hand of hate 01 - destiny blues

by Sharon Joss

  I remembered my promise to Rhys to accompany him to the bat cave after I dropped Mina off at school. That is, if a kiss and a promise were the same thing. I recalled the buttery feeling he’d left in my legs, and I was pretty sure that it was. Well, one look at my face would put an end to those ideas.

  Gingerly, I dressed in jeans and boots and a tee shirt, and immediately started to sweat. Although we’d had a few sprinkles yesterday, the impending storm was holding off and the humid air wasn’t going anywhere until it broke.

  I looked around for my gang of followers and frowned. I now had more than a dozen djinn. Their presence weighed on me. I wanted to get rid of them in the worst way, but somehow they’d dropped lower on the priority list. Thankfully, the oil Rhys had given me made a big difference. I hardly even noticed the smell. I sighed and headed into the kitchen.

  Mina and I were halfway through our bowls of soggy cereal when someone pounded on the door downstairs. We both jumped, and she started to shake. “Don’t answer! Maybe they’ll go away.”

  I forced myself to remain calm in order to reassure Mina. Poor thing hadn’t asked for any of this.

  “No worries.” I kissed her and eased her back into her chair. “It’s probably just my landlady,” I lied. I went downstairs and checked the peephole before answering. Sheriff Reynolds in uniform and two suits squeezed together on my porch.

  Oh great. The Winslows must have called the cops after all. I opened the door.

  “Can I help you,” I asked.

  Sheriff Reynolds stared at my shiner like I was some kind of monster. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Nothing. Just an accident.”

  “The mayor said you weren’t hurt.”

  Oh lord, give me strength. He was referring to the scooter crash. I blushed to my toes. “No, this happened yesterday. I um, did this myself. Walked into a door.”

  Three cop faces stared back at me and obviously not one of them believed me.

  “Is this a social call?” I asked, as innocently as I could. “I wasn’t expecting visitors. I need to get my niece to school this morning.”

  One of the suits took his identification out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me.

  “Matilda Blackman? I’m Agent Thomas, and this is Agent Duran. May we come in?” Their identification said FBI.

  “What? I already talked to the other agent. He told me there’s nothing more I need to do.”

  The three men looked at each other.

  “What are you talking about?” Reynolds asked. He had dark circles under his eyes and his clothes looked like they’d been slept in. I was surprised to see him on duty so soon after losing his wife, but I supposed no one would have dared to keep him out of the investigation. “Who did you talk to?”

  “Agent Porter,” I said. “He already debriefed me. Don’t you guys talk to each other?”

  The two FBI guys smirked and I gathered that they didn’t think much of Paranormal Control Officer Porter.

  “We’re here on official business, Miss Blackman,” said Duran. “May we come in?”

  “What’s this about, Sheriff? I really need to get going.”

  “We’re trying to locate Lance McNair. I understand he’s your brother?”

  My heart skittered and I eased to the porch, closing the door behind me. I didn’t want Mina to hear anything before I knew what was going on.

  “What’s happened?”

  “Do you know where he is,” Duran said.

  “Is he here?” asked Thomas.

  “Um. I don’t know where he is. What’s happened?”

  “Nothing too serious, we have a few questions for him that’s all.”

  “We’re following up on a tip,” said Thomas.

  “What’s this about?”

  “We’re investigating several murders in the area. Your brother’s name has come up.”

  The realization of why they were here finally hit me. I grabbed the porch railing, my heart beating about a million miles an hour.

  “You guys are with the Night Shark taskforce.”

  “He hasn’t been at work for several days.”

  Two days, and they send out the FBI? “There’s some kind of mistake. He’s been out of town for a couple of days. I’m babysitting his daughter. You’re wrong about Lance.”

  “He was seen loitering near one of the dump sites. We’d like to talk to him.”

  “You mean at the Spanky Kleen? You’ve been talking to Heckle and Jeckle.” How could they even think of Lance as the killer? “This is ridiculous. My car had a flat, and Lance helped me change the tire. End of story.”

  The men exchanged glances. Had I said the wrong thing?

  “Have you seen or spoken to him since?”

  “Hey, you’re making a big mistake. I need to go now. Mina’s going to be late.”

  Duran handed me his card. “Please tell him to get in touch with us as soon as possible. We’d like to talk to him.”

  “Of course.” I nodded and took the card. “I’ll have him call you.” I went back inside and locked the door, trying to catch my breath. I’d told more lies in the last three days than in my entire life.

  CHAPTER 18

  I dropped Mina off at school, but couldn’t shake the hunch that she was in danger. She would be safer in her classroom than with me, but the thought of leaving her bugged me anyway. I checked out my black and purple reflection again in the rear-view mirror. Ugh. Well, at least I had a good excuse to get out of this little caving adventure. Rhys didn’t need me, anyway. One look at my face would be enough. Then I could hang around the school until Mina got out, a much better choice.

  The memory of Rhys’ kiss came back to me. Further exploration in that area was tempting, but I hadn’t actually promised Rhys I would go. He had kissed an implied agreement out of me, but he wouldn’t be expecting me to actually show up, would he? True, the memory of that sort-of promise was hard to forget, and gawd amity, he smelled good. Anyway, my ribs were killing me and I still had oozy scabs all over my knees, so crawling around in some dark bat cave with the mage wouldn’t be pleasant.

  I zipped into the alley behind Mystic Properties and parked next to a shiny black pickup. I got out of the car just as Rhys emerged from the back door of the shop. He carried a box full of gear, and did a double take when he got a glimpse at my shiner.

  I blushed, feeling self-conscious.

  Rhys came closer to inspect the damage. His face darkened as he examined my bruises, but didn’t ask.

  “I’m not going. You don’t need me anyway.”

  “Bullshit.” He walked past me and lowered the tailgate. “I can’t go without you. I can’t see the djinn. If they’re loose, I need you to spot them.”

  Oh, right. “You can sense them, though.”

  He threw the box into the back, slammed the gate; then came around and jerked open the passenger door for me.

  “What are you mad at?” I didn’t want to go, but backing out was not going to be as easy as I thought. “How did this become my problem?”

  His jaw twitched. “Does Mina see your djemons?”

  I gasped. “How did you know?”

  “You are not the only person in Shore Haven who is attracting djinn, Mattie. If Mina can see your djemons, chances are she’s also got enough juice to attract djinn of her own. These loose djinn represent a serious problem for the whole community. How long before Mina, or any other intuitive, start to name them? To use them? Anyone with a manifested demon is considered a terrorist in the eyes of the federal government. Demon masters don’t get tried in the courts Mattie; they’re executed. Is that what you want?”

  Icy cold ran through my veins. “We have to do this, don’t we?”

  He gave me a curt nod. “Your chariot awaits, my lady.”

  I sighed, and forced myself to clamber up into the cab. Why men always seemed to drive giant trucks made no sense to me. I fastened my seatbelt.

  “We need to make a quick stop; I’ve got somethi
ng I need to take care of.” He started the engine.

  “No, you’re right. This can’t wait. We do the cave thing first.”

  “This stop is on the way.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “The hospital. They’ve got something trapped in the basement.”

  “What?”

  “We’ll soon find out.”

  “Why did they call you?”

  “You sure ask a lot of questions.”

  Interesting.

  We drove down Third and headed toward the hospital. Third is the main thoroughfare running through Shore Haven’s commercial district. The street veers to the east, off Seneca, and dead-ends at the Russ Meat Packing Plant in Germantown, at the north end of Shore Haven. The town founder, Helmut Russ bought much of the land in the 1700s and built a meat packing plant where Sentinel Hill meets the water.

  St. Agrippa’s Hospital sat on the corner of 5th and St. Julian, which served as the dividing line between Shore Haven and Germantown. The hospital sat across from St. Peter’s Catholic Church, and was one of the oldest buildings still standing in the Shore. Not on a par with more modern hospitals, but the Russ family donated the land, and the family still funded maintenance for the place.

  We parked in the visitor lot. Out of the back of the truck, Rhys grabbed a pole with a noose on one end, and a small cat carrier, which he handed to me.

  I nodded toward the pole thingy. “What’s that?”

  “Snake stick.”

  “They have a snake?”

  He didn’t answer and had longer legs than me, so I had to hurry to catch up. My ribs protested.

  Curiosity gnawed at me. “I’m not scared of snakes or anything, but I wasn’t exactly expecting to be wrangling anything today, that’s all.”

  I hustled through the main lobby after him and we waited for the elevator. People eyed Rhys and the snake stick, me and my black eye and crate, and kept their distance. Nobody got into the elevator with us, so our ride down to the 3rd level basement went uninterrupted.

  The janitor is waiting for us,” Rhys said. “All you need to do is hold the carrier for me and be ready when I drop the whatever inside.”

  The doors opened, and we faced an overheated forest of ductwork, pipes and furnace. Rhys seemed to know where he was going and turned to the right, heading down an aisle framed by massive plumbing and machinery. In the distance, heavy metal music screamed over the drone of generators. Dim fluorescent lighting gave the place a hellish glow.

  A few turns later, we arrived at a tiny office where a guy sat with his feet up on his desk, reading a car-racing magazine. The guy did a double take when he saw my purpled face and turned down the tunes.

  “Hey, that was fast.” His shirt had an oval patch with the name, Terry, embroidered in red letters.

  Rhys introduced me. “This is my assistant, Mattie.”

  “Hi,” I said, and like a dope, held up the cat crate. He nodded, and led us through the warren of the engineering room to a metal stairwell, which led to a lower level.

  “It’s not a rat,” he said to Rhys. “And something has been chewing on the electric cables. I’m worried about fire.”

  We followed Terry down the stairs to the sub-basement. The thrum of machines seemed quieter here; the lighting dimmer too. We walked past row after row of metal file cabinets.

  “I was afraid it was going to chew its foot off and get away, so I covered him with a garbage can.”

  “Good thinking.” Sure enough, at the end of the row, a metal garbage can sat upended on the cement floor with a big hunk of iron pipe sitting on top.

  Terry slapped the side of the can, and the trapped creature inside responded with the sound of scrabbling and hissing.

  Terry grinned. “Pretty pissed off, huh.”

  “Thanks Terry. We’ll take it from here.”

  “Fine by me. Swing by the office on your way out. I’d like to know what it is.”

  Rhys nodded, and Terry didn’t wait around. I began to worry about what was under the garbage can.

  “So is it a snake or a rat or what?”

  Rhys removed the heavy piece of pipe, holding his hand firmly on top of the can as the scrabbling inside increased. “We’ll wait a few minutes for it to calm down a bit.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “You worried?” He grinned.

  “No. Maybe. A little.”

  We waited for the angry sounds underneath the can to quiet down. He motioned me a few feet back, and with the snake stick in one hand, he tipped up the edge of the can just a teeny bit.

  Instantly, a black nose and a pair of needle-like claws appeared and scrabbled to get out.

  I gasped. “What the hell is that,” I asked, but I already knew the answer.

  “Get ready.” He tilted the can, and the jaws and head of the thing squeezed through the gap. Rhys lowered the rim, trapping the head just behind the ears. The ugly thing hissed and wiggled, but Rhys applied enough pressure to hold it in place. He slipped the noose-end of the pole over the creature’s exposed head.

  I opened the plastic crate, and moved as close as I dared, holding the open cage in front of me.

  “Set the carrier on the floor with the door open at the top,” he instructed. “Get those gloves on, and have the towel ready. When I pull him out, he’s going to be fighting mad. I want you to wrap the towel around him, and help me lower him into the crate. When I tell you, shut the door and lock it, but not until I tell you.”

  I nodded and did as instructed. The thing screeched like a banshee, its anger directed at the towel in my hands.

  “Here we go.”

  Rhys pushed back the trashcan, and lifted the thing up by the noose around its neck. The creature was a dusky black in color, save for a ring of yellow around his black pupils, and a few bristly grey sprouted hairs, but the overall impression was nasty opossum road-kill. The creature thrashed furiously, whipping the air with a long naked tail, a large rattrap attached to one of its front feet. Its fury filled the basement.

  “It’s not going to fit,” I said.

  “Sure he will.” He pinned the creature’s head to the cement floor and its squeals escalated to an ear-splitting volume. “Throw the towel over his back and grab him. Hold him down.”

  Yikes. Adrenaline pounded through me. I took a deep breath and flung myself on top of the thing, trapping it mostly between the towel and my hands. Two-inch claws and serrated teeth tried to reach me. If I let go, no doubt I’d be slashed to ribbons. The tail whipped around frantically, as the body squirmed beneath the towel. With one hand, I gripped the thing across the back, just in front of the front legs, and with my other, I grabbed it just above the tail at the haunches. It was so thin, I had no problem holding it securely. The feverish heat of its rage soaked through the towel.

  “I’ve got him.”

  “You ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  He lifted the thing up by its head with the pole, and I followed his movements, holding the writhing body over the open carrier door.

  “Tail first,” he said.

  Stiff-armed, I forced the lower half of the thing into the plastic crate. I let go, and Rhys pushed the rest of the creature inside, holding it down with the snake stick. I closed the wire door against the catch pole.

  “Okay, be ready to slam it, I’m going to loosen the noose.”

  “I got it.”

  I kept the pressure on the door, and Rhys released the noose and drew the pole out of the box. I slammed the door and turned the lock mechanism. We both stepped back as the thing continued to fight and scream.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Whew, I’m glad that’s over.” My arms stung where the naked tail slapped welts across my bare skin.

  Rhys picked up the towel that had fallen to the floor and draped it over the opening to the carrier. The opossum-thing quieted down right away.

  “Bollocks.” Rhys stared at a spot over my head. An identical opossum creature glared at us
from on top of one of the file cabinets, two rows away.

  I flinched. “Look, there’s two of them.” I pointed to another one, peering out at us from end of the row. “We’re going to need more, um stuff.”

  Rhys swore and picked up the cat carrier, being careful to keep the towel over the front. I followed, carrying the snake pole and the rest of our gear. We stopped by Terry’s office on the way out, and Rhys told him that we’d be back to set more traps. Terry paled, and nodded.

  “I suggest you keep people out of the records room for a while,” Rhys said.

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. What are they?” Terry’s question echoed my own.

  “Rats,” Rhys answered. “A non-native species from Micronesia. Don’t know how they got here, but maybe somebody’s pet, or escaped from the zoo.”

  “You’re saying they’re somebody’s pets?”

  “Oh sure. People are crazy for these exotics. Then they get tired of them, and let them loose. Don’t worry, we’ll get ‘em taken care of for you, no problem.” Rhys headed toward the elevator, and I scurried along behind, not wanting to stay a minute longer. The sounds of machinery drowned out Terry’s protests.

  We rode the elevator in silence, ignoring the stares of the curious as we headed through the reception area and out to the truck. Rhys put the cat carrier on the bench seat between us. I waited until we exited the parking lot before I said anything.

  “That is not a rat.”

  “And we have a winner,” he said, grinning at me. “Care to try for double Jeopardy, where the prizes are even bigger?”

  “It’s a materialized djemon, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “So this thing has a name? Could it hurt someone? Could it kill?”

  Rhys didn’t answer right away. “Well, they’re quick and stealthy; they have unnatural strength for their size. This one and the others we saw are still pretty small, but I think a sedated person in a hospital bed wouldn’t have much of a chance.”

  The thought gave me the shivers. “Remind me to never wind up at St. Agrippa’s. Why did they call you?”

  “Mystic Properties has a contract with the hospital for vermin control. You did a good job back there, Mattie. Thanks.”