Author: Jake Bible
Date: 2018-04-13 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Urban Fantasy; Humor; Horror
Description: Unspeakable horrors have been unleashed on Asheville, North Carolina.Spectral demons tear victims apart from the inside out, leaving nothing but gory destruction in their wake. And their next victim is one of the biggest extradimensional crime lords around—the One Guy. To survive a fate equal to but also worse than death, he’ll have to convince Black Box Inc. to save his sorry ass.Chase Lawter and his crack team—an omnisexual yeti, an ex-Fae assassin, and a business savvy zombie—are tasked with transporting the One Guy to Washington, D. C. where the Department of Extradimensional Affairs will
Publisher: Bell Bridge Books

Table of Contents

Praise for Jake Bible

Jake Bible’s titles from Bell Bridge Books

Blood Ghast Blues

Copyright

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Please visit these websites for more information about Jake Bible

About the Author

Praise for Jake Bible

“Black Box Inc. is a hoot and a half from beginning to end. Sometimes complete with actual hoots, because the snarkitude exhibited by all the characters—but especially Chase—is often laugh out loud funny.”

—ReadingReality.net

“Forget clawed mutants and moody men of steel. Jake Bible’s Grotesques are the heroes this world needs. Stone Cold Bastards is outright bloody fun . . . an unashamedly campy, no-holds-barred post-apocalyptic thrill ride that will make you cheer.”

—SciFi and Scary

“[In Stone Cold Bastards] there are moments to break your heart and moments that make you want to get out your guns and fight for humanity.”

—Dena Martin, Outlaw Poet, Goodreads

Jake Bible’s titles from
Bell Bridge Books

Stone Cold Bastards

The Black Box Inc. Series

Black Box Inc.

Blood Ghast Blues

Blood Ghast Blues
by

Jake Bible

Bell Bridge Books

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

Bell Bridge Books
PO BOX 300921
Memphis, TN 38130
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-860-8
Print ISBN: 978-1-61194-874-5

Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

Copyright © 2018 by Jake Bible

Published in the United States of America.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

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Cover design: Debra Dixon
Interior design: Hank Smith
Photo/Art credits:
Man (manipulated) © Captblack76 | Dreamstime.com
Background (manipulated) © Unholyvault | Dreamstime.com

:Mgbb:01:

1.

“HEY, MAN, SPARE a hex?” a short, fat, extremely dirty little man asked as I crossed the street in front of the Buncombe County courthouse. “A small one will do. You know, or anything you got on ya.”

“No hexes. Sorry,” I said and walked past him. A second short, fat, extremely dirty little man appeared in my path.

“Come on, man. We know you got a hex on ya,” he said.

A third one appeared next to him.

“We can smell it, man,” the third one said.

Leprechauns. Gambling addicts and always panhandling around Asheville since no one would shoot craps with them without proof of real currency. Leprechaun gold was not real currency.

“You want a hex so you can sell it and go throw bones,” I said and tried to shove past the two men. A fourth and fifth arrived. “Seriously?”

“We smell hexes,” the first leprechaun said as he came around and faced me. “You got one on ya.”

I sighed and pulled my wallet from my pocket. I opened it. “Eight bucks is all I got.”

“The hex!” the leprechauns shouted.

“I don’t have a . . . Oh, you mean this,” I said as I pulled a blade from my other pocket. An apocalypse blade.

The leprechauns flinched, eyed each other, then held up their hands and backed away.

“It’s cool, man,” the first one said. “We don’t want no trouble.”

They winked out as fast as they had appeared and I was alone, standing in the middle of the crosswalk. Someone honked a horn and I flipped them off before moving on.

Spending a weekend in county jail for wrongful imprisonment of a woman I deeply cared about had really put things in perspective. Charges had been dropped almost immediately, since said woman didn’t really want to press charges as much as she wanted me to feel what it was like to be cooped up in a small space against my will. Also, there was the whole being innocent because I was saving her damn life, but still . . .

Having time to be truly alone made a person think through certain priorities. So did a good walk through downtown Asheville. I made my way from the courthouse, took care of a bill that needed adjusting, and continued to the office of Black Box Inc. My office.

I said hi to everyone, took the usual shit from my crew of the omnisexual yeti, the Fae-trained assassin, and the zombie MBA, then sat down and got to work.

The past couple weeks had been Hell, almost literally, and I was ready to get back to the normal business grind of hiding family heirlooms from greedy relatives and tucking away magic cauldrons for safekeeping and away from snooping warlocks. Boring, everyday, regular client stuff.

I should have known that wasn’t going to happen.

The office door opened and Chappy Reginue came falling in. Falling because he’d been pushed by two dopplers into our office.

Chappy was a two-bit hustler piece of scum that pretty much got himself into trouble every damn day of his pitiful life. Not our usual clientele, but he had been in a bit of a jam a couple weeks earlier, right before our other trouble started, and I had helped him out. For a very large fee, of course.

“Lawter, you gotta help me,” he said as he picked himself up. He held out his Dim key. “I need to open this up and get that kobold head back.”

“Sharon?” I asked.

“He has not paid the invoice I sent him,” Sharon said.

“No can do, Chappy,” I replied to the sniveling scumbag. “Once you pay your invoice then I can take that key from you and fetch your box. But we are very strict about not retrieving boxes when there’s an outstanding balance on the account.”

“Get the box,” the dopplers said and moved to walk past the wooden rail that marked the boundary between the reception area and the rest of the office.

They hit a wall. Literally. The railing was hexed. No one but employees of Black Box Inc. could get past the barrier unless we wanted them to.

“Get the box,” they said again.

“No,” I said.

Freaking dopplers. The name comes from doppelgänger, but they don’t look exactly alike the way doppelgängers are supposed to. Which pisses me off because why call them dopplers if they don’t look the same? Close, sure, but not identical. I hate that shit.

They do, however, share a psychic link between their idiot brains. Maybe, and I’m not admitting this is correct, maybe they are called dopplers because their brains are identical in their stupidity and they need two to work through one thought?

Doesn’t matter. They are morons of the highest order and used only as muscle in most dimensions. Can’t imagine what their own dimension is like. Jesus, a whole place of nothing but dopplers. That’s a scary thought.

“Lawter, please, man, you gotta help me,” Chappy said. “They’re going to not kill me.”

“Who is?” I asked.

“The One Guy, man!”

“He’s going to not kill you? He said that?”

“Yes!”

Shit . . . not killing. One Guy was notorious for not killing beings and torturing them forever instead. Rumor had it he knew of a dimension that was basically the physical representation of eternity where the pain could last forever.

“Chappy, listen to me. You, too, dopplers, because I don’t plan on repeating this. I am not fetching your box until you pay your bill.”

The box. A black box. That little favor I did for Chappy was to put a kobold head into a black box made of Dim. That’s what I do. It’s why we’re called Black Box Inc.

I have a special gift, an ability to pull a substance called Dim from the space between dimensions, which is also called the Dim, and then form said Dim from the Dim into basically whatever I want. Boxes are easy to craft and clients pay me to drop valuables inside them then banish the boxes to the Dim where they are completely secure until the client hands me a Dim key and wants their goods retrieved.

The process takes very little time, but does drain me of energy, requiring me to eat a god-awful amount of food.

“Lawter, man, please. I need the box.”

“Pay your bill, Mr. Reginue,” Sharon, the zombie, said. She shivered at having to use his last name. Sometimes Sharon is too business-polite for her own good. Sharon Spaglioni is from a dimension made up almost entirely of the undead, except she’s super smart here on Earth because of all the brains she ate back home. Sharon is our business manager and makes sure i’s are dotted, t’s are crossed, and bills get paid. She is very, very good at her job. “Until you’re paid up, we have nothing to discuss.”

“Will cash be all right?” a man said as he walked into the office.

White suit, white hat, white shoes, black shirt and white tie. Face obscured by a hex that made it all soft and out of focus. Except I knew what he looked like. Or used to look like.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” the One Guy said. “I would like to pay this useless speck of dust’s invoice for him, if I may.”

I looked at Sharon, she shrugged. I looked at Lassa, the seven-foot tall yeti, and Harper, my assassin-trained head of security, but their eyes were on the dopplers, leaving the One Guy to me.

“Huh,” was all I said.

“Is that a yes, Chase?” the One Guy asked. “Huh can have so many different meanings.”

Everyone knows a guy. Harper knows a guy that can make blades forged with dragon fire. Lassa knows a guy that can hook us up with a submarine that withstands depths not in existence on Earth. Sharon knows a guy that keeps us from getting audited by the IRS, which is good since our deductions are unorthodox to say the least.

My guy? The One Guy. Former acquaintance from when I was a kid stuck in a household filled with abuse and meth-addled junkies. I escaped to the streets of Asheville, NC, and lived the life of a homeless teen. Homeless was way better than the “home” I bailed from.

The One Guy would have never amounted to jack shit without the extradimensional happening which turned our world into a brand new playground for every off-world crazy and fairy tale being from other dimensions who could suddenly travel to and interact with our world. That . . .opportunity changed One Guy’s fortune. He figured out how to take advantage of some of the magic that seeped through the wide-open portals. He obscured his face, and being a thug from day one, he also quickly learned how to manipulate lesser intelligent beings that came wandering through those same wide-open portals. Like the dopplers. They are his muscle and he is very good at manipulating them into doing his bidding. Not even sure if he paid the lugs or not. The promise of violence seemed to be payment enough for the shared-thought buffoons.

“That’s a huh that means I need to think for a moment,” I said.

“My money is as good as anyone else’s, right?” He grinned that grin of his, all capped teeth and dead eyes. Even through the hex, that grin and those eyes stood out. It was part of his shtick. “If it isn’t, then maybe you’d do it for old time’s sake? Pretty please?”

The dopplers looked confused. They were used to their boss being a cruel bastard to anyone that crossed him. Pretty please was not computing across that psychic link of theirs.

“Open the box,” they said.

“Relax, boys, and let me chat with my old pal Chase here,” the One Guy said as he stepped closer and placed a hand against the barrier. He snatched it back and shook his palm like he’d touched a hot element. “Ow. Nice hex there. If I did pay Chappy’s bill, would that make me a client? Would I be able to step past this tacky railing?”

“Technically, it might,” Sharon said out of the corner of her rotting mouth. The answer was meant for my ears, but with the office being only one large room, the One Guy easily heard it. “I will need to look up the exact parameters of the specific hex.”

“Excellent,” he said as he reached into his jacket.

Lassa was on his feet and growling at the same time Harper pulled a very large, and I’m not kidding when I say very large, S&W .500 Magnum pistol from a drawer in her desk. Harper Kyles is our head of security and looked the part. Battle scars filled her deep brown face like age lines even though she was only in her twenties. She habitually moved thick, raven black dreadlocks out of her eyes with the tip of her knife.

Having security like Harper is a very good idea when in the line of work we’re in. Not everyone has our best interests at heart. Also, my skills sometimes attract the attention of those that would rather force me to do a job than pay us to do that job. Harper keeps me, and the others, safe from all that crap.

“Money,” the One Guy said as he withdrew a wallet and proceeded to pluck hundred dollar bills one by one from inside it. The wallet had to be hexed because it barely bulged, yet out came bill after bill. “What is the exact amount Chappy owes again? He told me, but you know Chappy, he says a lot and most of it is BS.”

“I didn’t say whether or not we’d let you pay,” I responded. “Still thinking that over, Le”—

“Tut tut, Chase. My name is the One Guy. We all have our nom de plumes. The least you can do is let our past be our past and respect my new position in this quaint mountain town of ours.”

“What happened to old time’s sake? Never mind. Don’t answer. It’d be bullshit anyway. And, no, pal, we don’t all have our nom de plumes. We have actual names and we use them.”

“Is that so? My turn to say huh. I am almost sure that many of the extradimensional beings call you defiler of dimensions.”

“That’s a nickname, assface,” Harper snarled. “And it’s a shitty one. Call him Chase or get the fuck out.”

“What she said, dude,” Lassa added, cracking his huge knuckles as he took a couple of steps towards the railing.

Harper didn’t get up to join him, but her eyes narrowed in that way they do right before she pulls the trigger. She was an assassin prodigy until she did something bad and got herself exiled from the Fae mafia and their faerie dimension. Not sure what she did, and despite us being friends since we were young teens forced to live on the streets, she never told me. We all have our secrets.

“Can we be civilized, please?” Sharon asked. She held out her hands and stood. “The One Guy here is simply asking to pay Chappy’s delinquent account. While that may or may not entitle him to client privileges, the Dim box would still belong to Chappy and it would be Chappy’s choice whether or not to open it.”

“Yeah! That!” Chappy nearly shouted. “I choose opening it so the dopplers don’t cram boots in my rear end for eternity.”

“I was not proposing that kind of torture, Chappy, but it is creative,” the One Guy said. “I’ll add that to the list.”

“There’s a list?” Chappy whined.

“A long one.”

“Oh, shit, no, come on!”

“Chappy? Shut up,” I said. “One Guy? Why do you need the kobold head?”

“That is my business,” he replied.

“Make it mine too. Tell me why this kobold head is so damn important and I’ll honestly consider letting you pay Chappy’s debt. Don’t tell me and there is no way that is happening.” I hooked my thumb over my shoulder at Harper and Lassa. “What will happen is a whole lot of suck for your dopplers and probably you too. Understood?”

“Chase, we have history”—

“Stop bringing up our history. Otherwise I’ll remind you of how shitty it was and maybe I’ll start feeling like opening some old wounds. I don’t think either of us wants that.”

“You are right. I agree. It was not pleasant . . . for either of us. But now, we have a chance to put all that behind us and forge a new relationship. A business relationship I hope will be profitable for all parties involved.”

“Not interested if you won’t tell me what the kobold head is all about.”

“Chase, do not be rash,” Sharon said.

She’d perked up at the mention of profit. Not that she was greedy, or even unethical when it came to our finances, but she simply worried a lot about us remaining solvent as an operation. At the moment, I was a unique entity that allowed us to offer a unique service, but who knew if one day someone else would be able to manipulate the Dim and offer the same services we did. Sharon had mentioned that worry on more than one occasion and mumbled about eroding market share.

“What business relationship are you proposing?” Sharon asked the One Guy.

Harper groaned and relaxed slightly as she switched it up and used the tip of her pistol’s barrel to push a stray, raven black dreadlock behind her ear. “Am I shooting or not?”

A flush had darkened the deep brown of her cheekbones and I knew she really wanted to shoot. Only a couple weeks earlier, Harper had had to deceive us in order to protect us from a serious threat. We wound up in a world of shit. She was obviously overcompensating for any guilt or loss of trust by trying to be a good team player. And shooting shit to all Hell is Harper’s go-to move when it comes to overcompensation. Or stabbing shit to all Hell. She does like to stab things, too.

“There is a lot of conflict in this room,” the One Guy said. “I don’t think we can have a meaningful nor productive conversation.” He pulled back the sleeve of his expensive suit jacket and studied an even more expensive watch. “I have an appointment at 4pm I cannot miss, but it won’t take long. Perhaps I can come back at five and bring some dinner as a show of my peaceful intentions? We can break bread while we talk.”

“Chase?” Sharon asked.

“Thai,” I said. “A lot of it.”

“Excellent,” the One Guy replied, beaming.

“You have got to be kidding,” Harper snapped.

“Seriously, dude?” Lassa responded.

He could have been castigating my decision to talk to One Guy or complaining about having to work overtime. It’s hard to tell with Lassa. The yeti is shaved, attractive as sin, and enjoys an “active” and busy omnisexual lifestyle. He’s in charge of transportation and knows a guy in every single dimension when we’re in need of wheels, wings, rotors, and motors. He might be a lovable, useful lug but he can and will rip someone limb from limb if they threaten his friends and/or family. But even when ripping off arms or expressing his doubt about doing business with One Guy, he’s still a laid back ski bum from a dimension made up of massive mountains and totally shreddable slopes.

“Look, Lassa, he pays for dinner, we listen while we eat the dinner he’s paid for, then we reject him,” I said, locking my eyes with the One Guy’s. “Unless he tells us about the kobold head.”

“We’ll discuss that over drunken noodles and massaman curry,” the One Guy said and snapped his fingers.

The dopplers blinked, looked at their boss, then gave Chappy a hard shove out of the way and left the office, one holding the door for the One Guy.

“See you all at five,” the One Guy said.

“What about me?” Chappy asked.

“You weren’t planning on going anywhere, were you, Chappy?” the One Guy asked.

“I guess not,” Chappy replied.

“Then have a seat and wait for my return.” The One Guy glared at the scumbag until Chappy shrugged and took a seat in one of the chairs in our waiting area. “Very nice. Chase, I look forward to talking more. Good day to you all.”

Then he was gone and we were left with Chappy.

“Can I shoot this prick, at least?” Harper asked, waving the pistol in Chappy’s direction.

“Tempting,” I said as I left my desk and walked past the wooden railing to join Chappy. I sat in the chair next to him. “Time for the talk before the talk.”

2.

“YOU THINK HE’S been in there long enough?” I asked as I held a Dim key in my left palm. “He’s probably ready to talk now, yeah?”

When I create a box out of Dim I can scratch off a piece and use it as a key to retrieve the box from the Dim. The key not only retrieves, but opens the box to reveal whatever is inside.

I tune myself to the key in my hand then will the Chappy-in-a-box back to our dimension. The box is about the size of a coffin standing on end and constructed out of smoke that is the deepest black. Good ol’ Dim.

“Chase, I have to once again protest this kind of treatment of a client,” Sharon said as she wrung her hands over and over, nearly sloughing off the dead skin. “I do despise Chappy Reginue, but we cannot violate our professional ethics based on our personal feelings.”

“It’s Chappy,” Harper said. “We should violate harder. Like with a baseball bat to the head.”

“I still don’t get how people can breathe inside those boxes,” Lassa said. “Where does the air come from?”

“Air happens, Lassa,” I replied. “No idea how, but Dim boxes have air. Limitless apparently. One more mystery to the process.”

“Let him out, Chase,” Sharon said.

I did.

A quick wave of the key and the box disappeared into a cloud of smoke then was gone as if it had never been there. Chappy fell forward, but I caught him and set him back in the chair he’d been in an hour earlier.

“You suck, Lawter,” Chappy said as he took several deep breaths. “I’m claustrophobic and that was not cool, man.”

“I honestly didn’t know you were claustrophobic,” I replied. “So, that probably means you don’t want to go back in?” I held my hands out and smoke began to rise from my palms. Chappy’s eyes went huge.

“No!” he cried. “Jesus, man, no. I’ll tell you all about the kobold head.”

We waited as he sweated all over the chair. He was a mess. His shirt and hair were damp and I really hoped the stain on his pants was sweat too.

“The kobold is royal blood. A prince or something,” Chappy said. “I was sent by someone, and I ain’t saying who, but I was sent by someone to pick it up a few weeks ago and deliver it to an address here in town.”

“The night you interrupted our dinner at Taps & Tapas,” I said.

Taps & Tapas was my favorite restaurant in town. Great food, great drinks, a little spendy, but well worth the cost. Mainly because I have a thing for the owner, Iris Penn. She does not have a thing for me. I got her accidentally involved in a plot to steal Lord Beelzebub’s soul and she ended up trapped inside a Dim box for two weeks.

The box Iris had been in wasn’t like the one I stuck Chappy in. Hers was much larger and outfitted with many comforts of home. Comfy furniture. Plenty of food and water. A couple of books to read.

And a rotting changeling corpse.

That last point might have been why she was really ticked off at me. Also why I had a brief fling with a wrongful imprisonment charge. At least she changed her mind, so there may be hope for us yet.

I’m not gonna hold my breath, though.

“Yes, that night,” Chappy said. “I picked up the kobold head like I was supposed to then went straight to the address. Problem was, no one was there. I waited an hour at least. That’s when the dopplers showed up. They really wanted that head. So I took off running and happened to see you all eating in that joint and knew you’d help me.”

“You saw us?” Harper asked. “From the front window?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Bullshit.” She smirked and pulled an eight-inch blade from her belt. One of many blades she kept on her at all times. She flicked the knife about her hand then pointed it at Chappy. “We sit at the same table every time. One that’s in the far corner so our backs are against the wall. None of the windows has a view of that table. Part of the reason we use it.”

“Gotta agree with my head of security there, Chappy,” I said. “Your story is shit, pal.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Chappy swore. He looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. “Okay, okay, I knew you’d be there. I called the restaurant.”

“You called the restaurant while running from dopplers?” Lassa asked. “Really, dude?”

“Chappy, I can make the Dim box smaller this time,” I said.

“Shit no!” Chappy exclaimed. “Okay, and this is the truth. I was late to drop off the kobold head. Real late. Maybe four hours late. Dopplers were waiting there, so I ran. I came by here, but you were gone. I knew where you hung out, so I called the restaurant and the hostess said y’all were there eating. I knew that if I got you to hide the head in the Dim, it’d be secure and maybe I’d be able to save my ass when I got in touch with the guy that set up the gig.”

“And the dopplers? How’d they track you down?”

“I don’t know. Honest, man! I don’t. I was about to open the restaurant door and they came around the corner. The four that showed up and ruined your dinner”—

“You ruined our dinner, Chappy.”

“Yeah, okay, fine, I ruined your dinner. But the ones that followed me into the restaurant may not have even been the same ones that were waiting at the drop-off address. Those thugs all look the same.”

“Not really. And I hate them for that.” I sighed. “My problem now is that you still haven’t explained why the kobold head is so important.”

“I don’t know. I got paid well to pick it up and drop it off. That’s all I know. And man, even telling you that could get my ass killed.”

“Yes, Chappy, that’s totally my worry.” I glanced at my colleagues. “Guys? Thoughts?”

“Hard to tell if he’s lying on that one,” Harper said. “But royal kobold heads are worth a lot to many different dimensions.”

“Why?” I asked.

I was probably the only one of us who needed a crash course in royal kobold. The extradimensional happening was only ten years past. I’d learned a lot, but Harper was abducted to the faerie dimension, Lassa was centuries old, and along with Sharon, from a different dimension than Earth. Their understanding of how the greater Universe worked was better than mine.

“Magical properties,” Harper replied with a shrug. “Taking the fighting spirit from the royal blood and co-opting it for one’s own purposes. Hex booster. Dimensional ward. Food.”

“Totally gross,” Lassa said.

“I love some spare ribs, but pigs are worshipped in many dimensions,” Harper said. “I’d be gutted and strung up if I showed up with a bag of barbecue in any of those. So, to each their own culinary tastes.”

“As the guy that has to eat constantly to stay alive, I say gross too,” I said.

“Right? Yuck city, dude,” Lassa said.

“If I may,” Sharon said, steering us back to the subject. “What is the address of the drop-off location?”

“I like that question,” Harper said. “We can scope it”—

“No. No scoping,” Sharon said, holding up a grey-fleshed finger.

She did a great job with her many wigs and the makeup she applied to look less . . .undead, but she couldn’t hide it all. The finger she held up was not looking the best after all the hand wringing. She was going to need to eat a bushel of porcine brains to heal up that damage.

“I simply want to do a real estate search and see who owns the building,” she continued. “That may give us insight into who the party is that Chappy is dealing with. And may I stress that part? Chappy is dealing with this, not us. We’re simply doing our due diligence to be sure we aren’t getting ourselves in the middle of anything that will bite us in the butt. Assuming there are no issues, when the One Guy returns, we will do as Chappy asks and release the kobold head into his hands. There has been too much chaos lately and we need to restore a semblance of order with our business.”

She looked us all in the eye and smiled. “And we could use the money,” she added.

“Can’t argue with any of that,” I said. “Getting paid is nice. And order would be a good thing after the couple of weeks we had.”

“And your little stint in the pokey,” Lassa said.

“Don’t call it a pokey,” Harper responded. “That’s lame. Don’t be lame.”

“I like the word pokey.” Lassa grinned.

“I bet you do.”

“Jail. County jail. Let’s call it county jail,” I said.

“What about the lockup?” Lassa asked. “The hoosegow?”

“Is there some reason you want my stay in jail to sound like I’m a Wild West outlaw?” I asked.

“You wish you were that cool,” Harper scoffed.

“A semblance of order with our business . . .” Sharon sighed.

“Did you all really go toe-to-toe with Daphne?” Chappy asked, interrupting our banter. “You took on the Fae and lived? Damn. Fighting the faerie mafia. I respect that.”

“None ya biz,” Harper responded as she juggled three blades for half a second then made them disappear as if she hadn’t been doing a damn thing. Chappy gulped.

“What Harper is saying, Mr. Reginue, is what we do or do not do as part of our business is none of your concern,” Sharon said. “What is our concern is the location of where you were paid to drop off the kobold head. Address, please?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Chappy replied and nodded. “It’s, uh, I don’t know. That building over on Lexington. The one they are gutting and turning into a bed and breakfast?”

“You don’t know the address?” Harper asked. “You get more worthless with every new word that comes out of that trap of yours.”

“It’s not a bed and breakfast. They’re building a boutique hotel. There’s a difference,” Lassa said and smirked as we glanced at him. “What? I went out with the construction manager and his wife a couple months ago. Talk about an epic threesome. That woman is fit and he certainly has kept in shape despite a desk job.”

“That place. I know it,” Harper said, rolling her eyes at Lassa. “We should go have a look. Vibe the space out. See if there’s any lingering mojo.”

“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” I said. “Not exactly the time for covert ops, Harp. And I’m a little beat from my stay in the hoosegow.”

“Nice, dude,” Lassa said and gave me a thumbs up.

“We don’t need covert when we have lover yeti here and his threesome connection.” Harper grinned. “Maybe we can get a personal tour.”

“Ooh, good idea,” Lassa said and gave her a thumbs-up too. “I have been meaning to call them and see if they wanted another weekend hookup. Perfect excuse.”

“You people are weird as shit,” Chappy said.

“You want to go back in the Dim, asshole?” I asked. He blanched. “Don’t be a judgmental dick.”

“A field trip is not a good idea,” Sharon said. “The One Guy will be returning in two hours.”

“We’ll be back by then,” I said. “That building is only a couple blocks away.”

“And One Guy is bringing Thai,” Lassa added.

“Exactly,” I agreed as my stomach rumbled with hunger. Working the Dim, even an easy box like the one I had tucked Chappy in, upped my metabolism by a thousand percent. I was looking forward to Thai food.

“We taking the scumbag with us or leaving him here?” Harper asked.

“Shar? You mind?” I asked.

“I do mind, since you were kind enough to ask. I am not a babysitter. But he should remain here,” Sharon replied. “Best not to lose track of a client who owes us a considerable amount.”

“Thanks.” I turned and locked eyes with Chappy. “You make one goddamn move and the One Guy will be the least of your worries.”

“Shit, Lawter, I ain’t going nowhere,” Chappy said. “This chair is the safest place in Asheville right now.”

3.

WE LEFT CHAPPY with Sharon at the office and headed through downtown Asheville to Lexington Avenue. The building was actually more than a couple blocks away, but not by much. We walked the sidewalk, or tried to, unless we had to detour around mobs of tourists standing slack-jawed to watch the constant entertainment that was our wonderfully weird corner of the world.

We were weird—and liked it that way, even before the portal. We had the ubiquitous tourist town street performers and buskers. But being Asheville, we also had plenty of hippies with their nightly drum circles, men dressed as nuns and riding ten-foot-high bicycles, free hugs and free love. A slice of the 1960s, reimagined in the 1990s then updated for the 21st century.

All of that brought money. Tourism dollars which began to change the face of Asheville. Greed started to overtake weird, and everything was going south fast. The spirit of funky Asheville was being gentrified out of the town.

Then the portals to other dimensions opened and the weird came back with a vengeance.

If you’ve ever read about a creature in some fairy tale, it now exists and can probably be seen walking Pack Square or by the Flat Iron building. The monsters are real and they want to buy over-priced grilled cheese sandwiches and even more over-priced pints of craft brew, just like all the damned human tourists.

Good ol’ Asheville.

For millennia the dimensions remained strictly separate except for some weak spots here and there. Those weak spots were what allowed shamans, witch doctors, psychics, mediums, and other paranormal explorers to tap into and catch glimpses of other realms outside our own. Those weak spots also let magic, good and bad, seep into our reality now and again.

Into places like Boulder, Austin, Portland and Eugene, Burlington, Santa Fe and Taos, the entire Bay Area, and other funky spots in the US and across the globe.

Asheville.

Then a shift occurred and the secret held by the religious elite, mad folk, and hippy-dippy cults was out.

We were not alone. There were many dimensions. An infinite number. The veils had fallen and not only could we see into other worlds, we could travel to them. And they could see and travel into ours.

Think of the travel like crossing the borders between countries, except the border crossings were suddenly left wide open. People didn’t need rituals, spells, trances, blood sacrifices anymore to pierce the veil and spy on another dimension. If they had the will and the power, they could walk right through. Both ways. Plenty of people, and other things, so many other things, had come sauntering into our dimension ten years ago that everyone’s definition of normal changed.

Almost everyone. The powers that be on Earth weren’t too keen on letting the cat completely out of the bag. The vortex points like Asheville and the other cities each got their very own Grand Hex. An all-encompassing spell that allowed folks to enjoy, or not, the strangeness while inside the borders of each portal’s geographic area, but as soon as they left, their memories became fuzzy and that sasquatch they’d seen hiking on the Appalachian Trail became a recollection of a really hairy, tall man that had yelled, not growled, with fangs bared, at them.

Until the federal, state, and local political and law enforcement apparatus could fully get a handle on things, what happened in Ashevegas stayed in Ashevegas. And a lot happened in Ashevegas.

We wove our way through the crowds of people and beings until we could duck down an alley as a short cut. Two turns later we came out onto Lexington Avenue, almost directly across from our destination. A destination succumbing to the inevitable, greed-fueled, corporate gentrification that has been threatening the wonderful weird of Asheville for the past decade.

Human or monster, tourist heads wanted expensive pillows to sleep on, and enterprising entrepreneurs were great at catering to that want while disregarding the needs of the actual people that lived in the city they were tearing down and building over. The future boutique hotel across from us was case in point.

However, the rows of police cars and barriers with yellow police tape that cordoned off the building were not case in point and had to be hurting the real estate prices up and down the block.

“Lawter! Dammit, what are you doing here?” a voice bellowed from a group of suits standing just inside the police tape. “Get over here! Now!”

Detective Carl Willitz was a middle-aged man with olive skin and a receding hairline that could be fixed with a decent haircut. Instead he was going for the skullet look. He was in horrible shape, but that was expected for someone that spent life going from desk to car and back to desk again. He was probably going to die of a heart attack within the decade; if not from his lack of physical fitness then from the fact he was under a lot of strain working for the NC Department of Extradimensional Affairs.

I’d only left Willitz a few hours earlier. He was the one that let me out of jail when the charges were dropped. He let me out personally, partly because of the extradimensional nature of the charges and partly because he needed a favor.

Needing that favor was probably why he didn’t shoot me on sight. We weren’t exactly friendly. Another reason could have been the fact he had what looked like a small army of Feds on his back. They were milling about, talking on cell phones, looking at notepads and tablets, speaking with patrolmen and patrolwomen.

That Federal bustle stopped and every bureaucratic eye turned to glare at us as Willitz waved us over.

“We could walk away,” Lassa said. “Bail on their suit-wearing asses. We don’t owe that guy shit, dude.”

“Or we could kill them all and sleep better at night knowing there are fewer Federal fucktards loose in the world,” Harper said. She actually reached for one of the blades on her belt.

“Nope,” I said. “Willitz isn’t so bad. The guy is under a lot of pressure.”

Lassa and Harper turned and stared at me like I’d sprouted angel wings from my back.

“The Feds are in town because there’s a dragon problem heading our way.”

“The six up in Mars Hill?” Harper asked.

“Three Canadian dragons with a grudge against the six in Mars Hill.”

“Dragon fight. Yikes,” Lassa said.

“Still not a reason to go soft on Willitz,” Harper said.

“I’m not going soft. All I’m saying is he isn’t as bad as”—

“Lawter! Get your freak ass over here! Now!” Willitz yelled.

“Yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking. He sucks,” I said. “Fuck this asshole. Let’s go back to the office.”

We turned and came face-to-sunglasses-wearing-face with four Fed tough guys and one Fed tough gal. The four men had hands on their government-issued pistols. The woman had her hands clasped in front of her.

“Chase Lawter. Harper Kyles. And Lassa . . . ? I’m sorry, do you have a last name?” the woman asked. She was average height, maybe in her early forties, and almost as dark-complected as Harper. Her eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses but the smile she gave us held zero warmth.

Lassa looked her up and down then flashed that smile that made most women, and men, weak in the knees. He may be a seven-foot tall, shaved yeti from another dimension, but he also happens to be one of the most attractive beings ever to set foot on Earth. Almost everyone swooned when in his presence.

“I would love to discuss my surname,” Lassa said, the charm so thick you could taste it. “Perhaps over breakfast?”

“Jesus,” Harper muttered.

“What a nice offer,” the woman said as she undid a button on her blouse. To show us a rather large amulet made of some type of stone that refused to stay the same color. “However, I will pass.”

“Since when do Feds wear stasis wards?” Harper asked. It was not a casual question and her right hand gripped the handle of a very large knife. “That’s swamp witch hoodoo there.”

“You know your amulet magic,” the woman said and her cold smile warmed slightly towards Harper. “Your file is slightly lacking in details. I’ll add that in when I finish my paperwork for the day.”

“I don’t know what an amulet has to do with anything,” Lassa mumbled under his breath. He hated rejection. “I’m not magic.”

“No, pal, you aren’t. What you are is goddamn handsome. Screw this chick,” I said and rolled my eyes. “Now, how about the chick gets out of our way.”

“I think not, Mr. Lawter,” the woman replied. She smiled.

I sighed. “Okay. Chick is not getting out of the way. Does the chick have a name?”

“Special Agent Alexandrine Ducheré, Federal Department of Extradimensional Affairs,” she replied. “Call me chick again and I’ll crack off some of that Dim you manipulate and place it somewhere you really do not want it to be.”

“I think I like her,” Harper said. “Creole fire.”

Special Agent Alexandrine Ducheré nodded at Harper. “Don’t start liking me yet, Ms. Kyles. I’m not here to be your friend.”

“Why are you DEX peeps here? Other than to completely misunderstand how Dim works,” I said.

“I was being facetious,” Ducheré replied. “But, to answer your question, I am here because what has occurred inside that building across the street was far from normal. In fact, I would appreciate it if you three would accompany me to the crime scene so I may ask you a few questions.”

“We all have alibis,” I said. “Hell, Willitz only let me out of jail this morning. My associates can also”—

“None of you is a suspect,” Ducheré interrupted. “I was there when you were interrogated a couple weeks ago for the suspected murder of Iris Penn.”

“Who is very much alive,” I said.

“Exactly. I have also spoken with Detective Willitz about your willingness to assist in the dragon issue. You and your associates have a unique perspective on extradimensional phenomena and I would like your take on . . . what’s inside.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Lassa said.

“How much blood we talking?” Harper asked.

“No, not good in the slightest. And there is a great deal of blood,” Ducheré responded.

“That sounds like work,” I said. “We get paid for work. Speaking of, we don’t have time to play cops and Feds. We have to get back to the office for our appointment with”—

“The One Guy,” Ducheré said.

“You really gotta stop interrupting people, lady,” I said. “I know trolls around here that rip off arms when people are rude like that.”

“You will not be meeting with the One Guy today, Mr. Lawter. Your appointment has been cancelled.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because it has. That frees up your afternoon and evening considerably. And if your office manager is worried about losing business, I do have funds available in my budget to compensate outside consultants. I am sure we can negotiate a fair rate with Ms. Spaglioni.”

“You know a lot about us.”

“I do.”

“And you probably won’t take no for an answer.”

“There is no probably, Mr. Lawter.”

“I could call our lawyer.”

“I already have and Ms. Sullivan is sending a representative from her law firm to supervise. Apparently, she was too busy to attend herself. She said she had a prior engagement, but my instinct says you pissed her off.”

“Chase? What did you do?” Lassa asked.

“I negotiated a lower bill for the whole Fae thing,” I said. “She didn’t like the way I did it.”

“Don’t want to know,” Lassa said.

“You already called our lawyers?” Harper asked. “How’d you know we’d even come here?”

“I didn’t,” Ducheré replied. “I was planning on coming to your office. You three saved me a trip.” She gestured towards the building. “Shall we?”

The three of us shared looks then sighed almost in unison.

“I take that as a yes. Come on. Oh, and please stay within the hex lines once inside. That’ll keep you from contaminating the scene. It will also save your shoes from being ruined. There truly is an excessive amount of blood.”

4.

THE SIGHT OF BLOOD doesn’t usually affect me. I’ve seen my share. But Ducheré was right, there was an excessive amount. Couple that with the gnawing hunger in my belly and I was two breaths past queasy.

“Total exsanguination,” Harper said as we stepped onto the second floor, which was nothing but the frames of future walls for future overpriced hotel rooms. “How many? A dozen bodies?”

“Fifteen,” Ducheré replied. “The full construction crew. They arrived on the site between 6:15 and 6:30 this morning according to cell tower and GPS records.”

“You found their phones?” Harper asked.

“Yes.” Ducheré pointed at a small table set off to the side of the room with several cell phones lined up on top. “Our manipulator was able to glean the data despite the extensive damage caused by the blood.”

A man wearing khakis and a polo shirt (orange) was standing by the table, his eyes narrowed as he watched the activity in the room. And there was a lot of activity. Every second or so his eyes would light up with green fire then turn to black before returning to normal.

“Feds are actively involving practitioners now?” Harper snorted. “Finally figured out that the Universe doesn’t give a shit about fitting into your little crime-solving procedures, huh?”

Lassa and I shared a look. Harper was taking way too much interest in the scene. Something had her hackles up and when Harper’s hackles are up, it meant pay attention.

“Theories?” I asked.

“Something large came through into our dimension and butchered these men,” Ducheré admitted rather candidly. “That is all we know.”

“Large somethings usually like to snack when traveling,” I said. “How chewed up were the bodies?”

“Not at all. No bite marks. No marks anywhere on them. Despite being torn to shreds.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said.

“Yeah, it does,” Harper said. “If we’re talking about a blood ghast.”

“Blood ghost?” Lassa asked.

“Ghast,” Harper replied. “Nasty little shits. They get into the body through any physical opening then rip the victim open from the inside out. It explains the bodies and the blood.”

“Never heard of a blood ghast,” Ducheré said.

“Shit. I have,” I said, looking at Harper for confirmation. “Those two kids back in 2002. You said that’s what got them. “

“Yeah,” Harper replied.

Harper and I knew each other from way back. We’d spent a few years on the streets of Asheville amongst the other street kids. This was before the extradimensional happening. But, Asheville had always been a weak point between the dimensions, a vortex point for the strange and unknown, so sometimes nasty shits slipped through the cracks.

I looked around the building. I had a very bad feeling we were standing in one of those cracks.

“Now you see why I was about to seek you out,” Ducheré asked. “This has happened in Asheville before and your names were associated with the event. There was zero mention of a blood ghast, of course, but I do not believe in coincidences.”

“Me neither,” I said.

Back then I’d thought the two kids had pissed off some crack dealer and got themselves butchered. Harper had known better and tried to explain to me that things weren’t always as they seemed. I humored her, but I had serious doubts. Then the portals opened and I apologized for every one of those doubts.

Looked like this was my day for the past to come for a visit. First the One Guy, now this.

“Speaking of coincidences,” I said as I nodded at the huge team of Feds walking along the glowing hex line paths cut through the crime scene. “What are the odds that you happened to have a full investigative team here in town today? Wasn’t that lucky.”

“The dragons in Mars Hill present quite the”—

“Excuse for a bullshit cover,” I interrupted. “You don’t need this much manpower to talk to a few dragons. And dragons prefer the diplomatic approach. You’re here for some other reason.”

Ducheré smiled, but said nothing.

I continued. “Full investigative team with muscle and firepower in tow. At least one hex manipulator.”

“There will be two more,” Harper said, eyes studying Ducheré. “They work in threes.”

“Exactly,” I continued. “Three hex manipulators? You don’t bring that kind of mojo unless you expect trouble. And not the dragon kind of trouble. They’d devour those manipulators before any could even fart.”

“I have asked you here, Mr. Lawter, to get your opinion on what has happened in this building, not your opinion on my overall duties,” Ducheré responded, ice and menace coloring her words. “I was showing you courtesy that I do not have to show. I could throw you back into a jail cell without batting an eye. Same with your friends.”

“On what grounds?” I asked. “You already admitted that you know we aren’t involved.”

“Yes, yes, that is very true,” a small voice said from the stairwell. “Mr. Lawter, please do not say anything else.”

We looked over our shoulders to see a small, white-bearded face trying to peek around the black-suited legs of the two men guarding the stairs.

“Flip,” I said. “Teresa sent you to help? Nice.”

“Yes, it was nice of her,” Flip, a two-foot tall gnome, replied with a pleading look. “Special Agent Ducheré? I was sent by Teresa Sullivan. If you could have your men move, please?”

“You are a lawyer?” Ducheré asked. “I thought that firm was made up of only banshees for lawyers.”

“I am a paralegal,” Flip replied. “But, I am more than capable of handling the situation.”

“He totally is,” Lassa said. “And he makes a wicked cup of chai tea.”

My stomach growled. Chai sounded great right then. Along with ten pounds of Flip’s cookies.

“Let him through,” Ducheré said.

The guards stepped aside and Flip hurried over to us on his short legs. He was dressed in classic gnome attire—pointy hat, red pants, blue shirt, gold-buckled black belt. It was hard to tell gnomes apart sometimes, but we knew Flip from our last job and I’d made a point of remembering him. He was good gnome.

“Dear me,” Flip muttered as he reached us. “This is all very horrible.” He put the back of his hand to his mouth and blinked up at Ducheré. “Blood ghast. Please tell me you have it contained.”

“I wish I could, Mr. . . . Flip, was it?” Ducheré said.

“Flip. No mister. Simply Flip.” He waved his tiny hands about. “Never mind names. Are you saying you have let a blood ghast loose without proper containment protocols in place? Oh, dear me.”

“We did not let anything loose . . . Flip. I am here to investigate these murders”—

“Please, Special Agent Ducheré, do not insult my intelligence or the intelligence of the firm I work for,” Flip said. “We have been tracking your movements since you arrived in Asheville. You might want to be more discrete next time you come looking for a blood ghast.”

“Flip, let me be frank with you.”

“I would appreciate that.”

I glanced at Lassa and Harper and they were enjoying the show as much as I was. Flip was a capable gnome, but watching him go toe-to-toe with Ducheré was goddamn riveting.

“We had no idea a blood ghast was involved”—

“Then why the hunt for the kobold head?” Flip interrupted. “As soon as you arrived you put out a BOLO on the kobold prince’s noggin. Every law enforcement agency for five counties has been hunting for that head. And the only reason you would need a kobold head from that exact bloodline would be to summon a blood ghast.”

“Damn,” I said. “Gnome smackdown, Special Agent.”

Harper nudged me and I shut up.

“Or,” Flip continued. “Unless your need was to banish a blood ghast. It takes considerably more energy to work the hex in reverse, but if you had the right practitioners in place you could use the head to stop a blood ghast from coming into this dimension.”

Click, click, click. Pieces fell into place.

Neither Harper nor Lassa looked in my direction, but I could feel their tension ratchet up a few notches. The kobold head that was in Chappy’s Dim box hadn’t been used to summon the blood ghast. We all knew that because it had been locked away safe and sound in the Dim for weeks.

And it took those weeks for whomever had hired Chappy originally to find a new kobold head.

But why did the One Guy want the head so badly? To do his own summoning? Or was he, and it hurt like hell to say, was he trying to stop the summoning? If that was the case then he had a reason considerably more selfish than for the good of Asheville. He’s not a public servant kind of guy. Selfless is not in his vocabulary.

“When the head is used, what happens to it?” I asked. “Shouldn’t there be a head here somewhere?”

“Oh, heavens no,” Flip answered. “The blood ghast would devour it to maintain its corporeal form long enough to wait for victims to arrive. Once the victims arrive, and are penetrated to create, well, this, then it is free to move on to the task it was summoned for.”

“Which would be?” Ducheré asked. There was a mix of respect and disdain on her face as she stared down at the gnome. “You seem to know so much, please tell me the purpose of all of this violence.”

“How would I know that?” Flip replied.

“You already suspected there was a blood ghast involved,” Ducheré said. “You weren’t in the least surprised when you arrived here. So, please, expound on your theories. I assume you have one. Perhaps you know who may be involved?”

“I, uh, well,” Flip stuttered as he looked over at me.

Goddammit, Flip.

“Mr. Lawter,” Ducheré said, switching her focus to me. “This is where you come in.”

“Mr. Lawter, please do not answer any questions,” Flip said.

“Not going to,” I said. “Listen, Special Agent, I see what you were trying to do here. You said mine and Harper’s names were in that old file and you were hoping there was a connection between that case and this one. Except that’s not true, is it?”

“Oh, it is true,” Ducheré replied. “Your names are in that file.”

“Yeah, I’m not disputing that,” I said. “I’m disputing the reason you wanted us to see this. Hoping for some shock value so we’d spill whatever beans you think we’re holding.”

“Mr. Lawter, please stop talking,” Flip said.

“Yeah, you’re goddamn right I’m going to stop talking, Flip,” I said. “Because I’m leaving.” I spread my hands. “Your mess, not mine. See ya.”

I turned and followed the hex lines to the stairs. Harper and Lassa were right behind. The two guards at the top of the stairs spun about and blocked our way, but Ducheré cleared her throat and they moved aside. We were down those stairs and out of that building as fast as we could move without looking like we were fleeing the scene. Poor Flip struggled to keep up.

When we hit the sidewalk, Willitz caught sight of us and walked our way.

“Fuck off, detective,” I snapped. “I don’t like being played. Especially not by someone that I said I’d do a favor for just this morning.”

We were across the street and ducking back into the side alley before he could think to respond.

“Chase?” Harper asked.

“They know I hid that head for Chappy,” I said. “They also know the One Guy is involved. Ten to one they have him stashed in an interrogation room right now.”

“So? Screw that guy,” Lassa said. “Let him rot in that room, dude.”

“I plan to,” I replied. “I also plan on finding out why he’s there, why he wants that kobold head, and why my ass is involved in all of this.”

“Our asses,” Harper said. “I’m in that old file too.”

“And we’re a team, so my ass is involved,” Lassa said. “And it is quite the ass.”

“Flip? You coming back to the office too?” I asked as I looked down at the gnome.

He had his phone out and was calling someone but he answered me. “Oh, most certainly. This is considerably worse than Ms. Sullivan thought it might get. Considerably worse.”

“Considerably worse than an entire hotel floor coated in blood and covered by exploded corpses?”

“Yes.”

“Well, shit . . .”

5.

“MR. LAWTER,” TERESA Sullivan, our company’s attorney, grumbled as we came in through our office door. Like the rest of the lawyers in her firm, Teresa was a banshee. Banshees were incredibly good at law and except for Earth, they had cornered the legal market in pretty much every dimension. “I was hoping to go a day before seeing you, yet Flip’s alarm at what he witnessed has killed that hope.”

“You got here fast,” I said as I walked past her semi-corporeal form and went to my desk. I plopped down and yanked open a drawer as I hunted for something to eat.

“Here you go, Chase,” Sharon said as she set a large tray of cheese, crackers, and fruit before me. “I have sandwiches on the way, since Thai food is not happening, but this should tide you over. It’s everything we had in the break room fridge.”

“Thanks, Shar,” I replied. “I appreciate it.”

“Me too,” Harper said as she grabbed a hunk of Gouda and popped it into her mouth.

“Is that Gruyère? I love Gruyère,” Lassa said as he pilfered from the pile as well.

“Mitts off, assholes,” I snapped, hunching over the plate. “I’m the guy that worked the Dim earlier, not you.”

Speaking of working the Dim.

All eyes went to Chappy, who was still sitting in one of the waiting area chairs and trying to look as small as possible. He flinched under our collective glare.

“What?” he asked.

“What? You have got to be kidding me,” I replied around a mouthful of cheese and crackers.

“Chase, please chew first,” Sharon said. She’d gone to the mini-fridge by her desk and fetched a small jar of pig’s blood, which she was slowly sipping through a straw. “Talking with your mouth full is disgusting.”

I let the irony of that statement go.

“You don’t know who hired you to deliver that kobold head?” I asked Chappy.

“No, man, I don’t,” he replied. “You gotta believe me.”

“I don’t gotta do shit, asshole. I especially don’t have to give you that kobold head back.”

“It’s mine, Lawter! I have a receipt for the Dim key you gave me! I give you that key and you have to give me the head! That’s how it works, Lawter!”

“Oh, you’re giving me the key, but I’m not giving you the head. You haven’t paid the balance of your invoice, Chappy. The bill is due and you’re behind. Contract null and void, you little piece of shit.” I held out my hand. “Key. Now.”

“No,” Chappy said, and crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child. “Not gonna give it to you.”

“You will if you want to keep those crossed arms of yours. Lassa? You in a tearing-off mood?”

“Sure, dude,” Lassa replied.

“There is no need for that,” Teresa said. “I helped write all client clauses in your contracts.”

“I ain’t never signed no fucking contract,” Chappy said, petulant child act dialed up to eleven.

“You did not sign, but you may want to read your receipt, Mr. Reginue,” Teresa said as she smiled. That smile was so cold I could feel the air in the office drop by a few degrees. Literally. “By accepting possession of that receipt, you agreed to all terms and conditions of doing business with Black Box Inc. Your default on payment means the key now belongs to Black Box Inc. and you will relinquish control of it this second.”

“Or what?” Chappy asked. “Huh? You can’t rip my arms off because I’m late on my payment. Magic shit or no magic shit, that’s still assault.”

“Yes, well, perhaps I can give you a more convincing argument, then,” Teresa said.

Her normal slight glow became bright blue. Those flowing robes and gowns she wore billowed out until they filled the entire waiting area. Her light grew brighter and brighter, so bright we had to shield our eyes.

Except for Chappy. He stared at Teresa with rapt attention, his eyes so big I thought they’d pop out of his head and roll to the lawyer’s feet. Then he began to cringe, shake, shudder, and finally cry out.

“Stop!” he screamed as he slapped his hands over his ears. “Please! Jesus fucking Christ! I’ll give you the key, just stop wailing at me!”

“Well, that is nice to know,” Sharon said as Teresa began to grow dim again. “Our hex barrier blocks banshee wails. It was designed to, but it is good to see it in practice.”

“Would’ve sucked for us if it didn’t,” Harper said.

“Totally,” Lassa agreed.

Chappy stood up on shaky legs and fished the Dim key out of his back pocket. He held it out.

“Thank you, Mr. Reginue,” Teresa said as she took the key. “Next time, take a lawyer’s advice when it is given freely.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will, sure,” Chappy said and collapsed back into his chair. “I’m glad to be rid of the fucking thing. The One Guy will be here any second. Not my problem anymore.”

“The One Guy isn’t coming,” Teresa said. “But, you are correct. It is no longer your problem. You will be leaving now.”

“Hold the hell on. You’re letting him leave?” I said. “The scumbag knows more than he’s told us.”

“I agree, Mr. Lawter,” Teresa said. “Which is why Flip will accompany him back to my firm where two of my associates will question him until they are quite positive they have gotten every single ounce of information possible.”

“What?” Chappy asked.

“Best not to resist, Mr. Reginue,” Teresa said. “Go with Flip here or you and I will have another conversation.”

“No, I’m good,” Chappy said and got warily to his feet. “No need to chat no more. I’m going.”

He stuck to the edge of the waiting area, skirting the space in front of Teresa, then followed the gnome out of the office.

“I could go with,” Harper said. “Make sure the prick doesn’t try anything on Flip.”

“Flip is more than capable of taking care of himself against a human like Chappy Reginue,” Teresa said. “Or against anything else that might be interested in the reprobate.”

“Reprobate. Good word,” Lassa snickered.

“How much more do you think Chappy knows?” I asked.

“In all honesty, probably not much,” Teresa said. “Sharon filled me in on everything he said and I highly doubt a piece of trash like him would ever be told more than what he needed to know to make a delivery. The fact he botched the delivery is proof of that.”

“Then why question him?”

“To make him squirm and to make anyone watching his comings and goings curious,” Teresa said. She held out the Dim key and Sharon hurried over to take it. “Keep that very safe. If a blood ghast is on the loose in Asheville then we will need that kobold head very soon to banish the beast back to its dimension.”

Sharon gave me the key and I opened a small drawer in my desk where there were several other stray Dim keys. I was the only one that could open the drawer and I was the only one that knew what all of those keys went to. I had a couple of contingency plans in place. Just in case.

“You said the One Guy isn’t coming here,” I said. “That special agent said something similar. What’s up?”

“I am not one hundred percent sure, so I would rather not speculate,” Teresa said. “What I can say is the One Guy is in the DEX’s custody currently. For what reason, I do not know. I have my paralegals working on the details now. I will let you know what I find out.”

“Um, and, how much will that information cost us?” Sharon asked.

“Not as much as you fear. A blood ghast is a dangerous creature to have on the loose. It is in my firm’s interest to see it captured and banished. But we all must share in the cost of that endeavor.”

“Must we?” Sharon asked. Teresa gave her a blank look. Sharon sighed. “Yes, yes, of course we must.”

“My job is done here for now,” Teresa said as she flattened the front of her gown and gave us all a smile that thankfully didn’t freeze our hearts in our chests. She nodded at Sharon. “I will send you the invoice in the morning for work done today.”

“Wait? That’s it?” I asked. “You aren’t going to tell us the rest of what you know?”

“I know what you know, Mr. Lawter,” Teresa said. “Unless you want to enlist my firm officially, and pay for all of the investigative charges, then you will need to figure much of this out on your own.”

“No, no, don’t send an invoice. We are more than capable of handling our end,” Sharon said. She gave me a sharp look. “Right, Chase?”

“Sure,” I said. “Thanks for swinging by, I guess.”

“My pleasure,” Teresa said then left.

We watched her glowing form through the office windows until she was out of sight then turned to look at each other.

“The One Guy,” I said first.

“Everything centers around his fuzzy-faced ass,” Harper said.

“The Feds have him,” Lassa said. “Why?”

“Good question,” I said. Sharon only blinked a few times. “Oh, shit, sorry, Shar.”

We proceeded to fill her in on everything we knew. Which, admittedly, wasn’t goddamn much.

“I believe we need to start with the blood ghast,” Sharon said. “What is it and what is its purpose.”

“I can answer some of that,” Harper said. “But over drinks and food.”

“I hear that,” I said and crammed a few crackers in my mouth as I stood.

“Taps & Tapas?” Lassa asked then smirked. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist, dude.”

“Goddamn funny,” I said, almost choking on the crackers. I really needed to repair things with Iris if we were ever going to get the ban lifted from us. I could have gone for some Taps & Tapas right then. “Where else?”

“The Raven’s Perch?” Harper asked.

She rummaged through her desk and pulled out her Magnum, a .45 semi-automatic, a second .45, two extra knives, and her favorite weapon in the world—the goblin sickle. Polished wood handle with a curved blade sharpened to a point that could slice dragon hide. Nothing could survive the goblin blade in Harper’s hands.

Harper placed the weapons in various holsters and sheaths, most of them hexed so they eliminated the extra weight, then looked at us. “Ready?”

“Raven’s Perch?” I asked the others.

“That area is a little dark for my taste,” Sharon said. “But if everyone else is fine going there . . .”

“Works for me,” Lassa said. “Those twins bartend there.”

“You want a weapon?” Harper asked him.

“Nah,” Lassa said and stretched his arms out, his muscles plain to see. “I’m already armed.”

“Jesus,” Harper muttered then looked at me. “Chase?”

I held out my hands and created a two-foot long rod of pure Dim for each. They looked like swirling smoke, but they were hard as titanium. “I’m good.”

A flick of my wrist and the rods poofed back to the space between dimensions.

“All right. Let’s get our drink on,” Harper said. “But, so we are clear, there is a blood ghast out there and someone summoned it to Asheville. I’m calling this a high security situation, so everyone listens to me when I say to listen to me. No exceptions. Lassa?”

“What?” he asked, looking confused. “What did I do?”

“That means whatever flirt fest you have going on stops the second I say it does.”

“Dude, chill. Blood ghast bad, I get that.”

“Then we’re in agreement?” Harper looked at each of us in turn.

“We’re in agreement,” I said. “Come on. I’m freaking starving.”

Sharon said something about eating the office’s stock of cheese and crackers, but I ignored her as we left the office and headed towards one of the least touristy areas of downtown Asheville. At least for humans.

6.

THE RAVEN’S PERCH was situated on a small street that used to be an alley, but was opened up to one lane, one way traffic during the 1990s’ rejuvenation of Asheville’s downtown. The lane’s name was technically Short Court Lane, but everyone in town called it Short Corpse Lane.

With good reason.

When the extradimensional happening opened up the portals, it wasn’t like the many beings that came through were embraced with open arms. Humans are one of the most bigoted of species in all the Universe. We fear the unknown and even the known. We pretty much fear everything.

But, it being Asheville, some enterprising entrepreneurs quickly realized there was a niche to be filled. A space for extradimensional beings to be themselves was in high demand and the few store fronts on Short Corpse Lane were turned into a bar, a cafe, a retail clothing shop, and an ice cream parlor. Every being liked ice cream. Simple goddamn fact.

The thing was, Short Corpse Lane was called Short Corpse Lane because it was where the junkies in town dumped their dead friends after unfortunate, and inevitable, ODs. There was a bit of a dead body problem, no matter how much the city tried to stop it.

That’s where the Sweepers came in.

No one knows what dimension they are from. I’ve sat down with some well-traveled shamans of many species and they cannot say what the origins of the Sweepers are. All anyone knows is one day they weren’t there, one day they were, and the corpse problem disappeared. Or the Sweepers made the corpses disappear. Junkies still OD, but the dumped bodies didn’t stay on the lane’s cobblestones for long.

“They make me . . . uncomfortable,” Sharon said as we turned the corner onto Short Corpse Lane. “They do know I am not a corpse they can take, yes?”

“You walk and talk, Shar,” I said when we grew close to one of the beings as it stood stock still a few feet down from the corner of the first building. “I think they know the difference between undead and dead dead.”

“I certainly hope so,” Sharon replied.

The Sweeper was dressed in all black. No Grim Reaper cloak, but simple pants, a simple shirt, black leather boots, and a hat that looked like a mix between a bowler and a fedora. The being’s face was obscured by a filmy gauze that hung down from all sides of the hat’s brim, so that all that could be seen was the occasional twinkle of its pure white eyes when the light caught them just right.

Clutched in its hands was a broom that looked like what a thirteenth century witch would ride while silhouetted by a full moon. All rough, thick bristles and gnarled, twisted handle cut from a dead oak tree.

“Evening,” Harper said as we passed the being.

“Ms. Kyles,” the Sweeper replied. “A good evening to you.” The Sweeper nodded its head and watched us pass by.

“Sweepers aren’t so bad,” Harper said as we wove around a group of young bog sprites that were busy window shopping in front of the clothing shop. “All you gotta do is be polite.”

The bog sprites stank of the rot of ancient wood, moss, and peat, despite the immense amounts of perfume they’d doused themselves in to mask the smell. Sharon gagged and caught more than a few glares as we moved along past the ice cream shop, which was packed to capacity with various creatures and beings, and on to the Raven’s Perch.

“Cal,” Harper said to a rock troll seated on an oversized bar stool by the bar’s door. The guy’s torso was as big as a Mini Cooper with proportionately massive arms and legs. “How’s it hanging?”

“Rock hard,” Cal replied then nodded to Lassa. “Lassa. Twins are bartending tonight.”

“Nice. Thanks, Cal,” Lassa said.

“Defiler of dimensions,” Cal said to me. “Not gonna cause trouble, is ya?”

“Screw you, Cal,” I said.

Defiler of dimensions. No one says it with capital D’s. Lower case insult all the way.

Beings, no matter what dimension they are from, spend a lifetime, sometimes longer, perfecting the art of communing with the Dim. Each trying to find that bliss of nothingness. The Dim is there, but not there. Across the dimensions, the Dim is sacred space. Or non-space.

But, as far as anyone knows, I’m the only one that can do what I do. I’m the only one that can manipulate it. And that ticks off the high mucky-mucks of every single extradimensional religion, spiritual sect, and church group. I’m the defiler of dimensions because my nasty, dirty, human hands play with something that others say no one is supposed to play with.

“Just messin’ with ya, Lawter,” Cal said and patted me on the shoulder, nearly breaking my bones. “Y’all have a good time. Half price well drinks.” He winked at Sharon. “That includes blood drinks, Ms. Spaglioni.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Cal,” Sharon said as she blushed. That’s quite a sight to see, a zombie blushing. “Have a nice night, Cal.”

He smiled and revealed teeth larger than my fingers. Cal didn’t have to, but he stood up and opened the door for us, making it very apparent that Sharon should go in first. We let her. Quick way to ruin a night is to offend a rock troll when he’s being gentlemanly.

Inside was a dark bar, wood paneling everywhere, with a heavy speakeasy vibe. Lots of beaded lamp shades and quiet corners. The mood was subdued and the few patrons there that early in the evening barely looked up as we came in.

Along the wall to our left was a long bar with two siblings of opposite sex, both gorgeous, working behind it. They stopped what they were doing, which was washing glasses, and gave Lassa two identically wicked grins. He returned the grins and gave them a wink. You could see them almost melt right there and then.

On a small stage set against the far wall was one messed-up looking creature. Humanish face, body of a tiger, and eight spider-like arms, the being sat on the floor of the stage and was playing some traditional Appalachian instrumental tune on two guitars at once. Harper gave the thing a quick wave and the creature nodded once without missing a note.

“Over here,” Harper said and led us to a table up against the wall with a long bench seat we could all sit on and face the door. Harper took the right end with me next to her, then Sharon, and Lassa capping us off on the left. Protective formation.

I looked from Harper to the stage and back.

“Aki. He’s tsuchigumo,” Harper said. “He moved into town last month and his roommate and I go way back.”

“Who’s his roommate?” I asked.

“Patty Hennesy.”

“Oh, right, I remember Patty. She used to be a crackhead.”

“Emphasis on the used to be,” Harper said. “Cleaned up right after the extradimensional happening.”

“Is this the same Patty Hennesy that works for Social Services?” Sharon asked.

“Yeah. That’s her,” Harper replied.

“Oh, she’s lovely. Absolutely lovely,” Sharon said as her face lit up with a wide smile. “She helped me get settled in Asheville when I immigrated to Earth. I had no idea she used to be an addict.”

“We knew her from our street days,” I said. “I forgot she got her shit together. And I didn’t know you stayed in touch with her.”

“I keep tabs on all the old street kids,” Harper said. “Never know when you need a contact.”

“I try to forget those days,” I said.

“No shit,” Harper replied as a waiter walked over to our table. “Speaking of forgetting, we need drinks. Many, many drinks. Wash that bloody scene out of our heads.”

The waiter paused at Harper’s words, but only briefly. “Good evening, folks. Good to see y’all. Not Taps & Tapas tonight?”

“Chase got us banned,” Harper said.

“Ouch. What’ll it be for you all?”

“Jasper . . . ?” Lassa raised an eyebrow. “You have your mojo turned down tonight. What’s up, dude?”

“New manager,” Jasper said as he shrugged. He was about six feet tall and had an eastern European handsomeness to him, all dark eyes with a pronounced nose and cheekbones. “He insists I mute my incubus charms while working. Says it’s an unfair advantage over the customers.”

“There go your tips,” Lassa said.

“No shit,” Jasper replied with another shrug. “Anyway, what’s your poison?”

“Whatever is fresh,” Sharon said.

“Pomegranate juice and blood martini for the lovely lady,” Jasper replied then turned his attention to Harper. “Harp?”

“Any new moonshine I should know about?” Harper asked.

“No, sorry. With the legit distilleries putting out so much product, our under the table guys are going belly up. Haven’t seen the real still shine in a couple months.”

“Then bourbon,” Harper said.

“I’ll take whatever your darkest stout is on tap,” I said. “And a round of appetizers.”

“Which ones?” Jasper asked.

“All of them. Two each. Big tip if you get the kitchen to expedite.”

“You got it,” Jasper said as he gave us a quick bow of his head. “Apps soon and drinks sooner. Give a holler if you need me.”

He left and I relaxed into the bench seat.

“Blood ghast,” I said.

A couple tables away, two women stopped talking and glanced my way. Something rippled underneath their skin and their lips curled up with disdain.

“Maybe a little quieter,” Harper said. “No one likes hearing about a blood ghast.”

“Tough goddamn shit,” I said. “We came here to talk.”

“I came here to drink,” Harper replied.

“Harp . . .”

“Sorry. Yeah. They can deal.”

“They can,” I said. “All right. Anyone at this table buying that the Feds are here by accident when a blood ghast happens to show up? They jumped on that crime scene fast. I can see local PD handing it over to Willitz, but there has to be something else going on for Willitz to hand it over to the Feds like he did. The guy didn’t even come upstairs with us.”

“Feds were already in town because of dragons?” Lassa asked and then answered his own question. “No way. Dragons are easy to talk to. You don’t need special agents for that.”

“Exactly,” I said. “And when Willitz hauled me in a couple weeks ago over the Iris thing, the Feds were watching from behind the one-way glass.”

“You saw them?” Sharon asked.

“No, but you heard what Ducheré said. She was there. Willitz was having to put on a goddamn show. Asking me all about how I work the Dim and insisting I spell it out like he didn’t know already.”

“Sketchy,” Harper said.

“Mucho,” Lassa agreed.

Jasper arrived with our drinks and I pointed a finger at him.

“Uh oh,” he said. “What’d I do?”

“Nothing, pal. It’s all good, but I have a question,” I said.

“Shoot.”

“You’re an incubus. Does that mean you only deal in sexual energy or blood too?”

“Incubi and succubi primarily feed off the sexual energy of willing, and sometimes unwilling, partners,” Jasper said then looked around and leaned over the table. “But, we can be vampiric if we have to be. I don’t dig it, but some of the brothers and sisters do.”

“So you know about blood,” I said.

“Chase. Huh-uh,” Harper warned.

“What? Maybe he knows”—

“About the blood ghast?” Jasper asked, still low and close so only we could hear. “The rumors started spreading after lunch today. Warnings are getting around town fast. You were right to ask.”

“Damn right I was,” I said.

“Down boy,” Harper said. “What warnings?”

“Blood creatures are especially susceptible to blood ghast possession,” Jasper said like it was common knowledge.

Sharon gave a quiet squeak of fear. If she didn’t know that tidbit of information then I’d hardly say it was common knowledge. Jasper glanced at her and scrunched up his face.

“Not so sure zombies count, Sharon,” he said. “Maybe they do.”

“Possession? Grab a chair and talk,” Harper said in a voice that offered zero room for argument.

“Bigger tip,” I said.

Jasper thought about it then pushed back from our table and held up a hand. “Let me check on your apps first. I’ll be right back.”

“Sometimes you have to be blunt and ask a question,” I said, rather smug about my questioning. “Now we get to learn something new about blood ghasts.”

The front door burst open and Cal came stumbling inside, his face bone white and his arms waving at everyone like he was trying to tell us to run.

Then he exploded.

Blood, guts, and rock troll hide went everywhere. And from out of the mess rose one ugly-ass phantom.

“Goddammit,” I snarled.

7.

THE BLOOD GHAST was quite possibly one of the ugliest things I’d ever seen.

Shit brown skin, bright orange eyes without pupils, spindly arms that ended in razor sharp clawed hands, a skinny body that tapered down to a swirling point like some storybook genie. It hovered in the air a couple feet off the ground as the last of Cal dripped from its body.

Harper was up and jumping over our table, pistol drawn, before I could even think of putting together my Dim rods. Lassa was right behind her, his hand out, waiting to be armed. Harper obliged and slapped a ten inch blade into his palm.

“Stay here,” I said to Sharon as the Dim formed from my palms into two two-foot long rods. “But run if you have to. We don’t know for sure if zombies count as blood creatures.”

Sharon didn’t respond. She was too busy hiding under the table. Good for her.

I left our table and made my way to the bar, looking to flank the blood ghast that had exploded out of Cal’s body. Goddammit. I liked Cal. He was good troll.

“What do you have back there?” I shouted as I drew close to the bar.

The siblings popped up from behind, each with a pump-action shotgun. They racked shells into chambers and put the butts to their shoulders in perfect synchronicity. Too perfect. They had to be fraternal twins with a connection as strong as dopplers’. Although the twins would have to be considerably more intelligent than those muscle-bound morons.

I had no idea what species the twins were—they looked human enough, but I’d once watched them take down a drunk group of river elves with their bare fists, which made me think that their looks were deceiving. Seeing them armed made me feel one helluva lot better about our odds.

“Nice,” I said to the twins.

Then that happy feeling went away as the blood ghast grabbed two patrons running for the front door. Claws dug into bellies and the monster’s hands slid up inside the patrons’ rib cages. Then it slammed the unfortunate victims into each other and their bodies exploded on impact.

“Down!” the twins shouted as Harper and Lassa reached the blood ghast.

No hesitation from either of them. Harper and Lassa fell to the floor a half-second before the twins opened fire with the shotguns. They unloaded on the blood ghast and the monster shook and shuddered, its body coming apart into shit brown bits as the slugs hit. Yeah, the twins were using slugs, not shot. They were prepared for big problems. The happy feeling started to come back.

Then the happy feeling left again as the shotguns clicked empty simultaneously and the blood ghast turned those orange eyes on the twins. The monster’s body reassembled, parts flying to it as it flew across the bar at the twins, razor sharp claws swiping left and right.

“Nope!” Harper shouted as she stood up and put four rounds into the back of the blood ghast’s head once it was past her.

The thing’s ugly noggin disappeared, giving the twins time to retreat from behind the bar. I didn’t waste the opportunity either and joined them as they raced towards the back of the room. The last of the few patrons were several steps ahead of us, sprinting towards the kitchen door. Jasper was standing there, ushering them through.

“Get out the back!” I yelled.

“There is no back!” Jasper yelled then was gone into the kitchen.

I could hear the sound of heavy equipment being shoved against the door. Then my attention was drawn back to the main room as the blood ghast shrieked. The monster had the beginnings of a head again. Bits and pieces were floating up from the floor and reassembling on its shoulders.

The twins were next to me, each reloading their shotguns, as I held my Dim rods up and out to ward off the monster.

“We have to draw it outside!” Harper yelled.

The blood ghast hesitated at the sound of her voice, but maintained its course right at me.

“Suggestions are welcome!” I yelled back at Harper.

The thing was on me before she could respond. I ducked a claw swipe and jammed the end of one of my Dim rods into its midsection. The monster cried out and retreated a couple feet. Its orange eyes went wide and it slapped at the spot where I’d struck. The shit brown skin was turning black and oozing pus that was even blacker.

“Ha!” I shouted and moved in for the attack. It could be hurt by Dim.

I brought my other Dim rod down across the blood ghast’s left shoulder and it shrieked at me. One of the twins grabbed my arm and yanked me backwards which saved my life as a claw swipe split the air where I’d been standing a millisecond before.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

The blood ghast shrieked once more and slapped at its shoulder. The same black pus was oozing from the second spot. That good news was mixed with bad news as I glanced at the first wound I caused. The pus was gone and the wound was healing. Fast.

Dim hurt it, but not for long.

“Shit,” I said and started moving to my right, the twins following right behind, their shotguns aimed at the monster.

“I have a plan!” Sharon yelled.

“A good one?” I yelled back.

“I do not know! Lassa! Get its attention and draw it outside! Then give us time to get back to the office before you lure it there!”

“To the office?” Lassa cried.

“I know what she’s up to!” Harper yelled. “Do it!”

Lassa picked up a chair and threw it at the blood ghast, but the monster ignored the attack as the piece of furniture exploded across the thing’s back. What it didn’t ignore was Lassa taking the knife Harper had given him and drawing it across his forearm. Yeti blood welled then began to drip to the gore coated floor.

“That’s a goddamn shitty plan!” I yelled as the monster spun about and raced towards Lassa.

Harper put six shots into the thing’s face and its head was once again gone. That slowed it enough for Lassa to turn and run from the bar with Harper right on his tail. They were out the door in a blink, the headless blood ghast in hot pursuit.

“How the fuck is that a plan?” I shouted at Sharon as the front door swung shut.

“Here is how,” Sharon said and held up her phone. “I called Teresa. Flip is meeting us at the office.”

“So?”

“So, we have a kobold head there and Flip is bringing a book with the ritual in it that will banish the blood ghast,” Sharon said as she crawled out from under the table. “But we must hurry. That nightmare cannot remain loose on the streets.”

“Ya goddamn think?”

“It is a sound plan,” the twins said in unison.

“Go,” the brother said.

“We’ll tell the police what happened,” the sister said.

“Shit,” I said and dissolved my Dim rods. “Thanks.”

I hurried over to Sharon and she gave me a puzzled look.

“Those would have been helpful,” she said.

“They drain energy,” I replied pushing her forward. “We need to run, not fight.”

“Oh, yes, true,” she replied.

We ran to the front door and burst out onto Short Corpse Lane. The bog sprites were long gone. All of the tourists were long gone and the street was empty. Far off to the west I heard a scream then Lassa’s yeti roar. The office was to the east and I took off running, pulling Sharon along as I grabbed her hand.

We passed two Sweepers along the way and they each tipped their hats to us as they headed for the Raven’s Perch. There was a body to clean up inside. A few bodies. Or more precisely—body parts.

We rounded the corner and nearly slammed into a dazed looking tourist couple on Battery Park Avenue. Normal humans from the way they stood there with nothing but pure terror on their faces. Asheville’s weird got a little too scary for them.

I pushed past the couple and led us down the street towards our office. We were only three blocks away, but a lot can happen in three blocks. Far off, sirens sounded as well as another scream. Then another. And another. No yeti roar.

“They’ll be fine, Chase,” Sharon said, hardly sounding convinced, as we sprinted to the next corner and turned onto Haywood Street. “They will be.”

“I know,” I said, but I didn’t. Shotgun slugs, my Dim rods, several rounds from Harper’s Magnum didn’t stop the monster. My confidence wasn’t exactly boiling over.

The sidewalks had been cleared of the buskers and street performers knew when to call it a night in the face of imminent danger. Without entertainment to gawk at, the evening’s strolling tourists had taken their cash and credit cards into the many restaurants and bars that lined the street, oblivious to the real reason the guy painted silver and the bluegrass trios had abandoned their hard-earned territories.

The sirens grew closer and three Asheville PD cruisers raced past us in the opposite direction just as we reached our street. I saw Flip standing outside our office, a massive book in his tiny hands. He was hopping from foot to foot as he waited impatiently.

“We do not have much time!” he called as we closed the distance to our office’s front door.

Sharon had keys out and was unlocking the door as a shriek drew my attention away from the office. I looked up and down the street, but didn’t see the blood ghast.

“Oh, my,” Flip gasped and I followed his gaze.

Floating above the ledge of the building across the street was the blood ghast. Its orange eyes locked onto me and it dove. Fast.

“Sharon!” I snarled. “Open door. Now.”

“I am!” Sharon cried and I heard the small click of the lock.

I shoved Flip in after her and was about to follow, but I knew the timing was off. I brought out the Dim rods again and swung them both as the blood ghast was about to collide with me. One rod caught it across the cheek and knocked it off its course. It slammed into the front window of our office and the glass shattered everywhere. Which wasn’t supposed to happen since the glass was hexed.

“Chase!” Sharon screamed from inside.

Goddammit . . .

I burst through the front door and threw a Dim rod at the back of the blood ghast. Before the rod left my hand I altered its form slightly so that what hit the monster’s back was more of a machete than a rod. It stuck solid between the thing’s shoulder blades.

The shriek the monster let loose sent me down to one knee. I thought my ears were going to start bleeding.

“Get your ass up, Chase,” a voice said from my side.

Two ice cold hands gripped me by the shoulders and lifted me to my feet.

Travis.

An old friend. A shapeshifter. And until a couple weeks ago, a living being. But he had his heart ripped out, literally, by the head of the faerie mafia, and now he was a ghost. Which made his being able to grab and pick me up a little confusing.

“You’re the only one that can get the head,” Travis said. “Pull it from the Dim. I’ll handle the blood ghast.”

I didn’t argue or waste time asking why he was here now.

As the blood ghast struggled to pull the Dim machete from its back, Travis leapt onto the thing and wrapped his incorporeal arms around the monster’s throat and neck. More shrieking, but not send-me-to-my-knees volume, followed. I ignored the painful noise and rushed around the grappling beings to my desk where Sharon and Flip were huddled next to each other.

I yanked open my key drawer, shoved my hand into the pile of Dim bits inside until I was able to vibe the right one. I pulled out the specific Dim key and brought the kobold head to me. A box appeared on top of my desk and I flicked the Dim key against the swirling black smoke of its surface. The box vanished, leaving only a fairly rotten kobold head.

“What now?” I asked Flip.

“You must stab your fingers through the eye sockets and repeat after me,” Flip said.

“Goddammit,” I grumbled as I shoved the first two fingers of my right hand into the severed head’s eye sockets. The putrid eyeballs burst and the stink was sickening. “Now what?”

There was a shout and a crash then Flip said, “Oh, no, not good.”

I looked away from the kobold head to see Travis’s body halfway through the wall of the office and the blood ghast speeding at us.

8.

“WHAT DO I SAY?” I shouted at Flip.

“We do not have time!” Flip cried.

Big booms. The blood ghast lost most of its midsection as Harper leapt through the shattered window, Magnum blasting away. Lassa was right behind her and sprinted at the blood ghast, leaping into the air with something in his right hand.

The goblin sickle.

Lassa slashed down and the blood ghast was split in two, both halves dropping to the floor of our office like two tons of bricks.

“Say the words, dude!” Lassa yelled as he stood over the blood ghast and began hacking away at it. Pieces of the monster flew this way and that, but none stayed still for long. They began to wiggle and move back toward each other. “It never stays apart! Start chanting!”

“Flip!” I yelled.

“Asgomoth fornum!” Flip cried.

I copied that.

“Hospot’oth liphorium!”

More copying.

“Spelternum gos mal!”

I said those words and the kobold head burst apart. Then it was like time had stopped and the hundreds of bits of kobold skull, scalp, and brains froze in midair.

“Move!” Harper cried and yanked Lassa away from the blood ghast.

The dismembered monster became whole instantly then shrieked at full volume again as it was sucked straight at the frozen kobold bits. As the nightmare got closer it began to shrink and shrink until it was small enough to fit inside the shattered kobold head. The moment the blood ghast was dead center, the stopped time ended and the kobold head reassembled then blinked out of existence, leaving our ears ringing and eyes wide.

“That’s it?” I asked Flip.

“Apparently so,” Flip said.

“Apparently? Pal, apparently ain’t gonna goddamn cut it!”

“Yes, that is it,” Flip said as his eyes scanned the open book. “That particular blood ghast is banished from this dimension forever.”

“That particular blood ghast?” I asked. “What does that mean?”

“Yeah, dude, how many more are we talking?” Lassa asked as he limped over to his desk and sat down hard enough to almost crack his chair.

“I am unsure how many more,” Flip said. “I only know that Ms. Sullivan has been on the phone with the DEX and this blood ghast attack is far from singular.”

“Well, that’s just goddamn great,” I said and sat down.

I rummaged around in my desk until I found what I was looking for. Special Agent Ducheré’s card.

My phone was a shattered mess when I pulled it out of my pocket.

“Here,” Sharon said. She tossed me her phone then went to her mini-fridge and opened it, pulling out a jar of pig’s blood. She downed half the jar and slumped into her own chair. “Ahhhh . . .”

“Good idea,” Harper said, walking to a cabinet on the wall where we kept the liquor.

“Hello?” Travis’s muffled voice called out. “A little help?”

We turned and looked at his ghostly backside.

“When did he show up?” Lassa asked.

With an immense amount of effort, Lassa pushed up from his chair and went to Travis. He grabbed the ghost by the legs and pulled. Lassa’s hands almost went through Travis’s form, but the legs solidified enough that Lassa could get a grip and pull Travis free.

“Thanks,” Travis said as he shook all over like a dog drying off. “That was different.”

“You’re different,” I said, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You’re dead and should be acting like a ghost. The way you tackled that blood ghast was not ghostlike and neither was getting stuck in a wall. Talk.”

“Yeah, dude, I shouldn’t have been able to grab you,” Lassa said, returning to his chair.

“Then why try?” I asked him.

“Who am I to refuse grabbing an ass like that?” Lassa smirked.

“Shapeshifter,” Travis said, rolling his eyes at Lassa. “We die differently. We ghost differently. Something to do with our control of our molecules.”

“Whatever,” Harper said as she pulled the cork from a nice bottle of rye and took a swig. She tossed the bottle to Lassa who swigged as well. “Let’s not make it about you right now, Travis. Chase? Call Ducheré and get her ass over here.”

“My thoughts exactly,” I said and dialed the special agent’s number.

“Ducheré speaking.”

“Ducheré? Chase Lawter. We banished a blood ghast and would really, really, really fucking like to have a chat with you. How fast can you get to my office?”

“Eh hem,” Sharon said.

“Our office,” I corrected and put my hand over the phone’s mic. “Sorry, Shar.”

She shrugged.

“Mr. Lawter, is everyone all right?”

“We’re all in one piece, yeah. How fast can you get here?”

“Two seconds?”

“Do what?”

“One second?”

“Goddammit, stop messing with me,” I snapped.

“Not messing with you, Mr. Lawter,” Ducheré said as she stood outside our shattered front window. She was quickly joined by six more DEX agents. “May I come in?”

“Please,” I said. “But use the door. Wouldn’t want you to cut yourself.”

“Watch the area,” Ducheré said to the other agents then came in through our open front door. No one had bothered to shut it since we were missing most of the front of our office anyway.

The agents turned and guarded our office as Ducheré walked towards us. Then she came up short and grabbed her nose. “Ow.”

“That’s interesting,” Harper said. She was busy retrieving the goblin sickle and pulling a cleaning cloth from her desk when Ducheré cried out. Harper lifted the sickle so Ducheré could get a good look. “Chase invited you in, but the security hex stopped you from passing the barrier. That means you have ill intent, Special Agent. I’m in a mood to kill some ill intent.”

“Harper, be calm,” Sharon said. “Threatening an agent of the Department of Extradimensional Affairs will not help the situation.”

“No, no, she is right to question my motives,” Ducheré said then reached into her blouse and pulled out the stasis ward. She unclasped the chain and set the amulet on the ground then walked past the wooden railing without a problem. “Sometimes protections counteract each other. Are we all right now, Ms. Kyles?”

“Yeah, that checks out,” Harper said and went back to cleaning the goblin sickle which was severely stained with blood ghast gunk.

Lassa held up the bottle of rye. “Care for a snort? If you do you better hurry up because this ain’t gonna last long, dude.”

“Do not refer to me as dude, please,” Ducheré said. “Some professionalism would be appreciated.”

“Oh, fuck that!” Sharon said as she finished her pig’s blood and slammed the empty jar down on her desktop.

All eyes went to her.

“Did Sharon just say fuck that to professionalism?” Lassa asked Harper soto voce.

Harper held out her hand and Lassa tossed the rye back to her. She caught it without a bobble and flicked the cork out of the top with the tip of the goblin sickle. Then she drank nearly half the bottle, burped, and squinted at Sharon.

“I’d say she’s a changeling, but I can smell those,” Harper said. She fetched the cork, replaced it, and tossed me the bottle. “Chase?”

I caught the rye and glared at Ducheré. “You broke our business manager, Ducheré. Start talking or the six tough guys you brought with you won’t make it inside by a single foot before we beat your goddamn ass six ways to Wednesday.”

“No, no, my apologies,” Sharon said over and over. “I lost my composure for a moment. Let’s not blow it out of proportion.”

“Uh, may I go now?” Flip asked. “I should return this book to the firm’s library and report to Ms. Sullivan.”

“You may return, but you will have to leave that book,” Ducheré said.

“Oh, no, I’m afraid I cannot do that,” Flip said. “This is the property of Mulkahey, Delaney, and Sullivan—Attorneys at Law. If you would like to borrow it then you will need to submit a written request to the firm or obtain a warrant.”

Ducheré reached into her suit jacket and produced a folded piece of paper. “A copy is similarly being presented to your firm’s partners as we speak. The DEX requires anything and everything regarding the summoning, banishment, and control of blood ghasts.”

“Control?” I asked then shook my head. “Of course. Otherwise that goddamn nightmare would have run rampaging through the city.”

“Uh, dude, isn’t that what happened? There’s some dead folk at the Raven’s Perch that may side on the rampage argument,” Lassa said.

“Poor Cal,” Sharon said. “He was a nice troll.”

“What? Cal’s dead?” Travis asked.

Ducheré actually jumped and spun about to regard the shapeshifter ghost. “How did I not notice you there?”

“Shapeshifter ghost,” Travis said with a shrug. “We’re different. Long story, really boring.”

Ducheré eyed him for a couple of seconds then nodded and looked back to me while also positioning herself so her back wasn’t to Travis. I respected the caution.

“It is unfortunate what happened at the Raven’s Perch tonight,” Ducheré said. “I had hoped to avoid any more bloodshed, but tracking a blood ghast is near impossible. I had my men following you, but the mayhem happened so fast, and you exited the bar in such a hurry, that there was nothing they could do but contact me and follow you here. Luckily you dispatched the creature. I do thank you for that.”

She held out her hand and turned her attention to Flip.

“The book, if you please.”

“Oh, the partners are going to be so upset,” Flip said as he handed the book over then gave us a short bow and a tip of his hat. “I’ll report to Ms. Sullivan and she will send over an invoice. I wish you all good luck.”

“Make sure she knows that we did the majority of the work,” Sharon called after the gnome. “No extra charges, Mr. Flip!”

She looked at me with a frown.

“Do you think he heard me? I do hope he heard me.”

“He heard you, Shar,” I said then took a deep breath and pointed my chin at Ducheré. “Talky time, Ducheré. You’re going to lay it all out on the table.”

She studied me for a few seconds then nodded.

“I suppose openness is the best policy at this moment,” she said. “Especially if the DEX is to employ your services.”

“Employ our services?” Sharon asked and perked up. “The DEX? Federal money? Oh, here, let me get you a chair.”

9.

SHARON SET THE cup of coffee down on the desk next to Ducheré and gave the special agent a warm, zombie smile. “Careful. It’s hot.”

“Thank you,” Ducheré said and picked up the mug. She took a long drink and didn’t flinch at the temperature. “Mmm. That is quite good.”

“Locally roasted,” Sharon said. “I can get you some bags of beans to take back with you, if you’d like.”

“The special agent can get coffee in DC, Shar,” I said. “How about we hurry this along and get to the ‘splaining, huh?”

“Yes,” Ducheré said and turned her attention to the hustle and bustle of DEX agents outside our offices. The numbers had quadrupled and it looked like the whole block had been cordoned off. “The blood ghasts have not been isolated to Asheville.”

“Ghasts?” I said.

“Great,” Harper sighed. “How many we talking about?”

“There have been fourteen incidents so far over the past two weeks,” Ducheré said. “All occurring at vortex points.”

“Vortex points? Nowhere else? Only the extradimensional portal cities?” I asked.

“Yes. Anywhere there is a Grand Hex in place,” Ducheré said. “The first was in Taos, New Mexico, followed closely by Santa Fe. Then Austin, Eugene, Burlington, Madison, and so on.”

“You said fourteen,” Harper said. “There are only twelve portal cities in the US. Have the attacks gone global?”

“No. There were three attacks in the Bay Area,” Ducheré replied. “San Francisco, Berkeley, and Oakland.”

“Oakland? I have a cousin in Oakland,” Lassa said. “I should call him and make sure he is okay.”

“Your cousin is fine. The attacks were very specific targets.”

“Specific how?” I asked, gesturing with my hand to get the show on the road. She was taking way too long. “Cut the build up and get to the story, lady.”

Ducheré bristled at the lady comment, which was my intent, but after a quick glare she continued.

“The targets were all confidential informants for the DEX. We have at least one in each area where there is a vortex point. As you know, despite the extradimensional happening only being a decade old, there are humans, and other beings, that have been aware of the portals for much longer. My department has made a point of cultivating those people and beings as CIs so we may know when and where threats may occur. Staying on top of this situation has not proven to be easy and we have needed every resource at our disposal.”

“You feed the rats,” Harper said. She held up the goblin sickle, which was sparkling clean. “You should have seen this coming. Snitches get stitches, no matter the dimension.”

“Yes, I have become painfully aware of that,” Ducheré replied. She pointed at the sickle. “That blade of yours. I would very much like my lab back in DC to—”

“Not a fucking chance in Hell, chica,” Harper snapped. “I have a friends and family policy when it comes to this baby. You ain’t either.”

“I am,” Lassa said. “I got to hack the blood ghast. It was way fun, dude.”

“You are an interesting group,” Ducheré said. “I should have looked harder before I chose my CI for Asheville. Your organization would have been a much better choice.”

“Because . . . ? Who’s your CI here?” I asked. “Can’t be a low life like Chappy or any of the lesser scumbags.”

“Why do you assume it would be a scumbag, Mr. Lawter? Helping your country against extradimensional threats should be seen as a patriotic duty, not as a sellout by common thugs.”

“Snitches. Stitches,” Harper said.

“That,” I said and gave a nod to Harper. “Not a scumbag or low life, so . . .”

It hit me fast and hard. Hard enough that the realization made me jump a little which made everyone else jump a little. I saw comprehension dawn on my friends’ faces.

“One Guy,” I said with a snarl. “Of course. It always comes down to that asshole when shit hits the fan around here.”

“Yes, well, be careful throwing stones,” Ducheré said and nodded at our shattered front window. “Glass houses and all that, Mr. Lawter. Black Box Inc. has quite the reputation for being at the center of its own shitstorms.”

“You have been talking to Willitz too much,” I said and shrugged. “But you’re probably right.”

“I certainly hope that by shitstorms, you mean we have taken on and completed very difficult jobs, leaving only satisfied clients,” Sharon said.

“Yeah, Shar, that’s exactly what she meant,” Harper said, the sarcasm so thick it was almost painful.

“No need for snark, Harper,” Sharon said and fetched herself another jar of pig’s blood. Sharon was getting her drink on.

“Your reputation for completing your jobs is solid, Ms. Spaglioni,” Ducheré said. “But, even you must admit there has been collateral damage on more than one occasion. Mr. Lawter’s lady friend for example.”

“Yeah, and me,” Travis said. “I used to be a live shapeshifter, not a ghost shapeshifter.”

“Hush, you,” Lassa said.

“Fuck this,” Travis said and winked out.

Ducheré stood up, seriously pissed off. “Carlyle!”

An agent appeared at the window almost instantly. “Yes, ma’am?”

“This office was to be locked down!”

“It is, ma’am.”

“Then how was a ghost able to get out through our hexes?”

I felt bad for Carlyle. Not too bad, but the guy obviously had no idea how to answer that question. He sputtered for half a second.

“Travis is a shapeshifter ghost killed while trying to fulfill a life debt to me,” I said. “And he was killed by Daphne, the Fae godmother, so hexes may be a little wonky with him.”

“Chase, don’t call her the godmother,” Harper warned. “She’s still alive out there somewhere and hates that term. Let’s not push our luck right now, okay? Can you do that for me? Not jinx us?”

“Power of the jinx, dude,” Lassa said.

“My bad,” I said. “But what else would you”—

“Daphne,” Harper said. “Everyone knows who you are talking about when you say Daphne. No other describers needed. Daphne.”

“Ms. Kyles is correct,” Ducheré said. She waved her hand and Carlyle bailed fast. “Daphne is sufficient to describe the head of the Fae. Even if she is currently in hiding.”

Harper stiffened and glared at Ducheré. “Any of your CIs know where she might be? That’s some intel I could use right now.”

“I’m afraid I have not made myself clear,” Ducheré said. “When I said there were fourteen blood ghast incidents, I should have said that the blood ghasts had assassinated fourteen of our CIs. The One Guy is all that remains at large currently. We had more than one in several of the larger metropolitan areas and they are currently in a safe and secure location in Washington DC. Which is where your organization comes in.”

“Goddammit,” I grumbled. “Don’t ask. Do not say the goddamn words.”

“I am sorry, but what am I missing here?” Sharon asked. “What are we being hired for exactly?”

“To move the One Guy to DC,” I said. I held up my hands and Dim smoke swirled in my palms. “Using something safer and more secure than anything the DEX has. You want me to put the One Guy in a black box.”

“As far as we know, nothing can penetrate one of your Dim creations,” Ducheré said. “We would appreciate your cooperation in safely transporting the One Guy from Asheville to Washington DC. Of course, your organization will be compensated per our subcontractor rates.”

“I will need to see those rates before we agree,” Sharon said. “And there are expenses to consider. If we’re to use one of our”—

“We will provide the transportation,” Ducheré interrupted.

“Hold on now,” Lassa said. He sat upright and was all business. “If word gets out I’m using government transportation then the Teamsters are gonna get testy. You’re asking a lot for us to risk our contacts with the trolls.”

“Yes, we are aware of your relationship with the various extradimensional unions,” Ducheré said. “I can have the Department of Labor smooth over any issues that might arise. Will that be sufficient?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, no worries,” Lassa snorted. “What could go wrong with a government bureaucracy negotiating with a labor union?”

“Oh, dear,” Sharon said.

“If I can guarantee that there will be no blowback from this job in regards to the Teamsters, or any other union, will you consider allowing the DEX to use your services?” Ducheré asked.

I smirked. “This shit has you scared.” The smirk stopped almost as fast as it appeared because I realized something. “Because you don’t have the first goddamn clue as to who’s summoned the blood ghasts, do you?”

Ducheré’s lips pressed together hard enough that they went almost white. Considering her complexion, those were some tight lips. After a moment she relaxed and sighed. “Take the job and I will tell you everything I know.”

“You already said openness was the best policy yet I’m still having to pull answers like teeth from you, lady,” I said.

“Take the job and all non-classified intel is yours,” Ducheré said.

“Not good enough.”

“That is the best offer you will get, Mr. Lawter. I cannot reveal classified information to civilians. I cannot reveal classified information to anyone without proper clearance.”

“Then get us clearance.”

That statement hung there for a long time. A long time.

Finally, Ducheré stood and smiled at Sharon. “Thank you for the coffee. I am sorry we could not come to an arrangement. If you change your mind, please contact me immediately. There will be another blood ghast sent to Asheville and I do hope your conscience can handle the repercussions of that.”

“If the One Guy ends up blood ghast food then I’m all good,” I said.

“Yes, well, the blood ghast didn’t go for the One Guy at the Raven’s Perch tonight, did it, Mr. Lawter? It went for you.” She nodded and left, picking up her stasis ward along the way. As soon as she was out of the office, she called to her agents and they began packing up.

“Chase,” Lassa said. “This ain’t good, dude.”

“Yeah, I agree with Lassa,” Harper added.

“Shitstorms . . .” Sharon mused.

I sat there thinking as the DEX agents loaded their gear and left, leaving us with a shattered front window and a whole helluva lot of questions.

“Goddammit,” I muttered.

“She gone?” Travis asked as he blipped back into existence right next to Sharon, who screamed and nearly fell out of her chair. “Sorry about that. Still figuring out the controls on this new existence.”

“What’d you find out?” I asked.

“A good amount,” Travis replied. “Get comfortable.”

“Nice,” Harper smiled.

“Wait, what? I missed something,” Lassa said.

“You and me both,” Sharon said.

“Hey, I’m all about helping out,” Travis said. He waved his ethereal hands around his body. “I’m all this until I satisfy my life debt to Chase.”

“Debts,” I corrected.

“Debts. Whatever. Anyway. You’re gonna love this.”

10.

WE LISTENED TO Travis and digested what he had to say. Harper may have fetched at least two more bottles of rye. But no matter how much we drank, I don’t think any of us got more than a buzz. Travis’s revelations were sobering, to say the least.

“I must say I am not comfortable with Travis breaking and entering into the local DEX offices,” Sharon said. “That could be considered treason or espionage, or treason and espionage. Not only could we lose our business, but end up in federal prison for the rest of our lives. I’m a zombie and the rest of my life is a very, very long time. Same with Lassa.”

“Relax,” Travis said. “I wasn’t detected. You saw how I could come and go from here without triggering any hexes.”

“They have surveillance equipment,” Sharon insisted.

“Harper?”

Harper picked up her phone and took a couple pictures then shot some video. “Nope. He doesn’t come up. Cleaner than a vampire.”

“Trust me, Sharon, I’ve been testing what I can do,” Travis said. “And I asked Chase if it was cool. He said to go for it.”

“You did? He did? When?” Sharon exclaimed.

“Chill out, Shar,” I said. “Travis raised an eyebrow and I gave him a wink and a nod. It was all said there.”

“I am not comfortable with informal communications like that,” Sharon sighed.

“Shar, you need new panties, because you aren’t comfortable with much of anything,” Harper said. “Loosen that zombie girdle and trust us to do our jobs.”

“Technically, Travis does not work for Black Box Inc., so technically he does not have a job,” Sharon snapped.

“Opposite of chilling out, Shar,” I said. “Okay. Everyone take a breath. In then out. Legality aside, employment aside, what Travis found out sucks balls. Some faction, group, cell, whatever has butchered an entire kobold royal family and is using the parts to summon blood ghasts. We need a plan to deal with this.”

“Gonna have to be a really good plan, dude,” Lassa said. “If Travis is right then we’re talking a lot of blood ghasts. No bueno.”

“And we do not know the faction involved?” Sharon asked Travis. “There was no mention of suspected groups?”

“There was a list as long as my . . .” He gave Lassa a wink. “Arm.”

“Cute,” Harper said. “Keep your arm in your pants, ghost stud.”

“We’ll want a copy of that list,” I said.

Travis tapped his temple. “All up here. I’ll write it down.”

“Any names stand out?” Sharon asked.

“A few,” Travis replied. “Mostly extradimensional governments that Earth has diplomatic issues with.”

“Oh, dear,” Sharon said.

Harper shrugged. “Not so bad. Extradimensional governments are exactly like all the governments on Earth. They are constantly playing the espionage game. We stay out of it, and don’t officially take a side, and we’ll be fine.”

“Except we’ve been asked to work for the DEX,” Lassa said. “That’s gonna get out, Harp. It’s not officially taking a side, but it’s close. Why aren’t you more worried?”

“I worked for the Fae for most of my life,” Harper replied. “Human governments are considered amateurs. No one will take the DEX involvement seriously. If we’re careful, we’ll come out fine.”

“Especially if there are no records of you being hired by the DEX at all,” a voice said from the shattered window.

“Shit,” I said. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in protective custody or something?”

“Oh, I am,” the One Guy said as he floated through what was left of the wall, across the barrier hex, and stopped next to me. He waved his hands over his body. “This? Simple astral projection hex. It is temporary, so I would appreciate it if you listened to my proposal.”

I glanced at my coworkers. No one objected.

“Fine. What is your proposal?”

“I would prefer to remain alive,” the One Guy said. “But I would also prefer it if Black Box Inc. didn’t become a pawn for the DEX. That kind of work tends to mar one’s usefulness for future jobs. And Black Box Inc. could be very useful to me at some later point. Once this blood ghast business has passed.”

“Spit it the fuck out,” I snapped. “What do you want?”

“I will hire you at twice your normal rate to get me safely to DC. As much as I hate to spend that amount, I am fond of staying alive, so I believe the expense is worth it. And, by hiring you myself, your name stays off the DEX ledgers. We both win in this scenario.”

“We win more if we stay out of it.”

“Chase, old friend, you know you’re already in it. The blood ghast attack tonight was proof of that.”

“And transporting a DEX CI makes shit safer for us how?”

He stared at me like I was some simple child that asked why the sky is blue.

“Do you honestly believe I play for one entity only, Chase? You know me. That would be shortsighted on my part, not to mention flat out stupid and bad for business. You get me to DC and I can guarantee I’ll not only get myself out of this mess, but that Black Box Inc. will be taken off the board, as well.”

Harper growled and the One Guy held up a hand.

“Bad choice of words. I don’t mean taken off the board as in killed, but as in you will no longer be used as pawns. Neutral parties, all of us.”

“Care to explain how the hell you think you can do that?” I asked. “Or better yet, why you haven’t done that already? “

“I have my reasons, Chase.”

“One of those reasons may be that I had a kobold head in a box and now that I’ve used it, it’s no good to you? You’re out of kobold parts and need my Dim to save your ass until you can get comfy in DC and manipulate the people you have dirt on. Am I close?”

“As always,” the One Guy said then shifted his focus to Harper. “I assume you are working on a plan to keep us all safe on the journey?”

“No us yet, asshole,” Harper said.

“May I ask a couple of questions?” Sharon said. “Why are the DEX CIs being killed at all? If Harper’s assessment of human governments being considered amateur is true then I do not see what threat these CIs pose.”

“I’m guessing not all dimensions think Earth is completely innocuous,” I said. “At least one or two CIs were a threat.” I eyed the One Guy. “Or are still a threat, because they are passing on real deal information to the DEX. That information gets leaked from the DEX and viola, you have an intel problem.”

“Oh, I see, yes.” Sharon nodded. “And since CIs are listed in the DEX’s system, it is less risky and easier to kill the CIs than to ferret out and kill the government leaks.”

“Go to the sources,” I said, once again eyeing the One Guy. “Or source.”

“You are so subtle, Chase,” the One Guy said. “Now, do we have a deal? Like I said, I have limited time in this astral form.”

“Guys? Company vote?” I asked.

“We use my transportation contacts,” Lassa said.

“Naturally,” the One Guy replied. “Otherwise, you have the DEX entanglement issue all over again.”

“I’m in charge of every aspect of security,” Harper said. “No exceptions. While we’re in transit, you do what I say, when I say it.”

The One Guy thought about that then nodded. “I can agree to that as long as there is a caveat that you will protect me as well as you protect your friends.”

“We’ll hammer down the details, but yeah,” Harper replied. “I can live with that.”

“Shar?” I asked.

She was busy crunching numbers on her calculator. When she was done she sighed and looked up. “We cannot do it for less than six hundred thousand dollars. Plus expenses.”

The One Guy laughed hard as his form began to fade.

“You’re running out of time, asshead,” I said.

“Yes. That number is acceptable. High, but acceptable. Hard to save a dime if I’m dead, now is it?”

“So three votes yes?” I asked. My co-workers nodded.

“Do I get a vote?” Travis asked.

“Dude,” Lassa said.

“No. You’re right,” Travis replied and held up his hands. “Not an employee. Never mind.”

“I vote yes too,” I said, rolling my eyes at Travis then focusing on the One Guy. “If you agree to one more item.”

“Which is?” the One Guy asked, still slowing fading away.

“Payment like Sharon said and you owe us a life debt,” I replied. “One for the company as a whole, not me. That way any of us can ask for the debt to be paid when needed.”

The One Guy didn’t laugh that time. Life debts were serious mojo. Travis was a case in point. A love bond was maybe the only magic that was stronger. And that was debatable.

The One Guy glared at me. Hard. He was almost completely transparent.

“Fine,” he snarled. “A life debt owed to Black Box Inc.”

“Then we have a deal,” I said.

He was gone as soon as I said the words.

We sat there for a minute in silence, each of us absorbing what we’d agreed to.

Then I shook my head and stood up.

“Food,” I said. “Shar? Will you call in delivery?”

“Chinese?” she asked. “I think that and pizza are all that’ll be open.”

“Works for me,” I said as Sharon picked up the office phone on her desk. “Lassa? Call some trolls. We’ll need a truck that’s secure, but won’t attract attention on the road.”

“Exactly. I know a guy that can hook us up with that,” Lassa said and was already dialing before the words were finished leaving his mouth.

“Harper?”

“I’ll want to see what truck Lassa wrangles for us, but I have more than a few ideas on security,” she said.

“Not only weapons. We need hexes. Plenty of them. We’re dealing with someone or something powerful enough to kill a bunch of kobolds and summon blood ghasts. We may not be able to protect against blood ghasts, but we can throw up some hexes and protect against whoever is behind them.”

“Yeah, Chase, I know. Been sitting right here.”

“Sorry. I’m thinking out loud.”

“I have security covered. I’ll call in a couple favors from that hillbilly mage clan out by Maggie Valley. They’ve been playing with mountain magic since before the Civil War. Those good ol’ boys will know how to keep whoever is summoning blood ghasts off our asses.”

“Perfect.” I picked up Sharon’s cell phone from my desk.

“Who are you calling?”

“Ducheré.”

“Hold on.” Lassa stopped talking and covered the phone with his hand. “Dude? You think that’s a good idea?”

“We have to take the One Guy to DC. Without Ducheré, we don’t know where we’re going. I’ll make sure she keeps it off books until we hand him over, but she’s going to have to be told. Informing her isn’t a contract.”

Lassa looked at Harper; Harper shrugged.

“We won’t tell her the route, only we’re on the way,” Harper said. “It may be handy to have her as backup if we need it. A little US of A firepower in case things go south on the road.”

“You’re security,” Lassa said and went back to talking to his transportation contact.

I brought up Ducheré’s number, but paused before hitting call, a sly smile creeping across my face.

“What?” Harper asked me.

“Feels too easy.”

“What does?”

“Getting rid of the One Guy.”

Harper laughed. “I knew it. That’s your real angle on all of this.”

“Of course. I didn’t think he’d agree to the life debt, though. That part bothers me. He didn’t even haggle.”

“Bothers me too.”

“You don’t think he sent that blood ghast after us tonight to force our hand, do you?”

“That’s a bit much even for that asshole. No one in their right mind would loose a blood ghast for leverage. A play like that goes wrong and he has local, state, and federal heat coming down on his ass. Not to mention pissing off the kobolds because that means he would have procured a stash of royal body parts to use.”

“Or he had at least one body part.”

“Still. Someone uses that kind of magic and they get tagged.”

Harper’s eyes went wide the same time mine did.

“Shit. We used a body part,” she said. “I’ll see if I can find out if we’re in deep shit with the kobolds as soon as I get off the phone with my mage guy.”

“Do that. Last thing we need are some pissed off goblins hunting us.”

“Kobolds aren’t goblins, Chase.”

“I know, but they’re closely related. And easily as vicious.”

Harper held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Not gonna argue with you there.”

I hit call and put the phone to my ear.

“Mr. Lawter?”

“Don’t ask for details because I won’t be giving you any, but we’re delivering a package to D.C.”

“You are?”

“We are.”

“That is good to hear. I’ll prepare the plan and”—

“No goddamn way. Those CI names got leaked somehow which means I can’t trust your department. This is not your operation. We’ll contact you from the road and let you know our ETA. Be ready with a destination then.”

“Mr. Lawter! That is not how”—

I hung up. I didn’t care what else she had to say. The DEX didn’t hire us, the One Guy did.

Goddamn that hurt to admit.

11.

CLOSE TO ONE in the morning Lassa dropped me and Harper off at my place. Despite the fact I could whup ass with Dim rods, and that she’d given me an apocalypse blade to be used in serious emergencies (very serious only since the thing could annihilate a couple square blocks if not handled properly), Harper wasn’t letting me out of her sight.

Like when we were kids on the streets of Asheville, she was going to watch my back. Except instead of dealing with crackheads trying to roll us for drug money, we were dealing with potential blood ghast attacks.

I left her to the couch once all the protection hexes had been double and triple checked on the doors and windows of my place, and she had her goblin sickle close at hand, then I stumbled my still-hungry, but too-exhausted-to-continue-eating, ass back to my bedroom.

I fell across my covers, reached out to my bedside table, and pulled open the drawer containing several spare phones. I activated one of them, then set my alarm for six. Big day coming up and we needed an early start.

As soon as I activated my new phone, two voicemail badges popped up. I debated, but despite being exhausted, I pressed play.

“Chase,” Iris Penn’s voice said. “Don’t read anything into this.”

That woke my ass up.

I listened carefully as I sat up and propped my back against my pillows.

“I’ve been talking to someone lately,” Iris continued. “Not a therapist or anything like that, but someone that could help me get some perspective on what happened to me.”

“Oh, shit,” I mumbled.

“He seems to think I may have been a little hard on you. That maybe you were in a shitty situation and did the best you could considering how fucked-up shit got.”

Iris had a mouth on her. One of many reasons I was more than smitten.

“Don’t call me back. Okay? I’m not ready to talk, but I wanted you to know that I don’t . . . hate you. Despite all your fucked-up bullshit. When I’m ready, I’ll reach out. When I’m ready. Not before.”

She sat there breathing for a few seconds.

“That’s all. Goodbye.”

I immediately played the next message.

“I’m off on Thursdays now. You can go to Taps & Tapas on Thursdays, if you want. But I can’t guarantee the staff will be nice. I didn’t tell them to be . . . All right . . . Bye. . . .”

Okay. I could handle that. I wasn’t on the total outs with Iris. And my Taps & Tapas ban had been lifted. Or, at least, amended. That was good. Very good. Kind of made dealing with all the crap worth it. It gave me a goal other than simply living. Funny how that happens.

The news should have kept me awake, and my mind racing, but it didn’t and I was drifting off when I heard a knock. Not at my door, but from the wall behind my headboard. Someone was outside.

“Hey,” Travis said as he tried to drift through the wall, his head appearing a foot away from my closet. He grimaced and struggled then managed to get himself through. “Jesus Christ, being a ghost is not as easy as you’d think.”

“Having issues with your incorporeal lifestyle?” I asked as I gave him an exaggerated yawn.

“Being a shapeshifter meant going through life in a hyperaware physical state. Hard to let that go even when dead.”

He settled himself on my clothes hamper. Not that I used the hamper much as evidenced by the piles of dirty clothes everywhere. Travis nudged a pile with his foot.

“You need an assistant,” Travis said. “Get your life in order.”

“You volunteering?”

“Not a chance, buddy. Not a chance.”

“Why are you here, Travis? It’s late, I need to sleep, I got a great voicemail from Iris and don’t want to ruin the good vibe I have going, so what’s up?”

“Iris? Really? Do tell.”

“No. You do the telling.”

Travis sighed and his body started to melt through the hamper.

“Dammit. Hold on.”

He scrunched up his face and in a second he was back on top of the lid and sitting solid.

“There. Okay. So, being a former shapeshifter, I’ve been exposed to a lot of different beings and a lot of different dimensions.”

“Yeah, I know. Get to the goddamn subject.”

“There are a few traits all beings have in common. One of those traits being old-fashioned bigotry. ‘Not from my dimension? Then to hell with you.’”

“The hatred of the other. Yeah, yeah, I get it. So . . . ?”

“Hatred eventually leads to hate groups.”

“Humans are predictable that way.”

“Hate groups need income as much as any other group.”

“Except hate groups don’t always go the legit route,” I said, starting to catch on.

“So, I did some digging after I left the office and a good handful of those groups all have one person in common.”

“The One Guy.” Even as I said the words, I truly wasn’t surprised. He had his sticky fingers in all kinds of nasty pies. “That’s the game the asshole plays.”

“True, true, but we’re now involved. Or Black Box Inc. is now involved and I’m involved adjacent. Can a ghost be involved adjacent?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re involved,” I said and yawned. “But that’s not keeping me awake. Can we talk about this in the morning? I’m dead tired.”

“Better than being straight-up dead.”

“Ha. Thanks for the food for thought, Travis. I appreciate it. And don’t worry. At no point do I trust the One Guy or expect this job to be cut-and-dried. The son of a bitch has an agenda.”

“You aren’t worried that agenda includes manipulating you into doing exactly what he wants? You aren’t worried we’re only a piece in his larger plan?”

“Of course we are. I’ve known the One Guy for most of my life. He doesn’t take a shit unless he’s manipulating someone to wipe his ass for him. But, here’s the thing, Travis, I don’t care. I plan on dropping his shit-wiped ass off in DC and saying see ya later. There was no return trip in the deal. With any luck he’ll be stuck in the Washington machine for years and, if we’re really goddamn lucky, he won’t be coming back to Asheville at all.”

“How do you figure?”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Travis stiffened.

“What?” he asked suspiciously.

“Confession time,” I said, giving him an apologetic look. “I was going to spring this on you in the morning so there was no time for you to come up with an argument, but here it goes. I need you to stay here in Asheville while we’re gone and dig deep into the One Guy’s operations. I need you to find the dirt on him that will make sure he stays locked up in Washington DC for a very long time. Find something that scares the DEX enough that they won’t want him to return to Asheville.”

“Jesus, Chase . . . Like what?”

“Build on the bigotry angle.” I shrugged. “Look into those groups. Whatever you can find. Doesn’t have to hold up in court, it only has to hold up in the paranoid minds of government officials. And nothing makes the government more paranoid than a bunch of human supremacist militias.”

Travis shook his head then stopped and glared at me.

“I’d be more useful on the road,” he said.

“Maybe. But I’d rather you stay. You can watch out for Sharon. She’s going to need the help and possibly some protection.”

More glaring. “Fine,” he said finally. “I stay and look for the dirt to keep the One Guy out of Asheville for good.”

“Thanks, pal. I appreciate it.”

We watched each other for a minute.

“I should be going,” he said.

“Yeah, go. Go now. Not too thrilled with a ghost watching me sleep.”

“I’ll see you all off in the morning.”

“See you back at the office first thing.”

He stood up and went to the wall, hesitated, looked like he was going to say something, then gave me a quick wave and floated through. His technique wasn’t graceful, but he managed and was gone.

I let out the mental breath I’d been holding and closed my eyes. But sleep wasn’t happening. So, I got up and decided to empty my fridge of whatever leftovers were in there. Travis gave me food for thought, but I needed real food for my belly more.

As I got out of bed I heard another knock, but this time from my bedroom door.

“Hold on, Harp,” I said as I yanked on a pair of pants. I crossed to the door and opened it. “What’s . . . up?”

Floating a few inches off the ground were two kids. Young teens, by the look of them. Dead. Very dead. Full-on ghosts. Not nice-looking ghosts like Travis, but tortured ghosts with warped features and evidence that some seriously bad shit happened to them in life. Their bodies were a patchwork of flesh and bone. Literally bits of bone were sticking out here and there.

“You,” they hissed at me. “You.”

“Me?” I replied, patting my pockets for some kind of ward or charm or weapon. “Me what?”

“You did this. You. You! YOU!”

They rushed me and I fell on my ass, my back hitting the end of my bed hard. The metal bed frame dug into my spine and I cried out as four cold hands clamped over my face and head. They were trying to get inside me, trying to worm those fingers into my mouth, into my ears, up my nose.

I coughed and gasped and struggled and fought and—

And woke up.

“Hey,” Harper said, taking a step back from my bed as my arms flew up to ward her off and the Dim began to flow from my hands. “Hey, calm down. Bad dream, man. Bad dream.”

I looked about the room, but no ghost kids. Only my piles of dirty laundry and Harper. I sent the Dim away and gave her a weak smile.

“Thanks,” I said.

“For what?” she asked as she stood there in her underwear, one hand scratching her ass while the other rubbed under her boobs. Modesty wasn’t Harper’s thing.

“Bringing me out of that bad dream. I was being . . . Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Bad dream. Sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t,” she said. “It’s morning. We gotta go. Grab some food while I shit and shower then we can hit the road. Lassa called and he’s sending us the address where we can meet him and the truck.”

“Wait, what? We aren’t going back to the office?”

“Nope. We’re on the job as of now. Get the truck, get the One Guy on the truck, get on our way to DC. Going back to the office is predictable. From here on out we avoid predictable at all costs.”

She rubbed her belly and frowned.

“Don’t worry your pretty Dim-making head, Chase. You make the box to keep the One Guy safe and leave the rest to me and Lassa, cool?”

“Yeah. Sure. Cool.”

“Good because I don’t have time to argue. Gotta crap something fierce. That Chinese last night was way too fucking greasy.”

“Nice,” I said as she left my room.

The dream of the ghost kids lingered briefly in my mind, but I shook it off and got up.

I grabbed my phone and double-checked that the voicemails from Iris weren’t remnants of my dream. Whew. They were real. I hoped the talk with Travis was too. I’d have to call him from the road to confirm. Or call Sharon and see if he was at the office. I highly doubted ghosts had phones.

Which made me think of the ghost kids again. That shit was goddamn messed up. I rubbed at my temples as I made my way to the kitchen. Eat first, think about weird-ass dreams and weirder ghosts later.

12.

“CHASE! COME ON!” Harper called. “Ghoul’s here!”

“Yeah. On the way,” I said as I grabbed my backpack from off my bed.

I paused in my doorway, images of ghost kids like phantoms in the hallway. I shoved that crap from my mind and hurried to the front door where Harper was waiting. No idea why the ghost kids bugged me so much, but they did. There was something in that dream . . .

“You cool?” she asked. “Because you don’t look cool.”

“I’m cool. Shitty night’s sleep.”

“Well, suck it up and get your head on straight, Chase. Gonna need you to focus today. Twelve-hour drive ahead of us.”

“Goddamn backroads adding four hours to an eight-hour trip,” I muttered as I stepped up next to her.

“You smart. You do math,” Harper mocked as she moved outside, Magnum in hand and down at her side.

She scanned the area, her head swiveling quickly back and forth then nodding, and walked towards the curb where two very large trolls waited by a Toyota Tercel. The trolls were scanning the area as much as Harper was, but neither of them was armed. Being a troll was weaponry enough.

“Come on,” Harper said.

I followed her out and we walked quickly to the car. Without a word, one of the trolls opened the back door and Harper ushered me in then jumped in behind me. The troll shut the door and the car was off, leaving the two huge beings behind.

“No escort?” I asked.

“Nah,” Harper said. “Car’s hexed up to the eyeballs.” Harper patted the driver’s seat headrest. “Right?”

“Yes, mum,” the ghoul driver replied. “Heavy hexes covering every inch, mum.”

Ghouls. They were a short, hunched-over race. Gray skin, ropy muscles. Stank of carrion. Hard workers, though. You could pay them almost nothing and they didn’t care. They literally worked for rotten meat. The meat had to be at least two weeks old, so paying them was a bit stinky. They handled everything from bussing tables to driving tourists around town. Landscaping, hanging drywall, they’d do it all for a moldy shank of goat.

Which meant backlash. Ghoul labor activists. Local politicians with anti-immigrant axes to grind. Human workers displaced. A centuries-old problem with an extradimensional twist.

“Where are we headed?” I asked.

“Warehouse down in the River Arts District,” Harper said as she checked her phone then leaned forward and showed the map to the ghoul. “Here’s the address.”

“Yes, mum, I know the building,” the ghoul replied.

With every word, the car stank worse. I reached to roll down the window, but Harper stayed my hand.

“Glass is darkened on the outside,” she said. “Roll that down and you’re a sitting duck.”

“Your gut saying we’re gonna get hit on the way to the truck?”

“Someone sent the blood ghast after us yesterday. We’re dealing with the One Guy. We’re also dealing with the DEX and the US government. My gut says not to press our luck.”

“True,” I agreed. “No window down.”

“No window down.”

The ghoul drove us through downtown then along Haywood Road. We twisted our way to an area of Asheville that had once been industrial buildings situated along railroad tracks and the French Broad River. Times changed and the industrial buildings were either torn down to make way for condos and riverside hotels, or they were refurbished into art galleries, pottery collectives, breweries, and high-priced taquerias.

But, despite the accelerated gentrification, there still stood a couple of warehouses that actually warehoused shit. Like the one the ghoul turned towards as we bumped along a rutted gravel drive that led us back behind a huge concrete building covered in graffiti.

Bales and bales of bound cardboard were stacked twenty feet high on each side of the drive, walling us in like a corrugated canyon. A hard shove and the Tercel would be buried instantly. Good thing I could see Lassa standing at the end of the drive waiting for us or I’d have started to get claustrophobic.

Lassa held up a hand and the ghoul driver stopped about fifteen yards away from where one ugly-ass panel truck sat idling, puffs of exhaust coming from its tailpipe, condensing in the crisp, morning air.

Harper pulled a gallon baggie filled with rancid meat from her backpack and handed it to the ghoul.

“Thank you, mum,” the ghoul said. “Pleasure serving you today.”

“Thanks,” she said and handed him a second gallon baggie.

“Mum?”

“You didn’t see us, you didn’t drive us to this place. We were never in your car. Got it?”

“Of course, mum. I must have gotten turned around. Ghouls and GPS, am I right, mum?”

“Exactly.”

We hopped out and walked to Lassa. He gave a nod to the ghoul driver and we waited until the car was long gone before we relaxed slightly and Lassa walked us over to the truck.

Harper eyed it then turned her attention on Lassa.

“The mages do their thing?” she asked.

“They did,” Lassa replied with some hesitation.

“What?” I asked. “Was there a problem with the hillbillies?”

“They wouldn’t take cash,” Lassa said, looking at Harper. “They wanted trade.”

“Shit,” Harper said and turned her face to the sky, her eyes closed. “What did they want?”

“Six black boxes,” Lassa said, his attention on me now. “Sorry, Chase. I even added twenty percent to their fee and they refused. They wanted boxes only.”

“Six?” I said. “How big are we talking?”

Lassa shrugged and scrunched up his handsome face in the corniest look of apology ever. “Container size.”

“You aren’t talking Tupperware containers, are you?”

“Nope. Container truck size.” He pointed at the panel truck behind him. “Bigger than that.”

“Six?”

“Six.”

“Shit. That’s a lot of Dim,” I said and looked at Harper. “They worth this price?”

“Yeah,” Harper said, her eyes opening as she turned to me. “They are. Best protection hexes money can buy.”

“Or trade.”

“Or trade,” Harper agreed. “And keeping them happy will mean using them again down the road.”

“Then we keep them happy and pay with six boxes,” I said. “Great.”

“They did say that blood ghast handlers are a tricky bunch, so not to get too comfortable,” Lassa said. “Even with the best hexes, practitioners with that much mojo will find cracks in the magic.”

“Better not be cracks when we’re paying in six container-sized black boxes,” I snapped.

“The cracks would be bigger if we went with anyone else,” Harper said.

“They pointed that out too,” Lassa said.

“We can handle the cracks.” Harper nodded then patted the goblin sickle on her belt with one hand and the magnum with the other. “I’m always down with riding rough and ready if the hexes fail. You driving?”

“No,” Lassa said. “I’ve got shotgun.”

“That wasn’t the plan,” I said. “Outside parties mean outside influence. Can we trust someone else to drive?”

“Chill. A better plan presented itself, dude,” Lassa said, a shit-eating yeti grin on his face. “Troy!”

“Whassup?” a deep, bass rumble replied.

Quite possibly the shortest troll I’d ever seen in my life came lumbering around from the other side of the truck. Trolls usually run a good seven feet tall, with exceptions due to specific species, but even the exceptions were huge. This one was maybe five feet tall. Maybe. But, holy shit, he was cut. Like his muscles were chiseled straight from the mountains we lived in. And his skin was obsidian black. Literally.

Lassa knows everyone in the transportation business. If we can’t handle a gig alone, we subcontract with the Teamsters. Faeries may have invented lawyers, but trolls invented the Teamsters. And I don’t mean that in a derogatory way.

There are over two thousand species of trolls. Some are dumb as rocks while others make Stephen Hawking look like George W. Bush. Depends on the species and the individual troll.

Regardless of variations in troll intelligence, if you need something moved across dimensions, you call a Teamster troll. We weren’t moving across dimensions, but Lassa knew his stuff, so if he thought we needed a troll driver then we needed a troll driver.

“Troy’s a glass troll,” Lassa said. “He used to run ski shuttles back in my dimension. Known him all my life.”

“All your life? You’re centuries old, pal,” I said.

“Troy is older,” Lassa replied. “Right, Troy? How old are you?”

“Older than your pappy’s spunk, you little shit,” Troy replied.

“I like him,” Harper said as she stepped forward and offered her hand.

Troy’s massive paw enveloped Harper’s hand and he gave it a quick shake.

“Care to show me the back?” Harper asked.

“You bet,” Troy said.

“A friend from home?” I asked Lassa as we followed Troy and Harper to the rear of the truck.

The vehicle was an ancient U-Haul truck. Not the largest, but the second largest. It still had the logo on it, but faded to an almost illegible pink, instead of the bright orange. If we wanted to blend in on the backroads from Asheville to DC, that was the truck that would make it easy to do.

“If we’re going up against blood ghasts, the DEX, and whatever crap the One Guy has on his ass, then I need the best behind the wheel,” Lassa said. “No better driver in all the dimensions.”

“No better driver? Better than you?”

“He taught me how to drive. You’ve been to my dimension. Thirty thousand foot passes and nothing but snow and ice. He could fall asleep at the wheel here and still be a better driver than ninety percent of the humans on the road.”

“Not gonna argue that. But why call in a driver at all? Even without the hexes, we can handle this. We’ve handled worse. You were going to drive and Harper ride shotgun. What really changed?”

“Yeah, well . . .”

Harper laughed as she hopped down from the back of the truck. Troy was telling her some joke about a gryphon and unicorn. Or a gryphon in a unicorn. It was hard to hear the details.

Lassa looked from Harper then back to me.

“She might stand out along the way. Last thing we need is some rural yahoo with a badge to pull us over simply because he wants to hassle a woman of color.”

“Goddammit,” I muttered.

He was right. Harper didn’t exactly have the skin color to keep us out of trouble. We’d get stopped and some bigot with a badge and gun would make a backhanded comment about her skin color. Then she’d open that cracker’s belly with one of her many blades. We’d be royally fucked.

“Uh, Troy isn’t exactly the color of choice for the rural South, either,” I countered.

“Ain’t no one gonna even glance at me,” Troy said. “We trolls have a way of making folks avert their eyes. Some redneck might get his boxers in a twist for half a second, but he’ll get over it just as fast and turn his hate on his wife or kids like any other day.”

“Yay for humans,” I said.

“Been living in the South my whole life,” Harper said. “Minus my time in the faerie dimension. I can take care of myself. I know how to handle good ol’ boys.”

“Do you?” Lassa asked. “That handling with or without blades?”

“Everything is with blades,” Harper replied.

“Point made,” Lassa said to me.

“Point made,” I replied.

“You two want to keep talking about me like I’m not here and don’t get a say in this?” Harper snapped. “Yeah, keep doing that. Let’s get this road trip started on that foot, you assholes.”

She patted her goblin sickle again.

“Harp? I love you like family, because you are basically family, but sometimes we have to be brutally honest with family.” I took a deep breath. “We can’t afford the risk of you killing some racist piece of shit and bringing holy hell down on us when we have too much heat as it is to deal with. You gotta know we’re right here.”

Harper growled.

“So, we’re good?” I asked.

Her growl petered out. Then she nodded and walked off to join Troy who was busy inspecting the truck’s tires.

“We’re good,” I said to Lassa.

“Cool. So back to logistics. Hexes are in place. Troy drives. I sit shotgun. Harper rides in back with you and the Dim box holding the One Guy,” Lassa said.

He winced. He tried to hide it, but failed miserably.

“Time out. Back up.” I glared. Hard. “What was that about the Dim box? It’s gonna be in back with me and Harp? Still in this dimension, not banished to the Dim?”

“Dude, I’m sorry, but he insisted,” Lassa replied, glancing towards the wide open bay doors of the warehouse we were standing next to. “You know him better than I do, but I doubt you’re gonna change his mind.”

“Change his mind about what?” I asked.

Harper came back, chuckling from another of Troy’s jokes. She’d moved on, apparently. She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Lassa? How have you never introduced us to Troy before? Guy’s a fucking riot.”

She instantly sensed the mood and the chuckle died away.

“What’s wrong now? I decided not to cut you bitches. This better not put me back in that mood.”

“I’ll show you,” Lassa said and led the way inside the warehouse.

Sitting on a folding chair was the One Guy. He was dressed in white slacks and a white polo shirt with a black belt and black shoes. His face was still clouded, but it wasn’t hard to see the smirk on his lips.

Standing directly behind him were four dopplers. Dressed in shorts and printed t-shirts, the idiots looked like they were trying very hard to capture Disney World chic. If their shirts matched and they had lanyards hanging around their necks while holding a gaggle of leashed toddlers then the image would have been perfect.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” I said.

“Whatever do you mean, Chase?” the One Guy said with so much bullshit falling out of his mouth I expected the folding chair to be knee deep in a stinking pile. “You didn’t think I’d trust my wellbeing in the hands of a homicidal ex-assassin trained by the Fae, did you? No offense, Harper.”

“Suck my dick,” Harper replied.

“No, thank you,” the One Guy said. “These gentlemen are four of my most loyal employees. They’re coming with us to make sure that at the end of the ride, you open up the black box you intend on sticking me inside.”

“What? You don’t trust me?” My turn for a heaping pile of BS. “I’d never leave a client in a box.”

“We both know you are thinking of doing exactly that,” the One Guy replied. “It’s your entire motivation for making the deal with me. Do you deny it?”

“Would you believe me if I did?”

“Not at all,” the One Guy said.

“Suit yourself.” I glared at the dopplers, but received only semi-lifeless stares back. I grimaced and turned to Lassa. “We ready to get this nightmare on the road?”

“I certainly am,” the One Guy said and stood up, clasping his hands in front of him. “Boys? Bring my luggage.”

Two of the dopplers moved off into the shadows and came back with a rolling cart loaded to the top with suitcases.

“Yeah. We’re ready,” Lassa said. “Harper’s seen the truck. I’ll show you so you know what you’re in for.”

“Yay,” I said with absolutely zero enthusiasm.

13.

LASSA DID A GREAT job with the truck. I will give him that.

While the outside of the truck looked like it hadn’t been serviced in decades, the inside of the cargo area was outfitted with all kinds of creature comforts. Recliners bolted to the floor. Several large coolers filled with drinks and food. Crates of salty snacks. Duffel bags of sugary snacks.

And a crate against the far wall that Harper stood next to, beaming with as much glee as she ever showed. I could tell she was happy as hell, but the glee made the many, many scars on her face stand out more than usual. The effect was closer to terrifying. Even the dopplers hesitated before they lifted the luggage cart up into the cargo area.

“Harper? Is that crate filled with weapons?” I asked.

She nodded and toed the lid open with her foot.

Inside was a carefully organized assortment of pistols, blades of all sizes, and three assault rifles. Not to mention several items that I didn’t recognize, but had to assume went boom.

“I see two recliners, which is lovely, but what will I be seated upon?” the One Guy asked as he climbed into the truck. “My employees will stand, of course, but you can’t expect me to do the same the entire trip.”

“You’ll be in a Dim box,” I said. “You don’t need to sit.”

“Is that so? Because I heard through the grapevine that you outfitted an entire living room set for that restaurant owner lady you fancy so much.” He snapped his fingers and two of the dopplers went back into the warehouse then returned with the folding chair. “Ah, that will do nicely.”

“I can make the box snug so you won’t need a chair,” I said. “You’ll feel like you’re floating.”

“I prefer a chair.”

“But you don’t need one.”

“Yet, I prefer one.”

“I prefer you don’t have one since that’ll make the box bigger and that becomes a problem.”

“Oh, Chase, are you too weak to handle a slight adjustment to the size of one of your special black boxes? How precious.”

“I’ll show you precious, you sanctimonious prick.”

“Whip ’em out, boys,” Harper said. “I’ll eye the measurements from here and tell you who wins.”

“Always a delight, Harper,” the One Guy said and set the folding chair down directly in front of the recliners. “Now, Chase, since the chair issue is settled, shall we get started?”

“Not yet,” Lassa said. “I want you out of the Dim while we drive around Asheville for about thirty minutes. With you still exposed, we can check to see if anyone is following us via a tracking hex. When I give the signal, Chase puts you in the box, we drive around a little more to see if that shakes any tails. If we’re good then we leave town.”

“You’re the professionals,” the One Guy said as he sat down. “Speaking of, has anyone informed Special Agent Ducheré of this little plan of ours?”

“I’ll call her before we leave town so she knows we’re on the way and can have your new digs in DC waiting and ready. Then we toss cell phones so we can’t be tracked.”

“You people are so smart. I could make you incredibly rich if you ever wanted to put that brain power and your skills to work for me exclusively.”

“Hard pass,” Harper said as she latched the weapons crate shut and plopped down in one of the recliners.

“Too bad,” the One Guy said.

“Get comfy, folks,” Lassa said as he jumped down from the back of the truck, one hand pulling the sliding door’s handle with him so it descended most of the way. “And please don’t kill each other.”

“No promises,” Harper and I said in unison.

The One Guy laughed hard.

Then Lassa closed and locked the rear door and we were plunged into darkness.

Harper cracked some glow sticks and tossed them randomly around the cargo area. The dopplers stood there like an eight-year old’s worst nightmare, their blank faces illuminated by bile green light as they waited behind the One Guy.

After a couple of seconds, the truck rumbled to life then jolted before it began moving. The sound of gravel changed to the smoothness of asphalt and we were on our way.

“Not that I am questioning you, but using outside contractors for the protection hexes? Is that really wise?” the One Guy asked.

“Yeah,” Harper replied.

“Despite the risks it poses? I mean, I’ve had dealings with the folks in the hollers and hills. They aren’t always meticulous. I see that the walls are armored well, which is a plus, but armor won’t stop magic.”

“That’s why we have hexes,” Harper replied. “The hexes will hold.”

“You aren’t concerned?”

“Yeah.”

“Um, is that a yeah you are concerned or a yeah that you aren’t concerned?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Harper, I regret I’ll be in a Dim box instead of getting to sit and chat with you the whole trip.”

Harper rolled her eyes, but didn’t respond.

I got comfortable in my recliner and pulled out my phone.

“Time to talk to Ducheré again,” I said. “This should be fun.”

“Mr. Lawter,” Ducheré snarled when she answered. “That ghoul driver of yours was very good at slipping away from my agents this morning when you left your place. Care to tell me what the hell is going on? Last evening’s phone call was less than satisfying.”

“I’m doing what you want,” I replied. “Maybe not the way you want, but it is what you asked us to do.”

There was a pause. “So you are taking the One Guy to DC for us after all?”

“Not for you, no.”

“I don’t understand, Mr. Lawter. Explain.”

“We’ve been hired to do a job. So happens that job is exactly the job you wanted done. Two birds, one stone, and all that shit.”

“All right. Good. Send me your route and I’ll provide an escort and DEX backup.”

“Nah. Not gonna do that. Like I said last night, you can give me a destination and we’ll take care of the rest.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No need to be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Harper laughed at my snark.

“Mr. Lawter. I have to insist you send me the route. Otherwise you are interfering with a DEX operation. That is a very serious issue and the government does not mess around when it comes to operational interference.”

“Not doubting that, Ducheré,” I said as the truck took a hard right.

I glanced at Harper, but she seemed cool about it. I wrinkled my brow and she held up a walkie talkie and smiled. I nodded.

“Mr. Lawter, I am insisting that you cooperate.”

“I know you are. I can hear the insistence in your voice. But, the reality is”—

“The reality is that your business partner, Ms. Spaglioni, is still here in Asheville. If you are not willing to be cooperative on your own then perhaps I can give you some incentive to change your mind. I’ll be in touch, Mr. Lawter.”

She hung up.

I pulled the phone away and stared at it for a few seconds.

“What?” Harper asked.

“Yes, Chase, what?” One Guy asked with mock helpfulness. “I don’t believe you got in the last word and from the look on your face, Special Agent Ducheré’s last words troubled you.”

“It’s all good,” I said. It wasn’t. Her threat bugged me. Also, I didn’t get the final destination. But I’d get it later. No doubt about that.

The truck began to dip and curve. Harper’s walkie made a quick squawk then went silent.

“Cell phones gone,” Harper said as she stood up and held out her hand. “No exceptions.”

I gave her mine then she stood in front of the One Guy. He held up his hands.

“Didn’t bring one. I had a feeling we’d go silent and didn’t want to waste a perfectly good phone.”

“I’ll have to check,” Harper said and gestured for him to stand up. The dopplers moved an inch closer and Harper held up a finger. “One Guy?”

“Relax, gentlemen,” the One Guy said as he stood and spread his legs while holding his arms out. “We have hired these fine professionals to do a job. We will cooperate and let them do that job.”

The dopplers didn’t exactly relax, but they didn’t get pissy as Harper patted the One Guy down.

“He didn’t lie this time,” Harper said when she was done with her search.

“Miracle of miracles,” I said.

“Gotta check your goons, too,” Harper said.

“They’ll allow it,” the One Guy said as he sat back down.

The dopplers did and all Harper found were enough sidearms to give the NRA a tingly feeling in their bathing suit area, but no phones.

“Are we done with the groping?” the One Guy asked as Harper walked to the back of the truck, lifted the sliding door a couple inches, and tossed our phones outside. “Because I am so looking forward to this trip. Taking a ride inside a Dim box. Once in a lifetime experience.”

“I’m glad you’re so stoked about it,” I said and looked at Harper. “We ready?”

Harper clicked the walkie twice and waited. She received two clicks back.

“We’re ready,” she said. “On I-26 right now. About to pass Weaverville.”

Haute Café was in Weaverville and they made the best pastries in the country. That made my stomach grumble.

“Jesus, Chase,” Harper said. “We got plenty of snacks. Tame that tummy, man.”

“Tame that tummy,” the One Guy parroted. “You two and your banter. Always so touching.”

“Suck it, fuzz face,” Harper said.

I held out my hands and black smoke began to pour from my palms.

“Oh, before you tuck me away, I do have a couple of items I’d like to discuss,” the One Guy said.

“Discuss them with yourself,” I said as I formed the first panel of the box I’d stick the asshead in.

“No, Chase, I believe you’ll want to hear this,” the One Guy said and hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the dopplers. “They have strict instructions to make sure that when we reach DC, you let me out of this box. If you do not, they will kill you.”

Harper snorted, but I held up a smoky hand and she went silent.

“Expected that. What else?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing except that if anything happens to me, regardless of whose fault it may be, then Ms. Spaglioni will not be long for her undead life. I have contingencies in place. Many, many contingencies.”

“Everyone thinks Sharon is my Achilles’ heel,” I said. “You think I don’t have contingencies in place too?”

“Such as that abomination of a ghost?” the One Guy said. “Shapeshifters. Nothing but dimensional trash. Worse when they’re dead.”

“Careful,” Harper said.

“You talk a great game, One Guy. You do,” I said. “But talking a great game and playing one are two different things.”

“Yes. Yes, they are,” the One Guy said. “So do not play with me, Chase. Do the job you were hired to do and don’t even think of double-crossing me. Accomplish those simple tasks and Ms. Spaglioni stays out of the game and your little ghost friend gets to go on suffering his life debts to you.”

“Can I put you in a box now?”

“Do we have an understanding?”

“When haven’t we ever not had an understanding?”

I could see the pain on the dopplers’ faces as they tried to work out the double negatives of that sentence across their brains. It looked like they were going to collapse from the strain. The One Guy looked over his shoulder and shook his head.

“One more thing, Chase. Please don’t break my employees with mind tricks. They have been told that if they become too confused to know whether or not to trust you then they can err on the side of caution and kill you. Let’s keep the plan, and the rhetoric, simple, all right?”

“Box or no box?” I replied.

He grumbled a little, which meant I was getting to him. Yay for me.

“Box,” he said finally.

“Good.”

I finished making the panels and set them around his chair. All the while he stared up at me, those eyes locked onto mine. I tried to ignore him, but the One Guy knew how to get under my skin too. That stare was one way. It always had been.

“And we’re done,” I said as I held the last panel in my hand. “Try to get some sleep. Dim boxes are great to nap in.”

“What a lovely idea, Chase. I may take”—

I didn’t hear the rest as I sealed the box tight. Sound doesn’t penetrate Dim boxes, coming or going.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was very tempted to banish the box into the Dim. Way less energy and work on my part if it’s tucked away there. Keeping a Dim box active takes a lot out of me. Also, for shits and giggles, I so wanted to see the looks on the idiot dopplers’ faces when I went against their boss’s orders.

Harper put a hand on my shoulder and I sighed.

“I wasn’t going to,” I said.

“Relax and grab something to eat,” Harper said, ignoring the half-lie. “Your job is only to maintain the box and chill out. Leave everything else to me and Lassa.”

“Fine,” I said as I plopped down into my recliner and reached for a cooler.

Time to see what road snacks were packed for me. I was goddamn starving and we’d only gone maybe a mile after I closed the box. Gonna be a long trip.

14.

WITH A COUPLE pounds of salty snacks in my belly, I relaxed into the recliner and cracked open a beer. My metabolism from working the Dim made it hard to stay buzzed, so one beer wasn’t going to even register on my senses or slow my reaction time. Drinking was more for taste and also for show. I sipped at it casually as I eyed the dopplers.

“Do you guys eat?” I asked. “Because I’ve never seen a doppler eat.”

“Chase,” Harper warned. “Let’s not poke the morons.”

I almost replied, but shrugged instead. She was right. We had a long journey and whether we liked it or not, we were stuck with the dopplers the entire ride. The problem was that dopplers bugged the living shit out of me.

“No,” Harper said, smacking my arm and causing me to spill some of my beer. “I can tell you’re getting into one of those moods.”

“What moods?” I asked, all innocent and full of shit.

“The pick and pick and pick until someone snaps mood,” Harper said. “Let’s get your mind off the lugs and focus on our route.”

“Whatever,” I said and set the beer down then turned to Harper. “Enlighten me.”

She unfolded a map, since neither of us had phones, and held it out.

“Asheville here. DC here,” she said as she managed to keep the map from folding in on itself while also tracing a finger along a highlighted line. “We’ll be going this way. Staying off the interstates once we get up into Tennessee. That I-26 to I-81 interchange gets dicey. One of those crappy cloverleafs that freaks everyone out because getting on and off is like a mad race.”

“I hate that interchange,” one of the dopplers said.

We both turned and looked at them, but it was impossible to tell which one spoke.

“Uh . . . what?” Harper asked. They didn’t reply. She looked back at me. “You heard that, right?”

“I heard it,” I said as I studied the dopplers. “That was a very undoppler thing to say.”

We waited, but none of the morons spoke again. Back to the map.

“We’re gonna lose time here as we backtrack a little down to 394 then connect with 19,” Harper explained.

“We’re not staying on 19 the whole way, are we? That’d be a little obvious.”

“Ya think, Chase? Would it be obvious?” She thumped me in the forehead with a quick flick of her finger.

“Ow.”

“Shut up and pay attention. We take 19 until we connect to 16. It’s a shitty little highway that winds up through the West Virginia mountains. We’ll make a couple stops along the way there. This truck guzzles gas, so not much of a choice.”

“You have a plan for when we need gas? We’ll be sitting ducks.”

“I have contacts along the way. They don’t know what the job is, but they do know to make sure each stop is secure when we get there. No questions asked on their end and no surprises on our end.”

“Cool. Then from 16?”

Harper spoke and pointed at numbered highways on the map for a while. “We’ll wind up merging onto 219. Not an interstate, but there will be traffic.”

“You want us in traffic?”

“I want to flush out anyone that may be on our tail. The cover of traffic is a good way to do that. Lassa agrees.”

“I defer to your infinite wisdom.”

“Blow me, smart ass. We’ll follow 3 when it splits off and follow that into Virginia. At that point we stop and assess from there. We’ll have a few options to choose from to cross Virginia and into DC. We can mix it up as we head to the Beltway. The trick is that Virginia, no matter what highway you drive on, will get denser the closer we get to DC. There’ll come a point where backroads won’t matter and we may want the congestion of an interstate to use to our advantage.”

“Put some cover around us.”

“Exactly. And as much as we want to keep Ducheré in the dark, the closer we get to DC the more likely it’ll be she’ll have agents waiting along the road no matter which one we’re on. We only have so much wiggle room on this, Chase.”

“Got it. Plan sounds good.”

“Except for one issue.”

The words weren’t Harper’s. The doppler had spoken again.

“Okay, I’m calling bullshit,” I said and pointed at the idiots. “Which one of you has grown a brain? Come on. Out with it or I swear I’m letting Harper toss you all out the back of this truck.”

“I’ll do it,” Harper said.

“She’ll do it. Speak up or become intimate with road rash.”

One of the dopplers rolled his eyes, and I aimed my pointing finger at him.

“You. What the hell? Dopplers need two brains.”

“Technically, yes. But there are ways around that. One of those ways is transference of consciousness, Chase. You didn’t think I’d really step back and trust you.”

“Oh, sweet hell no,” I said. “No, no, no, no.”

“That’s a lot of no’s, Chase,” the doppler said.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten then opened my eyes and looked at Harper.

“How?” I asked her.

“Not sure,” she replied, her eyes studying the doppler in question. “Had to have happened before you closed the Dim box, but I would have picked up on a hex being worked inside the truck. The hillbillies’ hexes should have triggered a warning, at the least.”

“There are other ways besides hexes to get the job done, Harper,” the doppler said. “I didn’t get to where I am by being predictable, now did I?”

The doppler held up a hand and shook his head.

“Don’t bother asking about the process. It’s proprietary and something I have been playing with for a long while now. Isn’t it lucky I perfected it right before we had to make this little trip? Fate favors the bold.”

“And my foot favors kicking you in the nuts,” Harper said.

The doppler laughed then looked around.

“I will say that I didn’t plan very well with the comforts of the ride. Would either of you be willing to give up your recliner? I can add a hefty bonus to your payment for being so kind.”

“Suck it, One Guy,” Harper said. “You’re standing. Deal.”

“I’m with Harp on this, asshead,” I said. “You put your mind inside a moron, you have to handle the consequences on your own.”

The doppler, or the One Guy now inside and controlling the doppler, frowned. Then shrugged. That gave me an idea.

“Full transference or are you linked to the body in the box?” I asked.

“Oh, no, full transference for me,” the One Guy doppler said. “This gentleman to my right is linked to the mind in the box. Dopplers must share a mind or they collapse under the weight of a single thought.”

“You have no problem with your body being controlled by a doppler brain link?” Harper asked. “Ballsy. Or imbecilic. Probably both.”

“I prefer ballsy and brilliant,” the One Guy doppler said. “And you both should be thanking me. I could have stayed silent and eavesdropped on your conversations the entire ride.”

“Yeah, no,” I said. “There was no way you could stay silent the whole trip. Not you.”

“Probably not. But I could have gone on much longer than I did. I felt that it was more beneficial for you to be in the know, especially since you have been tasked with keeping me safe. Secrecy would have made your job that much harder.”

“What’s making our job harder is that you changed the plan, dumbass,” Harper snapped. “It was a really fucking simple plan. Chase make box, you go in box, we deliver box. No need to switch minds or anything. You’re as dumb as the doppler you replaced.”

“That’s not true. The mind switch is brilliant, really. Would you care to guess why?”

“Oh, I love playing guessing games. Right, Chase?”

“It’s her favorite type of game to play,” I said. “Right next to stab an asshole in the eye and pluck it from his skull.”

“Ooo, let’s play that game,” Harper said, a very sharp blade in her hand. I didn’t see her pull it. It was simply not there then there.

The other dopplers began to move towards Harper, but the One Guy held up his hand and they stopped.

“How do they know to listen to you?” I asked.

“They do. That’s all that matters,” the One Guy said and nodded at Harper’s knife. “Are you done with your show, Harper? May I explain myself now?”

“Explain away,” Harper said, but didn’t put the knife away.

“The mind switch is beneficial on several counts,” the One Guy explained. “First, diversion. Second, I get to keep an eye on you. Third, I fully expect the DEX to betray my confidence and make a move to keep me locked up forever. They’ll be locking up the wrong body. Fourth”—

“Oh, get on with it!” I snapped. “I didn’t sign up to listen to you listing bullet points.”

“Fourth,” the One Guy insisted. “When the next blood ghast attack comes, which it will, I’ll be ready and watching.”

“You aren’t worried about that fuzzy mug of yours getting destroyed?” Harper asked. “I’m all about bait, but you aren’t exactly leveling up with this doppler meatsack.”

The One Guy only smiled, which made him look dumber than any doppler I’d ever seen before. It was nice camouflage. I had to give him that. No one would suspect in a million years that his mind was inside that doppler’s idiot brain and body.

“Wait. Is that really your body in there?” Harper asked. The One Guy continued to smile, but didn’t offer up any explanations. “Suit yourself, dickface. You do realize our job is to protect the One Guy, right? Transport him to DC. Not protect and transport one of his dopplers. If you die in that body, not our fault.”

The smile faltered that time.

“She’s right,” I said. “The job is the body in that Dim box, not you in that doppler box.”

“You know it is me, Chase,” the One Guy replied. “Do not try to play a loophole. That is a game neither of you want to play.”

“We’ll see,” I said. “Harper?”

“On it,” Harper replied and clicked the walkie four times rapidly. There were two return clicks which Harper replied to with four more rapid clicks.

The truck began to slow and the One Guy looked around, surprised.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “This stop was not scheduled.”

“Listen, pal, you can’t throw wrenches into well-oiled machines and expect nothing to break,” I said as I waited for the truck to come to a complete stop. “Black Box Inc. needs to have a quick company meeting.”

“I will join you.”

“No. You won’t,” Harper said in a voice that even the One Guy couldn’t argue with.

The back of the truck opened and Lassa peered inside.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“This guy,” I said as I moved past the One Guy’s doppler body to the sliding door.

“The doppler?” Lassa asked.

“The One Guy in a doppler,” Harper said, joining me.

Lassa growled and shook his head. “Dude . . .”

15.

“GODDAMN ONE GUY,” I said as I paced back and forth by the side of the road. The truck was pulled well off the shoulder of a heavily wooded two lane highway, and only one car had come by since we’d stopped. “Is this shit better or worse for us? I’m voting goddamn worse.”

“Because?” Lassa asked. He held up his hands when I gave him a harsh look. “Playing devil’s advocate, dude.”

“Worse because we had the asshole contained. Now we don’t,” Harper said.

“That,” I said, pointing at Harper. “A contained One Guy is a safe One Guy. Having him out and about, even in a doppler body, means we’re dealing with variables that none of us can calculate. We all know he’s a homicidal maniac at his core. The goddamn son of a bitch will try to screw us over and kill us at some point.”

“We’ve known that from the start,” Harper said. “That part hasn’t changed.”

“The part about him being contained in a box has changed.”

“I still don’t get why he put his mind in a doppler,” Lassa said. “Why not bring more dopplers along to guard him if he was worried about us double-crossing him?”

“He told us his four reasons,” I said. “I told you his four reasons. They make sense.” I held up a hand before Lassa could argue. “But you’re right. He has an agenda beyond those reasons. It’s the unknown fifth reason we have to watch out for.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harper said. “He was gonna screw us somehow. We include this into the mix and go from here. This was never gonna be an easy job. You didn’t think it was, did you, Chase?”

“What? No. But I thought it would be a job with the One Guy in a goddamn box! Not chattering away from that monkey-faced moron head.”

“Monkey-faced moron head,” Lassa chuckled. “Nice.”

“Uh, hey, guys?” Troy said as he stuck his head out from the cab’s passenger window. “We’re losing travel time here, ya know? Getting off schedule. Not trying to bust balls or anything, but I am on an hourly rate. It goes past a certain point and we’re talking time and a half. You guys know that? Yeah?”

“We stick to the route, we stick to the plan,” Harper said. “I’ll figure out how to deal with this wrinkle.”

“I could put the doppler in a box too,” I said. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I’ll do! Put the idiot body in a box and send that to the Dim. Deal was to keep the One Guy here, but he’s not exactly the One Guy, is he?”

“He might argue with you there, dude,” Lassa said and started walking towards the cab of the truck. “But I’ll let you two work that out. We’re getting back on the road in one minute. Best get back there and get set.”

“Harp?” I asked as we walked to the sliding door and shoved it up.

“Let me handle this, Chase,” Harper said. “If it looks like the best way to deal with numbnuts and his stupid switch then I’ll let you know.”

“Let him know what, if I may ask?” the One Guy said. While sitting in my recliner. “Are you two plotting to put me in a second box? Is that it? Tsk tsk. I do not agree to that plan. Do it and you create an entirely new set of problems for yourselves.”

“Get out of my chair or I let Harper carve that doppler face of yours to shreds,” I said as I hopped into the back of the truck. I waited for Harper to hop up then yanked the door down, plunging us into that sickly green light of the glow sticks. “Harp? You cool with some whittling?”

“Always.”

“You guys get so serious, so fast,” the One Guy said. “Nothing but violence as a threat. Have you considered positive reinforcements?”

“I positively will slash that ugly mug if you don’t move,” Harper said.

“Thanks for the positivity, Harp,” I said.

“You bet.”

The One Guy made a huge production of standing up from my chair then gave a little bow like he was doing me a favor.

“Your throne, sir,” he said.

I bit back more than a few replies. I couldn’t respond to every little thing the asshole did. I’d run out of reactions before we were halfway to our destination. And the One Guy knew it. He’d been testing me since we were kids. Sometimes with violence, but mostly with the endless mind games. This shit was simply one more test.

But a test of what?

Was his endgame to see how I work up close? To see what kind of strain keeping a Dim box active put on me? Was his goal to watch me for a weakness he could exploit? To watch how I interacted with Harper? She with me?

I almost screamed from all the questions slamming around in my brain.

Goddamn One Guy . . .

The truck lurched as I sat down and two of the dopplers stumbled slightly. The One Guy whirled on them, slapping one across the face while punching the other in the gut. They shared a brain so they both grabbed for their cheeks and their bellies, oofing at the same time.

“If I wanted stumblers, I would have hired zombies as my bodyguards,” the One Guy snarled. “Keep your footing or lose your heads.”

Confusion reigned. The dopplers had no idea how to handle one of their own speaking to them like that. Even the doppler connected to the mind in the One Guy’s true body was perplexed. I could only imagine what the doppler in the box was thinking. His little mind must have been about to snap.

After a moment of some serious tension, the dopplers straightened and nodded to their boss.

“Sorry,” they said. “Forgot.”

The odd one out only nodded. The one in the box was probably nodding too, but didn’t quite know why or at what. The whole situation almost made me feel sorry for the dopplers. Almost.

The truck was back on the road and up to speed and none of us said anything, only listened to the road noise coming in through the armored walls of the cargo area. But the lack of talk couldn’t last forever. Not with the One Guy around.

“Does it hurt at all?” he asked me.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, pal,” I replied.

“Working the Dim. Does it ever hurt to do it?”

I shrugged.

“Come on, Chase. How can answering that question possibly put you at a disadvantage?”

“By giving you information. I’m not in the mood to give you anything, pal. So clap the trap shut and let’s all wait this hell ride out, okay?”

“So, it does hurt,” the One Guy continued, obviously willing to hold a one-sided conversation. I sure as shit wasn’t going to indulge him. “Is it an aching pain or a sharp pain? Every time you work with the Dim or only on some occasions? Perhaps when you are tired after a long day of playing like you actually matter in the world.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Chase. He’s baiting. Let it go,” Harper warned.

I wanted to let it go. I really did. Pushing my buttons was a specialty of the One Guy’s. I knew that. But . . . “No, what does that mean?” I asked. “Playing like I actually matter in the world. I matter. Everyone matters.”

“See, I thought you’d say that,” the One Guy said. “Despite that cynicism you work so hard to hold up like a warning sign to everyone around you, there’s an idealist inside there. You care about people, Chase. It’s sweet.”

“Nope,” I said and reached for one of the coolers close to my chair. I opened it and snagged another beer. “Harper is right. I need to let it go. You have an agenda, pal. I refuse to be part of it.”

“Chase. Chase, Chase, Chase.”

“That’s his name, dickwad,” Harper said. “How about you keep it outta your mouth?”

“Did I ruffle the killer’s feathers too?” the One Guy asked. He nodded at the beer in my hands as I popped the top. “May I have one?”

“Didn’t bring enough to share,” I said.

“Not one? Chase, come on. I promise to be nice if you share your beer with me. No more needling, or baiting as the killer calls it.” He crossed his finger over his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die. A long time after this. In bed with many, many young women around me.”

“Cute,” Harper said.

“Do you think so?”

“No. Fuck off.”

“Chase? A beer? One beer? Come on now, don’t be a Grinch. Hey. Remember that one Christmas when you were maybe nine or so and the Grinch was on TV? Your uncle’s girlfriend changed the channel and you argued with her. What happened next? Remind me.”

I plucked a beer from the cooler and winged it at the One Guy’s head. It nailed him right between the eyes. That doppler body weebled and wobbled, but it didn’t fall down. Close, but those trunk-like legs kept it upright.

“Ow,” the One Guy said as he rubbed his face and bent down to retrieve the beer can.

“You get the beer in exchange for shutting the fuck up,” I said. “One more word and I’ll reach down your throat and syphon that beer right out.”

“That’s a graphic thought,” the One Guy said then pretended to zip his lips.

He opened the beer, put the can to his mouth, widened his eyes, then mimed unzipping his lips so he could take a drink then zipped them back up and ahhhh’d behind a closed mouth.

Every ounce of self-control. That’s what it took not to grab a pistol from Harper and put two slugs in his forehead.

The drive was going to last forever. I wasn’t going to make it.

Harper’s hand on my shoulder steadied me somewhat. I slowly turned to look at her and she was smiling.

“I ever tell you about how I was strung up by my toenails when I was nine because I stole a piece of cake from Daphne’s fridge? I had to wait for each toenail to rip off before I could fall to the floor in a bloody mess. Only way she would let me go.”

I blinked a couple of times then laughed.

“Yes, you did tell me that story. Didn’t you go steal another piece of cake as soon as you could walk again?”

“You bet your ass I did,” Harper said then focused her attention on the One Guy. “Even Daphne couldn’t stop me.”

“Point taken,” the One Guy said and sipped more beer. “I’ll play nice.”

“No, you won’t,” Harper said. “But at least you know I won’t either.”

She fetched a beer. We drank beer in an uncomfortable and loaded silence while the tires of the truck crunched below us on a backroad highway that was in desperate need of some new asphalt.

16.

I WAS CLOSE TO dozing when I felt the truck begin to slow. Then it pulled off the road and Lassa clicked three times from the walkie.

“Gassing up,” Harper said. “Everyone stay here while I take care of that.”

“Shouldn’t the troll or the yeti handle that?” the One Guy asked. It was the most he’d said in over an hour. “It would seem”—

“It would seem like a good idea to shut the fuck up,” Harper said as she opened her crate and began stuffing her hexed pockets with pistols and blades. “Stay here and be ready. We’re hitting the road as soon as that gas gauge hits the big F.”

“F is for fun with you, Harper. We all know that,” the One Guy said as she moved past him, making sure to bump him hard with her elbow. “Oh, excuse me. Didn’t mean to get in your way there. My apologies, Ms. Kyles.”

“Damn right,” Harper said and opened the sliding door enough that she could slip underneath and was gone.

Leaving me with the One Guy.

“She’s always been so protective of you,” he said.

I opened a cooler and pulled out two pre-made sub sandwiches.

“One of those for me?” he asked.

“No,” I replied as I unwrapped one and began to eat.

“Chase, listen. I get that you feel played. Totally understand that. But, you have to look at the situation from my perspective.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Okay. You don’t have to, but maybe you should anyway.” He held up his meaty doppler hands and gestured to the truck we were stuck in. “When will we ever get another chance to sit and hash out our history? It would be healthy for us to cleanse some old wounds. We can forge a new future together. One that is beneficial to us both.”

I chewed and stared, chewed and stared. I didn’t reply until I’d finished the first sandwich and started in on the second. “Are you seriously trying to get me to work for you right now? The goddamn balls on you.” I looked him up and down. “I assume dopplers have balls.”

“Got balls,” two of the dopplers replied.

“Good to know. Shut up.”

“Chase, I’m not asking you to work for me, but to work with me. Asheville can be ours. Hell, old friend, more than just Asheville.”

He was so confident that he even got a doppler’s face to look semi-intelligent as he grinned down at me. I ate, I stared. Then I set the sandwich aside and shifted in my chair, leaning forward so my forearms rested on my knees.

“You ever call me old friend again and I will kill you.”

He sighed. “Typical response. I should have expected it.”

“Not done talking. Our past? Pure hell. You were evil to me. Not as evil as the adults in the house, but they at least had the excuse of being meth-addled junkies. You? A sadistic bastard that locked onto me as soon as you showed up.”

“Now, that right there is bullshit, Chase,” he replied with a snarl. “I was in that house first. Or, should we say, trailer, because calling it a house would be generous. Either way, it was my home before you arrived. I came and went, mostly went, because, as you say, it was hell. But do not ever think you had more rights to that place than I did. You think you were in Hell? You have no idea.”

“I have a pretty good”—

“No, you don’t!” he roared.

The dopplers next to him jumped and looked about for the threat. Seeing none, they focused on me and began to walk forward. The One Guy put out a hand and grabbed one by the elbow. They all halted, but were seriously confused.

I’d have to watch that. Confused dopplers were dangerous. They tended to start crushing and killing by default until they understood what was going on.

“Lost your cool, Leonard,” I said. Knife in gut and twisted. “Better get it back before Harper is done gassing up the truck.”

“Don’t call me that,” the One Guy hissed.

He went for my Achilles’ heel earlier. I was only returning the favor. Leonard Maguire. That was his name. There were maybe two or three people left alive that knew that about him. Names had power and he’d gone to a lot of trouble to wipe his out of existence.

The dopplers were itching to put a beat down on me. I could see them shaking with anticipated violence. One gesture from the One Guy and they’d break me in two. I set my sandwich on top of the closest cooler and slowly, carefully stood up. Dim smoke began to swirl from my palms.

“Really?” the One Guy asked, his eyes flicking to my hands. “All I wanted was a conversation.”

“You never want conversation. You want conflict. You want a fight, a battle, a war. I’ve watched you slowly take control of the extradimensional elements in Asheville for years now. There isn’t a piece of the strange that doesn’t have your fingerprints on it.”

“I’m an industrious entrepreneur. No different than any of the businessmen and women that are kicking tenants out of apartment buildings to make way for high-rise hotels. I see opportunities and I take them.”

I laughed. “Interesting how you compare yourself to the assholes destroying our city.”

“Oh, no, Chase, you got me all wrong. Everything I do is to protect our city, not destroy it. While my tactics may be unorthodox, they do serve a purpose. As hard as it is for you to believe, I do care.”

“About yourself. Only.”

The Dim pouring from my palms wrapped around my hands as I made fists. The black smoke looked like boxing gloves, which was my intent, but the Dim was going to pack way more of a punch than leather wrapped around cotton batting.

The One Guy patted his doppler form then smiled. “This body can take a beating, Chase.”

“I’m counting on it,” I replied, taking a step towards him. “No one will complain if we arrive in DC with a bruised and battered doppler in tow while your real body stays mark-free.”

“But if I fight back then you can say one of my dopplers went for you. It may not nullify the contract, but it gives you a considerable amount of wiggle room. Good for you, Chase. Good for you.”

I was playing at something very dangerous. But I was sick and tired of thugs like the One Guy, like Daphne, like the DEX for that matter, pushing me around to fit into their agendas. I didn’t have the energy to play nice anymore. And without Sharon around to be the voice of reason, I was more than happy to let my previous life, my street kid persona from long ago, come out for a few minutes.

In short: I needed a good goddamn brawl or I was going to explode.

Two more steps and I brought up my Dim gloves. The two connected dopplers moved to get between me and the One Guy doppler. The odd doppler out stood there, looking lost and more confused than ever. I went for him, surprising them all.

The doppler grunted as I slammed my right fist into his crotch. Then he squeaked, grabbed his balls, and toppled over. The doppler in the Dim box was probably feeling just as uncomfortable.

With a fallen doppler between me and the two dopplers still active, I went for the One Guy. He was gonna get a face full of Dim and then he’d learn what pain was.

Except that wasn’t how my plan worked out. I caught a doppler fist to my left cheek instead. The One Guy had always been a better fighter than I was. And a doppler body was made for fighting more than his real body. I had miscalculated and was about to pay for it.

I did get in a couple jabs to his gut, but I was really aiming for his crotch, so the jabs didn’t have the power I wanted them to. I lost the momentum at that point. The next second I was being picked up by the One Guy as he grabbed me by the leg and the arm. Then I was flying across the truck.

I cried out as my back hit the armor plating. If bullets couldn’t get through it, neither could a Chase.

I tossed the Dim gloves and went back to what I knew best. Dim rods. The Dim gloves were pure machismo. They were ego. My ego was about to begin leaking from my ears if I didn’t regroup.

The Dim rods shot from my palms before I even tried to rise, and I swiped with my left at the One Guy’s knee. He jumped back, but I clipped his knee cap and he grunted. If he’d been human, I would have torn that patella right out of his pants. No moment to waste, I got to my feet and swiped with my right rod. He ducked back, but came up against his dopplers and had nowhere to retreat.

Our eyes met and in that second I knew we were probably going to kill each other.

Did I lose my shit? Yes. Fully admit that. Too much history between us. I should have known better than to take the job. I acted too casual. Thought I could shove all that history and abuse and plain shitty One Guy down into a deep, dark mental hole and focus on the work. I was wrong.

Did losing my shit feel good, though? Hell yes. Wrong or not, on the wrong side of a client was where I found myself and I figured that the only way out was through. Kind of a theme in my life.

He rushed me; I attacked with both Dim rods.

Neither of us connected.

My feet went out from under me as the truck was rocked by an explosion. The wall across from us buckled inward, the armor bowing against the attack. Hexes are great when fending off magic attacks. Not so great when what I had to assume was a rocket slams into the side of the truck. Rocket beats magic.

My Dim rods blinked out as the One Guy went sprawling over my legs.

“No,” he hissed, but he wasn’t talking to me. “Too soon. Too soon!”

“I knew it,” I growled as I tried to shove him off.

The movement didn’t matter. The truck was hit again and that time it began to topple. Sunlight brightened the cargo area as the armor was torn open and the truck ended up on its side. I stared up at the sun that was high overhead and blinked a few times as the ringing in my ears blocked out almost all sound.

Almost all sound. Hard to block out an enraged yeti. They have some serious lungs.

Something went flying across the open hole in the truck’s wall. Then another something and another. The last something had the vague shape of a human being, but seemed to be missing the arm parts most humans have. Even my explosion-stunned brain had an inkling as to what happened to those arm parts.

“Get up,” the One Guy shouted into my face. He pulled me to my feet and shook me. “You have to protect the Dim box! Protect my body!”

“Back off, asshole,” was what I thought I said, but I could tell by the look on the ugly doppler face that I probably said, “Buckle nuff, aspic.” Or something like that.

He gave me a hard slap. Then another. That did the trick.

“Hit me again and I gut you,” I said as I formed a Dim blade with my left hand and placed it against his belly.

“Don’t let the blood ghast get me! Send my body away into the Dim!” he snarled as he yanked my face close to his. “Do your job and protect it!”

“I haven’t made a key,” I gasped. “I send the box away and your body is lost forever, pal.”

“Then make a key!”

“Let me the hell go first.”

He did and I braced myself against the ceiling of the truck which had become the wall. The Dim box holding the One Guy’s body had been knocked all the way to the sliding door. I had most of the truck to cover to get to it. Not a problem, usually.

Except the sliding door went flying open and six men with automatic weapons appeared.

“Not yet!” the One Guy yelled as the men opened fire.

17.

THE THING ABOUT being stolen as a child and raised in the faerie dimension, especially by the Fae, is that not only does that stolen child learn some serious weapons skills, hand-to-hand combat, and all around badass moves, but that same child learns a good deal about battle hexes. The Fae love their battle hexes.

So does Harper.

I dove behind one of the dopplers, but before my view was blocked by the muscle-bound moron, I saw two of the gunmen become living torches. Their bodies lit up like sparklers and they began to scream, their assault rifles clattering to the pavement as they collapsed to scorched knees.

The doppler I hid behind jerked and shook as bullet after bullet pierced flesh. Lucky for me, the body was so thick that none of the bullets reached me. That gave me time to form a solid shield of Dim over me, which in turn gave me time to get up into a crouch and assess the scene.

Two of three non-One Guy dopplers were dead, including the one by me. The last one still fighting was taking some serious lead to his body, but he was on the attack, forcing through the onslaught to get to the gunmen.

He almost made it, but he took one too many shots to his Cro-Magnon forehead and that thick skull shattered, sending what little brains he had spilling out across the truck. I took that as my cue and jumped up, Dim shield in front of me, and charged the end of the truck just as two more gunmen became engulfed in flames.

My attack happened in less than five seconds. From the door coming up to me reaching the edge of the truck where the last two gunmen were turning to face the new threat, less than five seconds. But every step, every foot and inch of those five seconds felt like an eternity.

A shaved yeti entered the picture as he grabbed one of the gunmen from behind by the head and yanked up hard, taking said head and spine straight out of the guy’s body. The last gunman wasn’t so lucky. Before Lassa could get to him, his skin began to bubble and boil, but didn’t catch fire. He fell to his knees, crying like a baby. Lassa paused and looked towards an approaching Harper.

“We’re gonna have a chat,” Harper said. Without looking at me she added, “You good, Chase?”

“I’m good,” I said and let the Dim shield disappear. I needed to conserve energy until we knew what exactly we were up against.

“One Guy?” Harper asked as she closed on the gunman.

“I live,” the One Guy called from deeper inside the truck.

“Lassa? We clear?” Harper asked as her hand closed around the throat of the gunman and squeezed.

“We’re clear,” Lassa replied as he spun in a slow circle, his eyes taking in everything, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air, his muscles tensed and ready in case he was wrong. I’d watched him do the same thing in a few other situations, so I knew he wasn’t even close to letting his guard down. “For now. But we need to move. Troy is already off hunting for a new vehicle.”

“Where’s the blood ghast?” I asked.

Harper paused in her throat squeezing, letting the gunman have a precious breath of air, and looked at me.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“The One Guy was in on this,” I said. “He knew there was an attack coming. He said it was a blood ghast, though. Then he kept yelling too soon.”

All eyes looked past me and into the truck. The One Guy only sat where he was, blood and soot covering most of his face. He flipped all of us off.

“Interesting,” Harper said as she crouched in front of the gunman, her attention back on him. “That asshole hire you?”

The gunman’s eyes shifted towards the One Guy doppler. He shook his head as much as Harper’s grip would let him. Harper sighed.

“The One Guy, not the doppler,” she said. “Did the One Guy hire you?”

“Don’t . . . know . . . who . . . that . . . is,” the gunman choked out.

“He wouldn’t,” the One Guy said. “He’s simply muscle. Muscle that was supposed to be waiting down the road several hours from now!”

Harper returned her attention to the gunman. “He hired you to what? Kill us and make it look like he was dead too? A clean getaway for this scumbag?”

“What . . . ?” The gunman couldn’t finish. His face turned blue and eyes began to bug out of his head.

“Harp,” I said calmly.

She let go and the gunman fell over onto his side, coughing and gasping for air.

“Talk or die, bitch,” Harper snarled.

“Gonna . . . die . . . anyway,” he grunted.

I walked out of the truck and knelt next to him. “It’s how you die that matters. Messy like your friends or behind bars many, many years from now.”

“Won’t . . . live that . . . long.”

“Then you talk,” Harper snapped, turning to face the One Guy. “Spill it, asshole.”

“Hold on,” I said. “Kill the hex, Harp.”

“What?”

“Kill the hex. Now.”

Harper glared at me then snapped her fingers. The gunman’s skin stopped bubbling. It was still messed up, but wasn’t about to cook off his flesh anymore.

“Who hired you?” I asked.

“Chase, we know who”—

“Harper, let me ask the questions,” I said. I focused on the gunman. “Who hired you?”

“Don’t . . . know what . . . you mean,” he said, his voice weak and defeated.

Sometimes letting the pain go away for a while was better than making it worse. I knew he was terrified of Harper turning the hex back on, I could see it in his eyes. I planned on using that terror.

“But you were hired to kill all of us except the One Guy, right?”

“Huh?” He looked honestly confused. “We weren’t hired. Why do you keep asking that? We were sent to kill everyone. No survivors.”

“You idiot!” the One Guy shouted. “Those were not your orders!”

“Yeah, they were,” I said. “Because you didn’t hire these guys. Didn’t you hear him, pal? They weren’t hired. They were sent.”

Harper had been moving slowly closer to the One Guy, but she paused at that revelation.

“Lassa. Watch him,” she said.

Lassa switched positions with her so he could keep an eye on the One Guy while Harper returned to the gunman. The man flinched and started to whimper, but she waved his whining away.

“Shut up. I’m not going to hex you,” she said as she knelt and yanked up one of his shirt sleeves. She frowned then shoved him over and yanked up his other sleeve. “And here we are.”

There was a black-inked tattoo on the inside of his bicep. It was a total amateur job, but distinct enough to look like a DNA helix morphing into two snakes wrapped around each other.

“Crap tat,” Harper said. “They’re recruiting too fast.”

“They?” I asked. “What am I looking at?”

“Portal Patriots,” Harper said. “Anti-extradimensional militia. Humans first, screw the rest of the beings and their dimensions.”

“So racists,” I said.

“Pretty much, dude,” Lassa said.

“You run into them?” I asked him.

“I’m a yeti, dude. If I let my fur grow, I catch looks. And not of the sexy kind.”

“That it?” I asked the gunman. “Are you part of the Portal Patriots?” He grunted something, but he was fading fast. I turned back to the truck and the One Guy. “You’re in bed with these assholes?”

“What? No. I didn’t hire them,” the One Guy replied. “These corpses aren’t part of my plan.”

“And that plan is . . . ?” Harper asked. She was done with the gunman. Her attention was on the One Guy. “Time to talk. Contract is null and void, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Don’t you have to vote on it?” the One Guy smirked as much as a doppler face could smirk.

“Head of security,” she countered. “My call. Read the fine print, dumbass. We are now in survival mode, so I’m in charge.”

“I wouldn’t argue with her, dude,” Lassa said.

“Chase?” the One Guy asked.

“Harper’s got the conch,” I said. “You’re in her merciless hands now.”

Here was the thing, though: no matter what the One Guy said, I wasn’t going to believe a word of it. He was lying through his doppler teeth. I’d let Harper interrogate him, but I had no intention of trusting his answers, no matter the questions. The One Guy would never tell us the truth and I knew that.

The trick was to make him think he had us snowed. That way, he’d keep talking and eventually I could stitch the truth together from his many strands of deceit.

“Harp?” I said. “Have at it.”

The One Guy shifted uncomfortably. Despite his pathological need to lie, I did see honest fear on that doppler face. Not much, only hints, but enough to make me wonder if the One Guy’s mind was having a hard time thinking with the doppler’s brain. That hunk of grey matter may not have been firing as fast as he was used to.

“All right, all right,” he said finally. “I’ll lay it out there and maybe we can make a new deal? Simplify things so I get to DC alive?”

“That was the original deal,” Harper said. “What part of your plan don’t we know about?”

“All of it,” the One Guy said. He tried to laugh it off, but none of us was smiling. Harper was downright salivating to kill the guy. “Yes, I thought this attack was the one I set up. The truck is supposed to be ambushed, way down the road from here, and make it look like I had been killed. I wouldn’t be, of course. I’d be off and ready to live a new life as someone else. Away from blood ghasts and government bullshit.”

“You got in over your head with the DEX, huh?” Harper asked. “Boo freaking hoo.”

“No, no, they got in over their heads and have been too stupid to recover,” he said and pointed at the bodies. “They have a mole, you moron. One that is working for the Portal Patriots and ratting out all the CIs. My deal with the DEX was very beneficial until . . .”

“Until CIs started getting ripped open by blood ghasts,” I said.

“Yeah. Until that.”

“Huh. Then answer me this, master planner. Why did you yell at me in the truck to not let the blood ghast get you?”

“That was for show.”

“Nope. Don’t buy it. You don’t do anything simply for show.” Of course, he did. The One Guy was all about the show. “Spill it.”

There was the sound of sirens far off in the distance. For the first time since the attack I realized we weren’t in Asheville anymore. We were in the parking lot of a rural gas station with scorched corpses laying on the pavement and an overturned truck with a huge hole in it.

We were about to have a lot of problems.

“Cliff’s Notes, bitch,” Harper said as her left hand glowed bright blue. “Or I freeze your nuts off then feed them to you like frozen grapes.”

“Damn,” Lassa muttered.

“Okay, okay, I was going to summon a blood ghast and use the cover of that to force Chase to open the Dim box so I could, uh, reconnect with my real body,” the One Guy said. “From there it was all sleight of hand. Doppler dies, I make it look like my real body dies, you guys get away and tell the tale of my demise. I’m free to hide in a tropical paradise that I bought off some two-bit dictator with debt problems. Game over.”

Lassa and Harper glanced at me. They weren’t buying it, either, but knew better than to play their hands and say that out loud. The holes in the One Guy’s story were huge. I was right; that doppler brain was making it hard for the One Guy to pull his usual scumbag mind tricks. Good.

The sirens were getting louder, but that wasn’t the loudest noise. The screeching of tires got our attention and we turned to see a minivan come barreling into the parking lot, a very alarmed Troy at the wheel.

“In! In! In!” he yelled as the side door slid open. “We got ten seconds! Maybe!”

Harper leapt at the One Guy and grabbed his doppler arm, dragging him out of the truck and into the minivan as Lassa scrambled to grab Harper’s weapons crate while I scratched a Dim key off the box then sent it into the space between dimensions. We tumbled into the van as Troy hit the gas and we were gone from the scene before the flashing lights of the local police could be seen in the rear view mirror.

“Lassa!” Harper shouted.

“I got it!” Lassa shouted back.

“Chase!” Harper shouted.

“I got it!” I shouted to her as I held up the Dim key. Then I shoved the key into the One Guy’s face. “You ever want to see your real body again, you’ll tell us every damn thing you know about what’s going on. Am I clear?”

For one second I thought he was going to try to snatch the key from my hand. But he came to his senses, knowing it wouldn’t do him a bit of good, and his eyes flicked towards Harper. All the tension left his doppler body and he closed his eyes.

“Get comfy,” he said. “This is gonna take a while.”

I’m sure it was . . .

18.

THE EXPLANATION didn’t take as long as it could have. Harper’s playing with her goblin sickle may have expedited the exposition.

“You sent the blood ghast after us at the Raven’s Perch,” I said. I kept my voice even and calm despite the fact I wanted to get back to raging pissed and rekindle our scrap from the truck. “All to force our hands to help you.”

“Yes,” the One Guy said.

“What about the first blood ghast?” Harper asked.

“I didn’t send that one,” the One Guy said. “That thing is still loose in Asheville somewhere looking for me.”

“No. I’m talking about the first one,” Harper said as she twirled the sickle around then aimed the tip of the blade at one of the One Guy’s eyes. “The one that killed those kids before the extradimensional happening.”

“What answer lets me keep my eye?” the One Guy replied.

“No promises,” Harper said.

The One Guy shrugged. “Not my eye anyway. Doesn’t matter.” His lip curled up. “Yeah. That was me. I met someone that started showing me . . . things. I didn’t mean for the kids to get ripped apart, but the magic got out of hand and shit happens.”

“That someone that was showing you things? He the one that banished the blood ghast?” Harper asked.

“Yep. Did it without using a body part. Fun fact”—

“Say fun fact again and I take both eyes,” Harper snarled.

“Right. Becalm yourself, Harper. What I was going to tell you all is kobolds are far from the only beings that can be dismembered and used to summon and control blood ghasts.”

“And control? Of course,” I said as I leaned back in my seat. His plan to use a blood ghast to create a false death made a little more sense. Good on him for fixing that hole in his story.

Troy was driving with Lassa riding shotgun. Harper was in the middle seat row with the One Guy. I was in the way back scrunched next to Harper’s weapons crate. I could barely nudge it an inch to give myself more room. Lassa had picked it up like it was a throw pillow. One more of many reasons never to pick a fight with a yeti.

“What’d you want the kobold head for?” I asked. “You’re using some other being’s parts to do your blood ghast dirty work, so why the kobold head?”

“Come on, Chase. You’re a smart guy. Figure it out,” the One Guy said.

“Left or right?” Harper asked.

“No, hold on,” I said. “He can keep his eyes. I can figure this out.”

I wished I’d grabbed a cooler instead of scratching off a key from the One Guy’s Dim box. I was starving and it made my head hurt. But despite the hunger headache, I was still able to think it all through; to think like the One Guy.

I said after a couple of seconds, “That kobold head was a lead you planned to follow. It was part of the royal line that’s being used to summon blood ghasts and kill CIs. You were going to try to trace the head back to the people doing the killing. Reverse engineering the hit, right?”

“There you go,” the One Guy said. “I knew you had the brainpower to connect the dots. It’s why I’ve let you stick around, Chase. You’re resourceful.” He spread his hands and almost lost a finger from Harper’s sickle. “Yikes. Easy there. I was only going to include all of you in the compliment. You may not think it, but I respect Black Box Inc. You found a niche and you own it. That takes guts.”

Flattery that he knew we’d all mentally call bullshit on. He was directing our minds back to loathing him instead of looking for the obvious inconsistencies of his tall tale. He was good. It would take the entire trip of me listening to his BS to be able to see the whole picture, but I was patient, no matter what my external attitude showed. Dealing with the One Guy was a long game.

“What parts?” Harper asked. “What being are you using to summon and control blood ghasts with?”

“Oh, fine, I’ll tell you,” the One Guy said. He eyed the goblin sickle and smiled. “Once you put that away and promise not to attack me when I reveal my little secret.”

She did not put the sickle away.

“Harp,” I said. “He’s contained. You can pull it back out and lop off any body part of his you want if he tries anything.”

Harper slid the goblin sickle inside her jacket and eased back from the One Guy.

“Thank you,” he said and took a theatrical deep breath. “If you want complete control over a blood ghast, not to mention summoning and banishing power with only one hex and body part then you must work for it.”

He pointed a finger at Harper.

“You find a Harper. Or unfortunate children like her,” he continued.

Silence.

A long silence, followed by:

“What?”

“Huh?”

“Dude, that doesn’t make sense.”

“The Stolen,” Troy said. “You guys never heard of the magic the Stolen possess?” He glanced over his shoulder at Harper. “I mean, everyone knows you got one in the company.” He returned his attention to the road. “Plenty of babes out there that kick ass. Not many that kick ass and are a Stolen.”

“Oh! Points to the troll!” the One Guy said and clapped his hands together. “You, my muscled friend, have made my day.”

“Harp? What’s he talking about?” I asked.

“I don’t . . . I don’t know,” Harper admitted and I could tell it pained her to do so.

She’d spent almost her entire childhood as a prisoner of the Fae, forced to train as an assassin until she was exiled by Daphne. I found it very hard to believe she didn’t know what Troy was talking about.

“Harp. Dude,” Lassa said.

Sounded like he didn’t buy it either.

“No. I don’t know,” Harper insisted.

“Troy knows. The One Guy knows. How do you not know?” I asked.

“Do you fucking know?” she shouted at me. “Or you?” She rounded on Lassa.

“Whoa. Cool it, Harp,” Lassa said and held up his hands. He was simultaneously trying to calm her and protect himself in case she went nutso. “I know a lot, but not everything, dude. Yetis are a mountain culture, not a magic culture.”

“And humans are clueless about most everything,” I said. “I know more than most, but cut me a break, Harp.”

“How about you cut me a break, Chase?” she spat at me. The One Guy had hit a nerve, that was for sure. “I was the one taken. I was the one brainwashed and trained then sent packing for no reason that anyone told me about. One day I was the prodigy the next I was back in Asheville, forced to live on the streets with a bunch of wussy ass teens that could barely wipe their butts, let alone protect themselves. You think I don’t wonder about the why every single day of my life?”

The One Guy raised a hand. “May I enlighten you, Harper? I have done my homework. Even called in a favor or two to get the full story. That’s how I learned of the, well, properties of the Stolen. All in trying to unwrap the mysterious enigma of Ms. Harper Kyles.”

“Don’t kill him,” I said as I watched Harper tense even more. The condescension in the One Guy’s voice made me want to kill him too.

“Talk,” Harper said through gritted teeth.

“Children are taken all the time by the faeries and exchanged for changelings,” the One Guy explained. “That explains much of the criminal underworld in human society. You would not believe how many of the more successful crime lords are actually changelings. Of course, most have no idea what they truly are, and in truth, it makes no difference one way or the other.

“Now, let me make something clear, only a small percentage of the children taken to the faerie dimension are the Stolen. There is a difference. Most humans are raised to be slaves and servants for the faerie elite. Workers that can’t fight back because humans are shit at magic by nature and in the faerie dimension? Forget about it.”

“Then who are the Stolen?” Harper asked. Her voice was even and measured. Good for her.

“Oh, those are the special children. The babies sought after across the globe. Only a few come around in every generation. The children that have that spark, that predisposition towards the magical. Left alone they would become more than human. But taken by the faerie, they become the Stolen. Power exponential. Some have become the greatest magic users ever. You’ve probably heard of a few.”

“Daphne got herself one and turned her into a killer instead of a witch or sorceress? Sounds like a waste, pal,” I said.

“Depends on what you want killed,” the One Guy said. “And don’t ask. I don’t know that part. But it has to be god level. At the very least, dragon level.”

“You think Harper can kill a dragon?” Lassa asked. “Dude, I love her like family, but that’s a bit much.”

“I could,” Harper said so quietly that we almost didn’t hear her over the road noise.

“Of course you can,” the One Guy said. “That’s why the Mars Hill dragons don’t worry me. Worst case scenario, we have a Harper in town.”

I studied Harper’s face. After a few seconds she looked directly at me.

“What?” she asked.

“It’s up to you to believe him,” I said.

“Yeah, I know,” Harper replied. She glanced at Troy. “He full of it?”

“Sure he is,” Troy said. “But not on this subject. He’s talking straight about what the Stolen are. I can’t say that you’re one for sure, but the One Guy ain’t lying about the Stolen in general.”

“Doesn’t change a thing, Harp,” I said to her. “Being a Stolen. You’re still you.”

“And what a marvelous you she is,” the One Guy said. “I should be panicking right now, but look at the company I’m in. Super powerful Stolen child. A yeti with muscles to spare. A dickhead that has a gift for the Dim.”

“Fuck you, Leonard,” I said.

That sucked the air out of the minivan.

Lassa’s eyes went wide. He looked at me then looked at the One Guy.

“Leonard?” Lassa asked.

“I should kill you for that,” the One Guy said. No lie in that threat.

“Shut up,” Harper said and flicked his nose with her right forefinger. “I’ve known your name for years. Chase told me a long time ago. It isn’t that much of a secret.”

The minivan swerved and began to slow down.

“Sorry, Troy. Are we distracting you with all this Stolen shit?” I asked.

No response. The minivan continued to slow down.

“Troy? Dude?” Lassa asked.

Troy began to shake and gasp for air.

“Get . . . out,” he hissed. His foot hit the brake and the minivan slid sideways until coming to a jarring halt. “Get . . . out . . . now.”

Then Troy exploded as a blood ghast ripped free from his body.

We got out of the minivan.

19.

WE RAN AS FAST as we could to the cover of the woods that bordered the rural highway. That meant we had to leave Harper’s weapons chest behind. We were armed with only what was on us.

Or in my case, what I could make from the Dim. Which wouldn’t be much more than an icepick if I didn’t get some food soon.

The minivan shook like a bunch of drunk football fans were rocking it from side to side. It was impossible to see what was going on inside since the windows were coated with Troy, but I didn’t have any illusions that the blood ghast would stay contained for long.

“How . . . ?” Harper hissed as she started pulling weapons from her hexed pockets.

“No freaking clue, dude,” Lassa replied, taking a sawed-off shotgun and a machete from her. Only Harper would think to pack a machete. “Poor Troy.”

“Yes, poor Troy,” the One Guy said. “But he’s dead. Time to think of poor us.” He turned and looked at Harper. “May I?”

“Not a fucking chance, asshole,” Harper said as she tucked a .45 into one of my pockets and handed me a protein bar. “All I had on me.”

I wolfed it down. It didn’t do shit for the hole gnawing at my stomach, but it was better than nothing. Harper held out three magazines for the .45.

“Guns won’t help much,” I said, taking the magazines anyway.

“Not against that thing,” Harper said, pointing her chin at the suddenly still minivan. “But someone summoned it. The pistol is for that someone.”

“Not liking the quiet,” Lassa said and began to back farther into the foliage. “We should go, dudes. Now.”

“Yeah,” Harper agreed and patted me on the shoulder. “You got enough energy to keep up or does Lassa need to carry you?”

“I’ll keep up,” I said.

“Eh hem,” the One Guy said, holding out his hand. “It really would be best if we were all armed.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Harper said, ignoring his hand as she turned and took lead. “Come on.”

She broke into a brisk jog right off. There was no way I could keep up the pace as we dodged brambles and thick stands of young pine trees. I was exhausted from all the Dim work. My energy was better than if I had to keep the One Guy’s box active, but not by much. I’d been expecting a long truck ride to sit and eat, to recover from the Dim work of making that human sized box and keeping it active. That hadn’t happened.

We’d gone maybe fifty yards before we heard the minivan’s windows shatter and the shriek of the blood ghast. Out in the open, we didn’t stand much chance, but Harper kept jogging, her head swiveling back and forth as she studied the area while also leading us on.

To where? No freaking clue.

The sound of branches being broken and trees creaking grew louder behind us. The blood ghast was gaining and we had no backup plan in place.

“There,” Harper said as she slid to a halt and pointed to something off to our right. “We make our stand there.”

“You sure?” Lassa asked. “It’s not much protection.”

“It’ll be enough to buy us some time,” Harper said. “I have an idea.”

“Good idea or bad idea?” Lassa asked.

“Good for us, bad for me,” Harper said.

“Not liking the sound of that, Harp,” I said as I stumbled along, forcing myself to keep up as Harper led us to what looked like a hunk of tin covered in mold.

Basically, it was. In what must have been a clearing a few decades earlier, stood an old single-wide trailer. Saying that the trailer “stood” was being kind. The thing looked like a hard gryphon fart would knock it down.

“Come on,” Harper said as she kicked in the door then took a tentative step inside the trailer. The floor didn’t cave in so she took a few more steps then nodded. “This’ll work.”

We rushed inside and Lassa shut the door, not that it added any protection. We could still hear the blood ghast coming for us, shearing through the trees at full speed.

“How much body matter is needed?” Harper asked the One Guy, her goblin sickle suddenly jammed up under his chin. “Hair? A tooth? A finger?”

“That’s a very good question,” the One Guy said, his doppler face grinning wide, making him look like a carnival idiot from some old black and white movie. “But it is always better to be safe than sorry.”

“How much, asshole?” Harper snarled.

“Wait, what?” Lassa asked. “Harper, no way!”

“You are not cutting off a body part,” I said. “Not happening, Harp!”

“It is happening because that’s how we get rid of that thing out there. Piece of a Stolen,” Harper replied, her eyes, and sickle, never leaving the One Guy. “Now. How much? Tell the truth or you are no use to us.”

“Your job is to keep me alive, Harper,” the One Guy said.

“My duty is to keep my friends alive first,” Harper responded, spittle flying from her lips and onto the One Guy’s cheeks. “I’ll deal with whatever fallout comes from slicing your head off later.”

They locked eyes then the One Guy gave the slightest of nods. Any more of a nod and he would have sliced his own throat with the sickle.

“It depends,” he said. “If the blood ghast was summoned by a kobold part then even a fingertip from a Stolen should banish it. But if it was summoned by a Stolen part then it is a part to part ratio situation. I have no way of knowing which we are dealing with.”

“That right?” I asked. I took a step towards him, but was suddenly very lightheaded. Goddamn blood sugar.

“Yes, Chase, that is right,” the One Guy said. I could see a flicker in his doppler dead eyes and knew he saw me hesitate. The asshole didn’t miss much. “I didn’t summon this. None of my people summoned it. I liked that Troy troll. Resourceful. I was going to check his references and hire him when we returned home. No need to kill talent like that.”

I didn’t buy it, but I also couldn’t figure out the lie. Was he telling the truth? No way to know. Didn’t matter at that moment, though. What mattered was Harper.

“How much?” Harper said. I groaned. She shot me a look and held up a hand, and I backed off.

“How much?” she asked again, her voice flat and empty of all emotion.

The One Guy had maybe a second to live. I looked at Lassa and he shrugged. We were at the point where we were good with that. I think we both knew that the One Guy had way too many tricks up his sleeve for us to not get hurt bad. Harper willing to hack off hunks of herself to save us was proof of that.

Problem was we needed more information before we could really see where we stood in the grand scheme of the One Guy’s grand scheme. Killing him right then would be premature.

“Answer her,” I snapped at the One Guy.

“A couple ounces,” the One Guy said.

“A thumb or finger,” Harper said. “Big toe.”

“No, no, don’t waste digits,” the One Guy said. “Too valuable in a fighter like you. What you need is a little slice of thigh or take some flesh off your hip there. Women always have a little extra, even one in as fighting shape as you.”

“Yeah, huh, maybe not a good idea to talk about the hips, dude,” Lassa said.

“No, he’s right,” Harper said and pulled her sickle from the One Guy’s chin. She yanked up her shirt and stared at the flesh at the top of her hip. “Fuck.”

She sliced fast before we could say anything. Blood poured over the waist of her pants and she hissed, but didn’t cry out. A hunk of her flesh plopped onto the mildewed floor of the trailer.

Harper tossed Lassa the goblin sickle without saying a word. He caught it by the handle easily and we stared as she shoved two fingers into the wound and began to chant. The flesh healed over, but it was puckered and bright red.

“That doesn’t look sanitary,” I said.

“It’s not,” Harper said and hissed again. “Quick hex. It’ll abscess if I don’t clean it out later.”

“By clean it out, you mean rip it open again,” I said. “Jesus Christ, Harper.”

She nudged the bit of her flesh with the toe of her boot and glared at the One Guy.

“Make it go the fuck away,” she said.

The blood ghast was close. Really close. Its shrieks made what glass was left in the trailer’s windows vibrate in their aluminum frames.

The One Guy nodded and picked up the hunk of Harper from the floor. He cupped it in both hands and started mumbling words in a language I wasn’t familiar with. Not that I was an extradimensional linguist, but I’d been around enough to spot the majority of important languages used by most beings.

A hint of blood red light leaked from between the One Guy’s fingers and his mumbling grew quieter as the light intensified.

Outside it sounded like the blood ghast was about to knock at the door. Branches were no longer breaking, which meant the monster was out of the woods, and the shrieks were shaking not only glass, but the walls of the trailer. Harper lifted her goblin sickle and faced the door. Lassa aimed his shotgun and I struggled to make a Dim rod. My stomach cramped like I’d eaten a bushel of green apples, but I held on and raised the Dim rod as the door began to buckle.

“Shit,” the One Guy said. “It may not be enough.”

“What?” I snapped as I whirled on him.

At the same time, the door burst open and the blood ghast rushed us. It hesitated for a split second then went straight for the One Guy. Harper slashed out and an arm fell away. Lassa fired his shotgun and the thing lost its swirly tail. I threw the Dim rod and impaled it in the chest.

But it didn’t stop.

Not until the One Guy opened his hands and blew into his palms. “Kidding,” he said.

The flesh had become pure light and that light hit the blood ghast like a semitruck. The monster flew back out of the trailer and kept on flying as it tore through tree trunks and shredded bushes until it was lost from sight.

“It ain’t dead until I confirm it’s dead,” Harper said and limped her way out of the trailer.

“Good idea,” the One Guy agreed and followed right behind her.

“Gonna have a sit down,” I said and collapsed onto my ass. The floor was soft and damp and made a squelching noise, but I didn’t care.

“Staying with Chase,” Lassa called after them. He knelt next to me, his shotgun resting up on his shoulder. “You good?”

“I’ll live,” I said. “But I need a truckload of fried chicken and two kegs of beer STAT. Fetch that, nurse.”

“Funny,” Lassa said and patted me on the shoulder.

He started to sit, but eyed the floor and changed his mind. Instead he stood back up and faced the doorway, shotgun at the ready.

“How much of this are you believing?” he said without turning from the doorway.

“Ten percent,” I replied. “He’s ladling out truth like dribbles of soup.” The thought of soup made my stomach roar.

“You know him best,” Lassa said. “How fucked are we, Chase?”

“I don’t know.”

Before Lassa could respond, Harper called “Clear!” from the woods.

In a couple seconds she appeared with the One Guy. He was walking in front of her and it was obvious by his body language that Harper had insisted on that formation.

“We can’t stay here,” Harper said when the two reached the door. “My battle hexes are what sold us out. Someone tracked the residue and sent the blood ghast through Troy.”

“That would mean Troy was marked from the start,” the One Guy said. He glared at all of us. “He was your guy, not mine. And not the DEX’s. Explain that.”

“Can’t,” Harper said. “But it wasn’t us.”

“A leak in the Teamsters,” Lassa said. Lassa and I shared a quick look before he continued. “Shit. Our entire route is blown.”

“Exactly,” Harper said. “And there’s a minivan filled with troll guts only half a mile away from here. Law enforcement is gonna find it and start checking the woods. If they’re local then they’ll know about this trailer. I would. We have to go. Now.”

“Sorry to be Mr. Bummer, but I’m not going far,” I said. “Legs be jelly, y’all.”

“I got ya, dude,” Lassa said and handed the shotgun to Harper. She tucked it away in a pocket as he bent over and picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder. “Try not to wiggle too much. It throws off my balance.”

“I’ll be too busy trying to stay conscious, pal,” I said.

“Harper sliced off part of her hip and Chase gets the ride?” the One Guy said and laughed. “Still the spoiled punk as always.”

“You like that tongue?” Harper asked him.

“Is that a trick question?” the One Guy replied.

“Leave Chase alone,” Harper snapped. “He plays with mojo that none of us plays with. If he needs a piggyback then he gets a piggyback.” She got up close to the One Guy; he didn’t flinch, but his smirk was gone. “And a little slice off my hip will never slow me down, asshead.”

“You all are so sweet,” the One Guy said, still facing off with Harper. “Where to now, Harper? I assume you are running this show from here on out.”

“We find a place to hunker down and get Chase some food,” Harper said. “There’s got to be a farmhouse close by.”

“Yes, and probably occupied by farmers,” the One Guy said. “I’m not above doing away with inconvenient folks, but that might create another trail.”

“No one is being done away with,” Harper said. “We’ll deal with occupants when we have to deal with occupants. No matter what”—She shoved a finger under his nose.—”you don’t do shit unless I tell you to. We clear?”

“Crystal Springs bottled water clear,” the One Guy said.

“We move. Now.” And Harper was out the door.

“You next,” Lassa said to the One Guy.

He nodded and followed Harper with us right behind. My view was of the top of Lassa’s ass and a quickly receding trailer. Then it became the inside of my eyelids as the last of my energy reserves went bye bye.

20.

WHEN I WOKE UP, the smell of home cooking was so thick that I thought I’d been swaddled in a blanket of it. I peeled my eyes open and found myself staring at a man and woman in their early fifties, three teenage boys and one late teen girl. They were gagged and tied to dining chairs. All of them had terrified eyes and those eyes were locked onto me. Seems we’d found a family sitting down to eat an early dinner. Or late lunch.

“Hey,” I said as I struggled, and failed, to sit up on the lumpy couch where I’d been deposited. “Sorry about this.”

“Here,” Lassa said as he came into the living room and handed me a plate piled with food.

Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, roasted corn, roasted sweet potatoes, green beans with country ham, rolls, and all covered in gravy. God I loved the South.

“Eat,” Lassa said, helping me to sit up.

He watched me as I steadied the plate on my lap and slowly began to fill my mouth with food. Once satisfied, he turned to the family and gave a sorry shrug then left the room. I could hear voices coming from what I figured was the kitchen, but I couldn’t quite make out the words. The world was an exhausted fuzzy mess and all I could focus on was the plate of food.

And the family still staring at me.

I wolfed down half the plate before I felt strong enough to be coherent.

“No one is going to hurt you,” I said around the last roll. I chewed and swallowed as I saw confused looks on their faces. “Sorry. I said, no one is going to hurt you. In fact, you will be well-compensated for this inconvenience, I promise.”

The man began to shout behind his gag. I don’t think he believed me. I tried to calm him, but he was having none of that. So I finished eating while he finished freaking out.

“You done?” I asked as I set the plate aside. Miraculously, Lassa appeared with another plate for me. He took the empty one and walked back to the kitchen without saying a word. All he did was glance at the family then glance at me and roll his eyes. “Thanks.”

I took more breaths as I ate the second plate of food.

“You’re pissed. I get that. I’ve been trussed up like you are. No bueno,” I said between bites. “But you have to understand that I am not lying. You and your family are going to be fine. Only reason you are tied up is so you don’t get hurt. Not because we want to hurt you, but because we want to keep variables down so you and your lovely family don’t get caught in the crossfire.”

His eyes went wide. All of their eyes went wide.

“I’m not saying there will be a crossfire,” I continued. “Well, there might be. Depends on what comes for us next. Maybe nothing, maybe something. I don’t know.”

The youngest teen boy had tears filling his eyes and he was fidgeting like he was gonna totally freak.

“Calm. Please. Take deep breaths.” I realized the irony of that as I stared at their gags. “Sorry. Breathe through your nose. Everyone together.”

I demonstrated and kept doing it until one by one they joined in. Except for the dad. He only glared with murder in his eyes. The family calmed down as much as they could and I smiled, setting the second empty plate onto the coffee table in front of me.

Then Harper screamed and all the calm went away in a flash. Panicked family and rage-pissed dad.

“Goddammit,” I grumbled as I got to my feet.

A little woozy, but steady. Good.

“I’ll be right back,” I said and slow-walked my way into the kitchen.

I was not surprised to see Harper laying across the kitchen table with her shirt off and Lassa pouring something green and bubbling into the wound on her side. As soon as the green and bubbling liquid touched flesh, it sent black smoke straight up to the ceiling, where it billowed out in that creepy way that sickly looking black smoke does.

And it stunk. Bad.

“Jesus,” I said and coughed, my hand covering my nose. “That ain’t right, Harp.”

“Pick the foot,” she gasped. “Because one is going up your ass.”

“My bad,” I said and glanced at the One Guy who was leaning against the kitchen sink, his arms folded across his doppler chest. “Having fun?”

“Not really, no,” he replied. “I don’t truly enjoy others’ suffering, Chase.”

“Yeah. Right. Uh-huh,” I said and shuffled over to the stove where the rest of the dinner sat. I scooped a huge spoonful of mashed potatoes into my mouth. “Mmmmmm.”

“It’s amazing you have time for actual work with the way you have to eat,” the One Guy said.

“I told you before to leave him alone,” Harper snarled as Lassa finished pouring whatever he was pouring into her side. “He has the shit part of what we do. Trust me.”

“If you say so,” the One Guy replied. He nodded towards the living room. “What are we going to do with them?”

“Not hurt them,” I said as I tore the meat off a chicken leg. Chew, swallow. “That’s not negotiable.”

“Not saying I want to hurt them. I’m only wondering when the rest of their clan gets home,” he said.

“They may not,” Harper said as Lassa pointed to the fridge. “They look older. Probably at college.”

“Huh?” I asked. I went over to see what Lassa was pointing at. Family photos. Two more girls in the family. Older and not currently tied up in the living room. “Damn. Mom and dad can’t keep it in their pants.”

“Country family like this doesn’t always mean a college education is in the kids’ future,” the One Guy pressed. “You see any pennants or memorabilia? You see the ubiquitous proud parent coffee mug? You see any”—

“I get it,” Harper snapped as she sat up and studied her side. “One or more could be on their way home for dinner right now. We can’t stay.”

“What vehicles do they have?” I asked.

“Minivan”—Lassa started.

“Nope,” I interrupted.

—“pickup truck, a Mustang, and two little compacts.”

“Mustang?” I asked.

“If it runs, dude,” Lassa said. “It’s old. We’re talking 1970s. So it could be a project car or it could have nothing but gold under its hood.”

“How about someone in charge of transportation go check it out,” the One Guy said.

The knife appeared out of thin air and stuck in the windowsill right past the One Guy’s left ear. He didn’t flinch.

“Tell one of us what to do again,” Harper said. “Please.”

He held up his hands in surrender until Harper relaxed. Then he reached back and grabbed the knife, pulling it from the old wood. He tossed the blade to Harper and she caught it by the handle without hesitation. Then it was gone from sight, back to where it had originally come from.

“Lassa. Check the vehicles. We take the one that is the most reliable,” I said as he finished with Harper and she slid down off the table.

“On it,” Lassa said and left out the kitchen door.

“Route,” Harper said to me as she pulled out a map and spread it on the table, avoiding the spilled green gunk that had leaked out of her wound. “We’re here.”

I snagged five rolls, shoved two in my mouth, and went to the table. Her finger was just above a town called Gap Mills, West Virginia.

“We aren’t even halfway there,” I said.

“No and we won’t be for a long time,” Harper responded, taking one of the rolls from my hand and popping it into her mouth. She chewed and stared at the map then moved her finger to the interstate and Roanoke, Virginia. “I know people in Roanoke. People that can get us to DC in one piece. But we’ll have to break silence and cover. When I make contact, they’ll do some checking to make sure I’m legit. That’ll put them on the radar.”

“Make sure you’re legit? Who do you know that has to check if you’re legit?” I asked. “And are they worth us blowing cover for?”

“They’re worth it.”

“Who are they?”

“Other exiles.”

“From the Fae? Or only from the faerie dimension?”

“From all over.”

“And I’ve never met them because . . . ?”

“Because they don’t need you and they don’t need me talking about them. They stick to Roanoke exclusively unless they need to leave.”

“You’ll convince them they need to leave?”

“I’ll convince them they need to leave. But it won’t come cheap.”

“Sharon can bill the One Guy.”

“Not only cash. We aren’t talking life debt, but we’ll owe them. A lot.”

“My life’s worth a lot. So’s yours and Lassa’s. We’ll pay what we need to.”

“They aren’t going to like helping the One Guy.”

“Maybe they don’t need to know it’s him.”

Harper laughed. “A single doppler walking around functional? No, Chase, that won’t raise any red flags.”

“No, I mean they don’t need to see him at all.” I worked a little Dim and smiled. “I’m not topped off, but I ate enough to make a box.”

“You two do know I’m still standing right here, yes?” the One Guy asked.

“Don’t care,” Harper said. “Doesn’t make a difference what you hear. You’ll do what we say or we’re out and you’re on your own.”

“Not going into a Dim box willingly,” he stated. I had no doubt he was sincere.

“Doesn’t have to be willingly,” Harper said.

“Oh, yes, it does.”

She turned away from the map and crossed her arms. They faced each other, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, dicks out. Harper’s was bigger.

“Okay, I’m bluffing,” the One Guy said. “You’ll take me while I’m stuck in this body. Dopplers are all muscle with almost no agility. That’s why I keep them in volume. You’d dance around me easily. We’d only waste time.”

“And spill blood. Your blood,” Harper added.

“Yes, and that,” the One Guy continued. He focused on me. “Perhaps there’s another way we can handle this.”

I raised an eyebrow and waited.

“How do you feel about concealment hexes?” he asked.

Harper started to argue, I think more from reflex, but stopped and looked at me.

“Not liking where this is going,” I said.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Harper said. “Solves our single doppler problem, keeps the One Guy’s identity hidden, and allows you to save your strength. No Dim box needed. I can work the hex easily.”

“Allow me,” the One Guy said. “It’ll be a better match if I do it. More of a link that way. They’ll be looking for the link.”

“Link? Oh, screw you guys. I’m not linking to his brain,” I snapped. “Not goddamn happening!”

“What’s not goddamn happening?” Lassa asked as he came back in.

“We’re gonna make Chase look like a doppler so we can sneak these two into Roanoke without raising any suspicions,” Harper said.

“Roanoke? The Exiles?” Lassa asked. “That where we’re going?”

“What? He knows about the Exiles?” I said. “Fuck you guys.”

21.

WE ENDED UP IN one of the compacts. It wasn’t ideal, especially since I was almost the same size as the car myself once the One Guy turned me into a doppler. But the Mustang was a piece of shit and the truck wouldn’t hold us without working some mojo that would instantly put us on the hex radar. We were already taking a risk with my transformation; a hexed truck would have been a blinking blip on the magic GPS.

So I ended up crammed into the backseat of a Hyundai hatchback with the One Guy’s elbow jammed into my ribs. Two hulking dopplers in the rear seat of a Hyundai makes for a tight fit. But it was better than fighting a blood ghast, so I wasn’t complaining.

Harper was in the passenger seat, her eyes watching for any and every possible threat while Lassa drove. I was amazed he could fit his long yeti legs into the car at all, but the guy was flexible.

“The family will be released at midnight,” Harper said as we drove down the tree-lined lane that led to the country road. “Ropes and gags are set to drop off then. That should give us plenty of time to get away and switch out vehicles.”

“One with slightly more legroom,” the One Guy said.

“You want the trunk?” Harper asked. The One Guy did not respond. “Exactly.”

“Talk to me about the Exiles,” I said. “Since Lassa obviously already knows them.”

“Dude, I don’t know them. I know of them,” he replied. “Big difference. And I only know because I answered one of Harper’s texts on her phone when she stepped away from her desk. I thought it was gonna be funny. It got weird fast.”

“Exiles are no joke,” Harper said as she turned to stare at us. “They’ve been not only kicked out of their clans, families, villages, towns, and whatever else they live in, but completely out of their dimensions. Most of them deserved it. Get that into your heads, both of you. Most of them deserved it. These are not nice beings.”

“And they’re hiding in Roanoke instead of a vortex point town . . . why?” I asked. “Better cover in a vortex point town. Are some of the Exiles being hunted?”

“Maybe,” Harper replied matter of factly. “I don’t ask. You don’t ask. No one asks. Details are kept hidden and held close to the chest. All you need to know is these beings have made a pact to watch each other’s backs. Fuck with one of them and you fuck with all of them. Clear?”

“As a Crystal Springs”—

“Shut up, Leonard,” Harper snapped.

“No need for that,” the One Guy snarled. “Can you try to be pleasant until we have a little more space between us?”

“No.”

“Waste of a question, pal,” I said.

I shifted as much as I could in my seat and leaned slightly forward to talk to Lassa. He turned onto the country road then glanced in the rear view mirror at me.

“What?” he asked.

“I have an idea,” I said. “If we see a vehicle soon that might work, pull over and I’ll snag it in some Dim. Then we keep going for a ways before we switch.”

He blinked a couple times then realization dawned in his eyes.

“Dude, that’s a good idea.”

“It is,” Harper said. “We’ll all keep our eyes peeled. I’m thinking SUV. Crap for gas mileage, but it gives us size and options in case we have to leave the road.”

“Too much to ask for a nice Cadillac?” the One Guy asked.

No one responded.

“Or we could hire a limo,” he continued. “No one would raise an eyebrow. A limo going from Roanoke to DC can’t be that much of an anomaly.”

“Or we can stick with the plan we have so we stay alive while still transporting your ass even though there really isn’t any reason to other than the fact that we need answers from the DEX and handing you over is the only way to get them,” I said. “I vote for that.”

“Aye!” Lassa called out.

“Ditto,” Harper said and flipped the One Guy off.

“Your client relation skills are severely lacking,” he huffed.

“That’s why we have Sharon,” I said. “She smoothes over the rough edges we create.”

We sat in silence as Lassa navigated the country roads until he finally got us to rural Highway 311. Not that it was much of a highway. It was a glorified switchback up and over the ridges of the West Virginia/Virginia stretch of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The sun set behind us as Lassa pushed the car’s engine to get us across one last ridge before our descent into the Shenandoah Valley and Roanoke.

We hit a little town called Catawba, and Lassa pulled into a gas station. We didn’t need gas, but we did need the nice Land Rover that was sitting outside the country store attached to the gas station.

“I’ll watch the store,” Harper said. “Lassa, keep the car running. Chase, do your thing.”

Harper and I got out of the car and walked by the Land Rover. We glanced inside the store and spotted the driver instantly. He screamed of douche. I left Harper to keep an eye on him as the guy hunted the snack aisle.

I went back to the Land Rover and peeked inside. No one in there. Smoke began to pour from my palms as I formed a good sized box to wrap the SUV in. I kept glancing around, expecting someone to notice, but there were only a few cars on the road and it was dark enough that no one could really see me unless they looked hard.

Then I created the box, closed it, and scratched off a key. Poof, the car was gone into the Dim.

“Set,” I said and Harper rejoined me as we hurried to the Hyundai and got in.

“Go,” Harper said. “We’ll drive to the next closest pull-off and make the switch. Chase, you good?”

“I could eat all of that country store, but I’m not gonna pass out. I’m good,” I said as I tried to get comfortable in the backseat. “Move your ass over, will ya, pal?”

The One Guy shifted and made about an inch more space for me.

Lassa floored it and we were off and out of Catawba in a minute. Three miles later we spotted a good place to pull over and made the vehicle switch. Second stolen car came out of the Dim, first stolen car went in the Dim. Way easier than jacking a car straight out of a parking lot and leaving the old one for the cops to find.

“Where to now?” Lassa asked.

“Head to Roanoke and straight downtown,” Harper said.

“In the middle of town? Doesn’t seem safe,” the One Guy said.

“Depends on how good their disguise hexes are,” I replied. “I’m guessing they’ve put some work into them.”

“They have,” Harper responded. “They also have a mage that can wipe a mind clean with the snap of her fingers. Don’t give her a reason to, okay?”

“Not planning on it,” I said. “One Guy? Planning on getting yourself wiped?”

“Not today, no,” he said.

His attention was on the dark landscape outside as Lassa drove us down out of the mountain ridges and into civilization and Interstate 81. We weren’t too worried about State Troopers or local police spotting the Land Rover. Harper had given it a shimmer that made it hard to focus on. Cops would drive right past us without giving a second look. It was a small hex, barely detectable. A risk, but needed.

Once we stopped, though, that would be a different matter. We’d needed to ditch the vehicle fast in Roanoke and make our way to whatever rendezvous point Harper knew. Probably a bar.

It was a bar.

We were six blocks from where we ditched the Land Rover and walking into a bar that looked like a thousand bars in the South. Neon signs for various beer and liquor brands; jukebox playing 1970s rock which was the genre that transcended class and politics; semi-attractive waitress, but way overworked; gruff bartender that doubled as the bouncer. No question there was at least one baseball bat and one shotgun behind the bar.

“What can I get you?” the waitress asked as we sat down in a large, round corner booth, backs to the wall, eyes on the door. “Damn. You folks look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet. I’m thinking whiskeys and beer backs?”

“Double that for all of us and you are thinking right,” Harper said.

“Be right back, y’all,” the waitress said as her eyes lingered on Lassa. She gave an extra wiggle as she walked away.

“No, pal,” I said. “We do not have time for Lassa love.”

“And she’ll eat you alive,” Harper said. “That’s Maaike. She’s a valkyrie.”

“Like as in Norse mythology?” I asked.

“Exactly like that,” Harper said. “Her real form would destroy Lassa in seconds.”

“You never know,” Lassa said. “I’ve been known to soothe even the most savage beast.”

“Not tonight, stud,” Harper said with a grin.

Good to see her smile. That meant she was relaxed enough to feel semi safe in the bar. That made me relax. I didn’t drop my guard, but I let my shoulders fall slightly. Or as much as my doppler shoulders could fall. Musclebound was an understatement.

“How does a valkyrie get exiled? And are we talking about Valhalla here? Is that a dimension?” I asked.

“Kind of and any being can get exiled if they are shitty enough,” Harper said.

“The bartender?” One Guy asked.

“I don’t know him,” Harper said.

“Smells like horse,” Lassa said as he let his yeti nose do some work. “Centaur?”

The bartender was busy pouring beers, but paused and turned in our direction.

“If he is then he’s a centaur with good hearing,” the One Guy said. “I would have thought the Moody Blues would have masked our conversation back here.”

Maaike was leaning her hip against the bar as she waited for our drinks, but she pushed away and turned to stare at us as well. The couple of patrons in the bar, an older man by the jukebox and a young woman that looked methed out by the bathrooms, stopped pretending to be nothing and straightened up. They focused on us.

“Teddy? Kill the music,” the bartender said as he pointed at the old man. “Diane? Lock the doors.”

The meth girl got up and she was definitely not on meth. Her body was healthy and toned and she walked with a confidence that made me slightly uncomfortable. There was death in that walk.

Not that there wasn’t death in the way Teddy moved. He grinned at us as he yanked the jukebox’s cord out of the wall. He had some serious canines behind that ratty mustache of his. Either he didn’t hex his teeth or he didn’t care if he showed them off. Probably kept punks off his back when he walked home late at night.

Maaike watched us for a second then snapped her fingers. The bartender turned his glare to her and she met his gaze. Something unspoken was communicated between them and the bartender continued pouring drinks until Maaike’s tray was full.

She carefully, making a show of it, walked our drinks over to us then set them down until her tray was empty. Setting the empty tray on a table close by, she grabbed a chair, spun it around and joined us as she straddled the chair.

“Talk fast and use wise words,” she said to us. “Feel free to drink up. Nothing in the drinks except maybe a little extra water to help with the profits.”

“Harper Kyles,” Harper said, extending her hand.

I have never seen Harper offer to shake with someone like that before. Sure, she shakes hands, but it’s always to either seal a deal or intimidate someone. This was an actual conciliatory gesture meant to show peace. I’d have made a crack about her showing her belly too, but that would probably have gotten one or all of us killed.

“Harper Kyles,” Maaike said, taking the hand, giving it a good shake, then letting go so she could focus on the rest of us. “Then this must be Lassa. I should have guessed with that pretty boy face and that . . . bod.”

Lassa extended his hand.

“My pleasure,” he said.

“Jesus,” I muttered.

“That wasn’t very doppler,” Maaike said. “Elias? What you smellin’?”

The bartender took a big whiff and narrowed his eyes.

“That one ain’t doppler,” he called to Maaike. “He’s a hexed human made into a doppler. The other is a doppler. Sort of. Something off about his scent.”

“Elias is never wrong when it comes to smells,” Maaike said, tapping the side of her noise. She pointed at me. “This one the hexed human?”

“That’s the one.”

“Then you must be the defiler of dimensions. Chase Lawter. Tell me, defiler, why are you hiding as a doppler? Seems like a good way to get yourself killed. Everyone hates dopplers and most of them end up dead sooner rather than later.”

“Hold on,” Harper said and gestured at me. It was a complex gesture that took some manual dexterity in her left fingers. “There.”

I didn’t feel a bit different, but when I looked down I was me again. I stretched my arms up into the air and that’s when I felt the difference. Full range of motion again because I had normal goddamn muscles.

“Not gonna offer me your hand?” Maaike asked me.

“Good to meet you,” I said and held out my hand. She took it and we shook, but I held on for a second more. “Don’t call me defiler of dimensions. I really don’t like that name. It’s kinda dick.”

Meth girl was at the table and sitting between me and the One Guy before I could blink.

“Let go of Maaike’s hand,” Diane hissed in my ear.

I let go of Maaike’s hand and turned to look Diane square in the face. She opened her mouth to show me some serious up and down fangs. No question about her. Meth girl was a vampire. I’ve tangled with plenty.

“Diane. We’re good,” Maaike said. And in another blink Diane was gone and standing by the front door again. “Diane gets protective of me.”

“You two an item?” Lassa asked. “Maybe an item looking for a third?”

“Goddammit, Lassa,” I said.

“What? They are both very attractive women,” Lassa said. “I am pretty damn sure, dude, that their true forms are also as attractive. To me at least.”

“That one’s a vampire,” I said to him, pointing at Diane.

“And your point is?” Lassa asked.

“We’re not a thing,” Maaike said and laughed. She nodded at the drinks. “Please. Drink. I don’t think you’re here to fight. Yet.”

“Yet?” I asked.

Harper waved my question away. “We need your help,” she said.

Lassa picked up a shot and tipped it towards Maaike then downed it. She watched him closely then slowly turned to look at Harper.

“Harper Kyles. Exile of faerie, enemy of the Fae, needs our help? Not sure we want to be a part of that,” Maaike said. “Roanoke is not protected by a Grand Hex, Ms. Kyles. We keep a low profile here. Your recent spat with Daphne means you aren’t so low profile. You understand the cost of your request, yeah?”

“Hey, Helga, back off,” I said. “My friend has been through some shit. Her spat with Daphne was to save my ass and keep us from getting into a bigger spat with Lord Beelzebub. Since we’re sitting right here, that should tell you she’s good at what she sets out to do. A little respect, lady.”

Diane was on me in a flash. But I had expected her to react and had a Dim rod jammed into her sternum before she could rip me apart. She looked down at where the rod touched her shirt and it was smoking slightly. Her eyes went wide and she backed off. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Vampires are not fond of fire.

Of course, the smoke was some swirling Dim, not actual smoke, but I didn’t take Diane as the brightest bloodsucker. The illusion worked.

“The defiler of dimensions makes more than boxes,” Maaike said. “Nice. Good skill to have.”

“Thanks,” I said and let the Dim rod poof out of existence. “Am I going to have to do that again or can we please talk without shit going down?”

Maaike nodded. “We can talk. You convince me to help and I’ll have a chat with the others.”

“Cool. Cool,” I said and eased back into my seat. I picked up a beer and sipped at it. My stomach rumbled so loud, it startled everyone not used to it. I thought Diane was going to attack me again. “Yeah, any way we can order delivery? I could eat a horse.”

“Dude,” Lassa said and shook his head as Elias flipped me off.

22.

DELIVERY DIDN’T happen once the Exiles realized how much food I wanted to order.

“Low profile doesn’t mean much to you,” Maaike said.

Teddy was sent out for groceries since the bar had a small, but rarely used, kitchen in the back. He was a hellhound, not sure how that worked, and returned with bags of food hanging off his arms. Lassa, with Diane joining him, slipped back and started cooking everything.

Maaike sat with us while the sounds of pots and pans clanked from the opposite side of the wall the booth sat against. She kept staring at me then at the One Guy then back to me.

“Not gonna tell me who your friend really is?” Maaike asked.

“No,” Harper said. “Not until we have some assurance from you that we won’t be ratted out.”

“Sweetie, I don’t rat anyone out,” Maaike replied. “Never have, never will. I held an honored place amongst gods. Honored. No ratting in honor.”

“Except you’re here now,” I said and gestured at the bar. “Exiled. I only know a little about Valhalla from movies and shit, but I have a feeling lack of honor is how a valkyrie gets kicked out of that place.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lawter,” Maaike said.

I must not have pushed the wrong button if she was calling me Lawter and not defiler of dimensions. That took me off guard. I leaned forward and grabbed one of the extra beers on the table. I sipped slowly as I kept my eyes on hers. She didn’t even come close to flinching, only watched me with a slight smile playing at the corner of her lips.

“Show me more of that Dim work,” she said after a while.

“Takes a lot out of me,” I said. “Let me have a bite first and then I’ll show you more.”

“You admit weakness to someone not yet counted as an ally? Interesting life strategy, Lawter.”

I hooked a thumb towards Harper. “I got a Harper. And I’m not exactly a pussy. I can hold my own.”

“He took on harpies by himself on the Gory Gauntlet,” Harper said.

That raised Maaike’s eyebrows. “Did you now?”

“This flirting is fun and all, but can we talk business, please?” the One Guy said.

“Goddammit,” I muttered and turned to him. “Life isn’t all about being the tough guy every fucking second. Sometimes you make small talk and feel a situation out before you jump in with guns blazing.”

Harper leaned across the table and placed a hand on Maaike’s forearm. “No guns will be blazing.”

“Yeah, I understand the phrase,” Maaike responded then stared at the One Guy. “You’re used to being in charge.” Statement, not question. “You’re used to forcing others to act the way you want them to act. You smell of violence and duplicity.”

“I thought Diane was the ghoul with the sniffer,” the One Guy said.

“Goddammit,” I snapped at him. “Shut the fuck up!”

“Diane!” Maaike called, her eyes never leaving the One Guy.

“Yeah?” Diane asked, appearing by our table instantly. “These bitches need to die yet? I really want to taste the defiler. That Dim must make his blood delicious.”

“Jesus, back off Vampirella,” I said. “No tasting the Dim tonight, got it?”

“No, Diane, I need you to give the doppler here a good, long sniff. See what your senses make of him,” Maaike said, ignoring my jab. “Tell me what you find.”

Diane stood there and flared her nostrils. She snorted and gave a short laugh. “Defiler ain’t the bitch here, this lug is,” she said. “Quick to fight, quick to kill, quick to destroy. No finesse. Doesn’t hunt a damn thing on his own. Hides behind . . . something.”

Diane put her palms on the table and leaned across so she could get a closer sniff. She looked the One Guy up and down. “Evil son of a bitch, that ain’t no lie,” she continued. “Can’t ever be trusted. His lies are lies. Heartless. Paranoid. Has a tiny”—

“That’s enough,” the One Guy said very calmly. “Take the parlor trick back into the kitchen and play with the yeti, will ya?”

She was gone.

“Nice profiler you have,” the One Guy said to Maaike. “You pay her or does she work for rat blood?”

“She gets her fill of the real stuff,” Maaike said. “No Grand Hex means no regulations in Roanoke. She gets found out and the DEX will kill her on the spot, but I doubt they’ll ever find out. Murders happen.”

“Speaking of the DEX,” Harper said, taking over the conversation. “We need an escort. A serious one. Only have to get into DC. It’s a paying gig.”

“Why?” Maaike asked.

“Because money makes the world go round,” the One Guy interrupted.

“Wrong question, dipshit,” Maaike said. “Why do you people need an escort for a four hour drive? Lay it on the table, Harper Kyles, and I’ll push your request up the ladder.”

“Up the ladder? You aren’t the one in charge?” The One Guy scoffed. “We are wasting time. Why in the hell would we speak to an employee? This is ridiculous.”

Harper elbowed him in the face so hard that he dented the wall behind him as his head snapped back. Those doppler eyes actually crossed for a second. Before he could recover and retaliate, she had the goblin sickle up under his chin, pressed hard to his throat. A trickle of doppler blood began to slowly wind its way down past his Adam’s Apple.

“My apologies,” the One Guy said. “It has been a long day.”

“That right there,” Maaike asked. “Why do you need Exiles when you can do that? Tell me the truth about the threat level and then we can deal.”

“Blood ghast,” Harper said.

Maaike blinked a couple times then looked at me.

“Yep,” I said. “Blood ghast. Ghasts, if we’re being honest.”

Maaike blinked a few more times then let a bemused smile spread across her face.

“Now we’re talking,” she said. “That’s a job worth taking. How many blood ghasts?”

“No clue,” Harper said. “But we’ve dealt with two so far and there are more coming. I have no doubt.” She lifted up her shirt to show the gnarly wound on her side. “I only have so much of me to give, so your help would be great.”

“Stolen flesh. Right.” Maaike nodded. “That’ll do it.” She leaned back into her chair. “This is why the kobolds are all up in arms. Folks been killing their kin for parts. Factions using blood ghasts to settle scores. Using them to wipe out the DEX’s CIs and each other.”

I heard it. Factions using blood ghasts to settle scores. Using them to wipe out the DEX’s CIs and each other. Shit . . .

I didn’t need to have Diane’s sense to know that Harper heard those words too and her pulse rate was about to go through the roof.

“Do not kill the client,” I said to her. “Please?”

“No promises,” Harper said as she got up from the table and started to pace back and forth behind Maaike.

The valkyrie didn’t even turn around to watch, only smiled at me then at the One Guy.

“The client has been holding back,” Maaike said. “Or can I call you the One Guy? No sherlocking needed to figure out who you really are. Black Box Inc. hails from Asheville. That’s One Guy territory. CIs going to war in all the vortex points, using blood ghasts left and right, now we got you sitting here with Harper Kyles talking about blood ghasts. One plus one plus one equals uh-oh.”

“Why?” Harper asked.

“Value,” I replied for the One Guy. “Less CIs, more value in information. Those left standing fill the void with their own people and the DEX ends up paying only a few organizations instead of a bunch of loose CIs. Not a bad business plan, Leonard.”

“I warned you about calling me Leonard,” the One Guy snarled.

I found myself being thrown across the table. Didn’t see that one coming. I collided with Maaike and we ended up on the stained wood floor in a tangle of limbs. My head was swimming from the impact with the floor and lack of food. Maaike pushed me off then dragged me towards the bar. I let her.

The One Guy threw the table aside then punched Harper as she leapt at him. He grabbed her by the arm which was going for the goblin sickle again, and snapped it. The sound echoed off the bar’s walls, so loud it drowned out the jukebox for half a second.

Harper screamed, but didn’t go down. She let her right arm dangle, turning her body so it was protected, and pulled her Magnum with her left hand. She fired three shots. They all hit and the One Guy went flying back into the table, his doppler bulk turning it to splinters.

“Chase. We’re gonna need his real body,” Harper called to me without her gaze, or the barrel of that hand cannon of hers, leaving the One Guy’s still and bleeding form. “Chase!”

“On it,” I mumbled and held out a hand. Maaike helped me to my feet. “Thanks.”

“You bet,” she replied. “I want to see this.”

I pulled the Dim key from my pocket and focused. My head hurt and my stomach cramped, but I shoved the pain and discomfort away as I brought the box back into our dimension.

“Far out,” Maaike said and golf-clapped.

I sent the Dim away and there sat the One Guy’s real body, a very confused look on his face. More like a catatonic look on his face. Without his partner, the doppler inside couldn’t put half a thought together on his own. The front of his suit was soaked through with drool.

Harper put away the pistol and drew a blade. She nicked the One Guy’s body across the cheek then hustled over to the doppler body and did the same thing. Then she licked the blade, spat on the floor, and threw the blade into the spittle. It stuck hard and fast.

The One Guy’s real body gasped. He looked about, blinking quickly, then started to reach inside his suit jacket.

“Who am I shooting?” Elias asked from behind the bar, his shotgun leveled at no one in particular.

“Not her,” Maaike said, pointing at Harper. She moved her finger in the direction of the One Guy, who had paused his movement, his hand still inside his suit jacket, but not pulling anything out. “Him?”

“No,” Harper said. “We’re delivering him.”

“He played you, Kyles,” Maaike said. “Kill the bitch now and walk away. No honor in finishing this job.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of honor,” Harper said, favoring her broken arm. She smiled at me. “Right, Chase?”

“What are you thinking? Ontario?” I asked.

“Ontario,” she said.

“We’ll keep the asshole alive,” I said to Maaike. “I have a feeling the DEX is going to pay a good amount for his ass once they know the truth.”

Maaike had been highly amused by the situation until then. She frowned and looked at me.

“The DEX does know,” Maaike said. “I think you folks are the only ones that don’t.”

“Know what?” I asked.

“The DEX is at war,” Maaike said.

“With who?” I asked.

“Itself and anyone that gets in the way.”

Harper’s eyes locked with mine and we shared a “goddammit” look.

“Lassa!” I called.

“What’s up, dude?” he asked as he came from the kitchen, all flirty and smiley in that Lassa way. That stopped instantly. “And the fun always ends.”

23.

PIECES OF THE puzzle clicked into place like an expert playing Tetris. My pieces were made of the One Guy and everything he’d done up to and including his bullshit in the Exile’s bar. Click, click, click.

Which would be great if I could believe the clicking. The problem with knowing the One Guy as well as I did was that I knew he never showed his cards. He was never predictable, other than being a total scumbag at all times. Once you had a handle on the truth, the One Guy was the best at pulling that truth rug out from under you.

Again, I was forced to listen and learn while taking everything in a galaxy-sized grain of salt. Sift through the lies to find the truth . . .

Didn’t mean I couldn’t eat while sifting through those lies.

Lassa and Diane brought out all the food they’d been cooking and set it on a couple tables pushed together in the center of the bar. The table we’d been using had a dead doppler slumped behind it and no one was in the mood to break their back and move the sad sack of dead shit.

I loaded a plate and sat down at the bar next to where Harper was letting Elias set her arm. Apparently centaurs are great medics. Didn’t know that. I watched for a second as I shoveled food into my mouth, cleaning the plate in no time. Then I set the empty plate down and focused on the One Guy.

He was seated across the room with Diane on his lap. No restraints other than a very pissed off looking vampire draped across his legs. Also, no hex hiding his face. It was all Leonard at that moment.

The hexed face would have been preferable. Leonard Maguire was not a handsome man. The teen years were an acne nightmare and his cheeks were cavernous landscapes that made the moon look smooth. He also had a lazy eye that made it hard to focus when talking to him. Not for me, though. I knew all of the One Guy’s ugly realities.

“Why are we really going to DC, Leonard?” I asked.

Time to ask questions and not believe the answers. Although, having a lie-sniffing vampire in the One Guy’s lap did make me slightly more confident we’d get to the truth eventually. Maybe.

“Can I get you more?” Maaike asked, taking my empty plate. I must have looked surprised. “You keep talking. I so want to hear where this goes.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” I said.

Maaike went and filled my plate while I glared at the One Guy.

“Leonard? Answer the question,” I said.

“Me. You were delivering me,” he said.

“Lie,” Diane said and licked his pock-marked cheek with a blood red, pointy tongue. “Delish.”

“How many times should I ask him before we get serious?” I asked Harper.

“I’m already very fucking serious,” Harper snarled as a blue haze drifted over her broken arm.

“No more times then,” I said and began to let a little Dim swirl in my palm. Maaike set my plate on the bar and sat down next to me. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” she said and patted me on the thigh.

“Leonard?” I said. “We are going to have to have the truth right now. Otherwise Diane gets to start nibbling on your neck.”

“That sounds hot,” Lassa said from the end of the bar where he was drinking a huge tumbler of rum and coke. He saw the looks we gave him. “I mean, uh, disgusting. Yuck.”

Diane gave him an exaggerated wink. He returned it.

“Leonard?” I said one last time.

“I want assurances,” he said. “I tell you what I know and you let me live.” He glanced at Diane. “Real living, not an undead existence.”

“Hey, don’t knock the undead,” Lassa said then took a sip and ahhh’d. “One of our business partners is undead and she is the loveliest woman in all the dimensions. Classy.”

“Am I classy?” Diane asked.

“You, my dear, are the opposite of classy in the best possible ways,” Lassa replied.

“God, you two make me sick,” the One Guy said, faking a retching noise. “Chase? An assurance?”

“No,” I said. “Your life depends on how convincing you can be. No deals, no contracts, no plans, no conniving bullshit that allows you to wiggle out of that chair.”

“You can wiggle. I won’t mind,” Diane said and licked him again. “Mmmm.”

“Diane. Please,” Maaike said, causing Diane to pout.

Vampires . . .

“Here, let me help you get started,” I said to the One Guy. “The real reason we’re going to DC is . . .”

The One Guy struggled internally. I could see it all over his ugly face.

“Harper,” he hissed at the room, his head turning back and forth like it caused him actual discomfort to say. “She was the real delivery.”

“Because she is Stolen,” I said.

“Because she is Stolen,” the One Guy agreed. “We had been using kobold parts to wage our little cross-continental conflict, but the kobold dimension turned out to be a considerably stronger adversary than any of us had bargained for.”

“You kill their royalty and a people tend to get upset, Leonard,” I said. “That’s not rocket science, pal.”

“Yes, well, the last few parts became worth more than a Swiss bank account’s contents,” the One Guy said. “I was scrambling for new parts, as you know from Chappy’s unfortunate involvement. Until an idea hit me.”

“You suddenly realized you had premium parts right there in Asheville,” I said. “Harper parts.”

The One Guy shrugged.

“None of the other CIs had a Stolen available to them?” I asked.

“Not that I’m aware of. Which made Harper’s head a premium. I was able to make a deal with a broker. Sell her a Stolen and I’d be set for life. Hell, I’d be set into the afterlife.”

“You’re already rich. You made a fortune off the suffering of Asheville and the area.”

“A fortune that the DEX wasn’t going to let me keep. I go into protective custody and I forfeit everything. Harper was my bargaining chip so that when I did disappear from the system, I’d still be living the lifestyle I’d grown accustomed to.”

There was truth in there. Enough to convince Diane. At that moment I believed every word that the One Guy said. The deal for Harper and the using the DEX to disappear. Except he was lying, even if Diane couldn’t smell the lie. He was using the truth to hide his plan.

I needed to keep him talking and see where he slipped up.

“Which part of the DEX?” I asked. “Maaike says they’re at war with themselves, so which side do you work for? Which side is going to put you into witness protection or whatever it is the DEX does?”

The One Guy laughed. It was forced. It was overly dramatic. It was bullshit. And it went on for a while.

“Point made,” Maaike said. “What’s so funny, asshole?”

“It’s nice to know that while you fools each have a little peek through the window, I’m the only one here with a full view.” He cleared his throat and smiled at Diane. “No need to get licky, sweetheart. I’m about to spill it all.” The One Guy cleared his throat again. “Full disclosure for a safe return to Asheville.”

“If it’s worth it,” I replied.

“No, Chase! I want to return safe and sound. Once we get there then we can hash out our . . . problems with each other. Until then, and in exchange for what I know, you keep me safe as a goddamn little newborn baby.”

“What do you mean by return to Asheville?” Harper asked.

“What?” the One Guy replied. That rattled him.

“Not DC? You don’t want us to deliver you to the safety of DC?” Harper asked. She had her predator voice on, which was different than her killer voice. She was hunting something in him. “Why go back to Asheville?”

“That’s where I live,” he said.

“Truth in a lie,” Diane said.

“Leonard?” I said as I finished off the second plate of food.

I had no idea what magic Lassa and Diane had been cooking with, but it was filling me up. Two plates should not have filled me up that fast. Satiety felt good. I stopped fiddling with the Dim and made a full rod.

“Diane? You’ll want to move,” I said.

Diane moved as I threw the Dim rod, impaling the One Guy through his left shoulder.

“That was beautiful,” Maaike said.

The One Guy cried out and went to yank the rod free, but I flicked my fingers and it dissipated into nothingness. He began talking.

“My deal with Ducheré only works for me if I deliver the Stolen to the broker in DC. No Harper, so no point in making the deal.”

“Because you’d be poor?” I laughed. “Leonard, we both know what poor is. I’m sure the DEX wouldn’t let you starve to death. They’d provide.”

“There might be more to it than that.”

“I’m sure there is. So . . . ?”

“Ducheré was to take care of the rest of the CIs, none of which was part of her faction, and I’d get a singular place amongst the DEX hierarchy. The last CI. High value asset. Good gig. Gives Ducheré leverage against the other faction and gives me leverage over Ducheré. But, so what? That was only part of my deal. Guess what happens when I show up without the Stolen to hand over to the broker?”

He scrunched up his face and continued. “Chase, do you remember that friend of Nikolai’s? The one that had a thing for little boys. You remember what Nikolai did to him when everyone found out?”

“I couldn’t eat hot dogs for a year after that,” I said. “Or sausages or any meat that resembled intestines.”

“I would pray for that kind of death. Pray for it with all my soul. The DEX are a bunch of idiotic bureaucrats, but they are entrenched in their bureaucratic idiocy.” He looked around at us all. “Every single one of you has overestimated them. As it is with everything in Washington, there are much larger powers at work behind them. Behind both factions. Power that won’t let me back out of a deal.”

“If they are so powerful then why didn’t they take me?” Harper asked. “Not that it would be easy for them, but if they’d come full force it would have been hard for me to stop them.”

“Two reasons,” he said. “One being Chase. No one understands what he does. Healthy dose of caution with a power like that keeps many people alive. Black Box Inc. drove Daphne into hiding and survived a deal with Lord Beelzebub. I kept saying it was dumb luck, since I know Chase, but Ducheré and her puppet masters are scared.”

“The luck wasn’t dumb,” Lassa said. “It was smart luck.”

“Not helping,” I responded.

“Sorry, dude.”

“The second reason was the Grand Hex,” the One Guy continued as if Lassa hadn’t spoken. “You think that shit is only there so tourists and wanderers forget what they saw when they visit vortex points? Jesus, how naïve are you? The Grand Hexes are in place to protect the extradimensional beings from humans as much as anything else. Stolen are a strange category, straddling the line, but in the end, they are as protected by the Grand Hexes as any other being.”

“Ducheré needed me occupied and Harper willing to leave Asheville,” I said. “She pissed me off so much that I took a job protecting you because that seemed like the smart thing to do.”

“Only needed a little nudge from me,” the One Guy replied.

“Now you want to go back because that Grand Hex that protects Harper and other extradimensional beings can help protect you. That it, Leonard?”

He barely shrugged. I stood up and walked towards his chair. The Dim began to swirl from my palms. Then the swirling turned into tiny tornadoes.

“There’s more. I know it. I know you,” I said, letting the anger build inside me. “You have an angle. This wasn’t only about you getting to DC for a payoff and a new life. This wasn’t only about delivering me and Harper. Too many variables, Leonard. You hate variables unless you have a backup plan in place. What’s the backup plan? What’s your profit off all of this other than straight-up profit?”

“Maaike?” Diane asked, looking alarmed as I stalked to the One Guy.

“You might want to move,” Maaike said to Diane.

Diane moved out of my way. Fast. Leaving only the One Guy.

“I let you hire me,” I snarled as I closed on the son of a bitch. “It was so easy. I thought I was screwing the DEX and I was the one being screwed. But that is only a bonus for you. What’s really going on?”

The tumult of Dim was like a heavy cloud around me, parting as I took a step closer and closer. I no longer saw the bar. I no longer saw anything except an irised focus on the One Guy.

“I put my friends’ lives in jeopardy. I did that. And I knew better. I’ve always known better. You want to go back to Asheville? You tell me everything or you go back in a fucking box is where you go! Not a Dim box, asshole, but a goddamn coffin!”

The Dim lashed out at the One Guy. And hit a wall.

It was a clear wall, a hex of some sort. And it was powerful. I felt energetic feedback rush through the Dim and into me. It stopped my breath and the black smoke disappeared as I fell to a knee.

“Goddamn . . .” I whispered.

“You really should have called me right away, Maaike,” a voice said from the bar’s doorway.

I glanced over there and thought I was going to see a woman. I did not see a woman. I saw a nightmare.

24.

THE NIGHTMARE was about five-foot-six and might have been an attractive middle-aged woman if it wasn’t for the mass of green hair-like tentacles that hung from every inch of her and ended in barbed tips.

She had a handsome face that was covered in snake scales. Her forked tongue flicked out in my direction and she smiled.

“Defiler of dimensions and the One Guy under my roof at the same time,” the woman said. “I won the lottery.”

“Violete, I was going to call you,” Maaike said. She wasn’t afraid, but she didn’t have the same confidence she’d had a minute before. “We were interrogating the One Guy. I wanted the full story before I brought you in. Less of a trail that way.”

“I know, I know, that’s why I’m not angry,” Violete said as she crossed the room towards the bar, her eyes never leaving mine. “Except I walked in on what looked like an assassination, not an interrogation.”

“I was going to stop him if he went any further,” Maaike said.

“No, you weren’t,” I said as I got to my feet and turned to face Violete. Goddamn she was freaky looking. “Chase Lawter. Not the defiler of dimensions, thank you very fucking much. Chase or Lawter or both. You pick.”

“Chase,” Violete said and nodded. “I am Violete Coste.”

“Nice to meet you, Violete Coste,” I said. “You’re in charge of the Exiles?”

“Chase. No,” Harper said.

I glanced at her and she shook her head.

“Harper is trying to warn me to not make any jokes or be rude,” I said. “That head shake was her ‘don’t get us killed’ head shake. So, I ask this question with all respect intended: What are you, Violete Coste?”

“Jesus,” Harper muttered.

“Yes, do tell,” Lassa said. “I’m not usually into the crazy hair tentacles thing, but, ma’am, you are stunning to behold.”

God bless Lassa.

Violete smiled. A genuine, happy smile. She turned to look at Lassa and gave him a bow of her head then turned back to me. Her eyes held me for a second then strayed to the tables of food.

“Good god that’s a lot to eat,” she said. Eyes back on me. “I’m a peluda, Chase. I doubt you’ve heard of my kind. Only a few of us have ever slipped through the cracks throughout your history before the extradimensional happening. The ones that have slipped through have only appeared in your France. Once the vortex points arrived, my kind shut down our portals. My dimension wants nothing to do with any of the others, for convoluted reasons I refuse to get into.”

She held up a hand and several of her tentacles imitated the gesture.

“I was exiled centuries before that decision was made, so my dimension being closed off forever means nothing to me. Their loss, as I see it.”

“And the . . . this?” I asked, waving my hand in front of my body.

Violete’s tentacles stiffened and a thousand barbed darts shot out into the walls of the bar, miraculously missing everyone. By the look on Harper’s face, I quickly realized there was no miracle involved. The barbed darts hit exactly where Violete meant them to.

Her tentacles relaxed and smoothed out somewhat so they hugged her form tighter and created an almost armor-like appearance.

“Teddy?” Violete called out.

“Fucking Teddy. Little snitch,” Maaike muttered.

“Yes, miss?” Teddy replied as he came out from the corner he’d been hiding in.

“Please let the others outside know that all is well,” Violete said. “Tell them they can join us. Time to decide what direction this merry band of players goes in.”

“Violete, I don’t think”—Maaike started.

“No, that is very apparent,” Violete interrupted. “That’s why I’ll do the thinking for everyone present from this moment forward.”

Maaike looked at me and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

Well, shit, that wasn’t good.

“Chase. You brought a mess to my door,” Violete continued. “A door I have worked very hard to keep shut since we don’t live with the luxury of a Grand Hex to magically make everything okey dokey. If my door is opened, and my people are discovered by the humans, then powers considerably worse than the DEX will come down on us. Hard. I came to Roanoke over two centuries ago. I helped build Roanoke. All of that could be taken from me in the blink of an eye. All because of you.”

“I brought them here,” Harper said. “I’m the one to blame.”

“Bullshit,” I said. “You guys put me in charge, so the buck stops on my ass.”

“Not a good picture,” Lassa said.

“Really?”

“Sorry.”

“You are both right,” Violete said, looking from me to Harper and back. “And both to blame. That’s why I’ll let you pick the one that decides your fate.”

“That’d be me,” I said. “I decide to put the One Guy in a Dim box and send him away. Then we head back to Asheville and no one speaks of this shit again. Good decision?”

“Very sound, but not the decision I meant,” Violete replied.

“I had a feeling,” I said and held out my hands. “So? What are we deciding?”

“Who fights one of theirs,” Harper said. “And that would be me.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Violete said. “As much fun as it would be to watch Harper Kyles, the Stolen exiled from the Fae, take on our best, I’m afraid Chase has a point. You have decided who leads you, so let him lead you.”

“By fighting one of your best?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Goddammit.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “This a to-the-death kind of fight?”

“Doesn’t have to be, but there is that risk. It wouldn’t be much of a test if I let you fight half-speed.”

“Three-quarter speed?”

“Chase . . .”

“Nope, we’re good,” I said. Another deep breath. Slowly out. “What are we testing exactly? I’d like to know the point of this fight before I fully commit.”

“You don’t have a choice, Chase.”

“Lady, I always have a choice. May not be a good choice; may not keep me alive; may be the worst choice ever in the history of goddamn choices, but I always have a choice.”

She cocked her head. “I suppose that is true. The test is whether or not you are worthy of our help. Win the fight and you not only leave here alive, but we will assist you with your return to Asheville. Instead of going to Washington DC, as you’d originally intended.”

I didn’t feel the need to ask how she knew about us going to DC. Best to let powerful women with barb-shooting tentacles have their sources of intel.

“Lose and you get to leave, but it won’t be easy getting out of Roanoke. And whatever awaits you on the road, whether back to Asheville or on to DC, is your problem.” She looked me up and down then did the same to my friends. “A problem none of you was prepared to handle before and I hardly see how you will handle it now. Unless you were planning on carving up Ms. Kyles along your way to keep the blood ghasts at bay.”

“You have a way to do that without kobold pieces or parts of Harper?” I asked. “You know how to fight blood ghasts?”

“Centuries of experience, Chase. Centuries.”

“Then let’s do this. Shit’s gonna happen anyway. Let’s get the show on the road, Ms. Coste.”

“Violete.”

“Violete. Thanks. Bring in your peeps and show me your best fighter. I’m ready if you are. Who’s the lucky SOB that I get to wail on?”

“Chase,” Harper said and shook her head.

Violete walked up to me so that we were almost touching noses. Seemed slightly melodramatic.

“I believe you have the wrong idea, Chase.”

She leaned in and kissed my lips. Hers were cold. Ice cold, but soft and the kiss wasn’t unpleasant.

“I’m our best. I thought my demonstration was proof of that.”

25.

“HOW STRONG ARE those tentacles? Tentacles? Is that what you call them?” I asked as I took a step back from Violete.

“Call them what you want,” she replied. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Those, uh, barbed darts? They happen to have any poison in them?”

“They might.”

“Can you turn that off?”

“No.”

“Would you if you could?”

“No.”

“Cool. Just wanted to know where I stood,” I said. “Which is in a pile of shit that I made for myself. No problem. I’ve been standing in shit most of my life.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder at the One Guy. “He being top turd of that pile for the majority of its existence. Only fitting he should be around when we finally see if I manage to get out of the shit or if I drown in it.”

“That’s a lot of shit, Chase,” Violete said and patted me on the chest as she turned and walked away. “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks.”

The front door opened and in walked a dozen others. Unlike Violete, they looked human. I had zero doubt they were very, very far from human. It did make me wonder why Violete wasn’t camouflaged. That was a question for later. Assuming there’d be a later.

“The rules,” Violete said as she waved for the newcomers to take seats. She began to pace in front of me. “You may quit the fight at any time. You automatically lose, but I and my people are not monsters. We don’t want you to die simply for the sport of it. You will be dishonored and kicked out of here. Possibly naked and beaten severely, but you will be alive.”

“Got it. Quit anytime to great shame. Continue.” I gave a bow. Harper groaned and Lassa chuckled. Not sure why he wasn’t more upset by everything.

“Cute,” Violete said. “Yes, quit anytime. Also, if one of us becomes unconscious then the fight is over. This is about honor, Chase. Attacking the helpless is not honorable.”

“Totally agree.”

“If both of us are still conscious, but one of us is losing severely, then the crowd has every right to call the fight. Again, honor. The point is not to kill the opponent. The point is to win the fight. No one gets murdered tonight.”

“I like that rule. Good rule.”

“Which brings us to the last one. This is very important. If one of us is killed during the fight, and it is an honorable death, then the winner cannot be punished.” She looked around the room and made eye contact with everyone, including the One Guy. “If I fall, my people must accept that. If you fall then your people must accept that.”

“I’m on board,” the One Guy said.

“Shut up, Leonard,” Harper shouted.

I glanced over and Harper gave me a nod. Lassa gave me a huge grin. Diane was sitting right next to him, her arms wrapped around his shaved yeti shoulders, her mouth nibbling on his ear. He gave me a thumbs up to go with the grin.

“Right. No revenge. Understood,” I said. “Guys?”

“No revenge,” Harper said with reluctance.

“Not even thinking it,” Lassa said. He pointed at the food tables. “Can we dish up before the fight begins?”

Violete laughed a little, not quite a giggle, but not a chuckle. Very feminine. Then she nodded. “Yes, you may dish up. Everyone may dish up. Let’s load plates then shove these tables out of the way.”

That’s exactly what happened. Plates were loaded and tables shoved out of the way. I could have gone for another plate, but I wasn’t exactly starving. I was still extremely hungry, but not in a pass out way at all. Strange.

Once the floor was clear, and there was room to fight, Violete nodded towards Harper who had joined Lassa and shooed Diane away. I walked over to them and we put our heads together.

“Strategy?” I asked.

“Grab her ass, dude,” Lassa said.

“Yeah, she might dig that from you, but that’s not going to help me,” I said.

Harper stared at Lassa for a minute then grinned. “You dick,” she said. “You acted like you didn’t know what she is, but you know exactly what she is.”

“I’m centuries old,” Lassa said. “Peluda are water creatures. They live by water, in water, anywhere there is water. Especially rivers. Now, my dimension has some great rivers, but our biggest source of water is . . . ?”

“Snow,” I said.

“Yep. Snow. Guess what? Peluda love to ski. They may be closed off from almost every single other dimension, but there’s still one they frequent. The one with the best slopes.”

He looked past us at Violete and there was only one interpretation of that leering grin.

“Oh, yeah, and they’re incredible lovers. You have no idea.”

“Gonna take your word for it, pal,” I said and patted him on the chest. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Hold on. I didn’t say what to do after you grab her ass. This is the important part. Peluda have tails. They used to be long, but someone figured out that was their weakness, so they dock them at birth. Yucky, but a good idea. Grab her ass, find the nub, and twist the shit out of it until the fight is over.”

“Grab her ass and twist her nub tail? Do that and I survive?”

“In theory, yeah, dude.”

“In theory?” I exclaimed and looked at Harper. “Harp?”

“The theory part is you getting in close enough to twist her tail and not be dead,” Harper said.

“Yes. That,” Lassa said and nodded. “Do that.”

“Whatever,” I said, still looking to Harper for help. “Any suggestions on how to stay alive while I try to get in close?”

“You heard the rules,” Harper said. “Do everything you want within those rules. Remember our third Christmas together?”

“The one where you stole enough burgers and fries for all of us to feast for two days?”

“Yes. Remember what happened when those punks tried to take the burgers from us?”

“Yes,” I said, picturing that night. “Yes. I remember that very well.”

“Do that. Or versions of that,” she said. “And don’t let those darts hit you. Keep your guard up.”

“That part I was already planning on doing,” I said.

“Chase? Shall we begin?” Violete called from the middle of the room.

“We shall,” I replied and gave my friends a semi-confident smile then turned to face my fate. “Someone gonna ring a bell or what?”

“Elias?” Violete asked.

There was an actual bell behind the bar hanging by the wall-wide mirror. Last call bell. Of course.

Elias gave it a ding and Violete had her tentacles out and whipping at me before I could even get my arms up. Good thing I wasn’t defending with my arms.

Dim shot from my palms and formed a thin shield. Surprisingly, Violete’s tentacles were able to slash through the Dim, but not by much. I kept that in mind as I danced back a couple feet and brought the Dim shield in closer, thickening it with each step.

She tried to whip her tentacles past the shield, but I adjusted and kept her back.

“Excellent,” she said from the other side of the Dim separating us. “A fine defense, Chase. I approve. But how is your offense?”

She slashed with everything she had and split my Dim shield in two. It poofed out, sent back to the space between dimensions as my surprise broke my concentration.

Several barbs were flying at me and I dove to the ground, letting them shoot past as I created a Dim rod and swiped at her legs. She jumped over the swipe easily,-but I didn’t expect that attack to connect. I expected the second attack to do the job. The one where I shot Dim straight from my palm and into her left shin, hitting the bone like a sledgehammer.

Violete cried out and went down on one knee. She stared at me, fire in her eyes. Literally. Her mouth opened wide and I barely got the Dim up in time to stop literal flames from burning me alive. The fire billowed out of her mouth and around the Dim shield.

“Didn’t see that coming!” I cried as I shoved the shield at her, connecting with her fire-breathing face.

She shouted something in a language I did not understand, but my guess was it wasn’t a compliment that time.

I hardened the shield and threw it at her as I created a Dim rod for each hand and went in closer. No guts, no glory. Fortune favors the bold. Take your shot when you can. Sweep the leg and all those other shitty sayings.

The Dim shield was gone, but Violete was slightly stunned from it. I took advantage and brought both Dim rods down in a sweeping arc, the attacks aimed for her head. She dodged and one hit her shoulder while the other missed entirely.

Pain blossomed in my gut and I glanced down to see a good dozen tentacles jammed into the surface of my abdomen. That shit hurt. Bad. My skin burned like a million jellyfish were stinging me at once. Then my skin began to tear as she yanked the tentacles back. Blood and bits of my clothing hung from the barbs as she sneered at me.

I cried out and lost my Dim rods as I threw my hands to the ground to keep from face planting.

“Do you yield?” she asked, bending close to me, her tentacles everywhere, flowing and moving across my body. “I will let you live if you yield.”

“Sounds good,” I mumbled.

My stomach was roasting. It felt like fire ants were biting and crawling all across my skin. And not only where the barbs had pierced my gut. My entire body was nothing but nerve pain.

A tentacle lifted my chin so I was forced to stare Violete in the fiery eyes. The flames winked out and were replaced with an emerald green so beautiful it was like I was staring into one of those National Geographic photos of a lost lake. Incredible.

Of course, in order to lift my chin with a tentacle and be close enough for me to marvel at her exquisite eye color, that meant she was well within ass grabbing range. But there was something I needed to do first.

I threw a fake punch and she barely flinched. She did laugh and a few of her people laughed too.

“Chase. Please. You are singular in this universe. Don’t make me kill you,” she said. Her tone was genuine. I honestly believed she didn’t want to kill me. “Yield.”

“Why?” I asked as Dim slammed up into her face.

I worked so fast that I lost track of where the Dim began and where it ended, but I didn’t need to see it. The design was already in my head and I threw it together around her. She screamed with frustration as she became enveloped in Dim.

Then I slammed the lid. On her head. Twice. Three times. Four.

I knew how to fight with the Dim, but my true talent was in making boxes. Boxes need lids. And lids can be slammed down. Over and over.

I struggled to my feet. Not an easy task since every single part of me wanted to slough off and creep into a dark corner. I don’t know what that toxin was in those barbs, but it sucked. The only reason I could think of as to why I wasn’t totally incapacitated was because I was working the Dim and my metabolism was burning through the poison.

Or she went easy on me.

I staggered in close and sent the box away. Violete collapsed against me and I held her close.

“Honk,” I said as I grabbed her ass, found that nub of a tail, and gave it a twist.

Or that was the plan. Instead, I found a full-length, muscular-as-a-python, tail attached to her ass. She grinned at me as it yanked free of my grip and raised into the air like a scorpion, the barbed tip hovering at my eye level.

“Now you see why I was exiled,” she said. “No one takes my tail.”

“Huh,” I mumbled. “Shit.”

So, I did something I’d never done before. It was a risk. It wasn’t exactly honorable. But it was what popped into my mind and I went for it. Sweep the leg!

The Dim went from my palm to the end of the tail and wrapped it in a nice little box as it struck. I caught a faceful of Dim, which hurts like a bitch, and stumbled back. But not before I scratched a key from the tiny box.

Then I snapped my fingers and the room was filled with Violete’s wails.

“No!!!!” she screamed as she brought her tail around so she could stare at the spot where the tip had been. “What did you do?”

“Took your tail,” I said and held my thumb and forefinger together. “Just the tip.”

“I’ll kill you!” she snarled as all of her tentacles took aim.

“And never get that part of your tail back,” I said, holding up the key. “I don’t know your physiology, but you have a reptilian vibe. I bet you can put that bit of tail back on and heal it up in no time. If I give it back.”

Her tentacles paused. She wasn’t holding back then. I could see the poison dripping from each barb. She was pumping them at full strength and I had no doubt that one sting would kill me.

“Or I send this key into the Dim where even I can’t retrieve it,” I said. “Your choice. Yield.”

“I will not lose my honor,” she said. “I fight.”

“No,” I said and walked to the bar. I slumped onto one of the bar stools and snapped my fingers at Elias who was still at his post. “Bourbon. Lots.”

“Have you quit, Chase Lawter?” Violete shouted.

“Nope,” I said. Elias didn’t pour. “Pal, you’ll be wanting to line up shots right now. I’m in a drinking mood.”

“Ma’am?” Elias asked.

“No, do not pour him a damn thing!” Violete roared.

It was almost as powerful as a dragon’s roar and as the walls shook I had to wonder how closely related pedula were to dragons. That whole fire breathing thing kinda made them cousins, in a way.

“Fight me or you forfeit,” Violete snarled.

I held up the Dim key and my fingers twitched.

“No!” she screamed and leapt for me.

I put a Dim fist in her belly and she doubled over. But her tentacles didn’t and they were all aimed at me, poison barbs ready to get stabby. When she straightened up, her eyes went to the Dim key.

“You know what?” I said. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I didn’t want to fight in the first place.”

“Then you quit and you are dishonored,” she hissed in my face.

“That’s bullshit, lady. Complete bullshit. This is Earth, not whatever swamp dimension you come from. It’s okay for people to ask for help without having to perform ritualistic combat. Shit, people do nice things for each other all the time. We don’t have to fight. We can eat and drink and laugh and get to know each other. I’ve been fighting for every goddamn thing in my life and I’m goddamn sick of it.”

I pounded my fist on the bar.

“Goddammit, Elias! Pour the fucking bourbon!”

He set out a row of shot glasses then held a bottle of bourbon over them.

“Ma’am?” he asked.

“How about this then,” I said as I took a deep breath. I snapped my fingers around the Dim key and a box appeared on the top of the bar next to the shot glasses. The Dim key was gone. “Trade you shots for your tail. Cool?”

“What?” Violete asked. “How will you win the fight then?”

“Done fighting. Not quitting, just done. That shit you pumped me with? Hurts like a son of a bitch. I’m planning on bourbon numbing the pain.” I gave her a hopeful look. “Will bourbon numb the pain?”

She studied me and I could have bet no one in the room took a breath during those seconds. Then her tentacles lowered and she nodded to Elias.

“Pour,” she said and turned to look at the room. “Maaike?”

“I’ll get the baking soda,” Maaike said and jogged back to the kitchen.

“Baking soda?” I asked.

“For the stings,” Violete said and sat down next to me. “Helps draw out the poison and reduces swelling.”

“Like a goddamn bee sting?”

“Like a goddamn bee sting,” she replied as she took two shots of bourbon then raised her eyebrows at me. “You drinking or what?”

“I am,” I said and matched her two shots.

“That was fun,” Lassa said and we all looked at him. He tapped the side of his nose. “What? I knew no one was going to die. Homicide has a stink to it.” He winked at Violete. “You, my lady, do not stink.”

Violete tipped her head back and laughed. There were more shots done.

26.

MORNING CAME FAST and early. We got maybe two hours sleep before Violete was tapping my cheek with one of her barbs. Sans poison, luckily.

I woke up with a bitch of a headache from the bourbon and the after-effects of the poison. I needed a little more than baking soda to get patched up. Violete had torn the shit out of my gut. Good thing she had Elias. The centaur really was a wiz with the healing.

He had stitched me up, wrapped my torso in bandages with a thick compress of baking soda and something that smelled like rotten eggs, then patted me on the shoulder and poured more shots. The night went on.

“Hey. You didn’t murder me in my sleep,” I said as I pried my gummy eyes open and smiled at Violete. I sat up in the booth I’d chosen to bed down in and looked around. “Thanks for that.”

“That would be the most dishonorable way to kill an opponent. And we are no longer opponents,” Violete said as she sat down, bumping me over with her hip.

“What time is it?”

“Eight. Don’t worry, you’ll get to sleep some more later. Right now we need to talk.”

“Sleep more later? We should get on the road.”

“Not yet.” She nodded over at the corner booth where Diane slept in Lassa’s arms. “Vampires aren’t much use in the daylight. We’ll need her.”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked around. Teddy was passed out across a table and Elias was busy cleaning up the top of the bar, which was covered in shot glasses, empty pint glasses, and discarded bottles of booze.

“Where’s everyone else?” I asked seeing that none of the spectators was around. “Maaike?”

“Here,” she said as she came out of the kitchen, plates of food balanced on her arms, and a cup of coffee in each hand.

“Thems some fine waitressing skills,” I said as she set everything down on the table.

“Did it for most of eternity,” she said as she walked over to the bar where Elias handed her a third cup of coffee and a handful of silverware. She returned, sat down across from me and Violete and tossed me a napkin-wrapped fork, spoon, and knife. “Eat up, Lawter. You’ll want your strength.”

I didn’t argue as I pulled a plate piled with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast over to me.

“Thanks,” I said and dug in.

The women watched me until I’d finished that plate and glanced at the other full ones.

“They’re all for you,” Maaike said. “I ate.”

“And I have different tastes,” Violete said.

My fork paused on the way to my mouth. “Which would mean what?”

“My tastes are different,” she replied with a laugh. “You aren’t on the menu. Relax, Chase. I thought after last night we were good.”

“We are, we are,” I said. “But trust isn’t my superpower. Far from it.”

“You trust your friends,” Maaike said. “The bond glows bright between you.”

“Literally?” I asked.

“To those that can see such things,” she said.

“Valkyries can?”

“Valkyries can. We transport and serve the most worthy of warriors in Valhalla. Bonds like yours are what light up the Great Hall.”

“Good to know,” I said and continued eating.

Third plate empty and I leaned back with a sigh. I waved my hand at the table. “How?” I asked. “I’m getting full, but I can eat ten times that amount after the Dim work I did last night.”

“Valkyries serve warriors,” Maaike said. “Warriors eat and drink a lot. We’d be on our feet all night if what we served did not satisfy. I’m all about hard work, but a girl needs a smoke break now and again.”

I laughed and sipped my coffee.

The woman’s bathroom door kicked open and Harper came out, zipping her fly and buckling her belt.

“Now, that is how you start a morning,” she said then saw me. “Good. You’re awake. Let’s figure out how we get back to Asheville in one piece.”

“Are we going to Asheville?” I asked. “That’s what the One Guy wants. Maybe we sneak into DC and leave him on the DEX’s doorstep. Let them have him and then we go back home.”

“Screw what the One Guy wants, going home is what I want,” Harper said. “Get back on our home turf where we have allies.”

“And legal representation,” I said, quickly seeing her point. Not that I wanted to go into the heart of the magical insanity that DC was anyway. I nodded in agreement. “Nothing like a law firm of banshees having your back to make you sleep well at night.”

“Don’t say that in front of Sharon,” Harper said. “She’d split her spleen worrying about the cost.”

“She does that anyway.”

“True.”

“Can you keep your voices down?” Lassa grumbled. “Too loud.”

“Sorry, pal. We’ll put everything on hold so you can sleep more,” I said as Harper joined us, sitting next to Maaike.

“Thanks,” Lassa replied, but he was already snoring a second after the word left his lips.

I froze. Everything had been so hunky dory that I missed a very important element.

“Uh, where’s the One Guy?” I asked.

“I stuck him in the freezer,” Maaike said. “He’s secure.”

“Alive secure?” I asked.

“Alive. Chilly, but he’ll be fine,” she replied and leaned on the table. “Do you have any idea how hexed up he is? There are so many layers upon layers of paranoia built into him that I had a hard time disentangling all of them. I didn’t even come close to getting to the bottom of his protections. That man is ready for almost anything that can be thrown at him.”

“Except for blood ghasts,” Violete said. “The only hexes that work on them are to summon and banish. Nothing else.”

“Which is why all the scumbags across the country are using them to take each other out,” I said. “Right. Got that part. So, what are we going to do about them?” I pointed my coffee cup at Harper. “We can’t carve her up for banishment parts.”

“I can spare some,” Harper said.

“Jesus, Harp, no,” I said.

“Chase is right, that’s a no,” Violete said. “A healthy Harper Kyles is a better weapon than a wounded Harper Kyles.”

“Then what’s the solution?” I asked.

“We banish them a different way,” Violete said and wriggled her fingers close to my face. “And not back to where they came from. Somewhere else entirely. Somewhere only you can access.”

“The Dim?” I responded. I set my cup down. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“And why not?”

“Because I don’t know what will happen. I don’t.” I shrugged. “True story. Dim boxes may not hold them.”

“They hold anything,” Violete said, glancing from Maaike to Harper and back to me. “Or am I missing something?”

“Yeah, lady, you are,” I snapped then patted her arm. “Sorry. Still tired.”

“What am I missing?” Violete asked.

“Your tentacles sliced through the Dim,” I said. “Surprising, but not unheard of. I’ve had shit slice through it before. And that should tell you that the Dim is not impervious.”

“And it takes energy,” Harper said, backing me up. “Even the boxes that are sent back to the nothing.” She pointed at the plates on the table. “Part of why he has to eat so much.”

“Oh,” Violete said. “I thought once they were banished, they didn’t draw from you.”

“They do. Only a fraction of what an active box does, but they still do,” I said. “The strength I’d need to make a Dim box to hold a blood ghast? Shit. I’m starving again even thinking of it.”

“Huh. All right,” Violete said. “We can’t chop up Ms. Kyles. And you aren’t willing to risk sending them into the Dim.”

“Didn’t say I wasn’t willing,” I countered. “I said I didn’t know what would happen.”

“Semantics,” Violete continued. “Looks like we need another option.”

“We need kobold parts,” Maaike said. “But there is no way we can get those. Even if our black market contacts have some, the cost would be enormous.”

“Wait, what? Black market? What do you mean?” I asked.

“The black market is everywhere, Chase,” Harper said. “Even in places without a Grand Hex. Contraband will always find a way to be bought and sold.”

“I am willing to bet kobold parts are worth a fortune right now,” Maaike said. “All these attacks and the price of a knuckle would have to be astronomical. Damned price gougers.”

Harper’s head whipped about and we locked eyes.

“We have a winner,” Harper said and laughed that cold laugh of hers when she wanted to kill anything and everything in sight, but saw the futility of the homicidal actions at the same time.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I said.

Harper and I obviously came to the same conclusion at the exact same time. Our heads swiveled and looked towards the kitchen and its freezer.

“Goddammit,” I muttered as I got up. “I’ll handle this.”

“Handle what?” Maaike asked.

“You nailed it earlier, sister,” Harper said. “A fortune can be made off kobold parts.”

Maaike glanced towards the kitchen. “You think he has more? I thought the shortage of kobold parts was why he needed a Stolen.”

“Who do you think created that shortage? That son of a bitch. I knew there was more to this. I knew there was another angle,” I said and started walking towards the kitchen. “I’m going to find out how much more he has and where.”

“We will find out together,” Violete said. “Your history is too muddled. He’ll get inside your head.”

“She’s got a point,” Harper said. “He’s good, Chase. The asshole plans for everything. He knew he might be found out. He’ll be prepared. I’ll go chat with him.”

“You aren’t much more removed than Chase. And considerably more deadly. I foresee the One Guy’s death if you go ‘chat’ with him,” Violete said to her. She nodded at Maaike. “Go over the route with Harper. We’ll take everyone here along with Goss and Verber.”

“The twins? You sure?” Maaike asked.

“I wish I wasn’t,” Violete said and got up to follow me.

“Who are Goss and Verber?” Harper asked.

“We’ll get to that,” Maaike said, looking none too pleased at the idea.

“Chase? Let’s go have an unpleasant talk with an unpleasant man,” Violete said as she took me by the arm and led me to the kitchen.

The kitchen was small. Not sure how Lassa had room to cook, let alone to move around.

“The One Guy is in the freezer?” I asked, looking about for a walk-in, but there was obviously not enough space for one. “Am I missing something?”

Then I saw it. A chest freezer shoved in the corner with old boxes stacked on top. Violete’s tentacles whipped out and moved the boxes then she unlatched the freezer and popped it open.

“Hello,” she said down into the freezer.

I stepped next to her and laughed. It was a good thirty feet deep.

“Nice hex,” I said.

At the bottom, chained to a chair, was the One Guy staring up at us. He had frost covering him, but wasn’t chattering or shivering at all.

“You realized you still need me,” he said with confidence. “Surprise.”

“We need each other,” Violete said. “You need us to transport you back to safety. We need you to give us all the kobold parts you have squirreled away so we can fight off the blood ghasts that will be coming for you.”

“Kobold parts? No idea what you could possibly be talking about,” the One Guy said. “I mean, if I had”—

One of Violete’s tentacles stretched the thirty feet in a blink and gave the One Guy a hard slap across the cheek, the barbed end cutting a thin line in his flesh.

“Ow,” the One Guy said with a smirk. “You know, I have several clients back in Asheville that would pay a premium price for one night with you. You wouldn’t even have to have sex with them. A little rough stuff with those tentacles of yours and you’d be rich as can be.”

Violete glared, but did not respond to his offer.

“No go? A pity.”

“Is there any part of you that isn’t disgusting?” I snarled.

“And you. I didn’t forget about you,” the One Guy said, looking directly at me. “You think you can disentangle from this so easily, that it’ll all be peaches and cream for you? Oh, Chase, they aren’t done with you either.”

“Yay me,” I said as I spat a loogie down on his head.

“You asshole!” he yelled. “What the hell?”

“Yeah, no magic torture from me, pal,” I said. “I’m gonna spit and piss and drop all kinds of shit, probably even literal shit, down on you until you stop being a prick and realize you got yourself in as deep as you got us.”

“I know,” the One Guy said quietly.

I looked about the kitchen.

“What?” Violete asked.

“Waiting for the chorus of angels to arrive,” I said. “Leonard Maguire admitted to something. That has to prove the existence of God.”

“Funny, Chase. Very funny,” the One Guy yelled up at us. “But I didn’t live this long because I’m stupid. I’ve been working all the angles of how I get out of this and they all lead back to me making a phone call.”

He shifted his focus to Violete. “What time are we getting on the road?”

“As soon as the sun goes down,” she replied.

“You must be bringing the vampire.”

“Among others, yes.”

He scrunched up his ugly face then nodded.

“I’m gonna lose a ton of money, but this was always a gamble,” he said finally. “I can get them here on time. Or close. They might have to meet us on the road.”

“You want us to tell some outside party what route we’re taking?” I laughed. “Leonard, you crazy.”

“It isn’t an issue,” Violete said. “We’ll be taking the interstate the whole way.”

“We what now?” I asked. “You said for Maaike to plan the route with Harper.”

“That was to distract Harper from killing the One Guy,” Violete replied. “It worked.”

“So you already have a route planned? And that route is the interstate?” I asked. “You crazy like Leonard.”

“We need this out in the open, Chase,” she explained. “The DEX will be forced to keep back or risk a dark highway of drivers being exposed to the realities of the new world.”

I smirked. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s see what shit happens.”

“Yes. Let’s,” Violete said.

“Gonna pull me up or what?” the One Guy called to us. “Gotta make that phone call ASAP or no kobold parts.”

27.

“WE KNOW OUR roles?” Violete asked all of us as we stood in the twilight lit parking lot.

“Goss and Verber drive,” Maaike said, pointing to the two men that stood next to the cab of the box truck we’d be using as our way home. “No fighting for them unless we get into a fight that is hard to handle. Last resort only.”

I leaned close to Harper and whispered, “What are they again?”

“Dullahan,” she whispered back. “Headless horsemen.”

“Sleepy Hollow shit?”

“Worse. Way worse.”

“Lovely.”

“Lassa is in the cab with them to take the wheel if they are needed,” Maaike continued.

“Hi,” Lassa said and raised a hand as he bowed to everyone. Diane giggled.

“I’ll be on top with Diane. The roof is lowered and sides raised so we have a perch up there,” Maaike said. “Harper and Chase are inside the back with Violete, Elias, Teddy, and the One Guy. Use the side ports if you need to.”

Elias and Teddy climbed up into the back of the truck and opened side panels to demonstrate. They pulled shotguns free from hooks under the panels and stuck them through the ports.

“Not my first rodeo,” Harper said. “But thanks for the demo.”

“Violete will be watching the One Guy,” Maaike said. “If he needs to banish some blood ghasts then she will make sure he does so without any trickery.”

The One Guy yawned.

“Chase and Harper? You are last resort also,” Maaike said. “Keep your eyes on the One Guy.”

“All of this for little ol’ me?” the One Guy said.

“We do not stop,” Maaike said, ignoring him. “No piss breaks. No gas ups. No snacks. We drive straight through to Asheville. Once there we have worked out neutral ground where everyone can go their separate ways.”

“Any hints?” I asked. “Hard to find neutral ground with our histories.”

“I found it and I’ll let you know when we’re there,” Maaike replied. She glared at the One Guy. “Wouldn’t want someone to tip off his people and complicate things.”

“Then what?” the One Guy asked. “The mess is still the mess.”

“Your mess,” Violete said. “We’ve been asked to escort you back, which we will do for a fair price to be paid when we need it.” She looked at me and Harper. We nodded. She returned her attention to the One Guy. “You’re a big boy. Take care of your own fuckups.”

“Can I get a hug at least?” the One Guy asked. He received a slap across the face by several tentacles. “That’s a no.”

“We load up now,” Maaike said.

“Quick question,” I said. “No gassing up? Plenty of hexes that can make that happen, but they tend to mess with engines. Even on the Gory Gauntlet we gassed up.”

“This ride does not need gas,” Goss said.

He was a large man, thick in the chest and shoulders, and had a tangle of curly, unruly red hair on top of his head. His face was covered in scars. When he grinned at me, the inside of his mouth looked like an endless cavern.

“This ride never needs gas,” Verber said.

He was as big as Goss and was completely bald. Although it looked like he had some fuzz of hair on top. That moved. I tried not to look too closely at it.

I pointed at my own head. “Aren’t headless horsemen supposed to be, uh, headless?”

“Show him,” Maaike said.

I blinked and the truck was no longer a truck, but a massive wagon made up of human bones with a stinking, bloody covering stitched together from human skin. Maggots crawled across every inch of the wagon. Large candles made from the thighs of corpses sputtered and flamed inside.

When I could pull my eyes away from the monstrosity, I turned to see Goss and Verber were indeed headless. They cradled their heads under their left arms. The skin looked like moldy cheese. In their other hands they held long whips that were made from human spines.

Then I blinked and it was a normal truck with two big guys standing by the cab.

“That’ll teach me to ask too many questions,” I said.

“I doubt that,” Harper said and walked to the back of the truck. “Leonard? After you.”

The One Guy ignored the use of his name, nodded and climbed in. No recliners or chairs. Only benches along the walls. The One Guy didn’t take a bench, but sat down cross-legged in the middle of the truck.

Diane kissed Lassa then climbed quickly on top of the truck.

“This should be fun,” Lassa said as he clapped me on the shoulder and walked to the cab. He climbed in and was quickly followed by Goss and Verber.

“Chase,” Violete said. “If you have to, do not hesitate to use the Dim to take the blood ghasts out of the equation. I know you have worries about banishing them, but they can be dealt with later.”

“We’ll see,” I said. “We don’t know we’re going to have a ton of blood ghasts coming for us for sure.”

“Oh, they’re coming,” the One Guy called from inside the truck.

The tone in his voice was pure bait. I didn’t bite and stayed quiet. We were prepared for blood ghasts if they came. If they didn’t, and the One Guy was wrong, then that was a positive. No need to engage when he was obviously just being the One Guy.

Elias and Teddy climbed in. Elias held out a hand and helped Violete inside, leaving me, Harper, and Maaike to stand by the doors. Doors. Not a sliding door, but two side-by-side doors that could be locked, latched, and secured from the inside. Not that doors did much to stop blood ghasts. But it was the thought that counted.

“We live through this and Black Box Inc. will owe the Exiles a good deal,” Maaike said. “Are you truly prepared for a debt like that?”

“As much as you are prepared to risk your lives to gain our indebtedness,” Harper said.

“Lawter?” Maaike asked me. “You’ll bear more of the burden of the debt than anyone. While Stolen aren’t exactly a dime a dozen, they are out there. More of you aren’t.”

“Don’t say shit like that. It only adds to his ego,” Harper said and climbed in.

“I’m cool with the debt,” I said, ignoring Harper’s ego comment. “You seem like good people. I’m going to trust I’m right and when the time comes, the debt you call in is payable without killing me.”

“Might not be.”

“A boy can dream. And at least with your help maybe I’ll live long enough to dream for a while longer.”

I climbed in and Maaike gave me a nod then shut and latched the doors. We could hear her climb up on top then all was quiet.

A walkie squawked and Harper pulled one from her belt. We all had walkies. No need for radio silence since we were expecting to be discovered. Best to stay in communication with the guys up front and the women on top.

“Moving out,” Lassa said over the walkie. “We’ll pick up the package at Exit 118. As long as the One Guy isn’t lying.”

“I’m not,” the One Guy replied from his seat on the floor. “Tell him to look for a 1972 Dodge Charger. Fire engine red. Those will be the guys with the parts.”

The inside of the truck was strung with strands of bare bulbed lights, so it was easy to see the glare he gave me.

“The price I paid to get the parts is one we’ll discuss later,” he said. “The Exiles aren’t the only ones expecting some Dim work down the road.”

“Your problem,” I said and took a seat on one of the benches as the truck jolted and bumped out of the parking lot. “You deal with it.”

“We’ll see about that, Chase.”

“Oh, shut up will ya?” Teddy barked. “You little tiny humans and your little tiny problems. Try being an exiled hellhound and see how your perspective changes!”

He sat on the opposite bench, shotgun across his lap, corner of his lip up in a snarl.

“Eventually you little shits will be dead. Teddy? Nope. Teddy lives forever. An eternity of being Teddy.” He tapped his temple. “You couldn’t handle one day being me.”

“Drop it,” Elias said quietly. “They’ll never understand.”

“Or never want to,” the One Guy said.

Harper punched him so hard that one of his teeth came loose and clattered to the floor next to him. It was a testament to how much of his humanity the One Guy had lost over the years of being so defensively hexed. His entire mouth should have been a mangled mess. Except he only lost a tooth. Just a single tooth. Harper shook her fist and looked at Teddy. After a second the exiled hellhound gave a slight nod and turned his attention away from us.

Not that there was much to look at in the truck. The benches. The lights. The closed ports in the walls. Shotguns and assault rifles hooked in strategic places. Us. That was about all there was to see.

Violete stood swaying with the motion of the truck, her back to all of us as she faced the direction of the cab. I watched her for a long while, but she didn’t budge. Never looked over her shoulder at anything anyone said. Fifteen minutes passed before I got up and went to her side.

“Centuries as an Exile,” I said. “All because you didn’t want to mutilate yourself?”

“There might have been other reasons,” she said without turning to look at me.

“I’m sure there were.” I studied the wall in front of us. “Nice wall.”

“What would you like to ask me, Chase?”

“Your appearance. You don’t hide it. Everyone else hides theirs. Why not you?”

“I don’t have to,” she said, still not looking at me. “People choose what they want to see and not see. I have been on Earth so long that it has become second nature for humanity to look away from who I truly am. No magic involved.”

“When you say you’ve been around for centuries, about how long are we talking, really?”

“Why so curious?”

“I thought I knew a lot about the extradimensional BS that has happened to Earth. Way more than your average bear. But the past couple of months have taught me I don’t know even a small percentage of what’s out there. I doubt I ever will. But, while I’m standing next to the leader of the Exiles . . .”

“You thought you’d ask a few questions.”

“I thought I’d ask a few questions.”

“I have been around for millennia,” Violete said.

“Millennia? As in plural?”

“As in plural.”

“That’s a lot of centuries.”

“I had already been here a long time when the world was flooded and a certain human refused to let me on his boat.”

She turned and looked at me.

“It was a very big boat and he had room. But he was full of fear. So he barred me from the safety of his hold.”

She looked away again.

“I tormented his people for a very long time after that. Not something I’m proud of. Until I met a young girl that would have been close to a hundred generations removed, but still of his bloodline. I was going to flay her alive and leave her for her parents to mourn over.”

“Okay . . .”

“But she gave me a handful of berries.”

“I like berries. Berries are good.”

She laughed and gave me a side look. “Yes, Chase, berries are good. Would you like me to finish?”

“Sorry.”

“The girl handed me the berries and began to cry. Not because she was scared of me. The complete opposite. Because she saw me for who I was and wanted my help. I knelt next to her and she looked me straight in the face and opened her mouth. Razor sharp teeth lined her gums and her tongue was a shredded mess. Someone had hexed her. It was awful.”

“She needed a monster to help her fight a monster.”

“Yes. Precisely. Despite the fact she had heard the legend of what I was and how much I hated her ancestors, she was willing to ask for my help against someone that scared her even more. All she had in the world was that handful of berries. My wrath had turned her family into not much more than vermin among the civilization that had built up over time.”

“Did you help her?”

“Of course I helped her. What kind of story do you think I’m telling? I helped her completely. I found the man responsible, he was an imp of a man that considered himself wise in the ways of magic, but all he was was a coward that had found a crack in the dimensions and was syphoning off power to use against girls like her. If they refused him then he cursed them. The idiot didn’t even know how to form a hex properly. It was dumb luck when it worked. Horrible luck for the girl.”

“And the man? What’d you do?”

“I spat acid all over him and watched as he screamed and pleaded and melted into a puddle before my eyes. Then I helped the girl as much as I could. I found her a healer that did have more than dumb luck with hexes. When I returned her to her family, I realized that I didn’t have it in me anymore to torment their line. It was exhausting keeping that anger and hatred burning for so many years. It is such a waste of a life to stay mad at those that you perceived to have wronged you. Much better to let the anger fall away and get on with living.”

“She’s talking about us, Chase,” the One Guy said from behind us.

“Yes, Leonard, I figured that out,” I said. I rolled my eyes at Violete. “I did.”

“I know,” she said and patted my arm. “Think about it. No hurry. Don’t be stupid and trust right away. But at some point the feud you two have will become too exhausting to maintain. Don’t let it drag you down so much that you forget to live.”

“Thanks, but I’m good,” I said. “Life ain’t so bad, actually. I’ve got good friends and a job that I like.” I looked about the truck. “Sometimes like.”

All of our walkies squawked.

“Coming up on the handoff,” Lassa announced.

“That means I’m up,” Violete said as Elias opened one of the ports. “Get ready.”

She went to the port and tentacle after tentacle shot outside the truck and returned with a backpack in hand. After ten were piled at her feet, she stepped back and Elias closed the port.

We all stared at the backpacks.

“I’d hate to run into some kobolds right now,” I said. “This wouldn’t be easy to explain.”

28.

MY BEST CALCULATION is we made it about sixty miles before we got hit.

It wasn’t blood ghasts. Not that it was much better.

Goddamn Portal Patriots militia assholes.

“Don’t they know they’re nothing in all of this?” I shouted at the One Guy as the truck was peppered by automatic gunfire. “These guys are pawns, right?”

“Oh, they’re pawns,” the One Guy said, his arms wrapped over his head. “But, have you ever known pawns to be very bright?”

“Fair enough,” I said as I crouch-walked over to where Harper was positioned next to one of the open ports. “What do you see?”

“A bunch of assholes in pickup trucks,” she said.

A bullet ricocheted off the frame of the open port, but Harper didn’t flinch. Goss and Verber insisted that nothing man-made could penetrate their truck. Now, if the militia started using something a little less conventional then it would get interesting.

“Lassa?” I asked over the walkie as I crouch-walked back across the truck to where Elias was standing, shotgun ready. “How we looking?”

“Good question. Hey, beautiful women kicking ass up top? How’s the view?” he asked, shunting my question to those with the better view.

“Eight pickup trucks. Four on one side, four in back,” Maaike said, her voice a crackling mess from the road noise. “Looking like six dipshits per truck, all heavily armed.”

“I can hear that,” I said as the bullets continued to impact the sides of the truck. “Are we taking them out or what?”

“No,” Maaike replied. “We let them fire until they either run out of ammunition or decide to attack with something else. Right now we look like a truck being attacked. I want to keep it that way in case law enforcement not in the know shows up. The DEX will try to keep them back, but there’s always some yahoo in enforcement that has to play Wyatt Earp. Let the militia be Earp’s target, not us.”

“We wait,” Lassa said.

“I can handle that,” I said and clipped the walkie to the front pocket of my jeans.

It was hard not to flinch at every bullet that winged off the side of the truck. Spending one’s teen years on the streets tends to condition you to ducking and covering your head at the sound of gunfire.

Case in point.

“You’re safe,” I said to the One Guy who was busy covering his head with his arms. “If we’re risking the wrath of kobolds by using royal parts to banish blood ghasts then I think you can handle some pot shots by human supremacists.”

“Hardly pot shots,” the One Guy replied. But he did lower his arms. “I’ve had more than my share of hexed bullets come for me, so my instinct is a little more honed than yours.”

“Quite the goddamn assumption,” I said. “And also, tough shit. You chose your life. You want to be kingpin of Asheville? You’re gonna get shot at, hexed bullets or no hexed bullets. People and beings will always be gunning for you.”

He faced me fully and smiled. “Exactly, Chase. Now you see why I was doing what I was doing. It was time to not be gunned at.”

I watched him, looking for the lie. I couldn’t find it. Or not that lie. Plenty of lies on his face, but that statement rang true. At least it rang true enough in his head that he believed his BS.

“Fair enough,” I said. “Except you were sacrificing me and my friends to get away from the life you created. So fuck you and the horse you rode in on, pal.”

“Can we stop with the horse comments?” Elias asked from his spot by a port.

“My bad,” I said.

The truck shook. Hard.

“Should that happen?” I asked, turning to Harper. “Harp?”

She was looking out her port and frowning.

“New players,” she said. “Maybe different militia, but I don’t know. They have cars, not trucks. Doesn’t mean”—

“What kind of cars?” the One Guy asked.

“Little compacts with those fins and flashy lights on the wheels,” Harper said. “Very Tokyo Drift.”

“Shit,” the One Guy said and glanced at the backpacks. “Kobolds. They found us.”

“Well, that’s just goddamn great,” I said and threw up my hands. The truck shook again. “Kobolds do know how to use hexed weapons. This should get interesting.”

“Elias. Teddy. Target the kobolds,” Violete ordered from her spot in the truck. She really wasn’t fazed by any of it.

We heard a high shrieking from above then a loud boom. The truck shook again, but not from any direct impact. It shook from the concussion of whatever went boom.

“Maaike is on it,” Harper said, her head halfway out the port. She ducked back as something blue and bright went whizzing past. “Sort of.”

Another shriek and another boom.

“What is she firing up there?” I asked.

“Lightning,” Violete replied.

“That’s handy,” I said as another crashing boom shook the truck. “Valkyries can throw lightning?”

“Maaike can,” Violete replied. “She stole it from one of her gods and never gave it back. Hard to give up that kind of power.”

“Yeah, I bet. I doubt I could give up using Dim anytime soon.”

My walkie clicked and Maaike’s voice came crackling out of the speaker.

“Lawter? You up for using your Dim?” she asked.

“Sure, but how?” I replied.

“Get close to the doors. Elias? Teddy? Brace him. Goss and Verber will position the truck and I’ll let you know when to open the back doors. Prep a few boxes and get ready to throw.”

“Traps?”

“Yeah. Like you did to Violete’s tail.”

“Traps it is.” I moved to the rear doors. “What will I be aiming for?”

“The last of the militia,” Maaike responded. It was hard to make out what she said over a couple more booms and an earsplitting shriek of metal. “Get ready! Now!”

Elias and Teddy joined me by the back doors. Elias flung one open while Teddy hung onto my belt loops to keep me from tumbling forward as I began assembling and throwing very large Dim boxes out onto the interstate behind us.

The first box was a mess and slammed into the windshield of a pickup truck, doing nothing more than cracking the glass and tearing off the radio antenna. A bunch of pissed off gunmen took aim and fired their rifles right at me.

I threw up a Dim wall, filling the open doorway, and blocked the bullets easily. Then I got my head together and threw that wall straight at the pickup, warping and twisting the Dim until it enveloped the entire truck’s cab. I added a few yards more to the volume and it took over the whole vehicle.

With the flick of a wrist, the Dim closed tight then I snapped my fingers and it was gone.

Permanently gone. I didn’t take a key from it, so that truck and those gunmen were lost to the Dim forever. I felt a quick pang of guilt, but that pang disappeared as the next truck took its place and more bullets came at us.

The militia did my job for me, each truck replacing the next. They were getting in line to be banished forever. Idiots.

I blocked their gunfire, threw the Dim wall at the truck, gave it a little tweak, snapped my fingers, and it was gone militia gone. Four trucks later and the interstate was clear of gun-wielding, pickup truck-riding, yahoos.

That left the kobolds to do their Fast and Furious impression.

Maaike had been keeping them back with her lightning, but it was easy to see the little buggers were working on hexing their vehicles to get past the strikes of energy. Different colored magics flashed across the already garish paint jobs, adding to the visual assault.

“Don’t use the Dim,” Maaike called over the walkie. “Elias? Close it up.”

“What? Why?” I asked as the rear doors closed. Elias shrugged and returned to his port. Same with Teddy. I looked over at Violete and Harper, but neither offered an explanation. “Maaike? Why no Dim with the kobolds?”

“Gut feeling,” Maaike said. “And Diane is seeing some weird infrared coming off those cars.”

“Mojo feedback,” Diane said. “Don’t know how the Dim will react.”

“Mojo feedback?” I replied. “Okay. Cool. No Dim.”

“Good call,” Harper said. “Mojo feedback might have sent that Dim wrapping back around you, Chase.”

“Exactly,” I agreed.

“We’re going conventional from here on out,” Maaike said. “Those sneaky little bastards.”

Not that conventional wasn’t effective.

Elias, Teddy, and Harper began firing out of their ports any time a kobold vehicle tried to get up on either side of our truck. Up top I could hear plenty of automatic fire and even a couple of RPG launches, followed by the dull explosion of a miss or the intense cacophony of a hit. Kobold driven or not, those cars were gas powered and gas goes boom.

“More on the way,” Lassa said over the walkie. “Dude . . . There has to be a dozen more of those little cars flying up on our ass.”

“What’s the total?” I asked.

“Eighteen? Twenty?” Lassa replied.

“I count twenty,” Maaike said, her voice tired and frustrated. “Not sure how they’re doing it, but they replace themselves anytime we take out one of their cars. They’ve got mages riding with them or they wouldn’t be able to do that. We’re outgunned here, people.”

“Thoughts?” I asked everyone in the truck. “Violete? Those barbs any good against mage-protected kobold cars?”

“No,” she replied. “I won’t be of much use until we reach our destination. At that point my expertise will come into play. Right now, I defer to your expertise in combat.”

“I could call in all of my dopplers,” the One Guy said.

“They won’t get here in time,” Harper said. “And you trust those idiots not to get lost on the way?”

“Between all their brains they’d get here,” the One Guy replied. “You underestimate the dopplers.”

“No. I don’t,” Harper said. “I really don’t.”

“Dopplers are off the table,” I said. “We don’t need you bringing in your own army. That doesn’t seem like a good solution.”

The truck shook hard and Harper threw herself to the floor as a flash of bright green hit her port. The metal began to melt then the port disappeared entirely and was replaced by that moldy skin stuff that the truck was really made out of. No more port and no more illusion.

“They’re going to bring down the camouflage,” Harper said. “Then they’ll try to destroy the truck once they know what they’re up against.”

“How many extradimensional treaties does that break?” I asked. “Intentionally revealing a hexed vehicle for all normal humans to see? The DEX is gonna be the least of the kobolds’ worries.”

“They want their kin back,” Violete said, her eyes locked onto the One Guy. “If we return the body parts, the attack will end.”

“Not a good idea,” the One Guy replied. “Those parts are all that stand between us and death when the blood ghasts arrive.”

“All that stand between you and the blood ghasts, you mean,” Violete responded. “They will not be targeting Exiles.”

“That so?” the One Guy smiled.

“Goddammit, what did you do, Leonard?” I snapped.

“Please stop using that name,” he snarled at me.

“If you tell us what you did,” I said.

“I may have gotten a message out that the Exiles were using their immense talents to see me safely escorted back to Asheville,” the One Guy said.

“Making us possible targets for blood ghast summonings,” Violete said. “You truly are the most duplicitous being I’ve met.”

“Thank you,” The One Guy replied. “Although my goal was simply to keep the lesser players from joining the fight.”

“Lesser players? What are you talking about?” I asked.

“The DEX, the kobolds, and the militias aren’t my only worry,” the One Guy said. He tapped his ear. “The magical grapevine is all abuzz. Anyone with a grudge against me from here to Asheville was going to try to get their shot in. Not anymore. Little guys are backing off.”

I wanted to punch the shit out of him, but I held back. I also held out my hand.

“Give it,” I said.

“I think not,” he replied.

“Give it or get your ear ripped off.”

“That so?”

“Harp? Rip his ear off,” I said over my shoulder.

“You wouldn’t,” the One Guy said, turning his attention to Harper who was quickly passing me with her goblin sickle out. “Harper. Come on now. I didn’t wake it up until all hell broke loose. It’s an asset, not a liability.”

“I’ll ask once,” Harper said, her sickle gripped tight in one hand while she held the other out, open palm up and waiting. “Give me the earworm.”

The One Guy growled low and his whole body tensed. To Harper’s credit, she didn’t respond to what appeared to be the One Guy readying himself for an attack. She kept her palm up and waited. The One Guy finally calmed down, stuck a finger in his left ear, and slowly pulled out a dayglo pink worm. He plopped it into Harper’s palm and she immediately squished it into pulp.

“They eventually start to whisper lies,” Harper said as she reached out and wiped the goo on the One Guy’s shoulder.

“I know the risks,” the One Guy said. “Which is why I keep it asleep ninety percent of the time. That worm cost me a lot of money, Harper. It was grown for my ear canal specifically.”

“I could tell. Otherwise I would have found it before. Good biotech. I’ll want the name of your supplier when this is all done.”

“You honestly think I’ll give that info to you?”

“You honestly think I can’t get it out of you?”

“You can try.”

“I plan on it.”

“Shelve this discussion,” I said. “Listen. You all hear that?”

29.

THE ENGINE SOUNDS had ratcheted up a notch. There was a new layer of noisy machinery that began to drown out the kobolds’ cars.

“Lassa?” I asked over the walkie.

“Hit the deck and hold tight,” Lassa said, his voice calm, but not chill. It was very far from chill. “More pickups have arrived. Here they come!”

The truck swerved and those of us not already down on the floor were sent flying across the truck. We quickly got our shit together and grabbed on to the benches on each side as the truck continued to swerve back and forth. Gunfire, rocket fire, and hex fire exploded around us, lighting up the ports one by one until they disappeared and were replaced with flesh.

Unless we opened the rear doors, we’d lost our view of the road.

I looked at Harper and she met my gaze. Nothing we could do but hold tight and hope Goss and Verber could get us back to Asheville in one piece.

I glanced at the backpacks. The kobolds were there for the parts. That was easy to figure out. But did they know how many parts we had?

“We should dump the parts,” I said.

Everyone looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

“Seriously,” I continued. “All except for one backpack. Keep that to banish any blood ghasts that come for us. Otherwise, we toss the rest at the kobolds and hope they back off. No way we can take on them and more”—

I was interrupted by Lassa exclaiming, “Holy shit! The new militia trucks are going after the kobolds, not us!”

That revelation was punctuated by the sound of several explosions. The truck shuddered from the concussions, swerved hard, went off the road for a couple seconds, which was easy to tell from the way the whole vehicle started bouncing, then got back on the road and sped up. More explosions went off, but they sounded like they were a ways behind us.

“Did we get clear of the fight?” I asked into the walkie.

“No,” Maaike replied. “We’ve got eight kobolds on us and three pickups filled with militia.”

I cocked my head, but didn’t hear any gunfire except for far behind us and getting quieter by the second.

“They’re only following,” Maaike said, answering the question I was thinking. “Pacing us, and each other, but not engaging.”

“Something is up ahead,” I stated.

“We can’t see it yet, but you’re probably right,” Maaike said.

As soon as she said that, the truck began to slow.

“Traffic is jamming up,” Lassa said. “We’re hitting the shoulder. Hold on.”

I would have replied, but I was busy holding on. The truck hit the shoulder hard and everyone in back was jolted almost a foot into the air from wherever they were sitting. Except Violete. She seemed as comfortable and at peace as ever, as if she were riding a cloud.

I gripped the bench I was on and watched her. Her eyes were half-lidded and her lips were moving slowly.

“Harp?” I called quietly.

Harper glanced at me, saw where I was looking, and turned her attention to Violete. She studied the woman for a few seconds then shook her head. I clicked my walkie.

“Lassa? What’s up ahead?” I asked.

“No clue, dude,” Lassa replied. “We’re getting past a few, but it looks like some are trying to turn around. We’ve got headlights coming our way.”

“Stay sharp,” I said. “I think Violete is working a hex or something.”

“Or something? Try asking her what she’s doing, dude,” Lassa replied.

“She seems . . . busy,” I replied.

My conversation drew Elias and Teddy’s attention. They shot glances at Violete, but didn’t seem too worried.

“Anything we should know?” I asked Elias.

“No. We’re fine in here,” he replied.

“Lassa? Elias says nothing to be worried about since we’ll be fine in here,” I relayed.

“Hold on,” Lassa replied with a sigh.

I held on, waiting with the walkie in my hand as I kept studying Violete.

“Okay, Goss knows what’s up,” Lassa said and didn’t sound happy about it. “We’ll be fine.”

Horns honked all around us and I heard the distinct sounds of several collisions.

“Lassa?”

“Yeah, it’s chaos, dude,” Lassa replied.

“Because?”

“The flood. There’s a flood. We’re driving into a flood.”

“A flood?” I exclaimed.

“We float,” Teddy said and gave a high, sharp laugh.

More cars honking and more crunching of metal and fiberglass. People were shouting as we passed them. I could barely make out their words, but quite a few were yelling warnings and quite a few were begging for help.

“Uh . . . hold on,” Lassa said as the truck lurched.

It felt like we’d launched straight into the air. I was weightless for half a second before my ass hit the bench hard. The One Guy laughed then grabbed part of the bench as the front of the truck began to dip. Harper was seated across from me with Elias and Teddy.

Violete was as calm as calm could be, a slight smile playing at her lips as she continued to recite whatever hex was bringing a goddamn flood down on us.

We hit bottom and began to rise. This wasn’t a flood, it was a freaking perfect storm.

My walkie squawked.

“This is nice and all, but it didn’t stop the kobolds,” Maaike called from above. “The militia is river bait, but the kobolds have hexed their cars. They’re skimming the waves and headed straight for us.”

“Can we get the ports back open?” I asked Elias.

“How would that be a good idea?” he replied. “We’re riding a flood.”

“You heard Maaike,” I snapped. “Kobolds in hexed cars are still on us.”

“Patience,” Violete said. “You need to relax, Chase. Let nature take its course.”

“Listen to her,” Elias said and that was the end of talking to him. He turned his head and stared at the back of the truck.

“Okay, whatever,” I said. “Violete? What the hell does let nature take its course mean?”

“You will see,” she replied then closed her eyes the entire way and let out a high-pitched screech that was part nails on a chalkboard and part methed-out dolphin.

I cringed and tucked my shoulders up to my ears. It was one awful sound.

“She would be great at karaoke night,” the One Guy said, getting a laugh from Teddy.

“Is she all right?” I asked Teddy. He only blinked at me. “Right. Cool. I guess we’ll find out.”

“Here we go!” Maaike cried.

“Here we go what?” I replied over the walkie.

“She brought the catfish. She hasn’t done that in decades,” Maaike said.

The sides of the truck shook as something large slapped against it. Slapped. It had a distinct, heavy, wet sound to it.

“How big are the catfish?” I asked as I watched a dent form on the wall next to me. “Maaike?”

“Big,” she said with a laugh. “Oh, this is beautiful.”

“It would be nice to see what is happening,” the One Guy said. “I’m not one to enjoy the radio play by play.”

“Lassa? Ask Goss or Verber how we see out the back of the truck,” Harper said over the walkie.

Without a response, the upper halves of the rear doors turned semi-clear in a sheet of gelatin sort of way. We were protected from the chaos outside by a shimmery membrane.

“Uh . . . thanks,” Harper replied.

I could see why she hesitated with the gratitude.

The flood was impressive. So were the sailing skills of the kobolds. They kept those compact cars skimming from wave peak to wave peak, never letting them get sucked down into the troughs. It was like they were windsurfing with their ugly ass neon vehicles.

But the flood and the kobolds weren’t what we were watching. It was the catfish. Those beasts had to be twenty-five feet long with mouths nearly ten feet from cheek to cheek. They came up out of the waves and snapped down on the kobolds like pond carp being fed by toddlers at every damn botanical garden ever made.

A bright pink car swerved to avoid the snapping jaws of one catfish and ended up being swallowed by a different one. One second it was there then it was swallowed whole and gone forever, the catfish diving down into the flood and lost from sight instantly.

“And you wanted to waste the kobold parts,” the One Guy scoffed.

I think he was taking notes and trying to figure out how to hire the catfish. He was seriously focused on what was happening outside.

“Do you think they can be trained?” he asked.

“I knew it,” I muttered then clicked the walkie. “How much of this are we in for?”

“You’ve got the flood maker back there,” Lassa replied. “Better ask her. I can’t see shit except for more waves and catfish tails slapping around.”

I raised my eyebrows as I looked at Violete. She still had her eyes closed, so I cleared my throat. Twice. Then a third time. One eye opened slightly.

“Yes?” she asked.

“How long are we riding the waves?” I asked as the truck dove down into a trough. We lost sight of the kobold and catfish dance for a minute.

“Be patient,” she replied.

“Yes. Patience. All for it.” I nodded and nodded then shook my head. “Done being patient. How long?”

“We’ll be out shortly,” she said. “Once the threat has been eliminated on this stretch of road.”

“The kobolds?”

“The kobolds. And the namazu.”

“Namazu?”

“The catfish,” Harper said. “Shit.”

“I woke them, but I do not control them,” Violete said. “They will turn their attention to us once the other food source is gone.”

“That makes sense,” I said to her then turned to Harper. “Right, Harp?”

“Maaike?” Harper called over the walkie.

“Prepping now,” Maaike said. “I’ve been through this before.”

“Good.” Harper said. “Lightning?”

“Not with all this water,” Maaike responded. “Going conventional. They’re huge, but they’re only fish.”

“Who we thank for their sacrifice,” Violete said.

“Totally,” I said.

The flood waters lowered quickly and we felt the jolt of the truck going from boat mode to truck mode again. Tires squealed and we swerved hard as the truck tried to get traction. Then we were speeding away in about two feet of water, the flood lost behind us.

“Too easy, right?” I asked no one specific.

“Too easy,” Harper said.

From out of the flood waters came the namazu. On legs. Thick, powerful legs. They looked like the missing link you see in all those evolution posters of the fish crawling up onto land. Except they were over a dozen feet tall with wide open mouths and closing on us.

“Every solution brings its own set of problems,” Violete said.

“Ya think?” I snapped.

30.

“OPEN THE REAR doors!” Elias shouted at Teddy.

Teddy did as he was told and the doors swung open as Elias and Harper took positions at the back of the truck, their weapons up and aiming at the incoming catfish from Hell. Above, fire rained down at the soaking wet pavement, creating a steam cloud that quickly encompassed the finned pursuers.

“Any special trick to killing namazu?” I asked Violete.

“No,” she replied. “The trick is in staying alive long enough to do it.”

“Isn’t this exciting,” the One Guy said. “All of my plotting and planning comes down to whether or not I end up fish food. And there are folks that think the Universe doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

The creatures broke through the steam and came for us. Twelve-foot-high legs carried them on, cracking the pavement with every wet sounding slap of their webbed feet. By the time they were twenty yards away the truck physically shook as chunks of road were sent flying up into the air.

“Don’t stop firing,” Elias said to Harper as he let loose with his shotgun.

“I never do,” Harper replied right before she opened fire as well.

Teddy joined in, as did Maaike and Diane above, and the closest of the namazu became a bloody mess of fish flesh that flew in every direction as its head was shredded to nothing. White fishbone shone in the glaring lights of the interstate; translucent fish scales peppered the ground as the creature continued to lumber towards us, its body driven by its living momentum, none of it aware it was walking dead.

The beast fell and tripped up the next closest namazu, but the four following close behind were able to leap out of the way and keep after us. The kill bought us maybe a few seconds lead, but that was all.

“Last of the RPGs,” Maaike called.

Three rockets, one after the other, flew from the truck and collided with two of the giant catfish. The first impact obliterated the targeted namazu, showering the entire area with fish guts and fish flesh that stank so bad I thought I’d snorted a gallon of Thai fish sauce. The second target took an RPG in the back hip and lost its rear left leg and most of its tail.

But that didn’t slow the creature. The namazu dragged its wounded hind end after us as the rest of its brethren passed it, their fish eyes focused on the truck.

“Maaike,” I called into the walkie. “A fish fry would be nice right about now.”

“The area is too wet,” she replied. “We’ll get blowback. We do not want blowback.”

“She’s right,” Elias said. “We don’t want that.”

His shotgun clicked empty and he threw it back towards me.

“Reload that,” he said as he pulled a large pistol from the back of his jeans and opened fire.

“I have something way better,” I said, ignoring the shotgun.

I staggered my way to the open doors and elbowed Harper.

“Hang on tight,” I said as the Dim began swirling from my palms. “Got an idea.”

“Chase, those things are huge,” Harper said. “The amount of Dim you’ll need to stop them will put you down.”

“Trust me, Harp,” I said. “Keep me from falling out and we’ll be fine.”

She growled, but grabbed the back of my pants as I stepped right to the edge of the truck. I needed the space.

The Dim flowed from my hands easily and it did exactly what I wanted it to. Grid by grid, piece by piece, I assembled the mesh net of Dim so that it lay out behind us as the truck continued racing along the interstate. The namazu were oblivious to what they were running across until it was too late.

“Chase,” Harper snarled as the closest of the giant catfish was almost within biting distance.

I turned, smiled at her, then yanked my hand hard.

The Dim net cinched up around the namazu, trapping the monster catfish into a ball of flapping fins, kicking legs, and gasping mouths. I continued to pull on my end of the Dim and the net tightened, tightened, then began to cut into the creatures.

They wailed in pain and anguish and the cocky smirk I’d had on my face faltered. I looked at the beasts then back at Violete.

“All beings must die,” she said to me.

“She ain’t wrong,” Harper said.

“Right,” I said as I gave one last yank on the Dim net, squishing the namazu into thousands of bloody fish parts. The interstate looked like the kitchen floor of a Florida fish camp. “Us or them.”

The stink reached us and nearly knocked everyone standing to their knees. Then the truck was far enough away that the offending aroma was simply an olfactory memory. A very strong memory.

“Kobolds taken care of and giant fish turned to paste,” I said as I stumbled to a bench and sat down. “What’s next?”

“You can’t but help tempting fate, can you, Chase?” the One Guy asked. “You know there is power in words, right?”

“Fuck you,” I replied. “How’s that for power in words?”

“Cute.”

“He’s right,” Harper said and slumped down next to me as she pulled her walkie from her belt. “Lassa?”

“Why do I have to be the one to break the bad news?” he asked as the truck started to slow.

“Because we all have our burdens to bear,” Harper replied. “What’s up?”

“Roadblock,” he said.

“One we can get around?” I asked, adding my voice to the walkie conversation.

“Yes, Chase, one we can get around. That’s why we’re slowing down,” the One Guy said.

“Want me to punch him?” Harper asked. “I haven’t punched him in a while.”

I waved her off and focused on the walkie. “Lassa? Talk to us.”

“DEX,” he replied. “Probably two dozen cruisers, at least as many SUVs, four semis hauling flatbeds with some serious firepower locked down and aimed at us. And a giant.”

“A giant? Like a fe fi fo fum giant?” I asked.

“Exactly like that. Maybe thirty feet tall and sitting on the back of a huge dump truck, swinging his legs like he’s at the lake and sitting on a dock. Kind of handsome in that craggy way that giants have.”

I stared out the back of the truck as the vehicle came to a halt. A lot of destruction in our wake, but no chaos coming for us.

“We could go back,” Harper said, reading my mind. “But they’ve probably set up back there too. This whole stretch will have to be locked down and sanitized for general consumption. The DEX’s pressroom is working on the fake disaster announcement right now.”

“Yep,” I said, my eyes still locked on the mess of pavement behind us.

We’d been fighting so long that I couldn’t see another car from where we were to the dark horizon. Even the other side of the interstate was clear.

“Someone is walking this way,” Lassa called over the walkie. “What’s the call, dude?”

“Is it Ducheré?” I asked.

“Nope. Some guy. He stopped walking and is waiting about thirty yards away,” Lassa said.

“I’m on it,” I said and tucked my walkie away as I stood up and walked to the back of the truck.

“Coming with,” Harper said.

“I goddamn hope so,” I said. I looked at Elias and Teddy. “Watch the One Guy. He makes a move, put something deadly in his head. I don’t care what it is as long as it drops him.”

“Got it,” Elias said. Teddy only grinned.

I hopped out of the truck and swung around towards the front. Harper was right by me the whole way.

“Get me his name,” Goss said from the open driver’s window as we passed by.

“Good call,” Harper said to him.

“Why is that a good call?” I asked as we walked out in front of the truck and towards the waiting man.

“You’ll see,” Harper said. I noticed her hand going to her walkie and her thumb depressing the transmit button.

“Okay,” I said just before reaching the man.

“Special Agent Lonnie Bowman,” the man said and extended his hand. Dressed in a black suit, he was in his mid-thirties, close-cropped blonde hair with his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. At night. What a douche.

I took the offered hand and shook then glanced past him at the considerable roadblock.

“Overcompensating for something, Lonnie?” I asked.

“Unlike my colleague Special Agent Ducheré, I don’t leave anything up to chance,” Bowman replied. “She thought she could play the long game and lure you in. I’m going the direct route.”

Okay. This guy had to be from the other faction. Maybe I could bargain with him.

“I don’t think either you or Ducheré know exactly what’s going on,” I said. “But I’ll tell you what. Move your little party here and I’ll fill you in.”

“You mean the One Guy playing all sides and expecting to get away with it?” Bowman laughed. “We know. The entire department knows. He’s the One Guy. We expected nothing less.”

“No, I get that, but I don’t think you quite get how good he is at playing all sides,” I said. “Seriously. You’re in the dark on this one.”

“I doubt it. Listen, Chase. May I call you Chase?”

“You already have, Einstein.”

“Yes, Chase, listen. I can offer you protection for eternity. That’s not hyperbolic exaggeration.”

“Hyperbole is exaggeration by definition,” Harper said. “Get to the point, crewcut.”

“Give us the Stolen, the One Guy, and these . . . others, and we let you walk away,” Bowman said. “You can continue doing business in Asheville as you have been and we’ll forget all about your role in this nightmare mess. You do realize we have hundreds and hundreds of people to hex memories from, yes? You shit the bed, Chase. You shit it bad.”

“Huh. Yeah, well, okay. That’s your offer?”

“That’s my offer. I’ll give you to the count of ten to decide what you are going to do.”

“You actually think I’ll let you take Harper?”

“Nine.”

“Or that I’ll walk away from my right to kick some One Guy ass?”

“Eight.”

“Or that I’ll let you lock up the people that helped me get this far?”

“Seven.”

“Do you have any idea what my week has been like?”

“Six.”

“You can stop counting.”

“Five.”

“God, you’re dick. I’ve got an answer for you.”

“Four . . . What’s your answer?”

I looked at Harper. “Show me.”

Harper smiled and nodded. “Goss?”

“Lonnie Bowman!” Goss’s voice called from the truck.

“Wha”—

That’s all the DEX agent could utter before he dropped to the ground. He crumpled onto himself and blood began pouring from every orifice. In less than two seconds he was a deflated husk of a man sitting in a pool of his own fluids.

“Oh. Wow,” I said.

“Never let a dullahan hear your name,” Harper said.

“Uh, they know all of our names,” I said.

“Then we should probably not piss them off,” Harper replied.

We stood there and faced the roadblock. Bowman’s death had happened so fast that no one seemed quite aware of what to do. That was bad prep, training, and a bad chain of command right there.

Then the roadblock opened fire.

I was expecting the attack and had already thrown up a thick wall of Dim in front of Harper and myself. Then we ran our asses off back to the truck.

“Now what?” Lassa yelled as we sprinted past the cab.

I would have answered, but that’s when the eight blood ghasts came screeching down the road from the direction of the DEX armada. Yikes.

I glanced back and saw that the blood ghasts weren’t being sent by the DEX, but coming out of the DEX agents and personnel.

Once again, the question of the goddamn century was: who was summoning the nasty bastards?

31.

HARPER SWUNG UP into the back of the truck, spun about, grabbed my hand, and yanked me in, then slammed the doors closed as the blood ghasts came for us.

“What the hell?” Maaike cried from up top right before her words were cut off by automatic gunfire.

But the gunfire from up top, and the blood ghasts slamming into the back of the truck, weren’t the main problem.

“I couldn’t trust you to do the right thing, Chase,” the One Guy said as he stood over the bodies of Elias and Teddy, their heads gripped in each hand.

“Jesus Christ, Leonard, did you tear their heads off?” I gasped and studied the carnage. “Fuck me. You did.”

Violete was down and unconscious, but she looked like she was in one piece at least.

“You screwed up,” Harper said, yanking her Magnum free from her belt.

“That so?” the One Guy replied as he let the heads drop. Before they hit the floor, he had two pistols drawn and aimed right at us. “You shoot, I shoot. Chase dies for sure.”

Harper didn’t glance in my direction, but I could feel her body shift an inch towards me.

“Pal, you picked a shitty time to make your move,” I said, nodding my head at the doors behind us. “There be blood ghasts.”

“Yes. There be.”

“You’ve been whining about blood ghasts coming to kill you for the past couple of days. Remember that part of all this?”

“I do.”

“Blood ghasts are bad, Leonard. We should tackle those then get back to resolving whatever this shit is.”

“It’s resolved. The blood ghasts aren’t coming for me.”

“Say what now?”

“I’m sure there may be some coming for me at some point in the future, but not these, not now.”

I was about to argue then I noticed the deflated backpacks strewn about the floor. There was one still full, but the others were unzipped and obviously empty. And the full one hung over the One Guy’s shoulder like he was a teenager heading to first period.

“Leonard? What did you do?” I asked.

The lies were connecting, the truth was so close I could smell it.

“I made a move,” he said. “One you can’t counter unless you chop up our little Stolen friend here.”

The walls began to bulge in places as the gunfire continued up top. Not only up top, but everywhere outside. It sounded like Lassa, Goss, and Verber were waging war in the cab. The DEX was certainly fighting it out with the blood ghasts too as I heard their giant roar loud enough to shake my molars.

“What’s the angle, Leonard?” I asked. “How do you expect to get out of here in one piece?”

“By walking out,” he said. “The always delightful Harper will lower her hand cannon and the two of you will kindly get the fuck out of my way. I promise not to shoot either of you. I’m leaving you for the blood ghasts.”

“Jesus, was this the plan all along?”

“Of course, Chase. Well, one of my many plans. I had contingencies in place depending on how things worked out. And every contingency was designed to get my ass away from the DEX before someone did something stupid like try to lock me away in a dark room in some black site offshore. Don’t need that, thank you very much.”

“We were going to go back to Asheville, negotiate, and work out a compromise,” I snarled, my eyes on the pistols. “You weren’t going to a black site.”

“Do you know who was going to mediate this little compromise of yours?” he asked, his eyes flicking towards the back where Violete lay still and prone. Then he tapped his ear. Where the earworm had been. “I decided to find out for myself. Dragons, Chase. The Mars Hill dragons. They were going to decide my fate.”

“Dragons are always neutral,” Harper said. “They wouldn’t have screwed you. Duplicity is not in their nature. Unlike you.”

“Oh, ouch, that hurt,” the One Guy snickered. “Not really. And, yes, Harper, you are correct. Dragons are very neutral. Unless they have a beef with someone. I’ve covered all the angles. As usual.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. “What the hell did you do to the Mars Hill dragons? Why would they have a beef with you?”

“The reason is rather insignificant and wouldn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things, but then all of this came up.” He waved one pistol at the truck and Harper twitched. The pistol was instantly back in place and aimed for her midsection. “No. Don’t even. What you are going to do is put that Magnum away and open the doors behind you. Then I slip out and you two get to party with some blood ghasts.”

“They’ll hunt you.” I glared at him. “We’ll hunt you.”

“Yes, the DEX, or some part of it, will come for me. Militias will try to come for me. Kobolds will try to come for me. So many factions all out to take my hide. You? Not so much, Chase. You’ll be splattered across Interstate 81. That’s just how things are going to end up for you. Too bad. That Dim trick of yours is pretty darn neato.”

“I’ll live, pal. My friends will live. We’ll find you.”

“Keep that spirit alive, Chase.”

He took a step forward with both pistols aimed for Harper. The son of bitch didn’t see me as a threat at all.

“Gun down, Harper,” he said.

“No,” I said as I brought up a shield of Dim and thrust it between us.

His guns fired, Harper’s gun fired, the bullets hit black and tumbled to the floor of the truck. The One Guy didn’t even hesitate. He leapt forward and shoved the Dim shield into Harper, knocking us both out of the way so he could grab the door and shove it open.

I banished the Dim shield and created a rope that I tried to lasso around him, but he was gone. Even Harper couldn’t get a shot off in time before he was out of the truck and lost from sight.

“Chase,” Harper snarled as a nightmarish face popped up into view.

A blood ghast was crawling its way into the back of the truck, nasty claws digging grooves into the floor as it grinned its death grin in our direction.

“Here goes nothing,” I said and threw together a Dim box as the blood ghast came at us.

The monster was swallowed up by black smoke and I closed the lid fast. I didn’t bother taking a key. Snap of my fingers and the box was sent into the Dim. What the results of that would be, I had no idea, but there was one less blood ghast haunting I-81.

Violete moaned and shifted behind us.

“Check on her,” I said as I scooted my ass to the edge of the truck and hopped outside.

“I stay with you,” Harper said.

“No,” I insisted. “We need the Exiles to”—

“I’m fine,” Violete whispered as her eyes fluttered open.

“You don’t look fine,” I said.

“I live and that is what matters,” she replied in a quiet, pained voice. “You two do what needs doing. Save the others outside. They are left unprotected.”

She wasn’t kidding about that. Blood ghasts were flying everywhere and so were the bullets. Panicked and pained screams were pretty goddamn plentiful too.

“Stay in here,” I said to Violete as Harper dropped down next to me.

“I have no desire to leave,” she said and closed her eyes.

I shut and latched the door then hit the ground as Harper shoved me to the pavement, her Magnum erupting where my head had been a second before. The blood ghast she shot exploded everywhere, but it quickly began to reassemble. I let it become solid then sent it on a one way vacation to the Dim.

“Two down,” I said.

“Don’t get cocky,” Harper said.

I stared at the insanity that surrounded us.

“Yeah, not gonna happen, Harp. I don’t think I could manage cocky right now if I wanted to.”

She blasted a blood ghast then pulled her goblin sickle and hacked it into manageable bits so we could get past it and throw ourselves to the ground to dodge the next one. The monsters were everywhere. Every-goddamn-where.

Harper rolled onto her back and sliced a blood ghast from stem to stern. Ectoplasmic guts fell upon her, but she brushed them off and kicked up onto her feet. The sickle slashed again and again and she dropped two more.

I did what I had to do and sent those three packing. They were sentenced to hard time in the Dim with no chance of parole. Or I hoped. Still no goddamn clue as to what was going to happen if those blood ghasts managed to fight their way out of their boxes. I may truly have become the defiler of dimensions.

“Lawter!” Maaike shouted from on top of the truck. A truck that was changing back into the flesh wagon it truly was. “Get your Dim ass up front and help out!”

“I thought I was helping!” I shouted at her.

“Get out front and you’ll see,” she replied then unleashed a full magazine of heavy caliber rounds on a blood ghast that dropped straight down at her from the sky.

Maaike was quite the badass if she was holding her own by blowing blood ghasts away again and again despite their ability to reassemble. Quitting wasn’t in a valkyrie’s vocabulary.

Diane threw herself from the top of the truck and wrapped her arms and legs around a blood ghast that went flying by. She sank her fangs into the monster’s neck and it shrieked louder than I’d heard any of them do before.

“What the fuck?” Harper muttered as the blood ghast began to shrivel under Diane then collapsed in on itself, sending the vampire falling to the pavement.

Diane picked herself up, brushed off her t-shirt and jeans, gave us a bloody smile, then went sprinting after another blood ghast as it streaked past her.

“Go!” Maaike yelled at us and pointed towards the DEX roadblock.

Two more blood ghasts came at us. One from the left, one from the right. I made a large Dim box, threw it up into the air, then fell to my knees as the blood ghasts collided with each other and fell into the box. Lid closed and fingers snapped, the box was gone. A two for one deal.

Lassa jumped out of the cab, his body coated in blood, and stood there firing his shotgun until it clicked empty. Then he swung it into the face of a blood ghast that came at him from the front of the truck. The blood ghast was sent flying back a few yards, but it regrouped and tried again. Too bad for the beast, I’d walked up next to Lassa and was ready.

“Nice, dude,” Lassa said as I banished that blood ghast to Dim purgatory.

I glanced in the cab and wished I hadn’t. Goss was everywhere. I mean everywhere. Verber was alive, but he was clutching a nasty looking wound in his left side. He gave me a wink then his head disappeared and I was staring at a rotten stump of a neck. The truck fully turned into the dullahans’ flesh wagon. The illusion was gone. Verber obviously couldn’t keep it together by himself.

“I’ll live,” Verber said. No head, no mouth, but the words still reached my ears. “Help me out, will ya?”

Lassa reached in and took the guy’s hand. It was all dried skin and gnarled fingers. Bones stuck out of flesh and his knuckles looked like they’d come apart at any second. But he must have had some strength because Lassa winced at the man’s grip.

“Thanks,” Verber said as he steadied himself then turned towards the rear of the wagon. “Time to have a chat with the One Guy. Tell me his name so I may end this all.”

“He’s gone,” I said. “He’s the one that called the blood ghasts down on us. Then he bailed. Elias and Teddy are dead.”

Headlessly, he gasped. “Violete?”

“She’s hurt, but alive,” Harper said. “And for future reference the One Guy’s name is Leonard Maguire.”

“Thank you, miss,” Verber said and gave a quick bow.

A blood ghast flew at him and he punched it in the face, dropping it to the pavement with one blow. It started to struggle and get back up, but I sent it off to an eternity of nothing.

“That will have consequences,” Verber said as he watched me banish the Dim box.

“Probably. Not much I can do about that now,” I replied.

“This is true. I will attend to Violete. You do what you must.”

“Which is?” I asked.

“Chase?” Lassa said.

I turned to him and he was facing the roadblock. I followed his gaze and swallowed hard.

“Goddamn,” I said as I stared at the shit that was in front of us.

“We have to get through that before we can get home,” Lassa said.

“In what?” Harper asked, nodding at the flesh wagon. “Can’t really roll up in this thing.”

“Phone me,” Lassa said.

“We tossed all the phones,” I said.

“Harp?” Lassa said, ignoring me.

Harper sighed and reached into her left boot. She pulled out an ancient looking flip phone and tossed it to him.

“We’ll have a troll here in less than an hour,” Lassa said as he flattened himself against the cab of the flesh wagon. “You two feel free to get started without me.”

“Thanks, pal,” I said. “And tell the Teamsters we’ll pay double if they bring something armored against blood ghasts.”

“Yeah, that’s way out of our budget,” Lassa said. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

Harper patted me on the shoulder and we walked away from Lassa, both of us headed into Hell.

32.

THE BLOOD GHASTS had torn through the ranks of the DEX agents and their allies with such brutal efficiency that Harper and I were walking through inch deep gore by the time we got within a few feet of the roadblock. The blood filled the road and the flesh chunks were piled up all over the place like snowdrifts made of people. Shredded people.

That wasn’t the Hell part. The Hell part was the nightmares created by mixing the hex protections the DEX folks had put up with mojo from the blood ghasts. We saw a lot of hybrid nightmares moving about, attacking those not yet murdered by blood ghasts. I’d have called them zombies, but that would have been disrespectful to Sharon and her kind. And they weren’t exactly shambling, either.

“Wraiths,” Harper said, giving a name to what I was seeing. “The DEX agents have become corporeal wraiths.”

“Corporeal? Well, shit, that ain’t good,” I said.

“Except it means we can punch them. To death.”

“Fair enough.”

Several of the undead creatures whipped their heads around as soon as the words left my mouth.

“They’ll be fast,” Harper said.

“I can see that.”

“And strong.”

“Got that part too.”

“Don’t let them bite or cut you.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“I mean it, Chase. Not sure what will happen. These wraiths aren’t exactly alive or dead or ghosts or what.”

“They’re ugly, that’s what,” I said as I created two long, sharp Dim blades and held them out in a warding gesture like a cross. Harper raised an eyebrow. “Worth a try.”

The wraiths came at us.

I threw one of the blades and impaled the closest one then created a replacement blade and slashed hard and fast at the two that shoved past their fallen comrade. Before I could take out another wraith, Harper had stepped in front of me and dispatched the two with her goblin sickle.

The sound the wraiths made was beyond anything I’d ever heard. I wasn’t even sure I actually heard it with my ears. The death wails they let loose vibrated up my legs and plucked my bones like guitar strings.

“Goddamn,” I gasped.

“Keep on your feet,” Harper said.

I nodded and followed her as she waded through the gore and went after two more wraiths. There was a sickening sucking sound from my right and I looked over to see three wraiths crawling up out of the bloody muck and piled DEX agent parts.

My first swing missed and the closest wraith reached for me, her former fingers now long, sharp claws. Similar to a blood ghast’s claws, but with more human, fingernaily attributes. I side-stepped her and brought my blade up, taking her hands off at the wrists. More bone shaking wails.

The other two wraiths hesitated in their attack. They eyed me and split up, one going left, the other going right, while their handless friend fell to her knees and continued to shriek at me.

“Shut up,” I said and took care of the shrieking with a hard swing to her neck.

Her friends leapt at me from both sides and I managed to hack one arm off before they collided with my ribs. I hit the ground in a sploosh of bloody gunk and tried to get my arms up, but they were pinned beneath the wraiths.

One lifted his head, opening his mouth to show me his newly impressive dental work. Six inch fangs that dripped with black saliva. He brought his head down at my neck, but didn’t make it more than an inch before the head was no longer there. Then I heard the rifle shot.

My walkie squawked. I’d forgotten I still had it on me.

“Shove up, Lawter!” Maaike shouted over the walkie.

I wriggled my arms free and grabbed the second wraith, who was about to relieve me of my shoulder meat, and shoved her head up as far as I could. Then I closed my eyes as that head went goodbye.

“Thanks,” I said as I kicked free of the corpses and got up onto shaky legs.

Working the Dim was taking its toll. Maaike’s meals were about worn off and I could feel the fatigue trying to take me down. The hunger hit almost as hard as the wraiths. Which was a problem since there were still blood ghasts to deal with on top of the newly made undead hybrid sons of bitches.

One came for me and I managed to wrap the blood ghast in Dim and send it packing. The space between dimensions was filling up fast with nasties. But I couldn’t think about that at the moment. Not with three more blood ghasts swooping down from directly above.

Three rifle shots and the blood ghasts went swirling off to the side, giving me time to work up one big box. I snapped the Dim trap closed once they regrouped and came in for a second attack. But before I could send the box away, the ground shook so hard that I was knocked back down, my shaky legs too wobbly to handle the concussions that rumbled up from the pavement.

The giant.

The huge being raged across the highway, swinging its arms wildly to ward off the blood ghasts that were attacking from above, and kicking its legs out to stop the wraiths that were attacking from below.

“Harp!” I called as I shoved back up and started throwing Dim left and right to try to get the giant free from the monsters that swarmed it. “Harper!”

“I see it!” Harper shouted from across the road.

I risked a glance her way and could see she was slightly occupied. Down on one knee, she swiped and slashed with her goblin sickle, dispatching DEX wraiths and blood ghasts as fast as she could. The wraiths weren’t an issue, they dropped like flies under her constant attacks. The blood ghasts weren’t so cooperative.

I switched the direction of my Dim throws to the blood ghasts that continuously regrouped and went for her. I wrapped them fast and banished them with hand throws and finger snaps that didn’t seem to end until the last blood ghast was off her back. Literally and figuratively.

“Go help it,” Harper snarled as the giant roared in pain.

“Not an it!” the massive being responded, stomping its way over to us, a line of dead wraiths left in his wake and a still swirling attack of blood ghasts hovering around his head. “Kasper.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Duck.”

The creature glared down at me then fell to his knees, nearly knocking me off my feet.

I threw as much Dim as I could up at the blood ghasts. Three of the five were wrapped and shipped off to the Dim. Two managed to dodge my throws and came at me so fast that I couldn’t even get my hands up before they were on me.

The blood ghasts froze in mid air then were yanked backwards as the giant grabbed them by their shit-brown swirly tails. He slammed both into each other then threw them onto the ground where he proceeded to stomp them over and over until they looked like stains on the pavement.

That made banishing them slightly difficult, hard to separate the blood ghasts from the highway, so I ended up sending away good chunks of road with them, creating some seriously hazardous potholes. I took a couple deep breaths then steeled myself for the rest of the fight.

“Good job,” Harper said as she staggered over to me, a nasty gash splitting her shirt across her ribs, right under her boobs.

“Nearly got a cheap mast”—I started to say. The punch to my shoulder stopped me.

“Really, Chase? Don’t be a prick,” she responded, punching me in the shoulder again. And much, much harder. “Prick.”

“Thank you,” Kasper said as he squashed the last couple of wraiths. He looked pained as he did it, but there wasn’t any hesitation. Former colleagues of his or not, they needed to go. “You should leave before the cleaning crew arrives.”

“I assume they clean minds as well as blood stains,” I said.

“They clean souls too,” Kasper said. “Go. Now. I will cover for you.”

His voice was like a waterfall crashing down on million-year-old boulders. It wasn’t exactly painful, but I didn’t want him narrating audiobooks anytime soon.

“Why?” Harper asked him as she flicked goo from her sickle, wiped it on her pants, then slid it into its holster. She withdrew the Magnum and held that next to her thigh as she stared up at the bloodied giant. “Your bosses won’t like it that you let us get away.”

“Let you?” Kasper laughed. He bent close, showing us his bare arms. They were covered in gashes, bites, and claw marks. “I know what you and your friends can do. That is why the DEX brought me along. I’m in no shape to fight you.”

“You two all right?” Maaike asked over the walkie.

I unclipped it from my waist and pressed the button, my eyes never leaving Kasper.

“We’re good,” I said. “Having a nice chat with a big friendly giant.”

“Don’t BFG me, hoss,” Kasper said. “Get out of here.”

“We’re being given the all-clear to bail,” I said, still staring at the giant. “Coming back to you.”

“I got him covered,” Maaike said.

“I’m letting you go,” Kasper said. “No need to cover shit, valkyrie.”

“He says”—

“I can hear him from here,” Maaike interrupted.

“Come on,” Harper said. “Let’s do as the nice giant says.”

“The DEX will come for you,” Kasper said. “But you should be able to make it home before they catch up. You’ll have home-field advantage.”

“Thanks,” I said as I and Harper steadily backed away from the giant.

Once out of arm’s reach, in case he changed his mind, we turned and hurried to the flesh wagon. Verber was sitting in the front and he gave us a nod.

“Need me to kill him?” he asked. “I heard his name. I speak it and he’s done for.”

“No. He’s chill,” I said. “But thanks.”

Diane was off to the side of the road, puking her guts out. Black blood spewed from her like a firehose as Lassa rubbed her back. He gave us a yikes look then pointed at the road behind the flesh wagon.

“That’s our ride,” he said, taking a quick step back to keep a particularly gnarly splash from getting on him.

I peered at the headlights hurrying our way and squinted.

“That going to be big enough for all of us?” I asked.

“We’re not going with,” Maaike said from up top, rifle over her shoulder. “We’re going back to Roanoke. From there? Who fucking knows.”

“Violete?” I asked.

“Here,” Violete said, making me jump as she sat up from the front of the wagon. She must have been lying down, resting across Verber’s lap. “We’ll get by. Roanoke is home. We’ll persevere.”

“The DEX will”—

“I am aware of what the DEX will do,” Violete interrupted. “They have tried before, in all their incarnations. We’ll persevere.”

She put extra emphasis on the last word, telling me that the subject was closed.

Our ride drew closer then came to a stop. It looked like a nice sedan, but hard to tell with the glare of the headlights blocking our view. The driver’s door opened and a good-sized troll got out.

“Lassa?” the troll called.

“Here,” Lassa said and gave the back of Diane’s head a quick kiss then looked up at Maaike. “You’ll be fine getting back? I can call another troll.”

“We’ll have the wagon fixed up in seconds,” Maaike said. “Right, Verber?”

“I’m already working on it,” Verber said.

I stared at the flesh wagon, but couldn’t see a difference. I met Maaike’s eyes and she nodded.

“Trust us. It’ll be ready for travel as soon as you’re gone,” she said.

“We ain’t got all night,” the troll driver called.

“Come on,” Lassa said, patting me on the back as he hurried past. “We gotta go, dude.”

“I owe you,” I said to Violete. “We owe you.”

“Yes, Chase Lawter, you do,” she responded as Harper pulled me towards the waiting vehicle. “We will collect.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I said.

I gave Maaike one last nod then we were next to the sedan, a black Mercedes, and the troll was opening doors and hurrying us in.

33.

“ASHEVILLE IS ONLY about thirty minutes away,” the troll driver said as the sun came up over the horizon. The bullet and hex-proof glass warped the light slightly, but it was still a nice sight as the orange dawn crested the mountain tops that streamed by as we raced along Interstate 26. “But I’ve been instructed to drop you somewhere else.”

“What?” Lassa snapped, beating the rest of us to the question. He was sitting in the passenger’s seat while Harper and I were in the back. “Dude, not cool. You’re supposed to drop us at our office.”

“I know, I know,” the troll said. He held up his phone to show a text message. “My boss got a call from the DEX. Drop you at this location or our chapter gets into some serious tax issues. Stupid government. Always gotta push the little guys around.”

“How much not to drop us off at that location?” I asked. I was so exhausted I could barely keep my head from lolling back against the seat. But if I let that happen then it would be goodnight, Chase. “We’ll make it worth your while.”

“No, you won’t,” the troll said. “I got specific instructions not to take any deals. They’re waiting.”

“Shit,” I said.

“Not cool,” Lassa repeated. “Way not cool. We’re gonna have some serious problems over this. Total breach of contract, dude.”

“Extenuating circumstances,” the troll replied. “My boss will make it right.” He paused. “If you live. Never know with the DEX . . . .”

“Great,” I said.

My stomach rumbled then clenched with hunger. The cramps were getting worse and worse and it was hard to focus. I turned to Harper and she was busy looking out her window at the landscape rolling by.

“Thoughts?” I asked. “We’re being taken to the belly of the beast.”

“We’ll be fine,” she said and looked over at me. She was smiling. Then she looked up at the driver. “That address you dropping us at in Mars Hill?”

“Yeah,” the troll replied. “Some diner.”

Harper looked at me again and the smile widened.

“Mediation, remember?”

“Mediation for what?” Lassa asked. “The One Guy is gone. We royally screwed the Exiles. Half the DEX was either killed by blood ghasts or by us.”

“They were killed by blood ghasts,” I said. “We killed what they turned into, pal.”

“Not the point, dude,” Lassa replied. “The point is we left a trail of bodies and chaos on an interstate for all the country to see. Redneck militias. Kobold car gangs. Those damn catfish. A flood, dude. There was a flood.”

“Mediation was set up before all that,” Harper said. “Dragons keep their appointments and the DEX knows better than to cancel with dragons. We go, we sit, we listen, we wait for our fate to be decided. It’ll be fast and fair.”

“Dragons,” Lassa said and shook his head. “Not cool, dudes. They take a sniff and don’t like us and we’re burnt bacon. Crispy critters served on toast.”

“Stop talking about food,” I groaned as my stomach growled so loud that the troll driver looked over his shoulder at me.

“You ain’t gonna be sick in my car, are ya?” he asked.

“Nothing in my belly to puke up, pal,” I replied.

“You open the door and throw up on the road if ya gotta,” he said and focused back on driving.

He took the next exit and we wound our way up into the small downtown of Mars Hill. As soon as he found the diner he brought the car to a halt and gave us all an apologetic look. He held up his phone again.

“Boss says no charge,” the troll driver announced like he was doing us a favor. “But ya gotta get out now. Like now. I can’t wait for ya.”

“Thanks, dude,” Lassa said in a tone that was far from thankful. The troll winced. Having Lassa pissed at you cuts right to the heart. “This isn’t over, though.”

“Give me a second,” Harper said as she got out of the car. “Let me scope the area.”

I was in no hurry. It was gonna take a lot of effort to make my legs move.

“We’re good,” she said as she ducked her head back into the car. “You need help?”

“I got this,” I said as I used sheer willpower to open my door and climb out without falling flat on my face. I stood for a second then looked up and down the street. “Lots of SUVs with tinted windows. Must be a douche convention.”

The door to the diner, which was like every other small town diner in the country, opened and a sunglasses wearing, faceless DEX drone pointed at us and nodded.

“That our invitation? Thanks, pal,” I said as I walked on wobbly legs into the diner with Lassa then Harper right behind.

I heard the squeal of tires and guessed that the troll was outta there. Didn’t blame him. The DEX drone closed the door behind us and blocked our way out by doing that asshole thing all douche drones do. He stood in front of the door with his hands crossed in front of him. Idiot. Like Harper couldn’t Swiss cheese his ass if she wanted to.

“Mr. Lawter,” Ducheré called from the end of a long table that had been set up in the center of the diner. “Come have a seat.”

I would have argued with her, made some smart ass comment, but the table also happened to be loaded with platter after platter of breakfast foods. Scrambled eggs, fried eggs, poached eggs. Bacon, sausage links, sausage patties, country ham. Biscuits, toast, pancakes, waffles. Donuts and muffins. Fresh fruit and pitchers of orange juice. Carafes of coffee at each place setting. No staff was around, so they must have cooked, served and bailed. I couldn’t blame them.

“Who we got here?” I asked, trying to sound cool while keeping myself from drooling down the front of my gore-encrusted shirt. “Care to make introductions?”

“Of course,” Ducheré said.

She was seated at the end of the table, but not the head. At the head was a man dressed in an expensive suit. He had possibly the whitest skin I’d ever seen in my life. It was like white crayon white.

“This is Director Ansel Graille,” Ducheré said without getting up from her seat to the white man’s right. “He runs the DEX.”

“Which one?” I asked. “You gotta favorite faction . . . Graille, is it?”

The man only stared at me with crystal blue eyes. “Sit, Mr. Lawter.”

I took a seat in the chair at the opposite end of the table. He was the head of that side, I was the head of this side. Lassa sat to my left and Harper took the seat at my right.

Between us and the DEX dicks were six elderly folks. Three men and three women. Indiscriminate skin color, eye color, any color, really. The more I looked at them the harder they were to describe.

Dragons.

The reality was dragons were rarely in their massive, scaly lizard forms. There was an old children’s book that came to mind as I tried to focus on facial details but failed. Everyone Knows What A Dragon Looks Like, was the title of the book. The dragon in that was depicted as a kindly, old gentleman that was seeking shelter and food for the night, but was rejected by every villager except for a young boy that swept the streets for a bowl of rice each day. Long story short, the dragon helped the boy because of his kindness.

It was a sweet story. But it was a story and I had no illusions that the dragons seated on either side of the food-laden table were going to smile benevolently at us and give us all kind words of wisdom.

“Edgar will speak for the dragons,” Ducheré said.

“Yes, thank you, Alexandrine,” one of the old men said as he stood and nodded at each end of the table, making eye contact with me for a good few seconds before he addressed the others.

If I concentrated, I could see he had thinning white hair combed carefully over a suntanned scalp. He was pudgy, but not fat, and his hands looked powerful as vices. But that was all he allowed me to focus on before his features started to blur again.

“There is a crisis in this dimension,” Edgar said. “Those that want the truth revealed are fighting those that do not. Many of you work with and for each other. Many work outside the law and system. Many of those systems and laws are none you have an awareness of, even the DEX.”

“We will discuss those details later,” Graille said.

“I think not. They are laws and systems not for you,” Edgar replied. “And do not ask. We are not here for that. What we are here for is to broker a solution to the conflict at hand. How can Black Box Inc. continue to do the work it needs to do while a fractured DEX struggles with its own identity? That is the question.”

“No, I’m sorry, but that is not the question,” Ducheré snapped. “The question is what do we do with Black Box Inc. after their treasonous betrayal. They colluded with the One Guy and look what happened as a result. He is lost in the wind and several miles of public interstate were turned into a war zone that will take us weeks to clean up.”

“Lady, you don’t know the half of what went down,” I said. I stared at the food and shook my head. “I’m sorry, but is this shit for eating or am I being tortured?”

“Please, eat,” one of the other dragons said. She was old, but there were streaks of bright red hair shot throughout the stark white locks that were braided behind her head. That was all I could see of her. “The defiler of dimensions must keep his strength up.”

“Special Agent Ducheré has expressed our position,” Graille said. “Perhaps Mr. Lawter can express his people’s?”

I had already started piling a plate with food, and didn’t stop as Graille glared down the table at me.

“Our position is that the One Guy played us, the DEX played us, some good folks got hurt because of all that, and all we want to do is go home, get cleaned up, and forget all this crap happened so we can run our business,” I said. I shoved a fistful of bacon into my mouth then chewed for a long time before swallowing. “Lassa? Harp? Am I right?”

“You ain’t wrong, dude,” Lassa said.

“Sounds about right,” Harper said, she plucked a donut from a platter and shoved it into her mouth.

“I ain’t wrong and I sound about right,” I said. “That’s our position.”

“Yes, well, that isn’t much of a position,” Edgar said. “But I understand where you are coming from. Unfortunately, reality must intercede and we all have to face the facts of what has happened over the course of the past couple of days.”

He bowed his head then snapped his fingers.

Two older men came from the diner’s kitchen door with something gripped between them.

“Holy shit,” Lassa whispered.

The two men held a blood ghast. They actually were gripping a blood ghast and keeping it controlled. It struggled and hissed and looked all around like it wanted to murder everyone and everything. But it wasn’t going anywhere soon.

Edgar chuckled at the shocked looks on all of our faces. I almost laughed too as I saw Ducheré and Graille squirm in their seats.

“Eight,” Harper whispered to me.

“What?” I whispered back around a mouthful of pancakes.

“We thought there were only six dragons in Mars Hill. Those are two more.”

“Oh. Shit.”

The men brought the blood ghast to the edge of the table closest to the DEX folks. To their credit, they didn’t flee. They even got their squirming under control once it was apparent the blood ghast could not get free.

“The only persons not complicit in the summoning of these abominations are the members of Black Box Inc.,” Edgar continued. “They have been caught in the middle of a battle that began long before the portals in the vortex points opened wide. I will suggest they are allowed to go about their way and business without any governmental repercussions.”

“I think not,” Graille said. A little flush had risen in his cheeks at Edgar’s suggestion. He took a long, slow breath then grinned down the table at me. “Laws are laws and Mr. Lawter’s crew has broken many on their flight to and from DC. I’m afraid that those I answer to will not allow either him or his cohorts to get off without consequences.”

“I did not say there wouldn’t be consequences,” Edgar countered. “There will be. Mr. Lawter is the defiler of dimensions and he has done something that should not have been done. There will be a reckoning for his actions. I suggested that his company not be penalized by the government. What the Universe brings down on him and his friends is out of all of our control, Mr. Graille. I suggest we get out of the way of that.”

“Still not acceptable,” Graille said. “I’m sorry, Edgar. But Black Box Inc. has to answer for their actions.”

Edgar sighed and started to speak, but the woman next to him gently touched his arm and he sat down. She cleared her throat and slowly stood up. Her knees popped and her back creaked as she struggled to straighten her spine. She finally gave up and rested one hand on the table as she looked at each of us.

Then she waved her hand and the two men removed the blood ghast from the dining room and took the monster back into the kitchen. There was a flash then a shriek and the smell of burning hair wafted out of the door that swung back and forth, back and forth, until it lost its momentum and went still.

“We have been asked to mediate,” the woman said, not offering her name. “We were asked by one of our cousins, a peluda named Violete. She is not of our species or our dimension, but she is related in ways that none of you present can comprehend. We have great respect for Violete and will not dishonor her by giving in to demands from petty men and women that want nothing from this meeting other than their own aggrandizement. You, Ms. Ducheré, agreed to this mediation. Mr. Graille, by attending the mediation, has agreed to the terms as well. Same with Black Box Inc.”

I raised my hand, which was smeared with bacon grease and sausage juices. The woman slowly turned her head and gave me a dead eye stare that caused external body parts to retreat deep inside me. But I kept that hand up until she sighed and nodded.

“The One Guy was supposed to be part of this whole shebang,” I said. “How does that affect this mediation?”

“It doesn’t,” she replied. “This mediation is between the parties present only.”

“So the One Guy gets off scot free?”

“I would not say that. He cannot benefit from any decision we make. No matter the outcome this morning, the One Guy will be at a disadvantage from this moment forward when dealing with either of you.” She smiled at me then turned and smiled at Graille. “A curse, if you will.”

“He’s so fucked,” Harper whispered. “Dragon curses. Shit.”

She wasn’t kidding. Cursed by a dragon is bad mojo of the highest order. Wherever he went to ground, he would be wise to stay there. Plus, there was the fact I was going to rip him to pieces with the dullest Dim blade I could create. If Harper or the Exiles didn’t get to him first.

“Thank you, my love,” Edgar said and stood again while the old woman sat. They shared a look I couldn’t read. They were dragons. Their looks were an entire language in and of themselves. “I am going to ask this once, so please think well on your answer: Do you accept the terms of mediation?”

“We get to go along our way and conduct business as usual?” I asked. He nodded. “I’m cool with that, pal. Lassa? Harp? Company vote?”

“Company vote,” Graille scoffed.

“Mr. Graille,” Edgar growled and it was as if the center of the Earth had spoken.

“My apologies,” Graille said and sounded like he meant it.

“I’m good,” Lassa said.

“This decision is enforceable?” Harper asked Edgar. “The DEX will look for a loophole.”

“We expect they might, so let me assure you, Ms. Kyles, that there are no loopholes when dragons mediate,” Edgar replied. “Our decision is final once agreed upon. Any ideas of finding ways in and out will be met with extreme discipline.”

“I’m fine then,” Harper said.

“Excellent,” Edgar said. “Black Box Inc. agrees to the terms. How does the DEX respond?”

“This was far from a mediation,” Graille said. “I expected negotiations. A back and forth so we could come to a mutual agreement. Instead, I sit here and get handed an ultimatum that I know will not be acceptable to my superiors. I must decline.”

“That is unfortunate,” Edgar said. “Is there nothing that can be done to change your mind?”

“No,” Graille stated.

“Then we wait until you change your mind,” Edgar said and sat down. “While we wait, please, everyone, eat this food. I hate to see it go to waste. Mr. Lawter is putting quite the dent in the platters, but even he cannot finish all of this.”

“Try me, pal,” I said as I loaded my plate with scrambled eggs, dumped a half ton of shredded cheddar on top, then began looking about the restaurant.

“What are you doing?” Harper asked, annoyed.

“Looking for hot sauce,” I said. “I want some Texas Pete’s on my eggs and cheese.”

“Chase, you aren’t getting what has happened,” Harper said.

“I’m not?” I replied, spying the hot sauce in a booth across the room. I got up and walked over to the booth. “What am I not getting?”

“We’re here forever,” Harper said, addressing the entire table. “Right? Once a mediation has begun, it does not end until all parties agree to the terms. We’re in this diner for eternity.”

“Correct, Ms. Kyles,” Edgar said. “For dragons, that does not mean much as we are eternal. But for the likes of mortals such as yourselves, this could become quite unfortunate.”

“I’m only sort of mortal,” Lassa said. “I still got like, what? Five more centuries before I’m even thinking of my twilight years.”

“How nice for you, Lassa,” Edgar said. “Even still, you are mortal. You may outlive all present, but that only means you will know loneliness once all are gone.”

“Shit. That sucks, dude,” Lassa said.

“Quite.”

“Edgar, sir, how do we rectify this?” Ducheré asked.

“You agree to the mediation terms,” he replied.

“Yes, but as Mr. Graille has stated, we cannot agree to those terms.”

“Then we wait until you can.”

“So much for the fast of fair and fast,” I said.

34.

SIX DAYS WE SAT there. Six goddamn days.

The food was good, at least. The diner was much better at breakfast than they were at lunch or dinner, but I didn’t complain. I had a near bottomless pit in my belly to fill, so I filled it. Morning, noon, and night, I ate until finally, after everything, I began to feel somewhat like myself.

But not quite the same as before. There was something different going on and I had an idea about what it was. I kept that to myself, though. By the way the dragons kept looking at me, I knew they weren’t exactly ignorant of my situation. Edgar had alluded to it that first morning.

“Fine!” Mr. Graille shouted at exactly 4:35 pm on the sixth day. “We agree to the terms. I’ll handle the fallout this brings down on me. And I will handle it, I promise. Then I will decide how best to move forward.”

“An excellent outlook,” Edgar said. “We are pleased to hear this.”

“What do you mean by you’ll decide on how best to proceed?” I asked Graille. “That better not mean coming down on us. The whole point of this standoff was so you’d agree not to go after us.”

“Which is true,” he replied. “But going after you is not my only recourse.”

“Not digging how he’s saying that,” I said to Edgar. “This dick is planning on coming at us sideways.”

“The DEX will not go after you or anyone associated with Black Box Inc.,” Edgar replied, but I could hear the disclaimer in his voice. “However . . .”

“No, don’t,” I said and stood up from my chair. “I get it. Those not associated with Black Box Inc., our friends for instance, cannot be protected by this agreement. Good thing we have excellent lawyers. Come at anyone we care about, Graille, and I sic the banshees on your ass.”

“I look forward to it,” Graille said. He stood and bowed then walked out of the diner. Just like that.

“Mr. Lawter. Ms. Kyles. Lassa,” Ducheré said as she got up and strode past us. “Until next time.”

“Better bring something stronger than a stasis ward, bitch,” Harper spat at her.

“I will. I promise,” Ducheré said as she left.

The rest of the DEX agents vacated the diner, leaving us alone with eight dragons. The two from the kitchen had taken up residence in a corner booth to play cribbage while everyone waited. They didn’t look up from their game as I cleared my throat and focused on Edgar.

“Okay, pal, lay it on me,” I said.

“Excuse me?” Edgar asked.

“How much shit am I in for banishing blood ghasts to the Dim?”

Edgar and his dragon friends all shared several different looks that probably had a billion different meanings.

“We do not know,” Edgar said. “That is the dragon’s truth. You are the first of your kind, defiler of dimensions. You are certainly living up to that name.”

“So there’s a chance that nothing will go wrong and those blood ghasts are lost forever in the space between dimensions, right?”

“No, Mr. Lawter, there is no chance that nothing will go wrong in this scenario. What you have done will bring horrors down on this dimension. Possibly all dimensions, but our dragon instincts tell us that Earth alone will bear the brunt of your choices.”

“I didn’t have a lot of choices to make. I had to save myself and my friends. The One Guy summoned the blood ghasts. That’s the asshole that should bear the brunt of what happened.”

“We do not disagree, but he did not work the Dim. You did. The blame cannot be spread around, no matter how unjust that must feel.”

“Feeling pretty goddamn unjust.”

Edgar shrugged.

The two dragons stood up from their corner booth, leaving the cards and cribbage behind, and walked past us to the front door. They stood on either side as one by one each of the old men and old women that represented some of the most powerful beings in the Universe, stood and left.

Edgar was the last one out the door. He gave a slight wave then was followed out by the card-playing dragons.

We sat there for a few seconds before Lassa said, “What exactly happened to that blood ghast they had in the kitchen?”

We got the hell out of that diner. Fast.

There was a pay phone by a grocery market on the corner. Mars Hill was still country enough that pay phones existed within its sphere of influence.

After calling collect, and taking a few minutes to talk Sharon down, I finally got her to call us an Uber to take us home. Or take Lassa home. Harper refused to let me out of her sight, again.

A shower or ten later, my belly still happily full, I collapsed onto my couch and waited for Harper to get done with her own two-hour-long shower. She’d hexed the water heater as soon as we got home, so it was unlimited hot water for three days.

She came out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped about her hair and pointed a finger at me.

“Time to stop improvising,” she said. “We’re finding you formal training for this Dim shit as of tomorrow.”

“You think I haven’t goddamn tried?” I responded with a frown at her tits. “Put a shirt on, Harp. Love you like a sister, but those are distracting.”

She flipped me off and stomped off to my bedroom where she had at least one bag of backup clothes.

“What the fuck, Lawter?” she screamed.

I bolted from the couch and rushed into my bedroom.

Harper was standing in front of my closed closet, still naked, but with her goblin sickle in hand. She glanced at me then slowly opened the closet, jumping backwards onto the bed as she did, the sickle out in front.

I had a shitty view from where I stood, so I moved a few feet farther into my bedroom. Then I froze in place.

“Like I need more shit in my life,” I said as I stared at two ghost kids. The same ghost kids from my nightmare before we left town. “What do you want?”

They mouthed words, but no sound came out.

“Shit,” Harper said, stepping off my bed and moving slightly closer to the closet. “I know these kids.”

Their attention turned to Harper and they began to speak faster, their hands flapping in the air with an urgency that made the lack of volume pretty goddamn frustrating.

“You read ghost lips?” I asked.

“Chase, these are the kids that were killed by that blood ghast all those years ago,” she said. “You don’t recognize them?”

“Oh, damn,” I said. “You’re right.”

She was. We’d seen the kids around downtown Asheville more than a few times before they disappeared then turned up as people paste all over the inside of that building. The same building where all of our blood ghast troubles had started.

“I don’t know what you are saying,” Harper shouted at them. “Can you write it down?”

They gave her the ghost kid equivalent of a “Are you fucking kidding me?” look.

“Who do we know that can help?” I asked.

It came to both of us at the same time. I activated one of the phones in my bedside table and called Sharon.

“Where’s Travis?” I asked when she picked up.

“Hello to you too, Chase,” Sharon replied, sounding sleepy.

“Shit, did I wake you up?”

“Chase, it is one in the morning. Yes, you woke me up. Can this not wait until tomorrow? Or today, as the case is.”

“Kinda need Travis now. Harper and I are having trouble translating a conversation with a couple of ghost kids in my closet.”

Justifiably, there was a long silence on Sharon’s end.

“Travis is staying at the office for now,” Sharon said finally. “I paid for some extra hex protection after the front window was repaired. But Travis suggested he could be of help by remaining there during off hours. Just in case.”

“Good choice, Shar. Thanks,” I said. “I’ll call the office.”

“I will get dressed and meet you at your place,” Sharon said with a sigh.

“What? No, we’re good right now. If we need you, I’ll call you back after I talk to Travis.”

“I am already awake, Chase. I will be over shortly.”

She hung up before I could protest again.

“Mom on the way?” Harper asked.

“Yeah and Travis is staying at the office,” I replied. I dialed the office number.

“Chase?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Because shit hit the fan here and when that happens, odds are you’re involved.”

“Pot calling kettle black, pal. And by shit hitting the fan, what exactly are you bitching about?”

Harper raised her eyebrows and I shrugged.

“About thirty ghost children popped by to see me,” Travis said. His voice was even, but far from calm. “They have a lot to say. A lot to say.”

“So you can understand them? Awesome. That’s what I wanted to hear, pal.”

“What’s going on?” Harper asked.

I pulled the phone away from my mouth.

“Travis says there are about thirty ghost kids at the office. They’re talking to him.”

“Chase?” Travis yelled. “Why did you ask if I can understand them?”

“We’ve got two kids in my closet here,” I said. “They’re talking, but we ain’t hearing.”

“Oh, I can hear them, don’t worry about that. They are not happy.”

“Like how not happy?”

“Like wanting to know who murdered them not happy. And breaking shit not happy. Not all of them can pick things up, but some have a knack for the poltergeist impressions.”

“That’s what they want? To find out who murdered them?” I asked and looked at the two ghosts in the closet.

They nodded up and down so fast that their incorporeal faces blurred into streaks of light.

“Yeah,” Travis replied. “They’re really fucking insistent.”

“We’ll be right over,” I said and hung up.

I called Sharon back and told her to call Lassa to pick us up.

Then I left my room, went to my kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out four cans of beer. I drank the first in one gulp and threw Harper one as I picked up my second.

“They still in the closet?” I asked.

“No. They took off as soon as you left the room.”

She downed her beer and I threw her a second one.

“Bet I know where they went,” I said as I sat down and we waited for Lassa and Sharon to show up.

35.

I WILL ADMIT THAT the front window looked great. The hexes on it were hidden perfectly.

“Huh. This is different,” Lassa said as we walked into the office.

Travis was sitting cross legged on my desk and staring at us with puppy dog eyes as way more than thirty ghost kids floated, flitted, shambled, coasted, and walked around the office. One of them picked up a stapler and threw it at us. Harper killed the stapler dead with the swipe of a blade.

“All right, kids, listen up,” I called.

Some of them stopped their movement and slowly turned to me. Most of them kept on being ghost kids oblivious to the world of the living.

“Hey!” I shouted. “Listen up, you little dead shits!”

That got the attention of most of them, but there were still a few that couldn’t care less. Most was better than none.

“I’m Chase Lawter, defiler of dimensions, and de facto boss of Black Box Inc. You are dead kids come back as ghosts and y’all are haunting our office. Now, we have a couple of options here. You can leave, which I doubt you’ll do, or you can sit down and start telling me what the hell is going on. You get what I’m saying?”

Travis winced as several of the kids faced me and started waving their hands about as they shouted their dead faces bluer than they already were.

“They say you messed with something you weren’t supposed to and now they have nowhere to go,” Travis said. “They need our help to put that right or they plan on haunting all of us for the rest of our lives.”

“Good thing you’re dead, dude,” Lassa said.

“Which means they haunt me forever,” Travis said, not very happy with that prospect.

“Oh, shit, right. Sorry, dude,” Lassa apologized. “And, yeah, that means they’ll be on my ass for a long time too. Shit. This sucks.”

“What does this mean?” Harper asked. “Is this because of the blood ghasts in the Dim? Is the Dim where the souls of murdered children go?”

“Why are you asking me?” Travis snapped. “I’m the shapeshifter ghost that was busy reading the newspaper when all of a sudden a bunch of stupid ghost kids began showing up. Where do the souls of murdered children go? Right fucking here, apparently.”

“I believe we need coffee,” was Sharon’s response to it all. She wound her way through the crowd of ghost kids and back to the break room. “Who wants coffee?”

“Make a full pot,” I replied.

I studied the chaos and groaned.

“How do we help these kids?” I asked.

“We solve their murders,” Travis said as he hopped down from my desk. “All of them.”

There was a flash in the corner of the office and two more ghosts arrived. Then another flash by the waiting area chairs. Five more ghost kids.

“That’s how it’s been all night,” Travis said. “They keep popping up.”

“Great,” I said and made my way to my desk while trying not to bump one of the kids. Ghost frostbite was not what I wanted to deal with.

I sat down and opened a drawer. Inside was a single business card.

“Chase? What’s that?” Harper asked as she followed me.

“The last resort,” I said as I dialed the number on the card.

Harper read the name and punched me in the shoulder hard enough to knock me out of my chair.

“Are you fucking crazy?” she snarled at me.

“He owes me,” I said as someone picked up on the other end finally.

“Gene Generson,” the smooth voice answered. “Your wish is my command.”

“Gene? It’s”—

“Chase Lawter! Well, my stars and garters, it has been a long time. Are you ready for me to grant you that wish I owe you?”

“Yeah,” I said as I looked around the office. Five more ghost kids had arrived since I sat down to make the call. “I think I am.”

“Splendid. Simply splendid! Lay it on me, you wonderful hunk of a defiler you!”

“I don’t want to make the wish yet. I need some time to strategize. Is there any way you can come by the office?”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“Well, while I am known for being quite possibly the most congenial entity on all the planes, it is quite late, Chase.”

“You’re an idiot,” Harper snapped as she stuck a finger under my nose. “Gene will screw us faster than the One Guy did. The DEX won’t need to find a loophole to kill us. Gene will find the loophole for them.”

“He can’t,” I said as I covered the phone with my other hand. “We have an ironclad agreement.”

“There are no ironclad agreements with djinn!” Harper shouted.

“Oh, is that Harper?” Gene asked. “Put her on.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.

“No, no, do it. Put her on. Please?”

I held out the phone.

“He wants to talk to you,” I said to Harper.

“No,” Harper replied.

“He said please,” I relayed.

“No!”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Gene? Yeah, she won’t take the phone. Sorry, pal.”

“No worries, my good friend. No worries. Hold on.” I heard mumbling as he spoke to someone. There was an angry response then a loud sigh. “Okay. I’ll be at your office within the hour.”

“Thanks, Gene.”

“But before I head your way, I must insist you give me an idea as to what I may be looking at in the way of granting your wish.”

“You’re all powerful, Gene. What do you need a heads-up for?”

“Oh, thank you for the compliment. I do appreciate it. But, even we all powerful beings must prepare for the worst.”

“Sure, pal.”

I paused and looked at the rest of Black Box Inc. Sharon was fidgeting bad and dead skin was sloughing off her hands in ribbons. Lassa was staring up at the ceiling. Travis was watching the ghost children wreak havoc on our office. Harper was glaring at me so hard I thought her eyes would turn to stone.

“All right. Here it is,” I said. “Gene, I think I’m going to need you to retrieve me from the Dim.”

Silence.

“Gene? You there?”

“Yes, Chase, I am here,” Gene replied. “May I ask why you would need to enter the Dim? For the defiler of dimensions, I must say that sounds like a very bad idea.”

“I tucked away some blood ghasts there and might need to bring them back. I think by putting them there I pooped in the Dim, so to speak.”

More silence.

Finally, “I’ll be right over.”

The phone went dead.

“He’ll be right over,” I said as I set the phone down.

“Awesome,” Harper said then clapped her hands together. “Get off your asses, people. We need to make this office djinn proof and now!”

I rubbed my eyes, stood, and went to get some of the coffee Sharon had started brewing. And the bourbon. We were going to need bourbon.

It was going to be a long night.

The End

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JAKE BIBLE, Bram Stoker Award-nominated novelist, short story writer, independent screenwriter, podcaster, and inventor of the Drabble Novel, has entertained thousands with his horror and sci/fi tales. He reaches audiences of all ages with his uncanny ability to write a wide range of characters and genres.

Jake is the author of a number of bestselling series: Z-Burbia series set in Asheville, NC; Salvage Merc One; the Apex Trilogy (DEAD MECH, The Americans, Metal and Ash); and the Mega series for Severed Press. His YA zombie novel Little Dead Man was a Bram Stoker Award-nominated teen horror novel.

His titles from Bell Bridge Books are: Stone Cold Bastards, Black Box Inc., and Blood Ghast Blues.

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