by Devin Hanson
Morrel was silent when I finished. He turned away and went to throw another log on the fire, and stood contemplating the swirling sparks. At my side, Beard shifted impatiently, and I felt a surge a fury shoot through me at the disrespect. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to take someone’s life more than at that moment.
“You came here for aid,” Morrel said finally. “What did you expect to find? We are not warriors. If you came here looking for someone to solve your problems, you will be disappointed.” I felt Ores shift behind me and Morrel turned around, a wry smile on his face. “You were taken by a young woman, my friend. This is not a danger I would have you face.”
I looked back at Ores in surprise and got a glare in return. “To be fair, sir,” I said, then hesitated, wondering if that was the right way to address Morrel. Nobody corrected me, so I hurried on. “I am not your average young woman. And the fighting is not what I need help with. The help I need is in finding where to go.”
At first, I thought I had angered Morrel by correcting him, then his eyes crinkled in a small smile. “No. You are right, Ms. Ascher. I did you a disservice. Very well. It is not my place to tell my people what their limits are. If Ores wishes to aid you, that will be his choice to make.”
Morrel turned back to the fire, dismissing us as effectively as if we had been escorted all the way back to Beard’s car. Ores and Rogan left the lodge, and after a shared glance and shrug with Beard, I followed. I ducked out into the bright sunlight, squinting. Rogan was already gone, hurrying away toward the distant cabins.
Ores was waiting for us, his arms folded across his bare chest. “I will help you, Alexandra Ascher. But not you, Beard. I do not like the way you smell.”
Beard looked between us and his nose wrinkled. “Fine with me. I wouldn’t want you in my car anyway.”
“You know the way back,” Ores said. It wasn’t really a question.
“Yeah.” Beard looked at me and shrugged. “I’ll see you around, Alex.”
“Okay.” I watched Beard make his way back up the trail then turned to Ores. “I think I need to introduce myself properly. I’m Alex Ascher.” I held out my hand.
“I am Ores,” Ores said. He rolled the R a little, making the name into two syllables. His hand engulfed mine completely. “You are strong, for one so small. I have not had my bell rung with such thoroughness since I was a cub.”
Up close, I had expected Ores to smell like grease and body odor, but he smelled faintly of wood smoke and pine needles. There was a musky undertone to his scent, but nothing unpleasant or overpowering. “Thanks. Sorry for, ah… you know.” I gestured at his waist. “That’s not a thing I would normally do to someone.”
Ores winced. “We both did things we regret. I perhaps acted without proper thought. My wife says it is my greatest failing. I must ask. Why did you follow one such as that Beard? He smells wrong, and does not like us.”
“Only from necessity,” I kicked at a clod of snow. “I had no idea there was a hinn community in the mountains. Or that your people had such refined senses. He may have led me to you, but the more I know of Beard, the less I like him.”
He grunted. “You held yourself well in talking to Morrel. It is why I will help you track down your missing bodies. I did not smell fear on you, only respect. I had judged you poorly, Ms. Ascher. Another mistake.”
“Please, just call me Alex.”
Ores nodded and smiled for the first time. “Thank you, Alex. Come, I would have you meet my wife.”
I had to trot to catch up to Ores, and I phrased my question carefully, worried about upsetting our newfound amicableness. “I don’t know if I gave you all the information in the lodge back there with Morrel. But we’re a bit short on time.”
Ores shrugged. “I understand the need for haste. But I must wear a shirt, and proper pants, if I am to go to the city with you.”
I bit back a laugh and shook my head. “Oh. Right.” Ores seemed so comfortable in his current state of partial dress that I had assumed he would stay that way.
He led us to his cabin and held the door for me to enter first. I nodded my thanks to him and stepped inside, curious. Ores lived simply, but well. Onions and chains of garlic hung from the rafters, along with a few hams and other cured meats. The furniture was built to fit his size, all thick, hand-carved oak.
The woman I had seen earlier saw me enter and surged from her rocking chair. She hooked the fingers of one hand in the neck of her blouse and was about to rip the clothing from herself, presumably as a preface to shifting, when Ores walked in behind me.
“May, this is—Easy, woman! Everything is fine now.”
May glared daggers at me before rushing to Ores’ side and checking him over. She clucked her tongue at the blood in his hair and the split on his cheekbone.
“May, this is Alexandra Ascher. Alex, my wife, May.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said politely.
May grunted.
“I am going to accompany Alex into the city,” Ores continued. “She needs my help.”
His wife stiffened. She turned to me and was about to unleash her opinion when a leather curtain on the far side of the room swung aside and two children raced out. They threw themselves on Ores, who scooped them up, one in each arm. They clung to him and stared at me with wide eyes.
“Jacob,” Ores bounced the boy on the left first, then the girl on the right, “and Blueberry.”
I smiled, “Hello, Jacob. That’s a beautiful name, Blueberry.”
“Thanks,” the girl lisped. She couldn’t be more than three years old, and looked tiny in Ores’ arms. “It’s ‘cause my dad likes them.”
May planted her fists on her hips. “If you must go, then you better get ready. There’s a storm coming. I smell it on the wind.”
Ores winked at me and carried his kids into the other room, rumbling to them cheerfully. May waited until he was gone before rounding on me. “You.”
I held up my hands. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my plan to hurt anyone when I came here.”
“But you would pull him away to the city? What do you think will happen there? I know your kind. Always you deal in pain and death.”
“I didn’t choose Ores,” I said defensively. “He volunteered.”
“Of course he did.” May’s anger puddled out of her and she leaned against the table, hiding her face from me. “He wishes only to help others, and does not understand people who would use him for that.”
“I’ve no intention of using him,” I said carefully. “But without his help, bad things will happen in the city.”
“Yes,” May said acidly, “and next you will tell me that those bad things will spill over to affect our lives, even this far away.”
I shrugged. I had. “Things are more dangerous than they’ve been in decades, and without Ores’ help, its only going to get worse.”
“I’ve heard. We all have.” May looked up at me, and I saw her eyes were red with tears. “We aren’t as isolated up here as you might think.”
My heart went out to her. “May, I promise I will do everything I can to keep Ores away from the danger.”
She sniffed. “You could not stop him if he wants to do a thing.” A proud smile tugged at her lips. “Even Adan Morrel knows this.”
I heard boots scuffing on the floor in the other room, and May brushed the tears from her eyes hastily. Ores stepped into the room, looking like a completely different man. His wild hair had been rinsed and tamed and pulled back into a queue. He wore a plaid shirt tucked into jeans and hiking boots. He had a jacket in one hand and carried a lever-action rifle with a bore that looked big enough to drop a carrot into in the other.
May hurried over to him and fussed with his collar before pulling him down into a kiss. It lingered long enough for me to grow uncomfortable.
I cleared my throat. “I’ll, uh, be outside.”
Outside, I tucked my hands into my pockets. The wind was starting to pick up, and it was kicking clouds in from
the north. It was getting cold now that the sun wasn’t shining. The storm May had predicted wasn’t wasting any time. Judging by the towering thunderheads, LA was going to be in for a deluge.
Ores stepped out of his cabin. “Thank you for waiting.”
I shrugged. “Sure. You got a license for that cannon you’re carrying?”
He hefted the rifle. “Does it look like I’m concealing it?”
I snorted. “No. Now that you mention it. But it’s still illegal to carry it in public.”
“It’s only illegal if you get caught. Relax. I have a permit.”
“Okay. Just making sure. I promised your wife I would look out for you. Somehow I don’t think she’d appreciate it if you got thrown in jail for helping me.”
“You go to fight a ghoul, right?”
“I’m going to fight a ghoul,” I said, emphasizing the first word. “You are helping me find it.”
Ores spat. “Filthy creatures. The dead deserve their rest. I will help you find your missing bodies, but I won’t go without my own protection.”
That was understandable. “Fair enough. Just so you understand that I’m not asking you to fight with me.”
“I understand.” Ores looked up at the sky. “We better hurry. The rain will make it hard to find what we seek, and that storm is coming fast.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ores put us on a well-used trail that headed downward into the valley, and after fifteen minutes of hiking, we came to a parking lot. There was a forest ranger’s truck parked there, with around a dozen other vehicles. The hinn led the way to a large work truck, hung with tool racks and ladders.
“What?” Ores asked when he saw my look. “We have to earn a living too. We just choose not to live in a suburb paying rent to billionaires.” He stowed his rifle behind the driver seat and climbed in before reaching over to pop the door for me. “Handle’s busted on that side. Hop in. She might be old, but she’s safe enough.”
I had to slam the door to get it to close all the way, and Ores got us rolling. The dirt road was bumpy and by the time we reached pavement I felt like I had spent the last twenty minutes in a rock polisher. Rather than heading to the highway, Ores took us on a series of backroads winding through the mountains. I stayed quiet, concentrating on keeping my lunch in my stomach where it belonged.
My ears popped as we lost elevation and the snow faded away. Ten minutes later, we stopped while Ores jumped out to swing a gate to the side, and we were back onto familiar roads. It seemed strange to me that forty minutes from Pasadena there was a snowy hinn refuge, but that was LA for you. No matter what you were looking for, it was somewhere within a two-hour drive of the city.
“What is your plan for fighting this ghoul?” Ores asked.
That was a good question. So far, I had been concentrating on just finding the damn thing. Once I did, though, then what? Destroying whatever body it was using would just put me back at square one again. I needed some way to keep it from running.
I sat up straight in my seat. “Change of plans, Ores. We need to take a detour.”
Ores blinked at me. “Okay. Where are we going?”
“Home. I need to pick something up.”
Why hadn’t I thought of it earlier? In the safe under my bed, I still had the carved skull that Elaida had used to capture the archangel Zerachiel. Elaida had described the skull as a prison, used to hold any incorporeal being. In fact, Elaida had specifically said it could be used to hold a ghoul or a jaan.
That left the minor problem of actually using the skull. I had released Zerachiel from the prison simply by touching the skull and commanding him to leave. If only I knew how to capture something with the skull. And I would need the ghoul’s name.
Details.
We reached my house and I directed Ores to pull into the parking lot on the side rather than park on the street.
“You live here?” Ores asked, leaning forward to look out the windshield. “This is a big building.”
“Used to be a fire station,” I said. I had to slam my shoulder into the door to get it to unstick, then I paused, one foot outside. “Um. Maybe you better come with me. And bring that cannon of yours.”
That got me a surprised look. “This is your house, right?”
“The ghoul knows where I live. It already attacked me here once. I could probably take it, but safe is better than sorry.”
Ores grinned. “Is this part of keeping me safe?” He climbed out of the truck and retrieved his rifle. From a box under the seat, he started feeding rounds into the magazine. Big, heavy hunting rounds.
“Jesus. What are those for, hunting elephants?”
“Bears.” Ores’ grin widened and he cocked the lever. “Ready when you are.”
“How good are you with that thing?” I had visions in my head of furious HOA women pointing at bullet holes in their stucco.
“I can shoot a nickel at fifty yards.” Then, after reading my blank look, “Good. I won’t miss.”
That was comforting, though I had a feeling those massive rounds would go right through a human, the wall behind him, and whatever else was in the way until it hit something solid like an engine block. “Right. Okay. Follow me, then.”
Ores was a solid presence behind me, comforting like a lead-lined blast shield. I got the door unlocked and paused in the threshold listening. After a moment, I heard an irritated meow and Grim came padding up to me. He sat down a few paces off and started a long, meowing complaint. No doubt telling me exactly how much of a terrible person I was for leaving him without food for twelve hours.
“Hey, Grim,” I grinned back at Ores sheepishly. “Guess everything is fine in here then.”
The hinn didn’t take his eyes off of Grim. “Where did you get that?”
“Grim?” I knelt down to scratch the cat behind the ears. “He came with the place. I can’t figure out what breed he is. My best guess is Maine Coon, crossed with a mountain lion. C’mon boy, let’s get you fed.”
I went into the kitchen and filled Grim’s bowl. I wasn’t overly concerned about Grim starving while I was gone. If he got really hungry, he could go and hunt down a neighborhood rottweiler or something to eat. Grim was impatient and bumped my hand while I was pouring food and made me scatter kibble over the counter.
Ores followed me as far as the doorway and lurked on the other side, ducking a bit so he could see under the lintel. “That is not a cat.”
I glanced over at Ores, occupied in cleaning up the mess. “Obviously. Housecats don’t grow this big.”
“No, I mean, it is not a housecat at all. That’s a malkin.”
“A what?” I dumped the kibble back into Grim’s bowl and dusted my hands off.
“A malkin. A grey malkin. They’re fey kin, and smart. Smart enough to speak. Most would call them evil, or bad luck at best.”
I shrugged and scratched Grim’s ears. He paused eating long enough to headbutt me, then went back to devouring his food. “Speak?” I snorted. “What about it, Grim? You holding out on me?”
Grim flicked his tail and spared me a disdainful look.
“Doesn’t seem like it. How certain are you?”
Ores frowned, and tentatively stepped into the kitchen. “Not so certain,” he admitted. “I’ve only heard stories, and myths told by my gran. But it looks like a malkin.”
“If Grim is a malkin, how would you tell?”
“The size is a giveaway,” Ores said. “Talking is another one. They’re a conduit for fey energies; witches use them as familiars.”
I grinned. “Witches too, huh?”
“They’re real, Alex.”
I shrugged again. “If you say so. As far as I’m concerned, Grim is just my cat. But I didn’t come here for him. He can look out for himself just fine.” I left Grim to his meal and crossed the kitchen toward my bedroom. “Give me a hand with this.”
With Ores’ help, I pushed my bed to the side, then shooed him out of the room so I could open the safe. I don’
t know what purpose a fire chief would have for a floor safe, but I was glad it was there. The tumbler felt icy-cold against my fingertips, and spun with a heavy, machined precision.
I got the combination right the first try and cranked the handle over. The safe door was two inches of solid steel and I hauled it open with a grunt of effort. The contents of the safe were just as I had left them: an ancient journal written in old Latin that Elaida had called the Nazarian Papers, a yellowed skull carved with runes, and my other set of tonfa.
I took the skull out first and set it carefully on the bed, then went back to the safe for the tonfa. If I was going to fight the ghoul again, I wanted every advantage I could get.
“That’s a grim piece of work,” Ores nodded at the skull.
“Yeah. Do you know what it is?”
Ores shook his head. “No. But I can feel the age and hate coming off it.”
I raised my eyebrows at Ores and lowered the safe door back into place. “I didn’t take you for a spiritual person, Ores.” I spun the lock and shifted my bed back over the safe once more. I bundled a spare scarf around the skull, grabbed a satchel and laid the skull carefully inside.
“It is because I am large,” Ores explained, as if that wasn’t obvious. “My gran thought I could be trained to be a shaman, but I spent my youth getting drunk and fighting in bars instead of learning.”
“Different paths, huh? Okay, that’s what I needed. We can get out of here now.”
“What is it? If you don’t mind me asking?”
“I haven’t the foggiest, to be honest. I know what it can be used for, though. A prison.”
Ores’ eyes widened. “I would not like to be trapped within that thing. Not for a minute.”
“Not something you would have to worry about,” I patted him on the arm as I left the bedroom. “It’s for the ghoul, if I can figure out how to make it work.”
“It is magic,” Ores said, a little puzzled. “You just use it.”
“You know magic?” I asked, the beginnings of excitement stirring within me.
