by Ben Reeder
“How?” Giselle, quiet and all but forgotten up to then, asked. “How do you make it so this guy doesn’t sell his soul to this Dulka? I mean, if he really wants to, he’s going to do it no matter what.” Wanda sat on the bed and Giselle moved so that she was leaning against it between her knees.
“Good question,” I said. Wanda put her hands on Giselle’s shoulders, her eyes distant. “We can’t mess with his free will.”
“We need to figure out who this guy is and what he wants first,” Shade said. Her head was tilted forward, and her eyes were bright. “Maybe we can ask Collins to help us do that?”
“What about the circle?” Lucas asked. “The email said he was going to have to summon Dulka in a few days. Are there any supplies he’d need for setting it up that he can’t get from your website? For that matter, if he ordered stuff from your website, what about the shipping address he used?”
“He’ll need powdered chalk, dung of some kind, and some herbs, like hellebore and foxglove. And, for a summoning circle, he’ll need a pentacle made of some metal other than silver. The chalk he can get at any hardware store. As far as his shipping address, he used a P.O. box, so that’s a dead end.”
“You can only get hellebore and foxglove at Spirit Garden,” Wanda said. “And they only sell silver pentacles there. My mom and I can ask around there.”
“One of our suppliers sells copper and pewter pentacles,” Lucas added. “And not just the jewelry versions; they have the altar-sized disks. No one else in town sells those.”
I nodded, suddenly feeling something stir in my chest at seeing my friends coming together again. For a couple of seconds, it was hard to speak, and I had to fight to get my voice to come without cracking.
“Okay,” I said, my voice still a little thick. “Shade, can you talk to Collins for me? And you guys have the supply angle figured out. Lucas, you’re going to get an email later tonight. You’ll know what to do from there. And I’ll see you tomorrow at the memorial service, even if I have to sneak out to do it.”
“No,” Lucas said. I did a double take at the firm tone in his voice, but he stepped forward and put his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t push things with him. I don’t like that you gave him what he wants, but I get why you did it. And if he says no, then don’t risk pissing him off any more.”
I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “But I’ll be there if I can.”
“I know,” Lucas said. “I’m surprised he even let you come over tonight. He did let you come over, right? Right?”
“Technically, no,” I said. “He’s not home on Friday nights, so I snuck out. But don’t worry. I’ve got an inside man.”
“Dude, don’t push your luck,” he said. “Get the hell out of here then. Shade, can you get him back there? Like, an hour ago?” Shade put her arms around me from behind and kissed my neck before she answered.
“I’ll get him there before he even left,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
“When did you turn into the rational one?” I asked as Shade grabbed her backpack and her helmet.
Lucas’s face turned to stone and his voice was flat when he answered. “I’m not being rational, Chance. I’m being practical. I want your father to go down hard, and I’m not going to let anything get in the way of that. Not even you.” He turned away and sat back down against the wall, and I let Shade pull me out into the hall.
“Remind me to never piss Lucas off,” she said as she strapped her helmet on. She straddled the bike and looked over her shoulder at me as she started it.
“No shit,” I said. “That boy’s got his evil genius on.”
I stood at the back of the throng of mourners, still a little surprised that my father had let me come. The black suit I wore was hot and confining, but I figured I still deserved a little extra suffering. The minister read the usual passages of comfort from the Bible, and I saw a few heads nodding as at least a few people seemed to find the solace the words offered. From where I was, I could see Lucas as he sat under the awning with his grandfather. Wanda and her family and a handful of other folks sat with him, and I wondered if their presence somehow made the grief easier to bear. Dr. Corwyn and Dee stood a few yards away, and I had seen at least one Sentinel lurking near another headstone about a hundred yards away. The goon with me today shifted uncomfortably beside me, but I didn’t have any pity for him. Elias Kotsakas was one of the few guys who had been with the old man from the beginning, and also one of the few who didn’t have any compulsion spells laid on him. The only scars he had were on his fists, because he’d never even seen a fair fight up close. Where most of my father’s hired muscle would have had a handgun under their left arm, Elias carried a micro-Uzi and three spare magazines for what he had once gleefully called ‘crowd control.’ I wondered if the thin Kevlar vest my father had insisted I wear under my suit today was more for protection from his enemies, or his friends.
The minister started the closing prayer, and I bowed my head. When he said the final “Amen,” I looked over to see Elias with his head still up.
“I’m going to go talk to my friends,” I said to him. “Stay here.”
“I got orders to stick close to you,” he said.
“You know why my father agreed to let me show up to this?” I asked, tilting my head toward the black limo where my father and Mike Cassavetes waited in air-conditioned comfort. He shrugged. “Mike told him it would help with the custody case because the press and the paparazzi will make him look like Father of the Freakin’ Year. I think that guy over there has a telephoto lens. I’m sure the second I move, he’s going to start snapping pictures of me. And of you, if you act like a goon and follow me around with your head up my ass. I’m sure Dad would love it if you made him actually look like a criminal.” I watched the gears turn in his head for a few seconds.
“Don’t go far,” he finally said.
I gave him a dismissive wave and headed for Lucas. The guy with the long lens didn’t even point it at me. The few photographers that were there were pretty much interested in what the Spartan was up to. I only became interesting if I was close to him. I headed for the two caskets and laid the pair of roses I was holding on them, then went to Lucas.
“I’m sorry, man,” I said with my throat tight. He grabbed me in a fierce hug.
“Still not your fault,” he said in my ear before he stepped back. “I got that email. It’s done.”
“Good. How are you holding up otherwise?”
“I have my moments,” he said. “But … it could have been a lot worse. We didn’t argue the last time we saw each other or say anything stupid.”
Another mourner came up beside me, and I held my hand out. Something pressed against my palm when Lucas shook my hand, and he gave me a smile that didn’t last long enough to reach his eyes before he turned to talk to them. I pocketed whatever he’d given me, then turned to his grandfather.
“He told me you saved his life,” Hans said with a teary smile. “I thank God every day that you were there that night.”
“If that lady hadn’t hit him …” I said.
“Ja,” he said. “We forget the tiny miracles sometimes. But he won’t forget that he owes you his life.”
“I could live with that if it brought his parents back,” I said.
“Nothing will,” he said. “All you can do is give them justice.”
“I hope that’s enough.” He nodded and shook my hand, then turned to the next mourner. Wanda gave me a tearful hug and held me tight for a few moments. I moved on to find myself face to face with a pair of gray eyes I would know anywhere. With her hair pulled up under the black hat and most of her face covered by a gauzy veil, I didn’t recognize Shade until I was literally standing in front of her. Her eyes were red and I could see wet trails down her cheeks. Even without makeup, with her face a little blotchy from crying and her smile missing in action, she made my heart leap. I took her hands and cursed the black gloves she had on. I wanted to feel her skin on mine, the
comfort of her touch.
Her face suddenly lit up, and her lips turned up a little at the edges.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she said as the same words were leaving my mouth. Her smile got a little wider, and my world got a little brighter.
“Funerals suck,” I said, and she nodded. “Almost as bad as living with my old man.”
“How much longer are you stuck there?” she asked. “I miss talking to you, and seeing you. Wrestling in your backyard.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Too long, I know that. I miss you.”
She ran her right hand along the glove on her left, and pressed a plastic baggie with something rectangular inside it into my hand.
“Got something for you. It isn’t much, but it might help things go faster.”
“Thank you,” I whispered as I slipped it into my pocket.
“You’re welcome,” she said as she put her fingertips to her lips then pressed them to mine. “Your watchdog is coming this way.”
I nodded, lips aching to kiss her for real, then turned and moved to intercept Elias. He nodded toward the car and fell in step beside me as I turned to go to the limo. As we went, I stuck my hand in my pocket and opened the baggie, then slipped whatever Lucas had handed me into it before closing it up again. Now the trick would be getting it past my father’s paranoid security measures.
The driver got out and opened the door for me, and I slid into the back seat beside Cassavetes. Elias made for the black SUV behind it, and moments later we were on the road.
“Thank you for letting me go to the service, Dad,” I managed to say without cringing or gagging.
“Shut up, son,” my father snapped. I gave him a quick “Yes, sir” before lapsing into silence.
“We can spin this pretty easily,” Mike was saying. “Grief-stricken son pays respects to his friend’s family. Maybe send a wreath for the headstones.”
“Deal with it,” the old man said. “I’ve already wasted enough time on this good father bullshit. I swear, the boy’s a bigger pain in the ass now than he was before I gave him to Dulka. And that son of a bitch Corwyn was there, too. Something unfortunate needs to happen to him real soon.”
“I’m afraid that would only complicate things,” Cassavetes said. “But once the custody case is settled, I’m sure he’ll have an tragic accident.”
“Fuck an accident,” the old man snarled. “I want that fucker to pay for threatening me in front of my family. You got that?”
“Of course, sir. I’ll see to it personally.”
I sat there, ignored for the rest of the ride. While my father and Nick planned to get a shipment past customs, I slipped the baggie out of my pocket and stuck it between the seat cushions.
“Son, you didn’t hear any of what we talked about,” my father said as we pulled in the driveway to his McMansion. “I consoled you on your friend’s loss.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Thank you.” We got out and headed inside.
“Turn out your pockets, son,” he said as soon as we were past the doors. I did it without hesitating. “Give me your jacket.” It came off and I handed it to him. He searched through the pockets for a few moments, then tossed it on the floor and nodded to Nico, who stood ready with a bucket of ice water.
“Do we have to do that?” I asked.
“Yeah, we do,” my father said with a chilly smile. “Corwyn was there. He might have put some kind of spell on you.”
“Sir, if this is entirely necessary, may I suggest doing it outside or in the bathroom?” Jeremy said quickly. “The water runs into the carpet in the next room and mildews. The smell tends to permeate, and guests do remark on such things. Also, if pouring cold water over the lad removes spells, shall I summon Miss Lucinda to renew the compulsions?”
The old man turned to look at Jeremy, a thoughtful look on his face.
“Come to think of it, you’re right, Jerry,” he said, mangling the name. “Water doesn’t dispel spells. But I want it done anyway. He was around Corwyn; this ought to make him think twice about getting chummy with him. Nico, get him outta those pants and that shirt before you douse him. They’re dry-clean only. ”
A few minutes later I was standing out on the back patio, shivering as cold water ran down my body. Nico threw me a towel, and tossed a pair of sweats and a t-shirt on one of the patio chairs. I got dressed as quickly as I could then followed him back into the house. Then all I could do was wait.
If the mansion was empty on Friday night, on Saturday it was packed. Kara’s Lincoln Town Car left around seven, and several other cars pulled up around eight. Downstairs, I could hear men talking and laughing, and the occasional sound of a game of pool. The acrid smell of cigar smoke and the pungent odor of pot eventually overpowered the air conditioning. Around one, people started leaving, and by two, the downstairs was quiet. Kara’s Lincoln pulled in half an hour later, and at a quarter to three, I grabbed a few things and slipped out of my bedroom.
Further down, I could hear Kara crying out in a steady rhythm. Stifling the urge to pour bleach in my ears, I padded toward the opposite end of the house. Years ago, the live-in staff were at the far end of the other wing. I padded past their quarters to the stairway that ran down between the kitchen and the supply rooms. Just outside the kitchen was the master key box, the thing I really needed. With one end of a paper clip folded into a makeshift tension wrench, I bent the tip of another paperclip to serve as a pick. After a few minutes of work, I worked the tumblers into place and the lock turned for me. All of the key hooks were labeled, so it was only a few seconds before I had the keyring for the limo in hand and was heading for the garage. The remote unlocked the doors for me from ten feet away, and I dug the baggie out from between the seat cushions. Then I locked it back up and jogged back into the kitchen.
One thing I’d learned working for Dulka was to always have an alibi, so after I put the keys back in the box and locked it up again, I raided the pantry and the refrigerator. Sure enough, as I padded back down the upstairs hall, one of the doors opened, and a bleary-eyed Hispanic woman poked her head out. I held up the bottle of Pepsi and snacks I’d liberated from the kitchen, then smiled at her and put a finger to my lips before I put my hands together in a pleading gesture. She rolled her eyes and waved me on before she closed the door.
Finally, in the safety of my room, I pulled the baggie out of my waistband and dared to actually look at it. The first thing out was the thumb drive Lucas had given me, then the folded-up note. I opened the note first. Shade’s carefully done cursive strokes were covered by a Missouri driver’s license and a bank card. The bank card was also taped to an index card that had a website and an account user name and password written on it. Her ID guy had come through for me. Then I read the note.
Dear Chance,
I can’t tell you how much I miss you, baby. I’m going crazy not hearing your voice, and I can’t wait to be in your arms again. Promise me you’ll kiss me until I beg to come up for air.
I talked to Det. Collins. Herbert Vasquez is the youngest of three kids, and he’s a junior at Prescott High School. His father was in the Army, and he lost both legs in Iraq. His older brother works for the DEA, and he’s been missing in South America since April. Collins thinks Dulka may be promising him a way to find his brother. His address and phone number are on the back of the note. I hope this helps.
Come back to me soon, Chance. I miss you so much.
Love,
Shade
With a dozen things I wished I could say to Shade just then, I tucked the note into my waistband again and pulled out the thumb drive. For the first time since I’d been there, I got on the internet. The first thing I did was download a software security program and run it. Sure enough, the old man had planted a keystroke logger and some kind of program that would let him see what I was doing even while I was doing it. I killed both programs for the moment, but I didn’t delete them. Then I plugged the thumb drive in.
Lucas had a list of
all the things Gilbert had purchased. Everything he needed to cast the circle was on it, between what he’d ordered from my website and what he’d picked up in person at Spirit Garden and Mitternacht’s. But Lucas had gone more than the extra mile. He’d researched the spell using the mountain of notes Dr. C had made me write down during the first weeks I’d been his apprentice, and he’d found the place and time where it would have to be cast. Not to be anything less than thorough, Wanda had also left a note.
Chance,
I figure Shade told you about Gilbert’s dad and his brother. I talked to some people who know him, and I found out a little bit more about him. His family has all served either in the military or law enforcement. His older sister is trying to go to nursing school, but between his father’s medical bills and everything else, she’s not going to be able to. Since his brother has been missing, the DEA has held his paycheck until he comes back or he’s declared dead, so they can’t touch that money. She’s applying for scholarships but there’s some pretty tough competition for them. I think it’s a toss-up whether he’s asking Dulka to help his sister get into nursing school, or if he’s asking for his brother back. Either way, we think it’s going to be hard to convince him not to go through with whatever deal he’s being offered. Lucas thinks his father or his sister would be able to talk him out of this, but I’m not sure we should expose them to this.
The worst part about this is that Gilbert is a really good guy. Everyone who knows him says he’d do anything for his family. Including sell his soul, I guess. I don’t know if any of this helps, but I thought you’d want to know as much as possible.
Blessed be,
Wanda
I closed out the program and leaned back in the chair. The more I knew about this whole thing, the worse it got. From what I’d read, coming from a family of cops and soldiers meant he came from a long line of heroes. It was probably a lot to live up to, and with his sister wanting to go to nursing school, I could see the pressure to either find his brother or step up and somehow save the day for her.
