The Art of Madness

by A. J. Mayall

  THE ART OF

  MADNESS

  THE GEARWITCH INVESTIGATIONS

  A. J. MAYALL

  The Art of Madness

  © A.J. Mayall, 2017

  Cover image by TomEdwardsDesign.com

  All rights reserved.

  License Notes Section

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  DEDICATION

  To put it simply, this book could not have existed without the input, help, and support of myriad people. I’m going to break protocol and try my best to include as many as I can.

  It’s my book, I’m allowed to do that.

  Firstly, to my husband Glen, who has been my rock and support this past decade and change. Thank you for tolerating me through my ups and downs. I know you’ll only read this when it’s out on audiobook, but still…

  To Aaron Fernandez, you have been like a second partner to me, a best friend, support, and heaven knows what else. Thank you, Bubbe. The sheer everything you’ve done on your own time and your own dime can never be repaid.

  To my editor, Julie Butcher, thank you for pushing me. Thank you for the brutal honesty, and allowing me to show you how serious I am about this industry. I hope to do you proud.

  To my mother, you taught me my work ethic. You taught me to never let go of what I want to achieve. For that I am eternally grateful. I hope you enjoy this and the other stories to come.

  To my Aunt Jenni, my biggest regret is that you are gone, and that I will never hear your feedback on this and my other books. I miss you so much.

  To my friend Stuart Porter, you’ve been my friend and confidant for over half my life, you’ve been at my side and listened to my darkest thoughts and filled me with light.

  To R. R. Virdi, in the few years I’ve known you, you’ve been like a little brother to me. A little brother with a talent I’m hoping to catch up to.

  To my friends from City of Heroes, stay Fabulous.

  To Dasha and Jeffrey, so much love to you two. Words cannot express how much you mean to me.

  To my friends from Paragon Studios, especially Andy Belford, my deepest thanks for giving me my first real gig where I got paid to write. It was a dream come true.

  To my Smashwords family, you all rock!

  To Mark Coker, thank you for believing in me.

  To my NARFA family, especially David Cowan and David Piccola, you were the people I wanted to impress with my words; I hope to have done so.

  To John Bouska, what can I say other than you da man.

  To Ash Dunn, I’m sorry you aren’t here to see this; I think you’d like it. Also, to settle the argument between you and John, I’m going to just say the duck is soaring and looking down from above, like I know you are.

  To Kevin J. Anderson, thank you for showing me how a professional conducts himself. You are one of the best men I know.

  To Mercedes Lackey and Larry Dixon, I did it, poodles!

  To Joshua Alan Doetsch, thank you for showing me that I’m not the only one with shadows running rampant through my brainmeats. That it’s a good thing to make friends with the monsters under the bed.

  To Jenn Rodriguez and my PacStream family, you are the best freaks a friend like me could have. Or something like that.

  To Andy Benditt and “The Crew”, DEDICATION REDACTED DUE TO NDA.

  To my LoMSies and the Zenvious Crew, you are all forever in my heart. Never forget that.

  To Beecher and Mad, Zen and Jet, double that for you guys.

  To Ben Worley, when I need someone who can bear with me when I am my most me, you are who I turn to.

  To John Adams, thank you for the long calls and the deep friendship.

  To Jason Jones, hugs and love.

  To my Picarto.tv family, keep being awesome!

  Last and certainly not least…

  To my Grandmother, Lois Mayall. I miss you more than life itself. You were the best person I have ever known. You are the unattainable goal of compassion and unconditional love I strive to be. Every day I think of you, and hope I made you proud.

  I love you, Gamma.

  This book and all others are most certainly dedicated in your honor above all others.

  FOREWORD

  Hello, Friends.

  What you hold in your hands is the first released book in The GearWitch Investigations. You need to know, going into this, that this is not the first book of the series.

  Let me explain.

  There is a greater story at play here, one I want you to enjoy solving piece by piece. Too often I find book series that have a majority of the stories dependent on having read everything that came before it. I want any book in this series to be a good starting place for you.

  Some of my favorite sagas are told in this method, such as Star Wars, or even Narnia.

  If I’m lucky enough to have released the other books and you have come to this foreword, welcome back. As I’m writing this, that’s still up in the air.

  Welcome to my little madhouse, my home away from normalcy.

  Welcome to Rouge Mal, Nevada.

  I hope you enjoy being here as much as I enjoyed building it for you to be in.

  -A.J. Mayall 3/31/2017

  The following story takes place after The Watchmaker Argument and before Penny Dreadfuls.

  CHAPTER 1

  “We have a case!” Phoenix exclaimed as he opened the front door to McGee investigations, raising his hand for a high five.

  “About damn time, McGee,” said Suzette DiMarco, his assistant, confidante, and best friend, passing him by as she entered and leaving the hand hanging.

  The slender, six-and-a-half-foot-tall redhead shrugged with a grin, sliding his hands into his pockets. His attire was simple: a white t-shirt, slightly baggy jeans, well-worn sneakers, and a little too much hair gel.

  She had met plenty of guys like him in her brief stints as a model. Looking at what she was wearing, it was hard to imagine her on a catwalk; the high-collared gray dress was practically dowdy. Her appearance was only modernized by her thin-framed glasses and her hair in a haphazard bun.

  Phoenix thought she resembled what angry librarians claim their final form to be.

  “Come on. We’ll have a new investigation beyond the weekly insurance claims. Husband suspects an affair.”

  “Oh, so you might be ruining a marriage? I’m in.”

  Phoenix scowled, trying to lighten the mood, “We might save it, you know. At the very least, we could maybe make a new ad from a happy customer.”

  Suzette looked at him, nonplussed.

  “I’m still not giving you a high-five, not before my coffee.”

  In his twenty-three years, Phoenix McGee had learned a few things. One: No matter what life handed you, try to find the positive. There were already plenty of people who were dark and dour in his line of work. Two: A friendly smile and a bit of wit could fix nearly any situation. Three: Suzette can’t be held responsible for manslaughter if it’s before her morning gallon of coffee.

  “Fine, be that way. The client will be here in a few hours. Once we get his paperwork filed, put it to my B pile, after the insurance cases. We need to keep the lights on, after all. I’m certain your grandmother will understand.”

  “I hope so. She’s been messaging me about when you’ll pay her back for the loans on this place.”

  He looked around the office. Filing cabinets were half-extended out, plastered with stick
y-note reminders about bills.

  “When are you seeing her next?”

  “Tonight,” Suzette said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Dinner at the hotel.”

  “Tell her about the new case, and the insurance companies still need to cut me a check for last month. I’m not letting her take this place.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  He checked the time. It was nearly seven, which meant Genesis would have just opened up the combination bookstore and coffee shop across the street.

  “I’m grabbing celebration donuts, Suzette, anything you want?”

  “Bearclaw,” she said, sipping her coffee as she settled in for her day behind the desk. After a moment, she smiled, breaking her usual unimpressed expression. “Go celebrate your case, but keep it cheap.”

  He scowled as he walked to the door.

  “What? I do your banking, McGee. Until the checks clear, you need to keep a tight budget. You know, like a functional adult.”

  “I’m a functional adult. Look at me. I’m running a business, I have my own place. I’m adulting fairly well. Hell, adultery is my specialty.”

  “Adult, my ass. You sleep with a stuffed animal.”

  “You leave Bouncer out of this.”

  Suzette pointed to the door, chuckling, “Don’t forget my donut, you goddamned manchild.”

  “I always thought of myself as more of a ‘rascal’,” he said, opening the door onto the streets of Rouge Mal, leaving McGee Investigations, and quickly crossing the street to The Books of Genesis.

  He heard the familiar ring of the bell over the door as he entered, calling out to his friend and neighbor, curious what color her hair was today. When he turned to face the counter, he paled.

  Two robbers had guns pointed at the rainbow-haired woman behind the counter. Genesis trembled.

  Phoenix sighed, “And here I thought the morning was going so well.”

  The two men faced the tall, gangly redhead. One kept a shaky gun trained on the barista, the other pointed his pistol at the interloper.

  “Wallet, now!” was all the larger of the two said.

  Phoenix raised his hands and motioned to his right. “Back pocket, take it. Don’t shoot.” His detective instincts kicked in, memorizing the robber’s features: Caucasian, no visible tattoos, couple of facial scars, brown hair, cut short. He was about six foot, which made him shorter than the detective. His skin was pale, which meant out-of-towner or night owl. Living in the Nevada desert meant a lot of sun and even Phoenix, with his Irish heritage, had a faint copper glow to his cheeks.

  The robber’s partner kept his gun pointed at Genesis. The shorter robber was scruffy and twitchy, the more dangerous one to upset right now. Phoenix was willing to take a bullet, but Genesis? Never in a million years.

  The larger thug fished out the wallet and flipped it open, pulling out a handful of small bills. When he spied the investigator license, he said, “Private dick. Get the cash, fast.”

  The twitchy one jerked his gun toward Genesis, who opened the register wordlessly, her eyes focused on the gun.

  “Does he have a Black Card?” Twitchy asked, emptying the bills into a duffel bag atop rare books.

  “Don’t see one; his ID don’t have him registered either.”

  “Good,” said the smaller man, pulling his gun back and rubbing the top of his head with the butt of it, backing away. He trained his gun on the redhead as he and his larger accomplice exited for an armored van.

  Phoenix kept his hands up as he asked Genesis, “They in the getaway car?”

  She turned her head to check through the small window near her coffee station, nodding to Phoenix a moment later.

  “Good. My turn.”

  Phoenix closed his eyes, extending his senses from his body to throughout the room. He focused his will, being flooded with an intrinsic knowledge of the nearby space, every machine like a ley line to him. Time seemed to thicken, every instant stretching out. He felt the pull of gravity, the thrumming spin of the planet. His Attunements were a little rusty, but it was like riding a bike. The Patterns were all around him, from the computers on the counter, to the data flowing invisible in the air, all interconnected, all able to be manipulated. He breathed in, savoring the metallic flavor the air took when he used his abilities.

  White-blue energy coursed around his arms and fingertips. The faint sound of a clock ticking was at the edge of hearing. Genesis watched from the window as the glow enveloped the van, intensifying under the hood. She saw the robbers panic as the engine wouldn’t turn over and the doors wouldn’t open.

  The redhead lowered his hands and took his wallet from the counter. “Call the cops; tell them robbers are having technical issues with their vehicle and are detained. Iced decaf mocha for me, large. Bear claw. How’s it look outside?”

  “They’re freaking out, the hood of the van is on the sidewalk and you’ve got so many wires and tubes waving in the air it looks like that scene from The Thing; you know after the part when the rib cage opened. So, this thing you do, it’s not technomancy, right?” She stared out the window while reaching for the phone.

  “I’m just a guy with a few tricks he can do.”

  There was a loud thud at the door. Something wanted in.

  “Gee, I wonder who that could be? Let’s find out,” Phoenix winked, opening the door as the van’s engine block hovered in, suspended on an ever-shifting pattern of the same blue-white light. It settled near the lost and found box.

  “You gonna put the hurt on them?” Genesis asked as she dialed 911.

  “No need, neighbor.”

  Phoenix crossed his arms and focused on the van as he walked out.

  The two would-be robbers kicked at the bulletproof glass, to no effect as gears and tubes leapt from the van. Even the fluids slowly flowed through the air into discarded bottles.

  Phoenix gave them a friendly wave as the energy coursed through him, the whir of machinery in the air, though there were no engines running. The detective smiled at the duo as they flailed, stepping forward when he saw them brandish their guns to try to shoot their way out. He wanted them humiliated, not injured. Ricocheting bullets in such a tight space would maim one or both of them. He knocked on the passenger window, and the twitchy one jumped, dropping his pistol.

  Phoenix raised a luminescent hand, miming rolling down a car window. The sound of the power window activating filled the space between them, an oddity considering the battery lay near Phoenix’s feet.

  “The money and the books, please,” Phoenix demanded, hand reaching out to collect the stolen goods.

  “You got powers! You ain’t got no Black Card! Yer in for more jail than us…”

  “You pulled a gun on my neighbor. Let’s not discuss who’s in trouble with the law. Now, the books and the money.”

  Phoenix stepped back as they threw the duffel bag out the window. He quietly picked it up and returned to the bookstore. As sirens approached, the window rolled back up with a snap of Phoenix’s fingers. He stepped back in, peeking around the corner, smiling wide and shaking the bag triumphantly.

  “How much do I owe you, Gen?”

  “Those guys robbed me! Can you please take this seriously?”

  “Well, here’s your stuff. I only had about twenty bucks, so the rest is yours.”

  “McGee, I…” She paused, glaring at the man who grinned like an idiot. “Let me make your damn coffee. Do I need to tell the cops you were involved, or will they figure it out, considering you live across the street and the car disassembled itself?”

  “I’m sure they’ll have questions, send ‘em over if they want answers. It’s open-and-shut, though.” He glanced back at the two men locked in their car. “More shut than open.”

  Genesis huffed and put the coffee on the counter beside the bearclaw. “On the house. Thanks again, smartass.”

  “Hey, any time if it means free goodies. Will you punch on my card for these?”

  “McGee, don’t push it, or I’ll
punch something else.”

  Phoenix nodded and hurried across the street to McGee Investigations. Suzette peeked out the window as the sirens blared.

  “For fuck’s sake, McGee, what’d you do now?” she greeted.

  “I got my coffee.”

  “Decaf?”

  “Yup.”

  “Blasphemy. You look like crap, you know. You need to clean up for the client.”

  “Well, I haven’t had my coffee.”

  “Decaf isn’t coffee.” She peered out the window again. “Tore their car apart, too. What, was Gen getting robbed at gunpoint or something?”

  Phoenix averted his gaze. Suzette leaned forward, eyes wide.

  “No way! Is she okay?”

  “She’s shaken, but she’ll be fine. Upside of an armored car, it’s a jail cell. I power-locked them inside and lifted the engine block out. It’s simple enough to put it back in.”

  “There’s nothing easy about putting in an engine block,” Suzette scolded.

  “Never said it was easy, I said it was simple. Now, you have a file on the new client?”

  “Yeah. Get ready, I’ll hold down the fort. Did you at least get my donut?”

  Phoenix climbed the stairs double-time, mouth full of bearclaw. “Can’t hear you! Getting ready! See, I’m a professional!”

  She grumbled, “Professional slacker, maybe...”

  Suzette was thankful the police were quick to arrest the two men who accosted Genesis. That a wrecker took away the armored van and its many disconnected parts before their client, Jeremy Benton, arrived was miraculous. When she invited him in, she found he was a fireplug of a man, with thick cheeks and thicker glasses.