by L. K. Below
STALKING SHADE
The Order, Book One
By L.K. Below
LYRICAL PRESS
http://lyricalpress.com/
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/
This one’s for the Spenta Michos. A great writer, a wonderful teacher, and an inspiration. Someday, I may even tell you I wrote a book about you. Thanks for encouraging me to follow my dreams.
Foreword
This book began way back in 2007 when my high school writer’s club decided to write a collective project. What to write? Well, it wasn’t a tough decision. Three of our members (myself included) had already jokingly created a secret organization around one of our favorite teachers. To be funny, we decided to expand a bit on that organization. We needed a common situation – the disappearance of the Spenta Michos (SM) or “Holy Michael” – and each created a different character. Our two unbreakable rules: we can allude to who the SM is, but never state his full name outright; and no one is allowed to find the SM. By the end of this series, I will be breaking the second rule in the name of closure. I hope my former writer’s club members will forgive the transgression.
That being said, I’d like to attribute a few of the characters to their respective creators:
Heaven Jessup - author: Maeghan Etherington
Jacob Matheson - author: Cayleigh Bellazzi
Dodge (Andy Rorabeck), Tree (Samantha Peeters), and “Alien Female” (Mitchell Carrington) unfortunately did not make an appearance in this book.
Thanks guys, for a truly wonderful and fun year. Even if most of you never finished your respective stories.
Chapter 1
Something bad had happened, or would happen. Hours before her cellphone began to vibrate in her pocket, Lori had felt the familiar sinking in her gut. By the time her stomach had shrunk to the size of a chickpea, she knew there was a catastrophe coming. She could already feel the wave about to crash over her.
Her fingers trembled as she fished the phone out of her jeans’ pocket. She thumbed a button. Three words greeted her:
MIA Spenta Michos
The Holy Michael was missing. Caller unknown. Which meant the text was from the anonymous Big Boss.
The crowd milled past her frozen form, rushing to board the subway. She stared blankly at the phone in her hand, though truth be told, she felt…nothing. No surprise. No panic. Nothing. Throughout the day, she had mentally prepared herself for something this terrible. Instead of tears or panic rising up to overwhelm her, she felt numb.
Not more than thirty seconds later, her cellphone vibrated again as it received another message:
Meeting @ Sharkhouse 1900
Lori turned on her heel, dashing back to the subway. Sharkhouse was not far from the subway station, but it was only 5:30 PM. She didn’t feel like waiting outside for an hour and a half. Instead, she dashed between the subway doors as they squeezed shut.
The crowd stared at her, trying to appear as though they didn’t notice her at all. She ignored them. Cowards, every last one. No one would meet her gaze. Sliding into a suddenly vacant seat, she tucked a smile away. God, she loved being a scary goth. She stuffed her earphones into her ears and turned on her iPod.
The world faded away under the onslaught of the music, leaving Lori alone with her thoughts. The sinking feeling in her stomach began to lift now that the warning had served its purpose. In its place, it left an urgent nagging.
The Spenta Michos, missing. How could that be? The Order watched him constantly. Members surveyed his house, lingered near his workplace, and followed him in the streets. The Spenta Michos was more secure than the President of the United States! And completely unaware of it. No, he could not have simply wandered off.
Nor could he have been killed on the job. He was a teacher, for God’s sake! Lori could think of few less hazardous occupations. Besides, the text had said MIA, not dead. He could still be alive.
Please, let it be so.
What would the Order be without the Spenta Michos? Aka Druj Spenta Michos. Save the Holy Michael from evil lies–their purpose. Many Order members spent their whole waking lives devoted to secretly serving him. Every member monitored and protected him in return for the drops of wisdom he unknowingly spewed. The Order would be nothing without him. It would fall apart like wet sheets of paper. Lori gnawed on her tongue ring. Shark was right to hold a meeting. The Order must regain the Spenta Michos.
Lori pulled the plugs from her ears and flicked off her iPod as the subway pulled to her stop. She joined the crowd as they stampeded up the concrete steps to the street above. A short bus ride later, she strolled onto the University campus.
This coming year would be her fifth–and hopefully final–one. She aspired to get her Masters in Literature by the year’s end. At this point, she could stick to her nocturnal habits. She had relatively few classes; most of this year would consist of developing and writing her thesis. Lori’s topic: the vampire myth and its metamorphosis in literature from demon to celebrity. She also hoped to explore the cults surrounding these myths and faux-vampires today. She was well-read in that area, and besides, she had more than one faux-vampire friend to help.
The dorm halls were nearly deserted. To most, the Saturday before classes started was a prime time to get wasted. When Lori returned later, she would have to fend off those not lucky enough to get laid. That never failed to piss her off. Worst would be the freshmen, the new boys who thought University was all about partying and getting tail, and chicks–particularly angry goth chicks, for some reason beyond her comprehension–were willing to drop everything and jump them at the snap of their fingers. One of these days, she would plant her boot in some unlucky boy’s ass and get herself in trouble.
Reaching her room without incident, Lori sighed. She slipped inside. This year, she had a single room so she wouldn’t disturb anyone with her sleeping habits. Well worth the extra twenty-five percent boarding fee.
Stepping over to her dresser, she emptied her pockets. Everything in her small room seemed to be in place. The bed was made, the small duffle bag holding her books untouched, and none of her drawers tampered with. After some class act had stolen her underwear during her freshman year, she always double-checked. She changed quickly into her night-walking clothes. Shark’s meeting was not likely to be a dress-to-impress affair, but she wanted to cast the right impression, just in case. The weather was still warm, even at night, so she opted for a slim black tank top, tight black jeans, high-heeled gothic boots, and black netted gloves. She rearranged her heavy crucifix necklace to make it visible, and checked to ensure her black fake nails were still securely glued on. After looping a studded belt through her jeans, she detached the chains from her boots, in case she needed the extra mobility. She slipped an elastic band over her wrist, and touched up her makeup. Once her skin was appropriately pale, her brown-gray eyes lined in dark eyeliner, and her mouth burgundy with lipstick, she searched for her safeguards.
Her “safeguards,” as she referred to them, were a silver dagger and a sharp silver stake. She hoped never to have to use them. She didn’t actually believe vampires and creatures of that ilk existed, but it eased her mind to keep the weapons stuffed into her boot tops. Besides, it was an adequate bluff in case any of her faux-vampire friends ever stepped out of line.
Other than those essential items, she took with her only what she strictly needed: her cellphone, her bus pass–which also allowed her free passage on the subway–and a few bucks in case of an emergency. She was better off leaving anything of value in her room. More than half of the people attending Shark’s meeting were kleptomaniacs and pickpockets. Lori had a good eye, but she couldn’t catch everything.
As she marched through the city,
she repeated her objectives silently to herself. She was only attending the meeting to get information: where the Spenta Michos had last been seen, how long exactly he had been missing, and so on. Although she had not, as yet, been given an order to find the Spenta Michos, neither had she been expressly forbidden to go after him. In this sort of crisis, it was every man for himself–or herself. Whoever had sent her the text messages seemed to want volunteers. There would be many.
Lori had never met the person in charge. She did odd jobs, as ordered by the anonymous texts she received. Several times, those “jobs” had involved her supernatural abilities–even though she hadn’t confessed them to any Order member. While the Big Boss handed out most of her assignments, rarely did she know the big picture. But while she didn’t know the head honcho’s motives, she suspected the Big Boss nurtured the same extraordinary powers she did, to an even greater degree. How else could they know the things they did?
Take her induction into the Order, for instance. She had been recruited by a run-of-the-mill member. Rosland had spoken to her only once, taken her to see the Spenta Michos from afar, and set her up with Shark. All this because of a mysterious text message he had received.
In fact, Lori didn’t even know many of the Order members. She doubted anyone did. She knew Rosland and a few members from Shark’s circle, but no one else. There could be hundreds, thousands of them scattered around the city. Most only performed menial tasks–a watch here or there. Others performed operational tasks, like Shark. To those in her circle, Shark was the closest thing to the leader of the Order
Sharkhouse referred to the forgotten basement of a warehouse, the closest thing the Order had to a base. A large computer system took up one wall with monitors, wires, and other technological doodads. This was Byte’s domain. He couldn’t be much more than eighteen years old, if that. From this station, he monitored the Spenta Michos and the various Order members known to him. Or so Lori suspected.
A huge table usurped the center of the room. This was Shark’s space and the ex-military woman filled it appropriately, with piles and piles of maps. Some were pinned down at the edges, and most were marked with colored tabs. Lori could only begin to imagine what Shark kept track of.
Over a dozen members of the Order occupied the room, not including the two who had called this meeting. A few murmured to each other, but most waited silently for the meeting to begin. Lori took a post near the base of the stairs where she could quietly monitor the proceedings. The meeting would begin before long.
True to Lori’s predictions, Shark started the meeting at exactly 7:00 PM, upholding the same military standards as her time spent in the army.
“Guess y’all know why you’re here.” Shark’s voice carried. She laid her hands flat on the table. Her sharp eyes held an irritated gleam.
The few soft whispers ceased immediately. All eyes turned to Shark. She struck a commanding figure, dressed in dark military-style fatigues, with piercings in her lip, nose, and ears, and her hair in a crooked mohawk which resembled a dorsal fin. She was a take-charge kind of person–hence the meeting. If any answers were to be found this early, they would be found here.
Shark continued grimly, “Spenta Michos is missing.”
Lori heard the heavy thunk of a door and glanced up behind her. She stifled a sneer at the sight of the person standing there. Her caustic comment dripped from her tongue before she had a chance to hold it back. “Why, look, it’s the descent of Heaven.”
This particular preppy teenage girl got on her nerves more than any person she had ever met. Combined. Her full name was Heaven Jessup, though Lori preferred to think of her as Heaven Dress Up. The girl owned more outfits than there were species of insect in the world. Today she was uncharacteristically clothed in a baggy sweater and jeans which might even be called frumpy. Her hood covered her head and obscured her face from view.
Her clothing style was not the reason Lori felt so intolerant toward her tonight, though it accounted for most nights. Keeping watch on the Spenta Michos fell under Heaven’s jurisdiction. In truth, she traded shifts with many other people, but given the time at which Lori had first begun to have that terrible feeling, she would be willing to bet this girl had officially been on duty. The Spenta Michos’s disappearance was Heaven’s fault, Lori knew instinctively.
“Leave the kid alone,” a man said calmly. Matheson. Jacob Matheson.
Heaven took her place at the edge of the crowd beside Lori. Shark promptly addressed this most important addition to their party. “Kid! Now that you’re here–you’ve got some ’splaining to do.”
Heaven didn’t answer. Again, that was not like the snotty, cheerful little brat Lori knew. Shark had to prompt her before she would lift her eyes.
“What do you want me to say?” She sounded almost defeated.
Byte answered her, swinging around in his computer chair. “The truth.”
“I looked. He wasn’t there. I don’t know where he is.”
So it seemed Heaven had no information to impart, after all. “Useless,” Lori grumbled under her breath.
The blond prep spun around. “What?”
Lori wasn’t a coward. Her comment had slipped out without her permission–Heaven tended to have that effect on her–but she would not back down to some twelfth-grade nut job. “Isn’t it your job to know where he is?”
“Oh,” Heaven tilted her head and cooed. “Lori Glory gonna cry?” She moved her fingers over the opposite wrist as if she held a knife between them.
Anger built inside Lori like a raging tornado. She abhorred that nickname. She spoke between gritted teeth, managing to keep her head, but biting off each word, nonetheless. “That’s emo, not goth.”
Heaven opened her mouth, but Matheson stepped in again. “Calm. Simmer.” He gave them each a reproachful look.
Shark reclaimed control of her meeting. “Okay, we need tags on SM’s credit cards, bank accounts, email, and cellphone.”
Byte complied, keys clicking.
Was Shark really treating this as if the Spenta Michos had decided to take an untimely vacation? They’d have better luck roaming the city, calling his name at the top of their lungs. And to think, Lori had expected to get answers here.
“Do you honestly think he just up and walked away?” Her comment drew the eyes of everyone present. She made an infuriated and disbelieving sound. “This meeting is pointless.”
She ignored the low hum of voices as she vacated the warehouse. Although no one else thought the meeting preposterous enough to leave, she didn’t much care. They could do whatever they damn well pleased.
While she had expected to work alone to find the Spenta Michos, the lack of information found at the meeting opened a gaping hole beneath her. She had no place to start looking. Too many loose ends. Too many unanswered questions. If the Spenta Michos had disappeared around the same time her stomach had began to ache in warning, where had he done so? Had he reached his house? Or had something dire happened while he was traveling, or even at his work? No one knew. Had she known where he had last been seen, she might have been able to investigate there. Right now, she felt worse than a rocket scientist at a clown convention. She needed to form some sort of a plan.
Underground’s loud music engulfed her, soothing her. She hadn’t meant to come to the gothic club tonight, but it felt right. As good a place as any to think.
She made a beeline through the crowd to the bar. As a regular, she stopped short when she found her seat occupied. A quick glare convinced the group–who also frequented the club often enough to recognize her–to leave. No one stepped forward to occupy the seats on either side of hers.
“Coffee,” she said to one of the two bartenders working as she emptied her pockets on the counter, where she could keep an eye on the contents. Nothing was missing–that she could see.
Scissors–a ridiculous, yet strangely apt nickname for the faux-vampire with hair cut in jagged edges, longer on one side and shorter on the other–winced i
n sympathy as she poured a cup. Her lips parted to show just a hint of fang. “That bad, huh?”
Lori nodded once, stiffly, as she wrapped her hands around the inviting mug. She sipped gratefully, letting the flavor of good coffee soothe her nerves.
“Anything I can do to help?”
For a moment, Lori’s cool veneer almost slipped. Although she had prepared herself for something disastrous to happen, she had hoped… She shook her head in answer to Scissors’s inquiry; the vamp knew nothing about the Spenta Michos. Lori would have to solve the mystery of his disappearance on her own.
She was too tightly wound to think properly. Turning so her back rested against the counter, she arranged her left heel on the seat as she nursed her coffee. Instead of giving herself a headache trying to force an answer to her problem, she let her mind drift, listening to the mundane conversations taking place around her. For the moment, she let others’ petty concerns misplace hers.
A goth two chairs down giggled with her friend. “The drummer is so cute. Do you think I have a chance?”
“He’s gay,” the other girl said dismissively.
“But how do you know?”
Lori turned her attention to someone else. The band was good, but nothing special. She had no interest whatsoever in the drummer or his sexual preference. Another pair of girls sat at a nearby table. Their voices were barely audible above the music. One, a few years older, said to the other, “…flirting with him. It’s not good to get mixed up with vampires.”
Har har to that.
“He’s not a real vampire, is he?” The younger had obviously never been to a venue like this before.
“No, of course not, but you shouldn’t get mixed up with those freaks. They really think they are vampires. He might want to suck your blood or something.”
Did women all have one-track minds? Lori certainly wasn’t thinking about men tonight, the Spenta Michos notwithstanding. Her hearing drifted farther along the counter, to where the second bartender spoke with another man. She froze as she heard her name.