Soren was on the verge of thinking he’d won when he noticed that Keevan was grinning fiercely at him. Soren couldn’t tell why until he noticed the creature was holding something small and round in his left hand. Keevan opened his palm and showed Soren a grenade. Somehow he’d managed to pull the pin.
“You insane little fuck,” Soren said.
The leprechaun let it roll out of his hand and onto the rooftop. Soren was so distracted that he didn’t feel Keevan’s blow as the leprechaun kicked out from underneath him, rolled a few feet and then teleported away.
For the second time in two minutes, Soren knew he was a dead man. But he grabbed the grenade anyway and prayed it wouldn’t go off yet, giving him an extra couple seconds. He lobbed it over the side of the building. He had time to watch it fall out of sight before he heard an explosion and the building rocked underneath him. There was the loud sound of shattered glass. A moment later, smoke began rising from the side of the building and fire alarms started blaring.
The explosion was bound to bring the police and the Secret Service in a hurry. Almost immediately, Soren heard sirens, and they were very close.
He looked up to see Keevan standing near the rooftop exit, aiming his assault rifle in Soren’s direction. But Lochlan, who Soren had lost track of during the fight with Keevan, appeared in the doorway and pulled his brother inside. Before they disappeared, Lochlan shouted at him.
“This inna over, do ya hear me?”
They were gone a moment later and Soren was left alone on the rooftop with the sound of sirens getting closer.
Soren picked himself up off the ground and sprinted for the exit. He scooped up his gun just before entering the building and ran into the stairwell. The sound of the fire alarm was overwhelming, a loud klaxon blaring in his ears and overriding most of his other senses.
The only thing he concentrated on was getting down the steps as fast as possible. He took the steps three at a time, holding his hand to the railing in an effort to ensure he didn’t fall and kill himself in the process. He kept waiting to collide with the leprechauns, but they had vanished, possibly helped by their teleportation abilities.
As he reached the third floor, he heard shouting on the steps below him and abruptly stopped.
“What the fuck?” said someone, who Soren presumed was a cop or fireman. “Did you see those guys? They just appeared out of nowhere.”
Soren ducked into an entrance to the third floor and found himself in a darkened hallway. The only light was coming from the fire alarms, which were pulsing in bright flashes that simultaneously made it easier to see and made him feel like he was trapped in the world’s worst disco.
He couldn’t be caught. With his police record, nobody would ever believe that he was an innocent bystander. At best he would be held in jail facing a long trial for exploding a grenade near the White House. At worst, he could find himself in Guantanamo Bay as a terrorist suspect and vanish altogether.
But he had no idea where to go. He blindly found his way down a hallway, turning left when he came to a dead end. But that led to a locked door. He found his way back and went to the right this time until he found a block of four elevators. Since taking them was out of the question, he kept walking down the hallway. There, he found another corridor to the right with a brightly lit exit sign. He guessed it was another stairwell.
Soren opened the door to see two firemen running up the steps in front of him.
“There are people in the building?” one of them asked when he saw Soren. “Are there more of you?”
Soren didn’t bother to respond, instead darting right past them and fleeing down the stairway. Soren was surprised that the firefighters arrived before the police, but maybe they assumed the grenade was some kind of gas or electrical explosion. There was little reason to expect criminal activity in this location.
He didn’t wait to find out but made his way to the bottom of the steps as he heard the firefighters shouting above him. He hit the exit door, flinging it open and emerging onto the street at a full run. It wouldn’t take long for the firefighters to get the word out about him or the leprechauns, and his only chance was to move fast.
Fortunately for him, the fire exit emptied onto the back of the building, and the fire trucks must have been at the front. On the other hand, a police cruiser came peeling around the corner, its siren on and lights flashing.
Soren ran across the street and into an alley, hearing the cruiser tear down the road behind him. He climbed up a small fence and jumped over it, running out into another deserted street. Since it was the business district, there were no shops open or people to mingle with. That had seemed ideal when he was trying to conduct a client meeting, but was a disadvantage now. Soren was easy to spot and unless he went underground soon, the police were going to catch him.
He heard another car roar toward him and knew he would never get away in time. He turned to face what he assumed was a police cruiser but instead was a black compact car. He worried at first it was Lochlan and Keevan, but the car pulled up in front of him and the driver opened the passenger door.
“Get in, Soren!” the driver said, and Soren didn’t wait to see who it was.
He jumped into the car and slammed the door behind him. He expected them to hit the gas and drive away as fast as possible, but instead the driver appeared to be moving well under the speed limit.
“What the hell are you doing?” Soren asked.
He’d been so focused on looking for signs of pursuit that he only then took a good look at the driver. He was young and skinny, with red hair and freckles all over his face. Soren recognized him—Glen, the nephew of Terry Jacobsen, a well-known supernatural investigator and Soren’s mentor.
“Relax,” Glen said. When he got to the end of the street, he turned right, heading back toward the building from which Soren had just escaped. “I know what I’m doing.”
“No you don’t,” Soren said. “We’re going to get caught.”
The light in the car was dim, but Soren could still see Glen roll his eyes.
Glen drove the car two blocks and turned right again, heading directly toward the front of the building Soren had been fleeing. The street was now home to what looked like a fleet of fire trucks and police cars crowded along it.
As they neared, a cruiser came directly toward them, its lights on. Glen pulled over to a careful stop.
“Great plan, genius,” Soren said. “Now we’re both fucked.”
“Watch and learn, Chase,” Glen replied.
Glen rolled down his window as two cops came running up, shining a flashlight into Glen’s face. Before they could say anything, Glen began talking.
“Hey, are you guys looking for two small guys in fancy suits? I nearly hit them with my car a few streets up and one of them looked like he had a gun.”
The cops exchanged a look.
“Where were they?” one asked.
Glen gave him a cross street and saw one lean into his radio and report it back. Glen then leaned around to stare at the building, which had smoke pouring out of it near the top.
“What the hell happened here, guys?” he asked. “Something blow up?”
“This is an active investigation,” the cop replied. “We’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
Glen looked disappointed and then shrugged.
“Okay, officer,” he said.
He waved and rolled up the window, backing the car up slowly and then turning it around. They drove off at a snail’s pace, heading down 13th street toward the National Mall.
“First rule of evading police: don’t make it look like you’re trying to evade police,” Glen said.
Soren looked behind them to see if anyone was following them, but there were no cop cars giving chase. They were letting them get away.
“If I’d headed the other way at top speed, they would have caught up and questioned us,” Glen said. “But instead I showed up with valuable information and the location of two of their su
spects. When in doubt, head right toward them. It’s the last thing they’d suspect.”
Soren frowned.
“You’re just lucky those cops were dumb,” Soren said. “I’ve known plenty that would have grilled us for a couple of hours before letting us go.”
“They’re looking for two dwarfs and one white male on foot, not two white males in a car calmly driving around,” Glen replied. “We didn’t fit the profile. And you’re welcome, by the way. I’ll accept your apology for doubting me any time now.”
Soren opened his mouth to ask how he knew what the police were looking for, but he spotted the scanner underneath the radio. Glen had been listening in. Soren clued in with sudden understanding.
“You were on that roof,” he said.
“Excuusse me, misters, but did you seeee a bathroom anywhere?” Glen said, sounding very drunk. “I did some acting in college. Pretty good, right?”
Soren scowled.
“You left me to die up there!” he said.
“I saved your ass, you mean,” Glen replied, looking defensive.
“I had it under control until you came along,” Soren said, even though he knew that wasn’t true.
For some reason he couldn’t explain, Glen annoyed him. They’d only met once, but Soren had taken an instant dislike to Terry’s rude and surly nephew. He knew he should feel grateful that Glen had distracted Lochlan and Keevan, but instead he was just irritated.
“Didn’t look like you had it under control,” Glen said.
“And you still left me alone,” Soren said.
“The little guy had a machine gun! I figured my job was to distract him, not become target practice. I tried to keep him busy for a bit, but once the explosion went off, it was time to make like a tree and leave.”
Glen turned right on Constitution Avenue and started to drive out of the city. Soren looked out the window to see the Washington Monument lit up like a beacon in the dark.
He chewed on his lip before he spoke again.
“What the hell were you doing up there anyway?” he asked.
“It was no problem, Soren, really,” Glen said, completely ignoring the question. “I was just happy to help. There’s no need to fawn over me. Please stop or I’ll blush.”
“Were you following me?” Soren asked.
“Are you always this much of an asshole or is it just around me?” Glen asked.
“Just you,” Soren said. “I’m going to ask this again and then I’m going to get angry. Were you following me?”
“You’re the paranormal investigator,” Glen replied. “Use your deduction skills and figure it out.”
Soren thought it over for a moment.
“Terry has you spying on me,” he said. “I’m under surveillance.”
Glen looked over at him and rolled his eyes again.
“Paranoid much?” Glen sighed dramatically. “Here’s the deal. Terry asked me to come over to see you and when I pulled up to your apartment, I saw you walking out. It was late and I wanted to know where you were going. I was hoping to find out you had a girlfriend or maybe a thing for line-dancing or karaoke. When you drove downtown, I just kept following you. I don’t know why, actually. I’ll admit I’m a little bored working for Terry and I wanted to know what you were doing.”
Soren put his head in his hands. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more—the fact that Glen had followed him without his knowledge or that he’d just remembered his car was parked at an all-night garage several blocks away.
“My car,” Soren said.
“We’ll come back and get it tomorrow,” Glen said. “If we showed up again, it might be suspicious.”
It was reasonable advice, but Soren still felt annoyed by it. He didn’t want to wait until tomorrow or accept a ride back home from Glen. He wanted to just get the hell away.
“So how did you know I was in trouble?”
“I didn’t,” Glen said. “I decided to see if I could find out what you were up to. But the building was empty. I was going to leave except when I was in the stairwell, I heard the door slam to the roof. I went up there and saw you were in trouble. I figured you could use a distraction. Were those two guys what I think they were? Were they actually leprechauns?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do, steal their pot of gold?” Glen asked.
“Remember that case I was on last month? The one where I consulted with your uncle?”
Glen nodded. “You were trying to help a kid, right?” he asked. “A shade was after him.”
“Yes. It’s an aftereffect from that,” Soren said. “The boy I was protecting—the leprechauns want him.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know and don’t care,” Soren said. “I’m not giving him up.”
To his credit, Glen didn’t protest or ask why, suggesting he understood.
“Anyway, after one of the leprechauns chased me, I ran out of there. I got back to the car and turned on the scanner,” Glen said. “They spotted you in the stairwell heading out the back exit so I figured I might be able to find you first.”
Soren sat quietly a moment.
“Thanks,” he said simply.
“There you go!” Glen said. “Was that so hard?”
“Don’t make me regret it,” Soren replied.
They drove out of the city and on to Route 66 heading toward Loudoun County.
“You taking me home?” Soren asked.
“Not unless you’re really tired,” Glen said. “Terry’s still up and waiting for us.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Soren asked. “We can get back my car and then head back to see him.”
Soren was curious what Terry wanted. As far as he could remember Soren had always sought out the older man for help, never the other way around. But Soren was wary of starting a case in the middle of the night after he’d nearly been blown up by psychotic leprechauns. Besides, he had to do some research on them so he could be better prepared the next time they showed up.
“No, it can’t,” Glen replied. “There’s a friend of mine in danger. That’s another reason I decided to follow you. Terry and I really need your help—and we’re already running out of time.”
Chapter Three
Glen let Soren walk into the Leesburg Science Society office ahead of him.
He instinctively disliked the idea of Soren being behind him. There was something about the guy he found unnerving. Part of it might have been his history. Glen had spent a long time lingering over Soren’s case file, puzzling over what to make of it. Whenever he asked Terry more about Soren, the older man smiled enigmatically and refused to respond. He felt like he was looking at a riddle to which Terry knew the answer but wouldn’t share. It was frustrating and more than a little worrying.
After all, Terry was making him work with a guy who had been accused of murdering three people nearly eight years earlier. Although Soren was ultimately freed due to a lack of evidence, the police had no other suspects and it looked to the casual observer like he’d done it.
Yet here he was, strolling into Terry’s office with alarming familiarity. Terry somehow had ended up tutoring Soren when he’d reinvented himself as a paranormal investigator. Glen hadn’t been around then, but if he had, he would have strongly objected.
And it wasn’t just Soren’s sordid past that worried Glen. It was the sunglasses. Soren Chase was on the tall side, a little over six feet, with brown hair. He was thin, but looked athletic and muscular. Still, he wouldn’t have been physically intimidating except for the glasses. Soren wore expensive-looking reflective sunglasses that made it impossible to see his eyes. Moreover, he seemed to wear them all the time—on the roof during the fight, on the drive back and even now as they entered Terry’s office. Glen didn’t know how the guy could even see, considering it was the middle of the night. But Glen found it creepy and unsettling. He thought that was probably the idea.
“Good, Soren, you made it,” Terry said as they walked through the
door.
Glen watched as the older man crossed the room and shook Soren’s hand. He appeared completely comfortable with Soren, which was odd only because Terry seemed to like so few people. As usual, Terry was overdressed, particularly for three in the morning, and wearing one of his trademark bow ties. Glen wondered why he persisted in wearing them. They made him look like a fuddy-duddy.
“What’s this about, Terry?” Soren asked. “And why can’t it wait?”
Glen shook his head. Any normal person would have stopped to recount what had just happened an hour earlier, and maybe give a little credit to the man who had saved his life. But Soren acted like it wasn’t important.
“Take a seat,” Terry said, pointing to a chair in front of his desk.
Glen glanced around the room. Except for the painting of Ball’s Bluff battlefield and a few other knick-knacks, the place was unadorned and messy. Terry had his “ghost-hunting” equipment—not that he would ever use that term—along the far wall, but Glen knew it was hopelessly out of date. The video camera used analog tapes, not digital, something Glen found hard to believe. Terry never seemed to lack for money, yet he was notoriously cheap. If something still worked, he’d keep using it, even if better, faster equipment had been invented.
Both Soren and Terry sat down on opposite sides of the desk. Glen took his usual perch, sitting on the side of the desk. He knew Terry disliked it. That was half the reason he did it. The other half was the fact that there was nowhere else to sit.
“First off, I’m pleased to see Lochlan and Keevan did you no harm,” Terry said.
Glen turned and stared at him in shock. Glen had called to tell Terry about the leprechauns after he saved Soren, but he hadn’t said their names. He hadn’t even known them until Soren referred to them during the car ride back.
“You know them?” Soren asked, leaning forward in his chair.
“They are part of a syndicate of creatures that have banded together,” Terry replied. “They work for a very powerful being.”
“Can you tell me who it is?” Soren asked.
Carnival of Stone: A Novella (The Soren Chase Series) Page 2
