Foreboding Skies (The Skybreaker Saga Book 1) (5 page)

Thankfully ole Hemy was there to stop the Fed from doing anything stupid, well stupider than getting in the face of a supernatural creature. Maybe it was the status, or the nice suits, or that anyone who sets foot in D.C. automatically losses a significant portion of their IQ. Whatever it was, the Feds were idiots. They worked for the most powerful human government in the world, and they thought that actually mattered to the Community. It didn’t of course. The various factions of the Community were deeply embedded in every major government. A lot of said governments only existed because someone up the food chain gave their consent. And really, what good is the massive U.S. military apparatus against a population that was inseparably intertwined with human society and had unfathomable powers at its disposal?

“Detective Jones, a word please?” Hemy looked a little weary and I didn't blame him, I wouldn’t want to piss me off either. Jones glanced at him, saw his concern, and finally backed down. She almost managed pleasant when she said, “Excuse us for one moment Mr. Smith, and please stay here.” She said it all with the tone of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question. The way she said my name made it clear she knew it was a fake, which it wasn’t, at least not officially. All my paperwork was completely legit. On some level I felt bad for the humans assigned to figure us out. They were tasked with solving a puzzle while blindfolded, wearing oven its, on a crashing plane.

Still, if Uncle Sam was going to spy on me then the least I could was return the favor. Channeling my resident ratel spirit I multi-plied my hearing several times over. “Why would you try to antagonize him like that? Did you read my report on him?” Hemingway asked with a hard edge in his voice, he didn’t like the women’s style.

“I did” came the tight reply. Poor Hemingway seemed taken completely off guard by her blatant hostility.

“You say that he is responsible for dozens of violent incidents with a staggering body count. But you go on to say that he is not dangerous and is no threat to the public, if your reports are to be believed.” The way she said it made it sound like the validity of Hemy’s reports were very much in question. “How can you reconcile that with the dozens of bodies tied to him? Even if he is only responsible for a fraction of them he is still a killer. It doesn’t matter if he has a heart of gold and only goes after criminals!” She was just shy of shouting outright and both of them peaked my way to see if I heard. I was playing on my phone. An excellent device for modern urban camouflage the smart phone, anyone on one is assumed to be in their own little world.

“I know that, but the only people who have turned up dead in relation to him have been murderers, rapist, and drug-dealers.” Hemy said in his exceedingly deep and methodical voice. “And as for tonight, I don’t think he did it.” He raised a hand to silence her forthcoming objections, “I know he is capable of killing, but what happened tonight was far more brutal and flashy than anything else I suspect him of doing. And need I remind you that our best description from eyewitnesses is, and I quote, “A Caucasian or Asian man, possibly a woman, who was between five six and six five!”

I had to stop myself from laughing at the –staggeringly vague description. I still wonder why law enforcement bothered with eye witness reports. People suck at remembering an event accurately under normal circumstances, toss in several stress inducing variables and accurate recollection plummets to complete shit. Science proved how flawed human recall was time and time again, and yet it was still in use.

My unique nature as a Shaman lent additional protection against human scrutiny. I am not entirely of the corporal world and consequently it is natural to overlook and or forget about me completely. The more power I used the more I faded Even other supernatural beings fell victim to it if they were not looking specifically looking for me. Which is why I was doubly impressed with Hemingway. He actually seemed capable of remembering me in the long term.

“I know eyewitness reports are sketchy at best, but every one of the incidents you listed in your report have similar characteristics. This most recent incident has all of the characteristics you identified in your reports. A real sick shit goes down, civilians rescued, everyone saw who did it, but no one can accurately describe the bastard.” The vulgarity of the Fed lady’s language was surprising. She struck me as the type who never swore because it was bad. “He is the guy, I know it, you know it, that smug bastard knows it too. You may think you understand him, that he wouldn’t hurt innocent people, but he’s a monster, they all are. And he doesn’t get to decide who is innocent or guilty and exact punishment.”

Actually I did, it was part of my job, and as far as deciding who was naughty and nice, well I was a spectacular judge of character. Special Agent or Agent or whatever Jones was not. Her judgment had already been compromised by anger and fear. I assumed she lost someone important to something or other. She would want to throw me under as many busses as she could find and screw due process.

Luckily for me, Hemingway believed in due process for everyone, even for non-humans. That and I knew people who knew people who ran the world. I doubted Jones would get approval for anything. That still left an irrational women who hated me, thought I was a killing machine, and probably thought that I received no protection under the constitution. Hell, most Americans didn’t have protection under the constitution if the government really wanted to take them down.

“Officers, I don’t mean to interrupt but will you be needing anything else from me. I had a long day at work and I am wiped out.” I really was, but that didn’t mean I got to stop. They both walked back to where I was standing and created an awkward three-way silence.

Jones looked like she wanted to pick every bone in the human body with me, but Hemingway spoke first, “That will be all Mr. Smith, just don’t leave town for the next couple of days. We may have more questions for you.” Of that there was no doubt. The leaving part would be more difficult, as soon as I put this situation to rest it was time to go. Detroit was getting too hot for my liking.

I bid the officers farewell and watched them drive off before trudging up the steps to my door. My landlady would have plenty of words about the police, if she could remember me long enough to deliver them. Ms. Franklin was a horrible old bat that neither heaven nor hell wanted, leaving her here to torment us all.

My one bedroom efficiency apartment was decorated in the Spartan tradition. Not out of the belief that sparse décor boosted efficiency but out of sheer passivity. I owned a bed, a dresser, a chair, a desk with a decent pc, and a clock adorning the wall. In the kitchen area there was a modest table with three chairs squished against the refrigerator. My only frivolity was a poster of Marlon Brando from the Godfather with the most legendary quote in bold letters across the bottom “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.” That quote represented the philosophy that the Community lived by.

Before I did anything else I needed to call some people. I assumed all of my official lines of communication were compromised. I could imagine the terrible things Jones had recommended be done to me. Such situations are why I always kept a few encrypted burner phones on hand. I like my privacy, and if the government is going to break the law to violate it then I will break the law to protect it. They were pricey, but it was the principle of the matter. That and I was doing lots of other illegal shit and didn’t want to get anymore heat on me. But it was mostly about principles.

First to call my boss and explain my repurposing of his warehouse. Second find someone who could work Downs over while I investigated other leads. I would also have to do something about the Fed situation. Hemingway I didn’t mind dealing with, but Jones was going to need a lesson in proper etiquette from someone higher up on the food chain. And I still needed to ensure the barrier between this world and the spirit world was solid. I grabbed one of my burners and dialed my boss’s private number. Hopefully he would be in a good mood. It took two calls before someone finally picked up. “Home of Jeff Masters. May I ask who is calling?” One of Jeff’s many partners, and I don’t mean business partners, elves were the original swingers. My small clock on the wall declared the time to be five minutes past nine. I was probably interrupting an orgy.

“It’s John, John Smith, I need to speak with Jeff immediately. It’s about hiring some new personnel for the warehouse.” I really hoped the orgy would have Alewyn in a good mood. I heard the woman, Katie?, hum to herself as she thought about my request.

“I don’t think we’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. I really like your designs, you should… swing by more often.” We had been introduced, more than once, but Katie was human, and a bit of an airhead, and liable to forget me in a matter of hours or days. It was like that Adam Sandler movie when he had to woo a girl anew every day. Before I could say anything else I heard a musical voice inquiring something then Alewyn was on the line.

“I assume the calamity currently engulfing the city is your fault right?” Ouch. Right off the bat and I was in trouble. “You know darling, perhaps it’s time you settled down permanently. I am certain I could find a position to suit you.” Or perhaps not, playful innuendo was a good sign. Not that he wouldn’t bed me if he could, elves admire beauty in all forms and thought rigid sexuality was an idiotic human invention.

“I was dealing with pre-tear conditions and things went to shit fast.” The mention of a possible tear made him suck his breath sharply. No one liked hearing about a gaping hole that would allow true nightmares to enter our world. The possibility of tears was why Shamans were afforded extra privileges and could call on any faction for aid, at least in theory. Even the nastier members of the Community typically abided by this. They were also scared shitless by what might pop out of a tear.

“You really know how to kill the mood sweetheart. You are not as precious as your name leads one to believe.” Why did people keep talking about what my name was supposed to mean? My name was just a random assortment of sounds that someone had slapped on me at birth. “How serious is it? Did you make the necessary repairs?”

“It wasn’t serious enough to warrant immediate repairs, but I will go back to touch up the seams once the heat dies down, no sense in taking chances. That isn’t the issue though.” I gave him the highlights of my fun filled day.

“Hmmmm, seems like both of us got fucked a lot today. A werewolf, troll, and an ogre, oh my. I will check with the local pack to see if they know of any outside wolves, as far as the Fae go… I don’t think I will be able to get anything on that. I’m not exactly popular back home you know.” Elves were distant cousins of the Fae and there was always a bit of a rivalry between the ‘true Fae’ and the elves, which had forsaken their magical chops in favor of living in the human realm. Aside from that even other elves didn’t like my eccentric friend. “If it wasn’t that serious I wonder what you were doing there. A bit of vigilante justice to pass the time?”

“Not at all. As you know we Shamans do not take act in such an unrefined manner, and don’t derail the conversation.”
              “Fine. Those talisman sound like a witch’s work.” He said the last with a tone of distaste. No one liked dealing with the Wiccans, but they could be useful. The problem was they could be useful to anyone who paid them enough. That was why all of the remaining Wiccans were watched carefully. I say remaining because about one thousand years ago there was a notable crisis. It involved the Wiccans, a horrifying entity called the Onyx King, the near end of the world, and then the near extermination of all Wiccans. If you try to end the world people tend to react harshly and the Wiccans were now like post world war two Germany. They may have been defeated but they were still watched carefully and any move that could be interpreted as even remotely hostile would be met with overwhelming force.  

“Alright, call up some of your Wiccans and tell them there is work to be done.” There was a twelve member coven in Detroit. Twelve was as large as covens were allowed to be. I kept my contact with them to the bare minimum since my arrival in the city. I didn’t even know any of their names. Nor did I really care to get to know them.

“I will be more diplomatic than that, no need to be rude. They will contact you tomorrow. As for the unexpected guest, well, if you can’t work something out with the dwarf then I can reach out to some old friends. I will have Gregory secure the warehouse.” Gregory Herald was Alewyn’s top security guy, an ex-special forces badass who was well appraised of the supernatural world. He would make sure my new friend would be well taken care of.

“Thanks for the assist. How much will all of this run me?” I do not do favors and I do not allow them to be done for me, cash only was my motto. Cash was simple and quantifiable.

The oversexed elf sighed, “You know there is no reason for me to charge you right? I would be willing to do this for free. Money doesn’t have to rule your life you know.”

“Sure, I’ll adopt that attitude once I get a tribal tattoo, take up unicycle riding, and then move to Portland where all the other hipsters pretend to make a difference or whatever it is you hippies do.”

“Hipsters and hippies are two different things you know.”

“Close enough.”

“Fine, the whole bundle will cost about three hundred thousand. That includes guest accommodations and relaxation specialists.  Can’t you make up with the Dwarf? He could do all of this much cheaper and faster, well faster anyway.”

“Money is not an issue for me, though I suppose time is. Still I can’t do business with someone who insists on trading favors. It is simply unreasonable, people developed complex systems of currency for a reason. Now if you will excuse me I’m afraid my next call will be much more unpleasant.”

“I should think so, with the level of noise you created tonight not even your Shaman get out of jail free card will help. It is a good thing you are gorgeous because you are a walking disaster.” With that he hung up.  He was never much for goodbyes Especially when there was an orgy to attend to. I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the next call.

“Tomorrow, my office, eight o’clock.” The line went dead. That wasn’t a good sign. He only spoke in short bullets when he was pissed. Maybe he would calm down by tomorrow. All I could do was spend the next several hours mentally preparing myself for eight am tomorrow.

I fired up my desktop and sent out a few innocuous looking emails to the less than reputable associates I kept ties with over the years. Hopefully someone would be available in the next few days to provide more information. On this kind of short notice I doubted I could anyone with my own connections, Alewyn would have to come through for me. I sat down at my desk packed a nice full bowl of weed and power up my PC.

Time to dig in to a big steaming pile of mystery. A crazy drug lord gets supernatural enforcers, powerful talisman of unknown purpose, and enough magic to level a building to cover up a room that held a dozen or so people. Jones  said it looked like the bodies had been mauled… they may have been a stash of food for the supernatural guards. Werewolves didn’t normally eat people, though it wasn’t unheard of, but ogres and trolls did whenever they got the chance. My initial thoughts were geared toward some sort of experimentation going on, but food was a simpler, albeit just as terrifying answer. The talisman would have to wait until tomorrow when the Wiccans looked over it, and the other questions would likely require input from Downs. I went on a few websites I knew to be reputable. You can actually find a lot of accurate information on the internet about the supernatural community, only with the Community’s blessing of course. You needed to know where to look for the valuable knowledge amongst the mountains of superfluous crap.

I spent most of the time reviewing the various abilities of magic users that could have blown the house up. My first guess was a mage. With only a fragment of the house the mage could have been on the other side of the planet when they threw the spell, at least in theory. The triggerman was likely within a one or two mile radius of the house. There was a Conclave base in the state but we had never been on great terms. I didn’t even know the location of the base. As a rule the Magi were envious of the influence Shamans wielded despite our small numbers and took strides to alienate us.

The Conclave was the largest and most powerful Magi organization, and was technically made up of several smaller groups that banned together for mutual protection. With tens of thousands of members all over the world they too wielded great influence. Seeing as how they were heavily invested in the current world order it seems unlikely that anyone from that group was involved officially.  A rogue mage was much more likely but I couldn’t rule out official involvement.

The Wiccans were unlikely culprits. They were under constant scrutiny and sticking a toe out of line would bring disastrous consequences. Still, I couldn’t completely rule them out. The Wiccans would contact me tomorrow to set up a meeting. I could ask politely then. If it was them they would likely try to kill me and I would have my bad guys. If not, I could get answers about the talismans and wards. It was a win-win scenario.

The Fae were an unlikely option, though not as unlikely the Wiccans. Fae magic worked differently and always smelled of one of the four basic alchemic elements. The spell used to level the house was raw magic power, a sledgehammer. I think any Fae strong enough to blow the house up would have chosen a classier and quieter way to handle it. Again, I could not completely rule them out either, two Fae were at the scene. It wasn't uncommon for Fae to hire themselves out as mercenaries, or they could have been sent by one of the many monarchs that rule over the Fae. Alewyn wouldn’t be any help as he was something of a pariah. I would have to strike out on my own. Dealing with the Fae was always like walking through a minefield drunk and blindfolded. Just one wrong step and you would be a bloody mess. Never ask for or take favors or say thank you. Once they get their hooks in you they never let go.

That pretty much covered the three biggest magic using factions. My money was on a mage being responsible. Having to speak with the Wiccans, Magi, Werewolves, and the Fae about an incident I suspected they were involved with was not a fun time by any measure. Oh, and the Vampires. I could not forget about them even if I wanted to.  

With my proverbial dance card solidly booked I sat on my bed and took the classic meditation pose. I didn’t need to sleep. I needed to rekindle my essence. Essence is what a Shaman uses to channel their bonded spirits and to control other spirits. It was my own excess life energy. If I used too much of my excess essence I risked burning up my human soul. That was full immersion, all spirit and no soul. You completely lost your humanity and went fully into the Expanse. And the odds of coming back from that were about the same of being mauled by a bear and a shark while winning the lottery, and throw in getting struck by lightning for good measure.

As I methodically switched off most of my conscious mind I couldn’t help but cringe at what was to come. I didn’t have nightmares as I didn’t technically sleep. I meditated. And when I did vivid and horrifying visions kept me company.