A Dirty Job (Grim Reaper 1)

"Sounds good, Asher," Lily said. "Be careful. "

Charlie crept back up the steps, went out the front door of his apartment and down the elevator to the street entrance, suppressing his gag reflex the whole way. On the street he flagged down a cab and rode into the Mission, trying to wipe the image of his shagging employees out of his mind.

The Morrigan had followed the gift souls that had escaped through the drains to a deserted street in the Mission. Now they waited, watching the green Victorian building from storm-drain grates at either end of the street. They were more cautious now, their rapacious nature having been dampened somewhat by having been severely blown up the night before.

They called them the gift souls because the little patchwork creatures brought the souls right to them in the sewers - the gifts showing up in the Morrigan's weakest moment. After the accursed Boston terrier had chased them through miles of pipelines, leaving them battered and exhausted on a high ledge at a pipe junction, along marched twenty or so of the darling little nightmares, all dressed up in finery and carrying just what they needed to heal their wounds and replenish their strength: human souls. And thus renewed, they were able to scare away that obnoxious little dog. The Morrigan were back - not to the strength they'd achieved before the explosion, maybe not even enough to fly, but certainly enough to venture Above once again, especially with so many souls at hand.

No one was out on the streets tonight except the junkies, the hookers, and the homeless. After the fucked-up day in the City, most everyone had decided that it was just a better idea to stay in, safer. To the Morrigan (for all they cared), they were safer in their homes the same way a tuna fish is safer in a can, but no one knew that yet. No one knew what they were hiding from except Charlie Asher, and he was getting out of a cab right in front of them as they watched.

"It's New Meat," said Macha.

"We should give him a new name," said Babd. "I mean, he's really not that new anymore. "

"Hush," hushed Macha.

"Hey, lover," Babd called out of her drain. "Did you miss me?"

Charlie paid the cabbie and stood in the middle of the street looking at the big jade-green Queen Anne. There were lights on in the turret upstairs and in one window downstairs. He could just make out the sign that read THREE JEWELS BUDDHIST CENTER. He started to step toward the house and saw movement in the lattice under the porch - eyes shining. A cat maybe. His cell phone rang and he flipped it open.

"Charlie, it's Rivera. I have some good news; we found Carrie Long, the woman from the pawnshop, and she's still alive. She was tied up and thrown in a Dumpster a block from her store. "

/> "That's great," Charlie said. But he wasn't feeling great. The things that had been moving under the porch were coming out. Moving up the stairs, standing on the porch, lining up and facing him. Twenty or thirty of them, a little more than a foot tall, dressed in ornate period costumes. Each had the skeletal face of a dead animal, cats, foxes, badgers - animals Charlie couldn't identify, but just the skulls - the eye sockets empty, black. Yet they stared.

"You won't believe what she said put her there, Charlie. Little creatures, little monsters, she said. "

"About fourteen inches tall," Charlie said.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Lots of teeth and claws, like animal parts stuck together, all dressed up like they were going to a grand costume ball?"

"What are you telling me, Charlie? What do you know?"

"Just guessing," Charlie said. He unclipped the latch on his sword-cane.

"Hey, lover," came a female voice from behind him. "Did you miss me?"

Charlie turned. She was crawling out of the drain almost directly behind him.

"The bad news," Rivera said, "is we found the junk dealer and the bookstore guy from Book 'em Danno - pieces of them. "

"That is bad news," Charlie said. He started moving up the street, away from the sewer harpy and the porch full of Satan's sock puppets.

"New Meat," came a voice from up the street.

Charlie looked to see another sewer harpy coming out of the drain, her eyes gleaming black in the streetlight. Behind him he heard the clacking of little animal teeth.

"Charlie, I still think you should leave town for a while, but if you don't, and don't tell anyone I told you this, you should get a gun, maybe a couple of guns. "

"I think that would be a great idea," Charlie said. The two sewer harpies were moving very slowly toward him, awkwardly, as if their nerves were short-circuiting. The one closest to him, the one from the alley in North Beach, was licking her lips. She looked a little ragged compared to the night she'd seduced him. He moved up the street away from them.

"A shotgun, so you won't need to learn to shoot. I can't give you one, but - "

"Inspector, I'm going to have to get back to you. "

"I'm serious, Charlie, whatever these things are, they are going after your kind. "

"You have no idea how clear that is to me, Inspector. "