Blood Summoned

by N. P. Martin

  The inside of the club still stank of death. There were bloodstains everywhere. Bullet holes peppered every surface. Broken glass covered the bar. Turning in my seat, I stared up at the stage and remembered seeing Scarlet hanging there like some female Christ figure, being punished for the sins of others as well as her own. She martyred herself to save Daisy. To save me. Just like she did at the mountain facility. She dived to stop me from shooting her sister, and in the process saved my worthless ass.

  “It should’ve been me,” I mumbled to no one.

  Don’t cry, Daddy. Please don’t cry.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart…”

  The phone vibrated on the bar, startling me slightly. Picking it up, I saw there was a text from the number that I’d just cut off. The text said:

  ETHAN, IT’S ERIC PIKE. WE NEED TO TALK. I HAVE INFORMATION REGARDING THE MURDER OF YOUR WIFE AND DAUGHTER. PLEASE CALL ME BACK SO WE CAN MEET.

  I stared at the phone for a long time before finally picking it up and texting back:

  THE BROKEDOWN PALACE. TAKE THE BACK ENTRANCE.

  I hadn’t seen nor spoke to Eric Pike since I left Blackstar ten years ago. We were friends once, or at least comrades in arms in the combat department of the company, even fighting alongside each other in the Secret War, spending weeks trying not to die as we and hundreds of other soldiers fought against an army of invading demons. Pike and I were about the only ones left standing after it all. Knightsbridge was so impressed, he asked me to be his head of security. When I turned him down, Pike took up the role instead. He was more suited to it than I would’ve been. He was sneaky, and more of a company man than I was. He also cared about impressing the boss, which I never did.

  In any case, I’d had no contact with Blackstar or any of its employees since leaving the place, so I was surprised to hear from Pike. I was even more surprised when he mentioned he had information on the murders of Angela and Callie. It made me wonder what his game was, or rather Knightsbridge’s game, for Pike didn’t make a move without Wendell’s say so. If he was coming to see me, he was coming to see me on Wendell’s behalf. The question was why.

  I was soon about to find out, for it didn’t take long for Pike to come walking into the dark club. The lights were at a minimum, just enough to see by. Pike cut an imposing figure as he walked across the bloodstained dance floor toward me. He was about my height with a muscular build, though he seemed smaller than he was back when I knew him. His hair was still blond and slicked, and in his expensive black suit, he looked more like a salesman than head of security. His mouth was wide, and when he smiled, his whiter than white teeth were prominent. He stopped by the edge of the dance floor for a second as he looked around. “You really know how to pick ’em, Ethan,” he said in his gravelly, Southern drawl. “What the hell happened here?”

  “I’m surprised you don’t know,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at him.

  “Well, we heard something went down, but we aren’t quite sure what. We weren’t surprised to hear that you were involved, though. You seem to be getting your hands dirty a lot these days.”

  “You know me, Eric,” I said, pouring myself another whiskey and lighting a cigarette. “I try to help those who can’t help themselves.”

  “Bullshit,” he said, coming to sit on the stool next to me, his bright blue eyes on me now. “This is me you’re talking to. You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you? Was being a cop not enough for you?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Eric.”

  “You’re sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong, Ethan.” He reached across the bar and found himself a shot glass, then filled it with whiskey from the bottle beside me. “Jonas Webb. What did he have to do with you?”

  “What did he have to do with you?” I shot back.

  “We were watching him to see what he’d do after his escape. Thanks to you, his little creation escaped as well. Now we have to hunt her down. What were you doing there, Ethan? Those were my men you killed on that mountain.”

  “Those guys were Blackstar?” I said, surprised. “Shit. If I’d known, I’d’ve shot them twice.”

  “Fuck you, Ethan.” He downed his whiskey and slammed the glass on the bar. “Wendell isn’t happy you interfered. Nor is he happy you called in an anonymous tip to the local Sheriff’s Department.”

  “Someone had to clean up.”

  “Yeah, us. Now we have to cover up your fucking mess and Webb’s.”

  “So what? It’s what you’re good at.”

  Pike shook his head at me. “Still the same asshole as always.”

  I lifted my glass and tipped it at him. “Right back at you.”

  Laughing now, Pike poured himself another shot, but let it sit on the bar as I downed another. “What are you drowning your sorrows about? What was that Hood woman to you?”

  Squeezing my glass tight, I said, “Forget it.”

  “Was she a friend of yours? I didn’t think you had friends.”

  “I said forget it.”

  “Fair enough. Anyway, that’s not why I’m here.”

  “You said you had information for me. Or was that just bullshit?”

  “No bullshit. Wendell asked me to look into things, so I did.”

  “Wendell? Why the fuck would he care?”

  “You made an impression on him. You know he valued your services. He’s not the ice-cold monster you make him out to be.”

  “So says his number two.”

  “Fuck you, Ethan. You’d still be a low-life hunter if Wendell didn’t take you in. He gave you skills and a purpose.”

  “His purpose, not mine. There’s a difference.”

  “See, that was always your problem, Ethan. You were never a team player.”

  “Don’t you mean a shill?”

  “You saying I’m a shill?”

  “Yep.”

  Pike stared at me, unamused. “Well, it beats being a lousy cop.”

  I laughed to myself. “At least I have my integrity.”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ,” he scoffed. “Don’t start with the famous Drake integrity routine. There’s no such fucking thing. We do what we do, and that’s it. Integrity has nothing to do with it. Fucking naïve bullshit.”

  In no mood for arguing with him, I said, “Alright, Eric, what did your blazing detective skills turn up then?”

  “More than your blazing detective skills did, it seems like.”

  “So out with it then.” I turned to face him as I took a drag on my cigarette, noticing for the first time that he had more lines in his face than I remembered.

  “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He made a face at me before picking up his shot and downing it in one, grimacing at the taste. “Given the evidence and the wounds on the body, I came to the same conclusion as you. That it must’ve been a werewolf who killed them. Solomon also corroborated this.”

  “You still talk to Solomon?”

  “Rarely,” he said. “Wendell still uses him for certain things. I fucking hate the guy, as you know. He creeps me out, especially now with all this necromancy bullshit. As if he wasn’t twisted enough.”

  “I can’t argue with you there,” I said, refilling my shot glass, putting the bottle back down after he declined another refill of his own glass. “He’s more twisted than ever.”

  “I’m surprised you have any dealings with him at all. You hated him as much as me.”

  “I know, but he comes in useful sometimes. It’s not like I hang out with the guy. Anyway, you were saying.”

  “Yeah, so I figured the wolf was probably a dog soldier and went from there, using company resources to try to track him down.”

  “And I take it you did? You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  He nodded. “It took me a while, but I found the bastard. Turns out he’s a careful motherfucker, but not careful enough.”

  I swallowed, my mind ablaze with the possibility of finally confronting the man who killed my angels. “So who the fuck is he? An
d more to the point, where can I find him?”

  “Not so fast there, killer,” he said. “There are conditions attached to this information.”

  I shook my head and sighed. “Isn’t there always? Wendell’s conditions?”

  “What do you think? He never gives anything away.”

  “Don’t I know it? What conditions?”

  “This case you’re working on, the one involving the pregnant girl, Clare Jenkins, and the cult she was a part of.”

  “What about it?”

  “You have to drop it.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Really? You’d rather pursue the cult than know the identity of your family’s killer?”

  I poured another shot and downed it straight away, turning to face the bar now. “Why are you so interested in this case?”

  “Because we are,” he said. “There are things happening in this city you don’t know about. You’ve been out of the loop for too long, Ethan.”

  “What things?” He said nothing as he merely stared at me. “Come on, Eric. If shit’s happening in my city, I have a right to know. You’re not the only one who has to shovel said shit.”

  “Are you going to drop the case?”

  “Clare Jenkins went missing from the hospital. Did you take her?”

  “No comment.”

  “She’s just a kid. An innocent kid.”

  “Like I said, no comment.”

  “You’re a fucking asshole.”

  “Takes one to know one. Are you going to drop the case or not? Because if not—” He went to get up. “I’ll just roll on outta here and take my information with me.”

  Asshole. Always squeezing people. He was Wendell’s man, alright. “Wait.”

  Pike paused as he stared at me for a second and then sat back down. “I’m glad you see sense. I mean, what’s more important than finding your little girl’s killer, right?”

  Once again, I squeezed my glass tight. “Just tell me what I need to know.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Once I have your word that you’ll drop the case.”

  I turned my head to look at him, hating how he held all the cards. At least for now. “You have my word.”

  He smiled. “Well alright then. The guy you’re after is one Derrick Savage. He’s a merc mostly, but he also does contract hits if the price is right. And I’m guessing in your family’s case, the price must’ve been right.”

  “No shit. Do you know who hired him?”

  “You’ll have to ask him that yourself.” He reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper and slid it across the bar to me. Picking it up, I saw the paper contained directions to a cabin in the Great Woods. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”

  “How did you find him?”

  “I told you, company resources. Not much gets by us, as you know. We asked around, greased the right palms, twisted the right arms…you know how it goes. We went to a lot of trouble for you, Ethan, on Wendell’s behalf.”

  “Why does he care? We didn’t exactly part on good terms.”

  Pike shrugged. “I guess he still has a soft spot for you. You were his number one operative. Hell, you should’ve had my job.”

  “Yeah, thank fuck for small mercies.”

  Laughing, Pike poured himself another drink. “One for the road,” he said, downing it before standing up. “I’ll leave you to your drinking, Ethan.”

  “Before you go,” I said, turning to face him. “You mentioned that shit was happening in the city. What shit?” Pike grimaced for a second as if he didn’t want to tell me anything. “Come on, Eric, it’s me. You can tell me.”

  “Alright,” he said after a moment’s deliberation. “I guess you’ll find out for yourself eventually. There seems to be a new power at play, one we haven’t figured out yet, but one which Wendell is very excited about.”

  “What power?”

  “Wendell calls it the Creation Rift,” he said. “It seems there are so many Fallen concentrated in this city now, that their combined celestial powers are…changing things.”

  “Like how?”

  “It’s more people than anything else. The Creation Rift is slowly awakening certain powers in certain people.”

  “Like supernatural powers?”

  “Yeah, kind of. Ordinary people are taking on the characteristics of figures from myths and legends. We call them Mytholites.”

  “Catchy. Did Wendell make that up?”

  “You know Wendell,” he said smiling. “And his flair for the dramatic. Anyway, these Mytholites, they’re starting to pop up everywhere. The other day we came across a guy who was robbing stores with a fucking bow and giving the money to the down at heel in Bricktown, much like Robin Hood. There’s also a woman out there who thinks she’s Medusa, with the power to turn people into stone. There’s another guy with the characteristics of Hades, though we know next to nothing about him. Another who thinks he’s Jack the Ripper and who’s currently on a killing spree. You get the idea. Your friend Scarlet was a Mytholite. She just didn’t know it. Most of them don’t, at least not yet. Many have powers, but they don’t understand where these powers came from, or why they have them. Many of them don’t know yet that they’re walking incarnations of figures from myth and legend. They’re individuals as well, you see. Their identities get mixed up with the identities of the character from myth they are taking on. Anyway, there’s still a lot we don’t know. Like I say, it’s a fairly recent development, as far as we’re aware anyway.”

  “Great,” I said. “So now I have fucking Mytholites to deal with as well as MURKs. And let me guess, Wendell wants to tap the potential of these Mytholites for his own gain, am I right?”

  Pike smiled. “Business is business, Ethan. That’ll never change.”

  “I guess not.”

  “Anyway, I got shit to do,” he said. “Remember our deal. Steer clear of the cult.” He smiled the smile of a salesman who’d just closed a deal. “And happy hunting.”

  When he left, I remained at the bar, poured myself another shot and sat staring at the piece of paper that Pike had given me.

  Derrick Savage, I thought. An appropriate name for a werewolf who didn’t mind slaughtering innocent women and children.

  “Motherfucker,” I growled, crumpling the paper in my hand, enclosing my fist tight around it. “I’m coming for you.”

  19

  I drank that much in The Brokedown Palace, and my body and mind was that drained, that I ended up falling asleep at the bar, waking up some hours later with a raging headache that even another dose of Mud couldn’t shift. When I finally stumbled outside, closing the door behind me again, it appeared to be somewhere around early evening. Not dark yet, but it was getting there.

  Down the alleyway, something rustled amongst discarded bags of trash, while above, something large flew silently overhead, casting a deep shadow over the Dodge for a second as it passed by.

  Standing there trying to breathe fresh air into my lungs, all I was doing was inhaling the stink of the city, which after a few breaths, turned my stomach and I bent over as I vomited over a dead, maggot-infested rat. Wiping my mouth and grimacing at the foul taste there, I staggered toward the car and got inside, resting my head against the seat for a few moments as I fought not to fall asleep again.

  Which I would’ve done had my phone not buzzed me awake. Holding it up, I saw it was Hannah. This time I answered. “Hey,” I said, my voice dry and gravelly.

  “I’ve been trying to call you,” Hannah said. “Are you okay?”

  “Not really.”

  “Did something happen?”

  I stared out the window for a second before answering. “Scarlet’s dead.”

  Hannah went silent for a long moment before asking, “What happened?” in a quiet voice.

  I shook my head as if I hardly knew myself. “Things went bad.”

  “I’m sorry, Ethan. Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine. Where are you?”

  “I
’m at the precinct.”

  “Doing what?”

  “It’s nothing,” she said like she didn’t want to tell me.

  “Hannah. What’s going on?”

  “Clare Jenkins’ body was discovered a little while ago,” she said. “She was found floating in the river. Too early to tell if it was suicide or murder.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “I’m handling it, though. You should probably take some time, get your—”

  “I don’t need time. I’ll be there shortly.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I just said so, didn’t I? Don’t ask me again.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you when you get here then.”

  When she hung up the phone, I stared at myself in the rear-view mirror. I looked like shit, and I still had Scarlet’s blood all over me. As I couldn’t go into the precinct looking like I did, I started the car and headed to my apartment to get changed and freshen up.

  When I got there, Daisy was sitting out on the landing, a book in her hand. As soon as she saw me, she put the book down and stood up, about to come to me until she saw all the blood on my shirt and coat.

  “Ethan,” she said. “What happened? Where’s Scarlet? She said she would meet you. Where is she?”

  Sighing inwardly, I thought, Christ, this will be hard.

  “Ethan?” Daisy was staring at me, a look of worry on her face now, her dark eyes already filling with tears as she no doubt sensed that something bad had happened to Scarlet.

  I went over to her and crouched down, putting my hands on her shoulders as I looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry, Daisy,” I began. “But—”

  “No,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks now. “Don’t say it.”

  Tears welled up in my own eyes as I stared at her. “There was nothing I could do, sweetheart.”

  Her face crumpled then as the tears increased, and she threw her arms around me as she bawled into my shoulder. All I could do was hold her as the tears ran down my cheeks, so many thoughts and emotions going through me I hardly knew what to do. It wasn’t just Scarlet I was thinking about, or Daisy, but also Callie and the grief I felt the night I’d found her. It was all coming back to the surface as I gritted my teeth against the tide of emotion that threatened to overwhelm me.