Hardboiled: Not Your Average Detective Story (The Lillim Callina Chronicles Book 5)

by J. A. Cipriano

  “What am I to tell his parents? He is under my protection.” He shook his head. “I can’t tell them that their son is the Dunewalker. That will not go over well.”

  “Who is the Dunewalker?” I asked, seizing on the title because it had never come up in my years at the Dioscuri Academy, and unlike most people, I had actually taken all three Advanced Werewolves classes.

  “I’m not surprised you don’t know, Dio—Lillim. It is a tale we do not often share with outsiders.” Halcyon reached out to open the door to the car. “But suffice to say. He is well beyond your reach, but do not despair. Thes Mercer will not be your problem anymore.”

  He exited the car, shut the door, and began walking toward Custody. She was sitting on a bench, waiting, her fingers digging into her pants so hard that I thought she might rip the leather. Her eyes snapped up to him, widening as he approached.

  They began to speak, and Custody looked more and more agitated. I could tell she wanted to yell at Halcyon, but at least from here, it seemed like she kept her cool. That is, until he pointed to me. She exploded into a fit of flailing and raging. Halcyon shrugged at her and walked off, leaving her to stare at me in a huff.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked as she swung open the door and fixed me with a look that made me want to crawl under the seat and hide.

  “Peachy,” she replied, sliding into the car and slamming the door.

  “It doesn’t seem peachy.” I cocked an eyebrow at her as I grabbed the seatbelt and snapped it into place before she could take off. With my luck and her driving, she’d crash, and I’d fly through the windshield and get impaled on a garden gnome.

  “It’s not really peachy,” she snapped, eyes laser focused on the road as she put the car into gear and stomped on the gas pedal. We rocketed forward to destinations unknown. “That’s just a thing people say.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “Okay… so where are we going?” I asked, glancing out to see us moving by traffic in a blur. The tiny Jetta cut into a street as horns blared, the back of the car shuddering violently as she spun the wheel. The sound of screeching tires filled my ears as the car righted itself and took off down the highway.

  “First, we’re dropping him off,” she said, jerking her head toward the back seat which seemed incredibly unsafe given the incredible speed we were doing. The Jetta weaved around a black BMW, the bumper coming so close to us that I braced myself for impact.

  “Could we maybe slow down?” I asked. “I’m not used to being in a car going this fast.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m driving. If you don’t like it, tough.”

  “I’m getting the sense that you don’t like me very much,” I said, grabbing onto the handle above the door for stability as the car screeched around another curve.

  “You threw me in a pool, got my ex-boyfriend’s soul stolen, and lost my brother in Ancient Egypt,” she snarled, the words coming out in a sort of half growl. “Give me one reason why I should like you.”

  “I’ll admit, I’m sort of an acquired taste.” I swallowed as we weaved around a six year old girl on a pink bike. “But the way you’re driving is going to kill us.”

  “Kill you maybe. I’ll heal.” She was still staring straight ahead, and while I knew she was technically correct, I couldn’t tell if she was making a joke or not.

  “If that’s a joke, it isn’t funny,” I said.

  “Okay.” She stomped on the brake, her right hand whipping out to pull the e-brake at the same time. The car shuddered, skidding to a stop in a cloud of black smoke.

  “Put him in his bed,” Custody said, still not looking at me. “His parents won’t be home for a while. They’ll just think he’s sleeping. That will give us about a day or so to figure out what to do.”

  “There’s nothing to do. He won’t wake up until his soul is returned.”

  She turned on me like a snarling tigress. Her mouth was open, her teeth sharp and dangerous as wolfish-yellow swirled around the edges of her irises. “I’m aware of that! However, when was the last time he ate or drank? If someone doesn’t get him to a hospital, his body will die long before Thes frees his soul.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” I said, looking away from her as heat filled my cheeks. I was suddenly incredibly embarrassed, so much so, that I didn’t want to look at her. We’d been carrying Connor around like a lifeless puppet for a couple days. I didn’t know if Thes had tried to give him water or anything, but I knew I hadn’t done that. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d drank anything at all.

  “Of course you didn’t. You’re the big bad Dioscuri. Why should you have to worry about trifles like eating and drinking? Your magic sustains you far beyond what a normal human could endure.” She shook her head, brown hair whipping around her as she opened her door. “And my brother… don’t let me start on my brother. He once did a three day backpacking trip with only a protein bar and a package of mints.”

  I smirked. I could totally imagine Thes doing that. If he wasn’t injured, his werewolf metabolism could keep him going for a long time, and like most of the Alpha werewolves, he had probably trained to do just that. “You haven’t undergone Alpha training, have you?” I asked just as she shut the door.

  “No. I’m not an Alpha,” she said as the door shut, leaving me alone in the deafening silence of the car. The back door opened before I had even moved, and she gathered Connor up into her arms.

  “I appreciate your help,” I said, unclicking my seatbelt and turning toward her as Connor’s shoes hit the pavement outside.

  “Uh huh.” She was dragging him toward the house, her arms under his armpits so his back was pressed to her chest when the shot rang out. Custody staggered as blood and thicker bits sprayed out her back. Connor slipped from her arms and hit the ground in a heap.

  Chapter 18

  I was out of the car as the second shot took Custody in the left shoulder, spinning her around in a flare of silver starlight. My breath caught in my throat. The shooter was using silver ammunition. That was bad. It meant he was prepared. Custody hit the ground hard, trying to crawl away, but her limbs didn’t seem to be working right. There was no way she was going to get to cover in time.

  I spun toward the sound and spotted a glimmer from the rooftop of the house across the street. Without thinking, I reached back and ripped Haijiku from its sheath, and time seemed to slow down. I called upon the black blade’s power, and the flitting of wings filled my ears like a raging crescendo. I leapt, energy spilling from me in veiny black sheets.

  My feet slammed into the red tile roof, shattering the adobe under the force of my impact. The sniper fired again, but I must have thrown off his shot because the sound of breaking glass filled my ears. He spun toward me with the rifle, pulling the bolt back to prepare for another shot. His face was hidden behind a black ski mask and goggles that made him look more like a strange bug creature than a person.

  The sniper fired at me, the shot going wide, and I was pretty sure he’d planned on the shot distracting me enough for him to put one in my chest. It was a good plan because a bullet would kill me. Fortunately, that didn’t happen. My knee came up, smashing into his jaw and throwing him onto his back with a horrific crack. The gun went flying, skittering across the roof.

  “What are you doing?” I cried, leaping on top of him and putting Haijiku to his throat.

  “Killing wolves,” he said, voice jumbled by some sort of modification device. “I don’t want any trouble from you guys. I’m licensed.”

  “I. Don’t. Care.” The words seethed out of me, cold and uncaring as emotion melted from my face. Was this guy really going to try justifying himself because he was licensed to hunt werewolves? As though they weren’t people too? “Tell me why you’re shooting at my friend before I do something to you, you’ll wish I hadn’t.”

  “You should care,” he replied, hand reaching down toward some
kind of weapon on his leg. “I have a writ of approval from Mitsoumi Mawara himself.”

  I laughed, a horrible angry sound that gushed up from me before I could stop it.

  “What… what’s so funny?” the man asked as his hand slid over the handle of what looked like a pistol.

  “Mitsoumi Mawara is dead. Even his successor is dead. Even if the Dioscuri hadn’t been disbanded, you’re like three people removed from your writ mattering.” I didn’t mean my voice to be as cold as it was.

  “What are you talking about? My renewal isn’t up for another year.” His hand closed around the grip of the weapon. “It doesn’t matter who is in charge.” He was technically correct, but if he was really in the right, why was he reaching for a weapon?

  “Don’t,” I said, nodding toward his hand. “You’re not faster than me.”

  He tried anyway, yanking the gun free and almost getting it up a fraction of an inch before Haijiku lashed out like a striking serpent. The blade cut cleanly through his wrist, severing his hand in a spray of crimson. His arm continued to move up for another moment before he even realized what happened.

  He screamed, the sound filling my ears as his gun clattered uselessly to the roof. My stomach sank, not because I was upset I’d had to do it, no… it was because I didn’t care that I’d done it. That scared me a little. It should have scared me more.

  I spared a glance over my shoulder. Custody was moving, trying to gather herself up on the lawn below. Already I could hear sirens in the distance, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be here when they arrived. I turned back to the man just as he lunged at me, blood still streaming from his wounded limb, good hand gripping a black Ka-Bar that reminded me of the one I’d jabbed into Masataka’s throat only a few weeks ago.

  I dodged as the blade came out, and hit him in the stomach with my elbow, knocking the wind from him. He wheezed but didn’t drop the knife.

  “You’re going to die long before you kill me.” I told him, gesturing toward his wrist with Haijiku. The sword throbbed in my hand, begging me to release it as crimson butterflies flitted across its black blade. “You’re moments from bleeding to death. Tell me who did this, and I’ll save you.”

  “You’re going to kill me anyway,” he replied. “And even if you don’t, my contract owner will kill me if I don’t finish this.”

  “It’s just not going to happen,” I said, getting to my feet and grabbing the collar of his bulletproof vest. I jerked him onto his feet, and he stumbled forward toward the edge of the roof. I let go, and he started to fall. “Who hired you and what were you supposed to do?” I asked, grabbing him by the back of the vest so that he was suspended over the edge.

  When he didn’t respond, I added, “You’ll survive the fall. And judging by the sound of the sirens, they’ll get here in time to patch you up. You won’t die. You’ll be stuck in some hospital waiting for whoever it is to come and kill you.” I smiled though he couldn’t see it. “Does that sound like fun?”

  “Okay.” He turned his head toward me and dropped the knife. It fell down and struck the driveway below with a clang. Then, before I realized what he’d done, he pulled the pin from a grenade on his belt.

  I let go of him, throwing myself backward as an explosion tore through the air. Fire and debris sprayed around me as the house shuddered and began to collapse. The back of my head struck the roof, and black spots perforated my vision. There was a loud boom and flame came rippling out of the collapsing structure. The roof swayed, and I slid toward the flames, unable to do much as my hearing distilled into a sharp ring.

  I lashed out with Haijiku, stabbing it through the roof as it collapsed beneath me. I fell, my arms wind-milling moments before I struck a baby grand piano hard. A horribly off key crescendo split the air as things inside me cracked. My teeth snapped together, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. Searing pain shot through me as I rolled to the floor and scrambled under the piano for cover. Flaming debris rained down on me as I tried to suck in a breath but it was so hard to do I almost couldn’t manage.

  I crawled to my feet as another explosion ripped through the wall in front of me, throwing me and the piano backward in a spray of fire and plaster. I tried to call on my power, but instead, my hip struck the piano as we toppled through the air. I hit the grass outside half a second before the piano smashed down an inch from my face, gouging a hole in the once pristine lawn.

  My breath whooshed out of me, little tweety birds flapping around my head. The piano teetered toward me for a second and fell over in the other direction, slamming down with a cacophony of sound. I tried to suck in a breath of relief, and it was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I wasn’t sure if anything inside of me had broken, but if it hadn’t, it sure felt like it had.

  I craned my head to the side as the first of the police cars pulled up, skidding to a halt in front of the house. Two officers were out in an instant, one sprinting toward me as the other screamed into his radio. I got to my hands and knees and tried to stand, but all I managed to do was vomit on the grass.

  The officer grabbed me around the waist a moment later and dragged me backward half a step as another explosion rocked the house. It tossed both of us backward like rag dolls. Haijiku went flying from my hand, skittering off across the pavement and into the street as more police cars showed up. I staggered to my feet, stumbling toward my katana as a brown sedan car pulled up, driving over the blade and wedging it beneath its front tire.

  I swayed, wobbling as my vision split to double for a second before snapping back into place. I reached out toward the sword, willing it to come. It began to wiggle, squirming beneath the vehicle like a writhing worm as the edges of my sight faded to black. The sedan’s door swung open and Lang stepped out. He grinned at me. Only it wasn’t Lang because angry, octopean eyes glared at me from his forehead. It was the warlock. As if I didn’t have enough going on right now…

  “Hello, Lillim,” he said, kneeling down and jerking Haijiku free from beneath the tire. “I’ve been looking for you.” I yanked at the weapon with all my power, but I might as well not have bothered for all the good it did. “You did a good job hiding. I haven’t been able to find you for a few days.”

  So he hadn’t known the magician had sent Thes and me to Tartarus? If that was true, then he and the magician weren’t working together. That was bad. Two high-hitting supernatural bad guys in one town? Talk about overkill.

  An ambulance pulled up behind him and paramedics burst out like currying ants. They sprinted over to Connor and Custody, swarming over them like ants as Lang took an ominous step toward me. No one seemed to notice as he leaned my katana against his shoulder. Why was no one paying attention? This place was swarming with cops. Someone should be doing something.

  “Come!” I growled, and winter white roses sprang up in the grass around me. Haijiku throbbed in his hand. Rose vines spread across the ground between us, chewing up the distance between us in a landslide of thorns and brambles.

  “No,” he said, waving Haijiku through the air, and as he did so, butterflies began to flit through the air, leaping off the blade and flapping pink and purple wings before fading into puffs of smoke. A horrible thought struck me. Was he trying to destroy the Emissary like he had done with Shirajirashii? Was that even possible?

  “I wondered when you’d bring the Emissary into this. Our master thought you had lost Haijiku, but I told him that sooner or later you’d bring the blade to bear.” He grinned, a feverish smile that split his lips from ear to ear. “Turns out I was right.”

  Blue light began to creep along the surface of Haijiku, oozing across its surface like dirty oil. “No!” I screamed, throwing my right hand out toward him. The giant snake god inside me uncoiled itself. Apep rose within me, massive and all consuming. He narrowed his serpentine eyes and struck through me.

  Black smoke erupted from my palm. It hit Lang in the chest and sent him hurtling backward into his car, tatters of burning fabric flitting through th
e air as his shirt caught fire. The metal squealed, denting in the shape of his body. Haijiku fell from his grasp as he tore the burning garment from his body.

  I jerked my hand back, willing Haijiku to me, hoping I wasn’t about to get blown away by the police. Thankfully, none of them seemed to have noticed our little altercation. Whatever Lang had done, it was more than enough to make the other policemen ignore us.

  Haijiku hit my palm as I took a step forward. Its familiar weight chased the darkness from my vision as the fluttering in my mind grew to a raging tornado in moments. Lang smiled up at me, blood leaking from his mouth as though something inside was horribly broken.

  “You can’t kill me, Lillim.” He coughed, spraying bloody saliva into the air. “You can kill this body, but not me. I’m just a passenger.”

  But the Emissary did not agree. Haijiku could kill this guy, here and now. The truth of that flowed into my veins like molten lead, and against my better judgment, I pointed Haijiku at Lang. “Sorry,” I murmured, “but my sword doesn’t think you’re right. Hitobanurei!” Lang’s eyes went wide as butterflies began to flit around me, rising from every surface and swarming toward him.

  Lang threw his arms up as the butterflies slammed into him from every which way, pitching him to and fro under a swarm of wings and gnashing proboscises. His skin began to melt, sloughing from his body as he exhaled a cloud of sparkling silver ether. It burst from his lips, shooting into the sky like an illegal firework. Lang’s body collapsed to the ground like a broken mannequin.

  The Emissary raged in my head, leaping like an angry lion in my mind, white hot claws gouging at my brain as the butterflies, ascended in one huge swarm. They hit the cloud like a tornado, whirling around it so that it was sucked within them. There was a loud pop that reminded me of a huge balloon getting stuck with a needle, and the butterflies were flung backward in a burst of silver flame. They flitted about on broken wings, like bits of burning ash as the Emissary howled like a wounded beast inside my skull.