The Year of the Salamander - 15. Chapter 15

He came home in less than an hour, ignoring a very bizarre smell of smoky apples in his car. He didn’t even notice it.

“Kid!” he called loudly when he walked inside the house. “Kid...! Sam!”

He was greeted by silence, and then the dog walked into the living room, his expression cautious, tail jerking weakly in a small wag attempt. Desmond looked at him with a small frown.

“Where is your master?” he asked quietly, and the dog just blinked at that. “Great,” Desmond sighed. “I am talking to a dog... That’s just great...”

He went into Sam’s room, knowing that it would be empty, but he decided to look there anyway. Maybe he went back to sleep after Desmond left... He pushed the door open and sighed again. The bed was neatly made and the room was empty. Desmond cursed under his breath, shut the door, and whipped his phone out of the pocket.

“Rayhe!” he said sharply a minute later into the phone. “Have you looked in the database...? Then get off your ass and bloody do it! I have my reasons to yell... Come home for lunch,” he closed his eyes briefly and rubbed his temple with his phone-free hand. “Yes, there is something, and no, I am not discussing it over the phone. Yes, Gabriel, it is serious... How serious?” He opened his eyes and walked to the kitchen. “Well,” he slid open the glass door and went into the back yard. The dog watched him warily, as if expecting some nasty trick. “On the scale of seriousness from one to ten, I’d say it’s eighty-five...”

He sat into one of the back porch chairs and lit a cigarette, leaving the glass door open. The dog walked outside, throwing cautious glances at him. Desmond ignored that.

“Uh huh,” he said after a minute. “What time is your lunch? Okay, I’ll see you at noon.”

He turned off the phone and shoved it into his pocket. The dog walked closer and he had a ball in his mouth. He stood safely at a distance, just in case, his tail jerking more rapidly.

“Give me the damn ball, mutt,” Desmond said tiredly. “Just give it to me...” he stretched out his hand when the dog just stood there.

Finally, he walked a little closer and dropped the ball into Desmond’s outstretched hand. Desmond threw the ball, and the dog immediately took off after it. Desmond waited for him to come back, replaying in his mind everything Tess told him an hour earlier.

“Bloody hell...” he muttered and threw the ball again. “Maybe it’s nothing...” Another throw. “Maybe there is someone else...” Another swing and throw. “Several people could share the same birthday after all... God knows how many would be turning twenty-three on that particular date...” Another throw and happy bark out of the dog. “Crap, I need to ask Tess if there is something else, like time of birth or something...” Another throw. “Some other crap, like stars position or...” Another throw and an admiring yelp from the dog. “Yeah, except how the hell would I know any of that? Ah, goddammit...” he growled and threw the ball again.

...Gabriel came home at 12:15 in the afternoon, looked around with a small frown when nobody was in sight, and was about to yell for Desmond, when he heard a very excited bark from the back yard. He went into the kitchen, noting that the glass door was open, and then he just stood there, frozen, blinking rapidly. Desmond was sitting in the chair, his back towards the door, and he was playing ball with Specter. Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut for several seconds, shook his head, and opened his eyes. The picture remained the same. He was about to pinch himself on the arm, when Desmond said without turning around:

“Stop gawking, come out, close the door, and sit down.”

Gabriel slowly stepped outside and closed the door. He pulled another chair closer to Desmond’s and sat down. Desmond threw the ball, causing the dog to take off immediately, and threw a pack of cigarettes at Gabriel. Rayhe caught it with one hand, pulled one cigarette out, and caught the lighter Desmond tossed at him, right before it smacked into his forehead.

“What?” he asked a couple ball-throws later, when Desmond wouldn’t say anything.

Desmond sighed and looked at him. Then he told him everything. Gabriel listened to him silently, dragging on his cigarette once in a while. Finally, after Desmond finished talking, he let out low, uncertain laughter.

“The Old Ones?” he said and stabbed his cigarette in the ashtray. “Des, come on... It’s a myth!”

“Not according to Tess,” Desmond said gloomily and threw the ball again. “And believe me when I say it...” He watched the dog pounce on the ball for God knows what time. “Tess knows her myths from reality. If she says it’s true...” he threw the ball one last time and got up. “...it’s true,” he finished. “I am going for a drive,” he said and went inside.

Gabriel followed him, and so did the dog.

“Did you look up the name?” Desmond said, digging in the fridge.

“I did,” Gabriel nodded. “There is someone named Evelienne Grey; she is twenty-one, a history major in the Oakland University. She took a school loan a year ago.”

“Huh,” Desmond said thoughtfully, and finally, found a bottle of water. He slammed the fridge door shut and straightened up. “Well,” he muttered. “I guess this end is clear then. Did you have the picture?” He glanced at Gabriel through his eyelashes.

“Des,” Rayhe sighed. “I already told you, we are not militia headquarters. We do not make our customers to submit a photograph, a set of fingerprints, and a DNA sample before we open an account for them, okay?”

“I take it as a no on the picture then,” Desmond nodded. “I’m gonna call Sam...” he muttered and set his water on the top of the fridge.

“Hold on,” Gabriel said quickly when Desmond pulled out his phone. “What are you gonna tell him? ‘Sam, there is a good chance that you might end up being targeted as a sacrifice to bring back one of the old gods on Winter Equinox’?”

Desmond blinked at that and slightly lowered his phone.

“Would you believe something like that if you were him?” Gabriel continued. “Even if he will believe it, then what? It will only freak him out... We need to find out everything before we freak him out, okay? Talk to Tess again; see if there is anything else... It might not even be him, for all we know.”

“I’m gonna tell him to get his ass home no later than nine-thirty every night then,” Desmond said gloomily. “From today until February fifteenth, he has a curfew!”

“Uh huh,” Gabriel nodded firmly. “That’ll fly. Plus, even if someone is targeting him, do you seriously believe they would only do it after ten in the evening? Des, don’t call him,” he commanded after Desmond wouldn’t put his phone away. “Just go for a drive, clear your head, try not to kill anyone while you are at it, and if you get a speeding ticket, you are the one paying it and not me, like the last time.”

“You paid it that time because it was your fault,” Desmond said tiredly and put the phone away.

“You were going three times over the speed limit!”

“And if you wouldn’t stick your finger in front of my nose for no reason, I wouldn’t swerve,” Desmond nodded, and Rayhe narrowed his eyes.

“I was trying to point out the speedometer to you,” he said evenly. “I was afraid that you forgot what it looked like...”

“It was your fault, that’s why you paid the ticket,” Desmond nodded again. “Fine, I won’t call him. Rayhe, how much do you know about magic?”

“Enough for me to get by,” Gabriel shrugged. “Not enough to be brilliant by any means.”

“Would you be able to sense if something was off magic-wise? For example, if Sam comes home with some spell smeared all over him?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel shook his head slowly. “I might be able to, but I don’t know.”

“Well, do a check-up on him once he shows up at home tonight,” Desmond sighed and looked into his pack of cigarettes. “I’ll see you later, Rayhe...”

“Des...” Gabriel called again when Desmond was by the front door. “Don’t call him,” he said when he got a questioning look.

Desmond didn’t say anything; he slid his sunglasses on and left the house.

****

He drove for two hours, just flying down different highways, taking random exits without any particular destination in mind. Finally, he glanced at the car clock and started making his way back into the city. He didn’t even need to look around and figure out where he was; he simply drove through the cement labyrinth of the highways without as much as glancing at the signs. It was as if he had a map in his head and he never even paused to make sure he was driving the right direction. He made it back into the city by five in the evening and headed straight to the city library.

He spent several hours there, staring into the computer screen, his fingers flying all over the keyboard. He was searching for the books on the subject of the old gods. Most material he found was located in the myth section, and he discarded that immediately. Finally, he found a couple of titles that were located in the ancient magic history section. He looked at the titles and the numbers for several seconds, imprinting them in his memory, nodded slightly to himself, and went upstairs.

It took him almost an hour to finally find those books. He was swearing softly the entire time. The section was completely out of order, as if alphabetizing and such never even happened in this particular section. Finally, he got both very old and thick volumes, went to the nearest desk, and switched on the table lamp. He impatiently flipped through the pages that described each divinity, and found the chapters dedicated to the sacrificial rituals. He frowned and chewed on his lower lip, scanning the pages with his eyes. Neither book gave a definitive answer or description; the entire matter was described in very vague, uncertain terms that were no help whatsoever. The only thing Desmond got out of the books was the fact that the sacrifice had to be made at 14:17 sharp; it had to be done with a certain type dagger; and it also said that the subject of the sacrifice had to be ‘prepared’ in advance.

“Prepared...” Desmond muttered. “What the hell does that mean?”

He flipped through several more pages, looking for the explanation, and when he got to the right page, he swore very loudly and with twisted imagination. The pages describing the ‘preparation’ were gone. It seemed they were ripped out of the book. Desmond feverishly flipped through the second volume, just to find the exact same thing.

“Goddammit!” he said loudly and slammed the book on the desk.

He sat there for several minutes, and then grabbed both books and went downstairs.

“Oh, you can’t check those out,” the woman behind the checkout counter said the minute she saw the books. “Those are very rare; we don’t let them to leave the premises. You have to study them...”

“There are some pages missing,” Desmond interrupted her impatiently. “Looks like someone ripped them out. Any way to find out what was on those pages?”

“Ripped them out?” the woman repeated incredulously. “Are you sure they didn’t just stick together? Those are very old books...”

Desmond closed his eyes when he felt an urge to kill.

“I am sure,” he said evenly. “In the first volume it’s the pages 638 through 640; in the second one it’s 574 through 576.”

The woman blinked at that and flipped through the pages in both books. When she realized that Desmond was right, her expression was almost terrified.

“Oh my God...” she said slowly.

“What?” Desmond asked tightly. “Do you know what was on those pages? Is it some sort of highly dangerous information? You look...”

“These books are extremely rare!” the woman wailed suddenly, and Desmond had to restrain himself from doing her bodily harm. “How could someone do such a thing? These books are antique...! These books are...”

“Do you know...” Desmond tried saying, but she didn’t even listen to him.

“...despicable...!” she wailed. “This is worse than any crime...! This is...”

“Shut up!” Desmond barked, and she stopped wailing, her eyes huge, fixed on Desmond’s face. “Please,” he said in somewhat calmer voice. “Do you know what was on those pages?”

She blinked and looked at the titles of the books.

“These are just mythology facts,” she said, sniffling, and Desmond let out a very heavy sigh.

“Right,” he muttered. “Never mind... Sorry for your loss,” he added before leaving the library.

The woman looked like someone who just found out her beloved ones died from some mysterious disease. Desmond walked outside and lit a cigarette. He smoked for several minutes, leaning onto his car, thinking. Finally, he flicked the cigarette away, got into his car, and went for another drive.

****

He drove until it was dark outside. Finally, he sighed and decided that he wasted enough gasoline for today, and that he’d better find a gas station before heading home. He took the nearest exit and drove down the dark road, looking for a gas station. Finally, he saw a flickering sign farther ahead, and right then, the car chimed at him softly. He glanced at the gas meter and swore quite loudly. There was a very good chance he wouldn’t make it to the gas station. He glanced around and saw a little dark street. His inner map immediately drew a picture of a shortcut, and Desmond turned into that street.

The car was chiming nonstop, and several minutes later, Desmond realized to his greatest frustration that the damn street was nothing but a dead-end.

“Goddamn son of a...” he hissed and tried turning around. Right when he jerked the wheel, the car meowed desperately, and came to a dead stop. “Crap...” Desmond said with great feeling.