The Eclective: The Celtic Collection

by The Eclective

  “Are you kidding me? No wonder he changed his name to Margeon. Does he have any real abilities?”

  “Hard to say.” I could hear her tapping at her keyboard as she spoke. “He’s pretty new to the area and he keeps to himself, mostly. He’s a low-level member of the local sorcerer’s guild, but that could just be because he’s new. So be cautious.”

  “Roger that.”

  ***

  Melvin Smith — er, Margeon — lived in outer Southeast Portland. It had once been a nice, lower-middle-class neighborhood of small but cozy houses with large yards and friendly neighbors. In recent years the gangs and drug dealers had moved in. Now the small houses were more run-down than cozy and the large yards grown out of control. Don’t even get me started on the neighbors.

  Margeon’s house was just off the main street on a quiet side road. It was a typical neighborhood for the area with the usual sixties style ranch houses. Paint peeled almost completely off the walls, cracks laced the windows, and even a couple had doors with gaping holes in the paneling. I wondered if they’d been kicked in by the police or the criminals. If I hadn’t been a Hunter, I think I’d have been a little nervous about visiting Margeon’s street.

  The sorcerer from Nebraska’s house stood out with its neatly trimmed lawn and fresh coat of paint. It was sandwiched in between two of the worst looking houses on the block. I wondered which house was the Leprechaun’s until I saw the dead rosebushes along the East side of the property. Bingo.

  I parked my car right in the drive and strolled nice and slow to the front door. I could see a couple of less-than-savory types eyeballing the Mustang from across the street. So, I did the one thing guaranteed to make them think I was a crazy person.

  I walked back to the car, strolled around and popped the trunk. Inside was my hunting gear: UV guns, knives, swords, machetes. You know, the fun stuff.

  In plain view of the two men, I started pulling out and inspecting my little arsenal. Only the blades were deadly to humans, but they didn’t know that. Out of the corner of my eye I could tell they were getting more and more interested. So, I pulled my dao out of its sheath and held it up to the light, giving the sword few flicks and slashes. Then I turned and caught the men’s gaze.

  Very slowly I smiled and I let the Darkness inside me creep into my eyes.

  That did it. The two couldn’t get out of there fast enough. With a laugh I carefully placed the blade back in the trunk and slammed the lid shut.

  Then I carefully tamped down the Darkness. It snarled a little before reluctantly returning to the place where it lived, deep within my … soul, for lack of a better word.

  I can’t explain the Darkness. It just is. Some kind of weird superpower which makes me even stronger and faster than a normal Hunter. Why it decided to show up when it did is anyone’s guess, but it was part of me now. I’d learned to deal with it. More or less.

  I rapped on Margeon’s door. I heard some shuffling inside before the door cracked open. A pale hazel eye in a pasty-white face appeared in the crack just above the safety chain. “What do you want?” They should have been forceful words, but coming from Margeon, they were anything but.

  I decided using his real name probably wouldn’t get me far. “Margeon?”

  The eye widened. “Who are you? How do you know my name?” The eye narrowed. “If you’ve come here to put a hex on me, it will fail!” His voice wobbled a little on the last.

  “Uh, I’m not a Witch, so no hexes, I promise.”

  He seemed to think about that. “All right. What do you want.”

  “May I come in?”

  “No way!” he gasped. “You might steal a lock of my hair or my toothbrush or something.”

  I stared at him, baffled. “Why would I do that?”

  “To give to a Witch so she can put a hex on me.”

  Riiiight. “Fine then. My name is Morgan Bailey and I’m a private detective. I just need to ask you a couple questions.”

  “Private detective? What do you want with me?”

  “We’ll, it’s about your neighbor. Mr. O’Leery?”

  Margeon’s eyes widened even further, if that was possible. “That son of a newt? Do you know what he did? He killed my rosebushes.” The fury in his voice was obvious. And loud.

  Hoo-boy. Loony on the loose. “Yeah, he told me you think that. So, I was wondering, did you decide to take any kind of revenge on Mr. O’Leery for the death of your rosebushes?”

  “Of course I did. What kind of a sorcerer would I be if I didn’t take revenge?” There was an almost maniacal gleam in the one eye I could see.

  “That’s true. So, what form did your revenge take?”

  “I cursed him, of course.”

  I almost choked. “Really? What kind of curse?”

  He grinned. “I cursed his hair so it would all fall out.”

  “Oh, excellent curse. Excellent.” It obviously hadn’t worked. Last time I saw O’Leery he’d had a very full and luxurious head of hair. “You didn’t happen to take your revenge in any other way, did you?”

  He frowned. “Like what?”

  “Like steal something of his, maybe?”

  He drew himself up to his full height, which was a good three inches shorter than my own five-foot-five, and bellowed indignantly, “I did no such thing! Sorcerers do not steal. Rule Number 96.”

  I’d never heard of any such sorcerer rules. In fact, the few sorcerers I’d run into hadn’t exactly been full of scruples. Still, Margeon seemed very convinced of said rule so who was I to crush him? “Okay, thanks, Mr. Sm … uh, Margeon.” I turned to go.

  “Do you work for O’Leery?” Margeon called after me.

  Shit. I turned around. “Yes, Mr. O’Leery did hire me.”

  There was a shriek of outrage and the door slammed shut. I stood there for a moment blinking in shock before the door ripped open again revealing Melvin Smith in all his Margeon the Sorcerer glory.

  I wanted to laugh, I really did. Who could blame me? The guy was wearing a burgundy velvet bathrobe to which someone had sewn (rather badly) some sort of fake fur trim. On his feet were a pair of blue and gold satin slippers, the kind that curl up at the toes like something out of Arabian Nights. But the crowning glory was on his head: A tinfoil “wizard’s hat” with stickers of suns and moons and stars.

  He stormed out onto the front porch and started waving around what looked like a stick from a drum set. I could only assume it was supposed to be his wand. Then Margeon started screaming at the top of his lungs. I had no idea what he was saying, but it didn’t sound good.

  I’m only mildly ashamed to admit I turned tail and ran for my car. Once I had driven far enough away from crazy Melvin Smith, I pulled out my cell and rang Kabita.

  “I think that Melvin/Margeon guy just put a curse on me.”

  Kabita snorted. “Doubtful.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I had a word with the guild. Apparently good old Margeon is a bit of a wing-nut. He has zero powers, but he’s absolutely convinced he’s the next Merlin.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I started laughing. “Why on earth did they let him in, then?”

  “They were afraid he’d start blabbing if they didn’t,” she said. “The last thing they need is that kind of notoriety. When he showed up claiming to be descended from a long line of powerful sorcerers, they brought him in and made him swear an oath of silence. They’ve been keeping him busy writing a ‘Sorcerer’s Code of Ethics’ or some such thing.”

  So, that explained the Rule Number 96. I was relieved I didn’t have to worry about my hair falling out or something.

  “Any luck on O’Leery’s gold?” Kabita asked.

  “Not yet,” I admitted. “But I’ve still got one more suspect to interview.”

  “Let me guess. The vampire.”

  I sighed. “Naturally.”

  “Maybe you should take Jack with you.”

  I frowned. “Why? You think I can’t handle a vampir
e on my own?”

  “Sure you can. But you don’t want to kill him before you have a chance to question him. Jack can hold him down while you beat him up.” I could hear her laughter on the other end. “Besides, where you’re going, you could use some back-up.”

  She was being a dope, but she had a point. I could take a vamp, no problem. But that was if I wanted him dead. If I wanted him alive, well, that was a different ballgame. It would be easier if I had some help. “Okay, I’ll call Jack,” I finally said with some reluctance.

  “No need. I’ll have him meet you there.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fabulous.”

  ***

  Jack was waiting for me when I arrived at the home of the last suspect. I use the term “home” loosely since it was actually an abandoned auto body shop in one of the rougher areas of town. And by “rougher,” I mean it made Melvin’s neighborhood look downright Mayberry.

  I hated that my heart skipped just a tiny beat when I saw Jack leaning up against his car. All long legged and muscular chest and shaggy haired with eyes the color of the ocean. He was the stuff romance novels were made of. Still, we’d had our chance and he’d blown it. Big time.

  “Hey, Morgan.” His voice had that rumbly Vin Diesel thing going for it. Still, I refused to melt like butter. Not this time. I was done melting for Jackson Keel.

  “Jack.” I gave him a brief nod. “Kabita told you the plan?”

  “Go in, hold him down while you beat the truth out of him, then dust his ass.”

  “Yeah, pretty much.” It was a simple plan, as plans went, but just between you, me, and the lamppost, things don’t always go to plan. “I take it there’s a back door.”

  He nodded. “Side door, actually. Looks like that’s what he’s been using. The garage door is still padlocked and the front looks like it hasn’t been opened in years.”

  Normally I wouldn’t worry about leaving one door unguarded, but it was quickly approaching twilight. I wouldn’t put it past the vamp to make a run for it. “Do you think you can open it?” I nodded toward the front door. Jack was right. There was plant life growing up through the cracks in the pavement in front of it and the doorknob looked rusted through.

  He shot me a look. One I could only interpret as “duh.”

  “Fine. Wait for thirty, then go in. I’ll hit the side door.” I didn’t wait for his reply. I knew he’d be ready when I was. I might not be able to trust Jack with my heart, but I could trust him to have my back.

  The side door definitely showed signs of regular use. This was it. The little gripping sensation at the back of my skull confirmed it. My Hunter senses letting me know a vampire was near.

  I took a deep breath, counted to three, then shoved open the door. The inside of the old auto body shop was nearly pitch black. I couldn’t see or hear anything, but my “other” senses were definitely screaming at me, so I knew the vamp was inside somewhere, waiting.

  I heard the front door screech open on rusty hinges, and light from the streetlights outside spilled across the dusty floor. The light was blocked momentarily as Jack moved through the doorway into the room.

  I edged across the floor cautiously, straining to catch the slightest sound that might give the vampire away. There was nothing. I stepped a little further into the room. I saw Jack mirror me, his body a dark shape against the outside light.

  Then a big, black something dropped from the ceiling right on top of Jack. The thing was man-shaped and I watched in horror as a pair of fangs flashed in the dim light before sinking into the side of Jack’s neck.

  Jack let out a roar and tried to shake the thing off, but the vamp clung like Super Glue. Jack might be big and strong, but when something is on your back, big and strong goes right out the window.

  I darted across the floor, but before I could get to them, Jack had rammed himself back into the wall of the shop. I heard a couple of the vamp’s vertebrae make a sickening pop, but that didn’t seem to faze the thing. It still had its fangs buried in Jack’s neck.

  Dusting the thing would be easy. It was so focused on Jack, I’m pretty sure the vampire didn’t even know I was there. Unfortunately, killing it was out of the question. At least for now.

  I grabbed the back of the vamp’s shirt and tried to heave it off Jack. All I succeeded in doing was ripping its shirt half off. Great. Now what?

  I had some great abilities like channeling the power of Fire and Air, but either one of those would be more likely to toast the thing than get it to answer questions. Plus, with Jack so close, there was no way to avoid collateral damage.

  So, I did the only thing left. I pulled my UV gun out and shot the thing in the leg. The vamp reared back, ripping its teeth out of Jack’s throat as it howled in agony.

  Now, a UV gun is totally harmless to humans. Well, except maybe that whole skin cancer thing. But a concentrated blast of UV light to the heart with dust a vamp. Heck, a long enough blast anywhere on the torso will put it out of its misery pretty darn quick. An extremity shot, on the other hand, will mostly just hurt it. Badly.

  Unfortunately, the vampire didn’t let go of Jack. Instead it lunged for his throat again, no doubt hoping for the healing power of the blood.

  So, I shot it in the other leg.

  The vamp dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, screaming and cussing and carrying on. It squirmed a bit, but with both its legs useless, it wasn’t going anywhere. Jack wheeled around, ripping his sword out of its sheath with one hand while he clamped the other to his still bleeding neck.

  “You okay?” It was hard to tell in the dark how bad the wound was.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  No doubt he would be. Like me, he was immune to whatever virus thing it was that turned a person vampire. He was also pretty much immortal, so a little laceration of the jugular wouldn’t bother him much.

  The vampire was still screaming and cussing, using words even I’d never heard before. And believe me, I can cuss like a sailor when I put my mind to it.

  “Will you shut up already? You’re not going to die. They’re just a couple of burns.”

  “You shot me,” the vamp hissed.

  “Uh, yeah. You were trying to turn my friend here into breakfast. Now stop your whining. I’ve got some questions for you.”

  “Screw you,” the vamp snarled, its eyes glowing a little in the darkness (I still couldn’t make out if it was male or female and its voice was totally androgynous). “I’m not telling you anything.”

  I glanced over at Jack who shrugged. I turned back to the vamp with a little smile. “Well, that’s unfortunate.” And I shot him in the left knee.

  The vamp howled like a banshee. “You bitch!”

  “Yes, sometimes that’s true.” I smiled at the squirming creature. “Now answer my questions or I keep shooting until you do.”

  “Fine, fine. What do you want to know?”

  “You know a Leprechaun named O’Leery?”

  “That cheating scum-sucker?” the vampire shrieked. “Did he put you up to this? I’m going to rip that bastard’s head off and suck out his brains. I’m going to …”

  “Yeah, I get it,” I interrupted before the vamp could really get going. He obviously knew O’Leery. “He claims you stole his pot of gold.”

  That shut the vamp up. “What the f- … what would I want his damn gold for?”

  “So, you didn’t take it, then?”

  “Hell, no. If I was going to take anything it would be his cold, black heart. I’d rip it right out of his chest and I’d … ”

  I pulled the trigger and sent a pure ray of UV light straight through the vampire’s own shriveled, black heart. From one blink to the next he turned to a pile of dust.

  “Was that really necessary?”

  I turned to Jack. His neck had stopped bleeding and looked like it was already healing up. Still, he was quite a mess.

  “Yeah. Pretty much. You know as well as I do that the minute we left he’d be off ripping out someone e
lse’s throat. And since you’re pretty much the only person I know who can survive that … ” I let my sentence trail off. Vampires lived for one thing only: To kill and eat. The bloodlust left little room for anything else. They were not sexy. They were not good boyfriend material. They were killing machines.

  Jack sighed. “I just sometimes worry it’s getting a little too easy for you.”

  I blinked. I had no real answer for that. Because sometimes I worried about that, too. But I had a mystery to solve, so I shoved that thought aside for the moment.

  “None of the three people who O’Leery thought might have his gold even cared about it, let alone took it. What now?”

  “I think now you need to have another conversation with your client,” Jack said.

  He wasn’t wrong about that.

  ***

  “Are you calling me a liar?” The Leprechaun’s face was nearly purple with outrage.

  “No, Mr. O’Leery,” Kabita tried to placate him. “We are simply saying that none of the leads you gave us have panned out. None of these people took your gold, so someone else must have. We just have to look somewhere else.”

  That seemed to mollify him slightly. He went from purple to an ordinary red. With a slight huff he straightened his waistcoat before sinking into the chair across from Kabita’s desk. “Very well, then, what do you need to know?”

  “Well, Mr. O’Leery,” I said. “It would be helpful if I could see where your gold was stored. Maybe it will give me a sense of who might have taken it.”

  His eyes narrowed. “A Leprechaun never gives away his hiding place.”

  “Please, Mr. O’Leery. This is important.” Gods, could this client be any more difficult?

  O’Leery mulled it over. Then finally gave a little huff. “Very well. Do you have a computer I can use?”

  Kabita and I exchanged looks of bafflement. “Computer?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “Naturally. If you want to see where I stored my gold.”

  Without a word, Kabita slowly turned her laptop around toward O’Leery. He scooped it off the desk and onto his lap. He tapped away at the keyboard before turning the laptop back around. The screen showed what looked to be some kind of computer game.

  “There. I stored my gold in there.”

  “In a computer game?” Kabita asked.

  O’Leery scowled. “Virtual world.”

  “You mean it’s not a real pot of gold?” I finally managed to speak past the sheer shock.