by Lee Roland
Darrow greeted me. “Come on. Get a tray.” He led me away to the buffet line, where I was able to fill my plate with what would probably be considered, for a normal person, an enormous amount of food. Bacon, sausage, eggs, and good Southern grits topped with gobs of butter, and I would consume it all. I added a couple of muffins and three sweet rolls. Magic depleted my body and I had to refuel. I grinned at the serving staff behind the buffet as they stared.
“I see you can still eat like a pig and not gain weight,” Darrow said.
“You bet. Nice gourmet setup you have here, Darrow.” I elbowed him. “Don’t you miss boiled goat?”
Darrow chuckled. “No. Occasionally have a yen for fried monkey, though.”
Our overseas employers had fed us well, though some of the food was unusual. Between jobs and in certain critical situations we’d eaten some pretty gross stuff. It was a cultural thing, too. We often ingested unknown rations offered in friendship. I’d discovered that food is food and if you put enough ulcer-inducing spice on it and swallowed quickly, it usually stayed down. There’d been hard times when we went hungry.
I glanced around. Etienne was gone, apparently leaving me in Darrow’s care. Darrow led me to a table where Rocky and Salvatore, a couple of old companions, waited. They’d been with Darrow long before I joined him. They had to hug me and hold me tight for a minute. They also laughed and poked fun at me for a while, and told me how boring things were after I left.
“You gonna work with us?” Salvatore asked. Salvatore was a good man and a good friend, but age was streaking his hair with gray. He’d led a hard life. It was time for him to retire. Past time, actually. I knew he had money because it was he who taught me about numbered bank accounts in the islands where I had amassed my comfortable retirement fund. The bitter truth was that the troop was his family. As with almost all of them, he had no one else. Men and women with families didn’t usually live the lives of guards in the war-torn areas of the world. If he quit, he would wither away. Which was one of a long list of reasons I quit when I did. The life I was living then was one of adrenaline highs and numbing fear . . . followed by more adrenaline. I’m not an oracle, but I could see the future and it went to hell. I’d had one friend too many die a bloody death in my arms.
I reach over and patted his hand. “Me work here? No, at least not now. Although it seems like a pretty cushy job.”
“It’s a job,” Rocky said in a soft voice. Like Darrow he was dark, thin, and wiry. “Pretty much same as always. Nothing to do but train. Waiting for the next time . . . Sometimes . . .” His voice trailed off as if he was unsure what to say. Rambling and vague, not like Rocky at all.
Darrow glanced around.
“Boss man standing over your shoulder?” I asked. “You worried?”
Darrow shrugged. “He’s okay. Had worse. Pay is good. I get the feeling something may be coming down soon, though. Maybe I spent too much time with you.”
“Maybe.” I had a reputation for sometimes being prescient and knowing when something bad was pending. When I thought about it, that feeling had been the norm since I came into the Barrows.
I had to ask. “Is Etienne the same one that lifted our cargo and kicked our asses out of that town in Nigeria?”
“He is. He doesn’t know for sure about Nigeria, but he’d heard of us. We had a good rep. You know that. My contacts met his, he was hiring. The three of us came. The others wanted something else.” Darrow didn’t look at me. “Are you okay with him?”
I knew his concern. “For now. It’s cool. Your boss isn’t my enemy—yet. And thanks for taking care of me last night.”
“You want to tell me what happened?”
“Not today. But we need a good sit-down and talk.”
“Will you explain some things to me?”
“Yeah. I will. You have to promise to believe me, though.”
“Oh, Nicky, I can assure you that I will believe.”
I laughed and concentrated on shoveling my food down. Then I went back for more.
After we finished, Darrow gave me a grand tour of the compound. It was a nice setup compared to some places we’d worked. Spread out in several warehouses in what used to be an industrial park were bedrooms, not barracks, an exercise and training room. There was absolutely nothing on the outside to show that the buildings were inhabited. The one place he did not show me was an armory. Etienne carried a gun, but no one else did.
Like the ruins to the south, Etienne’s compound was surrounded by other warehouses, some on the verge of collapse. It allowed a great deal of room to expand, should redevelopment ever reach this deep in the Barrows. I wondered exactly how many men Etienne had here, but doubted I’d get an answer if I asked. And I hadn’t seen my car.
I had Darrow show me back to the building where Etienne kept the apartment. I needed my cell phone to call Karen—and I needed my backpack should I choose to leave. He hadn’t locked the apartment door at least.
I’ll admit he confused me. He hated witches, but stood for me against one in a particularly nasty challenge last night. I had to wonder why. I sort of liked him, but I’d had a tendency to like rough men in the past. Sometimes with disastrous results.
Since I was almost unconscious last night and focused on other things earlier, I took the opportunity to look around. A single living room and a kitchen divided by a bar with stools. Modern furniture, browns and blues, with clean lines, but absolutely no personal touches like photos or a stack of unopened mail. The small kitchen looked like nobody ever cooked there, which wasn’t surprising since he provided three good solid meals in another warehouse. The bedroom I’d slept in last night was the same. Spare and masculine, with no hint of the man who lived there. And there was no cell phone service.
I knew a few tricks, though. I could use the magic to find service and plug in. Those calls couldn’t be traced. I mentally patted myself on the back again for learning that little trick. Minor magic, in which I excelled—most of the time. I made my call.
“Hello, super secretary, how goes it?”
Karen sighed, loud and long. “The good news, Harold is apparently lost in a sand trap. Haven’t seen him in a while. MacLellen is gaining speed—finally—and I threw your plants in the trash. The bad news is that I’m turning away new clients and the accountant is grumbling about a bottom line, whatever that is.”
“What about the information I asked for?”
“That’s not good, either. Duivel, Missouri, apparently doesn’t exist, never existed, or existed and went extinct. However, one of the business databases has an entry for a place called the Archangel in Duivel. I haven’t figured that one out yet. It’s listed under exercise studios of all things. Nothing on Bastinados except a soccer team in South America. When I type in Abigail and Duivel, I get all sorts of sites that are wacko on witchcraft. You’re not into that, are you?”
Only since the day I was born. “No, Karen, I’m not into witchcraft. What about Etienne? Africa? Asia?”
“I hope you are not into that, either. That is one badass dude. Chat sites say he’s stolen just about everything imaginable. He’s the essential antihero. Murder, armed assault, you name it. Everyone is looking for him. Not bad-looking guy, though. Saw a picture on the Internet. Lots of rewards out there. If you see him, call the police. Or the FBI. Or the CIA. Call Interpol. Mega rewards. You’ll get rich.”
Nothing new there. Last night’s experience had enlightened me. “Hey, do you think you can find a way to pay my utilities at the condo?”
“Sure. Honestly, honey, when are you coming back? I’m worried about you. Miss you.”
“I don’t know, but I miss you, too. Listen, this is important. You can expect a visit from the police soon. Maybe FBI. Tell them the truth, don’t lie. I’m in Duivel visiting a friend. You don’t know her name. They’ll have all your computer searches so you can’t hide anything.”
Karen gasped. “Are you in trouble?”
“No. At least not yet. I can
take care of things. I’ll call you again as soon as I can. Everything will be okay.” I spoke with a confidence I didn’t have.
I hung up the phone.
The police would see the searches for Etienne, too. Maybe his hideout down in the Barrows would hold.
I turned at a slight sound to find Etienne standing in the doorway.
Chapter 15
Etienne leaned against the doorjamb. His expression was one of extreme curiosity. His dark eyes drew me as they had the first day I’d met him. A gift for me, as the Mother said. As gifts go, I could do worse.
“Tell me, witch, how’d you get that cell to work? There’s no service in the Barrows except along River Street and the docks. We had to run landlines ourselves to get it in the compound.”
I shrugged and turned the phone in my hands. “Magic.”
“You know, if you wanted to know about me, you could ask.” He grinned as if he found it amusing I would be that interested.
“And you would tell me?”
“Maybe. Are you looking for something specific?”
“No. You’re a stranger I seem to be spending a lot of time with.” I looked into his eyes and spoke the truth. “You’re a dangerous stranger. That’s obvious. But Darrow wouldn’t work for you if you were into pure evil.”
Etienne came to sit beside me. Not super close, but close enough I was majorly aware of him. I think my body temperature actually rose a few degrees. My gift. Oh, yeah.
“You need to define pure evil.” He spoke in a light voice, still amused at me and my questions.
“Define?” How did I do that? I’d seen so much. “I met an old woman in Sudan. She said, They have the blood of innocents on their hands. Raiders had come in the night. We helped her bury her grandchildren. That kind of evil. You’ve walked the same paths in the same places that I have. You know what I mean.”
Etienne looked straight into my eyes. “By that definition, slaughtering children, I am not evil. I have killed men. Some because they attacked me and some simply because they opposed me. I’ve procured some very valuable goods in my time. By almost any definition I am not a good man.”
No, he was not a good man. And yet, last night, he had stood between me and what seemed to be a madwoman. By all the tenets of the Mother and her earth witches, I should have been safer with Laudine than him.
Etienne leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared straight at me. “I don’t like witches. But I’m truly sorry I caused you trouble. You need to go to the police and say I kidnapped you, forced you to come with me. They’ll search River Street and the docks, but they won’t likely come here. Then you should leave town.”
I shook my head. “I’m not leaving without Marisol. Last night was partly my fault. The only reason they noticed you was because you took me to Abigail. As for witches, I guess you have your reasons. Some of us are evil. I won’t deny that.”
I liked the feeling of him sitting next to me, talking about the Barrows, but I had a mission. I needed to be on my way. “What are the odds of me talking to this demon of yours?”
“Not good. Why would you want that?”
“Laudine says he killed Marisol.”
Etienne froze. “And if he did?”
“I’ll do my best to destroy him.”
“You have no concept of what you’re proposing.”
“I’ll build a hellfire under him so hot there won’t even be ash left.” I didn’t elaborate on a relatively empty threat. I knew Marisol was alive. Maybe weak, but alive. My tenacious, bulldog nature would force me to tear at all possibilities.
Etienne stood. “Let’s go see a few people I know. We’ll ask about your sister. The faster you find her, the faster you’ll leave. We’ll take my car.”
“What, you don’t like my grandmother’s tank? Just because it doesn’t have air-conditioning and can’t pass a gas station . . .” I punched him in the arm. Ouch. A really hard arm. As long as he was willing to take me where I wanted to go, I’d play the game.
When we walked outside, I could see the day had moved from early to late morning. The sky, a bright blue cap over the world, had no hint of clouds. Last night’s rain, having fulfilled its irrigation duties, had moved on. I loved SF, but the gray days wore on me at times. I could become accustomed to this place—except for the crazy witches and so-called demons.
Herschel was waiting at the foot of the stairs.
“Did you get anything to eat, Hersch?” I’d have to hit a fast-food restaurant if he hadn’t. Unfortunately, I’d have to borrow money to do it. The cops still had my wallet.
“He’s eaten.” Etienne spoke in a terse, irritated voice. He glared at Herschel. “He went into the kitchen, stared at the cooks for a few minutes, and they immediately fed him. He apparently ate enough for ten men. Is he a witch, too? Is that possible?”
I glanced at Herschel, who was licking his balls with loud slurps. “To tell the truth, I’m not exactly sure what he is.”
“I believe that.”
Etienne had a new SUV outside. Obviously the SUV fairy had worked overtime to produce another one. Or maybe he had a whole warehouse full that I hadn’t seen. Herschel indicated he wanted to accompany us, so I let him into the backseat. Etienne stepped away when a man approached. He spoke quietly with him, then nodded. When we climbed in, he said, “You get to meet the demon after all. Someone obviously told him about you. Or maybe he saw. He walks the Barrows at night.” Etienne did not sound happy.
“What if I believe he killed Marisol? What if I try to kill him?”
“I’ll be expected to throw myself in front of him.”
“Because you’re immune to magic.”
“Something like that.”
“And if I try to shoot—”
He snatched my arm near the wrist and his fingers bit to the bone. “This isn’t a joke.”
He released me. Dull pain spread from my wrist to my elbow. I would probably bruise. His instantaneous anger stunned me into silence.
Etienne stared out the window. His hands lay in his lap, but they’d clenched into fists. Slowly, a few fingers at a time, he let them relax.
“Nyx, Aiakós is the premier predator in the Barrows. I can guarantee that you have never met one like him. He talks about being vulnerable to earth magic, but no one knows exactly how vulnerable. I watched Madeline empty an entire magazine of large-caliber bronze bullets into his gut one night. It barely slowed him. He almost tore her apart. I was wounded, couldn’t move. Only Michael saved her.”
He slowly reached and grasped my arm again. Gently now, but it still hurt. He slid his fingers down to take my hand. “You need to be afraid of him, Nyx. If you’ve never been afraid of anyone or anything in your life, fear Aiakós.”
He released me and started the engine.
What did I do about this confusing man? Etienne seemed drawn to me, liked me, but I was a witch, to the very depths of my soul. He hated witches. He’d protected me and now jumped to instant violence to make a point. He hurt me, then half-ass apologized.
Though the road was clear, the buildings around it soon went back to what I’d seen previously. Abandoned apartments and storefronts lined the street. Crowded together, gloomy and forsaken, none showed signs of habitation. Not even a heavy winter snow would soften these abandoned boxes.
From what I’d seen so far, the inhabited Barrows appeared to be a patchwork of fiefdoms. Etienne had his military, the docks still belonged to the city, River Street was a strip of blighted commerce, and the Archangel made a stunning example of a well-guarded mansion in a crime-ridden ghetto.
“Where do Dervick and his Bastinados hang out?” I asked.
“To the south. You really should avoid them. We don’t know much about them.”
“The ones I saw didn’t look all that dangerous. They looked . . . frightened.”
“And that’s what makes them dangerous. Fifty or so armed men. Once there were several hundred. Once they were the scourge of the city. They’re afra
id. Of what?”
I could see how Dervick, with his ability to manipulate fire, could frighten them, at least initially. I knew the concept of a team with a leader, though. Dervick wasn’t—or he didn’t seem like—a true leader. He seemed a simple little fire starter, with the attitude of a man who had always had to look up at the other men around him. I doubted he could hold a group of gang members together forever.
Etienne drove into a plaza surrounded by taller buildings, but none higher than four stories. The streets coming into the place met at odd angles and a few cars were parked at the curb. The buildings here did show evidence of patchwork repair and habitation, though nothing seemed shiny and new. Windows had glass and all buildings had doors, a rare thing on the streets we passed earlier.
As soon as Etienne parked, I climbed out. Something boiled in the plaza’s exact center. Invisible, but I could feel it, though it remained invisible. The power emanating in colossal waves from the thing caused a chill deep in my guts. The warm summer day fled and left me standing in stunning cold.
“What is it?” I whispered to Etienne, who had come to stand beside me.
“What is what?”
Could he not see? I stood shivering, my shoulders hunched, arms crossed protectively over my chest. Even the aftermath of my spectacular, fiery oops last night paled beside what I felt just then.
Etienne’s arm curved around my shoulders. At that moment, I did feel oddly fragile. I thought I would shatter if I should trip and fall.
A pickup truck entered the plaza. It drove straight toward the spiral of energy and right on through it as if it were not there. I’d expected that much power would have swallowed it.
“Is this the Zombie Zone?” I asked. “Abigail said . . .”
“Yes. That’s it.” He frowned. “You can see something?”
I shook my head. “Mostly I feel it.”
“How does it feel?”
“It’s cold. Bitter cold. It’s an aberration of time and space. It does not belong here in the Earth Mother’s world.”
I remembered Laudine’s words. “The heart of evil, the Zombie Zone. That’s where the demon hides. A door between worlds.”
