Must Love Hellhounds

I watched him carefully, but he showed no signs of being surprised by the question. “I have a moderate knowledge of it, within the limits common to most educated individuals. I’m not, by any means, an expert.”

“Keeping in mind the previous question, how would you define the term ‘shade’?”

“An incorporeal entity representing the essence of a recently departed, a disembodied ‘soul,’ if you will. It’s a purely philosophical concept.”

“If confronted with a shade, how would you explain its existence?”

Ghastek leaned back, braiding his long fingers. “There are no such things as ghosts. All ‘spirits,’ ‘lost souls,’ and so forth are superstition. To exist in our reality, one requires a solid form. So, if confronted with a shade, I would surmise that it’s either a hoax or a postmortem projection. For some magically capable individuals death comes slowly, in that even after their bodies cease their function and become clinically dead, their magic keeps their minds functioning for an extended period of time. In effect, they are mostly dead. In this state, some persons may project an image of themselves, especially if they are aided by the magic of a trained necromancer or a medium.

“Folklore is full of examples of such phenomena. For example, there’s a tale in Arabian Nights that features a sage whose head was struck off his body after death and set upon a platter. It recognized people familiar to the sage and was able to speak. But I digress.” He invited the next question with a nod.

“Are you aware of any necromancers unaffiliated with the People and capable of vampiric navigation who are currently active in the city?”

Ghastek’s face registered distaste, as if he had smelled something unpleasant. He plainly didn’t want to answer the question. “Yes.”

“Please identify the individuals described.”

“Lynn Morriss.”

Oh wow. Spider Lynn was one the seven premier Masters of the Dead in Atlanta. All of the People’s Masters of the Dead branded their vampires. Lynn ’s brand was a small stylized spider. “When did she leave the People?”

“She withdrew her membership three days ago.”

According to Raphael, that was Alex Doulos’s date of death. It could be a coincidence, but I highly doubted it.

“She also purchased several vampires out of her stable,” Ghastek volunteered.

“How many can she pilot at once?” Raphael asked.

“Three,” Ghastek said. “Up to four on a good day. Her control becomes shaky after that.”

“Why did she leave?” I asked.

“She became disillusioned. We all seek to attain our goals. Some are willing to wait and others, like Lynn, lose their patience.”

“How would you describe her?”

Ghastek sighed. “Precise, ruthless, single-minded. She was neither liked nor disliked. She did her job well and required little attention.”

“What caused her to leave the People, in your opinion?”

“I don’t know. But it was deeply profound. One doesn’t walk away from fifteen years of hard work without a reason.”

I rose. “Thank you very much for your time.”

Ghastek nodded. “Thank you. When I made the agreement with Kate, I never imagined the restitution would be so easy. Let me see you out.” The vampire moved by the door. “A word of caution: if Lynn Morriss has decided to make her new home in the Scratches, I would advise you to stay away from it. Lynn is a formidable opponent.”

“Do the People plan to take any action against her?”

“No,” Ghastek said with a small smile. “There is no need.”

***

Outside I hopped into our vehicle, the taint of vampiric magic clinging to me like greasy smoke. “I feel soiled.”

“Like walking into a room after a day of work, falling into bed, and realizing the sheets are covered in cold K-Y jelly,” Raphael said.

I just stared at him.

“With a funky smell,” he added.

My Order conditioning failed me. “Ew.”

Raphael grinned.

“I’m not even going to ask if that’s happened to you.” I started the vehicle. “Has that happened to you?”

“Yes.”

Ew. “Where?”

“In the bouda house.”

Ew!

“I was really tired and you’ve seen that place: everything smells like sex…”

“I don’t want to know.” I peeled out of the parking lot.

“So where are we going?”

“To Spider Lynn’s house. We’re going to dig through her trash, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll do some breaking and entering.”

Raphael frowned. “Do you know where she lives?”

“Yes. I memorized the addresses of all the Masters of the Dead in the city. I have a lot of time on my hands.”

He squinted at me, looking remarkably like a gentleman pirate from my favorite romance novels. “What else do you store in your head?”

“This and that. I remember the first thing you ever said to me. You know, when you carried me from the cart into the tub so your mother could fix me.”

“I imagine it was something very romantic,” he said. “Something along the lines of ‘I’ve got you’ or ‘I won’t let you die.’”

“I was bleeding in the bathtub, trying to realign my bones, and my hyena glands voided from the pain. You said, ‘Don’t worry, we have an excellent filtration system.’”

The look on his face was priceless.

“That can’t be the first thing.”

“It was.”