Some Legends Never Die (Monsters and Mayhem Book 2)

by E A Comiskey

  “Why would you want to do that?” The woman squeezed her folded hands together so tightly her knuckles turned white. “No matter how much money you have, you’d never be able to buy an experience like this one.”

  “Yeah, you know what would make it really great? Meeting Umbra in person.”

  The woman blushed as if Burke teased her. “Don’t be silly.”

  “Why is it silly?”

  “Well...no one... I mean...maybe someone but... I don’t think...” The woman twitched twice and then relaxed. “Look! John Jones is coming this way. Maybe he’ll stop at our table and say hello. How exciting!”

  Burke harrumphed. “Yeah. Super radical, dude.” But she’d be lying if she said some part of her didn’t sort of hope he’d come talk to her once more before they left. The part of her that had longed since birth to fit in and be accepted by society nearly swooned at the very thought.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Richard

  From the bed where he’d been tucked in and given Ibuprofen and an icepack for his head, Richard saw Burke in the hallway.

  “What happened?”

  Stanley and Maddie turned as she paused in the doorway.

  Maddie made extravagant gestures with her arms as she explained, “Your grandfather and his friend, against every bit of common sense known to humanity, decided to spend the night drinking coffee and spying on the neighbors, which turned into him bashing his head on the furniture and scaring the wits out of everyone. This, from the man who insists he is perfectly sound enough of body and mind to take care of himself, so far be it from me to offer him any kind of a helping hand. No! Not me! He can do it himself. So fine, just fine. Fine! It’s fine! Just fine!” She took a slow, shuddering breath while they gaped in wide-eyed silence. “So,” she said in a high, honey-sweet tone. “How was your date?”

  Burke blinked three times before answering. “He told me he wanted to kiss me. I said I’d rather not. He tried to kiss me anyway. We had a brief but intense conversation about consent and then I got out of the car. I don’t think his nose is broken, but I can’t give any guarantees.”

  Maddie rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “I just…” She took another of those shaky breaths before announcing, “I’m going to bed,” and without another glance in Richard’s direction, she left the room. A moment later, her own door shut with a bit more of a bang than seemed necessary.

  It took a few minutes to get re-organized. Burke disappeared to her own room to change into pajamas. Stanley pulled the drapes shut and pushed the furniture back into place.

  “What in tarnation was that thing?” Richard asked.

  Stanley admitted he’d never seen anything like it.

  Richard thought of the pale skin, black eyes, and sharp fangs. “Well, don’t you think we ought to go after it once Maddie’s settled in? We can’t just leave it running around the neighborhood. It could be dangerous.”

  “Only to vegetable gardens, it seems. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say we’ll find Madeline’s kale patch has been murdered. Whatever that creature is, it appears to be an herbivore. It made no move to attack through the window. It ran from Albert’s headlights. No one’s been hurt around here, not so much as a missing chihuahua.”

  Richard snorted. “An herbivore with fangs? Ain’t that contrary to some basic fourth-grade science?”

  Stanley sat down in the nearest chair, crossed his legs, and smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from his slacks. “Everything evolves with some sort of defense mechanism. Even a bunny rabbit can give a nasty bite when frightened.”

  The memory of the shriek wrought a little shiver. “That wasn’t any kind of bunny rabbit.”

  At last, Burke returned, shed of the fancy dress, cleansed of the thick make-up, and sipping a cup of herbal tea that smelled faintly reminiscent of the stuff the nurses used to rub on his hip at Everest Senior Living. Where did Maddie find that crap, and what possessed her to spend good money on it?

  “I’ll tell you my story, but I don’t know exactly what it all means,” she said before launching into the story of her evening with the four-eyed geek.

  When she’d finished, Burke set her empty teacup on top of the dresser. “That’s all there is. No wild reflections when I checked my lipstick in my compact mirror. No ancient warding discretely carved into the doorframes. No second bar serving up calf’s blood. Real silver on the tables. Weirdness all over the place, to be sure, but nothing like anything I can put a name to.”

  “Well, that’s about as useful as tits on a bull,” Richard said.

  “Yeah, well, what great mystery did you solve tonight?” Burke challenged.

  Stanley ignored the bickering. “It’s not witchcraft.” He rubbed his chin the way he often did when trying to remember something he’d learned before either Burke or her grandfather had even been alive, let alone hunting. “But it’s close, related somehow. Not demons, either, but it feels almost the same.”

  “Explain?” Burke asked.

  He held out an empty hand. “Like you said, no hex bags. No fat leather books. No bowls with symbols or funny-smelling herbs. No strange drinks at the party. Nothing witchy in any way, shape, or form. The craft, well-practiced, can be powerful beyond imagining, but it invariably leaves traces.”

  “But it does sound witchy,” Richard argued.

  Stanley nodded. “Indeed, in many ways it does, my friend.”

  “Maybe this Umbra is like Lord Voldemort from the Harry Potter books. He can fly without a broom and cast spells without a wand because he’s gone farther down the dark path than any other witch,” Burke said.

  Leave it to the book nerd to compare real life to a kid’s story. If we live in a world where witches and wizards really do run magical schools, you could bet your bippy that everyone would know about it. You couldn’t hide something like that.

  A different internal voice objected.

  Isn’t Umbra the head of a major international magical conglomerate that basically rules the world in secret?

  Richard’s mind thrummed like a hive of irritated bees inside his skull. Ibuprofen had its limits.

  Stanley folded his hands in his lap. “Anything is possible.”

  “You going to give a straight answer of some kind or just sit here yanking our chains all night?” Richard asked.

  “I don’t know the answer, Dick. It’s not witches or demons. Not in any sense I’ve encountered. Like Burke, I sense the otherness in every part of what’s going on, but I have no answers except to confess that I am very concerned about this situation.”

  Richard didn’t like the sound of that one bit. They’d faced some truly creepy stuff and it was a chilly day in Hell when Stan Kapcheck actually started to worry.

  “Burke, I’m not sure sending you there was the right thing to do. I may have made a terrible mistake. I want you to stay close, all right? Stick around the house. Don’t go outside alone. Don’t go anywhere at all with Albert again.”

  Amusement did a little tap dance across her face. “Oh, don’t worry. I don’t think the IT guy and I will be running off on any romantic trysts in the near future. I have to ask, though, do you really think any of this has anything to do with him directly? I mean...Albert? Really? What’s he going to do to me? Ambush me with his pretend Dungeons and Dragons army?”

  Stanley grinned at her. “If he did, you’d be hard pressed to fight them on your own.”

  Burke rolled her eyes.

  “All right then, since we don’t know squat and we ain’t gonna figure it out tonight, are we going to bed?” Richard asked. “I’m beat. Seems like we oughta be able to think about this over breakfast better than now.”

  Stanley rubbed his chin.

  “Bed sounds fantastic,” Burke said. She kissed them both and left the room.

  Richard lay down and pulled the blanket over his chest, too tired to take the time to properly gloat about getting first dibs on the bed, but alert enough to note that Stan still hadn’t moved. “Y
ou pullin’ an all-nighter for some reason?”

  “Hmm?” Stanley mumbled.

  “What crawled into your craw?” Richard asked.

  Stanley met his gaze. “Demons.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I just can’t stop thinking that demons can work magic without a wand and fly without a broomstick.”

  “Do witches really fly on broomsticks?” Richard asked.

  “I was just sticking with the earlier comparison,” Stanley explained.

  “Ah. Well.” Richard thought about it. “There’s no sulfur smell. Burke and Albert both said that.”

  Stanley nodded. “Yes. They did, and I’ve never heard of a demon that didn’t stink of the pit.”

  “But,” Richard prompted.

  Stanley sighed. “I don’t know, my friend. I just don’t know.” At last, he settled into the makeshift bed on the floor.

  “That makes you frustrated as a woodpecker in a concrete forest, don’t it?” Richard asked.

  “Leaves me feeling crazier than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” Stanley replied.

  Feeling mocked, Richard harrumphed and turned toward the wall. He felt Stanley laughing at him in the silence.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Albert

  Albert showed up at work fifteen minutes early. Any earlier and he would have appeared over-anxious. Fifteen minutes said I’m prompt and efficient, but not a drooling little lapdog. His stomach churned and a thin sheen of sweat refused to leave his palms.

  His appearance in Jones’ office generated a response entirely different than he’d received last time. The secretary turned her creepy red smile on him. Her pale skin appeared almost translucent under the bright lights. He could see the blue veins beneath the surface. Something about that was oddly titillating. “Go on in, Mr. Peters. Mr. Jones is expecting you.” Her pink tongue darted across her bottom lip.

  Albert struggled to focus. “Thank you.” With a trembling hand, he opened the door and then entered the inner sanctum.

  John Jones was practicing his putt on a thin strip of artificial grass. “Come on in, my boy,” he said without looking up.

  Stars swam in front of Albert’s eyes. A bead of sweat dripped down from his temple. The night before, he’d been bolstered by more than a few glasses of wine and the desire to impress a beautiful woman. In the harsh light of morning, he could barely stand in the presence of the Great Man Himself.

  “Do you know why you’re here, Albert?”

  Did he? “You asked me to come, sir.”

  Jones leaned on his golf club and looked Albert in the eye. “Calm down, son.”

  A peace that passed understanding poured over him like a warm waterfall. He sighed.

  “That’s better.” Jones propped his club against a nearby shelf and ambled to his desk chair. “Sit.”

  Albert stumbled to the guest chairs in front of the desk and fell into one of them.

  Jones sat in his leather executive chair and crossed his legs. “Your work is uninspiring, Albert.”

  Despair. A lump formed in his throat.

  “But last night, you soared to new heights.”

  Redemption! He’d throw himself at the man’s feet if the desk wasn’t in the way.

  “At first, I didn’t know how an entry level loser like you managed to talk a woman of Burke Martin’s caliber into…well…into giving you the time of day. But then I gave it some thought. Burke is into some…let’s call them unique hobbies, shall we? Obviously, you have no idea about all that. She’s a clever girl. So very, very clever. So, perhaps, she used you to get to me. Then again, maybe the fates brought her to me. Either way, I see this as the opportunity of a lifetime.”

  His hypnotic gaze never left Albert’s. “I’m going to reward you, Albert, for bringing this horrifically divine creature into my inner sphere.” He leaned forward with his elbows on the desk. “I want her mind, but oh so much more. I want those who love her to know that I own her and there is nothing they can do about it. Coleum exists to slap men such as them in the face. They can fight their little battles here on earth, but once we launch that ship, we’ll be untouchable.”

  Albert shifted in his chair, uncertain if he was expected to say something.

  Jones lowered his voice, “I’m going to tell you a secret, Al. Only the most privileged in this building know this.”

  Sweat dripped into Albert’s eye. He swiped it away with his shirt sleeve.

  “By myself, I couldn’t have done a fraction of this. I had a magical experience. Umbra contacted me, chose me, through the most unusual means you can imagine. When that happened, a power unlike anything you can imagine gripped me. It changed me. It turned me into a god, Albert. Do you believe that?”

  It didn’t even strain the bonds of reality, as far as Albert was concerned. He nodded, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he’d whimper like a baby.

  “I’m going to make you a god, too. You can have anything you want, all you have to do is bring Burke Martin to me.”

  “Take us on the ship,” Albert blurted.

  Jones smiled. “My pleasure.”

  Albert’s heart hammered hard in his chest. Tears burned his eyes. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Jones’ smile grew. “I know.” He pressed a button on his desk and shades rolled down over the windows, casting the room into shadow-filled semi-darkness.

  A flash of movement caught Albert’s eye, something cold touched the back of his neck, and then a peacefulness ten thousand times stronger than he’d felt coming from Jones filled him from the inside-out. Certainty rose up in him. Power, he thought. This is what it feels like to have real power.

  Without really meaning to, he told Jones, “I’m your servant.”

  “Go get me what I want,” Jones said. “Enjoy yourself along the way.”

  Albert didn’t mind doing what he was told, but in a far corner of his mind he had just enough of himself left to feel a smidge of concern when his body stood up and left the room without him making the decision to do that.

  Chapter Twenty

  Richard

  A rare day full of glorious sunshine had shattered the usual stretch of cold, soggy, November weather. The colors of the leaves remaining on the trees were as vivid as the paint in any surrealist landscape and the glory of the autumn world took Richard’s breath away. He relished the chance to be outdoors in the fresh air on just such a day. Checking the fluids on the Cadillac was no chore, but a privilege. DaVinci could only wish to have created anything so beautiful as a ‘59 Caddy. Richard slipped the dipstick back into place with careful reverence so as to let the machine feel and understand the awe and respect in his heart.

  Burke watched from the canvas swing that hung from a low branch of a nearby sugar maple. She let her feet slide through the dry leaves, causing them to rustle in a pleasant way that brought to mind all the best things about autumn in the Midwest.

  “I don’t get it,” she said. “Stanley was the one who all but forced us to come here and now he wants to high-tail it out of town.”

  The light streamed through the leaves above her, creating shadows that slipped across her smooth skin.

  Richard wiped his hands on a grubby blue towel and popped the cap on a gallon of washer fluid. “He’s worried about you.”

  “Haven’t I shown some level of competence? Besides, there’s still something afoot at Coleum, right? Dinner didn’t accomplish much, but it did prove that. Plus, there’s the mystery of the thing creeping around this neighborhood at night.”

  Washer fluid splashed over the opening in the reservoir. He adjusted and growled, frustrated that the weight of a one-gallon jug of fluid caused such a trembling in his hands. Old age was as annoying as a mosquito in the dark. Just when you forgot about it, it came buzzing in your ear again.

  “We’ve never run from anything before,” Burke pressed. “Why should we run from this?”

  Richard finished up and snapped the cap back into place. “T
he fact that Stanley Kapcheck says it’s time to run ought to be enough to make you just about as cautious as a burglar walking on a tin roof in cowhide boots.”

  She caught a leaf between her slim fingers and started shredding it into yellow and orange confetti. She smiled a tiny, knowing grin. “Grandpa, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you respect Stanley’s opinions.”

  He let the hood slam shut with a satisfying thwack of solid metal latches. “Stanley Kapcheck is a fine hunter. I respect him in that. In everything else, he’s a wrinkled up, over-stuffed—”

  The front door of the house swung open and Stanley emerged in tight jeans, a leather jacket, and black sunglasses. James Dean, dried up like an old raisin. Idiot.

  “Good morning!” Stanley called. “A glorious day to head out on a new adventure, don’t you think?”

  “I’m not quite finished with the current adventure,” Burke said. Shadows from the tree played tricks over her face, making it impossible to read her expression, but there could be no mistaking her tone of voice.

  “I’m afraid you are,” Stanley said. “At times, prudence calls us to cut the line.”

  “I’m not fully clear as to why you think this is one of those times,” Burke said.

  Richard finished packing away the bottles and tools and wiped his hands again. “I’ve got to agree with the kid. We’ve heard a bunch of this and that but we ain’t done a darn thing but jump at shadows.”

  “That’s exactly it, my friend. I don’t know what we’re facing, and my instincts tell me we are woefully unprepared.”

  The whirring of an electric motor interrupted the conversation. A little hybrid pulled up to the curb and shut off. Albert stepped out, his ugly loafer squishing into a puddle of muck that had formed in the leaf-strewn road. His grin showed every one of those awful, sharky teeth. “Good morning! It’s a lovely day!” The morning sun shone at a sharp angle, stretching their tall, slim shadows across the front yard.