Evil Dark by Justin Gustainis Read Free Book Online Page A

"'Supefather' – that's cute. Well, I haven't met him yet, but I hear the new guy is a wizard named Victor Castle."
      I gave her half a smile of my own. " Castle ? Seriously?"
      "That's what he calls himself. I hear his birth name was Castellino, or something, but I guess that isn't dramatic enough. He's supposed to be pretty smart, even if he does seem to lack a sense of irony."
      "He and I need to have a conversation, I think. Where's he hang out – do you know?"
      She folded the Times-Tribune and stood up. I saw she was wearing her usual bedtime outfit – gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt that mocked a certain milk ad by asking, in red letters, "Got blood?"
      "I have no idea," she said. "But I'll ask around tonight, if you want. Maybe make a few calls."
      "I'd appreciate it. Thanks."
      She gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "See you at sundown."
      We'd agreed that saying "Good morning" as she went to sleep sounded stupid, so I said, "Goodnight, baby."
      I made some breakfast, ate it, and went to bed. That night, I hung out with Christine for a few hours until she left for her job as a 911 dispatcher. Then I did some laundry, put the trash out at the curb, and cleaned Quincey's cage. Quincey's my hamster, and a good listener. I told him about the Feebies and the nasty case they'd brought us, and he seemed interested. But maybe he just likes the sound of my voice. I'm glad somebody does.
      I killed a few more hours reading a book about a group of scientists who accidentally opened a portal to Hell. Some thoroughly bad shit ensued, as you might expect. The author claimed it was fiction, and I hoped he was right. We had too many people around with access to Hell as it was.
     
    On Thursday night I got to the squad room around 7.30pm. I was going through my emails when Karl came in and sat at his desk, which is pushed up against mine so they face each other. I looked up, and said, "Hi," and went back to my computer screen. Part of my mind must have noticed that Karl hadn't booted up his own computer because I raised my eyes again and found him looking at me, a strange expression on his face.
      "What?" I said.
      "I was talking to a CI of mine last night." Confidential informant is the official name for a snitch – somebody who'll pass on information in return for a favor, a few bucks, or just a chance to bank some good will with the cops.
      "You were working last night?" I said. "McGuire didn't OK any overtime, that I know of."
      "I wasn't working," Karl said. "I just ran into him over at Scavino's."
      Scavino's is a bar that attracts what you might call a mixed clientele. Humans, mostly, but some supes go there because nobody hassles them. Ed Scavino sees to that. He's married to a werewolf, which makes him tolerant by necessity, if not disposition.
      "Yeah, OK," I said. "So, you were talking to this guy, and…?"
      "And he told me about a whisper that's been making the rounds lately." Karl hesitated a second, which isn't like him. Then I found out why. "Word is, Sharkey's back."
      I give myself a little credit for my reaction – or lack of one. I didn't move a muscle for a good two or three seconds, except for my eyelids, which I couldn't stop from blinking rapidly. That happens when I'm scared.
      "Sharkey's dead," I said.
      "Yeah, I know," Karl said. "At least, I thought I did. But there was never a positive ID on his body, you know that. After the explosion, then the fire, what could you expect? The forensics guys didn't have a lot to work with."
      "He was seen going into that building, just before it blew. Nobody ever saw him come out." I don't know who I was trying to convince, Karl or myself.
      "Yeah – but, shit, getting in and out of places without being seen was Sharkey's specialty. He was like a fucking ninja, or something. That's why he got paid so much."
      "Being a dhampir probably helps with that," I said.
      "Yeah,