“Really?” I asked, leaning forward in my seat, then back again as sunlight speared through the windshield and right into my eyes.
“Yes. He was a large boy, very helpful with our research. A geology major. I’d hoped he could guide us towards possible locations for the outpost, but all his efforts were for nothing. Well, I shouldn’t say nothing.” Ford let out a short chuckle. “His knowledge must have impressed the mining company.”
“Oh?” I asked. “And why’s that?”
“Well, after we’d been there a few months, he started talking with them quite a bit. I think the company manager liked him. After we got back, they offered him a full scholarship. Paid off the rest of his education just like that! As soon as he graduated, he headed back out there. They’d lined up a job for him and everything.”
“That was nice of them,” I said, frowning. It was nice of them. Especially the full scholarship. “His name wouldn’t happen to have been Peters, would it?”
“Yes it was! Aaron Peters. A nice young man. Big, too. Started school on a football scholarship, I believe, but he had a few troubles. Turned himself around, though he stopped playing football. Still, he was a bright lad. You said you were out there. Have you run into him?”
“Yeah, actually,” I said as I thought back on the large, thick-chinned, blond who’d “escorted” me out of Henderson’s office. “We met briefly. He’s still working for Henderson Mining.” As hired muscle, I finished mentally.
“Well, that’s wonderful to hear. At least something came of that expedition.”
“One last question, if you don’t mind” I said.
“Not at all. What would you like to know?”
I paused, trying to think of the best way to phrase the question. “Do you know anything about the legend of the Wraith?”
“The what?”
“The Wraith,” I said. “The mysterious thing in all the stories here that hunts people in the desert?”
“Oh, that’s right. The town bogeyman.” His voice had gone flat, like a soda left out overnight. “We never saw hide nor hair of it. I believe it’s even less likely to exist than our Aztec mine. And we spent several months looking for that.”
“Just one more question then,” I said. “Just because I’m curious.”
“Very well,” Ford said, his voice still somewhat flat.
“What were you hoping to find out in the mines? Ruins?”
“Maybe more,” Ford said, the metaphorical fizz coming back to his voice. “The record I found said that it had been a massive silver mine, but soon after the Aztecs found it, something happened—the record didn’t exactly specify what—that forced them to leave. Before they abandoned the outpost, they left it in the grip of Tlaltecuhtli, the god of the earth, to protect it.”
A chill ran up my spine. “Did they now?” I asked. “And how’d they do that?”
“Well, I’d expect that they dismantled it and buried it. That’s why we were looking in the old mineshafts and above ground for signs of disturbed earth or level areas that could have been used as foundations. Signs that there may have been something buried. Mounds, pits, that sort of thing.”
“And you never found anything?”
“No,” Ford said. There was a rustling on the other end of the phone as if he was shaking his head. “We never did. I was hoping that … Well, never mind. We didn’t, and when our grant ran out, that was the end of it. With so little to show for it, I’ve never been able to put together another expedition.”
“Professor, exactly how certain are you about this abandoned Aztec silver mine?” I asked, a faint chill running down my spine.
“Oh, quite certain! The record I found was very detailed, and I followed it and a few ancient shipping routes all the way to New Mexico. If we’d had more time, I strongly believe we would have found it.”
“Tell me, Professor,” I asked, the hair on the back of my neck rising. “Did the ancient Aztecs have any magic?”
“Magic? Of course they did,” he replied. “We know very little about it, but we’re fairly certain that they had some sort of magic capability. It’s a fairly new realization, what with the Unusual Reforms in the sixties, so it’s a little hard to distinguish fact from fiction. Especially since so many records at the time were in the hands of the Spanish, and they made as much of an effort as they could to downplay or destroy anything they saw as ‘heathen activity.’”
A sour feeling formed in my stomach. “Could they have had necromancy?”
Ford paused before responding. “That’s an interesting question. We’re almost certain that they did, given how many of their rituals revolved around sacrifice and blood.” My stomach twisted, a shiver running down my back. “I’m afraid that isn’t really my field, however. I’m not sure it’s anyone’s field, to be honest. The Aztecs were very secretive, and the Spanish deliberately purged all magical knowledge after they’d leveled the empire. We really don’t have much to go on besides folklore. Was there something specific you were looking for?”
“No,” I said, my voice flat. I tried to put a little more cheer into it. “Thanks for your help.”
“Well, I’m not exactly sure how much help I’ve given you, Mr. Decroux,” Ford said, unaware of the icy chill still sliding around beneath my skin. “Was there something specific that you wanted to know?”
“I—uh, well, not specifically,” I said, scrambling to think of a decent cover. The last thing I wanted was to tell him what was really going on. “My partner and I have been in the area investigating chupacabra attacks—”
“Chupa-what?”
“Chupacabra,” I said. “It’s a small, dog-like creature covered in armor plates. Sucks blood, known in Mexico as the ‘goat sucker.’”
“Ah.”
“Anyway, my partner and I are investigating some problems with these creatures, and we came to the conclusion that they’re probably using the old mineshafts running underneath the city. So we were wondering if you’d ever seen any sign of animal life while you were looking for your outpost.”
“Oh. Well, no. Not that I’d know. I’m not a student of biology. I’m afraid I’m of no help there.”
I nodded. Fair enough. At this point, the chupacabra was a non-issue anyway. I gave the professor a polite thank you and wished him a pleasant day, then hung up before he could ask any more questions about what Rocke and I were doing. He really didn’t want to know. There was part of me that didn’t want to know, either. It just wanted to forget the entire conversation.
Just file it away for now, I told myself. The Aztec’s used blood magic. That doesn’t mean anything. Except … it kind of did. Maybe. It was more information to throw on the teetering pile of evidence, even though I didn’t like the implications. Although …
I shook my head and shut off the car. Whatever we were facing, it probably wasn’t ancient Aztecs. After so many years, whatever ruins did exist would be just that—ruins. Any magic they’d held would have long since burned out. It wasn’t like there was a pristine outpost somewhere out there with living Aztec priests in it.
You’re just still on edge after this morning, I told myself as I climbed out of my car, making sure to grab my staff from the backseat. Sure, he was looking for some old Aztec ruins, someplace where they might have made blood sacrifices, but that still doesn’t mean—
I paused, coming to a stop on the sidewalk, a thought buzzing through my head. Blood. The Aztecs were all about blood. Ford was looking for Aztecs. Chupacabras drink blood and store it in their pouches.
How long could a chupacabra live for, anyway? The research I’d read wasn’t really sure, but either way, it could explain where the things had come from in the first place, since they’d apparently been plaguing the town for forever. It was definitely an interesting theory, and it was sounder than anything else that had darted through my mind in the last few minutes.
I continued down the sidewalk, my worry easing a bit as the rational part of my mind picked apart the illog
ical fears my rarely seen paranoia had stirred up. Whatever Aztec ruins were lying south of us, whatever had been done there had been done centuries ago. The town’s recent outbreak of … whatever was cutting the throats of local animals and their owners probably wasn’t related.
Which made me wonder again exactly what it was, but I pushed the question out of my head almost as quickly as it occurred to me. Trying to figure out exactly who or what we were facing was Rocke’s job. Well, his and the NSAU’s, once they arrived.
I jumped up the museum steps, taking them two at a time in my hurry to speak with Charlie, but came to a surprised stop as I saw the “Closed” sign on the door. I frowned and leaned up against the glass. Most of the lights were out inside, throwing the whole place into a short of shadowy twilight that probably looked a lot darker than it was, standing in the sun as I was. I cupped one hand over my eyes, letting them adjust as I squinted into the darkened lobby. Nothing. Just a lot of shadow.
“He must be out to lunch,” I muttered as I gave the door handle a good pull. The metal rattled, the locks letting out insect-like clicks as they rapped against the frame. I tapped on the glass with my staff, the sounds echoing through the lobby.
Nothing.
“Well …” I said as I pulled out my phone and took a quick look at the time. I’d forgotten that I’d been woken up a lot earlier than usual. It was only ten, even though it felt much later. I glanced up at the small sign on the museum door showing the hours. It should have been open.
“Huh,” I said. There was nothing on the sign to indicate what days the museum was open, and according to my phone’s calendar it wasn’t a holiday. At least, not a national one.
I rattled the door once more in hopes that maybe the museum’s aged curator would poke his head around one of the doorways before scuttling over to open up, but no such luck. Which meant that within the first twenty minutes of splitting up from Rocke, I’d already accomplished everything I’d set out to do.
Great. I glanced back at my Rover as another car drove past. I could hear the sounds of town waking up around me, something I wished I’d been able to put off until around the same time. Part of me wanted to take a nap. Several parts of me, in fact. I was not an early riser.
But maybe there was somewhere else I could some information about the Wraith, since Charlie didn’t appear to be around. I flipped my staff onto my shoulder as I started down the steps, heading for my car. I might as well try. I’d need to stop by an ATM first, though. I was pretty sure I owed her for a few tips.
* * *
“Hello—oh, it’s you again.”
“Hello, Eve,” I said as I stepped through the doorway into her office. “How’s it going?”
I really hadn’t needed to ask. A single glance was all it took to see that Eve had been running full-tilt all morning. Her desk was a scattered mess compared to before, papers spread far and wide across its surface—some crumpled and discarded, some stacked on top of one another. Several of them wore coffee stains, probably from any of the three, large cups sitting on one end of the table.
Eve herself showed about the same level of disarray. Her hair was out-of-place, strands and clumps having slipped free of her headband, one of which she seemed to bat away from her eye every few seconds. Her white blouse, prim and pressed the last time I had seen her, was dirty and wrinkled, and I could see faint signs of sweat around the neck and shoulders. I could see the red in her bloodshot eyes as they fixed on me, but there was no mistaking the intensity behind them. Judging from the scent of the room, that look was probably result of more coffee than most people should’ve had in a week.
“You got a minute?” I asked, seating myself without waiting for an answer.
“No, actually, I don’t. Not if I want to get this evening’s special edition ready before tonight. I’m sure you’re very grateful for that little tip I gave you this morning, but if you don’t mind, I need to get this done.” She turned her attention back to her desk, papers sliding back and forth underneath her hands as she skillfully rearranged them in some pattern only she understood.
I didn’t bother to get up. Instead, I gambled, leaned forward, and tapped my staff on the edge of her desk. The faint back-and-forth swish of papers came to a stop as her eyes snapped up.
“Alright,” she said, crossing her arms as she sat back. “You haven’t left yet, so whatever you’ve got, it must be fairly important. What do you have for me?”
“Actually, it’s something I need.” I said, leaning back in my own seat.
She frowned. “Which is?”
“You’re the local news source. I need everything important you have on the Wraith.”
At first she looked annoyed, then puzzled, and then a predatory grin spread across her face. She’d already figured out why I was asking.
“So, you and your buddy are looking for the Wraith now, huh? The chupacabra thing not working out for you?”
“More like we’re just digging for data. Got some time to spare to give me a little bit on the Wraith?” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “You look like you could use a break, and we need the information.”
For a moment Eve stared at me, eyes twitching back and forth as if she were reading some sort of message written across my face. Then she smirked and leaned back, her chair squeaking as she put her feet up on her desk. I’d half-expected her to be wearing heels, but a pair of weathered and dirt white sneakers stared back at me.
“All right,” she said. “What do you want to know?”
“Just like that?” I asked. “No deal?”
Eve smirked again, her lips thinning as they pressed together. “I don’t think I need a deal here. Not a verbal one, at least. I’ll tell you what I know, and then wait for the storm to hit. I’ve always had an eye for the kind of trouble that sells newspapers, and you and your buddy are probably the biggest catalysts I’ve seen all year. I just need to sit back and watch. So,” she said, spreading her arms wide, “what do you want to know?”
I paused for a moment but couldn’t really find any reason not to agree with her. “Fair enough. What do you know about the Wraith?”
“That’s a pretty broad question. You want the long, drawn out myth that everyone talks about, or something a little more concrete?” she asked, leaning forward.
“Known Wraith attacks in the last, say, twenty years. When and where.”
Eve scoffed. “Known? You act like somebody’s out there taking pictures. How about I give you disappearances and highlights from the police reports?” I nodded. It sounded good enough.
“To start, let me put it this way. In the United States, about two-thousand people go missing a day. More of a problem for the big cities than the little ones. Last year, Albuquerque had who knows how many missing persons cases, and at least thirty or forty of them went unresolved. That’s a city of over half-a-million people. Us? Silver Dreams is a town of about nine-thousand.” Her chair squealed as she grabbed the coffee cup nearest to her, scowling in disgust as it turned out to be empty. She tossed it into the trash can, grabbed the next cup in line, and leaned back, apparently satisfied. “That’s about two percent of Albuquerque’s population. You want to know how many unresolved missing persons cases we had last year?”
She took a long, deep drink from her coffee cup, then tossed it in the garbage with its sibling. “Damn, I’m tired. Anyway, just by doing the math, we should really only be losing somebody every few years. Instead?” She cocked her head to the side, folding her arms across her chest. “Instead, we lose at least one person a year. Sometimes two.”
My jaw dropped. “Wait,” I said, shaking my head. “I thought you guys only lost someone every few years. That’s what I’d heard.”
“No, what you’ve heard is what people notice,” Eve said, shaking her head at me in kind, frazzled hair bouncing as more of it escaped her headband. “In a city this small, people notice when people they know go missing, not when it’s just anybody. We lose at least one eve
ry year, but you’d actually have to be looking to notice it” She threw her hands up, pitching forward as she dropped her feet to the ground. “Everyone’s so used to it, it’s just the way things are. The FBI doesn’t even bother us about it anymore. It’s been like clockwork, as near as I can tell, since the place was founded. You done any of the touristy stuff yet?”
“Just the museum,” I said when it became apparent she was waiting for an answer.
“Well, if you talk to someone about going hiking or camping, they’ll all give you same advice,” she said, grabbing the final coffee cup from her desk and scowling when it turned out to be empty, as well. It joined its brothers in the garbage, the hollow thump of its impact echoing around the small office. “Don’t go into the south end of the valley without a guide, and always go as a group. They’ll tell you the south end of the valley is dangerous because all the old mineshafts and junk like that, but it’s a load. The mine put up fences around all their land years ago. And nobody gives you the same warnings if you go north.”
“Are you saying that they know something?” I asked.
“What?” Eve asked, her words almost ruined by a disbelieving laugh. “Of course they don’t know anything.” She shook her head. “They’re just looking for a rational explanation. Everyone—from the cops to the sheriff to the mayor to the rangers—they’re all just making excuses. The fact is, we have the highest per-capita rate of missing persons in the state. Had it since day one. I doubt even those NSAU guys have looked into it. Everyone just agrees that that’s how it is.”
She leaned forward, bent across the desk, her voice going quiet as she stared at me. “But you know something? I’ve looked into it. Did the research myself when I first started this job. Never had enough for a story, even with the occasional newsworthy disappearance. But I can tell you one thing,” she said, rising out of her seat, her fingers splayed out on the desktop as she stared down at me. There was a hungry drive in her eyes, a drive to know.
“Almost without fail, every single person who has gone missing who has had a last known location, has vanished somewhere in the south end of the valley. As far back as I could track it, at least,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “So, you want police reports? Scare stories? I’ve got those. You want pictures?” She shrugged. “Nothing good. But you want my opinion? Everything has a reason. One to two people missing each year, all in the south end?”
Dead Silver Page 31
