by Ramsey Isler
Spies in the Dark
The Nightcrafters - Book 2
by
RAMSEY ISLER
copyright Ramsey Isler. © 2016. All rights reserved.
www.ramseyisler.com
cover design copyright
2016 Ramsey Isler. Photography (altered) by emeraldrose
https://www.flickr.com/photos/emeraldrose/5119227095
Creative Commons license CC BY 2.0
(https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Chapter 1
The most powerful force in the dark is not magic. It’s fear.
Night is the mother of all of mankind’s fears. Early humans, unable to master even fire, must have been scared witless every night. On a moonless evening, the ancient darkness must have been smothering. Our ancestors were made weak and vulnerable by the night.
The dark steals our sight from us. Vision is our most valuable sense, and without it we are no longer at the top of the food chain. Take away our sight and we suffer a crippling inability to understand the world around us, and we fear what we do not understand.
But then we found fire. Fire brought us light. Light brought us information, information brought us understanding, and understanding brought us control. Control made us brave.
I have no control over the situation I find myself in now.
As I stare through this two-way glass and look at my former mentor held captive in a room bathed in brilliant light, I am left unable to understand him. I can’t understand how a man who had been so kind to me could be so callous about the lives of others. I can’t understand how he would gladly sacrifice my life for the sake of the Rift, something that puts millions in danger and only benefits a select few.
I feel so many different conflicting emotions now. I’m happy that I caught Kellar. More than happy, I’m ecstatic. The adrenaline rush of the capture operation lasted hours, and kept me wide awake even though I’d been running without sleep for far too long. But there was also an undeniable sadness lurking in me, and a nagging regret that maybe I’ve screwed up royally. There’s something else there too, and it took me hours to figure out what it was. No, I take that back. I always knew what it was. It just took me a while to fully, consciously accept it.
I felt like I’d betrayed him.
And maybe I had. But every time a pang of guilt wormed its way into my heart I thought about that little school in Springfield about to be engulfed by the spread of the Rift, and the guilt lessened. It never went away completely though.
I’m not sure I can control my own emotions when it comes to Kellar, and I’m certainly not sure how long we can control him in this prison. I am looking for answers to illuminate the uncertainty I feel, but those answers still elude me. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next.
I’m in the dark here, and that is what makes me afraid.
* * *
“Go in there and convince him.” That’s what Dominique told me to do. She said it like it would be as mundane as asking a boss for a raise, or selling a car to some chump who walked onto the lot. Of course she knew that what she wanted would be extremely difficult. But saying that wouldn’t have been of any help, so she just pretended like I knew what I was doing. Maybe if I did the same, I could get through this with some sort of progress.
Kellar’s cell was located in an old warehouse in Connecticut; an entirely different location than Madison’s. We had originally planned to put both of them in cells outside of the Rift zone, but numerous discussions with Dominique and Newton led to the conclusion that we still had much more to learn about what it takes to defeat a nightcrafter in their own element. And it was quite possible that Kellar would never crack under interrogation, which would mean our only use for him would be experimentation with his advanced abilities. Our project couldn’t afford to lose the opportunity to keep the greatest nightcrafter in the world as a lab rat, even if that meant risking the possibility he might get loose and kill us all.
The nightcrafter prison cells had become a great source of pride in our tiny little department. Newton and his team had started calling them “lightboxes”, and others were following suit. As an amateur photographer, I appreciated the term. Lightboxes in product photography are used to provide perfect lighting from all sides for the object you’re shooting. Now that I think about it, it makes sense that my photography hobby might have influenced me when I came up with the designs for the cell, but I wasn’t consciously thinking of it at the time.
Maintaining two separate lightboxes created a number of logistical problems, but it was the best way to avoid putting all our eggs in one basket, so to speak. I’m not sure how Dominique put together the funding for two elaborate prisons that were only good for holding nightcrafters, and I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know.
Although Kellar’s lightbox was in a different spot, it was an exact replica of the one we’d designed for Madison. She had been locked up tight for weeks, so we figured if it ain’t broke don’t try to fix it. Both lightboxes had the same gigantic steel doors that looked like they came from Fort Knox. The cells also had the same transparent plastic furniture, and the same high-powered lamps beaming intense light from the floors and ceilings. As I stepped into Kellar’s cell, I thought about how ridiculous he looked in the white translucent leotard that served as his only clothing. Madison wore it much better.
Kellar saw me and his face didn’t change. I had expected a scowl, or an evil smile. But he just looked at me . . . looked through me. My resolve faltered for a second, but I found it again. I had to decide who I was more afraid of — Dominique or Kellar. At the moment, I was more concerned about the person who wasn’t imprisoned.
“Cooperation is the only way you get out of here,” I told Kellar as I sat in a clear plastic chair about six feet from him. My voice was strong and steady, which was a surprise to me.
“What do you want me to . . . cooperate with?” Kellar asked, his face still portraying no emotion.
“We’re going to close the Rift.”
I was hoping that would provoke some kind of reaction out of him. But Kellar’s stoic mask stayed in place. He just kept staring at me with steely eyes.
“Are you going to say anything?” I asked.
“Who are you working with?” Kellar said. “Corporation? Government? A jilted billionaire who could never get into the nightcrafter club?”
“Who I’m working with doesn’t matter,” I said. “This is about the Rift. It’s killing people. You know about the creatures that come out of the dark. The nachtjäger, the pincers, the inkwells.”
“All rare creatures,” Kellar said. “Most of them are harmless. The nachtjäger are an exception.”
“You know that’s not true,” I said. “I personally saw a man almost die from an inkwell squirt in the face.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Kellar said. “But uncommon.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I nearly screamed. “It happens every day. You know this. Magic has been killing people. We have to stop it.”
Kellar did not seem convinced. “Kill me or let me go,” he said, “but I’m not helping you close the Rift.”
“And why not?” I
asked.
“Because the situation is not what you think it is.”
“It isn’t?” I said. “Then tell me how it really is. Tell me what you told Madison. Tell me about all the good things the nightcrafters do in the world while their exclusive little club endangers millions of lives.”
“What we do is necessary,” Kellar said, stressing that last word so much that spittle hit the floor. “There are things you don’t know, things you would’ve learned if you had continued your training.”
I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair. “Enlighten me.”
“Not here.”
I laughed. “Is that some attempt to get me to take you out of this room? That was weak, man.”
“I don’t need to trick you to get out of here,” Kellar said. “You can’t keep me here for long.”
“Oh, I think we can. But if you want out, all you need to do is tell me how to close the Rift.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You rot here,” I said.
Kellar smiled, and it gave me shivers. “Stupid boy. Do you really think whoever you’re working for is just going to let me sit here for the rest of my natural life? Do you think they’re going to risk having me around for any longer than absolutely necessary?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t.”
“So you realize what might happen to me,” Kellar said.
“There are a lot of possibilities,” I said. “I’ve considered them all. Every single one of them is acceptable in exchange for the safety of millions of people. Even what they might do to you.”
“So you’re willing to see me dead in exchange for what you believe in.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Then tell me,” Kellar said, “how are you any different from me?”
Wasn’t expecting that one. I paused for a moment, trying to find the right words to recover from a confrontation that I suddenly felt like I was losing.
“We’re both willing to make sacrifices,” I said. “That’s true. But the difference between us is that I’m willing to make sacrifices for other people, not my own gain.”
Kellar shook his head sadly. “That was always your problem, Kalani. You’ve always wanted to do the right thing instead of the smart thing.” He turned away from me, and I knew Kellar wasn’t going to talk anymore. So I left the cell. Dominique was waiting for me on the other side of the two-way mirror.
“That went about as well as it could,” Dominique said. “Fairly standard for a first interrogation session. Pretty much the same as I’d expect from anyone.”
“No,” I said. “Kellar is different.”
“For now,” Dominique said. “He won’t be any different from anyone else once we close the Rift. He’ll just be another average man.”
“Not a chance,” I said. “Even without the Rift, he’ll never be average.”
CHAPTER 2
I went home after that chat with Kellar. Home these days was a cozy triangular pre-fab house plopped on top of a building in Manhattan. It was isolated, but beautiful. My “yard” was a patch of topsoil with grass that had just recently been planted on top of the roof’s concrete. My view of the sky was almost completely unobstructed, with just a few other neighboring rooftops below me. I’d only been here for a few days, but I was getting used to this odd style of living on top of the world.
I grabbed a skinny chair from the dining room and stuck it in the yard so I could end the day with open sky above my head. I was watching a flock of birds fly in formation behind a few buildings in the distance when my work phone rang. I knew it was Newton because I’d assigned him his own ring tone. I’d originally done it to differentiate his calls from Dominique’s, so I could have a few extra seconds to get my mind right for the very different types of conversations I had with those two. After a few days, I noticed that Dominique’s ring tone usually provoked a sense of anxiety in me. Understandable, given that she never called with good news. But whenever I hear the stupid xylophone tune that I assigned to Newton, I get this fluttery feeling in my gut. It’s a little bit of anxiety, but there’s something else there too.
I pulled the phone from my pocket, hit the answer button and said, “Tell me something good.”
“Cheesecake is on sale at the bakery down the street from the office,” Newton said playfully. “Limited time only.”
“I know what I’m having for lunch tomorrow,” I said. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to let you know I reviewed the video from your interrogation session with Kellar.”
“Is that your idea of a fun evening?”
“Not really,” Newton said. “But I find that I can do my job better when I’m aware of as much as possible. Anyways, I noticed that Kellar mentioned something about the nightcrafter work being necessary. You have any thoughts on that?”
“Not really,” I said. “Seemed like the usual prisoner bullshit tactics to me. Dominique didn’t seem to notice anything odd about it either.”
“Nevertheless,” Newton said, “I think it’s worth looking into. I’ll let you know if I turn up anything.”
“I don’t think you will,” I said. “But thanks.”
“How are you doing, by the way?” Newton asked. “I haven’t seen you outside the office since you moved.”
“Things are okay,” I said. “Just sitting in my fortress of solitude.”
“Ah yes,” Newton said. “The new crib. Is it lonely living in a house perched on top of the city?”
“A little.”
“Hm. Want some company?”
“Am I allowed to have company?” I asked. “Isolation was part of the reason I got put here.”
“True, but it’s me. We’re partners.”
I thought about it for a second. Newton had become the one part of my life that wasn’t dangerous or falling apart. “Okay. Come on over. It’s hard to get up here, though. No elevator, but there’s a private staircase. Twenty floors of stairs. Tough to do without magic.”
“I’ll be fine,” Newton said. “I could use some exercise. I’ll call you when I’m there.”
I hung up and took a deep breath of the evening air. Company would be good. I needed to relax. I needed to get the troubles of the world out of my mind for a bit and just be myself, even if I wasn’t sure what being myself really meant anymore. It wasn’t long ago that I was just a night watchman using my job to practice basic spells. And a short time before that I was just a boy — an angry and lost boy who had no idea what the world outside of high school was like. The past few years had gone by in a blur, and I desperately wanted some kind of anchor to slow things down for a bit so I could get my bearings. Newton was the closest thing I had.
I was lost in thought for a few minutes before the tinny xylophone tune rang again. There was no way Newton was at my place already. I answered and said, “Do you need directions?”
“Kal, I’m coming to pick you up.” Newton’s voice was flat and serious and lacking any of the playfulness from just a few minutes ago. “We have to go to the lightbox. Now.”
“Why?” I asked. “What happened?”
“Kellar just escaped.”
* * *
There was only a crater where the lightbox used to be. No smoke. No wreckage. No debris. Just a perfect hemisphere carved into the ground. It was like a giant with a huge ice cream scoop had dug up a piece of the city and carried it off somewhere.
Newton and I observed the scene from Newton’s car. Once we had cleared the secured perimeter and the two dozen men in black guarding it, we rolled up to the crater slowly and stopped. I think we just stared at it for a couple minutes in silence before I finally spoke up.
“How many people did we lose?” I asked.
“Just one,” Newton said with a heavy sigh. “He was unlucky.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know for sure yet,” Newton said. He grabbed his laptop from the backseat, opened it, and started typing away. “But initial reports suggest that Do
minique screwed up. I’m pulling up the remote recording of the surveillance system now.”
“Where is Dominique anyway?”
“My guess is that she’s updating the PDs on the situation.”
“PDs?” I asked. “Police departments?”
“Plausible Deniers,” Newton said. “They’re the people who Dominique actually reports to but they aren’t in any way officially linked to our team. That way, if things go wrong they have plausible deniability and can put all the blame on Dominique.”
“And what happens after that?” I asked.
“Well,” Newton said, “we will just have to see. Hey, I just got the feed of the escape. Going to play it now.”
The recording started playing footage from the beginning of the day, according to a running clock overlaid on the screen in the bottom right corner of the video. Kellar was alone in the lightbox, seated on the floor in the lotus position with his eyes open and focused on nothing in particular. Newton fast forwarded to the footage from an hour ago, and another man had appeared in the cell with Kellar. This guy was dressed in the same translucent fabric Kellar was wearing, but he was armed with a handgun.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“The guy we lost in this . . . incident,” Newton said. “His name’s Chad Brockton. Dominique brought him in to intimidate detainees.”
“Why?”
“She wanted to see if Kellar could be intimidated, and Brockton seemed perfect for the job. His personnel file listed a number of violent youthful indiscretions up until he turned eighteen and his parents shipped him off to the Army to set him straight. But I think his time in the service just made him crazier. Put a guy like him in an environment where aggression and an eagerness to blow up shit are considered valuable assets, and you end up with one of the world’s greatest douchebags. But he was useful for making people uncomfortable enough to say important things by mistake.”
“So Dominique ordered him to go in there and try to make Kellar talk?”