by M. P. Taylor
What surprised me was her arm.
It had been in a sling the last time I'd seen her, some weeks after the disaster that was my Rite of Ascension. I hadn't given it much thought at the time. People, even a badass like Natasha, got hurt. Yet it had been quite some time. Her wound should have been fixed by now. Even if it was healing wrong, fleshcrafting would have done what mortal medicine could not.
Her eyes read me like a book.
After she sat down, she motioned to her arm, “Old wound. Won't heal.”
“Cursed?”
She paused, trying to find a subtle answer before shrugging, “Verdun.”
“Verdun,” that name registered somewhere in the back of my mind, “The battle?”
“Mhm. The first world war created a massive upheaval in our world as well. We realized mortals were far more powerful than we gave them credit. Verdun, Pasendale, Somme, each of them made us afraid of what was coming and it did come. Thousands of creatures from the darkness. They had opportunities like never before. A massacred village in a war could just as easily been done by soldiers as a pack of werewolves... and never had there been such a war”
“There were many opportunities but Verdun was the worst of it. A coven of necromancers tried to make their own army from the dead there. It was perfect for them. Too much confusion from the constant artillery for anyone to have any sense of what was going on. It was just noise and death all rolled up into a singular package of despair.”
A grin came to her face. There was bitterness to it, but one could tell she was proud of her service from the glean in her eye.
“Not sure if it was the chemical smoke or a spell, but something got in my wounds. We killed the bastards and I lost my arm. Given the state of things, it was a very, very small price. Fleshcrafting just rots the new skin in a few hours. A specialist has been able to do something about my face. It only took a good fifty years but progress is progress.”
“Not that I mind but why are you telling me this?”
“Because that is what people in a community do. They talk, share questions and concerns so that they might come to a beneficial relationship,” she said without any inflection of meaning. No charm, no hostility – just the words themselves.
I scoffed a bit, “I'm flattered but you have to buy me wine first.”
Natasha rolled her eyes, “No child, not that kind. You are one of my charges. You were curious about something. I gave you an answer. That is the nature of our relationship.”
“Ah, so now its my turn,” Natasha nodded her head, “The boy is possessed by a-”
“That's not what I want to know,” the Third Blade cut me off, “You were the last person to see Gerald.”
“Oh. Um, Harold may have mentioned that he was missing, but I'm not sure I can't help you much on that front,” her eyes narrowed every so slightly, not the answer she wanted, “Don't give me that look. I don't know where he is.”
Natasha's features lightened a bit, putting on a good cop face, “You have to understand. For months now, no one from our community has spoken to you. Not me, not him, no one. Then you call him up one night, Harold told me, and he helped you out. Worse yet, you were wounded and today you kill a blood knight. Tell me everything, I don't want to be you enemy.”
Laughter escaped my lips, “No, you just wanted my head to roll.”
Natasha froze, I doubted she was used to people talking back to her, “That was ugly business. I was caught up in the moment. I made a mistake.”
It was my my turn to be surprised, “A mistake? Ordering a well done steak is a mistake.. you wanted to cut my head off.”
“I think,” Natasha whispered, “We can both agree the circumstances to those events were unusual to say the least. I've been meaning to talk to you about it, to try and welcome you back, but things have been rough the last couple years. Too many monsters, too few justicars.”
“Keep the welcome basket, I do fine on my own,” Natasha looked as though she were about to say something more but held back, “Let's leave the past in the past. Right now, believe it or not, I'm wanting to figure out what the hell is going on in Seattle.”
“Agreed,” the Third Blade pulled a manila envelop from the folders of her robe and placed it on the table, “These are all of Gerald's previous cases. I doubt that they are relevant to the situation but if you'd like to take a look, please do.”
The folder was a wealth of information. Gerald had been busy hunting down monsters of all sorts. He tended to work with a team, names I didn't recognize outside of Harold, the fleshcrater. He wasn't even a justicar, just someone who was willing to help out from time to time, a civilian who leant his aid. The group had managed to down beast that I wouldn't have dared approach alone. Basilisk, Hags, an Ogre or two.
Another important thing came up in the report, “Gerald was clean. No open cases. All kills.”
“Indeed. He's only been working for two years and in that time he's managed to double our regional reserves. Each kill was confirmed by a review team as well. Gerald has no direct, living enemies. No one who would be willing to kidnap him in the middle of the night.”
I rubbed my head, knowing where this was going, “Look, I didn't-”
She raised a hand, cutting me off.
“I know you didn't. He was your only friend and he spoke of you with fondness. Your relationship might be a bit rocky but I doubt anything besides mind control would make you turn against him.”
“Mind control?” I offered my open palm, “Run a test if you want. I'm all me.”
“I did, on the other side of the glass. Had to make sure you weren't...well that you weren't possessed,” she finally managed to spit out the words.
“Last I checked, my demon was gone.”
“Demons have a habit of targeting the same host. They get comfy in the mind and don't want to leave,” she waved her hand, “Like I said. I checked. Means that something else must have nabbed him and the only other issue I can think of was you calling him there in the first place. Just tell me everything.”
I gave in, “Fine. Community and all that...”
Everything came pouring out. Blood knights, stabbings and all the fun that came along with hunting Ethan down. I let out the part about Nomia. She didn't need to be caught up in all of this, but I did tell her about those military types who cornered me out in the forest. Natasha didn't react to any of it. She sat with her passive, professional stare that made me feel guilty even though I'd done nothing. Well, nothing recently that I felt particularly guilty about.
“So let me get this straight...You get nearly killed by blood knights while investigate some monster killing mortals. Call Gerald. He calls Harold. Harold patches you up and you send them on their way. After that you run into some P.M.C. outfit who admit to being involved with the monster, you told them off, and hunted down the monster on your own.”
“Ethan is his name,” I corrected, “Or monsterboy if your prefer.”
Natasha eyes glance at me, no track of humor there. Apparently, I sucked at nicknames.
“Right. So you tracked it down after it nabbed the mortal's ex. You think to use as leverage?”
“Yeah. Ethan made it sound like someone was trying to control the spirit. Make it kill specific people,” I explained, “The mortal wasn't bound, the eater could leverage that part of the soul to disobey the summoner – assuming the mortal went along with it.
“That's bad,” she said, “You think the blood knight was the one?”
“Seemed like a middleman. The Eater said that that a 'mageling' had broken their contract,” Natasha grimaced. Mageling was a common term for wizard. If one of our own had been summoning dark spirits...well, there would be one hell of a pissed off Natasha going around taking heads.
“Binding something like a Eater is grounds for immediate execution,” Natasha crossed her good arm across her chest and leaned back a bit.
“But what really worries me is the possibility of there being more of those monste
rs. If they did it once, they might be able to do it again. For all we know there's a bound army lurking somewhere in the city. If more of those things got out... it would be a massacre.”
She was right. One eater had managed to take out a good handful of people, some cops, and it would have killed me if I didn't have time to prepare. If there was an army of those things being summoned in some dark corner of the city, things could roll out of control fast.
That was the worse case scenario, a madman wanting to unleash monsters against an unaware city. I held out hope that our bad guy wasn't quite so crazy, but incidents like that had happened before. Bitter or insane types with too much knowledge and a will to destroy everything. It was almost enough to make me hope he was just some greedy corporate type who was cleaning up a mess. The alternative, a truly evil summoner, was simply horrifying.
Natasha would side with caution. She saw the potential worse case scenario and was already working out ways to ensure things would be under control. I could see the calculations in her eyes. Justicars would be prowling up every lead they could find. Favors would be called in, and there was certainly a good chance of reinforcements being summoned to deal with this mess. Rogue wizards were serious business.
“There's also the matter of his ally, the blood knight,” I reminded her, “Do you think his master is involved?”
“Blood knight, so one of the dragons, do you know which one?” she asked.
“Eristehen. The vamp was working with another the first time I saw him. Irena,” at the name, Natasha shifted uncomfortablly.
“Eristehen is the devil we know, a dragon who takes offense at wizards not living to serve his every need. He undermines us in an annoying matter, not enough to go to war with his people, just a persistent inconvience,” she shook her head, “This seems a bit ambitious to be one of his schemes. Too sloppy as well. Eristehen has been plotting from before humans knew what fire was, if he wanted to quarrel with us it'd hit a hell of a lot harder.”
“What about the other vampire?”
“Irena,” Natasha said the words with cold reverences, the same way a holy man might speak of the devil, “She's...no, it wouldn't be here. Irena is Eristehen's warlord, she wouldn't betray the dragon, and if she wanted a fight, she'd just charge right in."
“So Erik was what? A double agent then? Working for the wizard?” I suggested.
“Could be,” Natasha pushed out her chair, “I'm going to put pressure on Eristehen's people and look into the one you killed. See if we can get information on who he might be working with from our side. Its also a courtesy to tell Eristehen that one of his people died. Won't give a name. You don't need to deal a vampire family wanting revenge.”
“No I do not,” I agreed.
Natasha looked as though she already had a dozen different plans in place. She's only told me one but I had no doubt she would get Gerald back in time. That wouldn't stop me from putting my own efforts forward but it was nice to know she wasn't a total bitch. On the whole, my interrogation had been a surprisingly pleasant affair. I had Gerald to thank for that. I knew he had to have put good words in on my behalf – couldn't think of any other reason people like Natasha would be willing to believe me otherwise.
I tried not to sound too disappointed with myself when I finally spoke, “Sorry if I was a little snappy earlier. I thought you'd have it in for me.”
Natasha considered my words carefully as she collected Gerald's folder, “You have every right to be mad at me. Justicar's are suppose to be above momentary, emotional outburst. We are invested with power and have a duty to use it wisely. The failing at your rite was mine, not yours. I could have checked your circle or yourself. More importantly, I should have keep my emotions in check and realized you were a victim, not a criminal.”
Hearing those words was hard, accepting them, harder.
When I was a child, under Theron's mentorship, I'd been taught the justicars were the closest thing thing to angels we had. I'd idolized them and even wanted to join them when I was younger. Then I saw all that righteous fury turned against me. Not just Natasha's desire to execute me but the trials that had followed. For months, I'd been bound under their judgmental rule until I was finally pardoned and allowed to take my place as a rightful elder. It hadn't been pleasant. A cell, no bedding and the occasional torture.
It had been Natasha who personified that subconscious anger at a system that branded me an outcast. I'd expected her hatred, disappointment or scold. Never could I had been prepared for an apology. Not one that she truly meant and, when I looked into her eyes, I could see the genuine regret at what had happened to me. It angered me a great deal. Partially at her having the gull to apologies so simply, as through that would take back her intent to have me killed.
There was also the other part – the back of my mind that told me I didn't deserve to be forgiven, and that she was just lying. It said that no one would be foolish enough to trust me, and that her only mistake was not delivering the blow.
There was nothing to do but nod at her, I had a lot to think about and now wasn't the time “Are we done here?”
Natasha took that in stride, “Of course, this interrogation was nothing more than a formality. As I said, I know you wouldn't harm Gerald and your actions with the blood knight were... a matter of self defense so far as I'm concerned.”
“What are you going to do with Ethan and Jessica?”
“That's a difficult question,” her face became stony, not betraying anything she actually thought , “Technically, neither of them are elders nor are they protected by one. We have no obligation by the laws to hold them.”
“But,” I asserted.
“But, as they may be involved in an ongoing case involving a rogue wizards, it only seems fair to offer them sanctuary at the moment,” she offered a smile that almost hid her scars, “what happens to them after everything comes to a close will be a matter for the director to decide. He's a nice sort, wouldn't be surprised if he offered a hand.”
That did a lot of good for my mind. Leaving those two in the hands of someone I could, relatively, trust meant that I didn't have to worry about them. It freed up my mind to other worries, namely Gerald. Where the hell was he?
“Get some rest,” Natasha went to leave the room, “And it was good to see you. Try to come back some other time, you know, when you don't need help.”
Natasha left without giving me any time to say goodbye. That was probably for the best as I wasn't exactly sure what I would say. Natasha had apologies to me but I hadn't accepted it, not truly. I wasn't purely a victim. I'd been possessed true, but I knew it wasn't that simple. The demon had tortured me until my will broke and I accepted it into my body. I had, ultimately, allowed it into me, be it under duress or not.
Nomia may have numbed the pain associated with those memories, but they were still there. The truth, the guilt that I hadn't been strong enough to resist the demon when it mattered.
People say that they'd rather die than give up their soul or hurt their friends. I couldn't say that without lying. I had given in and it hadn't even taken very long. Less than a few hours under Almushil's brutal touch. Pain and torture were far more powerful than people gave them credit. Good will and determination were not unbreakable.
“This is why you don't come here,” I whispered to myself before leaving the room.
I'd have to fill out some paperwork to get my things back and try to bum a ride back to my place. If all went well, I might be back before midnight. That was assuming I didn't have a run in with some other denizen of the dark or military contractors.
Given the past two days, I wasn't holding my breath.
Chapter Sixteen
My car had a ticket on it by the time I managed to track it down. A small annoyance but one I was prepared to deal with. Funds were plentiful under the elder's rule and I was just glad it hadn't been towed. Paying money was one thing, dealing with a towing company was another.
It only took me ten minutes
from there to get back to my place. The empty streets of the city at midnight tended to make things go faster and no monsters attacked me.
Unless you considered more snowfall a monster. A perfectly reasonable thing to do when driving a car ill suited for winter. It certainly felt like a monster given the slick conditions and darkened streets. I could have made it back in half the time but I sided with caution.
Better to get home late then not at all.
The lobby was absent except for the night man to whom I gave my regards before hastily making my way back to the top of the tower.
My body was weary and my recently healed cut was throbbing something fierce. I no longer believed Harold's mention of nerves not regrowing properly was a joke – they burned. Not in a way that would make me cry or pass out. It was more of a constant ache that one just couldn't ignore. I wish I had some more Troll Rot, but the ingredients were simply out of my reach. Sometimes pain just had to be dealt with.
Sleep, I needed sleep.
As soon as I entered the doorway, I tossed my staff on the ground and unbuckled my new blade. I was done with work for the day. It was time to lie down and forget all about it. I didn't even bother to take my clothes off – just lazily collapsed onto the bed after turning the lights on.
It took me a while to pass out. Mainly on account of my dog being somewhere else for the moment. How I missed that bundle of fur. At least I knew he was safe for the moment, something I couldn't say about Gerald.
My dreams were nothing worth nothing. The typical panicked nightmares that happen after getting wounded and going asleep with a good deal of pain.
It was my waking that made me uncomfortable.
Something had changed in my environment that put me on edge even while I was asleep. The sort of survival instinct developed from when humans were little more than animals. From when the slightest rustling of wind might have pointed to a stalking predator on the plains. That was how I felt as I awoke, hunted. My environment had changed and my instincts were warning me.