by Devin Hanson
“Now I’ve seen everything,” Sam shouted at me over the roar of the crowd. “How is that even possible?”
I thought I knew. The bearded contestant had to be the Nephilim. And not just a Nephilim, he was a lilin, a son of Eisheth, the Succubus of Gluttony. I watched him look around at the other contestants with the sort of proprietary air of a lord entertained by the exertions of his subjects. Holding court, indeed.
The award ceremony went on for another fifteen minutes, with the bearded contestant presented with an oversized cardboard check for an even two grand. Not a bad payout for five minutes of effort. The event broke up after that, and I lost sight of the bearded contestant.
Sam, who was taller, reported him heading into the Sizzler.
“He’s going to eat more?” I asked, scandalized. “I could see his stomach was distended after those tacos.”
“What’s the plan, then?” Sam asked.
“We’re going in. I have to talk to him.”
“Hopefully there’s room,” Sam said doubtfully. “All these guys are going in to eat. The restaurant is going to be packed.”
“I have a feeling we’ll be fine. Come on, flash your badge and let’s skip the line.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to use my badge to eat. That’s not ethical.”
“We’re not just eating, remember? We’re here to interview a potential informant.”
He sighed, but nodded. “Okay. Fine.”
Skipping the line was exactly as much fun as I had imagined it would be. Hundreds of overweight Sizzler regulars looked on us in outrage, but could do nothing but mutter amongst themselves as the attendant at the door nodded and stepped aside, letting us enter.
Inside the Sizzler was jam-packed. The lobby and area around the buffet tables was a sea of slow-moving, lumbering flesh.
“I’m going to slip through and see if I can find our guy,” I told Sam.
Without waiting for him to answer, I darted through a gap between two shambling behemoths. I worked my way through the shifting obstacle course of hungry diners, trying to hold my breath as much as possible. I’m not hard on fat people in general; I understand the difficulty of restricting your diet and forcing yourself to exercise. And once you start to go out of shape, its twice as hard to get it back again. But come on. Most of these people were carrying enough extra padding that their rolls had rolls.
It was a select crowd. These people were here, drawn to the Nephilim. It was the same as if I had set myself up as a regular at a strip club; I would pull house-limit crowds every time I was scheduled to perform. Today at Sizzler was the equivalent for the bearded man.
I’m pretty sure the regulars I would pull in wouldn’t smell any better than these gluttons. There must be something about discarding your self-motivation in favor of becoming obsessed with a sin that led to poor hygiene.
I spotted the bearded contestant in a corner booth. He had an older woman at his side, a stiff-necked matron with a fixed smile on her face and a laptop on the table in front of her. Across the table were a pair of gluttons, identifiable by all the obvious physical signs.
The gluttons each had a tray of tacos in front of them, and they were eating them with a sort of enraptured pleasure. The Nephilim, for his part, was leaning back in his seat, chatting cheerfully with the gluttons. I was too far away to hear any words but I could read the inanity in his body language. This was the Nephilim feeding. He was gaining power just as surely as I did by having sex.
I watched for a minute from a distance. The gluttons at the table would finish their tacos, shake hands, then get replaced by the next pair. There was a member of the kitchen staff posted in the next booth, making tacos as fast as he could, pressing out fresh-cooked tortillas, laying them out on trays and shoveling filling onto them.
Once the gluttons finished their ritual feeding in front of the Nephilim, they went to join the buffet line, no doubt to re-enact their idol’s recent performance with cheap pizza and cherry jello. A line stretched out behind the booth to the milling crowd in the foyer. The Nephilim would be at this feast for hours to come.
“You found him, I see.”
I looked back at Sam and nodded. “Let’s go meet the winner, shall we? Let me do the talking and don’t interrupt, okay?”
“Your informant,” Sam agreed. “I’ll play by your rules.”
I waited until the current pair of gluttons were on their last tacos before I cut across the dining room and stopped next to the booth. The next pair of gluttons in line gasped in outrage. One of them, a beefy woman, stepped forward, pudgy hand outstretched to grab my shoulders.
“Stop.” The Nephilim’s voice had a pleasant timbre, deep enough to be masculine without being gravely, and carried enough weight of command to halt the woman in her tracks. He spoke with a Scottish accent, or maybe British, I could never tell them apart. “You will have your turn. Please back up and give us some privacy.”
Disgruntled, the woman returned to her friend and together they scooched back a few feet. In the crowded dining room, the ambient noise was loud enough that our conversation would be impossible to eavesdrop on.
“You must be Alexandra,” the Nephilim said with a smile all but lost in the bushiness of his beard. “Have a seat.”
I got into the booth and slid over to make room for Sam. “You have me at a disadvantage,” I said.
“I am Beard.” He smiled again when my eyes flicked to his beard. “It’s not my name, but it is the public persona I use.”
“Fair enough. This is my associate, Detective Friday. You can speak freely in front of him.”
“Detective?” Beard’s eyebrows quirked up. “Am I in trouble for something?”
“Not at all. Sam and I were in the neighborhood on an unrelated matter, and I brought him for lunch. Congratulations on your victory, by the way. That was quite a show.”
The waiter set trays of tacos down in front of us and retreated to start working on the next batch.
“Thank you. Eat!” Beard gestured at the food. “On the house.”
I caught Sam’s arm as he reached for the food. “Thank you, but we’ll eat after our discussion.”
Where my introduction of Sam barely got a reaction out of Beard, this set him back and he looked at me with renewed attention. “Okay, Ms. Ascher. What can I help you with?”
“I’m looking for Mahlat.”
Beard turned to the woman at his side and whispered something to her. She folded her laptop up and slid out of the booth, leaving the three of us alone. Once she was out of earshot, Beard leaned forward and dropped his voice so it was barely audible. “I know of no Mahlat.”
“We both know that isn’t true,” I said frankly.
“Are you here on House business?”
“Why would I be? You haven’t taken the oath, have you?”
Beard leaned back and shrugged. He was the picture of indifference, but there was a tension in his shoulders that belied it. “Of course not. I enjoy living, thank you very much.”
“Then there isn’t anything to worry about.”
“You’re young,” Beard shook his head. “There is a lot the House doesn’t approve of.”
“Is aiding and abetting one of those things?” I asked.
Beard’s forehead furrowed as he frowned down at the empty plate in front of him. “I have no idea what you’re referring to,” he said.
“Fair enough. Maybe you could help me with something else then. Do you know where I can find Steven Martin?”
He looked at me for a moment, then nodded down at his plate. “Do you know why I sit here with an empty dish in front of me while my followers eat?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“They have something, I have nothing. It makes them inherently uncomfortable. They eat faster to balance the scales.”
“That’s very Zen of you.”
“Thank you. Between us, I have something you want, while you have nothing I want. Because I am aware of the nature
of this balance, your pleas will not sway me.”
“Honestly, I was hoping you’d just help me find my mother pro-bono. Come on, what’d she offer you? A part in a porno? A new virgin to deflower every day for a year?”
Beard chuckled. “You should know better, Alexandra.”
I felt Sam shift next to me, but I ignored him. No doubt he had excellent advice on how to interrogate someone, but I wanted to do this on my own. I wasn’t going to get anything out of Beard if I didn’t find some way to destabilize him. I needed to prove to him that I had something he did not. I needed to convince him that betraying Mahlat was a better choice for his survival.
“Hmm. Maybe. What would Tovarrah do if she knew you were harboring a demon?”
Beard stiffened, his amusement of a moment before wiped away instantly. It was amazing what dropping Tovarrah’s name accomplished. To be fair, she had scared the daylights out of me two months ago as well.
“I have done nothing to warrant her concern. I do not appreciate being threatened.”
“Threatened? Who threatened? You pointed out my ignorance, I’m only trying to understand the House better.”
He glared at me and I abruptly remembered that Beard had been feeding on the crowd during the competition and more within the restaurant before I came along to interrupt him. I, on the other hand, didn’t have enough energy left over to fight off a single one of his gluttons. If Beard took offense and decided to throw down, it was going to go poorly for me. I hung on to my look of puzzled innocence and did my damnedest to sell it.
Beard relaxed finally, but he remained wary. “The House doesn’t do second chances and they only have one punishment.”
“They’d kill you for giving Martin a place to sleep for the night?”
“Martin didn’t need a place to sleep.” Beard gave me a leering grin. “He has Mahlat riding within. There is no woman in this city that could resist his charms.”
“Well, what’d you do that the House would kill you for?”
That gave Beard pause. I had trapped him into not only admitting that he had helped Martin, but that he had done something against the Red House’s rules of conduct. Something that the House would kill him for. It was only an implication, but I imagined Tovarrah wouldn’t much care.
“I see that I have underestimated you, Alexandra.” He gave me a wry half-smile. “Hubris. It has been so long since I have dealt with another lilin. You are indeed your mother’s daughter.”
I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the compliment, but I suppose it was deserved. “Look, neither of us wants any unpleasantness. You help me find my mother, and the only thing I’ll tell Tovarrah if I see her is how helpful you’ve been.”
“If Tovarrah knew your mother was Mahlat, she would strike you down, whether you had taken the oath or not,” Beard warned me.
“Yeah, well. Eisheth would be proud of you, too.”
He twitched then touched his forehead in a salute, acknowledging the point. “Okay, Alexandra. I’ll tell you what you want to know. But be very cautious. Mahlat is the eldest of her sisters and is more influential than you can know. She has been on Earth for centuries gathering power, both temporal and spiritual. If she pressures you into taking her oath, I will not guard you from the House.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“Very well. I gave her the location of a Satanist cult. It is likely you will find Martin there.” He gave me the address and I punched it into my phone.
“Satanists?” I curled my lip in disgust as I typed and Beard shrugged.
“They hold a feast for Eisheth every year. I have been the guest of honor several times.”
“Yeah, they also do orgies, but I’m not going to go participate.”
Beard’s eyes flicked down to my chest. “Maybe you should. I would join in for that.”
“Dream on, pal.” I nudged at Sam and he slid over to exit the booth. “Thank you, Beard. It’s only fair that I give you something in return. You should know there’s a ghoul in Los Angeles. It’s already tried to kill me twice.”
My news troubled Beard. His brows drew down and his gaze drifted toward the exit. “You are sure of this?”
“Unfortunately. If you know of a way to kill a ghoul, I’d be more than happy to hear it.” I worked my way to the end of the bench and stood up. “Come on, Sam. Let’s get out of here.”
“Wait, Alexandra.”
I stopped and turned back to Beard.
“There are no ghouls in the United Kingdom. There is too much water they have to cross.”
The two gluttons that we had displaced pushed past me and eagerly slid into the booth across from Beard. The waiter cleared our uneaten tacos and placed fresh trays in front of them. Beard gave me a last nod and turned his attention to his followers who were already digging into the offering.
I dragged Sam out of the restaurant, puzzling over Beard’s last words. Why would having to fly over the English Channel keep ghouls out of the UK? The flight certainly hadn’t kept the ghoul from crossing the Atlantic to get to America.
“I thought we were going to eat?” Sam protested once we were back out on the street.
“Not a chance. Not in there with Beard.”
“Okay, clearly there is a lot I don’t understand. Were you twisting that guy’s arm to follow your mother or this Martin guy?”
“Same thing.”
“And why can’t we eat at Sizzler?”
I stopped and eyed Sam. “Do you trust me?”
“What? Yes. Of course.”
“Good. We’re not going to eat in Sizzler because it wouldn’t be safe.”
Sam turned to look back at the building. “Are all those people in danger?”
I shook my head. “Not any more than they already are. Beard has his followers safely under control. It’s actually brilliant using a fixed amount of food for his ‘interviews’. It prevents overload.”
Sam stared at me for a long moment. “That’s why you didn’t let me eat the tacos.”
I shrugged.
He sighed and scratched at his head. “The more I learn from you, the less I like the world.”
“I told you that when we started.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think there’d be dudes who siphon the life out of people who like to eat!”
“What’s gonna mess you up later, is when you realize they might not even be gluttons if it weren’t for Beard.”
“Great. Now I’m not hungry.”
“Relax. We’re okay. People like Beard are one in a billion. Come on, let’s go find a salad bar or something and have a healthy, light lunch.”
Sam nodded reluctantly. “Okay. I can get behind that. What are you doing after we eat?”
“I was hoping you’d drop me off back at home. I have some Satanists to call on.”
He frowned. “You don’t want backup?”
“You’re a cop, Sam. You have more important things to do than help me find my mother.”
“Not if the only expert we have in this city gets herself sacrificed or something.”
“Touching, but you’re confusing movies with reality. Satanists are just people who want to live a life without religious oversight, for the most part. They aren’t any more evil than Beard is.”
“No ritual sacrifices?”
“They celebrate the seven sins as a way to throw off the restrictions of God, but it’s more along the lines of Thanksgiving than harvesting the still-beating heart of a virgin.”
“Well, at least you’re not a virgin.”
“Hah ha. Funny guy. If it really bothers you, I’ll take Ryan with me.”
“It would make me feel better.”
“All right. I’ll ask him.”
We walked in silence for a minute, then I gave him a little jostle with my shoulder. “How are you doing with all this, anyway? It’s a different world than what you grew up with.”
Sam considered his answer for a moment before responding. “I can’t say I’m happy wit
h it. But I’ve always wanted to protect people, and if this is the world we live in, this is the world I need to understand in order to do my job. If I shuttered myself from things that didn’t align with the safe and comfortable world of drugs and gang violence, what kind of protector would I be?”
“A good one,” I said sincerely. “But maybe not a complete one.”
Sam looked down at me, maybe to see if I was kidding, then nodded. “Thanks. But blind spots get people killed. If I’m going to be a cop, I’m going to be the best one I can.”
I smiled up at him. “You’re doing good so far.”
“How much more unknown can there be, anyway? At some point, I’ll know everything I need to know.”
I didn’t answer. I had grown up with knowledge of the supernatural, and it seemed like for everything I uncovered, there were three more secrets waiting to be discovered. It would be nice to finally have a complete grasp of the world we lived in.
Too bad that would never happen.
Chapter Thirteen
Sam dropped me off at home after we had our light lunch and I went in search of Ryan. I followed my ears to the garage, where I heard him banging around and the clatter of scrap metal being thrown. I stuck my head through the door and found he had rented a U-Haul pickup truck and had pulled it directly into the garage.
“Hey!”
There was a crash of metal falling, and Ryan stuck his head out from around the truck bed. “Alex, good. You’re here.”
“Yep. Here I am. What’s up?”
“Come over here. I need someone else to witness this.”
I shrugged and walked around to the back of the truck. Ryan had nearly filled the bed of the truck with junk. There was a handful of metal scraps left over, and as I leaned on the side of the tailgate, he scooped the last of it up and threw it into the truck bed.
“Done!” I said cheerfully. “Looks good.”
Ryan tugged his gloves off and threw them onto the tailgate. He gave me a look, somewhere between irritation and worry. “For the third time.”
“Hm?”
“This is the third time I’ve loaded the truck.”
