Magic Mourns

An hour later Raphael stretched and opened his eyes. His lips stretched in an easy smile. “Hey. Now that’s a beautiful sight to wake up to.” I leveled my SIG-Sauer at him. “Tell me why the nice puppy was chasing you.” He wrinkled his nose and touched his mouth. “Is there something on my lips?” Yes, there is. “Raphael, concentrate! I know it’s hard for you but do try to stay on target. Explain the dog.” He licked his lips and my thoughts went south. Andrea, concentrate! Try to stay on target. Raphael remembered to look cool and leaned back, presenting me with the view of a spectacular chest. “It’s complicated.” “Try me. First, what are you even doing here? Aren’t you supposed to dragging around giant rocks right now?” About six weeks ago, the lot of us had entered the Midnight Games, an illegal, to-the-death fighting tournament. We did it to prevent a war against the Pack. Both the Order and Curran, the Beast Lord, took a rather dim view of this occurrence. As a result, Kate was on medical leave, and the Beast Lord, who had actually ended up participating in the tournament with us, had sentenced himself and the rest of the involved shapeshifters to several weeks of hard labor building an addition to the Pack’s citadel. “Curran released me due to family hardship,” Raphael said. Not good. “What happened?” “My mother’s mate died.” My heart jumped. Aunt B was . . . she was kind. She saved my life once and she kept my secret to herself. I owed her everything. And even if I hadn’t, I felt nothing but respect for her. Among boudas, as in nature among hyenas, the females ruled. They were more aggressive, more cruel, and more alpha. Aunt B was all that, but she was also fair and smart and she didn’t tolerate any nonsense. When you’re the alpha of a bouda clan, you have a lot of nonsense thrown at you. Had I grown up under Aunt B instead of the bitches who ruled my childhood, perhaps I wouldn’t be so messed up. “I’m so sorry.” “Thank you,” Raphael said and looked away. “How is she holding up?” “Not that well. He was a very nice man. I liked him.” “What happened?” “Heart attack. It was quick.” Shapeshifters almost never died of heart complications. “He was a human?” Raphael nodded. “They’ve been together for almost ten years. She met him shortly after my father died. The service was set for Friday. Someone stole his body from the funeral home.” A low growl laced his words. “My mother didn’t get to say good-bye. She didn’t get to bury him.” Oh God. I gritted my teeth. “Who took the body?” Raphael’s face turned grim. “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.” “I want in on it. I owe your mother.” Aunt B had a right to bury her mate. Or bury the thing that took her mate’s body. Either way worked for me. He grimaced. “Did you smell matches?” I nodded. “It’s the dog.” “Yeah. I picked up this scent at the funeral home and trailed it here. There was something else under it, but the dog stink is so damn acrid, it drowns everything else.” Raphael gave me a hard look. I motioned with my fingers. “Give.” “I thought I smelled a vampire.” A giant three-headed dog was bad news. A vampire was much, much worse. The Immortuus pathogen, the bacterial disease responsible for vampirism, killed its victim. Vampires had no ego, no self-awareness, no ability to reason. They had the mental capacity of a cockroach. Ruled by insatiable bloodlust, they killed anything that bled. If left to their own devices, they’d wipe out life on Earth and then cannibalize themselves. But their empty minds made a perfect vehicle for the will of a navigator, a necromancer, who piloted a vampire like a marionette, seeing through its eyes and hearing through its ears. Necromancers came in several varieties, the most adept of which were called Masters of the Dead. A vampire piloted by a Master of the Dead could destroy a platoon of trained military personnel in seconds. And 99 percent of the Masters of the Dead were members of the People. The People were bad, bad news. Set up as a corporation, they were organized, wealthy, and expert in all things necromantic. And very powerful. “Do you think the People stole the body?” “I don’t know.” Raphael shrugged. “I thought I’d throw it out there, before you jump in with both feet.” “I don’t care. Do you care?” “Fuck no.” Raphael’s eyes glinted, making him look a bit deranged. “Then we’re in agreement.” We nodded to each other. “So you tracked the sulfur scent here, then what?” I asked. “I ran into Fido. He chased me into a crevice. I sat there for about an hour or so, and then he wandered off and I ran the other way. Apparently, he didn’t wander off far enough. What kind of creature is Fido, incidentally?” “I have no idea.” All of my training had been in contemporary applications of magic. I could recite the vampiric biocycle off the top of my head, I could diagnose loupism in early stages, I could correctly identify the type of pyromagic used from burn pattern, but give me an odd creature and I drew a complete blank. “Who would know?” Raphael asked. We looked at each other and said in unison, “Kate.” Kate had a mind like a steel trap, and she pulled absurdly obscure mythological trivia out of her hair. If she didn’t know something, she would know who would. I pulled a cell phone out of the glove compartment. There was only one functioning cellular network. It belonged to the military and as a knight of the Order and an officer of peace, I had access. I stared at the phone. “Forgot the number?” Raphael asked. “No. Thinking how to phrase this. If I say the wrong thing, she’ll be dashing down to the ley line in minutes.” Kate had never met a person she didn’t want to protect, preferably by hacking at the hostile parties with her sword. But Kate was also human and needed the rest. Raphael gave me a dazzling smile. My heart skipped a beat. “Could it be that you want some alone time with me?” I dropped the safety off my gun. He raised his hands palms out, still grinning like an idiot. I put the safety back on and dialed the number. “Kate Daniels.” My best friend’s voice filled my ear. “Hey, it’s me. How’s your stomach?” “Stopped hurting. What’s up?” “I need to ID a twenty-foot-tall three-headed dog with blood-red fur and burning spit.” That’s right, routine, casual, business as usual, I encounter giant three-headed dogs every day . . . A small silence filled the phone. “Is everything okay?” she asked. “Everything is fine,” I assured her, smiling brightly at the phone, as if she could see me. “Just need an ID.” “Does the tail look like a snake?” I considered the long, whip-thin tail with a barb on the end. “Sort of.” “Are you in the office?” “No, I’m in our Jeep, out in the field.” “Look under the passenger seat in a black plastic bin. There should be a book.” Raphael hopped out, dug under the seat, and pulled out a dog-eared copy of The Almanac of Mystical Creatures. “Got it,” I said into the phone. “Page seventy-six.” Raphael flipped the book open and held it up. On the left page a lithograph showed a three-headed dog with a serpent for a tail. The caption under the picture said CERBERUS. “Is that your dog?” Kate asked. “Could be. How the heck did you know the exact page?” “I have perfect memory!” I snorted. She sighed into the phone. “I spilled coffee on that page and had to leave the book open to dry it out. It always opens to that entry now.” I examined the dog. “It definitely looks similar. Ours was bigger.” “Ours? Who is there with you?” “Raphael.” Kate’s voice snapped. “I’ll be in Atlanta in three hours. Where are you?” “I said it’s nothing major.” “Bullshit. You wouldn’t work with Raphael unless the Apocalypse was imminent and that was the only way to prevent it.” Raphael put his hands over his face and shook, making choking sounds that suspiciously resembled laughter. “Hardy har har,” I growled. “We’re completely fine on our own, thank you very much. If you want to help, tell me more about Cerberus.” “He belongs to Hades, god of the Greek underworld, where souls spend their afterlife. His primary function is to guard the front entrance. Also Hades occasionally sends him on an errand, according to myths. He’s supposed to hate sunlight.” “This one had no trouble with the sun. Can you think of any possible reason he would manifest?” “Well, a defilement of Hades’ shrine might do it. But Hades didn’t exactly have shrines. The ancient Greeks were scared to death of him. They averted their faces when sacrificing to Hades. They refused to even say his name. So I’m not sure.” “Thanks.” “You sure you don’t need me to come?” “Positive.” “Call me if anything.” I hung up and looked at Raphael. “Your mother’s mate, what was his name?” “Alex Doulos.” “Was he a Greek pagan?” A frown twisted Raphael’s face. “I have no idea. It didn’t come up. We had a careful relationship. He didn’t try to be my dad and I didn’t try to be his son. We met at holiday dinners and talked about sports mostly. It was a safe topic. What are you thinking?” I shook my head. “I’m trying very hard not to think anything. I’m just collecting data at this point. Did you see the way Fido fell?” “Like he was on a leash and it ran out.” Raphael drummed a quick rhythm on the dashboard. “It probably means he’s somehow bound to a specific area. I think we should go and look at it.” “I’m game.” Raphael shivered. “I don’t suppose you have any spare clothes?” “You should’ve thought of clothes before you decided to go human.” The sinful smile was back. “I always dreamt of being naked with you. Couldn’t pass up the chance.” I started the Jeep. “Could you get any more full of yourself?” “I’m mostly interested in getting you full of me.” The vision of being full of Raphael zinged through my brain, short-circuiting rational thought. “Come to think of it, there is something on your lips. Why don’t you use that side mirror over there to check it out?” He glanced into the side mirror and stared, slack-jawed. His lips were solid black. A thick black line of guy liner outlined his deep-set eyes and a little black tear dripped down his left cheek-bone. He touched his cheek, stretching the skin to better examine the tear, his face a flat mask, glanced at me, and exploded with laughter.  * * *

I stood atop the Jeep’s hood and slowly swept the vast network of ravines with binoculars. The Jeep itself sat on the edge of a shallow gap, just beyond the spot where Cerberus almost took a bite out of our backseat. Raphael, still gloriously naked, sat in the passenger seat and plucked random Hades-related trivia from the book. “A fun guy, this Hades. Apparently he bridenapped his wife.” “Things were much simpler in ancient Greece if you were a god. I’m sure he got himself a harem of mistresses, too.” The wind swirled with Raphael’s scents: the light musk of his sweat, the delicious redolence of his skin . . . I was having trouble concentrating. “No,” Raphael said, flipping a page. “Actually, Hades didn’t screw around. His wife was the daughter of Demeter, goddess of youth, fertility, and harvest. After Hades stole Persephone, Demeter refused to let the plants grow, starving everyone, and they had to reach a compromise: Persephone spends half of the year with him and half with her mother. The guy only had her for six months out of the year, and he still remained faithful. That must be some sweet sex right there.” I took the binoculars down so I could roll my eyes. “Do you ever think of anything but sex?” “Yes, I do. Sometimes I think of waking up next to you. Or making you laugh.” I was beginning to regret this. “Of course, I do occasionally get hungry . . .” he added. “And cold.” A white speck caught my eye. I adjusted the binoculars. A house. A two-story colonial, seemingly intact, sitting in the bottom of a ravine. I could only see the roof and a small slice of the upper story. Interesting. “Kate was right: the Greeks lived in fear of this guy. Instead of speaking his name, they called him the Rich One, the Notorious One, the Ruler of Many, and so on. Despite his sour disposition, he was considered to be a just god. The one sure way to piss Hades off was to steal one of the shades—souls—from his realm or to somehow avoid death. This dude Sisyphus apparently finagled a way out of death a couple of times, and Hades had it and made him drag an enormous boulder up a mountain. Every time Sisyphus almost gets to the top, the boulder rolls down and he has to do it all over. Thus the term ‘Si syphean task.’ Huh. I never knew that’s where it came from.” He showed me a page. On it a man and a woman sat side by side on simple thrones. To one side of the pair stood Cerberus. To the other an angel with black wings and a flaming sword. “Who is that?” “Thanatos. Angel of death.” “Didn’t know the Greeks had angels.” I turned back to watching the house. And just in time, too. Cerberus trotted out of the ravine to the left of the house. I could barely see his back. He passed by the building and began to circle it. “I see a house,” I said. Raphael landed next to me with inhuman agility. I passed the binoculars to him and he straightened, almost a foot taller than me. Standing next to him was a trial: his scents sang through me, the warmth of his body seeped through my clothes, and his skin practically glowed. Everything about him said “mate” to me. It wasn’t rational. It was the animal me, and I had to be better than that. “I’ll be damned,” he said softly. “Here is Fido. Going round and round. I wonder what’s in that house?” “I wonder why he doesn’t just go in and get whatever it is.” “I think we should find out. Andrea?” “Yes?” I wished he would stop saying my name. “Why are your eyes closed?” Because you’re standing next to me. “It helps me think.” I felt the heat wash over me and knew he had leaned to me. His voice was a soft masculine rasp, entirely too intimate. “I thought you were trying not to think.” I opened my eyes and found the deep smoldering blue of his irises right next to me. I lifted my index finger and pushed his chest. He slid on the Jeep’s hood, distorted by the charged-water engine underneath, and had to jump off, landing with the grace of a gymnast on the ground. “Personal space,” I told him. “I protect mine.” He simply smiled. “How do we get to the house with the dog making shark circles around it?” I asked. “Fido doesn’t see that well,” Raphael said. “It took him a while to find the crevice where I was hiding before, and he had to sniff me out. We fool his nose by masking our scent, we can probably get close enough.” “And how do you propose to do that?” “The old-fashioned way.” I sighed. “Which would be?” Raphael shook his head. “You really don’t know?” “No, I don’t.” He trotted off to the side and dived into a ravine. I waited for a couple of minutes, and he emerged, carrying two dark objects, and tossed one of them to me. Reflexively I caught it even as the reek lashed my nostrils. A dead, half-decomposed cat. “Are you out of your mind?” “Some people roll in it.” He grabbed the dog carcass and ripped it in a half. Maggots spilled. He shook them out. “I prefer to tear them and tie pieces on myself. But if you would prefer to rub it all over your skin, you can do that, too.” All my fantasies of touching him evaporated into thin air with a small pop. “Hunting one-oh-one,” he said. “Didn’t your pack ever do the hunts in Texas?” “No. I wasn’t in that kind of pack.” And I had fought my way out of shapeshifter society before it was too late. My face must’ve showed my memories, because he paused. “That bad?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” Raphael reached to the backseat and pulled a roll of cord we kept there. He uncoiled a foot-long piece and tore the tough hemp rope like it was a hair. “You don’t have to do it,” he said. “I keep forgetting you’re not—” Not what? Not normal? Not like him? “—properly trained. I’ll be back shortly.” He wasn’t better than me. Whatever he could handle, I could deal with as well. I picked up the roll of twine. If I had been straight bouda, like my mother, I would’ve enjoyed all of the enhancements Lyc-V brought, but even though I wasn’t as strong as a regular shapeshifter, I could handle the damn rope. I tore a piece, sighed, and pulled the cat apart.