J. H. Sked (3 page)

I could hear she was crying again, and looked over at Ruth. She nodded once, and vanished. A moment later, we could hear her voice through the speaker phone. 

"It's okay, hon. It's okay." 

"Oh, god, I wish this would end," Susan sobbed, and I reached out a paw and hit the mute button on the speaker. Pain like that doesn't need an audience.

"He wants to kill again," Mike said to the two of us. "Keeping her out of the house is a temporary measure at best. The next female that lives there, if she hits his buttons, is going to end up under a bunch of outdated laundry equipment." 

"It's a dangerous thing to do at the best of times," Mike said quietly. "And there are no guarantees it'll work." 

"If it doesn't work, what's our next option?" 

"Salt and fire," Mike said. "Salt around the house to hold the spirit, and burn the whole damned place down." 

"Bit extreme," Astrid said, and lit a cigarette. 

Mike scowled. "If your client didn't need a place to stay, I'd go that route first. I touched that mind, Astrid. If he manages to get loose from the house, he'll turn this town into an abattoir. He'll find someone to ride and use them to butcher, and if they get caught he'll jump to someone else. He's more dangerous now than when he was alive." 

I fell off the couch. 

Nine 

I
t turned out the coven would need a week to prepare for the exorcism. Nobody was willing to rush the job, once Mike explained what it was, and apparently none of them were happy about doing it.

That, more than anything else, told us how bad this was. Most covens welcome the chance for a bit of positive PR, and this particular group was very good at their work. 

Susan was not impressed when we told her she couldn't attend the ceremony. But her state of decay had got to the point that there was no way we could hide what she was; Ruth told us that the neighbouring guests at the motel had started complaining of a dead mouse in the walls. 

We bought a bunch of air fresheners and incense sticks, turned the air-conditioner to Arctic, and hoped for Saturday to roll around faster than normal. 

Ruth spent a lot of her time with Susan. By this time, she'd stopped bathing - the hot water was accelerating the whole rotting business - and spent the daylight hours in the motel room. Late at night, she'd slap on extra thick make-up and walk around town. 

Ruth didn't go with her then. Susan needed to eat, and Ruth didn't feel she could stand to one side while that happened. So Susan went out alone, and the gang banger population in that part of town took a sudden nosedive. 

"I don't think she's managed to keep one of them down yet," she answered. "When she comes in, she always has that look.." 

"There's a look?" I snorted. 

Astrid and Ruth looked at each other. 

"For girls," Astrid said, "There is definitely a look. Just watch any human with an eating disorder in a restaurant. Their eyes tell you everything when they come back to the table."

Susan's eating disorder would have to wait until we got the house sorted, though. Some of the stuff the coven needed for their working cost serious money. Susan paid it over without a murmur of protest. In fact, she paid out more than she needed to, including our full fee, plus a bonus.

Yes, I took it. I wasn't happy about it, but we had bills to pay. Rent for the office had just gone up, the apartment had a boiler that was working on not much more than hope and duct tape, and mom's shrink had kids to put through higher education.

So I took the money. I kept the bonus on ice though. To me, we hadn't earned it yet. If we fixed Susan's problem and stopped the bad guy, fair enough. Until then... Let's just say karma can be a real bitch, and I wasn't prepared to piss on her battery just yet.

The job money went into the bank (and out of it pretty fast) when Susan transferred it electronically, the cash bonus stayed locked away in the office safe. 

And then Saturday night rolled up, and all of our plans went to hell. 

Ten

W
e got to the house late.

Ruth had popped over to check on Susan, and she wasn't in the room. We spent an hour searching for her in the area without any luck.

"She's at the house," Astrid said.

I opened my eyes briefly. Astrid was driving, which meant we were going well over the speed limit, and if I watched it happen I'd end up shredding the upholstery from sheer nerves.

"You think?" I growled. Of course she was at the house. If I was her, I'd have made damn sure I was there, and the hell with the danger. So would either one of my partners. Our client might be a zombie with an eating disorder and too much money, but she wasn't a coward.

Mike was waiting at the house when we got there. The coven was not. He turned to face us we pulled and I saw his mouth moving. A second later I noticed the ear piece. One of those fancy Bluetooth headsets that make you wonder if a person is moderately insane and talking to themselves when they use them on the street. Technology just gets better and better, doesn't it? 

"Seven cars. Not one of them is currently running." He pulled something out of his jeans pocket and tossed it to me. "Neither was mine, until I found this." 

It was little clear zip-lock plastic bag, coated with some sort of white powder. Since I doubted Mike was throwing his drug stash at me, I was pretty sure the powder was salt. 

I re-opened the car door so I could see better with the interior light. Ruth and Astrid leaned over for a closer look. There was something lumpy under the salt. 

"Can we open the bag?" I asked Mike. This was really not a stupid question. We were dealing with some sort of spell, that was obvious. None of us practised magic, so we had no idea of what was in the bag. If in doubt, ask. It saves a whole world of pain. 

"Go ahead. I've neutralised it." 

I gingerly pried open the top of the bag, and tapped the bottom of the bag to shift the contents. I had no intention of putting my fingers in there, neutralised or not. I've had practitioners be wrong before. I'd rather not have something try to eat my face in the middle of suburbia. 

I carefully sealed the bag again and gave it back to Mike. The bag was aimed at him specifically, so he'd need to dispose of it. Carefully. 

"I found something else with the bag," he said, once he'd tucked it away. "It's in my car." He looked miserable. "I don't want to touch it." 

Astrid took two long strides over to the car, which was standing open, pulled open the glove compartment, and plucked the offending object out. 

It looked like the top joint of a woman's forefinger. Black and withered, and painted a bold shade of red I'd previously seen on Susan Armstrong as she sat weeping in my office a week ago. 

What. The. Fuck.

Eleven 

R
uth figured it out pretty quickly. She didn't say a word, just turned on her heel and sprinted for the house.

She made it half-way across the lawn before bouncing off something and ricocheting to the edge of the pavement. We ran over to her, and she grabbed my arm. 

Ruth looked us, hopelessly. "We're out of time," she said. "Billy,
please
." 

The text alert went off on my phone. "It's Susan," I said, and held it up for them. 

This is the best way. Sorry.

I made it to the first step of the porch before the house exploded. As a large, warm hand slapped me into the air and back across the lawn I realized two things.

Twelve 

T
he rest of the night was bedlam. The fire department turned up and made sure the blaze didn't spread, but I had a bad time talking the paramedics out of carting me off to hospital. Hospitals like doing blood tests. I have no inclination to end up in a lab for the rest of my life. 

Astrid ended up doing some vampire mojo thing to get me out of it. Not something she likes doing, and it tires her out, but it was either that or end up with me strapped to a gurney. 

We managed to trace most of what Susan had done. She got the recipe and ingredients for the hex bags off the internet, and bought the salt the same way. On-line shopping at it's most convenient.

The nights Ruth thought she was out hunting she was – but she was also tracking down the coven members. We found out later that she placed over thirty hex bags in different types of transportation; everything from cars to motorcycles to a ten-speed bike.

The lady was thorough, and very determined.

Then she went to the house; laid the salt down and went inside.

I wonder how long she sat there, after she'd turned on the gas in the kitchen. The house was a two storey, so it would have taken a while. I imagine she propped open the door to the basement so the gas would circulate as well, although Astrid told me the fire department found what was left of an empty propane tank standing on the stairs.

They also found eight bodies buried under the floor. What was left of the washing machine was embedded in the wall. Like the explosion had flung it there – or it was trying to break through to escape what was coming.

So Susan turned on the gas, and lugged a propane tank onto the stairs and opened the valve, and when it was empty she walked down the stairs, sat down on the floor, and lit a cigarette. I imagine she was smiling when she did so.