by M. D. Massey
“Tell me what you want.”
I tsked. “Come now, Cécile—you know what I want. Tell me where to find the vampire called ‘Raffy,’ and I’ll return your mortar and skin to you.”
The face in the ball of flame laughed. “He’ll kill you, just as easily as swatting a fly.”
I made a show of examining my fingernails. “We tangled once, and he didn’t get the better of me then. What makes you think he will the second time around?”
“Because he was toying with you. He wanted you to know what he was, so when he killed the woman you’d know you tried and failed to stop him.”
I knew she was right, but I didn’t care to let her see that. “Interesting. Well, your master may be old, but he’s not invincible.”
She bristled. “I have no master—not for a very long time. Rafael is my maker, but I do not serve at his command.”
“Then tell me where I can find him, so we can conclude our business transaction.”
She floated there, quiet for several seconds. “Fine, but know that you go to your death. Look for him where the night creatures rest. He’ll be among his little brothers and sisters, hiding from the sunlight.”
It took me a moment to puzzle out what she meant. “The bridge? You mean he doesn’t stay at the condo with you?”
“Two old ones of our kind, living under the same roof? His years might dwarf mine, but he respects my sovereignty—as he has from the day he freed me. No, he would not trespass in my home, nor stoop so low as to impose on me in any way. That is why I still serve him.”
Huh. “Cécile, one last question… why does a centuries-old vampire need to hide behind a glamour?”
She chuckled, and it sounded like cinders crackling in a campfire. “Seek him, and you will find out. Now, I have given you what you asked for. It is your turn now to give me what is mine.”
“So it is.” I reached into my bag and grabbed the mortar, rolling it across the parking lot so it landed beneath her. It was still wrapped inside the shopping tote I’d tucked it in earlier. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t messed with it since.
The soucouyant descended on the thing immediately, flaring with light as she burned the canvas shopping bag away from its contents. She spoke something in Creole, and one of the bundles of skin, hair, and nails floated out of the stone bowl. It unfolded itself and expanded to take the shape of an old hag. As it did, the fireball that was Cécile’s incorporeal form collapsed in on itself, until it was just a tiny flicker of flame. Then, it flew into the skin sack’s empty eye socket.
I watched as the flame expanded inside the skin sack, and plugged my ears as a short, sharp wail came from those dead, leathery lips.
“No, what have you dooonnn…”
Whoosh! The skin sack burst into flame and was immolated instantly, cutting off the witch’s cry. The resulting flash was so hot that I cringed away and covered my face with my arms. An instant later, nothing remained but ash.
I walked over to the mortar and lit a match, carefully tossing it into the bowl on top of the second skin sack—the one that belonged to the poor woman who’d owned the condo. It took a few seconds, but then it too burst into flames along with the gunpowder, magnesium shavings, and sawdust I’d dumped inside each sack of skin. I’d only hoped that Cécile’s wisp form would ignite it, but hadn’t been sure it would work.
Luckily, my plan had gone off without a hitch. That was, until a seven-foot tall berserker werebear jumped over the gate and landed in the junkyard parking lot.
16
“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered. I had the yard warded against all manner of supernatural creatures, but warding against ’thropes was tricky. They were the most human of all monsters, but they came in many different shapes, sizes, and species.
To ward against them, I’d had to create a separate spell for each type of ’thrope who might try to invade my home. I’d warded the place against werewolves, werecats, nāgas, lizard men, draconian shifters, and yes, even werebears. Finnegas had told me there was an easier way to do it, but he’d been too stoned to show me. So, I’d gone about it the hard way and tried to be as thorough as possible.
But from the looks of it, Cade’s magic wasn’t covered by my wards.
I guess berserkers really are a breed apart from werebears. Who knew?
Despite the apparent differences in how his magic worked, Cade Valison’s shifted form looked just like any other werebear I’d seen. He was massively built—a good foot taller than me, and twice as broad. He was covered in fur from head to toe, with an elongated snout like a bear’s and a mouth filled with sharp, nasty-looking teeth. But his limbs all articulated the same way a human’s did, and he had paw-like hands with opposable thumbs.
Strangest of all, though, was the fact that he was wearing the same lamellar armor I’d seen him in earlier, along with loose woolen pants and a wide leather belt. I’d never seen a ’thrope in clothes before. He also had his hammer in one hand and a buckler in the other.
A shifter who wore armor and used magical weapons. Peachy. There was no way I was going to go toe-to-toe with this guy. Chances were good he’d get a lucky shot in with that hammer, beat me to a pulp, and then my other side would come out.
And that’d be bad news for everyone.
I needed to improvise.
He looked quite a bit fatter in this form—which was a very bear-like quality, I supposed. “So, Cade, fancy seeing you here. Did you just decide to stop by for dinner? Because, dude, from the looks of it, you really need to lay off the beer and pizza.”
His gravelly voice bellowed at me from across the parking lot as he approached. “You should never have killed the witch. Now that she’s dead, I am released from her magic.” He flexed his paw-hands and his upper lip curled into a snarl. “And now I will have my revenge!”
“Seriously, man? ‘Now I will have my revenge?’ You’ve been watching too many Saturday morning cartoons.” I did a little jig with my elbows out to the sides and imitated his voice. “Arrghh! I will have my revenge! Then Skeletor will give me a seat at the council table once more! Arrghh!”
Cade roared, and even from several yards away I could smell his breath. It reeked like raw meat and rotten strawberries, which was weird. But I supposed that if I’d been a berserker werebear, I’d have gone Paleo too.
“Mock me if you must, mortal. It’ll only make your defeat that much sweeter.”
I rolled my eyes. I needed this guy to chase me if I was going to put my plan into action. How hard could it be to get a berserker angry?
“Oh, just shut up and go berserk already. Or are you chicken?” I made chicken noises and flapped my elbows at my sides, strutting and pecking like a rooster.
“I… am… not… craven!” he roared.
Yep, that did it. Cade charged me, somehow bounding on all fours while still hanging onto his hammer. And all those stories you hear about how deceptively fast bears are, and how you can’t outrun them so don’t even try? Yeah, that was all pretty much true. I barely dove out of the way as he came at me, and caught a swipe of his claws across my back for my troubles.
I rolled up into a crouch and burst into a sprint, heading for the stacks of junk cars in the yard. I hoped I could lose him there, and then draw him into a trap. As I fled, warm, sticky blood ran from the wounds on my upper back. I tested my range of motion on the move, and while the wounds bled freely, they appeared to be superficial.
I glanced back to see where Cade was and wished I hadn’t. Due to his bulk, he wasn’t the most graceful creature—but he was hellaciously quick in the straightaway.
So, I took every twist, turn, and corner I could to lose him in the maze that was my uncle’s junkyard. Where I could make hairpin turns and switch direction quickly, Cade slid around corners, crashing into old cars and piles of junk. The more I evaded him, the angrier he got.
I rounded one last corner and sprinted toward a fifteen-foot wall of cars just ahead. I looked for an o
pening in the wall and spotted a window in the cab of a sedan that wasn’t completely flattened. The car had once been someone’s track toy, and it still had a roll cage welded into the cab.
Perfect.
I dove through the window. Thankfully, the rest of the interior had been stripped down to bare metal to reduce weight and for safety reasons. That left plenty of room for me to climb through. I scrambled out the other side, just as Cade crashed into the door.
I paused for a second as I scrambled free, just to make sure the berserker couldn’t fit through the narrow gap. He couldn’t, but he was doing his damnedest and the stack was swaying like crazy. I decided to avoid getting crushed and took off toward my goal, knowing I’d only have a minute or so to prepare before Cade found a way around.
A few seconds later, I turned the corner around the stacks and saw what I needed. The crusher and crane. I climbed into the crane’s cab, firing it up and positioning a junked, stripped car several yards above the crusher. I cast a quick spell on the controls, hoping I got it right. Otherwise, my plan would fail and I’d be screwed.
I jumped out of the crane’s cab and ran to the baler crusher, firing it up so the hydraulics would be primed and ready to go. The baler crusher was the coolest piece of equipment in the yard. It could flatten a minivan and then crush it into a twenty-four-inch cube in under two minutes. And once the lid dropped on that bad boy, one hundred and fifty tons of downward force ensured that nothing was getting out of that thing.
Once I had everything in place, I stood atop the baler and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, I realized that Cade had gotten lost in the yard. In fact, I could hear him roaring and crashing into things in the distance. I resorted to calling for him, yelling taunts and insults every few seconds to allow him to home in on my voice.
A minute or so later, the fool came barreling into the crushing area of the yard. I stood balanced on top of the crusher, right on the far edge as I yelled at him one last time.
“Finally found me? Took you long enough. Alright, Smokey, let’s end this. Come at me, bro!”
Sure enough, he took the bait. The berserker may have been strong and fast, but lucky for me he was also blinded by rage. He raced across the yard toward me, accelerating with every bounding step.
This was going to be close.
Just as I expected, he neared the crusher and took a running leap at me, intending to either tackle me off the edge or hammer me into a pulp. I wasn’t sure which, and I didn’t care. As soon as he was airborne I triggered my spell, releasing the crane and the stripped down car chassis it held suspended over the crusher.
But I was just a tad too slow in triggering the spell. While the car caught Cade as it fell, it only caught the back half of him. He gave me a glancing blow to the chest with his hammer as the car crushed his legs. I fell off the crusher with the wind knocked out of me, feeling like Cade had broken a rib or two. I landed in the dirt of the yard, flat on my back, trying to work air back into my lungs. I felt as though I had a car crushing me as well.
I laid there, stunned, until I felt a breeze caress my face. A woman’s voice filled my ear.
C’mon, Colin. Get up. Get up!
Jesse’s voice. I began to stir as a roar came from inside the crusher.
I heard metal shifting and scraping upon itself. A clawed, furred hand appeared on the edge of the crusher wall. The berserker may have been badly injured, but he was pulling himself free. Now that his shifter magic wasn’t being suppressed, he’d heal quickly—and I’d have no way to stop him.
I rolled over and came up on my knees, coughing and wheezing as I pulled air into my chest one mouthful at a time. I half-stumbled and half-crawled to the controls, and hit the switch just as Cade’s other arm popped over the side of the crusher, holding his hammer.
The lid dropped on the contents of the baler, slicing the berserker’s left hand off at the wrist, and his right arm at the elbow. Both fell to the ground next to the crusher, along with the Norseman’s war hammer.
There was another, muffled roar from inside the crusher, followed by a scream. As the lid dropped farther and the machinery did its work, the screams died away. Soon, all I could hear were the sounds of hydraulics, two tons of metal, and a berserker being crushed into a two-foot cube.
I laid on the ground, staring up at the night sky. I wondered what I was going to do with the parts that hadn’t been pulverized in the machine.
A pale, dirty, bearded face appeared above me. “Good thinking, using the machinery like that. That berserker would’ve torn you to pieces, for sure. Didn’t think you still had it in you.”
I felt my chest and ribcage to see if I had any broken ribs. I didn’t, but I was going to be hurting in the morning. I sat up and leaned against the crusher, taking a moment before I answered. Finnegas was dressed in an old pair of gray sweats, a wife beater, and not much else. He swayed back and forth in the moonlight and took a swig from a liquor bottle as he watched me wheeze and bleed.
“Good to see you too, old man. Were you watching the whole time?”
“Not until the damned thing crashed into the car I was sleeping in and woke me up.”
I rubbed my chest and sighed. “And it didn’t occur to you that I might have needed an assist?”
He belched and scratched his belly with grubby fingernails. “Nah, you seemed to have it under control.” Finnegas looked at the severed limbs on the ground. “Tell you what—if you can spare a few bucks, I’ll help you clean this whole mess up. It’ll be like it never happened.”
I let my head drop back to rest against the crusher and closed my eyes. “You’ll do it anyway, because you owe me, Finn. Then I’ll buy you some breakfast and a couple cartons of smokes.” I cracked open an eye to gauge his response. “Deal?”
His face was a mask of pain, disguised by a scowl. The old man hung his head and nodded slowly. “You’re right, I do owe you. Let’s get this place cleaned up.”
He offered me a hand and I took it, staggering to my feet with his help.
“And, Finn?”
“What?”
“You’re not pawning the hammer.”
17
I awoke late the next morning, well after the yard had opened for business. Finnegas, true to his word, had somehow cleaned up all signs of the previous night’s battles. He’d also helped me dress my wounds. Even after several hours of rest, I felt like I’d wrestled a bear—and lost. Which may as well have been the case.
I rolled over and sat up, wincing at the pain in my ribs. My phone blinked with unread messages.
-Heard you now have a lead on our elusive friend. L wishes to speak to you immediately.-
Guess that meant I was headed to the coffee shop this morning. I figured if Luther wanted to see me “immediately,” it meant he’d be there. Some older vamps didn’t have to sleep during the day. Luther was known to be a daytime vamp, and was usually at his place of business pulling espressos for customers until noon or so. Then he’d take a break—a vampire had to keep up appearances—and be back at it after sundown.
I threw on a pair of jeans, moving gingerly. Bruised ribs sucked, but it was a common injury, so I was used to it. I slapped some arnica tonic and Chinese dit da jow liniment on the areas I could reach. Then I wrapped my chest with an ACE bandage and headed out the door.
When I got to the coffee shop, I made sure to case the place before I headed inside. Now that I’d screwed with two Circle teams, chances were good they’d be looking for revenge. Sooner made more sense than later, but you never could tell with those jackasses. The coast was clear, so I hopped off my scooter and snuck in the back entrance.
Luther spotted me right away as I walked in. He gave me a quick look of acknowledgment before tending to the customers in line. As he was filling orders, he slapped a frozen mochaccino and a couple of croissants on the counter and called out my name.
“On the house,” he said with a wink. Yeah, Luther was turning out to be alright.
; I headed to a table in the back and sat down, and spent the next several minutes enjoying the free grub and coffee while I did some people-watching. It amused me to no end that the humans who came in had no idea they were standing just a few feet away from an apex predator—and one that other predators feared. It was kind of like watching a group of tourists walk by the lion’s cage at the zoo, none of them knowing that the door to the cage was open, just out of their line of sight.
One of the baristas took over for the vamp, and instead of calling me back to his office, he sat down at my table.
“How do you like the coffee?” he asked.
“It’s good. Hell of a lot better than Mickey D’s, that’s for sure.”
He smiled without showing much teeth—most vamps only showed their teeth when they meant to scare someone, or kill them—and leaned an elbow on the table.
“I made it with my special cold brew. No bitterness to the coffee that way, so you don’t have to sweeten the drink as much. Makes for a lot smoother experience, and you can still detect the flavor notes, even in a cold beverage.”
I held the cup up and examined it. “I’m honestly not that much of a connoisseur, but I can tell you that it’s damned good coffee.”
He chuckled. “Hang around here long enough, and you’ll learn. Now, regarding that old friend of ours. Did you find out where he was staying?”
“Downtown. That’s if the information was correct.”
“Hmm. Yes, I heard there were complications. We agreed on just one, so adjustments will need to be made at week’s end.”
I took that to mean I’d be getting paid a bonus for taking out the soucouyant. It almost made the busted ribs worth it.
“Luther, there’s one thing you should know.” He studied me without twitching an eyelash. “This… old friend. He looks quite young for his age. Astonishingly so, if I’m not mistaken.”
“I see.” Luther stared out the window, as if contemplating a difficult problem. Or maybe, he was speaking to another vampire telepathically—who knew? “Then I will accompany you on your visit. This will not affect the terms of our original arrangement, of course.”
