Dark Currents (26 page)

“Oh,” I said again.
Dauda-dagr
tingled on my hip. “By me?”

Both sides of Hel’s face were stern. “By you or the newcomer who lays claim to authority over their kind.”

“Stefan?”

Hel tilted her head slightly. In the rafters, blue jays squawked and muttered. “Stefan Ludovic, yes. Unless he is complicit in this?”

“No.” Funny how quickly that denial came out of my mouth. I amended my words honestly. “Forgive me, my lady. I cannot be entirely sure. But I believe him to be innocent in the matter.”

Hel regarded me with both eyes, the compassionate and the baleful alike, and I had the feeling she could see straight through my vulnerable mortal flesh to the dense and conflicted knot of pride, anger, desire, fear, confusion, and a thousand other tangled emotions that lay within my restless hell-spawn’s soul, always fighting for ascendance.

I half hoped that she would say something painful and insightful to sever the knot. I half feared that she would dismiss me from her service as unworthy. Or maybe it was the other way around.

Instead, she made her voice gentle. “It is well that you possess hope, Daisy Johanssen. Do not lose it.”

“I’ll try not to, my lady.”

Gentleness fled, and Hel’s ember eye blazed, eclipsing the compassionate one. “It need not be done by your hand, but it must be done. Bear a message from me to this Stefan Ludovic. If he fails to administer my justice to his kind, he
will
be banished from my domain. Is that understood?”

I nodded. “It is.”

“And if he fails?” Hel asked me.

My left hand dropped to
dauda-dagr
’s
leather-wrapped hilt, my fingers closing around it for comfort. Death day. Its bracing coolness seeped into my palm.

Could I kill?

It wasn’t a threshold I’d ever imagined myself crossing. But I thought about what I had seen on Schtupernatural.com, about the printouts Casimir had given me, the mermaid’s distorted face above an anonymous phone number. About the anguished hunger in Emma Sudbury’s eyes, the entire span of her mortal life sacrificed in service to her sister’s needs. About Twilight Manor, and Bethany’s emaciated frame and hollow-eyed gaze.

Yeah, maybe I could.

“If he fails, it falls to me,” I said steadily. “And I will
not
fail you, my lady.”

Hel inclined her head. “You may go.”

Thirty-six

T
he frost giant Mikill was wrong about one thing. As we approached the sacred well at the base of Yggdrasil II, one of the Norns set down her bucket and beckoned to us. I glanced at Mikill, who lifted his massive shoulders in a shrug and braked the buggy.

It was the oldest of the Norns, the one who looked like a kindly old grandmother except for the fact that her fingernails were long, silver talons and, now that I got a closer look, the fact that her eyes were as colorless as mist.

“Yes, my lady?” I said politely.

“Listen well, young Daisy.” Her voice sounded like it came from far away, like some whole other dimension. Maybe seeing the past, present, and future simultaneously will do that to a person. “When the time comes, think on the words the vampire spoke to you today and find a key hidden within them.”

Okay, not what I expected. “Umm . . . any chance you could be more specific?” I asked her. “At least point me in the direction of the right vampire?”

The Norn gave me a vague smile. “The answer lies within you.” With that, she picked up her bucket and resumed her duties.

Huh.

Mikill revved the engine and cautioned me to keep my limbs inside the vehicle as we raced back up Yggdrasil II’s hollow interior.

“You said the Norns wouldn’t have any counsel for me yet!” I shouted above the sound of the engine as we emerged.

“So I said upon your arrival,” Mikill replied. “Perhaps you are not entirely the same person upon your departure, Daisy Johanssen.”

Between coming and going, I’d pledged to kill if necessary, something so grave it made worrying about the Seven Deadlies seem trivial. I let that thought sit in silence for the rest of the drive home.

Mikill delivered me to the alley at some late o’thirty of the night, only just too early for Mrs. Browne to have fired up her ovens. I thanked him for the ride, and the dune buggy sputtered away in a fine mist of frozen pellets, the frost giant’s beard wagging in the wind of its passage.

I climbed the stairs to my apartment, my steps leaden. Despite having taken a nap, I was tired beyond tired. It wasn’t just that this was the longest day of my life and I’d begun it sleep-deprived and hungover. From Meg Mucklebones onward, the day’s seemingly endless series of encounters had taken a serious toll on me.

Mogwai was nowhere to be found, and the apartment felt empty. I filled his bowl, then went straight into the bedroom. I unbuckled my belt and sheathed dagger, laying them carefully on the dresser. I tried to reconstruct every conversation I’d had at the House of Shadows tonight, but I was just too damned tired to concentrate. Instead, I fished the Oak King’s token from my pocket. That was certainly the day’s highlight. I took a moment to sit on the edge of my bed, gazing at the silver acorn in wonder. I couldn’t resist raising it to my lips, letting my breath mist the gleaming metal.

Okay, Daisy. Put down the magic whistle.

I stashed it in the jewelry box atop my dresser, stripped off my clothes, crawled into bed, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It seemed like only minutes had passed before the unmistakable roar of a Harley chugging into the alley below awakened me, but sunlight was streaming through the gaps in the drapes.

Swearing, I scrambled back into yesterday’s clothing, opened the drapes, and flung the window wide. “Stefan?”

The black leather-clad figure on the bike below cut the engine and removed his helmet, revealing a blond ponytail. Not Stefan, but his lieutenant Johnny. “Sorry to wake you, ma’am,” he called up in a faint drawl. “Stefan’s been trying to reach you, but he’s not getting any phone reception out in the boondocks. He found out where Jerry Dunham’s gone and holed himself up.”

A spike of adrenaline jolted me alert. “He did?”

Johnny the ghoul nodded. “He sent me to fetch you.” His expression was grim. “Said to make sure you brung that dagger of yours.”

“Are they all with Dunham?” I asked. “Ray D, Mary Sudbury, and . . . the hostage?”

“We think so.” He shrugged. “Stefan didn’t want to move in on them without talking to you first. Hel’s liaison and all. It’s a courtesy, I reckon.” He didn’t sound particularly approving, but he didn’t sound particularly disapproving, either. “You coming or not, ma’am? One way or another, this is going down. And I still got to swing by Rafe’s place and pick up reinforcements.”

I buckled
dauda-dagr
around my waist, settling the belt on my hips. “Give me the location. I’ll call it in to the station.”

Johnny hesitated, scowling up at me. “This ain’t police business.”

I pointed at him, banging my fingertip against the screen. Smooth, I know. “Not your call, Johnny. I spoke to Hel last night and she was very clear about leaving Dunham to mortal authorities.” I didn’t mention that she had a pretty serious message for Stefan, too. That, I’d deliver to him myself. “What’s the address?”

With another shrug, he gave it to me.

I called the station and relayed the address to Patty Rogan with orders to pass it on to the chief and Cody, then clattered down the stairs.

Johnny’s pupils dilated briefly in his gray-blue eyes, then contracted to pinpoints as he wrestled himself under control. He shoved the helmet back onto his head, buckled it, and handed me a second one before straddling the Harley. “You need to hold on to something, ma’am, best you hold on to the sissy bar,” he advised me. “Not me. I don’t need no extra temptation. Okay?”

Donning the helmet, I sat gingerly behind him, trying to minimize contact between us. “Not a problem.”

“All right, then.” Johnny turned the key in the ignition and kicked the bike into life, opening the throttle. I caught a fleeting glimpse of Mogwai crouching beneath the rhododendrons, his fur bristling, before we roared out of the alley.

It had been years since I’d ridden on the back of a motorcycle—since Mom’s old boyfriend Trey Summers, who had introduced me to the blues, had been killed. It was a car accident involving a drunk driver that took his life, but he’d had a motorcycle, too. Sometimes, with Mom’s permission, he’d take me for rides. I’d forgotten how exhilarating it could be. I leaned back against the upright sissy bar, away from Johnny, reaching behind me to take a tight grip on the bars.

The streets of downtown Pemkowet whizzed past us. We pulled out onto the highway, crossing the bridge.

The river sparkled brightly in the sunlight like a promise.

At East Pemkowet’s only stoplight, which unlike its sister stoplight in downtown Pemkowet doesn’t have a changing ceremony of its own, Johnny turned his head and shouted something incomprehensible to me, pointing in the direction of the lakeshore. All I caught was a few words about Stefan’s second lieutenant, Rafe, and reinforcements, but he’d mentioned it earlier.

I nodded. “Okay!”

We roared toward the lakeshore and along the bluff above Lake Michigan. Today it was windy and there were whitecaps, long, rolling breakers curling toward the shore. It would be a good day for bodysurfing. I felt a burst of nostalgia, yearning for the sun-kissed days of childhood, when Mom would take me to the beach on her day off and I’d spend the entire day building sandcastles and frolicking in the waves, my only concern making sure I kept my tail securely tucked in my bikini bottom. The arching canopies of the grand old trees lining Lakeshore Drive made it seem like we were driving through a green tunnel. Johnny drove with impressive competence, weaving around joggers and dog walkers. We passed Lurine’s gated driveway and kept going.

A half mile later, Johnny pulled into a long driveway leading to a McMansion nestled in the woods, parking alongside five or six additional motorcycles.

Call me dense, but that was about the time my tail started twitching with suspicion.

I scrambled off the back of the bike, unbuckled my helmet, and hung it on the sissy bar. “Awfully nice place Rafe has here.”

“You think a ghoul can’t have nice things?” Johnny asked in a mild tone, taking off his own helmet. “Can’t live in a nice house?”

I took a few wary steps backward. “Nooo . . .”

He beckoned. “Come on; it’ll just be a moment.”

Two things caught my eye. The first was the most beautiful motorcycle I’d ever seen, with a teardrop-shaped tank painted a deep, glossy red. Cody had identified it as a 1940s Indian Chief.

The second was a stone placard hung beside the front door of the McMansion announcing it to be the residence of the Locksley family, complete with a faux-heraldic crest with a Latin motto and pair of crossed arrows on prominent display. Yeah, crossed arrows—the missing piece of the puzzle from my mom’s reading.
Las Jaras
, the destination.

Oh,
crap
.

Johnny’s pupils dilated a split second before I bolted, and he was on me before I’d gotten ten steps toward the road, tackling me, his greater weight bringing me down. I hit the driveway hard, banging my chin and seeing stars. He rolled me over effortlessly, straddling my waist and pinning my arms with his knees. I fought a surge of pure panic, channeling it into fury.

“Whatever happened to being Stefan’s trusted lieutenant?” I spat at him.

Johnny inhaled deeply and grinned down at me, his pupils wide and black. “What can I say? I’m afraid I had a change of heart. Got an offer I couldn’t refuse.” He cracked his knuckles and drew back one fist. “Sorry about this,
ma’am
.”

His fist crashed down against my temple.

And everything went black.

Thirty-seven

M
y consciousness filtered back slowly. All I knew at first was that my head ached fiercely, and I felt sick and dizzy. Disoriented, I opened my eyes and tried to make sense of what I was seeing.

Water, murky and greenish. Huh. It didn’t feel like I was underwater. I took an experimental breath. Yeah, that worked. Okay, so I definitely wasn’t underwater.

A woman’s face swam into view inches from mine, gray-green and eerie, dark hair swirling around her head, pale translucent membranes over her eyes.

“Gah!” My body convulsed in a futile attempt to scramble backward, which was when I realized I was lying on my side, my hands tied behind my back, my ankles bound together. With an effort, I levered myself to a sitting position.

“She’s awake,” a man’s voice said with the same relish you might use to announce that dinner was ready.

Focusing, I made out the figure of Al the Walrus, his eyes glittering in the dim light.
Oh, crap
didn’t even begin to sum it up.

“Leave her be for now, you greedy bastard,” a laconic voice retorted. Jerry Dunham thumped the top of what I now realized was an enormous aquarium tank. “You need to feed, feed on good old Rosie here.”

“Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies!” a woman’s voice sang dreamily. The infanticidal ghoul Mary Sudbury stooped before me, pupils enormous in her blue eyes. She’d died young, pretty, and insane. “Can’t I have just a taste?” she crooned. “I’m ever so tired of mermaid. Her despair’s gone all stale.”

“No. Get off her.” Dunham gave Mary a ruthless shove.

“Hey, man!” another ghoul protested, tall and whippet-thin. Ray D, I presumed. “You don’t treat her like that.”

“Or what?” Dunham calmly pulled a pistol from the waistband of his jeans.

Ray D laughed and spread his arms. “Go ahead, shoot.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna shoot
you
.” Dunham shifted his stance and aimed the gun at my head. My mind went blank with terror. “First I shoot the girl; then I shoot the fish, and you ravening motherfuckers can starve.”

Across the room came the sound of a shotgun being pumped. “Do it and I blow your head off, Dunham,” Johnny said. “And there’s no coming back for
you
. Stick with the plan.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do, you dumb hillbilly.” Jerry Dunham turned to face him with a sociopath’s utter lack of fear. “You promised me you could keep your ghouls under control long enough.”

Johnny gritted his teeth, his pupils waxing and waning. “And I will. No feeding on the girl,” he warned them. “Not until this is over.”

“Oh, but she’s
so scared
,” Mary Sudbury crooned, circling back to stroke my cheek. “Poor little thing.” A shadow crossed her face. “I bet your mommy’s going to miss you ever so much.”

“Get off her, Mary,” Dunham said again. “I’m not gonna tell you a third time.”

She pouted. “Just a taste?”

“Not until it’s over.” Johnny gestured with the shotgun. “Ray, pull her off.”

“Come on, sweetheart.” The tall, thin ghoul took Mary by the shoulders, easing her gently backward. “It won’t be long.” He grinned at me, baring discolored teeth. “And when it’s over, we’ll have a feast.”

Licking my dry lips, I found my voice. It sounded shaky. “Was that the offer you couldn’t refuse?” I asked Johnny.

He shook his head. “You’re just the icing on the cake. Dunham, you ready to try again? I can’t touch it.”

“Yeah, I’ll have another go.” Jerry Dunham shoved the pistol back into his waistband, flexing his hand. There was a bandanna wrapped around it. “Fuck, that fucking hurt. Luke, you got that welding glove for me?”

A ghoul I didn’t recognize tossed it to him. I shrank back at Dunham’s approach, finding a wall behind me. In the tank beside me, the mermaid pressed her webbed hands against the glass in a gesture of sympathy.

“Quit your cowering,” Dunham said to me with disdain. “I’m not interested in
you
.” Reaching down with his gloved hand, he yanked
dauda-dagr
from its sheath. Within seconds, he was grimacing. “Motherfucker, that’s cold!”

“Can you hold it long enough to do the job?” Johnny asked him.

“Oh, yeah.” Dunham dropped the dagger on the top of the bar and shook out his hand. “I reckon I might lose a few more layers of skin. But for Mister High Lord Muckety-Muck, I’ll manage.”

I swallowed. “You’re after Stefan, aren’t you?”

He turned his flat gaze on me. “Give the little girl a cookie.”

“Why?” I asked him. “It seems like an awfully big risk to take.”

Jerry Dunham peeled off his welding glove and shrugged. “Well, now, Johnny here’s looking to stage a coup and take over in Pemkowet. His accomplices want to go back to doing what ghouls do best, and make other people’s lives miserable.” He nodded at Ray D and Mary Sudbury, the latter wrapped in the former’s arms. “Them two lovebirds just want to be left alone, only they need a source, and I reckon you’ll do for a while, since poor old Rosie’s gettin’ tapped out. And as for me . . .” He cocked his head and looked thoughtful. “You know what, blondie? I just really don’t like the guy.”

“And that’s enough?” I whispered.

Dunham flexed his hand again, contemplating it. “Sometimes you just gotta let the world burn.”

Let the world burn
. . . .

The words echoed in my ears, evoking yesterday’s vision: the lake of fire, the bat wings, the fiery whip.

I shivered. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know what you could unleash.”

His mouth curled. “I heard the rumors. You gonna call your daddy, blondie? Risk unleashing hell on earth?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home,” Mary sang, swaying back and forth in Ray’s arms. “Your house is on fire, and your children are all . . . Oh.” Her voice fell silent.

A wave of despair washed over me, fresh and tasty, by the way the ghouls responded. Al the Walrus groaned with pleasure. It was a disgusting feeling.

“Simmer down!” Dunham said sharply. “Whatever she’s broadcasting, we need it out there loud and clear, long enough for Ludovic to home in on it.”

“Could be a while.” There was a sheen of sweat on Johnny’s face. “It don’t exactly work like a GPS, you know.”

“We’ll wait as long as it takes.” Dunham strode across the room and banged on the side of the aquarium. “Come on, old gal! Muster up a bit of anguish.” Stooping, he picked up an extension cord with a frayed end. “Shall I give you a little jolt?”

The mermaid’s face contorted with fear and she shook her head, hair waving like seaweed.

The ghouls sighed with satisfaction.

Dunham dropped the cord. “That’ll do you for now.”

Oh, God.
I was alone in a house full of ghouls and a captive mermaid, serving as bait for a trap to lure in Stefan. Too late to try to rein in my emotions now; I’d already loosed a bolt of sheer terror he couldn’t have missed. I’d sent the police on a wild-goose chase. The Oak King’s token was back home in my jewelry box. I’d lost
dauda-dagr
, an incredibly dangerous and valuable weapon, to a freaking sociopath. Apparently whatever ancient Norse magic had created a dagger only Hel’s chosen could wield hadn’t taken Kevlar welding gloves into account. I pulled my knees to my chest, bowing my head against them.

There were no good outcomes here.

Daughter . . .

Belphegor’s voice whispered faintly in my thoughts, promising power beyond imagining: powers of temptation, seduction, and destruction. The power to wreak vengeance on my enemies, which sounded pretty good right about now.

You have but to ask
.

Yeah, and crack open the Inviolate Wall, paving the way for Armageddon. Turning my head, I gazed at the mermaid. She gazed back at me, eyes a lucent green beneath their nictitating membranes. The scales that covered the lower half of her body were large and gray. A row of gills ran along either side of her torso, starting below the armpit. They fanned open and shut feebly in the murky water, revealing vulnerable-looking inner flesh that was an unhealthy pale mauve color.

I didn’t know a lot about mermaids—or fish, for that matter—but I thought she looked pretty damn sickly. I wondered how long she’d been held captive in that tank.

“So what happens when this is over?” I asked Dunham. “You pack up the tank and skip town again?”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “Not worth it to hire an experienced crew. I found that out the hard way.”

“Bringing her from Seattle?”

Dunham didn’t bother to answer. “Just not a big enough market in this Podunk town.” He thumped the tank again. “And poor old Rosie’s on her last . . . fins.” He laughed at his own joke. “My fault for letting a couple of dumb ghouls handle things. I should have kept her in the trailer like I planned.”

“We did our best!” Ray D protested. “It wasn’t our fault that kid panicked and got himself drowned.”

“Sweet, sweet panic,” Mary murmured in a melancholy tone. “My sweet baby boy panicked when I held him underwater, but I held him ever so tight until he went to sleep like a good boy.”

“They all panic,” Dunham said briefly, nudging the extension cord with his foot. “That’s part of your fun, ain’t it?
Your
job was to keep Rosie in line so she
didn’t
struggle.”

“So it was an accident?” I asked.

He gave me his flat stare. “You want to play twenty questions, blondie? It was a clusterfuck is what it was.” He pointed at Ray. “
You
fucked up giving those first Van Buren boys your name. Them others were never supposed to come looking for no Ray D at the bar. Just a phone number.”

Mary hummed and then sang to herself, swaying in Ray’s arms. “Operator, could you help me place this call. . . .”

“Ray, can you shut her up?” one of the ghouls I didn’t recognize said.

Ray glared, tightening his arms around Mary. “Fuck you!”

“Fuck
you
!”

Johnny swung his shotgun around the room, aiming at everyone and no one. “Shut up, y’all,” he said genially. “No point in turning on each other now. For the time being, we’re in this together. Once Stefan’s out of the picture, you want to fight, fight.”

Everyone fell silent.

Surreptitiously, I tested the ropes around my wrists and ankles. Yep, pretty tight. But if no one was watching, I thought maybe I could wriggle my arms over my hips and butt and get my hands in front of me.

And do . . . what?

Daughter . . .

“No!” I said aloud. “No!”

“No, what?” Dunham eyed me suspiciously.

I leaned back against the wall. “Nothing.”

“Ludovic’s taking his own sweet time.” Crouching before me, he plucked the pistol out of his waistband, shoving the muzzle under my chin. “You sure you’re plenty scared, blondie?” he mused.

Hyperventilating, I nodded.

“Stefan’s not stupid, Dunham,” Johnny said. “Don’t you make the mistake of thinking so. He ain’t gonna come storming in here. He’s gonna take his time to assess the situation, rally his troops, make good and sure he knows who’s loyal before he makes his move. When he does, you be mindful of what I told you.”

“No kill shots.” Jerry Dunham sounded disgruntled.

Johnny nodded. “You fire off a kill shot, he’ll just reincorporate.” He snapped his fingers. “Like that. He’s old and strong, stronger than any of us here. Shoot to maim and finish him off with the dagger, you hear?”

“I hear.”