Shuman has her arms crossed in front of her chest and is standing squarely in the hallway when I approach. She’s wearing her usual leather vest and sour expression. Her long, black hair is braided down her back, and the bohemian warrior has her amethyst eyes narrowed at me.
I point to her forearm. “Remember I offered to pay to have that tattoo of that rattlesnake removed? That offer still stands if you want to take me up on it. No one is going to take you seriously with a serpent printed on your body, not to mention that getting a date will be impossible, but that’s probably also due to your sullen nature. Boys like a gal who smiles every once and while.”
“The rattlesnake is my spirit animal,” she says in her usual breathy voice.
“Oh, how cute. My spirit animal is the devil. That’s where I get my relentless charm and red hair.”
“You’re here because of the lack of reports, and you are going to try and tell me how to do my job,” she states with confidence.
“You know, your clairvoyance takes all the fun out of things. How am I ever supposed to throw you a surprise party if you keep this up?”
Her thin lips form a hard line. “The news reporters are being blocked.”
“No shit,” I say. “I’m here to unblock them. Where’s Roya?”
Roya Stark is the best news reporter the Lucidites have. She’s also Trey Underwood’s daughter. She doesn’t like special treatment, which is why I verbally abuse her at every turn. Oh, and also because she’s a royal pain in the ass.
“She recently saw an event that needs intervention,” Shuman says.
“Good. I’ll take it.” I snap at the woman before me.
“I sent her directly to the Strategic Department with the report.”
I blink dully at her. “Why would you do that when you would have known I’d be coming?”
“Because it’s better if you take the assignment directly from Trent.”
“Oh, you love to play this fucking game, don’t you?” I pretend to ask. “You’re manipulating the situation. You see some future event where I need to do something, so you’re bloody orchestrating this whole thing. Why don’t you save us all the time and trouble, and just tell me what I need to do so that I avoid whatever or do whatever or make whatever happen?”
Shuman remains impassive.
After a moment, I sigh loudly. “Fine. You want me to work this case related to this report, don’t you?”
She nods.
“But like a fucking puppy, you want me to go and fetch the report from my supposed boss, is that right?”
“Trent is your boss. You appointed him,” she corrects.
“That’s not really how bosses work, but I get that you’re still struggling with the English language, so no biggie. I won’t rub it in your face by mentioning it.”
Most would have given me a good sneer after that jab. Shuman merely turns around and marches off.
I sigh again. “Fine! Fine!” I say too loudly, knowing how Shuman loves her quiet, peaceful atmosphere. “So I guess we’re not addressing why your reporters aren’t seeing a damn thing lately?”
She turns and looks at me, a cold expression in her wise eyes. “I’m aware of the problem, and it’s being handled.”
I study her. The woman before me isn’t dumb. She’s knows something. I can see it. But she also thinks there’s a fabric of time that needs to be preserved and not altered too much. “Certain events need to happen,” she’s said many times when I’ve caught her withholding news reports. For every disaster she’s allowed me to stop, she’s kept me from another one.
I stalk over to her, trying to look down at her, but she’s pretty much my same height, which is impressive.
“What do you know? What are you not saying?”
Shuman lifts her chin. “All I can say is that there is no way to stop what is coming. I’ve tried.”
I want to grab her by the forearm and haul her into the air, but I stop myself. “What does that mean?”
“It means, that you need to take the case I gave to Trent.” Shuman draws in a deep breath. “That’s the best way to minimize damage. Avoiding a catastrophe will only draw it to us faster.”
Chapter Four
Shuman might be an annoying bitch, but she’s probably right. I wanted to argue with her about her cryptic words, but it would do us no good.
I like to control things. That’s why I’m a fucking brilliant agent. I can change bad men into good ones with my mind. I can make people see things that aren’t real. I have changed the past, the present, and the future. However, Shuman has a different ability and it burdens her in different ways. I’m certain that if she sees something bad coming and says we can’t avoid it, she’s right. It’s fucking annoying. But all I can do is follow the path that she’s laid out for me.
I walk straight into Scapes Escapes, the department area I designed years ago. There’s a meeting going on in the main room. Trent, my successor, is at the front of the room, talking to a dozen agents around the table. I stride straight into the space and extend a hand to him.
He buttons his mouth shut, confusion written on his face as he looks between me and my outstretched hand.
“Ren, what are you—”
“Report,” I say at once to the guy half my age who hasn’t aged as gracefully as me. His dark brown eyes are full of life, but the responsibilities of the job are too much for him, at least for now. “Give it to me now.”
“But I was just about—”
“To give me the report,” I say, wondering why Shuman wanted me to get this directly from Trent. I know she has some lame ass reason that I won’t figure out until later, and it will make my head cramp.
“There’s only one report, and I figured that—”
“Did you figure that you’d give it to one of the many agents in this room who have a tenth of my experience?” I pretend to ask, sweeping my hand at the curious agents all staring wide-eyed at the exchange.
“I haven’t decided yet who will take this case,” he admits.
Trent will one day make a good head official for the Strategic Department. That’s why I picked him. But he isn’t there yet. He relies on his confidence when he should be using logic. And sometimes, he puts his heart into matters that should involve only reasoning. We all have an arsenal to use when dealing with things, but picking the best weapon at the right time is key. Unfortunately for Trent, he’ll have to learn through trial and error, because he wasn’t blessed with my talents and abilities.
At times, I wish I wasn’t either. It is an absolute burden.
I snap my fingers. “Give. Me. The. Report.”
He isn’t even good at pretending. His head toggles back and forth, but if I had Shuman’s ability to know the future, I’d already see clearly what happens next. A moment later, he reluctantly pulls the piece of paper from his pocket and places it in my hands.
“It’s rather complicated,” he warns.
“I think I’ll survive,” I say, striding back for the exit.
“And it’s going to require technology,” he calls at my back.
I stop. Tense. Grimace. “That’s fine,” I finally say. “I’ve been looking for a reason to slam my head against something hard. Visiting the head scientist for the Lucidites will give me that much-needed reason.”
“What are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Trent asks when I continue my trek to the exit.
I turn and face him, careful to avoid the eager eyes looking back at me from the agents who used to do everything I said. “Sounds like it’s time to take a holiday.”
“But Shuman says we should remain here, just in case,” Trent argues.
Again, the little witch is up to something. It’s not nefarious. If anything, I trust her implicitly. She’s trying to help in her own weird way.
“Then stay here. Read a fucking book. Play cards. I suggest that you, Trent Reynolds, take an online class on management.”
He gulps. Nods. Gives the agents staring between us
a reluctant expression.
I shake my head, realizing that not until Trent can stand up to me, can he effectively lead the department that flourished under my reign. The serious expression in his eyes tells me he knows this all too well.
Chapter Five
Aiden Livingston is by far the worst human being to have ever lived. He’s a fucking scientist. That’s not why I loathe him, although science is the very bane of my existence. Aiden Livingston is, in essence, too cheerful, too optimistic, and too loud. It’s like God wrapped everything that I hate into one person, and poof, the head official for the Science Department of the Lucidites was born.
As usual, the music in Aiden’s lab is blaring when I stride into the disorganized space. Wires and carcasses of projects gone awry litter the many workstations. I keep my eyes on the report I took from Trent, rereading it for the third time. It doesn’t make any sense.
For being the only case that was reported, it’s trivial yet complex. It only involves saving the lives of a few people. I’m not trying to belittle the amount of human lives, but usually, news reports involve major events. Earthquakes that affect hundreds of thousands. Terrorists attacks in large cities. Diabolical masterminds bent on world domination. Not six people locked in a bank vault. It seems like a waste of my time.
However, Trey Underwood would disagree. He believes that every life counts, even if said life is lived by a jar of mayonnaise with the inability to think for itself. Unfortunately, that comprises most of the individuals on the planet.
Trey and I’ve been round and round on this, and he is adamant about their lives being valued. I only ever argue with him about it anymore to try and get a rise out of him. It doesn’t work, but I’m confident I’ll catch him on an off day, and the monk-like man will raise his voice or even use terse words. It’s a dream of mine. We all need them to keep going.
“There is my favorite person!” Aiden says too loudly over the music when I halt in his lab, still reading the report.
Somehow, these six jackfruits are locked inside of an old abandoned bank vault in Minneapolis. The security system hasn’t been operational for decades, so the authorities don’t know they are there. Getting the system back up and overriding the old controls would take more time than the people have. Their oxygen is running out. A normal Lucidite agent wouldn’t even be successful at this case, since getting to the vault would also take time, whether by traditional travel means or by using a GAD-C.
I guess it will have to be me who saves the fucking day…yet again.
Aiden is standing squarely in front of me, waiting for my attention. He can wait a bit longer though.
I flip through the report, deciding exactly how I want to handle this case. Sometimes when things are overly simple, that means they need a complex solution. The opposite is usually true. But something in this particular situation doesn’t add up, and I don’t know why, which is infuriating.
“I heard a rumor that you might be working the bank vault case,” Aiden says, teetering back and forth on his feet like a chimpanzee at the zoo who can’t figure out how to stand properly. “You need my help getting it opened? I’ve got a couple handy dandy options for you.”
Unrushed, I hold up a single finger to pause the scientist from polluting my brain any further with his useless chatter.
Why this case, I wonder. Usually the news reporters get a dozen cases every single day. Now, only one. But why this one?
When I finally pull my gaze up, I grimace at the scientist more than I would have expected. It isn’t because he’s wearing a repugnant grin, though he is doing that. It’s like his face is stuck with a dumb smile plastered across it. But no, to make him appear even more like a wanker, he’s wearing a small human attached to his chest in some sort of baby-carrying contraption. The child has Aiden’s same spiky, black hair and Roya’s eyes.
“What is that?” I ask, pointing at the boy.
Aiden laughs like I’ve told a joke. “Roya is busy working on something, so I have Max today. Since he started walking, he’s—”
“Don’t care,” I say, cutting him off.
“But you did ask why I had Max,” Aiden said, thrusting a victorious finger into the air.
“No, if you were paying the least bit of attention rather than lactating like a female gorilla, then you would have heard me clearly ask, ‘What is that?’ I was referring to your offspring, which you appear to be wearing because your penis has obviously fallen off.”
Aiden covers the drooling child’s ears, like it matters at all. “Roya and I believe in co-parenting, which means I take on half the respon—”
“Do you want me to kill myself?” I ask, quite seriously.
Aiden slams his mouth shut. Gives me a look of confusion. Shakes his head. “Well, no. You’re a wonderful person who may have a tough exterior, but I believe—”
“Then stop telling me about your family dynamics, or really anything about your personal business. Knowing the details of your life sends me into a downward spiral of depression that will surely only end with suicide.”
Aiden salutes like the moron that he is. “You got it, Captain. So, this bank vault business, eh? It’s sort of tricky, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t, but that’s because I do think,” I answer in a dull voice.
“Well, I only meant because we don’t know if there are explosives linked to the trigger for the unlocking mechanism,” Aiden explains. “It was brilliant for this person or group or whatever to use this particular vault, because—”
“What is the solution for freeing these people?” I ask, my patience gone.
At first, Aiden appears a bit deflated that I won’t let him drag on about science. Unfortunately, it’s nearly impossible to break his spirit. I’ve tried countless times.
He recovers quickly, flashing a smile. “So, my first idea was to override the—”
“I don’t care how you got to the solution,” I interrupt. “I’m not one of your nerdy friends who you play Dungeons and Dragons with on the weekend in your parents’ basement. I’m a man with a case to solve and, because God has it out for me, I’ve been forced to rely on you for a solution. Tell me what it is so I don’t have to look at your face any longer.”
Aiden chuckles. “I was just thinking that it’s been a while since we’ve seen each—”
“Unless you want that child of yours to learn some new vocabulary, give me the repulsive piece of technology that I’ll need to free those people,” I threaten. “Otherwise, little Billy is going to learn new names to call you.”
Because he wants me to kill him, Aiden laughs again. “His name is Max, actually. He’s named after…”
Thankfully, the chimp can be taught.
He straightens, grabbing a small black device off a workstation. “As I was about to say, this is probably the most effective and safest way to free the hostages.”
I’m about to grab it, but hesitate. “Will this give me cancer or fry my brain?”
“Anything can do that, depending on how it’s used,” he says with a dumb laugh.
“What does it do?” I ask.
“Since I can’t ascertain that unlocking the main door is safe, I think that cutting through the vault is the best way,” he begins. “Now, you might be saying to yourself, ‘But, Dr. Livingston, that will take forever.’”
“I’m not,” I say dully.
“Or you might be wondering how much equipment you’ll need in order to saw through at least two feet of steel,” Aiden continues.
“Still no,” I say.
“Well, thanks to some mind-blowing technology, all you have to do is draw the perimeters of what you want to cut out with this,” Aiden pulls a simple piece of chalk from his lab coat. “Then you stick this device as close as you can to the center of whatever you’ve drawn.”
He hands me the device and then eagerly rubs his hands together.
“Now, here’s the most exciting part!” he continues gleefully. “You don’t even hav
e to back that far away. Once the countdown finishes, a spark of light will run along the chalk line that you’ve drawn. It won’t make noise, emit an odor, or give off heat. Isn’t that great?”
“I guess,” I say with zero inflection, turning around and making for the exit.
I’m already looking forward to not being in the bright lab with music shredding my eardrums, when I come to an immediate halt. Standing in the doorway are two people. One I can’t stand, but respect greatly. The other one I can stand, but she needs to keep bending over backward to try and earn my favor.
“I told you he’d be here,” Roya says, a sullen expression on her face. “I figured he’d need Aiden’s help with the case.”
I roll my eyes at the young woman with long, blonde hair and probably enough psychic voltage in her head to light up the state of New York. Trey’s daughter had to go off and marry Aiden, making them the most annoying couple to have ever existed. That’s how people match, I guess. They have to be compatible on the same level of awfulness.
“I don’t need that lab rat’s help,” I say, a bite in my tone.
Roya points at the dumb device in my hands. “Then what’s that?”
“Something I’m thinking of using to kill you with,” I say.
She bats her eyelashes and scowls at me. “No you’re not, you need me.”
“To do what?” I ask. “You’re pretty worthless at giving news reports lately.”
“We’re stalled,” she states. “That’s all. The news reporters will be back in action soon.”
“Not if you keep standing around here wasting space, you won’t,” I fire back, sliding between Roya and the girl standing beside her, not making eye contact, although I sense she’s trying to bore a hole in my brain with her electric green eyes.
“Well, I delivered the report that you’ve got now,” Roya says at my back as I trot down the stainless-steel hallway. “You’re welcome!”
Galaxia Page 45
