Accession of the Stone Born: The Vigiles Urbani Chronicles (11 page)

Andrew nearly choked on his drink and anger flashed in his eyes. “No! Why would you ever ask such a horrible question?”

Grabbing the journal off the table, I started to open it. “Well—”

Andrew growled. “For fuck’s sake, son. That particular book is over eight hundred years old. You can’t take things like that seriously.” Andrew took a breath as he composed himself. “Look, Lazarus is ancient, and as such he has some very peculiar, if not outdated, thoughts, but even he has moved beyond the whole ‘werebeasts are pets’ thing.” The wind was taken completely out of him as he hung his head. “There are others, though, that still use these old laws as excuses to abuse others.”

Looking at the book, I flipped through a few pages and wondered why my uncle would have such an ancient and rare tome. “I suspect copies of these are rare?”

Andrew appeared to be thoroughly amused by the question. “There are maybe seven in the world.”

“Why do you have a copy?” I asked.

He didn’t even blink as he gestured at the room around him. “It’s my life. If you haven’t noticed, I deal in rare and antique books. Hell, it’s even on the door downstairs.”

And there we were. I might as well run my stupid flag up a pole and shout about it. “Yeah, there is that.”

Again his amusement was clear in his voice. “Besides being a unique sort of employer, having a powerful witch and an old werewolf on the payroll keeps the things that go bump in the night from coming to my door.”

I seriously doubted he needed to hide behind either Heather or Isidore to deal with anything that would cross the threshold of this house, but it couldn’t hurt. “I can see the logic in that line of thought.”

A half hour later Heather strolled through the living room on the way to the door, pausing to catch my eye. “If you need a tour guide let me know.” She looked at Andrew with a wry smile. “Andrew has my number if you ever want it.” Looking down at my hand, she smiled again. “Perhaps I’ll ply you with drinks, and then you’ll tell me about your hand.” She waved at me and then Andrew. “You always know the most interesting people.”

Heather didn’t wait for a response as she strode through the door, closing it behind her. She was confident in who she was and happy with or without my company. If I called, I called, and if not she’d find someone else to entertain her.

Andrew wisely kept his attention on the bottle of Dalmore and poured us another round before checking his watch. “We should grab a bite to eat before George arrives.”

It dawned on me to ask the question rumbling around the back of my head. “What’s so important about George? I’m sure there are other tailors that you wouldn’t have to call in favors to come see me on such short notice.”

Andrew held the door to the kitchen open for me as I passed. He waved me into a seat at the table as he rummaged through the fridge for leftovers. “As I said earlier, I have many unique abilities. One of them is that of an enchanter.” He grabbed the last of the red beans and rice out of the fridge. “I tend to all the enchanted material he uses every year, and he takes care of my clothing needs.” He gave himself a hapless shrug of his shoulders before giving me the Vanna White wave at himself.  “I haven’t had a lot of need of his services in years, so he kind of owes me.”

“What do these enchantments do that make them so vital?” I asked.

Andrew rolled his eyes and snorted. “Boy, you haven’t been listening, have you? There are dangerous things outside the gates.”

Leaning back, I looked at my uncle with a sudden realization; there were things that frightened him outside his home. I kept my opinions to myself. “Is it really that bad out there?”

Andrew’s features turned serious as he gazed out the nearest window. “At times.” He sighed. “There’s absolutely no reason to take unnecessary chances.”

There was more to his fear than the thousands of voices he would encounter. I could tell that he felt genuinely afraid of something out there, as if there were a target painted on his back and he wasn’t willing to admit it. “Anything you’d like to tell me that you haven’t already?”

Andrew went still for a moment as he gave the idea of it considerable thought. “For now I think you’ve got quite enough on your plate. Not to worry though, I’m quite safe within these walls. No one intending me harm can enter.”

I wanted to argue the point. This was what I was good at. This was something I could help with. The argument died much where it had started, and I felt it was important to let him have this, at least for the time being. “If you change your mind I’m here, and if I can help I will. If there is anything or anyone I should be aware of, let me know.”

Andrew’s hand shook as he put his glass on the table. “Let’s keep things simple for now. I’ll teach you what you need to learn, and you can decide what scares you later. Deal?”

“Deal,” I agreed.

George stopped by about an hour later and measured me for what he called adult clothing, and not the droll civilian clothes I was currently wearing. On his way out he assured me I’d have a full set of clothing by Monday afternoon, and to try and not get myself killed between now and then.

It was 5:15 by the time George left, and I was starved. Heading to the kitchen, I found Andrew pulling something out of the oven. He glanced back, giving me an appraising look. “Excellent! How did it go?”

I waved a dismissive hand at myself and grunted before trying to get a better look at what was in the dish, but with no luck. “No idea. George was exceptionally displeased with my current attire.”

Andrew turned his attention to the long glass baking pans on the stove. “George is a bit of an elitist when it comes to clothing.”

“He said something odd on his way out.”

“What was that?” He asked.

I repeated George’s final instructions. “‘Don’t get killed between now and Monday.’ Why is that even a thing?”

Andrew turned pale before regaining control of his features. “As I mentioned, the clothing is enchanted. They provide a great deal of physical protection, against things such as physical trauma or fire or…hell, any number of other things.”

I had that annoying itch in the back of my skull that couldn’t be scratched. He was lying to me, but it was clear he wasn’t about to divulge anything further. “So stylish body armor.”

Andrew made a face as he thought about it and tilted his head in acquiescence. “More or less.”

“You’re the only enchanter he uses?” I asked.

Andrew straightened up as pride filled him. “Enchanters are rare. Very rare, but I’m sure he could use another if he wanted. But that would require all new tools.”

That was peculiar. “Why is that?”

Andrew spooned some food onto a plate and spoke thoughtfully. “Because only the enchanted tools that I’ve provided for him will cut or pierce the material. Every enchanter is unique, and as such require unique tools to work the fabric.”

Andrew turned and brought two plates heaping with beef enchiladas with red sauce to the table.

I was skeptical, of course. “You wearing any of it now?”

Andrew unrolled the sleeve of his shirt and buttoned it before putting it on the table. Gesturing at the fork, he nodded. “Go ahead and stab the shirt, and let’s get that over with before our dinner gets cold.”

I didn’t have to be invited twice, and I stabbed his arm as hard as I could. The fork warped and bent in my hand, leaving a little red sauce on his white sleeve, which he simply wiped away. “It’s also stain proof,” he added. “Grab another fork out of the drawer and toss that in the recyclables.”

Now I was becoming more concerned about the city I’d chosen to visit. “Who would need this kind of protection? I mean, it can’t be that bad out there, can it?”

Andrew took another forkful of food and grunted. “There are lots of others out there besides Heather, Isidore, you, and me. There are literally hundreds that live in the city, and maybe a couple thousand in the surrounding cities, and they are the nice ones.” He took another bite of food and swallowed. “There are a lot of vanilla mortals who’d kill for that ring you’re wearing, or mine for that matter. A hundred years ago they would’ve killed Heather simply because she was a witch. Not to mention Isidore’s blood is worth a fortune to the right buyer. We are constantly in danger from the standard humans and other paranormal entities that would do us harm simply because of who we are or what we can do for them, alive or dead. This isn’t a safe place to begin with, but when you add in greed, a thirst for power, and the general desire for brutality, you learn to protect yourself.”

I’d nearly finished my food when I stopped and mused. “If it's so dangerous here, why stay?”

“God, you really do sound like your father.” That thought brought a combination of joy and sadness to the man. “Because this is where Martha was, and now that she’s gone.... I don’t know. There’s still a house and plenty of land back home, but I’m not sure I’d want to go back there alone. At least here there are others I can speak to. I’m not your father. He could go days, weeks at a time not speaking to another human being and not be bothered. I, on the other hand, would miss Isidore, Heather, and my other friends.”

I guess I was more like my father than I ever realized. I’d spent the last twenty-eight years with absolutely zero friends, and nothing more to look back on than what was in my bag in the other room.

“The house is still standing?” I asked.

Andrew looked almost offended. “Of course it is. I enchanted the entire place before I left, and your grandfather wouldn’t let his daughter's home fall into ruin even after her death.” He took another bite of food and pointed his fork at me. “You’re going to need to contact him and let him know you’ll be up there sooner rather than later.”

I blinked. “What? Why?”

Andrew tskd me. “Because he’s family even if you two didn’t get along. He’ll be happy you’re alive.”

I suddenly felt full and pushed the last of my food away. “I’ll finish that later.” Grumbling more to myself than to Andrew, I said, “I’d like to get settled in here before you ship me off to see ‘him.’”

Andrew held up his hands letting me know he wouldn’t push the matter further. “I don’t know what transpired between you two, but he never seems angry about it when I go up there to check on the place.”

That surprised me. “You’ve seen him?”

“It’s hard not to. I stick out like a sore thumb, considering the city has a population, as you said, of fifty, and none of them consider me a resident. The locals have gotten used to seeing me on my once a year pilgrimage, but that doesn’t mean they don’t call the chief every time I get within a hundred miles of the place.”

I tensed and let out a low growl of displeasure. “He always had the place under his thumb. To be honest, I thought he would’ve passed away by now.”

Andrew instantly understood why I hadn’t brought my grandfather up before now. “He is a shaman.” Saying it like it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I vaguely recalled the journal again. “Oh...I see.”

I didn’t remember the math, but even though he was ancient he’d grow to be much older before he died of natural causes.

Andrew beamed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get accustomed to this world soon. I’ve got plenty of books for you to familiarize yourself with so you can fit in.”

Fitting in was of primary importance. “I’ll start reading the journal tonight.”

We heard a knock at the door and Andrew looked a little puzzled. We marched into the living room and I went to open the door when it swung open, revealing Isidore carrying two overflowing banker’s boxes precariously stacked one atop the other. Picking up the pace, I grabbed the top box and followed Isidore over to the table.

Isidore was clearly irritated. He turned to Andrew. “Captain Hotard from the UCD is here to see you.” He gestured at the boxes. “He has several more downstairs, and insisted that I take them ‘off his hands.’”

He might as well have finished that sentence by calling the man an asshole. From the expression on my uncle’s face he appeared about as pleased as Isidore with the situation.

Andrew glowered. “He’s already cleaned out her office?”

Isidore’s cheeks were flush when he gestured at the boxes. “Apparently he couldn’t wait. He said he needed the office space for ‘actual officers, doing actual work.’”

Andrew swelled to his full height, irritation written all over his face. “Where is the bastard?”

Isidore pointed at the floor. “Downstairs. He is ‘insisting’ on speaking with you.” Isidore hesitated. “I was about to head out for the evening…should I wait till you finish with the ‘captain’?”

Andrew grumbled as he waved off the idea. “I think Gavin and I can handle it from here. Besides, it’s only a few days to the full moon.”

Isidore’s eyes darted to me and back to Andrew in a panic. “He knows?”

Andrew looked at Isidore as if to say “of course.” “It’s all right, Isidore. I don’t believe Gavin is going to hold it against you.”

Holding up my hands in a sign of nonaggression, I said, “After the shit I’ve seen and done in my life, I can’t see how being a werewolf is any worse than anyone else.”

Isidore’s focused on my heavily marred hand before looking up at me curiously. “What happened to you?”

Looking down at the melted skin, I raised an eyebrow at him. “Had a hard night.”