Shadow of the Ghoul (Halfblood Legacy Book 2)

by Devin Hanson

  “What we were hoping for in your autopsy,” Sam jumped in, “was a suggestion on how to kill it.”

  Dr. Fenway sniffed. “It seems you figured that out on your own.”

  “That didn’t kill it, though,” I shook my head. “It will be back.”

  “If destroying the brain makes it unable to use the body, it is possible there is some aftermath of its use that can be discovered.” Fenway lifted her glasses and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’ll be impossible to tell with Mr. Tully; Detective Friday has disrupted any tissue clues that might have been there.”

  “Yeah.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe next time I’ll ask the ghoul nicely instead.”

  “I’d prefer there not to be a next time,” I rolled my eyes. “The best way to keep it from attacking more people is to limit its supply of usable bodies.”

  “We can’t go around shooting all the recently deceased in the head,” Lara said wryly.

  “No, but we can freeze them.” I turned to the ME. “Doctor, is there a way you could spread the word to keep all bodies on ice until we figure out what is going on?”

  She nodded reluctantly. “I will see what I can do. I’ll have to invent a credible reason. Telling my colleagues all newly interred bodies have to be frozen because a mythical monster is stealing them would only get me locked up in a cell with padded walls.”

  “Well!” Lara rubbed her hands together. “I’m glad you see things the way we do, Doctor. I was beginning to think I was crazy.”

  Fenway gave Lara a dirty look. “Don’t be so sure just yet, Detective. I have found that every unexplainable phenomenon has a reason behind it, if only we have the wit to find it. But, until that logical solution is discovered, I will do what I can to aid you.”

  “Thanks, I think,” Sam grinned.

  Chapter Nine

  The late morning sun felt good on my face and I paused with my head tilted back and my eyes closed to let the refrigerated chill of the morgue soak out of my skin.

  “Now what?” Sam asked. Lara had gone to get the car, leaving us alone.

  I sighed and looked at Sam. “How should I know? Until we know what the ghoul is doing here, there’s no way we’ll catch it until it picks up another body. If we’re just running catch-up, it’s free to do whatever it pleases.”

  “We’ve got that journal,” Sam said. “Once the analysts figure out what it is, that might give us a lead.”

  “Wait, you don’t know what it is?”

  Sam shook his head. “It’s all in code. The pencil-necks think there’s enough left to crack it, at least partially, but until they do it’s gibberish.”

  “Great,” I grumbled. “Well, maybe you could send what you have to me. I might see a pattern that wouldn’t be obvious.”

  “Yeah, good idea. I’ll shoot you an email with the photographs.”

  “Well, if there’s nothing else, I have an errand I need to run.”

  “You’re on the clock, remember,” Sam chastised me gently. “We’re paying you for your mad private eye skills.”

  I rolled my eyes. “This person might know more about the ghouls. I just have to butter her up first before she’ll spill.”

  “Oh. Well, butter away, then. Give us a call if you find out anything new.”

  Lara pulled up next to us and Sam waved before jogging over and sliding into the passenger seat. Lara flicked a casual salute at me, then they were gone.

  “Shit.”

  I really didn’t want to go back to the hospital, but now it looked like I didn’t have much choice. I hadn’t been lying to Sam. It was likely Tovarrah knew about the ghouls, or knew who I could ask. At this point, I needed answers. Last night I had been paralyzed—nearly killed—by the ghoul. I couldn’t keep playing fast and loose with it. Next time I wouldn’t be so lucky.

  I got back on my scooter and set a course for the hospital. Who knows. Maybe the rest of my afternoon would be peaceful.

  I found Steven Martin in a recovery room in the psychiatric wing. It wasn’t hard to get access. I told the nurse at the desk in front of the wing that I was here to see Mr. Martin and I was an associate of Tovarrah’s, and she let me right in. Didn’t even ask for my name.

  Steven was alone; at least, as alone as someone can be when they’re strapped to a bed a few paces from a thoroughfare. The door to his room had been removed, and not ten seconds went by without an orderly or a nurse going by.

  I stood in the doorway, wondering if I was doing the right thing. Should I even try to wake Steven up without Tovarrah present? In the end, I decided I hadn’t made the drive only to leave again, and dragged a chair into the room. I sat at the foot of the bed where I could see Steven’s face and leaned back to make myself comfortable.

  Steven’s arms were restrained with heavy leather straps around his biceps, probably because of the bandages swathed around his forearms. Nylon straps came out from under the covers and attached at the foot of the bed, presumably with the other ends secured around his ankles. Broad bands of nylon webbing went across his body at shoulders, chest and hips.

  He wasn’t going anywhere. It seemed overkill for someone who seemed to be in a vegetative state, but maybe they had been placed at Tovarrah’s request. A great deal of medical machinery was attached to him as well, monitoring everything from EEG activity to blood pressure.

  Steven didn’t look so good. His face was pale and waxy, his forehead damp with sweat. He looked like he was a few minutes away from death. From what I could understand of his vitals readouts, though, he seemed to be stable enough. And none of the nurses who glanced in occasionally seemed to see anything wrong with him.

  “What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Steven?” I asked softly.

  “Some would say he is merely trying to survive as best he knows how.” I looked up, startled, and saw Father Deron leaning against the door frame. “Sorry. Mind if I join you?”

  I shrugged and he stepped into the little room. He leaned over Steven and muttered a prayer under his breath before stepping back and folding his hands in front of him. He was wearing a formal cassock with an elaborately embroidered purple stole lain over his shoulders. A heavy wooden cross hung from his neck and a rosary was clutched in his right hand. A wide belt around his waist supported a thick bible with silver brackets on the spine and more hardware on the covers.

  “You look like you’re preparing for something, Father.”

  “When dealing with the Fallen, one must always be prepared.”

  “You’re pretty sure this is a demon possession,” I said with a wry smile. “Didn’t the Catholic Church officially denounce exorcisms?”

  If my jab bothered him, it didn’t show. “In the sixties and seventies, many priests who should have known better attempted exorcisms. A lot of people died from drug withdrawal and emotional fatigue. As it turns out, enthusiastic prayer is not a sufficient solution to opium addiction.”

  I laughed, then smothered it, unsure if Deron was telling a joke or not. He smiled with me, letting me know it was intended to be funny.

  “The edicts against exorcism were never directed toward trained exorcists. I have a writ that allows me to investigate and perform the necessary actions to protect the souls of those entrapped in the webs of lies that demons spin. Steven Martin was brought here specifically for this purpose.”

  “And it helps that this hospital is funded by the Church,” I said.

  “Naturally. I would not be welcome in Kaiser.”

  I grinned. I was starting to like this priest. “Okay, Father. Fair enough.”

  “How about yourself? Do you believe this to be a case of possession?”

  “Does it matter what I believe?”

  “Of course, Ms. Ascher. You seem to have some connection with Steven. You were able to reach him before, and Tovarrah believes you will be able to do so again. Without interaction, exorcism is not possible. You must be able to reach the soul of the afflicted through words and prayer, as it is ult
imately the victim that must provide the inner strength to expel his tormentor.”

  I frowned a little and stared at Steven’s waxy face while I dug through the tangle of emotions the priest’s words had stirred up inside me. I wanted to vehemently disagree. I had nothing in common with Steven. But, the more I thought about it, the more I suspected the priest was right. Not in the way he thought, of course. Steven and I couldn’t be more different physically, mentally and emotionally. We did, however, share a defining attribute.

  My mother.

  “To answer your question,” I said reluctantly, “yeah, he’s possessed.”

  He nodded as if he had known the answer I would give before I had. “You have had experience with possession?”

  I shook my head. “Not like this. I have encountered spirits, and even helped drive one out of a person once. But demons? No.” And certainly not a baroness of hell like Mahlat bat Lilith.

  “Really? I’m impressed. You must have strong faith to have accomplished that.”

  I eyed him. “I’m not religious.”

  “You… really?” He frowned at me. “But you believe in God.”

  “I know He existed. That doesn’t make me want to worship Him.”

  “Ah. You believe He has passed or moved on.”

  “Honestly, I don’t care one way or another. All I know is God isn’t around to correct His fuck ups. Without the possibility of response, what’s the point in prayer or worship?”

  “Some would say acknowledgment of His divinity and the grace of Creation is more than enough reason to honor Him through prayer and faith.”

  I shrugged, trying not to show my irritation. “Look, Father. I have nothing against the Church, but I’ve personal reasons not to worship.”

  He nodded peaceably. “Of course. Forgive me for pressing you.” He grinned a little. “Tovarrah did tell me not to waste my time with you, but I had to try.”

  “Speaking of, where is she?”

  “She had to deal with House business. She said she would be back in an hour or two…” he glanced at the clock in the hallway, “about forty-five minutes ago.”

  “You know of the House?” I asked, a little surprised.

  “Much of the Church is oblivious and happy to be so,” he said, “but I have had my eyes opened. I know of the djinn and what Tovarrah is.”

  “Huh. That’s… nice.”

  “Some days I feel blessed. Other times, I wish I had had more liking for growing corn. My life would be much simpler if I had stayed in Iowa.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” I brightened up a little as I had a sudden realization. The priest might be able to help me out with my mystery. “Say, Father. Do you know anything about ghouls?”

  “I’m assuming you’re not talking about zombies.”

  “Nope.”

  “Very little is known about them. They are servants of the…” he glanced behind him to make sure the hallway was clear, “vampires. Willing slaves, is what I heard. They act as guards and messengers, and operate in the sunlight where their masters cannot. Why? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  I shrugged. “I’m working on a consulting job for the LAPD. It came up.”

  “It’s unlikely to be a ghoul, then. They never leave the side of their masters. Some speculate they cannot.”

  “Maybe. The Pact is still inviolate?”

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “Well. Aren’t you the worldly one. Yes, the Church has paid the dues on time, as far as I know.”

  “That’s good to know.” I stared gloomily at Steven for a moment. “Any idea on how to go about killing a ghoul? Assuming that’s what it is?”

  “You can’t, is what I understand.”

  “Ugh. So how do you fight one?”

  Deron chuckled and shook his head. “Vampires are nasty creatures. Vicious, violent.” He bobbed his eyebrows at me. “Voracious.”

  I groaned.

  “You have to ask yourself, what would a vampire want to guard it while it sleeps during the day?”

  I shrugged. “Something equally nasty?”

  “Precisely. Thus, the ghouls. If there is a way to kill them, they’ve managed to keep it secret for the better part of four thousand years.”

  “Man, that is not what I wanted to hear.” I sighed.

  “You really think you need to kill a ghoul? In Los Angeles?”

  “Well, now I hope I’m wrong about it.”

  There was a cough from the bed and I snapped my head around to look at Steven. He had his eyes open and was looking blearily at me. “What is a ghoul?”

  I shared a surprised look with Father Deron. “Oh, Steven. You’re awake!”

  “Father?” Steven mumbled. “What’s happening?”

  “Steven, my son, I’m so glad to have you back with us.” Deron leaned forward and touched the back of Steven’s hand. He turned and gave me a satisfied look.

  “Where is Tovarrah?” Steven asked weakly. “I need to tell her something.”

  “She is out of the hospital for a short while,” Deron said gently.

  “Please.” Steven swallowed against a dry throat. “It is urgent.”

  Deron pushed himself upright. “I will give her a call. Stay with him, Alexandra?”

  I nodded and Deron left the room, digging through his cassock for his phone. Steven turned his head to watch Deron walk away, then switched over to stare at me. The groggy, pathetic weakness dropped away and he smiled at me. Cold fingers ran up my spine.

  “Hello, daughter.”

  I swallowed. “Mother.”

  Steven tried to sit up and the nylon straps creaked but held. He clucked his tongue and settled back as if he were relaxing on a beach. “I understand you’re having trouble with ghouls.”

  “You were listening the whole time?”

  “Of course.” Steven brushed at the covers fastidiously with the limited movement the restrains offered. “I am only occupying this creature, I am not subject to its pitiful physiological limitations. You do know why there is a ghoul in Los Angeles, don’t you?”

  “As far as I know, it’s not even a ghoul.”

  Steven gave a disgusted sigh. “You know better than that, my dear. You are on the cusp of great change in this world, riding the breaking wave of the new world construct. Don’t close your eyes to the machinations in play.”

  “Speak plainly,” I said irritably.

  “There is a way to destroy a ghoul. I could guide you through the chaos that is coming, give you the information you need to protect those who are close to you.”

  “What’s the catch?” I asked with an eye roll.

  “No catch.” Steven shook his head and implored me with his eyes. “In this, my interests align with yours. We would be allies, Alexandra.”

  “There is a catch,” I shook my head. “Your information isn’t given freely. You need me.”

  “I would rather not be stuck in this husk,” Steven said reasonably. “I but need a vessel to anchor me in this world. Is that too much to ask in return for invaluable information?”

  “You need a skull,” I nodded. I still had the carved skull we had used to temporarily imprison the archangel Zerachiel. The same skull, in fact, that Mahlat had resided in for decades. It was locked away in a floor safe in my house, surrounded by concrete and hidden under my bed.

  There was a moment where Steven’s gaze sharpened and understanding flashed across his face. “Ah. You were working with that houri trollop.” Brief hunger showed through before it was tamped down again. “It needn’t be that skull, but it would suffice.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I scoffed in her face. “You must be out of your mind. You’re a demon. There’s no way I would aid or abet you.”

  Steven nodded, unsurprised. “I regret being uninvolved in your upbringing. If you knew me better, you would understand that I am not malicious. I would be disingenuous if I suggested all of my kind were like me, but I have no interest in seeing the downfall of humanity or any of that nonsense. I
like humans. They are so full of life and the need to procreate. What would I do without them?”

  “And what of the lives you destroy through your influence?”

  “All I ever do is suggest, my child. It is in human nature to feel lust for one another. You have done the same yourself.”

  I shook my head. “I’m nothing like you. I don’t ruin people.”

  “Paul Becker would disagree.”

  “Who is that? I’ve never even heard the name before.”

  “He is an accountant for a law firm. Or he was before your Pinterest campaign drove him to distraction. He’s lost his job, his wife and daughter, his house, even his fancy car. One could say his life has been categorically ruined through his infatuation with you. You met him last night.”

  “Him?” My lip curled in disgust. “You’re trying to tell me that slob was a successful man?”

  “Oh, very. He made well into six figures a year. He had several million dollars saved up in bank accounts and in stocks. Forty years old and ready to retire. Would you like to know what he spent his wealth on?”

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  “As you pointed out, daughter, I am not mortal. Knowledge comes along with the lust they feel. I know all about Paul Becker, the same way I know about Sam Friday. He’s a tasty catch, isn’t he? Oh, don’t give me that look. You used the gift I have given you to save your life. There was nothing wrong with it. Lust isn’t a bad thing when it is controlled.

  “Paul Becker, though, was not able to control his lust. He spent hundreds of thousands trying to track you down. When that failed, he spent as much again buying the services of girls with your likeness. They were but feeble echoes of your allure, of course, and did not satisfy him for long. His wife discovered his excesses soon after and divorced him, taking most of his wealth with her.

  “He sold his house and moved to Los Angeles in an effort to locate you. After burning through the last of his liquid assets, he finally found you. Oh, the raw passion he felt when he recognized you on your scooter!”