A Mongrel, A Bard and Witches, Oh My!: A Mongrelverse Story (Face The Music Book 2)

by Paul C. Middleton

  The two men grudgingly handed over their credentials, and Thal sighed in exasperation. I could tell, from the quirky ringing I could hear, that he was about to try and bluff them. "This man is under of investigation for abuse of office, and crimes potentially relating to paedophilia." I winced in disdain as he brought up that old wive's tale. It was vanishingly rare for a priest to commit that crime. "It relates to the time he was a priest in Australia, and the Royal commission into institutional child abuse that is running there has asked me to question him on their behalf." Thal had continued. I also knew his description was completely counter to how the Royal commission was running. If they wanted someone there, they requested the government extradite them back to Australia so they could interview them in person.

  However, it wasn't such a bad bluff. After all, how many people outside the police force were really following that sort of detail on the Royal commission?

  "I think that gives you guys an out. Any civil or criminal investigations void a standard contract for bodyguards, don't they?" The one with the broken nose, who seemed to be the one who was thinking more clearly, slowly nodded his head. "I suggest you don't want to be here while I question the Archbishop. You might feel compelled to do something stupid." Then I heard a singsong tone under Thal's voice and felt a slight tingling. Even though it was directed elsewhere, I could tell that he was using a minor bardic spell song to convince these soon to be former bodyguards of the wisdom of his suggestion.

  Slowly the man with the broken nose nodded, and he moved across to help his companion with a broken arm to his feet and out the door. Thal waited patiently keeping an eye on them and making sure they were still moving towards the exit. Once they left, he noticeably relaxed, wrapping himself in an almost vicious glee.

  Somehow I knew what he'd done, and it was a mildly impressive example of how bardic magic could be used. I realized then that Thal was not the sort of man who let an opportunity be wasted. Surely he had several other means he could have used to get them out of there. He had chosen to use something he may not have been completely confident would work, because he was using it to also teach me a lesson at the same time. The lesson came through loud and clear, 'this is something you can do.'

  "Now, Archbishop, you have three options here. Since I've never before heard of an Archbishop that didn't have a criminal offense of some sort over his head deciding he needed bodyguards, you can simply admit to me what you've done wrong and flee to England or wherever the Anglican church will allow you to go. So you can either show me what I'm sure you know I'm looking for, or I can strip you and find myself while you aren't struggling, or the final option, I can cut your clothes off from you while you struggle and still find what I'm looking for." By the savage tone, I could tell he wasn't joking. Those were the only options allowed to the Archbishop by him.

  The Archbishop tried to stare my companion down, then he moved as if to bluster and threaten. I looked at him and simply raised an eyebrow and started to hum. I didn't put any meaning or force behind the humming, it just seemed the right thing to do to unnerve the man. Finally, the Archbishop said a string of words that was most un-priestly, leaned over, and lowered his pants. There was a tattooed on his bum of a pair of feathered wings with a dagger through each."

  Thalias's expression took on a grim cast. Holding his hand out backwards to me, he said "Handcuffs." I quickly passed them over and Thalias efficiently and he professionally handcuffed the man. "Your boss is not gonna be happy about this," Thal said conversationally as we took the man down to my car and drove him to have a 'discussion' with Dr Huakoi,

  As we exited the office, and headed to get some dinner, Thal groaned. "Tomorrow is gonna be an awfully long day for me." he said, "You can beg off if you want. Strip searching two to three hundred people looking for a tattoo isn't my idea of fun, nor is it something you signed up for."

  I was still shocked that the complete lack of respect shown towards the Church. I numbly nodded, and wondered what world I'd stepped into. Even more than his attitude towards Dr Huakoi, his attitude towards the clergy secretary, and the Archbishop, had convinced me we weren't playing with the same cards I was used to.

  Chapter 3

  When I arrived at work the next day, Thal was not present and the foul mood that I found Dr Huakoi in suggested I avoid her. I flitted around the office looking for something I could help with and managed to look busy when Dr Huakoi exited her office. Eventually, Nicole took some pity on me and handed me a couple of CDs from her desk drawer. They were marked 'Beginner's spell song'.

  "Go home, listen to these. Try to learn something from them. I'll call you when Thal gets back. He said something about a field trip for you tonight."

  So I did as she suggested, after she promised that any blame for me being absent would not land on me, or her. She seemed fairly confident that the good doctor wouldn't even notice I wasn't around. Apparently, the strip searching that Thal was doing was serious enough that it was most of what was occupying her mind and time. The few people in the office that she had chewed out had been indirectly related to that problem.

  I did learn a few things from listening to the CDs, although whatever 'spell song' the CD labels referred to was mostly dissimilar to my own talents. There was one very useful spell song on the two CDs. I actually picked it up from bits and pieces of three or four of the songs and woven together. It enabled me to form a shield, that would hopefully prevent me from being enthralled by beauty.

  I got the distinct feeling that Nicole felt guilty for enthralling me the day before, and she was going out of her way to make it up to me. I also wondered why a mermaid of any kind would have CDs related to my abilities. I would have to ask Thal that at a later date.

  It was nearly 6 o'clock when Nicole rang to inform me that Thal had finally returned to the office. She also quietly suggested it might be nice if I dress up for him. Apparently he looked disconsolate and exhausted. I hated to think what his day had been like to make him look like that.

  So I turned up to the office. The only one I didn't recognize was in the office was a tall, but decidedly thin, young looking man sitting in the foyer chatting away with the Doorman. None of them were Thal. The man looked tired, but he just didn't look like Thal. I gritted my teeth and said "Have either of you seen Thal?"

  The doorman blinked in surprise, and a throaty chuckle emanated from his chest. I idly thought he may well have a fantastic singing voice, if his language could be improved. Although his language difficulties may be more a nature of his mouth and teeth, as I noticed he had some rather large incisors as he gave his open mouthed chuckle.

  "Music girl, he is right there in front of you."

  The man rolled his eyes at me and sighed. Then he put forth his hand. I started as I recognized the elaborate tattoo on the back of his hand. It was identical to the one that had been on the back of Thal's... Damn, well that explained why they couldn't give me a photo.

  "Well, at least you caught on faster than most. I'll give you credit for that. You're a little more flexible than I feared. That ward you put up is a good start, but it's not strong enough to last more than a day or so. Still, that you could decipher anything from siren song into bardic music is an advantage. Most bards are stuck learning their own patterns, but you seem to be able to adopt and modify. Change of plans. We'll go to Charlie's grill." I grimaced when he said that.

  Charlie's was not the sort of place you took anyone unless you were either amongst a platoon of soldiers or looking for a fight. It was a Soldier's Venue, and they liked it that way. Veterans were welcome also.

  He went through the front door and heads tuned. I tensed as the patrons started to rise in aggressive movement towards us. Several of the patrons were moving to get out of their chairs until the barman waved them back down. "I see you are here for the back section. Sir, Ma'am, this way please." I had never known Charlie's had a back section.

  He waved us through a door, that I had assumed simply led to an alley the o
ne time I'd been called to assist in breaking up an all-out brawl. The door actually lead us into a somewhat ritzy (compared to the front bar) dining and bar area. For a moment I was sure a fight would start here too. Two men and a woman tensed and started to rise upon seeing Thal. Then I noticed the twitching of their noses and realized it must have been his smell. I heard a rumbling growl from his mouth that didn't fit either his body or the voice he'd had earlier, and both men sat down immediately. The woman came up to him and I, looking at him warily.

  "Who and what are you? You haven't registered with the pack. What are you doing with a magic user? Pack sticks to pack here."

  With an almost negligent looking blow with the back of his open hand, he had her gasping for breath on the ground. He then showed her the tattooed on his hand. There was an almost doglike whine out of her mouth. "I'm sorry. So sorry." She babbled. "With the rumors of what happened in the last week, it's just wise to be cautious, isn't it?"

  "You leave me and mine alone, I'll leave you and yours," Thal said with a low, but somehow dominant, growl. "The pack have not been deemed at fault." I could tell there was a subtext I may never understand under the whole interaction.

  He chose a table in a corner, and ordered a kilo of rare steak with roast vegetables. I looked over the menu and couldn't turn down the butterflied lamb cutlets, since Thal had made it clear that he was paying.

  Nervously I asked "Why do you treat so many people with outright disrespect? Especially the Clergy?"

  He glanced at me up and down then gave me something I'd not have expected from him "Well, you just hit on the first part why. I'm a mongrel. Was living on the street from the age of 16. My mother's mother is one of the original three Furies, People fear them, so I wasn't harmed on the streets by supes, but they don't want to get to know them. I was left to survive on my own, with few, long term friends."

  "My mother's father was part werethylacine. Part Gods-know-what. Usually something like a Fury bloodline from one of the three is dominant. So mum should have been a pure Fury, and I should have been female and a Fury. Not many males descended from Gran Alecto, and almost all of them are four generations or further from her in decent."

  "It has to be because of grandpa, but no-one knows why. The old fella died when I was six or seven I think. Most of my memories from before his death were of pain, anyways. He told me a few things, but none of it fits together. Nor does me surviving being touched by Azrael. Dad's family is as mixed as it gets, and that's more than unusual in the Supe world. It's almost unheard of, if only for the fact that supes tend to take after one side or the other in mixed marriages. Oh, plenty of first generation half-breeds have the abilities of both sides, but their children go one way or the other, even if it's a half breed with a half breed."

  I paused. swallowing that chunk of information. The first half of what he said was beyond me, but the second part, that had me curious. Curious and confused. Then the name he'd so casually mentioned jumped out at me, my Catholic education rearing its head. "You expect me to believe that you are touched by the Angel of Death and lived?"

  He looked decidedly sheepish and scratched the back of his head in an uncomfortable manner. Then I could see the blush rising to his cheeks. "Yeah, I know it's pretty unbelievable. That is the truth. So apart from the Azrael bit, that explains why I'm not the nicest of people to those who I don't feel deserving of being treated with open respect. From me personally. Coming into adulthood on the street kinda does that to a person."

  "The second bit of your two questions, as to why I feel such open disrespect for the Clergy, well that would be because of the run-in I had with them while looking after my half-cousin about four months ago. Let's just say the Reformationists tried to turn her and all my female relatives on the other side into sexual slaves for themselves. At least that's how I'm choosing to interpret their actions. So I have no love, and damned little tolerance, for the churches that let that sort of scum form under their protection." I could feel the waves of anger at the memory of whatever happened.

  He continued, in a tone I could tell was one of forced calm, "I don't even want their souls to go Hell. Been there, it wasn't as bad as aging 18 years in two. I just want the Reformationist's souls to cease to be. Oblivion is the only punishment I see as appropriate for them. But I have to work within the structure of the law. Exiling them from where I'm likely to encounter them is a nice compromise from my viewpoint. At least that way I won't be pushed into open slaughter of them."

  I was left a little shamefaced about not realizing there was something behind his disrespect, and not noticing how much sharper his disrespect had been towards clergy. That was a personal hate, and one I doubted I could ever truly emulate or understand. At least not unless I was forced into a similar situation myself. Nor did I feel comfortable with his disrespect for the clergy. Most of them were true believers, who truly did try and build communities. Those that didn't were aberrations. Although I could understand why he disrespected the churches' tendency to sweep its mistakes under the rug. But that wasn't an individual priest or even bishop's fault.

  I got the feeling he didn't care if I did or didn't, as long as I didn't try and stop him from acting in the way he felt was appropriate. There was a long and uncomfortable silence as I processed all the information he had given me so far that night. Eventually he just wouldn't let it sit. "Got anything a bit more cheerful you want to ask about? Especially now I've dealt with all the stupid BS to do with those fuckers? I'll tell you what having to get 300 people to strip down so you can search for tattoos is not anyone's idea of a good time. Considering most of them were male, and I'm relentlessly Het, it was more than a little uncomfortable. I just don't swing that way."

  "You seem almost proud when people call you a Mongrel. Most would take some kind of offense at it. I just don't get it." I blushed a little as I asked the question. He chuckled at it, which put me slightly at ease.

  "Nah, no point. It's The Mongrel, by the way. Think about what I've told you, then why it might have been me that encouraged the name." He looked at me. I could feel that he was testing me. I glared at him. I hated being tested like this. He merely smiled gently and leaned back in his chair.

  Then it hit me like a frozen fish to the face. He was a Were whatever with some of their abilities. He could use Bardic magic. He changed forms like some kind of doppelgänger. It was clear from the caution those in the office had around him that wasn't the limit of his abilities. Abilities from all his ancestors.

  "So what. You take some sort of pride in being the only supernatural Mongrel?" I concluded. He only grinned and nodded with a perverse pride.

  "Yup, only way to be is to take pride in oneself." He answered with a lopsided grin.

  I paused as dinner arrived. The lamb was served with quite a nice, if a little dry, red wine. Apparently a kilo of steak was served with a much larger glass. I glanced at it and he noticed. "Weres tend to have a harder time getting any of alcohol's effects," was his quick response before he dug into his meal. He glanced up every time someone entered the room, and when a woman in particularly fine clothing walked in he made a brief hand signal. She nodded to him, and walked on, but I had to wonder what that was all about.

  It was incredible to find that despite the speed with which he ate, he still managed it neatly. Every time I looked up he was keeping rough pace with me on the fraction of food gone. It was as if he didn't want me to feel forced to slow or speed up. He just kept pace.

  The food was good too – better than most meals I'd had in my life, although Mum's Sunday roast was still better. After we finished our meals with a companionable silence, and feeling a little more mellow after the wine, I had to ask him what his issue with Dr Huakoi was.

  He raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair closing his eyes as if collecting his thoughts. Finally he broke his silence "There aren't any Ancients, or any leaders of the larger factions, in New Zealand. Never have been. There are some powerful creatures mind, but not an
y who wish to play on that level. So your Offices of the Weird have taken it upon themselves to mystically bind the loyalty of any supernatural who has an awakening, but no family to teach them. I find the practice objectionable. Most people just don't care. But the binding is a form of slavery and I won't have it if they want my help. That was what you saw earlier. I was simply bargaining for you to be treated as an equal. I might call in the favor you owe me or I might not. I'll definitely call in the favor she owes me at some point. Having a grandmother who is an Ancient tends to give me an edge in dealings like that."

  "Do many supernaturals object to that arrangement?" I asked curiously, still feeling out that he'd felt obligated to me for some reason. Strongly enough to make sure I wasn't bound to an organization without my knowledge.

  "Nah, when they can train someone, they train them to the best of their abilities. New Zealand doesn't have much experience with Bards though. What I did was also a favor to her organization. There are factions, especially amongst the Fae, that would take extreme offense to a Bard being mystically bound to someone or something. They just trap them in the realms of Fairy while they receive their training and dump them out anywhere up to a thousand years later Earth time," he said with artful irony, clearly giving his opinion that there was no real difference between the two alternatives. Then he scowled angrily, and explained "That can be a horrendous pain to cover up."

  "But the point is, your Office of Weird doesn't have any real competition offering training for the newly awakened. So they can usually get away with what they do. After all, most newly awakened soon realize the danger in going alone." I raised an eyebrow at that, so he continued. "Too much they don't know about the new world they find themselves in." I slowly nodded in unhappy agreement. Over the last day or so, it had become obvious to me that there was a lot going on I just didn't understand.