Black Box Inc. (Black Box Inc. Series Book 1)

by Jake Bible

  “I knew you’d cave,” I said.

  “Dude,” Lassa said, sotto voce. “Playing with fire.”

  “What? Me?” I said and gave Harper an exaggerated wink. She did not acknowledge the wink. “Sorry, Harp. I know this is hard for you.”

  “I do this and that’s the end. No more Fae. You never ask me to deal with faeries again unless it’s part of my normal, everyday job protecting your ass like I get paid for, Chase,” Harper stated with a look in her eye I couldn’t quite place. Pain, but . . .

  “I’m cool with that,” I said. “No more special requests when it comes to the Fae.”

  “Or faeries in general.”

  “That’s kind of a big—”

  “We only ask that you do what you can,” Sharon said, giving me a look that said I was pushing it and needed to shut up. I shut up.

  “Lassa? No bringing it up anymore,” Harper said, turning her attention on him.

  “What? Yeah. Sure, I don’t care,” Lassa said as he sulked about his missed date.

  Harper sighed and produced a knife from somewhere on her person. The blade was polished to a mirror’s finish. Harper produced a second, smaller knife and pricked her thumb, then spread the blood across the first knife’s blade.

  “A blood calling?” I asked. “Okay, I didn’t know you’d have to do that. A blood calling is hard-core mojo, Harp.”

  “None of you were going to ever let it drop, so this is what you get.” She stared at her reflection, rolled her eyes, and said, “Hey, asshole, we need to talk.”

  The knife leapt from her hand and landed on the floor, blood-smeared side up. There was a shimmer, then the blood began to bubble. We watched with rapt attention as a figure emerged from the blood. The form was tiny, then quickly grew full size until we were staring at a very handsome naked man of about five and a half feet.

  He wasn’t exactly lacking in a certain department. That perked Lassa up.

  “Hello,” the man said.

  But we all knew it wasn’t a man. He was a faerie. A greedy, self-serving, deadly-as-shit faerie.

  “Put these on,” Harper said as she stripped off her jeans and threw them to the man.

  “Modesty,” the faerie said. “Quaint.”

  “What was that noise?” the gnome asked as he came out of the kitchen with a tray of steaming mugs. He stopped and his jaw dropped. Then his mouth snapped closed, and he tossed the mugs to the side and came screaming at the faerie with the tray raised over his head. “Faerie!”

  “No,” the faerie said. He held a hand out, palm facing the gnome, and the little guy froze in place. The faerie shivered with disgust. “Gnomes.”

  The faerie slid on the jeans, then fully faced us all. He gave a short bow.

  “Aspen at your service,” the faerie said. “Who do you need me to kill?”

  “Aspen, it’s me,” Harper said.

  “Yes, I see it is you,” the faerie, Aspen, said. “And you are?”

  Harper frowned. She stood there with only her underwear and a T-shirt on and stared at the faerie. The faerie stared back, a bemused look on his face. They stayed that way for a good ten minutes. We all knew enough about faeries not to interrupt the process.

  Finally, the faerie chuckled and flipped Harper off.

  “A well-met stare,” Aspen said. “It is not good to see you, Harper.”

  “Suck it, Aspen,” Harper said. “I have questions.”

  “So no one to kill, then?” Aspen asked.

  “I don’t need Fae help when it comes to killing,” Harper stated.

  “No, I suppose you don’t,” Aspen said. He snapped his fingers, and one of the broken and spilled mugs of chai reassembled and flew into his hands. He took a sip and sighed. “Gnomes are annoying little shits, but they do make delightful tea.”

  “How many questions can you answer?” Harper asked.

  “Oh, that depends,” Aspen said as he took another sip of tea. “How much more blood can you spare?”

  “None,” Harper said. “I’m not playing around. Give me a number.”

  “Two?” Aspen replied.

  “Five,” Harper countered.

  “Three and that’s that, my love,” Aspen said.

  “Three will do,” Harper said.

  “We have more than three questions,” Sharon said. She couldn’t stay out of it.

  Aspen turned his attention on her, and to her credit she didn’t flinch. Being already dead certainly helped, but even Sharon knew there was “eternally undead dead” and “forever and finally dead dead.”

  “Have we met?” Aspen asked.

  “Hey, eyes on me,” Harper nearly shouted. “I’m the one you talk to. Not her. Not any of them.”

  Aspen smiled at Sharon, gave Lassa a cursory look, then focused on me.

  “Oh, Harper, my love, have you made my day,” Aspen said.

  I knew what was going to happen. I could see the violence in the asshole’s eyes. Harper was right. The Fae hated me. Not so much because of anything I’d done, but because of what I represented. Something outside their sphere of influence. The Fae like to think they own a little piece of everything, but they can’t own a piece of the Dim.

  The Fae aren’t the only ones that don’t dig me. I’m not exactly liked by many of the other extradimensional races and cultures. Tolerated? Sure. But liked? Not so much.

  “The defiler of dimensions,” Aspen said. “Just who I was looking for.”

  Ugh. That name. I’m not a fan. Not only because it’s hard to fit on a name tag at mixers, but because it’s more of a description than a name. No one says defiler of dimensions with capital Ds. Lower case all the way.

  Beings, no matter what dimension they are from, spend a lifetime, sometimes longer, perfecting the art of communing with the Dim. There are human monks that try to find that bliss of nothingness. Same thing. The Dim is there, but not there. Across the dimensions, the Dim is sacred space. Or non-space.

  Turns out, I’m the only one that can do what I do. As far as I know. And that ticks off the high mucky-mucks of every single extradimensional religion, spiritual sect, and church group. I’m the defiler of dimensions because my nasty, dirty, human hands play with something that others say no one is supposed to play with.

  Fuck ’em. I’ve never been one for rules. They want to call me that, then bring it. I didn’t ask to be able to manipulate the Dim. As far as I’m concerned, the Dim picked me and me alone, so until the Dim and I have some sort of bad breakup, I’ll keep being me and they can suck it.

  “Looking for me?” I replied to Aspen. “Not sure what that means. Not sure I care.”

  I spread my hands out, and the black began to pour from my palms. No point in making rods. Fighting a faerie of the Fae was a losing battle, anyway. I had maybe one second before I was ripped apart by the faerie’s true form. Their true forms have lots of teeth and claws. The black became squares, the squares became a box, and I thrust the box out as Aspen came at me.

  He was locked inside and screaming before he made it two steps.

  I promptly fell on my ass and started to retch.

  The gnome unfroze and charged to the spot where Aspen had been, the tray slamming into the floor. He stopped and blinked a couple of times, then looked over at me and the Aspen-size box of Dim that hovered in the air.

  “You’ll be wanting more cookies and tea,” the gnome said and left the room.

  7

  EVEN TRAPPED IN the Dim box, Aspen made quite the racket.

  Technically, nothing, not even sound, should escape a box made of Dim. But, faeries are faeries, and breaking rules is what they’re about. Pisses me off any of them have the gonads to get on me for being the defiler of dimensions. Bunch of hypocritical dicks.

  As new
mugs and cookies were served, we all took seats around the coffee table and stared at the box. The gnome went about cleaning up the mess he’d made when he’d tried to attack Aspen. He continually kept an eye on the noisy black box as well.

  “I’m going out on a limb here,” I said, with my mouth stuffed full of snickerdoodle. “I think I pissed off the Fae big-time.”

  “You think?” Lassa chuckled.

  “You did more than piss them off,” Harper said. “Aspen is one of their top killers. He’s the best of the best.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sharon said as she cleared her throat. She wasn’t having tea or coffee or cookies. Not a good idea for a zombie’s digestion. “Did you say he was a killer? As in an assassin?”

  “Yep,” Harper said. “Who did you think I was contacting?”

  “Well, certainly not an assassin for the Fae,” Sharon said. The contempt in her voice made both Lassa and me cringe. “All we needed was information. Someone less deadly would have done fine.”

  “Less deadly would have meant less informative,” Harper said. “You wanted info, right? He’s the guy.”

  “He said he was looking for me,” I said. “To kill me?”

  “I don’t know,” Harper said. “Could be.”

  Again with that look I didn’t quite recognize.

  “May we revisit the fact that our head of security invited a Fae assassin here when we clearly did not need another complication?” Sharon said. She was getting a little worked up. “Perhaps this should have been discussed beforehand. A company meeting would have been appropriate.”

  “Uh, Sharon, maybe ease off,” Lassa said. “We asked her to call him.”

  “Did you know she was calling a faerie assassin?” Sharon replied.

  “Yeah,” Lassa said. “She only knows faerie assassins. That’s the crowd she ran with when she lived in the faerie dimension.”

  “Well, I knew she had extensive training in the deadly arts, but I didn’t think she solely socialized with killers,” Sharon said. “If that was the case, then I wouldn’t have suggested she try to contact anyone on that side.”

  “All faeries are killers, Sharon, so deal,” Harper said. “Cold-blooded killers. Every last one. Some have more formal training. Aspen also happens to have a right-hand place in the Fae hierarchy. If we are going to get any answers as to why the Fae are coming after Chase, then we have to ask one of the top Fae directly. Aspen was the only one I figured would pick up a call from me. And I wasn’t even sure he’d pick up.”

  “He thought it was a booty call,” Lassa explained to Sharon.

  “As if,” Harper said.

  “Oh, that’s exactly what he thought,” Lassa said. “No faerie could pass up a sexy time chance with the stolen child turned deadly prodigy turned exile.”

  “I wasn’t a prodigy. You can’t be a prodigy in a dimension that isn’t yours to begin with,” Harper said. “And no human is a prodigy among the Fae.”

  “You know exactly what I mean,” Lassa responded.

  “Hey, guys. Focus,” I said as I washed down my dozenth cookie with the last of my peppermint tea. The tea helped with the IBS-like torture going on down there, but only a little. “Are we asking him any questions or not?” They turned and stared at me. “What? In for a penny, in for a pound, right?”

  “He has a point,” Lassa said. “And now that I’ve seen him move, I’m pretty sure I can take him if he gets snippy. He’s a little guy. Well, not totally little.”

  “Oh, dear me,” Sharon said.

  “Pretty sure isn’t good enough, Lassa,” Harper said. “Aspen eats pretty sure for breakfast.”

  “Eh hem,” the gnome said from the kitchen door. “May I make a suggestion? I am a gnome, after all. And with gnomes being the sworn enemies of faeries, especially the Fae, I might have a solution.”

  “You do?” I said. “Lay it on us, pal.”

  “Glitter,” the gnome said. “A perfectly formed circle of glitter will contain him.”

  “That’s not true,” Harper said. “None of the circle rituals work. Not ash, not salt, not any of them. That’s a myth spread by the faeries so idiots waste time trying to protect themselves right before they get their guts ripped from their bellies.”

  “Is that so?” the gnome said, his short arms folded across his little barrel chest. “Then excuse me for helping. You folks go along with your day. I’ll be in the kitchen plating the Chinese food that was delivered.”

  “About goddamn time,” I said. I waved off the ugly look the gnome gave me. “I didn’t mean that at you personally. What’s your name?”

  “Flip,” the gnome said.

  “Okay, Flip, why are you so sure the glitter circle will work?” I asked. He began to speak, but I held up a hand. “Sorry. Out of line here, I know, but can you bring in the food first, then answer?”

  Flip fetched the food. I was gracious and swore I’d owe him forever.

  “Grab a plate, Flip,” I said to him once all the platters were set on the coffee table. “Take a load off. Then give us the glitter scoop.”

  He loaded a plate with some fried rice and a healthy portion of the Vegetable Delight. I’d never met a gnome who wasn’t vegetarian. I made room for Flip on the couch between me and Sharon, while Lassa and Harper kicked back in two of the overstuffed chairs that faced us.

  After he’d taken a bite and chewed slowly, Flip explained. “Gnomes hate faeries so much that our hatred corrupts the glitter. Faeries hate us right back with the same intensity. It creates a mutual hatred bond that’s as strong as any magic. If any of you tried to trap him in a glitter circle, it wouldn’t work, but if I, or any gnome, does, well, then you have a very effective prison.”

  “Nice tidbit there, pal,” I said. “So you make a glitter circle of hate, I let Aspen out of the Dim box, and he’ll be trapped long enough for us to ask our questions. Good plan.”

  “Not a good plan,” Harper said. “If he’s trapped in that circle, then I can’t banish him back to the faerie dimension if he tries something. In order to do that we have to break the circle, which will set him free.”

  “Good point. Breaking the circle is bad,” I said. “But I thought of something even worse.”

  “And that would be?” Sharon asked. She looked exhausted. Too much chaos for her. “What’s worse?”

  “I’ll have to open the box to let Aspen out. Which means I have to be inside the glitter circle. Being inside the glitter circle is way worse than breaking the glitter circle.”

  “Good call,” Lassa agreed. “Inside the glitter circle of hate is bad.”

  “A distraction is needed,” Flip said. “I have just the thing.”

  Flip set his plate down and hopped off the couch. He hurried into the kitchen and was back in seconds, a bag in his hand.

  “Now you’re playing with fire,” Harper said. “You want to dangle a full bag of sugar before one of the Fae? You do not value your life.”

  “I value my life very much, thank you,” Flip said. “I also value Mr. Lawter’s life. This will distract the faerie long enough for Mr. Lawter to retreat from the circle.”

  “Ah, come on, Flip, we’re eating Chinese food together,” I said. “Call me Chase.”

  “I would except I am on duty, Mr. Lawter,” Flip said. “The firm would not appreciate me taking so informal a tone with a client.”

  “Totally get that,” Lassa said. “I’m Mr. Formal when I’m in the office too.”

  Harper threw a fortune cookie at Lassa’s head.

  I ignored them and clapped my hands together. “So, are we doing this or what?”

  “Can we have an official vote at least?” Sharon asked.

  “Of course,” I said. “All in favor of the glitter circle of hate and sugar distraction strategy?”


  I raised my hand.

  Lassa raised his hand, followed reluctantly by Harper. Sharon shook her head and kept her hands in her lap.

  “Fair enough,” I said. “Dissent is good for a healthy working relationship. But the motion is carried by majority vote. Glitter circle powered by gnome hatred it is, then.”