by Debra Dunbar
Quack, quack, quack.
My phone. And I knew exactly what that ring–tone meant. “Sorry, so sorry,” I said as I shimmied free from all the hands so I could drop to the floor and scrabble for my purse.
“Amber.” Irix’s voice carried a stern warning along with the promise of punishment. I shivered in anticipation, but we’d have no time for that sort of fun. No time for fun with the woman I’d been kissing either. I planted a long kiss on the inside of her thigh in apology as I yanked my phone from the purse.
“Amber! If you don’t put that phone down right now, I’m going to take you over my knee and smack you so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week.”
So tempting. I stood and waved the phone at him. “It’s Ourson. They’ve caught someone.”
* * *
27
The light rain dampened my hair and caused my silk dress to cling to my body as we dashed from our street–side parking spot to the sex club. I hadn’t expected the vampires to take their captive to Bliss. Honestly, I hadn’t given much thought to what they’d do if and when they actually caught someone. I guess this was more private than questioning someone along the riverfront, and he or she would hardly be likely to escape from the vampire–owned establishment.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the scene that met my eyes when Eloise led us up a set of private stairs and into a room behind a heavy metal door. Ourson and Guy the Vampire Guy stood on either side of a bald, middle–aged man who looked like he’d been dragged through a field of sticker bushes behind a fast–moving pick–up truck. He didn’t seem very dangerous at the moment, duct–taped as he was to a chair. As a matter of fact, he kind of reminded me of my high school chemistry teacher, Mr. Wilcox. I felt rather sorry for him until I noticed the blood covering the front of Ourson’s shirt.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?”
“Stabbed me with a spelled athame.” The vampire shifted his weight and winced. “Another half an inch and you’d be scraping my remains off the levee path.”
My mouth felt dry, realizing how close my new friend had come to death. I was a college student, a botany major, and I was obviously in way over my head. How had this whole thing gotten so dangerous? What if someone had been killed?”
“Jordan and her friends, Raol and Frederick — are they all okay?”
Ourson’s lips twisted with grim humor. “They’re fine. I’m the only one who got skewered.”
“But it will all be for nothing if we can’t get this piece of trash to talk.” Guy the Vampire Guy smacked Chemistry Teacher across the side of the face, raising a red welt on the man’s pale skin and rocking his head to the side. Mr. Wilcox clamped his lips together. He glared at the vampire, but his bound hands trembled.
“Here’s what we found when we searched him,” Eloise chimed in, motioning toward a stack of boxes that served as a makeshift table.
I shook my head as I surveyed the odd collection of items, hoping someone else knew what they were.
“Blessed chalk, holy water, and a stone of invisibility.” Irix looked thoughtful as he sorted through the items. Unrolling a sheet of paper crammed with squiggly lines in some kind of dark–red ink, he raised his eyebrows. “Doorway to Hel scroll. That’s … odd.”
The tone of his voice indicated that a scroll opening a gate to the realm of the demons was far more than odd. I pushed aside a small, round, button–shaped item and picked up a polished six–inch dowel inscribed with more of the squiggly lines, this time burned down the side. “What’s this?”
Irix glanced at it briefly before returning his attention to the scroll. “Chicken wand — the smaller, more portable version. I know someone who would pay dearly for that. You might want to keep it.”
I wasn’t sure what the protocol was on who owned these items. Did we give them back to Mr. Wilcox? Were they the property of the vampires? Irix had a bent towards larceny, but I didn’t exactly want to follow in his footsteps when it came to that particular sin.
Eloise shrugged. “Keep the wand if you like.”
I nodded my thanks and tucked the small dowel into my purse. How did one go about brokering the sale of a chicken wand? And what the fuck did a chicken wand even do?
“It’s one way for one being,” Irix mused, still looking at the scroll. “I could see where this man may have one going the opposite way — for summoning a demon he’d contracted for a job, but no human would want a fast, portable exit to Hel.”
“You can have that one,” Eloise said, peering over his shoulder. “Not like any of us would want to go there.”
Probably not. Demons made unreliable allies, and Hel was filled with elves — their mortal enemies. “Maybe he stole it off a demon,” I suggested, thinking again of Irix’s bad habits.
Irix shot a quick look at the human in question. “He wouldn’t be the first, although humans who steal from demons usually have very short lives.” With a quick movement, he rolled the scroll and tucked it in the waistband of his pants. “Shall we help the vampires question their guest?”
We wandered over to Mr. Wilcox, who was looking worse for wear. A thin line of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth. All three vampires eyed it with interest, and I swear I saw Eloise lick her lips. Shit, we better get this show on the road before they got any hungrier.
“Who are you, and what were you doing at the levee?” I asked, unsure where to begin.
Mr. Wilcox swallowed hard a few times, his face white as the wall behind him. “John Smith. I’m a tourist from New Jersey. I was just taking a walk along the river.”
I sucked at this whole interrogation thing. Still, everyone seemed to be waiting for me to do something, to direct them. Even Irix held back, watching as if the whole scenario bored him. I’m sure he’d rather be back at his party. Heck, I’d rather be back at his party.
“At two in the morning?”
“I was out on Bourbon Street and wanted to sober up before going back to my hotel.”
He didn’t seem particularly drunk, although he did look like he was going to vomit any minute. “Carrying a bunch of magical items?”
“Like I said — I’m a tourist. I got them at one of the voodoo shops as souvenirs.”
“Right. Holy water, maybe, but the tourist shops don’t have scrolls to Hel, spelled athames or chicken wands.” Whatever the heck chicken wands were.
He looked up, eyes darting between me and the vampires. “I dabble in the occult. Last time I checked, freedom of religion was in the Bill of Rights.”
What should have been a wise–guy show of confidence was rendered null by a terrified stutter and short panicked breaths.
“Last time I checked, sabotaging the city’s flood defenses isn’t in the Bill of Rights.”
Mr. Wilcox dropped his gaze to stare at his lap. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Three sets of fangs came out, and Eloise glided toward the man, making clear her carnivorous intentions. Mr. Wilcox cringed, straining away as far as his bonds would allow.
“Go ahead. I’m not afraid of a little blood loss.”
The poor man could hardly get the words out, he shook so badly. He may have stabbed Ourson, but I still felt sorry for him. Heck, I’d shot the vampire in the balls with a jolt of electricity. Maybe there were extenuating circumstances here.
“A little blood loss?” Eloise drawled, her child–like voice somewhat lisping with her sharp fangs exposed. “There are three of us, and I’m particularly hungry. By the time we’re done, there won’t be a drop of blood in your body.”
“I’m not afraid of death either.” He clearly was afraid of death, but Mr. Wilcox lifted his chin defiantly. I could see that he intended to stand his ground, in spite of the vampire’s threats. A dead mage wouldn’t do us any good. He’d called Eloise’s bluff.
“Perhaps eternal life would motivate you to talk?” Irix asked softly.
It hardly sounded like a threat to me, but our captive gasped, struggling frantically against
the duct tape that held him to the chair.
Irix stalked toward the man like a cat creeping up on a mouse. “I’ll take my time, rip your soul from your flesh over the next few hours while the vampires lap up your blood.”
The vampires seemed in favor of this idea. I held perfectly still, wondering what Irix was talking about. How could the torture he was proposing have anything to do with eternal life?
“What is it you fear, human?” The incubus leaned over the chair, tracing a long finger across the man’s cheekbone. Mr. Wilcox shook, shutting his eyes tightly, but still not saying a thing.
“No matter. No need to tell me a thing. I’ll take your soul with all your thoughts and memories. Your secrets, the plans of your group, it will all be revealed.”
Irix placed a hand on the man’s cheek, and another against his chest. A glow surrounded his fingers. Mr. Wilcox cried out, and Irix gave a low laugh that held pure evil in its tone. Now it was my turn to shudder, reminded that the sexy, playful incubus had a dark side that made my own monster seem like a saint.
“I will know all — everything you fear, the nightmares that cause you to wake screaming, but there will be no more awakenings, no more relief from the terror. For all eternity, you will suffer with no hope of salvation.”
I watched in horror as drops of blood began to bead on the man’s skin. He screamed, convulsing, as Irix’s hands glowed with light.
“One more chance to change your mind, my friend,” Irix purred. “Are your friends really worth the torture you’ll suffer in my hands?”
The demon must have let up on what he was doing, because Mr. Wilcox’s eyes flew open with a gasp. “Stop. I’ll talk. I’ll tell you everything if you promise not to Own me.”
Irix smiled. It was one of the cruelest smiles I’d ever witnessed, and my stomach lurched at the sight. “I swear on all the souls that I Own, I will not claim you if you tell us everything. The truth — otherwise I am relieved from my vow.”
The man nodded, a drop of blood rolling down his forehead to hover at the tip of his nose. The glow around Irix’s hands faded. He stepped back, and Mr. Wilcox promptly puked.
Being duct–taped to a chair doesn’t give a person much room to maneuver, and our captive now had vomit down the front of his shirt and in a puddle on his crotch. Eloise wrinkled her nose in disgust, clearly put off her dinner by the sight.
“My name is Steve Mulligan,” the man said, spitting to clear his mouth. That wound up along with the vomit in his lap. “I’m an apprentice with the Great Order of Crimson Moon, New Orleans Chapter.”
Mulligan. I liked Wilcox better.
In spite of the fancy title of his magical order, apprentice didn’t sound very impressive. This guy had to know something, though, or he wouldn’t have been nosing around the levees loaded for bear with magical weapons.
“What was your purpose at the levee tonight?”
Mr. Wilcox hesitated, as though he was about to refuse to answer, but a quick motion from Irix wiped the color from his face.
“I make the rounds each night. A bunch of Wiccans messed up something we did in a bayou south of the city a few nights back. My job tonight was to check our spells along the levee, and report if any had been tampered with.”
“Are you the only one doing this?”
The man shook his head. “Three, sometimes four. There are a lot of spots, and they’re spread out. It would take too long for one person to check them all.”
“Where are all the spelled locations?”
He shot a nervous look at Irix and swallowed hard a few times before reciting a long list of locations. Three bayous, five sections of wetland closer to the gulf, the twenty spots along the levee we’d found, as well as twelve additional ones on levees along the canals and the lake, the dam, and two sea walls further south of the city.
Shit, that was a lot of locations.
“How long have you all been doing this?” There is no way any group, even with a sorcerer or mage helping, could spell all that in a few weeks. Crimson Moon must have been working on this project for a long time. And there was no way we could fix all that in the next few days. My heart sank. Even if we managed to capture all of Crimson Moon and their mage, the city would remain compromised until the spells were broken. I might need to miss my flight and drive home in Irix’s stolen Audi after all.
“Six months, although we began testing last year. The first spells weren’t very stable, like the one at the dam. They either went off early, or didn’t have the range of effect we’d hoped.”
From the twenty spells we’d found at the levee, and the damage to the cypresses, I hadn’t thought this was a casual endeavor, but I’d never envisioned the extent of their plot. The careful planning, the numerous locations — these people were serious about ensuring the success of their scheme.
“Who do you report back to?” I had the list that Ourson had given me and was hoping the name he gave me would match one on that list.
“Adelphia,” he replied promptly.
I wasn’t sure if he was lying or not. Who the fuck names their kid “Adelphia?”
“What’s their real name?”
He cast a nervous look at Irix. “All I know is that she’s a woman. None of them use their real names with me. Anyone initiate and above is robed or hooded in ceremony, and I’ve never met any of them outside our meetings that I’m aware of.”
How in the world were we supposed to crack a secret society if nobody knew each other’s names or appearance? Frustrated, I figured I’d at least ask the million–dollar question, although this guy was so low in their organization that he wasn’t likely to know.
“Why? Why would you want the city to suffer such destruction in a storm that you would spend huge resources and a year or more in planning?”
“We used to control the most powerful ley line in North America, but all the dams and levees have disbursed and weakened the energy. Nature and the ley line will recover if allowed to take their course. We have the skills to do great good with that power restored. It’s all for a greater good.”
Easy for him to say. I fumed, unable to imagine how anyone could justify the destruction of a major metropolitan area, including significant loss of lives, with some nebulous “greater good”. Plus the whole thing was breathtakingly overkill.
“That’s a lot of damage just to yank the ley line power away from another group.”
Wilcox shifted in his seat and dropped his chin to his chest. “Some of the spells might not work. We need to make sure the first hurricane brings success, or Bon Nuit will find a way to block future attempts.”
It still didn’t make sense. I could see them targeting a few bayous and the river levees to free up the Mississippi River, but what about all the other spots?
“Why put spells on the lake and canal levees? And the wetlands to the east of the river?” None of those breaches would affect the ley lines.
His gaze was just as puzzled as I’m sure mine was. “I don’t know. Maybe for diversions? All I know is that we want to get control of the ley line energy.”
What a bunch of assholes. They were willing to destroy property and risk people’s lives as a diversion? I was so lost in my angry thoughts, that I almost missed Mr. Wilcox’s next words.
“I’ve got no idea what the foreign guy wants though. We’re not paying him for his help. Personally, I think he’s got a different motive than the rest of us.”
“What foreign guy?”
“I don’t know who he is, but he’s the only one who doesn’t wear a hood or mask. Blond hair, almost white, with green eyes. He’s pretty tan, but, with that hair, I’m sure it’s spray–on. He’s a real jerk. Orders everyone around like we’re all slaves. I don’t think the elders would put up with him except he’s the most amazing magician we’ve ever seen. He’s truly gifted.”
Or truly elven trained, and doing it since before he was out of diapers. “What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. Everyone calls hi
m ‘Weaver’ because of the way his magic meshes everything together.”
I walked over to Irix. “A mage from Hel?”
He shrugged. “Or a demon. A mage would probably have the usual mercenary motivations, but many classes of demons simply enjoy destruction and death and wouldn’t ask for payment.”
“But Jordan said the magic didn’t match,” I argued.
“Maybe she was wrong. Maybe other demon’s energy doesn’t look the same as mine does. I just think we should keep all our options open.”
We. I really liked that I wasn’t in this alone, that Irix might consider this project to be just as much his as mine.
“I hope it’s a mage,” I muttered. “Although if it’s a demon, that angel might do the work for us.”
“Maybe. Angels sometimes arrive too late.” He fingered the scroll in his waistband. “And if Weaver has another of these, he may intend to be across the gates before the shit hits the fan.”
I looked at Mr. Wilcox, slumped in the chair, and wasn’t sure what to do next. “I don’t think he knows anything else. What should we do with him?”
It was a perplexing problem. I doubted the police would lock him up for checking magical spells. How loyal was he to Crimson Moon? If he told them about us, about the vampires and Bliss, all my friends would be at risk. This Weaver guy might not be above blowing up the club, or hunting down Ourson and his friends. Normally, I’d bet on Irix in a fight with just about anyone, but I didn’t know how powerful mages from Hel were, and if Weaver was even a mage. Incubi and succubi weren’t all that powerful compared to other demons.
“The vampires will take care of him.” Irix replied, already taking my arm as if to lead me from the room.
I didn’t like the sound of that one bit. I pulled away and turned suspiciously toward Eloise. “Take care of him how?”
Everyone in the room seemed confused by my question.
“What would you prefer?” Eloise asked, as if she were treading on landmines. She clearly didn’t want to offend me, but had no idea where I was going with my question.
“Well, I’d prefer we let him go.”
