by R D Martin
“Are you coming?” the stone Golem asked in a voice matching its appearance.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry,” Bella replied, stepping into the elevator and turning around. On this side, the doors had a brushed copper color that did a good job of hiding both her blush and her appearance.
As the elevator descended, she went through the worries in her head, trying to sort and categorize them as best she could. However, one thought seemed to dominate all the others. She had a date. Tonight. With William. The smile that crept up her face seemed to want to become a permanent part of her features, but disappeared as a jumble of thoughts crowded her mind. What was she going to wear? Did he consider it a date? Was it a date? Did she have time to get ready? What had she gotten herself into?
Chapter 10
At a few minutes after four o’clock, Bella pushed open the lobby doors to her building and, squinting in the late afternoon sunlight reflecting off the building across the street, looked around for William. He’d called only minutes before to let her know he’d arrived and would wait for her outside her building. As she caught sight of him, leaning against the side of an expensive car, her breath hitched a bit. Even on the street, he was still every bit the gorgeous man he was in the office. His skin glowed as though he walked in a personal spotlight and his eyes would not let her look away. There was a very fleeting moment when she wished this was a date and the two of them could forget why they were together.
“You look… nice,” he said, stepping away from the edge of the curb and opening the car door.
“Thank you,” she said, sliding into the car’s leather interior. She’d tried to look her best, going through half a dozen outfits and applying enough makeup her face would have cracked had she smiled. Until Cat, in his usual sarcastic manner, reminded her that this wasn’t really a date and there wasn’t any use in getting dressed up. Either he would like her as she was, or he wouldn’t. So she’d selected a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket, put her hair up in the back and settled into a long wait. It was almost a relief when her phone rang.
The trip to Ten Three Eight wasn’t a long one, and before either of them noticed, they pulled to a stop across the street. Even at this hour, long before dark, it looked as though people were already beginning to line up. Sunlight glinted off the lens of more than a couple cameras, giving away the early bird paparazzi hoping to be the first to take pictures of tonight’s celebs. A few of the photographers pointed in her direction but were disappointed when she stepped out.
Walking into the club, the second for her in as many days and a new personal record, she gawked at the differences between Ten Three Eight and Club Luna. To begin with, while Club Luna seemed to follow a consistent theme throughout, this place looked as if it was designed by an escapee from a mental hospital doped up on acid.
The entrance of the club, at least once past the coat check and down a short hallway, was flanked on either side with winding oak bars that extended past their wall and halfway down the adjacent one. Attached to the front of each bar were neon strips that flashed alternate colors in tune with the music thumping overhead. Following the sound, she spotted the deejay booth high in the dark recesses above the bar. Farther in, columns that appeared scattered about and cut in half jutted out from every conceivable surface. Some of them were missing top sections, while others hung from the ceiling like giant broken teeth. Each column had a string of white lights wrapped around it, giving off a steady glow, while the rest of the club was lit by a mixture of purple, red and green lights.
Even without crowds, she couldn’t help feeling lost in the jumble of lights and sound. So much so in fact that she didn’t even see the bouncer, a large man in a black suit and tie and a white shirt, bearing down on them with the obvious intent to show them the door.
William, attentive to the situation, stepped up to meet the bouncer, greeting the man like an old friend before passing across something that looked like a business card. A moment later, the bouncer made a quick turn and disappeared into the club’s recesses. William returned to her side, smirking the entire time.
“What did you say to him?” she asked, more than a little curious.
“Nothing really, just hi,” he said with a smug satisfaction that would give Cat a run for his money.
“Oh, come off it. What did you say to him?”
“Nothing. Really.”
“William…”
“Okay, if you must know.” He paused, letting the tension grow. If he was expecting another reaction, he didn’t get it as she kept staring at him. “I told him we were from the insurance company and they sent us to do an inspection.”
“That was…”
“Brilliant? Forward thinking? Masterful? I take compliments of any denomination. And cash.”
“Stupid,” she said with a tone both flat and reproachful at the same time. This time it was William’s turn to look surprised. “They'll call the company. Even if they don’t, they’re going to know we’re not the ones on the insurance policy.”
“Thought of that first.” The grin returned as if it had never left, only this time it was larger and showed more of his teeth. “The good news is they are our clients. We service the policy. The better news is their policy requires semiannual visits. They aren’t due one for another couple of months, but by then they’ll have forgotten all about us.”
To her surprise, she nodded along with the idea. Because of the huge expense that went into setting up a club like this, not to mention all the licenses and so forth necessary to keep it running, insurance companies often had people checking up on them, if only to make sure they were compliant. If they weren’t, an insurance company wouldn’t pay out on any claims. Adjusters and inspectors weren’t liked by business owners, but they saved companies billions.
“Hey, wait. How do you know this?” It seemed an obvious question, but apparently one William hoped not to be asked since, even in the less than ideal lighting of the club, she could see the tips of his ears turning red.
“I, well, I… that is to say…”
“Come on, spill.”
“Well, I was hoping to take a date here and needed a backup in case they weren’t going to let us in.” The embarrassment in his confession was so thick she could have sliced it with a knife.
“Ah, I see. And don’t you think they’d have recognized the stunt if you walked up with a date in tow? Were you using the head on your shoulders or is a more… southerly point your default logic center?”
“I didn’t do it. Besides, it was just in case we couldn’t get in. Doesn’t matter anyway, she…” He stopped, clenching his teeth together so hard it would have been easy to hear them grinding together if not for the loud thumping music.
“She what?” Bella asked, trying very hard not to laugh. There were only two reasons a guy would come up with an idiotic plan like that, and both of them involved a woman. Either he was trying to impress her with the hope of a romantic relationship later, or he was trying to…
William mumbled something before she could finish the thought.
“Sorry, say again?”
“I said she ghosted me, all right? She saw some friends in line and walked in with them. The bouncer wouldn’t let me in.”
She couldn’t help laughing. Try as she might, the image of him caught on the wrong side of the rope as his date left had her in stitches.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. You didn’t deserve it.”
The anger drained from his features like air from a deflated tire. She was just about to apologize again, this time with a little sincerity thrown in, when she saw the bouncer returning, accompanied by a very squat, very round man that reminded her of an overripe fruit about to burst. As he got nearer, she adjusted her vision of him. He didn’t look like a ripe fruit so much as a fat sow walking on its hind legs. Even the man’s ears, pointed and covered with sparse tufts of hair, gave him the look of an intelligent pig.
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br /> The bouncer pointed them out, and the round man marched up to them with the same indifference as a tank would have for a wall. Surprisingly, with all the marching the fat man had done to reach them, he didn’t seem to be out of breath at all.
“So, you’re the two from the insurance company?” he asked in a voice that sounded like the man was trying to speak through a haze of helium. High pitched and tinny. Without giving them more than a chance to nod, the fat man turned, ordering them to follow without a backward glance.
The trio passed through the club proper and into one of the many service areas that kept the place running smoothly regardless of the action out front. And if these corridors were the arteries of the club, then the heavy black door they were being led to was the club’s brain center. Pushing the door open, the manager strode through, brushing both sides. As she walked through, she felt a warm breeze play across her skin as if someone had left a window open and warm summer wind had snuck in. Shaking the feeling, she took a moment to examine the office they’d been let into. Unlike the club out front, this room was undecorated, the sole exception being the thick red leather executive chair behind the desk.
“So,” the manager said, looking at the business card on his desk. “You’re here from the insurance company.” Leaning over, he retrieved a manila folder and, riffling through its contents for a moment, pulled out a sheaf of papers thick enough to be a phone book. Thumbing about halfway through it, he came to a stop, bending the top half of the policy agreement. “All right, it says that I’m supposed to get inspected, but I’ve had this policy for less than two months. You guys shouldn’t be coming here for at least another month, right?”
“Quite right, sir,” she agreed with the rotund man. As soon as she heard the words, though, she wanted to clap her hand over her mouth. Why had she agreed with him?
“And they’d send a reminder before sending an adjuster out, right?”
This time it was William’s turn to agree with him, though she could see him struggling with his answer even as he nodded.
“So why are you here? Do you even work for the company?”
She felt herself bristling. How could this fat little man even ask such a question?
“Of course we do,” she said even as William said no. His answer set her back a bit, but her indignation made her forge ahead. “I have been working for the company for almost…” The fat man, beady eyes twinkling as though he was finding a source of enjoyment in their discomfort, sat up and, putting the tips of his fingers together, stared at her as though they were the only ones in the room.
“Why are you here?”
As though a dam inside her had blown wide, she began telling her tale, of her encounter with Ronnie and the missing girl, her trip to the Circus, and her disastrous adventure at Club Luna. She even let slip her momentary hope of turning this evening into a real date. A few times William tried to interrupt her, but she rolled over anything he said, pushing it out of her way to continue as though she only had until the end of this breath to finish. As her tale wound down, the fat man across from her leaned back in his chair, staring in a manner that seemed more thoughtful than hostile, and drummed his fingers on the desk.
“Is that all?” he asked in the silence after she finished.
“No.”
“No? Then please, tell me what is.”
“I’m still trying to figure out what you are.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from William beside her. He had to have known something was wrong, but he’d been just as trapped in the situation as she. The difference was he hadn’t just spilled his guts to the fat club manager. He hadn’t experienced the violation she’d just gone through. It was, in her opinion, no different than someone breaking into her home and posting her diary online for everyone to see. There wasn’t any other way to describe it, at least not to him.
Regardless of what they’d been planning or thinking, both Bella and William startled when the man began laughing behind his desk. Only, somehow, he didn’t seem so fat, though he remained just as squat. In short order the man deflated so much that, instead of looking like an overripe fruit, he now looked like an underfed stick. The beady little eyes now looked large and round. What’s more, they shone with the intelligence of someone who’d been everywhere and seen everything. Long, slender fingers now slapped on the desk as with every guffaw, every hilarious chuckle, the man changed. The only thing in common with the person he was before was his height. The now skinny man was still short.
As if to add a final punch line to a joke only he heard, the manager pointed to the wall behind them. Craning her neck around to see what the man was pointing at, she only saw the door at first. Confused, she squinted a bit, and that’s when she saw the runes. Glowing a soft forest green that blended in with the door frame were a variety of runes that, if she read them right, meant truth. Anyone walking in through that door would not only be unable to lie, but have to speak the entire truth as they knew it.
“The hell,” shouted William, jumping to his feet and sending his chair skittering away behind him. “What is that? What did you do to Bella? Who… what are you?”
“Peace, human,” said the being behind the desk. As he said the words, it was as though an invisible blanket fell over the room. William visibly calmed, and she felt herself becoming lethargic with her anger simply gone. “Sorry for my little joke, but it’s rare two witches, one powerful enough for me to feel from my office, come to see me. Claiming to be from the insurance company was a good idea. Alex wouldn’t have let you in otherwise. He would be so disappointed to learn you tricked him. He’s sensitive, you know.”
“Sorry for Alex,” William said, retrieving his chair and taking a seat again.
“Yes, sorry for Alex,” she intoned. “But that still doesn’t tell us who or what you are.”
“What? The ears didn’t give me away? I’m telling you, these younger generations…” The man shook his head as though that was his final word on the younger generations. Clearing his throat and straightening to his full height, he grabbed the lapel of his coat and said, “I, my dear, am a Pooka.”
His announcement was accompanied by a quiet so profound crickets would have been embarrassed to disturb it.
“A Pooka? Shapeshifter? C’mon, ye must hae hurd of us.” A deep Celtic brogue, one that lay hidden in the background, emerged in his speech, making it harder to understand him. “A Pooka, for all that’s… You know. An Irish devil.”
Again nothing. The Pooka shook his head, muttering under his breath about the downfall of society and the ignorance of today’s youth.
“So you two came here for help, did ya?” the Pooka said after a few minutes of muttering. “Thousands of years of helpin’ humans and they can’t even bother rememberin’. Well, can’t be helped.” Hopping down from his chair, the Pooka started pacing back and forth on the floor behind his desk. The way its bald head kept popping up and down as it paced reminded her of a ball caught in an ocean surf, bobbing up and down as the waves tried to drown it. By the time the motion stopped, she’d started feeling seasick.
The Pooka jumped back in its chair and, with a smile on its face, leaned in toward his guests as though about to tell them a secret of the universe.
“All right,” he said. The voice was still high pitched, though there was an edge of excitement to it. “From what you’ve described, your friend Ronnie has been taken by a Lank.” Seeing the looks of bafflement on their faces, he continued. “Not surprised you don’t recognize them, especially since you don’t know of my kind. Lanks are, well, spirits and not spirits. They are those that died, starved for something, and refused to move on until they find what they starved for.”
Bella wanted to ask the obvious question, but William beat her to it. “So, someone dies of hunger and they turn into… what did you call them, a Lank?”
“No, not as such. See, boy, people die of hunger all the time. For someone to twist themselves into a Lank, they have to die starvi
ng for something they’ve never had. Not just never had either. It has be something that is so deep a part of them that not getting or experiencing it is like having a knife twisting in your gut all your days.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Well, like anything. Could be a mother’s love if they were an orphan. Could be freedom if they’re a slave. I once heard of a priest turning into a Lank because his berries were removed and he never, well, you know. Point is, it possesses your friend. If he’s still alive, he could be saved. If not, well, now you know why your cat hurt it so much. They’re guardians of the dead, after all.”
“And what about Samantha? Is there a way for me to get through the spell blocking her? She’s still in the city. Maybe with your help we can power through.”
“I’m sorry, lass, I am. But my magic doesn’t work that way. See, Pookas, well, we’re helpers. Come to us asking for what you want and we’ll help you find it as best we can, but our magic will always point you toward what you need. Remember, wanting something and needing it are different things. You want a million dollars, but what you need is happiness. So our magic will point you to the person who will make you happiest. Some of us get up to mischief sometimes, make you think marrying the shepherd boy, you’ll find a million dollars, but our magic isn’t ours to control. It’s great and powerful, to be sure, but it’s wild and will do what it wants.”
It was almost as if her heart was breaking again. Her hopes had lifted so high in talking to the Pooka, only to be smashed down. Even as she wallowed in her own pity, William was asking the question she knew she should have.
“So, what does your magic say we need?” The conviction in his voice was enough, though just barely, to bring her out of her torpor. Not for the first time, she was glad to have his company even though it wasn’t a date.
“That. Well, that’s the confusing part. My magic’s telling me you need a weapon. Not just any weapon, but something old. Old and powerful. Something made to kill, well, anything.”
