Deadtown (29 page)

“It’s big and blue and covered with slimy warts. Hideous. Its mouth holds a couple hundred razor-sharp teeth, its claws are like daggers, and it can shoot flames from its eyes and mouth. Its purpose is to destroy.”

“But a human can actually control this monster?”

“It’s not a monster, it’s a demon.” I didn’t like the way Baldwin defined anything that wasn’t human as a monster. It reminded me of something Kane had said. “And yes,” I continued, “a human can bind a Hellion and force it to do the human’s bidding. But you’d have to be an extremely powerful sorcerer to try.”

He laughed. “I have no ambition to try such a thing, Miss Vaughn. But tell me, what happens if the sorcerer isn’t powerful enough?”

“The Hellion looks for every opportunity to break its master’s hold. Then it kills the master. This particular Hellion will also try to destroy the master’s soul.”

“How does a Hellion kill?”

“It depends on the Hellion. It might tear a person limb from limb, peel off the victim’s skin in half-inch strips, or rip out all the organs and leave them in a steaming pile on top of the victim’s dying body.” I glanced into Baldwin’s eyes, but I didn’t see any shock there. Only a kind of amused curiosity. Baldwin probably considered himself a cool head, but what I saw in those eyes was downright cold. “But since we’re talking about the Destroyer, that demon’s favorite method is to incinerate its victims—slowly, from the inside out. It’s incredibly painful.” The scar on my arm burned with the memory of the demon’s touch. I rubbed the spot. “And if the victim’s body isn’t cut open to release the demon’s essence, it also burns up the soul. Even after the body’s dead, the soul suffers excruciating pain for days—weeks even—until it’s completely destroyed.”

Across from me, Lucado shifted in his seat and whispered, “Jesus.”

Baldwin’s voice, however, was clear and steady. “And that’s how this Hellion killed your father?”

I looked up sharply. “Who told you that?”

Baldwin’s eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. “Why, Frank did.”

“I never told Frank.”

“You did, when you first warned him about the Hellion. Didn’t she, Frank?”

Something flicked across Lucado’s face, then he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, she did. And I told you.”

My mind raced. Only a few people knew what had happened to my father. Gwen knew, of course. Kane knew, and Juliet. I’d felt it necessary to tell Daniel and Detective Hagopian in Kane’s office. But I didn’t let most people close enough to hear that story. Had I told Frank? I couldn’t remember.

Baldwin’s voice poured like syrup. “You told him the next morning, after you’d seen the Hellion in his condo. Frank didn’t take you seriously, and you had to convince him that he needed protection.” He glanced over at Frank. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah,” Frank agreed.

I was almost positive that I hadn’t told Lucado. But seeing Difethwr had shaken me up, and the Creature Comforts fiasco had left my head spinning. And how else would Baldwin have found out? Daniel? I couldn’t believe he’d tell. But then, I couldn’t believe some woman would answer his phone, either.

Baldwin’s lips curved in a half-smile, like he was enjoying my reaction to his question. Damned arrogant bastard. I stared straight into his brown eyes, my own eyes shooting sparks. “I will not talk to you about my father.”

Baldwin’s smile grew, as though I’d answered his question in spite of myself. “It really is a pity,” he said, “that you won’t help out with my campaign. Once I’m elected, I could find a position on my staff for someone like you.”

I almost laughed in his face. “You’re forgetting something: I’m one of the monsters.”

“You’re a demi-human. Inactive demi-humans will be allowed to stay in the state.”

“Yeah, well, I’m an active demi-human. And that’s just the name you blood bags give me. I’m Cerddorion.”

He didn’t flinch at my name-calling. “Like your father before you, eh? Only he couldn’t change his shape, am I right?”

“I told you, my father is off-limits.” I leaned forward and knocked on the partition, then slid it open.

“Gordon, I think I’ll walk from here. Would you mind pulling over?”

“Sir?” he asked.

“We’re not quite finished,” said Baldwin. “One more time around the Common, please.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Gee, Gordon, I thought we were friends.” Silence. Not even a
no, madam
in reply. Gordon had just lost his spot on my Christmas card list.

Baldwin looked out the window at Boston Common. So did I. The park looked lifeless; skeletal trees reached bare branches toward an empty sky. Benches sat vacant. A few people hurried through, their collars pulled up, rushing toward some warmer, more hospitable place. Like spooked-out norms passing through a cemetery at midnight.

As we turned the corner onto Park Street, Baldwin spoke. “If I’m understanding you correctly, a Hellion has somehow entered Boston. It would seem important to locate the sorcerer who summoned it, yes?” He waited for me to answer, but I didn’t reply. “You said a Hellion will look for ways to escape its master’s control. How does it do that?”

I kept looking out the window. As far as I was concerned, the interview was over. Baldwin had crossed the line by asking about my father, and we could circle the Common the whole goddamn day before I’d say another word. So I’d miss another meeting with Daniel. Given the way I was feeling about him at the moment, I didn’t really care. Anyway, I knew that Baldwin had plenty of demands on his time. At some point, he’d have to be somewhere else: a Rotary Club lunch or a TV interview or his campaign headquarters.

Baldwin tried coaxing. He tried appealing to my expertise. He got Frank to threaten to fire me again. I didn’t respond, not even to remind them both that Frank couldn’t fire me. I just watched the damp gray Common go by. We circled three more times. Finally, with a curse, Baldwin told Gordon to pull over. We were on Beacon Street, so I’d have to jog across the Common and down Tremont to make my appointment, but at least I’d be out of that car. I got out, slamming the door. I’d rather be crossing the gloomy Common, adding a little life to the place, than cooped up in a limo with those two humans.

21

BY THE TIME I REACHED THE PRECINCT, I WAS BREATHLESS but only a couple of minutes late. I was signing in with the receptionist when a passing detective overheard us. “You’re meeting with Costello?” she said. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

We went through double doors, up some stairs, and down a hallway to a door labeled Homicide. She opened the door and walked in. I followed her into a room crowded with desks. The detectives, all men except for the one who’d brought me here, were already in their shirtsleeves, pecking at computers or talking on the phone.

“There he is.” She pointed. “Over there.”

He sat with his back to me, but I recognized his curly blond hair. Half sitting on his desk, facing my way, was a woman. Her raven black hair flowed past her shoulders, and she wore a tight black skirt with knee-high boots and a clingy red sweater that showed off her curves. She laughed, white teeth gleaming against red lips, then leaned over to say something to Daniel. Well, how nice and cozy. This had to be the woman who’d answered the phone this morning. Today must be Bring Your Bimbo to Work Day.

I strode over to Daniel’s desk. “Hello, Detective. Sorry I’m late.”

He looked up at me and beamed, his smile like the sun rising over a dark hill. He stood and said, “Perfect timing. Let me take your jacket.”

“That’s okay. Our meeting isn’t going to take long, is it?” I said it half in the direction of Ms. Desk Ornament, emphasizing
our meeting
, hoping she’d take the hint and leave.

Daniel’s smile dimmed a few watts. “No, not too long, I guess.”

The woman wasn’t leaving. In fact, she was looking at me with a smile that rivaled Daniel’s in candlepower. There we were, one big, happy family, having a grinfest around Daniel’s desk. In another minute, we’d burst into song.

Daniel spoke. “Vicky, I’d like you to meet”—
Here it comes,
I thought, wondering whether he’d say
wife
or
girlfriend
—“Roxana Jade. She’s the leader of the Witches of the Shield.”

I blinked. One of the witches. Not Daniel’s wife. Or his girlfriend. More relief than I’d care to admit washed over me. But only for a second. After all,
somebody
had answered his phone this morning.

Roxana pushed away from the desk and leaned toward me, her hand extended. “Victory Vaughn. Wow, I can’t believe it. I’ve always wanted to meet you.”

I shook her hand. “Um, you have?”

“Are you kidding? Your demon-fighting skills are legendary in my coven. I mean, it’s one thing to create a charm that repels demons, but you exterminate them.” She shook her head, pursing her lips. “You actually
kill
the buggers.”

I shrugged, feeling a little too
aw, shucks
and not knowing what to say. I’d been all prepared to hate this woman and here she was, my biggest fan.

Daniel rolled a chair over from another detective’s desk. “Why don’t you both sit down? Vicky, Roxana can bring you up to speed on what she told me yesterday.”

As we sat, Roxana was still gushing. “I told Daniel to call me the minute you got in touch. Day or night, I didn’t care. When he called this morning, I was
so
thrilled. I look a mess, I know, but I had to rush over here right away. I wouldn’t miss meeting you for anything.”

If Roxana was a mess now, with her straight, gleaming hair and perfect makeup, I hated to think what I must look like. I hadn’t even glanced in a mirror since last night’s shower. I touched my own hair, fluffing it, then made myself stop.

“. . . and then, when I saw you on the news yesterday, I was bowled over. You were
so
brave!” She finally paused for breath, gazing at me like I was a rock star.

“Just another night in the Zone,” I said, and she laughed like I’d said something witty.

Daniel watched her laugh with the expression of someone witnessing a miracle. Maybe he was one of those guys who flirted with anything female, no matter who he had waiting at home. He caught me scowling at him, and we both looked away.

I turned to Roxana. “I don’t know much about witchcraft. All I know is what I saw on PNN after the plague, that you put up a shield to keep Hellions out of the city.”

“Yes, because large-scale destruction attracts Hellions in droves.” She put a hand over her mouth, blushing. “But of course
you
know that.”

“They’d say legions. Instead of droves, I mean. That’s what Hellions call themselves when they group together in an army.” She nodded, and I went on. “What I don’t know about is the shield. When it was created, I assumed—everyone assumed—that Boston was protected, a Hellion-free zone. So what happened?”

“Well, the shield is just a charm. A big one, woven from the magic of the best witches in the city, but still a charm. And charms grow old and fade. They need to be renewed. So we chose representatives from each of the local covens to maintain the shield. That’s us, the Witches of the Shield. We meet every year on October 30, the night
before
the spirits pass through the veil, to renew the charms that support the shield.”

I thought about explaining to her that “spirits,” meaning monsters and demons, don’t give a rat’s ass about Halloween, but she looked like one of those humans who’d be disappointed by the news. Besides, we needed to focus on what had happened to the shield.

“So you’re saying that the shield was weak, and somebody was able to punch a hole in it.”

“The shield is never weak; we don’t let that happen. We fortify it with Blood of an Evil Man.”

“With
what
?” This came from Daniel, who looked a little wide-eyed, like he was wondering whether he’d have to open an investigation.

“Not actual blood. Well, not these days, not with modern spellcraft. Blood of an Evil Man is a type of spell, an intensifier that adds power to whatever magic you’re working with.”

“So you don’t really use blood?”

“Well, you can. Some old-school witches and sorcerers probably still do. But we’ve got better methods now to achieve the same effect. Cleaner. And blood can be hard to get.” Roxana laughed, showing her white teeth, and Daniel smiled back. “People are often reluctant to part with it.”

“Especially evil men, I’d imagine.”

Roxana laughed again. “True. And how many people do you know who walk around going, ‘Oooh, I’m evil’? Makes it hard to advertise for blood donors.”

Daniel looked right into her eyes as they laughed together. Pretty rotten of me to break up their party. Or not. “Could we get back to the shield, please?” They both turned to me with the faces of scolded children who didn’t feel one bit guilty. It was annoying. “So, Roxana,” I said, “what you’re telling me is that there was nothing special about the timing. The shield could have been breached any day of the year.”

“Not by a Hellion. Not that, ever. But we never expected a magical attack. So you’re right in a sense. After the thirtieth—huh, that’s today, isn’t it—the shield would have been much harder to damage.” She flipped a strand of hair back over her shoulder. “It’s back to full strength now, though. Daniel told you we repaired it, right?”

“You
what
?” A hot, sick feeling possessed me, like I was suffocating. “With the Destroyer running around Boston? Are you crazy? You’ve sealed it inside!”

Those stupid witches. They’d trapped Difethwr inside the very city it promised to destroy. Which meant it was only a matter of time until the Hellion razed Boston, killing hundreds or even thousands of people. It didn’t need a legion. It could do that all by itself.

What if I couldn’t stop it in time? Those witches had sentenced half of Boston to death.

The sick feeling was swept aside by an electric jolt. My fist clenched, and along my right forearm, the scar itched and burned. I made the mistake of looking at Daniel as the demon essence flared, and I wanted to pound his smiling face into his desk over and over and over, until not even his damn wife would recognize him.