The Wrath of Pan (The Inglewood Chronicles Book 2) (4 page)

What’s the first thing I did?  I Googled the name of course.  Within the first three hits came the one we were looking for.  I handed Liz my phone with my findings.

“Looks like our girl owns a clothing boutique not far from here.”

She was still reading, her eyes never leaving the phone.  “So it seems.  Her hours of operation are a bit odd for a vampire, closing at five.”

“Could it be this girl isn’t among the fangy?”

Handing me back my phone, “It seems like that is a distinct possibility.  There is only one way to find out.”

“I’ll go get the car and meet you out front.”

As I walked out to the car, this all seemed too easy.  By the time I pulled up and picked Liz up, I was downright paranoid.

“I think this is a set up.”

She laughed at me.  “Of course this is a set up.  Someone like Divas was not going to leave something so obvious out in the open for us to discover unless it was a trap.  Be prepared for anything once we get there.”

DeBondi’s shop was less than five minutes down the road.  When I pulled into the parking spot on the street, I took it all in.  The shop looked just like any other hippie type clothing store you’d see.  Tie-dyed shirts and bell bottoms were hanging in the store display window.

“I remember bell bottoms!  I could really pull those off!”

I gave her a look.  “You can pull off a lot of things Liz, but bell bottoms?  C’mon, those things are ridiculous.”

“This coming from the guy who dresses like Clint Eastwood.  Pardon me if I do not take fashion advice from you.”  She stuck out her tongue and we were off.

When we entered, a bell rang which brought someone from the back.  I did a quick smell test; this girl was human.  No taller than me with blonde hair and bright green eyes, she seemed rather harmless.  This couldn’t be…

“Welcome to my shop,” her accent was very French, “is there anything I can help the two of you with?”

Liz walked over to the counter.  “There is.  We are looking for Rosette DeBondi.  Do you happen to know where we can find her?”

“Of course my lady!  That would be me!”  The girl’s eyes got very bright.

“I hate to be this straightforward, but are you familiar with a Vincente Divas?”

As soon as the question left my mouth, her expression changed.  “I am very busy, so if you are not here…”

Liz slammed her hand on the counter.  “It would be in your best interest to answer the man’s question.”

Those bright green eyes gave us both a hard stare.  For such a young looking girl, her look was that of someone much much older.

“I think it would be best if the two of you abominations left my shop.  I cannot be held responsible for what happens next.”

Pulling out Roscoe, “Is that a threat?  Your buddy Divas made a threat like that to me once and now he’s no longer among the walking and talking.”

Did I over react?  Yeah, I probably did, but I could tell behind that cold stare was a bit of fear.  Call it the bad cop routine if you want; it works.

“Vincente is dead?”

Two things happened.  First, the hard stare was immediately replaced with one of relief, which was odd.  Number two, the French accent was gone.  In fact, it was replaced with a thick Irish brogue.

Liz was equally confused.  “Is Rosette DeBondi even your real name?”

The girl shook her head.  “No, my name is Rosette O’Byrne.  I apologize for the deception.”

“O’Byrne, just like the legend of the witch clan huh?”  Being Irish, my dad would always threaten me and my brother Bernard with stories of the O’Byrne witch clan when we were bad.

Judging on her reaction, I’d hit a sore spot.  Liz immediately went on the defensive.  She pulled out a knife, “A witch, here in Phoenix?”

Rosette put her hands up.  “Peace vampire, I mean ye no harm.  With Divas dead, ye have done me a great favor.”

Watching the scene unfold in front of me, I didn’t know what to do.  I’ve heard of witches, but never met one.  I thought of them more of urban legends or something.  “I don’t mean to be dumb, but I didn’t think witches were a real thing.”

Both girls turned their attention to me.  Rosette looked amused while Liz gave me that ‘are you serious?’ look.  Rosette spoke up first.  “It’s not something we generally broadcast.  There aren’t many witch covens left and most of us would rather be left alone.”

“There is a reason for that.  Most of your kind gets too power hungry for their own good.”

Rosette’s eyes flared at Liz.  “We shall not be judged by a few!  Most of us are quite happy living in the shadows as ye do vampire!”

“You will address me with the respect of my position!  As a witch, you fall under my jurisdiction, just as the werewolves do!”

“Do not compare the witches with those overgrown bags of fur!”

Overgrown bags of fur?  “Hey wait a minute?  Don’t you go dragging my pack into this.”

Forgetting about Liz and her beef with the vampires for a second, “Ye are a werewolf?  How can that be?  My senses pick up blood magic on you.”

“I’m telling you lady; I’m a Red wolf through and through.  Granted, I had a blood transfusion from my lady friend here, but I’m one hundred percent wolf.”

Rosette made her way around the counter and came over to me.  She put her hands on mine and closed her eyes.  “Impossible!”

I pulled my hands away.  “What’re you doing?  And what’s impossible?”

It was like she didn’t even hear me.  Running behind her counter, she grabbed a very old looking book.  Liz walked over to me, looking a bit put off too.

“This is an odd one.  Then again, most witches are a bit off.”

“You’ve run into witches before?”  I looked back over at Rosette, still flipping through her book.  “What’s the deal with ‘em?”

“Witches are humans with power.  They can be killed just as any other human can.  The older a witch grows the more powerful their abilities become.  I have seen witches call fire down from the sky.”  She shuddered as if reliving a bad memory.

“We’re talking some serious firepower then?”

She nodded, her eyes going back to Rosette.  The witch had stopped flipping through the pages and was now reading something.  I peered over to see, but it was in some odd looking language.

“Here it is!”  Not expecting her voice, I jumped a bit.

Liz walked over.  “I am going to regret this, but what is it you have been looking for?”

She was certainly excited.  “As soon as I touched this wolf’s hands, I felt it.  Ye have been touched by an old Irish curse, one that’ll never be broken I’m sorry to say.”

“Lady, I got no idea what you’re talking about.  And quit calling me wolf, my name is Vic.”

“Forgive me.”  She came back around and got uncomfortably close.  “You cannot transform correct?”

Liz reached out and pulled her back a little bit.  “We are here to interrogate you, not the other way around.”

Rosette wasn’t paying attention though.  She just kept staring at me, waiting for the answer.  “No, I can’t transform.”

“The Curse of Oberon is upon ye!  Ancient Irish legend tells of a wolf that will bear the curse yet gain the power of the blood.  Yer destiny is at hand!”

I had no idea what she was talking about.  From the looks of it neither did Liz.  “Witch, can you explain further what it is you are insinuating?”

“The Curse of Oberon was laid upon a pack of Red wolves whom desecrated sacred land to a coven of witches.  The curse has weakened over the centuries, but it was spoken that one would bear the curse and be blessed with the power of blood.”

Liz waved her hand.  “We got that part already.”

“The wolf that comes forth is destined to end the darkness hiding in the shadows.  Tell me vampire that I’m not wrong and that a time of great sorrow is not upon us?”

I looked over at Liz ready for a smart blow off.  My spirits fell when she actually agreed with the nut job.  “It is as you say witch.  A great many odd happenings have occurred.”

“You come here today to seek my knowledge of Vincente Divas, is that not correct?”

Finally, “Yes, that’s right.  We found two plane tickets, one for him and one for you.  How do you know him and why were you going to England with him?”

“Divas is, or was, my sponsor.  He kept me safe; in turn I provided him knowledge and protective spells for his club.  To say I was reluctant to work for him was an understatement, but I had no one else.  My kind is not welcomed with open arms.”

I pulled out the plane ticket.  “What were you two going to do in London?”

“His boss wanted to meet with me.  I guess Divas told him of my services and he was intrigued.  Believe me when I say I didn’t wanna go.”

“I can protect you, as the Ambassador of this territory; I can be a very good ally.”

Rosette nodded at Liz.  “That would be most welcome.”

“A truce then.  The only other piece of information I need is who you were going to meet in London.”

Rosette went back behind the counter.  “I don’t know his name, but here is the letter we received.  He just signed it with his initials.”

She handed the letter to Liz.  I looked over and my eyes went right to the bottom.  In super fancy handwriting there were three letters; T.H.J.

Our eyes met and in unison, “The Hammer of Jehovah.”

We’d dropped the witch off at one of Liz’s safe houses.  Rosette didn’t seem thrilled with being left there, but Liz told her that Reno would be over at sundown and she’d be safe.  I laughed to myself, I wouldn’t exactly say having Reno on protection detail would qualify as safe.

Once away from her and back in the car, I had quite a few things to get off my chest.  “Liz, just what in blue blazes is that witch lady talking about?  What’s the curse and destiny bullshit she’s spewing?”

She was reading the letter that Rosette gave us again.  “I honestly do not know.  The only thing she said I would agree with is that we are suffering from dark times.”

“Dark times?  Is the Apocalypse around the corner or something?”  I’m sure the sarcasm was quite evident.

We were at a red light.  “Look at this letter Victor.  Would you say the author is hoping for sunshine and puppy dogs?”

I took the letter and skimmed over it.  To sum it up for you, the nut job wanted the witch to decipher some old texts that supposedly contained enchantments to unlock some old crypt.  “How do we know he’s not after buried treasure?”

Grabbing the note back from me, “People like this are not after gold, silver, and trinkets!  You know this to be true, especially based on what we experienced with Warren Tucker.”

“Well Tucker did think this Hammer fella was an angel after all.”

“And if someone is calling them self an angel, is meaningless treasure something they would be after?”

I hated it when she made a valid point.  “I doubt it.  Seriously, what could he really be after?  What’s on earth has the kinda power this guy wants?”

“You would be surprised with what certain places in the world are holding in secret.  I have been in the catacombs of the Vatican; the items I saw are not for mortal eyes.”

“The Vatican?”  I started thinking, “Could that be our guy’s target?”

Liz folded the letter in half.  “No, that would be impossible to penetrate and not be noticed.  No, I think our friend the Hammer is looking for a more inconspicuous target.”

Just how many secret vaults were there?  And more importantly, how would we find the one he was after?  I think Liz could read the questions from my mind.  “Vic, the city of London holds many secrets, more than even I know.  Between Pan being free and Divas planning on taking that witch there, this is no coincidence.”

“I guess we should give Rod and Jonathan the heads up huh?”

To my surprise, she shook her head no.  “We will inform them when we get there.  This is sensitive information and needs to be handled as such.”

“You’re the boss and all, but is there something you’re not telling me?”

We pulled into the parking garage of our building.  “We will speak more of this when we get to my office.  Go get yourself something to eat and then come on up.”

When I got back to my apartment, I opened my fridge and found some left over pizza.  The day had flown by and by the time the toaster oven dinged, I was starving.  I popped open a beer and began to relax.  My thoughts drifted back to Full Moon and all my friends there.

A thought hit me!  Michael Browne was staying at my old house and he’d been deeply involved in the church for years.  Grabbing my phone, I dialed up the house line.

“Victor Inglewood’s residence.”

I started to laugh.  “Michael, you don’t need to answer the phone like that.”

“Victor!”  He sounded half surprised but happy to hear my voice.  “How have you been my son?”

“I can’t complain, keeping the streets of Phoenix safe and all that.”

From there we did the normal catching up small talk.  Michael went to Billy’s grave every day and said a prayer for me.  William Winchester, aka Billy the Kid, was my deputy while I was the sheriff of Full Moon.  He was more than a deputy though; he was like a brother to me.  He’d died during the last stand of Warren Tucker.  His passing still bugged me greatly.

“Next time you head over Michael, tell him I miss him and I hope he’s doing alright.”

“I will my son.  Now, what is it that I can do for you?”

Part of the agreement of Michael staying at my house was that he’d act as an outside advisor for me.  He was a former pastor who was very well researched.  “I can’t say much, but I was curious if you are familiar with any religious artifacts or relics that might be considered dangerous?”

“Hmmm…”  He fell silent, but soon I picked up the light noise of pages turning.  “There are quite a few relics I would advise you to be wary of.  Can you tell me any more information that could point me in the right direction?”

How could I word this carefully?  “Something that we might find in England that would be of interest of maybe the late Warren Tucker?”

“That maniac isn’t alive is he?”

“No, no I didn’t mean it like that.  I gave him as an example of some to think like.”

I heard a deep breath.  “Oh thank the Lord.  With that context, let me see here.”

More pages turning.  I could tell Michael was deep in thought with the problem I’d brought to him.  Something told me my friend the Hammer thought very much like old Warren Tucker did.

“There is nothing that strikes me as obvious.  However, I am reluctant to bring up something, but maybe it is of value.”  The tone of his voice was filled with some skepticism.

“What might that be?”

Well,” I heard him grab another book, “this might be a fairy tale or just plain old mad ramblings, but in one of Tucker’s most recent journals, he mentions something called the Scythe of Death.”

“You mean like the Grim Reaper?”

“Exactly like that.  As I read it, he says his master may have discovered the resting place of the Scythe; he doesn’t give a location at all, but suggests it’s not in America.  The journal also says the place is blocked off by strange enchantments.”

My mouth dropped open.  “Did you say strange enchantments?”

“If I am deciphering this correctly, then yes.  It may also translate into spells, but I think enchantments are correct.”  He then laughed, “But this is all nonsense, I mean next you’ll be telling me witches and warlocks are involved.”

Michael may’ve been joking, but the facts lined up a little too nicely.  “Michael, I need you to destroy that journal.  Anything that talks about Death’s Scythe or strange enchantments, burn it.”

“Victor, is everything okay?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll certainly keep you posted.  As you destroy those journals, if anything pops up that’s really weird, call me first.”

He agreed and we parted on that note.  Puzzle pieces were falling into the mystery but we were not even close to figuring out how they fit together.  I left my apartment and made my way up to Liz’s office.  I wondered what her take would be.

When I got close, I heard her on the phone.  That wasn’t a surprise since I have excellent hearing, but I caught my name right away.

“Cristof, something does not feel right about this.  Victor’s passport should have been here weeks ago.  What is the point of having one of ours in there to speed the process along if it only ends up taking longer?”

I leaned in closer, trying to pick up Cristof’s voice.  Straining, “I know Elizabeth, this is all too suspicious.  I will look farther into this and call you with a resolution.”

“Good, I would hate to have to go myself.  I am not as diplomatic as you.  Now if you will excuse me, I have a very curious werewolf to deal with.”

Busted.  Oh well, what’s the point of having great powers if you don’t use them.  I walked into her office as she was hanging up.  “Sorry boss.”

Her smile told me she wasn’t mad.  “I take it you now know why I am so frustrated over your passport being here?”

“I didn’t know you had people inside the government.”

“We have been here for years!”  She got out of her chair and came around the desk.  After a quick kiss, “It would be quite the pain if we had to depend on humans not noticing we do not age and all that.”

She made a fair point.  “Well, with that in mind, I have some things to share.”

“I figured as much.  Normally you take a good hour or so to eat and here you are thirty minutes after we parted.”

“I think I have some more pieces to this whole thing.  I called Michael Browne on a whim.”

Liz really liked him, so her face broke into a smile.  “How is the good pastor doing these days?”

“He’s doing well.  He goes over to Billy’s for me; you know just to keep him in the loop.”

The smile fell off.  “The next time we make a trip out there, I would like to pay my respects to young William.  He always made me smile.”

I wanted to be sad, but I didn’t have time.  “Have you ever heard of something called the Scythe of Death?”

She raised an eyebrow.  “It is an old tale, a legend that swirled around a long time ago.  Why do you ask?”

“Apparently,” I continued, “in one of Tucker’s journals, he mentions his master may have found it.  It doesn’t say where, only that enchantments were blocking the way.”

Like I had been, she seemed taken aback by that.  “It seems our enemies have been busy.  Call Reno and tell him to bring the witch here on the double.  Time is no longer on our side.”