Days Gone Bad (23 page)

The smell hit me as the wards were dissolved by the fae-powered flames. The stench of burning skin and hair was overwhelming. I stepped away from the inferno, blinked a few times, and followed Foster into the garage.

“What will the authorities find?” I said.

“Nothing but a burned out van.” Foster’s voice was dead, his knuckles stark white with the pressure he put on the hilt of his sword.

Reason number eight hundred seventy four not to piss off a fairy, I thought to myself. “Who was the girl?”

He glanced at me. “Ask her ghost on the way out. The vampire had her bound to that abomination.”

My eyes swung back to the van and found a little translucent girl skipping around the flames. I almost retched again as tears pricked at my eyes and I turned back to Foster. “We need to do this fast. That fire is going to have cops here in minutes.”

“This won’t take long.” Foster’s arm snapped forward, catapulting his sword across the garage. A wet crunch blended with the distinctive ringing sound of Fae metal sliding through concrete.

Something unseen groaned and thrashed. A ragged breath filled the silence with a sickening burble. A few more steps forward and I found the source of the nauseating sounds. The vampire was pinned to the wall in the far corner, Foster’s sword stuck through his neck.

Foster grabbed a handful of the vampire’s hair and inched its face closer. His voice was flat, deadly. “You thought you’d get away with it? Killing my friend? Killing that little girl?”

The vampire opened its mouth but Foster jerked its head to the side in a quick, violent maneuver. The sword cleaved through half its neck, almost decapitating the monster in the process. Foster drew his sword out of the wall and stared at the blood.

“Colin was like a brother to me.” His voice was fast now, pulsing with anger. “Do you even
remember
the fairy you just killed?” Foster stomped on the vampire’s chest and I could hear the snaps as ribs collapsed. More gurgling huffs trickled out of the failing vampire. “You killed a child.” Foster stomped on the vampire’s groin until its entire crotch burst into a flat, fleshy, pool of gore. “A child!” Gurgling cries dripped out of the bloody mouth. I could only make out one weak word.

“Mercy …”

“There is no mercy for the merciless.” Foster slammed his sword into the remnants the vamp’s crotch, hard enough to slide through the asphalt beneath. The bastard’s eyes bulged and I marveled at the fact it hadn’t passed out.

“My mother is Cara,
Sanatio
of the Sidhe and
I
am her demon sword.” The vampire’s eyes closed as Foster grabbed its ankles and cleaved its body in two by jerking it over the sword. Grotesque tearing sounds echoed through the garage, punctuated with the pop of joints and cartilage as skin and clothing parted. Foster didn’t stop until the skull crunched on the blade.

As the blade split the skull, Foster drew the dark bottle from his belt and pulled the stopper out. He jammed the neck of it into the vampire’s mouth and I watched that infernal device go to work. More than an aura was ripped away from that devil. I watched the dim yellow glow swell into being as the vampire’s soul was torn away and twisted inside its own aura, only to have the mass shredded and bound together again and again as both threads of being spiraled into the dark bottle. I glimpsed the blackened red of a demon’s tainted aura before Foster sealed it all away.

Nausea tore at my gut. The vampire would have felt all of it. His aura and his soul were still attached to the body up until the point Foster placed the stopper in the bottle. The tiny pieces of its aura still attached to the remains turned to the white and black colors of the dead in an instant.

“Rest well, Colin,” Foster whispered.

I stared at the bottle in Foster’s hands before my eyes trailed back to the mess at our feet. My stomach did little flip-flops as the body twitched.

“I think you managed to cut his skull exactly in half. Does that still count as a severed head?”

Foster slid the dark bottle back into his belt and smiled. He drew the bloodied sword from the pavement and lashed out at the vampire’s neck, removing both halves of the head in a swift slash.

My head turned as fast as my hand leapt to my gun when someone gasped behind us. I thought we were screwed until the fangs flashed out and the petite brunette woman dropped into a defensive stance. I put a hand out on the silver Mercedes beside me, sighed, and smiled. “Karen, I presume?”

She blinked slowly. I thought her face was a little mousy, and adorable, even as her eyes shifted from Foster, to me, and to the bits and pieces on the ground. “You killed him.” Ah, she was observant too.

Foster nodded and wiped his sword down with a scrap of cloth.

“Quite thoroughly,” I said unnecessarily.

Karen stepped up to the body and spit on it.

“He’ll suffer,” Foster said as he paused in his cleaning and patted his belt.

Karen didn’t ask any questions, she only nodded.

“Help me put the pieces in the fire?” Foster said. He finished wiping down his sword, threw the rag on the body, and sheathed the blade. It clicked home with the finality only a fight can conjure.

Karen nodded and grabbed the left half while Foster grabbed the right. I tossed one half of the head into the fire, then went back to find the other. It’d spun off beneath an SUV. That would have been a nasty surprise. I picked it up by the least gory chunk of hair I could find and tossed it into the flames before wiping my hands on my shirt.

 “Yuck,” I said.

Karen had a weak smile on her face. She bowed her head and said, “Rest well, Colin.”

Foster gave her a smile and closed his eyes. He drew his sword, held the flat of the blade to his forehead, and nodded once. “Let’s go home,” he said as he sheathed the blade.

“Thank you,” Karen said. “I’ll get the Pit to send some Cleaners in, make sure the blood is gone. They have a few staffed on the local force, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Keep the Watchers out of it.”

I nodded. “Maybe we’ll see you at the Pit sometime.”

She smiled and walked away.

Foster was silent as we walked back to Vicky, the flames from the van still choking the air with smoke and the scent of burning rubber.

“You alright?”

“Yes, Colin was a good friend, Damian, and he is avenged.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I jerked my head back toward the inferno. “That was intense as hell.”

Foster threw his head back and laughed. “No, my friend,
that
was almost mercifully quick. If it weren’t for the demon, I would have taken my time.”

I shivered and kept my mouth shut. There are some things even the cat’s curiosity can keep its mouth shut for.

I was surprised when Foster climbed into Vicky while he was still seven feet tall. I couldn’t help but smile as he fumbled with the seatbelt, feeding his wings around the edge of the seat to get them inside.

“Yeah, let’s go home,” I said as I reached up to adjust the rearview mirror and let out a startled yelp.

“Stowaway,” Foster said with a smile.

A giggle rolled up from the back seat.

I’d forgotten about the ghost of the little girl after our vampire friend met his rather awful end. I almost jumped out of my skin when I checked the rearview mirror and she was sitting in the back seat. I’m not entirely sure where “jumped out of my skin” falls on the fright meter, but I think it’s right up there with “crapped my pants.”

She smiled at me and bounced up and down on the seat. Her body was almost entirely gray except for a set of blazing blue eyes.

“Strong soul,” I murmured.

Foster twisted around as best he could in his seatbelt. “Hi,” said the ginormous fairy with his wings stuffed into the small car and his knees drawn up to his chest.

The ghost giggled again and reached out to Foster’s wing. I cursed when her hand didn’t pass through it. It should have, instead it rested on his wing like a real hand.

“Do you have a name?” Foster said.

She nodded vigorously and pulled on his wing. A little shower of dust puffed into the air, I sneezed, and she giggled.

“Are you going to tell me your name?” he said.

She shook her head and smiled a devil’s smile, a familiar smile. My brain started working over time.

“Was that the only bad man?” Foster said quietly.

I watched her face close down. She stopped bouncing and scrambled into the corner of Vicky’s back seat. Her eyes dimmed and a tiny shake of her head was all the answer I needed. She held up two fingers. I met Foster’s eyes as his face turned hard.

He took a deep breath and put a smile on again before turning back to the little ghost. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

“Shit!” I said.

“Not in front of the kid,” Foster said, his voice serious.

“She’s the girl from the Amber Alert. She’s the missing, that mother fu-” I stopped myself by squeezing the steering wheel and grinding my teeth.

I didn’t need to say more. Foster got it. He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. We’d taken down one of her killers. We’d find the other.

The little girl stared at her hands. I turned my eyes back to the road when the ghost suddenly launched herself into the front seat and wrapped her arms around Foster’s neck.

Foster closed his eyes and hugged her. No part of him phased through her tiny body. “What do we do?” he said as he glanced at me.

I blinked slowly and took a deep breath. “I might know someone that would like a ghost friend. He’d do a hell of a job protecting her too, if you don’t mind losing a little more sleep tonight of course.”

“Really?” Foster said.

I nodded and pulled onto Highway 40.

“Do you like panda bears, missy?”

The little ghost smiled and clapped her hands.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“You sure, Zola?”

“Yes, stop rambling like a fresh fish. It’s a good idea. Take the girl to Forest Park. He will guard her better than any of us are able.”

“Thanks, Zola.” I nodded even though my master couldn’t see me.

“We can try to find out more about her later. It is tragic, but we have worse to deal with. Get some sleep, Damian.”

I laughed, hollow and lifeless, before I ended the call.

I didn’t tell Zola we were already in Forest Park. I was standing outside the birdcage in the dead of night with a tiny ghost holding my hand and a seven-foot fairy watching our backs. I closed my eyes and focused, gathering up a glowing ball of fae before sending it out in a pulse of power across the park. It wasn’t aimed at just any dead; it was aimed at attracting the attention of one particular ghost. It didn’t take long.

The little girl at my side squealed as Happy came bounding through the bars of the birdcage, much to the chagrin of the scattering birds.

Happy pulled up about six inches in front of us. I held up another ball of energy and the spirit quaffed it down before I started scratching his ears. “Hey buddy, still terrorizing the birds, huh?” He leaned into the ear scratching and grunted.

“That is
so
wrong,” Foster said.

I turned to the little girl. She clung tightly to the back of my leg. Happy pushed his head between my legs and I heard another squeal. So, there I was, with a fairy laughing at me, a ghost panda between my legs, and a little girl unwilling to relinquish her death grip on me while she tried to get away from Happy. I couldn’t help but laugh as I stumbled a few steps.

“It’s okay, he’s friendly.” She calmed down almost as soon as the words left my mouth. I raised my eyebrows in surprise and then yelped as Happy threw his head back and sent me sailing into Foster. He cursed as we went down in a tangled heap on the rough edge of the sidewalk.

The little girl was laughing hysterically and rubbing Happy’s ears. I swear the damn panda was laughing too.

“You take care of her, okay?” I said to the suspiciously articulate panda bear.

Happy licked the little ghost. She squealed and scrunched up her eyes.

“Right, alright then. We’ll be back to visit.” Not that either one of them cared. The little girl took off at a run with the bear lumbering beside her. I smiled and turned around to Foster. “Good deed for the day. I think I need a chimichanga.”

He stopped dusting himself off and stared at me. “You are a very strange man, Damian Vesik.”

“Thanks,” I said with a quick bow.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Foster as he slapped my shoulder.

***

I finally made it back to my apartment after dropping Foster off at the shop. I grabbed a snack and shuffled into the living room, half asleep when I heard a faint scratching sound on the rug. I set my chunk of Swiss gruyere cheese on the coffee table and raised my hand in preparation to blast my home invader into another dimension. A small, pointy head of fur popped out from beside the leg of my coffee table and eyed my cheese, cute little whiskers twitching in anticipation. Damn rodents.

For some reason, my thoughts turned to more evil critters. Ferrets. God’s bane in a four-legged tube sock. Namely Frank’s ferret. I glanced down at my right hand to admire the string of puncture wounds that hellspawn had put in it, then back at the black rat with its white twitching snout, now stretching up on its hind legs.

I blew out a breath, broke off a chunk of cheese and dropped it beside the front door. The rat scurried over to it, clamped his teeth on it, and shot out the little rubber flap. It’s times like this I think maybe I should nail the old doggie door shut.

My eyes trailed across the fabulous Berber carpet, accented with scorch marks and a perpetually empty rat motel. I never put the poison in it. I just keep it there for show when my Mom comes around. My lips twitched as an idea flashed through my head. I picked up the phone and called Frank. He picked up on the second ring.

“Huhllo?” Frank said, his voice heavy with sleep.

“You still know that explosives guy?”

“Damian?” He groaned and popping noises echoed through the phone.

I stared at the receiver and wondered what part of Frank just broke.