The Beast Within (3 page)

A really nice looking, nice guy
.

A few minutes later Tony pulled the car up to a curb outside a row of derelict warehouses. The street was vacant, save for a police barricade horseshoeing one entrance. Tony shut off the car without a word and climbed out. Aaron followed. He wanted to say something to erase the damage he had inflicted, but Tony had already ducked under the yellow tape. Aaron pulled the kit bag from the back of the car and followed Tony inside.

Dust motes danced in the dim light cast by frosted windows set high on the walls. The only other source of light in the room came from the golden glow of the Thurisaz cast onto the concrete floor. It was a mystic rune of protection and Kapre Security’s personal sigil, a visual warning that was triggered whenever an otherworldly presence had appeared and was acting against the universally adopted behavioural guidelines set forth by the British Anglo-Demonic Pact of 1864. Cops saw the Thurisaz, hightailed it and called Kapre.

“Look at this,” Tony called as he squatted over a dark area on the floor.

Aaron came closer, but he didn’t need to look to know what it was Tony had found. He could smell it from where he stood. Sulfur. Trace amounts, but enough for his keen sense of smell to pick up. Fear bubbled in his gut. Images triggered by the scent swirled in his mind. A tugging sensation encircled his gut and pulled him toward the ashen pile. The floor wobbled. He disguised the buckling of his knees with kneeling next to Tony. His partner glanced at him, clearly concerned. Aaron waved it off. Tony nodded and pointed at the ashen substance smeared across the floor.

“Brimstone,” Tony said. “Fresh.”

Aaron pulled in his focus.
Just the details. Look at the particles, not the bigger picture.
The tug in his stomach eased a little. He pulled a flashlight from the kit bag and trained the light on the stain.

“Not all fresh.” Aaron pointed at a section of the mark. “Here, and here, you can see faint brush marks etched into the surface.”

“Someone tried to sweep up brimstone?” Tony leaned in closer to inspect. His hair brushed Aaron’s cheek. “Is anyone that stupid?” He turned to look at Aaron as he spoke. His face was only inches away.

“Not tried. Did.” Aaron pulled his gaze from Tony’s with difficulty. Fortunately the lighting was dim, so Tony likely could not see the burning heat that traveled from Aaron’s groin to rest in his face. “Like I said, those marks are etched into the surface, carved into an older stain. There is some residual powder here that’s fresh, as you pointed out, but not nearly enough to be even the by-product of a hamster opening a portal.”

“You think something large passed through?” Tony asked. He pulled the bag from Aaron’s shoulder and unzipped it. As he fished around inside he said, “There are lots of nasty visitors that are rodent-sized and smaller.”

“Yes, but this older residue surface area is much larger.”

“And most invasions start small—preparation spells and whatnot—and end up big, with the arrival of whatever entity has been summoned.”

“Exactly.”

“So why is the fresher mark smaller?”

“I don’t know. Strengthening the original summoning spell? Reversing it?” Aaron shrugged. “Whatever the intent, I doubt it worked. “

“Let’s take a sample to the lab and see what we’re looking for today.”

Aaron scraped a small amount of the powder with a thick steel implement. The sulfurous odor strengthened. The rotten egg stench held softer notes of cinnamon, dragon’s blood and earth. He made a note of the scent. Each mystical being’s power had a distinct smell. The more palatable notes in the powder comprised the signature of the one who cast the spell. It was all but buried in the noxious powder, but his sensitive nose had little trouble filtering out the aromatic fingerprint. If, after using magic, the caster were ever to cross paths with him, he would catch the same scent. He dropped the powdery contents into a mystically charged pouch. Even though he trusted his sense of smell over the lab geeks any day, it wouldn’t hurt to have forensics run a profile on the powder in case they could match the residue to an already documented entity. The end of the scraper began to glow. He sealed the pouch and dropped it into the lead lined kit bag and discarded the scraper a good distance away from the evidence. Red embers consumed the metal and turned it to ash in seconds.

“Hopefully we’ll get a lead from this.” Tony shifted on his heels, clearly anxious to be up and doing something.

“We already have one.” Aaron pointed again at the brush marks. “Remember? Someone
swept
this residue away.”

“Right…” His partner stopped, clearly at a loss how to tie the information together.

“So what does that tell you?” Aaron moved his extended finger to indicate the ashen remains of the scraper.

“Good broom?” Tony ventured.

“Very good broom. Metal bristles. Durable. Probably out-of-dimension materials, considering the depth of the etch marks.”

“Few individuals in town that can produce a broom heavy duty enough to sweep up brimstone.”

“Maybe we should head in, check the files,” Aaron suggested. He looked at Tony. He was an all right enough guy. Smart, not as cocky on the scene as he was in the office. Braven was right. A good agent. “Look, Tony. About what I said in the car. I’m sorry. I’m on edge today, clearly. It’s not an excuse, but—”

“Ellison is a jackass,” Tony supplied. “And I was showing off for you. Not the best welcome.” Tony smiled and extended his hand. “So, we’ll start over. I’m Tony Harper, your new partner. How would you like to go shake some trees and see what falls out?”

“Aaron Marvell. Nice to meet you.” Aaron met Tony’s hand with his own and it was like a shock of electricity bolted through him at the touch. “Let’s take a drive.”

As they walked back to the car Aaron couldn’t concentrate on any of the morning’s details save one.

He was showing off for me.

Chapter Five

Laundry

“So, where are we going?” Aaron asked as Tony guided the car through the street.

“To the Laundromat.”

“Laundromat? That’s where we’ll find our broom salesman?”

“No.” Tony steered out of Grange’s city center and took several turns down dingy one-way streets cast into twilight by the flanking buildings. “Remember, we’re just shaking trees right now.”

Tony stopped ahead of a street parking space in front of a ragged building called Shirley’s Swish-n-Suds. Tony flung his hand in the direction of Aaron’s head. It smelled of fresh soap, and an underlying hint of salt and musk. It had been hot in the warehouse. Aaron’s heart tripped as he imagined that hand, glistening with sweat, cupping the base of his skull, using it to guide him closer, pull him in for a prolonged kiss. Aaron quickly shifted to conceal his hardening cock.

“I wasn’t going to hit you.” Tony grinned at his reaction. He locked his hand behind Aaron’s headrest and looked back to guide the car into the parking space.

“I know,” Aaron replied, glad to make use of the cover Tony’d provided. “Just reflex.”

“I like a partner with good reflexes,” Tony quipped.

Aaron watched Tony climb from the car. That was three times in one day Tony had flirted with him.

Had he?

Aaron joined Tony at the curb. He studied his partner’s expression, but was met with only the same chipper demeanor.

He hadn’t.

“As long as those reflexes don’t include gagging.” Tony winked and started toward the humidity fogged Laundromat door.

Well, fuck me. He had.
Aaron shook his head as he followed his partner. He scanned the V of his torso, the perfectly rounded ass punctuating it, and shook his head against the next, very unprofessional thought that surfaced.
Seriously. Please, fuck me.

Tony opened the door and a blast of rank air hit Aaron full in the face. The atmosphere hung thick with mildew and decay. He covered his nose with his arm, fighting back a retch. So, that’s what Tony had been talking about with gagging. Not sucking cock, but disgusting demon rot.

“What are you doing in here?” a woman screeched from someplace distant and echoic. “Out. Get out.”

The sound of claws against glass brought Aaron to the washing machines against the opposite wall. A woman—or a creature somewhat featured like a woman—crouched inside the machine, her knees, hands, and face pressed against the dewed window.

“There you are, Mildred,” Tony said brightly. “I thought you’d be in number forty-two today.”

“Occupied,” the woman spat.

Aaron glanced over at the washer in question. Something lumpy and brown stared out at them with overlarge eyes. An expression akin to a scowl worked its way into the shapeless tissue folds. All through the Laundromat the other machines gently sloshed filthy water around glaring, amorphous masses of life forms.

“I’m looking for Qi. Seen him around?”

“Get out.”

“He’s a person of interest in a recent event and we’d like to talk to him about his broomcraft. Since you know everything about everyone that goes bump in the night—or day—I daresay you could point us in the right direction.”

“I told you to leave, Kapre murderer. We don’t help those who hunt us.”

“You do today,” Tony said with a grin. “Because it would be a shame for your clientele to get wind of Kapre employees using your facilities.” Tony raised his voice so everything within earshot could clearly hear his words.

“That’s why you need to leave now,” the woman shrieked and banged on the glass. Up close she looked like a rank, sodden sponge, the many crannies in her flesh filled with all sorts of foul matter. “You can’t search here without an order from your main office. I know my rights.”

“True enough.” Tony plucked a cup off a nearby bench and dumped the contents down the front of his shirt. A viscous liquid that may have once been coffee—or could have been something entirely worse—soaked into the fabric. “But I’m here as a customer. I have a really bad stain I need to get out.”

Tony stripped the shirt from his torso, revealing heavy pecs, a well-defined six-pack and a pair of external obliques so precisely sculpted they might as well have been twin neon arrows pointing toward his dick. Aaron realized he was staring, and glanced away, only to find Mildred regarding him with wry amusement.

“Which washer is free?” Tony asked. He started over to a bank of dryers at his side. “This one?” He opened the lid, releasing a waft of foul warm air. Whatever was inside shrieked.

“Leave ‘em alone. What do you want?”

“Just to wash my shirt. Or, if you’d rather I take my business elsewhere, tell me where to find Qi.”

“He doesn’t wander around town, shopping at grocery stores and getting his nails done.” Mildred’s face crumpled in a scowl so deep it looked like she was wringing herself out.

“No? Then, how? A word of power?”

Mildred’s silence confirmed Tony’s guess.

“What word summons him, Mildred?”

Mildred pressed her face against the glass and bared teeth like rotten sticks.

“Well, let’s see where I can put this shirt, then.” Tony moved through the aisles, popping open washer doors, lifting lids. The sounds of intense disquietude filled the Laundromat.

Mildred fixed her furious stare on Aaron as if faulting him for the entire matter. He returned her scrutiny, a memory playing at the edges of his consciousness. He had seen a similar muddy countenance before. It came to him in an instant. During his first year he had been sent on a termination assignment in the Bell Swamps. His team had tracked the offending demon for days through the forest and muck. One day he had seen them, eyes like Mildred’s gazing up at him from the ooze.

‘Selart demons
,’ his mentor had told him. ‘
Familial, self-protecting and industrious if needs be. Not worth bothering with, though. They don’t mess with humans.’

“Why are you here?” Aaron asked her.

“You’re the one trespassing.” Mildred huffed. A patch of condensation obscured her face, then melted away.

“You lost your habitat, didn’t you? Had to improvise. Found some cozy apartments where you could individually regulate your environment to your liking?” Mildred did not deny his theory, so he continued, “You kept your family together, the way a matriarch is supposed to. What would they do without you?”

Outperformed, Tony stopped meddling with the machines and turned to watch their interaction. All eyes were on Aaron. He pulled from his pocket the object Tony had slipped in there at op-tech. It was round, the size of a Ping-Pong ball, and chalky white.

“You Selart can adapt to almost any living condition, I’ve heard.” Aaron held up the ball.

Tony gave a sharp intake of breath, then covered it with a laugh. His initial reaction was enough for Aaron to take note of the warning it held
.
He shifted it so he gripped it more securely.

“Anything but salt water habitats,” Aaron finished as he yanked open the door.

Mildred screeched and clawed at the opening in a vain effort to seal it against his assault. Aaron drew back his hand as if to toss in the object. Tony was at his back, gripping his shirt, ready to tear him away should he release whatever danger rested inside the innocuous-seeming object.

“Messifluotitious!” Mildred screamed. “Meditate on your intent, light seven black candles and say the word, then call on Qi. He will come if he wills it.”

At her surrender the entire Laundromat came alive. A din of voices shouted the word of power. Washers rocked on their legs. Dryers rattled against the bolts holding them to the walls.

“We’d better go,” Tony said, lowering Aaron’s arm. He covered Aaron’s hand with his own and pressed his fingers tighter around the ball. It was just the two of them in that moment, hands together, eyes locked.

The doors of a nearby washer blew off its hinges. A mass of brown ooze puddled out. It coalesced as it hit the floor, forming a taloned foot well over three feet in length. The ooze continued to pour forth, forming a dripping leg. Two arms, each easily the size of a human, slid out next. They latched onto the faces of the adjacent machines and pulled. With a grotesque pop, an elongated head appeared. The creature pulled its other leg free and stood erect, its head grazing the fluorescent lights.