by Rowan Casey
Over it all, the sounds of fighting filled the interior of the club.
Grimm’s voice rang out above it all. “The battles were well fought, on both sides, but in the end we triumphed for one simple reason; there were more of us than there were of them.”
Silence descended like a blanket upon the crowd and Jessie felt the tension in the room rise even as the sound went down. The audience knew there was more to come, it seemed.
“Their leader, a powerful mage in his own right, knew that wouldn’t be the end of things. The Nine Races would try again to enter our world, unless he and his allies did something to prevent them from doing so. He brought the knights together to construct the Veil in the aftermath of their victory, an arcane barrier that sealed our realm away from the others, some hoped permanently.”
The smoke faded, revealing a shimmering web of energy that stretched from one side of the stage to the other, like the door to some giant cell made of arcane power rather than steel.
“The last of the invaders hiding in our realm were hunted down and slaughtered by the knights in the months that followed. In time, such creatures became nothing more than myths and legends, stories by which to frighten our children when their behavior got out of hand. Behave or the boogeyman will get you.”
Grimm snapped his fingers and the wall of energy behind him vanished in the blink of an eye.
“The war was over, but the threat was not. The Nine races were still out there, somewhere, and wouldn’t hesitate to return should the Veil ever fall. So the knights pledged themselves to the cause, vowing that they would return when the time was right, when the world needed them again.”
Jessie sensed someone behind her and she spun about in her chair, only to find the bearded warrior she’d noted earlier standing at the back entrance to her box. Their gazes met and he looked like he was about to say something, but then Jessie blinked and he was gone again as quickly as he’d appeared.
She wondered if he’d ever been there at all.
On the stage below, Grimm was thanking the crowd and telling them that he was going to take a five-minute break and then be back with the rest of the show.
Jessie shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Too many things were churning about inside. Reality and illusion were starting to blend together, confusing her. She’d spent months working to reach a place of equilibrium from which she could live her life. Okay, so it hadn’t really been a life, she was honest enough with herself to admit that, but at least it had been a means of getting by. Now all of that was being threatened. The hallucinations were growing more common, the inherent threats contained within them more dangerous. And today…shit, she didn’t know what to make of today. It was like her vision had become reality; she’d been walking through the streets of Los Angeles in her vision and when she’d come out of it, that’s exactly where she had found herself.
That was fucked up in so many ways that she didn’t even know where to start.
Truth was, she was doing okay until Dante Grimm showed up.
Ever since she’d spotted him in the crowd that night at Dex’s, her life had become considerably more complicated. She’d have to be an idiot not to think there was a connection.
Hence her presence here this evening.
She really didn’t know what she hoped to discover though, and that was only adding to her confusion. So far all she knew was the Grimm was an accomplished – okay, fine, a spectacular – illusionist. What that had to do with her she didn’t know.
But she intended to find out. Which meant sticking around for the second half of the show, which, she had to admit, wasn’t really all that much of a hardship.
To her surprise, the second half of the show proved to be much more traditional in nature, with Grimm doing the kinds of tricks you’d expect to see a nationally recognized illusionist doing. While enjoyable, it was as far from the first part of the act as one could get.
Which didn’t make a lot of sense.
Why focus your audience’s attention on that crazy story in the first half of the show, make such a big deal about it, only to completely ignore it for the second half? What good could that possibly serve?
Jessie didn’t get it. She was enough of a showperson herself to understand that you wanted the audience to see the entire show, intermission or not, as one continuous experience. It helped to build your brand; the audience knew what they were getting when they came to one of your performances. It was the kind of thing that turned a successful show into a hugely popular one.
But this?
This was kinda nuts, she thought. It did the exact opposite. It confused the audience and left them with the feeling that the show was a disjointed mess. Two different, distinct shows instead of one.
Why on earth would he want to do that?
She turned the question over several times in her mind, trying to come up with an answer that made sense. The only thing she could come up with was that it was, in fact, two separate shows, with each show meant to reach a different part of the audience.
She knew she was right the moment she hit upon the notion.
The story Grimm told in the first part of the show, while interesting and entertaining, wasn’t usually part of his show. He’d said as much himself, when he’d noted that he was going to show the audience something different tonight, something that they hadn’t come here expecting to see.
So if it wasn’t for them, who was it for?
Maybe it was a message, she thought. Intended for a certain group or maybe just one person in the audience.
The second act of the show was quite literally designed to make the audience forget about the first!
Jessie sat up straighter, her body practically vibrating with excitement as she realized the truth of it in her bones.
Act one had been a message.
Question was, for whom?
All sorts of possibilities ran through her mind, but none of them felt right.
She was missing a piece of the puzzle; she was certain of it.
Now, more than ever, she wanted some answers.
15
Luckily, she was in the right place to get them.
She found the bouncer, Anthony, waiting for her when the light came back up after the show was over.
“If you’re not in a rush,” he said, “Mr. Grimm would certainly appreciate a few moments of your time.”
Jessie felt a pulse of excitement race through her at the thought of getting some answers, but she kept her expression neutral as she agreed to the request.
The audience had mostly cleared out already, so the bouncer led her down to the main floor and across the club to the far side of the sunken dance area where a door stood half-hidden in the shadows at the far end of the opposite arm of the U. Without stopping he opened the door and ushered her inside.
Jessie found herself standing in a small corridor. Ahead of her was an elevator, which she assumed led either down to a basement or back up to the balcony she’d just left. She wondered why the builder had put the elevator back here, out of the way. Had he been afraid others might see?
Before she could ask about it, the bouncer turned to the door on her left, knocked once and then said, “You can go in,” before excusing himself.
Jessie hesitated for a moment and then reached out and opened the door.
The room beyond turned out to be an office, though one much more expensively furnished than you would expect to find in the back of a nightclub. A large marble desk complete with high-back office chair took up one side of the room while glass-doored bookcases full of old and rare-looking editions lined the opposite wall. A wet bar stood under draped windows at the back. Between the desk, bar, and bookshelves was a sitting area complete with four dark leather chairs arranged like the points on a compass facing inward toward each other.
Sitting in one of those chairs was the man she’d come to see, Dante Grimm. Just as she’d expected, he was also the man she’s seen watching her fights over the
last week.
“Ah, Miss Noble,” he said with a smile, as she entered the room. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”
He rose and came forward to offer his hand, which Jessie shook.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, pointing to the wet bar at the back of the room.
“Sure, that would be nice.”
She’d already had two drinks during the show, but being here, in the room with Grimm, made her feel a bit nervous and so she said yes. Given what she’d been putting into her system for months now, a few drinks certainly weren’t going to hurt.
As he moved to fulfill her request, he said over his shoulder, “Jack and Coke, right?”
Jessie blinked – How had he known that? – and then realized he’d probably just asked her waitress what she’d been drinking earlier. Ever the showman, apparently. Pleased she’d figured out at least one “trick” from the evening, she replied, “Yes. Thank you.”
Her host took a moment to fix a drink for them both, which gave Jessie that time to study him.
It was hard to tell how old he was. His ease of movement, his style of dress, they all spoke to a man in his mid-thirties but something about Grimm made her think he was much older. He had that sense about him, like he’d seen it all many times over and was just waiting for everyone else to catch up. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a long sleeve jersey, with scuffed cowboy boots on his feet, but she could just as easily see him in a custom-tailored three-piece suit; he had that look about him that said he’d be comfortable in just about anything.
He might look all Hollywood, but there was an accent there in the depths of his speech as well. It was very faint and most wouldn’t even notice, but Jessie had an ear for languages and she could sense it there, lingering in the depths of his speech. She wondered where he was from originally? England? Europe? South Africa maybe? She couldn’t tell.
“Did you enjoy the show?” Grimm asked, as he handed over her glass and then gestured for her to take a seat.
“I did, thanks.”
Grimm watched her for a minute and then asked, “Why do I feel like there’s a but in there somewhere?”
Damn, this guy’s perceptive! She decided not to beat around the bush. Better to be direct and end this before it went much further if she didn’t like the response.
Clearing her throat, Jessie said, “Its nothing to do with the show. I thought it was excellent, honest. But I have to admit to be a bit confused by your interest in me and my career.”
Grimm nodded. “I think you’re a good, no, an excellent fighter. Isn’t that enough?”
Jessie eyed him for a moment, considering. In for the penny, in for the pound, she thought.
“Honestly? No, it’s not. There are dozens of other fighters who are just as good, if not better, than I am out there and I can guarantee that each and every one of them would jump at the chance to have someone like you taking an interest. And yet you came looking for me, a washed-up has-been. So what’s gives?”
Grimm shook his head. “Your performance this evening shows you are far from washed-up.”
Jessie agreed with him – She’d been pretty damn good, hadn’t she? – but she wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. Rather than respond, she calmly waited for an answer to her question.
After a few minutes, he said, “What if I told you it was all true?”
Jessie frowned, not following. “What was true?”
“The story featured in the first part of my act. The one about the knights and the Veil and the Nine Races. What if I told you that it was more than just a story?”
She couldn’t help herself; she laughed. “I’d tell you that you were off your rocker.”
Grimm smiled good-naturedly in return. “Off my rocker? Why’s that?”
“Because believing in dragons and demons and all the rest of that stuff puts you in the same league as the guys who wear the tinfoil hats and believe that the government faked the moon landing in my book.”
“Crazies, you mean.”
Now it was Jessie’s turn to smile. “You said it, not me.”
Grimm swirled his glass, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, then looked directly at her. Without a change of expression or tone, he asked, “So how have the visions been lately?”
The question was so unexpected that Jessie nearly choked on her drink. With considerable effort, she managed to get the mouthful of Jack and Coke down her throat without spitting it all over herself and then did her best to act nonchalant as she set her glass down on the table in front of her.
“I’m sorry, did you say visions?” she asked.
Grimm didn’t bat an eye.
“Yes,” he said simply.
Jessie waited for him to elaborate, but he just sat there looking at her, so after a moment she shook her head. “I’m afraid that I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” her host asked.
Jessie wasn’t liking his line of questioning. Just what the hell had she gotten herself into?
“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about. As I said, I’ve never had any visions, lately or otherwise.”
“So what do you call them?” Grimm asked. “Hallucinations? The byproducts of the drugs that you’re taking?”
Now Jessie was getting worried. She didn’t know where this guy was getting his information or just what he wanted from her, but she didn’t intend to stick around and find out. She had her money; it was time to end this relationship and go their separate ways.
“Perhaps I should go…” she began but Grimm cut her off.
“Please, Miss Noble. We really don’t have time to beat around the bush.”
He produced a file folder seemingly out of nowhere – was it sitting in the chair with him this whole time? - and began pulling photographs out of its depths, laying them down one after another on the table between them.
“You had your first vision during your title match against Hagland three years ago. It lasted just long enough for your opponent to catch you with a left hook that dropped you to the mat.”
The first picture was a close-up of her face as she stood there in the middle of the ring, staring into the distance. Hagland’s fist could be seen at the edge of the shot headed inexorably in her direction.
“You spent some time trying different drugs to keep what you were seeing at bay…”
The second photograph was a shot of her taking a drag on a marijuana cigarette at a party somewhere; she didn’t recognize the room nor even the people standing around her, but then again, she’d probably been high as a kite at the time.
“...before graduating to the harder stuff.”
Finally, there was picture of her standing in an alley with her supplier. The photographer had caught the transaction underway; Jessie was handing a roll of cash to the man with one hand and accepting a small, paper-covered packet with the other.
“You’ve been injecting heroin into your system for almost two years now. But now the visions have become stronger and even the heroin isn’t helping.”
When he was finished, Grimm dropped the folder, still thick with photographs, onto the table in front of her and then leaned back in his chair.
Jessie couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She snatched up the folder and leafed through the photographs; it looked like Grimm had been keeping tabs on her for months, if not years!
“You’ve been following me,” she said, in a voice shaking with anger.
“Of course, I have.”
His matter-of-fact tone snapped Jessie’s attention away from the pictures. She stared into his face and didn’t see even the slightest sign of remorse over his actions. That got her blood boiling.
“Look asshole, I don’t know what you think you’re doing but…”
Grimm cut her off. “If you’d close your mouth for a moment I’d be happy to tell you.”
Like a puppet on a string, Jessie’s mouth snapped shut completely against her will.
Her host held his hands out in a calm down gesture. “Hear me out. Please. It truly is important. You are free to leave once you hear what I have to say. A few moments, not more.”
It took everything she had to reign her anger in. The invasion of her privacy made her furious and she wanted to leap across the table and teach the magician the meaning of the term ground and pound, but something in the back of her head warned her against doing so. The man had just made her shut up with nothing but a word; who knew what he could do when pressed?
When Grimm saw that she was willing to listen, he went on.
“I wasn’t kidding earlier. Everything I said during the first half of my show is true. The Realms, the Nine Races, the Veil – all of it! For centuries we have benefited from the work of the Circle. Their efforts are the only reason that you and I and all the other millions of people around the world are not fighting for their lives on a daily basis against creatures that would make your skin crawl at the very sight of them.”
Jessie shook her head. “I don’t believe you,” she said flatly.
Grimm laughed.
“The truth doesn’t give a rat’s ass whether you believe it or not. But for the sake of argument, answer me this. Have you seen anything unusual in the last few weeks? Anything that would make you think the world isn’t quite what you’ve imagined it to be?”
