"Let In the Void"
May. 26th, 2022 09:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"Let In the Void"
(1/14-1/17/2011)
I.
Sue Loughlin had been acting strange for a few days, enough to worry her friends. She was half-owner and manager of SILVER MOUNTAIN GIFTS on Rock City Road and was usually there most of the day, every day. Sue was fifty-still an attractive brunette who had put on some weight over the years but had a winning manner. She sold a lot of overpriced knick-knacks to tourists with a little judicious flattery. But beginning one weekend, she started to alternate laughing for no particular reason with crying jags where she locked herself in the back room for ten or fifteen minutes before coming out red-eyed and sniffling.
Virginia Longendyke worked the register and stocked the shelves. At twenty-five, she had been at SILVER MOUNTAIN for three years and liked it fine. It had given her pocket money while in college. When Sue dismissed her concerned questions with "It's nothing, just hormones," Virginia did not know what to do. By Thursday, Sue was useless in the store. After an hour passed without seeing her, Virginia checked by the back door that opened onto the municpal parking lot and found Sue laughing so hard she couldn't catch her breath. Virginia closed the store, dragged Sue into her car and drove her to her home up at the base of Overlook Mountain. It was a slightly run-down one story house with aluminum siding and a porch that held three rocking chairs.
Once back in her home, Sue seemed better. She settled down, wiped her face and let out a deep breath. After a few minutes, she went and sat down at the table in the breakfast nook and started toying with a small box of dark cherrywood. Virginia sat down to keep her company for awhile but her boss now seemed fine.
"I guess I'll go back and open the store again," Virginia said. She was not pretty, but youth and good health gave her appeal. Her long black hair was so curly she had given up trying to straighten it. "You can call me if you need anything."
Sue smiled graciously. "I'm okay, hon. Maybe I just need some time off." She kept turning the small box over and over in her hands as if it comforted her.
"I think so, Sue, you haven't had a vacation since I've known you." She leaned forward. "That's interesting. On top of that box.. the dragon eating its own tail. Very ancient symbol."
Without seeming to know it, Sue tightened her grip and drew the box to her breast, "This was a gift. It was given to me as a gift."
"Okay, sure." Virginia rose and headed out the front door, calling back, "Remember to call me if you need anything, anything at all."
That was the last time anyone saw Sue Loughlin alive. When the town police came in, they found her lying back in her chair with her mouth wide open and her eyes rolled up, her body as dry and wrinkled as a mummy. The room was a shambles, with every paper and small item tossed around violently but nothing had been taken.
a
II.
In his office on 44th Street and 3rd Avenue, Jeremy Bane was pacing so much he was almost running in a circle. Two weeks without any business, not even an offer to bodyguard a witness or to investigate sightings of strange animals. He got bored too easily for his own good. The same enhanced factor that gave him superior reflexes also left him hyperactive and restless. At a certain point, the Dire Wolf got hold of himself. He had cleaned the office, straightened and dusted and gone through his mail. It was only noon. Maybe he would go out to lunch at that sports bar on 8th Avenue where Bleak turned up and see if any Midnight War stuff was going on.
At fifty-four, Bane was still lean and fit. There were some grey strands in the full head of black hair and a line or two on the narrow face but he really had changed very little over the years. As always, he was dressed in the black slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket that had become his visual trademark. Now he decided to go get a hot roast beef sandwich at JACK'S HIDEWAWAY and see if Bleak had any interesting cases available.
Even as he headed for the door, the cordless phone on his desk rang. Bane swung around and dived for it. "Hello?"
"Hello?" came a young woman's voice. "May I speak with Jeremy Bane, please?"
"I'm Bane," he answered. "Can I help you somehow?"
"Oh, I hope so! My name is Virginia Longendyke, we've never met but you knew my mother Kate Longendyke. It was before I was born. You rescued her from some sort of wild animal that came down from the mountains. She never stopped talking about you. If I had been a boy, she was going to name me Jeremy."
Bane's grey eyes were distant. He remember the Kate Longendyke case. It was hard to forget a desperate chase after a sentient werewolf that had retained enough intelligence to want a human female for a mate. Bane had killed the brute at the last possible second after a long struggle and Kate was too traumatized by the incident to remember much. She called Bane once in a while even now. "I remember your mother," she said. "Is she in some trouble now?"
"No, no, no," came the voice. "She's fine. But she's told me so much about you and she said if anything weird or supernatural ever happened, I should let you know. It's your specialty. It's about my friend Sue Loughlin..."
The Dire Wolf listened without interrupting and only asked a few questions. "You were right to call me, Virginia," he said at last. "This is something the police don't have the training or outlook to handle. I'll be driving up to Woodstock immediately. That town has had some strange incidents over the years."
"I know! I've heard rumors all my life about the weirdness going on here. I'm glad you're going to investigate. Stop by SILVER MOUNTAIN GIFTS on Rock City Road as soon as you get here."
Bane said, "I'm on my way," and hung up. His mind was already searching memory for similar events but nothing quite matched. The Dire Wolf went to the closet and got his long cloth coat and a pair of thin leather gloves, everything black of course. It had been a cold January so far, although with little snow. He was already wearing the silk-thin Trom armor under his clothes and he had the matched silver daggers sheathed on his forearms always. From a locked drawer of his desk, he took out a long-barrelled .38 Colt revolver, spun the cylinder and put it in a holster that threaded through his belt. He was ready.
Leaving his office, the Dire Wolf hurried through the lobby and out onto 3rd Avenue. He turned left and rushed down to 40th Street, going over one block to Lexington where his car was kept at IMPERIAL GARAGE. At the moment, he was driving a dark green Subaru Outback with 15,000 miles on it. Bane checked that the green and blue security lights he had installed were blinking steady, unlocked the door and drove up the wide concrete ramp to the street. Finally, he felt at ease. Now he had a case and something to focus his energy on. Bane headed north up Lexington, figuring that once he hit the Thruway, he would be in Woodstock in a little under two hours. Say, two-thirty or so.
II.
Getting off the Thruway at Exit 19, Bane passed Kingston and headed up Rte 28. He wondered sometimes why this part of the lower Hudson Valley seemed to experience more than its share of weirdness. He had been in Kingston four times, fighting the Group Mind and the Three Sleepers and Lord Julian Gable. He had been in Woodstock three times, the most recent being that Dragon Within case but that was already seven years ago. Bane had been aided by the cousins Sam Simek and Artie Rosen, good solid detectives who had worked for him for a few years. They were retired now, Sam was living in a senior housing project and Artie still kept his apartment he seldom left. Bane made a mental note to drop in on them soon just to chat. They had been good friends.
Cruising along 28, Bane noticed new stores. There was a Harley place, with twenty bikes out on display. The Alternative Video store was long gone, replaced by a tattoo parlor. An animal hospital with a big sign, OPEN 24 HOURS. The Dire Wolf took it all in automatically. At a Cumberland Farms, he stopped for gas and to check the tires and fluids. He made a point to clean the car windows, too. When the shooting started, he thought, he needed to be able to drive and see without limitations. He also emerged with a ham and Swiss cheese on a hard roll, which he devoured while walking to the car.
Before going to meet with Virginia, he drove through town and looked around. Most of the stores had changed. There was a vinyl shop that sold old LPs and a guitar store called SIX-STRING HEAVEN. But the bulk of the stores were still gift shops that sold pretty little pieces of decoration for tourists. There was JOSHUA'S with its Middle Eastern menu, a pizza joint, WOK AND ROLL with Chinese food and a new INDIA PALACE. Some curry might be worth sampling before he left, he thought.
Turning past the Village Green, the Dire Wolf pulled into the municipal parking lot up Rock City Road. Before he went to see Virginia Longendyke, he wanted to inspect the death scene itself. The address meant it was about half a mile up this road. Bane walked briskly, enjoying the movement and the cold clean air. Living in Manhattan, he had grown used to smell diesel fumes all the time and being upstate was a treat.
At the corner where Rock City Road intersected with Lena Lane was the small house he had heard described. Yellow police tape stretched across the door CRIME SCENE DO NOT ENTER. But the door was open. Bane froze. Parked on the other side of the house, the nose of a black Nissan Altima showed. The Dire Wolf suddenly shifted into predatory mode, moving slowly and silently forward with every sense alert. As he reached the porch, he ducked under the police tape and stood still. He slowed his breathing, half shut his eyes and put all his attention into hearing. One person moving in the house. A man, fairly heavy by the way the floor boards creaked. He could smell cigarette smoke as well. There were pauses of a few seconds followed by light thuds. He was picking up objects and putting them down again.
Bane stepped into the doorway, seeing the broad back of a tall man in a white trenchcoat. A wide-brimmed fedora topped his head. As the Dire Wolf said, "Need some help?" the man whirled smoothly and a huge .45 automatic thrust its muzzle inches from Bane's face.
IV.
In a blur too quick to be clearly seen, Bane seized the gun and twisted it with one hand while his other hand squeezed hard on the man's palm to make his grip loosen. He tugged the gun away and stepped back. "I resent your attitude," the Dire Wolf said evenly.
The man in the trenchcoat was staring. He was in his early forties, not bad-looking with a square face and a pale hazel eyes. That nose had been broken more than once and although it had been worked on, it would never look the way it once did. He rubbed his wrist as if he expected it to be broken, but it was just bruised.
Bane ejected the clip of ammo and pocketed it, then handed the automatic over, butt first. "You can have your bullets back when you start to behave."
"I'm here on business," snapped the man gruffly. "Can you say the same?"
"Sure. I'm a licensed Private Investigator retained to look into what happened here. My name's Jeremy Bane." He paused the barest second. "What about you?"
"Well, that's a kick. Name's Ben Jantzen, everyone calls me Duke. I work investigations out of Albany, and this woman's family hired me to check out what happened. Funny little world."
Bane reached in his inner pocket and took of the leather billfold which held his PI license and handed it over. Duke did the same with a thick, well-worn wallet. They inspected each other's licenses as if expecting fraud but handed them back to each other.
"The Dire Wolf," Duke chuckled. "I should have known by those pewter eyes. Man, I have heard wild stories about you. Sanmhain, Seth Petrov, Wu Lung, John Grim.. you've brought down the worst bad boys on two legs."
"Mind telling me what you found so far?"
"Nothing useful. I don't think the place was searched, exactly. Drawers were not pulled open and cushions weren't slit. Everything seems to have just been tossed around."
Bane stepped further into the room. "Nothing heavier than a framed picture has moved. Notice the circular pattern. I think moving air did this... more than gale force winds inside this room."
Duke snorted. "Excuse me. Doors and windows are closed. Gale force winds in this room that didn't affect anything out in the hall? Come on."
"Sounds unlikely, doesn't it?" Bane answered absently. He went over to the wooden chair with a yellow cushion that had been pushed back from the table. Sue Loughlin had been sitting there. Dark stains were on the back of the chair and on the floor between the chair and the table. Bane found they were dry. He saw two more stains on the table extending only a few inches in from the edge.
"NOW what?" asked Duke despite himself.
"I'm surprised the crime scene boys didn't take this chair and table as evidence. But the stains are dry and they probably thought they were old."
Duke came over and tilted his fedora back with a thumb. "They ARE old."
"No," Bane said as if to himself. "Look here. Under this receipt that was blown here. The stain cuts off in the same shape as the piece of paper. Something was spilled all over during the windstorm and was dried almost instantly. The piece of paper shows that. I think every bit of the victim's body fluid spurted out. Blood, tissue, lymph systems, all poured out onto the floor."
"Well, that's downright impossible. Are you on meds or something, Dire Wolf?"
"I've seen it happen right in front of me. The Sphinx killed three of his henchmen that way." Bane examined the stains on the table. "This is significant. Her arms were resting here. Look at the angle, her hands almost met but not quite."
"What does that mean?" asked Duke despite himself.
"She was holding something between her hands. Something that was taken after her death. I need to talk with the cops about if they found anything on this table."
The detective stepped back, pulled out a pack of Winstons and tugged one out. He stuck it in his mouth without lighting it. "Listen. Mr Bane. I think your imagination is running wild. This woman was killed by intruders and they searched this room for something. That's the direction I'm going in. That's what I'm going to report to Mr Thorne."
Bane's grey eyes stabbed out at Duke like weapons. "Thorne. CALEB Thorne?"
"Yeah. You know him?"
"We've met," Bane said. Years earlier, he had found that Caleb Thorne's assistant was guilty of several murders and had testified at the trial that put the man in prison for life without parole. Lang, that was his name. Thorne had been old back then and Bane was surprised to find he was still alive and active.
"Tell Thorne I'm in the area on this case. He may want a meeting." Bane handed the ammo clip back to the detective, who pocketed it.
"Sure thing." Duke lit the cigarette and waved the match to put it out. "Be seeing you," he said from the doorway.
IV.
The next hour was spent at the office of Chief of Police, a stocky man named Decicco who remembered Bane from earlier encounters. Like many in the police hierarachy, he had come to have a grudging acceptance of how useful the Dire Wolf could be at times. On the other hand, they were not enthusiastic about his methods and were glad when the carnage ended and Bane went home. DeCicco regarded the man sitting in front of his desk much the same way he would a real wolf growling at him.
"No, there was nothing on the table. I was the second person to arrive. Officer Studt went to check on the woman, saw the body through the living room window and entered. The door was unlocked. He called me and I arrived eight minutes later from my home. The table was bare."
"Were her arms resting on the table?" Bane asked.
"Why, no. She was leaning back in the chair and her arms were hanging down. Horrible sight. She looked as if she'd been left out in the desert for weeks to dry out like that. I can't understand how that's possible."
"I'm looking into it," said the Dire Wolf. "I've been retained by a friend of the deceased to investigate." He started to get up.
"Wait. Jeremy. I've seen you here in town twice before. I appreciate your assistance, to be honest, but please try to keep everything quiet this time."
"And don't leave piles of corpses? I understand. One more thing. Do you know an Albany detective named Duke Jantzen is also in town, digging around?"
DeCicco frowned and tapped a finger on the desk. "If he is, he hasn't had the courtesy to let us know about it. I'll tell my boys to watch for him."
"I hope this is cleaned up fast," Bane said. "I'll do my best to minimize damage. Thanks, chief, I'll check in as soon as I have anything." The Dire Wolf walked out to his car and drove back into town. It was coming up on five-thirty. He pulled over at the intersection of Tinker Street and Rock City Road, saw that SILVER MOUNTAIN GIFTS was still open and went into the municipal parking lot. The wind was bitter. A warm spell a few days earlier had melted most of the snow, but the freezing air proved winter was still around. Bane trotted over a small wooden bridge that spanned a tiny creek, swung right and walked up to enter SILVER MOUNTAIN GIFTS. A bell over the door tinkled as he came in.
From the back room, a young woman with a head of curly black hair emerged. "Hi! Help you?"
"Virginia? I'm Jeremy Bane. You called me this morning."
"Oh, thank God. Please, come in. I feel better knowing you're here."
Bane looked around the shelves and saw dozens of little statues, scented candles, gems and silverwork. None of it meant anything to him. "I went to Sue's house and peeked inside. Hard to explain what happened there. It looks as if hurricane winds only went in the one room."
"I haven't been there," Virginia said, plopping down behind the counter on a stool. She was wearing a loose blouse of heavy white cotton and dark jeans. "Sue didn't come in the store this morning. She's always here before nine. At ten-thirty I called her house and got no answer. Maybe I was being panicky but I phoned the town police and asked them to go look. And they told me what they found...."
"I've got all the details from the police," Bane said. "Do you know a man named Duke Jantzen?"
"Who? No. Not at all, why?"
"Just collecting information. What's going to happen to the store now?"
"Oh." Virginia sat up. "Sue's ex-husband is half-owner, they were on good terms and I think he'll keep it going. We make a decent profit."
As Bane stood there taking the store in, he noticed the wooden box in front of Virginia. Dark cherrywood, he decided. The ornate top showed a winged dragon arched in a circle, eating its own tail. "Ouroubourus," he said.
"Oh, that's the word, I couldn't remember." As Bane reached toward the box, she snatched it quickly away and held it to her. Her eyes flashed angrily. After a second, Virginia said, "It was a present from Sue. A gift. Naturally I want to hold onto it."
"Sure," said Bane. "I can understand that." He was looking at her right hand. Three fingers were heavily bandaged, with a spot of blood seeping through the forefinger. "What happened to your hand there?"
"What? Oh, that." She laughed uncomfortably. "I'm trying to do some silver crafting in the back and I'm hopeless. I have to give it up." The young woman glanced up at the Dire Wolf. "Do you think you can find out what happened to poor Sue? She never hurt anyone."
Bane tried to be reassuring, "I'll do everything I can. There's a Holiday Inn on 28 about ten miles from here. I'll stay there until everything is settled. You have my number."
"Thank you. I just realized we haven't discussed your fee. I don't have a lot of money, Mr Bane."
The Dire Wolf said, "Hand me a dollar, Virginia." She fished in her pocket and gave him a crumpled bill. "This is all we need," he said. "You are now my client and I am acting on your behalf. I promise you I will uncover whatever's going on."
"One dollar..?"
"For legal reasons. Now I can refuse questions from the police because I'm protecting my client. It gives me some leeway." Bane headed for the door. "Call me if you think of anything I need to know. I will check back with you soon."
"I will. Thanks, Take care." After he left, Virginia took the wooden box with her, pressing it to her body protectively. Sitting at a work bench littered with tiny tools, she took a long needle and began repeatedly piercing the ends of her fingers...
V.
Heading out of town, Bane turned everything over in his mind without reaching any conclusions. He turned left on Rte 28 and went past various gas stations and strip malls with restaurants and antique shops. To his right was a seedy looking building with a sign on a post, MOTEL 19. On impulse, he pulled through the parking lot looking for a black Nissan Altima. If he had good reason to suspect Duke Jantzen of anything, he would have starting checking every motel in the area to locate him, but he had nothing but his dislike of the man to support that. Almost back in Kingston, he eased off a traffic circle and checked into a Holiday Inn. Bane paid in cash for three days, inspected his room and dropped his knapsack on a chair. Tugging off the heavy full-length coat, he dropped it on the bed. The clock on the bedside radio said six-twenty PM. He used the bathroom, scrubbed his hands and face and came back out to immediately get his coat on again.
Bane walked to the inhouse restaurant and ordered a four-egg omelet with cheese, mushrooms and peppers, a side order of home fries and an iced tea. He devoured it all as if starving and felt he could easily have eaten another one. Paying and leaving through the lobby, he tugged on leather gloves and started up his car. He was uneasy for some reason about the way Virginia's fingers had been cut up. Something about the blood seeping through the bandages triggered an alarm in the back of his mind. Bane hurried back to Woodstock at just over the speed limit.
Most of the stores in Woodstock closed at five in the winter, and the wind chill meant the streets were deserted. He saw one young couple running from a doorway to a pick-up truck and that was it. It was just after seven. As he pulled up into the center of town, Bane spotted a black Nissan Altima coming out of Rock City Road and heading west, through the village toward Bearsville. He noted the license plate automatically but couldn't see how many people were in the car. For a second, he considered following the Nissan, the odds were good that Duke Jantzen was behind the wheel but he thought it was more important to check on Virginia. Bane pulled up into an empty spot next to the building, where a new Volkwagen stood, and got out. The store was still lit. All his instincts were warning him. Bane loosened his gun in its holster behind his left hip and checked the hilts of his matched silver daggers to be sure they were ready to be drawn. He walked up to SILVER MOUNTAIN GIFTS and saw that the door was ajar.
"Hello?" he called. "Virginia? It's me." The store was empty. Heart beating faster, he stepped through the door at the back and pushed it open. It was a small workshop with a bench and tools, supplies in cubbyhole shelves and some packing boxes. The place looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Loose papers and small items were scattered in all directions. Virginia Longendyke was on the floor, lying on her side. Bane knelt and pressed the back of his hand to her cheek. Not only was she cold, she was withered and dry as old parchment. Except for the black hair, the girl looked over a hundred years old. Her mouth gaped open wider than it should have and her eyes were rolled up in her head to show the whites.
Bane stood up and surveyed the scene, fixing every detail in his mind. Going back out into the store itself, he picked up the phone at the counter and called the police chief's number. "Hello? Tony? Yeah, it's Bane. I'm at the store SILVER MOUNTAIN GIFTS. There's been another death. Just like the Loughlin woman. Yes. I just walked in two seconds ago. I'll wait here."
That took care of the evening. Bane was detained at the store until eleven, going over every detail backwards and forwards. Then he had to go to the station while statements were typed up for him to sign. He had learned to take his time and read such documents carefully. He asked that two or three phrases be rewritten because they could be taken the wrong way, and the clerk retyped the four page document before Bane would sign it.
Left alone together in the office, Bane glanced up at the clock. Twenty to one in the morning. Chief DeCicco loosened his tie and undid the top button of his blue uniform shirt. "I'll be straight with you. We have to proceed as if you're a suspect. We can hold you as a person of interest in any case. But I know your record. The chief before me worked with you twice and I've read about the serial killers and maniacs you've captured. So you're free to go. Mostly because I know you won't be leaving the area until you nail whoever is behind this."
Bane nodded thoughtfully. As he got older, he was more inclined to take a second to gather his thoughts before speaking. "Three things strike me. One is the presence of Duke Jantzen in the area, with the possibility that Caleb Thorne may be with him. Thorne has got to be eighty by now but he was one of the top private investigators of modern times. Amazing mind. If he's working on this, it has the possibility of being big. Maybe your men can check all the local motels to see if they're registered."
"Sounds reasonable. What else?"
"Both Loughlin and Longendyke were acting odd just before their deaths. Loughlin had been going through seizures of laughing and crying during her last day. When I saw Longendyke, the fingers on her right hand were bandaged and bloody. I saw her body in that back room, the fingers had gotten worse. There was a long needle on the floor with blood on it. For some reason, she was piercing her own fingers repeatedly." Bane shrugged. "Might be a connection. Also, the last I saw of her, she was acting unusually possessive about a small wooden box. It has a carving of a dragon on its top. I reached to touch it and she snatched it up. It could contain drugs. Precious stones. Cash. No way to tell, but I didn't see that box anywhere in the store tonight."
DeCicco grinned beneath his thick mustache. "You've been playing this detective game for awhile, Jeremy. What's causing these deaths? Some secret government weapon? A super-laser or something?"
"No. I think it's the supernatural. Believe it or don't, I'm not going to try to convince anyone about the Midnight War. They usually see enough to become believers before it's over. Some sort of gralic effect is forcing all the fluids out of the victims in a few seconds. I don't know any more than that."
"I'm not laughing," DeCicco said. "My mother came from the old country. She told me about witches and haunts when I was a kid and I believed her. I'm a good Catholic boy and I know there are evil things that come out at night."
Bane stood up and stretched. "I'm going back to the Holiday Inn by the Thruway circle. You can reach me there. I need to think this over. Maybe we can stop a third death if we figure things out quickly." He headed for the door and DeCicco called out, "Keep us informed."
Out in the parking lot, the Dire Wolf started up his car. He was not tired in the least. Basically nocturnal in any case, his adrenalin was up now. He started out of town, headed for Rte 28 and swung left again. What was in that box? Had both women been killed for its contents? What drug was valuable enough that a small amount like that was worth murder? Could it hold diamonds? Thousand dollar bills in a tight roll? Bane growled almost inaudibly. Zipping past MOTEL 19, he spotted a man moving in the parking lot. At one in the morning at zero wind chill. Bane slowed down and abruptly swung over to enter the lot. It was definitely Duke Jantzen, walking in a clockwise circle over and over.
VI.
The Dire Wolf got out and watched from a distance. There was something frightening about the compulsive way the detective was circling and circling, head down and arms hanging at his sides. It looked unnatural. And both of the women had been acting weird just before they died...
Rushing up to the man, Bane yelled, "What ARE you doing? Duke! What's wrong with you?"
"Me? Nothing, I'm fine."
"You are walking in circles in the middle of night out in the cold," Bane said. "You are not fine. Stop it. Hold still."
"Hmmm, I don't think so." The detective kept moving, and Bane suddenly kicked the back of the man's left knee and shoved him down hard to the parking lot. He got on top and pinned the struggling man down. Jantzen was strong and hard to restrain, he rolled over before Bane could get an armlock and heaved up on his feet.
"Okay, be that way," said Bane. He whipped a right jab and a left cross that cracked with a whiplash noise. Jantzen's hat flew off his head and he dropped sideways to the freezing blacktop. Even stunned, his legs kept twitching. Bane glanced around to see if anyone was watching, but there were no faces in the darkened windows. Cabin number 6 was lit, the curtains slightly opened, and the Nissan was parked there. Bane bent and flung Jantzen across his shoulders in a fireman carry, bringing him toward that door.
As he got within reach, the door opened from within and he saw a man in a wheelchair roll out of the way. Bane hauled Jantzen inside and dropped him none too gently on one of the two single beds. "He should wake up soon," he said and turned to Thorne.
The master detective was almost unrecognizable now. Gone was the immense beer belly, the white beard, the imperious glare. In his early eighties, Caleb Thorne had shrunk to a bony little old man. He sat in the wheelchair in his pajamas, with a blanket over his lap. But the blue eyes in the sunken face were still sharp and alert. "Jeremy Bane! Duke said he encountered you. Thank you for bringing him inside. As you can see, I am in no condition to have gone out after him."
"Mr Thorne. It's been a long time. I gather you're working out of Albany these days?"
"Yes. I was tired of Manhattan. I even retired for a while, but Duke talked me into being his mentor. He's shrewd and tough, but he has no deductive skills. I hoped to make him into a first rate detective before I died." The old man shook his head. "Why was he acting like that? What's wrong with him?"
Bane glanced around the room. "Before we do anything else, did he bring a wooden box back with him?"
"Yes. It's there on the dresser. He said it was a gift."
Spotting the dark box with its carved dragon, Bane rushed into the bathroom and came out with two thick towels. Being careful not to touch the box with his hands, he wrapped it in one towel and then tightly tied another towel around the first. Placing the bundle in the bathroom, he closed the door. Only then did he relax a bit. He came back out and sat down in one of the chairs as Thorne watched.
"I think we're safe now," he said. "But I'm not an expert. All these years in the Midnight War, and I have only learned a fraction of what there is to know." Bane leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him, head down, and exhaled sharply.
Caleb Thorne wheeled himself closer. "Duke gave me a report before he started acting strangely. Those poor women. Why were they dessicated like that? Where did the winds come from?"
"I've been thinking it over all day," Bane answered. "There is something cursed in that box. I don't know what. Whoever claims the box soon starts acting funny. They go through irrational motions. Then dried-up death and the winds. My guess is that they open the box and this happens."
"It's hard to believe," Thorne said. "I'm a materialist. I like to think of myself as hard-headed. But these strange events..."
"I know. Whatever. Now I have to figure out what to do about that box. Certainly, I want to make sure no one opens it again." He got to his feet and looked down at the withered form of the great detective. "Hopefully, once the box is destroyed, Duke will snap out of it.."
In less than a second, Bane glimpsed movement on the bed from the corner of his eye. He whirled in a crouch but for once he was too late. The .45 blasted four shots at him, deafening in the small room, and the Dire Wolf took three of the bullets in the chest and stomach. The impact doubled him up and threw him back against Caleb Thorne. The wheelchair rolled across the room as the old man yelled in alarm.
Getting off the bed, Duke Jantzen pointed the automatic at Thorne. "Where is the gift? That box was a present for me. What did he do with it?"
Terrified, Thorne pointed at the bathroom and Duke ran in there, slamming the door closed behind him. He could be heard laughing in there.
With a groan, Bane sat up, rubbing his chest. He was having trouble catching his breath.
Thorne said, "I thought you were killed! How bad are the wounds?"
"I wear Trom armor," the Dire Wolf said, trying to get to his feet but failing. "It's great but some impact does get through. Last time I got shot, I had a cracked rib." He managed to get up on his knees and grabbed the back of a chair. "Whoa, that hurts. Duke took me by surprise."
From the bathroom, they heard Duke yell, "It's beautiful. A blue gem, blue like the sky. I can see-" His voice cut off with a scream. Blinding blue light glared out from under the door, casting shadows in the room, and a rushing sound like a train going by deafened them. Then came the silence.
VII.
It took a few minutes before Bane could walk. Despite his healing factor and the Trom armor, getting hit by three .45 slugs at close range was no joke. Painfully, he opened the bathroom door a crack and peered in. The box was closed. Towels and washclothes had been thrown around, and the dried shrivelled body of Duke Jantzen was on the floor.
"Don't look in there," he told Thorne. "You don't need to see that."
"Poor Duke. If only I could have stopped him, but..."
Bane straightened up and rubbed his chest gingerly. "There's a travel crystal in there. A blue gem he said, and blue light came out. That explains it. I have to act fast. Do you have a suitcase?"
"Yes. There by the door. Two of them."
"Good. I need to take one." Bane grabbed the smaller suitcase and dumped its contents on the bed. He took it in the bathroom and came back out immediately. "I've got the damn thing in here. I don't know how long I have before it affects me. Listen. Call 845 246-7789. Ask for DeCicco, Tony Decicco. He's the Woodstock police chief. I have to go." The Dire Wolf left the hotel room at a run, threw the suitcase in the trunk of his Subaru and peeled out of the parking lot. He headed toward Kingston at just over the speed limit. At two in the morning, there was almost no traffic. He headed north, trying to remember the local geography. It had been years since he was last here.
After ten minutes of driving, the pain in his chest eased up. Evidently, nothing was broken. He stopped impatiently at a red light, saw no police cars in sight and went through. Soon he was out toward Lake Katrine. This was barely familiar territory, he had only passed through here once. He turned right, down a winding road that opened onto a highway and saw a sign KINGSTON-RHINECLIFF BRIDGE 4 MILES. He headed that way.
Bane began to think he should stop by the side of the road. There were a lot of small rocks he could throw. Wait. What? Throw rocks? Yes, he felt throwing one rock after another was a good idea. It made sense. No, he thought, that's crazy. It's the effect of whatever is in that box. He slammed down the gas pedal and sped through the night. The urge to stop and throw rocks played in his head. Bane had to focus. He was doing 75. There was where his attention had to be. Slowing down to normal speed as he saw the toll booths ahead, and paused to get a slip which would have to be paid on the way back. Ahead, the bridge stretched out high over the Hudson River.
As he drove onto the bridge, Bane thought he understood the situation better. A travel crystal was in that box, like the ones he and his KDF team used to go to the adjacent realms. But theirs had been made by the immortal Eldarin and were reliable. He was guessing that the tiny crystal in that box had been crafted by a Human sorcerer and it had gone horribly wrong somehow. Instead of taking a person to another realm, the imperfect gem only opened access to the empty Void between the realms. Opening that box let in the Void. It was the best explanation he could think of...
What was he doing on this bridge? There were no rocks here to throw. Bane cursed out loud. Halfway across, he braked hard and turned off the engine. He was still thinking about throwing small rocks, one after the other. No. He jumped out and the freezing wind high over the river stung his face. Bane opened the trunk. He grabbed the heavy tire iron and wedged it into the narrow handle of the suitcase. It wouldn't do any good if the suitcase just floated. Quick as he could, before the influence would prevent him, Bane threw the suitcase far over the side railing and watched it fall. He heard the splash a few seconds later and he almost collapsed. A truck rolled by and the driver turned his head to look but didn't stop.
Bane suddenly felt exhausted. If he slumped down now, he wouldn't be able to get up again. Stiffly, he walked around and got behind the wheel again. Starting up the car, he put it in drive and finished crossing. At the other end, there was an open area beside the road and he pulled over. He needed to rest. Everything hurt. Bane remembered his Tel Shai training and started taking deep slow breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Clear the lungs, calm the mind. He leaned his head against the steering wheel. Then, against his will, he got out again. He bent and picked up a small rock. Bane shuddered violently and then dropped it. He had not the slightest urge to throw it. The gem in the box was at the bottom of the river, too far down to affect anyone. For the first time in years, he laughed out loud in sheer relief.
2/4/2014
(1/14-1/17/2011)
I.
Sue Loughlin had been acting strange for a few days, enough to worry her friends. She was half-owner and manager of SILVER MOUNTAIN GIFTS on Rock City Road and was usually there most of the day, every day. Sue was fifty-still an attractive brunette who had put on some weight over the years but had a winning manner. She sold a lot of overpriced knick-knacks to tourists with a little judicious flattery. But beginning one weekend, she started to alternate laughing for no particular reason with crying jags where she locked herself in the back room for ten or fifteen minutes before coming out red-eyed and sniffling.
Virginia Longendyke worked the register and stocked the shelves. At twenty-five, she had been at SILVER MOUNTAIN for three years and liked it fine. It had given her pocket money while in college. When Sue dismissed her concerned questions with "It's nothing, just hormones," Virginia did not know what to do. By Thursday, Sue was useless in the store. After an hour passed without seeing her, Virginia checked by the back door that opened onto the municpal parking lot and found Sue laughing so hard she couldn't catch her breath. Virginia closed the store, dragged Sue into her car and drove her to her home up at the base of Overlook Mountain. It was a slightly run-down one story house with aluminum siding and a porch that held three rocking chairs.
Once back in her home, Sue seemed better. She settled down, wiped her face and let out a deep breath. After a few minutes, she went and sat down at the table in the breakfast nook and started toying with a small box of dark cherrywood. Virginia sat down to keep her company for awhile but her boss now seemed fine.
"I guess I'll go back and open the store again," Virginia said. She was not pretty, but youth and good health gave her appeal. Her long black hair was so curly she had given up trying to straighten it. "You can call me if you need anything."
Sue smiled graciously. "I'm okay, hon. Maybe I just need some time off." She kept turning the small box over and over in her hands as if it comforted her.
"I think so, Sue, you haven't had a vacation since I've known you." She leaned forward. "That's interesting. On top of that box.. the dragon eating its own tail. Very ancient symbol."
Without seeming to know it, Sue tightened her grip and drew the box to her breast, "This was a gift. It was given to me as a gift."
"Okay, sure." Virginia rose and headed out the front door, calling back, "Remember to call me if you need anything, anything at all."
That was the last time anyone saw Sue Loughlin alive. When the town police came in, they found her lying back in her chair with her mouth wide open and her eyes rolled up, her body as dry and wrinkled as a mummy. The room was a shambles, with every paper and small item tossed around violently but nothing had been taken.
a
II.
In his office on 44th Street and 3rd Avenue, Jeremy Bane was pacing so much he was almost running in a circle. Two weeks without any business, not even an offer to bodyguard a witness or to investigate sightings of strange animals. He got bored too easily for his own good. The same enhanced factor that gave him superior reflexes also left him hyperactive and restless. At a certain point, the Dire Wolf got hold of himself. He had cleaned the office, straightened and dusted and gone through his mail. It was only noon. Maybe he would go out to lunch at that sports bar on 8th Avenue where Bleak turned up and see if any Midnight War stuff was going on.
At fifty-four, Bane was still lean and fit. There were some grey strands in the full head of black hair and a line or two on the narrow face but he really had changed very little over the years. As always, he was dressed in the black slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket that had become his visual trademark. Now he decided to go get a hot roast beef sandwich at JACK'S HIDEWAWAY and see if Bleak had any interesting cases available.
Even as he headed for the door, the cordless phone on his desk rang. Bane swung around and dived for it. "Hello?"
"Hello?" came a young woman's voice. "May I speak with Jeremy Bane, please?"
"I'm Bane," he answered. "Can I help you somehow?"
"Oh, I hope so! My name is Virginia Longendyke, we've never met but you knew my mother Kate Longendyke. It was before I was born. You rescued her from some sort of wild animal that came down from the mountains. She never stopped talking about you. If I had been a boy, she was going to name me Jeremy."
Bane's grey eyes were distant. He remember the Kate Longendyke case. It was hard to forget a desperate chase after a sentient werewolf that had retained enough intelligence to want a human female for a mate. Bane had killed the brute at the last possible second after a long struggle and Kate was too traumatized by the incident to remember much. She called Bane once in a while even now. "I remember your mother," she said. "Is she in some trouble now?"
"No, no, no," came the voice. "She's fine. But she's told me so much about you and she said if anything weird or supernatural ever happened, I should let you know. It's your specialty. It's about my friend Sue Loughlin..."
The Dire Wolf listened without interrupting and only asked a few questions. "You were right to call me, Virginia," he said at last. "This is something the police don't have the training or outlook to handle. I'll be driving up to Woodstock immediately. That town has had some strange incidents over the years."
"I know! I've heard rumors all my life about the weirdness going on here. I'm glad you're going to investigate. Stop by SILVER MOUNTAIN GIFTS on Rock City Road as soon as you get here."
Bane said, "I'm on my way," and hung up. His mind was already searching memory for similar events but nothing quite matched. The Dire Wolf went to the closet and got his long cloth coat and a pair of thin leather gloves, everything black of course. It had been a cold January so far, although with little snow. He was already wearing the silk-thin Trom armor under his clothes and he had the matched silver daggers sheathed on his forearms always. From a locked drawer of his desk, he took out a long-barrelled .38 Colt revolver, spun the cylinder and put it in a holster that threaded through his belt. He was ready.
Leaving his office, the Dire Wolf hurried through the lobby and out onto 3rd Avenue. He turned left and rushed down to 40th Street, going over one block to Lexington where his car was kept at IMPERIAL GARAGE. At the moment, he was driving a dark green Subaru Outback with 15,000 miles on it. Bane checked that the green and blue security lights he had installed were blinking steady, unlocked the door and drove up the wide concrete ramp to the street. Finally, he felt at ease. Now he had a case and something to focus his energy on. Bane headed north up Lexington, figuring that once he hit the Thruway, he would be in Woodstock in a little under two hours. Say, two-thirty or so.
II.
Getting off the Thruway at Exit 19, Bane passed Kingston and headed up Rte 28. He wondered sometimes why this part of the lower Hudson Valley seemed to experience more than its share of weirdness. He had been in Kingston four times, fighting the Group Mind and the Three Sleepers and Lord Julian Gable. He had been in Woodstock three times, the most recent being that Dragon Within case but that was already seven years ago. Bane had been aided by the cousins Sam Simek and Artie Rosen, good solid detectives who had worked for him for a few years. They were retired now, Sam was living in a senior housing project and Artie still kept his apartment he seldom left. Bane made a mental note to drop in on them soon just to chat. They had been good friends.
Cruising along 28, Bane noticed new stores. There was a Harley place, with twenty bikes out on display. The Alternative Video store was long gone, replaced by a tattoo parlor. An animal hospital with a big sign, OPEN 24 HOURS. The Dire Wolf took it all in automatically. At a Cumberland Farms, he stopped for gas and to check the tires and fluids. He made a point to clean the car windows, too. When the shooting started, he thought, he needed to be able to drive and see without limitations. He also emerged with a ham and Swiss cheese on a hard roll, which he devoured while walking to the car.
Before going to meet with Virginia, he drove through town and looked around. Most of the stores had changed. There was a vinyl shop that sold old LPs and a guitar store called SIX-STRING HEAVEN. But the bulk of the stores were still gift shops that sold pretty little pieces of decoration for tourists. There was JOSHUA'S with its Middle Eastern menu, a pizza joint, WOK AND ROLL with Chinese food and a new INDIA PALACE. Some curry might be worth sampling before he left, he thought.
Turning past the Village Green, the Dire Wolf pulled into the municipal parking lot up Rock City Road. Before he went to see Virginia Longendyke, he wanted to inspect the death scene itself. The address meant it was about half a mile up this road. Bane walked briskly, enjoying the movement and the cold clean air. Living in Manhattan, he had grown used to smell diesel fumes all the time and being upstate was a treat.
At the corner where Rock City Road intersected with Lena Lane was the small house he had heard described. Yellow police tape stretched across the door CRIME SCENE DO NOT ENTER. But the door was open. Bane froze. Parked on the other side of the house, the nose of a black Nissan Altima showed. The Dire Wolf suddenly shifted into predatory mode, moving slowly and silently forward with every sense alert. As he reached the porch, he ducked under the police tape and stood still. He slowed his breathing, half shut his eyes and put all his attention into hearing. One person moving in the house. A man, fairly heavy by the way the floor boards creaked. He could smell cigarette smoke as well. There were pauses of a few seconds followed by light thuds. He was picking up objects and putting them down again.
Bane stepped into the doorway, seeing the broad back of a tall man in a white trenchcoat. A wide-brimmed fedora topped his head. As the Dire Wolf said, "Need some help?" the man whirled smoothly and a huge .45 automatic thrust its muzzle inches from Bane's face.
IV.
In a blur too quick to be clearly seen, Bane seized the gun and twisted it with one hand while his other hand squeezed hard on the man's palm to make his grip loosen. He tugged the gun away and stepped back. "I resent your attitude," the Dire Wolf said evenly.
The man in the trenchcoat was staring. He was in his early forties, not bad-looking with a square face and a pale hazel eyes. That nose had been broken more than once and although it had been worked on, it would never look the way it once did. He rubbed his wrist as if he expected it to be broken, but it was just bruised.
Bane ejected the clip of ammo and pocketed it, then handed the automatic over, butt first. "You can have your bullets back when you start to behave."
"I'm here on business," snapped the man gruffly. "Can you say the same?"
"Sure. I'm a licensed Private Investigator retained to look into what happened here. My name's Jeremy Bane." He paused the barest second. "What about you?"
"Well, that's a kick. Name's Ben Jantzen, everyone calls me Duke. I work investigations out of Albany, and this woman's family hired me to check out what happened. Funny little world."
Bane reached in his inner pocket and took of the leather billfold which held his PI license and handed it over. Duke did the same with a thick, well-worn wallet. They inspected each other's licenses as if expecting fraud but handed them back to each other.
"The Dire Wolf," Duke chuckled. "I should have known by those pewter eyes. Man, I have heard wild stories about you. Sanmhain, Seth Petrov, Wu Lung, John Grim.. you've brought down the worst bad boys on two legs."
"Mind telling me what you found so far?"
"Nothing useful. I don't think the place was searched, exactly. Drawers were not pulled open and cushions weren't slit. Everything seems to have just been tossed around."
Bane stepped further into the room. "Nothing heavier than a framed picture has moved. Notice the circular pattern. I think moving air did this... more than gale force winds inside this room."
Duke snorted. "Excuse me. Doors and windows are closed. Gale force winds in this room that didn't affect anything out in the hall? Come on."
"Sounds unlikely, doesn't it?" Bane answered absently. He went over to the wooden chair with a yellow cushion that had been pushed back from the table. Sue Loughlin had been sitting there. Dark stains were on the back of the chair and on the floor between the chair and the table. Bane found they were dry. He saw two more stains on the table extending only a few inches in from the edge.
"NOW what?" asked Duke despite himself.
"I'm surprised the crime scene boys didn't take this chair and table as evidence. But the stains are dry and they probably thought they were old."
Duke came over and tilted his fedora back with a thumb. "They ARE old."
"No," Bane said as if to himself. "Look here. Under this receipt that was blown here. The stain cuts off in the same shape as the piece of paper. Something was spilled all over during the windstorm and was dried almost instantly. The piece of paper shows that. I think every bit of the victim's body fluid spurted out. Blood, tissue, lymph systems, all poured out onto the floor."
"Well, that's downright impossible. Are you on meds or something, Dire Wolf?"
"I've seen it happen right in front of me. The Sphinx killed three of his henchmen that way." Bane examined the stains on the table. "This is significant. Her arms were resting here. Look at the angle, her hands almost met but not quite."
"What does that mean?" asked Duke despite himself.
"She was holding something between her hands. Something that was taken after her death. I need to talk with the cops about if they found anything on this table."
The detective stepped back, pulled out a pack of Winstons and tugged one out. He stuck it in his mouth without lighting it. "Listen. Mr Bane. I think your imagination is running wild. This woman was killed by intruders and they searched this room for something. That's the direction I'm going in. That's what I'm going to report to Mr Thorne."
Bane's grey eyes stabbed out at Duke like weapons. "Thorne. CALEB Thorne?"
"Yeah. You know him?"
"We've met," Bane said. Years earlier, he had found that Caleb Thorne's assistant was guilty of several murders and had testified at the trial that put the man in prison for life without parole. Lang, that was his name. Thorne had been old back then and Bane was surprised to find he was still alive and active.
"Tell Thorne I'm in the area on this case. He may want a meeting." Bane handed the ammo clip back to the detective, who pocketed it.
"Sure thing." Duke lit the cigarette and waved the match to put it out. "Be seeing you," he said from the doorway.
IV.
The next hour was spent at the office of Chief of Police, a stocky man named Decicco who remembered Bane from earlier encounters. Like many in the police hierarachy, he had come to have a grudging acceptance of how useful the Dire Wolf could be at times. On the other hand, they were not enthusiastic about his methods and were glad when the carnage ended and Bane went home. DeCicco regarded the man sitting in front of his desk much the same way he would a real wolf growling at him.
"No, there was nothing on the table. I was the second person to arrive. Officer Studt went to check on the woman, saw the body through the living room window and entered. The door was unlocked. He called me and I arrived eight minutes later from my home. The table was bare."
"Were her arms resting on the table?" Bane asked.
"Why, no. She was leaning back in the chair and her arms were hanging down. Horrible sight. She looked as if she'd been left out in the desert for weeks to dry out like that. I can't understand how that's possible."
"I'm looking into it," said the Dire Wolf. "I've been retained by a friend of the deceased to investigate." He started to get up.
"Wait. Jeremy. I've seen you here in town twice before. I appreciate your assistance, to be honest, but please try to keep everything quiet this time."
"And don't leave piles of corpses? I understand. One more thing. Do you know an Albany detective named Duke Jantzen is also in town, digging around?"
DeCicco frowned and tapped a finger on the desk. "If he is, he hasn't had the courtesy to let us know about it. I'll tell my boys to watch for him."
"I hope this is cleaned up fast," Bane said. "I'll do my best to minimize damage. Thanks, chief, I'll check in as soon as I have anything." The Dire Wolf walked out to his car and drove back into town. It was coming up on five-thirty. He pulled over at the intersection of Tinker Street and Rock City Road, saw that SILVER MOUNTAIN GIFTS was still open and went into the municipal parking lot. The wind was bitter. A warm spell a few days earlier had melted most of the snow, but the freezing air proved winter was still around. Bane trotted over a small wooden bridge that spanned a tiny creek, swung right and walked up to enter SILVER MOUNTAIN GIFTS. A bell over the door tinkled as he came in.
From the back room, a young woman with a head of curly black hair emerged. "Hi! Help you?"
"Virginia? I'm Jeremy Bane. You called me this morning."
"Oh, thank God. Please, come in. I feel better knowing you're here."
Bane looked around the shelves and saw dozens of little statues, scented candles, gems and silverwork. None of it meant anything to him. "I went to Sue's house and peeked inside. Hard to explain what happened there. It looks as if hurricane winds only went in the one room."
"I haven't been there," Virginia said, plopping down behind the counter on a stool. She was wearing a loose blouse of heavy white cotton and dark jeans. "Sue didn't come in the store this morning. She's always here before nine. At ten-thirty I called her house and got no answer. Maybe I was being panicky but I phoned the town police and asked them to go look. And they told me what they found...."
"I've got all the details from the police," Bane said. "Do you know a man named Duke Jantzen?"
"Who? No. Not at all, why?"
"Just collecting information. What's going to happen to the store now?"
"Oh." Virginia sat up. "Sue's ex-husband is half-owner, they were on good terms and I think he'll keep it going. We make a decent profit."
As Bane stood there taking the store in, he noticed the wooden box in front of Virginia. Dark cherrywood, he decided. The ornate top showed a winged dragon arched in a circle, eating its own tail. "Ouroubourus," he said.
"Oh, that's the word, I couldn't remember." As Bane reached toward the box, she snatched it quickly away and held it to her. Her eyes flashed angrily. After a second, Virginia said, "It was a present from Sue. A gift. Naturally I want to hold onto it."
"Sure," said Bane. "I can understand that." He was looking at her right hand. Three fingers were heavily bandaged, with a spot of blood seeping through the forefinger. "What happened to your hand there?"
"What? Oh, that." She laughed uncomfortably. "I'm trying to do some silver crafting in the back and I'm hopeless. I have to give it up." The young woman glanced up at the Dire Wolf. "Do you think you can find out what happened to poor Sue? She never hurt anyone."
Bane tried to be reassuring, "I'll do everything I can. There's a Holiday Inn on 28 about ten miles from here. I'll stay there until everything is settled. You have my number."
"Thank you. I just realized we haven't discussed your fee. I don't have a lot of money, Mr Bane."
The Dire Wolf said, "Hand me a dollar, Virginia." She fished in her pocket and gave him a crumpled bill. "This is all we need," he said. "You are now my client and I am acting on your behalf. I promise you I will uncover whatever's going on."
"One dollar..?"
"For legal reasons. Now I can refuse questions from the police because I'm protecting my client. It gives me some leeway." Bane headed for the door. "Call me if you think of anything I need to know. I will check back with you soon."
"I will. Thanks, Take care." After he left, Virginia took the wooden box with her, pressing it to her body protectively. Sitting at a work bench littered with tiny tools, she took a long needle and began repeatedly piercing the ends of her fingers...
V.
Heading out of town, Bane turned everything over in his mind without reaching any conclusions. He turned left on Rte 28 and went past various gas stations and strip malls with restaurants and antique shops. To his right was a seedy looking building with a sign on a post, MOTEL 19. On impulse, he pulled through the parking lot looking for a black Nissan Altima. If he had good reason to suspect Duke Jantzen of anything, he would have starting checking every motel in the area to locate him, but he had nothing but his dislike of the man to support that. Almost back in Kingston, he eased off a traffic circle and checked into a Holiday Inn. Bane paid in cash for three days, inspected his room and dropped his knapsack on a chair. Tugging off the heavy full-length coat, he dropped it on the bed. The clock on the bedside radio said six-twenty PM. He used the bathroom, scrubbed his hands and face and came back out to immediately get his coat on again.
Bane walked to the inhouse restaurant and ordered a four-egg omelet with cheese, mushrooms and peppers, a side order of home fries and an iced tea. He devoured it all as if starving and felt he could easily have eaten another one. Paying and leaving through the lobby, he tugged on leather gloves and started up his car. He was uneasy for some reason about the way Virginia's fingers had been cut up. Something about the blood seeping through the bandages triggered an alarm in the back of his mind. Bane hurried back to Woodstock at just over the speed limit.
Most of the stores in Woodstock closed at five in the winter, and the wind chill meant the streets were deserted. He saw one young couple running from a doorway to a pick-up truck and that was it. It was just after seven. As he pulled up into the center of town, Bane spotted a black Nissan Altima coming out of Rock City Road and heading west, through the village toward Bearsville. He noted the license plate automatically but couldn't see how many people were in the car. For a second, he considered following the Nissan, the odds were good that Duke Jantzen was behind the wheel but he thought it was more important to check on Virginia. Bane pulled up into an empty spot next to the building, where a new Volkwagen stood, and got out. The store was still lit. All his instincts were warning him. Bane loosened his gun in its holster behind his left hip and checked the hilts of his matched silver daggers to be sure they were ready to be drawn. He walked up to SILVER MOUNTAIN GIFTS and saw that the door was ajar.
"Hello?" he called. "Virginia? It's me." The store was empty. Heart beating faster, he stepped through the door at the back and pushed it open. It was a small workshop with a bench and tools, supplies in cubbyhole shelves and some packing boxes. The place looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Loose papers and small items were scattered in all directions. Virginia Longendyke was on the floor, lying on her side. Bane knelt and pressed the back of his hand to her cheek. Not only was she cold, she was withered and dry as old parchment. Except for the black hair, the girl looked over a hundred years old. Her mouth gaped open wider than it should have and her eyes were rolled up in her head to show the whites.
Bane stood up and surveyed the scene, fixing every detail in his mind. Going back out into the store itself, he picked up the phone at the counter and called the police chief's number. "Hello? Tony? Yeah, it's Bane. I'm at the store SILVER MOUNTAIN GIFTS. There's been another death. Just like the Loughlin woman. Yes. I just walked in two seconds ago. I'll wait here."
That took care of the evening. Bane was detained at the store until eleven, going over every detail backwards and forwards. Then he had to go to the station while statements were typed up for him to sign. He had learned to take his time and read such documents carefully. He asked that two or three phrases be rewritten because they could be taken the wrong way, and the clerk retyped the four page document before Bane would sign it.
Left alone together in the office, Bane glanced up at the clock. Twenty to one in the morning. Chief DeCicco loosened his tie and undid the top button of his blue uniform shirt. "I'll be straight with you. We have to proceed as if you're a suspect. We can hold you as a person of interest in any case. But I know your record. The chief before me worked with you twice and I've read about the serial killers and maniacs you've captured. So you're free to go. Mostly because I know you won't be leaving the area until you nail whoever is behind this."
Bane nodded thoughtfully. As he got older, he was more inclined to take a second to gather his thoughts before speaking. "Three things strike me. One is the presence of Duke Jantzen in the area, with the possibility that Caleb Thorne may be with him. Thorne has got to be eighty by now but he was one of the top private investigators of modern times. Amazing mind. If he's working on this, it has the possibility of being big. Maybe your men can check all the local motels to see if they're registered."
"Sounds reasonable. What else?"
"Both Loughlin and Longendyke were acting odd just before their deaths. Loughlin had been going through seizures of laughing and crying during her last day. When I saw Longendyke, the fingers on her right hand were bandaged and bloody. I saw her body in that back room, the fingers had gotten worse. There was a long needle on the floor with blood on it. For some reason, she was piercing her own fingers repeatedly." Bane shrugged. "Might be a connection. Also, the last I saw of her, she was acting unusually possessive about a small wooden box. It has a carving of a dragon on its top. I reached to touch it and she snatched it up. It could contain drugs. Precious stones. Cash. No way to tell, but I didn't see that box anywhere in the store tonight."
DeCicco grinned beneath his thick mustache. "You've been playing this detective game for awhile, Jeremy. What's causing these deaths? Some secret government weapon? A super-laser or something?"
"No. I think it's the supernatural. Believe it or don't, I'm not going to try to convince anyone about the Midnight War. They usually see enough to become believers before it's over. Some sort of gralic effect is forcing all the fluids out of the victims in a few seconds. I don't know any more than that."
"I'm not laughing," DeCicco said. "My mother came from the old country. She told me about witches and haunts when I was a kid and I believed her. I'm a good Catholic boy and I know there are evil things that come out at night."
Bane stood up and stretched. "I'm going back to the Holiday Inn by the Thruway circle. You can reach me there. I need to think this over. Maybe we can stop a third death if we figure things out quickly." He headed for the door and DeCicco called out, "Keep us informed."
Out in the parking lot, the Dire Wolf started up his car. He was not tired in the least. Basically nocturnal in any case, his adrenalin was up now. He started out of town, headed for Rte 28 and swung left again. What was in that box? Had both women been killed for its contents? What drug was valuable enough that a small amount like that was worth murder? Could it hold diamonds? Thousand dollar bills in a tight roll? Bane growled almost inaudibly. Zipping past MOTEL 19, he spotted a man moving in the parking lot. At one in the morning at zero wind chill. Bane slowed down and abruptly swung over to enter the lot. It was definitely Duke Jantzen, walking in a clockwise circle over and over.
VI.
The Dire Wolf got out and watched from a distance. There was something frightening about the compulsive way the detective was circling and circling, head down and arms hanging at his sides. It looked unnatural. And both of the women had been acting weird just before they died...
Rushing up to the man, Bane yelled, "What ARE you doing? Duke! What's wrong with you?"
"Me? Nothing, I'm fine."
"You are walking in circles in the middle of night out in the cold," Bane said. "You are not fine. Stop it. Hold still."
"Hmmm, I don't think so." The detective kept moving, and Bane suddenly kicked the back of the man's left knee and shoved him down hard to the parking lot. He got on top and pinned the struggling man down. Jantzen was strong and hard to restrain, he rolled over before Bane could get an armlock and heaved up on his feet.
"Okay, be that way," said Bane. He whipped a right jab and a left cross that cracked with a whiplash noise. Jantzen's hat flew off his head and he dropped sideways to the freezing blacktop. Even stunned, his legs kept twitching. Bane glanced around to see if anyone was watching, but there were no faces in the darkened windows. Cabin number 6 was lit, the curtains slightly opened, and the Nissan was parked there. Bane bent and flung Jantzen across his shoulders in a fireman carry, bringing him toward that door.
As he got within reach, the door opened from within and he saw a man in a wheelchair roll out of the way. Bane hauled Jantzen inside and dropped him none too gently on one of the two single beds. "He should wake up soon," he said and turned to Thorne.
The master detective was almost unrecognizable now. Gone was the immense beer belly, the white beard, the imperious glare. In his early eighties, Caleb Thorne had shrunk to a bony little old man. He sat in the wheelchair in his pajamas, with a blanket over his lap. But the blue eyes in the sunken face were still sharp and alert. "Jeremy Bane! Duke said he encountered you. Thank you for bringing him inside. As you can see, I am in no condition to have gone out after him."
"Mr Thorne. It's been a long time. I gather you're working out of Albany these days?"
"Yes. I was tired of Manhattan. I even retired for a while, but Duke talked me into being his mentor. He's shrewd and tough, but he has no deductive skills. I hoped to make him into a first rate detective before I died." The old man shook his head. "Why was he acting like that? What's wrong with him?"
Bane glanced around the room. "Before we do anything else, did he bring a wooden box back with him?"
"Yes. It's there on the dresser. He said it was a gift."
Spotting the dark box with its carved dragon, Bane rushed into the bathroom and came out with two thick towels. Being careful not to touch the box with his hands, he wrapped it in one towel and then tightly tied another towel around the first. Placing the bundle in the bathroom, he closed the door. Only then did he relax a bit. He came back out and sat down in one of the chairs as Thorne watched.
"I think we're safe now," he said. "But I'm not an expert. All these years in the Midnight War, and I have only learned a fraction of what there is to know." Bane leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him, head down, and exhaled sharply.
Caleb Thorne wheeled himself closer. "Duke gave me a report before he started acting strangely. Those poor women. Why were they dessicated like that? Where did the winds come from?"
"I've been thinking it over all day," Bane answered. "There is something cursed in that box. I don't know what. Whoever claims the box soon starts acting funny. They go through irrational motions. Then dried-up death and the winds. My guess is that they open the box and this happens."
"It's hard to believe," Thorne said. "I'm a materialist. I like to think of myself as hard-headed. But these strange events..."
"I know. Whatever. Now I have to figure out what to do about that box. Certainly, I want to make sure no one opens it again." He got to his feet and looked down at the withered form of the great detective. "Hopefully, once the box is destroyed, Duke will snap out of it.."
In less than a second, Bane glimpsed movement on the bed from the corner of his eye. He whirled in a crouch but for once he was too late. The .45 blasted four shots at him, deafening in the small room, and the Dire Wolf took three of the bullets in the chest and stomach. The impact doubled him up and threw him back against Caleb Thorne. The wheelchair rolled across the room as the old man yelled in alarm.
Getting off the bed, Duke Jantzen pointed the automatic at Thorne. "Where is the gift? That box was a present for me. What did he do with it?"
Terrified, Thorne pointed at the bathroom and Duke ran in there, slamming the door closed behind him. He could be heard laughing in there.
With a groan, Bane sat up, rubbing his chest. He was having trouble catching his breath.
Thorne said, "I thought you were killed! How bad are the wounds?"
"I wear Trom armor," the Dire Wolf said, trying to get to his feet but failing. "It's great but some impact does get through. Last time I got shot, I had a cracked rib." He managed to get up on his knees and grabbed the back of a chair. "Whoa, that hurts. Duke took me by surprise."
From the bathroom, they heard Duke yell, "It's beautiful. A blue gem, blue like the sky. I can see-" His voice cut off with a scream. Blinding blue light glared out from under the door, casting shadows in the room, and a rushing sound like a train going by deafened them. Then came the silence.
VII.
It took a few minutes before Bane could walk. Despite his healing factor and the Trom armor, getting hit by three .45 slugs at close range was no joke. Painfully, he opened the bathroom door a crack and peered in. The box was closed. Towels and washclothes had been thrown around, and the dried shrivelled body of Duke Jantzen was on the floor.
"Don't look in there," he told Thorne. "You don't need to see that."
"Poor Duke. If only I could have stopped him, but..."
Bane straightened up and rubbed his chest gingerly. "There's a travel crystal in there. A blue gem he said, and blue light came out. That explains it. I have to act fast. Do you have a suitcase?"
"Yes. There by the door. Two of them."
"Good. I need to take one." Bane grabbed the smaller suitcase and dumped its contents on the bed. He took it in the bathroom and came back out immediately. "I've got the damn thing in here. I don't know how long I have before it affects me. Listen. Call 845 246-7789. Ask for DeCicco, Tony Decicco. He's the Woodstock police chief. I have to go." The Dire Wolf left the hotel room at a run, threw the suitcase in the trunk of his Subaru and peeled out of the parking lot. He headed toward Kingston at just over the speed limit. At two in the morning, there was almost no traffic. He headed north, trying to remember the local geography. It had been years since he was last here.
After ten minutes of driving, the pain in his chest eased up. Evidently, nothing was broken. He stopped impatiently at a red light, saw no police cars in sight and went through. Soon he was out toward Lake Katrine. This was barely familiar territory, he had only passed through here once. He turned right, down a winding road that opened onto a highway and saw a sign KINGSTON-RHINECLIFF BRIDGE 4 MILES. He headed that way.
Bane began to think he should stop by the side of the road. There were a lot of small rocks he could throw. Wait. What? Throw rocks? Yes, he felt throwing one rock after another was a good idea. It made sense. No, he thought, that's crazy. It's the effect of whatever is in that box. He slammed down the gas pedal and sped through the night. The urge to stop and throw rocks played in his head. Bane had to focus. He was doing 75. There was where his attention had to be. Slowing down to normal speed as he saw the toll booths ahead, and paused to get a slip which would have to be paid on the way back. Ahead, the bridge stretched out high over the Hudson River.
As he drove onto the bridge, Bane thought he understood the situation better. A travel crystal was in that box, like the ones he and his KDF team used to go to the adjacent realms. But theirs had been made by the immortal Eldarin and were reliable. He was guessing that the tiny crystal in that box had been crafted by a Human sorcerer and it had gone horribly wrong somehow. Instead of taking a person to another realm, the imperfect gem only opened access to the empty Void between the realms. Opening that box let in the Void. It was the best explanation he could think of...
What was he doing on this bridge? There were no rocks here to throw. Bane cursed out loud. Halfway across, he braked hard and turned off the engine. He was still thinking about throwing small rocks, one after the other. No. He jumped out and the freezing wind high over the river stung his face. Bane opened the trunk. He grabbed the heavy tire iron and wedged it into the narrow handle of the suitcase. It wouldn't do any good if the suitcase just floated. Quick as he could, before the influence would prevent him, Bane threw the suitcase far over the side railing and watched it fall. He heard the splash a few seconds later and he almost collapsed. A truck rolled by and the driver turned his head to look but didn't stop.
Bane suddenly felt exhausted. If he slumped down now, he wouldn't be able to get up again. Stiffly, he walked around and got behind the wheel again. Starting up the car, he put it in drive and finished crossing. At the other end, there was an open area beside the road and he pulled over. He needed to rest. Everything hurt. Bane remembered his Tel Shai training and started taking deep slow breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Clear the lungs, calm the mind. He leaned his head against the steering wheel. Then, against his will, he got out again. He bent and picked up a small rock. Bane shuddered violently and then dropped it. He had not the slightest urge to throw it. The gem in the box was at the bottom of the river, too far down to affect anyone. For the first time in years, he laughed out loud in sheer relief.
2/4/2014
