Blood Drawn: A novel of The Demon Accords

by John Conroe

  “It means that things are going to get much more hinky than we can imagine,” I said. “That we’re not thinking of just how this test is likely to happen.”

  “In other words, it won’t be an offer for standard stuff,” Lisle said. “An offer of power is useless; he already has it. It’ll be something twisted, like putting his aunt and Stacia both under risk and he can only save one of them unless he bows to Hell. Or something equally weird.”

  All three of us turned and stared at her. “You’re, like, just out of college, right?” Lydia asked, although I was certain that she knew the girl’s entire resume by heart.

  “Like six or seven months now,” Lisle said defensively.

  “I think it was a compliment,” I said. “It’s just really hard to tell.”

  “How would you even know?” the mini vampire said to me. “Like I’ve ever given you a compliment.”

  “Exactly—the words were so foreign that they almost have to be complimentary,” I replied.

  Tanya was still focused on Lisle, her brow furrowed. Then her bright blue eyes turned my way. “She’s right. That’s exactly the kind of thing we need to be on guard for.”

  “You mean on top of guarding against alien attacks, forays from Fairie, and demonic incursions?” I asked.

  “Playing defense is lame,” Lydia said. “Not Coven style at all.”

  “Exactly what Stacia said. But O’ Vault of Wisdom, just how do we counterattack?” I asked.

  “If you don’t know where the alien is and you don’t want to go to Hell,” Lisle said, eyes getting wide at our strong negative head shakes, “then you can only go at them through Fairie. Doesn’t Declan have a way to get there?”

  “Whenever he wants,” I said, exchanging a glance with Tanya.

  “What are you thinking, Lisle?” my wife asked.

  “Fairie fought off the Vorsook before, and now the aliens leave them alone, right? Well, they must have some idea of where the aliens are or how to bring the fight to them,” Tanya’s newest assistant said as if it were obvious.

  “You’re suggesting that we just ask the Queens of Fairie?” Lydia asked.

  Lisle shrugged. “I don’t see other options other than sitting around waiting to get hit. Do you?”

  “No, I don’t,” Tanya said. “Omega? What do you think?”

  “I would be very leery of any information the Queens provide,” the AI said through Lydia’s tablet. “But there are other sources of information on Fairie. Speaking of which, a man in upstate New York has been sending Father emails. In summary, they all claim that he has some sort of message from Fairie for Father.”

  “Where in New York?” I asked.

  “Whitehall, near Lake George.”

  I looked at Tanya. She shook her head. “Not me. I’ve got too much work to catch up on.”

  Lydia opened her mouth but Tanya spoke first. “And not her, as she has to help me. Why don’t you take Nika? If this person has information, you might need her skills to make sure it’s real.”

  Chapter 13

  The next day, I found myself driving a company SUV north on Interstate 87, a blanket-covered vampire sleeping in the back seat and Awasos in the far back. Nika had had just enough energy to climb into the Ford Expedition and pass back out. Given that the sun was at its highest point over the Big Apple skyline, that was actually pretty good. Most Darkkin would have been completely immobilized by the sun at high noon.

  The four-hour drive gave me plenty of time to think about recent events and their meaning. Was our attempt at destabilizing the Hell-Vorsook alliance anything but folly? Were we somehow playing into Hell’s plans? Was Declan in danger of making a catastrophic choice?

  After hours of introspection, I decided it was time to prepare for the evening’s meeting as I left the highway and turned first onto New York Route 9 and then a half mile later onto Route 149.

  “So, who is this guy?” I asked the nearly silent car. Nika didn’t twitch and the massive wolf in the cargo area merely flicked his ears, not bothering to open even one eye.

  “Garth Nickerson is forty-seven years old and single. He retired early from a promising career on Wall Street and purchased a large vacant farm that lies between Lake George and the town of Whitehall three years and seven months ago. His online presence indicates that he is an active investment trader and a part-time consultant for a small list of venture capital firms. He has no criminal record, very little social media presence, and is registered as an Independent voter,” Omega said softly through the car’s entertainment system.

  “Yet he claims to have a message from Fairie? For Declan?”

  “His messages all state that he thinks he has information regarding Fairie and that Declan should contact him.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I think that Mr. Nickerson has been doing a tremendous amount of internet searching about the topic of Sasquatch, beginning just after he bought his property. The town of Whitehall has been the site of multiple sights of creatures matching the general description of Bigfoot and, in fact, the town has made the cryptoid its official mascot.”

  “You think this has something to do with Sasquatch?” I asked.

  “It appears that he has a near-obsessive interest in the topic. We know that Sasquatches can open portals, even ones to Fairie.”

  “Hence the reason you assigned some validity to this claim,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  “You brought me up here on a monster-hunting expedition?” a drowsy voice asked from the back seat.

  The sun was setting and my travel partner was apparently awake. I say apparently because she still had the blanket over her head.

  “Yeah,” I answered.

  “Cool. I needed a field trip. At this point, I’d have gone looking for the Jersey Devil,” Nika said, finally pushing down the blanket. Despite sleeping in a car for four-plus hours, she looked perfectly groomed, not a blonde hair out of place.

  “The Jersey Pines are pretty close to the city. You wouldn’t have gotten much of a break,” I said.

  She waved one hand absently. “Like I said, any break would be good.”

  “The boss been working you and Lydia to the bone?” I asked.

  She laughed. “No, it’s just been crazy busy. You don’t see it because you’re zipping around looking into stuff like this, but the world is on pins and needles and the sharp point all comes together on Demidova Tower.”

  “That bad?”

  “Do you know how many requests for appearances I’ve dealt with in the last two months?”

  “Appearances? What kind of appearances?” I asked.

  “For you. For Tanya. For the kid and Stacia.”

  “To do what?”

  “Anything. Commencement speeches, civic reassurance, calming the masses; you name it.”

  “I, ah, didn’t really know that,” I said. Tanya hadn’t said a word.

  “It wasn’t important for you to know. And the dollar amounts being thrown around were crazy,” she said.

  “What? They were going to pay?”

  “Of course. Either directly to Demidova or, once they figured out that we weren’t amenable to that, then donations to our charities and foundations.”

  “But wait. We did speak at the president’s Rose Garden event.”

  “Some reassurance from the principal defenders of the planet is necessary,” she said. “We just want to avoid letting anyone buy it.”

  “I haven’t paid enough attention,” I said, glancing in the rearview mirror.

  “Chris, you’re the lead person for defending this world from alien invasion. You’ve had a pretty full plate of planning, preparing, and running down stuff like this, not to mention being a dad to the two most unique children in the world.”

  “Still, it seems like I should have realized.”

  “Since when do you pay attention to the corporate business?”

  She had me there. Corporate management was Tanya’s thing, no
t mine.

  “You will have a left-hand turn onto a dirt road in three-point-two miles,” Omega suddenly interjected.

  “Sure, probably a turn onto a railroad track,” Nika said.

  “Please. If I was to go down that GPS rabbit hole, I’d pick something original, like a short road into a deep quarry.”

  “Nika, please don’t give him any ideas,” I said. Omega’s grasp of humor was pretty good, but I wasn’t too sure where he drew the line.

  The left-hand turn came up quick and I slowed as we headed down it. There was a field on either side at first, but that quickly gave way to a few trees, followed by thick woods.

  “This is a farm?” Nika asked

  “It was last operational thirteen years ago. Tax records show the dairy had unexplained livestock losses and diminishing production for over a decade. The farmer’s children moved away and when the farmer finally died, the property sat unsold for a number of years. Mr. Nickerson bought it but never attempted any kind of farming. Regrowth has claimed approximately fifty-three percent of the cleared fields.”

  A mailbox appeared along with a driveway that looked to be in better condition than the road. I turned the SUV in and followed a long curve through thick woods before the driveway opened to a much-modified-looking house. It was odd, with half of it a typical New England farmhouse covered in white clapboard siding married to a much newer, cedar-sided Scandinavian-looking structure. A middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and beard looked up from the woodpile he was working on and frowned at us.

  When we stepped out, his eyes focused first on Nika, then me, then, rather oddly, glanced at the setting sun behind us.

  Awasos jumped down from the back of the Expedition, resulting in an eyebrow raise. “Mr. Nickerson?” I called.

  “You’re not him,” he said.

  I shared a glance with Nika before I asked, “Not who, sir?”

  “Declan,” Nika said under her breath. “He’s expecting Declan.” We were now walking toward the man and I made sure my sister-in-law was a bit behind me.

  “I’m Chris Gordon and this is my associate, Nika,” I said, twisting to wave a hand back at her.

  “Well, of course I know who you are. I don’t live under a rock, you know. Where’s the witch?”

  “He couldn’t make it. We came instead.”

  “No, no, no. I was very clear in my emails. The information is for the witch,” he said, frowning at us, the firewood in his arms clearly forgotten.

  “Well, you’ve got us, but I’m sure we can deliver the message,” I said.

  “They won’t like it,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Who won’t like it?” I asked. We were only about twenty feet away and Nika lowered her voice even more.

  “He’s thinking of Sasquatches,” she said in a whisper.

  Then we were up to him and I was holding my hand out to shake. He looked at it blankly for a moment but didn’t return the gesture. Up close, I could see he was in desperate need of a haircut and beard trim, and his Timberland work boots were muddy, but his jeans and Henley shirt looked fairly clean.

  His eyes flicked from me to Nika and widened out a bit. It was getting dark and he might not have seen her too well before but now, up close, her vampire-enhanced beauty was clearly evident and, perhaps, her pale skin.

  “Mr. Nickerson,” I said, getting his attention back. “You sent multiple emails to Declan O’Carroll about a message from Fairie. We came to look into it. Do you have anything or was this a massive waste of our time?”

  He turned back to me and I could almost see him shift mental gears as he processed my words.

  “They wanted Mr. O’Carroll. I don’t think they’ll want anything to do with you,” he said.

  “Who? The Bigfoots?” I asked.

  “Of course. Wait… How do you know?”

  “Sir, you know who we are. You sent emails to Declan, so you must have heard of Omega too,” I said.

  “Oh. The computer—of course. I never thought about that,” he said.

  “I scan all communications sent to Declan O’Carroll and flag any that bear out initial screening,” Omega said from the phone outlined in Nickerson’s right front jeans pocket. “And you have an inordinate interest in the concept of Sasquatch.”

  I had to give the man credit: He recovered fast. After just a single surprised glance at his pocket, he lifted his head and nodded. “Best I’m going to get, I suppose.”

  “The God Hammer himself came to visit you, Mr. Nickerson,” Nika said with an amused grin.

  That startled him, as if he had forgotten what the media called me. He seemed a man not fully in touch with the world.

  “Perhaps other worlds,” Nika said softly.

  “What?” he asked her. ‘Did you say something?”

  “I said perhaps it was a waste,” she said, louder.

  “Oh no. Not that,” he said, then seemed to realize he was holding firewood in his left arm. He bent down and let the chunks of wood fall to the ground.

  “How do you know they want Declan?” I asked. “Do you speak Bigfoot? Or Sasquatch?”

  “What? No, of course not. I mean, I know a bit about them, but I can’t copy their words.”

  “So how did you know it was Declan they wanted?” I repeated, beginning to get annoyed.

  He must have picked up on it, maybe my tone or body language. I could see the moment he remembered that the man standing before him, dressed in jeans and a simple pullover, wasn’t just a regular man. His right hand fumbled for his rear pocket, his actions catching my hidden half’s attention, causing watchfulness but not enough to bring Grim out. He pulled out a folded scrap of paper, glossy and thin. He held it out in my direction, his torso pulling back from me in a less-than-conscious manner. He now smelled of fear.

  I took it and unfolded it. It was a page torn from a magazine, a picture of Declan.

  “The People article,” Nika said, identifying its origin. “Sasquatch reads People Magazine?” she asked, amused. She would already know the answer, so her tone was for me, a reminder, perhaps, to lighten up.

  “No, it was my magazine. I put it in the recycle pile in the barn. This was left out for me to find,” he said. Seeing my confusion, he pressed on. “I have a connection to one of them. A young female. I helped her once, when I first got here. We leave gifts and things for each other on a fence post up behind the barn,” he said, lifting his chin in the direction of the post.

  “You’re telling us that a Sasquatch went into your barn, ripped this picture from an old magazine, and left it for you to find?” I asked, turning toward my companion, who nodded ever so slightly.

  “It might sound crazy to you, but you have to understand. See, I own four hundred and fifty acres, most of it now wooded. Her family lives in and around here. Sasquatches have always lived around this part of the Adirondacks, particularly in the spring and summer. Lake George is a great source of food, the woods are full of game, and the farms provide opportunity to scavenge corn and apples.”

  “And you befriended them?” I asked.

  “Just the one. The others know of me and leave me be. But the daughter, well, as I say, we have a sort of connection,” Garth said. I waited for more, watching him. “There was this big wind storm a week after I first arrived. She got caught under tree fall. Pinned and unable to get leverage or she’d have freed herself. They’re immensely strong. Stronger than gorillas. Probably ten times our strength.” I saw him suddenly reconsider his words. “Well, my strength, anyway. I used a sapling to lever it off her. After that, I found her tracks around the barn, and I left out some apples. She left an eagle feather. From there, it became a regular thing.”

  “Show us,” Nika said. It was a command, albeit a gentle one, and Garth started moving back toward the big barn.

  He showed us the inside, where he kept his garbage cans and recycling. The issue of People in question was sitting atop a pile of tabloids and magazines, opened to the article.

&
nbsp; “Back here is the fence post,” he said, leading us through the big, empty barn that reminded me of a barn much farther north where a certain old man still farmed a bit. He took us out the back where the cattle used to come and go, and up to a split-rail fence. He pointed at the nearest post, which also looked like the newest. The top of the fence post had four bright new nails tacked around the edge, while a five-gallon plastic pail was turned upside down by the base, providing a flat surface that currently held a pair of marbles and a canister of table salt. “It was hung on one of those,” he said, pointing to the nails.

  “So that led you to the conclusion that she wanted to talk to Declan?” I asked.

  “Well, she followed it up with this,” he said, tipping over the pail to reveal what looked like a torn piece of black leather. When I leaned over and looked closer, I could see it was covered in reptilian scales.

  “It looks like dinosaur hide or something. Made me think of Fairie.”

  “Is that…” Nika asked me. I nodded.

  “You are close, Mr. Nickerson, but it’s not dinosaur. It’s dragon hide,” I said, holding the fabric in my hand. On closer examination, it wasn’t torn, but cleanly cut with a very sharp blade. “Yeah, I think you’re on the correct path. This definitely came from Fairie.”

  “Don’t Morrigan’s people wear that color dragonskin?” Nika asked.

  “Yes, yes they do. Let’s go see your Sasquatches, Mr. Nickerson. It’s time for that message.”

  Chapter 14

  He drove us out to the back of his property in a side-by-side utility vehicle just as the sun was slipping down behind the Adirondack Mountains to the west. The little UTV had bright lights to illuminate the muddy path, not that Nika or I needed them. ’Sos ran alongside, eyes and ears alert.

  “They live in the woods between here and the lake,” he explained, stopping the UTV and turning it off. “My property borders the state forest, which goes on for miles and miles, north and south along the lakeshore.” He automatically lowered his voice at the end as the engine sound died away, replaced by the soft sounds of the forest at night. Night birds called and insects trilled, and somewhere not too far to the north, a bullfrog croaked. The headlights stayed on, lighting the thick woods in front of us.