Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (3 page)

I nodded. “I know.”

“How is she? Sofi, I mean.” His voice was tentative now.

“Still in the hospital,” I said. “She’s very weak, but they say she has a good chance of getting better. With time.”

He nodded. “She is a fighter, your grandmother. Give her my good wishes.”

As I walked up the hall to my apartment, I put a hand instinctively on my gun. There was the hulking shape of a man leaning up against the wall by my door. He looked like a clean hobo. His face was unshaven and his hair was shaggy, curling around the nape of his neck in a thoroughly unkempt manner, giving the illusion of a war on his head instead of hair. He wore a faded old army jacket that had large pockets all over the front. He had a tattered brown satchel slung over his shoulder. And he was huge. He was at least as tall as the doorway. He looked up as I came closer.

“Finally,” he said in a deep voice. “You’re late.”

“For what?” I said.

“For me.”

“And who are you?”

“Bobby Gage. Sam sent me.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “He mentioned you. I thought you’d be—”

“Thought I’d be what?” he growled.

“Shorter,” I said quickly. “I didn’t know you’d be so tall.”

He grunted. “So, you gonna invite me in or are you gonna stare at me all day? Smells like goddamn sauerkraut in this hall. Can we go inside?”

“Oh. Sure.” I took out my keys and unlocked the door. Gage walked in and looked around, taking in the messy living room, holding the bag on his shoulder close to his body. It looked like it contained something heavy, but he carried it lightly. He nodded at the room. I was not what you’d call an organized person. Sofi had always taken care of that department. But since she’d been in the hospital I’d made an effort to be tidy. It was not a successful attempt.

“Homey,” said Gage.

“Sorry about the mess.”

“What mess?” he said, wandering into the kitchen. I followed.

“You want a cup of coffee?” I said. “It’s not fresh, but it’s still hot.”

“Yep. Black,” he said, helping himself to a chair at the table. He looked like a giant sitting in our little kitchen. Apparently his ability wasn’t good manners.

“So you worked for Sam before?” I said, setting his cup in front of him. I sat down with my own.

“Sure,” he said, taking a sip. “Damn!” he said. “You make a fine cup of coffee.”

“Er, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “I been working for Sam for a couple years now. He’s a good boss, far as bosses go. I was living on the streets when he found me. Not a penny to my name. Come a long way since then.” He nodded to the badge on the table. I’d forgotten all about it in my excitement about the money. “See you got paid,” he said. “Feels good, don’t it?”

“To get paid?”

“To get off that goddamn list,” he said.

“The Registry?” I said.

He nodded. “The money’s great and all, but the day I got off the Registry, I felt like I could do anything. I would have killed a man to get off that damn thing. Turns out, I just had to find a couple of demons. Piece of cake. Been working for Sam ever since.”

“Demons?” I said.

“Yep. I’m pretty handy with the books. You know, Grimoires, spell books. Stuff like that.”

“So you just read the books? That doesn’t seem too hard.”

“You wouldn’t think so,” he said, patting the satchel on his lap. “But there’s more to it. The languages are old. Older than the dead languages, older than anything that anyone knows. And they’re not teachable. It is what it is. You either have it or you don’t. I have it.”

“So you know the language?”

“Nah. I just know. I look at it and I know.”

“But if someone really set their mind on it, couldn’t they figure it out too?”

He shook his head. “More to it than that, sister. You either have it or you don’t. It’s in here,” he said, putting a fist to his chest, just over his heart. “You could say the words, but nothing would happen. The key to being a Caster is all in being able to understand what you’re saying. To feel it deep inside you, like there’s a river welling up inside you and if you don’t do the magic the water’s gonna tear you apart. That’s how I feel when I find the right spell. But there is a downside.”

“What’s that?”

“You feel everything you’re doing, like you’re doing it to yourself. Location spells are easy. It’s the darker stuff that can be really painful. If you hurt someone with magic, you feel it just like they do. There are no marks, of course. But you feel it. And you never completely forget that feeling.”

“So what happens if you kill someone with magic?” I said. “Do you die too?”

“No, you don’t die. But it feels like dying.” He shifted in his chair, drained his cup of coffee, seemed to have to shrug something off. He got up and got another cup of coffee. “That’s why guys like your dad, they’re the toughest of the tough. Summoners, you know.”

“You know about Alexei?” I said, suddenly on edge.

“Famous, ain’t he? Everyone knows about him. It’s not anyone that can Summon. Fact, he’s the only that’s done it and lived. We should probably talk to him actually. So what do you do?”

“What?” I said, snapped out of my thoughts.

“You know, what’s your thing? Your skill that Sam needed.”

“Oh. I can see things. Dead things. Ghosts, spirits, things like that.”

“I can see how that would come in handy in your line of work. Less detecting to do. Just go ask a dead guy.”

“Yeah, it’s worked out peachy for me,” I said. “Why do we have to talk to Alexei? Don’t you know about this stuff? Magic and all.”

“Ain’t my usual kind of magic, sister. Deep stuff here. Your dad might be useful. And I don’t know if you stopped to consider this, but maybe old Alexei ain’t as locked up as you think he is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, someone cracked open a seal, opened a gate in Hell, and let a Dark Spirit out. Don’t really know what the Darks do, I’ve barely heard of them. But what I have heard ain’t pretty. Don’t you think old Alexei might have at least known of it, if not had his hand in the thing?”

“I didn’t think of that,” I said.

Gage frowned. “Didn’t Sam tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“About the last time?” Gage grunted in annoyance. “This happened before. Someone cracked a seal, not experienced enough to have a clue what he was getting into. He let a Dark out. Sam only let him off because he stopped the Dark. Thought he’d learned his lesson.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “It was Sasha - Alexei, I mean.”

“You got it, sister. I imagine he’s been practicing.”

“Well, he’s probably involved somehow or other,” I said. “We should definitely talk to him. But if he’s in prison, he probably didn’t do the actual deed, right?”

Gage shrugged. “We won’t know if we don’t ask him. I’m guessing Sam won’t let him off easy this time if he’s involved. I hear folks in Hell are pretty pissed off about this.” I raised an eyebrow and Gage shrugged again. “I know a guy, okay?”

“So we’re working for Hell,” I said. “Does that mean I’ve sold my soul?”

“Hell don’t need to buy souls,” Gage said. “It has more than enough of those without doing anything. Least from what I hear. Don’t worry, you’re safe. ‘Sides, they’re the good guys.”

“You sure about that?” I said. “I mean, Satan and demons and all that? Seems pretty evil.”

“You ever met a demon? Most of them are pretty personable. ‘Cept the big guys. I would not want to tangle with them. Taste for power.” He picked the badge off the table and set it in front of me. “What’s that say?”

“Department of Order and Chaos,” I said.

“Right. That’s us. The good guys.”

“Well, it’s not like I can give him the money back anyway,” I said. I looked at Gage. “So the Registry, am I really off it?”

“Sam say you were?”

“Yes.”

“Then you are.”

I stood up and grabbed my coat from the back of the chair where I must have put it the night before. “Let’s go. You got a car?”

“Yeah. Where we going? To the prison?”

“Not yet. I’m going to get my guns back.”

The cop shop was buzzing. I could see uniforms rushing back and forth behind the high counter, and the phones were ringing away. The harried policewoman sitting at the desk had her head down, writing with a blue Bic on official-looking paperwork. Gage took a seat and pulled an enormous leather-bound book from his satchel. He opened it on his sizable lap. I approached the desk.

“Be right with you,” the woman monotoned without looking up.

“What’s going on?” I said.

“Official business, ma’am,” she said, her voice laced with fatigue and irritation. Her hair had been neatly tied up at one point, but had come loose in the front and hung in her face. Her uniform, at least what I could see, was rumpled. The name stitched on the front of her blues said Fick
.
She kept twirling her wedding ring with her thumb absentmindedly as she wrote with her right hand.

“I’m here to pick up something of mine,” I said.

“I’ll be right with you,” Officer Fick said again.

I tapped a finger on the desk. “Look, lady. I’m sorry if you’re busy, but I’m busy too. I have a job to do just like you. You people have my guns and I want them back. Please.”

She sighed audibly, but still didn’t look up. Her pen was moving furiously. “Name?” she said.

“Slobodian,” I said. Fick’s pen stopped moving. She finally looked up.

“You have got to be kidding,” she said looking at me. ” You are on the Registry, Ms. Slobodian, and you know it. The days of showing up the Department with your voodoo are over. I could have you arrested just for asking, and I suggest you walk out of here before I change my mind. I don’t have time for this right now.” Fick was jabbing the pen in the air towards me to emphasize her words, as if she wanted to poke out my eyes with it.

“I think you have that wrong,” I said, glaring back at her. “I am no longer on the Registry. So why don’t you go ahead and get your ass out of that chair and go get me my guns. Please.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said. “No one gets off the Registry.”

“Look it up,” I said.

“Just show her your badge, sis,” called Gage from behind me. I looked back to see him nodding at me encouragingly. Unsure, I pulled the piece of metal out of my pocket and held it in front of the woman’s face. Fick went round-eyed for a second, looking from the badge to me and back again.

“Is that real?” she said.

“Of course it’s real,” I said, trying on my authoritative voice. I was extremely puzzled by her reaction, to tell the truth. The Department of Order and Chaos was not something I’d ever even heard of. But I had the feeling the badge held some power that didn’t rely on the name. Fick stood up and smoothed her hair.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Slobodian,” she said. “I didn’t know.” Then she rushed off.

Before I’d had time to wonder what the hell had just happened, she was back, an older gentleman in an ill-fitting suit following behind her. He looked at me and his face screwed up in confusion.

“Niki?” he said.

“Hi, Ron,” I said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Police Chief Ron Smithy had been a detective when I first met him. Back then, I’d even helped him on a few cases. In return he gave me information about my own cases when he could. He’d tried to get the charges against me dropped when Perry was out for my blood, but it was no good. I was guilty before the trial even started. I’d always been grateful to Smithy for his efforts, though. He had even accompanied the officers that sacked my apartment to make sure they didn’t make too much of a mess. His efforts, though not completely successful, did not go unnoticed by me.

As he came through a door to the right of the desk to talk to me, I realized how much I missed the old days. Before the Registry, things had been good. Far better than I had realized. Smithy pulled me over to a couple of chairs in the corner.

“How’d you do it, Niki?” he said, nervously smoothing his mustache. “Perry’s been on a rampage about it.”

“About what?” I said.

“He got a call from the mayor demanding he take you off the list. Said she’d have him fired if he didn’t do it.”

“The mayor, huh?” I said.

“Niki, how’d you do it?”

“I’ll have to tell you another time, Ron,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I’m on a case. I just came for my guns.”

“Well, watch your back. Perry’s out for your blood.”

“What else is new?” I said.

“Not like last time, Nik. Last time he was only mad because he thought you embarrassed the Department. Gabe Condry was a big deal. When you got to him first, that made him mad.”

“And he set his undercover dogs on me. No offense.”

“None taken,” said Smithy. “But to be fair, you were the one that confided in an undercover officer that you had superpowers.”

“They’re not superpowers, Ron,” I said.