by E. A. Copen
“And how will I find you if I change my mind?”
“Don’t worry about finding me, Highness. I’ll find you.” He slammed the door shut.
I spun around to get a glimpse of him, but the street was empty.
Chapter Six
JOSIAH
I’d have tried a tracking spell if I thought it would work. Alexi probably had some half-rate hedge witch that’d already tried that though. If tracking spells worked, the Greeks wouldn’t be offering favors to a lowlife like me. That meant I had to pull out the big guns to find him, or at least something bigger and better than a routine tracking spell.
I took the Failure record downstairs, popped it in the record player, and sat in the worn armchair to think. Something plastic rustled against my hip and I dug out a tiny Ziploc sandwich baggie of Mary Jane. “I’m starting to like this Stefan fellow,” I mused and went looking for some papers to roll myself a pair.
While I was about, I found a marker and all the ingredients I needed for the spell. Summoning a demon would be easy work. Everything I needed was just casually lying around, including the marker. Whoever’d tossed the place had done me a favor dumping everything out of the kitchen cupboard. I figured with all the mess, Stefan wouldn’t mind if I drew a circle of my own in the living room. If he came back, he could cover it with a rug.
I made my circle, noting the four cardinal directions and placing their corresponding elements on the edge of it: stoneware for earth, an ice cube for water, some incense for air, and my lighter for fire. I placed the last one only after lighting the joint to my satisfaction and positioned myself at the edge of the active circle, flexing my fingers into fists.
Power slipped easily down through coiled muscle, pooling in the palms of my hands, as cool and fluid as water. I opened my fists and let it flow freely into the circle, forming a dome of magic that was as much me as my own flesh and blood. With every drop, the barrier thickened until even air struggled to get through.
Eyes closed, I sent a pulse of magic into the power gathering inside the circle, making the trapped smoke dance. Twisted figures curled and spun, even the thinnest wisps of smoke curling into the beating emerald wings of dragonflies and rainbow-colored jellyfish swimming upside down. I spun a net and cast it, gathering all the smoky creatures into a single pool. Waves rose and crashed into the sides of the circle, testing the boundaries. I’d built the barriers strong enough to hold, even if a storm raged on the inside.
With a snap, I set the smoke on fire. It sparked, exploding like fireworks, and power rained to the ground in the form of sulfuric ash. At first, it seemed to form itself in a haphazard pile, but the more ash rained down, the more the pattern it fell into made sense. In mere seconds, I found myself face to face with a black dog the size of a lion. Two red coals burned in his eye sockets and razor-sharp teeth flashed whenever he spoke, but Valefor was no more dangerous than any other Hellhound, despite appearances.
“Josiah.” He sounded bored. “You’re interrupting my date with a barghest.”
I plucked the joint from between my lips and offered it to him. “Sorry, mate. Business.”
“Don’t be. She was all bark and no bite.” Valefor’s form shifted, changing from his dog-like visage to something more akin to a wolfman. He took the joint and puffed on it. “As far as business goes, I’ll have to respectfully decline involvement. Can’t be seen talking to one of God’s Hand. You understand.”
“It’s not by choice.”
“Just the same, I have my reputation to consider, and my position as King of the Hellhounds. So, unless you’ve got something better than usual to offer me…”
I pointed to the joint he was still puffing on. “You’re smoking it, mate.”
Valefor almost choked on it. He pulled the joint out of his mouth and frowned at it. “Fuck. That’s what I get for accepting gifts from assholes like you, isn’t it? At least it’s decent stuff. Guess that entitles you to something. What is it you want?”
I pulled Stefan’s picture from my pocket, unfolded it, and held it out to the Hellhound. “Need to find this fellow. Seems he’s not too keen to be found.”
He took it with his free hand and studied Stefan’s face. “I know this one.”
I blinked, surprised. “And here I thought we were exclusive, Valefor. I’m hurt.”
“Fuck you, Josiah. And no, that’s not an offer.” He handed the photo back. “For your information, I don’t show up here for my health. I happen to like you more than most. This guy, we don’t exactly talk, but I’ve seen him around.”
“He consorting with demons then?” I asked, tucking the photo back in my pocket.
Valefor shook his head. “Nothing so interesting. He’s an Oracle.”
“Oracle?” Suddenly, some of the pieces fit into the puzzle a little better. That’d explain why he was untouchable at least. Such a role would’ve been important to someone like Alexi, though the exact mechanics of how eluded me. I was too far on the outside the organization to know anything about the Greek mafia’s inner workings.
It also explained the weird, magic-free circle above. He wasn’t using it to cast spells so much as to keep magic out. That room would’ve been his personal sanctuary, a place where he could hold rituals and have visions without the influence of outside powers.
It didn’t explain why he’d dropped everything and gone on the run. “Why’s he running? And how do you know him?”
Valefor shrugged. “Lucifer kept an eye on lots of people. He was younger last time I was sent to look in on the family, and it wasn’t him that was the Oracle back in the day. Would’ve been his mother, Effie. Evie? Something like that. Come to think of it, I recognize this place.” He glanced around. “Could use a clean-up. Guy’s a bit of a slob, huh?”
“What about the other question? Why would he run?”
“That, you’ll have to ask him.” He pinched the end of the joint and tucked it behind his ear to save for later. “You want me to find him?”
“Can you?”
His nose twitched. “Josiah, I’m the King of the Hellhounds. If it has a soul, I can track it. But I’ll need more than a little weed as payment. That only covered the interrogation.”
I sighed and dug into my pockets, coming out with a handful of Adderall which I passed to him. “That cover it?”
He arched an eyebrow. Since when did Hellhounds have eyebrows? “Where do you get this stuff?”
“I’m a resourceful bastard. You want ’em or not?”
His hand closed around the pills. “They’re useless to me, but I know a guy who’d give his right ear for it. Now that’s worth something. The females have been bugging me for a new chew toy. Pregnancy cravings. Do you know how hard it is to find a virgin these days?”
“How long?”
The demon shrugged. “Couple of hours. Dusk at the latest.”
I nodded. “See you then.”
I made a fist and called the power back that held the circle. The edges of it shattered like broken glass and Valefor vanished. I sank back into the armchair, lighting the second joint as the record slipped to the next song. When we found Stefan, I would have to thank him.
I didn’t mean to fall asleep. The last time I’d just closed my eyes, I’d done it in a rainstorm over Danny’s grave half-drunk. Not a good way to rest. My body was sore, and no matter how much I smoked, it wouldn’t fix it. It was only for a few minutes anyway, just until Khaleda came back.
Before I knew it, I’d slipped away into a deep sleep full of dark and troubling dreams.
I’m in a dark room, the only light the flickering candles I’ve placed around me. In front of me sits an antique mirror, but it’s not just any mirror. No, this mirror doesn’t cast a reflection of who you are back at you, but of what you are inside. I am nothing but rotting meat. Emptiness. My heart beats in an exposed ribcage, but it’s twisted and backward. I lift my hands and look at them, see that they’re covered in muscle and flesh, though the reflection tells me otherwi
se. It strips away everything but the bone and tendon and a few meager strands of empty skin.
I feel nothing. No sense of loss looking at myself as a decaying corpse devoid of flesh, no sadness. It’s the same thing I feel when I look at my flesh-covered hand. Emptiness. Apathy. I’m dead inside and out.
Skeletal hands curl into fists. My bones ache with an unfamiliar pain and black loneliness swells, threatening to swallow me. I wrap my arms around my shoulders, hugging tight, but it’s not enough. What little skin remains craves sensation, even as it melts away. I want more than anything to feel, to live, to untwist the shriveling heart in my chest and let it beat right again.
First, I must cast off the broken skin. My fingers claw at my face, pulling away chunks of bloody tissue. I don’t see it in the mirror, only in my hands. The skin on my collarbone is stubborn, but eventually, it too peels away. Soon, I’m naked and exposed down to the guts. The me huddled in the dark room finally matches the reflection, but still, I feel nothing.
And then someone else is there with me. It’s Stefan, just as he appeared in the bathroom mirror, except this time he’s pulling a blanket over my shoulders. No, not a blanket. This is a new skin. It’s mine, but newer. It feels like sitting in a new car.
“Do you like it?” he asks me.
I flex my fingers. For a moment, I feel something, the mildest tingle of sensation at the base of my spine. Just to be sure, I pick at a fingernail until it peels back and comes free. Blood drips down my finger, and slowly, the pain comes back to me.
Chapter Seven
KHALEDA
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I crossed my arms and stared at Josiah. Apparently, while I was being carjacked by a demon, he was busy getting high on some of Stefan’s stash and listening to music. At least, I think it was music. Sounded like a bunch of whining to me.
He jerked awake and blinked once, looking around before checking his hands as if he’d misplaced them. Only then did he seem to remember he had a half-smoked joint in one. He pinched it and put it between his lips before blowing out a mouthful of smoke. “Relax a bit, sweetheart. Not like we’ve got anywhere to be.”
I wrinkled my nose and waved the smoke away. “Maybe you don’t, but I do.”
“Where? Reg hasn’t called with more information on the murder and the Hellhound I sent to find Stefan isn’t back with his location.”
“We could work on figuring out how to get Osric’s soul away from Manus Dei. Or have you forgotten about your promise to help me with that?”
He rolled his eyes. “How can I when you keep bloody bringing it up, woman? Why’d you care so much about his fucking soul? He’s dead. In life, he was a murderer who spent his free time fucking the sanity out of a Faerie queen. You free him, he’s going straight to Hell.”
That was it. The final straw. It was one thing for Josiah to goad me and pick on me, but I wasn’t going to let him talk about my brother that way. I dropped two obsidian daggers into my fists. “Say one more goddamn thing about my brother. I dare you.”
Josiah eyed the daggers and calmly pinched off the end of the joint, putting out the smoke. He tucked it behind his ear and stood cracking his knuckles. “I didn’t know your brother, but if he was anything like you, it’s no wonder he offed himself.”
I screamed and threw a dagger at him. It would’ve hit him if he didn’t jerk to the side just in time. Not that it mattered. I still had him. I kicked him in the chest, making him fall back into the recliner where he stayed when I pressed the second dagger against his neck.
A fire lit behind Josiah’s eyes, the first real emotion I’d seen in him since we came down from that high-rise rooftop in Manhattan. “Go on then. Slice me open and bleed me out. Do it.”
I was suddenly aware of my own heavy breathing, the coiled stiffness in my arm and legs. My posture was all wrong. I’d overextended myself to get into that position, leaving him an easy opening to escape if only he wanted. The problem was, I didn’t think he wanted to.
“Do it!” he screamed, loud enough I had to make an effort not to flinch.
I pulled the dagger away and stepped back. “You want to die so bad, do it your damn self. I won’t be your executioner.” I hid the daggers back up my sleeves and stepped toward the back door.
There was a sudden burst of sound out front, the sound of a car door closing followed by low, masculine voices.
I turned around and met Josiah’s eyes. He’d heard it too.
Josiah pushed himself out of the chair, and both of us slid out of the front room into the kitchen where we’d be out of sight of anyone who came through the front door. He pressed his back against the wall near the door, readying a spell, while I brought out the daggers once again and tried to listen. A feminine voice had joined the men, speaking quick and nervous Greek.
“That’s why I called you,” she said.
“Go back in your house, Mrs. Strathopulous,” answered a tenor male. “Maybe put on the kettle and watch your soaps, huh?”
“Damien, go and keep her company,” said another male voice, this one more nasal than the first. “My apologies, Mrs. Strathopulous. So sorry to have disturbed you. You will, of course, be compensated for your inconvenience.”
A moment later, the hinges on the screen door creaked, and heavy footsteps on the wood floor announced our visitors had come inside. The leader took two small steps, turning slightly in my mind’s eye but not leaving the space directly in front of the door. From the noise his footsteps made, he was a big man, two hundred plus pounds. He wore dress shoes, the kind with the slightly raised heel. From the noise alone I couldn’t gather whether he was armed, but we had to assume that he, along with everyone else with him, was.
“Mister Quinn,” said the nasal male voice, switching to English without a trace of a Greek accent, “Ms. Morningstar. You may as well come out. I know you’re here.”
Josiah glanced over his shoulder at me and shook out his hands. The spell he’d been holding onto disappeared. He must not have wanted to come off as aggressive. I didn’t trust that decision, but I respected it enough to put away my daggers. I could always get them back out if things went sideways.
Josiah stepped around the corner, hands at his sides where they could clearly be seen. “I see you’ve heard of me.”
“You have a reputation. Both of you.” The big man’s eyes slid to me as I moved out of the kitchen, staying close behind Josiah. I felt the weight of his gaze crawl over my skin, too slow not to be deliberate.
Alexi wasn’t as big as I’d initially thought, though he was by no means small. He carried most of his weight in the chest and gut, but that didn’t mean he was weak. You didn’t get to be a mob boss by being weak. He had broad shoulders, wore an expensive blue suit, and kept his dark hair combed meticulously to one side, presenting the image of an affluent businessman.
“Then you have me at a disadvantage, mate. You know who we are, but I know fuck all about you.” He reached to retrieve the joint tucked behind his ear.
Two guns were suddenly out and pointed at us, each man on either side brandishing one. It didn’t stop Josiah from completing the motion of putting what was left of the joint in his mouth to light it up. The guns didn’t go away either, at least not until Josiah held the joint out to the big man.
The big man smiled and pushed the guns pointed at us down. “Forgive my bodyguards. They’re a bit nervous, especially after what happened in Manhattan a few months ago. I’m Alexi Komnosis. You’re standing in my house.”
“Really? Coulda fooled me. And here I was told it belonged to Stefan Nikolaides.” He tried to offer the smoke to Alexi again.
Alexi declined with a wave of his hand. “Stefan, as you can clearly see, isn’t here. He’s been missing for some time. As he has no living relatives, the duty falls to me to maintain the structure in his absence.” He touched his fingers to his chest.
Josiah glanced around. “Well then, I’d say you’re doing a piss-poor job of it. Fuckin’ place is
a wreck.”
Alexi’s strained smile returned with sharper edges. “Let’s dispense with the pleasantries, then. I know you. I know you’re also looking for Stefan. What I don’t know is why. Why does an agent of God’s Hand involve himself in finding my missing man?”
He’s fishing for information. I tightened one hand into a fist. The only reason he’d ask that was if he wasn’t aware Reverend Mirren had slipped the case to us. Maybe he didn’t even know Reverend Mirren was involved. Was the priest at odds with this new boss? I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that said we’d stepped into something much bigger than a missing mobster.
Josiah grunted. “God’s Hand may be reputable and powerful, but the pay is shit. Still have to freelance to feed myself. Livin’ is an expensive hobby.”
“Indeed, it is.” He gestured to his bodyguards and they stepped back outside. Alexi pulled a wooden chair from the corner, pausing to carefully remove the haphazardly stacked books and place them on the floor before spinning it so he could sit. “Although, I am interested to know who hired you as a freelancer if not God’s Hand. You see, Stefan is my cousin by marriage. I’ve looked out for him since we were young. I feel a great loss in his absence. Guilt. So, I’ve made it my personal mission to bring him home safely. That means all efforts to find him so far have been coordinated through me and…Well, no offense, but I wouldn’t involve contractors by choice. I like to handle this sort of thing in-house.”
“I’m sure you do.” Distrust dripped from Josiah’s words, practically taunting Alexi to give up the concerned relative act.
I put a hand on Josiah’s shoulder and slid up past him. “We’d love to answer that question, but, unfortunately, our reputation as freelancers rests on the understanding that we are discreet. We simply can’t give out client information. We have a strict confidentiality policy.”
“I understand.” Alexi nodded and reached into his jacket pocket.
