Blue Shadow

by Brad Magnarella

“I saw it too,” Guzman said.

  The mayor’s eyes moved between us. Outnumbered, she appeared ready to accede. But the shaman stirred first. We all looked at him as he began to mumble. Slowly, the mumbles became Spanish words.

  “The boy was under a dominion spell,” Mayor Flores translated. “Chepe was trying to purge him. The counter-spell was aggressive, yes, but there was no other way.”

  “More likely he was under Chepe’s dominion spell,” I said. “And Chepe was trying to silence him.”

  The Mayan shaman spoke again.

  “He says the evil is growing stronger. The defenses he set up won’t be able to keep it out much longer. And then El Rosario will fall into a black pit.”

  That made me stop. I had assumed the barrier around El Rosario was similar to the protective barriers around its houses and church—an innate feature of the town, maybe. But it made more sense that someone had cast a powerful spell to erect it. Someone like Chepe. The town wouldn’t have missed a few stray cats. Also, the mayor had volunteered the info on the barrier. She didn’t know the cargo hold of my van contained a vaporized vampire.

  I set the shaman on his feet but kept a secure hold on his arm.

  “How does he know so much about the evil here?” I asked.

  “Because,” the shaman rasped, “I created it.”

  21

  The mayor looked at Chepe in shock, her head shaking slowly.

  “See?” Guzman said, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “I told you he was behind it!”

  I swept the preacher aside with my free arm and drew the shaman in closer. “What do you mean, you created it?”

  “I will tell you everything,” he said groggily. “Need somewhere to sit.”

  He and the mayor looked around, but I said, “Not here. Back at the compound.”

  Still holding to his arm, as much to steady him as make sure he didn’t try to break free, I led the way. The mayor kept up at a fast walk, while the preacher ran around us flapping his hands.

  “This is exactly what he wants,” he all but screamed. “To get you alone so he can twist your mind with his devil’s tongue! This very morning, he said that my congregation and I would be safer far away from here. He wanted me to persuade the other pastors to leave with their congregations as well. He knew we were making inroads into El Rosario! He knew the people would soon see his devilry for what it was and come to the light!”

  “If El Rosario falls,” Chepe said, “your villages will be next.”

  “If El Rosario falls, it will be because you led them to Satan!” Guzman shot back. “The rest of us are under God’s protection.”

  “That’s why you attacked him this morning?” I asked the preacher point blank.

  “Yes—well, n-no,” he stammered. “It was in self defense. He was trying to poison my mind!”

  “Go back to the plaza,” I said. “Pack up your things and return to your village.”

  Guzman looked wildly between me and Chepe. “You’re siding with him?”

  I wasn’t siding with anyone at this point, but I needed to get to the bottom of what was going on. For now that meant getting Chepe to the compound where he could talk. Having Salvador Guzman outside, ranting and raving about Satan and the End Times, wasn’t going to help.

  “If we decide you do need to evacuate,” I said, “the mayor’s office will contact you.”

  The preacher sputtered for a moment, red blotches spreading across his cheeks. “He’s already gotten to you!” he screeched. “He’s already warped your thoughts with his black magic!” He pulled out his pocket Bible, opened it to an earmarked page, and began rattling off a passage in Spanish.

  “Go!” Mayor Flores ordered him. “Vaya con Dios, pero àndale!”

  Guzman stalked beside us for several more paces before snarling and letting us pull away. “You’re going to regret this!” he shouted. “He’ll take you down a path of evil from which there is no return!”

  When we arrived at the compound, Rusty let us in. I seated Chepe at the table and retrieved a bottled water for him as well as an icepack. He nodded as he accepted both, pressing the icepack to the back of his head where I’d struck him. Yoofi wandered in, sized up the Mayan shaman, and took a seat at the far end of the table. As the mayor sat beside Chepe, I pulled Rusty into the office.

  “Any sign of Nicho?”

  “Not yet, boss. Still looking. But the base just sent an update on Sarah and Olaf. Both are stable but still under monitoring.”

  That was a relief. “How’s Takara doing?”

  “Haven’t heard a peep. Should we check on her?”

  “After we talk to the shaman,” I said.

  I was as much concerned for Takara as about her. There was no telling what had happened inside the black hole, but it was something I hoped Chepe would be able to shed light on.

  Rusty raised an eyebrow. “We gonna be able to trust anything the old man says?”

  I had been wondering the same thing. Though I’d been exposed to plenty of magic in the last month, the mechanics of it still confounded me. I had Yoofi to consult, but his knowledge seemed limited to his own neck of the woods. I needed someone with a broader understanding.

  “Hey, can you set up a laptop at that end of the table?” I asked. “I want to try to conference someone in.”

  “Sure thing, boss. Who?”

  “A magic-user I’ve worked with before. Everson Croft.”

  “Wait, isn’t that the dude Sarah said you couldn’t consult?”

  “Sarah isn’t here.”

  Rusty showed his hands. “Hey, I was just asking.”

  What would Sarah say if she were in the room? With another midnight deadline—this one for all the marbles—and a Mayan shaman about to tell us what we were up against, would she want to make sure the info was accurate? Or would she still insist on following the policies and procedures, and preserving her position, at the expense of the info’s integrity?

  Didn’t matter, I decided. I knew what I would do.

  A loud series of beeps sounded from one of the computers. Rusty stumbled over and typed in something. The beeping stopped. “Urgent communication from Interim Director William Beam,” he said. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Probably got my report, I thought.

  I peered back at the table where the mayor and shaman were waiting for me. For a moment, I considered ignoring the commo request, but the chain of command was too deeply instilled in me. I may have been in sole charge on the ground now, but Director Beam was above me. I took a seat at the console, logged in, and accepted the request. A private channel opened on the commo system. A moment later, a man’s face filled the screen.

  “Captain Wolfe,” he said.

  “Director Beam,” I answered cautiously.

  He was younger than I’d imagined him, with a slender, aristocratic face and a dimpled chin. What I could see of his blue suit looked expensive. His parted hair shone with gel. I tried not to make a habit of judging people on their looks, but this guy had douche bag written all over his face.

  “I’ll cut right to the point,” he said. “We received your report, and after careful review, Centurion has decided to end the mission.”

  My blood pressure spiked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You’ll need to arrange with the standby unit for your exfil. We already have a plane ready to go at our Mexico City base. We want you back at the Legion base by 2200 tonight.”

  I gestured for Rusty to step out and close the office door behind him. “Listen,” I said in a low growl, “it’s all coming to a head tonight, and we’re on the verge of a breakthrough. We need another day.”

  Beam sighed. “Captain Wolfe, by your own account, half the team is incapacitated. The remaining members, excepting you, lack field experience. It’s a formula for disaster.”

  “I’m not the one who pushed this assignment,” I reminded him.

  He talked over me. “We run the very real risk of not only fai
ling to fulfill our end of the contract, but of losing assets we can’t afford to. We’re already operating at a loss. Time to cut.”

  “And what about the people of El Rosario?”

  He looked at me blankly for a moment before nodding in an unconvincing show of sympathy. “It’s unfortunate, but we’re in no position to help them right now. They’re going to have to appeal to their federal authorities. It will be up to the military.”

  “There’s no time to bring in the military,” I said. “Anyway, we’re not dealing with something that conventional forces can address. I thought that was the whole goddamned reason for the Legion Program.”

  “Ultimately, yes. But we’re still a work in progress.”

  “So what’s this going to say to other potential clients? Why would they work with a program known for pulling out at the first signs of trouble?”

  “What’s it going to say? Absolutely nothing. That’s the reason for our nondisclosure agreement.” His expression was so smug that had he been standing in front of me, I would have been tempted to knock it off his face.

  “One more day,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “I admire your dedication, Captain, but our discussion is over. Listen, I have a meeting at the West Coast campus next week. I’ll swing by the Legion compound and we’ll have a little pow-wow. Discuss how to keep this sort of thing from happening in the future. I’ll even see about getting some wagyu steaks. Ever tried one? Delicious. Supposed to be the best in the world.”

  “There are children missing!” I roared.

  Director Beam’s lips straightened as he sized up my helmeted head. “Children go missing every day. You were recruited into the Legion Program for your leadership and professionalism. I’m seeing very little of either right now.”

  “Now you listen to me—”

  “And another thing. I’d think twice before defying our orders. As you know, we monitor all communications. We’re aware of your fiancé’s situation. We have a man shadowing Kurt Hawtin and another keeping an eye on Daniela, to ensure she’s safe. If you insist on staying in El Rosario, those men will get recalled. It’s not a matter of retribution, Captain, but resources. Like I said, we’re already operating at a loss.”

  Had it not been for Segundo’s last email, which had all but assured me Kurt wasn’t a threat to Daniela, I might have hesitated. Instead, I said, “Right,” and killed the connection.

  I stood and paced the room, breaths cycling harshly. I pulled off my helmet and dragged a hand between my ears. There was no way I could end the mission, not with so many people depending on us, not with nine children missing. I slammed a fist into the wall, making the room shake.

  Not when we were so close, goddammit!

  I pulled out my phone and dialed Purdy. I hadn’t wanted to go to him again, didn’t want him to have any more leverage over me, but besides being higher up the pole than Beam, he was a negotiator. We would come to terms, even if it meant extending my contract. I was ready to be leveraged.

  But I reached Purdy’s voicemail.

  “It’s Captain Wolfe,” I said after the tone. “I think you know what this is about. Call me back right away.”

  A tentative knock sounded on the door. “Sir?” Rusty called from the other side. “Everything all right?”

  Everything was pretty fucking far from all right, I thought as I disconnected the call. Maybe Purdy would be able to fix things; maybe he wouldn’t. But I wasn’t going to sit on my hands while I waited for him to get back to me. I opened the door and pulled Rusty inside.

  “Hey, what did Beam want?” he whispered. “What was the shouting and banging about?”

  I ignored his questions. “You’re good with computers. Can you get me a secure line?”

  “I don’t know about secure,” he said, looking over the laptop. “Centurion’s monitoring technology is pretty damned tight. But I can probably bury the call in a bunch of noise.”

  “Do that, then.”

  “Why? What’s up?”

  “We’re going ahead with that conference call, and I don’t want Centurion eavesdropping.”

  Rusty grinned. “Bypassing the Man, huh? I like it.”

  After several minutes of hacking away at the keys, he turned the laptop toward me. “You’re buried about as deep as I can get you.”

  I clapped his shoulder, consulted the slip of paper I’d tucked into my wallet, and dialed. After four rings, and when I was sure it was going to go to another voice mail, someone picked up. But my relief quickly turned to dismay when a female voice demanded, “What?”

  It was that damned cat.

  “Everson Croft, please.”

  There was a slight pause during which Tabitha recognized who I was as well. “Is this that blue werewolf? Oh, you sound awful, darling. Just atrocious. You pitiful thing. I thought a witch was going to fix you.” Her voice sounded more taunting than sympathetic.

  “It’s a long story,” I growled. “Is he in?”

  “What, no time for small talk?”

  “No. Can you get him?”

  “Oh, I see,” she said thinly. “I’m just the help.”

  The phone clattered down. For a moment I thought she’d hung up, but she’d only dropped the receiver. How she had picked it up in the first place, I had no idea. I listened intently, fully expecting to hear Tabitha settling back onto her perch by the window. But distant voices were soon followed by approaching footsteps. Finally, I heard the receiver being retrieved from the floor.

  “This is Everson.”

  22

  I hadn’t talked to Prof Croft since we’d collaborated to kill the White Dragon in New York City. It was good to hear his voice. I gave him a quick update on what had happened in the weeks since I’d left, how I was still the Blue Wolf and now working for an organization that tracked and killed monsters. If there had been time, I would have explained why I had elected not to join forces with him, but there wasn’t. Instead, I explained the situation in El Rosario.

  “That does sound serious,” he said when I finished.

  “If you’ve got a few minutes, we could really use your help.”

  “You actually caught me at a good time. I’m waiting for a potion to cook. Got called to a pixie infestation in Chelsea.”

  “You promised me lunch,” Tabitha pouted in the background.

  I heard Croft’s hand go around the receiver as he walked into another room. “I have about an hour. Lay it on me.”

  “Great. I’m going to have you listen in on a meeting with the Mayan shaman I told you about. I don’t know much about magic, so I need to know if what he’s saying makes sense.”

  A minute later I had the laptop set up at one end of the table. Croft was plugged in through his landline, so there was no video feed. I took a seat across from Chepe. The mayor was sitting beside him, and Yoofi beside me. Rusty clapped my shoulder as he returned to the office to monitor the surveillance system.

  “Can you hear me?” I asked.

  “Loud and clear,” Croft answered from the laptop.

  I nodded at Chepe that we were ready. He took the icepack from the back of his head and set it down. His cloudy eyes moved around the table as he began. He spoke in Spanish mostly, Mayor Flores providing the translation.

  “Chepe was called to his work as a sacerdote by Maximon himself,” she began, “in a dream.”

  “Who’s Maximon?” I asked.

  “To the north of El Rosario you have seen a peak that rises above the others?” the mayor asked. “That is Maximon. A descendant of the Corn God, he is the protector of El Rosario.”

  Chepe nodded and continued.

  “When the Catholic missionaries came hundreds of years ago, they made St. Paul the town’s patron saint,” Mayor Flores said. “Over time, Maximon and St. Paul came to be different names for the same being. Even to those who called him St. Paul, he had the same powers as Maximon, performed the same functions. And he resided in the mountain.”

  Across th
e laptop connection, I could hear Croft pulling down books.

  “During the Festival of St. Paul, Chepe performs several rituals,” the mayor continued as Chepe spoke. “But once every twenty-three years, the Saint’s Day coincides with the end of a Short Cycle on the Mayan calendar. A powerful time. Beginning a week before the Saint’s Day, Chepe fasts to purify his body, mind, and spirit. When the day arrives, he takes a pilgrimage to a secret place. It is a day’s journey. That night, he performs a series of powerful rites to honor Maximon and St. Paul and bring favor to El Rosario for the next cycle.”

  Croft was flipping pages and muttering to himself now. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but his tone sounded encouraging. In the chair beside mine, Yoofi smiled and puffed a cigar.

  “The last time, the ceremony brought seasons of health and good harvests to El Rosario,” Mayor Flores translated. Then she interjected, “I am old enough to tell you this is true.”

  Chepe nodded at her, then picked up his thread, with the mayor translating again.

  “But toward the end of the cycle, our good fortune declined. We had seasons of drought. Chepe did everything he could, appealing to Maximon as well as to our ancestors. That kept the situation from becoming worse, but he could only do so much until the next cycle.”

  The shaman’s leathery hands became more animated as he spoke.

  “This time he fasted for two weeks,” the mayor said. “And he prepared a special incense, one that would open a stronger channel to Maximon. When the day came, his body shook with energy. He felt more powerful than he ever had before. When he arrived at the site and began the rites, he was sure Maximon would be pleased. But hours into the rites, something happened.”

  “Oh, crap,” Croft muttered through the feed.

  The shaman and Mayor Flores seemed not to have heard as she continued the translation. “For the main rite, Chepe built a circle, with colored candles at the cardinal directions. Into the circle he set several offerings. As Chepe chanted and swirled a burner with the smoking incense, the candle flames grew tall. ‘This is a good sign,’ he thought. ‘Maximon can hear my prayers.’ Even so, Chepe did not want El Rosario to be forgotten at the end of the cycle, like had happened the last time. So he pushed more of the power that shook through him into the circle. The flames grew taller still. All was going as he’d hoped. But very suddenly, something snapped in the air. More a feeling than a sound. The flames died, and darkness swept over Chepe. Maximon had left him. Chepe didn’t know why. He didn’t know what he had done. Then an evil voice called from the darkness, ‘Enter me.’”