Tesser: A Dragon Among Us (A Reemergence Novel) (28 page)

"Tesser, I just got a call from Alexis. She's at Matty's place," Abe said, steeling himself.

Tesser perked up. "And? What did Matty say? Can I call her?"

"Something happened. Something bad maybe. We don't know."

Tesser's gold eyes narrowed and a flare of red could be seen deep within. "Something bad? Is Matty hurt, Abe? Did she hurt herself?"

"We don't know. Alexis said there was blood in the apartment and Matty is nowhere to be seen. She's calling the cops and then sending me Matty's address so we can head over."

Tesser turned and searched for his shoes. He found them quickly and slid them on. "I know where she lives. We slept together at her place. It's not far from here. Will you come with me? It might be dangerous, if something bad has happened."

Dangerous? What could be dangerous?
"Yeah, I'll go. I've been working on a couple new spells. I think if you're around, I'll be able to cast them."

Tesser's eyes were still flared red, but the glow subsided after he calmed a bit. "Thank you, Abe. Let's go."

The two ran down the stairs, but Abe stopped at the bottom. "Hey Mr. Doyle!" Abe shouted up into the cavernous stairwell. "Mr. Doyle!"

"What have I told you about shouting?" Mr. Doyle said from the top of the home. The old man leaned over the railing, looking frailer than ever.
 

"Sorry, Mr. Doyle. Something bad has happened to Tesser's girlfriend, we think. We're headed over to her apartment to see what's going on. Keep your eyes peeled. I'll let Ellen know on the way out."

Mr. Doyle looked speechless. "Very well then. Good luck, boys. Losing a loved one is the hardest thing to recover from. I hope it is not as you fear."

Tesser turned and looked up at Mr. Doyle, his hand still on the front door knob of the house. "Thank you, Mr. Doyle. While we are gone, please be careful."

Mr. Doyle nodded from his perch atop the landing rail.

Abe looked back to Tesser as he turned the knob and pulled the wide door inward. Abe was shocked to see several men standing outside the door on the stone steps.
 
Who the fuck are those guys?

The men all wore what appeared to be black tactical gear and were armed with incredibly heavy-duty weaponry. They looked like a SWAT team. The man in the front, whose hand was still poised to knock on the door, wore a simple black suit. Abe could see the grip of a large handgun on his waist under the suit coat. The rest of the men behind him all raised the muzzles of their guns several inches, prepared to lift them higher to fire on the two men inside the house. To fire on Tesser and Abe.

Tesser dropped the tilt of his head a bit, furrowing his brows. Abe could feel a shimmer coming off him, a vibration as the dragon somehow flexed an unseen power. The hair on Abe's neck stood up as if electricity was coursing through the room.

"You are Tesser, correct?"

"Who are you?" Tesser asked, sniffing the air innocuously. High above, Abe heard Mr. Doyle disappear from the landing, his feet dragging on the thick carpet.

"I am Mr. Host. I need you to come with me," the suited man replied.

"You are not a lawman, and I go with no one. Answer my question. Who are you?" Tesser said angrily, his hands balling into fists. Abe felt the thrums of stored potential energy again.
If Tesser were to uncork whatever he's building…

"Sir, there's no need to be rude. If you'll just come with us, we have information that might interest you. It's about a woman we believe you care about," the man named Mr. Host said.

"You know what happened to Matty?" Abe asked behind Tesser.

Mr. Host's creepy eyes never left Tesser's. "We do indeed know the state and whereabouts of Miss Rindahl. I can guarantee her safety, as well as the safety of your cohabitants, Mr. Tesser. All you need to do is agree to inflict no harm on my men."

"Dude, Tesser, can you agree to that? This dude knows what happened to Matty."

Tesser sniffed the air again, this time more obviously. He started to nod his head, as if remembering something or approving of a scent on the air. "Your scent. It's the same scent as the men behind you."

"We must be wearing the same deodorant. I need your answer, Tesser. The longer we wait, the more danger Miss Rindahl is in."

"I remember you. I don't remember where I remember you from, but I remember your scent. Right before I fell asleep." Tesser said quietly, almost angrily.

"Tesser, don't do anything stupid; I don't wanna get shot," Abe said, taking a step away as he felt that intensity grow again. The chandelier above the dining room table nearby began to vibrate slightly.

Without taking his eyes off Mr. Host, Tesser spoke: “Abe this man is Veil-Born. From another plane of existence. Not human, not animal. He's unnatural. He is other."

"Nonsense," Mr. Host replied.

"He said he'd guarantee our safety. We just can't hurt his men."

Tesser spoke once more, "He
is
his men, Abraham. One and the same, made of the same non-flesh. If we agree to his bargain, then he gains leverage. He can then kill us or harm us at his leisure, and we are bound to his daemon's deal."

"Daemons? What? He
is
his men? Could you be any more fucking vague?" Abe asked as he took a step back behind a coat rack, as if it would stop automatic gunfire.

"He's right," Mr. Doyle said from the stairs above. Abe turned and looked up. Mr. Doyle had returned and stood a few feet away, holding a pocket watch at arm's length. The steel disc swung erratically from the still arm of the elder mage. Oddly, the watch repeatedly swung towards the doorway where the strange men were as if they were magnetic. "This is an Asmodean compass. It senses those from beyond the veil. It hasn't ticked in years, but now it feels like it's coming apart at the seams. These men are not men, they are devils, Abraham. Evil made flesh."

"Well fuck you," Mr. Host said bluntly.
 
He had a look of extreme irritation on his face.

Abe looked back and caught the glimmer of movement outside one of the living room windows. More men were moving about. Things.
We're fucking surrounded.

Tesser snarled an ultimatum, "Well, Mr. Host, I think I'll strike a new bargain with you. You tell me exactly where Matty is and I send you back beyond the veil in a pool of your own blood."

Mr. Host shook his head, disappointed. "Tesser, the world is different now. They don't care about magic, or gremlins, or boggarts, or dragons like you. It's money and greed. That is our domain. You've lost this world already and you slept through the fight like a slumbering princess. It's been a long time since we put you to sleep, but we haven't forgotten how. You wouldn't want us to ruin this nice house and kill these poor fools, would you?" Mr. Host suddenly looked… different. Indistinct and thorny in a way that defied physical explanation. Abe found his hands shaking and his mouth dry.

Tesser's eyes flared brighter than ever, and Abe felt his heart throb so powerfully, it felt like it had stopped beating entirely. "Let's see you try to make me sleep again."

The blink of an eye later, Abe was shocked at how loud the gunfire was. It almost distracted him from the pain of the bullets as he fell to the floor.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Spoon

Spoon was sick. Very sick. At least that's what he told his Captain at the station a couple of days ago. He needed some time off, and his union rep told him just how to phrase his request to get it without raising too many questions. Spoon needed the time off to get his head straight, to pull it out of his ass, and get away from this Tesser obsession.

It wasn't healthy, it wasn't safe, and it wasn't professional in the least. It was almost insanity.

I'm good now though. I took a couple days off, I checked in with a department shrink, and I feel better. I still can't explain why I got so fucking obsessed with this European dude, but I'm good now. Better. I'm back to work in the morning, my boss never found out I was up to weird shit, and I collared my perp. So what if he turned himself in, I closed the case. All is well again in Spoonville.

Spoon was driving down the street in the Back Bay in his cruiser, his window down and letting in the chill autumn evening. It was dark, and he was making one last trip down Tesser's street to wash his hands of the whole affair.

Just one last wave goodbye.

Spoon slowed his cruiser several blocks away when he saw three very peculiar black SUVs double-parked in the street Tesser’s home. They looked exactly like the vehicles the Secret Service used when the President was visiting.
 

Oh, fuck me. He's some kind of dignitary. That's why he was setting off all my alarms. That makes so much sense. Probably some Bulgarian prince on vacation in Beantown.

Spoon stopped his unmarked cruiser entirely when he saw the crowd of heavily armed men at the front door of the home. Three large males wearing tactical gear stood on the steps behind a man wearing a black suit. Even in the darkness of the impending night, Spoon could see that they were equipped for war. They had M4s, wore full head-to-toe armor, and were ready to fire. The man in the suit at the door looked cool as a cucumber.

Several more men, dressed in the same uniforms, stood at the vehicles, watching the neighborhood for movement. Moving around the front of the house were two more of the men. They flanked the front door and were getting a firing angle on the interior through the massive windows. Several more could be seen forming a perimeter around the SUVs and the house. Without thinking, Spoon picked up his phone and dialed his Captain's office. Spoon knew he'd be there.

The caller ID told the Captain who it was. "Yeah? Spoon?"

"Hey, I'm on Beacon Street. I'm sitting here looking at a trio of heavy-duty black SUVs double-parked, and there's about ten guys dressed up like a breaching team at a house. They aren't BPD SWAT and they aren't identified with any kind of unit or bureau markings. Do you know anything going on here? Can you find out fast because something is about to go down."

"Yeah, hold on." Spoon's boss put him on hold. Spoon's sixth sense was flaring hard and he pulled his cruiser over and double-parked it, the same as the suspicious trucks. He got out of the driver's seat and went to the trunk. His Kevlar was in there, as well as his own department-issued M4. Spoon sat his phone down in the trunk and put it on speaker as he started to get his SWAT gear on over his tee shirt and shorts.

As Spoon put his helmet on, his Captain came back, "Hey, Spoon?"

Spoon took the phone off speaker and held it to the bottom of the helmet, "Yeah, Captain?"

"I just checked and we've got nothing. Either it's an off-the-record-hit that BPD HQ doesn't know of, or something fishy is going on."

"Can you get some black and whites over here right now? We need a uniformed presence here stat. I got bad vibes, Captain. I dunno why."

"You're a cop. We get those kinds of feelings as a profession. Put that shit on your resume. Okay. I'll make a few more calls too. Don't approach Spoon if you're in civvies. I don’t want you to-"
 

Gunfire erupted at the door, drowning out the Captain's voice on the phone's speaker.

Spoon's mind immediately flashed back to the valleys of Afghanistan against his will, reminding him of all the war he'd fought there. The high-powered weapons created a rapid-fire staccato of echoes that reverberated up and down the city street and set off car alarms in every direction. The muzzle flashes lit up the darkened street and caused Spoon to squint slightly. He ducked behind the end of his car.

"Shots fired, Captain, gotta go!" Spoon said into his phone before hitting the end call button. He slid a magazine into the well of his weapon and chambered a round. With his thumb he flicked the weapon off safe. Spoon tossed his phone into the trunk of the cruiser and took off at a full sprint towards the melee, his weapon up high, ready to fire. When he got closer, he fished out his badge, held it high, and started to holler out, "Boston Police Department! Cease fire! Cease fire!"

One of the men who had been at the hood of the first SUV facing the gun battle at the door turned towards Spoon and raised his weapon in Spoon's direction. "Boston Police! Lower your weapon!" Spoon yelled again. He hoped his badge and the giant BOSTON POLICE on the front of his vest would be sufficient identification to avoid being shot.

The man in the tactical gear fired a three-round burst at Spoon, and by some freak stroke of good luck, all three bullets whizzed through the air around his body. It was almost like something deflected them away from hitting him. Spoon felt them buzz by, and a fraction of his mind drifted back to his time at war.

Motherfucker.
Spoon shouldered his weapon and squeezed the trigger twice, putting both rounds center mass, high. The man crumpled to the ground, and Spoon kept running at his collapsed form. The rest of the men present in the street were still shooting at the house and whoever was inside with Tesser. The cacophony in the street was incredible.