by M. K. Gibson
Boris then turned and walked over to the SUV and waved at the weretiger who leaned out of the passenger side. “Sup man, what’s going on?”
“Get in. We need to take a ride,” the weretiger growled.
“Look, if this has anything to do with my earnings, I haven’t skimmed at all, I’ve—”
“Get. In.”
“Sure sure,” Boris said, hopping into the back seat.
The moment he was in, the SUV took off, and Boris was grabbed around the throat by large, paw-like hands. The Leshy batted uselessly against the incredible strength of the weretiger’s hands.
“Boris, how are you this evening?” a calm, warm voice asked from within the modified backseat of the SUV.
The hand that had grabbed Boris relaxed a little. Turning his head, he saw his employer, the Laughing Man.
“Boss? W-what’s g-going on?”
“Earlier this evening, there was an incident with one of your clients,” the Laughing Man said. “He was high on Vitae that you had sold to him.”
“I didn’t skim, boss!”
“I know, Boris. In that you’ve always been a good employee. Yet I had laid out certain rules about selling my product. Do you recall them?”
“N-no kids . . . n-no unnecessary risks.”
“And?” the Laughing Man asked.
Boris paused, unsure. “To be fair, boss, you have a lot of rules.”
The Laughing Man sighed. “When selling to a god, it must be the diluted product. You failed.”
“Who?” Boris asked.
“The client known as Mr. Quick.”
“I-I didn’t know he was a god.”
“Boris,” the Laughing Man said. “That means you’re either stupid, or a liar. And considering I told you he was a god myself, that means you’re a liar and an excellent reason for me to end your employment.”
“B-boss, no! Okay, look, yeah, I knew he was a god. But I told him! I TOLD him what that stuff could do if he took too much. Please don’t kill me. I can help! I can—”
Boris’s head was suddenly shaken hard from left to right as the weretiger’s massive paw snapped the Fey’s neck. The Leshy fell forward, dead.
“No loose ends, Boris. No loose ends.”
“What about the hookers?” the weretiger asked as he readjusted himself in the driver’s seat. “They saw us roll up and grab Boris.”
“Very good point, Mr. Whiskers. Please drop me off first, then take care of this?”
“Of course, sir.”
Chapter One
12 May - 4:32 am
Boreas Bungalows, Building #9, Apt. 202, District of Windport
Jessie DeLeon’s phone began buzzing. She rolled over, cracked a sleep-deprived eye, and stared at the alarm.
It couldn’t be noon yet, she reasoned. It was still dark out, and Jessie swore her head had just hit the pillow. Yet the ringer kept going.
Ringer? Hell. It wasn’t the alarm. It was a call.
Jessie reached out and fumbled for her phone, forcing her half-awake hands to obey. She swiped to answer. “DeLeon.”
“Morning, Superstar,” her partner said.
“Damn it,” Jessie said, instinctively getting out of bed on hearing Tasha Freeman’s voice. Running on autopilot, she began pulling her digital-patterned, blue and gray Undead Task Force uniform from her closet where she’d hung it only a couple hours earlier.
“What time is it?” Jessie asked.
“0430.”
“Our shift’s been over since 0200.”
“We have a case.”
“Where’s Alvarez and Crenshaw?” Jessie asked.
“On another case. When the Eye spotted this one, the captain on duty assigned it to us. So pop a stim and let’s go. Up and at ’em, girl.”
“What’s the situation?” Jessie asked, cradling the phone with her shoulder as she wrestled with her tac-gear pants and boots.
“No morning sweet talk?”
“Freeman!” Jessie snapped as she dropped her phone on the bed after switching it to speaker and slipped on her sports bra and top. “Just spit it out already.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a prick?”
“Only the jealous,” Jessie said as she secured her tac-vest and affixed her silver micro-mesh neck guard.
Freeman sighed. “So, we’ve got a situation.”
“Let me guess, a blood bank dispute?” Jessie said as she pulled her hair up in a ponytail.
“You know it. Couple of minor suckers are begging for a fix before the sun comes up.”
“Pick me up in ten,” Jessie said, picking the phone up and switching off the speaker. “I need coffee.”
“I’m already outside and I have a cup waiting on you.”
“You know, Freeman,” Jessie said, “when I take over the world, you will be spared for this act of kindness.”
“Just get out here. We’ve got work to do.”
“Roger,” Jessie said, then ended the call with a swipe of her thumb.
Before leaving her apartment, she checked her weapons. Helsing .45 side arm with silver-core rounds dipped in holy water, check. Twelve-gauge, pump-action with Fey-made sunburst buckshot, check.
Jessie grabbed her keys and phone, stuffed them into one of the pouches on her tac belt, slipped on her helmet, and made her way into the hallway and down the stairs of her apartment building into the bleary, early morning fog of Avalantis, Alaska.
Thanks to the Fey and their magical tie to nature, Alaska’s unpopulated interior had been climate-controlled to support both the myths and regular folk. But myth or mundane, people were still people. Most were good and kind. Some were cruel and self-serving. And every species has assholes.
And criminals.
“You coming or what?” Freeman yelled from the rolled-down passenger side window of the Avalantis PD cruiser. The middle-aged black woman waved her hand in a “hurry-up” motion. “If you step it up, I’m drinking this coffee myself.”
As Jessie walked towards the car, a huge brown and white plop of excrement fell from the sky in front of her. She jumped back, but was unable to avoid some of the splattered crap that now stained her perfect uniform and the sidewalk.
“What the hell?!” Jessie said as she looked skyward to see the shadow of a passing pegasus. The gray and white creature laughed and whinnied as it flew by.
“Stop!” Jessie yelled at the pegasus.
“Suck my horse dick!” the pegasus called back as it flew away.
Jessie tapped her helmet’s augmented reality visor and looked up into the sky. The device penetrated the darkness and scanned the beast. Jessie read the overlay of the creature’s record: Name - Mr. Sparklewing. Three outstanding warrants for unlawful dumping, nine counts of urinating in public—three of which were on an elementary school, convicted of seven counts of public intoxication, and considered a creature of interest in several still-open high-rise burglaries.
“Hey Freeman, call in to Beast Control and call out an APB on Mr. Sparklewing while I go change my uniform.”
“Roger the APB, negative on freshening up. Just got a call that the suckers at the bank are getting violent. We have to go now.”
“But I’m covered in horse . . . shit.”
“It’s barely a splatter. I hear it’s good luck.”
Jessie waved her arms in frustration. “That’s something they made up as an excuse for crapping from the sky! You should see what happened to my car the other day. I had to take it down to a dwarven body shop in Agartha to get the dent out of the hood.”
“I have some cleaning wipes in the car. Let’s go!”
Jessie sighed. Freeman was right; there was no time to change. She resigned herself to being disgusting.
“And I’ll tell you another thing!” an angry, high-pitched male voice said over the cruiser’s sound system, “This prison that they call a ‘city’ is nothing more than a form of control! Modern-day slavery. We once ruled this planet and I think it’s time we take it back. That�
��s the reason I was kicked out of—”
“What are you listening to?” Jessie asked as she got into the cruiser.
“The ‘What the Puck’ podcast. You know, that outcast elf that spouts conspiracy stuff, but also has all the branded products around the city?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of him,” Jessie said.
Freeman turned off the radio, then passed Jessie a stim pack, a coffee, and a tube of wipes.
“Thanks,” Jessie said, graciously accepting all of them.
“At least it was pegasus crap,” Freeman said as she pulled the cruiser away from Jessie’s apartment complex and into traffic. “I mean, it’s still shit, but at least there’s a hint of butterscotch. When it’s a hippogriff crapping on your car, it’s just nasty.”
“Yay, lucky me,” Jessie said, holding the stim pack under her nose. “Summer autumn blend? Too cheap to buy the winter spring?”
“All I have,” Freeman said.
“Fair enough,” Jessie said, snapping the small wooden tube in half.
Cracking the stim through the engraving of an oak leaf and a sun, Jessie inhaled the released vapors. She felt every ounce of sleep deprivation vanish within seconds, and her body felt as if it had a full night’s rest.
“Damn, how is this not illegal?” Jessie asked with a shake of her head.
Freeman shrugged. “Elves, man. I hear they greased the right palms at the FDA.”
“I guess there are worse things out there than people feeling refreshed and alert.”
She took a quick sip of her coffee and made a sour face. “This tastes like hell.”
“It tastes like free,” Freeman said. “But yes, it is nasty. The convenience store down the way was the only place open.”
“Well, thanks,” Jessie said, taking another sip, then used Freeman’s wipes to clean the legs of her uniform as best she could. Once she was sufficiently presentable, she threw the wipes into the cruiser’s disposal chute under the glove box. The internal disposal unit recycled the material for later use.
“Okay, where we headed?” Jessie asked as she pulled up the passenger side navigation terminal. “I’m not seeing a location in the system. Thought you said the Eye called it?”
“I came to get you first before logging the destination,” Freeman said. “Run a search. The Bee Positive blood bank off of Crowley Avenue over in Hag’s Hollow.”
“Got it,” Jessie said, looking over the holo-display and reading up on the area. “Dios. That’s a rough neighborhood, even for Hag’s Hollow.”
“Nothing we’re not used to,” Freeman said with a shrug.
Jessie nodded. “Yeah. Okay, I have the coordinates and I’m putting them into the nav system. You ready?”
“Just about,” Freeman said as she steered the cruiser from the streets of Windport onto the trans-city highway. Huge trees flanked the highway entrance. High above, the massive canopy of interlaced branches and foliage created a tapestry of natural colors. Because the sun was still down, the trees, like all the trees in the greater boroughs of Avalantis, glowed with a beautiful bioluminescence.
“Okay, ready,” Freeman said as the cruiser approached the large semicircular portal at the junction point. In the distance, the junction portal looked like reflective water with vehicles driving in and out.
Freeman touched the purple crystal in the center of the dashboard which began to hum with power. Driving into the silvery portal, the cruiser, along with its occupants, were magically dissolved and sucked into the nexus of ley-line power.
********
12 May - 4:47 am
District of Hag’s Hollow
“Mm,” Jessie grunted as the cruiser materialized.
“No kidding,” Freeman agreed. “Twenty-two years on the job, and it still gets to me.”
“That long?” Jessie asked.
She knew Tasha Freeman had been with the APD for a long time, but Jessie hadn’t realized exactly how long. They’d only been partners for a couple of weeks now, and small talk hadn’t really been her top priority. Plus, being a cop for that long and still working on the Undead Task Force was not something to be proud of.
“Yeah, that long,” Freeman said. “Why? Don’t I look my age?”
“It’s not that,” Jessie said as the cruiser made its way down the street. The area was more akin to a dark enchanted forest than an actual city street.
“Oh, you’re wondering why I’m still on the UTF?”
“No,” Jessie lied reflexively.
“It’s okay,” Freeman said. “I’m not ashamed of my career. We’re not all superstars like you.”
Jessie pursed her lips. It was true. Three years as an active officer, and she’d already blazed a trail that made her someone for the superiors to notice. But it also put a target on her back. Cops talk. Called her “Superstar,” but not in a good way. Screw ’em. She busted her ass. Let the lesser officers be jealous.
“I read your file when you were assigned as my partner,” Freeman said. “You spent what, eight months on the Zombie Squad?”
“Six,” Jessie corrected.
“Exactly,” Freeman said. “After their probationary year to acclimate to the supernatural, most cops spend a full year on the squad to toughen them up and to get them past their fears.”
“Come on,” Jessie said. “Anyone with an ounce of drive and an IQ past their shoe size can get promoted off the squad early. And then there’s folks who spend their whole career there.”
“So?”
“So maybe I wanted to spend as little time as possible with all the community college dropouts,” Jessie said as she sipped her coffee. “But hey, if they want to spend their days cracking the skulls of mindless monsters, more power to them. But I want more out of my career.”
“I spent fourteen months on the squad,” Freeman said. “And my husband’s been on the squad for the last nine years.”
Jessie looked out the window to avoid eye contact. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk.”
“Probably for the best,” Freeman agreed.
The pair continued driving through the rougher parts of Hag’s Hollow. By random trees were abandoned cauldrons decorated with toadstools and remnants of broomsticks, signs of respect for the witches and darker fey creatures who’d died in the neighborhood.
“You see, DeLeon,” Freeman said, breaking the silence, “you’re an asshole.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. When you were assigned to this precinct, no one wanted to work with you. You know why?”
“No, but I expect you’re going to tell me.”
“Because you’re a climber. You don’t spend enough time in a position learning the job. You’d rather kiss ass and do exactly what you need to move up. I’ve seen plenty of your kind come through in my time.”
Jessie sighed. “I’ve paid my dues.”
“Mm-hmm.” Freeman smirked as she turned a corner and headed down the street. “Heard you applied for an assignment with Shifter Unit?”
Jessie said nothing.
“But without proper field experience, your application was rejected, wasn’t it? You wanna tackle were-creatures and shapechangers? You need at least a solid stint policing the undead. Usually five years.”
“I’ll do it in four,” Jessie said.
“But the question is, why go that route? Pretty little Latina girl like you could work with the Fey Brigade. So why do you wanna throw down with the ’thropes?”
Jessie crossed her arms. “Shifter Unit is the fastest way to move up.”
“That’s what I thought,” Freeman said. “A climber.”
“Then why work with me?” Jessie asked.
“First, I didn’t have a choice; you were assigned to me. But second, I wanted to get to know you. Believe it or not, I was like you once. Way back. Had my eye on adventure. Make a name for myself. You’re what, twenty-six?”
“Twenty-five,” Jessie corrected.
Freeman nodded. “So you were a kid when all the mythical
creatures came out to the world, and still too young to really remember when Avalantis was established. But I remember when the city officially opened. I signed up to be a member of the APD as soon as I could and never looked back. Look out that window. What do you see?”
“Some goblin thieves? A couple of redcaps leaving a probable murder site?” Jessie said, then pointed down a dark alleyway. “Oh, and I’m pretty sure that’s a toothless pixie fellating an ogre for drugs. Huh, does she have a big mouth or does he have a small dick?”
“Point it, that’s the city that people like me helped build.”
“Was blowjob-pixie your contribution?” Jessie asked.
“There are good parts and bad,” Freeman said, ignoring the comment. “We built this place to keep the rest of the world safe. You, Ms. DeLeon, are standing on the backs of people like me. Each political move you make is like a slap in the face. And with your attitude, it’s only a matter of time before someone comes along and ensures you have a ‘training accident’.”
Jessie crossed her arms. “I’ve heard this speech before.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You don’t think I’m special because I’m motivated and refuse to sit stagnant. That’s fine. But some of you old-timers—well, there’s nothing special about you either. My partners in Beast Control and Ghost Patrol said the same thing to me. And guess what? They’re still in the same position where I left them. Just like you’ll be when I move on.”
Freeman shook her head. “Man, I hope I didn’t sound as arrogant or as stupid as you when I was younger.”
“Whatever.”
Chapter Two
12 May - 4:54 am
Bee Positive Blood Bank, District of Hag’s Hollow
“We’re here, Superstar,” Freeman said as she pulled the cruiser into the blood bank’s parking lot. “You ready to get your game face on, or are you too busy planning your next promotion?”
“I know my job,” Jessie said with a shake of her head. Despite the stim, she was starting to feel a little groggy. The lack of sleep was catching up to her.
Stepping out, she assessed the situation. The blood bank resembled a convenience store with its light blue angled roof, brick construction, signs on the window advertising deals, and exterior lighting. But the interior lights were off, as was the neon sign of the cartoon bee holding a blood bag.
