Yes, yes I should. I should also have never taught her to ride. There are so many things we come to regret once the results are back.
We made it to New Farm and stopped outside of the Belascos’ apartment building in record time. I showed Mercy where the monkey had been and she spent a while sniffing around.
“Got it,” she announced. Her nose screwed up. “It stinks.”
To be fair to the monkey, any scent Mercy wasn’t familiar with ‘stank’. When I changed cologne she told me for weeks I stank, then she got used to it and when I didn’t wear it, I, once again, stank.
Mercy handed back her helmet. “Be easier if I’m on foot.”
“Right. Just keep to the speed limit, okay? I have to keep up and I can’t track you on the phone while riding.”
Eyes sheened in silver, Mercy nodded and took off. She moved at a sprint and I kicked the bike into gear, following.
Around the corner, Mercy hesitated, then bounced off between two houses. “The monkey went this way. Some of the kids went a different way.”
“Follow the monkey.” I will admit I felt a trifle stupid saying it. At least it wasn’t aloud. “Let me know where you come out.”
I got an affirmative little zig down the internal line.
Cruising down the street I waited for Mercy’s next ping. It came not long later, directing me a couple of streets over.
And so we hunted.
I had to give the Tool Brigade points for distance. We traced them from New Farm through Fortitude Valley and to Queen Street. For the most part, they kept to the bicycle trails, following the bank of the river as it wound its way through the city. What their destination was, I have no clue, because they wandered around Queen Street, the scent trail layering over itself so many times Mercy couldn’t unravel it. Eventually, she found a single path leading out of the mess. They went into the mall, then down George Street and to the city Botanic Gardens.
Mercy lost the scent at the bus stop.
I pulled the bike up and took off my helmet. Mercy came over, frowning.
“The monkey got on the bus,” she said, deadly serious.
Carefully I hid a smile at the thought of the monkey waving a ‘go card’ and taking a seat on a bus.
I wondered where Feeble hid it while on the bus. Walking on the street with a monkey on your shoulder was one thing. Being tolerated on a public transport was another.
“Maybe we could roam around a bit,” I thought aloud. “See if you pick up the trail by chance.”
Mercy nodded, then said, “Or I could follow the other kids’ trail.”
I eyed her patiently. “Yes, or you could do that.”
“They went that way.” She pointed back into the park. “You’re not allowed in there with the bike. I’ll let you know where it goes.”
And with that, she took off again.
And I waited.
Chapter 24
Erin drove a white BMW and she drove it in a much saner way than Hawkins had the big truck. Dev felt quite safe as she took them to this Dutton Park Cemetery. At least, as safe as he could feel with a proven mad sorcerer in the city.
As the night time city bled past the windows of the car in shades of bright white, yellow and red, he considered contacting the Council. Chasing someone down on a personal vendetta was one thing and none of the Council’s business. Theodore Aurum’s call to Hawkins had been a favour, nothing professional. But this was different now. The sorcerer had shown a keen sense of the gruesome at Friedrich’s, but because there had already been a contract out on the fire sorcerer, the Council had no need to want his killer brought in. As far as they were concerned, the job was done and they didn’t have to fork out money for it.
So, Dev had come to Australia on his own. No contract, no back up, no official channel to the Council. Just Aurum’s good word about Matt Hawkins, which might actually be proving correct. Not that he should doubt Aurum’s credibility, just that when the Gold Primal did something, it usually went further than apparent at first. Putting Dev into touch with Hawkins had, at first, felt pointless. Dev believed he could be forgiven for thinking there was something beyond the immediate in Aurum’s actions. Now, with Hawkins actually being a help, he wondered if that was all Aurum had intended.
Either way, Hawkins wasn’t the point for Dev. He had come here for his spell, first and foremost.
That, however, might not be so true anymore.
The earth sorcerer had gone too far. His mind had become so warped by the number of spells imprinted on it he was becoming unstable. An unstable sorcerer was a dangerous one, and that was in the Council’s purview.
He should call the Council. Tell Aurum and have him send a team.
“So,” Erin said, “apart from being chased by football stars, being attacked by ROUSs and experiencing Matt’s driving, how are you liking Australia?”
Dev didn’t think she’d appreciate hearing an honest answer, so he went with a frown and, “ROUSs?”
She gave him a horrified look. “You don’t know ROUSs?”
“I pretty much know every type of Old World critter and I’ve never heard of them. Are they something unique to Australia, like kangaroos or koala bears?”
“Firstly, they’re just koalas, not koala bears, and secondly, really? You don’t know ROUSs?”
He held his hands up in surrender.
“The Princess Bride? The fire swamp? Rodents of unusual size? This means nothing to you?”
“Sorry. Is it a… book?”
“Yes, and a movie. Both are great.”
“I’ll be sure to check it out.”
Her eyes narrowed as she turned them off the freeway. “I know a lie when I hear one.”
Dev chuckled. “Honestly, I don’t have much time for reading or movies.” At least, not lately. He’d spent those weeks in hospital poring over every inch of information the Council had on Friedrich, planning his revenge.
“Do you work somewhere? Like Matt does, helping people with their weird problems?”
“Not exactly like Hawkins, but similar, I guess. I usually contract with the Council, doing jobs for them. Chasing down whatever’s overstepped their bounds and hauling them in for punishment or death.”
“So, you’re a bounty hunter.”
“In a sense.” He frowned at her. “Isn’t that what you do?”
Erin laughed, though it was a dry one. “Me? No. I help Matt occasionally, and he helps me sometimes, but that’s it. My usual cases are just back ground checks, chasing down cheating spouses, finding lost will benefactors, that sort of stuff. Boring old PI work.”
Dev let that go by. If she wanted to be cagey about it, he didn’t mind. She wasn’t why he was here, either.
“Do you know many ghouls?” she asked as they wound through narrow side streets, past older houses spaced out on a series of rolling ups and downs.
“Unfortunately.”
“Right,” she said wholeheartedly. “Still, Kermit seems okay. And here we are.”
They slowed and rolled by the cemetery. A brick wall surrounded the grounds, a wrought iron gate across the entrance.
“The gates are locked,” Dev pointed out.
“We can get in around the side.”
Contrary to the wall and gates at the top of the cemetery, the sides were open and Erin parked a short distance away. She brought a flashlight and led the way. As they moved between the listing headstones, she pulled out her phone.
Dev looked around while she made her call.
It was an old cemetery, the age of the earth seeping up through his bones with a weighty sense. The headstones were weathered and cracked, some broken and lying across the graves they marked. Trees grew out of some of the plots. A breeze of cool air wafted in off the river, which was at the base of the cemetery. The trees shushed gently, the area protected by the surrounding hills so it was eerily quiet. A shiver rolled down Dev’s spine.
Under the age of the earth, he felt the definite presence of a ghoul. The
foul threads of its subterranean burrowing twisted through the natural flow of energy, concentrating around the small grove of trees Erin was aiming for.
“Kermit,” she was saying into the phone. “It’s Erin McRea, Matt Hawkins’ friend. Answer your phone.” She waited. “Come on, Kermit. Matt sent me here. Answer!”
“The ghoul has a phone?” Dev gaped at her.
“Yeah. Matt got it for him. Said it was easier than knocking, whatever that means.” Erin hung up with a sigh. “Maybe we’re going to find out. This way.”
In the grove, there was a single grave marked by a stone cross.
“Patrick Kenniff,” Erin told him. “The last bush ranger. Outlaw,” she clarified for him. “He was hanged at Boggo Road prison, along with about forty others, all buried here.”
Dev’s lips turned down in distaste. “No wonder the ghoul lives here.”
“Yeah,” a rasping voice said from behind them. “Because it’s tasty.”
Erin spun as Dev did. She had a gun up so fast Dev didn’t even see her draw it. Dev’s hands were ready, even though the thought of another trick made his brain cringe.
A ghoul peeled itself out of the shadows of the trees. It had a stick and picked its teeth with it. Looking them both over, it disregarded Dev with a curled lip of disgust, then turned to Erin.
“Wench.”
“Foul beast,” she returned, but put her gun away in an underarm holster. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
The ghoul spread its arms, displaying a tall, skinny body nude of hair and clothes. “No pockets. It’s in the lair.”
Carefully not looking further south than its plug-ugly face, Erin asked, “Why are you naked?”
“Went for a swim. To cool off.” It jammed a thumb in Dev’s direction. “What’s this thing doing here?”
Dev sneered. “Good question.” To Erin, he said, “I really don’t think this creature can help me. They’re known liars and betrayers.”
“Oh, oh, oh,” the ghoul, presumably Kermit, cut Erin off. “Like sorcerers are any better. You’re a bunch of amoral, self-righteous, fuck-hole slavers!”
Erin gaped. “Kermit, where did you learn that word?”
“Amoral?” Dev questioned at the same time Kermit asked, “Fuck-hole?”
The ghoul flipped Dev off, then said to Erin, “From the Night Caller.”
Shaking her head, Erin muttered, “Trust Matt.”
“Why bring this prick here?” Kermit asked again.
“Matt asked me to. He thought you might be able to help him.”
Dev snorted at the same time Kermit did.
He really should have protested coming, but after getting so close that afternoon and losing the rogue, he’d thought anything might be useful. Now, here, smelling the putrid rot coming off the repulsive creature, he was willing to admit he was wrong.
“The Night Caller’s learning,” Kermit said, stalking around the edge of the clearing, “but he doesn’t know everything. So here’s his next lesson. Please deliver it post haste. Ghouls and sorcerers do not work together. They don’t help each other. They don’t even like breathing the same air. So, piss off.”
Dev leaned in close to Erin. “Told you.”
She scowled at him, then at Kermit. “Can’t you just do this as a favour for Matt?”
“Ghouls don’t do favours,” Dev muttered and began to walk off.
“And sorcerers don’t do nice,” Kermit called after him.
“Dev!” Erin called.
“Dev?” Kermit repeated. “As in Devantier?”
Stalled in mid storm out, Dev spun around. “How do you know my name?”
Kermit snarled. “I know more than you could ever dream about knowing. In fact, my brain just gets better with age. All that marrow. How’s yours doing, sorcerer?”
The sly taunt had Dev’s hackles bristling.
“You must be the boy one,” Kermit continued, his tone thoughtful now. “What was that unfortunate name your parents saddled you with? Randy?”
“Don’t you fucking talk about my parents.” The words ground out between his clenched teeth. His hands itched to blast this repugnant creature with shards of ice.
Erin, either boldly or stupidly, stepped between them. “Now wait up. I didn’t agree to referee a boxing match, guys. How about you both calm down?”
“Why? It’s a sorry piece of soulless slime that should never have crawled out of the dirt of its mother’s diseased body.”
The ghoul drew itself up to its full height, towering over even Dev. “No one speaks of my old ma like that.”
“Stop it!” Erin’s gun was out again, held upright between them, making sure they knew it could go either way. “You two don’t even know each other so I don’t know what you’re fighting about. It’s bloody ridiculous. Now, you.” She glared at Dev. “You stay back there and keep your mouth shut.” To Kermit, “You will answer some questions or I’ll shoot you in the dick.”
Kermit crouched and covered its privates so fast Dev almost laughed. If he wasn’t burning up with anger, he would have.
“Next time, let Hawkins do the negotiating,” Kermit muttered into the new silence. “At least when he shoots me it’s nowhere vital.”
“Next time, wear clothes,” Erin said heartlessly. “Okay. So Dev is in town looking for a sorcerer. What sort of sorcerer?” she asked Dev calmly.
“Earth.”
Beyond Erin, the ghoul was nodding. “Yeah, yeah. I know the one you mean. Crazy as bat shit.” It pulled a face at Dev. “Like most of your sort.”
Erin gave it a cautioning look. “Can you pinpoint this person’s location?”
“No.”
Dev snorted.
“Are you sure?” Erin asked Kermit.
“I can tell you where it’s spilled its crazy, sure, but that doesn’t mean the sick bastard is there.” Hunching its shoulders, the ghoul muttered, “Damn sorcerers going around making the natural unnatural. Fucking wankers. Some of us have to live in the results, you realise.”
Erin glared at Dev until he shut his mouth.
“Kermit, could you show me where you’ve felt the sorcerer?”
“That’s not going to help,” Dev said quickly. “I can do that myself.”
“Only if you’re pointed in the right direction to start with,” Erin reasoned. “Kermit?”
The ghoul grumbled but agreed. “Give me a day to put the feelers out to get specific points. Don’t come back with that.” He sneered at Dev. “I won’t give you anything if you do.”
“No problem,” Erin said. “It’ll either be me or Matt. This time tomorrow night okay?”
“Yeah, I should have something by then. Give me another couple of days and I could go further afield than the city.”
“The city should be fine for now.”
“Good. Now get lost before that bloody ghost tour comes through. I want to be finished dinner before they get here.”
Not bothering with a farewell, Dev turned to leave.
“Thanks, Afzal,” Erin said. “I might see you tomorrow night.”
Afzal?
Dev spun back around. “Afzal?”
Erin and the ghoul both looked at him. Erin frowned and Afzal’s eyes went wide.
“Oh, shit,” the ghoul said.
Chapter 25
I didn’t wait long, thankfully. Mercy’s directions started to come through in a couple of minutes and I got the bike moving. The Tool Brigade retraced their steps to New Farm and down to the ferry dock.
Another dead end. A true one this time because the whole gang got on a CityCat ferry and from there, could have gone either way along the river, landing on either side.
I sat on the bike, letting it idle while Mercy trooped to where I’d parked.
“What next, ke-mo sah-bee?” she asked.
After I digested the idea of Mercy in war paint and carefully didn’t laugh, I said, “Maybe it’s time we did this the hard way.”
“We?” she snapped
, going from cute to crazy in two point four seconds. “I’ve been hard waying this thing all night. Running backwards and forwards while you ride around on your precious bike, ordering me here and there.”
She had the cadence of building momentum toward a spectacular rant, so I just reached over and jammed her pink helmet on her head. “Fine, get on. We’ll do it the even harder way and take a tour of the ferry docks.”
She growled but got on the bike, adjusting the helmet over her wind tangled hair. Phone in one hand, she pulled up a city map and directed me to the next ferry point.
There are seventeen CityCat ferry docks between Apollo Road and St Lucia, ten on the north side, seven on the south. We did the north side ones first. Why? Because that’s the side we were already on, and also because Murphy is a prick and his Law is even prickier.
Nearly three hours later, we pulled into ferry dock number fifteen, at Hawthorn, not that far, as the crow flies, or indeed as the ferry sails, from where we started. We parked and I went with Mercy down to the dock. There were a few people hanging around, waiting for what had to be about the last ferry of the night. We got a few looks, but it wasn’t too bad, not even when Mercy ignored the ‘stay behind this point’ notice and all but hung off the end of the dock, taking big whiffs.
“Here,” she called. “They got off here.”
“Now we’re cooking with gas,” I muttered.
Mercy followed the hints of Tool and I went back to the bike. She waited for me to get going, then took off.
Hawthorne is one of those typical Brisbane suburbs where you find old Queenslander houses next to ultra-modern, rendered square blocks taking up the entire plot, leaving barely enough room around the edges to squeeze the lawnmower down. Mercy led me down several streets, moving us toward an area of predominantly older houses, some of them in decent shape, some not. She buzzed down a side street, then buzzed right back and told me to stop before turning the corner.
I brought the bike to a halt beside her.
“What is it?”
She pointed down the street. “They stopped down there. In an old house.”
“Are they there now?”
“Yup.”
“Is the monkey there?”
Night Call (Book 3): Rock Paper Sorcery Page 18
