After I stepped closer, I noticed that her mouth was twisted in pain. Her arms had been amputated pre-mortem. We were dealing with a real sick creature.
I vaulted over the chest-high desk. The ice was already beginning to melt. The cuts in the receptionist’s arms were savage and animalistic in nature. I was about to reach out and touch the ice block, when the sound of a file cabinet crashing to the floor sent me on full alert.
Adrenaline. Focus. And a little bit of fear.
Bringing my finger to my lips, I caught Nadia’s shaded eyes. With great care, she removed her sunglasses. Not that I really had to encourage her to be quiet. No one wanted to draw the attention of the beast responsible for this.
I ran the scene through my memory banks, searching for parallels. No ideas came. We were fighting blind. Sliding over the desk’s smooth surface as quietly as I could, I made my way back to the entrance. The rattling continued, accompanied by a gruff, low grunting.
In the lowest whisper I could manage, my hand cupped next to Nadia’s ear, I said, “Go outside.”
She stiffly shook her head. “I’m down the rabbit hole now.”
“Then here.” I reached into my waistband, possessing no other backup plan to deal with feral beasts. “You’ll need this.”
She stared at the gleaming .45 in my palm. Then she jumped at the sound of another hiss, coming from one of the unseen offices. Her hand gripped the stock. I gripped the barrel.
“You know how to use it, right?”
“I told you my life’s been a little dangerous.”
I let the gun go. “Both hands on the stock. Kickback might break your wrist otherwise.”
“What about you?”
The growling turned into a kind of moan.
“I guess you’ll see if my stories were true.” The words sounded more confident than I felt. Our previous plan had been to waltz in and use the power of distraction—her with the men, me slipping past, into the evidence room. Not the most robust heist blueprint ever devised, but it wasn’t dangerous. Worst-case scenario, I’d be directed away from any restricted areas and we’d be sent on our way.
Now, the worst-case scenario was getting eaten by an ice-spewing monster. Encountering unfamiliar creatures was always a wild card. The element of surprise worked better than any sheer amount of essence could. Even a champion boxer can get knocked out by a sucker punch.
Snaking our way through the maze of faded vinyl cubicles and eighties-era desks, we headed toward the source of the noises. A hallway split away from the main room.
“Chief Bertram,” I said, reading the sign on the wall aloud. “Hopefully he’s not a snack.”
“She,” Nadia said in a whisper, the gun pointed dangerously close to my head.
Brushing aside the barrel, I said, “How do you figure that?”
“I train her.”
“I never knew what you did,” I said.
“I’ll give you a free workout consult if we make it out of here.”
“Before or after our date?”
Nadia stuck out her tongue. It quivered slightly.
“New plan,” I said. After all, I had my dog researching this Talon of Frost. It couldn’t be a coincidence: the snowflake out by the trailer park, the frozen receptionist, Sam Reynolds’ mention of the Blood Frost. Best to live and fight another day, once I was better equipped to handle the situation.
I took her free hand and guided her away from the Chief’s office. We were almost by the water cooler when Nadia bumped into a stack of plastic cups. They tipped over to the ground, almost in slow motion.
Before I could grab them, they fell to the floor in a crinkling mess, ringing hollowly throughout the empty precinct. It was like a switch went off in the Chief’s office. The growling and moaning completely ceased.
Nadia and I shared an ominous glance.
“Go to the evidence room,” I said. “Find everything associated with my case file.”
“And what about you?”
“If I don’t make it,” I said, “get Argos and head to Lux. Gunnar will know what to do. You remember him.”
“He came to the motel. He’s really good looking.”
“Not that good looking,” I said, focusing down the hall. Shadows danced on the wall, allowing my imagination to run wild. With no amulet or magical items in my possession, there was only one thing to do.
Closing my eyes, I crumbled off a piece of my mortal soul, sacrificing it to the power of dark essence. I felt the heat in my palms begin to boil. Searching for a sacrifice, I passed over Nadia’s soul in favor of the beast’s. I recoiled slightly as I felt its aura through the ether, blackened, shriveled, nasty and greedy. Snatching whatever pieces of energy I could from the beast and surrounding environment, I combined it with my own demonic magic.
I heard Nadia slam a door, but I focused only on my demon side. A roar split through the precinct.
The beast was coming out to play
Which one would emerge victorious was difficult to say.
I opened my eyes and yelled, “Firus ignitus.”
A wall of crackling flame erupted in the hallway from floor to ceiling. The beast shrieked in tormented agony. Through the pillars of fire, I caught a glimpse of its twisted, horned face. Then, with a feral hiss, it retreated into the office and crashed through the window, fleeing into the wild.
Smoke filling the precinct, I dropped to one knee, trying to recover.
But there was nothing to reach for. A little piece of me was gone forever.
And worse, I knew what was responsible for bringing winter to Inonda. Although I wasn’t quite sure how it was possible.
Especially since wendigos had been extinct for more than three centuries.
10
Losing your soul is like anything else: a long, slow grind toward a final destination. As with most things, the slip is almost imperceptible, each step taking you almost no closer to the end than the last. But eventually, you take stock and find that you’ve come farther than you ever thought possible.
That wasn’t always a good thing.
I’d scared away the wendigo, which was no small feat. They were like demon kryptonite. Unfortunately, taking a piece of his already sad soul wouldn’t help public safety.
“Nadia?” I peered across the room. “You there?”
No answer. The smoke was starting to thicken. Burning down the precinct wasn’t gonna fly. If Detective Scott had been up my ass before, the type of vendetta he’d have after torching this place would be the stuff of legends.
I hauled ass over to the fire extinguisher. Unable to locate an alternative, I wrapped my fist in my leather jacket. I smashed the glass case. Really, I should have known more spells than the half-dozen I had semi-mastered. A water spell would be good. But I was never really much of a magic scholar. Which meant relying on human measures to put out the growing flames.
Maybe my mortal methods kept me in touch with my humanity.
Or maybe I just didn’t like magic all that much.
Bracing the red aluminum canister against my rib cage, I shotgun sprayed white foam across the blaze. The inferno had been a little overboard. But creating a barrier had been more important than maintaining the value of the local real estate.
The flames hissed with displeasure as the chemicals rained down. The extinguisher coughed and sputtered, the white mist finally halting. And the fire was still alight, albeit weakened.
Tossing the spent tool beneath a desk, I glanced around the precinct for anything else that might help the cause. Then I found it: what had started the dominoes tumbling in the first place.
I raced over to the water cooler and lifted the whole thing up—who needed a damn trainer, anyway—with surprising ease. Hauling it over to the edge of the blaze, I then tore the water jug from the dispenser and doused the remaining knee-hi
gh flames.
They died into a mix of embers and soggy ash. I managed to stomp out the stragglers with my boots.
Slumping against the blackened wall, soot staining my face and sweat dripping from my temples, the smoke alarm finally triggered. The sprinklers roared on, better late than never, showering the entire room in a pleasant mist.
I closed my eyes, allowing the water to cleanse my soul. The fire department would arrive soon, meaning Nadia and I needed to split. But I just wanted to rest, soak in the minor victory. It wasn’t the same as winning the war, but I had always been a fan of not dying in small skirmishes, too.
“You gonna drive a girl home or you gonna sleep?”
Blinking the water from my eyes, I realized that I had dozed off. Nadia’s hair stuck to her face, strands flowing down across her perfect lips. It would be romantic, if not for the sirens in the distance.
And the stolen evidence bags clutched beneath her arms.
“Shoplifting,” I said, getting to my feet, “is a crime in this state, Miss Santos.”
“Only if they catch you,” she said as we walked out.
“Words to live by.”
“What was that thing, anyway?”
“I had the same question.” Because it looked like a wendigo, smelled like a wendigo and moved like a wendigo.
But wendigos were extinct.
Hence my confusion.
We exited the lot just before the cruisers rounded the corner. I watched the police cars in the rearview, and then they disappeared.
If only I could do the same.
11
“Don’t lose my mother’s necklace again,” Nadia said before she got out of the car. “And this is yours.” With a wink, she placed the .45 back into the palm of my hand. We were fortunate she hadn’t been forced to use it. Would’ve been like shooting BB pellets at the beast. Tough skin.
“I didn’t technically lose it, since—”
“Watch it.”
“I’ll call you.” I guess this would do as a farewell, given the strange events of the past hour.
“I might even answer.” Her wet red dress left behind a vague imprint of her body on the leather seat. She swept her damp hair from her eyes, tapped the window goodbye, then went to sit at the bus stop. I had offered her a ride home, but maybe that was a little much to expect on her first day back.
For the best, probably. I still had that black tie event tonight, and only a few hours to prepare. With a wave, I drove away from Inonda’s sole transportation stop. I glanced at the sticky note flapping on the car’s vent.
Her number. No hearts or call me written in suggestive script, but it was a start.
And the evidence bags were more than a damn start. They were my lifeline.
Driving as fast as the roads allowed, I made it to my old office before the clock struck five-thirty. Nothing like the fear of imminent death to spur a man to action. It’d been two months since I’d seen the place—two months since, just outside the first floor dispensary, I’d had to fire on Detective Rodriguez and use a little magic on Detective Scott to escape arrest.
I’d met plenty of wizards in my day, but whatever legal voodoo Tina Chen had worked to get me out of that mess was some next level shit. Not that I was completely out of the woods. With the charges still pending, the sudden disappearance of all the relevant evidence was sure to raise eyebrows.
Before heading outside, I dumped the contents of the three bags on the passenger seat. Everything a grown boy needed to avoid death by witch. A little demon survival kit.
My old phone. I turned it on, and surprisingly, it still held a charge. I’d have to leave a positive review on the manufacturer’s website. Guess that meant I had two phones for the time being. After tapping in Nadia’s new number, I surveyed the rest of the haul.
My blade. That would come in handy. I slipped it back into the ankle sheath.
Another .45. Never could have too many of those.
The Remkah Talisman. That went around my neck, its emerald pendant glowing softly in the afternoon light.
The Carmine Chain. I slipped that into my pocket. Whatever magic it held, I’d have to hand it off to Argos for closer study.
And the true prize: the little eye drop container filled with Isabella Kronos’ blood. It wasn’t much more than a few milliliters, gathered from when I had shot her in my office. But for my purposes, that might as well have been a swimming pool.
She had called my bluff. Now she was gonna find out what happened when you went all-in against a royal flush.
Absolute ruin.
I got out of the car and headed toward the side-door leading to my office.
“Whoa, man,” one of the dispensary stoners said as I walked by, “like, nice ride, Kal.”
“Thanks.” Then I paused. “One thing, though.”
“Anything, man.” The strains of reggae played in the background, amidst the skunky aroma.
“You ever call the cops again…” I allowed my leather jacket to flap open, displaying the .45 in all its menacing glory.
“H-hey, I just work the register, man.”
“And I want you to have a long and healthy career.” I patted him on the shoulder, and the kid almost folded into a puddle of his own piss. Didn’t feel good, but Detective Scott’s visit a couple months ago had cost me part of my soul. And had cost Scott part of his. Someone needed to be put on notice about certain shit being unacceptable.
I walked away and headed upstairs. After climbing to the second floor in the musty heat, I was already past feeling nostalgic. Maybe Tina Chen could hook me up with a new office, too. A line of inquiry to consider while crashing tonight’s black tie affair.
I was halfway down the hallway to my office when I heard rustling coming from one of the other units. That couldn’t be right. This place had been abandoned since I’d come here three years ago. In fact, that’s why I’d chosen this particularly tenement. I enjoyed—and needed—the privacy.
But things changed.
I tried to quiet my footsteps by slowing down. But every board I managed to find was creaky as hell. Before I got to my office—which was still missing the damn door, thanks to Isabella’s truly magical entrance—I heard the new tenant shuffle out into the hall.
“Neighbor!”
My back was turned, but from the grit in the voice, I could tell it belonged to an older woman. Plastering a faux-smile on my lips, I wheeled around. A small old woman stood ramrod straight in her doorway, beaming at my presence.
I nodded and said, “A pleasure.”
“I heard you’re an investigator, so maybe you can find my reading glasses.” She laughed at her own joke. “But don’t charge me too much.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” We stood in awkward silence for a minute. I was hoping she would disappear, but she apparently didn’t have pressing matters to attend to. God only knows what this woman was doing here. Maybe it was cheaper than a nursing home. “I’m Kalos Aeon.”
“Oh, yes. Silly me. I’m Raylene.”
“Enchanted,” I said.
“Aren’t you a charmer? All the young ladies must go wild.”
“I wish, ma’am.”
“Such a nice town,” Raylene said, and I gritted my teeth, ready for her to wax rhapsodic. There wasn’t time for this. I had to figure out how to defend myself against a nasty curse, kill a formerly extinct beast that ate people and make an exclusive event that I wasn’t technically invited to. “A shame about what happened earlier.”
“Oh? What happened earlier?” News about the precinct must’ve traveled fast. Detective Scott would probably be coming to piss on my plans at any moment.
“Didn’t you hear? About that poor girl they found buried in snow with her blood drained?”
“I—uh, that’s not what I heard,” I said, slightly confused. Had the
official story been changed?
“Right on someone’s front lawn, in the middle of summer, too,” Raylene said. “Beautiful. Pale. That’s what they said on the radio. They’re looking for an ID. What did you hear?”
“I just—well, I thought they found her in ice,” I said. “Same thing, right?”
“Either way it’s chilly,” Raylene said with a smile. “Well, I’ll leave you alone. You look like a busy young man. Just don’t shoot anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”
“Nice to meet you.” She retreated back inside. “Say, wait.”
“Yes?” Her wizened head peeked out.
“The radio didn’t mention anything…unusual about her body, right?”
“Being drained of your blood is pretty unusual, don’t you think?”
“I meant…” I weighed my options, then threw caution to the wind. “I’ve been looking for a nasty guy. Helping the police, actually. He takes…trophies. Body parts.”
I saw Raylene’s eyebrow raise. But she didn’t blink. “Just the blood, young man. And I hope you catch the son of a bitch. Make this town safer for all of us.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Something about her reaction told me she knew that I wasn’t investigating any serial killers with the police. Raylene’s door slammed shut, and I hurried into my office. Everything still seemed to be in the right place. The desk was in shambles from when I had searched for Charon’s recorded message. The only window was cracked, another victim of Isabella’s outburst.
And there was still the problem of the door, which provided no client-investigator privacy. Not exactly a good look for someone dealing primarily in the unseen. All of those cosmetic defects, however, would have to be fixed later.
Another sharp pain jolted through my chest as I tried to organize my thoughts. This problem wouldn’t fix itself. But what was Isabella Kronos’ endgame?
The hard phone line in the corner of the room rang. I jumped slightly.
Blood Frost (The Half-Demon Rogue Trilogy Book 2) Page 6
