Pay Dirt (Lost Falls Book 2) Read online

  PAY DIRT

  Lost Falls, Book 2

  by Chris Underwood

  Copyright © 2018 Chris Underwood

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, and locales are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons is entirely coincidental.

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  1

  It took me all damn day, but I finally tracked down that thieving bastard of a ghoul. When I got my hands on him I was going to wring his scrawny little neck.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’m a reasonable guy. Or I can do a good impression of one, at least. If you come to me, shaking and sweating and claiming that you’re cursed, I’ll do what I can to help. It’s my job, after all.

  But if, when my back is turned, you swipe my kelpie-hoof fetish—one of the most valuable things in my kit—then I’m not such a nice guy.

  Then I’ll hunt your ass down.

  Luckily, the ghoul had left enough of himself behind that I was able to brew up a weak tracking potion. He’d led me on a merry chase, but I was finally closing in on him.

  Grunting and swearing, I clambered over the tall chain-link fence that surrounded the train graveyard. Barbed wire topped the fence, but I’d thrown a towel over it, which meant I was only partially eviscerated as I clambered over and dropped down into the high grass on the other side.

  The sun was sinking below the hills, turning the sky an angry red. It suited my mood perfectly. Grinding my teeth, I held up my tracking talisman and stomped along in the direction it swung.

  The ground beneath my feet was scattered with dirt and gravel. The whole place was overgrown with weeds high enough that I could chew on them as I walked. The talisman pointed right at the mass of rusted old freight cars and run-down buildings at the far end of the train yard.

  I should’ve known. A lot of young, broke ghouls called this place home. It had been carefully erased from the tourist maps, and a few warding posts and stacked stones around the outskirts of the train graveyard kept away all but the most persistent Unaware visitors.

  I put away my talisman—it wasn’t precise enough to be of any more use. Time to do this the old-fashioned way. I found a rusted rail line that cut through the weeds and followed it toward the depot.

  This place had been abandoned since before I was born. Once, it fed all the rail lines that wound through the mountains. But now those mountains had been mined bare, and when the company went bust this depot became a graveyard.

  Dozens of freight cars and engines sat crowded together on the tracks, weeds growing up around them. The cranes were rusted all to hell, and the scattering of buildings that serviced the depot were faded and falling apart, most of the windows long since smashed.

  But that didn’t mean this place was empty. Far from it.

  In the fading light I spotted a trio of young ghouls sitting on top of one of the freight cars, their legs dangling over the edge. Most people probably wouldn’t have realized they were ghouls, of course. To the untrained eye, they looked like scruffy teenagers up to no good. Talk-back radio would’ve called them “youths” in the usual pearl-clutching tone.

  There were two girls and a boy, all of them dressed in hoodies and jeans with holes in the knees, and all so gaunt I wondered how they had the strength to clamber onto the top of the train car.

  It was their eyes that gave them away. They twitched about, never stopping for a moment. And behind those eyes, a look of endless hunger.

  They grew silent as I approached. None of them were the ghoul I was looking for, but if he’d come this way they would’ve seen him.

  One of the girls was chewing on something. She slipped it behind her back when she saw me approach, but not before I got a look at it. A plastic biological specimen bag, probably from the local hospital. Inside was a bloody mass that looked an awful lot like a chunk of human intestine.

  My stomach turned, but I fought down the queasiness. It wasn’t like the ghouls could help what they were.

  Ghouls eat dead flesh. Preferably human flesh, although at a pinch they’ll snack on goblin or some other dead sentient. Pork just doesn’t do it for them. Don’t ask me why.

  But of course, dead human flesh isn’t that easy to come by, at least not for ghouls wanting to stay under the radar. They have to take what they can get. Sometimes that means hospital medical waste, the kind of stuff that’s supposed to be incinerated.

  Bear that in mind, if you ever find yourself getting a toe amputated in Lost Falls. That toe might just find its way into a ghoul’s lunch box.

  I stopped in front of the freight car and looked up at the three ghouls. The girl was still chewing. Something black was dripping down her chin.

  I pointed. “You got a little something there.”

  She just kept chewing.

  “What do you want?” the boy snapped. “You don’t belong here.”

  “I’m looking for someone.”

  “Keep looking, then.”

  I grinned. Kids these days.

  “Have any of you seen Habi come by here tonight?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “Habi. Tall. Dark-haired. Got a mustache that looks like a caterpillar got stuck to his lip.” I paused. “He’s a ghoul.”

  The boy scowled down at me. “So because he’s a ghoul, we’re supposed to know him?”

  “Well…yeah.” I shrugged. “Lost Falls isn’t that big, kid, and there aren’t that many of you left. So have you seen him or not?”

  He opened his mouth to speak again, but the girl who’d been chewing on intestines cut in.

  “You’re one of the cunning folk, aren’t you?” She spoke with her mouth full, and I could see bits of flesh stuck between her teeth.

  I nodded. “I’m the younger, prettier one. Name’s—”

  “Ozzy, right?”

  I have to admit, I was a little surprised she recognized me. But it was happening more and more these days. Rumors had been swirling around me ever since I dealt with that whole goblin genocide thing a few months back. Apparently I’d gained a bit of a reputation—although whether that was good or bad, I hadn’t figured out yet. At least I was finally getting out from under Early’s shadow.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Ozzy Turner.”

  “Doesn’t matter who he is,” the boy snapped. “He shouldn’t be here.”

  The girl shot him a look. “He’s the one who rescued the hag, you idiot.”

  The boy shrugged and gave another little scowl. “So?”

  Sighing, the girl turned back to me. “Habi looked scared. Real scared. I called out, but he didn’t stop. Do you know what’s happening?”

  “Not really.”

  “Are you going to help him?”

  Bastard’s pretty damn good at helping himself. Like he helped himself to my talisman.

  I took a breath before I answered, channeling Early’s calm. “If he’ll let me.”

  The girl took another bite out of the contents of her medical waste bag and chewed on it as she studied me.

  After a few seconds, she pointed. “Down the end there, by the repair yard, there’s a red box car.”

  “Sal!” The boy glared at her. “Don’t tell this human—”

  “Oh, shut the hell up, Daud,” she said to him before looking down at me again. “A red box car with an owl painted on it. That’s where Habi goes to hide when he’s in trouble.”

  I looked in the direction she was pointing and nodded. “Thanks. Stay in school, kids.”
<
br />   I trotted off, heading deeper into the abandoned train yard.

  The sky was growing dark, and the long lines of freight cars and rusted engines cast deep shadows over everything. The yard seemed still, but it wasn’t silent. I could hear rats skittering about, and the occasional soft creak of a chain swaying in the breeze. Wind whistled through the holes rusted in the train cars. It sounded a little like a child crying.

  I checked the time. My sister was going to kill me. I was late for dinner, and in Alice’s eyes tardiness was the eighth deadly sin. I considered sending her a text begging for forgiveness, but I knew it was already too late for that. Better to pick up a bottle of wine on the way over and hope she didn’t beat me to death with it.

  The repair yard had once sat beneath a tall, arching roof made of iron, but now it had so many holes it resembled an upturned colander. Two rail lines led into the repair yard, and both were packed with abandoned cars and engines. I made my way through the weeds between the lines, using the light from my phone to illuminate the way.

  The beam of light fell on an old red box car, the kind with big sliding doors on each side. On the side of the car someone had sprayed a surprisingly good painting of an owl in flight. Its talons were extended toward me. Big yellow eyes glared. It was a little unnerving.

  Above me, something creaked. I spun around, raising my phone to shine the light at the roof overhead. Through the holes in the iron I could make out streaks of cloud drifting across the stars that were just beginning to emerge.

  Get it together, Ozzy. I hadn’t realized how much this place was getting under my skin.

  Then again, I knew the kinds of creatures that lived in places like this.

  I turned back to the box car, lowering my phone so the beam wouldn’t shine through the cracks in the door. Moving slowly so my shoes wouldn’t crunch on the gravel, I made my way to the box car’s door. Inside, I could hear a soft rustling sound.

  I smiled in the dark. Gotcha, you thieving bastard.

  I wrapped my hand around the handle and threw the door open.

  Habi screeched and threw his hands up to shield his eyes as I shone my phone light at him. The ghoul had been sitting hunched in the corner of the box car on a mattress so stained and torn it could only have come from a landfill. Now he scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over his own gangly legs in the process.

  “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?” I said. “I find missing things for a living, you idiot.”

  “O…Ozzy?” He squinted at me through the light of my phone. “Is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me. Who the hell else would come here?” I sniffed. “Hell, what’s that stink? You better not make me come in there, Habi.”

  “Ozzy,” he said, putting his hands together in supplication. “Wait, please—”

  “I want what you stole from me.”

  “But—”

  “You’ve got three seconds before I climb in there to take it. And if you make me do that, so help me God I’ll make you regret it.”

  One of his hands went to his neck, clutching a leather braided cord that vanished beneath the collar of his T-shirt. The son of a bitch was wearing my fetish around his neck. Around his neck, like some goddamn pendant he picked up at the local market for the price of a bad coffee.

  “I need it!” he whined.

  “You don’t need it.” I held up a finger. “One.”

  “I’m cursed!”

  “This again.” I shook my head. “You’re not cursed, Habi. I ran every test in the book. That talisman isn’t going to do a damn thing for you. And until you tell me what’s got you so worked up, neither can I.” A second finger went up. “Two.”

  His hand shook as he drew the fetish from beneath his ratty T-shirt. But he didn’t take it off. The fetish swayed in his grasp.

  The piece of kelpie hoof sat inside a clear glass vial filled with pale yellow liquid. It was sealed at the top with soulwax. It didn’t look like much, but it had been damn hard to come by. Kelpie were treacherous, cunning, and almost impossible to capture. I’d only acquired the talisman recently, and it was only to be used when circumstances demanded it.

  It sure as hell wasn’t supposed to be used as a placebo to calm the nerves of a paranoid ghoul.

  Habi licked his lips. “If I take it off, I’m dead.”

  “Three.” I started to haul myself into the box car. “I’ll show you dead, you son-of-a—”

  As I grabbed hold of the rail and pulled myself up, I heard another groan of metal above me.

  Something slammed into the top of my head. I went down hard, the train yard spinning around me. Through the haze I heard a scream and the squeal of rusted metal.

  “The hell?” I groaned, trying to blink the stars out of my eyes. I found myself lying on the cold ground in front of the red box car. Next to me, with a head-shaped dent in it, was a thin square sheet of rusted iron. It must’ve fallen from the repair yard roof. And landed square on my noggin.

  Just my fucking luck.

  Clutching my head, I pulled myself to my feet. I could feel blood trickling down into my beard. With one eye closed to keep the world in focus, I dug a vial of one of Early’s tinctures out of my pocket and splashed a few drops on my tongue. The train yard finally stopped spinning around me.

  “This damn place is falling apart,” I said, glaring up at the hole in the roof where the iron sheet had fallen from. “Why the hell did you have to hide here, huh? Habi?”

  I looked into the box car. The ghoul was nowhere to be seen. And neither was my kelpie-hoof fetish.

  The door on the other side of the box car had been flung open wide enough for someone to slip through. As I stared out the other side I saw a shadow disappearing into one of the abandoned buildings at the end of the train yard.

  I sighed. “All right. That’s it. That ghoul is dead.”

  Ignoring the pounding in my head, I pulled myself into the box car, jumped out the other side, and gave chase.

  My feet pounded on dirt and then concrete. The light from my phone flashed wildly about in front of me, but it kept me from tripping over any rail lines or loose stones.

  The buildings ahead formed boxy silhouettes against the hills beyond. There were no lights on inside, but I could just make out the doorway through which I’d seen the shadow disappear. I made for it.

  The building had probably once been a workshop and break area for the staff of the rail yard. As I got closer, I could see it was made of unpainted concrete. More of its windows were broken than intact.

  I came to the doorway and found what remained of the door—it’d been long since pried open, either by vandals or some ghoul looking for a dry place to sleep.

  I slowed as I reached the doorway. It was pitch black inside, and even the light of my phone could only penetrate so far. An acrid smell wafted out—stale urine, maybe human, maybe not.

  Charming. Habi took me to all the best places.

  Trying not to breathe in, I stepped through the doorway. I was in a long, dark corridor with other doorways branching off. Bits of desks and chairs were scattered about. Weeds had punched their way through cracks in the floor. I cast my light about, illuminating bad graffiti and dark stains that I didn’t really want to investigate further.

  “All right, Habi,” I called out, my voice echoing off the concrete walls. “Because I’m trying real hard to be a good cunning man these days, I’m going to give you one last chance. Come out, say you’re sorry, and give me back what you stole. I won’t hurt you. Much.”

  The echo of my voice faded. There was no response.

  “Come on,” I said. “If you really think you’re cursed, I’ll have another look at your case. Just don’t make me crawl through this shit-hole looking for you. My head hurts, I’m bleeding all over the place, and I’m late for dinner. Make this easy on both of us.”

  For a moment, I couldn’t hear anything except the wind whistling through the holes in the windows. Then, suddenly, I heard the s
ound of glass shattering, followed by a muffled cry.

  I took off in the direction of the sound—or at least what I thought was the right direction. With the way sounds echoed in here, it was difficult to tell. I stomped down the hall, turned a corner at the end, and continued on.

  Where the hell had he gone? I strained my ears, but I couldn’t hear any more sounds. I glanced into a couple of small empty offices, then came to a pair of bathrooms at the end of the corridor. I shone my light back and forth, then pushed open the door to the men’s.

  I couldn’t see anyone from the doorway, but I wouldn’t put it past Habi to hide in one of the two cubicles. Cautiously, I stepped inside.

  The window at the other end of the bathroom was broken, and through it I could see the cloudy night sky. The bathroom mirror was smashed as well, along with the sink. My shoes crunched on glass and porcelain as I moved to the cubicles.

  Both cubicle doors were open. And both were empty. But as I shone my light around, it flashed across something sitting on the floor beside one of the toilets.

  I bent down and picked it up by the cord. It was my kelpie-hoof fetish. I gave it a quick once-over. The cord had snapped, but the glass vial wasn’t cracked, and the piece of kelpie hoof inside seemed undamaged. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  But where the hell was Habi? I looked around, and my gaze fell on the broken window. It was just big enough for a skinny bastard like Habi to squeeze through. He must’ve dumped my fetish, smashed the window, and made a run for it.

  Guess he really was scared of me.

  I was of half a mind to go after him, but what was the point? I had the fetish back. That was all that mattered. And I was late enough for dinner as it was. If I left now, I might get there in time for dessert.

  Grunting, I started to turn away, but out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed something glinting in the light of my cell phone. There was something sitting in the broken sink, beneath a couple of shards of mirror glass.

  I carefully moved the shards aside and picked the thing up. It was heavier than I expected. It was circular, but not perfectly so.