The Vigiles Urbani Chronicles- Year One

by Ken Lange

  Pulling him in close, I whispered in his ear, “You have no idea who I am.” I glared at him. “Who are you?”

  He choked out. “Fuck you.”

  “You realize I could kill you right now, and there isn’t anything you could do to stop me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Better that than to betray my master.”

  I slammed my fist into his gut. “And who’s that?”

  He coughed, and laughed. “Do it. My death will only serve to make my lord stronger.”

  Tempted as I was, it wouldn’t do me any good. This man was a fanatic, and I’d seen far too many of his kind over the years. They’d do anything to serve their cause, even if it meant their lives. Frustrated, I shoved him away with all my strength.

  He flew back several yards, hit the sidewalk, and finally skidded to a halt. I stooped, swept his cane into my hand, and waited for his next move. He struggled to get to his feet before turning tail and heading away at his fastest waddle.

  As the adrenalin rush wound down, it struck me that I’d just thrown a rather rotund man several yards. I wasn’t exactly a slouch in the strength department, but tossing around three hundred pounds of struggling lard one handed was a little outside my norm. The most shocking discovery was that it hadn’t even been a strain. It was as if the man were light as a feather. But judging by his size and the way he hit the ground with a squishy thud, that clearly wasn’t the case.

  I scanned the area to ensure the dimwit had truly left before unlocking the gate. I paused at the bottom of the stairs and dialed my uncle to let him know I was on my way up.

  Pushing the apartment door open, I found Andrew and Isidore seated in the wing chairs at the far end of the room. Concern worked its way onto Andrew’s face, and he pointed at me. “What’s that?”

  I blinked and glanced down at the cane. “Oh…it’s nothing.” When I held it up, several of the strange markings were glowing. The moment my gaze fell onto an ebony inlaid O, an irrational anger ignited in my soul. “This…thing belonged to an asshole who was trying to bribe me into walking away. The dipshit wrongly believed that I’m your hired muscle.”

  I flipped it up to grasp it in both hands and slammed the vile thing across my knee. The moment it snapped in two, a brilliant red light filled the room, followed by a powerful shock wave that blew me through the door. I hit the far wall and left a massive divot before falling face-first into the landing.

  Forcing myself onto my knees, I groaned. “What the hell?”

  Andrew got to his feet and helped Isidore to his.

  Isidore’s gaze was a mixture of awe and confusion. “How’s that even possible?”

  Andrew shook his head in disbelief. “No idea.” He crossed the room and picked up the remnants of the cane. “Someone just let you take this from them?”

  I suddenly felt like a kid who’d broken their mother’s favorite piece of china. “Not exactly.”

  Andrew frowned. “Care to elaborate?”

  I really didn’t, but he needed to know the kind of danger he was in. It took me a couple of minutes to recount my encounter with Troll Boy.

  Andrew blinked. “Can you try to remember what the man said just before the creepy dark thing hit you?”

  I struggled to recall the phrasing, and it was likely to be wrong. “The first bit I missed completely but the other was obumbratio…or something like that.”

  His mouth fell open, and he dropped the two pieces of wood. “Sepherea obumbratio?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that’s it… What does it mean?”

  Isidore scoffed. “It means you should be little more than a pool of bloody goo on the sidewalk.”

  Andrew cut his eyes at Isidore then shrugged. “More or less. But it loosely translates to sphere of shadows.”

  Scooping up the two pieces of wood, I chuckled. “Guess it was my lucky night.”

  Andrew pointed at my hand. “You obviously don’t know the half of it.”

  I gestured at him to keep going. “It’s your turn to spell it out for the dumb kid in class.”

  Andrew waved me over to his desk. “This is going to take a minute, so you might as well make yourself comfortable.”

  I grimaced and removed my jacket. “Mind if I clean up first? I’ve ruined enough furniture this evening.”

  Isidore stepped closer to give me a thorough inspection. “That’s your blood?”

  I nodded. “Unfortunately, the guy who stuck Heather got a piece of me first.” Grunting, I frowned at the ripped fabric. “This sucks. I haven’t had this thing a full day, and it’s already ruined.”

  Andrew gently tugged the shirt out of my hand. “This was from George?”

  “Yeah, and now it’s ready for the trash.”

  Isidore sniffed and frowned. “Strange. I can’t pick up the scent of an open wound.”

  Waving off his concern, I gestured at my side. “It was closed up by the time I got to the hospital.”

  Andrew scratched his chin. “It can’t hurt to let him take a look at it. He was a medic back in World War II.”

  When I peeled off the shirt, I’d expected a little discomfort but there wasn’t any. “Huh.”

  Isidore raised an eyebrow and stepped closer. “Good lord, man.”

  “What?”

  He chuckled. “You’re ripped…” His voice trailed off as he glanced back at Andrew. “There’s plenty of blood, but no trace of a cut.”

  Cocking my head to get a better view, I poked at the area…and nothing. He was right. It was as if I’d never received the wound. The only proof of the injury was the dried blood. “That’s weird…it was there earlier.”

  Andrew circled me and shook his head. “That is peculiar…but it’s only one more in a string of very strange things as far as you’re concerned.”

  Feeling a little self-conscious, I said, “Why don’t we discuss that after I’ve gotten myself cleaned up.”

  With great reluctance, he nodded. “Fine…I need to make a couple of calls anyway.”

  I opened my mouth to ask who he’d be calling at this hour then closed it again. That too would have to wait until I was no longer a half-naked gory mess.

  Twenty minutes later, I was clean, dressed, and back in the living room with the others. While I was in the shower, they’d gone through several scenarios to test my shirt, only to discover the enchantments were working. Now it lay in a crumpled heap on Andrew’s desk, next to reports from the morgue and the UCD, which were filled with anomalies.

  The anatomy of the Asian man was somehow irregular, but the coroner needed to wait until their specialist showed up before they could say more. The file from the UCD was little more than a couple of forms at the moment, but Lt. Baptist assured Andrew that he’d send over any information as it became available. Isidore had spoken with Kim, but there wasn’t any change in Heather’s condition.

  Andrew sighed. “I’m still at a loss how you survived the spherea obumbratio.”

  I shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess, but if it’s any consolation, it did turn my stomach.”

  Isidore flopped into the chair next to me. “Not sure luck had anything to do with it.” He gestured at me. “It’s almost as if the normal laws of magic don’t apply to you.” Running a hand over his face, he yawned. “One of the forensic guys, an Archive member named Gregory Ingram, says that the dagger was heavily enchanted—”

  “Was?”

  Andrew frowned. “I’m having them send it over to verify his findings, but according to Gregory, it’s now completely drained of its power…which would explain why Gavin was able to break it.”

  Isidore shook his head. “It would if we hadn’t just watched him snap a focusing object in half.

  The sense of being the slow kid in class was on me with a vengeance. “What’s a focusing object?”

  Andrew smiled. “It’s an item used to store magic, or power, for later use. Most are something the person would have on them all the time, such as a ring, or in this case, a cane. Something that wouldn�
�t draw attention.”

  “Okay, so what’s the big deal? I’m sure they break from time to time.”

  Andrew chuckled. “Actually, they don’t.” He held out a hand for patience. “Granted, enchantments can fade, and focusing items can lose their potency over time. But that wasn’t the case—with the cane, at least. Given its current state, it should’ve been virtually impossible to destroy.” Frowning, he said, “And if theories are to be believed, the energy inside would run rampant and level everything within a few city blocks.”

  I blinked. “Are you sure that’s what it was?”

  Isidore nodded. “We’ve gone over the object several times…it’s clearly a receptacle meant to gather and store power.”

  Andrew nudged one of the broken pieces. “That you were able to snap it like a twig with such minor consequences is startling…and it raises so many other questions.”

  “Such as?”

  Andrew got to his feet. “I’ve got an idea, but it needs testing. Would you mind if I tried something?”

  The way he asked made it sound like I was volunteering to be a crash test dummy.

  Hesitantly, I nodded. “I suppose it’s the fastest way to figure out what’s going on.”

  Andrew’s left hand glowed violet before he slammed his palm against my chest. The light engulfed and blinded me for a few seconds before fading away. Andrew stumbled back, panting, sweat pouring off him, barely able to stand.

  The brilliance of the light show gave me a headache and my skin tingled, but otherwise I was in much better shape than my uncle.

  I put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “You okay?”

  Andrew coughed and struggled for breath. “Yeah…I’ll be fine in a second.”

  Isidore helped him into the chair he’d vacated. “Andrew?”

  He waved him off. “I’ll be okay.”

  Isidore frowned. “You’re sure?”

  Andrew nodded. “Yeah, I can feel my strength returning.” Glancing over at me, he chuckled. “Goddamn, that’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced. It was like you were pulling the power out of me, and it was all I could do to stop you from draining me completely.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. “Any idea what it means?”

  Andrew shook his head. “Not a clue, but don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

  “Thanks.” I gestured toward his room. “But for now, it looks like you could use some sleep…and so could I, for that matter.”

  Isidore helped Andrew to his feet. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard in the last few hours.”

  He nodded. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Isidore escorted Andrew to his room, and I made my way to mine.

  Apparently, being immune to telepathy wasn’t my only superpower. Of course, I wasn’t sure what to call this newest development, but maybe after a good rest, things would start to make more sense. For now, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep.

  Chapter 12

  It was minutes past noon when I rolled out of bed. My head ached, my back was sore, and I generally felt like I’d been run over by a truck. I was accustomed to not sleeping a lot, but the last couple of days had tested my limits.

  A shower helped alleviate most of my issues… I was hungry, but a quick stop in the kitchen for leftovers cured that little problem. When I stepped into the hall, the sound of muffled voices made me curious.

  Opening the door, I found we had company. Mrs. Broussard sat in one of the two chairs in front of my uncle’s desk. An older, refined-looking gentleman sat next to her, eyeing Isidore with great distaste. If I had to guess, this was the infamous Mr. Broussard I’d heard so much about.

  Kimberly offered Andrew a warm smile. “It was fortunate that your man Gavin was there. If he hadn’t been…” She shivered. “I’m not sure what would’ve happened.” Kim glanced over at her companion. “The only thing is, we don’t know why anyone would want to harm her.”

  Andrew opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly at a loss for words. That was when I decided to intervene. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Broussard.” Waving a hand at the man I hoped was her husband, I asked, “Is this Mr. Broussard?”

  Kim turned to me and beamed. She stood, and her much-shorter husband reluctantly followed her lead. “Good afternoon, Gavin. I was just telling Andrew how glad we are that you were there last night, and yes, this is Robert.” Gesturing at my side, she asked, “How are you?”

  I patted my side and gave her a casual roll of my shoulders. “It’s like it never happened.”

  A polite laugh escaped her lips. “I doubt that, but I’m glad to hear you’re doing okay.”

  “Thanks… How’s Heather?”

  Robert stepped around his wife with his hand out. His voice was a grating mix of arrogance and entitlement. “I’m Robert.”

  When my hand met his, it was like grasping a soggy noodle. “Gavin.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was my tone, the calluses on my hand, or if he considered me unworthy of his touch, but he quickly jerked his hand back and made a show of wiping it on a handkerchief.

  Tucking the white cloth into a pant pocket, he sneered. “I know.”

  Kimberly glared at the top of her husband’s head. “Heather’s prognosis looks good. We believe she’ll make a full recovery.”

  Robert scowled, his face purpling. “We were here asking why our daughter was attacked.” He gave me an appraising once-over that practically accused me of being at fault. “Would you happen to have any idea?” He waved his hand back at Andrew. “Because he clearly doesn’t know.”

  It was a sad state of affairs when I’d known someone less than sixty seconds and I already wanted to throw them out a window. I took a deep breath and forced myself to stay calm. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  Robert huffed, staring daggers through Isidore. “I’ve got at least one very good idea why she’d be attacked.” Anger and hatred flowed out of him as he turned to Andrew. “And it’s all your fault for making her associate with his kind.”

  My instant dislike for the man deepened. I moved between Isidore and Robert. “Care to be more specific about his kind?”

  Robert took a step back as he quickly reassessed me. “Let me guess, you’re one of the filthy beasts.”

  I huffed out a laugh. “You have a problem with werewolves?”

  Robert found a set of balls and jabbed a finger into my chest. “Werewolves. That implies that your kind have a human form.” He removed a handkerchief and cleaned the digit. “The lot of you need to be taken out back and disciplined, or, better yet, put down, so the rest of us don’t have to deal with your stench.”

  Kimberly grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “You forget where you are.”

  Robert glowered at her. “Why should I bow to him when he associates with such disgusting creatures?”

  Kimberly’s voice dropped, and her tone turned dangerous. “I’ve put up with your bigotry for a long time because of our child, and our positions. It was my hope you’d change, but it’s clear that’ll never happen.” She pointed at the broken door. “I’m going back to the house to pack my things, so if you want a ride, you’d best follow me out.”

  Robert spat on the floor at my feet. “Filthy beast.”

  It took everything I had not to punch the man in the face, but that would’ve been a waste of effort. He would never see the light, no matter how hard I tried to beat it into him. Waving at him, I chuckled. “Bye, Felicia.”

  Robert blinked and stammered, “Are you so daft that you can’t remember my name?”

  I rolled my eyes. “God, you’re stupid.” I shooed him toward the exit. “You might want to leave while you’re still able to walk.”

  He glared at Andrew. “You’re going to let your dog talk to me like that? I should’ve never allowed you to train Heather.”

  Kimberly glowered at Robert. “You didn’t allow her to do anything. It was with my blessing that she came here, and she will conti
nue to do as she pleases.” She stepped away from the little man. “Soon you’ll be able to do the same.” Turning to Andrew, she forced a smile. “I’m sorry you had to witness this.”

  Without another word, she walked out.

  Robert gestured at the door. “This is what happens to your home when you let rabid dogs off their leash for too long.”

  Kimberly’s heels were stamping out an angry rhythm as she went down the stairs. Robert, suddenly realizing he was alone with the three of us, hurried after her.

  Goddamn coward.

  Andrew shook his head as he followed them out.

  Isidore flopped into the chair Robert had vacated and chuckled. “Why did you tell him you’re a werewolf? He’s going to hate you even more than he would’ve.”

  I flipped off the large divot in the wall. “Fuck that racist sack of shit!” Plopping into the chair next to his, I grumbled, “And for the record, I never said that I was… I didn’t correct the jerk, but those words never left my mouth.” I rubbed my hand over my face. “Does everyone in the Archive hate werewolves?”

  He shook his head helplessly. “No, but there are more than a few who do.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Let me get this straight—so to speak. You’re gay, black, and you happen to be a werewolf… God was certainly in a mood when you came along.”

  Isidore shrugged. “He had to do something to ensure my humility after making me so handsome.”

  Andrew stepped through the doorway and beamed at me. “Gavin, if I haven’t said this lately, I love you. I’ve wanted to tell that asshole off for years, but considering the politics involved, it’s been impossible.” He placed a hand over his heart. “Thank you.”

  Looking over at Isidore, I smiled. “It appears God made me irresistible.”

  Andrew started to open his mouth but closed it, and held out his hands to stop any sort of explanation. “I don’t even want to know…don’t ruin the moment for me. All I want is to etch the look on Robert’s face in my memory.”

  I groaned at the sight of the busted door. “I really need to fix that. Where’s the nearest hardware store?”