Dead Set Page 17

  “Yeah, Dad. I understand. Magick is a hammer.”

  “Good.”

  “Dad. Why did Adam send you Tristan’s address?”

  “There’s no way I’m taking you there,” I said, pulling on to our street.

  “But Dad, he’s my boyfriend—”

  “I don’t care.”

  Cathy crossed and uncrossed her arms—her resemblance to Porter was unmistakable. “How do you even know Adam’s right?”

  “Nothing is one hundred percent, but my apprentice is good at tracking and—”

  “Yeah, he can track a jelly roll right into his belly, but that doesn’t mean he’s found the Magician you’re looking for, or that that Magician is Tristan.”

  “No one said that—in fact all we have is an address.”

  “Dad, he’s an 'A' student, and he plays soccer.”

  “I know that word!” the Imp shouted from the back seat. “It’s descended from a Hell game where they kick a sinner’s head around, right?”

  “Cathy, have you ever noticed anything odd about Tristan?”

  Odd, like maybe he’s been digging up old bones at a certain construction site?

  “No! Dad, he’s like the most normal guy I know. He’s even more normal than Mom.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “Almost a year!”

  “Does he have any brothers or sisters?”

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. Listen, Dad. This has to be a mistake, maybe Adam is giving you bad information. Tristan’s a really good guy… I like him.”

  “Which is all the more reason you shouldn’t be coming—”

  “But Dad—”

  “Catherine,” I said, pulling the car into the driveway and hitting the garage door button. “I’m not going to argue with you. You are getting out of the car, now.”

  My daughter placed a hand on the door handle and hesitated, then, in a fit of frustration, slammed her shoulder against it and barreled her way out of the car.

  “Well, that went well—” the Imp said, his words cut off by the slamming car door.

  I waited until the garage door had closed, with Cathy safely on the other side of it, to pull out of the driveway. Just to be on the safe side I circled the block once, but the Law Estate looked no different on that second pass.

  It took me a little longer than I cared to admit to locate Tristan’s house. It was in a part of South Tampa I wasn’t familiar with—the part where people with money lived.

  I checked the address again, and my phone’s navigation system, then pulled off into a small neighborhood with an ornate sign that proclaimed that area to be ‘Sherwood Estates,’ a deed-restricted community.

  The Imp and I rolled past large, beautiful homes with elaborate landscapes and expensive cars. This wasn’t the cheap-seats, this was where the well-to-do lived— you know, the ones that don’t have an Imp in their son’s car seat.

  That’s the house…

  I pulled up to a two-story home with practically zero lot line. The house’s design clashed with the typical Floridian-Spanish decor—no tile roof, no stucco walls, just bricks, and unlike the song, they don’t build them like that in the Sunshine State. Brick was expensive down here, which made Tristan’s family all the more interesting.

  I slowed down to take in the curved driveway and get the lay of the land, but my heart skipped a beat when I discovered Cathy hopping out of a car in the driveway.

  What the hell!

  The blue compact pulled out of the curved driveway and as it passed, I spotted that telltale markings of a local ride-sharing outfit.

  So, one decade of grounding… or two?

  I stopped and pulled Porter’s car into the driveway, but not before Cathy caught the attention of a well-dressed woman stepping out of an Escalade parked closer to the house.

  “What is she doing?”

  The Imp leaned forward against the 3D printer glass. “I’d say she’s going to get you killed. Just a hunch. Speaking of which—you picking up on that vibration?” He placed his tiny fingers on the glass. “Yeah, hm, I don’t like this.”

  I could feel it too. It was like a guitar string stretched taut, to the point of near collapse, then plucked.

  Old Dead.

  “Boss, this is Old Dead. Let’s drink the bourbon and keep driving—now!”

  What I assumed was Tristan’s mom returned Cathy’s wave, albeit a bit half-heartedly, her fingers positively dripping with gold.

  The Imp caught sight of the older woman. “Oh my! Now that’s a nice piece of—”

  I tossed a towel over him.

  “Hey, I was watching that!”

  Cathy must have heard me, because she turned around briefly before greeting Tristan’s mom. “Hi, Mrs. Shelldeck, is Tristan home?”

  I unzipped my bag and freed a Walking Liberty from the pouch along with a canister of Morton Salt.

  “What’s the plan, boss?” the Imp asked, hearing me shuffle around him.

  “Keeping you out of the wrong hands—and making sure we have a way out of here,” I said, pouring a salt circle around Kris’s car seat.

  “Hey—that better not be salt…”

  “Ah, nope, definitely not.”

  “Damn it, least you could do is leave me the bourbon to drown my boredom.”

  “Yeah, no, but here, take this,” I said, finding one of my daughter’s textbooks on the floor and shoving it in his box.

  The Imp frowned at the book. “This isn’t bourbon.”

  “It’s English, the bourbon of languages.”

  “Jerk.”

  36

  Shelldeck Estate

  Once outside the car I used up the rest of the salt to surround the vehicle while Cathy kept Tristan’s mom busy.

  The tall blond woman slung a large and dappled-leather purse over her shoulder and smiled at Cathy. “Sorry, sweetheart. Tris is out with other… friends right now.”

  “Oh.”

  “Was he expecting you?”

  “Ah, no. I just… no, I—”

  I threw the salt canister in the car and closed the door before my daughter could make this anymore awkward.

  “Hi, I’m Eugene Law, Cathy’s father,” I said, extending my hand.

  “Jessica Shelldeck, nice to meet you.”

  Tristan’s mother could be best described as a former blond bombshell. She might have been past her prime, but that wouldn’t have stopped you from thinking she had a beauty pageant to attend later in the day. Her nails sparkled and her hair fell in soft, golden waves. She wore tight leggings and a sleeveless top which let people know she did more than keep up appearances at the gym.

  Jessica Shelldeck was certainly a looker, but there seemed to be more to her than superficial appearances.

  Tristan’s mother extended a soft and supple hand to shake, which I accepted. I didn’t detect anything Magickal, but it might take a little more than a handshake to know for sure.

  “What can I do for you two?”

  We have reason to believe your son is a budding Magician and is controlling a small team of New Dead hellbent on destroying my family. Oh, and he might be hoarding a skull—an unbelievably powerful Old Dead skull—that should never be rejoined with its body.

  “I just wanted to get to know the parents of the boy my daughter is dating. You know—pop in and say hi.”

  “Dating? These kids with their terms. I never know what Tris is doing one week to the next,” Jessica said, her lips falling open ever so slightly and letting me know she was more than a little unsure, and wasn’t certain what to make of this impromptu visit. “Well, I guess I can invite you two inside… the maid was here Wednesday, but it’s not too bad yet.”

  We’ll slum it.

  Adam’s car cruised up the driveway, but seeing me out and talking to Jessica, he stopped, then put his car in reverse.

  “Friend of yours?” Jessica asked, directing her attention to Adam and his
meticulously primped man-bun.

  I shook my head. “Nope, must be turning around.”

  My apprentice tilted his head in obvious confusion before turning back around and driving up the block.

  Jessica fished a set of keys out of her purse and pressed the lock button.

  Honk, honk.

  “Come in, I’m thinking Kelly might be out back,” Jessica said, guiding us toward the door. “It’s Mr. Law, right?”

  “Please, call me Gene.”

  Jessica unlocked the front door and ushered us inside.

  Solid threshold, but nothing Magickal. Certainly nothing that screams ‘stay away, we do the evil here.’

  Jessica led us into a stunning grand foyer. Dual staircases curved like twisting snakes to a second-floor landing above us. Large gothic columns sprouted from expert-cut travertine-like Roman oaks and kept that second floor from crashing down on our heads. Somewhere in the distance, faint classical music played, and while it clashed with the violins of malignant terror in my head, it still sounded damn good.

  So this is what it’s like to be rich?

  “Beautiful home, Mrs. Shelldeck—”

  “Please, call me Jessica.”

  Our gracious host led us past the stairs and between the columns.

  “Enjoy yourself, this is the last time you’ll see the light of day for ten years,” I whispered to Cathy, trying to keep my voice low in the booming echo chamber that was the Shelldeck Estate.

  Cathy hung her head. “Sorry, I—”

  “Completely blew it? Ignored your father? Put yourself in potential danger—yeah, you sure did.”

  “How long have you been in Florida, Gene?” Jessica asked, her heels striking a jarring rhythm against the stone floor.

  “I was born here, went to college here. Hell, I’m sure they’ll bury me here.”

  Jessica paused at the next door, placing her hand on the rich oak before turning to face me. “Really? A native. My sister went to college here, but she transferred in from out of state.”

  “Yep, some of us are just crazy natives. Which school?”

  “Florida, but like I said, she didn’t last.”

  Jessica smiled at me. In another other place that would have seemed normal, if not downright pleasant, but against the backdrop of tension in the house it was almost predatory.

  “I think she wishes she’d stuck it out, though.”

  The Imp was right. Something’s not quite kosher here, but where is it coming from?

  Jessica guided us into the kitchen. You could have fit three full Law Family kitchens in that ocean of granite and mahogany. Two full-size ovens with ranges, two refrigerators, and a glass wall of wine and assorted adult beverages rounded out the room. The Shelldeck larder was stocked for a zombie apocalypse, but judging by Jessica’s perfectly manicured nails, if zombies had roamed the street, the Shelldecks would be stuck making reservations.

  Well, maybe she’d raise a champagne glass—unless she has a person for that too.

  “I’m sorry the kitchen is such a mess. Like I said we typically give the staff time off on the weekends.”

  “No problem, I understand. I typically give my wife time off on the weekends too.”

  Jessica furrowed her brow.

  Stop screwing around Gene, and figure out where these New Dead are coming from.

  “It’s a joke.”

  “Ah,” said the woman, who clearly didn’t appreciate my sense of humor. “I was right, Kelly is out back by the pool. Let me introduce you.”

  Jessica led us through the kitchen and over to a wide set of impressively carved french doors, their spiraling wood reliefs exquisitely cut and pressed over panes of perfectly clear glass.

  The cleaning staff must work like a NASCAR pit crew to keep the house this impressive.

  “Kelly? Gene Law is here, he’s Catherine’s father.”

  “Who?”

  As much as Mrs. Shelldeck would have given Porter fits, Mr. Shelldeck brought me right back to my awkward days in high school gym class. Kelly’s muscles had muscles, plus they were corded, toned, and rippled when he spoke. He might have been lying on a chaise lounge, but somehow his manly physique still looked ready for action.

  How does he do that?

  It took everything I had to not suck in my gut.

  “Catherine, dear. Remember? The girl Tristan is… dating.”

  That’s an odd place for a pause. I wonder if Cathy noticed…

  My daughter was too busy staring at the young woman rising up out of the pool, and I was ashamed to admit it, as soon as I noticed her I was staring too—long brown hair and sparkling eyes that matched a bathing suit far too revealing for any sane father’s approval. The skin we could see—and that was a considerable amount—was pale almost to the point of alabaster, a milky white that only made her eyes all the more captivating.

  “Oh, and I almost forgot, this is my niece Lucina. She’s staying with us while my sister is in town on business.”

  If I lived in a horror movie—and there were times I wasn’t sure I didn’t—this would have been the exact moment when the violins reached their climax. Tattooed in perfect detail on the curving edge of her ample chest and poking out from the skin-tight seam of a very skimpy bathing suit was an expertly inked sigil I never expected to see again. The curving lines, the complex whirls, all of it was the product of a single frightening mind—Ten Spins.

  Just like the theater…

  37

  Squirrels in Paradise

  Lucina let the water roll off her well-endowed frame with the precision of a girl who knew exactly how to get people looking where she wanted. With a casual grace no member of the Law family possessed, she sauntered past Cathy and selected a tightly rolled towel from the Shelldecks’ towel cart. Lucina patted the water from her face, but made zero effort to cover an inch of her marble-white skin.

  Even half-obscured, Ten Spins’ twisting sigil, with its complex lines and collapsing design, was impossible to miss. I’d only ever known one other Magician obsessed with the dark power tied up in his evil Magick.

  Morgan.

  The memories came back in a rush. Her bright green hair, her sparkling eyes, and the fiery doors of the ancient library. It had taken me years to get over that moment, and I wasn’t about to bring them back now.

  Focus on the present…

  Ten Spins Infernal Lock was just the sort of body art that branded this young woman a dangerous Magician with a flare for summoning up creatures of the darkest persuasion. The skill itself was a dying art, but not because there weren’t things to draw out of the inky depths. Lord no. If anything, the supernatural world was overflowing with terrible and devilish creatures ready to pop in for a visit and some nice soul rending.

  I mean, there’s an Imp in Kris’s car seat and I wasn’t even trying—that’s how overcrowded it is out there…

  Still, summoning powerful entities was hard on the body. Just like New Dead, most of the other unspeakable spirits of the great beyond wanted to hitch a ride on a nice piece of human trim.

  Lucina would be impossible to resist, thus the reason for the Infernal Lock.

  The design was elegant and powerful; it would keep the spirits out, but it was never something I would have tattooed on myself or any member of my family. The Infernal Lock was meant to keep all spirits out—even your own.

  Magick has a price.

  “Hello,” she said, extending a thin hand with well-manicured nails to rival Jessica’s toward my daughter. “What was your name again?”

  Cathy remained frozen in a perfect catfish-like stare.

  “Cathy!” I whispered, giving her a nudge.

  “Hi, I’m Cathy,” my daughter said, breaking free of her envious trance.

  “Cathy,” Lucina said, repeating her name like it had come from some foreign land. “And you are dating Tris?”

  “I… yeah, I—”

  “Odd.” Lucina finished dabbing the water from her face and set the towel as
ide, content to let the rest of the Shelldecks’ pool water roll down her ample bosom. “Tris hasn’t mentioned you… and we talk about everything.”

  Cathy struggled to respond—that green-eyed vixen had my young grappling master twisted up far worse than any opponent.

  “So, Gene, what can I do for you?” Kelly asked, getting up from his lounge chair and making sure I noticed just how much more impressive a specimen he was standing. He didn’t quite tower over me, but he certainly was tall enough to give me just the slightest look down. Unlike my daughter, I was used to dealing with people that looked down on me—I’d spent years around Porter’s family.

  Is it her? Is she the one summoning the New Dead and trying to bring the Defiler into this world? You won’t know unless you ask her, and for that you’re going to need to clear the room…

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to intrude. Cathy and I were just in the area and I thought we’d drop by. You know, do the good parent thing.”

  Kelly paused as if his brain had broken down processing the words ‘good’ and ‘parent’ in combination with my less-than-impressive physique.

  I’ve dealt with guys like you before, Adonis—never as powerful as you think you are.

  “I see. Well, in that case, welcome to my home. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the big man said, slapping a perfectly tanned hand on my shoulder just hard enough that I had to fight the urge to wince. “Can I get you a beer or something?”

  “No, I don’t—”

  My phone chirped in my pocket and I fished it out. It was a text from Adam.

  Out front, what do u want me to do? The Imp is in here?!

  Ignore him, don’t break the salt circle.

  “You know, I take that back, Kelly. I’d love to have that beer.”

  Especially if you and Jessica go get it…

  My host’s face drooped ever so slightly—if he’d bet that shoulder slap was going to scare me off, he’d bet wrong. “Ah, sure thing. Lucina, would you go get a couple of Coppertail from the beer fridge?”

  Damn it.

  Lucida’s green eyes sparkled, and she grabbed Cathy’s hand. “Come on, you can give me a hand.”