Metal, Page 4

  “Because someone I care about was blamed for her death. Evidently someone’s out there dropping bodies, but not leaving them where they fall. I need to figure out who and why.”

  “Well, I can’t give you much. I’ll do a walk around, try to find something else that stands out, but we should get her out of here before long. It’s gotta be suspicious enough, the house going dark for so long as it is.”

  “How long?”

  “I’d say three days. But the dead were here before that. Something about a steak.”

  Clark swiveled his head around to look toward the kitchen, and Veruca found her gaze following his as if she could see what he could. After a moment, she looked back to Clark and waited him out. His mouth was hanging open slightly, his posture loose. Even his hands were slack over his knees.

  “Someone liked their steak. Rare. Someone … damn, still bloody even. I’m just seeing a bunch of it but the family’s already dead. There’s, like, a shadow. It’s a person, but only the shadow. The house didn’t see much, you know?” Veruca had taken on memopathy a time or two and knew what he meant. Impressions were formed best by the people witnessing them, though sometimes energy itself could stick around and lend itself to a reading.

  “Whoever was here, whoever did this…” Clark said, gesturing to the body without looking down at her. “They didn’t really have a sense of self. They … knew they were here, felt pretty passionate about that bloody meat, but didn’t, like … I don’t know, man. I’m usually better than this. But I do see the dead dudes, three of them that look like brothers or—no. Dad and his sons. Aww.”

  Clark got to his feet and nudged the girl’s shoulder with her foot. The gesture came across to Veruca like he was trying to comfort the corpse.

  “What?”

  “Oh, she was the daughter. I had a sister.”

  Veruca didn’t address the confession. Demons weren’t allowed contact with their families after a certain point. Too many questions were raised.

  “If that’s all you’ve got, we should take care of her. From the sound of it, there’s a reason no one’s missed her.”

  “Yeah, no. Okay. The crew’s gonna be here before long. You might want to scram so they can clean up.”

  “We’ll make ourselves scarce. Thanks for what you could do.”

  “I gotcha,” he said, in lieu of “you’re welcome”.

  Chapter Four

  Finn watched the scenery go by, still stuck on the events of the morning. He’d barely been able to enjoy pelting invading zombies with frozen peas and butter pats and had put his phone away in favor of thinking. Veruca was just as quiet in the seat next to him, though she was going over documents that Finn had come to recognize as hotel paperwork. He couldn’t tell which property she was working on, but he knew it was important. He hesitated a bit before elbowing her gently.

  “They’re gonna take care of the girl?”

  “She’s in good hands,” Veruca assured him, swiping something across her screen, and setting the tablet down. “We have experience with this sort of thing, don’t worry.”

  “You have experience with your boyfriend being accused of murder?”

  “Not specifically, no. This is more than that, though. How much attention were you paying to what Syham told me?”

  “Big guy? Ehm…” Finn shrugged and screwed up his expression to indicate he was taking her question seriously, even though the only answer coming to him was a quick and efficient, “Not a bit.”

  “You remember none of what we talked about,” Veruca said smiling. Finn shrugged and relaxed his expression. She knew him too well. “Several corpses have been found across the states lately, all of them showing clear—well, to us—signs of zombification. Several of them had been used for criminal purposes—bank robbing, abduction, murder, the like—and left for dead once the police tracked them down. To the human authorities, it looks like a bunch of separate cases of spontaneous crime, but it’s hard to imagine, given how rare they are, that this is several different necromancers all jumping on the same bandwagon.”

  “So you think it’s one guy?”

  “I’m assuming, yes. Normally when I see a soul, I can read it. I could tell you who it is instantly, but this is special. This person has mastered necromancy on a level I wasn’t sure is even possible. You’re good, but I would be hard-pressed to suggest you’re able to do something like this.”

  “It’s because I’m good that I couldn’t do something like this.”

  “I don’t mean good morally, darling. Talent—this person is very skilled. I’ve come across ants with more substantial souls inside them. This was…” Veruca trailed off, shaking her head as if she couldn’t even comprehend her own words.

  “So what’s the plan? Call Stefanie, see if she’s gone rogue?”

  “I assure you it isn’t her,” Veruca said.

  “Good, because if you call her she’ll just show up and force me into another lesson. Humiliating. You know she won’t even let me wear a little schoolboy outfit while I learn?”

  “I don’t think typical schoolboy outfits consist of assless shorts that are barely long enough to cover your manhood. I’m not even sure why you have those.”

  Finn snorted and it trailed into a giggle. Veruca knew him so well and always went along with his jokes, often taking them to a whole other level. He considered that he was going to have to track down such an outfit, just to make her laugh.

  “We’re going to the boss’s office, and I’ve already arranged a meeting. I’m to deliver what I collected last night anyway.”

  “Ah,” Finn said, remembering where she’d been the night before. The fact that she collected souls for the Prince of Hell was still a little weird as far as he was concerned. He never knew when she was hauling one around, and the idea of her keeping the essence of a whole other person wrapped around her heart like a snug t-shirt made him a little uncomfortable. “Well. Good. Hopefully he can solve the whole thing and we can go home and fool around.”

  “We could fool around right here in the backseat if you really wanted.”

  “You don’t think the driver would mind?” Finn asked, leaning close. Veruca winked and leaned in to give him a slow kiss that felt like taffy as she pulled away.

  “I pay him enough that he’d give us some tips on our performance if I asked,” she whispered, but pulled away instead of trying to take his pants off. “It’ll have to wait, though. We’ve arrived.”

  Finn didn’t bother to hide his disappointment.

  ****

  The Prince of Hell had come calling a time or two, leaving Finn feeling confused and a little nervous each time. He’d never gotten a straight answer as to what the Prince was up to, what his purpose was, or if he was truly royalty and not just some guy who liked the nickname. Belial was never there for Finn, after all.

  They waited patiently in the waiting room on the top floor of a very tall building, being politely ignored by a secretary going about her business behind a sturdy desk. She worked alone, as far as Finn could tell, and they’d been waiting long enough that Finn wondered if she ever killed time by doing something she shouldn’t have.

  At another time in his life, he’d have offered to smuggle her into the adjacent bathroom and make her day. Things were different with Veruca, though, and his interest in other women had become hypothetical at best.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not sure when Mr. Qureshi will be in,” the secretary said for the third time. Veruca waved her off, shaking her head.

  “It’s no problem. He’s very busy. I’m aware his time in the office is limited.”

  Finn wondered what the man’s business here was that he could afford a secretary whose purpose seemed only to answer the door and apologize for his lateness. Though, considering Finn had witnessed the man appear and disappear at will, and that Veruca had never inferred any sort of irony or facetiousness when referring to him as the Prince of Hell, maybe it was a bad idea to wonder.

  Hell had always seem
ed an abstract concept to Finn. His family, what little he could remember of them through time and head injuries, had pushed the idea of religion as a boogeyman rather than something to be taken seriously. Finn couldn’t recall being legitimately afraid of disrespecting his parents or of not doing his chores, because it never seemed real. Sentience after death and the threat of falling into a deep, dark, demon-filled ditch was just an idea, an idle threat. Perhaps it was just the unlikelihood of Finn himself being acquainted with the Devil that made it seem so silly. He was just a skinny Irishman with a perfect ass, after all. Nothing special.

  Now that he was an adult who could actually raise the dead, train under an actual demon, and have sex with a woman who could cart around actual human souls, though, Hell and a friendship with its leader seemed plausible.

  “Veruca.”

  “Belial,” Veruca said with a smile, pushing to her feet and crossing to meet him at the door. The Prince rubbed a hand casually down her shoulder and looked to the secretary.

  “Joanna, I am sorry for the delay. You should take a long lunch, on me.”

  “Oh, it’s okay,” she said, shaking her head. Her cheeks went a little red and Finn felt his lip tug up in amusement. He’d seen Joanna with Belial three times now and she seemed to go slightly breathless each time.

  “I insist. Have I any calls or meetings?”

  “Nothing new.”

  “Then take the day. Please,” he said, his tone indicating he’d be insulted if she didn’t listen. “I insist.”

  Belial crossed the room to her, smiling with perfect, white teeth, as he put his hand over hers. His dark hair had a slight curl to it and he styled it so that it looked casual and easy, making a woman—hell, making Finn—think that waking up next to him, you’d find he looked just as good. Joanna seemed to lose herself for a moment, looking up into his dark eyes, but she caught herself and nodded.

  “If you insist.”

  “I do. Please, have a good afternoon.”

  It was barely eleven, but she didn’t seem to consider it strange that her oft-absent boss was sending her away from the office so early. Finn was pretty damned charming himself, but Belial was on a different level. It was apparently good to be the Prince.

  Once Joanna had gathered up her things and headed out, Veruca caught Belial’s eye and shook her head.

  “I don’t know why you keep an assistant. You hardly need one. You’re never here.”

  “She keeps out the riffraff.”

  “B,” Veruca said, her tone making it clear she knew that wasn’t the reason. He simply shrugged and lifted his hand to gesture toward her chest.

  “You’ve brought me Denise?”

  “I’ve brought news and questions.”

  “Which would you like to handle first?”

  Veruca shook her head. “It makes no difference.”

  “What’s the news?”

  Veruca glanced at Finn for a moment and shifted her weight to her other leg. Finn wondered if she’d moved herself into the space between him and Belial on purpose or if it was just coincidence.

  “There’s a necromancer out there making some noise. He’s raising at an alarming rate, committing petty crimes, drawing too much attention. I reluctantly took a meeting with a scout last night.”

  “Really?” Belial asked, his brows knitting. “How reluctantly?”

  “He was respectful. Your status carries more than enough weight. Obviously it’s not Finn causing this trouble, but that does present a larger problem.”

  “Who it could be,” Belial said, nodding shallowly. “You’d like me to put someone on this?”

  “I’d actually like to check on it myself.”

  “You would?” Belial asked intrigued.

  “Syham led me to one of the victims, a woman with a sliver of soul inside her so small I wouldn’t have thought it possible. She was animated, however, fully. She knew Finn’s name as well.”

  “Ah,” Belial nodded, understanding her in a way Finn wasn’t sure he did. He was still lost as to why Veruca wanted to deal with a rogue necromancer herself rather than have someone else risk their digits. He felt he was roguish enough, and without all the pesky danger of being mauled by the dead. “Very well. Will you need assistance?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I’m at somewhat of a loss as to where to start, to be honest. The scout was able to give me locations of bodies, but many of them would have been handled by now.”

  “You could raise them again, ask them for information.” Belial looked to Finn as he spoke, though it was clear he was still only addressing Veruca. “It wouldn’t be too difficult.”

  “Maybe not for you,” Finn piped up.

  “No, it wouldn’t be for me, but I have my own affairs to attend. I’ll make sure Stefanie knows to be available to you, should you need her. She has underlings who can handle her responsibilities or at least juggle them while she’s spoken for.”

  “We can muddle through,” Veruca assured him. “Have you heard of something like this happening before?”

  “Oh sure. Necromancers were mostly wiped out many, many years ago, but they still show up here and there. Those who receive the correct training—the rarity of which helps keep them alive—have been known to use their powers for great evil. Revenant armies, undead concubines, zombie slaves, that sort of thing.”

  “Concubines?” Finn squeaked, hoping he was wrong about what that was. Before his brain could stop it, his mouth was running away with the idea. “Like, zombie sex? Sex with the undead? Necrophilia?”

  “A skilled necromancer would have no trouble with something like that, yes.”

  Finn felt his eye twitch with disgust. “I’d have a lot of trouble with that.”

  “Well, you’re not exactly skilled yet, are you?” Belial smiled and Finn realized he was teasing. Deciding to pretend he’d been kidding about the whole thing, that no one was raising the dead just to pork their cold bodies, Finn swallowed his disgust.

  “What happened to these others?” Veruca asked, getting the conversation back on track. Finn fixed a serious expression on his face and did his best to listen intently rather than imagine himself getting down with any of the rotting bodies he’d been forced to raise as a child. The expression only helped minutely, so he focused harder.

  “The Fairies took them out, or they got themselves caught and burned or beheaded. Despite what the humans believe about necromancy and Satanism and deals with the Devil, I had nothing to do with their behavior. I keep myself pretty busy, as do my demons. None of them came to me asking any favors, so they were on their own. I’m surprised the fae came to you, actually. Normally they have no interest in engaging with our side. Their attempt to wipe out necromancers and Reapers was a guerilla tactic against us. It’s why I’ve been more careful to sweep you up before they discover you.”

  “You didn’t scoop me up!” Finn protested, suddenly horrified by the idea that the big hairy scout could have been planning to behead him.

  “Reapers,” Belial clarified. “Necromancers, like I said, require training before they’re a threat to the balance. You were visited by scouts, yes? As a child.”

  Finn gulped, knowing his serious expression had fled. “When I was little, yeah. They told me they’d be watching me, but they didn’t hurt me.”

  “You weren’t a threat. This other necromancer is.” Belial turned back to Veruca, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. “I would assume the scout came to you only out of fear of retribution. You’ve got a pet necromancer now, so they may assume you’re recruiting others. Whatever goodwill you might have built up with them could be in danger. You should watch your step.”

  “I always do.”

  “Would you like some extra oomph?”

  Veruca smiled and shook her head. “No. You can take Denise and keep whomever else you were thinking of passing along. I’m sure I can handle this on my own.”

  “I never doubted, but it doesn’t hurt to offer.” Belial pressed a hand over Ver
uca’s heart, watching her intently for a moment. Finn wondered if something unsaid passed between them. Veruca winced slightly, her shoulders going tight, before she took a breath and appeared to relax.

  Chapter Five

  “He’s really the Prince of Hell?”

  “We’ve been over this, darling.”

  “Yes, but the Prince of Hell! Have you been?” Finn perked up at the idea, his gaze fixed on Veruca as she tapped something into her phone. “To Hell, I mean. Is it … nice?”

  “It’s not exactly a resort town,” Veruca said, smiling up at him briefly before going back to her phone.

  “Well, of course not. I wouldn’t assume it’s got a stretch of hotels and endless parades of coconut-bra-wearing native girls strutting their stuff and jiggling the wallets right out of the pockets of fat white men.” Finn waved the idea off, though he’d come back to that jiggling bra thought later. “But if he’s the Prince of the whole place and you’re, like, his Gal Friday, surely he’s taken you on a tour?”

  “I’ve never asked. Nor,”—Veruca said, catching his eye—“has he told me to go to Hell. We’ve got things to do, Finn. Someone out there thinks you’re responsible for killing people, and so far we have no proof you’re not. Focus.”

  “I’m the proof!” Finn protested, all thoughts of Hell as some cheaper alternative to Hawaii vanishing from his head. “I’ll take a—whatsit? The—with the wires and all the questions. Polygamy-graph. I’ll take a lie detector and everything. I haven’t killed anyone. I only get my hands on people after they’re dead. That did not come out right.”

  Veruca snorted as she locked her phone and slipped it into her bag. “Very little does with you. It’s a polygr—never mind. I’ve got someone gathering some things of yours from home. We’re going to stay in the city for a bit since this seems to be where the killer struck last. We’ll be meeting some help for breakfast.”

  “Donald?” Finn perked up slightly, both because he liked Donald as a person and because the man carried a gun and had saved Finn’s bacon before. He had some sort of power, reading minds or emotions or something. Finn hadn’t asked too much about it, but he figured it would come in handy in proving his innocence.