The Curse Servant (The Dark Choir Book 2) (32 page)

“They have an appointment on Monday.”

“I see. With luck she’ll find some relief.”

“No offense, but I’m not holding my breath.” I regretted the tone instantly. “Sorry. It’s been a long couple days.”

“I understand. You’re clearly upset over this.”

“I am. And other things. Not to bore you, but I have job problems, I guess you could say.”

Father Mark chuckled softly. “I can definitely understand that!”

“So, anyway. Thanks for checking in. It was good of you.”

“I don’t know if it’s good or just reasonable. I try to keep my mission on this Earth in mind, but sometimes I just want to know if people are okay.”

The Father and I had that in common, to be sure. “Must be nice having a clear cut mission to work with.”

“Perhaps. I wouldn’t know.”

“Well, you literally have a rule book to go by.”

“Mister Lake, every man’s walk with God is a peculiar agony. It’s personal and complicated. If I take peace in my life, it’s from the knowledge that there’s someone greater than I who actually does understand it.”

“Well, I’m splitting my time between esoteric practice and politics, so I doubt there’s a force in the Cosmos that actually understands any of it.”

“Sounds like a real struggle.”

“You have no idea. I feel like I can’t focus on one without screwing the other.”

He laughed again. “Now you sound like a man of the cloth.”

“How so?”

“From the Gospel of Matthew. No man can serve two masters. He will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. Granted, Christ was talking about money, but I think He had a greater sense of how we can get pulled in too many directions.”

I leaned back on my stool and took a breath.

No man can serve two masters. But that’s what this thing was trying to do, wasn’t it? Serving a master. Zeno was right about that. This thing had a master.

What if it wasn’t just obeying a master? What if it was created to obey? Created to serve?

It occurred to me…

This thing could have been created. And it wasn’t centuries old.

“Mister Lake?”

“Father? You are an absolute genius.”

“Oh. Well, I―”

“Seriously. Father Mark. I could kiss you.”

He chuckled, “I’m glad I could help, then.”

“You have. You really have. I’m really sorry, though. I have to let you go.”

“God bless, Mister Lake.”

“Yeah. Back at you.”

I hung up and pounded the last of the whiskey. I slapped a tensky onto the bar and ran out onto the street, sprinting until I hugged the corner of Carroll Street. My lungs burned, but I sucked in as much humid summer air as I could and bolted across the street, slid between the Jeep and the Audi, and barreled into the shop door.

Edgar and Wren sat on that horrible green couch. Their faces snapped to me as I galloped into the shop, trying to catch my breath.

“I… I know what it is.”

Edgar stood up. “Huh?”

“The thing inside Elle. I know what it is. Makes perfect sense.”

It was Wren’s turn to stand up. “What?”

Edgar offered a hand to steady me, but I just bent over and worked to get my breathing under control.

When I finally pulled in a steady breath, I straightened up and coughed.

“It works on every level. Remember what Zeno told us? This thing was either acting out of ignorance or arrogance? Well, I think it was a little of both. My God, it even explains why it knew a basic, but obscure Egyptian charm.”

“What, Dorian?” Wren demanded. “What is it?”

I took one last deep breath and looked Edgar in the eye. “It’s a servitor.”

hat’s a servitor?” Wren asked.

“Thoughtform, projected from a practitioner, and given a power source to make it autonomous. Usually it’s a shard of the practitioner’s soul. My God, it’s been staring at me this whole time.”

Edgar walked a circle. “Whoa.”

“Right?”

I explained, “This thing is limited in its knowledge. The knowledge of its creator. But it’s not independent. It’s limited. It’s working off a playbook it was given, and now it’s trapped inside Elle, without orders.”

Edgar snapped his fingers. “And it’s a soul-powered thoughtform, right? Prayer won’t dislodge it. Neither would the Key of Solomon. Neither modality is geared to manipulate human soul energy. But there’s a problem. Servitors can’t possess people.”

“Says who?”

“I’ve never heard of it happening before.”

I shrugged. “Think about it, though. If it was possible to send a servitor into another person, it would be another soul-powered entity residing within a body. Hell, the owner’s soul would mask the alien presence. That’s why my pendulum didn’t pick up anything.”

“But who would do this?” Wren demanded. “Why us?”

“It wasn’t you this thing was after. I keep telling you, it hit two other people first. That campaign worker, then Ches. It’s being sent out to people who would get close to me.”

“I thought the other person was a stranger?” Edgar chided.

“He knew Bright would call me in. Son of a bitch!”

“Who? Who made this thing?” Wren asked pulling close.

“This hermetic hitman McHenry called in. I’ve seen him a couple times, I think. Standing outside my house.”

Edgar sniffled. “What did he look like?”

“I… don’t know. It was impossible to see his face. Kind of fuzzy. I think he was using a glammer.”

“When did it start? The first time, I mean?”

“The day you met me at Lexington Market.” I winced. “The day you introduced me to Carmody.”

Edgar frowned. “Ah, man. No way. He isn’t into soul magic.”

“Really? Because I have a particularly scary soul merchant over on the West Coast who wants Carmody put into a curse locker something fierce. I wonder why that is? Maybe because this isn’t the first time he pulled a trick like this?”

Wren put a hand to her forehead. “For the love of Goddess, someone please tell me who Carmody is.”

I muttered, “That man who was just here earlier.”

Her eyes lit on fire. “He was here?”

“Yeah. Probably checking in on this thing.”

Edgar shook his head. “Why would he risk that? Doesn’t make sense.”

“No. It does. Because of what Zeno said. Elle was younger than he expected her to be. Maybe he didn’t even know better than to send a servitor into a child. Arrogance and ignorance. But he’s a practitioner, right? Remember that unmaking charm Elle was chanting? That’s basic hermetic theory. Probably didn’t even get it right. Zeno said the Hebrew was tortured. But it was enough to undo his Goetia.”

Wren put a hand on both our arms. “So the question is, what can get rid of a servitor?”

I stared at Edgar, who just stared back at me.

“I’m not really sure.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “Back to the beginning, then?”

“Well, we know who sent it. We get him involved in extracting it.”

Edgar countered, “If we’re right about this.”

“Yeah. If we’re right. If we’re wrong, and we accuse Carmody, he’ll disappear. Which poses a problem for…”

“For what?”

Holy shit. “I might have a solution.”

Wren hopped up into my face. “What’s the solution?”

“I’ll have to make a call.”

Edgar squinted. “Quinn Gillette?”

“There’s an exchange of services on the table.”

Wren gripped my shirt. “You have a phone, right? So call.”

I held up a hand and took a step back. This was big. It was scary big. Gillette made me an offer. She’d reacquire my soul if I did her that one task. And it wasn’t a small task. But if I did manage to curse Carmody, likely the one who caused this entire calamity to begin with, it probably wouldn’t matter to Gillette if she saved my soul or Elle’s. She was, after all, practiced in the creation and removal of servitors. Hell, at that point, she was the only name that came to mind when it came to this kind of soul magic.

“Dorian?” Wren droned. “Magic phone call?”

“We have to be really damn sure about this, guys.”

“What’s to discuss? We’re sure.”

I shook my head. “I can probably get Gillette to remove it. But it’s going to mean I have to curse someone else. Like, a for real Nether Curse.”

Edgar grumbled, “Like you did to Osterhaus?”

“Yeah. Basically exactly like Osterhaus.”

“So you have to kill someone,” Edgar clarified.

I nodded.

Wren cocked her head. “Do it.”

“Wren.”

Edgar stepped in front of her. “Hang on. We don’t know who he has to curse. What if it’s someone else’s daughter? You okay with that?”

Wren set her jaw. “Who? Who do you have to curse, Dorian? Do you know?”

I nodded again.

“Then who is it? I think we have a right to know.”

I answered, “Carmody.”

Edgar turned to me, then slapped the side of his thigh. “He was just here. That was our chance to get a piece of him.”

I winced at Edgar’s sudden shift in caution. “Carmody’s small-time, but he isn’t that careless.”

“Don’t you need his blood or something? For a curse, you have to have that physical component.”

“This is true, and I already have it.”

Edgar’s brow lifted. “You do?”

“A vial of his blood.”

“Where did you get a vial of his blood?”

“He gave it to me.”

Edgar chuckled, then frowned. “Carmody just gave you a vial of his blood? Why would anyone in the Life give someone a vial of their own blood?”

“Collateral,” I explained. “At least that was his angle. Obviously it’s not his.”

Wren peered at me from behind Edgar. “So either he’s stupid or he’s an asshole?”

“Maybe a little of both,” I answered. “I swear dabblers will be the death of me.”

Wren asked, “He honestly gave you fake blood?”

Edgar waved his finger. “Who said it was fake blood? Maybe we should be asking whose blood it is?”

He had a point. I had spent more time assuming the blood wasn’t Carmody’s, but I hadn’t questioned whom he was handing over for me to curse.

“I have no idea.”

Edgar added, “Do you still have any of that blood mojo you got from Osterhaus?”

“No. That burned away with the contract.”

Wren leaned against the spiral stairs. “Dorian, is this man worth cursing?”

“He isn’t well-liked. But he looked like the better party in a particularly messy West Coast intrigue I’m wading through.” I looked to Edgar. “You ever hear anything about Carmody using soul magic?”

Edgar shook his head. “No. He’s mostly just an information broker.”

“What about glammers?”

“Can’t tell. I don’t really know a lot about him. He knows more about me, really.”

“Well, that fills me with all kinds of fuzzy. At least I know he needed a primer text on curses, so he can’t be that thoroughly schooled.”

“Dorian, if this is the guy, then I’m down to curse his ass.” He turned to Wren and put an arm around her. “We’ll do it if we have to.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Look, you put it out there for us already. You can’t keep doing this without expecting it to bite you, man.”

I waved him off. “Hey. This is for Elle.”

Edgar’s eyes moistened, and he quickly ran a finger under his nose. “So, how can we know for sure?”