Guardian

by Matthew S. Cox

  Kirsten tapped her hand on the counter three times fast. “Oliver.”

  He snapped upright. “Wabobo?”

  “Wake up, Oliver.” She tried to snap her fingers, but it didn’t work well in the armored glove.

  “Oh. Hey Agent Wren.” He smiled and rubbed sleep crumbs out of his eyes. “Crap. Sorry, Lieutenant. Congrats!”

  “Thanks. Hey I need you to help me out with a case.” She fished out her NetMini and opened the Inquest file. “Can you run a DNA comparison against a couple of stray organs? I’m hoping the body came here.”

  “Sure.” He yawned, stretched, cracked his knuckles, and wiggled his fingers like a maestro about to play a piano concerto. “Give me a sec to get into the system.” Four widescreen holo-panels shimmered into being around him, each a deep, royal blue. “Okay. Hit me.”

  Kirsten flicked data from her NetMini at his terminal including the DNA profile from the kidneys and heart she’d gotten from Easley, plus a file on Lamb’s liver transplant Sam had ‘stumbled across.’

  Oliver poked, typed, and swiped, rearranging images onto the rightmost screen. “Well, it looks like all of these organs are from the same body.”

  “I knew that already.” She smiled. “Is that body here? Can you give me a name?” Come on. Please. She looked up at the ceiling. If you guys are listening, I could use a little nudge.

  “Might take a minute. You want some coffee?” Oliver stood.

  She pulled herself up to sit on the counter. “Yeah, sure.”

  He hurried off to a vending machine between the bathrooms, down the same hall leading to the office where Hassan had shot himself in the head… or at least whatever that creature was who looked like a human named Eli Hassan. Kirsten swung her feet, idly thumping her boot heels into the Epoxil face of the desk. Distant whirring of the coffee machine foaming the brew broke the silence.

  Oliver returned with two cups, sat, and slid one to her. He leaned back, taking a huge gulp from his cappuccino, seeming immune to its heat, and smiled a milk froth moustache up at her. “Looks like you’ve got the luck of angels. How long have you been on Earth?”

  Dorian rolled his eyes. “At least he didn’t ask if it hurt when you fell.”

  “Nice try. I only rent the wings.” She sipped. For a ‘sem in a morgue, it wasn’t too bad. “Does that mean you got a name?”

  “Yep. Looks like this guy came in about five weeks ago. Charles Prentice, age thirty-five.” He swatted something from his screen at her, and a chirp sounded from her NetMini. “According to the file, they found him in a grey zone by chance while doing a burn and purge on a Lace lab.”

  “Still in a freezer?” She tapped the NetMini’s screen, and a small panel appeared showing the face of a pallid man with short, black hair and green eyes. Despite his somewhat ghoulish coloration, he looked happy.

  “Nope. He’s got a sister. She claimed the ashes as soon as we finished the autopsy.”

  “Can’t imagine that took long,” said Dorian with a smirk. “Guy was as hollow as Nicole’s head.”

  She swiped at Dorian with a playful slap. “Leave her alone. She’s just got excess energy.”

  Oliver flicked his gaze up to her without moving anything but his eyeballs. “Ghost?”

  “Yep. Thanks for the assist, Oliver.” She slid off the counter and turned to face him. “Let me know if I can ever do anything for you, okay?”

  “Dinner and a movie?” He smiled.

  She cringed. “I’m not sure my boyfriend would go for that… but if you wanna hang out?”

  “Story of my life.” He leaned back in his chair, hands draped in his lap. “Take care of yourself, Lieutenant.”

  “You too.” She felt bad for him, to the point her walk back to the elevator slowed. Once the doors closed, she glanced at Dorian. “Maybe I should try to set him up with Adrienne.”

  Dorian raised an eyebrow. “That’s mean. What did Oliver do to you?”

  “Will you stop?” She glared at him. “She’s no different than if she’d been born a woman. Genetic surgery, remember. She can even have babies.” Kirsten bit her lip with a mischievous grin and used her NetMini to set up a three-way chat, typing: “Hey Adrienne. This is Oliver.”

  “Don’t you have enough to do?” He chuckled. “And why her?”

  “They’re both lonely and really sweet. Plus I don’t know many other single women.”

  Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t she have herself made sixteen again?”

  Kirsten cringed. Shit. She cancelled the chat before sending the message. “Uhh… okay, good point. Way too creepy.”

  He nodded. “Just a little.”

  After stowing the Psi Armor in her locker, Kirsten slipped back into her thin black uniform and sprinted to her desk. Three Cajun chicken salads (extra tomatoes in one) sat next to her terminal with a note from Nicole reading ‘you have to try this place and I know you love xtra tomz’. She unlocked her terminal and started a data crawl on Charles Prentice before sending Evan a text:

  ‹In the building. Want me to meet you at the school?›

  ‹5 mins of class left. Nah, we’ll come up.›

  She found it hard to resist the smell of the food, but managed to hold off while watching animated gears turn. Soon, Evan ran in dragging his backpack and flopped in the interviewee chair next to her desk. Shani followed at his heels, and telekinetically moved him over so they could both sit in the chair. They ate and chatted about the day at school while the search ran. Evidently, some big kid named Shawn who’d started off bullying him had decided to become friends. Evan wanted to know if he could come over some day to hang out. She didn’t see any problem with that and gave him a nod, to which he grinned.

  Information panels opened on the screen, containing every recorded bit of information the UCF had on Charles Prentice. For the four years prior to his death, he’d worked for a company named OnSite! – a subsidiary of ComTec International. Charles went to homes and businesses doing miscellaneous tech work on everything from NetMinis to terminals, to game systems, audio-video hardware, and high-end holographic alternate reality suites.

  “Hang on, kiddo. Need to make a call.”

  Evan nodded, continuing to shovel chicken, croutons, and lettuce into his face. Shani amused herself by using telekinesis to levitate individual pieces of salad to her mouth one at a time.

  Kirsten placed an outbound Vid to Prentice’s former employer.

  A company logo rendered in mirror silver appeared. “You have reached OnSite!, a subsidiary of ComTec International. How may we direct your call?”

  “Human resources. This is an official contact from Division 0, National Police Force.”

  “One moment,” said the artificial woman’s voice.

  The logo screen went black, and a coffee-toned face appeared above a cheap indigo suit. “Human resources, Bradley speaking. Thank you for calling OnSite!, a division of ComTec International.”

  “They’ve got to be required to say that.” Dorian pulled at his hair.

  “Hi Bradley. I’m Lieutenant Wren with Division 0. I have some questions about a former employee of yours. Charles Prentice?”

  The man hummed to himself for a few seconds. “Lieutenant, there may be an issue here. We’re currently engaged in legal action with his next of kin. It’s a warrantless claim, but they are insinuating that OnSite!, a subsidiary of ComTec International, put him at undue risk by sending him on his last assignment.”

  “I’m trying to track down the people who killed him. There is reason to believe that Mr. Prentice was targeted specifically, and that reason is unrelated to OnSite.”

  “A subsidiary of ComTec International,” said Dorian.

  She shot him a glare.

  Evan giggled.

  “If I’m able to resolve this case, I’m sure it will prove that he would’ve been killed regardless of anything your company did.”

  “I can certainly help you with that Lieutenant.” Bradley glanced at a screen to the left.
He didn’t move as if typing, which attracted Kirsten’s notice to a thin silver wire draped down from behind his left ear. “Mr. Prentice was found dead some time ago. Sad. His employment record is exemplary except for one complaint, but we disregarded it.”

  “Oh?” She tilted her head.

  “The last record in his file is a complaint from a customer saying that he never showed up or called. We believe the cause to be his untimely death, so we struck the complaint from his record.”

  “How nice of them.” Dorian rolled his eyes.

  “He was killed while on his way to an assignment? Where was the job?”

  Bradley’s glance shifted. “872 City Road 2444. Apartment 22-04. Sector 6796.”

  Kirsten brought up a sector map and grumbled. That address sat about ten miles southwest from the grey area spreading out from the black zone where Mardrake worked in Sector 6903. “Well, that’s not particularly insightful, but it does back up my theory. Thank you, Bradley. Can you please send me that file?”

  “I can certainly help you with that, Lieutenant.” Bradley shifted his gaze to her. “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

  “Can you possibly display a unique personality?” asked Dorian.

  Evan sprayed lettuce bits on a laugh before he could get a hand over his mouth. Kirsten ruffled his hair, adoring the way the psionic energy glimmered within his eyes. That she couldn’t take him home right that second and enjoy a relaxing evening hurt. “No, that’s it. Thank you.”

  Bradley blinked and gawked at her. “Uhh…”

  Kirsten tilted her head at him for a second before she noticed four croutons orbiting her head like tiny moons.

  “Thank you for calling OnSite!, a subsidiary of ComTec International.” Bradley hung up.

  Shani cracked up laughing; her concentration gone, the food fell to the floor.

  “What now?” asked Dorian.

  “I need to go talk to the sister…” She swiped a few data pages across her screen. “Laney. Hmm. Still Prentice. Guess she never married.”

  “You could set her up with Oliver.” Dorian winked.

  Kirsten rolled her eyes.

  “Shani’s gonna be stuck in the dorm tonight. Nila’s on a stakeout.” Evan swung his sneakers back and forth. “Guess you can’t take me with you?”

  “I don’t know what could happen there, Ev. I’m sorry. I can’t risk you getting hurt. You know I hate it when I have to work late.”

  The sadness in his expression retreated to a somber smile. “No, you don’t. You hate leavin’ me alone, but you love helping people.”

  She hugged him. “I’ll pick you two up in a little bit, ‘kay? Shani can sleep over.”

  “Really?” Shani blinked.

  Kirsten patted her on the head. “Of course… as often as Nila lets Evan stay with you guys, it’s not even a question.”

  “Okay.” Evan hopped up and kissed her on the cheek before heading for the squad room door, pulling Shani by the hand. “Be safe.”

  “Hey, where are you going?” She cocked an eyebrow.

  “Uhh, the dorms.” He shrugged.

  “Let me walk you down.”

  He grinned. “‘Kay.”

  irsten drove a little fast for not being Code 3, but Division 1 did it all the time… and faster, so she didn’t let it bother her much. A few close calls with advert bots got her palms sweaty. Nothing existed but the twin yellow light trails on the windscreen display and moving objects she might bump into. She followed the navigation assist to the home of Laney Prentice.

  Dorian kept quiet for the ride, protesting her speed with a hand over his eyes rather than words.

  Worry about Evan stalked her. What is in his room? Is this Konstantin seeping back into the world? Ev never liked him… Revenge? No… Giving kids nightmares could be an ordinary jackass move from some random new ghost.

  “Promise me you won’t kill this woman?” Dorian lifted his fingers enough to look at her.

  “I’m thinking about Evan. Keep going back to worst-case scenario. Konstantin trying to get revenge on him for snapping me out of his charm… or some abyssal…”

  “If it was that, you’d have definitely felt something.”

  She exhaled. “Yeah. You’re right.”

  A few minutes later, she guided the patrol craft through a wide portal in the side of the building at the fifty-fourth floor. This residence tower had a ‘garden roof’ instead of a parking deck. Three stories at the midway point of the tower contained internal parking for hovercars. After finding a spot, she followed her armband computer’s arrow to the elevator, and apartment 99-20.

  The door squeaked to the side, revealing a wan woman pale enough to pass for a Marsborn, her skin pure white, devoid of even the slightest hint of color. Dark green eyes regarded Kirsten with a measure of resignation, as if she lacked the energy to protest whatever the police wanted to do to her. Ebon hair framed a delicate face that reminded her a bit of Marguerite, though this woman looked less perfect―more like a real person than a sculpture of idealized beauty. An oversized beige angora sweater engulfed most of her body, two slim strands, black leggings, led down to bare feet.

  “Can I help you?” Her voice had more depth than expected given her size, but also carried palpable sorrow.

  “Miss Prentice?”

  The woman nodded.

  “I’m Lieutenant Wren, Division 0. I’m investigating the matter of your brother’s death. Can we talk?”

  “Wow. I thought they’d given up on Charlie. Come in.” Laney walked away from the door, heading for the back of the apartment. “I suppose I should offer you coffee or tea or something?”

  “That’s not necessary.” Kirsten entered, watching the door until it closed with a soft hiss. The smell of hours-old Earl Grey lingered in the air, dueling with something floral.

  Laney aborted her fast walk to the kitchen and diverted to a dull blue sofa facing a holographic fireplace flanked by huge potted plants with leaves speckled two shades of green. Kirsten sat at the woman’s left.

  “The police have already said they have nothing to go on, and don’t expect to ever find who killed Charlie.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Prentice.” Kirsten folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t enjoy dredging up bad feelings or memories, but I want you to know I’m trying to help.”

  “You’re one of those psionics, aren’t you?” A hint of contempt underscored her voice, helped along by a ‘get away from me’ lean.

  Kirsten’s guilt at possibly causing emotional pain lessened. “Yes.”

  Laney seemed to let her brain take this in, chew on it, and blow fragments of thought out the other side of her head. “Well. I suppose since the normal police can’t do anything, I’ll take any help I can get. Do you really think you can find who did this?”

  Dorian went for a walkabout.

  “I don’t want this to be any more unpleasant than it has to be given the subject matter. Might I ask why you dislike psionics?”

  “I was molested by one when I was thirteen.” Laney looked away. “I knew he was forcing me to do those things, but I couldn’t stop.”

  Kirsten’s gut turned into a lead weight. “I’m so sorry.”

  Laney stared at the rug for a while. “They got him. He’s dead now… something happened to him in prison. I suppose I should be noble and not expect the worst of all of you. I… Charlie kept me going. I don’t know what I’m going to do now that he’s gone.”

  “Miss Prentice… Nothing I can say will change what happened to you. I don’t want to upset you, but Charles isn’t quite gone.”

  “What?” Laney glared at her. “What are you talking about?”

  Multiple cats in the distance shrieked, hissed, and yowled.

  “Oh, babies!” Laney jumped up. “Excuse me.”

  Kirsten closed her eyes. “Your cats are okay. Trust me.”

  Laney looked between her and an interior archway for a few seconds before sitting again. “Are
you sure?”

  “Nothing here,” said Dorian, emerging from the wall by the kitchen. “She’s got the urn though… and she’s storing enough chemicals to keep a forest preserve operational. Oh, and about thirteen cats. I’m guessing she doesn’t go out much.”

  Kirsten cringed, and gave him a ‘not now’ glare. He raised his hands and backed off.

  “What’s going on?” Laney looked at the general area where Dorian stood. “What are you staring at?”

  “Your brother was murdered, I suspect by a man who wanted to take organs for illegal sale.”

  Laney gasped; hand on her mouth, tears welled up.

  “I’m an Astral Sensitive, Miss Prentice. I deal with paranormal events, ghosts primarily. I believe your brother is still here and he’s attempting to harm other people who received his parts.”

  “I hope they die screaming.” Laney scowled. “Bastards.”

  Kirsten bit her lip to stay calm. “Most of the people… possibly all of them have no idea what happened. I only found Charles’s name a few hours ago, and I’ve been hunting for this spirit for quite a while now.”

  “That stupid company he worked for sent him to a shitty area. They never should’ve let him go so close to all those bad people. If he had a real job, he’d still be alive.” She crunched her hands together, making fists inside her sweater sleeves.

  “I need to help him before he kills someone. There are things worse than death out there and I understand why he’s angry. He deserves to be angry. I want to get the people who killed him and help him rest, but he won’t talk to me. He keeps running away.”

  Laney frowned at her, red eyes glaring. “You’re expecting me to believe this?”

  “Allow me.” Dorian walked up and shimmered transparent.

  “Eeee!” Laney leapt back against the sofa.

  His body returned to its usual solid appearance. “Hmm. I was trying to project calmness.”

  “Laney… that’s my partner, Dorian. He won’t hurt you.”

  The woman shivered. “That wasn’t a hologram, was it? I… felt him looking at me.”

  “No. Spirits exist, and right now, I need your help to find one in particular. You have Charles’s remains?”