Chance in Hell Page 9

  Guess she had picked up on that, after all. “So you haven’t tried it?”

  “Tried what?”

  “Compelling me? Maybe influencing me a little with the whole vampire Jedi mind thing?”

  “Never.” She looked into my eyes. “I wouldn’t do that to a friend.” She could be doing it now, I thought, lying to me and making me believe her. But for some reason I knew she wasn’t, nor had she ever tried to with me. Which, thinking about it, was even more disturbing than if she had been manipulating me since we met. The implications were a little troubling. I decided not to think about them.

  “Okay, so I’m pretty happy that you and Lacey haven’t tried to kill me yet, but I think that others might not share your favorable disposition towards my health.”

  She didn’t correct me.

  “That’s what I thought. So what about that Powers guy? I mean, he obviously knows all about you guys. Christ, he employs you! Okay, not you specifically, but you know what I mean.” She nodded. “Why is he alive? Shouldn’t you guys have killed him by now, and not be working for him? Or is he not human?”

  “As far as I know, he’s human, but he’s too rich to be normal.” I knew what she meant. The rich always get to play by their own rules. “I don’t know how or when he found out about us, but at some point he did. From what I hear, he is fascinated by the supernatural, fancies himself an occultist. A collector of all things strange and wondrous.

  “Honestly, he keeps a pretty low profile, and he follows the rules. I mean, it’s not like he’s gone to the police about that urn, or we’d probably know it. So whatever that urn is or does, he doesn’t want it to become public knowledge.”

  She had a good point. According to that shaman Isaac, the urn was Jonathan Powers’s, and Professor Stone, one of his employees, had stolen it. I mean, he could have just gone to the police, told them that I was in possession of his stolen property, and they would have gotten it back for him. Unless, of course, he didn’t want it in their hands for some reason. In case he was worried something might happen.

  We finished our drinks. I paid the check with part of my newfound wealth and we headed outside. It was still early for me, and probably like morning for Megan. We decided to walk for a while. Unlike late August in Texas, the night here had actually cooled down. It was still comfortable enough, and I had my jacket in case I needed it. Despite her dress, or lack thereof, Megan didn’t seem to notice the temperature. “So how old are you?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.

  She gave me a sideways glance. “You know it’s not polite to ask a lady her age.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” I dropped it. “So, where are you from?”

  “Here, born and raised. Twice!”

  I laughed. We came to a street corner and, out of habit, I grabbed her hand as we crossed. I didn’t realize what I had done until we had taken a few steps into the street. She didn’t seem to mind. “And you’re from Texas?”

  “Well, technically Las Vegas, but yeah, I grew up in and around Austin. Lived there my whole life. Only been out of the state a couple of times, including now.”

  “You really were born in Vegas?

  “Yeah, and my mom really did have a one-night stand there with some guy no one’s seen since. And then she really did name me Chance. Unfortunately, she’s like that.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right; she tries most of the time. Does what she can for my brother and me. I’m more worried about Bryan. I had the drive to get decent grades; got a couple of grants and scholarships to pay for most of school. Though I’m still going to have some painful student loans.

  “Bryan, on the other hand…I don’t know. Not sure what he’s going to do. He’s more interested in chasing girls and partying than he is in worrying about his future.”

  “He’s young.”

  “Yeah, I know, but it’s not like he has much of a family to fall back on. His dad split before he was born. He’s never had a father figure. My mom believes in absentee parenting. She thinks it builds character or something.”

  “Seemed to turn out okay for you.”

  “Eh. Thanks. It’s Bryan I’m worried about, though.”

  “He sounds pretty tough. I’m sure he’ll find something that works for him.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. He works part time doing construction; maybe he’ll become a carpenter or something.”

  “I was born in nineteen forty-one.”

  “Huh?” I adjusted to the topic change. “Oh. Funny, you don’t look a year over fifty.”

  She bumped against my arm teasingly and squeezed my hand, which I realized she was still holding. “I died in nineteen-sixty.”

  “You’re vintage. Vintage things are all the rage now.”

  “Things?” She drew out the word a little. “So we’re back to that, are we?” She was smiling and tried to say it playfully, but I got the feeling I had hurt her. I hadn’t meant it that way, and I think she knew that. She was being overly sensitive about it; but of course, that might have been my fault. Calling her a monster all those times must be actually getting to her. I felt her hand loosen its grip. Yeah, I hurt her.

  Her hand slipped out of mine. Oh no you don’t, I thought. I moved the hand she dropped around her waist and pulled her against me as we walked down the street.

  “Back to what?” I said, lightheartedly. “I’m just an old-fashioned kind of guy. I see women as possessions.” I looked over at her. “And I’m very materialistic.”

  “So you collect women?” I felt her arm fall across my back.

  “Oh, no—one’s plenty. I just have really high standards. I’m pretty picky. The trick has been finding the right one, someone who’s just that good, and when I do, I’m going to hold on to her pretty tight.”

  We walked for a while longer, talking about nothing in particular, looking in some shop windows and enjoying each other’s company. Eventually we headed back to her car.

  We drove back to their house with the top down. I leaned back and looked at the night sky, noting the pink glow that washed out any stars. I didn’t think I could get used to the sky without stars; it just seemed wrong.

  She noticed me looking up and must have known what I was thinking. “Yeah, I miss them. The sky was black back then, when I was younger. You could see them—more stars than you could count. I would put the top down and stare up at them all, sometimes for hours.”

  “Geez, and I thought driving and texting was a bad combo.”

  “I pulled over first.”

  We pulled into the garage. Lacey’s Jeep wasn’t there. We entered the house, and Megan asked if I wanted to watch a movie while we waited for Lacey to come home. It sounded good to me. She put in a vampire movie from the ‘80s. I shook my head in wonder and plopped down on the couch.

  Megan kicked off her heels and joined me. She was close, and the hemline of her dress rose to improper heights as she sat. I had a feeling I was going to find it difficult to concentrate on the movie.

  I did my best, but then my eyes would betray me and start to slip sideways, and my mind would wander to thoughts of her and her bedroom.

  Crap! I suddenly realized I had no place to sleep tonight; at least, not officially. I guess I had been assuming I would just crash here again, but they hadn’t actually offered, and I hadn’t thought to ask. And sharing a bed was kind of awkward, though the schedules worked out pretty well. I guess there was one benefit of rooming with a vamp—you each got a lot of your own space. I supposed when Lacey got home I could ask her for a ride to a motel. There had to be one nearby.

  Megan caught my wandering eye and self-consciously reached a hand to pull down her dress.

  “Sorry; I was just thinking about sharing your bed.” Wait, that came out wrong.

  “You don’t say?”

  “No, I mean, I didn’t want to sleep there.”

  “I gathered.”

  “No, see, I was just thinking I was going to need someplace to sleep, and
I didn’t want to impose on you again.”

  “So, staring at my legs made you think about going to sleep. I’ve never had that reaction to them before.”

  “That’s not what I meant!”

  “Oh?”

  “No, you have great legs. I mean, I think you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met—I just meant that I need somewhere to sleep tonight.”

  “Heya!” said Lacey, walking into the kitchen from the garage carrying a white paper bag. “I brought ice cream! What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” Megan called in to her. “Chance was just saying that I have nice legs, but he didn’t want to sleep with me.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” I think I whined.

  “So you do want to sleep with me?”

  “Whatever,” said Lacey, walking into the room. “Just use the bedroom. I don’t want stains on the couch.”

  She landed right in between us, nudging us both sideways with the impact. I was sure it was completely unintentional. She put her feet up on the coffee table, reached into the bag, and pulled out a pint of ice cream. She opened the lid and said, “So who wants to hear how screwed we are?” She took a bite of Chunky Monkey. “Oooh, The Lost Boys! I like this one!”

  Chapter 12

  “So, yeah, it wasn’t as hard to figure out what that urn was as I thought it would be,” said Lacey, sitting between Megan and me, splitting her attention between a pint of Chunky Monkey and the TV.

  “Really? That’s good,” I said, remembering Lacey coming in the door holding nothing but a bag of ice cream. “So. Um. Where is it, by the way?”

  “Oops. Left it in the Jeep. I’ll get it after this scene.” I waited for the scene to finish. When it did, and she made no move to get up, I sighed and went to get the urn myself. I grabbed it out of the Jeep and set it on the kitchen table then returned to where Megan and Lacey were caught up in the cheesy vampire flick.

  “So, you said you figured out what the urn was?” I was about to wave my hand in front of her face if she didn’t respond.

  “Huh? Oh, hey, yeah. So, anyway, I went to meet Greta, the friend of mine I was telling you about? And I started with the whole ‘we have this artifact and we know it’s magical—‘”

  “We do? Know it’s magical?”

  “Of course—I knew that the moment I saw it.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, no, but the more I thought about it the more I thought that it could be.”

  “Oh, okay then. So you were projecting.”

  She ignored me. “So I told her we know it’s magical, but we want to know what it is. What it was supposed to do.”

  “And how to destroy it,” I prompted.

  “Um, yeah. Sure.”

  “Lacey,” said Megan.

  “Yeah, I know, but wait ‘til you hear what it is!”

  “I’m waiting.”

  “Okay, so I don’t know exactly what it is, but I’m pretty sure it was created by King Solomon to trap demons. Or at least by someone who used his brand of pentacles to trap them.”

  Pentacles? “He had five? And he trapped demons with them?” I crossed my legs.

  She just glared at me. “Pentacles.” She said it loud and slow, like she was trying to get someone to understand a foreign language. “Not testicles. A pentacle is a symbol. It looks like a star. It’s what’s engraved on the sides, bottom, and lid of the urn. Supposedly, King Solomon used them along with a ring to bind and control demons.”

  “Who was this guy?”

  “A Jewish king who ruled about three thousand years ago. Like I said, apparently he had a ring—some say God gave it to him, but who knows? Anyway, it let him control demons. He was even said to have created the first Jewish temple using demons as slave labor. Apparently, he also had a habit of sticking the demons in bottles or urns. You know that story from The Thousand and One Nights about a genie in a bottle found by a fisherman? Well, the genie was in the bottle because King Solomon had gotten upset with it and put it there. One legend even says he took control of seventy-two demons and bottled them up in a single container.”

  “And you think this is one of his bottles?”

  “Well, Greta did, anyway, and the symbols on it seem to fit. They’re definitely the type he used—at least, according to the Seal.”

  “The seal? Please tell me your friend isn’t a were-seal, because I really don’t think I could process that.”

  She just looked at me. “No, my friend’s a witch. The Seal of Solomon is a set of books. Instructions on demon summoning. It lists the various symbols and rituals that he used.”

  “Okay, that makes more sense. So because the urn has these seals on it you think it might be one he made.”

  “Yeah. And your urn is brass. He seemed to use brass for these things. And it’s pretty old, and he was around like three thousand years ago.” She shrugged. “So, I mean, it kind of looks that way.”

  “So what do you think Powers wants with it?”

  “Power, maybe? Bragging rights? I don’t know. He’s supposed to be some kind of collector; maybe he just thought it would look good on his end table or something.”

  “You think he has plans to use it?”

  “I doubt it. I’m not even sure if he could. I think it’s like countries and nuclear weapons—everyone wants to have some, but no one really wants to use them.”

  Just in case we failed, I sure hoped so.

  The movie had ended and I suppressed a yawn. I was getting tired. It was two o’clock, but thanks to the time difference, it felt a lot later.

  “Use my bed,” Megan said, noticing me fading fast.

  ”I can just sleep on the couch,” I offered.

  “Nah, I’ll be up for a while; I need to get caught up on a few shows. We can switch out in the morning.”

  “Sure. Thanks.” I made a mental note to grab a hotel room or something tomorrow, as I shuffled off to Megan’s room. I got ready for bed, put on some sweats that I had bought at the mall earlier in the day, and crashed amid the comforting smell of lavender.

  I had one of the best nights of sleep I’d had in awhile. I didn’t wake up a single time during the night, which was pretty unusual for me, especially lately. I remembered some of my dreams but, for a change, most of them were good ones.

  I woke up to darkness, which was disorienting, as the window in my room normally pounded me with light, making sleeping in difficult. Then I remembered where I was. The room was completely still, but I didn’t feel alone. I looked around and could just see the dark outline of a person lying face-up next to me. It looked like my stirring hadn’t woken her up. I stayed as still as I could but I couldn’t hear her breathe, which made sense, as she didn’t need to. After a minute of watching and listening, I decided that, despite what she told me, they did go into a type of coma-like state during the day. I slowly turned, starting to get out of bed, when I heard her mumble and felt the bed shake a little. Then a dull weight fell across my side as she turned over on her side and threw her arm over me. Okay, so maybe not a total coma.

  Chapter 13

  Some minutes later, I slowly and carefully extracted myself from Megan, managing to slip out of bed without waking her. I padded into the kitchen and found Lacey at the kitchen table with a pile of books. It was ten-thirty. I hadn’t pegged her as the studious type, but this urn must have caught her interest, because she looked like she had already been reading for hours.

  I sat down in the family room and tried calling my mom, but it went straight through to voicemail. I left her a message to call me. I then called Bryan. He answered on the second ring. There was music in the background, and it sounded like he was driving. I asked him if he was okay. He told me everything was fine. No signs of vampires.

  I asked Lacey if I could borrow a computer so I could check my email. She tore herself from a book and showed me into her room. It was painted yellow, with delicate-looking white furniture. There was a desk with a laptop open on it
.

  “Help yourself,” she said, and then left me alone, hurrying back to her books.

  I logged on and parsed through a couple dozen e-mails, most of which were either spam or from lists I was on related to school. Then I got to what I was looking for—an e-mail from ToniN85@att.net titled “Hostage Swap.” I opened it and read the contents. A single line of text: “Your car for my rabbit’s foot. Angelo’s Deli. High noon.” It was signed “xxo Toni.”

  I sent the reply: “I’ll be there.” I logged off and went into the kitchen, where Lacey was eating a bowl of Lucky Charms and reading an old leather-bound book at the table. I looked at the text; it was in large block print that looked like it had been hand set. I thought it was written in Latin. The fact that she could read it was fairly impressive.

  I told Lacey that I was going to take a cab and go get my car.

  “Uh huh,” she said, not looking up from her book.

  I called a cab and cleaned my .45 at the coffee table while I waited. I loaded the gun with the one clip of silver bullets I had with me. I had some more in my car, along with a few other supplies, but that wasn’t going to do me much good. Neither would the silver bullets, unless it was against werewolves. Silver was actually pretty lousy for bullets, but seeing as it was daylight, I figured I didn’t have to worry about vampires, and I had no intention of shooting an actual person. So, seeing as I was meeting a werewolf, silver seemed like my best bet.

  I thought about that for a second as I reassembled the gun. Most of these monsters I had been surrounded by lately seemed a lot like actual people. It was messing with the nice little reality I had been building up since learning about vampires six months ago. It was starting to make things a lot more complicated.

  I finished putting the gun back together and then strapped on the holster. I put on the hoodie Megan bought for me, using the full-length mirror in Lacey’s room to make sure there wasn’t an obvious bulge. The Kimber was a great range and tactical weapon, but its larger size and single action weren’t ideal for concealed carry. But it was all I had, so it would have to do.