Grave Measures (The Grave Report, Book 2)

by R. R. Virdi

  A soft grip enveloped my hand, lifting it out and away from underneath the table. Ortiz traced a circle around my tattoo with a finger. “I don’t know if we can afford to play it quiet and smart. Sixteen hours isn’t a lot considering we don’t know where to find this thing or how to kill it.”

  “Kill what?” a voice asked.

  I nearly upended my bowl of Lucky Charms, almost incurring a bazillion years of bad luck. “Lizzie, what the hell?”

  “Kill what?” she repeated.

  “The phage.”

  Her face twisted in confusion.

  “The thing you’re calling a Narrowman.”

  “Oh.” She nodded in understanding. “How are you going to kill it?”

  I sighed. “I have no idea.”

  “But you might have a way to find out.” Ortiz stared. There was an undercurrent in her voice of something more. She either thought I could find out more, or knew I could.

  “Yes. I’m not overly fond of that option though.”

  “Why not?” Ortiz could’ve burrowed holes through my noggin with the way she watched me.

  “Because they’ll screw me, or kill me, or screw me then kill me.” I wasn’t wrong. Lyshae was an overachiever in bitch-craft.

  “Not if we come with you.” Ortiz’s face made it clear that it wasn’t a suggestion.

  “Bad idea. It could be dangerous.”

  She shot me a look which settled the debate.

  “’Kay,” I groaned. Reaching into the bowl with a finger, I scooped up a lone green marshmallow. I flicked it into the air toward Lizzie. She caught the clover and gave me a puzzled look. “For luck.”

  “Oh.” She stuffed the soggy marshmallow in her pocket.

  “Erhm, yeah, you hold onto that, Lizzie.” I turned to Ortiz and beckoned with a nod of my head. “Come on.”

  “Where?”

  “Outside. But it’s morning so we’ll have to go into the woods to avoid drawing attention.”

  “What are we going to do?” She looked at me with a hint of wariness

  “Have a chat with a fox.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The asylum grounds were as close to empty as they could have been. I was nursing a hope they would’ve been devoid of all people. It would’ve made things easier. With everything that was happening, I didn’t want to chance an evocation in the woods. Hell, even a meeting with Lyshae, secluded in the tree-covered grounds, was a dangerous proposition.

  Lizzie trailed behind Ortiz as I led them to the thicket. We passed a man with dark, shoulder-length hair. He rocked on a swing and spoke to himself. His eyes twinkled with merriment. An elderly woman sat nearby. Her eyes were closed, expression serene. Seeing those two made me smile.

  It’s something about people, I’ve noticed. No matter the hardships, no matter how long they’ve been endured—people persevere. It’s not always loud triumphs and accomplishments. Sometimes it’s about the quiet things, the simple things. It’s about the little smiles while sitting in a field of green grass under the morning sun. It’s about being five years old again, swaying back and forth on a swing. I hadn’t realized that my feet had stopped moving. I stared at them for—well, I don’t know how long. Everything was still, the calm sort. The sort I’ve never really known.

  A hand fell on my shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, my voice a bit rougher than expected.

  “Sure?” She gave a gentle squeeze. “I know that look. I’ve seen it before.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Six months ago. Last paranormal case I was wrapped up in. The guy looked at a young couple walking down the street like that. You could see the longing in his eyes, to be normal, to want to live like that.”

  “Yeah.” She was right. I did have that look on my face.

  “You guys don’t have it easy, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Sorry.” She punctuated the word with another squeeze.

  “So am I, Ortiz.” I stood rooted there for another few moments, letting my thoughts run away with what it’d be like to be normal. Lizzie sniffed behind me and I snapped back to reality. I turned and walked off in silence. I kept my eyes fixed on the copse, not wanting to chance a look back.

  The woods drew nearer. I didn’t have much of a plan but I went through all the possibilities of what could happen. It never hurts to have a plan. Knowing how Lyshae would react, and what she would do a second time, was like trying to guess the future with a magic eight ball. There was no real way you could do it. You couldn’t trust the outcome either. She might be more cooperative if I summoned her in a circle. Or she could be exceptionally hostile and even more unpredictable. Believe it or not, supernatural creatures are not overly fond of being summoned on the whims of a mortal. Nor are they fans of being trapped.

  Go figure.

  The best chance I had of Lyshae helping us was if I called her—politely. No Summoner’s Star. I risked losing leverage, but she might be more amicable.

  I hoped.

  We reached the end of the asylum’s well-manicured grass, stepping into the thicket. My vision corrected itself as we strolled through. The morning sun struggled to make itself known between the tight-knit trees. Canted pillars of light shone through here and there. Leading Ortiz and Lizzie further inside, I wondered how they’d react to Lyshae. Horrible monsters are easier for people to imagine and accept than nice ones. Well, nice was a stretch for Lyshae. Morally ambiguous, but not keen to rip one’s face off. Oh, and a backstabbing bitch.

  “How much further?”

  “Not far, Ortiz.” Technically we didn’t have to be far in at all to call Lyshae. However, the further in we were, the less likely someone would stumble on our talk. It’d be one thing for Ortiz and Lizzie to meet Lyshae, but for one of the asylum’s patients... That would be awkward.

  I stopped after another minute of walking.

  “What now, Charles?”

  “Now, I call up an acquaintance.” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “And hope she’s in a helpful, not murderous, mood.” I kept my voice low as I called, “Lyshae.” I turned back to see if Ortiz had heard me. She didn’t. We may have needed Lyshae, but I didn’t want Ortiz knowing her name. If Ortiz knew Lyshae’s name and watched carefully enough, she’d figure out how to call the Kitsune by herself.

  Without a Summoner’s Star to keep Lyshae at bay, Ortiz would be screwed. I didn’t doubt Ortiz’s toughness. She’d proven that on a several occasions. Regardless of what she believed, she was still ignorant about the paranormal world. Lyshae would prey on that ignorance and naivety. Ortiz was naturally curious; Lyshae would fuel that curiosity until she could easily manipulate her. That wasn’t going to happen.

  “Lyshae.” It didn’t matter how quiet my summons was, Lyshae would hear it; that’s what mattered. So long as Ortiz didn’t pick up on them, everything was fine. “Lyshae,” I called for the third time. “Come on, you conniving bitch.”

  A gentle gust blew. Branches swayed like a genial wave from a close friend. I closed my eyes and relished how comforting the breath of wind was. It was easy to imagine that it was that little draft that swept up my calls and carried them to Lyshae. Of course, the wind had nothing to do with it. It was simply the act of uttering her name. Once got her attention. Twice was an annoyance. Thrice was a firm, yet polite, invitation. Well, invitation’s the wrong word. Having said her name three times, she didn’t have a choice but to show up. The question was: when?

  The breeze picked up and my hairs stood on end. I let myself shiver for a moment. A flash of white bounded into view with speed and grace beyond human or animal.

  It was roughly the size of a Labrador Retriever, which is saying something, considering most foxes weren’t. Thick pelt, immaculate and pure white. A fan of slender fur trailed behind the creature’s body. Nine lengthy tails, their tips gold. The fox covered the final six feet in a single leap. Its features shifted in midair. The transition was seamless. A fox had sail
ed into the air, but a woman landed in front of us.

  Lizzie gasped. Ortiz bristled, moving halfway into an aggressive pose before reining herself back in.

  “Lyshae.” I made a small bow.

  Her lips quirked, and her eyes filled with amusement. Returning my slight bow, she added a polite inclination of the head. “Vincent,” she said in that melodious voice of hers.

  “Who’s Vincent?” Ortiz eyed the pair of us.

  Lyshae’s head tilted to the side as she observed the situation. Her eyes widened as a look of understanding came over her. “Oh,” she breathed, eyes alight with childlike pleasure. She smiled. “That’s interesting.”

  I gave her a look. Her mouth shut, but the pleased look remained. It was the look of a fox that had stumbled into a chicken coop with no one around.

  Ortiz didn’t relent. “Who’s Vincent?”

  Lyshae made an offhand wave of her hand. “Another name, another man. Similar—very similar. I’m afraid my memory is not quite what it used to be.” The master lie-smith gave a smile that edged on too sincere.

  “Well,” Ortiz said dryly. “That was almost the truth.”

  I was glad I didn’t rubberneck like I wanted to at that moment. Ortiz picking up on my lies, or anyone else’s, was impressive. Picking up on Lyshae’s on the first time was impossible. It was easier for me to admit it was dumb luck than anything else. Lyshae wasn’t just a masterful liar. She was beyond that in a supernatural way. She was a Kitsune, a trickster spirit. Lying was as natural to her as breathing. Not to mention she had her own magical ability interwoven with her skills at telling non-truths.

  That delighted look returned to Lyshae’s face. “Oh, you have a hint of talent about you.” Lyshae moved with slow, precise motions as she brushed passed me. She circled Ortiz with the measured caution of a predator. “And what, if I might inquire, is your name?” She gave Ortiz a fox-like grin.

  “No,” I grated.

  A golden eyebrow arched as Lyshae glanced at me, then toward Ortiz. “I believe I asked her.” Her smile grew.

  “And I believe I gave you an answer. How did it go again? No!”

  Lyshae let out a huff of breath and ran her hands over the shift, smoothing the already straight material. “Fine, to business then. I’m assuming that because there’s no Star binding me, I’m entirely free to go if I so choose?”

  I grinned. “You know what happens when you assume, Lyshae? You make an ass out of you.”

  She blinked before adopting her usual smirking facial expression. “Should I take that as my cue to leave?”

  “You could, but...” I let the word hang in the air, drawing her curiosity. “You’d lose out on a chance to make me owe you one.”

  Her pleased mask slipped, but she kept circling.

  Fish sees bait.

  Lyshae muttered something that I couldn’t make out. She slowed her pace and faced me. “What do you require of me?”

  Fish. On. Hook.

  “We’re hunting a phage.”

  Lyshae rolled her hand with an air of indifference. Most phages weren’t something to be noticed by her.

  Before I spoke next, Lizzie approached Lyshae, her little hand outstretched. We all stopped to watch as a beaming Lizzie let her hand fall on Lyshae’s iridescent shift.

  Lyshae’s discomfort was priceless. “What is the little mortal doing?” She furrowed her brows in confusion.

  “I think,” I said, fighting the laughter, “she’s petting you.”

  Lyshae frowned. “Please stop.”

  “No.” Lizzie made her point as she rubbed Lyshae’s leg.

  I couldn’t help it; I broke into rolling laughter. Ortiz joined in.

  Lyshae took Lizzie’s hand within her own. She patted Lizzie on the head with her free hand. Lizzie smiled. Lyshae returned it. It was what Lyshae did next that caused me lose it. Lyshae bent and motioned to slide her arms underneath Lizzie’s to pick her up.

  I covered the distance in a microsecond, putting myself between the two. I brushed Lizzie back a pace from the Kitsune. My voice dropped to a dangerous growl. “No way in fucking heaven, hell, or in all the damned Neravene will I ever let you pick that child up.” If my words weren’t enough warning, my glare certainly was.

  She took a step back and raised her hands in a peaceful gesture. “Honestly, I’m not a Kappa.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t whisk children away.” Lyshae flashed another smile.

  Kidnapping children may not have been part of Lyshae’s resume, but lying came too easy for her. She was a spirit of information and Lizzie could, at the very least, commune with ghosts. There was no end to the potential information Lyshae could glean from Lizzie. A child like that would be an untapped and wonderful resource for the Kitsune to exploit.

  We weren’t meeting under a truce. There was nothing binding Lyshae. If she wanted, she could try to take Lizzie. Chips of ice slid down my back as I wondered what would happen to the young girl if Lyshae took her—if Lyshae raised her. I gave a silent thanks that she wasn’t aware of Lizzie’s gifts.

  “No, you’re not a Kappa.” I gestured to the kid with my head, then to Ortiz. “Hey, why don’t you scuttle over to her.” Lizzie did as I asked, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The further I could keep the two of them away from Lyshae, the better. I gave Lyshae a level stare. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your interest in my friends as just that. There’s always more going on with you.”

  With a slight bow of her head, she agreed. “I have never once tried to conceal that from you. You, on the other hand, have your fair share of secrets, don’t you?”

  My finger slipped inside my collar and I gave it a light tug. It may not have been tight, but it felt it. I cleared my throat pointedly. “Beside the point. I called you here for help. Remember, I’ll owe you one.”

  She remained motionless save for her foxy ears twitching. On Lyshae, that simple ear twitch might as well have been a poker player screaming victory.

  When she didn’t say anything, I continued. “We’re after a phage. A Babylonian phage.”

  “Hm,” Lyshae mused but otherwise offered nothing helpful.

  “It’s been killing the patients here. Driving them crazy and reaching out to them. We need a way to find it, fight it, and gank it. Anything you might know or can find out would be of help.”

  “And for that information, you would render me your services?” A hungry smile appeared on her face followed by a discomforting light in her eyes.

  “Once.”

  Lyshae’s smile grew in tandem with the lump in my stomach. “Mmm, no.” She shook her head. “For that, you’ll have to give me more.”

  “The hell he will,” snarled Ortiz. “Charles, don’t make a deal with this freak. She’s a liar.”

  “No arguments here, Ortiz, but we need her.”

  Lyshae spoke as if my exchange with Ortiz hadn’t occurred. “I can tell you a few things about the phage. They’re older than I, significantly so—”

  “Makes you seem young in comparison. Must feel nice,” I muttered. Lyshae’s ears jostled, but she didn’t seem perturbed by my aside.

  “They exude a hallucinogenic in the form of black fog. It’s a type of Myrk in actuality.”

  That made sense. Myrk is a supernatural weapon of sorts. A great number of creatures implemented it. Its effects varied depending on the creature. Some used Myrk to obscure light sources, veiling them in an ink-like fog. Myrk doesn’t have a singular use because it’s more than a mass of black mist. It’s alive.

  Myrk is a living thing much in the way trees are. Trees may not be able to speak or physically interact with a person, but they live and grow. Myrk is the same. It feeds off light sources. It can grow. It can evolve. It’s shaped to the creature that uses it, which is what makes is so terrifying. The Babylonian phage used it to hide, but, more than that, simple contact with it could cause nightmares. It had reacted to me. The gunk had latched onto my arm and refused to let go, inducing one hell of a panic attac
k.

  The phage was a creature of fear. If its Myrk adapted to it, there was no telling how far it could twist a person’s mind.

  Lyshae spoke as I thought, going over details I was already aware of. I let myself ease back into listening, hoping she had something new for me.

  “—incredibly agile. They can manipulate their bodies like master contortionists. They have hearing better than that vast majority of beings I’ve encountered. It’s one of the ways they hunt.”

  My eyed widened. “By sound?” That was an impressive way to hunt.

  “They have little in the way of facial features, Charles.” Lyshae drew out the pronunciation of the name like it was a new sound for her.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “They have no eyes, no noses, and barely a mouth. Though they don’t need one. They don’t have ears that fit any definition I’m aware of, and yet their hearing is close to my own. Killing one is problematic.”

  “How so?”

  “Because”—she grinned—“there is only one way to kill a Babylonian Phage.” The grin became predatory and she chose that particular moment to fall silent.

  I waited, teeth grinding as I did. I peeked at my forearm. Another hour had passed. Fifteen hours left. The pressure in my jaw grew.

  “A stake made from the wood of a cypress tree, coated in olive oil, then run through a flame until the oil has burned.”

  “Where are we supposed to get that?” Ortiz piped up.

  I shrugged, but Lyshae had the answer of course.

  “I can procure what you need...at a cost.” Lyshae’s smirk remained.

  “I bet.” I scowled.

  “Finding the creature,” she said, “will be more difficult however. A Babylonian phage cannot linger on this side for long. They have to retreat to the Neravene to rest.”

  “They pull themselves over through force.” I was catching on.

  Lyshae bowed her head.

  Some creatures like the Babylonian phage aren’t just tied to a place, but a time as well. It hailed from Babylon. Not the physical location, but what it represented way back when. It was born there and was a part of that particular Babylon. That empire may have fallen, but the creature lingered on. When the home of a creature like that fades, the only option they have is to seek refuge in the Neravene. They can leave to feed, but that’s about it. It was probably holed up in its own little bubble of the Neravene, hopping over for an easy meal. Coming over and operating on the mortal plane took considerable energy—energy that had to be replaced by feeding. It was that or starve.