Storm Demon

by Gregory Lamberson

  The view outside the window blurred, Jake’s stomach lurched, and Laurel joined Ripper in screaming. The tornado’s roar grew so loud that Jake couldn’t hear anything else. The car settled on its shock absorbers facing the side of the highway, its windows covered with dust. The engine continued to run, and Laurel clung to the front seats. The roar moved away from them and faded.

  “Is everyone okay?” Jake said.

  “Yeah,” Ripper said.

  “I’m fine,” Laurel said.

  A sound like a thousand pebbles pouring onto concrete filled the car, and a downpour of rain washed the windows, revealing the cars racing by them.

  Peering out the back window, Jake watched stunned-looking drivers get out of the vehicles that had been scattered to the sides of the highway and inspect them for damage.

  “Follow that tornado,” he said.

  16

  Jake directed Ripper to the parking garage where he maintained a space. Ripper switched off the engine, unfastened his seat belt, and reached for his door handle.

  “Keep the doors closed,” Laurel said.

  Jake slid his arm through the loop of his shoulder holster, which he adjusted.

  “What now?” Ripper said.

  Laurel released Ripper’s seat. “Take my hand.”

  Ripper took her hand.

  “Now you can open the door. Get out and don’t let go of my hand.”

  Ripper opened his door and got out. Jake helped Laurel into the front seat so she could follow Ripper sideways. Before she got out, she offered Jake her other hand.

  Jake turned around in his seat, kneeling on it, and grasped Laurel’s hand. “I’m lucky I still have one hand.”

  Laurel got out and Jake crawled after her, using his stump for balance. His jeans were baggy on her, and she had rolled them up. Ripper handed him the car keys, and he used the remote to lock the door. The three of them stood with their hands locked.

  “Remember,” Laurel said. “Don’t let go.”

  “Don’t worry,” Ripper said.

  They walked to a metal door, opened it, and entered a stairway. The door slam echoed behind them and they climbed the stairs. They emerged on the ground level and walked outside.

  “Oh, shit,” Ripper said, echoing Jake’s thoughts.

  Dense clouds filled the sky as far as the eye could see, cottony claws poised to rake the city.

  “It could be a regular storm,” Ripper said.

  “The hell it could.” Laurel turned to Jake. “You want to go to our building? Let’s get there fast.”

  They moved down Twenty-third Street. Around them, pedestrians glanced at the sky and walked faster. Jake felt moisture and electricity in the air at the same time.

  “Keep your eyes peeled for any women standing near the building,” Laurel said. “They’ll be looking for us, and they’ll be able to see us. Stay close to the buildings so Lilian can’t see us from the Flatiron.”

  “I expect a bonus,” Ripper said.

  Jake noted the Tower gleaming against ominous black clouds. They hugged the buildings on their left, and he couldn’t see the Flatiron Building.

  Gusts of wind assailed them, pushing them backwards, and they leaned into the force, resisting it.

  Propelled by the wind, a man staggered toward them, leaning his back against the force. He slammed into Jake’s and Laurel’s hands, but they held firm and wouldn’t allow him to break their grasp. Jake moved behind Laurel like a swinging gate and the man blew by him.

  The clouds above turned green, casting an eerie pall over the sidewalk.

  “Oh no,” Laurel said.

  A funnel descended from the sky, touching down between the Flatiron building and the Tower. Garbage rose from the ground and blew out, newspaper pages floating in all directions and clouds of dust billowing away from the cyclone. Motorists slammed their brakes and honked their horns, bringing traffic to a calamitous standstill. The cars rocked on their shock absorbers. Windshields splintered and windows shattered. A woman pedaling her bicycle away from the force looked over her shoulder, then screamed as the tornado pulled her and the ten-speed end over end into its funnel.

  The tornado hurled parked cars out of its way, and a Buick flew through the air and crashed through the glass façade of the Tower’s second floor. Cars rolled across the sidewalk on either side of the street with great booming sounds. The tornado remained stationary, gyrating like a dancer, its funnel expanding.

  Scores of motorists abandoned their vehicles and ran in the opposite direction.

  Jake stood rooted to the sidewalk, debating their next move. If they ran to the building, they might reach the doors before the tornado swallowed them. If they turned and retreated, it could devour them.

  But we’re supposed to be invisible to Lilian, he thought.

  A heavy metal trash can dropped from the sky and crashed behind them.

  Ripper sprang forward. Laurel did not protest, even though she had to run barefoot on the sidewalk, and Jake followed. They headed straight toward the tornado, which lurched forward and raced in their direction, blowing through four lanes of traffic.

  Abandoned vehicles rose before Jake and his companions like a giant wave, crashing on top of each other, metal shrieking against metal. One car after another disappeared inside the twister’s vortex, only to rocket back out. An SUV sailed over the street and slammed into a UPS truck, crushing both vehicles’ front ends; a Nissan Sentra flew spinning into a corner of the New York Edition Hotel, where it flattened on impact and fell to the sidewalk below; a police cruiser shot upside down through the second floor of a building. Clouds of dust blew against the buildings, turning them chalky white.

  Jake, Lauren, and Ripper sprinted through the dust, beyond the Cajun restaurant Jake frequented, and hit a wall of resistance when they reached Laurel’s parlor. The tornado froze ahead of them, sucking a traffic cop into it.

  Gritting his teeth, Jake leaned into the wind force, dragging Laurel beside him, Ripper pulling her from the other side.

  The broken body of the traffic cop blasted out of the tornado like a missile and went through the third floor of Jake’s building.

  Jake planted one foot on the sidewalk, then the other, straining with effort.

  A Hyundai blew onto the sidewalk in front of him, producing a shower of sparks. The car sped past them, crashed into the front of Laurel’s parlor, and shattered its window.

  Circling the car meant getting even closer to the tornado. Dust and other particles struck Jake’s face. An airborne milk crate spun toward Ripper, who deflected it with his free hand, but one corner still struck the side of his head.

  Jake reached the door first and turned his back on the force. A thick layer of dust covered the glass door. He pulled Laurel close to it, Ripper bringing up the rear. Ripper had the only free hand, so he opened the door. Even as Jake pushed them inside the vestibule the tornado increased its turbulence, its roar deafening. Jake realized that through the tornado, Lilian may have seen the door open with no one standing before it.

  Ripper pressed the buzzer button, blood flowing from the gash in his head.

  A projectile exploded through the door behind them, shattering the glass pane and slamming into the wall to their left at an angle with such force that it showered them in warm liquid: human blood. The broken, shredded form of a bald man collapsed on the floor, his shattered limbs as flexible as tentacles.

  Laurel squeezed Jake’s hand, her face spattered with blood. Because Jake didn’t see a soul rise from the corpse, he knew the man had been killed inside the tornado.

  The inside door clicked and they rushed through it. Jake kicked the door shut, and a layer of dust formed over its glass panes. As he turned in the direction of the elevator, a human missile crashed through the door and slid across the floor, leaving a wide trail of blood, and came to a stop ahead of them. The alarm kicked in, adding to the cacophony of violent noise.

  “Stay out of the blood,” Jake said. “She’ll see our
footprints.”

  Still holding hands, they made their way to the elevator and ran across the narrow lobby to the stairs, which they climbed. As soon as Jake could not see the front door, Laurel released his hand and Ripper’s.

  “Lilian knows which floor your office is on,” she said, panting. “I think she drove us here so she’ll know where

  we are.”

  “We were supposed to be invisible to Lilian on the street,” Jake said.

  “We were,” Laurel said, wincing with each step. “She must have had a search spell on your car. As soon as we left it, the spell located it and she knew we were in the neighborhood.”

  The ringing alarm echoed on each floor of the building. On the fourth floor they staggered to Jake’s office. The alarm stopped as Carrie opened the door, and they ran gasping into the suite, covered head to toe in dust.

  The roar of the tornado had dwindled to nothing when Jake slammed the door and turned its locks.

  “I think it’s over.” Edgar stood at the dust-covered window.

  “You’re bleeding,” Carrie said, her voice rising at the sight of Ripper’s wound.

  “It’s nothing,” Ripper said.

  “Let me see.”

  Ripper got down on one knee and bowed his head.

  Carrie’s eyes widened. “Shit, you need stitches.”

  “Later,” Ripper said.

  Carrie embraced him. “I was so worried about you, and then that tornado came, and I was terrified you’d walk right into it.”

  “We did.”

  “You came through that?” Edgar said.

  Jake gestured at his dusty clothes. “It wasn’t easy.”

  “Who’s this?” Ripper said.

  “My partner.” Jake faced Edgar. “What’s going on?”

  “Ex-partner,” Edgar said, measuring Ripper. “Who are you?”

  “He’s my boyfriend,” Carrie said.

  Edgar looked at Jake. “I wanted to talk to you.” He shifted his gaze to Laurel and his face and voice softened. “I didn’t expect this.”

  Laurel stared at Edgar as well.

  Edgar crossed the office and stood before her. He looked her up and down, then cocked his head and blinked. “You took care of me.”

  “I’m Laurel.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Edgar embraced her. She hugged him back.

  “I’m confused,” Carrie said.

  Sirens wailed outside and Edgar released Laurel.

  “People are hurt down there,” Edgar said.

  “Some are dead,” Jake said in a weak voice.

  “We should go help.”

  Jake gestured at his companions. “We can’t right now. Leave it to the emergency response teams.”

  Edgar narrowed his eyes.

  Ripper stood. “If that tornado’s gone, I want to get out of here fast.”

  Jake looked at Laurel, who shook her head.

  “That isn’t a good idea,” he said.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” Ripper said.

  “You want us to stay here?” Carrie said.

  “You can leave,” Laurel said. “But Ripper needs to stay with us.”

  “He needs to go to an emergency room.”

  “After what just happened, the emergency rooms will be packed,” Jake said. “You’ll just end up spending the night there. We have a needle and thread.”

  “I’m not going home without my man. If he stays, I’m staying, too.”

  “Then you can sew him up.”

  “My meter’s running,” Ripper said in a prison-

  hardened tone.

  “Shut it down. I’m not charging you for protection.”

  “You’re the one who put me in danger.”

  “Let’s not play the blame game. We’ve got more important things to worry about.”

  “What’s going on?” Edgar said.

  Carrie sniffed the air and made a disgusted face. “Damn, what’s that stink?”

  “I’d like to take a shower,” Laurel said.

  Jake gestured down the hall. “The shower’s behind my office. I’ll get you some—”

  “I know where everything is.” Laurel strode across the office on bare feet, leaving bloody footprints behind her.

  Carrie made a sour face when she realized the source of the foul odor. Then she looked at Jake. “I suppose you expect me to mop that up.”

  “Later,” Jake said.

  Carrie’s expression grew more disgusted. “Boss, your eye is dirty.”

  Blushing beneath his beard, Jake faced Ripper. “I’ll get you what I owe you so far. Just wait here. Come on, Edgar.”

  Jake went into the kitchenette, where he poured tap water into a mug, then led Edgar into his office. Jake closed the door, then the bedroom door, which Laurel had left open. The number of sirens outside multiplied.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Edgar said. “You’re dressed to go behind enemy lines.”

  Jake set the mug on his desk next to a washcloth. “I’m in the middle of something.” He mixed a clear cleaning solution into the mug and used his thumb and forefinger to remove his glass eye. “I guess you could call it a new case.”

  “Say the word and I’m here for you.”

  “I appreciate it but no.” Jake dunked his eye in the water, which turned muddy. “You’ve got your hands full. Just get better and take care of Martin. Go back to work, if that’s in the cards.”

  “I don’t think it is. I don’t know if I want it to be, either.” Edgar picked up the sword from the sofa. “What are you doing with this?”

  The ATAC 3000, Jake thought, grimacing as he set his eye on the washcloth. He had forgotten the gun in the car. “It’s a gift from a friend.” He picked up a small bottle of eyedrops and applied the fluid to his empty socket.

  Edgar unsheathed the sword partway and gazed at the reflection of his eyes in the blade. “A thank-you card from Pavot Island?”

  Jake returned his glass eye to his socket. “You should be a detective.” Kneeling before the safe, he spun a dial on it. “Speaking of which . . .” Maybe he could deflect Edgar’s curiosity.

  Edgar snapped the sword in its scabbard, which he returned to the sofa. “No real surprises. Mauceri threw me into the system. Missing Persons met with me, then your friend Hammerman from IAB, then your other friend Geoghegan at MCU.”

  Jake opened the safe. “Teddy’s a real sweetheart, isn’t he?”

  “He puts the G in ‘gruff.’ I had the distinct impression he has a hard on for you.”

  “I make friends wherever I go.” Jake counted out some cash, then closed the safe. “I’ll be right back.” He went into the reception area and found Ripper and Carrie standing at her desk.

  “Here’s your balance and your bonus,” Jake said. “Good work.”

  Ripper accepted the cash without counting it. “Thanks but I’d like to go home.”

  “It isn’t safe. We all need to stay here tonight.”

  “A real pajama party, huh?”

  “At least we have food.” He looked at Carrie. “Right?”

  “Right.” Carrie picked up a note from her desk. “Lieutenant Geoghegan called earlier.”

  Jake took the note. “Thanks. Call Jackie and make sure he knows what just happened outside. Warn him there are two bodies in our lobby.”

  Two innocent people, he thought. How many more casualties had Lilian caused?

  When Jake returned to his office, Edgar stood at the wall-length cage he had occupied as a raven, swinging the door back and forth.

  “I don’t think this is legal,” Edgar said.

  “It served its purpose.”

  Turning from the cage, Edgar took an object out of his pocket and set it on Jake’s desk. “This belongs to you.”

  Jake recognized the replica Maltese Falcon that Edgar had given him when he received his private investigator’s license.

  “You gave my son a murder weapon?”

&n
bsp; Jake had used the statue to brain AK, a scarecrow sent by Katrina to kill him. AK was a former informant of Jake’s who had taken out Jake’s eye with a knife before Jake managed to crush his skull with the falcon.

  “You make it sound so twisted. You were a raven. He was lost. I gave that to him to keep his spirits up.”

  “You have no idea what it’s like to be a parent. If you had a kid I’m sure you wouldn’t give him evidence from a homicide.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Geoghegan ordered me to see the department shrink, so I did. She thinks I’m suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  “You are.” That makes two of us.

  “She wants to hypnotize me.”

  “You aren’t.”

  “Of course not, though it’s tempting.” Edgar gestured to his head. “I don’t feel like I’m all here. I don’t feel like a man. Human. I feel like something else.”

  Jake moved closer to his friend. “Miriam said it would take time. You’ve only been yourself again for less than three weeks. If I was in your shoes I’d be a drooling basket case.”

  “I wish I’d taken another month to pull myself together.”

  “It was your call to come home because you wanted to see Martin.”

  “I didn’t expect to be treated like a criminal.”

  “I told you what to expect.”

  “I never take what you say seriously.”

  The office doorbell rang, and Jake glanced at the security monitors recessed in the wall above the safe. Maria stood at the door in the hallway.

  “It’s like Grand Central here tonight,” Jake said, opening the office door.

  “The three of us need a reunion.”

  Jake hurried through the reception area just as Ripper opened the door for Maria, who registered surprise as she sized him up. She entered the office, her clothing dusty but not as bad as Jake’s and Ripper’s, and met Jake near Carrie’s desk. Ripper closed and locked the door. Jake felt Carrie staring at Maria.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Maria said to Jake.

  “I was outside minding my own business when a tornado came by.”