by Nazri Noor
25
When I opened my eyes, the first slivers of moonlight were just piercing through the gaps among the curtains. I’d fallen asleep just by the sill, and someone, probably Asher, had drawn the curtains for me. He and I joked a lot about murdering each other, but that was all it was.
Besides, indirect exposure to sunlight wasn’t the instant death sentence that the legends made it out to be, anyway. A vampire needed more than a couple of sunbeams to even risk meeting a second death. That squarish puddle of light on the floorboards that appears in the afternoon, the one your cat likes to nap in so much? It’d probably be enough to deliver second-degree burns with enough prolonged exposure.
A day on the beach, however, or a tinted convertible suddenly drawing back its roof on a hot day? Yeah. That was way more dangerous. Fatal, even. I looked around the room blearily, smacking my lips, comfortable under the oversized afghan throw someone, again, probably Asher, had draped over me. My eyes fluttered shut again. Just a couple of minutes more. It was nice and warm, like a gentle afternoon in the sun.
My eyes flew open. Shit. The sun. The Filigreed Masque, and the blood moon. This wasn’t any time to be relaxing. I threw the throw off my body, heading to the bathroom to get myself ready for the night, when I noticed Asher on the same couch he used as his bed, frowning against the blue light of his laptop.
I ruffled my hair, my first words of the day coming out hoarse. “Oh. You’re here. Thanks for the blanket. Gil?”
Asher nodded at the door, but didn’t look up. “On the phone, said he was gonna call the Blood of Garm. Checking in on the blood moon. So am I. Oh, and good morning.”
“Right. Morning, smart-ass. And what did you find?”
He flipped his laptop shut, leaned back, and sighed. “Not a single damn thing,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “Blood moons are pretty rare, but not to the extent that you can’t expect a few occurrences every couple of years or so. There’s all sorts of occult traditions attached to one happening, but there’s zero mention of it being celebrated in Silveropolis anywhere. You’d think there’d be something about a festival, or a pie-eating contest. Not a damn thing.”
“It’s infuriating,” I said, rubbing at my forehead. “We know something’s coming, but it’s like nobody gives a shit.”
The door creaked open, then shut. “Tell me about it,” Gil said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “I called Damien, I called Jackie, and it was the same answer. The Blood of Garm is planning a barbecue for tomorrow night. A regular one, I mean, like ribs and burgers, that’s not a euphemism. And before I went freelance, I never really celebrated either.”
“Interesting,” Asher said. “And here I thought there’d be berserk frenzies and forced transformations all over the place.”
“You’d think,” Gil said. “But a blood moon is a total lunar eclipse. The earth is right smack between the sun and the moon. Technically moonlight is just sunlight reflecting off the moon. No sunlight means no moonlight, and no moonlight means no transformation. It may as well be any other night, to a werewolf.”
“Not a big deal to vampires, either.” I thought back to my time with Vilmas, when I was still an active member of the California court. “If anything, it’s seen as a good time for us to hunt. For vampires, the perspective is pretty positive. ‘Bloody moon, feeding soon.’ It’s dumb, but that’s about it.”
“So the normals don’t know anything,” Asher said. “But neither do the local supernaturals. I don’t get it. We’ve done this all before. Quiet town, ritual killings, spooky secret cult, charismatic leader. But the puzzle is missing so many pieces. None of this fits.”
Gil slammed his fist into his open palm. “Exactly. None of it. Am I crazy? Didn’t we hear correctly at the night market? There was chatter about the blood moon, but the locals aren’t saying anything now. At least not the ones we’re talking to.”
I licked at the rim of my fangs, grimacing. “Gotta go brush my teeth, but we’ve got one lead. Not worth much, but she’s better than nothing. I mentioned the blood moon to Olivia. She said it was all local rumors and superstition, but I think she was being evasive about it. We need to pump her for more information before tomorrow night. What if another dead body turns up?”
“You know, this is all connected,” Asher said, getting up from the couch. “It has to be. These killings are ritualistic, and they’re leading up to the blood moon. We need to know why the murders are happening, and who’s behind them, and what they’re for. And we needed to know all that yesterday.”
“It’s like pulling teeth,” Gil said, heading for the door again. “I don’t even know if these people are hiding things from us at this point. Gonna get the car up and running. Five minutes, and we’re off. Down to Everett’s Exotica.”
It took less than that for me to finish getting ready, but a good wash and a quick change of clothes later we were on the road into town. The trip was silent, maybe because we were all talked out. The wheels were definitely still spinning in my head, though. I thought approaching Olivia with the subject of enthrallment would be bad enough. Now we had to get her to spill the beans, too, assuming there were any beans for the spilling.
“Couldn’t you, I don’t know, hypnotize her, Sterling? Like, Count Dracula style?”
Trust Asher to read my mind. I frowned into the rearview mirror. “That’s a hurtful stereotype about vampires. Only the really powerful ones can do that. And I’m not sure I’d want to do it, even if I could. I’m not one of those creepy Mouths that the Lorica keeps on staff.”
“Well, if not you, then maybe we give Bastion a call after this, see if we can borrow a Mouth,” Gil said.
“Leaves a bad taste in my mouth. But if that’s what it takes to make the killings stop, then that’s what we’ll do.” I patted my jacket. “I have his calling card right here. And besides – holy shit. What’s with the squad cars?”
Gil slowed as we pulled up closer to the row of shops where Olivia kept her curio store, the buildings alternately flashing blue and red. I looked around, making sure that we were in the right place, my heart thumping. What the fuck had happened here? Were we already too late?
We parked about half a block away, but one of the cars was already pulling out of the street, leaving just one in front of Everett’s Exotica.
“This is messed up,” I said, hardly waiting for the others as I stomped down the sidewalk towards the shop.
I barely knew Olivia, but that didn’t make her existence any less important. Weird to hear it from a vampire, maybe, but human life is a precious thing. The lights were on in the store, spilling out onto the sidewalk. I swung the glass door open, the warmth of the interiors washing over me, relief filling my insides when I caught sight of Olivia behind the counter, speaking to a cop. Her face lit up when she saw me, but her eyes were rimmed red, her cheeks flushed.
“Sterling? It’s such a relief to see you.”
The officer swept her eyes up and down my body, but said nothing. “We’ll keep an eye out for you, ma’am,” she said to Olivia, tipping her hat as she made her way to the door. Outside, she leaned against her vehicle with her arms folded, watching through the windows like a hawk. Her gaze locked on Gil and Asher as they entered the store.
I stepped up to the counter, relieved at least that Olivia was okay. But the cops?
“What happened here? Are you all right?”
“I am.” The tears started flowing again. “But Timothy – poor Timothy.”
My heart wrenched, my insides turned into ice. She didn’t even need to fill in the blanks. They found his body. He was the seventh victim.
Asher rushed past me, heading straight for Olivia, holding out one arm. She accepted gratefully, grasping him around the waist. Good guy Asher. Olivia looked like she could use the comfort, and for various reasons that included my hunger and mental health, I wasn’t going to be the man for the job.
Gil planted his hands on the counter, shaking his head. “This is awful. That
makes seven.”
Our eyes locked. “And that makes seven.”
Believe what you will about the occult, but there are good reasons for certain beliefs to persist. In many traditions, seven is a magical number, but not necessarily in a positive sense. There were seven days of the week, seven colors of the rainbow – but there were also seven deadly sin, and the seven demons who governed them. I glanced around warily at the dusty antiques and curios. The demon princes weren’t involved in this, were they?
Whatever else we didn’t know about the blood moon, this was reason enough to step up the investigation. We couldn’t let another night pass. My hand lingered above my jeans pocket, where my phone waited. I could hardly wait to call Bastion. He wasn’t going to cough up the Lorica’s intel easily, that was clear. But I was more open to the idea of punching arrogant sorcerers in the face than I was to hypnotizing innocent normals.
Olivia pulled herself out of Asher’s arms, patting him on the shoulder in thanks.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he said. She nodded.
“We’d closed up the fruit stand for the evening. Timothy was helping me bring the crates into the back, like he always would. He offered to walk me home, but I had to stay at the shop late tonight. Sorting inventory, whatever’s left of it here, scouring receipts, all these things I always do to keep the business afloat.” She rubbed under her eye, sniffed, then glanced around. “God, I hate this place. Maybe if we’d gone together, it wouldn’t have happened.”
Gil clasped his hands together, his expression softer. “What did happen? To Timothy, I mean?”
Olivia took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “The police said that someone heard screaming, out on the edge of town, not really far from where Timothy would usually walk on his way home. Whoever found him was either stupid or brave enough to run into the woods and try to help. But by the time they found him, it was too late.”
We waited in silence, already knowing the condition of poor Timothy’s body. Olivia inhaled, exhaled, then waved her open hand across her face.
“Something ate Timothy’s face.” Tears welled up, then rolled in beads down her cheeks. “An animal, a wolf? Something. The same as all the others. But no wolf would come so close to town. Someone would have heard snarling, or howling. Wouldn’t they? Anything. Any sign of an animal biting his – his face.”
“We’re very sorry to hear this,” Asher said. “We know he was a good friend to you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know if I was as good a friend back. He always did hope that I would give him more than a passing glance, you know? He was always so kind. I wonder how differently things would have gone if I’d just agreed, maybe to one dinner, one date. This is crazy. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about such things.”
“It’s fine,” Asher said, patting the back of her hand. “We’re at least glad that you’re safe. But Olivia, you need to help us. Be honest, and help bring Timothy’s killer to justice.”
She sniffed, wiping a tear away from the corner of her eye. “How can I help?”
I bit the tip of my tongue, then remembered that this was no time to hesitate. “When we asked you about the blood moon, you didn’t want to discuss it. We have reason to believe that some very bad people are taking local superstitions a hair too far. If you know anything at all – anything – you have to help us. You have to help us. For Timothy’s sake.”
“But what could you even do? You’re not the authorities. Who are you, really?”
I looked at the others, phrasing our role in all this the only way I could. “We’re people who can help, Olivia. Trust us on that.”
Her eyes glazed over as she stared into the middle distance, the gears in her head turning. “I can’t tell you anything that I haven’t already told the police. All those stories are just stories. Nothing like this has ever happened in Silveropolis, you understand? And then in the span of weeks, seven people murdered, just like that? I’m horrified. I’m terrified.”
Asher looked at us, then shrugged. “It’s like I told you guys. I’ve done the research, and there’s nothing. If you’re talking local stories, there’s a little mention of the witch of the woods. But that’s it.”
She pulled up a stool from behind the counter, sitting down on it, huffing as she did. “I don’t even know what to think anymore. Nothing makes sense.” She eyed the ground and chuckled bitterly. “Even the witch of the woods is just make believe, the stuff of children’s fancy.”
I looked at Gil, then at Asher warily. The woman in the hut? Was she the key to all this?
My phone rang. I jumped, surprised by the break in silence. The ring tone was loud and obnoxious, just like the contact it was attached to. My heart raced as I reached for my phone. Why was Bastion calling?
“Hello? Bastion?”
“Sterling? Come to the Twilight Tavern. There’s someone you need to see.”
26
We followed Bastion through the corridors of the Twilight Tavern. Olivia was in good hands. If anything, it was Gil, Asher, and I who needed some guidance, with the problem of the Silveropolis murders, if not with the surprisingly aggravating task of maneuvering the All-father’s beloved bed and breakfast.
Everything was too circuitous for words. I turned my head, wondering why this passage opened into a dead end, why that other one led to stairs that went straight into a brick wall. To say the gods were fickle was an understatement. The All-father could barely make up his damn mind. Even the scented candles clashed. A corridor or so ago the air smelled like Christmas and cinnamon. We turned a corner, and bam! Tropical coconut. Get it together, Odin.
Good thing we had Bastion Brandt as our guiding star. Hard to miss him, too, with the flash of leg he gave us. Tanned, because obviously the Brandts owned a yacht. Several, probably. He was wearing white shorts. What a tool. Who wore white shorts on cold mountain nights? Good thing Bastion was a useful tool.
Asher kept pace with me excitedly, jabbing his finger into my shoulder to enunciate his words. “I told you we were going to see her again.”
“Right,” Gil said. “Except that I wasn’t quite expecting to see her again so soon.”
I shook my head, grudgingly impressed by the Lorica’s consistent hyper-efficiency. Bastion wasted no time telling us that they’d caught the witch of the woods. He bragged about it over the phone shortly before dropping the call, and then he crowed about it outside the Twilight Tavern, where he waited for us to pull up, him and his stupid tanned legs.
“This was the perfect place to take her, too,” I said. “The nullification field means she can’t pull her ninja tricks on us.”
Bastion slowed down by a step, his ears pricking up. “The what, now?”
“It’s nothing. Long story.”
“Ah. If you say so. We’ve only had her here for less than an hour, just questioning her, you see. Nothing nefarious.”
I squinted at the back of his neck. That was probably true. Not even the most powerful Mouth could get past the Twilight Tavern’s enchantments, and I hadn’t really heard that the Lorica liked to resort to torture. Still, it’s probably no surprise by now that I’m no big fan of authority.
“Again, it’s interesting that you found her so quickly,” Gil said. “Was it the Eyes? Are they really that good?”
“Well, yes, and no,” Bastion said, grinning over his shoulder. “The Twilight Tavern’s a big reason for that. You don’t see much magic being worked in Silveropolis, so when something does happen, it sends up a beacon on the map, if you know what I mean. And last night, our good friend Tabitha was sending up signal flares all over the place.”
“Right,” Gil said. “All those spells.”
“Tabitha,” Asher said, repeating the witch’s name.
“Bastion,” I barked. “When you cast spells, you don’t call out their names, do you?”
He furrowed his forehead, confused. “Of course not. Remember when I dropped that hatchback on you? You didn’t hear me naming th
e spell, did you?”
I glowered at him. “Of course I didn’t. Because a whole car was falling on top of me.”
“Right, right. In some traditions, magic words are almost necessary for casting spells. Naming them, though? That’s new to me. It couldn’t hurt, I suppose. It’s called kiai in Japanese martial arts, vocalizing when you deliver an attack. It’s supposed to make you more intimidating, or help you startle your opponent.”
Well, that made sense. I don’t know about intimidating, but Tabitha shouting “Smoke bomb!” definitely startled me long enough for her smoke screen to take effect.
“Ah,” Bastion said. “Here we are, finally.”
Based on how far we’d walked, I would gauge that the trip through the Twilight Tavern could have either taken us to the top, or to the heart of the nearby mountains. You could never tell with entities and their structures. These beings didn’t pay attention to earthly laws, so why would they adhere to petty little things like logic, or physics?
This hallway smelled like spiced vanilla. It ended in a single wooden door, and in front of that door, standing like a sentinel, was all seven feet of Helga, the receptionist valkyrie.
“Helga,” I said, nodding in greeting. “Not manning the front desk today?”
“No,” she said. “One of my sisters is womanning reception tonight. Mr. Brandt here got in touch with us, and I felt that I would be most useful for this task instead.”
Bastion smiled up at her, his arrogance melted away, replaced by perfumed charm. “The Lorica really does appreciate all that you do for us, Helga.”
Helga stamped her foot once, standing to attention. “Think nothing of it, Mr. Brandt. We are happy to help maintain peace in these parts. These killings cannot continue.” She nudged her head towards the door. “Our guest has been very personable. I have accompanied her to the restroom once, but otherwise, she has not made any attempts to flee.”
I looked Helga up and down, assessing her. Those legs had a massive stride. And couldn’t valkyrie fly, too, or did they have winged horses? Either way, only someone with a death wish would try to outrun a valkyrie.