A Brush With Death

by Stokes, S. C.

  “You're a witch giving the first official interview in modern times, Kasey. I don't think anyone is going to be changing the channel.”

  Vida appeared from his office, carrying an arm full of Kasey's clothes. “Here you go. I'm getting my closet space back an inch at a time.”

  “I missed you too, Vida,” Kasey replied. “I'm going to slip into these, fix my hair, and try to gather my thoughts for this interview. Any chance you can help me with an escort and some security?”

  Bishop nodded. “Absolutely. We’re not going to let you feed yourselves to the wolves. If they want you, they're going to have to come through the Fighting Ninth.”

  If there was one thing Kasey had been grateful for since joining the Ninth Precinct, it was her friends. She had never had many growing up and her time at college hadn't really changed that. Given, she'd been pretty scarred by her time at the Academy and mostly kept to herself, she’d formed a habit that was hard to break.

  Here at the Fighting Ninth, she had found her first real home. They might not have known all her secrets, but its officers had put their lives on the line for her and she for them a dozen times. Bishop and Vida were family, and their support meant the world to her.

  Knowing Bishop had her back helped calm her heart which hadn't stopped pounding since she had got off the phone to the news station. She hated the thought of putting her friends in danger, but unlike many of her hastily executed decisions, she had thought this one through. It was the best chance she had of making a difference. It had to be done.

  “Thanks, guys. I'll be right back.”

  “Meet me in the lobby,” Bishop said. “I'll be marshalling the troops.”

  “Will do.” Kasey pushed open the doors to the morgue and made her way to the bathroom down the hall.

  She headed for a stall and locked the door. She didn't have much time. The station would have its own regular programming and while they had some discretion, it doubtless had its limitations.

  Fortunately, the interview had just gotten started, so she still had some time provided she didn't dawdle. She tore off her suit and pulled on a set of black jeans, a white T-shirt, and her spare leather jacket. It wasn't her favorite; that one was still in her locker at council headquarters, but it would have to do. She didn't have a change of shoes, so she simply kept the boots she had been wearing. Rolling the suit up, she jammed it under her arm and opened the stall.

  This next part she needed the help of the mirror for. Kasey looked at the long blonde hair in her reflection and smiled. It'd been nice while it lasted but the city knew her as a brunette.

  Whispering a word of power, she ran her fingers through her hair. Everywhere they touched, arcane energy pulsed through her hair, returning it to its former color. She started at the back and contemplated leaving a strip of blond at the front of her hair but figured Rogue did that look far better than she could manage, so she colored it too. It took a few minutes to make sure she hadn't missed any spots, but soon she was satisfied.

  She didn't want to cart the suit around with her, so she stashed it on the chair by the morgue. It wasn't exactly the most frequented part of the station, so it should still be there when she got back.

  She rode the elevator to the lobby and found Bishop in a bulletproof vest huddled with a group of a dozen officers.

  As Kasey approached, Bishop handed her an earpiece. “Wear this. If there is any trouble, we can let you know immediately.”

  Bishop helped Kasey fit the tiny piece of technology into her ear. It had a small mic which they fitted to her lapel that would help her be heard by the team.

  The officers gathered around her. If they had any hesitation about putting their lives on the line, it didn’t show.

  Bishop held up a bulletproof vest. “This too. We’re not taking any chances.”

  Kasey slipped out of her jacket and strapped on the vest, before fitting her jacket back over the top and zipping it up. With any luck, any would-be assassins would shoot her in the chest.

  “Hope springs eternal,” Kasey muttered.

  “What was that?” Bishop asked.

  “Nothing,” Kasey replied. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

  Bishop led the way out of the station and Kasey was surprised when she didn’t head for the parking lot. Instead, she strode over to the armored troop carrier. Its rear doors were open.

  “Like I said, no chances,” Bishop said, her tone serious as she pointed to the carrier. “Let’s go.”

  They loaded up, and the transport moved out, in a convoy with a handful of police sedans as escorts.

  The trip passed in silence as Kasey used the time to consider what she might say. The questions Stan asked could slant things her way or turn the audience against her. Kasey hoped her popularity might buy her some assistance from the host. No one enjoyed the town hero being kicked in the teeth, and whether she was a witch or not, she’d saved the city. That had to count for something.

  Before she knew it, the convoy came to a halt, and the officers piled out, forming a perimeter. Kasey stepped down out of the transport.

  A crowd had already formed at the front of the building. Clearly someone had leaked what was happening.

  Flanked by Bishop and her escort, Kasey was guided through the crowd, a dense wall of men and muscle between her and any threats. The crowd muttered something, but Kasey couldn’t quite tell what they were saying. There was simply too much noise.

  Bishop guided her up the stone steps and into the church. The building itself was a small stone affair that looked like it was better suited to an earlier century than this one. Its gothic architecture reminded her of old European cathedrals, and inside it was all exposed stone walls and red carpets. Timber pews formed lines where congregants would sit when it wasn’t being used to host interviews.

  At the front of the rectangular room sat three chairs. Two of them faced each other. The third was in the middle, and Kasey recognized its occupant, Stan Goodman. He was in his early fifties, with a head of sandy brown hair that looked like it had come from a bottle.

  Beside him sat the preacher, dressed all in black, but for his collar. His complexion was fair, and his black hair was styled in a similar manner to Stan’s.

  Both of them looked at her like they were staring at a Sasquatch.

  Kasey strode down the center aisle, ignoring the film crew and a handful of congregants scattered in the pews.

  Stan rose from his chair and flashed her a smile of pearly whites. “Kasey Chase, so good of you to join us.”

  Kasey extended her hand, forcing Stan to do the same, and she shook it vigorously.

  “Stan, it’s good to be here. Thanks for having me.”

  Kasey turned to the preacher and offered her hand.

  He didn’t move a muscle. Kasey raised her hands and shrugged as she sank into the empty chair. She stared at the priest, her eyes finding his. There was only enmity there. Not wanting him to gain the upper hand, she flashed him a smile.

  Let the games begin.

  Chapter Eleven

  Stan Goodman flashed the camera crew a thousand-megawatt smile and returned to his interview.

  “Welcome back, New York City, and do I have a treat for you. In this blockbuster TV exclusive, I have Kasey Chase, the hero of New York City, giving her first interview since the attack in December. Kasey, welcome!”

  Kasey stared at the camera. The church only had two dozen congregants in it, but out there, there could be millions watching her. The nerves came hard and fast. Uncomfortable little butterflies twisted her stomach into knots as she reconsidered the wisdom of her chosen course of action. She had faced vampires and the Master of the Shinigami, but all these people stared at her. What had she been thinking?

  Kasey placed her hands in her lap, in the hope that her nerves wouldn't show.

  “Thanks for having me, Stan. It's, uh, a pleasure to be here.”

  Stan leaned towards her, resting his elbow on the armrest of the chair. “Now tell me
, Kasey. We have reached out for interviews many times without success, but tonight you called us. What changed?”

  It was a good question, one she had been hoping for as it gave her sufficient latitude to steer the interview.

  “Well, in the wake of the attack on the city, everybody wanted to talk to me about that video footage. They called me a hero and offered to pay me for my story, but the truth is there were many heroes that day. Countless men and women lost their lives so that we could all be here today. I thought it would be disrespectful to be on TV lapping up attention and praise while their families mourned their loss.”

  “You’re here now. What changed?” Stan asked.

  “I saw your interview, Stan. I saw you give a platform to this man. A man whom I have never met, nor harmed in any way. Who goes about the city, spreading hate and division, and I couldn't allow it to go unanswered.”

  “Hate and division?” the preacher said. “Interesting labels for common sense and caution.”

  “Reverend Fisher, you will have your chance to speak. Please, let her finish,” Stan interjected.

  Kasey tried hard not to grin at the little victory. Stan certainly seemed eager to let her speak her mind, so she took advantage of it.

  “I know it is easy to fear something you don't understand, Stan, it’s one of the reasons I came on your show. You, and your viewers, have lived in a world and believed it to be one way, only to discover that it isn’t the case and powers you don't understand are all around you. It's a difficult thing to grow used to and the Reverend would exploit your fear and his position of authority to stir you up into a righteous frenzy. But I want to remind you of a truth he is conveniently ignoring.”

  “What's that, Kasey?” Stan asked.

  Kasey raised her hands palms outward. “We've been here all along. The supernatural world isn't a recent occurrence. We've been living among you the whole time, hiding our existence to preserve your peace of mind, all the while protecting mankind from dangers you believed only existed in Hollywood movies. The truth is, so much of the monsters you see in movies are not the clever imagination of talented writers, but the recounting of the world as it truly is. Fictions and fables loaded with tales of ancient gods and mighty legends are more fact than fantasy, but humanity has always preferred to disbelieve the truth. We have done our best to accommodate that desire. We hide who we are, so that you can feel safe. Now that is no longer an option, and you have to decide how you are going to react. Are you going to let men like this”—Kasey pointed at the Reverend—”fill you with fear and hate, or are you going to show him that we can celebrate our differences and build a stronger society for all of us to enjoy?”

  Stan nodded along with Kasey.

  “Stirring words,” he said. “What do you think about that, Reverend?”

  The preacher laughed. “They have hidden their existence and the scope of their power for centuries. Now that they have been caught, they want us to trust them. Ridiculous. The Bible says we should not suffer a witch to live, and I am inclined to agree with it.”

  “Oh, so murder is all right then?” Kasey replied. “You seem to be happy to pick and choose which parts of the Bible you'd like to follow. Let's not use the good book to justify your discomfort.”

  The preacher pointed a finger straight at Kasey. “What about the wizard you killed? The one who was trying to destroy the city. Should we just sit around and wait for that to happen again?”

  “So, you would harm millions because of one bad egg?” Kasey asked.

  “Millions?” Stan asked. “There are millions of you?”

  “Across the world, yes,” Kasey replied, leaning forward in her chair. “All living peacefully as they strive to protect you from a supernatural world you don't understand.”

  Stan's mouth flapped open, his eyes wide. For the first time Kasey had ever seen, he was speechless.

  Kasey looked around the church. Bishop and half a dozen police officers stood around the room watching her. On the church pews and scattered throughout the room, perhaps two dozen parishioners listened to the interview. Their faces were neutral.

  “Only last week we discovered a coven of vampires had taken up residence in the city,” Kasey said.

  “Vampires, what nonsense,” the preacher replied. “You expect us to believe that?”

  “I expect you to keep an open mind,” Kasey replied, opening her palm. “Before December, you would have considered this impossible. Pêl Tân.”

  An orb of fire flickered into existence above Kasey's outstretched hand.

  Stan almost fell off his chair as he tried to shimmy backward away from the blaze.

  The flames hovered neatly over her outstretched palm before Kasey closed it, extinguishing them.

  “Sorry about that, Stan. I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to make a point.”

  “More like demonstrate your power to drive us into submission,” the preacher replied.

  Kasey studied the audience. There was a mixture of concern and fear on their faces. Her little demonstration hadn't quite hit the mark.

  “For what?” Kasey asked. “You want people to fear us. You would love to use magic as an excuse to fill your churches and pay your wages. But the truth is, magic isn't evil. How do you think miracles are wrought? They are beautiful expressions of the power of creation, magic used to bless people's lives. I was born this way. I wasn't made in the lab. I didn't enter into dark bargains with occult powers. I was born a witch and I've used my talents, such as they are, to try and protect the people of this city. You can try to twist that, but tens of millions of people have seen footage for themselves. I wasn't being paid to fight that wizard. I did it because I could, I did it because, if I didn't, others would die. And I would do it again. We are not evil, Stan. Don't let this man portray one aberration as the norm. You have a responsibility to show people the truth.”

  “I take that seriously,” Stan replied. “Why do you think you are here?”

  “I appreciate the opportunity,” Kasey said, leaning back in her chair. “Is there anything else you would like to know? I mean, I'm sure you have hundreds of questions, and honestly I'm probably not the best person to answer most of them. But I'm happy to try.”

  Stan looked down at his watch and back to Kasey. “I can't go past the mention of vampires and not ask a follow-up question.”

  Kasey nodded. “What would you like to know?”

  “What were they doing in the city?” Stan asked.

  “Vampires are a parasite,” Kasey replied. “Where other supernatural beings seek to live in harmony with the world, vampires feed off it. They see you and me as little more than cattle. Food to be consumed as their next meal. The wizarding world fights vigorously to try and protect mankind from this threat. We found a small group of the creatures active within the city. Among other things, they were abducting people and harvesting their organs. We put a stop to it.”

  “So vampires are bad and witches are good?” the preacher asked. “Are you not now using your platform to do exactly what you accused me of?”

  Kasey hadn't thought of it like that, and untrue as it might be, it did appear on the surface a valid point.

  “I know what I've seen,” Kasey replied. “I walked through the slaughterhouse, saw their victims, and killed their master. If we hadn't stopped them, more people would have been butchered.”

  “We have only your word for that,” the preacher replied.

  Kasey considered refuting the point—she had plenty of witnesses—but last thing she wanted to do was mention Bishop on live TV and put a target on her back. The Feudal Court was already on the warpath.

  “I have history on my side,” Kasey replied, “and I know a monster when I see one.”

  “Kasey,” a voice whispered in her ear. It was coming through her comms unit. “Things are getting louder out here. The crowd seems to be growing more vocal. We're trying to clear a path but perhaps you should consider concluding the interview now.”

/>   It had to be one of the Ninth Precinct officers. Kasey looked at the faces of the people in the church. One or two of them smiled back at her, but the majority looked at her with cold, impassive eyes. She only hoped that she was faring better with the people at home. She wanted to stay, but the last thing she needed was a riot. She also didn't want any of the officers to be harmed while they were trying to keep her alive. With the bounty on her head, it really wasn't prudent to stay in one place too long.

  The clock on the wall behind the pulpit, showed the time was a couple of minutes to the hour. The program had to be just about wrapping up anyway.

  “Sorry, Stan, but there appears to be some trouble outside. I don't want to cause any issues so I might have to call it there. Thank you for the opportunity.

  Stan smiled but the preacher, his voice heavy with a sneer, interjected. “Looks like the people of New York City can see through your lies, Miss Chase. They're coming for you.”

  Kasey leaned forward in her chair, her eyes locked on the preacher's. “I hope not. I've spent my life protecting them and don't want to see any of them harmed. But if someone comes for me, I will defend myself. I may be a witch, but I have the same rights as everyone else.”

  “You heard it here first,” the reverend replied. “Best stay out of her way if you value your well-being. I find it disturbing that the police seem to be encouraging this brand of vigilante justice.”

  He swept his hand around the room, pointing at the heavy police presence. A few of the parishioners stood up, a little wary of the police encircling the small chamber of the church.

  “An interesting point, Reverend Fisher, but I'm afraid that's all we have time for tonight. I hope you've enjoyed this exclusive interview. Kasey, Reverend, we will have to do this again sometime.” Stan looked at the camera and flashed a smile. “In the meantime, it's good night, New York!”