“What’s on the docket today, Timo?” Wolfe asked.
Mrs. Timo glanced up from the large, dark wood desk with silver skull inlay she was working behind. Her skin was slightly darker than the normal white, either Mediterranean or perhaps pacific islander.
She lowered her glasses to stare at Wolfe with brown eyes surrounded by laugh and worry lines both. “It’s Mrs. Timo or Grammy, you young whippersnapper.”
Wolfe chuckled. “Alright, Mrs. Timo, what’s on the docket today? More braindead work for the Joliet P.D. and/or D.A.?”
“Yup,” Mrs. Timo said, patting a couple thin files on the desk in front of her. “The P.D. this time. They need two people served that live near us in Noimoire, and they want you to take statements from a victim that lives out here as well. The usual rate is being offered.”
Wolfe grimaced. I hate doing that boring-ass work for forty-an-hour, a couple hours a day. I mean, this would be a great job, normally…
Damian Grimm, the son of his old boss Thaddeus ‘Big Man’ Grimm, had possessed a ton of expensive cards in his deck before Wolfe killed him. Four rare cards specifically had been quite valuable—the five power, rare Infernal Champions. Close to as expensive had been the building card that Wolfe had dealt with the night he had killed Damian, and four solid enhancer cards. None had fit his deck—or they’d had prices he wasn’t willing to pay, like hideous Infernal features. So Wolfe had sold them all for millions.
Most of the money had gone to either purchasing arena matches for himself and Shel that were extremely advantageous, or to buying upgrades for his and Shel’s deck. Wolfe had also gotten Liam a knock-off Infernal and Canine deck that synergized with his own. It was far weaker than Wolfe’s own deck—but it had still cost almost a million dollars on its own.
Wolfe had a couple hundred thousand left in the bank, which might not sound like a lot for the number of people in his household. Besides Wolfe himself, it was composed of three adults, two children, four self-aware cards and two idiot cavapoo dogs. But Wolfe also lived inside the Hellmouth Institute, which provided a ton of food beyond the mortgage-and-maintenance free dwelling it itself was.
So working for what Wolfe admitted would be a solid salary under normal circumstances felt oddly pointless.
But he wanted the contacts with the police, so they would treat his William Madison personae as an ally and not a suspect. Plus, between Wolfe’s contract P.I. work and Shel’s work as an actual member of the Joliet P.D., he could hopefully explain away any giant windfalls that came from his other activities, once he resumed them.
He sighed and held his hand out. “Alright, pass it over.”
Mrs. Timo handed him the three new files, each with a case name and the hiring agency—Joliet PD—written below it in small letters. Each was thin, with each file folder containing only a few pieces of paper. Although the one for the interview had a bit more in it, and Wolfe knew he’d need to review it thoroughly before beginning his own interview.
He thought back to the first witness statement he had ever gotten, from Mrs. Timo herself, and winced. It had been bad. But he knew what he was doing these days, after nearly a full year as a P.I.
Wolfe drummed his fingers on the desk, only vaguely seeing the odd demonic imagery. After a year of living inside his building card, it was just part of the scenery. He decided to try and serve the papers first. It was still fairly early in the morning. Wolfe knew from personal experience that most people involved in criminal activity didn’t get up till late, making it easier to surprise them at home.
He took the keys to the newest car—he seemed to lose one every year in some kind of shootout. The new one was a Black Ford-150 truck, with the v8 and all the bells and whistles—as well as a ton of custom mods Liam had put on it. Wolfe was tired of losing his cars and wanted one that would survive the next time he was in a fight, even if it was slightly more conspicuous than he liked.
Then he strapped on his STI Edge, more to stop any of the people he had to serve from doing anything dumb than out of any fear he might need to use it.
Then he whistled.
A chorus of antiphonal barks came back, and a moment later, Cereboo busted into the room. The giant, three-headed, black-furred boxer raced past Wolfe and out the front door, barking like a maniac the entire time.
Wolfe glanced at his first card, and oldest companion, as he raced past.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Cereboo
Unique Beast/Infernal [Canine] Companion Effective Tier-7
0 Power
Health: 12
Attack: 5 x3
Defense: 7
Magical Attack: 7[Fire]
Magical Defense: 4
Special: Fungible [Beast, Infernal]: While in play, Beast and Infernal power may be spent as if they were the other.
Special: Infernal Slayer: +100% attack and magic attack against other Infernal cards.
Special: Preferred Typing [Beast, Infernal]: Gains all the better type matchups of both Infernal and Beast.
Special: One of the ‘Gate to the Underworld’ cards. If all 6 are possessed in the same deck, the bearer will gain 7 Legendary Infernal or Beast card pulls. Additionally, the deckbearer may either gain the Mythic ‘Gate to the Underworld’ Building Card or evolve Cereboo. Each card was given to a member of the Noimoire underworld.
“A pup of Cerberus, who was born into a particularly frisky litter. Cereboo was the runt—not quite as strong, nor as tough, as his litter mates. But his heart was the heart of a huntsman, and the blood of Cerberus runs in his veins. He hunted across the fiery plains of the first infernal realm, chasing the damned who tried to escape their fates. Now, he chases many things, but his soul is still called to chase those who belong in the Infernal Realms.”
A moment later, an eighteen-year-old girl came through the door. She had red eyes, long black hair, a long, ragged black dress and fingernails that were almost claws. The shadows swirled around her, a near-physical black energy.
“Morning, Malviere,” Wolfe said with a nod.
“Alpha,” she responded with a nod back, her voice eerie. “Do we go to serve notice to evildoer’s that their day of justice approaches?”
“I think in this case we’re serving victims notice of when to come tell their story in court, actually. But yeah, it’s time to go work.”
Malviere nodded her head, and Wolfe caught a glance of her card as she walked out as well.
Malviere, Conduit of Cerberus
Unique, Legendary equivalent, tier-11 equivalent Mortal/Infernal companion [Evolved Orphan, Canine]
0 Power [2-power equivalent]
Health: 20[22]
Attack: 2
Defense: 5[6]
Magical Attack: 9[Death]
Magical Defense: 15[16]
Special: Canine Leader[1]: All other [Canine] creature cards gain +1 to their non-Health stats while she is on the field
Special: Canine Rush[1]: Once per round, any one [Canine] card may take an extra attack or magical attack action.
Special: Canine Lord: [Canine] creature cards of other deckbearers will switch sides without returning their power.
Special: Canine Summoner[1]: All [Canine] creature cards cost 1 less power of any type to summon
Note: Malviere’s ‘on the field’ range is 350 feet.
“Malviere cannot remember any life except that of acting as a conduit for the power of the great guardian of the gates to the Infernal, Cerberus. She aids his chosen hunters on the mortal plane, to bring back those whom Hell has lost.”
Wolfe followed Cereboo out, Malviere falling in at his side. It occasionally still struck him as odd that, aside from Shel, the two beings he might be closest to were magic cards, not ‘real’ people. Both were companion-type cards that could think and had memories and even goals.
He walked out of the front office of his business, Madison Private Investigations, and into the foyer of the Hellmouth Institute. The room had marble floors and wood-paneled walls, but the lighting was iron chandeliers with giving off soft red light and there were statues and pictures of Infernal Lords or Champions on the walls.
Wolfe hated the décor, but he couldn’t actually remove it from the Hellmouth Institute, so grudgingly accepted it. He pushed his way out of the heavy wooden door—carved with a pentagram, because why not—and out into the front parking lot.
Cereboo was already in the back of his new truck, his front feet on the reinforced roof of the front cab, one head looking back at Wolfe and the other two staring forward.
“Elder brother is excited to hunt,” Malviere said, her voice feminine, but with an otherworldly reverberation that made it scary.
She got rather powerful when she evolved, and her new form reflects it.
“I think ‘Elder brother’”—Wolfe held up air quotes—“just loves smelling the city. We’re not hunting anyone.”
Malviere shrugged, then asked a different question. “Why isn’t your other companion, the Obsessed Infernal Cultist, coming?”
Wolfe shuddered slightly. He only had two actual companion cards, but his perk from Level Twenty-Five let him treat one evolved orphan as if it were also a companion card. He kept the Obsessed Infernal Cultist out because she let him play his Demonic Portal cards extremely cheaply. The card normally cost six power and summoned up to five power of Infernal Creature cards from a side deck. But the Obsessed Infernal Cultist reduced it by two. Wolfe had a second one in his deck as well, that would always be in his first hand, so he might be able to summon five power worth of creatures for two power, if things went optimally.
But that was only if he needed to fight. The rest of the time, the Obsessed Infernal Cultist was just a thoughtless, silent card that almost appeared to be a human woman, walking around and giving off an entire chasm’s worth of uncanny valley.
Wolfe left her home, most days. She didn’t just disturb him, she bothered the people he worked with and served papers on as well.
“If we need her, we’ll bring her,” Wolfe responded.
He went around the driver side door, and Malviere went to the front passenger side door. Before Wolfe could open the door, however, he heard a screech of tires and watched as a van came tearing around the corner from the street into his parking lot, almost tipping over as it did.
Wolfe touched his chest, pulling his deck, and at the same time grabbed his pistol from the holster.
Wolfe aimed his gun at the front of the van as it came flying up. But he shifted his aim when he saw a small, mousey, and terrified looking lady gripping the wheel, and the three cars that came tearing around the corner after her.
Shit. I should have kept the Companion Infernal Cultist around after all.