Summoned Chaos

by Joshua Roots

  The van was launched up on end before crashing back down onto the pavement. Coolant flooded the street, filling the pavement with rivers of green liquid.

  With the exception of the guy who’d come to my rescue, everyone around me stared in horror at the grisly scene. The everyday hero, however, ran over to the destroyed vehicle. He knelt, peering around the front, but recoiled in horror. He staggered away from the carnage, then vomited into the grass.

  Concerned for both my helper and the victims in the van, I staggered across the street. The man hurled again as he leaned around the front of the vehicle.

  I nearly threw up as well.

  The grass was littered with cameras, bags of equipment and a shattered tablet. Glass covered the ground, glistening in the pools of coolant and blood.

  The faces of the shattered bodies were barely recognizable, but there was no mistaking the long feather braided into Tessa’s blond ponytail.

  “Why?” I whispered to the bodies as the world continued to spin. As I pulled away, I saw a tremor. Hope that they were somehow still alive changed to horror as the skin on Tessa’s face sagged. Her perky breasts slid down her chest and her clothes rippled until all that remained was the hairy, yellow corpse. The second figure shuddered as well, returning to its original form.

  “What the hell?” I muttered, staring at the mangled bodies of Mimics.

  Chapter Ten

  Putting the “Search” in “Research”

  The bright light hurt my eye, stabbing at it with unrelenting fury. I winced, but forced it to stay open. The light moved to my left pupil, causing it to tear up. Finally the mini-sun clicked off.

  “All good,” the doctor said as I rubbed the spots from my vision.

  “So I’ll live?”

  “For now, yes. You’re very lucky, you know that?”

  I put a hand to the tender spots on my head. “Not sure I agree with you there, Doc.”

  The woman arched an eyebrow, then glanced at my chart. “Mild concussion, superficial facial lacerations, and sprains to both wrists. Those all may be painful, but don’t forget that you walked away from the crash. The people in the van didn’t.”

  “Those weren’t people,” I muttered, still angry and confused over the presence of the Mimics. What the hell were they doing coming after me?

  She fixed me with a severe glare. “Well, whatever they were, they’re on ice now. You, however, get to go home to your family.”

  I blinked, startled by her admonishing tone. But she had a good point and I cursed myself for taking my luck for granted.

  “Sorry,” I said quietly.

  She relaxed slightly, then slid my chart into the plastic folder thingy mounted on the door. “Take care of yourself, Mr. Shifter.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” I said, but she was already gone.

  I dressed, then dug through the small bag of personal belongings on the counter. Thankfully, my phone had survived the crash.

  The “nurse” appeared a few minutes later with a wheelchair. A huge man in crisp scrubs, he was built like a bear with hands the size of catcher’s mitts and skin as dark as midnight.

  “What are you doing up here?” I asked with a grin.

  The man smiled as he helped me off the bed. “Escorting your sorry, broken ass down to the lobby.”

  “You’re supposed to stick to dead bodies.”

  LaDell Edgars, the local coroner and my good friend, laughed. “Considering how badly banged up you are, you’re close enough.”

  “Fair enough. But I can walk. No need for the chair.”

  LaDell crossed his massive arms. “Hospital policy. Sit, or I make you.”

  I reluctantly eased into the chair.

  “It sucks that it’s taken a major car crash for us to get together,” he said as he wheeled me down the hall.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry,” I replied, feeling guilty. “It’s been a busy few months.”

  “So I’ve heard. Sounds like it got really interesting recently.”

  I grunted. “You could say that.”

  We stopped at an elevator and LaDell pressed the down button.

  I twisted to face him. “Any chance I can see the bodies of the other victims from the crash.”

  “I never got them.”

  That was odd. “You always pick up the unusual stiffs.”

  The coroner scowled. “Apparently some of your own people were waiting here to recover the bodies. As soon as my boys arrived, they were ordered to shove the bags into a Skilled van. Stiff-armed me on the paperwork too. Something I should know about?” he asked in a low voice.

  Red flags went off in my mind. The Council usually didn’t care who stored paranormal corpses, so why the sudden interest? And why all the secrecy?

  The only explanation that made sense was that there was evidence of some sort on the Mimics.

  Because our powers required so much emotion and energy, the spells we weaved left imprints similar to magical fingerprints of the practitioner. So if the person who sent me the threatening text was the same one who’d manipulated the Mimics to kill me, there’d be all sorts of proof on the bodies.

  Proof that might also tie them to the attack at HQ.

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” I said, burning with fury as the pieces slowly fit together in my mind. “But the randomness of this just evaporated. Someone thinks I know something and tried to take me out of the equation.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  I set my jaw. “I’m going to deal with it. Starting with the bodies.”

  “You let me know if you find anything. The dead are my business and I hate being left out of the loop.”

  “Deal.”

  LaDell pushed me into the waiting room that was packed with people. As we entered, Arbent stood and walked over.

  “Damn, Shifter,” he said, whistling.

  “It looks worse than it feels.”

  LaDell helped me out of the chair. I shook the large man’s hand. “It was great seeing you.”

  “Likewise, dude. Let’s not wait till you get thrashed again to talk. Maybe we grab a beer when you get back from New York? You can tell me all about your time on Falls.”

  “I’d like that,” I said, earnestly.

  “It’s a date. Mind the crazies out there,” he added, glancing at the small crowd of media people that had gathered in the parking lot opposite the main door. Then he vanished back inside.

  “So, you’re my ride, eh?” I asked Arbent, silently condemning him for the abuse he’d heaped upon the rattling, dented Mustang waiting for us outside. You just didn’t do that to a classic.

  “Yup. Your dad wanted me to bring you to their place. Those your groupies?” he added, peering at the camera flashes.

  I nodded, trying to ignore the shouts of questions about the accident. Mindful of my role as poster-boy, I waved.

  “That must be fun.”

  “It’s really not,” I grumbled.

  He shrugged. “Better you than me.”

  I glared at him.

  “You can get the door yourself, by the way,” he said, walking around to the driver’s side. I creaked open the door and eased gingerly into the passenger seat. When I was belted in, Arbent revved the engine and pulled out of the circular drive of the Wellington Memorial Hospital, leaving an inch of rubber on the pavement. The media hounds snapped photos as we departed in a cloud of white smoke.

  As we turned onto the main road, Arbent gave me a sideways glance. “Man, you look awful.”

  “Just one of the many benefits of being a Combat Warlock.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  We rode in silence, listening to the clanking of the engine. I had a lot of respect for Arbent—except in the field of car maintenance. A ‘66 Fastback deserved more love.

  But we’d been down that road a thousand times and bringing it up wouldn’t do either of us any good.

  I decided to make a phone call instead.

  “Marcus?” Andrew asked, picki
ng up on the second ring.

  “Hey.”

  I heard him sigh with relief. “I cannot begin to express how relieved I am that you’re okay. What did the doctors say?”

  “Just a lot of bruising and lacerations, but thankfully no concussion or broken bones. My pretty face took the brunt of the beating. My car fared much worse. I don’t want to think about the repair bill.” A small piece of me cried just remembering the image of the Gray Ghost all banged up.

  “Listen,” Andrew said, bypassing pleasantries, “I’ve spoken with the producers of the Late Nite Show. They agreed to let Elsa appear alone, but they still want you. I negotiated for next Monday. The Council may not like that it’s after the Reformation Ball, but it ensures you have time to recover.”

  Relief. Being on camera, especially with a studio audience, wasn’t my idea of a fun time, so at least the pain was delayed. It was the only good thing that came out of the accident.

  Andrew took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Apparently you didn’t listen when I said to be careful.”

  “Not my fault,” I said defensively. “Those things came after me.”

  “I understand, but it does add an extra layer of complication to things. And before you ask, yes, my people are already covering the media exposure of the incident. Obviously it’s impossible to pretend it didn’t happen, so we’ll figure a way to spin this the right way. While I work on your official version of the story, just keep a little humor about it. Or simply avoid talking at all.”

  “I really like the second option,” I said, relaxing a little. No communication was more my speed anyway.

  “Good. Now then, you go rest up so you’re presentable. Both for the ball and for the Late Nite Show on Monday. I’ll call you when there’s something more to talk about.”

  “Sounds good. And Andrew? Thanks.”

  “It’s what I get paid for,” he said. “But you’re welcome anyway.”

  I hung up. Arbent gave me a questioning look.

  “My PR guy.”

  “You have a PR guy?”

  I frowned. “Why does everyone seem shocked by this?”

  “Actually, out of everyone I know, you’re the only one who needs someone like that.”

  I glared at him.

  “You know, because you always say the wrong thing.”

  “Yes,” I said coldly. “I got it.”

  Arbent smirked, obviously pleased with himself. “So, what’s the shortest route to your folks’ place from here?”

  “We’re not going to the Homestead.”

  He scowled. “Your dad was specific.”

  “That can wait, I have something I need to do first.”

  “Oh?”

  “First, we swing by my place,” I said flatly. “I need to pick something up. Then we’re going to HQ.”

  “HQ? Why?”

  I clenched my fist. “Because it’s high time I found some answers to exactly what the hell is going on.”

  * * *

  “This is a terrible, terrible idea,” Arbent muttered a half hour later as we walked away from the security checkpoint at HQ. Most of the debris from the initial Mimic attack had been cleared, but the contractors hadn’t fixed the cracks in the drywall or the damage to the security desk. I could feel the eyes of the two new Normal guards burning holes into our backs. I hoped that my friendly request to not log us into the system would be honored.

  “You didn’t have to come along,” I said evenly. “I was more than prepared to take a cab home.”

  He shook his head. “In the past week you’ve nearly been killed three times. Once by a creature from another realm and twice at the hands of Mimics.” He jabbed a finger at me. “You need me to come along.”

  “Then stop complaining.”

  Arbent muttered a curse, but didn’t argue.

  HQ was a buzzing hive of activity. Like most workdays, the halls were filled with the usual array of senior bureaucrats and their desperate strap-hangers. The majority of the policy-makers were too busy with their day-to-day tasks to notice me and Arbent, but I wasn’t going to bet the farm on it. Instead, I pulled Arbent into a side hall, through a set of empty conference rooms, and down a long staircase to the basement level.

  We pushed through a set of large double doors and into an enormous room that smelled of musty leather. Enormous bookshelves packed with ancient tomes littered the room while the heavy feeling of silence pressed against us. Near the front a plump Witch with graying, blond hair sat behind a circular desk.

  “Hi, Gloria,” I said as we entered the Research Library. “Good to see you again.”

  The librarian set down the massive tome she was reading. “Marcus, it’s been forever!” She grimaced when she saw me. “You look terrible. Was that from the attack?”

  “Car accident.”

  “Oh my, you have the worst luck lately.”

  I shrugged. “Disasters happen in threes, so between the rift, the Mimics and the crash, Karma and I are squares for a while.”

  “Maybe you should take better care of yourself.”

  “I try, but it never seems to work.”

  She laughed. “Who’s your friend?”

  The fact that she recognized me and not Arbent was a testament to the amount of time I’d spent in the library the past few months. I was betting I’d logged hundreds of hours scouring the various tomes for information about Fawkes’s trial. Although, I’d been a stranger the last few weeks thanks to all the fun I’d been having with rifts.

  “This is Arbent, Combat Warlock Extraordinaire,” I said. “Arbent, may I present the lovely Gloria Stein, Librarian Extraordinaire.”

  “Oh you.” She batted me playfully on the arm. “So are you here to just butter me up or do you need me to pull your normal stable of tomes?”

  “Actually, I need access to the super-secret stuff.”

  “Marcus, you know that’s restricted access. Much as I love you, dear, I can’t risk my job to grant you such a favor.”

  I grinned. “Good thing I have the top clearance level now.”

  Her eyes widened with surprise. “Really?”

  “Haven’t been issued my new ID yet, but you can check my records if you like.”

  Gloria waved a dismissive hand. “No, I trust you.”

  Never underestimate the power of Weapons-Grade Charm. Not that I’d needed it, thanks to Elder Devon, but it was nice to know I could have charmed my way into the library.

  “And what about you?” she asked, turning to Arbent.

  “I’ll just kill time out here.”

  The librarian smiled. “In that case, Marcus, you’re all set.”

  “Thanks, Gloria.” I walked around the desk and headed for the bookshelves.

  “Hold up.” The woman placed a basket next to the ledger. “You know better than to go charging into the library.”

  “Sorry, I forgot.”

  I dumped my old phone and motioned for Arbent to do the same. He pulled his ancient flip-cell out of his robes and reluctantly set it next to mine. Gloria tucked the basket back under the desk.

  “This way,” she said, coming out from behind the desk. I gave Arbent a quick wink, then followed the librarian to the back of the main room. We weaved through the tall bookshelves, winding past old, wooden tables that were mostly unoccupied.

  Passing through the books I had a sense of déjà vu. The Research Library reminded me of Nicholas Strange’s old bookshop in the Underground. He was a good guy doing his best to raise his granddaughter alone. I still regretted that I’d used him for information, and thereby closed the door on our friendship for good, but at the time, I’d had no choice.

  Sometimes I wanted to swing by, just to say hello. But I’d made a promise to stay away. In the Underground, you lived longer by keeping a low profile and having a Shifter poking around your shop drew all sorts of attention he didn’t want or need.

  Gloria swiped her card through a small reader by a heavy door. It unlocked with a thunk. She entered, hold
ing the door open as I followed.

  The interior was small compared to the enormous library on the other side. The low ceiling and overflowing shelves made it feel cramped. Several tables sat unused in the middle, while a bank of enormous monitors lined a far wall.

  “Here you go,” Gloria said. “This area holds the majority of classified Council material. Tomes and books are on the shelves, microfiche and Library computer banks against the far wall over there.”

  “Can those machines access the entire library database from here?”

  She nodded. “They can, but these will also allow you to patch into the confidential database. Since you don’t have an access card yet, I’ll get you a temporary pass code. One second.” She vanished back into the main hall and appeared a minute later with a scrap of paper. “Please shred that when you’re done.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anything in particular I can help you with?”

  I shook my head. “I have an inkling of what I’m searching for, but need to figure out where to start. I’ll let you know if I need assistance.”

  “Have fun.” She closed the door, leaving me in total silence.

  The first hour of research was spent digging through the main database for anything on Mimics. As I’d suspected, there wasn’t much I didn’t already know. Solitary creatures by nature, they only gathered in groups during the winter mating season. A normally skittish species, they fed off the death and decay of the world around them, thriving in places of disaster. They all but vanished during the major rounds of purging and were thought extinct by my people for nearly five hundred years.

  Eventually Skilled scientists realized that that Mimics hadn’t been wiped out, but rather had mastered the art of adaptation. Depending on the situation, they could blend in almost perfectly with other species. And as the world modernized, so too did the requirements for Mimics to continue hiding.

  As such, they could copy movements or actions, like, say, how to drive a car.

  But unlike the Mimics I’d dealt with recently, historical evidence supported the theory that they were passive. When challenged, they almost always fled. There were only a handful of cases of violence by the creatures and every single one of them was because they were either defending their young or they were provoked.