Ran off into the quarry, the dumbass. My own personal playground, you might say.
I followed him into the maze of rock and dirt piles, running full tilt in the moonlight. Reaching out with my mind and power, I tugged at a dirt mound ahead of him, bringing it down in a landslide to block his path. When he darted in another direction, I knocked rocks off a heap, sending them bouncing straight for him. One caught him in the hip, another bashed his ankle, but he staggered for only a moment and kept going.
Ray disappeared around a hill of limestone chunks, and it took me a few steps to catch sight of him again. That was when I realized he might get away. The S.O.B. had a motorcycle stowed behind the limestone, about thirty yards back. He leaped onto the seat and started the engine; the front wheel was pointing right at me.
As the bike's headlight flared on, I stopped in my tracks and quickly assessed the options. Lots of rock and dirt around, but I could only move so much of it at a time. Dipshit Ray might just power through any shower of rubble I could whip up.
Time for another tack, I thought. Reach into my bag of tricks for something different. Something guaranteed to lay him out fast.
Dropping to a squat, I planted the palm of my left hand on the ground. Reached out through my fingertips into the layer of earth between me and Ray.
As Ray revved the bike and threw it into gear, I felt the intricate web of tiny fissures and fractures lacing the surface. Sensed the vibrations flowing through them from the bike, rumbling and crackling and splintering, spreading the web further in all directions.
The bike leaped toward me, but I stayed cool. Closing my eyes, I picked out the soft spots between us, the points where the underlying rock had been weakened...each a glowing red pocket of stress in my mind. A button to be pushed.
And then I pushed one. As the roar of the motorcycle approached me, I lifted my hand, made a fist, and brought it down hard on a precise point on a fracture line. Poured my inner force into the blow, giving it more impact than the punch of a single fist.
I felt the power surge out of me like fire, saw it in my mind's eye like silver lightning flickering through the web. The bolt slashed along a jagged path of fractures and fissures, charging like an errant spark through the cracks in a shattered mirror.
And then it hit the stress pocket, and I felt it implode. The soft spot suddenly gave way, and the ground sank.
Right in the path of the motorcycle.
A hole opened up in front of Ray, the ground dropping too fast for him to swerve. The bike's front tire lurched down into the pit and caught there, spinning the rest of the bike over it. Ray, too. He hurtled from his seat and flew through the air, sailing over my head. He came down ten yards behind me on the pile of limestone, cracking his head and bones on sharp corners of solid rock.
Slowly, I opened my eyes and got to my feet. Turned and looked at him. Shook my head.
There he was, unconscious, ready for delivery to the authorities. The monster who'd killed six kids and who'd been about to kill a seventh was out of the game. People could breathe a little easier. And it was all thanks to me.
This was what I call "smooth sailing"...the kind of moment when I am absolutely high on life. When I'm feeling so good about who I am and what I do that I could just dance like a fool. I saved a life, beat the bad guy, made a difference. Hallelujah!
I made a point to drink it in while it lasted, because I knew it wouldn't. I smiled and raised my bright blue eyes to the full moon, because I knew myself too well, and I knew "smooth sailing" would become the opposite extreme far too soon. It would quickly turn into "sinking fast," no matter what I did, because that's just how I am.
But for that moment, I took a deep breath of the humid, dusty air, and I let myself grin. Time to untie and console the victim. Time to hand over Ray Long to the cops. Plenty of good stuff still to come.
Closing my eyes, I danced a little. I swayed from side to side in the moonlight, happy to be alive. Happy to be in the world, to be special, to be me.
And I spun around once, feet turning in the dirt, hands clasped to my chest as if cradling my beating heart.
*****
Chapter 2
One great night's sleep later, and sure enough, the thrill was gone. Just like I'd expected, but not because I wanted it that way. Believe me, I'd rather have smooth sailing all the time, swear to God...but I don't have the choice. It's just how I am.
"Bipolar," they call it. To me, it's just business as usual.
By the time I walked in the front door of the agency, I felt like I wanted to kill myself. Put myself in a coma, at least.
I slammed the door behind me and knocked over the umbrella stand with my shin--and for what? For absolutely no good reason.
I owned the agency, for crying out loud. Cruel World Travel was all mine, free and clear; I was working for no one but myself. Business was good; it was nine in the morning, and there were already customers in the place. Plus which, my partner, Duke, was doing all the work. Truth was, he almost always did all the work, and he did it without complaining.
So what was my damn excuse? Why couldn't I just be happy and satisfied for more than a few hours at a time?
Of course, thinking these thoughts only brought me down more. Which was why I hung up the ringing phone on my desk instead of answering it. Correction, I picked up the receiver and slammed it down like a blacksmith's hammer on a horseshoe.
And that, my friends, is what finally got Duke's attention.
Turning his chair around from the computer screen where he was huddled with two young female customers, Duke chuckled. "Looks like somebody needs her coffee."
"Mind your own business." I dropped down hard into the chair behind my desk, folded my arms on the blotter, and laid my head on them. Shut my eyes like a schoolkid taking heat in the classroom. I just wanted to tune everything out.
Not that Duke would let that stop him. "You, Earth Angel, are the only business I have." I heard him get up from his chair and stroll across the office. He poured coffee in a mug and headed my way. "Now tell me why you woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."
"I just wanna be left alone," I told him.
"If so, then why'd you come in here today?" Duke chuckled and put the mug down on the desk in front of me. "Now tell me, satin doll. What happened last night?"
A sniff or two of that steaming coffee was enough to convince me I should give it a try. Lifting my head, I reached for the mug. "Caught a serial killer."
"Well, congratulations!" Duke sat on the edge of the desk and slapped his knee. "That's fantastic! How could you possibly be in a bad mood after that?"
Duke knew damn well I didn't need a reason for a mood; he knew me better than anyone, even my best friend, Aggie Regal. This was his way of drawing me out, which of course annoyed the hell out of me...but also actually made me feel a tiny bit better. Duke had a way of doing that, with me and everyone else. His beautiful soul shone through; even its strange container couldn't obscure it. Even his body that looked human but wasn't.
"Okay, listen." Duke leaned down and smiled, dark eyes twinkling. His light brown skin crinkled at the corners of his eyes and mouth, and his long oval face glowed with affection. "How about if you drink that coffee and take a little time to work out the kinks? Then you can help me put the finishing touches on Minthe and Nephelae's itinerary."
Suddenly, I sat straighter in my chair. Damned if he didn't know exactly how to get my attention. "Minthe and Nephelae?" My eyes shot to the two young ladies at the computer where Duke had been working. They both smiled and waved...one platinum blonde with light blue highlights, one brunette with deep green highlights, both strikingly beautiful. They looked as if they weren't a day over twenty-one.
Which was all the more amazing if you knew neither one of them was a day under three thousand years old.
"Good morning." I nodded to them both and managed a faint smile. I've always done my best to show respect to their kind; after all, they and othe
rs like them make up over half of my annual sales at Cruel World. They're a specialty of mine, you might say.
Creatures connected to the Earth in extraordinary ways. Nymphs and gnomes and all the host of not-so-mythic life-forms with special abilities. I cater to them, because they're some of my best customers.
Also because I'm one of them myself.
"So what do you say?" Duke raised his eyebrows, and the smooth skin of his high forehead rippled like a sweet roll. "Does that sound like a plan you can live with?"
His soothing voice and good humor got to me like always. I was still in "sinking fast" mode, but my rate of descent leveled off. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" I said it, but I didn't mean it. "You're fired."
"You fire me twice a day," said Duke. "At least."
"Maybe we need to have a talk about the meaning of the word 'fired.'" I picked up the mug and sipped some coffee. "It doesn't mean 'keep coming to work and bothering me."
"I'm sorry." Duke batted his eyes innocently. "Did you just say something?"
I sighed disgustedly and looked past him to Minthe and Nephelae, who were still sitting around the computer. "So where are you headed, ladies?"
Minthe was the brunette with the green highlights. "The Peruvian Andes."
"Llactapata and Cota Coca," said Nephelae, the platinum blonde with light blue highlights. "Lost cities of the Inca."
"Not so lost anymore." Minthe smiled and shrugged. "But still exciting to us."
I nodded. Nymphs like Minthe and Nephelae are often tied to one place or phenomenon or plant. In Minthe's case, it was mint, believe it or not; with Nephelae, it was certain types of clouds. It can be tough for beings like them to travel, or at least to control where they go.
But there are ways for them to break away, and I know them well. It's why I get so much of their business...because they spend their lives tied down, longing to see the world, and I make it happen. Duke and I know all the tricks.
Stuck in a magic spring in Greece or a cursed bower in Provence? Always dreamed of getting wild at Mardi Gras on Bourbon Street or riding the Maid of the Mist through Niagara Falls? Call our toll free number or shoot us an e-mail, and we'll rock your world.
We'll feel good doing it, too. Like I said, I'm one of them myself. I must be, considering what I can do. So it's like I'm helping out the home team.
And they keep coming back for more.
"We loved Rio." Nephelae sighed and rolled her eyes with delight.
"The African safari was the best, I think," said Minthe. "I'll never forget the view from Victoria Falls."
"I'm glad you liked the trips. I'm glad we could help." As I said it, I felt my dark mood lighten just a little. Helping the nymphs keeps me going; that and my hobby, which is using my unique skills to hunt down killers.
If I couldn't travel beyond a cove or grove or pool, I know how I'd feel if someone helped me get to Paris or the Taj Mahal. Fortunately, I'm not stuck in one place in spite of my nymphiness. Duke's theory is that I'm an oread, a land-based nymph linked to mountains and valleys--but apparently, I'm a moveable oread. That's a good thing, because I think I'd totally lose my mind if I were stuck in one place for life. I like having my home base in a small town, but I also like being able to get away whenever I want to.
So I really identify with my special customers, and I can tell they like me, too. We share a bond I just don't have with other people. They're important to me, right up there with Duke; in fact, my best friend Aggie is one of them.
"Well now." Duke slid off the desk and clapped his hands together. "Are you sufficiently caffeinated, my dear? Would you care to help with these young ladies' itinerary?"
I took a long swallow of the warm, mellow coffee. (Did I mention Duke makes the best coffee on the planet?) I hated to admit it, but I was actually feeling better. Almost smiled but didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
"Nag nag nag." I lowered my voice for his benefit. "Why can't you let me wallow in my misery?"
Duke spoke softly, too. "Because this is a business, and I'd rather if you don't drive away all the customers." He gave me his most withering look, but I knew it was a put-on. The old man didn't have it in him to be pissed at me.
I drained the cup of coffee and plunked it on the desk. "Big man, telling me how to run my business."
"Good luck finding someone else who can do it better." Duke chuckled and ran a hand over his wavy hair, dyed shoe-polish black except for his sideburns, which were gray. Being who and what he was, he could've looked any age he liked, but he chose to be an old man. He looked like he was in his mid-70s, near the end of his life. He looked exactly the way he had near the end of his first life, back in the day. His real life. Back before he became what he is now, which isn't the same, isn't even human.
"You win this time," I said, though the truth was, Duke won every time. "Now get outta my way, Edward." With that, I pushed out of my chair and brushed past him.
"All right, ladies." I managed a grin as I thought about my last jab; Duke hated when I called him "Edward." Maybe today would turn out all right, after all. "Who wants to hear about a Peruvian Incan city that isn't on any maps?"
Minthe beamed like a floodlight. "Really?"
"You know of one?" Nephelae was breathless.
"But of course." I gave my hand a casual toss. "You won't find reference to it anywhere...but Cruel World Travel will set you up." It was true. Another of my special skills; I know places no one else alive in the world has ever seen or heard of.
Just as I settled into a chair between Minthe and Nephelae, I heard the front door's ring tone...a little ditty Duke was fond of called "Caravan." We'd set it to play every time someone opened the door; it sure beat the little bell every other business in North America used.
I didn't bother to turn around. Figured we had another customer and Duke could take care of them. But then I heard the familiar boots on the hardwood. Even before Duke said a word, I knew who it was.
"Good morning, Sheriff Briar." Duke sounded pleased; he liked the Sheriff a lot. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"
"No, thank you," said Briar. "I just need to talk to Gaia. I hate to interrupt..."
"You can't fool me, Dale." I smirked as I turned to face him. "Interrupting me is how you get your rocks off." It was a joke, because Dale Briar was a rockhound on the side--a rock collector slash prospector slash amateur gemologist.
But Briar wasn't in the mood for jokes. "This is pretty important, Gaia." He winced and combed his fingers through his thick brown hair. He looked uncomfortable.
"You need to wrap up Ray Long?" I figured there must be loose ends from the killer I'd turned over the night before. Wouldn't be the first time. "Can it wait like an hour or so? I'm with customers."
Briar shook his head and sighed. "Can't wait, Gaia. It's about Aggie."
Suddenly, I shot straight into red alert mode. I got up and walked away from Minthe and Nephelae without a word or a sideways glance.
"When was the last time you saw her?" said Briar. His expression was frighteningly grim.
I didn't want to answer. I was afraid of what he might say next. "Yesterday morning. Around eight."
"Okay." Briar fidgeted with a ring on his right pinky, twisting it back and forth. The stone was a super-rare red tiger's eye I'd found for him with my talents. Okay, I'd made it for him. He'd tumbled, cut, and set it in gold like a pro. "I'll tell you flat out, Gaia. Aggie's missing, and you were the last to see her."
"Missing?" The word sounded unreal as I said it.
"She didn't show up for work today," said Briar. "Didn't call in, either. No one's seen or heard from her since...well, since you saw her yesterday morning."
"That's over twenty-four hours." My heart pounded like a heavy metal drum solo. I felt flushed and chilled at the same time. Forget red alert; I was at Defcon Five and climbing.
"Does she have any family?" Briar raised his shaggy brows hopefully. "Maybe there was an emergency and she had to drop ever
ything."
"No blood relations," I said. "Aggie's like me."
Briar nodded. He didn't know everything about my world, but he knew enough to get the picture. He'd seen me in action more than a few times. "Can she take care of herself like you?"
I shook my head. Aggie didn't have my kind of abilities, and she wasn't much of a fighter.
"Then this just became my top priority." Briar turned and reached for the doorknob.
I beat him to it. He had to jump back to avoid getting hit in the face with the door as I flung it open.
Without a word to him or anyone, I charged out into the parking lot toward my black hybrid Toyota Highlander SUV. I was behind the wheel before Briar even got the door of his cop cruiser open.
And then I was gone, whipping out of the parking lot like I'd just robbed a bank. Briar chasing me with lights and siren blazing, barely keeping up.
Aggie. My breath caught in my throat as I raced toward her apartment. As I felt my mood shift into a third gear, one that had nothing to do with smooth sailing or sinking fast. One in which everything that slowed me down or distracted me peeled away, leaving nothing but a knifepoint of crystal clear focus and white hot intensity. Willingness to do terrible things. To do anything it took. Apocalypse in the chamber, hammer cocked, finger on the trigger.
For this mood, I didn't have a clever nickname.
*****
What happens next? Find out in Earthshaker, now on sale!
*****
About the Author
Robert T. Jeschonek is an award-winning writer whose fiction, comics, essays, articles, and podcasts have been published around the world. According to superstar fantasy and science fiction writer Mike Resnick, Robert "sees the world like no one else sees it, and makes incredibly witty, incisive stories out of that skewed worldview." DC Comics, Simon & Schuster, and DAW have published his work. Robert was nominated for the British Fantasy Award for his story, "Fear of Rain." His young adult urban fantasy novel, My Favorite Band Does Not Exist, is due in 2011 from Clarion Books/Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.
Visit Robert T. Jeschonek online at The Fictioneer website. You can also find him on Facebook and LiveJournal. Follow him as @TheFictioneer on Twitter. For news on his latest online projects, visit the Tsetse Press website at www.tsetsepress.com.
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