John Levitt - Unleashed

“Why is that?” Eli asked. Once again, academic curiosity had overcome the practical problem in front of us.

“Because of how it came into this world. It was pulled in by an overload of talent-I would guess from these very stones you used to trap me. The magic has run wild, coursing through its bloodstream, and that’s made it sick, almost like a rabid dog.” He looked over at me. “So it’s not really the beast’s fault-it’s yours.”

“Never mind that,” Victor said. “Mason, you’re the one this fellow first called-you must have some idea of his nature. Do you buy it?”

I thought about what Campbell had said, about it not really being a Wendigo the way Eli had assumed. More like an elemental, with unknown motives. And I realized I had indeed made a lot of assumptions about it. But letting it out of the circle did not seem safe.

“Could be,” I said slowly. “But there’s no way to know for sure.”

“Well, how about if you call up Sherwood for us,” Victor said. “If you can. Then we’ll talk about what’s to be done with you.”

“I have a better idea. How about you let me out of here, and then we’ll talk about getting this Sherwood person back.”

Classic impasse, a Mexican standoff. I don’t know how it would have been resolved, but then the unexpected happened, as it often does.

We’d all been focused on the Wendigo, not surprisingly. So when the fake Ifrit burst out from behind the closest bush, it caught us all by surprise, even Lou. It ran right by, ignoring me, and sprang at Victor. That made sense; he was the one holding the shotgun. Victor spun around, but he didn’t have time to line up the barrel for a shot. The creature launched itself at his throat, snarling with a thick, guttural roar. Victor did just manage to get the shotgun up to protect his throat, using both hands, but instead of blocking the creature’s charge, he threw himself backward. He used the length of the gun as a lever and flipped the creature over his head as he went down. It was like watching a goddamned ninja movie.

He sprang to his feet as if he were made of rubber, leveled the shotgun, and pulled the trigger. The sound was enormous in the quiet. Before I could even react he’d pumped off four more rounds. The creature dodged, incredibly fast, and despite Victor’s vaunted marksmanship and competence he only managed to graze it at best. The creature screamed as if it had been hit and dropped to the ground, where it flopped around like a dog’s chew toy. But it was on its feet almost instantly. Victor was out of rounds and would need to reload, but it didn’t know that. It decided it had had enough on this particular night. It bolted past me, whipping out a passing claw in an attempt to slice through Lou, but he ducked it easily. Then it was gone, bounding off into the night. The whole thing had lasted no more than ten seconds.

But there was one small unintended consequence. Between the flying pellets and the creature thrashing around, the circle of stones was in ruin. Not that it was a circle anymore; it was now merely a random collection of stones. The Wendigo casually stepped forward out of what was left of the circle, kicking a few of the remaining stones out of the way.

“Well,” he said. “This certainly changes things.”

WE ALL HAVE DIFFERENT WAYS OF HANDLING such situations. If I’d been alone, I would have run without a moment’s hesitation. Hell, it had worked once. Victor automatically crouched into a fighting stance. I don’t think he even knew he had done so; it was just a reaction as unconscious and natural to him as breathing. Eli simply walked forward until he was two feet away. He gestured toward the darkness where the fake Ifrit had vanished.

“Was that your doing?”

The Wendigo smiled, but it wasn’t bright and cheery this time.

“Not at all. I would imagine your clever stone circle attracted it.”

“Quite possibly,” said Eli. “So, you’re free. What now? Are you going to help us or not?”

You had to admire him. Eli just assumed, matter-of factly, that there was no danger now that the Wendigo was free. He just carried on as if nothing about the situation had changed. I’ve seen him do that before. Mostly, it works, but that’s because it’s Eli. If I tried something like that, I would most likely end up as lunch. But the Wendigo seemed more than happy to play along. Maybe he’d been telling the truth after all.

“Again, what’s in it for me?” he said. “You don’t seem to have as much to offer now.”

Eli pointed at the stones scattered on the ground. After the test runs and the trap, they were barely glowing.

“You absorb magical power. Those stones have enough to keep you going for I don’t know how long-months, at least, I’d say.”

The Wendigo glanced down at them.

“Not anymore, they don’t. They’re almost used up.”

“Yes, but we have more of them. We’ll trade you-stones for Sherwood. You bring her back and we’ll give you enough of them to last quite a while.”

“Now, that is tempting.”

“He claims Richard Cory is back safe,” I put in. “If he is, if he’s telling the truth, great. But if not…”

“You’ll hunt me down like a dog?”

“We can at least make your life difficult,” said Victor.

“I’m sure you could. And if I just take care of you all right now? I could, you know.”

“Possibly,” said Eli. “But to what purpose? You wouldn’t get any stones that way. And maybe it wouldn’t turn out for you as well as you might think. Those stones are not our only tools.”

Eli seemed to grow in size and bulk, and his voice became quietly menacing. He was an impressive figure, and anyone or anything would think twice about taking him on. What the Wendigo didn’t know was that it was entirely a bluff. Eli of course has great intellect and presence, but no real intrinsic power. Victor would put up a fight, but even with my help I had a feeling we’d be badly outmanned. But it worked. I don’t know if the Wendigo was unsure of our powers, or if he simply had no bad intentions, or if he really wanted those stones, but it worked.

“Deal,” he said. “I’ll be at your house tomorrow morning. I’ll call back this Sherwood for you, and you’ll hand over the stones.”

“My house?” said Victor. “You don’t know where I live.”

“Don’t I? I’ll see you there.”

He walked off, brushing by me. Lou looked over at me, asking if I wanted him to follow, but I shook my head no.

I WAS AT VICTOR’S EARLY NEXT MORNING. IT hadn’t been a bad night’s work. We’d found the Wendigo and got him to agree to do what we wanted. The fake Ifrit had been a surprise, but at least no one had got hurt.

Victor was eating breakfast and grudgingly provided me with coffee. Lou didn’t even bother to beg; he knew it was useless. Victor looked tired as well, which was unusual for him. His earlier leg injury must have taken more out of him than I’d thought. He hadn’t even got around to reading the morning Chronicle, still secure in its orange plastic wrapper.

“Do you think he’ll show?” I asked for the third time. Victor had thrown open the tall front windows, and the early sunlight was streaming through. A pleasant breeze came off the ocean, uncharacteristically warm for so early in the day. For once there was no morning fog. I was sipping coffee, Eli was pacing back and forth, Maggie was sitting by the window, and Lou was lying on a rug, hogging a patch of sun and catching up on his interrupted sleep. He hated mornings almost as much as I did.

We’d got home late, since as soon as we’d left Fort Point I’d driven down to the Bay Bridge to try to find Rolf. He wasn’t around, and even Lou had some trouble tracking him down, so it was a while before we’d run him to ground. And yes, it turned out Richard Cory had indeed returned.