Seven Kinds of Hell

by Dana Cameron

  We walked to a breakfast joint that was open and inviting. As we sat, I was dreading the chitchat, the utter irrelevance of it all, and yet looked at the menu. My phone rang, a number I didn’t recognize.

  Even if it was the creeps with pointy teeth, anything was better than this awkward socializing and waiting for Sean to come to his senses. His movements were still a bit wobbly.

  “Yeah?”

  “Is this Zoe Miller?” The voice was almost familiar.

  “Who wants to know?” I cringed; not only did my defensive answer sound juvenile, it caught the attention of my two new friends. “I’m sorry. Who’s calling, please?”

  “This is Mick, the manager of Danny Connor’s building. He’d said you’d be visiting, right?”

  That’s where I recognized the voice, from moving Danny in. “What’s this about?”

  “There’s been a break-in, your…cousin’s?…place. It’s pretty bad.”

  “Is Danny OK?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean?” Panic rose in me.

  “Well, he’s not there. There are a few bloodstains, but he’s nowhere to be found. I called the police. They’re on their way. I figured I should call you, too.”

  Police? Bloodstains?

  “I’m on my way.” I hung up.

  “What is it?”

  I turned to Claudia. “An…emergency. My cousin’s place was broken into. They don’t know where he is.”

  “Should he be there?”

  “Yes. He’s not…there’re…bloodstains.” I felt dizzy.

  “Gerry, trouble!” Claudia said. “Zoe, we have a car. Did you walk, take the train?”

  “Walked.” The world was still spinning. Sean just sat there, looking confused, and that worried me.

  “Let us drive you. It will be faster.”

  I nodded dumbly, breathing regularly, trying to stay calm. This was not the time for the Beast, that was for sure, not in this coffee shop, not at Danny’s, not with these strangers, and Sean, and oh my God, police…“Thanks. I…I’m going to try Danny’s cell.”

  Nothing.

  Gerry threw a couple of bills on the table, smacked Sean on the shoulder, and we were off.

  Danny’s apartment looked as though Sean had been living there a year. Worse—my heart sank as I saw just how bad it all was. Whoever had been here was not interested in subtlety or secrecy. The way the place was torn apart—cushions eviscerated, curtains slashed, the refrigerator emptied and left open—told me the perpetrators had been as interested in intimidation as in finding whatever it was they sought.

  Hoping I was wrong, I pulled out my cell and dialed Danny’s number again. Almost too faint to hear, a Sousa march played, the one I always associated with Monty Python. I eventually found his phone down in the sofa cushions.

  “Your ears are better than mine,” the super said when he arrived. “I tried that, but couldn’t hear anything.”

  “I knew what to listen for,” I said. “Where did you see—?”

  But I’d found the answer myself, before I finished my question. Something drew me over to the office door, where a lurid splash of blood painted the wall.

  I felt drawn to it, when any other day I would have been out of there like a shot. It glittered on the wall, shimmering like living rubies, calling to me. The closer I got, the more the blood drew me in.

  I told myself that I didn’t actually touch it, but I was so close, it was as though I could see the individual molecules dancing, still struggling to live.

  “Zoe!”

  The shout startled me from my reverie. A gentle hand was on my shoulder.

  I looked up.

  Claudia was there. “You don’t want to contaminate any evidence the police could use.”

  I shook my head, a bit dizzy from the rich smell of the blood. “It’s Danny’s,” I blurted.

  “You don’t know that, Zoe,” Sean said.

  “Of course I—” I caught myself and shut up. Sean wasn’t disputing my assertion so much as trying to reassure me.

  Normal girls can’t identify who left a bloodstain by smelling it.

  “No, you’re right,” I said weakly. “I’ll try not to get ahead of myself.” I looked at Claudia, whose eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to anticipate the worst without knowing for sure,” I said.

  “No. But it doesn’t look good, does it?” she said.

  My eyes filled. “No.” A wave of empathy washed over me, and I was sure she understood where I was coming from. The blood was Danny’s; he’d been injured, and, if the streaks were any indication, he’d been taken from the apartment by violent force.

  Alive, a small part of me said, don’t lose hope. Danny’s still alive, I can tell.

  The cops came, and before I could ask myself how I knew he was alive, their questions overwhelmed me.

  I gave the cops my story about going to the drugstore and for coffee. I wondered how they’d feel about me inviting two strangers back to my cousin’s apartment—I was barely sure I understood myself. I didn’t want to discuss the creatures in the lot, but they didn’t seem to notice the Steubens were out of place here. They were the most chilled-out cops I’d ever run into, über eager to please, supportive, agreeing with me at every turn.

  It had to be Claudia, I thought. For a plain Jane, the cops did seem rather attentive to her. I shrugged. It didn’t matter. I’d take whatever help I could get.

  They took down notes, and for some reason, they were willing to start an APB for Danny. I always thought you had to wait forty-eight hours to report a missing adult, but maybe it was the blood. In my experience as a troubled youth, civilians didn’t get these kinds of helpful breaks.

  I didn’t care. Just help me find Danny, I thought.

  They left, eventually. Too soon and too late for my taste; they shouldn’t be talking to us, they should be looking for him. They shouldn’t be running off, they should be calling in the CSI guys to come and look for clues.

  I was glad Gerry seemed to be taking an interest in the apartment the cops hadn’t. He stared at the bloodstains and examined the floor around them. He spent more time on the busted door than the cops had, too, but as quickly as my hopes were raised, he dashed them by looking at Claudia and shaking his head slightly.

  What was she asking? What did he mean?

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, a “private caller” number.

  “Danny?”

  “I have your cousin, Miss Miller,” a heavily accented voice said. “You want him back, you do what we say.”

  “Who are you? What do you want?” I could barely get the questions out; I couldn’t keep the panic from my voice. Who would take Danny? I didn’t want to think my father’s people had found him.

  The Beast whispered from the back of my brain.

  “First, listen. Do not call the police back. We know they’ve left, we’ll know if you contact them again. If you contact anyone, it will be bad for you and your cousin.”

  “What—?”

  “I said listen.” The voice was stern, a rebuke. “I will not continue if you do not. Do you understand?”

  Dizzy with misery, I said, “Yes.”

  “You have information about certain…objects we wish to acquire. Artifacts of some antiquity. You’ve taken what I want, so now you owe me. You help me procure these items, Danny goes free.”

  Chapter 6

  I wanted to scream, “What do you mean? What do you want? You’re mistaken, you took the wrong person!” But I didn’t dare speak again, until the kidnapper had given me leave.

  I hated myself for that cowardice.

  “You have an object in your possession, one you stole.”

  I thought back, with a sudden flash of guilt and horror, to the figurine from the museum. How could he know about that? I’d forgotten about it myself.

  “I was told the figurine had gone to the museum. When I made inquiries, both you and it were gone. That artifact is similar to one owned by a collector,
Rupert Grayling, in London. His is in the shape of a woman with a shield and helm. I want both of them. You use yours as an introduction, or trip him on the way to the market, or break into his house—I don’t care how you meet him. But you must find a way to get his figurine, and bring that one and yours both to me. Use money, sex, whatever you think will loosen his hand. You fail, Mr. Connor dies. It may be that you do, too. It will be slow. It will be ugly. You leave tonight, in four hours. A ticket will be waiting in your name at the airport.”

  I knew absolutely that the caller was telling the truth. As crazy as this was, he believed everything he was saying. And I believed his threats.

  Then something about the caller…spoke to me. Not with his words, but something about his voice triggered something. I felt something akin to the Beast, and as he gave me directions—a credit card and a new cell phone were hidden in Danny’s bedroom—I found myself cataloging what I observed.

  The accent was Russian—he reminded me of a student I’d met from St. Petersburg a few years ago. The man sounded middle-aged, but he was younger than his voice suggested; a hard life, a vicious life, added gravel to his speech. He’d learned English in Europe. He was educated. He was a practiced thug.

  I knew two more things, as surely as I could feel the sweat running down my back, as surely as I could see my shaky handwriting as I copied down his instructions.

  I’d know him as soon as he was within one hundred meters of me. And…

  I’d obliterate him if I could. I’d leave nothing more than could be swept up in a dustpan.

  The violence of my response shocked me. Where there should have been fear was nothing but cold-blooded calculation.

  “Why me? Why Danny?”

  “You’ve proven yourself adept at stealing artifacts. Call it…a family gift. You have this talent, and now I’ve given you the motivation.”

  “How do I know you have Danny?” What did he know about my family?

  “Check your phone messages. I’m sending you proof now.”

  My next question surprised me. “What do I call you?”

  He laughed. (He’d had a rich lunch. He sounded congested, but he wasn’t out of shape—how did I know these things?) “For now, you may call me Dmitri. Call me when you arrive in London.”

  The absurdity and horror of what he was proposing suddenly shook me out of my dispassionate focus. “Wait, wait, I don’t underst—”

  The line was dead.

  Only then did I notice I was shaking.

  “Zoe, what is it?” Claudia crossed the room.

  I backed away from her. “I…someone…I can’t say.”

  “Gerry specializes in finding missing people. I’ve studied a lot of violent crime and criminal types. I know we can help you. It’s about Danny’s disappearance, right?”

  I nodded. “He said his name was Dmitri.” The entire story, in perfect order and organization, came spilling out.

  Under my relief at having someone to talk to came the question: Why on earth did I tell her? Why had I gone with them to the restaurant, then brought them back here? Claudia and her brother were exactly the kind of people Dmitri would not want involved in this. They would be all over this. They would cause trouble. They would involve the police.

  “How did you do that?” I asked suddenly. “Why did I just tell you everything, when doing that could get Danny killed? I don’t even know you, and somehow you…you get people to do things.”

  A light dawned. “Like the cops. When have they ever done anything close to what I wanted? When did I ever get treated so kindly, so efficiently? Something’s not right. You’re not right.”

  I looked over at Sean, who was sitting, a look of patient concern on his face.

  Patient? Sean?

  I recognized the feeling now. Why had it taken me so long? It was nearly identical to the one I’d felt in Salem and in the cemetery. This morning, in the empty lot.

  The whisper of other Beasts.

  Thing was, there wasn’t a crowd of werewolves and snake-men threatening me here. It was just Claudia and Gerry.

  But they were the same as the other guys, I realized. The same as me.

  I bolted for the door. Gerry beat me to it, blocking my exit. Jeez, he was huge. Bigger than Sean even, like a minivan.

  It didn’t matter. I was going to leave, even if it meant going through him.

  I wouldn’t have bet I could move him at all. I did, but only a little, so I shoved at his face. “What are you? What do you want with me? Why can’t you leave me alone?”

  Sean wasn’t sitting patiently anymore. He sprang up, lunged at Gerry.

  “Claud! A little help here?” Gerry grabbed my arms, held them with difficulty. He turned us away so his back was to Sean, who was trying to pull him off me. A few of Sean’s punches landed on Gerry’s head.

  I heard a growl from Gerry, sensed a frantic energy in the room.

  “Zoe, calm down! Sean, back off!” Claudia commanded.

  Sean sat again as if nothing had happened.

  The frenzied urge to fight drained out of me like sugar from a ripped sack. I sagged against Gerry. In its place was a sense of calm…and I knew that couldn’t be right.

  I jerked away. Not very effectively—it was like I had no will to do it—but I tried. I wrenched one arm loose and swung, smacking Gerry in the face.

  One eye was screwed up tight while Gerry tried to keep out of range of my flailing hand. “Shit! Claudia!” he bellowed.

  Claudia pulled my freed arm back, and then, my God, the bitch bit me.

  Rage filled me, only to dissipate almost immediately. I slumped down to the floor. Gerry let go reluctantly.

  Limp as a rag, calm as a pebble, I felt safe and inclined to listen to them.

  Didn’t mean I was happy. Somewhere in the back of my brain, something still me was furious.

  Must have been some kind of hypodermic, maybe some kind of contact poison, to make me think she’d bitten me. I didn’t remember getting drugs this good when I had a root canal.

  “You need to listen to us,” Claudia said.

  I saw fangs retracting.

  Fangs. I’d seen them in the mirror, once or twice. And most recently across the empty lot and in the cemetery. Now Claudia had them.

  More of my father’s people. Why hadn’t I felt the Beast in them before? Maybe the Steubens were better at disguising their nature. The others had wanted me to recognize them right away, and I’d been preoccupied with Sean there…

  It was one thing to think I was a werewolf, quite another when others kept appearing out of the woodwork.

  “You bit me,” I said. I looked at my arm and saw tiny puncture marks growing increasingly smaller, as if they were evaporating. I rubbed at the spot; there was no pain at all.

  “I couldn’t calm you down any other way. It’s important you hear what we have to say right now.”

  Then she…started to shimmer, blur. She changed.

  As she did, I felt the call of the Beast. I didn’t even try to resist; if the world was going crazy around me, being a wolf seemed like the best response.

  The air around me was filled with weirdness. I was sure my hair was standing on end, with all the energy—more than electricity—in the room. Adrenaline pumping, like I’d done a mocha with six extra shots. I was so jazzed up, I wanted to launch myself into orbit, tear the guts out of a bad guy, right wrongs, run forever.

  Emotions like I’d never felt rushed over me, and suddenly the Beast seemed like the best thing in the world. I felt like a force for good, me, who put the “difficult” into the “child” and the “troubled” into the “teen.”

  Not bad. Not dirty. Not crazy.

  In my wolfy shape, I couldn’t express this excruciating joy. I jumped, then rolled around on the floor, but then got hopelessly tangled in my clothing. I wuffed, trying to untangle myself.

  Way to diminish the moment, Zoe.

  Claudia, now a snake-lady, exchanged looks with Gerry, now a wolf-man.
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  She knelt down beside me. “Zoe, stay still. I’ll help.”

  My wolfy brain didn’t have room for the shame I usually felt at the Beast’s victory. It didn’t have room for the humiliation I might ordinarily feel having a stranger rearrange my human clothing over a lupine body. If I could just stay like this forever, I’d be happy. It was like chains had dropped away from my limbs.

  But Danny needed me. I tried to dismiss the Beast.

  No luck.

  I whimpered and tried again. Still no dice.

  A shimmer of light, a frisson of energy, and Claudia was human again. “Zoe, can you Change back to your skinself?”

  Crazy lady. What else could I be trying to do?

  “Gerry?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, Claud. She seems like she knows nothing at all.”

  He turned back into a human. And suddenly, so did I.

  “Know about what?” I rearranged my shirt and shrugged my bra back into place. I should have been angry, but whatever Claudia had done to me was sticking.

  “Anything about what you are, and how to control it.”

  “Um, no. Until a couple of days ago, I just thought I was out of my mind. I’m still not sure what’s going on. Care to fill me in?” These two didn’t remind me of what my mother had said about my father’s people.

  The Steubens exchanged another glance.

  “We haven’t got much time,” Gerry said.

  “I’ll keep it short,” Claudia replied. “Zoe, we’re Fangborn. That’s what it’s called. Vampires, like me, who clean blood and heal. We can also use our venom to make humans forget, and we tend to be very perceptive. And persuasive. Werewolves, like Gerry, whose power and speed help them track and fight evil. And oracles who have all sorts of powers, from precognition to telepathy to…just plain luck. Since the beginning of time, we’ve worked, mostly in secret, to protect humanity and eradicate evil; all the myths, all the popular culture—whatever you think you know—is wrong or at least deliberately misleading. There are lots of theories about how we came to be, but some call us ‘Pandora’s Orphans,’ the hope that was left in the bottom of the box when evil was let out. Whatever story you believe, we’re the good guys.”