The Grendel Affair: A SPI Files Novel

by Shearin, Lisa

  “Not your twin, Agent Fraser. Your doppelganger.”

  “My what?”

  “A doppelganger is the paranormal double of a living person,” Sagadraco said.

  “I’ve been xeroxed?” I heard myself ask.

  “Historically to see one’s doppelganger was a harbinger of death. In modern times, they are often used to take the place of a person for nefarious purposes.”

  “Framing me for corporate treason is plenty nefarious.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “And this thing is so perfectly me that it replicated my handprint well enough to get in and out of headquarters?”

  “A doppelganger assumes not only the appearance of its victim, but all of its mannerisms and thought processes as well,” Moreau added. “A perfect copy.”

  “Thankfully for me, minus the powdered sugar.”

  “An experienced doppelganger can easily convince even a victim’s closest associates,” Sagadraco said. “We’ve been infiltrated more cleverly than I ever suspected.”

  “If the traitor is a shapeshifter who looks like me, then who took that picture in the break room of me eating cookies?” I asked. “I think I would have noticed if my twin was standing ten feet in front of me clicking away with her phone. Someone else would have noticed, too.”

  “The angle at which it was taken suggests that the photographer was standing outside the door,” Moreau said, “just to the left—an area that is not covered by the security camera. It is doubtful that is a coincidence. This thing knows our security system.”

  “So, my doppelganger has an accomplice?” I asked. “Or another stolen identity. Could someone here have gotten themselves a new body for Christmas, and decided that yesterday they needed to be me?”

  “Fortunately, that’s not possible,” Ian said. “Doppelgangers are at the top of the shapeshifter food chain, but they can still change into only one person at a time.”

  “What do doppelgangers look like normally?”

  “Amorphous blob pretty much covers it.”

  Ick.

  Ian’s expression darkened. “Doppelgangers usually kill the person whose appearance they replicate to avoid discovery. If you’re going to make a copy, it’s risky to leave the original behind.”

  “Apparently my being alive to take the blame was worth more to the thing than the risk of it being caught.”

  Ian brushed his finger across the tip of his nose.

  “Doppelgangers are perfect for spy and infiltration work,” Moreau said. “I had heard rumors that the CIA had recently begun using them. Simply replace the person and act in their stead. Spies, CEOs, political and world leaders—the perfect infiltrator with endless possibilities.”

  I blinked. “The CIA is using supernaturals?”

  “Another rumor.” Moreau glanced down at the photo of me and the vampire ex-CIA handler. “One that seems to have just been verified. Another benefit to using doppelgangers is that doppelgangers are exceptionally strong, supernaturally so. That strength is not diminished regardless of the form they take.”

  “Why have a doppelganger impersonate me? I don’t know or have access to anything that would be useful to the CIA or anyone else.”

  “Perhaps it is not what you know,” Vivienne Sagadraco said quietly, “but what you are.”

  “A seer.”

  “The only seer in our New York office, and one of only five in the entire company. Aside from yourself, we have one seer in our Canadian, Scandinavian, British, and South American offices. The Scandinavian seer will be accompanying Director Anderssen. The Canadian, British, and South American seers are unavailable. The Canadian is still recuperating from a Sasquatch encounter gone extremely wrong. The British seer is assisting in a rabid gryphon outbreak in Wales, and the South American is somewhere in the jungles of the Amazon on vacation and out of contact.”

  “So aside from the Scandinavian, I’m all we have. And if you thought I was a traitor . . .”

  “There would be no seer available in all of the Americas on the eve of what could be a world-altering, catastrophic event. Monsters are real, and billions of people will witness it as it happens live on television or the Internet on New Year’s Eve.”

  Ian leaned back and his chair creaked. It was the only sound in the room. “That’s not a coincidence, either.”

  “No, I don’t believe it is, Agent Byrne,” Sagadraco said. “These two grendels are somehow veiled against sight and sound. Our teams would never know what hit them. But at midnight on New Year’s Eve the world could witness it all. Alain, we must determine what damage the doppelganger has done to our security while masquerading as Agent Fraser—and any other form it may have been using. Determine if it brought any kind of package into this building. Review the hand scan records for agents arriving or departing early or late for anything that stands out from their normal routine. Any sickness or offsite appointments that were requested at the last minute or that ran longer than requested. Start with the senior security and science staff and work your way down until you find any anomalies. Personally select a few nonhuman agents to assist you.”

  “What good would—” I began.

  “Doppelgangers can only duplicate humans,” she told me. “For some reason, supernatural physiology impairs accurate duplication. Unfortunately, our uninvited guest has probably already eliminated the person they originally used to gain entrance. I imagine they’ve been with us for some time. Alain, have all of the security tapes been reviewed?”

  “No, madame. Just the break room and the Saga Partners Investments cameras. I stopped once I found what I was looking for.”

  Me making nice with my presumed handler.

  “Have security review the tapes for the past forty-eight hours, looking for Agent Fraser,” the boss instructed. “Note the time and location of each instance. Agent Fraser, please provide Alain with your whereabouts for the same time period, both here and outside of headquarters. We will go back further if necessary. I want to know where that doppelganger has been and what it has done.”

  “I’ll have a report for you within the hour,” Moreau said.

  “I’d also suggest checking the Saga video further than Fitzpatrick’s meeting with Mac’s doppelganger across the street,” Ian said. “He could’ve left soon after—or he could’ve had a meeting with his handler or his employer.”

  Sagadraco nodded in approval. “Excellent idea, Agent Byrne. Alain?”

  “Added to the list, ma’am.”

  “We need it done quickly, and we also should monitor the Saga camera overlooking the street in case Mr. Fitzgerald pays our doppelganger another visit.” She paused thoughtfully. “Get that new employee in Research to assist you, the one with four pair of eyes. Bob has reported that he’s very adept with them and is an excellent multitasker.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Sagadraco turned to me. “For your safety, Agent Fraser, I want you to stay here until these issues are resolved.”

  “With my doppelganger running loose?”

  She raised an elegant brow. “And Mr. Fitzpatrick and an unknown phantom organization on the prowl out there? One creature inside SPI as opposed to an unknown number outside.”

  “Good point, ma’am.”

  “We can protect you more efficiently here. Agent Byrne will remain with you at all times. By the time Lars and his team arrive we will have the most probable locations for the grendels and begin our search. I need you to be with them. They are bringing their seer. You’ll deploy with the teams. I can’t risk having you abducted or murdered before then.”

  “I wouldn’t like that either, ma’am.” I had a disturbing thought, even more disturbing than possibly running into my evil twin in the ladies’ room. “It’s dark outside. There’s been two killings in two nights. These things hunt when it’s dark, and our Scandinavian grendel experts are so
mewhere over the North Atlantic right now.”

  Sagadraco glanced at her slender, diamond watch, as did her dragon aura. Dragons liked their sparklies. “On the contrary, they should be landing by nine o’clock tonight.”

  “But in the meeting just now, you said—”

  Her eyes glittered with a hint of humor. “I say many things, Agent Fraser—some of which are intentionally inaccurate.”

  “I wondered why you invited me to a meeting if you thought I was a traitor.”

  “I sincerely hope it is not the case, but the doppelganger could very well have been one of the other people in that room. They represent my best and most valued people. Everyone who was in that room is now privy to the fake time and place of Director Anderssen’s arrival.”

  “The fake time five hours from now.”

  “I am having all of them watched,” Moreau said. “If one of those in that meeting attempts to contact anyone outside of SPI within the next few hours, that communication will be monitored, intercepted, and if it is suspect, swiftly acted upon.”

  Vivienne Sagadraco smiled, predatory and eager. “Meanwhile, I will investigate the CIA angle. I have a few contacts who should be able to provide the information we require on former-Agent Fitzgerald.”

  She stood, as did Ian and Moreau. I kept my seat. After nearly being fired, killed, and knowing I had a doppelganger who’d damned near made both happen, my legs were a wee bit on the wobbly side.

  Sagadraco nodded curtly and left the room.

  Grendels without. Doppelgangers within. And my dragon boss chomping at the bit to sink her teeth into a vampire ex-CIA agent. This was shaping up to be one hell of a holiday weekend.

  • • •

  Ian stopped Alain Moreau outside the conference room.

  “Mac and I are going over to the Full Moon for a quick bite to eat.”

  “Madame Sagadraco requested—”

  “I know what she wants, but my partner and I haven’t slept and have barely eaten in twenty-four hours. The Scandinavian team will be here soon. Between now and then, our seer needs food and rest. Any objections?”

  “None, Agent Byrne. However, I must insist that you take at least one guard with you; preferably two.”

  “I won’t need the help, but Yasha and Calvin are welcome for the company. Are they acceptable?”

  “They will be adequate.”

  The two men held eye contact for a couple of seconds, and then Moreau nodded curtly, turned, and went about his business. I guess in alpha male speak that meant Ian had won this round.

  Ian saw me trying not to smile.

  “What?”

  I raised my hands. “Nothing, nothing at all. By the way,” I added quietly. “Thank you.”

  “Dragons and older vamps forget that we mere humans have to eat and sleep. You’re not going to be any good to anyone if you’re too tired to see straight. Hunger and fatigue will get you killed.”

  “That’s not what I was thanking you for; though I haven’t eaten in so long I think my stomach’s forgotten what food is. Thank you for saying that you knew I wasn’t a traitor—even without the powdered sugar.”

  There was an awkward silence.

  “I call it like I see it,” Ian said.

  “Well, thank you for seeing me that way. I appreciate it.” Then I remembered that the boss wanted me to give Moreau a rundown of where I’d been and when I’d been there for the past forty-eight hours. “Dang it, I promised Moreau that list of my whereabouts.”

  Ian put a hand on my shoulder and firmly turned me in the opposite direction. “And he can wait another hour to get it. Let’s grab our coats and get out of here.”

  13

  AT the end of the block, two buildings down from the café, which I swore I was never setting foot in again, was the Full Moon.

  If I had to pick a place to eat a last meal, the Full Moon would be it. The barbeque was slow cooked, the burgers were rare, the steaks tartar, and the regulars were furry. The Full Moon also had the distinction of having one of the best collections of single malt scotches in the city, scotches that’d put even more hair on a werewolf’s chest.

  Bill and Nancy Garrison were a nice werewolf couple who’d come from North Carolina to spread the gospel of barbeque to the heathen Yankees—and to give homesick Southern werewolves a taste of home. I came for the pulled pork platter, banana puddin’, and sweet tea.

  The Full Moon billed itself as New York’s Official Werewolf Bar. They even had a gift shop up front. The place was dark wood, dim lights, and decorated with every werewolf cliché the Garrisons could come up with. Werewolf movie posters hung on the walls, werewolf movies ran on the big screen TVs, and on Friday and Saturday nights when the mundane came in, Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London” was in heavy rotation on the state-of-the-art sound system. In my opinion, Bill and Nancy’s booming business had been a flash of brilliance. Hide in plain sight.

  They still had their Christmas decorations up. My favorite was the life-sized fake werewolf looming in one corner. In honor of the holidays, he was wearing a festive scarf that Nancy had knitted and a red Rudolph nose. The bloodred light from the nose shone up into its glittering eyes. Christmasy, yet with creepy bonus points.

  It was a little after six o’clock on the night before New Year’s Eve, and the place was already packed. Werewolves made up a big part of the dinner crowd, but with three days until the full moon, the younger werewolves would be sticking close to home—something to do with lack of control. I could see where being in a packed restaurant would cause control issues in the younger werewolf set—especially with all those two-legged, warm-blooded potential meals crowding the bar area.

  Yasha and Calvin cleared a path through the bar like the bow of a destroyer through a sea of rubber duckies. I could see Yasha’s nostrils flaring at all the meaty goodness; you couldn’t blame the man for sniffing.

  We didn’t have to wait for a table. The Full Moon was a favorite place for SPI offsite meetings, so the Garrisons kept a reserved sign on a quiet booth near the back—or as quiet as the place ever got.

  Ian pulled Yasha and Calvin aside. He spoke briefly, the two other men nodded, and then took a seat at a nearby section of bar. Ian slid into the booth next to me.

  “What’s all that about?” I asked.

  “I want to talk to you without anyone overhearing.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  He answered me with silence.

  “You’re supposed to tell me I’m wrong.”

  “Can’t do that.” He looked up and sat back. The waiter took our drink order, and since we knew what we wanted, he took our food order as well. Unlike other couples seated together, Ian and I weren’t on a date, and we most definitely didn’t have time to relax and have a leisurely dinner. But I wasn’t about to let a pair of rampaging monsters cheat me out of dessert. I’d get that banana puddin’ to go if I had to.

  As soon as the waiter left, Ian’s attention was on me.

  “Do you know how I started working at SPI?” he asked.

  “Not one for small talk, are you?”

  “Not normally; and certainly not now.”

  I sat back in the booth. “I haven’t heard.”

  The edge of a smile appeared. “You mean you couldn’t get Yasha to tell you.”

  Busted. “Or Calvin or Kenji or anyone else.” I shrugged. “Digging up info no one wants out there is what I do.”

  “Well, you can stop snooping. I need your cooperation, so you need to know.”

  “Cooperation?”

  “I thought it might work better with you than ‘obey.’”

  “You thought right. Let me guess, this cooperation would be with you.”

  “Correct. Though how I came here isn’t good dinner conversation, but we’re out of time.”

  “Not much a
bout SPI is fit for the supper table. I can take it.” Maybe. Probably not. But I wasn’t about to tell Ian that. I’d made enough mistakes to make myself look incompetent in the past day and I wasn’t about to add anything else to it.

  “Almost four years ago, my partner and I responded to a call of a robbery in progress at a high-end jewelry store.”

  “NYPD?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I was still on the force then. It was a silent alarm, so we knew there was a possibility that we’d show up while the perps were still there. They were there, all right.”

  “Let me guess, not human.”

  “Ghouls.” Ian paused. “Had you dealt with ghouls before you came here?”

  “We’d have one pop up occasionally back home.”

  “No swarms?”

  “Swarms?”

  “That’s what a group of ghouls is called.”

  “That’s a new one on me,” I said. “I thought it kinda odd that they’d work together like they did at the storage place, but I was too busy at the time to ponder it much.”

  “There’s about as many ghouls in the world as vampires and werewolves,” Ian told me. “And they’re just as organized. That night in the jewelry store there were five of them. Though when me and Pete got there, we only saw three; and they were wearing masks, so we didn’t know what they really were. I called for backup. Pete didn’t want to wait. He’d looked around back. There was a white van with a dint in the driver’s side door. It fit the description of a getaway vehicle used in a robbery the month before, this time at a pawnshop known to carry high-end jewelry. The pawnshop owner and his wife were there when the robbers hit.” Ian paused, a muscle clenching in his jaw. “They’d been tied up and taken into the back . . .”

  With a sickening dread, I knew what was coming next.

  “They cut pieces off of them. The medical examiner said it had been done slowly, one then the other, and then back again until they both bled out. They never found the pieces.”

  Ian didn’t need to say it. We both knew what had happened to those missing parts, and those parts had probably been eaten while their victims had been forced to watch.