Croakies Monster, page 9
I realized a beat later that the demon must be a cop too.
Grym worked with a small group of Enchanted cops who knew about supernormals. It had never occurred to me that they might have magical forms themselves. I had no idea why I wouldn’t assume that. After all, I’d known that Grym had another form.
The snake suddenly swung around, its hostile slanted gaze finding me. The thing’s enormous head snapped upward in surprise. It didn’t stay that way for long. Before I could say blithering bat boogers, the enormous mouth opened and the arm-length fangs were snapping downward.
A dragonfly-sized form appeared in front of me, butterfly wings beating the air hard as the tiny sprite blew a mist bathed in green energy toward the snake’s eyes.
I screamed her name, certain she was about to become a small plate for the hungry snake, but Sebille held her ground, continuing to blow the mist from what I recognized as a tiny vape cigarette into the snake’s ugly face.
I watched in surprise as the monster stilled, its eyes turning glassy and its movements languid as it wobbled on its coil like a drunk.
“Naida!” I turned toward the busted front window. Rustin stood on the glass-covered sidewalk. “She’s about to let loose.”
I nodded. “Cover your ears,” I screamed to the police surrounding the snake. “Incoming Banshee scream.”
Sebille blew one last blast of mist toward the monster and then flew away, I backed toward the hallway and joined the sprite and several cops in the elevator just as the doors started to close.
With three inches of space between the closing doors, someone stuck a hand into the space to stop it.
Then the scream hit.
I slammed my hands over my ears. But I knew it wouldn’t be enough to completely stop the magic.
Blades of sound sliced through the room. Ripping the fragile flesh inside my ears to pulp.
Each bloated note swelled with unique power, cutting deep. The scream boiled inside my head, tearing holes in my brain like a thousand tiny needles. Unrelenting pressure made my skull feel like it would explode.
I was vaguely aware of screaming. I didn’t know if it was mine or one of the others inside the elevator with me. But my throat was raw so I was pretty sure my screams had joined the mix.
After a moment, the Banshee’s scream dulled to a deafening throb, booming, booming, booming until I was pretty sure my brain was mush.
As it had the last time I’d been too close to a Banshee’s scream, warm blood dripped from my nose and ears.
In the blink of an eye, the throbbing softened into a low, rhythmic hum and started to ease away. My mind felt numb. My body felt as if it had gained a hundred pounds. It was suddenly all I could do to blink. I tried to shift my legs, and it was like moving through quicksand. I had to fight to get even one hand to move.
But it did move. And, after a beat, so did my legs. I pulled air into my lungs and thanked the goddess I’d survived relatively unscathed.
Looking around the elevator, I met the gaze of the cop I’d spoken to when I’d arrived. He had blood running from his ears and nose but seemed otherwise unhurt. Sebille was crumpled on the floor in one corner, hands and wings covering her ears. I hurried over, touching her to see if she was awake. She groaned softly, her wings fluttering.
She was all right.
Not everyone had been so lucky. The cop who’d stopped the elevator doors was standing like a statue, half shifted into something that looked like it might be a wolf if it had shifted all the way. Charcoal gray fur covered bent legs with paws on the ends and painted his body up to about mid-chest. He was fully human from that point up, including having fur-free human arms and hands.
We pressed the button to open the doors and stepped around the frozen cop. I was relieved to see that the Naga had succumbed to the scream as he had before. Grym was talking quietly to one of his cops. The demon, I guessed, since the black skin and horns were gone, along with the wings, but the man’s eyes when they focused on me still held a feral red light.
The two humans were frozen in place, drying rivulets of blood painting their pale cheeks.
A young female cop bent over them, her fingers creating a golden web on the air and her lips moving in a quiet chant.
A witch.
I nodded toward the two men and the witch. “She’s spelling them to forget?”
The detective nodded, running a blocky hand over his rock-like face. “But we need to get this thing contained or we’re going to be spelling a lot more humans.”
“And burying a lot more,” the demon cop growled out in a gravelly voice.
I looked at Sebille, whose face was tight with pain. She was back to her human size. “Will Devard get control of this if we give him time?” I asked the sprite.
She nodded. “We can help him along with herbal mists and things, but yes.” She eyed the problem. “You’re thinking the shrinking box?”
We’d used it once before to contain a dangerous monster. “Yeah.” I lifted a hand and threw out my keeper magics, calling the box to me. When it came whistling through the broken front window, I caught it and handed it to Sebille. “You’ll do the honors?”
She nodded, a strange hesitation in her movements as she took the box.
“What is it?” I asked.
Rather than answer, she held the box up so I could look through the door. I peered inside, my gaze going wide. “Ah. That’s where you’ve been living all this time.” Sebille and I had tried to share my apartment when Devard had first thrown her out of hers but it had been a dismal failure. Then, one day, she’d just up and moved out. I’d never been able to see where she went at night when she was done working and she’d worked hard to make sure I couldn’t.
“I know it’s against the rules to live in an artifact, but it seemed like the perfect solution.”
And it had been. I thought about the problem for a moment. “Get your stuff out of there for now. We’ll work something out.”
She nodded, looking sad.
Finding Sebille better accommodations was a problem for another day. We couldn’t get into it at that moment.
Not when I finally had a thought as to what might be going on with the monsters.
11
Please call me Archibald
The spider was mostly gone by the time we got back to Croakies. It was little more than a gooey stain on the carpet.
My cat was draped over the windowsill of the big front window. He meowed when he saw me, his tail waving lazily below the sill, but he didn’t jump down to greet us. He was no doubt enthralled by all the comings and goings across the street.
What’s happening out there? The frog asked. I can’t see.
I looked down to find him squatting, green and squishy at my feet. His bulgy black gaze fixed on me with earnest curiosity. I scooped him up and placed him on the wide marble sill next to Wicked. “Just don’t hop off this windowsill,” I told him. “Let me know when you’re ready to get down.”
Slimy hopped over and wedged himself against Wicked’s warm body. My cat lowered his nose to gently nudge his green best friend in greeting. I smiled wearily. It had been an exhausting day and it was good to be home.
Unfortunately, there were at least a hundred songbirds in the bookstore, sitting in tidy rows at the top of the shelves, throats throbbing on a constant stream of song.
I looked at the hobgoblin, who stood near the spider with a grin on his face and that blithering birdbrain of a magical hand vac clutched in his spidery fingers. “I cleaned it up, Miss,” Hobs said, looking so pleased with himself I didn’t have it in me to scold him for all the birds.
“Well, at least you won’t need to buy birdseed any time soon,” Sebille offered.
I nodded. “They look pretty fat and happy up there.”
A pretty blue and yellow songbird fluttered down from the shelf and landed on Hobs’ head, breaking into a Spring-worthy melody that inspired the others to redouble their efforts. The entire store throbbed in a chorus of happy bird ballads.
Sebille groaned. “All this sap-happiness is giving me a headache. I’m going to go put this stuff away.” She headed toward the dividing door with her magically miniaturized possessions in a small box, her feet dragging with unhappiness.
Hobs took off running after her, slamming the dividing door behind him.
I was so distracted by the birds that it took me a minute to realize what she’d said. Sebille was going to put all her stuff in my apartment again.
Horror slicing a track through my belly, I started after her. There had to be another solution to her housing issue.
There just had to be.
I couldn’t stand even one night of falling over her unending collection of furniture, losing out to her on the TV remote, or listening to her whistling snore all night long while sleep evaded me.
Unfortunately, before I could stop her, my cell phone rang. I looked down to a number that was becoming all too familiar. I really gave some thought to not answering. But something inside wouldn’t let me do it.
Apparently, I was one of those people who’d stand, riveted, as two trains headed right at each other at breakneck speed.
“Croakies Bookstore.”
“Ms. Griffith. How are you? Did you receive my package yet?”
His question was the final straw on my woefully overburdened camel’s back. It was the electrical shock on my last, panting nerve. The final shoe dropping. The last ballad in my much-panned musical. The… Okay, you get it. It was just all I could take. “Mr. Pudsnecker…”
“Please, now that we’re becoming friends, call me Archibald.”
I’d rather call an Uber Eats and eat egg rolls in bed, under the covers, with my latest paranormal romance clutched in my greasy fingers. “Arch-i-bald,” I stuttered out. “I’m in the middle of a bit of a crisis. I haven’t even had time to eat. Why don’t I give you a call when things calm down, and we can talk about you maybe doing a book signing here at Croakies…” I hoped he’d snatch at that little dangling carrot and agree to back off for a bit.
The exterior door opened, setting off the soft jangle of the warning bell hanging from the top. The man standing there had a cell phone to his ear and a happy light in his blue eyes.
He smiled, pointed to the phone at his ear, and said, “Too late. I’m already here.”
Shock had me going perfectly still, the cell pressed against my ear.
Pudsnecker stepped all the way into the shop and hit End on his call to me, sliding his phone into the pocket of his tweed coat.
His gaze slid around the store, brightening when he spotted the birds and narrowing at the gooey remains of the spider monster. “Looks like you’ve had some sort of industrial accident,” he said in his precise, English tones. Despite the cultured tone in his voice, there was humor throbbing in his voice.
I was surprised by that. I would have expected horror or disgust. The spider remains were pretty disgusting.
I gave a breathy chuckle. “Yeah. Ha.”
Pudsnecker jerked his head, covered in soft brown curls that ran to gray at his temples, toward the mess of police cars across the street. “What’s happening over there?”
Nothing much. Just an ancient snake monster attack that was thwarted by a demon, a gargoyle, and a banshee’s scream.
That sounded like a bad joke. A demon, a gargoyle and a banshee walk into a bar…
“Robbery, I think…” I hated to lie, but I couldn’t very well tell the human standing before me the truth.
He pursed his lips, nodding. “I wasn’t aware that Naga were thieves.” He laughed. “For that matter, I didn’t realize they vaped.”
I went perfectly still. Pulling a tendril of my keeper magics forward, I sent it his way to cover his tall, slender form in silver mist.
He frowned as if recognizing what I was doing. Though, the only way he’d be able to see my energies was if he…
“I’ll save you the trouble of trying to read my aura,” Pudsnecker said. “I’m a sorcerer, just as you are. And I’m not here for a book signing, though, if we survive what’s coming, I’ll be happy to do a signing if that will help your little bookstore sell some books.”
The “little bookstore” thing rankled as it always did. “Croakies is doing just fine, Mr. Pudsnecker. I just assumed you’d contacted me to sell your books. That was the first thing you spoke about when you called me.”
His eyes widened, and he seemed to have an “ah-ha” moment. He nodded, folding his well-manicured hands together behind his back. “Yes. I could see why that would be confusing. I’ll admit I was indulging in a bit of subterfuge with you. Very well, let’s start over, shall we?” He offered me his hand. “Let me introduce myself to you. I’m Archibald Pudsnecker, chief researcher for the Société of Dire Magic.” He must have seen me flinch because he held up his hands, palms out in a defensive gesture. “I don’t come to you with the power of the Société behind me, I assure you. I come as a friend. Or…” He grinned and his smile seemed somehow familiar. A vision of laughing blue eyes and a matching smile skated across my memory and was gone in the beat of a heart. I shook it off.
“At least I hope to be friends someday soon,” he finished.
I shook my head. “I’m confused. You and I have never met before, right?”
His hesitation was brief enough that I thought I might have imagined it. “That is correct.”
“But you come to me, a complete stranger and announce you’d like to be friends?”
He cocked his head back and forth as if he didn’t quite agree with my statement. I couldn’t imagine what part he might disagree with. “It’s not quite that simple, but yes, essentially. I’m actually here because I’m aware of a certain faction within the Société, which means you ill. I’d like to help you with that.”
Weariness and frustration shortened my temper. I knew I was being unreasonable, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. “I don’t need your help with Rogers.”
His eyes widened slightly as if he was surprised I knew who he was referring to.
“I’ve handled him before, and I’ll handle him again.”
Pudsnecker shook his head. “You don’t understand…”
“I understand perfectly well, Arch-i-bald,” I said, my tone derisive. “I’m not as stupid or as helpless as you seem to think I am.” Only almost as stupid and helpless. I did an internal sigh. I really needed to rein myself in. I certainly didn’t need any more enemies at the Société. “Look, I’m sorry. I know I’m being a witch with a B, as my friend LA says.”
He smiled as I’d hoped he would.
“It’s just that things are even crazier here than usual and I’m…” I hesitated, trying to decide exactly what I was. Overwhelmed? Frustrated? Feeling inadequate?
“Tired,” Archibald finished for me.
I realized he was right. “Yes. I’m tired. And right at this moment, I’m hangry too. I don’t do hangry well, I’m afraid.”
Pudsnecker laughed. “You’re just like your…” He stopped, flushing red. “…friend Sebille in that.”
That forced a laugh from me. “Hangry hobgoblins! If you’re comparing my personality to Sebille’s, I’m in deep trouble. Cranky is a day at the beach for her. She usually lives in mean and crotchety land.”
He chuckled. “Not at all. You are definitely your own form of hangry.”
We shared a smile, and something deep inside me relaxed.
“I’ll tell you what,” Pudsnecker said. “I’ll buy dinner and you and I can talk while we eat. I think you might want to include your friend Sebille in the conversation too. She’s going to be needed to fix the problem.”
My concentration was sidelined by delighted thoughts of egg rolls and sundry other delicious things. I had to jerk myself back to attention. “Problem?” I asked. “You mean Rogers?” I shook my head. “I really do know how to handle him. I appreciate you trying to help but he’s not…”
Archibald held up a hand. “Not that problem. I have no doubt you can handle that little weasel. But the problem I’m speaking of is big enough to draw the council heads at the Société’s interest. And I can assure you, if that happens, they’ll align against you and your friends. All of them.”
I read from his stern expression that he was telling me everyone I cared about would be punished. Sebille, Lea, Grym, maybe even Theo. And if the Société put me out of business, it would also affect Hobs, Wicked, and Slimy. I couldn’t let that happen. But I needed more information. “Exactly what problem are you referring to?”
He raised dark brown eyebrows, his expression filled with surprise. “After the Naga incident, you still don’t realize you have a problem?”
“The monsters?”
When he nodded, I expelled a breath. “I think I have an idea how to stop that. I just need a few quiet moments to think.” The artifact had to be at Croakies. And I was guessing it was a book. I just didn’t know how to find it short of touching every single artifact in the place.
Tens of thousands of artifacts.
We didn’t have that kind of time.
I kept my comment as neutral as possible so as not to give offense. Pudsnecker was definitely keeping me from my quiet time.
Rather than look insulted, he sighed as if relieved. “Then, you’ve figured it out?”
“I believe I have, yes.”
“Oh, thank the goddess. Do you know how to fix it?”
“Not yet, but I’m confident I’ll come up with something once I…”
“Yes, yes, have time all by yourself. Naida, dear, I know you’re used to working alone. Or at the very least with a very small group of people you trust. I’m asking to be added to that group. At least for this moment in time. Because I believe I can tell you how to fix this particular problem.”
He was right. I was used to working alone. I’d been that way since I reached my teens and realized nobody else was willing to help. That I’d managed to get as far as I had in life was both my biggest success and my most obvious failure. I’d grown far too used to working alone. Even while slowly gathering people around me who were willing to help.
