s not an experience I want to repeat.
Reluctantly, I accept the damn thing and Hagan looks relieved. As expected, the greasy sensation is there yet this time it’s stronger. Kara likes it less than I do and doesn’t hesitate to share her thoughts on the matter.
“It feels wrong.”
I’m inclined to agree with her. I glance back at Hagan waiting for the rest of it.
“Don’t give me that look. I don’t know what he was trying to do with it. He just hired me to play bodyguard,” Hagan says.
The fact Scott wanted backup doesn’t surprise me. A while back I heard he tried to do some sort of summoning and it didn’t go as planned. Since then, he prefers to have some backup when he experiments. Sometimes, he works with Sol, another sorcerer and someone else I consider a friend. Most people call him Solomon the Wise because of his extensive library and knowledge when it comes to the practical uses of magic. The fact he chose Hagan does surprise me. Scott would only hire Hagan if there was a need for cold steel and the willingness to use it.
“He was expecting trouble” Hagan says “The three gents who kicked down his door while he was doing his magic thing didn’t expect me to be there. Two of them were pushovers, the other one was an ogre. He took a little longer to deal with.”
It must not have been a very good workout for him but the ogre concerns me. There aren’t too man
y of them around. They tend to shy away from big cities. The ones that call the cities their home are rough customers who lurk in the back alleys and seedier parts of town. They possess a wide range of magical powers for blending in with their surroundings. Most like playing at being gang leaders or hired muscle.
“After the ogre took off, Dorward told me to get out of there with the ring. I think he was afraid the police might confiscate it or something. He said you would take care of it.”
Hagan steps into the bar, not bothering to say good bye or say what I already know. Call him if I need him. It makes me feel better despite the vibes I keep getting from the ring and this whole deal. What the hell has Scott gotten himself into? Whatever is going on, I’m now involved in it.
Kara remains silent as I flag down a cab. Jake’s will be the perfect place to enjoy what’s left of my night and maybe have a few questions answered. If I’m going to play babysitter this thing, I want to know more about it. Only one person can help me with that.
Chapter Three
Jake’s manages to steal the attention and clientele from all the other bars along this stretch of Amsterdam Avenue. Its dark interior sports a younger crowd but the scenery is to die for. Not only are the bartenders extremely well endowed. They also know how to make a killer margarita. The lower level has a huge dance floor where a DJ works his magic. It even earns bonus points for its lounge where you can talk and enjoy the company of friends without losing your hearing.
Tuesday night is a quiet night. There is no line to get in or cover charge. It’s still pretty crowded but not crowded enough that I have to fight my way to the bar or battle for the attention of the bartender. All in all, it’s a good place to hang out in. Tonight, I have an ulterior motive for coming here. This is one of Nerva’s favorite hangouts. I can usually find her here, breaking hearts and stealing souls on the dance floor. She collects dance partners and playmates like young boys used to collect baseball cards, always increasing her collection while discarding or trading away the ones who no longer interest her. She says she is a vampire and I believe her.
I don’t deal much with vampires. It’s unhealthy to hang around anyone or thing that views you as a potential meal. I also steer clear of most lawyers and landlords for the same reason. Yes, vampires do exist. Don’t ask me how many there are. I couldn’t tell you. I’m not a great authority on them but I’ve had enough encounters with them to know a few things about them. First off, you have to forget about all that nonsense you might have seen in the movies or on television. Contrary to popular belief, most vampires don't dress in black capes and tuxedos or sound like Bela Lugosi. They may or may not fit the more fashionable stereotypes of handsome men and beautiful women dressed in stunning black outfits. They can look like anyone you might meet on the street and they dress to individual taste. A select few are blood drinkers but that isn't the norm. Simply put, a vampire is any being who draws life and energy from another living person. Every culture has stories about vampires and the undead, each one with different powers and abilities.
Some can feed from you without your ever knowing about it. These vampires will either feed off a lot of people at once, taking a little energy from each victim or they feed very slowly from a single person. Others can and will leave you bone tired or worse a burned out corpse to be found by the authorities. What they feed on also varies; some absorb what I like to call life energy through close, sometimes intimate contact while others feed off of emotions or even dreams. The few blood drinkers I’ve run into resemble the vampires most depicted by the media.
Each vampire also has some way or talent to make sure they can attract potential meals without much of a fuss. Many are extremely charismatic while others gravitate to professions and lifestyle where they can feed without attracting attention. There was a vampire I met in St. Louis who fed on grief; he worked as a funeral director. Are they alive, dead or something else? It depends on the vampire. Most of them are alive but not in the same way you and I are.
Nerva is more alive than anyone I know. Too bad, she isn’t here yet. It’s only a matter of time before she puts in an appearance. Waiting here for her is better than trying to chase her down. It gives me a chance to relax and digest everything Hagan told me. I do some of my best thinking in bars. The steady supply of alcohol helps. Despite the noise and crowds, I can turn my thoughts inward to solve a problem with the people and events around me to serve as inspiration.
I keep saying I’m no detective but I do have some experience when it comes to solving mysteries and problems. Everyone has their own style and way of doing things. I like to look at the facts and people involved to see how they fit. The trick is to answer the big questions. What happened and where? Who was involved and why? How did it happen? For problem solving, I add another question. What is the best way to solve this? Sometimes I have to answer a few smaller questions to get the answers to the bigger ones.
I think about everything I know about my friend. Scott isn’t stupid. He knows the ring is dangerous and he’s good enough at what he does not to take any chances. So why would he mess with the ring? Kara chimes in.
“He had no choice.”
That isn’t a comforting thought. It causes me to flag down the bartender to make sure my next margarita is given an extra topping of tequila. Scott had no choice. It might explain why the Bloodstone feels so tainted.
“You should have kept it” Kara says.
“We’ve been through this before. It’s dangerous. I have no business carrying around something like this, let alone using it.”
“Scott felt you should otherwise you wouldn’t have it now.”
Sometimes, there is no arguing with her. Hagan said Scott was worried about the police confiscating the ring. Why give it to me and not Sol or another sorcerer? There is a sense of satisfaction from across the link but no answer to my question. I’m missing something. I pull out the Bloodstone to take a better look at it. The antique gold ring was made for a man. When I gave the ring to Scott, he said it was made during the Victorian era but the stone was much older. Looking at it now, I wonder how much older. The dark green bloodstone mounted on the ring looks different, not like how I remembered it. The red drops of color are more prominent on the stone’s surface. I feel dirty just touching the thing. It is enough to make me shudder. Still it had to be done. Kara’s senses are better than mine or more accurately she knows what to look for since she is using my senses when we are linked this way. Whatever sensations I am getting from the ring are probably worse for her.
“It’s gotten stronger.”
I’ve known Kara long enough to catch the sense of worry and unease she is trying to hide from me. It’s been a little over an hour since Hagan gave me the ring. I can see why Scott was worried but why give it to me? I’ll have to ask him about it when I see him.
I put the ring away and try to forget about it. Kara relaxes a bit while I sip my drink. There is just enough salt around the rim of my glass to do my margarita justice then it’s time for another one. By the third, I’ve washed the ring’s feel from my memory.
I can almost feel Kara’s lips brush my cheek. “So what do we do about it? It’s not safe for you to use.”
“I don’t want to use it,” I take a deep breath, grateful the bar is smoke-free. “I’ll talk to Sol and learn a little more about it. I want to take things slow till I know what I am dealing with.”
I was going to say destroy it but I have no idea what might happen if I was able to do so. Destroying a powerful item like the Bloodstone could have serious repercussions. No, it is better to err on the side of caution. Kara breathes a sigh of relief. She was afraid I might do something rash. I don’t know why she thinks I need the thing. Whenever I ask her why, I never get a straight answer. Worse comes to worse, I could have someone drop it in the middle of the ocean.
***
It’s almost 2 am when Nerva finally arrives. A flicker of jealousy and wariness comes across the link from Kara as I catch her a
ttention. The vampire rushes over and hugs me. During the brief moment of contact, Kara hisses spitefully. Nerva must have taken a tiny taste of me. As usual, I didn’t feel a thing. I’m too distracted by her presence.
“You’re looking good,” I say with a smile. It’s the truth. The tiny Brazilian bombshell is dressed to impress in a slinky black outfit and high heels. It shows off her body without being tight enough to interfere with dancing. She laughs as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. Nerva knows I’m fairly good at resisting her charms but I’m not immune to them. I don’t think any man could be. Its part of the game we play whenever we meet. Kara doesn’t like it and I can’t really blame her. The link has its downsides. She can tell I’m physically attracted to Nerva. I know it bothers her. Even a guardian angel no matter how patient and caring has her limits. She fumes in silence as Nerva’s teeth nip at my earlobe.
“Uh huh, you want me?”
Nerva doesn’t wait for an answer. She takes the drink out of my hand. Her tongue flicks out to lick the salt from the rim of my glass before drinking the rest of my margarita. Kara is beside herself with anger. I nearly forget why I wanted to speak to her. It wasn’t for a night of dancing and wild sex though the thought does cross my mind. That’s part of danger when dealing with Nerva. So far, I’ve managed to avoid that particular fate because no matter how much fun it would be, it’s not worth giving up what I have with Kara.
“I need to see Sol.”
Nerva nods slowly, releasing her hold on me. “Is he expecting you?”
I shake my head. Sol is a hard man to see but if anyone would know more about the ring, it would be him. Nerva acts as his personal secretary and sometime bodyguard. There are rumors their relationship is far from platonic. She knows I would only go through her if it was important. I could arrange a meet without her but it would take longer. That doesn’t stop her from enjoying herself at my expense. She sets the empty glass down and takes my hand, leading me onto the dance floor.
The Gift of Fury Page 2