by Drew Hayes
Even with our exceptional speed, it took us nearly a full minute to ascend the high reaches of the industrial stairs. At last we came to a small platform with a door marked “Employees Only.”
“That just seems cruel,” I said, pointing at the sign. June shot me a curious glance, so I continued. “It makes more sense to have the sign at the bottom. Imagine if someone was all the way down there, curious about what was at the top, and they climbed that whole set of stairs just to be disappointed. Sure, it’s not a big deal for us; however, that might have been truly taxing for a human.”
“Fred, stop talking.”
“My apologies. I was just struck by how it—”
“No, Fred, stop talking because I need to concentrate,” June said, her voice surprisingly patient. “I can feel a slight trace of magic up here.”
“Ah. Right. Shutting up now.”
June closed her eyes and inched carefully toward the door. She pressed her slender fingers against its cold metal surface, face so close that if the door were flung open it would easily break her nose, or it would if that exceptional speed of hers didn’t extend to her reflexes as well as it did to her legs. It was hard to say how long she stood like that; time spent trying to be quiet and still tends to stretch out in odd directions. Thankfully, June finally broke the silence, and with good news at that.
“They’re here,” she said softly. “I can’t be sure where, or if the thief is still around them, but I can tell they’re nearby.” She reached around to the small of her back and removed her gun from its holster. It was smaller than Krystal’s sidearm—my girlfriend preferred the sort of weapon that could cleave limbs off bodies with a single shot. June’s was smaller and built for precision. It matched her personality well.
“From here on, things get dangerous,” June warned. “Normally, I’d tell you to wait out here, but we’re going into a situation with an unknown parahuman whose capabilities are a mystery. The one thing we do know, however, is that they’re adept at staying hidden. Add in that it will be dark as hell up here, and that means I need as many eyes as I can get, especially vampire ones, just in case our villain tries to get the jump on me. All you need to do is play lookout, no trying to be a hero and getting involved. Just because our thief has been peaceful and working in the shadows doesn’t mean they have to. It’s entirely possible that this person has plenty of power to throw around and just prefers the convenience of staying hidden. That option won’t exist when they’re cornered, so you’d better brace for anything.”
I gave a small nod to signal my understanding. Much as I loathed getting tangled up in these situations, June was right about plunging into the unknown. It was always dangerous, and my extra vision might very well make the difference between a successful surprise attack and a thwarted failure. June clearly wasn’t my biggest fan, and she’d done little to ingratiate herself to me thus far, but it didn’t matter. She was important to Krystal, and that made her important to me. Such is the burden of love and friendship.
“I’m going to pull open the door in a minute. When I do, I’ll jump forward, in case anything is nearby, and as soon as that happens, I want you to do a quick scan for our thief. If they try to bolt, give me directions. If they rush us, give me a warning. Under no circumstances, none, are you to pursue or engage. Clear?”
“Understood,” I said.
June gave a half-hearted roll of her eyes, then grabbed the door handle firmly in her clutches.
“One, two, three, go!”
7.
June’s voice had barely stopped reverberating in my ear by the time the sound of the door opening reached me. She was through it almost faster than I could track, gun held at the ready as she stepped onto a metal grating. Not wanting to fall behind, I quickly peered over her shoulder and scouted the area.
We were at the top level of the convention center, with black metal catwalks stretching across the ceiling like a steel spider’s web. The railing only came up to roughly hip-level—which I felt had to be some sort of safety-code violation—and they had black sheeting covering everything up to the rails. While this undoubtedly made it easier to walk around and not accidently slip a leg through a gap, it also created an excellent area for someone of small stature to duck down and hide.
“See anything?” June asked.
“No movement, but with the sheeting in place, it’s impossible for me to say for certain we’re alone,” I admitted.
“What about a scent?”
That, truthfully, hadn’t occurred to me. Smell was one of the senses I’d used the least since my death, at least in a capacity beyond detecting floral notes in a decanting merlot. It was undeniably useful, as Richard had demonstrated late last year when I first met him, but it didn’t generally provide much utility in my day-to-day life. Practiced or not, it was one of my skills though, so I decided to give it a try.
I inhaled deeply, mentally pushing aside the selective attention I generally kept in place. The world around me seemed to come alive in a symphony of scents. Metal was what hit me first, sharp and clear, followed by the more mellow odors of grease and oil. Next came the soft crackle of ozone I assumed was from the now shut-off light bulbs. I caught a strong whiff of June as well, which was a curious experience altogether. It’s hard to put down exactly what June smelled like—the closest I can come is to say it was like the scent of roses blooming in the snow. These were the most prevalent scents that hit me, but there were so many smells overall that I nearly lost count. Unfortunately, none of them were things that sang out as “weapons” or “thief” to me.
“Sadly, that appears to be a bust as well,” I said. “How about your tingle?”
“Just so many ways you could have phrased that better.” June sighed. “It got stronger when I opened the door, but it isn’t exactly a compass. I know there’s magic up here, but the where is pretty much a crap shoot.”
“Now would be an excellent time for some more intuition.”
“No, now would be a great time for methodical searching,” June countered. “I’ll walk in front, you watch from behind. We go row by row until we’ve either cleared the area or found the weapons. If our thief is up here and makes a break for it, let me handle it.”
“You won’t get any argument from me,” I assured her.
June nodded and started forward, moving to the nearest catwalk. They were set up like parallel lines, running across the ceiling to allow access to lights at any given point. At both edges and in the direct center were catwalks that ran perpendicular, so that one could access the other walks. We’d started out on one of the edges and went through a run of grating directly in the middle. While we could see most of it just by looking directly down it, there were a few areas at the corners of the intersecting walks that were hard to view without getting close. As we neared the first such area, I held my breath (not that it mattered if I breathed), but June and I walked past without finding either the thief or the stolen goods.
We cleared the next row just the same, and the next, and the next. By the time we hit row five out of what I estimated to be twenty, my nerves were beginning to calm down just a touch. In fact, I was so relaxed that I barely jumped at all when June broke the silence by speaking to me.
“Tell me something, Fred: what are you hoping to get out of a relationship with an agent?”
“Um . . . do you mean . . . marriage? Because, while I don’t particularly object to the idea, Krystal and I haven’t even been dating for a full year, so we’ve yet to discuss that sort of long-term possibility.”
“No, not marriage. I mean, why are you dating her? Krys’s attraction I sort of get; after what happened with my brother, she would obviously have been more into guys who were stable and trustworthy. But you? You’re clearly a coward, and I don’t mean that maliciously. You should be scared. You’re a soft man in a very dangerous world; fear is the logical reaction. It just makes me wonder why such a logical, non-confrontational, insecure guy like you would really want to be wi
th an agent. We invite chaos and carnage wherever we go, and being around us means never knowing peace or safety. What makes a guy like you want to date someone like that? My guess is that it’s convenience. Krys was the only girl willing to give you a shot, so you decided to be with her whether it really made you happy or not.”
For a moment, there was no sound, save the soft rattle of the grate shaking with our steps and the gentle murmur from the convention floor below. With a question that loaded, I assumed June was prepared to tear apart whatever justification I offered up. She wanted to rip into the relationship Krystal and I had, and no amount of clever responses was going to change that feeling. So, with no options for glibness or avoidance possible, I fell back on the one thing I knew I could defend.
I told the truth.
“You know, in the beginning, I think that’s probably exactly what it was.”
June didn’t stop walking, but her pace did slow down noticeably.
“Back at the reunion, through the LARP where we met Neil, perhaps even into Vegas, we were probably together simply out of convenience. She was interested in me, which fit my requirements, and I was safe, which fit hers.”
“Then I—”
“However, that is only where things began, the reason why we started our relationship.” I made no apology for cutting her off as we approached the intersection of our current row, steps moving carefully. “As we grew to know one another, we realized how well we complemented each other, and genuine affection began to grow; the kind born of true adoration, instead of just convenience. So, to answer your question fully, what I get from Krystal is simply that I get to be with Krystal. Not a woman, not an agent: Krystal. I am . . . very fond of her, and she’s the one I want to spend my time around.”
“Cute speech,” June said. “Couldn’t quite get the L-word out though, huh?”
“I am not very good at showing emotions,” I admitted. “But even if I were, I was raised to believe the first time a man admits to loving someone, it should be to that person’s face, not said in secret conversation behind their back.”
“That’s surprising,” June said.
“Not at all, it’s a perfectly reasonable sentiment.”
“Not that, ding-dong, that.” She pointed to the corner, where our current catwalk intersected with the length-wise one. There, sitting unguarded, were the three weapons we were currently looking for. The one I had been unable to look away from only hours earlier, The Blade of the Unlikely Champion, sat poised atop the other two.
“Oh. Yes, that is rather surprising.”
June holstered her gun and bent down toward the pile. “Surprising or not, this takes a lot of pressure off of us. Let’s get these back downstairs. Then we can hunt this stealing prick down.”
As she hunched over, a small, shockingly quick blur bolted forth from the shadows and struck, hitting her on the ass and sending her sprawling over the railing without so much as a moment to react. It happened so quickly that she still had a weapon clutched in her hand as she was sent airborne. June tumbled over once, allowing me a perfect view of the terrified look on her face as the world suddenly disappeared beneath her, and then began to plummet toward the all-too-distant convention floor below.
Just like that, I was suddenly stuck on a cat-walk, alone, with the thief whose glowing yellow eyes were already turning in my direction.
8.
Had I faced this situation even a month sooner, there would have been a very different outcome. Then, even with all the physical blessings that vampirism had provided, I simply would not have been fast enough to react. But that was before I’d been given a single drop of Gideon’s blood. Vampires can take on abilities from other parahumans by drinking from them; it’s what makes us both powerful and feared, even among other supernatural creatures. True, Gideon had only given me one drop of his blood, but Gideon was one of the oldest known dragons in the world. That made his blood extra potent, and gave me the edge I needed to keep the day from turning into a tragedy.
As June tumbled over the railing and the thief turned their attention toward me, I bounded over the edge as well, jamming my foot into the small gap between the metal sheeting and the grated walkway. The distinct and (unfortunately) increasingly familiar sound of bending metal reached my ears as I stretched forward, hoping against hope that my makeshift anchor point was enough to hold the both of us. Of course, that would only matter if I could reach June in the first place.
The shove had sent her over, but thankfully hadn’t flung her far, which meant I was merely racing gravity instead of distance as well. Even with that, it was still close as I lunged forward and tried to grab the back of June’s foot. She saw me out of the corner of her eye and kicked on reflex, bringing it a few precious inches closer to my face. It was a very close call.
It just wasn’t close enough.
My long fingers closed on air as she fell away, and for a moment, my own undead heart defied gravity by sinking into my stomach despite my upside-down position. June hung there, slowly falling away, and I was powerless to reach her. All I could do was hope that half-fey were resilient enough to survive a fall from twenty staircases up.
At least, that’s all I thought I could do in that brief yet never-ending instant. Then I realized June was forcing herself into a somersault so that her upper body would face me. It didn’t make sense why she would bother—her arms were shorter than her legs, and those were already out of reach—until I saw the flash of gold and black clutched in her left hand. Her plan finally sank in, and I readied myself for one more shot at saving her. June finished her flip and faced me, thrusting her arm and the object clutched within it toward me. My fingers stretched to meet them, and this time they managed to close firmly.
Firmly around the hilt of The Blade of the Unlikely Champion.
I must confess now, that, upon hearing that name, I’d wondered if perhaps the destiny that had driven it from its protective housing was a path that was meant to bring it to me. Forgive the egotism, but do we not all, on occasion, like to believe we have it in us to be better versions of ourselves? That if the moment were to call on us, we could respond with previously unseen strength and courage? It is that persistent delusion on which I blame the brief moment of fear that rippled through me when I grabbed The Blade. What if I were its chosen one and accidentally unsheathed it? On top of the implications and responsibilities, June would be taking the long-drop for sure.
Luckily, it turned out The Blade of the Unlikely Champion had at least some standards in choosing its wielder, as it remained so firmly rooted in its sheath that I would have sworn the two were welded together. We hung there only for a moment, then I pulled myself up with my leg and took hold of the grating with my free hand. It was far from anything I would ever call “safe,” but it was also a far sight better than we’d been even two seconds prior.
“I can’t believe it,” June said, face surprisingly stoic for a woman dangling over a massive fall.
“Me neither. Where were these reflexes when Krystal dropped my favorite decanter last week?”
“Actually, I can’t believe that was the choice you made,” June said. This time, however, her voice didn’t come from the end of a sword. It came from directly above me, where she was standing with her hand outstretched. “Come on, I’ll pull you up.”
My eyes narrowed, a gesture which certainly would have been more intimidating if my glasses hadn’t been knocked askew in the hurried rescue. “You can teleport?”
“It would be more accurate to say I shifted my position in the world, but your version isn’t entirely wrong.” June wiggled her fingers, still waiting for me to take her hand. Part of me dearly wanted to slap it away, but I wasn’t quite so certain that I wanted to get back on her bad side while she was standing there and I was merely dangling.
With a small and defeated sigh, I reached up, sword still in hand, and she took hold of my forearm. Whether it was magic or strength, I have no idea, but June hefted me back onto the
catwalk as easily as if she were moving a sack of foam.
As soon as I was safe, I noticed the hooded figure that had struck her sitting nearby, face still obscured by shadows, save for its glowing yellow eyes. It made no attempt to attack either of us, nor did it go after the weaponry. It didn’t take me long to put things together after that.
“This was you, wasn’t it? This was you all along. That thing is a friend of yours, and you had it steal the weapons when you pushed me down.”
“That ‘thing’ is a brownie, a spirit that serves the fey, and his name is Grelthidolk. And he’s a very good boy, too, yes he is.” June reached down and scratched the back of the creature’s hooded head, which resulted in the brownie kicking one leg against the metal grating.
“What about the things that were stolen before our weapons?”
“What did you think I was doing while you and Krys were putting the booth together?” June shot back.
“Okay, enough of the what and how, just tell me one thing: why? You’re an agent, you’re supposed to be the good guy. Why on earth would you steal these things?”
“First off, you can’t steal what belongs to you,” June pointed out. “And as an Agency rep, these are technically my property as much as Krys’s. Secondly, I never took anything from the others, just moved stuff about so it would be misplaced. We told you paranoia runs rampant at these things; it only took a nudge. As for why, that should be the most obvious part: I wanted to test you.”
“How in the high heavens was this a test for me?”
“You can tell a lot about a person by the way they react when they don’t have time to think,” June said, bending down and grabbing the other two weapons. “It gives you the sort of look at their soul that can’t be faked. If you’d gone after the weapons, keeping them and, by extension, Krys safe, then I’d have known you were a dedicated man. The sort of fellow who would always put the mission first, regardless of what it was. If you’d gone after Grelthidolk, then I’d have known you were a vengeful man, the kind who would never tolerate harm coming to the people you loved.”