Chapter 10
The call went silent, as everyone in both vehicles considered the ramifications.
Natalia was the first to recover. She turned to me, eyes growing hard. "You will prepare another of your spells," she ordered.
"That won't work," I said, shaking my head.
"Why not?" the vampire asked, her tone growing dangerous again.
"Didn't you hear Winema?" I replied, gesturing to the phone. "The witch can sense when someone casts a spell at her."
"But it worked before—" Natalia began, before her eyes widened.
"She let it work before," I corrected. "The Reds had to know you'd try and find them. It was only a matter of time. So they picked an obvious location and waited. When the tracking spell connected, the witch sensed it. They waited for us to arrive, and sprung the trap."
Natalia cursed. "So we have no way of knowing where they are, or where they were headed." She lifted the phone back up. "How long until they can resume their curses?"
The phone crackled for a second before Winema replied. "I'm not entirely sure."
"What do you mean?" the warrior woman asked, seeming to grow tired of mortals failing her.
"I don't know, because I don't know how they're doing it," the hedge witch explained. "I saw the circle they had prepared in the basement, and I've reviewed the supplies. The circle was complicated, but not terribly so. Theoretically they could go anywhere and repeat the process. I don't know why they haven't, and I don't know how they're doing it."
"What do you mean how?" Elisa asked over the phone.
"Well, the witch is using vodou," Winema explained.
"Voodoo?" Natalia asked, sounding confused.
"Not exactly," Winema said. "There's different types and styles of hoodoo, voodoo, and vodou. Based on the spell I saw in the basement, and the supplies in the bag, the witch is practicing Haitian vodou, but with heavy elements of traditional hoodoo."
"There was a doll," Schaeffer said from the front seat.
"Yes, exactly," Winema said. "Using vodou, the witch bonded the samples of those killed with prepared dolls. Then she cast the blessing."
"Blessing?" Natalia said dangerously. "You call her curse a blessing?"
"That's what it was," Winema replied, her voice growing fearful. The cell phone crackled as her emotions spiked. "I reviewed what we found. There was nothing that indicated a curse. No sign of dark voodoo. There was only the traditional blessings."
"Blessings?" I asked, curious. I hadn't even known there was a difference between hoodoo and voodoo before that night. "What do you mean blessings?"
"Hoodoo is beneficial magic," Winema said. "Blessings for luck, health, love, fortune… nothing like what we've seen." Something in what she said caused Natalia to frown, but the vampire said nothing. "Like I said, I don't know how they're doing it."
"So what now?" Schaeffer asked. "They still have the samples. It's only a matter of time until they resume."
I looked at the clock, and wondered what was happening. Had they not had time to prepare another ritual site? Plenty of time had passed since their flight from the basement. Plenty of time to prepare a ritual circle. Maybe the woman's wounds were worse than we thought. But I'd seen the blood in the hallway as I'd left; there hadn't been much. Not enough for a mortal wound. Certainly not enough to kill her, and with some basic medical treatment, she'd be fine. Maybe the hour between spells was because it took that long to prepare, rather than a simply countdown.
"Winema," I said, drawing the eyes of the others in the car. "You saw the ritual circle. You said it wasn't that elaborate."
"It wasn't," she confirmed. "There was more to it than a simple circle, mostly using the ingredients to enhance the blessing."
"But the spell itself isn't complicated?"
"No," she confirmed.
So they had time. They had the witch. Any location would do. Which meant…
"The ingredients," I said.
"What about them?" Winema asked.
"The ingredients for the spell."
"I've reviewed them," Winema said, and I heard a shuffling from the other end of the phone. "She had dolls, gris-gris, incense, oils, and—" She stopped as she realized what I was saying. "The ingredients."
"What?" Natalia asked, confused and frustrated as she frowned down at the phone.
"The ingredients," Winema said, her tone growing excited. "Don't you see? The witch had the bag and the box. But Woody's spear cut the bag. They've got the samples, but they don't have the ingredients needed for the spell."
"Are they that important?" Anya asked.
"For the amount of power they're channeling, yes," Winema confirmed. "For a regular hoodoo doll, you don't need any of that. Just the doll, and the things to tie it to the target. Clothing, pictures, hair. That's it. But if they're using that circle for a hoodoo doll, then they're sending a lot of power into the spell. They need this stuff."
"Well, they can't have it," Natalia snapped. I wondered if she was trying to be funny.
"Then where can they get more?" Anya asked quickly.
"Beneath us," I said softly. Natalia turned to me just as Winema said, "Of course!"
When they didn't get it, I pointed own. "We're about a block away from the Undertown Market."
Natalia practically glowed as she realized what I meant. "I will alert the others. We will move on the Market immediately." She hung up and started dialing numbers.
"What is it?" Schaeffer asked softly, confused.
"The witch needs more supplies for the curse," I explained. "There are plenty of places in Chicago where you could find stuff for spells, but at this time of night, there's only one place you could find all of it. And they happened to be heading that way when they broke the tracking spell."
Schaeffer nodded. "The Undertown Market."
I nodded as well. "Looks like we're going shopping."
In downtown Chicago, just inside the northern end of the Loop, there's a busy city block with several buildings clustered together, sporting dozens of chain stores, specialty shops, restaurants, pubs, and even a hotel. Unlike other blocks that have exterior facing shops, this one also has an entire multi-story indoor mall. Some of the shops are for tourists; others are strictly for a local client base. The building is beside a stop for the elevated tracks, and has subway access beneath the lower level.
But beneath all of that, conveniently tucked away in forgotten places, lives the Undertown Market.
Undertown isn't necessarily just one place. It's a collection of places all across the city. Most are linked together one way or another. Some are isolated islands, where surrounding renovations have left pockets of cozy dens. Others are nothing more than rarely-visited sewers, whose occupants keep things running smoothly to prevent humans from traipsing about. And should the occupants get hungry, they can always clog a pipe to order in a maintenance worker or two.
One of the most well kept places in Undertown is the Market. It's in an abandoned level of the same mall that sits above. When the city renovated the subway lines, their idea for a level of subterranean stores was abandoned. In time, the entire project was forgotten, closed off behind concrete walls.
But just because humanity might have forgotten about something doesn't mean it doesn't exist.
Ten minutes and a phone-call after we'd realized where the witch was most likely headed, a number of us made our way through the tunnels to the Undertown Market.
It's easy as long as you know which Subway stop to visit, and then which tunnel to take. There's a door no-one uses, that most assume is locked, that leads further down. A few twists and turns later, you find yourself at one of nearly a dozen entrances to the Market.
The place isn't well lit. There are lights where shop owners want lights; if they don't want to sell to anyone or anything that can't see in the dark, there's no lights. Some vendors sell out of nothing more than a pilfered street cart. Others have stands where they sell wares over the counter. A few have full stores you can browse in, but don't even think about shop-lifting; almost all of them have several layers of natural and unnatural security, and aren't squeamish about taking a blood price for any offense.
"Where do we start?" Natalia asked, looking to Winema. Our party had joined up and headed down together. The hedge witch was busy copying things down. When she finished, she looked up, holding the paper.
"Here are the things that were in the bag," she said breathlessly. "I can cast a copying spell that will copy the list to another page, and then it'll create two more. But we'll need to get them to the others—" she said, but Natalia snatched the paper from her hand and looked it over.
A second later, she removed her cell phone and took a picture. Winema looked bewildered as the vampire typed away at an incredible speed. After a few seconds, she hit send, and handed the page back to the witch.
"Picture message," I explained to the witch as Natalia started walking away, leading her team of foot soldiers. Winema just turned to me and nodded dumbly, the idea of using technology a foreign idea to a hedge witch who's powers were too much for most gadgets to survive long.
We started making our way through the Undertown Market, sweeping over every stall, as other teams made their way in from the other entrances.
The problem with the Market is that it's fairly large, with multiple hallways and branches that circle back around. There's a main thoroughfare with a lot of shops, but no single open floorspace you can walk through and see everything. Which meant that we had to leave several men at each entrance, watching for the Dapper twins as they came or went.
We made our way through the tunnels. Each guard and vamp showed their list to each vendor, inquiring if anyone had purchased the items that evening. With each negative answer, we grew more worried, while also tightening the net.
I was sticking close to a guard named Hennesy, who seemed like a big enough fellow that I could hide behind if bad things started happening. The big guy might have been irritated by my shadowing his steps, but it meant that I heard it first hand when someone reported on their radio that they'd found a seller.
"Confirmed sale to three individuals matching the description," a guard said. He gave his location, and the rest of us made for the seller.
As I cut through the crowd, a familiar face appeared.
"There ye are," Bailey huffed, his long Fear Dearg snout twitching agitatedly. "I've been lookin' all over for ye."
I sighed in relief at the sight of him. I'd called Q before we'd set out for the Market, hoping he'd be able to reach the Fear Dearg and get him there in time.
The Fear Dearg are beings of faerie. The one I knew favored red vests and bowler caps, but while the color was a personal taste, the ensemble wasn't. The Dearg were somewhat related to Leprechauns, although they seemed equally related to giant sewer rats.
As a race, they all sported long snouts that resembled a rodent's rather than something humanoid. Their eyes were a little too beady, and their ears large and pointed. Bailey had started to keep his nails fairly well trimmed since I'd met him, but they were reminiscent of claws. He'd also started combing his hair and thin gray body fur.
It wasn't that I'd instilled some sense of cleanliness or hygiene in him. I'd simply told him that most people and things would be more willing to haggle and sell if they weren't so busy trying to escape his stench. As a sound business practice, it made sense to the Fear Dearg, although he still wasn't what I'd call fresh.
His long this tail lashed in an agitated fashion as he cut me off. "We agreed I'd have him fer the week," he grumbled as an orange and red salamander leapt from his shoulder to mine.
Sal, who was aptly named by yours truly at a young age, was a fire elemental. While he resembled your typical salamander, the natural breed didn't typically spit fire or grow to the size of a doberman when they got mad.
I stroked the chin of the small amphibian, who's pleased trill seemed louder than usual.
"Sorry," I told the Fear Dearg, who's face was scrunched up in what he'd call a furious scowl, but really just made him look rabid. "Something's come up, and I need backup."
The little guy, who was over a foot shorter than me, seemed to somehow be looking down disapprovingly at me as he fished Sal's snakewood box from one of his infinite vest pockets and passed it to me. "Well, don't expect me te pay the full amount."
"That's between you two," I said. "You're paying him, not me."
"But I thought ye wanted the Mímameiðr wood?" he asked, confused.
"What? No, Sal wants it," I explained. "Q told him it was fire resistant and incredibly durable. He wants to make a new box." I waived the small snakewood box, no bigger than a pack of cigarettes. "I just wanted to buy more fire crystals from you."
The Fear Dearg was the friend who I'd seen using magically crafted crystals as weapons. He had originally bought them from others, but when he learned how to make them himself, he'd started supplying me. He'd hired Sal to help him fuel fire crystals, and the salamander had been staying with him for a few days.
"If you want, you can have him back tomorrow," I assured the Fear Dearg as I stepped around him to catch up with the others.
A pleading trill sounded in my ear, and I shot a startled glance at the little salamander. I couldn't understand him like Q claimed, but I'd learned to pick up a meaning here or there. "That is, if we survive," I added. The thought that he might perish before resuming his time with Bailey seemed to relieve the salamander.
"But what about me crystals?!" Bailey shouted as he chased after me. "The one we were workin' on aren't finished! They won't last the night!"
"I'll contact you tomorrow!" I assured him as he gave up the chase.
"Bloody shitehawk!" he called after me. "Ye better do me right!"
Sal gave another relieved trill as Bailey fell behind, and I gave him a worried glance. "You know you don't have to stay with him. We can work something else out."
The salamander shook himself, like a dog drying after a bath. I took it to mean he was trying to put the experience of living with Bailey behind him.
Sal clung tight to my jacket as I ran, and a minute later we were at the Mr. Whisker's booth.
A cat-girl turned out to be the seller. She wasn't actually part cat — I don't think — but she dressed up like one, and supposedly worked for a malk. Since none of the dangerous denizens of Undertown messed with the girl, I assumed the malk was not to trifled with.
Said malk wasn't present when I arrived, but Natalia and the others had just finished questioning the girl. Anya was there and glanced my way, and then turned and headed down another tunnel as the others all fanned out.
"They're here," Natalia hissed, her eyes looking around. "They apparently have most of what they need. According to the girl, the only person that has the oils she needs is a gargoyle. His shop is somewhere that way."
She took off, blindingly fast, with the guards trailing after her.
"Are you talking about Grend?" I asked the cat girl.
She just nodded, her cat ear headband bobbing up and down.
"Wait, I know where it is," I shouted after the others. "There's a faster way!"
If the guards heard me, they didn't let it be known. They continued on after the vampire, leaving me alone and cursing.
With a shake of my head, I took off the other way, as Sal climbed down into the outer breast pocket of my jacket and into his snakewood box.
I'd met Grend several years earlier. He looked exactly like you'd imagine a gargoyle to look like. He was also one of the rare supernatural creatures that could lie through their stone teeth. He was a fierce haggler, in that he took so long to speak that you'd end up just giving him what he wanted to cut the conversation ten minutes short.
Grend preferred privacy for his business, and had located his shop down an abandoned tunnel. He had a large storage space to himself, but getting there meant journeying down a convoluted path. That was where Natalia and the others were headed.
But as we'd grown acquainted, Grend confided in me that there was a faster way to his shop. Not many people knew about it because the gargoyle had built it himself with his proficiency at earth magics. If you knew which column to slide around, and which blind corner to back blindly down, you could get there several minutes faster.
Sal and I darted around the sparse crowd of night-time buyers and sellers, while the salamander trilled a warning to those who weren't moving fast enough. He seemed to be having fun, and I figured I'd need to tell him just how deep I was up shit's creek before too long.
In no time, we were in the secret path leading to Grend's place. After a jump over a gaping hole above subway tracks and a shimmy around a narrow ledge over a sewer junction, we found ourselves at the metal door that opened onto his tunnel. When I pushed it open and stepped out, I saw the familiar stone counter where Grend sold his products only a few paces away.
Standing in front of said counter was the Dapper Woman and the witch, both of which turned my way as I skidded to a stop.
Standing much closer to me, his arm flickering as he brought his razor sharp sword to my throat, was the Dapper Man.
"Well, well, well," he said, his Hispanic accent making him sound friendly. His smile was bright and wide as I froze, barely stopping in time to keep from decapitating myself. "You survived."
His smile darkened as it turned into a sneer.
"Allow me to correct that."