Black Spring (6 page)

Nathaniel and I moved toward the thing, defying my very natural instinct to move away from the monster that wanted to eat us.

And I was pretty sure that it
did
want to eat us, as it seemed primarily composed of teeth and tentacles. Its mouth was a giant maw of rotating layers of teeth that seemed to circle in its jaw like razor-sharp gears. I could not see any eyes, but its front two tentacles shot toward us with unerring accuracy.

I did the only natural thing in those circumstances. I slashed at the tentacle that reached for me. The tip of the arm sliced off under the blade of the sword. Black blood, like cephalopod ink, poured out of the wound, splashing over us, smelling of salt and the sea.

Nathaniel took a different tack. When the second tentacle curled toward him, he grabbed it. And set it on fire.

“Hey, that’s my M.O.,” I said.

“I have learned by observation,” Nathaniel said. “This is your way of effectively ending a conflict.”

Flames sped up the appendage, making the monster roar and slap the burning tentacle on the ground. Chunks of oversized sea-monster flesh flew everywhere. I heard a woman scream, but I couldn’t see her. All I could see was teeth and flailing squid arms.

The fire had panicked the creature temporarily, but I noticed the flames were going out. That limb was charred and useless, but the monster still had six more. And now it was angrier than ever.

“Apparently you haven’t been watching me closely enough,” I said. “When you set something on fire, you have to really set it
on fire
.”

“At your pleasure, then,” Nathaniel said, indicating that it was my move.

I looked at the thrashing, howling monster and realized pretty quickly that there wasn’t a lot of point messing around with the tentacles. I reached inside me, where the heart of the sun burned, where Lucifer’s magic called. Then I held my hands before me and let the fire fly.

It arrowed straight into the kraken’s open mouth. Such was my connection to my magic now that I felt the flame descend deep into the cavity of its body, burning flesh, causing the creature unimaginable agony. For just a moment I felt its confusion, too. Alerian had created this thing to cause pain, not to receive it. It didn’t understand the burning inside.

I deliberately drew back from the spell, broke the connection. The magic was doing its work. The monster was dying. There was no need to feed the shadow inside me by relishing its death throes.

The fire spread from the inside out, smoke pouring from the creature’s mouth in thick black plumes. The stench was horrific. I covered my nose and took a few steps back, halting only when I bumped into the mailman. I’d half forgotten he was there.

He seemed unable to tear his gaze away from the spectacle of a giant octopus-squid-monster burning to death in the middle of a Chicago street.

I put my hand on his shoulder. He was so still I was afraid his mind was broken. “Hey, are you okay?”

My touch seemed to awaken him from his trance. He turned to look at me, blinking. “I guess you
are
that Madeline Black. The one with the vampires.”

“Yes, I am.” I felt I owed him the truth after what he’d just witnessed.

“This kind of thing happen around you a lot?” he asked. He seemed unnaturally calm.

“Unfortunately, yes,” I said.

“Uh-huh,” he said.

He walked away from me and toward his mail cart, which had fallen to one side when Alerian’s monster emerged from the street. The side of the cart was smeared with blackened squid flesh. He righted the cart, collected the spilled mail, and then looked at me.

“I’ll be asking for a different route,” he said.

I nodded. That was to be expected. It was what any sane person would do after spending five minutes in my company.

He nodded back and pushed the cart down the sidewalk toward the house next to mine, carefully maneuvering around the buckled cement and the large chunks of the street scattered everywhere.

The street was quiet. Every sensible individual had gone inside, where they were probably frantically trying to explain to the 911 dispatcher what had just happened.

Beezle landed on my shoulder, his claw covering his beak. “What have you done? I may never be able to eat fried calamari again after this.”

“Where have you been?” I asked.

“With Samiel, like you told me to,” Beezle said. “We were nearby and saw smoke so we figured it could only be you.”

Samiel appeared beside Nathaniel. He looked at the mess in the street and then at me. He appeared resigned.

“It wasn’t my fault,” I said, feeling defensive. “It just came out of the street there.”

“Uh-huh,” Beezle said, echoing the response of the mailman. “Well, the fire alarms have sounded so I would say that’s your cue to go inside and pretend this had nothing to do with you. If you’re standing on the lawn covered in squid guts, plausible deniability becomes a lot more difficult.”

“He is right,” Nathaniel said. “The proximity of your home to this event will already be a red flag for the authorities.”

“And others,” I said. “Jack Dabrowski will have a field day with this.”

“You should be less worried about Dabrowski and more worried about what this means for the mayor’s imprison-the-supernaturals plan,” Beezle said as we trudged into the house. “The giant burned carcass is going to end up on the afternoon news. And I’m sure lots of our panicked neighbors will say they saw the two of you fighting that thing. Heck, a lot of them probably filmed it with their smartphones.”

“We were
defending
our panicked neighbors from that thing,” I said. “I should think that would tip the scales in our favor. If we’re locked up, who will keep people safe from stuff like that?”

Beezle flew ahead of me as we entered the apartment and landed on the dining room table. He shook his head at me. “You’re not looking at this the right way. There’s already some anti-supernatural sentiment, and the mayor’s announcement will only stir up more. People will argue that the monster wouldn’t even be here if not for you.”

That gave me pause. I sat down heavily in one of the dining table chairs. “Well, they would be right. Alerian sent that thing for me and Nathaniel.”

“I take it you behaved with your usual tact at the meeting, then?” Beezle asked.

“Yes,” Nathaniel answered. “Madeline, you should use the shower before I do. I believe Samiel is cooking, and you will need to eat.”

Sure enough, I heard the familiar clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. Samiel always liked to cook after a crisis. It was one of many reasons why Beezle adored him. Beezle’s affection was easily bought by anyone with halfway decent kitchen skills.

“Why is Samiel cooking?” Beezle asked. “Where’s Daharan? I thought he was going to increase the protection on this house. If he had done his job, maybe that gross tentacled nightmare wouldn’t have found you.”

“The protection was for the house. I was practically in the street,” I said. “And it was supposed to make it harder for humans to find me. He never said anything about monsters.”

“But where is he?” Beezle persisted.

“I don’t know,” I said, annoyed that Beezle, like Nathaniel, wanted to read sinister implications into Daharan’s behavior. “I’m not his keeper. I’m going to shower.”

“Good, because you smell like you’ve been on a fishing boat for the last two months,” Beezle said, exchanging a look with Nathaniel.

“I’m going to leave now so the two of you can discuss Daharan without me,” I said loudly.

I started down the hall, then stopped. Something had been nagging at me since we’d arrived home, and I’d only just realized what it was.

“Where are the dogs?” I asked, returning to the dining room.

Beezle and Nathaniel both looked at me blankly.

“They were here when I left with Samiel,” Beezle said.

“Did Jude take them?” It seemed like a possibility. The dogs and Jude seemed to have formed an immediate bond.

Beezle shook his head. “He left with us.”

“Where is Jude now?” Nathaniel asked.

Beezle shrugged. “He stayed with us for a while; then we split up. We figured it was more efficient that way.”

“And he’s not back yet,” I said. “So that’s another thing to worry about. Lock! Stock! Barrel!”

There was no answering bark or scrabble of claws on the floor. The truth was they usually enthusiastically assaulted me as soon as I walked in the door, so I should have noticed immediately that something was wrong.

I went through the kitchen, where Samiel appeared to be making soup. He didn’t even glance up from the pile of vegetables he was chopping when I entered.

I crossed to the back door and opened it, half expecting to see the three dogs on the landing leading to the back stairs. But they weren’t there.

Fresh air drifted up the stairwell. I hurried down the stairs as fast as my increased bulk would allow, gripping the handrail. I’d nearly reached the bottom when I heard footsteps on the stairs above me.

“Madeline?” Nathaniel called.

“The back door is open,” I said.

“Do not go outside,” he shouted down the stairs. “Do not go outside without me.”

I paused on the threshold, my backyard framed by the door.

Through the door was a sliver of the yard, the weatherproofed planks of the small back porch, the top corner of the garden shed, a few of the overhanging leaves from the tree in the corner. I shifted so I could peer more to the left, then to the right.

A dark shape hung from the tree. It was attracting flies.

“No,” I said.

I took one step toward the open door, felt Nathaniel’s hand close around my wrist.

“Where are you going? I told you to wait,” he said. “You do not know what is out there.”

“She’s never done what she’s told,” Beezle said, landing on my shoulder.

In response I pointed out the door to the hanging thing.

Nathaniel put his hands on both my shoulders and gently moved me to one side. “All the more reason for you to wait.”

He paused at the threshold, listening. A little trace of magic filled the air, the pulse that Nathaniel sent outside searching for danger.

“Whatever was here is gone now,” he said.

Nathaniel stepped onto the porch. I held my breath, expecting something to attack. But there was nothing, only the soft spring breeze carrying the scent of the trees and the lingering stench of roasted kraken. I followed Nathaniel outside and down the porch steps.

Lock and Barrel sat under the tree, staring up.

That was when I realized what the shape was. It was Stock, his belly slit open, hanging from his own entrails.

I gagged, bile rising in my throat, covering my mouth with my hand as I turned away. The sound made Lock and Barrel give up their silent vigil. They turned toward me with mournful faces, automatically moving in my direction.

Then they stopped. And growled.

“Hey, guys, it’s only Nathaniel. You know him,” I said, approaching them with my hand out.

They growled again, showing their teeth.

“I do not think it is me they are upset with,” he said.

I glanced behind me, just to make sure there was nothing scary standing at my back, and then looked back at the dogs.

“Me?” I said, pointing to my chest.

Lock and Barrel growled again.

“The shapeshifter,” Beezle said. “While we were hunting all over the city, he came back here.”

“And pretended to be me, and killed one of my dogs,” I said.

I felt sick, and sick at heart, and tired of losing those whom I loved. I couldn’t even take comfort in the other two because they thought I had slaughtered their companion.

“Reach out to them,” Beezle urged. “You have a connection with them. It’s how you brought them to heel in the first place.”

He was right. The shapeshifter had already taken one of the dogs from me. Why should I let him take the other two?

I stepped closer, even though this caused both dogs to increase their growling. I lowered to the ground, holding my hands out. Lock barked at me, his hackles raised. The dogs were only a few feet from me, their eyes glowing red. It reminded me that these were not ordinary dogs, that the memory of their life as Retrievers was still inside them, and so was their power.

“It’s me,” I said, and I sent out a breath of magic to touch them, so that they would know it was me, really me.

At the first brush of power they stopped growling. I felt their confusion, their sense that I was the person they loved and trusted, but there was Another, and that Other smelled the same and looked the same but then did a bad thing, such a bad thing, and when they saw it they were confused, and then the other changed to something else and went away, and they should have stopped the other but it looked like her, it smelled like her, and now here she was again, so was it her, or was it the other? It feels like her, it smells like her, but we don’t know . . .

“It’s me,” I repeated, and sent my magic around them, wanting them to know, to understand I could never hurt them that way. I could never be that way.

Memories flashed through them, the shapeshifter calling to them, luring them outside. The doors were opened to them, the shapeshifter standing in the middle of the backyard, smiling, looking like me, seeming like me.

That was not me. This is me.
I pushed harder with my magic, to make them feel that connection that had bound us in the first place. Lock whined in his throat. Barrel lowered his body to the ground and rested his head on his paws.
It is you.

I scooted closer to them. Barrel put his head on what was left of my lap. Lock licked my face.

“Let’s go inside, boys,” I said, attempting to stand.

Beezle snorted with laughter as I fell back on my bottom. Nathaniel helped me to my feet, brushing grass from my suit. It seemed like a pointless gesture since I was still covered in goop from the fight with Alerian’s monster.

“I will tend to this,” he said, jerking his head at the tree.

Beezle, the dogs and I went back up the stairs. Samiel stood in the kitchen doorway holding a spatula and looking confused.

What happened? Everyone disappeared all of a sudden and nobody said anything to me.

“Sorry,” I said. “It just sort of happened.”

I’d never really thought about what a disadvantage it was for Samiel to be deaf. He seemed so strong and capable, but all three of us could rush past him, and if his back was turned, he would never know. And even though his battle instincts were pretty accurate, it would be easy for someone to sneak up on him and slit his throat, especially if he was somewhere he felt comfortable. Like, say, the kitchen.

I paused on the threshold, cursing as I realized what kind of danger we were all in now.

What now?
Samiel signed.

“The doors. Somehow the shapeshifter was able to unlock and open the doors from the outside,” I said.

Beezle whistled. “That’s some magic. To be able to overcome the safety of the domicile—I’ve never heard of anything like it before.”

“The shifter wasn’t able to come inside, though. I saw in the dogs’ memories that it had to lure them outside. As you know very well, though, there are plenty of creatures that can cross the threshold of a home without a spoken invitation.”

“Great,” Beezle said. “We need to check for infestations.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And bugs, video cameras, things like that.”

“Thinking of Jack Dabrowski?” Beezle asked.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “If he came back here and the door was open, he would not be able to help himself. He’d have planted some kind of recording device.”

The front windows were open, and the sound of emergency personnel in the street drifted up. Several male voices cursed, and I could hear the familiar click, beep and static of two-way radios. As if on cue the front doorbell rang.

“That would be the police.” I sighed. “I might as well go downstairs and deal with them now. They’re only going to come back later if I don’t.”

“You can’t go down there now,” Beezle said. “You never made it to the shower, remember?”

As soon as he said that, I was aware of how terrible I smelled. I looked down at my clothes, saw the blood and the smoke stains, imagined my hair and face looked a horror. Beezle was right. There was no way I could go downstairs and pretend not to know what happened outside.

“What about Nathaniel?” I asked. “He’s out back, and he’s just as much of a mess as I am. Plus, he’s cleaning up the remains of a dog massacre. That won’t look suspicious or anything.”

The police have no reason to go into the yard,
Samiel said.

“Sure they do,” I said. “If any witness says they saw me fighting Alerian’s monster and we don’t answer the door, then the cops will feel free to poke around. And there’s no gate in the walkway that leads back there—which means they could probably justify wandering around the property.”

The doorbell rang again, and it might have been my imagination but it sounded insistent.

I’ll answer the door,
Samiel offered.

“You?”

I know how to play dumb,
he signed, smiling a little.
When you’re deaf a lot of people think you’re dumb anyway.

“I’ll go warn Nathaniel,” Beezle said as Samiel went out the front door and jogged downstairs.

My gargoyle flew toward the back, leaving me alone with Lock and Barrel, who gave me panting-doggy looks.

“I’m going to shower, I guess,” I said; then something else occurred to me. “Why don’t you two go help Samiel at the front door?”

I knew Samiel could handle himself, but I figured the presence of two large black mastiffs might help discourage any officers inclined to be pushy. I had the utmost respect for our police department, but now was really not the time for me to be interrogated. There was too much going on, and I couldn’t afford to be tied up at the police station.

In the bathroom I peeled off my disgusting clothes and shoved them in the wastebasket. There was no salvaging that suit, and anyway Daharan had made it magically appear out of thin air. It wasn’t as if I was losing money on an investment.

I scrubbed my hair until I felt like most of the smoke/squid smell had been rinsed away. I washed up quickly after that, taking the time only to note that my belly seemed like it had gotten bigger since I’d woken up that morning. I was never going to make it to nine months. Nobody had any idea how long the gestation period might be of a child with bloodlines like mine, but this kid was definitely popping out sooner rather than later.

But how much sooner? I wasn’t ready to be a mom. So many things in my life were uncertain. Hell, I didn’t even have a crib for this kid. Or diapers. Or any of those little sleeper things with the feet.

And I didn’t have any friends to throw me a baby shower and “ooh” and “ahh” over cute little patterned blankets and baby socks.

I wrapped a towel around my hair and a robe around my body and went to the bedroom to put on the biggest T-shirt I owned and a pair of fleece pants.

I passed Nathaniel in the hallway. “Everything okay outside?”

He nodded. “The dog’s body has been disposed of and the authorities have been diverted. Now I must get rid of this clothing and wash before I smell like the rotting sea for all eternity.”

Samiel and Beezle were at the table eating soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Samiel had thoughtfully put the stack of sandwiches on a platter in the center of the table and covered them so they would keep warm. I sat down and Samiel spooned soup into my empty crock.

“So what happened with the cops?” I asked.

Samiel grinned.
I signed at them and pretended I couldn’t read their lips. They seemed fairly frustrated.

“So they won’t be back, then?” I said. “That’s nice.”

Maybe,
Samiel signed.
There were a bunch of regular emergency response people in the street, but the guys who came to the door were wearing fancy new jackets with “STF” stitched on the lapel.

“STF?” I said blankly. “Is that a nickname for a firehouse?”

“Supernatural Task Force,” Beezle said. “They must have had this in the works for a while if they’ve already got gear.”

“Did they seem unusually interested in talking to me?” I asked. I was starting to wonder how alarmed I should be by this resettlement plan.

Of course,
Samiel signed.
Then the dogs came downstairs and they decided you didn’t live here and it wasn’t worth it.

“Maybe Daharan’s spell actually helped there,” Beezle said. “It did seem like it was pretty easy for Samiel to bamboozle them even with his look-at-my-innocent-green-eyes act.”

“Where
is
Daharan?” I asked. “And Jude?”

As if in response to my query, the lock turned in the back door and Jude called, “It’s me.”

I frowned. I was glad Jude was home safe, but Daharan’s continued absence was troubling. Since I’d met him, there was only one other occasion when he’d been out of touch for so long—when he’d gotten the Agency off my back and then met with Alerian. I heard Jude pulling on the clothes he’d stashed by the back door.

He entered the dining room, his face more exhausted and gaunt than it had been in the morning. Samiel got up to get another plate as Jude collapsed in a chair, rubbing his face with both hands.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’ve been all over this city and couldn’t find a trace of him.”

“That’s because he was here, killing Stock, while we were all out,” I said.

Samiel returned with a plate and bowl and Jude dove into the platter of sandwiches as he asked, “Who?”

“Stock,” I said. “One of my dogs.”

Jude glance over at the other two, curled up on the sofa together. Lock picked up his head for a moment, as though he knew what we were talking about, and then put it down again.

“How the hell did that happen?” he asked.

I explained about the shifter duplicating my appearance, and how it had lured the dogs outside.

He finished one sandwich and immediately started on the next. “I’ve never heard of a creature able to work its magic over a threshold like that.”

“I know; that’s what I said,” Beezle said.

“And if the creature is charismatic, as your uncle said, it could lure any one of us outside easily,” Jude said. “Especially when we are asleep and vulnerable.”

Nathaniel entered the room, wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, his wet hair pushed back from his face. Like Jude, he looked tired and hungry. The only one at the table who didn’t appear wiped out from the day’s events was Beezle, but he had probably spent a good portion of his time out napping on Samiel’s shoulder instead of scanning for the shapeshifter like a good gargoyle.

“You are going to have to put added protection on the house to guard against hostile magic,” Jude said.

“Yeah, and we still have to search the house for any potential infestations,” I said, and explained about the back door being left open.

“Let us hope there are no more rat-demons in the house,” Jude said.

I remembered cooking one of the horrid little things in a pan, torturing it so I could find out who had sent it to spy on me. That had been a real low point in my recent history.

“I hope so, too.”

“One point is certain,” Nathaniel said. “There is no need to exhaust ourselves chasing down the shapeshifter. His master is clearly interested in you, and thus the creature will find some way to approach you, either in the house or on the street. Perhaps the gargoyle should escort you whenever you leave the house.”

Beezle paused in the act of shoveling half a sandwich in his mouth, his expression horrified.

“You do realize that you’re proposing he sacrifice both his daytime television habit and the illicit snacking that he thinks I don’t know about, right?” I asked.