“Guild policies and ghosts,” Jade muttered.
“Work.” Clairice scowled. “And dealing with big guy here …”
Lorne gave his friend a playful shove. “Look, I see him one time …”
“Xianfu?” Jade and Garnet asked at the same time. The muscular Gendarme gave them both a friendly glare. Many of his friends were used to prying into people’s personal lives on the job - they seemed to enjoy using their skills on his life out of work.
“Yes. Yes, Verrigent’s partner. I saw him again before he and the team went out. He’s rather nice …”
“Blushing like a damn schoolgirl.” Garnet giggled. “Look at him!”
“He’s so cute when he’s got those little goo-goo eyes.” Clairice tried to keep a straight face, failing spectacularly. Eventually she broke down laughing as Lorne blushed a bright red.
“You like this guy?” Jade asked carefully. Lorne’s love life was a mine field of the heart, and it required a careful tread. She tried to visualize Xianfu, and kept coming up with a smile and not much else, sort of like how people rememberd Brandon.
“I may.” Lorne was still smiling. “He’s … he’s just a nice guy. Now, can we drop the subject?”
“Yeah, all the blood is rushing to his face, away from parts that may need it in the future!” Clairice snickered.
“Anyway … we have a few more minutes before any more useful nudity, what’s up people?” Garnet asked. “I missed the last get-together.”
“So did a lot of us,” Jade answered. “Kevin was even going to try to show up … but his lips are on Crone Harkness’ ass. Joe made it, I think he’s going to be sober for real. His mom watched him pretty damn carefully.”
“Great.” Garnet leaned back. “Gods, we get this vote out of the way and we an return to … er …”
“What we’re used to?” Lorne asked.
“Sounds good.” Garnet nodded. “I was going to say normal, but, well, yeah.”
“I damn well hope so,” Clairice grouched, sipping her drink. “Everyone at Metris General is wound tighter than a spring. Like they’re waiting for something to go wrong.”
“Hopefully.” Jade shook her head. “oh, well, I …”
There was a beeping sound. Jade quickly produced a mobile phone from her belt.
“Excuse me, I have to go deal with life for a moment.” Jade put the phone to her ear. “Or maybe death. You never know.”
” … so, you want to explain his again, Jade?”
Jade paced around her apartment, trying to bleed off nervous energy. HuanJen sat on the puffy white couch in the living room, as calm as a pillar of ice. The vulpine slowly moved around him, counterclockwise.
“OK, look, the Hamilton kid … called me. I left a bunch of cards. And he told me Minerva took the job. Bitch.”
“You have …”
“No proof but the word of a ten-year old. That’s not enough to go on. Fuck. And I know how this’ll go, no one has time. Hotlines and vote counting and damn it.”
“What are you going to do?”
Jade tapped her foot.
“I have an idea,” She said finally. “Just an idea.”
“Good.”
“You aren’t going to ask if I want you to handle it?” Jade asked.
“No. No I’m not.” HuanJen cocked his head. “Why should I?”
Jade scrambled for words, and found only one.
“Thanks.”
March 5th, 2000 AD, Xaian Standard Calendar
Jade wasn’t in the field for most of the day, as much as she wanted to be there. Even when she was there physically, mentally she was elsewhere. At trolley-stops, at lunch, she thumbed through printouts and small books, jotting notes. At the apartment, she looked very carefully through HuanJen’s library and a few select CD-ROMs.
It was simple, really. She was, in the end, a child of Colony, a child of conspiracy and secrets and research and blackmail. Finding things was what she did. Secrets were the weapons of Colony.
It was a political time. Politics she knew - she hated them, but she knew them, bound into her bones like iron cable.
And it was …
… Rake and his fellow holy men discussing the supernatural calmly, and the sense of the world tied together . .
… and the idea of what would happen if the Watching Dead and other entities were just considered obstacles …
… and no one was going to stop her from fixing things. She’d turned vices into virtues, falls into rises, downs into ups before. She’d do it again.
March 6th, 2000 AD, Xaian Standard Calendar
Anita Hamilton looked around her house nervously. She fiddled with her coat. The house was so nice, so neat, so well furnished, and now she was worried it wasn’t going to be any of those things - or even a house for that matter. Her husband hovered nearby, trying to look calm.
“Are you sure …”
“Yes!” Minerva Monroe said happily, looking around the living room. “It’ll only take a few minutes..”
Mr. Hamilton nodded nervously. “Everything is in order. Our son is at a classmates. The computers and electronic equipment are downstairs. In those boxes you provided.”
“Good.” The techno-exorcist nodded. “Now, it sounds like the haunt is exhausted …”
“… after what it did to the kitchen, it should be,” Mrs. Hamilton spat.
“Eh, no problem. Won’t even wake the neighbors.” Minerva dropped into a chair, and removed her backpack. She began removing a series of strange, cylindrical devices.
“Now these babies will generate a nice EM field, very subtle, right frequency. Should knock him right off of his foundations unless you have something really unusual, and my guess is you don’t.”
“And?” Mr. Hamilton began.
“No worries.” Minerva began walking around the living room, placing two of the cylinders carefully. “Look, no one’s going to butt in, they don’t have a leg to stand on. No one has time.”
The Hamiltons didn’t respond, allowing Minerva to walk around the house with her strange technologies. It only took the odd Esotericist a few moments to return, holding a small box in her hand.
“Voila! Just need this trigger and whammo. Let’s step outside, and we can …”
There was a knock at the door, the quick jiggle of someone testing the knob, and the front door flew open. Jade, bearing the Lakkom in her right hand and a sheaf of papers in the other made a most unwelcome appearance.
“No one move. Guild Esoteric situation, definition Threat To Non-Physical Life. As a member of the Guild, I am investigating. Oh, and as per Guild Charter, I am empowered to use force, and I am required to note that I am inclined to do so.”
Three bewildered looks were her response. Jade stalked forward, and handed the papers to Ms. Hamilton.
“It’s all there,” Jade stated soberly. “Drop whatever the hell that is Minerva. Guild Esoteric recognizes the watching dead as sentients, and whatever the hell you want to think yourself of, you’re in the Guild. Now, the city sort of recognizes the Watching Dead as citizens. Want to bet that if you fucked with the Guild and city law I could get your sorry ass thrown through Portal Gimmel for murder?”
Minerva blinked, then began to speak, only to be cut off by Jade.
“And don’t try the ‘you can’t prove it’ because I can and did. Never, ever fuck with a Vulpine about politics, Minerva. I can dig deeper than you can imagine into every obscure policy that some anal-retentive Guildsman ever created. Now drop whatever that is.”
The technologist backed up, raising the trigger menacingly. Jade noded a single red button on it. One of those obvious, this-means business red buttons some people seemed to adore.
“Drop it, exorbitch.”
Minerva gave Jade a strange look “Exorbitch?”
Jade shook her head. “Put. Down. The gizmo. I read up on you. I know how you do things.”
“Exorbitch?”
“I’ll invent a better expletive la
ter. Drop. It. Now,” The Vulpine warned, raising the Lakkom. The greenish sphere on the end of the mysterious artifact glowed evilly, lighting the bladelike attachment that ran alongside it.
“No.” Minerva put one hand on her hip. “Listen, I don’t care what obscure guild or city laws …”
There was a whine from the Lakkom, a ripple in the air, and Minerva flew back, crashing into a doorway. The trigger bounced off a wall and skittered onto the floor.
“I told you,” Jade snarled, stepping forward, “Guild policies. No one dies, not even a second time.”
The trigger crunched under Jade’s boot. She paused to give it an extra stomp. It was rather satisfying.
“There, now our friendly ghost isn’t in any danger from any unprincipled hacks.”
“You . . ,” Minerva began, only to find herself looking at the glowing green orb and jet-black blade that made up the ‘firing’ end of the Lakkom. Having seen the strange device in action, she found having it pointed at her was an excellent incentive to be quiet.
“Shut up,” Jade said with deadly seriousness. “Shut up you self-important bitch. You want to fuck around? You know, it’s one of those times everyone alive or dead is restless, and you wanted to knock off a Watcher? How fucking stupid can you be? With everything else, lets pour more gasoline on the goddamn fire!”
Jade paused, and looked at the Hamiltons. “Sorry for the swearing.”
“Don’t mention it,” Mrs. Hamilton managed, sounding dazed.
“OK!” Jade pointed at Minerva. “So, are we going to march down to the Guildhall and file a report on this or are we going to do this the hard way, cause if you do I guarantee I’ll drag to the Gendarmes first if you do. Your call. It doesn’t matter either way to me how far down the toilet you want to flush your career.”
Minerva glared at Jade, eyes burning like forge-fires. Jade looked back, calmly, icy, as still as a pillar of marble running to the core of Xai.
The Technologist-exorcist looked away. “Let’s go to the Guildhall.”
“Good.” Jade grinned. “Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, since I’ve been a bit agressive, I’ll offer you a counseling deal for your ghost at 80% of Guild rates. I don’t want any hard feelings, after all. I’m sure you understand now that I wouldn’t go to the effort to protect such an entity, and entity that could probably make your lives a living hell if you didn’t try and live with it, without reason.”
The Hamiltons looked around the house for a few nervous moments, then back at Jade.
“We’ll take it?” Mr. Hamilton half-answered.
“Great!” Jade pulled a brochure out of her satchel. “And here’s a list of some of the useful services the Guild provides. Please, be sure to check our web page. Thanks for letting HuanJen and I serve your spiritual needs. Oh, and here’s our card, incase you lost the first one I gave you. Please keep us in mind for future needs.”
March 8th, 2000 AD, Xaian Standard Calendar
Jade lay back in the couch, enjoying a yorkie-free evening.
HuanJen had carried the little terror of a terrier over to Mrs. Kline’s a few minutes ago. She could once again look forward to evenings without a small ball of fur begging for table scraps and mornings without dog-breath melting her nostrils. A pet just wasn’t her thing right now.
Or children. The thought ricocheted around her mind. HuanJen had, awhile ago, said a few things about marriage. It did make her think, but made her think this wsn’t the time. Besides, she hadn’t been on Xai even a year.
The apartment door swung open and HuanJen entered silently. “Back, dear. Buster is home and Mrs. Kline seems quite happy.”
“Great. I bet he’s happy …”
” … and Mrs. Kline mentioned something, ahem, about us being noisy last night. Apparently she came home late and we were … vocal.”
“You were vocal,” Jade corrected. “My mouth was full at your loudest moments.”
“As I recall when you were most vocal, you were facing the wall. Well, no matter,” HuanJen walked over to Jade and sat down, wrapping his long arms around her, “We’ll use my room next time. So, all is well?”
“All is well,” Jade sighed, leaning into the embrace. “I also had one more talk with the Hamiltons, they’re quite … receptive. Minerva, I doubt, will cause any trouble.”
“No. In also added some statements of my own to your deposition. I hope you understand.”
“Nah. The more smackdown she gets the better. There’s Rake, and you, and I hope me … and then there’s the fuckarounds. Let her rot after they yank her membership.”
HuanJen shifted his weight, letting Jade lay across his lap and torso. “Speaking of the guild. Two days according to Dealer Zero and that research Ahn did. Rake’s had a weird dream or two. We’re going to be meeting.”
“I … figured.”
“At the Nax. And we’ll see … what happens. We’ll see if Ziggurat Jack shows up.”
March 9th, 2000 AD, Xaian Standard Calendar
Three days until the Council vote.
People talked, the newspapers blared headlines, the newscasters tried to sound open-minded even though they all belonged to the Communicants. Everyone said they were tired of politics, no one avoided mentioning them.
A figure appeared on the side of a building, created by rain mixing with the contents of a tipped-over can of paint on the roof. By the time the rain had stopped, the image had been smeared beyond recognition.
Riakka Bale was praying.
She paced around the living room of her small, one-person apartment provided by the University. Candles on her personal altar flickered, their light turning her brown-and-red historians robes into flowing clouds of ambiguity.
“My lord, I do not know, and I do not understand. I feel terrible. I don’t know what Paldayne is up to.”
Riakka stopped. She dabbed away a tear. She’d always prayed to the Historian, even when younger. She’d remembered when she got her scholarship and insisted her parents make a large donation to the temple.
“Historian, hear your child’s plea. I ask what is happening, I ask . .”
There was the sound of wood on wood. She turned to find the small idol of Galcir The Historian, her Guild’s patron, had been knocked over by a candle. It landed on the floor, face down.
“Damn.” The young Historian snuffed out the candle with her fingertips and set the idol back up.
“Not a good sign, not good …”
March 10th, 2000 AD, Xaian Standard Calendar
The Nax was busy. It was always busy in a kind of constant-low key way. Being the bar and grill for the more unusual members of Metrisian culture, there were always enough strange people to provide constant business.
Richard Nax, looking like a nervous walrus that happened to be given human form, looked at the back room. He pulled at his handlebar mustache, hoping no one else at the bar noticed his manner - people expected him to be quiet, but friendly. Customers liked quiet.
The people in the back room, he worried, wouldn’t stay quiet. Or something … associated with them … wouldn’t stay quiet. At least they were back there, at no extra charge, just in case.
Richard wasn’t Xaian, he was a happily adjusted immigrant, but you picked up Xaian traditions by a kind of cultural osmosis. One of them was that a few holy men in one place was good - over four was usually a bad sign.
There were four in the back room. He was sure more would come.
“So. How about that new show? Battle Chefs?” HuanJen asked, looking around the back room of the Nax, at his fellow holy men gathered around the table.
His companions didn’t seem particularly conversant. Rake was staring at a point three inches from nowhere, looking deadly serious. Ahn, not acquainted with being in a bar or any similar establishment, looked lost. Brownmiller merely shrugged.
Silence settled in.
“She’ll be here, soon, HuanJen?” Ahn finally asked.
“Yes. I suspect.” The mystic sighed. “I …”
<
br /> “Before she, ah, get’s here. Let’s do it,” Rake said smoothly, suddenly focused on his companions.
The collected clerics looked around at each other, then reached into their pockets, satchels, robes, and pouches. Moments later, pagers, cellular phones, Clericall units, and similar devices littered the table.
“A Borekki Sphere?” Rake looked at the small, glassy globe Brownmiller had set on the table.
The shaman’s tubby face was split by a grin. “It doesn’t work well, but it’s something. You never know what it may detect.”
“Around here, most likely us,” Ahn added quietly. “It is already shifted into green.”
“Well, if it goes blue or violet, then it won’t matter what it’s detected.” Brownmiller replied curtly. “Because we’ll want to be there no matter what.”
“So, now we wait,” HuanJen looked at the devices on the table. Clerics and mystics on Xai covered a variety of services, from the spiritual to the psychological to even some medicines; few didn’t have a pager or other way to be reached. He himself carried a pager, the strange networked warning device known as Clericall, and a cellular phone.
Of all of them, they’d doubtlessly hear something.
Temple Street. It had been Temple Street for years, just as Shard Tower has been Shard Tower for years. Enough years becomes eternity, and eternity has weight and power.
Temple Street was power, history running backwards to Creation, viewed through an infinity of lenses.
The clouds passed over the moon. Swiftly-moving clouds, hurrying across the sky like bugs skittering across the floor, blocking the moonlight intermittently.
… a flash of someone running into an alley behind the infamous X Libris bookstore, proprietor of fine questionable documents. No one notices people around X Libris out of politeness - especially when there’s been a recent shipment of books on sex magick or tantra.
… chalk scratched on a wall by a hand driven by something that would be madness if it wasn’t so refined.
… and on the walls of the store is a crudely drawn figure of a man in a coat, a mask covering most of his head. A complete drawing, every line closed.
” … you found it funny?” Ahn asked.
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