Cunning Devil

by Chris Underwood

  “Public meetings are dangerous. Too many of us show up at Ollie’s at once and we start drawing eyes.” He thrust a pile of old newspapers into my hands. “Go put these in the back room.”

  I grumbled and moaned and did as I was told.

  Alcaraz and Lilian were the first of the conclave to arrive. Lilian was there more as Alcaraz’s assistant than as a participant in her own right, but that was splitting hairs.

  They were stuck standing at the front door until Early let them in. The walls of the old Victorian were warded to the eyebrows, crammed full of protective charms, witch bottles, worn-out leather boots, and talismans of iron and silver. They kept witchcraft at bay, and also made it damn near impossible for guests to enter without being invited in.

  When Early finally gave them the okay, Alcaraz shuffled straight into the sitting room that Early had set up for the occasion and sat herself down on the best chair. Lilian came in behind the older woman, curious eyes studying the old house. She saw me and gave me the once over.

  “Where the hell have you been?” she asked.

  “Long story. You’ll hear it later.” I paused. “Sorry I couldn’t follow up the business with the hag.”

  She shrugged, but by the way her eyes clouded over, I could tell she was even more worried than she had been when she’d called. I didn’t think she was concerned for the hag’s wellbeing. Lilian needed something from the hag, and she needed it bad.

  While Alcaraz snapped open a book she’d been carrying, Lilian came over and joined me at the back of the sitting room.

  “Nice coat,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Did you get it out of the dumpster behind a thrift store?”

  “All right, all right.”

  “Seriously, you look like a homeless pirate.”

  “A pirate can’t be homeless. His home is the sea.” I mimed moving a chess piece. “Check and mate.”

  The rest of the conclave drifted in over the next hour, as the sun slowly set. It was a pretty pitiful turnout. There was a minor charm dealer who made his living telling fortunes down by the dock, and a token member of the ghoul community—if you can call that fractured mob a community. She sat in the corner, all skin and bones, gnawing on her fingernails as her eyes darted about the room.

  “How long do you think it’s been since she fed?” Lilian whispered to me. “Poor thing looks starved.”

  “Offer up your arm if you’re so concerned,” I said.

  “Ghouls only eat dead flesh.”

  “Well, cut it off then,” I said. “It’ll die soon enough.”

  Lilian frowned. “She’s not exactly a great representative to send, is she?”

  “No one likes to attend a conclave at the best of times, and Early called this one on short notice. He’s lucky anyone at all showed up.” I paused. “Probably better this way. You know what the rivalries in this town are like. Maybe we’ll save ourselves some bloodshed.”

  A few more freaks filled in the other chairs. The last person to show up was a guy I’d never seen before. In fact, he looked so out of place among the rest of us weirdos that I wondered if he’d gotten lost and was looking for directions. He had a kind of effeminate beauty to him, all narrow features and carefully sculpted blond hair. He was dressed in pastels, and to top it all off he was wearing a beige scarf.

  Lilian made a kind of purring sound when she saw him. I didn’t much like the way she was eying him. I didn’t much like it at all.

  As Early led the newcomer in, I caught the old man’s eye and shot him a questioning look. Early scratched his nose, then touched his throat as he lowered his hand.

  I looked back at the beautiful man and swore to myself as I caught Early’s meaning. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “What?” Lilian said.

  I gave a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “That’s classy. Real classy. The vampires sent a swain.”

  The man noticed me glaring at him. He shot me a smile so bright I saw stars. He strolled over, turned his smile on Lilian for a moment, then addressed me.

  “You must be Osric Turner,” he said, holding out a hand. I didn’t take it.

  “Uh-huh.”

  He let his hand fall. The smile never left his face, but his eyes were glazed and distant. “My name is Isaac. I’m afraid my mistress, Miss Lockhart, couldn’t make it to this conclave. She sent me as her representative in this time of crisis.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He paused, and somehow his smile got even brighter. “I’ll go take my seat.” He nodded once more at Lilian, then drifted away.

  “A swain,” I muttered when he was out of earshot. “Guess we know how seriously Sonja Lockhart and the rest of her brood are taking this.”

  Sonja Lockhart was the undisputed heavyweight champion of greater vampires in Lost Falls. If lesser vampires like the baiter vamp I’d fought at Alcaraz’s house were the baboons and chimpanzees of the vampire family, greater vampires were the humans. They’d overcome their more bestial urges. They could speak, think, scheme, paint pictures, appreciate Mozart.

  Greater vampires knew better than to hunt humans. That would be crass, not to mention risky. But Lockhart, like the rest of the small brood of vampires that held sway in Lost Falls, still had to feed. Which was where people like our pretty new guest came in.

  He was a swain. A human bloodslave. Beneath that beige scarf of his, I knew I’d find the puncture wounds where he’d allowed his mistress to feed. It was arousing, supposedly. Addicting. The swain became devoted to the vampire who fed on him. A real marriage made in heaven.

  It was a hell of a snub from Lockhart, sending a swain instead of one of her brood, or coming herself. Even Early wasn’t looking happy about it. Considering the fact that Early had some unpleasant history with the vampires, I couldn’t blame him.

  Finally, as the swain took his seat, Early moved to the front of the room, stroking his beard nervously. He never was any good with public speaking, even if only a handful of individuals had come to the conclave.

  “I’ll skip the formalities, since there are so few of us here,” Early said, and his eyes lingered on Isaac the swain as he said it. “There have been some troubling events in the last few days, and I’m concerned about the consequences for our community. By now I’m sure you’re all aware of the disappearance of the hag.”

  A few scattered nods answered him.

  “I’ve visited her home myself,” he said, “and she’s left no trace that I can detect. Even her familiar is missing.”

  I’d never seen the hag’s familiar myself, but I’d heard it was some kind of great bird-like creature. Well, not a creature, exactly. More like a magical construct. It was supposed to protect the hag, follow her orders, do her bidding. Wherever the hag was, the familiar wouldn’t be far away. Unless, of course, she’d died or become grievously injured. Without the hag’s magic, the familiar would soon wither and die.

  Early continued. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell anyone in this room how great the implications are. The hag has protected this town since its founding. Not out of the kindness of her heart, I’ll grant you. But whatever her motives, her presence has helped keep the rest of us safe from witch-finders and other creatures who would hunt us.”

  My eyebrows raised. That was news to me. I always knew the hag was powerful, but beyond that I’d done my best to steer clear of her.

  I kept my mouth shut about my ignorance, though. In the eyes of everyone else in this room, I was still a newcomer to this world, this community. I could do without being the butt of everyone’s jokes.

  “And of course, the hag also provides higher magical assistance to those in our community who require it,” Early continued. “Including glamours for those who wish to pass as human. We are greatly weakened by her loss.”

  “Not all of us,” Isaac said. The swain was sitting casually, his arm draped across the back of the chair. He had the kind of smile I wanted to staple to the floor.

  Early�
��s bushy eyebrows hung low over his eyes as he regarded the swain. “Your mistress is powerful, but there are things even she cannot do. With the hag gone, the vampires are exposed. As are we all.

  “But that isn’t the only reason I’ve called this coven,” Early continued, addressing the whole room again. “I believe we have a rogue element in town. Someone carrying out practices that have long been forbidden. Ozzy?” He gestured to me.

  The eyes of the room turned to me. Suddenly I wasn’t terribly excited about public speaking either. Lilian nudged me, muttering something that was probably either supposed to be encouraging or mocking. I wasn’t listening close enough to tell.

  I moved to the front of the room. Swallowing, I started to give them the Cliff’s Notes version of the story. I told them about Mills, and the job, and the betrayal, but I left out the part where I got shot. I didn’t feel much like telling a roomful of weirdos about my impending demise.

  My throat was dry when I got to the end. I fell into awkward silence, and the eyes of the room blinked at me.

  “That’s it?” said the dockside charm-seller. He didn’t seem to be alone in the sentiment. Isaac gave me a pitying grin.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” I said. “What more do you want? The hobgoblin said—”

  “It’s a hobgoblin,” the charm-seller sneered. “Who cares what it said? It has a brain the size of a Tic Tac.”

  “You think someone snatched a man’s child and used it as leverage just so he could get himself a pet hobgoblin? Someone wants that hobgoblin for something, and I’ll tell you this: it won’t be something good.”

  “You have to admit,” Lilian said, “it’s a little thin, Ozzy.”

  I stared at her. Et tu, Brute? She gave an apologetic shrug.

  “You don’t believe me,” I said.

  “Of course I do,” she said. “I’m just worried you’re jumping to conclusions. I mean, he’s not wrong.” She nodded at the charm-seller. “It’s just a hobgoblin.”

  “Forget the damn hobgoblin,” I said. “At the very least, we’ve got a changeling child out there somewhere. Maybe dead, maybe alive. That’s supposed to be strictly forbidden. Do none of you care about that?”

  “You don’t know there’s a child,” the charm-seller said. “Have you ever seen it?”

  “I saw the goddamn crib, is that good enough for you?”

  “Ozzy,” Lilian said, making soothing gestures. “Look, we’re not saying something strange didn’t happen to you. I just think we have more important things to focus on. The hag is the real concern.”

  There was a thud of a book slamming shut. Alcaraz, who barely seemed to have been paying attention during my story, laid the book she’d been reading in her lap.

  “All right, girl,” she said to Lilian. “You’ve said your piece, and embarrassed yourself enough. As have you,” she said to the charm-seller, whose face soured. “The boy is right. We would be fools to ignore this business with the hobgoblin.”

  I’ll admit, I was surprised that I was getting support from Alcaraz’s corner, but I took a great deal of pleasure in it nonetheless.

  “Wipe that smug smile off your face,” she snapped at me. “This is serious.”

  Way to burst my bubble.

  “Since when are you so concerned about the welfare of hobgoblins?” the charm-seller said to Alcaraz. “You probably have a few caged in your basement.”

  “Oh, keep silent,” Alcaraz said. “I honestly wonder how anyone confuses you for a wise man. Are you all so short-sighted? We have a missing hag, a changeling child, and a kidnapped hobgoblin. At least Early and the boy seem to realize the danger here. Hobgoblins are not smart creatures, no, but their flesh holds a great deal of latent magical residue. Far more than goblins. More than lesheys as well, perhaps even more than vampires. Creatures like this have long served as ingredients in the darkest of curses. Only a fool would ignore the signs.”

  The charm-seller sneered. “Fool? I wouldn’t throw that word out too often, Doctor. You’re the one who can’t keep her creatures from breaking out, so I hear.”

  I snapped bolt-upright, the realization striking me like 50,000 volts straight to the nipples. “Holy shit.”

  “What?” Early said. The rest of the room had paused their argument to stare at me.

  The mention of the break-in at Alcaraz’s house had sparked something in the back of my mind. Why hadn’t I made the connection before?

  “Was anyone else listening to Falls radio on Saturday evening? Nights with Alice. Anyone?”

  Isaac the bloodslave turned his grin on me. “You mean that mundy woman who tells ghost stories?” Mundy—mundane—was what some in our community called humans who were unaware of what lurked among them. It wasn’t a nice term.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I wouldn’t take that tone with me, bleeder, or Lockhart will have to find herself a new foodbag.”

  He drew himself up, his grin gone in an instant. “You threaten a swain of the most powerful vampire in—”

  “Enough!” Early said, getting between us. “Now isn’t the time.” He looked at me. “Ozzy, what is it?”

  I tore my eyes away from Isaac. “Saturday night. People were calling in to the station, talking about a big black beast out near the dam. A beast with no eyes.” I looked at Alcaraz. “Did you ever find your missing roggenwolf?”

  “No,” she said slowly. “But roggenwolves have eyes.”

  “The witness made it sound like the beast had been injured. Eyes gouged out, maybe.”

  She was quiet a few seconds, and the lines on her face seemed to deepen. She looked down at the book in her lap, tapping the cover with one nervous finger. “It is said that their eyes hold the eyelight of all those they’ve hunted. If it’s true, they hold a great deal of power. But it would be a cruel thing to do to the beast.”

  Lilian seemed to have gone a little green. The other members of the conclave were looking confused, but I turned to Early and saw he was as troubled as I was.

  “What if someone broke into Alcaraz’s specifically to get their hands on the roggenwolf?” I said. “They could have smashed open a bunch of other cages to cover their tracks, then fled with the roggenwolf.”

  Early chewed his lip and glanced at Alcaraz. “It would’ve been difficult. But not impossible.”

  “Eye of roggenwolf,” I said. “Flesh of hobgoblin. Do you think…?”

  “A curse,” he said, nodding. “A dangerous curse.”

  He swallowed, then addressed the room. “That settles it. We can’t ignore the signs. We must assume someone is planning to work some very dark magic, and until we know otherwise, we must consider them a threat.”

  “I don’t get what the big deal is,” the charm-seller said. “You two are cunning folk, aren’t you? You break curses for a living.”

  “Personal curses,” I said. “Curses that affect one person, or a family. Curses that bring disease and misfortune. Stuff like that we can deal with. This…this is bigger. Much bigger.”

  “Let’s assume for a moment that you’re right,” Isaac said, though his tone suggested he wasn’t convinced. “Someone really is working some big spooky curse. What does that mean for us?”

  Early frowned. “Best case scenario? Even if our rogue conjurer isn’t able to work the curse correctly, they’re drawing attention to themselves. Which will draw attention to us.”

  “We can deal with the mundies,” Isaac said flippantly. “My mistress has swains within the local police force.”

  “It’s not law enforcement I’m worried about,” Early said. “With the hag missing, Lost Falls is vulnerable. If the witch-finders detect this curse, who is going to keep them away?”

  A hush fell over the room. Everyone here had something to fear from the witch-finders. They were no kinder to Strangers than they were to witches and sorcerers.

  “So what’s the worst case scenario?” the charm-seller said after a moment of silence.

  Early’s eyes clouded. He stroked his beard
, thinking. “I recall an old story from the time of the witch hunts. A small, isolated community had fallen on hard times. Crops were failing, and no reason could be found. Livestock began to die in the night, the meat rotten by morning. The townspeople watched their children grow thin. Whispers of witchcraft began to spread, and panic gripped the town.

  “Suspicion fell on a young woman, a farmer’s daughter, who had a reputation for being free with her affections. As the town grew hungrier and hungrier, they turned on her. Accused her of being a witch. A posse formed one night and surrounded the house, threatening to burn the place down. In the end, it was the girl’s own father who handed her over to the crowd to be hanged.

  “The crops recovered, and the livestock stopped dying. The townsfolk congratulated themselves, thinking they’d killed the witch and ended their troubles. But the girl wasn’t the witch. It was her lover, the blacksmith’s apprentice. And when the town killed that girl, the boy found a new target for his fury.

  “At first there were disappearances. A wandering wise woman vanished between one appointment and the next. A young maiden, the same age as the woman who’d been executed, was taken from her bed. Strange howls came from the woods at night, and the dismembered corpses of unnatural beasts began to appear around the town.

  “The blacksmith’s apprentice was preparing a curse. A black curse, powered by pain and flesh. A curse that would give him the vengeance he craved.” Early paused. “It was a tax collector who found the bodies a few days later. They were lined up in rows in the town square. Hundreds of them. The whole town. Men, women, children. Just lying in the mud, eyes closed as if they were sleeping. Except for one person: the father of that young woman who’d been hanged. He’d been nailed to a tree by his wrists, his chest cracked open and his heart carved out. There were crows about, and dogs, but none of the animals would go near the bodies. They could smell the stink of witchcraft on them.” Early looked around. “That’s the kind of curse I think we’re dealing with here.”

  He let silence fill the room. Lilian let out a low whistle. No one else made a sound.