The Night Beat, From the Necropolis Enforcement Files (33 page)

“Yep.” I got out of the car. Ralph scrambled over the back of the front seat and came with me. I decided not to argue. “Good doggie, coming to protect Mommy-Dog while she puts out the nasty fire.”

“Hilarious,” he growled. “I just don’t want you alone out here.”

“Can’t argue with your judgment.” I lifted the trunk and got out the Savior Spray. We trotted over to the Hellfire and I looked for the right spot to spray.

Hellfire was interesting in a variety of ways. For one thing, and against all human expectations, it didn’t burn hot. Until you were engulfed in it, you couldn’t feel that it was there. Once engulfed, it burned like ice. Nothing dusted you faster than Hellfire, though.

Ralph and I stayed a respectful distance back from the burning. “How deep do you think it goes?”

He sniffed. “Looks about ten feet, smells like less.”

“Huh.” I couldn’t argue, that’s about what I’d come up with as well. I chose my spot and sprayed in the correct pattern. Nothing looked different.

“No change,” Ralph noted.

“No kidding.” Something wasn’t right. Savior Spray was designed to douse Hellfire. So, why wasn’t it working?

Ralph whined and nudged up against me. I looked around to see a jogger coming down the access road.

“Morning!” the man shouted cheerfully. “You folks having some trouble?”

“Ah…yes,” I answered lamely, trying to come up with why I was holding a fire extinguisher and standing with what truly looked far more like wolf than hound.

The jogger trotted blithely through the Hellfire and came over to us. “Engine fire?” he asked, seeming fully ready to pop the hood and take a look.

“No. I…I saw a little fire here. From someone’s cigarette. But we got it, didn’t we, boy?” I ruffled Ralph’s head in that dog owner way.

“Good thing you were looking,” the jogger said seriously. “Last thing we want is this beautiful place engulfed in flames. Whereabouts are you in the Estates?”

“We don’t live there…yet,” I added to his look of disappointment and mild suspicion. “We’re still sort of…house browsing.”

“Ah.” His eyes lit up. “I’m a realtor. I’d be happy to show you around if you’re not already represented.” He whipped a card out of the pocket of his jogging pants. It was only a little damp.

“Bill Bennett, Realtor for all seasons,” I read aloud as Ralph sniffed him openly and I sniffed surreptitiously. “Great. We’ll definitely give you a call.”

“I’ll look forward to it. Beautiful dog,” he added, as he did the manly pet the dog thing. I got the distinct feeling Bill was hitting on me. “What breed is he?”

“Russian Wolfhound. Very highly trained. I paid a fortune for him, but he’s worth it, aren’t you, baby?” I said in that nauseating way pet owners talk to their animal friends.

Ralph got into the act, doing the happy doggy dance that begged for more attention. He got it from Bill. I was getting tired of the act. Besides, the canine part of me sort of wanted to go all wiggy, too -- Bill was clearly either a dog lover or pathologically lonely, because he seemed ready to take Ralph home.

“Well,” I said as regretfully as I could manage, “we’d probably better get going.”

Bill nodded and gave Ralph one last enthusiastic pet-rub combo. “Bring your dog along when you’re ready to house hunt,” he said as he started jogging off around the perimeter of the Estates. “You should be sure he likes it, too.” Yep, definitely a dog lover. He waved to our cars’ occupants as he trotted off, which reminded me that they were still there. Acting human took a lot out of me when I hadn’t had food or sleep for a while.

We went to the car and got in. “Something’s odd about the Hellfire.”

“Your new boyfriend didn’t seem to notice it,” Jack said sourly.

“More to the point,” Ralph said before I could work up a suitable comeback, “he didn’t smell of it.”

“Of what?” Jack asked.

“Of Hellfire, of sulfur, of anything other than laundry detergent, sweat, and a little more cologne than necessary to go jogging,” I replied.

“He probably picks up girls all along his jogging route,” Jack muttered.

“What’s him not smelling of Hellfire mean?” Freddy asked.

Ralph beat me to this answer, too. “That it’s not Hellfire we’re seeing.”

Chapter 48

“What do you mean?” Sexy Cindy asked. “You said it was Hellfire, we can see it. You said humans can go through it safely, so maybe that’s why he didn’t smell.”

“He smelled. He just didn’t smell like he should have. Humans can’t feel Hellfire if they can’t see it, so Bill was safe jogging through it.”

“Bill?” Jack asked.

“Bill Bennett, Realtor for all seasons. I told him we were thinking of moving in. Anyway, even though most humans can’t sense Hellfire, going through it should leave traces, one of the easiest to spot being smell. And there was none.”

“There’s a smell of Hellfire when you’re close to the flames,” Ralph added. “But there was none on Bill, and I got some good, intense sniffs in.”

“Meaning?” Jack asked.

I thought about it. “They knew we were coming.” I thought some more. “The Hellfire’s an illusion. Designed to send us away, keep us out, make us waste time, effort and materials to get rid of it. But it’s not really there.”

“And if you’re wrong and we go through it, then what?” Jack asked.

“We’re dusted.”

There was dead silence in the car. Ralph broke it. “I’ll go through.”

I resisted the urge to mention that he always grandstanded when I was nearby. One of us actually had to test it. But he wasn’t the one in charge. “No, it should be me.”

Ralph actually bared his fangs at me, which I was pretty sure was the first time, ever. “No. If anyone’s going to risk getting dusted, it’ll be me, and not you. Ever.”

“I agree,” Jack said. He got out of the car and held his door for Ralph.

“Ralph, what if we’re wrong?” I asked as he again scrambled over the front seat.

He looked at me. “Then the pack goes down by one.”

“You sound awfully cavalier.”

Ralph closed his eyes. When he opened them again he looked sad. “No. I just think we’re right. And even if we’re not and I get dusted, well….” He sighed. “I’m alone anyway. No one’ll miss me, not really.” He turned and quickly jumped out of the car.

I sat there with a variety of feelings running through me. Guilt was really high on the list. I knew Ralph liked me and I didn’t like him back. But it wasn’t just that. As I sat there and thought about it, the truth of the matter was that I couldn’t come up with anyone Ralph “hung out” with. I had Amanda and Maurice for the off hours, and now Jack, too. And those were just for starters. Clearly Freddy and Sexy Cindy were going to stay together -- maybe not romantically, but they were sort of clinging to each other in an understandable way. Everyone had someone, but as I rolled back through the years, Ralph didn’t. And for all his pack talk, it was an ideal. We had no pack. Werewolves hadn’t run in packs for decades for a variety of reasons.

“Why don’t you like him?” Sexy Cindy asked quietly.

“Ralph?” He was sniffing the Hellfire again. Jack had the Savior Spray. I had no idea what he thought he’d do with it should Ralph and I be wrong about this, but at least he was going to try.

“Yeah.”

“He’s…he’s kind of a dork. And sometimes he’s a real goof, too.” And a werewolf solidarity fanatic, but now probably wasn’t the time to list all his faults.

“I suppose.” She sounded thoughtful. “Only, he’s brave and loyal and it sure seems like he’s got the major crush on you. And he’s willing to risk his life to protect you. I don’t know, I wish I had a guy who was like that interested in me, kind of goofy or dorky or not.”

I almost mentioned that Ralph tended to grandstand any time he was around me, but it died before it could get off my tongue. Because if we were wrong, then Ralph was really offering to die to protect me, and Sexy Cindy was right -- that wasn’t grandstanding, that was heroic.

“Yeah, I guess he is. Jack’s brave, too,” I added apropos of pointing out I was already with someone.

“I guess.” She sounded a little doubtful. Then again, she’d already been dead when he’d grabbed the gun and taken on Slimy. “But…he’s not the one who offered to go through the Hellfire.”

I found myself wishing Amanda and Maurice were here. The need to discuss this with someone was almost overwhelming. But the only someones I could so discuss with were in the backseat.

“We should perhaps call him Cyrano,” Freddy said.

“The guy with the big nose?” Sexy Cindy asked. I was impressed she knew.

“Yes.” Freddy chuckled. “You do know your classics, don’t you, my dear?”

We were spared any more literary comparisons by the fact that Ralph moved into a springing stance. I guessed he’d chosen the find out and/or die fast option. Couldn’t blame him. He sprang and I held my breath.

He sailed through, looking like he was practicing to get the blue ribbon in the dog show agility event. But he didn’t burn and turn to dust. I let my breath out.

Ralph landed, spun and trotted back. Still no harm and no foul. He came over to my side of the car and I opened the door. “It’s a good illusion. It felt hot when I went through it.”

I sniffed him. “You smell wrong. Not of Hellfire, not of anything related to fire, really.”

“Yeah. I’m not sure what base they used for the incantation, but this is warlock-created. I’d bet my tail on it.”

“You feel okay?” He looked okay and he smelled reasonably normal, but it never hurt to check.

Ralph nodded. “I don’t think it’s supposed to do anything more than it did. Keep us out and make us waste time and effort.” He crawled into the car and got into the backseat as Jack tossed the Savior Spray into the trunk.

Jack got back behind the wheel and we started off through the fake Hellfire. I still held my breath as we went through it. So did everyone else, if the collective sigh as we passed through it unscathed was any indication.

We wound up into the Estates through the narrowest road I’d been on in a long time. Any part of the Estates not covered with house or grandiose grounds was covered with nature -- trees, bushes, grass, flowers, anything and everything. I’d heard they imported deer and other benign wildlife, but I’d never hunted up here so couldn’t confirm or deny. It was shady and lovely and all that, but there was no shoulder or turnout. “Why do you think they make this road so hard to use?”

“No idea,” Jack said. “But if we meet another vehicle we’re going to be in trouble.”

“Maybe they restrict how many workmen can come in at a time,” Sexy Cindy suggested.

“Maybe. But you know, one of the things they brag about is how this
isn’t
a gated community. It’s to let the people who live here kid themselves that they’re both exclusive and kind to the poor, or something.”

“Anyone can come to the Estates,” Freddy intoned. “We are an open community.”

“You help write their ad copy?”

“No. Jerry used to say that all the time. He thought it was funny, I suppose.”

I considered this. “Or, the Prince’s side infiltrated up here a lot longer ago than we’re thinking.”

“If his father’s on the Prince’s side, that would make sense,” Jack said.

“Not all rich folks have sold their souls for their money,” Sexy Cindy mentioned. “Just a lot of them.”

We continued on, thankfully meeting no other vehicles. No one other than Bill the Realtor seemed to be out, at least not on or around this tiny stretch of road. We hit the first real street of the Estates and turned off the workman’s road. I couldn’t speak for the others, but I felt relieved.

We meandered through the humongous and ritzy neighborhood, but we remained the only living things so doing. We were still pretty far from the Little Church, but even if the majority were up there, surely someone other than Bill didn’t attend services. “Is this normal for a Sunday morning?”

Jack nodded. “Pretty much. The religious are all in church. The drunks and stoners are sleeping it off. The non-religious are sleeping or prepping to watch whatever sporting event’s on TV. Most Saturday night perps are behind bars. And so on.”