Promise: Caulborn #2 (7 page)

Maybe I was frustrated by my inability to square things with Megan, but I couldn’t stand by and let Petra do this to herself. I took her by the shoulders and looked her square in the eye. “Petra, repeat after me. ‘I am an outstanding cook.’” She gave me an exasperated sigh and tried to pull away, but I held fast. If she really wanted to escape my grip, she could easily break my arms. “I am an outstanding cook,” I repeated. “C’mon, say it.”

“I am an outstanding cook,” she said flatly.

I frowned at her. “Like you mean it. You trained with chefs in France. You were in Italy when cannoli was invented. ‘I am an outstanding cook.’”

“I am an outstanding cook.” Her voice was firmer this time.

“And who here has had personal correspondence with Wolfgang Puck? Who here has guest starred on Emeril’s show? And not only guest starred, but taught him a thing or two about ghost peppers? ‘I am an outstanding cook.’”

“I am an outstanding cook.” She almost sounded like she meant it.

“And who here received a chocolate cake recipe from Quetzacoatl, the god of chocolate himself? A cake that, once baked, was so appealing that a living zodiac symbol actually came down to our plane of existence and tried to steal it? ‘I am an outstanding cook.’”

“I am an outstanding cook.” As she said it, her eyes widened. “I am an outstanding cook. I am.” She gave a short laugh. “I really am.”

“Damn right you are, Petra. And if your mother doesn’t like what you cook, then she’s got no taste and she can stuff it.”

“She can stuff it. She
can
stuff it. Oh, yes.” Petra clenched her jaw and punched a fist into the air. “
She can stuff it
,” she hissed.

Wow. Little bit of pent up anger there. I took her hand and pulled her toward the living room. “C’mon, let’s fire up
Doctor Who
and watch that
Agatha Christie
episode. The detox scene is hilarious.”

“No,” Petra said, pulling me hard enough to make me crash against her. She picked me up and carried me toward the bedroom. Her dark eyes smoldered and her voice was husky.” I have a better idea,” she whispered.

And what a much, much better idea it was. Half an hour later, with Petra cuddled against me, I drifted off into what should’ve been a restful night’s sleep.

So, of course, it got ruined by nightmares.

Chapter 4

Bargain 1987763 Addendum A – The dragon has been withholding funds from his promised 33% payments. Should he fail to comply with the terms of the bargain, I will be forced to mark it as nullified. In preparation for this, I have dispatched sycophants with the silkworms obtained from Bargain 665945 in order to obtain materials that will withstand the dragon’s paranormal abilities. Three specimens of suitable nature were successfully obtained, despite an encounter with local Caulborn agents. We will commence the weaving process shortly.

—From Keeper Laras’s Transaction Journal

In the dream, a giant beast the size of a car was trying to eat me. Its glowing red eyes locked onto me, and it fired twin laser beams from its eyes straight into my chest. I rolled away in that slow motion dream way and ran. A wall of mist materialized in front of me, and human forms with glowing red eyes reached for me from the mist. Their fingers ended in razor-sharp black nails. One grabbed me by the throat and—

I woke with a jolt and slid my hand through the sheets looking for Petra. Her side of the bed was warm but unoccupied. I found her in the kitchen, her hands opening and closing at her sides as she looked at all the index cards taped to the cabinets.

“She can stuff it,” Petra whispered. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

“Love?” I asked. “You okay?”

She jolted and turned to face me. “Morning,” she said finally. “I’m fine. I just realized that even if she can stuff it, I still want to make a good meal. There are a couple of things I need to pick up this morning.”

I put my hands on her shoulders. “You’re going to be great, Petra. Whatever you make will be awesome.”

“I know,” she said. Her eyes flicked back to the cards. “I am an outstanding cook.” She giggled, but it sounded forced. I gave her a hug. She leaned into me and sighed. “Honestly, though, I did burn through a lot of ingredients practicing the other night.” She headed for the door.

“Hon,” I said, “don’t forget your coat.” Petra wouldn’t feel the cold if she didn’t want to, but people might talk if they saw a supermodel walking around in twenty-degree weather in just a “Joss Whedon is my Master Now” T-shirt.

She gave an embarrassed smile, grabbed her coat, and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. I rubbed my face. Petra had work to do, and so did I. She’d taken the first step last night toward banishing a particular demon of her own, so I figured it was time I took care of the sword that was hanging over my head.

I walked back to the bedroom, leaned on the dresser, and looked at my Commander Courageous action figure. “All right, you know I’m on the hook for a promise with Orcus, and there’s no way I can keep that promise.” I ran my hands over my face. “What’s the story with these Keeper guys? Are they on the level? Can I trust them to take the promise on and see it fulfilled?”

Courageous stared back at me, his plastic eyes showing no hint of life. “Come on,” I said. “You pop in and announce that you’ve arranged training for me, but you won’t answer when I have questions?” The fixed “I’m a hero, dammit,” expression never waivered. “Fine,” I said, disgusted. I did a quick mental check-in with my followers. Thankfully, everything seemed quiet on the Bright Side. I blessed them as I heard their prayers, then left my apartment and hopped on the T.

My watch said it was half past eight. I figured the Keepers, like the Caulborn, kept irregular business hours. The same pleasant young woman greeted me by name and had Laras paged. A few moments later, I was back in the unmarked conference room with the smartly dressed Keeper.

After we were seated and he had offered me a beverage, he spread his manicured hands. “Now then, Mr. Corinthos, what can I help you with?”

I licked my lips. I had no idea where to start. Seeing my discomfort, Laras gave me a sympathetic smile. “Take your time, Mr. Corinthos. Our clients often come to us for circumstances that may be embarrassing or awkward. I assure you, we handle each scenario with the utmost discretion, and you are completely free of judgment here.”

I rubbed my face. “All right, here goes. I’m being held to a promise unfairly.” I explained what had happened with Megan, and Orcus’s subsequent interpretation of those events. “So basically I’m screwed unless I can somehow keep her fine forever.”

Laras steepled his fingers in front of his face and rested his chin on his fingertips. “Now this is an interesting case, Mr. Corinthos. An interesting case, indeed.” He pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling for a few moments, as if thinking something through. “I believe we can help you,” he said finally. “Julie will draw up the official paperwork, but let us move forward on a gentlemen’s agreement. We will keep your partner safe. In exchange for this service, there is an item I need you to procure for me. You are familiar with the Museum of Science here in Boston, I trust?” I nodded. “Good. There is a Viking exhibit currently on display. Within that exhibit is a chest inlaid with a silver cross. Bring its contents to me, and my organization will ensure your partner’s safety.”

“You’re seriously asking me to rob a museum?”

His lips quirked up in a sly smile. “Mr. Corinthos, the chest in question hasn’t been opened in over a thousand years. Its wood has resisted fire, acid, drills and much more. It’s on display as an oddity; the museum staff doesn’t even know what is held inside, so they’ll never miss it.” When I didn’t reply right away, Laras sighed. “Mr. Corinthos, I do not wish to waste your time. These are the terms of the agreement. If you find them acceptable, let us shake hands and seal the bargain. If you do not, let us shake hands and part company amicably.” He stood and held his hand out to me. “Which shall it be?”

I stood and shook. I couldn’t afford to waste time; the encounter with the wight yesterday had been too close a call. “I’ll have it to you tonight.”

I was preoccupied for the entire train ride to HQ. Once there, I went up to Megan’s office. I found her carefully paging through a worn, leather-bound book. There were stacks of books and old parchments neatly arranged on her desk. “Morning, Meg,” I said. “What’s all this?”

“Research material,” she replied. “I’m not going to get to be Care Taker unless I know everything.”

The Care Taker, the Numero Uno of the Caulborn, negotiated peace treaties, determined which locations got more agents, oversaw training and development, and guarded a vault of artifacts that were too dangerous for the world to know about. Whoever held the mantle of Care Taker was the living embodiment of everything the Caulborn stood for. “So what are you reading there?” I asked.

“This book is about singular monstrosities, those creatures of which we’re sure there’s only one.”

“Like the Tarrasque?” I asked. “That was a one hit wonder back in the first century that St. Martha got rid of with a bunch of holy water.”

“That’s in here, yes. Right now, I’m reading about the Glawackus.”

I ran a hand over my chin. “I don’t know that one.”

Megan turned the book around to show me an illustration of a creature that had the forepaws of a bear, the rear of a panther, and the head of a lion. “The Glawackus,” she read, “first appeared in 1934 in the town of Glastonbury, Connecticut. It went on a rampage, killing fifty people before moving north into Massachusetts. It seemed to grow in power, because it was able to completely destroy the town of Frizzleburg, Massachusetts.”

“Frizzleburg?” I said. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Megan nodded and put the book down. “That’s because the only way for the Caulborn to cover up the event was to erase all mentions of the town’s existence.”

I whistled. “So how’d they stop it?”

Megan frowned. “The book doesn’t say. It mentions that an agent named Jack Santo somehow banished it, but Santo died at Frizzleburg of wounds he’d sustained fighting the Glawackus. No one knows how he did it.” Megan closed the book and set it down on her desk. “There are so many things out there, Vincent. So many unknowns. The Caulborn protect humanity from monsters, and vice versa, but can you imagine how strong of a world we’d be if we all banded together? When I was a diplomat, I handled several treaties for extraterrestrial entities, and some of the friendlier ones implied that many off-world species view Earth as easy pickings because we’re not united as a planet. Sooner or later, those things will come looking to conquer us. If I can become Care Taker, and bring paranormals and regular people together, they won’t get this planet without a fight.” There was a fierceness in her ice-blue eyes, a charisma that was contagious. I actually believed she could do it.

“I agree with you, Meg, but that’s a hell of a responsibility,” I said.

“Says the man who is literally a god.”

I raised my hands and smiled. “Fair enough, but gods don’t have to do paperwork. I can’t imagine what the Care Taker’s inbox looks like.”

“I’ll chance it,” Megan said. She gestured at the books and scrolls. “There are so many competing forces on this Earth, both mundane and paranormal. If we were able to bring all of them together, to get everyone seeing eye to eye, imagine what we could accomplish.”

“Not to rain on your parade, Megan, but a lot of those forces don’t want to play nice together. A lot of vampires resent humanity because we remind them of what they used to be, or they just see humans as food. Lycanthropes are big believers in survival of the fittest, and don’t get me started on the fae.”

Megan gave me a wry smile. “Your worshippers are fae.”

I put up my hands. “Fine, all the fae except for the Urisk. We’re talking about some really nasty stuff, Meg.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy, Vincent. But in my time as a diplomat, I was able to negotiate treaties with opposing factions that had been previously deemed impossible. I was able to get humans, aliens, skinwalkers, and others to sit around a table and talk like reasonable people. It can be done. I just need to understand how they think, and then I can do it.”

“Speaking of how people think,” I said, “any ideas on our grave robber?”

She crossed her arms and sighed. “Nothing. There’s no obvious connection between any of the deceased, nor is there any kind of occult ritual or event that might call for ingredients like these. Herb’s at a loss, too.”

“Uh, Meg, look, I don’t want to seem rude here, but how much do you really know about Herb?” In response, she handed me an inch thick manila folder with “Wallenby, Herbert Q.” written on its tab.

“That’s everything I was able to dig up on Herb. His family, his paranormal activities, his income, his address, work history, known associations, and anything else. He’s clean, Vincent.”

I hefted the file. “Wow, you pulled this together fast,” I said.

“It’s not complete,” she replied. “What’s there is mostly just the stuff on public record. I haven’t had a chance to cross reference everything properly.”

I glanced through the file. “Born in Connecticut, mother died when he was five, lived with his father until he was fourteen, then with his grandfather after his father disappeared. First time Herb popped up on the Caulborn’s radar was fifteen years ago, when a young Herb was taken into psychiatric counseling for shooting a corpse with a shotgun.” I looked up from the folder. “That’s kinda morbid, don’t you think?”

Megan nodded. “The details of the event are sketchy, and some of the material is classified at a level I can’t access. However, since whatever happened that day, Herb has been nothing but exemplary. Not even so much as a parking ticket, let alone anything nefarious.”

“Well now I know he’s hiding something.” I said. “Nobody’s
that
clean.”

“I’ve never gotten a parking ticket,” Megan said dryly.

“Of course you haven’t.” I needed to change the subject. “So did your date with him last night turn up anything more about him?”