Silver Light

by J. R. Rain

  I move on to the next window, around the corner at the back. Bingo. There’s Bobby, lying under a white sheet in what had to be his grandparents’ master bedroom. Aside from a bong sitting on a doily-covered table, he hasn’t even changed the décor, and from the smell in here, I bet the last time his bedding got washed, his grandmother did it.

  A girl who might be eighteen is out cold, face down above the sheet to his left. He’s probably not wearing anything either, as evidenced by how he’s holding the sheets up.

  After slipping a finger under the window, I lift it enough to climb in and creep up to the bed. Once I get a closer look at the woman’s face, I change my opinion of her age to mid-twenties… or eighteen plus some bad drugs. Sad, but not my problem.

  “Bobby,” I whisper.

  When he doesn’t stir, I rest my hand on his chest and give him a light prod.

  His face scrunches up as he emits a half-hearted moan. The guy’s a few years shy of thirty, but he holds his arm over his eyes and whines like a senior annoyed at his mother waking him up for school. When I poke him again, he squints up at me.

  Charm time. I lean down, dialing up my supernatural radiance while smiling. “Hi there.”

  His irritation bursts like a bubble, collapsing to a dumb grin.

  “It would make me happy if you told me what that big thing is you’re planning,” I whisper.

  “Aww, it’s big, yo,” he says in a dizzy, stupefied tone. “Those Chinese fuckers won’t know what happened.”

  He begins to ramble―not fully awake plus my mental whammy―but I get a clear impression from what’s going on in his head. It’s full of a Chinese street gang that’s cooked up a nice chunk of meth. He’s figured out where they’re storing it, and he, Wayne, and Mike plan to sneak in at night, steal it, and flee to Canada where he expects to sell it to a ‘major player.’

  I stroke my hand over his head, petting him like a cat. “That’s a dangerous plan. Those other men will be angry with you.”

  He nods. “Yeah, but they won’t know who we are ‘cause we won’t be here.”

  There’s always the thought of giving him a charm enough to change his mind about doing it, but they’re impermanent, plus his buddies talking about it will break it down faster. Add to that, this guy would only do something else. I glance at the girl next to him. Yeah, he needs to get off the street. Maybe he’ll turn himself around in prison.

  Yes, and make friends with Troy in the process. Licinia laughs.

  I can’t help but grin.

  “When?” I whisper, giving him another poke of allure.

  “Two days.” He caresses my cheek, giving me the eye like his girlfriend isn’t lying naked right next to us. “It’s so easy. The place they’re in used to be part of a hospital, and there’s like an underground tunnel the doctors used to move bodies and shit to the morgue, yo. We go in and out and the Chinese dudes never know.”

  Pictures and conversations come and go in his thoughts. Bobby really does believe his plan can work. I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad idea for a ton of meth to get taken off the street either. “Are you sure you want to do this, Bobby? Wouldn’t your grandparents be happier if you got a decent job?”

  His excited expression shows signs of strain, forced entrancement crashes into sorrow. Only a little though. He resents them for being disappointed in him, and he’s close to losing the house since he can barely afford the taxes. Great, no sense of self-worth, depression, and general not giving a shit… and he’s going to drag his friend Eric down with him. Some friend.

  “You look so tired, Bobby. You should go back to sleep,” I whisper in a soothing tone while patting him on the head. “You’re dreaming me. I’m not really here.”

  Once he closes his eyes, I remove the past few minutes of his memory and climb out the window. Two days from now, he expects to steal an industrial quantity of meth from some Chinese gangbangers, and call Eric in the middle of the night to demand a boat ride to Canada. The chances of this going spectacularly wrong are pretty high, so perhaps a little help is in order to keep guns out of the equation.

  “Serrano,” says Paolo, when I call.

  “I need another favor, but it’s more like I’m handing you a gift.”

  He chuckles. “What’s up?”

  “Thirty-something pounds of meth.”

  The loud crash that comes back over the phone sounds an awful lot like a guy falling out of an office chair for leaning back too far. Banging and scraping noises flood my ear for a few seconds before he gasps, “What?”

  “I’m working a cheating spouse case, but the guy wasn’t cheating. Some of his old high-school buddies didn’t make the same kinds of positive life choices my client’s husband did…” I give him a rundown of the plot. “What I’d like for you to do is nab these guys when they’re on the road to the docks, expecting to meet my client’s husband.”

  “How involved is your guy?” asks Paolo.

  “He’s being pressured into it. Doesn’t want to help them. He’s got no idea what these guys are planning, only that they wanted him to give them a ride to Canada over the Sound. You won’t be able to use him in court, since he’d prefer it if his friends remain unaware that he’s helping us.”

  More clamor comes over the phone from Serrano righting his chair and falling into it again. “All right. What’s the make/model of the vehicle we should be looking for?”

  “Not sure. Bobby’s got a truck, but I don’t think it’s moved in years. Odds are, they’re going to steal something for the night. I’ll let you know as soon as I do. Can you have some units ready to intercept?”

  “How’d you find out about this, Alex?”

  I chuckle. “More stuff you can’t use in your reports.”

  He sighs. “All right. Keep me informed. Holy shit, you did say twenty pounds?”

  “No… I said thirty.”

  “Jesus Effing…” He blows air past his lips, making a fluttering noise. “Be careful.”

  “You always say that. Talk to you soon.”

  “Right.”

  Two nights later, I’m parked a little ways from Bobby’s house, snacking on some trout I’d brought along in a cooler bag. It’s dark, but I can see enough to watch for his ride showing up. It would be nice if those energy flows illuminated the air as well, but alas. I’m a creature of the sea.

  A few minutes after eleven p.m., a beat-up white van with the word Bugmaster in reflective lime green on the side pulls into the driveway. I’m not sure if they stole it from an exterminator’s shop or a junkyard. Mike hops out and runs to the door to collect Bobby.

  I start Rubi up and pull out of my parking space, letting the jeep drift by while snapping a couple pictures of the van. Wayne, behind the wheel, doesn’t pay me any attention as I go straight on by. No sense tailing them when I plucked the location from Bobby’s head. The Chinese gang has taken over a small, abandoned hospital in Edgewood off Meridian Ave. I did a pass by the place yesterday; it looks like it belongs on one of those ghost hunting shows. Probably dates back to the forties or something. Sure enough, it had a population of about a dozen young men who all seemed to be in bad moods.

  Traffic is understandably light at the hour, and I use the hands-free to give Paolo a call.

  “Hey,” he mutters. “You’re being too kind to me.”

  “Too kind?” I ask. “Narcotics unit is your assignment, right?”

  Paolo laughs. “Yeah. This one is like gift-wrapping my career.”

  “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a patrolman in a sunken car.”

  “I thought that was it for me.” He lets off a wistful sigh. “Never going to really feel like I’ve thanked you enough for that.”

  I smile. “Maybe you’ll manage it in another life. Okay, so our friends are in a white van with a Bugmaster logo. Thing looks like it rolled down a hill, sat in a lake for a month, and got pulled out.”

  “Ouch. Got anything more specific than that?”

  “It’s a small
Mercedes Sprinter, probably stolen.” I swipe a finger across my cell to unlock it and read off the plate number from the photo.

  “Got it,” says Paolo.

  “They’re going to be heading for the Edmonds Marina assuming they make it out of this place,” I say, before relaying the address. “I’ll leave it up to you guys to figure out where to intercept. As soon as I see them leave, I’m going home.”

  “Good idea. Best for you to stay out of the way,” says Paolo. “Let me know when they’re moving. I’m going to send a team to that site too.”

  “‘Kay. Call you soon.”

  I hang up and drive the rest of the way to the crumbling, old hospital.

  My initial idea of faking car trouble and throwing off charm to keep the gangbangers staring at me might prevent Bobby and company getting shot up, but it also inserts me a little too deep into the scene. I don’t need either these punks or the police wondering how much involvement I had with stealing meth.

  So, I take Paolo’s advice and tuck my Rubi out of sight down the street a bit, enough to watch for a white Bugmaster van but not so close as to be seen. Once settled, I shut down the engine and lights, and sink low in the seat. A relatively cheap set of night vision binoculars offers me a reasonable view of the property.

  From what I can tell, the gangbangers have set up shop in the larger of two dilapidated buildings. According to Bobby’s plan, a tunnel runs between them underground. I don’t know what convinced him that the gang doesn’t know about the tunnel, but if the condition of the buildings is any indication, no sane person would risk what runs underground. Though, I suppose sane people don’t plan to raid a large, organized gang’s chemist.

  Twelve minutes later, the Bugmaster van rolls by. It goes past me before shutting off its lights and pulling a left onto the hospital approach road. They park in a small clump of trees, which probably is what keeps them from being noticed by the gang’s sentries. I zoom in on the van with the binocs. Bobby, Wayne, and Mike hop out, dressed head to toe in black. They look like ninjas from a bad comedy movie, only they don’t have visible weapons. In a single file line, they scurry across the property to the smaller building, managing to get there without any of the Chinese guys loitering by the hospital door shouting at them.

  You should leave if gunfire occurs, says Licina.

  Yep. That’s my plan. Either way, Eric’s in the clear. That outcome would’ve happened without my interference at all. For the better part of the next twenty minutes, I observe the two buildings via night vision. Aside from the occasional glow of a vape inhaler or mobile phone screen, the hospital is the perfect picture of a quiet gang-infested ruin.

  Motion to the right draws my attention to the three stooges hoofing it away from the small building. Mike and Wayne (guessing from their height) are carrying a big footlocker-type case by each end while Bobby runs ahead of them. Wow. Son of a bitch, his plan worked… Bobby hauls open the van’s side door, waits for his buddies to hop in, and shuts it behind them. He pulls out a phone while climbing in the passenger door, most likely to call Eric.

  I take a cue, and dial Serrano.

  “Alex,” says Paolo.

  “Hey,” I whisper. “The lucky bastards did it. No hornet’s nest. They’re rolling. Southbound on 161.”

  “Copy that.” Paolo mutters something into another phone or radio.

  Time for me to get my aquatic ass out of here. I start Rubi, but leave the headlights off, and pull a wide left, which happens to cause me to follow the Bugmaster van. “Right turn on 24th Street East.”

  “Don’t follow them,” says Paolo.

  “I’m not! What I’m doing is not driving past a bunch of soon-to-be-highly-upset gang members. I’m clear, by the way. You can raid the lab whenever you want.” The thumping of a distant helicopter reaches my ears. “Oh, wow, no expense huh? Got a chopper in the air?”

  Paolo stifles a laugh. “If they’re carrying as much stuff as you think they’re carrying, yeah. Bird’s got ’em in sight. You can break off pursuit.”

  “I told you, nothing to break off. We happen to be needing to go in the generally same direction right now. And yeah, I think they got it. They seemed quite pleased with themselves when they came running out of the place.”

  Call waiting beeps in my ear.

  “All right. I gotta drop off now and coordinate this thing,” says Paolo. “Stay clear, okay?”

  “Will do. You be safe.”

  “Night. And thanks.” He hangs up.

  I click over to the other call. “Hello?”

  “Umm, Alex?” asks Eric.

  “Yeah.”

  “Bobby just called me. Wants me to go to the Marina. I told him I’m going.”

  I sigh. “You might as well do it, to keep up appearances. I don’t think they’ll be arriving.”

  “Are they okay?” A tinge of worry colors his voice.

  My course finally diverges from the van, as they’re heading west, expecting to catch a boat, while I’m on my way to my nice, warm bed in Medina. “They’re not hurt yet. Hopefully, they’re smarter than they look and it stays that way for them.”

  Eric sighs. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll stop feeling like a piece of shit someday.”

  “We all have to live with our choices, Eric. They made theirs. If you go to the marina, you’re keeping your word to them.”

  “Right. Thanks. Let me get out there then.”

  “Take it easy.”

  I click off the call and stare out at the road, the dotted white line going by in a mesmerizing blur. We all make our choices. Marrying Albert, working in that hellhole laundromat, getting on that boat and not caring where it took me.

  Heh. Never did I imagine where that boat would take me.

  Licinia’s presence gathers strength, as if about to speak.

  Please don’t apologize again. You saved my life, and this is awesome.

  You’re welcome.

  Her smile leaks out onto my face, and I roll the windows down so my hair flies in the wind. Somewhere in the distance, the faint wail of police sirens cries out. My smile broadens to a grin.

  We all make our choices, and I’m at peace with mine.

  I love being a mermaid.

  J.R. Rain is the author of thirty-three mystery, supernatural, and romance novels and five short-story collections.

  He’s sold over one million books online. Moon Dance, his supernatural mystery, has been translated into four languages, with audio and film productions pending.

  The literary heir to Robert Parker, his novels feature challenging characters, complicated relationships, and page-turning modernist prose. The gritty realism in his mystery novels comes courtesy of years working as a private eye.

  A So-Cal native, Rain relocated to an enigmatic and shadowy island outside Seattle.

  Originally from South Amboy NJ, Matthew has been creating science fiction and fantasy worlds for most of his reasoning life. Since 1996, he has developed the “Divergent Fates” world, in which Division Zero, Virtual Immortality, The Awakened Series, and the Daughter of Mars series take place.

  More recently, he has forayed into young-adult and middle grade novels.

  Matthew is an avid gamer, a recovered WoW addict, Gamemaster for two custom systems (Chronicles of Eldrinaath [Fantasy] and Divergent Fates [Sci Fi], and a fan of anime, British humour, and intellectual science fiction that questions the nature of reality, life, and what happens after it.

  He is also fond of cats.

  Now that you have completed this book, we hope you will leave a review so that other readers may benefit from your perspective. Authors like J.R. Rain and Matthew S. Cox live and die by your reviews, after all!

  Please visit http://curiosityquills.com/reader-survey/ to share your reading experience with the author of this book!

  Convergence, by JR Rain & Matt Cox

  (https://curiosityquills.com/kindle/convergence/)

  Solstice Winters has spent most of her life halfway between normal society
and the world of her magical parents. Years of always not quite fitting in make sense after a sabotaged experiment reveals an unexpected truth to Solstice. She’s not even human.

  Now, magical beings are appearing all over the Earth. Solstice races to be the first to capture evidence of mythical beasts. Alas, being a one herself, she winds up in the cross-hairs of not only a three-letter agency, but a sect of mages with dark intentions.

  The Dead Detective, by Rod Kierkegaard, Jr. and J.R. Rain

  (https://curiosityquills.com/kindle/dead-detective/)

  When hard boiled police detective Richelle Dadd wakes up to find herself lying dead inside a chalk outline, her only mission is to find out who killed her—and laid a Gypsy curse on her that keeps her alive, sort of, as a zombie assassin. Now she must stop them before she is forced to kill again and again.

  Nascent Shadow, by Matthew S. Cox

  (https://curiosityquills.com/kindle/nascent-shadow/)

  Ever since escaping the inferno that claimed her childhood home, Brooklyn Amari has felt the conflagration pulling her. Now a firefighter, she rushes again and again into the inferno that almost killed her. During a blaze, a near-death experience explains her survival eleven years ago: she’s probably a demon. She’d always enjoyed having psychic abilities, but wings? Ill-equipped to investigate a fire with a magical source, the arson unit asks her to help, but things soon escalate over her head.

  And oh yeah―she’s supposed to destroy the world.

  The Actuator: Fractured Earth, by James Wymore and Aiden James

  (https://curiosityquills.com/kindle/the-actuator-fractured-earth/)