There had to be a hundred people there, easy. A few I recognized. TV personalities, music stars of various genres, couple of football players. Most I didn’t. Probably important behind-the-scenes people or something.
“Jesse, come here and meet Alec.” Gretchen beckoned me over to greet one of the few people in the world skinnier than me. “This is Alec’s house, he’s a dear friend of mine.”
Alec—his painted-on tan only serving to accentuate the age lines he was trying to hide around his eyes—shook my hand with a clammy touch, and gave me an obvious up-and-down look that was more than friendly. “Well, hello.”
“Married.” I wiggled my wedding ring at him.
“Pity.” He turned a raised brow on Gretchen next. “And you, you hussy. Running around with a married man?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “He’s a new bodyguard, Alec. Strictly professional.”
“Again, pity. Now, follow me, my dear. Adrian’s here and you must see what a mess they made of his hair.”
Gretchen gave me an apologetic smile as she was whisked away, Tai following at a distance like a big tattooed shadow.
That left me and Bobby, and the odds of witty conversation there were next to nothing. We looked at each other for about two seconds, then turned and walked in opposite directions. Luckily, mine took me toward the hors d’oeuvres table.
I had no idea what I was eating by the handful, but they were at least tasty. I ignored the glares from the catering staff as I camped at the table, and just let my gaze scan the room. Whaddya know; I was rather surprised to spot a face I knew. And not just in a “Hey, that dude is on TV” kinda way. More in a “Hey, I once punched that guy in the face” kinda way.
The last time I saw Travis Verelli, he was in a YouTube video being hauled out of a hotel room in his tighty whities and sock garters. He was an agent, and one of his clients beat him with a phone and tied him up with cords from the window blinds. Considering that he was trying to have me arrested at the time, it made me grin every time I thought of it.
“Travis! Hey, buddy!” You shoulda seen the look on that man’s face when I walked over and threw my arm around his shoulders. “Wow, you’re looking great!”
“Erm…Hi, Jesse. Been a while.” There was a deer-in-the-headlights look as he tried to decide how to react in front of his friends and colleagues. I’m guessing screaming and running like a little girl wasn’t on the list of acceptable solutions. “Didn’t know you were in town.” There was a distinct green tinge under his tan. I’ll assume he was recalling the sound of his nose crunching under my fist. That’s what I was doing, anyway.
“Only here for a few days, seeing the sights and all that. We should totally get together before I go. Catch up and all that.” Under the guise of a manly one-armed hug, I squeezed his shoulder. Hard.
“Oh yeah. Totally. I um…I still have your number, I think.” His tone said, I would rather eat a plate full of maggots, but he kept that perfect, slightly sick smile plastered in place.
“Rockin’! I’ll talk to you soon then.” I clapped him hard on the shoulder, enough to stagger him a couple of steps, and walked away, pretending like I hadn’t just wiped my greasy hand off on the back of his coat. That gave me a warm fuzzy feeling. Sometimes, evil is fun. I totally get that now.
Other than that, the party was a party. I mean, aside from the fact that no one was wearing entertaining and snarky Tshirts, it could have been a barbecue in my own backyard. Folks mingled, drank, ate. They gossiped and whispered and told bad jokes, just like my buddies, but instead of kilts and cutoff cargo pants, they did it in designer dresses and immaculately tailored suits and tuxes. Same, but not same.
A while later, as I made my way back from the restroom—which was bigger than my kitchen, I might add—I had the distinct pleasure of walking into Travis Verelli again. This time, without his cronies around, his eyes almost shot lasers in my direction. “You.” He made the word sound like the vilest of curses. “What the hell are you doing out here?”
“I think that’s none of your business, Trav.” I leaned against the paneled wall, hooking my thumbs in my pockets to give the air of total indifference. “What about you? Schmoozing more clients to beat you up?”
“I told them all about you, you know. Everyone standing out there. No one’s going to hire you. I told them just what kind of things you do.” He poked his finger in my chest. “You cost me three clients. Good money!”
I had to smirk at that. “You sure it was me? Wasn’t that Internet video of you looking like a total chump?”
I swear, he had froth coming out of his mouth he was so pissed. He got right up in my face to make sure he could spit all over me. Ugh. “You just wait. I have the right connections now, you’ll be getting your comeuppance.” Comeuppance? Who talks like that?
When he tried to jab me again, I caught his wrist, sliding his shirtsleeve up to his elbow. The damning black tattoo was there, as I knew it would be. “Shame shame, Travis. You’ve been making bad business deals.”
He didn’t try to jerk free of me, almost proudly showing off his demon brand. “You have no idea the power behind this mark. They’ll be coming for you, you know. All your kind. You’re all dead men.”
I gave his arm a yank, jerking him right up close and personal so he could hear what I had to say. “They already tried, and failed,” I growled in his ear. “You wanna try next?”
I don’t know what he would have said, because at that moment, a woman screamed. That scream was followed by more, some of fear, some shouts of anger. Something had gone very wrong out there.
The second my attention was diverted, Travis jerked free of my hold and bolted, vanishing into the recesses of the house. I had the choice of chasing him, or finding out what the hell was going on. Of course, I chose to run headlong into unknown danger. It’s what I do.
The party was in chaos when I got back out there. I saw at least three fistfights, the combatants rolling on the ground in their nice suits as they tried to pummel the crap out of each other. To my left, a finely coiffed woman reached out and snatched a handful of hair off the head of the woman next to her. The pair of them disappeared in a flurry of sequins and rage-filled screeches, the crowd around them absorbing the brawl with an air of hungry anticipation.
What the hell was this? One fight at a party I could see, but four? And where the hell was security?
Only once before had I seen something like this, a rage that spread from person to person like wildfire. A demon had caused it, last time. My demon. Axel, if this was you, I will find a way to kill you myself. In a large crowd, the hysteria could cause a riot. People could die.
Cam’s danger disk was boiling orange and red swirls when I glanced at it, and I started shoving my way through the seething throng. “Gretchen! Tai!” There was no way they were going to hear me over the shouting.
Some idiot in a tuxedo tried to take a clumsy swing at me as I crossed the room, and blinked stupidly when he found himself flat on his ass instead. After that, they cleared a path for me without really seeming to know why. Maybe in this haze of dog-eat-dog, I was the wolf they’d let pass.
I spotted Bobby first, his broad-shouldered frame clearly marking another empty space in the madness. Another wolf the little dogs were shying away from. Tai was behind him, sheltering Gretchen and Alec against the wall as all hell broke loose.
I hastened to join them when it occurred to me that Alec was the host of this party. And yet not once did he seem concerned for his guests, his property, nothing. He wasn’t on the phone, calling the cops, wasn’t trying to bring order. He wasn’t giving commands to his own security guards.
He was just looking at me, clawing my way across the battlefield that used to be a dinner party. He smiled at me once, the wrinkles around his mouth suddenly failing to follow any natural contour of his face. Even as I shouted “No!” he turned, drew back a fist, and clubbed Tai in the back of the head.
The Maori dropped like a stone, but was
almost instantly on his knees again, shaking his head groggily. Down, but not out.
Gretchen stared at her friend in astonishment. “Alec, what are you doing?!”
Alec didn’t seem to hear her. With another shove from behind, he sent Bobby sprawling and made a beeline for me. Even then, it took me a few moments to realize that the man’s face wasn’t Botoxed to hell, it was smooth. Even the wrinkles were artificial-looking, placed there rather than being earned. Artfully carved into a semblance of humanity.
“Get Gretchen out of here!” Without waiting to see if the other guys obeyed, I flicked the cap off my demon mace with my thumb and released the palm-sized canister in his face the moment he got close. It didn’t even faze him, and I was forced to retreat out of the cloud of cumin and cayenne. Okay, not a demon then.
Whatever this thing was, it was faster than the last one I’d faced, more coordinated. Not-Alec lunged for me, and I only barely ducked under one grasping arm. Somehow, I knew I didn’t want that thing getting a grip on me. As I moved past it, I kicked it square in the kidneys (if it had kidneys), using its own momentum to send it careening into the crowd. By the time it turned around, I had Mira’s pentacle charm in my hand, and the next time it grabbed for me, I caught its arm, mashing the blessed star against its bare wrist.
Nothing. No reaction at all. Not a zombie. And now I was within reach. It hammered a forearm down on my shoulder like a freakin’ anvil, and the leather bracer on that arm flared white-hot for a second. I’d almost forgotten I was wearing them. I was left with a dull ache instead of a shattered collarbone. Mira’s spells, saving me again.
My fists found its ribs, landing blows that would have dropped a human this size, but I felt only a dull thud under my knuckles. No ridges of ribs, no tight muscles, no squishy guts. What the hell was this thing? And of course, the punches had no effect. It kept advancing, like Frankenstein’s monster, inexorable. I could only dodge those grasping arms so long, and I dared one last elbow to the face before I darted out of reach again.
Again, my bracer flared hot—cooler than before, how much longer would the spell last?—and Alec’s perfectly formed nose smashed sideways…and stayed that way. The thing paused, blinking as it found one eye partially blocked by a blob of what used to be a nose.
“Oh, I got you now.” Normally, I wouldn’t kick that high. Leaving your feet in a fight is the best way to get knocked on your ass. But nothing else had made a dent, until that moment, and I needed to exploit that weakness.
With a two-step run-up, I launched a jumping side kick square into Alec’s formerly normal face, the thing staggering back a couple of paces as I landed light on my feet.
My boot left a perfect print, like I’d walked through soft mud.
Before I could ponder just what that meant, Bobby did something monumentally stupid. I’d forgotten he was there, actually, taking it for granted that they’d spirited their charge out like they were supposed to.
His arm snaked around the tall creature’s throat, putting it in a choke hold that would have meant lights out for anything else. As I’d discovered already, this thing wasn’t going to go down that easily.
“Bobby, don’t!”
My warning was too late, of course. The thing spun in Bobby’s hold, wrapping its arms around his rib cage and bodily lifting the big marine off his feet. Still, Bobby refused to let go, smashing his forehead into the thing’s mangled face twice, even as his own face was going blue.
God, I could hear his ribs cracking as the thing squeezed. The sound was louder, it seemed, than Gretchen’s screams and the distant sirens outside as help finally arrived. “Let him go!” It was me the thing wanted, dammit, not Bobby.
The only thing I could think to do was hit it until it stopped moving. The spells on my right bracer lasted exactly one hit, and caved the back of the thing’s head in. The left one lasted two more before it flared into ordinary, scorched leather, and by that point, the creature’s head was a lopsided mass of…I have no idea what. One ear was on top of what remained of its pulp of a head, the other was caved so far in I couldn’t even find it. What had appeared to be hair was now a solid mess of brownish paste, and one cheekbone jutted out at an impossible angle to the rest of the face.
Staggering on its two feet, it dropped Bobby, which was really all I’d needed. The bodyguard fell to the ground and didn’t move, blood trickling from his nose and mouth.
I expected the thing to turn and come at me again, but apparently having its head mashed into a Picasso painting was causing some problems. It turned to look at me once with its one functional eye, the other smashed closed by Bobby’s forceful head butts, then lumbered off into the chaos, tossing people from its path like they were so much kindling.
I wanted to follow. Everything in me ached to chase it down and kill it. But I didn’t know how, still, and I was pretty sure I couldn’t take it one-on-one. And we had a man down.
Gretchen was leaning over Bobby, tears streaming down her face as she tried to wipe the blood away, smearing it more than anything. “Oh God…Oh God…Bobby…” Her phone was in her hand, though, smart girl that she was, and I could tell she already had the paramedics on the way. Tai towered over them, gun drawn but pointed safely down, standing grim guard, but the lunacy that had overtaken the party guests seemed to be fading. It left behind a room full of the broken and the bleeding.
The source of the rage-inducing spell wasn’t hard to find, once I got a moment to focus. The faint hint of sulfur lead me back to the buffet table and the cans of flaming Sterno. Someone—our mashable friend if I had to guess—had placed little wooden coins in the blue flames. Most of them were destroyed already, but I managed to find one that was only half charred. On it, a demonic sigil had been etched. It was half erased by the chemical flame, but I could still feel the prickle of magic as I swiped my thumb over it. With the design altered by the burning wood, it was harmless now, but I stuck it in my pocket anyway. It was too dangerous to just leave things like that lying around.
15
Hospitals look very different when you’re not the one in the bed. The chairs are uncomfortable, the vending machines are full of stale food, and I’m pretty sure that time passes there according to no known law of physics. It might have even been running backward, and wouldn’t that be helpful? Rewind the evening and start over?
Bobby apparently didn’t have any next of kin to call, and Gretchen refused to leave until she knew if he was going to be all right. So we sat in the waiting room, watching white coats come and go, surrounded by some of the other party casualties. Someone brought Tai an ice pack for his head, once he’d made it very clear he wasn’t leaving Gretchen’s side, and after I snarled at a few of the nurses, they steered wide around me too. I guess I looked bad, but none of the blood was mine, I swear.
The most interesting event was the moment they wheeled Alec through the emergency room doors. Alec, the party host, whose head was notably not pulped beyond recognition, though he had a couple of black eyes and some swelling going on.
Sneaky thing that I was, I managed to overhear the paramedics as they handed him over to the attending physician. “Found him stuffed in a closet, beat to crap. Freakin’ crazy rich people. Probably had the whole party hopped up on something.”
They weren’t wrong, exactly. The whole party had been hopped up on something, but it was nothing that would show up in a drug test. I flipped the warped piece of wood over the back of my knuckles as I pondered it. Where did you get this, hm?
Alec—the real Alec—had been beaten and stuffed in a closet so Not-Alec could take his place. That I was pretty sure of. Impossible to know if that had happened during the party, or long before any guests arrived, but the idea had led me to several conclusions.
One—I was pretty sure Not-Alec and the centurion were one and the same creature. So, while the thought of only one enemy was comforting, the thought of an enemy that could change shapes was not. I needed to find out how to detect it sooner, sinc
e it seemed to be getting better at taking human form.
Two—My hands were covered in dried blood—Bobby’s, I was sure—but they were also covered in a layer of gray…something. It flaked off as it dried, turning to powder, just like the muck on my hands at the movie lot. I wasn’t sure what it was. It didn’t smell like anything, and tasted faintly like chalk (yes, I know that tasting it wasn’t smart, but…you do what you gotta). I saved some of it in a folded piece of paper for examination later. Whatever it was, it was connected to the creature.
Three—It wasn’t a demon. The mace would have sent him scrambling. It wasn’t one of the Yeti’s zombie pets. The blessed pentacle would have seared it like a hot brand. As the centurion, it hadn’t spoken, but as Alec it had. Unless that had been Real-Alec, instead of Not-Alec, and…a person could hemorrhage something trying to follow all the twists and turns.
When I’d touched it, there was no spark of magic, nothing I could sense. No cloves, no sulfur. Almost like it was as dull and neutral as I myself was. Inert. So it couldn’t have created the little riot-inducing coins. Not on its own, anyway. It had to have help. Something controlling it, or at least partnered with it. Something that had known, long before we arrived, that Gretchen would be at that party.
I scribbled all my thoughts down on a yellow legal pad that I’d stolen from the nurses’ station, scratching out false starts and dead ends with enough force to rip through three layers of paper. Anyone who found it would think they were the ramblings of a madman, but I had to do something to organize the buzzing in my head. I still felt like there was something missing. I had all the pieces, but they just weren’t connecting in a way that would point a big flashy arrow at the bad guy.
On the other side of the room, Gretchen shook a doctor’s hand, then came back to her seat, gathering up her purse. “Bobby’s sleeping, and probably will be for quite a while. They think he’ll be all right, but they’re still not sure what internal injuries he has. Something about watching him for crush syndrome or something. The doctor says we should go home and get a little rest, come back in a few hours.”
A Wolf at the Door Page 18