Chapter 26
An hour later, I sat alone in a small, white room. It was the kind seen in every crime show. White walls. Gray door. Large mirrored window. The only furniture was the table and two chairs. Maybe this was a bit forward of me, but I decided this place was my new home. As I sat with my head on the desk – my roof – I tried to focus on the positive.
I was alive. That’s always good. A bit worse for wear, and as dirty and battered as a flat tire. The bad guy was taken care of. That’s also good. Soon, I’d be relocated to a small cell, where I wouldn’t have to watch my back any longer. Win–win.
I let my eyes close, wondering what the policemen on the other side of the one-way mirror thought of my lazy demeanor. I wouldn’t know for sure, but I suspected that most people they dragged in here didn’t try to fall asleep, least of all while wearing nothing but a robe and a couple pounds of sweaty ash. At the moment, my biggest concern was keeping my weight on the good cheek to minimize the pain.
A year ago, I was in a similar room, after the warehouse incident. As I drifted along the line of exhaustion, I decided I’d do now what I’d done then and refuse to speak without a lawyer.
You’re a bit beyond lawyers, Thomas. Even if you do get out, what then? No home? Few friends?
Lara might take me in, if she’d ever forgive me for leaving her at Wal-Mart. If not, I’d maybe have to go back to live with Lucian, my mentor, except that he hasn’t spoken to me since I’d been kicked out of the Guardians.
There’s always jail, I thought with a chuckle.
I absently rubbed my hand through my hair, sickened at the thought. Ash fell out of my hair onto the table with the motion.
Some time later – minutes, probably, though it could have been hours for the way my mind was working, the door opened. With my head resting in the crook of my elbow, all I could see was a pair of penny-loafers walk pretentiously inside.
The man, who’d violated my new living room, didn’t seem disturbed as he sat in the chair. He just put some papers down on the table, and read them over slowly. A minute or so later, I wiped my hand over my face. It came off black again from round three with fire. Then, slowly, carefully, I sat up.
The man wore a gravel gray suit and a pair of reading glasses. His skin was very dark, and he put on the act of ignoring me as he read my file. It quite obviously was my file. It sported a large, colored mug shot of me, taken last year when they tried to book me for the destruction of Lance’s warehouse.
“Sorry. Did I miss anything?” I asked.
No response. His thick, black hair and purposeful posture gave him the look of a valedictorian rather than a police officer. He turned a page.
I leaned back, closing my eyes and stretching against the back of the chair. “I’ll entertain you with small talk, officer, but if you want to talk about what happened, I want to see a lawyer.”
“Agent,” he corrected, not looking up from the files.
He flipped the cover of my file shut, cleaned his glasses, and put them into a small case, which he then slipped into the inside pocket of his suit. Then, shifting his brown eyes up to me, he said, “You’ve had a busy couple of days. Haven’t you, Mr. Amberose.”
“Call me Thomas.” I considered offering my hand, but that would be polite. I didn’t have anything against manners, but was in no mood to use them.
“Agent Garrison. FBI.” The man looked to be in his mid-thirties, and my eyes caught the glint of a golden wedding ring. “The fire was put out, by the way. It didn’t kill anyone.”
“Thanks to me,” I said.
“Thanks to you, Mr. Amberose,” he said without emoting. “What brought you to the Divination tonight?”
I shrugged as passively as I could.
“You have an interesting record, Mr. Amberose. I’ve been looking through your file, but it’s largely incomplete. Years of your life seem to be just... missing.”
I couldn’t resist. “Where’d they go?”
Agent Garrison didn’t smile. But then, he didn’t frown, either.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you have a tendency to turn up whenever there’s trouble. There was an incident with a warehouse last year. Your own house recently caught fire in a suspected case of arson. Hours later, there was a brawl on the street, and a reported gunshot. Then there’s that house in the suburbs owned by a Brianna Porter, which also caught fire. That one made the news. You were seen fleeing the scene. And now you’re right in the middle of a fire at the Divination.”
“It’s hard to think, sir. Maybe a lawyer would jog my memory.”
“The Divination is the second establishment owned by Mr. Lance Ruben that’s suffered damage during one of your visits.” He leaned forward. The creaking chair was echoic in the otherwise dead silence. “Look, Thomas. I’ll be straight with you. I honestly don’t know what you’re involved in. You have a splotchy record, but nothing outwardly criminal. Mr. Ruben, however – we’ve been looking into him for a long time. You’re guilty of a lot of things. Fleeing multiple crime scenes. Three cases of Arson. Breaking and entering a secure building. Assault. Two charges of attempted murder in the first degree. You fight me, and you’ll be put away for a long time. Lucky for you, my main focus is elsewhere.”
“Lance...” I said, understanding.
“Lance,” he confirmed.
“You know, sir, that sounds a bit like blackmail.”
Not a smile. Not a twitch. Hell, since I first looked at the guy he hadn’t even blinked. It was a wonder his mouth moved when he talked. “Think of it as a favor, Mr. Amberose. Help me, and I’ll help you.”
I looked back at him, attempting to keep my face just as stoic as his. As I considered my next words, I flung the thought of incriminating Lance aside before it even came.
Lance scares me. Mage or no, he’s a powerful man with unknown connections. There has been more than one account a member of the Imperium simply disappearing when they do something bad to the Venir. I didn’t want to be the next vanishing act.
At that moment, the door opened and a young woman burst inside. Tall and thin, she wore a suit-jacket and a professional gray skirt that stopped just above her knees. She was Asian, with hair tied tightly into a bun against the back of her head. She didn’t even look at me when she entered boldly. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Ma’am, you’re not supposed to be in here.”
“You have no right to hold an interrogation without the presence of his lawyer. I will be filling that spot, Agent Garrison. Furthermore, this session is done.”
“This man is not going anywhere,” Agent Garrison said.
“Is this an interrogation, Agent?” My lawyer asked. “If it is, then he had better be under arrest.”
“He was at a crime scene. He’s suspected of arson, assault and attempted mur–”
“He was a victim of the arson, not the suspect. Also, do not mistake speculation for fact. There is no proof that Mr. Amberose was indeed the one running away from Ms. Porter’s house, other than the fact that the man fleeing that scene was a male. He may have committed the crime of trespassing on Cane Industries property, but Cane Industries has made it explicitly clear that we do not wish to press charges against him. And as for the murders, it’s obvious he had nothing to do with them. He was being coerced by Paul Ingram. Lance even backed up the story, and if that’s not enough, there is evidence of Mr. Ingram’s presence on the Divination’s camera. And as for Paul Ingram. Well, unless you are suggesting that Mr. Amberose has the unique ability to throw people across a room, without actually making physical contact than it is obvious that he had nothing to do with that so-called attempted murder. I ask you again, Agent. Is Mr. Amberose under arrest?”
Agent Garrison exhaled loudly – finally, proof he was human. “No.”
“Than you have no reason to keep him here. Come with me, Mr. Amberose. We are leaving.”
I made a mental note not to piss this woman off as I grinned at Agent Garrison. Upon
leaving the room, I spotted my staff on a shelf and took it as I followed her out of the room. The way she ushered me out, I half expected her to take my hand and yank me along like a domineering mother would a child. We strode out the front lobby, and I adjusted my untidy robe as I walked, throwing soot off it in the motion.
My eyes widened in shock upon seeing my ride – a stretch limousine. It was black with a sunroof, tinted windows, and hopefully a full bar. A few lights between the windows glowed dimly against the starry backdrop. The engine was already running, hardly audible over the chirping frogs in the nearby pond. She opened the door for me, and the first thing I noticed, aside from the full bar, was a pair of Jeans and a polo shirt. There was underwear, even, still in the package.
A good philosophy to live by is that if sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Kind of like those emails saying you’ve got some great, great, uncle five times removed who died and left you a fortune. Another good rule I often follow is one that is most often taught by mommies – don’t get into a car with a stranger. I tried to form these doubts into words, but all that escaped from my lips was a dumbfounded, “Ahh.”
“You have no need to worry, Mr. Amberose. All of this, and me, are courtesy of Cane Industries.” She smiled pleasantly, leaving me in wonder.
“Err–”
“I understand, Mr. Amberose, that you and Mr. Cane recently had what he referred to as a ‘tussle,’” she spoke quickly, with a lightly British accent. “Mr. Cane has given me explicit instructions to inform you that he holds no grudge. He only wishes to make up for any unpleasantries. He would like to speak with you, and he apologizes for ever suspected you of wronging him.”
My jumble of objections solidified and intensified as I stood there with this woman, but finally my mind eased enough for me to form a coherent thought. “Err, okay.”
“Great,” she motioned her hand inside the door. I shouldn’t have been surprised when she followed me inside, but for some reason I was. She sat staring at me from the back seat while I collapsed into the one along the front.
“Oh,” she said, her eyes brightening as though just remembering something. Holding out a slender, hand, she said, “A pleasure to meet you. My name is Ayaka Souma.”
I shook her hand, glad for the first time of the day that there was probably enough soot on my face to hide the adolescent blush that I felt. I ignored the way her skirt slipped up slightly as she crossed her bare legs, instead focusing on her slim, angular face. She must have been right out of law school.
My face reddened again as I glanced down at the clothes laid out for me. “I, err...”
“You want privacy, I suppose. With a practiced smile, she folded her hands in her lap. Then, she rested her head on the seat and closed her eyes. “I won’t peek.”
I hesitated a second as my mind went into a dull daze. I noted, with groggy intelligence, that she was a rather beautiful woman.
I shook my head and started with the boxers, sliding them up and under the robe. Then I did the same with the pants – I didn’t bother trying to keep them, or the limo, clean. It would be a futile struggle, so I just threw the disgusting robe onto the floor. Mr. Cane – Daniel or Cameron, I didn’t know which, was thoughtful enough to get me a black polo. When I was done, Ayaka offered me a drink, but I didn’t take it. A depressant was the last thing I needed. Instead, I spent the rest of the trip sitting with my weight on my undamaged side, which was growing slightly numb by now. “So what does Mr. Cane want to see me about?”
“He will answer all your questions when you see him. Is there anything I can do for you? You appear rather beaten about, and the cops were clearly not helpful. I am trained in basic first aid. If you have any–”
“–I’ll be fine.” The words blurted out a smidgeon too quickly. It took all the mental fortitude I had to suppress the urge to take off my shirt and play a game of ‘check out these battle-scars.’
However, the sleep took over again a minute or so into the ride. For being unconscious for several hours, I certainly was worn down. Keeping my weight on one side is hard when you’re about to fall asleep. As we rode, I went between moments of near-sleep to intense pain as I relaxed onto my scab, until the familiar shape of the Cane Industries Headquarters loomed up alongside the car.
As I got out of the car, Ayaka slid her soft fingers against my elbow. “This way, Mr. Amberose.” I followed, limping along since the new shoes hurt my throbbing feet.
We walked inside, and I hardly paid attention as we walked past the security station.
“Hold up. That’s the guy?”
I looked up to see the same college-student night-guard I spoke to earlier, clearly surprised and outraged at the sight of me. There I was, full of ash, and in the few hours since I’d met him, I managed to get even more battered and war-torn.
I couldn’t help myself. Upon seeing him, I let out the biggest grin I could manage, and waved like the madman I’d become.
This time, Ayaka blushed, clearly embarrassed to be seen with me. She quickened her pace as they let us pass. When we stepped into the elevator, I wiped my face clean as we arose. Turning toward the glass, I adjusted my hair in the reflection. I did have my other eyebrow, by the way.
If I were about to talk to Cameron, or even Daniel, I at least wanted to seem presentable. If nothing else, a paycheck relied on what came next, which would be desperately needed in the absence of a house.
The elevator stopped, so I let her lead me out. We didn’t have far to go. It was the same place I’d seen Cameron last time, in the octagonal lounge in the center of the uppermost floor.
I felt a horrid pang of guilt upon stepping over a few drops of blood on the gray carpet. However, she didn’t make any mention of it. I’d almost expected us to stop right there, but instead, she turned down the left hallway and urged me onward. We walked all the way to the end of the hall, where she stopped just outside the last, unmarked door.
“Mr. Cane is waiting inside. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Amberose. I’m sure we’ll speak again.” I shook her hand again. Was it my imagination, or did her fingers linger against my wrist for an extra second?
Wake up and smell the ashes, Thomas. You’re a mess. I shook my head awake as she walked away. Then, I turned and walked inside.
The office was empty of furniture, save for a desk facing the left wall. I call it a wall, but it was actually just one, giant window, overlooking the rest of Minneapolis. A few blocks away, there was the IDS tower – the second highest building in the city. Its highest point was several feet lower than my feet. With a view like this, I realized that it must be good to be the king of Cane Industries.
Cameron Cane waited with a magazine in his lap. He lounged on the leather chair with his feet on the desk. They were clad in shiny, new shoes. He looked up brightly as I stood there and spun in the chair. “Thomas! Come on in”
“Hey,” I said innocently, scratching my head and coming away with dark fingertips. A sudden pang of guilt expanded in my stomach as I realized I still held my staff at my side. “Sorry about before.”
“I like to think of it as a display of talent. Not many have ever seen a full-fledged mage in action.”
“Full-fledged?” I said stepping inside. I hardly thought of myself as fully trained. Sure, I’d blown up a building or two in my time, but compared to some of the other guys out there, I was nothing. Each and every one of the higher ranked Guardians could take me on with bound hands and no foci. Not that Cameron needed to hear that.
I leaned my staff against the wall and put my hands in my pocket.
“She got you out of jail, I see. Any problems getting here?”
“No, no. Everything’s good.”
He smiled lightly at me, standing up. “I’d wanted to thank you personally for everything you’ve done. I know you’ve lost a lot in the past few days, and would like to make it up to you.”
“Make it up to me?” I felt trapped. Sure, I’d lost a lot. On the other
hand, I’d attacked him, damaged one of his cars, and in general was not very forthcoming most of the time.
“I went directly to see Brianna Porter, who confirmed your story. She’s fine, by the way. Broken leg, broken wrist, and a couple-dozen stitches, but nothing life-threatening.” A weight fell off my chest that I hadn’t even realized had been there. Bree’s all right! I hadn’t killed her after all. “Here, have a seat. I’d like to hear what happened from you, if you don’t mind.”
I didn’t mind. But considering my situation, I preferred standing. Plus, I didn’t want to fall asleep mid-sentence. I told him that. Then, I began my story, start to finish. I told him everything that happened, editing the story only slightly to keep the fully magical details quiet. I was on good standing with the Imperium again, and didn’t want to ruin it. How did I know I was on good standing? Because they hadn’t sent a hit squad after me.
The story started when he hired me, and then went to Lance Ruben’s threats. From there, I explained my encounter with Bree – my break-in to James’s cabin. Everything. I skipped out on that small segment in Bree’s burning house where he’d come to me in a vision after my life flashed before my eyes. Cameron hadn’t interrupted me, except to offer me water about halfway through – around the part where I was stuck in a fire. When I finished with Ayaka’s daring rescue from the interrogation room, Cameron Cane was sitting on the edge of the seat, fingertips together.
“I’ve hired a few people of my own to look into the mess. Paul Ingram is in custody, but I don’t think anything will stick. There are eyewitnesses who saw you throw him across the room. They think it was some sort of explosion. As for the other guy, Lance Ruben – there are witnesses who saw you rescue him. The cameras didn’t catch anything once the smoke hit. Also, there is the bullet’s random ricochet on video. The fight itself was out of view, mostly. Lance is not pressing charges, by the way – a way of thanks for saving his life, I expect.”
That made sense. If that was the worst I had to worry about, I was probably in the clear. My latest mentor had a lot of pull in the Imperium. If it were entirely up to the judges, I’d be gone already, but I’m sure Lucian Mercer would find some way to save me. Even if we weren’t talking, he was the next best thing to a father, and he wouldn’t abandon me. Assuming the Imperium worked in their usual ways, every copy of that film would be modified. Likely, the gun would jam on camera, or be loaded up with blanks. Or, knowing them, they’d make me into a clown who missed entirely, probably with some cockeyed, drugged up grin on my face.
“There’s another thing I think you should know about,” Cameron said.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Back at the manor when this all started, you told me to look for any records of conversations shared between Emmitt Cane and Lance Ruben, and think I found what you were after.”
“Oh?”
“Apparently, my uncle has magic in his bloodline. James Freidman was able to develop it, as well.”
“Oh?” That was another part of the story I edited – in my version, I claimed James stumbled onto an ancient ritual. I didn’t think Cam bought it, but he didn’t question it. The ‘your bloodline is special’ scam works perfectly on strangers, but Emmitt and Cameron are related. I hoped this wouldn’t lead to future complications.
“I found a written contract locked inside his safe with a video. It wasn’t easy to break open, but I managed.”
Cameron handed me an old fashioned scroll signed in blood – mages often use clichés such as these to make things seem more authentic. I read it over quickly as Cameron went on. “Apparently, Emmitt and Lance swore some kind of oath, magically enforced by James Freidman. Lance offered Cane Industries a few scientists, at the cost of being his magical body double.”
I cocked an eyebrow at that. “Magical body double?”
“Yeah. Know anything about it?”
“I do. That’s dangerous magic. If I had to guess, I’d say that James Freidman whipped up some kind of magical contract that bound the two of them together. Hmm... This here states that any harmful spell meant to do harm to Lance would instead be drawn to Emmitt Cane. So Emmitt wasn’t the target after all.”
“Can that work?”
I looked at him, pushing away that lake of drowsiness as I considered offering him an impromptu lesson in basic magic. This explanation was marginally illegal, but I couldn’t leave a man as rich and powerful as Cameron Cane without a defense. “If you make an oath with a mage, whether that be verbal or written, you’re bound to it. With an oath, there are conditions and consequences. If the conditions are broken, the consequences come to bite you in the ass.”
He nodded.
“An oath like this is the most dangerous kind. Essentially, Emmitt agreed to take a bullet. He probably signed it thinking it was just a stupid piece of paper. He gets three genius scientists out of it at no cost. That is, until he finds out magic is real, but by then it was too late.” I bit my lip and made my decision to take another chance. “Look, there are two things you need to know about magic. One – don’t agree to any oath. Ever. Two – magic cannot affect you directly as long as you don’t let it.”
“With the exception of an oath.”
I hissed air between my teeth. “Kind of. That falls into the, ‘unless you let it’ category. If the conditions of an oath let it, you’re screwed. The wrong oath can forever poke a hole in your magical defenses and render you helpless. Emmitt Cane was completely defenseless against the ghost because he made that oath. The ghost was summoned to kill Lance Ruben, but that oath redirected it to kill Emmitt, instead. Even if Emmitt didn’t believe in magic, he agreed to let it kill him, so the oath was binding.” I shook my head in awe at a stupid realization. “Funny thing about it? When Emmitt Cane made the oath, he didn’t believe it would work. This technically meant it shouldn’t have been binding. Or rather, it wouldn’t have been had Emmitt known that it wasn’t. If someone had told him he wasn’t bound to it, he’d be alive today.”
“So, if you were to, say, throw one of those force blasts at him.”
“It wouldn’t necessarily work for a spell like that. A spell like that is often fired like a gun – you aim and shoot in a direction. But if you’re using a spell on an actual person as a target, than it’ll work perfectly. The ghost targeted Lance. Actually, in a sense, I used the same spell as the one in this oath at the banquet. When the ghost went after Daniel, I threw myself out there as bait. Different type of execution, maybe, but to the same effect – I changed the target of the spell to myself.”
Cameron stood up and flicked his curly bangs out of his face with a casual whip of his head. “I guess that leads me to one more question. Why would Ingram want Lance Ruben dead?”
I sighed and gave a massive shrug. “I’ll make a few calls, but frankly? I don’t know, and I doubt anyone will tell me.”
“Okay,” Cameron said. “But if you had to guess, what would you say?”
“Honestly,” I said, a darkness fluttering through my thoughts. “My people don’t like Lance Ruben. Don’t quote this as fact, but I think it’s because Lance-” I paused to think out my words. “Lance is a powerful guy.”
I cringed inside as I yearned to tell him the secret of his origin, but it was one of the Imperium’s most well guarded. The only reason I even knew was because I’d been in the area of his arrival. Lance fled from a war in his own universe, and ended up here. A war that, according to Lance, he couldn’t possibly win. Rather than sink with the ship, he and his men opened a portal to a random destination. Here. “My guess is that the mages wanted Lance dead, and they suckered Paul Ingram into being their un-official hit man. I’d bet you just about anything that Ingram won’t live through the week.”
“But won’t Lance see right through it?” Cameron asked. “Possibly retaliate?”
“Maybe,” I said. “But no one wants a confrontation, so things will just go back to normal. For a while, at least.” I trailed off, not wanting to talk about Lance. Ca
ll it paranoid, but I found myself suddenly worried that he may be listening. “So, are the guards I attacked alright?”
“One had a minor concussion, but he’ll be okay.” Cameron said. “The other has a damaged ego.”
I drooped my shoulders. “Sorry. And Daniel?”
For once, Cameron gave a full, wide smile, revealing his perfect, shining teeth. “About that.” It faded the next moment. “The action was too much for him. He’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“Living it up on his new island home.”
“So what? You’re the new CEO?” I said, half jokingly.
“Nah,” he said, grinning. “For now, I’m just the Interim CEO. Was all along, actually. Emmitt’s saw to that in his will, and the board agreed.”
“Thus, the giant office on the top floor,” I smirked.
“This closet? Nah, this is your office. I’ve got the bigger one down the hall.”
I felt like a cartoon character who’d just seen something unbelievable enough to drop his jaw to the floor. “Huh?”
“Yeah, there’s a connecting bedroom to the side. It’s tiny, but some of my employees prefer to simply sleep here during the busier times of year. If you’re interested, you’ve got a position as my CMO.”
“C...M...O?”
“If you don’t like the city life, I’m sure better living arrangements can be made. The job comes with a six-figure salary. Flexible hours, and all you have to do is be my consultant and bodyguard for supernatural matters.”
I shook my head. It was too late to think about this. My mouth formed the three letters, over and over.
“The M stands for Magical,” he said.
“Chief Magical Officer,” I tried to sound skeptical, but laughed at the absurdity of it.
“It’s a dangerous world out there. If you had been working for Emmitt, he’d still be alive right now. Plus, I’ve seen you in action. You know your stuff.” He watched me with a muted smirk on his face. “I don’t need an answer now, and of course we need to do a background check and drug test. You know – legal mumbo jumbo.”
“I, err...”
He took five steps across this so-called closet and slapped me on the back as he made for the doorway. “Take your time. Think about it, Thomas. And feel free to spend the night. There’s a set of keys on the desk. One’s for this room, one’s for a company car. Another is for the elevator. I’ve had some clean clothes put in the dresser. If you decide you don’t want the job, no hard feelings, though I’m sure I’ll request your services as a PI again. For this case, I’ll pay you what we agreed, plus a couple of zeroes on the end of the bill. Oh, and Ayaka is down the hall if you need anything.” He gave me a sly smirk. Then, his with his face snapping back to seriousness he added, “You look like crap, Thomas. Get some rest,” and walked out.
Modern Pantheon: Ghost Page 25
