Tales Of The Abysmal Plane (Zoë Martinique Short Stories) (The Zoë Martinique Investigation Series)

by Phaedra Weldon

  I hear you.

  She was there, if a bit far away.

  Are you in position, she sent back and touched the screen to call up the door they were set to step through. By way of Joe's magic and Azrael's ability to get in undetected, she'd been pretty sure they'd get through to this point without a hitch.

  Yes. We are outside the door. But I can sense humans—close by.

  Rhonda checked the infrareds. There were two guards coming close to their position. She'd have to do this fast.

  Standby.

  After a deep breath meant to calm her pounding heart, Rhonda opened up each of the cameras along the wall, as well as the monitor attached to the door. She replaced the video feed with a loop of an empty area and then deactivated the sensor on the door without setting off the alarm.

  After checking the hallways from that door to where she would meet them, Rhonda said, Go ahead.

  She stood and set the iPad on the highest server stack where it would be out of sight of any prying eye if the wrong people happened to come into the room. She set the chair to the side and then sneaked back out of the server room as she made her way back down the corridor to the stairs.

  Their meeting place was in the lobby area near where Dags slept. The main lights were off, leaving only a light on in the monitoring station, which was empty. Rhonda had made sure that all the schedules gave the girls who worked there the night off.

  She felt them arrive, Azrael and Daniel the strongest because of their First Borns. Azrael was an unhosted First Born and, therefore, more powerful.

  Joe appeared first, then the other two. Daniel moved with a grace Rhonda had never seen before on him. He was so different now—and yet the same. She motioned for them to join her at the monitoring station. Joe and Daniel stepped into the room—and Azrael stayed outside.

  "I'm glad you guys got in here so quick," she said, as she typed in a few commands and pulled up the monitor for Dags' room.

  "We're glad too," Joe said in a low voice. He had his gun in his hand and was watching her. "Though I'm not sure how."

  "Magic right?" she transferred command of the camera feed to her iPad in the server room. There was a slight jump and then the loop of a sleeping Dags.

  "No," Joe said. "I never got the chance to cast anything."

  That made her stand up. "What?" she said softly.

  Daniel put up a hand. "Why don't we just get him out of here and talk about dumb luck later?"

  Rhonda nodded, but the revelation nagged at her. If they hadn't used magic to cross the yard and not set off the alarms—then how had they?

  The whole thing gave her a sinking feeling. Were they being watched? Had someone discovered what they were up to?

  "He's in room 3B. He's not sedated or anything, but he'll be slow to move. You guys ready?"

  "I can carry him," Daniel said. "I'm ready. Just get us there."

  Rhonda gave him a smile before she moved them back and stepped out in the hallway. Azrael, dressed in a gray tank top, gray and black fatigues, and black combat boots, turned to face her. The outfit showed off his mighty physique. He still wore his shades—and she was grateful. His white milky eyes freaked her out.

  "Are we ready?"

  Rhonda nodded and felt them follow her down the hall.

  "Where's Nona?" Joe said as they neared the door.

  "She's not here tonight," Rhonda said. "I made the schedule look like they were moving him tonight instead of tomorrow. She wasn't allowed to be with him—but would come after he was secured."

  Azrael snorted. "Secured. The guy's a freak'n vegetable."

  "With a six-zillion-ton bomb fused to his soul," Daniel said. "We exercise caution with him."

  They stopped outside the room, and Rhonda opened the door with her key. She stepped back as they filed in. Again, Azrael stayed in the hallway.

  Dags was dressed in a pair of black-and-white plaid loungers and nothing else. He lay curled on his side, his back to them as they approached. The monitors were all under Rhonda's app's control so she put a finger to her lips and shook him softly. "Darren…we need to go. I need you to get up and stand for me."

  He moved and turned over. His eyes opened, gray and dull, but he seemed to hear her. Like this, he only did what he was told. No independent thought. Only sporadic movements. He continued to look at her as he stood. His hair was askew—stuck up at odd angles a lot like Joe's—only Joe's always looked like that. He was losing weight and looked a little too thin to her.

  But he was still beautiful.

  "Darren, Daniel is going to carry you out, okay? So I want you do let him do that."

  Dags gave her a slow nod and waited.

  "He's like a zombie," Joe said. He seemed fascinated.

  "He is, in a way. Can only take commands, but can't think for himself. If we didn't feed him, he'd never eat. Or go to the bathroom. Or sleep. He'd just sit there and waste away."

  "That sucks ass." Joe arched his eyebrows you.

  Rhonda nodded. "Duh? Now you know why we needed this kind of care for him round the clock."

  Daniel neared Dags and had just started to lean in to pull him into a fireman's carry—

  The ground shook, dust fell from the ceiling, and the building alarm went off.

  "Damnit," Joe said as he checked the clip in his gun. One in the barrel. "What the hell did TC do now?"

  "I didn't do a damn thing," Azrael said as he came into the room. "But I heard a lot of stomping and yelling before that explosion. Something's happening topside—and I don't think it's got anything to do with them finding us."

  "Actually I think it's got a lot do with it," Daniel said. "I think the Ethereals discovered the truth in moving Dags, and the Virtues are attacking."

  "You mean like in a bombing?" Joe said.

  "No, more like sending in lackeys. Someone else is up there. Which is going to hinder our progress. It's a distraction—and not the kind we need."

  "So what do we do?" Rhonda asked, feeling her mind running fast ahead of her. They hadn't really made a contingency plan—except fighting their way out of the situation, as usual.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  All of them but Dags turned their head as a tall man in a Fulton County police officer's uniform stepped through the door. He wore a hat and glasses and pointed at Dags. "He ready?"

  Rhonda blinked. She knew that voice. And she felt another presence—Mephistopheles! "Jason?"

  He grinned beneath the shades and nodded. "Good to see you too, Rhonda."

  "Where…how…?" she looked at him and then the door.

  "I work for the Society, remember? That little altercation back before Halloween with the—" he held up his hand and shook his head. "Love to catch up—but we need to go. There's a SWAT Team upstairs ready to come down here and start shooting. Taking names optional."

  "What's going on?" Daniel said as he neared Jason. Their First Borns were close siblings.

  "Apparently it's all over the news. Society of Ishmael captured a millionaire's son and is holding him in this compound. You guys are running a cult here and brainwashed this kid. An insider says the boy's been drugged and is catatonic."

  "Oh you are kidding me," Rhonda put a hand to her forehead.

  "No I'm not," he said and looked around. "But if you don't get out of here now—we're not going anywhere."

  Nona

  SHE had just stepped out of Elizabeth, her Volvo, when the first explosion shook her under her tennis shoes. Nona made a small noise and reached out to steady herself on the car's warm hood. What the hell was that? Oh no...had Darren woken for some reason and called up a spell? That scenario was one she'd worried about—that somehow the pages in his soul would shuffle, and the wrong thing would surface.

  Men filed out of one of the nearby buildings in the compound. They were dressed in black, with vests and helmets and carrying guns. That's when she noticed the other cars lined up outside the front gate—she'd taken the side gate—the one so few people knew
about. Her car was behind the house, close to the kitchen and the garden.

  Why are all these people here?

  After slipping her key into the fanny pack at her hip, Nona picked her way up to the door and stepped inside. Curry was the first thing she smelled—and garlic. And something a bit sweeter. Basil? Lots of onions. She had no idea what the staff had for dinner—but it made her stomach growl.

  As to why she was back after being dismissed until Darren was moved—it had a lot to do with guilt. Being unsure. Not seeing clearly anymore when it came to her daughter, the world, and her former husband. Usually she was so sure. So focused on what was in front of her. What needed to be done. But when she'd reached her shop this evening—after being told she wouldn't be needed at Darren's side tonight—she found Jemmy waiting for her.

  And Jemmy—if anything—was damn honest.

  "I just came to find out why, Nona. Why you would turn that helpless boy over to people who want nothing more than to pick him apart and use him for all kinds of nefarious purposes." Her dark eyes had flashed with anger, and Nona had realized this was something her old friend had been holding back, but wanted to say. And now seemed to be the best time. "Now at first I thought I understood. I thought you were only thinking of his welfare—of getting him all unscrambled so you could get Zoë back. But that was over three months ago, child," and Jemmy had put her hands on her hips.

  Nona had started to explain. Protest her innocence and reassure Jemmy she was thinking of Darren's welfare, as well as Zoë's. She was worried about the world. But the words had died on her lips. Turned to sour grapes in her mouth.

  "Yeah...I see it. You got confused, Nona. Mislead. I know you gonna figure it out sooner or later, which is the right path and which the wrong. And you always know'd that the right path isn't always the easiest. Darren and your daughter are meant to be together. They're cut from the same cloth now, Nona. There are things in Heaven what fear them both, but do you really think if they were a danger—something to fear so much—that the good Lord would have afforded them love?"

  That had struck Nona through the heart. For months after Zoë disappeared, after they found Dags in such a condition, Nona had believed their union was doomed. That the universe had forbidden it. That all of their misfortune had come the day her daughter had been touched by darkness.

  But in her soul, she knew Zoë wasn't evil, and she'd learned that the Phantasm, for all her faults, had been nothing more than a betrayed child who only wanted the approval of her father.

  So without a word, Nona had driven back to the compound and stumbled into something terrible.

  She smelled smoke when she moved past the kitchen. The sound of gunfire. Shouts. And the acrid tinge of magic in the air.

  Ethereals!

  "Miss Martinique, you really shouldn't be here."

  The voice was young, and somewhat oily. Oily was a hard word to define, but it was a good one to communicate the way the voice made her feel. She turned to see an unfamiliar man in a gray suit step into the kitchen from the same door she'd used. He had long blond hair, swept back into a neat ponytail. Bright blue eyes peered out from the silver glasses perched on his nose.

  "Do I know you?"

  "No. But I know your husband. And he wanted me to make sure you got out of here safe."

  She narrowed her eyes. Her husband. Adiran. Choir instigator for her great-uncle's biggest whups. "What's happening?"

  "The Society is being infiltrated," the man said as he neared and took up a position not too close, but not too far away. He had one hand on the metallic surface of a workstation, the other in the pocket of his slacks. "I'm afraid the governor put out a warrant for the Society's arrest—pending charges of tax fraud and kidnapping."

  "Kidnapping?"

  "Darren Gregory McConnell III, of course." His brows knitted together over his glasses. "Didn't you know who your little charge was?"

  She had to admit that she didn't know much about Darren's background at all. "He's a third?"

  "He's an heir. Originally from Oregon, it seems. He has one surviving parent."

  "He said his mother died, and his father died in the line of duty." Nona didn't like the way this sounded.

  "She did...and he did. But you see," the man's smile broadened. "No one else has to know that. But still, we promise to take good care of the Grimoire once we have it in our hands. Now please," and he turned sideways to indicate the door he and she had stepped through. "Adiran insisted you not be present when all of this goes down."

  "Is Adiran here?"

  "No—he's readying the Throne for the Grimoire." He held up a finger. "That is, once they get the pages pulled from the vassal and ordered correctly. I hear Miss Orly has several of those pages." He looked at his watch. "I'm sure it's only a matter of minutes before we have all of them rounded up."

  He was a Virtue. She guessed that pretty early on. Same as Adiran Martinique. She could also guess the Ethereals knew the Society was going to move Darren to a much more secure location, considering all the publicity showing up in the news about Societies and organizations that didn't have public records. They had spies amid the Society.

  And perhaps, in some strange way, she'd aided them. "When you say you'll pull the pages from the vassal—you mean kill Darren."

  "Nona, please," and he clasped his hands in front of him. "Mr. McConnell is already dead. His mind's hopelessly cluttered with the book. This is all for the best. Now, if you'll step out of the door, I can make sure you get home."

  Nona smiled. He thinks I'm a helpless old lady. This thought brought about a rise of confidence she'd not had in several months. Not since being yanked from her body and imprisoned inside of a Soul Cage, and then a rotting corpse. That kind of experience, as well as her life up to that point, had all pretty much molded her into a woman of stronger stuff.

  They meant to kill Darren. A boy who'd never wanted any of this. A boy whose background still remained a mystery to her. To everyone. A boy who loved her daughter more than his own life.

  A decision was made in that instant as she turned from him and took several steps to the door. Before she reached it, she turned and put a hand on his chest. "I'm sorry, dear boy. What was your name?"

  "Raziel."

  And there she had it. The last piece of the spell that twisted round in her head. Her hand glowed bright blue with Witch Fire, and the man with the beautiful face and long blond hair twisted, bent, and popped into a new dimension of existence as a tiny cotton ball. Nona smiled as she caught him like a firefly and then moved to the spice rack. She chose a rather unique bottle and popped the little ball inside. "I'm sorry, little Virtue. But I can't let you hurt Dags, or my daughter, anymore. No matter what Adiran believes. I realize it's not the same as me."

  "Wow...remind me never to get on your bad side."

  She whirled at the familiar voice and nearly dropped the bottle. "Nick!' The name slipped out before she could stop herself.

  Nick Shay moved into the kitchen. His blond hair was pulled back as well, and he wore dark clothes. A Glock was in a gloved hand, and he gave her a hug with the free one. "Nona Martinique. So," he stood back and looked down at her. "You here to help? Or do I eat you?"

  She tried not to look alarmed. But Nick did frighten in her in a way, more so than his master, her former lover, Jason Lawrence. Nick was a Ghoul and could, by all means, eat her. "Where are they, Nick. I can get them out."

  He glanced back as the fighting sounds grew closer. "Mephistopheles is letting me know right now. You should be in range to hear him if we get going. They're about three floors down." Nick took her hand and led her back to the door. With his gun out, he looked right, and then left. "But it might take us a while to get down there."

  "Wait," and she pulled him back in. "I know a way around. Care to take a little stroll in the moonlight?"

  He grinned down at her. Straight white teeth. He might technically be reanimated flesh, but he was one of the handsomest Ghouls she knew. "Lead the
way, young'n."

  To him she was young. Much younger.

  Nona motioned him to follow as the two made their way from the kitchen to the back gardens. Near the center was an exit she was sure Rhonda would remember. And she told Nick to tell Mephistopheles to tell Rhonda, "Margarita Monday."

  Back in the kitchen, grumbling fitfully inside of a stoppered bottle, sat an angry, pissed-off Virtue.

  Joe

  THIS is bad—really bad.

  Joe crouched as low as he could, his weapon in front of him as he led the way down the corridor. He took point, checking around corners, as Azrael brought up defense behind Rhonda, Jason, and Dags. Dags was draped over

  Jason's shoulder with Rhonda keeping a close eye on the iPad in front of her. Rhonda pulled up a set of diagrams giving an overlay of exits not on the submitted blue prints that she'd made while the house was in construction.

  Jason had gotten a message from Nick—which had made no sense to

  Joe. "Midnight Margarita?"

  But Rhonda seemed to understand the message and was certain they were going to get out of this one with their skins intact.

  I dunno...he thought to himself as he used a mirror he pulled from his belt and looked around the corner. This seems pretty dicey. According to Jaso,n that was SWAT up ther,e and they don't play around. If they had orders to kill us—intel that we really had kidnapped some hot-shot's son? Having Dags unmoving over Jason's shoulder just didn't look real smart. Anyone gets a shot of that—it'll be all over the news.

  But the Revenant refused to put him down.

  In the mirror, Joe saw the two doors Rhonda claimed would be up ahead. He also saw two shadows reflected on the floor, just around the other corner at the end of the straightaway. He held out his hand for them to stop and nodded for Rhonda to come closer. Once she did, he whispered. "There are at least two of them around corner, waiting for us. Which one of those doors is the one you want?"

  Rhonda took the mirror, and he shifted back to let her flatten herself against the wall and sneak a peek around the corner. She looked back at her iPad, then back at the mirror. "It's the door facing them. The one facing us is an office."