Graves Pact (Landon Graves Book 1)

by Matthew Stinson

  “I see you’ve put a lot of thought into this.” Mendoza’s brow furled in anger and looking at her started to hurt.

  “I have,” she said slowly. The tone drove home how little remorse she would have had for ending someone like me.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about you too,” I said with a sly grin.

  I couldn’t let her know that she scared me. The shameless flirting had a purpose. So long as she didn’t consider me a threat, I might have been able to keep things from escalating. In the worst case, she might underestimate my abilities, giving me the edge I’d need to survive.

  Mendoza stared blankly for a moment. I winked. She rolled her eyes in disgust and shoved me away. I bumped into her pair of filing cabinets, noticing they were solidly filled. The woman got the job done… or took on more than she could handle.

  Since I’d gotten her off the war path, I plead my case. “Look, we both want the same thing here. This guy’s got to be stopped. Believe it or not, you’ve got nothing to fear from me.”

  “Your kind are deceivers. You’ll attack me when I’m weakest.”

  I was getting a little sick of the tirade from the ivory tower, though she described exactly what my warlock instincts demanded I do. “Then why bother with it? Why take the risk if you’re so sure I’m going to turn on you?”

  Raising my voice seemed to surprise her. She looked away. “Who else could?”

  Faith. It was a hell of a thing. I wanted to assure her that she could trust me, but every word in that direction would only have gotten her to dig her heels in more. I didn’t know what to do. She seemed to understand more about warlocks than I did.

  She didn’t let the pause grow awkward. “Then let’s not waste any more time. I’ll drive.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The ride in Mendoza’s Crown Victoria was awkward to say the least. I’d half-expected her to insist I sit in the back behind the Plexiglas. I made an ill-advised attempt at small talk, but she glanced sideways at me dismissively. Clearly, she had no opinion about the balmy weather.

  Defaulting to another standby, I opened my mouth to ask about her family, but I realized what a mistake that would have been. Having a warlock show interest in her family could be the last little push she needed to straight up shoot me. God, I hate awkward silence.

  “So... being Chosen,” I said to the side of her face. “Does that come with good dental?”

  She sighed and turned on the radio, reading my unease as if I’d advertised it on a billboard. Classical? You’re full of surprises.

  I gave up on casual conversation. She wouldn’t let her guard down while I was around. When the musical piece finally ended, I reverted to business.

  “So what’s the plan of attack once we get there?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

  She eyed me warily before answering, “We’ll start at the payphone. I might be able to... follow his trail.”

  I frowned to myself. I had no idea what capabilities a Chosen had or what her limits were. I had to trust her. I guessed that was easier for me, since she was literally on the side of the angels.

  “We need to be discreet,” I added. “He’s already used magic to compel one person to follow me. It stands to reason that he could have more lackeys.”

  “How many more?”

  “I have no idea.” I wished I could have given a better answer. “Magic isn’t really a strong suit for me.” I mentally cringed. Stupid move. I shouldn’t give away that kind of information to somebody that may try to kill me one day. Maybe one day soon.

  She only nodded, her disappointment barely evident in her furled brow. “You’ve faced him. What can we expect?”

  I blew out a long breath as I recalled what the man had transformed into during our previous encounter. “Claws, acidic saliva, extra eyes, and fangs enough to give Jaws a case of the willies. You know, typical demon stuff.”

  As an unintended result of my blithe tone, I got a subtle reaction from the woman I hadn’t expected. She kept her face just a little too still. The Chosen didn’t want me to know that she had never faced a demon before.

  “Well, that makes two of us,” I muttered quietly.

  “What?”

  “I said he left a magical trap of sorts in the apartment of James Thompson.” I wondered how much of her stern defensive nature came from her proximity to me. Maybe she was always like that. “Nothing fancy, but it alerted him.”

  “So,” Mendoza said, “Magic traps, an unknown number of henchmen, and something out of a horror movie. Did I miss anything?”

  It might have been funny if not for her tone.

  “No,” I remarked, “that just about sums it up.”

  We got to the neighborhood and she slowed to a conspicuous crawl as we approached the convenience store with the payphone in question. I scanned for security cameras. Pulling tape might have helped to ID the perp, especially if he’d loitered for any amount of time waiting for a call. I said as much to the detective as she parked.

  “Knock yourself out.” She seemed distracted as she talked, her eyes constantly scanning the surrounding buildings for some kind of danger. “I’ve got a more direct lead.”

  Putting the idea on the mental back burner, I shrugged and got out of the Crown Vic that wasn’t fooling anyone. Young gangbangers immediately saw us and went running to inform their other members that the law was in the area. I hadn’t worked many organized crime cases, but I still knew we were blowing our cover before we even got close.

  Mendoza stared at the trio of payphones for a solid minute, her hand extended as if feeling for heat. “It’s faint, but it’s still here. He hasn’t used this phone for a while.”

  Not since his lackey failed to kill me, I guessed, making another assumption. “If he isn’t using the phone, he may not have any other informers or thugs out working for him.”

  “You mean he doesn’t have any mind-controlled underlings out doing anything. That doesn’t help us if he’s got them close by.”

  “Right, well... carry on then.”

  Mendoza returned to the Crown Vic and popped the trunk of the car to reveal a partial armory. I arched an eyebrow and glanced at her as she unbuckled her underarm holster and grabbed a Kevlar vest. Strapping it on expertly, she returned to the neatly organized compartments and picked a nylon thigh holster—for the Desert Eagle.

  She loves that gun. It certainly wasn’t her normal duty weapon. I surmised that only the fiends of the supernatural world merited the big caliber.

  She pulled on a stylish coat that reached her knees and fit tightly with all she had on underneath. I wondered if that was the only purpose of the garment that was clearly sized for someone larger. How often does she do this sort of thing?

  Once I got over my shock, I asked, “Got a vest in there for me?”

  “Fresh out.”

  I wasn’t too worried the demon-possessed perp using a gun, but he’d appropriated a henchman before. It would have been nice to have a vest. I made a mental note to requisition one and carry it around with me. Maybe I’d make a little demon-hunting tote bag.

  Mendoza snatched a Remington shotgun from a nylon sling affixed to the roof of the trunk. She loaded green shells before she slammed the trunk shut. Through the convenient store’s window, I spotted the cashier from the store staring with his mouth hanging open. I grimaced and flashed him my badge. It seemed to mollify him. I waved him away with curt gesture that said, “Official business. Get lost.” He wisely retreated out of sight.

  In a way, I envied him.

  By the time I returned my attention to Mendoza, she was already walking down the street. The shotgun poked out from underneath her coat, but I doubted anyone far off could have made it out. I caught up and surveyed the street. With her attention on a mystical trail, I was on lookout duty.

  We walked four blocks without seeing a soul. I knew they were around, watching us. They were people used to danger, typically in the form of gangs competing for territory. While that ra
rely escalated in Denver, no one here ran the risk.

  I didn’t blame them.

  Human instincts picked up on a multitude of danger, our senses taking cues our conscious mind overlooked or simply couldn’t comprehend. Sometimes those feelings got us into trouble, when panic or fear made us react poorly. But ignoring that sense of unease could be just as bad. Listen to your gut, but decide with your brain. Telling myself this helped—a little.

  “It’s in this building,” she said with a sense of certainty. “He made the trip to the payphones several times.”

  I glanced at the three-story tenement. I would have asked how she knew, but I figured it was some kind of divine blessing thing. I had my perks and she had hers. The “scent” got us there. I took her at her word. Could she track me this easily?

  Mendoza wasted no time, bolting up the stairs to the double doors that had their glass panes replaced by plywood. They opened without a fuss. She hesitated only a moment before heading down the flight of stairs to the right into a sub-ground level floor. The hall was dim despite the afternoon sun outside and the lights flickered eerily.

  We exchanged glances for a brief moment before continuing down the hall with our respective guns readied. I followed her lead. She was obviously more sensitive to demonic energies than I was.

  I could tell she was holding onto divine energy, because her proximity made my skin itch all over. My human senses interpreted her power as heat and I winced. She was like a moving oven. I wondered what effect I had on her.

  She watched the hall as I checked a laundry room with three broken washers and three vacant spots where dryers once stood. We passed four closed doors and stopped at the fifth. Taking my cue, I flanked the doorway with her. I could tell she was getting worked up by the intensity of her aura.

  “You might want to turn that down a bit,” I whispered harshly.

  She glared. “What are you talking about?”

  Was it possible? Did she not know about the aura she gave off? Maybe it was like B.O. You just got used to your own smell.

  “The whole righteous fury thing. Keep a lid on it. You’ll give us away.” She looked puzzled and I rolled my eyes. “Look, you have your senses and I have mine. I’m guessing his are like mine. I can barely look at you right now. I can feel your anger. Bottle it up or our perp will know you’re coming.”

  “Oh,” she said. I saw her lips move a bit more, but the “thank you” never escaped her mouth. She breathed in deeply a few times and I felt the righteous anger abate.

  “Good. Just be ready to let it out when the time comes. It will mess him up.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  “Yeah, but don’t worry about me.”

  “I won’t.”

  She raised a boot and put it to the cheap apartment door. No knock. No identifying herself as an officer of the law. She was acting as one of the Chosen and enforced a different law. Maybe her being a cop meant nothing and she’d kill me as soon as I did something that got her attention.

  The door crashed open with a thunderous clap. It had been a long time since I’d cleared a room. In my excitement, I was in first, my Glock raised and ready to put down anything that jumped at me. I should have let the person with the shotgun lead.

  Adapting to my misstep, Mendoza mirrored my movements, checking the living room, and I quickly strode through the small kitchen. I was dimly aware of the stink. The whole place was trashed, as if a tornado had torn through it. I followed the Chosen onto the bared cement of the living room. Tatters of the grimy carpet had been shunted aside so that a summoning circle could be drawn on a flat surface.

  Seeing that it was spent and no threat to us, I ignored it and we moved to the only bedroom. A twin mattress with no box-spring sat in the corner. An overturned dresser blocked a closet to my right. Mendoza went left and inspected the bathroom. She returned immediately, having found nothing.

  Our eyes met and both our gazes slid to the closet. I stepped toward the dresser, the broken glass of a TV set crunching under my shoes. I reluctantly holstered my gun and pulled the mostly-empty dresser out of the way. Nothing immediately sprang out, so Mendoza closed.

  Glancing back to ensure I’d drawn my pistol once again, she gave a silent count to three and reached for the knob.

  Chapter Fifteen

  My mind conjured images of the human-demon hybrid springing out of the closest as soon as the door opened. My heart threatened to pound its way out of my chest. Palms growing slippery with sweat, I steadied my breathing and tightened my grip on the Glock.

  Mendoza flung the door open and got out of the line of fire likes she had done the maneuver a few times before. She pivoted in a tight motion that resulted in her kneeling with the shotgun pointed directly at the gap. Waiting for several tense breaths, nothing happened. She reached for a flashlight. To her eyes, darkness cloaked the closet.

  “Don’t bother,” I said, scanning with my pact-enhanced sight. “It’s empty.”

  “He’s not here,” she said disbelievingly.

  I snorted. “It was a long shot. We can still learn a lot from the place.”

  “I was so sure,” she mumbled, her distant gaze unfocused and unaware. We couldn’t afford that right now. We were still in danger.

  “Hey,” I said loudly enough to get her full attention. “There’s enough bad vibes here that even I can feel that something’s off. Your radar just got overwhelmed. He was probably here recently. He could still come back, but if he doesn’t, we need to figure out what he’s doing.”

  She nodded and then scowled, as if berating herself for listening to me—or for needing the reassurance. “Let’s get to it then.”

  First, I sought out active magic auras. I’d kept an eye out during the initial sweep, but my main concern at the time had been demons laying in waiting. I looked more thoroughly, starting with the area above the door. Finding nothing, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I don’t think he’s left us any magical surprises.”

  The detective acknowledged me, but kept examining the scene. I joined her and we quickly searched the shambles of the apartment. I found a case of veterinary grade ketamine with over half its vials missing. I didn’t see too many syringes, so I assumed the perp sold the stuff for a quick buck. Mendoza emerged from the bedroom with an old, light blue shirt with a nametag.

  “Oliver Pontas,” she read. “Veterinary assistant. Cedar Meadows Animal Hospital. It could be stolen, but it fits with your profile.”

  “Yeah, it explains how he knew the correct dosage to give the victim and how he had access to it in the first place.”

  “Ketamine is restricted. I bet I’ll find a robbery report from Cedar Meadows on file back at the precinct,” she said. “It also gives us a place to pick up some more information about him. If we had the time. Which we don’t.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “He’s on the move. He knows what I am. He’ll be more cautious.”

  She was only half-listening to me. With the barrel of her shotgun, she pointed to a bunched up portion of carpet torn from the floor pinned down by an overturned coffee table. “What’s that?”

  “Evidence that Oliver won’t be getting his security deposit back,” I answered quickly. Then I looked more closely. “This is a spent summoning circle.”

  I moved the table, flinging the loose carpet up out of the way. As a basement apartment, there was smooth concrete beneath the foam and tack boards that held the carpet down. Clearing it was easy, since it had already been pulled up once before.

  I squatted to get a good look at the symbols. Many were familiar, like a normal summoning, but there was no salt, silver, or iron. No protection. Continuing my inspection, I saw that the lines were sloppy and the symbols weren’t exact. It was close enough to work, but the whole thing smacked of amateur. In that way, it was similar to the circle in the Lowry dorm.

  “The blood is a few days old.” I pointed to the smudged seal at the center of the circle. “He called a specific demon
. I think I can make it out…” I sketched out the main symbols on my little notepad.

  “The Exiled can’t take physical form in our world without magic like the Gate spell. That’s what you said, right?”

  I nodded. “A typical summoning will only allow a fraction of the called spirit’s essence through. And this is barely good enough to open the way to the Outworld at all. I’d say it only lasted a few minutes at most.”

  “That’s not long. What could it accomplish in that amount of time?” she asked. “Is that when it possessed him?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know. It’s possible, but if that was the case, I doubt he’d have failed in that Gate ritual.”

  “So it makes more sense that Oliver got possessed after last Thursday.”

  “That’s a good theory,” I said, trying to add up all we’d gleaned from the apartment. “He’s troubled—drug addicted and broke. He starts hearing voices that tell him to do things. He thinks he’s crazy, but he starts following orders just to get them to shut up. He fails to open the Gate, so he summons the Exiled creature whispering to him in a simpler ritual. It exposes him to the Outworld for an instant. With no defensive measures, that tiny fraction of a demon infests Oliver and takes him over.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it.” There was an element of disgust in her voice.

  I guess I’m the authority on supernatural possession here. “Yeah, that’ll be nice for a change.” I ignored the glare she shot me. “Anyway, glimpsing the Outworld could fracture the foundation of even the most stable mind.”

  “That doesn’t really matter anymore. The demon’s in control.”

  She was right. I was fixating on Oliver’s past, not his present, but understanding that gave me a basis for comparison. “Yeah… but it still shows some of his behavior. Oliver stayed near this neighborhood. It gave him a sense of the familiar as the demon exerted control. Or the demon only knows what Oliver does.”

  Mendoza cut in. “So what’s he going to do now?”