Once Lost Lords (Royal Scales, Book 1)

by Stephan Morse

  “Go ahead, call the puppies, you’re the one with debts.”

  The best way to turn a bluff around was reminding them they could crash and burn too. It helped that he didn’t know my name. I wrapped the bit of hair around itself and put it my other pocket. My free hand went to the set of knuckles, keeping it slipped on in case things got crazy.

  “My neighbor…”

  “Doesn’t owe ten grand.” I cut him off.

  “Is one of those things you called a puppy.”

  A low growl crept through the thin walls, broken up by snorts and snores. Hopefully, the neighbor was asleep and assumed my loudmouth was part of a dream. Nothing bothered the wolves like talking trash. Rarely did they have a sense of humor with non pack. Elves ignored insults and tripped a descendant for the grandparent's slight. Vampires bought out entire businesses to ruin someone’s career. Wolves settled for kicking the offending ass all over town.

  Prime time television had a show based on two real life wolf lawyers. Producers put reinforced cages around the jurors and judge. The show’s gimmick was getting both wolves wound up and letting them fly. They threw around chairs, tables, and started swinging at each other while reciting legal jargon.

  “Tomorrow night,” I grabbed now uneven hair and jerked his head up. “I’ll find you if you run.” He looked confused then made a motion to ask something else.

  I put one giant hand in his face to shush him and walked off. His question would be the same pointless whining everyone spouted. My brain was fuzzy beyond caring. The drunken swerve to my steps was proof enough. I exited through the maze of parked cars, not caring at this point about the rest of the neighbors or what the debtor did behind my back. Tomorrow I would be sober and careful.

  Chapter 2 – An Odd Mix

  Eventually, these painkillers would kick in. Staggering up the stairs this early required barely achievable coordination. The rock had fallen down a few steps, either by drunk me or someone else visiting. Paranoia made me do a quick scan of the basement. I set about reviewing boxes, counting collectibles and looking for disturbances in the dust.

  Non-human invaders should avoid the charm wall. Failing that, the silver and iron strips on my stairs would hurt others. Wolves were often barefoot. Home defense was a careful art that I almost compulsively built as my collection grew. Most spare money went into protection. Each layer of defense pushed the border of Julianne’s property rules. She owned this place, but I made it mine.

  My treasures included many items. There were first edition comics, statues with gems, rare coins, and decent artwork rolled into tubes. A small collection of ornamental swords lined one wall. In one of the boxes from my travels, I acquired a real sword and shield, heavy weighted solid materials. Those items included an unfair amount of jewelry. I could have given Kahina a gift every day for a year and had some leftover, but I didn’t. Everything down there belonged to me alone.

  I went back upstairs and set about my morning workout. A breakfast burrito went into the microwave and the ding of completion signaled my readiness to face the world. Upon opening the door, I discovered a man in a well-dressed suit and black sunglasses. He stood ten feet from the door while outlined by a blazing afternoon sun.

  Minimal clarity and a microwave breakfast wrap made it hard to take anything serious. The ineffective painkillers and post workout pump almost counteracted things. I gave him an idle once over while munching at my food. This visitor had deep red hair, a black suit, tanned skin. The corona illuminating him made it hard to pick out more specific features.

  “Jeff Fields, I believe?” The voice sounded gruff but familiar.

  “How long you been out here?” I asked.

  “Long enough to wonder if you died down there, man.” There was a hint of humor and most of the rough tone vanished, leaving behind a familiar voice.

  I took another of bite of my food.

  “Crummy?” It wasn’t polite to talk with your mouth full, but if it was Crummy, he deserved it.

  The figure stepped out of the sun with a wide smirk. Some things had changed in four years. His head full of hair had been trimmed down so far that it was nearly nonexistent. Freckles that should have been present were buried under a deep tan. The man surfed like crazy during his downtime. I had never gone once in our decades of friendship.

  Crummy put a hand out to shake.

  Lazily, I juggled food from one hand to the other before reaching out in return. Daniel Crumfield didn’t settle for the shake, pulling in instead for a shoulder bump.

  “Welcome back. Heard you were back in town under another stupid name.” His hand gave a wave towards my front door. “I see you didn’t bother to move.”

  “Been hiding.” I said.

  “I heard that too. Someone called in a disturbance and said a large man with a busted nose had accosted an elf over gambling debts.” Daniel’s grin was barely visible against the violent morning light.

  “Someone called huh?” I hadn’t even noticed the blond was an elf. He had a lot of matted hair covering his discerning features.

  “Yeah, man, they sent me down here to bring you in for disturbing the peace.”

  I took a final bite and let out a muffled “Bullshit.” He laughed.

  “Don’t shoot the messenger!” Daniel said.

  “How about a friend?”

  “Don’t shoot them either. Besides, you know I was kidding man.” Both his hands went up in an insincere surrender.

  “That elf would never call,” I said.

  “Those types never do. And you don’t exist on paper, man, remember?” His accent killed me every time. Surfer cadences rang through his speech. No amount of suit could bury the dude lurking below. “Little Julie dropped a line when you got back. I tried to pop in last night but you’d already taken off, so I asked where you were.”

  That made sense, when he talked to Julianne she must have informed him last night’s apartment dweller was elven. Well at least that cleared up which one he was from the picture. This series of events bothered me. First I see my ex, sort of, and managed to survive the night. Now one of my few friends shows up.

  “No files in four years?”

  “Not a peep, man, thankfully. I’ve been keeping tabs on bulletins that might match you over the years. Nothing, nowhere. You’ve been a ghost.” The admission made me feel accomplished. I had intentionally 'disappeared' for the last few years.

  “Anyway, what’re you up to today?” Daniel asked.

  I looked up at the sky then said, “Before sunset? Nothing really”

  “Sunset?” He put a few things together. “Still avoiding Kahina?”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Oh, man, I’d move out of the Western Sector all together, if I had a choice and pissed that woman off.” Daniel was a Sector agent. He didn’t get to leave without a damned good reason.

  “Not moving. All my stuff is here.” I shrugged.

  “Right, that collection you’ve been building since we were kids.” There was a hint of resigned amusement to his words.

  “I’ve got more to sort out still.” During those wandering years, the hoard had only grown in size.

  “I’ll believe it if I see it.”

  “Maybe.” Like hell would I let him downstairs. Friendship didn’t go that far.

  “Listen, man, I’ve got some time and cold cases. I wanted to ask over beers, but that idea’s busted. You able to help?”

  This exchange wasn’t new. Favor for favor. When we were younger, a lot younger, he handed me one of the files that had stumped him. I managed to provide tips that went places. Occasionally he grabbed another set to consult me on. Daniel had gotten promotions and commendations because of our deal.

  “Knew this wasn’t a social call.” I pretended to be grumpy.

  “I know, man, I’d drop by for just drinks, but crime never sleeps. My next few assignments are shaping up to be huge. If I can find a place to start.” Daniel shook his head.

  “Anyway, th
ought maybe you’d help me find some of these people as an in with this assignment.” He didn’t need to explain it. Crummy’s missing files included all sorts; long lost children, runaways, murderers. Often my involvement was limited to a direction and letting him know which ones were dead. There were only a handful of trackers in Western Sector and Daniel worked every resource he could.

  But we were friends.

  “Sure, I’ll try.” I didn’t mention money. I would take cash for finding and collecting debts, or a reward for recovering items. By applying my talents to debt collecting, I got to engage in a favorite past time. Punching the deserving in the face. Being paid for it was a bonus.

  Finding people was another issue. Missing someone you cared for was heartbreaking. It scarred a soul down deep. I knew that pain. My own parents had left me, abandoned me. Their faces lost to time. There was nothing within my entire collection to track my own family with.

  Daniel guided me and my vanishing breakfast to his car. From the back came a stack of files and items in evidence bags. “You know the rules, I can’t actually let you touch any of it.” He said.

  “I know, makes it harder, but I’ll do what I can.” I shrugged. That was fine, I didn’t want fingerprints on government tagged and bagged items.

  An hour passed while cruising through the five cases he presented. Two children, one alive and north somewhere. The other provided no response. The answer, once found, would likely be depressing. One missing person looked familiar. I wound back to the file Daniel had and tapped on the picture.

  “Who’s this?” I flipped the file around for him to look at.

  “Arnold Regious, son of one massively rich family, missing, believed kidnapping.” Daniel grabbed the case file then flipped through the thin stapled pages. “Human, no signs of the other races being involved so I’m not sure how they routed it to Sector.” Sector only got involved if it was interracial.

  “And?” I bounced the photo up and down.

  He was looking at a few different pages across the file and sighed. “And this dude vanished on the road during the day heading between family estates. Driver and a guardian both missing too.” The man said.

  “Let me check something,” I said.

  “You’re kidding, on this case?” He looked excited. “Man, that’s perfect.”

  “Hold on.” I went back into my apartment, carefully making sure to close the door behind me. When I returned to Daniel it was with the picture of two blond boys. “This him?”

  “Let’s see.” Daniel took the picture and compared it to some of the other photos in the file. “Hard to say, but it looks solid, one’s human, other’s elven. Where’d you get this?”

  “An elf I certainly didn’t accost, sir.” I tried to put on my best innocent girl act. Too bad my voice wasn’t built for valley girl tones. At least the poor impression got a snicker.

  “Alright, is he still alive?” He smiled.

  “Couldn’t tell. Elf is, don’t know about the human.” I said. Couldn’t tell was code for likely dead. Daniel had been through this dance more than a few times with me.

  “Mind if I steal your meal ticket?”

  “Please do, if it’s more than a gambling debt, I want no part of it. Nothing personal.” Working with Daniel was fine but the thought of being in his way wasn’t comforting.

  “I hear you. Alright, I’ll take this and go. This will mean a lot if it pans out, thanks.”

  “Anytime,” I said. Daniel probably couldn’t hear me, since he was already settling himself into his car and slamming the door shut. The Sector agent quickly drove off. Next he would be bothering Julianne for information and then back to whatever nest the suits were stationed out of. She didn’t exactly like him nosing in on her clients, but like most bookies, when it was a bad debt there was no harm throwing them under the bus. Especially if it kept someone out of the rest of their business.

  I slowly wandered back to the bar. Julianne’s employees ran about clearing leftovers from the lunch group and prepped for dinner. Friday nights were crowded. Which meant lots of bets being placed, hopefully someone big and dumb looking would be able to score a job as a bouncer tonight.

  “Jannneeee.” I hollered down the hallways behind the counter that lead to a medium sized kitchen and the bookkeeper’s office.

  Wheels ground against the thinly carpeted floor. A man’s head peeked out of the back office. I nearly forgot he worked here. Tall, huge balding forehead, and thin wire framed glasses. His remaining hair was uneven and splattered with shades of gray.

  “Oh.” He whispered.

  His size said nothing about the personality. He was quiet. Most people never knew he was back. The man tallied the bills, figured out taxes and would slip every fourth twenty under the counter for the less than legal funds. Half his magic was shuffling money around without arousing suspicion. There was some muttering.

  “Hold on, Jeff, I’ll be out in a moment. We gotta fix the records for our little loose end that your friend took away from me.” Good, she was okay with the situation. An angry Julianne skipped straight to screams.

  It was hard to keep the world straight when I changed my name so many times. Not even sure why I did it.

  “You need a big dumb man to protect you tonight?” My words would carry well enough.

  Julianne came out of the accounting room and walked down the hall. She looked mildly annoyed but willing to play my silly game.

  “I could put up with for you tonight, but considering you smart enough to be dumb is a stretch.”

  “Bitch.” Which she was. I smiled a bit, careful to keep my teeth covered.

  “So you’ve told me, pay’s gonna be low for a night, though, still okay?” Julianne never stopped moving. Her hands straightened everything in range while we talked.

  “Fine. Meals this week and the rest towards rent.” I could use something that didn’t come from a microwave.

  “Deal.” She said.

  Bartering kept us both from worrying about the books. Hamburgers were easier to write off than cash. Working would keep me busy. Kahina might leave me be until the end of my shift. If she showed up at all.

  I headed back to my apartment and put on my less raggedy belongings. Clean clothes that were comfortable enough to swing my arms in. Some bouncers operated by intimidation factor, others looked deadly. Sometimes they were sneaky little martial arts majors. Muscles and size made me the former. The right clothes would help me look like a wolf or a blood partner. Which I almost had been.

  Kahina hadn’t spoken to me in almost four years and she still fixated. Vampire studies showed that they kept the same type of associates their entire lives. Dead comrades were often replaced with someone of a similar build and personality. Obviously Kahina hadn’t replaced me.

  Clothing ended up being a tight shirt showing clear muscles on the chest and arms. Shopping for taller shirts was hard. Jackets were harder. I donned one of my fluffier coats and a loose pair of pants. The shirt covered a cross. As long as it was unexposed things should remain calm. The hint of its form would keep any visiting vampires mindful.

  Visible threats were all part of a clever facade ensuring a semi-peaceful existence. If that failed then Western Sector’s agents would resolve those still standing. Daniel Crumfield was one of many that forced a fragile peace. Decanters were rare. No one wanted wars. Hell, we got along as much as we could these last thousand years. Nearly every city had a substantial percentage of non-humans.

  Julianne’s bar served all types. Most did. Wolves, Elves, Vampires, they all migrated across the ocean along with humans. Imagine, three ships headed for the Western Sector. The bottom cargo hold would have been dedicated to coffins at night. Wolves would have prowled up top during the day. Elves took their own ship since they’ve always been snobs. No one wanted to ride with their trees anyway. Things were different in the other Sectors. Millenniums of history and superstition drove the races to segregate.

  At the bar, things were already
in full swing.

  “Jeff, you’re on IDs. Get back out there.” Julianne’s voice kicked me out before I even made it ten feet. Me, my jacket, and my big dumb persona went to the main door and carded. It was monotonous work but had its moments.

  A few gaggles of teenagers would try to sneak in. Turning them away was fun but screening got tough. Youngsters often thought a pair of prosthetic ear extensions would make a fake ID look better. Envy meant those with money spent tons staying in good condition. Heaven forbid anyone feel inadequate next to an elf twice their age. By sundown, I only found one actual fake ID card, which I took pleasure in tearing up. Sure, there were laws in place to report them, but that required me to exist on paper. Besides, dropping the ID confetti down a shirt was fun.

  Stand at the door long enough and all sorts were bound to show. Occasionally younger crowds had an elven member or two. The elf was typically decades older than the people they were traveling with. Most of the time they were bubbly and non aggressive.

  Other crowds had someone who seemed too quick, a bit jumpy. Frat groups always had one dumb human mixed in who would take the dive as soon as he had money and the right friends. People grew up watching for signs. The likelihood of a childhood friend going furry in high school was often tied to how bad the kid got picked on. Shifting never solved anything. Bottom rung in human relations, bottom rung in the pack. Changing races wasn’t a cure for a submissive personality.

  A lot revolved around their family. Most wolves were male since females rarely scored high marks after the transition. Being permanently unable to bear children turned most women away. With all the regulations in place, women were forced to face facts before signing on the dotted line.

  Tonight a full blown wolf tried walking into the bar on all fours. Between the lack of a collar and the way he eyed everyone’s faces instead of their bodies it was clear, there was a human mind in there.