by Rob Cornell
“Obviously, short of caging you, I can’t keep you from whatever foolish thing you’re planning next. But I have some connections in the Ministry. I could arrange to have them take over the apprehension of your mother.”
I snorted a laugh. “You have connections in the Ministry?”
“Sebastian, I have connections everywhere.”
“Thanks for the offer, Tofty, but I’d rather leave the Ministry out of this. Somehow the mayor has a hand in this. I don’t know how directly. Maybe he and his staff were paid off to ignore the squatter in the Manoogian. I hope that’s all. But if it’s not, this shit storm becomes political. That turns the Ministry into an obstacle instead of an aid.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. When he looked to me again, he seemed to have come to some decision or acceptance. “Please don’t die. I’ll never find a sorcerer as powerful as you willing to teach Odi.”
“Ah, but you forget. I’m not willing.”
“Right. Then, I’ll never find another sorcerer dumb enough to swear blood on a promise and nothing more.”
“Cute.” I turned to leave.
“You owe me for two tables now,” Toft called as I reached the exit.
“Bill me.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sly took me back to the smoke shop. He had me take off my pants and get in the recliner so he could check my bandage, which I had totally forgotten about. I kept my coat on. I couldn’t shake the chill clamped to my bones.
The smell wafting from the bandage as he unwrapped it nearly made me barf. If I’d eaten anything more recently than the pizza over twenty hours ago, I probably would have. Adrenaline and worry had kept my hunger at bay, but even while inhaling the nastiness from the bandage, I imagined myself crunching my way through a ten-pack of tacos with extra hot sauce.
On the other hand, the smell didn’t visibly bother Sly at all. The dude thought his potions didn’t stink.
Thankfully, he made quick work of the removal and discarded the bandage in a covered waste bin.
All that remained of the gunshot wound was a black and yellow bruise and some raw, wrinkled skin. I felt under my thigh to the corresponding exit wound. Touching it stung, but it had closed up as well.
“You’re amazing,” I said.
“Yep.” He tossed me the stonewashed jeans he’d lent me. “Now you need nutrients.”
He needs to feed. He’ll heal faster.
I grimaced while I tried not to think about what Odi was doing right then.
“I want tacos,” I said.
“Eating will slow you down.” He took up position behind his bench and began grinding, pouring, and mixing. “I can give you nourishment without having your digestive system make you lag.”
“Can you make it taste like tacos?”
Without stopping his hands from their work, he gave me a get real look.
As expected, the weird, pasty brown stuff he handed me in a plastic Sesame Street bowl tasted less than good. It did kind of look like refried beans, though. So…almost tacos.
Admittedly, I felt a thousand times better after I finished the last glop. I kicked down the recliner’s footrest and stood. Sly took the bowl from me.
“Now what?” he asked.
“You expect me to have a plan?” I thought for a second. “Can’t sneak into the Manoogian during the day and stake him, as awesome as that sounds. If Mom isn’t in there with him, his pile of dust ain’t gonna tell us where he’s holding her. Can’t get close enough to fill him full of silver without a good old-fashioned vampire brain wash. Unless you know any snipers.”
“All this negativity isn’t helping, brother.”
“You want a can instead of a can’t?” I pulled Dad’s watch from my coat pocket. I’d wiped Odi’s blood off best I could, but some remained caught in the grooves between the enamel design and the silver. I wondered if Goulet had touched the watch at some point during his possession of it. I relished the thought of him burning the floral design into his palm. “I guess I could agree to his terms.”
Sly grunted through a scowl. He tossed the plastic bowl onto his workbench. The bowl clattered loudly. “That,” he said, “is not an option.”
I shoved the watch back into my pocket. “The only other idea I’ve got is to somehow set a trap. Make him think I’m turning myself over, but pull a fast one. The idea doesn’t have a lot of meat, though.”
“It’s a start.” He paced while rubbing his chin as if he wanted to scrub off a patch of his stubble. “But it’s going to take more than the two of us to pull it off.”
“Ya think?” The image of Odi’s brutalized face rose into my mind’s eye. His crunched cheek bones. His missing ear. Goulet had done more than work the kid over. He had sculpted Odi into a monument of sadism. And for my sake. I couldn’t help recalling Toft’s warning—Logan Goulet will feast on your heart and pick his teeth with your bones. He’ll do the same to anyone you drag in with you.
“I can’t risk bringing anyone else in on this, though,” I said. “Even you.”
Sly rolled his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “Get over your damn self, brother. You want to help Judith? You need to ask for help.”
I threw up a hand. “Fine. Who? Odi’s out. Toft isn’t going to change heart and volunteer himself. The rest of the supernatural community wants nothing to do with me, either because they worry they’ll end up as one of my bounties or they think I’m going to turn into a vamp at any moment.”
I had done a good job of not thinking about this newfound isolation, but I felt it pretty hard now.
“What about Fiona?”
“Aw, hell.” I wandered over to one of the walls of cardboard boxes lining the room. I scanned the markered labels on each without reading any of them. The smell of the cardboard brought on memories of when I had packed to move out of my parents’ house, back when life was normal. “I can’t.”
“I understand,” Sly said. “Really, I do. But, brother, your ass is in a sling. Besides, don’t you think she’d want to help?”
I ducked my head, staring at the cuffs of the stonewashed jeans hanging above my boots, the contrast bizarre enough to get a short laugh out of me. “Assume she’s in. The three of us still can’t pull off a trap, if we can even think up a good enough trap in the first place.”
“I have an idea about that.”
His pensive tone made me turn. I could tell I wasn’t going to like whatever he had in mind. The dread over Sly’s pending suggestion felt awfully familiar, which should have prepared me for what he offered.
“The Maidens of Shadow might help.”
I burst into a fit of ugly laughter. I staggered backward until I came up against the stacked boxes. I laughed until I couldn’t catch my breath. I must have looked like a freak. Sly stared at me like I was one. But he patiently waited until I regained control of myself.
“Are you dating one of those witches?” I asked. “Because I can’t imagine why you keep bringing them up.”
“They’re powerful,” he said, as if that explained it all.
“No shit. They’re a black witch coven. You’ve seen Star Wars. The dark side is always stronger. Hell, they get force lightening. I bet Luke Skywalker wished he could shoot electricity out his finger tips. But the dark side eventually gets your wrinkly ass thrown down a shaft by your star pupil.”
Sly blinked a few times. “I actually understood that.”
“The dark side sure as hell doesn’t help random strangers out of the goodness of their heart. Those ladies have no reason to join our team.”
“You let me worry about that.” He crossed over to me, gripped my shoulders. “We can do this.”
I didn’t want to play Negative Nancy anymore, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Go talk to Fiona,” he said. “I’ll take care of the other arrangements. And, brother?” He gave me a gentle shake. “We’re getting her back. Trust me.”
There wasn’t anyone I trusted more. Which suc
ked, because I was having a hell of a time believing him now.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Yes.”
I stammered, unsure what to say since I had expected some resistance—definitely not zero resistance. Especially when I had told her Sly’s plan to bring in the Maidens of Shadow. But Fiona looked me right in the eye, chin up, and didn’t say another word after that single one.
We sat at the table in her kitchen. When I had arrived, she insisted on making me an omelet despite my explaining the stuff Sly had mixed for me had done the trick, and I wasn’t that hungry. I would have rather gotten some sleep. It was six AM. I’d only been up around twelve hours, and that was after a solid twelve hours of sleep. I still felt wiped. But I had to get Fiona on board before I could get any rest.
And that had turned out to be a snap.
“You’re sure?” I asked.
“I’ve wanted to help since the start of this mess,” she said. “That hasn’t changed. I’m glad you finally got your head out of your ass and asked me.”
I smiled and looked down at the plate in front of me. I’d taken a single bite of the omelet. Fiona had used pepper jack cheese. She knew what I liked. That one bite had tasted wonderful, but I couldn’t get myself to eat more.
“So what’s next?” she asked.
“I don’t have details yet. I’ll know more once I talk to Sly. Sit tight and I’ll give you a call when we’re ready.” I looked down at the congealed cheese oozing out of the omelet. A perfect waste of pepper jack.
She put a hand on my arm. “Just get back to me soon.”
I gave her a kiss and headed over to Sly’s.
Sly’s house sits on the edge of the Red Run Golf Club in Royal Oak, with a view of a sand trap from his family room picture window. It’s actually a nice view, as it doesn’t have any houses getting in the way. It’s almost like he’s got his own stretch of acreage. Of course, the downside is he’s had a few cracked windows in the past from errant balls.
He ushered me in, then led the way into his kitchen. The counter was covered with bottles and cups and a clutter of magical odds and ends. I couldn’t even see the surface. The setup looked like a chaotic mishmash, not at all like the organized collection at the smoke shop.
“Wow,” I said. “This looks like my parents’ basement.”
A hollow sensation in my gut made me feel like the wind could blow right through me. My parents’ basement would never be the same.
“What’s with all this stuff?”
He snorted. “I bought a lot of junk from an old wizard during an estate auction. It was the contents of a storage locker, sight unseen. That’s my attempt to sort it out.”
I made a face. “Sounds fun. Anything valuable?”
“Don’t ask.”
In contrast to the cluttered counter, a single bottle of clear liquid sat on the dining table.
“That for me?”
He nodded. “But it’s the last thing I can give you. Too many more potions in you could seriously wreck your magical systems. Could kill you, actually.”
“Nice thought. What’s this one going to do?”
“Put you in a coma.”
I made a face. “Guess that’s better than killing me.”
I guzzled down the potion and almost immediately felt weary. A thousand times more tired than I already had been, which was pretty damn tired.
Sly had his couch decked out with a sheet, a comforter, and a pillow. He didn’t tuck me in or tell me a bedtime story, though. The big meanie. Right before I fell off the edge of oblivion I asked Sly, “Are we set with the witches?”
“Meeting’s this afternoon. You’ll be up by then.”
And that was it for me. I slept. Or comaed, or whatever. No dreams. No nothing. It was like I ceased to exist. But it might as well have been for a blink, because in the next second my eyes snapped open and I was wide awake. I sat up slowly, expecting that groggy vertigo you get after a long nap. Didn’t have it. I felt like…like a zillion bucks. Hell, I felt like fucking Fort Knox.
Sly was in the kitchen clinking around in his auction haul.
I got up and went in to see him. “You didn’t make me breakfast?”
He set down a jar of cloudy fluid with some kind of clump of organic matter floating in it. I didn’t try to guess what it might have been. I seriously did not want to know.
“Kitchen’s closed, smartass.” He smiled. “Besides, are you actually hungry?”
I checked myself. Belly still felt full from his magic refried beans. “Nope. I’m good.”
“Good. Get ready. We’re leaving in ten.”
I didn’t have much to get ready. I pulled on my boots, laced them up, and was raring to get on with this. I’d never consorted with witches before. I had to admit my curiosity was nearly as strong as my trepidation.
We hit the road in eight minutes instead of ten.
Sly drove us into Midtown Detroit, down the Cass Corridor to the corner of Cass and Ferry, just across from Wayne State University’s campus. He parked on the street in front of an apartment building. “This is it.”
The building looked a little old fashioned, a throwback to Detroit’s earliest years. Probably exclusively rented out by college students. Not the kind of place I expected to find a black witch coven.
Sly reached into his backseat and grabbed a green knapsack. I had a feeling, the way he clutched the bag, that something expensive was inside. Probably whatever payment the Maidens required to do us this favor. Assuming they would do it. Sly seemed pretty confident, but I had serious doubts.
We got out of the car and Sly led the way to the apartment complex.
“They’re students?” I asked as we reached the entrance.
“I’m not really sure,” Sly said. “This is the address they gave me. I heard Joni Mitchell used to live here back in the sixties.”
“Seriously? Huh.”
I followed Sly up three flights of stairs. A door to one of the apartments hung open not far from the stairwell. A girl with a red streak through her blond bob stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. She wore a pair of plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt with Captain America’s shield printed on the front. There wasn’t much to her. Knobby elbows and a thin, long neck. And she didn’t look a day over drinking age. But with the magical folks, you couldn’t take a person’s apparent age very seriously. I knew some sorcerers who didn’t look much older than me, but were twice my age or more.
She smiled at the sight of Sly as we approached the door. Then her gaze shifted to me. She wrinkled her nose. “Dude, that’s so weird.”
I snorted. She kind of sounded like Odi. Maybe I could play matchmaker as well as mentor and hook them up. “What’s weird?”
She rolled her eyes like I was a big dummy, then turned on her bare heel and disappeared into the apartment.
Sly winked at me. “She can sense the vamp blood in you. Don’t take it personally.”
“Ha.”
Sly led the way, and we followed the girl in. The entrance fed into a hallway that stretched in either direction with an open doorway to a bedroom directly across the hall from the entrance. I heard a fake-sounding barrage of gunfire coming from the left. The hall bent slightly on that end, but I could make out what looked like a living room. I saw the back of a ratty chair and the side of another girl’s face. She had black hair and pale skin, but that was all I could tell from how the chair was angled.
In the hall’s other direction I saw a couple more doorways. Maybe into other bedrooms. If a whole coven lived here, the apartment had to be a pretty good size. Still, it didn’t give off a black witch vibe. Except for the smell. I thought I caught a faint hint of sulfur.
The girl in the pajamas scooted around us and closed the door. Then she gave me a smile and held out her hand. “I’m Wendy.”
We shook. “Sebastian.”
She raised one blond eyebrow on her narrow face. “The Unturned.”
I let out a cross between a sigh a
nd a grumble. “No,” I said. “Just Sebastian. Or Mr. Light if you want to get formal.”
“Lighten up, Mr. Light.” She turned to Sly. “You got something good for me?”
He patted the canvas knapsack. “Better than good.”
She looked surprised. “For such a small favor?”
Small? I threw Sly a confused glance. Had he not told them why we were coming over?
He cleared his throat, making a point not to look at me. “There’s…been a development.”
Wendy crossed her arms. “Sly puppy. You haven’t been honest with us.”
Again, he patted the knapsack. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Hmm. I’m intrigued. But you’ll have to convince the rest of the girls.”
With that, she strolled down the hall toward the living room. With her back to us, I whispered, “What the fuck?”
“Trust me, all right?”
“What’s in the bag?”
“Just trust me.” He hurried after Wendy before I could ask anything more.
My stomach tensed as I fell in line behind them.
Five more girls, all around Wendy’s age, occupied the room.
The girl I had seen a glimpse of, with the black hair and ghost-white skin, sat on her chair with her legs tucked under her. She had a ratty paperback in her hands and a set of ear buds in her ears. Her focus was so locked on the pages of her book and whatever music she listened to, the rest of the commotion around her could have been a hundred miles away.
A sofa that might have once decked out a grandmother’s living room, with cat scratches in the flowery upholstery, took center stage in the large space. Two more girls sat there, facing a massive widescreen TV that could have doubled as a door if tilted on its side. The girls mashed the buttons on a set of game controllers as they battled it out on what looked like one of the Halo games. They bickered and trash-talked between blasts of laughter.
The two remaining girls sat on the floor off to one side, a chess board set between them, both of them locked in fierce concentration on the pieces.
