“Thanks for coming,” I said, letting him in. “Come on back. We’re in the kitchen.” He grunted a greeting. I figured he was nervous, as well as just curmudgeonly.
Teag offered Chuck a cup of tea, but Chuck shook his head and stood at one side of the small table, eyeing Sorren and Mirov. “I’m here,” he said. “What did you want to know?”
“Cassidy says you’re willing to guide us in to the storage facility,” Sorren said. He was standing out of direct light, leaning against the counter.
Chuck regarded him for a moment, then nodded. “I said I would.”
“Why?” Mirov asked. He was at the end of the table, dark, glowering, and intimidating. I suspected it was intentional.
Chuck didn’t scare easily. “Moran and his attack dog killed my friend Jimmy, and I figure he was behind some other people disappearing. People I liked. I spent ten years getting rid of scum like him when I was in the Army. It rubs me wrong, and I’d like to do something about it – and get my clocks.”
“Attack dog?” Sorren asked, raising an eyebrow.
Chuck gave a sarcastic smile. “What else do you call a demon that comes when you whistle?”
I could see that Chuck’s attitude and his knowledge was making an impression on Sorren, and I suspected he was using his heightened senses and long experience to size him up. I had the feeling that Chuck was sizing up Sorren as well.
“What do you know of demons?’ Mirov scoffed. “Comic books? Movies?”
“I was with a team that fought a lamashtu in Iraq,” Chuck said without batting an eye. Lost two men, came out with four, bound the demon and turned it over to a local holy man to get rid of,” he added.
“Gave me this.” Chuck pulled up his sleeve. A deep gash ran from his shoulder to his wrist.
“Go ahead,” he said, leveling a challenging look at Sorren and Mirov. “Touch the scar. If you’ve got an ounce of magic, you’ll know I didn’t get it cutting my lawn.”
“Anything else?” Mirov questioned, not yet convinced.
“We put down an Adromalech-level demon in South Korea,” Chuck replied. “Nasty. His minions spit a mix of acid and poison. I got this for a souvenir,” he said, and bent his head so that we got a good look at the puckered burn on his neck. “I spent two weeks in the base hospital. Almost died before they figured out how to knock out the infection.”
He glared at them. “And I’ll say it again: go ahead. Touch the scars. If you’re what you claim to be, it’ll be clear that I’m telling the truth.”
We appeared to have a testosterone stand-off between Chuck, Sorren, and Mirov. I rolled my eyes.
“Folks, we’ve got a demon on the loose and at least a dozen dead men. Chuck can get us in, and get us around the obstacles,” I said. “Personally, I think we need all the help we can get.”
“Give me a moment,” Sorren said. “I’d like to speak with Taras.” Sorren and Mirov moved into my office and closed the door.
Chuck looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “The blond one. You know what he is?”
I deliberately misunderstood. “Belgian?”
Chuck glowered. “Vampire.”
“How did you know?”
Chuck snorted. “Used to work with three of them, back in Dragon Unit. Me and the other guys used to donate blood to the company medics so they’d have a supply. Let them bite me more than once, in a pinch, when they got hurt bad.”
Despite my first impressions, I found myself liking Chuck. He was cantankerous and headstrong, but he stood up for his friends and for what he believed. That was a rare trait. I couldn’t blame Sorren and Mirov for their caution, but I was convinced Chuck belonged in our group, along with Lucinda.
Sorren and Mirov emerged from their discussion. Mirov glowered, but I couldn’t tell whether he had been overruled or whether that was his normal expression.
“You’re in,” Sorren said abruptly, moving to stand directly in front of Chuck. Chuck lifted his chin to the challenge in Sorren’s voice, but he did not try to meet Sorren’s gaze.
“Be clear on this. If you betray us, or cause harm to come to one of mine, you will not survive.”
Sorren’s expression made it clear that the warning was not idle.
“I’ll hold up my end,” Chuck snapped. “I’ll get you in and out. Just make sure I get my damned clocks.”
“When?” I asked.
“Tomorrow night,” Sorren replied. “There’s nothing to gain by waiting any longer, and the longer we wait, the more likely it is that Moran will change his plans and we’ll lose our chance.”
“I borrowed my brother’s old panel van,” Teag said. “It’s beat up, but it runs well. And it’s nondescript, just a hard-used white van.” He grinned. “He won it in a card game, and it’s had a lot of owners – it would be tough for anyone to track it back to him, or us. That should be good to get Cassidy, Chuck and me to the Navy yard.”
“Lucinda and Taras and I have our own transportation,” Sorren said. “We’ll meet you at Stor-Your Own.” “We’ll be there,” I said. “It’s about time Stor-Your-Own and the dead men got to rest in peace.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I WAS DRESSED for mayhem. Since I’d taken over Trifles and Folly, my all-black wardrobe had expanded, and not in the little-black-dress way. I’d found it prudent to acquire black jeans, black shirts, a couple of black hoodies, and shoes with really good traction. I even had my own lock picking kit, and had the best jewel thief in Antwerp as my mentor. This wasn’t what I had anticipated when I majored in Antiquities in college.
Maybe I should have been concerned at how often breaking and entering seemed to come with the job. But I knew the danger that the objects we were dealing with presented, and the risk of getting caught seemed far less frightening than what the demon could do.
Teag was dressed in all-black as well, looking a bit like a raven with his sharp features and dark eyes. I spotted his magical stole before he zipped his hoodie closed, and I saw the headscarf tied over his dark brown hair beneath his hood. In my mind, we looked like burglars, but I guess we could tell people we were on our way to a Goth outing.
“You’ve got the head wrap and the stole,” I noted. “How about the hand loom and swords?”
Teag nodded. “Yep. And I brought my fighting staff, too. Did you bring your lucky charms?” I knew he was trying to keep the mood light, but from the way he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, I also knew that he was nervous. So was I.
“I’ve got them,” I replied. Bo’s collar was wrapped around my left wrist. I had a very strong sense of his presence, to the point of finding several of his hairs on my shirt, a shirt I had purchased after his passing.
It could be that dog hair lingers forever in the carpet, but I chose to take it as a message of support from beyond the Rainbow Bridge.
The amber spindle whorl was in my pocket. I had carefully removed it from its velvet bag so that I could get skin contact with it as soon as I put my hand in my pocket. I had the ring and the jet bracelet.
And of course, I wore my agate necklace, purified and recharged in the light of last night’s moon. In the right sleeve of my hoodie, I had Grandma Sarah’s mixing spoon. I had Alard’s walking stick through a belt loop on my left hip.
I spotted a bit of cloth sticking out of Teag’s pocket. “Did you bring something extra?”
“Just something I thought about at the last minute,” he said. “I used to buy little things from Jimmy Redshoes once in a while, just to help the guy out. Sometimes, he would sit and whittle while he was waiting for a customer to come by, and he would sell some of the things he made.”