The Doc Graystone Collection (Red Runes, A Watery Grave, Masks of Mayhem, The Jewel of Shambhala, The Crimson Mantis) by Nicholas Olivo

Author:Nicholas Olivo [Olivo, Nicholas]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2015-07-06T07:00:00+00:00

That evening back at the hotel, after incinerating his clothes and changing into a fresh outfit, Graystone sat in a chair and took a swig of the tequila from his hip flask.

“What are you thinking, Grant?” Joan asked, apparating next to him.

“I am thinking that tequila is no substitute for good whiskey, and that I seem to be going through an awful lot of vests lately,” Graystone replied as he capped his flask. “I do believe I’m going to be keeping good Master Dominic’s tailoring shop in business for some time.”

“I meant about this case.”

“Ah, that. Well—” Graystone stopped short, hearing a knock at the door. “Yes, come in.” A bellhop dressed in a blue uniform bowed to him and held out an envelope. Graystone handed the boy a coin, and the youth gave a yellow-toothed “Gracias” as he hustled out the door.

“That was an awful lot of money for a tip,” Joan said.

“Money is something I have plenty of, Joan,” Graystone replied, turning the envelope over in his hands, “besides, I have no idea what the currency conversion rates are down here. Now then, it appears good Detective Thomas Grady has sent us something.” Graystone tore open the envelope and produced the telegram. He skimmed it and frowned. Joan hovered over his shoulder, reading along.

“So this Valentino chap has been expanding his bootlegging operation,” Graystone mused. “He currently controls the illegal alcohol trade in Oregon and most recently in Texas. Very enterprising.”

“And now he’s stealing gold.”

“Quite,” Graystone agreed. “As lucrative as bootlegging is, this is undoubtedly more profitable. More dangerous, too, but when one has the power of a deity at one’s disposal, the potential for danger lessens dramatically.” Graystone pondered for a moment. “Joan, darling, I need to find this Valentino chap and quickly. I need to speak with Zetharon.”

Joan’s hovering form went still. Graystone put up a hand. “I know. Believe me, I have considered all the other options. I need to get this Flayed God’s true name. Then I can use my rings to track his necromantic signature.”

“You can’t do that now? You’ve been exposed to the energy enough times.”

Graystone shook his head. “Sadly, no. This sort of tracking requires both a name and an energy signature. A deity can bequeath his powers to others, and I don’t want to waste time tracking down another masked thug.”

Joan’s mouth was a thin line of disapproval. “Grant Graystone, if Lashimia senses you, she’ll come through your summoning circle and do everything she can to rip out your soul.” Joan’s voice was quiet but firm. “I do not want to see anything happen to you.”

“Don’t worry, darling,” Graystone flashed a grin. “She’ll never even know I’m there.”

Two minutes later, with a chalk circle drawn and runic wards laid, the gentleman necromancer sent a burst of dark energy into his summoning circle. The floor within the circle flickered, warped, and faded. The hardwood floor was replaced by gray rocky terrain that carried the hint of brimstone. A voice so deep, it resonated in Graystone’s chest demanded, “Who dares summon me?”

Graystone sighed.

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