Unleashed

NINETEEN

I WALKED OUT OF RAMSEY’S WITHOUT ANOTHER look at him. He had told me all I needed to know. A trill, he’d said. A goddamned trill. I was as creeped out as I’d ever been in my life. I might never have sex again.

This explained why I hadn’t heard from Morgan. How foolish of me to have worried about her. She wasn’t at her parents’ house; she wasn’t out of state. She was holed up over at her lair in Bernal Heights, figuring out new and better ways to eliminate dangers to her existence like Victor and myself. And snacking on unfortunate acquaintances.

That thought hit me full force. Morgan was dead, of course, probably killed at the same time as her beloved dog. When I’d shown up there, the shape-shifter had taken the form of Beulah. When I drove it off, it had circled back and reappeared at the front door as Morgan. The real Morgan, or parts of her, had probably been down in the basement all along.

Victor followed me outside, but I didn’t stop walking until he grabbed me by the arm.

“You got something,” he said. I nodded. “And?”

“Morgan. She’s the shape-shifter.”

“How do you know that?” he asked, then stopped and cocked his head to one side, thinking. I could see his quick mind turning it over. Ramsey’s comment. My reaction. The night I’d called him when Morgan had spent the night. “Oh,” he said. Then the further implications struck him. “Oh,” he said again. “Well, you certainly can pick them.”

“Let’s get out of here,” I said.

When we got back to Victor’s, everyone was still up. Timothy and Sherwood were talking quietly in a corner of the study, and they were relieved to see us safe and sound. Eli had made it back from Berkeley and had to be filled in on the night’s doings.

“So it imitated me,” he said. “Fascinating.”

“Frightening is more like it,” said Sherwood.

“And you couldn’t tell?” Eli asked.

“It wasn’t perfect,” Victor said. “But in the heat of the moment, it could pass.”

“There’s worse,” I said. “It took over Morgan’s persona, and that one was perfect. Which means Morgan’s dead, and has been for a while.”

I sat down heavily on a small chair by the stone fireplace. The weariness I’d been keeping at bay washed over me. One thing was all too clear-I had royally screwed things up. Again. I sat there feeling sorry for myself, then realized how petty that was. It was Morgan who had paid the price, not me. Not only was I a screwup; I was an ass.

Maggie walked over and jumped into my lap. I was so astonished I almost fell off the chair. She’d never done such a thing before. She didn’t even like me much. Comfort and pity from an Ifrit with attitude. How low could I sink?

I hadn’t known Morgan that well, but I’d certainly liked her. And due to me, she was dead. If she’d never met me, if I hadn’t pulled her into this, she’d be blissfully going about her life, unaware and unafraid. If I hadn’t flirted with her and invited her to hear me play, if I hadn’t thought it would be neat to date a nonpractitioner for once, she and her beloved Beulah would still be alive.

I’m a practitioner; I deal with demons and monsters all the time, and even though I’m not that good at it, I can take care of myself. But she couldn’t, and I’d had no right to drag her into my world.

Sherwood came over from her spot in the corner and put an arm around me.

“You couldn’t have known what would happen, Mason. It’s not your fault.”

“No? How is it not my fault?”

“It’s not, son,” Eli said. “You can’t foresee everything.”

I looked over at Victor. He understood, and unlike Sherwood and Eli, wasn’t about to comfort and excuse me. He looked back at me for a long time, and finally gave a slight nod.

“Welcome to the world of grown-ups, Mason.”

“One thing I don’t understand,” I said. “Morgan, the shape-shifter Morgan, was with me all night after I brought her home. Why didn’t she just kill me while I slept?”

“Well, that might have been tricky for it,” said Eli. “It takes a while for it to change, does it not? It can’t just revert back to form instantly?”

“Apparently not.”

“And where was Lou?”

“On the end of the bed.”

“He would have given warning at the first sign, don’t you think? And you were on your own territory, where you’re strongest. And one of the few advantages we have is that it’s vulnerable itself. It’s strong and powerful, but without the element of surprise, it can be killed. As we’ve seen.”

“It’s simpler than that,” Victor put in. “You called me, remember? So I knew she was there with you. If anything had happened to you, we would have known just where to look. I imagine it thought the Morgan persona, with its connection to all of us, was too useful to abandon. So that call may have inadvertently saved your life.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said. “I guess that makes up for your trying to kill me tonight. But why didn’t she stay, hang out with me, wait for a better opportunity?”

“I can’t say for sure,” Eli said, “but I think it must be quite a strain to keep up the deception, even if it’s almost perfect. The longer she hung around with you, the more chance there was of you catching on. The longest Ruby was ever around any of us was a few hours that day you fought the other one at Morgan’s house, and she looked exhausted by the time she left.”

Eli was right; I remembered how tired she’d looked that same day when I’d run into her coming out of Victor’s.

“So what now?” asked Sherwood. “Do we go after it?”

Victor gave it his usual careful consideration.

“No, I don’t think so, not right now at least. There’s no big rush this time; it hasn’t the slightest idea we’re onto it. I think the best way is to set up a trap for it.” He turned to me. “Can you call Morgan, have her meet you?”

“I could if I wasn’t supposed to think she’s out of town. Or if she were answering her cell.”

“Hmm, too bad. I’ll have to think on this awhile.”

I was glad to hear him say that. I needed a night’s sleep more than anything. And I definitely wanted Lou healthy and ready to go. I didn’t feel comfortable without him.

I got up slowly, giving a Maggie a chance to jump down unhurriedly. Unlike Lou, she wasn’t a forgiving creature and if I’d rudely spilled her off my lap, she wouldn’t forget it.

I drove home in a dazed stupor and stumbled around when I got home, waking up Campbell and Lou. Lou sank back into sleep immediately. Campbell sat up in bed and turned on the bedside lamp.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Peachy. Go back to sleep.” For a moment it looked like she was going to pursue it, but instead she just gave me a long enough look so that I could change my mind if I wanted to talk, and then turned the light off again.

As soon as my head hit the pillow I was out, but I wouldn’t really call it sleep. I had one of those nights where I woke up every half hour or so, thinking morning had come, and then dropped off again in relief when I realized I still had plenty of night to go. It wasn’t very restful.

In the morning, Lou was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready for breakfast, with no indication anything had ever been wrong with him. Campbell made pancakes, which was a tradition of sorts with us, and Lou was in hog heaven. Or dog heaven.

I discussed the night’s events with Campbell over coffee and pancakes. She ate slowly and carefully, listening all the while. Lou of course had finished his and was looking up hopefully for more.

“This is quite a mess, isn’t it?” she finally said.

“You could say that.” She poured herself another cup of coffee.

“I feel I should stay and help out.”

“No need,” I said. “Hopefully it will all be straightened out before long.”

I knew she didn’t really want to get involved with any of this. She was a healer, and killing things, even bad things, was not her karmic mission in life. Mine, on the other hand, seemed to be just that, which was another reason why we hadn’t lasted. Even standing on the sidelines acting as a medic made her a participant, at least in her eyes. Of course, if anyone did get hurt and we needed her, she’d be there in a second.

“You sure?” she asked.

“Go on home,” I said. “We’ll be fine, honest. This time we’re the ones who have the element of surprise. The shape-shifter has no real power, no talent. It’s nothing more than a dangerous beast, when you come right down to it. And if we need you, you know we’ll call. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Campbell looked at me doubtfully, but she didn’t take much convincing. We had a quick breakfast, and she’d barely left when Victor rang again.

“It’s time,” he said. “And bring the shotgun.”

When I got to Victor’s house, everyone was there- Victor, Eli, Sherwood, and Timothy. Timothy wasn’t going with us, of course, but he often came up with solid ideas, and acted as a reality check when we overlooked the obvious. I was hoping Victor had come up with a clever plan, but no. His idea was simply to go over to Morgan’s house and confront the thing.

“That’s it?” I said. “We go knock on her door? Brilliant. What if she’s not there, or won’t answer?”

“Simple is often best,” Eli said. “These shape-shifters seem to like operating out of a home base. They’re comfortable in their own lair. She knows we think she’s gone; she has no idea we’re onto her, so what better place to hunker down in safety? If she finds you on her doorstep alone and unsuspecting, I’m guessing she’ll see it as another opportunity.”

Victor outlined the simple plan. I was to go up and knock on the door, while the rest of them hung back out of sight. If she answered, I would hold the door while everyone else rushed up to confront her.

“What if there’s no answer?” I said.

“We go in and search the house. It’s a simple tactical operation. We’re hunting a clever and dangerous creature, but it’s not like we’re dealing with another practitioner.”

A half hour later, everyone was in position. I handed off the shotgun to Eli-if I showed up at the front door carrying a large weapon, it would rouse suspicion in even the dullest of minds. And the shape-shifter was not dull-far from it.

I strolled casually up to the front door, Lou acting nonchalant as usual. Except, with him, it’s not an act. I rang the bell, waited, rang again, then finally knocked. No response. I listened for any sounds inside, but it was quiet as the grave, probably literally. The real Morgan was somewhere inside, I was sure.

After a while, I turned and walked back to where the others were waiting and shook my head.

“Okay,” said Victor. “Mason, you and Lou go around to the back in case it bolts. Take the shotgun, but wait here a moment until I take the wards down. The rest of us will go through the front door.”

I wondered how Victor would handle the wards. He was the one who’d put them up, but even so it would take a while to remove them completely. A small opening to squeeze through wasn’t going to do the job. I should have known.

He took a large chunk of clear quartz out of his carrying bag and set it down at the base of the house. He looked carefully at the wall in front, as if looking for something. Finally he gave a little grunt of satisfaction, raised a hand, and spoke one word. The wards collapsed in on themselves and drained into the quartz, like water swirling down a drain. The piece of quartz now glowed a deep and vibrant red, and the house was unprotected.

I know Victor’s good, but this was outstanding, even for him. Eli saw the expression on my face.

“Back door,” he said.

I thought for a moment he was telling me to go to the back of the house, but then realized it was an explanation. Just like programmers will sometimes leave a back door in a program they write, Victor had inserted a back door in the wards so that he could circumvent them at any time. There was no reason for him to do that, but it was just habit, I guess. I had done something similar myself last year, but not nearly as elegant.

Lou and I went round the back and waited. After five minutes, Victor appeared at the back door, Glock in hand, and motioned me inside. The place was trashed, in the familiar fashion, fast food wrappers and garbage strewn over the floor. But Morgan was no slob; I’d been here before. Any doubts I might have had were rapidly disappearing. Whatever had been living here, it wasn’t Morgan.

“Nothing on the ground floor,” he said. “Downstairs next.”

Downstairs was mostly all empty garage, with a small room off to the side that was bare and obviously empty. We climbed back up to the main floor.

“Upstairs,” Victor said.

Only two rooms, the bedroom and the other, were at the top of those stairs. We went in the spare room first, Victor turning left and me turning right. Lou checked under the bed-he’s useful that way. For Victor or me to check, we’d have to get down on our hands and knees and put our heads right next to the floor. Not a great position to be in when you’re looking for something with sharp claws. A quick check of the closet turned up nothing. All clear.

The bedroom was next, and we repeated the drill. Again nothing. I was convinced by now that the shape-shifter wasn’t in the house, but we had to check everything to be sure. Lou checked under the bed again, but this time after looking under it, he turned slowly toward the closet on the back wall. Victor nodded, positioned himself on one side of the closet door, and waved me back as I positioned myself on the other. Of course, if something came bursting out of that closet, it would be between us by the time we reacted. We’d be shooting directly at each other.

I circled back until I was at the end of the bed, directly in front of the closet door, but ten feet away. Not a good position to be in if there was a man with a gun behind the closet door, but not bad at all for intercepting something armed with only teeth and claws. I leveled the shotgun, making sure the safety was off.

Victor held up his right hand and showed three fingers, then clenched his fist. With his left hand, he reached out and grasped the closed door handle. He pumped his right hand three times, shooting out a finger each time, and on the count of three jerked the door open and jumped back.

It was an anticlimax when nothing jumped out. The closet wasn’t that deep, and coats and shirts and blouses on hangers took up every square foot. There wasn’t enough space left to hide a ravenous six-foot-tall monster.

I relaxed and lowered the shotgun, and that was when it burst out of the closet and straight toward me. It was on me before I could raise the gun again, but it wasn’t the Morgan creature. It was the fake Ifrit.

It had been crouched down low, small enough to hide at the base of the closet underneath the hanging clothes. It moved so fast it seemed to be flying through the air as it launched itself toward my unprotected stomach. It didn’t have the huge bearlike claws of the shape-shifter we were hunting, but it was easily capable of disembowel ing me on the spot.

As it leapt off the floor, I heard four flat cracking sounds, and it jerked, seemingly pausing in midair. It gave me just enough time to interpose the shotgun between it and me, like a protective staff. It crashed at my feet and, snarling, tried to rise again, but Victor took three quick steps over to where I stood and carefully put four more shots into it as it lay there. It jerked again, gave one last burbling snarl, and finally lay still.

Eli burst into the room seconds later, Sherwood a step behind. He saw the fake Ifrit lying dead on the floor and stopped in surprise.

“Not what we expected,” I said.

Victor walked over and prodded it with the toe of his shoe.

“Good riddance, though.”

“Yeah. Nice shooting. But did you happen to notice I was directly in the line of fire? A slight miss and I’d have been lying on the floor alongside it.”

“I don’t miss,” Victor said. The smallest hint of a smile flitted across his face. “At least, not often.”

I supposed he was right. The other option would have been for him to wait for an opening, and after that for me to pick up my entrails and try to stuff them back in my stomach.

“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.