Poseidon's Scar
Page 31
“You are, clearly,” Simon said. Just past Echo’s shoulder, Simon caught Clarissa staring at him in horror, pointing frantically at the guy in the pirate costume.
“Sort of,” Echo said. She’d related most clearly the events of the night of the attack, admirably vague about the cause and the resolution, but enough for Simon to work with. He’d have to write something up about this, and he told them as much.
“But you can leave us out of it, right?” Yuri said, hopefully
“Well as of right now, I only have two of your first names, and that guy hasn’t even said anything to me,” Simon said, pointing to the guy who looked like a cross between a mixed martial arts fighter and a supermodel. “But I’m telling you the truth. We track weird phenomena. The best thing you can do is give me some reason to believe it won’t happen again.”
Life in Fogarty’s Folly had taken a bizarre turn for the normal after the night the giant monster appeared in the ocean. The cultists went back to their everyday lives, and Simon went into full-on investigator mode watching them for signs of another event. Mostly they seemed ashamed, disappointed, even depressed, but otherwise, exactly as they were just days ago. Mass hysteria, mass hallucination, mob mentality, whatever it was, it faded. There were some missing folks, of course, maybe a dozen in total who never went home that night. Some, Simon suspected, were eaten like the priest, but comically there were signs that at least two of them up and bailed on their entire lives in Fogarty’s Folly, leaving with bags packed for less wacky climes. Simon couldn’t blame them. Sometimes you get caught up with weirdos and the only thing you could do was hit the reset button.
And now here were these oddballs. They all bore battle scars, the sort of bruises and scratches that said they came by their injuries hard. The silent one and the other young woman—with long, jet-black hair that contrasted with Echo’s sea-foam green undercut out of shear normalcy—studied the town curiously eyeing everyone who walked by, staring too long at cars as they idled. The pirate had his leg kicked out casually, Han Solo style, and feigned a boredom that masked the intensity with which he followed the conversation.
“Why this town?” Simon said. “That’s what I’m wondering. The cultists, the monster… this is such an insular, boring town. I don’t understand how this happened.”
“I grew up in a town just like this,” Yuri said. “Echo, too. Little towns, man. It’s where the weirdest stuff happens. People get really strange in little towns.”
“Maybe I should move,” Simon said.
“Really? I was just thinking we could set up shop here,” Yuri said.
“No,” all his companions said in unison.
“Okay then, I can see I’ve been outvoted,” he said.
“What will you say in your report, Agent Yee?” the pirate said.
“That there was a supernatural event, possibly impacted by an existing cult here in town,” he answered. “A group of unique individuals intervened. The event was stopped. And things went back to normal.”
That seemed to satisfy the costumed man, though he still watched Simon with disconcerting, half-closed eyes.
“Well, ah, listen,” Simon said. “If you ever run into trouble here on the mainland? Just ask for me. I’ll do what I can to help.”
“We won’t run into trouble,” Echo said. “But I appreciate the offer.”
“All we do is run into trouble,” Yuri said.
“We’re quitting trouble and going on vacation,” Echo said.
“Like that will ever work,” the silent man, finally speaking, said with a sharp laugh.
As if planned, they all stood up together as one—except Yuri, who struggled to jump to his feet alongside his friends. Echo gave Simon a polite nod.
“We’re trying to keep a low profile,” she said, looking dejectedly at several patrons staring at the pirate guy. “But if you run into trouble… we’re around. It’s unfortunately become our thing. Saving the world.”
“Good to know,” Simon said. They shook hands. “Take care, Echo.”
“You too, Agent Yee,” she said, and they walked away, heading for the docks.
Clarissa scooted up behind him, eyes wide.
“What. The hell. Was that?” she said.
“Something else I’m going to have to talk to my boss about,” Simon said. “I have a feeling I’m going to be stationed here for a while.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Clarissa said. “Want to open an Ishmael’s Coffee rewards card?”
“No,” Simon said.
“You get a free coffee every ten purchases,” she said. “It’s a bargain.”
“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted a job,” Simon said.
“I have a job. Managing this dump,” she said.
“How would you like to come work for the Department?” Simon said.
Clarissa stared at him with a blank expression.
“What?” Simon said. “You handled yourself really well out there. You have a natural curiosity about the weird. I think you’d make a great agent.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
“It’s gotta beat this gig,” Simon said.
“Don’t knock it,” Clarissa said. “Ishmael’s has a great benefits package.”
Simon finished his coffee, eyeing yet another town figure, a selectman, Simon knew he saw in a robe the other night. Yeah, he thought. This is going to get weirder before it gets better.
“Give it some thought,” he said. “I have a bad feeling I’m going to need a lot of help.”
Epilogue: The bargain
Anson Tessier arrived by private car at a small, private club in London. He wore a new suit, perfectly tailored, black with a shirt the color of blood. He’d recovered from his unnecessary time at sea, even had a chance to enjoy the results of it all. It had been a hassle, but he got what he went looking for, and, in the end, nothing had changed.
He had his bargaining chip, and now, he had a bargain to make.
The club had a door at street level, a heavy black door with eye slits that slammed open loudly. The bouncer on the other side of the door did not look remotely human, with green, pebbled skin and bright yellow eyes that peered out at Tessier as though assessing not just his worthiness to enter, but his worthiness to exist at all. The slot slammed shut again and the door opened, but when Tessier entered, the bouncer could not be seen.
Inside, he found a landing and stairs leading down. He began the descent. The stairs started off as black and white checkered linoleum, but as he reached a second landing, they turned to blackened stone, shining like onyx.
He descended further, where the stairs began to spiral rather than follow a straight line. Finally, perhaps two hundred steps later, he reached the bottom.
The building looked like an old mausoleum. Everything had a touch of Romanesque architecture to it, with beautiful columns and arches. But it had an alien feel as well, angles that didn’t feel right, turns that twisted his stomach. He meandered, not seeing another being, living or otherwise, until the familiar sight of Lady Natasha Grey sat waiting for him in a red velvet chair.
“You’re late,” she said, rising to her feet. She wore an elegant dress of a material that evoked metal chainmail, her fair hair cut into a bob, her eyes, as always, devoid of irises and filled with flames.
“There was a complication,” he said.
“I heard about your little complication,” the Lady Grey said. She gestured for Tessier to follow. “I personally don’t care, but your trading partner is on a schedule and does not like delays.”
“Will this impact the terms of the agreement?” Tessier asked.
“You know it will,” Natasha said. “I was able to buy you a little extra time, Tessier, but you know how exacting these beings are. They’re all about rules and contracts. You did not live up to your end of the bargain. A week late? There are late fees for these things. They’re right there in the contract.”
Tessier clenched his fists, trying not to
shake with rage.
“What are the exact costs?” he said.
The Lady Grey stopped in front of a featureless door of gray stone. She folded her arms across her chest and motioned to the door with her chin.
“I did you a favor, Tessier. Remember this,” she said. “You’ll have a chance to negotiate the terms of the contract in light of your missing the deadline. But as you were not here to broker the deal, I have simply set up a chance for you to sit down with the client face to face and figure out what that asking price should be.”
“He’s in there,” Tessier said, his throat tightening. “Right now.”
“Don’t be afraid,” Natasha said. “Actually, yes. Definitely be afraid. But don’t let him see it. They sense fear and use it as a bargaining tool. One must put on a brave face.”
“Of course,” Tessier thought.
His mind darted to Muireann, and to Barnabas Coy, that smug charlatan, and the were-shark who terrified his crew and the rest of that band of fools who cost him so much. I will destroy them, he thought, placing a hand on the stone door, attempting to calm his nerves. So help me, if I live through this, I will make their lives hell.
Anson Tessier opened the stone door and was met by a soft gust of air, hot and stale with a hint of sulfur. He took a deep breath, stood tall, and entered, revenge replacing fear in his heart.
Also by Matthew Phillion
Novels in the Indestructibles Series – in print and e-book formats
The Indestructibles (Book 1)
The Indestructibles: Breakout (Book 2)
The Entropy of Everything (the Indestructibles Book 3)
Like a Comet (the Indestructibles Book 4)
Tales from the Indestructiverse
Echo and the Sea
Poseidon’s Scar
The Indestructibles One-Shots (digital shorts)
The Soloist
Gifted
Blood & Bone
The Monsters We Make
Krampus in the City
Roll for Initiative (an Indestructibles Story) – also available in print
The Dungeon Crawlers Novella Series
The Player’s Guide to Dungeon Crawling (The Dungeon Crawlers Book 1)
The Dungeoneer’s Bestiary (The Dungeon Crawlers Book 2)
The Ghoul Slayer’s Guidebook (The Dungeon Crawlers Book 3)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Matthew Phillion is a writer, actor, and film director based in Salem, Massachusetts. He is the author of the Indestructibles YA superhero novel series, the spinoff Echo and the Sea, and the Dungeon Crawlers series of novellas. A recovering journalist, Phillion has written about healthcare, cybersecurity, mental health, pop culture, and more. He can usually be found in the company of his sidekick, Watson the Wonder Dog, or acting as manservant to his belligerent cat Harley.