Metal Page 14

  “Oh, ah, yeah.” Finn nodded using the mention of it as an excuse to pull away completely and move to the vanity, where he pretended it needed adjusting. He wasn’t sure whose tie it was, where it had even come from, but he could be glad of it anyway. Diana had found him wearing—from what he could remember—no pants, and a wet t-shirt. Now he was dressed in an ill-fitting suit with a tie that seemed to be made of the same plastic that birthed the world’s supply of metallic, party confetti. “It is nice. You did good. You’ve made me look respectable.”

  “Have you gotten money? Do you keep up with your training? Mort said you didn’t learn much. Have you built a family as well?”

  “Ehm,” was all Finn could say. He was certain by “family” she didn’t mean a husband and two kids. He was certain, in fact, that she meant the horde of zombies brainlessly lining the hallway. Finn flashed on the dead cat she’d presented to him as a pet three weeks after moving in and swallowed the dry lump that was suddenly lodged in his throat. “No, I’ve not been as successful in that area as you. I hear you’re keeping busy, though. Really touring the town.”

  “Not just here,” she said, moving close to lean her head on his shoulder and meet his eyes in the mirror. “I’ve been all over. Sometimes if the family gets too big I leave some of them behind. Now I’ve found you, and we can start a family of our own. I was worried when you left. Mort didn’t want to look for you. I obeyed his wishes until I saw you at the house. That was a nice house too, but not big enough. Do you want a bigger house?”

  “Oh, no, this one’s brilliant. You’ve done a good job, Di,” Finn said, using the shortened version of her name his teenaged self had found morbidly amusing. “You’ve grown very skilled.”

  “I know,” she said, shrugging and wrapping herself around him, burying her face against his armpit. Finn swallowed at the feeling, worrying instantly that she was so delicate he might injure her just standing so close. “Mort showed me more tricks. Good tricks. He can’t show me tricks anymore, but I’ve learned some on my own.”

  “He can’t show you more tricks?” Finn felt a chill run down his spine, thinking of her mention of being able to make the man behave. Was Mort still around, alive even? Even though the bastard was probably in his sixties and had never been in formidable shape, he still caused a deep-seated terror in Finn that he wished wasn’t planted right in his suddenly shaky bowels. “Why’s that?”

  “He’s not allowed to speak most days. He stays in his room. Are you cold? You’re shivering.” Hugging him closer, Diana lifted her arm to rub his chest gently. “Terrence will turn the heater on. I can have Lulu prepare dinner. Are you hungry? Did I ask? I have some trouble remembering sometimes. Oh, Finny. It’s nice to have you back. I’ve missed you. You’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”

  Now that was going to be a problem, Finn thought, trying to muster a smile as she looked up at him with her dark eyes.

  ****

  “I know you,” the witch said when Alex stepped into the little New Age shop after being on the phone for a few minutes. “I don’t much like you, though.”

  “I get that a lot,” she said, and Veruca shook her head, tapping the counter.

  “She’s not the problem I need solved. Can you track him or not?”

  “I can, but it takes time. You want fast, you go to someone else.”

  “You’re just enough witch to sell fake crystal bullshit, but not enough to be useful, right?” Alex said, elbowing Veruca before turning her attention away from Rebecca. “I can find you a better witch than this. Last time I used her she sent me down a trail of goose shit.”

  “I sent you where you needed to go, just as you paid me for, Kincade.”

  “Kinc—Jesus,” Veruca spat. “How many names do you have?”

  “Just enough to keep people off my ass. Come on, don’t waste your money here.”

  “The other witch nearby is under Fairy rule. She’s the only one I can go to on short notice. I need to find Finn now. Now,” Veruca repeated, turning her attention back to Rebecca. “Scry.”

  Without hesitating any longer, she pulled a small vial out of her purse, set it on the counter, and tapped the lid. Rebecca had quoted her a fair price, but Veruca was worried if she bantered with Alex—Doris, Kincade, Agent Triche, whatever the hell she was going by at that exact minute—she might change her mind and up her fee. Not that Veruca couldn’t have afforded whatever she wanted, but haggling took time, as did sniping, and Finn couldn’t wait around for any of it.

  “Fine. Let me get my things. Take her out of here, or I won’t be able to concentrate.”

  “Scram,” Veruca ordered, turning to shove Alex toward the door. She went, but put just enough tension in her body to let Veruca know it was her decision to go.

  “I can probably make myself useful outside. I’ll make a few more calls, see if any other zombies have popped up stealing lunch money or going all Manchurian Candidate.”

  “Fine, get out.”

  Veruca watched to make sure she made it to the sidewalk, and then dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her temples.

  Had she made a mistake wanting to handle this on her own? Did she need to go see Belial and take him up on his offer for extra powers? He’d lent her some once before, and it had proven quite useful, but the come-down had been unpleasant. Even holding reaped souls in her for a day made her feel a little worse when he took them to Hell. That had been three souls for nearly a week, and she’d been bedridden for twice as long when he’d taken them back.

  Finn was worth a month in bed, though, she thought, before smiling to herself at what he’d probably say to that.

  “You should make new friends,” Rebecca said when she came back with a canvas box of supplies. “That one’s bad news.”

  “It was last minute, we’re not friends. How long will it take you to find Finn?”

  “As she said so rudely, I’m sane, so it’ll be a bit. Probably fifteen minutes. Minimum. You can have some tea, or—”

  “I’m going to make a call. As soon as you know anything, let me know.”

  “Right,” Rebecca said, bristling. Veruca shook her head and sighed.

  “He means the world to me and the person who has him has killed people. I need your help.”

  Rebecca nodded, holding onto her anger for a moment before her stern expression softened around the edges. “Yeah, I … understand. I’ll make it as quick as I can.”

  “Thank you.” Already pulling her phone out, Veruca moved toward the back of the little store, sidestepping racks of crystals and spell books, incense and candles, dialing Belial. He answered immediately.

  “Veruca, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “The necromancer has taken Finn.”

  “What do you need?”

  “I…” Veruca trailed off, unsure. She needed Finn back. She needed to hold him, to tell him she loved him, and to have him say that yes, he loved him too. She just wasn’t sure how to get to that moment from where she stood. Belial was patient and quiet, even though she was sure he’d probably put some global business on hold to speak to her. Guilt crashed through her and she sighed. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “Not at all. What would you like me to help you with?”

  “I don’t know why I called. I have a witch scrying for him, and the mercenary I hired seems to think she has things handled. I guess I just…”

  “Whatever you need, just let me know. I can have Stefanie get in contact with you and offer you any assistance you may require.”

  “I have her number. If I need it, I’ll use it. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  “You’re never a bother. My previous offer still stands, whatever you decide.”

  “I appreciate that. I just have to be patient.”

  “What’s the name?”

  “The—oh. Diana Merighi. Have you heard of her?”

  “No, but I’ll make some inquiries.”

  “That may not be her real name, we got it f
rom a lich, um, marquess. And from Finn.”

  “You can’t necessarily trust the fae to give out true names, but if you trust your boy, so do I. To a point.”

  Veruca laughed. “I’m sure he didn’t lie, but that still doesn’t mean that’s her name. He doesn’t even seem to know his given name, let alone hers. They have a history, though.”

  “Say no more. I’ll contact you soon as I am.”

  “Gracias,” Veruca said without thinking.

  “De nada, señorita.”

  Belial hung up, and Veruca lowered the phone, staring at it as if it could magically divine Finn’s location and transport her straight to him. She’d have that soon enough, she thought. Rebecca would be successful and Veruca would be riding up, a proverbial knight in shining armor before Finn could look Diana’s way and say, “Eek, a zombie queen!”

  Though, knowing Finn, Veruca figured his version would’ve contained much more profanity and maybe a little Irish thrown in if he wasn’t paying attention.

  ****

  Finn was keeping most of his attention on Diana, trying to make sure to hear enough of what she was saying that he could react appropriately and not risk her getting angry with him. Part of his brain, though, had refocused on the zombie outside the door, the one who looked scared in a way no zombie had any right to look.

  “Ehm,” Finn piped up when Diana took a break from talking about a café she’d discovered she was quite fond of. “Why’s that zombie look nervous? We didn’t get around to that.”

  Diana watched him, her expression blank for long enough that Finn worried maybe she’d just shut down like a robot out of power. Finally she blinked rapidly and then looked toward where he was pointing, though her expression still showed no sign that she knew what he was saying.

  “Oh. They get like that in the beginning. When I get rid of his soul, he’ll be better. If you’re feeling better, I can fix him now.”

  “Get rid … what?” Finn asked, feeling his heart pound a little harder. Veruca was the only person he’d ever met with any power over souls. According to her, it was a power only Reapers had. Necromancers, as far as even Stefanie was concerned, couldn’t read or control souls. Finn knew he certainly couldn’t. “You said soul?”

  “Yes. You know.” Arm still hanging by her side, Diana flicked her hand at the wrist before her brows creased and she lifted her hand to touch her chest. “You know.”

  “I don’t know,” Finn said, realizing maybe this was a good thing in its own horrible way. It was clear she was more powerful than he. While she’d never had any particular ego, she’d been Mort’s star pupil from the moment he’d brought her home, and tutoring Finn had been a pastime she’d found she enjoyed. Her aim had been simply to get closer to him, which he could appreciate, despite knowing he’d never felt the same way.

  Even as a hormonal teen, Finn had recognized Diana as bad news and had been able to work out that, while sixteen and fourteen weren’t far apart chronologically, they were light years away in terms of awareness and maturity. To her dismay, he knew, the most she’d ever gotten out of him had been a few lingering hugs and even fewer kisses.

  She was an adult now, though, and who knew how experienced she’d gotten over the years. If she wanted to, as she’d put it, start a family, he was sure she might try for something more intense and intimate than the pressing together of closed lips. If he could keep her talking, keep her focused on corpses rather than how good Finn looked in a suit, things might have a chance at staying chaste.

  “I didn’t continue training after I left,” Finn explained, trying to look feeble and pathetic. “I just didn’t have the chance. I couldn’t stay in that home, though. I was never as talented as you. Perhaps you could show me. You could train me. Lord knows I could use the help.”

  “You want me to tutor you?” Diana’s wan face brightened, and she took a few steps closer before nodding and looking to the hallway. Her left hand twitched, drawing Finn’s gaze before he heard shuffling and looked over in time to see three zombies disappearing down the hall.

  “Come, we’ll go downstairs. I think Mort should be with us, for old time’s sake.”

  “Mort?” Finn squeaked, terror swamping him. “Mort’s here? Here? I don’t—”

  “He’s part of the family, of course he’s here. Come, come. Downstairs. I’ll have a room all ready for you. Do you still use string? I have something better for you, don’t worry. Come, Finny.”

  Finn wasn’t pleased with the idea of seeing Mort again, no matter how his relationship with Diana had changed. “Part of the family” didn’t sound good coming out of her mouth. Then again, nothing sounded good coming from Diana. Finn suspected she could have offered him a bevy of willing and agreeable sexual partners all eager to tell Finn of his great beauty and he wouldn’t like the idea one bit.

  Belial’s words came back to him, specifically the ones involving undead concubines, and Finn felt his stomach flip-flop hard enough that it seemed to throw him off balance. The zombie nearest the edge of the stairs reached out to catch him before he could tumble downward, and Finn fought the urge to whimper. Zombies grabbing for him had always been bad news, though usually he was the one who was supposed to be controlling them.

  “Careful, Finny,” Diana said, wrapping her arm around his and leading him down the stairs. Her grip didn’t feel much different from the dead man’s, but at least the dead man let go. Diana seemed intent on hanging on forever. When he caught sight of who was waiting for them in the elegant dining room, Finn started to really worry about what hanging on forever might mean to Diana.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I’m telling you, a more powerful witch could’ve had us on our way already.”

  “You got places to be?”

  “I’m working on a few things, but I’m committed to you until this is finished. I’m a businesswoman, after all. I just think you should have found a real witch.”

  “Real witches can barely recognize there’s someone talking to them,” Veruca said with a sigh. “At least this one answers questions and takes Visa.”

  Alex snorted, shrugging as if Veruca had a point. “True enough. You have to know how to talk to a proper witch, then you get exactly what you want.”

  “What are you?” Veruca asked, a tinge of frustration in her voice. Alex was human, plain and simple, but she talked as if she knew more about Fairy and its descendants than the queen herself. It was probably mostly ego, but Veruca couldn’t be sure. She’d met other humans who had been born from two very powerful fae-spawn parents, yet had inherited no trace of fae blood whatsoever.

  “I’m just your bog standard human.”

  “Yet you’re signing up to help a stranger hunt down a murderous necromancer, dressing up as a federal agent, and bitching at me about my choice in witches. You talk a big game.”

  “I play a better one. I know what I’m doing, that’s all. I’ve been at this awhile and I’ve seen all sorts. Still haven’t figured you out, but that just means you hide what you do really well. Or that you’re bullshitting me and you’ve got no power at all. I’ve come across both types.”

  “You’re the bullshit artist, not me. I just want my boyfriend back.”

  “He worth it?” Alex asked, shifting her footing to face Veruca full-on. Since she’d been banished from the inside of the shop, Veruca had joined her outside on the sidewalk. There wasn’t a lot of traffic, either foot or car, but Alex didn’t seem worried about being overheard anyway.

  “More than. I’d give just about anything to get him back.”

  “So it’s love, then? Not just a roll in the hay?”

  “It is. Something I’m sure you know nothing about.”

  “Well, that’s just mean. For all you know, I could have a whole, big giant family out on a farm somewhere in Bumfuck, Nowhere. I could be someone’s beloved mommy.”

  “No,” Veruca glanced at Alex’s chest, though she didn’t need to study the woman’s soul to know she’d never loved—o
r been loved by—anyone enough to be considered a mom. “You may have abandoned some babies in dumpsters here or there, but you’re no one’s mother.”

  “Harsh,” she said, though her lip quirked. “But accurate. She looks like she’s almost done. I’ll stay out here if you want to go see for sure.”

  “Get the car running, would you?” Tossing her keys vaguely in Alex’s direction, Veruca pushed into the store, weaved around a table with a dim, scarf-laden lamp, and stopped next to the counter, watching Rebecca in silence. She looked put out, beads of sweat dotting her forehead, but the pencil she’d suspended above the blank piece of paper had drawn a street map. It was shaky but clear, and the pencil was vibrating slightly over an address in the center.

  “He’s out of the city,” she said, her voice betraying exhaustion. “But not terribly far. Down in Renton, it looks like.”

  “I appreciate it. Give yourself a tip,” Veruca said, rolling up the map and grabbing the vial she’d left. Though she was sure Rebecca wouldn’t use Finn’s blood for any nefarious purposes, it was still bad form to leave such a powerful spell ingredient lying around. “And get some rest.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice. You be careful with that one.”

  “I’m not worried about Alex.”

  “Haven’t heard her called that before. Lots of other things, though. Most of them unflattering but truthful.”

  “I know what she’s about,” Veruca assured the witch, already heading for the exit. “I’ll be sure not to bring her around again. Thanks.”

  Alex was already idling outside in the car, waiting in the bus lane in clear defiance of the signage posted at every nearby pole.

  “We ready?”

  “Renton. You know the way?”

  “I can muddle through.” Pulling away from the curb, Alex glanced at Veruca as she slipped the vial of Finn’s blood into her bag. “Do you just carry that around? That’s some Jolie-Thornton shit right there.”

  “You’re hardly one to criticize what I carry around with me. I’ve seen that bag you’ve got strapped to your thigh. You could get yourself into a bank with some of what I’ve seen you pull out of there.”