Junkyard Druid: A New Adult Urban Fantasy Novel (The Colin McCool Paranormal Suspense Series Book 1)

by Massey,M. D.

  “Careful there, stud—you might commit to something you aren’t prepared to handle.”

  Belladonna grabbed the iron security bars as they swung out, using them to vault herself up on the window ledge. She peered inside before jimmying the lock on the window with a slender, deadly-looking knife, and then pulled the window open.

  “Coast is clear. Looks like an office in here.” She looked back at me and gave a wicked grin as she balanced, catlike, on the sill. “Do try to keep up,” she quipped, slipping out of sight.

  Once inside, I cracked the door and threw a small chrysoberyl sphere out into the hall. The cat’s eye rolled to the wall and hugged the baseboard, continuing to wind its way out to the bar. I waited until it had made a circumference of the place and rolled back inside the office where we hid, stopping at the tip of my boot. I picked the stone up, closed my eyes, and rolled it around between my palms, concentrating to read the sound energy it had recorded as it traversed the area. Within moments a sort of sonar map formed in my head, giving me information on the layout of the place, where the patrons and staff were located, and how much resistance we might encounter if we had to fight our way out.

  I opened my eyes. “C’mon, no one’s in the hall. Let’s go check the other rooms to make sure they don’t have Sabine here.”

  “I could’ve told you that two minutes ago, druid-boy.”

  Belladonna pointed at a TV monitor on the wall with a smirk. The screen was split into four sections, and each displayed feeds from CCTV cameras stationed in various areas of the bar.

  “Fine, next time I’ll let you be in charge of scouting and intelligence.” I pocketed the stone in the interior of my coat and stepped out into the hall. The sounds of bottles clinking and billiard balls colliding echoed from the other end. Out here, the place smelled of cigarettes, sour beer, and desperation.

  I turned quickly and ducked down the hall with Belladonna on my heels. We checked the bathrooms, finding them empty, then came to a door labeled “Employees Only!” It sounded like someone was being tortured inside. I could definitely hear a woman groaning as if she were in pain, as well as someone grunting with exertion. I tried the knob; it was locked. A quick cantrip popped the latch, and I burst into the room.

  The open door revealed a very out of breath Sal, pumping his little buttocks away behind a human woman on her knees, her red pleather miniskirt hiked up around her waist and a pair of neon green thong underwear pulled down to her thighs. They were both in the throes of… something, but I hesitated to call it passion.

  Regardless, it took a moment for the pair to notice they had company. Before they could react, I snapped a picture with my phone. Bells already had a gun on them, and closed the door behind us. I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe, turning toward her with a smirk.

  “Some things just cannot be unseen.” I pointed at the lady. “Miss, cover yourself please. And you—” I gestured at Sal, who was desperately trying to get his pants pulled up. “What would Mrs. Sal and all your mini-Sals think?”

  “Wait just a minute, druid, this ain’t what you think—”

  Belladonna laughed humorlessly. “Oh, it’s exactly what we think. When we walked in, you were laying twenty feet of pipe down on Miss Thing here, three inches at a time. Yeah, you just got caught red-handed, red cap.”

  I turned and fist-bumped her. “Nice one.” She lifted her chin at me smugly.

  I started thumbing through my phone. “Let’s see if we can find Mrs. Sal’s profile on Faebook. Ah, here she is. Aw, Sal Jr. looks just like you.” I held the phone up to show Belladonna, who wiggled her hand in front of her.

  “Meh, looks like he takes after her side of the family.” I leaned in and we shared the screen, closely examining the photo.

  “You’re right. Still has his eyes though.”

  The woman on the floor turned around and smacked Sal. “You told me you were single, asshole!”

  Sal covered up and flinched away. “Cinnamon, I can explain!”

  Belladonna leaned over to me and mouthed a single word behind her hand. Stripper.

  I chose not to pass judgment, since I had more pressing matters to attend. “Sal, bottom line is that with a few keystrokes I can easily ruin your marriage and put you in child support hell. Do you really want that, or can we come to some other arrangement?”

  His shoulders sagged, and he held up his hands, deflated. “Alright, alright! The girl’s not here. Rocko sent Johnny Dibs and Tony G to take her out to some farmhouse outside of town, about two hours ago.”

  I cocked my head and stared at Sal sideways. “Wait a minute—what farmhouse?”

  He rubbed his hands together nervously. “You know, the one where that creepy wizard lives, same place they iced those elves and ’thropes before they dumped ’em.” He pointed at Belladonna. “She knows where it is. Heck, she was banging the guy for a while.”

  I turned to Bells. “Is he talking about Crowley?”

  Belladonna gave Sal a viper’s glare and pointed one perfectly manicured finger at him. She lowered the barrel of the pistol in her hand about fifteen degrees.

  “You watch your mouth, shorty, or you’re going to get spontaneous sexual reassignment surgery.” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah, I think so. He has a place out near McKinney Roughs, along the Colorado River. Turned a grain silo into his wizard’s tower or something. The silo thing is tacky as hell, but the kitchen’s kind of cute.”

  I snapped my fingers and pulled out Elias’ phone. “Son of a bitch—I guess now we know who’s behind all those killings.” I pulled up the GPS app and tossed the phone to her. “Take a look at this.”

  She glanced down at the phone screen. “Yep, that’s his place alright. Where’d you get this?”

  I looked over at Sal, deciding that I didn’t want to tip my hand. “Tell you later. Sal, buddy, I have you by the balls. We’re going to slip out of here, and I swear if you warn anyone we’re coming—”

  He waved both hands in the air. “Hey, you got nothin’ to worry about from me. My old lady finds out about this, and she’ll be wearing my nuts for earrings. You go do your thing, and I’ll keep Cinnamon here under wraps till we close up.”

  Cinnamon began to protest, but Sal pulled out a roll of bills and tossed two hundreds at her. “And two more at the end of the night, for keeping your mouth shut.”

  Belladonna holstered her pistol and wagged a finger at Cinnamon. “I say take the money, sugar—this asshole’s not good to you for much else.”

  Cinnamon stood up and tucked the bills in her blouse, avoiding making eye contact while she straightened herself up. Then she proceeded to slap the living crap out of Sal, who for the most part took it like a man. I felt sorry for her, but helping a young girl with self-esteem issues wasn’t very high on my list at the moment. We both watched in awe until she finished.

  Bells whistled. “Damn, I bet that felt good.”

  I pushed off the wall to go and addressed the now bloodied dwarf.

  “One last thing, Sal—I’m going to need the keys to your car.” He rubbed his face, smearing blood and snot everywhere, then gave a small shake of his head before tossing me a set of keys with a rabbit’s foot keychain attached.

  I took a small bow before exiting the room. “Thank you, both, for your cooperation.” Sal just waved me off and sulked, and Cinnamon flipped us off as we left.

  Belladonna turned to me as we slipped out of the storage room. “Too bad. I was just beginning to like that girl.”

  20

  Journal Entry—9 Months, 20 Days A.J.

  Belladonna and I stayed up all night, keeping an eye out for the skinwalker. We kept seeing ghost lights all over the place, and Belladonna said they were probably spirits that the skinwalker trapped, spying on us for him.

  That made me wonder if he could trap Jesse’s spirit. I really don’t want to think about it. Besides, I never really seem to feel her presence anywhere but at my mom’s house. I guess
it’s because that’s where we—you know, first time and all that. The books Belladonna “borrowed” from the Circle’s library mention that spirits often need a strong emotional anchor to remain in this world.

  Kind of makes me sad to think about it, because she’s all alone right now. Hopefully we can wrap things up here and get back home, before this skinwalker sneaks up on us Blair Witch style and skins us both.

  -McC

  Austin, Texas—Present Day

  Crowley’s place turned out to be an old farmhouse overlooking the Colorado River, right next door to Barton Hills Farm. It was too early for the place to be open to the public yet, which was a bit of a relief. If a fight erupted—and chances of that were nearly one-hundred percent at this point—then I didn’t want anybody getting curious and wandering onto Crowley’s land. When I pulled up to the front gate, I saw his name on the mailbox—and he had a big gold “C” welded on the wrought iron gate. Chalk one up for ostentation.

  The gate was locked, and I didn’t want to risk setting off an alarm. So, I parked Sal’s painstakingly restored 1972 Olds 88 (the perfect pimpmobile for the discerning minuscule mobster), and got out to wait for Belladonna. She had refused to ride with me, saying that she needed time to process the whole Crowley being involved with kidnapping and killing thing. I for one was glad that I’d borrowed Sal’s ride, since it was warm inside and way more practical for such a long drive. He’d had blocks on the pedals and a booster in the seat, but once I’d gotten rid of them it was good to go. Even though it drove like a boat, it was a hell of a lot faster than my scooter.

  Bells pulled up and jumped off her bike shortly after I’d parked, shaking her hair out as she removed her helmet. Based on her body language, I could tell she was pissed and that she’d worked herself into a frenzy on the way over. She slammed her helmet down on her seat, then reached into her saddle bags and pulled out a short-barreled 12-gauge pump shotgun, racking a round in the chamber as she walked over. She gestured at the gate with the barrel of the gun.

  “Is it locked? Good.” I jumped back when I realized what she had in mind, just as she blasted the padlock on the gate with a few rounds of double-ought buckshot. The brass casing on the lock shattered, and she was just about to rip it off and push the gate open when I reached out to stop her. Not that I was worried about the gunshots; shotgun blasts were a common enough occurrence in the Texas countryside. However, I was concerned she’d trigger an alarm by opening the gate.

  “Hang on, hang on—I get that you’re pissed, but we’re dealing with a mage here. Gimme a second to see what sort of wards and alarms he has.”

  A quick inspection showed there were only a few wards and one alarm spell. I fiddled with the alarm, taking a few minutes to disable it without making our presence known. Luckily, the other wards were merely there for protection from fae, vamps, weres, curses, and such, and wouldn’t keep us from entering the premises. Apparently, Crowley thought he would be nigh on invincible in his own demesne. Naturally, I intended to disabuse him of that notion.

  After dealing with the alarm spell, I took a few extra moments to study the other wards carefully. Upon closer inspection, I realized one of those wards was designed to keep something in, instead of keeping things out. I made note of it, since it could come in handy later, and spent a few moments studying it just to be sure I understood the weaves and patterns Crowley had used to cast it. Admittedly it was good work, and he was a far more powerful magic-user than I was. But I was smarter and much better-looking, and I could easily alter that spell to get the effect I desired.

  Once finished with my inspection and magical B&E work, I motioned for Bells to follow me. “Don’t open the gate—it’ll trigger the alarm spell I just bypassed. Just hop it for now, and we can blow it up on the way out if you like.”

  Belladonna growled. “Promises, promises.”

  I jumped the fence, then gave her an unnecessary hand down as she followed me over. The fact that she took it meant she was mad enough to kick some ass, but not angry enough to completely lose her shit. That was totally cool, because my plan didn’t actually involve her fighting Crowley at all, and I didn’t need her going off half-cocked before we rescued Sabine.

  Once we’d cleared the gate, we headed toward the house. But we’d gone no more than twenty or thirty feet when I stumbled in a deep depression in the dirt and gravel driveway.

  “Bells, look at this.” I pointed at the hole I’d tripped over, which was in the shape of a lone, massive footprint, roughly two-and-a-half feet long and four inches deep.

  She looked at the footprint and whistled. “Holy shit, I can’t believe it. He has a freaking fachen.”

  We shared a knowing, tense look. Fachen were perhaps the most fearsome creatures mentioned in ancient Irish mythology, said to be the direct descendants of the Fomorians. They were giants, but malformed and hideous in the very worst way. Fachen only had one leg, one arm, and half a torso. You’d think they’d be practically helpless, but legend had it that they were fast, brutally strong, and that their one arm could magically swivel to either side of their body.

  Fachen were also said to prefer flexible weapons like flails or long spiked chains. They were living, breathing wrecking machines; a lone fachen was rumored to have destroyed an entire forest with a massive chain in a single night. How Crowley had bound one into service was anyone’s guess, but it was definitely not something that two mortals like myself and Belladonna could take on alone, hunter and druid training or no.

  I looked around nervously, but the fact was if this massive creature was still around, we’d hear it before we saw it. As we approached the farmhouse and outbuildings, we switched to using hand signals instead of verbal communication. Fact was, we really had no idea who or what might be out here guarding Crowley’s place, in addition to the fachen. I figured if we were careful we might have a small chance of maintaining stealth and getting Sabine out clean.

  The farmhouse was empty and devoid of any signs of habitation. According to Belladonna, Crowley lived in a converted silo that sat adjacent to one of the barns. Why someone would buy a house and not live in it was beyond me, but then again I didn’t understand much about how wealthy people spent their money. Bells had mentioned a few times that Crowley was loaded, and in my experience, trust fund babies were ridiculously clueless about the actual value of things. Someone who needed a home could have been living in that house, but instead it sat empty. Hell, I could have been living in that house, instead of a junkyard. All I could do was give a mental head shake and move on.

  When we reached the first barn, Bells signaled that she sensed activity inside. I threw my magic marble out, and it rolled around the corner and under the barn door. It showed me there were two very tall and thin bipeds inside, and revealed an unconscious third figure in one of the horse stalls. I gave Belladonna the signal for trolls, and she nodded and drew her sword. I pulled a couple of tricks from my bag, preparing them for when we got the drop on these jokers.

  Trolls were a particularly nasty species of unseelie fae. Originating in northern Europe, they had migrated and settled wherever people of Scandinavian descent roamed, which meant damned near everywhere. Unsavory types in the supernatural community liked to use them for muscle, because they were tough, dumb as rocks, and would work for pocket change. Literally, you could pay them in pocket change. So long as it was silver, they’d take it. Like I said, trolls were stupid.

  But the bad thing about trolls was they were really tough. Most had limited powers of regeneration, and while they could be hurt, you could drop them and they’d get right back up to come at you again. They really only had two weaknesses: sunlight and fire. Sunlight would turn them to stone, so trolls tended to live in caves, swamps, and under bridges for the most part. But short of shooting them in the head and dragging them into sunlight (which meant you had to dispose of a very heavy body at that point), the only way to permanently kill them was to burn them.

  I signaled Bells that we’d en
ter the barn on the count of three. I got to a one count before she mouthed something that could’ve been “bucket,” and kicked the doors in—a pretty impressive feat, considering she was about five feet nothing. I sighed and followed her in, waiting for her to dismantle the trolls by sword and superior firepower, at which point I would step in and finish the job.

  They were each about seven feet tall, bipedal, and roughly humanoid in appearance. But that’s where any similarities to humanity ended. Their skin was a mottled brownish-green color, and they were weirdly muscular, but in a way that was completely wrong to the human eye. The only way I could describe it was that they were lumpy. They had dull, black eyes that lacked pupils, sharp claws on their long alien hands, and tufts of hair growing in odd places all over their nearly naked bodies. Each wore scraps of human clothing that had to have been size 4XL or better, and their clothes hung off them in tatters. They were arguing over the remains of a cow’s leg when we came in, and it looked like they were about to come to blows.

  Trolls were frightening to behold, that was a fact, but the most fearsome thing about them was their smell. Imagine the worst foot odor possible combined with Limburger cheese, feces, and bad breath. Then, double it. That was what trolls smelled like. Routinely, people who hired them would also hire a mage to contain their smell, because if they didn’t they’d have to torch anything the trolls touched once they were gone.

  Unfortunately, Crowley had cast no such spell on these trolls, and as soon as Belladonna and I entered the room we both gagged and retched. That would explain why Sabine was unconscious, because an odor this bad had to have knocked her out. Instantly, my eyes watered as I fought the dry heaves.

  The trolls each had a hand on the haunch of meat, and looked up at us as we stumbled in, coughing and hacking and trying not to puke. Despite the fact that my eyes were watering and I was coughing up a lung, I recognized one of them from Maeve’s; it was the very same troll that had been guarding her front entrance.