by N. P. Martin
"Corvin." It was her. "Is Amelia with you? Her phone is going straight to voicemail."
I focused straight ahead at the rain running down the glass in rivulets. "There’s something you should know, Simoa."
She went silent for a second. "I don’t like the sound of your voice, Corvin. Has something happened to Amelia? Where is she?"
I thought about lying to her, telling her that Amelia was staying at my place and that she couldn’t come to the phone right now, or some similar made-up excuse, but I knew she would just keep calling then. She probably knew, intuitively, that something was wrong anyway, so I didn’t see the point in lying. "Amelia isn’t here," I said.
"Where is she then, if not with you?"
I took a breath before answering. "The Shadow Realm."
Simoa went silent for a long moment, then said, "What?"
I spent the next couple of minutes explaining the situation to her as she silently listened. "I’ll get her back," I said. "Don’t worry." Even as I said it, I looked out the side window and shook my head.
"Don’t worry?" Her voice was seething. "I knew you were no good for her. I told her not be hanging around with human trash."
"Human trash?" I shook my head. "Simoa—"
"Don’t! Don’t try to make excuses for your failure to protect her. I should’ve been there…I should’ve protected her myself like I’m supposed to…"
"I doubt there’s anything you could’ve done."
"I would’ve done more than you!" she suddenly screamed, causing me to hold the phone away from my ear for a second, having had enough of her condemnation.
"I’m going to go, Simoa," I told her. "As I said, I’ll get her back."
"Fuck you, Corvin! Don’t you hang—"
"Bye, Simoa."
I hung up the phone and sat for a minute staring out the window, Simoa’s voice of condemnation still ringing in my ears. Human trash, I thought to myself. Well, at least I know where she stands.
Shaking my head, I started the car and went to meet Benedict, wondering as I did what delights he had in store in for me. One thing I knew for sure, though:
Whatever he wanted me to do, I knew I wasn’t going to like it.
The rain was coming down heavier as I pulled up behind a black SUV outside St. Stephen’s Green. As soon as I did, I got a text from Benedict telling me to get out and into the SUV. Before I did, I opened the glovebox and took out the plastic bag that was there. A plastic bag that contained the severed fingers and eyeballs that were left for me this morning. Then I got out of the car, putting my jacket over my head to shield against the driving rain, and jogged to the SUV, pulling open the back door and getting inside. As I sat on the plush leather seat, I did my best to wipe the rain from my face and neck.
"Try not to drip on the seats," Benedict said, dressed as always in a dark Saville Row three-piece suit, reminding me more of a politician who walked the halls of Westminster instead of someone who dealt with magic and monsters on a daily basis, although it could be argued that Westminster was full of monsters anyway, many of them far worse than your average supernatural thug.
Staring at him, I shook my head. "I’ll try not to."
"It’s a shame about the rain. I would’ve liked to walk."
I glanced at the driver up front who was staring straight ahead like we weren’t even here. Then I looked back at Benedict and tossed the plastic bag into his lap. "Present for you."
Benedict stared down at the wet plastic bag like I’d just thrown a turd in his lap. "What’s this?"
"Open it."
"Must I? It’s getting my suit wet."
"Boo hoo. Just open it."
Sighing, Benedict somewhat gingerly opened the bag, and then gagged a second later as he saw what was inside. "Jesus Christ," he said, taking the bag and planting it my lap. "What the hell, Corvin?"
I couldn’t help but smile at his disgust. "Someone left those on the desk in the bookshop in the early hours of this morning. Some man, I think, I can’t be sure. I never saw him do it, but he was staring through the window at me before I went out to confront him. When I got outside, he had disappeared, and when I went back in, the fingers and eyeballs were on my desk." I took out my phone and brought up the pictures I had taken earlier, showing them to Benedict. "See?"
Benedict stared at the photos, making a face like he had an unpleasant taste in his mouth. "I’ve just eaten lunch and you’re showing me this."
"Imagine how I felt when I found them."
He shook his head as he dismissed the photos. "Why are you showing me all this?"
"I was hoping you could take what’s in the bag and run some tests," I said as I went to put my phone away, which was now ringing again—number unknown. I rejected the call before turning the phone off altogether and putting it back in my pocket.
Benedict sat staring at me a moment like I was taking the piss. "Honestly, Corvin," he said. "It’s like you think I’m your contact on the inside or something, your go-to man when you need something, which seems to be a lot these days."
"You’d prefer I go to the cops with this instead?"
He shook his head. "Of course not. Just give the bag to Mike." He looked at the driver as he took the bag from me. "Take care of that, Mike, please."
The driver seemed to put the bag in the glovebox before resuming staring out the window at nothing.
"If we know who the fingers and eyeballs belonged to, then maybe we can find out who did this."
"We?"
"Isn’t the Council supposed to investigate stuff like this?"
"Funny you should say that."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
Benedict looked out his window for a moment at the rain. "I asked you here today for a reason," he said. "In fact, I’m here in Dublin specifically to see you in person."
This didn’t sound good. "Okay…so what do you want?"
He turned his head back to me, his hair immaculately groomed, the smell of his cologne hanging in the air. "As you know, there were three members of the proxy Council here in Dublin. Your mother was one, Iolas was another. But now that those two are gone, that just leaves the aging dwarf, Dhorbeg McQullian, who to be honest, might as well not be there at all. Since Iolas’ arrest, he hasn’t wanted to know anyway." He paused as he stared at me with his dark brown eyes. "That’s why we want you to step in, Corvin. The Council would like you run things here."
Puffing my cheeks out, I shook my head as I stared out the side window for a moment. "I’m not a bureaucrat, Benedict," I said eventually. "You’re asking the wrong man."
"No," he said. "I don’t think I am. I’m not looking for a bureaucrat, I’m looking for someone who can get things done, and you Corvin, seem to get things done."
"Not always."
"What do you mean?"
I turned my head to look at him. "Do you know where Amelia is right now?"
He frowned. "Amelia Tasar?"
"Yes."
"I don’t…"
"She’s in the Shadow Realm," I said. "And she’s there because I couldn’t save her. I don’t even know if she’s alive or dead right now."
Benedict stared a moment. "I’m sorry to hear that. How did it happen?"
"It doesn’t matter, the point is, you’ve got the wrong man. Shit tends to go bad when I’m involved."
"I don’t see it that way," he said. "I think that shit is bad in the first place before you even get involved, but you somehow manage to straighten it all out."
"With consequences."
"There’s always consequences, Corvin. They are just unavoidable, I’m afraid. The trick is learning to live with them."
"I am living with them. I don’t have a choice."
"Exactly. You understand that perfectly well. Your mother was a wise woman as well. She knew she could do more good working inside the Council than outside of it. Surely you are wise enough to see that also." He turned slightly in his seat so he could face me. "You’d just be doing what you are
doing now, only you’d have the full resources of the Council at your disposal."
"It’s a pen pusher you want, Benedict, a politician. I’m none of those things."
"You’re wrong, I don’t want that type of person at all. I want someone who isn’t afraid to stand up for what’s right."
"And you think that’s me?" I snorted slightly as I shook my head.
"I do actually." He paused. "Look, I’m not saying the job will be one long adventure. There will of course be tedious duties to be taken care of, the day to day grind of the Council machine, but that’s why you’ll have a team around you."
"A team?"
"Yes, you can’t run things alone. You’ll get final say on who else sits on the proxy." He smiled like it was a great opportunity he was offering me. "You get to run your own show, Corvin…within reason, of course. You’ll still answer to the higher-ups like the rest of us, but that’s just life."
"Higher-ups? Like you, you mean?"
"Me, yes, and the Council in Manhattan, obviously. We all answer to them."
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered by Benedict’s offer, and if my mother was here now, she’d be ecstatic that I was getting this chance, this chance to become respectable and make a difference as she would probably see it.
But my mother wasn’t here, and Amelia was still in the Shadow, having to endure who knows what horrors, if she was even still alive, that is. Then there was the sick fuck who left me the fingers this morning, not to mention the whole thing with the Order Of The Serpent, which I hadn’t forgotten about and still intended to pursue when I got the chance. My life felt hectic and out of control at the minute, and the last thing I wanted to be doing was running the Council here in Ireland.
"I’m sorry, Benedict," I said eventually. "I’m just not in a position to take you up on your offer right now, if ever. I don’t think I’m the right person for the job. I’m sure there are plenty of other suitable candidates out there."
Benedict sighed as he stared at me, his face seeming to tighten as he did so. "I’m sorry, Corvin," he said as he leaned forward and slid a manilla folder out of the pocket on the back of the driver’s seat. "But you seem to laboring under the illusion that you have a choice in this, when in fact you don’t."
I frowned as I stared at him. "What are you talking about?"
He waved the folder at me. "Contained within this folder is a report on your friend, Monty McGuire."
"What?"
"It’s not just a report, but also an order to arrest him."
I shook my head. "What the fuck, Benedict? Why?"
"The Vatican recently contacted my superiors on the Council," he said. "Informing them that that your friend hacked their computer system."
"Jesus Christ…" I breathed.
"I’m assuming he did it for you, yes?"
I nodded. "Yes."
"Well, regardless, he’s the one that will pay for it. The relationship between the Vatican and the Council is strained enough. The Vatican is not happy that a Technomancer hacked their system. The Council is therefore eager to see that justice is done."
"Come on, Benedict," I said. "He didn’t do any harm, and it was for a good cause."
"You had him looking into to the Order Of The Serpent."
"So now you know about the Order. It’s funny you didn’t before when I asked you."
"I probably know as much as you do, before you go getting on your high horse."
"I’m sure."
"Regardless, your friend is in a lot of trouble. The Council want to lock him up for his transgressions, which by the way, don’t just include the Vatican hack. Your friend has been quite busy over the years, hacking things he shouldn’t, conning people he shouldn’t be conning. He could go away for a long time."
Pursing my lips, I shook my head in mild disgust. "I see where this is going. You’re blackmailing me into taking that job, aren’t you?"
"Blackmail is such a strong word," he said. "More like gently coercing you down the right path."
"Fuck you, Benedict."
"Come now, Corvin," he said as he put the folder back in the pocket of the seat. "This is best for everyone, you especially. You’re running around at the moment like a gunslinger in the wild west. It’s only a matter of time before he get yourself killed. You need reigning in, for your own good. And besides, there are many who would kill for the job I’m offering you. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth."
I turned my head to stare out the window, the falling rain seeming to send me into a trance for a few moments as I thought about my predicament. I didn’t doubt that Benedict would have Monty arrested if I didn’t take him up on his offer. And then Monty would end up in some Council prison, perhaps in the room next to Iolas, his freedom taken away from him. Monty was a bird who liked to fly. He wouldn’t do well in a cage. His soul would be crushed. He just about made it the last time he was imprisoned when he was younger. He did six months back then, and every time I went to see him, he was more and more a shadow of his former self, soul sickness having set in, driving him almost to suicide. By the time the last few weeks of his sentence came around, I was worried sick he wasn’t going to make it. Every day when I woke up I dreaded getting a phone call from the prison telling me that Monty had hung himself in his cell. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. When he finally got out, I was probably more relieved than he was. Sending him back to prison now for a much longer stretch would destroy him, and there was no way I was going to let that happen, especially when he did what he did to help me.
"Okay, Benedict," I said eventually, turning my head to look at him again. "You win. I’ll take the damn job."
A smile spread across Benedict’s face as his relaxed composure returned once more. "Good man, Corvin," he said. "I’m doing this for you as much as anything else, you know. I like you, Corvin, and I don’t want to see any harm come to you."
"Save your bullshit. I’ve already said I’d take the job."
"It’s not bullshit. As young and as ignorant as you are, I still respect you, and I believe the Council will be lucky to have you."
"Well, the Council is going to have to wait a while," I said. "I have stuff to take care of first."
Benedict nodded. "I’m down with that," he said, the words sounding strange in his upper-class English accent.
"I’m glad to hear it."
"Just don’t take too long, now will you? Otherwise my superiors may step in and land your friend Monty in prison."
I threw him a look and shook my head. "Is this what you do every day, Benedict? Manipulate people for your own ends?"
"I simply do what has to be done, Corvin. No more, no less. You’ll understand soon enough, when you start your new position at the Council. And who knows, you may even climb the ranks and end up running things yourself, though not, I assure you, as long as I’m around." He chuckled at the notion of me superseding him.
"Don’t worry, Benedict," I said as I opened the door to get out. "There’s no danger of me stepping on your perfectly pedicured toes. Let me know what you find out about the package I gave you."
"Remember, Corvin," he said just before I closed the door. "Don’t take too long, or you know what will happen."
Shaking my head, I slammed the car door behind me. "Fuck you, Benedict," I said as I walked away.
Chapter 5
About twenty minutes later, I was banging on the door of Monty’s over-priced apartment in the city center. When I didn’t get an answer after the first knock, I sighed in frustration and banged my fist against the wood again, harder this time, my anger and frustration still at high levels after my meeting with Benedict. I still couldn’t believe the bastard had blackmailed me into taking that job. I had no interest in running the Council here. Not only that, I was just a bloody musician who owned a bookshop, what the hell did I know about running any council? Shit all, that’s what.
"Monty?" I shouted. "Are you in there?"
"Yeah, bro," he shouted from inside.
"I’m coming, I’m coming…" When he finally opened the door, his face seemed flushed and all he wore was a pair of boxer shorts and nothing else.
"Do you know what time it is?" I barged past him into the apartment. "You’re not even dressed."
Monty frowned at me as he closed the door. "Jesus, chill man. I was on the bog when you started banging my door. I had to hurry up. Things got a bit…messy."
I shook my head at him and sighed, knowing he hadn’t really done anything wrong to deserve my wrath, but I couldn’t quell my anger as I continued to direct it at him. "What the hell have I told you about being careful?"
"I was doing my best, bro. I have a touch of the runs today."
"What?" I shook my head at him again. "No…I mean with the friggin’ hacking, you tool."
"Oh, right, I thought you meant…" He laughed to himself as he came into the living room and sat on the couch. "What are you talking about?"
Sighing, I sat down beside him on the couch, unable to relax. "The fucking Vatican knows you hacked their system."
"What? No way…"
I stared at him. "You’re not invincible, dude, I keep trying to tell you that. High profile targets like the Vatican should be off limits. Do you want to end up in fucking jail again?"
"How do you even know—"
"The Vatican contacted the Council, and the Council contacted me." I shook my head. "They were ready to lock you up, Monty. For a long fucking time."
Monty’s face turned ashen at the thought of going to jail again. "Seriously?"
"No, I’m making it all up. What do you think?"
He looked away for a second, his good humor having disappeared in the face of my anger and condemnation. "I thought I was being careful," he said, staring at the floor.
"That’s what everyone says before they get caught," I said. "'I thought I was being careful, I thought I was better than them.' It’s bullshit."
Monty turned his head to stare at me. "What the hell’s up with you, bro? You’re never this pissed off. Has something happened?"
