Night Terrors by Tim Waggoner Page A

In his Day Aspect, the Darkness looked like a young man in his early twenties. In his Night Aspect… well, maybe it’s better if I leave that up to your imagination. Maggie was a petite firecracker of a woman who loved life with the gusto of a teenager and who didn’t suffer fools. She looked upon the Darkness as the son she never had and made sure to keep the darker side of his nature on a very short leash.
    The Darkness ignored me and took a sip of his Coke – Maggie doesn’t let him drink alcohol. Maggie, however, lifted a scotch to me in a salute and gave me a grin. I couldn’t help but smile back.
    I took a seat at the bar between Abe and Maggie and the Darkness. Not because I was being antisocial, but because I hadn’t come here to chat.
    The man behind the bar was larger than life, even in his Day Aspect. Deacon Booze stands close to seven feet tall, is broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, and his arms are as thick as most people’s legs. He has a full head of dense black hair that he wears bound in a ponytail that reaches down to the small of his back. His mustache and beard are just as black as his hair, and the tips of the mustache are curled up in an old-fashioned style. His features are pronounced and sharp, and they look as if they were carved from solid granite. But his eyes are a warm brown, and he always wears a friendly smile. He was dressed in a white work shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans. I’ve never see him dressed in any other way. Some Incubi are so old and strong that they retain a small measure of their power even during the day, and I sometimes wonder if that’s the case with Deacon. His shirts aren’t just white. They’re always spotless, and they practically glow with their own light. He always wears a button pinned to his shirt with the words In Vino Veritas on it. Latin for In wine, there is truth .
    “Hey, Audra,” he greeted me as he came over to see me. “Flying solo today?”
    “There’s an exhibit at the Art Institute that Jinx wanted to see.”
    “The Titian? That’s a good one. He’ll really enjoy it.”
    As far as I know, Deacon never leaves his bar – literally. In fact, that’s one of the conditions for his being allowed to stay on Earth. But I didn’t ask how he knew about the exhibit.
    As a Shadow Watch officer, I’d learned long ago not to ask my friends questions I might not like the answer to.
    “What’ll it be?” Deacon asked. His voice is a mellow baritone, and every time I hear him speak, I wonder what he’d sound like singing. Pretty damn good, I bet. “A glass of white wine? Or maybe something stronger? I imagine you can use it after what happened last night.”
    I wasn’t surprised that Deacon knew about last night’s clusterfuck. When it comes to the Incubi community, he was information central. Which was why I’d come here, of course.
    “Neither, thanks. But I was hoping you might be able to offer me a little… insight into what happened.”
    Deacon’s smile widened, revealing teeth so very white they nearly gleamed. “I thought you and Jinx were off the case.”
    “We are. That means anything you tell me is off the record.”
    He chuckled. “And if I’m able to provide any useful insight?”
    “Then Jinx and I will owe you a favor.”
    “A sizeable one.”
    “Let’s say medium-ish.”
    He thought for a moment. “All right. I’ll tell you what I can. Shoot.”
    What I can meant what he felt comfortable telling me, but I knew it was the best I’d get out of him. I didn’t bother filling him in on the details of our battle with Quietus or the assassin’s subsequent escape. I wouldn’t dream of insulting him by telling him what he already knew. Instead, I asked, “Any idea who the masked man with the monster dog is?”
    “He’s an Ideator who calls himself Nocturne. Cute alias, huh? I don’t know what his real name is. He calls the dog Bloodshedder.”
    Nocturne. I wasn’t familiar with the name. It struck me as a