Grave Beginnings (The Grave Report, Book 1)

by Virdi, R. R

  Ortiz calmly walked up to the door and glanced back at me, “how do you want to play this Norman?” she asked.

  I walked up right besides and rapped my knuckles on the door several times, “how about like this?” I said with a smile.

  She rolled her eyes and muttered; “smart ass,” under her breath but I heard it.

  We waited for a few moments, I was late or early I guess depending on how you viewed things, Marsha would probably take sometime in answering the door. After waiting for long enough, I knocked again, this time noticeably harder and louder. A few moments passed again, no sound or response from within, Ortiz and I exchanged nervous glances.

  “You don’t think she’s on to us do you?” she asked.

  “Or worse,” I whispered, “maybe the Ifrit’s got her too.”

  “You’re just a ray of sunshine aren’t you?” she retorted.

  “I can be,” I replied, “what now?”

  Ortiz didn’t answer but instead began fishing through her coat pockets and removed a small black zipped up pouch. I instantly knew exactly what it was, a government issue lock pick set, my hunch was correct as seconds later she unzipped it an produced a torsion wrench and a rake pick.

  “This is breaking and entering you know?” I whispered to Ortiz.

  She produced a low snort and replied, “it’s only entering, I’m not breaking in.”

  “Still,” I began, “this is fairly illegal, even for a fed.”

  She shot me a vicious glare as she slip the torsion wrench in and began applying a light amount of pressure to the lock. She then slid the rake pick in and began moving it rapidly, even though this would work, it was still taking too long for my tastes and Marsha could’ve been in danger…or the danger.

  I cocked my leg back, visualizing where my heel would strike, right above the doorknob where the wood was weakest. I sent my heel crashing into the door, the wood around the lock splintering; the door gave way and opened…much to the dismay of Agent Ortiz.

  One second I was standing there all smug with a smile on my face quipping, “now it’s breaking and entering, come on.”

  And the next, I was being jerked by my collar pretty forcibly by Agent Ortiz who hissed, “what the hell is wrong with you?”

  I shrugged, “lots, lots and lots of things.”

  She shook her head and gave me a reproachful look, “someone could have heard that, you could have tipped her off.”

  I gave a mock bow and flourish of the hands in the direction of Marsha’s apartment, “then we best inside ASAP.”

  She gave me another disapproving look and muttered quietly, “you belong in an insane asylum you know that?”

  “Maybe for my next case,” I replied.

  She ignored my comment and entered Marsha’s apartment, I followed right behind her, looking back into the hall cautiously before closing the door as quietly as I could.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marsha’s apartment was nice, small but nice, a quaint and cozy aura hung around the place. We walked over her cinnamon and nutmeg checkered wooden floor in the dining/living room. Since the place didn’t have all that much space, Marsha seemed to have gone to great lengths to maximize what space she did have. In the middle of the room was a circular dark wooden table with miniature shelves running between its legs serving to hold a small collection of various books. Against the wall was an old faded and dull looking gray couch with amber colored pillows resting at either end, above it and screwed into the wall was another small but lengthy shelf made of simple stainless steel. Even though there were clearly signs of someone living there, the place felt strangely empty.

  Ortiz nudged me in the ribs with an elbow and gave me a puzzled look and shrug.

  I shook my head, I didn’t know how to respond, it seemed that we had both come to the same conclusion, which was that no one was home. It certainly felt like no one was home.

  “You think she left?” Ortiz whispered.

  “Not sure,” I whispered back, “maybe she heard us and thought it was a break in, might be hiding.” I replied.

  “And whose fault is that?” hissed Ortiz.

  I just rolled my eyes and pressed forwards, passing a small round black metal table surrounded by high darkish wooden chairs. I motioned for Ortiz to check out the kitchen, which was nothing more than a narrow yet lengthy inlet in one of the sides of the apartment walls. While she was busy with that, I moved on to the bathroom, which like the rest of place was decidedly small. A small red fuzzy bathroom mat sat on the white and black-checkered floor before the sink and toilet, nothing askew here. I swept the place over, looking for any residue of soot but turned up nothing, gently brushing the bathtub’s red and white striped curtains aside to check the tub as well but nothing.

  I let out a silent curse, not that I was hoping to find something here because that would implicate Marsha and —

  My chain of thought was interrupted by a sharp and sudden gasp, I almost didn’t hear it but the walls of this place must’ve been thin because I did. I bolted out of the bathroom and to the only place in the apartment that we hadn’t searched, the bedroom.

  “Marsha!” I shouted as soon as I entered. There, not more than five feet away from me, was Marsha Morressy atop her bed and being strangled it seemed…by nothing but thin air. Her pale green and blue blanket was on the floor, she writhed violently on her bed dressed in a simple pastel purple nightgown. Her legs were kicking up and down, her hands clasped to her throat.

  “Ortiz!” I shouted desperately as I ran up to her trying to restrain her and figure out what the hell was going on. Her eyes were bulging, she was horrified and so was I, I couldn’t do anything. Tears began streaming down her cheeks while I was still struggling to hold her, her eyes shone with recognition as well as a silent plea for help.

  Ortiz came running in within seconds of me having shouted for her, “my God,” she whispered in horror.

  “Help me,” I said hoarsely, “help!” I shouted, louder this time.

  She ran up on the other side of the bed, taking Marsha’s arms and pinning them down as I tried to find out what was causing her to choke. It was hard to find out if there was anything lodged in her throat with the room being dark and I didn’t have time to go flipping on light switches. I hopped onto the bed and straddled her waist, intertwining my hands; I began administering a series of abdominal thrusts to her. It wasn’t working and both Ortiz and I were quickly beginning to panic as well. I continued the abdominal thrusts until I heard her gasping begin to cease; I almost breathed a sigh of relief, almost. The gasping didn’t stop so much as change to a gurgling sound and Marsha’s frantic writhing began to slow and weaken.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” I began dribbling weakly as Marsha’s struggling began to cease completely. “Fight it,” I said hoarsely but it didn’t do any good, seconds later Marsha Morressy stopped moving all together, her eyes still wide and filled with horror, staring back at me. I shut my eyes hard and turned my head, a mixture of sorrow and some of the greatest anger I had ever felt surging through me.

  “Norman,” said Ortiz in a hushed and soothing whisper, “you couldn’t have done anything.”

  I don’t know what came over me but the next instant I turned to face Ortiz and said, “you know that huh? You know that?!” in an extremely harsh tone.

  She looked taken aback, even in the dark I could see her eyes widening in shock.

  It wasn’t fair, Ortiz had come to help me try and save Marsha and I was taking my anger out on her. Here was someone who resolved to help me in my line of work when by all rights she should have already arrested me for breaking all manner of laws. She had put her life on the line for me, me, the so-called badass who could solve this one case. I was not used to this, I work alone, always have and this is why, I’m not good with people and even less adept at handling failure.

  I was ashamed; I couldn’t look her in the eyes when I muttered my apology.

  “It’s not your fault Norman,” sh
e said gently and reassuringly, “look.”

  At that I turned to look at what she was pointing at, I didn’t notice at first because I was preoccupied with trying to save Marsha but it was hard to miss now. Surrounding Marsha’s delicate and deceased frame was a thin layer of soot, hell; it was everywhere now that I looked. The bedspread was peppered with the stuff; her fallen blanket was caked in it and even her clothing.

  Anger erupted inside me once again, Marsha had been nothing more than another victim of the Ifrit, this thing was really starting to piss me off!

  Ortiz came and sat besides me on the bed, speaking in soft tones, “what do we now?”

  “Phone,” I said gruffly.

  “What?” she replied, confusion in her voice.

  “Give. Me. Your. Phone.” I growled slowly.

  She reached into her coat and pulled out her cell phone, handing it to me gently. Without muttering a single word of thanks, I began dialing.

  “Who are you calling?” she asked.

  I ignored her and continued listening to the phone ring, praying that they would answer. After what felt like an eternity of annoying ringing, someone finally answered, “Graves,” I said rather brusquely.

  “Who is Graves?” asked Ortiz.

  I continued to ignore her, within a second I was transferred and a familiar voice answered the phone.

  “I thought our business was done Graves,” said the voice.

  “Fuck that!” I snarled, “you’re helping me ‘till I’m done, that was the deal pint size!”

  I could almost feel Gnosis’ eye’s narrowing in anger on the other end because when he spoke, it was in a deadly silent whisper. “People,” particular emphasis on people, “don’t really speak to me that way,” he said, “the ones that do well…” he trailed off.

  I couldn’t give a damn about his threats at the moment, Gnosis could and would make good on them if felt he was seriously wronged but I die all the time so screw his threats.

  “Don’t threaten me!” I growled back.

  “Threaten?” whispered Ortiz, leaning close by to try and listen in.

  “You need me, you know that,” I began, “I saved you, you owe me!”

  “You can’t keep dangling that high over my head Graves,” was his all too calm reply, it sounded as if he really didn’t give a damn about my problems.

  “It’s not like I have to dangle it that high,” I retorted.

  “I’m hanging up now,” he replied.

  “Wait!”

  Silence, silence as in no click, meaning he hadn’t hung up.

  “I’m dealing with an Ifrit,” I said. I didn’t hear a reply per se but heard a sharp inhale more like a hiss, that revelation caught him off guard.

  “Well…that…changes things,” he said slowly.

  “It does huh?” his quick change came as a surprise to me, I couldn’t quite believe that he was all ready now to help me.

  “Yes,” he replied, “I supplied you with information to help you deal with it, if you are unsuccessful, it may come after me, after it’s through with you of course.”

  So the little bastard was more concerned with his own safety, fine, so long as he helped me take it down. “So how do I kill it?” I asked.

  No answer.

  “Do the same rules apply to an Ifrit as a normal Jinn?” I asked.

  “An Ifrit is a forbearer in many ways to the Elemental you encountered,” he explained, “that’s why it can control such creatures with ease.”

  “How do you know about that?” I asked, thoroughly surprised.

  “Really Graves?” he scoffed, “you should know by now how good I am at my job, it’s why I am where I am.”

  “Fine, whatever,” I growled dismissively, I didn’t have time for his bragging. “How to I gank it?”

  “Graves,” he said in an exasperated tone, “an Ifrit’s old enough to be considered primordial. You don’t gank it.”

  “Well I’m open to suggestions, I’m assuming that silver dipped in blood of a victim still does something right?” I said.

  “Well it won’t kill it like a normal Jinn but it will hurt,” he replied.

  “That’s a start,” I said with a sigh of relief.

  “Not much of one,” said Gnosis, “hurt and kill are not synonyms, you are aware of that aren’t you Graves?”

  “Then?” I said, letting the word question hang in the air.

  “A mortal king found a way to bind Jinns in the past,” he answered.

  “Solomon? He’s kind of dead you know, real dead.”

  When Gnosis spoke, he adopted the tone of someone speaking to a rather dimwitted child, “I am aware of that Graves, it is my job to be aware of things…or did you forget?”

  My teeth started grinding against each other, “Give me something Short Round or I’m coming after you next!”

  “Eeek,” replied Gnosis in mock terror.

  “Give. Me. Something. Useful. Now.” I said, emphasizing every word slowly, dangerously, making sure he knew I was getting really angry now.

  The next instant the phone vibrated against my ear.

  “What the hell?” I said as I pulled the phone away from ear to see a little symbol appear, it was indicating that I had gotten some message or file or some crap, I’m not a phone guy obviously.

  “The seal,” Gnosis said simply.

  “What?”

  “The. Seal.” He repeated albeit much slower, he must’ve really thought I was stupid or something… the little ass hat.

  I began fumbling with the phone, tapping the screen with my fingers and struggling to make whatever he sent me to appear.

  Agent Ortiz grabbed the phone from my hands and spoke, for the first time in a while since I started the conversation. “Give me that,” and she did…something and then handed the phone back to me.

  There was an image now showing on the screen, it looked like an ancient scrawling, a circle in which there was a series of intersecting lines that resembled a compass or a very thin star. “Great,” I muttered sardonically, “what do I with it?”

  “Use it to trap the Ifrit,” he said, pausing before adding, “forever.”

  I let out a low whistle, “forever huh? Well I’m assuming I can’t throw the phone at the damn thing so I how do I use it?”

  “Put the genie back in the bottle so to speak,” he replied.

  “And uh, how exactly do I do that?”

  “Whoever releases an Ifrit can force it back into its vessel by making an unselfish wish,” he answered.

  Well that actually made sense; Ifrits preyed on the greediness of mankind, granting selfish wishes to enrich whoever asked and in the end, they all went horribly wrong. A case of tragic irony and these things got off on it, a selfless wish was the exact opposite, almost water to fire in this case and that really applied. I mentioned earlier that the supernatural are really big on rules and traditions, hell, I’m bound by a fair bit of them. So, trapping a creature whose whole MO. was getting people to make selfish wishes, really could be as simple as getting someone to make a selfless wish. It’s like changing the rules in the middle of a game, it’s a disruption and in the case of the Ifrit, it would hopefully be disruptive enough to its energies that it would be forced back into its vessel.

  “Thanks.”

  He didn’t reply, there was just an audible click and the phone went quiet.

  “Well, talk about bad phone etiquette,” I murmured.

  “Look who’s talking,” replied Ortiz, reaching out to take her phone back from my hands.

  “There a way to make sure you don’t lose that picture?” I asked her. I was referring of course to image Gnosis had sent me via… well whatever it is that let’s phones do that.

  I can be an antiquated soul of sorts at times.

  Ortiz replied with a nod and asked, “what exactly is it?”

  “A seal,” I answered, “if we can get the Ifrit back into it’s vessel, whatever that is, we can carve or draw this seal on the vessel and t
rap the thing forever.”

  “And how exactly to we get it back into the vessel?” she asked.

  I sighed, “that’s the hard part, we have to find whoever let it out and convince them to make a selfless wish.”

  “You mean, essentially force them to give up the possibility of getting any more wishes.”

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  Ortiz closed her eyes and let out a heavy breath, “that’s not going to be easy.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Anyone who’s become accustomed to having their wishes granted isn’t going to give that kind of power up just because we ask them to Norman.”

  “I know,” I sighed.

  “We still don’t know where or who this thing is.”

  “I know that too,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “So what now?”

  I looked back crestfallen at Marsha, lying there on the bed, laying there dead because of me in a way. It took me a moment to realize that my fingers were digging deeply into the meat of my palms, my fists tightly clenched in anger. When I spoke, it was a harsh and rough tone, “now we find who let the Ifrit out, find one, find the other.”

  Ortiz began chewing her lip again, she had done it every time she was nervous or engrossed in deep thought, I was hoping it was the latter. “Well,” she murmured more to herself than me, “it has to be an employee of the museum, it just has to be.”

  “All of victims have been museum employees,” I added, continuing on her train of thought.

  “And Marsha,” Ortiz said a bit weakly, pausing for a moment, her eyes tight shut before deciding to speak again. “And Marsha, she had work experience with Middle Eastern culture right?” she said more as a question.

  “Damnit!” I roared, bolting up from the bed in absolute outrage, how could I have been so damn blind? I thought angrily, cursing my stupidity.

  “I know who’s behind all of this, I know who the monster’s posing as!”

  Ortiz didn’t utter a single word, she just got up from the bed and was standing besides me all in an instant, “come on then,” she said tugging on my arm.