J.L. Doty - Dead Among Us 01 - When Dead Ain’t Dead Enough
Page 19
He marched up to her indignantly, closed the distance between them to a hand’s breadth. “Until you and your friends came along, nobody ever tried to kill me before. And your father still wants to. So forgive me if I choose paranoia over death.” The elevator doors started to close and he blocked them with an arm.
“That’s not true,” she said. “He’s trying to help you.”
They both stepped out of the elevator sidestepping and still facing each other. He lowered his voice. “As far as I’m concerned, among all you magic people, you’re the only one hasn’t tried to kill me. That’s why I’m here. I need help with this crap, and you’re the only one I can trust.”
She considered that for a moment, then tossed her head toward her car. “Ok. Get in my car. We’ll go to my place.”
He followed her to her car, a rather expensive looking Jaguar. She got in behind the wheel and he climbed into the passenger seat. She fumbled in her purse for a moment, came up with a cell phone and flipped it open.
He grabbed her wrist. “Who’re you calling?”
“My father. He’s been looking all over for you.”
“Of course he has. He wants to kill me.”
“Let me call him and I’ll prove that’s not true.”
He shook his head adamantly. “No. No one knows where I am until I know I can trust them. If you don’t like that then I’m out’a here. I’ll disappear on my own.”
She looked at his hand holding her wrist and her eyes narrowed unhappily, clearly demanding he let go, so he did. “I mean it,” he added.
She nodded. “All right, as long as you’re with me I won’t let anyone know where you are without your permission. Girl scouts honor. But I do have an idea. I might be able to prove to you my father’s not trying to kill you.”
Mikhail watched the Jaguar pull out of the garage, right on time like every weekday evening. Except this time the young woman had a passenger, a man with shoulder length hair. He hadn’t paid particular attention to the fellow that walked into the garage only a few feet behind the young woman. After all, the fellow had come from a different direction and was probably just another patron of the garage. And he hadn’t gotten a good look at the fellow’s face, just his backside and the shoulder-length hair. And, because of the glare from the car’s windows, he hadn’t gotten a good look at the passenger’s face as the car sped past. But he was almost certain it was the same fellow who’d followed her into the garage.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Karpov’s number. “Da,” a heavy voice answered. Alexei. The man was a stupid bear, though stupid bears could be quite dangerous, could maul you rather badly.
“I have important information for Mr. Karpov,” Mikhail said in Russian.
“You can tell me.”
Stupid bear, dangerous bear. “Mr. Karpov instructed me to talk to him personally if I had news of the young man. I don’t want Mr. Karpov to be unhappy with me. Do you want him unhappy with you?”
There was a long moment of silence then the bear growled, a low rumbling from deep in his throat. Again, silence for several seconds, then Karpov said, “Mikhail, what is it?”
“I think I just saw the young man leave with the Old Wizard’s daughter, a passenger in her car.”
“You think?”
This was a dangerous moment. If he didn’t say this properly, Karpov might assume he’d been negligent, and other men had lost their lives for less. Mikhail told him about the young man with long hair that followed her into the garage.
“Describe him,” Karpov demanded.
“Thirtyish, six feet, two hundred pounds, trim waist, looks like he’s in good shape. I’m certain it was the same fellow in her car. But he had long hair, shoulder-length, nothing like the man you described.”
“Any fool can buy a wig. It’s him. Get your car and go to her place, don’t let him leave until I get there. If he tries to leave, stop him, but don’t kill him. Not yet.”
“Yes, Mr. Karpov.”
“And Mikhail . . . you did good.”
“Thank you, Mr. Karpov.”
Belinda was an excellent sorceress, and Baalthelmass was quite pleased with her. It took considerable power to retrieve Trogmoressh from the Netherworld, but she was up to the effort. Of course, since the Tertius had spent more than a week in the Netherworld it had lost all its power, but more importantly it had lost all control. It could no longer maintain a glamour, and a ravenous need to feed ruled it completely. It would’ve gone on a killing spree as soon as she released it from her circle, devoured her and perhaps a half-dozen more souls before gaining any self-control. But by then it would be too late. The local mortal sorcerers would be alerted to its presence, would band together and hunt it down, and they’d do more than merely banish it, they’d destroy it, annihilate it completely.
But when Belinda released her circle the outcome was different because Baalthelmass was there to subdue the Tertius. Belinda had acquired, and Baalthelmass had enthralled, a half-dozen mortals for Trogmoressh’s initial feeding. Baalthelmass locked them in a cellar with the Tertius and released their enthrallment so they could experience the feeding without its sedative effects. And the screams as the Tertius devoured their souls awakened Baalthelmass’ own hungers, but It suppressed Its desires, keeping the greater prize in mind. It had taken a full day, but the Tertius was now ready to maintain a glamour, and to hunt.
“You’ve tasted the young witch before,” Baalthelmass said. “At the hospital.”
Trogmoressh had chosen to adopt the image of the young Lord-of-the-Unliving.
Baalthelmass made the Tertius meet Its eyes. “You may taste her again, but only a little. Only enough to weaken her, enough to subdue her, to enthrall her and bring her back to me. If you lose control and consume her, or you fail in this task in any other way, I’ll feed you back to the Netherlife myself.”
The Tertius bowed its head. “I’ll not fail you, master.”
With a light touch Baalthelmass imparted to the Tertius the knowledge of the location of the young witch’s home. “Go. Night approaches, so you may hunt without hindrance.”
When the Tertius had gone It turned to the sorceress. “You’ve done well, my dear Belinda.” It reached out and touched her cheek. She quivered, threw her head back and gasped. Trembling in the throes of ecstasy, she so completely lost control she slowly sank to her hands and knees rather than fall to the floor, then laid down. For several seconds she laid there grunting and panting as waves of pleasure washed through her, and when it finally ended she laid there struggling for breath.
Baalthelmass said, “A little reward for you, my dear. But when you’ve recovered enough, I want you to bring the young Lord to me. Use whatever resources you have. By all means use your body, if you so choose, for certainly the mortals find you attractive enough, and that is one of your best assets. Use your body and take enjoyment of it, but bring him to me. Bring him back whole and only a little damaged and your reward will be ecstasy beyond imagining. Fail and I’ll feed you to the Tertius.”
Clearly, money ran in the McGowan family. Katherine owned one of the larger places in the Sunset district south of Golden Gate Park. It was one of those three-story fifties homes, with half the bottom floor taken up by the luxury of an enclosed garage. From the outside, even in the dark, Paul could tell the place had been extensively renovated. And the inside looked like it had been gutted, then completely rebuild and redecorated.
Katherine marched across the living room, threw the magazine and her purse casually on a large couch, then turned and pulled off her coat as she disappeared through a doorway that must be the master bedroom. “Make yourself at home,” she shouted at him from the bedroom. “There’s beer and wine in the fridge, or make a pot of coffee if that’s your preference. I’ll take white wine. Pour me a glass while I change into something more casual.”
Paul found some white wine in the refrigerator and glasses in the cupboard. He poured two glasses, but hesitated to pull off his win
dbreaker. At the prospect of letting Katherine see the gun and the shoulder holster, he suddenly had doubts about his new motto, began to wonder if perhaps he was overreacting.
“What’re you thinking about?”
He jumped at the sound of Katherine’s voice. He’d been standing at the kitchen counter staring at the wine in one of the glasses, and hadn’t heard a sound as she’d walked right up to him.
“Relax,” she said. She reached out, and before he realized what she intended she grabbed the zipper on the front of his windbreaker and tugged, pulling it down. “Get rid of the coat,” she said as she pulled it open. But she suddenly froze with her mouth open, and slowly her eyes widened. “Is that a gun?”
He turned away from her, pulling the coat out of her hands, and carried his glass of wine into the living room. She followed him, saying, “Don’t you think you’re overreacting? I mean a gun! Really! Or did you always carry a gun?”
He pulled off the windbreaker and the wig, tossed them on the couch next to her purse. “No, I didn’t carry a gun before all this. And maybe I am overreacting. I don’t know.” He popped a buckle on the shoulder holster and dropped the whole rig on the couch with his windbreaker.
She’d changed into a long-sleeve, white cotton blouse and shorts, and he noticed the black and blue and yellow splotching of the bruises on her legs. “I see you picked up a few bruises too.”
She looked down at her legs. “Ya, isn’t that atrocious? I’m covered with them.” She slid one of the sleeves of her blouse up, exposing a forearm also covered with bruises. “It’s going to be long sleeves for a while, and pant suits, or fully opaque stockings. And I like tight skirts. I look good in them.”
A piece of him agreed with her on that point and he almost said so. But he thought of Suzanna and guilt silenced him. So to get his mind off that line of thought he asked, “So what’s this idea you’ve got? How’re you going to prove your father’s not trying to kill me?”
She gave him a secretive smile. “Simple. We’ll just call him and ask.”
Trogmoressh dropped Its glamour, unfurled Its wings and took to the skies. The knowledge Its master had provided concerning the location of the young witch’s abode confused It a bit. But since It had tasted her once already, all It needed to do was get close, then It could find her by the scent of her magic. Tonight It would feast on her. It would find her alone and feed slowly, a banquet of power like nothing It had ever tasted.
No! It must remember It was only allowed to taste a bit of the young witch’s soul. It must not consume her, for then It would face the wrath of Its master, Its very cruel master.
“I’ll admit, Katherine, if he’d turned out to be a rogue, and I couldn’t get him to stop summoning demons voluntarily, I probably would’ve had to kill him.” McGowan’s voice, coming from the speaker in the phone in Katherine’s home office, seemed sincere.
Katherine’s plan was simple. She called her father from her home office, put him on the speakerphone, and didn’t reveal Paul’s presence while she asked him a few simple questions. They’d agreed in advance Paul would make the decision. If he gave her a thumbs-up, she could reveal his presence. But thumbs-down meant she was to finish the conversation in a normal fashion without mention of Paul.
Katherine had opened up with, “Father, I need to know what went on that night in Paul Conklin’s apartment.”
McGowan had, in turn, activated his own speakerphone so Colleen could join the conversation at that end. Paul guessed Colleen was the older hippie, and intended to confirm that at the end of the conversation. McGowan and Colleen described their confrontation with the Russians in front of Paul’s apartment building, and their description of the incident in Paul’s apartment fit the events, as he knew them. Paul had seen Colleen blast Joe Stalin with some sort of lightning an instant before he pulled the trigger on his howitzer, and had to admit if she hadn’t, it would’ve ended there with his brains splattered all over his apartment.
McGowan asked, “Why all the questions?”
Katherine raised her eyebrows at Paul, clearly asking if she could reveal his presence. He wasn’t ready for that, and he didn’t want her to end the conversation, so he just shook his head. She lied admirably. “Paul called me, at my office, and we had a long chat on the phone.”
McGowan demanded, “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. But he thinks you’re trying to kill him.”
“Damn! More damn, and double damn! What gave him that idea?”
“Weeellll,” Katherine said, her voice dripping sarcasm. “Could it be every time you show up it’s with the Russia mafia in tow, and they do very unfriendly things like shoot guns at the poor fellow?”
“Damn!”
“And then there’s the conversation you and Colleen had in your kitchen just as Paul was sneaking out of your house, the one in which you told her you couldn’t promise you wouldn’t kill him.”
“Damn! Damn, damn, damn! He overheard that, huh?”
“Katherine, dear.” That was the hippie. “Paul must not have heard the end of the conversation. Your father acknowledged the little people wouldn’t abdicate their traditional neutrality for a rogue. And he finished by promising he’d try to help young Mr. Conklin.”
McGowan said, “Something doesn’t add up here.”
Katherine demanded, “Like what?”
“Well, to start with two emergents crossed over that night, but we only found one in his apartment. And I thought he was summoning a succubus, but Colleen says there was no summoning, and it wasn’t a succubus. And the little people relinquishing their neutrality, that’s unheard of. And that Tertius couldn’t have pulled you and him into the Netherworld, so who, or better, what did? And that Secundus caste was no Secundus caste. I think the two of you ran into a Primus caste.”
“Why do you say that?”
They could hear Colleen and McGowan quietly arguing in the background for several seconds, then McGowan said, “We’re not in complete agreement on everything, but Colleen and I do agree something happened during our summons, something that reverberated throughout the Three Realms, which is the reason the Sidhe got involved. Colleen thinks it was your cross-over and the banishment of the demon. But you told me you thought the demon had enthralled Conklin. I know you changed your mind later because Conklin certainly couldn’t break a Primus caste enthrallment. But I think he somehow did. I think that’s what reverberated so loudly throughout the Realms.”
Katherine frowned and tilted her head slightly to one side in thought, her eyes narrowing sharply. “I’d forgotten all about this, but that demon kept calling Paul Dragon-stink.”
Colleen and McGowan uttered the same question simultaneously, “What? Dragon-stink?” They said it in a way Paul didn’t like, and this conversation was raising more questions than it was answering, so Paul raised his hand and gave Katherine a thumbs-down.
She frowned at him and shook her head. He raised his lips in a silent snarl that said, You promised. We had a deal.
She rolled her eyes unhappily, then silently mouthed, Ok.
She said, “It called him Dragon-stink, repeatedly, and I have no idea what that means. Listen, I have a date, and I’m already late. Why don’t we continue this tomorrow?”
There was a little more back and forth before the conversation ended, but the moment Katherine hit the button that killed the line, she turned to Paul and asked, “Aren’t you satisfied? I think it’s pretty clear my father’s not trying to kill you.”
“I’ll give you that,” he said.
“Then why make me end the conversation the way you did?”
Paul didn’t know how to explain it to her. These were all people she’d grown up with, people she could trust implicitly. “I want less attention, not more. I want this all to blow over so I can go back to my ordinary old life.”
She shook her head sadly. “That’s not going to happen, Paul.”
“Ya, I know,” he said. “I’d better get going.”
In the living room he retrieved his windbreaker and shoulder holster, held the holster up in front of her and said, “I’d say this is facing some pretty serious reality.”
She rolled her eyes and said, “I do think the gun’s going a little overboard. Colleen and my father and I can protect you without that.”
As he turned toward the front door she stepped in front of him and held up her hands to stop him. “Don’t go. You can crash on my couch. At least my place is warded. They’re not the most powerful wards, but they’ll give you some protection, so my place is the best chance you’ll have to get a decent night’s sleep.”
He hesitated and she said, “I’ve even got a couple of unused tooth brushes, still in the wrapping from the store. Wait here.”
She disappeared into her bedroom, reappeared a moment later and tossed him a new toothbrush and some toothpaste. She pointed across the room. “The bathroom’s down the hall on the left.”
Paul stepped into the bathroom, closed the door and looked at his image in the mirror. “What a fucking mess,” he said. He’d harbored a small hope this could all blow over. After he and Katherine had literally been rescued from hell, and, as Katherine had explained to him, the Tertius that had come after them was now stuck in hell and powerless to return, he’d hoped things could cool down. But the Netherworld thing had drawn the interest of these elves—Sidhe, they called them—and after his escape from Faerie he didn’t think for a second they’d walk away from this. And then there were the Russians, who struck him as a bunch of pretty tenacious bastards. And from the conversation they’d just had it was clear McGowan’s interest was on the upswing, and he was now taking an even greater interest in Paul. He was going to help Paul. But Paul didn’t want help. He just wanted them to leave him alone so he could go back to Suzanna and Cloe.