Deadly Curiosities (42 page)

“What do you bring to the party, Mr. Pettis?” I asked. I really wished Sorren was here to glamor the guy and find out if he was telling the truth, although my gut said he was, through a tilted perspective.

“The guy you want is named Moran. Tall, thin guy with a puckered face. Hides under a hat, but he looks like he pruned up in the sun,” Chuck said bluntly. “Jimmy Redshoes and Kevin Harvey, they used to come into Stor-Your-Own and loot the units that were abandoned. They left my stuff alone, and I left them alone. I understood. You gotta do what you gotta do to survive these days.”

Kevin Harvey
. That was the name of the man I’d glimpsed in the vision at the Dennison house. “That’s where they got the things they sold,” I said. Chuck nodded.

“I also knew those guys who dove for treasure. Russ and the guys from the
Privateer
,” Chuck said.

“Nice folks. Something fishy about what happened to them. I think Moran had something to do with it.”

Chuck’s instincts were too spot on for his own good. His Black Ops background dismissed the notion that he was naïve. I suspected that he was a sterling judge of character in figuring that we weren’t the kind to kill him for knowing too much, and that he likely had a touch of his own magic.

“You were going to tell us what you bring to the party?” Teag reminded him.

Chuck gave a world-weary smile. “I know all the ways in and out of Stor-Your-Own. I’ve been going in and out since it closed, and I’m alive to talk about it – which is more than I can say for any of the others.

I know the layout. It’s not what you might have seen on a map,” he said with a look that told us he figured we had done our homework.

“The place has gone to hell in a handbasket over the last six months,” he said. “Sinkholes. Debris from the last hurricane that took off some of the roofing. No electricity. That makes the building darker than the back of the moon, and you’ve got to navigate in and out before something eats you.”

He gave me a pointed glare. “I know where Moran and his demon make their nest in that place. I know their habits, and I know how to get around them.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest. “I’m your guide. All I want is my clocks.”

Chuck was bat-shit crazy around the edges, but if he’d seen the action he said he had, he was entitled to it. He had a point. To my knowledge, Sorren hadn’t scouted the interior of Stor-Your-Own, and we sure as hell weren’t going to. I didn’t doubt his claim that he had been going in and out successfully for months, managing to stay alive when so many others hadn’t. What I didn’t know yet was whether or not he was in league with Moran.

“Your proposal is interesting,” I said. I glanced at the vintage Longines watch on his wrist. “Let me hold your watch for a moment.”

Chuck looked taken aback, and then he simply stared at me. Slowly, he removed his wristwatch, a real antique beauty. I held it in my hands, pretending to study its face.

I saw flashes of the same memories I glimpsed at Chuck’s house:
the dark-haired woman, now dead.
The children, now grown. His loneliness and defiant independence. The guilt over things that had occurred under orders during the war. I saw flashes of his happiest memories, and fragments of the things that haunted his dreams.
And when I was done, I knew a few more things. Some of them involved precognition, Chuck’s hidden, burdensome talent.

Chuck’s belief that he would die without the clocks was genuine. Not necessarily true, but definitely something he believed without reservation. Blame PTSD. I did.

Chuck’s government connections were severed abruptly and bitterly long ago. He wasn’t going to rat us out to the NSA.

I glanced up to Teag, who gave me a nod. Teag’s ability to weave information includes perception.

He’s an insanely good judge of character. Chuck made the cut.

I realized Chuck was staring at me as I handed back his watch. “You’re psychometric,” he said matter of-factly. “Of course you are. That’s how you know which pieces are dangerous.”

I thought about arguing, but instead I just shrugged. “We’ve all got our gifts. We can’t all see into the future.” I met his eyes. He looked startled, then his gaze slid away. He knew I’d made him.

I had no idea how I was going to explain this to Sorren, but I trusted both my gift and my gut. “If you want a chance to make Moran pay for killing Jimmy and Kevin – and for everything else, we’d be glad to have you as our guide.”

I
TOLD
S
ORREN
about Chuck and his unusual background, as well as my read of his trustworthiness and my invitation. Sorren had been understandably skeptical, and had asked that he and Mirov get to meet Chuck before plans moved forward. It was a reasonable request, and I couldn’t fault Sorren’s caution, even if it dented my pride a bit to be second-guessed.

“Look at it this way,” Teag said as we waited in Trifles and Folly for the others to show up. “Sorren’s been doing this for a lot longer. Maybe once you’ve been at it for a couple of hundred years, he’ll let you pick members for the team without him.”

“Very funny,” I said, but he had a point. I was still new at this. And I hoped my choice had been a good one.

Sorren and Mirov arrived before Chuck. Sorren had recently fed, because his pallor was gone, and his light complexion was a touch ruddy, as if he had been out in the wind. In low light, he could easily pass for mortal. Mirov, dressed all in black, looked like a hit man out of a Cold War movie.

“You’re taking a risk by involving an outsider,” Sorren said. “I’m not convinced we need him.”

“You were going to go check out the storage facility.” I said. “Did you have the chance to go?”

Sorren nodded. “But I didn’t go past the fence. The energy stinks of demon and death. It’s definitely where the demon is nesting, and if the demon’s there, odds are so is Moran.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Then that’s a big plus for bringing Chuck with us. He’s been in and out of there fairly often since it closed, so he knows what’s normal and what isn’t,” I said. “He says there’s damage from the last couple of storms, plus lack of maintenance, and he knows how to get around it.

Plus, he’s certain he knows where Moran and his demon are holed up. Up until now, he’s mostly avoided them. But he’s desperate enough to get his clocks, he offered to guide us.”

“He’s one more liability,” Mirov added, clearly unhappy about my invitation. “We have no idea how he’ll react under stress.”

I arched an eyebrow. “He’s been ‘reacting under stress’ for six months now. Teag checked out his story – he really is ex-Special Forces, former Black Ops. He saw combat. Plus I’m ninty-nine percent sure he’s clairvoyant.”

“He comes with his own weapons,” Teag volunteered. “And he didn’t freak out when the minion came after him.”

“For all we know, he could be working for Moran,” Mirov said.

“That’s why I read his watch,” I replied, starting to get annoyed. “He’s frightened of Moran, and repulsed. He genuinely grieves Jimmy Redshoes. He wants a chance to avenge Jimmy and Kevin. And he left the Army on terms that soured him on the military and cut off his old ties, so I don’t think he’s going to turn us in.”

“He won’t,” Teag said. “I hacked into a couple of military databases. Chuck was reprimanded for insubordination and given a dishonorable discharge for leading a mutiny against his commanding officer.”

“Why?” Mirov asked, his eyes narrowing.

Teag gave a ‘gotcha’ grin. “According to testimony, Chuck tried to talk his superior officer out of the mission, because he had a premonition it would go terribly wrong. The officer refused to listen. Chuck wouldn’t back down, and took a swing at the guy. Chuck ended up in the brig, and the officer led the mission.” “What happened?” I asked.

“The men walked into a trap. All but a handful died. The commander survived and pressed charges,”

He grimaced. “If Chuck hadn’t taken a swing at him, he might have gotten off with a lesser punishment.

As it was, he was court martialed, served time in Leavenworth, and given a dishonorable discharge.”

“No wonder he’s bitter,” I said.

“He’ll know more than he should about what we do,” Sorren groused.

I leveled my gaze at him. “Then glamour him. If you can use mind control on Alistair, you can handle Chuck.”

Just then, Chuck knocked at the locked front door of the shop. I wasn’t about to ask anyone to come in the back door after what happened the last time we used the alley.

Chuck wore the same type of outfit as I’d seen him in before: olive green jacket (ticking), fatigues, and combat boots. He had a new gimme cap covering his bald head, this time from a trucking company. I saw a Glock in a holster on his belt, and I was guessing he had his ‘remote control’ and possibly other spiffy tools hidden about his person.

“Thanks for coming,” I said, letting him in. “Come on back. We’re in the kitchen.” He grunted a greeting. I figured he was nervous, as well as just curmudgeonly.

Teag offered Chuck a cup of tea, but Chuck shook his head and stood at one side of the small table, eyeing Sorren and Mirov. “I’m here,” he said. “What did you want to know?”

“Cassidy says you’re willing to guide us in to the storage facility,” Sorren said. He was standing out of direct light, leaning against the counter.

Chuck regarded him for a moment, then nodded. “I said I would.”

“Why?” Mirov asked. He was at the end of the table, dark, glowering, and intimidating. I suspected it was intentional.

Chuck didn’t scare easily. “Moran and his attack dog killed my friend Jimmy, and I figure he was behind some other people disappearing. People I liked. I spent ten years getting rid of scum like him when I was in the Army. It rubs me wrong, and I’d like to do something about it – and get my clocks.”

“Attack dog?” Sorren asked, raising an eyebrow.

Chuck gave a sarcastic smile. “What else do you call a demon that comes when you whistle?”

I could see that Chuck’s attitude and his knowledge was making an impression on Sorren, and I suspected he was using his heightened senses and long experience to size him up. I had the feeling that Chuck was sizing up Sorren as well.

“What do you know of demons?’ Mirov scoffed. “Comic books? Movies?”

“I was with a team that fought a lamashtu in Iraq,” Chuck said without batting an eye. Lost two men, came out with four, bound the demon and turned it over to a local holy man to get rid of,” he added.

“Gave me this.” Chuck pulled up his sleeve. A deep gash ran from his shoulder to his wrist.

“Go ahead,” he said, leveling a challenging look at Sorren and Mirov. “Touch the scar. If you’ve got an ounce of magic, you’ll know I didn’t get it cutting my lawn.”

“Anything else?” Mirov questioned, not yet convinced.

“We put down an Adromalech-level demon in South Korea,” Chuck replied. “Nasty. His minions spit a mix of acid and poison. I got this for a souvenir,” he said, and bent his head so that we got a good look at the puckered burn on his neck. “I spent two weeks in the base hospital. Almost died before they figured out how to knock out the infection.”

He glared at them. “And I’ll say it again: go ahead. Touch the scars. If you’re what you claim to be, it’ll be clear that I’m telling the truth.”

We appeared to have a testosterone stand-off between Chuck, Sorren, and Mirov. I rolled my eyes.

“Folks, we’ve got a demon on the loose and at least a dozen dead men. Chuck can get us in, and get us around the obstacles,” I said. “Personally, I think we need all the help we can get.”

“Give me a moment,” Sorren said. “I’d like to speak with Taras.” Sorren and Mirov moved into my office and closed the door.

Chuck looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “The blond one. You know what he is?”

I deliberately misunderstood. “Belgian?”

Chuck glowered. “Vampire.”

“How did you know?”

Chuck snorted. “Used to work with three of them, back in Dragon Unit. Me and the other guys used to donate blood to the company medics so they’d have a supply. Let them bite me more than once, in a pinch, when they got hurt bad.”

Despite my first impressions, I found myself liking Chuck. He was cantankerous and headstrong, but he stood up for his friends and for what he believed. That was a rare trait. I couldn’t blame Sorren and Mirov for their caution, but I was convinced Chuck belonged in our group, along with Lucinda.

Sorren and Mirov emerged from their discussion. Mirov glowered, but I couldn’t tell whether he had been overruled or whether that was his normal expression.

“You’re in,” Sorren said abruptly, moving to stand directly in front of Chuck. Chuck lifted his chin to the challenge in Sorren’s voice, but he did not try to meet Sorren’s gaze.

“Be clear on this. If you betray us, or cause harm to come to one of mine, you will not survive.”

Sorren’s expression made it clear that the warning was not idle.

“I’ll hold up my end,” Chuck snapped. “I’ll get you in and out. Just make sure I get my damned clocks.”

“When?” I asked.

“Tomorrow night,” Sorren replied. “There’s nothing to gain by waiting any longer, and the longer we wait, the more likely it is that Moran will change his plans and we’ll lose our chance.”

“I borrowed my brother’s old panel van,” Teag said. “It’s beat up, but it runs well. And it’s nondescript, just a hard-used white van.” He grinned. “He won it in a card game, and it’s had a lot of owners – it would be tough for anyone to track it back to him, or us. That should be good to get Cassidy, Chuck and me to the Navy yard.”

“Lucinda and Taras and I have our own transportation,” Sorren said. “We’ll meet you at Stor-Your Own.” “We’ll be there,” I said. “It’s about time Stor-Your-Own and the dead men got to rest in peace.”

I
WAS DRESSED
for mayhem. Since I’d taken over Trifles and Folly, my all-black wardrobe had expanded, and not in the little-black-dress way. I’d found it prudent to acquire black jeans, black shirts, a couple of black hoodies, and shoes with really good traction. I even had my own lock picking kit, and had the best jewel thief in Antwerp as my mentor. This wasn’t what I had anticipated when I majored in Antiquities in college.