Maggie for Hire (6 page)

“Your boss has a sick sense of humor,” I said, helping him to his feet and brushing the dirt off his tweed suit jacket.

I took a long drag off of my water and then fixed the fat man in my gaze, “Okay.  Tell me how you knew my father.”

“Your father aided me by transporting sensitive artifacts to private collectors between worlds.  He was an ‘independent contractor’ of sorts.”

“My father was a tracker,” I corrected.

“No,” said the fat man chewing on the soggy end of his cigar, “your father was a smuggler.”

“You’re a liar,” I said.

“Believe or do not believe, it matters not to me.  But it is the truth.”

“I was with him on every run for the past ten years,” I said, leaning forward.

“The antiquities were small baubles - trifles, really.  They would not have been noticed.”

“Really?  And what were these tiny treasures exactly?”

“Vampire relics.”

That, I have to say, knocked me on my ass.

“Vampire relics.  My dad worked in vampire relics?”

The fat man’s eyes were beady and glinted with greasy greed, “You would not happen to be here today to follow in your father’s footsteps?”

I gritted my teeth and managed to spit out sweetly, “I’m afraid my current contractual obligations have me all tied up at the moment.”

“Tis a pity,” said the fat man.  “Well, if it soothes your delicate sensibilities, your father would not take any of my larger jobs - only the vampire relics.  In fact, he was the one that contacted me.  A very wealthy private collector had asked him to keep his head up.  Anything I was able to get my hands on, he was interested in.  Of course you know taking relics to the Other Side weakens the vampires’ strength here on Earth, which was a win for me.  Profit and peace, all wrapped up in a tidy bundle tied with a 24 karat string.”

So that’s why the vampires were after me.  The pieces were starting to fall into place.  It was because of this jerk and a burgeoning bank account that I’m sure was as cushy as he.

“Any idea what you stole that might have gotten them worked up?” I asked icily.

“No idea, but if I hear of anything,” he waved the little piece of paper with my phone number on it, “I shall give you a ring.”

I had had it up to my neckguarded chin, “YOU’RE THE REASON the entire vampire race is trying to kill me and YOU’LL GIVE ME A CALL???”

The fat guy held up his palms in apology, “It is a hazard of my trade.  Your father was a valuable asset in my operation, though, and I do not wish for us to part enemies.  Your uncle’s name always seemed to come up when... how shall I say... a ‘trade’... had gone sour.  I am not the forgiving type and it would please me to be able to assist you in tracking him down... for justice.”

“Well, maybe I’m not the forgiving type either and I don’t want to work with the guy who has brought the whole world crashing around my ears,” I pointed out.

“Quite understandable.  But perhaps you will allow me to secure you a brownie from our bakery in apology.”

“Does it have nuts?” I shouted, “Because that’s what you are to think that I can be bought off with chocolaty goodness!”

Killian’s face cringed.

“What?”

“He did not mean that kind of brownie.”

“What???”  Then realization dawned and I felt like an ass.  “Oh.  A brownie.”

“Cleaners.  Cooks.  Ears to the ground,” said the fat man.

“Oh.  That’s different,” I said.  “That would be... acceptable.  And I will take a regular cake-like brownie, too.”

Killian collapsed his head in his hand.

“I’m hungry.”

And that was that.

I let Killian drive as I nommed the brownie.  I also tried not to pay much attention to the merry little, one-foot tall man with pointy shoes buckled into the back middle seat.  His hands were folded happily on his belly and he looked like he had never been so content as to sit in the back of a busted Honda Civic.

I couldn’t take it.

“I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“Pipistrelle!”

The brownie’s voice sounded like a cartoon character rolling on speed.

“Would you like some of my... chocolate cake square...?”

His eyes lit up like Christmas, “Many thanks!”

He took the half I offered him, which was the size of his head and chewed it slowly, eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

I wiped my hands on my jeans.

“So, Killian, let’s review what we learned today.  My dad was a vampire relic smuggler.  My Uncle Ulrich is currently IN the smuggling business.  The vampires want me dead because something was stolen that shouldn’t have been stolen.  And we are also responsible for a small man that should probably be buckled into a car seat.”

“It is farther along the path than we were yesterday.”

“I can help!” the brownie in the back piped up.  I turned around.  He had a big chocolate mustache from one ear to the next.

I pulled out a Kleenex and passed it back, “You’ve got a little something on your cheek.”

Pipistrelle wiped his face and wadded up the tissue, “I could find your Uncle Ulrich for you!”

We were sort of at a dead end, so I gave a shrug, “Sure.  You do that.”

The brownie started unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Wait!  Pipistrelle, wait!  You don’t have to go now.”

He climbed up on the co-pilot console and patted my shoulder, “It is my pleasure.”

His fat little hand moved towards the door handle.

“WAIT!  Killian, pull over the car.  Pipistrelle, we are stopping the car.  Don’t get out until the car... PIPISTRELLE!”

I saw his little body tumble out the side into the gutter.  Killian pulled the car to a screeching halt.  I hopped out the door to see if the poor little brain injured Pipistrelle was okay only to see him skipping merrily along, dodging sticks and stray leaves.

“Pipistrelle!  Are you all right?” I shouted after him.

He gave me a friendly little salute.

“How will we find you?”

“I shall find you!” he squeaked before running into a hedge and was gone.

I climbed back into the car, “And here I was going to get him to do my laundry tonight.  Well,”  I popped open my  glove compartment and pulled out a manila folder.  “Guess while he does our reconnaissance work, we could round up the ghoul and keep my cover intact.”

Killian sighed and took the folder from me, knowing he didn’t have much room to maneuver on this matter.  He flipped through the sheets in between reading street signs, “A ghoul.  How do you propose tracking him when he can take on any shape?”

“Ghouls are going to look for the easiest nosh they can find, which, according to the deeply scientific studies of MacKay and MacKay, usually means a funeral,” I said in my best second grade teacher voice.

Killian looked at me like I was the insensitive clod that I actually was, “We are going to start crashing funerals?”

“Yep.”

Killian looked at the folder, “Maybe we can just stick with tracking down your uncle.”

“It’ll be fun.  A little garlic necklace for you.  A little magic rod for me.”  I looked at him sharply, “Don’t say it.”

He shut his mouth with a snap and a grin.

We sat in the car in silence.

“I have a magic rod.”

“Shut it!”

“I could consider it as payment of the favor you owe me,” he offered.

“Don’t!” I said, holding up my finger in warning.

“Although, you probably would end up owing me at the end.  We could keep track.”

“Elf!”

He held up his hands in acquiescence, “There is no need for favors to be an unpleasant experience.”

“Listen, you.  You had your chance to name your favor and you chose saving the world instead of saving the world in your pants.  Next time, bargain better.”

He gave me a wink, “That I shall, that I shall...”

Chapter 13

So, Killian wasn’t completely off.  Ghouls can be darn tricky to spot.  That is, they are until the life force they’ve been chowing on starts to run out, in which case they get a little gooey around the edges as things break down.

Killian and I were on our fourth memorial service of the day, chosen at random from the obituary notices and I was starting to feel a little discouraged.  We hung towards the back of the funeral procession.  I knew the ghoul would have enough instinct to stick around until the living types disappeared.  Ghouls aren’t particularly smart, but every scavenger figures out you’ve gotta wait for the lions to finish if you want to survive to your next meal.

Killian was looking rather dashing in his black turtleneck and jacket.  Set off those baby blues of his.  Just a quick trip through Austin’s closet and we had ourselves a funeral appropriate genuine Armani knock off.  At least I hoped it was a knock off, because I didn’t know if dry cleaners would charge extra for ghoul stains.  I had picked a tasteful basic black suit from Mindy’s things.  A dress would have been more appropriate, but it’s hard taking down the undead when you’re concerned about flashing your girl bits.

I touched Killian’s sleeve and jerked my head away from the burial site.  We walked to the far corner of the graveyard, leaving the widow to say her goodbyes and let the coffin be lowered into what, if I could help it, would be the guy’s final resting place.

The drizzle was starting to come down and black umbrellas popped up everywhere.  Of course it would have to be raining.  Killian and I stood behind a tree.  He seemed strangely quiet.

“It is a shame humans do not live for long.”

“Long enough,” I replied.  Except for perhaps one.  Dad could have stuck around for a bit longer and I wouldn’t have minded at all.

We watched as the mourners paid their last respects and left arm in arm.  The backhoe started covering up the stiff, but then the operator got a phone call.  He turned off his machine and hopped off, walking away only halfway through the job.

“This is it.”

Dusk had started to fall.  Crap. Why couldn’t these little beasties choose warm days on Tahitian beaches instead of muddy drizzle in an ever increasingly dark cemetery?  Battling things out with the forces of darkness was always trickier when it was dark.  Home court advantage and all.

“It’s him.”

Killian looked at me like I was nuts.

“It is the pastor.”

The guy had a limp and was oozing grey tar out of his black pant leg.  Unless he had come down with a rare case of flesh eating Ebola, he had an ectoplasm problem.

“I can’t believe he’s coming out while the undertaker is on a call.”

I opened up my purse and pulled out the garlic necklaces.  I looped one of them over Killian’s like he was touching down in Hawaii.

“I thought you said they went after easy targets.”

I shrugged, “Sometimes, they can’t wait.  If they haven’t eaten in awhile, they’ll take whatever is on the buffet table.”

Killian’s shoulders shook with the heebie-jeebies, “Ick.”

I couldn’t help but grinning.  The elf was loosening up a bit.

I pulled out my magical stunning rod.  I was going to try and bring back this ghoul in one piece.  Bodies with holes in them tended to leak in my trunk and I couldn’t afford to get my car detailed again this month.

“Follow my lead,” I said as I bent over in a crouch and ran to the first headstone.  I wanted to make sure the ghoul didn’t have a chance to run.  Killian was right behind me on his whisper silent feet.  If I ever got a boon on him, I was ordering me some of those magical elfin shoes.  Maybe I’d just see if he’d give me a pair for my birthday.  I looked over at him.  I hoped I lasted until my next birthday.

I ran to the next gravestone and ducked behind a creepy concrete angel.  I heard the pastor drop into the open grave with a squishy sound.  He was decaying fast.  I nodded my head to Killian to come around the other side and I rushed the hole in the ground.

There he was, the ghoul, ripping at the coffin lid like a kid trying to break into a cereal box for the prize at the bottom.

“Now what, pray tell, are you doing?”

He looked up at me and hissed.  I had to fish around the grave a bit with my rod, but I got him.  I huffed on my nails and buffed ‘em on my shirt, “Just like that.”

And then the coffin burst open and the dead man jumped out.

Oh, he was dead all right.

But he was hungry.  He grabbed that ghoul and sunk his fangs into that guy’s neck so fast.

Instinctively, I reached up to my neck and felt the reassuring protection of my neckguard.

“Come on, Maggie.  Do not allow him to finish feeding...”

I hated that my hands were shaking as I grabbed my silver stake from my boot top.  I hurtled it right at the guy’s back and it pierced it like a knitting needle in bubble wrap.  He was too young a vamp to even know what killed him... you know... for the second time.

“Just like...”  I suddenly became aware of a hissing sound, “...that.”

I turned, edging my way to stand back to back with Killian.  Vamps were dropping out of the goddamned trees.  I counted eight in total.  And my stake was conveniently stuck in the back of the least threatening of all of them.

“Jesus.”

“Your god will not help you now,” one of the undead spat at me.

“I was talking figuratively, asshole,” I snapped.  If it wasn’t enough I was probably going to be dead in about five minutes time, it super sucked that I was about to be deaded by a bunch of dunces.

“What is the plan?” asked Killian.

“Marry rich and live on a yacht...” I muttered under my breath.

“Get us out of this, Maggie.”

I scanned the group.  They were trying to circle around us for the attack.

“Back up slowly towards the church.  Okay, back up not so slowly and more quick like to the church,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth.

“We can hear you, human,” hissed the vampire.

I gave him a sarcastic little smile, “Do you think I don’t know that?”

I actually didn’t know that, but it was nice of him to tell me.

“Killian, here’s the bad news.  They want us dead.  My big sharpie thing is down in the grave.”

“I will retrieve it.”

And then he jumped in the hole to tug it out of the vampire.  That’s when the whole crew of suckers rushed me.