Tooth and Nail

by Chris Underwood

  I opened my eyes and remembered where I was. As memories flooded back, I jerked upright and looked around the guest bedroom.

  The Dealer was gone. So was the TV and the accompanying VCR.

  I lifted up the sheets and looked down at myself. I was dressed in the same borrowed clothes I’d put on after getting out of the shower. Last time the Dealer had had his way with me, I’d woken up naked, and the time before that I’d come to in a bathtub full of ice. I supposed this was an improvement.

  Licking my lips, I brought my fingers to the back of my head. At the base of my skull I felt a tender, raised spot. I wasn’t plugged in anymore, but I hadn’t been left unmarked.

  I glared at nothing in particular. “Bet you think that was real funny, don’t you?”

  If the Dealer was listening, he didn’t answer. Somehow, though, I thought I could feel him smiling that crooked smile of his, just out of sight.

  Scowling to myself, I got out of bed and went to the door. It was still locked from the inside. Maybe the Dealer had flushed himself down the toilet.

  With a sigh, I sat back down on the bed and scrubbed my face with my hands. Tiredness still pulled at me, tempting me to return to those silky sheets. But a glance at my phone told me that was out of the question. It was nearly 8 in the morning. Dawn had well and truly come. And I had a vodyanoy to find.

  Vodyanoys were reclusive creatures. Though they were sentient and reasonably intelligent, they didn’t take part in the larger community of Strangers and Aware humans that hid in Lost Falls. As far as I knew, vodyanoys didn’t even associate with each other very much.

  Vodyanoys got a bad rap. In the past, they got blamed for a lot of river drownings—or worse, they were accused of dragging people down to their underwater kingdoms to become their slaves.

  In truth, stupidity and overconfidence had caused many more drownings than any vodyanoy. Rivers could be treacherous, even when they looked peaceful.

  Still, there was no denying that vodyanoys were ornery bastards. Getting one to talk would be tricky—assuming I could find it in the first place.

  I had to assume the creature had a lair near Doyle’s Reach. That was the only reason it would’ve been watching what was going on—it would’ve been making sure its home wasn’t threatened. And if it was watching us investigate, there was a good chance it had been watching when Eventide and One-tusk had fought.

  A witness, just as the Dealer promised.

  A knock on the door interrupted my train of thought. I wondered briefly if it was Lockhart, but then I remembered it was after dawn. She and all her kind would be safely ensconced somewhere free of sunlight.

  I got up, unlocked the door, and pulled it open. Nolan stood there in last night’s clothes, leaning heavily against the door frame. He offered me a tired, closed-mouth smile.

  “You look like shit,” I told him.

  “So do you.”

  I couldn’t argue with him there. Still, even after all I’d been through with the Dealer, I felt better than he looked. Heavy bags hung below bloodshot eyes. He looked so pale I was worried he’d fall down on the spot. But there was a spaced-out bliss in his half-lidded eyes, a secret smile pulling at the corners of his lips. I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Hell. How much did she drink?”

  Nolan lifted a hand to rub the side of his neck. As he pushed his high collar aside, I caught a glimpse of the red, raised puncture marks near the base of his throat.

  “My mistress was…hungry,” he said with that post-coital smile. “Last night’s events were draining for her.”

  “Christ,” I muttered. “Come and sit down. You’re no good to me passed out in the hallway.”

  He shook his head and pushed himself off the door frame. “I’m fine. We need to—”

  His knees buckled. I caught him under the arms before he could hit the floor. For a short guy, he made for a damn heavy dead weight.

  I grumbled as I hauled him over to the bed. “What the hell do they feed you guys? Rocks?”

  “I’m okay,” he muttered. “I’m okay.”

  “Like hell you are.” I sat him down on the edge of the bed, holding him by the shoulder to keep him from falling forward.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ll be all right in a few seconds. I’m just a little light-headed.”

  I shook my head. “How can you live like this?” I asked quietly.

  I wasn’t sure if he heard me. He didn’t answer, in any case. After a couple of minutes he started to look more lucid. He dragged his sleeve across his face, wiping away the sweat that had gathered on his pale cheeks.

  “I convinced Mistress Lockhart to hold off on the incineration of Mistress Eventide’s body,” he said. “It will remain in Mistress Lockhart’s possession until nightfall. She will only allow magic to be worked on it if she is present.”

  It was about as good an outcome as I could’ve expected—and better than I’d hoped. “You must have a silver tongue.”

  He smiled at that. “I’m not sure a vampire would appreciate anything silver, let alone a tongue.”

  “No, you’re probably right.” I looked at him. “Who cooks the grub around here?”

  “I believe Elaine does most of the cooking.” He paused, then clarified. “The elderly lady who escorted you in last night.”

  “Well, let’s go see if she’s awake. You need something to eat. I do too. I hate driving on an empty stomach.”

  “Driving?” he asked as I hauled him to his feet and helped him toward the door. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m going back to Doyle’s Reach,” I said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “But—”

  “Look,” I said, “you were right last night. I need your help. But not right now. Not when you’re in this condition. Take the morning off. Eat a steak or something.”

  He frowned. There was disappointment in his face. He didn’t speak as we made our way back down the long hallway toward the center of the house. Though Lockhart was in hiding, I could hear a few other swains moving about the house. We passed one older guy mopping up the trail of muddy footprints I’d left on the floor the night before. I carefully avoided his gaze as we went past.

  “What more is there to do in Doyle’s Reach?” Nolan asked after a few minutes.

  “There may be a witness there. We’ll see.”

  “I thought we canvassed the area already.”

  “I have a hunch you may have missed something.”

  Nolan directed us to the kitchens, and there we found Elaine preparing meals for the human occupants of the house. I was just going to grab a slice of toast on the way out the door, but then the smell of frying bacon hit me and I decided it couldn’t hurt to wait a little longer.

  It’d be an insult to rush off, anyway.

  14

  The rain had cleared by the time I made it back to Doyle’s Reach. The rays of morning sunshine peeking out from behind the clouds had done little to dry the muddy quagmire that ran between the river and the ramshackle homes of the Reach’s residents. It wasn’t long before my new clothes were as muddy as the ones I’d been wearing the night before.

  A few residents of Doyle’s Reach were out and about by now. As I came into town I spotted a few patching up the roofs of their houses and trailers—the storm last night had not been kind here. Others were hanging out of windows smoking or climbing into vehicles to head off to work. My presence drew no more than a couple of glances. No one cared about me enough to be suspicious.

  The pickup truck that’d been wrapped around the base of the oak was gone. The rain had washed away most of the tire tracks, but the grass was still torn up a bit where the truck had driven through. As I got closer to the tree, I saw a few flakes of red paint smeared against the trunk. All other evidence had been erased.

  The ogres had worked fast. I didn’t know how they’d got the truck out of here. Hell, maybe they’d eaten it. Ogres had notoriously strong stomachs, after all. As much as the image tickled
me, however, I decided it was more likely they’d towed it out of here and taken it to be scrapped. The largest and wealthiest of the ogre clans ran a huge scrap yard outside Lost Falls. The only person I knew who’d ever been inside was Early, and he kept his mouth shut about exactly what went on there. Maybe he’d signed an NDA or something.

  With one arm wrapped around the trunk of the oak tree, I carefully stepped to the edge of the steep, muddy riverbank. The river level had dropped since last night, so it was a few feet down to the water. Mossy roots stretched out from the soil at the base of the tree, reaching out to drink from the river. Reeds grew in the shelter provided by the roots.

  The opposite side of the river was more heavily wooded than this side. Where I was, most of the natural vegetation had been cleared away, leaving the riverbank a swampy, eroded mess. The people of Doyle’s Reach had built their homes well back from the riverbank, no doubt to keep themselves from being flooded in case of a storm like the one we’d had last night.

  There was a small wooden jetty further down the riverbank, with a couple of dinghies tied up nearby. The vodyanoy wouldn’t have its lair down that way. There were too few places to hide.

  Still, I didn’t think it would be too far away. Vodyanoys, like many Strangers, depended on humans to survive. They stole or scavenged whatever they could find: food, clothes, simple tools. If you ever wonder why all your socks keep disappearing, you might have a kikimora or a hobgoblin living nearby.

  I scanned the far riverbank. There were plenty of places for the vodyanoy to make its lair over there. I could search for days and never find it. Somehow, though, I didn’t think that was where the creature made its home. Smuggling treasures from Doyle’s Reach back across the river would be too inconvenient. And besides, if it lived across the river, it wouldn’t have taken such an interest in what had happened last night.

  No, its lair was close by. Close enough to allow it to hear the commotion over the sound of the storm. Close enough to get its attention. Close enough to make it worried.

  I looked down at the fast-flowing river again, and then at the tangle of roots stretching from the base of the oak tree out into the water.

  I rubbed my beard, thinking. “Maybe…” I muttered to myself.

  There was one way to find out. Trouble was, it was a very unappealing way.

  I stepped back and turned in place, trying to think of an alternative. None came to me. With a sigh, I accepted the inevitable and took off my coat and shoes.

  I glanced back toward the village. I couldn’t see anyone watching, but anyone could have been peeking out from behind pulled curtains.

  Turning so my back was to any nosy neighbors, I stuffed my coat, shoes, and cell phone into my bag. I grabbed my truncheon and hung it from my belt. While I was at it, I fished something else out of one of the side pockets.

  Early had once spent the better part of two days trying to develop a modified sunflare potion that would produce low levels of light for an extended period of time. In the end, I took pity on him and showed him how to order glow sticks on Amazon.

  When the box came, I’d snagged a few for my own use. This one had been sitting in my bag so long I wasn’t even sure it would still work. When I cracked it, though, an orange glow filled the stick. I hung it on my belt opposite my truncheon, then hid my bag among the grass and exposed roots of the tree.

  Turning, I took one more look down at the river.

  “The things I do for this town,” I muttered to myself.

  Then, as carefully as possible, I slid down the muddy bank and into the churning river.

  The water soaked through my clothes immediately. I gasped involuntarily as the cold hit me. It was worse than I’d been expecting.

  The fast-flowing river threatened to pull me under, and my waterlogged clothes weren’t helping anything. Even here, near the bank, the water was waist-deep. I grabbed hold of a couple of overhanging roots to keep myself from being pulled downstream.

  When I’d recovered from the initial shock of the cold water, I peered through the roots to the bank at the base of the oak. A few patches of wild reeds and grasses poked out of the water within the shelter offered by the oak’s roots. Beyond them, though, I could see a hollow in the riverbank beneath the tree, half-hidden behind a curtain of thinner roots and drooping grasses. It was wide at first, but narrowed quickly until only a cavity the diameter of a beach ball was visible above the surface of the water. The cavity stretched back beneath the base of the tree, disappearing into darkness.

  I eyed the hole in the riverbank for a few seconds, wondering if this was really the best idea. Then, resigning myself, I squeezed between a pair of outstretched roots and paddled toward the cavity.

  The reeds growing near the base of the tree had made me think the water would be shallower here, but it quickly became clear that a deeper channel ran between the patches of reeds. I didn’t know enough about the fluid dynamics of rivers to guess whether or not the channel was naturally occurring.

  I waded through the channel, the water up to my chest. As I came to the opening in the bank, I unhooked the glow stick from my belt and held it up. Orange light played across the surface of the water. Slowly, I pushed aside the curtain of foliage that covered the opening.

  At first, I thought the cavity ended a couple of feet from the opening. But as I raised the glow stick a little higher, I realized there was a bend in the tunnel, after which it presumably continued on. Water filled most of the cavity, except for a small space at the top, just large enough that I might be able to keep my head above water if I continued in.

  As soon as I had that thought, I knew there would be no “if.” My own curiosity had its claws in me now. My gut told me this opening couldn’t be entirely natural.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  My voice was swallowed by the river water and the damp soil. No response came.

  “My name is Ozzy,” I said. “I’m a cunning man. I’m not here to hurt you. I just wanted to ask you about what you saw last night.”

  I waited. Nothing.

  “All right,” I called. “I’m coming in. Don’t freak out, okay?”

  I pushed forward, letting my feet drag behind me on the river bottom as I swam in through the opening. Within seconds, the earth closed in tight around me. The smell of damp soil filled my nostrils. My hair rubbed against the top of the tunnel, sending streams of loose dirt into the water around me. My shoulders went beneath the water again, then my neck, then my beard. I had to close my mouth and breathe through my nose as the top of the tunnel grew even lower.

  Thin roots from the grass and weeds above broke through the ceiling of the cavern, trailing over my face as I paddled slowly into the cavity. For a moment, I had a flashback to several months ago, when hundreds of rats had swarmed over me, their tails whipping at my face.

  Shuddering, I suppressed the memory. I held the glow stick ahead of me, just below the surface of the water. The orange glow danced across the dirt ceiling overhead.

  A few feet in, I passed the turning in the tunnel. I was expecting no more than a couple more feet before the tunnel reached an end. Instead, the tunnel stretched out ahead of me, beyond the reach of the glow stick’s light. How far did this damn thing stretch?

  I became aware that the water was getting deeper the further I went into the cavity. I paddled forward a little further, and found I could no longer touch the bottom with my feet. I paused and lowered the light further beneath the surface, trying to make out the bottom, but the water was too murky. All I could make out was the hazy shadow of my body as I floated in place, treading water.

  Beneath the water, at the edge of the orange glow, a dark shadow darted past me. I felt the water shift around my legs, then the thing was gone.

  My heart began to pound. Just a fish, I told myself.

  A big damn fish.

  I turned in place, sweeping the glow stick around beneath the water, trying to catch another glimpse of the creature. My movements only
stirred more mud and made it even harder to see.

  Keep moving, I told myself. The tunnel had to end sometime, and I wanted to find it before the glow stick started running out of juice.

  I started swimming again, a little faster now. Water splashed up my nose, but I kept going. My legs were growing tired—I couldn’t paddle with my arms in the tight confines of the tunnel. I started wishing I’d stripped off a little more. With every kick I could feel my clothes dragging at me, making it that much harder to swim.

  The light of my glow stick illuminated another turn ahead. Did this tunnel stretch all the way back to the row of houses and trailers at the edge of Doyle’s Reach?

  At the bend, the tunnel got somehow even smaller. As I approached it, I realized I could no longer keep my nose above water. I thought about turning back. I nearly did. I’d like to say it was bravery or a strong sense of duty that made me keep going.

  In truth, it was nothing but sheer curiosity.

  Taking one last deep breath, I slid down until only my eyes were above the surface of the water. I pushed off the wall and swam through the bend.

  The walls grew tight around me, so tight I began to worry I wouldn’t be able to turn around if I tried. Every movement sent trickles of dirt dropping from the ceiling into the water around me.

  And then I was through. The walls began to open up once more. I was able to raise my whole head above water. A couple of feet later I lifted the glow stick above my head, illuminating the cavern I’d found myself in.

  The cavern wasn’t big, but after the tunnel I’d just been through, it felt grand. The light didn’t even touch the far side. Near me, I could see that the walls were no longer just dirt—worn stone also caught the orange of my glow stick. At the far end of the cavern, where the light only barely touched, a shelf of stone rose out of the water. Dark, motionless shapes were scattered about on the shelf like furniture. After staring for a second, I began to paddle slowly forward, straining to see in the darkness. I didn’t think I could stand fully upright on the shelf of stone—hell, at the edges I’d probably have to crawl. But at least I could get out of this damn—