Maggie for Hire (14 page)

“They want to walk in the sun, which your uncle is working on,” Killian said.  “He wants to return home, and the vampires are gathering up the lions.  They had the jade lion, but they don’t seem to have the diamond lion, yet.  Why bother themselves with you?”

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

I took the pen out of his hand and drew a little stick figure with straight black hair and eyelashes holding an ugly kitty cat, “They think I have it.”

Killian looked me dead in the eye, having the same moment of realization.  He threw himself back on his pillow and stared at the ceiling, “Well, at least the solution is easy.”

“And what is that?”

Mirrored grins crossed our faces.

“Get the diamond lion first,” Killian and I said at the same time.

“Jinx,” said Killian.  We stared at one another in silence before he asked, “Now what?”

“I’m not allowed to talk until I buy you a Coke,” I replied.

“Seems like a fair exchange.”

I threw the pillow at his head.

He caught it and put it on the far side of his bed before taking the remote out of my hands and turning off the light, “Rest.  I promise to wake you in two hours time or prior to Armageddon, whichever comes first.”

You don’t get into my line of work if you don’t learn how to grab sleep whenever it comes.  Sure, the ground was probably more comfortable than the beds we were on and death was literally at our door, but I sandwiched my ears between my remaining pillows and was out.

I woke up with dawn breaking in the room.  Killian had opened up the blinds and was looking outside.

“You were going to wake me,” I said, feeling like a total slacker.

Killian shrugged, “For some reason, they all took off and I fell asleep shortly after you.”

So much for him having the first watch.

I joined him over at the window.  The vamps were definitely gone and the sun was definitely up.

“What shall we do today?” Killian asked.

“I say we check out and find some food,” I replied, looking down at the office, “I’m thinking continental breakfast might not be offered this morning.”

To our surprise, the night manager was still sitting there, still playing his computer games.  The office all around him looked spic and span, though.  Pipistrelle probably got bored and decided to do some cleaning while the guy wasn’t looking.

The night manager was completely underwhelmed that we were checking out.

“Some friends of yours stopped by,” he said.  “We don’t allow unregistered guests in the rooms.”

“We did not let them in,” I replied in earnestness.

“Good,” he said, sliding the receipt towards me.

I raised an eyebrow at the bill and noted to Killian, “I’m adding this to your tab and expect to be reimbursed.”

The night clerk threw me the ol’ fisheye.

“I’m doing a job for him...” I protested.

“Not interested in knowing what kind of ‘job’ you did for him last night.  If the cops come, I don’t want any information.  Don’t come back.  Got it?”

Fantastic.  I was sitting there saving the world from destruction and this jerk-off thought I was hooking in his hotel.

I scrawled out my signature sloppily on the receipt and stalked out of the lobby.  I didn’t even look back as Killian jogged over to keep up.

“You could have protected my honor,” I sulked.

“The lady doth protest too much,” he replied.

“Um, excuse me.  The guy was thinking I was whoring myself out at a $49.99 motel.  You could have set the record straight.”

“It is a better cover than ‘I am a tracker and I am hiding out from vampires’,” Killian replied.

Why did that fucking elf always have to be right?

Chapter 29

We grabbed breakfast in a greasy spoon place that featured a flickering neon “Open” sign and a sparsely populated parking lot.  Their cleaning crew appeared to be of the same ilk of the folks taking care of the motel, but their coffee was good and they spared no butter on their eggs, which is all I ever really ask for in life.  After that, we hiked over to the train and took it to Hollywood and Highland, the heart of the entertainment capital of the world.

I feel so bad for all the tourists that come out to Hollywood expecting to see glam and glitter.  It isn’t really the heart anymore.  More like the appendix.  Sort of smelly and useless and should probably be cut out sometime soon.  Most of the studios migrated over to the Valley because of space and all that is really left of Hollywood are some handprints in the cement and some dirty stars in the sidewalk.  Some big corporations had made noises years ago that they were going to come clean up the city, but ten years later, all we got was a dumb shopping mall and some chain stores no one went to because the parking was so lousy.

The one cool thing that Hollywood has, though, is its subway stations.  The one we exited out of has old movie projector reels hung like acoustic tiles from the ceiling.  The gorgeous art didn’t increase ridership, but it made for some pretty viewing for those willing to hazard traveling underground in earthquake territory.

Father Killarney’s parish was over on Sunset.  It is a nice little place with a healthy attendance of upstanding citizens.

The door to the church was unlocked when we got there.  I opened it up and he was on the altar explaining to a young family the ins and outs of the baptism ceremony.

He acknowledged me by jerking his head towards the rectory.

Killian and I made our way into the back room.  The red carpet was almost as thick as the ancient layers of lead-based white paint on the walls.

There were a couple of chairs and a refrigerator where the sacramental wine was kept.  I knew from history there would also be some soda and bottles of water.

I grabbed some refreshments for Killian and myself while we waited.

You would think that in a church, you’d be safe from the creepy crawlies, but evidently not.

I felt them before I saw them.  It was like a surge of electricity up my back that made the hairs on my arms stand on end.  That little zing is what makes me such a good tracker.

I was on my feet with my daggers in hand before Killian even had a chance to finish swallowing.

I ran over to the sanctuary and flung open the door.

There were four ghouls walking down the aisle.  I was guessing it wasn’t to exchange marital vows.

“Father Killarney!” I called, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible so as not to alert the very nice family with the very nice baby they were about to become lunch for some undead, shape-shifting zombies.  “Father Killarney, I am afraid that your next appointment has arrived.  I’d be happy to see to them.  Perhaps you would like to take this family to your office.”

Father Killarney gave the invading party a glance.  He started to greet the ghouls with a friendly, “Why, good afternoon Jerry and—-”

So evidently the ghouls were able to cross the holy threshold by assuming the shapes of ex-parishioners, tricky ghouls.  But Father Killarney was no fool.  His eyes followed the four limping fellows, who were looking a little worse for wear and definitely in need of a corpse sandwich in order to keep their girlish figures, and did the math.

Father Killarney turned to the family, “I apologize.  I had forgotten the church is being used for a film shoot this afternoon.”  He turned to the ghouls and shouted good-naturedly, “My compliments to the special effects department.”

He turned back to the family and their tiny little bundle of joy and ushered them towards the exit, “Right this way.  If you’ll follow me to the rectory, there is just a little paperwork that needs to be completed.”

He grabbed a crucifix-on-a-stick on his way out.  It is such a multi-purpose kind of religious symbol.  It can be carried up in the processional to start a mass and can also be used to brain bad guys.

As he passed me, he whispered, “Get those ghouls out of my church before I have to re-hallow this ground.”

“Aye aye, captain,” I said.

The moment the door closed, Killian’s collapsible staff was uncollapsed and out in his hands.  He started swinging it in slow even circles before him.

“All warmed up?” I asked.  “Wouldn’t want you to strain a muscle.”

“If I were a baseball player,” he replied, “I would say that I am ready to knock the cover off the ball.”

The ghoul closest to me hissed like a territorial old tomcat.  Oh, he had no idea whose corner he was trying to piss in.

I lifted my knives, “Batter up!”

Downing ghouls is a messy business, but they move pretty slow and aren’t particularly bright.  The first ghoul went down without a fight.  Cut him across the throat, got sprayed by a boatload of goo as he dissolved, and that was that.  Killian wasn’t having too rough a time with his dude, either.  I heard a sound like a watermelon being smashed with a baseball bat and the ghoul was gone.

The other two ghouls turned away fearfully, finally figuring out they had eaten the wrong parishioners at the wrong parish.

Sometimes you gotta teach the forces of darkness a lesson, though, and unfortunately for them, I wasn’t feeling particularly “live and let live” at the moment.  A simple “my bad” was not gonna get them off the hook.

The ghouls took off in a limping jog towards the exit and Killian and I were right after them.

But as we followed them out the door, I was halted in my tracks.

There had to be at least thirty ghouls standing on the steps of the church, waiting for us to come out.  I had never heard of ghouls organizing, but maybe they ate a union leader and started getting some good ideas.

Making a stand against the undead in front of a church in broad daylight while armed with a concealed gun and a couple knives was not my idea of a good time, but we live in an imperfect world and I wasn’t about to let them cross the church’s threshold again, even if that meant getting my hair messed up.

But then one of the ghouls moved towards me and I knew this was a much bigger problem than I had originally assessed.  That ghoul moved fast.  And when it was moving towards me, its eyeballs gave off a weird golden glow and I knew we weren’t dealing with the slow shambling undead.

We had an army of doppelgangers on our hands.

Doppelgangers, for the uninitiated, are very smart.  And they are very fast.  And just to restate, I counted about thirty of them on the steps in broad daylight.

The first one was upon me before I could even warn Killian. 

Dead is dead one way or another and doppelgangers die just the same as other creatures from the Other Side.  I fit a knife between the breastbone and the ribs of the first creature that came at me.  As it fell, its ghoulish glamour disappeared and the doppelganger faded into shadow.

And then all the doppelgangers decided to play a neat little trick and assume the shapes of Killian and me.

“Killian!” I shouted as a guy who looked like the spitting image of Killian attacked.

“What?” responded eight other Killians.  Fantastic.  A horde of Mensa monsters.

“I’m only going to fight versions of myself.  You only fight versions of yourself, got it?”

Which was, of course, an invitation to every Killian doppelganger to attack me and every Maggie doppelganger to go after Killian.  I tried to keep my eyes on him.  It wasn’t too hard.  I knew that whoever was at the center of the mob of Maggie clones was my guy.

The doppelgangers weren’t fighting fair and coming at me one at a time, though.  It was a free for all brawl and my only goal was not to get stuck at the bottom of the dog pile.

I got a knock to the jaw that had me seeing stars and I’m sure loosened a couple teeth.  I was stabbing anything that moved.  I could hear some tourists close by comment, “Oh, they must be shooting a movie.”

I just wish we had a director somewhere to shout “cut”.

My knuckles were bloody and I know for a fact if it wasn’t for all the adrenaline, I would have collapsed long ago.  I caught a punch to the eye that sent me reeling into the arms of another doppelganger.  She tried to hold me down so that the other me could run me through, but I spun her around and felt her catch the knife meant for me.

Enough with the stabbing.  Things were starting to get complicated.  I could tell that the doppelgangers were starting to lose track over who was who.  I pulled out my gun and started firing point blank.  I heard the tourists start screaming.

“Just special effects, folks!”

I don’t think they believed me.

I felt something crack across the back of my skull.  I staggered to the ground and then rolled as quick as I could to my back, kicking with my feet as the doppelganger tried to land on top of me.  I raised my gun and fired off a round straight into her heart.  The kickback jarred my aching bones.  It felt like all my cartilage had disappeared and there was no cushion in my joints.  Another gal came at me and I fired again.  And another and I squeezed off another shot.

And then all was quiet.  I could hear sirens in the distance.  I guess the tourists weren’t buying my Hollywood bullshit.

All the doppelgangers were gone, but Killian... ah god.  Killian was lying prone in a puddle, face dripping with mud and gutter water.

“Crap,” I muttered as I drug my aching body over to his.  God, it just hurt to move.  It was like I had an army of mutant bunny rabbits kicking out a drum beat inside my head.  I pushed his shoulder and rolled him over to his back, hoping he hadn’t drowned in two inches of liquid.  I couldn’t feel a pulse and he wasn’t breathing.

“Come on, you bastard.”

I beat out five paces on his heart and

lowered my lips to his.  Another five paces.  Another two breaths.

He came to life with a gasp like someone had punched him in the stomach, coughing and rolling onto his side.

His eyes were dull, but he was alive.

“I want to get you to a hospital.”

“We’re on the wrong side,” he mumbled.

Fuck him and his green elvish blood.

“We’ll go back.”

He gripped my arm softly, “I’m fine.  We have to find your uncle.”

“I’m not having the queen of the elfin empire knocking at my door at 2AM because I let you talk me out of getting medical attention.”