Petrified

by Ben Meeks

  “Looks like someone’s here,” I said to myself, spotting a Subaru in the driveway beside Holt’s Honda. I pulled the truck in line and got out. Halfway up the steps, I noticed the door was cracked. I stopped before going inside and listened. I could hear a motor running somewhere inside but nothing else. No movement or footsteps. If Cearbhall was inside he was staying perfectly still. Then again, maybe there were still some demons hanging around. Petra seemed to have a lot of friends from what Hob said.

  I made the change to krasis and pushed the door open with my foot. Stepping inside, I found the living room trashed. The couch was the only thing in the right place. Everything else had been tipped over, tossed, or lost. That’s when I smelled it, demon stink. Not fresh stink either, the kind of stink after they have been dead for a couple days, like the snakes outside in the truck. No doubt if any live demons were still around they already knew I was here, so there was no point in being quiet.

  “Cearbhall, you here?” I called.

  There was no response, no movement, no sounds at all except the strained hum of the motor coming from the kitchen. I followed it to find the kitchen in the same state of disrepair as the living room. The refrigerator had been tipped and was leaning against the counter with the door open. Luckily there wasn’t anything in it but some ketchup and a bottle of pickles, both of which had been dumped out on the floor. Its motor strained impotently, trying to maintain the proper temperature. Broken dishes crunched and cut my feet as I crossed to the fridge. I leaned forward over the busted condiments grabbing the shelf in the fridge door. I pulled it up to close it and revealed a hell hound on the floor behind it. Startled, I let go of the door and fell back into the rubble. The door swung open, hitting the beast in the head. From my new vantage point on the floor I could see that the hound hadn’t moved. I got up and stepped forward gingerly, peering under the door.

  The demon was clearly dead. Its body had claw marks but Holt had finished it off by ripping its throat out. I reoriented the fridge and closed the door, muffling the noise. Stepping over the hound, I continued my search of the kitchen. The only thing intact I could see was the sink of dirty dishes Holt had still not bothered to clean. I wondered if Petra knew they were a sore spot from Naylet’s memories and left them on purpose, or just missed them somehow. I did my best to step around the chairs and broken flatware littering the kitchen floor as I moved to the hallway leading back to Holt’s room. It was relatively clear, as there had been nothing in it to begin with. I moved slowly, on guard, listening for anything.

  I could smell the sweet copper of Keeper blood from the hallway. I took a breath to prepare and moved into the room. I half expected to find him in his chair facing the TV like I had seen him many times before. A couple steps in and I could see the writing on the wall. Scrawled in Holt’s blood was written: RETURN HER. I touched the H and pressed it between my finger and thumb. It was dry.

  I was about to head to my room when I heard footsteps coming up the front steps and inside. I moved as quickly and quietly as I could around the random debris, stopping at the corner just out of sight of my mystery guest. I popped out, intending to use the element of surprise, but instead found a fist speeding toward my face. Too late to block, my only recourse was to move with the fist to reduce its impact. As it contacted, I used the momentum of the spin to whip my tail toward the intruder and felt it impact. A second later a stabbing pain shot through my tail. I looked back to see Cearbhall with my tail in his mouth. He was in krasis, his large wolf jaws easily wrapped around my tail.

  “How did you beat me here?” I asked.

  He spit my tail out. “I guess you still drive like an old lady. Besides, I know some shortcuts.”

  Bound to the gray wolf, he was as imposing as I remember. I had forgotten how intense his stare was in krasis, missing an eye seemed to amplify its intensity more than two-fold. He’d sustained that injury long before me and had always refused to talk about it. I couldn’t help but wonder, why couldn’t I have been joined to an animal with a little more street cred? Otters just don’t demand respect the same way some other predators do. Even Holt, bound with the Doberman, while not traditional, demanded a certain respect.

  Cearbhall stretched and rubbed his jaw. I couldn’t help but feel a little proud that the strike had bothered him that much—he wasn’t one to acknowledge pain openly. “I followed a demon trail into the woods and turned around when I heard someone pull up. This is definitely where your apprentice was taken from. He killed at least one before they got him,” he said. “He was your responsibility. You were supposed to be looking after him.”

  “I guess I’m still a disappointment. Good to know some things never change. They found the detective’s car, so if you don’t mind I’m going to go help him,” I said.

  I didn’t wait to see if he minded and went into my room for a change of clothes and a new pair of shoes. I changed back to human form, picked something to wear that I didn’t care if it got ripped up, and grabbed a change of clothes just in case. I found Cearbhall, also in human form, waiting by the door. I heaved the hound from the kitchen over my shoulder and went outside, leaving him alone in the house.

  “Hold on, I’m coming with you. In fact, why don’t you let me drive? We’ll have more room than in your Honda,” he said.

  “You know that’s not my Honda,” I said without turning around. “You really want these demons in your car?”

  “It’s not mine, it belonged to those hunters from last night.”

  “I’ll take the truck. You can do whatever you want,” I said.

  I wasn’t thrilled about driving around in what was essentially a stolen car, especially with a demon in the back. I put the hound in the back with the bag of snakes and covered it all up with a tarp. Cearbhall joined me in the truck and we headed to the apartment complex.

  “So what’s with the message on the wall of your house?” he asked.

  “As far as I can tell, Petra feels some kind of connection with Naylet. She tried to get her from me the other night when we fought. She doesn’t know where I’ve hidden her. I guess she wants to get her back,” I said.

  “That’s good,” he said. “It gives us something we can use against her.”

  I didn’t like the idea of using Naylet as bait or some kind of bargaining chip, but he was right, if leverage was needed, she could provide it. I would save that for a last resort.

  “I just need a little time to figure out how to get her back to normal. There has to be some way to do it,” I said.

  “What did Hob say?” he asked.

  I paused before I answered. “Nothing promising.”

  “You need to remember the bigger picture. Petra is going to be hunting, and since she knows everything Naylet knew, anyone close to you could be in danger, not to mention the humans. There’s potential for a lot of people to get hurt here, and that’s without Thera nuking the region. You might want to come to terms with the idea that she’s gone and focus on what you can do to stop Petra,” he said.

  “I’ll stop Petra and get Naylet back. Wait and see,” I said. “Was Livy okay?”

  “She was fine. I moved her to DeSoto Falls. It’s a safe place,” he said. “I hope you’re right about Naylet, I just don’t see it. Try not to worry, Obie, we’ll get it straightened out.”

  I looked out the window. “Who said I was worried? I know you find it hard to believe but I have the situation under control.”

  “If that were true then I wouldn’t be here.”

  What could I say to that? He’s right. I didn’t have to tell him though. Better to say nothing than swell his ego any further. With any luck Petra would be at the apartment and we could put an end to this, but then again, if I killed Petra today, would that mean Naylet would be lost? I might need to find a way to pull her out of Petra before I killed her. I needed more time, time I might not have.

  C H A P T E R • 18

  “You don’t really notice how clean the air is up here until you’ve be
en away,” Cearbhall said, breaking the silence.

  “Yeah, must be nice to be back,” I said.

  “So, what do we know?”

  “Not much, really. Petra took a baby in Alpharetta a few weeks ago and attacked Naylet yesterday. I found a stuffed bunny at the kid’s house with some weird perfume on it. It’s rolling around in the floorboard there,” I said.

  He retrieved it, stuck a finger on the discolored spot and gave it a whiff. “People used to do this in the old days. They made perfume out of oil and spices. I haven’t seen this for a long time. This demon has been around for a while if she knows how to do this.”

  “We don’t know about her whereabouts except that she was meeting with a pastor, Steve Heck, who wouldn’t give her up and died in a house fire. She has a grimoire that she was copying pages out of to give to him. He was being trained to summon. I found a note in his office that said P.V.T. Moca, GA. Steve referenced P.V.T. in his blog as well. I’m guessing the ‘P’ stands for Petra so that should be the initials of the name she is going by, at least for now. The only clue as to her location is ‘Moca’, have you heard of it before?”

  “Never. If neither one of us has heard of it it’s probably not a city. Could be a code for Starbucks for all we know,” he said.

  “Steve’s widow probably knew but I found this note at his house,” I said, fishing the letter and scrap of calendar out of my pocket to hand it to him. “I think she is the one who wrote it on the calendar judging by the handwriting. See? Same handwriting. The kicker is, the Tortured Occult found Farwell’s car in front of her building. That’s the apartment complex we are headed to right now.”

  We followed what seemed to be an unnecessarily winding road leading to the apartment complex, only to be stopped short by a gate.

  “Humans love their false sense of security,” Cearbhall said. “Park and walk in?”

  I spotted a car coming up behind us in the mirror. “We’ll scoot in behind this car.” I pulled into the guest entrance and started hitting the buttons like I was looking for someone.

  The car pulled up and the young woman driving scanned a card. When the gate opened I pulled up quickly behind her and we drove in before the gate could close. The complex was made up of two-story buildings set in large rectangles, with parking and green space in the center. We found building seventeen on the lower level, tucked away to the side. Hank, Fisheye, and Razor had their motorcycles parked on the opposite side of the parking lot. They lounged on the bikes while Hornet sat in a van beside them, watching the building. I pulled into an open space, biker adjacent, and killed the engine.

  “What’s the word?” I asked through the open window.

  “It’s been quiet,” Hank said. “No movement, the car is right there in front of the building. Haven’t gotten close enough to check it out, but it looks empty and undamaged from here.”

  “Wait here, I’m going to get a closer look,” I said, getting out of the truck.

  I crossed the parking lot to Farwell’s car and looked in through the windows. Nothing looked out of place and there was no visible damage to the interior. I tried the door, it was unlocked. I found a few spots of dried demon blood on the headrest, and the entire thing smelled like Petra’s perfume. The keys were in the ignition. I grabbed them and went back to where everyone was waiting.

  “She’s here, or at least she was. First priority, let’s get Farwell his car. Hank, can you have someone detail it and return it to him as quick as they can, please?” I asked. “I’ll cover the cost.”

  “Prospect,” Hank said.

  “I got it,” Hornet said, getting out of the van.

  I tossed her the keys with a nod. She walked over to the Explorer, got in, and drove away.

  “It’s your territory. What’s our play?” Cearbhall asked.

  “We don’t know what we’re dealing with. We’ll keep someone in the front and send one to watch the back, the rest of us will go in. If anyone wants out now is the time,” I said.

  “Fisheye, head around back, Razor will stay up front. We’re ready when you are,” Hank said.

  “All right,” I said. “Then let’s go.”

  Cearbhall, Hank, and I crossed the parking lot as the two bikers took position. Approaching the door to apartment 1703 I put a finger over my mouth, signaling to my companions, and put my ear to the door.

  Inside a rhythmic tick-tick repeated over and over. I couldn’t place what it was coming from; if it was a clock it would have to be the loudest in existence. The knob turned freely and I opened the door slowly, the ticking becoming much clearer. The smell of blood and the spices of Petra’s perfume filled the air. I moved in quietly, not wanting to announce our presence, just in case. The door opened to a kitchen on the right, with a dining area to the left that spilled over to the living room. The ceiling fan was broken, and hanging lopsided from the ceiling, throwing it out of alignment, making it tick with every rotation. Cearbhall and Hank came in, closing the door behind them. We gave each other a nod and made the transformation to krasis.

  I couldn’t have picked two finer people for backup; Cearbhall with centuries of experience and Hank, huge, fearless, and strong as, well, the bear that he was. I couldn’t say if we were heard coming in or if it was the sound of the Velcro on my pants I pulled apart before the change that alerted them, but no sooner had I finished my change than two large hounds burst into the kitchen and attacked. Being the first in, I was knocked down with one on top of me, sinking its teeth deep into my arm and shaking violently like a dog with a toy. Pain shot up my arm as I tried to position myself to gain the advantage.

  A loud clap rang out. The hound let go of my arm and was lifted off of me. Hank had sunk his claws into its sides and lifted it effortlessly over his head. It screeched and squirmed, scratching the ceiling and sending drywall and blood cascading down around me.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yep,” I said, rolling out of the way and getting to my feet.

  When I was clear, he slammed the beast down onto the linoleum. The building shook from the impact but the hound was still. Cearbhall had dealt the other hound a mortal wound and had it pinned to keep it from biting anyone as it bled out.

  “Go ahead, I’m right behind you,” he said.

  I rounded the corner into the living room to see Petra exiting through a back door onto a patio. She clutched a book to her chest and had the imp with a gimpy leg on her shoulder. She slammed the door behind her when she saw me.

  “Find Holt,” I shouted as I chased after her.

  I pulled the door open and ran out into a small screened-in porch just as Petra jumped through the screen and over the railing. The apartment backed up to the woods with a two-story drop. She flew off, weaving around the trees, carrying the book and imp away. Below, Fisheye had taken off after her. Not content to be left out, I leapt off the balcony through the hole in the screen, landing hard on the ground below.

  When I caught up to Fisheye he was busy stomping out a fire on the forest floor under a large oak tree. Petra had landed on one of the upper branches out of reach. The imp had busied himself throwing little fireballs. They weren’t large enough to do any real damage beyond starting a small brushfire. Petra stood with her wings stretched out, the significant wingspan making her look much larger than she was. The bald head was replaced with bulbous scabs where the snakes had been the day before. One of her wings looked to be a little crooked.

  “Where is she, Obie?” she asked.

  “Who, Candice Heck? How should I know, we just got here,” I said, looking up at her.

  She scowled. “Not that incessant do-gooder. Naylet.”

  “Somewhere safe,” I said.

  “I will find her,” she said, looking down her nose at me. “It’s just a question of how many of our friends get hurt before I do.”

  Calling people she’s about to kill “our friends”, and the way she spoke to me last time, told me she thinks of people the same way Naylet did. Maybe she
even considers me her cupitus. The difference is this demon clearly lacks Naylet’s compassionate nature. Petra will hurt anyone that gets in her way. The imp tossed down another fireball that landed a couple feet to my left, and Fisheye went to work on it right away.

  “You want Naylet back. I want your grimoire, and there’s no reason for anyone else to get in the middle of it. Let’s make a deal,” I said.

  “Are you proposing a trade? I don’t have any reason to bargain. I will get what I want either way,” she said.

  “Maybe, but how long will it take? You’ve lost the advantage. I didn’t fully understand this situation before, but I do now. As soon as I leave here, Naylet will be gone. You won’t be looking for her anymore, you’ll be looking for someone that knows where she is hidden, and I’m not even going to know myself,” I said. “I’ll arrange someone to make arrangements with others I don’t know to make other arrangements. It will take decades, even centuries, for you to track her through a labyrinth of acquaintances—if you can do it at all. To be sure, you’ll have to absorb them all. Are you up for that?”

  “I won’t trade the book for her,” she said. “And I can live forever. It will be an inconvenience, yes, but I will have her if I choose.”

  “If not a trade, then how about a duel. We fight to the death, winner takes all,” I said.

  She glared at me through slanted eyes. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “Have I ever lied to you before?” I asked.

  She paused to think about this which is exactly what I was hoping for. I never needed to lie to Naylet, she knew who and what I was and our relationship wasn’t the sort where secrets needed to be kept.

  “An intriguing offer . . . The two of us together, like old times,” she said.

  I held up three fingers. “The three of us. I want Cearbhall in on this.”

  “I will need a day or two to prepare.”

  “What do you need to prepare? I could tell you where Naylet is and just finish it now.”

  “I have to fix my hair,” she said. “Two on one isn’t a fair fight without my snakes.”