The Call of Corvids

by J. C. McKenzie

  Yup. Control freak. Bear nailed it.

  The man’s dark energy vibrated off his skin and travelled in waves across the room to push against Bear.

  Bear stiffened. Too much dark energy. Fuck. The client was a dark fae lord. The power punching Bear’s senses right now confirmed he was at a severe disadvantage if the meeting turned confrontational. Bear wouldn’t walk out of here alive if the client took exception to anything he said or did. So, basically, he was fucked.

  If he had to bet money, this guy was another bored bastard who’d slipped past the barrier to try his hand at “playing reg,” a despicable practice where dark fae pranced around, pretending to be regular mortals, while enticing the very people they pretended to be into making deals they couldn’t possibly keep. The client wasn’t even particularly good at it. He only half-ass shielded his power.

  Dark fae got their name because they hailed from the Underworld. Though they had a wide range of physical traits from heights, hair colour, skin tone and build, they were all attractive and had potent magic. But the main way to identify a dark fae was their black irises, which bled out to cover the whites of their eyes when they experienced intense emotion or accessed their power. Eyes of the Underworld, like his.

  Apprehension gripped his gut. His muscles tensed and he looked for possible exits. This wasn’t the first job to trigger the fight or flight response, and it probably wasn’t the last, either. Mortals weren’t welcoming to the fae. Did the client not worry about the repercussions of exposure? Or was it simply the fae was so powerful, Bear and whomever he may or may not report to didn’t factor into his concerns at all?

  “It’s unusual for a client to ask for a face-to-face meeting over a contract,” Bear said.

  The man smiled slowly and walked over to the desk. “I don’t wish for the guild to know the particulars of this job.”

  That actually made sense. Going through the guild held a certain risk for clients. It could end up a double-edged sword. Bear nodded to concede the client’s point. “Let’s discuss the task, then.”

  The man pulled out a matching office chair on his side of the barren mahogany desk and waved at the other chair for a second time before sitting down.

  Bear swallowed a growl and sat on the stiff unused leather.

  “I require you to procure an artifact from a secure compound.”

  Bear nodded again. This information had been included in the contract along with the offered payment. That was about it, but the latter part of the contract was enough to entice Bear.

  “Who owns this compound and exactly how secure is it?” he asked.

  “The compound is owned by a merchant of sorts. Not big in the game.”

  “Does this merchant have a name?”

  The client shook his head and reached into his jacket to pull out a white business card. He placed it on the desk and slid the card across the smooth surface.

  Bear plucked the card off the desk. A number was embossed in magnetic gray on one side. He flipped it over. On the back, in elegant handwriting someone had written an address. Bear sighed. He’d prefer the owner’s name and security details, but this was enough to find out more. After all, it was a part of his job to find out this information, and even if the client provided security details, Bear always double and triple checked. He never trusted clients to pass along accurate information.

  Bear pocketed the card and returned his attention to the man. “And the artifact?”

  “The Klee-uhv Suleesh."

  Bear raised his eyebrow. A fae name, presumably for a fae artifact. “How do you spell that?”

  “C-l-a-í-o-m-h S-o-l-a-i-s.”

  Ugh. Fucking fae words with their weird fae pronunciations. He knew he should’ve taken fae in school instead of Canadian French. He mentally spelled the word out in his head repeatedly, training his brain to remember by repetitive thoughts. Claíomh Solais. Something to do with light. “What does it translate to?”

  “White glaive of light.”

  “A sword?” Bear frowned. He didn’t often steal weapons. Those jobs tended to go sideways fast.

  The client shook his head and reached into his jacket pocket again. He pulled out a phone, tapped the screen and swiped. When he found what he was looking for, he paused, hesitating before turning the phone so Bear could see the screen.

  Bear leaned forward. Definitely not a sword. A box. A little wooden box with intricately carved designs on its sides. “Any chance I can get a copy of this photo?”

  “None.”

  Bear glanced up at the cold tone. The man’s stony expression startled him. Bear’s stomach sunk. As if hearing a jail door slam shut, Bear knew, just knew, he’d somehow passed the point of no return for this contract. The man’s face and body language spelled death. Bear had seen the picture and if he backed out now, somehow, someway, he’d end up floating in the gelatinous Burrard Inlet.

  Bear swallowed. He didn’t need a copy of the photo. The artifact had already left an impression on his memory, anyway. He doubted he could forget it now. What he needed was a way out. Out of this job, out of this man’s office, out of this building. There wasn’t one. Not one that left him alive. He pushed forward instead. “Do I need any special equipment or instructions to handle the artifact?”

  Something flashed in his client’s cold gaze—a gleam, an instantaneous moment of emotion. This man wanted the Claíomh Solais. And he wanted it badly. “There’s no special handling requirements for the artifact itself. However, be warned, the moment you touch the Claíomh Solais it will most likely trigger a silent alarm.”

  “Alarms can be—”

  “Not this one. Plan to get out of there right away. A lodestone. A portal. Something. Move quickly. Get to a safe place and once there, draw these on the walls.” The man reached into his inside pocket again—making Bear wonder what else this man had stashed in there—and pulled out an aged piece of paper. He slid it across the desk like he had the card.

  Bear glanced down at the paper. “Runes?”

  “They will trap the artifact in the room and prevent anyone from portalling to you.”

  Bear studied the runes again. “When do you want it?”

  “By the end of the month.”

  Bear looked up from examining the runes. “That doesn’t give me a lot of time to plan and carry out the task.”

  “And the price I’m willing to pay for this contract compensates for the rush job, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Bear ground his teeth. Yes. It certainly did. The price tag did more than adequately compensate and was just what Bear desperately needed.

  “And you know it’s at this location?”

  “I’m certain of it. The merchant keeps it in a secure vault.”

  Bear tapped the table by the paper with the runes scribbled on it. He’d have to practice drawing these things. Artwork wasn’t one of his specialties.

  Well, not making art. Stealing it was another story.

  “Do we have a deal?” the man asked, casually, as if asking Bear if he planned to watch the game, or if he wanted some tea. As if Bear saying no wouldn’t result in anything other than a polite farewell.

  Every alarm bell rang in his head this time. Like a cacophony of seven year olds armed with recorders. Everything in his body said, “No.” But Bear didn’t get where he was today by running from tough or dangerous jobs. He took risks. Calculated ones. This man may try to double cross him, but he had a plan for that.

  Bear stood and nodded, not officially voicing consent, which the fae could and would use against him. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Something flashed across the man’s face as he stood. “One more thing.”

  Bear groaned internally. “Yes?”

  “Don’t open it.”

  Wasn’t planning on it.

  “It will be your death.”

  Well, fuck.

  Chapter Four

  “I did surveillance a lot, which sounds exciting, but it never was.”

  ~ Mir
anda Lambert

  Bear leaned back on the bench surrounded by the warm afternoon heat and the slightly off scent in the air. The mortal realm hadn’t fared well after the barrier collapse. Years of fighting, biological warfare, pollution and neglect had turned the once-beautiful environment to near ruin. Only magic borrowed, stolen or purchased from Otherkind kept the rot contained inside a perimeter of the Lower Mainland while preventing an outright collapse of the ecosystem. Hopefully with time, the earth would heal itself.

  Tasha perched on the bench’s backrest a few feet away and basked in the sun, indifferent to their less-than-ideal surroundings. Like all corvids, she adapted well. They had that in common.

  He forced his muscles to relax despite the unease crawling along his spine. This “secure compound” was a fucking fortress. Two external parameters. Multiple guards. Overlapping shifts and watches.

  Bear scowled and checked his phone. He’d set up a number of small security cameras around the compound. Now, he could sit in a nearby park and watch from multiple vantage points.

  The guards wouldn’t pose the biggest obstacle. The dark energy radiating from the gates and the security system panel at the main entrance indicated the owner relied on magic and technology in addition to manpower to guard whatever he hoarded inside.

  His mind flashed to the memory of the small wooden box. Seemed like a lot of effort to guard a chunk of dead tree. Exactly what was in the box? What else did the compound contain?

  A couple of crows swooped in and landed on the backrest of the city bench. One hopped over to Bear. Tasha squawked a warning, the bird equivalent of “back off my man,” but like all corvids drawn to his energy, they ignored her.

  “Hey boy.” Bear reached out and scratched the back of the nearest crow’s neck while he flicked between the different camera feeds.

  How in the Underworld would he pull this off?

  The other crow flapped her wings and maneuvered around Bear to land on his shoulder. When he didn’t immediately drop his phone or stop scratching her friend, she head-butted his cheek. Bear chuckled and reached over to scratch her.

  The other crow squawked and puffed out his neck feathers.

  Tasha croaked, clearly unhappy about the entire situation—how dare other birds get attention and not her.

  Bear ignored them all and continued to study the compound. If he focused hard enough on the details, he might succeed with shushing the concerns rampaging in his mind. Whomever owned this complex was loaded. Sure, merchants spent a large portion of their profits on security, but Bear had never seen anything quite like this before.

  The technology would most likely be state of the art. His normal passcodes and mediocre hacking skills wouldn’t cut it. He needed a tech upgrade.

  Luckily, he knew a guy.

  More crows called out from the surrounding trees and landed on the bench, his lap and shoulders. At one time in his life, more than thirty would’ve flocked to him by now.

  Cut it out, you guys, he told the birds. I need space.

  The crows cawed and clicked at him, head-butting and preening for attention.

  This was why he had a cat.

  Not that he hated birds. He loved them. He loved all animals. He’d pet a crocodile if it wouldn’t bite his hand off.

  But any bird from the corvid family, like crows and ravens, were drawn to his Other energy. It was a passive effect of his power. If he sat around in any place long enough, he’d draw any corvids in the area to him. Even with the dwindling numbers, without a cat to act as a natural deterrent, he’d constantly be draped with birds. That wasn’t just a minor annoyance. He’d spend all his time cleaning up bird shit and his professional career would be ruined.

  More birds flocked to him and the cars zooming down the busy road slowed down to gawk.

  Not good.

  He probably looked like one of those statues at a park that someone liberally sprinkled with birdseed.

  He shrugged the birds off. Space, please.

  The birds squawked and with a flap of wings and a flurry of feathers, they launched from the bench and his body. Even Tasha took off. They didn’t fly far. Instead, the birds perched on nearby trees and powerlines waiting for their opportunity to swoop in for more attention the moment he dropped his guard.

  A large raven remained on the bench, its long talons clutching the metalwork of the bench’s backrest. Tasha squawked a complaint somewhere in the nearby trees. Her jealous energy pinged against his own.

  Bear glared at the bird, who was by far the largest fucking raven he’d ever seen.

  The bird cocked his head and blinked his beady eyes at him.

  “Fine. You can stay.”

  The other raven clicked and if Bear didn’t know any better, he’d swear the raven laughed at him.

  Chapter Five

  “If you have any trouble sounding condescending, find a Unix user to show you how it's done.”

  ~ Scott Adams

  Text scrolled down an extra-wide monitor, stark, emotionless and an absolute contrast to the red-headed computer geek sitting in his office chair. Bear’s brother, Mike, stared at him as if he’d spontaneously sprouted a second head.

  “Come on, Mikey,” Bear said, careful not to touch anything in this cesspool his younger brother insisted on living in. The sooner Mike conquered his inner fox’s desire to mark and claim territory with his body odour, the sooner everyone remotely connected to Mike would rejoice.

  “You want a breaker box for all high-end security panels?” Mike double blinked at him. Though he had red hair instead of black, a slight runner’s build and a different biological father, at times like this, especially when Mike scowled at him, Bear swore he looked at a mirror image of his younger self.

  Raven, their sister, was adamant Mike would end up with Terry’s lean frame instead of taking after Bear’s bulkier figure, but Bear wasn’t so convinced.

  Mike was only nineteen and would start his second year in the nearby university’s computer engineering program this fall. He spent the majority of his time in front of a screen. If Mike spent a little more time with weights, and a little less time gaming, he’d bulk up. But Mikey never seemed particularly concerned with his appearance. He marched to his own drum, and there was nothing wrong with that. At least not in Bear’s opinion, and he’d punch anyone who said otherwise. The only people allowed to mock Mike and make his life miserable were their sisters and Bear.

  Workouts were the least of Mike’s concerns. If Terry ever found out his baby boy provided his older brother with illegal materials to commit crimes, he’d lose it. Terry was a private investigator who conducted business by the book. He might actually burst out of his khaki pants and polo shirt if he found out what Mike was up to “for fun.”

  “Does Rayray know you’re visiting?” Mike asked. “She’ll be pissed she missed you.”

  Bear shook his head. “Isn’t she out on surveillance anyway?”

  “Yeah. Mom and Dad are with Juni at some volleyball summer camp. You really picked your time.” Mike tapped his fingers on the keyboard and avoided eye contact. “Almost as if you wanted to avoid the family.”

  Bear grunted and looked away. Geniuses were so annoying sometimes. Of course, he was avoiding the family. Well, not Rayray, of course. Twins before wins. But he couldn’t face his stepfather’s disapproval or Mom’s concern.

  “Staying for roast night?”

  Bear cringed.

  “I’ll take that as a no.” His ’lil bro had somehow perfected the art of dry retorts since he saw him last. “Is that everything you need?”

  Bear frowned and studied Mike’s tense mouth and crinkled brow. “Yeah, I guess. Unless you can think of anything else that will help with this job.”

  Mike swore under his breath.

  What was his problem?

  “If I come up with anything else,” Mike said. “I’ll send it to your phone, but for now I’ll concentrate on what you’ve requested.”

  “Thanks, bro. You
’re the best,” Bear said, and meant it. Mike had become very capable at what he did and would make an excellent computer engineer one day. Or hacker. Or both.

  “The breaker boxes will take time,” Mike continued trying to fill the awkward silence with tech talk.

  “How long?”

  Mike shrugged. “A day or two? I have everything I need. I just have to make them.”

  Bear nodded. “Any luck on the owner or blueprints?”

  Mike sighed, which in Mike’s world meant, “sort of.” Failure didn’t exist in Mike’s reality. Success was only a matter of time and equipment. “The owner is listed as S. Dow. The home address listed is for a West Vancouver convenience store.”

  “Fake address.”

  “Obviously.” Mike turned to his computer and pulled up a window. He leaned back to let Bear look at the screen.

  “What’s this?”

  “The official blueprint on file submitted to the city of Vancouver. I also sent the file to your email.”

  Bear took one glance at the schematic and scowled. “Fake as well.”

  Mike nodded and closed the window for the browser. “They didn’t even bother trying to match the actual dimensions of the building or topography of the site. It’s so lazy it’s insulting.”

  Bear didn’t need to ask how Mikey knew what the compound actually looked like. He would’ve found aerial shots online or failing that, he’d use the drone.

  “So, no name, no address, and no building plans. Why are you smiling like you just came out of a titty bar for the first time?”

  Mike’s grin widened and hit the enter key on his keyboard. Bear’s phone pinged with a message. He pulled it out and tapped to access the text from Mike. The message contained a picture of a pretty woman, Asian descent, along with a name, address, and contact information. Mike even included a short bio of her professional affiliations and recent social media posts.