Graveyard Uprisings (Bloodline Awakened Supernatural Thriller Series Book 2)

by Jason Paul Rice

  I said, “It appears that the stone men and my father are on their side as well, all ultimately controlled by the Sendals. I don’t know how many other human entities they have control of. And furthermore, I haven’t the slightest clue on how I am going to kill them.”

  Alayna said, “To kill a group of old spirits, we need to go back in time. You will need runed weapons.”

  Reg asked, “Ruined weapons?”

  Alayna said, “Weapons that have been blessed by proper rituals and rune symbols. Weapons filled with enchantment. That is the only way I know of.”

  I thought about Carolyn’s fingernails. The vamps had ancient rune symbols that they’d been using for a long time. So did the Deep Burrow. Lucky me. “What do you think about joining me for a visit to the Deep Burrow tomorrow, Alayna?”

  She closed one eye and peered at me. “I think I could be compelled to do that.”

  I wondered, “Does magic in a conventional sense work against them?”

  Alayna said, “No one that’s ever survived a fight with a true Sendal, has found a source of magic other than the enchanted iron weapons.”

  Reg asked, “Is it the iron or the enchantment that they can’t deal with?”

  The faerie flicked something off her shoulder. “We believe it to be a combination of both. No one’s been daring enough to only use an iron weapon without the rune symbols and blessing. If you would like to be the first, I wouldn’t advise it.”

  I’m not that crazy. “No, nothing like that. I’m just trying to figure out if we can use other means to take them out. I still don’t know where the Sendals are located either. Or my father.” I’d pushed the thoughts of my dad to the back burner, but his death threat loomed large right now. I wondered what kind of deal he’d made with the Sendals.

  My phone buzzed in the inside pocket of the suit jacket and I pulled it out. Unknown number. Ah, what the hell?

  19

  Here we go again, Humphrey Bogart. “Hello, Detective Mike Merlino.”

  The soft voice of a man came through. “Hi, you are the Occult Detective, right?”

  “The one and only. How can I help you, sir?”

  “I think I might have some information that could help you with the graveyard uprisings. I’ve heard and seen some things that I’m probably not supposed to but it can’t be undone.”

  I walked into the living room. “I’d love to hear more about that.”

  “I can tell you a few things, but I’m scared. I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. Could we meet up sometime?”

  “I should have some open time today. What works best for you?”

  He said, “I’m going to be busy most of the day. How about tonight? I have an apartment in the Southside. Say, nine o’clock.”

  “I can make that happen. Why don’t you text me the address to this number and I will see you at nine?”

  He said, “I can do that. Thank you. You might be the only hope. See you later.”

  “Alright, see you then.” I hung up the phone feeling like Obi Wan Kenobi.

  I walked back into the kitchen. “That was someone who thinks they might have information about the uprisings.”

  “Was he Greek?” Alayna joked.

  He didn’t sound like Socrates. “Very funny, but maybe, I couldn’t detect an accent. I’m going to need help on this one. Do you think the Gods would let me take anyone from the Deep Burrow to help? What about your cleaners?”

  Alayna narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “Doubtful.”

  “Why?”

  The faerie answered, “The Gods provide help when they see fit. If one person can accomplish the task, they won’t send additional help. The Gods have been pushed beyond any measure we could even comprehend, and they expect a fraction of that out of their subjects.”

  I never thought of myself as a subject to the Gods. It was completely accurate though. To reach full potential, one needed to be pushed over the edge several times. I’d been shoved over that cliff a few times already and it was tremendous for my development as a wizard.

  I’d learned to rely on nobody except myself, but this situation called for me to bring some help. I thought about who in the city of Pittsburgh would be able to provide help in a supernatural fight. I hated the person who kept coming back into my mind.

  I debated whether I would rather die or accept help from Felix. As much as I talked shit on him, he was probably the best candidate to battle the Sendal Spirits. I’d have to swallow a lot of pride to make it happen, and the preliminary taste in my mouth didn’t give me much hope.

  I arrived at the client’s apartment on the main drag of the Southside. I watched citizens spill out of two bars and flood the sidewalks. Flakes of snow began to fall, but the holiday cheer running through the patrons made them seemingly unaware of the conditions as they danced down the sidewalk. It had all the makings of a bar crawl.

  I followed them down East Carson Street. Most of the people went into the Straight Shooter Saloon and cleared the way for me to find the address I was looking for. I went another block and a half and found a three-story apartment building made of bricks.

  I buzzed the spot marked 1B on the call-box. No voice came through the intercom, but I heard the door buzz, so I twisted the knob and pulled. Entering the building, I found a staircase to my left and a hallway with a brown floor to my right. The apartment was the second on the left.

  I went to knock on the door and stopped. I detected magic from outside the apartment. It could be a number of things like another Dybbuk Box. I realized it was suspect to linger outside the door and knocked three times.

  The door swung open and a pale man in a three-piece suit and red tie appeared. A wave of funk poured through the opening. A weird odor of old cheese and dead mice wafted into my nostrils and wouldn’t leave. The man had an elongated head like an ancient Egyptian, but his skin was white as a ghost. Long black hair hung over half of his face, covering one of his eyes.

  The man invited me into a shabbily furnished shithole. Actually, he needed to clean up a little to make it a shithole. He led me down a hallway. Living room on the left with a torn-up couch and mismatched cushions. Dilapidated hardwood floors covered with cigarette butts. The yellow curtains that were originally white barely covered the windows and made my apartment look classy.

  I didn’t detect enough magic to scare me, but his strange look was a bit alarming.

  He veered right into a room and I followed. The soles of my shoes stuck to the linoleum floor as he led me into the kitchen and pointed to a folding chair at the table in the middle of the room. Another man was already seated at the table and he looked very similar to his friend.

  The host broke the uncomfortable silence. “My name is Victor and this is Ernesto. I’m the one that called you earlier.” The man sat at the oval table next to Ernesto and across from me.

  The two men in matching suits looked like the classic descriptions of men in black. Their pale faces, dark eyes and elongated heads were alien in appearance. They did not look like a classic Victor or Ernesto and I dipped further into my magical reservoir and brought more to the surface. They should have gone with Ernie and Vic.

  I said, “And you both know I’m Mike Merlino. What did you guys call me for?”

  Ernesto’s beady eyes widened and lit up. “We are interested in the same things that you seem to be. We were thinking maybe we could exchange supernatural information and form a new partnership.”

  Suddenly everyone wants to be my friend. Too bad you can’t trust anyone in this city. “That’s a nice offer, gentlemen, but I prefer to work alone.”

  Victor leaned back in the chair. “We aren’t saying that we work together. Just that we share information that might keep our fair city safe. We know there is something evil sweeping the city of Pittsburgh.”

  My mind flashed back to the conversation with the night watchman from the cemetery. He had said that some Men in Black type figures had come to scare him. I heightened my sense
s and tried to figure out if there were any more people in the house. I didn’t sense anyone and focused on the two bozos at the table.

  They were releasing some magic vines, but they were weak. I had a few questions of my own. “Obviously, you know who I am, which puts me at a disadvantage. What form of magic do you practice?”

  Ernesto looked down at his shoes. “Same as you do.”

  “I have a few styles. Which one specifically?” I only practiced the Druidic Arts, but I wanted to throw them off. I had a feeling these guys were using magic from the Dark Artistry. They were going to tell me some lies so that I would share everything I knew with them. Not happening, fellas. “Either of you can answer.”

  Both men just looked at each other with panic on their faces. If they didn’t know any of the pure magic systems, they didn’t really know me. I mentally retraced my steps from the building door to where I was seated. This was getting weird fast and the level of magic in the room began to get stronger.

  I stared at the spider web in the corner of the room. I thought about all the spiders in the grungy bars along this road. Then I shifted to internally heating my body. I built up so much fire that my face flushed. I broke the long silence, fanning my hand in front of my face, “Look, gentlemen, I really need to get some air.”

  I sprang up from the table and darted out of the kitchen, down the hallway, out the front door of the apartment, and I almost made it to the exit door of the building when Ernesto screamed. “Stop right there.”

  An amazing amount of magic was coming from behind me, so I ripped the door open and spilled out onto the sidewalk. The streets were relatively calm compared to earlier. I peeked over my shoulder and noticed my new friends catching up with me.

  20

  I spun around and both men stopped in their tracks. “What do you want?” I asked.

  The men looked at each other again in silence. Victor said, “You need to stay with us. We need to exchange ideas. You can’t leave.”

  Snowflakes fell to the sidewalk and dissolved into the fabric on the men’s shoulders. I had a feeling these guys weren’t going to leave unless I used more than words. I took the internal heat and sent a rippling wave at the two men. They dove out of the way proving they had a firm understanding of magic.

  Game on.

  I created four purple orbs of intense heat, and heaved them one by one at the men. Each man deflected two of the orbs down a deserted alley and they clanged off a dumpster. I decided to go in another direction and draw in the chill from the snow. I stared at the two men, who were rapidly approaching me, and internally projected the frost inside both of their bodies.

  The freeze slowed them down for a few steps, but they fought it off and closed in on me. As I debated my next move, the men separated, trying to surround me as people gathered across the street to watch the brawl. I projected more ice into their systems to no avail as a firm fist sprang toward me and crunched into my nose.

  My eyes watered, and I could barely see. Two more punches connected to my jaw and temple causing me to go down to one knee. I sprang up and buried my fist into Ernesto’s belly, which felt like a rock. I stepped back shaking my hand and tried to develop a plan B.

  Ernesto didn’t give me any time as he used a magical force to pick me up and toss me against the side of the brick bar. I rolled around on the ground, trying to regain my wits, breath and balance. Everything looked like a skipping television screen before finally coming into focus.

  A horde of patrons from the bar emptied out onto the street, and gathered around to watch me get my ass kicked. More good times.

  I barely made it back to my feet when Ernesto blasted me in the mouth with a quick right, dropping me again. Both men kicked me in the sides and head with an onslaught of stomping. Already tasting salty liquid in my mouth, I had a good feeling I’d be pissing blood later tonight. So you want to be a wizard, huh?

  If you’ve never been beaten up before, there comes a time in a fight when you realize it’s just not going to work out for you. Actually, you don’t really realize it at the time, normally people tell you about it after the fight. Survival instinct kicked in, and you naturally cover up as much as you can. You just have to take a whooping and wish you wouldn’t die. You hoped that your opponent would take mercy on you.

  I heard the sweet sound of police sirens in the distance. Normally, I hated that racket, but this time, the boys and girls in blue (actually, they wore black uniforms in Pittsburgh) just might save my life. One of the members of what now could be described as a crowd must’ve called the authorities. Blood ran out of my mouth and nose, not to mention the internal leaking as the stomping continued.

  I tried to think with my scrambled head as I stared at a spider web along the base of the bar. That’s it. I drew on my experience.

  I focused on all the spiders in Pittsburgh as the men dragged me toward the street. I shifted to my mind the overwhelming number of spiders in the United States. Then the world. Then all the underworlds. All the nasty, fuzzy, disgusting, creepy, beautifully helpful spiders crawled around my head, spinning a mental web.

  The men dragged my limp body near the street.

  Ernesto screamed, “Bite the curb, dickbag.”

  The crowd shrieked, and I waited for someone to jump in and get my back. No takers, eh?

  Victor leaned down and grabbed the back of my head, grinding my forehead into the pavement. He used his other hand to get a firm grip on the hair on the left side of my head and move my jaw near the curb. I knew what was about to happen, but I couldn’t prevent it. I exerted all my energy into the spiders.

  The sirens got louder along with the screaming of the concerned citizens. I could tell something bad was about to happen but my mangled brain couldn’t fully process it. Victor violently pulled my mouth open and put my teeth on the curb like I was about to bite into an apple.

  I forgot what I was going to do to these guys. I waited for Ernesto to perform oral surgery as women in the crowd started to cry and screamed for their husbands or boyfriends to do something. Ernesto’s snakeskin boot raised up above my head when my memory kicked back in.

  “Aranea. Aranea.” I gurgled, not really getting out the words and scraping my teeth on the pavement.

  Spider webbing shot down from the sky and grabbed Ernesto’s foot right before the curb stomping. The intense cyclone of silky webs circled both men, wrapping them in a cocoon type structure.

  I slowly made it back to my feet and the first thing I saw was police lights from down the street. The webs weren’t enough to hold the men forever and they both struggled to bust loose. The squad cars neared, and the loud sirens brought my mind back into reality.

  Party people scattered in every direction. I blended into a large group and continued down East Carson Street, away from the scene of the crime. I didn’t peek back, but I had a feeling that the two men would bust out of the webs and get away from the cops.

  I veered down a side street and found a Taco Bell. I stealthily ducked into the bathrooms before anyone in the restaurant saw me. Let’s take a look in the mirror. It can’t be that bad.

  Holy hell.

  The bloody nose, busted lip and tongue, bleeding road rash on my forehead, internal agony on both sides of my midsection, and my distorted vision pretty much explained what had happened.

  I used the annoying motion sensor faucet to clean up my haggard appearance. Speaking of vampires, I was going to see Jonathan, who might be wearing a fifty-thousand-dollar suit. I didn’t have enough time to go home and get changed because I had to wait out the cops to get back to my car.

  I cleaned myself up as best I could under the circumstances and went out into the restaurant. I stuffed a handful of napkins in my pocket to sop up more blood if necessary. I nodded to the older woman behind the counter who scrunched up her nose and waved at me as I left.

  I waited until the police left and jumped in my beat-up ride. I cruised over to the Purple House to meet up with Jonathan. I dropped t
he car off with the valet and went inside. My favorite receptionist recognized me this time and picked up the corded phone as I approached her.

  21

  “Hi, Jonathan. Mr. Merlino is here to see you.” She winked at me.

  I peered down the hallway and noticed five sexy female vampire’s flooding out of Jonathan’s office, giggling. Several minutes passed, and Jonathan emerged in another suit with a dovetailed jacket. He was tying a bright ruby tie as he approached me, and one of his eyes was completely bloodshot.

  I could smell the sex in the air. A hell of a lot of sex in the air. Jonathan extended his hand. “Micheal Merlino, we meet yet again.”

  “Good to see you.” I gave him a quick handshake not to be rude and followed him down the hallway. We entered the office and the incense burning behind his desk didn’t cover up the overwhelming scent of physical love.

  Jonathan called in our drink order and we took our usual spots in the office. I chose not to waste any time, but Jonathan spoke before me, “What happened?”

  I wondered what he was talking about until I remembered my face. “Just a little street fight down in the South Side. You know how it goes down there?”

  He gestured for me to sit down as he walked around his desk. “The meatheads looking for a scrap. I’ve heard some stories.”

  The buxom vampire server brought us our drinks. I waited for her to shut the door before I asked, “What happened to your eye?”

  “Just a little accident. Had a few of them lately. When you get to be my age, it happens.”

  Jonathan didn’t seem like the clumsy type. I immediately thought about the Dybbuk Boxes.

  He studied me as I avoided eye contact. “There’s no curse on those boxes. I presume that is what this meeting is about.”

  Oh, forgot he can read minds. Sometimes. “Good presumption. Reports are rolling in that Sendal Spirits are trying to take over Pittsburgh. I think some of them started from the spirits in those boxes. Do you know how to do it? How to get the spirits back into the boxes?”