Ghosts of Koa, The First Book of Ezekiel

by Colby R Rice

  His phone chimed. A message. He raised an eyebrow, shooting back a quick reply as he turned the last corner, entering the Detective's wing. His office was thirty feet away, looking relatively undisturbed as cops buzzed around the halls. Before he reached it, though, his door opened. Out stepped Cotch, whose silver gaze caught his immediately.

  Caleb narrowed his eyes, feeling poison fill him from the bottom up. It was the first time they'd really seen each other since the arson, and his skin was already boiling. Why this asshole had been in his office he couldn't tell, but whatever his reason, Caleb was sure he hadn't stopped by to bring in tea and biscuits.

  Cotch's gaze danced merrily as they closed the distance between each other. He was baiting him, and Caleb was tempted to jump at it like a frog, right here, right now. He clenched his fists, feeling power build in his arms as he approached-- until he noticed a quick flutter in the shadows of the hallway clutter. The movements were slight and brief, but Caleb knew the travel path of an Echo when he saw one. Cotch's was following him down the hall, using spots of darkness as pathways.

  Cheating bastard.

  Unless Caleb had his powers or the Black Matter Glaive, Cotch's pet would tear him apart before the fight was over-- though Caleb was sure he'd be able to knock a few teeth into the back of his throat before the end of it. The thought almost made dying worth it, just to bash this fucker's face in. Reason won out, however, and hating himself, he unclenched his fists, choosing life. They finally closed the distance, and without a word, Caleb side-stepped him.

  Cotch cocked his head, and sneering, stepped back into his path, blocking him. Reason fled Caleb's body, and he tightened his fists again, ready to swing.

  "Problem, Cotch?"

  "None. Except that you seem to be in my way."

  "Isn't everyone?" Caleb brushed past him. "Go fuck yourself."

  "With the utmost masturbatory delight... while I think about how you murdered that little girl."

  Caleb turned, burning with hate. Xakiah smiled tightly, the Echo rippling in the shadows of his heels. Caleb snarled and continued down the hall, already making the promise to himself: whether it was today, tomorrow, or years from now, that bastard KX Cotch was going to pay.

  Councilman Micah Burke ran to the evac copter, clutching a single briefcase with a trembling, sweaty hand. She wouldn't dare appear here, that bitch, and if she did, the APs were going to blast that crispy shrew back to Hell where she belonged. Coward or not, he was done. The Protected Demesnes had been sacrificed to the bloodlust of Koa and the Alchemic Order, and he'd be damned if he'd carry their crosses on his back.

  An Azure soldier waved him into the chopper. "Glad you could make it, sir! We were going to pull off without you!"

  "Damned if you are!" Burke managed a laugh as he settled into one of the seats, a laugh that was tinged with fear and relief. He was finally going to make it out of here. Finally.

  The soldiers ushered in a few other Azures before they slid the door shut, and one of the Azures hobbled over and sat next to him. She was as old as Father Time's toenails and smelled like it too, with tattered gray hair and a neck that was as stiff and twisted as a metal snake. The hooked nose and sagging skin beneath her chin made her look very much like a vulture... one that had been born a hundred years ago. The ridiculous number of jewels and bangles on her fingers and wrists though told Micah that she was Azure; though at this rate, yelling it from a mountaintop might have been a bit more modest.

  "How do you get this confounded thing on?" The woman screeched. "Damned civvies must have designed this crap technology!"

  Burke was going to offer help until the man and young girl across from her got up hurriedly and fixed her in. The poor bastards looked like her husband and child, and Burke pitied them. They weren't family as much as servants, it seemed. A weird, sad sight, but at least they were together. Unlike him and his family.

  Soon, though. Soon.

  He thought of his son Bowdan and his wife Phoebe, who would be waiting for him in the Fifty-Second Demesne at the Twelfth House. Phoebe will have cooked a nice spread, and Bowdan would certainly have jokes and stories of his exploits, and Burke could barely wait for any of it. Him turning tail wouldn't sit well with the local press, but he no longer cared... they could stay and burn with the rest of them. Military personnel of the Alchemic Order had arrived at his doorstep only an hour or so after the bombings, debriefing him on their plans to evacuate their high officials from the Protecteds. Luckily, he'd still been on the Order's VIP list. Somehow.

  The copter started up, and as its deep hum filled Burke's ears, he understood it as a hymn of freedom, one that he'd been waiting for for years. The metal bird lifted, and from the window, Burke watched the city beneath him shrink away, already shrouded in a rising ash-- and he felt nothing, not even as the sound of gunfire peppered the distance and Demesne Seven began to die.

  Arms crossed, Caleb leveled his gaze with Persaud's. "You're joking, right?"

  Persaud smiled. "Not at all, Proficient. In fact, the order is from the top. The Executive Board believes this investigation to be a top priority."

  Caleb scoffed, shaking his head. "This is insane. Sal Morgan's dead, Koa just did a fucking bukkake on the Protected Demesnes, and you want me to take on a new assignment?"

  "An assignment that will allow you to kill all those other birds with this one stone. You're the perfect man for the job aside from one other, who has already been debriefed and has agreed to be a part of the team."

  Caleb narrowed his eyes. "Cotch."

  "You two are the only officers in the Fifth who have truly familiarized themselves with the ghosts of war. But like most Corporal Alchemists, Cotch has a more-- hands-on approach. We need someone to temper him, balance his tactile approach with Druidic reason. If anyone can approach this assignment with the delicacy it needs, it's you."

  Caleb rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Delicacy. Goes great with the names I've picked up recently: dollhouse, fairy, pencil pusher. Now I'm 'delicate'. And I get to form a dream team with a mercenary who, if he were on fire, I wouldn't piss on to put out. Give me more to get jazzed about, why don't you?"

  "It is an honor, Caleb. The greatest honor and opportunity an Azure law enforcement officer could receive."

  "It's also excessive. You want me to form a Hunter's Cell to find a child."

  "Not just any child. This-- rogue Azure-- successfully robbed your precinct using powers that remain unregistered with the Order. Metal to fabric, Proficient. And back again. Skipping three levels of transformation, with no traces of First Matter cycling left behind. Do you realize the implications of this?"

  "I realize the implications of bringing a kid up on criminal charges."

  Persaud's lip curled. "Your refusal to track down this new criminal does not speak well for your loyalty to the Alchemic Order. A bad choice indeed considering your current circumstances. Your arrogance may just undo the seams on your closed file... and you know where that will lead."

  "To no hotter a hell than what already waits for me. After what you and Cotch forced me to do to her--"

  "Don't fool yourself, Caleb. You did the poor girl a favor. Where would she have ended up but chained to Morgan's bed, serving until he saw no further use for her? Morgan was cruel. We are not. You ended her pain."

  "She burned alive."

  "Some would say fire is quite cleansing, the highest form of rapture and redemption."

  "You're a piece of shit, Persaud."

  "You can fight the repeal of the Articles39 all you want, but it won't change anything. It has been signed into law, a law that you are expected to uphold as an officer and second-degree Alchemist."

  "An officer and second-degree Alchemist. Hm. Last time I checked, I was the soft-bellied, porcelain doll who'd paid his way up the ranks. Now, all of a sudden, you want to put me at the head of one of the most important manhunts the Order has launched in decades. Doesn't quite add up, if you ask me."


  Persaud sighed and raised his hand. "Come, Proficient. Let us change the tone of our rapport. It's uncomfortable and unproductive to say the least. Let's start over." He sat forward, lacing his fingers on the desk. "Only your parents and I know the true extent of your skills as a Druidic Alchemist. You are phenomenal, as superior and as enigmatic as this new rogue Alchemist, dare I say. I've missed seeing you wield your power. Truly."

  "You enjoyed clipping my nuts along with Father and the rest of them, Vassal," Caleb spat. "So you'll excuse me if I don't eat up your sugar-coated crap."

  "I was a jealous man then. Yes, Vassals may begrudge their apprentices. I've since regretted having to bind such great power. I know you do too." Persaud cocked his head, his sycophantic smile widening. "You've been feeling... repressed as of late, Caleb, haven't you? Unable to be who you truly are, to exercise your alchemic and physical power at their true potentials? What if I could offer you the chance of reclaiming that former glory... by removing the Promethean seal."

  Caleb raised a brow. "So now we've gone from threatening to bribing. Things seem to be looking up in the world of Rai. Except you misunderstand me, Vassal. My freedom is more important to me than my Azurehood."

  Persaud chuckled. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Proficient. Your power and your freedom are two separate issues, brought on by two separate transgressions. I'm offering you the opportunity to rectify one of them. As for the other, that will still require the ugly business of returning the Black Matter Glaive."

  Caleb returned to his coffee.

  "You can refuse. But we both know that your time is running out. You can agree to track down this rogue Alchemist and reclaim your former powers. Or you can refuse, and allow your potential as an Alchemist to shrivel and die inside of you-- stillborn-- along with everything else you've ever loved and fought for."

  Persaud propped his fedora on his head, and he left, leaving Caleb with his thoughts. After a minute or so, Caleb turned to the far corner.

  "Thoughts?"

  Luke stepped out of the shadows, having just been ushered through by his own personal Echo. The creature had been listening in the entire time. While Caleb wasn't sure if Persaud had sensed the Echo there, he was sure glad Luke had messaged him and told him about his eavesdropping plan before the debrief. The more intel that the Ethics Department gathered on the goings-on of the Demesne Five Headquarters, the better, and Luke had just gotten an earful.

  "Well... you were right for one. They are definitely strong-arming the hell out of the system. My apologies for not believing you before."

  Caleb shrugged. "Sometimes we have to learn this stuff on our own time."

  As Luke sat in one of the chairs in their office, his Echo came round to settle him in, taking his jacket and placing it on the door peg. The creature was decidedly more pleasant-looking than Cotch's. It was silver and short, with a bow tie, scruffy hair, and a perpetual serving tray, which it extended graciously to Caleb and Luke, offering espresso, tea, coffee, and a variety of cakes. Caleb took a shot of espresso and some yellow pound cake with gratitude. Luke took a tea before he bade the Echo leave, and it sank back into shadow.

  "So?" Caleb asked.

  Luke began to stir his tea, a light darjeeling in a gold and enamel teacup. Caleb raised an eyebrow, amused. However well-bred Luke was, he didn't seem at all disturbed by the chaos around him. Maybe there were some benefits to being a Theosophic Alchemist after all. Yoga, or meditation, or something.

  "You should take the job," Luke said finally. "And you should bring me on board."

  Caleb stared at him, shocked.

  "Think about it," Luke continued. "If you don't do this, Cotch will. If you're really about Civilian justice, you wouldn't let him have free reign over the Fifth. You'd take the job. And if you want to do some actual good, you'll need me on the team. You need a third man for the Hunter's Cell, anyway. Someone who knows law, ethics, field medicine. I can serve in those capacities and also help you keep things on an even keel... especially if Cotch is involved."

  "Just a pencil pusher, huh?" Caleb eyed him warily. "Didn't know they covered field ops in law school."

  Luke smiled. "Theosophists push all kinds of lead, detective. Training for Internal Affairs-- for the Ethics Committee, rather-- I was sworn in as an officer and apprenticed as a trauma surgeon for the field. Courtesy of my Vassal, Micah Burke. I've been trained. Thoroughly."

  "Lord only knows how that slipped my notice." Caleb looked at Luke's gilded tea cup.

  "It seems we have both underestimated each other, detective." This time, as Luke looked at him, there was real compassion. Whatever he'd seen in Caleb's long term memory seemed to have changed him. "Just to let you know, I've dropped the murder case against you, citing insufficient evidence. In exchange, I want a place in the Hunter's Cell. I also want full protection for this child Alchemist-- warrants, due process-- the whole nine yards. I want it all by the book. No vigilante justice."

  Caleb nodded. "Deal. What do you advise?"

  "The rogue Azure is a criminal. But he is still a child. We'll proceed with that in mind."

  "You know if I bring him in, he'll see no justice in the High Halls."

  "Perhaps. But if you don't, neither will you. You might be a Prince of the Order, Caleb, but that won't mean a thing if you betray them. Your file can stay closed only for so long."

  Caleb looked off, wrestling with the thoughts. This was a trap, that much was clear; like him, Persaud couldn't lie worth a damn. Caleb didn't expect his life to change a lick even if his team did catch the defecting Alchemist. At the same time, Luke was right. Whoever this kid was, Cotch and the Order would show him no mercy. Besides, if Caleb refused to perform his duties without a sound reason, especially when called forward by the Executive Board, his insubordination would be seen as treason. No closed file would keep the hellfire from raining down, that much was true.

  On the brighter side, the Hunter's Cell would allow them access to better, almost endless, resources. Weapons, vehicles, manpower, intel. Maybe along with the investigation, they'd be able to fight Koa. And maybe he'd actually make some headway with the other mysteries that had fallen into his lap. The Ninkashi, the ghosts of Koa, Sal Morgan.

  And that rogue Azure... the way he'd looked into the camera...

  Caleb reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, feeling calmer than he'd felt in months.

  Luke nodded in understanding and stood up. "I'll get started on the paperwork." He grabbed his jacket and left, heading towards the cold room to start pulling files.

  The phone rang only once before Persaud picked up, and before his Vassal even began to speak, Caleb could hear his triumphant smile carry through the airwaves.

  "Proficient! What a delightful and unexpected surprise..."

  The burlap bag had been sitting over Zeika's head for about an hour before it was removed. The ghosts of Hollow 12 had walked-- sloshed rather-- through a whole system of tunnels. Save for the fact that she had counted nearly 10,000 steps between Hollow 12 and where they finally sat her down, she had no clue where she was.

  The bag was snatched off and light and fresh air swept into her face. Her eyes adjusted to see that she was in another hovel, and it teemed with life as people filed into the room. She leaned forward and looked around, blinking in surprise when she noticed that she was the only one on the side wall for initiation. If this was rookie rush day, she was gonna get creamed. People barely even glanced her way, and when they did, they didn't look too amped to see her.

  "Sit back, chump." One of the older guy Koans kicked her back against the wall with his foot as he walked by.

  She cut him a nasty look and huffed, but then turned her attention back to the hovel, which was filling up fast. The attendees were rather diverse, if unkempt-looking. Everyone's clothes were patch-worked or dingy, hair tousled, hands calloused and dry. There were a lot of people she recognized. One of the bakers from the Co-op City Marketpl
ace. Corrine Lim, a former customer of her Forge. One of Baba's co-miners.

  Before bagging her, Johnny had told her that they had to attend the ambassador meeting, where they'd begin the initiation process.

  She raised an eyebrow. If these were 'ambassadors', then she was the empress of China.

  Yet, the snide thought didn't remove an ounce of nervousness. Not only for the initiation, but also because she'd heard explosions this morning. A lot of them. They'd woken her up, and she'd looked out into the hallway to see Turley, Greg, and Quinn sitting quietly outside her cell, in some sort of meditative silence. They had looked anxious, and while no one had discussed exactly what was happening, there had been a community between them, one that they had gladly shared with her as the world trembled.

  A tall man walked into her line of sight, looking down at her menacingly. An automatic rifle was strapped to his shoulder, and the white ceramic mask so typical of Koans rested atop his head.

  "Who activated the new tat?" The man demanded, looking around the hovel.

  "I did." From the audience, Johnny stood and put his hands in his pockets.

  The soldier wheeled on him. "I told you: no more recruits. The order was from the top. What the hell's the matter with you?"

  "She won't be getting in the way--"

  "Like hell she won't!"

  "Jared. She's here to fill in our empty slot, okay? That's it."

  "No, that's not it." And in two steps Jared was in front of her, hoisting her to her feet.

  "She's the one who killed Sal Morgan!" Johnny shouted angrily.

  The announcement pulled a hush over the bustle, and every single person turned to look at her, shocked.

  Jared grimaced and then turned to glare at her, his gaze of disapproval deepening the longer he looked at her. "Fine," he said finally. "We'll deal with you later." Then he turned to Quinn. "But if I have to put this little stray down, it's on your head."

  "Yeah. Right." Quinn rolled his eyes, and Jared strode off to the front, turning to his audience.