Deicide

by M. K. Gibson

  “So, someone hacked the system,” Messer said. “What about the lawyer? As far as we know, he was the last to see Whiskers alive.”

  “Anything they talked about is privileged information,” the warden said as she took a seat behind her desk. “And if we suspect that the lawyer is culpable in a crime, it will take a judge to subpoena the lawyer’s recordings.”

  “You don’t have a monitoring system?” Ito asked.

  “Of course we do,” Warden Osirin said. “But we cannot legally record confidential meetings.”

  “And the Eye?” Ito asked.

  Warden Osirin chuckled. “This is the Black Obelisk. Even the Eye can’t see here.”

  “So, even if we get a subpoena, what are the odds the lawyer will either turn them over, or will have mysteriously lost them?”

  Messer rubbed a hand over his face. Ito was right. But there was something more to this. He could feel it.

  “Bethany, we have a suspect in holding who is being prepared for transfer here.”

  “Is this suspect related to Whiskers and your ongoing investigation?” Osirin asked.

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head. “Then for the foreseeable future, I cannot recommend you bring them here to our holding facility. Until we know what is going on, I’m afraid the The Black Obelisk is closed.”

  “I understand,” Messer said. “Gabby, Ito, let’s go.”

  The three agents departed the warden’s office and made their way back towards the ley-line transport room.

  “So what’s the plan, boss?” Ito asked. “You want me to see what I can dig up on this Laughing Man? I still have a few CI’s out there who owe me.”

  “Yeah, do that,” Messer said. “And while you’re at it, call in the reserves. Gabby will provide backup and transportation.”

  “You sure about that?” Ito asked.

  “Whoever this prick is, they’re cleaning shop. We need as many sets of eyes as possible.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  14 May - 8:15 pm

  The Siren’s Cove, District of Windport

  “Don’t screw this up,” Cass said.

  “Bite me,” Jessie said back.

  “Woo!” Eric cheered, then dipped his cheese fries into a tub of ranch dressing and popped them into his mouth.

  Looking at the two women together wasn’t unlike the sampler platter he was feasting on. On paper, ranch and fries shouldn’t go together. But for some dumb reason, they work. Granted, just like the ranch and fries, DeLeon and Cross could end up killing him.

  Eh. Eric shrugged and took another bite. With what he’d been through in the last couple of days, he’d earned it.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to the stage Cassy and Jessie! This time, it’s a duet!” the satyr DJ announced. “So let’s put our hands together and let them hear the love!”

  The first few notes of the song played, and Eric heard several of the people “ooh” at the song choice. He smiled. Once again, his mad genius had found just the right song to set the stage.

  Jessie, dressed this time in simple jeans and a t-shirt, gripped her microphone like it was cobra trying to bite her, and she looked like she was about to throw up. Cass, on the other hand, looked as cool as ever in a dark blue bodysuit and black hair. But once she heard the notes, she shook her head in frustration.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you,” she mouthed from the small stage.

  Eric just smiled. He’d picked the song and their parts for a reason.

  “Under Pressure.”

  Jessie’s higher-pitched voice was perfect to sing-talk her way through the Freddy Mercury parts, while Cass’s sultry voice was pure Bowie.

  Eric started snapping in time to the music. People at the table next to him joined in. Because that was the beauty of karaoke. Be good, be bad, it didn’t matter. Just be.

  Over the next few minutes, Eric marveled at the sight. No, he didn’t expect perfection. Be he did get what he was after. When Jessie’s voice began to falter from fear, Cass stepped up. She threw her arm around the shorter woman and sang next to her. And that’s when it happened.

  The two women began to laugh as they sang.

  As they did, the audience began to clap and sing along, cheering them on. Classics were classics for a reason. Even done badly, which it was, it still made people happy. And to be frank, anyone who didn’t like that song was someone Eric didn’t want in his life. Now, would he go so far as to plant evidence on them and send them to jail for ninety days?

  Yeah.

  It was a good song, after all.

  The song finished and was met with thunderous applause and cheers from the crowd. Jessie tried to hide her smile with the microphone. Cass, on the other hand, threw her arms out wide and threw air kisses at everyone. Which was odd. In their professional lives, Cass shunned attention while Jessie sought it out.

  Both of them needed this. They needed the moment of humanity. Jessie’s continued education about teamwork was paying off. While Cass . . . well, Cass needed the release and the moment of zen. Seeing Kyle had hit her hard. No matter how cool she played it, he knew her better than anyone.

  Which was why he was pushing the women together. Gender norms being what they are, sometimes a girl just needs the company of another girl. Well, he wasn’t what Cass needed. Were they friends? Of course. Forever. But there were things he just could not bring to their relationship. And that was okay. We’re not meant to be everything to everyone.

  “Not bad,” Cass said as she sat down. “An improvement.”

  “Thanks?” Jessie said, quirking an eyebrow.

  “Very nice ladies, very nice,” Eric said, passing them both a fresh bottle of beer. “Sooner or later, y’all will learn not to bet against me.”

  Jessie double-checked her own bottle before taking a sip. She still had a genuine smile on her face. Eric hid his pride with another mouthful of fries and ranch.

  “Jesus, Arby, that’s going to kill you,” Cass said.

  “That, and it’s disgusting,” Jessie said. “Who puts ranch on fries?”

  “Don’t judge me,” Eric said. “After nearly dying on the highway yesterday and the running today, I need the sustenance.”

  “You need vegetables,” Cass said, then sipped from her beer.

  “That is true,” Eric said. “And if they tasted as good as this, I’d eat them instead.”

  “So, you think Whiskers talked?” Jessie asked as she rubbed her thumb against the bottle’s label.

  Cass shook her head. “I don’t know. If he’s smart, he will. This Laughing Man is cleaning house.”

  “It does support our theory that the doc was a crook,” Eric said. “No other reason to take her out.”

  Jessie nodded. “So do you think the rest of the support group is involved?”

  “Maybe? Probably? There are too many variables to see. Too many unknowns,” Cass shrugged, then took another sip of her beer.

  Eric knew this was killing her. Everything with Kyle aside, he knew that she hated unknowns. Back when they were detectives, he took the lead most of the time. But when the opportunity came up for undercover work, where she could plan operations, she jumped at it. And like a good friend, he had followed. She had excelled there. Pretending and planning was what Cass was made for.

  “So what do we know then?” Jessie said. “Unknown kingpin is eliminating their network. Has gods for clientele and employees. It’s likely—”

  “Save it,” Cass said, setting her beer down. “I think I’d just like to rest for now. Gonna head home and wash this day off.”

  “We still have work to do,” Jessie said.

  “Arby, deal with the young,” Cass said as she dropped a few bucks on the table for the beer and left. “Catch y’all tomorrow.”

  “The young?” Jessie said. “Dios, could she be more condescending?”

  “Very much so,” Eric said. “Don’t take it personally. She and I were both like you when we started out. But cop li
fe isn’t like normal life. It’s like the military. You don’t get to leave work at work. You don’t get to unsee the things we’ve seen. You carry it all with you. Always. The successes, sure. But also the horrors of what people can do to other people. So when you get a chance to walk away, even for a few hours, you take it.”

  “Cross is probably just going to go bang Ted again.”

  “Probably,” Eric said. “So what if she is? After everything she’s seen, she’s earned it.”

  “I’ve seen my share of shit.”

  Eric nodded. “I’m sure you have. But it’s cumulative. Give it a bit longer.”

  “You want me to feel bad for wanting to bust criminals?”

  Eric sighed. Youth.

  “You’ve seen bad guys hurt good people. Makes you want to defend them, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, why are they bad?” Eric asked. “Did they choose crime for fun, or was it the only way to exist in a mad world?”

  “Are you going to give me that ‘the society we established breeds criminals’ crap? Because as you so subtly pointed out, I grew up in the system. And look at me.”

  Eric bit his tongue and collected his thoughts. He took another sip of his beer, then set the bottle down.

  “Yeah, look at you. A victim of confirmation bias. Because you did it, everyone can?”

  “Well—”

  “Shut up, New Girl. Just—just shut up,” Eric said, rubbing at his face. “I’ve seen murderers, rapists, drug dealers, and worse.”

  “So have I,” Jessie said.

  “But have you seen dead kids with still-smoking guns in their hands?!” Eric barked, slapping his hand down on the table. “The ones who moments before had been shooting at you? The kids you had to put down? Because I have. Have you then had to look their parents in the eyes and tell them you’re the one who killed their kid? Because I have. And explaining to them that their kid was a criminal doesn’t work. Have you ever had to explain to your own mother that your brother was shot because you—never mind,” Eric said.

  “It’s okay,” Jessie said. “Cross told me.”

  “It wasn’t her place to tell you that.”

  Jessie stared at him. “It was after you called out me being an orphan.”

  “Sorry about that,” Eric sighed. “Kid, I’ve seen so much suffering from the hands of cruel people. Some would call them evil. But the truth is . . . they’re people. And people, whether myth or mundane, are both good and bad. And the only thing that separates us and them is a decision, because life isn’t fair. We are not all created equal. And those at the bottom are no different from anyone else. They simply have less.”

  “You done with your soap box?” Jessie asked. “Yeah, they made a choice, or a series of choices. But they still committed the acts, and we put them down. If left unchecked, the wave of those who take and hurt others rises.”

  “Yeah, we stop the bad guys,” Eric said. “But when we do, a new one pops up. And in case you haven’t gotten it, our job isn’t to fight crime. We hold the line. That’s it. The line between chaos and order where people, good and bad, get hurt. We hold it as long as we can. Until either our body or our minds break. Then someone else comes along to take our spot. And if we trained them well enough, then we can leave our post knowing the line will hold. So when you get a chance to just relax, you take it.”

  Eric stood and dropped a few more dollars on the table.

  “I’m going home, Jessie. I suggest you do the same.”

  ********

  14 May - 9:32 pm

  1st Precinct Detention Facility, District of Axis Mundi

  Messer passed a couple of young patrolmen as he walked down the hall towards Interrogation Room 3. He nodded to them and they nodded back with a polite “Detective Sergeant.”

  How he missed being young. Seeing the world through eyes that had not seen oceans of pain and countless sins. But those eyes, and the young man they had belonged to, had died long ago.

  Messer turned the corner and came up on Interrogation Room 3. Dialing the code on the pad, the electronic lock clicked open and Messer let himself in. Vulcan sat as he had, in enchanted manacles at the steel table.

  “Anything else I can’t help you with, Sergeant?” Vulcan asked.

  Messer sat down opposite the god, rested his elbows on the table, and interlaced his fingers. Looking down, Messer took a moment to collect his thoughts.

  “You know what’s going on, don’t you?”

  Vulcan smiled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Too bad the half-breed isn’t here to read my mind.”

  Messer looked up into the god’s eyes. “I don’t need him to tell that you’re scared.”

  “No, I suppose the The Knight of the Knife has many tricks.”

  “Haven’t been called that in a long time.”

  “Too bad the younger myths don’t know your reputation.”

  “Yeah, too bad,” Messer said. “You know, the Laughing Man is cutting ties.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” Messer said. “I think you know it. And I think you’re scared.”

  “Do you know why he’s called ‘The Laughing Man’?”

  “No.”

  “Because he always gets the last laugh.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  14 May - 9:35 pm

  Boreas Bungalows, Building #9, Apt. 202, District of Windport

  After leaving her Ch’Über-Cab’ra, Jessie walked into her apartment building and made her way up the wooden stairs to her door. She fumbled with her keys out of frustration. The entire cab ride home, she couldn’t get Arby’s words out of her head.

  How dare he talk down to her? Especially after she saved his life. She’d proven herself over the last couple of days. Of the three of them, she was the youngest and brightest to be recruited into MORTAL. Dios, of course he’d seen more tragedy—he’d been a cop longer— but she wasn’t a damn rookie.

  And that entire bit about holding the line? What kind of crap was that? Their job was to put bad guys away. To show the citizens that crime would be punished. Period. Anything beyond that was just . . . masturbatory poetic crap. Why is it when people reach a certain age they always try and turn something simple into something philosophical?

  The key finally found its way into the slot. She opened her door and moved on autopilot. She hit the lights, locked her door, tossed her keys into the bowl on the stand by the door, and then set her sidearm and badge on her kitchenette’s bar-style table.

  She was too angry for bed, no matter how tired she was. Maybe a little TV? Yes. But she was not going to aimlessly scroll through streaming options in her jeans.

  Jessie made her way down the hall to her bedroom.

  The door was shut. Huh.

  She didn’t remember shutting it before she left. Jessie placed her left hand on the knob and turned it. Pushing the door open, she stepped into the dark room. The flash of the red laser sight was the only warning she had before the intruder in her room opened fire.

  ********

  14 May - 9:37 pm

  1st Precinct Detention Facility, Interrogation Room 3, District of Axis Mundi

  “What do you mean, the last laugh?”

  “Let me guess. Dr. Harris is dead, isn’t she?” Vulcan asked.

  Messer paused, considering his response. After a few moments, he nodded. “Yes, she is.”

  Vulcan nodded. “Makes sense. It’s like I told you before. I don’t know who he is. And to be honest, I don’t even know if it’s a he at all. But this person has maintained a small empire under your nose for a long time. That bothers you, doesn’t it.”

  “Yes,” Messer said honestly.

  “That’s what I’m trying to impress on you. You only have a lead because Hermes blew up. Not because of your detective work.”

  “All criminals make a mistake. Sooner or later.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, Sergean
t,” Vulcan said. “May I ask, where did Dr. Harris die?”

  “On the trans-line highway.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Why?” Messer asked.

  “Amazing how well he can keep tabs on people, wouldn’t you agree?”

  ********

  14 May - 9:38 pm

  Boreas Bungalows, Building #9, Apt. 202, District of Windport

  On instinct, Jessie dropped her knees and dove to the right just as the as the gun went off. A bullet clipped her left shoulder and she screamed in pain. But as she fell, Jessie managed to flip the switch on the wall, turning on her bedroom light. The assailant grunted as the night vision goggles he was wearing fried his eyes from the sudden burst of light.

  With the light on, Jessie saw that the gunman was armed with an ACP handgun and a pistol-grip shotgun on a tactical sling. Pulling his NVG’s back, she saw that he was a medium-sized goblin-like creature wearing black tactical gear and a red balaclava.

  A redcap. Goblin assassins who took pleasure in their kills.

  Staying low, Jessie lurched back to the door and into the hallway. The gunman stored his sidearm and blind fired with the shotgun at chest level, hoping the spread would hit her. Several of the pellets pierced her left calf as she scrambled back towards her front door where her weapon was located. Again, Jessie cried out and slumped against the hallway wall. Shifting to her right side, she pulled herself down the hall with her good arm and good leg, all the while leaving a bloody trail behind her.

  There was no way she was getting her safety deposit back.

  The path to her living room was only ten feet, and another five after that to where her gun was.

  But fifteen feet might as well be fifteen miles.

  Get up! she told herself. Get your goddamn gun or you’re gonna die!

  Adrenaline surged through Jessie’s body as she forced herself to her knees, then to her wobbly feet. With her hand on the wall for support and taking limping steps, she forced herself towards her kitchenette. From behind, she heard the pump of the shotgun.