The Lunatic Cafe, Page 29

  "What are you talking about?" Dolph asked.

  I shook my head. "Just listen." I told him everything about the disappearances. Ending with, "Two more shifters have gone missing. I think whoever skinned the naga thought he was a lycanthrope. It is possible by magic to take a shifter's skin and use it to shapeshift yourself. You get all of the advantages, greater strength, speed, etc.... and you are not tied to the moon."

  "Why didn't it work with the naga?" Zerbrowski asked.

  "He's immortal. The shifter has to die at the end of the spell."

  "We know why. Now, where the hell are they?" Dolph asked.

  "I've got an address," I said.

  "How?"

  "I'll explain on the way. The spell doesn't work until dark, but we can't take the chance they'll keep them alive. They have to be worried that the naga healed enough to talk."

  "After seeing him last night, I wouldn't be," Zerbrowski said.

  "You're not a witch," I said.

  We left. I would have liked Edward at my back. If we did find renegade witches and a few shapeshifters on the night of the full moon, Edward at my back was not a bad idea. But I couldn't figure out how to manage it. Dolph and Zerbrowski were no slouches, but they were cops. They aren't allowed to shoot people without giving them every opportunity to give up. Elvira Drew had skinned a naga. I wasn't sure I wanted to give her an opportunity. I wasn't sure we'd survive it.

  36

  ELVIRA DREW'S HOUSE was a narrow two-story set off from the road by a thick line of bushes and trees. You couldn't even see the yard before you turned into the driveway. Woods stretched out all around the small yard, as if someone had put the house here and forgotten to tell anybody.

  A patrol car followed us down the gravel driveway. Dolph parked behind a vivid green Grand Am. The car matched her eyes.

  There was a For Rent sign in the yard. Another lay beside it, waiting to be stuck in the ground. It would probably go out by the road.

  Two clothes bags hung inside the car. The backseat was packed with boxes. A quick getaway was in the offing.

  "If she's a murderer, why'd she give you her actual address?" Zerbrowski asked.

  "We check out clients. They have to have a place of residence or some way of proving who they are. We demand more ID than most banks."

  "Why?"

  "Because every once in a while we get a crazy. Or a tabloid reporter. We have to know who we're dealing with. I bet she tried to pay cash with no ID and when asked for three forms of it, she wasn't prepared."

  Dolph led the way to the door. We followed behind like good soldiers. Officer Kirlin was one of the uniforms. Her partner was an older guy with greying hair and a round little belly. I bet it didn't shake like a bowlful of jelly. He had a sour expression on his face that said he'd seen it all and didn't like any of it.

  Dolph knocked on the door. Silence. He knocked harder. The door trembled. Elvira opened the door. She was wearing a brilliant green robe, tied at the waist. Her makeup was still perfect. The polish on her fingernails matched the robe. Her long blond hair was combed straight back, held from her face with a scarf that was just a touch bluer green than the robe. Her eyes blazed with the color.

  Dolph muttered, "Eyes like the ocean."

  "Excuse me, what's all this about?"

  "May we come in, Ms. Drew?"

  "Whatever for?"

  There hadn't been time to get a warrant. Dolph wasn't even sure we could have gotten one with what we had. The color of someone's eyes wasn't exactly proof.

  I sort of peeked around Dolph, and said, "Hello, Ms. Drew, we need to ask you a few questions about Louis Fane."

  "Ms. Blake, I didn't know you were with the police."

  She smiled, I smiled. Was Louie here? Was she stalling while someone killed him? Dammit. If the police hadn't been here, I'd have pulled the gun and gone in. There are disadvantages to being law abiding.

  "We're checking into the disappearance of Mr. Fane. You were the last one to see him."

  "Oh, dear." She didn't back away from the door.

  "May we come in and ask you a few questions?" Dolph asked.

  "Well, I don't know what I can tell you. Mr. Fane never made our meeting. I didn't see him at all."

  She stood there like a pretty smiling wall.

  "We need to come in and look around, Ms. Drew, just in case."

  "Do you have a warrant?"

  Dolph looked at her. "No, Ms. Drew, we do not."

  Her smile was dazzling. "Then I'm sorry, but I can't let you in."

  I grabbed the front of her robe, yanking it tight enough to know she wasn't wearing a bra. "We either go past you or through you."

  Dolph's hand descended on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ms. Drew. Ms. Blake gets a little overzealous." The words were squeezed out between his teeth, but he said them.

  "Dolph..."

  "Let her go, Anita, right now."

  I looked up into her strange eyes. She was still smiling but there was something else there now. Fear. "If he dies, you die."

  "They don't put you to death for suspicions," she said.

  "I wasn't talking about a legal execution."

  Her eyes widened. Dolph jerked back on my shoulder. He pushed me down the steps. Zerbrowski was already apologizing for my faux pas.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dolph asked.

  "He's in there, I know it."

  "You don't know it. I've called in for a warrant. Until we get it, unless she lets us in or he comes to a window and yells for help, we can't go in. That's the law."

  "Well, it sucks."

  "Maybe, but we're the police. If we don't obey the law, then who else will?"

  I hugged myself, fingers digging into my elbows. It was either that or run up and smash Elvira Drew's perfect face in. Louie was in there, and it was my fault.

  "Take a walk, Anita, cool off."

  I looked up at him. He could have told me to sit in the car, but he hadn't. I tried to read his face, but it had gone cop blank. "A walk, good idea."

  I walked towards the trees. No one stopped me. Dolph didn't call me back. He had to know what I'd do. I walked into the winter-bare trees. Melt fell in droplets onto my head and face. I walked out until I couldn't see them clearly anymore. In winter you can catch glimpses of things for yards, but it was far enough for our little game of pretend.

  I angled back for the back of the house. The melting snow soaked into my Nikes. The leaves were a soggy mat underfoot. I had both guns and two knives. I'd replaced the one that Gretchen never returned. They were a set of four that I'd had made for me. Hard to find a knife with a high enough silver content to kill monsters and still take a hard edge.

  But I couldn't kill anyone. My job was to get inside, find Louie, and yell for help. If someone in the house yelled for help, the police could come in. Those were the rules. If Dolph hadn't been scared they'd kill Louie, he wouldn't have let me do this. But law or no law, sitting outside while your suspect kills her next victim was hard to swallow.

  I hunkered down at the tree line looking at the back of the house. A back door led onto an enclosed porch. There was a door with glass in it that led into the house, and a second door off to one side. Most houses in St. Louis have basements. Some of the older houses originally had only outside access to them. Add a little porch, add a little door. If I was hiding somebody, a basement sounded like a good place. If it was a broom closet, I just wouldn't go in.

  I checked the upper-story windows. The drapes were closed. If there were people up there watching, I couldn't see them. Here was hoping they couldn't see me.

  I crossed the open ground without getting out a gun. They were witches. Witches didn't shoot you, as a general rule. In fact, witches, real witches, didn't practice a lot of violence. A Wiccan wouldn't have had anything to do with human sacrifice. But the word witch means a lot of different things. Some of them can get pretty scary, but they seldom shoot you.

  I knelt by the screen door that led ont
o the porch. I held my hand as close to the door handle as I could without touching it. No heat, no...hell there's no word for it. But there was no spell on the handle. Even good witches will sometimes bespell their outer doors so they're either alerted to a burglar's presence or some attachment occurs. Say, you break in and don't take a thing. The spell will stick to you and let the witch and friends find you. Bad witches can put worse things on their doors. We'd already established what sort of witches were inside, so caution seemed best.

  I slipped the tip of my knife through the edge of the door. A little jiggling and the door opened. No breaking yet, but I had definitely entered. Would Dolph arrest me for it? Probably not. If Elvira forced me to shoot her out of sight of witnesses, he might.

  I went to the second door. The one I hoped led to the basement. I ran my hand over it, and there it was. A spell. I'm not a witch. I don't know how to decipher spells. Sensing them is about my limit. Oh, one other thing. I can break them. But it's a raw burst of power directed at the spell. I just call up whatever it is that allows me to raise the dead and grab the doorknob. It's worked up to this point, but it's like kicking in a door without knowing what's on the other side. Eventually, you're going to get a shotgun blast in your face.

  The real problem was even if I got past it safely, whoever laid the spell would know it. Hell, a good witch would feel the buildup of power before I touched it. If Louie was behind this door, great. I'd go in and keep him safe until my screams brought the cavalry. If he wasn't behind this door, they might panic and kill him.

  Most witches, good or bad, are nature worshipers to a certain extent. If it had been Wiccans, their ceremonial area would have been outside somewhere. But for this, darkness and an enclosed space might suffice.

  If I had a human sacrifice lying about, I'd want him stored as close to the ceremonial area as possible. It was a gamble. If I was wrong and they killed Louie...No. No dwelling on worst-case scenarios.

  It was still daylight. It was afternoon. The winter sunlight was grey and soft, but it wasn't dark. My abilities don't come out until after dark. I can sense the dead and certain other things in daylight, but I'm limited. The last time I did this, it had been dark. I approached magic the same way I did everything else. Straight ahead, brute force. What I was really gambling on was that my powers were greater than whoever laid the spell. Sort of the theory that I could take a better beating than she or he could dish out.

  Was that true in daylight? We'd find out. Question, was the spell just on the doorknob? Maybe. I'd have locked the door, spell or no spell. Why not just cut out the middle man?

  I drew the Browning and backed up. I centered myself, concentrating on a point near the lock but not on it. I waited until that piece of wood was all there was. There was a quality of silence in my ears. I kicked it with everything I had. The door shuddered but did not open. Two more kicks and the wood splintered. The lock gave.

  It wasn't a burst of light. If someone had been watching, they wouldn't have seen a damn thing but me falling backwards. My whole body tingled as if I'd put my finger in an electric socket.

  I heard running footsteps in the house. I crawled to the open door. I dragged myself to my feet using the banister. A wash of cool air swept against my face. I started down the steps before I was sure I could walk. I had to find Louie before Elvira caught me. If I didn't find proof, she could have me arrested for breaking and entering and we'd be worse off than we were before.

  I stumbled down the stairs, one hand in a death grip on the banister, gun in the other. The darkness was velvet black. I couldn't see a damn thing beyond the finger of daylight. Even my night vision needs some light. I heard footsteps behind me.

  "Louie, are you down here?"

  Something moved in the darkness below me. It sounded big. "Louie?"

  Elvira was standing at the head of the stairs. She was framed by the light, as if standing in a body-sized halo. "Ms. Blake, I must insist you get off my property this moment."

  My skin was still twitching with whatever had been on the lock. Only my hand on the banister kept me standing. "You do the spell on the door?"

  "Yes."

  "You're good."

  "Not good enough apparently. Now, really I must insist you come up the stairs and get off my property."

  A low growl came up from the darkness. It didn't sound much like a rat, and it certainly didn't sound human.

  "Come out, come out, wherever you are," I said.

  The growling got louder, closer. Something large and furry darted across the pale band of light. The glimpse was enough. I could always say I thought it was Louie. I leaned against the banister and screamed. I screamed for help with every ounce of sound I could make.

  Elvira darted a look behind her. I heard the distant yells of police coming in the front door.

  "Curse you."

  "Words are cheap," I said.

  "It will be more than words when I have the time."

  "Knock yourself out."

  She ran into the house, not away. Was I wrong? Had Louie been inside all along, and I was down here with a different fur ball? Was it Jason?

  "Jason?"

  Something came to the stairs and peered up into the dim light. It was a dog. A big, furry mutt dog, the size of a pony, but it wasn't a shapeshifter.

  "Damn."

  It growled at me again. I got up and started to back up the stairs. I didn't want to hurt it if I didn't have to. Where was Dolph? He should have been back here by now.

  The dog let me ease back up the steps. Apparently it was only supposed to protect the basement. Fine with me.

  "Nice doggy."

  I eased up until I could touch the broken door. I slammed it shut, holding the doorknob. The dog hit it with a roaring crash. Its own weight kept the door closed.

  I opened the back door, slowly. The kitchen was long, narrow, and mostly white. Voices came from farther in the house. A low growl filled the house, reverberating. The sound raised the hair on my neck.

  "No one has to get hurt here," Dolph said.

  "That's right," Elvira said. "Leave now, and no one gets hurt."

  "We can't do that."

  A hallway made up of one wall and the stairs led out of the kitchen towards the living room and the voices. I checked the stairs, empty. I kept going, easing towards the voices. The growl came again, closer.

  Dolph yelled, "Anita, get your butt up here!"

  It made me jump. He couldn't have seen me yet. The entrance to the living room was an open doorway. I went to one knee and peered around the wall. Elvira stood facing them. A wolf the size of a pony was at her side. If you just glanced at them, you might mistake it for the big dog. It was a good cover. Neighbors see it and think the wolf is a dog.

  The other one was a leopard. A black leopard that put every Halloween kitty-cat to shame. It had backed Zerbrowski into a corner. Its slick, furred back came to his waist. Big as a hellcat. Jesus.

  Why hadn't they shot? Police were allowed to shoot for self-protection.

  "Are you Louie Fane or Jason?" Dolph asked. I realized he was asking the shapeshifters. I hadn't told him what kind of shifter Louie was, and Jason was a wolf. The wolf could be Jason. Though why he'd be helping Elvira I did not know. Maybe I didn't have to know.

  I stood up and came around the corner. Maybe the movement was too sudden. Maybe the cat had just grown impatient. The leopard leaped at Zerbrowski. His gun fired.

  The wolf turned on me. It all slowed down. I had forever to look down the barrel and pull the trigger. Every gun in the room fired. The wolf went down with a bullet in its brain from me. I wasn't sure who else had gotten a piece of it.

  Zerbrowski's screams filled the echoing silence. The leopard was on him, slashing at him.

  Dolph fired one more time, then threw the gun to the floor and waded in. He grabbed for the cat and it turned on him, slashing with daggerlike claws. He screamed but didn't back off.

  "Dolph, down, and I'll nail it." He tried to get out
of the way but the cat leaped on him, carrying them both to the floor. I walked forward, gun extended. They were a rolling mass. If I shot Dolph, he'd be just as dead as the leopard would make him.

  I knelt by them and shoved the gun into that warm, furred body. Claws slashed my arm, but I pulled the trigger twice. The thing slumped, twitched, and died.

  Dolph blinked up at me. There was a bloody slash on his cheek. But he was alive. I got to my feet. My left arm was numb, which meant it was really hurt. When the numbness wore off, I'd want to be somewhere with doctors.

  Zerbrowski lay on his back. There was a lot of blood. I fell to my knees beside him. I laid the Browning on the ground and searched for the big pulse in his neck. It was there, thready, but there. I wanted to cry with relief, but there was no time. There was a black stain of blood near the lower center of his body. I pulled his coat back and nearly threw up on him. Wouldn't he laugh at that? The cat had damn near eviscerated him. His intestines bulged out at the tear.

  I tried to pull my jacket off to hold over the wound, but my left arm didn't want to work. "Someone help me." No one did.

  Officer Kirlin had Ms. Drew handcuffed. Her green robe was gaping open and it was clear she had nothing on under it. She was crying, crying for her fallen comrades.

  Dolph said, "He alive?"

  "Yeah."

  "I've called for an ambulance," the male uniform said.

  "Get over here and help me stop the bleeding."

  He just looked at me, sort of shamefaced but neither he nor Kirlin moved to help.

  "What the fuck is the matter with you two? Help them."

  "We don't want to get it."

  "It?"

  "The disease," he said.

  I crawled back to the leopard. It looked big, even dead. Nearly three times the size of a natural cat. I fumbled at its belly, and found the catch. Not a button, not a belt, but a catch where the fur peeled away. Inside was a naked human body. I pulled the skin back so they could see. "They're shapeshifters but not lycanthropes. It's a spell. It's not contagious, you chicken-shit son of a bitch."

  "Anita, don't pick on him," Dolph said. His voice sounded so strange, so distant that I minded him.

  The man pulled off his own jacket and sort of laid it on top of Zerbrowski. He pressed down, but gingerly, as if he still didn't trust the blood.

  "Get away from him." I leaned on the coat, using my body weight to hold his intestines inside. They moved under my hand like something alive, sqishy and so warm they were hot.