Dead Rising (8 page)

My mind was screaming a warning, but all I could do was focus every bit of my mental capabilities toward containing this being. I had an instinctive feeling this wasn’t a friendly or helpful demon.

“Thank you for attending, but your presence is not required. Depart to hell forthwith, not to return unless summoned anew.”

That was kind of the equivalent of saying “get the fuck out of here, please”. The response was a roar of power that knocked me backward. I lost focus. The runes dimmed, then darkened, plunging the entire apartment into blackness. Something cold brushed my side—icy cold, sharp pain, and then numbness.

“
T’voghnel anmijapes
,” I screamed, throwing all of my power into the banishment every Templar learned before they could walk.

The sound of small explosions all over my apartment had me curled in a ball, shielding my face. I felt the demon’s power like a vise on my head… and then nothing. I counted my breaths, waiting in case that metaphorical other shoe was about to drop. When I finally opened my eyes and rolled upright, the golden glow of a street light was streaming through a broken window into my apartment. Candle fragments, broken glass and wine were all over the floor. I got up and made my way to the light switch, careful to not step on any of the broken glass.

It was just as horrible with the lights on. In fact, I was tempted to turn them off and go to bed, hopefully to awaken to a miraculously repaired apartment, but I knew better. Slipping on my flip-flops, I grabbed a roll of paper towels and a broom, and got to work.

Cleaning wasn’t easy when your hands were shaking. Wine and broken glass wouldn’t be a problem, especially since the carpet was nicely rolled up against the wall and still relatively clean. It was the lack of window that was going to cause me some serious trouble. It was past midnight on a Thursday, and I didn’t have a sheet of plywood to nail over the thing. Would someone try to rob me up on the third floor? I thought about the money in the tampon box, about my need to sleep without worrying if someone would climb in and assault me. Tired as I was, I’d need to do one more spell—an illusion this time, to make sure the window looked intact. It wouldn’t last past dawn, but at least I’d be able to sleep, especially if I added an alarm spell to it.

I thought about the demon that had appeared. I’d been pushing that to the back of my mind, but with the apartment clean and the carpet re-rolled out, it had returned to my thoughts. Who had it been? It sure as heck wasn’t Vine. I’d seen him summoned numerous times. He’d been the go-to demon for
Haul Du
.

A vision hit me of that smoke demon appearing the next time
Haul Du
summoned Vine. Could they hold him? Being used to Vine, the experienced mages didn’t always take the precautions I’d just done. If that thing showed up instead of Vine, a whole lot of mages could die. I wasn’t very happy with the members of
Haul Du
, but I didn’t exactly want them slaughtered by a minion of Satan.

I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts, hesitating a few moments before dialing Raven. It went to voice mail four times before she finally answered.

“I’m not supposed to be talking to you.” She was whispering, like others were nearby, listening in.

“This is urgent. Have you guys summoned Vine lately?”

She hesitated. “That’s not… I can’t talk to non-members about such things.”

Damn it. “You’ve got to tell the others, Raven. I summoned Vine tonight and another demon came. He was not friendly, and I barely managed to send him back. Cross Vine off your list and use another Goetic demon.”

“Maybe you made a mistake with the sigil?”

A valid assumption for someone who’d only been an initiate for eight months. Raven was forgetting something, though. “I’m a Templar. I’ve been drawing sigils in a null room for over a decade.”

“Maybe the incantation—”

“Something is wrong with Vine. Either he’s dead, or he’s been subsumed by this other demon. Trust me, Raven, you don’t want to deal with this guy.”

“They won’t believe me, Aria. And I’ll be in big trouble just for talking to you.”

These idiots were going to get themselves killed. There were a few of them that I wouldn’t mind seeing in the obituaries, but I liked Raven. There had been a time when I’d considered her my best friend.

“Tell them that I left you a message. As a Templar, I’m tasked with protecting Pilgrims on the Path. This is my public service announcement to you
Haul Du
pilgrims, warning you of danger ahead. Okay?”

She laughed, and for a second I felt a lump lodge in my chest. We’d been friends.

“Okay. Take care, Aria.”

She hung up before I could reply. Damn, that lump in my chest hurt. I had two quick spells to do before bed and I was an emotional wreck. Time for drastic measures. Time for the Emergency Beer.

Everyone should have an Emergency Beer. Not the light stuff that you drink after mowing the lawn, or something happy and fruity. No, Emergency Beer should be dark and rich, with enough alcohol to be noticed, but not enough to put you in a stupor. I carefully choose my Emergency Beer, replacing it with something else when it had been consumed. This one was a barley wine that had been in my fridge for five months.

I got out a brandy snifter, wanting to honor the Emergency Beer with an appropriate container. Then I reached in to grab it, the bottle of barley wine in my almost-empty fridge next to a bottle of mustard and a white box.

Huh? I pulled the white box out with the care of a bomb-squad technician. The way my evening was going, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find a bomb in my refrigerator. I stared at it as I poured my beer, but there were no red or blue wires to snip, just a piece of twine looped into a bow on top.

I pulled the thread, eased open the lid, and looked inside. There, nestled in wax paper, sat six cannoli.

I wasn’t sure whether this was an apology or not, but any guy who brought me pastries, even if he broke into my apartment to do so, was pretty close to winning my heart. Too bad he was a vampire.

M
Y LANDLORD WAS
pissed. Not only was he up early on a Friday morning supervising my window replacement, but he’d needed to pay the contractors the emergency rate. Correction,
I’d
needed to pay, because as I’d been informed many times in the last thirty minutes, these sort of repairs were not his responsibility.

I’d thought about lying and saying some drunk threw a rock at my window last night, but I just couldn’t. It
was
my fault. So instead I lied and told him I was practicing tai-chi and had a mishap with my bo staff. I think the only reason I wasn’t out on the street with all of my belongings was my payment of last and this month’s rent in cash. That meant I was caught up. And it also meant that after paying for the window, I’d have about fifty bucks left in my tampon box.

Which was just enough to get me to and from Middleburg, Virginia.

The summoning hadn’t worked, and given the results I was reluctant to try again with another Goetic demon. My call with Raven last night made it quite clear that I shouldn’t expect help from
Haul Du
or any of the other ceremonial magic groups in the northeast corridor. That left my family.

It says a lot that I was weighing the risks of attempting another summoning against the unpleasantness a family visit would bring. I knew I’d eventually have to go home and make nice with everyone. My parents had been leaving the occasional message on my voicemail. There were regular deposits in my old checking account—money I refused to touch. They were extending the olive branch, and I knew I looked like a jerk for not accepting it. Of course, that olive branch was full of thorns, and any return of the prodigal daughter would be celebrated with constant questions about when I was going to be a responsible adult and take my Oath.

Ugh. Luckily I had to work later this afternoon and could delay this trip until tonight. Weekends were usually family time, and there was a good chance my brother and sister and their families would also be in residence. I’d soldier through Sunday, and head back that night using work as an excuse. Hopefully I’d not need to repeat this trip for another six months.

By the time the contractors finished with the window it was nearly noon and I’d eaten three cannoli for breakfast. Hyped up on sugar, I locked my door and headed for the police station.

The records division was in the Baltimore City Archives, which luckily had a parking lot that didn’t charge an arm and a leg. Once in, I made my way to the information desk and asked where to file a request to see a cold case file.

“Online.”

Crap. “Can I fill out the form here?”

The woman shoved two papers at me. “Fill out the registration form, and the research appointment request.”

I thanked her profusely and went off to fill out the forms. When I returned the woman was gone, and a man was at the desk. He was a balding guy with a skin tone that desperately needed some sunlight and a paunch that desperately needed some time on the treadmill. Although if I had this job, I’d probably be deathly pale and fat, too. There’s only so much sitting a person can do in one day, and the boxes of donuts on a table toward the back probably didn’t help with the weight issue. I eyed them, but was still buzzing from my cannoli fest this morning.

The man looked over the forms and nodded. “Seems complete. We’ll order the files and call you when they arrive to schedule a time for you to see them.”

Government. Moving at the pace of an advancing glacier since the dawn of time. We Templars weren’t much better, but sheesh, I needed to see the records now, not in eight months.

“Is there anything I can do to speed this up?” I tried on my best smile. My looks weren’t movie-star beautiful, but I’d been called pretty.

No pretty enough, evidently. “They might not even be here. A good number of the records are kept at the Maryland State Archives in Annapolis and we have to order them. If you want to pay a fee, we can make copies for you and mail them.”

I figured that would take even longer. “No thanks. Is it possible they’re on microfiche or scanned electronically? I don’t need to see the originals, just read the files.”

He smiled sympathetically and gestured around the room at their antiquated equipment. “It’s not like in the television shows. Unless something is going to trial and we need to get copies to the fifty lawyers on the case, it doesn’t get scanned. Reports are electronic, but they’re archived after a certain length of time, and lots of notes are still done by hand.”

Drat. “Thanks anyway. I appreciate it.” I did. He’d taken the time to explain, hadn’t dismissed me or bitten my head off. Working in a coffee shop for six months had taught me how hard it was to remain friendly and cheerful with grumpy, demanding people on the other side of the counter.

“Want a donut?”

This dude needed a promotion. He was giving government workers a good name.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He waved me around the desk over to the table where the square boxes were lined up. They were half empty, and of course all the chocolate ones were gone. I had my pick of glazed, jelly filled, and some mystery cake-type donut.

“I’m Rob.” He pointed at the mystery donut. “They’re apple spice. Don’t tell anyone, but they’re the best ones here.”

Guess my smile worked better than I thought it did. “Aria. And your donut secret is safe with me.” I pulled back my sleeve so it didn’t drag in the powdered sugar and reached for an apple spice.

When I looked up, Rob was staring at my wrist. “You’re a Templar.”

How did he know? Most humans went about their normal lives thinking we died out with the Crusades. “Yes, I’m a Templar.” I didn’t feel the need to explain my non-Knight status. “Thanks for the donut, Rob.”

“In fourteen twenty-eight a group of travelers was captured just outside of Vaucouleurs, France. Half of the party died, but the rest were rescued by a Knight of the Temple.” His wide eyes met mine. “I’m descended from one of those survivors.”

Hundred Years War. Joan of Arc. It was way past the heyday of the Templars but some of the families in France had survived the purge and continued their duties in stealth. It warmed my heart to hear his story. It had been so long since we did that sort of thing. It was nice to know this tale had been handed down through generations, that this man remembered and appreciated our protection.

Rob looked around, as if worried he’d be overheard. We were the only ones in here beyond an ancient woman nodding off at her desk in the far corner and a young man bouncing his head vigorously to whatever was streaming through his headphones. “Look, those files really do take forever to get here, but I’m due for my break. I’ll pull a couple boxes of microfiche and let you look through them in one of the rooms.”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” I protested. I didn’t, but I did really want to look at those files. I had a couple of hours to kill until my shift started. Might as well root through a few boxes of microfiche.

“No one will know. It’s Friday. Most everyone is off today anyway.” He grinned. “Besides, I can trust a Templar. If it weren’t for your Order, I wouldn’t even have been born.”

I don’t know how trustworthy I was, but I certainly wasn’t going to run off with a bunch of microfiche or some giant heavy piece of viewing equipment.

Rob ushered me into a small room with two desks, two chairs, and two viewers. I sat. And waited. The donut was long gone and I was wishing I’d brought a bottle of water by the time my-man Rob came back in, two boxes stacked high in his arms. He slammed them down on the table, his face red with exertion.

“I had to hurry, they were back farther than I expected.” He waved a hand at the dusty boxes. “This is all I have onsite from forty years ago. I can’t guarantee you’ll find what you need.”

“Fingers crossed,” I told him, lifting the lid off one box and staring at the little rolls of cartridges inside. “Thanks for this.”

Rob went back to work, leaving me with the sterile room and a daunting amount of tape to search through. I felt like that miller’s daughter in Rumpelstiltskin, facing a room full of straw and expecting to spin it all to gold. I had two hours. Better start spinning.