He looked up, confused. “Huh?”
“How is your spell going to track him?”
“Oh, sorry.” He blinked a couple of times. “You know how dogs sniff a piece of a convict’s clothes and then chase the scent?”
“Yes.”
“Well, this is the same idea, but without the clothes.” He then pointed at his shirt. “Before Fred knocked me out, he grabbed my shoulder. I guess for leverage. I don’t know, honestly. But that left a signature.”
I was slowly nodding. This could be quite useful for finding perps, assuming it was effective anyway. Actually, it was moments like this where I wanted to ask why we hadn’t been using these little tricks to our advantage since day one. Warren’s answer would have been “Nobody’s ever knocked me on the head before” or something like that, though, so I let it go.
As my resident wizard continued on with his pygmy-like chanting, I listened in on Griff and Serena.
“He’s definitely old power,” Griff said. “If you look…” He suddenly stopped speaking and then keeled over.
Serena and I rushed to sit him back up.
His eyes were rolled up into his head and he was lightly convulsing.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked. “Is he having a stroke?”
“Give me a minute, Ian,” Serena said calmly as her hands pulsed a very dim light.
Of all my agents, Serena was the most controlled. Her records showed that she was nearly as old as Griff, but just like him you’d never know it by looking at her. Anyone who didn’t know her actual age would have placed her to be in her early thirties. Vampires tended to age well, after all. Serena had been taken down a different path than others on my crew. Instead of merely enhancing her speed and agility, things that were already prevalent in vampires, she got a bonus of the ability to heal. According to her personnel file she’d spent many years working in the field of medicine. It was clear that she had a knack for helping people, but she was also deadly when needed. This dichotomy made for the perfect succubus roleplaying partner, too. She could hurt you and then heal you.
Ah, the memories.
“The necro left a virus,” she said as Griff’s eyes rolled back to normal. She then glanced up at me. “We’re dealing with something very new here, Ian.”
I glanced around at the work that Portman and his crew were doing.
“Ya think?”
“Not just the zombies,” she replied without inflection. “I’m talking about someone who is capable of weaving spells within spells.”
“What happened?” Griff said a moment later while rubbing his temples.
Serena pushed his hands down and continued her therapy.
“Shitfaced Fred gave you a virus,” I answered.
“Ah,” Griff replied, closing his eyes again. “That explains the underlying elements I sensed before blacking out. This isn’t good.”
Seriously, sometimes I had to wonder about my team. Nonchalantly saying things like, “this isn’t good” after being knocked to hell by an “underlying element” that was apparently code for “horrendously dangerous virus” was just irritating. Of course it wasn’t good. If it was good, we wouldn’t be out here trying to stop it.
I stood up as the rest of the crew came back.
Chuck moved to Griff’s side immediately as Serena explained the virus situation, which put all the mages on edge. Even Warren seemed shaky about the proposition. I guess that made sense, seeing that his skill lay in the realm of magic, too.
“Do these viruses affect everyone or just magic users?” Felicia asked.
It was a great question.
“Only magic users,” answered Griff.
“Phew,” I said, wiping my brow.
“Don’t forget that you can do magic, too, Ian,” Rachel noted. “Not very well, but you still have the ability.”
It was true that I could do magic. It was part of my amalgamiteness. But I tended to avoid it because I didn’t have quite the control needed to do anything useful. Now and then I’d open a bottle of beer with a little spell or I’d maybe inflate a low tire, but I preferred destroying bad guys the old fashioned way. By using metallic projectiles flying from my gun. Plus, I wasn’t anywhere near as adept with magic as my mages. My fireballs were about the size of pebbles. Imagine getting attacked by a single ember thrown at you every ten seconds and you’ll see why I elected to use Boomy over magic.
“I don’t suppose there’s any correlation between how much power you wield and how effective that virus is?”
“Probably not,” answered Griff as Chuck helped him back to his feet.
“Serena,” Rachel said, “is it affecting you?”
“No. My healing stems from a different kind of magic than you’re using. I feel the effects of the virus differently. It’s passing through a filter with me.”
That was good anyway. It was also good that Warren had been over by the car when Griff got zapped, or two of my magic users would have been laid out.
“I know this sounds dumb,” I started, “but I don’t suppose there’s any type of virus protection we can do?”
“I have a few ideas,” Griff replied, “but I’ll need to work with Jasmine, Rachel, and Serena to get something put in place. We may have to reach out to other members of the Crimson Focus as well.”
I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at that. Everyone had someone to call when they needed help with something relating to their profession or personal supernatural situation. Everyone except me, that is. Sure, I could yammer to Dr. Vernon, but she just nodded a lot, said “uh huh” in her judgmental way, and wrote things down in her book that couldn’t have reflected all that well on me.
It’d be fantastic to find one other amalgamite in this world.
Preferably female.
“Guys,” Warren called out, “I think I have something here.”
Chapter 14
“I couldn’t track him,” Warren announced, “but I did learn something. Shitfaced Fred is a wizard.”
I assumed that on the grand scheme of things, this was pertinent information. The nodding heads of my three mages claimed I was correct. Unfortunately, I needed context.
“I thought he was a necromancer,” said Chuck before I could ask any questions.
“He’s practicing necromancy,” Griff replied as he tapped his chin, “but he’s doing so more methodically than a mage would.”
Wizards were notoriously slow. That was good, except that this guy seemed to be able to spin out a decent thread of magic at a rate that would make Warren’s head spin. Obviously he had some way of speeding up the process.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You’ve seen the differences, Chief,” answered Warren. “I can’t just cast spells whenever I feel like it. My magic requires study, planning, and detailed crafting. There are a few that I can do pretty quickly, sure, but anything of the level that Fred is doing would require a hell of a lot of prep time.”
So I was right, but, again, Fred was zipping magic out like he was on crack.
“How much time are we talking here?”
Warren shrugged. “Days, if not weeks, Chief.”
“But don’t you see a problem with that?” I raised an eyebrow to convey that he really should be seeing a problem with his suggested timeline. He didn’t. I clarified. “These zombies came up within hours of each other, not days or weeks.”
“Oh, that’s true.” He licked his lips. “Not good.”
“Definitely not good,” agreed Rachel.
“Yes, I get that it’s not good,” I hissed. “We’ve got some drunk-looking, nutty wizard running around raising dead people; he’s learning from how we defeat them and is tweaking them accordingly; and he’s implemented a virus in his magic so that we get the shit knocked out of us if infected.” They were all staring at me. “And now you’re telling me that it should be taking him days or weeks to work out one of these attacks, but he’s accomplished a couple of them wit
hin hours of each other. It’s obviously not good, gang.”
There was no response. They were clearly just as concerned about Shitfaced Fred as I was, but I tended to wear my emotions on my sleeve.
I took a deep breath.
“Sorry,” I said finally. “I’m being a dick. We’re just processing things differently is all.” I looked down at my suit. “I’ve got zombie juice all over me again, Boomy is in need of a thorough cleaning, and that big-ass dead guy who tried to shoot me called me a vampire.” I groaned. “You know how much that irritates me.”
“It’s okay, Chief,” Warren replied.
“Wait,” said Rachel after a second. “Are you saying that the dead guy spoke to you?”
I looked up. “Yeah, why?”
“It’s weird, that’s why. I didn’t know zombies could speak.”
The other mages were shaking their heads in agreement.
“Why wouldn’t they be able to speak?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer, but feeling like I had to know.
“Because…” Rachel started, but then stopped. “I don’t know. It just seems odd.”
I was okay with odd.
That’s when I noticed that Griff was looking off into the distance. I was starting to dislike that about him. Every time he did it, something was wrong.
“From what I recall over past events,” he said evenly, “reanimated corpses demonstrated no proclivity for an ability to speak.”
Serena flicked a piece of grass from her sleeve. “Never in my dealings with them.”
Okay, so it was a problem that zombies could talk. Besides it just being creepy, I mean. What I didn’t know was why it was a problem.
“Let’s cut to the chase here, guys,” I said, looking from face to face. “Does it really matter if they can speak?”
“It might.”
“Why do you say that, Warren?”
“Because it would mean that Fred can install power words in them.”
I held up my hands and said, “The first one of you who says ‘not good’ is getting double-shifted for a week.” They wisely remained quiet. “Now, what the hell is a power word, Warren?”
He looked suddenly put upon. “Whatever Fred wants it to be, Chief. These things could heal themselves or others. They could cast fireballs of their own.” His eyes were very wide. “He could essentially be raising a zombie army that has the capability to do magic.”
I gulped and said, “Not good.”
Chapter 15
The sun was starting to come up and that meant things were likely to die down for the night. Poor choice of words, I know.
Every now and then we’d get activity during the day, but it wasn’t common. Besides, where subdivisions had a “neighborhood watch,” we at the PPD had a “supernatural watch.” There were members of the supernatural community who were always looking out for odd things to report. This typically resulted in a lot of bogus calls, but Lydia had learned to weed things out over the years.
The light on the cemetery showed that Portman and his crew had done an incredible job. A trained eye may have been able to spot if things were out of place, but I couldn’t see anything off. To be fair, though, I wasn’t hanging out in cemeteries all the time. Still, it was tight. There was no way Portman’s gang had managed this manicuring through shovel work. There was magic involved, which made sense seeing that he had quite a few mages and wizards on his crew.
“All right everyone,” I called out as Portman’s line of white vans drove away, “it’s been a long night. We all need to get some rest because I’m sure we haven’t seen the last of Fred.”
There was no argument.
Rachel decided to hitch a ride back with Felicia and Jasmine since they were heading her way. Chuck and Griff lived in the same place, but they took Warren and Serena with them.
I cut down the strip and turned on to Jerry Lewis Way and into my condominium complex.
The Martin was a nice high rise that sat within walking distance of the Bellagio and the Aria. It was a classy joint with the standard palm trees deal on the drop-off/pick-up area. When I was looking for a place to hang my hat, there were many options, but I’d always thought of Dean Martin as the King of Cool. I never delved into the depths of his personal life or anything, but his TV and movie presence was enough for me. That meant that living in a building named after him suited me.
I threw my keys to the valet and pushed my way into the lobby, waved at the desk clerk, and jumped into the elevator.
My condo was modern with sleek lines and marble flooring. I could see most of downtown via the various windows that ran from one side of the place to the other, and the terrace was huge. Five bedrooms and three baths was probably a bit much for a bachelor, but I sometimes entertained and I didn’t like using my sleeping room for playing around.
I took two steps in when I realized that something was wrong.
There was a vibration that I’d felt many times before. It wasn’t an unpleasant one, not to me anyway, but it also wasn’t expected.
There she sat on my beige leather couch, holding a glass of wine. She had short black hair that was cut with straight lines to frame the high cheek bones on her perfect face. Her ruby red lips barely hinted at the sinister grin that her creased eyes gave away. She wore an outfit that was somehow darker than black, and her legs were crossed, revealing a tall swinging stiletto boot.
She was a succubus.
Not like Serena who just played the part in our past roleplaying fun. This was the genuine article.
One of the magical bits I did have was the ability to scan my surroundings. It didn’t work in congested areas, but it was perfect for places like my condo. I heightened my senses and reached out to each room, the bathrooms, and the closets. Then I scanned the terrace.
She was alone.
That was good, at least. It was tough enough handling one succubus. Handling two or three would be…awesome.
“Hello,” I said after gaining my bearings.
She merely tilted her head in response.
“Come here often?”
A grin.
I took out my phone and checked my schedule. There was nothing on my calendar regarding my having a date today, so this was something beyond that. I thumbed over my personal emails and saw nothing there either. Every now and then I’d meet someone who seemed normal enough but then turned out to be something more. If I had a nickel for every smokin’ hot chick I picked up at a bar who turned out to be a succubus, I’d have a jar full of nickels.
So this was an authentic naughty haunting?
Cool.
The question, though, was who sent her? Somebody had to have. Either that or she arrived on her own volition. Maybe she’d heard of me through friends? That was certainly a possibility. I did have a reputation in the succubus community.
She was playing it smooth, though. No words, just a batting of eyelashes and a seductively bouncing boot.
Two could play at that game. Not the eyelashes and bouncing boots bit. I mean the part about playing it cool.
“Right. Well, I have to take a quick shower as I have zombie juice all over me, but I’ll be out shortly.”
She took another sip of her wine.
Chapter 16
I stepped from the shower to see that she was already waiting for me in my room, and she was slightly less clothed than before. In fact, the only thing she was still wearing were those boots. She also had a whip, of course. It was a succubus thing.
My horny meter was at full, which was abundantly apparent as I caught a glance of myself in the mirror. I quickly snagged a robe and sought to get the upper hand, so to speak. Regardless of how crazy my libido was, my sense of survival was stronger and an unannounced succubus put me on edge. Hopefully it would turn out to be a happy coincidence, but I had to find out before I allowed myself to fall under her spell.
“So, Gladys,” I said playfully, “what brings you to my room?”
Her brow furrowed. “My na
me is not Gladys.”
“Oh right, sorry. Shiela. I meant to say Shiela.” I shrugged. “It’s been a long night. Still trying to recover, you know.”
“It’s not Shiela either.” She looked almost hurt.
“Kay?
“No.”
“Beatrice?”
“Uh uh.”
“Hmmm.” I stroked my chin and frowned. I had to string her on a little longer. “Well, this is embarrassing. I’m not exactly getting off on the right foot here, am I?”
“No.”
I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. “Celia, right? Yeah, that’s it!”
“That’s not it.” She had her arms crossed now and she was pouting. “That’s not it at all.”
If there was any one weak point about a succubus (and an incubus, I’d imagine), it was their inability to handle anything that made their confidence wane. An unconfident succubus was not effective in the least. They preyed on the weak, after all.
“Henrietta?”
“Seriously?” she said with a look of shock. “Do I look like my name would be Henrietta?”
“What’s wrong with Henrietta?”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she began putting her clothes back on. She was murmuring to herself what sounded like curses. I even heard the name “Henrietta” mumbled a few times, along with a snort.
I had her right where I wanted her.
She was vulnerable.
She was no longer in charge.
“Stop what you’re doing,” I said seriously.
She gave me an “excuse me” look, raised eyebrow and all.
“You heard me. Stop.” I stepped over to her and stared into her eyes. It was a hard stare. The kind of stare that made you uncomfortable. “You came here for a reason, no?”
“The moment is gone,” she said with a hint of uncertainty.
“It doesn’t have to be.” I kept my face taut as I reached out and caressed her cheek, sending hints of energy into her. There was some magic that I was really good at. Her mouth opened slightly and her skin began to flush. “Tell me your name.”
The Ian Dex Supernatural Thriller Series: Books 1 - 4 (Las Vegas Paranormal Police Department Box Sets) Page 18
