Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection) (79 page)

Rook leaned toward Sheli. “It is over, Sheli.”

“Don’t I know it,” she responded.

“No, actually I don’t think that you do.” Rook whispered an incantation, and then kissed Sheli’s forehead.

“No!” Sheli screamed as her flesh melted away. Once the bloody remnants burned away, a radiant angel sat before him.

“You can’t!” she begged. “I’m like a beacon now.”

Rook allowed a satisfied grin to come over his face. “I know.”

Fanny clapped gleefully. “Yah! She’s pretty!”

That Sheli was, but he hurried Fanny out of the room. Only then did he realize that Angela hadn’t left, either. She just stood there dumbstruck, staring at the brilliant sight.

“Come on,” Rook urged.

“You can’t leave me tied up like this!” Sheli screamed.

“Oh, watch me,” Rook said as he closed the door behind them.

He got the girls moving down the hall, and as they passed the bouncer Rook gave him his last hundred. “Some rather rough-looking gentlemen may come by. If they ask for Sheli, let them in.”

The man answered as he counted the cash. “You’re the boss.”

“And if the room’s a shakin’…”

“Don’t bother knockin’,” the man finished, nodding. “I am the epitome of discretion.”

Rook seriously doubted that, but had no time to argue. They were up the steps and into the club when Fanny frowned as three rather large “men” entered.

“They are demons,” Fanny whispered.

“Thanks for the tip,” Rook said, but he did not need her third sight to tell him that those poorly disguised figures were demons. One of them even had his tail hanging down from his overcoat. Guess they were in a bit of a hurry. Spreading Sheli’s wings must have alerted them to her presence, but now that she was fully uncovered, they were making a beeline for the basement.

Before they could get down there, Rook hurried Fanny and Angela out of the front door as Beauty pulled up in a run-down van. Paint flecks flew off as the brakes screeched. Opening the sliding door, Rook was greeted with white, slightly sweet smoke pouring out, as though it were a glass bong crunched underfoot.

As he helped Fanny in, he turned to Beauty. “This the best you could do?”

“In this neighborhood?” Beauty questioned. “What did you expect me to find? A Jag convertible? Now get in.”

Rook obliged as people burst from the club’s doors, screaming. Guess those “men” found Sheli.

* * *

Angela crouched next to Chad as the van burned rubber down the street. Tomahawk was already working on his laptop, while Beauty and Rook argued in the front regarding which freeway would get them to the Angeles National Forest the fastest.

The casualness of their fight grated on Angela’s nerves. How could everyone be so calm after so much had happened? Rook had dumped so much information on her, but neglected to explain any of it. Then, back in the room… with Sheli.

“Would you like some tea?” Fanny asked, offering Angela an empty doll cup.

“That,” Angela said, gulping before she spoke again, “That… was an angel.”

“I know!” Fanny exclaimed. “Wasn’t that cool?”

“But… but Rook tortured her,” Angela said, still trying to understand the events of the last few hours. Had she been right to go with them? Or was being strapped to a table for nine months the better option? “Rook left her there, vulnerable and exposed.”

“You win some,” Fanny said, then took a sip of her nonexistent tea. “And you lose some.”

Angela recoiled from the girl. How could she be so nonchalant? How could any of them act this way? All the pain, grief, and terror came to a head.

“You’re insane,” Angela hissed, but Fanny just nodded happily. Raising her voice so that the entire van could hear, Angela stated, “You’re
all
insane.”

Fanny patted her arm like Angela was a child, though. “Oh, no, honey. I
am
crazy, but the rest are perfectly, legally sane. They’ve been tested.”

This was
not
helping. Angela’s body felt foreign to her. She wanted to get out of the van and out of her skin as well. Breathing became difficult as the van’s various vapors amplified her agitation.

Yet, Fanny smiled again. “But how would you know that, or any of us?” Fanny held out her hand. “So rude of me that we haven’t been properly introduced.”

Angela didn’t take the offered hand. Knowing everyone’s full name was not going to help get rid of this feeling of spinning down a rabbit hole with no end in sight.

“I’m Fanny Hops, and I’m the group’s Seeker,” the girl rushed on. “But don’t worry, I’m safe.”

What was that supposed to mean? Angela’s head hurt just trying to figure out what the girl meant. Tomahawk must have sensed her bewilderment, for he stopped typing and explained, “Most Seekers only last until their teens. They see things no human was meant to… and, well… they tend to go homicidally insane after a few years in the field.”

And that was meant to reassure her?

Fanny jumped in. “But I’m okay. I’ve been like this since birth. Rook says I worked out all of my problems in the
womb
.”

Dear God! The girl really believed what she was saying. Angela had a verifiable mentally ill girl trying to explain the impossible events that had assailed her. Angela did not want to believe what Rook had said. She didn’t want to believe that her world, everything she knew, was just the DMZ between heaven and hell. She didn’t want to believe that the final clash between good and evil was happening when the sun rose. Nor did she want to believe that she was instrumental in deciding who won.

Angela turned to Tomahawk, who typed furiously. “And you? Are you a
Seeker
as well?”

“Just an old-fashioned Sniffer. I can’t see things like Fanny, but I can make some pretty good guesses based on patterns of behavior and statistical analysis.”

“Don’t believe him!” Fanny exclaimed. “Sniffing is an art, and he is a master!”

The man blushed and went back to his keyboard. Honestly, Angela expected Tomahawk to give her some New Age explanation—not to reveal he was their tech support. With his tanned skin and rippling muscles, Angela had never quite seen a computer geek like him.

Angela nodded toward Beauty. “And her? Him?”

Fanny slapped Angela’s arm and whispered harshly. “That is Beauty, and you’ll hurt her feelings if you talk like that.”

Angela hadn’t meant any disrespect. When someone wearing a leopard-print bustier and has such a large Adam’s apple, you had to ask.

Fanny added, much louder, “Beauty is the most gorgeous and extraordinary transgender Arranger there is!”

“That is, after I get a fill!” Beauty responded, waving her ratty nails. “But after that, absolutely, sugar.”

Angela hugged her knees as she glanced over at Rook, who was still in a heated debate about the shortest route to the Apocalypse. “And him?” she asked Fanny.

“Rook? Oh, he’s the very best Caster in the whole wide world!”

Rook looked over his shoulder. “Just this world?”

“Nope,” Fanny said, giggling. “Every dimension plus one!”

Rook grinned and caught Angela’s eye as he turned to face forward. The amusement fell away and the hard, unyielding Rook made an appearance before he turned his attention to the road.

“A Caster?” Angela asked.

“Yeah. He casts stuff. You know. Magic, spells, and potions. A
Caster
.”

“You mean, like a wizard?”

Fanny snorted. “Like the ones with the glasses?
Please.
I mean, any Caster who needs a stupid wand to do spells would be laughed out of the Cabal.” She scoffed again. “
Wizard
. Yeah, right.”

Angela watched as Fanny set up her tea party. “If Rook is so powerful, then why did Rook have to torture that angel, then?”

“Because he had to,” she stated matter-of-factly. “She was dangerous.”

Angela still did not understand. “But Sheli was an
angel
.”

“Silly girl,” Fanny said as she offered a pretend muffin on a doll plate. “That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t have killed us all, given the chance.” Fanny became suddenly serious. “You realize that the flesh she used to cloak herself had to be removed from the donor… while she was still alive.”

Angela set down the plate. Even an imaginary muffin made her nauseated as she imagined the suffering of that poor, nameless girl. How could an angel do such a thing? Even one who had sided with Lucifer.

“Around here,” Tomahawk commented, “you might not want to ask questions unless you are prepared for the answers.”

As she tried to quiet her stomach, Angela would definitely keep that in mind.

CHAPTER 8

Rook put his hand on the door latch as Beauty pulled the van to a stop outside a large, lonely barn. Moonlight illuminated the low, rolling fields surrounding the structure. All looked clear.

“I should only be in there a few minutes,” he said to Beauty as he opened the door. “Keep Roto-Rooter quiet and Angela secure.”

“Rook, we don’t have time—”

“Hey, I didn’t want to make this detour either,” Rook explained. “But if we’re going to do this, we’re going to need a vehicle that produces a little more
oomph
than a ‘70s Chevy,” said Rook, overriding Beauty’s retort. “You know that without the Cabal’s help, this is the only way.”

“But Vlad? Really? He works the ‘dark market,’ “ Beauty questioned. “Do we really have to stoop so low?”

“Who else could get us the equipment in under and hour?”

Beauty finally nodded as Fanny rushed from the back of the van. “Then I should come with you. Vlad loves me.”

“No, sweetie,” Rook said before he kissed her on the forehead. “We already talked about this. It’s best if you two don’t see each other for a while.”

“But I miss him…” Fanny pouted.

Normally, her look of complete and utter dejection would work on Rook, but not around Vlad. The vampire might love Fanny, but that didn’t stop him from ripping her throat out and drinking her dry. She spent six weeks on life support after that. Fanny didn’t remember any of it, and Rook intended to keep it that way.

“I know, sweetie,” he cooed. “Maybe if we survive Armageddon, we can talk about it.”

Fanny brightened. “Great!”

Of course, Fanny did not seem to understand exactly how poor the odds were of that outcome, or Rook never would have made the offer. Making sure her hands were inside the vehicle, Rook shut the van door and headed across the dew-soaked field.

Opening the creaky wooden door, Rook entered the old barn. The smell of old hay and rotting wood caressed his nose. After the bathroom back at the safe house, these putrid smells were practically fragrances.

Moonlight streaked in through the broken slats above him, making the ground appear mottled and shifting. Which, standing over a minor nexus, wasn’t necessarily untrue. This place, in the middle of the dilapidated barn, was a communication node. He could barely whisper, yet it could be heard at another node in Taiwan. Whether Vlad took his “call” was another question entirely.

Rook began the incantation. “The tides turn slowly. The wind blows—” He shook his head. He didn’t have time for the proper formalities. “Vlad Marier, I summon thy undead butt to my presence.”

It wasn’t exactly by the book, but it should get the job done.

Sure enough, green smoke slid through the space between the slats and coalesced into a dark, brooding, and handsome young man. Of course, the chiseled features and piercing green eyes were deceptive. Vlad was a little over a hundred years old.

“You might have the power to summon me, Rook, but you don’t have the strength to command me.”

Great.
Vlad was in his “strut” mode.

“I don’t have to,” Rook stated. “I’ve got cash.”

Vlad’s eyes narrowed, clearly suspicious. Usually, their interactions ended in a firestorm of magic and blood. Rook pulled out several bundles of bills. That got Vlad’s attention. A slow smile spread across the vampire’s lips, revealing his fangs.

“How much?” Vlad, asked practically drooling over the profit margin.

“Enough to commission your services.”

Rook tossed a bundle across the barn. Vlad snatched it midair. Next, Rook tossed a small journal. “Beauty’s got all the specs written down.”

Vlad’s eyes darted back and forth as he read the document. Finally, the vampire reached into his pocket and pulled out a long form, in triplicate. With a flourish, he handed Rook a pen.

“It’s a standard form. Sign on the dotted line, and we’re set.”

Rook frowned. “Since when did you need a contract?”

“Since I stared working with the likes of you,” Vlad replied.

Rook bent his finger, and the document flew across the barn. He had to squint to read all of the fine print. There were clauses to “hold harmless,” and “insurance riders.” He missed the good old days, when he just handed a dark marketeer the cash, and he handed you the goods.

“Wait!” “Why does it say ‘pay in advance’?” Rook asked.

Vlad shrugged. “I know the damage you can do, Rook.”

This was ridiculous. The world, the entire set of multi-dimensions, hung in the balance, and he was negotiating with a vampire? He did
not
have time for this. Sighing, Rook just signed the contract and threw all three bundles of cash at Vlad.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Rook said, hoping each syllable dripped with the maximum dose of sarcasm possible.

“Sorry, I can’t say the same,” Vlad sneered as he tucked the cash in his pocket.

Rook went to turn away when the vampire’s demeanor changed. It was easy to forget how young Vlad had been when turned. Without the strut and attitude, he barely looked older than Rook’s Seeker.

“Is Fanny with you?”

“Spare me,” Rook answered. “Spare us both.”

“But I just wanted to know—”

“If you killed her? Scarred her for life? What?” Rook demanded.

Vlad could not meet Rook’s gaze.

“Just let her know that I am sorry,” Vlad said.

“Contrition from a vampire,” Rook stated. “How very touching.”

Vlad’s eyes flashed red before he dissolved into smoke, then was gone. Just as well. Rook left the barn and trotted through the field to the van. Climbing in, he handed Beauty the contract.