Embracing the Shadows (3 page)

I looked in the envelope and found a note and
a flash drive. I plugged the drive in and clicked to access it. A
new screen popped up, asking for a decryption code to proceed. I
looked at the note; at the top of it was written a password:
catabolism, although it used alternative keys to be spelled as
'c@T@b0li$m'. I thought it was a pretty weird word to use - hell, I
wasn't even sure what it meant at the time - but it turned out to
be a clue of things to come.

The message on the hand-written note said:
The installed flash drive and code will access a private server.
Data for current duties will be found in the icon named 'Planner'.
Other icons have been placed for perusal, although everything found
within is considered highly confidential. You will also find that
some files and links are restricted until you earn a higher
security clearance. Once you have committed the password to memory,
destroy this note.

PS: We should talk sometime. -G-

Gwen, it had to be Gwen. I'd been avoiding
giving her a call, mostly because I was still conflicted about her
involvement in the dark world I'd been thrown into. Still, she was
a good friend, and I felt like a bit of a dick for ignoring
her.

Besides the 'Planner' icon in the classified
database, there were others called 'Forum', 'Games' and 'Maps'. In
the Planner folder was a calendar filled with various chores for
the next couple of weeks. The chores were shit like shopping for
simple hardware (mostly tools and wiring, small cuts of lumber,
glass jars and disturbing amounts of car battery acid). I also had
to remind certain people of their obligations, pick up ordered
supplies and deliver them to specific locations, secure underground
cables, and remove tunnel debris. I was disappointed that
'exploring brothels' wasn't mentioned anywhere.

Each of the chores had linked comments giving
details I had to be aware of. At the end of each comment was the
reminder to "practice being ignored at any opportunity - report any
success". Okay, will do. I was pleasantly surprised to see on the
calendar that once a week I was to train for both martial arts and
marksmanship. The comment under those was that I had to find
facilities beyond the suburbs. There was a college town about forty
five minutes away that most likely had both.

Under the only other tab in the folder was
another calendar, but it was for local events that hemos were
either hosting or involved with. The night before, for example,
there was an art gallery party. Yeah, sorry I missed it. Coming up
soon was a literary meeting; some event called an Open Gathering;
and in just a couple days was the rock concert that Shawn's band,
Glazefinger, was going to be part of.

The Forum link was a chat room for Deviants
only, and apparently worldwide. It had tabs for different
discussion topics, labeled as: Blood Politics, Rants, Open Season,
Arts and Crafts, and Want Ads. Damn, those guys stayed connected.
The only tabs I could access were the last two. Arts and Crafts had
photos of sculptures and enormous mushrooms, open invitations to
recitals, and art forgeries for sale. The Want Ads had everything
from requests for illegal goods (drugs, body parts, etc.) to minion
pets for sale.

I hoped the Games folder wasn't as bizarre.
In it was a listing of ideas for pranks - some of them dangerous
and violent - to be played on non-Deviant hemos. There was also
information about online games that some members of the
supernatural community liked to play on private servers; one for
hemos (marked as 'V', and inaccessible) and another for us minions
(M). That seemed kinda ridiculous. I mean, how much fun could World
of Warcraft be when you're a creature of fucking legend?

The last icon, Maps, was what I really needed
to familiarize myself with. There were tabs for dozens of American,
European and African cities, but I was only able to open the one
for Kansas City. The first of three layering, interactive maps was
street level; it highlighted sewer ports, Deviant-run buildings,
Civil Ground locations, and even some hemo domains.

The second map was of the sewer system known
to the city's Public Works and Water departments. There was a
shitload of lethal booby traps all over the map, although they were
only tripped when their sensors detected very low body
temperatures. A schedule was posted of sewer worker inspection
times and locations, plus any planned repairs or other projects.
That info gave me the opportunity to practice 'being ignored' on
city workers. It'd either work, or I'd run like hell - an adventure
one way or the other.

The last map was of a lower level of tunnels,
rooms, and cave pockets that no human knew about. The Deviant-made
level showed entry points from sewer lines, and from basements of
buildings and factories. It was all more extensive than I would've
guessed. For the sake of orientation, I moved around on the map
looking for familiar places and expanding my view from those. There
was a large index of symbols to familiarize myself with, and the
flag notes spanned pages. I had a lot of studying to do.

Hours later, when bleary light from a gray
dawn crept through the office window, I turned the computer off.
After putting the flash drive and Gwen's note in the vault, I sat
back and rubbed my eyes. I was glad that I had the next two days
off, or I'd have been dragging ass through my first chores. The
main reason I was still awake was because I was still trying to get
my head around how modern and organized the Deviant faction was. To
be fair, my only comparison was stupid vampire movies, but I don't
remember seeing a craigslist for grotesque blood-suckers in any of
'em.

MOTIVES

Twelve hours later I was at Gwen's place
where we had pizza and drinks and an earnest conversation. She
began her service to our "mutual patron" - as she put it - on the
day I applied at Silas Security. Gwen assured me that, despite
keeping a secret file on me, our friendship occurred naturally. I
was relieved to hear those words; she was relieved that she no
longer had to keep it from me.

Then Gwen told me something that ruined my
appetite. She'd heard from one of her police sources that one of my
neighbors - Miss Loretta, as it turned out - had filed a missing
person report on me. I hated that I was making that nice lady
worry; her heart didn't need any extra strain. When Gwen told
Cordell about it, he wanted to take time off work to look for me.
Guilt trumps pizza.

Gwen also knew more about most of the
Deviants I'd just met than I did. She first described Roach as a
gardener of sorts, and that his plants were in demand. My comment
that he served sewer lettuce with rat piss vinaigrette got me a
scowl that could make children cry. Roach grew cannabis, and had
quite a few well-hidden underground rooms full of weed crop. The
sodium bulbs should have been a clue, but I'm not in the pot scene.
Evidently, he was about the biggest dealer in town.

She also knew quite a bit about Barnabus, so
I sat back with another drink while I listened to the condensed
story of him. Mr. Merritt was a frontiersman in what is now West
Virginia sometime in the late 1600's, trading furs with one tribe
of Indians while at odds with another. She said that Barnabus
wouldn't tell her much after that, other than being attacked and
forcibly brought into the night in the summer of 1695. I figured
the omitted part was filled with pain and hard times.

It was fun knowing shit that Gwen didn't -
specifically Neva and Skin - and teasing her with the info. I
finally gave in and gave some details on the marble-skinned violin
player who still gave me the shivers from just thinking about her.
I talked about Skin a little, too, but not much. I wasn't sure
why.

When I asked what Gwen's orders were since I
was no longer the focus of her reports, she said that she was
supposed to pass along any gossip from her own contacts. The
shocking thing was that when she mentioned our "mutual patron"
again, she referred to him as Mr. Stone. Ho-lee shit. I knew
something else she didn't, and I knew better than to say a single
fucking word about it.

I crashed on Gwen's couch, had some waffles
with her in the morning, and then had to get moving. I had a busy
day ahead. Saturdays were the best days for martial art and
shooting practice out in the college town, so I had to go get those
set up. The concert was that night; Viggo's flag note for it in the
Planner told me to wait at my place for him so we could go
together. Not the date I expected, but I wasn't going to bitch
about it.

Viggo arrived soon after sunset. He met me in
the kitchen/break room, where I was refilling my flask. "Have you
spoken with Gwen?" he asked from the entryway.

"Yes sir," I answered with a nod. "She and I
straightened things out, and I didn't tell her anything she didn't
need to know." I pulled the concert tickets out of my wallet and
walked over to him. "Here you go, sir. Look, there's a little
seating chart printed on the back."

Viggo stared at the tickets in my hand. "I
haven't needed to use a ticket to gain entry into anyplace since
before the Chinese invented toilet paper. Both are equally useless
to me." Well, okay then.

We void-walked again, and came out into one
of the event center's dark, unused balcony suites behind the stage.
The lights were already dimmed, and the crowd of nearly six
thousand was noisy. I could already smell pot. The first band
wouldn't start for at least half an hour; Glazefinger came on after
them.

"You will need to stay near me and refrain
from speaking unless I deem it safe," Viggo said. "I will be using
a Gift that cloaks us both from sight."

"I understand, sir. Ragna did the same thing
for me once."

"Good. Now look to our left." I saw a few
more unused suites as they curved around to the side of the stage.
In one of them was two dark shapes looking out over the crowd. "The
taller of the two is a daemon named Enric Tomasino. He is a
respected Adept, and the Doyenne's enforcer of our laws. The
shorter one is a relatively young Adept named Moses Dupree, who
acts as a spotter and agent for Mr. Tomasino. In any venue where my
kind would gather, expect to find those two as well."

I followed Viggo over to the open door of
Tomasino's suite and quietly slipped in. He and Dupree were facing
away from us, both using binoculars to scan the crowd. Dupree was
dressed in jeans and t-shirt, while Tomasino wore a tailored suit.
An overcoat was draped over one of the chairs between him and us,
along with a scabbarded sword lying across two armrests. Yeah - an
actual sword. I bet Tomasino could've quoted all the Highlander
movies.

We stood there a while and listened to their
sporadic conversation. Dupree mentioned a couple names as he
spotted them. Tomasino said he spotted Riva, and said it with some
contempt; weird, considering they were both Adepts. The two briefly
discussed the growing number of missing hemos. They assumed Ragna
had the Outsider Katala, still had no leads on the young Sebastian
Horn, and then mentioned the Deviant named Harlan that I'd met
once. I knew Viggo had Katala and Horn, but didn't know anything
about the crazy bum who had the very human ability to piss on
cars.

Viggo and I moved on when the concert
started. We didn't have much of a chance to talk, so I split my
time watching the show and keeping an eye on people near us. I have
to admit, Glazefinger was pretty damn good. Shawn sounded even
better live than on the CD, and he brought a lot of energy to the
stage. During his solo, Viggo leaned close and said, "Very
talented, yes?" I nodded. "A pity it will be his last performance."
When he pulled away, I saw him looking at the stage with a grimace
of disdain.

I leaned up to Viggo's ear. "I don't
understand, sir. Did Shawn offend you or something?"

Viggo shook his head, waited until the solo
was over, and then told me, "Mr. Riordan will do something
backstage after their set is over, reacting to an inhaled
substance. The action will be foolish enough to lift the veil. That
is, unless I intercept him. And I will. I must."

He will do something, as in future-tense?
"Clara?" I simply asked. He nodded solemnly. Okay, Shawn was gonna
fuck up somehow. I was concerned for him; all things considered, he
was a fairly cool guy. "Does it have to, uh, go to that extreme,
sir? Couldn't you just lock him up for a while or something?"

There was no reply until the song ended.
"This is not Mr. Riordan's first offense," Viggo finally said, "and
I will not abide recklessness. Moreover, his usefulness as an
informant has dwindled to naught over the years. The fitting
penalty would be to deny him my blood." He paused and gently put a
hand on the back of my neck. "I've fed Shawn for over thirty
years," he continued. "I know him well. He would rather have me end
it all than to lose his Gifts and become an old man overnight."

I almost asked if Viggo could give Shawn to
another Deviant to be their minion, but I didn't want to push the
issue. My commander's mind was made up, so that was that. I hoped
Shawn took it like a man.

When Glazefinger finished playing, Viggo led
me to a dim hallway that led to the concourse where vendors,
bathrooms and exits were. He told me that he hoped I'd been
practicing the mindset of 'being ignored', because my first real
test had come. Until he returned, I was to stay in that area and
remain unnoticed by anyone. Nothing like a little pressure to get
me motivated.

Viggo showed back up twenty minutes later as
Mr. Stone, and apparently could only see the young couple making
out right next to me. I waved at him. It was the first time I ever
saw Viggo smile.

UNEXPECTED

My first official evening on the job as a
ShadoWorks employee was smelly, disgusting and disturbing. I had a
long list of sewer-related chores that had me trudging all over
midtown. Well, underneath it. The stench in those old brick tunnels
was going to soak into my pores, I just knew it. I had to wade
through a lot of human waste and, to give myself credit, only
gagged once or twice. The only thing I hadn't expected was the
occasional random noise echoing through those slimy tunnels. I knew
what went bump in the night, but that didn't mean it still wasn't
spooky as hell.