by M. P. Reeves
“What is that supposed to mean?” Although he did not get the insult, he still seemed to grasp that it was one.
“Come on ladies, you can bicker over purses later.” Erik spoke in an Australian accent. “We have a flight to catch.”
"I'm not a bird." Carrick thought he heard Quin grumble under his breath as he turned towards his uncle. “Booked one already?” The shining white grin he got back gave him the answer.
On the ferry ride of the island Erik told the three young druids about a lady who went by Mimi. A whisperer who lived in London and handled a lot of the logistics for the Níomair. Erik explained while she was a bit eccentric, she was the best at what she did. Passports, IDs, you name it. Anything at a moment’s notice. When Erik said it was worth the price, Carrick didn’t immediately understand what he meant. That was, until they got to the airport.
Even in emergency situations Erik apparently traveled in style. Waiting in the hanger was a private jet, and not just any but a Gulfstream IV. Known for its long range abilities and short flight times, the fifteen million dollar plane held a roomy interior that made Carrick’s last first class trip seem like ten hours on a school bus bench.
Despite the luxury, Carrick couldn’t relax at all during the flight. The unknowns in their destination combined with the unreadable constant stare from Quin’s wolf had his stomach in knots. The beast rarely took his eyes off of him from the time they took off till the time they landed. The only break Carrick got from his judgmental gaze was when Quin fed him.
Starless as Quin called him ate five 72 ounce raw steaks over the flight. If that wasn’t intimidating, Carrick didn’t know what was. Still despite his trepidations, there was something to be respected in the thick rolling muscles and smooth stance of the wolf. Carrick found himself wondering what affinity he would have. Skyborn like his uncle or Fang like his friends.
He realized he had yet to ask his uncle what his father was.
“It’s been almost eleven hours since we lost contact with the outpost at this point. They’ve been working as environmental surveyors, trying to prevent some particularly nasty deforesting and fracking operations.” Erik announced into the quiet plane.
“Fracking?” Carrick asked. “What is that?”
“Hydraulic fracturing, or “fracking”, is the process of drilling and injecting fluid into the ground at a high pressure in order to fracture shale rocks to release natural gas. It’s a nasty process that uses approximately 40,000 gallons of chemicals per frack.”
“Lead, Uranium, Mercury...” Quin chimed in.
“They push those chemicals into the ground to release the gas. Obviously, during this process some of those chemicals leach out and contaminate nearby groundwater. Others invade the air.”
“Sounds so stupid.” Carrick couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to do that.
“Tell it to your humans.” Quin sneered at him.
The half druid threw his arms up in frustration. “They’re not mine! It’s not like I freaking own them.”
“Shut it.” Erik snapped, pointing at the cabin window. “We’re landing.”
There was a black stretch Lincoln waiting for them. The driver an animated man who incorrectly believed he was transporting some musician. A deduction likely from the luxury of the plane and the ratio of suits to casual wear. Through polite denials, Erik gave the man an address and they piled in the vehicle.
The air was an invisible tourniquet around Carrick’s throat as they drove through Los Angles. The gentle buzz he had become so accustomed to within Dre’ien was completely gone here, the absence of the white noise feeling making him uneasy.
After a twenty minute car ride, Erik tapped the switch to lower the glass partition, in a polite voice he instructed the driver to stop.
It was a brick multi story office building in the outskirts of downtown. The sign in the parking lot had slots for several businesses; A real estate venture, a law firm, a therapist, some accounting place, then several agencies whose names were too vague to tell their practice. The place looked absolutely dead, the sign was illuminated as was the single light above the double doors out front. No cars were parked along the street in front of the building.
“Looks normal.” Carrick offered.
“Since the presence of blight was detected we have to assume things are far from normal. Look at the bushes.” The shrubs on either side of the front double doors were slightly wilted, their leaves drooping and brown along the edges.
“They could use some water.”
“No, that’s energy drain.” Conall sneered, “Fell druids work two fold; Extracting from nature and manmade technology.”
“Quin you take Carrick round back. Conall, we’re going in the front door.”
With a nod to his uncle, he followed the darkly clothed druid down the street. They made a wide path around to the back of the building, going a full block down before crossing the street and cutting through an alleyway.
“Starless. Scout.” The wolf let out a soft grumble then took off down the street.
“Nice name.” The druid didn’t take the compliment. Instead Quin just rolled his eyes and kept walking down the street towards the back of their target building.
“Come on, this way.” Hooking a right around the building the pair navigated a dimly lit service drive to the back of the building. Where they were greeted with a sparsely furnished designated smoking area, complete with handfuls of cigarette butts that had not been properly placed in the blue receptacles, and a steel door with a keycard reader.
“Aren’t you worried about security alarms at this hour?”
“Don’t be daft.” Quin chastised him. “The system has been disabled since we lost contact.”
“Great.” Carrick yanked on the handle, they’d have to find some way to jimmy open the door and
Quin placed a palm over the locking mechanism. With a quick pop and a hiss, there was the sound of metal releasing.
“How did-” Carrick started, but immediately shut his trap at the dark druid’s superior smug expression. Even in his hoodie and baggy jeans he made Carrick feel inferior.
Quin took the lead, creeping down the minimalist decorated hallway outside of the stairwell. Rounding the corner past the bathrooms they came upon a courtyard. The inner of the building was far more impressive than its cheap brick exterior. Metal and black lacquer finishes attempted to give a sleek impression to the dated office complex that was probably built in the days of shag carpet and avocado green. The open foyer design had a shopping mall feel to it. Complete with a fountain and a view up to the second and third floor landings.
The pair hugged the wall, walking quietly in the dark night around the edge of the ground floor. The sloshing of the fountain, while unnervingly tranquil, seemed to hide the patter of their feet on the marble.
Quin paused by the door marked Ashton Consulting Firm, holding up a finger to his mouth for Carrick to remain quiet. Taking a small stone from his pocket, he rolled it around briefly in his palm until it began to glow a soft red.
Something hit the wall inches from Carrick’s head, plaster raining down on him in artificial fog.
Quin cursed, grabbing Carrick’s shirt. “Get down!”
Another silenced round hit behind him. “Inside, move!” He shouted at him over the sound of crumbling plaster and tile from the barrage of bullets.
Heart racing Carrick found his feet were unable to comply, the druid of the fang practically threw him into the consulting firm’s door. Unable to catch his footing, Carrick landed on his stomach face first in the carpet. His extended left hand in something wet, a metallic scent filled his nose.
Blood?
Scrambling to his feet his eyes traced the source to the body of a middle aged man who had been shot twice in the chest.
Carrick had never seen a dead body before.
Despite the chaos going on behind him, the gunfire hitting the door and the muffled yelling coming from Quin, all he could do was st
and there and stare into the lifeless eyes of the man behind the desk.
The next thing he felt was the sharp sting on his cheek. Erik was staring down at him, looking annoyed.
“Pay attention Carrick.”
“Erik? Where did...?” Did he just slap me?
“Took care of the three man team out front. No fell, just humans.” Conall chimed in, wiping blood off one of his daggers with a rag he had found who knows where. The blond was leaning up against the reception desk by the front door.
“Our men are all dead.” Quin announced, coming out of a backroom. Carrick hadn’t even realized he left the room.
Nor had he noticed the cease of gunfire.
Is this what shock was like?
“We don’t have long.” Erik announced. “This place needs cleaned and searched. I want to know what they were after.”
“What makes you certain they were after more than just our deaths?” Conall asked.
“Drawers have been opened, computers are on. This operation was not a quiet one, firm has been extremely vocal for decades; lobbying, protests, legislature with any senator we can swing. Something must have caused them to come rattle our cage. I want to know what it was. Especially if fell are involved.” Erik walked over to the dead druid behind the desk, taking a small pouch from his pocket he leaned over the body. Mouth moving with inaudible words, he sprinkled some sort of seed mixture on the forehead of the dead man, closing his eyes.
Not wanting to dwell further on the corpse, Carrick wandered around the office. There were four desks in the front room behind reception and a corner office in the back. Quin had elected to search the office, Conall was meandering around between the desks opening drawers and poking at keyboards as though the keys were live snakes.
“Where they still in here when you showed up?” Carrick asked Conall as he walked up to the cherry wood desk closest to the back window.
“Aye, when you two entered from the back, they exited the firm and took positions a floor up. The humans were so preoccupied with showering bullets upon you they never saw us coming.” Conall huffed sounding disappointed. “So much for professionals.”
Carrick pulled out the expensive looking black leather chair and took a seat in front of the wide screen computer. “Not enough of a challenge?” Carrick asked playfully while he digested that little bit of information. If this was a professional team on a mission to retrieve data, they wouldn’t just hang out and have a coffee after the objective was completed. No. They would have come in quiet like, shot everyone, grabbed what they needed and split.
Unless they had grabbed whatever it was they were after and just left a team behind to collect whomever came looking when these druids didn’t report in.
Frustrated, he slapped the spacebar, bringing the machine out of sleep mode and to a login prompt. Two familiar letters flashed on the screen under a logo for Ashton Consulting.
Enter Password:
Not the words he wanted to see. Carrick was the farthest thing from a hacker. He could fix the Wi-Fi, install a printer driver and on a good day get a basic program for his introduction to computing class to compile correctly. A class he had narrowly escaped with a B having wished all semester he had taken photography instead and a vow to avoid a programming career. Now here he was, grateful to remember what Mr. Nelson had said about passwords. There were three kinds; Random, assigned and personal. From what he knew of druids they were too calculating to be random, despised technology too much to invoke any sort of database driven employee id system. That left only something personal.
Carrick’s eyes flicked up, Conall was still ranting about how poorly trained human hit men were while going through some file cabinet by the front desk.
Enter Password: Awen
Holding his breath, he hit the enter key.
Enter Password: Awen
Password Incorrect
Carrick cursed under his breath. There were no personal effects on the desk, nothing to give him an indication of whomever had sit here’s interests. So it was time to guess. He tried Dre’ien, Druid, Tree, and Nature...all with the same result. Crap. What could be most important to a druid?
“Hey Conall, where are these guys familiars?” Carrick asked. It had to be a birds name or a wolf...
“Not that affinity.” That gave him his answer.
Enter Password: Whisperer
The screen flashed to a desktop background of Stonehenge. Cute. Carrick immediately went to the recent files, pulled up a browser and started looking at history. Went through the guys download folder. A lot of it was just usual corporate stuff, emails, invoices, pictures of cats…
“Erik.” He called out, looking in the last known location of his uncle. The body that had been on the ground was no longer there, in its place was a small mound of dirt and a few blooms. The druid had returned to the earth from which he came. There was something comforting although morbid in that full circle.
“What?” He came out of the back room with Quin who was wearing his perpetual frown.
“Have you heard of Stergen Industries? There’s a whole lot of docs saved on this PC about that company. Drilling permits, press releases, employee names. Looks like one of the last internet searches was on a questionable environmental release for an offshore drilling op off the coast of Madagascar.”
“I found a petition with that company name,” Quin chimed in. “Ashton was trying to persuade the US government to file some sort of complaint against them as their corporate headquarters is in the states.”
“That’s business as usual for these folks.” Erik dismissed them both with a shake of his head.
The soft hum of the fluorescent bulbs overhead ceased, bathing them in darkness. With the soft trickle of the fountain from the courtyard gone, the sound of footfalls approaching echoed in the three story space.
“Looks like we have company brothers.” Even in the darkness, Carrick was certain Conall was smiling.
“Carrick stay close to Quin.” Erik hissed at him.
As one the druids exited the shop, forming a combat line in front of the consulting firm.
In the quiet of the space, an unsettling feeling grew in Carrick’s stomach with each echoing footfall. A dark irrational fear that made his heart pound in his chest, an unexplainable notion that had sweat dripping down his brow.
Quin cursed under his breath, “fell…”
What approached from beyond the fountain were three men that looked fresh out of a euro techno club. While the druids he had grown accustomed to wear the colors of the earth and natural materials their fallen counterparts liked bold colors, metal and vinyl. Of the three the one in the center was clearly in charge, walking slightly in front of the other two his eyes hidden by glasses beneath a thick brow. In a rolled tongue he spoke in neither Druidic nor English. It seemed to be more of an Aramaic derivative, the sharp unknown commands brought the smaller cloaked ones behind him to the front.
From beneath their cowls, hollow cheeked faces sneered at them, pierced lips peeling back from blackened teeth. In tandem their mouths opened wide till their jaws cracked, black smoke pouring from their maws, filling the air with the putrid scent of decay.
“Down!” Erik shouted.
Carrick’s palms had barely touched the cold marble when the wall behind them burned and buckled. The black smoke had eaten through the plaster like acid, decimating everything it touched.
With a wave of his hand, Erik brought a gust of wind through the lobby, sending the aroma of death far from them. The black mist coiled and turned into itself, coating the fountain in the center of the courtyard in a haze before dissipating.
In its wake was Conall.
The young druid volleyed between the two fell, his daggers flying. His steel penetrated the left one’s shoulder, a wave of fresh blood splashing on the ground beneath their feet. The fell cried out in pain in a wail more mechanical than man, like the screech of a tire on hot pavement.
The one in the center backed u
p, apparently wanting to watch rather than participate.
He didn’t get far.
Starless crashed through the front window, a growl rolling past his gleaming white fangs that shook the floor.
The wolf grabbed the fell by the throat, pulling him to the ground. Erik had taken advantage of the distraction to rush the right fell, the sharpness of his drawn steel only a fraction of the intimidation inflicted by the dark rage in his eyes. His uncles first contact blow knocked the fallen one off his feet. Then his attention turned toward the leader who had managed to untangle himself from starless.
In a move that churned Carrick’s stomach, the fell who had been thrown to the ground pivoted on his back bending his feet and palms to support his weight at inhuman angles. The guy-no, creature-spidered toward Erik’s feet, grabbing his ankle with a backwards hand.
Carrick cried out in worry, his dagger drawn he started forward, but a thick arm cut in front of his chest. “Over there!” Quin tugged on his shoulder. Pushing Carrick behind him he tugged him down the hallway, away from the combat.
A flash of light blocked Carrick’s vision from the action. Worry for his fellow druids flooded over him as he was shoved further and further from harm.
“Quick through there.” Quin shoved him towards a door. Carrick complied, pushing through the steel.
Into the cool nights air.
He was in the alleyway standing among the dimly lit crates and no parking signs. Steam seemed to roll up from the sewer crates, putting a damp haze bright graffiti that decorated the trash bins.
Looking in both directions he found no immediate threat. The back of the alley was empty from what he could tell, his vision hindered at a distance by the combination of fog and broken light fixtures.
Turning around he yanked on the metal handle only to find it securely locked. Hitting the thing with his fist he cursed Quin. The guy had probably always planned on ditching him the first chance he got. Now they were all inside, fighting for their lives and he was ejected to the alley like some sort of child in time out.