by Leod D. Fitz
“This is Sam.”
“Ms. Neil? This is Walter Keppler.”
“Keppler?”
“The mortician.”
There was silence from the other end of the phone.
I sighed. “You walked in on my dead body the other day?”
“Oh! Mr. Keppler, of course. I'm so sorry; what can I help you with?”
I cleared my throat, preparing what I considered one of my most obvious lies ever. “So, I was thinking about what you said, and I would like to meet with, uh, that girl. Uh, Penny?”
There was a pause from the other side of the line, and I could hear, faintly, the sound of rustling papers. “Patricia.”
“Right, of course. Patricia. I'd like to meet Patricia.”
“Glad to hear it. Can I ask what changed your mind?”
I grimaced, I hadn't expected to be quizzed on my motives. “She sounds like a lonely young woman. I know what that's like.” I paused. “To be lonely, I mean. Not a young woman.”
“Uh-huh. Well, when would be a good time for you? And where?”
Crap. I really should have thought all of this through. “Uh, my office would be fine.”
“Really? You want to meet her at a funeral home?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, no. The funeral home is fine. It’s actually pretty close to her high school. When would be a good time for her to come by?”
“Um, how about this afternoon? We can chat for as long as she wants, and I’ll give her a ride home later in the evening.”
“On a school night?”
Shit. “Right. Good point. Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Excellent. I'll see if she wants to go after school. I can't promise she'll agree, of course, but I'll let her know the invitation is there.”
Invitation? I hadn't even thought about her not coming. Dammit, this was going to be a lot harder than I thought.
“Of course. Oh, and uh, tell her I say hello. Or something.”
I hung up the phone before the social worker could ask me anymore questions. What else had I overlooked? Would our time together be supervised? It hadn't even occurred to me to worry about that before, but now that I was taking the time to think it over, it didn't seem unreasonable. And I couldn't ask the girl... Patricia, I couldn't ask Patricia what I really needed to know if some tightly wound normal was standing over her shoulder.
“If it isn't one thing, it's two others,” I grumbled as I paced back and forth in my tiny office.
But there wasn't anything I could do about it. Not yet, anyhow. And I had other more pressing concerns, like trying to figure out why a couple of chimeras thought I had one of their mysterious keys.
Since I didn't know anything about what they were looking for, the most likely explanation was that somebody had pointed them at me; like a gun.
I also needed to figure out how many of them were after me. Hopefully it was just the two. Andres and the giant.
Andres and the giant! I chuckled.
I’d rather liked Andres the Giant growing up. Not because I liked professional wrestling, but because he was powerful and funny looking. My kind of guy.
My amusement dissipated quickly, however. What I needed was information. I needed to talk to someone with an ear to the ground and friends in all the right places, or possibly all the wrong places.
I straightened my spine to an uncomfortable approximation of humanity, and headed out of my office.
Percy was shaking an old woman's hand and offering some insincere, but well faked sympathy for her loss.
I waited until the customer had moved into the viewing room to approach my assistant.
Percy grimaced at me. “What now? Do I have to give you one of my kidneys for lunch to make up for my little goof?”
I replied with a tight smile, and a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight enough to bruise. “After your little goof, you should be happy I'm not taking both of your kidneys. Now lose the attitude and pull out your little black book. I need you to put me in contact with someone.”
Percy gave me a quizzical look. “You need a date, boss?”
“Huh?” I released his shoulder. “I just want to talk to someone who's up on the latest gossip. Specifically, about new players in town.”
“Oh.” Percy shook his head at me. “'Little black book' is euphemistic for a list of girls you can call for dates or casual sex.”
“Really? I thought little black books were what you called general address books.”
“No. Those are just address books.” Percy pulled his phone out of his pocket and began sorting through the numbers. “But these days nothing is on paper anymore. They should really change the name, but you can't call it a little black list, that just sounds like a short list of people who can't get hired. Maybe a 'dirty little list.' I don't know.”
I rolled my eyes. “The name, Percy?”
My assistant pursed his lips and contemplated something on his phone. “Yeah, this is your guy. Thomas Boggle.”
I snorted. “Boggle? That's a real name?”
“Probably not.” Percy pulled out a pen and a slip of paper and jotted some information down for me as he spoke. “He's never said it, exactly, but I get the feeling he's gone through a few identities.”
“Uh-huh.” I took the paper Percy offered and scanned the information. “Yale Avenue? That's ass deep in crotchsniffer territory.”
“Yeah.” Percy looked uncomfortable.
I winced. “He's a fucking crotchsniffer?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Ghouls are not popular with anyone in the supernatural community. At least, we aren't popular with anyone I've ever met, but we are useful, so most of the time whoever I’m dealing with manages to swallow whatever level of loathing they might have while we do business. Even the neckbiters, most of whom view me with slightly less fondness than the skidmarks they left in their drawers before they were turned, will limit themselves to a few casual insults when I have something business related to talk to them about.
Werewolves are rarely so restrained. With the exception of their annual ball, and the times they have to bring some remains to me for disposal, the crotchsniffers consider the very sight of me to be a deep and personal insult, so on the rare occasion that I have to speak to one of them, I’m basically walking in to the middle of a brawl.
Their feelings only get more pronounced the closer we were to the full moon. As the last full moon had been less than a week ago, they’d all still be running hot, and there was a very real chance the shapeshifting ass-hats would try to kill me if they caught me in their territory. Especially if I happened upon a group of them.
I sighed and stared at the info. “Any chance you could give him a call and have him meet me somewhere?”
Thomas Boggle was a psychopath. I knew that from my first good sniff. The man had blood on his hands. Literally. He'd washed it off, scrubbed it well enough that the rest of the crotchsniffers probably couldn't smell it, but I could. And I could tell that it was recent, too, a lot more recent than the last full moon. Two days, maybe less.
That alone didn't mean much; I'd killed a few people in my time, that sort of thing came up. The faint whiff of chloroform, however, suggested to me that he hadn't so much been forced into murder as gone out looking for it. And the way he was looking at our waitress made me think that he might be interested in finding someone to take the place of whoever he'd so recently finished with.
As a rule, I don't involve myself in other people's problems, but men like Tom took risks that endangered all of us. Unfortunately, Tom had the protection of a powerful pack for as long as he could keep his secret, and my word would count for nothing, especially since the crotchsniffers thought that they had the strongest nose in the supernatural community.
I forced a smile as I ordered a cup of coffee, and handed the waitress my credit card for that and the small feast Thomas had ordered.
He watched our waitress's swaying hips until she disappeared
into the kitchen.
I cleared my throat. “This is a nice place. You come here often?”
“It's a shithole and I've never been here before in my life,” Thomas growled. “Do you know what'll happen to me if anyone from the pack sees me hanging out with a shiteater?”
“I imagine it wouldn't go well for you,” I admitted.
“They'd drag me out of town and beat me into chuck. It'd take me to the full moon to heal, and then they'd probably make me leave town.”
“Yeah, that would be a shame.” I managed to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “Percy did make it worth your while, though, didn't he?”
“I'm here, aren't I? Just tell me what you want.”
“There are some unpleasant visitors in town. I want to know what you know about them.”
Tom chuckled. “You'll have to be more specific. There are half a dozen were-rats at some convention near campus, and a pair of elder vampires staying in an abandoned warehouse. I've heard rumors about a necromancer hanging around in Old Town, and the word is, we've got a dark muse in Lusland. And then there are those beasts from Europe –.”
“Beasts from Europe?” I raised an eyebrow. “Those might be them. What do you know?”
Thomas opened his mouth to reply, then shut it as the waitress showed up with our drinks.
I sipped the coffee. It wasn't bad, but not nearly as bitter as I like it.
Tom drained half of his soda in a go, and gave the girl a suggestive wink before she turned away.
Once she was out of earshot, he leaned in. “I don't know much about them. They got into town, like, three days ago, maybe four. They came in by train, for whatever that's worth. They've got a place, an abandoned house or a storage unit or something, out in Purley.”
“There are a lot of abandoned buildings in Purley. You think you can narrow it down a bit?”
“If I could have, I would have.” He sneered at me as he spoke. “I don't even know if they're all in the same place or not.”
“All?” That didn't sound good. “How many of them are there?”
Tom bit his lip and thought for a few seconds. “From the descriptions I've heard, at least four.”
“Fantastic.” I groaned. “Anything else?”
“Someone told me that they can breathe fire. Not sure I buy that, though.”
“Sadly, that one I can confirm.”
“Really?” Tom shook his head and took another sip from his drink. “Weird.”
“Uh-huh. Come on, you've got to have something more useful than that. Have they been in contact with anyone? Does anyone know what they're looking for?”
Tom gave me a sly look. “What makes you think they're looking for something?”
“Call it an educated guess.” I glanced towards the kitchen to make sure the waitress was out of sight before I leaned closer in. “For the two grams of blow Percy promised you, I expect a little more than, 'there may be four of them, and they've been in town for three days.' Give me something I can use.”
Tom gave me a disgusted look and leaned away. “Don't start thinking you have something on me, shiteater. The bloodsuckers may think you're worth putting up with, but if the pack had its way, you'd've been tied to a tree and torn into bite size pieces the first full moon after you moved out of your momma's house.”
That little tidbit was interesting for several reasons. How long had the pack known about me? And why was I safe while I was living in my mother's home?
Sadly, I didn't think Percy's bribe would cover both these morsels of knowledge and the information I actually needed. I leaned back in the booth, my hands up in surrender, my teeth gritting together as I approximated a smile. “My bad. You're right. If that's all you know, that's all you know. I'll just see if Percy knows someone who has better contacts.”
Tom's lip curled as if of its own volition. “Fine, you want something interesting? Something you can use? Six hours after those beasts came to town, someone else showed up. Someone with an aura like theirs, according to a local spellslinger I know. Someone who talked like them and moved like them, but didn't want them to know he was in town. Guy calls himself Orrin, and he's holed up here in town. I think he's got a room at a hotel or motel or something.”
“That is interesting.”
“Glad you approve.” His eyes twitched in the direction of the kitchen.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see the waitress coming our way.
Thomas cleared his throat and lowered his voice to be sure only I could hear it. “Now, unless there's something else, get the fuck out. No, you know what, even if there is something else, get the fuck out, I've spent too much time with you already. I'm going to have to shower for hours to get your fucking stench off of me.”
“Right.” I stood. “Thanks for your time.”
He sneered at me, then turned his attention to the waitress, making sure his fingers brushed her hands as he took his first plate from her.
The girl's eyelids flickered and her face flushed, even as she handed me back my copy of the check and my credit card.
Apparently, to people without my nose, Tom was something of a charmer. All I saw when I looked at him was a cold-blooded murderer. I drained my coffee and took my mug to the front counter, looking around the room as if for a place to put it.
The waitress crossed the room with a smile, and her hand extended to take the mug.
I moved a half an inch closer, lowering my voice so that the crotchsniffer couldn't overhear it. “Do me a favor, see if you can sneak my friend some of your healthier alternatives. His wife is trying to get him to take better care of himself.”
The girl's expression fell. I pretended not to notice and headed for the door.
I've lived in the same city my entire life, but I had no idea how many damned hotels and motels there were until I needed to search all of them.
Unfortunately, I was back in the office before I realized the size of the task in front of me, so contacting Tom again to narrow down my list just wasn't possible. Even if he would answer the phone, which I doubted. He considered us square, and he'd want something extra for more information. Probably more cocaine. Besides, I didn't want to deal with him more than I had to.
My list of addresses was over three pages long before I realized I was biting off more than I could chew. Even if I could find a website that listed all of them, and had a route that would let me drive by each one with as little wasted time as possible, it'd take me forever to check all of them.
And I couldn't just do drive-bys either: there was no way to tell what animals my target smelled of, or how strong their odor would be. The scent I needed to find was that of the magic itself, the faintest of all the odors I'd picked up. If I wanted to be sure I didn't walk past wherever he was staying, I needed to check inside the buildings.
The upside is that hotels don't have the greatest security in the world. By their nature, it's almost impossible. Too many people coming and going at the oddest times, and none of them want some stranger asking for ID every time they walk in. Sure, they'll question anyone who looks suspicious, but as long as you aren't wearing a fedora and a duster with an upturned collar, most of them just assume that you're there because you're supposed to be there.
The downside is that a lot of the places are set up so that it's hard to wander through all of the halls without someone noticing. Getting away with being in the building is easy. Explaining why you’re wandering around the hallways sniffing is a bit trickier.
I rubbed my temples. I was coming at this all wrong.
Let me tell you a secret everybody knows: you can save yourself a lot of work if you use your brain before you use your body.
The first thing I needed to do was narrow down my list.
What did I know? I knew when the chimeras... was it chimeras or chimerae? Not important. I knew when the chimeras had come into town. More or less.
I went online to find what I needed. Unfortunately, while train schedules aren’t exactly milita
ry secrets, the details that I needed were eclectic enough that it took me a while to figure out how to get that specific information. Finally, though, I found a website.
If ‘the beasts’ originated in Europe, it was probably safe to assume that they'd come from the east coast. That narrowed my list a bit.
Whoever was following them had come six hours later, according to Boggle. It took me an inordinate amount of time to find out that no two trains coming from the same starting point on the East coast had arrived within six hours of each other. When we were kids, my brother used to insist on watching all of these procedural shows. It hadn’t occurred to me at the time, but now I couldn’t help but wonder how all of those side characters managed to cobble together useful, but highly specific information for the lead investigators. If I’d been on one of those shows, by the time I got back from talking to Boggle, Percy would have come rushing in to tell me all of this, and the audience wouldn’t have even considered how one might have to go about finding that out.
I turned away from my computer screen, rubbing my sore eyes, trying to figure out something that would help me narrow down my search.
Okay, so maybe the guy who followed didn't come by train.
Did he drive in, or fly? Even if he'd flown most of the way, he'd probably come in through the Denver airport, which meant he'd have to rent a car and drive into town.
Okay, so he'd driven into town. What did that tell me?
If I were coming into a town for the first time, I'd either get a place as close to the people I was following as I could, or, if I couldn't find them, I'd get one of the first places I found.
And I certainly wouldn't bother looking for a place online. So, my first priorities were the hotels and motels just off the highway. That excluded a number of places that had set up either on the major roads in town, or next to the local places of interest.
What else did I have? The guys coming after me were apparently holed up in an abandoned house or storage unit. The giant who’d wrecked my place had been poorly groomed and smelly. Not awfully smelly by my standards, but he’d certainly spent less time on his appearance than most humans did. These were not people who were obsessed with creature comforts. Was this a trait that they shared with Orrin? I elected to start my search at the cheaper places in town.
