Beneath the Mall of Madness (A Jaspar Windisle Mystery Book 1) (26 page)

I found myself being dragged up the stairs, and up another set of stairs onto the second floor. There were walls here, and it was much tidier. He led me into a formal dining room, and I found myself sitting at the head of the table with a plate of cold pizza and a glass of flat soda, with the familiar named Legion staring at me from the other side of the room.

“Thanks for the meal,” I said, at a loss for any other words.

“I don’t know what you are,” he said, “which is odd. I’m well studied on various kinds of supernatural entity. I was a wizard’s familiar after all.”

How nice to know I’d stumped an expert. At least he told me that before I got my hopes up. I’ve always wanted to know what I really am, and where I came from. I make occasional visits back to the Trenton family mausoleum in the hope of finding answers. It’s one of the reasons I gave fishing a second try. Maybe Legion wasn’t as much of an expert as he thought.

“I’ve never had a problem passing for human,” I told him.

“Of course not,” he said dismissively. “If I wore a hat and kept my tail under control so would I. Or any of dozens of humanoid creatures. Bees and ants don’t notice the disguised intruders in their midst either. There’s still a vast difference between an ant and a spider pretending to be an ant.”

“Hmm.” I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I changed the subject.

“What happened to Noah Whateley?” Hey, I didn’t say I changed it to a safe subject.

“He was murdered,” Legion said, “or should I say executed?”

“Executed?” I repeated. Legion leaned on the table.

“He was an evil wizard,” he explained. “A very
ancient
evil wizard. He founded this town, performed some experiments, and left for a century or so. He said that once his experiment had reached its final stage he wouldn’t need me anymore. Naturally his experimental subjects weren’t terribly thrilled when they discovered his plans for them, and despite his great power he lacked the foresight to see that the same aura that allowed his homunculi to grow and reproduce would also give them the power to resist him.” Legion paused to stuff an entire piece of pizza in his mouth. “Personally I think his real blunder was not taking into account the sort of temperament it takes for a mundane person to travel across the world and make a new life for themselves. The descendants of such people aren’t going to give up their bodies on someone else’s say-so. He’d hatched his plan in a European town that’s barely entered the sixteenth century, let alone the twenty-first. The people living
there
wouldn’t notice if their neighbors were replaced with look-alikes.”

“Are you suggesting that the Whateleys all look alike because they’re clones?” I asked.

“Something like that,” he said.

“No wonder they don’t like cultists,” I said. And no wonder he’d said all Whateleys were the same to him. “Do they know that?”

“That would be why they killed my master,” Legion said. “Sadly for me, since they
are
copies, as long as they’re alive all of his spells are still in working order, so the protections he placed on this house to keep me in are still in effect. If they weren’t I imagine, his clones would have tried to kill me as well.”

“Why was Obadiah an exception?” I asked him.

“Obadiah got along with everyone,” Legion said. “Even evil wizards. They struck up a friendship, and Noah Whateley put protection spells on his house in exchange for keeping an eye on me while he was off pursuing other interests. So I made friends with Obadiah myself.” His one visible eye gleamed. “I told Obadiah all about my master’s plans to take over the bodies of his descendants. He wouldn’t let me out of this house afterwards, but I don’t have to obey anyone’s orders now.”

“That’s good for you,” I said. “If you don’t mind me asking, who’s keeping you in pizza and soda now?”

“He still is,” Legion said. “He left me some things in his will. Now that I’ve retrieved them I’m set for as long as I’m stuck in here.”

“His things? You’re the one who broke into Cecilia and Steve’s places, aren’t you?”

“I only broke into the store,” he said. “I couldn’t break into the wizard’s place if I wanted to. That bitch ignored Obadiah’s will and sold things that are rightfully mine, so I took them back.”

“Like his jackets?” I asked. Legion nodded. He was suddenly standing next to me. I couldn’t get used to how quickly he moved.

“You may keep that one,” he said. “I don’t need it.”

“But you do need the red one?” He smiled. His teeth were sharp like a shark’s.

“I like red,” he said. “Perhaps I can let you have the purple one.”

“That’s okay,” I said, “black is enough for me.”

“If you’re sure,” he said. He frowned at me. “You’re so pale it washes you out. I doubt purple would be any better.” He was back at the opposite end of the room. “I have the ones that created coins and gems, and I have contacts who are accustomed to making unconventional currency exchanges with few questions asked. Should you find the method of activation, your coat produces candy coins.” I raised my eyebrows.

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Seriously,” he confirmed.

“What kind of frivolous spell is that?”

“I found it delightful,” Legion said. “How long can you stay, by the way?”

“Another half hour,” I said after checking my watch. “I’m expecting company.”

“Are you moving in next door?”

“No, I’m just cleaning out some of Obadiah’s stuff. Do you want any more of it? He has a lot of blankets.”

“No,” Legion said. “I am quite comfortable.” He was beside me again. “Who are you expecting a visit from?”

“The woman whose store you broke into.”

“Hmm.” He sat on the table. “If you vanish she won’t let it go,” he said. “I met her before, and she’s stubborn.”

“That’s right.”

“Promise me you’ll visit again and I’ll let you leave.”

“Of course,” I said. His tail wrapped gently around my neck.

“Don’t just say it to get out of here,” he warned me. “I can leave here if I want to badly enough.” I breathed shallowly.

“I’ll come back,” I promised. “I’ll even bring food if there’s something you like better than cold pizza.” The tail withdrew, to my great relief. He seemed to be thinking.

“A cheeseburger,” he said, “and fried potatoes, either chips or fries will do.”

Now that he’d got me to promise to come back he seemed to be in a hurry to get rid of me. I found myself escorted back to the basement and into the tunnel.

“Don’t forget that you promised,” he said as I closed the door.

“I won’t,” I said. I hesitated before barring the door. If he could come after me, I didn’t want to insult him. I decided to go ahead and bring the bar down on the grounds that Obadiah had, and it hadn’t done him any harm.

I was at the base of the ramp when I recovered from whatever madness had prompted this little adventure. I was suddenly very aware that I was in a tunnel, underground, and that no one I trusted knew where I was. My mouth went dry, and the walls seemed to swim around me. There was a slight bend in the tunnel, and I couldn’t see the stairs on the other side. What if it wasn’t open anymore? What if there were cultists there? I turned and went back to the door.

Legion was understandably surprised to see me again so soon.

“I can’t go through the tunnel again by myself,” I told him. “May I use your front door?” He looked surprised and delighted.

“You have a weakness!” He said. “Does this mean you have a superpower too?”

“I see dead people,” I told him, sitting on his living room floor. I felt better in the open room, but it was still dark and enclosed. “Do you have to cover your windows?”

“I suppose not,” he said. “Noah did it. People have been sniffing around here lately, so I haven’t taken them off.”

“People like Whateleys, or cultists?” I asked. It would be just my luck if he was involved with Dr. Finch.

“They didn’t smell like Whateleys,” he said.

“You have a phone right?” He nodded. “A landline?” he nodded again. “May I use it?” He nodded a third time.

“As long as it’s a local call. I don’t have long distance.”

“It is.”

“Are you going to call the witch woman?” He asked.

“Yes. If there are cultists around, I want a ride out of here.”

Cecilia was still at Fiona’s. Neither of them was happy to hear of my little adventure.

“What were you thinking?” Cecilia scolded me. “You’ve been doing so well! You’re lucky there wasn’t a devil or something at the end of that tunnel!” I may have neglected to mention meeting Legion. “I’ll come get you. When I drive up, come straight out and get into the van.”

“She’s bossy, isn’t she?” Legion said.

“You’ve met her?”

“Noah took me to her shop a few times. They talked about herbs. If you’re going out the front door, you’ll have to help me get it open. When I was chased in here, it was nailed shut from the other side.”

Not by anyone who knew what they were doing with a hammer, fortunately. Between the two of us and with the aid of a crowbar we were able to get it open before Cecilia arrived. I was cursing and examining the cuts on my hands from pulling out nails and missed Legion slipping away into the back of the house.

“Don’t forget to come back,” he said from upstairs. “But don’t bring that bossy witch with you.”

Cecilia scolded me some more when I got into the van. She reminded me that no one would have known where to look for me if I’d been trapped. It was clear she thought the house was abandoned. I wondered if Fiona was equally ignorant of her other neighbor. I could see his lights from Obadiah’s house, but the cliff curved outward. They might be hidden from her. The short drive kept Cecilia’s lecture brief. We piled the magazines into her van. As we worked, I thought I heard strange noises coming from the basement. I was getting used to the sound of the machine, but this sounded like chanting. I went to the hatch and listened. It was Dr. Cassidy’s voice, overlapping with a lower, male voice. There was something structured and familiar about what she was saying. Finally, I placed the chanting and relaxed. She was reading logic problems out loud. The other voice was just her machine. I swung one of the hatches open, letting it slam into the ground so she would know I was there. The chanting stopped, and her voice drifted up to me.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me.”

I told her I was leaving. She followed us to the driveway and waved as we left.

“I’ll have my machine completed soon,” she said, “I think you’ll be impressed with the new version.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” I told her.

The hotel parking lot was full when we got there. There were some cars I recognized, but most of them were new. Cecilia stopped her van by the side of the road, and I did likewise.

“What do you think?” She asked. “More cultists or the men in black?”

“It could be tourists,” I suggested. “You’ve been expecting more ever since that video went on the internet.”

“True,” she agreed. “But all at the same time?”

“Maybe they’re having a convention.”

“I don’t think so.” As we were talking, a man got out of one of the cars.

“I recognize him,” I said to Cecilia. “He cornered me at the sports store. He said chupacabras had killed his brother.” Cecilia squinted.

“I don’t know him,” she said, “Not that that means anything. Most of the construction crew wasn’t from around here. He’s sure acting suspiciously.”

“Do you think so?”

“He must have been sitting in his car for a while if we didn’t see him pull in, and he looks like he’s hiding something.” We continued to watch as he made his way into the hotel.

“Why’d he corner you?” she asked. I told her about his search for someone to blame. Her eyes widened.

“His brother was eaten by chupacabras and he doesn’t blame . . . the chupacabras?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said. “
I
don’t understand it.” I sort of did. If he wanted to fight someone, it would be a lot easier to win a fight with me than a radish monster. Besides, they were gone now. Probably.

“The day’s not getting any younger and no one’s coming out,” I said finally. “Let’s go in and see what’s going on.”

“If you really think so,” Cecilia began. She was interrupted by a scream from inside the hotel. I started towards the hotel. Cecilia grabbed my arm.

“Wait,” she said. The door of the hotel was flung open, and the man came back out in a rush. He didn’t make it to the sidewalk. A tentacle shot out of the hotel and wrapped around his waist. He screamed again and was yanked back into the hotel.

We looked at each other.

“Maybe before we go in we should call the front desk,” I said, “and ask them if that really just happened.”

“But then they’ll know we’re on to them,” she said reasonably. “I know! Let’s go to my place. I’m a witch, remember? We can spy on them with magic.” I didn’t know how witchcraft would help in this situation, but I agreed. Before we went inside, I called Steve.

“What’s up?” he asked. “Is there a problem with the house?”

“No, we saw something suspicious at the hotel, so Cecilia’s going to spy on the front desk with witchcraft.”

“Okay . . . mind if I come and watch?”

I asked Cecilia.

“Go right ahead.”

I unloaded the magazines from her car while Cecilia redid her hair and changed clothes as we waited for Steve to arrive.

“Is that necessary?” I asked her.

“Of course,” she said, “it’s important to be in the appropriate state of mind when doing witchcraft.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Steve showed up looking excited.

“No one’s answering the phones at the hotel or the bar,” he said.

“Let’s find out why,” Cecilia said. I thought it had something to do with the tentacle monster, myself. She sat us down at her kitchen table. She poured a line of salt out onto the tablecloth in a rough circle, then placed a blue mixing bowl in the middle of the circle. She filled the bowl with water and added hot chocolate mix. It clumped on the surface, and she stirred it until the center was clear.

“It’s a packet I took from the hotel,” she explained. “It makes focusing easier.” When the water settled, it revealed an image of the hotel lobby.

“Looks like it
was
the men in black,” I said.

“It’s like a small army,” Steve said. “Are the Whateleys drug runners or something?”

“No!” Cecilia said. The picture changed. Mr. and Mrs. Whateley were being interrogated. Men wearing gloves and face masks were exploring the hotel. Zebulon was also being questioned. My old room was being ransacked.

“Do you think it’s the FBI?” I asked. “We didn’t really answer any of their questions yesterday.”

“I did make a scene when the giant squid appeared,” Steve admitted. “I would have thought they’d be more focused on that than anything that happened at the hotel. I haven’t heard a word about them wanting access to the construction site today.”

“It was probably a mistake to rent to those to agents,” Cecilia said. “They must have seen one too many strange things and called in reinforcements.” I think she meant the goldfish, but I was thinking of the trophy room.

“The Whateleys will be all right then, won’t they?” I said. “It doesn’t look like they’ve noticed the goldfish, and there’s nothing else weird in the hotel, is there?”

“What about your necromancer gear?” Steve asked.

“I keep it with me at all times,” I said. “It’s mostly natural ability, anyway.”

“If they’re interrogating people in the hotel they might want to question you,” Cecilia told me. “My spells are only on the police station.”

I stared at the image. That was a lot of FBI agents.

“Should I get it over with or should I go into hiding?” I wondered.

“Hide,” Steve said. “Sure, it’ll look bad, but do you really want to end up in Gitmo?”

“What?” Cecilia said. She sounded shocked.

“You may not have noticed, but Jaspar isn’t exactly human. That’s the kind of loophole Homeland Security’s been exploiting for years.” I winced.

“You don’t have to say it out loud,” I told him. “At least one of those men isn’t human either.”

“That changes things,” Cecilia said. “Hmmm. I could cast a ‘don’t notice me’ spell on you, but you wouldn’t be able to check out of the hotel. And you’d almost certainly get in a traffic accident.”

“Maybe I can get you a new identity,” Steve offered. “I know some people who do good work on short notice.”

“I don’t want to give up my life!” I protested. “I’ve got things going well for once and my job depends on my reputation, which I’ll lose if I change my name. Besides, we can’t hear what they’re saying. Maybe they aren’t interested in me. I can spend the night somewhere else, and get my stuff when they leave.”

“I don’t think you understand -” Steve began.

Whatever I didn’t understand was interrupted by a knock at the back door.

“FBI, open up!” Someone whispered on the other side. Cecilia looked out the windows in alarm.

“Hide!” She told me. She shoved me into her linen closet and shut the door. There was barely enough room for me between the shelves and the door. There was no way I was staying in there, even for a second. When I tried to open the door, I found that thanks to the shelves my hands were trapped below my waist. I was stuck in here until the door was opened from the outside. I tried not to scream, and I was beyond relieved when the door opened again almost immediately.

“False alarm,” Cecilia said.

Agent Starr and Agent Steiner were standing in the kitchen.

“Never, ever do that again,” I told Cecilia. I focused on getting my breathing back to normal and my heart rate down. I hate enclosed spaces.

“Sorry, I panicked.”

“Well, don’t.”

“I’m glad to see you guys,” Agent Steiner said. I guess Steve had left the room, too.

“Those aren’t FBI agents,” Agent Starr said after glancing into the mixing bowl. “Or at least some of them aren’t.” He did a double take. “Is this a magic bowl?”

“How do you know?” Steve asked, ignoring the agent’s question.

“One of them is dead,” Agent Starr said. “I went to his funeral over a year ago, and unlike some people around here he didn’t have an endless supply of identical relatives.”

“Could it be Dr. Finch?” I asked.

“I hope not,” Agent Starr said. “That thing was immune to bullets.”

“Are you sure? No one’s seen it since you shot it.”

“I was watching,” Agent Steiner said. “Believe me; it didn’t act like it had been injured.”

“Okay, so they’re fakes,” Cecilia said, concentrating on the important thing. “What brings you to my house?”

“They sent us to arrest Earl,” Agent Steiner said. “One of them said he was at the witch’s house, and you’re the only witch we’ve met.”

Cecilia groaned. “That kind of sexism is so obnoxious, even if it is coming from doppelgangers. All female magic users are not witches!” Agents Steiner and Starr looked at each other.

“So . . . whose house were we supposed to go to?”

“Why should we tell you?” I asked. “Considering everything that’s happened, I can’t imagine anything good happening to Earl if he’s taken away by the cultists.”

“Neither can I,” Steve said.

“We weren’t really going to arrest him,” Agent Starr said. “That’s why we came to the back of the house. We need him to help us.”

“They’ve got hostages,” Agent Steiner continued. “At this rate, any SWAT team we called would turn out to be zombies or leprechauns or something.”

“Plus, Earl’s had experience with this sort of thing,” Agent Starr said. “Have you seen his rap sheet?”

“I’m telling you; you’ve got him confused with someone else,” Agent Steiner said. “He can’t be that old.”

“I’ll call the female
wizard
and ask her what she thinks,” Cecilia said.

Earl was indeed with Fiona. He seemed amenable to sorting out the fake FBI agents.

“But let’s wait,” he said. “Give it until nightfall. If they aren’t human, they might not recognize the Whateley's value as hostages.”

“And if they are?” I asked. “Don’t forget, this is the same cult that’s been murdering people in the marsh at night. We can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“You’re right.” Earl was quiet for a moment. “They’re at the police station too so we can’t get any weapons from there, and there are too many for what we’ve got with us. Zebulon stores most of his collection at the hotel, so we have to assume that if they weren’t well-armed before they are now.”

“So what are we going to do?” Cecilia asked.

“They’re studying all the supernatural phenomenon right?” Earl said. “So we’ll lure them out with some supernatural phenomenon, and pick them off one by one.”

“Where are we going to get supernatural phenomenon on short notice?” Agent Starr asked.

“Fiona and I spent the morning rounding up all the portal penguins we could find. We were going to send them back to whence they came, but we can use them as a diversion instead. We’ll release the whole truckload of them in the hotel parking lot.”

While we waited, I went back to the Fry house along with Steve, to let Dr. Cassidy know what was going on. Steve didn’t care about what the doctor was doing and didn’t want either of us to go at first. Cecilia insisted that he go with me, since I clearly couldn’t look after myself. It stung; I’ll admit.

The chanting was louder than it had been a few hours ago. The male voice was stronger. Steve and I stood at the entrance to the storm cellar and stared at each other.

“I’m not armed,” I said. “How about you?”

“I have a few wizard tricks prepared,” he said. “I’d intended to use them at the hotel. This seems more urgent.”

“Yes,” I said. “Do you want to go first?”

He shook his head.

“You’d better. She’s interested in you. In cases of possession that can give you an advantage. If nothing else, the possessor might stay calm to try to trick you.” I took a deep breath and descended into the cellar.

Just like last time, Cassandra stopped chanting when she became aware of me. Something in my coat started wriggling. Both Sparks and my amber moths were reacting to something in the room in a negative fashion.

“Back so soon?” Cassandra asked, as if she hadn’t just been reciting logic problems like an evil philosophical spell.

“There’s trouble at the hotel,” I said. “I know you said the logic problems helped you relax, but this isn’t what I’d call relaxing.” She pouted.

“It works for me,” she said. “This book you gave me is amazing though. I think it holds the key to making my machine work.”

I doubted that. Or if it did, the machine would do whatever the logic ghost wanted it to.

“Do you always recite logic problems aloud when you’re working them out?” I asked.

“No,” she said. She was staring at me appraisingly. “It seemed right for these.” She drifted closer to me. Her voice lowered. “You’ve been somewhere you shouldn’t have, haven’t you, Mr. Windisle?”

“No,” I said. It wasn’t a lie, technically. Legion hadn’t been upset by my breaking in, so it was okay retroactively. That was the story I was sticking to, anyway.

“Yes you have,” she said. That deeper voice was back again. I tried not to freak out. “Such a shame. I thought you were so proper it wouldn’t matter that you had Obadiah’s favorite coat. I’m rarely wrong, you know.” She was close enough to touch me, and I knew what was going on.