by Kal Aaron
“Does this work better?” Lyssa asked, motioning around the lot.
Damien gestured toward the building. “I think meeting in the parking lot is worse, and that’s before we worry about cameras and drones.”
“Huh. You didn’t seem bothered when I contacted you earlier.”
“Because I didn’t want to waste a lot of time on logistics.”
“And by the way, who cares about drones? Everyone knows I work with the EAA. What other problems are there?” Lyssa looked at the sky. “I’m not seeing any drones.”
“It looks like we’re trying to be shady meeting out here,” Damien offered a weak smile. “The truth is I was going to ask you to reconsider where we’d meet, but you seemed kind of wound up, and I didn’t want to piss you off. I still haven’t got you figured out, but I’m getting there.”
She needed to do a better job of communicating with him. Not all their complications were his fault, but for now, she needed to keep control of the conversation.
Lyssa chuckled. “If you don’t want to piss me off, tell me you’ve got something for me. I’m not Samuel. I know how to use a computer, but that doesn’t mean I can get access to someone’s private email account easily, and I don’t know how to do it without leaving a trail I don’t want to leave. I’m hoping our mystery suspect isn’t an expert either.”
Damien’s huge smile reminded Lyssa of a happy puppy. Every man wanted to be useful, and it could be hard to work around someone with a power like sorcery.
“I did my work and then some,” he said. “I’ll spare you the epic tale of bureaucratic wrangling, but the finished product was an expedited warrant to have the FBI check out email accounts accessed from Nardi’s phone.” He pulled out his phone and tapped it a few times before handing it to Lyssa. “And I think this is what you want.”
It was an email message from a nonsensical address of random letters and numbers. She leaned forward to read it.
Lucky,
I love your channel. You and Jake are geniuses.
A man with your name deserves more from life. I was doing some research for an unrelated project, and I recently stumbled across your channel. At first, I thought it was pointless and stupid, but I soon began to see the value and genius, which is why it’s painful to see you’re hemorrhaging subscribers.
I’m not in internet show business, but I understand how difficult it is to be constantly fresh. I know how much effort you put into things.
You can feel free to ignore me, but might I suggest a solution? I’ve seen some similar channels shift focus to paranormal content, but it’s all fluff and nothingness.
You can do something different. I happen to know a place where you can document spectacular proof of the power of sorcery, a haunted mine in Arizona. You could drive there in less than six hours from Los Angeles.
Don’t worry. None of the ghosts there can hurt people, but you’ll get excellent footage. I know you two can do it.
I’ve been there and seen impressive things. It’s changed everything I believed about life and Sorcerers. Most of us only see their power on recordings, but you’ll get to personally record an impressive display of magical occurrences. The Society and the EAA won’t be able to filter it, but I promise it’s not dangerous.
You might not believe me, but I’d argue there’s little for you to lose. A smart man like you must understand it’s inevitable your show will fail. You’ll be on a treadmill, working harder and harder, only to fall into nothingness and obscurity and end up working in some soul-crushing job forever, clinging to a mere memory of what you once had. You don’t deserve that.
But if you start your new show as a supplement, you don’t have to give up the foolish but challenging antics you two so clearly enjoy.
I don’t call you a fool to insult you. A true fool is someone who can stand up to a king and his self-important knights. Your humor is a weapon that unlocks truth, and it has gotten me through tough times in my life. For a serious man like me, it’s been helpful.
Your work inspires me. I know people often demean comedians but remember the old saying. Drama is easy. Comedy is hard.
You can stand up to everyone with the power of humor once you secure your revenue stream with the paranormal footage. I think you’ll do a lot once you can go forward again.
You can stand up to kings, presidents, gods, goddesses. The night itself. You two can become kings of the internet, the ultimate fools ruling over truth.
I’d ask you not to tell anyone about this message. I’m taking a great personal risk in passing on this opportunity because of some existing contracts I’ve signed in an unrelated business. If I knew anything about internet shows, I’d do it myself. Follow the directions in the attached document, and you’ll find something that will assure you success for years to come.
You should consider a livestream. I think that would add more excitement. Your fans will feel like they’re right there with you.
-A Big But Too Serious Fan
Below the signature line was a line of letters run together. It looked like gibberish at first glance, but Lyssa peered at it and gasped.
“You arrogant ass,” she muttered. “You are begging to be punched.”
“Hey.” Damien frowned and backed away. “What did I do? I don’t deserve to be hit.”
“Not you. Our mystery rogue.” Lyssa held the phone up to Damien and pointed at the line. “Do you know what this means?”
Damien shook his head. “Is it an encryption thing? You want me to run it past some analysts? I can do that, but I can’t guarantee they’ll get it back ASAP.”
Lyssa shook her head. “I already know what it says. ‘Burn away all the impurities of the world.’”
“Huh?” Damien looked at the phone. “That’s not what it says. Is it some sort of spell that looks different to you? I didn’t know you can do that.”
“It’s not a spell, but it is related to Sorcerers. It’s Romanized Lemurian writing all run together. I’m not surprised you don’t know it.” Lyssa growled. “The rogue’s poking me in the eye, trying to brag by using a Torch saying that he thinks he’s going to get away with it.”
“It’s not impossible to look up Lemurian stuff on the net these days,” Damien replied, looking doubtful. “And he didn’t send the message to you. He sent it to Lucky Nardi. If I couldn’t read the message, why would he expect some random college kid to be able to read it?”
“You don’t think we have a rogue after me finding a mine full of monsters?” Lyssa asked. “Come on, Damien.”
“I think there’s a rogue involved, but I’m not getting the angle here with the email.” Damien scratched his eyelid. “What would a random rogue Sorcerer have against two internet goofballs? Why bother taunting them to the mine?”
“Ignoring the Lemurian, everything about this screams sorcery ritual,” Lyssa replied. “He emphasized them being fools, but that might not be accidental.” She gestured at her mask. “You know how much archetypes and titles mean to the Illuminated. I’m not saying this is ironclad, but the email is very odd and specific.”
“You’re saying he’s got some sort of fool-related regalia?” Damien asked, frowning. “Or a sorcery based on that kind of essence?”
“I don’t think it’s that simple. I think he needed someone representing the fool archetype for a ritual. Something to do with that mine. I think our guys got picked. Wait a second.” Lyssa brought up the browser on the phone. “I’ve got an idea. This might not have been as random as we thought.”
“What?” Damien leaned back, trying to see what she was typing.
“One second,” Lyssa replied. “Let me check something out.”
She entered the search query “Who are the greatest fools on the internet?” and skimmed the listings. The first ten results were all related to April Fools’ Day, but the next result after that was an article. The title was enough to solve the mystery about how Nardi and Colmes were chosen: Ten Ways the Greatest Fools on the Internet
Jake Colmes and Lucky Nardi are making an entire generation stupider.
Lyssa winced and showed Damien the phone. “It was bad enough when I thought they were picked at random, but now I think a man died because of a nasty listicle. That’s the internet for you.” She sucked in a breath. “You’d think those two wouldn’t have driven six hours because of a random suspicious email, but Nardi must have been even more desperate than I realized. That entire email sounds like a hyper-suspicious opener to a scam, which it kind of was.”
“It gets worse,” Damien replied with a grim expression.
“Of course it does.” Lyssa leaned forward on her bike and rested her arms on the handlebars. “Lay it on me. I can take it.”
“The message comes from an account that was created the day it was sent, and no other messages were sent from it.” Damien took the phone back. “The FBI cyber guys tracked the IP address to a library here in Phoenix. They were all excited to help out on a Torch case without having to deal with the sorcery. It’s not every day someone from outside the EAA gets to do that.”
“They tracked it to Phoenix?” Lyssa frowned. “Not Los Angeles, where the guys are from?”
Damien nodded. “That’s not that crazy. They’ve got fans all over the world, but I don’t think this was some teen prankster wannabe with a big head. The library in question has a decent number of security cameras. Those cameras suspiciously malfunctioned around the time the account was created and at the time the message was sent. There’s a forty-five-minute gap in the footage because of it.”
Lyssa growled. “The Phoenix-area connection I could accept, but combined with that? No way. That screams of sorcery. Between that and the Torch quote, this bastard might as well be spitting in my eye directly.”
“It’s not like he did it in Scottsdale,” Damien said. “The other stuff I’m not so sure about, but the Phoenix thing really could be nothing more than a coincidence.”
“A lot of people don’t know where I live, even Sorcerers,” Lyssa replied. “They know I live in the valley, but not which city. A rogue might have assumed Phoenix.”
“We don’t know this is a challenge to you. I think we need to be cautious about assuming that. We’ve got a rogue, and we now know they lured the two victims in, but I don’t think we can conclude anything more from the evidence at hand.”
Lyssa sighed. “The line about standing up to goddesses and the night seems targeted at me, but you might be right.”
“He didn’t send the email to you,” Damien replied, his voice louder and more strident. “He sent it to Lucky Nardi and told him to keep it secret. Our mystery man had no reason to think you’d track it down. If his plan had worked, Nardi would be dead, and we’d never know about the message.”
“That could be true,” Lyssa replied, “or he might have assumed they’d end up as monster food, and we’d investigate and find out eventually.”
“That’s a lot of moving parts to pull off a plan.” Damien shook his head. “I don’t know, Lyssa. You’re staring at an inkblot and seeing what you want to see here.”
“You’re right, I might be seeing what I want to see. It’s possible, but that doesn’t guarantee anything.” Lyssa waved a hand. “You know what? It doesn’t matter for now. We should focus on what we know, and we know there’s most likely a rogue who made monsters and got someone killed, but we still don’t know why they did it. That doesn’t matter as long as we stop them.” She cut through the air with her hand. “And if this bastard wants to play cat and mouse, he’s not going to like it when this hungry cat catches up with him. People don’t hide unless they’re afraid.”
Damien said helplessly, “I want to help you, but I don’t know what else we can do at this point. If you bring me specific evidence, I can liaise with the FBI or other agencies to look into things like other emails or set up surveillance, but it’s not like we can track down everyone who writes creepy fan emails using throwaway accounts. It’s not practical.”
Lyssa shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. This guy was careful enough to mess with the security cameras and create a fake account, which means he’s tech-savvy, or even worse, he might be a Sorcerer who’s integrated tech into his spells. We won’t catch him using conventional techniques.”
“Then what’s your play?” Damien asked. “Are we dead-ended on this?”
“I’m going to contact Samuel again. He might have found out something more or might know more and be holding it back, and I can shake it loose. Once he realizes a rogue purposely baited two random Shadows and might be targeting me, he might be willing to throw more resources at it. In the meantime, I’m feeling an urge to check out a book.”
Chapter Eighteen
Lyssa hopped off her undisguised Ducati, set her helmet on the seat, and headed toward the sidewalk. Visiting the library as Hecate would be too obvious, but there was no reason anyone would be suspicious of Lyssa Corti showing up. It was not like she was famous, and she didn’t have a big enough ego to think her mere presence would turn heads. Her bike was hotter than she was.
She looked around, taking note of the positions of the small dome cameras before jogging up the sidewalk and turning the corner to head toward the main doors. The best way to investigate was to go to the scene of the crime. Somebody pulled a trigger in this library, and she needed to find clues.
An excited-looking man approached her with a clipboard as she neared the entrance. “Excuse me, ma’am. Do you have time to hear about a new refer—”
“No,” Lyssa said and walked past him. “I don’t care about anything or anyone,” she lied. “Better luck next time.”
A woman tried next. “We’re doing a survey about your favorite movies, and you can win free movie tic—”
“Don’t care,” Lyssa replied. “All movies are terrible, especially the ones I like.”
The woman cocked her head to the side with a puzzled expression, then backed away slowly, a worried look on her face.
Lyssa’s harsh tone and cool gaze scared off two other people with clipboards and a tween uniformed Arbor Scout who scurried back to her table and hid behind another smiling Scout.
She slowed as she passed the Scouts’ table. The girl was selling sugar wafers, including strawberry flavor. That might be a treat for later, but first, there was a job to do. Rewards were for people who did their jobs.
Lyssa passed through the swarm of people and Scouts near the entrance and pushed into the main library through the double glass doors. A small café sat near the entrance.
She lingered near the café, listening for anything unusual and feeling for sorcery. There was nothing. Whatever sorcery might have taken place hadn’t lingered. She hadn’t expected it, but it didn’t hurt to check.
Damien was right. There were too many unknowns remaining in the situation. She needed confirmed facts.
Lyssa stuck her hands in her jacket pockets and walked past the café and the circulation desk. Her mystery rogue hadn’t come to borrow a book. He’d come to make a fake account on a library computer. She marched toward a row of computer desks in the back and slowly walked past the machines, trying to sense sorcery. The computer stations were filled with patrons tapping, clacking, and clicking.
Most people paid her no attention, but one woman scowled at her. A man gave her a bright smile and waggled his eyebrows. She ignored everyone and continued concentrating on sorcery but finding nothing. Lyssa walked over to the circulation desk, wondering if the whole thing would prove a waste of time. There was no guarantee there would be any lingering sorcery to find.
The librarian manning the desk offered her a bright smile. “How may I help you today, miss?”
“Is there another set of computers here?” Lyssa asked. “My boyfriend swung by earlier to check out the latest Martelle release, and he told me he left his hat underneath the desk. He loves that hat.”
“Oh.” The librarian pushed her lips together and puffed her cheeks as she considered the query. “I don’t remember seeing
any hats in the Lost and Found, but if you go up to the second floor and take a left from the elevator, you’ll find more computers. I hope you find it. I know how annoying it can be to lose something you like.”
“Thanks. I’m sure I will.” Lyssa smiled and waved and headed toward the elevator.
She stepped off and spotted the computers, losing hope of finding anything useful. The upstairs computers looked far older and more worn than the machines downstairs, with half their screens dark and paper signs on the fronts reading OUT OF ORDER. A couple of teen boys sat in the corner, their chairs pushed together, laughing at some meme Lyssa didn’t understand featuring a cartoon character she didn’t recognize.
“Damn it,” she mumbled. “I’m only thirty. When did that become old?”
“I don’t consider it old,” Jofi said.
“I’m glad the non-human spirit entity has great insights into the aging experience.” Lyssa snickered. “But I’m not Samuel.”
“I agree with that.”
One of the teens looked Lyssa’s way. She walked down the back row of computers, earning curious stares from the teens before stopping close to the end.
Her heart kicked up. The pressure was faint, but there. Sorcery.
Lyssa frowned and looked around the desk for anything of interest before shoving the main tower to the side and finding a thin USB stick underneath. She snatched it and brought it closer to her face, narrowing her eyes.
The teens eyed her. One frowned.
“Are you, like, ripping off the library, lady?” he asked. “That’s lame. Go shoplift from a store.”
Lyssa grimaced. “Lady? How old do you think I am?”
“I don’t know. Old.” He shrugged. “Like, twenty-five?”
She grinned. “Twenty-five? Okay, I’ll take it. I like you.” She shook the stick. “And I’m not stealing. This is mine. I forgot it earlier. It’s a miracle it’s still here.
