Chapter Ten
Cadmus stifled a groan as he entered into the store to pick up his ritual supplies. Today’s musical selection featured an ethereal woman’s voice, floating over waves of synthesized sounds. It was acceptable, and much preferable to the New Age pee-inducing soundtrack that had been playing the day before. Shame the lavender draperies and dreamcatchers were still in evidence, but as long as Cadmus could escape hearing “costumed cats” and “tarot” in the same sentence one more time, there would be one less homicide happening in the next 60 minutes.
He was already cranky, still out of sorts with themagickalequivalent of jet lag or altitude sickness—whatever it was — still plaguing him, one week in. It irked him that he was still acclimating, and unable to predict how long it would take to get over this.
It wasn’t like this the last time he was here, although granted he was younger, much more vibrant then. And even though hismagickshad kept him in superb physical health, slowing down the aging that afflicted mere mortals, he feared that Micah’s continual digs at his impending obsolescence might be more on target than he cared to admit. He worried that the adverse effects of the energy vortex on him was a sign of that.
Hopefully finding that man-wolf would insulate against a forced retirement.
Resting Witch Face wasn’t in, and he wasn’t about to ask where she was. Instead, a bored millennial with purple hair and facial piercings sat at the counter, behind a sign saying “We hex shoplifters” and a plexiglass holder with the CD jewel case of Love is Colder Than Death, identifying the artist playing. He —or she, it was getting increasingly hard to tell these days—was reading a dogeared paperback titledMonsters, Magic & Mayhemby John G. Hartness. It had to be fiction, since Cadmus didn’t recognize anymagickalscholars by that name, and he had read them all.
“I’m here to pick up—”
“Here.” The millennial handed him a small purple foil shopping bag without looking up from the book. Cadmus snatched it away from the genderless person and broke apart the frilly silver bow that tied the handles closed.
Inside was more frippery, a package wrapped up in frilly tissue paper and a card advertising Resting Witch Face’s Soulmate Finder Readings. He hurled the card onto the floor as the millennial turned a page in the book she-he-it was engrossed in.
At last. Cadmus uncovered the ingredients he had asked for, breathing in their fragrance. Yes, they were all there. At least Resting Witch Face gotthatright. As well as the idea to use the root cellar of his rental house. He left the store hurriedly, hoping that the bells on the door jangled noisily enough to give that millennial a seizure.
His next stop would be a store where he could buy the necessary furnishings for his root cellar. Since he had determined that it was suitable for ritual work, there was no reason not to make it as comfortable as possible. Unlike the abandoned mine shaft that was last used—
Oh,shit!
Cadmus stopped short on the street, earning an expletive from the woman who barely avoided running into him. She flashed a middle finger at him, which Cadmus ignored as the thoughts swirled in his head.
He couldn’t remember Billy Bob picking up the tranq dart cartridges after the man-wolf was shot. Cadmus had had the presence of mind to do a blanking spell once the creature escaped, but it was rudimentary at best, with the few ingredients he had brought. And even worse, with the strange affliction on his senses, it was unpredictable how long or how far the effects of that spell were.
But he did know it would not get rid of physical objects such as the cartridges. And if the man-wolf were to look for them…
All right. He’d have to go back, or send Billy Bob to retrieve them. And he may as well kill two birds with one stone, and pick up another offering or two for His Terrible Majesty in the meantime. He pulled the mobile phone from his pocket —the latest model that Micah had insisted they all use—and used it for the only feature he cared about.
He called Billy Bob.
“We going hunting, Boss?” The idiot’s voice came through crystal clear.
Cadmus gave Billy Bob his instructions. He enunciated every word, and then repeated them for good measure.
When he was finally satisfied that the brain-damaged moron understood what was being asked, he hung up. And then he went in search of sharp implements and stainless steel furniture. Aside from the aesthetics of sleek minimalism, the polished metal surfaces would make it easy to clean off viscera and blood.
* * *
Col’s eyes gravitated to the shiny metal surface of the stainless steel table in the center of the small room. Miller and Col were waiting in one of the exam units at a veterinarian’s office, seated on a small window bench where no doubt anxious parents watched their furry children being examined, on that very large polished metal surface that held Col’s gaze. Simon had called ahead, so they were spared sitting in the waiting room, making awkward conversation with people who brought in their ailing pets. Here it was private, and would allow them to talk freely.
Simon’s veterinarian friend, an affable bearded redhead named Dr. Chuck, also known as “Crax the Destroyer” by his fellow gamers, came in with the results from the small lab on the premises.
“You were right, the substance in the darts is a tranquilizer —mostly,” Dr. Chuck said. He had the same habit as Simon’s in constantly pushing his glasses up with one hand, although his tight curly hair didn’t flop over his forehead.
“Mostly?” Miller looked at Col.
“It’s been doctored with something that I can’t easily identify. It’s not anything I’ve seen before. Under a microscope, you can tell from the dart tips that they hit something. Do you have any idea what kind of animal this sedative was used on?”
Miller shook his head. “Negative. We found this in the woods near a road used by runners and hikers.”
“Hmm,” Dr. Chuck’s brow furrowed. “The dartdid manage to penetrate something with force and discharge most of its contents, so it’s not like the sedative spilled or leaked out. But just based on the small sample I was able to find, the formulation’s been altered to make it stronger than what you’d typically expect.”
“Thank you, Doctor Destroyer,” Col said, and Simon’s friend laughed.
“Maybe I can get Simon to start calling me that. Speaking of which, any idea when he’s planning to get together Thursday nights again? He hasn’t been here the last couple weeks.”
