by Andrew Dudek
“Thanks.”
Dallas climbed the stairs the rest of the way, leaving me alone in the basement with Amy. She’d be out for a few more hours at least, so there was no reason I couldn’t go pay a visit to the recovering werewolf. The next few days were going to be dangerous around the Round Table’s office. If I could get a relative innocent like Harrison out of harm’s way before Cerberus showed up, it would be better for everybody.
Madison’s Internet sleuthing had uncovered two addresses for a Mr. Paul Ellis: home and work. It was late afternoon, and I figured the odds were good he’d still be on the job, so I piled Harrison into the car and headed for the bank.
Paul Ellis worked as a teller in a Bull’s Head branch of a national banking concern. You’d think, working in Staten Island, the employees would have been used to seeing weirdos coming in and out, but Harrison and I still got some confused, curious, cautious looks as we strode into the bank. A fat security guard rose from a chair near the door, a hand near his gun. I ignored him and led Harrison to the roped-off section where customers waited for the next available teller. There weren’t a lot of other customers, and a woman with short dark hair and Persian features gave me a nervous smile and waved for me to come over.
Instead, I went to the teller next to her, a man with a thick beard and a bald head. The name plate in front of him said he was Paul Ellis.
Ellis growled as we approached. He leaned close to his window and whispered, “It’s not often I get people like me in here. What pack you from?”
“Uh, I’m not sure,” Harrison said nervously. “I just found out what I am a few days ago. My father’s name was White Paws.”
Ellis surveyed the kid for a moment. Never heard of him. What can I do for you today?”
“We’re not actually here to make a deposit,” I said. “I’m sure you’re shocked.”
“No kidding. The first wolf I’ve seen in years didn’t just happen to wander up to my window. What do you want.”
“I want to learn to control it,” Harrison blurted out. “The wolf, I mean.”
I glanced at the teller at the next desk. She was typing away at her computer, making sure not to look like she was eavesdropping.
“Don’t worry about Reeta. She knows what I am, and she won’t tell.” Ellis smiled and winked at his neighbor.
I nodded to her and looked back at Ellis. “So, can you help the kid?”
He leaned back in his chair. “You want to take off the fur coat. You can’t, and the sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be.”
“You did it.”
“No, I just figured out how to put it away. The wolf’s always there—it’s a part of me. Just like it’s a part of you. You’re a wolf, pup, and you always will be.”
“Oh.” Harrison’s face fell like a kid’s who’d just found out he could never be Batman.
A snarl bubbled in Ellis’s throat, low and wet. He shook his head, slapped a hairy hand on the desk. “Fine. Come by my house after seven—like seven-thirty. I assume you know the address?”
“We know the address,” I said.
Ellis’s mustachioed lip curled. He had spinach stuck in his front teet. “And who are you?”
“Dave Carver. Round Table.”
The werewolf’s lip fell and his eyes bulged. “I haven’t hurt anybody.”
“I know,” I said, leaning in close. “Believe me, if you had hurt someone, this conversation would be a lot less pleasant.”
Ellis nodded. “Fair enough. By the way, pup, what’s your name?”
“Harrison Edwards.”
The older wolf laughed. “You’re a werewolf named Harry? Your parents must have just abhorred you.”
“My mom didn’t know what I was.”
“Whatever. I’ll see you tonight.”
“You sure you’ll be okay by yourself?”
Harrison looked at me side-eyed and popped a french fry into his mouth. The smell of grilled meat filled the room as he unwrapped his Big Mac. “I’ll be fine. I mean, it’s probably gonna be safer with Ellis than it is back at your office, right?”
I sighed. Teen-wolf had a point. Cerberus’ six fiery eyes burned in my memory and I shivered. Just the A/C, I told myself. It’s cold in here.
“Don’t worry about me,” Harrison said. “I’ll stay with Ellis tonight. Maybe see if he'll take me back to Queens tomorrow.
I nodded and stood up, snagging a fry from the cardboard container on Harrison’s tray. A low growl bubbled in his throat, but he shut it down with a grimace. I swallowed hard, reminding myself that at his core, Harrison Edwards might just have the soul of a dangerous predator.
I forced a smile. “Well, kid, have fun at obedience school.”
He let out a couple of sarcastic laughs. “Thanks. Good luck with your own dog problem.”
Chapter 15
Magic is fluid.
Don’t ask me why, but it is. At the right time of day, it’s easier to access the fundamental forces of the universe. It’s part of the reason why we find sunrises and sunsets so appealing. Twilight, too.
The sky was an ominous shade of purple with flashes of orange-red that reminded me of Cerberus’s flaming eyes. Perfect time to make a long-distance call.
Even at the right times I don’t have much in the way of magic juice. But I did have something that could make the spell I was about to attempt easier. A secret weapon.
The rapier hung on the wall behind my desk, a long thin sword with a point like a snake’s tooth. An empty spot was set into the leather-bound hilt, where a jewel had once sat. I slid my hand behind the guard and pulled the sword down. I didn’t feel the rush of power that I associated with my own sword. This was different—but familiar, like sliding my fingers into the hand of an old lover.
Which, in some ways, is exactly what it was.
I needed help. Rob and Earl and Krissy, just a staircase away, would be willing to help, I was sure of that. But I couldn’t bring myself to march down those steps to ask. Because asking for help would be opening the lines of connection, opening myself to them, and I couldn’t do that. Not after Bill.
But there was still someone who could help me, someone who had once been willing to put the entire human race in jeopardy to pull my ass out of a fire. Mayena Strain wasn’t a knight anymore, but I thought, maybe, she’d come if I needed her.
I closed my eyes, tightened my grip on the sword that had once belonged to May, and drew my own. I chanted the words that May had taught me when she created the spell that had bound our two swords together: “E.T. phone home. E.T. phone home.” I repeated it over and over, the words turning into a chant as sweat poured down my temples and coated my palms. Someone like Dallas, someone with real magic power, would be able to establish a magical connection as easily as dialing a phone number. As it was I would have stood no chance of getting through if not for the hijacking of the magic in the two swords.
The sapphire in my pommel glowed first, followed by a pulse of ruby light from the empty slot in the rapier’s hilt. A sudden, intense burst of pressure knocked me on my ass, and I grimaced. I hated this part.
The pressure increases, contracting my chest as if someone had dropped a maxed-out weight bar on my sternum. I couldn’t breathe for a moment, and even worse, I felt like my insides were collapsing, as if my soul was being squeezed through a toothpaste tube.
My perspective shifted. Instead of standing in my office, I was perched behind someone’s desk in a tinier room. The shelves were lined with books—they towered over me like skyscrapers. There were dusty old tomes, mixed in with torn and bent paperbacks. May was a voracious reader, but she was tough on her books. A pair of soft, plush chairs faced me, unoccupied. Behind the desk, facing away from me, was a woman with a head of red-gold hair.
“Hey,” I said. My voice was tiny and hollow, like I was speaking through a tin-can. “What’s a guy gotta do to get you to pick up the phone?”
Mayena Strain turned around, a smile coming to her lips. M
y ex-girlfriend wore a simple brown robe over an old Soundgarden T-shirt. She’s been growing her hair back out, which I liked, and she wore it loose so that it curled around her neck. Her shoulders were broad, her limbs and torso layered with swimmer’s muscles. I could almost smell the strawberries in her hair. “It’s good to see you, Dave.”
“You can’t see me, May,” I said. “I’m inside jewelry.”
She sighed. “It’s good to hear you, then.”
I laughed. “You think that school of yours is ever gonna allow cell service? Not that I don’t enjoy having my consciousness transported three thousand miles to talk to you.”
May shook her head and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I doubt it. The Sisters aren’t big on modern conveniences.”
“I guess Boot Camp for Witches wouldn’t be as effective if you could just hop on the internet whenever you felt like it. The ascetic lifestyle suits you, though. You look great, May.”
“Thanks, Dave. What can I do for you?”
I hesitated. I cared deeply for May and I didn’t want her thinking I only called when I needed something. “What, can’t a guy call his old…whatever just to chat?”
“I’d love that,” May said, “but I know how much of an effort it is for you to open the line. I don’t hold it against you. What’s the problem, and how can I help?”
“There’s a bit of a situation here,” I said. I summarized the events of the last few days and finished, “I could use another sword out here, especially one that can make it rain fire.”
May frowned. “I laid my sword down, Dave. You know that. It isn’t me anymore.”
“I know,” I said. “I just thought—”
“I’d love to help, I really would, but I have responsibilities here. Classes to teach. Exams to grade. I can’t just abandon them. You have a team, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but—”
“You’re not sure you can trust them.” She nodded. “‘Cause of Bill.”
I nodded.
“Don’t forget,” May said, “I was working with him every day during the war. The whole time he was planning to do what he was planning to do. I had a hard time making friends out here at first. I was always afraid that they were scheming up a way to feed me to some vampires.”
“How’d you get over it?”
“I didn’t, really.” May shook her head. “I just told myself that not everybody’s Bill. I’m not sure I’ll ever really get over it, but I made a choice. I decided I could either spend the rest of my life distrustful and disdained, or I could let myself learn to trust again. I chose to trust. You’re a good man, Dave. A hard man, sometimes, but you’ve earned that. You just need to let your team get to know you, and they’ll follow you. If you go through life expecting disappointment, that’s all you’ll get.”
At the back of my brain, there was a faint knocking sound. “Somebody’s at my door,” I said. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?”
“‘Fraid not,” she said, giving me one of her heart-breaking smiles. “But you can handle it, whatever it is. Trust your team.” Mayena Strain tapped the jewel that had once sat in her sword, and the scene faded to black.
I was back in my office. The weight was off my chest and I could sit up. I was thirsty and I had a slight headache. Magic always wound up giving me a hangover.
Krissy was standing in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. She stared at the two unsheathed swords in my hands, but she didn’t comment.
“The girl’s awake,” she said. “Thought you’d wanna know.” She left without waiting for a response.
I sighed and got to my feet. I returned May’s sword to its spot of honor on the wall. I ran a hand through my hair, then headed down to the basement to talk to Amy Vernon.
She was sitting on the couch, her head back, staring at the ceiling. Earl James stood sentry at the bottom of the stairs, his hand near his scimitar.
“Take a break, Lieutenant,” I said as I went past. With a muttered, “yes, sir,” he spun on his heels with military precision and marched upstairs.
The basement was in much better shape than it had been when I first took over. The hand tools that had took up one entire wall had been moved into a corner, which allowed most of the main section of the basement floor to be used as a sparring space. I had lights installed, bright ones, which made the place feel a bit like a gym.
Although if you looked at the back wall, you’d be forgiven for thinking it looked a little super-villainish. Axes, knives, swords, spears, bows and arrows, maces, morningstars, and flails hung on pegs set in the wall, alongside a more modest collection of handguns and rifles. The latter were remnants from my training with Bill: a magic sword’s all well and good, but sometimes there’s no substitute for a few ounces of hot lead.
Amy brushed a lock of yellow-white hair from her eyes and looked at me. The circles under her eyes were even darker, and the veins stood out bright blue in her arms. She drummed her fingers against her leg. Her nails were elaborately painted in a summery shade of pink, but several of them were broken. She surveyed me for a moment and said, “And here I thought I was gonna be underdressed.”
I tugged at the collar of my T-shirt. The bandage was soaked through and the cotton was reddening from the hellhound bite. “I’ll have you know this look is all the rage in Paris.”
“Is that where I am, Paris?”
“Queens, actually.”
“Ugh. Kill me.”
“Hey, you were living in Newark.”
“Were?”
“Yeah…” I rubbed my jaw. “Your building got kind of messed up.”
“Ugh.” Amy leaned her head against the wall. “The three-headed Devil Dog?”
“So you have some idea of what’s happening.”
“Some,” she said. “What are you, Round Table?”
“You know who we are,” I said. “So you should also know it’s a pretty serious violation to summon a hellhound.”
“Yes, I do know that,” she said, “but that wasn’t what I thought we were doing.” She shook her head. “Hey, what happened to Stefanie?”
“Well, the hellhound found you at the warehouse. It ripped the place apart, killed a bunch of guards.”
“And Stefanie?”
“Not sure,” I said. “The structure was intact, so she’s probably alright.”
“Damn.”
“Not a friend of yours? The two of you seemed pretty close.”
“She’s my dealer,” Amy said. “I’ve been trying to get off the venom, but then that thing happened in the graveyard and I knew I needed to find someplace safe to hide. Stefanie works for the vampires’ leader, so I knew her place was magically shielded and I figured I could hold out. But then as soon as I was there she was feeding me wine and one thing led to another…”
“You could have come to us,” I said. “The Round Table has ways of protecting people.”
She snorted. “Not like it matters. The demon’s coming for me. I used some of my blood to fuel the summoning ritual. I guess he got a little taste and wanted some more.” She smiled bitterly. “Not the first time that’s happened to me.”
“What can you tell me about that night?”
“What’s there to tell? There were five of us there. We summoned the hellhound by mistake. I managed to teleport away before it could get me, but it killed the rest. Sage, Chyna, Marigold.” She shook her head. “Should have known nothing good would come from working with that pack of amateurs. Except for the Professor…She was scary.”
My ears perked up at that and I took a step closer to the pyramid trap, being careful not to touch the fence. “Who’s that?”
“The Professor. She organized the whole thing. Led the summoning.”
“And she was killed by the hellhound, too?”
Amy shook her head.
I felt my blood pumping faster with the possibility of a new track in the hunt. “She teaches at JCPU?”
“No, she was from out of state.
California, I think. Told all she was looking for some special girls to be a part of her new sisterhood. Turns out she was just looking for some kibble for her new pet.”
“This professor have a name?”
“Yeah,” Amy said. “She told us her name was Strain. Professor Strain.”
My heart dropped into my stomach, which threatened to expel its contents all over the floor. No, no, no. It wasn’t possible. Not May. It couldn’t be, I had just spoken to her. She’s a witch, a dark part of my brain whispered. It wouldn’t be hard to fool you. Especially when you were so blinded with the notion that she was the only person you could trust.
“You okay, man?” Amy asked. “You don’t look so good.”
My voice was a croak, barely understandable. “What did she look like?”
“Uh, hot, I guess.” Amy paused and thought. “Tall, thin. Broad shoulders. Small tits. Maybe mid-thirties. Really long dark hair.”
Wait. May was a year younger than me, which meant she was in her mid-twenties and she definitely didn’t have long dark hair. It could have been a glamour, an illusion, but I could think of a simpler explanation. May wasn’t the sorcerer who had sacrificed those girls to Cerberus.
But I had a feeling I knew who was.
Chapter 16
Madison opened a leather-bound book, the Round Table’s Codex Demonica, and pointed. An illustration of an immense three-headed dog stood facing off against a muscular, golden-haired, naked man. One of the heads was thrown back, tongue lolling, while the other two snapped at the man, who waved a sword in their general direction.
“This,” she said, “is Cerberus.”
I leaned forward and read out loud: “'The three-headed dog which, according to Classical legend, guarded the River Styx, the entrance to the hellish afterlife, is generally believed to be a member of a mid-tier demon class. Cerberus displays many of the qualities associated with hellhounds—excellent tracking skills and extreme tenacity—leading some researchers to speculate that is one of them, perhaps the father of modern hellhounds.’ Oh.” I pushed the book away. “So that’s not good.”
