by Devin Hanson
I wasn’t a human lie-detector, but I had developed a sense for when someone was telling the truth during my years as an investigator. Ryan wasn’t lying. “Really?” Something caught in my throat and I had to swallow. “You knew my… our father?”
“He taught me everything I know,” Ryan nodded seriously. “The same way he taught you, I imagine. But I have to know, Alex. Why were you scared in the church?”
I coughed out a laugh that was half sob. “That’s what you care about?”
“It’s important.”
“Fine. I was shit scared that the Satanists were forcing people to become possessed. I had to get you out of there so it wouldn’t happen to you too.”
Tension sagged out of Ryan’s shoulders and he bowed his head for a moment. “That’s good to hear. I had to make sure that you hadn’t accepted your mother’s offer.” He looked back up at me with a smile. “I’ve had a hell of a time finding you, Alex.”
I looked down at the axe in my hands and lowered it, feeling a little silly. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” I asked. I couldn’t keep the plaintive tone from my voice. A sudden wash of loneliness from years spent in the foster care system then an adult life without any really meaningful connections crashed over me and stung at my eyes. “Why didn’t you find me after father died? Why did you wait until now?”
“Can we go inside?”
I nodded numbly and went, absently dragging the axe on the ground after me. I had family? A brother? Ryan wasn’t blood, but that hardly mattered to me. Ryan followed me inside and we sat on the couch.
“You’re not going to use that on me, are you?” Ryan grinned at me.
“What?” I followed his pointing finger to the axe I still held and I dropped it on the ground like it was hot. “No. Sorry. I—truly, though? You’re my brother? Did father teach you everything he taught me?”
“Well.” Ryan rubbed at the back of his neck. “Not everything. I know about the djinn, he taught me about the monsters native to the Americas and some things brought over from the Old World. But I’ve never seen anything like that junk you have in your garage. Dad spent more time teaching me practical things rather than lecturing on mysteries. How to fight, how to protect myself, that sort of thing.”
“Do you know how to kill a ghoul?” I asked hopefully.
Ryan shook his head. “I’ve never seen one of them before. I know what they are, vaguely, but no details. Dad didn’t bother since the vampires stay out of America.”
“Oh.” It was hard to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with current events, but the vampires have every intention of coming here.”
“They do?” Ryan blinked at me, surprise on his face. “But the pact…”
“Is a four-century old document that offers the vampires a piddling drop of wealth every year. When it was written nobody really knew how big America was, and the vampires had no use for a few colonies scratching in the mud for survival. Things are changed now, of course. The vampires long ago realized just how much they lost through the pact. They’re like starving swine being held from a full trough by a fraying rope.” I shook my head. “The vampires are coming, no doubt about that.”
“Shit.” Ryan’s brow furrowed as he thought. “That’s bad. I’ve been out of touch while I served. More so than I had thought.”
“Why, though? Why did you go to the army?”
Ryan shrugged and smiled. “Where else can you get top-notch survival training and a comprehensive knowledge of modern weaponry? Dad could only teach so much without drawing attention.”
He had a point. I felt like I was brimming over with questions. Finally, I had someone I could talk to openly about the world without worry about what would happen to them. “You said I was adopted… That’s not what father told me.”
“No, he wouldn’t have. I remember when he found you. He couldn’t save Sandra, despite how hard he tried. I think he may have loved her, before the end. What was left of her human soul, that is.”
I swallowed and dropped my gaze to my hands twisting in my lap. With an effort I relaxed them and held onto my knees. “So, father took me in after I was born?”
“Both of your biological parents were dead. He hoped to raise you to have the same morals he did. He thought you would make a powerful ally in time. The Chapter wasn’t in agreement, necessarily.”
“The Chapter?”
Ryan hesitated, then rolled a shoulder. “The Fourth Chapter. It was founded in the sixteenth century by the Royal Society as a modern counter to the threats that lurk in the wilds and in the dark. My great, great… great, great grandfather was one of the founding members. You may have heard of him. Erik Van Helsing.”
“Van Helsing!?”
“Yes. Halsin is an Americanization of the family name. We’ve been monster hunters since before the Fourth Chapter was formed. You could say it runs in our blood. Some of the other members thought you would be too dangerous to allow to live. The Red House would certainly have killed you out of hand, so you’re lucky it was dad that found you and not the House.”
As much as I wanted to protest that Tovarrah would have more restraint than that, I knew it wasn’t true. Tovarrah was, if nothing else, a pragmatist. She was a curious mixture of optimism and pragmatism, knowing the futile nature of trying to rehabilitate the possessed, but still believing it could be done despite everything. Perhaps it was that knowledge of inevitable failure that made her even more defensive of the few souls she could save.
“Maybe you’re right. After father died in a car accident, I’d always assumed there was nobody else around like me.”
“Car accident?” Ryan huffed a sour laugh. “Dad was assassinated. Who told you it was a car accident?”
I stared at Ryan, my mind too full of unprocessed information to come to grips with this new piece. “The. Uh… social worker. Assassinated?”
“Dad killed monsters for a living,” Ryan explained impatiently. “He never thought he would die in bed.”
“Who killed him?” It was the only question I could think to ask.
Ryan shook his head. “Nobody knows. Dad had enemies, and it eventually caught up with him. But it certainly wasn’t a car accident. You went to his funeral?”
I nodded numbly.
“Closed casket, right? A car accident is an easy thing for a child to understand. It makes sense that they wouldn’t tell you the truth.”
I pushed up off the couch and stumbled over the axe. I caught my balance and glared at Ryan when he half-rose to help.
“Are you okay?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know! It’s a lot to take in, all right? I just… I need. Space. Time.”
“Yeah. Uh, sure.” He stood up and folded his hands awkwardly at his waist, fidgeting uncertainly. “Alex. I just want to say. I’m sorry that I took so long to tell you who I am, and I regret lying. But I had to know who you were and how much of dad’s teachings you took to heart.”
I stared at him, my arms wrapped around my chest. Then turned and walked away without responding. Why did everyone assume I was going to turn into a Sith Lord or something? I was just me. Alex. Learning about my heritage and the power that came with it didn’t change who I was inside.
Without really thinking about it, I wandered into the garage and leaned against the wall, staring at the junk. After a moment, I noticed Grim was in the garage too. Maybe sensing my eyes on him, he turned his head to look at me before padding over and sitting at my feet. Cats were hard to understand. Grim more or less did what he wanted to do, but I couldn’t guess why he was in the garage having a staring contest with the junk.
“What is it, Grim?” I asked. “A ghost? Sprites? Demons?”
Grim looked up at me and blinked, his big golden eyes shining in the gloom.
“Yeah. Could be anything.” Louder, I called across the garage, “Well? Are you evil? Do I need to have you exorcised?”
Silence was my only reply, and I sighed. Ma
ybe if I helped Tovarrah enough she would come by and expel whatever was in the junk for me. I didn’t have the personal faith to attempt an exorcism. I believed in God the same way I believed in the moon. After everything I had seen, trying to deny His existence would be self-delusion at best. That didn’t mean I had any faith, though.
“What am I going to do about Ryan, Grim?” I slid down to the ground and sat next to the cat. “He’s my brother. Not by blood, maybe, but he’s the closest thing to family I’ve had since father died.”
Grim’s tail twitched and he narrowed his eyes until only a thin sliver of light gleamed between his lids.
“I mean, I want him to stay! Just having someone I can talk to openly is such a relief.”
I leaned my head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. The last couple days I’d been pretty open with Sam. But every piece of information I gave him came with the weight of what I was exposing him to. With Ryan it was different. Hell, he was a monster hunter, right? That meant he was fully aware of how dangerous the world could be, and he knew how to act to preserve the delicate subterfuge necessary so the straights could maintain their happy ignorance.
Next to me, Grim perked up and stood suddenly, every muscle taut. The cat’s eyes were locked on the junk pile, his tail twitching.
Goose bumps rolled up my neck and I turned my head slowly, dreading what I was going to see. There was a soft clink of metal and something in the junk pile shifted. I yelped and scrambled to my feet as a shape pulled itself together from the scattered junk.
It was maybe a foot tall, with a vaguely humanoid figure formed from random pieces of metal junk. With the same awkward uncertainty as a toddler standing up, it pushed itself upright. Bits of metal, old bent nails, screws, washers and wire offcuts, were adhered to the general form of the body, and as I watched, they organized into facial features and finer bits of anatomy like fingers.
Behind me the door banged open and I threw out a hand as Ryan barged into the garage, silently ordering him to stop. The little figure straightened and looked up at me. Behind it, more junk was shifting and more of the little figures organized from the scattered rubbish. They were of different sizes, of wildly different composition, but none larger than two feet tall.
“What in the world…?” Ryan muttered.
“I don’t know. Just… play it cool, all right?” I whispered back.
I saw Ryan nod from the corner of my eye, but the little figures had my attention. I started to speak and had to pause to clear my throat. “Hello,” I greeted the figures tentatively. “My name is Alex.”
The figures stared up at me impassively. Well, when dealing with the unknown, it never hurt to be polite.
“I apologize for moving you. When ownership of this land was given to me, I was not made aware of your presence.”
The first figure tilted its head at me and chittered. There were syllables there, but it was too high-pitched and fast to make any sense of. And it definitely wasn’t English. I speak two languages: English and bad English. There were rhythms to it that made me think of Arabic or maybe Hindi, but I had no clue what it was saying.
I threw a look behind me at Ryan, and he gave me a helpless shrug. He had no idea what it had said either.
Why hadn’t father taught me more languages? “I don’t speak that language,” I said politely, “but if you can understand me, I would like to extend my welcome. You can stay here so long as you do not harm me or my guests.”
The figure chittered at me again and bent forward in an unmistakable bow. Then it walked back toward the rest of the figures, and together they collapsed into a pile of disorganized junk once more.
“What the hell, Alex?” Ryan demanded hoarsely.
“Outside,” I told him, and pushed him back through the door. Grim followed, brushing past my legs when I reached back to pull the garage door shut. Only once I was back in the living room did I start speaking again. “Careful that you don’t offend them,” I admonished Ryan.
“Offend? I thought you were going to cast them out! Did you just give something unknown permission to live in your home? Are you insane?”
I folded my arms and eyed Ryan. “I’ve lived here for four months and they haven’t bothered me. I’ve no reason to think they would start now.”
“You don’t even know what they are, though! They could be demons! Evil sprites!” Ryan threw himself down on the couch. “And what if they turn out to be poltergeists?”
“Then I’ll get rid of them. But I don’t think they are. They don’t feel evil to me.”
“How can you possibly know that?” Ryan grumbled.
“Oh, come on. You said you were a monster hunter. Use your head. Did they look evil to you?”
“Other than being composed of rusted junk?”
“I think they looked cute. And they’re small. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Chucky was small, too.”
“Look. I said they could stay so long as they didn’t hurt anyone. If they violate that, I’ll do whatever I have to, okay? Until then, they’re just harmless residents.”
Ryan grunted something sour under his breath.
“It’s my house,” I pointed out irritably. I don’t know why I was so set on defending whatever those things were. A few hours ago, we had fled the house in fear of them. Something about seeing them for what they really were took the edge off of that fear. “If you don’t like it, the door is right over there.”
His mouth narrowed, then he sighed and shook his head. “Fine. But I really think you should make it a priority to figure out what they are, where they came from, and what they want.”
“I can try asking the previous owner,” I said doubtfully. “It might be hard to reach him, though.”
“I doubt the old station master would know what they are,” Ryan shook his head.
“I’m pretty sure the last owner was a dragon, though don’t hold me to that.”
“A… okay. You aren’t joking.”
“He didn’t mention it when he handed the deed over. Maybe he didn’t know. Or he got it from some other member of the supernatural community.”
“A dragon… It seems there’s a lot about you that I don’t know,” Ryan gave me an unwilling smile. “Fine. Your house, your rules.”
“Good. I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement. I’ve got to go report to Tovarrah about what we found at the church. You going to be okay?”
Ryan glanced toward the garage. “I think I might give Trina a call, see if she wants to do something. I shouldn’t spend the night here, anyway.”
“Ah. Yes. Probably a good idea.”
We stood for a moment, awkwardly looking at each other before I gave a nod. “Stay safe, Ryan. I’ve a million questions to ask you, as soon as we have some time to sit down over a drink.”
“I’m sure you do. I’ll be around. Give me a call if you need anything. Trina is fun, but not important.” He winked and bobbed his eyebrows at me.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure. I’ll probably not be back tonight. Staying here is just asking for the ghoul to attack again.”
The levity dropped off Ryan’s face. “You’re right. Do you have some place to stay?”
“No, but I’ll work something out.” I hesitated, then gave him a hug. “I’ll see you later.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ryan needed to return the rental truck, so I rode my scooter to the dry cleaner’s in the off-chance they had finished with my jacket. I was in luck. The oriental lady behind the counter handed the jacket over to me in its plastic sleeve and I stripped it out to examine their work. The worst of the blood stains were gone, with only a slight discoloration on the back of the sleeve, but that was hardly noticeable.
“You get jacket from dead woman?” the woman asked.
“What? No. It’s mine.”
“It ok. No lie. I no call the police. We have a bet. I say owner shot in the head. My niece says hit by car. Which was it?”
I shrugged into the jacket. There was still a lingering chemical smell from the wash cycle, but that would clear quickly enough. “Neither. I was thrown off a building.” I looked the woman dead in the eye and she blanched. “Have a nice day.”
Back outside, I called Tovarrah. “I have good news and I have bad news,” I announced when she picked up. “Which do you want first?”
“Good news,” Tovarrah replied.
“Okay. I found Steven. He’s staying at the Satanist church off Sunset.”
“I know the place. Were you able to get him to return to the hospital?”
“There’s the bad news. The demon was in full control. I didn’t speak a single word to Steven.”
“Then he has fallen further than I feared,” she said sadly. “Trying to pull the demon from him now would probably kill him, even if we were able to succeed.”
“That’s not the worst of it.” I had debated telling Tovarrah about the hospice the Satanists were running. On the one hand, Mahlat had been right. Sending the Red House into the church would likely lead to the deaths of more than a few innocents. On the other hand, God only knew how many more people the Satanists would corrupt. They needed to be stopped, and I couldn’t do it on my own.
So, God forgive me, I told Tovarrah about the hospice. The people on the cots, the “recruitment” methods, how many robed Satanists I had seen, everything I could think of. Tovarrah listened without interrupting, and I could hear the rattle of a keyboard as she typed furiously.
When I finally ran out of things to say, Tovarrah asked, “Where are you now?”
“Sitting on my scooter outside a dry cleaner, freezing my ass off.”
“Good. Stay out of this. The fight will be no place for amateurs.”
“Now that’s just hurtful.”
Tovarrah ignored me. “Thank you for your information, Alexandra. You’ve saved more lives than you can know. Don’t go home. It won’t be safe for you.”
She hung up and I scowled down at my phone. Despite Tovarrah’s warning, and against my better judgement, I very much wanted to be a part of the fight. Still, that wasn’t going to happen. Even I knew my limits.
