by E.J. Stevens
I cocked my head to the side and listened for the telltale sound of footsteps, but the only sounds were the squeak of rats and the dripping of water. Satisfied that I was alone, I wrenched the metal grid away from the opening, revealing a tunnel that was large enough for two adult humans to walk upright side-by-side.
I left the bolt cutters under the bridge and drew one of my knives. Leading with the flashlight in my left hand, I held my knife in a hammer grip, elbows at my sides. Sidestepping a pool of foul smelling liquid, I strode into the tunnel.
I gasped, nearly losing my footing as my boot hit a slick surface as slippery as ice. Damn, that was close. I did not want to end up on my ass in a sewer pipe. I grimaced, shining the light at my feet and along the walls. The tunnel was coated in thick slime.
I frowned and continued forward, gingerly stepping through the filth. In some places it looked like something had been dragged through the sludge. If it had been one of our victims, I just hoped they were already dead at the time. That liquid smelled like the ass end of an ogre.
I grit my teeth and tried to hold my breath until I started to see stars. Grimacing, I inhaled shallowly, but the sparks of light didn’t go away.
“What the hell?” I muttered.
I’d come to a metal door set into the tunnel. The bottom of the door had narrow openings for allowing the flow of sewage, but the rest of the door was solid metal. I couldn’t see into the tunnel beyond, but I had a feeling that the monster behind the killings had spent time here. There were bones strewn all around the door.
I lifted what may have been a femur from the floor and probed at the sparkling air in front of the door. The bone kicked out of my hand and I was flung down the tunnel, my boots sliding in the muck. I shook my head and glared at the shifting light.
Son of a bitch.
The door was sealed by magic, warded against being opened from this side. I straightened and returned to examine the area around the door more closely. There, engraved into the stone on either side of the door were a series of strange symbols.
I sighed and traced the design with my eyes. Maybe I could convince Celeste to come down here and take a look at it—if she was still talking to me. That was one bridge I probably shouldn’t have burned. Funny how I managed to alienate myself from the local Guild members in less time than it takes to make a pot of coffee.
I shook my head and scowled at the magically sealed door. For now, there was nothing else I could do. I wasn’t making it through that door without the help of a witch.
A skull leered at me from the pile of bones at my feet and I frowned. I’d hoped this lead would pan out, but I wasn’t getting any answers from these tunnels today.
It was a dead end.
Chapter 16
“Dead bodies carry a unique smell of rot and decay that’s hard to forget.”
-Jenna Lehane, Hunter
A few of the restaurant patrons gave me funny looks, and I felt heat rising to my face. Did I still smell like the sewers? I had a feeling that my hasty shower hadn’t been as effective as I’d hoped. It was a good thing that Ash had no sense of smell.
Then again, maybe they were just appalled at the way his scarf clashed with his hat and vest. Today he was wearing a lime green patterned scarf that looked paisley, but on closer inspection was a riot of white and red zombie unicorns. He also had on his tattered fedora with the purple and green feathers, and an orange and black pinstriped vest that made him look like some kind of Halloween mob boss.
The overall effect added to the headache, that I suspected was from my close proximity to a group of giggling ghosts who were tittering at us from behind lace hankies. I massaged my temples and ordered a black coffee and the Flemish stew.
“Will that be all?” the waiter asked.
I shrugged and waved a hand at Ash sitting across the café table.
“I don’t know, ask him,” I said.
The waiter looked over at Ash, who waved him off. The waiter fumbled his order pad and hastily backed away, muttering something about crazy Americans. He seemed all too happy to make his escape. Maybe I looked as grumpy as I felt.
I leaned back in my chair and let out a groan.
“Long night?” Ash asked.
“You have no idea,” I said.
“I find that oddly reassuring,” he said.
“How’s that?” I asked.
A kid in an apron brought me my coffee, and I took a sip. It was strong and black and came with a sprinkling of chocolate. I let out a deep, gratified sigh. By Athena, that was good.
“It means, love, I’m glad you’re not as stodgy as you look,” he said with a wink.
“Stodgy?” I asked.
“Aye, priggish,” he said.
I rolled my eyes.
“If you’re going to insult me, at least speak English,” I muttered into my coffee cup.
Ash smiled and leaned forward.
“So, tell me all the gory details,” he said.
“About what?” I asked.
“Your night on the town,” he said. “What do you think of Bruges?”
I tilted my head, considering my night. I’d been attacked by a canal spider, rummaged through some old bones, hung out with a disemboweled child, and stabbed a grindylow. But I was pretty sure those weren’t the kind of gory details Ash was after.
“I almost fell in the canal,” I said, a grin tugging at my lips.
His eyes gleamed, and one of his eyebrows became lost beneath the brim of his hat.
“And?” he asked.
“And now I have a headache,” I said.
He let out a pleased laugh.
“You’ll have to let me show you a night on the town before you scamper,” he said.
I shook my head.
“I don’t think you could handle a night with me,” I said.
“Is that an invitation?” he asked.
I let out a strangled ngh.
“You are the most…” I started, at a loss for words.
“Handsome, charming, witty,” he said.
“I was thinking more like arrogant and irritating,” I said, stabbing at my food.
The dish had appeared seconds before, delivered by a wide-eyed bus boy who obviously didn’t want to get caught in our argument. I scowled and chewed the chunks of meat and vegetables. Why did every conversation with Ash have to turn into an argument?
More importantly, what was I doing still hanging out with the guy?
“Hey,” I said, narrowing my eyes at Ash. “I thought the whole point of this lunch was me paying off my debt. Aren’t you going to eat something? It’s on my dime.”
Yes, he’d won our race to the top of the bell tower. I had no idea how that was possible. The way the guy smoked, he should have been winded after the first hundred steps or so.
“No, love,” he said. “You can pay me back with a walk along Minnewater Lake.”
The Lake of Love? He had to be kidding. But that had been where I’d seen a gathering of swan maidens yesterday. Now that I was wearing faerie ointment, there was a good chance I’d be able to see what the fae were up to. With Ash at my side, we’d look like just another young couple hell-bent on a romantic walk.
“Fine,” I said, letting out a sigh. “But that’s it. I told you before. I’m not on vacation.”
“I know, I know,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “But all work and no play make Jenna a stodgy girl.”
I scraped my bowl clean and eyed my coffee cup longingly, but I didn’t have all day to sit around on my ass. I needed to figure out what was going on in this city’s supernatural community before another body turned up in the canals.
At least I wouldn’t have to listen to those tittering ghosts anymore. I stood and dropped a few Euro notes on the table, and muttered, “so what’s so goddamned funny?” as I passed their table. That just made the ghosts laugh harder. A couple at the next table over looked apoplectic, but they kept their eyes studiously averted.
I shoo
k my head. Damn ghosts. They had a habit of making me look like a crazy person.
I hurried away from the café, following Ash down a familiar street. We were heading back in the direction we’d come yesterday on our walk from the train station. I smiled, noting a few recognizable landmarks. I was finally starting to get the hang of this place.
But when we turned the corner, near a fountain with carved horse heads, the stretch of green along the canal was empty. I hurried to a nearby railing, leaning as far as I could to get a look at the water below. There was nothing here but a handful of ducks and a mundane pair of swans.
The swan maidens were gone.
“What’s the matter, love?” Ash asked, leaning against the railing.
He looked like he was posing for a fashion magazine, though I doubted even runway models would be caught dead wearing that outfit.
“Where are the swans?” I asked, hurrying along the railing for a better look.
Ash sighed, but followed.
“They’re right there,” he said, pointing at the two white birds swimming below.
It was my turn to sigh. I grit my teeth and tried not to snap at him. It wasn’t completely his fault. It’s not like I could tell him that the birds I was looking for were really shapeshifting faeries.
“But, there were a lot more of them yesterday,” I said.
Something had the swan maidens spooked.
“You have a point,” he said, scanning the shore for signs of the elusive water fowl. The skin around his eyes tightened and he frowned, but when he turned around again the look was gone.
“Oh well,” I said with a shrug. “I guess I should have taken a better look at them yesterday.”
“Bit difficult to admire the beauty of the city’s heraldic bird when you’re throwing yourself in front of a moving carriage,” he said with a smirk.
“Damn it, Ash,” I said, shaking my head. “That was an accident.”
“Well then, we’ll have to be careful on our walk,” he said, holding out his arm. “We don’t want any more accidents.”
I pushed past, ignoring his arm, and walked down toward the lake. But as we stepped onto the bridge that sat just above the lock gate, where the canal met Minnewater Lake, I was hit with a vile stench and this time it had nothing to do with the sewers.
The smell of death was unmistakable. Dead bodies carry a unique smell of rot and decay that’s hard to forget. Unfortunately, I’d been around my fair share of dead people.
There had been another murder. I was sure of it.
Chapter 17
“You never can be too careful with a supernatural predator on the loose.”
-Jenna Lehane, Hunter
I had to wait until later that evening to investigate the lock gate. During the daytime Minnewater Park was filled with tourists. But now the place was still as the grave.
I shivered, pulling up the neck of my leather jacket. Night had fallen and lanterns cast the mouths of doorways and alleys into ink black shadow.
Standing in a secluded spot beside the back wall of the Beguinage, I watched for any sign of movement. You never can be too careful with a supernatural predator on the loose—I wasn’t the only hunter who stalked the city at night.
Mist rolled in off the lake, swallowing the landscape. It took patience, but I studied the shifting fog until I was certain of my surroundings.
The swan maidens were gone. Wherever they’d flown off to, they weren’t yet ready to come out of hiding. If what I’d smelled earlier was any indication, I couldn’t blame them. Swan maidens thrive on the happy energy that humans give off when they’re in love or lust, but someone had left a nasty little gift in their love nest.
There’s nothing like a dead body to ruin the mood.
Satisfied that there were no obvious threats, I slipped through the shadows toward the lock gate. Instead of walking out onto the stone bridge, I slung a leg over the metal railing designed to keep tourists from disturbing the swans. Once I was past the railing, I crouched and moved down to the water’s edge.
Looking back the way I’d come, I checked the street one more time before turning on my flashlight. I directed the beam of light under the bridge to the lock gate itself. There was an assortment of floating detritus; grass clippings, leaves, a Styrofoam cup—and a dead body.
I shook my head and swore. I’d hoped that it would be the body of a river rat, or maybe even a dead swan, but the victim was human. Our killer had taken another life.
I turned off the flashlight and dialed the one person who could help me retrieve a body and transport it back to the Guild’s morgue.
“Hello?” Benjamin Martens’ sleepy voice answered.
“What’s up, Doc?” I asked.
“A boot up your ass is what’s up,” he said. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
I heard the sound of fabric against vinyl as he sat up. Martens must have fallen asleep on the cheap couch in the infirmary’s waiting room.
“Yes, it’s time you got your grouchy old ass down to the lock gate at Minnewater Lake,” I said.
“And why the hell would I do that?” he asked.
“Because we have ourselves another dead body,” I said.
Martens swore and hung up. I guess the guy wasn’t a morning person. Or, maybe he just didn’t like me very much. I’d given him a hard time about the lack of information in his autopsy reports and then tossed him the responsibility of getting Celeste sober. I probably wasn’t his favorite person right now.
While I waited for the doctor, I snapped off pictures of the crime scene with my cell phone and poked around the embankment. When Martens pulled up with the Guild’s hearse, I’d already pulled a branch down from a nearby tree and used it to steer the body to shore.
“You better not be wasting my time with someone’s dead cat,” Martens said, stumbling down the embankment.
“I know what a dead body looks like, Doc,” I said. I tapped my foot, fidgeting with the branch in my hand. “Can I bring the body on shore?”
I’d waited for the doctor out of respect for his position within the Guild, but now I wondered why I even bothered. His shirt buttons were done up wrong, and he smelled like cheap beer. He nodded an affirmative and swayed on his feet.
I shook my head and grabbed hold of the corpse, dragging it onto shore. At another nod from Martens, I flipped the body over. Martens let out a heavy sigh.
“Come on,” he said. “Help me get this up to the hearse. We need better light than this if I’m going to determine cause of death.”
From the look of the body, I’d say we needed a garden hose. The dead man, or woman, was covered in mud, matted leaves, and darker stains that were probably blood. I’d hoped to learn more about our killer as soon as we pulled the victim from the canal, but Martens was right. We needed to get the body back to the morgue.
I nodded and we proceeded to do the grisly job of hoisting the waterlogged corpse into a body bag, onto a portable stretcher, and carrying it up the embankment. Once we had it safely stored inside the hearse, with none of the citizens of Bruges the wiser, I smiled.
“Good thing you had a hearse,” I said. “I’d hate to try getting a body into most of the compact cars you guys drive here.”
“It’s the Guild’s,” he said. “Comes in handy for situations like these.”
I started to walk toward the passenger door, but Martens shook his head.
“You’re going to have to ride in the far back,” he said.
“With the corpse?” I asked, incredulous.
“Sorry, no room up here,” he said.
It was then that I noticed the sleeping bag in the back seat along with a basket of clothes and empty food wrappers.
“You living in here, Doc?” I asked.
There were also kid’s things in the front seat, a discarded doll and some books. Was he living here with his kid? I shook my head and walked to the back of the hearse. With a frustrated growl, I climbed in, pulled the door shut, and sl
id in next to the body.
I tried breathing in through my mouth, ignoring the swampy, fishy smell of the canal and the putrid stench of death.
“Things have been tough since my wife died,” Martens said, pulling away from the curb.
His words were a welcome distraction and I tried to ignore my seat mate.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be,” he said. “She was a Hunter, she knew the risks.”
Silence descended on the hearse, but I had no idea what to say to lighten the mood. I was much better at killing monsters than dealing with people.
At the Guild, Martens pulled the hearse into an underground garage with a bay door that led directly into the morgue. When he turned the motor off, I hopped out and helped him with the body. I was anxious to find out if this victim could give us some answers, but Martens paused before going further into the building.
“Look, you seem like a good kid,” he said. “I know you want to make a name for yourself while you’re here. It’s as a plain as day that you have something to prove. But keep in mind that you’re a long way from home, and Master Peeters isn’t here to roll out the welcome wagon. So let me give you a word of advice; stay off Chad’s radar.”
“Are you telling me not to do my job?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest.
“I’m telling you to keep your head down,” he said. “Chad’s a zealot who hates women in the guild almost as much as he hates supernaturals.”
“Like witches,” I said.
What he said about Chadwick tracked. I’d seen how the guy treated Celeste. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was partly responsible for her Mandragora addiction.
“Precisely,” he said, nodding. “He says that women and supernaturals dilute the purity of the Guild. He won’t stand by and watch as some girl steals his limelight.”
I grimaced and shook my head.
“This isn’t a game I can throw,” I said. “These are people’s lives at stake. I’m not backing down because some prick has a problem with women.”
“Well, do your best to stay away from him while you’re here,” he said. “He’s trouble and I don’t trust him.”
