A Mate Worse Than Death

by J. L. Ray

  Caligari reached out and flipped the card. The address stared up at them. “Thanks Doc. Much more help than the GOOENsters.”

  Caligari snorted. “Well, the card might help explain the look on her face. That old chestnut about vampire bites and sexual heat is completely inaccurate, but it could have been something else connected to the date she had, if she had one.” He paused, then added, “Oh, when you get to Monster-Mate, tell Mephistopheles hello for me.”

  The two detectives, who had turned to walk out the door, stopped, stood very still, then turned to look at Caligari.

  Tony said, “Mephistopheles?”

  “The new owner. Adonis, who owned it when I was a member, kept dating all of newest members who created a profile, and that was what caused quite a bit of tension when there were singles events. Everyone thought he or she or it was with the host. Plus, he encouraged the uhmmm...more orgiastic tendencies in the singles events. Clothes optional and bring your own whip, that sort of thing, you know. What an idiot,” Caligari threw out a hand as if flipping something gross off of it. “It seemed like a natural fit for Mephistopheles to take over from Adonis. After all, the site is dealing in what creatures want most.”

  Tony laughed, “A pain in the ass?”

  Cal punched her lightly, and she managed to stay on one foot and standing, mostly. “Our girl here ain’t too fond of dating. Or men.”

  “You prefer women?” Dr. Caligari sounded surprised.

  She snorted. “I wouldn’t know, Doc. I guess I prefer no pains in the ass. So far, I’m zero for zero on that.”

  “You’d have to actually date to have a record,” Cal pointed out.

  “And that’s all folks. Come on, Calvin. We have some leads to follow.”

  “Coward.”

  “Enough.”

  “We should get you a profile,” Cal said as they walked through the door.

  Caligari heard the smack as the door to the morgue swung shut and grinned, a full-toothed, feral, happy smile.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Cal and Tony took the metro to the offices of Monster-Mate, which were housed inside a large, shiny office building in downtown D. C., near Metro Center station and not that far from the Mall or their own District office. The building contained several other businesses, and the reception desk in the lobby featured a hatchet-faced crone in rusty black robes to direct client traffic, which struck Tony as an interesting choice of greeter given the rep witches had for tacky, cliched dress codes, ugly manners, and all-around bat-shit craziness.

  “Good morning,” Tony risked a glance at Cal and then took lead, pulling her badge to show the old witch. “We need to go to the offices of Monster-Mate.”

  When the cackling finally quit, Tony calmly tried again. “Ma’am, is there a problem?”

  “Oh no, dearie, no,” the old woman muttered as she rubbed her hands and then hit an intercom button, “Two for level 13,” she screeched. “Oh no, no problem at all, dearie. You and your...partner” she crooned the last word, “are quite welcome to enter.” Her voice began to speed up and rise, “Especially if you are here to take the owner with you and place him in jail!” And at the last word, she threw her hands down and smoke exploded up.

  Coughing, Cal told her, “ Hey, hey, no need for that. What’s your beef with the owner?”

  Crooning again she muttered, “Oh, you’ve no interest in the mutterings of a crazy old witch, dearie, no interest at all. I am sure such a brilliant ogre as yourself will figure it all out without my help.” And at that, she dematerialized, a puff of purple-green smoke left in her wake.

  “I hate witches!” Cal muttered, then started when a screech came from thin air.

  “I heard that!”

  “Crap!” Frantic, he turned to Tony, “Warts? Do I have warts? Check, check!”

  Tony stood silently for minute, watching him twist and turn, trying to check every surface of his body that was visible, which wasn’t much. Then she clapped her hands. “Snap out of it, Cal! That witch wasn’t Teraphina. I don’t know this witch and neither do you.”

  “I keep telling you, Tony, but you don’t listen. They are all related and they are all bad. Bad, bad, bad.”

  Tony reached over and patted his hand, “No warts, buddy, no warts. And Teraphina is in Lock-Up, just where she should be. Now come on. Our elevator awaits us,” and she pointed over at the manticore sitting patiently inside the elevator door. “Let’s go.”

  The elevator, which actually went down, not up, to the 13th floor, oozed with attempts at seduction. The air was heavy with perfume, the floor so softly carpeted that it was all the two could do to stay on their feet. The walls featured every shade in the spectrum of red and several truly, disgustingly graphic how-to pictures for potential new members. Of several Super species. What it lacked was any semblance of good taste. The manticore sat like a statue, which, to be fair, it seemed to be, in front of the controls. The elevator started when Tony and Cal got on, but only the will of the manticore seemed to depress the buttons to the lower levels of the building.

  Cal and Tony stood, looking around the elevator, trying not to make eye contact. The kitschy decor had them both on the edge of total hysterical meltdown, but there were proprieties to observe, and yes, they were on their way to meet a demon. And while so-called “demons” were actually the dark fae and “angels” the light fae, still, dark was dark, as in capable of ugly acts of nasty dismemberment if insulted. So the two did their best to hold it together until they could get off the “Luv Boat”. The ding of arrival announced the end of the torture.

  “I haven’t had to hold like that since the last time I attended a mime show right after having beans for supper,” Cal announced as the doors closed behind them.

  Tony looked at her partner. “Really? You had to tell me that one? Next time, hold that as well. TMI, dude, TMI.”

  The two turned to the foyer of the office they had entered. The Arabian nights boudoir theme had continued from the elevator, but it looked like, with new management, saner heads were prevailing and the decor was undergoing a change. The reception area currently featured a gigantic four-poster bed awash in shimmering drapery in shades of pink and red. However, the incredibly seductive young female who lay on the bed, one hip jutted and one arm trailing along her creamy white thigh, was barking instructions in a crisp voice that belied the languor of her pose. Her orders were directed at two muscular dwarves who were moving a huge chunk of rose quartz in the shape of a desk.

  “Dindle, move it three more feet to the right,” she sighed as she directed her attention to Cal and Tony. “Hi, I’m Serena. I am so sorry for the mess. We are redecorating, and we told Heraphina not to let clients come down. If you would like to make an appointment for next week, we can look at your profile and results then, if you like.”

  Cal held out his f-light. “Detectives Newman and Kelly. We’re with the Supernatural Crimes Investigation Bureau. We need to talk to your boss.”

  “Oh, my garters and thigh-highs! Oh, my bustier! Let me get him,” the girl leaped up, her skimpy drapery flashing all of the above as she nimbly fled to the next visible and inevitably red door.

  As she passed through, the partners exchanged raised brows and wordless questions. Then Cal broke the silence left in the girl’s wake. He looked at the dwarves, “She is a--?”

  One dwarf grinned, his large, crooked teeth a mass of brown stains, and replied in a working-class English accent, “Lad, she’s a nymph. Lovely lass, Serena, but she can’t make up her mind about the furniture.”

  The other dwarf broke in with a snarl, “Lovely lass, my sweet ass. Ah shit, that rhymed, it. I hate this place! So in your face!” He dropped his end of the quartz desk and stomped off to the elevator. “I’m taking a break for my sanity’s sake.” He growled. “The rhyming I’m doing has my temper stewing.” This time he yelled. “ Damn it all. I can’t help but fall! This is the last time I take a job here! In the future, I’ll always steer clear!”

  Tony
nodded, “Some internal rhyme as well as end rhyme. Ouch. How quickly does it happen, how long does it last, and is it contagious?”

  The happier dwarf grinned, “You got to have relations with the nymph for it to happen. She’s powerful fond o’poetry. I think it’ll be my turn next. She’s already got to m’brother Windle.”

  Windle winced and started to speak, shook his head and pointed up. Then he stepped into the elevator. The last they saw of him, he was shaking his head as the door shut.

  “I told him it would be permanent if he got lucky twice, but I lied. It’ll wear off in a day or two,” Dindle told them with a wink. “She’s just all wrong for him.”

  Tony raised a brow and looked at her partner, then shook her head. The nymph came back in at that moment and motioned for Cal and Tony to come to her. “This way,” she told them breathlessly, “this way. Mephistopheles will see you now.”

  The redecoration had apparently already taken place in the next office--its decor declared underworld demon. The walls were jagged slabs of basalt--black, glassy, and sharp. The desk was a more user-friendly geode half the size of a troll’s head, a very large troll, and the top portion that showed the inside of the geode had a glass top that allowed sight of its purple crystals. The lighting in the room made the walls seem as if they swallowed light, while the desk reflected purple. The effect was a surprising mix of uncomfortable beauty, sharp and shiny as a knife.

  Behind the desk, a tall black chair with its back to the door turned slowly around and revealed the Being they had come to interview. Mephistopheles.

  He wasn’t particularly tall, about 5’ 11” or so, close to Tony’s height. His slim build was packaged in a dark wool suit that screamed Kiton’s winter collection to Tony. Her dad actually had a Kiton, a twenty-fifth anniversary present from Amanda, and it took her a while to save enough money for that particular treat. Mephistopheles wore his black hair long enough to brush the shoulders of the suit. With different features, he might have appeared out of place in it. But the sharp angles of his face, lined with lean sideburns and a small Van Dyke mustache and beard, made the entire look work. Instead of a hippy playing dress up, he looked utterly and expensively dangerous. His hands lay still on the armrests of the large, ebony leather chair as he stared at the two for a moment that lasted a little too long, then said, “And to what do I owe the pleasure, detectives?” His voice was deeper than Tony expected, as smooth and rich as a dark Scottish ale with a hint of an accent, though she couldn’t place its origin.

  Cal paused, expecting Tony to take lead, but when a few seconds passed with no response, he glanced at her to see what the hold up could be. His partner stared at the demon in front of them without blinking, her body totally still. Cal took in her reaction and then took control of the situation, figuring he’d find out what was up with her later. “We’re here concerning the homicide off 7th Avenue that happened last night. We found a card from your Mageline dating service on the victim and hoped for help in creating a timeline for the murder.”

  Mephistopheles had steepled his hands as Cal spoke, but as he finished, the demon sat up straighter and nodded crisply. “Tragic. Yes. I should be able to help. You have a holopic?”

  Cal nodded and looked at Tony again. She hadn’t moved. He nudged her and finally she seemed to come back to the present.

  “Y’okay?” Cal asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, just thinking about, uhmm,” and without finishing, she turned her f-light in her hand, pointed it up in the air, and flashed the image. The holopic showed the victim but obscured the throat. As leads on this case, Cal and Tony were keeping that piece of information secret as long as they could.

  Mephistopheles looked at the pic and pushed back in his chair, shaking his head. “Oh no. I know her,” he said grimly. Then, reaching out his left hand, he pulled the image to him and left it hovering just above his desk. His right hand gestured and suddenly a holopic of someone who was not the girl came up on the left. “Let me sync these and see what we find in this database for her.” He slapped his hands together and then threw them out and up, and in a few moments, two pics of the woman appeared. On the left was the crime scene pic. On the right was a glamour shot--a dolled up holopic that could attract through magic.

  “Whoa there, can you dial the glam down? I’m married, and my partner doesn’t swing to girls,” Cal said putting up a hand to shield himself from the effects. “Plus, we may still have to view the body, so...” Being glammed into lusting after a corpse would have meant being removed from the case, no doubt about that.

  Mephistopheles smiled slyly at Tony, who, under his gaze, found herself going completely still for a second time. “Sorry officers, no offense meant. It’s all part of the job around here.” He waved a hand and the second pic became simply a lovely shot of the pretty fae whom they had found dead in the alley. “This is a very important client. A very old Being. And I didn’t know that she was registered with us.” He shook his head.

  “Name?” asked Tony.

  “Ah,” Mephistopheles shot her a look and spoke almost in a whisper, “so the silent partner finally speaks?”

  “What?” Tony cleared her throat and spoke more decisively, “What is this important client’s name?”

  “Lilith. And she is,” he shook his head and continued, “no, she was, very, very old. And an old friend. I wish I had known that she had a profile here. I am very new to this” he paused then continued with a wicked smirk, “position. I haven’t reviewed all of our profiles yet. Oh my. This will cause quite a stir.” He looked up at Tony, and she felt the impact of his eyes on her like a physical touch. “You have rather a large job ahead of you, Detective Newman.”

  “How so?” she managed to ask, while she tried to figure out what the hell about this demon made her lose her ability to focus.

  “Lilith would be very difficult to murder, I am thinking. She has battled forces attempting her death for millennia. That someone succeeded is,” he paused and shook his head, “well, more than surprising. It will quite literally rock the Supernatural community.” He frowned.

  Tony stepped closer to the desk and leaned forward a bit, placing her hands on the glass top and staring into his eyes, “She was a client of yours?” and paused as he nodded. “Why?” Her tone aggressive, she continued, “Why would such a powerful and old creature come to a Mageline dating service?” Then she stood back up straight and and folded her arms, glaring at him as she waited for an answer.

  Mephistopheles raised his elegant brows at her and leaned back in his chair, “Why does anyone come to a dating service?” He laughed and held up his hands. “She was lonely. Times have changed, changed quite harshly for the older races.” He gestured at Cal. “You work with this human woman and have no urge to turn on her? Take her home for the dinner pot?”

  Cal laughed, “Hells bells, we fight all the time.”

  Mephistopheles put one long slim hand to his chin, stroked his beard, then smiled, “No, you do not fight. You are having fun. You are friends. You trust each other.”

  Tony cleared her throat, frowning as she said, “We’re here for the case, not for psychoanalysis from a pimp.”

  Cal turned a horrified look on her, but Mephistopheles only laughed again. His laughter subsided into a chuckle as he looked at her, head cocked to one side. “Don’t mistake what I do with this business for what Adonis did. Before him, it belonged to Aphrodite, who did not use it to supply herself with lovers. She did it to spread sexual stability, which the Great Geas had compelled her to do to repay past transgressions, of which she had many. The Powers That Be allowed her to step down, and unfortunately, she chose the wrong successor. Adonis did not live here when the Geas went into affect, so he did not fully understand the enormity of coming to this realm to live.” He grimaced, “And it did not help that he was a fucking idiot. Adonis’s abuses led to, ah,” he paused and filtered his language, “certain changes in his physical status.”

  Cal winced, “ The Great Geas hand
ing out justice?”

  Mephistopheles snorted, “Oh, now that is a good one.” Cal looked confused but stayed quiet as the demon continued, “Anyway, he is...out of the picture here for good. I got the call to take over and” he looked up at Tony from under his brows, his mouth curved up in a sardonic smile, “I had no choice but to come. But pimp? A bit harsh, dear detective.” He stood and walked around the desk, stopping in front of Tony, close enough to cause Cal to step forward, close enough to make Tony extremely aware of the body under an impeccably tailored suit that she could definitely call one of “the most expensive in the world”.

  “Sexual stability,” he said again, almost whispering it to her as he stared into her eyes so intently that she couldn’t look away, “is at the heart of this business. An unstable Super can become a violent Super, and a violent Super makes the Geas respond. I consider my job every bit as important as yours to keep the streets free of the kind of vicious brutality that I have seen all too often in my lifetime.” He slowly leaned in as he spoke, getting closer and closer until his face was only inches away from Tony’s. She stared at him, listening, trying to hear his words though distracted by his presence. But as he finished, she suddenly realized that it had to be glamour. Had to be. She took a step back.

  “You do know that glamming an officer of the law in pursuit of a case is a felony offense?” she told him in a calm, polite voice, as if pointing out the sky was blue rather than potentially insulting a powerful Being.

  He grinned at her, “I don’t glam, darling. I don’t have to.”

  Cal snorted. “Now that we know you provide a very important service” he underscored the last word as insultingly as possible, “as opposed to pimping out Supers, can we get back to the case?”

  Tony turned to her partner, shaking off what certainly felt like a spell. She nodded and turned back to Mephistopheles, “We’ll need a copy of Lilith’s profile and her current contact information, address, and f-light contact spectra.”