Andreas shrugged. “Easier said than done, but I can promise our vampire court will discuss possible options. We will not let this go without retribution.”
“Make it a permanent solution this time,” Ryan said, “but for now, I’ll take what I can get.” He turned back to the table and pointed at the photos. “Considering your demon theory, are the victim profiles useful or not?”
“Yes.” Andreas and Ari said as one.
“How?”
“You first,” she said, leaning back in the chair.
Andreas shrugged. “Regardless of his motivation, the killer chose his victims by some method. There are too many similarities to be random. Race, availability, personal dislike. Whatever, but the pattern points to Shale’s agency. That is the consistent link.”
“Ari, do you agree?” Ryan turned to her.
“Took the words out of my mouth. Only I’ll take it a step further. The demon may be posing as human, an agency volunteer or employee: counselor, aide, clerical, janitorial. It would have constant access, and what better place to hide?”
“Sounds like the ultimate identity theft. At least that’s something I can understand. Can’t you sense this thing, like you do with other creatures? Unmask him?” Ryan gave Ari a hopeful look.
“Maybe I could, if it wasn’t blocking its magical energy. I still might pick up slight power leaks, but lots of people, especially counselors, give off some psi ability. Shale does. So does Sarah Young. I pick up better if I’m touching, and I only shook hands with those two. I can’t very well demand to touch everyone in the building.”
Ari thought about the agency staff she’d met. Shale, Sarah, Amelia Binderman, the other counselors. Was one of them a demon? None had been unpleasant, friendly in fact. Of course, a creature would act that way if they had something to hide. She hadn’t yet met the fifth counselor or several members of the support staff.
“I could do more interviews. Try to shake a few hands. I assume you’ll broaden your background checks to anyone who regularly comes into the building,” she said, looking at Ryan. He nodded. “I’ll go back to the agency tomorrow, and at least meet Freida Stanley, who wasn’t available last time. Until then, I’ll start researching for a way to stop this thing.”
Andreas straightened his long limbs and stood. “I must leave the locating and unmasking of this creature with the two of you. My priorities must be the vampire community, the protection of the prince, and restraining our people from shedding further blood. Part of that is returning the club to normalcy. With Daron and I as owners, its continued closure makes us look vulnerable.” He gave them a warning look. “If the demon strikes again, Daron’s control could collapse.” With those unexpected words, Andreas strode toward the construction area.
Ryan and Ari stared at one another in alarm.
Chapter Sixteen
Andreas’s warning left Ari stunned. She really hadn’t considered the possibility of Daron losing control. Riverdale’s vampire community would be wide open for someone really evil, like a 1000-year-old vampire named Sebastian, to take over. A chilling possibility.
Propelled by a new sense of urgency, Ari scurried to the ancient library at the Otherworld Research Center. She flipped through the index of every book on demonology and checked out the volumes that held promise. She hoped to find at least rudimentary information on image changers. The more data, the more likely she’d find a solution. If she was really, really lucky, Ari might discover the demon’s true name. It would give her power over him. Half the books set aside were encyclopedias of ancient demon names.
Among the spell and potion books, she looked for methods successfully used to banish lesser demons or creatures related to demonkin. She even intended to read about the dark art of vanquishing. Although she couldn’t handle black magic, she needed a starting point, a formula for a banishing elixir or a script for a magical incantation.
Arriving at her studio apartment, she stacked the books on the dining table, put on a pot of coffee, and started reading.
Two hours later, Ari sat back and stretched. She had skimmed through half the books and was no closer to a solution. No mention of image changers or demon vanquishing spells. The volumes were either too general or too specific in the wrong areas.
She took a break from the books and opened her laptop. What she needed was a worldwide search. The first search for “image changer” returned 332,000 hits for software, website development, and photo editing. Nothing even vaguely referring to demons. “Demon” proved to be a more prolific search factor, showing 44,700,000 references, beginning with the Magikpedia definition and revealing hundreds of lists of demonic names and images. She sighed. It was going to be a long, long night.
Three sites provided extensive demonology lists claiming to include the real names, aliases, powers, and brief histories of all the known demons, greater and lesser. She scanned each tab for image changer. No listing. Without knowing a name, even an alias, there was no easy way to look for Riverdale’s demon visitor. She read on, page by page, clicked on each name, read through the descriptions and slowly eliminated the possibilities, one by one. The demon Amaymon, who she hoped never made his way to Riverdale, was a really creepy dude; his breath released a deadly poison. She laughed when she read about the Kappas, water demons who carried all their strength in their water-filled heads and had to be careful that it didn’t spill.
It was all very interesting, but by 2:00 a.m., the only reference even marginally helpful was the following:
Baelenor: the 37th Spirit appeareth before the people as a Daughter of Eve and later putteth on the Shape of Man, first one then another, as he pleaseth. His office is to Deceive and Confuseth his enemies and any who doeth not his biding.
Baelenor might be an image changer. Or a shapeshifter. Or something else she’d never heard of. Discouraged, she slumped back on the couch. Unless Baelenor happened to be the demon’s name, a really far-out possibility, this reference meant nothing. She didn’t need proof image changers existed; she needed to know how to get rid of them. She jotted the name on the notepad, which was otherwise empty. Not much to show for…she checked the clock again, calculating…almost eight hours of research.
Ari uncurled her legs, crossed to the table, and set the laptop on a stack of discarded books. The table was covered; one reason she had retreated to the sofa. She rubbed her face, trying to relieve the fatigue. Too many hours staring at a computer screen, and too many short nights in a row. Sleep would be nice. She stretched her arms, gave the bed a longing glance, then put it out of mind. Time was moving on. They say there’s no rest for the wicked, but in this case, it was no rest for she who had not yet found the wicked—or a way to destroy the wicked.
She grabbed a fresh diet coke and picked up the next well-worn tome on demonology. Within five minutes, she read her first mention of an image changer, defined as a demon mutation. The image changer is a highly evolved specimen of a rare mutation, tainted by human blood, and infected by lycanthropy. The IC is highly intelligent, without conscience or empathy. It can slip between dimensions and alter its appearance at will. Excited to have found the passage, Ari read on, hoping for more, but soon realized that’s all there was. Apparently the image changer was so rare, no one had bothered to write much about it. She skimmed the remaining books without success and returned to her laptop.
At 6:30 in the morning she ran out for coffee and a bagel from a local drive-up. Two large cups, liberally doctored with cream and sugar. Straight coffee wasn’t enough this morning; she needed the sugar and calories. One cup was gone by the time she reached home. She sipped the other and nibbled the bagel as she tapped the keyboard.
Since 4:00 a.m. she had been following a brief one-liner from an obscure online demonology reference: A Changeling Daemon found in the Shape of Man is subject to Man’s laws. She had reasoned from this that an enhanced binding spell might capture the creature before it blinked into another form. That could give her time to use other magic or potions to banish it. All theory, of course. But it felt right.
At 9:30 Ryan called. “Are you up?”
“I haven’t been to bed. Researched all night. I might be on the right track finally, but nothing definite.”
“Yeah, slow going here, too. We’ve cleared all of Shale’s support staff, except Amelia Binderman. Mostly locals and easy to trace. Binderman and the counselors are taking longer because Shale hired them from out of town. We’re doing nationwide checks on everyone. You’d be surprised how many Sarah Youngs there are.” Ari heard him rustling papers. “If you’re going over there today, pay special attention to Frieda Stanley. We have a local address, but no credit cards, no phone listing. That’s not unheard of, but I’m considering it suspicious at this point.”
“A visit to the agency might be the break I need,” Ari said, flexing her stiff shoulder muscles. “That—and a long, hot shower.”
“Definitely, the shower,” he chuckled. “Especially if I have to be near you today. Of course, if you’re too tired, I could come over and scrub your back.”
“Don’t you wish.” Ari clicked off, inordinately pleased with Ryan’s teasing. It showed he wasn’t letting this thing with Andreas interfere with their friendship.
She tapped her pen on the table, considering how best to approach Shale’s agency. It called for a plan or, more accurately, a cover story. She considered telling Shale the truth, but that wouldn’t work. Technically, he was still a suspect. She picked up the phone and called Ryan back. They talked it over and decided to conduct formal interviews using a version of the truth. They would stress the need to eliminate the staff as suspects. Just routine.
When Ari and Ryan walked in the agency door, it was late morning. The air conditioning provided a welcome relief from the hot, steaming air outside. Ari had called ahead and asked Shale to assemble his staff for an impromptu meeting. At first he had flatly refused, citing impossible schedules. When she insisted, he gave in with poorly disguised irritation and said he’d gather those that were available. When she told him he needed to do better than that, the conversation ended. Ari wasn’t sure how they’d be received.
