Vayl snorted.
Almont ran across the street toward what was evidently his limousine. A slender blond woman wearing a floppy pink hat had paused beside it to dig in her pocket for her keys.
“Get out of my way!” he shouted, trying to shove her aside. She was surprisingly difficult to move given her size and his strength. However something had to give, and it was her hat, which flew backward, giving Vayl a glimpse of her face. Even the big sunglasses could not disguise the familiar curve of her pale cheek, the generous pout of her lower lip.
Vayl smiled at Jasmine’s costume, wondering just how many she had hanging in her closet. But his fantasies must wait for another day. She had pulled a knife from her pocket, the same one he had seen in the cemetery. It was a military-issue weapon that seemed to have been slightly modified for her use, just as her gun had been. Almont had not seen the arming. He had already turned away, leaning forward to open the limousine’s door.
Jasmine timed her attack perfectly. The knife, held in both her hands and swung with all the force of her body behind it, severed his head completely.
Almont’s assistant, standing so close that he breathed in his boss’s smoke, suffered from her backswing. It turned out to be just as lethal. His remains dropped into the road beside his master’s, and moments later no one would have known the knife existed. A redheaded woman shaking out her lovely curls strolled away from the scene as if it were an action shot on a movie lot that she had already seen rehearsed a dozen times. Vayl watched her go.
I want her.
How convenient that he worked for an agency that knew better than to tell him no.
The Golem Hunt
I wiped the sweat off my upper lip and promised myself again that I wouldn’t bolt. The Moses Temple of Champaign, Illinois, had a reputation for beauty. Its ceiling soared overhead, a circular masterpiece of artistry and engineering. Angels spread their wings from an altarpiece so impressive I’d have been inclined to kneel—if it hadn’t been split and splattered with blood. Rows of wooden pews leading up to double podiums tried to warn me, but they were too broken to carry weight anymore. So all I could do was stare down at what was left of Rabbi Gordon Klein and hope I didn’t have to stay so long that puking became an option.
Vayl waited outside. Okay, lurked was probably a better word for it. Avoiding the holy steamies, waiting impatiently for me to get an eyeful, make a judgment, and book. His need for speed appealed on every level. Beyond the sheer pleasure of putting miles between myself and the temple-fulla-gore, the truth was we had a hell of a hunt ahead of us and, from the looks of the remains, a target who wouldn’t politely curtsy before lying down and dying.
I wiped my hands down my face, like that could cleanse the stench of shredded intestines. “Mr. Miller, are you absolutely sure?” I asked, fixing the pale, old council member with as stern a stare as I could manage considering the fact that he was gripping the cracked pew in front of him with both hands so he wouldn’t collapse.
He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. “I was there when Rabbi Klein made the golem. We were desperate. The BAI had sent us a letter.”
I watched him shudder and understood. The BAI didn’t piss around. Once a place of worship received notice, they generally lost a minister or priestess or in this case a rabbi within forty-eight hours. Considered extreme even among extremists, the BAI went after every religion that fell outside their code, which was so narrow even John the Baptist barely squeaked by with a pass.
Knowing this, the recently departed had flipped through the pages of the Sefer Yetzirah, summoned the magic of his ancestors, and brought forth a monster made of—well—Mr. Miller said clay. But either he hadn’t spilled the whole truth or he was really ignorant. The golem’s purpose had been to protect the rabbi and his synagogue. Instead it had gone mad and torn both to pieces. Untainted clay doesn’t break like that.
Since the building didn’t matter as much as the awakening, I said, “I need you to think. Once the golem was formed, did Rabbi Klein put a piece of parchment in its mouth?”
Council member Miller shook his head, his wrinkled throat wagging like a turkey’s wattle. “He walked circles around it, chanting words I didn’t understand. And then he stuck his thumb in the blood of a sacrificial lamb and wrote letters on its forehead.”
“Okay, you’ve been very helpful.” I led him toward the exit. “You can call the cops as soon as we leave. I just have to ask. Why did you phone us first?”
“Vayl was a friend of my mother’s.” The old man’s eyes wavered away from mine. I blinked away the red haze that suddenly rimmed my eyes and ordered myself to listen. “He said if I ever needed him I should call. So…”
“I see.” I turned away.
“He came to the funeral.”
I looked back, surprised to find that only now had tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “Excuse me?”
“When my mother died, Vayl hadn’t seen her in, oh, thirty years. He didn’t have to come. And when he showed up, he was pale and limping, like he’d just been in a car wreck or some such thing. But he came anyway, looking just as young and handsome as he did when I was fifteen. Only by then I was forty-five.” He squinted at me. “I don’t care what he is, miss. He’s always been good to me and mine. If anyone can save this temple, it’s Vayl.”
I nodded, finally understanding why Vayl had said he didn’t want to talk to Abe Miller. Knowing my boss, he’d probably treated the boy like a son. He’d had to watch them bury Abe’s mom, who he might’ve loved. And someday sooner rather than later, he’d follow the same routine for her kid. I was betting recruiters glossed over that little detail of the vampire experience when they went out looking for willing turnees.
I said, “Thank you, Mr. Miller. We’ll be in touch.”
I walked out of the synagogue, careful not to tread in the bloody footprints of Rabbi Klein’s killer, telling myself not to be shaken by the fact that they were twice the size of my own. Joining Vayl at the base of the front door’s access ramp, I said, “The carnage in there is epic. You were right about a golem. The rabbi brought it with the bloody forehead routine.”
We stared at each other, silently rehearsing the coming battle. The word that Klein had spelled on the golem meant “life,” but if we cut off a single letter, it became “death.” So I knew Vayl was seeing the same visual as me. One well-timed swing of the sword sheathed in his cane and we could boogie back to Chicago.
“I may have found something out here as well,” Vayl said. “Come. Take a look.”
Moments later I was running back inside. “Mr. Miller!”
“Please, call me Abe.”
“Did Rabbi Klein usually drive to work?”
“Yes.”
“The only other vehicle in the lot outside is a beige Toyota pickup.”
“That’s mine.” Abe scratched at his chin. “I know the rabbi’s white Jetta was parked in his space when I got here.”
“Well, it’s gone now.”
“All right.” He looked at me blankly.
Dumbass. This is how men of God get transformed into chum.
“The golem must’ve taken it,” I explained. “It’ll want to find water soon.” I waited for the light to turn on. It didn’t. Which meant the rabbi had left him far too deep in the dummy cave. Which was no excuse. This dude was old enough to know he should’ve asked some pertinent questions.
Time for a lesson, Abe.
I said, “Golems need to live near water because they’re constantly washing their hands. Having seen the damage this one caused, I can tell you it’s gonna want to soak its digits for a while.” I slowed down and tried to enunciate better so gramps couldn’t plead I didn’t know on my watch. “Where is your nearest lake or pond?”
“Oh! That would be in Berringwood Park.”
* * *
“Jasmine, I did not realize your Corvette was capable of going this slowly.” Vayl’s fingers, gliding smoothly across my dash, distracted me.
Wow, wouldn’t that feel great against bare skin?
Concentrate, dammit.
I said, “It’s perfectly legal to drive this far below the speed limit.”
Despite suspecting his stare might be burning a hole in my temple, I kept my eyes on the road, an unlit stretch of asphalt winding between thick stands of trees that led to what had once been a private estate. Now it belonged to my alma mater, the University of Illinois. The school used the buildings for its own purposes but shared the grounds with the public. In college I’d been too busy trying to pass Advanced Demonology to visit them. Now I wished I’d come, even once. It would’ve been nice to feel like this was home turf during the upcoming battle.
If I’d thought silence would detour Vayl, I was wrong. He said, “Driving like your great-grandmother will not change the fact that your father was hit by a van. Or that you were not there to stop it.” He paused. I felt him reach out to me, change his mind. “Albert will be fine.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you looked so relieved when I arrived at his hospital room. Admit it, Jasmine. You were at the end of your patience with him.”
I had to force myself to pull my nails out of the steering wheel cover as I remembered. “Would you believe that son of a bitch told his roommate, who is dying of cancer mind you, to cut out the snoring or he was going to rig the TV to broadcast everything in French? I wanted to crawl under the bed! Then he informed me that Shelby, his visiting nurse, gave him foot rubs every afternoon at five p.m. But since I was there instead I’d have to do the honors.”
“Did you?” Vayl had leaned forward. Like he was entertained or something!
“Are you kidding? That old fart’s probably got hooves! Do I look like a farrier to you?”
“Er, no.” He paused long enough that I finally darted a look in his direction. Dammit! Did he have to do that half smile all the time? It made his lips look so…
Nibblicious?
Shut up!!
I pulled a poker chip out of my pocket and began turning it between my fingers. Just like that, I felt myself breathing easier. We’d kill this monster. Then we’d return to the hospital where my dad would recover, despite his age and the diabetes. Because Vayl and I were working this deal as a team. And we never lost. Ever.
But Albert was nearly killed while you were off in Iran playing with demons, I reminded myself. How can you not count that as a loss?
I had no answer for that one.
* * *
Berringwood Park rolls across about two hundred acres of this-is-why-we-live-in-Illinois. Berringwood Manor sits on a putting green of a hill overlooking the dark blue waters of Sophia’s Lake, but not so close as to breed familiarity. So while you could imagine a couple sitting on the veranda speaking to each other over the tops of their pinched noses, you couldn’t visualize them or their kids running toward the swimming area, shucking off their shoes, and screaming encouraging statements to each other like, “Last one in’s a rotten egg!”
Refined restraint hadn’t saved them, though. In the end they’d died, leaving a son with barely enough drive to set foot off the estate. So nobody was surprised when he kicked, too, leaving no heirs to the plantation-style house, the gardens that surrounded it, or that placid azure lake backed by a pine forest so thick even the deer hesitated to wander in it too far for fear of never finding their way out again.
As I drove toward the enormous white building, whose pillars and balconies nicely disguised the fact that it had been repurposed for use as a retreat and lecture center, I said, “Vayl? You called Pete, yes?”
“Of course.”
“You told him to evacuate the grounds.”
“He vowed instant movement.”
“That’s the problem,” I said, my eyes tracking around the parking lot that led to the raised patio, which abutted a wraparound back porch. “I don’t see any.”
Judging by the angles of some of the vehicles in the lot, people had tried to leave, but few had made it. Definitely not the guy who’d plowed into one of the spruces growing along its south end. Maybe the folks who’d collided right behind him. But I doubted it.
I pulled into the lot just far enough to turn around and let my Vette settle on the shoulder. Locking it seemed a little paranoid until I recalled that the golem had managed to get himself here on four wheels, and I’d be damned if he left in mine.
Speaking of which… “Vayl.” I pointed. Rabbi Klein’s Jetta had been driven down an asphalt path and up the three steps that gave access to the patio. Well…partway. The little car had disagreed with the whole notion of stairs, blown both front tires, dumped its rear bumper, and expired with its front rims digging into the top step like a mountaineer stuck on a cliff face. Oil trickled from underneath its back tires like blood.
The French doors that led into the house, torn from their hinges and thrown into a couple of the wrought-iron benches that decorated the patio, marked the golem’s passage. I said, “Do you think it’s still in there?”
Vayl had been striding around the parking lot, searching vehicles. “We should check. I only see parts of people out here, so I doubt anyone inside survived. But—”
A scream. From the other side of the lake.
Vayl held his hand out to me. Already I could feel his powers swirling like snowflakes around my head. I locked my fingers in his and we ran, hunting the monster who was chasing down a defenseless woman.
* * *
We found it crouching beside one of the streams that fed the lake. Washing its hands. The water pooled at its feet before cruising over a series of rocks so smooth, women had been trying to emulate their soft curves for centuries. Tendrils of blood crawled onto those rocks before the stream pounded them away.
Goddammit! We’re too late! I shoved my hand into my right pocket and withdrew the long knife I kept sheathed there.
The golem hadn’t seen us yet. About time we caught a break. Vayl’s camouflage worked on Claymation, but it would only help me while I stood among the trees that lined the stream, within his sphere of influence. Which was about to disappear.
He motioned for me to stay where I was, standing across the water maybe twenty feet from the golem, with nothing between us but a couple of sugar maples, some prickle bushes, a few saplings, and a fallen tree that had been dead so long it was more compost than log.
I watched Rabbi Klein’s creation try to cleanse itself while Vayl moved into position. Even crouched, the creature looked intimidating, a hulking piece of mountain shaped into a man outline. Its lack of eyeballs, nostrils, or a mouth opening made it seem more like a mud slide victim than a serial killer, until I caught sight of the red letters slashed across its forehead. They moved, expanding and contracting like parasitic slugs.
When the golem pulled its hands out of the water and went listening-for-noises still, I didn’t wait to see what had caught its attention. Vayl’s success depended on my ability to distract the son of a bitch. And I knew just how to do it.
“Hey!” I stepped forward, hiding my weapon behind my back.
The golem rose to its feet. Damn, it was fast. And big. Like tall enough to dunk a basketball without jumping, broad enough to fill a doorway and take big chunks out of the trim. And though its hands dripped clear water, its chest, arms, and legs were splattered with blood and gore.
Its head turned, as if it was scanning the area, making me wonder how it located its victims until I spoke up again. “I’m over here, Gumby. Come and get me. Or are you afraid to play with girls who fight back?”
The blood letters jumped like blipping sonar and he turned, zoning in on me as if he could see every detail, from the black leather jacket that covered my Rabid Rabbits T-shirt to my oldest jeans, the ones I’d worn because they were just tight enough to piss my dad off. I rose on the balls of my feet, wishing I’d switched my running shoes for the black boots I usually wore. If this sucker stomped my foot in the melee to come, I’d be the one tapping down the sidewalks with Vay
l’s cane from now on.
The noise the golem made rattled my eardrums, a mouthless howl that reached through my chest, circled my spine, and shook me. I brought out my knife and tried not to gasp as the creature stepped into the water, giving me line of sight to its latest kill, which lay in the brush behind it.
He’d torn her in half. Her torso lay on its side, her eyes staring into mine, empty as jewelry glass. But her expression didn’t let me off the hook. I flinched from the agony. Did my best to ignore the flesh and bone scattered around the blood-soaked ground below her waist like the remains of a lion’s feast.
I took a firm grip on my bolo as the monster rushed me, branches snapping at its approach. “I’m gonna destroy you,” I growled, measuring its reach as it came. I’d have to be quick. Strike and move if I didn’t want to lose vital parts.
When Vayl leaped in front of the golem, I felt actual disappointment. The girl’s death stare had made this fight personal, but now my role was over. I watched my boss twist the blue gem at his cane’s tip, saw the tigers a long-dead artist had carved into its body take flight as the sheath shot into the golem’s chest.
It batted the missile aside like a horse swatting flies.
Vayl sprang forward, his movements so quick they were nearly a blur. The golem’s bellow, though it sounded like it came from the bottom of a well, signaled a hit. When my boss stepped back, I expected the rabbi’s creation to hit its knees because Vayl had sliced away a full quarter of its skull, including the section that held the key letter.
The golem staggered and backhanded Vayl, sending him flying into a thicket of thorns that wrapped around him like man-eating vines.
What the f— No time to finish the thought. It was coming for me. Still functioning…because the letters that should’ve spelled death had disappeared from its forehead. In the space of time it took for the golem to close the distance between us, the librarian in my head bustled to her counter to tick off a few key facts.
Quick Bites: A Short Story Collection Page 3
