Ashes of Raging Water

by Michael J Allen

  Mrs. Cox snorted. “You think my Quayla did this? The florist who putters around on an electric jelly bean, murdered innocent animals?”

  “Video doesn’t lie.” Sabrina picked a muffin up off the offered plate.

  Mrs. Cox snatched it from her mouth. “My Quayla isn’t that kind of woman. You will surrender my belongings and leave these premises, Officer. You and your accusations are no longer welcome on my property.”

  “I can get a warrant.”

  “Then do so.”

  Sabrina pulled her phone and aimed it at the frame. Mrs. Cox snatched the picture back, hugging it to her chest. “Good-bye, Officer.”

  Sabrina picked up her notebook and exited as asked. She stepped onto the sidewalk and called into the precinct. “I need a search warrant for apartments 1A and 3C at the following address.”

  Mrs. Cox appeared at the top of the steps. She marched down to Sabrina and shoved a red Solo cup into the detective’s hand. “Finish your milk.”

  Sabrina frowned at her.

  “Waste not, want not.” Mrs. Cox spun on her heels and marched back inside.

  Detective Foxner

  Sabrina pulled to a hasty stop in the government center parking lot, her temper distracting her enough that she nearly ran her car’s nose into the concrete railing. She slammed the door and thundered across the parking lot. The warrant was on the way, but the process had ground to a slow crawl for reasons her captain couldn’t explain.

  Damn coroner better have that report ready.

  She badged into the building, rushed to the elevator bank and hit the down button. Doors opened to a handsome and probably useless man in a suit. He smiled on seeing her, opening his mouth in preparation from some probably unwelcome advance. She stormed inside and stabbed the button for Basement E. He exited on the next stop, eyes dark but never having spoken.

  She stepped out of the elevator into white hall lit by flickering florescent bulbs, at least one of them almost as dead as the rest of the floor’s contents. She threw open the door. “Where’s my report?”

  The ginger coroner glanced up and smiled. “Hello, Detective.”

  The young doctor looked particularly pleased with himself. Behind him a number of large glass jars had been added atop his filing cabinets holding odd body parts she couldn’t readily identify. He picked up a purple folder from the corner of his desk as he rounded it. “Here you go.”

  She scanned its contents—mostly scientific—scowl increasing until one nonsensical word stopped her. “Troll?”

  Bradley smiled. “Yup.”

  “Troll?”

  His expression faltered. “Yes, troll. Surely, you’ve heard of trolls before. Like in Dungeons and Dragons.”

  Breathe. You can’t hit the little shit.

  She cracked her neck, trying to imagine calm, picturesque scenes that nonetheless seemed populated by bizarre severed bodies that’d haunted her nightmares. “I never played.”

  “Oh, fantastic game, really helps build imagination, problem-solving skills, even interpersonal skills—”

  She glanced around the morgue. “Obviously.”

  His smile flickered for only a moment. “Okay. How about Tom Cruise? You look like a Tom Cruise kind of gir-woman.”

  “Tom. Cruise?”

  “You watch movies, right? He did this fantastic movie way back before he became a raving egomaniac.”

  Sabrina folded her arms and narrowed her eyes.

  “Legend? Come on, Tim Curry!”

  She tapped her foot.

  “Were your parents monks or something?”

  Her control lost the war. “What the hell are you blathering about?”

  Bradley took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “The bones you brought me are from the previously thought mythological creature known as a troll. According to available sources it’s a large, generally malevolent beast which can regenerate from nearly any damage.”

  “Mythological creatures don’t exist by definition.”

  Bradley rounded his desk once more, sliding out a filing cabinet drawer. He rummaged out of her sight until he brought out a bone in a tall glass jar and heavy rubber gloves. He set the jar on an examination table and opened the lid with exaggerated care.

  “This is the whole bone you brought me.” Bradley ducked under the examination table.

  Sabrina reached for the open jar.

  “Stop!”

  “What?”

  “That’s very strong acid.” He lifted a set of glass tongs. “You don’t regrow skin—well, not in a way that would restore what you’d lose.”

  He took the bone from the jar, walked it over to a wash station and rinsed it thoroughly. “In myth, trolls regenerate, right? Only fire or acid stops them from regrowing anything lost in battle. Insidious creatures really, either they have no females, or they are insanely rare. Not that it matters. Chop a troll in half with a broad sword and you have to fight two trolls tomorrow.”

  “They regrow brains?”

  “Not sure they’ve got much brain to regrow.” Bradley smirked. “Guess I’ll find out when I grow a whole troll. My containment ideas are still too weak, need more refining...few more tests.”

  He set the clean bone on the examination table, placed a face shield across his eyes and took the knob end of the bone off with a bone saw. “There. Now watch.”

  Sabrina watched, quickly feeling ridiculous. “Watch what?”

  Bradley frowned, but it refused to stick long. He rushed to his desk and returned with a ruler. “Maybe this will help.”

  She watched.

  I don’t see anything.

  “The end has grown a millimeter,” Bradley said. “Technically they both did, but I’ve only got one ruler.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Sorry, bone grows really slow, but it is growing.”

  “I don’t have time for any of this bullshit, doctor. I need to know what happened in that building and your little chemically-induced hallucinations aren’t getting me anywhere.”

  “Look, I could only guess about the lost specimens, but this has to be troll. What else do you know that can visibly regrow itself?”

  Sabrina turned her back on him, hoping that not seeing his smug little insane face would help her not put a fist in it. The only piece of physical evidence she had left from the crime scene and the little nut insisted upon blathering about myth and movies.

  Just call it a dead end and go see about that warrant.

  “Thank you, doctor, for trying. Obviously, it’s unidentifiable by medical science.” She marched toward the elevator. “Good day to you.”

  Bradley

  Bradley frowned after her. The bone had grown almost a centimeter and had started regrowing the knobby end. He slipped the larger piece back into the acid and resealed the container. He grabbed an ‘out to lunch’ sign from his desk, hung it on his door and locked himself inside. He pulled a small ice chest from the corpse cooler and laid out the mangy old cat that he’d picked up in an alley that morning.

  He gave the cat a once over. The poor malnourished thing’s fur fell out in clumps. He found no injuries on the body, but did notice a surgery scar.

  She’s chipped, but otherwise the body looks sound—must’ve died of old age.

  Bradley couldn’t have found a better subject if he’d bought it from the internet. If his experiment brought her back to life, the cat’s old age would limit how long Bradley could work with her, but unlike his other experiments, the cat had an intact brain.

  He removed the chip to prevent anyone tracking the animal and used a hypodermic to withdraw some troll marrow from the regrowing little knob. He injected the marrow into one of the cat’s bones before moving the exam table closer to his desk.

  His grin spread as the marrow replicated itself. As with earlier experiments, it melded with the body parts he’d injected and tried to regrow the host animal. An excited giggle escaped him.

  He set a torch in easy reach then fetched a lunch bag
from the cooler. He plopped down at his desk, eating liverwurst on crackers. While he waited for the dead cat to reanimate he examined the tracking chip. He slathered another Ritz and popped the whole thing into his mouth.

  He chewed, salty meat underpinned with the slight sweet of the Ritz crackers. With a shrug, he pulled up the chip tracking database so he could add the cat’s statistics with his experiment notes.

  “Origination, Howell Mill Humane Society.” Bradley scowled at the screen, mumbling dubiously to himself. “Age, eight...weeks?”

  He glanced over at the twitching cat.

  Must’ve mixed up their records. So much for that.

  Vitae

  I knocked on Aquaylae’s door. The door opened, revealing her mortal paramour. “Can I help you?”

  “Step aside.” I shoved past the nuisance toward where Terra loomed over Aquaylae. A grunt of surprise and thud of impact suggested I’d used too much force. A twinge of guilt caused me to hesitate, but Aquaylae’s condition drew me forward.

  The mortal recovered fast enough to interpose himself. “Who the hell are you?”

  It seems I did no lasting damage.

  A sidestep allowed me to circle the mortal, but he seized my shoulder and turned me around. “I asked who you think you are.”

  I looked down at the mortal that’d diverted Aquaylae from her duty. Worry undercut his expression, but he faced me with strength.

  Not a warrior, but would he go to war with me to defend Aquaylae?

  “I am here to harm Aquaylae, how do you intend to stop me?”

  The mortal looked to Terra who’d raised his brows in response. Dylan lifted his elbows away from his body, trying to appear larger. “I’ll stop you.”

  Why in the name of the Light would Aquaylae defy me so vehemently for this ineffectual lump of clay?

  “Of course you will.” I pushed him from my way.

  “Hey!”

  I spun on my heels. “I am Vitae, Aquaylae’s superior.”

  Terra cleared his throat. “Technically, Vitae, that designation belongs to Summuseraphi or Vilicangelus.”

  I ignored Terra and shoved a finger into the mortal’s chest. “If you truly wish to help Aquaylae, go downstairs and bring up the stretcher.”

  The mortal squared off against me. “I don’t answer to you, and I didn’t invite you in, so how about you get out of our apartment?”

  That the mortal would cover his weakness with impertinent bravado only lessened his overall worthiness. I narrowed my eyes, intensifying the glow of my essence behind my glare. “I was told you were worthy of Aquaylae, but instead I find a weakling so ignorant that he’d hamper the one capable of seeing to her well-being?”

  The mortal looked over my shoulder.

  Terra’s basso answered his silent plea for help. “While I cannot excuse his rudeness, Dylan, I imagine Vitae’s reactions are centered in concern for little sister’s well-being.”

  “He can help her?” Dylan asked.

  “Aquaylae does not have time for your mortal indecisiveness. If you truly care about her life, fetch the stretcher from the ambulance parked below, otherwise step from my path and stay out of the way.”

  Dylan stormed out of the apartment.

  “That was manipulative,” Terra said.

  I dismissed the accusation with a gesture and marched past Aquaylae’s sleeping form toward her bed chamber. “He won’t remember this once he’s rewritten.”

  “Little sister will object to you rewriting her paramour.”

  Aquaylae might well object, but I had both her best interests and the best interests of our Shield in mind. Our duty to protect all of Atlanta trumped her personal desires. The sooner she realized this, the sooner she might prove herself capable of rising to the occasion as a shield. Of course, she wouldn’t accept the wisdom of my judgement because she wasn’t capable of putting anyone or anything before her own desires.

  A surge of fury met me just over the threshold to her bedroom. The untidy disaster substantiated all I believed of her. It provided all the evidence I needed that she wasn’t taking her duties seriously. Moreover, the stench of taint clung to walls and carpet.

  Living in filth, cavorting with Sidhe in her bed chamber...unbelievable, more it’s unacceptable. Once she’s safely sequestered, I’ll need to inspect the others’ residences too. This Shield must become what He meant it to be.

  I strode to Aquaylae’s nest and glowered at the remaining dregs of essence. “Terra?”

  “I am here.”

  I started but recovered quickly. “Have you seen this disgrace?”

  “I employed the remainder of her essence to speed her recovery.”

  All of it? Had she let her nest grow so low?

  “Yes, little sister has been remiss, though not so much as your expression suggests,” Terra said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Anima logged numerous new seeds added around Atlanta a few weeks ago, shortly after Aquaylae reported a tip regarding the humane societies.”

  “What is your point, Terra?”

  “I believe the level of her nest is a direct result of a hasty assembling of those additional seeds.”

  “Irrelevant. She’s had more than sufficient time to recover such losses. Between her slovenly habits and your use of her remaining essence to stabilize her, she is no longer safe outside the sanctum.”

  “Vitae,” All of Terra’s exasperation was voiced in the single word. “Our Shield has decided against living in the sanctum.”

  I gestured at Aquaylae’s nest “This is why shields belong in the sanctum, why there are rules—to prevent shields from running amuck, totally out of control.”

  Terra watched me in silence for several moments. “Vitae, life is not easily contained with the rigid framework you seem so fond of touting. I have stood shield between Aquaylae and harm. Even had I failed, her egg remains.”

  “Inept as Aquaylae insists upon remaining, Ignis insists she’s discovered the edges of a greater plan. If our Shield is under siege, we cannot afford to be short any shield, not even an ineffectual one.”

  “Your evaluation is flawed, Vitae. Are you perhaps displacing your guilt over Mare into anger at her replacement?” Terra asked.

  I opened my mouth, but Dylan marched into the bed chamber. “What’s that about being under siege? What’s going on? Does it have something to do with Quayla’s death or the attack last night?”

  “This mortal knows too much,” I said.

  “Bylaws permit certain exceptions,” Terra said.

  “At the Shieldheart’s discretion,” I snapped.

  “That has never been enforced.”

  I gestured at Dylan. “Obviously, it should be.”

  “What the hell do you mean by that, birdbrain?” Dylan asked.

  “How dare you?” I seethed. “You who live only because of our protection. You are unworthy of Aquaylae, and I forbid you to see her.”

  Terra’s smirk vanished. He interposed himself. “Vitae, I think temperance might be the better—”

  I closed the distance between us. “You are not Shieldheart. These are my decisions to make. You’ll help me load Aquaylae into the ambulance and assist in the loading of her nest.”

  Terra stepped back and folded his arms. “Ask with respect, Shieldheart, or do your own lifting.”

  I considered Terra. He had long been the backbone of our Shield, more temperate than Ignis and more dependable. I inclined my head. “Forgive me, shield brother, my distress over our peril and Aquaylae’s condition overmastered my control. I offer my apologies.”

  “And what about me?” Dylan asked.

  I pressed my lips into a thin line.

  “Dylan is correct, Vitae. If you owe me an apology, then you owe him no less.”

  I forced a smile. “I offer you apologies for the harshness of my words. Thank you for bringing up the stretcher.”

  I exited Aquaylae’s bed chamber, eager to draw out Vilicangelus’s feather. Summon
ing a rewrite to excise Aquaylae’s weakness from our lives would hopefully focus her on what was truly important. She’d never hold a feather to Mare, but she might become a passible shield with enough discipline.

  Removing the mortal would benefit her too, though I doubted she’d understand.

  I’m saving her from watching Sidhe or old age take the mortal. The fulfillment of doing her duty will assuage the loss.

  18: Broken Hearted

  Terrance

  Terrance set a restraining hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “He is not himself. There’s been great tragedy this week. We know your value to little sister. All shall be well.”

  “Why can’t she just recover here?” Dylan asked.

  “I can coat my bones in stone. A vitae can accelerate her healing.”

  “Is this about what Mrs. Cox said? About that thing coming here looking for her?” Dylan asked.

  “Yes. Something stirs that must be addressed. Aquaylae’s investigation cost her a life and almost a second. We cannot afford the loss of a second shield just to guard her here.”

  “Terra!”

  Terrance’s smile faltered. “My Shieldheart summons. Blend her drink afresh, that it give her strength for the move.”

  “She really didn’t like it,” Dylan said. “It reeks.”

  “Medicine should never taste like candy, lest we forget that being ill is not desirable.” Terrance headed into the living room. Vitae stood imperiously to one side, arms folded and foot tapping.

  Dylan took the blender’s pitcher from the fridge. Two pulses combined separate layers before he put it in a travel cup.

  “Load her,” Vitae said.

  “In a moment,” Terrance said.

  Vitae closed the distance between them, heat in his voice. “I should be in the Shield, protecting this city. Instead, I’m here because you ignored my instruction to transport her to headquarters.

  Vitae pointed at Aquaylae. “She’s laid out helpless and of no use protecting this city because she ignored my instructions to stay out of the Goblin Market and because, despite my strenuous objections, the four of you overruled me and moved out of the sanctum to where faerie can attack you individually.”