Cloak (YA Fantasy)

by James Gough

  “Well, I guess introductions are in order. Will Tuttle, meet my team, I mean your Special Branch protection team.” Kaya gestured toward the deer enchant. “This is Agent Val Manning, our self-defense and hand-to-hand combat specialist.”

  Will wondered how the three-and-a-half-foot tall woman could be a combat specialist.

  “Good to meet ya, Tuttle,” she said gruffly, extending her diminutive hand.

  Will reached to shake it, but the woman yanked her hand away and seized Will’s wrist with two fingers, twisting his arm painfully to one side.

  “Ow, ow, ow!” complained Will.

  Dr. Noctua ducked down and spun his head so he could speak face to face with Will, who was still bent over in Agent Manning’s wrist-grip. “Wilhelm, I forgot to mention. In enchant culture we don’t shake hands because of the variety of, well, differences.” The owl held up his own feathery wing tip and wiggled the feathers like fingers. “It’s considered a sign of aggression.”

  Dr. Noctua turned toward the deer enchant. “Agent Manning, I believe there’s been a misunderstanding. Could Wilhelm please have his hand back?”

  The deer woman complied.

  “Instead of a handshake, we touch the back of the limbs, wings, paws, et cetera. Like this.” Dr. Noctua showed Will how to hold his hand and let the other person tap it like a backhanded high five. “Good. Now try it again with Agent Manning.”

  Will looked at the deer-woman and rubbed his wrist. “Are you sure?”

  “Certainly.” The doctor clicked his beak.

  With caution, Will held out his hand to Manning. “Um, sorry. I’m new to this.”

  The deer-like woman sniffed and flashed a set of tiny buckteeth. “No harm done, Tuttle.” She smacked the back of his hand so hard that Will was sure she’d left a mark.

  Beside Agent Manning, the other two figures emerged from under their masks. Both men were much larger and sweatier than the deer-woman. The taller of them used a monogrammed handkerchief to mop his scaly, knife-like face. He was completely bald with a long, thick neck and small eyes that swiveled in opposite directions like glistening beads on the end of tiny round pyramids. His wide mouth was lined with thin lips. He had a nose like a thorn and a ridge of scales that ran over the top of his scalp like a Mohawk. Smaller ridges stretched from his chin down his throat. His scaly skin was the same color as the hood he’d been wearing, but it slowly changed to match the green bread racks stacked to the ceiling behind him.

  A chameleon, guessed Will.

  “Agent Santiago Flores. Master of camouflage and reconnaissance,” said the chameleon-man with a flowery, Spanish accent. He offered the back of his scaly, three-fingered hand. Will and Flores tapped. At the point of contact, the enchant’s skin remained the same color as Will’s glove. The agent flexed his fingers, morphing the hand’s color to the same mottled blue as the bread bag under it. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The chameleon lifted his thorn-like nose and swiveled both eyes Will’s direction.

  “Um, yeah, nice to meet you too.” Flores’s spinning eye sockets and changing color were a bit unnerving.

  “Agent Tony Rizzuto. You can call me Rizz.”

  Will backed away. It was the ram who had mugged him in the park. The same brown eyes with slightly horizontal pupils. The same heavy jaw and goatish muzzle. Two huge horns curved from his head. They were carved with ornate etchings of snakes, eagles, tigers, and other animals. Half of the ram-man’s right horn was missing and the broken portion was covered by a sliver cap with a skull and crossbones. He had long, coarse hair that was pulled into a ponytail and partially obscured his human ears.

  The agent gave Will a knowing half grin and extended his hoofed hand. “Sorry about the park. No hard feelings.”

  Will eyed him with suspicion.

  “Aw, don’t leave me hanging, kid.” Rizz held his hand closer.

  Will reached out to tap hands. Instead, Rizz made a fist and bumped knuckles.

  “Cultural expert and communications guy, at your service.”

  Kaya stood. “These agents have been handpicked. They are the best of the best.”

  The three agents removed their over-suits and adjusted their clothes.

  Will ran his eyes over the team. There were no mirrored sunglasses or dark suits like the Secret Service.

  Kaya almost looked the part. She wore a dusty gray suit with high boots, a simple cotton blouse and a jacket. But the outfit was perfectly tailored, and Kaya’s stunning beauty made her look too much like a fashion model to ever pass for a government agent.

  Val Manning, the little deer-like agent, wore tan camouflage head to toe. Her military shirt and pants pockets were packed with knives and daggers. A blowgun with darts hung from her belt and a machete was tucked in her combat boot.

  Agent Flores brushed lint from his black Italian suit and smoothed his pink, silk shirt. A gold chain hung beneath his open collar. From his breast pocket he produced a small mirror and admired himself, pursing his lips.

  Rizz flipped up the collar of the black bomber jacket and propped his scuffed biker boots up on a stack of fruitcakes. His ripped jeans had tufts of ram hair poking out the holes and a dark t-shirt with the words Kiss a Herbivore stretched across his barrel chest. Rings covered his hoof-like thumbs. He caught Will’s eye and cracked his knuckles.

  “Not what you expected from the ‘best of the best’?”

  Will blushed.

  “Don’t worry, kid, we may not look like the suits in the White House, but I doubt your president’s Neps could see Flores coming when he turns all camo. Show him, Flores, go plaid or something.”

  “I don’t do tricks. Carnero impetuoso,” Flores mumbled in Spanish.

  The ram-man winked conspiratorially, coaxing a smile from Will.

  With a huff, the chameleon enchant gathered the discarded suits. He stuffed them into a grungy muffin box and pressed a piece of dried, pink chewing gum on the wall. The box dropped through the floor and a duplicate took its place. Will stared at the camouflaged drop box.

  “Enchants are very good at keeping things hidden,” Dr. Noctua offered. “It is part of the survival instincts we inherited from our animal sides. We prefer to hide our strengths, rather than draw attention to them.” He motioned to the Special Branch agents. “Never believe what you see, because with enchants, what you see is probably wrong.”

  As if to demonstrate the point, Agent Flores held up his hand that had turned the same pink color as the chewing gum button, and motioned toward his watch. “We will arrive in twenty minutes. I suggest we prepare the boy.”

  “I’m on it,” said Manning, who tossed Will a bag with his own clothes, shoes, and parka, motioning for him to dress.

  Will stared at the bundle in his lap. He’d always had an issue undressing in front of an audience.

  “Don’t just sit there, Tuttle. Put them on.” Manning was standing with her hands on her hips, waiting.

  “I…it’s…just,” mumbled Will.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake. The kid needs some privacy.” Rizz yanked a sheet off the gurney and stretched it between two stacks of French bread, creating a makeshift changing room. “There ya go, kid.”

  “Thanks.” Relieved, Will dressed, trying to avoid boxes of muffins sliding past his feet.

  When Will emerged from the partition, Dr. Noctua was bandaging Kaya’s ribs. Her shirt was pulled up, exposing the small of her back enough to see that Kaya’s stripes continued all the way down. Will blushed and focused on his shoes.

  “There you are, Agent Das. Good as new,” said Dr. Noctua. “I suggest taking it easy for a week or two.”

  Rizz snorted. “Yeah, like that’ll happen.”

  Kaya snapped around and shot him a glare that would wither most men, but Rizz just smirked.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Here.” Rizz reached under a row of birthday cakes and pulled out Will’s stolen backpack. “The doc replaced the pills and needles with anti-Cloak meds. And we added some enchant
necessities. Everything else is still there. See, I told you I was just borrowing it.”

  Will opened the pack and picked up a silver aerosol can labeled ‘Breath Spray for Chronic Halitosis.’

  “That is your anti-Cloak inhaler,” said Dr. Noctua. He reached into the backpack. “These are anti-Cloak tablets. Take one every morning and night.” He shook a bottle marked “Anti-gas/Anti-odor” pills. There was also a large can of industrial strength deodorant and a bottle of odor fighter shampoo.

  “Anti-odor? Halitosis?”

  “It’s all part of the plan, Tuttle.” Manning popped up and grabbed the deodorant. “On your feet.”

  Will obeyed, balancing himself on the shifting floor. Agent Manning lifted the can, aimed, and fired. He had barely closed his eyes when the mist hit him in the face. The petite agent moved around Will, dowsing him front and back. She even sprayed under his arms and the bottoms of his feet.

  “What was that?” Will asked.

  “Scent.”

  He sniffed the sleeve of his jacket. “I don’t smell anything.”

  Everyone had shifted farther away, trying not to inhale.

  “What?” Will felt self-conscious.

  “You won’t be able to smell it,” said Kaya, wrinkling her nose at the odor. “But we needed to cover up your Nep scent with something stronger.”

  “What scent is it? Skunk or something?”

  “Gerbil,” grunted Rizz, testing the air. “Pretty convincing too. You reek.” He waved his hand.

  “Gerbil? But gerbils don’t stink,” argued Will.

  “Maybe not to you,” Kaya explained, “but gerbil musk is a powerful scent marker to an enchant. We use gerbil musk gas to clear buildings, the same way Neps use teargas.” She sniffed deeper, getting used to the smell.

  “No one will know you are a Nep, and nobody will want to get close enough to check twice,” stated Manning.

  Will sniffed his coat again. It was a little gerbilly, but nothing that would bother him. He shrugged. “Okay.”

  “One more thing.” Agent Flores handed Will a New York driver’s license. The name Wilhelm Tuttle was printed beside a bad photo of Will with his eyes half closed that must have been taken in the hospital. It said he was sixteen, and gave him a downtown address—his first fake ID. Will smiled and slipped it in his pocket.

  “Wait. Turn it over,” instructed the chameleon enchant.

  The back of the license was a three dimensional hologram of the front. ‘Enchant Passport’ was written at the top. The picture and words moved as Will rubbed his finger across the card.

  “Wow. That’s cool.” He tapped the name Wilhelm Tuttle, and a pedigree chart appeared with a fake family history going back to Vladimir Tuttle–Enchant Victim–Gerbil–1722–Russia. He tapped his address and the screen zoomed into a satellite image of a midtown apartment building. When Will looked up from the card, five pairs of eyes were on him.

  “You can see the passport, can you?” asked Dr. Noctua.

  Will nodded.

  “Amazing. That’s the most advanced Cloak-encrypted technology there is. Many enchants need electronic decoders to view their own passports.” Rizz turned to Dr. Noctua. “You’re sure he doesn’t have any enchant in him?”

  “Not a trace.” The owlish doctor puffed like a proud father.

  “This is going to rattle a few cages in the Chamber of Wik,” said Rizz with a soft whistle.

  “It most certainly will.”

  “Wait a minute. I’m going to rattle cages? I thought being an Immune was a good thing. Why do I need the spray and the fake ID?”

  Everyone looked uncomfortable and turned to Dr. Noctua.

  The owlchant leaned on his cane and took a limping step. “Being an Immune is good, Wilhelm. But, it is also the reason that you need to stay hidden, for now.”

  “What? But I thought I was going to fit in.”

  “You will. Eventually.”

  “Eventually?”

  Noctua clicked his beak, searching for the words. “You have to understand that we enchants are by nature nervous, skittish, and paranoid. It is in our animal DNA—what has helped us survive unnoticed for millennia. Our survival instincts and our heightened senses of sight, smell, hearing, or touch allow us to separate ourselves from the world and to recognize each other through Cloak. Neps have limitations to their senses, and Cloak works just beyond those limits. One way or another, every enchant can recognize other enchants with their advanced senses. But as an Immune, you have no animal DNA, so you are indistinguishable from any other Nep. To an enchant you are a phantom, an invisible man, and that breeds fear and mistrust.

  “You can see enchants. But we cannot pick you out of a crowd. We enchants prefer to live our lives undetectable. It makes us feel secure. But many of us become very uneasy when the tables are turned.”

  Dr. Noctua closed his huge eyes and rubbed his temple with a feather. “It has been many years since an Immune lived among us. There are still some enchants who see Immunes as their enemy. We just don’t want you lost in the misguided name of enchant self-preservation.”

  “Wait. Lost? As in killed?” asked Will, his mouth gaping open.

  Noctua nodded. “For centuries, mistreatment of Immunes was a travesty. Fifty years ago, an amendment to the Articles of Wik gave special protections to Immunes and created a Special Branch. Rights were extended to Immunes and they were able to assimilate into enchant culture. Immune preservation was a great success until—” The doctor twisted his feathered fingers. “Let’s just say that some things are unforeseeable. Eleven years ago the last known Immune was killed and Immunes became extinct. It was a tragedy of monumental proportions.

  “Some of us never gave up hope that new Immunes could be born. Nep immunity is usually genetic, but it’s also unpredictable, sometimes appearing spontaneously in Nep newborns. For years, Special Branch has focused on detecting new Immunes with no success, until two days ago. Now they have the most vital mission in the world.” Noctua looked over the top of his glasses. “Protecting you.”

  “Protecting me from what? More wolves? Other enchants?”

  Noctua rubbed his chin with the tip of his feathered hand. “That’s the point, Wilhelm. We do not know what to expect. An Immune has not been among us for years, so we are not sure how enchant society will react to you. And that’s why we must ask you to pretend to be something that you are not. Just for the time being.”

  Will thought about it for a minute. He stared at his gloved hands, turning them over in his lap. A hole had been ripped in one of the fingertips. He plucked a coarse, black wolf hair from under his exposed fingernail, and studied it in the light.

  “He may try again,” said Kaya. “Him or someone else like him.”

  She was right. What choice did he have? He was too far into it to turn back now. Besides, he had always wanted adventure.

  “We need your help to make it work, Will,” said Kaya. “Are you with us?”

  He looked into the expectant faces of the protection team and shrugged. “Why not? It’s better than living in a bubble, right?”

  “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Rizz held his hoof out for a knuckles bump.

  “But wait.” Will had a flash of panic. “I don’t know anything about being an enchant.”

  “I can help with that, kid.” Rizz slid next to Will and began to instruct him on some of the broader points of enchant etiquette.

  Minutes flew by and Rizz’s list of dos and don’ts grew faster than Will could follow.

  “Never bare your teeth to a carnivore unless you’re ready for a fight,” Rizz instructed. “Never talk about enchants unless absolutely sure there are no Neps around. Never groom yourself in public. Nobody wants to see that. And remember it’s rude to consume another enchant in front of his family members.”

  Will tried to hide his shock.

  The truck erupted with Rizz’s snorting laughter. Everyone else chuckled, too. Even sour-faced Flores almost smiled.
>
  “What?” Will was confused.

  “I was just kidding about that last one, kid. But you should have seen the look on your face. Sorry. I just needed to lighten the mood. Oh, that was a good one.”

  Will’s face reflected his relief.

  “Seriously, though, just remember that nothing will be what it appears. The most innocent-looking things might be the biggest danger, or the weakest-looking the strongest. This truck, for example.” The ram banged the wall with a fist. “It’s stronger, safer and better armed than a tank.”

  Will looked around at the wobbly mounds of baked goods and laughed at the joke, but he was the only one.

  “Actually, that time he was serious,” said Kaya.

  “Oh.”

  After a few more minutes, the truck made a sharp turn and began bouncing and shuddering wildly. There was the sound of a plane taking off somewhere nearby.

  “We’re almost there,” announced Flores, holding onto a jittering rack of éclairs.

  Kaya was at Will’s side. “Just remember what Rizz taught you. There will be a lot of enchants here, so please stay close.” Kaya stood with perfect balance in the quaking vehicle as she slipped on a full-length black coat, pulling a large hood over her head.

  The others followed her lead. Agent Flores produced a dark trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat. Manning donned a gray cloak. Will recognized their coats instantly. Manning and Flores had been the ones chasing him across Manhattan.

  “Your parka has a hood doesn’t it, Tuttle?” asked Manning.

  Will nodded.

  “Well, put it on, then,” she barked. “Enchants cover up in public. You’re an enchant now.”

  Will ducked under his hood. This was it. The truck was beginning to slow. His knees were shaking, his palms sweating under his gloves. The truck stopped with a lurch, toppling a rack of rolls.

  Kaya reached toward Will. “Ready?”

  “Ready.” His voice cracked as he took the cat-woman’s hand and the door slid open.

  11