Shadow's Messenger: An Aileen Travers Novel

by T. A. White

  I stopped gaping at the plants. She sounded very sure. Maybe she would be able to help me after all.

  “Yes. Some sorcerer claims I’m indebted to him.”

  I rolled up my sleeve and held my arm out. The lion wrapped in thorns was kind of pretty now that I’d had time to get used to it. I’d always wanted a tattoo but had never been able to figure out what I wanted. If it hadn’t been a sorcerer’s mark, I’d be tempted to keep it.

  “I don’t recognize this mark, but it’s definitely the reason you can see through the illusion. I’d wager, given the power radiating off of it, you’d be able to see through pretty much any illusion right now,” Miriam said. “

  “Guy by the name of Barret put it there.” That was the name Jerry had given me when he assigned me the job anyway.

  “Barret? That can’t be right. His mark is an Egyptian eye with a lightning bolt through it.”

  “I’m pretty sure it was Barret. I did a delivery for him, but there was a complication and I wound up with this.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Complication?”

  I gave her a smile that was more of a grimace. “Long story.”

  “I’ve got time. And more importantly, I won’t even consider helping you until I know everything.”

  I debated how much to share with her.

  “Some of it falls under the confidentiality clause. I can’t break it,” I told her.

  Jerry ensured his couriers’ discretion by making us all sign a contract with a curse attached to it. As long as we didn’t reveal the details of our jobs nothing happened. Break your promise and bad things happened. There were still whispers twenty years later about what happened to the last courier who’d broken the confidentiality clause.

  “The contract Hermes had you sign?” Miriam asked.

  I nodded. “That’s the one.”

  “If I remember correctly, all you promised was not to reveal the package contents as well as the names of the client or the person to receive the package.”

  “That sounds about right, but I can’t remember the exact language.”

  She gave me a smug smile and took a seat at the table. “That’s okay. I do. Just keep the identities and contents secret and you’ll be fine.”

  “How do you know you’re right? Were you a courier?”

  She laughed. “No, definitely not. I wouldn’t work for Gerald ever. We would have killed each other the first time he told me what to do. I wrote that contract and built the curse into it.”

  Gerald? I wasn’t even going to touch that.

  “You wrote it? You mean the current version right.”

  She gave me a Cheshire cat smile. “There’s only ever been one version.”

  Unless she’d written the thing when she was like seven that would mean she was much older than she looked. Her comments the last time I was here made a lot more sense now.

  “Okay, so I wasn’t able to deliver the package because its recipient was already dead when I got there,” I told her, picking each word carefully. I didn’t want to accidently invoke the curse. “The guy’s friends happened on me before I could leave and thought I was the killer. They took the package and my phone. I managed to escape but left the package behind.”

  The next part was tricky. I couldn’t say Barret was the guy who hired me. How did I tell her what led to the tattoo without revealing too much?

  “And?”

  “I’m getting to that. This is harder than it sounds. Everything’s wrapped up together, and I don’t know how sensitive the curse is.”

  I’d already mentioned Barret’s name and that hadn’t set anything off. It had been out of context, which is probably the only thing that saved me.

  “Okay, so anyway, the client showed up wanting to know why their package wasn’t delivered. He wasn’t happy to hear that not only was the recipient dead but his package had been left behind. He had the sorcerer put the mark on me and that leads to now.”

  Her gaze was enigmatic as she considered me. “Something tells me you’re leaving a lot out.”

  Got that right. I was hoping the vaguer I was the less likely I was to get whammied.

  She tapped one finger against her lips. “For a sorcerer to place a mark, you would have needed to agree to it.”

  “That’s what I don’t get. All I said was I’d help him. There was no agreeing to terms. No shaking of hands or signing of contracts”

  She gave me a scathing look. “You never make an open ended agreement with anyone belonging to the shadow world. By saying you’d help him without any qualifiers, you gave him an open ended contract. You handed him the keys to your life. How could you be so stupid?”

  “How am I supposed to know any of this? I haven’t exactly had anyone giving me helpful pointers. I’m figuring this shit out as I go along.”

  “This is why vampires are taken into a clan for the first hundred years. So they can be taught what they need to know. You’ve been around us long enough to know better. Gerald at the very least should have taught you better.”

  He hadn’t. At least not that I could remember.

  Her words made me feel dumber than when my Drill Sergeant made me feel an inch high for getting sun poisoning because I didn’t put on sun screen. The military has no sympathy for preventable injuries.

  “I did the best I could considering he was torturing me at the time. Can you help me or not?”

  “I can’t. The sorcerer who put it there is too powerful. Nothing I could do would remove it. I wouldn’t anyway. Its bad form to interfere once the agreement is struck. You have to fulfill your part or forfeit the penalty.”

  I had a feeling that would be the answer. At least Miriam looked regretful she couldn’t help me.

  “Fine. That’s not the only reason I came here. The sorcerer gave me a task, and I need to get a witch’s perspective on something.” I looked around the room. “Judging by what’s in here I came to the right place.”

  The illusion she constructed was pretty thorough. In addition to hiding any sign of the jungle she had in here, it had wiped away all traces of smell. With it gone, the scent of dirt and growing things saturated the air. I inhaled. Jasmine. How did I miss all of this before?

  “How so?” Miriam asked.

  From the cast iron pot decorated with a trio of elephants sitting next to her, she poured a cup of tea. She didn’t ask if I’d like one.

  “If someone wanted to completely mask a scent, how would they go about doing it? And by completely, I mean a werewolf would be able to walk right by an area that smells like a butcher shop five minutes later and not smell a thing.”

  “That is oddly specific.” She took a sip of her tea. “Would this illusion involve sight as well?”

  I thought about it a moment. Nothing had appeared amiss in the alley either of the times I’d been in it. That didn’t mean anything, though. I could have very easily missed something.

  “Illusions are tricky and easily broken,” Miriam said. “It’s especially hard to trick all of the senses. The stronger the sense, the harder it is to fool. A werewolf’s nose is extremely sensitive. One could have walked into this shop and sniffed out my garden in moments. This illusion wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

  “So because my olfactory sense isn’t as strong, the illusion held up against me,” I said following her logic.

  “Yes. Theoretically, it should be easier to fool one sense, for instance smell, but in reality most witches couldn’t manage it.”

  “Could you?” I asked.

  She inclined her head.

  “I could but it would take me weeks of preparation. If you don’t mind me asking, how are you sure that smell was the sense targeted if your hypothetical werewolf missed it.”

  “Hypothetically, I walked through an area and smelled it, but when the werewolves moved through ten minutes later, all trace of the odor was gone. By your reasoning, that scenario should be impossible, shouldn’t it? Since my sense of smell is so much weaker?”

&nbs
p; Miriam’s face was thoughtful as she tapped one finger against her mug.

  “Castings take time to take hold. You may have wandered through the target area in the brief span between whatever created the smell and the casting.”

  That was pretty much the conclusion I’d come to.

  “How many people in the city could make a casting of that complexity?”

  Miriam’s focus turned inward as she considered.

  “Hm. That is a difficult question and the answer is rather imprecise.”

  “Just give me a ballpark.”

  An answer would at least give me a place to start.

  “All of the sorcerers, of course. Some of the high ranking members of the coven. I’d guess a few of the independents as well. You also have to consider a witch working in partnership with another. I’d say maybe fifteen.”

  Fifteen? That was too many. It would take forever to narrow it down from there. Still, it was the only clue I had. I figured if I found the person who made the smell dampening spell I’d be able to follow them to the culprit. I do that and my sorcerer problem goes away.

  “I don’t suppose you’d give me the names of those fifteen?”

  Miriam gave me another enigmatic smile. “For a price.”

  Great. Another deal. The last one had gotten me into enough trouble.

  “What’s your price?” I asked. This was a bad idea, but I was between a rock and a hard place. I could walk away, but I’d be back to square one. I had video from the security feeds, but there was no guarantee anything was on it.

  “This isn’t me agreeing to the price,” I clarified, quickly. I had learned something since my last interaction with a sorcerer. “I’m just trying to understand the terms.”

  “Very good. Maybe you’re capable of surviving in this world after all.” Miriam gestured for me to take a seat beside her. I took the chair and hoped this price was something I could give.

  “If I do this, you will owe me a favor to be called upon at a time and place of my choosing.”

  That was too open ended. I’d read the original Grimm Fairy Tales when I was a child. Not those Disney approved ones that always had happy endings, but the twisted, violent ones. Any time someone agreed to an open ended favor things always went sideways for them. She could demand I carve out my heart or give her my sister’s first born child, and by the terms of the agreement, I’d have to comply.

  “No, that’s too vague.”

  She inclined her head and smiled. Another test. Miriam seemed content to help me, but equally happy to take advantage of my naivety to trick me into agreeing to something that would benefit her and bite me in the ass. It made her both trustworthy and not. I’d have to be on my guard to not be lulled in by her helpfulness.

  She was not a potential friend or even an ally against a common enemy. This was a transaction. Plain and simple.

  “One favor, to be called before Jan 1.”

  “One favor, to be called in the next 30 days. It can’t involve a crime, the death of anybody I know, including myself, dismemberment or anything that involves souls or demons.”

  I remembered her insinuation about using me as ingredients for some of her spells. I had no idea if witches actually trafficked in souls or demons but thought it best to protect myself from even unlikely scenarios.

  “How specific,” Miriam said. “I see you’ve been reading some of the Urban Fantasy novels mortals write about us.”

  I shrugged. There may have been a few movies in there too. It’s how I conducted most of my research. There was usually a grain of truth in even the most fantastical of tales.

  “Very well. No ingredients, murders, dismemberment, souls or demons. Do we have a deal?”

  I paused. Did I really want to do this? I barely knew Miriam. It was highly likely that what she asked of me would be something I could not easily give.

  “The favor cannot be called in until after I finish my task for the sorcerer, but yes, we have a deal.” I needed help. One thing at a time. I’d worry about what I owed when I got out of my current predicament.

  “Wonderful. I’ll get a pen and paper.”

  Miriam stood and walked over to an antique desk hidden behind several potted ferns. She pulled out a notepad and scribbled on it.

  What favor could a witch ask of a vampire? I wasn’t equipped to do magic and being practically an infant in this world meant I had almost no power. Just strength and healing slightly above that of a human’s. Not much for a witch as old as she said she was.

  This was such a bad idea. Too late to back out now. The deal had already been struck and judging by the itchy sensation on my bicep, I had a feeling I had a mark to show for it.

  I touched the area lightly. It was high enough on the arm that I would have to pull my long sleeved shirt off. I’d have to wait to see what her magic had inscribed in my skin.

  She stopped in front of me, looking down with a guarded expression. I waited, wondering if she’d follow through on her end. It would be hard to hand over names of people you’ve known for years to a person you’d just met. Part of me hoped she’d back out. It would free me up from the favor hanging like an albatross from my neck.

  “Some of these names are friends of mine,” she told me, setting the paper on the table but keeping her hand on it. I’d assumed as much. “We’re a very secretive people. Events of the past have taught us the value of keeping the extent of our abilities hidden from those who mean us harm. I am trusting you will use this information in the way it’s intended and not for some other vendetta you or another may have.”

  I looked at the folded piece of paper. I couldn’t speak for the sorcerer, but for my part I only intended to find the witch who cast the spell. After that, I had no use for the rest of the names.

  I slid the paper towards me. “I understand. As long as the one who cast the spell means no harm to me, I will not bring harm to him or her. The rest of them don’t matter to me.”

  “Good.”

  What remained unsaid was that there would be terrible repercussions if I abused this information or if harm came to the innocent as a result of my having these names.

  Now that the first part of my plan had been met, I asked, “I don’t suppose I could borrow your computer.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have a computer here, and I’m unwilling to extend further help without renegotiating our terms.”

  Ah. Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. It would be easy enough to find a computer to use. I had no need to dig myself further into this hole.

  “Thanks for your help,” I told her.

  The breeze was cool against my face when I stepped out of Elements. I pulled my jacket around me by reflex. The cold didn’t feel as cold these days, but it was hard to conquer the habits of a lifetime. I still felt the change in temperature even if it didn’t affect me as it once did. Or maybe it just wasn’t as big a deal as it had been before my transition. I used to hole up and hibernate as soon as fall turned cold. Now I could get by with a long sleeved shirt if I didn’t care what normal would think of me.

  The moon was nearly full and hung low and large in the sky. Stars winked in the night, more than I’d ever seen as a human.

  My feet whispered over the pavement, crunching fallen leaves as I headed back to Cherry.

  A hand suddenly gripped my arm, spinning me around. I gaped up at Brax’s angry face. How did he find me?

  “We need to talk, vampire,” he rumbled.

  I grimaced. I’d really prefer not to.

  “How did you find me?”

  “One of my pack saw you slipping out the back after we confronted the vampires in their club. I put it together from there.”

  Of course he had.

  “I do have to thank you for distracting them and giving me time to escape.”

  His hand tightened, squeezing my arm painfully as he gave a small shake. “You lied to me. You’re not from Hermes. You’re part of the Davinish clan.”

  I reached for his hand, dig
ging my fingers into his thumb and jerked, twisting my arm out of his grip at the same time. Military combative training had taught me a thing or two about escaping holds. The thumb was the weakest part of a grip and easier to break if you had surprise and leverage on your side. Even super strength had its weaknesses.

  Free, I rubbed my arm and took two steps away.

  “I didn’t lie to you. I do work for Jerry and Hermes.”

  “Vampires don’t let their yearlings work for people outside the clan, and you’re so young you still smell human.”

  “What do vampires smell like?” I couldn’t help but ask, wanting to know if the smell was different for werewolves. I hadn’t noticed anything when I was at their club, and my nose was rather sensitive. Not as sensitive as a werewolf’s but way better than when I was human.

  I waved my question away. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You could consider me an illegal alien. I’m not part of any of the clans.”

  His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t make any move to attack, instead seeming to settle. He was still alert and stood perfectly balanced, ready to move at a moment’s notice. I had no doubt if I attempted to run he would chase me down like a lion would a gazelle. It was not a comforting thought.

  “That shouldn’t be possible. For all that they’re arrogant pricks, they wouldn’t turn someone and then abandon them.”

  I smirked. “Guess I’m special then. Lucky me. Woke up in a morgue and had to figure everything else out by myself.” I thought about it. “Well, myself and a few helpful individuals.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t really care if you believe me. You can call Jerry, and he’ll confirm it.”

  “I plan to, but for now, you’re coming with me.”

  I backed up as he started towards me. I really didn’t have time to be put back in his basement cage.

  He blurred as he raced forwards. I dove out of the way, rolled and popped back up to my feet. He crashed into me taking me back to the ground. I grunted as I landed, his weight coming down on top of me and pinning my legs.

  I twisted, using my legs to tilt my pelvis up so I could roll him off me. He collapsed his upper body onto mine, making it impossible to get the leverage I needed. The guy was strong, and it had been a couple of years since I’d last tried this move.