“Would either of you like something to drink?” asked Ms. Brucker. When we both shook our heads, she took a seat on the love seat.
I sat down on the sofa facing her. Travers took a spot next to the door and remained standing.
“Just relax, Ms. Brucker. We just want to know what you saw,” said Paul. He kept his tone professional but friendly. He gave me a nod.
As Joyce was about to repeat her story, I channeled some of the ambient energy in the room through my body. I muttered, “Cordis.”
Whatever words Joyce Brucker was about to speak stopped in her throat. She stiffened as her mind and my mind linked through the spell. To me, the mind is like a three-dimensional spider web. It an immense amount of information, wrapped into a dense network of seemingly random, interconnected strands.
I looked at the web of Ms. Brucker’s memories in my mind’s eye. From inside her mind, I could pluck and view individual strands. Or I could weave my way through to the center and control her like a marionette. Or I could smash my way through everything like the proverbial bull in a china shop.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to search for long, nor did I need to go too deep into the web. Paul’s question brought up Ms. Brucker’s memory of the night before. It looked like a glowing strand, maybe an inch long. Paul’s presence was like a security camera in the background, noticeable but not intrusive. I pictured a pair of scissors appearing and cutting the strand away from the rest. With care, I connected the two disparate, severed threads.
The memory withered once detached, becoming nothing at all in a matter of moments. At least that’s what Paul saw. The strand of memory entered my right hand, slipping beneath my skin. It felt as cold with the fear Ms. Brucker had felt in that moment. I left a simple command to sleep behind me as I exited Ms. Brucker’s mind. When I was back in the living room and using my normal eyes again, I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Joyce was asleep, breathing normally. Paul and I left a moment later.
“Good work, Nicodemus,” he said as we walked back to his squad car. “I’ll be sure to pass along the word.”
“Make sure they know it’s taken care of,” I said. “Nothing more needs to be done.”
Paul nodded. “Where do you want your fee sent?”
“Send word I’ll pick it up tonight.”
“Making an appearance?” he asked. “You haven’t done that in a while.”
“Things change,” I said as I continued walking to my Jeep. I watched Paul drive away. He had a look of contentment on his face. It took no small amount of willpower not to puke.
I drove home to get ready for Angela Blackwell.
Chapter 5
When I got back to my place, I laid my stuff down and sat in my office chair. My gaze shifted around the room absently. Almost all the books in here were collected over the twenty years since my father’s disappearance. Some had been smuggled out of my family’s home before the Senate seized it. My non-occult books sit on the shelf closest to the door to the living room. A few toys and figurines still in their boxes sit there, too. There are a few Star Wars figures, some TOS Star Trek toys, and a Six Million Dollar Man figure.
They’re collectibles. Leave it at that.
The room itself is the size of a small bedroom. The previous owners used it as a storage room. When I took ownership, they left the metal filing cabinets behind. I’ve repurposed them, removing the dividers, replace them with wooden boards, and store my herbs, crystals, and other alchemical supplies in them.
An old-school chemistry set sat behind the crow, which still snoozed on his perch. Bits of sunlight came through the cracks of the metal slabs covering the windows. Each one is about 6 inches thick. The gnomes who refurbished my home had taken great care to make sure any magical energies released in this room would not disrupt the rest of the house — or leak out of the building. This chamber served as a panic room, of sorts.
The thing you have to understand about the spirit realm — what we wizards call Sideways — is that it’s connected to every place in this world. Some places hold stronger connections to certain parts of Sideways’ top layer. For example, if you happen to step into Sideways while standing in a funeral home, you might find yourself in a necropolis with some very upset specters waiting for you.
My study’s one of the few places I know of where things from Sideways can’t enter. If I wanted to enter Sideways while in this room, it would take a hell of a lot of channeling, probably more than my body could handle. Even then, I couldn’t re-enter the room. I’d have to go outside of the room, come back to real world, and then re-enter my office.
I turned my attention, finally, to the abnormally large crow on my desk.
“Corvix,” I said. “You can stop pretending to sleep.”
“Damn,” said the bird. His voice had a high-pitched vibrato. “You haven’t fed me today.”
“The steak’s thawing in the fridge.”
“Top sirloin?”
“Yep. And cut into ribbons like you asked. I’ll feed you before I head out tonight.”
The bird shook its wings. “A new case? What’s it this time?”
“Dead girl.” I pulled a piece of paper out of one of the desk’s drawers and grabbed a pen. I drew the three nails tattoo I’d found on the victim, then placed it in front of Corvix for him to review. “Know anything?”
He leaned down to examine it closely. I could hear him clicking his tongue. “Should be in here. Helsing’s Third Volume, second bookcase left of the window, top shelf.”
Finding the tome took a few minutes. The cracked, red leather binding had seen better days. Corvix hopped down onto the desk. After I’d opened the book and laid it out on the desk, he began pushing the pages over without touching them. He stopped two-thirds of the way through the book. The page he started gently tapping with his beak had a grainy drawing of three nails forming a wide “W”, just like the girl’s tattoo.
I tried reading the passage under the drawing, but I was ready to hang myself after a minute or two. Nineteenth century German is not my strong suit. Corvix eyed me with considerable disdain and came around to stand next to me. He began reading the text.
“Ah.” he said. “I see. You’ve royally screwed yourself.”
“What’s the deal with the tattoo?”
Corvix ruffled his feathers. “The Helsing Society is one of the oldest sources on much of the supernatural world.”
I let out a frustrated breath. “What does the book say?”
“Eighty-five percent, give or take five percent, is actually accurate.”
Giving Corvix my best death glare, I asked, “What do you know?”
“Considerably more. Humans aren’t exceptional at remembering things. And you’re even less exceptional at making sure things are true.” He flapped back to his perch, making sure to hit me in the face with the end of one wing. “Take, for instance, the newspaper you left on the floor for my droppings.”
“What about it?”
“It’s two days old. You could at least leave me up to date reading material.”
Corvix is my familiar, but more importantly, he’s a secret-keeper. Spirit crows and ravens are all over the place in Sideways, constantly watching the mortal world and hoarding secrets like a dragon hoards riches. Occasionally they make trips over into the real world. Odds are, if you see a group of ravens or crows perched nearby, one of them is not a normal bird. That one is there collecting data.
As a familiar, Corvix had sworn a binding to serve me, he wasn’t my slave. I know some wizards make spirits serve unwillingly. Usually it doesn’t end well for the wizard or witch. I paid Corvix for his services, most often with rare steaks.
“What’s it going to cost me?” I asked as I leaned back in my chair.
“Petulance is not becoming of a wizard. Even one with your limited comprehension.”
“Keep that in mind when Twitch gets bigger.”
Corvix cocked his head to the side. “The feline knows its
place. I remind him of it every now and again.”
“Tell me the cost or I pluck you and make a pillow for ‘the feline’.”
My familiar let out an angry caw that nearly deafened me. He gave me the bird equivalent of a pursed lip. Don’t ask me to explain how that’s possible.
“A week’s furlough in Sideways,” he said.
“A week while I’m working is too long,” I countered.
“I know you’re helpless without my assistance.” He bounced his head a few times with triumphant glee. “Two days?”
I thought about his offer and looked at the wind-up clock on the desk. There was as hour or two before sunset. Angela would be arriving soon. After working with Paul on Ms. Brucker, I needed a shower.
“Two sunsets,” I said. “I’ll need you to do some recon for me. The murder happened last night. The body was dumped. Find out what you can about that.” I stopped and thought about what Persephone had told me. “And I’ll need you to call in a few favors for some more information.”
“What information?”
“I’ll tell you after you tell me about the tattoo. Deal?”
Corvix nodded. “The tattoo is a mark of the Iscariot bloodline.”
“As in...?”
“As in that Iscariot, yes. Of all the myths about vampires, this one is unique. Even the tales about the first vampires all have some similarities. It’s said that Judas Iscariot was cursed with eternal life and hunger for blood due to his part in the betrayal of the Carpenter.”
“So he was turned into a vampire. So what?”
The crow lowered its head and covered it with one wing for a few moments. “He was turned into a vampire without the turning ritual. He’s one of only two humans to be given the curse without being turned.”
“Who’s the other?”
“Dracul.”
“But if he wasn’t turned, how could he turn others?”
“I imagine that once he became a vampire the same rules applied. The bloodline was established after he turned a dozen people.”
I chuckled. “Twelve, huh? Not an original idea.”
“He probably meant it as an insult to the god who cursed him. Regardless, you’re still screwed.”
“Why’s that?” I asked, leaning in closer.
“The dead girl. If she had that tattoo, it means someone in the bloodline claimed her. If she had not been murdered, she was likely slated to be turned.”
I steepled my fingers over my nose. “Christ on a cracker.”
If Corvix was right, it meant the girl wasn’t a random victim. Vampires, by and large, are a prideful race. According to some of the histories I’ve read, shadow wars have been fought between vampires over something as simple as a petty insult. Killing the property of a vampire would be like slapping a shark in the face. It was going to eat you before, but now it was going to enjoy the meal.
“Are there any of the Iscariot bloodline in Tampa Bay?” I asked.
“You know one of them quite...intimately,” said Corvix. I could swear the damned bird was smiling. Don’t ask me how he does that.
My jeans felt tighter. “Oh. He’s one of them. I know where to start digging, then.”
The crow fluttered its wings, satisfied with its performance. “Two sunsets. Does today’s count?”
“Yes.”
“Damn.” If a bird could shrug, Corvix would have done so. “What was the other matter you wanted me to look into?”
“The Rite of Charon. Find a way of getting out of it.”
For several seconds Corvix stood absolutely still. It was unnerving. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. “Once you’re given the coins,” he said, “it’s done. Reapers will take every opportunity to make you dead.”
“It’s a curse, Corvix,” I said, leveling what I hoped was my most determined stare at him. “Curses can be undone.”
Corvix clicked his tongue against his beak a few times. Finally, he said, “No promises, Nicodemus.”
“If it’s out there, I’m sure you’ll find it.”
“You may be thick sometimes but you’re better than the last one,” he said. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Want the steak now?”
“I’ll get take-out,” he said. He flapped his wings a few times, flew into the living room, and disappeared, shifting over into Sideways.
A shiver went down my spine. I’d been planning on making this trip tonight after I helped Blackwell. Now I realized we’d be heading to the same destination. It looked like both of us would be going to see the Lord of Tampa, Manuel Vega.
“So much for breaking her in slowly, Lester,” I said to no one.
I took a long, hot shower. Muscles I didn’t even realize had been locked all day finally relaxed. I doubled over as the tension left my body. Once I was done and dried off, I shaved. I made sure to break out some of my better clothing. A simple black collared shirt, jeans, a shoulder rig for my Colt M1911 .45 pistol and two spare magazines, and my navy blue ankle-length long coat would be attire for the evening. The long coat had the same enchantments on it that my normal trench coat was given. These include a dozen pockets connected to pocket realms of Sideways.
Another useful enchantment for living in Florida is that it never gets wet.
Checking the pockets, I found the three vials of holy water Malcolm had blessed for me. Two vials were in the left breast pocket. I’d cooked these up a few months back. Tonight, I’d be consuming one and Angela would be getting the other.
The last items I remembered to grab were my ring and my cane. The ring was an iron band, dark silver with acid-etched sigils. I had only just finished gathering my things when my phone started ringing. I walked out my door, locked it, and reestablished my protective charms.
Deputy Blackwell was driving one of those 4-door sedans that every car manufacturer makes. It looked like a Chevy, but I couldn’t make out the model. It looked well cared for, freshly washed and waxed. I opened the gate. She was standing next to the driver’s door, one hand on her hip.
“You take security seriously,” she said.
“Never can be too careful,” I said. “We taking your car or mine?”
“Mine. That an issue?”
I shook my head.
“You cleaned up well,” she said, giving me the once-over.
So had she. Dressed in a blue cotton shirt, jeans, and a red windbreaker the same color as her car, she looked even better out of uniform. I’d been right about her working out regularly. Her brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. Without makeup, I could see that the freckles around her eyes extended down to her cheekbones.
When I got in, I noted that her radio was tuned to smooth jazz, something I wouldn’t have pegged. As soon as my cane came close to the radio, the car’s speakers started spiting static in short bursts. Blackwell had taken her seat by that point and started changing stations. The static blasts continued, lasting longer now.
“I’d turn it off,” I said. “Unless you want to replace it.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Enchanted items,” I held up my cane as I spoke, “disrupt technology. One of the hazards of magic. I have to keep these stored in my study just to watch TV.”
Angela shot me an incredulous look but she shut off the radio. “Is my car going to stop working?”
Keeping the knot end of my cane in my hand, I placed the cane between my legs. I drew in some of the ambient energy from around me, focused it into a spell, and said, “Cohibeo.”
The cantrip adjusted the output of energy from my items, containing them almost like a force field in a sci-fi movie. I felt a small pressure in the back of my head, much like a dam holding back a calm river. My connection to the ambient energy of the world all but dried up.
“What did you do?” Angela asked, no doubt noticing the change in my body posture.
“A cantrip. A simple spell. The magic in my items is contained for the time being. You shouldn’t have any problems driving.
” I looked over at her. “We’re going to the Columbia restaurant in Ybor. Know where it is?”
She nodded and started driving. Thunder, from the direction in which we drove, began rumbling as we rounded the corner of my building. We drove in silence for about five minutes. Finally, I said, “I found something about the victim from this morning. She had a tattoo on her right wrist.”
“Yeah, three nails forming a ‘W’. What’s it mean?”
The curiosity in her voice worried me. “Before I answer, can I ask a personal question?”
She gripped the wheel tighter. If I hadn’t been looking at her, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. “How personal?” she said.
“Do you enjoy puzzles?”
Blackwell exhaled sharply. “I thought you were gonna ask something inappropriate. Yeah, I do. I used to put them together all the time when I was young.”
I smirked. Fulfilling Lester’s request was going to be nigh-impossible. “Well then, subtlety is not gonna work,” I said. As we pulled up to a red light, she turned and shot me a quizzical look. “Lester wanted me to break you in slowly,” I added.
“What do you mean ‘break me in’?” she asked. There was some anger behind her words.
I raised one hand in a defensive gesture, the other holding the cane to maintain the cantrip. “No offense meant,” I said. “Lester didn’t get a smooth introduction to my side of the fence. He hoped for better, for you.”
The light turned green and she returned focus to the road. “He won’t talk about it,” she said.
“Understandable,” I said, nodding. “He didn’t know anything about the supernatural back then. Probably got my number from Oz.” I leaned back in the seat. “Twelve people in Thonotosassa were found torn to pieces.”
“I remember reading the reports on that. What did it?”
“Ghouls. Undead corpses. They require living meat to maintain their bodies.”
Blood And Stone: A Novel in The Atalante Chronicles Page 5