Fire Starter (The Sentinels)

by David J Normoyle

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Fire Sorcerer – Chapter 1

  Fire Sorcerer – Chapter 2

  Fire Sorcerer – Chapter 3

  Fire Sorcerer – Chapter 4

  Author’s Note

  COPYRIGHT

  Fire Starter

  David J. Normoyle

  Rune Russell is a runaway from the orphanage trying to survive on the streets. When a mansion burns down, killing two people, and he is found on the grounds, not everyone accepts that he was merely seeking shelter. Rune is forced to investigate the cause of fire, and what he discovers will shake his worldview and change the course of his life.

  Fire Starter is a prequel novelette that sets the scene for the start of The Sentinels series. Books one and two of the series, Fire Sorcerer and Fire Summoning, have been released with books three and four, Fire Soldiers and Fire Serpent due in the near future.

  The first four chapters of Fire Sorcerer follows the prequel.

  Chapter 1

  Thursday 08:35

  The house at 102 Fenster Street stayed upright via pure stubbornness. Thick cords of ivy grew out of a crack that ran the full length of the building, and the left hand side of the roof dipped alarmingly. Two of the upstairs windows were boarded up. When I knocked, the few remaining flakes of red paint fell off the front door. A rusty hinge creaked and the door swung open. I glanced behind me, expecting a film crew to be shooting a horror movie.

  I touched the bare wood of the door, running my fingers along a diagonal crack, then pushed it fully open. “Anyone there?” I called out. The carpet in the hallway was sticky, and through the tears in the wallpaper various decades of pattern fashions were on display—beginning in the Great Depression, from the looks of things.

  It didn’t feel right to barge in, but I was going to be late for work if I didn’t hurry. I continued into the living room. “I’m supposed to be meeting Tyler and Pete,” I said to the room in general.

  The place smelt like ripe underwear. A pyramid of beer cans decorated the mantlepiece and half-empty fast food boxes were everywhere.

  I was about to exit again when I noticed a bearded man asleep on the couch. Chameleon-like, he had blended into the decor, even to the extent of having a plastic takeaway carton lying on his belly.

  “Hey!” I shouted to him.

  No response.

  I stepped up to him and poked him with a finger.

  He jerked at my touch but didn’t wake. I leaned down and gave him a good shake. This time he jumped to his feet, the takeaway carton spilling black sauce as it flipped to the floor. “Don’t kill me!” He started backward and almost tripped over a low table behind me. “Don’t kill me.”

  “Why would I kill you?”

  He looked around, confused. “What time is it?”

  “Nearly quarter to nine.” I was definitely going to be late for work. So much for making a good impression on my first week.

  He peered out the window. “Is it morning, dude? You woke me in the morning? That’s worse than killing me.” Strands of dank brown hair fell across his face. He wore a pink nightgown and purple crocs. Clearly a man who had decided not to chose life.

  “How can waking you be worse than killing you?”

  “Duuuude.” He stretched out the word as if that made it a sentence.

  “I don’t speak dude. Languages aren’t my strong suit.”

  He grunted and settled back into his place on the couch. “What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?”

  “I was told to speak to either Tyler or Pete about living in the upstairs attic room. You’re ...?”

  He glanced around the room. “Where’s Pete?”

  I took that to mean that he was Tyler. “I didn’t see anyone else here. So about the attic room?”

  “You’ll have to come back when Pete is here.”

  “I’m not going through this again.” I’d been effectively homeless for well over a year and I really wanted the room but I wasn’t going to dance for anybody. “You’ll just have to decide. Is the room mine or not?”

  “You probably won’t even want it. Have you seen it? It’s in a terrible state.”

  I glanced around the living room. “Worse than this?” I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take it whatever it’s like.” Normal landlords did background checks. I wouldn’t have passed one of those even before my name cropped up in the papers for my connection to the recent fire that had killed two people.

  “It’s been deserted a long time. The roof leaks and the walls are slick with green slime. The rats have taken over.”

  “I’ve dealt with rats before.” Of all types.

  “Not like these. Big as cats. What’s it called when they go feral and become sentient?”

  “I think rats are always feral. And I’ll believe they are sentient when I see them.”

  Tyler leaned forward toward the coffee table, brushing his hair from his face. He slid two cigarette papers from a packet, licked them and stuck them together. “Do you smoke?” He lifted a pinch of tobacco from a pouch and sprinkled it across the papers.

  “The waccy baccy? Is that a requirement for tenancy?”

  “It’s a requirement for life, dude. You have to expand your mind. Otherwise you’ll just see that they want you to see. The world is bigger than that.”

  “I get in enough trouble in my little world. I don’t need to expand to bigger ones.” I glanced at my watch again.

  Tyler searched the coffee table, sighed—presumably at not finding anything stronger than tobacco—then began to roll, his fingers moving with well practiced finesse. “Who are you again?”

  “Name’s Rune. Rune Russell.”

  “Sounds like a superhero game.”

  “I wear the red spandex at nighttime.”

  “I bet you do. You go, girl.”

  I smiled, and he smiled back. It felt like a genuine moment. Maybe, despite appearances, this arrangement was going to work out well for me. “So if I fix the roof I won’t have to pay rent?”

  “Rent, hells no. You’re not a capitalist, are you?” he said, aghast.

  “If it involves having money, then no.” I went to the door and looked around the hall and the living room. Decay was chewing the place up from the inside, and most of the furnishings looked older than me. Still, it had character. I figured I could get used to it. “Who owns this kip?”

  “We call it Ten-two,” Tyler said.

  I nodded. 102 Fenster Street. Ten-two. “Who owns Ten-two?”

  “Don’t know and don’t care. Squatter’s rights, baby.”

  “Cool. So no rent.”

  “You have to pay weed money.”

  “I don’t smoke.”

  “Dude, it’s for food, not for getting high.” At my quizzical look, he elaborated. “Takeaway food guys come here after their shift to get high, bringing all the leftovers from the night. We have pizza on Tuesday and Thursday, and Chinese...” He did some counting on his fingers, then gave up. “We have food most nights.”

  “Cool. So I’ll bring my gear this evening.” I could pretend I had stuff to bring. “We’re good?” I was always surprised when something went well.

  “Course.” Tyler sparked the lighter several times. It didn’t take. He shook it violently, then tried again. Still nothing. “What Duffy says goes.”


  I groaned. “Duffy’s behind this?” Connor Duffy was the policeman who’d interviewed me after the Collier Mansion burnt down the week before. He’d taken an interest in me ever since. “What was this whole song and dance about? You saying Pete has to be here. The stories about sentient rats.”

  “Dude, it’s not a story. I’m warning you, if the rats win I’m not retrieving your body.”

  “No one told me that Duffy set this up.” Connor Duffy, I’d discovered was more of a gangster than a cop. He wasn’t the kind of person who did favors without expecting something in return. Perhaps refusing the room was my best option. I glanced at my watch again, worked out how late I was going to be, then decided I would figure out what to do about the room afterward. “See you later,” I told Tyler. “It’ll be fun.”

  I ran out, jerking the front door closed behind me. It rebounded open. I pulled the door closed and when the same happened again, I just left it ajar. I raced down the steps and out the front gate, then turned at a shout.

  Tyler had his head and arms stuck out the window. “Remember to expand your mind, dude. The world is bigger than it seems.”

  Chapter 2

  Thursday 09:20

  “You’re late.”

  I’d hoped to get to my desk before having to deal with Findley. No such luck. He had been lurking at reception waiting to pounce.

  “I know. Sorry. I’ll make the time up.”

  “I’m not angry, you know. I’m disappointed. I took a chance on you despite my better instincts.”

  “I’ll get to work right this instant. Only twenty minutes lost.”

  “Twenty minutes multiplied by everyone in Transkey.” Findley was short and balding with tufts of red hair on the back and sides of his head. “Do you know how many man hours of productivity we have lost out on?”

  I glanced around and noticed for the first time that most of the employees were in the coffee room instead of at their desks. I’d thought Findley had jumped on my back because that was how he eked out pleasure in life. But it seemed something had happened.

  “What’s going on?”

  I moved swiftly through the office, Findley trailing behind. Every monitor I passed had a screensaver of burning flames. I reached my monitor and clicked it on. Red flames licked at my screen also. I pressed space on the keyboard and instead of the login screen, a ghost jumped into view with the words, “You got punked, bitch,” written across its translucent chest.

  “They’re all like that,” Findley said.

  “I guessed.” I reached into a drawer and took out a laptop that wasn’t in the system and booted it up.

  “Are you fixing it?” Findley was literally breathing on my neck.

  “No. I’m loading up World of Warcraft. Did you know that I’m a forty degree warrior-mage-demon?” I didn’t game but I could make up lingo with the best of them.

  “Do you know how much money Transkey loses for every minute we can’t access the computer system? Why did I let myself be persuaded to hire you?”

  I stopped typing and turned to face him. “I thought you decided to give me a chance despite your better instincts?” I should have known that was bullshit. Findley didn’t have any better instincts.

  Findley shrugged. “You are only twenty with a one year diploma in I.T. You wouldn’t have gotten a job like this without someone important putting in a good word for you.”

  “I see.” Of course I was really only seventeen and the diploma was fake. “Who really hired me?”

  “I can still fire you though if you prove incompetent.”

  He didn’t have to tell me who it was. I didn’t know anyone important so it could only be Connor Duffy who’d put in the word for me. “Being fired sounds wonderful,” I told Findley. It didn’t though. I’d enjoyed the week in Transkey and knew how difficult it was to get any work, never mind a job working with computers. If I couldn’t hold down a job, perhaps I’d turn into someone like Tyler. “I’ll fix this. You have to promise me though. If you ever see me wearing purple crocs, you’ll hire a warrior-demon-mage to kill me.”

  “What?”

  I remotely logged into the system and started checking what was going on. “The hackers haven’t gotten into the core systems.” Anyone capable of playing Angry Birds could have broken into Findley’s systems before I started. I had hardened security, but one week hadn’t been enough to patch all the holes.

  “Which means?”

  “I just have to change a few passwords, destroy some virus software, and everything will return to normal.” I glanced at the burning screensaver and was reminded of the fire at the Collier Mansion. A shiver ran down my back that wasn’t caused by Findley’s hot breath.

  Twenty minutes later, the login screens were back to normal.

  Findley stood up on a chair and even then managed to look short. “Everybody back to work,” he declared. “And we’ll all have to stay in an extra hour tonight.”

  A general groan rose up throughout the office.

  “You can all thank Rune here for that.”

  A chorus of bitter “Thank you, Rune” was muttered.

  Thank you, Findley. So far I hadn’t really fit in or made any friends, and Findley was helping to make sure that didn’t change.

  Findley returned to his office, allowing me to relax. I logged in and checked my email. A subject line jumped out at me. “ARSONIST. MURDERER.”

  I checked the sender. From CollierJustice at gmail dot com. What in the name of Beezlebub’s horns was going on? I glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then my fingers crept forward and I moved the pointer over the subject line of the email. I clicked.

  Three sentences.

  “This is just the start. We know you started the fire that killed the Colliers. You won’t get away with this.”

  Chapter 3

  Thursday 19:10

  It takes a policeman really comfortable in his own skin to use a doughnut shop as a headquarters. As I stood outside Bibi’s Donuts, waiting for permission to enter, I thought back to what I’d been told about Connor Duffy.

  Although technically still a beat cop, Duffy hadn’t worn a uniform or walked the beat in years. He rarely went into the police station, instead coming into the doughnut shop where he sat in a back corner, drank coffee, ate donuts and ran his empire. He had strong connections on both sides of the crime divide, though in Lusteer that dividing line tended to blur.

  The person who told me about Duffy had been Horace, one of my only friends from my time in Gorlam’s Orphanage. Though Horace had told me about the room in the squat house on Fenster Street and hadn’t mentioned that Duffy was behind it, so perhaps he wasn’t as much of a friend as I’d thought.

  The door opened, and a thin man walked out. The man who held the door open nodded at me and I walked in past him. Duffy sat alone at a table in the back corner with a coffee and doughnut in front of him. In the tables around him, several other men were gathered, clearly Duffy’s minions. They stared darkly at me as I walked past them.

  “What brought Rune down upon us?” Duffy stood up with a chuckle and held out his hand.

  I reluctantly shook his hand.

  “A weak handshake,” he said.

  “I don’t like handshakes,” I told him, by which I meant I didn’t like shaking the hands of those who wanted to control me.

  “We all have to do things we don’t like,” Duffy said.

  “The key is doing it as little as possible.”

  Duffy chuckled again. He gestured to the men at the other tables. “Wise beyond his years, this young one.” None of the men cracked a smile. “Or maybe too smart for his own good.”

  “Smart enough to not want any help from you.”

  The skin around his eyes tightened. “I’m a simple man. I see the world in black and white, friends and enemies. Most people I meet are smart enough to not want to be an enemy.” He sat down and gestured to the seat opposite. “Sit. Tell me why you are here.”

  I sat. Duffy wa
s doughnut-powered—in a good way. He was big and bulky with shoulders that were hunched over and rounded like a bull’s. His face was well fleshed out and larger than life just like the rest of him. He’d probably break a blood-pressure meter, and he wouldn’t be found on any marathon starting lines, but if someone got into a fight with him, they’d hope to have twenty-six miles between them before it started. Or I would, at least.

  “I came to tell you that I don’t need your help,” I said.

  Duffy took a sip of coffee. “Of course you don’t. But everything’s easier when we work together. Two people carrying the piano, you know. That’s the secret of my success.”

  “Success? Aren’t you just a crummy beat cop?” My big mouth tends to get me into trouble whenever I’m faced with authority figures.

  Chairs scraped back as several of the men moved to stand up, but Duffy raised his hand, and they sat back down again. “Careful now,” he said to me.

  “I’ll give up the job and not take the room in the squat house.”

  “You think it’s that easy? You then won’t owe me anything? After the Collier Mansion fire some of my colleagues wanted to arrest you, but I smoothed things over.”

  “I had nothing to do with the fire,” I said sharply.

  “You were still trespassing on private property.”

  I couldn’t deny that. Homeless, I had been staying in a treehouse on the Collier grounds. “What’s the connection between the Collier Mansion fire and Gorlam’s Orphanage?” I asked. Although I had spent most of the day improving the security of Findley’s systems, I had also managed to track down the hacker. To my surprise, the IP address of the attacker had originated at the orphanage.

  Duffy smiled, jolliness returning to his face. “I thought you weren’t in the favor asking business?”

  “I shouldn’t have come.” I stood and turned to go. Two men moved to block my path.

  Duffy gave a slight shake of his head and the men sat down again.

  “Alex and Jo Collier are in Gorlam’s. They are listed under the name Wilson because the case was so high profile.”

  I had checked the staff and inmate lists of the orphanage, searching for Collier and Wyndham—the maiden name of Alice Collier—and found nothing. “Thanks.”