The Ian Dex Supernatural Thriller Series: Books 5 - 7 (Las Vegas Paranormal Police Department Box Sets Book 2)
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I took a deep breath, feeling much better now.
“Rachel,” I answered, “but why does that matter?”
“Is there gold at the end of the rainbow?”
Clearly, I was not going to get an answer to my question.
“No.”
“Is there gold in the rainbow?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because gold is a color,” I answered, returning fully to my normal self as my mind felt sharp and clear. “Are we done?”
“Have you completed your officer evaluations?”
I squinted. “Huh?”
She was clearly the most patient person in the world.
“Have you completed your officer evaluations?”
“Oh, uh…not yet.” I pulled my collar. “I still have to do that.”
“Why haven’t you completed your officer evaluations?” she asked.
“There just hasn’t been much time,” I answered.
I suddenly felt like I’d rather be getting questions about what it would take for a lightbulb to fuck a tissue box so they could give birth to a sunspot.
“I know I have to get to it,” I said finally. “I’ll…uh…make it a priority or something.”
“Do so,” she stated matter-of-factly. “The final phase of your reintegration is complete. Please exit through the door straight ahead and sign the paperwork.”
I stood up and walked over to the door. After one last look back into the room, I shrugged and walked out.
CHAPTER 11
T he exit paperwork was usually simpler than the entry paperwork, but there were still a number of things to sign and pledges to make, etc.
It was frustrating because I needed to check on things topside.
Unfortunately, it required special authorization to make a connector call from the reintegration chamber. Fortunately, Griff was just exiting the completion area and I called out to him.
“Griff, please see if you can get an authorized call up to Lydia to check on things.”
He nodded and walked out.
I knew we needed to get my training going before I could successfully battle the amalgamites, but if they were hitting the town already, I’d have to take my chances in order to stop them.
With a sigh, I plopped down in the chair in front of a kind-looking older gentleman. If I had to make a guess, which I wouldn’t do aloud due to the debacle that happened with the werebear/fae from before, I would say he was a vampire. Usually, I could tell straightaway what a particular super was, but sometimes I failed at it horribly. The odd part about thinking this guy was a vampire was him looking like a decent sort. Vampires were known to be rather snooty. Then again, Chuck was a vampire and he was one of the coolest people around.
“Mr. Dex, yes?” the fellow asked.
“Yes.”
“Amalgamite, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Any changes since your last reintegration?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered without control.
I really didn’t want to answer the question at all, but one of the things that happened during reintegration was the unleashing of previous mental programming. That included the need to speak truthfully when asked questions by the officers down here.
He took out a fresh piece of paper. “And they are?”
“I can cast magic like a full mage now,” I said, struggling to keep my mouth shut. “I can pop out my fangs, utilize the power of tattoos, hunt like a werewolf, fight like a werebear, curse like a pixie—”
The man held up a hand and tapped the pen on the table.
“As an amalgamite, could you not do all these things before?”
“Not really, no,” I answered. “I mean, I could cast spells, sure, but not like I can now. I’ve always been faster and stronger than most, of course. But the teeth thing? No.”
He leaned back. “Is it a problem for you?”
“It makes me lisp something fierce, but Rachel finds it sexy.” I paused. “The teeth, not the lisping.”
“Rachel?”
“My girlfriend.”
“Normal or super?” he asked, his eyes thinning.
“Super,” I answered. “She just went through reintegration before I did.”
He thumbed through his papers for a moment, picked one out of the bunch, and started scanning it from top to bottom.
“Rachel Cress?”
“Yes.”
He jotted something down on her paper before tucking it back in with the rest.
“Are you having any issues controlling these newfound powers, Mr. Dex?”
That was a good question. I wasn’t experienced with things yet, but I could control whether or not they fired off. Still, I had the feeling that wasn’t what he was asking.
I’d have to word my response carefully, making it truthful but guarded.
“My powers don’t happen without my expressed desire that they do,” I answered.
He held my stare for a few extra moments before nodding at me. Then he started writing a bunch of stuff out. I wanted to peek down and see exactly what he was putting on that page, but I didn’t want to chance getting caught.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Is there anything else you’d like to declare before exiting the area?”
“Not that I can think of, no,” I answered truthfully.
He picked up a clipboard that had a small stack of papers attached to it. This was the signing phase. Talk about hand cramps. You had to either sign or initial a good fifty times before you were let go.
“Each page will have a red or blue checkmark next to a line,” he said, pointing at an example. “The red checkmark signifies that you are to sign your full name, the blue one means you are to initial that spot.”
My first few signings were crisp and clean, but after that it started to look like I’d graduated from medical school.
After about fifteen minutes, I finished up and handed the clipboard back to him.
He ran through all the pages, then stamped the front, added his signature, and placed the entire thing in a white tray that sat next to him.
“The only thing remaining is for you to recite the Topside Allegiance, Mr. Dex,” he announced. “Please raise your right hand and turn toward the camera.”
I did.
“Directly under the camera, you will see the latest Topside Allegiance. I have included your name in the top section.” He pointed. “Please read the entire allegiance while keeping your hand firmly in the air.”
I cleared my throat.
“I, Ian Dex, solemnly swear to uphold and defend the Topside Allegiance, taking every precaution to avoid causing injury to any normal regardless of any risks that it may cause me or any other supernatural. I recognize that I am being given the liberty to travel topside, but such liberty may be revoked at any time, without cause or provocation.” I took a breath. “Furthermore, I understand that I represent the supernatural community as a whole. Therefore, I will do my best to protect normals from other supernaturals as a matter of course.” The page scrolled some more. “Failure to keep my promise to uphold and defend the Topside Allegiance may result in my immediate removal from topside, and I may be subject to disciplinary action, which may or may not include deep reintegration, as well as time in prison.”
The light dimmed and the text faded away.
“Thank you, Mr. Dex,” the man said with a warm smile. “You have satisfied the Reintegration Process Committee requirements and, due to the fact that you are an officer of the Paranormal Police Department, you are not due for another reintegration cycle until this time next year.”
“Cool,” I said, standing up. “Thanks.”
“Please exit through the red door and have a nice day.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice.
CHAPTER 12
T he rest of my crew looked about as shellshocked as I felt. There was something about having your brain scrambled around that made you wonder how much control you t
ruly had over your thoughts and actions.
“Everyone okay?” I asked as I took a seat next to Rachel.
They all nodded, but it looked like nothing more than a reaction to the question and not a conscious answer.
We were out in the hallway that everyone exited to when they were done with reintegration. There were chairs and water fountains and such, but it wasn’t what I would consider the most secure place to speak about things. Still, I needed to know what was going on topside.
“Griff,” I said, turning toward him, “were you able to get through to Lydia?”
“I was,” he replied. “She said everything has been quiet. There have been no reports of foul play from any of the casinos, nor have any of our normal informants called in any complaints.”
“Good,” I sighed. “That will make things easier.”
“What things?” asked Rachel.
“I’m going to need you all to train me to…” I paused and looked around. “Actually, what say we take a walk to the cafe? I’m starving.”
They looked at me curiously, but clearly caught on to my concerns about our being watched.
Griff stood up. “I dare say that I’m rather famished myself.”
We walked down the corridor and entered the cafeteria. It was mostly empty, which was perfect for us. But we still had to be careful, just in case there were eyes tracking us. The truth was that we were likely just being paranoid. That was a temporary side effect of going through reintegration. Arguably, it was a valid side effect seeing how they played around with your deepest thoughts and beliefs while you were in those chambers. This was all done by choice, though. We were the ones who wanted to live topside, after all.
I ordered a couple of fish tacos and grabbed a seat near the back.
Everyone else on my squad clearly had bigger appetites than I did at the moment.
Rachel, Jasmine, Serena, and Warren got pancakes and eggs, Chuck had a steak with potatoes and corn, Griff had salmon and vegetables, Felicia had a big bowl of chili, and Turbo had a burrito that was at least two inches taller than he was. Jasmine carried it to the table for him.
“Okay,” I said, after finishing a bite, “I’m going to need all of you to help me to learn how to use my powers to the fullest.” They seemed more engrossed with their meals than with my words, but I continued on. “I’m able to control the power well enough, but I don’t know how to maximize it. Each of you are masters at your art. I need your mentoring so I can face my ‘brothers’.”
There was no argument.
Everyone knew this was an odd situation. Having me at my best was the only way we’d have a chance at defeating a bunch of amalgamites. And based on what I was told before, the others were not as powerful as I was currently. They were more powerful than I’d been prior to being bitten by that damn vampire, though, and that was my worry.
What if they grew in strength eventually?
If that happened, it’d take more than just me to combat them. My team would certainly try to help, but they wouldn’t last very long. The only way we’d be able to drop a bunch of amalgamites who had the same level of power as me would be by getting a lot of backup from the Directors. Sadly, they weren’t being all that helpful as of late.
Bastards.
“The way I see it,” I said, “I’ll need to be able to control my magic so I don’t wear myself out too soon.”
“Agreed,” said Griff, who was known for playing more of a defensive role during our bouts with the bad guys. “Self-preservation is paramount to any successful battle.”
The pixie in me wanted to call him Captain Obvious, but I held that down.
“True,” Rachel said between chews, “but you can’t win a fight if you don’t punch back.” She then turned to me. “What you’ll really need is to learn how to block and punch, Ian. With your power, you should be able to do both.”
“It’ll take some practice, though,” Jasmine chimed in.
Nobody argued the point.
I turned to Warren as he was dousing his pancakes with enough syrup to cause the average person to drop into a diabetic coma. How he managed to stay so ridiculously thin was a mystery. It wasn’t like the man exercised. I suppose some people just had the metabolism of a hummingbird.
“I’ll need you to help me with runes, Warren.”
“Sounds good, Chief,” he said, not even bothering to look up.
“Chuck and Felicia,” I said, glancing over at the two of them, “vampire and werewolf stuff.”
“It’s mostly about control,” replied Felicia while working her knife and fork like a samurai.
“Yep,” agreed Chuck.
“Serena—” I started.
“Healing,” she interrupted. “Yes, you will need to learn that thoroughly if you are to survive against what we saw earlier.”
“Great.”
The final person in the bunch was Turbo. He wasn’t exactly known for his prowess with Pixie Dust, but he could lay out a stream of obscenities with the best of them. The problem there was that he only did that in extreme situations. He prided himself on keeping his nerdiness at the forefront of his personality, not the vulgarities. The last couple of weeks taught me that I had gotten pretty decent at calling people names in creative ways, anyway. Where I needed Turbo’s help was with technology.
I didn’t say anything to him, though. He had his coat and hat off, lying on the table next to his plate, and all I could see of him was his lower body hanging out one side of that burrito.
“Well,” I said, downing the last bite of my second taco, “as soon as you’re all ready, we’re going to go see my friends in the Badlands.”
All eyes flashed at me, realizing that I meant it was time to visit Valerie and the valkyries.
CHAPTER 13
T his was the third time I’d visited with the valkyries, and it was the second time for my crew.
We stood in the center of a large arena. Around it were rows of seats that were occupied by some of the most beautiful women in the universe. They were tall, muscular, battle-hardened, and yet simultaneously carried with them a level of femininity that would be the envy at a Hollywood ball.
Valerie, the leader of the troop, was so incredibly attractive that she made fae look pale in comparison. Her battle gear alone was enough to set The Admiral ablaze, and he was always quick to point that out.
Even Rachel had expressed serious interest in our visiting for some playtime, should my desire for that ever arise.
So far, I had declined.
It was one thing to have a fantasy going about such activities, but there was something entirely different between fantasy and reality.
Been there.
Done that.
Got punched in the coins.
But, much to The Admiral’s chagrin, this wasn’t the time for sexual deviances. We had to keep our minds on the task at hand.
“Speaking of hands—” began The Admiral.
“Shut up!” I interrupted before he could finish his sentence. “I’m working right now.”
“So am I!”
“Ian Dex,” Valerie said, stepping over while sharing smiles with the rest of my team, “you have returned to us again. I am pleased.”
“I wish it were under less urgent circumstances,” I replied. “It turns out that there is a little flock of amalgamites who are trying to kill me and my team.” I scratched my head. “Well, they seemed to be trying to kill them, but we honestly don’t know exactly what they want, yet. If I was to guess, though, I’d say they want me to join their ranks.” I looked up at her. “They’re apparently my brothers.”
“How many?” she asked.
“Four,” I answered. “That we’re aware of, anyway. I suppose there could be more.”
“Are they all as capable in the sack as you?” she queried with a seductive look.
“Hey,” said Rachel, replacing her valkyries-are-sooo-dreamy look with her I’m-going-to-punch-Ian-in-the-coins look while staring at me. “I th
ought you said you didn’t sleep with them?”
Like I said, fantasy and reality are not the same thing.
“Relax, little one,” Valerie said, putting her hand on Rachel’s shoulder. My girlfriend basically melted at that point. “He did not have relations with us, though we wish he had. We only know of his abilities because we watched him more than satisfy a dragon.”
“Ew,” winced Rachel.
“I told you about that, Rachel,” I growled. “This was before you and I were back together, as you may recall?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she replied. “Sorry.”
“Anyway,” I said, tearing my smoldering eyes off Rachel, “I don’t know how good my brothers are in the sack. I just know that they’re trying to kill, or hurt or whatever, everyone on the PPD, except for me…I think. After that, they’re bound to try and take over Las Vegas.” I blew out a long breath. “The bottom line is that I have to stop them, and in order to do that, I need my team to help train me.”
Valerie’s eyes lit up at that.
“Training?” she said as the muscles in her arms rippled. “This is for battle?”
“Yes,” I replied, feeling suddenly worried. “Why do you seem excited by that?”
“Because, Ian Dex,” she cheered, “battle is our first love. It’s even more interesting than sexual adventure.”
“Okay,” said The Admiral, “now that’s where I’m going to have to disagree with the lady.”
“Stow it,” I commanded him. Then, speaking to Valerie again, I asked, “I don’t suppose you’d care to assist in my training, then?”
“Honestly?” she replied with wide eyes. “That would be incredible. The last time we helped train someone was during the Roman era. It was quite exciting, and we are quite possibly responsible for Rome’s many successful conquests.”
“How do you fathom that to be true?” asked Griff, who was quite the historian, according to him anyway.
“Because our skill with the blade is legendary.”
“Yes,” Griff said, “I imagine it is. But are you not responsible for selecting who will live and who will die on the field of battle?”