Chimes At Midnight (The Grimoire Chronicles Book 3)

by Phaedra Weldon

  I put my hand on the doorknob. There was a flash, but nothing else. I hesitated.

  :Aw…you scared now?:

  I was starting to wonder if everyone inside this building could hear her the way I could hear her. If so, everyone would be up by now. I turned the knob and pushed the door open.

  I was immediately assaulted by a cornucopia of scents. I recognized frankincense, rosemary, peppermint, bayberry, rose, and something that could have been patchouli, but I wasn't sure. I didn't know if that was the combination of some incense burning or a quick run through of what her shop carried.

  Once inside, I conjured a small sun, something I'd learned early on in my acquainting with the book. It took the shape of a small golf ball and lifted to the ceiling and hovered. It was enough light to show me the interior, and I had to admit, the place looked a lot like my old store in Roswell, Georgia. The one I'd had all those years ago. The place where I'd met Mike Ross.

  There were displays of crystals, candles (which would explain some of the things I was smelling), incenses (the rest of the scents), Goddess statues, tarot cards, and from the sound of running water, there were fountains in here. I was pretty sure the place looked amazing with the lights on and in full swing with customers.

  Turning to face the back of the place, I saw a counter running along the wall. On the left was a computer and phone, as well as a few small displays of what Mike called last-minute-shit, the stuff the stores put up at the register so you'd impulse buy them. I spotted a novena to the right with several flickering candles in glass holders in primary colors.

  "Hello?" I called out, though not as loud as I probably should have. I felt a little guilty for breaking Sam's ward and just barging in, but I needed to know about Mike. "Anyone here?"

  I'd just put my hand on the counter when something very solid hit me very, very hard. I shot back, going airborne, and crashed into the small bit of brick wall between the door and one of the sets of windows. I was a little relieved I didn't smash a window or a display. Whoever lobbed that whatever at me made sure it avoided all kinds of damage to the place.

  Just…not to me.

  The impact knocked the wind out of me, and I dropped like a stone to the floor. A fit of coughing robbed me of my voice as I lay on my right side, supporting myself with my left hand on the hardwood and fearing a lung was going to explode if I didn't get air into it.

  I saw bare feet then, just outside of my hazy vision. The feet were tattooed with the hermetic symbols of Fire and Earth. Above the feet were the bottoms of what looked like pajamas with more printed symbols, only these were…Jolly Rogers?

  "Thought you could just waltz right in here, didn't you? Just because you're some bad ass Titan spawn?"

  Medbh cackled in my head. Dammit, she knew this was gonna happen.

  The voice was deep and masculine. Still coughing, I look up into a very angry goateed face. He had his hands in fists and one was glowing yellow, the other blue. Were…were those Elemental elements? "I don't—" was about all I was able to get out before he surprised me and, instead of using his balled fists, brought his foot back and then swung it at my head. The impact pushed me into one of the tarot card displays that would have been visible through the window if I hadn't just destroyed it. The sound of the table coming down was loud, and the card boxes and displays were hard and sharp as they hit me about the head and shoulders.

  My jaw hurt from the hit and I tried really, really hard to quell the fervent flipping of pages inside of my chest. The fluttering, all-too-familiar feeling of the Grimoire getting ready to either hurt or kill this person. I wasn't mad at him—I just wanted a chance to tell him I was not some…what did he call me?

  "Wow, you're not as tough as Crwys made you out to be," the guy said as he stepped back and then put his hands on his hips. "Now look at this mess."

  "Sorry," I croaked and coughed, desperately trying to bring air into my lungs. But my movement and retort just set this guy off again because I could see him rearing up to hit me in the corner of my eye. I had to act before the Grimoire did, before it took over and whatever spell it chose could literally turn this into a crime scene. I put my hand up and said, "Batiltu!"

  Everything stopped. Because that was what the spell did. It froze whatever I wanted it to freeze and wouldn't release it until I gave the command.

  I slowly got to my feet, still coughing, and faced this guy in his t-shirt, pajama bottoms, and bare feet. He was just a few inches taller than me and lean. I noted the silver pentagram around his neck and the Elemental power surrounding this fists. He was staring at me with a combination of panic and anger.

  I heard barking, then, and another voice in my head that wasn't Medbh's.

  Dags! You made it!

  It was Grey, Sam's wolf, and secretly, Sam's mom. Only Sam didn't know this. I did. And I'd promised Grey I wouldn't tell. I heard the creak of wood overhead and felt the familiar and subtle power of Samantha Hawthorne.

  Sammy's coming down the stairs.

  Grey, where's Mike?

  There was a pause. Let Sammy tell you.

  My heart skipped and I swore it dropped to my waist. What had happened to Mike that Grey couldn't tell me?

  Four

  A COPY CAT?

  Levi

  Detective Levi Tulose of the New Orleans Police Department rubbed at his eyes. He'd been up since noon and his nocturnal self, the part of him that preferred the night, was restless now. He hadn't fed in forty-eight hours. Levi wasn't panicked yet, since he'd gone much, much longer without blood before. But he was picking up his partner's over-the-top emotional mood swings, and that was making his stomach tighten.

  Levi wasn't your average cop in the Big Easy. He worked both day and night, though his strengths came in the darker hours. He also wasn't the average human either. In fact, he wasn't human at all.

  Not anymore.

  Levi was a Revenant, or in laymen's terms, a Vampire. But not the typical Hollywood variety. Those didn't exist. At least, he didn't think they did, given his long life and the memories afforded him by the demon inside of him, a very polite and sometimes emotional creature named Ashur.

  The tale of the human Levi Tulose and the demon Ashur was a story for another time. At the moment, he and his partner, Detective Crwys Holliard, were staring at the charred remains of a local troublemaker, just outside of a gas station a few streets past the French Quarter.

  Crwys had donned gloves and was picking over the body. Officers stood around as an ambulance arrived, though Levi believed a bus would have been a better call. Bus meaning hearse.

  They'd tentatively identified the burned victim as Cohen Gent, a local troublemaker. Tentatively because the only thing they had to go on was a half-melted driver's license found in a wallet in the body's back pocket. There was the other victim, a guy with a scar down his face and a head full of blond hair. He'd given his name readily. Leo Johnson, another name Levi and Crwys had been familiar with. Petty theft and breaking and entering charges. Several of them.

  Levi figured the ambulance was probably for Leo. The guy had no eyeballs, but he could talk, and he was talking non-stop.

  Some story about a kid in a black SUV, probably a Lincoln Navigator. They were gonna rob him, maybe do a little bodily damage too, but then the kid blinded him and a few minutes later he heard Gent screaming. The story fit the evidence but…

  Who in the hell would burn one guy and blind the other? Or even more important…what?

  Levi straightened his tie, pulled his slacks up just a bit at his thighs, and knelt down opposite of Crwys. Levi was always nicely dressed. Something he took pride in, even after a hundred years of living as a Revenant. It was a luxury that came with him from his early years as a human, living in poverty and having very little to eat, much less to wear. "Seems a bit like those bodies the Djinn torched?"

  "No." Crwys slowly shook his head. His partner wasn't a Revenant. He was white, handsome, with an edgy haircut and a lithe, but muscular physique
.

  Not a Revenant. But not human either.

  "Do you sense something similar? You keep staring at the body."

  "Not sure." He looked across the corpse at Levi. "What do you sense?"

  By you, Levi knew he was talking to Ashur. With a smile, Levi stepped back and gave control of the body to the demon. He knew how he shifted, just a bit, physically. How his usual amber eyes went black and his facial features sharpened. His voice would take on a duel sound as well, as Ashur utilized his vocal chords. Otherwise, most of the time, Ashur and Levi communicated with their minds.

  Crwys may have just wanted to speak silently, but Ashur would need Levi's enhanced senses to give Crwys an honest answer. Levi shivered as he and Ashur passed by each other. It wasn't a temperature induced shudder, but one of mutual respect and power. He knew Ashur loved him unconditionally and fought hard to keep him alive and healthy. And in return, Levi was devoted to his demon and would do what was necessary to keep it alive.

  Levi was a part of his body when Ashur had it, but in another sense, he wasn't. He became a passenger, a spectator, in the power that was Ashur.

  Levi's senses flooded with the scent of the corpse, opening wide to take in every facet of its being. He smelled the charred flesh, certainly, but underneath it he also smelled cologne, soap, aftershave, and booze. A lot of alcohol. No wonder this guy went up like a roman candle. "Whatever ignited him," Ashur said in its duel voice, "had plenty of fuel. I'd say he'd put away a pint and a half of bourbon."

  "Yep," Crwys said. "Which is why I'm not sure this body's like the ones Ripp'n Jack killed. He only burned the flesh on the muscle and nothing else. This is a deep burn."

  "It ignited internally."

  "Yeah." Crwys nodded to the ambulance. "How much of Leo's story do you believe?"

  "I believe that he believes it. I can't sense deception on his part. He might be a criminal, but he's frightened." Ashur/Levi winced. "He had his eyes removed."

  "Not just removed. They were literally burned out of their sockets. Now that"—Crwys pointed to the ambulance where Leo was being treated—"is what doesn't release the idea of this being Jack's doing. That kind of precision is what Djinns are known for."

  "But…Kyle said he threw the Djinn's bottle into the swamp, right?"

  "He did. I was there with him. But that's not saying it didn't break or some alligator didn't chomp on it, which is a really bad thing if that’s what’s happened.” Crwys stood and Levi did as well as Ashur relinquished control. Levi could tell the demon's thoughts were centered on this mystery. It loved puzzles.

  A familiar black car pulled up next to one of the black-and-whites. Crwys made a noise of irritation as Levi turned to watch their captain get out of the driver's side.

  Captain Prescott. She was short, mocha-skinned, with a no-nonsense haircut and a serious expression on her face. Levi liked her, but then, he also found her attractive. Not that he'd ever ask his boss out. He respected her position and being a woman in it, something Ashur also seemed to understand.

  Captain Prescott approached them, looked down at the corpse, and then looked sharply at Crwys. "I thought you said these killings had stopped?"

  "Not the same MO, ma'am." Crwys was polite, but Levi could sense the man's irritation. "This body's been burned through, where with the others it was only the flesh."

  "Copy-cat killings?"

  The two detectives exchanged looks over Prescott's head. Levi shrugged.

  Crwys said, "Not sure yet. The other victim has had his eyes burned out."

  "Say what?" She turned and faced the ambulance, and then looked back at the two of them. "You're kidding."

  "No ma'am," Levi said and gave her the story Leo Johnson gave them.

  "I see." She pursed her lips. "When Leo’s been treated, get him with a sketch artist so we can get a better idea of this kid."

  "Uh…ma'am?" Crwys said. "How is Leo going to know if the sketch is the guy?"

  Ouch. Levi winced. Crwys was right.

  Prescott shrugged. "Just do it. Does this station have any surveillance?"

  "It did," Crwys said. "Until the cameras were stolen."

  She made a rude noise. "I just love this neighborhood. Look, canvas or put these men out canvasing, but get what you can. I doubt anyone's going to miss Gent except Leo. And find out if there's any connection to the previous killings whatsoever." She looked at each of them, down at the body as the coroner's men began the task of putting the corpse into a black body bag, and then walked to the ambulance.

  Levi looked at Crwys, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. "What is it?"

  "I just…" He shook his head. "I thought, or I assumed, when we got the call, I'd sense Scylla here. I sensed him when he came into the city, but then he vanished. I don't know why or how."

  "If you can sense him, can he sense you?"

  "No. But Scylla will know me on sight. I haven’t really changed much since that time. You remember the story."

  Levi knew the history between Scylla and Crwys. In fact, he knew more than he wanted to know about these creatures and how they walk among humans, along with the Revenants. If humans had any idea just how many things of myth and legend moved around them, they would never leave their homes at night. "You sense anything else? I know that look."

  "It's what I said earlier about Ripp'n Jack's little container."

  "You're worried it broke."

  "Uh huh. And though Djinns can't last long without a body before they start to dissipate, I wouldn't put it past that bastard to live in a gator until some unsuspecting human came along and bam!" Crwys put his hands on his hips. "Tell Sykes and Surrey over there to do the canvasing and get back to us. You and I are heading over to Sam's. I think Kyle's staying with her till this whole thing with Dags and Scylla blows over."

  Five

  THE DJiNN DiD WHAT?

  Dags

  Sam seemed both happy and irritated to see me. Or that might have just been my imagination. She gave me a hug and asked me to release Kyle. I did by simply repeating the same Sumerian word. Kyle stumbled forward and the Elemental glow around his hands disappeared. We shared hesitant greetings just before a very happy and jubilant Grey nearly knocked me down when she jumped and put her paws on my shoulders.

  She licked my face and I hugged her, still seeing the woman I'd seen on my bed in Savannah that night, all those months ago. Once the hellos were done, we retired into the back through a door behind the counter.

  The rear of the building was mostly unfinished. There was a full kitchen to the right against a half wall. To the right of that was a staircase up. I assumed that was where the apartment was and where Sam had come from. A large, wooden table took up most of the middle space and I glanced at an herb station with plants all over it to my left. Another door just past that was open, and I could just see the edge of a desk.

  Sam immediately filled a kettle and set it on the stove before grabbing three cups and three tea bags.

  "Sam—"

  But she held up a hand and I sat at the table. Grey sat on the floor beside me and I idly scratched the back of her soft neck. Grey was a wolf. A really BIG wolf. Though, I was pretty sure Sam was telling her neighbors she was a dog. I didn't think anyone here in New Orleans would like knowing there was a wolf next door. Probably a wolf mix.

  Yes. She is.

  I eyed the woman wolf. Stay out of my head.

  Then don't think so loud.

  Sam set a steaming mug in front of me and then sat in the chair to my right with her own mug. Kyle set a honey pot and a sugar bowl on the counter. No artificial sweeteners in this place. I pulled the honey closer, but didn't use it yet. Sam looked… "Sam?"

  I looked at Grey. Is it Mike?

  Yes.

  "Darren," Sam began. "I'm not sure how to tell you this—"

  "Is he dead?" I blurted out. I'd sort of come out of my seat when I even considered Mike wasn't with me anymore.

  She put her hand on mine. It was warm and pulse
d with power. "No, he's not dead. He's upstairs sleeping."

  I was on my feet instantly. "He's okay? The Djinn isn't possessing him anymore?"

  But Sam held up a hand. "Darren, sit, please?" She waited until I was back in the chair. "Ripp'n Jack isn't in possession of his body anymore. That Djinn has been removed and dealt with. But as for whether he's all right or not—" Sam winced. "That remains to be seen."

  My heart pounded against my rib cage and I could feel the book flipping pages. To what end, I didn't know. "What does that mean?"

  Kyle put both of his hands on the table. "Through Mike, Jack did a lot of terrible things, Dags."

  I stared at him.

  "He murdered over a dozen people—that we know of. And they weren't pretty deaths."

  "Darren…" Sam brought my attention back to her. "We were able to exorcise the Djinn out, but Mike hasn't regained consciousness. So we're not sure…"

  When she let then sentence trail, I picked it up. "You're not sure if he'll be traumatized by what he—the Djinn—did." I was seeing the larger picture now. Being possessed meant that whatever creature had control of your body did what it wanted and you were powerless to stop it. The soul became little more than a passenger, along for the ride, with no way out of the bus. "Can I see him?"

  Sam patted my hand and stood. I did as well, and the three of us, along with Grey at my heels, went up the staircase.

  The apartment above the shop was small, but cozy. The stairs emptied into a living room with two sofas, one of which was mussed with sheets and a pillow, a coffee table, medium-sized flat screen TV, and a small fireplace. The other side of the room was a series of doors; the ones I'd seen from the outside. On the right was a small table with four chairs and a door into a cramped, but what looked like updated kitchen. Next to the kitchen was another door, and I could see a bathroom inside of there.