by Gavin Green
"I - I appreciate that." Damn, he knew me better than I thought. There was nothing else that I had any emotional ties to. It was just a matter of getting more stuff.
"Also inside this box is a new phone with a preset number. The ShadoWorks number and those of other people we both know have been added into the directory. Turn your existing cell phone off and put in the safe with the other items."
"Yes sir. Uh, what happens to my house?"
"There is little to be done about it. The utilities will go unpaid and then turned off. One of your friends or neighbors will ultimately declare you missing. You have no immediate family. The only will you have was made during your time in the Marines, where you bequeathed everything you own to your mother. The state will have to wait the standard seven years to declare you legally dead and seize your property."
"Shit, seven years? Don't you think I could get back to being . . . well, me, before that happens?"
"I would hope so, although I have since learned long ago to prepare for any conceivable outcome. I will give you this evening to let this information sink in," he said as he stood. "Tomorrow, go buy appropriate clothing for the sewers. I suggest hip waders and waterproof gloves at the minimum."
Viggo seemed tired. Not the 'I need a nap' tired; I mean that weary-to-the-core tired. It wasn't in his body language or movements, though. I got the feeling that his drained aspect was due to some mental or emotional struggle. Stoic like my father was, but honorable like dear old dad wasn't, I knew Viggo wouldn't talk about it then - maybe not ever. "I'll be ready for tomorrow night, sir," I replied.
After Viggo stepped into one of the dark offices and left, I went through the stuff he brought. None of it was enough to bring on weepy nostalgia, but I'm glad I had all of my personal items. The last thing I did before hitting the sack was to look at the list of contacts that had been put into my fancy new phone. I wanted to set at least a couple of the numbers up on speed dial for emergencies.
Of course, there was the ShadoWorks number, plus the numbers for Barnabus Merritt, Shawn Riordan, Natalie Stewart, Michael Vestergaard (I assumed that was Ragna's scion, the Nordic priest), Milo (just Milo, no last name) and someone called 'Roach'. There was one more name on the list, and it shocked the shit out of me. I slammed my drink and looked again to be sure.
I wasn't familiar with the number, but I knew the name all too well: Gwen Solomon.
OFFSPRING
'Conflicted' is probably the best word to describe what I felt that night. On one side of the coin, I felt somehow betrayed, or at least disillusioned, to learn that my close friend was not quite what she seemed. Granted, Gwen had contacts with law officials, high-end clients, and various other people in specific fields, but I wondered if that was the only reason she worked for Viggo. She might also have been chosen to help keep an eye on me. I didn't know if she'd tell me the truth, and I sure as hell wasn't going to ask Viggo about it. The trust I had in Gwen was damaged.
On the other side of that coin, though, I didn't have too much room to bitch. We were both keeping the same secret from each other; I assumed she'd just been keeping hers longer. If Gwen was keeping track of me for Viggo, that could only have been a good thing, right? It just felt underhanded.
I guess it all came down to the validity of our friendship. If Gwen and I became friends simply out of mutual interests and enjoying each other's company, then great. But I couldn't know that for sure anymore. It could just as easily have been that Viggo told her to get close to me and gain my trust for the sake of knowing more about me. There was no good way to find out, and I wasn't sure I wanted to.
That night, I had a short dream about Viggo. He was dressed in rags, sitting on a moonlit ledge outside of a cave, and was reading a copy of Paradise Lost. Don't ask me what that meant. I have no idea.
I didn't want to dwell on Gwen or another weird Viggo dream - I only wanted to focus on my new duties. The 'ignore me' practice had a calming effect; I was feeling all Zen-like when workers showed up to make the gate and garage doors electric. When they finished, I took the van and went shopping. Booted chest waders, waterproof gloves, and a hardhat with a headlamp - everything I thought I'd need for sewer travel. I wouldn't be getting any dates with that gear on, but I wasn't expecting any cute chicks to be hanging out near storm tunnels and drain grates. My guns would be my date.
Viggo showed up a little while after nightfall, looked me up and down with no visible emotion, and then led me downstairs into the cramped utility basement. Under a big tool chest set on casters was a circular metal hatch, hinged on one side. Not wasting any time, Viggo opened it and climbed down the rungs. I squirted some Ben-Gay on my finger and smeared it on my upper lip before I followed. Yeah, that shit stinks, but it's a bed of fucking roses compared to the gagging reek of a sewer.
The round tunnel we were in was relatively clean, with only a trickle of dirty water running down the middle. "We'll walk for a while until we get to a main juncture," Viggo said, "if only to familiarize you with the sights and sounds of a city's underbelly. From there, we may void walk to a more populated location." I hoped like hell he wasn't talking about his horde of rats. They weren't great company.
We walked for hours, keeping to main tunnels. That didn't mean they were pleasant; some sections of the sewers were truly disgusting. I felt like I was visiting the dark, echoing kingdom of Stench, attended by scurrying bugs and rats. Oh, and let's not forget the bloated or partially eaten carcasses of dead animals floating by, or washed up on cement inclines. Those made me dab on more Ben-Gay.
By the address signs near manhole alcoves, I could tell we were moving generally northwest toward downtown. I kept that in mind as I followed my commander, wondering what our destination was. While we walked, Viggo and I discussed a number of topics. He started off stating that it was my mother's lineage that he kept track of, and that he once saved her from what would have been a fatal car wreck when she was a teenager. My mom was always a lousy driver, so it was no surprise.
The story of my mom's near-death experience led me to ask if Clara Page had a premonition or dream about it and warned him. I gathered enough from what Ragna said to deduce that the hemo girl was some sort of psychic. I never bought into that shit until lately, when I began to realize that almost any damn thing was possible.
"Actually, yes she did," Viggo answered frankly. "Clara has always had visions, made stronger after her mind fractured when, as a mortal, she was attacked and crippled. It occurred during the great depression. I saw potential in her, so I took away her pain. Clara is one of my offspring."
"Ah, so her . . . and Wayne . . ."
"And four others, if that's what you're wondering. One sleeps in a catacomb somewhere in Italy. Another is the Doyen of Munich, Germany. The other two have long since departed this world."
I didn't know how tender of a subject that was, so I left it alone. We moved on to the much more mundane subject of sewers, tunnels and hemo rooms and passages. While Viggo explained things at length, I kept thinking that a map would've been a hell of a lot easier. I wasn't going to interrupt him, though. Besides, he was adding little details of locations, city employee routes, and Deviant-set traps. There was a lot to commit to memory. I hoped there wasn't a test later.
We stopped in a particularly putrid brick-lined tunnel, off of a main drain shaft. I stood next to Viggo on a narrow walkway, looking down at the black water rushing by. "Is there something important here, sir?" I asked over the roaring flow.
"Only this door," he replied, pointing to the wall behind me.
I turned around, and . . . well, I'll be damned. There was an iron door set flush into the brick wall. If I'd shined a light directly on it, I would've seen it. What helped to conceal the door was that it didn't have a handle, and it was covered with algae like the walls were. It blended in without the need for Viggo to mask it with his shadow Gift.
"Behind this door is one of the many passages my faction has created. This entry leads to a number of
locations. City workers cannot gain access because the strength needed to open it is beyond most mortals. You may make an attempt, if you like."
Wanting to impress, I scraped off some of the slimy algae from both the door and the walkway in front of it. In the tight confines, I didn't have much leverage. Still, I managed to budge it a few inches. Given enough time before exhaustion set in, I might've been able to open it wide enough to slip through. I didn't get the chance. Viggo put one hand on the door and gave it a casual shove. With a grinding sound heard over the water, it yielded to his inhuman strength and swung open. Either he was showing off, or he was just impatient to keep moving. Either way, the display of power impressed the hell out of me.
Past the thick door, I didn't need my headlamp. The ten-foot square tunnel was strung in both upper corners with strings of Christmas lights (not the blinking kind) as far as I could see until the stone hallway gradually curved to the left. The colorful bulbs didn't exactly put me in a festive mood. If Santa jumped out from some hidden doorway, I probably would've shot him.
Viggo shut the door behind us, and we started walking again while he asked me about what I did in the Marines. I told him that many of my missions were still classified, but I'd tell him if he told me to. Viggo did not want me to break an oath, so I talked about my training instead.
Soon enough, we came to a sort of intersection in a widened area. Three other hallways led off from it, plus a wide staircase to my left leading down, and a narrow one ahead of us going up. Viggo kept moving without hesitation. Okay, up it was. Another hallway was at the top of the stone stairs, with an emergency exit door at the end of it. The door had some high-tech code entry to unlock the push bar.
Viggo pressed some numbers on the touchscreen and then turned to me . . . but it wasn't Viggo. Instead of the cracked-earth skin, wiry white hair and inky black eyes I'd gotten used to, I saw a very different face. Shit, he looked human - still big and intimidating, but human.
The features of Viggo's face were still the same - straight nose, strong jaw, thick brows - but his eyes were a normal brown. Still bald on top, his hair was short and dark. He looked to be in his thirties, with frown lines and crow's feet. I immediately thought: that's what he looked like when he was human. I'd gotten so used to his creepy appearance that his sudden mundane disguise really disturbed me.
DERELICT
Viggo ignored my stare and said, "Beyond this door may be someone who I have occasional dealings with. Like me, she is a creature of the night. However, she is what my society calls a derelict; one that, for various reasons, is without a faction and must survive without the protection of our laws. She is still young enough to use the term 'vampire', although she's proven herself to be clever and resourceful. Of course, she is completely unaware of my true identity, except that I am a Deviant. In the guise you see now, I am known as Mr. Stone."
I nodded my understanding, saving my questions for later. Viggo pushed the door open and we stepped through. There was a short, wood-paneled hallway that led to an abandoned commercial space, thirty feet deep and about eighty feet wide. We came into it from one of the back corners. Other than the distant hum of traffic, it was quiet. I caught the faint smell of plaster and dust.
The glow of streetlights through the front wall of display windows made it easy enough for me to see clearly. The big room was empty except for a few pieces of broken furniture, and a row of chipped plaster support posts that ran the middle length of the open room. Just beyond the windows was a sidewalk and then wide avenue that still had some traffic, even at that late hour.
"I was wondering when you'd show up," said a female voice from across the wide space. I looked over and saw a woman I should have noticed before. From that distance and in the shadows, I couldn't make out much more than a nice figure and dark hair as she leaned against the furthest support post.
"I did not expect you to be here so early, Audra," Viggo/Mr. Stone said as he began to walk toward her. I followed a few steps behind him.
As we approached, Audra clicked on a penlight and pointed it at a recliner near her. The back of the chair was facing us until she stretched out one long leg and swiveled it. Sitting on the ripped padding of the chair were a number of cardboard boxes of different sizes. "I had some free time," she said in response. "Anyway, I got everything on your weird list. You've got the money, right?"
Viggo/Stone stopped a few paces away from Audra, which meant I was close enough to get a better look at her. Holy shit, she was gorgeous! She was of average height, with thick black hair to her shoulders, vivid green eyes, and had an athletic body and full hips under her body-hugging pullover and snug jeans. I caught my drool just in time. While Audra seemed cautious, her full lips were set in a subtle, crooked grin that almost made me groan.
While I was staring at the stunning woman, I remembered that I looked like a retarded fisherman. Okay, I had my Super Shorty on my back and my Glock in a shoulder holster, but I still felt like a dork.
In answer to Audra's question, Viggo/Stone pulled an envelope from his coat and held it out to her. When she leaned forward and snatched it from his fingertips, he said, "The other half, as agreed."
Audra opened the envelope and began to count. "It's not that I don't trust you, Stone," she said while her fingers deftly went through the bills. "It's just that I don't trust anyone."
"As would I in your situation, Audra, but I never break my word. I hoped you would have realized that by now." When she shrugged, Viggo/Stone went on to say, "I will be very disappointed if what I ordered is not in the boxes. I rely on your honor." He looked at me and pointed to the chair.
While I went around behind him to pick up as much as I could hold, Audra chuckled and said, "I don't know about honor, Stone, but I know it is bad business to cheat a good client." I stood straight with a stack of boxes in my hands and noticed her looking at me with a smirk. Without taking her eyes off me, she asked my commander, "A minion, Stone? That's a first for you. Taking him spelunking later?"
"More like scavenging. I'm sure you're familiar with the concept," he answered coolly.
"I am," she answered agreeably, "but the things I look for don't need to be blasted with a sawed-off shotgun." Audra slipped the envelope into a back pocket and casually stepped away. "It's always nice doing business with you, Stone. Call me again when you need more odds and ends. Happy hunting."
I watched that swaying ass, and the rest of Audra, push open one of the front doors and walk out of sight. "Damn," I muttered, not intending for the word to fall out of my mouth.
"Had an effect on you, did she?" Viggo asked rhetorically. "To my knowledge, Audra does not have the Gift of Enchantment, which means your reaction is truly visceral."
"Yeah, she was . . . I mean . . . Damn." I turned to him and asked, "Okay, how does that happen? Uh, I mean, being without a faction. Did she choose that for some reason?"
Viggo/Stone shook his head. "One never becomes a derelict as a matter of choice. It could have been that her sire brought her into the night and was then killed or forced to flee very soon after. Perhaps she was a member of a faction and was banished from their ranks for a severe transgression. Or, it might have been that a nomadic being turned her and moved on without offering any mentoring; the Outsider faction is known for such a tactic to test their progeny's survival instinct. In most cases, a Doyen may choose to enforce an informal bylaw of sanctioning progeny, and the sire in question did not abide."
"No shit?" I asked, surprised. "You mean that any of you in town need Le Meur's approval to do that?"
He shrugged. "It is not a core law, but any unapproved scion commonly has no rights. Nor do derelicts."
I thought for a second while my commander turned away and gazed out the windows. "So . . . Audra; she's constantly on the run?" I asked.
Still facing away from me, he nodded. I noticed that his wiry white hair was back. "Audra has more to fear than others. Still, she has adapted well, learned quickly on her own, and has proven h
erself useful."
"Is there possibly a pack of derelicts around town that help each other out? I mean, it must suck being out there on her own."
"As far as I know, she is the only derelict in this city. A great majority of her kind don't last long." When he turned back to me, I saw the Viggo I was used to - inhuman and scary as hell. "Don't dwell too much on it, Leo," he said. "Audra is ultimately a thief. I assist in her survival for no other reason than pity, and that well is beginning to run dry."
Glimpses of faded shadows began to flicker around Viggo. The conversation was going to a place that was making him edgy. When Viggo got edgy, I got nervous. "So, these boxes . . ." I said to change the subject. "I'm sorry sir, but I can't quite get all of them."
Viggo stepped over to the chair and picked up the last box, a heavy one, and cradled it under his arm. "I do believe I mentioned taking you to a more populated location," he commented, and then held his other arm open to me in invitation. "Come, we'll pass along gifts and enjoy some needed camaraderie."
I had no fucking clue what Viggo was talking about, but it sounded a hell of a lot better than trudging through more sewers. I stepped into his grasp, and then once again into the void.
UNDERGROUND
Maybe I was getting used to void-walking, or maybe it had something to do with being Viggo's minion. Either way, I was only a little dizzy and queasy when my feet found solid ground again. I couldn't see a damn thing in front of me, and I thought better of sticking my hand out into the darkness. The air was cool, clammy and stagnant. The sound of my foot moving on the hard, gritty ground made a slight echo, so I figured we were underground again.