Crime Spells Part 23

The walk wasn't far-just two more doors down. Okay, I don't know what I was expecting-a seedy room, people lying around in their own filth, maybe. Bad lighting at least. But the room looked like a fine restaurant. White linen tables all arranged behind silk privacy screens were tastefully up-lighted to give off pastel tones of gold and amber and plum. It looked trendy, expensive as h.e.l.l, and stank of cherries, cherries, cherries.

"Very nice," I said. I was starting to sweat under the strain of Influencing Suit. He wasn't resisting, but I think deep down, he knew he was screwed. "I'd like to see the girl named Rheesha Miller. Take me to her." I dug magic out of the ground and threw it behind my words. Unlike other spells, I could use Influence without a mantra and without tracing the glyph for it with my fingers. But it still took effort, still took magic, still took calm and concentration.

Suit's smile slipped just a little, but he couldn't break the Influence. "Follow me."

He butlered me along a walkway that obscured the occupants behind the screens, then down a plush, red-carpeted hallway. At the end of the hallway was a modern gla.s.s and lead door that both contained and blocked magic. Behind that was probably Trager's suite.

My heart started beating too fast. I didn't want to go behind those doors, didn't want to see what kind of man Trager really was.

Suit walked up to the door, and my stomach tightened in fear. Please, no. Don't open that door. He walked past the door and down the darker hallway to the left. Plain wood doors were s.p.a.ced out evenly on either side of us.

Now would be a good time to try Hounding. I wasn't kidding when I said I went to Harvard. I knew how to recite mantras silently. I knew how to draw magic into my sense of sight and smell by casting the spell with one hand and adjusting my bra strap with the other. It was similar to how stage magicians keep the audience's eyes where they want them to be, except, you know, this might be a lot more dangerous because there might be people with guns pointed at my head.

I pulled magic into my senses. The stink of Blood magic went from overwhelming, to so thick I gagged. Sweet cherry mixed with too many other odors: turpentine, animal sweat, rot, s.e.x. I inhaled carefully as we strolled down the hall. It was d.a.m.n near impossible to untangle the smells and signatures of the hundreds of spells that lingered in the air. I couldn't smell anything that might be even remotely close to Rheesha's scents.

Maybe Pike was wrong. Or crazy. That thought had crossed my mind. Maybe he was grieving for his granddaughter and grasping at straws. Or maybe he'd been part of a plan to get rid of me-take out the newest Hound on the block. Suit could be in on it. Maybe Suit wasn't really under my Influence. Maybe I was about to lose hold on my concentration, my spells, and really f.u.c.k this up.

Fingers of panic rose up my throat.

I thought calm thoughts, took a deep breath, and tried not to choke. If I panicked, this whole charade was going to crash around me.

Then I smelled it, the hint of Rheesha's perfume and the musty smell of snake. Not a sure thing, but something to hope for.

Suit stopped at a door and scanned a key card over the lock. He opened the door and stood aside.

"Thank you," I said. "Now, walk to the nearest empty room and go to sleep."

He stood there, and my heart beat harder. "Be a good boy. Go to sleep."

Suit walked woodenly down the hall to the right.

I stepped into the room and turned on the light.

Small, with just enough s.p.a.ce for a king-sized bed and two chairs. There was also a table on top of which were tubes and rubber hoses, knives, and other things I didn't have time to get p.i.s.sed off about.

Rheesha Miller sat with her back against the headboard. Her legs were drawn up close to her body and her wrists were tied to the headboard, just high enough that her hands were blue. Her bare arms looked as though someone had inked a red tattoo from wrist to shoulder, but the smell of her blood and s.e.x was heavy in the room. That wasn't a tattoo-she'd been cut. Since she was naked, I knew they hadn't had time to carve up the rest of her yet. It took her a full minute to look over at me. Brown-black eyes like her sister's but wide, bloodshot, and doped up.

Note to self: After I learn to use a gun, come back here and kick some a.s.s.

Screw the call-the-cops plan. I was getting this girl out of here now.

"It's okay," I said softly. "Stay quiet." I put Influence behind it, but I don't think I had to. By the time I found a knife from the table and had cut her free of the rubber shackles, she had pa.s.sed out.

Which presented another problem. How was I going to nonchalantly stroll out of this place with a naked girl over my shoulder?

Sweet h.e.l.ls.

I looked around the room for clothing, found nothing.

Think, Allie. You went to Harvard. You're supposed to be smart. I couldn't Influence everyone in the building-I was already fatigued and headachy from pushing Suit around. I didn't have time or the equipment to set something on fire, couldn't afford a stupid cell phone.

What was it one of my roommates had once told me? It was easy to steal something big if you just looked as if you had already bought it.

And since I didn't know where the exits were, didn't even know the floor plan, that's exactly what I was going to do. Walk out of this place with a naked girl on my shoulder.

First, I repeated a mantra. My voice was shaking-h.e.l.ls, all of me was shaking. I pulled magic up into my hands and then into a glyph of Obscuring. That spell was most often used by people who wanted to cover up dry patches in their lawns or fruit sellers hiding bruises. It didn't work well on large-scale things like people, but it was the only thing I could think of at the moment.

I arranged Rheesha's arms and legs and lifted her across my shoulders in a fireman's carry. She probably weighed ninety pounds.

I took a deep, calming breath, opened the door, and strode down the hall.

I have never taken a longer, more nerve wracking walk in my life. Calm, stay calm.

The door to my left, one door away from the gla.s.s and lead monstrosity, opened.

Don't look, don't look. But I looked.

His eyes were soft brown with flecks of gold, and they widened in surprise when he saw me. He was dark skinned and had the bone structure that hinted at Native or Asian in his blood. It was just a moment, but I was sure he recognized me. Too bad I'd never seen him before.

He stepped closer, and I noticed he wore a clean white shirt and black slacks-a waiter's uniform-and he smelled of pine cologne. He touched my wrist gently.

"This way." He tugged me back through the door he'd just come through and down a windowless pa.s.sage that was maybe a delivery entrance. I noted belatedly that he was muttering a mantra, throwing around hiding, warding, and other high-level spells that I wouldn't expect a waiter to know, spells that left the taste of mint in my mouth.

We exited on a side street. He let the door close behind him.

"Who is she?" He pulled off his shirt and handed it to me.

"Rheesha Miller." Smooth, Beckstrom. Way to keep a secret.

The man shook his head. "I didn't know. Do you have a way to get her to the hospital?"

Before I could ask him why he was helping or even who the h.e.l.l he was, the sound of a Ford truck started up. Apparently Pike had no trouble Hounding me. "Do I know you?"

"No. But you're Beckstrom's daughter, right?"

I nodded.

"Welcome home." He glanced over as Pike's truck turned the corner. Then he ducked back inside, as if maybe he didn't want Pike to see him.

Crazyville. But d.a.m.n, anything that got me out of that h.e.l.l hole was okay with me.

Pike got out of the truck and left the engine running. "Allie?"

"She's alive."

Pike helped me get her inside the truck, and I draped the white shirt over her. Neither of us said anything on the way to the emergency room. Rheesha slept. Pike didn't look over at me, his gaze locked grimly on the street ahead. Only the bobble-headed dog nodded like everything was going to be okay. I, for one, hoped the dog was right.

I spent the next month dealing with the police, the courts, and a constant migraine. I got one look at Trager during a hearing, and he got one look at me. He was a frightening man, and he has since taken up residence in my nightmares. From what the police told me about him, I had just made myself a very dangerous enemy.

Pike didn't call, didn't thank me in any way. He really was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. He owed me a h.e.l.l of a favor, and I was not going to let him forget it.

But right now, there was someone else I wanted to talk to: Mama.

I strolled into the restaurant and took a table near the window. The smell of coffee, steak, and onions made my mouth water. I looked around for Mama and spotted her coming out of the kitchen. She strode straight over to my table, filled a cup with coffee, and set it in front of me.

"Why did you tell Pike he should send me in after that girl?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "You are strong, Allie girl. She needed you. Pike needed you."

I took a drink of coffee. It was fresh, rich, and hot. "This is really good," I said. And yes, I was surprised.

"You come here any day or night. Any time." Mama nodded. "Coffee always be fresh for you, Allie girl." I knew that was all the apology and thank you I was going to get out of her. That, and the best steak dinner I'd had in years, were enough for now.

Eye Opening.

by Jason Schmetzer.

Eddie Timmser didn't know where Gong had gotten the pistol, but he did know he didn't like looking down the barrel of it. He leaned away from the safe and held up his hands. "Hey, come on, man," he said. "It's not my fault. I can't see this one." Jesus, I should have stayed home tonight.

"What's your deal, Eddie?" Gong asked. The light from Eddie's penlight reflected from the burnished steel of the safe door and cast shadows across Gong's narrow eyes. The pistol jerked an inch closer. "All the places we been together, buddy. Now you can't see this one safe?" A sneer twisted across Gong's lips, making the perspiration on his upper lip shimmer in the light. "I'm not buying."

Buddy? The last time they'd worked together, Eddie'd spent three months in lockup before his public defender got him out on a technicality. Gong had make it clear away, with the loot and the rep to go with it. And now he was back, forcing Eddie to work again, to use his sight to make a fast score. As if there weren't enough honest jobs where a guy who could see through walls could make a living.

"I can't see it," Eddie said. "It happens."

He resisted the urge to rub the bridge of his nose, between his eyes. It hurt to look through metal, hurt right behind his nose when he concentrated and squinted and looked with the eye he couldn't see. It hurt more when he looked at something he couldn't see through, like now. There was a mother-big headache brewing behind his eyes, and his pills were in the truck.

This always happened to him. Every time he tried to go straight, something happened. Someone would call with a big score. A favor he'd forgotten all about would get called in. He looked at Gong. Someone would threaten him.

He looked away from the gun and played the light across the surface of the safe again. Something flickered. Eddie leaned in close, ran his fingers across the metal. There was a pattern etched in the tough steel, just barely there. He held the light close and moved his head alongside the safe.

"What is it?"

"There's something here," Eddie said. "Some kind of pattern."

Gong lowered the gun. He bent down and held his head close as well, close enough that Eddie smelled the sweaty stink of fear and the beer on his fetid breath. Eddie wrinkled his nose and slid back a bit. "That's got to be it," he said.

"Got to be what?"

"That's what's blocking me," Eddie said. "I don't know how this works, but maybe somebody does. Maybe somebody knows that there are people that can see through metal like freaking Superman. And they know how to block it."

Gong frowned. "What, like magic?"

Eddie stared at him. "I can look through metal, Gong. What the h.e.l.l do you think that is?"

"It's called magic," a deep voice said from behind them.

Gong spun, the pistol already coming back up. Eddie just let himself fall backward off of his haunches, against the safe, and twisted to see what was going on. He didn't have a gun-hated guns-and wouldn't have used it if he did. Gong was shouting something, brandishing the gun, but Eddie barely heard or saw him.

Eddie was thinking about going back to jail. Not today, he thought.

A small man stood in the doorway to the study, an Asian man. His expression was calm, and he wore a simple white shirt with black trousers. His hairline was receding. He wore large wire-frame gla.s.ses. Eddie stared at him, blinked. Looked again, concentrating. He blinked again and then saw something else.

"Jesus Christ!" he muttered.

A black haze flowed around the man in the doorway. It filled the corridor behind him, peeking through over his shoulders and whirling like angry tendrils of dark-white cloud. When Eddie looked again at the man, a symbol burned in gold on his forehead. Eddie blinked again, lost his focus, and the cloud and symbol disappeared. The man appeared smaller.

"That is my safe."

"We was just looking, man," Gong said. His pistol was pointed straight. "And now we'll be leaving. Come on, Eddie," he said. He took a step forward, leading with the gun. The man in the doorway smiled, then shrugged his shoulders. Shivers raced up Eddie's spine.

Gong screamed. His arm-and the gun-vanished. Eddie stared at it in horror. Gong screamed and screamed and screamed, waving the steadily shrinking stump of his arm as if he could fling whatever was eating it away. Eddie concentrated and looked again.

The cloud was climbing up Gong's arm. Tendrils were already starting to encircle the small man's head, caressing the loose ends of Gong's hair and his ears. The screaming stopped. The Asian man at the door chuckled.

And then Gong was gone.

The Asian man smiled with satisfaction and turned to Eddie. Eddie felt the blood drain from his face. The cloud-was Gong really gone, or had it eaten him, or what?-rolled backward through the air and whirled around the Asian man's head. "You can see it," he said.

Eddie grunted and shoved himself up off the floor. The desk was between them, with Gong's case still lying open. Rows of gleaming tools, a drill, and little odd-ended picks for locks flickered as the penlight played across them. Behind the case, off the edge of the blotter, were two ornate golden goblets.

"He called you Eddie," the man said, softly, as if it were an everyday occurrence for a shimmering monster cloud to eat someone in his presence. "Is that your name?" The cloud flickered, shimmered a deepening blood red, and slid forward.

"Nope," Eddie said, and took two steps forward-Jesus, here it comes!-and grabbed the goblets. The man's eyes widened behind his gla.s.ses. He reached out, taking a step forward. The goblets were heavier than they looked. Eddie looked around, desperate. The window was large, a few feet behind him.

"Put those down," the man in the gla.s.ses said. His voice held a tinge of steel, all the softness and humor gone.

"Where's Gong?"

"Nowhere you would like to be," the man said.

"Bring him back."

"That's not possible."

Eddie shivered. The cloud was hanging between them, a malevolent mist, the haze a harbinger of pain and death and somewhere he'd rather not be. He hefted the goblet. "I just want to leave."

"You never should have entered," the man said. His mouth moved, whispering words in a language Eddie had never heard, not Korean or Chinese or j.a.panese or anything else he expected. The haze pulsed, deep golden, and then undulated larger, redder. The golden symbol glowed brighter. Eddie looked down at the goblet, expecting to see the golden light playing across the decorations, but he saw nothing. There was nothing to see.

Light reflected... not whatever he saw, whatever let him see through metals and walls and safes and the dressing room doors at Macys. What he saw wasn't real. What he saw didn't affect the real world.

But Gong was still gone. d.a.m.n it.