Night Call (Book 3): Rock Paper Sorcery

by Hayward, L. J.

  “You okay?” Hawkins asked again, silhouetted by the dancing flames and shuddering plant.

  “Fine,” Dev snapped. His body was shaking, both in shock and revived memories. Goddamnit! He didn’t need this, not here, not now. It was in the past. Friedrich was dead. His flames couldn’t hurt Dev anymore.

  “All right.” Though Hawkins didn’t sound as if he believed him. “We have to get out of here. You okay to run?”

  “You can’t run away,” a strident voice announced.

  Tahlia. Dev had all but forgotten her. She stood several yards back, hands on hips, glaring at them both.

  “You burned a tree in the botanic gardens,” she said sternly. “You’ll have to pay for it.”

  Hawkins grinned at her, a slightly mad sheen to his eyes. “You threw the bottles. You going to tell them that?”

  Made aware of her own culpability, she shut her mouth fast. She was ready to rabbit, though, worried gaze shifting from them, to the burning tree, to where, in the distance, shouts were starting to erupt. Hawkins, too, looked from her, to the nearing trouble and then to Dev, his expression one of reluctant resignation.

  Crouching in front of the girl, Hawkins said, “Stand still for a moment, we have to talk.”

  Amazingly, she obeyed, focusing on Hawkins with singular intensity. Then Dev felt something, a slight push against his active power. Not sorcery, not magic, but something forceful and supernatural.

  “Listen to me,” Hawkins said to Tahlia, his voice lower and thicker than normal. “You’re going to go back to your class and find your teacher. Tell them you saw two teenage boys in hoodies burn the tree. You didn’t see their faces and they ran away before they saw you. That’s all you know.”

  Tahlia watched him, enthralled, eyes glazed over. She nodded numbly.

  Hawkins pressed the heel of his palm to her forehead and the air tightened for a moment as the compulsion was set on Tahlia.

  Standing, Hawkins motioned to Dev. “We should go before she wakes up and sees us.”

  Dev nodded numbly. Such thorough mind control was the province of mostly Old World creatures, especially vampires. Few human had ever had the ability to so completely enchant someone.

  As if seeing the thoughts in Dev’s head, Hawkins frowned at him, then shrugged and jogged away. Still trying to catch his breath, Dev stared after him for a moment, then back at the blankly staring girl. She blinked slowly. It was all the encouragement he needed. Dev followed Hawkins before Tahlia woke up and pointed the finger.

  Hawkins left the main path, heading down the slope, toward the stream. Dev kept pace, his legs longer but shakier. He couldn’t help but jump at every movement in the trees around them, wondering if the earth sorcerer’s trap extended past the obvious. They worked their way across the middle of the rainforest. Behind them, teachers called for order amongst their charges while park staff tried to direct them away from the chaos.

  They scrambled across the shallow waterway and up the far side, finding the main path as it looped back around. Hawkins held up a hand for silence, head tilted as he listened. Sure enough, a moment later they heard Tahlia racing away, calling for her teacher. Satisfied, Hawkins set off again.

  Their escape route brought them out of the rainforest area at the base of the gardens, near the entrance. Across the road was the car park. Further up the road, a couple of four-wheeler bikes with water tanks charged toward the rising column of smoke. All attention seemed to be focused on the other side of the rainforest, so Dev and Hawkins simply strolled across the road and back to where they’d parked the truck. Despite the ease of their getaway, Dev still felt as if he’d woken up with a rattler in his sleeping-bag.

  He shouldn’t be this shaky. Sure, the fig had got the drop on him, but he was certain he would have found a way out of it eventually. He had a few tricks not triggered by speech. Given a moment to think, he’d have broken free on his own. But Hawkins had rushed in, thinking Dev couldn’t fend for himself. The Australian didn’t know him, barely knew anything worthwhile about anything to do with the world of the supernatural. Had used a machine gun instead of a sniper rifle and now there was a big, public consequence.

  Dev curled his arms in close to his chest. They throbbed with pain. He tried not to think of Friedrich’s maddened growls as he clutched at Dev’s arms, both desperate and angry.

  “You okay?” Hawkins asked again as they neared the truck.

  “I’m fine.”

  Eyebrow cocked, Hawkins motioned to his arms with a nod of his head. “You sure? I am a trained paramedic. I can take a look at that if you want.”

  “Warrior, psychic and paramedic?” Dev couldn’t keep the snap from his tone. “What the hell else are you?”

  Nonplussed, Hawkins held his hands up in surrender. “Nothing else. Sorry I bothered to care.” He half turned away to get in the truck, then stopped. “If you’re hurt, though…”

  Growling, Dev wondered what he was doing here. Friedrich was dead, the contract finished. But, finally seeing the man who’d held him captive die hadn’t been the end he’d thought it would be. The spell Friedrich had stolen by torture might now be in the possession of a powerful earth sorcerer and Dev didn’t care. It was his spell. He would get it back.

  And Aurum had said this man could help him.

  Gingerly, Dev shrugged out of his sport coat, revealing the bandages around both forearms. “All right.”

  Hawkins grunted and opened the back door of the truck. Rummaging in there for a moment, he eventually pulled out a large metal case.

  “I make my friends all carry good first aid kits,” he said by way of an explanation. “Thankfully, we don’t need them that often, but when we do, we’re grateful for them.”

  They opened up the back of the truck and Dev sat beside a crate of bourbon bottles—from which two were missing—while Hawkins fussed with the first aid kit.

  “What happened?” he asked, a professional tone to the words as he began unwinding the bandages around Dev’s right forearm.

  “Got burned,” Dev said as the burn dressing was revealed.

  Gently, Hawkins lifted it away. He winced at the red, bubbled skin. “Second degree burns. What caused them?”

  Just grateful he didn’t say anything about the hand-like shape of the burns, Dev muttered, “A fire sorcerer.”

  “Yeah? Bastard.”

  Dev shrugged. “He’s dead now.”

  “You?”

  “I finished the process. He was already well on his way when I found him.” Lying on the floor of his bedroom, the lower half of his body flayed of every inch of skin. Left to die slowly and painfully, gibbering insanely when he saw Dev looming over him.

  Hawkins contemplated him steadily. All of the humour they’d shared on the ride over was gone, like rain sucked into parched soil, as if it had never been. There was instead a silent wondering in his eyes, as if he couldn’t quite work out what he felt about Dev’s admission. Then he shook it off and turned his attention back to Dev’s arm.

  Sterilising his hands with an alcohol rub, Hawkins applied a layer of burn cream and a new dressing. He rewound the bandage, which had been protected by the sleeves of Dev’s coat, then repeated it with his other arm. Hawkins found a couple of ibuprofen in the kit and offered them with a bottle of water.

  “Thank you,” Dev said when he’d swallowed them down.

  “I’d say my pleasure but that might be construed as sadistic.”

  They tidied up the back of the truck, then got in.

  “I’m sorry about before,” Dev said as Hawkins steered them toward the exit. “I didn’t mean to snap. I was just angry. I should never have been caught like that. Amateur mistake.”

  Hawkins was quiet for a while, then snorted. “No worries, mate. Remind me to tell you about the time I let a ghoul drag me down into its lair. Now that was amateur.”

  Chapter 13

  Erin didn’t get a chance to process the advent of Randy Devantier when she got back to the office.
Mr Thistlethwaite, owner of Centenary Park Zoo, was waiting outside the door when she stepped out of the elevator.

  He was pushing seventy and thickening around the waist but still spritely, with a full head of salt and pepper hair, sideburns that reached his moustache but not his chin and a tendency to wear plaid dress shirts and jeans. He carried an old leather satchel slung across his body from which he produced everything from reading glasses to his preferred brand of teabag.

  “Good morning, Ms McRea,” he said as she approached. “How are you on this fine morning?”

  “Well, Mr Thistlethwaite,” she said, smiling. “And you?”

  “Oh, very well. I was up early and went for a nice long walk. Had a lovely cup of coffee and a croissant at a nice little bistro, sitting out in the sun. It’s a beautiful day for it.”

  He was a lovely gentleman but given half a chance, would detour any conversation along several different paths, usually long and detailed reminiscences about past animals in the zoo or the people he’d come to know over the years, always politely asking Erin if she knew any of the random names he dropped. To date, she hadn’t yet answered yes.

  “That it is,” Erin agreed, unlocking the door and going in, holding it open for her client. “I’m sorry to say it might not stay that way. I don’t have very good news, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh?”

  When they were seated, Erin quickly and gently told him about Sean’s death. She watched him for any adverse reaction, anything that might indicate he’d known about it beforehand. All she saw was shock and confusion and, finally, sorrow.

  “I know I felt he was involved in the theft of the squirrel monkeys,” he said softly, “but I didn’t think he was a bad person. I believe he’d had a troubled past. He came to the zoo as part of a work project sponsored by Lifeline. The monkeys are worth quite a lot of money. I thought perhaps he needed the money for something.” Thistlethwaite shook his head sadly. “Poor Sean certainly didn’t deserve to die.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Erin murmured. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “I need to know if you wish to continue the investigation or not. He was your only suspect and he died before he could tell us who else was involved in the theft. It’s highly probable his killer is that person. I don’t have to tell you finding a murderer is much harder, and much more dangerous, than following a known suspect.”

  Thistlethwaite nodded. “Yes, yes, I understand, and if you’re still willing, I’d like to proceed with the investigation. I’m sure the police will work tirelessly to find Sean’s killer, but I doubt they’ll place much importance on retrieving the monkeys. To that end…” He opened his satchel and flicked through the contents for a moment. Taking out a large envelope, he slid it through his fingers for a moment before speaking again. “I’ve brought you photos of the monkeys, in case you actually find some and need to confirm they’re mine.” He handed over the packet.

  Erin opened it and took out several sheets of glossy photos. They were all of squirrel monkeys, tiny things no longer than a metre, with black crowns, black-tipped tails, tawny fur in between and white, skull’s-head faces. Supposedly the pictures were all of different ones, but she couldn’t tell them apart. Stopping on one with its head twisted upside down and a cheeky grin, she had to smile at the cute little face.

  “Oh, that’s Moloko,” her client said, also smiling. “He’s one of my favourites. Such a little firecracker. Loves to talk.” He trailed off, face creasing with concern and loss.

  Erin had never been big on pets. Her work life had always felt too hectic to provide the proper care and attention and William was allergic to cats, anyway. Still, she sympathised with Thistlethwaite’s distress at losing the monkeys. It was clear that despite the fact he had a whole zoo full of animals, he cared for all of them deeply.

  With a sigh, Erin said, “I’ll keep looking for them, Mr Thistlethwaite. Hopefully, the police will find who killed Sean and they will lead us to the monkeys.” Then she did something she never let herself do. “Don’t worry. We’ll find them.”

  He nodded and smiled. “Thank you. Of course, I’ll pay whatever expenses come up.”

  Straightening the photos, Erin was about to talk contracts when she thought of something else. Grabbing her phone, she pulled up the images she’d taken of the monkey statue.

  “I know it’s incomplete and broken, but would you be able to tell me what sort of monkey this might have been?” She handed over her phone.

  Thistlethwaite frowned at the images, mouth working through several musings. “I wouldn’t be prepared to stake anything more than a cup of coffee on it, but if the scale is correct, it might well be a squirrel monkey.”

  Eyebrows shooting upward, Erin took the phone back and compared the picture of the broken statue with those of the stolen monkeys. He was right. There was a striking resemblance.

  “Shit,” she whispered, then apologised to her client for her language. He waved it aside, assuring her he heard, and spoke, worse.

  “Does it mean something significant?” he asked.

  Only that Sean was killed by a statue monkey of the same species he stole. Which was odd enough she didn’t want to explain.

  “It might,” she hedged, then distracted him with a request for personnel files on all zoo employees and a promise she would probably want to interview everyone.

  Thistlethwaite agreed and she ushered him out.

  Alone again, Erin looked between the broken statue and the picture of Moloko, not liking the connection. It was too specific to be anything other than freaky.

  God. She was seeing the weird and whacky everywhere these days.

  How much of it was actually real or just coincidence? Why did it have to be something crazy? Maybe she’d been spending too much time with Matt and Mercy lately. Seeing goblins and ghosts where there were only rats and open windows.

  But what if it wasn’t a coincidence?

  Like Sol calling and telling her to look out for Randy Devantier, and then running across the man the very next day. And somehow it wasn’t all that surprising to find him in Matt Hawkins’ company.

  Suddenly happy Ivan wasn’t there to know anything about it, Erin opened up the file she’d started on Dev, adding in today’s intelligence.

  A sorcerer.

  Jesus, what other kinds of oddities were out there, just waiting to jump out and surprise her? She’d thought demons had been at the limit of her credibility meter but now there were sorcerers. It was almost enough to make her regret letting Matthew Hawkins into her world.

  Except that now she knew about these things. Or some of them, at least. There was no unknowing, no ignoring it. She’d tried that once and a demon had blasted that conceit out of the water. These mythological creatures were all around her and if she wanted to have any hope of dealing with them, she needed Matt to help her make sense of it all. And it wasn’t just her. Everyone in the city needed him to keep the monsters lurking in the dark at bay.

  And right now, he was playing escort to a man her boss had called to warn her about.

  Did Sol know what Dev was? Did he know about sorcerers and vampires and Primals? A couple of months back she would have said no. Now? Now, Erin worried anything was possible. Sol had pushed her to take on Veilchen. He hadn’t questioned how the case had ended. He’d said his interest in Dev was personal.

  Was it a coincidence, or was Sol more than the owner of an international investigation company?

  Erin didn’t want to think what it meant if it was the later. The urge to quit was back in full force, as it hadn’t been in a long while. Run, her instincts said, get away as fast as she could. Forget it all and go somewhere they won’t be able to find her and William. Except Sol probably would be able to find them anywhere, and if she quit, she wouldn’t have access to the resources needed to discover just who Dev was. Or Angelo Sol.

  Either way, Sol wasn’t going to know Dev had shown up in Brisbane until she knew more about this sorcerer.

  Under the gu
ise of simply wanting to know more about this person Sol asked them to look out for, she sent off emails to the American branches of Sol Investigations, not really expecting anything back. Then she closed up the office and went to the State Library.

  Erin loved the library. It was majestic and peaceful, and while the internet was often a Godsend to her investigations, nothing beat the library for solid facts. Matt often referred to Kermit the ghoul as his reference section, but the fact remained, it had been Erin’s research at the library that had revealed the Demon Lord Asmodeus’ plans to install himself as god-king of their world. She just hoped it would be as helpful today. Even if she wasn’t heading into the reference section.

  Instead, she used the library’s free wireless access and began a real investigation into Randy Devantier.

  By the time two hours were up, she didn’t have much more than the bare facts. A Randy Devantier and his sister, Lana, had been orphaned in Houston twenty-two years ago, then adopted by a family friend. At the age of seventeen, Randy had a track and field scholarship to the University of Texas in Houston. He completed a degree in history and then vanished off the public records. His sister disappeared even earlier, with no record of her graduating high school and definitely no higher education credits.

  She had even less information about sorcery. Oh, there were thousands of different sites proclaiming sorcery was real and each one of them purported a different means and mechanism. None of it jumped out at Erin as more likely than anything else, and not knowing anything about Dev’s supposed abilities, she had no basis to judge.

  Still, she fired off several queries to contacts she’d developed over the years outside of Sol’s network. They were all excellent investigators she felt she could trust and hoped at least one of them would have some luck.

  Leaving the library, she checked her phone, finding a couple of calls she’d missed while it was on silent. Both were from Courey.

  “Hi,” she said when he answered. “What’s up?”