CHAPTER 9
I spent the rest of that evening behind a desk engaged in more parrot learning. The focus of the day the being the various citation level offences a Junior Enforcer could commit.
It turned out an Enforcer was allowed a set amount of citations each year, three major or nine minor. And if exceeding this level, was suspended and put under immediate investigation. Once under investigation the Enforcer could either ride the process through to the end, after which dismissal was almost a certainty, or alternatively volunteer to enrol in the Rehabilitation Program. This, if completed successfully, allowed a return to duty, under probation.
The citations themselves were predictable, with the minor category including wearing an incorrect uniform, completing paperwork sloppily, being late and so on. Major citations were likewise unsurprising, such as acting improperly on duty, misusing magical abilities, taking advantage of Enforcer privileges, and other such things. What did interest me was the so called ‘Rehabilitation Program.’
Upon flipping to the relevant section of a textbook I was met with paragraphs of needless jargon, all of which danced around and avoided giving real explanation as to what the process involved. A sure sign one had wandered into controversial waters. But after powering through multiple unfriendly pages, riddled with such redundant phrases as ‘…the Enforcer, by free decision of his own and no other, willingly and under no obligation agrees to undertake aforementioned program…’ I finally realised what the so called Rehabilitation Program was. Enforcers signed up to be manipulated.
There were, of course, extensive guidelines on what was aimed to be achieved during the program, but since the textbook specifically stated that Enforcers could in no way hold the D.O.M responsible for results, I assumed that salt was a prerequisite where the guidelines were concerned.
I snapped the book shut, flabbergasted I had not heard any mention of this, and headed to bed with the clock telling me it was past my bedtime.
Some time later I realised a face was looming at me, half buried in shadows, skin glistening with grotesque, clear, decomposition liquids. Delaney’s zombie projection. I wondered absently what it was doing in my room. But the longer I looked, the clearer it became it was not the zombie. It was Liza Clarence, lips parted in a delicate smile. She was saying something but for some reason it sounded like the ringing of a telephone.
‘Damn it,’ I thought frantically, ‘she’s found me! Really better get out of bed and defend myself.’
The face was changing, becoming that of Brent Kingston. And now Selena. And now Conrad. And now…
From somewhere came the sound of a muttered conversation, then the rapid thump thump thump of approaching footsteps.
“Jet! Jet!”
The face became that of Benny Kingston.
“Jet, wake up!”
I sat up. The flame in my stomach was so furious I expected the bed sheets might be smouldering. Benny was shaking me.
“What?” I barked, “what’s going on?!”
My eyes did a quick scan of the room. Neither the Brent-Demon nor any of the other horrors were present.
“Get up!” Benny urged, “Move! It’s Selena! She’s been spotted!”
We were dressed and on the road in under ten minutes, hurtling towards the southern regions of the city. Above us a cloud smeared sky withheld any chance of comforting moonlight.
“Julian came through?” I asked.
“No. This was called in by a landlord,” Benny replied, his sleep deprived face glowing in the dashboard lights. “He recognised her from the papers. Dispatcher tipped me off. Enforcers will be breaching the building and trying to take her any minute now. Just keep in mind, I’m writing this up as voluntary hands-on experience. Keep out of the way and do as you’re told. We’re there as observers.”
“Got it.”
With traffic minimal we were across town in less than fifteen minutes. Around us shining glass buildings grew gradually thinner and were replaced by less glamorous versions of themselves. But it was not until decorative trees became overflowing garbage cans that one knew they had truly penetrated the slums. Our destination, however, could proudly call itself the king of the slums, managing to unquestioningly be the most dilapidated structure in history, even by slum standards. If one used broken windows as a scoring system it was at least fifty ahead of every other building on the street. That the place was still occupied was outrageous.
Benny pulled into the abandoned parking lot and cut the engine.
“This is it,” he declared, “You sure you’re ready for this? Likely won’t be pretty, buddy.”
I hesitated. But the stomach flutter was back in full force. “Yes.”
“Alright, then let’s get ready. The Enforcers will be here any minute.”
I followed as he climbed from the car and headed round to the trunk. Inside was an old helmet with Perspex face cover, recognisable from any movie that featured macho police officers kicking down doors.
“Put this on,” he said, holding it out.
“Never seen an Enforcer wear one of those.”
“It restricts the effectiveness of spell casting so it’s not official gear. But in your case I suggest you wear it on the basis of it keeping your brain inside your head.”
The device seemed like Enforcer bicycle training wheels, but I took it and did up the chin strap.
We stood silent, staring up at the structure in mutual mental preparation. Somehow it seemed to be gazing back at us. From nearby came the discordant shrieks of a pair of cats locked in territorial battle.
“I can’t believe she’s somewhere in that hell hole,” I breathed.
“Long way to fall,” he agreed. “Maybe she’ll come peacefully. If not…”
The parking lot erupted with pale illumination; headlights of an approaching Enforcer van. The vehicle floated into the parking area, swung into place near the building’s entrance, and assaulted the bottom floor with twin beams of light. Two more lights snapped on, rooftop mounted spotlights, creating a nova of searing white radiance. Figures began to appear in various windows throughout the building.
The van’s side panel sprang open and eight stone faced Enforcers emerged. Simultaneously from the passenger seat climbed a ninth Enforcer, a black haired man in his thirties. The prominent gold emblems on his lapels identified him as the Squad Commander, according to my textbooks. Although the thick pink scar across his left cheek was identification enough.
“Forward team, breaching positions, two by two,” the Commander announced, gesturing towards the building’s main entrance, “Second team around the back, find this shit-holes back door and clamp it down. Nothing in or out. Now, please!”
He watched as the Enforcers moved to obey. Four took positions under the glaring white light near the main entrance. The other four disappeared around the back.
Benny nodded at me and we approached.
“You boys are my volunteers?” the Commander asked.
“That’s right, sir,” Benny replied, “Kingston, Junior Enforcer First Class; Clarence, Accelerated Program Cadet.”
The Commander’s eyes fixed on me. “Clarence?”
I nodded.
“Heard about you. Either way you’re a brave Cadet. Most take their ‘hands-on’ time changing bed sheets in the Manipulation and Influence hall.’
“Thank you, sir,” I said. My voice was loud in the helmet.
“Just keep back and out of the way. You’ll learn plenty watching, trust me. It can get a bit crazy so if you find yourself disorientated just get out of the building and wait here.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned his gaze to the medals on Benny’s breast. “You’re a Manipulation specialist?”
Benny nodded.
“Excellent. You can help me putting out the warning.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Good. Floor by floor. We’ll stay one level below the assault team.” He raised his voice to the men by the entrance. “Enforcers, ge
t ready! Warning going out!”
Benny turned to face the building and bowed his head. I felt his Spirit extending outwards, creeping like a slow motion wave into the ground floor. It declared a clear and concise message.
“There are Enforcer’s approaching on official D.O.M business. Keep out of their way, do not approach them, do not interfere, do not resist if you are detained.”
“The warning is out,” Benny said.
“Ready to breach!”
Two of the Enforcers flanking the door ignited their Spirit.
“In three, two…”
The Commander paused. An expression of recognition flickered across his face. He raised a fist in the ‘wait’ signal.
And now I heard it too. A whisper was curling out from beyond the main doors…
An instant later the two leading Enforcers were shrieking like mad men, one slapping at his body as if he had spontaneously caught fire, the other clasping both hands to his ears and crumpling to the ground.
I stared through the Perspex face cover, dumbfounded, half convinced I was witnessing the most bizarre practical joke in history.
“Brace!” the Commander yelled. “Brace!”
And then everything happened at once.
In hindsight I rather wish I had reached the chapter titled ‘brace’ in one of my textbooks. I stood frozen, halfway between diving for cover and curling into a ball, but not committing to either. Even as the other men crouched and squared their shoulders, I did nothing.
There was a deafening THUMP and the ground vibrated. Then glass and splinters were spattering my body, lodging in the fabric of my uniform and ricocheting off the helmet like bullets. Where the door had been was now a blossom of blue sparks.
A blast wave rolled out like a miniature tsunami.
The two disabled Enforcers were affected first, both being lifted off their feet and sent pin-wheeling into the parking lot. It all seemed to be happening in slow motion as my brain cranked into overdrive. I gaped, but still did not brace.
The wave expanded and advanced. It washed over the next two men in line, each of which stood his ground with unflinching calm. The wave struck their bodies and destructive energy was drawn inward, shimmering and twisting visibly as it branched off and was absorbed. Benny and the Commander were next.
When eventually the wave struck me I at least had the good sense to squint my eyes and flinch, not achieving the graceful actions of the other men but still managing to draw in part of the tingling Spirit. Still I was sent stumbling backwards, arms flailing madly until I thudded into the front bumper of the van.
After a beat the car’s headlights exploded, then the two roof mounted lights. I was showered with glass as the scene plunged into darkness.
There was a pause then came four loud impacts in quick succession. I feared we were being fired upon by an automatic weapon and my head swung round, attempting to spot an assailant. But the ground vibrated and I realised the men were distributing energy.
For a long while there was only my ragged breath, loud inside the helmet. Condensation misted up the faceplate. I attempted to wipe it clean and smeared the liquid into streaks.
The Commander spoke. His voice came from nearby, but my eyes struggled to adjust in the cloud-obscured moonlight
“Selena Stephania!” he yelled, “Surrender to us now and you will avoid being taken by force!”
A figure emerged, gliding through clouds of dust like a spectre. I managed to make out wrinkled clothing and hastily tied back raven hair. The two remaining Enforcers by the door were backing away, hands raised, index fingers extended, Spirit crackling on their bodies.
Selena watched them, expressionless.
“Surrender to us now and you will not be taken by force,” the Commander repeated. ‘This is your last warning! Get down on the ground and…”
My peripheral vision caught sight of a figure detaching from the building above. I looked up and saw an enormous spider silhouetted against the moon. Then a blur descended on the Commander, crushing him to the floor like an origami sculpture. All heads turned in his direction.
Selena seized the interruption. She raised both hands and fired a bolt from each, Spirit popping like a thousand tiny fireflies and sending the two Enforcers thrashing to the ground. One cried out in agony, body flailing on the cracked asphalt.
Benny acted next. A crackling, blue bolt was launched at Selena, twisting through the air on a sizzling trajectory with her chest. She spotted it, braced, and swatted it aside, creating a SNAP and brilliant white light that punched into the darkness like a camera flash. The bolt soared off into the night sky.
Her head turned in our direction. The demon, still perched on the Commander’s broken body, followed her gaze and emitted a single aggressive squeal.
“Mister Clarence. Mister Kingston.” Selena said.
Benny opened his mouth to respond, but what would have been said will remain a mystery forever. At that moment the other four Enforcers came tearing back around from the building’s rear. Multiple bolts were fired at Selena, two of which she deflected, the others going sailing over her shoulder and shattering into a brick wall.
Benny glanced at me.
“Help them, Jet,” he roared, and dashed forward.
I gathered my wits and fumbled with the helmet’s chinstrap. The clunky contraption was torn off and tossed aside. I started to follow, body humming with adrenalin, but the demon was faster. It came streaking forward. Benny turned and threw a clumsy bolt but the creature dodged, lunged forward and grabbed him under both arms.
“Oh shit,” I heard him snarl.
It lifted him off his feet. He flailed and hammered a fist down into its face, but it stooped and slammed him back down onto the asphalt.
I drew up my Spirit and focused it on a hand, then felt my boots pelting the ground as I flew into an attack. The creature looked up. It snarled and raised a clawed hand, but the punch landed clean, flying past the hand and connecting with the face. There was a BOOM and the skeletal figure went somersaulting into the parking lot.
“You okay?” I asked Benny.
From nearby came more electric SNAPS and blinding flashes. Selena was engaging the Enforcers. One stray projectile soared over and impacted the ground near my legs, kicking up debris against my body.
Benny looked up at me and attempted to scramble back to his feet. But a hand went to his side and he sank back to the ground.
“Help the others,” he groaned, “don’t let her escape, Jet, for God’s sake.”
I nodded and started forward, seeing the flashes move off to the side of the building deeper into the surrounding shadows. Shapes were glimpsed circling each other and lashing out with attacks, but which were Enforcers and which Selena I had no idea.
I ran towards them. But a scampering drew my attention to the left. The demon had recovered and was scuttling rapidly into the conflict ahead of me, closing in from the flank in a rush of blinding speed.
“Demon incoming!” I yelled. The warning went unheard under SNAPS and POPS.
I broke into a sprint, firing a blind bolt at the hunched creature and missing, just in time to have my eyes assaulted by a series of staccato flashes. I shielded my face and something limp went rocketing past, spraying my face with warm liquid. I tasted blood and realised the figure had been an Enforcer.
More SNAPS illuminated the darkness, pulsing light up the side of the towering building. Ahead, from the blurs and shadows, came the strangled screaming of a man in pain.
I took a step towards it and felt myself flung suddenly to the ground, head bouncing sharply off the asphalt. Whether the blast was from Selena, or a panicked Enforcer, I did not know. But all at once I regretted removing the helmet.
Then I was wondering why I had decided to nap on the floor. A voice from somewhere nearby, however, was ringing out as someone screamed in agony. I cursed them for being so inconsiderate.
Reality began to return and I became aware of a hand
stroking my cheek. The sensation made me smile.
“Selena,” my muzzy brain told me, and the flutter in my stomach exploded. “She was here recently, wasn’t she? So it must be her. It must be her…”
I was in a gigantic training hall; the one with the enormous windows and ridiculously high ceiling; the one where she had reached out and caressed my cheek; the one where she had smiled at me. How beautiful she had been, with the sunlight streaming in and igniting her hair like black threads of silk. The word ‘love’ had sprung to mind in that moment, and now, as I felt that hand on my cheek again, my stomach shuddered gleefully and the fluttering engulfed my body like butterfly wings.
My eyes opened. Looking down at me was the face of Gloria Stephania, the corners of her mouth curled up into a misshapen smile. One clawed hand fondled my cheek as, from nearby, came the shrieks of a badly injured Enforcer.
I froze. Adrenalin flushed into my heart. The warning buzz exploded into a frenzied roar. I readied myself to fend off an attack, but it never came. The demon continued to stroke my cheek, its bony hand like a cluster of twigs. It gazed at me lovingly and crooned.
Footsteps sounded nearby and I heard the Enforcer’s van door open. A second later the engine fired up.
“Madre, déjalo en paz,” came Selena’s voice.
The demon ignored her.
“Madre!”
It looked up with a scowl.
“Te dije que los dejes en paz! Vámonos!”
Finally it stood and headed for the van.
I rolled over. The demon moved towards the vehicle’s passenger door, then faded away. The van reversed, executed a three point turn, and disappeared up the road.
Balance - Book 2 Page 23