3.5. Black Magic Woman by John G. Hartness Read Free Book Online Page B

paint a portrait of Domino holding a Deadpool teddy bear, and I picked up an autographed Neil Gaiman print at the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund booth. We chatted with several of the webcomics creators, especially the Capes n’ Babes guy, because his strip has werewolves and vampires in it. What can I say; we’ve got a soft spot for our people. We were heading to the exit when we saw Shelton, the organizer of the convention, kneeling in an aisle with a tearful little boy. 
    “What’s wrong, Shelton?” I asked as we walked up. Shelton owned one of the coolest comic shops in the city, and Greg and I’d spent more hours and allowances than we cared to think about over the years. Shelton still looked almost like he did then, just a little more grey on top. We never asked how he stayed so young-looking, and he did us the same favor. I was almost certain there was nothing supernatural about his appearance, but just almost. And our youthful vigor certainly wasn’t the result of clean living. Or living at all, for that matter.
    “This young fella here has lost his dad. I’m going to go make an announcement.” 
    “We’ll take care of him while you do. This is our friend Sabrina, she’s a police officer.” Greg directed that last part to the kid, who looked at us with wide eyes. I wasn’t surprised. After all, Greg was wearing a lot of spandex and a cape, and Sabrina looked to be only wearing a big t-shirt, but she did produce a badge from somewhere in her costume. I was dressed normally, at least for me, in a leather duster, jeans, boots and a Faster Pussycat, Kill, Kill t-shirt. The kid was about eight or so, blonde with big blue eyes. I heard Shelton’s voice come over the loudspeaker, but nobody rushed over to claim the kid. Then I smelled it, the same scent I’d caught earlier. I still couldn’t place it, but knew that it didn’t come from any of the local nerds. That scent was definitely non-human. 
    “You smell that?” I asked Greg. 
    “Dude, did you…” He muttered back.
    “No, not that . The other smell. And that wasn’t me!” 
    “Oh, yeah, that smells weird. What is it?” 
    “If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked you, now would I?”
    “I don’t know, every once in a while you like to be the smart one.”
    “No, Gregory, I am well-adjusted to being the good-looking one while you are the smart one. Now do you know what that smell is?” 
    “No, but I can follow it.” And he did just that, wandering through the aisles in a seemingly random pattern that somehow felt anything but random. I motioned for Sabrina to stay with the boy and set out after my partner. Greg’s sniffer is so much better than mine it’s like comparing a bloodhound to a water buffalo with a head cold, so I just followed him until we came to a locked door well away from the rest of the convention. Greg looked back at me, I shrugged, and he reached over and yanked the knob right off of the door. 
    “That solves the pesky lock issue.” I said, opening the door and peering inside. I fumbled around for a light switch for a second, and then flipped on the fluorescents. It was an ordinary storage closet, about ten feet by fifteen feet. The only thing out of the ordinary was the guy passed out on the floor. He looked to be nearing sixty, white hair, a little jowly but in decent shape. I reached down and shook him gently. He jerked awake with a cry, pulling away from me and scooting on his butt to the wall. 
    “Leave me alone!” He yelled, but his voice came out thready, like he hadn’t had anything to drink in years. 
    “Hey fella, are you alright?” I asked, holding up both hands so he could see I was unarmed. That’s when I realized I wasn’t just making a show of it, I was really unarmed . I don’t usually go out without at least a small pistol strapped to my ankle, but the convention center had rules against that sort of thing, and a metal detector could have made my life very uncomfortable, so I left my guns