by C C Sommerly
“It’s really important. It might involve something big, Garen. I mean the kind of big that could wipe out half of the city.”
“I can –”
“No, he’s with me and has barely started. Can we continue?” whined the man
“Shut your face,” I called out to him.
“She can’t talk to me that way,” said the man. “This is outrageous.”
“She can and she just did. I’d advise you to be quiet or risk losing body parts,” said Garen.
“I expect a discount for this treatment.”
“You either wait or try to get another appointment. I assure you I’m pretty booked up for the next year.”
The man swore.
“I didn’t think it would be a problem,” said Garen, who let me in and led me into a side room.
The chinchilla, which had been quiet and motionless until now, took the opportunity to jump from my arms. I’d been careless and should have had a tighter grip on it. I tried to grab its tail, but missed.
Garen leaped for the animal, that at this point, was climbing the curtains. He tore down the curtains and the curtain rod, but didn’t get the animal. I laughed. Seeing him tangled with curtains and looking so forlorn for missing, was funny. The chinchilla chirped and I threw myself on top of it. It didn’t make another sound or move. I really hope I didn’t kill it. Livinia would be so mad.
He picked himself off the ground and didn’t meet my eyes. I shouldn’t have laughed. I embarrassed him. Garen was more sensitive than most people. He helped me to my feet. I had the chinchilla firmly in my arms.
“Are you two done with your funny business. Get laid on your own time,” said the man from the other room.
Garen’s face turned bright red and he quickly looked down.
“Let me get you a box or bag for the animal,” he said as he bolted from the room.
That wasn’t awkward at all.
Garen came back with a large burlap sack. He held it open, so I could stuff the animal inside of it. Now that the excitement had worn off, I needed to talk with him.
“So, would you like a seat?” Garen asked while wrangling his hands.
“I’m okay. I won’t be here long.”
“So what can I help you with?” he asked.
“I want to talk to you about some tattoos.”
“I thought you weren’t here for a tattoo. What’s your question about tattoos?”
Where to start? I was going to sound crazy when I told him. He watched me with open and wide eyes. His were chocolate brown and matched his light brown hair. I’d always thought he was handsome. If Callie was here, she’d be proposing to him on the spot. That girl was boy crazy.
“Just hear me out. This is going to sound weird and I’m getting this second-hand. I’m investigating a mage, who has rune-like tattoos that move.”
“Move?”
“I don’t really have a description of these runes or tattoos. I know they are a dark color and are patterns of some time. Unfortunately, I don’t know much more than that.”
“Marty, while I’d love to help, I can honestly say that I’ve never heard of any kind of rune or tattoo that moves. In my twenty-five years, this is the first time I’ve heard of this.”
“It’s okay. I have other leads I can pursue.”
“Wait. I may not know, but I can inquire with some other rune mages. Maybe one of them has heard about something like this.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I’m sorry that I couldn’t help you. Can I make it up to you over dinner?”
“If your friends know something, then you won’t need to make it up to me.”
“Maybe I want to.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He saw me out of the house. And I tried to ignore the feeling of his eyes on me as I walked to Livinia. Garen was interested in me. Who would have thought? I already had one handsome man complicating my life, why add another. Not that Lochlan was my guy, but he was a major complication.
I didn’t even need to knock. As I neared her house, the door opened and Livinia popped her head out.
“I’ve been expecting you.”
It never failed. No matter how many times I’ve been here, and they were more than I ever wanted, she always knew when I was coming.
“Come this way. Please give me the offering,” said Livinia.
I reached into my bag and brought out the squirming chinchilla. It barked in that frantic sound a scared animal gets. Its soft fur tickled my arm and I steeled myself for what came next. This little fellow had a purpose here.
She might call it an “offering,” but it was a sacrifice. Livinia required that any sacrifice should be a hardship for the person requesting her services. The more attached you were or the more you liked that type of animal, then the better the results. This was one of my favorite animals and was something I’d wanted since I was a kid. In fact, I tended to care more about animals than people, with the exception of Jennica and a very select few.
Livinia carried the animal by the scruff of its neck into her shop and next to the blood-stained alter. On top of the alter was an athame that was rumored to be a dragon-boned dagger, but I doubted that. No dragon willingly gave up its bones because of the power infused in their bone. Dragons, upon death, were typically committed to a funeral pyre and burned by their surviving kin to keep such magic out of the hands of supernaturals.
“Get the bowl ready and ask your question to the spirits.”
“How can I find Jennica?”
With a swift and practiced stroke, Livinia split the animal from gullet to groin, its organs spilling out. She impatiently gestured me closer, so I could help hold the bowl the blood was pouring into.
On an earlier visit, I asked why the animal needed to die if she just needed its blood. She replied “It’s used for my work. If curiosity killed a cat, what might it do to you?” That I knew this much about what she did was enough. I had no interest in learning what the blood was used for.
Livinia, sorted through the entrails humming a chant in the incense-filled room. The musky and sweet scents mingled in a nauseating potpourri with the coppery tang of blood. Livinia’s now opaque eyes blinked unseeing as she continued swaying to a music no one but her could hear as she read the “signs”.
Her swaying stopped and she hunched forward with heavy breaths. Panting, she carefully laid the entrails on the alter with shaking hands.
As she struggled to compose herself, I reached for the cup of water to help revive her. Once she was relaxed enough to drink, I grabbed the hunk of bread to help ground Livinia into the realm of the living.
I wasn’t a diviner, but I knew enough about their power that being grounded after a reading was important. The stronger diviners could reach far into the spiritual realm and risked their souls getting lost. There had been stories told throughout time about a diviner, Davinenus, that reached too far and for too long and was lost. He slowly starved to death.
Livinia nonchalantly wiped the blood from her hands and walked with me to the antechamber.
“You must know that divining isn’t precise. There is interpretation in what is shown and what we see isn’t always clear. I saw a tangled web and you were trying to cut through it. The dark spider in the middle laughed and pulled each strand of the web bringing you closer. The dark one is the center of this all. He must in some way be connected with your friend. Whatever is going on with your friend is only a small part of a number of challenges and obstacles you’ll face.”
“There’s nothing else? Nothing more specific? How will I recognize this dark one?”
“No, I have nothing more for you. And you were warned. Please leave.”
She sat down on one of the chairs looking somber and tired – a look I had never seen after a reading. I wanted to question her further, but we didn’t have that kind of relationship. Any question would be seen as prying.
I started down the path that led to the top side. I puzzled over the
diviner’s cryptic and creepy message. A sudden and striking pain thundered across the back of my head. I felt myself falling and wondered if I was going to join those missing girls. Part of me hoped so.
They’d regret the day they took me.
18
Something cold and wet splashed over me. I opened my eyes. I was lying on cold stone in a dank and dim cell. There were flickering lights that I squinted against. Seeing them caused pain to flare up in my head. What happened to me?
“Rise and shine princess,” someone said.
This was the first time anyone called me a princess. Normally, it was she-devil, hell-spawn, psycho, or simply “oh-my-god-don’t-kill me”.
When I could breathe through the pain, I looked for whoever had spoken. I saw a hairy wolf shifter on the other side of the bars. He held a bucket, which I hope had water, or food. I wasn’t picky, I’d take either.
The first thing I noticed about my guard was that he was stuck in partial shift. Not all shifters made the transition to and from animal very well. Some, like my present company were doomed to spend their days as a half-man, half-beast. He wouldn’t be able to turn into an animal or go back to human. Normally, the packs performed a mercy killing rather than letting one of their own endure a life like this. When that wasn’t done, the shifters tended to go insane before they reached adulthood.
“This ain’t no retreat,” said the wolf shifter.
I needed to find out where I was and how many people were guarding me. That should be easy enough this shifter didn’t seem too smart. A little prodding and he should reveal some details to help me.
“Can't manage a full shift? The semi-hairy thing you got going must really draw the ladies in. You must need to lock yourself in here from time to time just to get a break from all of their attention.”
He snarled and went to leave. While tall, dark and gruesome wasn’t who I’d choose to be spending time with, he was the only source of information.
“Tell that fanged freak that I will make him beg for death’s release. I don’t care if he is protected by the Guild”.
He looked at me with eyes gleaming with amusement.
“You really have no idea, do you?” He chuckled and continued, “I think it will be you doing the praying.” And he strode away into the dark.
I wasn’t worried, but his response wasn’t what I expected. He was trying to convince me that the vampire hadn’t put him up to this. If it wasn’t Xavier, it could be any number of people. I’d pissed of plenty of people during my time as a PI. And, his pitiful attempt at intimidation tactics were not working. I’d been in worse situations than this.
I shifted my attention to my surroundings. My prison cell was rather spacious – not that I’d been in a bunch of cells, but they tended to be smaller than this one. If I laid on the floor, my six foot frame wouldn’t touch either of the cell walls. It smelled of waste, rot and the overlying stench of death. Just the right aromatic combination to make you feel special and safe.
For one of the first times since I worked at the Agency, I reconsidered my job. It might be time to change jobs.
I paced in my cell. Beyond mine was the windowless dungeon. The only obvious way in or out was the stairs the wolf shifter had taken. Torches flickered along the wall and the entire area was stone – stone walls, ceiling, and floor. Moisture slicked the walls and the dampness in the air meant I was most definitely underground. Besides, no one built a dungeon above ground. I think it’s because most people had a fear of being underground or perhaps it was because you were closer to Hell.
As more time passed, I began to suspect that Xavier wasn’t behind this abduction, which meant bigger problems. My situation would be easier if it was him. I knew he’d keep me alive to drink from. And, he could be managed and controlled to an extent.
At least I could take some comfort from knowing that when I didn’t arrive back from the Dark Side, Sterling would suspect something was wrong.
It was hard to tell the passing of time. Finally, a combination of fatigue, pain and sheer boredom force me to find a spot to sleep. I curled up in the corner of my cell, with my back against the wall and fell asleep.
A drenching of cold water startled me awake. My head still throbbed.
The same wolf shifter stood outside the bars with a loopy grin on his face. His teeth were jammed into a human-like mouth, which should have made smiling and talking impossible. He looked like some mangy mutt – so ugly he was cute. Now, that I thought about it, cute could never be used to describe this level of mangy.
Then again, I never thought of wolf shifters as handsome or sexy by any means. I never could understand Jennica’s crush on Bran, the wolf shifter, who owned the Dirty Fix. Picturing a wolf was more than enough to quench my libido and I couldn’t reconcile a wolf with dogs. Knowing someone was part wolf, which was really just an evolution step from a dog, was just impossible for me to find attractive. Jennica could have all the wolf shifters she wanted.
“The Master wants to speak to you.”
“Well by all means, take me to your Master.”
I laughed. Master, indeed. At least I’d either escape or find out who my captor was.
“Keep laughing stupid woman, you won’t laugh for long once he’s done with you.”
Rolling my eyes, I waited as he opened the cell. I had one chance to get a jump on him. I needed to remain calm and keep my heart at a steady pace. Even stupid half-shifters, like this one, could detect fear and know what a change in my heart rate meant.
I waited until I was just past the open cell door and slammed him against the bars, with a sharp kick to the back of the legs, I held him pinned to the door with my arm wrapped around his neck. Hitting just the right pressure point rendered him temporarily immobile. I slammed his head against the cell until he slumped forward unconscious.
I wiped the wolf shifter’s blood off on my shirt. Carefully, I made my way through the dungeon. The flickering torches barely lit the gloomy stairs. I stayed alert for any signs that the werewolf was roused or that someone else in the house had detected my escape. The stairs led to the main level of the building. It was unsurprisingly a richly adorned house. Anyone that had the money to buy a dungeon would be rich and powerful.
The room I passed through was filled with pristine antiques from top to bottom, which meant servants since the wealthy didn’t clean. This also meant discovery by one of them. Keeping to the edge of the room, I inched closer to the nearest window, which was five feet away. It would make the perfect exit. As I neared the window, a shout rose from the dungeon. Darn shifter healing. Wolfie hadn’t stayed down long.
I sprinted for the window and without a second thought, I leapt through it. I covered my face with my arms. I landed on the concrete outside, with shards of glass sitting out of my skin like porcupine quills. The pain made me gasp. I forced myself to my feet through sheer will. The only part of my body that was undamaged was my face and my feet. No point in getting caught after what I went through to escape.
Stumbling out past the lane, I found myself on one of the Uptown streets. I was less familiar with this part of the Uptown, but it appeared that I was in Merchant’s Row, which was close to the Mid Line. Whoever took me managed to get me out of the Dark Side and back here without anyone noticing. That meant they were able to blend in with both worlds. I’d consider that later when I was safe.
I slowly edged around the buildings and tried not to pass out. I ignored the shocked gasps and offers of help. I couldn’t trust any of these random people, a.k.a., “randos”. Who know who they were?
“Someone call the enforcers,” shouted a woman.
And that was my cue to hurry up. The pain and shock of blood loss made everything foggy. I had to get to the Agency. I faded in and out of consciousness, I staggered and couldn’t get my hands out in the time break my fall. A set of strong arm reached around me, saving me from the fall.
“Whoa there, Miss,” said the man.
The man peered
closer to me and gasped.
“Is that you Marty?”
I could only nod my head at him, recognizing Garen. Why did it have to be Garen of all people? I’d have preferred avoiding him after his awkward offer of a date.
The rune mage grimaced before saying, “this is gonna hurt” as he reached for me. And that was all that I remembered until the blissful darkness took over.
Garen kicked the door open, startling me awake. I tried to balance better and he nearly dropped me.
“Why are you kicking in our door – oh my god. Sterling!” screamed Callie.
The next thing I heard was Sterling saying in the distance, “Just a bloody minute.”
As Garen walked through the door, I struggled to sit up. I couldn’t and hung limp in his arms. I’d prefer walking in on my own instead of being carried in like a baby.
Sterling stood there was his mouth open in shock and Callie was crying. It would have been funny if the pain was starting to make everything fuzzy.
“Set her on the couch, here,” said Sterling.
“There’s no way to lay her down that won’t cause her pain,” said Garen.
“Just do your best man.”
“Do you know what happened to her?” Sterling asked.
“Injured Marty right here. I can still talk.”
“You won’t for much longer. Putting you down is going to hurt,” said Sterling.
Garen set me down and as he did, the feeling of a thousand needles digging into my skin hit me. I couldn’t hold back the scream. I’d underestimated just how much this would hurt.
“Roc, bring the medic bag. We’ll do this the old fashioned way, one shard at a time.”
“Why is Roc here?” I asked.
“We needed help with your cases, so we could take turns looking for you. Roc helped out.”
Roc raced back with the medic bag. I eyed it distrustfully. There were lots of items in that bag that could cause pain.
Callie sat down next to me and took my hand in her trembling one. Tears were already filling her eyes.