Lost Soul (Harbinger P.I. Book 1) (7 page)

The woman was in her late twenties and pretty in a dark-eyed, dark-haired, sultry kind of way. She wore a dress of lace and black velvet that was probably modelled on something out of the Victorian era, and she carried a parasol that was made of black lace, fashioned into intricate, delicate patterns.

But it wasn’t her beauty or anachronistic dress sense that startled me; as my gaze met hers, I knew I was looking into the eyes of a witch.

When you’ve worked with the preternatural world for as long as I have, you tend to recognize other human beings who have had the same experiences. It’s like if two bodybuilders met at a party, they would instantly understand that they shared a common interest. In their case, of course, the huge muscles would be a dead giveaway. In the case of people who have experienced the other realms or magic, things that most human beings didn’t believe were real, the recognition was more subtle. It was at a subconscious level but it was there all the same.

So I knew that this woman was no stranger to magic and, judging by her dress, I concluded that she was a witch. At the same time, she knew that I was also familiar with the supernatural world and came to her own conclusion about me.

“Alec Harbinger,” she said as if she had known me all her life. “The preternatural investigator.”

I’d been startled before but now I was taken aback. How did she know who I was? “Did you read my mind?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Her long raven hair tumbled over her shoulders. “I read your advertisement. It was in the local newspaper.”

“Ah, of course. And you are?”

“Victoria Blackwell.” She offered a lace-gloved hand. “My sister Devon and I own Blackwell’s Books. You must come by sometime for tea. We have many books in our shop that might interest you.”

“Good to know,” I said, shaking her hand. “Maybe I’ll drop by sometime and take a look.”

“Yes, I’m sure we’ll see you soon.” She smiled and walked onto Main Street, turning left and heading down the street. I took a right turn toward my office but stopped before going inside. I watched Victoria Blackwell’s black-clad figure strolling along the sidewalk. Everyone in her vicinity gave her a wide berth and I guessed that even though those people didn’t believe in witchcraft beyond what they saw in movies or read in books, they instinctively sensed something “different” about the Blackwell sisters.

Victoria disappeared through the door of an antiquated-looking building that had a sign reading BLACKWELL’S BOOKS over the door. I wondered if I’d underestimated the amount of preternatural activity in Dearmont. Witches tended to stick to areas where there were places of natural magical power, so if there were two witches running the bookshop in town, there was probably more to Dearmont than met the eye.

I went inside and ascended the stairs to meet my new client.

I
got
to the top of the stairs and went into my office, walking past the bespectacled young man who was now sitting in a chair outside Felicity’s office and looking like he might throw up at any moment. His face was ashen, his eyes darting nervously behind the thick-rimmed glasses.

Felicity came into my office as I was settling into my seat behind the desk. She closed the door behind her.

“What’s with that guy out there?” I asked her. “He looks like he’s seen a ghost.”

“He’s seen a monster.” She handed me a cup of coffee. “His name is Timothy Ellsworth. He thinks he’s been bitten by a werewolf.”

“Werewolf? Why does he think that?”

She shrugged. “That’s all he would tell me.”

I sighed, hoping this was going to be a case that would fill our coffers and not just the ramblings of some guy who got bitten by a dog in the woods. “Okay, bring him in.”

Felicity opened the door and called him in.

Timothy Ellsworth came into the office and sat in the chair opposite me. The T-shirt he wore was an old Rush T-shirt and it looked too big for his scrawny frame, as if he had lost weight recently. “Timothy,” I said, “I’m Alec Harbinger. How can I help you?”

“I don’t know if you can,” he said. His voice was high-pitched, scared. “I’ve been bitten by a werewolf. Can you cure me? Can you lift the curse?”

“Do you know much about werewolves?”

He nodded, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I know some things.” He pushed the glasses back up to where they belonged.

“Okay, tell me what happened.” I sat back and gave him all the time he needed.

“This all happened three weeks ago,” he said. “I’ve been going crazy since then because nobody will believe it was a werewolf that bit me. Everyone said it must have been a dog or a raccoon or something, but I know what I saw. Then I saw that you were opening a preternatural investigation office here in town and I knew if anyone would believe me, it’d be you. You believe me, right?”

“You haven’t told me what happened yet,” I said patiently. Whatever had happened to Timothy, it was wreaking havoc on his nerves. I was willing to listen, but I would reserve judgement until I’d heard the whole story.

“But you must know about werewolves,” he said. “You know they exist, right? I’m not crazy.”

I could see he was going to need some guidance to tell his story. “Where were you bitten?” I asked him.

“Right here,” he said, lifting the Rush T-shirt to show me a nasty-looking wound along his ribs. It had been stitched and was covered with a dark brown scab. “See, that isn’t a raccoon bite, or a dog bite either.”

“It’s difficult to tell,” I said. “What did they say at the hospital when they stitched it up?”

“They just said it was some kind of animal. I had to have a course of rabies shots. But no shots can lift the werewolf curse.” He frowned and then asked hopefully, “Can they?”

“No, rabies shots can’t lift the curse of the werewolf,” I told him.

“So I still have it. I’m still cursed. When the moon is full….”

“Where did this happen?” I asked, guiding him again.

“In our back yard. We live out on Cowper’s Lane at the edge of town.”

“We?” I asked.

“Me and my mom.”

“Did she see what bit you?”

“No, she doesn’t get out of bed much. She’s ill. The doctors say it’s depression because my dad died a couple of years ago. She never got over that. I’m all she has now. I look after her.” His eyes widened in horror. “I can’t be a werewolf. What’ll happen to my mom?”

“Tell me how you got bit,” I said, bringing him back on course.

He nodded and took a moment to calm himself as best he could. “We were watching Family Feud on TV and we heard a noise in the backyard. It sounded like, I don’t know, like there was a dog out there or something like that. But it wasn’t a dog,” he added quickly.

“So you went out to investigate?”

“Yeah, but first I went down to the basement to get my dad’s shotgun. I thought that if it was some kind of animal, I could scare it away. We have a cat, Mr. Picard, and I didn’t want him to get eaten by something bigger than him. He’s been in fights before, mainly with other cats, and he doesn’t always win. He once had a fight with Marmalade—that’s Mrs. Green’s ginger cat from down the street—and….”

“You went outside with the shotgun,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, I went outside with the shotgun,” he said, getting back on track. “It was a quiet night and the noise in the yard had stopped by the time I got out there. I could hear Mr. Tobin’s dog, Belle, barking at the end of the street, but it sounded far away. The moon was full, of course, and the yard was lit by the moonlight, but I couldn’t see what had been making the noise. So I walked over to the woodpile and took a look behind it.” He swallowed. “And that’s when I saw it.”

He stopped and put his hand to his mouth, trying to hold back tears but failing. They ran down his gaunt cheeks and landed on the Rush T-shirt, making wet stains in the fabric. Whatever had happened to Timothy that night, it was painful for him to relive the memory.

“You’re safe now,” I told him. “Describe to us what you saw behind the woodpile.”

“It was horrible. A monster. It leaped out at me and sunk its teeth into my side.”

“Did you get a good look at it?”

He nodded. “It’s head was like a wolf but not exactly. It looked more … evil. Its eyes glowed like no wolf I’ve ever seen.”

“Did it move on two legs like a human?” I asked.

“Yeah, it did. When I fell backward and hit the ground, I fired the shotgun and that woke up the entire neighborhood. People started coming out of their houses and the werewolf got spooked, I guess, and ran away. It ran on two legs like a human being. But it wasn’t human; it was a monster. It disappeared into the trees behind the house. Mr. Ericsson from next door drove me to the hospital. I told him what I saw, but he said it was probably just a big dog that jumped out and surprised me and my mind filled in the rest because I watch too many horror movies.”

His story sounded genuine enough, but there was only one way to know without a shadow of doubt if he’d been bitten by a werewolf or not. I made a mental calculation about the phases of the moon. It had just passed its first quarter, which meant the next full moon would be six nights from tonight. I consulted my desk calendar. “The next full moon is on Monday. I can take you to a location far away from town and observe you. I’ll have to restrain you for your own safety.”

Timothy frowned. “Don’t you mean for your safety? If I turn into a werewolf, you’ll be the one in danger.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “If you turn into a werewolf and you aren’t restrained, I’ll have to kill you. If you’re in restraints, we’re good.”

“But what then? If I’m a werewolf, you’ll have to kill me anyway, won’t you?” He stumbled to his feet. “I need to leave. I thought you’d know how to lift the curse.” He reached for the door handle.

“Come back here if you want to live,” I told him.

He paused, his hand slowly retreating from the door. He turned to face me but said nothing.

“I can’t let you leave here, knowing that you might be a lycanthrope,” I said. “Sit down.”

His eyes darted from me to Felicity to the chair. Slowly, he came back to it and sat down. “Oh my God, you’re going to kill me,” he said. Tears welled in his eyes.

“Have you killed anyone while in werewolf form?” I asked him.

He shook his head. “No, I haven’t changed into werewolf form yet.”

“So why the hell would I kill you?”

Timothy shrugged.

“You can’t escape the curse,” I told him. “But I can help you manage it. Every full moon, my assistant or myself will collect you from your home and take you to a secure location where you’ll be locked away so you can’t hurt anyone. We’ll leave you at the location overnight and return in the morning to take you back home.”

“That’s it?” he asked. “That’s all I have to do?”

“There will be a fee involved, of course.”

He nodded enthusiastically, as if suddenly deciding that being a werewolf wasn’t so bad after all. “That’s not a problem. I have money.”

“If you go with my assistant to her office, she’ll fill out the necessary paperwork.”

He got up and shook my hand. His bony grip was weak but I knew that if he wolfed out, he’d have enough strength to rip a man’s heart out.

“Just one more thing,” I said. “Make sure you’re available on the days of the full moon. If I come to your house and you’re not there, I will have to hunt you down.”

“I understand,” he said. Felicity took him out of the office.

I went to the window and looked out over Main Street. My first day in Dearmont had turned out a hell of a lot different from how I had imagined it this morning. I had a faerie kidnapping case, a possible werewolf victim, and I’d been attacked by ogres. How many more surprises was this town going to throw at me before the day was over?

I checked my watch. It was after four. Maybe I should call it a day and go get some food for the barbecue and a couple of cases of beer. I needed to unwind for a while and then think about who had sent those ogre assassins to kill me and why.

Felicity came into the office. “Everything is sorted out with Timothy Ellsworth. He’s paid two months in advance.”

“Good. Providing security services to werewolves means a steady paycheck. I had half a dozen werewolf clients in Chicago. Every full moon, I locked them up in a warehouse by the river in Joliet. It’s easy money until one of them tries to take a bite out of you.”

“And what about the other werewolf? The one that bit Timothy? It’s still out there somewhere.”

I turned from the window to look at her. “Yeah, I’m going to have to deal with that.”

“How are you going to find it? Do you have to wait until it murders someone during the next full moon?”

“That’s one option, but it means dealing with the police, something I want to avoid. Also, it means someone has to get killed before we can pick up the werewolf’s trail. There’s an easier way to find out if someone in town is cursed.”

She raised a questioning eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“There are a couple of witches in town, the Blackwell sisters. They own the bookshop down the street. The werewolf curse is magical in origin, so the witches should be able to cast a locator spell that leads to the cursed person.”

“And when you find them, are you going to…?” She made a cutting motion across her throat.

“Not necessarily. If the cursed person has killed people while in werewolf form, then it’s my job to send him to doggy heaven, but if he hasn’t hurt anyone yet, I could offer him the same deal I offered Timothy. I was checking the local news reports earlier and there was nothing about dead bodies found after the full moon, so maybe this is a newly-turned werewolf whose only act of aggression so far was to bite Timothy.”

“Or it could be that the killings happened elsewhere and the werewolf has recently moved to this area.”

“Yeah, that’s a possibility too.”

“When are you going to see the witches?”

“Maybe tomorrow morning before we head off to the lake.”

Felicity’s dark eyes widened as if she was suddenly remembering something. “Should I see if I can rent one of those cabins for us to stay in?”

“Yeah, maybe you should. Get it for a few days if you can. There’s a time dilation between Faerie and our world. It depends which part of the faerie realm I end up in, but I could spend what I think are a few hours there and days could pass here.”

She nodded. “I’ll make sure to bring some provisions.”

“Speaking of provisions, let’s call it a day here and I’ll get some food for the barbecue.”

“All right,” she said, that pretty smile playing over her lips. “I’ll just finish up a few things and then I’ll head home.”

“Just come over whenever you’re ready,” I said. “I’ll have the barbecue all fired up.” I followed her out of the office and into the hallway. She went into her own office and began typing on her keyboard. “Where’s the nearest store?” I asked.

She gave me directions to a general store on Main Street and I left the office, deciding to walk there. It was still warm, but not uncomfortably so, and a stroll along Main Street, I thought, might give me a better feel for the town of Dearmont. My initial impression, that this was a preternatural dead zone, was obviously incorrect.

As I passed Blackwell Books, I peered in through the window to see Victoria Blackwell and a woman who was obviously her sister—same long, dark hair and similar black dress—serving customers among bookshelves that reached to the shop’s ceiling.

I wondered if I should go in and ask them about the werewolf locator spell but decided against it. That could wait. There were still six nights to the full moon. Besides, the bookshop was too busy at the moment for me to go in there and talk about a possible monster in town. It might be quieter in the morning, giving me a chance to talk to the witches without scaring the good folk of Dearmont in the process.

An hour later, I was driving on to my street with sacks of food and cases of beer in the back of the Land Rover and a growing hunger in my belly. As I got closer to the house, I saw a figure sitting on the front stoop. Squinting against the sun, I could make out long auburn hair, hazel eyes, and, beneath her white summer dress, a physique that was slim but radiated a sense of inner strength. When I realized who it was, I felt a grin crack my face. The same moment I recognized Mallory, she saw the Land Rover and stood up, waving.

I pulled on to the driveway and cut the engine. Mallory was waiting to greet me as I opened the door and got out. She jumped into my arms and kissed my cheek. The familiar feel of her body against mine was arousing but also rekindled memories of frustration.

“When did you get here?” I asked her.

“About a half hour ago. I was going to wait in my Jeep but it’s too damn hot so I thought I’d sit by your front door and give your neighbors something to look at.” She gestured to the houses on the street. “Is this place quiet or what? I never thought I’d see you outside of the Windy City.”