Trickskin

by Amelia R. Moore

  “Yup. Sorry,” Danika chimed in.

  When they were alone, Danika repositioned Loken onto her hand and brought him eye level. “Seriously? Shapeshifting includes animals? Any more surprises?”

  He ruffled his feathers, unable to answer in this form.

  “A hundred and seventy pound man turns into an owl that weighs a few grams. Sure. Makes perfect sense,” Penny muttered, putting her face in her hands.

  “You’ve offended her delicate scientific sensibilities! Apologize!” Danika chided him.

  Loken hooted his remorse.

  Penny laughed in disbelief, picked up her notes, and walked away.

  “Look,” Danika said, as if Penny walking off in exasperation was a daily occurrence. “Agent Callum is usually fair, but he won't be if you ignore him.”

  He gave her an unimpressed stare.

  “Plus, if you stay here, I can’t promise not to pet you.” As if to prove it, she ran her fingers down his back. Though it felt nice, he had appearances to keep up, so he snapped his beak at her.

  He could admit she was right. This wasn’t a problem that could be resolved by avoidance, so he leaped from her hand, shifted back, and straightened his shirt. Then, without a word, he teleported right into Callum’s office.

  A gamble and a powerplay.

  Callum didn’t even look up from his work. “Next time knock. Take a seat.”

  Loken did so, projecting cool confidence despite the chiding. His actions had served their purpose—successfully reminding Callum that he had the power to come and go as he pleased.

  Callum looked at him for a long moment. “Agent Raaum says you lost your composure in the field.”

  Fool, he berated himself. Of course she included it in her report. Her loyalty was to ALPHA. Hadn’t she made that obvious? For all that she pretended to care—taking him back to her apartment to ensure his wounds were tended to in privacy—she was an agent first and foremost.

  Burning at the betrayal, Loken only sneered.

  Callum moved on. “What’s your take on last night?”

  Loken opted for the truth. “I would agree with Raaum’s assessment.”

  “Care to explain why it happened?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It does to me. Raaum says you do good work—and I trust her assessments—but she says your temper got the best of you. I need to know why so that I can assess if it'll happen again.”

  Loken knew exactly what had set him off, but there was no way he was going to mention the spell that had been laid as a trap for him. He wouldn’t risk being taken off active duty. Not while the unknown pilot walked free.

  “Do you recall the beast that attacked the fundraiser Agent Raaum and I attended?” When Callum nodded, he continued, “We encountered another like it last night. Facing another sorcerer caught me unawares, and the spell he hit me with was particularly unpleasant.”

  Good thing Callum hadn't a clue how magic worked. A drone couldn't cast spells. Only the sorcerer could—

  Loken’s thoughts came to a screeching halt.

  The pilot had to have been on the property at some point to have placed a spelltrap, similar to the one Loken had placed on Callum’s chair.

  “You’re certain? This one was machine. I don’t see the similarity.”

  Neither did Loken. “I know what I felt.” What his magic felt. “That’s twice now that I’ve encountered drones here.”

  “Yet you killed the last one before he could be interrogated.”

  Loken didn’t care for what Callum might be implying. “You think I’ve lied?”

  “Not at all.”

  He didn't know what to make of that, so he remained silent.

  “The drone, did you call it? It was a combat prototype created by Ian Nolan. Whoever was ‘piloting it’ didn’t create it.”

  The pieces fell into place. “It was what was stolen from the facility.”

  “Yes.”

  Loken wasn’t sure what to make of that. This unknown sorcerer had stolen machinery to enchant—specifically with a spell that was used to pilot undead creatures. If they could tailor a spell in such a way, clearly they were no novice.

  A knock at the door broke the silence, and whomever it was entered without an invitation.

  “007!” Nolan greeted him with a wolfish grin.

  Loken stared impassively at him before immediately standing to leave.

  “Sit,” Callum said, devoid of amusement.

  Glowering, Loken did so, pointedly ignoring Nolan’s smug smile.

  “You’re our resident expert on magic,” Callum said. “Ian is our resident expert on robotics.”

  “Not to mention it was my invention that was stolen,” Nolan interjected.

  Maybe some found his petulant child act endearing; Loken did not. “And we’re all very impressed,” he said sarcastically.

  “We need to know the likelihood of this happening again,” Callum said, ignoring their comments.

  Loken mulled it over. Whether or not he liked Nolan had nothing to do with the fact that he needed access to the enchanted machine. It was the only way to get answers.

  “I might be able to detect traces of the sorcerer’s magical signature,” Loken offered, though he made no promises.

  Callum nodded. “Good. Pack your bags. You’ll be staying on site.”

  Loken didn’t like the sound of that at all. “With all due respect, coming and going from this facility is no inconvenience.”

  “I’m aware.” Callum raised his brows. “But I want you one hundred percent focused on this. Get the job done, and you can return to your apartment. Dismissed.”

  Loken debated the merits of quitting.

  Nolan turned to him as soon as they were out of Callum’s office. “I have my private jet waiting.”

  Did he think Loken could be dazzled by such a repulsive contraption? “We’re returning to the facility that was breached?”

  “Hey,” Nolan said defensively, misunderstanding the intent of Loken’s question. “One breach does not make it compromised.”

  Loken didn’t reply. With his destination confirmed, he teleported to his room, gathered what he desired to bring, and teleported to the facility.

  He’d thoroughly researched Ian Nolan by the time the inventor’s private jet finally arrived. Though Loken had already looked him up when he and Raaum had been assigned to be his bodyguards, today he dove deeper. If he was going to have to live with this man, even temporarily, he wanted to know how to best manage him.

  The news articles painted a contradicting picture. He’d graduated from university with degrees in electrical and computer engineering and had founded NolTech when he was only twenty-four years old. Nolan now had a multitude of divisions within his company, and those in his employment were constantly conducting cutting-edge scientific and medical research.

  Next, Loken took note of the endless tabloids of Nolan and the many women he was suspected of having romantic affairs with over the years, but those articles ceased two years ago—on the date of ‘the accident.’

  Loken could only assume what race car driving was, but it had led to Nolan crushing his left leg in an accident. At that time, he began investing in biorobotic companies, paying for research that could improve the lives of those with prosthetic limbs.

  How humans had come so far with their miniscule technology was impressive, and Loken begrudgingly admitted that Nolan’s many contributions to it were equally so.

  Loken was in the midst of watching a speech Nolan had given at some university when the inventor walked into the room. “You’d have to give AI emotions to overcome logic traps. If you don't, how can it complete even a basic task? How could it choose between white and black socks if neither has a benefit over the other?”

  “Stalking me? I’m flattered.”

  Loken had heard the inventor’s approach and didn’t bother hiding the video.

  Nolan walked to the refrigerator. “How did you get the Wi-Fi password?”


  “Same way I got in. Your assistant.”

  Upon arriving, Loken had given himself a tour of the compound before seeking out Nolan’s head of security. The tallest building on site, the main building, was apparently where Nolan worked, slept, and conducted business. Each of its five floors had a separate function, and one of them (the common floor) was where Loken had been invited to wait by Tandie Faraji—after she showed him to his suite.

  “Ah-ha. Don't let her hear you call her that,” Nolan warned. “So. Have you gotten all the power games out of your system? Or do you wanna steal my lunch money and call me names?”

  “I'm afraid I don't know the reference,” Loken replied, conveying as much distaste as he could.

  “Don't tell me they don't have bullies on Mars?”

  Loken narrowed his eyes.

  “Not Mars? Sorry. The hospital files didn't really say. The ALPHA files, on the other hand…”

  “Are you waiting for praise for being oh-so clever or criticism for being a very bad boy? I can't tell,” Loken drawled, masking his apprehension. It was unsettling to know this man had hacked into his files.

  “Tough crowd,” Nolan said, not at all frustrated. “Do you like bad boys?”

  What little patience Loken had evaporated. “Are we going to work or are you going to stand there yapping?”

  “A night owl? I like it.”

  Tired of the cultural references he didn’t understand, Loken turned into a Eurasian eagle-owl, perched on the back of the chair, and flared his wings wide. Perhaps it was impulsive and reckless, but Nolan had already seen him work magic.

  “Holy Harry Potter!” Nolan startled but recovered quickly. “So, I guess wizards really do love owls, huh? ” Suddenly, he looked incredibly interested. “Where’d your clothes go?”

  Loken huffed and pointedly looked away.

  “If you don’t like scientific curiosity, you’re in the wrong home. Anyway, I have a proposition for you. Can you change back? Talking to an owl will make my people question what little sanity they think I have left.”

  Loken had half a mind to refuse, just to irritate him, but he shifted back. “So. You want something. A plea disguised as a deal? Do tell.”

  “No. A bargain,” Nolan stressed. “I have something I think you’ll want.”

  “I very much doubt it.”

  Nolan grinned. “How about a way out of ALPHA? I don’t know what fairy tale they sold you, but ALPHA isn’t just an intelligence agency. They assess, monitor, eliminate, and collect threats, especially the paranormal kind.”

  Loken had already figured that out and had also deduced that running from them, should he ever desire to, would be a hassle. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder what other ‘paranormal’ beings they’d come into contact with. “And what do you think you could do to aid me in escaping them, should I ever desire to?”

  “A lot, actually. You just have to get to me, and then I’ll do the rest.”

  Meaning that Loken had to trust the inventor to keep his word. He contemplated it, decided that he could always stab Nolan if he was lying, and said, “Very well. Tell me what you’d like in exchange, and we’ll see if we have a deal.”

  “I want to study your magic. Specifically your ability to instantaneously travel from place to place.”

  Why wasn’t Loken surprised? “You crave teleportation.”

  “Yeah, see, I wasn’t going to call it that. It’s too Star Trek for me.”

  Once more disregarding the reference he didn’t understand, Loken said, “Regardless of what you call it, I’m afraid you’ll find you have no knack for it, but by all means study away. I care not.” Not every sorcerer could learn to teleport. It was related to worldwalking, in a way, as it required connecting two points in space and time.

  “Challenge accepted,” Nolan replied with a grin.

  Chapter 9

  Once they got to work, it only took Loken a few moments to find the mystery sorcerer’s magical signature. Unfortunately, that did nothing to tell him who the stranger was, but he ruled out the pilot being the same one that had attacked the fundraiser—whom was very likely dead. Until he encountered the sorcerer in person, he wouldn’t be able to identify him or her. Still, it was a start, and it told Loken that the sorcerer was no one he knew. Each magical signature was unique. His mother’s (she’s not your mother), for example, felt warm and inviting, like a comforting blanket.

  “So, you can’t track them down?” Nolan asked, baffled. “Then, what was the point?”

  “The point is that now, should we come across them again, I’ll know it’s the same sorcerer that enchanted your machine.”

  “Better than nothing I guess.” There was a heavy pause. “Can’t you just turn into a...what has a good sense of smell? A dog?”

  Loken slowly turned to fix Nolan with a glare, but his heart hammered in his chest.

  (Animal. Beast. Monster.)

  Nolan held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, Hedwig. Forget I asked.”

  It took a few breaths for the surge of anxiety to pass. Since there wasn’t much more available to do that night, Loken retired to his suite. It was nowhere near the size of his rooms in the palace of Rellaeria, but they were vastly different in both size and quality than his apartment at the compound. The suite didn’t have a complete kitchen—that was located on the common floor—but it came with a computer, a television equipped with too many channels to ever watch, and a bookshelf filled to the brim with novels and academic texts.

  Nolan’s complex had other suites as well, and Loken wondered if all of them were as well furnished. Not that he cared enough to find out.

  After pouring a glass of water, he called Danika with the video chat app to let her know where he was.

  “Sounds fun!” she said once he’d updated her. “What’s Nolan really like? I’ve watched a few of his interviews, but I’ve never met him. Obviously.”

  Loken cocked a brow at her tone. “Do you fancy him?”

  “What? No!” she exclaimed, trying to look scandalized. “He’s smart and hot and gives to charity. Who would find that attractive? Not me. Nope.”

  He rolled his eyes at her transparency. “You can do better.”

  “Aw, Lyall. You’re so sweet. You’re like the girlfriend I never had.” She froze. “Wait. That came out wrong. I just...I never had friends that were girls growing up. Okay, scratch that. I never had friends at all…”

  Any offense he might have felt dried up at that rather pitiful confession—one he could relate to. Friends had been in short supply when he was a youngling. Sanjay’s and Zakir’s friends were as close as he’d gotten, and he didn’t particularly feel attached to any of them. There were a few peers he was amicable with, but nothing more.

  “I’m going to pretend that was a compliment,” he drawled, bantering to try to lift her spirits.

  She gave him a wide grin, looking relieved at the save. “Damn right! So, tell me. What’s it like living with Ian Nolan? Dazzle me with all the luxury.”

  Loken raised a brow. He knew that Nolan was wealthy, but Loken had been raised in luxury. So although the complex was littered with odd amenities, he wasn't in awe of them as Danika might be. He tried to think of something she night find notable.

  “The kitchen appliances are peculiar. They talk. Nolan can control them with his phone, and they react to verbal commands.”

  “What!” Danika gasped. “Is that some freaky AI thing? Isn't that his field? AI? Can you tell the kitchen to make you food?”

  “I’m not sure I’d trust something to cook for me that doesn’t have taste buds.”

  “Fair…Well? What are you waiting for? Show me the apartment!”

  He turned the tablet away from himself and walked around the suite, showing her everything from the bathroom to the bedroom.

  “A king sized bed! So jealous! And were those marble countertops?”

  “Why don’t you visit and tell me?” The invitation slipped out, and he berated himse
lf for appearing needy.

  “Can’t. I have to work on my paper for the next few nights. If we hang out in person, I won’t get anything done because I’m a topnotch procrastinator.”

  “Is that your official occupation?” he asked wryly, disregarded the disappointed feeling in his chest.

  She grinned. “More like my second major. Anyway, let’s do a few ASL lessons now. Show me the food signs I taught you. Then, I’ll go through my Rellaerian vocab, and we’ll call it a night.”

  Loken sat down on his couch and proceeded to practice the requested signs.

  He and Nolan spent the following day taking apart the drone so that Loken could inspect every piece of it (inside and out), to see if perhaps he could decipher how the sorcerer had enchanted it. To their dismay, its charred form held no secrets, and by dinner, Loken was ready to abandon the mission entirely.

  “There has to be something we’re missing,” Nolan said for the fifth time that day.

  “Just because you declare it doesn’t make it so,” Loken noted sourly, rubbing his temples.

  Nolan didn’t reply, continuing to run scans on the scorched metal.

  Disinterested due to their lack of progress, Loken took to investigating Nolan’s workshop. There were dozens of projects, bits of circuits and scraps of metal, strewn about the many workbenches. As he walked past one, one of the machines twitched. It had wheels on its short, square body, and a tentacle-like thing with four prongs protruded from it, likely for gripping and manipulating objects. It didn’t have eyes, so why did Loken get the feeling he was being stared at?

  Narrowing his eyes, he reached out with his magic, searching for sentience.

  “Why are you staring at Ratchet?”

  Loken tore his gaze away from the machine. “It moved.”

  Nolan laughed.

  Vexation for being laughed at made him snap. “Do you enjoy startling your guests with your inferior inventions?”

  “Well,” Nolan said, ignoring the barb. “Seeing as almost no one gets an invite into my workshop...I can’t say I’ve made a habit of it.”

  Loken didn’t know what to say to that, so he merely glared and teleported to the kitchen. After eating some fruit for dinner, he felt refreshed enough to return to the workshop. Upon entering it was evident that Nolan hadn’t taken a break for himself, but Loken wasn’t his keeper. Why should he care?