Hypnos

by RJ Blain

  “Exactly.”

  “Dumbass said you’re running on empty, and you look like it. When was the last time you had something to eat? He screamed something about you not having slept since Saturday.”

  “Calling your boss a dumbass isn’t all that professional, Eddy.”

  Dragons cared little about professionalism, but if I did get into trouble, I had a dragon. Some sacrifices were worth making.

  “He deserves it for not getting off his lazy ass and coming with us. Two dragons are better than one dragon. Stay out of trouble while we look for your quad, and I’ll take you out for a bite before dropping you off at home. I could use a nibble, too.”

  In Eddy language, a nibble meant she’d be eating enough for five to help fuel her magic. I’d ignore the implication she’d shifted recently and be grateful I wouldn’t have to fend for myself. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  “I try. What’s the deal with the ping on your record? The cops are sniffing at you like you’re a powdered donut no one has claimed.”

  Damn it. I bet Eddy had been on her way to the office on my boss’s order because of the record ping. “Detective Hunk barged into my office demanding to know where I was last night. I asked if I’d missed a blind date again.”

  “Olivia, you didn’t.”

  “I did, then I introduced myself with my Chinese name to make him uncomfortable. Turns out he’d done a check into Chinese people with a high magic rating. What would I do with a fish paperweight?”

  “Hell if I know. You’re not the paperweight kind. Who are we meeting at the mall?”

  “Luke and his quad. I also told him to call in backup if he felt it was needed, and they’re all to be tracked.”

  “This is going to be fun. Not.” Eddy drummed her hands against the steering wheel before sighing and easing into traffic. “You armed?”

  I eyed my purse, which did have my gun. “It’s in my purse. I’m too tired to carry, so you can carry it for me when we get to the mall.”

  “Stick with me, then. My brother will kill me if I let you get hurt in the field. I’m fresh and fully loaded.”

  I disliked having a bodyguard, but until I got some sleep, a kid with a popsicle stick could take me out. “Roger.”

  “Wow. You really are tired. I wouldn’t worry too much. Those dimwits probably went to have their nails done and got drunk on mimosas and forgot to call in. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  If Oakland’s residents learned the FBI’s supernatural enforcers and investigators were all cracked pots with alcoholic tendencies, our department would be screwed. The rare non-drinkers with better-than-normal stability levels would have to do the job of four, and it just wouldn’t work.

  “I can’t stop them from drinking once they’re off duty, Eddy. I can’t even stop them from skipping off an hour early as long as they’re ready to roll if I call them in. Damn it, most of them were drafted. It’s a miracle they show up for work at all.”

  “Two years in a quad or ten years behind bars. Plus good pay. It’s not all bad. You have five career quads. In our business? That’s legendary.”

  I grunted. “I do remind them the salary and benefits are hard to beat.”

  “Sure, the benefits are just great—as long as you don’t mind psychotic survivors trying to kill you with powers they can’t control because they’re too stupid or stubborn to get help. There’s no excuse for that.”

  “Draft dodgers aren’t necessarily bad people or psychotic. Some just want to be human again. It’s not their fault they were in a bomb’s radius.”

  It had taken me years to get to that point of acceptance.

  “Stop being so nice, Olivia. It’s creepy.”

  Despite everything, I laughed. “I already met my quota of evil today. Just ask Detective Hunk.”

  “You better watch yourself, woman. I just might.”

  Chapter Two

  The Oakland police and a fleet of ambulances blocked the road to the shopping center. Eddy turned on her emergency lights and approached the barricade. An officer flagged for her to halt, and she rolled down the window. “FBI Quad Supervisor,” she announced, showing off her FBI badge and pointing in my direction.

  “You’ll need to move your vehicle and park down the street. We’ve got casualties on the sidewalk and street.”

  “Number of deaths?” I asked.

  “Two.”

  “Injured?”

  “A hundred and eleven unresponsives and rising.”

  Unresponsives? I unbuckled my belt, grabbed my purse, and got out of the SUV. “Eddy, get parked and notify the boss we’ve got a mass incident on our hands. If that detective is still at the agency, put in a request for his file. You know how I feel about strange coincidences.”

  “You hate them, I know. It could just be a strange coincidence. They do happen.” Eddy grimaced. “Rarely, but they do happen.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences,” I grumbled. “Especially when I’m the one who has been accused. Tell your brother I’ll have a hissy fit over it if I don’t get my way.”

  “All right. I’ll tell him you’re tired, ready to have a hissy fit, and to figure out what’s going on with the cop. I’ll go park. Don’t wander, don’t get into trouble, don’t toy with the nice police officers, and stay with them. Remember, they’re the nice police officers. You got to play with an officer today. You’ve reached your quota.” My boss’s sister waggled her finger at me. “I mean it. Be nice.”

  “All right, all right.” Shaking my head over Eddy’s pushiness, I showed the cops my FBI badge before slipping through the barricade. “Give me the brief version.”

  The cops, all veterans looking ready to retire, exchanged long looks. That they’d brought out the experienced officers worried me.

  Then again, with over a hundred victims, I bet the police department had called in every officer possible to handle the mess. As soon as my boss found out about the incident, he’d be doing the same—and asking me to get my ass in gear and get my quads on the move.

  To my surprise, the only woman present cleared her throat and replied, “Two hours ago, there was a mass incident. We’re flagging it as a possible terrorism attack, possibly some form of nerve gas with quick dissipation. Our scanners aren’t picking up any radiation.”

  No radiation, no magic—and no quads. Still, I had to try. “Have you called for a quad?”

  “It’s not registering magic, whatever it is. No nuclear residues, either.”

  Despite the complete banning of nuclear devices following the conclusion of World War III, some idiot found the necessary materials and tried to build a bomb to strengthen the magic flooding the world. Sometimes, they got it just right, detonating them in a public place and creating a new batch of survivors with few fatalities.

  It was when they got it wrong that things got bad. People like me happened when the bomb techs got it wrong. Determined to avoid wallowing in the past, I lifted my chin and directed my attention to the police officer, who challenged me with a narrow-eyed gaze.

  “Scanner sensitivity?”

  “Mid-grade.”

  “You can miss a lot with a mid-grade scanner. Are there any conscious witnesses?”

  As one, the cops shook their heads.

  What looked like magic, acted like magic, and lacked explanation was often magic. I’d give them the benefit of the doubt for the moment; just as I’d danced with Detective Raymond, they’d dance with me to avoid losing their spot as top dog on the case.

  Ultimately, it would end up on my lap; I wasn’t buying nerve gas. Nerve gas would’ve left witnesses. I considered the problem, debating if it was worth going over their heads to order a high-sensitivity scanner. Magic came in many forms, but all magic came bundled with nuclear radiation of some sort or another. Geiger counters served as primary detectors, usually falling into the mid-grade range. Unless one of their scanners detected something, the police opted against involving the FBI.

  My next words would ann
oy the hell out of them, and for a rare change, I didn’t like delivering the potential bad news. “It could be a new type.”

  No one wanted to find a new type of supernatural, especially not one the mid-range scanners couldn’t detect. World War III had changed everything, every nuke dropped adding to the chaos of magic exploding into the world. Instead of the world dying to fallout, the ashes either killed or birthed powers.

  For a lack of anything else to call it, it’d been dubbed magic.

  The new supernatural absorbed the radiation, allowing life to go on and the planet to recover from the treacheries of man.

  I should’ve died the day New York City had vanished, flattened by the largest bomb ever developed. Less than a percent had survived.

  What should’ve been a college research trip had turned into a disaster. I shivered, clenched my teeth, and hated myself for sliding back into a past I wished I could change.

  Reliving the worst day of my life could wait until later.

  Since the cops weren’t talking, I’d have to push and hope for the best. “I’ve got a missing quad on my hands, so maybe we can help each other out. How large of an area does this incident cover?”

  The woman relaxed, and she offered a sympathetic smile. At least the police and the FBI got along on that front; nobody liked when we had people go missing in the field. “We’ve got casualties down a ten block stretch and in several stores so far. The two deaths were the result of unconscious drivers. There are injuries from other accidents, but it could’ve been much worse.”

  I’d take any silver lining I could. “Estimate on possible fatalities?”

  “We don’t expect any more fatalities from injuries, but we can’t wake any of the non-responsive victims,” the woman replied, turning and pointing down the street. “The paramedics are checking on them, so if you’re going deeper into the zone, please don’t touch anyone. They only look dead.”

  “Vitals?”

  “All strong; to all appearances, there’s nothing wrong with any of them. It’s like they’re asleep. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it. If it wasn’t for the scanner not detecting anything, I’d claim it was magic.”

  I’d never seen anything like it, either. “Could be a haunter or another incorporeal; mid-range scanners won’t pick them up. Got a medium handy? If not, give me the go-ahead to help your investigation, and I’ll call one in. We’ll call it even for letting me poke my nose around where it doesn’t belong.”

  While grim, the woman smiled. “I can authorize that. All right. No, we don’t have a medium on our teams. Mediums typically wash out of the force, especially when it comes to violent crimes.”

  Ironically, when it came to the odd cases I wanted to blame on haunters and other incorporeals, I would’ve called Adrianna’s quad. When it came to incorporeals, they could handle just about anything. Retrieving my phone from my purse, I called Luke.

  “I didn’t miss a check-in, did I?” he answered.

  “No. I’m at the city center. I’m stalking you because I’m a helicopter boss with overprotective tendencies. Has Ethan had a look yet? I’m assuming you’re aware of the incident. If not, come down to the street.”

  “We’re aware. He threw up trying. Something’s going on, and whatever it is, it’s big. He’s never felt anything like it.”

  Damn it, damn it, damn it. “Any luck finding Adrianna and her quad?”

  “There’s a lot of vics up here, boss. We’re looking, but it could take a while.”

  “All right. I’m on the street. I’ve made an offer for the police to consult with a medium, but if Ethan’s getting sick trying, I’ll see about a high-grade scanner and someone with lower sensitivity. While I wait on you, I’ll get the cops to start talking. Maybe they’ve—”

  “Hold that thought, boss. I think we’ve found them.”

  “I will smack you around if you repeat this, but I’ll be happy if you find them conscious in a nail salon sipping mimosas and not answering their phones.”

  “Ethan?” Luke asked. “Any response?”

  I waited, so tense I trembled.

  Luke sighed. “Adrianna is unresponsive, but the others are groggy. Conscious, but groggy.”

  In good news, having one of my quad members a vic would dump the investigation on my lap; I was the biggest hitter the FBI had available, she was one of mine, and I didn’t share with others very well.

  That, plus I could handle almost anything anyone threw at me on the right side of a nap.

  “Get Adrianna to the FBI clinic, flag it as a potential supernatural terrorism attack, and offer the cops any help they might need until the case is bumped our way. Is your backup here yet?”

  “They’re on the way; they were near the piers handling a request.”

  “Assign them to Adrianna. I don’t want her without a quad member at all times. Get the rest of her team to the office for questioning, and call ahead and warn security they might be at risk.”

  “And you, boss?”

  “Eddy’s here. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “We’ll be on the street as soon as Adrianna is on route to the clinic. You shouldn’t be alone.”

  As Luke wasn’t the kind to give me pushback without a good reason, I reined in my urge to snap at him and took a moment to evaluate the situation. When I came up with absolutely no reason for him to give me pushback about Eddy handling my security, I asked, “What’s got you rattled?”

  “It’s a horror show up here, boss. Most of the vics are in the hall or the entries of stores. They’re just lying on the ground, dropped like they were tapped in the head. Suddenly.”

  “And Adrianna?”

  “She was waiting for a massage. I think they were coming down from a bad shift. They went in to unwind; the rest of her quad was deeper in the spa. The employees who weren’t affected tell us it’s normal for clients waiting to catch a nap. Everyone in the waiting area is comatose except for the receptionist. She’s groggy like the rest of Adrianna’s quad, but she’s a little incoherent.”

  “Incoherent how?”

  “She’s rambling.”

  “About what?”

  “She’s terrified a giant ghostly fish is going to devour her soul.”

  I hated, hated, hated whenever someone said something was probably a strange coincidence. Without fail, it ceased being a strange coincidence the instant someone was foolish enough to make the damned claim. “Please tell me the fish isn’t a koi.”

  “How’d you guess, boss? Had I mentioned it?”

  “No. Call it an educated guess. Take care of Adrianna and make certain the rest of her quad makes it back to the office. I’ll ping you if I venture off the street.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be all right? Ethan’s about to have a conniption over here. Whatever happened here has gotten him in a tizzy. I haven’t seen him like this in years.”

  I tried to forget the incident from a few years ago when a new type of haunter had taken up residence in Ethan and led his quad on a merry chase for a week. It’d taken Eddy and I working together to exorcise the haunter.

  She’d scared it out assuming her dragon form, and I’d masked the true nature of my magic with water magic to cage the damned thing until the rest of Ethan’s quad could lay it to rest.

  Fortunately for all of us, after its residency in Ethan, it’d been willing enough to accept its memento mori and move on.

  “I’ll be all right,” I promised. “Take care of Adrianna and her quad first, Luke. That’s an order.” I hung up and turned to the cops, who watched me. “It’s supernatural. One of my quad members is a vic, and the quad sent to find them has a medium. He about threw up trying to identify what’s going on. You should call in Detective Raymond Davis. He should be at the Oakland FBI resident agency. I have reason to believe this incident is related to a case he’s assigned to. Tell him one of the witnesses upstairs claims to have seen an incorporeal aquatic.”

  The cops gaped at me, and once again, the woman
took the lead. “An incorporeal aquatic?”

  “A ghost fish. This should be right up his alley.”

  Without waiting for them, I marched into the fray and got on the phone with California’s main FBI branch to report a probable supernatural terrorism event involving more casualties than I wanted to think about. Because I played by the book despite my serious case of cranky at Detective Hunk, I gave him his owed credit and my recommendation he should be assigned the case due to his stolen koi statuette.

  If the man was worth his badge, he’d make the most of his chance to work in high-level investigations. Either way, he’d be out of my hair soon enough, as he’d have a much bigger problem than little old me on his hands within ten minutes.

  No matter what anyone might say, while I was a bitch, I was a fair one. Hopefully, Detective Hunk wouldn’t hate me too much when he found out how hard life could be when sleep was a luxury no one on the front lines could afford.

  Why the hell hadn’t a quad been called in? There was nothing natural about the situation, and I didn’t need magic to tell me that. Something had taken a stroll down the street and knocked everyone out in a ten to twenty foot radius. I stole measuring tape from someone in forensics and calculated distances.

  At the broadest point, everyone in an eighteen foot radius had fallen comatose. Inside the shopping center, the area of influence had petered down to five feet, which was where Luke and his quad found me. To add to my troubles, they had Eddy with them.

  When had she abandoned ship and joined the dark side?

  Luke glared, got in my face, and grunted. I grunted back. The stand-off lasted a few minutes before he snapped, “You were supposed to be on the street.”

  I held up my measuring tape. “I was mathing. I went where the math took me. The math took me here. You can’t question math, Luke.”

  Eddy snatched the tape out of my hand. “The forensics guys wouldn’t give her the radius of the event, so she decided to measure it herself. A cop tried to stop her, and she put him in time out.”

  I had? If I’d put him in time out, which involved a bubble of water and just enough air inside to make my victim nervous but alive, I would’ve been enjoying peace, quiet, and much-needed rest in a specialized cell in prison. “I ignored him, Eddy. That’s hardly worth telling Luke about.”