Deadly Curiosities (13 page)

Everything seemed to happen at once. Sorren motioned for the dark-haired man to throw him his sword, catching it like an expert. The vampire then lunged toward the demon, striking it through the spine with the sword as the woman sent another searing wave of light. The dark-haired man raised his hands. For a few seconds, nothing seemed to happen, as the woman struggled to keep up the barrage of light and Sorren kept stabbing the demon with his sword.
From a cistern in the courtyard, a tide of water rose, then split into thick tendrils. The tendrils snaked toward the demon, moving rapidly. The woman was chanting now, words I did not understand. Sorren thrust his sword one more time and leapt free as the water tendrils smashed into the shrieking creature.
Its smooth skin had been burned away by the woman’s magic, and it was bleeding from dozens of gashes where Sorren had done damage with his sword.
Scorched by fire, bound by water, the demon screamed its fury. As the woman’s chant grew more insistent, the demon began to tremble, its remaining skin splitting and peeling away, until the creature suddenly exploded into a rain of gobbets that sizzled against the water and burned where they hit exposed flesh.
Abruptly, the vision ended, and I collapsed against the bookshelf, still clutching the watch in my hands.

I had no idea how long my vision had lasted. Only minutes, probably, though I felt as if it had gone on forever. My hands were shaking as I replaced the pocket watch on the shelf. I hugged myself, trying to get warm.

I wasn’t sure who the woman was, but Sorren had told me stories about Dante and his friend Coltt, his partners from long ago. I had never seen Sorren fight like that, and the utter ruthlessness in his eyes gave me pause, though I reminded myself he had saved his human comrades.

But now I had a name for the power behind the corrupted objects and the shadow men. I recognized the feel of the magic as soon as I saw the hideous shape of the creature in the vision. The same feel and taste of the magic I had from the Foo dog. And while the evil behind the dangerous magic we faced had not yet shown its face, I knew what to call it. “Holy hell,” I muttered. “We’ve got a demon on our hands.”

W
HEN EVENING CAME
, I closed the shop, and Teag and I went down the street to Jocko’s Pizzeria, run by Giacomo Rossi, ‘Jack’ to his friends.

“Cassidy! Teag! Long time no see!” Jack Rossi stood behind the counter. He wore an apron that was smudged with flour and olive oil. There was even a dusting in his dark black hair.

“Hi Jack!” I replied. As always, Jocko’s smelled of fresh tomatoes, basil, and cheese, along with the scent of a wood fire and baking crusts. It was a little bit of Italy near the heart of Charleston, and one of my favorite places for a quick bite to eat.

“You want the usual?” Jack asked, spinning a crust as he talked. Jack was in his late forties, with a touch of gray in his temples that couldn’t be blamed on flour.

“Sure,” I replied, and my stomach growled just thinking about it. Teag and I probably stopped in to Jocko’s at least once a week, sometimes more. I breathed deeply, relaxing into my chair and allowing the familiar, comforting smells to ease away the tension of the day.

The walls of the restaurant featured a hand-painted mural in vibrant colors, telling the story of the Rossi family’s history and Jack’s journey from New York to Charleston. Jack’s portion of the mural began with the World Trade Center as the towers had once stood, tall and proud. Jack had been a stock trader in the North tower on September 11, 2001. He had been one of the lucky ones, and within a year he had resigned from the brokerage business, moved to Charleston and opened up Jocko’s, a move that left him more time to spend with family.

Jack brought out a pale ale for Teag and a glass of red wine for me. It was Wednesday evening, and the restaurant was quieter than usual. “How’s the shop?” Jack asked, returning with plates and silverware.

“Doing well,” I answered. “Thanks for asking.” “Hey Jack,” Teag said. “Do you have any of your world-famous antipasto tonight?”

Jack shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t get my shipment this week. So no artisan-cured salami and none of the specialty marinated Kalamata olives you love.”

“Damn,” Teag replied, brushing his lank hair out of his eyes. “What happened? Did New Yorkers suddenly get peckish?”

Jack dusted off his hands. “Unfortunately not. Police found a dead guy behind the specialty food warehouse, and they closed down the whole place until they figure out what happened.”

I sipped my wine. “Was it a robbery?”

Jack shrugged. “Dunno. My guy at the warehouse says the police have been cagy about the details.

Made him wonder if it might be gang-related or something like that.” He shook his head. “I heard whoever did it made a real mess of things.”

“Was the dead man someone who worked at the warehouse?” Teag asked.

Jack shook his head. “No idea. The warehouse is over by the abandoned Navy yard. The whole area is a little down on its luck, gets a lot of vagrants. ”

Jack brought the pizza, and stood by like a proud papa as Teag and I praised his work. He went back to the kitchen while Teag and I dug into our meal.

I checked my phone for messages. There were none, but I glanced at the time. “Oops! We’d better get back to the shop.”

“Inventory?” Jack asked, bringing a small box for leftovers.

“Out of town supplier,” I replied. Sorren kept a low profile in Charleston out of necessity. It wouldn’t do for people to notice that he never seemed to age. His involvement with the store was something known to only a few trusted associates.

“Well, send your supplier this way and I’ll make sure he gets the royal treatment,” Jack promised. “Anything for a friend of yours.”

“He usually eats before he comes by the shop, but I’ll let him know you offered,” I said. That was true.

Sorren always made sure he had fed before visiting Trifles and Folly. How he fed, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

We got back to the store just as I heard the bells of St. Michael’s church toll nine times. Before the echo of the ninth ring had faded, a voice startled me.

“Nice to see you again, Cassidy.”

Even though I was expecting him, I jumped. “I swear I locked all the doors,” I said, one hand over my thudding heart.

Sorren grinned. “You did. And you’ve invited me inside in the past. Don’t forget, I was once the best jewel thief in all of Belgium, and I do have a key.”

Sorren looked to be in his twenties, but I knew for a fact he was turned in the late 1400s. His hair was an unremarkable shade of blond, with features that were pleasant enough without being noteworthy; something Sorren told me had been a good thing back in his days as a master thief. But his blue-gray eyes always captured my attention, eyes the color of the sea before a storm. And while most mortals would do well to avoid making eye contact with a vampire for risk of being compelled to do their will, apparently I had the immunity to compulsion that seemed to run in my family.

“Nice to see you, too,” I said, catching my breath. I double checked the lock on the door then led the way to the back room. Teag emerged from the stock room with a wave.

“I got your message,” I said, sitting down at the table. “And your warning. So I’m curious about your news, because, boy oh boy, do we have news for you.”

Tonight, Sorren was dressed in khaki slacks, a casual collared shirt and Sperry’s without socks. Nothing about his appearance would have drawn a second glance from anyone who met him on the street. A slight flush to his skin told me that he had fed before visiting.

On some visits, when there were no pressing problems, we had gotten Sorren to talk about the centuries he had survived. Talking to someone who had personally experienced most of the last six hundred years was a dream come true for history geeks. But with everything that was going on, I was sadly certain that tales of the old days would have to wait for another time.

“Something is very wrong,” Sorren said. “There have been some odd spikes in supernatural activity around the Charleston area. The last time we saw these kind of energy fluctuations –”

“It was a demon,” I finished for him. He looked at me, surprised.

“Yes,” he replied. “It was.”

Sorren had a network of informants that would put government or law enforcement intelligence to shame. Although his visits to Charleston were sporadic, he always arrived knowing more about what was going on in the dark corners of the city than we did.

“Could those surges – and a demon – cause slightly haunted objects to suddenly turn malicious, and set nasty things wandering… say, shadow creatures?” I asked.

Sorren looked worried. “Yes to both. I think you’d better tell me your news.”

We took turns filling Sorren in, first on the unfortunate incident at the Academy Theater, and then on the eventful night at Gardenia Landing.

“We traced the history of the items as best as we could,” I said. “The pieces all have some tragedy associated with them, but none of the former owners will admit to knowing that the items were haunted or even unsettling.” I turned my palms up in a gesture of resignation. “We haven’t found the common thread.”

Sorren had listened intently. Now, he began to pace. “My contacts believe the spikes in supernatural energy near Charleston have something to do with a series of murders. That would also be consistent with demonic activity. The question is, how did the demon get loose, and what does the person who summoned it want?”

I thought about the death near the warehouse that Jack had mentioned, and the ring that had arrived in the box. Teag brought the box out to show Sorren, and he handled the bloody ring gingerly.

“I think this was sent as a warning,” Sorren said. “Someone’s aware of your gift, Cassidy, and whoever it is, is trying to make sure you don’t get involved.”

I met his gaze. “Do you have any idea who’s behind this?”

Sorren hesitated. “Maybe. But if I’m right, he’s someone who should be dead.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Death isn’t permanent for everyone.”

He nodded. “For some more than others. And in this case, I was certain that we had been able to destroy him.”

“Destroy who?” Teag asked.

“He goes by the name of Corban Moran,” Sorren replied. “You might think of him as an arms dealer, only he deals in dangerous magical objects, not guns and bombs. He’s rogue, so he’s not really part of any group, but more often than not, his ventures align with whatever the Family is up to.”

The Alliance tried to get malicious supernatural objects off the market. The Family did their best to get their hands on dark magic artifacts and use them to further their own purposes. Both groups recruited immortals and mortals in a worldwide network that was off the grid of conventional security agencies. It was like a paranormal arms race, with the world up for grabs.

Teag had grabbed his laptop, and he was already delving deep into the Darke Web to see what he could find.

“You thought Moran was dead,” I said. “Why?”

Sorren leaned back in his chair. “Because I killed him, or at least I thought I did.”

He ran a hand back through his hair. “It’s probably easier to show you than to tell you,” he said, and withdrew an envelope from his pocket. Inside was a photograph of a man and a woman.

The man was tall and thin, with a build that could well be the man I’d glimpsed following us. If so, then time had not been kind to him. The picture looked to be about ten years old, but the man’s face was very different from the wrinkled, withered skin of our stalker. Moran had an intelligent look to him, though his features were not striking, except for the utter coldness of his dark eyes. I glanced at the woman who stood next to him. I didn’t think I’d want to meet her. She had the same cold look to her as Moran, but there was something in her expression that made me think she enjoyed her work a little too much.

From the same envelope, Sorren withdrew a charred button that looked like it came from a man’s coat. “Take it,” he said.

Drawing a deep breath to steady myself, I let Sorren drop the button into my outstretched hand. The vision took hold immediately.

I was in the mechanical room of an old building, and from the signs in English and French, my bet was somewhere in Canada. Large boilers, dark with age, filled the space amid brick pillars and twisting pipes.
The whole place stank of dark magic, and the air crackled with power. I spotted Sorren in the dim light.
He was dressed in a dark sweater and jeans, blending into the darkness.
“The building is warded. You can’t get out,” Sorren shouted into the shadows.
“You’re assuming I need to leave the way I came in.” Corban Moran stepped out from behind one of the brick pillars. In his right hand was a box made of human bones, decorated with yellowed teeth. In his left hand was a wizard’s staff of twisted and gnarled willow.
Sorren lunged for him, but Moran was faster. He leveled his staff at Sorren and an invisible force sent the vampire sprawling. In the same instant, Moran spoke a word of power and fire erupted from the box in his right hand, splintering the bone box and shooting up toward the old wooden beams in the ceiling.
Sorren climbed to his feet, and Moran’s staff blasted one of the boilers, sending scalding water flying and shaking the foundations of the building. Sorren rushed at him, and two more boilers exploded. The

beams in the ceiling were beginning to catch fire and the blasts had jarred the brick columns enough that some had begun to collapse.
Moran was chanting a guttural litany, and as Sorren ran at him once more, the flames surrounded Moran without burning him. As I watched, a figure appeared in the flames, and while it was not exactly like the monster I had glimpsed in the vision with the pocket watch, I had no doubt that this creature was some kind of demon.
Sorren threw an object that looked like a crystal orb into the heart of the fire. There was a blinding flare of light and a burst of energy from within the flames, sending out a halo of fire and splintered glass.
Inside the column of fire, Moran began to writhe.
With a deafening, thunderous roar, Moran disappeared and the ceiling came crashing down.