Frank almost jumped out of his seat as the fairy walked out from behind a napkin holder. Foster gave me a nod and fluttered across the room to the grandfather clock. He shouted over his shoulder, “The Watchers are going to have their hands full with that mess out front.”
I grimaced and glanced at Frank. There’s a lot more to Watchers than what I’d told him. They’re everywhere, or at least it always seemed like it. They are the secret keepers of our world hidden within the world. No one knows too much about them, except the fact their ranks are filled with supernatural beings. They conceal the actions of the supernatural through misdirection workings and, when all else fails, by means of memory charms. The charms show up as scars and sometimes tattoos or brands on a commoner if the alterations are drastic enough. I was always torn about the need for so much secrecy. Would it really be so bad if the world knew about us? Most of the community feared there would be an outright attempt at genocide, or forced recruitment into the military. I like to give the commoners and their government a little more credit than that.
When I walked out front to the cab with Frank a few minutes later, he glanced at the shop, then the cab, then me. “Thanks for the cab, Damian. I’ll see you later.” He slapped himself on the forehead and said, “And the job, thanks for the job.”
I handed him some cash and waved once as he climbed in and the cabbie pulled into traffic. I walked back through the shop, into the back room, and out the back door. My attention turned once more to my poor Vicky. I really needed to start parking in front of the shop. I didn’t have many extravagant things, but my souped up ’32 Ford Vicky was certainly not an economical one. At least the bastards didn’t screw with the paint. Adorning the front end with realistic flames on the metallic black finish wasn’t exactly a cost-effective endeavor. One of Frank’s friends airbrushed it for me in exchange for getting rid of a ghost that was stalking his cat. Turned out the ghost was a mastiff.
I patted Vicky’s hood. They could have at least put the old girl up on cinder blocks. I sighed, shook my head, and headed back into the shop.
***
I thought, if there was one person who would want to hear about Frank’s ordeal, and be willing to take me to the rental shop, it would be Sam. I nuked a chimichanga in the back room, picked up the phone, and dialed her number. It was dark out, so I figured she’d be awake.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Sam.” I slathered some sour cream on top of my changa and snapped the lid back on the tub. I opened the fridge to put it away.
“So, did you call just so I could hear you eating another chimichanga?”
I laughed. “No, no, I just sent Frank home in a taxi. His car met with a slight case of tree.”
“What?”
“I
think
he may
have pissed off Cara to some slight degree … so she made a tree grow up under his car and hoist it a good twenty feet in the air. Oh, that was after she grew to my height and threw Frank through the front door. Of course the tree branches snapped and now Frank’s car looks like it hit a semi head on.”
Nothing but laughter.
“I take it you were aware of the fairy growth thing?” I waited a beat for Sam to respond. “You going to pass out?”
“No …
gasp …
fine …
gasp
…” and more howls of laughter.
I raised my voice and said, “Yeah, unfortunately said tree was in front of my shop. It tore up the street and the sidewalk. Rained cobblestones for awhile, you know, the usual. Frank’s car got towed away for the junkyard. Edgar showed up.” Sam groaned while I kept talking. “He wrote Cara a nasty ticket and glared at me a few times.”
“He’s such a charming jackass. Can’t Cara just enchant the mess so people don’t notice it, or don’t question it, until the Cleaners show up? Or at least get her ticket reduced?”
Cleaners
.
I shuddered at the thought. The Cleaners were the go-to guys, gals, and, well, creatures, for the Watchers. They did the dirty work and the heavy magic lifting. All in all, they were powerful enough to be scary beyond reason.
I scratched my forehead and said, “I don’t know. It’s probably easier just to pay the fine and forget about it.”
“Sure, and how close is Cara to being arrested for all her tickets? That’s not exactly the first one.”
“I really don’t know. She never seems worried about it.”
“I’m sure she has connections,” Sam said. “Oh, and yeah, I knew about the fairy
growth thing.”
She laughed again. “Haven’t you ever seen them fight?”
I thought for a moment. “No, I guess not. I’ve only seen them threaten my eyeball with swords the size of toothpicks.”
Sam paused and her words came out a little slow. “Wait, you said Frank was at the shop? Why was Frank at the shop on a Saturday?”
I’d been waiting for her to ask that. She knew his schedule like clockwork just so she could avoid the man. My lips quirked into a grin as I said, “I hired him.”
A sound like a squirrel gargling burst onto the line.
“I thought you’d like that.” I laughed. “He’s running the shop for me four days a week. He’s got some decent contacts in town too.”
“For
what?
Automatic weapons?”
“Well … yeah, those too. He knows a lot of people.”
“I admit the balding klutz act is kind of charming, but you know what happened to his father. You really think it’s safe to have him around, Demon?”
Frank wasn’t my favorite person in the world, but my hand tightened on the phone regardless. The man was making a serious effort to change.
“He’s out of that life, Sam.”
“He was a gunrunner, just like his father. How do you know he’s out? How do you know the people that killed his father won’t come after him? Won’t come into our lives?”
“No one’s coming after him now.”
Sam sighed.
“Come on, he’s not that bad. Cara gave him the Sight.”
Dead silence. I waited her out, rapping my fingernails on the phone, until she finally said, “You know, Cara just gave him the Sight so she could fuck with him face to face.”
“Oh, my delicate sensibilities! I’m telling Dad.”
Sam chuckled and took a deep breath.
“You would have loved it, Sam. Cara called him a little man right before she threw him out the door.” Her chuckle broke into a laugh. “You know Frank practically worships the ground you walk on. I think you’re the only vampire he doesn’t run screaming from. Of course, you’re probably one he really
should
run screaming from. Ha, ha, ha.”
Sam sighed again and it didn’t take much to envision her patented eye roll. “Yeah, hilarious.”
“So, can you come by and give me a ride to the rental shop? Someone slashed all my tires.”
“Your
tires? You don’t say? I can’t imagine anyone getting annoyed enough to slash
your
tires
.”
I didn’t dignify that with a response.
Sam laughed and said, “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Cool, tell Dale I said hi.”
She snorted and hung up the phone.
***
I walked out front to meet Sam and was only mildly surprised to find the enormous oak tree already gone and the cobblestones repaired. I wondered how many people were walking around with new scars or tattoos they didn’t remember getting.
A while later we picked up a snazzy red Chevy Blazer from the rental shop. The whole process was slow and rather uneventful. I tried really hard not to laugh while the clerk stared at my sister the entire time.
Vampire glamour must come in handy, the whole predator, prey fascination thing. Of course, the clerk had no way of knowing Sam was a vampire. Most of the people alive today have no idea vampires exist, or ever existed. Regardless, most people still get an impressively vacuous expression when a vampire’s aura spreads out and caresses their own. Sam’s aura was oozing all over the clerk. I know she didn’t do it on purpose, but vampire auras seem to act on some subconscious level, always hunting. It was just ten times creepier because I could see the damn things. The auras never attempt to approach necromancers, so while it was creepy, it was kind of funny too. Granted, if Sam had bitten the guy, the humor level would have dropped a bit.
I parked the rental, climbed the stairs to my apartment, and turned on the television. After nodding off on the couch a few times I dragged my ass to bed.
A few hours later, my phone rang. My vision was blurry as my brain forced my eyes open so the source of the incessant ringing could be located and executed. I eventually made out the fiery red numbers on my alarm clock.
“Five fifteen?” I mumbled. I grabbed the phone and tucked it between my ear and my pillow. “Who the hell is-”
“We must meet, boy. There is much to discuss.” The woman’s voice was strong, elderly, with an anachronistic New Orleans accent.
It snapped my eyes wide and my heart pounded. “Z…Zola?”
“The cabin. Tomorrow at dusk.” There was a dark chuckle and the line went dead.
I sat up and stared at the phone. I hadn’t spoken to my master in almost two years, but I was sure whatever she wanted wasn’t going to be pleasant.
CHAPTER THREE
“Frank here.”
Frank had one of the most dispassionate phone greetings I’d ever heard. At least he sounded awake. “Are you actually up already?” I glanced at the microwave. “It’s only a little after eight.”
“Yeah, but what are you doing up?”
I shrugged and said, “I’m calling to give you your trial run. I have to leave town for a day or two. I need you to watch the shop.”
“Yeah, no problem. When do you want me there?”
“I’ll go down in a bit to forewarn Foster and company. If you want to show up in about an hour and a half, that’d be perfect. Foster can help out if you have any issues with the register.” I paused and then said, “You’ll be alright with the fairies around to help?”
I heard a scratching sound over the phone and a sigh before Frank said, “No problem Damian, I’ll be there.”
“I could get used to help that doesn’t complain about the lack of whiskey and cheese in the store.”
“What?”
“Never mind, long story.” Frank must be desperate for work if he didn’t even mention Cara throwing him out of the store. I grinned. “Thanks Frank, I’ll see you when I get back.” I hung up the phone and headed out to the rental.
***
A few minutes later I pulled in and unlocked the shop. I could feel someone watching me, and had a pretty good guess who. “Hey Foster, what’s up?” I turned and found him standing with his sword drawn and a raised eyebrow.
“Apparently you are,” he paused, “which most likely means I’m hallucinating or the world has ended. It’s only nine in the morning, hardly a respectable time for a necromancer to be awake.”
“I have to head south to meet my master.”
“Zola?” His other eyebrow shot up to join the first.
“Yep. She wants me to meet her at our old training ground.”
“Did she say why?”
“Nope, not unless you count evil giggling..”
Foster sheathed his sword and tapped his chin. “Are you going to close the shop while you’re gone?”
“Actually,” I drawled, “I was going to leave Frank in charge; a bit of a test run. You mind babysitting? Make sure he doesn’t give anything away or sell stuff to people I don’t like?”
Foster barked out a laugh and smiled. “No problem, now he can see me, I can boss him around.”
“Oh, and Foster?” He turned and looked at me. “Try not to let Mom kill the help, okay?”
He laughed and glided into the back room.
I left the store unlocked. With Foster around to keep watch, I wasn’t worried about anything growing legs and walking out before Frank showed up. I passed two young vampires on my way to the rental car. They smiled, waved, and flashed their fangs at me in the late morning sun. I waved back. I recognized the two from Sam’s Pit—her vampire family, as she sometimes calls them—but I couldn’t remember their names. The girl snickered, wrapped her arm around the boy’s waist and they continued on their way.
Some people would be surprised to see vampires out and about in the daylight; well, a lot of people would have been surprised to see vampires, period. It was somewhat unusual to see them out in the sunlight, but it wouldn’t kill them. It was almost always the young ones prowling the daytime streets. Some of their strength was sapped in the sun, but they didn’t burst into flames or turn to ash without some assistance. The kind of assistance I’d given a vampire on more than one occasion. Most vampires avoided daylight because they didn’t trust other vampires not to kill them in their weakened state, never mind the fact they all had the same disadvantage. Ah, the gift of paranoia.
I unlocked the door to the SUV and set off for the country.
It was a two-hour drive south of Saint Louis. The broad highway narrowed into two lanes on either side and eventually turned into a curvy, one lane death trap. Coldwater was a town slowly being lost to history. The old sawmill closed decades ago, homes and buildings collapsed through the years, trails forgotten and lost to time as nature reclaimed its territory. I took a left about thirty minutes later, tires crunching onto a narrow gravel drive. I bounced my head off the ceiling of the rented Chevy Blazer for another fifteen minutes and eventually crossed into an open field with a gentle hill surrounded by an old deciduous forest. The mixture of greens and shadows were a spectacle I always enjoyed, but the winter woods will always be my favorite.
At the top of the hill was a small cabin. I don’t know exactly how old it was, but it was obviously built when people were shorter. I’m around six foot five and have always ducked through the front door and all the doorways inside. Zola claimed the cabin was around before the Civil War. I didn’t doubt it. In fact, I was pretty sure Zola had been around since before the Civil War, though she’d never really come out and said it.
I parked beneath the giant oak in the middle of the field that shadowed the front of the cabin. I didn’t see Zola in the twilight as I opened the car door, though a faint orange light leaked from the steel shuttered windows. The humid country air washed over me with the hint of honeysuckle and the nearby pond. It was quite a change from the pollution-choked air of Saint Louis. With a little effort, I was able to stop drumming my fingers on the butt of the pepperbox holstered under my left arm. My gaze shifted to the well off to the side of the cabin, then back to the cabin itself. Zola was there. She hadn’t made a sound. I couldn’t make out more than her silhouette beneath the overhang of the front porch, but I didn’t need more than that. Her braided hair, knobby cane, and lithe outline didn’t leave much room for doubt.