John Levitt - Unleashed

“Four?” he said, unimpressed. “That’s hardly worth my while.” The greedy look in his eyes belied his casual tone.

“It’s not like before; I’m not asking you to actually do anything. Just some information, that’s all. Still, if it’s not worth it to you.” I started to put the stones away.

“Hold on,” he said. “Hold on. Maybe we can do business here.” He really was a junkie for the stones. He could have a thousand of them and he’d still want more. I carefully laid the stones out on top of a speaker cabinet.

“How do I find it?” I repeated. “Or her.”

The Wendigo sat back down on the low stool behind the drums, picked up a pair of sticks, and started tapping idly on random drum surfaces.

“Why a drummer?” I asked, suddenly curious. “With your peculiar voice talents, I’d think you’d be a natural as a singer.”

“What fun would there be in that? Music is all about rhythm, anyway, at least the kind I like. Rhythm is what calls to the blood-it was the first music, before humans were humans. Believe me, I know.”

“So you’ve been around for a while,” said Sherwood, who had been silent up to now.

“Indeed I have.”

“Fascinating,” I said. “Once again, how do we find this creature?”

“Well, she’s in the city. I can tell you that much.”

“That much I already know.”

“And she’s taken on an aspect. Not the way I have-the aspect I have is pretty much the aspect I’m stuck with. But not her-she can steal the identities of normal people.” I was getting impatient.

“So far, you’re not telling me anything I don’t know,” I said.

“How about this, then. She’s got to kill every three days or so if she wants to keep strong. If she goes more than a week without a fresh infusion, she’ll revert back to her normal state and eventually end up as a mere mindless beast.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, this should be obvious, but she’s got a strong survival drive. Not just blind instinct; anyone she thinks could possibly be a threat to her she will target and murder-and feed off them as well, killing two birds with one stone, if you’ll pardon the pun?”

“What about your own abilities?” asked Sherwood. “You called Mason. You called me back from the dead, or close enough. Could you call her?”

“No, and I wouldn’t if I could. She’s not very pleasant. And calling her up wouldn’t fit in with my new lifestyle.” He did a couple of quick drum rolls. “But I can’t affect her, anyway. We cancel each other out, at least as far as special abilities go. But if you really want to locate her, you do have an obvious method.”

“And that is? “

“You’re clearly someone who’s a threat to her, and she knows that. All you need to do is to put yourself in a particularly vulnerable position and she’ll show up, believe me. Guaranteed.”

Bait. Once again. That seemed to be my current function in life. Still, not such a bad idea. Between Victor, Eli, and Sherwood, we surely could come up with a plan that would tempt her into showing herself but still keep me safe. Relatively. I scooped up two of the stones and put them back in my pocket. I didn’t think what he’d told me warranted any more, and in truth, I was loath to let them go anyway. The Wendigo got a weird look on his face and for a second I thought there was going to be trouble, but then Zack came back in carrying a couple of cans of soda.

“Everything cool?” he said, nervously, picking up on the tension.

“Totally,” I said. “We were just leaving.”

Zack stood in the doorway and watched us walk down the hall, still feeling paranoid, I’d guess. When he went back inside, he slammed the door and the sound of the dead bolt being aggressively shot home was audible all the way down the corridor.

“I thought musicians were supposed to be mellow,” Sherwood said.

“Jazz musicians are. Mostly. They have to be, just to get gigs. Heavy metal guys are another matter. Mostly Satan worshipers, I believe.”

We headed back to Victor’s. If we were going to set up a trap with me as the tempting morsel of cheese, I wanted to get started on it right away, before anyone else died.

We met Ruby coming out the front door of the mansion as we pulled up. She walked over to the driver’s-side window and reached in, putting a hand on my shoulder. She looked exhausted, with dark lines showing under her eyes. This thing was taking a lot more out of her than she’d admit.

“I’m sorry about the trouble with your friend,” she said. “And her dog. That’s sad. I’m glad you’re okay, though. But we really do need to do something about this, you know, before it gets worse.”

“We will,” I said. She looked past me inquiringly at Sherwood. “I’m sorry; I forgot you two haven’t met. Ruby, Sherwood.” Ruby smiled at her, and Sherwood nodded a bit distantly, which was unlike her. Weird.

“Let me know what you come up with,” Ruby said. “You know I’ll be glad to help any way I can.”

“Thanks,” I said. “We’ll be in touch. And be careful. I have a feeling one of us could be next on the hit parade.”

“You know me,” she said. “Always.”

She got into her old VW Beetle, waved, and putted off down the street. Lou and I jumped out of the van, but Sherwood remained seated, looking at me oddly.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “As I told you, ever since my return I see people more clearly. They seem almost transparent at times-that’s the best analogy I can come up with. Some people’s goodness shines through; others… Well, let’s just say not so much.”

“And Ruby’s one of those others?”

“Not exactly. It’s like there’s no one home, nothing there. I get no feeling at all from her.”

“That’s odd,” I said. “But she’s a strong practitioner. Maybe she likes keeping her private thoughts private. I know I do.”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t feel like she’s shielding, or hiding anything. She’s just… blank.”

“And you think that means something?”

“We’re looking for a shape-shifter, right? What if that’s not really Ruby? What if that’s not anything human at all?”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK?” I SAID TO ELI. “IS IT possible?”

Sherwood had dropped her bomb of an idea on Victor and Eli the minute we got inside the house.

“Oh, quite possible. The real question is, is it true?”

“But how could she fool us all so easily? It’s not just that she looks exactly like Ruby; she is Ruby, for all intents and purposes.”

“Remember what Richard Cory told me?” Sherwood said. “That once it consumes its victim, it becomes that victim? Not just the looks, not just the memories, but all the quirks, all the habits-everything that makes someone what they are.”

This was wandering into territory too deep for me. I could see Eli’s eyes light up behind his glasses, though. This was what he lived for.

“In essence, it is the victim, but at the same time, of course, it’s not. That makes for an interesting metaphysical speculation. What is it that makes us what we are? Does it have a soul?”

“Who cares,” said Victor. “As long as we can kill it. Let’s leave the speculation for another time and look at the facts. We’re looking for a shape-shifter, one so good it can fool even Lou. Ruby shows up at an opportune time, and tries to convince us that there is no creature wandering around. Instead, she points Mason in the direction of a mysterious ‘practitioner.’ One that lures Mason to an out-of-the-way corner. He attacks him, turns out to be a shape-shifter himself.”

“And she describes the supposed practitioner for me, but is conveniently missing when he shows up,” I said, slowly.