The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 2: Cold Wars (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #2) (16 page)

“Good heavens,” Weatherby whispered. “The scales, used for weighing souls. The Feather of Truth.” He pointed to the red sphere. “And the heart of a good, innocent person.”

“What the hell is it doing?” I asked. “And what’s with the chains?”

“The chains are made of electrum, a combination of gold and silver renowned for its magical properties. Nestor Caduceus must be using them to hijack the process of judgment, and then use the magical power to bend fate – granting his casino good luck and turning fate itself against his rivals.” He pointed to the heart. “But that organ seems drained of energy. See how it sags and the blood trickles out of it.”

I didn’t want to get too close, but I could see that the heart was nearly free of blood. Weatherby continued, staring at the organ. “It must be a heart from a fantastically pure person,” he said. “Someone who hasn’t sinned, or even felt temptation. And it is very small.” He looked up at me. His voice broke. “God,” he said. “It’s a child’s heart.”

Both of us exchanged a glance. Nestor Caduceus seemed to take an interest in Henry Wallace, and now I knew why. He needed the hearts of children to power his machine. And we had just left poor Henry Wallace all alone, on the casino floor — a perfect target for Caduceus.

Without another word, we turned and ran to the doors, then started to pound down the stairs. I reached into my coat, grabbing the handles of my automatics. Weatherby hurried ahead of me, his long legs leaping over the stairs as we ran furiously for the first floor. I was a sucker, a chump, an idiot – and an innocent kid was gonna be gutted in some deranged Egyptian ceremony because of it.

We ran on, dashing down the stairwell, and passing the second floor. I could already tell it was gonna be too late as we neared the first floor. A small circle of curious patrons had formed around Henry Wallace. A half-a-dozen Ushabti were there with the boy, and Nestor Caduceus had his hand on Henry Wallace’s slim shoulder. Caduceus was smiling, looking more like a serpent than ever, and I could tell Henry Wallace was smart enough to be nervous.

“Don’t worry, my boy,” Caduceus said. “Just follow me into my office, and we’ll keep you safe and happy until your father calls for you.”

“W-well, I’m really not sure. Maybe I should wait a little, just in case—” Henry Wallace started.

“Nonsense. Just follow me, little one, and all will be well.” Caduceus started to steer the kid away.

I motioned for Weatherby to stop. I had a feeling we were gonna have to shoot it out to save Henry Wallace, but I didn’t like the odds. The Ushabti were scattered through the casino floor, all of them armed and ready for a fight. It would be me against a small army of guns, and there was no time to find cover. Weatherby clenched his teeth and reached for his revolver. He didn’t care if he had to take on an army and a half. He’d start shooting and get us both killed – for a chance at keeping a child safe.

But then a clear feminine voice cut through the crowd. “Oh, there you are! We’ve been looking all over for you!” We watched as a teenage girl, the same age as Weatherby, slid through the crowd and ran to Henry Wallace’s side. She grabbed his hand, pulling him away from Caduceus. “I’m so sorry,” she told Caduceus. “He just slipped away. Let’s get outside. We’ve got the car waiting.”

She was a slim girl, with her light brown hair in two long braids. She wore a red felt vest and a tie under a small gabardine coat, and a long pleated skirt. She looked a little too smart for sock hops, and more like she would spend her free time in a library. Henry Wallace took her hand and she gave him a kindly smile, then steered him towards the door. Caduceus watched them go. I had a feeling he would have made a move against her, if a hundred tourist eyes hadn’t been watching. Gunning down a teenage girl and little boy would probably bring bad publicity.

Weatherby and I exchanged a glance, as if to make sure that we had seen the same thing. Then we hurried down the stairs, dashed through the casino floor and ran outside into the night air. The girl and Henry Wallace were at the bottom of the stairwell – right next to a black Rambler Sedan resting near the curb.

“Wait!” Weatherby cried. “That child is under my care!”

The girl looked at Weatherby and gave him a sardonic grin. She put her arm around Henry Wallace’s shoulders. “Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it,” she said. She smiled. “I’m sorry. I should explain myself. My name is Evelyn Dearborn, and my father is—”

But Weatherby and Henry Wallace beat her to it. “Doc Darby Dearborn, the world-renowned, globetrotting archaeologist, antiquarian, and adventurer,” Weatherby said, flushing as he smiled. “By all the gods and devils, Miss Dearborn, I read your father’s books when I was a boy.”

“You still are a boy…” Evelyn pointed out.

“Papa, I mean, my father bought me some of those books too!” Henry Wallace added. “They’re really good. Is he actually your father, ma’am?”

Evelyn Dearborn nodded. She pointed to the Rambler sedan, and we moved down the steps to stand next to it. I didn’t know Doc Dearborn from Adam, and was still a little wary. These people had been following us, and for all I knew, their intentions were as honorable as Caduceus’. I looked to Weatherby. “Who the hell is Doc Darby Dearborn?” I asked.

“You never heard of him? I find that unsurprising, as you are attracted to the simple and martial pursuits, and care little for esoteric studies and research into ancient civilizations.” Weatherby laid it on a little thick but I kept listening. “Doc Dearborn was an archaeologist and adventurer, active in the late thirties and during the war. I devoured his books, detailing his exploration of hidden ruins, encounters with lost civilizations and strange beasts, and all manner of adventures. I have no idea what he – and his daughter – are doing in Las Vegas.”

We reached the curb and the Rambler sedan. The window rolled down and a head poked out. It was of an elderly fellow, with a neat white moustache and goatee. He had a pinched face, and bright eyes. He wore a pith helmet and a khaki shirt under a long coat. “Evelyn, my shimmering jewel, what happened in there?” His bright eyes flashed in my direction. “And who are your friends?”

“I just met them, Daddy,” Evelyn said. “The little one was about to be taken by Caduceus. I know we’re not sure about Caduceus, but I judged it would be best to take him away from the casino floor.”

“I’m sure about him, Doc Dearborn. And I don’t like what I know,” I said. “I’m Mort Candle. The kid’s Weatherby Stein and the smaller kid’s Henry Wallace Baum. We’re detectives, investigating the Duat Grand. It sounds like you and your daughter are doing the same. Want to go somewhere quiet to exchange notes?”

Doc Dearborn looked us over and looked to Evelyn. She gave a quick nod and he agreed. “There’s a coffee and pie diner a little ways off the Strip,” Dearborn explained. “It’s not terrible. Follow me and we’ll go there directly. Come along, Evelyn. We mustn’t keep our new friends waiting.”

Evelyn gave us a polite nod and headed to her car. They sped away, and I moved down to the Roadmaster to follow them. Weatherby’s eyes were fixed on the spot of sidewalk where Evelyn had been. I could tell the kid was dizzy over her. “You like her?” I asked, as I started the engine.

“Um, well…” He was flustered and fidgeted in the passenger. “She seems to know exactly what she is doing,” he finally managed to say.

“I got to meet Doc Dearborn,” Henry Wallace chirped. The kid was in the back, surrounded once again by my guns. “That is just swell. I bet Papa won’t even believe it!”

“Just wait until we tell you what’s on the sixth floor of the Duat Grand,” I said. “And then we’ll talk about what’s believable.”

After a little driving we reached the all-night diner. The joint was empty, except for a fat man in a stained apron at the counter. He gave us a dirty look until I ordered a coffee for me and Doc Dearborn, and then he slapped down the mugs on our table in the back. I took a sip and it tasted like mud. I let it rest on the table and thicken, and then looked up at Dearborn. He smiled.

“I’m gonna tell you the whole damn story,” I said, reaching for a cigarette. I noticed Weatherby was staring at Evelyn Dearborn. Whenever she looked back at him, he busied himself with staring at the napkins and his face went red. “It’s crazy, but I’m guessing you’ve seen your share of crazy things, Doc. So I’ll bump gums and you’ll listen.”

I told him about Don Vizzini giving us the case, and our initial search. I told him about the sixth floor, with the set of enchanted scales, and the pit, and the bloody sacrifice of a child’s heart that kept it all working. Doc Dearborn nodded as he listened, an ivory pipe smoking in one of his weathered hands. Evelyn was just as interested, and when I finished, she was the first to speak.

“I believe we know the identity of Mr. Caduceus,” she said. “He’s Nepher-Ka, a heretical minor pharaoh from the Middle Kingdom period of Ancient Egypt.” She talked like he was reciting her times tables. “Nepher-Ka came to power under suspicious circumstances, murdering the previous pharaoh with a squad of trained and vicious baboons. Once he came to power, he abolished worship of the old gods and declared that everyone follow Apep.”

“The Primal God of Chaos and Darkness,” Weatherby whispered. “Often depicted as a serpent.”

“Exactly,” Evelyn agreed, giving Weatherby a small smile. “You know your stuff.”

“He’s a Stein, my jewel,” Dearborn said. “The last male of his line. They know quite a bit of these matters.” He puffed his ivory pipe. “Please continue.”

“Well, Nepher-Ka’s reign ended in bloodshed. The royal guards turned against him and killed him. But he had time to work dark enchantments, promising that life would be returned to him if his sarcophagus was ever breached. And about a month ago, in a traveling museum and sideshow in Reno, that very thing happened. My father and I attempted to stop it, but the owner ignored us. Nepher-Ka emerged, sucked out the lives of several people and escaped. And now he’s working here.”

I nodded. It all made sense – given how nuts everything else was. “You daughter knows the score,” I told Doc Dearborn.

“She does indeed, sir. My daughter exceeds myself in knowledge and adventuring ability. After the death of her dear mother, I decided to raise her myself, so she might learn by my side, as we ventured across the world. She has proven invaluable.”

“Oh Daddy,” Evelyn said, with an embarrassed shake of her head.

Weatherby considered the information. “So, now Nepher-Ka – aka Nestor Caduceus—is using the hearts of children in a ritual to ensure good luck for his casino and the downfall of all others. Doubtlessly, he’s just warming up the machine. Perhaps in another month, he may have the entire city of Las Vegas firmly in his skeletal grasp. Further dark rituals may give him unimaginable power.”

“So we stop him,” Henry Wallace announced. He was sitting between me and Weatherby, and he looked around nervously as we all stared at him. He looked at his shoes. “That seems the right thing to do. Maybe we can go to the police, or the guy who hired you, Mr. Candle, but we have to stop him.”

Doc Dearborn slapped the table. “A magnificent suggestion,” he said. “Mr. Candle, I believe you are not unused to violence in your line of work?”

“W-we’ve fought our fair share of monsters,” Weatherby said, nodding rapidly. He was staring straight at Evelyn while he talked. The kid was trying to impress her. “And we’ve thus far managed to remain alive.”

He spoke too soon. The window next to our booth shattered and something furry and red and gleaming swept into the diner. It landed on my side and knocked me out of the booth, then down on the hard tiled floor. Fighting the thing was like wrestling a pit bull, and it clawed my face and reached down, a broad snout opening to reveal long fangs as black as coal. The whole beast burned with arcane energy, its fur giving off sparks and bits of smoke. I realized what it was in the second before it almost ate half of my face. The beast was some kind of baboon, enchanted and let loose to destroy us.

I slammed my fist into its throat. Its fur felt like steel wool, and burned my fingers, but I forced those fangs back from my head. Then I drew out the Ka-Bar from my boot. I’d be damned if I let this monkey munch on me. I slashed open its throat, then hacked off the tip of its nose and pushed it away. The baboon shook crazily, smoldering away into nothing as I came to my feet and drew out one of my Colt .45s.

The guy at the counter was screaming at us, but I wasn’t listening. The blazing baboons were charging into the diner, leaping in through windows and crawling past the open door. Doc Dearborn pulled a long, ivory-handled machete from inside his tan leather jacket. His frail arms shook as he slashed about, hacking at the baboon close to him.

“These are servants of Babi, the baboon god of the underworld!” Doc Dearborn cried. “Nepher-Ka’s dark magic is more powerful than I thought!”

Weatherby was reaching into his jacket, struggling to hurry as a baboon stalked towards Evelyn. He finally pulled out a necklace bearing an ankh and tossed it to her. She held it out to the baboon and hissed something in ancient Egyptian, and the baboon vanished in a puff of dark red smoke.