The Axeboy's Blues (The Agents Of Book 1)

by Andy Reynolds

  “Rachel! Are you injured?”

  She looked up at him with mascara smeared in arcs across her cheeks, her bottom lip quivering. “No. I'm not injured.”

  He looked at the other bodies, but none of them were moving.

  “Leave me here,” she whispered, then fell into a fit of coughing.

  Julius looked at the large window, picked up a small table and hurled it through, letting water rush in to rain down with the glass. Lightning filled the sky and was gone, but was followed close behind by rumbling thunder. They must have been twenty floors up with The Central Business District spread out below them.

  Picking up Rachel in his arms, Julius ran and jumped through the window and into the howling wind and rain. Dark fur erupted from his skin as they fell, his T-shirt ripping at the seams as his body grew larger, but not large enough to rip the trench coat. His now massive legs absorbed the impact when they finally landed on the roof of a neighboring building. He ran across the roof and leaped up more than a story into the air to land on the next rooftop over, then ran up to a door leading into the building and kicked it open. His body shrunk down to become more human as he carried Rachel down into a stairwell, then through a carpeted hallway until he found an empty room.

  There was an enormous window on one side which lit up with lightning and then went black. The room looked like it used to house an office. Julius laid Rachel down on the hard carpet, took off his trench coat and did what he could to dry her with the inside of it. One of her hands and her chest were covered with blood.

  She sat up and gripped onto what was left of his shirt with her fists. “What's happening to me, Julius?” She pressed her face into his shoulder.

  Julius held her. “You have to tell me – tell me everything.”

  “It's too late.” She took one of his hands, opened it and put it around her throat. Then she looked into his eyes. “Kill me. Please.”

  “Rachel!” He pulled his hand away. “Just tell me!”

  “What I've seen... I can't live with it. Roman won't kill me. You have to. You're like my father. You're the one that brought me into all this.”

  He put her arms down and held her tight. “I'll help you through this. We'll figure out what happened, and we'll get through this.”

  Edith sighed and let the rest of the memory filter through the glove and into the copier. Her eyes were wet, though she hadn't let the memory in. Not completely.

  “Within a few months,” said Julius, “she'd taken out The Agents of Fateful Encounters, dying in the process, and taking my arm and my leg with her.” When he looked up at Edith, his eyes were watering. “If you and I have a similar conversation, it will end very differently. Do you understand?”

  Edith nodded.

  “That's all for today. You've done in days what Rachel couldn't manage to do in years.” He stood up and Edith powered off the glove and the copier. He put a hand on her shoulder. “You're one of mine. I don't take that lightly.”

  Edith nodded. “Thank you for sharing with me.”

  Julius looked over at Roman, who had crushed a half-eaten piece of Wonder in his hand. He was looking away from them, towards one of the other tables.

  “Are you alright?” asked Edith.

  “I am fine,” said Roman quietly. He walked over and unhooked the copier from the glove, then took it over to the machine to extract the memories from it.

  Julius merely watched him. “Tonight. If we don't make sufficient progress in hunting The Axeboy by the end of the night, you can look through the memories of the chisel, if you still feel up to it.” He looked at Edith. “You're right. We need to do all we can to stop him before Trumpet Fest.”

  Edith took a deep breath, then began loosening the straps of the glove.

  File 48 :: [The Function]

  Nestled in the midst of The Central Business District, somewhere between Spanish Plaza and the quarantine zone and just catty corner from Ernst Café, lies a strip of Fulton Street that becomes a pedestrian mall for one block. Housing several fine dining restaurants as well as a bowling alley, the old fashioned cobblestone street had been growing and becoming nicer in the past few years. From the light posts hung banners for Trumpet Fest.

  The Function looked over his shoulder as he stepped onto the cobblestone street. It was early enough that the restaurants were either not open or not very busy, and only a few tourists were hanging about. From the corner of the street he could see Le Croissant Cité in the distance. “Why don't you stand watch,” he said to Scape, his mosquitoed associate. “Or...um... fly watch. Hover watch. Whatever you prefer.”

  Scape looked at him over the rims of his yellow-tinted spectacles and brushed some debris off the shoulder of his burgundy vest with one of his six appendages. His feathery antennae wafted about in the breeze.

  The Function raised a finger at him. “And no, I don't feel guilty, so don't ask again.” He turned and walked into the pedestrian mall, in the center of which was a small gazebo ringed with bushes. He walked up to the woman who was examining the gazebo's wooden floor and posts – a woman who had very large dark wings spreading out from her shoulder blades.

  “Hello Sarah,” he said.

  She winced at the sound of her name, not taking her eyes off the gazebo. She was freaking gorgeous – in that she'd end up stabbing you but the sex would be worth it kind of way. The Function had to pull his eyes away from her and shake his head. He reached into his worn out British uniform coat and ran a thumb atop the rough line of scar tissue over his ribs. Damn, it had been so worth it.

  “It's so nice of you to pull yourself away from your busy schedule,” she said. “I hear you rob banks now. Did Serendipity run out of twenty dollar bills for you to find on the street?”

  “You think I get paid in twenties? That would be one hell of a raise.” The Function shrugged. “Though we do always need more twenties for people to find. Used to be so much easier when we could use fives or ones – but with inflation the way it is, what are you gonna do? It ain't easy being Robin Hood these days.”

  She turned and finally looked at him – looked him up and down as a matter of fact. “Well, you have Robin Hood's hygiene down pat. That's a good start.”

  “You think I have time to sit in a laundromat for a couple hours?”

  “It would be easier if you owned more than one pair of clothes. And that coat was ragged decades ago.”

  The Function grimaced and lowered his voice. “While we're working together, you should probably refrain from flirting with me,” he said. “Unless you're flirting with me on a professional level. Then, by all means, carry on.”

  She sighed and pulled out her cigarette case. “I'd like to imagine that you are here for a reason, but the more you talk the harder it is to convince myself of that idea.” She flicked open a metal lighter and lit up a cigarette.

  The Function nodded, pulled out his flask and took a swig of Chartreuse[27]. The thick syrup of herbs and alcohol stung his tongue and made a warm path down into his chest. “I'm here to see that everything is going well on your end, and to see if you need anything.”

  “Everything is going perfectly. If you and Scape would show up at Trumpet Fest just in case...”

  “We can be here.”

  “As long as you make sure not to mess anything up.”

  “I'll see what I can do about that part. Also, there are a couple new Agents. One of them is a young woman with bright red dreadlocks.”

  “Ok.”

  “It would mean a lot to me if she wasn't hurt.”

  Sarah blew out a long stream of smoke and pointed towards The Function's chest. “Oh, is this the woman-of-the-week? Is it true love again? I hope it lasts more than a month before you give her a reason to stab you...”

  “Hey...” The Function raised a finger at her. “You only... kind of had a reason. And no, I'm off dating for the moment. This girl, she's like my sister. Or daughter. God, that's weird to say. Never mind, let's just stick with sister.”


  “Well, if you keep Julius and Roman from killing my son, we have a deal. I'll try really hard not to throw your daughter-sister off a roof or into the river. But if she wants to stab you, I may or may not hand her a knife.”

  “She's probably the one person in this city that wouldn't try and stab me.”

  “Sounds like a one-in-a-million kind of girl.”

  The Function laughed. “You have no idea. And as far as your son's safety, I doubt you really have any illusions about me being able to control Julius, but I'll do what I can.”

  “I suppose that will have to work. If that is all, I have a lot to do before summoning my ex to wreak havoc and destruction on this city.” She turned and ran her hand along the wooden beam of the gazebo, then walked off towards Poydras Street.

  The Function took another swig of his flask, watching her body sway back and forth between those big wings while she walked. He reached into his coat and touched the old knife wound. Damn, what he wouldn't do to be stabbed by her again. Maybe when she wasn't so busy thinking about her ex. Then he pulled his eyes away from her and headed back towards where Scape was keeping watch.

  File 49 :: [Julius Marcos]

  Julius followed behind Roman as they made their way through the stone hallways of the Agents' headquarters, Roman pushing a large squeaking cart with a giant wooden crate on it. The crate was roughly the size of two coffins stacked atop each other and housed the dissembled pieces of a device Roman called The Gateway. They came to a large elevator and Julius stepped ahead to pull back the sliding cage door so that Roman could push the cart inside. They squeezed in next to it, then Julius closed the cage door and pushed a lever up and the elevator rattled its way slowly up the shaft. When it stopped, Julius opened the cage door and helped Roman push the cart out into a dark room.

  They were now in the bottom of the abandoned World Trade Center building[28], just across from Spanish Plaza. Julius flipped on the lights to the cement room that was once used as a shipping center. The Agents kept a couple of their bulkier devices in that room, which were pushed against the walls and either in crates or under tarps.

  Just on the other side of one wall were the streetcar tracks, which actually went into the side of the World Trade Center – part of the building's bottom was carved out to create a kind of hallway for the tracks. There was a doorway that used to be for the city officials to secretly load things onto different sorts of trains, but now this long since forgotten system was only in use by the Agents. Just inside the door to the streetcar tracks were a series of “folding tracks,” as Roman dubbed them. They were portable tracks that could fold and stack, though they were extremely heavy. Next to them was a small, ordinary train cart.

  Julius opened the door to the outside tracks and looked out, but no streetcars were in sight.

  Both of them began unfolding the heavy tracks inside the room, not connecting them yet to the outside tracks. “I'm really impressed with Edith and Mars,” said Julius.

  Roman nodded. “Yes, they are both extremely talented and are taking to the Agency quickly.”

  Julius could tell that Roman was overly analytical at the moment. He'd eaten more Wonder than usual while Julius showed Edith the memories of Rachel – eating Wonder to suppress his own emotions. Roman had been a dear friend to several of Julius' past incarnations, so Julius had a wide variety of memories about the half-Collector. Yet in all those memories, he'd never known Roman to truly love someone until Rachel. Her downward spiral had nearly destroyed him. Thinking back on it all, Julius was not surprised that Roman was alive, but was very surprised that Roman had the drive and mental clarity to carry on being an Agent.

  “We need Adelaide,” said Julius.

  Roman merely shook his head. “No we don't, and it's not possible. Unless you have some way to bring her back from the dead.” They unfolded a large piece of track, setting it next to the door, then picked up the heavy train cart and set it onto the inside track.

  “The Agents of Karma don't need her in 1934. The Agents Of do. The good she does after 1934 is insignificant compared to the good she can do with us in the present time.”

  Julius looked into Roman's eyes and he could see the pent up emotions warring with the logic-inducing Wonder behind them, like two oceans battling for control of the waves. “You can't,” said Roman. “It's probably not possible, and if it is you might destroy everything. The very city may be ripped in half. Time could be irreparably damaged.”

  “You don't believe that.”

  They picked up the crate that housed The Gateway and carefully set it onto the train cart. They had to move slowly as Julius only had one hand and it was hard to keep the large device balanced. After they'd placed it down, they pushed it around to center it on the cart.

  Roman closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at Julius from over the top of the crate.

  Julius shook his head. “I can't. I just can't send her to her death.”

  “She'll have a few years.”

  “But she's... she's so young. What if we keep her, just for a year or two. We can send her back to 1934 after that. No one will know but her.”

  “It isn't worth the risk.”

  “It is worth the fucking risk!” Julius put his forehead on the crate. “She is worth the risk. It's too soon. I can't knowingly send someone to their death – not after the swamp and Rachel. You, you can eat Wonder and forget things – push them down. But I can't. I don't have anything to help me do that.”

  “When I eat Wonder, I do not forget a thing. Do you think I wouldn't save Adelaide if it were possible? I held her as she died – you don't think I'd take that back? We will send her back to 1934, and the younger me will hold her once more as she dies. And then eighty years later he will send her back to die again. And so on.”

  Roman walked around the crate and put a hand on Julius' shoulder. “But this is why we are here. We can do what others in this world cannot.”

  “Why did she even come here?” asked Julius, knowing how absurd his question was even before he said it.

  “To apprehend The Axeboy and bring him back. To save our time from The Axeman. To train and teach Edith. Is that not enough?”

  Julius looked up at the open doorway as a streetcar squealed it's way past it and stopped. “Of course it is. It will have to be.”

  They unfolded the last piece of track out the doorway. It was a curved piece that lined up perfectly with the track outside. Then they pushed the laden train cart out the door and onto the outside tracks behind the empty streetcar, whose lit up sign above the back window stated that it was NOT IN SERVICE.

  “Thanks,” Julius said.

  “For what?” Roman picked up a box full of duct tape, bungee cords and rope.

  “Just thanks.”

  Roman went about securing The Gateway to the train cart, then used rope to tie the cart to the back of the streetcar, Julius helping where he could given his lack of a second hand.

  “You don't need any help?” asked Roman.

  “No, you stay here in case you're needed. I'll manage.”

  Julius got into the empty streetcar, climbed into the driver seat and shut off the hidden auto-pilot button. Then he shut the accordion door. Reaching back into his past lives, he pulled up some hazy memories of driving one of those things. After a few minutes of pulling and pushing knobs and switches, and after an assortment of strange noises and the lights flickering on and off, the streetcar began moving down the tracks. Normally they'd enlist the help of a driver, but with the current state of the Agency, Julius didn't want to have to worry about who to trust.

  The streetcar trudged its slow way out from underneath the World Trade Center and past the steps that led up to Spanish Plaza, then past the ferry terminal and the aquarium until it was moving alongside the levy with its bench-lined sidewalk and the river just beyond. When he came to Governor Nichols Street Wharf he spun a rotating lever and a set of tracks ahead of him lifted up, swung over and connected to a parallel set of tracks
that were used for cargo trains. The streetcar veered over and onto the other tracks. Julius flipped another switch to start using auxiliary power, since the power line that ran above the streetcar tracks was no longer above him. He passed alongside the warehouses and sitting trains, then turned away from the Mississippi and made his way along the tracks that ran next to Press Street, with the houses of The Marigny on one side of the streetcar and the warehouses that marked the start of The Bywater on the other.

  File 50 :: [Adelaide LaCoste]

  It was well into the night when Adelaide saw Julius wandering the loud and crowded street of Frenchman down below her rooftop perch. She sent a whisper to him, told him to meet her in the Artists' Market down by The Spotted Cat. She stood up and sent a handful of her words to Edith, who was keeping watch atop a building across the street, the bottom floor of which was a sprawling tattoo parlor. Walking to the back of the club whose roof she was using as her watchtower, Adelaide climbed down a balcony rail and onto a fence, then jumped down into an empty alley. She walked through the club's gate and blended into a group of young drunk people who were walking through the street, then ducked away from them and into the large alley full of bright Christmas lights and tables covered in paintings and jewelry, photographs and handmade T-shirts. She walked through the crowds and past several tables until she came to Julius shuffling through a basket of photos. She pretended to look through the photos next to him.

  “Any luck?” he asked.

  “Something's different. I couldn't find any evidence that he was hunting, so I figured that he wasn't. I finally found traces of him, but they're extremely faint. The sounds of the trumpets that follow him are barely there – as if only a couple of ghosts were following him rather than dozens.”