Wizard Unleashed

by Jamie McFarlane

  "You need to send police. Whoever hurt this man might still be here," I said.

  "What's your name?" the operator asked. More crashing came from inside the house and a small plume of dust billowed into the hallway.

  "Felix Slade," I said. "Someone's in the house. I'm hanging up."

  "Don't hang up, Felix," were the last words I heard as I stuffed the phone into my pocket.

  "Stay with Joe," I said.

  "Be careful, Felix," Gabriella said. She'd switched to a kneeling position and was loosening Joe's shirt.

  It's a classic mistake to split up when in a dangerous situation. Something powerful enough to take out a werewolf as strong as Joe Lozano demanded respect. The problem was, Gabriella wasn't about to leave a person down when she thought she could help. And I wasn't about to let the noises go uninvestigated.

  With ghost-lantern in hand, I slowly advanced down the center of the wide hallway. After fifteen feet, a doorway became visible on the wall opposite the stairs. One of the two heavy wooden French doors had been torn from its hinges and hung askew into what I suspected was an office. A deep voiced grumbled from inside the room. Sounds that didn't form recognizable words but resembled speech accompanied the sounds of objects being tossed on the floor and fabric tearing.

  "Shit." I doused the lantern and crept down the hallway, my boots crunching on fallen plaster and broken glass.

  Hugging the right wall, I advanced until I was even with the broken door and could peer into the room. A giant humanoid, heavily muscled and a full eight feet tall had its back to me as it methodically tore cushions from the ornate office furniture. The room was destroyed; books and all matter of debris covered the floor.

  The sound of heavy footsteps was the only warning I received as a second giant crossed in front of the doorway and looked out at me. For a moment, we just stared at each other, unmoving, unblinking. I thought there was a chance it hadn't seen me or processed my presence, since its face showed no sign of comprehension or recognition. One shoulder was covered with a drape of cloth cinched at the waist by a simple rope. Its face was outlined by thin, greasy hair and it sported blood-shot, yellowed eyes and a smattering of teeth. A single grunt was followed by loud snuffling as it tested the air. The grunt caused its compatriot to halt its destruction of the office and turn toward the door.

  Without warning, the giant in the doorway tipped back its head and bellowed, sounding like something between a horny bull and a coastguard foghorn.

  "Whoa. Hold on there, Handsome," I said, hands held defensively while preparing to back down the hallway.

  Handsome's uglier brother upended the ornate settee it had been tearing the stuffing out of, ripped off one of the legs and stepped toward the office entrance, snuffling like a dog on scent. With a single hand and almost nonchalantly, Handsome gripped the closed half of the French door and pulled it from the jamb. He tried to throw it at me, but the top corner caught on the inside wall and caused the door to cartwheel wildly. I raised an arm, but the bottom corner of the door caught my chin and sent me reeling.

  "Smell witch. Kill I."

  I was lucky they both had to duck to exit the office. It gave me a few seconds to backpedal toward the foyer.

  "Gabriella, get in the truck," I shouted over my shoulder. "We need to get out of here."

  With the door clear, Handsome stepped into the hallway with unexpected speed and swept a ham-sized fist through the space my head had occupied only a moment before. I had no doubt I wouldn't fare well if these guys got hold of me.

  "Adoloret." I shot a gout of flame up at the advancing brute and was momentarily mesmerized when all the spell did was burn away his makeshift shirt.

  "Witch puny." He stepped through my flames and attempted to stomp on me like I was a bug. I scrabbled to the side and looked around frantically for an escape. I didn't find one. The giant's reach was too long and his speed too great.

  Sparks bounced off Handsome's face. The telltale snap of Gabriella flicking a hex from her wand sounded as she landed several in a row. I'd seen the same hex successfully throw an animated corpse a foot or two, but the effect on the gray-skinned giant was negligible, other than as a minor distraction. A distraction I needed to take advantage of.

  "Scutum," I incanted, grabbing the silver oak leaf that hung on my leather necklace and holding my arm up protectively. A radiant shield glowed to life in front of me. It was one of my go-to spells and could be counted on in a pinch. Unfortunately, without offensive spells, the protection would only buy us a small amount of time.

  Handsome hammered on the shield and I felt his strength as my body was slammed into the floor. As he reared back for another strike, I pulled my legs beneath me and braced the shield with my other hand. A steady stream of hex sparks flew over my head. It was clear Handsome didn't appreciate the strikes, but they weren't doing much more than welting his skin. It was a tossup as to whether the marks were an improvement or not.

  His next blow was an uppercut and I was tossed into Gabriella, causing us to fall into a heap in the foyer. The sound of approaching sirens pierced the night. With a flick of my finger, I telekinetically released a loose piece of hanging plaster from the ceiling and dropped it on Handsome's head as I extracted myself from my tangle with Gabriella. I rushed forward and jammed my shield beneath the giant's belly, sliding down to one knee, bracing against the grimy flesh.

  "Law," Handsome's grisly companion grunted as he attempted to reach over the shield and grab me.

  I'd successfully wedged myself in so it would be difficult for either giant to get past me into the foyer. I leaned back even further as long arms came dangerously close to grabbing me. Hex sparks flew as Gabriella targeted the massive hands.

  "Damn," I cussed as a rebound hit my face.

  "Sorry," she said.

  For a moment, we reached an odd equilibrium; the giants attempted to grab me only to be rewarded with a stinging hex, resulting in a quick pull back. The cycle repeated itself a few times until flashing emergency lights illuminated the foyer through leaded glass windows.

  "Come soon. Smell you," Handsome said. With that, he turned and followed his companion down the hallway toward the back of the house.

  "Well, that was interesting," I said, sitting back and releasing the shield. "Are you okay?"

  "I ripped my dress," Gabriella said, her voice calm until she looked down. "And my shoes are ruined!"

  I smiled. Gabriella could handle a lot of chaos, but no one messed with her shoes.

  "What were those things?" I asked.

  "Big," she answered as a loud pounding started on the front door.

  "Leotown Police Department," a man's voice said from outside.

  I got to my feet as Gabriella knelt again by Joe. He hadn't moved the entire time we'd been under attack, although if he'd stood alone against those two brutes, I could understand why.

  "Mr. Rosen?"

  Two uniformed police officers stood on the stoop as I opened the door.

  "No. There's been a breakin and they might still be here," I said. "A man's hurt. We called for an ambulance."

  "I need you to step back," the lead officer said, eyeing me warily and placing his hand on the butt of his pistol. With his free hand, he reached for the microphone clipped to his shoulder and depressed a button. "This is Officer Oppelt requesting backup to 230 Country Clubs Oak Place."

  "Step over here with me," Oppelt's partner, Omer said, nodding away from the front door and Gabriella. "What happened here?"

  "They might still be in the house," I said. "We came to pick something up for work and got jumped."

  "Oppelt, the scene is active." Officer Omer drew his pistol and flashlight simultaneously.

  "They went back there," I pointed down the hallway. I hoped Handsome and his brother were long gone because the police issued revolvers looked positively small. The sound of breaking glass led me and the officers to believe otherwise.

  "Wait for backup. They're huge," I cautioned.
r />   "Are they armed?" Oppelt asked.

  I shook my head. "I don't think so."

  "Stay here," Oppelt ordered and nodded to Omer. The two walked cautiously toward the noise, guns up and at the ready.

  Aside from fresh contusions and unconsciousness, Joe looked better than when I'd last seen him. His transition from human to lycan had been hard. He had decided to leave his wife, Jennifer, and daughter, Sienna, behind. I'd kept my promise to look after them in his absence, regularly sending anonymous payments from a fictitious policeman's benevolence charity to help them stay afloat. They'd been forced out of their house, but seemed to be doing well in a nice apartment complex.

  "Freeze! Police!" Oppelt shouted from the back of the house. I couldn't help myself and bolted down the hallway, just in time to see Handsome backhand Omer and toss him rag-doll style across the room. Oppelt didn't hesitate and unloaded six rounds into Handsome's side. Not significantly deterred, Handsome turned toward Oppelt and roared, thick dark blood oozing from his bullet holes.

  I flicked my hand, opened Omer's belt holster, and drew his can of pepper spray to me. "Scutum!" I dove in front of Oppelt as Handsome charged. I aimed an arc of pepper spray – which, just for the record, blows back in the least bit of wind - and felt Handsome's impact on my shield. Through stinging eyes, I continued to zero in on the giant's face, causing him to howl.

  It was Omer who ended up tipping the balance in this fight. I heard the report of his gun coming from the other side of the room where he'd landed. Handsome finally turned tail, ran through a hole in the back of the house, and literally made tracks through the freshly fallen snow.

  Chapter 3

  Call Me Fannie

  "Any idea what they're doing?" I asked.

  Gabriella and I had been ushered into the living room after Lozano was taken away in an ambulance. A uniformed officer stood at the living room door for our protection.

  "Waiting for a detective," Gabriella said. "Uniforms will secure the scene. Since officers were attacked, they'll be extra diligent. It's procedure."

  Standing by the bay window, I looked out over an armada of police cruisers and emergency vehicles. The snow was falling fast enough that vehicle tracks and footprints were being filled in only minutes after they were made. The wind died down as the front had finally arrived and now big, white flakes were thick in the air.

  A plain blue sedan pulled onto the snow-covered lawn and parked next to my Suburban. Iveta Dukats, the lead detective on Clarita's mother's murder investigation, stepped from the passenger side, wearing an evening gown and black tactical boots.

  "I think she makes it work," I said, nodding out the window.

  Gabriella stood to see what I was looking at and ran her warm hand along my back, beneath my coat. "I wish I was wearing boots."

  Dukats must have sensed she was being watched because she looked straight at us. Annoyance flickered over her face as we made eye contact. The woman was as mundane as any I'd ever met, but she had a skill at sussing out truth. I knew she was still bothered by the FBI swooping in to cover up the Whyte Wood coven murders.

  For another thirty minutes, we waited in the living room. It was understandable that Dukats would need to get a lay of the land and our convenience would be low on her priority list.

  "There's another body," I said, causing Gabriella to once again join me at the window.

  "How do you figure?"

  I pointed down the street. "Coroner's van. I'd bet it's your client, Rosen."

  "Great," Gabriella said and was interrupted by the door opening.

  "Want to tell me what this is all about, Slade?" Dukats asked as she entered.

  "Not much to tell," I said. "Gabriella was here on business, but when we arrived we heard noise. Front door was open so we let ourselves in."

  "Have you found Mr. Rosen?" Gabriella asked.

  "He's dead. What kind of business were you here for, Ms. Valverde?"

  "Mr. Rosen is a client. I was here to pick up a piece of artwork. The firm I represent was acting as an escrow agent."

  "What kind of artwork?" Dukats asked, writing in her notebook.

  "Golden tablet, four inches by six. Jewel encrusted. Beyond that I'm not at liberty to discuss," she said.

  "Approximate value?"

  "Like most artwork, its value is subjective. Would you accept that it is valued in excess of one hundred thousand dollars?" Gabriella asked.

  "How much in excess?" Dukats pressed.

  "I really can't say. I recommend contacting Mr. Rosen's insurance company. The artwork is one of a kind and likely has a current appraisal."

  "Don't do the lawyer dance on me. I just got pulled away from my son's Christmas pageant and I'm not in a very good mood," she said. "You had a buyer, what were they paying?"

  Gabriella shook her head. "My firm is paid to keep these details in confidence. I've already said more than I should."

  "Your client is dead." Dukats sighed, but didn't push it further. "I assume you have someone who will verify what you've said?"

  Gabriella took a business card from her pocket and handed it to Dukats. "Call the office in the morning and ask for Mr. Benson. I've already informed him of the situation."

  Dukats turned back to me. "If I recall, you were a friend of Joe Lozano's and I don't believe in coincidence. What was he doing here? I thought he'd left his wife and moved to Texas."

  "He was unconscious when we arrived," I said. "Otherwise, you know as much as I do. I haven't seen him since he and Jen split up."

  "We'll need statements about what happened here tonight," Dukats said, changing the subject. "Tomorrow morning will be fine. Before I let you go, I'd like to get your take on something. You're something of an expert on the occult, right?"

  Gabriella and I followed Dukats back through the foyer, down the hallway and into the office where I'd first found Handsome and his buddy. It was a lot to take in. Shelves upon shelves of leather bound books had been dumped unceremoniously onto the floor and couch cushion material was sprinkled around the room like snow. Not a single piece of furniture in the room had survived.

  Centered on the back wall, between floor-to-ceiling shelves, sat a narrow, marble-topped altar that had been broken in two. Lying against the pieces was the grotesque, contorted corpse of a small man wearing a brown tweed suit, still clutching an ornate staff. It didn't take much for me to imagine that he'd been the victim of Handsome or his buddy, given his smashed-in face and twisted limbs.

  "What do you make of that rod he's holding?" Dukats asked as a photographer snapped shots of the body.

  "Mind if I get a closer look?" I asked.

  "Get Slade some socks and gloves," Dukats ordered a young uniformed officer as she pulled on a pair of black latex gloves. The socks she referred to were to cover my boots. "Paul, are you okay if we get in there?"

  A man wearing a jacket with the word ’coroner’ on the back looked up from the corpse. "Sure. Someone did quite a number on him, Ivy. The prints come back as George Rosen."

  "What about it, Slade?" Dukats asked as I crouched next to the body and peered at the writing on the staff.

  "Ceremonial. Looks like Mr. Rosen is into some pretty dark stuff," I said. "A lot of symbols I don't recognize, but those I do are early Persian; probably Akkadian. There's something about a dark queen.

  It could be a reference to death. Hard to say without a more in-depth inspection."

  "Is it valuable?"

  "Oh, hell yes," I said. "I'd bet money these are real gems around the head here. Engraved bronze. If this is an original piece, it's two-thousand years old. Even if it's a reproduction, the materials alone are valuable. I'd be careful with it. Staff like this is likely to bring out the crazies."

  "Already has," Dukats said.

  I ignored her not-so-subtle jab. "Did you get a picture of that?" I asked, pointing at the dark green wall behind the altar, dead center of which was a faded rectangular outline.

  "Is that where he kept the piec
e you were to pick up, Valverde?" Dukats asked.

  "It's the right size," Gabriella said from the door. "Otherwise, I wouldn't know. I've never met Mr. Rosen."

  "Okay to move the body?" Dukats looked at the coroner.

  "All yours," Paul replied.

  Dukats extracted the three-foot long staff from Rosen's grip. "Get this logged into evidence." She handed it to an officer who zipped it into a long plastic bag.

  "We'll need a statement first thing in the morning," Dukats said.

  "We're free to go?" I asked.

  "Officer Potts, would you see Ms. Valverde and Mr. Slade out?"

  We weaved our way through the never-ending stream of people and dodged the gurney as it came through the front door. In the three hours since we'd first arrived, four inches of fresh, powdery snow had fallen.

  "If you have a second brush, I'll help," Gabriella said through chattering teeth.

  I opened the passenger door for her and a cascade of snow fell off. "It'll just take a minute."

  Gabriella stumbled as her ruined dress shoe slid on the running board. I couldn't help but notice her mostly unprotected feet were covered in snow. I lifted her by the waist and slid her onto the cold, leather seat. "Adoloret." I pushed a small amount of heat energy into a blanket as I pulled it from the back seat and tucked it around her.

  "Ooh, that feels so good." She closed her eyes and pulled the blanket up around her chin.

  I made quick work of brushing off the truck. "Do you need to call your boss?" I asked as I jumped into the truck.

  "I just tried," she said. "He's not picking up."

  Shifting into four-wheel-drive, I pulled around the police cruisers blocking the drive, unworried about destroying the lawn of a dead guy. The police had left just enough room for us to squeeze by at the gate and the maneuver took most of my concentration.

  "Did you have any reservations about this assignment?" I asked. "Seems sketchy, asking a woman to visit a strange man's house after dark - especially now that he's a creepy dead man."

  "I think if Mr. Rosen had been alive, he'd have been a perfect gentleman. And … I believe that makes you a misogynist," Gabriella said. "For the record, Geoff didn't mention that Rosen was already dead or that he might worship ancient Persians. That said, I do believe we at Branaird, Benson and Skaggs will do just about anything for a five percent cut of a ten-million-dollar transaction, including sending a junior partner to a dead man's house in a raging snow storm."