by Devin Hanson
“The ghoul is a very real threat,” I pointed out. The rising fear in my chest was making my breath come hard, and I found myself getting angry. “There’s video evidence of the ghoul acting! That can’t all just be brushed aside and forgotten!”
Sam winced. “How do you think the department has dealt with all the supernatural shit in the city before now? What crime has the ghoul committed? The only DNA evidence we have points to people who are already dead. It’s an open-and-shut case, Alex. No threat, no worries. At the most, we might forward an alert to the DEA about a new drug that makes people berserk.”
“Bath salts,” Lara grinned without humor. “Or maybe they’ll come up with a new one.”
“What about me? That thing is hunting me!”
Sam straightened up, but Lara shook her head. “I’m sorry, Alexandra. As much as we might want to, there is nothing we can do. Unless you can find a shipping container full of medical equipment and bullet holes, or twenty or thirty bodies hidden under a tarp somewhere, our hands are tied.”
“So that’s it? Sorry, Alex, I guess you’ll just die?” I looked between Sam and Lara in disbelief. “You dragged me into this in the first place!”
Lara looked at me flatly and I saw the fear and worry threatening to boil over behind her eyes. She was putting a brave face on it, but she was just as terrified as I was, if for different reasons. “The only thing I can do is beg you to help us,” she said quietly. “It’s a shit deal and I’m truly sorry. But that is the way it is.”
“I don’t fucking believe this! How am I supposed to figure out what happened when the entire police department can’t?”
“You’re resourceful,” Sam said, trying to put some hope into his voice. “You have contacts that could help. What about that red-haired woman? Or the big fellow with the bow?”
“The Red House has strict policy forbidding interference with human law,” I gritted out. “And they’re laying low. I might not be able to reach them.”
“Try, and then convince them that this is a problem for the supernatural community,” Sam pressed on. “Without Lara and I being here to interface, the law will have no choice but to prosecute whoever it thinks is guilty without consideration for facts outside forensic evidence.”
I stared at him. “Is that a threat?”
“No, Alexandra,” Lara butt in, cutting Sam off. “That’s an unfortunate reality.”
“Wow. Fuck the both of you,” I spat. “Is that really the best you can do? Help us get out of our predicament or I’ll arrest you? I’m starting to think the Red House has it right.”
I turned to leave and Sam caught my arm. “Hold on, Alex, I—”
I twisted free and locked his arm out. Last night, he would have been more than a match for me, but I had just come off spending half the night having sex. I could wrestle a marid right now. With a grunt, I shoved him across the room hard enough that he dented the drywall on the far side. Sam sprawled halfway across a desk, plaster dust in his hair and a dazed look on his face.
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Alexandra—”
“No, fuck you too, Lara!” I kept from shouting by a bare margin and hauled myself back under control. I took a deep breath and counted to five. “Fine. If I can avoid the ghoul, I will try to find out what happened. But this, this arrangement we’ve had, it’s done. Over. Don’t either of you call me again.”
I slammed the door on my way out and stormed out of the precinct. Nobody got in my way, so nobody got hurt. Outside, I tilted my head back with my eyes closed and let the sun soak into my face. Now what was I going to do? The only lead I could think of was with the Red House.
“You look like you’re having a rough day.”
I spun around, hands coming up defensively. Beard was fifteen feet away, leaning against a sleek sportscar in a fashionably casual suit. If he wasn’t Scottish, he would have looked like a hipster douchebag.
“You,” I growled. “What the fuck do you want? Are you following me?”
Beard clicked his tongue. “As ravishing as you are, I have other uses for my time. No, I was here to check up on one of my followers.”
I sneered. “One of your slaves get thrown in jail?”
Beard’s eyes widened in mock surprise and hurt. “Oh no. He’s the deputy chief. He wasn’t able to make it to the competition so I promised him lunch.” His mouth slowly stretched out into a smile as he took in the shocked disbelief on my face. “There was so much going on today, I had to bring lunch to him. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
I stared at Beard, unable to convince myself that he was joking. “Seriously?”
“It’s good to have friends in high places, don’t you think? I mean, with your skillset, it must be so easy to make friends and influence people.”
“I don’t—I’m not like that.”
“Maybe you should be.” Beard threw his arms out, encompassing the precinct and by association the entire legal system. “Power is where you find it, Alex. You should build a reliable base before your life goes completely out of control, speaking from experience. You could do worse than start with the boys in blue. Excepting those that are mine. I would not take kindly to poaching.”
I crossed my arms and hugged myself. Beard’s words had a certain validity, but despite the temptation, I couldn’t bring myself to agree. Maybe the deputy chief was off limits, but how easy would my life be if I had the chief of police, or maybe the DA, under my thumb? Or a judge or two? Or the governor? It’s too bad Schwarzenegger wasn’t governor of California any more. He was still in amazing shape.
With a shake of my head I pushed those thoughts away and resumed my glare at Beard. “I told you, no. That’s not who I am.”
Beard shrugged. “Suit yourself. Each of us has their own path to follow in life. So, how about it? Have any idea what’s happening? The DC wouldn’t spill it for me.”
I was about to tell him to go fuck himself, then gritted my teeth. It wasn’t Beard I was angry at. I sighed and nodded. Sometimes, you had to swallow your pride and reach out for assistance. “Actually, yes. And I could use some help.”
“Oh ho, I knew I could spot a damsel in distress!”
That earned Beard a level look and I turned away. Maybe I didn’t need help that bad.
“Wait, Alex. That was a joke. I apologize. What do you need?”
I turned back around and folded my arms. “If I tell you, I need your word. You’re in this with me. It’ll be too dangerous otherwise.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Now I’m curious. You are serious about danger?”
“I’ve been attacked twice. I almost died. I’m not kidding here, Beard. If you don’t have the energy to spare, walk away.”
Beard sniffed, offended. “Please. This is America. This whole country is like a shrine in my honor.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Okay, fine. I have to ask though. Why are you helping me?”
The perpetual amusement faded from his face. “I have seen what ghouls can do first hand. I have no wish for America to suffer what Europe does. Your warning had me worried, so I did some investigating of my own. I am no PI,” he bowed his head toward me, “but I know people who know things. Ignoring this problem will only make it grow worse.”
I sighed. “The problem I’m having doesn’t have to do with the ghoul. At least, I don’t think it does.”
Beard raised an eyebrow. “You have problems worse than ghouls?”
“How much do you know about vampires?”
“More than you, I wager,” he snorted. “But you said this doesn’t have to do with ghouls? If there is anything you can know to be true, the ghouls serve their masters in all things.”
“As far as I know, it has to do with my mother and the Satanists.”
“Strange. To my knowledge, the seven have little love for the vampires. Vampires are crude, cruel creatures, with no appreciation for subtlety and the art of seduction. Why would Mahlat of all the sev
en lower herself to their schemes?”
“Honestly, I was hoping you’d tell me. You did send her their way, after all.”
Beard rolled his shoulders. “I don’t pretend to know the secret thoughts of a creature like her. That is way over my paygrade.”
“Yeah. Fair enough. Why do you keep assuming the ghoul is involved?”
“It is here,” Beard said grimly. “Therefore, it is involved.”
I nodded, feeling doubtful. “If you say so.”
“So, enough subterfuge! What has the police so worked up?”
“Maybe we should get lunch first. This may not be the right place to have this discussion.”
“You would eat with me?” There was surprise in Beard’s voice, and maybe a hint of emotion as well.
“Don’t read too much into it. If I’m going to trust you with my life, I can trust you not to be an asshole over a meal. I can, right?”
Beard put his hand over his heart. “On my honor.” He grinned broadly. “Not many who know what I am would willingly break bread with me.”
“I am no glutton,” I warned him. “So long as you don’t try to influence my eating habits, I will give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“Same could be said for you,” he winked. “Though if I’m being perfectly honest with myself, I wouldn’t complain if you attempted to seduce me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Contrary to any of your past experiences with children of Mahlat, I don’t sleep with everyone I work with.”
He pursed his lips. “Bummer. But I understand. Let’s go eat.”
Say what you will about Eisheth and her spawn, they know good food. Beard took us to a hole in the wall restaurant that didn’t even have a sign over the door. There was a line halfway around the block, and we got our share of dirty glares as we skipped straight to the front. I didn’t take the same pleasure as skipping the line with Sam, since this time we were actually going to be eating.
Once inside, a waiter came hurrying over and escorted us to a back table apparently kept open for VIPs. We settled in and I started looking for a menu, but Beard held up his hand. “There are no menus here. Every day is something different. But he only makes the one dish, so it is perfect for that day.”
“Really?” I turned in my seat to look around the dimly lit seating area. Sure enough, everyone was eating the same thing. “I guess today is sandwiches?”
Beard sniffed the air. “French dip. Can’t you smell the onions and jus?”
The other benefit of not having a menu is we didn’t have to wait more than two minutes before a stone platter was set down in front of us, with a whole roll of French bread stuffed full of perfectly rare roast beef. We each had a deep carafe brimming with deep brown jus and towering mugs of dark beer. Despite my misgivings about indulging in front of Beard, my stomach growled.
“What did I tell you?” Beard grinned. “Perfect. Every time.”
Beard cut me a four-inch segment of the sandwich and I dutifully dipped it in the broth before taking a bite. It was honestly the best sandwich I had ever tried, French dip or otherwise. Caramelized onions beneath the heaping layer of thinly sliced meat, a hint of mustard and the sharp tang of creamy horseradish.
“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled around the bite.
“The last time I was here, he was serving broiled salmon. He ran out of stock before the line was gone and there was a brawl.” Beard took his own serving of the sandwich, easily twice what he had portioned for me.
“How come I’ve never heard of this place?” I took a sip of the beer, dubious that it would go well with the sandwich. Maybe I should have expected the light crispness of the beer to cut through the fatty richness of the roast and leave my palate clean and yearning for more. This wasn’t some over-hopped imported hipster swill; this was micro-brewed, probably within a stone’s-throw of the restaurant, with a nutty, mellow balance. I didn’t really have much of an experienced taste for beer, but I knew I could drink this stuff all day.
“There’s no name,” Beard shrugged. “It’s hard to promote because of that. Everyone here is through word of mouth only.”
Conversation trailed off, and I finished off the last bite of my sandwich with a perfectly content fullness. One bite more and I would have felt bloated, one bite less and I would have wanted more. If I hadn’t been eating with Beard, I would have asked for another serving anyway. As it was, I didn’t want to fall to the temptation of gluttony.
I sat back and sipped my beer, watching the restaurant and Beard as he finished off the last of the sixteen-inch sandwich. For all that he was eating three times as much as I was, it didn’t take him long before he was sopping up the last of his jus with the butt of the loaf.
Beard straightened up with a sigh and a stretch, and patted his beard clean. “That was good, wasn’t it? Okay, tell me what has happened.”
“Right to business,” I shrugged. “Fair enough.”
I laid out for him the outline of the last few days, skipping over the irrelevant parts, and ending with the revelation that Sam and Lara were benched until the investigation could be finished. Beard was a good listener, and only interrupted me twice to ask for clarifications.
Beard was silent after I wound down. He nodded to himself a few times, then sighed. “I can’t believe you’re working with the Red House.”
I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. My life was a total shit storm right now, and all Beard could comment on was who I was friendly with. “Really? That’s what worries you?”
He scowled, then reluctantly smiled. “Fair. You have had quite the interesting few days.”
“So, what do you think? Do you still think the ghoul was involved?”
“Has to be.” Beard nodded with more certainty. “There’s a hierarchy, you know? Among the servants of the vampires.” He gestured with his hands, blocking out areas of responsibility as he talked. “You have the ghouls on top. There aren’t many of them left, a hundred, maybe two hundred. Below that you have servitors and the duran gar. The thralls are below that, and arranged in their own internal structure. For an operation of this magnitude, I would not expect a ghoul to be directly involved, but you can be sure it knows. It is likely the thralls reached out to the ghoul for assistance in damage control, probably the moment the Satanists showed up with so many vehicles.”
“So few ghouls? What happened to them all?”
Beard shrugged. “There never were very many, from what I understand. They don’t reproduce like hinn, houri or marid. They were hunted, thousands of years ago, but the trick of it has been lost with time. Now there’s only a few hundred remaining.”
“The jaan don’t reproduce either?”
“Nah. But you won’t be finding any of the jaan in America. They’re too involved in their war against the vampires. We are off the subject. We were speaking of the ghoul involvement in your incident at the dock.”
“Okay. Let’s assume you’re right. The thralls call for the ghoul, then it shows up and… does what?”
“Moves the bodies, for one.”
“It wouldn’t have had time,” I objected. “There had to be at least twenty dead people.”
“You fought the ghoul?” I nodded, and Beard looked impressed. “Well. Not many can say the same. They are fast, I’m told. And strong enough to tear the muscles of their hosts.”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Not that they care.”
“Not in the slightest. They can split their attention between multiple bodies. It ruins their coordination, but I’ve heard tales of a single ghoul guiding several dozen corpses at once. That’s where the myths of zombie hordes came from.”
“You’re saying the ghoul just made all the bodies stand up at once and walk away?”
Beard nodded. “That would be the fastest solution. It probably just walked all the bodies into a convenient container, then drove the container out of the yard on the back of a truck.”
“Shit.” I sighed. “Okay, so, now what? We track down the truck? How
would we even start doing that?”
“You’re the PI,” Beard said. “I’m from the UK. This isn’t even my country.”
“Ugh. If only I knew a couple of detectives who could pull traffic camera footage or something. Oh wait.” I glowered at the table, then brightened up. “Aren’t you friends with the deputy chief?”
“He thinks I’m a health and fitness instructor,” Beard shook his head. “How would I segue from diet advice to criminal investigation?”
“You’re not making this easy. How certain are you that is the route the ghoul took?”
“Not at all.” Beard leaned back in his chair and stretched. “It’s just what I would have done.”
“Oh.” I stared at the table, feeling defeated. I didn’t see any path that would lead to success. It was the first time in a long while that I truly missed Ilyena. How easy would this be if I had the sybil’s sight to help me?
“Don’t look so down,” Beard said.
I looked up into his grin. “Why not? I’ve got no usable leads. All we have is your guess that they might have taken the bodies out by truck. It’s a good guess, but doesn’t get us any closer to catching the ghoul.”
“Catch.” Beard’s grin slipped. “Well, I don’t know about that. But you’re thinking along the wrong lines. We don’t have to track the truck.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We just need to know where they are going.”
“You’ve completely lost me,” I informed Beard levelly. “You know where the truck is headed?”
“Of course not. But I do know who to ask.” Beard hesitated. “Or at least it’s possible they can find out.”
I sat up straight in my chair. “Why didn’t you say so earlier!? Who is it?”
“Not who. What.” Beard grimaced. “Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it. But…” he sighed. “I am well-fed. We should be fine.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Okay, now I’m curious.”
“Yeah, you would be.” Beard snorted. “Well, come on, then. Let’s go get in trouble.”
Chapter Twenty