London Growl

by John P. Logsdon

  “It’s a bit fuzzy,” Reaper answered, glancing down, “but now and then I get visions. They’re brief and fleeting, but sometimes they give me enough information to be infuriating.” He sighed. “It’s all part of my punishment, I suppose.”

  “Right,” I said. “Sorry about that. But if you have anything you can give me to go on, I’m all ears.”

  He nodded and took a deep breath. Then he closed those glowing eyes of his and put his hands on his desk, palms down. Static filled the air. Harvey and I looked at each other. He was about to say something, but I held my index finger up to my mouth to indicate that he should remain silent.

  Finally, Reaper gasped and let out a long breath.

  “Werewolves,” he said raggedly. “She’s been taken by werewolves.”

  That was better than vampires, at least. Unless, of course, the werewolves were planning on having her for dinner. Visions of Rachel à la mode came to mind.

  I felt my stomach churn at the thought.

  “Any idea where?”

  He shook his head.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Better than nothing.”

  “I can tell you that one of the werewolves is…” He trailed off. Then he looked up at me with his glowing eyes. “I don’t know exactly. It’s just a feeling that he’s…different.”

  “You mean like he digs dudes or something?” I ventured.

  If you’ve never seen a glowy-eyed reaper furrow his or her brow, you’ve missed out. It was like a unibrow, but with lights.

  “I meant that he’s unique,” Reaper explained after a moment. “Powerful. Angry. Defiant.”

  “Sounds like every werewolf I’ve ever met,” I stated. “At least when they’re in werewolf mode.”

  Reaper nodded. “That’s the thing. I sense that he is perpetually in a state between werewolf form and human form, but…” He stopped again and shook his head. “I don’t know. I will say that you’d better be careful or my Order will be fetching you to the other side.”

  “Swell.” It was my turn to sigh. “Okay, well, thanks for the info, Reaper. We’d better be on our way.” I then glanced around. “Where’s Piper?”

  “Down in Processing. I’ll tell her you stopped by.”

  He then got back to work on his papers as I dragged Harvey back to the portal.

  “Can you please stick with me and not wander off?” I scolded irritably. “We’ve got to get to Rachel and I can’t be worried about you getting lost.”

  “Sorry, Chief. I just wanted to thank Reaper again, you know? Plus, we got some good intel from him, right?”

  I entered the number again, verified that it said we’d be heading to St. Martin-in-the-Fields, gave Harvey a reluctant nod, and hit the button.

  Chapter 7

  The church was beautiful inside. The dark pews were offset by ivory columns that connected to a domed ceiling. It was covered in gold etchings. Chandeliers hung from chains, taking the eye all the way to the large arched window that sat behind the pulpit.

  Some churches went over the top with their ornate designs, but this one just looked elegant.

  I wasn’t a church-going guy or anything, but I liked the style of this place.

  “Let’s go,” I said, making sure nobody was looking at the null zone area we were in.

  We stepped out into the daylight. I’d nearly forgotten about time zones. That would take some getting used to. For all I knew, the PPD here was more on the nightshift like we were in Vegas. That would mean there’d be nothing but a skeleton crew on duty at this time of day. Either way, we had to find them.

  “That’s a big building,” Harvey said as we walked toward the entrance of the National Gallery. “It’s like they crammed a bunch of stuff into as little a spot as they could.”

  “Well, it’s not like England is anywhere near the size of the United States,” I noted. “Still, we pack a lot of our museums into D.C. and that’s a lot smaller than London.”

  “Yep.”

  We headed up the main steps and walked inside.

  This place was majorly decked out. There were paintings everywhere, sure, but the architecture was stunning. Details ran along the walls and ceilings. Bas-relief, etchings, inlays, columns…you name it, this place had it. Even the designs on the floors were gorgeous. This place had to have taken forever to build.

  A cute blonde in a gray dress approached us.

  “Hello,” she said in a sweet voice that only served to accentuate her wonderful accent. “Are you from out of town?”

  That was one of the oldest pickup lines in the book. If a guy had tried that in this day and age, he would get a response that consisted of a scoff and the rolling of eyes. But I was a guy, and she was quite attractive, and her accent caused a tingle in my jibbles, so I was more than happy to let it slide.

  But now wasn’t the time for pleasantries.

  “I am,” I replied, “and I’m flattered by the attempt to hook up with me, but I’m currently on a mission.”

  She squinted at me. “Sorry?”

  Harvey nudged my arm and pointed at the badge that was dangling from a holder on her neck.

  “She works here, Chief,” he whispered.

  “Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Yes, yes. We are from out of town.”

  She smiled. “Fantastic. Usually we do tours with larger groups, so if you—”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I said while opening my wallet and showing her my PPD badge, “but we’re actually in search of your PPD.”

  She leaned in and studied the badge for a moment.

  “What’s a PPD?”

  I hadn’t considered the possibility that workers in London might not be as privy to information as the folks in Vegas. Then again, it wasn’t like we were in a hotel or anything here.

  Just as I was about to answer, another lady stepped over. She was a little older but still quite the looker. Obviously it was good business to pick attractive people to manage tours. A quick study showed a few nicely dressed dudes who had that same swagger going for them as the ladies.

  “Patty,” said the older woman, “why don’t you take my tour over there and I’ll work with these gentlemen?”

  “As you wish,” said Patty at length. “Do you know what a PPD is?”

  “It’s nothing to be worried about,” she replied. “Now, run along. We don’t want to keep the tour group waiting, do we?”

  “Indeed not,” answered Patty. She then gave me a sheepishly naughty grin and a little wave before walking away.

  I gave Harvey a look that said, “I knew she was hitting on me.” His look replied, “Whatever you say, Chief.”

  “Gentlemen,” said the older guide, bringing our attention back to her, “I believe you’re in the wrong building.”

  “We were told to come to the National Gallery in London,” I explained.

  “And you are looking for the London PPD, correct?”

  I glanced at Harvey and then answered, “Yes.”

  “You are in the wrong building.”

  That was odd. I never knew Lydia to be incorrect with things. In fact, it had never happened. I supposed it could have been due to the fact that we were in a different country here, but that seemed unlikely. We had the internet, after all. Plus, the various PPDs were connected via a wide network of information. Everyone kept everyone in the loop on everything. We had to in the event that the Overworld got overrun by the Netherworld.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Young man,” she said with a raised eyebrow, “I was in the PPD for many years. I can assure you that I’m quite certain you’re in the wrong building.”

  “According to my AI, it’s supposed to be inside the National Gallery.”

  “It’s still in the set, love. It’s just not the main galleria.”

  I gave her another glance, flipping on my amalgamite senses. Sure enough, she was a fae. That explained her good looks.

  I gave a quick look at Patty to see if she was a
lso a fae.

  She wasn’t.

  “Okay,” I acquiesced. “We’re in the wrong building. Could you tell us where we’re supposed to be?”

  “National Gallery Shop.”

  “Shop?”

  “More accurately,” she said while leading us back outside, “it’s in the back of the Sainsbury Wing where the shop is located.” She pointed at the building. “Walk there and turn right. You will pass the large black gates that separate the buildings. There you shall find a null zone, which contains the PPD.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “And do feel free to contact me again if you happen to need anything else.” Her eyes were twinkling. “It’s been some time since my last tryst with someone from your side of the pond.”

  I blinked at her. “I…uh…”

  “Have a pleasant day,” she replied with a smile before heading back inside.

  “You gotta keep your head in the game, Chief,” Harvey said as he and I padded down and turned right, seeing the black gates. “I know you’re the king of horny and all, but this isn’t the time for playing around with the ladies.”

  My only response was a grimace.

  The null zone was at the far end of the building. We stepped through and saw a hidden door there.

  “You sure it’s okay for us to go in there, Chief?” Harvey asked, looking worried.

  “We’re PPD officers, Harvey. Any precinct in the world will welcome us with open arms.”

  “They will?”

  I put my hand on the doorknob and hesitated.

  “I hope so.”

  Chapter 8

  Unlike the Vegas PPD, this place had a number of officers working already. They could have just been paper-pushers, but I couldn’t tell by looking at them.

  They wore nice suits, which I felt was the way all agents should dress. The mages stood out, wearing their trademarked leather garb, but even they were more dressed like Griff than Rachel. There were no long trench coats in this place, at least none that I could spot.

  That made me wonder if Rachel’s style of garb had changed.

  Interesting.

  “May I help you?” asked a young man in a light blue shirt with a dark blue jacket.

  “Hi, yes,” I said, fumbling a bit. “I’m, uh, Chief Ian Dex from the Las Vegas Paranormal Police Department.” I showed him my badge. “Is your chief around?”

  “I see,” the guy said. “This is about Officer Cress, yes?”

  “Right.”

  “Come this way.”

  We headed through a building that was double the size of the Vegas PPD but way smaller than the Netherworld one. This place was neatly kept, too, but I still thought our setup was better. Cubicles lined the floor here. Our design allowed for everyone to have their own office. Granted, we had a handful of officers and they had probably a few dozen, but there were always design options, if you cared enough.

  “Pardon me, Mr. Bellows,” our guide said, “but I have an Officer Ian Dex here from the Las Vegas PPD.”

  Bellows was a grumpy-looking older man. He had white hair that was parted on the left, hazel eyes, and a ruddy complexion. He wasn’t overly large in the middle, but he did look like he could use a few laps around the block. His gray suit jacket was hanging on a coat hook behind his large wooden desk, and his tie of choice was a simple black that lay neatly against his white shirt. His sleeves were also rolled up, which signaled this was a man who had no problem going into the trenches, should the need arise.

  My amalgamite senses told me he was a vampire. This was strange, seeing that he looked more gruff than classy.

  He gave me an annoyed look and sighed.

  “Come in, come in,” he said with a wave. “Have a seat.”

  Harvey and I took the chairs in front of him as he leaned back and crossed his arms, looking askance at me.

  “I was told that my former partner, Rachel Cress, was kidnapped.”

  “Indeed, she was,” he replied with a slow blink. “We have people out looking for her already. We’ll let you know when we find something. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to—”

  I stood up. “I’m here to help find her.”

  “You have no jurisdiction here, young man.”

  “I don’t care about jurisdiction,” I countered hotly. “This is my partner we’re talking about.”

  “Ex-partner,” he noted. “And while I applaud your loyalty, I’m afraid you’ll just have to allow my finest to do their jobs.”

  “Yeah, that’s not going to work for me.”

  Bellows stood up and put his hands on his desk. While he was an older guy, I got the feeling that he wasn’t someone who was easily subdued. He had scars and everything.

  “If you think I’m going to let some pantywaist upstart walk into my office and dictate terms to me, you have seriously misjudged the situation.”

  “And if you think I’m going to let some geriatric wad of fuckery stop me from finding the most important woman I’ve ever known, you’ve seriously got some re-evaluation to do.”

  We stared eye to eye for a few moments before Harvey stepped up and put his hands on both our shoulders.

  “Guys, guys,” he said, playing the role of peacemaker, “we’re on the same team, remember?”

  Bellows and I took our hands off the desk and stood back up, but we didn’t break eye contact.

  “Now, I know I’m just a rookie and you guys are both chiefs, but I think I have a solution to all of this.”

  We both looked at Harvey.

  “Okay, so Chief Dex here wants to help find his ex-partner, right?”

  “Obviously, Harvey,” I answered.

  “Right. And Chief Bellows, you want to make sure that we’re not running around interfering with your day-to-day operations and stuff, yeah?”

  “Are you going somewhere with this, young man?”

  Harvey swallowed.

  “Yeah. Rachel had a partner here, right?”

  “She did,” Bellows replied. “In a manner of speaking, anyway. The man is a complete arse.”

  “Was he captured, too?” asked Harvey.

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “So then he’s on his own?”

  “He is.”

  Harvey smiled. “Perfect. Just let us tag around with that guy. He can be in charge and—”

  “What?”

  “Hear me out, Chief,” Harvey said to me. “We’ll just be along for the ride. We can give some insights on how Rachel thinks and to provide support where needed.”

  Bellows licked his lips, showing that he was weighing things.

  “No,” he said finally with a firm shake of his head. “It’s just too much of a risk, especially knowing how you Americans operate.”

  Just as I was about to open a can of whoop ass on Bellows, Harvey put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a nod.

  “Okay, okay,” he said, turning back to Bellows. “I have another idea.”

  Bellows crossed his arms and grimaced. “I haven’t all day to bandy about with you two, so make it quick.”

  “It’s simple,” my werebear partner stated, “we can either go out on our own and hunt for Rachel, we can work with her partner, or you can deny us the ability to do both and I can pick you up right here in this office, snap you in two, and then stuff you into that garbage pail right there.”

  Bellows and I both looked taken aback by this, especially because of how calm Harvey had said it.

  I nearly laughed.

  “My loyalties are to my chief, Chief Bellows,” Harvey said in a dark voice. “Now, you can kick us out, and you can even put me in jail for ripping you to shreds, but if I go into werebear form right here, you’re going to be in a lot of pain for a long, long time.” He then put his hands on the desk and leaned in menacingly. “Do we have an understanding?”

  Bellows swallowed hard and nodded his head.

  Chapter 9

  “So, what did you think?” asked Harvey as we sat in a little waiting room while Bell
ows had Rachel’s partner summoned.

  “About what?”

  “Good cop, bad cop,” he said, as if it were obvious. “I was doing it like those guys from Starsky & Hutch used to do.”

  I assumed this was another show from the seventies, since Harvey had alluded to those over our last couple of months working together.

  “Which one were you?” I asked.

  “Starsky,” he answered.

  “No, I mean were you the good cop or the bad cop?”

  “The good cop, obviously.”

  I cocked my head at him. “You threatened to snap the guy in two and shove him into a trash can.”

  “Well, yeah, but…” He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Okay, fair enough. Still, though, you have to admit that you were more riled up than I was.”

  “The guy was trying to block me from helping to save Rachel,” I shot back. “Of course I was riled up. Still am, to be honest. If he had come to my precinct saying that his partner had been kidnapped, I would have held out a hand and asked how we could help him.”

  Harvey merely nodded in response.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “you did a good job, Harvey. I probably would have gotten there eventually with Bellows, but you easily cut the time in half.”

  Granted, he’d almost bent Bellows in half, too.

  “Thanks, Chief.”

  He looked uncomfortable. I couldn’t tell if it was due to my complimenting him or what, but there was definitely something wrong.

  “Something else the matter?”

  He looked over at me. “Hmmm?”

  “It’s like you’ve suddenly got ants in your pants,” I noted, pointing at him. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be jittery, not you.”

  “Oh, it’s just a thing with me, is all.” He sighed. “I get itchy.”

  “Ah.” I scooted away slightly. “You mean because you’re a werebear?”

  “Huh?” Then he grimaced. “No, it’s not because I’m a werebear. It’s because I like dressing the part.”

  Dressing the part? What was he talking about?

  I looked him over. He seemed dressed decently enough from my perspective. No, he wasn’t a suit-and-tie guy like me, but his brown dress pants and white shirt fit the bill.