Embracing the Shadows

by Gavin Green

  When Mr. Skala got close enough, I could see the details of his appearance. He was about my size, built solid, and had an air of authority. Dark blond hair hung in a loose style over his black eyes - completely black, like Viggo's. It looked as if a layer of rough-textured beige plaster had been spread over his skin, and little chunks of it had chipped off. Bizarre and inhuman, just like his sire.

  Mr. Skala stopped less than ten feet away and silently studied me for a moment. As his huge minions stopped behind him with their hands full of luggage, he stepped closer. Taking in my features and facial scars, he asked in a thick German accent, "You are Mr. Beck, the current holder of my sire's oath, yes?" The question came with a hint of irritation in his gruff voice.

  Great, Viggo's scion didn't like me already. I would have liked the chance to at least earn his contempt first. "Yes sir," I answered without emotion. "Allow me to get the door for you." I didn't wait for his nod.

  Once the luggage was stuffed into the trunk and the minions stuffed themselves into the car, we began the forty minute drive back to Elmwood cemetery. The three of them had a few short conversations in German, so I had no clue what they were saying. I took a couple glances at the guy sitting next to me in the front passenger seat; he looked like over three hundred pounds of nothing but muscle and ugly. I couldn't help but wonder if he would've turned out that way normally, or if drinking a lot of Deviant blood gave his genetics a nudge.

  Viggo was waiting for us in front of the Waldo mausoleum. He and Aldo warmly gripped each other's shoulders, both saying their hellos in German. I watched the two luggage-toting minions step into the small mausoleum, followed by their master. Either there was an underground passage connected to it, or the damn thing was like a clown car. Viggo told me to check my Planner and then sent me home. Not to sound like a whiny bitch about it, I felt a little excluded.

  SUSPECT

  I woke up to Thunder licking my eyelid. My alarm clock showed that it wasn't even five in the morning yet. Less than three hours of sleep made me a grumpy prick. I was about to tell the cat to fuck off and then bury my head in a pillow when I noticed my phone vibrating with a new text. Grunting, I clumsily grabbed it off the bedside table and held it close to my blurry eyes. Two texts and two missed phone calls, all from Gwen in the last twenty minutes. I was suddenly awake, wondering if she was in trouble.

  Fumbling with the buttons, I opened the first text. 'TURN ON CHANNEL 9 NOW! JUMPING JESUS, WHAT HAPPENED?!' I had no idea what Gwen was freaking out about. I rolled out of bed, shuffled to the lounge and fell back into a chair with the remote in my hand. Since I was up - sort of - I decided to find out what she wanted me to see before I called her back and chewed her ass for waking me long before the sun was up. I did enough of that for years in the military.

  The channel 9 morning news was showing the weather. Great, more rain on the way. I switched over to channel 5; they had just started into their lead story at the top of the hour. It was an update on the case involving the murders of Stanley and Mary Everett.

  "Upon reviewing footage from a security camera inside the warehouse where the couple was found," the reporter said, "police are looking for a suspect that an inside source says is strongly tied to the case." A photo appeared on the screen next to the reporter. Stunned is a good word to describe my reaction.

  It was me.

  The picture came from my military I.D. badge. I included the shot with the few dossiers I'd handed out. Off the top of my head, the only people I could think of that had a copy of it were Viggo, Ragna, Silas Security, and Le Meur's business minion Dominique Rondeau. Goddammit.

  "Former Marine sergeant Leopold D. Beck is wanted for questioning in the May 2nd homicides of the Everett's. Beck, a highly-trained veteran of numerous military operations in Afghanistan, should be considered armed and extremely dangerous. Call the tips hotline if you have any knowledge of his whereabouts. There is a reward for any information leading to an arrest."

  What the living fuck? I had no clue how I was being fingered for Stanley's murder, but man, I was being set up good. Because of this, everyone I knew probably thought I was at least somehow involved in it. First, all my friends thought I was dead or a wandering drunk or abducted by aliens or whatever, then they heard I was alive and a suspect in a murder case. Fucking wonderful. And the cherry on top was that everyone now knew my real first name.

  Just like all the other times I had been screwed with in the last handful of months, some damn hemo was behind it. Whether it was Le Meur or McKenna or one of the other supernatural assholes that I left a poor impression with, they had ruined my life.

  I didn't bother listening to Gwen's messages. I called her back on my way down to the kitchen to make a drink. Yeah, it was only five in the morning, but so the hell what? I deserved a stiff belt. She answered her phone with, "What does the D stand for?"

  I could always count on Gwen to say the unexpected. "What? I thought you were gonna start with telling me how completely screwed I am, or asking if I was really involved."

  She made her annoyed sigh dramatically audible. "You being screwed is a given, and I find it offensive that you would wonder if I even entertained the thought of you having anything to do with it, Leo. You're being framed, pure and simple. The questions are: who, why, and how?"

  Ah, Jack and Coke, the mellow-maker. I slammed down my first drink before I replied, "The 'who' is any hemo who didn't find me to be an absolute delight, which is most of 'em. The 'why' could be anything from me being a pain in one of their asses, to nothing more than one of 'em thought it'd be funny. Don't expect me to know what they think or anything about the fucked up games they play. As for how I'm getting pinned for this, that's a damn good question. I need to see that tape, Gwen."

  "Don't expect me to be able to get my cute little hands on it. That footage is a hot commodity right now. No one I know could get near it, and wouldn't take the chance of making a copy if they could. Sorry, Leo, you're going to have to see what our patron can do. Until then, what are your options?"

  "Shit, I don't have any options, Gwen. I'm in a safe place. I can't go out for anything, not anymore - my face is all over the news. The only thing I can do is wait until tonight and talk to the boss."

  "I'm sorry, Leo, I really am. You know I'd help if I could. Don't go getting any wild ideas about how to fix this and get yourself in trouble. Well, more trouble."

  "No way. I'm staying put."

  "I expect the police will call or come by the office today, digging up what they can about you."

  "Do not defend me with them, Gwen. Don't incriminate yourself, stay neutral."

  "I'm a professional, dummy. They won't get a twitch out of me."

  I spent the rest of the day trying to keep myself busy. I cooked Phillip a quick breakfast, and made a few half-assed attempts to get into a staring contest with Thunder. I'd read that cats view that as a challenge or a threat, but he didn't seem to mind. I also left a message for Viggo when he woke, explaining the fun new turn of events. A good hour was spent with the punching bag, which I beat the shit out of. The rest of my time was spent trying not to get hammered, and failing miserably.

  VIDEO

  A wet sensation on my nostrils woke me later that evening; I'd passed out in a recliner around dinner time. My eyes opened and saw Thunder sitting on my chest, and Viggo standing in front of me. My whole body jerked in surprise. Thunder didn't budge. Sobering up quick, I set the cat aside and stood. Okay, make that only fairly quick on the sobering - the room wobbled when I hopped out of the chair.

  "I recant an earlier statement," Viggo grumbled. "You are the most troublesome of your entire lineage."

  "Sorry, sir. I don't mean to be." I swallowed down a hint of bile and steadied my feet.

  Viggo's posture slightly relaxed. "Intent was never your undoing, Leo. You simply continue to be placed in precarious situations, and by the local members of my race. Perhaps now your level of distaste for many of them rivals my own . . . But that is a
discussion for another time."

  "Yes sir, I look forward to it." I was relieved that my commander felt the contempt for hemos that I'd learned to feel. Hell, that opinion was inevitable with all the shit they'd given me. I would have never wanted Viggo to know how I felt if his opinion opposed mine. But with his words, I no longer had to worry about being diplomatic when the topic came up.

  "Because of the message you left," Viggo continued, "I began my own investigation of sorts. I may not be able to thwart the mortal authorities by clandestine means, but I am quite able to determine some of the true facts of the case."

  "Sire," a gruff, accented voice said from the doorway of the lounge, "I am capable of completing the task on my own." Aldo Skala leaned against the doorframe. His jeans, blue turtleneck and wavy blonde hair reminded me of a smug catalogue model, but his crumbling-plaster face ruined the effect.

  I hadn't even noticed Skala was there; I was focused on Viggo and trying to stop my vision from swimming. I couldn't get my booze-soaked brain to figure out why Viggo's moody European scion was there, or what he was talking about.

  "If you knew exactly where to go," Viggo said to him, "then I would agree with you, Aldo. As I told you earlier, you have a greater grasp of modern technology, while only I know the precise location. We go together." He turned back to me. "Leo, Mr. Skala and I must go, but we will return for you very shortly. At that time, you will come with us. You have ten minutes to prepare. As a cautionary note, I do not believe that void-walking and inebriation is a wise combination."

  Viggo and Skala stepped out of the room into the dark staircase and then disappeared. As soon as they were gone, I went down to the kitchen and dunked my head in the sink that I filled with cold water and ice. My commander and his scion returned sooner than I would've liked, but by then my senses were clearer and I was wide awake.

  Huddled together, we all void-walked into a dark corner of the first Deviant den that Viggo brought me to. It was the one that was a mix of cavern and studio apartment. It was as I remembered it; wires clamped all over the walls, the bed sitting back in a natural recess of stone, an array of electronic equipment, and the iron submarine-style doors on either end. The only new addition was the Deviant called Skin setting up a camcorder on a tripod.

  "Hey, kid," he said with an easy smile. "Stepped in some more shit, did ya now?"

  I wasn't sure how to reply to that, so I didn't. Skala handed Skin a clear CD case. Viggo explained to me that Mr. O'Shaughnessy had been asked to help because of his audio and video expertise. Footage of 'my' crime had just been borrowed from an evidence room, copied and returned. Besides studying that new copy, Skin was going to access Gwen's security camera files and cross-reference for any possible matches of everyone in the database.

  But first, a video was going to be made of me moving around for the purpose of contrasting my shape and gait patterns with whoever the real killer was. The concept felt vaguely gay.

  "Couldn't you and Mr. Skala just have kept the original, sir?" I asked while Skin filmed me walking and carrying a heavy area rug on my shoulder. "With no evidence, there's no case."

  Viggo shook his head. "Copies have undoubtedly already been made. I do not know how many or where they might be, so retrieval is impossible."

  I set the rug down with a sigh. "I'll never have anything like a normal life again, will I, sir?"

  "For what purpose, Mr. Beck?" Skala asked from a nearby reading table he was sitting at. "Do you truly wish to resume your place among the ignorant cattle? Consider where you are, what you've seen, and your newfound abilities. All because you have been shown the true, dark reality. How many others of the vast herd of shuffling bovines are as fortunate as you? It should be your privilege to knowingly be in the presence of immortal beings." He frowned at me. "Normal life? What an insulting regression."

  Viggo scowled at his progeny. Skin kept his head down and busied himself with the video equipment. I kept my lips tight, fighting the urge to point out that billions of human 'cattle' unknowingly kept Skala and all his kind in check. Even though humans didn't know they held that power, the hemos did. The only reasons I didn't point that out were because Viggo wouldn't take kindly to my lip, and that I didn't have those billions of people right there to back me up.

  ANSWERS

  Twenty minutes later, I sat on the edge of the bed feeling like a liability. Viggo and Skin were busy studying computer screens and talking among themselves, leaving no room for a third set of eyes. Skala remained at the reading table, flipping through the pages of a thick book. Rather than sitting there like a useless piece of shit and feeling sorry for myself, I decided to get some answers of my own.

  I sat across from Skala, rested my elbows on the table, and waited until he looked up from his book. "Not to be a bother, sir," I said, "but I was wondering what I did to piss you off."

  He raised a cracked eyebrow in mild surprise. "I would rather call it continuous resentment. If I were angry with you, Mr. Beck, you certainly would not be allowed to converse with me."

  "Okay, fine, you feel continuous resentment toward me, whatever that means. I'd like to know how I earned it. I've got enough enemies as it is, Mr. Skala - I don't want my commander's scion as another."

  Skala pushed his book aside, leaned forward on the table and said, "Your master brought me into the night nearly twelve hundred years ago. I will spare you any descriptions of the cruelties of life in the middle ages. My sire told me of his oath, and showed me the current recipient of it. That man was a pig in all ways but shape. His eldest bastard boy wasn't much better; a thief with hardly a hint of honor. After him was a callous warrior with no empathy. The lineage of that sordid sort continued.

  "For over ninety years did I stay near Viggo and assist him. When I decided to make my own way, I still returned to visit my sire throughout the decades and centuries. All the while, he remained true to his oath, watching over human descendants that were not his own. In all of that time and having met so many of your forefathers, only two did I think merited Viggo's guardianship. Two, out of dozens. My sire has spent his existence watching over people who did not deserve his sacrifice. That should explain what I meant by continuous resentment, Mr. Beck. History has tainted my expectations of your line."

  Well, shit, how was I supposed to argue against that? Skala might've been harsh in his judgments and tended to stereotype me because of a few assholes in my family tree, but he was thinking of Viggo and wanted what was best for him. I would've done the same. "I'm sorry most of my ancestors didn't quite measure up, sir. I could say I'll try to change your opinion, but it's not your approval that I want."

  Skala's response was interrupted by Viggo, who said to us, "As there is no obviously no reception here, I must go see if an informant has been able to gather any further information. I shall return shortly." He walked over to a dark alcove and was gone a second later.

  I turned back around, and into Skala's unnerving stare. "We both have my sire foremost in our minds and hearts," he stated in a low and quiet tone. "For that alone, I will reserve further judgment. Do not, however, think that performing simple chores and staying out of the way will alter my view. I am not your enemy, Mr. Beck, but I am not your friend, either. I hope that satisfies your curiosity." Not waiting for a reply, he pulled the book back in front of him and lowered his head.

  With that conversation obviously over, I went over to where Skin sat and watched a replay of the tape with 'me' in it. The time counter on it showed 2:16 a.m. of May 2nd. The camera angle showed a nearly empty cargo area. Light spilled out of an office window on the left side, giving a dim glow to a wide swath of the warehouse floor. A vague silhouette was back in that office, unmoving, apparently waiting. I couldn't tell if it was McKenna or not.

  The roll-up receiving door on the far end of the warehouse lifted a few seconds later. A figure stepped in with a body on his shoulder. He toted the dead weight over to a four-foot square crate and dropped it in, and then did the same for another
body laying just outside. When the suspected murderer was done sealing the crate, he seemed to nod to the silhouette and walked out.

  The camera quality was grainy, but the guy looked a lot like me. Not exactly, but close. When he crossed through the light, I could see he wore the same style of leather coat as me. He also had the same facial hair, haircut and scars that I did. Someone went out of his way to make himself look like me. "So that's supposed to be me, huh?" I asked myself out loud.

  "Bollocks!" Skin said, sitting next to me. "The man on the screen has a different posture and walking gait, plus he doesn't have your arm strength. The structure of his jaw is a tad off, and his hands are paler than yours. There are other small signs, but no, kid, that ain't you. As for him," Skin reran the video and pointed at the silhouette, "I'm fairly sure someone manipulated some pixels. I don't think there is anyone in that office at all - a clever ruse to pinch ol' Declan McKenna in the process."

  "So who was the guy carrying the bodies?"

  Skin shrugged and turned back to the two monitors in front of him. "That may take a wee bit to figure out, considering that I can even find a match from all of your master's security clips."

  I flinched when Viggo unexpectedly spoke from directly behind me. Fuck, he was sneaky; I didn't even know he was back down there with us. "Miss Solomon has learned that the dissolution of business arrangements between Mr. Everett and Realm Management was caused by an undermining offer by Trade Solutions Import/Export. I happen to know that Mr. McKenna does enjoy thwarting the Doyenne's endeavors however he can."

  Skin swiveled in his chair to face Viggo. "So Le Meur had Everett iced and set up ol' Declan and your minion here - both being right pains in her arse - to take the fall. I have to give her credit; well played."