by Al K. Line
Steve glanced at us both then mumbled something.
"What?"
Again with the mumbling.
"Speak up, I can't hear you."
"Steve, why are you being so evasive?" asked Vicky, squeezing his knee.
"Fine. It's the Wild One. We aren't taking, we're rescuing."
"All shifters are Wild Ones, aren't they?" asked Vicky.
"Yeah, that's what people call us. What we call ourselves. This job is to get The Wild One. You know, her."
"Then you seriously need to reconsider your offer," I noted. "And how are you getting twenty percent of the value of the artifact? How is there even a price on her?"
"Because that's the ransom. She's been taken, kidnapped, and we need her back. She has to be returned, but the top guys won't pay. The Wild One herself wouldn't pay, wouldn't let anyone, not that she's old enough to make those decisions or anything. But it's how we roll. Never pay a ransom, that's why nobody ever gets kidnapped, because everyone knows we never pay."
"But she has been kidnapped," I said. "So what gives?"
"Honestly, man, I don't know. I told our people I knew you, that you were a close friend, and rather than get our own people, they suggested I hook up with you. As to why? I don't know. And that's all I know."
"You know what she is though, right?"
Steve scratched at his beard for a while, handsome as always even when frowning. I was used to the pheromones he gave off now, but damn he was a good-looking man. All Wild Ones were like this, an animal magnetism that drew you to them like a moth to a flame, but they were dangerous, and many were unstable, and yet loyal to the very end if you made a friend of them. Steve was a good guy, one of the best, and I liked him, but if this was business, and he was an intermediary for the higher-ups even though they didn't have bosses or anything as organized as that, then they had to pay. Plus, I was keen to find out what he knew about this almost mythical creature.
"I kinda know, but it's all rumor and third-hand info. You know how it goes."
"I know."
"What are you two talking about?" asked an exasperated Vicky. "Who's the Wild One? Is it a thing, or a person?"
"That's debatable," I said.
"It's a person, a girl to be exact. A young, supposedly very powerful girl. One of the most unusual shifters if the rumors are to be believed. Very rare, to be treasured and kept safe."
I turned to Steve. "How did she get taken?"
"Just nabbed, by all accounts. You know our kind, you can't keep us locked up. She had protection, but those guys got killed, a raid, and now her kidnappers want paying."
"It's an odd job to get me for," I said.
"Not really. You're good at the stealth side of things." I snorted and we both looked at Vicky. "Okay, usually," said Steve, knowing as well as I did that Vicky was prone to causing a scene on jobs and getting us both into trouble. "You can get her, get out, and not risk her being killed. If our guys go in, they'll shift, things will turn ultra-violent, and she'll be put at risk."
"Were you two laughing at me then? What do you mean about usually being stealthy?" Vicky gave us the hard mom-stare and we both cringed away.
"Nothing. It's cool, babe," said Steve, giving Vicky a reassuring smile.
"Hand me that paper," I said. Steve passed it over and I pulled out a pen and wrote my counter-offer. I pushed it across the table.
"Come on, it's a young girl. She'll be scared, this is a little mercenary."
"And there is more to this than you or I know, so that's my price. I don't see you skipping your fee. It doesn't wash that your people don't want to rescue her, there must be a reason and it will mean a load of crap for me. So that's the price."
"Fine." Steve nodded. And then he said, "I could have gone higher." He bit his lip and muttered, "And will you please sort out this damn truth thing, it's driving me nuts. How's an honest criminal meant to make any money when he keeps blurting out the truth?"
"You have my sympathies.
Game on.
The Wild One
Steve stayed for a beer then said he had to report back to those who'd put him onto this. We arranged to meet up later and I said I'd let him know when and where once Vicky and I had gone over the details and formulated a plan. Time was of the essence, so we had to get our skates on. The drop was meant to be the following day so this had to be accomplished well before then. The kidnappers would be on high-alert, so this wouldn't be easy, but we had magic on our side, and I knew we could pull it off.
Okay, white lie. I wanted to do something after being laid up for a fortnight, and this was all there was. I had no idea how to do this, and magic is not always the best policy.
I spent a while filling Vicky in on the details about the Wild One, although, just like Steve, what I knew was all second or third-hand knowledge, but there were tales about such shifters going back to the beginning, and they were all alike to some degree.
This particular Wild One was a young girl, prepubescent as far as I knew, about ten, maybe eleven years old. She had been different from birth, inherited her parent's abilities, able to change at will into her main creature, except soon after she was born it became apparent she could change into not one but two creatures. This by itself was unusual and certainly made her special and cherished by both her parents and the community, as it was a rare thing indeed, even when both parents were shifters.
By the time she was three her true nature became obvious. The more she learned, the more pictures of animals she saw in books or on TV, and the more she experienced, so the more animals she could shift into. She could turn into anything, any creature she had knowledge of. This was different to the innate ability shifters have where their main creature is theirs at birth whether they have a name for it or not. This was more like shape-shifting than true shifting, and yet it wasn't. She became the animal, had it's nature, it's abilities, and that's shifter gifts, not shape-shifting.
It made her dangerous. To herself, to others, and to the community. It also made her unstable in ways that made me shiver. Can you imagine a young child coming to terms with such abilities? Can you picture the things they would do just because they could, how they reacted when they didn't get their own way and had a tantrum? She couldn't master it at that age, couldn't be expected to, and it led to serious trouble, same as it had down the ages with every single true Wild One.
Children cannot suppress their emotions. They burst into tears, they have tantrums, they get angry, even violent, but they are children and can be controlled by adults.
Try calming down a three-year-old bear cub that's pissed it can't watch In the Night Garden, and begins to rip the sofa to shreds because it really, really wants to see Iggle Piggle fall over with his red blanket. Again. You kinda can't, because shifters become the animal and it is only through learning that they can retain their own self and keep the beast under control. So all shifters go through this to a degree when growing up, but it is only one animal. When nobody knows what the next shift might be, and that includes the child, it's impossible for the animal nature not to have free reign.
So Wild Ones are cherished and almost worshiped as the pinnacle of shifterdom, but they are also prisoners of a sort, kept away from everyday life much moreso than most young shifters for their own protection and that of citizens. This Wild One was captive in her own home, a compound somewhere outside the city at a location known only by those who needed to know. When she was old enough, she would take on a crew, be powerful, popular, and rich, but until then she was guarded, taught intensively because there was a helluva lot to learn, with numerous invited guests teaching her the ways of the many and varied animals she could shift into.
And now somebody had kidnapped her. A valuable, some would say priceless, artifact of the human variety who could become a very powerful weapon in the wrong hands. The downfall of the whole community too if she was ever captured by one of the many organizations who would use her to cause havoc, terrify society, or merely experiment on her, test
her, force her to do things in the name of science.
She had to be returned safe and sound, and for some strange reason that was now my job.
"Wow, that poor child. I'd never really thought about what it's like growing up being able to shift. Poor Steve." Vicky cried a little.
"Yeah, it's tough all right. Imagine being a kid and doing that kind of thing. But Ivan had the same, turning into the wolf. You lucked out by not doing it until recently."
"I guess. What about the girls, do you think they have it?"
"Time will tell, but they haven't shown any signs, so maybe not."
"I hope not. I've thought about it so often, why I didn't change until recently, but I can't figure it out."
"It's different for everyone. Some shifters don't get the ability until grown, others when they're old. It can be a single event, like with you, that changes everything and the true nature emerges. So, fingers crossed for the girls."
Vicky got a faraway look in her eyes, thinking of her children and the horrors that undoubtedly awaited them no matter what I said to make her feel better.
"Read the files Steve sent you and find out where she is. I'm going for a walk."
As Vicky objected, I got up and left, then drove into the city.
Space to Breathe
I needed activity, noise, the hubbub of the city even though it was evening and the shops were closed. People were still about, going to pubs, restaurants, the small independent cinema in town, buying takeaway or rushing through the streets after staying late at work. I needed to be around people.
Don't get me wrong, I don't like people, most anyway, but I had to know they were still here, that things continued in my absence. I needed to see the grime, the graffiti, the sad faces and desperate smiles of people who know they have to be nice to get a tip. This was real, not some holiday in the middle of nowhere where everything was fake.
But it was more than this, and I was surprised I'd missed it to be honest, but I guess the city was as much in my blood as the country. There was another reason why I was sitting on a bench in the city center watching people go about their lives.
I wanted to witness firsthand this issue, this "truth infection" many had succumbed to.
Life continued as normal. The people I saw were doing what they'd always done, and whatever was happening in their lives, it was reassuring to see. Sure, people were bickering, and there was a vibe, an edge to things, but plenty were sitting outside the pubs, determined to wear shorts and vests and be outdoors because it was summer, no matter that it was England and had been raining and would again soon. Arguments were commonplace, hardly surprising, and yet there were also many people, couples especially, who seemed closer than ever, more in-tune.
Guess one, or both, of you telling the truth will lead to some very serious chats in a relationship. It would either make you or break you. You either got closer than ever when someone told you the truth about their lives, how they felt, what they thought, or you'd pack your bags, or pack theirs, and that would be that.
Same went for family.
Would mine hold together? Sure it would. After all, I was perfect, and so were George and Penelope. We'd get through this, even if I had to put up with jibes about my combats and them saying having so many pockets was stupid. What did they know? You can't have enough pockets, it isn't possible.
One thing that was certain, the truth infection was a real thing, and it was magical in nature. I felt it in the air, permeating the city like smog, creeping under doorways, stealing up people's nostrils and affecting their brains. That's how I imagined it anyway. As a mysterious smoke that everyone inhaled and became infected by. But it couldn't really be like that, it was a magical emanation, everywhere and nowhere, polluting the very air, the essence of things, and it wasn't anything anyone could even do.
How could you?
Sure, there were many adepts much more powerful than I when it came to niche arts within a broad spectrum, but I knew this wasn't possible, or hadn't been until now. If it was, then wizards or witches would have taken over the planet a long time ago. A few determined people with such mad skills would be world rulers, control everything, so this was something new, unique, and all the more worrying because of it.
I decided there and then that no way could I fix it. The magic council, that gabble of twats, would have to get the big guns out, the heavy-hitters, and negate it themselves. It must be done by someone they knew about, because this level of expertise never goes unnoticed.
Happier because I knew I was out of this, and had a job instead, I went to the chip shop and bought greasy food where nobody smiled and certainly didn't expect a tip.
Food in hand, grease soaking into my sleeve as it soaked through the paper it was wrapped in, I went to the park and sat on a different bench and thought about the Wild One and the terrible life she must have had and how scared the child must be right this minute. I shouldn't be sitting about, I should be off saving her.
So that's what I decided to do. After I'd finished eating.
Never Deal with Kidnappers
The shifters were right about one thing, you never dealt with kidnappers. They never let anyone hold people or things to ransom as that way lay no end of trouble. The minute anyone knew you would pay, it would be a field day for the magical underground. We were, I'm afraid to say, a rather untrustworthy bunch, which comes with the territory when most magic users or magically imbued entities were criminals because of what they could do.
You couldn't be expected to be a regular citizen when you had all these mad skills, that would be a waste. So most wizards, witches, shifters, and many vampires, along with endless oddballs, were outside of the system, always on the lookout for a caper, a job, a way to get the megabucks. I stole artifacts because people paid a fortune for them, but there were others who would steal people if they thought they could get a good payout. It was why the shifters, same as the rest of us, refused to deal with kidnappers. If you paid, your whole kind were open targets, and the more unscrupulous wouldn't hesitate to take advantage.
There simply weren't cases of shifters being ransomed, hadn't been for the longest time, because everyone knew there was no point. But someone had decided taking the Wild One was worth a punt, and to be honest it was. She was valuable if the shifters would pay for her return, but it went beyond that. She could be sold on, and there were many groups who would happily pay, either to turn her to their side and use her abilities, of which they had endless uses, or one of the covert organizations who knew about the magical communities would pay large sums for such a fine specimen to study.
Imagine how useful a shifter could be if you had crime in mind, or spying, or any manner of subterfuge. She could turn into a mouse and creep under doors, listen to secrets, or infiltrate security easily and help you nick a load of stuff that could set you up for life. Most shifters couldn't turn into tiny creatures, there seemed to be a limit, but this Wild One was unique, so was prized.
Who would take such a wondrous artifact of the human variety if their intent was to hold her for ransom, not use her, and where would they take her?
Buggered if I knew.
I finished my fish and chips, binned the greasy paper, licked my fingers, and smiled. I sure loved a mystery. Maybe I should buy a trench coat, I already had the hat.
Getting on With It
Feeling more myself again, meaning I was a bit smelly, annoyed with people just for being people, and with the cloying city air hard to breathe, I decided to return to Vicky's. The girls were asleep still, no funny business where they kept getting up and whining about the TV and why did adults get to stay up so late, so Vicky was relaxing with a glass of wine. I skipped it as I'd had enough booze to last me several years in the space of two weeks, so was on the wagon.
I joined Vicky on the sofa and watched as she expertly navigated between various tabs on her laptop, most of it gobbledygook to me. Code streamed down the screen in green, which I thought was only for in movies,
not a part of normal computers. I relaxed and left her to it, the ferocious tapping of the keyboard—Vicky went through laptops like nobody's business—comforting after our lack of regular work lately. Every so often she'd grunt, bang extra hard on a key, then snicker as she clearly got what she wanted.
You wouldn't think it to look at her, but Vicky was an ace hacker and not afraid to tell you, whether you asked or not. She had mad skills and genuinely was an important part of the team until she knocked something over and got us both caught. But she always managed to disable alarms, find blueprints for properties, and uncover secret rooms, that kind of thing. She could also find things, people, places, all manner of stuff I wouldn't have a clue about, by navigating through the digital cesspit that was the web. Secret servers hidden away by corporations where they thought their dirty secrets were safe were anything but that when Vicky cracked her knuckles and got down to business.
Vicky could do some serious blackmailing of her own if she wished, knew a lot about a lot of people and businesses, but it was a no-go zone because you were asking for trouble, a bullet in the head or worse, if you messed with such institutions. So we nicked magical artifacts for collectors or adepts, got fat payouts, and hardly ever got into trouble, and most certainly never got caught. Ahem.
Vicky closed her laptop and twisted her neck side to side, a nasty click the result. She sighed, arched her back, then grabbed her wine and downed it in one.
"Ah, that's better."
"Well?"
"I have no clue where she is, what her name is, where she was taken from, or any idea where to look."
"What about all the stuff Steve gave you?" I asked, shocked.
"He just gave me a load of info about a ton of buildings spread around the city and further afield. I don't know what any of it means, but as far as I can tell she wasn't in any of them, and isn't in them now."
"How do you know"? I asked suspiciously.
"Because I checked records, cameras, routes in and out of the houses, farms, warehouses and what have you, and none of them looked dodgy, not in the way we want. Many are shifter places, and they should be more careful as I saw a lot of things they won't want getting out there, but there's no sign of a young girl like the one we're after."