The Devil You Know (Jacob Graves Book 3)

by Sean Stone

  By the time I got out of the shower there was a text message from Natalie. My weapons were ready. Obviously that’s not how the message was worded, but that was what she meant. The message actually said, your order is ready for collection. Boring and bland and totally uninteresting to the police. Police who couldn’t come after me anyway. They could go after Natalie, however, and she could lead them to all of her clients.

  I got dressed, grabbed a bite to eat and cup of coffee, and then headed down to the garage, still undecided on which car to drive. I went with the Mercedes. Stylish but not too flashy.

  The city was as busy as ever. The streets were crammed full of people going about their daily business. Apparently, it was only at night that they were frightened. I wasn’t sure why though. Dorian and Magraval were just as likely to attack each other in the day as they were at night. In fact, night-time would make it more difficult; with less people on the streets they’d be easier to see coming. That aside, I’d thought that Neil’s threat on the news yesterday might have encouraged people to stay at home. Apparently they had not taken it very seriously. To be honest, I probably wouldn’t have if I hadn’t known better. A kid going on the news and threatening the most powerful man in the city was laughable. But the common people didn’t know who was backing him. And they didn’t seem to understand that whilst the threat was meant for Dorian, it was them who would be hurt, not the immortal.

  I parked up and headed around to the front of Natalie’s shop. The bell rang as I entered but this time there was nobody on the shop floor. Natalie was out the back. I hit the silver bell on the counter and waited. A moment later Natalie’s head poked through the door behind the counter.

  ‘Go through to the lounge. I had an unexpected visitor,’ she said quickly before vanishing again.

  I followed her instructions and headed through the rear door. There was a very small hallway that had three doors leading off from it. I’d only ever been through one of them, and today that was not going to change. I went through the right door into the small lounge. In the corner of the room were two leather sofas pushed against the walls. A large wooden coffee table stood before them, an assortment of magazines stacked neatly in piles.

  In all the time I’d been using Natalie’s services I had never encountered another person in the lounge before. Today was different. A man who was built like a tank was sitting in the centre of one of the sofas. Thick orange hair was pulled back in a messy pony tail and a thick beard of matching colour covered his chin and hung down to his chest. In his meaty hands he held a worn copy of UFC Magazine. He was wearing a tank top that exposed his arms. Each bicep was the size of my head. Thick blue veins stood prominently from the flesh of his massive arms. The word inferior sprung to mind.

  I took a seat on the other sofa, positioning myself as far from Mr. Muscle as possible, and began perusing the magazines on the table. I felt his gaze on me without looking over at him. I kept my own eyes firmly on the table. I wasn’t here for a chat or anything else with this titan of a man.

  ‘I fought in the octagon once, you know,’ he said. His voice was crisp and masculine. His accent was unplaceable. Some kind of European.

  Reluctantly, I looked up into his fierce eyes. ‘Just the once?’

  ‘Yes. I was not invited back.’ He glanced off to the side in annoyance.

  ‘Lost that badly, huh?’ The words were out of my mouth before I’d even considered stopping them. I could hear my uncle groaning as if he were there.

  The stranger slammed the magazine down on the table and several pages fluttered from the force. ‘I did not lose!’ he bellowed. ‘I defeated my foe so badly they would not allow me near another.’

  ‘I thought that was kind of the point of the UFC. To beat your opponent and keep them down.’

  ‘As did I. I utterly destroyed him. I broke three of his limbs and turned his nose into a lump of…’ he paused to consider which word best suited his purpose. ‘…stuff,’ he said finally, deciding there was no fitting word for the image he wanted to portray.

  ‘Congratulations,’ I said, unsure of what else to say. The guy obviously wanted some kudos.

  ‘Yes. There was very little congratulations on the night. The audience was practically silent. The referee didn’t even raise my hand. Everybody was more concerned with my opponent. The loser. He deserved no attention.’ With every word he spoke he was getting angrier. I wished I could move even further away from him, but I was already on the edge of the sofa.

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t kill people who don’t deserve it. He is alive and living in one of the finest care homes in America.’

  ‘A care home?’

  ‘Yes. He will never walk again. Or feed himself. Or wash himself. Or do much of anything really.’ As the big guy spoke it became apparent that he considered all of this to be a fair outcome for the loser of a fight.

  ‘Well, at least he’s not dead,’ I said with extra sarcasm. I would have preferred death.

  ‘That was my point precisely. But still they would not let me fight again. If I am honest, if that’s the calibre of their fighters then I do not wish to fight in the octagon again. I should make my own octagon. A better octagon. That would show those so called ultimate fighters who the best truly is. Who do they think they are to refuse me a second fight? They should be on their knees begging the mighty Thor to grace their octagon with his presence!’ His voice was practically booming by the time his rant finally came to a close.

  ‘Sorry, hold up. Did you just say Thor?’

  His mouth curved into a smile with enough pride to rival the devil. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thor, god of thunder?’ Either I was sitting in the room with a madman, or I was in the presence of an actual god. I’d never met a god before so this was a first for me. Well, I had met Leah’s mother who was a god, but I hadn’t been conscious for that and had no memory of the encounter so it didn’t count.

  ‘Thor, god of thunder, lightning, storms, sacred groves and trees, strength, fertility, hallowing, and the protection of mankind.’ He puffed his chest out as he listed off his many titles and I had to stop myself from chuckling.

  ‘I can see why most people stop at thunder,’ I replied. ‘If you’re the real Thor then why are you here? Don’t you have godly weapons and armour?’

  ‘It shames me to say that I have lost Mjolnir, my trusty war hammer. But I will find it. As for why I am here, Jarngreipr is being mended by who I am told is the greatest armourer in this country.’

  ‘Jarngri..’

  ‘Jarngreipr. My iron gauntlets. Without them I would have immense difficulty in wielding Mjolnir. The handle is very short.’

  ‘I see,’ I said, once again stifling a laugh. I could see why that particular part of Thor’s mythology wasn’t told in many of the stories. Thor struggling with the short handle of his hammer conjured a slightly less than warrior-like image in my mind.

  ‘The only one of my trinity currently in tact is Megingjord.’ He patted his stomach and I heard a dull thud emanate from beneath his shirt. My brow furrowed in curiosity which judging by the grin on his face was exactly what he intended. He lifted the bottom of his shirt to reveal an obscenely large and frankly hideous belt. It looked like a wrestling championship belt. The strap was thick brown leather with an ornate pattern sewn across it. On the front, made of brass or some other metal was a symbol that had a horrible familiarity that caused my jaw to drop.

  ‘Is that a swastika?’ I said at once, my eyebrows taking flight somewhere up my forehead. It looked almost exactly like the symbol the Nazis had been fond of during World War II. The only difference was that the shorter lines were curved rather than straight.

  Thor’s entire posture straightened up as he leaned forward, bringing his index finger up for emphasis. ‘This was a symbol for power used by my family long before your Hitler adopted it.’

  ‘Woah!’ I said throwing my hands up. ‘
He’s not my Hitler. I’m not even from the same country as him.’

  ‘You’re human as was he.’

  ‘I’m a wizard and he was a Nocult.’ I can tolerate being compared to many things, but I draw the line at Hitler.

  ‘An irrelevance. This,’ he placed his hand over the swastika on his belt. ‘This is not an evil symbol. Not when I wear it. Though, people’s current perceptions of the symbol have forced me to keep the belt covered these days.’

  ‘Why wear it at all?’ The thing was bloody offensive. He ought to throw it away, or change the symbol on the front.

  ‘Megingjord is a belt of power. It doubles my strength, physical and magical.’ And just like that the belt went up in my estimations.

  ‘Seriously? Just putting that belt on doubles your power?’

  ‘Why would I not be serious?’

  ‘Would it work on someone else? A wizard for example?’

  ‘It would work on anyone. But nobody besides myself will ever wear it. I will not allow it.’

  I looked greedily at the ugly belt that sat on his muscular body. If I had that boosting my strength then I might just be able to take down Magraval without resorting to turning myself into a living conduit for all the power in the city. That belt could quite literally save the day. ‘Perhaps there is some agreement we could come to in which I could borrow the belt?’

  Thor let out a bark of laugh. ‘Nobody wears the Megingjord but me.’

  If there was one thing I’d learned in my adult life it was that there was a price for almost everything. I just needed to find out what Thor’s price was. ‘Look, there must be something you want. Tell me what I need to do to borrow your belt?’

  The god looked at me, his gaze intense, and then his lips broke into a smile again and he shook his head. ‘Alright, little man.’

  ‘Little man?’

  ‘Yes, you are a man and you are quite small.’

  ‘Only compared to you.’

  ‘And I am all that matters. Here is the only deal I will offer. Find Mjolnir and I will lend you my belt. You do not even have to retrieve Mjolnir for me. Simply tell me where it is and I will fetch it.’

  I hung me head in despair. I really didn’t have the time for side quests. I had enough going on as it was. But I could tell that he was not going to budge. He had given me a task which he believed I would not be able to achieve. ‘You’re a god. Surely you can do some kind of god magic and track your own things?’

  A rumbling sigh blew through his lips and the hairs on his top lip quivered. ‘I wish it were so simple. In the old days it was. These days… My power has waned, little man. People do not worship me as they used to.’

  ‘And that lessens your power?’ Since a young age I’d had a fierce aversion to studying, for that reason there were many subjects I knew very little about. Gods was one of them. Though to be fair, I think there were few people who did know much about gods, especially how their power worked.

  ‘I draw power from worship. My whole family does. The more who worship us, the more powerful we become. In this age people think us nothing more than myth. Stories that silly ancient people believed in. And so they do not worship us. Some still believe, but they are few and far between.’ His eyes lost their intensity and filled with years of sadness that I would never comprehend. No mortal could.

  ‘What would happen if nobody worshipped you at all?’

  ‘The weaker a god grows the more mortal he becomes. In my current state I still do not age, but I could be killed. Though it would be extremely difficult.’

  ‘So gods can’t be killed usually?’

  ‘Only by another god. No other being would stand a chance.’

  ‘Hold on, though,’ I said. I was beginning to enjoy the philosophical and celestial conversation we were having. ‘The River Mother in this city is a god who’s pretty powerful and nobody worships her.’ There was no temple for the River Mother. In fact, most people in the city didn’t even know she existed.

  ‘She’s a different kind of god. Not all gods draw power in the same ways. I draw power from worship. Some other gods draw power from worshipful actions.’

  ‘Worshipful actions?’ The conversation was taking a dramatic turn toward the not so exciting. I was starting to remember why I hated studying, it always ended up getting confusing.

  ‘If you perform an action enough it becomes a form of worship, even if you don’t enjoy it. Think about the person who wakes up every morning and the first thing they do is go to their favourite chair and read a chapter of a book. Their dedication to reading is a form of worship.’

  ’So there’s a god of reading?’

  ‘There may well be several.’

  ’That would mean there’s a god of brushing teeth?’

  ‘You’re being ridiculous. The action has to be meaningful. Your river god draws her power from peace. Whilst this land is at peace her power is strong. Should this land be plagued by war…’

  ‘Her power would wane,’ I said. I realised then why the River Mother was so invested in keeping the peace in Sangford, her power and maybe even her existence depended on it.

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘She must know that the peace is going to break completely. Her daughter told me that she knows she’s going to die soon.’

  Thor tilted his head thoughtfully. ’War alone would not kill her. Even if war took every patch of land in this city, she would only weaken. She would likely become mortal, but she would still not die unless killed. If your River Mother believes she is going to die, then she must believe somebody wants to kill her.’

  ‘That’s… morbid.’ I said, not sure how to process that information. I wondered if I should warn Jasmine. It was probably best not to. Whatever was going on with the river family was well above my pay grade. Best to leave them to it.

  ‘Still, she may not die. This city is not yet painted with blood, there is still time to turn things around.’

  ‘Let’s hope,’ I said, thinking not just about my own desire not to live in a war-torn city, but also about the three nymphs who would lose their mother. ‘I’m still confused about something. If you need worship and belief then why don’t you just tell people who you are and get power that way?’

  He shook his head and chuckled joylessly. ‘It is not that simple. I’ve told you who I am. Tell me, do you believe?’

  I was going to say yes, but after taking a moment to think about it I realised that wasn’t entirely true. ‘I’m not sure,’ I confessed. It made sense, but at the same time the whole thing seemed just too farfetched. For all I knew, this could be another of Magraval’s manipulations. Although, I didn’t get the feeling that my old foe had anything to do with this one.

  ‘Being not sure is another way of not believing. People require proof these days before they can believe in anything. There is no true faith. But without true faith there is no true worship. So, you see, without belief there is no power, but without power there is no belief. It is a cycle that has doomed my kind.’

  ‘And I take it you cannot just switch to being the other kind of god?’

  ‘No more than you can turn yourself into a goblin.’

  The waiting room fell silent for several moments. The conversation had run to a sad conclusion. It seemed that Thor was going to… Well, I didn’t know what was going to happen to him. He’d become mortal maybe. Unless he could find some way to convince people to believe in him again.

  Suddenly I remembered something my father had said to me a couple of weeks ago. Something that couldn’t possibly be true if Thor was pretty much powerless. ‘My father told me that my family is favoured by your gods, your family. He said Loki gave him the power of stealth. I… I summoned lightning without using any spells. Was that thanks to you?’

  Thor’s eyes narrowed in keen curiosity, his expression darkening. ‘Favoured? My family have not favoured anybody for centuries. We would only favour those who worship us, which you and your father clearly do not. Your father was mistaken.
His stealth came not from my brother. As for you, I have commanded neither thunder nor lightning for more years than I care to remember. Your gift did not come from me.’ His tone betrayed his jealousy.

  I knew my father had been talking shit and now I had the proof. But that still left the question of how I commanded lightning unanswered. Even Drew had bought into the favoured by the gods bullshit.

  A short while later Natalie came through and told Thor that she could mend his gauntlets but it would take time. The news seemed to lift his spirits after the morose conversation I’d had with him. He stood up, towering above me, and headed to the door almost with a spring in his step. When he reached the door he turned back. ‘I didn’t get your name, little man.’

  ‘Jacob. Jacob Graves,’ I replied, eager for him to stop calling me little man. He might be broader than me but we were pretty much the same height.

  ‘Jacob, my offer was genuine. If you find the location of Mjolnir, I will lend you Megingjord. Should you find it you can reach me at room 108 at the Premier Inn Hotel on Brooks Avenue. Though if you come in person I should warn you, it is anything but premier,’ he said with complete sincerity. He must be one of the few people who had actually been duped by the name. It was like rubbing salt in the wound after all he’d been through; losing his power and being on the verge of mortality. I actually felt sorry for the old god.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Once Thor was gone, Natalie brought in my newly crafted weapons for fighting the dullahan. Natalie whisked the magazines off the table and stacked them neatly on the floor. Then she placed the titanium briefcase she’d brought with her on the table. She flipped the latches and lifted the lid to reveal my shiny new arsenal. She’d clearly gone above and beyond, as she always did. Natalie provided top quality work hence why people as high and mighty as Thor hired her. Plus, she always threw in a little extra unordered item. One of my favourite parts of going to Natalie was finding out what the free gift would be.