A Cold Day In Hell. Stella Cameron
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got to do what Chuzah said, but I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Sonny said. Angel only recalled one other time when the boy admitted to fear. That had been on the night his father—a gutsy guy who went against the family—died.
“That Locum is a shape-shifter, isn’t he?” Eileen asked, and jumped. A rattling noise reached her, growing louder.
“What’s a shape-shifter?”
“Never mind,” Angel said. He listened to the eerie sounds.
“Don’t worry about that,” Sonny said. “It’s just Chuzah sending a signal to Locum—I think.”
“That’s it,” Eileen said, shaking away from Angel. She ran, as best she could, toward the lights strung somewhere high in the trees ahead.
Angel took off after her and said, “She’s got a gun,” over his shoulder.
Eileen couldn’t stop crying. She sniffed, swiped at her face. “I’ve got to hold myself together,” she muttered, and skidded to a halt, her mouth open.
She had broken into a clearing, a clearing just big enough for a large wooden cabin built on stilts about six feet tall. No, the clearing was bigger than it had seemed at first. Around the structure, there was enough space for a shed, on shorter stilts, what looked like a carport, and a row of lockers. Sure enough, the roof on the cabin was strung with unevenly looped, multicolored lights. Four small windows in the front were covered with patterned curtains and a faint glow showed from inside.
A hand on her shoulder all but sent her to her knees. “It’s just us,” Angel said into her ear. “Put the gun out of sight. Quickly.”
She sighed, but put the Glock in her purse. “Where’s the wolf?” she said.
He stroked her back. “There’s no wolf.”
“Don’t you try to tell me I was imaging things,” she told him. “You saw it, too.”
Sonny moaned.
“I’m going up there,” Eileen said and went to the bottom of a sturdy-enough flight of stairs. She stopped and covered her face. Through her fingers she saw a big gray animal, a dog with silver eyes, standing halfway up the flight. He had huge teeth and she could see every one of them. “Help.” She mouthed the word but didn’t hear a sound. “Help!” Still she couldn’t hear her own voice.
The shack door flow open. “Aha,” a great voice, a very deep, right from the boots voice, called. “You would be Eileen, perhaps?”
She nodded. “Where’s my son?”
“Are you, Chuzah?” Angel asked. “Sonny’s told us about you. Sounds like we owe you.”
The keeper of the major voice appeared in the doorway and spread his arms. A rope of bones and bells clanged and clacked around his neck.
“Welcome, welcome. My humble home is your humble home. If you see what I mean. You come in. We been waitin’ for you. They here, Aaron, and they look like they been seeing ghosts. There’s that quiet boy, too. You come on up, quiet boy. Chuzah, he don’t bite.” He threw back his head and laughed, showing two rows of gleaming teeth.
Eileen pursed her lips and started to climb. The dog didn’t move.
“Locum,” Chuzah said, “you get your sorry ass up these steps and get in the house. You ain’t nothin’ but a poser. Fierce? You don’t know about fierce. You embarrass me. Excuse him, please.”
The dog’s mouth took on what looked like a smile and he tootled up and inside, looking back once with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and, Eileen was almost certain, giving her a wink.
“You three takin’ your time,” Chuzah hollered. “We gettin’ tired of waitin’.” He whirled one hand above his head in an exaggerated queenly wave. A turban and billowing kaftan, both in a Hawaiian print featuring palm trees and hula dancers in grass skirts, and nothing else set off his black skin. “You like my seasonal decorations? In your honor. I don’t get many guests around here.” He swept back inside.
“Up we go,” Angel said, but before either of them could move, Sonny passed them, taking two steps at a time.
Chuzah’s laughter spilled from inside the cabin. Angel and Eileen gave each other a final look and walked through the door, which slammed hard behind them under the master of the house’s foot. His long, well-shaped bare foot.
“Here we are,” he said, rocking onto his heels. “I am Chuzah, and this is my friend, Locum. My assistant. Like a locum tenens, he takes over my practice when I am forced to leave for a while. And I must be forced, I assure you, because this man don’t want to go nowhere but right here.”
“Sir,” Eileen said. She couldn’t handle this politely anymore. “Where is my son?”
“All in good time, madam,” Chuzah said. “All in good time.”
A would-be Shakespeare thespian in a Hawaiian-print getup.
An altar took center stage, at least Angel thought it was an altar. Lit by many candles, giving off a variety of questionable odors, the tall, gilded base stood in the center of the room with a screen about a foot high on top. The screen, gold and enamel, stood open and Angel couldn’t begin to figure out the heavy load of items in front. He did note sticks of incense burning. He saw no reason to go closer.
There was nothing rustic about the furnishings—other than the oil lamps. Soft suede furniture in deep red invited you to sit or lie. Green and gold rugs covered the floor.
Root doctoring had to be paying better than Angel would have thought.
“Right this way,” Chuzah said and Angel stared at him. “You want to see the other boy, of course. Master Aaron, the curious. What amazement, discovering the depths to which an inquisitive youth will sink in order to investigate what he has no right to know about.”
Angel closed his mouth.
Chuzah walked on the balls of his feet to a door at the back of the room. He opened it gently and put his head inside. “We got company, boy. You put on your best face and make me proud, y’hear?”
Eileen didn’t dare to look at the other two. The gray dog returned, a wooden bowl in his mouth. This, he pushed at Angel.
“Water,” Chuzah said, flicking his fingers. “The dog, he need water.”
“Weimaraner,” Angel said. “Just remembered what he is. I’ve only seen a couple before. He’s a beautiful guy.” He took the bowl and looked around for a source of water.
“He has a large ego,” Chuzah said. “Do nothing to inflate his head. You’ll find water in there.” He indicated another door.
Eileen lowered her head, marched directly to the second door and passed Chuzah. She made it three steps into the room and stopped. “Aaron Moggeridge. What are you doing? You scared me out of my mind.”
“Mom—”
“No, don’t say a word. Be absolutely quiet while I take this in.”
“Mom—”
“One more word and I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
“Eileen?” Still holding the dog’s empty dish, Angel came into the room and had to fight not to laugh. “There you are, Aaron. Having a rough time, I see.”
Propped against multicolored silk pillows on a fluffy divan, Aaron wore a robe not dissimilar from Chuzah’s. As usual, his curly black hair was pulled into a tail at his nape. True, his eyes looked huge and very dark in his unusually pale face, but apparently he felt well enough to eat chocolates out of a huge box.
“Shee-it,” Sonny muttered. “I tell ya, last time I saw him he was dyin’.”
“Dramatist,” Chuzah said, examining incredibly long, curved nails with silver tips.