Smoke Show (Tess Skye Book 2)

by D. N. Erikson

  “Get out.” Ryan removes his blazer and rolls up his sleeves. The gun at his waist glints in the moonlight.

  I stiffly swing my legs over the pavement. It takes all my focus to avoid shattering my femurs as I step down from the SUV. Walking feels like bouncing over potholes without shock absorbers. Each step is a trial in sheer willpower. But I manage to limp into what looks like a courtyard.

  My ruined brain finally identifies the geography. This is the new condo development that opened a few years ago. Ragnarok Acres. My vision is fuzzy courtesy of Delia’s frost-damaged retinas, but I can barely make out a couple at the center of the courtyard, standing by a spindly tree not yet old enough to strike an imposing presence.

  I stumble as a memory fires. Delia’s house—where she died—isn’t far from here.

  Ryan helps keep me standing. I lean against him, breathing heavily.

  The man and woman gasp as I stagger closer.

  Ryan whispers in my ear, “Say anything, and they both perish, Miss Skye.”

  I swallow any urge to sound the alarm, and instead conjure up the best smile I can muster given my frozen lips and the unsavory circumstances.

  The woman, for her part, appears rightfully shocked. She’s older, but still looking sharp thanks to a good hairdresser and some choice plastic surgery.

  She stares past me, at Hex, and says, “Is it really true?”

  “Your daughter, alive and in the flesh.” Hex windmills his arms like a magician revealing his greatest trick.

  “Delia!” Mrs. Wolfheart can contain herself no longer and rushes forward.

  Hex steps between us and holds up his hands to press pause on the happy reunion. “The money, if you will.”

  “But if I can just see our Delia…”

  “In due time, as we agreed.”

  Sobs—of joy, of sheer disbelief, of a thousand indescribable emotions—drift above the courtyard. Her husband seems either stunned into silence or completely indifferent regarding his daughter’s miraculous reawakening from the dead.

  Meanwhile, anxiety seeps like a blackened oil slick through my stomach lining.

  Anxiety about what Ryan and Hex will do after getting the money.

  Anxiety about what will befall Delia’s parents.

  Anxiety about my own role in this whole sordid production, however involuntary it might be.

  Finally, Delia’s mother gathers herself and gazes deep into my eyes, as if trying to ascertain whether I’m truly her daughter. My cold chest tightens as I watch relief wash over her features, knowing that it’s all based on a lie. “Can she speak?”

  “She can indeed,” Hex says.

  Ryan nudges me with his shoulder and I say in a tight voice, “Hello.”

  Mrs. Wolfheart’s eyes grow wide. “Delia, honey. You’re safe now.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “Aleks,” Mrs. Wolfheart says to her husband with a hurried, almost frantic, wave, “get the funds from the car.”

  He disappears into the tree-lined street to retrieve whatever cash they agreed upon for Delia’s “revival.” Delia’s mother continues to stare at me. I finally avert my gaze. Ryan Jameson’s gun beckons, shimmering in the moonlight just an arm’s length away.

  It feels like a veil lifting from my thoughts. They’ve been addled since I had that whiskey back at the Red Whale.

  But now, I’m clear-headed. And I won’t be a pawn on someone else’s chessboard.

  I lunge for Ryan’s pistol and wrest it from its holster.

  He wheels around.

  Tries to hit me with a wild swinging right.

  I aim at his chin and squeeze the trigger. His head snaps back and he buckles into the grass.

  Mrs. Wolfheart screams.

  “It’s okay,” I say in a hushed voice. Even though everything is far from it.

  I keep the gun trained on Ryan. He doesn’t move. But being Immortal, who knows how long one’s death lasts. Days? Weeks? Seconds?

  It’s one of those unknowable mysteries. Just like how deep the rabbit hole of my own abilities goes, it’s something I’ll only learn from experience.

  And I don’t want to be caught off guard.

  Hex Davis starts running toward the SUV, trying to flee.

  I fire a shot at his feet and he jumps.

  “Not so fast,” I say.

  “Delia, honey, please…”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not your daughter.” I turn toward Mrs. Wolfheart and look her square in the eye. “She’s dead.”

  Tears stream down her cheeks. “Don’t say that…”

  “These assholes were trying to scam you.” I jab the gun toward Hex. “The only question, then, is why.”

  There’s a long silence.

  “That wasn’t rhetorical.” I fire another shot at the ground between his expensive shoes.

  Hex’s eyes flit about in the darkness, frantically searching for an escape. It’s funny seeing him like this—cutthroat businessman, lauded for his ruthless deal-making prowess. Then again, most people aren’t too brave when they’re on the wrong end of a gun.

  When Hex realizes I’m serious, the last remaining bit of fight goes out of him. He slumps and directs his words toward the grass, refusing to look at anyone. “I needed the goddamn money.”

  “You’re worth millions.”

  “Was,” Hex says. “I’ve spent it all searching for Emmy.” His shoulders slump further. “On false ransoms, on investigators, on oracles.” He drops to his knees. “On everything.”

  Despite the sob story, I’m torn between the urge to shoot him now or shoot him in the near future, given the solution he settled upon to solve his problem.

  My internal debate is interrupted by the return of Aleks Wolfheart, who comes bearing two duffel bags. He looks startled when I swing the pistol toward him.

  I lower it when I realize who it is.

  “Delia?” he asks.

  “I’m not your daughter,” I say.

  “Okay.” Aleks seems to accept that without further explanation, perhaps never having actually believed it in the first place.

  “How much were you going to pay Hex?”

  Aleks says, “Ten million.”

  I shake my head and glance back at Hex. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?”

  Hex says, “You don’t understand what it’s like not to know.”

  “Just give me your damn phone.” Time to clean this mess up and get some backup out here.

  Hex fumbles with his pockets and finally manages to toss his phone over to me. Catching it feels like trying to use one of those stuffed animal claw machines to grab it out of the air, but somehow I manage not to drop it.

  I dial Javy Diaz’s number from memory.

  He answers on the second ring with, “Hello?”

  “It’s Tess,” I say.

  “Tess?” Javy is clearly puzzled. “You sound different.”

  “Long story,” I say. “Which is going to be part of an even longer conversation.”

  “Is it really you?”

  I say, “You came through Dom Rillo’s window to save me a couple weeks ago.”

  “Okay,” Javy says, now convinced I am really me, “What’s going on?”

  “Just bring your ass out to Ragnarok Acres.” I stare at my blue fingertips. They’ve warmed up slightly, but this body is still liable to crumble like a house of cards at any moment. “And grab Finn, too.”

  A groan interrupts the conversation. My head snaps back to Ryan’s corpse.

  Except his body is gone. Only an outline remains, like someone burned its imprint into the frayed grass.

  I pull the phone down slowly and lock eyes with Delia’s mother. “Where the hell did he go?”

  Neither Mrs. Wolfheart nor her husband have words for what’s just transpired, however. I don’t blame them. Seeing their daughter’s reanimated body controlled by someone else and then watching a dead guy disappear into thin air would be a lot for one lifetime.

 
All within five minutes?

  Yeah, that’s gonna nuke a few neural circuits.

  I turn to Hex Davis. “You see anything?”

  His hands tremble as he shakes his head no.

  The phone chatters, and I put it on speaker.

  “Hello?” Javy says. “What’s going on?”

  “A dead body just disappeared into thin air.”

  “Describe it.” Javy sounds almost breathless, which is odd given his normally calm demeanor.

  “There’s basically a silhouette in the grass where he died,” I say. “Almost like a chalk outline.”

  Javy’s voice is unwavering and resolute. “You need to leave. Now.”

  “Why’s that?” I can’t tell if that’s me speaking, or my personality clashing with Delia’s. There’s always a battle between myself and the host. And I don’t always win.

  But I’m pissed at him, too. He’s the one who told this jackass Ryan Jameson about me. So right now, it’s a toss-up between whether it’s the body or me feeling standoffish.

  “Fucking hell, Tess,” Javy says. “He’s a—”

  The phone slips from my grasp as thick fingers wrap around my throat.

  Hex’s deep voice floods my ears. “You should have heeded Javier’s words, Miss Skye.”

  I gasp and twist, trying to turn the gun on him, but it’s no use. Hex has the size advantage. Even if he didn’t, Delia’s body is about as strong as a bunch of soggy bagels superglued together.

  With ease, he disarms me and tosses the pistol away.

  He spins me around so that we’re nose-to-nose. It’s still Hex, but his demeanor has changed.

  I rasp out, “What…what are you?”

  “You may learn my name soon enough.” He laughs in my face, saliva spewing from his lips. “I would have preferred to remain hidden a little longer. But I did not expect you to shoot my previous vessel in the head. Well done.”

  Then he kicks my legs out. My tailbone smashes against the ground. Hex grabs me by the hair and starts dragging me through the grass, toward the SUV.

  Mrs. Wolfheart sobs and pleads. “Please. My daughter…”

  “Your daughter is nothing but a candle extinguished in the night,” Hex says. “Worry about her no more.”

  If Mrs. Wolfheart’s shrieks are any indication, she doesn’t plan to heed this particular advice.

  We’re at the edge of the courtyard’s yellowed grass when high beams flick on.

  Hex relaxes his grip on my hair to shield his eyes.

  I jerk free and start running—or wobbling—which is about the best I can do in this body.

  The car’s engine revs before it bursts forward and clips Hex in the knee. The impact sends him pirouetting to the ground.

  Then I hear Finn yell, “Get in, Tess!”

  Six

  After a brief stop to pick up the Wolfhearts—who, in their shellshocked state, are easy to shepherd, along with their money, into Finn’s back seat without argument—we roar off the courtyard grass and away from Ragnarok Acres.

  Finn glances in his side mirror every few seconds, not braking even as the light in front of us remains red. We zoom through the intersection going north of eighty.

  After another minute, he finally exhales and then gives me the once over.

  “Christ, Tess,” he says. “You look like shit.”

  “Thanks, buddy.” Then my brow furrows in suspicion. “How did you know where I was?”

  Or who, for that matter.

  Finn adjusts his cowlick and squints in the rearview at our two passengers. “You want to talk about this now?”

  I wave off his concern. “They’ve already seen everything.”

  “But it’s not exactly wise—”

  “Since when have you been a paragon of wisdom?” I ball my stiff fingers up into something approximating a fist. “So about finding me.”

  “We’re bound together.” Finn makes a hard right, blowing straight through another stoplight. Mrs. Wolfheart squeals in the back seat, clinging to the arm rest for dear life. “On the same anima frequency.”

  “So you know where I am all the time.” We really should have sat down and worked out the logistics of our magical connection at some point during the past couple weeks.

  But, you know. Work. General busy-ness.

  All that noise.

  “Not exactly,” he says.

  “Then what?”

  “When you Soulwalk…your senses cross with mine. Your experiences mingle with my own. I can feel your presence.” He sweeps his hair away from his eyes in a way that has undoubtedly seen many girls falling all over themselves.

  Not me.

  “You sensed that I was in this body.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you followed me.”

  “You could lose yourself without me.” He looks genuinely concerned. “It’s possible you were close already.”

  “I’m fine.” I crack my neck, which feels like overtightening a rusty bolt. “We need to talk about boundaries.”

  “Or you could just say thank you, Tess.”

  Maybe it’s this body.

  Maybe it’s the weirdness of meeting Ryan—or Hex, or whatever that thing’s name actually is.

  Maybe it’s Javy fucking me over.

  But I’m not in a grateful mood.

  Finn is right, though. I do owe him for tonight. So in an only slightly sarcastic voice I say, “Thanks for saving my ass.”

  “See. That wasn’t that hard.”

  I point toward the empty road sprawling out ahead. “Just drive, man.”

  And we spend the rest of the ride back to downtown Ragnarok in silence.

  Seven

  When we return to the Red Whale, Delia’s parents remain in a state of silent disbelief. I don’t think her father has said ten words the whole night.

  I retrieve Ella from the truck. She’s momentarily confused by my current form, but quickly realizes what’s going on when I pat her on the head and say hi. I’ve only been gone an hour, so the water and the evening breeze have kept her cool.

  Then it’s into the club to wrap this shitshow of a night up.

  First order of business: dragging this rickety bag of frozen bones up to Hex’s office and returning to my own body. That’s a painless affair, despite the lack of on-site Navigator when the Soulwalk began. After a minute, I’m sitting against a stool in my own body, feeling slightly dizzy but overall no worse for wear.

  Delia’s lifeless form slumps over, like a deflated balloon letting out its last bit of air.

  Finn asks, “Are you okay?”

  I shake out my wrists. “I’ve had worse Soulwalks.”

  “Anything else we need to grab while we’re here?”

  I scan the red-lit office. “Anything related to Emmy Davis and her disappearance.”

  Finn nods and then snaps his fingers at Ella. The husky bounds along behind him as they scour the rest of the massive penthouse office for clues.

  I could let this all go. But having that creature running loose around Ragnarok in Hex’s body seems like a bad idea.

  So it looks like a new case has fallen into my lap. One that pays about as poorly as saving the town from a billionaire, no less. But some things aren’t about the money. And starting with Emmy’s disappearance seems like the quickest way to discover what this creature’s endgame is. Because one thing seemed clear tonight: it really wanted to track down Emmy.

  So finding her is the quickest way to find the creature—and put it in the ground.

  When I stand up, it feels like I’ve traded in a rusted-out jalopy for the shiniest sports car on the lot. All my joints and tendons function exactly as they should.

  It’s easy to take the little things for granted. That old saying about traveling a mile in other people’s shoes comes to mind. Most people don’t get to literally experience it.

  But I do. And it gives me a bit of perspective.

  Like appreciating the ability to walk without my bones feeling
like they’re grinding into dust.

  A thunderously deep voice startles me as I’m stretching my arms.

  “So Delia is truly gone.” It’s Aleks Wolfheart.

  I turn to face him. He’s standing by the bar. While not a large man, he speaks with a commanding presence. I nod and say, “I’m afraid so.”

  “And the creature that possessed Hex?”

  “I don’t know what he—it—is.” I look Aleks dead in the eye. “But I intend to find out.”

  “Do you think he will come for us again?”

  “I can’t be sure,” I say. “But I doubt it.” After all, whatever took control of Ryan—and now has moved into Hex—seemed to have erased all that was left of their personalities and consciousness. So the creature would have little concern regarding Hex’s quarrels with the Wolfhearts.

  Not like they had wronged him anyway. Hex was the one trying to commit fraud here.

  “And what’s your involvement in all this?”

  “Hex asked me to help find Emmy,” I say. “I wouldn’t have come if I’d known that he wanted to use my…abilities to rip off you and your wife.”

  Aleks nods, mulling my words over. “Perhaps we can hire you to continue what you’ve already started, then.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Wolfheart, but I can’t bring your daughter back.” Not sure my exact reason for the formalities, but being respectful seems appropriate given the hellish night he’s endured.

  “No, you cannot.” Aleks looks sadly at his daughter’s pale body lying on the floor. “But you can find who or what did this to Delia and Emmy.” He offers me his hand. “And that will have to be good enough.”

  It’s kind of hard to turn him down. I almost feel like I owe the Wolfhearts one after the shit they’ve seen tonight. Not that it was my fault—I got played just as bad, if not worse—but saying no on top of everything would just be cruel.

  And this does fit my newly implemented case acceptance criteria: doing decent things for decent people. Besides, it dovetails with finding the creature—the proverbial two birds, one stone.