Blood Ghast Blues Page 4

  “Damn,” I said. “Gnome smackdown, Special Agent.”

  Harper nudged me and I shut up.

  “Or,” Flip continued. “Unless your need was to banish a blood ghast. It takes considerably more energy to work the hex in reverse, but if you had the right practitioners in place you could use the head to stop a blood ghast from coming into this dimension.”

  Click, click, click. Pieces fell into place.

  Neither Harper nor Lassa looked in my direction, but I could feel their tension ratchet up a few notches. The kobold head that was in Chappy’s Dim box hadn’t been used to summon the blood ghast. We all knew that because it had been locked away safe and sound in the Dim for weeks.

  And it took those weeks for whomever had hired Chappy originally to find a new kobold head.

  But why did the One Guy want the head so badly? To do his own summoning? Or was he, and it hurt like hell to say, was he trying to stop the summoning? If that was the case then he had a reason considerably more selfish than for the good of Asheville. He’s not a public servant kind of guy. Selfless is not in his vocabulary.

  “When the head is used, what happens to it?” I asked. “Shouldn’t there be a head here somewhere?”

  “Oh, heavens no,” Flip answered. “The blood ghast would devour it to maintain its corporeal form long enough to wait for victims to arrive. Once the victims arrive, and are penetrated to create, well, this, then it is free to move on to the task it was summoned for.”

  “Which would be?” Ducheré asked. There was a mix of respect and disdain on her face as she stared down at the gnome. “You seem to know so much, please tell me the purpose of all of this violence.”

  “How would I know that?” Flip replied.

  “You already suspected there was a blood ghast involved,” Ducheré said. “You weren’t in the least surprised when you arrived here. So, please, expound on your theories. I assume you have one. Perhaps you know who may be involved?”

  “I, uh, well,” Flip stuttered as he looked over at me.

  Goddammit, Flip.

  “Mr. Lawter,” Ducheré said, switching her focus to me. “This is where you come in.”

  “Mr. Lawter, please do not answer any questions,” Flip said.

  “Not going to,” I said. “Listen, Special Agent, I see what you were trying to do here. You said mine and Harper’s names were in that old file and you were hoping there was a connection between that case and this one. Except that’s not true, is it?”

  “Oh, it is true,” Ducheré replied. “Your names are in that file.”

  “Yeah, I’m not disputing that,” I said. “I’m disputing the reason you wanted us to see this. Hoping for some shock value so we’d spill whatever beans you think we’re holding.”

  “Mr. Lawter, please stop talking,” Flip said.

  “Yeah, you’re goddamn right I’m going to stop talking, Flip,” I said. “Because I’m leaving.” I spread my hands. “Your mess, not mine. See ya.”

  I turned and followed the hex lines to the stairs. Harper and Lassa were right behind. The two guards at the top of the stairs spun about and blocked our way, but Ducheré cleared her throat and they moved aside. We were down those stairs and out of that building as fast as we could move without looking like we were fleeing the scene. Poor Flip struggled to keep up.

  When we hit the sidewalk, Willitz caught sight of us and walked our way.

  “Fuck off, detective,” I snapped. “I don’t like being played. Especially not by someone that I said I’d do a favor for just this morning.”

  We were across the street and ducking back into the side alley before he could think to respond.

  “Chase?” Harper asked.

  “They know I hid that head for Chappy,” I said. “They also know the One Guy is involved. Ten to one they have him stashed in an interrogation room right now.”

  “So? Screw that guy,” Lassa said. “Let him rot in that room, dude.”

  “I plan to,” I replied. “I also plan on finding out why he’s there, why he wants that kobold head, and why my ass is involved in all of this.”

  “Our asses,” Harper said. “I’m in that old file too.”

  “And we’re a team, so my ass is involved,” Lassa said. “And it is quite the ass.”

  “Flip? You coming back to the office too?” I asked as I looked down at the gnome.

  He had his phone out and was calling someone but he answered me. “Oh, most certainly. This is considerably worse than Ms. Sullivan thought it might get. Considerably worse.”

  “Considerably worse than an entire hotel floor coated in blood and covered by exploded corpses?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, shit . . .”

  5.

  “MR. LAWTER,” TERESA Sullivan, our company’s attorney, grumbled as we came in through our office door. Like the rest of the lawyers in her firm, Teresa was a banshee. Banshees were incredibly good at law and except for Earth, they had cornered the legal market in pretty much every dimension. “I was hoping to go a day before seeing you, yet Flip’s alarm at what he witnessed has killed that hope.”

  “You got here fast,” I said as I walked past her semi-corporeal form and went to my desk. I plopped down and yanked open a drawer as I hunted for something to eat.

  “Here you go, Chase,” Sharon said as she set a large tray of cheese, crackers, and fruit before me. “I have sandwiches on the way, since Thai food is not happening, but this should tide you over. It’s everything we had in the break room fridge.”

  “Thanks, Shar,” I replied. “I appreciate it.”

  “Me too,” Harper said as she grabbed a hunk of Gouda and popped it into her mouth.

  “Is that Gruyère? I love Gruyère,” Lassa said as he pilfered from the pile as well.

  “Mitts off, assholes,” I snapped, hunching over the plate. “I’m the guy that worked the Dim earlier, not you.”

  Speaking of working the Dim.

  All eyes went to Chappy, who was still sitting in one of the waiting area chairs and trying to look as small as possible. He flinched under our collective glare.

  “What?” he asked.

  “What? You have got to be kidding me,” I replied around a mouthful of cheese and crackers.

  “Chase, please chew first,” Sharon said. She’d gone to the mini-fridge by her desk and fetched a small jar of pig’s blood, which she was slowly sipping through a straw. “Talking with your mouth full is disgusting.”

  I let the irony of that statement go.

  “You don’t know who hired you to deliver that kobold head?” I asked Chappy.

  “No, man, I don’t,” he replied. “You gotta believe me.”

  “I don’t gotta do shit, asshole. I especially don’t have to give you that kobold head back.”

  “It’s mine, Lawter! I have a receipt for the Dim key you gave me! I give you that key and you have to give me the head! That’s how it works, Lawter!”

  “Oh, you’re giving me the key, but I’m not giving you the head. You haven’t paid the balance of your invoice, Chappy. The bill is due and you’re behind. Contract null and void, you little piece of shit.” I held out my hand. “Key. Now.”

  “No,” Chappy said, and crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child. “Not gonna give it to you.”

  “You will if you want to keep those crossed arms of yours. Lassa? You in a tearing-off mood?”

  “Sure, dude,” Lassa replied.

  “There is no need for that,” Teresa said. “I helped write all client clauses in your contracts.”

  “I ain’t never signed no fucking contract,” Chappy said, petulant child act dialed up to eleven.

  “You did not sign, but you may want to read your receipt, Mr. Reginue,” Teresa said as s
he smiled. That smile was so cold I could feel the air in the office drop by a few degrees. Literally. “By accepting possession of that receipt, you agreed to all terms and conditions of doing business with Black Box Inc. Your default on payment means the key now belongs to Black Box Inc. and you will relinquish control of it this second.”

  “Or what?” Chappy asked. “Huh? You can’t rip my arms off because I’m late on my payment. Magic shit or no magic shit, that’s still assault.”

  “Yes, well, perhaps I can give you a more convincing argument, then,” Teresa said.

  Her normal slight glow became bright blue. Those flowing robes and gowns she wore billowed out until they filled the entire waiting area. Her light grew brighter and brighter, so bright we had to shield our eyes.

  Except for Chappy. He stared at Teresa with rapt attention, his eyes so big I thought they’d pop out of his head and roll to the lawyer’s feet. Then he began to cringe, shake, shudder, and finally cry out.

  “Stop!” he screamed as he slapped his hands over his ears. “Please! Jesus fucking Christ! I’ll give you the key, just stop wailing at me!”

  “Well, that is nice to know,” Sharon said as Teresa began to grow dim again. “Our hex barrier blocks banshee wails. It was designed to, but it is good to see it in practice.”

  “Would’ve sucked for us if it didn’t,” Harper said.

  “Totally,” Lassa agreed.

  Chappy stood up on shaky legs and fished the Dim key out of his back pocket. He held it out.

  “Thank you, Mr. Reginue,” Teresa said as she took the key. “Next time, take a lawyer’s advice when it is given freely.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I will, sure,” Chappy said and collapsed back into his chair. “I’m glad to be rid of the fucking thing. The One Guy will be here any second. Not my problem anymore.”

  “The One Guy isn’t coming,” Teresa said. “But, you are correct. It is no longer your problem. You will be leaving now.”

  “Hold the hell on. You’re letting him leave?” I said. “The scumbag knows more than he’s told us.”

  “I agree, Mr. Lawter,” Teresa said. “Which is why Flip will accompany him back to my firm where two of my associates will question him until they are quite positive they have gotten every single ounce of information possible.”

  “What?” Chappy asked.

  “Best not to resist, Mr. Reginue,” Teresa said. “Go with Flip here or you and I will have another conversation.”

  “No, I’m good,” Chappy said and got warily to his feet. “No need to chat no more. I’m going.”

  He stuck to the edge of the waiting area, skirting the space in front of Teresa, then followed the gnome out of the office.

  “I could go with,” Harper said. “Make sure the prick doesn’t try anything on Flip.”

  “Flip is more than capable of taking care of himself against a human like Chappy Reginue,” Teresa said. “Or against anything else that might be interested in the reprobate.”

  “Reprobate. Good word,” Lassa snickered.

  “How much more do you think Chappy knows?” I asked.

  “In all honesty, probably not much,” Teresa said. “Sharon filled me in on everything he said and I highly doubt a piece of trash like him would ever be told more than what he needed to know to make a delivery. The fact he botched the delivery is proof of that.”

  “Then why question him?”

  “To make him squirm and to make anyone watching his comings and goings curious,” Teresa said. She held out the Dim key and Sharon hurried over to take it. “Keep that very safe. If a blood ghast is on the loose in Asheville then we will need that kobold head very soon to banish the beast back to its dimension.”

  Sharon gave me the key and I opened a small drawer in my desk where there were several other stray Dim keys. I was the only one that could open the drawer and I was the only one that knew what all of those keys went to. I had a couple of contingency plans in place. Just in case.

  “You said the One Guy isn’t coming here,” I said. “That special agent said something similar. What’s up?”

  “I am not one hundred percent sure, so I would rather not speculate,” Teresa said. “What I can say is the One Guy is in the DEX’s custody currently. For what reason, I do not know. I have my paralegals working on the details now. I will let you know what I find out.”

  “Um, and, how much will that information cost us?” Sharon asked.

  “Not as much as you fear. A blood ghast is a dangerous creature to have on the loose. It is in my firm’s interest to see it captured and banished. But we all must share in the cost of that endeavor.”

  “Must we?” Sharon asked. Teresa gave her a blank look. Sharon sighed. “Yes, yes, of course we must.”

  “My job is done here for now,” Teresa said as she flattened the front of her gown and gave us all a smile that thankfully didn’t freeze our hearts in our chests. She nodded at Sharon. “I will send you the invoice in the morning for work done today.”

  “Wait? That’s it?” I asked. “You aren’t going to tell us the rest of what you know?”

  “I know what you know, Mr. Lawter,” Teresa said. “Unless you want to enlist my firm officially, and pay for all of the investigative charges, then you will need to figure much of this out on your own.”

  “No, no, don’t send an invoice. We are more than capable of handling our end,” Sharon said. She gave me a sharp look. “Right, Chase?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Thanks for swinging by, I guess.”

  “My pleasure,” Teresa said then left.

  We watched her glowing form through the office windows until she was out of sight then turned to look at each other.

  “The One Guy,” I said first.

  “Everything centers around his fuzzy-faced ass,” Harper said.

  “The Feds have him,” Lassa said. “Why?”

  “Good question,” I said. Sharon only blinked a few times. “Oh, shit, sorry, Shar.”

  We proceeded to fill her in on everything we knew. Which, admittedly, wasn’t goddamn much.

  “I believe we need to start with the blood ghast,” Sharon said. “What is it and what is its purpose.”

  “I can answer some of that,” Harper said. “But over drinks and food.”

  “I hear that,” I said and crammed a few crackers in my mouth as I stood.

  “Taps & Tapas?” Lassa asked then smirked. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist, dude.”

  “Goddamn funny,” I said, almost choking on the crackers. I really needed to repair things with Iris if we were ever going to get the ban lifted from us. I could have gone for some Taps & Tapas right then. “Where else?”

  “The Raven’s Perch?” Harper asked.

  She rummaged through her desk and pulled out her Magnum, a .45 semi-automatic, a second .45, two extra knives, and her favorite weapon in the world—the goblin sickle. Polished wood handle with a curved blade sharpened to a point that could slice dragon hide. Nothing could survive the goblin blade in Harper’s hands.

  Harper placed the weapons in various holsters and sheaths, most of them hexed so they eliminated the extra weight, then looked at us. “Ready?”

  “Raven’s Perch?” I asked the others.

  “That area is a little dark for my taste,” Sharon said. “But if everyone else is fine going there . . .”

  “Works for me,” Lassa said. “Those twins bartend there.”

  “You want a weapon?” Harper asked him.

  “Nah,” Lassa said and stretched his arms out, his muscles plain to see. “I’m already armed.”

  “Jesus,” Harper muttered then looked at me. “Chase?”

  I held out my hands and created a two-foot long rod of pure Dim for each. They looked like swirling smoke, but they were hard a
s titanium. “I’m good.”

  A flick of my wrist and the rods poofed back to the space between dimensions.

  “All right. Let’s get our drink on,” Harper said. “But, so we are clear, there is a blood ghast out there and someone summoned it to Asheville. I’m calling this a high security situation, so everyone listens to me when I say to listen to me. No exceptions. Lassa?”

  “What?” he asked, looking confused. “What did I do?”

  “That means whatever flirt fest you have going on stops the second I say it does.”

  “Dude, chill. Blood ghast bad, I get that.”

  “Then we’re in agreement?” Harper looked at each of us in turn.

  “We’re in agreement,” I said. “Come on. I’m freaking starving.”

  Sharon said something about eating the office’s stock of cheese and crackers, but I ignored her as we left the office and headed towards one of the least touristy areas of downtown Asheville. At least for humans.

  6.

  THE RAVEN’S PERCH was situated on a small street that used to be an alley, but was opened up to one lane, one way traffic during the 1990s’ rejuvenation of Asheville’s downtown. The lane’s name was technically Short Court Lane, but everyone in town called it Short Corpse Lane.

  With good reason.

  When the extradimensional happening opened up the portals, it wasn’t like the many beings that came through were embraced with open arms. Humans are one of the most bigoted of species in all the Universe. We fear the unknown and even the known. We pretty much fear everything.

  But, it being Asheville, some enterprising entrepreneurs quickly realized there was a niche to be filled. A space for extradimensional beings to be themselves was in high demand and the few store fronts on Short Corpse Lane were turned into a bar, a cafe, a retail clothing shop, and an ice cream parlor. Every being liked ice cream. Simple goddamn fact.

  The thing was, Short Corpse Lane was called Short Corpse Lane because it was where the junkies in town dumped their dead friends after unfortunate, and inevitable, ODs. There was a bit of a dead body problem, no matter how much the city tried to stop it.