by Leod D. Fitz
I made myself a new list, less than half a page long.
All I had to do was figure out how to explore them without anyone calling the cops. I considered a pizza delivery ruse, but rejected it as I didn't own any of the appropriate paraphernalia, and doubted anyone would buy a middle-aged pizza delivery man in a college town. Package delivery had similar issues, but more importantly, it occurred to me to worry that the front desk might want to hold the delivery for their guest.
In the end, I decided to go with the ubiquitous 'busy man on the phone' routine. I could stick with 'yeah, uh-huh' for most of the time, then switch to 'no, he's not in 119, can't you read your own damned writing?' if I started getting odd looks. And of course, if someone started getting insistent about asking me questions, I could get in a shouting match with my non-existent conversation partner.
It took me a little digging to come up with the cell phone I’d bought a few years back. I used it about once a month, barely often enough to keep paying the bill on it.
The first couple hotels didn't even warrant the little effort I put into my charade. Two of them had connected hallways and back staircases that kept me out of view of the front office. The girl at the front desk of the other didn't even glance up when I walked through the room.
In the fourth and fifth I got a couple of curious glances, but the ruse seemed to work quite well, as nobody gave me any grief.
And in the sixth I struck gold.
I knew before I even hit the front door. He'd been there, and recently. Keeping my phone up to my ear I nodded at the gangly girl behind the counter and followed the scent to the elevator.
I stopped at the second floor, took a whiff and, finding nothing, pushed the button for the third, hoping that nobody was watching me through a security camera. At the third floor, I picked up the trail again, and followed my target to his room.
Though the magic was the same, everything else about Orrin was distinctly different than what I'd gotten from the giant who'd attacked me. He had a lighter scent, less filled with hormones, less intense, and instead of wild cats and bears, I smelled the sea. There were a dozen different fish, though my personal experience in ichthyology was limited enough that I couldn't name them. Blame my life in a landlocked state. There was also squid and octopus, starfish and jellyfish, along with a few other odors that were completely unfamiliar to me.
I paused outside of his door, contemplating my options. He wasn't in, if he had been the smell would have been a little stronger and there would have been some kind of movement inside the room. Presumably.
I could meet with him. If he really was trying to keep his presence a secret from his comrades, it was possible, even likely that they were in some kind of conflict. An enemy of my enemy could be a friend. Conversely, it could be that their conflict centered around trying to find that missing 'key' before the others did. It was entirely possible that he'd try to threaten, torture, or manipulate its location out of me, then kill me off as soon as he was certain I didn't know anything.
My best move would probably be to find out as much about him as I could before I made any major decisions. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of a way to get into my target's room that didn't involve breaking either a door or a window. One of these days I had to get Simon to teach me how to pick a lock.
I gnawed my lower lip and contemplated. I couldn't get in without leaving evidence of my entry, but even so, I doubted he'd be able to tell who had violated his privacy. Hell, I could make it look like an accident. I could break in through the window, and leave a baseball in the room. He might think that some kids had been playing around.
Or, alternatively, he might not be a complete idiot. Besides, I was assuming I could break in, snoop around, and get out without anyone noticing. It wasn't outside the realm of the conceivable, but it wasn't something I could count on, either.
I noted the room number, 309, and where in the hotel it was located, then headed back to the elevator.
The kid at the front desk glanced up as I passed through, then turned her attention back to her textbook.
Outside, I hopped into my car and made a quick circuit around the building until I found a parking spot that gave me a view of the front door, and the window to Orrin's room. I was in luck: there were only a handful of spaces that gave me line of sight on both, and two of them were open. I chose the one that promised to be in the shade sooner. Not for comfort, ghouls can handle temperature extremes that would kill a human, the sooner I was in the shade, the less likely that a passing human would spot me.
I slid down in my seat until my eyes were just high enough to clear the dashboard, and I waited.
And I waited.
And then I waited some more.
The shadow from the tree behind me covered the truck, and the sun sunk low.
Employees and customers came and went, along with a vendor for some of their soda machines.
None of them struck me as likely candidates. I scented them anyway. When the wind was favorable I could do so without getting out of my car. When it wasn't, I waited until they were inside, then walked close enough to find their odor.
I started to wonder if maybe he'd slipped by me, somehow, if maybe he had gone in through a different entrance.
The annoying thing about a stakeout like this one, I found, was that the more time I invested, the less willing I was to walk away with nothing. But it wasn't unreasonable to think that he might be out for the night. Or perhaps the entire weekend. Hell, he might have only needed the room for a night or two. He could have checked out an hour before I showed up.
Or he could be on his way back right at that moment.
Sometime around midnight, my exhaustion finally outweighed my need to tell myself I hadn't been wasting my time, and I started my truck and headed for the lot entrance.
As I came to a stop just before pulling onto the road, a small, beat up sports car pulled into the lot, passing close enough for me to catch a whiff of the driver.
He did not smell like fish.
But he did smell of magic.
Magic and alligators. And snakes. And toads.
I paused, watching the car out of the corner of my eye as it whipped through the lot, skidding to a stop in a handicap parking spot right next to the front door.
I wanted to see who got out. I desperately wanted to see who got out.
But I had already been stopped at the street entrance for much longer than I needed to be.
I grimaced, glanced both ways, and pulled out of the lot, taking the first turn available, and parking in the empty lot of a closed restaurant.
I hurried back to the hotel's lot and over to where the sports car had parked. The occupant of the car was gone, but I confirmed the odor that I’d picked up as he passed. This was definitely the same kind of magic.
I walked over to my previous parking space and looked up. I waited for almost a minute before the light in the window of what I had figured to be room 309 flipped on, and a figure began moving through it.
But who was this person? An ally of Orrin? Or an enemy? And what did his presence mean?
A part of me really wanted to head upstairs and find out first hand. Another part of me pointed out that if things went as poorly with this chimera as they had with the one who'd been waiting in my trailer, there was a pretty good chance someone would end up calling the police.
On the other hand, this was the first real lead I had. I couldn't really afford to just leave.
I sighed and shook my head. “Fuck it.”
I straightened my shirt, popped a crick in my neck, and headed for the front door.
Chapter 5
Outside of room 309, I waited, motionless. The man inside was active, moving about purposefully, opening this, moving that. I couldn't tell for certain, but I got the impression that he was searching the place.
After standing outside the door for several minutes, I realized that I wasn't gathering information so much as putting off the inevitable confronta
tion, I forced myself to raise my hand and knock.
The motion on the far side of the door stopped.
I waited.
After several long seconds, I heard slow footsteps approaching the door.
I cleared my throat and tried to think of something appropriate to say. Somehow, 'Hey, I think we're both looking for the same person,' didn't quite seem right.
“Come on, asshole, open up!” Popped out of my mouth instead. I grimaced as soon as I said it.
The door flew open and two of the longest arms I'd ever seen wrapped around me, yanking me into the room.
The chimera kicked the door closed behind us and slammed me into the floor hard enough to knock plaster loose from the ceiling of the room below us, and rattle my brain.
For a moment, I was limp in its grasp, and the thing took the opportunity to tighten its arms around me. I grabbed onto his arms and tried to wrench my way out of them, but to no effect. It wasn't simply that he was insanely powerful, which he was, but there was something wrong with his arms. Try as I might, I couldn't find a wrist to twist or an elbow to pop out of joint.
I shifted and tried to wriggle out of the creature's grasp. This approach was only nominally more effective than the previous, but I managed to make a few centimeter's progress.
The thing glowered at me with slit eyes and hissed menacingly.
I bared my teeth and hissed right back.
The chimera's eyes widened in rage, and it opened its mouth, unhinging its jaw as two long fangs extended. I could smell the venom on them.
But he'd reminded me that I wasn't as helpless as I was acting, and if we were comparing mouths, he was going to find himself with more competition than he expected.
A ghoul's jaw is nothing like the simple, hinged nonsense one finds on a human. With four separate bones and more than a dozen muscles, it's practically an extra hand. And it opens wide enough to wrap around an adult male's head. I moved to do exactly that.
The creature released its grip and shoved me away before I could take a bite. He was about five feet tall, and completely hairless, not even eyelashes. His arms were far too long for someone his size, and they bent like the spine of a snake, rippling and twisting at impossible angles.
I jumped up, slamming my feet into the thing’s face, forcing it back another step.
“What the hell are you?” it spat, somehow enunciating between its oversized fangs.
“Next time maybe ask before you try killing someone!” I screamed, picking up a dresser and throwing it at the chimera.
The monster slid underneath the flying furniture and lunged at me, mouth first.
I fell backwards to avoid his attack, rolling over and climbing to my feet just in time to duck another bite.
I came back from the duck with an uppercut to the jaw, followed up by two solid blows to its sternum. The way the creature fell backwards was made all the more sweet by the cracking sound coming from his chest.
I pressed my advantage, aiming a bite at his arm. He pulled away just in time to avoid my teeth, then moved forward.
The thing wrapped its powerful arms around me again, this time lower, picking me up at the waist and slamming me down onto the ground, harder than before.
If nobody had called the police before, it was a safe bet they were making that call now.
The chimera tried to pull away, but this time I grabbed it, my arms wrapping around its neck as I pulled it in close, my mouth gaping towards it.
The creature took a deep breath. After my encounter with the other chimera in my trailer, I had a pretty good idea what would happen next. I slammed my jaw shut and covered my face with my hands just before the thing exhaled and a burning sensation encompassed me.
I screamed and dropped to the ground, rolling over to put out the flames that were threatening to engulf me.
My wits came back to me a heartbeat later. We’d fought for less than a minute, and the thing had managed to break my ribs, sear my flesh, and knock the sense out of me twice. Chimeras, it seemed, were kind of terrifying.
Thankfully, as much of a surprise as he’d been to me, I’d managed to scare him as well. Before I could stand, my opponent took the two steps he needed to jump out of the window.
Still laying on the floor, I patted myself, searching for flames or embers. The fire was gone, and my skin would heal quickly enough, but I'd have to get a change of clothes sooner rather than later.
Beside me, I saw a section of burning carpet, slowly expanding. I could get out before it turned into anything serious, but there was no reason to put anyone else in the hotel at risk. I slapped the fire out with my singed hands, wincing as I did.
Let me tell you a secret that everybody knows: Fire hurts.
I pulled myself to my feet and moved to the window to peer out into the night. My eyes told me very little: a ghoul's vision isn't his most impressive trait. My nose, on the other hand, told me that the slippery, reptilian thing was not waiting for me.
About two seconds after that, my ears told me that somebody was coming down the hallway, and quickly.
After all that work, I would leave knowing no more than when I came in. I ground my teeth and moved to climb out the window, then stopped.
Something was poking out of the pile of rubble that remained from the dresser I'd tossed across the room. I pushed aside a few pieces of faux-wood, revealing a fat manila envelope that had been taped to the underside of one of the drawers.
A fist pounded furiously against the door as I ripped the envelope free, tucked it under an arm, and jumped out of the window and into the night.
Somebody, probably the hotel manager, was screaming about the state of the room as I drove out of the parking lot. Last time I'd left a hotel room in that state, I'd had to trade a favor with a neckbiter to avoid paying for it. I didn't envy the fishy fellow the conversation he'd have with management when he got back.
I kept the windows open and tested the air with every breath to be sure nobody was following me.
Back at the mortuary, I took a lap around the building, checking for new smells before heading in. I made sure all the doors were locked and barred, then walked into my office. I jumped onto the desk and squatted down with the manila envelope in my hands. God willing, this would answer a few questions. I ran it under my nose before opening it, just to be sure. These didn't strike me as the kind of people who made envelope bombs, but if I did end up blowing up my place of business, I'd have to move back in with mother, and god knew I wasn't ready for that nightmare.
One of the daggers I'd taken off the giant worked as a letter opener, and I dumped the contents of the envelope out in front of me.
The coin that thunked onto the table was in much better shape than the one I'd gotten off the giant. It was, however, just as old.
I pulled a well-worn, red spiral notebook out and set it aside, then shook out an impressive collection of photographs.
They were in two groups; the first, a thick pile tied together with twine, had lent the envelope most of its weight. These were photos of savaged bodies. The pictures were of all shapes and sizes. The ones at the top of the stack were high resolution images, some taken from a distance at crime scenes, while others were close-up images taken in morgues. As I flipped through the stack, the quality of the camera and the skill of the photographer slowly diminished. The very back of the stack had grainy black and white images so old they should have been in a museum.
The second set of photographs, these held together with a paper clip, had only seven pictures. I recognized two of the men: one had attacked me less than an hour before, and the other had been pinned to the wall of my house the last time I'd seen him. I set those aside.
Two of the remaining photographs had been exed out.
“Well,” I said to nobody in particular, “I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that I don't have to worry about them.”
I held up the other three images and studied them. A hair sample or a piece of cloth that they'd worn
would have been more useful to me, but photographs were better than nothing.
The pictures had been taken from a distance, but with a decent camera and a good lens. Whoever this 'Orrin' fellow was, he had some photography skills.
The first photograph was of a tall, brown haired man with a scarred face, incredibly sharp cheekbones and a deep scowl. He wore a large trench coat which he'd cinched closed, despite the fact that the people in the background appeared to be dressed for summer.
The second picture was of a beautiful blonde man, a little on the smallish side, who wore... not so much sunglasses as sun-goggles.
The final image was of a redheaded man of average build, with a broken nose and piercing eyes. Unlike the rest of the men in photographs, this one appeared to be watching the photographer, and his expression was one of bemusement. Something about him disturbed me, though I couldn't put my finger on what.
When I'd committed the faces to memory, I lay the photos aside and picked up the notebook, hoping it would hold some answers.
I opened the cover and stared at the well-worn first page.
I blinked.
“What the hell is that?” I muttered, staring at the strange figures that covered the page. I narrowed my eyes and peered closer, hoping that if I gave myself a moment, I'd start to recognize the figures, that I'd realize it was just bad penmanship.
No such luck. The notebook was either encoded, or it was written in some language I'd never seen before.
Not that it would be hard, I've never been much of a language guy. At least, not relatively speaking. I know English, Spanish, a titch of Japanese, and just enough Mandarin to get myself into trouble.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. It had been a long day, and I wasn't entirely certain that it had been worth the effort. I stepped off the desk, ready for a long night's sleep. Just before I turned away, I grabbed the manila envelope and peered inside it on the off chance I'd missed something.
