Dead Stare (Ghosts & Magic Book 3)

by M. R. Forbes

  “Where’s Prithi?” I asked.

  She stared at me for a second, biting her lip. “He took her.”

  “Who?”

  She glanced over at Frank before leaning closer to me and whispering.

  “You know who.”

  It was the way she said it that told me all I needed to know.

  Death.

  “Why?”

  “He can’t find you.”

  “So he came after Prithi?”

  “He wants to talk.”

  “Son of a bitch. Where?”

  “Not yet. You have a job to do.”

  Death knew about my job? Not only that, but he wanted me to do it? I suddenly felt a lot less sure about helping Sandman out. There were forces at play here that were bigger than me or Mr. Black.

  “Then why did he take my Operator?”

  “Incentive? Insurance? Amusement? I don’t know. Do the job, get her back.”

  “I take it you’re my Operator, then?”

  She seemed to snap out of whatever meta-control Death had her under. She nodded. “It looks like it.”

  I turned and headed for the doorway.

  “Get dressed. We’re on the clock.”

  Frank backed out of the door as I approached.

  “I’m gonna go grab a cookie,” he said.

  17

  At least we agree on something

  It took thirty minutes for Myra to shower and dress. Frank had finished the entire batch of cookies save for one by then, offering her the final morsel as she emerged from the bedroom.

  “Cookie?” he said.

  “Who are you?” Myra asked. She had put on a little weight since I had seen her last, going from waifish to almost chubby. Did Prithi like her better that way, or had she just gotten a little too comfortable?

  “Frank Dobson,” Frank said, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Careful, Myra,” I said. “Frank hasn’t been a trogre for very long.”

  Myra took a single finger in her hand to shake. “Trogre?”

  “Troll plus ogre,” Frank said. “Conor made it up.”

  “Witty,” she deadpanned. “So, seriously. What the fuck?”

  “I’m still working on that,” I replied. “I’m sorry you got involved.”

  “It seems like Pree is always getting involved in something when it comes to you.”

  Pree? I suppose it was better than Pissy.

  “She only met you because of me.”

  “That’s the only reason I haven’t tried to stick a fork in your eye.”

  “Ouch,” Frank said.

  Myra looked at him. “You should reconsider your association with the Baron if you know what’s good for you. I’ve heard the stories. People wind up hurt or dead when he’s around. Everyone but him.”

  “That’s not fair,” I said. “Especially where Prithi’s concerned. She got herself involved.”

  “Whatever. How many other ghosts have a direct relationship with fucking Death?”

  “Death?” Frank asked.

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “If you’re in, suck it up and help me. Otherwise, I’ll bring Prithi back once I finish the job.”

  “Alive?”

  Ouch. History made that one cut. “Yes.”

  “No. I’m coming. You need a nerd, and I’m the only one around. What’s the job?”

  “I’ll explain in the car.”

  “Have it your way, Jack Skellington.”

  Frank laughed. I continued to the front door and out without looking back.

  They trailed behind me. Frank whispered something to Myra, who laughed and whispered back. I hated being the odd man out. I was also used to it.

  I had called a cab while we were waiting for Myra, and it was sitting at the curb when we left the apartment building. Myra threw her crap in the trunk, and we piled in. I sat up front with the driver, another orc.

  “I need to rent a van,” I said, pointing back at Frank. “One that he’ll fit in.”

  “No worries,” the driver replied.

  He dropped us off at a rental place five minutes later. Thirty minutes after that we were loaded into a vehicle fit for a trogre and on our way.

  “Okay, you told me you would brief me when we hit the road,” Myra said. “Spill it.”

  I looked over at her and checked Frank in the rearview. I had already given him the short version.

  “Mr. Black is keeping a prisoner. We’re going to set her free.”

  “I heard you say Mr. Black. The rest of it was all gibberish.”

  “You heard me.”

  “Where is this prisoner being held?”

  “Mr. Black’s home.”

  “Which one?”

  “The real one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  It wasn’t common knowledge that Black had an underwater evil wizard asshole lab. Even Tarakona didn’t know about it, and I had decided not to tell him. Thinking about it made me wonder if that had been a good idea. Maybe he could have Godzilla’d the place if he knew about it.

  “Black has a secret hideout. The door to it moves around all the time, to locations around the world. We have someone on the inside who gave me a list of some of the locations. The job is to find the door, go through it, and rescue the prisoner.”

  “You want to go into Mr. Black’s house? His real house?” Myra’s face had gone pale. “And Death is holding Prithi captive to make sure you do it?”

  “I was going to do it anyway, but yeah, I guess he’s worried I’ll chicken out once I start running into some opposition.”

  “Some opposition?” Myra said, he voice half shout and half squeak. “He’s going to throw everything he has at you.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I can decay magic.”

  “Conor, this can’t be done. It can’t. Pree is as good as dead.”

  “I don’t think so. Even if I die, Death won’t punish her for my failure. In fact, he’ll have to come to collect me.”

  I paused again. If I was still wearing the ring, would Death know how to find me? What would happen to me if he couldn’t? For some reason, that scared me more than the alternative.

  “I don’t want Pree working with you anymore. Do you hear me? When this is over, so is your little enterprise. Find another Operator. The money isn’t worth this.”

  I doubted that Myra could unilaterally make a decision like that. I shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

  That satisfied her enough that she sat back and stared out the window.

  I got about thirty seconds of silence out of it.

  “So, Conor,” Frank said. “When you say Death, you mean what, exactly? A dude in black robes carrying a scythe?”

  “What happens when you die?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, what?”

  “I don’t know either. But the Death I’m referring to does. I don’t know if he has control over it, but he definitely has power enough to see it and touch it. He hates me because I’m still alive when I’m not supposed to be. He’s threatened me, and he’s tried to take me captive.” I held up my hand. “This ring makes me invisible to him.”

  “Then he took Prithi because of that thing,” Myra said.

  “I didn’t know that would happen. The point is, he has a beef with me, and only me. I don’t know what he wants to talk about. I always assumed he would do what he could to force me to die, and that would be that.”

  “Maybe he wants to interview you on your experiences?” Frank laughed at his own, lame joke. “Oh, come on, pal. It sounds like we’ve got our hands full enough already. If this Death really is the Death, he’s got time to be patient.”

  “Yeah, I guess he does.”

  “So where are we headed?”

  “Los Angeles. The first target on Sandman’s list is there.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “What’s in it for you, Frank?” Myra asked. “Is he paying you for this?”

  “Nah. He helped me out of a t
ight spot, and I’m returning the favor. That’s all.”

  “He helped you? It must have been an accident.”

  Frank laughed. “It was. It doesn’t matter. If he’s sticking it to Black, then I’m in.”

  “It’s that simple for you?”

  “Yup. Say, can you put on the radio? I could go for a little Country right about now.”

  “Country?” Myra said. “Forget it.”

  “At least we can agree on something,” I said.

  18

  Guilty until proven

  It took six hours to cross the passage between Vegas and LA. It was a much smoother journey than the last time I had gone from Nevada to California, and being in a van instead of a bike made it much more comfortable.

  Mostly.

  I normally didn’t care when people didn’t like me, and Myra had been snarky towards me since the first time we met. I felt responsible for Prithi’s abduction, and it was making me more edgy about her presence on the passenger side. I could almost feel the frigid cold of her attitude reaching across the bucket seats and wrapping itself around my neck.

  Fortunately, at least this time, Frank’s effusive personality saved us both from choking on the tension. He talked almost nonstop across half the trek, covering everything from his first memory right up to the night before when I had set him free. He left nothing out. Nothing. No matter how embarrassing or stupid, if he thought it, he said it.

  I couldn’t help but like the guy, despite my best intentions not to. Anyone working a job with me had a good chance of dying. Myra had said it, I had denied it, but the truth was impossible to will away. Of the people who had gotten involved with me, only Amos had made it through in one piece, and I was convinced he was as hard to kill as any man alive.

  Myra took to Frank as well, sharing some of her childhood stories along the way, joining in his bellowing laughter and making the most of a shitty situation. We were almost like a small, albeit massively dysfunctional family by the time I rolled the van to a stop in the parking lot of a dumpy looking hotel and climbed out.

  “Here?” Myra said, scanning the face of it. It had been haphazardly painted purple, with an over-designed logo stenciled on it that looked like a weird cross between an ass and a breast.

  “We need to stay under two radars,” I said. “The mainstream hotels are going to be monitored.”

  “Isn’t your card anonymous?”

  “Yeah. But I tend to stand out in a crowd.” I lowered my hood, revealing my ugly, too small, bald head.

  “Hood up, Skellington,” Myra said, looking away.

  “Aw, you aren’t so bad,” Frank said, leaning down and putting his face near mine. “We’re almost twins.”

  “Shut up,” I said, circling to the back to grab my stuff. “Get your gear. Myra, I assume you brought your best equipment?”

  “I brought Pree’s best equipment.”

  Equipment I had bought her, at her request. It was all top of the line stuff.

  “Even better.”

  I got us checked into three adjacent rooms. We had to stick to the ground floor thanks to Frank’s height. Whatever. As long as Amos didn’t show up with another big rig, we were fine.

  “Here’s the address,” I said, writing it down on the complementary notepad and handing it to Myra. “See what you can find out about it, without anyone knowing you’re looking.”

  “I’m not a newbie,” Myra said.

  “How many ghosts have you worked for?”

  She snatched the paper from my hand without saying anything. She was a tech in the Vegas Blackout, not an Operator. She retreated to her bag, unzipping it and pulling out a narrow black rectangle, and then what looked like VR goggles. It was a newer version of the stuff the Machine developers used to code the backbone of the alternate reality. That small piece of tech had cost Tarakona a million dollars on its own. He said it was a small price for him to pay for what I had delivered, and I couldn’t disagree.

  “Frank, I need you to hang out here and keep an eye on things. There are never any guarantees that we weren’t tracked, followed, or ratted out.”

  “Is it okay if I order room service?”

  “Eat as much as you want, just don’t let anything happen to her.”

  He smiled. “Thanks, boss. Where are you going?”

  “I have my own ways of collecting intel.”

  “Like reviving dead people and asking them questions?”

  I sighed. That was the standard popular opinion on the usefulness of necros. In truth, that particular skill wasn’t all that valuable. If a necromancer survived long enough to learn to use the death magic, the last thing on their mind would be helping the cops solve murders or dealing with crap like that. Even if it weren’t, the dead never remembered the last hour or so leading up to their demise, so unless they were being held captive somewhere, they wouldn’t have the most accurate intel to share. Personally, I found it more efficient to either take mundane channels or threaten the living.

  “No,” I said.

  Frank laughed. “Okay, Mr. Mysterious. Suit yourself. You want me to order anything for you?”

  “I’ll be gone for a while. Myra should have my cell number if there’s an emergency.”

  “Got it. See you later, pal.”

  I thought about telling Myra I was leaving. She already had the goggles over her eyes, and a pair of wired gloves on her hands to help her navigate the Machine.

  Fucking guilt.

  I turned and left.

  19

  D.C

  I took the van from the hotel, through LA to a neighborhood that had once been known as Mid City, and today was more commonly called The District, with a capital ‘T’ in The. Why? I wasn’t sure. What I did know was that the stronger magical fields in that area made it a hive of activity for the Houses, and where the Houses had hives, ghosts gathered to pollinate.

  There was a certain illogical logic to trying to stay under the radar, and at the same floating into an area like The District. It was easier for me to keep my hood up and my face in shadow and look normal there, where in other parts of LA I would just look like an idiot tourist who didn’t know how to dress for warmth, and, as a result, would get a lot of stares.

  More importantly, The District provided certain services that I had need of, and being a gathering place for multiple Houses it meant that all of those services would be completely anonymous without fear of repercussion. When every House depended on those same supply lines, it made the integrity of the lines of the utmost importance.

  There were no cars allowed in The District. As far as the general populace was concerned, the area had been blockaded because it had tested positive for traces of the Creep, a House originated, mythical new world plant that was incredibly difficult to eradicate and whose spores did awful things to unsuspecting people. Naturally, the Creep was generally found in high magic areas. Regular people were terrified of getting sick from it, so they tended to stay a few blocks out just in case the spores managed to clear the walls.

  I parked on the street a few blocks away from the security checkpoint, grabbing the mask and dice from my bag along with a Glock and secreting the spellbook under the driver seat with some double-sided tape. I should have left it with Frank, but I didn’t want him bending it any more than he already had.

  I approached the pair of users at the checkpoint with my hood up and my hands out where they could see them. They didn’t make any attempt to look at my face as I reached them, only that my hands were in view and not about to launch anything at them. Only a ghost or House affiliate would even try to get in.

  “Nice day for a stroll,” one of them said as I walked between them.

  I exaggerated my nod so they could see my head move beneath my hood.

  “Enjoy your stay,” the other one said.

  Places like The District didn’t tend to be very organized. There were no zoning laws or regulations, only unwritten rules like ‘don’t shoot anyone unless you want t
o be shot,’ or ‘there is always a user more powerful than you,’ that kept things copacetic inside. The important part was that there was no shortage of suppliers, dealers, and fixers inside the walls, along with an assortment of like-minded individuals looking for work. The downside was that these individuals tended to be the ones who didn’t have the resources to do the same work inside the Machine, and so the available jobs on the inside tended to be garbage. I had done my time with those jobs. Most ghosts had.

  I wasn’t there looking for work. I bypassed everything and everyone without giving them a second thought, making a beeline for a small storefront a couple of blocks from the checkpoint. There were no signs on any of the shops around here. If you were there, you knew where you wanted to go.

  The store was barren up front, just a cracked tile floor that led to a counter with an empty glass showcase up front. An older woman was standing behind it with a bored look on her face.

  “I’m here to pick up,” I said.

  “Package ID?”

  I lifted my cell and checked the note I had left for myself. “329WK23212232.”

  She disappeared into the back without a word, returning a minute later with a small box and dropping it unceremoniously on the counter.

  I picked up the box, catching a glimpse out of the ghost in the back who was guarding the deliveries. He was wearing body armor and carrying a nasty looking machine gun. He gave me a slight nod when he saw that I saw him and then vanished into the shadows.

  “Have a nice day,” I said.

  The woman didn’t respond.

  I carried the package out, through the checkpoint and back to the van. I climbed into the back, closed the door, and set it on the bed behind the seats. Then I reached out, sending a thread of power from the outside of the box to the inside. Six months ago I had to touch a dead thing to bring it back. Even fairly healthy, my power was still growing. Or at least, my ability to use it was.

  I felt the soul rejoin the body. The box began to shift as the dead thing inside it started to panic, unable to see. I peeled the tape from the box, setting it free.