Hell Bent

by Devon Monk

  “Where do you stand on this, Shame?”

  “Whatever Terric just said, I’m probably against it, but am too lazy to do anything about it. So, what do we know about Eli?”

  “We got a call from Davy,” Dash said. “He thinks Eli is working out of one of the hospitals in the area.”

  “As a doctor?” The implications of that made my skin crawl. “Ew.”

  “He didn’t say,” Dash said. “But he found this.” He walked over and handed me a printout of names.

  “It’s a printout of names,” I said.

  “Right,” Clyde said. “The first twenty-five on that list have hit the missing persons reports. Three of them have shown up dead in Forest Park.”

  “Davy thinks Eli is . . . smuggling people out to Forest Park and killing them?” I guessed.

  “He thinks it’s connected,” Clyde said. “Said there’s security footage of him being in the waiting room while one of the people on the list was there too.”

  “Doctors see lots of people. Lots of patients in waiting rooms,” I said.

  “You know what all those people on that list of names have in common, Flynn?” Clyde asked.

  “They’re on this list?” I held up the paper.

  “They were all hospitalized for tainted magic poisoning three years ago during the battle to heal magic.”

  I looked at the paper. Tried to follow the logic of how that linked up with Eli. “Uh . . . buy a vowel?”

  “Davy thinks Eli’s using those people who carried tainted magic as experiments,” Clyde said. “That he’s been picking them out, running tests on them, and then killing them and dumping their bodies.”

  “Two things,” I said. “One: Davy does not trust Eli, has good reason not to. Two: Davy considers Eli a monster who likes to carve magic into people to screw with them just like he screwed with Davy. And two-part-two: Collins the Cutter is not that sloppy. If Eli wanted to do tests on someone and not get caught, we’d never find the bodies.”

  Terric nodded. “So do you think he wants us to know he’s killing these people? To . . . lead us to him?”

  “Are any of the victims altered in any way?” I asked.

  “You mean with glyphs?” Dash asked.

  “Or any other way.”

  “Not that we found,” Clyde answered.

  “Well, there were the tattoos,” Dash said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Tattoos. Each of them had a tattoo somewhere on his or her body.”

  “What kind of tattoos?” Terric asked. “Roses, hearts, serpents?”

  “Glyphs.”

  Clyde hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Lots of people have tattoos of spells now. Especially since magic has changed. There’s a bullcrap myth that if you get a tattoo of a certain kind of spell, that spell will be stronger when you cast it.”

  “I’m guessing there’s a lot of fertility inks out there,” I said.

  He nodded.

  “Do you have a list of them, Dash?” Terric asked.

  “Fertility spells?” Dash asked, a little startled.

  I laughed. “The look on your face! Priceless!”

  “No,” Terric said, giving me a scorching glance, “the tattoos on the missing people.”

  “That, I have,” Dash said. “Shut up, Shame. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” Then, to Terric, “Give me a sec.”

  “Thanks,” Terric said.

  Dash smiled like the sun had just decided to shine on him.

  I watched Dash walk off and considered Terric. He had no idea. Zero clue that Mr. Dashiell Spade liked him.

  So dense. I wondered if I should give Terric a hint about his secret admirer.

  “If it is Eli,” Terric said, back to business before I had a chance to put my thoughts together, “why did he choose those twenty-five out of all those people on the list?”

  Clyde shrugged. “Convenience and availability?”

  “Naw,” I said. “Eli doesn’t mind doing things the hard way if it means he gets it his way. There’s a reason he picked these specific people. What do we have? Fifteen men, ten women?”

  “Yes,” Terric said.

  “Do you have files on these people?” I asked. “Photos, medical history, addresses?”

  “Yes.” Dash walked back into the room. “We do.” He placed twenty-five files, folded open, across the desk closest to Terric.

  “Perfect,” Terric said as he leaned down to look at the files. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Dashiell.”

  Dash smiled, and shot me a warning look.

  I just blinked innocently.

  “Which are still alive?” Terric asked.

  Dash pulled away three folders. I noted, with a twinge of anger, one was the ten-year-old girl.

  “And what are the tattoos?” Terric asked.

  Dash pointed a finger at files with each word his spoke. “Refresh. Enhance. Light. Light. Ground. Impact. Combust. Refresh.”

  “Strange collection of spells,” I said. “I can understand Enhance and Refresh. But Ground and Light? Who uses light spells so much they want that tattooed on their body? Ground isn’t even needed anymore. Magic doesn’t ever get so out of control that it needs to be Grounded.”

  “Some people just get a tat because they like the look of it,” Dash said. “Even when they don’t know what it means.”

  “Okay,” I said, “so that’s one explanation. But if Eli is a part of this, a part of the tattoos, then they are in no way random.”

  “Can you put the people in the order of when they went missing?” Terric asked.

  “Yep.” Dash moved the files, lining them up in order.

  “And the tattoos?” he asked.

  “Light, Ground, Light, Refresh, Enhance, Impact. Combust, Refresh.”

  “That’s a better setup,” Clyde said. “Cast Light, maybe it doesn’t work, so Ground to keep magic stable, then cast Light again. Maybe it fades too quickly, so you’d need Refresh, then Enhance to make it more focused and then Impact. Combust? Light doesn’t lend to that, Fire does, but okay. And Refresh to keep that strong. Not sure what that can be used for other than knocking the crap out of something or someone.”

  “These are tattoos,” Dash said. “Not actual spells. It could be coincidence. You could be seeing order where there really isn’t any.”

  “When did they get the tattoos?” Terric asked.

  Dash thumbed through the files. “Um . . . other than this older man, Walter, all of the tattoos were fresh ink.”

  “How fresh?” I asked.

  Dash looked back a couple pages in the file. “On the dead? Coroner said very fresh. Maybe a few weeks or a month at the most.”

  “So there’s a chance they were tattooed in preparation for being taken,” Clyde said.

  Terric nodded. “They’ve each been missing for more than a few months, but they weren’t all kidnapped on the same day. They were kidnapped weeks, sometimes months apart.”

  “Clyde’s theory is starting to look promising,” I said.

  “But they’re tattoos,” Dash insisted. “Magic won’t fill a tattoo. It fills a glyph.”

  “We don’t think Eli is using magic like normal people,” I said.

  “How else can he use magic?”

  “He can break it,” Terric said. “He has a Soul Complement. She’s been in a mental institution. Went missing from there. We think he knows where she is. And we know he wants us to rescue her before he kills again.”

  Clyde went silent, rolling through just exactly what that all meant.

  Exactly what it all meant was that Eli was a weapon now. Potentially just as powerful as Terric and me, or any other matched set.

  “So, where is she?” Dash asked.

  “We don’t know,” I said.

  “And we don’t know where Eli is, other than his possible connection to a hospital,” Dash said.

  “Yes,” I said. “But he has technology—probably triggered by magic—that lets him open up h
oles in space and walk into any room he wants to.”

  “Which is how he got to Allie and Zay,” Clyde said.

  “Yes.”

  Clyde took off his baseball hat and rubbed his fingers through his thick black hair. “That, boys,” he said gravely, “is a situation.”

  Chapter 21

  We ordered in lunch. Terric and Clyde eventually went into the closed-off office to talk about responsible Authority things. Which was what Terric and I had planned.

  That left me and Dash to dig into old Authority files on Thomas Leeds. I was hoping something in there would give me a little inside information on Dessa.

  Not a lot on Thomas I could use. An old photo of him, looked like it was taken in a sports bar with friends. I didn’t see much of the family resemblance, except maybe around the eyes and forehead. Otherwise, he looked like a guy you’d expect to be running a small but useful business of some sort, who spent his weekends watching football.

  All of the addresses on his file were in the Seattle area, the phone was disconnected, and when it came down to the list of family and friends, the file had been wiped.

  Thanks, Victor.

  Bored, I went outside to smoke and pace. Hadn’t even gotten a puff off my cigarette before I heard a voice behind me.

  “Four sugars, four creams?” Dessa said.

  I grinned, turned.

  She had on jeans, a white collared blouse, and a short black jacket. No purse, shoes she could run in without breaking bones. She also had a cup of coffee in each hand.

  “Dessa,” I said. “How did you know it was time for my coffee break?”

  “I bugged the office.” She smiled, held the coffee out for me.

  “That kind of behavior will get you in trouble,” I said.

  “Bugging your office?”

  “Ex-office and no, telling me about it. And I prefer six sugars and six creams, thank you.” I took the cup.

  “I know.” She reached into her pocket and handed me extra sugars and cream.

  “Why are you here?” I popped the cup lid, stuck a thumbnail in the creams, poured, and tore sugar packets with my teeth. Didn’t bother to stir. I liked a sweet kick at the end.

  “You make it sound like I want something.”

  “Because you do.”

  She took a drink of her own coffee. “Yes, I do.”

  “Good,” I said. “Let’s hear it.”

  “I want you to take me to whoever is in charge of the Authority.”

  “So they can tell you who killed your brother.”

  “Am I that predictable?”

  “Not at all. As a matter of fact, I think you already know who killed your brother. And you know why he did it.”

  Everything about her stilled, tensed. If she had a gun smuggled somewhere on her body, all signals pointed to her pulling it.

  “Who told you that?” Her voice had gone from playful to dead serious.

  “Do you know a woman named Brandy Scott?”

  Her brows tucked down, folding a line between them. “The name sounds familiar. But I’m not placing it. Should I know her?”

  “Thomas’s killer thinks you should.”

  “You talked to his killer?” That drunk ’em and trunk ’em look flashed in her eyes.

  “We heard from him.”

  “You know giving me a name—Brandy Scott—is enough to lead me to him.”

  “Might be if you can find the connection. That’s not how I want this to play out.”

  “How you want it? You had your chance, Shame. I asked you to help me, remember? You said you didn’t want to get involved. So I don’t see why you should have a say in what I do or don’t do with this information.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of having a say. I want to make you a deal. You help me find Brandy Scott and I will cut you in on all the info we have on the killer.”

  She hesitated. It was a tempting offer. “I’m supposed to believe you’ll do that?”

  “I’m not a man who makes a habit of lying.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Okay. Yes, fine. But this is the truth.”

  She drank coffee, thought about it. Then, with regret, “You’re still holding all the cards, Shame. And I know you don’t really want me involved and you’ll find a way to go around me. Sorry. I need to do this on my own.”

  I don’t know why, but I hadn’t expected that. “Really? We had pizza together. I thought we had a certain something.”

  She pressed her lips together and nodded. “We did. We do. It’s why I’ve changed my mind. I started this alone. I think it needs to stay that way. Then whatever we have . . . or don’t have, we can figure that out on its own terms.”

  “Dessa.” I reached over and touched her arm, but I could see that she had made up her mind. I pulled my hand away. “Be careful.”

  “I’ll let you know how things turn out.”

  “Unless we find her first.”

  That got a smile out of her. “I suppose that could happen. Did you look into that thing with Jeremy Wilson yet?”

  “We spoke.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “Not yet.”

  “But what I said about him was correct? That he’s a part of the Black Crane and using Terric?”

  “Yes.” I knew the point she was making. She’d held up her end of the deal, and she wanted me to hold up mine.

  “So, please don’t follow me,” she said. “Please don’t come after me. Good luck, Shame.” She turned and walked down the street, dropping her barely touched coffee in the nearest garbage bin.

  Eleanor had been leaning against the building. I glanced over at her and she shook her head. She mouthed, Stupid.

  “She’d have found out anyway,” I said. “She bugged the office. I’m sure she’s bugged my room by now too. This way I’ll know what lead she’s following and I can follow her. I’m going to put a Hound on her.”

  Eleanor rolled her fingers outward and shrugged in an obvious “why?” pose.

  “I don’t want her hurt in the cross fire.”

  She cupped her fingers together to make a heart shape, and raised one eyebrow. I turned my back on her.

  “Not listening.”

  I pulled out Terric’s phone I’d nicked and called Zayvion.

  “Hello?” Allie’s voice, not Zay.

  “Hey, Al. Where’s the man?”

  “Sleeping. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just wanted to check in on you two. What did the doctor say?”

  “That he’s lucky the knife missed his lung. It’s going to hurt for a while, and they gave him antibiotics, but he’s going to be fine.”

  The relief in her voice was an almost tangible thing.

  “And you? Honest, now, love. How are you?”

  “Shaken. I’m okay now, but when he came in the door, Shame . . .” She paused.

  I lit another cigarette, ignored Eleanor, who had come around to stick her tongue out at me.

  “When he came in the door,” she went on, “I froze. I’ve never frozen in my life. All I could think was I was going to lose the baby.”

  “You did fine. Just fine. And the baby’s okay, right?”

  “Yes,” she said quietly.

  “So it’s all good. Just like it should be. Is Stone there with you?”

  “He showed up after the police left. He’s next to me right now. Hasn’t left my side. And Nola’s here too. With her shotgun.”

  I had to grin at that. You could take the girl out of the country, but you couldn’t take the country out of the girl.

  “So you don’t need anything?” I asked. “Anything I can bring you?”

  “No. We’re good. I’m good. Thanks, Shame. For being here earlier. When we needed you.”

  “Wouldn’t be anywhere else. Say, Allie, did you know Thomas Leeds?”

  “I don’t think so. Was he a Hound?”

  “No. Closer. I don’t suppose you knew a Dessa Leeds?”

  “My memory’s pretty sketch
y, but neither of those names rings any bells. Why? What do you want them for?”

  “They’re tied to Eli. I’m looking for someone to follow Dessa. You got any spare Hounds I could borrow?”

  “I don’t really do that anymore. You could talk to Davy.”

  “Can’t find Davy.”

  “Then check in with Sunny. She’ll know where he is.”

  “I thought Sunny was in Florida or something. Visiting family?”

  “Maybe,” she said. “I don’t remember Davy mentioning anything, but I haven’t seen him since last week.”

  “Maybe I’ll stop by the Den, see who’s running things while she’s gone and he’s wherever he is.”

  “That’s a good idea. And, Shame, I’m really sorry you lost your job. And that you had to . . . that you and Terric had to break magic for us. Because we couldn’t. Because I couldn’t.”

  “Allie, those are not your worries. It is what it is. And it worked out fine. We used magic together and I didn’t have a single moment of wanting to snog him.”

  That got a short laugh out of her. “He wouldn’t have argued.”

  “He would have had a coronary.”

  Terric stepped out of the building. Spotted me. “Speaking of, I’ve got to go now. I’ll try to come by soon. Stay in touch.”

  “Be careful, Shame.”

  “What, and ruin my streak?”

  I thumbed the phone off and held it out for Terric.

  “You really have to get your own phone,” he said, taking it from me.

  We started toward the car.

  “I have a phone. It’s at the inn. In my room. With my clothes. And my coat. And my boots. All of which I’d love to have, but you won’t take me there.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll take you there. Did you and Dash find anything?”

  “Not a clue. Checked on Al and Zay. He’s fine, she’s fine. She doesn’t know anything about Thomas or Dessa.”

  “What about going to a bar?” he suggested. “Dessa picked you up at a bar last night. Picked you up the night before, come to think of it. You might run into her there.”

  “Not without my coat. My good coat.”

  “Two-year-olds have more patience than you.” He slid into the driver’s seat.

  “That’s because two-year-olds have coats,” I said, getting in the other side. “Also, I saw Dessa. She doesn’t know who Brandy Scott is, but now she’s looking for her.”