The Dossiers of Asset 108 Collection

by J M Guillen

  “Okay.” I wasn’t certain why this mattered.

  “The black sedans showed up in less than two minutes. A van too.” Simon slouched just a little. “The arrival time was inhuman, impossible.”

  “Like they were already there,” I mused.

  “Micah realized we needed to run afore I did. He sent the herd of bison twixt us and the Gentlemen, but after the bastards killed the first animal, he didn’t use his talent again. We just ran.”

  “Did they have one of their witches with them?” I asked. Simon had told me about them, eerily silent women who twitched and trembled without visible reason. Somehow they saw things hidden from the rest of us.

  “No.” He stopped to consider. “Not as far as I saw anyway.”

  “So they chased you into the forest?”

  “Naw. We turned and ducked through a small bunch of Pinyon Pines, and it seemed as if we truly might lose them. Micah really knew what he was doing in the woods.” He sighed. “Running didn’t matter. They were in front of us by the time we made it to the first clearing.”

  “So fast?” I shook my head. “How?”

  He shrugged. “They weren’t there to talk, neither. The moment we arrived they had their weapons trained on Micah.”

  “How did you get away?” My eyes went wide.

  “He didn’t get away. Those things just looked at him.” He shook his head. “Unreal in how human they seem.” He blew out a big sigh. “Micah screamed, holdin’ his head as if it were gonna burst, and folded in on himself.”

  “But they didn’t take you?”

  “Obviously.” He gave me a sideward glance. “They made his eyes bleed, ears too. He lay there screaming and jerking, like an animal.”

  “How did you—?”

  He raised a hand and cut me off. “’Nother time, I hooked up with a group of friends, in the D.C. area. Only a few of them were actually clever, but the rest were folks who knew a thing or two.”

  “Like you,” I said softly. Simon didn’t have a knack like I did. I’d seen him do some amazing things, but he insisted that he had a much more common kind of cleverness.

  “Riiight.” He touched his nose. “They knew a little bit about a little bit. Collected trinkets and lore and old things that maybe shoulda been forgotten.”

  “Smack in the middle of Washington D.C.?” I shook my head. “Sounds like a great setup to hypnotize some politicians.”

  “That’s not what these folks were about.” He shook a finger. “They collected old lore; they’re the ones who introduced me to angelic Names.”

  “Seriously.” I raised my eyebrows. “You learned the Empyrean tongue there?”

  “Not part of the story,” he growled. “The point is that I knew these folks. They was good people, probably doing more good in the world than the rest of D.C. combined.”

  “But the Silent Gentlemen found them.”

  “There was a raid that time. I couldn’t even tell you how many of them came into the broken-down house that we called the Lodge. I’d been having a typical evening, and was on my way to bed. Next moment, a half dozen of the creatures appeared inside the house. Some of them simply faded into existence, while others stepped out of a circle of crimson fire.”

  “And you didn’t see the fire there beforehand?”

  “It just appeared.” He stared at me, cobalt eyes serious. “Right in the kitchen.”

  “A fire appeared in the kitchen, and the Silent Gentlemen

  stepped out of it?”

  “Uncanny fire. Burning on nothin’, hanging in the air. It kinda sang, all warbly-like.”

  “Okay.” I shook my head. Sometimes, Simon’s stories convinced me that I listened to a truly crazy person.

  “They brought a witch that time. Her eyes were black, no white at all, and her fingers twitched and writhed in the air.” He made a gesture, like a stage magician. “She knew right where people hid, could tell when someone clever was up to tricks. Just bein’ near her filled some folks’ heads with static.”

  “Did they give out the same treatment?” I folded my arms around myself and shuddered. “With the bleeding eyes and ears?”

  “I dunno.” He shrugged and seemed almost embarrassed. “Far as I know, I’m the only one that made it out.” He kicked his boot against the roof and sent bits of gravel sailing. “Grabbed some books an’ things and made away.”

  “But you can guess.” I spoke softly. “They were there to take your friends.”

  “Oh, they only took the clever folk.” He cleared his throat. “Killed the rest. Just left corpses on the floor. Dunno why, but I kinda assumed fer the crime of seeing them.”

  “Was—?” I broke off, hoping I wasn’t about to touch on a sore spot. “Was that where you met Rufus?” Simon maintained that his greatest magical teacher was a man named Rufus. I wasn’t buying it.

  “Indeed, Nancy Drew.” He chuckled. “Good work.”

  “But how did the Silent Gentlemen even find them?” We’d had this conversation on and off, and I never felt he answered me completely.

  “I’m gonna show you something.” He held up one finger and grinned behind his bushy mustache. “Because you’re a stubborn little bird, and I know just telling you is never enough.”

  “I’m the stubborn one?” I shook my head.

  “I prefer to think of myself as patient.” He gestured at me with his knobby wooden cane to make a point. “I spent most of yesterday setting this up.”

  I followed him as he shuffled across the rooftop, only leaning on the cane now and again. I knew the cane was far more than a walking implement, in the same way the knickknacks and gewgaws he had beneath his coat were far more than the various bits of detritus they seemed.

  “There.” Simon pointed down into the street. “See that?”

  We gazed down into a small parking lot, one bordered on three sides by office buildings. Apparently abandoned, the only way in was through the alleyway below us.

  “I do.” My brow furrowed as I peered down. “It’s quite the versatile solution for car storage.”

  “You don’t see anything.” He huffed. “But over there, by the dumpster, I have a little secret.”

  “Is it a hobo?” I peered down at the shadows behind the dumpster. “It’s a hobo, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not a hobo.” He dug around the inside of his coat and produced a battered baseball cap. Mostly dingy blue, the thing had to be older than me by several decades.

  He handed it to me. “You remember what that is?”

  “I do.” I gazed at the same cap he’d showed me just before he officially started teaching me.

  A flexible silver band, less than a quarter centimeter thick had been sewn and hidden within the cap. Simon had painstakingly inscribed thousands of tiny symbols in it, calls and beckonings in the Empyrean tongue.

  I had never seen a real magic item before this silly cap.

  “I want you to put it on.” He handed it to me. “If things go sideways on us, I’ll tell you to run.” His eyes darkened. “If that happens, I want you to use that little knack you’re so proud of and run for your life.”

  “Okay.” Nervously, I set the cap on my head. The moment I did, I felt it touch the Wind that sang in my heart, an odd countermelody. “But what are you worried about?”

  “Now look.” He quirked his head toward the dumpster. “Nothing odd, right?”

  “Not as far as I can see.”

  “It’s a boring corner in the city, and everything is peaceful.” He held up one finger. “Imagine for a moment that boring is our status quo; everything is normal, and the world is just spinnin’ along.”

  “Okay.” I turned to him and tried to read the mischief in his eyes. “Not too difficult.”

  “But then, something happens. Something disturbs that peace.”

  “Like a car crash?”

  “No.” He shook his head, seeming weary. “Not just something exciting, something extraordinary. Something that disturbs the base nature of re
ality and physics as we know it. Look.” He pointed.

  Thunderous green fury erupted from behind the dumpster, flames that screamed, that roared and leapt with a will all their own.

  “What’s—” I turned to stare at him, shocked. “Did you just bomb a dumpster?”

  “Yes. I bombed a dumpster.” He rolled his eyes. “No, idjit. Look closer.”

  “Oh.” I peered closer and tried to categorize what I saw. Just as Simon taught, I relaxed my mind into the tempest within my heart. The moment I did, I saw the viridian flame snap into focus. “What is that?”

  “I wondered if you’d be able to see it.” The grin in his voice threatened to turn into a chuckle. “Thought you might.”

  Faintly, only little more than a shadow, a great glowing circle rolled within that flame. It spun like a wheel and glinted, as if made of a metal I didn’t recognize. Within that, almost like a gyroscope, revolved another circle, and yet a third within it. Each was ringed with what seemed to be…

  Eyes? Wings? Living fire?

  “What is it?” I breathed. I felt like I didn’t actually see it, not in any real sense. It appeared more like a visual echo, something faint in my mind. As those wheels spun quicker, the fire grew higher and brighter. “It’s alive, isn’t it?”

  “More than alive.” Simon’s deep voice went soft and lost all trace of teasing. “It’s from before our world somehow. Behind it. It’s a minor gear in the machinery of reality.”

  Those wheels spun ever faster, fading from view as they sped. The verdant flame around them spread further, hungrily devouring what lay around it. As we watched, the leaves on a tree ten feet from the fire began to wilt, and the dumpster itself sagged from the furious heat.

  “I can hear it.” I had to strain, but a trace of some haunting melody lurked behind the more obvious sounds of the city.

  “Now that,” Simon announced, “is an example of something that breaks the status quo. That—” he pointed with his walking stick to the phenomenon “—is definitely supernatural.”

  “Okay.” I breathed. “How did you do it?”

  “Not the point.” His brow furrowed.

  “You’re my mentor,” I insisted. “I think knowing how you do things is part of the point.”

  “This will never matter to you, Shortcake.” He shook his head, a touch irritated. “Your little gifts point in a different direction. I don’t have nearly the horsepower you will.”

  “I can’t do that.” I gestured toward the fire.

  “That is nothing but a trick.” He cleared his throat. “You change reality. I just make great friends. Oh, and I lie real convincingly so reality believes me.”

  “What?”

  “It’s enough. Look.”

  It took me a moment to realize that he wasn’t referring to the flaming dumpster. Instead, his gaze had settled upon the small alleyway.

  A shiny black sedan ambled its way toward the abandoned parking lot.

  “No way.” I stared at him, my eyes wide. “That had to be… what, less than two minutes?”

  “Well, I suspect they may have been snooping since yesterday,” he said grimly. “I had to fiddle with some things in order to set this up, but that’s not my point.” He leaned back and folded his hands. “They easily would have been here within ten minutes on their worst day.”

  The sedan pulled into the old parking lot and veered around a patch of broken concrete. It parked about thirty feet from the ravenous green fire, and both doors opened simultaneously.

  “How do they know?” I watched in wonder. Two of the creatures stepped out; one wore a suit and jacket, the other a black t-shirt, jeans, and sunglasses. They walked with inhuman grace, stopping a few meters from the fire.

  “I suspect they have some means of monitoring a given area for blips of supernatural hoodoo.” He scratched his beard. “Small things seem to get by them, but something overt or in the same location over and over, and they’ll show up.”

  “There must be millions of them. How else could they watch everything?” I shook my head in wonder. “Do you think—?”

  Below, a feral scream echoed through the parking lot, an unearthly wail that made the air tremble. The two figures closed in on the green flame, and the bizarre creature that lay at its center.

  “They’re doing something,” I whispered. “Hurting it somehow?”

  “We don’t know what it is they do. They’re not quite human, that’s all we know for certain.”

  The parking lot rippled, as if a blast wave vibrated through the air. They centered around one of the figures, and the world around him cascaded in tremors, for the barest moment.

  Just like that, the fire and the creature within it vanished. As if it had never been.

  “What was that?” I asked, breathless.

  “Quiescence,” he muttered. “That’s what I’ve always heard it called, anyway. Somehow, they have the power to completely shut down anything supernatural or strange just by their presence.”

  “Just by being close?”

  “That’s the point exactly.” His brows drew together. “It has something to do with proximity. It doesn’t last forever, neither. But for a few moments they can somehow turn off your special little knack like a light switch.”

  “Why?” I felt the color run from my face. “Why spend so much time and effort on…?” I waved one hand in their direction.

  “That seems to be their purpose,” Simon spoke gravely. “They’re intent on fluctuations in our world. They arrive, destroy whatever caused the shifts in reality, and vanish. Sometimes, I’ve heard, others follow them.”

  “Others?” I wrapped my arms around myself.

  “A clean-up crew of some kind. Most folks never remember the Silent Gentlemen, as if they never saw them at all.”

  “There must be a way to hide from them.”

  “Well,” he acknowledged, “just might be that some folks know a bit about that.” His face became grim. “But for now, no. For now, you keep your head down. No pulling large, overt tricks with your little knack. No shaping wind in the same place over and over.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Peaches.” His eyes hardened. “You see a Silent Gentleman coming your way, you do one thing.”

  “I run,” I sighed.

  “Their quiescence has a limited range. Once you’re inside it, you move. Fast.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Simon, I’m good at running, but how are we supposed to train a gift I can barely use?”

  Before he could answer, the creature in the suit stopped in place. He craned his head, searching, before staring squarely at us.

  I felt that gaze. It crept across the surface of my skin, like static-electric fire.

  “Oops. That’s the cue.” Simon placed one hand on my shoulder. “Questions later, Tiger Lilly. We gotta beat it.”

  “They won’t connect that… fire to us?” I squeaked.

  “Probably not, especially as long as you don’t pull any voodoo. Still—”

  “We don’t wanna find out. Got it.”

  With that, Simon and I made our way back into the building, and from there he guided me to the elevator. Eventually we came to the basement.

  “You asked if it was possible to hide from them.” He chuckled as he pulled out an old, black key. “Fact is I might have something to say on the subject.”

  “No way a key like that works in a modern building.”

  “This key—” He held it closer for my inspection. Sigils and Seals had been inscribed all along its length, carved deeply into the metal. “—will work wherever you need it to.”

  “Ah.” I nodded. “I should have known.”

  He unlocked the small door, gestured within, and gave me an enigmatic smile.

  “Honestly?” I stepped into the room, which appeared completely impossible. A huge, round window overlooked a busy street—a far cry from the basement we’d been in. “We’re in someone’s attic?” I glanced around at a labyrinth of dusty bookshelv
es. I couldn’t see far in the dim light, but it appeared that a man-sized birdcage had been pushed into one corner.

  “Someone’s,” he chuckled. “Yes.”

  “What’s this?” I crouched and peered at something on the floor near a heavy desk. I ran my hand lightly over an unfamiliar symbol engraved into the wood, bordered with deep blue stone inlay. A stylized eye, surrounded by unfamiliar letters.

  “That?” He quirked up an eyebrow. “It’s not for you to know. Far too mysterious.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Oh yes. This sigil, the Aegis of Dudael, is a dangerous secret. Why, simply hearing its name is said to drive one insane.”

  “Oh my. That sounds serious.” The left side of my mouth quirked up.

  “All of my secrets are serious,” he intoned. “Be careful.”

  “Including the secrets of hiding from the Silent Gentlemen?”

  “’Fraid so.” Simon shut the door behind us and stepped to the center of the eye. He touched the marking, whispered, and it pulsed once, a faint sky blue. “I’m willing to discuss it, but we’re going to have to hole up for a couple hours.”

  “Good. I’d like some answers.”

  “You won’t like these.” He sat on a crate and huffed out a breath. “Universally, stories of the Silent Gentlemen are horrific things, kid. They’re stories where things never end well for whatever they’re chasing.”

  “I see.” I sat in an old office chair and spun a bit. “I suppose you should tell me anyway.”

  He did. We hid there for the next couple of hours and discussed the Silent Gentlemen. He told me stories of disappearances, of people losing time, of waking up inside incomprehensible laboratories.

  Yet there were more stories. Tales of creatures that fed on humans only to ultimately end up slaughtered by the Silent Gentlemen. He spoke of hidden facilities, government workshops, and research stations where inhuman automatons conducted experiments on unwilling participants.

  These stories did nothing to lessen my concerns.

  3

  September 26, 1997- Present Day