by A J Brahms
Could.
"Why are you in my home?"
"You have something of mine."
"It's not here."
She pursed her lips. "So I see. You will tell me where it is."
"No. I won't."
A sharp pain shot up my back and fixated at the base of my skull. I tensed as I endured it. I knew she was looking for a way in. A weakness she could exploit. We stood there, in silence, my gun aimed at her head and her mind making every attempt it could at invading mine.
Occam shielded me as well, and together we pushed her back, so hard she actually staggered, blinking.
I was sweating. It was hard keeping her from learning where the cup was, even though I didn't have the answer. I had to prove to her that trying to read my mind was futile.
And then she went after Occam.
My raven's scream shattered my concentration. I didn't know a Ghoul could try and read the mind of another's anima. Occam wasn't prepared for the intrusion and set about flapping and clawing at anything she could get her talons on. Including me. Her pain became my pain, compounded by the sting of her claws on my face and hands. I tried to calm her until the very moment she disappeared, taking herself to where she could be safe from this monster's torture.
It takes a lot to really ignite my temper, to bring out the one part of me I try to keep subdued. I had only a few triggers. Hurting an innocent, and hurting someone I cared about. Occam was a part of me. She was a part of my soul. She was…what kept me human. And this bitch had just hurt her.
Nothing, at that moment, could stop the rage I abruptly felt. No, she didn't get what she wanted. She didn't get into my mind, or Occam's. She got something worse.
A monster.
A real, monster.
I howled as I came at her and put my hand at her neck as a flock of ravens surrounded us, creating a vortex around us, blocking out all sight and sound for her. With my hand on her face I lifted her and slammed her against the wall, breaking and cracking the drywall as I locked my gaze with hers. I could see her horror reflected there as she realized what she'd tapped.
What…she'd unleashed.
Her death.
"No…no, no!" she screamed and tried to fight back.
I snarled at her again and felt my teeth cutting my lower lips as they brushed against it. I smelled her blood and was intoxicated by it. And her fear…so, so long it'd been since I'd smelled fear like this.
Something cool touched my soul. It eased my torment and calmed the thing inside of me, and eventually I released Mia's neck and backed away.
Large, stone wings enshrouded me as Aberdeen's voice continued to ease back my rage. I could feel Occam there too, rubbing her beak against my cheek.
Finally there was peace in my soul as I caught my breath. I was across the room, gripping the back of a chair, as Aberdeen stood behind me, in his full true form. He had a hand on my shoulder, and my gun in his free hand.
And Mia?
Well, she was staring at us, mouth open, eyes wide. I was pretty sure this was the first time she'd seen a Gargoyle up close and personal. Having seen my monster, and now a creature of the Holy Sacrament, I was thinking maybe she was ready to talk.
Until she collapsed like a house of cards into a puddle in the middle of the hall.
"Well," Aberdeen said as his voice echoed just a bit. "That went well."
Aberdeen kept an eye on Mia as she rested on the sofa. I made tea and set it on the coffee table and sat in a chair, waiting. It was getting late and I wasn't sure whether I should go with Luke and Julie or stay here and interrogate the Ghoul. I honestly didn't feel comfortable leaving her with Aberdeen. Not that I thought she'd hurt him, but that he'd decide it was time to consecrate her. Which would mean, if I understood what he'd told me upon our meeting, her death.
And as if on cue, Mia sat up straight. I knew she didn't sleep, so her faint was legit. Now that she was conscious, she would stay that way. She looked at me, then at Aberdeen. Her eyes went back to me and then back to Aberdeen. With a shaking finger, she pointed at him. "You're a…"
"Messenger of God," he said in his gravely British way. Then he smiled and scrunched his nose when he looked at me. "I've always wanted to say that."
Oh brother.
"Miss Tavern," I said and she snapped her head to face me.
She pointed to me. "That's why you were called The Hunter. You…your strength…"
"Is something I keep very personal," I said. "I don't like others knowing what it is, as was my Maker's command. So if you were to ever tell another soul, especially a Night Walker, then I would be forced to revert to my old ways and I'd really rather not do that."
She swallowed. I wasn't sure I bought her frightened act. I didn't trust her at all.
She'd hurt Occam. No second chances. I reached out and stroked Occam's feathers where she sat beside me, on the arm of the couch.
"You're an unregistered Chevalier."
Mia looked at me. "I told you I'm not a Chevalier."
"I was trained by the same Master, Mia. I know your moves. You have the same training."
"I have similar training. And yes it was by the same Master, but my Maker didn't finish the training. I was never put through the final ceremony to receive the title."
I glanced at Aberdeen. He leaned his head to his shoulder. "So, that way she didn't have to register you, even though you possessed the abilities of a Chevalier."
"Yes."
"Who were you?"
"I beg your pardon?" She gave me a strange look.
"Who were you before the Countess took you?"
I was faced with a blank look. "I—I'm Mia. I've always been Mia."
Aberdeen sat forward. "You don't remember who you were as a human?"
She gave him a face.
"Okay. Why did you take that cup?"
"Because my Master wanted me too."
"But," I crossed my legs. "Your Master's been dead for quite a long time. Is this something she wanted you to do when she was alive?"
"The Countess told me to get the cup, whether she was alive or dead. It took me more than a few decades to track it down. So when I knew it was in the Keep in New York, I did as she asked."
"Why?"
Mia looked confused again. "Why…what?"
"Why did your Master want you to take it?"
"Because she wants it."
"But your Master is dead," Aberdeen said. "Has been dead for a very long time. The mere fact you have survived all this time is a testament to how well she trained you, yes, but to procure something in such a dangerous manner after her death seems out of touch."
"Why?" She looked at him now, though I could still sense a fear in her. Aberdeen terrified her.
"Well what could you possibly do with this cup?"
"It's a relic," I said, remembering the conversation Aberdeen and I had. "It has some sort of power, doesn't it? Or a meaning, otherwise it wouldn't have been in the Keep."
I had her attention now and she didn't answer. But I knew I was on the right track. "It's something she would still want…beyond death?"
Flare of the nose. Slight movement with the mouth. Yes, I had touched on something. I leaned forward. "What were you doing at Lake Lanier? You can't remain quiet now, Mia. I saw the thing in the lake. It's Faerie in origin, isn't it? And you were using magic to either summon it or stir it. Why? What could a Ghoul want with some sort of Faerie monster?"
I didn't think she'd answer, so I started to get up. "Wait."
I paused.
"The cup is imbued with the power of a healing."
I looked at Aberdeen who shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't understand. You mean like the cup of Christ?"
"Not exactly. Same principle. All I know is that my Maker wanted the cup, and the blood of Ginny Greenteeth."
Aberdeen was on his feet. I looked at him and shook my head, letting him know I didn't understand. Aberdeen moved around the couch and Mia followed him with her gaze. "Miss Tavern, do you
know the legend of Ginny Greenteeth?"
"I'm not that familiar with any Faerie legends."
Neither was I. Hell, I hadn't even realized I'd talked to the same Goddess in three different guises during my meeting with The Mórrígan. So I paid attention.
"Ginny Greenteeth, though a hideous beast, is one of the most sought after creatures in the unknown universe. Because they were so wanted for their blood, they were hunted nearly into extinction, with very few left in the world. When they are found, we offer them asylum." He looked at me. "The thing you ran into, in the lake. You said it had a shackle?"
"Yeah," I stood. "Looked like it had broken free from something."
"And this spell you were doing," Aberdeen looked back at Mia. "You were summoning Ginny Greenteeth to what?"
She looked at me and then back at him. "It was a spell to trigger her appearance. You say the words, burn the herbs and she appears. Then I was to gather her blood."
Now I made a face. Regular blood was nasty enough, but to think of trying to get blood out of that thing? Nooo. "What the hell for?"
She shrugged and when I rolled my eyes she put her hands on the sofa. "I really don't know. I made a promise to my Maker to get the blood and the cup and bring them to her."
"But she's dead," I said.
"I know," She said and sighed. "It was made as a compulsion. And I can't get rid of it. I figured, if I just do it and then take the stuff to that big house down town, then she'll finally leave me the hell alone."
I smiled at her. "You made a life. Since her death."
"Just like you did. Only I didn't get a Gargoyle." She looked back at Aberdeen who smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile.
"Wait," I held up a finger. "What big house downtown?"
"That big stone thing. The one that doesn't look right. That's where the compulsion keeps pointing me to go. Look," She stood and was cautious around us. "I found out where the cup is, and then I found out there's a Greenteeth here, in the same city where I'm supposed to bring the cup. I figure—this was my chance. I finish it and she leaves me alone."
The only stone house downtown that fit her description was Cimitir Hall. That's where her Maker's bones were. I doubted Mia knew that. I could read her now. She wasn't trying to stop me.
Aberdeen and I looked at one another. I didn't know what he was thinking, but I was pretty sure I needed to have a conversation with Mitchell Greybeard.
Nine
I had some time before Mitchell Graybeard was scheduled to be released, which meant he'd head home. Maybe a few hours at most. Aberdeen agreed to keep an eye on our "guest" while I took the Prius back up to Lake Lanier. The trip ate into an hour of that time so I checked my phone for any local news on Greybeard's release once I got to the address. The mailbox had the right number but the house was hidden behind a clump of trees. And not just one kind of tree, but a whole grouping of different kinds that successfully put up a barrier between house and road. There wasn't a gate, which I was surprised, but I still parked alongside the road, a bit down from the house.
Not finding anything, I called Luke and got his voicemail. "Hey Luke, it's Ren. Give me a call when you get this and let me know when Mitchell Greybeard's released. Thanks."
After that, I got out, grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder. I checked my gun and then shoved it into the back of my jeans before I cut between two houses and followed the edge of the lake up to the house.
And what a house it was. The thing looked like a patchwork of styles, materials, and years. Newer pieces added onto older ones. I was pretty sure it started out as a two story, split level, maybe built sometime in the sixties. Now I counted three more rooms added on in a sort of snake-like S in the direction of the lake, not far from a scary looking dock with its own sad shack near the end of it.
I took several shots with the Canon, not asking or thinking of any questions. I just wanted proof of the craziness of this place because…nobody was gonna believe what was behind that line of trees. Except the cops who arrested Greybeard. Wondered what they thought about all of this.
There was a fairly decent sized yard, but it was littered with things, hidden in high grass. Glass, sharp pieces of metal, wire…I was glad I had shoes on.
The way the house sat, it was also pretty hidden from the neighbors. More trees and overgrown hedges on either side, which I'm sure made everyone happy.
Getting inside wasn't difficult, given the front door was open. That set off a few alarms and Occam came without me even asking. She swept through the house to make sure no one was home. With the all clear I stepped in and closed the door.
The first thing that hit me was the smell. In a place like this, I wouldn't have been surprised to smell rotting garbage. But that wasn't it. The scent was medicinal. Almost like…formaldehyde or something like it. I didn't know of anything organic that would make that smell. But there was something else, just underneath the bite of it. It was tangy and reminded me a little of the herb shops in Little Five Points. Dragon's Blood Rede maybe? Either way, if Graybeard had been burning Dragon's Blood to kill the pheramaldahyde smell—epic fail. Nothing was gonna knock that out.
Normally a flashlight would be of use in this case, all the shades were pulled and it was close to eight in the evening, but being what I was—I didn't need it. I could see just fine. And what I saw would be burned into my brain for decades.
This guy was a hoarder on a magnitude that sent shivers down my spine. There were the usual stacks of papers, magazines, books…lots of books. I picked a few up and looked and the titles were in different languages. Some Russian, some German, there were some Japanese books as well as magazines. In fact, the closer I looked, they were all different languages. I didn't see any in English.
I did see a shit ton of silverfish.
Gross.
There was a path through the living area to the kitchen. Piles of dirty dishes everywhere, and a few roaches scurried by. This place looked and felt like an episode of "Hoarders." On the other side of that, it would make a great setting for Seven II, the movie. Sloth and Gluttony have a kid.
ShitFuckDamn…I wanted out of there.
Not seeing much of anything other than a mess, I went to the bedrooms. Same thing. Until I came to the back bedroom and saw the altar and open spaces in the layer of dust covering the top of the altar where it looked like Graybeard had had some items with round bases. My assumption was the cops saw that, grabbed the stuff as evidence and arrested him. There were a few posters on the wall, but nothing that looked Satanic to me. No Baphomet or Diablo. Just a few gaming posters—one for Zelda about ten games past. There was one poster in the back, half hidden by an upturned bed frame. But all I could see on it was some art shot of a red candle, thurible, and a gold pentagram.
No black magic here.
Though there was something in the air that pressed on my shoulders. It was enough to creep Occam out, so she stayed out of the house after her initial search. She preferred to keep a vigil on the grounds, making sure no one snuck up on me.
Going up stairs was not in the stars because the stairs were littered with books and junk. Old lamps, a broken piggy bank, a bathroom scale, a few suitcases and what looked like plastic bookshelves that had been disassembled and tossed onto the pile.
I went back to the kitchen and found a door by the fridge (I was not opening that fridge) and tried it. Not locked. There were stairs going down. So I grabbed a bottle of Sacrament from my bag and took the stairs one at a time. I pulled at a string when it brushed my face and a naked bulb came on over my head, as did a network of them further down. I was a bit surprised there was a basement this close to a lake. Wasn't there a water table issue here?
And then as I hit the last step I felt a lurch in my stomach and realized I'd just stepped through something Magical. Something I'm sure the police had overlooked, because when I looked back up—I didn't see the stairs or the door into the kitchen.
Slight panic, yeah, wondering how I was going to g
et out. But I'd cross that little problem when it became a bit more worrisome. I could still talk to Occam, so all was well.
The room I found myself in looked like an average basement. Water heater. Utility sink. Concrete floor. In fact, it looked very normal. But it was devoid of the one thing any sane person would expect to find in a basement.
Junk.
Stuff.
Storage.
There was nothing. It was perfectly clean. The opposite of the house above.
Except for the huge honking cage in the far right corner. I blinked a few times, not sure I was seeing it, but it didn't go away. There really was a big metal cage in the corner, away from the stairs.
"Hey Occam?"
She appeared bedside me and then landed on my shoulder. "You see that too, right?"
She cawed.
So I moved in close and touched it. Iron. This was a real, honest-to-God iron cage. No one built iron cages anymore. Alloy metals yeah, but solid iron?
Occam took flight and did a spiral around the room until she abruptly flew into the wall beside the cage and disappeared. I yelled out—and then stopped when she vanished—and then came out of the wall again and landed on my shoulder. She looked at me. I craned my neck and looked at her. "Good job."
I put my hand on the wall where my raven had gone and sure enough, my hand passed through it. With a deep breath I walked through—
And found myself in Professor Cray-Cray's lab of Oh Shit.
It wasn't a big room but it was packed with stuff. Shelves covered every inch of wall. Identical paper boxes lined one shelf, the next shelf housed blue plastic boxes, the next white plastic and so on around the room. Each of the boxes were neatly labeled as to what was contained inside of them. The cardboard boxes were files, all in alphabetical order. The blue boxes were listed as Average, the whites were Above Average. There was a shelf of gold boxes and they were labeled High Price.
Well, of course I went to the High Price shelf and pulled a random box out. In the center of the room was a table, strikingly clean. I figured it was a work surface but given the condition of the house upstairs, I still didn't want to touch it. I set the box on it and pried open the lid.