by Gini Koch
I normally didn’t waste prayer on something minor, but it had been a long night and Ralph always jumped up and down on my last nerve. Besides, if things went according to how they’d seemed, Jack was going to be here soon, and I didn’t really want to have to introduce him to Ralph.
Of course, what I wanted and what was going to happen were rarely the same thing. Yahweh didn’t waste help on the minor stuff, which was why it never paid to bother him with it. This was one reason why plenty of other gods had a lot of Necropolite followers. Zeus and his gang were all over the little stuff, for example. But experience had taught me that when it was you against the Prince, it really paid to have the god willing to get down, dirty, and personally involved on your side.
However, I wasn’t facing the Prince, I was facing the werewolf version of the entire cast of Revenge of the Nerds rolled into one. And sure enough, he was in the waiting room, at full alert. And, also sure enough, so were Ken and Jack. My ex, my hoped for, and my never gonna happen, all together in one small space. Sometimes my unlife was too good to be true.
Maurice and Amanda were there, too, and Monty and Rover. They all looked worried.
“I wasn’t hurt all that badly,” I said as Rover undulated over for pets and scritchies. As beings with no limbs, white worms unlived for the gentle scratching. I had Rover rolling around in wormy ecstasy in no time.
“Yes, we know,” Ken said briskly. “We have a new problem.”
I picked Rover up and let him drape over me. This earned me a happy smile from Monty and a glare from Ralph. Jack, thankfully, didn’t look grossed out. He looked like Ken -- worried.
“Human, undead or otherworldly?” I asked while I scratched Rover under his chin and he gave me the white worm version of a love hug. Fortunately, Monty had him well trained, so no ribs cracked and I didn’t have trouble breathing.
“We don’t know,” Ken said.
“We got things squared away at the scene of the crime,” Jack added. “But….”
“But?”
Monty sighed. “But despite our cleanup efforts, there’s a residue that shouldn’t be there.”
“Aura, deposit, signature, impression, what?”
“Aura, as best we could tell,” Ken said.
“I couldn’t see it,” Jack said. “But I could feel it. It felt evil,” he added.
“That makes sense.” I wasn’t looking directly at Ralph, but I could see him out of the corner of my eye. His tail was practically wagging itself off his body. I heaved a sigh. “This sounds like a job for us werewolves.”
I knew I didn’t sound enthusiastic, but you’d never have been able to tell from Ralph’s reaction. He was practically bounding around the room with joy. “Vic and I will go check out the scene and report back.”
Maurice snorted, big time. “As if.”
“This is a werewolf job,” Ralph snarled.
“And under chapter three, section twenty-two, paragraph fifteen of the Enforcement Codebook, no agent will go to investigate any source likely to be attached to the Prince without at least two other agents of different species.” Ken could quote the Codebook verbatim and from memory. The reason none of us hated him for it was because he only did it in cases like this.
“That means you need a vampire and a lich along,” Maurice translated snidely. “Or a zombie, but, since we don’t have one handy, you’re stuck with us. And, since we’re so dedicated to the cause and there are two of you, you luck out and get three vampires, an extremely experienced lich, a white worm and, if I’m any judge, a human along for the ride. Aren’t you lucky?”
Ralph growled. “We don’t need any of you along. A werewolf pack together can never be defeated.”
“Um, right, Ralph.” I did not want to get into this subject with him here and now. Never, really. Ralph and I didn’t see nose-to-nose on this one, and I doubted we ever would. “However, since I’m the agent in charge of this case, I say who goes along. And considering what came out of there almost kicked all of our butts and then some, I want everyone named already with us. And, if we cross any zombies, succubae, witches, warlocks, altar-demons, fairies, mummies, skellies, hellhounds, daemon cats, or any other undead species on active duty, I want them along, too.”
“As far as anyone’s ever heard,” Maurice added, “two does not a pack make.”
Ralph grumbled and growled, but I ignored him and strode out of the waiting room. Happily Amanda caught up to me before I had to stop and ask which way was out. Overachieving sense of smell or not, hospitals messed with me big time.
“Jack’s taking this really well,” she murmured to me as we walked briskly to the moving sidewalk that would take us from the hospital wing and into Central HQ.
“Yeah, I hope he’s not faking it.”
“He’s not. We all scanned him. He’s interested, but not freaked out. Probably why your police chief partnered him with you.”
“We’ll see, I guess.” I tried not to be hopeful -- interested in the whole undead thing and interested in a relationship with an undead were two different things.
We reached Central HQ, hopped off the moving sidewalk, and went to the dispatch desk. The Count wasn’t there, of course. He ran dispatch, but he ran it from higher up. He left the mundane portions of dispatch to those Enforcement personnel trained for it. Tonight we had three succubae, two banshees, and a couple of skeletons on duty. However, I wanted the being in charge.
“Is Clyde around?”
One of the banshees nodded and shrieked his name. Ralph and I just managed to cover our ears in time, and thankfully, Maurice covered Jack’s. Vampires could mute a banshee’s scream and liches and white worms were immune to it. But it was beyond painful for werewolves and humans.
“A little warning next time would be nice,” Ralph growled. I didn’t contradict him.
Clyde lumbered around from the back. He was an older mummy originally from Egypt. Amazingly, not all mummies were -- they were dotted all over the Eastern Hemisphere. But we got a steady migration -- Necropolis was considered newer and more vibrant, the place to go if you really wanted to make it as an undead and set yourself apart from the rest of the deaders. If you could make it here, you could make it anywhere, kind of thing.
Clyde had come out before it was cool, though. When Necropolis formed, centuries before, he’d volunteered to come and help get things set up, and he’d never left. He and the Count were close friends, which helped. Between the two of them, they knew everything that had gone on in and around Necropolis. H.P. had them guest lecture a lot.
“Hello, Victoria,” Clyde said slowly. Mummies spoke faster than golem, but neither were speed demons verbally. “Glad to see you back to normal.”
“Me, too.” I ignored Ralph’s grumbling about how human form wasn’t really normal for a werewolf and forged on. “Has H.P. briefed you or the Count about what we encountered tonight?”
He nodded. “Yes. Very unusual.”
“Getting more unusual. Ken and Jack found what we think is residual aura left after some heavy-duty cleanup. We’re heading back to check it out, but do you have anything for us before we go?”
Clyde was quiet for a few moments. “Take along a hellhound. And a daemon cat.”
Ralph’s growling got louder. I continued to ignore. “Who’s on duty?”
Clyde brought one of the banshees over. I covered my ears instinctively. I noted that Jack did the same. He was a fast learner.
The banshee did her shriek of the dead thing. After the sounds stopped reverberating in my head I heard the sound of toenails clicking on the marble floors. So it wasn’t a surprise to see a big cat and dog skid around the corner and come to an impressive, screeching halt right in front of me. They each put up a paw and saluted, too.
“Hansel, Gretel, good to see you, and glad you’re here.”
Jack sidled up to me. “Um, Hansel and Gretel?”
“Code names,” Hansel’s middle head said. The right and left heads usually let the middle h
ead do the talking -- it stressed other beings out a little less.
“We were really siblings, in the old days,” Gretel said in the half-snarl, half-purr that was daemon cat speech. She stood up on her hind legs and put her paw on Hansel’s middle head. “What’s the situation, Major?”
Jack looked around and then stared at me. “Major?
I shrugged. “Down here, yeah. I’ll try not be insulted by the shocked look on your face.”
“We use military titles,” Maurice said. “It makes it less confusing when we chat with humans. For example, Amanda and I are both Captains. Ken’s also a Major, because he’s an overachiever.”
“Heading fast for Lieutenant Colonel,” I added. Hey, Ken and I weren’t an item any more, but we were still friends and I was proud of him.
Jack gaped, then looked around. “Monty? And, uh, him?” he pointed to Ralph.
“I’m the Major General of Dirt Corps. I’m dotted line into Necropolis Enforcement, in that sense.”
“And Ralphie’s a Second Lieutenant,” Maurice said. “Though he acts like he’s the being in charge.”
“Werewolves don’t need ranks,” Ralph snarled. “We have a pack leader and we follow his lead.”
“Her lead,” Amanda said sweetly. “Since Vic’s the leader of this team.”
Ralph started to argue but I gave him a long look and he shut up. “Let’s get moving. We can brief Hansel and Gretel on the way.”
Chapter 11
“You know, we should get H.P.,” Amanda said. “Or at least Edgar.”
“Why Edgar?” Maurice asked. “This isn’t his specialty.”
I thought about it. “Yeah, but something’s wrong. What we did should have left no trace. But there’s a strong one if Jack can feel it.”
“Thanks a lot,” Jack said.
“Not an insult,” Ken replied. “But human senses are weaker than undead senses. If you can feel it, it’s strong.”
“Nice to know I’m the team mine canary.” At least he said it with a grin.
I activated my wrist com. “Count?”
“Yes, Agent Wolfe? Is there a reason we’re chatting or do you just feel lonely and unloved?”
“I’d like to have Edgar with us.”
There was a significant pause. “Not H.P.?”
“Well, H.P. did his thing earlier and I know he’s having fun helping indoctrinate the new recruits we bagged. Besides, something’s off, and that usually means human intervention in some way.”
“You’re the field agent in charge.” The Count didn’t make this sound like a stirring endorsement.
I pulled out the big gun. “Ken agrees with me.”
“Oh, fine.”
I hated having to do it, or admit it, but Ken was the best agent we had. He was probably the best undead in centuries. I knew the Count was grooming him to be his replacement. Even eternal undeads can crave retirement, after all.
Ken had the whole package -- handsome, brilliant, fastest learner around, photographic memory, natural leader. One of the few newer undeads who could interact naturally with the ones who’d been undead for millennia as easily as one formed the day before. Compassionate and caring without being sappy, gentle and kind while never being weak, never made someone else feel like they were less than he was unless it was necessary for his team’s survival. And yet, somehow, I’d dumped him. And didn’t regret the choice. Maurice felt there was something seriously wrong with me, and he was probably right.
“Edgar will meet you outside the OLOC,” the Count informed me.
“What’s he doing in Prosaic City?” There was a significant lack of an answer. I did the math. “H.P. was already worried and he asked Edgar to take a look, right?” The academics always stuck together.
“And this is why you’re considered our best field agent. Yes. Please proceed.” The Count actually sounded pleased. It was always nice to impress the boss. I didn’t feel like I ever did it often enough.
“Will do, over and out.” I thanked Clyde and his staff for their help, jerked my head at my team, and headed off.
“I’m getting confused,” Jack said to me as we rode the moving sidewalk back through the OLOC.
“That’s natural.”
“No. I mean, I wouldn’t have thought the three-headed dog and the cat that looks half-human would have been humans originally.”
“Oh, that. Well, it’s kind of complicated, but I’ll try to do a fast overview of Edgar’s ‘The Undead World’ class. Undeads can be made or born. The original ones were born, or hatched, or whatever.” I had no idea how white worms actually reproduced and had less interest in finding out.
“Where did they come from?”
“Depends on whose theory you agree with. Some say the Prince created them. Some say it was one or more of the gods. Some say it was an accident, sort of like life forming here in the first place.”
“So Earth’s the only planet with life on it?”
I snorted. “Hardly. But life is still rare, percentage-wise. I mean, when you consider all the universes.”
“There’s more than one universe?” Jack was starting to sound like he was getting a headache.
“Yeah. You know, let’s just focus on Hansel and Gretel for the moment. They were never human siblings. Humans don’t turn into hellhounds or daemon cats. Demons do.”
“So they’re evil?” Jack didn’t sound like he believed it, which either showed his insight or naiveté. I went for insight.
“No. Demons aren’t born evil. They’re just born in the nether realms. They have souls and so have the same choices the rest of us do -- serve the Prince or refuse and fight him. If you want to get technical, an altar-demon’s soul is pledged to a god and hell-demon’s soul is pledged to the Prince. If an altar-demon runs into a werewolf and gets bitten, then they don’t change into a wolf, because only a human base gives you a werewolf. They turn into a daemon cat or a hellhound, depending.”
“Depending on the sex?”
“No, natural proclivity. Hansel and Gretel could have both been one or the other, or switched, but this was what was ‘right’ for each of them. Good for us, by the way, because many times hellhounds and daemon cats fight like, uh, cats and dogs, but having a team of them is really helpful.”
Jack seemed to consider this. “You know, here’s something else. You call yourselves undeads. But you’re alive. I mean, you breathe, you eat, you sleep. I can understand why many of the others are undeads, but not you, or them,” he indicated Hansel and Gretel.
“Well, they stopped being otherworldly and I stopped being human. Essentially, those parts of us died. Demons, like humans, have average lifespans. Once you’re a werewolf, hellhound, daemon cat, or any of the other species we call part of the greater undead, you can unlive forever. You can be destroyed, of course -- dusted or so damaged you’re unable to function -- but it’s much harder. So, we’re part of the undead, no longer a part of the living worlds we came from.”
“That must be hard,” he said softly.
I shrugged. “It’s not too bad. There are a lot of benefits. And the undead community is pretty welcoming. Besides, the alternatives for some of us made becoming an undead very appealing.”
“Like what?”
I was saved from avoiding an answer by our arrival outside of the OLOC and the appearance of a thin, sad-looking man with a receding hairline. His face wreathed in smiles when he saw us, though.
“Victoria, my dear, I’m so relieved you weren’t badly injured.” Edgar gave me a hug, then shook hands or paws with the males, depending, hugged the females, and patted Rover. He turned and looked expectantly at Jack.
“Edgar, please meet Detective Jack Wagner, Prosaic City P.D. Jack, this is Doctor of Demonology Edgar Allen Poe.”
Jack’s mouth dropped. Edgar twinkled and gave him a sweeping bow. “At your service.”
Chapter 12
I wrapped my arm through Edgar’s and Amanda did the same. Gretel adjusted her size and jumped up on
to his shoulder. H.P. was fun and polite and fatherly; Edgar was charming, he loved the ladies, and we loved him right back.
Even though he was actually a lich, I always thought of him as a man, mostly because he was so young, as liches go, that he was at no risk of turning stone-like and none of his parts ever wobbled, let alone fell off. Monty assured me that in a few hundred years Edgar was going to stop being the ladies’ man of the lich set, but I didn’t worry about it and I knew Edgar didn’t, either.
It was always fun to see the other males’ reactions to Edgar’s effect on the females. It was nice to see that Jack seemed just as annoyed and jealous as the others. Maurice was the only one not bothered by it one way or the other.
“So, my dears,” Edgar said to me, Amanda and Gretel. “What is our plan?”
“Well, first off, what did you find at the scene?” That Edgar had already been to the scene was a given.
He shook his head. “Human intervention for certain. However, I have nothing more than that. Those with the enhanced senses of sight and smell need to weigh in.”
“Pretty much what we figured.” I looked around. “How do we want to get there?” I hoped someone else would suggest not flying.
“Well, I left our car the next street over,” Jack said. “I think the Chief would like it returned, so some of us can go in that.”
“I think everyone but the vamps can fit.” It would be cozy, but I was willing to sit right up next to Jack. Anything for the cause, me.
Ken nodded. “Sounds about right. We’ll stay with you overhead, though, just in case.”
We found the car and piled in. I made sure I was in the front seat next to Jack. Thankfully, I was joined by Edgar. Hansel “accidentally” shoved Ralph into the backseat and the others piled in. Gretel stayed small and sat on Edgar’s lap. No one other than Jack bothered with seatbelts -- a car crash wasn’t going to kill any of us unless we crashed into a silver and garlic factory made out of wooden spikes and filled with unholy water. And even then, our chances were better than average of not having any problems.