Embracing the Shadows (7 page)

"No need." Our waitress arrived; I sent her
off with two hasty orders of the cheesesteak special. "Alright, so
you saw what went down. At least the footage is in safe hands. It
is in safe hands, right?"

The offended glare I got as a reply told me I
might've just put Gwen's technological skills into question. That
suspicion was confirmed when she quietly sniped, "Go shit in your
hand."

"Okay, sorry. So if it's not that, then
what's got you so worked up?"

"The next day, yesterday, I was taking calls
on the Silas business line when someone rang and asked to hire you
as their personal EP. I said you were no longer with the company,
and they hung up. After that, it got weird."

"For you to call something weird, it has to
be way out there."

"I mean weird scary, dummy. When another call
came for you and got the same reply, they wanted to hire any other
EP you worked with on a regular basis. Right before lunch, a caller
knew Cordell and Diego by their names and wanted to hire them. I
think it's a good thing they're both contracted right now. Last but
not least, one more call came in mentioning your name; when the
creep couldn't get any info on you, he asked who I was! Me,
Leo!"

Shit, anyone I might've been close to had
become targets to use against me, just like Phillip. He just wasn't
a good enough friend to be effective. I was sure Viggo had a
shitload of resources and influence to cover my ass, but I doubted
he could match the combined clout of the Adept faction. I had no
way to protect Gwen, other than to get clearance to let her hide at
my place. If that wasn't allowed, though, I couldn't think of many
options. "Maybe you should take a vacation," I suggested.

"I can't right now - that's the icing on the
cow patty. Silas is going to be audited by the IRS next week, so
Crane wants me and Leona from payroll to be there at all times. If
one of the other factions is behind the audit, it means they'll
have access to details about every employee. I left messages for
Mr. Stone about it, but he hasn't responded."

I watched Gwen absently bent her metal butter
knife around two of her thick little fingers. I took that away,
too, and put it in my pocket. "Okay, I'll try to get hold of him,
too. We can just get our meals to go, and you can get back to work.
I doubt you're in the mood to eat right now anyway."

"No, not really." She rummaged in her big
purse for a second and then looked back up at me. "Wait; when you
texted me this morning, you mentioned cheap lunch and something
about a local report you saw. What report?"

I waved it off. "Don't worry about it right
now, it's no big deal. Hey, just to be safe, maybe you shouldn't
take your normal route when you head home later. Circle a block
once in a while, and keep an eye on your mirrors. Come to think of
it, you should probably find another place to stay tonight. If I
hear back from our patron before you do, I'll give you a yell."

I followed Gwen out of the lot and for about
a mile after, making sure she didn't have a tail. On my way to a
hardware store for the demanded lumber, I took my own advice and
turned a twenty minute drive into forty. I took the same
precautions on the way home, taking side streets and watching every
car behind me. Paranoia sucks.

WALDO

Knowing I had to drive later that evening, I
didn't hit the booze too hard. I received Viggo's text just before
the nightly news. I was only given an address, and to check with
the guy at the gate. Okay, there was a gate - not much of a clue. I
quickly googled the address; it was an inner-city cemetery. I
wondered if Viggo was trying to be spooky on purpose, or if it was
a prerequisite for anything Deviants did.

I got to the address a short time later,
noting the rough neighborhood I was in. Elmwood Cemetery was
surrounded by a big cement wall on every side, so I couldn't get a
look at the place before I pulled up to the tall iron gates. The
guy who opened them for me was scruffy, middle-aged, and didn't
have much of a personality. He handed me a hand-drawn map of the
cemetery that only showed the narrow lanes that ran through the
place. An X was drawn in one area, with the word 'Waldo' written
next to it.

The lane that the X sat on had a string of
mausoleums built into the low knolls on either side. I hopped out
of the van and was about to turn my flashlight on when I heard
Viggo's voice call to me. The Waldo family mausoleum was built with
a tiny low-walled patio out front, big enough for stone benches to
sit on either side of its iron-barred door. My commander sat there,
waiting for me.

"Good evening, sir," I said quietly; it
didn't seem right to make much noise in the solemn setting. "I have
the lumber you asked for. Do you mind if I ask a few questions
while I'm here?"

"We do need to talk, Leo, but deliver the
wood first." He leaned over and pulled the mausoleum door open,
revealing its pitch black interior. "There is an empty crypt shelf
on the right. Stack it there."

When I finished unloading the hardwood cuts
of 2x4, Viggo invited me to sit on the bench across from him. "Let
us first be rid of your curiosities, and then we can discuss
further duties."

"Yes sir, thank you. Uh, the first thing on
my mind was . . . what the hell did Le Meur do to me? I mean, I was
just fixing a pipe and talking to that derelict, Audra, and out of
nowhere I had some crazy urge that pulled me toward the
Doyenne."

"That pull you felt was the product of a
higher ability within the Gift of Enchantment. Remember how we once
spoke of a range of abilities as a Gift increases in power? What
she used on you is most often referred to as Magnetism.
Practitioners commonly employ it to wordlessly summon a minion or
known human to their side. The Doyenne must have taxed herself to
have so strongly drawn you to her."

I nodded at the explanation and then asked,
"Was that Audra chick involved? It seemed kinda weird to run into
her down in a steam pipe under a college."

"So far as I know, she had no participation
in the events of that evening other than to alert me of your
suspicious behavior. As to why Audra snuck into the administration
building, I can only assume that she was scouting student files."
Even in the dark, Viggo must've seen the confusion on my face.
"Many of us are very thorough and demanding when seeking a viable
choice for progeny," he explained. "Some look for a certain
attitude and skill set, while others seek candidates that are
talented or educated in specific fields. Either for herself or for
a client, I presume Audra was gathering information on potential
scions."

"Okay, I get it - gathering intel, that makes
sense." I took a deep breath before I asked my favor. "So, uh,
since Le Meur called the bluff of my death, everyone I care about
is in an even more dangerous position than before. I think Gwen
might be a target. Can she crash at my - uh, our - place for a
while?"

Viggo shook his head. "The looming danger
will end soon. Until matters are settled, it will be as when you
first came to your new abode. I have arranged for Miss Solomon to
take safe refuge elsewhere."

"Yes sir, I appreciate that."

"Let us proceed with your updated duties,
shall we? I planned for certain events to come at a much later
time, but the threat to your life has forced my hand. The Doyenne
is now aware of an unknown Eidolon in her city that watches over
you. Instead of claiming you once more to spite the Deviants, she
now most likely wants you dead. Lady Le Meur is no fool, however;
she is wary of incurring my wrath. Still, her pride cannot be
quantified."

Those vague words made me feel like shit.
"Sorry to have fucked things up for you, sir."

Viggo waved off the apology with a flick of
his hand. "Your safety is the only important thing; my oath demands
no less. You have a particular ancestor who was much more of a
burden, but we'll speak of him later." He reached into his coat
pockets, pulled out a couple items, and tossed one of them to me.
As I caught the bundle of wrapped cash, he said, "Buy a new outfit
tomorrow. If not formal attire, make it nearly so. You will be
presentable."

"Yes sir. Uh, presentable for what?"

He tossed me the other item, a key and remote
fob on a key ring. "You will have a new vehicle. The van was seen
by Adepts and Realm personnel. It also would not be the favored
mode of transportation for the guest you will be chauffeuring to
me."

"Yeah, I guess a van with a big dent in the
side is kind of easy to spot. Uh, where's the new ride?"

"It is behind the cemetery chapel you passed
on your way in. Leave the van next to it. Tomorrow night, just
before midnight, a jet will be landing at a small airfield - the
Truman Regional. It sits on the eastern outskirts of the city. You
will collect my guest, along with his assistants, and bring them
here to me."

"Back here? To this cemetery - to Waldo?" I
thought that was a strange order, although I shouldn't have. With
my commander, the unexpected had become the norm.

"Yes, here; pull right up in front. My guest
is very important, very powerful. You will be courteous and
respectful at all times."

"Of course, sir. Uh, can I know who your
guest is to address him properly?"

Viggo nodded and said, "His name is Aldo
Skala. You will call him sir or Mr. Skala if he allows it. I once
told you that one of my scions was the Doyen of Munich, Germany. It
is he, coming to visit his sire."

A few minutes later, I parked the van next to
my replacement car. It was a newer Audi sedan, gleaming silver in
the moonlight. Damn, it was sharp. I got in and began familiarizing
myself with all the bells and whistles. After a minute, I glanced
in the backseat, thinking that in about twenty four hours a Doyen -
not to mention Viggo's scion - would be sitting there. I doubted he
was going to call shotgun.

TASKS

Despite protests from her boss (knowing
Crane, it was more like whining), Gwen left work early the next day
to go clothes shopping with me. Her choice sure as hell had nothing
to do with putting her fashion sense to work because, honestly, she
didn't have any. I think it was more that she felt secure with me.
It wasn't just that Gwen thought she'd be safer in my company than
at a building full of EPs - that would've been one hell of a
compliment, and something she would never admit. The main thing was
that we were both tangled in the web of the hemo world; it gave our
good friendship an even stronger bond.

While we browsed slacks in an outlet store,
Gwen told me about the 'residence' she was allowed to use. It was
Shawn Riordan's old place, a small abandoned fire station. It was
refurbished, and the brass pole was left in. I thought it sounded
cool. She wasn't as excited, and asked if I wanted any of the
musical instruments, equipment, or any of his other shit that was
sitting around. One Glazefinger t-shirt was enough for me.

I brought up Stanley Everett's death while
Gwen picked out hideous shirt and tie combinations. She wasn't
aware that the warehouse he and his wife were found in belonged to
Declan McKenna. She did, however, know some other stuff about the
case. Everett's son, a lawyer in Denver and sole beneficiary of
their wills, came back to town after he lost communication with his
parents. He met with detectives before they were found, and then
once more afterwards to be ruled off the suspect list. Since then,
no one has seen or heard from him.

On a whim, I asked Gwen to do some discreet
digging on Trade Solutions Import/Export. When she turned to type
the business name into her phone as a reminder, I quickly put her
clothing selections back. I sure as hell wasn't a fashion guru, but
a peach shirt with a purple paisley tie might've gotten me killed
in the wrong company. I chose an outfit that was nicer than my old
suits, all in grays and black. Gwen frowned at the selection; screw
it - I liked boring.

The lone ground controller at the Truman
airfield accepted a bribe; I parked the Audi next to the end of
their single landing strip and waited. The private jet landed on
time and taxied to within one hundred feet of me. I expected the
Doyen of Munich to exit the jet wearing something nicer than the
Muddy Waters t-shirt, cargo pants and combat boots he had on. It
was his two large assistants who wore suits.

When Mr. Skala got close enough, I could see
the details of his appearance. He was about my size, built solid,
and had an air of authority. Dark blond hair hung in a loose style
over his black eyes - completely black, like Viggo's. It looked as
if a layer of rough-textured beige plaster had been spread over his
skin, and little chunks of it had chipped off. Bizarre and inhuman,
just like his sire.

Mr. Skala stopped less than ten feet away and
silently studied me for a moment. As his huge minions stopped
behind him with their hands full of luggage, he stepped closer.
Taking in my features and facial scars, he asked in a thick German
accent, "You are Mr. Beck, the current holder of my sire's oath,
yes?" The question came with a hint of irritation in his gruff
voice.

Great, Viggo's scion didn't like me already.
I would have liked the chance to at least earn his contempt first.
"Yes sir," I answered without emotion. "Allow me to get the door
for you." I didn't wait for his nod.

Once the luggage was stuffed into the trunk
and the minions stuffed themselves into the car, we began the forty
minute drive back to Elmwood cemetery. The three of them had a few
short conversations in German, so I had no clue what they were
saying. I took a couple glances at the guy sitting next to me in
the front passenger seat; he looked like over three hundred pounds
of nothing but muscle and ugly. I couldn't help but wonder if he
would've turned out that way normally, or if drinking a lot of
Deviant blood gave his genetics a nudge.