Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Julian succeeds in finding more monsters
He almost collapsed as he was let go. The man called Abraham grinned again as Julian gulped air into his lungs.
The blond Brit picked up Julian’s gun and shoved it into his back waistband. Frog-marched and pushed into a chair, Julian went down like a deflated balloon, wheezing and huffing.
The Brit raced to the sectional, kneeling beside the old man, checking for a pulse. “He’s alive, barely.”
Julian noticed a third man with crazy eyes and a wiry build enter the room. This guy dragged an unconscious Shorty through the door and propped him up against the wall. He pulled out some zip ties and bound his hands and feet.
The Brit turned to the golden-eyed man. “Abraham, maybe you could stow the otherness?” A smirk crossed his face. “That tail is slashing up the furniture.”
“Bullshit,” Abraham said, but the tail and golden glint in his eyes disappeared. Transformed, he looked as human as Julian did. Though in better shape. A big guy, African American, handsome face, strange eyes.
“Pery, keep an eye on the door, would you?” Abraham moved to stand beside the blond, both of them frowning over the man on his couch.
Julian pushed himself up in his chair, thinking if he could get to his office, he kept another gun there.
Suddenly there was the tip of a sword angled under his chin.
A freakin’ sword? The tip dropped into the hollow at his throat.
Julian didn’t move his head, but his eyes shifted.
“Calm down, D’Artagnan, I’m not going anywhere, okay? ”
“What the fuck did you do to him?” the younger man countered. The Brit’s eyes were emerald shards as he pressed the sword ever so slightly—just enough to get a trickle of blood going down Julian’s chest. If looks could kill, he’d be dead.
“Nothing.” His heart thundered in his chest. Any more pressure and the sword would slip into his trachea. “I swear. I need him.”
“Regge,” Abraham said softly, his big fists at his sides. “Remember? We need him. Don’t slip up and kill him.”
Thoughts circled. Julian noted the name. Reggae, like Bob Marley tunes. The sword moved aside. Julian relaxed but only for a second.
Regge jerked his chin at the old guy. “You need him? What the hell for? He means nothing to you. You’ve left him on your couch for several hours and he’s dying. Look at him.”
Julian glanced at the unconscious man on his couch before looking back at the blond.
He had thirty pounds on the kid, at least, but it wasn’t a fair fight.
His nose was clogged with blood and snot, and his eyes kept tearing up from the pain in his face.
Who were these people? He breathed out through his mouth, calming his pulse and his temper as he eyed the sword.
It was three against one, and one of them wasn’t even human.
“Why do you want him?” Abraham asked Julian.
“I don’t care why.” Regge spat the words out. “His meddling has put Hunter in danger.”
“Look kid,” Julian started, his voice nasally.
“Regge, right? My name is Julian. I work—or rather, worked—for a guy named Ramon Castenada.” He held his hands up and to the side, showing he was harmless.
“He got himself involved in some shit at the hotel and died. It’s totally not my fault.
But he was kind of my responsibility, and the people I work for, they aren’t forgiving, okay? ”
He very slowly moved his hand to wipe the blood from his upper lip.
A towel from his kitchen was handed to him, and he pressed it to his nose.
“Thanks.” He pulled the towel away to speak.
“The Castenada cartel? Heard of them? I’m a dead man if I can’t somehow bring Ramon back.
Just enough to show the gang he’s around.
” His eyes dropped to Shorty by the door—still out and looking far too peaceful.
Escape was so close and yet so far. Where would he go anyway?
“You’re resurrecting your boss?”
“This guy can do it, I think.” He gestured at the old man. “He’s a… a—shit, I can’t even believe I’m saying this—a necromancer.” Bringing the towel up, he blew his nose forcefully, clearing it. It hurt like hell, but he could breathe now. He glanced at the Black guy. “You got a decent hook.”
Abraham flashed his white teeth but said, “I could get you some ice, I suppose.”
The kid scoffed as Julian’s mind buzzed.
There were cameras all over the building.
The rest of his crew had been in the lobby.
Where were they now? Dead? He slumped in the chair and smoothed down his rumpled shirt.
“How did you get past my men?” If he kept them talking long enough, maybe one of his lazy-assed guards would come looking for him.
“Easily. Pery’s crew moves a bit faster than yours.” Abraham handed him another towel filled with ice and upnodded to the man guarding the door. “Show him.”
The man shrugged as though working a sore muscle. Then he jerked a shoulder, an arm, dropped to his knees, and suddenly there was a large dog, drooling on Julian’s fancy Berber carpeting. No. A wolf.
“Holy shit.” Julian recoiled. “Fucking hell, are any of you human? Seriously, what kind of people are you?”
Abraham’s eyes flashed gold again, but at least the tail stayed hidden. “As I’m sure you know by now, the Fulbright is not your ordinary hotel. A place we’d like to keep under the radar. Which, thanks to you, it is not.”
Regge muttered, “Folk like Pery, and Master Anu, lived there.”
“Is that his name?” Julian asked. “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t touch the guy. I only carried him out. I need him, okay? To do his special necromancer shit. But he’s been out since we left the hotel.”
“He’s dying. Has been for a while.” Regge kept his focus on the old man.
“Even if he was healthy, it doesn’t work that way. Necromancy is not something you want to mess about with,” Abraham said.
“Then what the hell were you doing with him? Because if that wasn’t some demonology shit, I don’t know what is.” Julian scowled and then stopped because his nose hurt.
“Let’s get the old guy to a hospital or at least back to the hotel.” Abraham paced the living room.
“No,” Julian protested. “I told you I need him.”
“How did Castenada die?” Abraham asked as he moved around the room. Thankfully, the wolf had returned to his human form and remained at his post by the door.
“He may rally at the hotel.” Regge ignored Julian. “There’s some kind of special energy there. If we want to get Hunter back, we have to go there.”
Otherworldly or not, Abraham seemed more reasonable than the Englishman, so Julian focused on him. “I didn’t kill Castenada. I didn’t. He was a friend, of sorts. A bit of an asshole too, but a friend. He was my responsibility.”
Abraham pulled a zip tie from his back pocket, waving it at Julian.
“Oh, come on.” But at the flash of gold eyes, he sighed and put his hands out.
“Does his father know? This big crime boss?”
“Not yet. They’re not close. If I can bring him back, then I can manage… something.”
“Sit tight,” Abraham said. “We gotta wait for the foot traffic to die down.” With that, he helped himself to Julian’s kitchen to make coffee.
Julian sat tight. Though they did let him go to the bathroom and have a cup of coffee. He and Abraham talked sparingly until the man left to check on things. He returned and gave Regge a nod. The Brit gripped Julian’s elbow and led him to the door.
Abraham picked up the necromancer effortlessly, cradling him like a baby. Pery opened the door. They’d stashed Shorty in the closet, bound and gagged. But he was alive, and that gave Julian some hope. His mind raced, coming up with a solution.
“Look, I don’t know what happened to your friend. Hunter, was it? But we’re all kind of on the same side here.”
The elevator doors opened, and Abraham transferred his burden to the wolf guy and looked down at Julian. He wasn’t that much taller, but he had a hell of a presence.
“We generally try to stay away from police. But we have connections, and I can get you arrested for attempted murder, kidnapping, and assault. And that’s just tonight’s clusterfuck.”
Julian frowned. “The big guy at the hotel? Thought he moved like a cop.”
“How exactly did your boss die? You got an elevator ride down to explain.” Abraham punched the button for the garage. The doors closed.
“Ramon had weird interests, okay? He believed in things like vampires and…” He shifted his eyes to Pery, the wolf.
“Things like you. Ramon became obsessed with this woman he met at the hotel. After one night, he lost touch with her, not a big deal, but when he found her last week, things got out of hand.” He let out a sigh.
“That’s an understatement. By the time I found Ramon, he was involved in some demonic ritual shit.
A monster, big… hairy-assed, glowy-eyed monster…
just poof, it’s there. Ramon is dead. The woman’s dead, and I’m next in line.
This guy”—he gestured to the man in Pery’s arms—“shows up shouting and swinging a damn sword. You people really like swords apparently.” His gaze dropped to the kid’s hand around the grip.
“I grab Ramon’s body and high-tail it out of there. I’m alive but not for long once Castenada finds out.”
“Do you know anything about resurrecting the dead?” Abraham asked him.
“Like that’s right in my wheelhouse.” Julian sighed, watching the floors tick down. “I only figured out who the guy was from Ramon’s notes. This shit shouldn’t be real. Not at all. But you’re real, whatever you are.” He ticked his chin at Abraham. “And Cujo over there, he’s freaky, but real.”
He was suddenly tired. Done. The anxiety over the past week had been horrendous. “At the hotel that night, I wasn’t high or drunk or crazy. The monster was real, and he killed Ramon. Which means necromancy is real. And possible.”