At the Behest of the Dead (23 page)

“Just a minor demon Wednesday night
, but I got him under control.”

“Really? You got a demon under control.”

“He was small. It was tough but I came through. I have a few tricks up my sleeves.”

“I’ve seen your tricks
, you ill-bred charlatan.”

“Words hurt, Glenda.
” I smirked. See, I can quirk my lips up with sarcasm too.

She drew back to slap me again
, then shook her head almost imperceptibly and lowered it.

“So you killed a changer, tamed a demon, and managed to trick one of the most powerful demonologist in the world into becoming demon-bait. Yep, sounds like the greatest lucky streak in the world.”

“I agree. It was all luck.”

The door cracked open
, so I spun around and whipped the hood up over my head. Glenda also spun and put her hands behind her back, even though she didn’t have anything to hide except the fact that we were guilty of some late night skulking. It wasn’t like Collin was around to suspect anything.

Wouldn’t you know it, Mr. Chase-away-sunshine appeared in the
doorway.

“Glad it’s you,
” I said and lowered the hood.

“I guess I can rule out an affair
, if the sentiment is genuine. I detect no untruth in your words.”

“And I det
ect a hint of humanity in yours,” I said. Why did he always have to sound like a robot? If he was getting laid by Glenda he should be a happy robot, not Mr. Depressed.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“You wouldn’t, Marvin,” I muttered. I still had the stupid key in my hand, so I reached inside the robe and felt around but didn’t turn up any inner pockets. How the hell did these guys carry around little tattle tale notebooks?

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a pocket,” I said to Glenda. She nodded and pulled a small pouch out of – well, I’m not really sure where. If her leathers were any tighter they would start cutting off circulation to her brain.

“Use this for your taxi money.” She handed it to me after dumping a few cards and notes into her hand. I took it and tied it to
my belt then turned around as if to consider the room while I slipped the key inside it. When I tugged the drawstrings tight, the flashing blue was cut off. The first thing I would have to do was get a case made and then hang the key around my neck. It was the only way I could think of to keep it safe.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”
Collin asked.

“Not a clue. I know that
Balkir was up to some bad ju-ju but I still don’t know the reason.”

“Perhaps there is something hidden in
Salazar’s room? Did you thoroughly search it?” He did a circuit around the quarters.

I did my best not to look in the direction of the portal.

“Nope. Whatever secrets my old teacher had he took them to the grave.”

Collin looked at me with something like disappointment
, but I wasn’t about to start jumping up and down pointing out Salazar’s secrets.

“Just as well. I came to warn you, Phineas. They’re looking everywhere for you. Searching the floors. I suggest you get out of here before it’s too late.”

“Never heard a better piece of advice in my entire life.” I went to check out the potion station. Ingredients were well labeled and laid out. I took out a few, an empty vial, and then whipped out a mortar and pedestal.

“Is this really a good time to make a love potion?” Glenda smirked for what seemed the hundredth time today. I suddenly remembered how much that churlish, upturned, know-it-all-grin used to irk the shit out of me.

“Why don’t you look in the hallway and see if they’re near?” I nodded toward the door. She didn’t move. Collin took the lead and stuck his head out.

I tossed in a few liquids, going by memory. Then I ground up a dried bulb of garlic, some fennel
, and a root from the Paceus plant that was a bitch to locate. These also went into the noxious mix.

“We need to talk.”

“Not now, Glenda, and don’t mention you know what,” I hissed the last few words. “No one can know. You weren’t even supposed to be allowed down there.”

“Fine,” s
he whispered back with a tight frown.

I rummaged around a small wooden box, found what I thought was a crow
’s feather, and drew it out.

“No you don’t.” She shook her head.

“Oh yes I do.”

As voices filtered
in from the doorway, Collin rose to stop them, but he seemed to be in a losing battle.

“Phineas!”
Glenda said, like she was scolding a child.

“Why don’t you just run out in the hallway and yell ‘he’s in there!’” I shook the potion, relatively sure that I hadn’t missed anything.
“Shit.” I moved bottles aside.

There was a banging at the door and Collin shouted to be heard
, but the people on the other side ignored him. He had one large foot pressed against the door. I got a glance at what must have been a size thirteen shoe and a light bulb went off.

“Really?” I said
, nodding toward his shoe.

Glenda raised her hands and shrugged, either unsure what I was implying or she was going for actress of the year.

“Mercury,” I said and pushed the bottle aside.

More banging at the door.
Then loud shouting as the unmistakable voice of Lukan joined in.

I knocked over a bottle of lavender and then pushed asid
e clove oil. Why wasn’t it here? Wait. There it was! Oh, very funny. Mercury was next to lead and lead was next to dried worms.
Like you ever knew how to fish, Salazar.

“It’s been real fun.” I said
, as I moved toward the plywood duct-taped to the side of the building. I ripped a piece away and that left me with the perfect suicide door.

“You better not!
Phin!” Glenda whispered as loud as she dared.

I wondered if that was about to be the last sound I heard out of her.

I stepped into space and plummeted into the night sky. The potion was already at my lips, but I jostled the bottle as I fell and got a mouthful, which was entirely too much.

I shot straight up at what felt like forty miles an hour. Wind whistled through my hair as I rose. I had the other bottle in hand and managed to drop t
he flight potion, hoping to the hells I dropped it and not the other vial. If the lead fell out of my hand, I was in for a quick trip that would end with my frozen corpse exploring the expanses of space.

I bit off a tiny chunk of lead and muttered a spell over the wind. At least it stopped my descent from a near drop to something approaching a parachute-assisted fall. I would have needed a half an hour to properly m
easure all of the ingredients. Even then the lighter than a feather potion was volatile at best. I fell out of the clouds and the buildings came into view. So I steered toward the warlock headquarters and threw a splash of power into my landing, hoping that no one was in the way.

I dug out my pitchfork and fled into the night. The next stop, after I ran an errand or t
wo, was the necropolis. I liked my brethren well enough, but it was hard to get over the smell.

Chapter
Eleven

“
Y
our dog is possessed,” the woman behind the counter said. Her glasses emphasized a lot about her face. Mainly her eyes, because the glass was so thick that her pupils bugged out. Speaking of possessed, her eyes were possessed. Her nametag read Sheila.

“He’s not really my dog.”

“She.”

“Oh.” I tried to look apologetic.

“That’ll be two hundred and fourteen dollars.” She smiled.

I waited for my mouth to close. This place was called The Lucky Dog. I wasn’t feeling the sentiment.

“That seems pretty high.”

“You said one night and left her for four. If you hadn’t shown by tomorrow we were going to call animal control
. Lots of people abandon dogs, and frankly,” she leaned forward, “that dog is weird and evil. I get it.”

“She’s very sweet.” I smiled in what I hoped was a winning manner. She wasn’t impressed.

“Yeah. All she does is eat, growl, and glare. We haven’t been able to walk her. When she craps in her cage we draw straws to see who will clean it up. What was she eating before she got here?”

“Steak and potatoes.” 

What had Clara been feeding the dog? If it even belonged to the grandmotherly woman. I still held out hope that she had been somehow tricked into sending me to the park late last week to find her husband’s killer.

“Smells like she’s been eating road kill to me.” She ran my debit card and I waited to see if I even had enough funds to cover the charge. I thought about
glamouring the room, grabbing the dog, and making a get away if I was short of funds. A quick glance told me that would be a bad idea, since they had at least one security camera.

“She smells that bad?”

“Her – you know -- poop.”

“Oh.” T
his time I gave up on trying to look apologetic.

“You’ll have to come get Peaches. She won’t let any of us touch her.”

“Peaches?”

“Your dog. Her name was on the tag
, or did you forget?”

“I thought you said no one would touch her.”

“No one in their right mind. Carlos isn’t afraid of anything, but he came out of the kennel mumbling about El Diablo.”

“Like I said, she’s not my dog. I’m just keeping an eye on her for a few days.”

“I’d keep an eye, a chain, and at least a muzzle.” Sheila turned to lead me into the kennel.

The room wa
s silent when we walked in. Dogs lay curled up, nose to tail, except for a couple of Chihuahuas that shivered next to each other. Their bulbous eyes reminded me of the lady that led me to Peaches.

Steel
cages lined the walkway with dogs of all sizes, conditions, and ages inside. I would have expected them to be howling as we went into the space, but they all regarded me with accusing eyes. Oh leave off, dogs. I’m not even in my warlock clothing today. Besides, what did I ever do to dogs except kill a large one the other night?

At the end of the
cages I found Peaches. She was laying on her back with all four legs pointed straight up. Oh dear, I was going to be unhappy about paying kennel space for a dead dog.

But she rolled over and rumbled to her feet as I approached. She di
dn’t really move that quickly. More like she was ponderous instead of the rolly-polly bounciness of a Pomeranian. I smiled, but she didn’t smile back. She didn’t even blink.

“That dog is strange,” the woman said. She snapped the end of a leash, handed it to me, and walked back the way we had come.

Peaches didn’t move.

“Come on, girl,
” I said.

The dog lifted one leg and farted long and loudly. I shook my head
while the animal regarded me like it was just waiting for me to say something. I didn’t. In fact I turned, eyes wide, because I could have sworn I’d smelled something besides doggy gas. I thought, for a few seconds, that I’d smelled brimstone.

I tugged at the leash again and led her out.

**

We had to dash for my truck because the rain was starting up again. The plan was to pick
the dog up and then run. Instead I staggered when I got her into both of my arms, because she seemed to weight about sixty-five pounds instead of fifteen.

It wasn’t all that cold
, and some humidity hung around like it was bored. Typical grey late September day. The sun might be up there or it might be on vacation until June.

I pounded over puddles and was thankful that I’d left my robes at home this time. Not that I had
a clean one anywhere in the house. I was going to have to place an order ASAP if I were to do any more warlocking.

I tossed the dog in the side door and ran around to the driver’s side. Sliding in
, I shook my long black hair to get some of the water off. She looked at me for a few seconds and then returned the favor.

“Wet dog smell. Great,
” I muttered.

I slid the key in and started the truck. It rumbled to life like a bad day and sat puttering.
Then I shifted the heat around so I could get some on the rapidly fogging front window, some on my wet hair, and some on the dog.

She stood on all fours glaring at me. I glared back
, but she didn’t blink.

“What’s your problem, dog?”

“From dawn’s repast, yea the light doth filter in and greet me,” it replied in a voice that sounded like a pair of boulders being ground together by an angry god, while a classroom of special needs children sang the national anthem at the top of their lungs, in falsetto.