“While we’re still keeping the general population as much in the dark as possible, until such time as they are ready for full disclosure or we are capable of hiding ourselves again, we must work with the most powerful echelons of human society toward either of these two ends. Hence the Initiative.”
Neither of the Monarchs changed expression, and yet Maeve had the distinct impression they were amused.
“In olden times,” began the dark one, her eerily uninflected words picked up by the light one, “we did not worry about a means to an end.” Both leaned forward, and the conversational volley passed to the dark one. “We were the end.”
The hair on Maeve’s nape bristled. “Well, slaughtering humanity isn’t really an option this time,” she said, her voice strong and very, very dry, despite the fact her stomach plunged into her shoes the moment those two sets of dead eyes flicked toward her.
“It speaks,” said the light one.
“How droll,” said the dark.
Ryu shot her a look that begged her to keep her trap shut.
“Slaughtering humanity is always an option,” said the dark, to which the light one gave an odd huffing sound. Maeve eventually realized the sound was a laugh.
Great, she thought. Alfar humor.
Ryu took a step forward, putting Maeve slightly behind him. It was very gentlemanly for a murderous, blood-sucking fiend, but she knew her flame-haired head would still be a perfect target above his own silky dark crown.
“My Queens,” he said, “there is no doubt of your power or your infinite will. But times have changed and humanity is no longer ours to control. We need your cooperation in the Initiative, not least because your territory is so vast. And we value your experience, your wisdom. Your voice is needed in the debate over how best to handle the current situation.”
Bullshit, thought Maeve. We really want eyes and ears on the ground in your Territory, so we can have a heads up if you crazy fucks decide to take matters into your own hands and turn San Francisco into a bloodbath.
The two Monarchs looked at one another. Maeve had no idea what they would do. They’d sent two previous human envoys of the Initiative home so thoroughly glamoured that they’d had a hard time recalling their own names, let alone what their mission had been or what had occurred at the Gold Court. These humans’ supernatural counterparts had come back so frightened they’d promptly quit the Initiative and moved overseas.
Since Ryu was, technically, another Monarch, the Initiative had sent him to tackle these recalcitrant Queens. That said, he was a Monarch by vote and not a hereditary Alfar leader, and the majority of his governance was completed through a democratic senate—hence his ability to work with the Initiative. So there was still no guarantee they’d listen, as they probably considered him an upstart, rabble-rousing nobody.
Although we’re still alive and I still know my name, Maeve thought. That’s progress.
“A bargain,” said the light Queen, beginning one of their weird badminton-game speeches.
“You will do something for us.”
“And we will consider your request.”
“That is our best offer.”
“Unless you would like to leave us the redhead.”
Maeve shivered and Ryu gave a firm shake of his head. “We will keep the redhead,” he said, “although we would like to know more about this bargain.”
Both Queens smiled, a slow, chilly smear of their lips that showed their teeth but absolutely no warmth.
“We do not negotiate. Take our offer or leave the redhead.”
Ryu’s shoulder stiffened but he nodded. “Will you tell us more of your offer?”
“Sebastian,” said the dark Queen, and the frog-man hopped up out of nowhere.
“Tell them what is expected,” said the light Queen.
And then the two Monarchs sat back in their throne, their faces going blank as if they’d turned into statues.
Maeve and Ryu bowed, his extravagant and hers as minimal as she could make it. And then they turned to follow Sebastian, who ribbited them back the way they’d come.
THREE
“We’ve got a poker, amongst other problems,” Sebastian said, then ribbited.
“Shit,” Ryu swore. Maeve looked confused.
“A poker,” Sebastian repeated, in the loud, slow way obnoxious people used with the deaf or foreigners.
Maeve’s sharp-featured face flushed with annoyance and her eyes narrowed at the frog-man.
She’s hot when she’s angry, Ryu thought, biting back a smile. Which explains why she’s so hot. She’s always angry.
“What is a poker?” she asked, turning to Ryu. Her words were clipped. Ryu knew she hated showing any ignorance of the supernatural world.
“A poker is slang for a human under the influence of, er, a very specific type of magic.”
“Which is?”
“Usually some type of sex magic.”
“Oh,” she said, clearly taken aback. “So, like, glamoured?”
“Maybe. But there are other things out there that work some powerful sex juju. And pokers are very specific.” He scrubbed a hand through his short hair, wondering how best to broach this subject with a woman who thought all supernaturals were depraved assholes, when clearly such magic was indeed the work of a depraved asshole.
“You know when you open up Facebook,” he began, “and you see those random stories about people, um, getting intimately acquainted with inappropriate objects? Like picnic tables or pool floaties?”
She nodded, her ginger brows rising slightly. “Yes, I’ve seen those.”
“Well, those are either really messed-up humans or they’re humans who’ve come under the influence of some of this powerful sex juju...and they’ve lost their inhibitions, shall we say.”
“Pokers,” said the frog-man, nodding sagely. “Ribbit.”
“So some of you people,” Maeve said to Ryu, her voice growing chillier and chillier, as if she’d plunged it into a deep freeze, “do magical stuff to humans that makes them try to have sex with things they shouldn’t have sex with?”
“It’s not common practice,” he said, “And we frown on it, believe me.”
“You frown on it,” she said, and he realized his mistake.
“I mean, we punish the perpetrators severely. We know how bad it is, obviously.”
“And what do you do about the humans?”
Ryu blinked. “What do you mean?”
“What do you do about the human, who has been arrested for publicly fornicating with a picnic table? What happens to that guy?”
Damn, Ryu thought, suddenly feeling an unwelcome surge of guilt.
“Er,” he began, but Maeve cut him off with a snort and a short, sharp chopping gesture.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, turning as far away from him as she could toward Sebastian. “Tell us about this ‘poker.’“
Sebastian began talking, but Ryu was so furious he could only keep half an ear on what the frog-man was saying.
How dare she, Ryu thought as Sebastian droned on about a spate of humans dead by decidedly unnatural means. It wasn’t like humans were any better behaved toward each other. Look at their wars, their genocides, their weapons of mass destruction. Look at 4chan! While individual supes might wreak havoc occasionally, humans as a species were far worse to each other than even the most jaded, bloodthirsty supernatural.
“But the thing is, none of the deaths have anything in common, except that they’re unnatural,” Sebastian droned, his speech punctuated by the occasional ribbit. “They died of all sorts of different scenarios...”
She hates us, he realized about Maeve.
“...there have been a few pokers...”
Like really hates us. She’s...magicist. He looked at her long, strong back. Her hands were still clenched into fists at her side.
“...but other strange things. A woman who ate herself to death...”
He tried to think about what he knew about Maeve. Th
ey’d met a number of times, and she’s always been very, very cold to him. She was cold to the other supes in their squad, but she was especially cold to him.
“...and a child who jumped off his school because he said he was Superman...”
Maybe my good looks intimidate her? As usual these days when he thought something outrageously arrogant, he saw Jane True’s face, laughing at him. He scowled. He’d enjoyed being arrogant, and his halfling ex had ruined that for him.
“...a grandmother who was shot robbing a bank...”
Maybe she just doesn’t like supes and she really doesn’t like me because I’m the head of that half of the squad. He thought back to their interactions. He had been a bit overbearing, a bit flirtatious, as was his wont. And she was a human, to whom he was probably a bit dismissive.
Even though this one has the body of a succubus and the face of a narcissum.
And the tongue of a harpy, he reminded himself, before he went too far down that path.
“...but none had any history of violence or deviance. Nothing. They were all respectable, upstanding members of society. For humans,” the frog-man added, winking at Ryu.
That’s why she hates us, Ryu realized, a little light bulb going off in his head. He returned Sebastian’s look with a cold stare. We can really be dicks.
“So where should we start?” Maeve asked, ignoring the sort of supernatural jibe that she must encounter all day, every day, when her work brought her into supe circles.
“The bodies are here, in our morgue,” Sebastian said, “along with the personal effects they were wearing when they died. We’ve not been able to discover any sign of magical tampering, but maybe the Initiative will succeed where we have failed.” He gave them a spittle-festooned smile that took up half his face. “If you’ll follow me.”
Before Maeve could do so, Ryu placed a hand on her elbow, letting Sebastian get a little ahead of them.
“Be careful down there,” he said to Maeve. She rolled her eyes and he noticed, not for the first time, that they were a smoky gray, lit from within by streaks of gold.
“I can handle myself,” she snarled. “Just because I’m a human...”
“It’s not because you’re a human,” he interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. “We’re being set up.”
That brought her up sharply. “What do you mean?”
“Whatever’s going on here,” he explained, “we’re meant to fail this test. Ruth and Ailish want nothing to do with the Initiative. They’re hoping we fail.”
“And by ‘fail,’“ she said, “you mean...”
“Die,” he said.
She sighed. “Damn them.”
He placed a hand on her upper arm and pretended not to notice when she flinched. “We’ll figure this out,” he said. “We’re partners, and we’re smart, and we’ll beat them at their own game.”
After a split second, she nodded. “We will beat them,” she said.
“Partners?” he repeated, holding out his hand.
Again, she paused before taking it. When she did, her hand was cold, her long fingers strong.
“Partners,” she said, in the grim tone of someone admitting something horrible.
It’s a first step, he thought to himself, realizing that the Gold Court wasn’t the only entity involved in a little game playing.
I will change Maeve’s mind about supes, he vowed, if it’s the last thing I do.
FOUR
The Gold Court’s morgue looked like any other morgue, to Maeve’s surprise. She didn’t know what she’d expected, exactly, but it wasn’t gleaming steel and run-of-the-mill surgical instruments.
Maybe more iron and stone?
Once away from the eerily empty Great Hall and Reception Room, the Court was bustling. They’d walked through room after room of offices, living quarters, a gym, even some shops.
Maeve was beginning to think that the Monarchs maybe hadn’t glamoured her perception of the Great Hall’s size, but that the entire Court was something of a TARDIS.
When they’d arrived at the morgue, Sebastian had handed them over to a very tall female supernatural wearing a lab coat. Goblin, Maeve thought, trying not to stare at the green skin and yolk-yellow eyes. She’d met goblins, envoys of various supernatural Courts, but they always wore a human glamour. She’d never seen one in the flesh, so to speak.
“Dr. McIntyre,” the goblin said by way of introduction, shaking their hands perfunctorily. “You’re from the Initiative?”
Ryu nodded, and Maeve thought the look Dr. McIntyre gave them was pure poor bastards.
“What can you tell us about the victims?” Maeve asked, wanting to assert herself after feeling like Ryu’s accessory in their meeting with the Monarchs.
The goblin sighed, a frustrated sound that Maeve knew well. “Very little. Come this way.”
The doctor led them into a large room, separate from the others, in which at least a dozen bodies were laid out, covered by sheets. A dozen other tables were set up, one next to each body, containing the person’s effects.
“Our victims,” Dr. McIntyre explained, unnecessarily, “and everything they were wearing when they died.”
“Good,” Ryu said. “What have you found so far?”
“In short, nothing. We allowed the humans to do their own autopsies of the bodies before we intervened, and they found nothing biological. Then we claimed the bodies and we’ve been doing our own tests, and yet nothing magical can be determined.”
“So how do you know what’s wrong with them is magical in nature?” Maeve asked.
The goblin eyed her, then waved for them to follow. She approached a sheet-wrapped figure and twitched the covering off the face. An older woman lay there, eyes closed.
“This is Ellen Snyder. She fostered children all her life. They all speak of her generosity and kindness. She died by being hit by a bus...chasing a foster child who escaped after she’d tied him up and had been force feeding him, cooing that he’d never be hungry again.”
“Ugh,” said Maeve. “But maybe she wasn’t really so kind. Abuse is often overlooked in such situations.”
The goblin moved to another body. “This is Larry O’Donnel. He was a self-described ‘tree-hugger.’ He’s one of our pokers...you can guess of what.”
“Ouch,” Ryu said. “But if he really liked trees...”
“He wore down his penis to a bloody stump,” Dr. McIntyre said bluntly. “Eventually severing enough larger arteries to bleed to death.”
Ryu paled, and Maeve found herself patting his arm sympathetically. She jerked back her hand when she realized what she was doing.
“The whole room is like this. An animal rights advocate who climbed into a polar bear habitat to free the beast. Obviously, that ended badly. A woman who volunteered at soup kitchens and cut off her own arm and a foot to add to a batch of soup. She bled out. An NRA guy who was shot by police when he armed himself to the teeth and approached a bunch of schools, trying to gain entrance. They later found his manifesto, which said he was going to arm the principals of all the local schools so they could protect themselves.”
Ryu and Maeve exchanged looks. To her consternation, he looked no less confused than she felt.
“So this isn’t just a poker?” Ryu asked the doctor.
The goblin shook her head. “Hardly. There’s really no rhyme or reason to what’s going on.”
“Except that whatever’s affecting them seems to be taking advantage of their greatest ideological weakness,” Maeve chimed in.
The doctor gave her a sharp yellow look. “I didn’t think of it like that,” she admitted, after a few seconds. “I thought of it more like...their desires.”
“That’s usually how a poker is made,” Ryu said. “It’s a glamour that lowers inhibitions, so the poker goes after whatever’s closest.”
“But this isn’t whatever’s closest,” Maeve said. “This is what they care the most about. What they’ve invested in and worked to make better. Then they die
in a terrible parody of their care.”
Ryu visibly shuddered. “That’s horrible.”
The goblin shook her head. “But there’s no magic that works like that. And I see where you’re going,” she said to Maeve. “If this were just lowered inhibitions, the soup kitchen lady might have mugged the person next to her to get more money for the soup kitchen, or the tree hugger might have gone and lived in the nearest shrubbery. They wouldn’t have mangled themselves like that. That’s just...”
“Obsessive,” said Maeve. “The opposite of losing inhibitions. It’s like they became super focused.”
“Okay, but that would have to be some tremendously powerful mojo,” Ryu said, turning to the doctor. “And how did you not feel something, if someone used magic that powerful?”
Dr. McIntyre nodded. “Exactly. Can you imagine the power such a glamour would take? We’d spot it a mile away.”
“Well, then what could do something like this without a glamour?” asked Maeve.
Ryu and the goblin looked at one another. Eventually, both shrugged. “A number of things, but all are equally improbable,” the goblin said.
Maeve had a thought. “Do your bosses know?”
That brought the goblin up short. She blinked her yellow eyes at Maeve, not speaking. Finally, she said, “You would have to ask them.”
Ryu raised an eyebrow at Maeve, pursing his lips, and she knew he’d filed that response away for later.
“What about their stuff?”
The goblin gestured. “Feel free to look at everything. It’s all here, anything on their person at the time of their death. And we combed their living areas as well, looking for any hex bags or charmed objects, but found nothing.”
Ryu and Maeve picked through the detritus. It was what you’d expect people to be wearing or carrying during a chilly San Francisco fall. Jeans and slacks, layers of long-sleeved T-shirts and sweaters. Distinctively patterned trendy hats, scarves, gloves, thick knit socks. One man even had his phone encased in a knit pouch, a testament to a damp climate that left cold deep in the bones.
The Ryu Morgue (A Jane True Short Story) (Trueniverse Book 2) Page 2
