“My face hurts every time it’s cold.”
I grinned at him. “It gets cold a lot in Cleveland.”
Kappie’s smile faltered. He took a step onto the catwalk, his head nodding slowly. “How is your lovely boss, Ada? She still working you to the bone?”
Keep cool, Maggie warned me.
“You know, I really wouldn’t mind breaking your nose again.”
“And I wouldn’t mind burying your body on the premises, but I don’t think you came here for either of those activities. How may I help you, Reaper Fitz?”
I rolled my eyes. “Got some questions for you, Kappie.”
Kappie licked his lips like a fat man eyeing a succulent desert. “Questions? Questions? Have you joined OtherOps now, Alek? If that’s the case, you should identify yourself immediately. Unless they’ve changed their handbook.”
“I’m not with OtherOps.” I resisted the urge to look around for a sink. Talking with imps always made me want to wash my hands, and Kappie was worse than most.
“Reapers aren’t in the business of asking questions,” Kappie rasped thoughtfully. “Unless you’re here to ask my help in finding a debtor. In which case, we need to talk about a fee first.”
“I’m curious if you know anything about a group of imps that wound up dead downtown yesterday.”
Where are you taking this, Alek? Maggie asked. Do you really want to tell him you killed five of his kind? He won’t let you walk out of here alive.
He’s not going to find out who did it, I assured her.
Kappie raised thick eyebrows. “Dead imps? I haven’t heard a word. Should I be expecting a visit from OtherOps?”
He’s telling the truth, Maggie interjected.
“I doubt it,” I said. “OtherOps doesn’t know they’re dead.”
“Did you kill them?”
The question shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. I kept my expression neutral. “What business would I have killing imps?”
Kappie lifted his chin, eyeballing me down the bridge of his nose. “Because you hate us. Or you think imps are stealing from one of your clients.”
“Are they?” I asked.
Kappie cocked an eyebrow, then leaned against the railing of the catwalk. “From your demeanor, I can assume that someone is. It’s the only reason you would come out here. Beyond breaking my nose, that is. If you told me the name of the client who was robbed, I might be able to help…”
“Just answer the question: Have you or your kin been stealing from a Valkyrie client?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
He’s telling the truth, Maggie broke in again.
You’re sure? There was definitely a part of me that had hoped Kappie would be involved in this mess so I had an excuse to bring Ferryman’s wrath down on his head.
Sure as I can spot a liar.
“If you’re lying to me,” I told Kappie, “I’ll rip your ears off.”
Kappie seemed unaffected by the threat. “Now, now, Alek, no need for that kind of language. I’m not stupid. If you’re out here asking questions, that means that OtherOps hasn’t been involved yet. But if you fail, they will get involved, and dead imps will mean that they’ll question me first. I’m the last person who wants that. I’m being entirely honest. Let me see here…” he tapped his chin. “Have you checked with my competitors?”
“You don’t have competitors,” I said cautiously.
“On the contrary—two of my former colleagues from Paronskaft have been pressing in on my territory lately. This region has proven very profitable for some of my side businesses, and I won’t let them have a cut.”
“Do you have names?” I asked.
“Leave me a card, and I’ll have one of my people send them over,” Kappie said. I gave him my card, and he pocketed it. He paused, then added, “Call any of your contacts over at OtherOps. There’s an imp turf war brewing in the Midwest. I’ve been trying to stay out of it, but my territory is at the heart of it. If some dead imps turned up, you can likely look toward one of the names I’ll send you later.”
I tapped my foot. I hadn’t entirely convinced myself that Kappie was involved, but I definitely hadn’t expected him to be so cooperative. “All right, send me those names. If you hear anything at all about stolen Other goods, let me know immediately.” I turned and left before I had to look at his stupid face for any longer. I headed back to my truck, where I spent a few minutes watching imps load their semi while I meditated on his answer.
So everything he said is true? I asked Maggie again.
Or at least he believes it’s true, she answered. He’s not responsible for Ferryman’s missing souls. Could it be one of his competitors?
Possibly, I said, but I’m not going to rule him out just yet. He was too straightforward. I’ve never met an imp that willing to answer questions.
Maybe he’s scared of the people moving in on his territory, Maggie suggested. If there’s a bigger, badder imp out there gunning for his turf, it might be in his interest to be honest with us.
An imp war. That’s the last damn thing we need right now. I started the truck, then opened the glove compartment, sorted through a handful of loose cigars—an old tip from Baron Samedi—and pulled out a bag of honey-roasted cashews. Snacking away, I drove out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway. “You Spin Me Right Round” came on the radio. I hummed along, thinking aloud at Maggie. I have my doubts that even an imp king is greedy enough to steal souls. Imps are involved—we’ve got a pile of their dead kin to prove it—but I have the feeling it’s going to lead back to something more dangerous than these little assholes.
What next? Maggie asked.
In answer, I dialed up Justin and listened to the ringer until his voice came on.
“Justin, it’s Alek. Quick question for you.”
“Hey! I was just about to call you. What’s up?”
I drove with my knee, cashews in one hand, phone in the other. “Have you heard any whispers about an imp war?”
“Seriously?” He laughed. “There’ve been whispers about an imp war for years. When they start turning up dead in large numbers, I’ll believe that one of those lazy asshole kings has finally decided to start something serious.”
I sucked the salty-sweet flavor off one of the cashews, deep in thought. This didn’t necessarily rule out the possibility that a war was coming, or that Kappie was afraid of one. But if Justin didn’t find the idea credible, I leaned toward believing him. “So,” I asked slowly, “if I were to send you some pictures of some imps, could you run IDs on them with no questions asked?”
“Sure.”
“I’m serious. No questions.”
“Eh, nobody around here cares much for imps, and we still owe you for that thing with the bunyip. Yeah, I can do that.”
“Thanks. I’ll buy the first two rounds next time we’re out. Oh, what were you about to call me about?”
“That necromancer kid.”
“He give you anything?”
“No, but our examiner finished with him. That kid is stupid powerful. We actually had to overnight special restraints for him so he wouldn’t have to be under personal guard twenty-four seven. I’m not sure if that actually matters or not, but I thought you’d want to know. If you hadn’t broken his fingers, he probably would’ve killed you in that Starbucks.”
I growled in frustration. I still needed to know who hired him. “Thanks for the info. I’ll send you photos of imps to ID.” I hung up and tapped the corner of the phone against my bottom canines to the tune of whatever was on the radio as I sought after one of those many niggling thoughts that had crept past me while talking to Kappie. I dialed Nadine.
When she picked up, I said, “Nadine, I need you to do a little hunting for me.”
“What kind of hunting, hun?”
“So
mething’s been bothering me about that thing with Judith Pyke. First, who would know that she lost her soul, and second, who would be in a position to know that she was disgruntled over the whole thing?”
“Is that a question?”
“No, I’m thinking out loud. Do this for me: call LuciCorp and see if you can get anything else out of her file—whether someone who works there happens to be friends with her, or if her old case worker might have gotten a windfall recently.”
“That’s a lot of ground to cover.”
“I appreciate the help.” I hung up before she could protest further. I’d need to call Judith and ask her a few more questions, but that could wait until I had some more coffee in me. I was in a relatively rural area, and I despaired of having to wait until I was back to the freeway to find a Starbucks. Pulling up to a stop sign, I put away my cashews so I wouldn’t eat the whole bag in one sitting. When I sat back up, I saw a brief flash of metal out of the corner of my eye and heard Maggie scream in my ear.
Look out!
The world exploded in glass and twisting steel.
Chapter 7
Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP!
Pain shot through me, lancing upward from my left hand and spreading through my body like a fire. For a few moments, I thought my finger had been cut off. I jerked my head up and away from the wall of the truck’s cab, trying to blink through a haze of double vision. A black car had jumped the ditch and slammed into the passenger-side wheel well of my truck. A mix of smoke and steam rose from the engines of both vehicles. I shook my hand violently and held it to my face until I realized that the pain was coming from Maggie’s ring and not a wound.
I’m awake! I told her. What happened?
Two draugr are getting out of that car. They will be at your door in less than ten seconds, and they have every intention of killing you.
How long have I been out?
Moments, she answered. Get the fuck out of your truck.
I felt like I was moving through molasses as I tried to open the door. The whole frame of the truck had been twisted by the accident, and I had to put my shoulder against the door and give it a hard shove before it creaked open. Too much strength went into the shove, and I tottered out of the vehicle, my legs wobbly beneath me, and I slipped on the steep, muddy bank of the ditch my truck had been pushed into. I fell to my hands and knees and squeezed my eyes shut for a brief moment.
Move it, damn you. On your feet!
Maggie’s urging got me to my knees, then my feet. I could feel my muscles in that post-car-accident disjointedness, when the stiffness hasn’t set in yet but your body knows something is wrong. My vision finally began to clear as the two draugr came around the front of my ruined truck. They looked, somehow, more… full than last time—meatier, taller, though their eyes were still hollow. One of them stopped, leaning over the bumper like it was looking for something, while the other came straight toward me at a run.
It leapt at me like a lion, arms out, razor-like fingernails hitting me full in the chest. I felt them bite into my tough skin as I grabbed him by the forearms and spun, using his momentum to throw him over my shoulder. The toss was successful, but I slipped on the muddy ditch again and went down into shin-deep, stagnant water. I splashed across and climbed the other side after my opponent.
The draugr was back on its feet by the time I reached it. I eyed its stance as it prepared to throw itself at me again, seeing absolutely no amount of finesse in the movement. Whoever this asshole had been in real life, it had not been a fighter.
Which didn’t mean it wasn’t insanely strong.
Mjolnir flared to life on the back of my hand. My knuckles connected with its chest, but unlike last time, my fist didn’t breeze through it like paper. Its sorcery-infused body buckled under the blow, bones grinding beneath the power of my tattoo but not giving way entirely. The draugr snatched at my elbow with its one good hand, its nails drawing blood, and tried to bury its blacked teeth in my neck.
The “remove its spine and watch it disappear” trick wasn’t going to work again. These guys had clearly gotten a makeover not just for their physical forms but for the sorcery holding them together. I got my left arm between my neck and the draugr’s gnashing teeth and backpedaled under the force of the draugr’s momentum. That force suddenly disappeared, and the draugr stepped back so abruptly that I nearly tripped backward over my own feet. I had just enough time for a moment of confusion before I remembered the other draugr.
I whirled and caught a glimpse of the chrome bumper of my truck swinging toward me like a baseball bat. The bumper caught me just beneath the chin, snapping my mouth closed, my head back, and my whole body into an unplanned backflip.
Pain lanced through me like electricity as I landed in the grass. It came from both my ringing head and my finger.
Don’t you dare pass out! Maggie shouted.
I propped myself up on my forearms. If I get hold of this bastard again, flame him.
No can do. We have company.
I didn’t have time to figure out what she meant. I heard footsteps coming fast, and I rolled on pure instinct. The end of the bumper slammed into the grass where I’d just been. I tried to get to my knees only for the next swing to tag me on the shoulder. I flipped around and finally rolled to my knees just as another swing came for my head.
I caught the bumper with both hands. My tusks were completely out now, blood streaming from my torn gums and bashed-up chin. Red mist clouded my vision. “That’s mine,” I said, wrenching the bumper out of the second draugr’s grip. In such close quarters it wasn’t going to do me much good, so I discarded it and came up swinging with my left hand.
My Mjolnir tattoo might not have punched through the brute-force sorcery animating a draugr, but Grendel’s claw didn’t need to. I brought my hand up vertically and perfectly flat, like an upward karate chop, and caught draugr right in the center of the sternum. The tips of my fingers sliced through bone and tissue like a knife blade, bisecting its sternum, punching through the top of its spine, and then slicing its entire skull perfectly in half.
The draugr disappeared in a scattering of dust.
I stumbled through the cloud, coughing in the remains, and managed to take a second to get my bearings. I looked up to find that a pair of pickups had pulled up to the crash while we’d fought. Imps had piled out of them and now stood at a safe distance to watch. Among them was Kappie Shuteye, grinning from ear to ear at my blood-covered face.
The other draugr was limping toward our crashed cars and holding its shoulder. My Mjolnir tattoo must have done more damage than I’d thought. The fiend glanced over its shoulder as it crossed the ditch and, though it had no eyes, its body language betrayed a wariness that hadn’t been there before.
I wasn’t sure if the draugr had some kind of weapon in the car it meant to retrieve or if it planned on escaping to fight again another day. I had no intention of letting it do either. I snatched up my bumper and sprinted after the draugr. I jumped the ditch just as it reached the driver’s side of its car. Swinging the bumper up and over my shoulder, I brought it down in the middle of the draugr’s skull.
I was, to be honest, more than a little shocked when he didn’t disintegrate immediately with such a powerful blow. His skull bounced off the hood of his car and twisted around, hanging on to the spine by a few willowy sinews. Head on backward, the draugr hissed at me.
Mjolnir flared. I put my right fist through its teeth and watched it fade to dust.
I staggered forward, seeing double for a moment, and leaned on the hood of the car. It took a few moments to clear the blurriness from my vision, and when I did, I saw Kappie standing out at the front of his imps, chuckling happily to himself.
“We heard the car crash and came to see what happened,” Kappie said.
I pointed at the car. “You have anything to do with this?”
“That? Not me,” he said. He was so pleased with himself that I wanted to put my fist through his teeth. In fact, I was struggling not to. This close on the heels of a fight, the haze of troll berserker was still trying to gain control of my mind. All the hate and revulsion I felt for Kappie wasn’t helping things. My hands balled instinctually into fists, my tusks aching as I tried to get them to retract.
You all right, big guy? Maggie asked cautiously.
I fought with my base, violent instincts. Is he lying? I finally asked.
No. All truth. He had nothing to do with this.
Kappie walked over to me slowly, twirling his cane, and gave the crash site—and then the grass where I’d fought the two draugr—a considering glance. His eyes settled on my tusks. “How powerful of a necromancer did you piss off?” he asked.
I blinked a couple more times. The berserker haze finally began to clear. “What are you talking about?”
He tapped his cane on the thin layer of dust on the concrete. “Draugr will rise multiple times if the summoner is powerful enough, and those guys looked like they’d already been killed once.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I really didn’t. I was finding it hard to think through the stiffness, the bleeding, and the sudden onset of a screaming headache.
Kappie continued to grin. “If reanimated by a strong enough necromancer,” he said slowly, as if explaining to a thick child, “draugr can’t be killed. Destroy them, and they’ll reform in their graves. You have to put them down for good.” He pointed his cane emphatically at my chest.
I pushed it aside and staggered to my car, where I searched among the broken glass for my phone. It was, thankfully, undamaged. Is he right about the draugr thing? I asked Maggie.
Uh, yeah. Yeah, he is. She sounded awfully sheepish.
I narrowed my eyes. You knew about this?
I didn’t think he was that powerful! she protested.
I sighed and dialed 911. “I’m calling the cops,” I told Kappie. “Unless you guys are gonna give witness statements…” The imps were all back in their cars by the time someone answered the phone. I took a step back, reported the crime, and then stood there, staring at my twisted wreck of a truck while I waited for the cops to arrive.
Uncanny Collateral Page 7
