By the time we got the keys to our rental car and headed out of the airport proper, it was rounding past noon. Not knowing where our research might take us, I’d opted for the four-wheel drive upgrade. Kent had made noises about paying me to consult when he’d first sought my help, but it sounded like any sort of official fee was not liable to happen at this point.
Which was okay. One of the oddities of my calling was that for those who really needed my help, I did so free of charge. My best friend Carlos ran the online ads that brought in most of my clientele. He did the heavy lifting of filtering out the nuts from the needy. Even so, a good fifty percent of the time my house calls were false alarms. Paradoxically, those same false alarms, more often than not consisted of people with more money than sense. I had no qualms about keeping their money.
If you’re calling someone on the Internet to get rid of a ghost, you’re either deadly serious, or a sucker. And we all know the apocryphal quote attributed to PT Barnum on that particular topic. The eccentricity of my ghost hypochondriacs kept me in business and allowed me to do pro bono work for the folks with real problems.
As such, in terms of resources we were in fine shape, even doing this for free. My assets were a bit depleted from having to replace the RV and most of my belongings, but I wasn’t in dire need of having to find a job anytime soon. Which made the decision to step up to a Ford Explorer a no-brainer. And after the nerve-wracking commute this morning, I don’t know how I would have felt in the middle of Phoenix traffic low to the ground in a sedan.
The third victim had been dumped in an alley a mile off one of the shadier I-17 exits. Kent had warned me before handing his list of addresses over that this wasn’t a place to let our guard down. “It’s a lot of run-down homes and industrial buildings. Plenty of gang and drug activity.”
Now, as we came closer to the blinking dot on the Explorer’s navigation system, I questioned my own bravado. When we’d picked up the rental car Cassie had asked if I wanted to backtrack to Kent’s house, but I’d shrugged off the suggestion.
As we passed weed-choked empty lots and abandoned buildings, I questioned the wisdom of that decision. I took a peek at my passenger. “I’m wondering if you shouldn’t stay in the car.”
Cassie pressed her lips together, and I realized she was resisting the urge to grin. “Not a chance, hotshot. Keep your eyes open. It can’t be that bad in the middle of the day.”
“Hope so,” I agreed. I turned past a high school. The high, heavy-duty fencing around it put the exclamation point on Kent’s warning about the neighborhood. ‘Home of the Mustangs’, the sign read. If there were any mustangs on campus, no way they were jumping that fence. Probably saved the kids money on fast food lunches, too.
The GPS announced that we’d reached our destination, and sure enough, it was as Kent described. The alley ran alongside a long cinder block building. A parking lot, presumably for the building, sat on the opposite side. A low wall constructed from the same block as the building traced around the alley side of the parking lot. A gap in that barrier lined up with a boarded-up doorway. People had worked here once, at who knew what, but all that remained now was the husk of what had been, like dry bones in the desert.
A chill ran up my spine, and I shook my head with a snort. Good grief, Pax. You’re going to spook yourself before you even find a ghost.
Pulling the Explorer into a spot close to the door opening, I gave Cassie a confident node and opened the door.
“Eyes in the back of your head, kid,” she joked, but there was an undercurrent of worry in her voice.
Was I spooking myself, or was there something about this spot? I turned in place, letting myself feel the slight breeze on my skin and other, less tangible things. I didn’t have a word for it, but something seemed off, here. It was too still—as though the building was a living creature, a rabbit frozen in fear by the appearance of a wolf.
“Let’s try something,” I said before the idea had fully-formed. “Flip the switch, or whatever. On your spell.”
“Yoga pose,” she reminded me but nodded.
I waved a hand and pushed. “Hey. Anybody there?” Even waiting for a few moments longer than I had at the park and canal, I didn’t feel a response. We were three-for-three, and I didn’t like it. “There’s nothing here,” I muttered.
At my side, Cassie flinched.
“What?”
She raised a shaking hand and indicated the boarded-up door “There. In there.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know what it is, but I know that there’s something or someone in there. I thought the spell was supposed to be more accurate than that? The book made it sound like…” She began to shiver.
“I don’t know. Maybe—maybe there’s some sort of conflict with our magic or something. That can happen.” That odd aspect of wizarding was something I hadn’t entirely figured out, myself. The same spell that gave me the ability to speak and attract ghosts cooperated with the push, so to speak, to allow me to banish them. Other spells weren’t as compatible. I couldn’t push while invisible, for example. I didn’t know why it didn’t work. It sure freaked out the guy I tried it on, though.
“Well. What’s the move?”
I stared at the door and debated for a moment. “Let’s check it out. We’ll be all right.”
Cassie made a face. “Fine. But we’re heading back to Kent’s house after this.”
“No argument here,” I agreed. Tugging experimentally on the sheet of plywood over the door, I discovered that the bottom left corner was loose. There was just enough room to squeeze between it and the door frame to gain access to the interior.
“Well, that’s convenient.” Cassie’s tone was sarcastic, but her voice shook a bit.
“Isn’t it, though.” I crouched and tried to see inside. Dust and scraps of paper streaked the portion of the bare concrete floor that I was able to make out. The coverage wasn’t uniform enough to discern footprints, but there were enough suspicious smudges to make me wonder if we weren’t about to intrude into some squatter’s den. “Hold the plywood back.”
“What, no ladies first?”
“Executive decision, partner. Unless you mastered the TK spell when I wasn’t looking.”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “Note to self—no more going out unarmed.”
“Noted,” I agreed. Laying on my side, I was able to squeeze-crawl my way through the largest part of the opening. Inside, I brushed dust and dirt from my jeans and pushed a bit more on the plywood. It cracked and groaned a bit. The nails in the upper half of the open side came out a bit, but it was enough that Cassie was able to come through on the crouch.
We hesitated for a moment at the door. The boarded-over windows cast a gloom over the interior of the building, but a few dust-covered skylights let in enough light to cast the place in a mixture of shadow and twilight.
“Bring your flashlight, Scully?” I pulled my new cell phone out and turned on the flashlight function. When Cassie added hers to the mix, we had plenty of light.
The building was far from empty. Pallets lay on the floor in singles and in uneven stacks. Scattered cardboard boxes here and there proved to hold paper as I shone a light on them. That and the hulking metallic machines bolted to the concrete across the room identified the former business as some sort of print shop.
“Seems like a lot of expensive stuff to leave behind,” Cassie whispered. Without conscious decision, we both stepped forward, deeper into the building. The light cast by our phones revealed shelving units, abandoned desks, a rectangular folding table. With a hiss, Cassie grabbed my arm with one hand. “There.”
I followed her pointing finger. There was a pile of rags under the folding table. As my eyes picked through the shadows, I realized that the pile of rags was a person. Without thinking, I cleaned my free hand into a fist and called up a force blade. Cassie must have sensed the move because she murmured under her breath.
“No, no.” She breathed a low s
igh that seemed almost content. “We’re safe. She’s no danger to us.”
Cassie stepped forward, pulling away a bit, and crouched down beside the table. The pile of rags shifted, and a pair of glittering eyes revealed themselves. The owner’s face came forward, into the light, and revealed itself to be a smooth-faced woman. Her hair was matted, and dirt streaked her face, but I would have been shocked if she was a day older than thirty. The other woman’s voice shook. “Safe?”
“You’re safe, Angie. That’s your name, right? I see it, now.” Cassie’s voice was joyous, awestruck. The woman—Angie—must have sensed that something in her voice, because the tension went out of her all at once.
“Pretty witch. I dreamed about you.” She looked past Cassie, and as she saw me her eyes widened in dismay. “Wizard wizard, white wizard. They watch you, wizard. Want you to die, wizard.” She pulled back from Cassie and me, as though preparing to bolt.
“Who?” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “Who wants me to die?”
“They. They who watch. They who sacrifice. They want me to come home, but I don’t listen. No, no, I don’t obey. They had eyes on Angie, yes, but I put them out.” She raised a bundled-up arm, then pulled back shirtsleeves to reveal a wrist with bones as delicate as those of any bird.
I could tell, because a patch of flesh the approximate size and shape of a credit card had been scoured away, somehow, baring muscle, tendon, and bone. The stench of rotting flesh trickled into my nose, and I clamped my lips shut in a bid to keep my breakfast down.
Cassie choked. “Oh God, honey, that’s infected. Let us help you. We can take you to a hospital, they can take care of—”
“No! They are everywhere!”
“Please,” I said. It was probably a mistake, but I moved closer to Cassie and stretched out my hand. “If that gets much worse, you’re liable to die, Angie.”
I jerked in surprise as her hand slapped mine away. My reaction was not from the pain of the blow but from the sudden, blistering wind against my face. As shocking as the gale was, it wasn’t nearly as surprising as the blinding light. Squinting, I covered my eyes with one hand and peered out until my eyes could adjust to the brightness.
Blinking away stars, I lowered my hand. My vision had recovered to some extent, but I still had to wonder if something hadn’t shaken loose upstairs because the vista before me smacked of impossibility.
The crumbled blocks around me were obviously the former walls of the print shop building. The concrete under my feet was run-through with cracks and crumbled in some spots. The rusted bits of debris littering the surface seemed to be the remnants of the roof trusses. It was, I realized, as though I’d been thrust decades into the future.
My long-sleeved shirt was far too heavy for the shifted climate. Despite the breeze, sweat was already dripping down my back. I turned a slow circle, trying to find the bag lady, but she was nowhere to be found. Halfway around, though, I found something even more impossible.
To the north, an imposing stone structure stretched into the sky. Roughly pyramidal in form with a flattened, truncated top, it seemed more akin to a child’s stagger-stepped block construction than the smooth-sided pyramids of the Middle East. Squinting, I realized that the black specks moving across its surface and up the broad staircase at its direct center were people. My sense of scale was off more than I’d realized. Given the size of those people-specks, the pyramid was miles away and hundreds of feet in height—easily enough to dwarf the tallest office buildings in Phoenix’s downtown.
The wind shifted a bit, and a sickly-sweet stench came along for the ride. I grimaced. The miasma seemed composed of blood, rot, burning meat, and other, fouler things. Though I couldn’t make it out at any level of detail, somehow I knew that the pyramid was the source it all. Stupefied in terror, I backed away. Some unseen bit of debris tangled my feet up, and I toppled backward—
Into the cool, dim air that I’d just left. Panting, heart pounding, the sudden ache in my back where I’d fallen came almost as an afterthought. Something surged inside of me, and I twisted to the side just in time, spewing a torrent of coffee and breakfast burrito onto the dusty floor.
“Shit, Pax!” Cassie barked, backing away from the puddle of my vomit.
“Where’d she go?” I wiped my mouth with the back of one shaking hand. “Did she come back, too?”
“Back from where? You just stood there, shaking. She went out the door.”
Shaking, I stared at Cassie, seeing the truth in her eyes. If I’d never left, from her perspective, what did that mean? I thought back to the dreamscape the Edimmu had crafted in my own mind during our confrontation and wondered if this hadn’t been something similar. Even so, my sense of this was different. That nightmare realm had been forged out of my own memories, for the most part. This felt more like a warning. But from who? Angie? Someone—or something—else?
Without thinking, I wiped my face, then shuddered as I realized there was yet one more difference from what I’d experienced before. I showed my palm to Cassie and swallowed past a dry throat. “I’m drenched with sweat.”
CHAPTER 14
Valentine
Leesburg, Virginia—Friday morning
Office space and prying eyes were at a premium in the main building, so the majority of Division M’s field agents and support staff occupied a nondescript warehouse well outside of the Beltway. Years ago, it had been even more anonymous, well away from the main road and surrounded by woods. The population boom and general increase in housing demand had whittled that away over the years, though the government had managed to keep enough of the original land to screen the parking lot from civilian eyes. There weren’t as many deer in the woods as there had been in the old days, but there were a lot more surveillance devices—technological as well as mystical. The wildlife got a pass; anything on two legs that came through the woods was in for a bad time.
Be better if we were out west. Val took a sip of his coffee and studied the view outside of his office window. Could fence things off, at least. The harsh reality of being even a gray government agency, however, made that difficult. The Senators and Representatives liked to be able to make the occasional visit, to see what the budget dollars were paying for. Or to terrify themselves with the occupants of the Menagerie. He smirked to himself. The joke was on them, there. The really bad stuff was in the Pit, under Guantanamo Bay.
Metal clanked out in the warehouse, and Val turned with a sigh. George and some of the tech crew were working out their mission load, if—when, Val told himself—they tracked down Locke. This time around, the balding agent had insisted they bring all the toys.
Not that I mind. Peace through superior firepower is one of the finer hallmarks of this century. Val drained his cup of coffee and returned to his desk. He had nothing against modern technology, but he still did some of his best thinking on paper. He’d spread a map of the United States across the blotter and marked Locke’s most recent whereabouts on it with a marker.
Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin, last week. Then Joplin, Missouri. The initial foray of their digital search had borne some fruit. A license plate scanner on the Will Rogers Turnpike had captured them heading west the day after Joplin, but that was the last sighting.
And there was a whole lot of west, out there. He ran his finger along the various routes. There were only so many places he could go. One of the detectives investigating the murder of Locke’s father had taken over official guardianship while he was still a minor. That address in Phoenix was where Locke’s mail went.
That seemed simplistic to Valentine, though. Most of the money that flowed into the kid’s surprisingly healthy bank account originated from a private detective agency in San Diego. Tax records identified one of the partners in that venture as the other detective involved in the original Locke case.
Which was interesting, wasn’t it? Had the kid used his powers to put both police officers under his spell? Or had the two men legitimately taken the boy underneath the
ir wing? Against orders, Valentine had taken the measure of the kid in the hospital last week. At the time, he’d thought the kid was on the right side—something Newquist had also implied. But he’d made mistakes before, trusting the judgment of others over his own gut. There were three places he was most likely to head to. San Diego or Phoenix didn’t necessarily equal innocence, but they were a better sign than the alternative. Going with his gut, he guessed the two were en route for San Diego—which was far too close to San Francisco for comfort.
“If you’re meeting up with your mom, kid, I’ll put you down like a dog,” Valentine whispered. He flattened one of the creases in the map.
“What’s up, Doc?” Eliot rapped on the door and stuck his head in the office.
Valentine grimaced at the nickname and studied his partner. The dark circles under his eyes had faded a bit. “Get some sleep?”
“Hell, yes. I actually feel almost human. You?”
“Enough,” Val said.
Eliot laughed. “Liar. You hear the latest?”
He raised an eyebrow and waited. Eliot waved a piece of paper. “Kid used his credit card to rent a car at Sky Harbor International, in Phoenix. Best bet, he’s crashing at Sikora’s place. Boss is working on getting us a plane to Luke Air Force Base.”
Well, shit. Missed that one. “Interesting. We have any prospects for observation?”
“Morgan’s running checks with realtors in the area, there’s a house on the market that should be nigh-on perfect. We can park the moving van there and observe. We need to figure out what to use for alternate transportation, though. We can draw a car from the local office, but if we come and go too much, we’ll draw attention. It’s a small neighborhood.”
“So, do we play it close to the vest, or flash badges and hope no one opens their mouths?” Val frowned in thought, but another clang of metal from out in the warehouse drew his attention away from the conversation. “What in the Sam Hill are they doing out there?”
“You haven’t seen it? Latest thing out of R&D. Hans and Kevin are giggling like school girls, and George isn’t far behind. I’ll put it this way. If we get in a scrape, we won’t need to worry about calling for backup.”
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