by Gavin Green
The trio of hemos waited for Viggo to take his men on another extended war march, and then made their move the next day. The short version is that most of Fennore's followers were slaughtered, and her human lineage hid in secret rooms within the fortress when the villagers finally managed to break in. Fennore, apparently too arrogant to think humans would ever revolt against her, laid there slumbering without any defense. She was wrapped in about a ton of chain and then staked.
That night, the trio of hemos carried Fennore out of the fortress and waited for scouts to tell them what direction Viggo would return from. They got the info and used all that chain to secure her to a stone post on that edge of the village. The bastards waited until Viggo and his men were barely in sight, set Fennore on fire, and then used their Gift of the Void to escape. There was no way he or his warriors could get there in time to put her out, but they charged forward anyway.
The stake burned away, freeing Fennore, but she was engulfed in flames by then. At first she could only scream in agony, but then was able to form her last words when she saw Viggo through the flames that were licking her face. Fennore called out, telling him to watch over her lineage, and to swear to it. Viggo bellowed back that he would, but was never sure if she heard him.
Fennore's last word was her lover's name before she crumbled into dust. I knew that before Barnabus said it; the dream I had months before was still vivid in my mind. Barnabus could paint a good picture with words, but it couldn't compare to actually seeing it.
Viggo couldn't face the betrayal of his own people, not for a long time. Taking his men, he left the village to its fate. Using info from fellow Deviants, he finally found those responsible. Viggo wasn't sure how many members of the sect there were - he went wild with bloodlust as soon as he entered their domain.
Barnabus explained that when a hemo is physically drained by another, down to the point of husk or ashes, the victim's essence is pretty much consumed. While the act can transfer knowledge or power, there is a great risk of destroying one's own essence in the process. If that happens, the mind loses all connection with reality forever. It's the reason their law of death was created.
Viggo went back to the cave that was his home years before and claimed it as his domain again. He would have stayed there for a very long time, but he had humans to watch over. So, it turned out that I was related to a hemo who thought she was a deity and performed sacrificial murders. Wonderful.
"I've rambled on long enough for now," Barnabus said, standing up. "I hope that small piece of your lord's personal history was enlightening."
I got up as well. "It sure as hell was. Thank you."
We walked in relative silence until we got to the garage. After pushing the door remote, I asked, "So, uh, Mr. Merritt, about those Fauna tips you were gonna give me . . ."
"Ah, quite so," he responded, waving a finger at me. "To start you on that journey, I suggest this: begin with initiating eye contact. Be calm, be confident. Do it often. Methodically extend the time of your gaze, let it linger."
"What, that's it?"
"It may take longer than you assume, Mr. Beck, but very well. I will expound further. Once you feel truly comfortable capturing Thunder's attention in that manner, begin to focus your mind on simple thoughts while doing so." He gave a single nod as if that crumb of advice was a meal.
"Okay, uh, thanks. And I mean for everything." I made sure the gate closed after Barnabus drove out in his classic Chevy. "Think simple thoughts?" I said to myself. Shit, I'm the king of simple thoughts.
PARANOID
There was a new chore in the Planner for the next day. I had to buy some hardwood lumber and have it cut into short lengths. Then I had to wait until I got a text and deliver the lumber to a specific address. More duties would be given at that time. Sounded simple enough.
Since I was in the hemo-net, I decided to browse. I came across a want-ad of some Deviant in Detroit who was paying top dollar for live midgets to be delivered; the price went up for any previously mutilated subject. It was getting damn tough to have any type of respect for almost any hemo bastard, let alone the twisted ones that had nothing human left in them.
I was stewing in disgust when Thunder hopped up on the desk and rubbed his cheek on my arm with a purr. Huh, social cat. His antics for attention got rid of my dark mood. I tried locking eyes with him as Barnabus suggested, but he turned and left the office. I was gonna suck at that Fauna Gift.
Gwen and I met at some greasy spoon the next day for lunch. Considering that I was still technically missing - at least in the human world - we sat in a rear booth for concealment. She was a little jumpy and nervous, tapping her purple nails on the table and glancing out of the booth. "Well, this is a new look - paranoid Gwen," I said conversationally. "Are you acting like that to freak me out, or do you have a real problem?"
"Oh, I think it's real enough," she replied, fidgeting with her menu. "And the cause of my problem is Mr. Leopold Beck, thanks so much."
"What, me? What the hell did I do?"
"What did you do . . . Hmm. Let me start with a little background. One of my main duties for our mutual patron is to download data from various security cameras around the city and store it in a private server. All human and vehicular traffic is automatically run through a recognition software program. There are lots of profiles already loaded, so the program flags any reoccurring hits. I review the flags and make reports. With me so far?"
"Yeah, pretty much." Gwen had started rolling up her plastic menu and then releasing it. "If you're going to order coffee when the waitress comes," I said, taking the menu out of her hands, "make it decaf."
She moved on to fussing with her utensils. "So, two days ago I was reviewing a tape from a security camera at the front of a downtown parking facility that our mutual patron controls. That camera sets off lots of flags, mostly at night, and mostly getting matches on cars coming from and going to a big, fancy building right down the block on the other side of the street. Guess who I saw, Leo."
"Uh, the Doyenne?" I had no clue; I was throwing rocks in the dark.
"Oh, no, no," Gwen answered dramatically. "I saw someone much more familiar. A white van screeched to a stop in front of that building, and you got out."
"Oh shit."
"Oh shit is right. I saw the whole thing, Leo - the entire veil-ripping scene. I watched you and some Asian guy going at it karate-kid style, only faster than you should've been able to. Oh, and then there was the Great Vermin Incursion; that was a toe-curling hoot. Should I even mention the guy whose head was turned into pulp after our Mr. Stone was finished with him?"
"No need." Our waitress arrived; I sent her off with two hasty orders of the cheesesteak special. "Alright, so you saw what went down. At least the footage is in safe hands. It is in safe hands, right?"
The offended glare I got as a reply told me I might've just put Gwen's technological skills into question. That suspicion was confirmed when she quietly sniped, "Go shit in your hand."
"Okay, sorry. So if it's not that, then what's got you so worked up?"
"The next day, yesterday, I was taking calls on the Silas business line when someone rang and asked to hire you as their personal EP. I said you were no longer with the company, and they hung up. After that, it got weird."
"For you to call something weird, it has to be way out there."
"I mean weird scary, dummy. When another call came for you and got the same reply, they wanted to hire any other EP you worked with on a regular basis. Right before lunch, a caller knew Cordell and Diego by their names and wanted to hire them. I think it's a good thing they're both contracted right now. Last but not least, one more call came in mentioning your name; when the creep couldn't get any info on you, he asked who I was! Me, Leo!"
Shit, anyone I might've been close to had become targets to use against me, just like Phillip. He just wasn't a good enough friend to be effective. I was sure Viggo had a shitload of resources and influence to cover my ass, but I dou
bted he could match the combined clout of the Adept faction. I had no way to protect Gwen, other than to get clearance to let her hide at my place. If that wasn't allowed, though, I couldn't think of many options. "Maybe you should take a vacation," I suggested.
"I can't right now - that's the icing on the cow patty. Silas is going to be audited by the IRS next week, so Crane wants me and Leona from payroll to be there at all times. If one of the other factions is behind the audit, it means they'll have access to details about every employee. I left messages for Mr. Stone about it, but he hasn't responded."
I watched Gwen absently bent her metal butter knife around two of her thick little fingers. I took that away, too, and put it in my pocket. "Okay, I'll try to get hold of him, too. We can just get our meals to go, and you can get back to work. I doubt you're in the mood to eat right now anyway."
"No, not really." She rummaged in her big purse for a second and then looked back up at me. "Wait; when you texted me this morning, you mentioned cheap lunch and something about a local report you saw. What report?"
I waved it off. "Don't worry about it right now, it's no big deal. Hey, just to be safe, maybe you shouldn't take your normal route when you head home later. Circle a block once in a while, and keep an eye on your mirrors. Come to think of it, you should probably find another place to stay tonight. If I hear back from our patron before you do, I'll give you a yell."
I followed Gwen out of the lot and for about a mile after, making sure she didn't have a tail. On my way to a hardware store for the demanded lumber, I took my own advice and turned a twenty minute drive into forty. I took the same precautions on the way home, taking side streets and watching every car behind me. Paranoia sucks.
WALDO
Knowing I had to drive later that evening, I didn't hit the booze too hard. I received Viggo's text just before the nightly news. I was only given an address, and to check with the guy at the gate. Okay, there was a gate - not much of a clue. I quickly googled the address; it was an inner-city cemetery. I wondered if Viggo was trying to be spooky on purpose, or if it was a prerequisite for anything Deviants did.
I got to the address a short time later, noting the rough neighborhood I was in. Elmwood Cemetery was surrounded by a big cement wall on every side, so I couldn't get a look at the place before I pulled up to the tall iron gates. The guy who opened them for me was scruffy, middle-aged, and didn't have much of a personality. He handed me a hand-drawn map of the cemetery that only showed the narrow lanes that ran through the place. An X was drawn in one area, with the word 'Waldo' written next to it.
The lane that the X sat on had a string of mausoleums built into the low knolls on either side. I hopped out of the van and was about to turn my flashlight on when I heard Viggo's voice call to me. The Waldo family mausoleum was built with a tiny low-walled patio out front, big enough for stone benches to sit on either side of its iron-barred door. My commander sat there, waiting for me.
"Good evening, sir," I said quietly; it didn't seem right to make much noise in the solemn setting. "I have the lumber you asked for. Do you mind if I ask a few questions while I'm here?"
"We do need to talk, Leo, but deliver the wood first." He leaned over and pulled the mausoleum door open, revealing its pitch black interior. "There is an empty crypt shelf on the right. Stack it there."
When I finished unloading the hardwood cuts of 2x4, Viggo invited me to sit on the bench across from him. "Let us first be rid of your curiosities, and then we can discuss further duties."
"Yes sir, thank you. Uh, the first thing on my mind was . . . what the hell did Le Meur do to me? I mean, I was just fixing a pipe and talking to that derelict, Audra, and out of nowhere I had some crazy urge that pulled me toward the Doyenne."
"That pull you felt was the product of a higher ability within the Gift of Enchantment. Remember how we once spoke of a range of abilities as a Gift increases in power? What she used on you is most often referred to as Magnetism. Practitioners commonly employ it to wordlessly summon a minion or known human to their side. The Doyenne must have taxed herself to have so strongly drawn you to her."
I nodded at the explanation and then asked, "Was that Audra chick involved? It seemed kinda weird to run into her down in a steam pipe under a college."
"So far as I know, she had no participation in the events of that evening other than to alert me of your suspicious behavior. As to why Audra snuck into the administration building, I can only assume that she was scouting student files." Even in the dark, Viggo must've seen the confusion on my face. "Many of us are very thorough and demanding when seeking a viable choice for progeny," he explained. "Some look for a certain attitude and skill set, while others seek candidates that are talented or educated in specific fields. Either for herself or for a client, I presume Audra was gathering information on potential scions."
"Okay, I get it - gathering intel, that makes sense." I took a deep breath before I asked my favor. "So, uh, since Le Meur called the bluff of my death, everyone I care about is in an even more dangerous position than before. I think Gwen might be a target. Can she crash at my - uh, our - place for a while?"
Viggo shook his head. "The looming danger will end soon. Until matters are settled, it will be as when you first came to your new abode. I have arranged for Miss Solomon to take safe refuge elsewhere."
"Yes sir, I appreciate that."
"Let us proceed with your updated duties, shall we? I planned for certain events to come at a much later time, but the threat to your life has forced my hand. The Doyenne is now aware of an unknown Eidolon in her city that watches over you. Instead of claiming you once more to spite the Deviants, she now most likely wants you dead. Lady Le Meur is no fool, however; she is wary of incurring my wrath. Still, her pride cannot be quantified."
Those vague words made me feel like shit. "Sorry to have fucked things up for you, sir."
Viggo waved off the apology with a flick of his hand. "Your safety is the only important thing; my oath demands no less. You have a particular ancestor who was much more of a burden, but we'll speak of him later." He reached into his coat pockets, pulled out a couple items, and tossed one of them to me. As I caught the bundle of wrapped cash, he said, "Buy a new outfit tomorrow. If not formal attire, make it nearly so. You will be presentable."
"Yes sir. Uh, presentable for what?"
He tossed me the other item, a key and remote fob on a key ring. "You will have a new vehicle. The van was seen by Adepts and Realm personnel. It also would not be the favored mode of transportation for the guest you will be chauffeuring to me."
"Yeah, I guess a van with a big dent in the side is kind of easy to spot. Uh, where's the new ride?"
"It is behind the cemetery chapel you passed on your way in. Leave the van next to it. Tomorrow night, just before midnight, a jet will be landing at a small airfield - the Truman Regional. It sits on the eastern outskirts of the city. You will collect my guest, along with his assistants, and bring them here to me."
"Back here? To this cemetery - to Waldo?" I thought that was a strange order, although I shouldn't have. With my commander, the unexpected had become the norm.
"Yes, here; pull right up in front. My guest is very important, very powerful. You will be courteous and respectful at all times."
"Of course, sir. Uh, can I know who your guest is to address him properly?"
Viggo nodded and said, "His name is Aldo Skala. You will call him sir or Mr. Skala if he allows it. I once told you that one of my scions was the Doyen of Munich, Germany. It is he, coming to visit his sire."
A few minutes later, I parked the van next to my replacement car. It was a newer Audi sedan, gleaming silver in the moonlight. Damn, it was sharp. I got in and began familiarizing myself with all the bells and whistles. After a minute, I glanced in the backseat, thinking that in about twenty four hours a Doyen - not to mention Viggo's scion - would be sitting there. I doubted he was going to call shotgun.
TASKS
Despi
te protests from her boss (knowing Crane, it was more like whining), Gwen left work early the next day to go clothes shopping with me. Her choice sure as hell had nothing to do with putting her fashion sense to work because, honestly, she didn't have any. I think it was more that she felt secure with me. It wasn't just that Gwen thought she'd be safer in my company than at a building full of EPs - that would've been one hell of a compliment, and something she would never admit. The main thing was that we were both tangled in the web of the hemo world; it gave our good friendship an even stronger bond.
While we browsed slacks in an outlet store, Gwen told me about the 'residence' she was allowed to use. It was Shawn Riordan's old place, a small abandoned fire station. It was refurbished, and the brass pole was left in. I thought it sounded cool. She wasn't as excited, and asked if I wanted any of the musical instruments, equipment, or any of his other shit that was sitting around. One Glazefinger t-shirt was enough for me.
I brought up Stanley Everett's death while Gwen picked out hideous shirt and tie combinations. She wasn't aware that the warehouse he and his wife were found in belonged to Declan McKenna. She did, however, know some other stuff about the case. Everett's son, a lawyer in Denver and sole beneficiary of their wills, came back to town after he lost communication with his parents. He met with detectives before they were found, and then once more afterwards to be ruled off the suspect list. Since then, no one has seen or heard from him.
On a whim, I asked Gwen to do some discreet digging on Trade Solutions Import/Export. When she turned to type the business name into her phone as a reminder, I quickly put her clothing selections back. I sure as hell wasn't a fashion guru, but a peach shirt with a purple paisley tie might've gotten me killed in the wrong company. I chose an outfit that was nicer than my old suits, all in grays and black. Gwen frowned at the selection; screw it - I liked boring.
The lone ground controller at the Truman airfield accepted a bribe; I parked the Audi next to the end of their single landing strip and waited. The private jet landed on time and taxied to within one hundred feet of me. I expected the Doyen of Munich to exit the jet wearing something nicer than the Muddy Waters t-shirt, cargo pants and combat boots he had on. It was his two large assistants who wore suits.