The Art of Madness

by A. J. Mayall

  “Phoenix, it’s Gypsy.” He nodded and moved his legs a bit; his ankles and tendons screamed an opera of white-hot lava in his nerve endings, eliciting a low inhuman howl of pain.

  “You look like hell, buddy. What can I do?”

  “What can you do…?”

  “Little to nothing. Can’t interact with the physical world, no one sees or hears me but you.”

  “Have I ever told you this mentoring thing is fucking useless?”

  “Couple times, I think I see why you feel that way now. At least you’re still in one piece.”

  “For now. I need to know how to escape.”

  From behind him, Gypsy laughed. “You sneaky bastard.”

  “You know what I’m getting at.”

  “I have a good idea.”

  “I can’t move, I can’t see. You can. Tell me everything that’s going on. Full commentary.” He muttered. “Where keys are, passcodes, everything. I’ll only have one chance at busting out of here.”

  Gypsy leaned in close, kneeling beside him. He heard the creak of the leather of her hide duster as she knelt. “Every detail, my friend.”

  He closed his eyes, and let out a loud cry. Admittedly, it wasn’t completely for show. Most of the scream had been a consequence of having kept so much pain bottled up.

  “Four men have entered the room.” Gypsy said, standing to his right, “One is short, a bit twitchy, light blond hair. One is older, ruddy gray, tall. One is dark-haired, coiffed and bearded, the last is medium brown, lanky. The first one is wearing a black outfit. The next two are wearing suits, and the last is wearing jeans and a blue t-shirt.”

  MacKenzie, O’Halloran, Bellacino, and Basseri. Fuck.

  “The first one is reaching for an aluminum bat on a counter directly in front of you, about 7 feet away,” she said, placing an ethereal hand on his shoulder, knowing he couldn’t feel it.

  Phoenix flipped his head up. “You can leave the bat there, Omega. I’ll talk to Basseri.”

  Stuart MacKenzie went wide-eyed as he stopped mid-grip on the bat. “How did you know…?”

  “It’s my job to know things.”

  “You’re blinded. That material doesn’t let any light in.”

  “Same way I know you changed from that wifebeater and khaki shorts to the cute little black number you’re wearing now. Let me guess, you wanted to look good for Donatello and Douglas. Nice suits, by the way, boys.”

  The two gangsters took a cautious step back, MacKenzie trying to wrap this new puzzle into a neat little bow. “You aren’t psychic, though.”

  “Don’t need to be psychic. I know men like you…” Phoenix groaned. “Can read you like a fucking book, it’s why I didn’t tell you anything. I don’t read trash. Basseri, on the other hand,” he said, nodding in the general direction after Gypsy told him, “he’s interesting. Go be a good boy and get me some ice packs. Painkillers, too.”

  “You don’t order me around, you son of a bitch!” he yelped, his voice cracking as he gripped the bat, about the swing it at the detective’s head. Basseri reached out but it was too late, the swing went through.

  Phoenix ducked in time, the bat going over him and passing through the image of Gypsy that did not exist for the quartet of criminals.

  Bellacino and O’Halloran rushed the werewolf as he shifted into his hybrid form, his screams sounding less human, and more a rasping growl.

  “How do you know?! Tell me!”

  Phoenix sat quietly, keeping his eyes closed, tears streaking down his cheeks, knowing he only had one chance at this.

  “I’ll tell Basseri, and only Basseri. The rest of you, fuck off.”

  MacKenzie growled and shook the two men off.

  Gypsy hissed in his ear. “He’s in a fury, you need to think of something fast.”

  “I know where Caroline is!” he bellowed.

  MacKenzie and O’Halloran froze.

  “Where is she, McGee? Tell me, and I’ll see you’re let go immediately.”

  “I’m not telling you…” he said in a mocking sing-song voice, hoping the previous show of preternatural knowledge would be enough to make the bluff believable.

  “You’re in no position to say no, detective…” Douglas said, striding toward him, rolling up his sleeves.

  He turned his face away from Douglas, mentally begging for forgiveness for what he was about to say.

  “Basseri sold her. She’ll be in some brothel in Taiwan by now, isn’t she, Dominic?”

  Douglas O’Halloran turned red and looked to Basseri, who nonchalantly lit a cigarette, paying him no mind.

  “We both know that’s not true, McGee.” Dominic said, his voice smoother than his frame would suggest. It was like velvet in a rainstorm, flowing and rippling into the ear. “But I gotta admit, I’d believe you.”

  O’Halloran advanced on Basseri, gripping the man by the collar and lifting him.

  “Dougie, if I did have your daughter, I’d have told you by now. I’m just glad my little friend was able to stop this crazy man from harming the two of you further.”

  Douglas O’Halloran cinched the collar of the underworld upstart. “Why the fuck should I believe you over him?”

  “Because…if I did have your daughter, I’d be flaunting it. I mean, I’d be sending you a live web broadcast of what I’d sold her into. We both know what kinda shit I do to prove a point. Believe me or don’t, but if you don’t let me the fuck down, and get off my back, it won’t end well for sweet Caroline.”

  Douglas released the man, and turned to Phoenix. “Tell me where she is.”

  “I want to talk to Basseri, alone.” he replied simply.

  “It’s nice to want things, ain’t it? Tell me where she is, or I’ll beat it out of you.”

  Phoenix laughed. “Worse than Puppy McCompensator? You rough me up worse, I’ll be in no condition to talk.” The cough of blood punctuated the sentence. He smiled wide, even though he knew they couldn’t see it, the faint and strained chuckle from the fabric bag disturbed Douglas.

  “You’re fucked, big man, because one of us is lying and you have no goddamn clue.”

  Donatello put a meaty hand on O’Halloran’s shoulder. “You’re letting them get into your head, you need to calm down.”

  The grip was shrugged off, as Douglas walked to the door, looking at the access panel and tapping in the unlock code, which Gypsy called out to Phoenix. If he managed to escape his bindings, everything he could do naturally without needing to rely on his powers would be lifesaving.

  The phantom guide continued to tell Phoenix what was happening in the room. He listened and hung his head, feeling weak, his will slowly draining.

  “Basseri is going for his phone.” Gypsy said, peering over his shoulder. “Sending a message. I’m quoting. ‘Sam, get your entire crew together, time to clean up shop.’”

  Phoenix groaned as he heard a ring a few minutes later.

  “The response is, ‘We’re going to record it, like he recorded us.’ Phoenix, we need to get you out of here now.”

  Reginald Gemini sat in his office, hands nervously fidgeting with the top button of his jacket, giving him the impression of a squirrel that couldn’t solve the acorn dilemma.

  Ms. Levicia sat at the other side of his desk, organizing the files found on the cracked fliptop.

  “That explosion, there will be questions. Are you certain no one saw you?”

  She did not miss a beat, answering without lifting her eyes, “You hired me for various skills, one of them is being unseen.”

  “I know that, but there was a huge earth-shattering kaboom. You can’t shrug off leaving a building right as it exploded. That’s what spies, and Special Forces, and action heroes do.”

  She creased her brow momentarily as she worked through the files. “As you say, sir.”

  “What’s on the fliptop?”

  “Nothing of terrible importance, however there are reports of data leaks, heavily encrypted backdoor access to some of our military g
rade projects.”

  “Was Mr. Bennington able to locate the source?”

  “Yes, report here says he investigated the site, awaiting independent verification before taking the information through the proper channels,” she said, coldly.

  “You said military grade projects…”

  “Mr. Ahkriman’s side of the company, nothing to do with yours, sir.”

  “Is everything in order for us to go to the authorities?” Gemini asked, looking over his shoulder, a bashful smile on his face. “I mean, unless you wanted to investigate that last place Todd had been, first.”

  “Oh, I want to visit there first, as we have no pressing matters.”

  “Other than who put bombs in our security team head’s home.”

  “As much as I’d like to think that’s a private matter, sir. The links to this Dominic Basseri will be sufficient to ensure he won’t be bothering us for some time.” She smiled, looking up for the first time, patting the fliptop and leaving it on her boss’ desk.

  “I’m certain I shouldn’t know about these shenanigans, Ms. Levicia.”

  “I never said I would, just that it’d be a good idea.”

  “Very well, do what needs to be done. I would like this sorted. Mr. Ahkriman gets tetchy when things don’t go his way. Call in the cavalry.” He turned back to look out the window over the city of Rouge Mal.

  He paused and asked the room, a moment later, “We’re doing the right thing, yes? This is going to help, this isn’t overstepping bounds?” He paused, awaiting a response. He turned around, the only sound in the room the rustle of fabric of his sleeves and collar as he found himself alone.

  “Various skills, indeed.”

  Jack continually checked his watch and the wall clock, looking to his phone on and off.

  “Alright. I need to ask, how are the two of you dealing with this?!” he yelled spontaneously.

  Suzette had been lying down on a chaise longue, her new book parted near the end over her face, the colorful green cover half uncovered from the dust jacket.

  She rose abruptly, book flopping to the floor as she snapped at Jack, “Oh shit, are you still here?”

  “Yes…I am. Was there something I was supposed to be doing, Suzette?”

  “Not waking me up. Being quiet. We’ll know when to go; you heard Phoenix, there will be a signal of some sort.”

  “What if he’s in danger, what if he’s in a place where he could use help?”

  “Then, I would hate to be tired and remorseful. If you wanna go downstairs, go ahead.”

  Jack looked at his phone, his watch, and out the window one more time before he turned on his heels. His frustration had reached a boiling point.

  “Seriously, what is your problem, Suzette?!”

  Suzette’s head had just hit the pillow again when Jack’s words made her torso act like a blow-up punching clown.

  “Do you want a list, Jack?”

  “No, I want you to cut the shit. Drop the act. He’s your friend. You act like you couldn’t be bothered to help him. It’s been hours! He could be dead. He went off half-cocked with people I don’t fully trust.

  Suzette’s eyebrow arched at that last comment, as Francesca emerged from the sleeping quarters.

  “What in damnation is that racket?”

  Jack looked to Francesca, beyond the point of caring about keeping up appearances. “I’m telling your granddaughter she’s self-centered and a terrible friend.”

  Francesca looked to Suzette and shared a mutual gaze of incredulity. “Young man, are you new?”

  “Listen, if the two of you won’t help him out, I will.”

  Suzette motioned to the elevator. “No one is keeping you here, but Phoenix isn’t going to be happy when he finds out you didn’t do what I told you to.”

  “He can hate me for all I care; I have a job to do.”

  “What job is that?” Suzette said, cracking her knuckles, rolling her eyes as Jack laced up his boots and called for the elevator.

  “To protect and to serve.” A few moments later, the carriage arrived and Jack stepped in, hitting the Lobby button.

  Once he was gone, silence fell across the Gerard Suite, Francesca laying a hand on her granddaughter’s shoulder. “I think you were right about him.”

  “Yup, I think he’s the one,” she said, a smile building across her face.

  Jack stepped into the lobby, his phone crackling and beeping as it synchronized with the network and the disturbances were flushed from its circuits. He checked his messages, seeing he’d missed a few.

  “Oh no. No, no, no.” He called the last person to send a message. “Hello? Yes. Okay, you’re where? Listen, can you hold off until I get there? Just…trust me, okay? Yeah. Please. Yes, I know the address. I’ll be there soon.”

  He checked his pocket for the key to the suite and cursed himself for leaving it behind. He muttered as he left through the front door of the hotel. Jack shifted into his hybrid form, letting the night air flow through his fur as he ran, letting his primal side overtake him. He couldn’t be late, not now. He wouldn’t…couldn’t let him down; too much was at stake.

  Guess Levicia stood outside the rundown apartment reports had stated was the source of the information leak. She strode through the front door, reached to her lapel and pulled out an infrared temperature scanner. She walked by the various apartments, holding it up to the walls, knowing any serious computing setup would vent a lot of heat. Four flights of apartments had eventually revealed nothing out of the usual.

  She huffed out of sheer frustration; if the information wasn’t here, it was back to square one. Her anger rose and she tossed the scanner to the floor in a moment of rage.

  It beeped, slowly at first and then more rapidly. She eyed the door it was pointing to.

  “Maintenance and boiler room.”

  It made sense, since there would be adequate venting there. She looked to the lock on the door and checked to make sure she was alone. From her pocket came a straw that fit into the lock; the other end fit into an aerosol can. With a press, frost built on the surface of the lock, then ice crystals.

  Another quick check for witnesses found none. She placed a spike where the straw had been, and a hammer blow shattered the lock. The door swung open easily afterward. She walked with purpose, looking for any signs of technology out of place.

  She took account the condition of the wiring, finding a few large cables had recently been replaced or installed. Guess surveyed the room emotionlessly, mentally checking the pattern of the other bits of wiring, and followed the suspect cords to where they disappeared into the brick and mortar of the wall. A check of the hole with a finger revealed fresh dust, or at least dust time had not displaced. She paused and knocked on the wall. Hollow.

  Guess Levicia found an access port to what seemed to be a crawlspace. With determination and a few thumb drives, she worked herself through the hole and found herself face to face with the operations of Dominic Basseri.

  CHAPTER 19

  Sam Maxwell waited, his anger building as he stood under the moonlight. He had waited for the better part of thirty minutes for his Omega. Dorian leaned on the van, the moonlight glistening off the sheen of sweat on his shaved head.

  “Why are we waiting for Jack? You know he’s going out with McGee’s girl.”

  “He’s Pack, Dorian. I thought he was your little pet project,” Sam growled, a hand scratching at the five-day growth on his cheeks. “Not to mention, we do what Basseri says, and he wants us all here. I got a feeling he’s going to use this as a way to teach Jacky-boy about the order of things. C’mon, has Basseri ever let us down?”

  “No, but this is his sort of thing, isn’t it? He’s about to make checkmate. Then he has to clean up the board. You really think you and me got a place on it once he’s got his way?”

  “Think of it this way; we’ve wanted to get rid of these two for a while, right? If Basseri double-crosses us, then we grab the bastard.”

  Doria
n leaned in and sniffed at the air. “You’re a shitty liar. You’re too far in that man’s pocket and we all know it. You’d follow him into traffic, chasing his rear bumper.”

  Maxwell straightened his back and glared at his beta. “Don’t remember you being this mouthy before I went on my leave. You’re as deep into this as I am.”

  “I’m not that deep; you still haven’t told me where Basseri has you keeping those folks. Lee said even he had seen the setup. So you tell me, why the lack of trust, Sam? You afraid of giving me some leverage over you?” He stood up, looking down his nose at Sam.

  “Guys! I’m here!” Jack called out, rounding the corner, lungs on fire and legs filled with battery acid. He growled and braced himself against the van, looking at the two senior pack members. He wanted to give them space, but he was far too exhausted to do anything.

  “So, what’s the plan, you have McGee?” he tiredly growled. “Fucking hell, I need a drink.”

  The two smiled, the interruption a much-needed tension-breaker.

  Sam said, “Yeah, we got him, but not for much longer. Come on, we’ll let you in.”

  He paused and held a hand up. “In a second. Need to let my legs stop themselves from being jelly.”

  Dorian chuckled, “Can’t believe you ran here.”

  “I can. Ain’t that right, Spring-Heeled Jack?” Sam bellowed and headed back inside.

  Jack Hoffman paused and waited for them to be out of the way before shifting back down into his human form. In a flash, he pulled out his phone and took a picture of the front door, texting out the address.

  Come quickly. Phoenix captured, tortured. Stop The Pack.

  He pocketed the phone and walked inside, hoping Hell would follow on his heels.

  Joel kept his eye on the knife. His eyes darted from Emma, who currently held it, to Caroline, and back to the knife. It was Todd who spoke up though.

  “I need you to calm the fuck down. Listen, this isn’t going well for you. We know that. You need to calm down. This isn’t you.”

  Joel looked to Todd and snapped his jaws like an animal.

  “It smells like a charnel house in here! They aren’t going to let us out! They’re going to watch us kill each other. Heh, what are you gonna do about it? How are you gonna stop me, big man? How are you going to stop me?!” he cackled, sitting on the opposite end of the room, eyes closing.