At the Behest of the Dead (10 page)

I had to bring out a vial of see-all and apply a smear to each eye. The world came into view
, like I was staring through really amazing night vision goggles. Then I was walking through a weird backwards world, or so my corneas informed me.

I came across great swathes of dust and
upturned debris where something large had walked over this area many times.

There was a scent in the air that reminded me of a wet animal. I sniffed at it and followed. The passageway wound one way and then the other
, and after a few more twists and turns over rubble and choked side passages, I came across something that took my breath away. It was a hole into the cusp.

I’ve mentioned the cusp before. It’s the thing that separa
tes your world from the other. From the world you think you want to know about but, trust me, you don’t. After the cusp there are seven wards. That’s nothing new. Dante spoke of them centuries ago. There are a few schools of thought on his accuracy, but most think he wandered too close and possibly had some hallucinogens working in his favor. Mushrooms and other components are not the sole domain of the modern day drug user.

The cusp is power, but it is also a prison. You can really think of it as hell. We witches and
warlocks are able to touch that side for brief moments of time and channel the power for our own needs.

I turned another debris laden corner and stepped under a low hanging roof that was sinking into the ground. Inside
, I found another break in the wall and there, much to my surprise, was a blood-mire

A blood-mire is, in its simplest form, a linking of plasma to the other side of the cusp and they were insanely rare. How one ended up here was something I should
have taken straight to Salazar.

I gasped out loud then stifled it with a grimace. When nothing leapt from a corner and tore me to shreds
, I figured I was safe for now. Stepping under the broken wall then near the bubbling patch of red, I sighed with ecstasy as the smell washed over me.

The first thing I did was
extract a spare vial from my belt and lean over to fill it. The blood was cold, which meant it was old and dying, but it would come in handy in future potions.

I walked into it, robes held high
, and waited.

Chapter Five

K
nee deep in a blood-mire, I hid between two buildings that were at least a hundred years old and covered in dust, mites, and spiders. My legs were going weak because I’d been here for an hour. I wanted to fall over, drop shaking to the ground, and just rest. Then I heard the sound again and I hoped it wasn’t Detective Andrews trying to sneak up on me.

Glamo
ured to the gills, the glyphs pulsed against my skin with the beat of my heart. The shield was warm against my chest and the glyph I’d readied still throbbed in front of my eyes.

The snuffling continued
, and I took the same vial I had used earlier and extracted another dose of the demon spoor. The potion worked to hide my scent, and the smell of the mire would help confuse the animal. The two together, with any luck, would keep me safe until I could sneak up on the beast.

I would need something powerful if the changer came at me in its form. I went by memory and extracted a bottle that was good for at least one very
short term fireball. No sense in burning down the city, again. I held the potion up before me and, with my thumb and forefinger, slid the little cork stopper out.  Only the thing slipped out of my grip and hit the edge of the bloody patch and bounced for an eternity across the old paved road now gone to waste.

Oh c
rap!

There was a flash in the dark, just on the edge of my perception. I could sense a shape that was huge and hulking.

The thing was much smarter than I gave it credit for. It faded from one shadow to the next on the ledge above then dropped with a thump behind me. I turned slowly, fearful of what I would see.

I would like to say that the thing wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be
. That it was a smaller version of the creature I had suspected. I’d like to say it was just a man with knives in the night, seeking out victims for some mindless violence.

It was none of those things.

The shape rose before my eyes, a hulking form of shaggy fur and bristling claws. The head was elongated like that of a large dog. Its nose snuffled and tested the air as it looked for me, and I realized that the glyphs and potion were keeping me hidden.

It was a full-blown werewolf in the depths of transformation and it looked really pissed.

I didn’t move, didn’t breathe. The beast towered over me at seven and a half feet. Its snout tested the air again as it slid one massive foot forward. Its claws were easily five or six inches long and they dripped fresh blood.

The werewolf stepped toward me.
A vial’s little lead cap flew through the air, over his head, and hit the wall to his side.

He spun around and I tossed the contents of the vial at him. Words wove through the air as I forced the liquid to action. A burst of flame caught it unawares and rushed past its head, sing
eing its hair. There was a little bit more of the stuff in the vial so I hurled it as well while the werewolf backed away in fear.

Then it did something I
did not expect. It dropped low as the flame passed over its head and then sprang up and into the air. It was a calculated move that was not normal for something in the throes of transformation. A thing that is all animal needed to kill, hunt, hide, and turn again. It wasn’t even a full moon for Gaia’s sake.

I shook out the rema
ins of the vial I’d accelerated with the spell and fell backwards into a roll that put me on my feet a couple of feet away. Blood from the mire splattered the walls and floor in obscene patterns.

Then I did a little repeat of the night before.
I ran.

The bottle hit a
barrier and went up in an explosion that shook everything around me. An ocean of dust swept off the walls and ceiling. I was drowning in the stuff. I heard a wall or two go down and wondered how bad it would affect property values. The smell was cloying. Dust and spent brimstone made me want to grind my teeth together and bite off my tongue.

I dashed
through the crack in the wall I had worked my way under just in time to escape the werewolf’s claws. Between the pounding of my heart in my chest and the rush of blood, I also heard my robe tear. I left behind part of the black fabric and fled down another hallway.

The spirit that helped me earlier stood in the middle of the corridor between the buildings and tried to move out of my way.
Too late. I dashed through it and kept going. There was a rending crash behind me and I felt more than heard the beast tear through. The rest of the walls were going to fall.

When I rounded the last corner
, I was panting for breath. The beast was close behind so I slid to a stop, turned to face the beast, and released the glyph I had prepared earlier. One moment it wasn’t there then the shape seared the air as it appeared.

It turned bright orange as it
streaked toward the werewolf. The shape was like a pentagram with ragged edges that expanded as it touched the air.

The beast dove to the side at the last second and the glyph sailed past to plaster itself all over the wall. Where it touched matter
, the razor sharp edges vibrated and tore into it with a rending that sounded like metal squealing against metal.

The wolf was hit by a trailing edge that ripped away a line of fur. It howled in pain as it lost a huge chunk of skin. The beast whimpered like a dog, spinning in circles on all fours
, trying to get a look at its back.

Then it was on its feet and coming at me again.

“Phhhinneassss” it growled.

The fact that it managed a word wasn’t the shocking part. How in the hells did it know my name?
I was called in by the good detective with little warning. How could it know I might be here? Something stunk and it wasn’t just the dust and burned out buildings.

I strode around another corner and it was right there, about to leap. I could swear I felt his breath on my neck, his slobber waiting to drip into my hair.

I ducked and rolled just as it leapt. It sailed overhead, but I was back on my feet in a split second thanks to a ridiculous amount of adrenaline pounding in my veins. I prepared the shield for a full attack by channeling a little bit of power. It went ice cold against my chest then heat boomed through the piece and surrounded my body in a cloak of energy that would hopefully deflect the beast. The price of this protection was my blood as the edges contracted and dug into my skin. I gritted my teeth and thought of the bright side. Me living longer.

Sudden booming shook the concrete around m
e. The werewolf had been in mid-leap when the detective opened up. The first slug caught the beast in the shoulder and threw it to the side. The next shot missed but the one after that took it through the back and punched through its chest.

The railing
was only about fifteen feet away and, sure enough, there was Andrews in the classic stance, feet spread, arms extended, two-handed grip. She blew a puff of hair out of her fierce eyes and fired again.

I jumped to my feet and sped off in pu
rsuit, black robes a twirl and threatening to wrap around me if I did any more acrobatics tonight.

The creature
let out a howl of pain, but I doubted the bullet had done real damage. The problem was that some changers were enhanced so that they healed quickly. Werewolves were an aberration of nature, a reorganizing of cells and DNA that went back centuries. Someone had created them as the perfect killing machine, and now one knew my name.

Their ability to heal quickly was not a legend at all. The way they formed had something to do with it. Frank said that if he
was hurt in his hawk form, he would come out of it with the same injury. Wolves didn’t have that problem. They could take massive amounts of damage and most of it would heal. It was no different than changing into another shape. The wounds just changed into regular skin and tissue.

We had to get to it and stop it while we had time. It was true that silver was harmful to them
, but the thing that would kill them quickest was a little something that I had in a vial.

I climbed up onto the rai
ling with the detective’s help. She pulled me up, for which I was grateful. My arms were weak, my legs shaking, and I was breathing like a long distance runner. The truth was that I was still very sore from all of the running and the little dip in the river the night before. Tomorrow I probably wouldn’t be able to get out of bed without a healthy dose of Ibuprofen. I crawled to my feet and looked at Andrews, who was staring over her gun.

“Shit, now I have to fill out a report. How the hell am I going to do that
, Phineas? A wolf-man? I don’t know what will be worse, the paper work or the laughter.”

“I can tell you that I, for one, appreciate it.” And I did. No telling what the fight would have degenerated into if she hadn’t opened up when she did.

I moved off in the direction the beast had gone. It was easy to follow the trail of dust. Besides, there was no sense in standing around and getting cozy, slapping each other on the back for the fine job we had yet to do.

I ran up the stairs in pursuit. The
re was a steady trail of blood. Splatters that stood out on the wooden walkway like a calling card. The detective was right on my heels, threating to overtake me. Wonderful. She was a pill addict and was still in better shape than me.

After an eternity of huffing and puffing, legs on fi
re, feet encased in boots and screeching at the abuse, I reached the entrance to the Seattle Underground. The door had been damaged when the detective forced it open. Now it was in splinters. I took a few seconds to gather a spell, using my concentration to cover the fact that I needed a few seconds of rest.

I expected Andrews to
look worse for wear but she didn’t. In fact she was flushed with excitement.

I took a couple of deep breaths. She moved to my side and reached out to inspect my robe
, which was now torn in several places.

“You a
ll right?”

“Never better. I don’t know how you did all that crazy stuff but I am impressed
, Phineas.” She grinned like a lunatic.

“Score one for the good guys.”

“I’m not easily impressed.”

“Yeah? Does that mean I’m going to get some kind of personal medal?”

“Probably not on my watch, but I might buy you a drink.”

“A drink? That’s a good start.”

“And it will be a good enough finish.”

“Do you always decide when to finish?”

She smiled but turned away and moved to the door. What was left of it hung by one hinge and sheer determination. I stepped across the threshold and was greeted by screams all around as the beast indiscriminately tore into anyone that got in its way.  I had never seen a changer so angry.