by Alex P. Berg
There was one more message on my phone, one that had arrived a minute or two before I woke up. I didn’t recognize the number, but I opened it anyway. Hey, it’s Dawn. Larry says he wants to talk to you. Has some information you wanted. Also, can you pick up Whataburger on the way over? A chicken sandwich for me, a double meat burger for Larry, and a triple meat with three extra patties for Tank. Should probably get something for Bill, too, otherwise he’ll get pissy. Thanks.
My teeth squeaked as I ground them together. I hit the reply button and paused with my finger over the screen. Part of me wanted to tell Dawn to shove off, that I had much bigger issues at the moment than fetching fast food for her and the rest of the Nyte Patrol, but was it really true? Wasn’t the Librum de Virtute’s potential misuse arguably more important than anything in my disjointed personal life?
As I tried to rationalize my decision, I knew I was fooling myself. I’d gone running to the Nyte Patrol in the misguided hope of finding a team, any team, in which I’d feel as vital and valuable as I used to feel on my softball team. I hadn’t found that—not yet, anyway—but I had found one whose end goal was more weighty than the number of runs on a scoreboard.
I sighed. After a moment, I typed out a simple response. Ok. Be over soon.
When I arrived, I sauntered into the living room to find Dawn and Tank in front of the TV, this time watching one of those home flipping shows. Bill was in his jar, quietly snoring, but Larry was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey.” I tossed a couple fast food bags on the desk. “I’m here.”
Dawn rose from the couch and joined me. “Hey, Lexie. Thanks. We were running low on dinner options. Figured this was easier than having you swing by the supermarket. Tank?” The big guy leaned over the back of the couch as Dawn tossed him the comically oversized sextuple meat burger.
“You guys cook?” I said.
“Tank does. He makes a mean gazpacho.” Dawn tapped on the side of Bill’s jar, waking the zombie from his slumber. She sprinkled some fries over him. “Dinner time, little buddy. Eat up.”
I glanced at the man mountain on the couch. Between the fashion shows, the home makeover stuff, and the cooking, I had a lot of questions, but I let them slide for the more pressing one. “Bill eats french fries?”
The zombie head yawned and blinked. “Trust me, if fast food places served sauteed brains, I’d order those, but I take what I can get. And I don’t really eat them. Mostly I lick the salt off.”
Dawn took a seat and started on her chicken sandwich. I sat next to her and pulled out the burger I’d ordered for myself. “So where’s Larry?”
“Holed up in the study,” said Dawn, pointing with a fry. “He popped out to tell me to summon you, then dove back in. He’s been reading that tome all day as far as I know.”
“And what have the rest of you been doing? Watching TV? Baking scones?”
“Tank’s more of a biscuit guy, but no. Larry assigned us research tasks pertaining to the items we’d previously delivered to Romanov. Said you had a good idea to investigate those. Probably should’ve done it sooner, to be honest.”
I was curious and I didn’t want to come across as an ass, so I simply nodded. “And?”
“I investigated the sword. Wasn’t too hard, given we knew the name. Gwyriad, a Welsh sword from the sixteenth century. Translates to deflection or divergence or something like that, which gives you a good idea as to the magic imbued to it. I tracked the sword over the centuries and found that the wielder was always abnormally hard to strike down. Makes me think I should’ve kept the sword for myself, actually.”
I blinked. “You traced five centuries of a sword’s history? You must have good contacts.”
Dawn shrugged. “I know how to Google. Tank, you want to tell us about those crystals?”
The big guy didn’t turn from the TV. “They’re pink, I think. They… focus power or something.”
Dawn sighed and rolled her eyes. “Pretty sure he shirked his assignment. But Bill didn’t, did you Bill?”
Bill pried his tongue off one of the fries. “Sure didn’t. I made some calls. Go on. Ask me about the Amulet of Melding.”
“I’d rather ask you how you made those calls.”
“As I’ve told Larry more than once, arms aren’t everything. Trust me, I can do a lot without appendages.” He smiled in a creepier way than normal.
I grimaced. “You know, I figured you would’ve been the one to study the map, not the amulet.”
“I didn’t need to study the map,” said Bill. “There was nothing special about it. It was literally a AAA map with the South Congress bridge circled in permanent marker.”
“The bridge all the bats nest underneath?”
“That’s the one,” said Bill. “Now, the amulet on the other hand—”
“EUREKA!”
I jumped in my seat as Larry stormed around the corner. He plopped into his chair and dumped the Librum de Virtute on the desk. “I’ve got it.”
“Got what?” I said.
“What the Librum does, of course.” He opened one of the bags and stuffed his face inside it. “Did you get anything for me?”
“A burger,” I said. “Should be the only one left. The fries are to share, though we might be running low already.”
Bill snickered. “You can have mine when I’m done with them.”
“That’s okay. Knock yourself out.” Larry tore into his meal, moaning his approval as he shot me a thumbs up.
I stared at him. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“What do you mean, well what? The book, Larry!”
“Oh, right. As it turns out, the Librum contains detailed magical instructions about imbuing objects with power. Not just inanimate objects, but non-sentient beings as well. And in a bit of serendipity, or perhaps by design, it contains magic to help the reader transfer power to said objects and beings.”
“So it can be used to create, what? Golems or something?”
Larry smiled as he licked sauce from a finger. “Hey, you know what golems are. I knew you’d fit right in. But to answer your question, I think so. The book is really long, and I’m not much of a speed reader, not to mention my Latin is rusty.”
I crumpled my wrapper into a ball and started ticking items off on my fingers. “So thus far you’ve provided this Romanov guy with a sword that can deflect attacks, mysterious pink crystals that focus power or something, a map of the south congress bridge, and an amulet…” I glanced at Bill.
“Of melding,” he said. “It can meld things.”
“Of course,” I said. “And the book can bring objects to life, or so we’re led to believe. So if you had access to all those things, what would you do with them, Larry?”
“I’m not the best person to ask,” he said around a mouthful of hot beef. “My aspirations in life mostly revolve around not being homeless or starving to death.”
“Bill?”
“I’d meld my head onto a new body and stab someone with the sword!”
“Dawn?”
She sighed. “Well, unlike these two idiots, I’d use the items to consolidate my own magical power, assuming I had any to begin with. Then I’d probably use them to do some nasty, spiteful shit and subjugate a bunch of people under my rule.”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
“I mean, the Nyte Patrol is fine and all, but if the choice was between all powerful supreme leader for life and this? Come on. But just because I’d use the items for evil doesn’t mean Romanov would. Honestly, I don’t know a thing about him.”
“Right,” I said. “Which was the point I was trying to make last night.”
“You know,” said Larry as he finished his burger. “Instead of assuming the worst of others, we could always ask him what his plans for the Librum are.”
I scrunched my face. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Larry, but sometimes people lie.”
He snorted. “I know that. But spells of truth can work wonders, young pad
awan.”
“You can cast spells over the phone?”
“I wouldn’t have to. Romanov has a place in town. He runs an academy for disadvantaged gifted folks.”
“You mean like Professor X?”
“Not exactly. You’ll see. I can give you directions. We’ve been there several times to drop off the other items.”
Something told me heading to Romanov’s place was a bad idea, but I couldn’t explain why other than the fact that he already had a bunch of powerful magical items and apparently was surrounded by gifted individuals that he was training in the use of deadly magics. “Alright. But we don’t take the tome with us. We need to store it somewhere safe until we’re absolutely, positively sure we can trust Romanov.”
“Relax, Lexie,” said Larry. “I know just the man for the job.”
21
“For the record,” I said as I pulled onto a private drive in west Austin, “Bill was not the right man for the job. He’s not even a man. He’s a disembodied zombie head. What’s he going to do if someone tries to steal the tome? Nibble them to death?”
“Would you let it go?” said Larry. “You’ve been urging me to build people up, right? Bill is far more capable than you give him credit for. For the record, I’ve seen him scare away a herd of possessed llamas with his gaze alone, and he won a battle of wits with a Sicilian of intellectual repute. Not to mention that nobody knows we have the tome other than perhaps Charity Peterson and the leaders of BSI. The latter are too goody goody to break into our house to steal it, and I’m pretty sure Dawn and Charity’s tryst last night precludes any quid pro quo tome theft.”
“For the record, it doesn’t,” said Dawn from the back seat. “But I don’t think Charity will be coming over any time soon. I made it clear I’m a one and done sort of girl.”
The trees on either side of the driveway parted, and my jaw dropped. Romanov may not have been taking unruly mutants under his wing, but his estate sure as heck resembled the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. The building was more castle than mansion. I parked on the wide circle drive in front of the sprawling structure, killed the engine, and hopped out of the Suburban.
I paused with my hand on the hood of the truck. “Dang. Now I understand what you meant when you said he paid well.”
“I know, right?” said Larry. “This guy’s loaded. He’s pretty much single-handedly kept us afloat for the last six months. Whoa, whoa. Tank. You can’t bring that in!”
“Huh?” Tank had hopped out the back, his duffel bag hooked over his shoulder.
“No guns,” said Larry. “Dawn, you’ll have to leave your swords in the car, too. This is our client. We have to show some professionalism.”
Tank grunted and tossed his bag back in the truck while Dawn rolled her eyes and did the same with her swords. The sky was turning a nice shade of purple as we reached the twelve foot tall front gates.
Larry gestured to the doorbell. “Would you please? I’d rather not break anything.”
I pressed the buzzer and heard a set of melodious chimes. A moment later, the latch clicked, and both of the doors swung inward on silent hinges. No one stood there to greet us, though a slight breeze whistled past me. I thought I heard a pained moan on the wind’s nebulous lips.
Larry stepped inside, but I hesitated. “Did anyone else hear that?”
“You mean that voice?” said Larry. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Happens every time I’ve been over. Pretty sure this place was built on an ancient Indian burial ground.”
“Right,” I said, following him inside. “Because if anything, that proves Romanov isn’t evil.”
“Sometimes you have to make concessions when buying property,” said Tank. “Even high priced buyers have budgets, you know.”
I snorted. “Alright, Mr. I’ve Watched Every Episode of Flip or Flop.”
The entry hall opened into a sprawling cylindrical foyer, one with a broad staircase that split at the back of the room and curved up both walls. A deep purple runner ran the length of the stairs, and velvet drapes of a similar color hung over tall windows at the back of the room, obscuring almost all the remaining natural light. Antique kerosene lamps hung from wrought iron fixtures at the base of the steps, sending flickering shadows dancing across the polished marble floor.
I lifted an eyebrow. “Homey.”
“Yeah, it’s a little too Death Becomes Her for me,” said Larry, “but to each his own. Hello? Ivan? Anyone home?”
I heard the moaning breeze again, and the kerosene lamps flickered. As the flames coalesced and returned to full strength, I heard an unfamiliar voice. “Welcome to Goatboil. Can we help you?”
I turned to find two young men standing behind Dawn and Tank. They looked like they could’ve been twins, each of them a shade over six feet tall, wearing black tank tops that showed off their toned bodies. Each sported perfectly coifed hair that had too much mousse in it, one pitch black and the other a dark brown. They were both undeniably good looking, though a little on the douchey side for my tastes, with sharp features, strong jaws, and smoky eyes—too smoky. They might’ve been wearing eyeshadow, actually. Maybe eyeliner, too.
Dawn arched a stern eyebrow at the pair. “Cool it with the surprise entrances, Hall and Oates. I may not have my swords on me, but that doesn’t mean I’m defenseless.”
The young men eyed Dawn with surprisingly cool indifference. “We meant no offense, Miss…?”
“Blayde.” Dawn made the name sound like a threat.
“Yes, hi,” said Larry. “We’re the Nyte Patrol. We’re looking for Ivan. It’s about an item he asked us to locate for him.”
“Hold on,” I said. “Are we going to gloss over the fact that this place is called Goatboil?”
The young men looked my way. Their eyes focused as if seeing me for the first time. In a blur, they were beside me, one on each side. The one with the black hair stood in front of me, undulating in a somewhat snakelike fashion. He arched an eyebrow, puckered his lips, and gave me a Blue Steel sort of look. When he spoke, his voice had adopted a more sultry, seductive tone. “And who, pray tell, are you?”
“Uh… I’m Lexie.” I glanced over my shoulder. The guy at my back had adopted the same look as the one in front of me. “And you guys are?”
“Tristan,” said the brown haired one.
“And I’m Gavin,” said the black-haired one in front of me. He ran his tongue across his lips in a thoroughly creepy way. “Lexie, I don’t quite know how to say this, but I find you strangely irresistible. Intoxicating, even. Of every young woman I’ve ever met, you’re without a doubt the one that’s the most…” He paused and took a deep breath, as if he were trying to sniff the word out of the air.
“Spell-binding?” I offered.
“Plain.”
I took a step back. “Excuse me?”
“It’s true.” Tristan spoke in my ear. I turned around and nearly smacked him. “Just look at you. There’s not a spectacular bone in your body. It’s glorious.”
I was momentarily too shocked to tell the guy to piss off. “Larry? What kind of academy did you say this was?”
“One for supernatural youth. Vampires mostly, as you can see.”
I sneered at Gavin. “Are they all as big of douchebags as these two?”
Larry tilted his head from side to side. “Eh…”
Gavin pulled off his tank top, revealing pecs that had been chiseled from stone. “Lexie. We’re going to go on a date. Tomorrow morning. I’ll drive. I like to drive fast. It’s incredibly easy for me. I barely even have to pay attention. You’ll be thoroughly impressed.”
“The hell I will,” I said.
Tristan spoke in my ear again. I turned to find him shirtless as well. He’d also oiled his muscles. “Lexie. After your date with Gavin, we’ll go out. Maybe to a nice, exorbitantly priced restaurant. I’ll barely eat, and neither will you. You’ll be too busy admiring me, of course. I’ll pay. That’ll impress you as well.”
“Wh
at the fuck is wrong with you?” I said. “I’m not dating either of you.”
“Yes you will,” said Gavin. “We’re irresistible.”
“Are you using some sort of vampire compulsion on me? Because it’s not working.”
Gavin looked genuinely confused. “What? No. You’ll go out with us because you like being told what to do. It’s very erotic. And then, once we get back from the date—”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Dawn stormed forward, waving her arms. “Get the fuck out of here you pricks. She’s not buying your jerkwad teenage power trip fantasies. Go on, git. Before one of us sticks a boot up your ass.”
In a blur, both of the guys had their shirts back on and had retreated to the base of the stairs. Gavin smirked at me. “You’ll come around, Lexie. Your kind always do.”
The cocky bastard blew me a kiss before disappearing. I growled as Tristan lingered behind, waving seductively.
“Hey, hold on,” said Larry. “Romanov. Where can we find him?”
“Not sure,” said Tristan. “Ask Administrator Cheyev. He should be in his office upstairs.”
Tristan vanished, and I realized I was fingering the demon tooth in my pocket. I shook my head. “What a pair of asshats. Teasing me like that. Bet it gets them off…”
“Oh, they weren’t teasing you,” said Dawn. “They’re legitimately into you. But don’t let it get you down. You’re not nearly as plain as you appear on first glance. Larry?”
“Yeah, Cheyev’s office,” he said. “I know where it is.”
Larry led the way up the stairs, past more velvet drapes, ancient portraits of old dudes in stuffy suits, and several more smarmy youngsters with too much hair gel who gave me slack-jawed looks. Eventually we hooked a right into a study where a thin, severe man in a three piece suit stood behind a broad mahogany desk and between shelves packed with books. He adjusted his tie in a standing mirror that failed to reflect his image.
