Grave Beginnings (The Grave Report, Book 1)

by Virdi, R. R

  She merely shrugged as if that was normal…it’s not, shaving cream is a several dollars, I know, I’ve checked. I once had to use a can to help kill something.

  “Thirty dollars for a couple ounces,” I mumbled, “drug dealers need to start selling Avon,” I prattled to myself as I completed the seal, well nearly, it still need to be empowered.

  Ortiz let out a nervous bark of laughter before asking, “done?”

  I waggled my in hand in a so-so gesture, “sort of,” I answered.

  Ortiz fixed me with a blank stare, waiting for me to elaborate.

  “It needs to be empowered, you know charged, like a battery in a phone,” I explained, “otherwise it won’t work and is essentially nothing more than lipstick.”

  “It is lipstick,” Ortiz responded in a matter of fact tone.

  “I know,” I said impatiently, “but empowering a seal also serves to protect it, it’s like laminating something, otherwise somebody could just ruin the seal and render it useless.”

  “Isn’t it useless now?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I replied through gritted teeth.

  She raised a singular eyebrow expectantly.

  “All seals need something to well activate them.”

  Ortiz snorted, “what like magic words?”

  I shrugged, “some, yes, this, no. Seals are different but they all need to draw power from somewhere, this one needs blood.”

  “So…you’re going to?” Ortiz began, letting the question hang in the air.

  I nodded, putting the vessel down on the floor and tossing Ortiz her ruined bit of lipstick.

  “Thanks,” she replied sarcastically as she caught it and unceremoniously flung it into her purse.

  I held out my left palm and picked up the silver stoker with my right, taking in a deep breath just as I was about to slice the soft skin open.

  That’s when the air around us became hot and continued to grow hotter until it was literally searing and then, well, the entire desk exploded! A burst of superheated air erupted all around us and then there was the sheer force of it, it sent Ortiz, James and myself flying violently. I didn’t really see it all happening so much as I felt it, one second I was about to finish the seal on the vessel and the next second I was impacting the ground, hard.

  “Ugh,” I groaned deeply as I pushed myself up off of the ground, “Ortiz?” I called out gruffly, sputtering as bits of the now confetti like desk rained everywhere, including my mouth.

  A voice groaned back in response, “a little shaken but fine, you?”

  I shook my head a bit and blinked several times before answering, looking ahead to where the desk was moments ago, I saw that there was absolutely nothing left. I mean not a scrap, what bits weren’t turned into sawdust and confetti, just weren’t there anymore. A whole massive desk was just gone, I’m pretty sure there’s some scientific law about not being able to completely destroy stuff and what not. Apparently the Ifrit did not seem to care much for the laws of science at the moment, the supernatural rarely do.

  In the space where the desk was, now stood the Ifrit, standing there but barely. The knee I had spiked earlier with the silver fire stoker was still oozing that black ichor like substance; her leg was also twisted in a horribly wrong angle. Her foot was…well sideway. I could tell by the way she was standing that it still must’ve hurt like hell, it was clear she was putting most of her weight on her other leg, that, and she was absolutely seething.

  “Not fine Ortiz,” I sighed, “not fine at all.”

  “Mortal,” boomed the Ifrit in that awful reverberating voice, “I’ve changed my mind.”

  I cast a nervous glance over to Ortiz who, despite just being in a mild explosion, looked to be fine. James on the other hand, well, he definitely did not look fine. James had already been in pretty rough shape before the desk was blown apart and we had been sent flying, he was emaciated and looked to be eighty. Now he was lying on the floor like a rag doll, looking limp and lifeless and there was a small puddle of blood pooling around his head.

  Ortiz saw me staring and followed my gaze to James’ limp and bleeding form; she turned to look back at me and gave me a quick silent nod before she began crawling slowly towards him.

  “So,” I said as I turned my back towards the Ifrit, trying to keep its attention fixed on me and not Ortiz, “what did you change your mind about?”

  “About killing you,” she replied as she started to make her way towards me, which was taking her a bit of effort considering one her legs was pointing the wrong way. What really surprised me was that she wasn’t dragging her leg but actually still walking on it, badly yes, but still, ouch!

  “Well that’s good,” I said with a sigh of relief, “I wasn’t all too fond—”

  “Slowly,” she added, her charcoal lips slowly widening into a voracious predatory smile, “I think I’m going to forgo pleasure and kill you quickly.”

  Well, that sucked.

  “Oh…uh…well,” I stammered as got back up to my feet and began backpedaling slowly, “you know what they say about making rash decisions.”

  An obsidian eyebrow quirked in amusement as she continued walking towards me, that shark like smile of hers widening and revealing more of those jagged gruesome teeth. “What can I say?” she began, upturning her wrist to open her palm where seconds later a white light burst into existence, a small ball of intense white flames floated an inch above her palm. It was no bigger than a softball, it just sat there in the air, streaks of white flames dancing atop the sphere, “I’m a bit of a hot head,” she added, giving a flip of her fiery hued hair to really make her point.

  I would have appreciated the fact that she had just made a joke if not for the fact that there was a white-hot fireball sitting in her hand that had my name on it.

  There was a scraping sound that drew the Ifrit’s attention along with my own, Ortiz had just reached out and whisked the Ifrit’s vessel off of the floor. She held it firmly in her grasp and I could see that the seal was still perfect, not a smudge or anything else to ruin it’s design, all it needed now was a bit of blood and it would be permanent.

  Nice going Ortiz, I thought ecstatically, if I could keep the Ifrit busy or put her back down again, I would be able to finish the seal.

  Apparently the Ifrit had noticed the little lipstick markings on its vessel as well as its significance, “Mortal,” she said but not in her usual booming and demanding voice, there was a hint of a plea in her tone.

  “That’s me,” I chirped pleasantly, “little old mortal who’s going to stuff you back in the bottle.”

  The Ifrit’s features changed, her glossy jet eyes widening almost in horror as she cast what looked to be a worried glance towards Ortiz before turning back to me. “Do not,” the Ifrit said firmly but not so firm that it was a command, it sounded like more of a strong request.

  I barked with laughter when I responded, “why the hell not?”

  “Do not,” she repeated, pausing for a long moment before adding, “please.”

  That last one nearly had me hitting the floor in laughter, she was begging for mercy, after all she had done? “Ah ha,” I said with a sigh, “that’s rich, you’re asking for mercy, ahhh,” I finished with another laugh.

  She just stared, no reply, just that terrified look on her face, it was priceless.

  “You want mercy?” I asked incredulously, “you want to what, be spared?” I said, my voice hardening, “how many people did you give mercy to, HUH?!” I shouted, my fists clenching in outrage as I thought of Marsha, of Ortiz having to endure all of this, of the innocent people who had died in the hotel fire.

  Again silence was her response.

  When I spoke again, my voice came out as a low venomous growl, “it’s no less than you deserve, to be trapped for eternity, no hope or way to escape.”

  “Deserve?!” barked the Ifrit disbelievingly, breaking her silence, “deserve?!” she repeated angrily. "You think I deserve this?!” she continued in outra
ge, her body shaking and the intensity of the flames in her hand increasing, the little white ball of flames began to pulsate violently.

  “I think you deserve do die,” I said acidly, “you’ve murdered innocent people, you’re a monster…literally.”

  “Did my kind deserve to be bound, to be enslaved by yours!” she snarled, “Murder,” she scoffed, “what do you think your kind used me for?” she said with a bitter laugh. “Don’t pretend to be so noble, your kind are the murderers, your kind used mine to kill your own! Your kind used mine to enrich your own lives, to impoverish others, do not presume to lecture me about what I DESERVE!” she roared.

  “And that gives you the right to kill innocent people today, what, someone ages ago made you their bitch and you take it out on innocent people?!” I roared back, “cry me a river.”

  “It’s no less than you deserve,” she replied in mockingly sweet voice.

  “What?” I barked angrily, “you want me to feel sorry for you, is that it? You were bound, get over it, you’re free now, you had a choice, you still have a choice, you didn’t need to do any of this!” I shouted.

  “Choice?” she exclaimed haughtily, “what choice?” she sneered. “Do you know what it is like to be a slave? To be bound into servitude!” she roared, “to cater to the whims and desires of another being!? Do you know what it’s like to have to no control over your own life, to be put to work by another!?”

  Wow, looks like I wasn’t the only one getting the shaft when it came to my job, but then again, I didn’t go around killing people out of vengeance and spite.

  “I have no choice,” she said with utter finality.

  I sighed deeply before speaking, “then neither do I,” I said softly.

  The white pulsating ball of fire that sat in the Ifrit’s hand began to sink to the ground as she slipped her hand away from underneath it. It sank much like an autumn leaf, gracefully, weaving about through the air very slowly. Upon hitting the floor it began to compress and flattened out, widening across the floor until it was a pool of blindingly white flames dancing across the museum floor. I was impressed at the fact that it hadn’t actually manage to set the place ablaze, the pool of flames just sat there for a moment, harmless, not burning a single thing almost as if they weren’t real.

  The flames began to recede until they were merely an inch high, bulbous shapes that resembled the original white ball of flames began to form inside the pool. They took form fast, some were growing to the size of a football, others were starting to get as big as poodles.

  “Uh, those look familiar,” commented Ortiz, breaking the silence she had kept during my verbal exchange with the Ifrit. The creatures had now formed stubby legs and resembled amphibious creatures; salamanders with a ridge of flames across their backs; only the creatures and flames were completely white.

  “Yeah,” I croaked, “yeah they do.”

  The Ifrit thrust her head back defiantly and bellowed in outrage, “kill them, KILL THEM BOTH!

  The creatures shimmied together simultaneously before the ridge of flames along their backs burst into larger flames; they released a chorus of high-pitched wails in unison and charged.

  “Why do the monsters never take the option to go down without a fight?” I muttered sullenly to no on in particular.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Ortiz!” I barked, “amscray!”

  She hesitated, looking down at the vessel and then back up at the Ifrit and the approaching horde of salamanders and then lastly to James, he was lying there on the floor but the bleeding had stopped.

  “Ortiz!” I barked again.

  She started back pedaling, but she didn’t take her eyes off James, “what about him?”

  “Leave him!” I shouted back.

  “But he’s—” She argued.

  “I know!” I shouted again, Ortiz knew that James was sadly our best bet at stopping the Ifrit, a selfless wish would bind the Ifrit once again and with our help, it would be permanent. None of that could happen if James died…but then, none of that would happen if we died!

  So I didn’t really give Ortiz much of a choice, I ran over to her, grabbed her by the arm, hard, and pulled her along with me.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “I dunno,” I replied, “how ‘bout running for now, you know, staying alive,” I said, nodding towards a section of the museum up ahead.

  “Take this,” she panted, handing me the vessel as we ran into the small mammals section of the museum.

  Taking the vessel was a bit hard while running for my life but I managed, I even managed to cast a quick glance over my shoulder without running into some priceless museum thingamabobs.

  The Salamanders were fast, faster than the one we had encountered back in the hotel, but strangely and fortunately, they weren’t secreting that napalm like fluid and setting the entire museum on fire. Guess the Ifrit didn’t want to set off the alarms and bring in the authorities; she wanted to keep things contained, fine by me. I really didn’t want to be partially responsible for burning down a museum.

  A quick succession of reports rang out of the blue, nearly causing me to fumble; those gunshots were even louder than the ones Ortiz had made before. I looked over as we ran to see that she was now brandishing a 1911 series handgun, no doubt discharging those famed wallop packing .45 caliber rounds.

  The hell did she get that from? I wondered in amazement. It seemed Ortiz’s purse, like many a woman’s, really did have no end to it.

  Two more gunshots rang out, dropping a pair of the salamanders pursuing us.

  “God I hate these things,” cursed Ortiz.

  “Yeah,” I panted, “they suck, by the way Ortiz.”

  “Yeah,” she replied.

  “Where’d you get the gun? Most magicians pull adorable bunnies out of hats, not ear blistering handguns out of purses.” I quipped.

  “Security desk.” She said briskly, turning to discharge another round before speaking again, “dug through it,” she clipped and then fired off another round, “figured it’d be handy.” She finished with another gunshot.

  “No arguments here,” I said loudly, trying to talk over the sound of yet another gunshot.

  “We can’t keep doing this Norman.”

  “I know,” I replied through gritted teeth.

  “Then what do we do?” she asked desperately.

  “I’m thinking, just keep shooting!” I shouted back.

  Another succession of shots rang out, “think fast!” Ortiz shouted, “I’m running out.”

  It was hard to discern what that noise was at first, what, with Ortiz and I running for our lives, shouting and the gunshots, who notices a ring tone?

  “Ortiz!” I shouted, trying to compete with another gunshot.

  “What?”

  “Your phone,” I said, pointing towards the source of the ringing.

  “What?”

  “Your. Phone!” I repeated much slower, jabbing my finger once again at the phone.

  She looked a bit surprised that someone would be calling her at this hour but she pulled out the phone anyways, an angry look coming over face as she looked at the screen. “Seriously,” she scoffed, “telemarketers at this hour?”

  Now it was my turn to say, “what?”

  “It’s a blocked number, who else?” she replied, moving her thumb over the little red button to hang up.

  A sudden notion occurred to me.

  “Wait!” I blurted out, shocking her into nearly dropping the phone, I didn’t wait her to respond before I snatched the phone from her hands and answered.

  I could here her mutter something angrily behind me, followed by another gunshot.

  “Yeah, uh, hello!?” I shouted, my hands cupped around the speaker to make sure they, whoever they were, could here me.

  “Graves,” said a very familiar deep voice.

  “God have you got great timing,” I began, “look, I’m being chased by yet another pack of—” I started to say before bein
g cut off.

  “I know Graves,” replied Gnosis.

  “You know? The hell could you possibly know that?” I asked in surprise.

  He inhaled deeply before answering, clearly he was irritated at something, well it obviously couldn’t have been me, because me, irritating? That’s absurd.

  Anyways, before he could respond, I had cut him off, “wait scratch that,” I said, “you got anything that can help me out?”

  Another gunshot rang out.

  “Damnit Ortiz!” I shouted, covering the speaker to prevent Gnosis from hearing me, “can you cut that out?”

  Ortiz didn’t reply, well not with words, she did shoot me a deadly glare that pretty much conveyed more than words ever could.

  I pointed at the phone and opened and closed my hand several times to resemble a talking gesture, then I silently mouthed the word “important,” pointing in the direction of where the Ifrit was.

  She nodded silently and stopped shooting.

  “Sorry about that,” I panted, I was having to run harder now that Ortiz had stopped capping those fiery sons of bitches.

  “I was just about to advise you to tell your Federal Agent friend to stop shooting and conserve her ammunition.” He replied.

  “Uh, why?”

  “You’re going to need some Graves,” he paused for a moment, “to kill the Ifrit.”

  “What?!”

  Ortiz shot me a curious glance and mouthed a “what?” of her own.

  I held up a finger, telling her to give me a moment. “Ah, could you repeat that, sounded like you said kill the Ifrit?”

  “What?!” blurted Ortiz.

  “I know, that’s what I said.”

  She looked at me and gave a slow disapproving shake of her head.

  Right then, no time to be funny, back to business then.

  “You heard what I said Graves,” he said testily.

  “Yeah well then hurry up with it,” I panted impatiently, “kinda busy trying not to be immolated here!”

  “You’re aware of the properties of human blood?” he asked simply.

  “Yes,” I growled, I was getting angry now; he knew that already I knew that.

  “Rounds covered in the blood of a human of pure soul,” he informed me.