Night Call (Book 3): Rock Paper Sorcery

by Hayward, L. J.

  A little confused, Dev nodded. “He did run.”

  “Well, don’t do anything else, okay.” With a weary sigh, she turned to Dev. “They got a pretty good description of you, too, Dev. Sorry.”

  Dev looked from one to the other. “Sorry?”

  “Your first day in country and you’re already in cahoots with a ‘known person’,” Erin explained apologetically.

  “You’re a known person?” Dev faced Hawkins.

  “Courey’s out to get me,” he declared.

  “Just don’t give him any reason to come get you,” Erin said.

  Slouching back in his chair, Hawkins said, “He doesn’t need a reason.”

  “You should steer clear of Tanqueray all the same.”

  “It wasn’t like I went there looking for him. Which reminds me, do you have any headache drugs?”

  Erin scrounged up some pills from her handbag and handed them over. Hawkins devoured four of them with a big gulp of coffee.

  “So, what’s special about this girl?” she asked.

  “What girl?”

  “The one with the monkey,” Erin said patiently.

  “Why should there be something special about her?”

  Even to Dev, Hawkins sounded cagey.

  Eyeing him shrewdly, Erin said, “I know you. There’s something about her you find interesting.”

  “I should think the fact she’s being abused by that tool Chop enough to make me be interested.”

  “Ah.” Erin sat back in her chair, nodding.

  “‘Ah’, what?” he demanded.

  “‘Ah’, you’re going to be her knight in shining armour, again, ‘ah’.”

  “Again? What?”

  “You have a history of rushing in to save the damsel.”

  “I do not.”

  “You do too. There’s Mercy. And Amaya. And, let’s be honest, Rufus, too.”

  “Like anyone would have let Rufus be tortured by a demon.”

  “You went to Hell to get him back!”

  “Yeah, but he’s not a damsel.”

  Erin visibly pulled herself back from the growing argument. “Look, just think before you go rushing in this time.”

  Hawkins, too, settled back. “I’m not going to go rushing in. Besides, it’s not like Chop is a vampire or a demon.”

  The expression on Erin’s face went bleak. “And that makes it any less dangerous? I spent years dealing with his kind of person. He’s young, but don’t underestimate him, or the control he might have over any of those kids in that group. Especially her.”

  Dev found himself nodding along. He blinked back the image of Lana, bruised and bloody, standing beside Friedrich, against Dev.

  “Fine.” Hawkins shifted in his chair, like he was trying not to run away. “I won’t do anything, unless I have too. I’ll just track them down. If I find them, what do you want me to do?”

  “Let me know where they are. We’ll decide what to do next then.” That decided, Erin turned to Dev. “How’s your search going?”

  “It’s progressing,” he hedged. “We have another place to check out, then I’ll have to think about what to do next.”

  “I’ll help with whatever I can,” she offered.

  Dev smiled. “That’d be much appreciated.”

  Beside him, Hawkins stabbed a piece of meat with unnecessary force. “Actually, Erin, could you do us a favour? Unless you have other plans tonight, of course.”

  “Let’s hear it first,” she said, very warily. “If it involves ghouls, I think I might be busy.”

  “Um, well…”

  Erin closed her eyes. “Really?”

  “It’d save time. If I’m kicking Mercy’s arse into gear tonight, I’ll be too busy to take Dev to see Kermit.”

  “Kermit?” Dev asked mildly.

  “He’s a ghoul,” Erin said with a shudder.

  “He’s not that bad.” Hawkins couldn’t get it out with a straight face. “Honestly, Dev, for a stinking, lying, marrow-sucking snitch, he’s not too bad.”

  “All ghouls are bad,” Dev said.

  “I didn’t say he was good,” Hawkins reasoned. “Just not too bad. If anyone here has a chance of knowing where your psycho sorcerer might be, it’s him. I’d take you now, but he’s not keen on getting up in the day for anything less than an earthquake or the next episode of ‘Game of Thrones’.”

  Ghouls were about as high on Dev’s appreciation list as fire-wolves and infomercials. Yet, Hawkins hadn’t led him too far astray, so there might be some use in seeing this Kermit.

  “So, Erin? If I’m working your job, could you perhaps…?” Hawkins tried again.

  Erin eyed him narrowly, then nodded. “Fine. But I’m not driving him anywhere. The ghoul, that is, not the sorcerer.”

  “You won’t have to. Just meet him at the cemetery.” Standing, Hawkins stretched. “If you’re done with us for now, we should get going.”

  Waving them out, Erin said, “Drop him back here after six. I’ll be ready to go around then.”

  They seemed done talking about him, so Dev got up and straightened his sport coat, preparing to leave. In the process, he once again saw his t-shirt.

  “Do you think we could stop long enough for me to change my shirt?”

  Hawkins snorted. “Yeah, I think we could. Might stop any more confrontations.”

  Dev said goodbye to Erin, who sent them off with a small smile, then turned back to her work.

  Outside at the truck, Hawkins opened the back and Dev pulled out his suitcase. Spinning the combination, he went to open it. It didn’t budge.

  “What’s the problem?” Hawkins asked when Dev tried again with the same results.

  “Shoot. Think I picked up the wrong bag.”

  “Shoot all right. Did you have anything, um, sensitive in yours?”

  “Just my change of clothes, few burn dressings. Passport and wallets are here.” He patted his butt.

  “Well, the burn dressings we are good for.” Hawkins leaned into the back of the truck and rummaged through the crates. “As for clothes, I can’t promise anything tasteful, but definitely less incriminating.”

  His words proved prophetic when the only t-shirt amongst the merchandise that fit him was for something called ‘5 Seeds’ cider. It had a picture of what were either two bearded ladies or men in drag on it.

  “Suits you,” Hawkins snickered when Dev put it on.

  “Yeah, this shouldn’t provoke any fights.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll warn you before we walk into any biker bars.”

  “Appreciated.”

  They made it to the self-storage place in good time and thanks to Hawkins’ vision, had the PIN to give them entrance to the facility.

  “We’re after unit 226,” Hawkins said.

  Unit 226 was toward the back of the large building, their footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. Yellow roller-doors lined the corridors, each with a number-pad.

  “What do you hope to find here?” Hawkins asked as they walked.

  “The spell.”

  “Ha ha. All right, what do you expect to find?”

  “Honestly, nothing. If the earth sorcerer’s been and gone, then he has the spell. At the most, I can hope he left something behind I can use to trace him.”

  “More sorcery?”

  “That, or a receipt from a car rental agency, or for a hotel.”

  Hawkins’ expression was a strange mixture of disappointment and excitement. “Real investigating, right.”

  When they reached the unit, Hawkins tapped in the PIN and the door groaned upwards. The light from the corridor seeped into the storage space. It was dim and crowded, filing cabinets along both walls, an antique armoire at the far end. Between the walls were piles of plastic crates and boxes.

  “There’s a safe in here somewhere,” Hawkins said, stepping in.

  “The place doesn’t look as if it’s been tossed.”

  “Maybe we got here first.”

  Dev di
dn’t bother answering that. Hawkins’ tone said he didn’t believe it either.

  Hawkins headed straight for the armoire, stepping over boxes. Dev opened the first filing cabinet on the right. Alphabetised files. Dev picked one at random.

  Acharya, Jaidev. A djinn master from India. The file had his personal details, a thorough report on his movements and pages upon pages of information on his works with his djinn.

  The next file was similar. They all were. Dossiers on thousands of supernatural powers all across the world. If he looked far enough, Dev would probably find one on himself. Perhaps one on Hawkins, as well. If he’d been alone, he would looked for them. To destroy his and read Hawkins’.

  “What is all this stuff?” Hawkins muttered as he tripped over a box.

  “The sum total of the Belascos’ work, I’d say. Information, magical objects, jewels, money. Whatever they could use to buy power from the demons.”

  “Great. The evil eBay warehouse.”

  “Are you sensing anythin’?”

  Hawkins sneezed. “A few flaring allergies and some really big spiders, but that’s about it. You?”

  “A few traces, nothin’ overt. I don’t believe any tricks were pulled here.” There were hints of the earth sorcerer but they weren’t enough to warrant worry.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Hawkins muttered, crouching in front of the armoire.

  Dev frowned at him. What he thought? Even as a strong psychic Hawkins shouldn’t be able to sense sorcery. Only those with the potential could sense it, and creatures of the Old World.

  “Found the safe,” he announced, opening one of the doors on the armoire. “It’s tucked away in here. Just a small fire safe.”

  “Can you open it?” Dev began picking his way toward the back of the unit.

  “Got the combo from the vision, so yeah. Let me just open this…” He grunted and wrenched open the other door.

  With a startled yelp, Hawkins disappeared under a small avalanche of black objects. They tumbled out of the other side of the armoire, each about the size of a small dog.

  “Hawkins!” Dev shoved his way through the boxes.

  A hand appeared out of the pile. “I’m okay. They’re just stuffed animals, I think.”

  The vibration of the earth sorcerer’s power kicked up several notches, set off by some delayed-action trigger.

  “I don’t think—”

  Squeak.

  Chapter 20

  Hawkins burst out of the mass of black fur, yelling incoherently. All around him, the stuffed animals began to squirm and wiggle and… squeak.

  “Holy fucking shit!” Scrambling backwards, Hawkins hit the filing cabinets on the left side of the unit. “They’re moving!”

  “The sorcerer left me another warning,” Dev said.

  “Tell me something I don’t know!”

  The pile before the armoire rippled outward and the jumble of bodies began to resolve into individuals.

  Rats.

  Big, big rats.

  With a wordless cry, Hawkins got to his feet, fumbling his way over stacks of boxes.

  “They’re the size of horses!” He sounded close to panic.

  “No, more like a cat.”

  The rats twisted and scrabbled against each other, the rising chorus of squeaks and squeals matched by the scrape of claws on the cement floor.

  Hawkins made it to Dev’s side, panting and wild eyed. From the back of his pants he pulled a large handgun. He took aim.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Dev grabbed his arm and tried to get the gun off him.

  “What does it fucking look like?” Hawkins was strong, twisting his arm out of Dev’s hold. His grip on the gun shifted, though, and it took him precious seconds to readjust it.

  Dev grabbed it while Hawkins was distracted. He triggered the nitrogen trick. The gun barrel frosted over.

  “Shoot and you’ll shatter your gun,” he said.

  Hawkins glared at him. “Why the fuck did you do that? There’s rats!”

  “You can’t go shooting—”

  The stack of boxes in front of them toppled over, pushed by a heaving flood of rats. The massive rodents tumbled toward them, teeth flashing, eyes burning in the dim light. More of them scurried between the clutter, wide bodies shoving boxes three times their size out of the way far too easily.

  The sorcery working was thick in the air now, vibrating against Dev’s skin. Hawkins was brushing at his arms, either sensing the sorcery or remembering the feel of the creatures all over him. Which were charging toward them, tumbling over each other in their haste, teeth gnashing the air.

  His useless gun in hand, Hawkins backed up rapidly, head flashing from side to side, trying keep them all in view. The rats were on top of the filing cabinets, now, with clear runs to the door. Their claws clicked over the thin metal in a shiver-inducing staccato.

  Dev retreated, hands raised. “Upepo wa dhoruba.”

  Two blasts of wind shot from his glowing hands, catching the rats heading right for them. Smaller than the fire-wolves, the rats were completely caught up in the gale, rolling backwards. Some even went airborne as they bumped over those behind. The wind howled in the tight confines of the storage unit. It hit the back wall and bellowed back toward Dev and Hawkins. With a flick of one hand, Dev redirected the blast of air toward one side. It slammed into the filing cabinets to the left, sending rats flying.

  Which might not have been a good idea.

  Some went toward the back of the unit. Others sprang forward.

  With a wordless shout, Hawkins held up his left hand and an invisible wave of power shot from him. It caught the animals in mid-air and slammed them back into the cabinets. They hit with such force the small bodies—relatively—dinted the drawers before being squashed. Bones snapped and blood gushed from orifices top and bottom.

  Well, hell.

  “Dev!”

  Dev spun in time to see several of the giant rodents launch themselves at him from the other row of cabinets.

  “Kufungia!”

  He caught three of the monsters in the blast of ice, encasing them in snap frozen moisture drawn out of the air. They dropped and cracked against the hard floor. Two more of them landed on Dev, one on his shoulder, the other clinging to his chest with long, sharp claws.

  Dev reeled backwards, flailing at the rats. He shoved at the one on his chest and grasped desperately for the one on his shoulders. It snapped and snarled right in his ear, its feet digging into his jacket. The one on his chest thrashed a long, grossly thick tail, slapping at his ribs hard enough to bruise. It lunged upward at his face, tearing long rents in his new t-shirt as it climbed higher. The breath off it was foul, full of decay and putrescence. Black, beady eyes were fever bright and the heat of the body was almost enough to be uncomfortable.

  Like the fire-wolves, these abominations had started as regular animals, and then they’d been ensorcelled. Friedrich had set his wolves on fire, controlled to such an extent it didn’t kill the animals, just slowly ate away at their bodies, sending them mad in the process. This earth sorcerer had forced these rats to grow unnaturally large, a process that if done quickly, as had undoubtedly happened here, would kill the animals sooner rather than later. They were rotting from the inside out.

  They were only rats, but the sheer cruelty of the sorcerer seemed to know no bounds.

  Dev got his hands on both rats, ignoring the danger from teeth and claws for the time it took to trigger the nitrogen trick. Both rats froze and the thrashing of his body broke them into pieces. Shaking off the clinging, thawing claws, Dev spun and checked on Hawkins.

  He was holding most of them back with blasts of telekinesis, sending them tumbling backwards, crushing them against the walls where he could. But even as he watched, Dev noticed the blasts weakening. Hawkins had his gun—no longer frozen—under his left arm and was screwing a suppressor on with his right while continuing to direct his telekinesis with the left.

  “We gotta g
et outa here,” Dev shouted over the hissing mass of rodents.

  “No joke?” There was still a touch of hysteria in Hawkins’ voice. He got the suppressor on and grabbed the gun, spinning it across his palm so the grip settled into it. “Behind you!”

  Twisting around, Dev had his hands raised and the wind triggered in time to catch two more hurling rats. Three more launched from the top of a stack of boxes, aimed at groin height. Dev shifted one hand, caught two of them and one sailed right past him as he twisted again.

  “Now would be good!” Hawkins backed up. He wasn’t using his psychic powers any more, kicking at charging rats, but they were crowding around him in a rapidly spreading flood of black and brown fur.

  Dev blasted away another rat flying off the cabinets over Hawkins’ head. “Right. I’ll hold them back, you get the door.”

  “It’s a plan.”

  “When I say, get the hell out.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. Just took his attention away from the swarming creatures and held his hands out to either side.

  “Now!”

  Hawkins hopped backwards, taking several of the rats with him. The varmints were clinging to his jeans. He kicked at more which tried to follow but at least a dozen got out with him. They’d clean them up later.

  “Upepo wa dhoruba.”

  The gale force winds lanced outward, hit either wall and blew back toward Dev. He swept his arms across his body, drawing the wind with them. The resultant cross winds was like a jet engine at full throttle. Rats went spinning through the air, tossed like twigs in a storm. Dust kicked up, swirling in thickening clouds. Papers from the busted drawers of the cabinets joined it, tearing apart under the conflicting forces.

  “Dev!” Hawkins bellowed through the hurricane of noise.

  The one good thing about his sorcery, Dev wasn’t affected by it. He stepped out of the turmoil and nodded to Hawkins.

  The Australian slapped the close button on the key-pad. The door began its agonisingly slow descent.

  No longer in the middle of his wind storm, Dev had imperfect control of it, the wind trying to work off the directions of his hands. It gusted out into the corridor, trying to follow him. Hands up, he redirected it inside, having to sink with the door, to stop it rebounding off the yellow roller-door. At ground level, he cut off the wind a touch too soon and a couple of rats slithered through into the corridor.