by C. C. Mahon
“Rumor has it that a ghoul would’ve found his body,” I said.
Lizzie shrugged. “You can’t rely on rumors. I only believe what my books and crystals tell me.”
“And are they telling you something useful to find these two?” I asked, pointing to Kitty and Patricia’s pictures on the table between us.
Lizzie grabbed the picture of the biker and examined it. “Is Kitty the pretty blonde in the middle?” she asked, pointing at the man in question. “Hmm… Do you mind if I take a picture? I have friends online that could help us.” She took out a top of the line smartphone and snapped a picture of the Kitty and Patricia’s photos. “Succubi terrify me,” she said, looking at Patricia’s picture. “I think it’s their predatory nature concerning sexuality. I’m ashamed to say it, because I consider myself a feminist and modern witch. Hmm. I’ll have to think about it. Do some research, yes…” She stood up without paying me anymore attention and left mumbling to go sit in a corner of the room behind her usual pile of grimoires.
13
It was too early for me to call Lola, but I was chomping at the bit to talk to her, to ask her for advice for my investigation. Therefore I sent her a long series of texts with all the facts, the pictures of the missing, and a list of questions as long as my arm. Could she look at the surveillance cameras where they had disappeared? How many sex workers disappeared from the Strip each year? Had other bodies been found covered in bite marks? Did she know anyone who could tell me the difference between a wolf bite and a bite from…something else? Had the accident that Walter the biker told me about been reported?
I had just finished my slew of messages when Matteo came into the back room. I heard him tell Lizzie that the club would be closing soon. I hadn’t noticed the time go by. I was going to get up to help my team when Matteo slid onto the chair in front of me.
“Boss,” he said without any preamble, “the girls are tired.”
“What?”
“Barbie and Gertrude. I know you take care of the bar for the busiest hours of the night, but the rest of the time the girls have to work the bar and the rest of the room. I really liked Agatha, and—”
I cut him off with a gesture. “You’re right. I need to pick someone to hire.”
I couldn’t bring myself to say “replace Agatha.” It seemed obscene to me to want to replace our sweet dryad. But letting the rest of my team wear themselves out working wouldn’t bring our friend back.
I’d left the CVs of my three candidates on my desk, in the tiny room from which I managed the club’s business. I automatically set aside the one for the gorgon with sunglasses. I couldn’t picture her behind the bar. At the door to the club on the other hand…
I put the CV aside and considered the other two candidates. Logic told me to hire Johnny. The bartender had the necessary experience, and he would get up to speed quickly. But my heart told me to give Enola a chance. Britannicus was right: I looked at the seer like a damsel in distress, and I felt obligated to help her.
I composed a text to ask the young woman to come in the next night to do a test run. My thumb hesitated a few moments above my phone before hitting send. The usual chime told me that the message was sent. “Alea iacta est,” I whispered.
I locked up the office and went out front to help Gertrude. The young troll was ringing up the last customer of the night.
“Our new bartender starts tomorrow night,” I said.
Gertrude let out a sigh of relief. “Good! Because if I keep having to make cocktails, I won’t have enough of my pay left to pay for all the bottles and glasses I’m breaking.”
“Don’t worry about it. You were kind enough to cover the bar in the meantime, even though it wasn’t your job. The house will pay for the damages—except that tray of beers that you spilled on the laps of the group of vampires.”
“And the dry-cleaning bill?”
“Nah, forget about that. When you can afford to buy $10,000 suits, you can afford to get them dry-cleaned. And besides, we’re not scared of them: they would break their teeth on you, and I’m the mighty Valkyrie killer!”
I flashed her a smile and a wink to go with the joke, but she answered me with the utmost seriousness. “I wanted to thank you for having accepted to help find Patricia and Kitty.”
A veil of sadness came over her face.
“Did you know Adam?” I asked.
She nodded. “I rent a basement in his parents’ building. That’s how we met. He was a nice guy. We often talked about movies and books. He was a DC fan, and I’m more Marvel, but other than that, we got along well. His parents are crushed.”
“I’m really sorry. I hadn’t grasped the severity of the situation when they came to see me. I think I’m not used to being the one that people turn to when there’s a problem. Running the club, that’s one thing, but that…” I waved my hands for a moment, looking for my words.
Gertrude finished it for me, slowly, as if she was mulling over her own words. “Yes, saving strangers’ lives isn’t like managing a schedule for a few employees. But you know what they say.”
“What do they say?”
“With great power comes great responsibility.”
“Doesn’t Spider-Man say that?”
“His uncle. The one who dies in the beginning. Adam probably would have chosen another reference, but I think the idea holds.”
I didn’t know how to answer that. When had Gertrude become so philosophical? I grabbed a rag and began cleaning the bar, letting my mind wander.
I had accepted to help Walter and Julie find their people. Making this decision lifted a weight from my chest. It remained to be seen if I was going to be able to do something for them. I hoped that Patricia and Kitty wouldn’t meet the same fate as poor Adam. But the more I thought about Adam, the less I understood about what happened to him.
“Gertrude,” I called.
She straightened up and stopped mopping to listen to me.
“Your friend Adam, do you think a human could’ve have killed him in a robbery gone wrong or even by accident?”
Gertrude pouted—strange thing to see on a granite face. “It’s true that he didn’t have his dragon powers yet, but he was still stronger than a human. I don’t know. I guess anything is possible?”
I thought back to what Lizzie had suggested. “What about wolves? Metamorphs?”
“Maybe?”
Her voice was a little too high, her tone too hesitant, and I regretted my lack of tact.
“I’m sorry for asking you these questions. Forget about it, and hurry on home. The sun will be up soon.”
If she was hit by a ray of sunshine, the troll would petrify instantly. Vegas would gain a grotesque statue and lose an adorable geek.
The geek in question took off without further ado. Matteo followed her a few minutes later. To my knowledge, the sun didn’t make psychic vampires catch on fire, but they still meticulously avoided it. To maintain their porcelain skin maybe.
Nate came down just after dawn to let me know that everything was locked up and that he was heading home.
“Wait!” I said.
He froze over the threshold to the room.
“Grizzlies have a good sense of smell, don’t they?”
“Mhmm.”
“Have you heard of the wolves that came to town?”
“Mhmm.”
“Do you want to help me find them?”
“You’re still going to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong! Did Max ask you to step in? Those coyotes are unbelievable! When I think—”
“Whoa, slow down, buddy! The coyotes have nothing to do with this, and Max very clearly told me that he didn’t want me to get involved.”
“Good. So it’s settled.”
“No. I need to know if the wolves killed Adam.”
“The young dragon? Why?”
“I need to know, okay? Know who, why, and also if it means that the others who have disappeared are also in danger.”
Na
te crossed his arms and sighed heavily. “What was I saying? Always getting involved in other people’s problems. I thought you’d refused to help those beggars.”
“I changed my mind.”
“And you think it’s smart to go level accusations to the head of an unknown pack of wolves?”
“They’re not accusations, just questions. I’m not the police. Even if they confess to me, I can’t do anything to them.”
“Exactly. So hold your tongue and avoid provoking them.”
“I should hold my… Oh! Who do you think you are? You can refuse to help me, that’s fine, but don’t talk to me like I’m a five year old. And get out of my way. I don’t have all day to deal with you.”
I left the bar fuming and took the stairs two at a time up to my apartment. I put on my holster, strapped in my gun, and took my sword out of its wall case. I slid it into its holder and put on my motorcycle gear.
Nate was waiting for me on the first floor, leaning against my bike.
“We already acted out this scene,” I said.
My voice was muffled by my full helmet, but I didn’t need to raise my voice for Nate to hear me. Yet another metamorph ability.
“Look, Erica…”
“Move, or I’ll put a bullet in one of your joints. And don’t forget to lock up behind you.”
He moved away from my bike, shaking his head.
“Just to let you know,” I said, “your friend Enola starts work tomorrow night.”
“She isn’t ‘my friend,’” said Nate.
I took off without answering.
14
The sun was coming up over the city.
I headed toward the southeast in the direction of the airport.
The vague terrain was exactly like in my dream, with yellow police tape added, to restrict access. I ignored it unscrupulously. At such an early hour, and almost twenty-four hours since the battle between the metamorphs, I wasn’t expecting to see any workers.
The place was in fact deserted. I found traces of blood on the battlegrounds. The air smelled of jet fuel, dust, and dried blood.
I let out a sigh of frustration. I didn’t have the sense of smell of a bear or another metamorph. I didn’t have any powers, other than the small “glamor” that allowed me to hide behind an illusion for a few minutes. Everything else came from the sword.
I checked again to make sure I was alone before taking the sword out of its case. Its hilt was warm in my hand.
“A little help would be nice,” I whispered.
I closed my eyes to concentrate better and inhaled again.
Under the smell of fuel and blood, I tried to find the rain, the odor that I associated with the wolves in my dream.
“Do you know the Sphinx?” asked a male voice behind me.
I opened my eyes, turned, and faced the newcomer. My brandished sword joyously caught fire.
Detective Dale was looking me over, amused.
With his ill-fitting suit and raincoat to protect himself from the morning cold, he looked like Columbo. He was also disheveled, but his hair was silvery gray. And he was one-eyed. At least, he had a nasty scar, but I couldn’t figure out if he had lost his eye or not. Honestly I had trouble looking him in the…at his face.
I relaxed, and the flames that danced around my sword evaporated.
“Not bad, the trick with the flames,” said the police officer as if he saw magical swords everyday.
“Flames? What flames? That was a reflection of the rising sun.”
“Of course. What was I thinking?”
I put away my sword, mumbling, “The streets aren’t safe. It’s best to know how to protect yourself nowadays.”
“Obviously.”
His calm and paternal tone was really starting to irritate me.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
He motioned to the vague terrain around us, with its yellow police tape and bloodstains. “It’s my crime scene.”
“I thought you were chief now. Shouldn’t you be behind a desk?”
I was trying to change the subject to try and make him forget the obvious, that I didn’t have the right to be there. Based on the smile in the corner of his mouth, he wasn’t fooled. But he settled for saying, “You didn’t answer me. Do you know the Sphinx Hotel? It’s not far from here. They serve an excellent breakfast. Why don’t you come? My treat.”
I considered the offer, looking for the most diplomatic way to explain to him what he could do with his breakfast, but he added, “Their coffee is better than the one at the precinct.”
“That can’t be hard,” I said a split second before understanding that it was a threat: “Come with me to the Sphinx or I’m taking you to the station.”
Whatever. As long as it didn’t go beyond just breakfast, I figured it couldn’t hurt to go with him.
In Vegas, when something is “not far,” it doesn’t mean you can get there on foot but that it’s only a few minutes by car. Dale was driving an unmarked police car, new but not ostentatious. The valet hadn’t started his shift yet at the Sphinx’s parking lot, and Dale parked across two large spots, apparently oblivious of traffic laws.
Dale had praised the hotel’s breakfast, but led me towards one of the coffee shops off the immense entryway.
The café was narrow and dark. A handful of morning tourists were lined up at the counter, and a few groups were sitting at tables here and there. The air smelled of freshly ground coffee, muffins just out of the oven, and…the forest under snow.
I froze to try and see where the smell was coming from. I didn’t have to look very far. They were sitting in deep chairs set up around a few short tables. They were eight, five men and three women. They all had wounds that were more or less visible. They were devouring tons of pastries while speaking in hushed tones. And the smell of their coffees wasn’t enough to mask that of their magic; I had found my wolves.
“I didn’t know how you liked your coffee, so I got you a bit of everything,” said Dale.
He was holding two large paper cups, a few packets of sugar, three creams, and a stirring stick, all with an ease that would have made Gertrude jealous. Dale wasn’t the one who was going to drench a gang of vampires with five pints of beer.
I followed him to a nearby table, making sure not to lose sight of the wolves. But they didn’t seem to have noticed me, and they continued to stuff their faces while speaking quietly.
“How did you know who I was looking for?” I asked.
Dale widened his good eye to feign innocence. “I just wanted some good coffee.”
I shot a look over at the metamorph’s table. “What do you know about them?”
“Honest citizens who just got jobs in our beautiful city and are still looking for a place to live. Nothing suspicious about that.”
“Nothing suspicious, but you still took the time to look into them.”
Dale spread out his hands as if in apology. “In my defense, I look into all the wolves I come across. It’s a hobby.”
I forgot about drinking my coffee. “What?”
He flashed me one of his friendly smiles, halfway between Santa Claus and the Cheshire Cat. “I love those creatures, and I was a little sad not to find any when I arrived in Las Vegas. You have coyotes, pumas, and a few other more exotic species, but it’s not the same.”
“How about you stopped taking me for an idiot and tell me what I’m doing here? What do you want?”
“To help you out.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Why does everything need to have a price? It’s a tenant of your capitalist society. No one does anything for free anymore.”
“If you know about metamorphs, I suppose you’re also aware of the rest of the supernaturals? And the recent disappearances? And you’re not doing anything?”
“I’m offering you a coffee.”
“So it’s up to me to do your job for you?”
“If you want to.”
“You’re the cop, not me.
”
“And you think that would make things easier for me? It’s a lot less practical than you seem to think it is, to be a police officer. We have humans on our backs, colleagues as much as criminals, and everyone is suspicious of you.”
“And Lola, does she know?”
“You want to know if she knows that I know?”
“Could you stop answering my questions with other questions?”
“I didn’t discuss my hobbies with Detective King.”
“Because supernaturals are a hobby for you?” I leaned over to examine him more closely. “What are you exactly?”
“Pisces.”
“Huh?”
“My astrological sign: Pisces, Virgo rising. What about you?”
I let out a groan of frustration before saying through clenched teeth, “I’m not going to get a single answer out of you, am I?”
He shrugged casually. “You have to forgive an old man’s whims. And I gave you a lead. The rest is up to you. Don’t let me down.”
He took his coffee, stood up, and left the café. No one turned as he passed, no one looked at him, and I wondered if he was invisible or just ultra-commonplace to the eyes of the other customers.
It took me a few deep breaths and several gulps of burning hot coffee to chase Dale from my mind. I would have time to think about the irritating detective later. For now, I had a pack of wolves to interrogate.
The metamorphs had finished engulfing their gargantuan breakfast. They sipped at the rest of their coffees, looking satisfied. I decided that full bellies would relax them and that I had to jump on this opportunity. I grabbed my cup of coffee and quietly headed towards their table.
“May I?” I asked, approaching a chair.
I sat cross-legged, facing the group.
The metamorphs sat up in their seats and looked at me, stunned, suspicious, and even hostile.
“We’re not buying,” said one of them—a handsome fella with blue-gray eyes in a weather-beaten face. A bandage was peeking out from his turtleneck and extended to the beginnings of his three-day beard.
