Naming Day (Jake Underwood Book 1) (2 page)

              “A little steep, but fair overall.” I set the tumbler down and watched the clear, brown liquid swirl in the glass and raised my eyes to Kevin’s face. It was worn and leathery, the way someone’s face looked who had had too much sun over the years. It was dark for a goblin, but still pasty white compared to a humans. His long, black, stringy hair was tied back into a hat, to keep it out of his face. A small pair of prince-nez covered his eyes and nested on the bridge of his nose. They were eyes that that had seen many terrible things through the years yet retained a hint of laughter in them and now they looked through the small glasses at me.

              “Jake, old son, I can tell you have something on your mind. What brings you here so early in the day? I see no client being feted, no bruises or cuts so I assume that no one is looking particularly hard for you, unless…is this trouble from the mortal world?”

              “No, nothing like that. Just a curious event that happened earlier today.”  Kevin got the full boat, everything that Cuthbert Brightwater had said and a few things he hadn’t. I could see no reason not to unload. I trusted Kevin as far as I trusted anyone and more than most.

              “That’s damn strange, Jake, damned strange.” Kevin mused and considered. As a bartender, Kevin was privy to lots of things that most people weren’t. As you can imagine, people often said more than they should when they had been drinking. Fey are no different. Kevin always listened and besides he had a lot of friends on the other side of the veil. He always seemed to have the skinny on what was happening in Court of Dawn and a fair amount about the Court of Twilight as well. He was damn good at knowing a hell of lot of information that wasn’t common knowledge. I had never caught him in a straight out lie and he has told me things that had saved my hide more times than I care to recall. When it came time to settle though I, figured we were about even. Occasionally, Kevin would have problems in the mortal world that were far easier for me to deal with than it was for him. These were little things from deadbeat nobles hiding out to avoid debts to suppliers skimming off the top. When those things came up, I dealt with them. Sometimes with a gentle nudge “Lord Dauphin, surely you don’t word to get around that you would welch on a bet? Better pay up.” Other times with a less subtle hint “Sorry about the leg, but don’t worry, I’m sure your company has very good medical coverage.”

              “Have you heard anything about this?” I finished the last of the bourbon and set the tumbler on the bar and watched Kevin consider.

              “No, nothing specific about this particular ceremony. There’s always some kind of ceremony or ritual being planned or executed at Court so it’s not unusual in that regard. But it’s damned peculiar to have a naming ceremony late and pretty odd to have one for a hal…chimera, especially for a member of the court who’s never there.” Kevin smiled. “The Ceremony itself is really a formality for most court members. I’ve never heard of anybody being tracked down to attend though.”

              “That’s what I thought as well.”

              “I can nose around a little if you like. Get the latest gossip from the court, that kind of thing.” Kevin looked questioningly at me and wasn’t a bit surprised when I nodded.

              “Thanks. Also, see if you can find out some specifics about what’s involved in this Naming Day ceremony. I’ve never attended one, I guess all the invitations got lost in the mail, so I’m not exactly sure what’s expected. This ‘recounting deeds of valor’ and ‘quests and services’ rendered sounds a little strange.“  I got up and pushed the empty tumbler back across the bar where Jake quickly caught it.

              “Sure Jake, I’ll call and let you know what I can find out.” Kevin smiled and waved.

“No, no, no! My instructions were quite clear. You were to follow and observe, not contact the subject. Jesus, Kraft, how many times do we have to go through this? Follow and observe!” He at least had enough sense to act chastened even if he lacked the wits to avoid the problem in the first place.

“I swear, if you couldn’t follow a paper trail better than a blood hound does a convict, I would have fired you two years ago after the incident with the ambassador’s wife. Christ, what a fucked up mess!” 

I looked at the nigh undrinkable mug of coffee on the desk before me and wondered how in hell to fix this. I had already talked to a screaming client and an alerted and indignant suspect.

“Mr. Underwood, I’m sorry. I thought I had him. He was going through a box of papers and considering what the client wanted...” He used a shrug to finish his sentence.

He looked at me with little fear for his job. He knew I wouldn’t fire him. He was great at certain things and it was really my fault that I sent him out on a job he wasn’t skilled at, not his. I suppose I was a little distracted by the Delphane matter, and had sidestepped a job that was really my responsibility, damn it. It’s a poor craftsman who blames…etc, etc.

“Hell, forget it Dave. I’ll fix it with the client. You just get back on that Esso case. Someplace in all that paperwork something stinks. You can find if anybody can.” He brightened immediately and quickly fled back to his office and his computer.

              I sighed and considered the best way to repair the problem caused by my distraction and Dave’s ineptitude. I could probably do it myself with a little work but I was backed up with tying up some loose ends so that I could be out of town for my Naming Day Ceremony and really couldn’t spare the time to deal with this mess.

              I knew what I had to do. This wasn’t the first time I had been forced to this extreme and probably wouldn’t be the last.

              I reached for the phone and called a sometimes competitor and sometimes employee, Marty Obromowitz. Now, don’t get the wrong impression. I like and respect Marty. He’s better at this then I am and if it wasn’t for being so long lived, he might be sitting in my chair instead of the other way around. He’s the best freelance, hell, he’s the best detective I know. But there is something about him that really puts clients off. He seems so innocuous and casual that it was hard for clients to take him seriously. His manner always threw off his target as well. What harm could he possibly be? That was the fatal mistake. He’s tenacious and dogged in pursuit of his, well, victim. I know I wouldn’t want him on my trail.

I seldom used him when there was a great deal of face to face with the client or interaction with people. But for a B&E job or straight tailing, he couldn’t be beat. For stakeouts, the man was inhuman. I often wondered if he had a little fey blood, perhaps a wolf spirit or some such, in him somewhere.

I knew I would lose money by hiring him, but there was little choice. I had already stumbled and once word gets around that you are fumbling jobs, it gets much harder to find work. If he could save this job, he would be worth twice what I paid him in money in reputation.

He answered the phone on the third ring.

“Hello?” He always sounded surprised when I called. I knew that he had caller ID and that he knew it was me, but he always answered the same way.

“Marty. This is Jake. I gotta a little job for you.”

“Yeah? Well, I could use the work.” He sounded pleased. Perhaps one of his barracuda ex-wives was hounding him for money. For a guy with an unassailable scent for the guilty, he had no clue when it came to his ex wives or women in general.

“Look, can you come over at about 3:00?”

“Sure. What’s the op?”

I hesitated for moment. “It’s a cleanup job. I used Dave Kraft on a job and he got caught out. The client’s pissed and he alerted the target.”

“Oh. Well that is a pretty mess. Of course when it’s an awful tangle, you think of me. I suppose I should be flattered.” I could almost hear his grin on the other end of the phone. He loved it when I had to use him to fix a problem. Plus, he really didn’t care for Dave. Not really my business except when it interfered with a case. Marty would never let that happen but Dave might.

“Yeah, well, this job fits your profile perfectly. In fact, if I was hitting on all cylinders, I probably would have thought of sub-contacting it to you in the first place.” A lie of course. I could just handled it myself. “Can you come?” I knew he would if only to rub Dave’s face in it.

“Sure. I can be there. Anything for a pal. I’ll give you my ‘pal’ rate; $300 a day, plus expenses.”

I practically choked. That was more than I was being paid. Damn. I really was going to lose more money on this deal, more than I had originally thought.

“That’s your “Pal” rate? I would hate to think what you charge someone you didn’t like.”

“I’m worth it.” He answered smugly.

The hell of it was that it was true. He was worth it. “Fine. Come in at three and I’ll brief you and have Adrianna prepare a packet for you with case materials.”

“I’ll see you then.” Marty clicked off left me to the dread of my next appointment.

I rang Adriana telling her about Marty and to take an early lunch and close the outer office door on her way out. My office was set up to be completely separate from the others, enabling me to shut myself off when I needed to see a client without worrying about my staff seeing anything. It even had its own exit so I could slip out unseen if I chose.

I closed all the blinds and made sure that Adriana had actually gone. The outer office was empty and the door locked. I retreated to my office treated my inner door to a repeat performance of its outer twin. Stepping across the room, I closed the blinds and moved my guest chairs. It took a moment for me to roll back the rug and reveal the white chalk lines beneath. A few were smudged and needed resetting.

In the bottom drawer of my desk was a small, black kit. Inside the kit were various instruments that I used for summoning and protection. I’m no magician, but everybody in my line of work needs to know some basic spell craft and enough protection rituals to keep one hale and whole. A very nasty encounter with an effreet in 1943 had taught me that it paid to be cautious. I wish the same could be said for my double crossing client. She never had a chance to profit from that lesson. Pity. Her red hair had never been more striking as when it had burst into flame.

I laid the contents of the kit and unrolled the pack on the desk and made sure that everything was clean. These kinds of ceremonies always went better with purification. So once I was sure the blade was stainless, I washed my hands in water that I was assured actually came from a mountain spring as opposed to the crap you find so labeled in a store. The closest that water had been to a spring was the one in the pen the grocer had used to sign for it.

“I invoke the High Lord of Hunt and Lord of the Court of Dawn. Besolumude, guard and protect thy servant in this working of will!” I took the sharp silver dagger and drew a thin line across my right palm. The blood welled up quickly and I let a drop fall upon the large piece of chalk that lay on the scarlet cloth. There was a slight hiss as the blood sunk into the white porous surface. A thin wisp of smoke eddied forth lending a slight scent of violets to the air.

“I invoke the Stalker in the Stars and The Lord of the Court of Twilight. Evenstride, guard and protect thy servant in this working of will!” The dagger crossed my left palm and I felt the power of the ritual sinking in. A slightly queasy feeling that made my gut churn. The drop of blood hit the chalk and the smoke that rose up smelled of ash and regret.

“Lords of the Dawn and the Twilight, I declare before you my intent to deal fairly and follow the Compact. What was true, is true still. Let all who come, respect the Compact and let all things be bound by the Compact. These sigils are a symbol of the dread agreement between august lords. All who break the Compact are Unclean and every hand shall be raised against them and no peace shall they know until spirit is rift from bone. So mote it be.”

As I made my declarations to the room I sense the power of mighty antagonists, light and dark, flooding the ritual with presence. Hate and spite flowed between them, culminating in agreement and with that agreement; the Compact was sealed and power flowed into the chalk.

As the ritual finished I could feel the prickling of cold sweat along my back and could feel the tension in my arms. For a full blood, this sort of thing could be dashed off with little effort and less strain. For a half blood to claim protection under the compact was a much more grueling affair. My hands cramped and the blood began to cake on my palms.

The chalk tingled with power as I walked around the desk and began to inscribe the renewed symbols on the floor. I had seen permanent circles carved in rosewood and inlaid with gold. Such craftwork was beyond my need. Temporary circles were all I generally needed simply because I do so little with the craft work compared to the average adept.

I stepped back and viewed my work. It paid to double check such things. Many would be will workers had suffered for carelessness. A dropped symbol or a smudged one would weaken or even negate the protection of the Compact.

My guest was unlikely to wish me harm, but members of the Court of Dawn, even those only loosely affiliated,  didn’t take chances with the Court of Twilight. While some Twilight court members could be as charming as any might wish, others were decidedly less so. If you ever wondered where all those charming tales about blood sucking parasites come from, look no further than the Court of Twilight. There were enough unsavory creatures associated with the Court that caution was always the proper path. Many cases of “demonic” influence could be traced there as some of the Fey who liked the dangerous game of fooling mortals and teasing the infernal forces. If the powers of the Damned discovered such meddling, nothing could protect the malefactor from retribution. No one in the game undertook tweaking the nose of the Adversary lightly. No one that is, except perhaps fools and angels. I stood behind my desk and addressed the room.

“The Circle is prepared. Let all who have business in this place draw near and attend this meeting under the protection of the Compact.” With that I declared the circle open and waited for my eleven o’clock to show up.

There was a slight rustle of blinds and an inrush of air as the manifestation began. Bright specks of light began to gather in the midst of the circle and low hum filled the room. The motes of light coalesced into a vaguely man shaped form. There was a crackle of static electricity being discharged and a faint smell of ozone as the shape grew more solid. One could almost see a hint of another form in the circle, but whatever was there slowly flowed into a human looking form.

Once the pyrotechnics settled, I was left with a rather tall, dark individual in what appeared to be a rather expensive pinstripe. Pierre Cardin or Armani, I suspected. He was fair of feature but dark of aspect. His face was an ebony black mask framed with golden hair and with twin golden eyes staring back at me. His brow had little bone ridges that gleamed like they had been polished. His hands had long nails perfectly manicured and undoubtedly quite sharp. He smiled at me and revealed a row of pointed teeth that seemed to interlock.

“Mr. Underwood? Mr. Jake Underwood?” He raised his brow and the bony ridges actually moved. His smile grew broader revealing even more of his disturbing teeth.

“Yes. I’m Jake Underwood. I understand that you wanted to see me.” A few days ago I‘d had a rather disturbing dream which could only have originated from the Court of Twilight. In the dream I had arranged this interview with my current visitor. Of course in the dream he had looked a lot less threatening. But what he looked like meant nothing. Some of the Court of Twilight were true shapeshifters and didn’t need glamours to appear in other forms. Who knew what this guy, if he was a guy, actually looked like? It didn’t really matter. The Compact should protect me and if not the Compact, the silenced Glock might do the trick.

“This is a genuine pleasure! It’s rare to meet an operator of your caliber! I must say, your boldness surprises me in some ways. Considering the incident at Tuatha Dun Torin, the last thing I suspected was to find you listed in the …ah… phone book. Brave, I must say, foolhardy almost.”

“Uh…Yes…Well, you know what they say, the coward dies a thousand deaths, the brave man drinks but once and all that.” I replied glibly. This was not good. Not good at all.  I had no idea what the hell this guy was talking about. Damn it. The only thing that was worse than a threat from the Court of Twilight, was praise from that quarter.

“Of course, the Court was all a twitter when the Orb of Distress was pinched by an ‘unknown someone’. As fine a piece of work as has been seen in many a moon. I don’t suppose you’d care to dish a little gossip about that caper would you?”

He actually used those sharpened talons to hang quotes in the air around his ‘unknown someone’

“I certainly can’t confirm or deny anything about such a thing.. Anyway, I never talk about my clients. Something that I’m sure you can appreciate.” I smiled. Of course I couldn’t. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. Even if I did, I’d never talk to a wriggler like him anyway.

“Yes. Of course. I can see you’re a fellow who likes plain speaking and so I’ll speak plainly.” He glanced at a chair and I nodded and sat behind the desk, the Glock coming out from behind my back and resting in lap. He seated himself and straightened the lines of suit and smoothed out imaginary wrinkles.