“So, this will help you?” Regina asked, leaning to one side.
I realized I’d been lost in thought for a while. “Yes. Absolutely.”
She finally got back to her tea, though it was certainly cold by that time. After a sip, she smiled and said, “Well, I’m glad I could help. It’s not often I get tested on this kind of knowledge.”
The suspicious part of me wondered why Regina spent so much time studying such esoteric things. Was she a practitioner? I hadn’t sensed that while talking with her. Still, knowing for sure would tell me how cautious I ought to be.
“So,” I said, framing a question to which I probably wouldn’t get a direct answer. “You know an awful lot about this stuff. Do you... believe any of it?”
She smiled briefly and set her cup down. “Well, there are certain aspects that are tied to my faith, but I have my doubts regarding the accounts and lists of demons described in many of these texts. I guess I just find it fascinating. There has always been such... an obsession with demonology throughout history.”
Gee, I wonder why, I thought, reflecting on my own reasoning for seeking such knowledge. “So it’s just a hobby?”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Do I?” The notion should have thrilled me, but I supposed I kept hoping to run into somebody with all the answers. “Well, that’s not the case. We’re lucky to have you.” In an attempt to change the subject, I added, “If you spent any more time on this, I’d have to hire you as a consultant.”
“What is this all about?” she asked. “Do you need this information for something that’s going on right now?”
“Sorry, but I can’t really talk about that. I know that’s not very fair considering how helpful you’ve been.”
Regina stared into my eyes for a moment. I became aware of the fact that I was alone with an attractive young woman whose looks were only enhanced by her intellect. What could I say? The librarian thing did it for me.
“I understand,” she said. “Maybe you can let me know how things turn out.”
That night was the closest thing to a date I’d been on in over six months. After that gloomy thought, I wasn’t going to be able to think of anything else. My mind wanted to interpret Regina’s pleasant demeanor and helpful attitude as something more. I needed to get back to business. There was a demon running around out there.
“Yeah, maybe.” I checked my watch, realizing how much time has passed. “Miss Stanton... I’m terribly sorry, but I have to go. You’ve been incredibly helpful.”
“Oh, it was my pleasure,” she said, standing as I did. “Come by anytime.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The door to the Stanton’s bookstore shut solidly behind me and I walked down the block to my car. Glad I hadn’t parked in the same lot where James Thompson had died, I found my Buick on the street where I left it and got in.
I pulled on my seatbelt. A fleeting glance in my rearview mirror showed someone in the back seat. It didn’t register right away, but when I did the double-take, my heart jumped into my throat. I reached for my Glock awkwardly, the belt interfering. I had no idea how I could’ve missed spotting the being as I’d approached.
As I struggled to get at my gun, a familiar voice drifted forward. “Be at ease, Mr. Graves. I’m not here to assault you.”
I twisted to look back until my spine hurts. “Harkin? What the hell are you doing? I could have shot you. I don’t know how much you care…”
“I wouldn’t care in the least,” he said, idly checking his pocket watch. “This is only a projection. Shooting would just damage your vehicle.”
My heart still raced a million miles an hour. I finally managed to get my seatbelt undone and shifted around to face him. He stared at me impassively.
“Well, what do you want?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Such attitude. Here I am exerting myself to bring you the information you requested.”
“Requested? I paid you good money for it.” Maybe my mood hadn’t evened out since Alastor’s joy ride. Realizing that, I tried harder to be courteous. Harkin was trying to help me after all.
He looked away disdainfully and shifted uncomfortably. “You pittance of a tribute certainly has no bearing on my choosing to be here.”
It was late and I needed him to get to a point before my mouth ruined a potential lead. “Alright, what do you have for me?”
“A man came into my shop today. He stank of urine and blood. You’ll be interested in what he purchased.” Harkin’s spell looked like a damned good hologram, but it flickered, some sign of momentary distraction.
“Let me guess,” I said with a grimace. “Brass and glass. Stone and bone. A black chicken. Why didn’t he go to a hardware store and a butcher’s shop?”
“The quality he demanded is meant only for the most potent of conjurations.”
“And you just sold it to him?”
Harkin rolled his eyes. “I’m in this business to make a profit. One cannot profit if one refuses service to every dubious client. As you know, most of those in our community fit that description.”
“Yeah, yeah. Not your concern. I get it. Is there anything else you can tell me?”
The rotund storeowner shook his head. “I’ve told you more than I should have already. I don’t make a habit of violating the trust of my clients. Or by making enemies of the Exiled.”
“Harkin. Before you go… how did this guy pay?” I asked tentatively, hoping for another clue to track this guy, though I doubted that Oliver Pontas wrote him a check.
He snorted, but said, “With one of the most precious currencies in the supernatural community. He knew the true names of three demon lords.”
Wow. I blinked a few times. “I don’t suppose you got his name?”
“I did... but I can’t share that with you.”
He could have just told me “no”, I thought. He’s trying to help me without breaking his rules, whatever they are. If he’d already told me all he could, he’d be gone.
The supernatural world was full of bizarre rules and conventions. Some creatures couldn’t lie to a mortal. Some had to keep a promise or oath on pain of death. Maybe Harkin was one of those things or maybe he was just doing business.
“How about I guess?” I offered. “You answer yes or no.”
The figment projection of the storekeeper stared at me blandly. “Well, I suppose if you know the name already... there’s no harm in me telling you that he made a purchase.”
I spoke quickly on the chance he changed his mind. “Berith.”
Harkin nodded once.
With that, the stout man evaporated in a puff of steam and light. It was all very glam, like old school David Bowie. Luckily, the mystical glitter completely disappeared. Otherwise, I’d have sent him a bill for getting my car detailed.
The confirmation of the demon’s name solidified a few theories for me. I filed them away for later. If only I’d managed to get its true name as well. “Berith” was certainly a common nickname for the fiend and would hold little sway over it.
“Three true names…” I shook my head as I started the car.
The true name of a supernatural, otherworldly creature was dangerous ammunition in a summoner’s arsenal. It granted a ritualist, wizard, or other being great power over it. They didn’t give it out to just anyone. I wondered what Harkin did with his mystical millions.
Berith... The common name of the Exiled master—essentially Oliver’s puppet master—might have been helpful. Unfortunately, I didn’t know anything about that particular demon. But I bet I know someone who does. I just had to decide if I was ready to speak to my patron again so soon after what had happened.
I mulled over the decision as I drove. I tried turning up my music, but not even Tool could distract me from the introspection. I’m not that desperate yet. I’ll chase down a few more leads first. But what if I’m too late? Oliver-Berith has the components he needs.
Instead of thinking about my stud
y session with Regina, Alastor, or how much of a screw-up I was, I carefully recalled everything Regina had said about Berith. Some detail of that would certainly be useful. It was just getting dark as I pulled into my garage.
As soon as I walked in my door, I picked up the cordless and started dialing. Peeling off my coat and loosening my tie, I waited for an answer. I kept moving, stomach growling after hours of neglect. I grabbed a frozen dinner and popped it in the microwave, all before I got an answer.
“Hello,” came the voice of Detective Mendoza.
After the way we’d parted, I decided to play it straight. “Detective. It’s Agent Graves. I’ve got some new information.”
“You don’t waste time.” The tone sounded almost approving.
“Your flattery will go to my head,” I couldn’t resist saying. “Our perp is on the move. He’s bought what he needs to perform the ritual, but he still needs—”
“A sacrifice,” she filled in.
“Not just anyone either. He’s not taking any risks. He’s loading up on the best components he can latch his claws on. It’ll be a young woman or a child.”
“Have you called the station?”
“No, I thought it would have more authority coming from you.” I could have tried to throw my FBI weight around and maybe gotten some results, but I knew Mendoza could light a fire under their asses better than I ever could.
“I’ll have them elevate the urgency of any missing persons reported with an emphasis on children. Kidnap victims always go to the FBI, so it should be fine if I drop your name. I’ll get all the precincts in on it,” she said, the concern carrying through in her tone.
I tried to be reassuring. “We’ll get him.”
She didn’t need any comforting from me. “Is that all?”
“Yeah, good ni—” I got the dial tone.
I sighed and shook my head. The microwave chirped as I checked in with Phil. Luckily for me, Mendoza had already called him and fed him a bullshit version of the events of the last two days. I kept my input simple so as not to get caught in a lie.
Phil talked about getting warrants and coordinating with the agency to help sift through the missing person reports we’d get. There would be a lot of wild goose chases, but hopefully one of the cases would be our perp. Both Phil and I knew it was worth it.
When I finished with Phil, I dialed Bryce Campbell.
A woman I assumed was his mother answered pleasantly, “Campbell residence. Lina speaking.”
“Hello, Mrs. Campbell,” I said in my professional voice. “This is Special Agent Landon Graves with the FBI. I’d like to speak with Bryce if that’s alright with you.”
“What’s this concerning?” she asked, her tone immediately becoming defensive.
I tried to put her at ease. “Your son hasn’t done anything wrong. I’d just like to speak with him about… an area he happens to have some expertise in. He and I have spoken once before.”
“Oh,” she said. “Hold on. I’ll get him.”
I heard the muffled sounds of her setting the receiver down and calling to Bryce. He came to the phone and I made out the murmurs of a brief conversation before he picked up the line. Full of teen-aged rebellious attitude, Bryce asked, “What do you want G-man?”
“Stop that, Bryce,” his mother said, her voice coming clearly. “I’ll be staying on the line, Mr. Graves. Now, what is it you need my son’s help with?”
I hesitated, unsure whether or not Bryce’s talent at magic was known by all parties. I didn’t want to throw him under the bus, especially after he’d saved my ass. I decided to remain vague to protect any secret the young man might have been trying to keep.
“I’m involved in a case where an individual is performing certain occult rituals,” I explained. “These sorts of things are rather rare, so it’s not like there is a lot of readily available information on the topic. Bryce was recommended to me as a… source of information.”
“You want his help because he’s a wizard?”
Well, that simplifies things. I cleared my throat. “Yes, ma’am.”
She sighed heavily. “Alright, Mr. Graves. I see that I don’t need to be on the line.”
I thanked her as she hung up. There was a moment of silence as I considered how to frame my question. I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to tell this kid about what was going on, but I decided to risk it and cut to the point. He had already seen me at my worst.
“If you had every component necessary to invoke a Gate spell, where would you do it? What would be the best way to stop you?”
I heard a sharp sucking, a sound of upset disappointment. “A place away from people. Away from distractions. A place where there is little to no life and no interfering energies. I don’t know. That’s not something I’ve ever really considered.”
That was a good sign of Bryce’s disposition. “And stopping the invocation?”
“Assuming it’s already started? You could break the circle, but that’s risky to everyone within a hundred yards. Maybe more. You could kill the invoker or just distract him badly enough to ruin the spell. That might kill him anyway.”
I saw that I had some options once I found Oliver, but that thought led me to the crux of my problem. “This Gate could be opening anywhere. How do I find the site?”
There was a long stretch of silence. I almost asked if he was still there, but he spoke up. “Find the caster, not the site. That’s your best bet.”
What do you think I’ve been doing? I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. “I’ve just about exhausted my options here.”
“Well, give me a call when you have completely exhausted your options.”
The straight forward tone and lack of sarcasm made me instantly wary. “Okay… thanks. I’ll be in touch.”
The phone went dead and I was left with most of the night to catch up on some much needed sleep. I had a feeling the next few days would be rough.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was only Thursday morning and I was dead tired. I winced at the bright fluorescent lights over my desk. I had to put in a few more hours on my other cases, but Alastor had pretty much put me in the clear. I checked my messages and returned some calls. The mundane routine of it was almost enough to distract me from the whole Gate-Starting-the-Apocalypse thing.
The reprieve didn’t last long. My desk phone rang just before noon and I felt dread as I picked it up. I’d been waiting for that call. I expected some junior agent to relay a slew of missing person reports. “Agent Graves.”
“Landon. It’s Phil. We need to meet up. I’ll be at the office in a few minutes. Meet me downstairs in the lot.”
“Sure.” I hung up the phone feeling somewhat relieved. It hadn’t started yet. I knew I had to stop Oliver before he irrevocably ruined the mortal world, but the thought of facing off against a demon possessed wannabe wizard shook my resolve. Wasn’t there someone else?
I thought of Mendoza. She was capable, but I couldn’t just leave it to her as much as I’d like that. Bryce might help, but the kid—and he was a kid, despite his apparent power—seemed supremely uninterested in the goings-on of the world at large.
For a moment, I wondered if the Powers would intervene. Then I realized with a tightening in my stomach that they already had. They’d picked their agents—or pawns—in this little matter of world annihilation.
No, I was in this whether I liked it or not.
Part of me was glad I couldn’t back out. I could finally do something good, something that wouldn’t leave me sick to my stomach. I, the idiot who got tricked into selling his soul, would save the world. So what if I died in the process?
I gulped down the last of my coffee and met Phil in the parking garage. I saw a few cigarette filters snubbed out at his feet in addition to the one he held when I greeted him. As I understood it, his wife had convinced him to give up the habit.
“Are things okay?” I asked as I approached.
He blew a long puff of smoke and shrugged.
“My wife doesn’t like how risky my job is. She wants me to move into admin. Shit like this brings it into sharp relief.”
I wished I could sympathize. “This is going to end. Soon. One way or another.”
“So, you think this guy is going to escalate things?”
“Absolutely.” Committing to the cover story that we were dealing with a paranoid and delusional drug addict, I added, “He’s failed one ‘ritual’ already. Now, things have to be perfect. He’s frustrated and is even more dangerous because of it.”
I was still unclear on how Mendoza had explained the way we got onto Oliver Pontas in the first place. Of course, searching his apartment after the fact proved that we had the right guy, but that initial part would be the weak link of the report. I had to figure that out later.
“So, when you say ‘perfect’, what does that mean?” The veteran agent placed his hands on his hips revealing both his underarm holster and a piece at his side.
He needed to know how serious things had gotten, but I knew I’d regret it when he started plying me for answers as to how I’d gotten my information. “The ritual will take place in an even more remote place. The sacrifice will be someone more ‘pure.’ A young woman or a child.”
“What if he completes this ‘ritual’ of his?” Phil asked. I could tell he was thinking about his own kids. “What happens when he kills again?”
You can’t imagine in your worst nightmares, I thought before saying, “You mean when nothing happens? I imagine that it would enrage him. He might kill himself or go on a murdering spree. Let’s not find out.”
Phil nodded curtly. “We’ll follow up on your leads. Coordinate with Mendoza.”
“I’ll get on it.”
“You need a radio in your car,” Phil berated me in what might have been a joking manner if things hadn’t been so tense. “And a pager. You’re out of communication too much.”
Graves Pact (Landon Graves Book 1) Page 17
