Embracing the Shadows (19 page)

Hector, his pregnant wife Anna, and their
three little dream-killers were the first to come over. Next to
show up was Miss Loretta's older sister Lynette, followed by a
handful of other neighbors. Next to last to arrive was Miss
Loretta's younger brother and his wife. Their daughter - the one
who wanted to rent my house - pulled up a few minutes later. She
was worth waiting for.

Introductions were made all around, but I had
trouble looking away from my neighbor's gorgeous niece. Miss
Loretta's brother Lamar was a healthy guy in his forties, about my
size but barrel-chested. I already knew he was a wing nut lifer -
specifically, an Air Force Captain - so I snapped him a salute when
we met. It wasn't strictly mandatory, but it showed respect.
Lamar's wife Denise was an attractive white lady with blonde and
gray hair pulled up in a bun. They lived out near Whiteman Air
Force base, which was close to the college town I went to on
weekends. Huh, small world.

Then I was introduced to Lamar and Denise's
daughter, Valerie Foster. She had dark brown hair that hung in
loose curls over smooth caramel skin. Her eyes were a bright hazel,
and she had the kind of smile that could make men do stupid things.
The derelict, Audra, had a similar effect on me, although her
appeal was all danger and lust. Valerie was sort of the opposite.
Her trim figure was sexy, but she had a simple charm and fresh good
looks.

Valerie blushed while Miss Loretta praised
her accomplishments. She'd graduated college a couple years back,
spoke three other languages, and had just recently landed a job as
some sort of copyrighter at some company downtown. All that was
great, but it also meant she was smart enough to steer clear of a
devil dog like me.

The rest of the day in Miss Loretta's front
yard went great. Everyone ate their fill, with enough leftovers for
everyone. Valerie (she asked me to call her Val) liked my house; we
made an informal agreement and she was free to move in when she
wanted. I knew that between her "Auntie Lo" and her father, Val
would keep the house in shape. I kind of wished it had issues so
that I had an excuse to come over.

As the afternoon turned to evening, neighbors
said their goodbyes. I gave Val a set of house keys and my number -
of my regular phone, not the one Viggo gave me - and told her to
call if she had any other questions about the house. I shook hands
and said my farewells, but had to endure a smothering hug from Miss
Loretta before I could leave.

Thunder warmly greeted my bag of leftovers
when I got home. Feeling lazy, I spent the rest of that evening
slumped in front of the TV. Hell, to be honest, I was a lethargic
shit for the next two days as well. I did a few necessary chores
and got in a couple short workouts, but for the most part I lounged
in calm solitude and neglected my hygiene. It was pretty damn
awesome.

CRATES

My vacation ended all too soon. There was a
long list of tasks waiting for me in the Planner. Most of it was
more mundane shit - dropping off supplies here and there, and
checking certain sewer tunnels. I didn't mind. Repetition only
familiarized me with locations.

On my second day back at work, there was a
strange chore. I was to pick up two wooden crates, deliver each one
to a different address, open them and leave. The addresses were
familiar, so I looked them up. Yep, just as I thought - both were
parks that Fletcher controlled. I used to patrol each one. A map in
the notes flagged a pick-up point; the crates were behind the
dumpster of an abandoned building. Each one was three-foot square,
and fairly heavy. First stop: Green Valley Park.

I drove into the big park just as the day
began to really heat up. A note in the Planner told me to leave
each crate in a clearly visible location, to be discreet, and not
to touch the contents within. So, fifty feet away from the first
picnic shelter along the paved park road, I unloaded the first one.
After prying open the top with a crowbar, I saw that the crate held
a large sealed plastic bag full of odd, lumpy items. Curious, I
looked closer . . .

Body parts - the crate was full of human body
parts.

Heads, feet, forearms, fingers, chunks of
flesh - you name it. Random parts of dead people all piled in
together. Some pieces were rotting. Some looked chewed on. Almost
all appeared to be severed, but not in that surgically-removed way.
More like chopped-with-an-ax kinds of cuts. Despite the heat, I got
cold chills. I backed away slowly, turned, and hurried to my
truck.

The crate I dropped off in Spire Park held
more of the same. Fletcher was going to have cops and media all
over his havens for a while. I figured he also was going to have to
do some explaining to Le Meur and the emissaries. I made a mental
note to catch the 6-o'clock news that evening.

Two nights later, I had a box of housewares -
mainly light bulbs - that Viggo wanted me to deliver to him. It was
humid down below in some unfamiliar tunnels, but at least I didn't
have to walk through any streams of shit soup. The cockroaches kept
me company.

Following the directions, I got to the end of
an abandoned shaft and had to crawl through a dry tunnel connected
to it. The snug tube ended at a small antechamber, with an open
iron door to my left. On the other side of the door was a Deviant
den, one I hadn't been to before. Except for the rough stone walls
and low ceiling, it was set up like a large office. There were even
a couple framed paintings hung up.

Viggo sat behind a big oak desk, staring at a
computer monitor with an irritated expression. Before I could offer
a greeting, he glanced at the box I was carrying and said, "Set
that on the table behind me."

After setting the box down where he wanted
it, I turned and noticed that he was playing computer solitaire.
"Is it not letting you win, sir?"

"An internet cable has been cut once again,"
he replied, turning the game off. "The continued vandalism has
begun to test my patience, Leo."

"Yes sir, I bet it has. Uh, not to change the
subject, but about those crates I dropped off . . ."

"Ah, yes. I have not seen any eyewitness
reports of your activities. Well done." His simple praise was
sincere, but I detected that weariness of spirit in his voice
again.

"Uh, yeah, thank you, sir. What I was
wondering, though . . . And I hope you don't mind me asking. Uh,
it's about a delivery receipt at the bottom of one of the crates.
That wasn't on the news; I got a message from your police
dispatcher about it today. I'm not sure what that was about. Was it
intentional?"

Viggo stared at me until I got uncomfortable,
which wasn't long. He eventually said, "Everything I do is
intentional, Leo. Mr. O'Shaughnessy retrieved a billing receipt
from the garbage bin behind a drinking establishment called the
Rattlesnake Saloon. It is owned and operated by the Outsider,
Lexian Grimm."

"Oh, right - I remember him from the
Gathering."

"Yes; he rarely attends those functions. I
warned Mr. Grimm about his dumping of victims into the sewer
system, if you recall. He did not heed my warning. On my order, Mr.
O'Shaughnessy placed the receipt in one of the crates to implicate
Mr. Grimm in the grisly discovery. Another minion collected the
human remains; I considered that chore beneath you."

"Well, I would've done it, sir, but I sure as
hell don't mind that you passed that one onto someone else."

"The other minion in question was better
suited for that task. I try to delegate duties according to skill
sets. For example, another task has presented itself - a task
well-suited for you." Viggo tapped on the computer monitor. "The
vandalism in the utility tunnels has become a nuisance. Find the
petty criminals and put an end to their irritating crimes. All
other chores will be suspended until this has been seen to, but do
not linger with this task to avoid them, Leo."

"No sir, of course not," I replied. "Does it
matter how I handle this?"

Viggo gave me another black-eyed stare. "I
would place that question in the category of lingering."

Grouchy message received. I left before it
got any worse.

PLAN

Later that night, I requested all the
underground vandalism reports from Viggo's Public Works minion.
Copies of them were emailed to me the next morning. One Irish
coffee later, I was ready for work.

First of all, I thought it was just internet
wires being fucked with. Cable, landline, and local power lines
were being cut as well. Where water and gas valves were available,
they were being shut off. Since there wasn't any obvious profit
from it, someone was being a real dick for no good reason.

There were more reports of vandalism than I
thought. Once I had the incidents listed by time, date and
location, a loose pattern was easy to see. Three different areas
kept being targeted, most likely because of easy access to them.
The dickhead (or heads - there might've been more than one) moved
in a loop between locations of A, B, and C. Location A was hit
every three or four days; so was B, but always one day after A.
Location C was every seven days. I guessed even dickheads needed an
occasional day off.

Judging from complaint calls, almost all of
the vandalism happened right around sunset or just before. The
Public Works guy had put in a requisition for motion sensors,
alarms and locks, but it hadn't been approved by his superiors as
of yet. Go figure.

Location A was the obvious choice. I knew the
area because a number of Viggo's chores (both above and below
ground) brought me there. It was the old stockyard district just
southwest of downtown; half of the buildings out there were empty.
The service tunnels in that area were large to accommodate all the
water and steam pipes for all the (former) businesses. Newer
companies took advantage of the roomy underground and placed
junction units for all of their phone lines and fiber optic
cables.

There were other sewer routes into that area,
but the easiest access point to get to those junctions was a large
grate in a delivery alley between rows of currently empty
buildings. I'd taken that route once; I'd take it again. One of the
parking lots that Viggo owned was only about half a mile away, so I
planned on leaving my truck there and walk. Location A was due to
be hit again the following evening, so I had time for a recon trip
to be sure of my plan.

With my 'ignore me' trick, there were lots of
spots down there to hang out and wait. All I had to do was find a
dark corner and hope the dickhead(s) came by the spot I picked.

Later that night, I was still thinking about
any variables to my plan when there was a knock at the front door.
The thunderdome was in a fairly desolate neighborhood to begin
with, and I'd never seen anyone (besides me) walking around at
night. Anyone who knew where I lived would've called first. Well,
except for Viggo, and he would've just stepped out from the dark
stairwell.

Gun in hand and with Thunder following me, I
peeked through the plate glass window. I blinked and looked again.
Clara Page stood there in the dark on the weedy sidewalk. Still in
her purple poncho and stocking cap, she gazed back at me with big,
innocent eyes. An awkward second later, she waved at me with one
hand and held up a half-full grocery bag with the other.

I opened the door and scanned left and right
before looking back down at her. "Uh, hi Clara," I began
hesitantly. "What're you doing here?"

"Someone said I should stop by and bring you
a present." She held the bag up to me. As I slowly took it from her
tiny hand, she looked down. "Oh, a kitty," she said. "Can I come in
and play with it?" I didn't have much of a choice; she brushed by
me and squatted down to pet Thunder.

She'd apparently gotten over her wariness of
me. Hey, great, but that didn't tell me why she showed up out of
the blue. I shut the door and asked, "Clara, did Viggo ask you to
come here?"

"No, not him . . ." she replied vaguely while
picking up my oversized cat. Okay, she wasn't going to mention
Vivian. With Thunder in her arms, I could barely see the top half
of her. "I went shopping," she said through the fur. "I ain't -
haven't - done that for a long time. I got all your favorites, I
think."

I stepped closer to the hallway light and
looked in the bag. Inside was a can of sweet corn, a bag of steak
fries, and a thick rib-eye. Yep, she somehow knew my favorites; it
was only a little spooky. "Uh, hey, thanks. I don't know what you
got me this food for, but it was very nice of you. I, uh, already
ate dinner tonight, so I'll cook this up tomorrow."

"Have it for supper, not lunch," Clara said,
while she walked past me with Thunder contently on her shoulder.
"Can me and the kitty go watch some TV? I promise to brush
him."

She was already heading to the stairs when I
answered, "Uh, sure. The big TV is up in the lounge."

"I know," she said airily.

Clara was a few steps up the stairs when I
added, "His name is Thunder."

"I know," she replied, still moving.

"Okay, uh, let me know if you need anything,"
I called up the stairs when she'd gone out of view. "I'll be down
here -"

"In your office - I know," she called back
from upstairs.

Okay, that was fucking weird. I couldn't get
my head around any part of that.

An hour or so later, I looked up from my
computer and saw Clara staring at me from the doorway. She was as
stealthy as Viggo. "Oh, hey, sorry - I didn't see you standing
there. Is everything okay?"

She nodded her head and said, "Uh huh. I'm
gonna go now. Thanks for letting me play with the kitty. He's nice.
Maybe I can come and play with him again sometime?"

"Sure, you're welcome here anytime."

Clara gazed at me for a second, and then
said, "Okay, thanks. Bye." She turned to leave, but looked back at
me with an odd expression on her cute little face. "You should
shave tomorrow, too."