Stay in the shadows as much as possible and you may have a chance. I can’t afford to lose either of you.
“Now, I don’t want to hear another word about this,” he said after we’d finished reading his note. “Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Reaper and I replied in unison.
“Good.”
He then scribbled out something else.
Good luck.
Chapter 10
We took the tubes to the city center nearest the fae faction, being careful to converse via an encrypted direct connection.
Speaking aloud would only draw the attention from others on the tram, and I was always leery to use a non-encrypted channel when something was this important. While nobody was supposed to listen in or record any private conversations that were held via the connectors, I would bet that people did. Call me a conspiracy theorist if you want, but I believed the powers-that-be did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, and however they wanted…using the justification that their actions were for the greater good.
Riiight.
Each race-specific area was essentially a small city connected to the larger central city. Some had gates and walls, others used fencing, the mages used spells, and some were left wide open, almost inviting trouble. Faeland, as I liked to call it, went with walls and a gated entrance.
“What’s the plan?” asked Reaper, bringing my mind back to the present.
I gave him a concerned look. “Uh…sneak into the area, find Brazen and Kix, and get them out of there.”
“I know that, Piper,” he replied with a look. “But isn’t there something specific?”
“There really isn’t.”
I’d learned long ago that planning left you blocked for improvisation, especially when you were dealing with noobs on the force. Reaper was good, yes, but he was still green. To be fair, down here I was pretty green myself. I knew topside like the back of my hand, including how to deal with the people who lived there. But this was a completely different ball of wax.
We weren’t supposed to be going into race-specific areas down here. The chief was clear about that. It was in the Netherworld rules. Retrievers were topside; there were PPD precincts topside to deal with supers living there, but Netherworld cops dealt with Netherworld issues. While the standard Netherworld police was allowed topside under special circumstances, such as training or if they would be instrumental in catching a particular criminal, the same courtesy was not easily leant to Retrievers. It did happen from time to time, but it took a fair bit of paperwork and approvals. These rules were in place because Netherworld officers had to go through faction retraining and qualifiers every six months. They had to pass tests and everything. All cops who passed these tests were granted access as long as they either followed the rules or had a warrant and followed the rules. As the chief had noted, Retrievers didn’t have this training requirement and so we weren’t allowed in.
“Piper,” Reaper said in a monotone voice as the tram began to slow, “I would truly feel much better if we had a plan.”
I rolled my eyes at him and groaned.
“What would a plan buy us, Reap?” I asked incredulously. “We’ll create it, start enacting it, and then find out that we’ve managed to get hemmed in by it. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think that keeping to a plan if we get stuck in a corner is going to work.”
“I see your point,” he said after a moment, “but going by the seat of our pants—I hope I’m using that in the proper context—may result in our being unprepared for whatever may come.”
“By the very fact that your statement denotes we have no idea what may come, how would you suggest we plan for it?” I countered and then nodded at him. “And you used that phrase properly, by the way.”
The tram stopped and the doors opened.
People began pouring out into the underground level of the subway as others waited to get inside.
The place was rather nondescript. It had beige tiled walls with matching floors. Aside from the Diamond District, it was one of the cleaner stops I’d seen. There were two escalators on either side of the large space, both with up and down options. There were also stairs running alongside the escalators, and an elevator sat near the back in the center of the space.
Bodies were pulsing through the underbelly of the city like blood through veins. Faces were staring at smart phones and tablets for the most part, but those who weren’t tethered to their electronic leashes kept their gazes straight forward. Now and then a vampire would give us a haughty look, but that was to be expected.
“I assumed we’d see more fae here,” Reaper said.
“Just because we’re nearest the fae area, we’re still in the city center,” I replied. “The actual fae faction is about a mile from here.”
“Right,” he said, looking frustrated. “I actually knew that, but…” He trailed off.
Reaper had spent the majority of his career in the Netherworld working in the records room of the Paranormal Police Department. He’d never been a beat cop, having bypassed that training due to his special skills, life experience, and ability to use an advanced tattoo system that Pecker had set up for him. So he had no real street knowledge of the area, and he’d obviously been smart enough to know better than to leave the city center in all his years down here.
“It’s okay, Reap,” I said, feeling like I needed to say something. “I’m edgy, too. Just remember that we’re both immortal and that we both have skills that the fae don’t know about.”
“I suppose so.”
“I know so,” I avowed. “We’ll be just fine…I hope.”
We got to the top of the escalator and moved outside.
There were more fae in this area than other races, but that was only because of how close we were to their race-specific area.
“Notice anything odd, Reap?” I asked while scanning around.
“No rioting.”
“Exactly.”
“What do you think that means?” he asked.
“You tell me, Reap,” I answered. “Why would this area not be seeing the same level of turbulence as the others?”
“Because our assessment of the situation was correct. The fae are responsible for what’s going on down here.”
“Yep.”
“Then again,” he added, “we don’t know if any of the other areas have been as unaffected as this one.”
“That’s true,” I agreed, “but something tells me any of those places not already dealing with riots right now will be soon.”
After one last look around, I strode purposefully toward Faeland.
Chapter 11
We could see the guards at the gate, but they couldn’t see us. That’s because we picked a spot behind a tall hedge and were peeking around it.
“I’m assuming you’re not planning to walk up and ask if Brazen and Kix are in there,” Reaper whispered. Then he looked at me with a concerned expression. “You’re not going to do that, right?”
I squinted at him. “No.”
There had to be another way in besides the front gate. I’d often heard that the different factions had secret entrances—or exits, depending on your perspective. Apparently this had to do with needing a way in or out in the event of a large-scale attack. No doubt those access points, if they existed, would be protected by runes, but I’d be able to see those. I couldn’t bypass them, other than via brute force, but spotting them was half the problem.
“Pecker,” I said through the connector as an idea struck, “I don’t suppose you know of any fae who are PPD-friendly?”
“I know a couple who say they are, Piper,” he replied, “but it’s difficult to tell. Why, what’s up?”
“We need to get into Faeland, but we don’t want to go through the front gate.”
“Ah,” he said and then there was a pause. “I doubt you’ll find any fae to help with that, but…” Another pause. Clearly he was working on something. “There are a ton of records in the databases her
e regarding various tidbits of information for each faction.”
“Including entryways?” asked Reaper.
“It includes everything,” answered Pecker, “assuming it’s been entered into the system, of course. That’s going to be the trick. Give me a sec.”
As Pecker started digging around for information on Faeland, I dragged Reaper away from our position overlooking the main gate and started walking the perimeter.
The high wall stayed to our right, and I made sure to keep far enough away from it so as not to draw the ire of any fae, while staying close enough to give me the ability to seek out runes. We’d barely made it one hundred steps before I saw a distortion by the wall.
It was a hidden zone. I couldn’t see past those zones, but I was able to detect their presence. Again, this was one of those special skills that I’d shared with my now deceased parents. I didn’t know what it was about our particular genetic makeup, but being a normal who could see supers, spot runes, and detect null and hidden zones had made us targets on Keller’s hit list many years ago. My parents didn’t survive. I did, but only because of my immortality…at least that was my guess.
So I couldn’t say what was behind that zone, but I knew it was there. If I had to make a guess, I’d bet on an entryway, likely covered with detection runes.
My first thought was to boldly step through and see what was on the other side. But a quick glance up told me there were cameras all over the place. Whether or not anyone was manning them, I couldn’t say, but they did seem to be following me and Reaper as we continued our stroll.
“Could we not request the aid of a wizard on the force?” asked Reaper aloud. “I’ve heard a few names discussed over my years on the force. Elsa Jones, Willis Argent, and Timothy Methkins are usually available for freelance work.”
Only because they were all nearly impossible to manage. The solid wizards got snapped up quickly, leaving these three to those who either had lower-profile cases or who were still bottom feeders on the force.
Jones hated working with other women, or maybe it was just me. The last time we got paired up, we nearly killed each other. Well, technically, I nearly killed her, but she got in a few decent scratches before it was all said and done.
Argent was renowned for his ability to create amazing fireworks shows, but he was essentially pointless in police work. Great for distractions, though.
Methkins also had a reputation that put him on the only-if-I-have-no-other-options list. He was nice enough, but where most wizards were scatterbrained, this guy was on an entirely different level. It was so bad, in fact, that most cops just called him “Meth.”
I knew the guy, but he was the only one of the three that I’d not yet worked beside, so I couldn’t say how he’d perform professionally. On reputation alone, I’d probably kill him before the day was through.
Still, I’d rather risk him than another bout with Elsa, and Argent would be so flamboyant that we’d be spotted almost instantly.
“I got nothing here, Piper,” Pecker announced after a few minutes. “There are a few places mentioned for vampires, werewolves, and djinn, but nothing on the fae. They’re pretty close-lipped, though.”
“All right,” I said with a sigh. “Thanks for checking.”
“No problem, baby,” he purred, causing me to gag. “Oh, by the way, Reap,” Pecker said, changing topics, “Agnes is doing great. She helped me figure out one of the algorithms I’ve been struggling with for the last few months.”
“That’s nice to hear,” Reaper said, looking proud. “I am ever in awe regarding her abilities. There are many things she’s capable of, but nobody would ever know it since they just see her as nothing but a turtle.” He chuckled lightly. “She is rather clever, though.”
“I’ll say. Listen, you can feel free to bring her into the office every day, if you want. I could certainly use the help.”
Reaper was beaming now.
“I’ll talk to the chief about it,” he said. “Thanks for watching her, Pecker.”
“Not a problem. Later.”
I wanted to broach the subject of how silly it was that a turtle was capable of solving math puzzles, but seeing that she was telepathic, too, I really didn’t have much to stand on. Maybe I was just jealous because I’d never had a pet that did more than eat, shit, and sleep. Add “have sex” to that list and it’d describe nearly every boyfriend I’d had prior to going with my one-night-stands-only rule.
“Do me a favor and see if you can get Meth down here, Reap,” I said. “I’m going to keep focused on spotting zones.”
“Meth?”
“Methkins,” I clarified.
“Ah.”
Chapter 12
Methkins arrived twenty minutes later, just after I’d completed finding all the sections I suspected would allow us sneaky access into Faeland.
The guy was short by wizard standards, coming in around shoulder height to me. His face was covered in a slurry of pockmarks that showed the history of his adolescent battle with acne. There was no beard or mustache, but he did appear to be in need of a shave. He had a unibrow that sat over the most brilliant green eyes I’d ever seen. Instead of wearing a robe and pointed hat like a lot of wizards, Methkins had on jeans and an Iron Maiden T-shirt, and he was so thin that I imagined he’d have to run around in the shower just to get wet.
It was all of this, and his inability to stay focused on anything for more than ten seconds, that garnered him the nickname “Meth.”
“Hey, guys,” he said in a stoner sort of way. “How’s it hangin’?”
“How is what hanging?” asked Reaper while looking over his own body.
“Everything is fine,” I said before Meth could answer the question. It’d just start a discussion that we didn’t have time for at the moment. “I’ve spotted a number of potential access points down here,” I added, pointing at the wall, “but I need someone who can disable runes as needed.” I gave Methkins a tight look. “Can you do that for us?”
“Sure, man,” he said, nodding as he scanned the area. “They got them hotdog trucks on this side? I gotta get my food on.”
I blinked at him and crossed my arms.
“Uh-oh,” he said, giving me the once-over. “You pissed or something?”
“I didn’t bring you down here to eat hotdogs, Meth,” I asserted, wondering if he could even get a hotdog down anyway. “We have a couple of officers who have been captured. Each minute that goes by is a minute that they could be getting tortured…or worse.”
“Worse?” he said with his eyebrows up. “You mean like they might be making them wait to eat or somethin’?”
I went to take a step toward the little twerp, but Reaper must have realized I was getting wound up. He stepped in the way and pulled Methkins aside.
“You are hungry, yes?” Reaper asked.
“Yeah, dude. I got the grumbles somethin’ fierce.”
Reaper paused for a moment, obviously trying to process what Methkins meant by that. Eventually, he just shrugged and squared his shoulders.
“I will gladly give you the money for a couple of hotdogs, if you will first disable some runes for us.”
“You need me to disable runes?”
“Oh, for the love of…” I started, reaching out for the little shit.
He ducked away and moved to stand behind Reaper.
“What’s her beef?”
“My beef, you fuck twit,” I spat, “is that we need to get in there to save a couple of lives and you’re more worried about eating than you are with helping us!”
“Oh, right.” He wiped his nose. “So what do you want me to do?”
I bit my lip and fought to keep myself from shoving Reaper out of the way so I could strangle the scrawny twerp.
It wouldn’t help.
While we were in a rush, it was clear that Methkins didn’t share the same sense of urgency. Me threatening to remove his head from his body wouldn’t help. Well, it may help me, but it wouldn’t ge
t the job done.
So I took a deep breath and slowly counted back from ten.
That’s when an idea struck. Wizards were mostly laid back, but whenever you went and started comparing them to each other, they got ultra competitive.
“You know,” I said, glancing away, “I remember when I was new to the force there was a wizard who was the fastest at breaking down runes.” I tapped on my chin in pretend thought. “He was the best. I think his name was Kimo, but I’m not sure if that was it or not.”
“Yep,” Methkins said. “Kimo kills it at opening these things. Also makes a mean stew. The dude rocks.” He snapped his fingers. “Maybe you shoulda called him down here to help you guys out?”
Clearly catching on to the circumstance at hand, Reaper took a step back and motioned for me to go ahead and kick Methkins’ ass.
When Methkins noticed his protector had moved away, he changed his tune.
“Uh…so where are these runes?” he asked as his eyes shifted back and forth between Reaper and me. “I can always do some foodin’ later.”
Without a word, I pointed to the nearest hidden zone.
He began to walk toward it, but I grabbed his shoulder and turned to stroll parallel to the wall.
“What are you doin’, man?”
“There are cameras on the posts near the top,” I explained. “If the fae spot us, it won’t be an advantage to have broken through the runes.”
“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.” He scratched his greasy hair. “What do you want to do, then?”
“I was hoping that you may have some ideas on the subject,” I replied, though I had serious doubts that he’d come up with anything useful. “You are a wizard, after all.”
“True.” He rubbed his chin as we continued our slow pace. A smile formed within seconds and he glanced up at me. “We could get some hotdogs.”
It took some effort, but Reaper finally pulled me away from Methkins. I hadn’t done any real damage to the wizard, but I had the feeling he wasn’t going to mention hotdogs again any time soon.
Deathly Temperance: A Piper & Payne Supernatural Thriller (Netherworld Paranormal Police Department Book 3) Page 4