The Devil You Know (Jacob Graves Book 3)

by Sean Stone

  ‘Encase it in something. Something that will dry and hold the dagger in place. Cement or some such substance,’ Jeremy said quickly, rattling off the ideas as they came to him.

  ‘Not a bad idea, Jezzer. Are there any building sites nearby?’

  ‘Jacob, if you ever call me that again it will be the last time we speak as friends.’

  ‘Fair enough. Building sites, Jeremy?’

  ‘How on Earth would I know that? I’m an Elder of the Hall of Wizardry, not a member of the Council Planning Department.’

  ‘Fine. Do you know a spell to conjure cement?’

  ‘I’m starting to remember why I did not enjoy giving you lessons as a child.’

  I sighed in frustration and gave the dagger an angry shove back into the head once more. ‘Jeremy,’ I growled, reminding him to stay on topic.

  Then I saw exactly what I needed. The most beautiful and glorious building site I had ever seen in my life. With everything that was going on I’d completely forgotten that my own jazz club was being rebuilt. It was like fate, if I believed in such a thing. ‘Never mind, Jeremy, I’ve got what I need.’ I hung up without saying goodbye. It was rude but under the circumstances it was forgivable. I thought so anyway.

  I kicked open my car door and grabbed the head by its nasty mane as I climbed out of my car. I didn’t know the first thing about construction but I knew what a cement mixer looked like and it didn’t take long to find one. Sadly, I did not know how to use it. I was an assassin, not a builder.

  A quick Google search proved that it was far simpler than I’d expected. The construction crew had even been kind enough to leave all the materials I needed right next to the mixer. The theory of the task was simple, the act of actually doing it was not. It was an arduous task and I was thankful that I kept my body in peak condition because sand was heavy, and tipping it into the mixer took a lot of effort. By the time I was finished I’d had to stick the dagger back into the head about fifty times and my expensive clothing was caked in filth.

  I hunted around for some kind of container to put the head in. I didn’t want to bury it here on the site just in case somebody dug it up one day. Although, when the sun rose the dullahan would be destroyed so that was hardly an issue. But I’d still have to keep vigil over the building site to make sure it stayed buried all night long and I had no intention of doing that. No, the head would remain with me.

  I broke into the little portable office that the foreman worked in and found one of those giant, red, metal toolboxes. It was old and the red paint had almost completely flaked off the metal. I emptied the tools all over the floor and headed back to the head that I’d left on the ground by the mixer. The builders were going to be at least a little confused in the morning when they turned up to find that somebody had stolen the crappy old tool box, but left all the expensive tools.

  I reached out to grab the head and screamed. I hadn’t noticed that the head was once again alive, the dagger laying uselessly on the ground at its side. Two rows of rotten yellow teeth were chomping down on the tender flesh of my hand. Blood was seeping out from beneath the thing’s ugly lips. I snatched up the dagger and plunged it back into the head. The jaw loosened and the eyes dimmed again as it returned to death.

  ‘Son of a bitch,’ I muttered, as I pulled my hand back. There was a nasty red crescent-shaped bite between my thumb and forefinger. Little blobs of green ooze had dripped onto my hand around the cut looking like somebody had wiped bogies all over it. Resisting the urge to vomit, I pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the blood and slime. Once done I wrapped the hanky around the wound to try and stop the flow of blood. For a rotten corpse, the dullahan sure had strong teeth.

  Making sure that the dagger was still firmly in place, I dropped the head in the tool box and filled it to the brim with beautiful concrete. According to Google it could take a good couple of days to dry, so I used a bit of magic to speed the process up. A couple of days turned into a couple of minutes, and I had one incapacitated dullahan head encased in cement. I slammed the lid of the toolbox shut and flung it into the boot of my car. I’d give the builders a bonus to make up for the missing toolbox and the mess I’d left on their site. They were going to be pretty confused when they found out that not only had somebody stolen their toolbox, but they’d also mixed some concrete whilst they were there. Of course, they’d only be half as perplexed as the person who happened upon the dead horse and headless body that was currently lying somewhere in the city. Well, that was somebody else’s problem. It was late, I was exhausted and by sunrise the remains of the dullahan would dispose of themselves. I hoped.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I’d driven only about a block when I was stopped by the traffic lights. Looking to my left I saw The Hairy Fairy, a bar that was nearly as old as the part of town it stood in. It was a good bar but it didn’t get much business these days. The few times I’d drank there I’d only seen two or three other punters. It was the perfect place for those times when you wanted to disappear for a few hours. I licked my lips as I thought about how badly I could do with a drink. If I waited until I got home then I’d have Drew chewing my ear off whilst I tried to relax. I could spare half an hour for a solitary drink before going home. And after defeating a dullahan I think I deserved it.

  I parked the car and headed straight to the bar. The landlord had updated the decor a few years back to try and entice more customers in. I don’t know which designer he’d used, but I was willing to bet he hadn’t left them a glowing review. The bar was made out of brass, or at least it looked like it did, and the ugly shine could be seen from everywhere in the venue. The tables and chairs dotted around the place had a rustic, coppery aesthetic too. None of it inspired a person to stay and chill after a day of hard work, and it definitely didn’t have the Saturday night feel that would lure the younger crowds in. Old tunes from the nineties played over the speaker system making me further wonder who the clientele was for this place.

  ‘Kraken Black and Coke please,’ I said to the barman. I would usually have had a Captain Morgan in a place like this, but I felt the night was more needing a Kraken.

  ‘Long night, Mr Graves?’ An old lady at the end of the bar asked. She glanced over at me and I saw what her shawl had kept hidden from me when I’d walked in.

  ‘Agatha,’ I said in surprise. ‘I’m surprised to see an Elder of the Hall drinking in a place like this.’

  She raised one of her colourless eyebrows. ‘And why might that be?’

  ‘Yeah, why might that be?’ the barman threw in, folding his arms in indignation. I looked from him to her, quickly realising that I’d dug myself a bit of a hole.

  ‘I just always thought you were more of an exclusive club kind of drinker,’ I said, trying to compliment her without insulting him. The barman snorted and then walked away to start tinkering with glasses behind the bar.

  ‘I see, so you think I’m too snooty for an establishment like this?’ She wasn’t really offended, I could see in her eyes that she was just toying with me. Of all the Elders in the Hall, excluding Jeremy, Agatha had always made me feel like she was on my side. She spoke out against people like Marcus who wanted nothing more than to put me in my place.

  ‘To be perfectly honest, I think everybody is too snooty for an establishment like this. I mean…’ I picked up a strange sock teddy off the bar’s surface and held it up for her to see. ‘What is this?’

  She covered her mouth with her hand as she let out a small chuckle. ‘I believe it is supposed to be welcoming. Its design is to give the place a laidback and whimsical style.’

  ‘Well, it’s not working,’ I said, dropping the sock thing unceremoniously back where I’d found it.

  ‘Indeed.’ Agatha raised her wine glass and sipped on the rich red. I wondered which one she’d gone for. She looked like the kind of lady who appreciated a fine wine, but then I really did know very little about her. I didn’t know much about wine either.

  ‘So, Mr Graves
, how have you come to be so dirty?’

  I’d completely forgotten that I was caked in crap from the building site. Thankfully, the pub was almost empty so I wasn’t going to garner too much attention. Then again, I hadn’t really done anything wrong. The only crime I’d committed was theft of a toolbox and since the builders were currently contracted to me I was pretty sure I could get away with that, so long as I had the right lawyer, which I did. Not that it was going to come to that.

  ‘You know what, I’m going to tell you the truth because why the hell not? I was attacked by a dullahan and ended up on a building site.’

  Her eyebrows knitted together in curiosity. ‘A dullahan? An Irish corpse monster?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know how Irish he was…’ I said, raising my glass to my lips.

  ‘And you defeated it? Impressive. You know, for a nightclub owner you do regularly surprise me.’ She did seem genuinely surprised and also a little disappointed. The disappointment was probably more to do with the bar she was sitting in.

  ‘Thanks. So, what does bring you here. I really can’t picture you in a place like this.’

  ‘And yet I am in a place like this saving you the need of picturing anything at all.’ She took another swig of her drink and then placed the glass delicately back on the bar. ‘I needed to get away from all the commotion at the Hall. I had to go somewhere nobody would think to look for me.’

  ‘Well, you got the right place.’

  ‘Do you see that man over there?’

  I followed the direction she nodded in and saw the only other customer in the bar. He was a scruffy man with very worn out clothing. He could easily have passed for a homeless man. ‘Yes. What about him?’

  ‘What do you see in his face?’

  I continued to stare at the man. His eyes were almost completely closed and a tangle of matted hair hung down over his face. I searched around his features for whatever it was Agatha wanted me to see, but nothing looked out of the ordinary at all. ‘Nothing. I don’t see anything,’ I admitted, turning back to Agatha.

  ‘He looks peaceful,’ she said with a worried shake of her head. ‘Because he has no idea what is coming tomorrow.’

  ‘Sorry?’ I said shaking my head. I had no idea what was coming tomorrow. Plenty of things would be happening tomorrow but nothing that would affect that scruffy little vagabond. He’d probably be sleeping off a hangover. ‘What’s happening tomorrow?’

  ‘Well, at midnight Dorian’s… No, I do beg your pardon, the mayor’s lockdown will commence. And that is how it will begin.’

  ‘He’s ordered the lockdown so Magraval won’t be able to move around the city without being spotted. There’s no beginning of anything.’

  She laughed drily. ‘Dorian has more than one enemy now. Everybody who sided with Magraval will be dealt with too. He’ll want it all handled at the same time. Whilst everybody is tucked away in their houses and unable to witness the chaos that will rip through the city.’

  ‘Dorian is going to be focusing completely on Magraval. He won’t have time to worry about all the other wizards and witches that betrayed him.’

  ‘You have a lot of learning to do, Jacob. A lot. Mark my words, tomorrow Dorian will order an attack on the Hall of Wizardry. The same Hall you are supposed to be loyal too.’ She looked at me scornfully and sighed. ‘I’ve grown tired of your company. Drink your drink and go.’ She nudged my glass aggressively and some of the liquid spilled over the top. I don’t know what had brought this sudden change in attitude on. It was like she blamed me personally for everything that was going on. I lifted the glass and tipped the entire drink down my throat.

  ‘Whatever happens to the Hall will be a result of the Elders’ decisions. If you appoint a psychopath to lead you don’t get upset when everything falls down around you. Nice seeing you, Agatha,’ I said before slamming my empty glass down on the bar and strolling away.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ‘Finally thought you’d join us, did you?’ Drew said before I’d even closed my apartment door. Sometimes I wished I’d never given him a key. My eyes bulged when I realised he wasn’t alone. Drew was sitting at my dining room table with Simon Delacrue, both of them had a cup of steaming coffee. I was glad I’d gone out for a drink before coming home because there was no way I was getting anything stronger than coffee now.

  I dropped the toolbox on the kitchen counter and poured myself a cup of coffee. ‘Yeah, sorry about my lateness. I got attacked by a dullahan. Again.’

  ‘And?’ Drew said, one eyebrow snaked up on his forehead.

  ‘Its head is encased in cement in this box. Its body is… somewhere else. As is his horse. Come sunrise the dullahan will be destroyed and off my back for good.’

  ‘Impressive.’

  ‘Yep, and I got away with only one wound.’ I held up my hand in its makeshift bandage. ‘Fucker bit me. Looks like it might be infected. I’m not going to turn into one now am I?’ I wasn’t seriously concerned but these things were possible so it was best to be sure.

  ‘No. I’ll get my things,’ said Drew as he got up and went over to the cabinet where I kept all the magical medical supplies.

  ‘Forgive my ignorance, but what is a dullahan?’ Simon asked. It was probably the first time I’d ever known something he hadn’t. Although I hadn’t known him that long so that wasn’t all that impressive.

  ‘Irish zombie ghost thing that wanted to kill me,’ I said, as I took a seat at the table.

  ‘I see.’

  Drew pulled off my bandage and began to inspect the wound. ‘Looks like simple rot infection. Antibiotics would probably sort it out. But since I’m not a doctor…’ Drew pulled out the mixing bowl and began to make one of his famous healing pastes. No matter what injury I had, Drew always knew of some paste that could help.

  ‘What did I miss?’ I asked as Drew began applying the paste.

  ‘Everything actually. You missed everything, and now, because Dorian obligated me to deliver the necessary information to you, I will be forced to repeat myself. Something I never do,’ said Simon.

  ‘Well, there’s a first time for everything.’ I raised my cup to my lips, sharing a discreet smile with my uncle.

  Simon shot me a quick grimace before continuing. ‘Tomorrow the city will be locked down. Anybody seen outside who isn’t an Orchid or a police officer will be shot on sight.’

  ‘Woah,’ I said, holding a hand up as if that would stop Dorian’s decree. ‘Bit hasty. People will definitely go out. You can’t expect an entire city to just willingly obey. People will ignore the rule.’

  ‘And they will die. Let’s move on. Dorian has decided to use this time as effectively as possible. Whilst the streets are free of innocent victims, it will be the perfect time to strike the Hall of Wizardry.’

  I couldn’t believe that Agatha was right. She’d got Dorian’s plan to a T. ‘Didn’t you already try that once?’ I asked, recalling Simon’s failed attack on the Hall a few weeks ago. Simon was the only Orchid to make it past the lobby, and Magraval nearly killed him for it.’

  ‘I led a small group of Orchids into the Hall last time. It was supposed to be a discreet attack. This time there is no need for discretion. The police will be left to keep watch for Magraval whilst I lead all of the Orchids to the Hall.’

  ‘Hold on. You’re not fighting Magraval with us?’ My plan kind of relied on Simon’s magical muscle, not that I was going to admit that to him. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to fight Magraval alone and stay standing. Especially not now that I suspected he had Thor’s belt.

  ‘Sorry, Jacob, Dorian’s called me off this one. He wants me to lead the attack on the Hall. I am the best chance of success. I did point out to Dorian that without my help you would be severely weakened against our foe, but he was confident in your abilities. He strongly believes that this task is yours and yours alone.’

  ‘I guess your chances of surviving the day just leapt up.’

  ‘Jacob,’ Drew warned
me, but there was no strength to his warning. He finished applying the paste to my hand and started wrapping a real bandage around the wound.

  ‘Actually they went down. If you fail to kill Magraval then he will come to the Hall and might even turn the tides of the battle. He is a formidable opponent. You can rest assured that I would much rather accompany you to the real fight tomorrow and ensure our victory.’

  He really knew how to pack the pressure on. If I failed to kill Magraval tomorrow then all of the Orchids would likely be killed in the battle. Funnily enough, I didn’t feel that bad about it.

  ‘Where will Monroe be in all of this?’ Drew asked. I had assumed he’d be fighting in the battle if that was the case then Monroe would lead the attack, not Simon.

  ‘Oh,’ Simon said dismissively, waving his hand as if swatting a fly. ‘The vampires have been restless lately. Talk of rebellions, acts of aggression and all that. Monroe has been dealing with them. Somewhat unsuccessfully. Dorian ordered him to bring them to heel or slaughter them all. But I’m sure once he’s finished eradicating a species from the city he’ll join me at the Hall.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ I said, unsure of what else to say to that. Monroe was a tough guy, even by vampire standards. He was probably the hardest vampire I’d ever met. But I did not think he had the steel to take out all the vampires in the city, not even if he had a whole gang of Orchids with him.

  ‘Now, let us get to the matter at hand. Where do we think Magraval will strike?’

  We sat at the table for over three hours debating the best possible targets that Magraval might choose. Several times the debate grew heated as each of us believed our idea to be the right one. In the end we settled on a list of ten. Simon said he’d hand the list to the police so they could keep each location secretly watched. Magraval had gone for the children, then he’d targeted the sick. I was certain the next target would be another vulnerable group.