The Shadow of the Progenitors: A Transforms Novel (The Cause Book 1)

by Randall Farmer

  Bart artfully sighed and backed down; she knew from experience he would go behind her back and pester Van. Van, bless his heart, would assign Bart a paper on the subject, his favorite way of giving himself time to muster his own arguments.

  Whatever worked.

  Halfway back to her apartment with a plate of hot dogs, still irritated and carefully watching the juice flow, Gail heard the household phone ring. She stopped and frowned for just a moment before continuing. Betha would catch the phone, but the call would almost certainly be for Gail. Only another Focus would call at this hour of the night. Focuses needed little sleep, and so considered any time before midnight to be fair game for phone calls.

  Gail timed the call in her mind as she quickly gobbled a hotdog. Two rings before Betha picked up the phone, fifteen seconds for Betha to realize the caller was a Focus, twenty seconds while Betha ran from the office down the hall, up the stairs, and…

  “Ma’am, Focus!” Betha said, from the head of the stairs. Gail had already turned around and waited for her. “Focus Biggioni wants to talk to you.”

  Gail nodded, cynical at the predictability of late-night phone calls.

  “Transfer the call up to my office.”

  “Tonya, it’s great to hear from you,” Gail said. “Do you have news about Van’s book?” The household had chosen Van as boss because he wasn’t currently writing. When he wrote, he didn’t have the brain cells to keep track of other people’s details.

  “It’s great to talk to you, too. How’s the weather up there?” Tonya said. “Any new babies in the house? Any new gossip from Detroit?”

  “Sorry,” Gail said. “I never do manage the small talk very well, do I?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that’s one of your strong points, no,” Tonya said. Gail heard the smile in her voice.

  “Okay, well let’s see, the weather’s hot, but probably not as hot as Philadelphia. No new babies, but Elaine is pregnant again with her third. As far as gossip, I think there’s something going on between Wini Adkins and Grace Johnson, but I’m not sure what. All I know is that Grace is real bad tempered these days, and pissed at Wini besides. I suspect Wini is trying to get her to do something she doesn’t want to, but like I said, I don’t know what.”

  “Hmm,” Tonya said. “How long ago did this start?”

  “A couple of weeks ago.”

  “But you don’t know anything about the issue? Do any of the other Focuses up there?”

  “I don’t think so. I know Beth doesn’t, and if any of the others do, they haven’t bothered to tell me.”

  “Maybe I can make a few phone calls…” Tonya’s voice drifted off.

  “Okay.” Gail snorted. “I’ve covered the weather, the babies, and the local gossip. Can I ask about Van’s book now?”

  Tonya sighed. “Well, you can ask. The book’s on the agenda for the next Council meeting.”

  “Tonya, it’s been on the agenda for the last two already, from before his final draft, and they keep putting it off. Van’s invested his soul in the book and the Council is just stringing him along. The book needs to be out there, putting a human face on Transform Sickness.”

  “I expect they’ll give Van permission to publish, eventually, but the early years are still politically sensitive.”

  “It’s been two years since we submitted the book!” Eighteen months of politically mandated revisions. No more revisions now, just stalling.

  Tonya didn’t answer. Eventually Gail sighed.

  “All right, I know. If you can just do what you can, we’d appreciate it.”

  “I know, and I’ll do my best.”

  “Thanks, Tonya.”

  “Good then,” Tonya said, ignoring the less than convincing tone to Gail’s response. “I have something I need to talk to you about.”

  “Okay, sure,” Gail said, attempting to maintain a positive attitude.

  “I have a request from Carol Hancock. Turns out she’s been working on a project for a couple of years, attempting to figure out how Focuses can give juice to Arms. Now that Arm Keaton’s moved out of Detroit, Hancock wants to work with you.”

  Gail frowned. Carol Hancock had saved her life three years ago, in the Battle in Detroit, giving her an obligation to the Arm.

  An obligation to an Arm wasn’t a comfortable thing.

  “What exactly does she want to do?”

  “She wants to train you to be a top-of-the-line juice manipulator. She thinks that if you have top-end juice handling skills you can learn to transfer juice to an Arm.”

  “Great. You do remember why I’ve been keeping my head down, don’t you?” Focus Wini Adkins, the local political leader among the Focuses, had ordered her to keep her nose out of anything except Transform rights and new Focus mentoring. Or else. She had made the implied ‘or else’ official the day after Arm Keaton left town.

  “Her interest implies protection from Wini. Carol holds a grudge against Wini, and it won’t take much to set her off.”

  “Wonderful,” Gail said, under her breath. The project did sound interesting and exciting, the chance to learn new skills and to be at the forefront of discovery. This was just the sort of thing to make a difference if they succeeded. Politics aside, she had always wanted to train up her Focus capabilities. Tonya’s proposal definitely had its appeal.

  On the other hand, she would have to work with Carol Hancock, an Arm with a mercurial reputation and a nasty temper, which she had experienced herself several times. Besides, in addition to being time consuming, terrifying, and insanely dangerous, her household leadership team would shit bricks when they found out. If Bart thought civil rights protests were dangerous, he was going to explode when he realized he would have to deal with an Arm in the house.

  “Tonya, the project sounds extremely interesting, and I appreciate your offer, but I really don’t think I can take it on.”

  “She needs you, Gail. You’re the only one who has ever given an Arm juice under any circumstances.”

  “Nope, she doesn’t need me. If the only person she can get juice from is me, then the project doesn’t really matter. All she has is a one-time curiosity. She needs to be able to get juice from other Focuses.”

  Tonya paused, for far too long.

  “Tonya?” Gail asked.

  “I’m really sorry,” Tonya said, “but this isn’t a request.”

  “Not a request,” Gail repeated, and her stomach tightened into a little knot. “You’re ordering me to go against Focus Adkins.”

  “Yes,” Tonya said. “This is necessary.”

  Gail paused for too long. “I’m not sure I care for this order.”

  “I’m sorry to give it. Truly sorry.”

  Gail worked out the implications. Van would never get his book published. Her people who held jobs would get exposed, impoverishing her household. Or, gaah, she could go to Focus Adkins, tell the story, and climb back under Adkins’ vile thumb. “I don’t think you understand the position this places me in.” Choosing between Adkins and Hancock was definitely a tiger or tiger style choice.

  “Gail, I do understand, and I do appreciate that you’re upset. I happen to like you, and most of the time, you like me. You don’t want to go this way, and you don’t have a choice.”

  Gail sighed. These idiots wanted to teach peanut butter to dance, and that damned peanut butter was going to dance, one way or the other. “Right. So we bury it all under the table and I do what you want, and we pretend that you never blackmailed me. Is that how this works?”

  “Exactly. I’ll even continue to support you, and we can work together as well as you are willing to accept.”

  “You’ll excuse me if I have a little trouble with this.”

  “Oh, I understand. Take a little while to get used to the idea. You always wanted free of Focus Adkins, and you’ve known freeing yourself would neither be easy or safe. Keep your eyes open; there’s a lot of opportunity in this project beyond the obvious.”

  Gail winced. “Th
en I accept,” she said. She made small talk and hung up, her headache pounding like a drum. She wasn’t afraid, she told herself. Sneaking behind the back of Wini Adkins, perhaps egging on an Arm into a range war with Wini. Nothing to worry about. She would be fine. She wasn’t afraid at all.

  She was terrified.

  Gilgamesh: July 14, 1972 – July 19, 1972

  Gilgamesh ate a bowl of Shadow’s leftover split pea soup and watched Hoskins down an incredible quantity of ham sandwiches. Not good predator food. An Arm would have to pay for the dietary deviance with hours of exercise. Gilgamesh wondered if that applied to Chimeras, too.

  After nine days of incredibly hard work for everyone involved, Gilgamesh sensed this was decision day. “So, Shadow, when did the Crows develop this ability to cast other Crows out?” Gilgamesh asked. “We’re talking a non-trivial dross construct, one in an area outside of the Guru-training skills. Where did this come from? Why have I never heard of a Crow being cast out?” His questions would delay the dreaded decision at least for a few more minutes.

  “Hmm,” Shadow said, taking a sip of tea. “You’re correct. The capability is about ten years old, but is rarely used these days.”

  “If I may be so bold…”

  Shadow sighed. “Yes, yes, yes, Gilgamesh. Your curiosity.” The one big bone of contention between Shadow and him. Gilgamesh was convinced the senior Crows’ secrecy fetish would doom them if they didn’t mend their ways. “After the Crows dove into the shadows after the end of the Quarantine, we came to several different opinions about what we should do. ‘We’ being a group of a dozen Crows, that is, the only Crows who didn’t have low juice problems because we’d had access to the dross of the quarantined Focuses. In those good years, we’d developed talents that the other Crows didn’t have. Several of us, including myself, Merlin and Zirkel, wanted to help new Crows and the other Crows who avoided us. Something to match the UFA organization the Focuses put together. Zirkel named it Mimesis, the memory of mimicking. By late 1960, the organization was going strong, although all of its founders had moved on to other things, such as investigation into rumors of Chimeras, and other Crows had taken over.” Shadow paused, and sipped tea.

  “What happened to this organization?” Gilgamesh asked. He knew Merlin well, or at least well as far as Crows went. They had never met in person, but they exchanged letters regularly, and Gilgamesh had a standing invitation from Merlin to come to Atlanta to see Merlin’s latest artistic creations.

  “Well, therein lies the tale,” Shadow said. “A Crow named Horse, a follower of Thomas the Dreamer, as was Zirkel, took over Mimesis in late ’60. Horse wanted to use our organized Crow talents to gather money and help fund indigent Crows. Other Crows disagreed, led by Rumor, then a follower of Innocence. We couldn’t come to an agreement, and in the end, we fought. Poorly, because we didn’t know how to fight. In our private histories, we labeled 1961 and 1962 as our ‘days of struggle’. The conflict didn’t end until Horse was cast out, Mimesis disbanded, and Crow organizations forbidden. In the place of Mimesis a new system arose: Mentors and Gurus, replacing the formal factions of ‘which Crow followed which other Crows’. Crows were expected to learn from several Gurus. The Mentors forced Merlin and Rumor to abandon Innocence and follow Thomas the Dreamer, they forced Zirkel to abandon Chevalier and follow Arpeggio. I was…”

  Shadow put down his teacup, stood and paced. Gilgamesh watched silently, careful not to disturb Shadow’s thoughts. “I was the last rebel to give in. My punishment mirrored Gilgamesh’s letter: they forbade me to be a Guru. They did the forbidding with dross constructs, and the forbidding held until about a year before we met, Gilgamesh. I possessed Mentor talents when they did this to me, and I haven’t lost my capabilities in the intervening years, nor have I ever recognized the authority of the older Crows. Chevalier, the oldest surviving Crow and officially our first Mentor, does not care for me to this day. I’m sorry to say this, but I’m afraid I’ve involved you in a much older fight than you signed up for.”

  “Fine by me, sir,” Hoskins said. “When you picked me up from the Old Farm, you said you had come to a decision about Master Sinclair, Master Shadow. What have you decided?”

  Here we go, Gilgamesh thought.

  “I’ve determined that fixing Sinclair lies beyond the ability of any Crow,” Shadow said. Duke Hoskins eyes widened, but he didn’t otherwise move or react. “As you’ve seen, I’ve created quite a few new dross constructs allowing both Gilgamesh and myself to keep Master Sinclair alive.” Gilgamesh nodded, attempting to avoid Hoskins’ glare at him for nosing into Noble business. Shadow’s newly designed dross constructs allowed either he or Shadow to bleed off Sinclair’s extra juice, as Crows were juice producers. Without such a thing, Sinclair would eventually turn into a Crow-Monster. Then there were the physical healing dross constructs to undo the damage Sinclair’s panic did to his body. And so on and so forth, all designed by Shadow to be maintainable by a Crow of Gilgamesh’s meager dross construct talents. “I’ve also learned to serve as a Crow Master of Nobles, a very enlightening experience, and thus stabilize your Barony and be able to teach your young Nobles.”

  “You’re sending me away from my own Barony, then?” Hoskins said. “A quest?” Gilgamesh hadn’t realized where this would lead. Why did he have a bad feeling he would end up involved in this? Well, why else would Shadow have designed the dross constructs on Sinclair to be so easy to maintain? “Where is this quest going to take me? Whom am I seeking out, Master Shadow?”

  “Ahh, the details,” Shadow said. He returned to his seat at the small table. “In the same way Crows easily manipulate how a physical body interacts with juice and dross, Focuses can easily manipulate the way the juice and dross interact with the mind. A Focus should be able to cure him. All we have to do is find a Focus who can do this. Then off you go on your quest.”

  ---

  Gail was the fourth Focus Gilgamesh called, after Lori, Lupe Rodriguez in Los Angeles and Linda Cooley in Chicago. Each said fixing Sinclair lay outside of their expertise. “Gail here. Gilgamesh?”

  “I have a strange question to ask,” Gilgamesh said. He told Gail the rough details about what happened to Sinclair. “Is there any chance you might be able to fix him?”

  “Me?” Gail snorted. He heard the gentle whoosh-whoosh dryer sounds in the background, which meant someone had chased her out of her office again. “I wouldn’t even know where to start. There are Focuses out there who can do such things?”

  “Yes. I’ve already talked to three whose skills are close, yet not exactly right.” Lori said she could certainly make Sinclair worse; being able to cause this variety of damage didn’t mean she understood how to fix it. Focus Rodriguez meditated on Sinclair and diagnosed him, from Los Angeles, and said the issue was too physical for her to deal with. Focus Rodriguez, as always, terrified Gilgamesh. Linda, who had experience using such tricks on herself and her Transforms, was hesitant about doing her style of rough experimentation on a Crow, though, and reminded him about how her work with Tiamat hadn’t ever gotten anywhere because Linda hadn’t been strong enough. “I was just hoping you might have done the impossible in this area once or twice.”

  “Sorry, but no.” Gail’s voice deepened to a growl. “Say, did you have anything to do with sticking Hancock on my case? Apparently, Tonya sold me to her to be a test subject for some juice moving project.”

  Gilgamesh flinched, the phone levitating away from his ear. “Uh, no. Sorry,” he said, shivering. Gail’s temper always got to him. “I’ve been mostly out of touch with Tiamat for the last few months.”

  “Right. Your Guru training. Pardon me for my harshness,” Gail said. “I’m a little worried about this project. I agreed nearly a week ago, and she hasn’t shown up or made contact yet.”

  “I don’t think you have anything to worry about personally; Tiamat likes you,” he said. “On the other hand, she’s been on edge for months. Your household will need to watch their comments and th
eir attitude.”

  “Hmm. Isn’t she going to want to deal with me alone, the same way Stacy did?”

  “Uh, no. Tiamat’s very different in that regard.”

  “Say, speaking of Stacy, you need to talk to her,” Gail said. “If there’s anyone who is going to know who can get Sinclair fixed, it’s her. Picking the right person for the right job is her specialty.” She paused. “Hey, don’t forget about us! We miss you. Stop by again, soon.” His never-ending Guru training had forced him to cancel his last three meetings with Gail’s strange but friendly household.

  “I will, as soon as I can find time,” Gilgamesh said.

  ---

  “Fuck,” Hoskins said.

  They sat in Shadow’s living room again. Shadow tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. Hoskins and Shadows contacts had been as useless as his.

  “So what am I going to do?” Hoskins said. “Visit every Focus one at a time and ask them about their specialty?”

  Gilgamesh winced at the thought. “I don’t think your average Focus would react well to that sort of approach.”

  “I don’t care if they fucking react well or not. They can have fucking hysterics so long as they fix Master Sinclair.”

  “Your grace,” Shadow said in a quiet voice, “don’t you have some sort of Rule about temper and raising your voice?”

  Hoskins stiffened, and then bowed his head at Shadow. “Master Shadow, you do indeed deserve the title. My apologies.”

  “Focus Rickenbach did have an idea along those lines,” Gilgamesh said. They both turned to look at him. “We may not know which Focus can help us, but we do know someone who knows what everyone is good for.”

  “Who?” Shadow asked.

  “Arm Keaton. She’s a specialist in using people, and she knows the strengths and weaknesses of half the Major Transforms in the entire country.”

  Hoskins looked to Shadow with his eyebrows raised.

  “That might actually work,” Shadow said.

  “She’ll want to be paid,” Hoskins said.