Magic Burns

Page 36

 

 

 

I snapped my hand at his face. He shied back and I handed his cigarette back to him. “These things can kill you.”

 

He stuck the cigarette back into his mouth and returned my ID. “Name’s Custer.”

 

“Kate Daniels.”

 

The canvas shielding the truck shifted, revealing a lean Latino woman next to a black cheiroballista. Built like a giant crossbow, the cheiroballista was small but accurate and delivered with amazing power. It could put a bolt through a vehicle door at close range. The Latino woman gave me a hard stare. She had the kind of eyes one gets after life hammered out all softness.

 

I held her gaze. Two can play the staring game. “I’ll pay for the information.”

 

“Hundred.”

 

I passed two fifties to Custer. Bye-bye, phone bill.

 

“Trailer twenty-three,” she said. “The yellow one. Head left, then turn right when the path forks.”

 

“If I have to take anything, I’ll write a receipt.”

 

“That’s between you and her. We don’t want any shit from the Order.”

 

I held another twenty out. “Know anything about Esmeralda?”

 

The woman nodded. “She was power hungry. Liked to scare people. I heard she tried to enter one of the older covens, but she played the game too much and tried to take over, so they kicked her out. She’s been threatening to ‘show them all’ ever since. Last I heard she made her own coven. Don’t know how she managed that—she wasn’t well liked.”

 

She took the twenty and pulled the canvas closed.

 

Custer tossed me a ball of telephone wire.

 

“Use it. Stuff changes around here. We get geeks down from the University of Georgia trying to study the ‘phenomenon.’ They go in and never come out.” His eyes lit up with a wry spark. “Sometimes we hear them calling out in the walls. Looking for a way back from theOutside .”

 

“Ever try to find them?”

 

“You’re asking the wrong question,” Custer’s face split into a happy grin. The cigarette performed a pirouette. “The question you should be asking is what they look like when we do.”

 

Oh boy. I tossed the wire back at him. “No thanks. I could hear that damned whooming even in death.

 

What’s making the noise?”

 

Custer reached over to the tank on his left and knocked on the glass. A dark shadow flickered in the tenebrous water. Something struck the far wall with a thud, and a huge head, as wide as a dinner plate, brushed against the glass. Mottled black and slimy like a toad’s spine, it rubbed its blunt nose on the