Dirge of the Dead

by Reed Logan Westgate

  “What’s that?”

  “Had the local boys down in homicide run the boy by the sketch artist. You know, following a hunch.” He dropped the paper in front of her on the table. The resemblance was uncanny. There she was in pencil and charcoal, her face lit by a glowing fist.

  “Nice picture,” was all she could manage to counter with.

  “Indeed, has a certain glow about it. I got to seeing it and thought, now there is a face I have seen before.”

  “But no crime, right? Maybe he just thought saw something he did not. Just a boy on the street, right?”

  “I thought so too, until an addict showed up at the recovery center downtown. He wanted to confess to all his wrongs. Said he saw an angel that showed him the light.”

  “That sounds like a great recovery story. Probably just a drug induced hallucination.”

  “That’s what the boys downtown said, as well. But I went ahead and had the guy meet with a sketch artist as well.” He pulled another sheet from his pile and placed it on the table next to the first. There were slight differences, sure, but aside from her nightmare energy being depicted as a halo, the woman in the picture was either her or her twin.

  “What crime are you investigating again, detective?”

  “Who said anything about an investigation? I thought we were just two people drinking coffee in a diner?”

  “Indeed.” She grabbed her coffee and sipped deeply, feeling suddenly trapped in the small booth.

  “Well, whatever he seen, it scared him to the straight and narrow. I wish him well in his recovery. Whatever he saw probably saved his life, you know? Only a matter of time before he killed someone.”

  “Look detective, this has been fun and flattering, but I really need to go. If you have further ‘questions’ for me I’d like to have an attorney present.” She took a long draw from her coffee and placed it firmly on the table. Reaching into her jeans for her last couple of bills, she slid out of the booth.

  “Law Offices of Baptist, Bernard, and Edwards right? I’d like them present too.” Hawke leaned back smugly, reaching for another jelly doughnut. Xlina turned, eyeing the detective. She slunk back into the booth and placed her hand over one of the remaining doughnuts.

  “If I am staying, I am eating this.” Xlina picked up the powdered doughnut, drawing a smile from the detective.

  “I assumed you were watching your figure,” he leaned forward, dropping the facade and whispering. “What happened in the penthouse?”

  “I don’t...”

  “I know you were there,” he flipped the last sketch over, revealing Tamera and her walking through the front entrance. “The security cameras were toast, complete system fried. The receptionist though, she had a log of all visitors. When I asked if everyone coming and going signed in, she said all but two. So, we brought in the artist.”

  “I had private business.”

  “Can it!” Hawke hissed, slamming his hand on the table. “That penthouse looked like World War three busted in and ran rampant. Owner blames it on a faulty gas line. Oh, they cleaned it up real good. Between the sprinkler system and the fire, not much could be found. They missed something, though. They always do.”

  “What?”

  “Casing from a handgun, semi-automatic, 9 mil. Don’t suppose you carry?” Hawke raised his brow and his lips curled up into a grin. He thought he had her trapped, but it was Tamera’s bullet, not hers.

  “I don’t care for guns,” Xlina answered honestly.

  “See, the thing with guns is the bullet doesn’t just disappear. If you miss, it buries itself in a wall or a ceiling. If you hit and don’t blow through your target, then a gunshot victim checks into one of the local hospitals. There were no bullets in the penthouse walls and the local hospitals are required to report any gsw’s. That means someone is walking around out there with some lead in them.”

  “You sound like you have seen too much tv detective,” Xlina shook her head, feeling more trapped than ever. This guy had it all pieced together. Despite the mist and magic, this mundane detective had pulled together enough witnesses to be hot on her trail.

  “Too many coincidences, Ms. Dar’Karrow. Makes my skin crawl. Like an itch that needs to be scratched. What’s going on in my city?”

  “I didn’t realize it was yours, detective.” Xlina was at a loss for answers. All she had left in her arsenal was wit and snark.

  “Something is brewing out there. I know it. And you are involved.”

  “There is no crime here, detective. Nothing more than a string of happy accidents and coincidences.”

  “Forty-eight.”

  “What?” Xlina bristled with a shrug.

  “Forty-eight,” the detective repeated. “The number of missing persons reports I can tie back to Pandora’s in the last 8 months alone. Funny, I understand you live on the premise now.”

  “That’s a hefty accusation detective,” Xlina’s stomach churned. Between the Cephalopod using the nightclub as a feeding ground and Valeria’s demonic activities, she was surprised this had not become a problem sooner.

  “No accusation.” Hawke leaned back in the booth, studying her. His eyes boring holes through her with their intensity. “I want to know what is going on.”

  “A creature from beyond the mist was hunting and killing patrons of the club. It was all arranged by the former owner, who was a Fae. I killed the creature and in doing so was marked by a demon. When I tried to get rid of the mark, the local covens sent their Cu Sith hounds to my apartment to kill me. But they injured my friend Amber instead. Luckily, this necromancer I had literally just met came in and swept us off to a Necropolis of forgotten graves where he lived in a crypt. He revived Amber with a magical crystal coffin, like from the sleeping beauty fairy tale, but like Disney got the story really wrong.”

  “It’s drugs. After all that, it’s drugs.” Hawke sighed, his eyes wide with disbelief.

  “The necromancer brought us back from beyond the mist in his magical hearse that can move between worlds. We killed the Fae, or at least we thought we killed him and the warlock, but the warlock came back as a wraith and nearly killed us all. After we beat the wraith, we were certain the Council of Magic would put an end to the madness, but the rival demon had already corrupted half the council. The Fae was in on the whole thing as well posing as a council member. We thought we had everything under control until Amber turned out to be the demon’s new warlock. I had to kill her.”

  “What are you trying to pull?” Hawke slammed his hand on the table furiously.

  “You wanted the truth.” Xlina blinked twice, stunned by his outrage.

  “That’s the truth? Magic? Demons? Fae? This isn’t a game of dudes and dragons! This is real life, Ms. Dar’Karrow.”

  “I know.” Xlina steadied herself for the limb she was about to jump out on. “It’s all real... the world you know... it’s just an illusion.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “You knew that already. It was in my file, remember? Crazy girl in Boston’s psych ward. Came in all cut up and talking about werewolves.” Xlina looked at him pensively. “Did you read that file? The medical report?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lacerations across the face, chest, and back. Severe blood loss and delirium, right?”

  “That’s right.” Hawke nodded slowly.

  “And you believe those were self-inflicted? On my back?”

  “Perhaps, I have seen worse.” Hawke shrugged it away. Xlina leaned forward, staring him in the face.

  “What about the scars?”

  “What scars?”

  “Exactly. Where are the scars? Three lacerations across my face. Where are the scars?”

  “Plastic surgery.”

  “A poor college kid, living in an economy one-room apartment with no medical plan. How did I afford tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of plastic surgery?” Xlina’s words trickled out slowly, allowing the thought to churn in the detective’s head.

 
“How indeed?” Hawke whispered, examining her face. Her skin was near flawless, not so much as a blemish of acne thanks to the healing magic of her nightmare energy.

  “I am a descendant of the Baku,” Xlina whispered softly. “A creature of Japanese legend that feeds on nightmares.”

  “You are crazy and need to go back to the ward. You just confessed to killing someone a minute ago. That’ll be enough to lock you up.”

  “You can feel it out there, Detective. The city is primed like a bomb ready to explode. Something is brewing and you feel it in your gut. I am telling you what it is. Stop calling me crazy and listen.” Xlina slammed her hand on the table, allowing a wisp of nightmare energy to flicker around her hand. Hawke’s eyes went wide and his face blanched.

  “What the...”

  “There is a storm coming. It is my fault. I stole Amber’s soul from hell and now both Angels and Demons are coming to set things right. They are going to fight a proxy war here in Portland through their minions. All to stop me from resurrecting Amber.”

  “Let’s say I believe this bullshit for a moment,” Hawke pushed the plate with the doughnut aside. “Why does everyone give a damn about one single soul? Aren’t there literally billions of them?”

  “It’s not the soul itself, it’s the plans to resurrect it.”

  “What in the world of magic that’s some high crime?” Hawke scoffed skeptically.

  “Resurrection is considered taboo. It breaks the natural order, making the flow of souls through the planes of existence go backwards. Those times in history where people have pulled it off are kind of a big deal.”

  “How big?”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Hey that’s not needed, young lady. It was a simple question.” Hawke bristled.

  “It wasn’t a curse, Detective. It was the answer.”

  “Lord almighty.” Hawke slumped in the booth, uncertain what to make of her extraordinary tale.

  “Still crazy?”

  “Bat-shit crazy.” Hawke nodded affirmatively.

  “Magic is concealed by a spell. The greatest spell.” Xlina urgently needed him to believe her. “That’s why it’s so hard to believe. The grand illusion was woven over the earth to conceal magic from the rest of the world.”

  “Sounds pretty flimsy.”

  “It’s not. Not at all. How many tales and how many legends involve the mist? A dense magic that obscures and detracts. It hides everything. The existence of Otherworld, the fae, wizards and witches walking the earth. Awakened like myself. All of it a grand deception to keep humanity in the dark, but I assure you it is real detective. The city and all who dwell here are in grave danger as long as I am here.”

  “I just let you take off, huh? That’s your plan? You run to another city and Bam! Old Hawke was tricked? Sounds like drugs and crime to me. Foul play adds up. I am taking you downtown Ms. Dar’Karrow then we’ll see about your Demons and Angels.”

  The radio on the table flared to life with a loud high-pitched squeal drawing the attention of all nearby. The ominous tone of the emergency weather notification system played over the Detective’s radio and was echoed on the radio station being piped into the dinner for ambiance. Xlina looked at the detective with a raised eyebrow.

  “This is a message from the emergency weather management system. A storm front has moved in unexpectedly. Dense fog has reduced visibility and all watercraft are asked to proceed in the harbor under extreme caution. Drivers are asked to observe the weather advisory speed limits. Again, this is a message from the emergency weather management system.”

  The steady tone flared again over the airwaves, signaling the end of the message. Xlina looked out the large glass window and noted the dense fog. Visibility was reduced to mere tens of feet as the rolling fog blanketed the city. In the distance, the sound of gunshots rang out.

  “Fireworks folks,” Hawke stood from the booth as the patrons stirred. “Nothing to worry about, just a little New England weather.”

  “I need to go, Detective. It’s beginning.” Xlina’s voice was a whisper, but firm.

  “What do you think you can do?” Hawke spun on her, placing both hands on the table. “It’s weather Ms. Dar’Karrow not magic.”

  “Are you willing to bet your city on that, Detective?”

  “I’m not willing to let you out of my sight.”

  “Fine. Come along detective, follow me down the rabbit hole and see how deep this burrow goes.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Dead Road

  Xlina hurried down the brick walks of the Old Port, with Detective Hawke panting and huffing at her side. His heavy footfalls sounded like thunder clapping on the brick as his labored breath chased her down the walk. She sent a fleeting look over her shoulder to make sure he had not lost sight of her in the dense fog that had blanketed the city.

  “Come on Detective,” she slowed her pace and placed her hands on her hips impatiently as the heavy detective, clearly more akin to driving and pushing papers, struggled to keep pace. He bent over, placing his hands on his knees as he drew in a heavy breath. Sweat marred his brow, and he raised his sleeve to wipe it away.

  “I don’t understand why we need all the running,” Hawke pushed off his knees and returned to his full height, the movement bringing a wince to his face.

  “We need to hurry, Detective; the fog is the great outpouring of mist. It foreshadows abundant magic in the city... immense death. I need to leave to save the Old Port. It’s that simple.”

  “You realize how that sounds, right?” Hawke made a motion with his arms imitating being bound in a straitjacket. A feeling she had experienced before.

  “I’m not crazy.” Xlina turned sharply with her words and squinted into the fog. She knew they were mere blocks from Pandora’s, but the white roiling clouds were so thick she could barely see the intersection ahead.

  “Still, you sound a bit...”

  The roar of a motorcycle cut Hawke off as a red Honda Fireblade darted up onto the walk before them. The rider was clad in black leathers with a matching red helmet. The sports bike lurched to a stop on the walk and the rider quickly dismounted, standing firm before them. Xlina dropped into a defensive stance, instinctively putting herself between Hawke and the mysterious rider.

  “I’ll not trade blows with you again Baku,” The rider lifted her red helmet and her long silky black hair fell in a cascade down her back as she placed it on the back of the motorcycle. The familiar visage of Lexxes Stillwater turned to face Xlina with a hesitant but friendly smile. She lifted her hands before her, displaying she meant no harm.

  “Lexxes?” Xlina kept her guard up, remembering the dream walker’s betrayal in the dream realm. “What are you doing here?”

  “Who is that?” Lexxes motioned to a frazzled Hawke who merely stood jaw agape at the brash woman.

  “You can’t leave that there? And on the walk?” Hawke pointed at the motorcycle on the sidewalk with a pudgy finger.

  “What are you, a traffic cop?” Lexxes shook her head in dismissal, returning her focus to Xlina. “You tend to pick up the strangest companions, young one.”

  “He is a detective, actually,” Xlina smiled and looked back to Hawke, who was quickly getting washed aside in the sudden depths that were the magical world around him. “He was going to arrest me for... well, we hadn’t gotten that far yet honestly.”

  “You’re dragging another outsider into our world? Wasn’t Amber lesson enough?” Lexxes folded her arms over her chest and in that moment, she looked very much like the perennial parental figure about to deliver a scolding lecture.

  “Nobody drags me anywhere toots,” Hawke burst in, stepping forward and wagging his finger in her face.

  “I’m sure, Detective,” Lexxes eyes narrowed, and her words were short and firm.

  “If you two are done?” Xlina butt in crashing between the duo confidently.

  “We are done,” Lexxes cut back, turning her gaze on Xlina.

  “N
ot by a long shot,” Hawke bristled as he adjusted his shirt and jacket.

  “Fine detective, write her a ticket, take her to jail, and I’ll be on my merry way.” Xlina nodded to Lexxes with a determined scowl. “Otherwise, we need to get out of the city.”

  “Is that your plan? Run?” Lexxes leveled Xlina with a scowl of her own. “They will follow you.”

  “I am counting on it.” Xlina brushed aside Lexxes condemning stare. “It’s the only way to be sure they leave the city alone.”

  “The counsel has convened Xlina. You are formally barred from attempting to resurrect Amber. This realm follows a natural order, and your desires, while well intended, are selfish.”

  “Back to this?”

  “Of course, back to this. It is always this. I know you’re used to Oxivius bending the rules and his flagrant dismissal of the counsel, but there are laws for our people as well. Your actions will have consequences.” Lexxes eyes softened, and her scowl faded. “I am your friend Xlina.”

  “So was Amber. So was Oxivius.” Xlina retreated a step and looked back to Hawke. “The counsel did nothing to stop the events leading up to this. They were too busy relishing in their own power and corruption.”

  “Nice to know magical bureaucrats are no different,” Hawke grumbled.

  “Xlina, just give up the soul and the Counsel will present it to the Faithful. Order will be restored to the city, and we can put all this... ugliness behind us.” Lexxes eyes pleaded for Xlina to relent. Her voice rang with desperation. As much as she wanted to give in and make all the bad go away, that would mean she would fail Amber. For a second time in her life, she would condemn Amber to hell.

  “No, everyone thinks they can tell me what’s best. Everyone thinks I am just being selfish, but it is my path. It is my choice. Choice is our god given right, Lexxes. The ability to make our own way. So, to hell with all that. I am going to lead the Faithful away from the city. I will make my stand at the necropolis where this all began.”