Blood Ghast Blues (Black Box Inc. Series Book 2) Page 5

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.

  That’s where the Sweepers came in.

  No one knows what dimension they are from. I’ve sat down with some well-traveled shamans of many species and they cannot say what the origins of the Sweepers are. All anyone knows is one day they weren’t there, one day they were, and the corpse problem disappeared. Or the Sweepers made the corpses disappear. Junkies still OD, but the dumped bodies didn’t stay on the lane’s cobblestones for long.

  “They make me . . . uncomfortable,” Sharon said as we turned the corner onto Short Corpse Lane. “They do know I am not a corpse they can take, yes?”

  “You walk and talk, Shar,” I said when we grew close to one of the beings as it stood stock still a few feet down from the corner of the first building. “I think they know the difference between undead and dead dead.”

  “I certainly hope so,” Sharon replied.

  The Sweeper was dressed in all black. No Grim Reaper cloak, but simple pants, a simple shirt, black leather boots, and a hat that looked like a mix between a bowler and a fedora. The being’s face was obscured by a filmy gauze that hung down from all sides of the hat’s brim, so that all that could be seen was the occasional twinkle of its pure white eyes when the light caught them just right.

  Clutched in its hands was a broom that looked like what a thirteenth century witch would ride while silhouetted by a full moon. All rough, thick bristles and gnarled, twisted handle cut from a dead oak tree.

  “Evening,” Harper said as we passed the being.

  “Ms. Kyles,” the Sweeper replied. “A good evening to you.” The Sweeper nodded its head and watched us pass by.

  “Sweepers aren’t so bad,” Harper said as we wove around a group of young bog sprites that were busy window shopping in front of the clothing shop. “All you gotta do is be polite.”

  The bog sprites stank of the rot of ancient wood, moss, and peat, despite the immense amounts of perfume they’d doused themselves in to mask the smell. Sharon gagged and caught more than a few glares as we moved along past the ice cream shop, which was packed to capacity with various creatures and beings, and on to the Raven’s Perch.

  “Cal,” Harper said to a rock troll seated on an oversized bar stool by the bar’s door. The guy’s torso was as big as a Mini Cooper with proportionately massive arms and legs. “How’s it hanging?”

  “Rock hard,” Cal replied then nodded to Lassa. “Lassa. Twins are bartending tonight.”

  “Nice. Thanks, Cal,” Lassa said.

  “Defiler of dimensions,” Cal said to me. “Not gonna cause trouble, is ya?”

  “Screw you, Cal,” I said.

  Defiler of dimensions. No one says it with capital D’s. Lower case insult all the way.

  Beings, no matter what dimension they are from, spend a lifetime, sometimes longer, perfecting the art of communing with the Dim. Each trying to find that bliss of nothingness. The Dim is there, but not there. Across the dimensions, the Dim is sacred space. Or non-space.

  But, as far as anyone knows, I’m the only one that can do what I do. I’m the only one that can manipulate it. And that ticks off the high mucky-mucks of every single extradimensional religion, spiritual sect, and church group. I’m the defiler of dimensions because my nasty, dirty, human hands play with something that others say no one is supposed to play with.

  “Just messin’ with ya, Lawter,” Cal said and patted me on the shoulder, nearly breaking my bones. “Y’all have a good time. Half price well drinks.” He winked at Sharon. “That includes blood drinks, Ms. Spaglioni.”

  “Oh, okay. Thank you, Cal,” Sharon said as she blushed. That’s quite a sight to see, a zombie blushing. “Have a nice night, Cal.”

  He smiled and revealed teeth larger than my fingers. Cal didn’t have to, but he stood up and opened the door for us, making it very apparent that Sharon should go in first. We let her. Quick way to ruin a night is to offend a rock troll when he’s being gentlemanly.

  Inside was a dark bar, wood paneling everywhere, with a heavy speakeasy vibe. Lots of beaded lamp shades and quiet corners. The mood was subdued and the few patrons there that early in the evening barely looked up as we came in.

  Along the wall to our left was a long bar with two siblings of opposite sex, both gorgeous, working behind it. They stopped what they were doing, which was washing glasses, and gave Lassa two identically wicked grins. He returned the grins and gave them a wink. You could see them almost melt right there and then.

  On a small stage set against the far wall was one messed-up looking creature. Humanish face, body of a tiger, and eight spider-like arms, the being sat on the floor of the stage and was playing some traditional Appalachian instrumental tune on two guitars at once. Harper gave the thing a quick wave and the creature nodded once without missing a note.

  “Over here,” Harper said and led us to a table up against the wall with a long bench seat we could all sit on and face the door. Harper took the right end with me next to her, then Sharon, and Lassa capping us off on the left. Protective formation.

  I looked from Harper to the stage and back.

  “Aki. He’s tsuchigumo,” Harper said. “He moved into town last month and his roommate and I go way back.”

  “Who’s his roommate?” I asked.

  “Patty Hennesy.”

  “Oh, right, I remember Patty. She used to be a crackhead.”

  “Emphasis on the used to be,” Harper said. “Cleaned up right after the extradimensional happening.”

  “Is this the same Patty Hennesy that works for Social Services?” Sharon asked.

  “Yeah. That’s her,” Harper replied.

  “Oh, she’s lovely. Absolutely lovely,” Sharon said as her face lit up with a wide smile. “She helped me get settled in Asheville when I immigrated to Earth. I had no idea she used to be an addict.”

  “We knew her from our street days,” I said. “I forgot she got her shit together. And I didn’t know you stayed in touch with her.”

  “I keep tabs on all the old street kids,” Harper said. “Never know when you need a contact.”

  “I try to forget those days,” I said.

  “No shit,” Harper replied as a waiter walked over to our table. “Speaking of forgetting, we need drinks. Many, many drinks. Wash that bloody scene out of our heads.”

  The waiter paused at Harper’s words, but only briefly. “Good evening, folks. Good to see y’all. Not Taps & Tapas tonight?”

  “Chase got us banned,” Harper said.

  “Ouch. What’ll it be for you all?”

  “Jasper . . . ?” Lassa raised an eyebrow. “You have your mojo turned down tonight. What’s up, dude?”

  “New manager,” Jasper said as he shrugged. He was about six feet tall and had an eastern European handsomeness to him, all dark eyes with a pronounced nose and cheekbones. “He insists I mute my incubus charms while working. Says it’s an unfair advantage over the customers.”

  “There go your tips,” Lassa said.

  “No shit,” Jasper replied with another shrug. “Anyway, what’s your poison?”

  “Whatever is fresh,” Sharon said.

  “Pomegranate juice and blood martini for the lovely lady,” Jasper replied then turned his attention to Harper. “Harp?”

  “Any new moonshine I should know about?” Harper asked.

  “No, sorry. With the legit distilleries putting out so much product, our under the table guys are going belly up. Haven’t seen the real still shine in a couple months.”

  “Then bourbon,” Harper said.

  “I’ll take whatever your darkest stou
t is on tap,” I said. “And a round of appetizers.”

  “Which ones?” Jasper asked.

  “All of them. Two each. Big tip if you get the kitchen to expedite.”

  “You got it,” Jasper said as he gave us a quick bow of his head. “Apps soon and drinks sooner. Give a holler if you need me.”

  He left and I relaxed into the bench seat.

  “Blood ghast,” I said.

  A couple tables away, two women stopped talking and glanced my way. Something rippled underneath their skin and their lips curled up with disdain.

  “Maybe a little quieter,” Harper said. “No one likes hearing about a blood ghast.”

  “Tough goddamn shit,” I said. “We came here to talk.”

  “I came here to drink,” Harper replied.

  “Harp . . .”

  “Sorry. Yeah. They can deal.”

  “They can,” I said. “All right. Anyone at this table buying that the Feds are here by accident when a blood ghast happens to show up? They jumped on that crime scene fast. I can see local PD handing it over to Willitz, but there has to be something else going on for Willitz to hand it over to the Feds like he did. The guy didn’t even come upstairs with us.”

  “Feds were already in town because of dragons?” Lassa asked and then answered his own question. “No way. Dragons are easy to talk to. You don’t need special agents for that.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “And when Willitz hauled me in a couple weeks ago over the Iris thing, the Feds were watching from behind the one-way glass.”

  “You saw them?” Sharon asked.

  “No, but you heard what Ducheré said. She was there. Willitz was having to put on a goddamn show. Asking me all about how I work the Dim and insisting I spell it out like he didn’t know already.”

  “Sketchy,” Harper said.

  “Mucho,” Lassa agreed.

  Jasper arrived with our drinks and I pointed a finger at him.

  “Uh oh,” he said. “What’d I do?”

  “Nothing, pal. It’s all good, but I have a question,” I said.

  “Shoot.”

  “You’re an incubus. Does that mean you only deal in sexual energy or blood too?”

  “Incubi and succubi primarily feed off the sexual energy of willing, and sometimes unwilling, partners,” Jasper said then looked around and leaned over the table. “But, we can be vampiric if we have to be. I don’t dig it, but some of the brothers and sisters do.”

  “So you know about blood,” I said.

  “Chase. Huh-uh,” Harper warned.

  “What? Maybe he knows”—

  “About the blood ghast?” Jasper asked, still low and close so only we could hear. “The rumors started spreading after lunch today. Warnings are getting around town fast. You were right to ask.”

  “Damn right I was,” I said.

  “Down boy,” Harper said. “What warnings?”

  “Blood creatures are especially susceptible to blood ghast possession,” Jasper said like it was common knowledge.

  Sharon gave a quiet squeak of fear. If she didn’t know that tidbit of information then I’d hardly say it was common knowledge. Jasper glanced at her and scrunched up his face.

  “Not so sure zombies count, Sharon,” he said. “Maybe they do.”

  “Possession? Grab a chair and talk,” Harper said in a voice that offered zero room for argument.

  “Bigger tip,” I said.

  Jasper thought about it then pushed back from our table and held up a hand. “Let me check on your apps first. I’ll be right back.”

  “Sometimes you have to be blunt and ask a question,” I said, rather smug about my questioning. “Now we get to learn something new about blood ghasts.”

  The front door burst open and Cal came stumbling inside, his face bone white and his arms waving at everyone like he was trying to tell us to run.

  Then he exploded.

  Blood, guts, and rock troll hide went everywhere. And from out of the mess rose one ugly-ass phantom.

  “Goddammit,” I snarled.

  7.

  THE BLOOD GHAST was quite possibly one of the ugliest things I’d ever seen.

  Shit brown skin, bright orange eyes without pupils, spindly arms that ended in razor sharp clawed hands, a skinny body that tapered down to a swirling point like some storybook genie. It hovered in the air a couple feet off the ground as the last of Cal dripped from its body.

  Harper was up and jumping over our table, pistol drawn, before I could even think of putting together my Dim rods. Lassa was right behind her, his hand out, waiting to be armed. Harper obliged and slapped a ten inch blade into his palm.

  “Stay here,” I said to Sharon as the Dim formed from my palms into two two-foot long rods. “But run if you have to. We don’t know for sure if zombies count as blood creatures.”

  Sharon didn’t respond. She was too busy hiding under the table. Good for her.

  I left our table and made my way to the bar, looking to flank the blood ghast that had exploded out of Cal’s body. Goddammit. I liked Cal. He was good troll.

  “What do you have back there?” I shouted as I drew close to the bar.

  The siblings popped up from behind, each with a pump-action shotgun. They racked shells into chambers and put the butts to their shoulders in perfect synchronicity. Too perfect. They had to be fraternal twins with a connection as strong as dopplers’. Although the twins would have to be considerably more intelligent than those muscle-bound morons.

  I had no idea what species the twins were—they looked human enough, but I’d once watched them take down a drunk group of river elves with their bare fists, which made me think that their looks were deceiving. Seeing them armed made me feel one helluva lot better about our odds.

  “Nice,” I said to the twins.

  Then that happy feeling went away as the blood ghast grabbed two patrons running for the front door. Claws dug into bellies and the monster’s hands slid up inside the patrons’ rib cages. Then it slammed the unfortunate victims into each other and their bodies exploded on impact.

  “Down!” the twins shouted as Harper and Lassa reached the blood ghast.

  No hesitation from either of them. Harper and Lassa fell to the floor a half-second before the twins opened fire with the shotguns. They unloaded on the blood ghast and the monster shook and shuddered, its body coming apart into shit brown bits as the slugs hit. Yeah, the twins were using slugs, not shot. They were prepared for big problems. The happy feeling started to come back.

  Then the happy feeling left again as the shotguns clicked empty simultaneously and the blood ghast turned those orange eyes on the twins. The monster’s body reassembled, parts flying to it as it flew across the bar at the twins, razor sharp claws swiping left and right.

  “Nope!” Harper shouted as she stood up and put four rounds into the back of the blood ghast’s head once it was past her.

  The thing’s ugly noggin disappeared, giving the twins time to retreat from behind the bar. I didn’t waste the opportunity either and joined them as they raced towards the back of the room. The last of the few patrons were several steps ahead of us, sprinting towards the kitchen door. Jasper was standing there, ushering them through.

  “Get out the back!” I yelled.

  “There is no back!” Jasper yelled then was gone into the kitchen.

  I could hear the sound of heavy equipment being shoved against the door. Then my attention was drawn back to the main room as the blood ghast shrieked. The monster had the beginnings of a head again. Bits and pieces were floating up from the floor and reassembling on its shoulders.

  The twins were next to me, each reloading their shotguns, as I held my Dim rods up and out to ward off the monster.

  “We have t
o draw it outside!” Harper yelled.

  The blood ghast hesitated at the sound of her voice, but maintained its course right at me.

  “Suggestions are welcome!” I yelled back at Harper.

  The thing was on me before she could respond. I ducked a claw swipe and jammed the end of one of my Dim rods into its midsection. The monster cried out and retreated a couple feet. Its orange eyes went wide and it slapped at the spot where I’d struck. The shit brown skin was turning black and oozing pus that was even blacker.

  “Ha!” I shouted and moved in for the attack. It could be hurt by Dim.

  I brought my other Dim rod down across the blood ghast’s left shoulder and it shrieked at me. One of the twins grabbed my arm and yanked me backwards which saved my life as a claw swipe split the air where I’d been standing a millisecond before.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled.

  The blood ghast shrieked once more and slapped at its shoulder. The same black pus was oozing from the second spot. That good news was mixed with bad news as I glanced at the first wound I caused. The pus was gone and the wound was healing. Fast.

  Dim hurt it, but not for long.

  “Shit,” I said and started moving to my right, the twins following right behind, their shotguns aimed at the monster.

  “I have a plan!” Sharon yelled.

  “A good one?” I yelled back.

  “I do not know! Lassa! Get its attention and draw it outside! Then give us time to get back to the office before you lure it there!”

  “To the office?” Lassa cried.

  “I know what she’s up to!” Harper yelled. “Do it!”

  Lassa picked up a chair and threw it at the blood ghast, but the monster ignored the attack as the piece of furniture exploded across the thing’s back. What it didn’t ignore was Lassa taking the knife Harper had given him and drawing it across his forearm. Yeti blood welled then began to drip to the gore coated floor.

  “That’s a goddamn shitty plan!” I yelled as the monster spun about and raced towards Lassa.

  Harper put six shots into the thing’s face and its head was once again gone. That slowed it enough for Lassa to turn and run from the bar with Harper right on his tail. They were out the door in a blink, the headless blood ghast in hot pursuit.