Possibly, I said, but I’m not going to rule him out just yet. He was too straightforward. I’ve never met an imp that willing to answer questions.
Maybe he’s scared of the people moving in on his territory, Maggie suggested. If there’s a bigger, badder imp out there gunning for his turf, it might be in his interest to be honest with us.
An imp war. That’s the last damn thing we need right now. I started the truck, then opened the glove compartment, sorted through a handful of loose cigars – an old tip from Baron Samedi – and pulled out a bag of honey-roasted cashews. Snacking away, I drove out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway. “You Spin Me Right Round” came on the radio. I hummed along, thinking aloud at Maggie. I have my doubts that even an imp king is greedy enough to steal souls. Imps are involved – we’ve got a pile of their dead kin to prove it – but I have the feeling it’s going to lead back to something more dangerous than these little assholes.
What next? Maggie asked.
In answer, I dialed up Justin and listened to the ringer until his voice came on.
“Justin, it’s Alek. Quick question for you.”
“Hey! I was just about to call you. What’s up?”
I drove with my knee, cashews in one hand, phone in the other. “Have you heard any whispers about an imp war?”
“Seriously?” He laughed. “There’ve been whispers about an imp war for years. When they start turning up dead in large numbers, I’ll believe that one of those lazy asshole kings has finally decided to start something serious.”
I sucked the salty-sweet flavor off one of the cashews, deep in thought. This didn’t necessarily rule out the possibility that a war was coming, or that Kappie was afraid of one. But if Justin didn’t find the idea credible, I leaned toward believing him. “So,” I asked slowly, “if I were to send you some pictures of some imps, could you run IDs on them with no questions asked?”
“Sure.”
“I’m serious. No questions.”
“Eh, nobody around here cares much for imps, and we still owe you for that thing with the bunyip. Yeah, I can do that.”
“Thanks. I’ll buy the first two rounds next time we’re out. Oh, what were you about to call me about?”
“That necromancer kid.”
“He give you anything?”
“No, but our examiner finished with him. That kid is stupid powerful. We actually had to overnight special restraints for him so he wouldn’t have to be under personal guard twenty-four seven. I’m not sure if that actually matters or not, but I thought you’d want to know. If you hadn’t broken his fingers, he probably would’ve killed you in that Starbucks.”
I growled in frustration. I still needed to know who hired him. “Thanks for the info. I’ll send you photos of imps to ID.” I hung up and tapped the corner of the phone against my bottom canines to the tune of whatever was on the radio as I sought after one of those many niggling thoughts that had crept past me while talking to Kappie. I dialed Nadine.
When she picked up, I said, “Nadine, I need you to do a little hunting for me.”
“What kind of hunting, hun?”
“Something’s been bothering me about that thing with Judith Pyke. First, who would know that she lost her soul, and second, who would be in a position to know that she was disgruntled over the whole thing?”
“Is that a question?”
“No, I’m thinking out loud. Do this for me: call LuciCorp and see if you can get anything else out of her file – whether someone who works there happens to be friends with her, or if her old case worker might have gotten a windfall recently.”
“That’s a lot of ground to cover.”
“I appreciate the help.” I hung up before she could protest further. I’d need to call Judith and ask her a few more questions, but that could wait until I had some more coffee in me. I was in a relatively rural area, and I despaired of having to wait until I was back to the freeway to find a Starbucks. Pulling up to a stop sign, I put away my cashews so I wouldn’t eat the whole bag in one sitting. When I sat back up, I saw a brief flash of metal out of the corner of my eye and heard Maggie scream in my ear.
Look out!
The world exploded in glass and twisting steel.
Chapter 7
Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP!
Pain shot through me, lancing upward from my left hand and spreading through my body like a fire. For a few moments, I thought my finger had been cut off. I jerked my head up and away from the wall of the truck’s cab, trying to blink through a haze of double vision. A black car had jumped the ditch and slammed into the passenger-side wheel well of my truck. A mix of smoke and steam rose from the engines of both vehicles. I shook my hand violently and held it to my face until I realized that the pain was coming from Maggie’s ring and not a wound.
I’m awake! I told her. What happened?
Two draugr are getting out of that car. They will be at your door in less than ten seconds, and they have every intention of killing you.
How long have I been out?
Moments, she answered. Get the fuck out of your truck.
I felt like I was moving through molasses as I tried to open the door. The whole frame of the truck had been twisted by the accident, and I had to put my shoulder against the door and give it a hard shove before it creaked open. Too much strength went into the shove, and I tottered out of the vehicle, my legs wobbly beneath me, and I slipped on the steep, muddy bank of the ditch my truck had been pushed into. I fell to my hands and knees and squeezed my eyes shut for a brief moment.
Move it, damn you. On your feet!
Maggie’s urging got me to my knees, then my feet. I could feel my muscles in that post-car-accident disjointedness, when the stiffness hasn’t set in yet but your body knows something is wrong. My vision finally began to clear as the two draugr came around the front of my ruined truck. They looked, somehow, more… full than last time – meatier, taller, though their eyes were still hollow. One of them stopped, leaning over the bumper like it was looking for something, while the other came straight toward me at a run.
It leapt at me like a lion, arms out, razor-like fingernails hitting me full in the chest. I felt them bite into my tough skin as I grabbed him by the forearms and spun, using his momentum to throw him over my shoulder. The toss was successful, but I slipped on the muddy ditch again and went down into shin-deep, stagnant water. I splashed across and climbed the other side after my opponent.
The draugr was back on its feet by the time I reached it. I eyed its stance as it prepared to throw itself at me again, seeing absolutely no amount of finesse in the movement. Whoever this asshole had been in real life, it had not been a fighter.
Which didn’t mean it wasn’t insanely strong.
Mjolnir flared to life on the back of my hand. My knuckles connected with its chest, but unlike last time, my fist didn’t breeze through it like paper. Its sorcery-infused body buckled under the blow, bones grinding beneath the power of my tattoo but not giving way entirely. The draugr snatched at my elbow with its one good hand, its nails drawing blood, and tried to bury its blacked teeth in my neck.
The “remove its spine and watch it disappear” trick wasn’t going to work again. These guys had clearly gotten a makeover not just for their physical forms but for the sorcery holding them together. I got my left arm between my neck and the draugr’s gnashing teeth and backpedaled under the force of the draugr’s momentum. That force suddenly disappeared, and the draugr stepped back so abruptly that I nearly tripped backward over my own feet. I had just enough time for a moment of confusion before I remembered the other draugr.