Bones and Bagger (Waldlust Series Book 1) Page 27

  Val thought for a moment and added, “And we means the Prince and me. Why we brought in your kind of scum I will never know.”

  “Birds of a feather?” I said.

  No Face snarled at that. I could see the muscles of his arms straining for permission to take Val down. I had to hand it to the faithless ex-commie, he didn’t seem a bit concerned. It proved, at least for me, that Val hadn’t negotiated the deal through No Face. No, not No Face, but rather with someone higher up the demon food chain. Someone with a lot of horsepower put No Face under Val and Prince One Way. And No Face’s marching orders must have left nothing open to interpretation.

  “Vampire,” No Face said, “You brought us what they wanted.”

  True. But when did he become my agent? When your life comes down to being trapped in an alternate dimension that pretty much screams hell, in a cage constructed with an impenetrable, supernatural fire, you see your friends tortured in a painting created by an artist who took big bites out of your leg, and you end up needing a character reference from a demon with no face, it’s time for a transparent, self-evaluation of your life choices.

  “We get the bones,” Prince One Way said to No Face. “You get the vampire.”

  Wait a second. Time to fire my new agent. And I didn’t like the way this crew talked about me like I wasn’t standing right in front of them. Rude.

  “As you say, so will it be,” said No Face.

  “Hold up,” I said. “I’m not a piece of meat.”

  And if No Face ever got around to washing my underwear he might find his appetite curbed.

  “No,” No Face said. “Not just a piece of meat.”

  I didn’t like the demon agreeing with me. If what I’d read in novels or seen at the movies proved true, you never got what you expected out of his kind. And this guy could talk out of both sides of his mouth all day. With or without lips.

  “Also a fool,” he said. “But if you hand over the bones I will release the humans.”

  The demon pointed to the painting and I got the notion of a wannabe game show host. The crazy thought of No Face in an evening gown almost chased away the blood lust. Almost. I shook my head as if doing so could dislodge a growing confusion. Well, maybe confusion represented a poor choice of words. My focus narrowed to a shrinking tunnel with the blood lust standing all alone at the far end.

  I just needed to relinquish a plastic garbage bag—offer it and they’d open the cage. I’d hand over Chucky, even give them the purple leather bag with the strange symbols as a bonus just for a chance at the smallest of openings in my little prison.

  I stared at the two humans and saw two meals as I pawed at my belt for the purple bag. Not there. It likely fell out when I rushed through the portal and into the wall. I took a quick glance and saw an empty floor. OK, it fell out before the portal. Why did I care? I held up Chucky and saw greed on their faces. Perfect.

  “What about me?” I said.

  “We made no promises concerning you,” No Face said.

  The demon loophole. No problem. I would deal with that oversight after I dealt with Val. With Prince One Way. If No Face never experienced a vampire in full blood lust, he might just enjoy the surprise. I held up the Chucky bag and wondered how No Face could trade so cheaply. Dry bones for wet flesh. Deal of the century.

  “First release my friends,” I said, and I didn’t know where that came from. Friends? I had desire, not friends.

  “Done,” said No Face.

  Done? Done what? I wished the demon would just shut up and get on with it. They get the bones. I get the humans. A treacherous voice in my mind tried to convince me I’d never dealt for humans. Liar. My price the whole time. Humans in the painting and humans on the floor. Four out, two in. As I said, deal of the century. If No Face would cease his incessant babbling.

  The demon pointed toward the painting and I used my preternatural sight. Things had changed. I no longer saw familiar faces on the canvas but couldn’t think why that mattered to me. I had the vague notion of mercenaries marching out a door. Of screaming. Of terror. My teeth strained to extend beyond maximum length, and the result multiplied my desire for blood by one hundred percent per tooth. I’d never felt a pain so sublime…and so consuming in its demands.

  “And now the bones,” said Val. “Don’t forget our part of the deal.”

  The floor shook with No Face’s response.

  “Silence,” he yelled. “The bones are the purpose of our deal and the sole reason you still live.”

  They needed to clear up the sibling rivalry thing and set me loose. I roared—half in frustration and the remainder an instinctual response to No Face’s challenge.

  Everyone stared at me in surprise. I didn’t know what they expected—a bumbling and timid Sparky? A dangerous crazy-woman like Soyla? If so, I hadn’t brought it. Except the bones. I did have them.

  “I am Gaius Teutoberg,” I growled. “Of the people who ruled this forest.”

  Silence. Good thing too, because I didn’t know where I’d go next if they challenged that statement.

  “I command you to release me.”

  That one got No Face going.

  “You command nothing here, vampire.”

  “I suggest,” said Val. “We keep all eyes on the prize.”

  No Face looked at grandpa commie like he’d forgotten he existed. Maybe No Face needed a dose of blood lust to solve memory problems. If they needed a bag of bones to kick off this game then they could have it. For the second time I held up Chucky.

  “So be it,” said No Face.

  He might as well have said, “Gentlemen, start your engines.” Game time had finally arrived.

  Chapter 37

  The demon instructed me to put Chucky down and step away from the bag. No Face really didn’t say it that way. He just said to put down the bag. Nobody mentioned Charlemagne during the first stanzas of this particular nightmare so I followed suit. I felt confident I’d done what they’d wanted, so the specific language they used didn’t matter one way or the other.

  My bagger friends had disappeared from the painting. They were either somewhere in Germany or their charred bones rested among those of the mercenaries behind door number one. I’m ashamed to say that no matter how hard I attempted to care, I didn’t. Maybe I would again after a couple pints of the red stuff. It’s the maybes that allow us to look ourselves in the mirror some days.

  “I will not,” I said.

  “Will not what?” said No Face.

  “I’ll not put the bag down and step away from it,” I said.

  My three hosts looked briefly at each other and then back at me. They didn’t expect the rebellion. And I wasn’t bluffing. They’d need to come in with me if they wanted the dry bones.

  “Explain,” said No Face.

  I don’t know if demons get tired, but based on the voice wheezing out from wherever No Face conjured it, I’d say yes. If not physically, then perhaps emotionally. No Face sounded like he wanted to put this deal thing and the three remaining humans somewhere in his rearview mirror. Jump out of the rollercoaster at the top of the high hill if he needed to do that to return to more mundane demoning.

  “Simple,” I said. “Giving you the bones was never part of the deal.”

  That perked up Val. He seemed to know a lot about what constituted a deal.

  “Not part of the deal?”

  Val tipped me a shrewd glance. He’d probably stolen whole oil companies from their rightful owners back home in Mother Russia. He wasn’t about to let an amateur beat him out of this deal. What he didn’t know? I might be a pretty face, but I’m certainly no amateur.

  “Why does the vampire say this?”

  “It is obvious,” said Prince One Way.

  Val dropped the distant oligarch shtick and spoke in his true voice. I heard a silky danger—like maybe Val killed as many men as I had and only regretted he hadn’t killed more. No wonder Val underestimated No Face. No wonder he displayed foolish lack of fear in
his dealing with Soyla. And with me. No matter how big and bad the opponent, Val always found himself on top and his enemy’s rotting corpse underneath. I had news for him. He’d only ever played in the minor leagues.

  “And how is it obvious?” asked Val in his quiet, killer’s voice.

  Prince One Way pointed first to No Face and then at me.

  “We are dealing with demons,” he said. “It’s already cost the lives of our men…”

  The Arab Prince stopped in mid-sentence. I saw his eyebrows shoot up and his mouth form a slack “O” shape. He looked to Val.

  “You have the heart of a dog,” he said.

  Once again I wasn’t sure whether One Way meant Val or me with the dog thing, though he cleared things up by directing his next comment to Val.

  “You planned this,” he said. “For money. You knew when we stepped into this hell that our men wouldn’t be stepping out again.”

  “Planned? No,” said Val. “Suspected? Maybe,” he added. “But you can back out now if you want, Mr. Prince. I’m sure the demon can help you to the door.”

  The implied threat of another black door came through so clearly that even in the confusing fog of blood lust I understood what Val was saying. So did Prince One Way, because it took him less than an instant to decide he wouldn’t go That Way.

  “Good,” said Val when nobody moved. “And now vampire, please tell us why you back out of your deal.”

  I explained it all in half a dozen sentences. “Bring us what they want,” No Face had said and I’d agreed—if not specifically in writing then with my actions. A promise of service—““Bring us what they want”—followed by promise of payment—“and I will release your friends.” Even with my limited knowledge of the law and despite a mental state so depleted by blood lust I found myself wondering what really flowed through the veins of a demon, I saw a contract. And No Face seemed to agree.

  So I’d accomplished the “Bring us what they want” part of the deal. No Face gave me the hint when he summarily released my friends without my handing over the bag full of Chucky. Contract fulfilled. Contract closed. I’d heard demons were scrupulous in honoring the bold print parts. That left my agreement with Soyla.

  Which never happened. She only told me her masters wanted something and never gave specifics. Soyla was sloppy like that. On the other hand, she’d sexted some snaps that could move a king to launch an armada just for the honor of holding the smartphone for the next photo session. Soyla said they’d kill Sparky, but I’d already smelled a rat. Sparcius the conspirator and not the victim. It all made sense.

  Bottom line, I’d fulfilled my contract with the demons. I brought a bag of dry bones to No Face’s lair. Soyla’s handlers were there. Nothing about my conversation with No Face or with Soyla indicated I needed to hand the dry bones over to anyone.

  “I will not put the bag down,” I said, and my own voice began to sound gruff…like No Face’s.

  I wheezed each sentence, forced words through a mouthful of teeth that long since lost all patience for conversation.

  And I did not do as ordered. They’d need to come into my cage and pry the bag from my hands. I smiled, and it must have been out loud because I saw Prince One Way back up. Unimpressed with my amateur law brief, Val stood rubbing his chin with the same cunning look on his face that landed there when I balked at handing over the bag.

  “So a new deal,” Val said. “What more do you want?”

  “You,” I said.

  Now it was Val’s turn to take step back.

  “Then we’re at an impasse,” he said. “Because you is what we promised the demon.”

  Ever notice how proper grammar goes out the door when you put a man under stress?

  Wheezing laughter erupted through the demon’s version of a cathedral. From the way things sounded, either No Face just ridded himself of a troublesome intestinal blockage or something about the situation tickled his funny bone.

  The noise shook the walls and vibrated the floor. I saw both Prince One Way and Val cover their ears like little children attempting to block out the scary parts of a horror movie. And the sound grated on me to such a basic level that I thought I’d vomit if it continued. Think of the debilitating sort of nauseous feeling you get from motion sickness.

  No Face reined it in like a sailor trimming his sails atop the Sea of Insanity. Scary scene…at least he didn’t take a moment to howl at the wind.

  “An impasse,” No Face said.

  Prince One Way seemed most affected by what had gone down since I stepped through the portal. He’d morphed from arrogant to sullen, and then to whiny in the space of a few minutes. Just like my typical date.

  “Let’s forget it,” Prince One Way said, “I want to go home.”

  And there it was. The demanding child whose growth was stunted by endless supplies of American dollars and a procession of butt-kissers so deep that the Michigan football stadium couldn’t seat them.

  I growled when I spoke. “Forget which part of it.” I put Chucky’s bag back on the floor and ticked points on my fingers.

  “You want me to forget about a knife in the back?”

  One finger.

  “Or how about kidnapping a few of my buddies and holding them in a demon painting.”

  Finger number two.

  “You want to let’s all just call it even over herding me into a cathedral and turning me into a grave robber?”

  Not true. They really didn’t turn me into a grave robber because, truth time, I’d acted in that role before. But the group here didn’t need to know about that. Different story completely.

  “And while we’re forgetting things on the way out the door,” I said, “let’s just call it even and not mention the twenty guys you just fed to No Face’s furnace out there.”

  Another finger, and this time I used my other hand to point to the black door.

  “But I think you’d need to convince a few families to forget all that horror too.”

  Prince One Way reacted as if I’d smacked him in the face. He brought his hands up to his cheeks and rubbed them hard before covering his eyes. Only for a moment because he let them fall back down to hang limp at his side.

  I tapped into my blood lust. Got on top of it…that’s a better way of describing it. I rode it along the path to a rare destination for me—self-righteous anger.

  “Maybe you want me to call it even and overlook how you dealt my life with some uber-demon in exchange for a bauble.”

  No response from anyone, so I kept going.

  “See if you can forget this,” I said as I moved my hands forward to within inches of the hellfire cage.

  Funny thing about flipping a person the bird. The flipper thinks the harder you squeeze your fist and the jerkier you move your hand, the greater the intensity of the insult. I think Prince One Way also understood I’d set my bird generator for maximum stun.

  If his thoughts showed up on a billboard then I suspect we’d all have been treated to the kind of denial prevalent in political circles these days. Don’t like the facts? Deny them until you convince yourself they don’t exist. Better yet, hire someone to rewrite the truth until it becomes muddled beyond recognition. Just make sure to spare no expense in dodging blame that rightfully belongs to you.

  Prince One Way might get away with shedding his sins like a snake sheds its skin in the never-never land he called home. It wouldn’t fly here. I wouldn’t let it. He would stand up and take credit for his handiwork. And if it cost me my life? No problem.

  “A bauble, the vampire says.”

  I almost jumped at the sound of Val’s voice. So laser-focused was I on Prince One Way that I’d forgotten about everyone else. And as Val’s words registered, I realized something. My brain might have temporarily lost track of the others. But not my blood lust. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it from kicking in the bamboo beads that represented the last level of security over my self-control.

  “Yeah,” I responded, and I
wondered why I insisted on fighting the lust. Stubbornness? Once my friends disappeared from the painting hadn’t it all shifted from a rescue mission to common retribution?

  “Bauble,” Val said.

  Bauble or babble. I only cared about the blood. And didn’t that put me on par with the majority of my fellow card-carrying members of the human race. Everyone obeys their own version of blood lust in one way or the other. They call it by different names, but every knee does bow.

  “Yes, bauble,” I said. “How many lives are worth a thousand-year-old set of bones?”

  Val laughed. Not the humorous kind but of the variety you use when someone says something stupid.

  “Much more than a thousand years,” said Val. “Three thousand, to be more accurate.”

  That didn’t compute…even through the fog of blood lust. These guys hadn’t even researched what they wanted to steal? Someone missing a question or two on a history test doesn’t normally piss me off. This did.

  “Step away from the bag,” said No Face.

  I guess he’d seen enough of the posturing. Maybe he had an appointment in Ypsilanti or something and needed to catch the next demon portal to Detroit. Portal security can be a bear.

  “We’ve been through that already,” I said. “No way.”

  Unless you give me a sip of your human guests. I’d trade the bag and what’s behind the black door for what’s in Val’s arteries.

  “Impasse,” said No Face.

  And he offered a solution. The plan hinged on my willingness to place Chucky on the ground and withdraw a few paces. No Face would put another hellfire enclosure around him and his two amigos. I could then walk out the door and leave all my worries behind.

  And it wasn’t the black door we were talking about. I’d need to have less sense than Karl to fall for that one. I would depart this hell on earth through the same portal I’d sprinted through. No Face assured me I’d find myself back in the Aachen Cathedral. The deal sounded marginally OK except for two things.

  Polizei and blood lust for starters. The German authorities would have people all over the cathedral. Great news. So I beam in and my blood lust takes a sample of the first person I see.