An American Weredeer in Michigan Read online

  “Yeah, thanks,” Lucien said, lowering his gun.

  He then lifted it up again and fired.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Son of a bitch!” Anne shouted, her ear bleeding from where Lucien had shot the edge off. It looked like pure agony, though I suspected it was more for the fact he’d made sure to make a deafening boom next to a person who had enhanced hearing.

  I felt my ears as they rang. “You know I have enhanced hearing too, right?”

  “Sorry,” Lucien said, shrugging. “I just wanted to make this as painful as possible without killing her. I could have gone for a gut shot if you wanted.”

  “No,” I snapped, looking at him. “Wait, you’re not killing her?”

  “I heard about the griffon attack from Alice,” Lucien said, his eyes narrowed. “One is happenstance, twice is coincidence, and three is enemy action.”

  “It’s only two attacks so far,” I said.

  “I’m more paranoid than Ian Fleming,” Lucien said, looking like he was unsure of his next words. “Right now, Preacher is the only clue we have as to who is coming after you, Jane. I’m not going to execute her just to satisfy a debt that has already been paid.”

  “Then what?” I asked, suspecting he wasn’t just going to let her go.

  Lucien snorted. “She broke into my place of business, armed like a video-game character, and tried to kill me. There are benefits to coming out in the Reveal. I’m going to hand her over to the cops.”

  Anne shot a death glare at Lucien as she struggled in her bonds.

  “Clara O’Henry is the sheriff,” I said.

  “She’s also the only honest one in the family aside from Emma,” Lucien said. “If they’re willing to bargain for her, I’m willing to negotiate. The Shadow Pine development project is my way of recovering all of the Dragon Clan properties the O’Henry family stole. Covering this up would do well to get me more of what I want.”

  It all came back to the purge of the Dragon Clan from Bright Falls. Once, the Drake family had been every bit as rich and powerful in the city as the O’Henrys. The O’Henrys had owned most of the properties in the town while the Drake had owned the lumber mill as well as forests. The town’s present depression was in large part because of the latter getting shut down, though it also meant we were surrounded by pretty forests too.

  “I will not be used as leverage against my family,” Anne hissed, her canines elongating as her eyes turned to a wolf’s. Seconds later, she snapped from her bonds and transformed into a wolf.

  Lucien threw her chain at her, where it wrapped around legs like set of boas before wrapping her up the same way he’d been.

  Anne reverted to human form, still bound. “Well, this is ironic.”

  “I’d prefer karmic,” I said, staring at her. “Lucien, promise you won’t kill or torture her.”

  “I don’t torture people,” Lucien said, a slight edge to his voice. “My vengeance is swift and final.”

  “Except to the survivors,” Anne muttered under her breath.

  “Yes,” Lucien said, his voice dangerous. “Then it is a pain one lives with every day.”

  Right, well that was taken care of. “I have a sample of a Dryad’s descendant’s blood and bone. Kim Su said you could maybe help with that as well.”

  Lucien shook his head. “I’m good at black magic and curses but not necromancy. There’s only one wizard in town who is good at that.”

  “Great.” I muttered, suspecting I was going to have to track down another evil wizard. “Who is that?”

  “Alex.” Lucien surprised me. “He’s the only wizard I know who can do both healing and death magic. Blame it on his spectacularly crap childhood.”

  “Ah,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, well, I suppose it’s as good a reason to see him as any.”

  “Do you need a reason to see him?” Lucien asked.

  I was a little scared to, actually, especially after kissing Lucien again. “No, I don’t.”

  Lucien nodded. “You know, if you want my opinion, I think you’d do better with me than him.”

  “I don’t,” I said, my voice low.

  Lucien gave a half-smile.

  “Oh for crying out loud,” Anne muttered, struggling to no avail in her chains.

  “Goodbye Anne,” I said, walking past her.

  “Before you go,” Anne said, stopping me with her words, “I need to know something.”

  “Yeah?” I said, staring at the wall that didn’t have a door. “Hey, Lucien, could you provide me with an egress?”

  “P.T. Barnum’s favorite monster. Sure,” Lucien said, waving his hand.

  A door appeared in the wall where there previously had not been one.

  Anne looked like she was struggling to say something. “Where did you get that image you put in my mind? It was…so lifelike.”

  “Oh, that’s because there’s an angel in my gun,” I said, shrugging. “It’s his memories.”

  Anne stared at me like I’d just told her the moon was made of green cheese then proved it.

  “What?” I said.

  Some people react a bit differently to the discovery that their beliefs are no longer a matter of faith.

  “I can tell when people are lying, but you’re not lying,” Anne said, shaking her head. “There really is an angel in that gun. I can feel its power from here.”

  “Why were you called Preacher?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around her confusion. “Presuming you had it as your call sign before you found Wolf Jesus.”

  “Just Jesus,” Anne corrected.

  I shrugged. “Hey, I’ve found Stag Jesus. Lewis found Lion Jesus. There’s Lamb Jesus…”

  Anne closed her eyes. “Please stop.”

  “Okay.” I wasn’t trying to make fun of her faith. Quite the opposite. Even if religion wasn’t my (medicine) bag, I was kind of doing the rounds as a spiritual leader anyway.

  “My mother was Russian and very religious,” Anne said, frowning. “She rejected the ways of the shapechanger faith and raised me in Orthodox Christianity. I didn’t believe in anything but what I could see or touch. Even when I found out spirits were real, I just assumed they were psychic background noise to humanity’s subconscious. It’s been hard adjusting to the fact it’s so much more.”

  “Huh,” I said, pausing as I considered her words. “Well, sucks to be you.”

  Anne continued staring at me. Perhaps trying to figure out how the hell I had a gun that killed demons. It had to be burning her that she’d gone through this entire struggle and I was walking around with a miracle gun.

  All life is a miracle, Raguel said. My status is no more or less than mankind’s.

  Yeah, yeah, I said. I’m still a polytheist rather than a monotheist.

  Justice, not religion, is my purview.

  And thank God for that, I replied.

  I’m not sure how to respond to that statement.

  I waved at Anne, realizing she was awaiting some sort of answer from me. “Uhm, yeah, go sin no more.”

  Lucien gave a half-smile. “Yeah, Jane, I don’t think you quite have the chops to pull that off.”

  “Their loss,” I said, really wishing I had some coffee and cherry pie now. “Thanks again, Lucien.”

  “It’s nice having someone to keep me from killing people,” Lucien said, giving a Boy Scout’s salute. “May your gods go with you.”

  “Yeah, and may I not have to murder one,” I said, growling. “I swear, this never happens to Harry Dresden.”

  Heading through the door, I found myself once more in Lucien’s apartment and was surprised to discover it wasn’t filled with the dead bodies of my friends and acquaintances. Instead, I found them all gathered on the couches and chatting away merrily. Robyn was telling a story of her time in Vegas and had the entire group enraptured. A part of me believed it was just her powers at work but another thought she was just that charismatic.

  So how am I going to convince her she’s a demigod? I as
ked Raguel.

  The truth should work.

  Yeah, I bet that worked. I can just imagine grabbing young Prince Arthur the kitchen boy and telling him he’s actually the king.

  He was Sir Kay’s squire, a perfectly respectable position.

  Wait, Arthur was real? I asked. I shouldn’t have been since Kim Su talked about having been there but I also heard she’d been the Rat Pack’s manager at one point.

  Arthaeus and his knights were real, though popular mythology has warped their legend. They were a rough-and-tumble band of Anglos, not shining French-inspired chevaliers. Lancelot didn’t exist. Gawain was Arthur’s right hand and Jennifer’s object of adoration.

  Jennifer? I asked.

  Guinivere was actually pronounced Gwen-if-fer, Raguel said.

  Huh, you learn something new every day, I said. Anything else?

  Tristan and Isolde never met any of them. There was a romance that brought down the realm, but there was also an army of demon worshippers.

  That was surprising. I don’t remember that in my Le Morte De Arthur.

  I hate that book. It accused Arthur of infanticide. But yes, Morgana was on Arthur’s side and Merlin was a woman. Kim Su was also the Lady of the Lake.

  I blinked then spoke aloud. “So literally nothing I know about King Arthur is true. Also I owe Kim Su a Coke because I didn’t believe her when she claimed that.”

  There was a sword.

  Grateful as I was for the distraction, I was pleased when Robyn waved to me. “Yo, Hartbreaker, I’m glad to see you. Did you get what you wanted?”

  “Not quite,” I said, looking at her. “I did get most of the information we needed, though. We have one more stop to make before we go hunting for your parents, though. Deana, you may want to go talk to Lucien.”

  Deana shot me a glare that told me the two of us were unlikely to ever become friends, mostly because she kept getting humiliated or almost killed every time we met, but that preceded her getting up and walking to the door.

  I wasn’t sure how I was going to tell Robyn not only was she a demigod but her mother probably hadn’t meant anything by leaving her to die. No, she was just supposed to be raised by a now-extinct cult of druids. The fact Robyn was an atheist would either make the whole conversation much easier or all but impossible. Then again, it was also an option just to leave explaining things to Alex once I told him the whole story, and that looked a lot more appealing right about now.

  So you’re passing the buck?

  I paused a second before doing a double-take. “Did you actually just make a joke?”

  No, of course not.

  I pulled out my cellphone and looked through Alex’s messages. We’d texted almost the entirety of the past few months. Despite the fact he was seven years older than me and in the FBI, Alex was an enormous goof. I’d even stopped caring about all the various deer puns my family had infected him with. We’d discussed everything from favorite sci-fi movies to video games to how we felt about our families. Well, I discussed my family and Alex mostly listened, I was pretty sure I knew how he felt about his family.

  I smiled at the photos of his cases he sent me. I also remembered Halloween of last year when I’d managed to dress up like Elektra and not look ridiculous while he’d gone as Matt Murdock. We’d driven to New Detroit and gotten completely drunk. It was one of our five or six “actual” dates. Even long distance, Alex was one of my closest friends and someone that brightened my day.

  “Monogamy sucks,” I muttered. Dialing in his number, I waited for him to answer.

  “Hello,” Alex’s voice spoke on the phone.

  “So.” I paused. “It turns out the purple-haired girl, Robyn Taylor, is actually a demigoddess daughter of a dryad avatar of the Earthmother. We’re being attacked by griffons and assassin wolf girls. There’s an ancient brotherhood of druids, which is sexist because women should be druids too, and I had a vision of the end of the world. That’s what’s going to happen if Culty McCultyPpants gets his hands on the Dryad and Robyn. Oh, Lucien says hi.”

  Alex paused. “Hmm, okay, that makes sense.”

  “Really?”

  “Not in the slightest,” Alex said simply. “Are you in any immediate peril?”

  “Not really,” I said, patting the pocket I kept the Merlin Gun in. “I did learn some fascinating factoids about King Arthur’s court, though. Did you know Kim Su was Merlin?”

  “Yes, I did,” Alex said. “The Merlin Gun was originally Caliburn.”

  “Who?”

  “Excalibur when it’s not French.”

  I blinked. “Wow, you gave me Excalibur? What’s wrong with you?”

  Get out, I said to the Merlin Gun. Why didn’t you tell me you were originally Excalibur?

  You never asked, he replied.

  “Let’s just say Raguel and I had a difference of opinion on how to handle the problem of evil,” Alex said, matching me reference-for-reference. “Actually, I’m curious if you could come over to the Lumberjack Inn if you have the time. You should probably bring your goddess friend, Yolanda, and Larry too if you can.”

  “Do I have to bring the hunters?” I said, looking over at them. “Because, you know, I’m terrified they’re going to kill us.”

  “We’re not trying to kill you!” Yolanda said, apparently able to hear our entire conversation. “I’ve only killed a few innocent supernaturals.”

  Everyone looked at her.

  “By accident!” Yolanda said. “Honest!”

  “Why do you want us to go to the crappy part of town?” I asked, knowing exactly where the Lumberjack Inn was. It was where flannel shirts and maple syrup went to die. “I mean, the uncool crappy part of town versus the part we’re presently in with the goth nightclubs and casinos.”

  “It’s kind of a long story.”

  “Hey, I just described my insane day in a decidedly unhelpful manner.”

  Alex chuckled. “Very well. Dr. Jones is dead and the police think I did it.”

  “See, you need to be less helpful. That was way too coherent.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alex, unfortunately, had to hang up soon after, but it put a burr on my butt and sent me straight to the car. The fact he wasn’t calling from a jail cell was a good thing even if I wasn’t sure what the situation was. I mean, he’d been arrested for the crime he was planning on doing. Assuming he was under arrest at all. Still, I took off with the Millennium Falcon and barely waited to get Robyn and Emma, along with the two people I wanted least involved in this.

  Yolanda sat in the passenger’s seat beside me while Larry sat behind her, next to Emma, and Robyn. It was a good thing the Hummer had a lot of room even though I was worried about the fact our hunter friends had put a bunch of tote bags full of weapons in the trunk area. I was really going to have to talk to Alex about the company he was keeping.

  “So do you think Alex killed him?” Emma asked, speaking politely.

  “Probably not,” I said, watching rain pour down on my windshield. Bright Falls was one of the rainiest cities in Michigan and I often wondered if we had a bunch of mischievous spirits trying to ruin everyone’s day. Then I remembered it was probably more likely the fact Detroit got one hundred and thirty-five days of rain every year and we were a couple of hours’ drive away. “If Alex wanted to kill Dr. Jones then he’d do it when he couldn’t reincarnate. Otherwise, some innocent is going to get their body hijacked.”

  “Excuse me?” Robyn said.

  “Alex says your cult leader buddy is Voldemort,” Emma explained. “We have to destroy his horcruxes first or something.”

  “Who?” Robyn said, clearly having no idea who that was. Wow, homeschooling in the woods had to be brutal. “A what now?”

  “Oh you poor thing,” Emma said, reaching over and patting her arm.

  “Actually, it’s the opposite of destroying a horcrux,” Larry said, surprising me by speaking with us. I would have thought him incapable of talking with us monsters. “We need
to find a magical object capable of housing Dr. Jones’s soul and imprisoning it post-death. That way he can’t reincarnate and return to menace the world. Lucien was our best hope for that, but he claims he doesn’t have anything strong enough. It’s not his kind of magic either.”

  “Yeah, Lucien doesn’t do death magic,” I said, frowning. “He said Alex himself is a better fit for it.”

  “Whoosh!” Robyn made a hand over her head gesture. It immediately en-deered her to me.

  Pun intended.

  “Yeah, well, we’re going to kill Dr. John Jones,” I said, my voice cold. “More permanently than he already has been. You have a problem with that?”

  “Not in the slightest,” Robyn said. “The guy is a total creep. He’s one of those cult leaders who consider female followers a privilege rather than a responsibility.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Did he—”

  “No,” Robyn said, her voice losing its usual effervescence. “I was one of the few people he didn’t make a move on. Given how it affected some of them, I almost wish he had made a move. It would have spared them some trouble. It’s why I don’t do religion.”

  “I used to do religion, but then my husband was eaten by my son,” Yolanda said, her voice cold. “I thought the entire world was being overrun with monsters right up until I found a wizard healed a little girl of cancer. He was invoking the power of the Force.”

  No points for guessing which wizard that was.

  “I’m so glad you got something to challenge your evil murderous worldview,” I said, less than impressed. “How many innocents did you kill before?”

  “Five,” Yolanda said. “The rest were a collection of murderers, rapists, and worse.”

  “Was Alex the wizard?” Emma asked.

  Apparently she thought there were multiple wizards who were priests of pop culture mythology. Alex had once blessed a broken car with the power of Optimus Prime and it started running better than ever.

  That shouldn’t have worked, Raguel said.

  No kidding, I responded.

  “Yes,” Yolanda said, not changing her tone. “He was hunting us.”

  I did a double-take. “What?”