by Mason Dakota
Adam was responsible for the global genocide of the Illegals and the growing segregation between Outcasts and Nobles. His legislation since taking the throne increased hostilities and strife between the species. Under his command the peace talks between the Northern Territories and their king, Damien Waters, ended with capturing and imprisoning Damien and dismantling the government of the Northern Territories. There hasn’t been peace between the two nations in over three decades because of Adam Rythe.
Now this same tyrant was interested in the masked vigilante accused of destroying one of his largest economic hubs.
What good could come from getting the attention of that man?
“This is insane,” said Michael as he brushed a hand through his hair. He had syrup in his fingers, but didn’t appear to notice.
“What do we do?” asked Thomas.
I shrugged and said, “Haven’t figured that one out yet. She begged me to give up the mask.”
“The same request she made of you almost a year ago,” whispered Alison. She deserved the glare I gave her for bringing that up.
“Except instead of this being the death of our relationship now it’s the actual death of one of us,” I growled.
Alison opened her mouth but didn’t say a word. She couldn’t voice her thoughts, and even as I read them clearly on her face, her guilt gave her away. She and Evelyn were close and always had been. Though never saying it, she desired me to give myself up to save Evelyn—and everyone knew she felt guilty for having that desire.
My eyes went cold, communicating my own silent message back at her. I couldn’t tell if she got the message, but she likely did. A woman can always read a man. Chamberlain caught it and he rested a hand on Alison’s arm to soothe her.
“She suggested…we consider getting Gabriel to turn himself in as Shaman in my place.”
“An idea if he were here,” said Thomas bitterly. He didn’t know Gabriel, nor what Gabriel did to Chicago. To him, Gabriel was a hypothetical individual and in this case hypothetical people were always acceptable escape goats. I was thankful he didn’t know Gabriel. Thomas lost family during the crisis. He still mourned over that loss, and discovering who was to blame might set him off. Regardless of his ignorance, Thomas felt no allegiance to Gabriel, but he did to us. He was willing to have Gabriel turn himself in if it meant saving the rest of us.
An easy decision when you don’t know the guy.
“Nobody is turning anybody in,” said Chamberlain in his my word is law tone of voice. Nobody argued. Thomas looked a bit guilty for throwing the idea out there.
“Have you thought about hanging up the mantle of Shaman?” offered Michael.
I shook my head. “Too late for that. Jeremiah Lorre asked for Shaman’s help last night before I encountered Evelyn.”
“First Evelyn and then Lorre? Busy night,” said Thomas.
“What happened with Lorre?” questioned Alison. She was digging for some measure of redemption after her earlier silent suggestion.
I bit onto her hook. “Last night I was stopping a street fight between some punks and the Sabols.”
“They’re growing every day. There’s no shortage of willing recruits found in the shelters around the city. They’ve already completely taken over the Stinks,” said Alison.
“And getting more dangerous,” whispered Chamberlain.
“Last night’s little band was led by a man named Rigs. The ugliest Noble I’ve ever seen. Short of you, Thomas, of course.”
Thomas smirked at my attempt at humor. “I’ve heard of him. The guy is some sort of crazy anarchist. But how is he connected to Agent Lorre? Was it the Justicars? Are they after Rigs?”
“Probably? But no, I was fighting Rigs and Lorre stepped in. He had been looking for me…as Shaman…to ask me for help.”
“Lorre? You mean the man who swore to bring Shaman to justice no matter the cost? He asked for your help?” asked Michael.
“He’s desperate for help and doesn’t trust the Justicars to handle it.”
“Must be serious,” said Alison.
“Three Nobles have turned up sick with a deadly virus. One’s already dead.” Those pale faces returned again in a white flash. “He thought I was behind it first. When I convinced him differently, he figured I could be of some help.”
“Three Nobles sick!” whispered Thomas, gasping. The others were fearful at the news, but Thomas looked like the walking dead.
“He claims it infects only Nobles. Clues suggest it’s something man made and injected into the patients. Someone is deliberately doing this and targeting Nobles.”
Thomas pulled at his shirt collar with shaky hands. I didn’t blame him for being afraid. Nobles were bred to be completely immune to all diseases. It was the biggest component separating Nobles and Outcasts. Outcasts, and even Illegals, as evidenced by Chamberlain having the flu last year, could get sick. Nobles couldn’t. But if someone found a way to change that, and specifically target Nobles, the walls between the two groups would crumble. It might very well cause a catastrophe. Destroying the barriers of segregation by means of disease and hate would spark a genocidal war.
“Nebula?” Alison asked the question on everyone’s mind. I shrugged. At that moment I had no clue, but Nebula was definitely on my list of possible suspects. If anyone was capable of producing such a weapon, it was Nebula. Thankfully I knew of one Nebula agent still in the city, Ralph Erikson.
We will undoubtedly be having a nice chat soon about this.
“They could be involved. I’m going to dig into it. Before that, I intend to see these patients myself,” I said.
“I’ll get in touch with our homeless network and those at the shelters to find out what they’ve heard,” said Thomas.
“I’ll start looking into it as well,” said Michael, “I might know someone with answers.” None of us questioned him about his contact.
I checked my wind-up watch and about leapt from my chair.
“I’m late! I’ve got to get going. Besides, the happy couple needs time to plan for the special day tomorrow.” I winked at them and both of them blushed. I saw Chamberlain grab Alison’s hand and squeeze it tightly. It was always a comforting sight to see their happiness.
I got up from my spot, said my goodbyes, and then left the house. I got down to the bottom of the stairs before the front door opened and Alison stepped out. “Wait! I’m coming with you today,” she called.
“Don’t you have a wedding to prepare for?” I asked.
“And don’t you need someone to watch your back? You’re being hunted by the Lady, the Sabols, and now Evelyn. Even your pride must see that you need someone to watch your back. Besides, Chamberlain has got everything handled. I love the man, but he’s a bit overwhelming when it comes to weddings. He might even be more excited than I am to be getting married tomorrow. Either way, he doesn’t need me right now. You do.”
“If that were the case I would have asked Thomas to join me,” I said with a bit more spite than I intended. I don’t easily forgive, which is another one of my many character flaws.
“We both know deep down you’d enjoy my assistance. You didn’t ask Thomas and Michael because you’ll be around the Lady today and she’s seen their faces. She hasn’t seen mine except with the real you. And, you didn’t ask me because you assumed I was needed the day before my wedding. I’m the first bride in history who isn’t.”
She didn’t add why I didn’t ask for Chamberlain. We both knew why.
“So unless you’ve got some other excuse as to why I can’t join you today, you best start enjoying my company. Don’t you dare say you don’t want me tagging along because it’s dangerous or because I’m a woman. If you do, I’ll knock you out cold before you cross that gate.” There was a fire in her eyes and a smirk on her face that begged me to say something along those lines. I believed her threat just as I believed she was capable of accomplishing it…and enjoying it while she did.
I scoffed. “Not sure threatening
me is the best way to get what you want?”
She smirked. “What if I allowed you to take Chamberlain’s bike.
I chuckled. “I was already planning on stealing that!”
Thirteen
We went first to the Mayor’s office.
Only at the Mayor’s office was there power. The Lady had spent a fortune in city tax payers’ dollars to gut the electrical network running to this building, bring in resources from outside the city, and set up power in the government offices. Alexandra believed the people of Chicago needed to see their government was still standing. I think she just wanted air conditioning in her office for the summer.
Her assumption proved half-right. For some it did bring comfort to believe life would soon return to normal. For most it developed the opposite reaction. They saw it as the government protecting itself and even spoiling its officials while everyone else suffered without power. The Sabols used it as campaign propaganda, growing an audience of supporters. It didn’t help that the Lady had an armored limo brought in from out of town to drive her around the city.
The rich were able to afford the return of their luxuries while the rest of us suffered.
Hostility toward city government grew to the point that armed guards, members of Alexandra’s mob-infested police force, were stationed outside of the Mayor’s office all day every day. Those who worked in city politics, me, grudgingly, included, faced daily scrutiny and death threats from Sabol supporters.
As an Outcast and politician without protection, I was a sitting duck for the Sabols. Twice I tried to resign and twice the Lady refused to allow me, saying it wouldn’t do me any good as the Sabols would still try to kill me. In her words, it would be best to “grow a pair” and use my employment position to do some good while I could.
She didn’t seem worried about the Sabols.
I was.
We climbed up the marble steps leading to the front door that entered the Mayor’s office. Behind us the streets echoed, not with the sound of car horns as in the past, but of bicycle bells and horse hoofs clacking on the asphalt.
Not much had changed in lobby décor under new city leadership, except that a rougher crowd of mobsters lounged on the sofas by the front door. The building was filled with thugs, and there were more of them in the city than before the crisis. It seems if you weren’t a Sabol then you were part of Alexandra’s mob.
I refused to take the elevator. I hate them. They always give me motion sickness, so we took the stairs. Alison didn’t complain. Climbing through floors reminded me of how inconvenient workdays were before the building had power again. I enjoyed watching the lazy and surprisingly obese Nobles—a feat since their bodies had genetically enhanced metabolisms—climb the stairs day after day to get up to their offices, twelve or fifteen floors high.
We made it to my floor and headed straight for my office. My secretary, Clarissa, greeted me outside and said, “Good morning, sir. Mayor Carline is in your office waiting for you. I would hurry, dear. The Mayor does not seem to be in a good mood today.”
“Thank you Clarissa and I must say you look lovely this morning.” I moved past her toward my office. I came to a halt a few feet from the door for one last moment of peace. I really didn’t want to go in, but I had no choice. I reached forward, opened the door, and walked into my office.
My office is a broom closet.
Kraine intended that to be an insult. I tried to use the dismal room to remind myself why I had the job. It was my responsibility to make things better. Oddly, I was grateful to Kraine for that reminder.
In that spirit, I left my office in a perpetual mess.
My walls were a soul sucking tone of gray mixed with lime. I had an old wooden desk held together with glue and duct tape. The corners resembled chew toys for an invisible pack of dogs with how scratched up they were. To get behind the desk to my chair, I had to climb over the desk surface.
I didn’t have a nice comfy chair behind the desk either, but a metal fold-up chair with a pillow. A single matching chair sat in front of the desk. I dreaded the cluttered, countless paperwork scattered about the room. I had put in a shelf in the only place I could…right above where I sat. I constantly bumped my head against it, but it was the only place I had to store files. The room had a musty chemical scent that forced me, just so I could breathe, to keep the door ajar and expose my shameful position to everyone who went by.
However, the most dreaded sight in the room was always former mob boss, Mayor Alexandra Carline leaning up against my desk. The most dangerous woman in the city was now the most powerful, thanks to me. Before the EMP went off, I, as Shaman made a promise to ensure her spot as Mayor in exchange for enlisting her help to save Chicago. It was easy to make her Mayor when people already saw her as a hero.
She turned Chicago into her kingdom. Every week new laws were established to benefit her and her criminal enterprises. Everyone knew she still ran the criminal underground, but the people didn’t care once they saw her as a hero. I wasn’t about to put my neck on the chopping block to change their opinions.
I smiled and pleasantly said, “Good morning Alexandra. You look ravishing as always.”
I had learned how to best approach Alexandra. For example, I didn’t even breathe around her when she was reading. I always greeted her with a compliment, even a fake one, in an attempt to get on her good side. I don’t ever recall seeing a good side, but anything proved better than her bad side. One did not want to live on the city’s leading crime lord’s bad side.
“You’re late,” she growled.
“You have no idea how bad traffic was. Not a single car moved out there,” I joked.
“This is no time to be funny.” She wasn’t happy with me. Typical day. Her happiness lay in the pages of her books, not in the company of people. I noticed she had a book tucked under her arm, likely to entertain herself with some fantasy as she waited on me.
“Oh, I’m not joking. Traffic really is dead out there. If you don’t believe me you can look out the window and see for yourself. Nothing is moving,” I said, unable to help myself.
“You’re twenty minutes late. That’s twenty minutes off your paycheck.”
“Well I hate to think that I kept you from any real work. If you’ve got something to say then spit it out because I have a lot of work I need to get done today.”
With an angry glare in her eyes, Alexandra stepped toward me.
She was a very beautiful woman. Only a bind fool could deny it. She stood just above five feet tall, a few inches taller than Evelyn, and full of ferocity. She had long dark brown, almost black, naturally curly hair that she straightened for special occasions. Her dark eyes slanted as though her face was designed to match her mischievous behavior. Her intentional gaze communicated calculated anger.
“You will speak to me with respect or you won’t speak at all.” It wasn’t a request. It was a threat. I tried to ignore her, and hide my fear by imagining a bucket of water being dumped on her head. She gave no time to listen for my reply before she continued speaking. She surely judged her victory by the flash of submission in my eyes.
“Good,” she purred.
At that moment she noticed Alison standing silently behind me. “And I see that on top of being late for work, you brought a date.”
“Oh no, not a date.”
“You’re familiar,” Alexandra said ignoring me, “Weren’t you Griffon’s date to Josephus’ ball six months ago?”
Alison nodded. “Yes, I was.”
“I remember you were one of the few who defended themselves that night. You can really throw a knife. Very impressive.”
Alison shrugged. “Lucky shot.”
“By the way you handled yourself, I’m not sure if you were Griffon’s date or his bodyguard.”
“Date,” said Alison, who was normally talkative, but kept a tight lip. I could sense her nervousness.
“Shame. As I recall, Griffon needed a bodyguard that night,” mocked Alexandra.
She referred to my humiliating beating by Ziavir in front of Chicago’s most powerful people. She was looking for every opportunity to chip away at my armor. It worked.
Alison opened her mouth, possibly to defend me—or so I hoped—but Alexandra cut her off by saying, “And apparently congratulations are in order. Griffon, you never told me you were engaged.” Her eyes scanned Alison’s ring. There was a spark of recognition in Alexandra’s eyes. My stomach turned as I remembered that it was Alexandra’s ring that I (as Shaman) had stolen from her own safety deposit box months before. I saw the wheels turning in her mind.
Alison saw it, too and faked a blush and folded her hands behind her back to hide the ring. Meanwhile I stuttered, “Oh no—we’re not engaged. Not even dating. Alison is engaged to someone else.”
“So you either brought someone else’s girl on a beautiful date or she moved on very quickly,” said Alexandra. She was trying to push our buttons.
“Well, no, that’s not exactly—”
Alexandra interrupted me, “Or is this your way of saying that the only date you could get that night was another man’s girl? That right there is a pity date, Griffon. Quite embarrassing.”
“Excuse me…” My face was getting red. Alison was a deer in the headlights.
“I’ll take that to be true. But that doesn’t answer why she is here today.”
“She is…”
“His bodyguard for the day,” blurted Alison.
Alexandra perked up an eyebrow and said, “And who exactly does he need protection from? You aren’t suggesting me are you?” Alexandra turned her eyes on me.
Yes!
Alison said, “No…but I’m starting to feel like I should protect Griffon from you.”
Alexandra’s burning glare flashed at Alison. Her lips quivered, like she was holding back fangs. Alexandra was a Noble, Alison was an Outcast, and by law such a snarky comment—especially to the Mayor—could get Alison flogged or even executed. Alison knew this too, but she matched Alexandra glare for glare.