Cunning Devil
Page 29
The smile I got was small and fleeting, but it was better than nothing.
“You know what this means, though, right?” I said.
“What?”
“It means I get to keep my beard. And you have to buy me dinner. I won our bet.”
She eyed me warily. “I’m a vengeful corpse, Ozzy. You sure you want to have dinner with me?”
I shrugged. “That’s nothing. In high school, I once dated a girl with no belly button. Now that’s really freaky.” I limped over and clapped her on the shoulder. “Come on. Give me a ride home, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
The Dealer was waiting for me when I got home.
He was sitting at my kitchen table, bent over my laptop, wearing a shockingly white suit. The light of the screen played across his asymmetrical face. He didn’t look up as I came in, but he raised a hand in greeting.
“My word, Osric,” he said. “Did you always fancy yourself a writer, or did you just go a little stir crazy sitting inside all day with that broken leg?”
I hobbled across the room and slammed the laptop closed. The Dealer frowned up at me.
“I was enjoying that,” he said. “I think you captured me quite well. No one has ever written a book about me before.”
“You’re a character in the book,” I said. “That doesn’t make it about you.”
“Doesn’t it?” He shrugged. “We’ll see.” He smiled, showing off teeth that were too big for his mouth. “How does it feel to still be alive, my friend? Invigorating, is it not?”
“Can’t complain.”
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I envy you humans. You live so close to death at all times. It must be thrilling.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s one word for it.”
“You should feel even more alive,” he said, “knowing that someone was sacrificed to keep you that way.” He leaned forward. “Trading your life for the witch’s wasn’t a very cunning man thing to do, though, was it?”
“It was a simple trade,” I said. “Holly Mills and I each had something the other wanted. She wanted her son to be human again. And I wanted to live. Neither of us were strangers to making hard deals.”
He grinned. “A man after my own heart. And to think, your heart nearly was my heart. Oh, well. Maybe next time. I will have to be content with owning the witch’s body for now.”
“And the power it comes with,” I said.
“That too.”
“Guess I didn’t need to give you a kidney after all,” I said. “We thwarted the curse, and Early is just fine.”
“Hmm? Oh, you’re referring to the warning I gave you. What makes you think I was talking about your recent adventure?”
“What?”
“Things are in motion now, Osric. Recent events, including the hag’s temporary disappearance, will not have gone unnoticed by certain outside powers. Powers who have an interest in this town.” He smiled. “Big things are in store for Lost Falls. I hope you’re ready, my friend.”
I stared. He was just screwing with me. For sure, this time.
I chewed my lip a second, then pulled out a chair and sat down next to the Dealer. “I do have one question.”
“Oh?”
“The Millses forced the hag to use her familiar to free the little one—the changeling child—from under the mountain, yeah?”
“As I understand it.”
“But the hag played a little trick on them, as she likes to do. She set the little one loose instead of handing it over to Brandon Mills.”
“Correct.” The Dealer’s smile widened.
“So how did the little one get into Alice’s basement? Seems like a hell of a coincidence.”
“It does, doesn’t it? I suppose when you’re writing your book, a coincidence like that might seem unbelievable.” He tapped his fingertip on the table, then clicked his fingers. “Perhaps it was the hag. She could’ve bewitched the little one, sent it to your sister’s house.”
“There’s no indication anyone but Likho laid a spell on that boy,” I said. “I’ve checked.”
“That is a conundrum, then, isn’t it?”
“Unless someone else found the changeling,” I said, “And led it to Alice’s basement. Knowing I’d be the one to capture the creature. Perhaps it was the same someone who ensured my name and phone number were given to Brandon Mills.”
“And you think this someone is?”
I just stared at him.
“Me?” He cocked his head to the side. “Why would I do anything like that?”
“Fun, maybe. Because you wanted to torment me.” I licked my lips. “Or maybe because you were hoping I’d succeed in stopping the Millses from casting the curse.”
The Dealer smiled and shrugged. “Well, it’s certainly a possibility. But you know, I think there’s nothing wrong with keeping a little mystery in your story. I think your readers will enjoy it.”
He rose, making to leave. I grabbed my crutch and pushed myself to my feet as well.
“Speaking of mysteries,” I said, holding up the grimoire Lilian had given me. “What can you tell me about this?”
He peered at the book, sighed, and shook his head. “Osric, you know I don’t give out information for free. And I’m afraid you just can’t afford what I know about that book.”
“Whoever gave it to her must’ve had a reason,” I pressed. “Is it possible another of your kind traded it to Holly Mills?”
He waggled his finger at me. “What did I just say?”
“Hey. The way I see it, you owe me. The deal we made was that I could trade my life for something of equal value. Well, you got Holly Mills’ body. Now, I’ll grant you, she’s not as pretty as me, and she’s lacking a few limbs. But the power she can wield, that’s worth a hell of a lot more. From where I’m standing, you came out of this pretty damn well. I think I deserve a…a…” I waved my hand in the air, trying to think of the right word.
“A kickback?” he suggested.
“Yeah. Exactly.”
Smiling, he rested his hand on my shoulder. “It’s already done. I took the liberty of giving it to you while you were sedated at the clinic. I would never cheat a friend, Osric.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
He pulled on his hat. “Take care, my friend. And send me a copy of your book when you finish.”
“Hey, wait. Dealer. What are you talking about?”
But he just smiled once more, then disappeared out the door. I didn’t bother chasing after him this time.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered. “What the hell did you mean by…?”
I trailed off as a sudden thought came to me. I raised my hand to my head, touched the scar tissue on the left side of my scalp. It had been a little tender there the last few days. I’d thought I must’ve hit it when the witch broke my leg. But maybe…maybe…
I threw the mysterious grimoire onto the table. It could wait. First I had to check something.
I hurried to my piano and lifted the fallboard. Cringing in anticipation, I touched one of the keys.
The sound. It was…
It was music.
I stood in stunned silence for a moment, listening to the sound as it slowly faded. I didn’t know what the note was, or whether the piano was in tune, or how to turn that one sound into a melody.
But it was there. It was real. I could hear it.
With a strangled cheer, I pulled down the box of dusty music books sitting on top of the piano. I tossed them aside one by one, littering my living room with them.
Until I found it. A thin, purple book, designed for kids. On the front cover, a cartoon rabbit played piano beneath the title: My First Piano Book.
I flipped it open to the first page, set it on the stand, and sat down on the stool. Trembling, I put my fingers on the keys where the book told me.
“Middle C,” I read, grinning like an idiot. “Middle fucking C.”
I got started. I had a lot to learn.
&
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chris Underwood spends an unhealthy amount of time in his imagination. Luckily, his wife and daughter are very tolerant. He writes the kind of urban fantasy he has always loved: stories set in a perilous, darkly beautiful worlds filled with magic, monsters, and just a touch of hope.
He has a science degree and a postgraduate diploma, both of which look very nice on the wall of his office. That’s about all they are useful for.
You can find him on Facebook or contact him at: chris@chrisunderwoodbooks.com
www.chrisunderwoodbooks.com
Table of Contents
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About the Author