Strange Omens

by Jim Stein

Quinn caught my arm, just before I keeled over. Her touch was hot. I leaned in, shamelessly stealing her warmth. Shawn rubbed his wrists and nodded. The four of us slowly made our way back out to the bistro. Trinity wasn’t in much better shape than me. For an inexperienced caster, the woman had channeled an awful lot of Fire and managed to focus it without losing control, no mean feat. We joined the waiting women, fell into chairs, and ordered hot drinks.

  “Something’s different,” Quinn said as I sipped my cocoa with both hands glued to the steaming mug.

  I followed her gaze around the interior of the restaurant. It was maybe nine, a time when the bistro was usually crowded with folks taking a late dinner or groups of early drinkers.

  “Crowd’s a little light for a Friday night.” I shrugged at the empty tables dotted with half-full mugs and uneaten food, then understood. “Oh crap.”

  “Not a single Grim.”

  “They bugged out twenty minutes ago like prom dates with a case of the runs,” Lin said. “It was chaos after that wild wind blew through, but I like eating too much to abandon a meal.”

  “Could they all have been those…things?” Quinn asked.

  “I don’t know, but I know who will.” I downed my drink, stood, and waited for the shivering to stop before pushing away. “Make sure Trinity gets to the hostel and goes to bed. Meet you back at the room in an hour.”

  I found the road manager hunched over the computer in his office typing furiously. The desk held a few papers and open envelopes, the big manila kind that don’t require pages to be folded. The office furnishings were sparse, consisting of a second chair, corner filing cabinet, and a coffee maker, but little else. It occurred to me I didn’t know where he slept, or for that matter if Manfred slept.

  I studied the lines of the black silk shirt clinging to his back. He always dressed dark like the Grims themselves. Was his shirt hanging looser than usual? If the revealing fire made it this far before burning out, I could be dealing with something nastier than belligerent record-label brass. I reached for the magic and winced. My reserves were too low; drawing power was like poking at a sore tooth. Well, I wasn’t looking for trouble, just answers.

  I cleared my throat and tensed as Manfred’s shoulders sagged and he turned. His smile was patently fake, his eyes red and tired, but that was all. He hadn’t turned into a ghoul like Dan and his Grims. I exhaled feeling suddenly weary.

  “Can I help you?” His biting tone said I was interrupting.

  “What are the Grims?”

  Time was short, so I opened strong. The question set him back for a moment, surprise replacing his sneer.

  “The somber guests who keep causing trouble?” I prompted.

  “I know who you mean.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Why do you insist on childish names for paying customers? It’s demeaning, and HQ has gotten wind of your labels. I have enough problems with the higher-ups without your help.”

  “You hang out with them; you gamble with them.” I stalked closer and gestured at the small office. “Hell, for all I know you live with them. You must know they aren’t what they seem, aren’t…human!”

  “Wonderful! Did you come up with that bit of fantasy all on your own? I’ve got enough on my plate without entertaining nonsense like this. Stop wasting my time and go get some sleep; you look awful.”

  He turned away from the computer to refill his coffee mug from the machine in the corner, clearly dismissing me. I glanced at the desk, trying to think of another approach, then did a double take. The pages strewn there were official documents full of highlighting and hand-written notes. Manfred was transcribing details into a spreadsheet, cross referencing names, places, and data. I jumped back when his hand slammed the laptop screen shut.

  “Police reports?” He had been playing me.

  ***

  Quinn sat with Anna and Piper. Max had grown way too accustomed to sleeping on the furniture and it was rubbing off. Not only was my monster of a dog taking up half the bed, Ralph lay sprawled between his paws, surrounded by candy wrappers and covering the entire foot. Neither was bothered in the least by the women perched awkwardly on the bit of unclaimed real estate.

  “Pina just left you here?” I asked

  “I guess.” Anna looked better than she had in days. Dark circles still ringed her eyes, but she was calmer and could hold a reasonable conversation, even if she didn’t know exactly what had happened while we were gone. “Waking up was hard. When I finally clawed through the molasses, it was just me, Max, and him.” She pointed at the imp. “He scared me the rest of the way awake, but when I gave him snacks he started to look kind of cute.”

  “That’s Ralph.” The imp moaned and rolled over at the sound of his name. “He’s a friend. You’ve been out of it for a while.”

  “I…know.” Anna bit her lower lip. “Piper told me some of what’s going on. It’s so hard to swallow. I mean, look at him. Things make more sense if this is a dream.”

  “Give it time,” I said. “You’ll be surprised at how real it gets. Even stranger stuff is going on out there. Just go with the flow. When Pina gets back, we’ll see if you’re okay to go out and about.”

  Not only did Anna look more like herself, the dark wriggling mass surrounding her was notably depleted. The two cords moved lethargically, struggling to stretch away rather than toward the girl. Every few seconds a tendril flickered sending a faint shadow out through the window. Pina must have found a way to neutralize the binding spell. If it didn’t continue to unravel on its own, we needed the sprite back to finish the job.

  “Did Pina leave a note?” Quinn asked.

  “Not that we’ve found.” Piper returned from her munchie hunt just prior to Quinn’s arrival. “Knowing Pina, she gave the message to Max.”

  “She’ll show up.” We were used to the sprite disappearing, though it surprised me she left Anna alone with my ever-so-capable canine. “I’m more worried about those Grims and Manfred. He knows what’s going on. Hell, he was mapping everything out!”

  Sour faces and a dismissive wave from Quinn greeted my statement. I knew she was enamored with the road manager, but they couldn’t think I was lying.

  “I’m just saying the guy is hiding something.”

  Piper and Quinn jumped off the bed. Anna huddled against the headboard, face buried in a pillow. That’s when the noxious wave hit, damned near making my eyes water as another quiet phfft issued from the foot of the bed.

  “Take him out before he explodes,” Piper said.

  It took three tries to pry my stupid dog off the bed. Ralph didn’t help. The imp burrowed under Max’s belly, stretching and yawning so deep a fresh wave of nausea threatened to bring up my cocoa. We left with Piper frantically swinging the door in an attempt to air out her room.

  “You really know how to kill a discussion.” I unhooked Max’s lead to let him head for his favorite patch of grass. “Where did you get that?”

  Something long and ragged hung from his mouth. Roadkill would give him worms. Then I saw the lolling head and fuzzy pink tongue beneath Mr. Rabbit’s shiny eyes. I made a grab for the toy, but Max was too quick and pranced out onto the lawn with his prized possession.

  “His head’s gonna fall off if you aren’t careful.”

  Of course, he ignored my comment and proceeded to take his bunny on a sniffing and peeing tour of the grounds. I got to play guard and keep a watchful eye out for Grims, but the adjacent lot and landscape were quiet as the grave. I flipped on my flashlight at the sound of dry rustling as my dog disappeared under a thorny thicket.

  “Aw crap. Not the bushes again.”

  ***

  “Why am I not surprised?” Uktena asked.

  Of course, the dog scraping through the underbrush couldn’t understand the whispered hiss, but it was satisfying to catch the animal off guard. He’d felt the beast approach this time and examined how the dog scented down the hunting bond, using it against the hunter. Ingenious really, but now that he knew what to look f
or, Uktena wouldn’t be caught unawares again.

  The dog skittered sideways, surprised by his unexpected presence, but recovered quickly. That soft bushy tail whapped against his side, and the stupid creature’s ears perked as he presented the top of his furry head for…what? Petting?

  “Insufferable.” He pushed the blocky head off his scales, which cooled rapidly in the night air. “No common sense at all.”

  Though cold, the wood felt more natural than skulking around the human ruins where the boy had confronted the contingent of ghouls. Taking their prize was a bold move worthy of any predator. Numbers did not tell the entire story there. The humans were overmatched by far. Uktena nearly slithered in to level the field. His council oaths chafed and prevented him from helping either side prevail. But his promises allowed sufficient room to ensure conflicts did not get out of claw.

  The pleasing warmth was back along his hide and beneath his talons. He blinked down at the furry neck caressing his paw, or perhaps it was the other way around. The damned dog was crafty.

  Uktena huffed out a breath and ran talons over the boney head, careful to avoid damaging the insipid animal. All in all, it was a satisfying sensation. The dog shifted, forcing him to scratch down the shaggy neck and between the shoulder blades. His jumbled thoughts settled. So much was in motion, and yet so little was of true import.

  Tia focused on the wrong things. The goddess might be powerful and old, but she thought like prey, scurrying about and trying to look in all directions at once. Watching for jackals did no good when cheetahs lurked in the tall grass. The council diluted its resources and focus to the point of impotence. The conflict would obviously materialize here near the human boy, yet Uktena alone had been sent to monitor things.

  The situation rankled, but played to his solitary nature. At least the lesser buffoons from the council weren’t under claw and making a mess. With so many darklings near, he would have to move carefully if action to maintain balance was required. Sheer numbers could overcome the greatest of hunters, but his stealth and cunning would prevail. Taking action—any action—would relieve the blasted boredom.

  His attentions had moved from head to tail and back again as the insistent canine shifted and presented various parts of itself. He liked the contrast of its blocky skull and soft ears against his pads, but drew back in alarm as Max shook his head viciously, ears slapping scales. The violent motion subsided a moment later, and Uktena released a breathy sigh. Now he’d have to start all over. He stretched a claw forward, but paused as a lump of fur plopped on his foot.

  Uktena regarded the mass of brown and white as warm saliva oozed between his talons. A tiny nose, pink tongue, and shining eyes looked up from a furry head that dangled off to one side of the main body.

  “Honest kill, little hunter, but slim picking for your dinner bowl.”

  Uktena reached for the strange doll, but pulled up short at the animal’s warning growl.

  “I shall not steal your prize.”

  The growl changed to a whine. Max nosed the thing between the dragon’s forelegs and stared him in the eye.

  “What?” Uktena backed away, but the silly animal flipped the disemboweled rabbit closer and gingerly arranged its legs so it lay flat.

  A sort of warmth very much like the feel of the dog on his flank radiated along the bond, a gentle vibration and a thought—no, a memory. The majestic buckskin with the broken leg again lay before him trembling in pain. The dog pleaded with those insufferable eyes, communicating in a way that should not be possible. The echo of his memory-self bent to heal the horse.

  Uktena looked from toy rabbit to pleading dog, sighed, and reached out with his magic.

  25. Bad Connection

  “M

  AX, GET BACK HERE.” I poked around the thorny bushes, wondering how my dino-dog managed to squeeze into the hedge.

  Max got a good long visit with the local flora as I sorted through my jumbled thoughts. He must be ready for his cookie. On the lake side of the thicket, I shined my light into a narrow break that might not perforate me too badly.

  “This better not ruin my jacket.”

  I tucked my arms in tight, preparing to shimmy through sideways, but stopped at a high-pitched whine. Max sat in the middle of the grass, his mouth full of wadded up toy. He thumped his tail as I turned away from the bushes with a sigh.

  ***

  “Thanks, David, is Mr. Conti available? Ed has a question. Over.” Jinx scooted aside so I could sit in front of the mic.

  “Give me a minute. Over.” David’s voice was crisp and clear this morning thanks to perfect atmospherics.

  I swigged down a sip of hot, bitter coffee. Morning came way too early. I didn’t sleep well when Max stayed with the girls, plus images of Manfred planning more mischief for the Brights kept playing through my head. With Randy gone, Jinx took over radio operations for the infrequent calls home. Quinn lounged on the sofa, and Billy rummaged around outside.

  “Hello, is this on?” We all could have heard the boss without the radio and cringed as he tapped something metal on his mic.

  “No need to shout, Mr. Conti. Just speak normal like you’re on a phone. Over.” I turned down the volume just to be safe.

  “Okay, Edan. How are you holding up?”

  We had already discussed Randy’s death with the folks back home. New Philly authorities coordinated with the Milwaukee constables to recover his body and personal effects. The boss was a friend of Sheriff Connolly so probably knew more than most about the situation. That linkage with the police and the station manager’s other networks were what I hoped to exploit.

  “Everyone’s pulling together on this end. Mr. C, you told me to come to you if I need help.” I gave Jinx a sideways look, not sure what he would make of my request. “Would you be willing to pull some data together? I need information on Double M Records and complaints the police have received along our route.”

  Jinx raised an eyebrow and slid off the bench to refill his coffee. The independent broadcasters maintained robust contacts in most of the country’s remaining industries. The network helped them coordinate logistics and get the word out in spite of our crappy infrastructure.

  I asked for information on the company’s business plan, where they were headquartered, and basic stats on their holdings and corporate agenda. I dropped hints that a bit of background on Mr. Slack would be useful, but refrained from voicing my growing concern he helped the Grims.

  “Let me see what I can find,” Mr. C concluded. “Are you again having problems with Malocchio?”

  The word was Old Italian for the evil eye, a favored method of casting curses. When I discussed my problems last year, he told me in all earnestness about the magic of his homeland. To bring that up now meant the boss read more between the lines than I’d given him credit for.

  “Something like that, but things are under control. Any info you can dig up will sure help.” I didn’t need my boss finding out his superstitions were child’s play compared to the real thing.

  “Interesting times here too. Quite the show out on your friend’s farm.”

  “What happened?” I kicked myself for not finding time to follow up.

  “A few leftover locusts, but mostly weeds.”

  “Not exactly newsworthy.”

  “These were.” Mr. Conti’s pause had me worried he felt insulted. “Strange weeds the Eastons never encounter. They had to burn the soybeans. The state agriculture center took samples and are still working to identify the species.”

  I thought back to the strange plants around my fountain, how I saw similar shoots when we battled the bug swarm, then again here pushing up through the rubble of the parking lot. This plant must be plenty aggressive if Pete’s family was burning crops to get rid of it. It certainly explained why everyone was busy when we called.

  “Are they poisonous?” I asked

  “No, just tenacious. It’s showing up in the damnedest places. When you get back, check our special report an
d the archived video footage.”

  We swapped a little more news before signing off. The boss promised to let me know as soon as he had details.

  “What’s that all about?” Jinx asked as he powered down the radio.

  “Just curious,” I said.

  “Really? Sounds to me like you’re digging for dirt on our record label.” Jinx crossed his arms, his mouth a thin line.

  “No, I—”

  “Ed’s helping me out.” Quinn came to my rescue. “I figure there’s a good chance of them offering us a long-term contract. More information on the company means better bargaining when it comes time to negotiate.

  Jinx gave a thoughtful nod, his tense posture easing. It was nine by the time we finished coffee and headed over to check on Anna and Piper.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Quinn spun me around by the elbow when we were out of sight of the RV.

  “Just calling in a favor from the boss.”

  “I covered for you and deserve the truth. Why are you snooping on Manny?”

  There it was, the real reason she was upset. Thanks to Max I hadn’t gotten to explain about the police reports, how Manfred was clearly hiding something, and what I’d seen on the man’s computer. Piper and I discussed what I’d discovered, but by the time my dog emerged from the bushes Quinn had gone back to her room. Now was as good a time as any, except her posture said she wasn’t interested in a reasonable discussion.

  “Listen, I know you like the guy, but—”

  “Don’t throw bullshit out.” Quinn stomped in a tight circle and glared. “Your little holier-than-thou and woe’s me attitude is getting old. Manny’s done nothing but good by the band.”

  “Maybe, but I’m telling you, he knows what’s going on. By the look of it, he has every Bright that’s been a target queued up on his computer. If he isn’t working with the Grims, why have that?”

  “Ed, be a man and ask him instead of skulking around.” She spun on her heels and stormed toward Piper’s room.

  That’s stupid. Manfred effectively threw me out of his office rather than discuss his notes and the Grims. I hurried to catch up, drawing in a lungful of damp lake air and wondering how guys dealt with women without going insane. I wanted to talk this through, explain what I knew in my gut to be true. The set of Quinn’s shoulders and the way she kept her eyes forward made it clear even an apology at this point would only lead to trouble. Anything I said was going to be wrong.