Play Dead (34 page)
“Precisely. Now, Jessica couldn’t do it on her own, not directly—her political ideas are well-known, and if she were to do such a thing, the entire practitioner community would turn against her. She might achieve her objective, to out us all, but it wouldn’t be very good for her personally.”
“Of course,” I said. “But if Jackie were to steal the book and go off on her own, Jessie would be in the clear. But Jackie’s her daughter—people would still suspect she was involved. But not if she could point to the fact she was so worried that she actually hired outside help to prevent it from happening—me. Only, I couldn’t be allowed to actually track her down.”
Victor was looking disgusted, whether about Jessie or about the fact we’d all been conned, I couldn’t tell.
“But you did find her,” he said. “That threw a wrench in the works.”
“To tell the truth I never expected Mason to get close that quickly,” Jessie said. “I gave out too much information, and he turned out to be cleverer than I thought.”
“Was Jackie in on all this, or were you playing her as well?” I asked.
“No, she was a more than willing helper. But she didn’t care one way or the other if practitioners were outed—she had her own plans, obviously. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell of her succeeding, but I underestimated the dangers. So no, I wasn’t playing her. Quite the opposite, as it turns out.”
“And all this other stuff we came up with, about you trying to recruit Mason to your side or turning him against Victor, was just a cover?” Sherwood asked.
“Not entirely,” Jessie said, “I knew suspicions would arise eventually, when things started to get weird, so I did want him on my side. And if nothing else, it did provide a distraction. The more stuff you have going on, the more threads you can toss out; the more layers you have, the harder it is to see what’s really going on. Victor knows that.”
“And here I thought I had you conned,” I said. She gave me a weary smile.
“You were quite good, actually. If I’d really been interested in co-opting you, I would have bought your entire act.”
“So how did this get so out of hand? Weren’t you aware of the dangers?”
“It would have worked. But then something unforeseen happened. She ran into this Malcolm. When he appeared on the scene and Jackie found that second book, everything changed. The first book could only cause trouble; the second is as dangerous as a nuclear bomb. Trust me, I’ve done years of research on this.”
“Those headaches?” Eli said.
“Yes, and they’re just the tip of the iceberg. They’re going to get worse, much worse. And eventually ...”
“We know that,” Eli said. “So we’ve got to find Jackie, and soon. You’re on our side, then?”
“I’m not on anyone’s side. But you’re right, she has to be stopped, and I can’t find her. Maybe you can.” She looked at me. “You managed it before, after all.”
“One more thing,” Sherwood said. “Things slipping through into our world every time Jackie uses the book. This last one knocked us silly—why hasn’t anyone noticed anything yet?”
“Give it time,” Jessie said, grimly. “Watch the morning news, for starters.”
“If we’re not all dead by then,” I said.
“We have more time than that. That last one she tried must have taken a lot out of her. She’ll need time to recover. And if she’s planning a big finish, she’ll want to prepare carefully. In the meantime, I’ve got all my people out looking for her, and I suggest you do the same.”
She got up abruptly, apparently deciding she’d had enough of talking for one day. Without another word she left the kitchen and headed for the front door.
“Always a pleasure,” Victor called after her. “Drop by anytime.”
TWENTY
JESSIE PROVED TO BE RIGHT; MORNING CAME and we were all still alive and kicking. I turned on the early-morning news and she was right again. A very serious newsman dispensed with the usual chat and got right to the main story.
A wave of unexplained deaths has struck the Bay Area, leaving grieving relatives and unanswered questions. Since only this morning, five people in the Richmond District, two men and three women, all apparently young and healthy, have died suddenly for no apparent reason. At this time, foul play is not suspected, but police and medical professionals are baffled. One paramedic, who did not wish to talk on camera, said one victim he treated appeared to be a very old man despite identification to the contrary.
There were a couple of interviews, one with an epidemiologist about possible links between the victims, and the standard reassurance there was nothing for the general public to worry about. Sure there wasn’t.
More Shadow Men. One had already slipped through, and this sounded like a lot more of them were now out and about. I reached for the phone to call Victor, but then another story came on. This one was a puff piece, with smiles all around. A young couple, also in the Richmond, was claiming their house was haunted. They’d been woken up, their story went, by what they thought was an earthquake. There was a camera shot of cans lying all over the floor in the pantry.
Then they heard a horrific rending sound, like a thin sheet of metal being torn like cardboard, and at the same time, a gust of cold air swept through the house. The news anchor, grinning, pointed out this was San Francisco, after all.
Their two dogs, border collies, went berserk and frantically clawed at the front door, trying to get out. Fearing the house might collapse, the couple got out themselves, and afterward the dogs refused to go back in. One of them, described as “the gentlest dog in the world,” bit his owner when the man tried to force him back inside.
Then, when the man glanced in through the front window, he swore he saw shadowy shapes moving around inside the house. Thoroughly spooked, the couple decided to spend the night at a friend’s house—a decision that probably saved their lives.
Their house was on Clement Street, and although naturally the exact address wasn’t given, it wouldn’t be too hard to find. Once near, Lou could focus in on any dimensional rift like a homing pigeon.
Victor called almost before the segment was over.
“Did you catch the morning news?” he asked.
“I did.”
“Shadow Men?”
“What else? And did you see the other story, the one about the house?”
“Yes. A haunted house. Very cute.”
“You think that’s where they came in?”
“Must be. We need to get down there.”
“What for?” I said. “It’s not like we can do anything about it. Unless you’ve learned how to repair rips in the fabric of reality since last night.”
“Remember what you said about the Shadow Men? How they’re weak in daytime, strong at night?”
“ So?”
“So they’ll need to have a place to hole up. And what better place than right where they came through the rip? They might even be hanging out there hoping to get back in for all we know. In any case, we need to do something about it before any more people die, and it’s a place to start.”
“And how do we accomplish that? Remember, talent won’t work on them, and although that stun gun works fine, it won’t kill them. And we’d have to get close enough to touch them with it, and if there are a lot of them ...”
“I know. Come on over, and bring Lou.” As if I would be leaving him at home. “And bring that sword I lent you. You’re going to need it.”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER I WAS SITTING IN VICTOR’S study. He’d already pulled a lot of magical props out of the safe: crystals, copper dishes, salt—the usual stuff. Another sword was lying on a cloth at one end of them, and he motioned for me to put my sword next to it.
“Where’s Eli?” I asked.
“Doing research.”
“Sherwood?”
“Tracking down a lead.”
“So it’s the two of us, then?”
“We should be able to handle it. If it were night, it might be a different story, but daytime will even out the odds.” He busied himself arranging the objects he’d assembled.
“Swords?” I asked. “Why not one of your handy automatic weapons? You could cut them in half with one.”
“Too noisy. Wouldn’t have a lasting effect, anyway.”
“I don’t think these swords are the answer. They won’t affect the Shadow Men much, either,” I said. “Even if you spell them—if it were that easy, we could just directly use talent to stop them.”
“But you’re forgetting something.” He held up the paper bag I’d brought back with the residue from the original Shadow Man attack. “We have this.” He leaned over and pointed at Lou. “And we have Lou. Ifrits can affect them.”
He fired up a Bunsen burner and slid it under a stand that held a copper dish. Bits of charcoal went in, a pinch of salt, a few drops of liquid from various vials, and the dirt mixture from the paper bag. Finally he took a large bottle and drizzled in what looked like olive oil, as if he were preparing a salad. While the mixture bubbled, he took a couple of strong magnets and used them to enable a simple attraction spell over the sword blades. He turned up the flame on the burner until the oil mixture began to burn and smoke.
“Can you run some energy through Lou?” he asked. “We need a bit of his essence blended into the mixture.”
I’d done this enough times in the past so that it was now second nature. When I sent the surge of magical energy through Lou he reacted by immediately going into a sneezing fit, also par for the course. I don’t know why it always affects him that way. As the energy flowed through him, I directed it into the mixture, which was now furiously smoking.
“Done,” I said, and Victor picked up the swords and waved them in a circular motion through the smoke.
The combination of the oily smoke and the attraction spell Victor had created worked like a charm. Instantly both blades became coated with a sooty residue, turning them almost black. Victor laid them back on the cloth, clapped a lid on the copper dish, and turned off the burner.
“That should do it,” he said. “With Lou’s Ifrit essence bonded to that Shadow Man’s residue, these blades will have a deadly effect on them.”
“Won’t that smoke ruin the blades?”
“No. It’s not very good for them, but they’ll still do the trick.”
He sheathed both blades, handed me mine, and strapped on the little fanny pack, stuffed with useful items that he carries on all of his missions.
“Whose car?” I asked. He thought a moment.
“We’ll take your van. We’ll need to be inconspicuous, and the Beemer sometimes draws attention.”
Like the van wouldn’t. But if things got heavy, at least he wouldn’t end up with blood on his pristine upholstery.
“LOOK FOR SOMETHING OUT OF PLACE,” I TOLD Lou as we drove down Clement Street. “Like the pool under the bridge, Rolf’s pool.”
I wasn’t sure he got it completely, but it didn’t matter. Any rip in the fabric of our world would have enough energy coming through so he’d pick up on it immediately. Sure enough, we hadn’t driven more than half a mile when he put his paws up on the edge of the window and gave several barks, high-pitched enough to make Victor wince.
“Couldn’t he just raise a paw or something?” he said with annoyance.
I didn’t think he was that annoyed by the barking. I think he was keyed up, which meant this operation wasn’t going to be the breeze he was making it out to be.
I recognized the house from the TV news clip. Hopefully the couple hadn’t changed their minds and returned; that would pose an entirely different set of problems, assuming they would still be among the living. But the shades of the front windows were only partially drawn, and there was no sign of anyone inside.
“Try not to use any talent,” Victor said. “An aversion spell might be useful to avoid curious neighbors, but it’s likely any use of talent will alert the Shadow Men if they’re here.”
He strolled nonchalantly over to the small ground-level garage, casually carrying his sword as if it were a golf club, and peered through a tiny window on the sliding garage door. He motioned for me to come over.
“No car in the garage,” he said.
He held up a hand for silence and we listened for a minute. Everything was quiet. I followed him as he walked up the short flight of stairs to the front door. By the time we reached the door he had a roll of duct tape in his hand.
“Right here?” I said, seeing what he was about to do. “Why not around back?”
“People messing around at the back of a house invite suspicion. They’re always worth a second look. People in the front of a house are natural. You’d make a lousy burglar.”
He knocked, waited, and knocked again. After a minute he tore off a number of pieces of the duct tape and pasted them against the small window toward the top of the door. Without hesitation he pulled his arm back and struck the tape-covered pane a sharp blow with his elbow. There was a muffled crunching sound as the window fell away and shards dangled from the tape.
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