Death in the Hallows (Hank Mossberg, Private Ogre Book 2)

by Jamie Sedgwick

  Yeah, I’m just another San Francisco nut job who talks to cars, I thought.

  “How’d you do that?” he said, giving me a suspicious look.

  “Uh, nothing to it. I’ve got a knack.”

  ‘Right. Car whisperer, huh? Well thank you, Mr.-”

  “Mossberg. Hank Mossberg.”

  “Thanks a lot, Mr. Mossberg. My daughter and I owe you. We don’t have much money but if there’s any way we can repay you…”

  I handed him my business card. “Sure,” I said. “Send me a CD.”

  He grinned widely. “Seriously?”

  “Absolutely. You two are great. I think your daughter might have a great career ahead of her.”

  They left, promising to make a CD as soon as they got home. I watched them leave with a big smile on my face. I was feeling pretty good as I walked back down to the corner and stepped into Curly’s. Until I walked through the door and a baseball bat came crashing down across the back of my head.

  At the same time a fist came out of nowhere and slammed into my jaw. I staggered back, my eyes still adjusting to the dark interior of the place. I was stunned; confused. I’m not used to being hit like that. Not in a way that hurts. I’m a six-foot-six ogre. Most people wouldn’t dare even try to hit me. The ones that do usually find I’m quite resilient. My bones are strong as steel, and I don’t get rattled easily. I was surprised, because this did it. I actually saw stars.

  I reached for the pain in my jaw as I turned back towards the street, but somebody slammed the door behind me and shoved me forward. A burly hobgoblin appeared out of the shadows. Now it made sense. Hobgoblins are big, tough creatures. They’re larger than humans. Some of them are even bigger than me. This one was about the meanest looking fae I’d ever seen. He wore a button-front shirt with the sleeves torn off, displaying dozens of tattoos up and down his arms, chest, and neck. His head was shaved, and he had a tattoo up there, too, in the shape of a dragon’s head. His arms and chest bulged with muscles. He reminded me of the pro wrestlers on TV.

  “I didn’t know steroids worked on hobgoblins,” I said wittily. He didn’t appreciate my humor. He snarled and took another swing at me. I tried to back out of the way, but somebody pushed me from behind and his fist made solid contact with my nose. I shook my head, clearing the stars out of my vision. I looked up at him and saw that he was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Do that again and you’ll be drinking your dinner through a straw,” I said.

  He took another swing at me, but this time I was ready for it. I knew the guy behind me wouldn’t let me move out of the way. I twisted slightly and threw my elbow back as hard as I could into the guy’s ribs. He was a little shorter than I had estimated, though. Instead of his ribs I smacked him right in the face. He tumbled back and crashed through a bar table.

  I stepped forward, inside the hobgoblin’s swing and caught him by the forearm. A look of shock swept across his face as my right hand slammed into his jaw. He staggered back, dazed. I reached out and caught him by the collar. I gave him another nose-crushing blow just for good measure. Then I pulled him close and put my hand on his face. I felt the energy surge out of him and his eyes rolled back in his head. I let him drop to the floor.

  I turned to check on the little guy. Sure enough, he was coming at me with his baseball bat. And he was human. He paused when I turned to face him. I let out a roar like a wild animal. I mean that literally. It’s one of my gifts. When I want to, I can bellow out a noise that’d make you think you’re facing down a six-hundred pound lion. What little courage he had vanished and he dropped the bat and ran out the front door.

  I scanned the bar and found the place empty. I wasn’t sure where Curly was, but I suspected he might have hightailed it out of there to avoid becoming a witness to my murder. I knelt down next to the hobgoblin and saw his eyelashes fluttering. I slapped his cheeks. “Wake up,” I said. “Come on, wake up, sleeping beauty.”

  I gave him a few seconds. Eventually, his eyes came into focus and he looked up at me. I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to his feet. “Who are you working for?” I said. He stared at me. He was still confused. I don’t think he’d ever been hit that hard before. “Who’s your boss? Tell me, or I’ll bust your rotten-”

  “I’m his boss,” said a voice across the room. A goblin stood in the doorway. He was dressed in expensive clothes, gold chains and rings flashing in the dim light, his hair combed straight back over his head. He looked like a drug lord.

  “You O’Rourke?” I said.

  He shot the hobgoblin a disgusted look and said, “Take a break.” Then he looked at me. “This way,” he said. He turned and walked into the next room. I followed, more carefully this time. We walked past several pool tables to a booth at the back of the room. He took a seat and motioned for me to join him. “You been lookin’ for me?” he said.

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “I’m sorry about Bruno, he gets a little carried away.”

  “Sure he does,” I said. I knew perfectly well that Bruno was simply carrying out O’Rourke’s orders. “Next time you put your goons on me, I might get carried away,” I said threateningly.

  “Easy Steward, it was just a misunderstanding, that’s all. Can I buy you a drink?”

  “No. I have a few questions for you.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “Tell me about Flick Hunter.”

  “Hunter?” he said. He stared up at the ceiling. “Not sure I know that name… Hunter.”

  “You know it,” I said. “He came to see you a couple weeks ago.” I folded my fists together and cracked my knuckles loudly. “Maybe I need to refresh your memory.”

  “Oh, wait!” he said suddenly. “Flick Hunter. Now I know who you’re talking about. He’s that reporter guy.”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Why you askin’ about him?”

  “Because last night somebody killed him, and right now you’re at the top of my list of suspects.”

  “Hey, whoa,” he said. “I don’t know nothin’ about Flick gettin’ killed. I was here all night last night, you can ask anybody.”

  “I will,” I said. “Why did Flick come to you?”

  “He wanted to know about some stuff. You know, hard to find stuff.”

  “Like artifacts?” I said.

  “Sure, that would be hard to find.”

  “Harder still if they were magical weapons,” I said. “Especially since they’ve been illegal for centuries.”

  “You got a point there.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I said that stuff’s illegal, of course.”

  “Don’t jerk me around, O’Rourke. I can have this place shut down in twenty minutes. What did you tell him?”

  “Okay, okay. I told him they’re hard to find, but they can be found, if you know what I mean.”

  “Where can they be found?”

  He gave me a skeptical look. “Steward, I understand your situation but I can’t give you my contacts or I’ll be out of business. That’s if I’m lucky.”

  “What did you tell Flick?”

  He shrugged and made a casual gesture. “I said the mayor’s got a collection. I said he might have a piece or two to sell.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Sure, why not? It wasn’t like he wanted to buy anything, he was just snooping around.”

  “So you sent him snooping on the mayor?”

  The goblin chuckled. “Yeah, I figured that’d keep him out of my hair.”

  I showed him the picture of Excalibur. “Do you recognize this?” I said.

  He glanced at it and put on a thoughtful expression. “Doesn’t look like anything I’ve sold… seen, I mean. Where’d you find it?”

  “This is the weapon that killed Flick. It belongs to the mayor.”

  He smiled slyly. “Well, ain’t that a story. Too bad Flick won’t be writing it.”

  I was getting nowhere with O’Rourke and I was about to
break his neck, so I figured it was time to leave. I gave him my card. “Call me if you hear anything,” I said. “Or if you remember where I can get one of those weapons.”

  I was fuming when I left, and not just because O’Rourke’s goons had given me a migraine. O’Rourke knew more than he was saying. I just couldn’t figure out how to get it out of him. It was clear that he wasn’t just worried about his business. He was worried about what would happen to him if he snitched. The people supplying those weapons were not nice. If they had scared a guy like O’Rourke, there was no telling what they might be capable of. Murder came to mind. Flick must have gotten a little too close and made them nervous. That would explain why they’d killed him.

  But who were they? And how had Flick found them?

  Once again, the only trail I had led back to the mayor. That was the last place I wanted to go. I tried to put myself in Flick’s shoes. Mentally, I retraced his steps, considering what Flick would have done next. I doubted he would have been any more excited about the prospect of visiting the mayor than I was, especially since the legality of owning those weapons was at best a gray area. They were illegal to manufacture and sell, but I didn’t know of any specific law against owning them. After all, somebody had to own them even it was the police or a museum.

  Would Flick have gone directly to the mayor and asked him about the weapons? I couldn’t be sure. It would have been a bold move. There was another lingering question at the back of my mind that I didn’t even want to think, much less say aloud: Would the mayor have killed him for it?

  I decided it was too soon to go to the mayor. At the very least I needed some information first. I knew just the place to go. I had a friend in Belvedere, a computer-hacking gnome named Tas. The guy’s a genius. But before I could go see him, I had another important engagement. It was time for Butch’s wedding.

  Chapter 4

  I took a cab back to the Mother tree. On the way, I called Butch to make sure he had recovered from his drinking and told him I’d pick him up shortly. “No need, Boss,” he said. “Talia’s parents are picking me up right now.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I didn’t realize…”

  “Me either,” he said, lowering his voice. “Seems they weren’t sure I could make it on my own.”

  I laughed. “All right then, I’m going to swing by my place to pick up the ring. I’ll see you there.”

  I hung up just in time to see brake lights in front of the cab. Traffic came to a dead stop. We sat there for fifteen minutes before the cabby managed to pull onto a side street. As it turned out, there had been an accident on Van Ness. We started making our way back to the Mother tree using lesser-traveled side streets. It was a brilliant idea. I knew it was, because everyone else had the exact same idea. The side streets and alleys along Van Ness filled up faster than a Starbuck’s on Monday morning.

  The cab driver was a pro. She urged me to be patient as she backtracked up Ninth Street and then wove her way back and forth between Folsom and Howard until traffic opened up just a few blocks from the Business District. I gave her an extra tip of course, despite the fact that the extended cab ride had nearly tapped me out financially. I tried not to think about it as I handed over a twenty. She responded by handing me her business card.

  “That’s my cell number on the back,” she said with a smile.

  Despite everything, I couldn’t help but smile back. Even though I was already in a relationship, it was nice to know that someone else out there might be willing to take a shot. She was pretty, too, in a plain sort of way. She wasn’t wearing much in the way of makeup, and her hair was naturally dark with a few streaks of gray, but that didn’t bother me a bit. No point fixing what isn’t broken. Besides, I’ve seen women like that when they do get cleaned up, and it can be breathtaking.

  I shoved her card into my coat pocket, knowing full well that I’d have to toss it out before Annie found it. I stepped into the apartment building and the smile on my face faded as I noticed the big clock hanging on the wall over the newsstand. I had half an hour to get cleaned up and drive all the way across town to the wedding. I pulled Butch’s ring out of my safe and paused on my way out of the room as I realized I had a voicemail flashing on my phone.

  It was Annie:

  “Hank, it’s me. I tried your cell phone but I didn’t get an answer. When are you going to upgrade that piece of junk? Half the time I can’t even get through to you. Anyway, I wanted to remind you that I’m going to the wedding early with Talia to make sure everything’s perfect. The tuxedo shop called and said you can pick up your tux anytime this morning. And don’t forget the ring!”

  I glanced helplessly into the hall mirror and looked at myself. I was flat out haggard. My trench coat and fedora looked faded and worn, my clothes rumpled, my face unshaven and exhausted. I looked half-dead. I needed a shave, a shower, and a nap. And I needed my tux. How could I forget the tux?

  I cleaned up as much as I could in five minutes and then ran full tilt out of the building. The elves, dwarves and other fae creatures made room for me as I passed, but otherwise paid little attention. They’re used to me doing stuff like that.

  I hit the road in my Blazer a few minutes later. I knew the way around the accident on Van Ness, but unfortunately, I had to get to the south end of town to pick up my tuxedo and then travel almost all the way back to Golden Gate Park for the wedding. I broke traffic laws. More than one. I managed to avoid getting a ticket, but I still got to the wedding twenty minutes late.

  Butch’s fiancé Talia had chosen the Tea Gardens as the venue, and she couldn’t have made a better choice. The Japanese architecture and landscaping were breathtaking, especially under the full-blown plumage of autumn colors. The party coordinators had set up a gazebo in a clearing off the path. They placed the entire area under an enchantment to keep unwanted guests away. Humans, to be blunt. To my ogre eyes, all I saw was a slight shimmering in the trees overhead as I jogged down the path.

  I had already changed into the tux back at the tuxedo shop, and I grimaced as I felt myself starting to sweat. As usual, everything possible seemed to be going wrong. On the most important day of Butch’s life, his best man was going to be a big, sweaty ogre. A twenty-minute late ogre.

  “Where have you been?” Annie hissed at me the instant I appeared at the back of the clearing. “I’m doing everything in my power to hold this thing together and you can’t even get here on time?”

  “I’m sorry, I had to get my tux,” I said. “There was an accident!” I glanced around at the guests and found most of them staring at me. I smiled nervously.

  Annie reached up to straighten my tie and gave me a once over. “Well, you don’t look too bad,” she said thoughtfully. “I didn’t realize I’d need to babysit you, too.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “I’m here, aren’t I?” I said. “And I’m not even late. It hasn’t started yet.”

  “You are late,” she said. “Lucky for you, we’ve been putting out fires all morning. I never knew a wedding could be this much trouble.”

  I grinned. “Everything looks great,” I said. “You’ve done a brilliant job.”

  “You say that now. You should have been here when the tree fell down, or when the first podium caught fire.”

  My eyes widened. “The first podium?”

  Annie pressed her hands to her temples. “You really have no idea, Hank. It’s been like that all morning. I think somebody’s trying to sabotage this wedding.”

  I gave her a skeptical look. “Really? Sabotage?”

  “Yes. My money’s on Talia’s sister Dwana.”

  I glanced over the crowd. “Which one’s that?”

  Annie nodded and I followed her gaze to a pretty young wood elf off to our right. She had dark violet-colored hair and her skin was a shade or two darker than Talia’s. Among humans such differences can be important, but among the fae it’s normal. Fae blood isn’t consistent by any definition of the word. A fae’s features can change throughout his enti
re life to better suit his interests or chosen career path. A musician’s hands might get larger for instance, or a female archer’s breasts might grow smaller while her vision gets sharper. Well, there aren’t too many professional archers around these days, but you get my point.

  To the fae it’s odd that humans stay more or less the same throughout their lives, only changing with age. It may sound strange but if you think about it, the rest of the flora and fauna on this planet are more like the fae than they are like humans. Plants and animals evolve over time to better suit their environment, just like the fae. Natural selection weeds out the weakest, or the species unsuited to the environment. Fae change in the same way, albeit faster. Not humans, though. Humans seem to be stuck in a rut.

  Dwana was talking to Talia and some other guests, and I looked her over for a few seconds. She was every bit as attractive as her sister, if a bit plumper and less refined. She seemed very happy outwardly, but I knew that could be faked. Judging from her body language and the revealing way she fit her bridesmaid dress, I gathered that she liked attention. Lots of it. If I were any judge of character, I’d have guessed she was simply spoiled.

  “She’s pretty,” I said. “What’s the problem with her?”

  “Don’t get any ideas,” Annie said defensively. “She’s a trouble maker. She’s selfish, narcissistic, and insanely jealous. She has suddenly decided that she’s in love with Butch.”

  I laughed aloud. Annie shot me a glare, and I fell silent. “You’re serious?” I said, searching her face.

  “Dead serious.”

  I scratched the back of my head. I had never known Butch to be a ladies’ man. In fact, most of his friends had been quite surprised when Talia took an interest in him. Her sudden decision to marry him had knocked us off our collective feet. Now Annie was telling me that Talia’s sister was in love with Butch, too… it just didn’t make sense. I frowned.