Chapter 5
The humans who had been caught near Stricken’s demonic smoke bomb exit lurched, coughing into the MCB bullpen. The interrogation room had gotten so thoroughly gassed that it had activated the fire alarm. I felt like I’d been flash-banged and my borrowed MCB T-shirt wasn’t a very good gas mask.
The bullpen area was much less chaotic, but the whole place stank of sulfur and it was still hard to see. Luckily, they must have disabled the fire sprinklers to keep from frying all the computers, because at least we weren’t getting drenched. The MCB agents who hadn’t been nearly suffocated were scrambling, weapons out, thinking they were under attack.
Figuring that smoke rises, I found a corner and laid down on the carpet to try and catch my breath. While lying there, I realized that the flash from the demon had been actual fire because my eyebrows and arm hair were singed and crinkly. I felt like I had a sunburn.
Franks probably had armored lungs or something because inhaling all that smoke hadn’t done anything to hamper his ability to shout orders. “Jefferson! Do you have Stricken’s signal?”
Grant ran to a laptop that was open in one of the cubicles and started clicking buttons.
“You stuck a tracker on Stricken?” I asked between bouts of coughing.
“Of course. Four of them. There’s no way he’ll . . . ” Grant trailed off and stared at the screen. “I’ve got nothing, Franks.”
Franks stood there, wearing an expression of absolute disgust on his big square mug. I realized that he was holding a chunk of the table from the interrogation room in his hand, the steel of which was still glowing orange from being magically sheared through. So much for the chains.
Cueto was leaning against a cube wall, tie undone, wheezing. “How’d that thing breach our perimeter? Franks!”
“Yes, sir.”
“What was that?”
“Unknown.”
I was a little surprised he said that, because Franks was normally super observant. But he had been busy throwing his body through glass after his bullets hadn’t worked so maybe he hadn’t seen her face. I’d been closer and must have gotten a better look. I pointed at the last picture on the MCB’s Most Wanted wall, of the demon woman with the fangs. “That’s her right there.” I hacked up some brimstone phlegm and spit on the MCB’s carpet.
“Maybe,” Franks muttered.
“No. I’m sure. You’re probably going to want to bump her up a few spots from number ten.”
“Damn it,” Cueto said. “Alert every agent in the city. Lanoth is in league with Stricken. We don’t know how far her kind can shadow-walk carrying a passenger. They might still be near. Get a sniper team on the roof and scramble the chopper. Check the footage from every camera. And somebody open some windows already!”
The director must have forgotten this particular MCB office was in a basement. It took me a second to pick Beth from STFU out of the chaos because she’d wrapped a scarf around her face to filter the smoke. She was only a few feet away. Her ninja skills must have been second only to Gretchen.
“Where’s Heather?” I asked her.
“She ran outside to use her nose,” Beth said. “If she catches a scent, she’ll call for backup.”
Considering taking Stricken alive had already resulted in him escaping once today, I very much doubted she’d be waiting for backup. If Heather found Stricken, she’d pluck his heart out, then call it in. “Good luck with that.”
“We paid those stupid elves to draw their stupid magic runes on all our offices to prevent this kind of invisible magic portal bullshit!” Cueto roared. “How did a succubus get in here? I want answers!”
I sure hoped those weren’t the same elves MHI used. “Did any of those elven contractors ever happen to work for STFU while Stricken was in charge?” I asked Beth quietly.
“We used European elves as contractors. They’re snoots, but their work is usually solid. The American ones are usually a little too yee-haw, fly by the seat of their pants for us. But if Stricken learned their runes he could have taught his people how to get around them. I’ll go check on that. You should stick around, Pitt. MCB isn’t done with you yet. If MHI knew there was a Ward up for grabs and didn’t call it in, there’s going to be hell to pay.” The head of Unicorn stomped off to make some calls.
According to Heather, her current boss was actually a moral and decent person, so basically Stricken’s total opposite. However, Beth still worked for the uncaring federal leviathan, and I didn’t want to wait around to get yelled at or worse. So as soon as Beth was out of sight, I got up and headed for the exit. The MCB was awfully distracted so it would be a real shame not to take advantage of that.
I saw the evidence bag with all my stuff in it, but it was over on the desk next to where Grant and Franks were checking camera views. There was no way to grab the bag without being seen. Everything in it was replaceable except for the pistol. It had sentimental value because Julie had given it to me and we’d been through a lot together. But it was slip out now, or risk getting tied up in Fed BS for the rest of forever while the Ward got further and further away. So I walked out.
The air was much more breathable in the parking garage . . . except the mysterious PUFF Adjuster was standing there, briefcase in hand, obviously waiting for me. Oddly enough, even though he’d been in the hallway where all the smoke had vented, he looked completely unfazed.
“Going somewhere, Mr. Pitt?”
“Yeah, home. I’m not under arrest. I did what you people asked me to. So I’ll take the thanks of my grateful country and get out of your way while you guys handle your fugitive business.”
“Of course.” Coslow looked me over slowly. I couldn’t tell if he was disapproving of me in particular or just mildly irritated in general. It could go either way. “Will you be keeping the promise you made to Mr. Stricken?”
I was still a little flustered and oxygen deprived. “What promise?”
“You agreed to deal with the specific events Stricken alluded to. Events which would necessitate a Ward Stone in order to prevent a tragedy of unknown nature. I observed you, speaking on behalf of Monster Hunter International, entering into an agreement with Mr. Stricken. I shall check my notes.” He reached into his jacket, pulled out his little notebook, and flipped it open to a page . . . which appeared to have an entire handwritten transcript of my conversation with Stricken in it already somehow.
“That’s a nifty trick,” I muttered.
Coslow didn’t look up from his notes. “Yes. Here it is. You said, I quote, Fine, I will look into it.” He put the notebook away. “That would appear to be a verbal contract. A gentleman honors his contracts. I take contracts very seriously, Mr. Pitt.”
“I bet you do. You seemed proud of that big one you printed out for Stricken, but last I saw it had gotten blown all over the room and most of the pages had caught fire.” I didn’t know what Coslow was, with the magical healing and Stricken’s vague utterances, but there’s only so many times a guy can get kicked around by cosmic forces before he becomes pretty jaded. “I owe you nothing and I owe Stricken even less. Assuming he wasn’t just lying his ass off as usual, and there is actually a problem, I’ll handle it as I see fit. Now have a nice day, Mr. Coslow. I’m out of here.”
I began walking past him.
“Wait, Mr. Pitt.”
I paused, sighed, then turned around. “Yeah?”
The PUFF Adjuster was giving me a curious look, brow knitted in confusion. “Your involvement was not part of our initial projections concerning this particular situation. Nor is this the first time your presence was an unforeseen variable in one of our calculations. Once again, it appears you are a complication.”
He said the word like it was the most unsavory thing ever. The PUFF Adjuster seemed to be the sort of man . . . wizard . . . entity . . . whatever who really liked to keep things orderly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I do not know yet. Now that you are involved, we will recalculate accordingly before proceeding. The Subcommittee thanks you for your aid.” He popped open his briefcase, reached inside, and pulled out the clear plastic evidence bag with all my stuff in it. “Allow me to return your property.”
I took the bag from him. Sure enough, inside was my pistol, phone, and wallet. It was the same bag that I’d seen on Grant’s desk while I’d been walking out the door a minute ago, except Coslow had already been out here. “How—” Except when I looked back up, Mr. Coslow had simply vanished into thin air. I’d not heard him move, and the nearest car he could have been hiding behind was like twenty feet away, and he didn’t strike me as a sprinter. “Never mind.”
In this job, when things get weird you just have to roll with it, so I hurried up the ramp toward daylight.
* * *
Once I was free of the smoking federal building, I called in and they sent Hertzfeldt to pick me up with the van. The crew hadn’t had any luck catching the shapeshifter. I found out that when Trip had heard my gunshots he had rushed back to help me, but the Feds were already there, so he’d gone after the shapeshifter again. The delay had cost him, so the thief was long gone. Without the big red backpack to spot, Milo and Skippy had come up with zilch. Earl had caught up with Trip and used his werewolf senses to follow her scent for a few more blocks, but lost her in another garage, where she’d either had a backup vehicle stashed, or had hotwired herself a new ride.
The other Hunters had converged at the Atlanta team’s HQ, which was in a nondescript warehouse not too far from the airport. The team room had been the upstairs office, which they’d made into something like a comfy living room, with lots of couches and a ping-pong table. When Hertzfeldt and I walked in, most of the Hunters were sitting around, sullenly trying to figure out their next move. Boone was up front, standing before a great big map of the city, handing out assignments of where we should check next.
Earl wasn’t there. From my Alabama team, Trip Jones, Holly Newcastle, and Milo Anderson were there. Skippy, of course, who was uncomfortable around humans, was off doing Skippy things. The rest of Boone’s team consisted of James Mundy, who’d been an African bush pilot; and a married couple, the Groffs, both of whom had been Marines; their doc, Kathy Sherlock; and of course Gregorius, the crusty old SF vet, whom I’d known since Natchy Bottom. Hertzfeldt was the only Newbie, so it was an experienced crew.
There was a brief laugh at my stupid MCB shirt, but then it got pretty glum again, and then it went back to sulking and drinking all of Boone’s beer. Hunters hate losing. Anybody who was okay with losing would make a terrible Hunter. One tiny girl had made our group of badasses look like a bunch of chumps. There hadn’t been any reptoids to tail back to their hidey-hole, so even though the city was down two of the carnivorous bastards, there were probably a dozen more in their tribe still out there eating hobos. Then I got to make everything worse by telling the others about how the MCB had managed to let the biggest scumbag in the world escape.
After I gave everybody the quick recap of everything I’d witnessed, Gregorius summed up what all of us were feeling by saying, “Those damned idiots. They should have put a bullet in Stricken the second they confirmed it was him.”
The rest of the Hunters all nodded along at that. “I’m kicking myself for not putting a sniper on a roof across the street,” Boone muttered. “We could have just popped Stricken and done the world a favor.”
“We can’t just go around assassinating human beings in the streets,” Trip said. “Even Stricken.”
“Eh . . . Can’t we though?” As usual, Holly was the most morally flexible of us all. She had a heart of gold for those who deserved it, and zero mercy for those who didn’t.
“Franks really wanted to kill Stricken,” I explained. “But there was this weird dude there from the government who wouldn’t let him. MCB and STFU were both deferential to him. Name of Coslow.”
“What?” Boone nearly choked on his beer. “Harold P. Coslow?
“I didn’t catch his middle name, but probably. Stricken called him Harold.”
Boone was downright flabbergasted. “He’s still alive?”
“He looks like he’s a hundred and I didn’t take his pulse, but yeah. Director Cueto said he was a PUFF adjuster, but the other adjusters I’ve dealt with have just been regular government employees. This Coslow guy was weird.” I didn’t like how Boone seemed a little unnerved by that name. Boone was old-school MHI and didn’t shake easy. I looked over at Milo, who’d been around longer than the rest of us; not that Milo was that old, it was just he’d been with MHI since he was a teenager. I was surprised to see that Milo had gotten really pale all of a sudden. And since Milo’s a freckly redhead anyway, that meant he’d gone downright ghostly on us. “What?”
“You didn’t make the Adjuster angry at you? Did you, Z? Because that would be like, super bad.”
“Of course not. I don’t think so. Why would you say that?”
“Well, you’ve kinda got this way of antagonizing people—”
“No. Not me.” I already knew I was an abrasive dick who had problems with authority. “I mean why is everybody scared of this Coslow guy? Stricken offered to tell me, but he probably would’ve just lied anyway. What is Coslow?”
Milo shrugged. “Beats me. But he’s been around a long time.”
“Hell if I know either,” Boone said. “I was a Newbie last time MHI dealt with him. He was the ultimate authority setting bounties on anything unique we caught back in those days, but beyond that, there are some stories about him that are downright unnerving. I don’t think anyone has seen Coslow in decades.”
“I figured he was dead or retired.” Milo seemed to find all this rather exciting. “But in the old days, the rumor was he only showed up on cases where things could get really catastrophic, like some kinda herald of doom. Sam Haven once told me that he thought Coslow was actually a mummy who could suck your soul out through your eye sockets—”
“Then government work sounds like a great fit for him,” Holly interrupted. “Sorry to ruin the speculation, but we need to get back to catching this shape-changing bitch.” Holly was pragmatic like that.
“Yeah, any luck identifying her?” I asked.
“She’s not anyone that’s come up on our radar before,” Boone said. “But if she’s from around here, or especially a new creature in town, she must have come to someone or something’s attention. I was just handing out assignments. We’re going to split up and shake every tree around Atlanta to see what falls out.”
“Peaches, probably,” Milo said helpfully.
Boone sighed. “Somebody has to know who this shapeshifter is. Groffs, you’ve got the gnomes.”
“Aw, come on,” the male Groff groaned. His beard rivaled Milo’s, to the point that he looked like an old-timey sea captain. “Not the gnomes. Those little bastards are the worst. Why us?”
“Because Shannon is the shortest one here,” Boone pointed at the wife of the pair. “And gnomes distrust tall people.”
She was just barely over five feet, so she shrugged. “That’s fair. The gnomes will all be busy pickpocketing and generally screwing around with all the DragonCon people anyway. We’ll take Jones with us. He seems to know his way around that world.”
“I’ll grab my costume,” Trip said, because of course he had packed one, just in case. “I’ve got this really great Captain America . . . You know, because the cops might have my picture from earlier.”
“Sure,” Boone said, obviously not buying that.
“The mask covers the top half of my face,” Trip said.
“Uh-huh. Milo, you still speak gnoll?”
“I only learned a few phrases so I’m not exactly fluent, but I can probably squeak by.”
“Gregorius, take Milo to the dump and visit the gnolls.”
The big man just frowned, then he sighed, because, frankly, gnolls were gross. “Come on, Hertzfeldt. You’re with us.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re the Newbie, I’m too old to crawl through garbage looking for gnolls, and Milo is our guest. Bring your gas mask and rubber boots. Trust me on this one.” Gregorius headed for the door, along the way saying to the new guy, “Are you up on your tetanus shots?”
“Mundy and Sherlock, check all the regular sources around town.” The two of them nodded because every town had its oddball places where monsters and the monster-adjacent types hung out. “I’ll take Newcastle and we’ll see if the APD has had any unsolved crimes that might be explained by a perp who can change faces on the fly. Let’s go.”
“What about me?” I asked.
“Somebody needs to wait for Earl. When he found out his girlfriend was in town and working this case, he wanted to go talk to her about it.”
“I’m glad I’m not there for that conversation.”
“Me too. Earl will need a debrief about what the Feds are up to anyway. In the meantime, call headquarters and see if they’ve ever head of this Drekavac thing Stricken warned you about. Then get cleaned up. You look ridiculous.” Boone just shook his head as he walked toward the stairs. “Bringing MCB swag into my house? That’s downright disrespectful. Why don’t you just take a dump on my carpet while you’re at it?”
“Seriously, man.” Trip said as he left. “That look is a huge step down from Cookie Monster.”
“Okay, I get it already! I’ll burn the stupid MCB shirt. It’s not like I bought it in their gift shop!”
* * *
While I took a shower, I inspected the cuts Coslow had fixed. I wouldn’t call them healed so much as brutally cauterized, and they still hurt like the dickens. Plus from the way my back felt and all the bruises, I don’t think Coslow’s trick did much to help the part where the reptoid had bounced me off the wall. I probably should have had Sherlock check out the new burn scars, but she’d been a regular doctor so this magical crap was probably outside of her wheelhouse anyway. I’d ask Gretchen to take a look when I got home.
As I was drying off, I got a video call from my wife. Whenever one of us was on the job and the other was stuck at home, we always made the time to check in. I put a towel around my waist because she was probably still at the office, and the last thing I wanted was Dorcas looking over her shoulder.
“Hey, hon.” Julie was just as gorgeous as ever. Her long dark hair was currently tied up, meaning that she’d probably been sneaking in some range time. Seeing her always brightened my day. From the pictures on the wall behind her, she was in her office at the compound, so I’d made the right call with the towel. She laughed when she saw how I was dressed. “Did I interrupt your spa time?”
“In my copious free time I figured I’d get a massage. Dealing with the MCB really puts a lot of tension in my shoulders.”
“Uh-huh. Sounds plausible. I already got the quick version from Boone earlier. Are you actually okay, or just doing the tough guy thing where you can’t show weakness in front of other Hunters like usual?”
“I’m actually okay. It was one little fight with a lizard man. It never even had a chance.”
“Sure.” Julie was obviously unconvinced, but she’d been doing this sort of thing a lot longer than I had and was no stranger to all the myriad ways Hunters could get hurt. “How are Grant and Franks?”
“Unlike last time we saw him, Franks has all his limbs attached. Grant’s Grant, so far too handsome yet still bafflingly annoying.”
“Be nice. He tried to help me out for the Europe thing.”
“I know. That’s why I was nice.”
“Really?” Julie was right to be incredulous.
“I was polite and helpful. We even made small talk.”
“I’m so proud of you,” Julie said sarcastically. “That must have been hard.”
“I’d rather fist-fight another reptoid. The Feds are on the warpath though.”
“I heard about Stricken escaping. I’m sorry.”
“Well, maybe next time we’ll get lucky and they’ll forget to confiscate my guns first.”
Julie got it. If all the people who wanted to take Stricken out had to take a number, she’d be further down the list than Franks, Earl, or Heather, but she’d still happily take the shot if given the opportunity. And my wife is an extremely good shot. “I know you need to get back out there, but I’ve got somebody here who wants to say hi.” Julie turned her camera downward to show that my son was crawling up her leg to get onto her lap.
Ray was a happy, chunky, energetic toddler now. His round face lit up when he saw me. “Daddy!”
“Hey, big guy.” It didn’t matter that I’d just gotten my mission derailed and my ass kicked. You always put on a smile for your kid. That’s what dads do.
He started to babble about his day, and I was happy to listen. It was something about Legos.
After Julie had rescued our son, the three of us had gone into hiding for a while. I had needed to recuperate from the Nightmare Realm, and Julie had been a wreck from what she’d gone through getting Ray back. Since Asag had already demonstrated he would go after our families, we’d used fake identities and stayed as far away from the business as we could. It had been a peaceful vacation, but monster hunting was in our blood. And after a few months we’d both gotten incredibly bored and antsy. Since the chaos god we had a beef with had been remarkably silent since Severny Island had gotten nuked, and we couldn’t just sit on our asses hiding forever, we’d gone back to our regular lives. It was hard having that kind of a danger constantly hanging over you like a big angry storm cloud, but we’d adjusted as much as possible.
That looming threat was a good reminder that I needed to get back to work. “Be good for Mom. I’ll be home soon. I love you guys.”
“Love you too,” Julie said. “Be safe.”
Clean and in a fresh change of clothes—thankfully without any MCB two-headed eagles on them—I went back to the team room and found that Earl had just gotten back. He looked grumpy, cigarette dangling from one lip, sitting on Boone’s desk with Trip’s fancy camera in hand, mashing buttons.
“How do you make it so you can see pictures on the screen of this damned thing?”
“Give me that.” I took the camera from him. “You Luddite.”
“Considering I was in my twenties when they invented the television, I think I keep up with technology pretty damn good, kid.”
“Says the guy who still uses a Tommy gun.” Except after saying that it still took me a minute to figure out which knobs brought up which menus. While I played with the camera, Earl angry-smoked. I swear, if the monsters didn’t kill me, the perpetual secondhand lung cancer cloud from my boss would. “Here. Just push the arrows to see the next one or go back.”
He took the camera and began flipping through the pictures Trip had taken during our stakeout.
“Any luck finding Heather?”
“Yep.” He didn’t look up from the screen. “We spoke.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Nope.”
“Okay then.” I flopped onto the couch and waited, because I knew him well enough that he was going to vent about his girlfriend anyway. What can I say? I’m a good listener.
“It pisses me off, Z,” Earl said as he continued to click. “She’s too stubborn to quit Unicorn even though that job keeps trying to kill her. It’s because Heather looks at those monsters like they’re her kids. She’s protective. That whole outfit would probably fall apart if it wasn’t for her.”
Gee whiz, that sounded familiar. Change monster to Hunter, and it was basically Earl’s life story. But I didn’t say anything.
“I get that Unicorn can be a force for good. Hell, when I was stuck there, we saved a lot of lives. We did the nasty things regular soldiers couldn’t. Which makes it worse, because I know the exact kind of shit she gets involved in. It’s hard having your woman disappear for months at a time, because you know she’s probably in some third world country killing terrorists because they decided they wanted to summon demons or open a portal or some other evil nonsense. She keeps saying she’s going to be done, but then it’s one more mission, one more thing where they’re counting on her to save the day.”
“Yeah, I can’t imagine what that would be like.”
“Fair . . . But you know what really grinds my gears this time, Z?”
“She got called up because they had a shot at taking down Stricken, but she kept that secret from you?”
He looked up from the camera and squinted at me. “Good guess.”
I shrugged. Though I preferred door-kicking and face-shooting, I wasn’t a total lummox when it came to this complicated interpersonal crap. “Did you tell Heather that MHI had a line on an actual Ward Stone?”
“Obviously not.”
“Well, there you go. She can’t tell you her top-secret government business, and you can’t tell her MHI business whenever it’s something where the government would screw us if they knew what we were doing. You don’t want to put her in a tough spot. She does the same for you. You respect her, so you’ve got to trust her. She took an oath. She’s not going to break it.”
“Of course not.”
“Then you two really need to work this shit out.”
“We will.” Earl sounded surprisingly certain.
“Good, because it’s inconvenient for the rest of us.” I didn’t add that preferably their solution would mean Heather quitting Unicorn and coming on with us full time, because having another bullet resistant and non-psychotic werewolf around would really kick ass, but I’m selfish like that. “You want my advice?”
“Not particularly.” It was obvious Earl preferred talking about the pertinent business stuff rather than the messy personal stuff. “Enough about Heather. Let’s get back to work.”
“Best idea I’ve heard all day.” I didn’t need to push my luck with the life coaching. It wasn’t like I was good at this either. I’d had one successful relationship in my life and had been pretty much been winging that the whole time.
“We don’t know what kind of creature we’re looking for so we’re just guessing where to look. Problem for us right now is that the MCB really wants that Ward, and so will every powerful monster or whacko cult or wannabe necromancer once word gets out there’s one up for grabs. Not to mention the reptoids have a shaman with magic that actually works, so they’ll be looking for it too.”
“If Stricken’s to be believed, since the Dark Market auction contract has been violated, something called a Drekavac will be after her too.” That name had been a new one on me, but I’d sent a message to Lee to check the archives to see if we had any records on what those were. He hadn’t come up with much yet. “The name means screamer or shrieker, but not like a banshee. More like how an animal howls on the hunt. Folklore pegs it as some kind of cursed undead.”
“Ghost or physical body?”
“Stories go both way, so unsure, but Albert’s working on it.”
Earl gave a resigned sigh because we both knew that when it came to monster capabilities, folklore was wrong more often than it was right. Ideally, we’d find accounts by actual Hunters, because those cut through the myth and bullshit and got down to the nuts and bolts about how to kill things.
“We’ll deal with whatever that is when it shows up, Z. STFU is after her too. Do you have any idea the kind of nefarious spy shit that outfit could accomplish with someone who can change faces on demand? Unicorn’s gonna catch her and make her an offer she can’t refuse. If Heather thinks she’s doing that girl a favor, she’ll find her. Heather’s dogged.”
“Pun intended?”
Earl looked at me like I was stupid. Then he shook his head and went back to the camera. “We’re dealing with something who can change form at doppelganger speed, but with near lycanthrope-level physical abilities. There aren’t many things who can do that . . . ” Earl trailed off. He was staring at one of the pictures. Trip had managed to get some great shots of the girl while she’d been fighting. “Aw, hell.”
“You know what she is?”
“Maybe. Who I’m thinking of is one of a kind, but this does kind of remind me of her. Hang on.” Earl put down his camera and took out his phone. He flipped through the addresses and picked a number that was identified by the initials. J.S. He put his finger to his lips to indicate the need for silence, then put the phone on speaker and set it on Boone’s desk.
A woman picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”
“It’s Earl Harbinger.”
She was quiet for a long time. “It’s been a few years.” There was no polite greeting, no small talk. She had a really pretty voice. It was downright melodic, like a gentle wind through the leaves of a tree, which made it hard to tell her actual mood. “What do you want?”
“I’m really sorry to do this to you. This ain’t a social call. I’ve got a problem with our mutual friends.”
“The ones who gave us our silver tags?”
At first I thought she meant one of the plaques from the memorial wall, but then I remembered that Earl carried one that declared him to be PUFF exempt, and that legally he wasn’t considered a monster who could just be exterminated on sight. Which meant whoever he was talking to also had to be STFU alumni.
“The same.”
“I’ve got nothing to do with them anymore. What did you do to make them mad this time?”
“It ain’t me drawing their ire. Are you currently in Atlanta by any chance?”
“I haven’t been in Atlanta since I saw Bob Marley play at the Fox. And no offense, but I’m not going to tell you where I am in case those people are listening in. I prefer to be left alone.”
“I don’t think they’ve tapped my phone,” Earl said. Since he had shushed me, I didn’t want to interrupt to say that he really was a Luddite, because they didn’t need to tap them anymore. They just collected all the data in the world to scan through at their convenience. Then Earl looked at his phone suspiciously, because even though Heather wouldn’t listen in on his private conversations, her employer certainly would.
“Why on Earth would you think I was in Atlanta? Oh no. My daughter is there.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“What did she do this time?”
“I don’t know if it’s her or not. It could have been someone else who interrupted a deal between monsters and a spy in order to steal an artifact, who knocked out some Feds in the process, and then led my boys on a chase, doing backflips and jumping through windows like some kinda circus performer while changing faces every few minutes.”
There was a long pause. “Kids can be a real pain in the ass.”
“That they can. Have you heard from her lately?”
“She texted me last week. She’s supposed to be working a normal mundane job to pay for her normal mundane education. I warned her not to draw attention.”
“It’s a bit late for that now.”
“She promised me that she’d keep her abilities secret and live like a normal human. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted her . . . Is it really bad?”
“It’s not just them she’s pissed off, but the thing she stole is really valuable to a lot of scary and murderous type beings. They’re all gonna be gunning for her too. And none of them are the sorts to be constrained by concepts like mercy or forgiveness, if you know what I mean.”
“I should have known she’d get in trouble somehow. She’s too proud. She’s just as cocky as her father. She was always the most obstinate little brat, picking fights, causing trouble, but I thought she’d been behaving lately. You have no idea how many times I had to bail her out of jail or beg a judge with tears in my eyes not to send her to juvie. She’s always pushing the limits, Earl. I knew it was just a matter of time before she fell in with a bad crowd and got hurt!”
“Hold on.” Earl tried to reassure the worried mother. “I promised you a long time ago that I would help your family however I could, and I stand by that. I need to find her before they do. Anything you can tell me will help. The presence of the thing she stole, not very many things knew it would be here. Could she have been hired by someone to get it for them?”
“Maybe. I don’t know who though. I’ve done my best to keep her away from that life. I forbid her from associating with Hunters or anything from the other side, but did she listen to me? Of course not! Regular moms have to worry about their daughters experimenting with drugs or dating bad boys, but not me. Oh no. That would be too easy! She never listens. What do I know? I’ve just been dealing with this for hundreds of years. She’s half human so she knows everything! Oh no, Earl . . . What if somebody is using my poor baby?”
I’d watched her poor baby beat up some Feds and leap off of the sky bridge earlier, so I was having a real hard time seeing her as the victim here.
“Stay calm. I’ll do everything I can to find her before they do. Does she have any friends or contacts around here? Anyone she might have mentioned to you?”
“You know how she is. She’s always popular, but never actually close to anyone. She does have a bunch of friends who are into the same music scene though.”
I thought that sounded tenuous as hell, but Earl said, “It’s something. I’m going to give you another number I need you to call. That’s Melvin, my internet troll. He’s squirrely, but really good at his job. He’ll make it so our friends can’t listen in, then you give him every contact of hers you can think of, he’ll get them to me, and I’ll find her. Okay?”
“Promise me you’ll keep my little girl safe, Earl.”
“I’ll do my best.” He hung up, blew out a long breath, then said, “Oh boy.”
“So who, and or what, was that?”
“She’s someone I made a promise to once. She’s a type of yokai.”
“Yeah, I know what that is. But how are you friends with something from some spirit realm? Were you two in Unicorn together?”
“Not together. Different teams, different times. We first met when she was one of my Hunters’ guests at the Christmas Party.”
“The Christmas Party?” Which of course meant the big one, where a grief-stricken Ray Shackleford had been manipulated into opening a portal that had almost sucked Alabama into another dimension, and a ton of people had died as a result. That mess had gotten MHI shut down for years.
Earl nodded. “Did you ever read those old memoirs Albert found in the archives, from a Hunter by the name of Chad Gardenier?”