by Devon Monk
“I forgot you were into farming back then. Why did you even get into farming?”
He grinned. “Life is change. I wanted to try something different.”
“I am never shoveling cow shit again, Rossi,” Leon said. “Or yak shit.”
Rossi waggled his eyebrows, then whispered to me, “We’ll see.”
“No we will not see,” Leon sang out. “If you want cows, find some that shovel their own shit.” Dice hit the table with a little more force, and I bit the inside of my lip to keep from laughing.
It was good to see Rossi giving them a hard time and them dishing it right back. If there was one thing I could count on from each and every supernatural in Ordinary, it was that they liked being here. They liked living a quiet, ordinary life and they didn’t want that to change.
The other thing I could count on with my friends, who were more like family, really, was that they’d rise up to any challenger who came at this town and the people in it.
“Okay, so maybe it’s not the worst possible time. Not circus time,” I said, “but not great either. You heard about the god weapons?”
“Of course.” Most of the Rossis held down full-time jobs. While not being blood related, they were all beneath the protection and laws of Old Rossi himself. They were close knit, and if I were honest, a little gossipy.
“And the ghoul?”
His relaxed posture changed instantly. He straightened and lifted his head, his nostrils flaring like he could smell danger in the air.
“Ghoul?”
“Yes. Hogan said he smelled one. Wait, let me back up. A car fell out of the sky this morning. Did you hear about that?”
“Landed on the beach off 50th. A muscle car. Was there anything in it? Were there injuries?”
“No injuries. We thought it was empty, but a crab crawled out of it.”
“We have a crab ghoul on the loose?”
“No. Yes. Maybe.”
“Well, that clears it up.”
“We took the car to Frigg’s so we could go over it. Odin and Zeus were there too, but only Hogan smelled ghoul on it.”
“Ghouls don’t have a smell.”
“Hogan says they do, and he said they stink.”
“That’s…” Rossi stared off over my shoulder, and I wondered how much information he had stored away in that head of his. “It’s possible. His father was a Jinn and his mother always seemed to have something…” He drifted off again, remembering people I’d never met.
I didn’t even know Rossi knew them, since they hadn’t come to live in Ordinary with Hogan, preferring warmer oceans. “Something mmm about her,” he said.
“Is mmm magic?”
“I never found out. Are you sure Hogan wasn’t the ghoul?”
“No, but Jean was there, and she would have known.”
“Doom twinges?”
“Yeah.”
“So you came here to tell me Hogan’s going door-to-door to smell people?”
“Since it can take on the shape of any biological thing in town? No. He’s going to let me know if he smells it, but Myra’s looking into other ways we might be able to ferret it out.”
“Do those ways involve vampires?”
“Not unless you know something about ghouls I should know.”
“I’ve never met one I liked.”
“Good to know. Made any enemies among them?”
“Briefly. Before I killed them.”
I rubbed at the headache that been building behind my eyes all day. I wondered if I’d had any water today, or if it had been all coffee all the time.
From the slight ringing in my ears, I figured I’d gone full throttle on the java for a full twenty-four.
“How did you kill them?”
He smiled, and this time there was a little fang in it. “Any way that was available. They are not a fully living thing, which is why they prefer raw flesh.”
“Gross,” one of the players muttered.
“Says the man who mainlines sushi,” Senta said.
“Fish aren’t flesh. They’re whatever delicious is.”
I lifted my eyebrows, waiting for Rossi’s real answer.
“Break a ghoul’s neck,” he said, “snap the spine. Smash enough of it, it can’t maintain the shape it’s stolen. There are other things: weapons, spells,” he gave me a nod, “which are much less messy. And of course, much less satisfying.”
“Good to know.”
“Are you assuming it’s still a crab? Because with all the marine life around here…”
“Crab sushi is also what delicious is,” one of the other vamps allowed.
“…and other sushi afficionados,” Rossi went on, “your ghoul problem might take care of itself.”
“But why would it remain a crab? I think that was a disguise it used to sneak into Ordinary.”
“And why is it sneaking into Ordinary?”
“That’s always the question, isn’t it? So many people who are used to hiding show up here and it’s natural for them to think they are safer if they remain hidden. I’d think that was the case here, though dropping out of the sky in a car is the opposite of subtle.”
“But?”
“But the stolen god weapons showed up at the same time. It might not be connected, or it might be we have a ghoul who somehow got into several god realms, nicked powerful weapons, and then left them on doorsteps.”
“Never a dull moment around here, is there?”
“No. So keep your head down. Tell your people we need everyone to keep a low profile until we can get the hunter out of town.”
“You know us. We are the shadow. We are the night.”
More scoffing from the peanut gallery.
Rossi grinned. “Since you’re here, I’d like to make an official request.”
“Okay?”
“I prefer winter weddings.”
“Nope.”
“And not in a church—too stuffy, if you know what I mean.”
“Not listening.” I had the door open.
“Maybe serve those little shrimp cocktail things?”
“Or sushi,” Leon called out.
“Gluten free, certainly,” Rossi went on, “O positive preferred, so I hope you’ll run a keto-friendly blood drive to stock up.”
“Good bye, Rossi. I sure hope a ghoul doesn’t eat you alive.” I slammed the door on his cackling and stomped down the steps to my Jeep.
It was fully dark now, the air wet and salty and clean. I paused and took a deep breath, staring up at the sky where a scatter of stars glittered like ice in moonlight. The wind sifted through trees and brush, and I suddenly thought: this had been my home for all my life. These had been my stars, this had been my wind.
This would always be my home. I understood that when I took up being the Bridge for god powers. I knew I would live no other place than here and took solace in the security of it.
Ryder and I had managed to sneak off for a quick vacation a few months ago. It had been strange to leave this place for so long but after a day or so, it had been wonderful not to worry about everything in Ordinary. Not to worry about everyone.
I knew getting married wouldn’t change how I looked after our town. But it would change something in me. I didn’t know what that was, since I’d never been married, but that commitment, which I’d already given once when I committed my whole soul to this town, frightened me.
“You think it’s safe to be out here all alone?”
I glanced down and searched for the owner of that familiar voice.
A shadow shifted near the dense line of Sitka spruce and stepped toward me.
“I’m not alone. There’s a bunch of vampires who can hear us. You spying on me, Crow?”
“No, just following you around.”
I grinned. “Need a lift?”
He stopped on the other side of the Jeep. “Telling the Rossis about the monster hunter or the ghoul?”
“Both.”
“How’d they take it?�
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“Didn’t even look away from the game.”
“They’re watching a game?”
“Playing one. Complicated-looking board game with a bunch of pieces and dice.”
“Those bastards,” he said. “They’re having a game night and didn’t invite me? I love games!”
“You love cheating at games.”
“Damn right I do, and I do not appreciate them taking that away from me.” He started toward the house, and I was pretty sure he was just putting on a show, but in case he wasn’t I grabbed his arm.
“Let them have a good time without you.”
“They’d have a better time with me.”
“I’d have a better time without you,” I muttered.
“Oh, kitten. So catty.” He grinned. “I heard the monster hunter knows Ryder.”
“Yeah.” I opened the Jeep. Crow walked around to the other side and got in the passenger seat.
“I also noticed them out having dinner together.”
“Yeah.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“I don’t. I want her gone. It bothers me that she’s here right now. What is she hunting? Did it lead her here? Or did she just decide she wanted to find out why Ryder quit the monster-hunting business? Or is it something else?”
“Like maybe she’s the ghoul.”
“It’s possible, but I don’t think she is.”
I started the Jeep and flicked on the headlights. “Home?” I asked him.
“I’d rather go with you. Share the good word about our monster hunter, ghoul thing.”
“You really think she’s the ghoul?”
“Do you?”
And it was weird, but I knew in my gut she wasn’t. For one thing, the ghoul would have to have eaten a part of the real Vivian Dunn to take on the shape of her. And that would mean the real Vivian had been nearby. Or the ghoul had eaten her then driven her car here to get all handsy with Ryder, and…yeah. None of that fit together easily.
Answers to these sorts of problems were usually the most obvious.
“I’ll send Hogan by to smell her,” I said.
“Kinky.”
“He can smell ghouls.”
“Oh-kay,” Crow said. “I didn’t think they had a smell.”
“It’s a Jinn thing, as far as I know.” I dialed Jean. She answered on the first ring.
“…my boss, so I’ll be going now. Hey, Delaney, what do you need?”
“Where are you?” I asked, curious why she was trying to get out of a conversation.
“Banshees,” she explained, as I heard the door to her truck open and shut. “Man, they can talk.”
Crow grinned. “Did they corner you and show you pictures from their latest vacation?”
“Last two vacations. I never want to see another Areosmith cover band concert shot again. Hey, Crow, why are you with Delaney?”
He opened his mouth, but I spoke first. “Because he can’t keep his nose out of our business.”
“Hey,” he said. “But also: True.”
“I need you to have Hogan smell the monster hunter.”
Jean coughed, then laughed. “Did you tell me to have my sweet hunk of a boyfriend go stalker sniff someone?”
“We need to know if she’s a ghoul.”
“We need to know is code for you’re jealous of her spending time with Ryder, isn’t it?”
“No.”
Crow leaned over so his mouth was closer to my phone. “So jealous.”
“I don’t want to wake him up just because you’re being dumb, Delaney.”
I sighed. “I do want to know. I don’t like her but I need to make sure she’s not connected to the car or the ghoul. So far the only person in town who can even tell a ghoul is around is Hogan. I’m sorry to ask him to get up in the middle of his night, but she’s staying at the Sand Garden.
“Okay,” Jean said, easy and happy as always. “We’re paying him to advise us, right?”
“You just want that new video card.”
“Hey, a girl’s gotta game, and if he had a little more cash, he and I could slay the dragon together. Virtually. The real life dragons in town don’t need slaying.”
“Yes, we’ll pay him for his advisory time. Can he get out there tonight?”
“Sure. He might not be asleep yet. I’ll pick him up and swing by.”
“Thanks, Jean.”
I ended the call and flicked on my indicator lights. The streets were empty, and I knew even the main drag through town wouldn’t have all that many people on it. We had a bar and a brew pub and one diner that ran 24/7, but that was it. Even the tourists coming in to see the Ordinary Show Off event Saturday would be calling it a night, either walking the dark beach, or sitting out on balconies and decks enjoying the clean air, and the arc of stars thrown like loose change across the sky.
“Any more info about the door-drop of god weapons yet?” Crow asked as he fiddled with the heat.
“Why? Do you have something I need to know?”
“Oh, I have so many things, but you definitely do not need to know them,” he chuckled.
“About the weapons.”
He grinned, his smile bright in the darkness of the Jeep. Just like I’d thought, the main drag was nearly empty. I turned and started toward Ben and Jame’s house. I knew we were getting close to the full moon, and would need to tell the werewolves to be extra careful with shifting and running in their wolf form.
I could just go to Granny Wolfe’s house, the communal home of most of the werewolves in town and let her spread the word. But Jame and Ben’s place was closer. Since Jame was a Wolfe and Ben was a Rossi, I figured they could relay the info to the rest of the Wolfes.
“I’ve been thinking,” Crow said.
I waited. Crow was many things. A god. A trickster. A glass artist. My uncle, a friend—usually. But there were times when I was reminded that he was old. Very old.
This was one of those times.
He wasn’t pulling on his god power, but he was settled. Centered. Right now, he was as close to godly as I’d seen him in a long while.
“How can a god’s weapon be stolen? This may not surprise you, but it’s a puzzle I’ve worked over for many, many centuries. Each god realm is guarded by the god’s power, from the most minor god to the really big hitters.
“Possessions, knowledge, weapons are locked into those realms. They are an intricate part of those realms, and cannot be easily separated from them. I would have said they can’t be taken without the god’s permission.”
“Would have?”
His finger lifted to the dash again, and this time he just dragged the tip of it across the leather, as if there were dust there and the trail he left behind held all the secrets of the world.
Air blew through the vents, stronger now that he’d messed with it, and I smelled the heat, and the sweet green of plants and flowers, the hint of a nearby wood fire.
They were familiar smells. They were smells that riveted my life into place.
Crow’s cologne mixed with it too, bergamot and cinnamon, and something that reminded me of copper and burning sand.
He took a small breath, then changed his mind and closed his mouth. He shook his head and chuckled softly. “I’m going to tell you something. It’s not a secret but it happened so long ago, it might as well be. Forgotten days, those, but now…now I think it might matter.”
I didn’t dare say anything, not wanting to jostle him out of this mood. An honest Crow, a Crow who would share something he said wasn’t a secret, but probably actually was, was a rarity.
So I waited, and hoped the fast beating of my heart didn’t give me away.
“There are spells,” he started, like he was picking his way through a language he’d never spoken. “God spells.” He glanced at me, but I kept my eyes on the road. I nodded to let him know I was listening.
“I won’t go into details of how they are made, but you should know they are rare. They take a sacrifice from
the god. From the god’s power. Many…” He paused. “There are some deities who refuse to even…explore them. The power a single god spell carries is…” He just huffed a small laugh and drew another line in the imaginary dust on the dash.
“It’s almost unimaginable,” he finally said. “So many of the spells were experimental. Deities asking of their powers: what if? Some of those answers were horrifying. Some were… transcendently beautiful. Some were just very, very dangerous.
“Or tricky. Twisted reality, unraveled time, space hooked like lacework. It’s…well, it’s all very impressive.”
He dropped his hand into his lap and rubbed his palms across his jeans.
“As I said, some gods pursued the spells, the what ifs, and some, finding no use in their complexity, abandoned them altogether.”
We were almost at Jame and Ben’s place. I slowed a little, giving him time, not wanting him to stop telling me the point of the story.
“Someone, I don’t even remember who.” He narrowed his eyes, searching though memories. “Well, I’m sure I could find out, but it would take time. Someone decided the spells shouldn’t be lost. That they might one day do great good. Or great destruction.
“God spells that powerful probably should have never been written down. God spells that powerful should have remained memories, no more than flashy little threads in the massive, chaotic power of any one deity.
“But others, well, the others liked the idea of preserving these co-experiments in power. And so we did.” His hands were still now, each palm braced on his thighs as he looked straight ahead.
I thought he was still looking back through his memories, still seeing things that would probably melt my brain if I got a peek at them.
We were at Jame and Ben’s place, and I parked alongside the curb and killed the engine. The heat lifted from the metal making the hood click and snap as if some creature with needle sharp claws padded across it.
“Where are they written?” I asked softly, not wanting to startle him out of this mood.
“It’s a book. That seems like so little to describe it. The pages are Strange weave, the ink stolen blood. And each spell is cast into the book with a deity’s intention.
“It is unfindable, unbreachable, unusable.”
