Mystique's Journey

by Daniel A. Jones

  “How you doing?”

  “We haven’t crashed yet,” Daemon replied with a chuckle. Angelica could feel the tension he was under and wanted to help but she had no idea what she could do.

  Angelica had an idea and started unbuckling the pilot. She used a bit more care than Daemon had shown with the copilot as she hauled him out of his seat and back into the passenger compartment. Once the seat was empty, she climbed in and took the headset from its hanger and put it on. “Hello. Can anybody hear me?” Angelica asked into the microphone.

  “This is a private channel; identify yourself immediately,” a male voice instructed her.

  “This is Angelica Grayson on the New Sydney shuttle. We had some trouble. The pilot and copilot are both dead. We need help flying this thing.” Angelica let a little panic slip into her voice, hoping it would convince whoever she was talking to that they were really in trouble.

  “This is Lieutenant Nicholson of the NSN Perth. Are you injured, Miss Grayson?” came a new voice. The new person had a stronger, more authoritative voice. Angelica guessed that one of the ranking officers had taken over the conversation.

  “No, but my brother is the closest thing we have to a pilot and he’s never flown a shuttle before. Is there anything you can do?” Angelica replied.

  “Yes, is the auto pilot engaged, or is he flying on manual?” Lt. Nicholson asked.

  “Manual,” Daemon replied, having put the copilot’s headset on. He’d been so focused on figuring out how to fly he’d forgotten about calling for help.

  “Good. I want you to look for an orange-an-red striped box in the middle of the command council between the two pilots. It is an inch wide and three inches long.”

  “I see it,” Angelica answered.

  “Good. Open it. There is a latch on the bottom. The cover will flip up to reveal a red switch. Push the switch forward, which will allow us to take control of the shuttle and fly you up,” Lt. Nicholson explained. Angelica found the calm strength in his voice reassuring. She reached over and flicked the switch into the up position. The shuttle jerked forward a little and the left side dipped before coming back to level.

  “We have you now. You can relax. Are there any injured onboard?”

  “Four of the guards are dead and Daemon was shot,” Angelica started to explain.

  “Twice!” Daemon exclaimed, breaking into Angelica’s explanation.

  “Three of the guards and the copilot tried to hijack the shuttle. They killed the pilot and one of the other guards. Cynthia and the waitress are shaken up but uninjured.”

  “Her name’s Christine,” Daemon told Angelica.

  “The flight is going to take about seventeen minutes. How bad are your brother’s wounds?”

  “He’ll live,” Angelica replied, not wanting to say too much more since she had no idea who was listening.

  “I’ll have a trauma teem standing by in the hangar when you land,” Lt. Nicholson informed them. Angelica decided she would like to meet Lt. Nicholson in person. She was really beginning to like the sound of his voice.

  ***

  Mystique stood on the edge of the roof watching the people below. The street lights illuminated the sidewalks well enough for her to make out the faces of anyone that happened to look up. As she stood there, she realized how fitting it was—she felt like an outsider, never really a part of society. Even in a crowded classroom, she felt alone; the others around her had no meaning. From time to time she would find someone useful, but even then she didn’t feel any connection to them. She’d lived that way for as long as she could remember and she’d never realized she was broken.

  It’d all changed when she met Angelica. Mystique started to connect to people and understand what it meant to enjoy someone’s company. She really liked Angelica and Daemon. They knew her past and didn’t treat her badly because of it. Daemon made jokes but he never meant any harm. Mystique even thought differently about people she knew when she was around Angelica. She knew that it was probably because of something Angelica was doing to her, but she didn’t care. It allowed her to feel more than indifference and annoyance toward other people.

  Mystique’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of gravel moving behind her. Mystique looked around to see Shektee shifting forms into the dark-haired woman she had been using lately. On the ground at her feet were Mystique’s bags, so she went over to retrieve them.

  “Any trouble?” Mystique asked as she opened the bag with her clothing and handed Shektee something to wear.

  “No, the driver is weak-willed and will do whatever I ask,” Shektee replied as she took the offered clothing and started to get dressed.

  “How often do you have to eat, and do you always eat like you did on the other roof?” Mystique asked Shektee calmly.

  “I have not had a lot of practice feeding in this dimension. I drink human life energy. All I need to do is get my mouth in contact with skin in order to start drinking. The contact can be as soft as a kiss or as hard as a bite; causing strong emotions during feeding adds flavor like the spices you add to your meals. I want to feed all the time but I understand the need for restraint. I have learned enough control to take only enough energy to render a person unconscious. Why do you ask?”

  “I thought it best to know if you were going to enter a feeding frenzy every time you fed. That lead me to wonder how often you need to feed because I also figured that the hungrier you are, the more likely you are to frenzy,” Mystique explained.

  “I understand your concern. Do you have requirements you want me to follow about who I feed on and how?” Shektee asked, expecting Mystique to make some foolish demands she would have to obey.

  “No, not really. I would appreciate it, if the person had anything to do with forcing girls into prostitution, that you make sure they died screaming,” Mystique replied indifferently.

  Shektee was a little surprised at Mystique’s answer. “Are you sure that is what you want?”

  “Yes. As far as I’m concerned, whoever has the bad luck of being your dinner is up to you. If you’re waiting for me to tell you no killing innocent people or something like that, I’m not. Life isn’t fair and it doesn’t matter if you’re innocent or not; sometimes it just screws you,” Mystique explained. “And the prostitution part is a personal vendetta thing.”

  “Interesting. What about Angelica’s request that I do most of the killing? I noticed your reaction.”

  “I thought about that. I don’t need to kill anyone. I just need to be sure they’re dead. You can do most of the killing; just don’t expect me to avoid killing anyone,” Mystique replied, reflectively thinking about her decision.

  “I thought it would be agreeable working with you. You are very smart for a human,” Shektee stated meaning to give Mystique a compliment, but instead all she did was remind Mystique that she thought of humans as unintelligent prey.

  “The first thing we need is a base to work from. I don’t know about you, but I have to sleep and it would be nice to be able to feel safe while I do. I have some money to rent a place, but that would leave a trail someone could use to find us. Got any ideas?” Mystique asked, changing the subject.

  “I am not familiar with many human customs. I’ll need some time to learn how to interact in this society without causing problems. I’m sorry I cannot be of help. As for your first question, I do not sleep the same way you do. I need to meditate to give my mind time to rest, that’s all,” Shektee explained a little annoyed and embarrassed that she had to admit her lack of ability. In her society, weakness or lack of ability, could get you quickly killed or enslaved.

  “Are you still aware of what’s going on around you?”

  “Yes. Being surprised is normally a fatal mistake.”

  “Good, if nothing else, we can stay on one of the rooftops for a few days. Major Castleman said it was best to hold the high ground in any fight,” Mystique said as she walked toward the edge to look at the city skyline. The building they were on was too cl
ose to the school. She needed to find something similar in the entertainment district. Prostitutes were a form of entertainment after all, so they should be able to find some there.

  “We should head to the entertainment district. The hotels in that area should work until we find a better spot,” Mystique explained before climbing over the edge. Shektee walked over and watched as Mystique skillfully climbed down the building. When she was almost to the bottom, Shektee hopped over the edge and dropped to the ground. Human legs would have shattered with the impact of such a drop but Shektee simply dipped her shoulders a little. Mystique shook her head in amazement at the sight. She hoped nobody else had seen it.

  ***

  Captain Zeler waited patiently for the airtight door to cycle open. The shuttle had landed without incident and was now sitting safely in his boat bay. He had a hard time believing that Ensign Davis had shot Lt. Jg. Philips. What was the man thinking? Even if he’d gotten away with it, his life would be ruined.

  The door finally cycled open, allowing him access. Captain Zeler marched out to meet his passengers. He was not happy about being turned into a taxi for some wench that had the ambassador convinced she was important. The only reason he was even here to meet her was the fact that she’d be speaking with the ambassador shortly and he was already going to have to explain Ensign Davis’s actions. That was not a report he was looking forward to giving.

  A crewman assigned to the bay was working on opening the shuttle hatch when Captain Zeler arrived. He was still wearing most of his vacuum suit having only taken off his helmet and gloves. The captain observed that the crewman had purchased the upgraded vacuum suit with the reinforced seams and armored plates. The crewman had the stairs out and was cycling the door open, so Captain Zeler dropped into parade rest to wait.

  Inside, Daemon could feel the slight aggression coming from whoever was standing outside the door. He told the guard to stay back and protect the girls while he went out to make sure everything was safe. The guard started to protest but a look from Daemon made him change his mind. As the door finished unsealing, it slid to the side. Daemon stepped out into the boat bay and looked around. The sight of Daemon covered in blood and smelling of burnt flesh made the crewman gasp.

  “I am Captain Zeler. Welcome aboard,” Captain Zeler stated formally.

  Daemon looked down at the captain, realizing he was the aggressor. “Thank you. Sorry for my appearance; we had some trouble,” Daemon said, deciding it would be best to be apologetic. “I am Daemon Grayson.”

  Daemon started down the step as Angelica, sensing nothing was wrong, came up behind him. Ted, the surviving guard, carried Cynthia while Christine followed. Captain Zeler watched as the group exited, moving into a line facing him. The medics moved forward as soon as they saw Ted carrying someone. They had him place her on a grav stretcher.

  “My report stated that you were seriously injured?” Captain Zeler said, looking from Cynthia to Daemon, clearly expecting an explanation of why his report was wrong.

  “Cynthia’s fine. She fainted during the disturbance,” Angelica explained. “Daemon regenerates so his wounds are already fully healed. The rest of us are a little shaken up but we’re not wounded.”

  “Very well. I would like you to go to medical and be checked out just to be sure. Once they clear you, I’d like a full report of what happened.” The last part of the statement was clearly intended for Ted.

  “I will inform Ambassador Quinn that you have arrived safely,” Captain Zeler told Angelica, hoping she wouldn’t insist on talking to Ambassador Quinn herself. He fully expected her to and to complain about the lack of security on the shuttle. To Captain Zeler’s surprise, Angelica politely thanked him before following the medics out of the boat bay.

  ***

  Chapter 6

  The Hunt Begins

  Mystique and Shektee found that the entertainment district became dirtier with more vagrants the closer they got to the spaceport. They’d gotten another taxi and had been dropped off in the center of a group of nightclubs. Shektee had wanted to go into one. She’d spent many nights on the other side of the dimensional barrier absorbing the emotional energy people gave off in the nightclubs and wanted to see what it was like on this side of the barrier. Mystique had argued that they needed to find a place to stay. Shektee’d finally conceded and the two of them had walked away from the lights of the city.

  As Mystique had guessed, the farther from the lights they got, the more street vermin appeared. The pair didn’t have to go, but a few blocks before the only people on the street were cheap prostitutes and vagrants. Mystique was trying not to get anyone’s attention. Shektee, on the other hand, drew attention like a magnet. A number of the hookers whistled, while others yelled at her to get lost. One made the mistake of threatening to get physical. Mystique had to stop Shektee from killing the woman. She didn’t think it would be good to leave a trail of corpses.

  A few more blocks and even the prostitutes stopped hanging around. Mystique decided they had gone far enough and started looking for a good building to call home for the next few nights. Most of the buildings were small warehouses or factories. Mystique picked the tallest in the area and looked for the best way to climb it. It didn’t take her long to start scaling a storm drain. Shektee thought about growing a pair of wings, but decided it would be a waste of energy, so instead she climbed up after Mystique.

  Once on the roof, the pair walked around checking to see what was there. The building was six stories tall, two stories taller than the ones surrounding it. It was a rather large building and the roof had a number of small sheds and pieces of machinery spread about. The center was fenced off to keep people from accidently getting too close to a large dish antenna.

  Shektee pointed to a small sign in a window at street level that read “Cathleen’s All-Seeing Eye”. The building it was in was three stories tall and looked to have four stores lining the street on the first floor. The second and third floors appeared to be apartments. The building looked old and needed some repairs. “That place has a magical aura,” Shektee informed Mystique.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The owner is trained in the use of the language I taught you to use to summon me,” Shektee replied. Shektee shifted forms into the classic bat-winged, claw-footed succubus. She didn’t take the time to explain what she was doing; instead, she jumped off the side of the building and flew down toward the building with the window.

  Shektee was not sure what to expect. She had seen the writing before, but she needed a closer look to figure out what they were designed to do. She found out the hard way when she crashed into an invisible wall of magical energy. Some of the energy was released into her during her brief contact. Mystique watched as Shektee slammed into something invisible that caused sparks of pure energy to shoot off in all directions. At least one of the energy bolts seemed to crawl over Shektee’s body as she was flung backward.

  Mystique was over the edge and climbing down as fast as she dared. Shektee had crashed in a heap in the middle of the road and was not moving. Mystique descent took just a few minutes as she recklessly dropped from ledge to ledge, barely holding on long enough to slow herself. Mystique dropped the final twenty feet in a single jump and landed in a roll. She came up out of the roll running. No one was on the street except Shektee. A light had come on in the window and Mystique caught a glimpse of movement. She raced to where Shektee still lay, unmoving.

  Mystique didn’t take time to check Shektee for wounds or even whether she was alive. She grabbed her by the wrists and started dragging her back across the road. The door next to the window started to open, so Mystique let go with one arm and grabbed a throwing spike. She only needed a few more seconds to get to the far alleyway, so instead of waiting for a target she threw the spike as hard as she could. The spike drove deep into the door. Whoever was opening the door reconsidered and slammed it shut.

  Mystique got Shektee back into the alleyway and rolled her on her back.
She’d transformed into her true form, so Mystique didn’t have to deal with her wings. A quick check told Mystique that she was alive and had no visible wounds. Mystique wasn’t sure how long Shektee would be unconscious or what her reaction would be once she woke up, so she backed away to think and wait.

  Shektee woke with a start, flailing her arms to ward off an attack that was not happening. She quickly calmed down and looked around. Her initial glance had missed Mystique, but when she looked more closely she spotted her hiding about twenty feet down the alley. When Shektee didn’t attack, Mystique broke cover and started walking toward her.

  “What happened? What was that?” Mystique asked as she got close enough for Shektee to hear her whisper.

  “That was a warding, a magical barrier designed to keep my kind out. Whoever created it is either powerful or well-trained,” Shektee replied, standing up. She was still weak and a little unsteady, but she would recover.

  “Why one or the other?” Mystique asked, picking up on the distinction between the two.

  “Either could make a barrier that powerful, but someone both powerful and well-trained would have created a ward strong enough to send me back across the planar barrier. We should look into whoever created that barrier,” Shektee explained. She was now fully recovered.

  “Why? I mean, why don’t we just leave them alone or kill them?” Mystique asked a little confused and annoyed with herself for not understanding.

  “What I call magical energy is given off by every living thing. There are two ways I know of to control it and to make it do what you want. The first is through force of will and innate ability, like your obfuscate or Angelica’s healing. You draw on the energy around you and in you to create the effect you want. The second is to use the language of power. It was created by beings so powerful that the very words they spoke could change the flow of magic and make it do what they wanted. The knowledge of their language and how to use it is very precious. Even the ancient would find value in gaining knowledge of it,” Shektee explained. She knew the person that had created the barrier would never give her anything useful, but Mystique had a chance. She needed Mystique to understand how important it was that she obtained any knowledge she could of the language of power.