by M. L. Ryan
Everyone assumed that was what motivated our current freak, but usually anyone that screwed up was fairly easy to catch. They tended to be so consumed by their personal demons that they didn’t cover their tracks very well. This guy was different. Not only did he seem to enjoy killing, the more grisly the better, he also seemed to revel in taunting his pursuers. This fact disturbed the Xyzok more than anything else. They felt it signaled he was likely to continue his murderous excesses.
The second conundrum was where he had gone. It seemed he had dropped off the face of the Earth, but there was no indication that he had gone back to Courso, and it was impossible to cloak himself in this dimension long enough to avoid detection. Karttyx didn’t want to wait until the killer struck again, but there was little else they could do. In the meantime, Alex and Sebastian were to monitor any trans-dimensional anomalies that might suggest Mr. Freak Show had popped back into the human world, if he had actually managed to pop out in the first place. If they did find anything suspicious, I’d do a fly-by to scope out the situation.
Of course, that only applied if the suspicious stuff was outside. However, my newly expanded job responsibilities might include some non-Yterixa sleuthing. My unique magical signature would be perceived as the minor fluctuations of a Courso-human hybrid. Quite a few products of Courso and human couplings populated my world. These inter-dimensional offspring typically possessed superior speed and strength, but they attributed their super-athleticism to luck and good genes. I suppose their genes did play a big role, but in any case, the vast majority had no idea they were anything other than completely human. Karttyx and Sebastian thought I’d be a natural; I shouldn’t arouse any undo suspicion as a human because my magic wasn’t very strong. Once again, my overall averageness would make me a perfect undercover agent. I wouldn’t stand out, and any Courso criminal would completely overlook me.
As the evening wore down, Karttyx excused herself and retreated to one of the guestrooms. Her guards also made themselves scarce—I guessed they were still in protection mode, but whatever they were up to, at least they weren’t patrolling the hallway outside her room. I didn’t want to get up in the middle of the night for a snack, and be gunned down on the way to the kitchen.
Alex hadn’t said much since Karttyx brought up the idea of me taking a more active role in Xyzok investigations. Sebastian had something to discuss with Alex, but I was tired so I went to our room and got ready for bed.
When I came out of the bathroom, Alex was lying fully dressed on top of the duvet. His expression was grim, and I couldn’t tell if he was worried or angry. Whatever he was feeling, I’d never seen him look quite so unhappy.
I knew this was one of those times when, as an adult, I was supposed to jump right in and have, you know, an adult conversation. In the past, my lack of self-confidence drove me to avoid conflict at all cost. I still wasn’t quite ready to initiate the potentially difficult dialogue myself, but rather than feigning exhaustion and sidestepping it altogether, I plunked down on the end on the bed and waited for Alex to explain his angst. Unfortunately, Alex must have had the same idea because neither of us said a word. He didn’t even look at me.
When the awkward silence became unbearable, I blew out a breath. “You don’t seem thrilled with Karttyx’s proposition.” It was a lame opening line, but I couldn’t think of anything more original.
“You are correct,” he said with a scowl. “It is incautious of her to propose that you should be involved any more than you already are.”
From experience, I knew he only used stilted, archaic verbage when he was pissed. “Because you think it’s too dangerous or because you think I can’t do it?”
Alex sat up suddenly and swung his legs off the side of the bed. “Of course it is too dangerous,” he snapped. “I’m not happy about what you are doing now.” He raked his hands through his hair and huffed out a sigh. “This isn’t a game. You could get hurt.”
Placing my fingertips on his arm, I said softly, “Caryxa, I understand the potential risks. But I’m always careful.” I used the Courso endearment, the masculine equivalent of carisa, as a means to be as reassuring as possible. It was a word that expressed love and devotion, and I didn’t use it all that often. Not that I didn’t adore Alex, but I was still a little gun-shy about making that kind of proclamation. Years of iffy relationships and a nasty divorce tended to have that effect.
“Your caution isn’t the issue. We hunt criminals, most of whom have no compunction about doing whatever is necessary to assure that they are not apprehended.”
So much for the soothing. “Look, I understand how you feel. Don’t you think I’m freaked out every time you go out on some mission that you might not come back from it in one piece? Or at all? But most of that is because I don’t know what’s going on. You are right there with me when I’m working.”
“That is not even remotely the same,” he said, adding a dismissive flip of his hand. “I have been trained for this.”
With my hands cupped on either side of his chin, I forced him to look at me. “Then train me.”
Alex moved my hands from his face and gripped them firmly. “It isn’t that simple. You can’t acquire the knowledge you need in a month, or even a year. I am one hundred and forty years old, and most of those years were spent learning how to be a Xyzok.” His voice was raised, almost yelling. He paused and, in a somewhat calmer tone, added, “You can be of service without actually going into the field.”
Of course, he was right on all accounts, but always acting rationally was essentially incompatible with my makeup. I wasn’t prepared to give in yet. “I can’t explain this, but I really feel like I was meant to do this. Why else would all this have happened to me if there wasn’t a reason?”
In general, I was pretty sure everything in life was random and there was no “big plan.” But in this case, it was hard to imagine the only explanation for being possessed by an inter-dimensional, and bestowed with magical abilities, was to make my life more complicated. “I can change into a bird. I can’t waste that by sitting here staring into a computer screen and analyzing data.”
The last part came out snippier than I had planned, but I’d never heard Alex speak to me with such ire, and I found that I was starting to get a little angry myself. In the past, when I was in this type of situation, my anger would surface not with shouting back, but with tears. Which always pissed me off even more. This time, there were no tears, but I had to take a calming breath to keep from escalating from snippy to irate.
“Look, I get that you are worried, but I don’t think Karttyx is proposing that I go out on solo missions tomorrow. I don’t even want to be out on solo missions. I just think I can do more.”
Perhaps I didn’t mask my petulance as well as I thought because rather than diffuse the situation, my remarks seemed to have the opposite effect. Alex threw up his hands and stalked into the bathroom. I sat on the bed, staring blankly at the now-closed lavatory door. Alex was always so rational, so levelheaded. What the fuck just happened?
I waited, hoping Alex had suddenly felt an urgent need to empty his bladder. When I heard the water running in the shower, I realized he didn’t plan on coming out any time soon. Fine. If he wants some time to cool off, so can I.
Changing into running gear, I left the house. I did a few cursory stretches and jogged off into the darkness. The desert was aglow with light from the nearly full moon, so I didn’t need a flashlight to illuminate the way. In fact, the moonlight was so bright that I cast a shadow. The night air was crisp, and the rhythmic pace of my running began to erase some of my agitation. By the time I’d hit my stride, I had stopped rehashing every minute detail of the argument. When I decided to loop back, I had almost completely exhausted the litany of smart-ass barbs I could have used in response to Alex’s polemic.
About a mile or so from the house, I started to hear frantic barking in the distance. I was so mad when I departed that I completely forgot my absences sometimes freaked
out the dog. Sebastian will have a shit-fit if that’s Rufus. I increased my pace. If it was my dog, I needed to get back as soon as possible.
After a few hundred feet, I noticed an unusual scent permeating the area. Why does it smell like burnt hair? I wondered as I breathed in the odd odor. Before I could process the origin of the smell, a heavy electrical sensation, like being engulfed in a charged blanket, forced me to slow down. And then, I felt nothing.
6
The first thought that popped into my mind when I regained consciousness was, have I been unconscious? It seemed as if I had lost a lot of time, although if someone asked me what led me to that conclusion, I wouldn’t have been able to give a reason. All I knew for sure was I had been running in the desert, and suddenly I wasn’t, and wherever I was now, I felt like I’d been squeezed through a hole half the size of my body. Everything seemed to ache except my head, which hurt so bad I wished it felt as good as the rest of me. I knew I should probably take a look around, but somehow opening my eyes seemed like it would require too much energy.
After a few moments, the sharp pain in my head subsided somewhat and morphed into a dull pounding. It was a definite improvement, but I still felt like shit. Tentatively, I let my eyelids flutter open and realized I wasn’t outside anymore. I was propped up against a wall, and there was plush carpeting under me. It seemed uncomfortably bright, and I silently reprimanded myself for opening my eyes as I used my hand to shade them.
To my left, I heard footsteps. The sound got louder, and the aroma of singed hair wafted toward me. When the footfalls stopped, I could make out a pair of heavy, black leather, laced boots on the floor in front of me. They looked a lot like Doc Martens, but without the yellow stitching.
“Ah. You are awake.”
I figured the owner of the deep voice was attached to the shit-kickers. I was smart that way. Pushing past my mental fog, I slowly raised my head. Fortunately, the guy with the boots was not particularly tall because moving my head made the throbbing between my temples worse. He was dressed all in black—trousers, vest, and shirt—and his clothing contrasted with his pale skin. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but scared and in pain, I settled for the simplest first.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Who I am is of little consequence at the moment.”
“Okay. What the fuck are you?”
He threw his head back and howled with amusement. At least, I thought he was entertained, but the sound was anything but light-hearted; the peals of laughter made every hair on my body stand at attention.
Still chuckling, Doc Martens crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you?” he said mockingly. “Not where am I or how did I get here, but what are you. All the time I’ve been watching you, I had no idea you had such a sense of humor.”
Great. What was this guy, some psycho stalker? And while I could be moderately amusing from time to time, my last comment didn’t strike me as particularly funny.
The inequity of our relative positions made me want to stand, but I wasn’t sure I was up to it just yet. In an effort to make myself feel less vulnerable, I pushed myself up so I sat straighter against the wall. It didn’t really achieve the intended purpose, but at least I didn’t have to tilt my head up as far.
“Believe me, I want the answers to both those other questions. But you wouldn’t tell me who you are, and it’s obvious you aren’t human, so asking what you are seemed like a way to get the conversation rolling.”
“It is quite a long story. However,” he continued with a smirk, “you are, as they say, a captive audience, so I believe we will have the time.”
He reached down and offered his hand. I really didn’t want to touch him, or stand up for that matter, but I got the distinct impression that I didn’t have much choice. Heaving a resigned sigh, I extended my arm and let him pull me to my feet. I braced for the inevitable dizziness, but surprisingly, I felt fairly steady. My head didn’t hurt anymore either.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I transmitted a bit of healing power just now. You looked like you could use it,” he remarked, his smug grin widening.
Now that I was able to look around without worrying my head might explode, I realized we were in some sort of a warehouse or a large storage unit. The walls were concrete, as was the floor. What I had at first assumed was carpeting underneath me was actually just a small, round rug. There was no door that I could see, and no windows. Sunlight streamed through long, narrow skylights that lined the ceiling. The daylight explained the bright conditions and confirmed my fear that I had been out for a while.
We walked side by side across the wide expanse to the only furnishings—two folding canvas chairs, the kind people bring to kid’s soccer games—on the opposite side of the room. He motioned for me to sit on the smaller of the two, and moved the other so it faced mine.
Now that I was feeling more normal, at least physically, I had a chance to get a better look at my abductor. Average build, average height. Aside from his striking, blue-black, straight hair and his deep voice, there was nothing particularly noteworthy about him. Great, that will make it that much harder to describe the bastard when I get out of this. If I get out of this, I thought morosely.
“I’ll just get right to the point if that’s agreeable to you,” he said as he plopped down in his seat. He turned his hand up, and a hazy swirl of color formed on his palm. Within seconds, the whorl coalesced into a three-dimensional image.
I’d seen this before. The Coursodon don’t carry photos. Instead, they used magic to allow others to see what was in their memory. In this case, however, he wasn’t sharing shots of the family on vacation. The hologram showed the hikers, clearly dead but not dismembered, lined up on the ground. He added a new twist, at least for me, when he changed the still image into a video from his perspective. I might have appreciated the effect if I wasn’t viewing one of the hiker’s arms being hacked off from the hacker’s point of view. Feeling the bile rise in my throat, I snapped my gaze away from the horrific site in his hand and back to his face. The freak was still grinning.
“Okay, that’s enough. I get who you are.”
“Excellent,” he congratulated, and flicked his hand. I assumed that meant the snuff film had ended, but I didn’t check to make certain. “I suspect you are now concerned that this is your fate as well,” he continued. “Let me assure you, you have nothing to fear.”
“You will forgive me if I find that hard to believe.” I was trying to appear calm, but my voice wavered a little. You’d think, this being my fourth life-and-death situation in less than a year, I’d be used to this. So much for bravado.
“No, no,” he countered, wagging a reprimanding finger at me, “I fully intend to return you to where you came from.”
“Alive?”
He smiled again, slowly this time. “Yes and, unlike the humans in the mountains, in one piece.”
I figured his platitudes should be taken with an ocean of salt, given the whole triple murder thing. That was probably what every homicidal maniac said to his victims, but at least I could pretend that he meant it if for no other reason than to keep the tenuous grip on my composure.
“Then why am I here?”
Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on his knees and looked directly at me. His cold, impassive eyes were black like his clothes and hair. The smile had disappeared.
“What are you, half Courso? A quarter? Your signature is difficult to sort out.” He continued to study me for a moment, and then shook his head. “Your parentage is of no importance really. Suffice to say that, because you are a hybrid and thus have no magical abilities, you are no threat. Actually, no one is a threat, but why take any undue risks at this point?” He laughed heartily, and was clearly amused by something I didn’t understand.
As his cackling trailed off, he wiped a tear from his eye before resuming. “However, my lovely, you are very well-connected, which makes you the perfect messenger. Killing the humans was necessary to a
ttract the attention of the Xyzok. I even unshielded my essence to make certain the enforcers took notice. They might not have done so as quickly if I had simply dispatched the hikers. I do think the bit of theater, a virtual trail of body parts, was a stroke of genius. Besides, you humans decompose so quickly, I could barely stand the stench of intact corpses even after a few hours. At least it wasn’t summer. Otherwise, it might have been completely intolerable.”
Unlike humans, when a Courso died, their spiritual essence broke down but the bodies never decayed. Regardless, Doc’s complaints about having to lug around smelly human body parts didn’t evoke any sympathy.
“Yeah, I can see how that might have been a terrible problem.”
The sarcasm was obviously lost on him, because he simply nodded and replied, “Quite so.” It was probably a good thing that he was oblivious to my real meaning as I certainly didn’t need to rile him up. I made a mental note to keep my over-developed snarkiness in check when conversing with a kidnapper.
After a moment, he continued. “As I was saying, now that I have the enforcers’ attention, I want you to deliver a message to the Courso powers that be. Tell them that I have magic that they cannot begin to fathom. Soon, I will make a bit of that power known throughout Coursodon. Tell them in order to avoid annihilation, they must agree to my terms. I want to be worshipped. I want total control over all governments. They will have one month to submit, or I will unleash such destruction that they will plead for death.”
He never raised his voice, and his expression remained aloof. What is it with me and complete lunatics? I’m like a magnet for the completely unhinged, and this dude is wearing a solid iron straight jacket.