Embracing the Shadows (8 page)

Viggo was waiting for us in front of the
Waldo mausoleum. He and Aldo warmly gripped each other's shoulders,
both saying their hellos in German. I watched the two
luggage-toting minions step into the small mausoleum, followed by
their master. Either there was an underground passage connected to
it, or the damn thing was like a clown car. Viggo told me to check
my Planner and then sent me home. Not to sound like a whiny bitch
about it, I felt a little excluded.

SUSPECT

I woke up to Thunder licking my eyelid. My
alarm clock showed that it wasn't even five in the morning yet.
Less than three hours of sleep made me a grumpy prick. I was about
to tell the cat to fuck off and then bury my head in a pillow when
I noticed my phone vibrating with a new text. Grunting, I clumsily
grabbed it off the bedside table and held it close to my blurry
eyes. Two texts and two missed phone calls, all from Gwen in the
last twenty minutes. I was suddenly awake, wondering if she was in
trouble.

Fumbling with the buttons, I opened the first
text. 'TURN ON CHANNEL 9 NOW! JUMPING JESUS, WHAT HAPPENED?!' I had
no idea what Gwen was freaking out about. I rolled out of bed,
shuffled to the lounge and fell back into a chair with the remote
in my hand. Since I was up - sort of - I decided to find out what
she wanted me to see before I called her back and chewed her ass
for waking me long before the sun was up. I did enough of that for
years in the military.

The channel 9 morning news was showing the
weather. Great, more rain on the way. I switched over to channel 5;
they had just started into their lead story at the top of the hour.
It was an update on the case involving the murders of Stanley and
Mary Everett.

"Upon reviewing footage from a security
camera inside the warehouse where the couple was found," the
reporter said, "police are looking for a suspect that an inside
source says is strongly tied to the case." A photo appeared on the
screen next to the reporter. Stunned is a good word to describe my
reaction.

It was me.

The picture came from my military I.D. badge.
I included the shot with the few dossiers I'd handed out. Off the
top of my head, the only people I could think of that had a copy of
it were Viggo, Ragna, Silas Security, and Le Meur's business minion
Dominique Rondeau. Goddammit.

"Former Marine sergeant Leopold D. Beck is
wanted for questioning in the May 2nd homicides of the Everett's.
Beck, a highly-trained veteran of numerous military operations in
Afghanistan, should be considered armed and extremely dangerous.
Call the tips hotline if you have any knowledge of his whereabouts.
There is a reward for any information leading to an arrest."

What the living fuck? I had no clue how I was
being fingered for Stanley's murder, but man, I was being set up
good. Because of this, everyone I knew probably thought I was at
least somehow involved in it. First, all my friends thought I was
dead or a wandering drunk or abducted by aliens or whatever, then
they heard I was alive and a suspect in a murder case. Fucking
wonderful. And the cherry on top was that everyone now knew my real
first name.

Just like all the other times I had been
screwed with in the last handful of months, some damn hemo was
behind it. Whether it was Le Meur or McKenna or one of the other
supernatural assholes that I left a poor impression with, they had
ruined my life.

I didn't bother listening to Gwen's messages.
I called her back on my way down to the kitchen to make a drink.
Yeah, it was only five in the morning, but so the hell what? I
deserved a stiff belt. She answered her phone with, "What does the
D stand for?"

I could always count on Gwen to say the
unexpected. "What? I thought you were gonna start with telling me
how completely screwed I am, or asking if I was really
involved."

She made her annoyed sigh dramatically
audible. "You being screwed is a given, and I find it offensive
that you would wonder if I even entertained the thought of you
having anything to do with it, Leo. You're being framed, pure and
simple. The questions are: who, why, and how?"

Ah, Jack and Coke, the mellow-maker. I
slammed down my first drink before I replied, "The 'who' is any
hemo who didn't find me to be an absolute delight, which is most of
'em. The 'why' could be anything from me being a pain in one of
their asses, to nothing more than one of 'em thought it'd be funny.
Don't expect me to know what they think or anything about the
fucked up games they play. As for how I'm getting pinned for this,
that's a damn good question. I need to see that tape, Gwen."

"Don't expect me to be able to get my cute
little hands on it. That footage is a hot commodity right now. No
one I know could get near it, and wouldn't take the chance of
making a copy if they could. Sorry, Leo, you're going to have to
see what our patron can do. Until then, what are your options?"

"Shit, I don't have any options, Gwen. I'm in
a safe place. I can't go out for anything, not anymore - my face is
all over the news. The only thing I can do is wait until tonight
and talk to the boss."

"I'm sorry, Leo, I really am. You know I'd
help if I could. Don't go getting any wild ideas about how to fix
this and get yourself in trouble. Well, more trouble."

"No way. I'm staying put."

"I expect the police will call or come by the
office today, digging up what they can about you."

"Do not defend me with them, Gwen. Don't
incriminate yourself, stay neutral."

"I'm a professional, dummy. They won't get a
twitch out of me."

I spent the rest of the day trying to keep
myself busy. I cooked Phillip a quick breakfast, and made a few
half-assed attempts to get into a staring contest with Thunder. I'd
read that cats view that as a challenge or a threat, but he didn't
seem to mind. I also left a message for Viggo when he woke,
explaining the fun new turn of events. A good hour was spent with
the punching bag, which I beat the shit out of. The rest of my time
was spent trying not to get hammered, and failing miserably.

VIDEO

A wet sensation on my nostrils woke me later
that evening; I'd passed out in a recliner around dinner time. My
eyes opened and saw Thunder sitting on my chest, and Viggo standing
in front of me. My whole body jerked in surprise. Thunder didn't
budge. Sobering up quick, I set the cat aside and stood. Okay, make
that only fairly quick on the sobering - the room wobbled when I
hopped out of the chair.

"I recant an earlier statement," Viggo
grumbled. "You are the most troublesome of your entire
lineage."

"Sorry, sir. I don't mean to be." I swallowed
down a hint of bile and steadied my feet.

Viggo's posture slightly relaxed. "Intent was
never your undoing, Leo. You simply continue to be placed in
precarious situations, and by the local members of my race. Perhaps
now your level of distaste for many of them rivals my own . . . But
that is a discussion for another time."

"Yes sir, I look forward to it." I was
relieved that my commander felt the contempt for hemos that I'd
learned to feel. Hell, that opinion was inevitable with all the
shit they'd given me. I would have never wanted Viggo to know how I
felt if his opinion opposed mine. But with his words, I no longer
had to worry about being diplomatic when the topic came up.

"Because of the message you left," Viggo
continued, "I began my own investigation of sorts. I may not be
able to thwart the mortal authorities by clandestine means, but I
am quite able to determine some of the true facts of the case."

"Sire," a gruff, accented voice said from the
doorway of the lounge, "I am capable of completing the task on my
own." Aldo Skala leaned against the doorframe. His jeans, blue
turtleneck and wavy blonde hair reminded me of a smug catalogue
model, but his crumbling-plaster face ruined the effect.

I hadn't even noticed Skala was there; I was
focused on Viggo and trying to stop my vision from swimming. I
couldn't get my booze-soaked brain to figure out why Viggo's moody
European scion was there, or what he was talking about.

"If you knew exactly where to go," Viggo said
to him, "then I would agree with you, Aldo. As I told you earlier,
you have a greater grasp of modern technology, while only I know
the precise location. We go together." He turned back to me. "Leo,
Mr. Skala and I must go, but we will return for you very shortly.
At that time, you will come with us. You have ten minutes to
prepare. As a cautionary note, I do not believe that void-walking
and inebriation is a wise combination."

Viggo and Skala stepped out of the room into
the dark staircase and then disappeared. As soon as they were gone,
I went down to the kitchen and dunked my head in the sink that I
filled with cold water and ice. My commander and his scion returned
sooner than I would've liked, but by then my senses were clearer
and I was wide awake.

Huddled together, we all void-walked into a
dark corner of the first Deviant den that Viggo brought me to. It
was the one that was a mix of cavern and studio apartment. It was
as I remembered it; wires clamped all over the walls, the bed
sitting back in a natural recess of stone, an array of electronic
equipment, and the iron submarine-style doors on either end. The
only new addition was the Deviant called Skin setting up a
camcorder on a tripod.

"Hey, kid," he said with an easy smile.
"Stepped in some more shit, did ya now?"

I wasn't sure how to reply to that, so I
didn't. Skala handed Skin a clear CD case. Viggo explained to me
that Mr. O'Shaughnessy had been asked to help because of his audio
and video expertise. Footage of 'my' crime had just been borrowed
from an evidence room, copied and returned. Besides studying that
new copy, Skin was going to access Gwen's security camera files and
cross-reference for any possible matches of everyone in the
database.

But first, a video was going to be made of me
moving around for the purpose of contrasting my shape and gait
patterns with whoever the real killer was. The concept felt vaguely
gay.

"Couldn't you and Mr. Skala just have kept
the original, sir?" I asked while Skin filmed me walking and
carrying a heavy area rug on my shoulder. "With no evidence,
there's no case."

Viggo shook his head. "Copies have
undoubtedly already been made. I do not know how many or where they
might be, so retrieval is impossible."

I set the rug down with a sigh. "I'll never
have anything like a normal life again, will I, sir?"

"For what purpose, Mr. Beck?" Skala asked
from a nearby reading table he was sitting at. "Do you truly wish
to resume your place among the ignorant cattle? Consider where you
are, what you've seen, and your newfound abilities. All because you
have been shown the true, dark reality. How many others of the vast
herd of shuffling bovines are as fortunate as you? It should be
your privilege to knowingly be in the presence of immortal beings."
He frowned at me. "Normal life? What an insulting regression."

Viggo scowled at his progeny. Skin kept his
head down and busied himself with the video equipment. I kept my
lips tight, fighting the urge to point out that billions of human
'cattle' unknowingly kept Skala and all his kind in check. Even
though humans didn't know they held that power, the hemos did. The
only reasons I didn't point that out were because Viggo wouldn't
take kindly to my lip, and that I didn't have those billions of
people right there to back me up.

ANSWERS

Twenty minutes later, I sat on the edge of
the bed feeling like a liability. Viggo and Skin were busy studying
computer screens and talking among themselves, leaving no room for
a third set of eyes. Skala remained at the reading table, flipping
through the pages of a thick book. Rather than sitting there like a
useless piece of shit and feeling sorry for myself, I decided to
get some answers of my own.

I sat across from Skala, rested my elbows on
the table, and waited until he looked up from his book. "Not to be
a bother, sir," I said, "but I was wondering what I did to piss you
off."

He raised a cracked eyebrow in mild surprise.
"I would rather call it continuous resentment. If I were angry with
you, Mr. Beck, you certainly would not be allowed to converse with
me."

"Okay, fine, you feel continuous resentment
toward me, whatever that means. I'd like to know how I earned it.
I've got enough enemies as it is, Mr. Skala - I don't want my
commander's scion as another."

Skala pushed his book aside, leaned forward
on the table and said, "Your master brought me into the night
nearly twelve hundred years ago. I will spare you any descriptions
of the cruelties of life in the middle ages. My sire told me of his
oath, and showed me the current recipient of it. That man was a pig
in all ways but shape. His eldest bastard boy wasn't much better; a
thief with hardly a hint of honor. After him was a callous warrior
with no empathy. The lineage of that sordid sort continued.

"For over ninety years did I stay near Viggo
and assist him. When I decided to make my own way, I still returned
to visit my sire throughout the decades and centuries. All the
while, he remained true to his oath, watching over human
descendants that were not his own. In all of that time and having
met so many of your forefathers, only two did I think merited
Viggo's guardianship. Two, out of dozens. My sire has spent his
existence watching over people who did not deserve his sacrifice.
That should explain what I meant by continuous resentment, Mr.
Beck. History has tainted my expectations of your line."

Well, shit, how was I supposed to argue
against that? Skala might've been harsh in his judgments and tended
to stereotype me because of a few assholes in my family tree, but
he was thinking of Viggo and wanted what was best for him. I
would've done the same. "I'm sorry most of my ancestors didn't
quite measure up, sir. I could say I'll try to change your opinion,
but it's not your approval that I want."