The Vigiles Urbani Chronicles- Year One

by Ken Lange

  Andrew gave me an incredulous look. “They won’t have what you need in stock.” With a dismissive wave, he said, “Don’t worry about it. I called a carpenter friend of mine to come by to tend to the unfortunate mess. If luck holds, he’ll have it fixed up by the time you get back.”

  Furrowing my brow, I shook my head. “Back? Where am I going?”

  Andrew puffed out his chest. “Isidore will be taking you across the lake to the Archive to pick up a few things for me. And while you’re there, you can register.”

  Isidore leaned forward and clasped his head in his hands. “I suppose the upside of this little adventure is that I’ll have a cool place to sit while you register and collect whatever Andrew asked to be pulled.”

  Gesturing at Isidore, I shook my head. “It would speed things up if you gave me a hand lugging the stuff out. Hell, you might even be finished by the time I’m done with the paperwork…depending how much there is.”

  Andrew shifted in his seat. “He can’t help you… Isidore can’t step inside the Archive.”

  This was starting to sound like a load of crap. I huffed, looking between the two. “Really? Why not?”

  Andrew shifted again, clearly uncomfortable. “He’s a werewolf. Entering the Archive would kill him.” Anger crossed his face in a storm. “That’s why he’s driving you.” He hung his head. “If you were registered and knew the way, I wouldn’t bother sending him”

  What the fuck? It was hard to believe the magical world was this far behind when it came to equal rights among species. My stomach was queasy when I looked over at Isidore. “Please tell me he’s joking.”

  Judging by the sour look on Isidore’s face, this was for real.

  He shook his head. “Wish he were.”

  I got the distinct feeling I’d traveled several decades back in time. The world obviously hadn’t moved forward on all fronts at an equal rate. Honestly, though, I shouldn’t have been all that surprised; things weren’t much different back home. I’d been on the receiving end of similar bigotry due to my mixed heritage, and once I was overseas, people hated me because I was American. It amazed me how little one person needed to hate another.

  I grumbled, “This is a crock of shit.”

  Andrew nodded. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  I sighed. “Is it only weres that can’t enter the Archive?”

  Andrew winced. “Unfortunately, no. There are a number of others. Some of which are truly less than desirable creatures, such as demons, shapeshifters, and others who aren’t particularly social creatures.”

  I was perplexed by Andrew’s attitude. “Seriously, you’re going to lump groups together as well?”

  Isidore sat up straight and shook his head. “Before you get your panties in a bunch, you should remember that they’re called demons for a reason. As for the shapeshifters, I’ve never even heard of one being remotely sane. Something about their makeup pretty much ensures their mental instability.”

  With those words, I gave up. I wasn’t sold on the idea of all members of a group being shitty, but it was obvious I didn’t have a chance here. “Fine. Let’s get this over with already. Just for the record, though, I don’t like being earmarked like cattle.”

  Andrew conceded the point with a small gesture. “Our kind have to give a little to get along with the humans and others who inhabit this world.”

  I did my best to keep my tone civil, and grunted. “I get it. It’s all for the greater good.”

  Isidore checked his watch and got to his feet. “We’d better get on the road if we plan on getting back at a decent hour.”

  The conversation over, I grabbed a bottled water and followed Isidore downstairs. He drove a large, silver, extended-cab pickup truck. It took a minute to get out of the Garden District due to the size of the vehicle and all the road construction, but after we got on the interstate, it was smooth sailing across the Causeway Bridge that spanned Lake Pontchartrain to Covington.

  Trendy boutiques lined the smooth roads of the Northshore, making it apparent that this was where the new money resided. Sure, New Orleans had the Garden District, but this side of the lake had several small cities and villages almost equal in splendor.

  Every mile after the bridge made Isidore edgier, until he’d reached the point of paranoia. He had a death grip on the wheel, and was careful to obey every traffic law. It hurt me to see him so nervous because he was in the proximity of something that was supposed to serve and protect our kind. Hopefully, one day it would change, but for now all I could do was watch and do my best to help where I could.

  Several twists and turns later, we pulled up outside St. Tammany Parish Justice Center. It was a large, multi-story brick and tan stucco building that looked like every other modern courthouse I’d seen over the last thirty years. It was as if the United States had purposely chosen to build the new court system in the blandest, dullest way possible. Isidore pulled around to 26th street, where he found a parking spot at the farthest end of the lot.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he nervously blotted it away with a paper towel. “The Archive is on the third floor.” He pulled an envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to me. “You’ll need to give this to Ms. Dodd for your uncle. After that, she’ll get you the files and books he’s ordered.” He pointed at the glove box. “Oh, and I was saving this for a rainy day, but its usefulness is about to run out.”

  When I pushed the button, the compartment popped open. “What am I looking for?”

  He pointed at a clear plastic case containing a CD. “That’s a copy of a Bon Jovi album that’s due out next month.”

  I pulled it out and flipped it over with more than a little confusion. “What am I supposed to do with this? I’m not exactly a big fan.”

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s not for you, idiot. Give it to Ms. Dodd. It’ll earn you tons of brownie points.”

  Okay, that was…a little weird. “All right. Want me to tell her it’s from you?”

  His eyes nearly bugged out. “Absolutely not…the woman hates me.”

  I blinked. “Then why have it in the first place?”

  Frustrated, he gripped the wheel even tighter. “I always have something on me that’ll keep the bitch off my back.” He waved a dismissive hand at me. “She isn’t above accepting gifts to cut people like me some slack. But for me to give her a gift for no reason would be inappropriate in her eyes.”

  With a snort, I said, “So, as long as it looks like a bribe, she’ll do the right thing. But being nice to her would piss the woman off. Is that it?”

  He nodded. “In a nutshell.”

  Grr. “I already didn’t like her, but this is total bullshit.”

  Isidore shrugged. “That’s the way she is.” Shooing me out the door, he said, “I’d really appreciate it if you could be quick about it. Being within a half mile of the woman grates on my last nerve.”

  Fondling the CD, I thought about leaving it there, but if he was right, it was probably safest to butter the hag up as much as possible. “I’ll do my best.” I held up the disc. “Thanks for this.”

  A couple of minutes later, I had to basically strip to pass through the metal detector. After which I was forced to get dressed in the exceptionally bland lobby. Whoever had designed the place must’ve had a lobotomy if they thought it inspired anything but boredom on an epic scale.

  I took the stairs up to the third floor two at a time and stepped out into the unimpressive landing covered in peel-and-stick squares of blue carpet. It had that new building smell that was a combination of paint, glue, plaster, and cement. When it came to dull, this had the first floor beat by a factor of infinity. To top it off, the place was eerily quiet, the air was still, and it generally gave me the willies.

  A massive wall of glass and steel spanned the entire building. Every window had the shade dropped and closed. The entrance was a nondescript plate glass door with the word Archive stenciled on it in gold lettering. Trying not to yawn, I pulled the door open and
stepped inside. The interior lighting nearly blinded me as it reflected off the surgical-white walls, floors, and ceiling. The room consisted of a small waiting area, a heavy steel security door leading into what I could only assume was the Archive, and an ancient metal desk on the far side.

  Ms. Elizabeth Dodd sat at the desk with annoyance working its way across her features as her gray eyes fixed on me. Adjusting her horn-rimmed glasses, she wiped her fingers on a nearby napkin and waited for me to leave.

  She took a deep breath and slowly let it out, irritation and contempt warring for pride of place on her face. “I’m sorry, sir, but you’ve clearly got the wrong office.”

  I plastered on a smile and reached for the letter Isidore had given me. “Afternoon, ma’am.”

  She closed her eyes, shaking her head as if it were taking all her willpower not to scream at me to get out. “You obviously didn’t hear me. I said, you’re in the wrong office.”

  This time, the annoyance in her voice was gone, replaced by something dangerous.

  Proceeding with caution, I handed her the envelope from my uncle. I did my best to remain as pleasant as possible. “Andrew Randall sent me.” His name made her sit up straight and pay attention. “He implied that he’d called ahead, and told me there would be some items I needed to pick up.”

  Ms. Dodd kept a wary eye on me as she took the envelope out of my hand. She opened it and scanned its contents before placing it facedown on her desk. Then she glanced at the letter and back at me. Her eyes focused on my left hand as she pointed. “What happened there?”

  By chance it was the same hand I was holding the CD with, and I placed it gently on her desk. “I come bearing gifts.”

  She raised an eyebrow at the CD. “And just what is that?”

  “It’s an advance copy of Bon Jovi’s new album.”

  Ms. Dodd blew air through her nose in disbelief. She picked it up, placed the disc into the combination CD/alarm clock at the far end of her desk, and hit play. The moment Jon’s voice came over the speakers, she smiled. “Where did you get it?”

  Relieved that she’d forgotten my hand, I stood up straight. “A good man never reveals his secrets.”

  Her eyes twinkled with delight. “Is there anything else before I get Andrew’s order?”

  Embarrassed, I said, “There is… I need to register before returning to New Orleans.”

  She hit the stop button on the player and glowered at me. “That isn’t funny.”

  Her response took me by surprise, and I stammered, “I wasn’t trying to be. Andrew insisted that I register today.”

  Her face turned sour, and she scrunched up her nose as if I’d shat on the floor. “I was willing to let this incident go, but this is too far over the line. You inform Mr. Randall that I’ll be lodging a formal complaint. I don’t care who he is! He can’t just send humans into my office asking to be registered.”

  What the hell was her goddamn problem?

  “I’m sorry?”

  Her pale skin flushed the slightest shade of pink as she shoved her pudgy finger in my direction. “You damn well should be!” Her face continued to darken as it twisted into an expression of utter disgust. “You tell Andrew that I don’t appreciate him sending monkeys to my office.”

  I was so lost. What the hell was she talking about? “I don’t know what you mean by that, but I’m not a monkey, nor am I human.”

  She clamped her fingers onto her thumb. “Shut it.”

  “But…”

  Ms. Dodd glared at me as her fangs elongated. “You’d do well to listen to your betters.” Rubbing two fingers across her forearm, she lowered her voice. “It’s disgusting how your kind traipses around here like you own this world. If it were up to me, we’d take our rightful place as gods and keep the pets where they belong.” She flicked an index finger in my direction. “I’ll get the things he asked for, but only to keep him from sending any other monkeys over to defile my office.” With that, she waddled off to the back without another word, returned a few seconds later with two Bankers Boxes, and slammed them onto the desk. “I shouldn’t let you have this, but since the mutt can’t come up and collect them, you’ll have to do. Make sure you don’t damage anything.”

  These people may’ve hated werewolves, shapeshifters, and other undesirables of their own kind, but they seemed to have a special abhorrence of humans.

  Resisting the urge to punt her head through a wall, I picked up the boxes and gave her my best smile. “Thanks for trusting me with such an important task,” I said with as much contempt and sarcasm as I could muster.

  It was clear she hadn’t caught it by the pitiful smile on her face. “It’s always so cute when monkeys learn their place.” She shooed me away. “Now go before I change my mind.”

  When I exited the building, an animal control vehicle was parked next to Isidore’s truck, with the driver sitting in his car, taking notes. I opened the door and put the boxes behind my seat before climbing in.

  Thumbing over at the driver of the next car, I asked, “What does he want?”

  Isidore rolled his eyes. “Ms. Dodd thought it would be amusing to have animal control check the lot for a dog locked in a silver truck.”

  What a bitch. This woman was un-fucking-believable. “From the sound of things, though, she likes you far more than me.”

  Isidore shot me a strange look. “How do you figure that?”

  Irritation and anger flared as I recalled the incident. “When I asked to register, she got all worked up and started calling me a monkey. That’s the second person to do that today.”

  Isidore nearly choked on his drink. “She thinks you’re human?”

  I looked out the window as we pulled into traffic. “Apparently, and they don’t register my kind there.” Chewing on my lip, I sighed. “I think I got Andrew into hot water as well. She said she was going to file some sort of formal complaint.”

  He burst out laughing, gunning the car to pull into the far lane. “That’s rich. Andrew’s going to have her ass if she does.”

  Curious, I turned to Isidore. “How’s that going to happen? Isn’t she the prefect?”

  Isidore snorted. “First off, you’re not human. That much is painfully clear to anyone who cares enough to dig below the surface. The fact that she refused to register you will put her in far more trouble than anything she could possibly whine about.” He thumbed back at the boxes. “That’s some research material to help him figure out who and what you are.” His fit of laughter completely subsided. “As for how Andrew will take her down a notch or two, that’s an entirely different story. One person or another’s been after him since he became governor back in ’71, and after ’95, people are beyond pissed.”

  Governor? “Since when did Andrew have shit to do with Louisiana politics?”

  Isidore tore his eyes off the road and stared at me for a full second like I was the dumbest person on the planet. “Huh?”

  “The governor of what, exactly?”

  Isidore glanced over at me, trying to see if I was joking or not. Then realization crossed his face. “Holy shit, you don’t know, do you?”

  I threw up my hands. “If I did, I wouldn’t be asking.”

  Isidore snorted and fought back more laughter. “Andrew is the governor of North America, and answers directly to Lazarus. Anyone filing a complaint against him does so at their own peril. Lazarus doesn’t take well to insubordination.” His features turned serious. “And I would prefer to anger just about anyone, up to and including every prefect in the US, before I’d piss off your uncle. He’s a dangerous man.”

  I sat there dumbfounded, trying to assimilate the information. “Andrew is the governor of North America?”

  Isidore snorted. “Yeah.”

  I tried to sort through the chart I’d seen in the book, and it dawned on me then why he had it. Lazarus had given it to him. “Is that why Robert and Kimberly were at the house today?”

  Isidore frowned. “Yeah, they’re both on the tr
iumvirate. The two of them broke protocol by bypassing the prefect.”

  “If Andrew’s so important, why would Robert speak to him the way he did?”

  Isidore’s frown deepened. It was clear he didn’t like the man or anything to do with him. “Robert’s part of the old guard. He lost a lot of power when Andrew took over. He’d enslaved an entire clan of werebears and was forced to release them from service because of Andrew.”

  “Wow. That guy’s a bigger asshole than I thought.”

  Isidore snickered. “You don’t know the half of it, but ever since then, people have been gunning for your uncle.”

  Well, damn, that certainly complicated things. “I see.”

  Chapter 13

  Tuesday June 2nd

  Sweat covered me as I sat up and eased out of bed to let my bare feet touch the cool hardwood floor. My joints popped and creaked as I stretched. Adjusting my shorts, I strode out onto the private balcony. The silver light of the moon highlighted dozens of scars that I liked to think gave me character.

  The peaceful night air wrapped around me, and something dark and familiar called in the back of my mind. I shivered hard enough to snap me back to reality. Fighting off a sense of foreboding, I went inside for a cold shower.

  A half hour later, I was in the kitchen, scrounging in the fridge for something to eat when the door swung open behind me. I didn’t need to turn to know it was Andrew. “Morning.”

  He chuckled. “Hopefully, you’ve found something in there for us to eat.”

  I grabbed the basics and got to work making breakfast. “Did you discover anything worthwhile in those boxes?”

  Andrew shook his head and sat at the table. “Not yet.”

  The door opened a second time, and I turned to see Isidore rubbing his eyes and sniffing. “Scrambled.”

  “Aye aye, Captain.”

  It wasn’t long before we were eating in what I’d consider blissful silence.

  Andrew closed the book he’d been reading and, frustrated, tossed it on the table. “Still nothing.”

  Unable to offer anything constructive, I motioned for them to follow me. “Let’s take this into the other room and see if we can’t sort through the pieces together.”