Metal Page 9
****
Veruca made it back to the hotel by hailing a cab and telling the hotel’s doorman to call the head of security once they arrived. Donald, ever obedient, didn’t even hesitate to open his own wallet and pay the driver, tipping generously despite his dislike of cabs.
“What happened?” he asked as he escorted her inside. “Did you lose your phone?”
“I’m pretty sure it was stolen,” Veruca said, pulling her hand back when Donald got to the elevator button first.
“How? What happened?”
Veruca shook her head. She’d been thinking about that the entire ride. The zombie had gotten in close, but she hadn’t seen or felt it go for her belt. It was missing all the same, though, and Veruca was sure it hadn’t come off on its own.
“I was approached by a zombie, one under the control of the necromancer I mentioned. I can only assume she grabbed my—you know, my pack, my belt that I have my wallet and phone in.”
“You should report it stolen, regardless. If you can’t find your credit cards—”
“I didn’t bring them, just my ID and phone. I didn’t even bring the room key. Finn can let me in.”
“He went out with your friend,” Donald said, pulling out his master key to open the penthouse door. “The woman who was here yesterday. She showed up maybe thirty minutes ago and they left.”
“Where did they go?”
“I didn’t ask, I just noticed them leaving on the monitors.”
“Shit.” Veruca shook her head, frustrated by the turn the day had taken. If her phone was in the hands of the necromancer who wanted to find Finn, he had easy access now.
“Should I have stopped them?”
“No.” Veruca shook her head, crossing into her bedroom to boot up her computer and track Finn’s phone. “I can find them. Both, actually.”
“You think they went their separate ways?”
“No,” Veruca said with a grin. “Not Finn and Alex, Finn and the necromancer. I have tracking on. You can’t always trust Finn’s going to stay where you put him.”
Donald chuckled at that, staying at the doorway while she moved to the closet to change. By the time she came out, the computer was ready and she gestured Donald into the room.
“Would you mind driving me to pick him up? I don’t want to risk Erik’s safety again, and who knows how far out he is anyway.”
“Of course.”
They hovered over the computer as it tried to locate both phones, but when the error message popped up and the map showing their locations didn’t, Veruca swore, fighting the urge to punch the screen.
“Dammit.”
“I wouldn’t worry about Finn, I’m sure he’s fine.”
“Not if the necromancer’s already got him.”
“You think it would happen that fast?”
“I don’t know,” Veruca admitted, shaking her head. “I have no idea. He wants Finn, I’m not sure why. If he was able to track him, he may have already ditched both phones in the Sound, or Lake Washington, or even just a gas station toilet.”
“Or Finn could have just dropped his phone in a gas station toilet and the necromancer’s turned yours off, realizing it can be tracked.”
“A tech-savvy zombie puppet master, just what we need. Shit.”
“What about your friend?”
“She’s not exactly a friend,” Veruca corrected absently, though she’d just had the same idea. “But I should have her number in my history.” Pulling up her phone’s backup, she scrolled through the list, searching for the one she recognized as the answering service she’d used to hire Alex. She knew there would be no direct contact, but if she could get Alex to call her back and bring Finn to the hotel, she’d at least feel better.
“That should get things rolling,” she said after leaving a message to call her at Donald’s number. “I’ll need to get a new phone and shut mine down. I’ll handle the latter on the way to the former, if you drive.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Donald said, stepping back to allow her to leave the room first. “Let’s get to the garage.”
****
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Finn insisted as Alex dragged him into a cavernous room carved out of rock and rough stone. He’d been gibbering since they’d passed through the doorway and into a massive room dominated by an iron cage bigger than most houses. There had to be a million skinny bars curving downward from an unseen ceiling, containing, at least as they passed, nothing. It made Finn think of a bird cage that was meant to hold some city-smashing, mutant canary.
“A familiar feeling for you, I’m assuming,” Alex said, turning to face him so she could look him over. Shaking her head, she poked him in the chest. “You don’t look as good as I’d like, but you won’t be the center of attention anyway. Here, take this. It’s compact but it’ll do the job.”
Finn found Alex shoving a metal tube into his hand, tapping it as she explained.
“It’s iron so it’ll hurt like a bitch, but if you get into a bind it’s good backup. I wouldn’t let the lamia get so close that you have to stab her, though. Her claws are poisonous.”
“The—claws?” Finn demanded, horrified. How was a hunk of dead steel supposed to help? He shook it, hoping it would magically become a spear or a gun, but nothing happened.
“You’re almost up. Oh, for shit sake.” Quicker than he could process, Alex pressed her hand into his palm, turned the hunk in his hand into a short knife, and then patted him on the cheek. “Remember, finding the necromancer who’s terrorizing the city is entirely on your scrawny shoulders. Good luck!”
Alex stepped back as golden light flashed around Finn, blinding him and invading his senses so completely that for a moment he was weightless and incorporeal. There was only brightness searing the inside of his skull and then the room around him went dark, and Finn realized he’d been transported out of the cave with its racks of shields, weapons, and miscellaneous metal into the bird cage in the room above.
Beyond the domed cage lay rows of seats and bleachers fading into darkness and out of the cage’s glow. The seats up front were mostly empty, though a few of them had been filled with the perfectly sculpted asses of what Finn assumed were fairies. They were beautiful, each an approximation of what a human would look like if his or her beauty was turned from a five to a twenty. Ethereal faces filled with features of all different types were turned toward the ring, though not all of them were focused on Finn. Some had fixed their gorgeous eyes and full lashes on the creature that had appeared in a similar column of golden light. This must be the lamia, Finn figured, before thinking to himself that he was going to piss his pants.
The lamia was twice as tall as Finn—at least twice, he realized, when he noticed the thickness of her tail curled beneath her like a cobra coiled to strike. She was stunning in a way that would make a man’s bowels empty, rather than in a way that would make him want to buy her a drink. Her appearance was reptilian, long and sharp, like a striking woman cursed by a jealous witch to resemble a horned viper. Eyes so matte black that they appeared to be missing altogether were aimed directly at Finn, shadowed by the flaring hood growing around her widening face. Her scales cast light about in a rainbow, like a stained glass reflection, and as her upper body weaved idly, she cracked her long fingers and lifted her skinny arms to work out the kinks in her neck.
The ghastly sounds of cracking echoed through the cage and Finn jolted, stepping back without realizing what he was doing. Something solid took his feet out from under him, and he realized after he fell and whacked his head on the concrete that he’d tripped over a pile of corpses.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Finn yowled, scrambling back as he pushed to his feet. Most of his mind was gibbering at the sight of the lamia, whimpering and screaming that he would scratch and claw and rip off his own fingernails if that was required to dig himself back down to the room below. He craved safety more than he’d craved anything in his life except maybe Veruca.
His necromancy took off like a bullet, splitting away from his soul into three unequal-sized portions, grasping the hearts of the dead as if trying to protect them. Time slowed and fragmented as awareness from two of the three entirely new psyches flooded his field of vision.
“Christ,” Finn mumbled, overwhelmed by the input coming from within and without. His hand was burning where he’d ripped open his skin, his brain hurt from the sudden responsibility he’d taken on, and his ears ached from the screeching wail suddenly ripping through the air.
Veruca had been working him hard since allowing him into her life, and in many ways he appreciated exactly the rigidity she expected from him. He didn’t always enjoy her insistence that he work on his necromancy, but in the moment he hoped he’d have the chance to kiss each of her toes and thank her for the work she’d put him through.
His trainer, a demon named Stefanie who reminded him of some punk version of an Ethiopian warrior queen, pulled no punches. When she said jump, his zombies were supposed to be hopping like baby goats before Finn could even think to ask how high. As far as Stefanie was concerned, his control over corpses should be so innate that they practically worked on their own, acting as if they had minds and opinions and the ability to figure out problems by themselves.
It wasn’t something Finn had particularly mastered himself, and he wasn’t entirely sure Stefanie’s zombies were actually so autonomous that she could go, as she put it, “get laid and have a cigarette while the dumb, dead bastards clean the bathroom.” He’d become quick on the draw, though, and by the time the lamia closed in enough to be a threat, Finn’s pair of bodyguards were on their feet and blocking her path.
Shaking off his disorientation, Finn backed up a few clumsy steps and lifted his gaze to take in the scene ahead. It wasn’t something he could have predicted, even if Alex had given the biggest of clues as to what was in store.
His army was a motley crew, an apparently random assortment of corpses piled up in no particular order. At the bottom had been a werewolf in his human form, broad and muscled, but torn apart at the midsection, his entrails apparently eaten away. Finn could feel the gaping hollow at his own midsection if he focused on it, and decided instantly to never do that again. The werewolf’s missing guts wouldn’t affect its ability to fight, Finn knew, but the notion of understanding what it would be like to live without a digestive system didn’t sit well.
Knowing time wasn’t on his side, Finn sent the werewolf forward in an uncoordinated attack, switching his awareness to the next corpse that had been left at his feet. It was nearly twice the size of the werewolf, pale and furry like an actor in a B-movie doing his best with a poorly sewn polar bear costume. Finn recognized it as a yeti, not because he was particularly familiar with arctic fae, but because the yeti knew what it had been. That was about all it knew, however. It hadn’t been a smart creature, lumbering through life with few thoughts and simple goals.
Eat, mate, kill, the last of which Finn could tell would be the most useful. Somehow he didn’t think the lamia would be interested in being seduced by something the size of an industrial refrigerator that smelled of rot and musk.
“Have at’er, buddy,” Finn mumbled, setting the yeti free with the desire to destroy. The lamia’s attention turned instantly, torn from using her razor claws to scratch at the werewolf’s bloodless skin to protecting herself from the yeti’s powerful swat. All the balance on her lithe body couldn’t stop the strength in the dead furbag’s arm. She was forced to weave with the impact, screeching as she went on the defensive. The yeti’s thick coat was better armor against her curved and sharp fingers than the werewolf’s human skin, and Finn shook his head, knowing that wouldn’t do.
He could ignore the third corpse, at least for the moment. It didn’t seem like it would help much, small as it was, and he’d hit resistance when sending his power toward it anyway. The yeti seemed to be doing decently on its own, though, battering at the lamia with brawn rather than brains. Finn, who’d never felt he was particularly skilled in either area, found himself enjoying the feeling of power that each impact sent reverberating through his psyche. He’d even overcome the confusing way it felt to see through the eyes of something that had been half-blinded by a dagger through the face.
Brute strength wasn’t going to be enough, though. Finn could tell that, while the lamia was distracted and driven into a rage by the attacks, she didn’t seem worried about defeat. Maybe she’s as dumb as the yeti, Finn thought, just as she weaved, screeched, and proved that, no, she certainly wasn’t.
Her tail, the long, nimble weapon she’d ignored so far, came up like a flash, swatting away the werewolf before curling up around the yeti’s neck. She had to balance her weight differently to compensate for the height and the strength she needed, but that didn’t make her look any less of a sexy, creepy badass as her tail coiled to cover not only the creature’s throat, but also its entire head.
And when the lamia hissed in a deep breath and squeezed with all her might, Finn yowled, feeling for the moment as if he’d gone blind. She’d squeezed the yeti’s head into a pulpy mess, leaving only echoes of how it felt to be stuck in a body that could no longer see, hear, or think.
The furry body hit the ground, barren of input from either Finn or the world around it. Technically his control was still there, his necromancy squirming in a confused wriggle in the creature’s chest, but the yeti was as good as done. Finn had never controlled a headless creature before and he simply had no idea how to make it act without normal, human—er, yeti, as it were—input.
As if feeling vindictive, the lamia loosened her grip enough to slip her tail lower to the yeti’s chest and lifted its corpse to swing it into the already trounced werewolf. Both of Finn’s useful zombies flew like kids’ toys through the air to drop with a thud to the ground. The lamia righted herself, fixating on Finn. He realized then that, while she seemed to know exactly what was happening at any given moment, it wasn’t because she was watching him. Where he’d previously observed pitch black eyes, he realized there were none. Something had carved out her eyes and left empty pits.
“Oh shit,” he breathed again, going still with terror.
Chapter Ten
“Still nothing?”
“No,” Veruca spat, angry. She’d left the message for Alex hours ago and hadn’t gotten an answer. “Maybe Caroline had a point with that tracker she stuck in Finn’s ass.”
“Caro—? You mean Angelina,” Donald stated, realizing she meant the self-proclaimed kingpin they’d taken down in order to save Finn’s life. “The name thing throws me off.”
“It shouldn’t, we get plenty of fake names at the hotel.”
“Yes, but they’re there hiding from spouses or family members, not trying to steal jewel-encrusted baby toys.”
Veruca swallowed delicately, keeping her own business to herself. She’d never told Donald the extent of what exactly had happened with Angelina and didn’t really want to go into it at the moment. He was a good man, and one with fairy power in his blood just the same as her, but her job and responsibilities didn’t need to be up for discussion at that moment.
“Have you come up with anything?” she asked finally, referring to her request to him the day before.
“Oh, not much. I spoke with a few cops, a private detective, and a few civilians who used to be in the life, but no one knows any more than the basics. Robbery, corpses, missing people. Not much to go on. This necromancer covers his tracks pretty well.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? I wish I knew what Alex an
d Finn were doing, not only so I could be sure he’s safe, but so I’d know where we stand.”
“You probably know more than I could have found out anyway. You mentioned that your friend—uh, that Alex took you guys around to the banks, that you spoke with someone at the funeral home, and now that you’ve spoken to the necromancer himself.”
“Herself,” Veruca corrected before frowning. “I mean, the zombie was a woman. I guess that doesn’t indicate gender. I could have spoken to a Bigfoot and it wouldn’t be any indication of the necromancer’s real identity.”
“A Bigfoot?” Donald asked, goggling. “Like Harry and the Hendersons? Squatch? Big, hairy ape man?”
“The very same. You’ve never met one?”
“In what universe would the security lead at a fancy downtown hotel meet a Bigfoot?”
“Well, you used to be more than that. I thought maybe you’d come across one in your travels.”
“Not really, I stuck mostly to my own kind.”
“Speciesist,” Veruca spat before winking to let him know she was joking. He chuckled, but her phone rang before he could defend himself. Veruca lit up as she checked the screen. “What luck.”
“Finn?”
“No, my mortuary contact. Hello,” she said, turning the phone to speaker.
“Miss Lake? I’m Serena. Garrett said you wanted to talk to me about a body removal?”
“Yes, are you free at the moment? We can be there in ten to fifteen.”
“Of course, I’ll wait for you. It was about that girl, right? Amanda Gleason? I didn’t know I’d screwed up when I sent her off. I have all the paperwork and everything.”
“You sent her off?”
“Yeah,” Serena said, drawing the word out nervously. “Um, it was a request from another mortuary. They had all the usual paperwork. I was there when everything was done, I always triple-check. It would be a disaster if anything were to go wrong.”
Veruca was quiet for a moment, swallowing hard to avoid swearing. “I’ll be there shortly, and you can walk me through what happened.”