“No way,” I said. I pointed down at Lou. “Does he look like a police dog to you?”
Lou got tired of this exchange and wriggled his way through the opening, squeezing past the attempt to block him. The guy turned and stepped back, unwilling to let a strange dog in, unwilling to step away from the door to get Lou, but also unwilling to close the door and trap Lou inside. Stoned as he was, he still realized that would not go over well. I took the opportunity to push the door all the way open and step inside.
A huge drum kit filled up one corner of the room, with three different toms and seven or eight cymbals. Sitting behind it was a familiar curly-headed fellow, wearing forest green. I thought for a second the guy at the door was going to tackle me, but the Wendigo sighed and said, “It’s okay, Zack; they’re friends of mine.” He eased out from behind the kit and walked over to us.
“Give us a moment, would you, Zack? We’ve got some business to discuss. Get me a soda, will you?”
Zack nodded knowingly. Private “business” was something he could understand.
“This is a surprise,” the Wendigo said.
“Yeah, we’re full of surprises. I didn’t expect to find you behind a drum kit, for that matter.”
“Music is my life. Or I hope it will be.”
He looked strong and healthy, bursting with energy. Those stones must have pumped him up considerably.
“Why didn’t you tell us we were looking for a shape-shifter?” I asked.
“So you finally figured it out. Who was I to spoil the surprise? I wasn’t that happy with you guys in the first place, if you’ll remember.”
“And in the meantime, a friend of mine nearly died.” A look of concern crossed his face, but I couldn’t tell if it was real or not.
“Sorry to hear that,” he said. “But telling you what it was wouldn’t have made any difference in the long run. She’s pretty focused once she sets her sights on someone.”
“She?”
“You assume all monsters are male? Kind of sexist, don’t you think?”
“Whatever. How do I find her?”
“Again, assuming I knew, why should I tell you?” I pulled the four green stones out of my pocket.
“Four?” he said, unimpressed. “That’s hardly worth my while.” The greedy look in his eyes belied his casual tone.
“It’s not like before; I’m not asking you to actually do anything. Just some information, that’s all. Still, if it’s not worth it to you.” I started to put the stones away.
“Hold on,” he said. “Hold on. Maybe we can do business here.” He really was a junkie for the stones. He could have a thousand of them and he’d still want more. I carefully laid the stones out on top of a speaker cabinet.
“How do I find it?” I repeated. “Or her.”
The Wendigo sat back down on the low stool behind the drums, picked up a pair of sticks, and started tapping idly on random drum surfaces.
“Why a drummer?” I asked, suddenly curious. “With your peculiar voice talents, I’d think you’d be a natural as a singer.”
“What fun would there be in that? Music is all about rhythm, anyway, at least the kind I like. Rhythm is what calls to the blood-it was the first music, before humans were humans. Believe me, I know.”
“So you’ve been around for a while,” said Sherwood, who had been silent up to now.
“Indeed I have.”
“Fascinating,” I said. “Once again, how do we find this creature?”
“Well, she’s in the city. I can tell you that much.”
“That much I already know.”
“And she’s taken on an aspect. Not the way I have-the aspect I have is pretty much the aspect I’m stuck with. But not her-she can steal the identities of normal people.” I was getting impatient.
“So far, you’re not telling me anything I don’t know,” I said.
“How about this, then. She’s got to kill every three days or so if she wants to keep strong. If she goes more than a week without a fresh infusion, she’ll revert back to her normal state and eventually end up as a mere mindless beast.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, this should be obvious, but she’s got a strong survival drive. Not just blind instinct; anyone she thinks could possibly be a threat to her she will target and murder-and feed off them as well, killing two birds with one stone, if you’ll pardon the pun?”
“What about your own abilities?” asked Sherwood. “You called Mason. You called me back from the dead, or close enough. Could you call her?”
“No, and I wouldn’t if I could. She’s not very pleasant. And calling her up wouldn’t fit in with my new lifestyle.” He did a couple of quick drum rolls. “But I can’t affect her, anyway. We cancel each other out, at least as far as special abilities go. But if you really want to locate her, you do have an obvious method.”
“And that is? “
“You’re clearly someone who’s a threat to her, and she knows that. All you need to do is to put yourself in a particularly vulnerable position and she’ll show up, believe me. Guaranteed.”
Bait. Once again. That seemed to be my current function in life. Still, not such a bad idea. Between Victor, Eli, and Sherwood, we surely could come up with a plan that would tempt her into showing herself but still keep me safe. Relatively. I scooped up two of the stones and put them back in my pocket. I didn’t think what he’d told me warranted any more, and in truth, I was loath to let them go anyway. The Wendigo got a weird look on his face and for a second I thought there was going to be trouble, but then Zack came back in carrying a couple of cans of soda.
“Everything cool?” he said, nervously, picking up on the tension.
“Totally,” I said. “We were just leaving.”
Zack stood in the doorway and watched us walk down the hall, still feeling paranoid, I’d guess. When he went back inside, he slammed the door and the sound of the dead bolt being aggressively shot home was audible all the way down the corridor.
“I thought musicians were supposed to be mellow,” Sherwood said.
“Jazz musicians are. Mostly. They have to be, just to get gigs. Heavy metal guys are another matter. Mostly Satan worshipers, I believe.”
We headed back to Victor’s. If we were going to set up a trap with me as the tempting morsel of cheese, I wanted to get started on it right away, before anyone else died.
We met Ruby coming out the front door of the mansion as we pulled up. She walked over to the driver’s-side window and reached in, putting a hand on my shoulder. She looked exhausted, with dark lines showing under her eyes. This thing was taking a lot more out of her than she’d admit.
“I’m sorry about the trouble with your friend,” she said. “And her dog. That’s sad. I’m glad you’re okay, though. But we really do need to do something about this, you know, before it gets worse.”
“We will,” I said. She looked past me inquiringly at Sherwood. “I’m sorry; I forgot you two haven’t met. Ruby, Sherwood.” Ruby smiled at her, and Sherwood nodded a bit distantly, which was unlike her. Weird.
“Let me know what you come up with,” Ruby said. “You know I’ll be glad to help any way I can.”
“Thanks,” I said. “We’ll be in touch. And be careful. I have a feeling one of us could be next on the hit parade.”
“You know me,” she said. “Always.”
She got into her old VW Beetle, waved, and putted off down the street. Lou and I jumped out of the van, but Sherwood remained seated, looking at me oddly.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “As I told you, ever since my return I see people more clearly. They seem almost transparent at times-that’s the best analogy I can come up with. Some people’s goodness shines through; others… Well, let’s just say not so much.”
“And Ruby’s one of those others?”
“Not exactly. It’s like there’s no one home, nothing there. I get no feeling at all from her.”