by Tao Wong
“Hell, no!” I said, shaking my head. “One, I’m a modern-day kid. And two, I’m not an idiot.”
“Pity,” the Native American said.
I narrowed my eyes at him, watching the way Mana played over his body, was drawn in and escaped. The creature’s aura was powerful, strong, but it was also harmonious with the Mana it drew in. And so, very much not human. There was too much “earth” in his aura, even for a shaman. Which, I was sure, the creature was too.
“Not from my viewpoint,” I said. “A changeling attacked me. A skinwalker of some form. We couldn’t get much from it before the Mages swooped in. But if anyone would know of a creature like that working in the city—”
“It would be us?” Roland sniffed. “Just because such creatures are under our purview does not mean we control them.”
“No, but you’ve got your ear to the ground.” I swept my gaze over the trio, trying to get a read if the news of my attack elicited any reaction. Unfortunately, none of them offered any obvious tells. Not that I would have trusted any such tells. “You can find out who hired it. I don’t care about the creature as much as its employer.”
“We can ask around. But what does the Mage offer?” Roland said, tapping a moleskin notebook in front of him with one manicured nail. Manicured or not, the slight unevenness and worn nature of his hands was a testament to Roland’s background.
“Money. Or a service,” I said, raising a finger. “By the new rules.”
“We’ll take the money,” the troll said. “Medium-sized favor, current rate is…” He frowned, big eyebrows drawing close in puzzled thought.
“Ten thousand, three hundred, eighteen dollars on the exchange,” the normal-looking one said.
My instincts thrummed every single time he opened his mouth, warning me that of the three, he was the most dangerous. I frowned, cudgelling my brain before finally I realized what the long-haired gentleman was. A Nun'Yunu'Wi. That was why he was so powerful. In fact…
“Medium…” I winced again. “You guys do payment plans?”
“No.”
I sighed, reaching into my jacket and finding the envelope I’d kept my money in. A quick sorting of funds and exchange and I passed it over. Funny thing about working with supernaturals. Most didn’t take checks, so keeping large stashes of cash—in this case, the majority of my savings—at home was common. Since so many of us lived in a grey market economy, a lot of money exchanged hands in that grey space too. I floated the envelope over, letting it drop onto the table with a thump.
“Thank you. You’ll be informed when we know something,” Roland said.
None of them even looked at the envelope. I knew they’d check it once I was gone, but trust and reputation meant that they wouldn’t look. Not until later. But now, at least, we would have an answer. Maybe.
Because what I was paying for wasn’t guaranteed. Just for them to ask. But it was better than nothing. I thought.
***
Outside, Alexa stayed silent until we were in the car and a block away from the club. Then she slowed the car down, pulled over, and glared at me. “Why didn’t you tell me what you planned?”
“I… didn’t think about it? I mean, I thought you knew that we’d be going in as, well, us. And not Alexa the employee.”
“So it’s my fault?” Alexa said dangerously.
I winced, knowing that tone. After living in the same house with the two women for so many years, I’d picked out a few things. One of which was compromise. Sometimes, it was better to say I was wrong than to fight to the end over something that might be arguable. And I did forget to mention it, or prepare Alexa for the problem. Even if she was, technically, the more experienced of the two of us. Sort of.
“Sorry,” I said.
Alexa stayed silent for a second before offering a nod then flashing me a smile. “I am too. It’s just going to be awkward now. And they’d only just started seeing me as one of them, you know?”
“I do,” I said. While I and Lily might be loners by nature, Alexa was more of a people’s person. She’d grown up with an organization, an entire orphanage full of people to rely on, to talk to. She had a family, a support system, and a faith she’d walked away from. Well, except the faith. That, I knew, she still held. It was just… different. “It’ll be fine.”
Alexa shook her head as she hit the button to open the car doors, only to pause as I was interrupted by a phone call. I frowned, a small curl of dread flashing through my stomach when I saw the name on the caller display.
Chapter 4
“Wei?” I said into the phone, offering a traditional greeting and inquiry at the same time.
“Oy! You. Call Mom. You’ve not called in a month, you know!” My sister’s shrill voice came over the phone. Elder sisters were the same the world over, I thought. Bossy and always right.
“Has it been a month already?” I winced. I wished I could say I’d been dodging calls, but the way of Chinese parents the world over was they expected me to call them, not the other way around. It was my duty—which, as usual, I failed at. I really was not a good son. “Sorry. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“You… you… you know what. We’re doing dinner. Now.”
“What?”
“Dinner. At the usual place.” As if to entice me to come after berating me, she added, “I’m buying.”
“Fine, fine,” I said, wincing.
It had been months since I’d seen her. Not since the last family gathering I’d managed to make. Sometimes it was strange that I could live so close to my family and yet never really see them. I liked my family. You know, in the abstract.
In the flesh, my family was grumpy, insistent, and prone to a lot of guilt-tripping. Even if I did deserve it most of the time, I didn’t want to be subjected to that kind of environment. Of course, there were advantages to showing up at family dinners—including my mother’s cooking.
Once I’d explained the matter to Alexa, she insisted on dropping me off at our designated meeting place—the only decent Hong Kong dessert shop in the city. There were others around, but this was the only one that did desserts right. Whether it was because the store was owned by a family or because we had grown up eating similar desserts, my sister and I agreed there just wasn’t another place that compared. Proper, pressed soybean drinks, hot tofu pudding with just the right amount of cane sugar, crispy pancakes with drizzled condensed milk. My mouth watered at the thought. Once again, I wondered why it had taken me so long to come back.
As I stepped out of the car, stretching from the long ride over, I held the door open to speak with my friend. “You sure you won’t come?”
“It’s a family meeting,” Alexa said, shaking her head. “And your sis can get you home just as well as I can. Make sure to bring some snacks back for us.”
“As if Lily would let me forget.” I snorted.
Alexa chuckled as we regarded the Quest that had appeared in our joint eyesight.
Quest Received: Bribe the GM
Bring back delectable snacks for the GM.
Rewards: Variable, depending on satisfactory levels of bribes
Of course, we both knew that this particular quest wouldn’t provide much in terms of experience. But bribing the GM was a long-time tradition in tabletop games, so it was “allowed,” according to Lily. I still thought she was stretching the wish a little, but since it was in my favor, I wouldn’t complain. Closing the door on the car, I waved Alexa off before turning around.
The dessert café was bracketed by large store-front windows that showed the fluorescent-lit interior. Within, multiple square tables lined the cream-colored wall before a single counter blocked off the dessert display and the kitchen behind. A pair of waitresses in casual clothing worked the counter and the floor. Students on a late-night food run, tired professionals, and a single four-person family filled the small café, but my sister was not among those present.
Having scoped out the loc
ation, I walked in and was quickly shown to my seat. The red upholstered chair squeaked slightly as I placed my jean-clad derriere on it and flipped open the presented menu. An order of non-caffeinated bubble tea later, I was resting quietly against the hard chair-back when my sister breezed in.
Terror of my past, annoyance of the present, my future berater stalked towards me. She barely crossed the five-foot line by a pair of inches, though you wouldn’t know it as her three-inch heels took her from vertically tiny to just short. Petite or not, my sister had enough attitude to take up a room and the delicate features that had men clustering around her whenever she went clubbing.
“Hey, sis,” I said, waving from my seat.
Katie—Katherine, but she hated the full name—took a seat and glanced at the menu. “You ordered yet?”
I shook my head.
“Good. You always get it wrong.” Waving, she got the attention of a waitress and fired off a series of orders before turning her piercing attention on me. “You’re looking good. Added a bit of muscle. And that jacket’s new.”
I glanced at the enchanted coat and shrugged, grateful that the enchantments were on the inside. Not that they looked like anything but weird runic glyphs, badly sewn or burnt on. One thing they didn’t discuss in all the books and fantasies was how hard it was to actually do the work. I swore if I was in a proper game system, I’d have sewing at level 5 already.
“Thanks?” I said hesitantly.
“So this new job of yours is going well?” Katie said, eyes narrowing.
“It’s piecemeal, but there’s enough money in it.” I knew the question was about more than money, though money was a big part of the conversation. After all, it was hard to be healthy and happy when you were struggling to make ends meet. Not impossible. Just hard.
“And what is it that you do again?”
I suppressed the smile that tried to creep onto my face. I’d been purposely vague with my family. Hard to say “I run quests, make minor magical items, and occasionally kill monsters” with a straight face. Among other things, my liberal, civilized, and worrywart parents would freak out about the idea of me getting injured. Even if I did have magically gifted healing, it was just a sped-up system. Not a hand-wavey fix.
“Arts and crafts,” I said. “I make things and sell them to people.” That answer wasn’t much better, not for an Asian family, but we make do. “And run errands for some of my richer clients.”
“You know what Mama and Papa would say, right?” Katie said, eyes narrowing.
“Why do you think I stay away?”
“Avoiding the argument won’t change their views,” Katie said. “In fact, it makes you look like a child trying to hide a smoke.”
“But talking to them won’t change their minds. You know them. Have you ever won an argument?” I countered, shaking my head. “Easier to just keep them in the dark.”
“And at arm’s length?” Katie opened her mouth to berate me further but was interrupted as the food arrived. When the waitress left, I picked up a sesame ball and dropped it on her plate. “This isn’t over!”
“Food first.” I popped one of the balls into my mouth.
Katie sighed but dropped the conversation, allowing us to focus on the dishes. In short order, we were done, replete and less angry.
“Henry, you need to call and visit more. Staying away hurts them. You know that. I know you know that, so why?”
I grimaced but stayed silent, not having a particularly good answer.
Katie sighed, shaking her head, and pointed at me. “Ever since you started this new job, it’s been like that. And don’t think we haven’t noticed the new scars and the muscles. Are you part of a triad? A gang?”
“Of course not!”
Katie smiled slightly at how fast I replied, taking it for the truth it was. I was just grateful that I hadn’t tried to overthink the question, since the Mage Council could be considered a weird cult. Not a triad or gang, but, you know.
“Then where are you getting all this money? I don’t believe you’re earning that much just ‘running errands.’”
“Well, I don’t care if you don’t believe it. It’s the truth.” I paused, then added, “Okay, not just running errands. I get a bunch from selling my stuff.”
“Your… stuff.” Katie waggled her eyebrows, and I snorted.
“Not that kind.”
“True. You have no chance at earning a living that way,” Katie said.
I sniffed, but I had to admit I was grateful that we had shifted our talk in a new direction. For a time, we turned to happier things, like discussions about Katie’s lack of a love life as she pursued her career in the banking industry, about old friends and past experiences. We talked like family did, about nothing important and everything. And I couldn’t help but forget some of my worries, forget about the fact that someone had tried to kill me earlier that day. I reveled in the normalcy of the conversation, and my sister, the smart woman that she was, noticed it.
Eventually, the waitress gave us a look, hinting that it was time to free up her table. I paid for the bill, making sure to leave a generous tip. An act that made Katie raise an eyebrow, though she didn’t pursue it.
Our congenial atmosphere lasted until she dropped me off at home. Then she put a hand on my arm, growing serious. “Henry. Call them. And… consider trusting us. Whatever is going on, you know we’ll support you.”
I flashed her a quick, wry smile and nodded, detaching my arm from hers as I opened the door. Family, obligation, responsibilities. I was never good at them. Not at home, not in person. But I’d try to call them more often, even if I had to lie. Because for all that I wanted it otherwise, might want it otherwise, my life was not one I’d drag them into.
Chapter 5
The next morning, we pulled up at the scene of the crime. Not mine, since that one was still blocked off by government representatives and my guardians. No, the original crime. Shane’s murder. Of course, I didn’t know exactly where he had been killed, but his home was our best bet.
We approached the apartment, having parked Alexa’s car a distance away. The ex-Initiate had her gym bag slung over the shoulder of her inscrolled winter jacket. It was rather nice of her friends from the Templars to send that to her for Christmas last winter, even if the note guilting her for leaving had been rather passive-aggressive. Still, the coat was both armored and imbued with faith magic, such that she was better protected against malicious magic than even I was.
The flat was in one of those concrete block, low-income buildings that had been built in the 1960s and never really updated. Even the wallpaper in the corridors was faded and stained from years of use, no matter the amount of care taken for it. For all its wear, it was obvious the inhabitants of the building took good care of it. The floors were swept and mopped, the scent of a cleaning fluid assaulting my nose as I walked down the well-lit corridor.
Shane’s apartment was one of the larger ones, a legacy of how long the dwarf had lived there. Staring at the green door, it took me only a moment to locate the spell ward that subtly turned away unwanted visitors. This one was still intact, traces of its user still glowing.
“Are we going in?” Alexa asked impatiently. Breaking and entering had a tendency to put the ex-Initiate on edge, especially since she’d lost the protection of her order.
“One second,” I said, touching the ward. I manipulated it, pulling forth the ward’s aura.
I nodded after a second, releasing the ward, having memorized the traces of the magical signature still left on it. The ward had degraded such that I wouldn’t be able to track its caster, but if they used magic near me, it’d probably be possible to figure out who they were. Most likely, the ward maker was dead, killed by my hand yesterday. But… you never know.
After that, breaking in required two spells—one to bypass the ward, the second to open the locks. Magic made crime way too easy. It was one of the reasons why we policed ea
ch other so much—when the governments got involved, they had a tendency to overreact. Or, perhaps, because we never gave them a chance to properly react, they didn’t have a middle ground.
When I move to step in, Alexa pushes me aside, shooting me a glare that I duck my head to avoid. She enters, the buckler she carried in her gym bag on her hand while a shorter stick was held in the other. That stick, I knew, could extend to form a point of Mana-imbued force. It was one of my better inventions, though the charge could only hold for about ten minutes.
It was a good thing too that Alexa went ahead, as three steps into the apartment, she was attacked by a crazed ball of fur. She caught the attacker on her shield, holding its claws away from her face. A few struggles and three deep scratches later, I had the cat suspended in mid-air, snarling at us.
“Forgot about Charlie,” I said.
“I didn’t,” Alexa said, glaring at the deep scratches on her wrist.
She waved for me to deal with the feline while she scouted out the rest of the apartment. By the time she had come back, I’d set up a small force wall to keep the cat contained. Alexa caught me browsing through cupboards, looking for the remainder of Shane’s cat food, when she got back.
“Do you mind opening the window?” I said, gesturing outward.
Agitated and abandoned, forced to stay at home—which he hated—Charlie had proceeded to make his distaste known. Cat urine, vomit, and feces made the interior of the apartment rather horrendous for all right-thinking, breathing creatures.
Alexa quickly complied then poked her head out the window, eyeing the fire escape before walking back, carefully. Shane’s residence was, beyond its feline-induced chaos, relatively neat. The dwarf had been a collector of puzzle blocks and rocks. All across the room were mason jars filled with rocks, all of them placed in a haphazard manner with no sense—at least to my eyes—for the kind of geology they contained. As for Shane’s furniture, most of it was worn and marked, the few cushions split, stuffing falling out. But beyond that, there was a mild discomfort in being in the room, one that I only twigged on later.