“Is that the fake Ifrit?” Sherwood asked. Unlike the rest of us, she hadn’t seen it before. I nodded, but couldn’t answer her next question. “But what was it doing here?”
Eli looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure, but I think it found the shape-shifter and attached itself to her-in much the same way a true Ifrit might find a practitioner and do the same. Then it stayed here to guard the house, another base of operations for her, as a faithful ally. That might also be why we haven’t seen it for a while-it went to ground here. The real question is, where is the shape-shifter now?”
“Not here, obviously,” Victor said.
“So what next?” I asked, but he just shook his head.
We looked around the house, hoping to find a lead, but apart from the garbage strewn about, there was nothing. I’d assumed we’d find the remains of Morgan’s body somewhere in the house, but there was no sign of her, either. We finally gave up and left the house. We drove back to Victor’s, but by the time we reached his house, we had our lead. Lounging casually against the side of my van, waiting for us, was the Wendigo.
TWENTY
“WELL, GREETINGS, FELLOW TRAVELERS,” HE SAID. “Fancy running into you here.” He noticed Lou, who was looking at him with some distaste. “I see you found Lou,” he said to me. “Nice work.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Is that any way to talk to a friend? No thank-you for my troubles?”
“Thanks,” I said grudgingly. He had helped, but the memory of his pushing me into the energy pool was not a pleasant one. “I do appreciate that.”
“De nada.” He waited for me to say something more, then pouted when I remained silent. Finally he shrugged. “You were out looking for the other shape-shifter, weren’t you? Any luck?”
“What’s that to you?” Victor said.
“Nothing, really. I just thought I might be of some help.”
“And why would you want to help us?”
Eli, who usually smooths over such confrontations, watched and said nothing.
“Well, I don’t, actually. Not you, specifically. But Mason’s not so bad. Almost a kindred spirit. And I’ve decided I like it here.” He pushed himself away from the van. “I was getting bored; now I’m not. But I do want to blend in, and the less trouble, the better. Trouble has a way of expanding outward, and pulling innocent bystanders-like myself-into its orbit.”
“Terrific,” said Victor. He wasn’t impressed by this explanation, but I made a small “cool it” gesture with my hand. I saw no point in antagonizing the Wendigo. He surely had his own agenda, but he could also be a great help.
“Yeah,” I said. “We were out looking for it, but it’s gone to earth. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you know where it is?”
“Not right at this moment, no. But I can point you in the right direction.”
“That would be helpful indeed,” Eli said mildly, finally speaking up.
Victor shook his head in disgust and turned away. He wanted nothing to do with another uncanny creature. The Wendigo looked over at him.
“I get the feeling you don’t much care for me,” he said. “I’m hurt, deeply wounded.”
“I’ll bet,” said Victor. The Wendigo smiled.
“Come on,” he said to me. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”
I didn’t trust him any more than did Victor. He wanted something, I was sure, but there was only one way to find out what that might be.
“Sure,” I said.
I climbed into my van and the Wendigo got in beside me. Lou jumped in the back, not happy, but without protest.
“Watch him,” I told Lou. The Wendigo started to say something, but I held up a hand. “I know, you’re deeply hurt.”
“Anywhere in particular?” I asked as I pulled out of the driveway. He held up a hand for silence, as if he were listening for something.
“Do you know where the Beach Chalet is?”
“Of course.”
The Beach Chalet is a café across from Ocean Beach, just down from the Cliff House. They mostly serve food, but you can also get just a beer or a cup of coffee, and they have an outdoor patio around back, right next to one of the Golden Gate Park trails. It’s perfect for Lou-he can wander from table to table, begging snacks from soft-hearted diners.
On the way over, the Wendigo seemed content to sit quietly for once, although he kept up a constant drumming with his fingers. It would have been annoying on a longer drive, but I have to admit he kept good time.
We got a table in the back and ordered coffee and bagels with cream cheese at twice the price of an ordinary café. The Wendigo had no money, naturally, so I had to pick up the check. Lou darted off into the bushes on the other side of the nearby trail as soon as we got there. He hadn’t gone far, I was sure. He was watching us from a secure and undisclosed location under a bush. For once he had taken my instruction seriously; otherwise he would have been making the rounds at the other tables, begging for scraps.
“So what’s up?” I finally said, after we’d chatted for a while about music and ordinary things, just as if we were normal people. “I don’t have any more of those stones, you know. Really.”
The Wendigo crumbled up a corner of bagel and threw the crumbs on the ground, where a horde of small Brewer’s blackbirds were hopping around scavenging.
“I believe you. But I think I’ve found another way to remain here. Something’s happened to me since I crossed over-I’ve become more human, in some fashion I don’t quite understand. And I’ve lost some of my powers-not all of them, not by any means, but some. That’s why I wanted to get away from Victor. If he knew I was weakened, he might decide to do something about me, just in case.”
That was not an entirely irrational fear. Victor was big on preemptive action. And what the Wendigo was saying wasn’t that difficult to accept. Rolf and his friends had once been practitioners, as human as I was. Over the years they’d morphed into something not quite human. Some of them weren’t even remotely human, not anymore. I saw no reason it couldn’t work the other way around.
“Anyway,” he continued, “one of the things I seem to have acquired is a conscience of sorts. Things that once amused me no longer seem quite as funny. Like people dying.”
If he’d acquired a conscience, it would have been in the last couple of days, which seemed rather convenient.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” I said, smiling insincerely. Hopefully he hadn’t yet developed enough humanity to be able to read subtleties.
“So, I do want to help. And as I said, I haven’t lost all my powers. I can still find people, and shape-shifters, even if I can’t call them anymore. I know where the shape-shifter is, and who she’s adopted as an aspect.”
“Who would that be?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.
“You’re not going to like it.”
“I don’t expect to.”
“It’s your friend Morgan, the woman who helped to find me in the first place.”
“I don’t believe it,” I said, although of course I already did.
An expression of concern appeared on his face. It didn’t look exactly phony, but there was something not quite right about it, either. Maybe he felt nothing and was just aping human emotions. Maybe he hadn’t got the human thing down quite yet. True sociopaths will do exactly the same thing, but they have it down perfectly and it’s almost impossible to distinguish their manufactured emotion from the real thing. And sociopaths are still human, after all. In a way.
“I imagine it’s a hard thing to accept, that a friend could have been taken like that,” he said. “But believe me, it’s true.”
He pointed to the path that paralleled the back of the café. I followed the direction of his finger, and there, walking quickly with her head down, was Morgan. I sat very still, hoping she wouldn’t glance over and notice us. This was no place for a confrontation, and with the shotgun sitting uselessly in my van, it probably wouldn’t turn out well for me anyway. I couldn’t let her just stroll away, though.