Foreboding Skies (The Skybreaker Saga Book 1) (7 page)

“As usual it is chaos. Everything is going to hell and I can’t do a damn thing to stop it. I feel rage and sorrow. I don’t know. It’s bleak, it is always bleak. Like there is no life or light left in the world. Utterly hopeless.” I hated revealing my feelings or genuine thoughts to anyone. It was one of the reasons I made a good Shaman in the first place. I kept my emotions in a dank filing cabinet inside of me where they couldn’t trip me up.              

“Well I certainly appreciate the help. Have you got any advice on my current situation?” Vlad was a veteran of absurd intrigue the likes of which appeared to be developing. I shouldn’t have bothered asking. He wasn’t shy about telling me exactly what I needed to do in any given situation. That reminded me that there was something I knew needed to be done without being told. I pushed ahead before he could start his lecture. 

“I need you to pay Jeff Masters three hundred thousand from my accounts and take out whatever you feel is necessary to deal with the current situation. And in the shithole where the action went down there is an older black gentleman taking care of several children, his house was severally damaged during the fighting. I would greatly appreciate it if you could ensure he is well funded and that the authorities stay away.” The kids would be better off outside of a foster home. “Down’s now demolished hideout. I want to rebuild it as a community center. A place for the kids to play, maybe adult education classes and addiction counseling as well. I don’t care how much it costs, just pour money into it.”  He nodded and started to move my money around without a lecture on friendship. He went on without any sort of lecture in fact. A rare occurrence.

“Try very, very hard not to be yourself. Apparently Agent Jones has called for some backup and the resources to keep you under constant surveillance. I suppose you made your usual impression on her.” Normally I would make a snide remark, but I think that is what he was getting at. I sincerely enjoyed frustrating authority figures regardless of the situation. Maybe, just maybe mind you, I could try not being a smart ass at every available opportunity. It was a bold strategy.

              “Alright I get it.” A raised eyebrow was his response. “I’m serious. I can be polite and cooperative. I may have started off on the wrong foot yesterday, but I will do my best.” Vladimir was too polite to laugh in my face, but I knew he wanted to. I probably would have joined him. Me, being polite. Stranger things had not happened.

Arriving home after a remarkably rough day should be a relief. A quiet time when you can reflect on what you have done and what you still need to do. It should be restful. Getting home after a remarkably rough day and finding a werewolf about to throw down with a duet of Wiccans while an undercover fed watches is none of that and more.

Make that three undercover Feds. How Jones managed to get the Spook Squad extra manpower I could not imagine. It was difficult for them to get more pens, never mind high-level surveillance. It was a troubling sign. For a long time the greatest defense of the Community was that humans denied our existence and anyone claiming our existence was dismissed as a lunatic.

The status quo had clearly shifted if Jones could get the manpower to spy on me in a matter of hours. Then again, a building exploded and cops were shot at. It might have been the terrorism that incentivized the feds to move expeditiously. My only hope laid in Vlad’s ability to get the pressure off fast while I groped about for answers. After that I would leave Detroit behind and start fresh somewhere else. Someplace tropical where Uncle Sam would have more trouble spying on me, I was thinking deep in the Brazilian rainforest. Yeah, as if I would be able to get that approved. It was far more likely that I would be relocating to the middle of nowhere. 

The Feds were trying to be inconspicuous but I knew everyone in the neighborhood and they were strangers. Plus, this was a neighborhood where most of the residents were at work or sleeping after getting back from work. Fear swarmed over them. Perhaps they thought I would start killing people randomly. It didn’t seem like they were going to make a scene now. That was good for me. Worrying about a supernatural brawl breaking out in front of my building was not good for me.

I didn’t recognize either of the Wiccans, no surprise there, but I did know who the wolf was. John Green, he worked as a personnel trainer at a local gym and was about midlevel in the pack. I suppose that was meant to be an insult of sorts, but I would be telling the truth if I said I cared in the slightest. I rarely bothered with dominance games. The dark shades blocking his eyes meant that his wolf was peeking out. I couldn’t blame him of course, no one liked Wiccans.

“What’s the matter furball? Was it something I said?” Taunted the intense red headed witch. The other, a pleasant looking blonde, was visibly distressed. With good reason. Werewolves ranked amongst the fastest and most magic resistant denizens of the Community. Josh could rip both their throats out before they could cast anything strong enough to stop him. When I stood directly behind the pair I said just that. Both jumped and the blonde let out a high-pitched squeal. This caused me to laugh, which in turn made her puff out her chest and try to look tough. You cannot look tough after jumping and screaming in fright.

John swiftly recovered his composure. The red head was momentarily terrified but covered it up well. The end result was that all three were on one side facing me. Not one of them noted my approach. One of the perks of being a quasi-spirit was that even supernatural beings with heightened senses can’t sense me most of the time. Unless they were specifically looking for me, then they would actually be able to detect me.

“Unless all of you want to make the news quietly follow me.” I walked up the stairs to my apartment and they reluctantly followed. None of them liked how I’d managed to surprise them.

I saw my land lady a few doors down talking to some guy, one of my neighbors I suppose. I had never really bothered to get to know any of them and most of them didn’t know that I existed. I ushered my guests into my apartment and instructed the Wiccans to start working on the amulet I slapped into their hands. I would only give them one for now. I told John to help himself to the raw meet in my fridge. Ms. Franklin focused her eyes on me and hobbled aggressively to where I waited.

She really should have a cane, and glasses, and a hearing aid, but she refused to acknowledge the effects of time on her body. “You’re the strange one in 2D right? The police were here earlier asking about you. I don’t care what you do with your life but I don’t want the pigs sniffing around. Got it?” She emphasized her point by jabbing my chest with a bony finger. Ms. Florida Washington possessed a deep seated distrust of the police, as many minorities do. She was around when the cops could and would randomly beat the shit out of a person for the color of their skin and had never gotten over her mistrust. I didn’t blame her for that. The police were still quite racist here in Detroit.

Unfortunately for me the color of my skin was a bit of a hindrance when dealing with her. She was a lot less lenient with me than with the other tenants. I was pretty sure she was charging me more than the ono-white residents. “I apologize for any inconvenience the police may have caused. I am sure that this will all blow over soon. You know how they can be.” Attempting a reassuring smile would be counterproductive with the perpetually sour women. I nodded goodbye and retreated behind my door.

John wasted no time in taking up my offer and was with much speed and grace devouring some twenty pounds of raw meat. I keep a lot on hand for this sort of occasion. The Wiccans were sitting on my bed with their heads together. I would let them get some work done while I spoke with the werewolf.

“So Johnny boy, I trust your alpha has brought you up to speed on recent developments?” He certainly didn’t like being called boy. Werewolves have a near suicidal urge to challenge everyone and everything. Fortunately I had already kicked the shit out of John a few years ago. He knew where he stood with me.

He finished chewing the chunk of meat that was in his mouth and fixed my chin with a level stare. “He told me you caused a massive shit storm and that a wolf was involved. And that I was to tell you that none of ours were involved and that we don’t know who the out of towner was. We’re looking into it though. He was pissed about a strange wolf hanging around.”

“That’s it? An awfully short message for all the trouble of coming over here.” But the Detroit alpha was a bit old fashioned. It didn’t matter how benign the information was, you sent a messenger for politeness’ sake. His insult of sending a relatively low ranking pack member was offset by the fact he sent someone at all. “Whatever. I have DNA and finger prints from the strange wolf. Hopefully you can find something.”

He gave me a shit eating grin and said, “Thanks for this. And I came all the way over here because my motto is ‘Never say no to free meat’. Everybody knows you feed your guest well.” And with that he shot out that door leaving me with two agitated Wiccans. They were arguing in harsh hushed tones and both were trying in vain not to look in my direction. I think they were speaking Italian, a language I am not fluent in.

I let them stew for a few more minutes while I heated up some left over wings. I didn’t think they would try to attack me here, too many people knew they were here. The Wiccans were still on thin ice with the Community and attacking a Shaman would be suicidal. Of course, the last twenty-four hours was a perfect study in Murphy’s Law. What can go wrong will go wrong.

The blonde got up, hesitated, and then took the five steps necessary to bring her into my kitchenette. She sat, hesitated some more then spoke in a calm voice, “We cannot identify the magic used, it is not the work of a witch. But we cannot say more for sure.” Ah. I think I would have preferred they attack me. It would have been far simpler that way.

“Is there anything else you can give me? Anything at all?” If the Wiccans couldn’t identify the talisman then it wasn’t the work of anyone from this plane of existence. I would have to ask the Fae now, something I was truly loath to do. I would already need their help in finding information about the troll and ogre and now this. Assuming they were being honest with me. The representative from the Conclave would act as a second opinion.

“I’m sorry Mr. Smith but we can’t do anymore here. If we could take the talisman back to our coven we could perhaps glean more information.”  She seemed nice and genuine, but I could still see the eager gleam in her eye. Any witch would be ecstatic to dig into such an advanced piece of magic. I was just as ecstatic to stop them from doing so.

“Perhaps in the future, but for the time being I will maintain possession of the talisman, it is the only one I have.” I certainly wasn’t going to tell them there were two in my possession, there was no need to considerably tempt them. Before Blondie could say anything the red head shot up from my bed and got right in my face again.

“I get it. No one trusts those Wiccans right? No telling what they could be up to! Fuck you! You ask for our help then you don’t trust us enough to let us help!” I didn’t have any readily available smart ass remarks to respond with. Not that I really needed to, she was stating the obvious. A witch went into every encounter knowing the other side did not trust her in the slightest.

The blonde pulled her back. “Enough Shelby! I am truly sorry for her outburst. We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. I am Jessica Stewart and this is Shelby Adams. We will relay this information to our coven leader and contact you soon. Good day Mr. Smith. And I will ensure a bill for our services is sent to your financial representatives.” I didn’t bother to say anything as the Wiccans hustled out and left me with my increasingly disjointed thoughts. I needed to distract myself while my subconscious worked through the pieces of my puzzle. There was only one place where I could allow my inner most mind to ponder my thoughts.

I couldn’t say specifically why I found mini-golf to be a soothing interlude to the stresses of the day. Many would describe it as a frustrating activity. At one point everyone who has set foot on the miniature green has wanted to pull a Happy Gilmore and take a putter to a possibly satanic clown. For me it was a simple way to occupy my speeding mind. The past twenty-four hours were strenuous ones. Enough to drive me to the far side of Detroit to contend with giant plastic animals determined to bar my ball from passage. There were closer mini-puts but I needed the best to mellow myself out. The Detroit Lion’s Den miniature golf course was probably the best in Detroit if only because it provided two well decorated eighteen-hole courses.

It was bordered on one side by a small park and the other by a parking lot for a strip mall. I was definitely being watched. The feeling of unfriendly eyes grew with each passing second. As it was noon on a Wednesday most people were at work or school. Yet a surprising amount of people had filtered in. On the surface the newcomers appeared perfectly pleasant, but so did Kevin Spacey in The Usual Suspects and look how that turned out for everyone. The worst monsters were always the ones who could convince the world that they were perfectly harmless. A healthy dose of paranoia never killed anyone but my enemies, and they suck so it’s ok.

There was a youthful looking couple a few holes behind me having way too much fun. Who cheers when their ball goes flying off the course? A few inconspicuous vans parked in the parking lot and a few too many childless couples enjoying the park pointed to covert surveillance. It can actually be fun to watch someone while they are watching you. It was either laugh or get pissed and I couldn’t afford to get pissed. Through my keen observation I noted that the watchers were not all on the same team. It wasn’t shocking. I doubt the alphabet soup agencies coordinated all that well. In fact the relationship between agencies seemed like a giant pissing contest to see who could capture the blankest check from the government. I was probably being looked at as a prize.

They could definitely recognize each other. Even now there were probably angry and indignant calls being made between shady people in expensive paid for by the taxpayer suits. But that summed up my situation in way was well. Too many moving parts and factions competing against one another with not enough information being shared among the concerned parties. I could scoff at the humans and their disorganization all I wanted but it didn’t change the fact that my world was hardly any better.

Regardless, I needed to start piecing together my information in order to make the jump to a satisfying conclusion. I was far more confident in my theory that I was looking for a mage as the trigger man on the house. It was not unreasonable to assume the trigger man brought in the mercenaries as well. A mage with fairy connections and enough power to huff and buff and blow the whole house down. The Conclave representative would hopefully be able to shed some light on my mystery mastermind.

The Fae would be their usual unhelpful selves if I tried to follow the mercenary lead. There wasn’t a way to tell where the Fae came from in the first place. There were numerous Fae monarchies and several wars going on at once. It wasn’t uncommon for soldiers to desert their respective armies to form mercenary units. I would have better luck with the werewolf. I doubted the werewolf managed to live completely off the grid, his prints or DNA would turn up something. There wasn’t much more I could do on that front.

My mind drifted back to the talisman. I believed the Wiccans when they said they didn’t know whose magic created it. That meant all mainstream magic was out. I would be looking for a practitioner of an obscure form of magic. I would have to rely on the conclave for that information as well. They were constantly researching such things. Both of the talismans were safely tucked away in my apartment inside a well-hidden enchanted lock box. The lock box would nullify any kind of tracking enchantment. Of course, it wouldn’t be difficult for my enemies to find me. If they were Community members then all they’d have to do is ask where the local Shaman lived.   

My contemplation was interrupted by my two least disliked law enforcement officials. Hemmingway was his usual stoic self and Jones must have finished sucking down a lemon a moment ago. I banked my purple ball around the stout toad knight stubbornly blocking my passage. It was a lousy shot and my ball bounced around between the toad and the wall. I was off my game today. Jones calmly stepped onto the course next to me but didn’t block my way. I liked that. Hemmingway stood just off to my left, not an immediate threat but he could close the distance quickly if need be.

We were already on a hostile footing. I wonder how many of the watchers belonged to her, if any of them did. Vladimir hadn’t been able to give me a significant amount of information on her. “Hello again Mr. Smith. I hope you don’t mind the brief interruption of your… game.” I suppose she didn’t approve of a grown man playing mini-golf. “I wanted to continue our conversation from yesterday.”

I sighed and leaned on my putter. How had it come to this? In the old days I didn’t have to put up with this shit. I could do my job then relax in glorious anonymity. It seemed I would be under constant surveillance for the foreseeable future. “Sure thing Officer Jones. I just want to know if I am under arrest or not. Also, should I contact my attorney? You never can be too careful these days with legal matters.”

“You are not under arrest and you do not need to contact an attorney. Yesterday we never got a chance to really talk. Could you tell us where you were during the incident yesterday?” I didn’t have to answer any of their questions if I wasn’t under arrest. Normally I would be my charismatic self and wind up getting dragged into an interrogation room. But today I was being polite.

I didn’t even get a chance to show my politeness skills. A large group of suits sprung out of a convoy of black SUVs and were moving my way with great purpose. Jones noticed them as well and assumed the look of someone who received devastating news. The leader of the pack was a douche bag, an epic douche bag. I hated his slicked back blonde hair, his expensive black suit, and  his smiling face. His sneering face, he looked like a rapist.

Wow. Only rarely was I struck with such a scathing reaction to someone at first sight. He hadn’t even spoken yet and I was already certain I hated him. Jones moved with a fine liquid grace to intercept him out of hearing range.

Hemmingway kept his vigil over me. I went back to putting immediately. Federal intervention wasn’t going to stop me from making par on this hole. Only two shots separated me from a Bogey and one obstacle still barred my path. I still tuned into their conversation of course. I would be sure to gain some important information from the conversation. I smacked my ball down the cheap felt course toward the gaping mouth of the “Agent Goodwin, may I ask what you and your team are doing here?” Whoa, and I thought she had been cold with me. Physicists could an awful lot about the nature of absolute zero from the tiny yet fierce women.

“Agent Goosie, or rather Officer Jones as it is now. I am under no obligation to explain myself to you or anyone else in this rat hole of a city. I do however, require an in depth conversation with that man. He is a suspect in a high profile terrorist attack.” Agent Goosie? That was delicious. I hoped that was her real name. But damn I couldn’t let her know that I knew. A normal person could not have heard anything at this distance. “Furthermore Officer Jones, you are supposed to be assessing the capabilities of Detroit’s special task force. Not chasing down possible…suspects. Now I am afraid I must spirit your man away for a bit.” A Freudian slip perhaps? Maybe, maybe not. But not many people would use a phrase like spirited away. Or maybe I just wanted him to be a bad guy. He was such a douche bag.

“My name is pronounced Gousie not Goosie. And it is exactly my business why you are barging in here without any forewarning. What happened to subtly? He is a probable Exo.”

Goodwin cut her off harshly.  “Careful what you say Officer.” I made a note to find out exactly what Exo meant. “Some things are above your pay grade and this is one of them. Now, please step aside so I can do my job, because unlike you my job actually matters. You and your freak show can clean up when I’m finished.” With that crushing blow delivered he pushed past the stunned Goose and zeroed in on me.

I managed to move on to the next hole by the time they finished bickering. It took my last shot to get through the toad’s mouth and into the hole. I then had to choose between a shorter right path that slopped dangerously uphill before an equally steep decline and a longer gentler curving left path that would land me further from the hole. Decisions, decisions. Left or right. I decided to go left. My ball rode the cheap felt floor with much grace and rolled onward to the hole. A hole in one. I could use the pick me up.

This is when Agent Douche bag casually kicked the innocent ball from his path, off the course and into the muddy trench running along the perimeter of the course. He was evil, I had my suspicions, but his actions confirmed it. No one of pure heart and soul can disrespect the mini-put. No one of pure heart and soul could possibly wear such repugnant cologne either, if I had to guess I would say it was burnt leather.

“I am terribly sorry about that, but I am afraid I need you to come with me Mr. Smith.” I had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t sorry at all. Should I stay or should I go? More decisions. I would go. This was a valuable intelligence gathering opportunity. I put my putter over my shoulder and looked Agent Goodwin in the eyes. Something that made him noticeably uneasy. I clearly wasn’t intimidated by the amount of styling gel used to prop his hair up and he didn’t like that.

His sickeningly sweet smile broke down into an uncertain sneer. “I would love the opportunity to get to know you better. I feel like we are complete strangers. Now who are you and where are we going?” See I could be polite.