Harley Merlin 12

by Bella Forrest

  Luke snorted. “Okay, okay, so it’s been a little difficult.”

  “But…” I brandished the rolled-up map. “Satan didn’t jab me in the ass, the creatures didn’t drag me down, I put out all the fires, and I trudged through that damn swimming pool to the other side!”

  Melody gasped. “You did it?! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I wanted to tell you together so I could enjoy double the admiration.” I grinned at her.

  “Oh… but my parents. They’re really eager to meet you. It’s not often we get a celebrity in San Jose.” Melody floundered. “You don’t want to go straight to Erebus, do you? Please, it won’t take long. They just want to have dinner with you, and then we can go.”

  “Dinner sounds good to me. I’ve been in my head for at least fourteen hours today. I could use some grub.” I didn’t want to disappoint her. She was impossible to say no to, with that adorable cherub face. “Which brings me to my next point: Why didn’t someone check on me? Anyone would think you didn’t care.” I pretended to pout.

  Melody frowned. “Mary kept me informed. Didn’t she tell you?”

  “No, she didn’t. Then again, I didn’t ask.”

  “She’s a good egg.” Melody smiled. “She would’ve told me if something bad had happened. Especially as she seems rather taken with you.”

  “Wouldn’t that be a reason not to tell you if something bad had happened?” I replied.

  “No! She’s not like that. She’d never wish death on someone, after what she’s been through,” Melody scolded. “Besides, she’s fond of a few of the men here, and they’re all still alive. My dad is one of them. My mom has taken Mary aside a few times, to tell her to stop flirting with him. And it’s not easy to take a ghost aside when they disappear through walls whenever they want.”

  I grinned. “See, you’re perfect at landing punchlines.”

  Melody beamed. “Come on, we shouldn’t keep my parents waiting—and we shouldn’t keep you from eating after what you’ve achieved today, Finch. I’d say you definitely deserve a little celebration.”

  She led the way, since I was clueless about navigating this place. We headed downstairs to a country-style kitchen with a big wooden table. Two people were already sitting with half-empty glasses of wine. They looked up as we entered, before rising to greet us.

  “The famous Finch Merlin!” The woman came right over and pulled me into a hug. I froze, unsure what to do with my hands. So I just let them hang limp at my sides.

  “Most folks go with ‘infamous,’” I joked as she pulled away.

  “Nonsense. We’ve heard all about you, and I’d say you’ve done more good than bad recently. Isn’t that right, darling?” She glanced at her husband.

  He nodded. “Oh yes.”

  “This is my mom, Cecily, and this is my dad, Richard.” Melody gestured to them in turn.

  Cecily was a striking woman of almost six feet, with a willowy frame and silky black hair coiled in an elegant bun. Melody looked a lot like her. She had the same big eyes, though she wasn’t tall like her mother. Richard was a well-groomed man in his mid-forties, with a full head of brown hair and a stocky build that couldn’t have been more opposite to his wife’s.

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said. Richard had a firm handshake, which reminded me of my first meeting with Melody. She’d told me her dad always said you could tell a lot by a person’s handshake, so I made it the firmest damn handshake I’d ever given in my life.

  “Let’s have a toast, shall we?” Cecily declared.

  “Be rude not to, after we hauled six boxes of wine all the way back from Germany,” Richard replied, with a weary roll of his eyes. “Melody’s mother can’t resist a Riesling.”

  “I really can’t.” Cecily ushered us to the table and poured wine for Luke and me, while Richard poured something fruity and fizzy for Melody.

  I took a tentative sip, letting it slip down my throat to warm my empty stomach. A surefire recipe for disaster. “You’ve been in Germany?”

  “Mmm, yes. We had business in Berlin,” Cecily replied. “There’s a German ghost here who wants to cross over, but he can’t until he finds out what happened to his family. Seeing as he died such a long time ago, it took some digging.”

  “I had my spade out and everythin’.” Richard chuckled, sipping his wine. His Southern accent made me want to instantly warm to him, but I couldn’t. Maybe it was because of Blanche, maybe it was something else, but I felt oddly detached from the situation. Even the wine didn’t help to loosen me up.

  “You’ll make Finch think we’re body-snatchers, talking like that,” Cecily chided, giving him a despairing look.

  He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Who says we aren’t?”

  “Do you do that a lot, then?” I thought of Mary, who couldn’t give up this existence just yet.

  “It keeps things interestin’. Be no good just sittin’ here, twiddlin’ our thumbs,” Richard replied. “The business takes care of itself, so we do what we can to keep the specters happy. Wouldn’t do, being the only Winchester to abandon the family promise.”

  I frowned. “The business?”

  “This here house is the business.” Richard waved a hand around. “It was my Cecily’s idea to monetize the haunted house thing. I’d never have thought of it, and I wasn’t too keen on the idea at first. It seemed like too much risk. But she convinced me—she always does. I guess that’s why she’s the brains and I’m the brawn. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

  “Someone had to bring some life into this place, if you’ll pardon the pun.” Cecily smiled at her husband, a hint of exasperation in her voice. A thread of friction existed between them—what I’d expect from a long-married couple who weren’t the idyllic Smiths, existing in a romantic fairytale of their own creation. But they looked at each other like they loved each other, instead of wanting to wring each other’s necks. Mostly. Maybe a tiny bit of neck-wringing.

  “Don’t let the specters hear ya.” Richard put his hand over Cecily’s and stroked it gently, diffusing the minor tension, before nodding toward a few ghosts I hadn’t noticed. They floated around, one sweeping without a broom and the other making the motions of dusting off the mantelpiece. As if they were stuck on servitude loops from their previous lives.

  “Oh, they never pay me any attention anyway. I’m not the one with Winchester blood.” Cecily rolled her eyes. “That Mary Foster never listens, at any rate.”

  I attempted a smirk. “I’ve been hearing about her.”

  “Don’t tell me she’s gooey-eyed over you, too.” Cecily swirled her wine like a pro.

  “I wouldn’t say gooey-eyed, but it’s hard to tell with ghosts.”

  “Would you like me to have a word?” she offered.

  I shook my head. “No, that’s okay. She’s been pretty helpful.”

  “I will, if you want me to. She’s scared enough young men out of this house.” Cecily tapped her elegant fingernails on the stem of her glass. Clearly, Mary had pissed her off one too many times.

  “Easy, tiger,” Richard soothed. “You know I never entertain her flirtations.”

  Cecily arched a perfect eyebrow. “You say that, but I’ve seen you blush when she tells you she likes your suit.”

  “Compliments are embarrassin’!” he protested.

  “And when I compliment you, where are your blushes then?” she replied.

  “When do you ever give me a compliment?” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

  Cecily shrugged. “On special occasions.”

  “You’ll have to refresh my memory. There was Christmas in 1998, but that was a long time ago,” Richard said.

  “Don’t give our guest the wrong idea. I compliment you plenty,” Cecily muttered. I guessed they did this a lot, judging by Melody’s face. She looked like she wanted to crawl under a rock and stay there.

  “What’s it like, Richard, being non-magical in a place like this?” I felt antsy and needed to change the subject.


  “I’m used to it. It’s all I’ve ever known, so it’s not too shockin’ to the old system.”

  “So, you must be a magical, Cecily. Is that right?” I stared into my drink, trying to center myself. I didn’t feel right. I’m tired, that’s all.

  Cecily nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Is that how Melody ended up magical?” My hand trembled on the stem of my glass, and I couldn’t get it to stop. I’d been fine until a few minutes ago, but it was like someone had flipped a switch and now I struggled to act normal. I hoped that if I kept talking, I’d be okay. This was probably just the residual effects of the map-making kicking me in the caboose. I’d been out for ten hours—that was bound to leave an impression.

  “Actually, that came as a surprise,” Cecily explained, casting a warm glance at her daughter. “The Winchester line has been without magic for generations. It may have been caused by the Kolduny spell put on this house; we don’t know for sure. Anyway, the Winchesters only had sons until our Melody was born. None of those sons had magical abilities. And then, along came Melody, complete with Chaos—a true cause for celebration. I was convinced she’d be a boy, but Richard kept saying we’d have a girl. I suppose he won that one.”

  Richard smiled. “Yup, that I did. And I haven’t let her forget I was right, just that once. Got to take my wins where I can get ‘em.”

  “You must be proud of her.” I took a deep gulp from my glass, praying it’d help.

  “Very proud,” they chorused in unison.

  “Light of our lives, ain’t that right?” Richard blew an air kiss at Melody, who blushed furiously.

  “Dad!”

  He chuckled. “What? I can’t tell my little girl I’m proud of her?”

  My hand tremors eased slightly. I wasn’t sure if it was the wine kicking in, but I could breathe again, and the weird feeling dissipated. See, it was just the map-making messing with you. Every time my brain gave its input, I thought of Puffball—that cute yet terrifying manifestation of my mind gremlins.

  I should’ve been grinning like an idiot right now, joining in the fun, but I’d been double-crossed and stabbed in the back one too many times. I had a hard time trusting anyone these days, even Melody’s parents. But I made an effort to be charming, nonetheless. I wouldn’t ruin our little get-together.

  Three

  Finch

  I sat in the shower, my knees tucked up to my chin, my eyes closed. The hot water cascaded over me, and I liked the way it drowned out everything else.

  I hadn’t slept a wink last night, and my stomach gnawed with hunger. I’d thought the wine had helped for a short time, but it only ended up making me vomit. So, after that little trip to the bathroom, I cut out early from dinner with Melody’s parents, claiming illness before I even touched a bite. But it wasn’t the food I had no stomach for. It made me sound bitter and twisted, but I couldn’t stand to sit there and watch all that fluffy love and happiness. They had nothing to worry about. They had each other.

  But me? I had a horrible, growing fear that this wouldn’t end well for me. I couldn’t trust anybody, not even myself. Erebus had eyes and ears everywhere, even in his human form. And my paranoia led to darker questions. Would he leave me alive at the end of all this? Why wouldn’t he just tie up that loose end? But it wasn’t as if I could just throw in the towel on Atlantis, because that’d end the same way, only sooner.

  You’re tired. You haven’t slept. Your mind has been working overtime for two days.

  But given how Erebus had found his way to Kenzie, and how he’d fooled me into getting him a body, and how he’d strung me along with his friggin’ breadcrumbs… the paranoia might not have been in my head. And now Ryann was involved, which just added a truckload of terror to my overextended brain. What if Kenzie couldn’t wipe her mind? What if Erebus didn’t let her? Or… what if something happened, and she couldn’t get her memories back from wherever Kenzie wanted to store them?

  She’ll forget about you. Ah, those were the mind gremlins I knew, kicking me when I was down. Or maybe they were giving me the best solution when it came to Ryann. A true escape from all of the danger and trouble she was mixed up in because of me.

  Stop wallowing and get your ass out of this shower. I had places to be, and none of this would fix itself by staying here. Erebus had sent me a message. No mirrors, no blood-smeared windows, just a good, old-fashioned text message. No one was more shocked than me. I didn’t know if it was because of his human body, or if it had something to do with the Winchester House, but he seemed to have entered the digital age. And badly, at that. It was less of a text, more of a letter, and he’d clearly had a few issues with autocorrect.

  Dear Flinch,

  Meet me at the Clearist Industrial Pork at 11 o’clock in the morning. Bay 4, near the refuse collection. Do not disappoint me. You have had apple time. Three days, as agreed. If you do not have the mop by now, then you know the prize you will have to pay. I will be waiting.

  Best regards,

  Error bus.

  Reluctantly, I clambered out of the shower and dressed. It’d probably take me an hour to find an exit, and then I’d have to figure out how to get to the Clearist Industrial Park. At least I knew Erebus wouldn’t have reason to kill me today. I had his map, and he still needed me to find his gateway. So, that bought me a little more time, even if it just delayed the inevitable.

  Man, I’m laying it on thick, aren’t I? I had to snap out of this funk, fast.

  I pulled up to the industrial park, stopping just shy of a building with a big number “4” emblazoned on the side. I’d gone for a cab in the end, and I hadn’t had much trouble getting out of the Winchester House. Mary had helped me find the front door after swooping in on my aimless wandering.

  “Can you circle the block for a bit?” I asked the cabbie.

  He nodded. “Sure, though it’ll cost you.”

  “That’s fine.” I’d rather shell out some cash instead of trying to hail another cab out here. And I really didn’t want to walk back. I got out and watched the cab move off before heading for the warehouse. It took a couple of minutes to find the dumpsters, but Erebus was nowhere to be seen.

  “Finch! Over here!” a deep voice hissed. I whipped around to find my old pal Erebus poking his head out of a nearby alleyway.

  “What, this wasn’t clandestine enough for you?” I asked as I headed toward him.

  Erebus raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

  “Nothing. I just didn’t think you’d call me into some back alley in the middle of nowhere. You know this is the beginning of every True Crime documentary I’ve ever seen, right?” I sensed Erebus had a penchant for playing gangster. Even the weather had decided to cooperate, with gray clouds rolling in overhead and the first spits of rain starting to fall.

  “Never mind that. Do you have what I require, or not?” Erebus ignored me and held out his hand.

  “You think I’d be here if I didn’t?”

  He smirked. “I honestly couldn’t say. Perhaps you would be foolish enough to come empty-handed. It’s not as if you could hide from me. I may not have my usual skills, but I have my ways, and I am excellent at improvisation.”

  Why did you have to say that? The creeping paranoia set in and bristled up the back of my neck.

  “Well, I’ve got it, so I guess we’ll never know,” I managed to reply, swallowing my fear. Delving into my jacket pocket, I removed the folded map and handed it to him. His eyes lit with excitement as he took it from me.

  “Excellent work, Finch. I knew you had it in you.” He smoothed his fingertips across the paper. “However, you look rather weak. You should rest. I would hate for your heart to give out from fatigue before you finish my work.”

  I shook my head. “My heart’s fine, and I’d sleep better if I didn’t have you and your tasks looming over me at all hours.”

  Erebus laughed coldly. “At least I know you’re giving these matters all your attention. Now, speaking of tasks, your next wi
ll be to find the key to the Gateway to Atlantis. But, before you start complaining and despairing, you will be pleased to know that I’m giving you a few days’ respite.”

  “What’s the catch?” Benevolence wasn’t one of his usual qualities.

  “No catch—there are simply a few wrinkles that must be ironed out before you can start that endeavor.”

  I frowned. “Wrinkles?”

  “This body has kept me very busy, now that I no longer have my cosmic form. My various tasks take much longer than I’m accustomed to.”

  “Sounds like you’re the one despairing and complaining,” I observed. “You wanted this, remember?” The smell of the dumpsters stung my nostrils—the sweet, sickly, foul scent of decay. Erebus didn’t seem to notice.

  “Watch yourself, Finch,” he snapped. “Or do you need reminding of how powerful I am, even in this form?”

  I sighed. “No, you’ve proven that. I think I’ve still got a lump on the back of my head from where you knocked me flat.”

  “Good, then let that be a lesson you actually learn.”

  I eyed Erebus closely. “Can I ask a question?”

  “If you must.”

  “What happens if you lose your human body? Do you go right back to being cooped up in Tartarus? Or would something else happen?” I’d been wondering for a while, after finding out that he wasn’t quite as powerful in human form.

  “Mind your own business,” he replied coolly.

  “Can I ask another question?”

  Erebus rolled his eyes. “What now?”

  “You seem pretty chipper, considering Davin already has the map and now we’ve got to figure out this gateway key. Well, I’ve got to figure it out, once you’ve ironed out your wrinkles. We had an edge before, but that advantage seems to be getting smaller—or do you know something I don’t?” I folded my arms across my chest. “I mean, this probably brings him level with us again, right?”