by J M Thomas
Aeron dutifully scratched notes on his paper like a schoolboy taking an exam. His hulking bulk dwarfed our tiny table so much the weight of his arm might tip it over if Don wasn’t already leaning a palm on the opposite side.
So, does that make me the client or the target? I stared at the page like it was inscribed in Greek. “Because…”
“Because patterns are liabilities.” Don’s brow furrowed, his tone serious. “If you knew how easy your check-ins on social media…” He pointed a finger at my phone. “...made it for me to find this place, case the nearest secluded spots for a lookout, and set up a target just high of your skull…”
“None of which would be an issue if someone wasn’t trying to kill me!” I bristled, tucking my arms close around me.
“Right, Lessie, but now, ‘ere’s a decent chance someone will try to take or kill you, so we need to take precautions.” Aeron poked at my pencil with the eraser end of his, nudging it toward me. “Our little stunt at Alena’s bought us a reprieve from ‘er tail, but the watchlin’s is more devious. I fink I’ve put the listener out, but the watcher’s been on our collective arse. ‘At leaves the ‘and, and I’ve ‘eard a rumor or free about ‘at one.”
“He’s a nasty fucker for sure.” His brow lowering, Don scratched his chin. “Can’t summon worth diddly, but the guy makes up for it in willingness to cross the line if it means one less necro on the face of the planet. I’d rather deal with five listeners and watchers than one hand.”
I glanced from one to the other, wondering if I should ask who or what they were talking about. The sheer number of questions overwhelmed me.
“We’ll deal with the watchlings when we get to them.” Don tapped his own mechanical pencil against the side of his clipboard. “While Miss Celeste puts her thinking cap on, I’d like an infrastructure status report from you, Lyons.”
Aeron let out a breath. “The biggest and most difficult problem’s gonna be supply lines, to be sure. Hugo’s good for items we might need, so you can pass on a list to ‘im directly, and ‘e’ll put it on the Ministry’s tab.” His voice lowered dangerously. “Unless ‘e gets snatched by the watchlin’s.”
I disliked the wobble in his voice when he said that word. “So… who are the watchlings again?”
Don beat Aeron to the punch, contrasting Aeron’s anger-laced fear with flat coolness. “A watchdog group, almost literally, with a penchant for sending necros to an early grave if they run afoul of the rules their faction sets.”
He continued, “They’re the descendants of the shifter packs who took out the undead population in this country, though none of them can actually turn into wolves or coyotes or any of that nonsense anymore. Good sense of smell though, and a few still have some physical features leftover, like pointed canine teeth or unusual speed. I raced one in high school track and field, dude was a beast.” Don grinned. “Almost literally.”
“‘Ey ‘unted the same undead the necros are descended from, so it’s a bit like bad blood between us. ‘Ow do you call it? A…” Aeron scanned the ceiling as if he’d find the word written on the log planks.
“A feud?” I supplied.
“Exactly like a feud.” Don snapped his fingers, then frowned. “I’m interested to see which way Hugo will go. He has the unique position of having territory on both sides of this fence.”
I still wasn’t sure I followed. “Meaning?”
Aeron scratched his chin, eyes narrow. “Meaning e’s got blood what descends ‘im from both werefolk and vamp, so ‘e’s necro and watchlin’ all in one. Brags about ‘is legacy and the neutrality it offers ‘im. I ‘appen to believe it’ll bite him in the arse to play both sides.” Aeron worked his jaw, the idea clearly troubling him. “I don’t care if you’re necro blood or watchling blood, you gotta stand for summin’, mate.”
As if sensing Aeron’s rising tension and making an effort to diffuse it, Don cut in, taking a seat. “Well, thankfully, we can acquire any amplifiers or focus channeling we need before the going gets tough, so supply doesn’t have to be a problem there.” He leaned forward on his elbows, eliciting a protest from the creaky little camping table. “And single-use inventory?”
“‘At’s where it gets interestin’.” Aeron folded his arms over his chest, boots tapping a rhythm I recognized from The Nutcracker on the wooden floorboards. “Ward’s out. I’ll be pulling in items from out of town, assuming ‘ere’s time.”
“What do you mean Lana’s ‘out’?” Don’s pencil froze midair. “She’s sold out?”
“Nah, mate.” Aeron crossed his arms tight over his chest as if he was trying to hold in some overwhelming emotion. “‘Er leukemia’s come back. It’s got to where she ain’t got extra blood for makin’ new batches. I’ve got an afternoon booked for a couple hours on the town before week’s end, then she’s going in for chemo. Probably ‘as to ‘ave donor bone marrow, too, so poof! ‘Ere goes ‘er magic.” He bit his lip, hitching a deep breath. “Just glad I caught ‘er in time.”
Don scrunched his face. “What do you mean?”
“She’d stopped eatin’ and ‘ad a lethal dose of painkillers saved up for when shit went down. Ain’t ‘er first bout, but she bet it’d be ‘er last.” Aeron’s jaw worked as he reluctantly met Don’s gaze. “I told ‘er it would be—because this time she’d kick its arse for good.”
“I hope you’re right. Dammit.” Don shook his head, his fingers squeezing his temples. His voice came out soft, like this wasn’t the first or even hundredth time he’d heard bad news like this. “I’m sorry to hear that, man. And not just because she’s mission critical personnel. That plain sucks ass.”
Aeron’s voice cracked. “Don’t suspect she’s comin’ out for a while. If she’s lucky, it’ll be year’s end before she works another batch.”
“You should’ve told me,” I whispered, blood rushing to my cheeks.
“Could Celeste help?” Don’s voice seemed suddenly flat again, his hand dropping. “Ward could work a batch in her sleep with blood like that to pay the cost.”
Aeron leaned forward slowly on the table, suddenly a brawny mass of threat. “I don’t need to explain to you what I meant by not getting ‘er involved.”
“Let me put it to you this way, then.” Don inclined his head, not shying away for a second from Aeron’s intensity. “We have two options on how to proceed. Option one, we keep Celeste safe from all things at all costs. I roll her in bubble wrap right now, ship her off to a safehouse, post a guard, and wait for everything to blow over. And by that, I mean Wachenta and every necro here goes to hell in a handbasket, because if you’re right, that’s exactly where this is headed.”
Aeron’s frown turned nasty.
“Didn’t think so. Option two, we do what we can to make sure everyone makes it out of this. That means an elevated risk to Celeste, but the benefit is that she’s part of the team.”
“I’ll take option two,” I piped up. “I’m not exactly tactical or deadly, but if there’s going to be trouble and I can be useful for once… count me in. I’ll do anything in my power to help.”
Shaking his head, Aeron enunciated slowly, “‘At’s a dangerous proposition, love…”
I shushed him with a glare. “And one I’m willing to make.”
A bright red blush crept up Aeron’s neck. “Well, agency’s pennies, so agency’s say.” He set his jaw, a vein popping out in his neck.
With an irritated tilt of my head, I retorted, “My life, my say.”
Aeron’s palms slapped the table so hard the papers rained down around us. His chair flung back. Spittle flew as he screamed, “And what if you fucking die?”
I found myself recoiled back, my hands defensively up in front of my face, my seat a full foot back from the table.
In that split second, Don had half-risen from his chair and had Aeron’s shirt front in his fist, poised to de-escalate the situation by force if necessary. Time seemed to stand still, nobody moving a muscle. “You done?” Don asked flatly.
/>
“Yeah.” With his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, Aeron pushed back from the table and paced the far end of the cabin, staying as far away from us as possible.
“The other matter we urgently need to discuss is the issue of how they’ve been following you.” Don fixed me with a strong look but kept Aeron in his line of sight. “You didn’t leave blood on the trail, but you’ve clearly left blood somewhere else in the past few days, something they’re using to hunt you. Can you think of anywhere you’ve been cut, if you’ve menstruated in the past week...”
“She’s got a cactus on ‘er desk she stuck ‘er finger wiv,” Aeron cut in from across the room before I could sputter in outrage. His voice was still barely calmer than a growl. “‘At’s the only end I’ve not managed to get ‘old of yet.”
“That’s probably how they’re doing it, then. Is this at work?” Don asked with a sideways glance in my direction.
“Yeah, it’s at work.” I stared at my little finger prick again. The redness had gone down some, so I’d totally forgotten to put some antibiotic ointment on it. They’re following me because I left blood on a cactus spine?
“You know better, Lyons.” Don rose from his chair, stretching his shoulders until one popped.
Aeron shook his head. “Stupid. So fucking stupid.”
“You have currency in that building, right? Someone you can send there instead of Celeste?” Don shook his head as he lowered himself into the seat again.
“Not that I trust, no.” Aeron thrust his chin in my direction. “Darrel.”
“To pick up a cactus?” Don crossed his arms, likely mulling over what word for “idiot” he was planning to use to describe Aeron.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust him to pick up a cactus, either. He’d probably trade it for a date, though, if you were pretty enough, Aeron.” I let out a nervous laugh, fiddling with the pen on the table. “Dude was so useless, he set me up with this guy to meet necromancers. What a loser.” I sent a wink in Aeron’s direction, willing both our heart rates to calm.
“Alright, get a room already.” Don started picking his gym bags of things up from the corner, adding over his shoulder, “Preferably at your place, Lyons. One point of egress and regress. But keep the campsite as if you might still come back here, Celeste, just to give them one more place to watch. I’ll keep a tail from far enough away it won’t attract attention.”
“Excuse me?” I couldn’t believe my ears.
Instead of responding to me, Don checked his watch, tapping the screen a couple times. “Your stunt earlier seems to have worked. Alena’s officially called off her hounds. I can keep the watchlings off your ass for a little while with some false scent trails around town.” From a backpack, he pulled a blood draw kit.
I eyed the needle, then Aeron, who was still glowering in the doorway like a gargoyle. Marching across the cabin’s dusty wood floor, I held out my arm to Don. “Whatever I can do to help. I mean it.”
Don gave me a nod, then tied off a rubber tourniquet around my bicep. “Take a seat.” He gestured to the chairs.
I leaned over to him as he slid the needle into the vein. “And one for Lana, if it will help her make things again,” I whispered. “Really, it’s nothing.”
To my surprise, Don leaned in, his voice a whisper. “You know, there’s no paycheck worth what you’ll have to deal with if you stay on this path.”
“I’m not doing it for the money,” I said, straightening. “I leave places better off than they were when I got there. Until I’ve done that, I’m not finished yet. And I’m very, very not finished with this server or these necros.” Even as I spoke, the list of what I’d need to do, who I needed to talk to, all of it became clearer in my mind. I could leave Wachenta behind, but I wouldn’t be satisfied if I did it now.
Don nodded, pulling a second vial from the kit. When both were full of blood, he put a cotton ball and bandage over the prick. “When you take that cotton off, you burn it. Got it?” He tucked a tube of antibiotic ointment into my hand. “Three times a day until the finger’s healed up. Tell me or Aeron if it opens up again, or any other cuts you get for that matter. Show me the one from earlier.”
I did, and he bandaged that tiny scrape as well, even though it’d scabbed over by now, then taped the sides of the bandage so nothing could escape.
I bent my elbow to keep pressure on the needle stick. As I followed Aeron’s silent march back to where we’d parked, I had the feeling I wouldn’t be sleeping nearly as well as I had before.
I wondered when I’d sleep well again. And where.
Chapter 16 – All Masked
I had a lot to think over as I swung by the office on my way back to Aeron’s, not the least of which was whether I should go back to Aeron’s at all. Just because I wasn’t done with my project or these necros didn’t mean I had to follow Don’s advice that I stay somewhere with only one entrance.
The familiar route to the parking garage’s roof gave me time to mentally check out of my surroundings and check into the roiling emotions and fresh memories I desperately needed to sort through. I’d rather do my thinking while watching a crackling campfire, but the drive would have to do.
From a work perspective, I was surprised at how much I’d garnered from these interviews, useful information to direct my customization phase. It was a matter of tailoring existing things the company used on other niche websites, but it could be done. A vision for it was on the verge of coalescing in my mind.
Oddly enough, it was Ethan’s interview that stuck in my brain now. Probably because it was the one I’d felt had gone the worst—somehow worse than the one with Alena, and that was saying something. Though they were opposites in many ways, Ethan’s frostiness reminded me of Aeron’s prickliness. A defensive shield against getting his hopes up, perhaps? Or maybe against being hurt?
Either way, approach was going to be key to making this server work. Too glib, and the necromancers would feel their very real, very serious needs and emotions were being ignored or worse—made fun of. Too serious, and necromancers like Hugo would be bored in moments. To serve as wide a swath of them at one time as possible, I had to make this website inviting, welcoming, safe, and cozy to thaw that icy defense.
“NecROMANCE: Find connection where you are. Nah, that’s not it.” I turned off the highway and headed toward the office. “NecROMANCE: Discover how connected you really are.” It felt right, somehow. We’d see if the tagline made it past marketing unscathed, but I loved the sentiment behind it. You have connections, now discover their depth.
As I pulled into the parking space, I remembered my promise to Marla. I keyed in the number to make the necessary phone call, and after a quick, immensely-awkward conversation, I checked that item off my to-do list. Now to face the billion others staring me down.
By the time I got back into the office proper, it was late enough most everyone had packed up for the day. Only those with looming deadlines or meetings that spanned time zones still hung around, most faces haggard and drawn thin, or masks painted on to let people think they were doing fine, just fine.
I liked the place better without the bustle and the pretense. It made me feel better about the six-foot radius everyone was keeping from me. Fewer eyes to widen as they watched me pass was always good.
“Ah, Celeste, wasn’t it? Hey, I have a quick calendar question, if you’re not terribly busy.”
I looked up from navigating the hallway to see my manager leaning toward me as she strode up the hall. Her grey pencil skirt and white button-up shirt made her look so put together. I had no doubt she used a quart of hairspray to get her fine bleach-blonde hair to stay in place this long. If she felt as tired as I did after a long day, she somehow managed to keep it hidden from me.
“Sure, what do you need, Ms. Lambert?” I pulled my notebook from my bag and opened it to a blank page.
“I have an out-of-town conference the week of our meeting. It’s making everything else get pushed to the already
-full sidelines. You know how it is.” Her professional smile melted as her gaze settled on the wrap around my arm for the first time. “Are you well?”
I scrambled for words, tugging my sleeve over the bandage. “Yeah, just a quick blood draw on break. Routine stuff.”
“That’s good—it’s thirty days before we can activate your corporate health insurance policy. And with what you’re doing, health insurance might’ve been a good idea.” She gave me a little laugh, tucking her hand under her chin.
I wasn’t laughing. In fact, I winced a little.
She changed her tone immediately, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Oh, honey, if this assignment is too much for you, please know you can always ask to be moved to another department. I’m sorry if my little joke hit too close to home.”
I shook my head. “It’s not that at all!” I brightened at the recollection. “Everyone I’ve talked to so far has given me wonderful feedback that’ll help me design the forums and tailor the match algorithms. I’ll have a ticket to put in to programming in a week or two.”
She seemed surprised to hear this, her hand dropping off my shoulder to pull her phone from her pocket. “Oh. Well, good, then.” Her smile reappeared. “In the meantime, could you go ahead and give me a couple reasons to pass to the board as to how this server will earn back its worth in cost?” Her fingertip hovered over her phone, a clear expectation in her eyes.
I felt like a monkey that’d just been told to dance. My mind was not about to dance. “Uhh... “ I swallowed hard, searching frantically for words. “You know? Let me email that to you tonight. I have a file with the cost prospectus nearly ready for you, and it will be a lot easier for you to just forward that on.”
Something like disappointment flitted over her expression. “Oh, that should be fine.”
“Great. Glad we got to have our little meeting after all.” I flashed a brave smile to cover my gut sinking like a stone into my shoes. A cost prospectus workup… tonight… yeah, not sleeping. If anything, this conversation had confirmed my suspicions that even my manager didn’t have a vested interest in this server being successful. If anything, she seemed to want it to fail.
