Night's Black Agents (Paxton Locke Book 2)

by Daniel Humphreys

  That discovery had been as shocking as it had been embarrassing. She’d spent most of her high school career rolling her eyes at the burnouts and booze-hounds in her suburban high school. Out of her comfort zone and in an unfamiliar place, she’d started drinking to fit in and ease her social anxiety. Playing to the expectations of the crowd was easier than being herself, but before she knew it she’d lost her scholarships.

  It could have been anything other than booze. It wasn’t that she had any sort of genetic propensity to alcoholism—her dad was pretty much a teetotaler save for the occasional beer—but rather the fact that when she did something, she was all in, whether it be volleyball at Tremper High, the drinking, AA, or the long-term plan she’d been working to finish college. “Cassie Focus” had endeared her to a lot of coaches and teachers and annoyed the hell out of friends. And it was something she couldn’t switch off, though she’d learned to redirect her energies into more positive efforts.

  And then, last week, she’d stumbled into something amazing. And as terrifying and surreal as the experience had been, she had to admit that she’d felt things that she hadn’t in a good long while—hope, excitement, and a realization that there were far more layers to the world around her than she’d ever thought possible.

  She flipped her sobriety token around in one hand, rubbing on the fading ‘1’ with her thumb. Time for a new one, soon. Her sponsor hadn’t been happy when Cassie had told her that she was going out of town indefinitely, but even if Anna had been less understanding than her own dad, she’d at least recognized that once she got her mind set on something, Cassie was intent on doing it.

  It was an aspect of herself that she’d only partly understood, before, but once she’d mastered the truth spell her perspective had changed. It wasn’t so much that she’d used the spell on herself, but the actual knowledge of it pulled the veil back on certain truths she’d kept hidden from herself. Recognizing her own tendency toward obsessive habits didn’t help her avoid it, but she could choose what to obsess about.

  Magic? Adventure? Being a big damn hero? Oh, hell, yeah.

  There was always a but, though, wasn’t there? Because as much as she’d insisted to Paxton that she wanted to work together as equal partners, there was more than a little something there. A fluttery, nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach that didn’t seem to want to go away. She supposed that she’d come pretty close to dying or being severely injured today, but all she could think about was the hug they’d shared, and how much more that moment could have been if she hadn’t been afraid. It was funny—she had an advantage that no other woman had ever had. She knew with absolute certainty that the guy she was crushing on had similar feelings.

  In two steps, she’d be at the bathroom door. Two more steps to the door leading into Pax’s room. After that—well. She didn’t need a truth spell to know how that would go.

  Cassie lowered her head and smiled ruefully. ‘Sidekick, hell,’ you had to say. You idiot.

  She stared at the comforter on the bed, then glanced at the time on her phone. If she didn’t get at least a little sleep, she was going to be a zombie when the time came to get up. Pax had mentioned trying something before they headed to the police station. The fact that he wasn’t hesitating to take her along told her that he was still taking the sidekick remark to heart, and that made the whole situation even better. Sleep now. Be ready for tomorrow. You’ll get a chance later.

  Maybe she was telling herself what she needed to, but she had the sense that she was right.

  And despite the difficulty she’d had falling asleep earlier , this time she was out almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  Paxton

  Phoenix, Arizona—Saturday morning

  Jean drove. Neither Kent or I felt comfortable with the idea of leaving her alone at the house. We had no idea if Tlaloc would try anything, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Thankfully, being a cop’s wife over the span of several decades meant that she was not only familiar with handguns, she had one of her very own. There were, I thought with a shake of my head, more guns than people in the Sikoras’ Suburban.

  “I’ll keep circling the block,” Jean said as she pulled up to the Central City precinct. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but a gray block building with a bright blue metal roof wasn’t it. The place looked more like a YMCA than a police station.

  Tully waited outside the main entrance doors. As he saw us pull up, he raised his hand in a mocking, arrogant wave.

  “Text every couple of minutes,” Jane said. Kent nodded, then leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  “Talk to you soon,” he said. The fact his voice was gruffer than usual had to be a trick of my ears. No way the old man was getting sentimental on me. I glanced at Cassie and gave her a wink. She smiled with one corner of her mouth—she’d caught it, as well.

  We stepped out of the truck and headed toward the entrance. For a moment I thought Tully might block the doors, but he pulled one open and waved us onward with a luxurious wave.

  The interior of the station wasn’t empty, but it was close. A couple of uniformed officers gave curious looks to our strange trio as we followed the possessed police detective back through rows of low-walled cubicles.

  Our final destination was a glass-walled office. The legend ‘CAPTAIN SPIKER’ was painted on the glass door. Again, Tully held it open for us. Turning my back on him made my skin crawl, but I moved through the opening as fast as I could and hoped for the best.

  The man sitting behind the desk was a broad-shouldered white guy with a silver buzz-cut. He looked more like a retired gym teacher than a cop. He stared at us with intense eyes, then indicated a pair of chairs lined up with exacting precision in front of him. I snagged a spare from its place against the wall and added it for Cassie, a bit off-kilter from the others. His expression didn’t change a bit. I must be losing my touch.

  As Kent and Cassie picked seats, I let my eyes roam around the office. A slick-haired, legal eagle type in a tailored suit sat in a chair against the back wall. He was too busy tapping away on his cell phone to notice or acknowledge our presence.

  Kent took the left chair and Cassie the center. I hesitated for a moment, waiting for Tully to stay by the door, but he sidled around and leaned on one corner of the Captain’s desk. I sat, and the Captain spoke.

  “I’m Captain Spiker.” He indicated the guy in the suit. “This is Donald Thibodeau, the mayor’s Chief of Staff. Thank you for coming.”

  Didn’t have much choice, I didn’t say. Kent and I had hashed out a bargain on the way over—he had the lead until things got weird, then it was my show.

  I half-hoped this would stay straight, but I wouldn’t have laid money on it. There was an odd vibe in the air. These guys were so relaxed they might have been playing a game. And maybe they were. I could cut my way out of the place, but unless I missed my guess, the station had more surveillance cameras than you could shake a stick at. Then there were the—probably—human cops out front. If I started something in here, it would turn the police station into a shooting gallery, fast.

  I stiffened. Is that what this is? Do they want an excuse to arrest me, to take me off of the board? I tried not to laugh and wondered how my guardian angel would react if that happened. I heard my name and started paying attention.

  “…Locke, there’s a lot of interesting stuff about you on the Internet.”

  “That Nancy Grace special was a total joke,” I said. “She never even asked for a quote.”

  The Captain didn’t crack a smile. He waited, and once he was certain that I’d finished smarting off, he continued. “While you may style yourself as some sort of paranormal consultant, we have neither the time nor budget to engage your services.” His eyes flickered over to Kent. “Regardless of what the detective has told you.”

  I tried to keep the confusion off of my face. Was the verbal jousting for Cassie’s benefit? I reached out and took hold of her hand, squeezing it gently. “Wha
t’s with the game? We all know everyone in here is a drone. You’re a bunch of meat puppets. Drop the act.”

  I felt Cassie tense a bit at my signal, then she relaxed. “No, that’s not right,” she murmured, then raised her free hand. “He’s not.” She pointed at the baby-faced chief of staff.

  Thibodeau raised his eyes from his phone and grinned. “Guilty as charged, blondie. Tlaloc’s busy with other things, at the moment. These guys are more like guided missiles, I guess you’d say.” If Tully or Joe took offense to the description, neither showed it.

  “What’s that make you?” I asked. “The lawyer?”

  “Watch your mouth, kid. I’m a diplomat. I’m here to negotiate the peace.”

  Kent shifted in his chair. I could tell he didn’t like it, but it looked like the weird shit meter had pegged to the max. “Some diplomat,” I scoffed. “Working with a crew that kills homeless people and kidnaps little kids.”

  “There are many types of diplomacy. Some take a little more force than others.” He shrugged. “People don’t play along, sometimes they need an object example to make them toe the line. Going at them directly isn’t always the best tactic, but you show them what could happen—well, that fixes things up, right as rain. The Wilson mother and father were unlucky in their choice of friends.” He grinned. “Someone stepped back in line, and from the looks of things, the kids are going to be way more filling than some bums off the street.”

  I still didn’t know what Tlaloc was, exactly, but that made sense. Most of the paranormal things I’d dealt with other than ghosts fed on the energy of human emotion, for lack of a better term. The Edimmu had been a ghost-eater. I shifted in my chair and tried to keep my face still. Circumstantial evidence that Tlaloc was something similar kept on piling up.

  “You’re going to have a hard time feeding your master when I rescue those kids and shove a shotgun down your throat,” I muttered.

  Thibodeau frowned. “I don’t have to justify myself to you, wizard. We’re making a better city, here, with better people. Crime, drugs, all the things that come with them? Gone. The people that step into line reap the benefits. Those who don’t, serve Tlaloc. Sure, there are some growing pains along the way, but that’s life. Eventually, everybody wins.”

  “Except for the guys that got their guts scooped out. Except for Evan and Ethan, or their mom and dad.”

  He spread his hands. “The big dog’s gotta eat.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  “Let’s cut the dick-beating, shall we? Your little shit show on the other side of the town was a big pain in my ass. I’ve got the Feds sniffing around now, and I’m not quite ready for that. If it’s a one-time thing, no sweat. We can write it off to a cartel making an example of someone. But if that sort of thing keeps happening, well. That’s a whole ‘nother ball of wax. Here’s the deal. Detective Sikora, you turn in your badge, you get your pension. Full benefits, no quibbles about it being early. Move away, if you want. Or stay. I don’t give a shit. We really are going to build a world-class city here.” He turned to me. “You and your little squeeze there need to hit the road. You’re trespassing on claimed territory, wizard. And you do not want to mess with Tlaloc when he gets in a mood.”

  I resisted the urge to flip off the smarmy jackass. “You’d be surprised, asshole. I’ve burned a shadow demon or two in my day.” One, to be precise, and that was more a struck of luck than anything—but when you’re dealing with a bully, it’s always best to come off strong rather than weak.

  “Demon? Try god, kid.”

  “Well, like the Captain said, there’s only one God, Donnie.”

  A flash of confusion went across his face, and he glanced at Captain Spiker. “He said what, when now?”

  I thought about resisting the urge to facepalm but decided to roll with it. “Donnie, how are we even having this conversation if you can’t pick up on classical references?”

  “Whatever. Final offer. Take it or leave it.”

  Cassie put her hand on top of mine. We’d rehearsed this, and it didn’t feel genuine to me, but I hoped that Thibodeau didn’t have the empathy to recognize the deception. “Pax,” she said. “We’re outnumbered, here. Maybe even outclassed.”

  I tried to look angry, then glanced at Donnie. Sure enough, he was eating it up with a spoon. The grin on his face made me want to punch him a few dozen times.

  Kent stood with a convulsive movement and jerked his badge off his belt. “Let’s go, guys.” He slammed the badge on Spiker’s desk. “I hated the weather, anyway.”

  I kept a wary eye on Tully and Spiker as I stood, but they seemed content to let us be. And why not? So far as they could tell, we were running away with our tails between our legs. Even knowing that it was a ruse, backing down like this still pissed me off, and I imagined the hot flush in my cheeks helped sell the act.

  Donnie followed me out the door. “How’d you say it, the other day? ‘Get out of town by sunset?’ Yeah. Time to get with the lingo, wizard.” He flicked his fingers at me. “Off you go.”

  It was childish and stupid, and a myriad of other things, but hell. I wasn’t going to let this smug prick think he was making me sweat. I looked over Donnie’s head and estimated the distance to the closest sprinkler nozzle. I twitched a couple of fingers ever-so-slightly and exercised a bit of will. About what you’d need to fetch a drink from the fridge. The bottom of the head popped off, and murky water spewed forth.

  The sudden spray poured down around Donnie, cracking his perfect hairdo and soaking his tailored suit. Stunned, he jerked his head back and forth between me and the broken sprinkler as though unsure what to do.

  “Wow,” I said, adopting an expression of innocence. “If you’re building a better city, looks like you need to work on the infrastructure first, big man.”

  Without bothering to wait for his response, I turned on one heel and walked out.

  CHAPTER 20

  Valentine

  Phoenix, Arizona—Saturday morning

  He paced the floor until Paxton and his crew returned. He’d made his way across the ravine after midnight and affixed magnetic GPS trackers to the RV and both vehicles. Knowing where they were off to should have eased his concern, but it hadn’t. When the house across the way had emptied, he’d made an executive decision to double-down on the tracking.

  Ten minutes after that, Eliot pulled back into their own driveway. Val waited until he had the door shut behind him before asking, “Well?”

  His partner shook his head, a confused look on his face. “It was the weirdest thing. Locke, the girl, and Sikora all got out at a police precinct. The detective’s wife drove around in circles. I followed her around, once, but I figured she’d spot me if I kept at it. I waited by the station and kept an eye out. They left after only a few minutes and headed straight back.”

  Val frowned, then shrugged. “We’re here to wait for Helen and her crew to show up. Whatever business he’s gotten himself up to doesn’t have anything to do with us.”

  “You want to reach out to the locals?”

  “Nah, Anjewierden and the other guys out of the field office are already on the bone thing. I’d rather keep a low profile.”

  “I almost feel like we need another car.” Eliot walked into the kitchen and poured himself a coffee. “I don’t want them to spot the tail.”

  Val shrugged. “We don’t go out unless Paxton leaves. The others, who cares. And with the tracker, we should be able to stay far enough away to avoid notice.”

  “True.”

  “Hey!” George called from his workstation. “You guys need to check this out.”

  He had a spreadsheet with charts opened up on his laptop screen. “That kid agent sent over the reports you asked for.”

  Val leaned in. “Footnotes? We’d better watch out, we’re probably going to be working for him in ten years. ” The charts detailed all the Division M call-outs for the local field office, with incident numbers. The minutiae weren’
t nearly as interesting as the striking graphical representations.

  George tapped one of the charts. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Three months ago, they went from an average of five incidents a week to basically zero.” Anjewierden had labeled the few spikes above the zero line with asterisks. Below the chart, the indicator read that all such marked incidents had occurred well outside of the city limits and referred to a secondary worksheet.

  “Says there he’s got maps?”

  “Yup.” George clicked over. Starting a year back, red marks dotted the map of the state. The random pattern continued as George scrolled down through the months, until a massive hole opened up in August, centered around Phoenix.

  Eliot nudged Val. “You ever see anything like this?”

  Val shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but Morgan’s response cut him off.

  “I have.”

  He turned to her and raised an eyebrow. “I’m all ears.”

  “Chicago.” She held eye contact, then looked meaningfully at Eliot.

  Val glanced at his partner, then back at her. “You’re sure?”

  “It wasn’t so pretty and detailed, but we had a push-pin map on the wall in the Springfield office back in the day that looked just like it.”

  Eliot crossed his arms. “What are you saying, exactly?”

  “It’s a sign of a mystical apex predator. The lower-tier cryptids get antsy and tend to head for greener pastures. You’ve been feeling on-edge, right?”

  “Yes, but—” Eliot hesitated. “It wouldn’t be another mannaro, would it? The few times we’ve run into others, it’s been a different feeling than this. This is less annoying, more like something is watching me.”

  “Probably not, then,” Morgan said. “It’s something else. More ethereal than cryptid, possibly, since young Mr. Locke seems to be some sort of self-taught expert on ghosts. What do we do?”