by Holly Rutan
"An earthquake?"
"Yes, just like the one we had right now." She nodded, a quick repeated jerk of her head.
"I see. Thank you for being such a good citizen, Mrs. Artunian. You have provided us with a lot of good information. With your help, we will catch this terrible criminal." Charles took her hand and shook it, smiling. Little wrinkles appeared around the corners of his eyes.
"Well," Mrs. Artunian admitted, "my car stalled, or I would have left."
I coughed, stifling a bit of laughter.
The witnesses' accounts varied, but even so we were able to get a description of our cultist that most of them agreed upon. He was a big, bald, muscular man who was not wearing a shirt. Some of the witnesses thought he might have been naked. Others were sure he was wearing pants. He appeared out of nowhere, raised his hands—some thought he was wearing gloves, others thought they were coated in blood or paint—and then disappeared, leaving the runes behind.
"All in all," I told Charles, closing the notebook, "those were some of the best witness accounts I have ever heard."
He chuckled in agreement, and I felt a glow of pleasure. "Seven different witnesses and only one perpetrator. That has to be some kind of a record."
Usually accounts were so different from person to person that it could be difficult to nail down even the most basic of information. One person would see a skinny white guy with a baseball cap, and the next person would see a buff Hispanic man with a do-rag.
"So," I said to the woman next to me. "Penny?"
She offered a hand. "Yep. Penny Blake, Research. Magus Paul Douglas is my partner."
"Sammy Davis. Somehow I always thought you were younger," I said, taking her hand. She grasped it firmly, a grin spreading over her face.
"I was nearly ten," she answered.
We stood and stared at each other while emergency personnel bustled around us, both of us grinning like loons. Charles looked back and forth between us, quirking an eyebrow. Then he smiled, recognizing the name.
"Charles Smith," he offered, extending his hand. Penny let go of mine to shake his, and then the three of us stood in an awkward silence. I looked the younger woman over, trying to align her image with what I remembered of the events that had brought us together. When I had seen her, I'd already begun to regress into a bestial state.
Penny looked like she'd just rolled out of bed. Her blonde hair was tousled and pulled back in a sloppy knot to reveal rounded features that had been seared into my memory even though I had only seen her for a brief period of time, while shape-shifted, in shock, and young. She'd gained quite a bit of height and now stood a good eight inches taller than my five foot nothing.
"Damn, am I glad to see you made it out okay," I exclaimed. "I never knew what happened after you left."
"I did what I said I was going to. I went to get help," she answered. "It was a scary job for a nine-year-old, but someone had to do it. What else was I going to do, send the dog? And what's with the rogue bracelet your partner's carrying, anyway?"
"I regressed a little past what the DMA thinks is proper," I answered.
"Raw deal. What do you think about getting lunch?"
"Work first," Charles interjected. "Why don't we all meet up in Van Nuys?"
I snorted my displeasure but nodded, and Charles rubbed my back. Penny agreed and went to collect her partner, who was chatting with Irwin.
The drive was quick; the roads were empty except for a few people still heading home or out to work, emergency vehicles, and law enforcement. I also saw a few military trucks, which made me raise my eyebrows.
"You know," I said while tilting my head toward the window to catch the breeze, "if I was a civvie, you couldn't pay me to be on the road today. What kind of moron doesn't shut the place down with earthquakes and crazy magic everywhere?"
"Some places in the world, this is only a little worse than normal," Charles replied.
"Yeah, but this isn't some other place in the world. It's Los Angeles," I rebutted as we passed another small cluster of cars.
"If you need to make rent, you need to make rent," Irwin answered. "Not everyone can miss a day of work without going hungry."
I sighed and let the subject drop. They were right, but I didn't want them to be. Instead, I rolled the car window down all the way and leaned my head out the window, letting the wind of our passage blast me in the face, driving out all thought.
When we arrived and got out of the car, Charles took one look at me and sputtered with laughter. After a stunned moment, Irwin chuckled. Pyggie stuck his head out of his pocket in curiosity, and soon his high-pitched giggles joined the other two.
"What?" I demanded.
"Your hair!" the three of them chorused.
I put my hands up to my head and discovered my short mop had devolved into some sort of strange mass of spikes and tangles and was sticking up in the back. I ran my fingers through my hair and flattened it a bit. That would have to do. With dignity, I turned my back and stalked inside to fetch a comb before Penny showed up.
Chapter Fifteen
Penny and her partner Paul arrived at the station about five minutes after we did, and the two mages immediately put their heads together and discussed the fascinating melodic effects they'd witnessed. I itched to join them, but that would leave Penny and Charles to the crap job of calling the witnesses we'd yet to get a statement from. I wanted that done so that I could settle down and catch up with Penny.
Right when I picked up the phone to work my way down my third of the list, Voneshi called. "Meeting at two, online. I need all five of you. And, Samantha, put on your damn bracelet. The alarm is going off, and it's annoying," he said curtly and hung up.
I yelped and checked my pockets. I didn't have it. Charles didn't have it. Irwin didn't, either. We finally located it in one of the cup holders of Charles's car, and I sighed with relief as I slipped it over my scarred wrist. I hated the bracelet, but a slip-up like that could get me shot. It was looking more and more like I wouldn't be executed. Until my safety had been assured, however, I would wear the stupid thing.
It was nearly one, so we went to have some pizza before the meeting. I'd have just stayed in the office, but Charles was determined to pursue his crusade to get me to eat enough. Everyone else had weighed in on his side, so it was five against one counting Pyggie, and I ended up eating an entire medium pizza by myself, while they split another one.
I'd been surprised any food places were still open, but as Irwin put it, "Just because there's a war on doesn't mean people don't have to eat." There wasn't much to say to that logic. It was true.
Then we all went back to the office and logged on to VVST. Penny and Paul took over Tamara and Georgia's vacant desks, which caused all of us a pang. Tamara still hadn't woken up. It didn't look like she was going to.
I busied myself straightening out my paperwork and making sure that all of our reports agreed while agents logged on in ones and twos. Voneshi's name went bold at five minutes to two, indicating the boss man was online. We prepared grimly for our reaming.
Voneshi didn't disappoint. "Over a hundred agents out on the street, searching for clues, following the same case, and not one of you has found where our rats have gone to ground," he growled. Ooh, Tim would not have appreciated that. "We look like fools. Worse, we look like incompetent fools. Now, I want your progress reports, starting with you, Max."
Max was one of the two agents who worked in the Eagle Rock area. He cleared his throat. "Thanks to our source, we've narrowed down our potential blood farm to three buildings in the area. We have not caught any additional runners, so we have to do our search based upon changes in the population instead. These are our targets." He rattled off several locations.
"What is holding you back?" Voneshi's image leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the surface of his desk.
"Well, after Tamara and Georgia, we're being extra careful. With these guys' penchant for blowing things up, we don't want to risk d
ying and maybe taking a bunch of innocents with us," Max replied. He showed a great deal of restraint; if it were me, I'd have snarled at our boss.
Voneshi allowed this with a slow nod. "We'll hit all three targets tonight. There's no time to waste. Get your routes ready and get your ass down to Headquarters immediately. Alice."
"Sir?"
"Give me your casualty report." His voice was like iron.
Alice, who worked over in the Pasadena area, swallowed. "As you all probably know, they hit the mall. It was early enough in the day that the crowds hadn't hit their peak yet. So far we have confirmed sixty-three deaths and at least twenty more missing. The...thing. The rift, I guess we're calling them, sucked in parts of the building and destroyed itself in the process. Witnesses report seeing victims drawn in with the rubble."
Warmth drained from my face.
"Do you have a profile of the perpetrator?"
There was the sound of paper shuffling as Alice looked at her notes. "Male, probably Asian, about five foot nine, maybe two hundred pounds. No shirt, no shoes. Tattoos on his head, shoulders, back, and arms, in some sort of characters, resembled writing. He appeared and lifted his arms before disappearing. The runes appeared moments later with the same result as the others."
"Jose, your casualty report, suspect profile."
Jose, who worked with his partner in the Hollywood area, spoke. "At least two hundred missing or dead. Crews are in place and removing the rubble. We have recovered...well. We've pulled out pieces of what we believe to be nearly fifty individuals so far, but...some of them are small enough to have some doubt."
"Oh, God," someone whispered.
I covered my mouth with my hand rather than echo the sentiment aloud. Shock reverberated between me and Charles as the two of us tried to absorb that image, and failed. At least with the mudslide, the victims were still in one piece.
Jose continued, "Our witness reports are understandably muddled, but to the best of our knowledge, the suspect was African American, approximately six foot five, and muscular."
"Did he also have tattoos?" Voneshi asked. I bit my tongue, having nearly jumped the gun to ask the same question.
"Anyone who was close enough to tell is probably dead. Our witnesses were far enough away that a red or brown ink on brown skin would be invisible," Jose answered.
Voneshi sighed. "George, report."
The reports rolled in. We had six rift sites, five of which had imploded with devastating effect. San Fernando had been fortunate—the area wasn’t that far from Van Nuys, and we’d had extra personnel on patrol while Moira and I handled our current case. Magus Felix had been our only casualty, and he’d died of an aneurism, or so the medmages told us.
After receiving the status updates from each of the bomb sites and investigative teams, Voneshi concluded the meeting with a brief summary of the pending government actions to keep order and request for a status report on Moira.
"She still sounds like death, but is definitely improving," I answered. A chorus of well wishes echoed in my headphones, and then agents began to log out, getting back to their work.
"Agents Davis and Smith, get to the tac room, please. All others, return to your duties," Voneshi ordered. "Magus Irwin, Agent Blake, Magus Douglas, Familiar Pygmalion, this conversation is confidential. Find yourselves another place to be, please."
"I, ah, I'll go see if there's any doughnuts in the kitchen," Irwin said, giving us the same sidelong, sad, and crooked smile he'd offered us that morning.
"Forget that. Let's go get some fresh ones from that place down the street. I've been told they have good coffee, and that the stuff in the kitchen is always crap," Penny said. "Come on, guys."
The three of them trooped out of the office, Irwin's expression brightening as Paul asked him a question about the chord Irwin had been tapping that morning when we'd intervened at the post office. After the noise of their conversation faded, the two of us switched conference rooms. The list of agents logged on italicized and shrank as agents went idle or logged off, depending on their preference.
Several other agents were already present in the tactical room: Tyrant, the head of Investigations, Voneshi, and another man I did not recognize. The stranger, Ken Haddon, had the (SEC) notation at the end of his handle, indicating he was from the DMA security forces.
"Agents Smith, Davis, thank you for being prompt," Tyrant said. "I have a few questions for you, if you don't mind."
"Shoot," Charles said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head.
"Rumor has it that mated weres can communicate telepathically. We can't get a straight answer out of the civilians. Is this true?"
I shot Charles an uneasy look. He lifted his shoulders; how I answered was up to me.
"Not...precisely," I answered. "Why?"
"What do you mean, 'not precisely'?" Tyrant asked.
"Um. I know my partner's general state of health and mood," I said, still uncomfortable with the topic. "If he were a were, the ability would be mutual."
"He is werekin," Voneshi noted. "Your mate's mother is quite a prominent member of the Coalition. You can be frank, Agent Davis. This conversation will not leave this room."
"Begging your pardon, sir, but I know damn well that VVST is monitored and recorded at all times, and while I trust you and have to trust you brought in good people, I've gotten enough slaps in the face from upper management to know that some individuals are far from unbiased," I said, defiant. A little boost of mood from Charles made my shoulders straighten from their defensive hunch.
"I am the agent on duty to monitor communications," Ken answered, his voice high and soft. "I've spliced in a brief conversation in which Captain Voneshi gives the two of you a talking-to for inappropriate relations, warns you to watch your asses, and then you all log out. We're in invisible mode for the next...twenty-six minutes."
"Why?" I asked.
"We need you," Tyrant answered for him. "And the gods-be-damned idiot administration seems to be doing everything in its power to drive nonhumans out of the agency. We aren't all dumbasses and fools. I want to know how you tick so your captain can use you without tearing you apart. With the exception of Karen and Peter, who have stuck with us, every were we've ever had that bonded quit. Why?"
Since I was pretty out of touch with mainstream were culture, I tilted my head at Charles in inquiry.
"Weres tend to die in service," Charles answered. "Peter and Karen are both noncombatants. Even if Peter got called to the field during an emergency, he has the comfort of knowing that Karen is human. If something fatal happens to him, she won't die like a were would."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"So weres leave the agency out of concern for their partners?" Tyrant asked.
"In short, yes. Except in truly extraordinary circumstances, were bonding is for life. The trauma of losing a mate is so severe that the survivor, if their heart doesn't stop outright, will either slip into a coma or starve themselves to death. It's hard to justify that kind of risk for an agency that treats us as second-class citizens at the best of times."
"I...see," Tyrant said. "You said 'we.' Does that mean you consider yourself a were?"
This time it was Charles's turn to give me an uneasy look. I thought hard and then dipped my chin down and back up. Voneshi could be trusted. If he couldn't, I would have died long ago. His confidence in Tyrant's trustworthiness was enough for me.
"Only because of Samantha's extraordinary trust in her captain will I admit to that," Charles said. "Kin are the voices of the were community. We speak for our brothers and sisters because they are not permitted the same freedoms as us, but we're no more human than they are. We're weres. We just never snapped."
"Not one word of this will leave this room," Tyrant swore. The other two men in the room signaled their agreement in quiet voices.
"After all this time, are you going to quit, Sammy?" Voneshi asked, sounding almost wistful.
"I don't have the freedom to do that," I answered. "Even if I were so inclined. You know that. The DMA doesn't even need a permit to hunt me down."
Voneshi said, "I'll have Werehunter Rodriguez evaluate you tonight. No one with an ounce of sense will take Smith's word for it, but Rod's independent. He'll have one look at you and score you at a nine-point-five, and your stayed execution will be revoked. Accounting will be pissed to have to grant you four years of back pay, but everyone knows a were without beast eyes is about as stable as you get."
"He can do that?" I asked, surprised.
"I hadn't submitted my evaluation before things got crazy," Charles murmured, holding his hand over the mike.
"Yes," Voneshi stated. "So, are you going to stay with us or not?"
Charles's mood had brightened. I looked at him, and he tapped the holster of one of his silver-loaded guns. I nodded, and he smiled.
"As long as I can get my assignment switched so we're in it together, yes. Charles is doing a job that properly falls to a were, anyway. It's a dangerous job, and an ugly one, but it's better for us to clean up our own messes rather than get humans killed trying," I answered.
"One less thing to worry about," Voneshi said, sounding as though the phrase was a prayer.
"Twenty minutes," Ken interjected.
"Thank you. Did you have any other questions, Tyr?" Voneshi asked.
"Plenty, but nothing relevant," Tyrant answered with a soft chuckle. "I'm going to remove myself now. What I don't know, I can't leak."
Tyrant's name italicized and disappeared before anyone had a chance to reply.
"I have a very specific assignment for the two of you for this evening," Voneshi said. "Queen Gamble should know by now that Tim is dead, but she won't have received the proper, official notice from the Department. Humans don't have a monopoly on racism, and the rats have made it damn hard to communicate with them in any kind of efficient fashion. Tim might have left something behind that will tell us what he found. Go inform Queen Gamble of his death and find out."