by Tim Waggoner
Some pedestrians stood and stared at the bizarre rock creature that had forced its way up from the earth, but others fled in terror. As far as I was concerned, they were the smart ones. Buildings on either side of the street remained distorted, but at least they showed no signs that they were in danger of collapsing. The air around us continued to shimmer and ripple, which I took as an indication that the Incursion wasn’t going to let up anytime soon.
Now that he was back in his Night Aspect, Jinx had access to all his special abilities, and he drew Cuthbert Junior from whatever other-dimensional space he used to store his goodies. He gripped the sledge’s handle, spun it around a couple times as easily as if it were a baton, and then ran toward Stoneface, laughing maniacally.
Before Jinx could reach the creature, its mouth opened wide and a stone tongue shot forth. The tongue was covered with sharp spikes, and it lashed toward Jinx like a deadly whip. It happened too fast for me to fire my trancer or shout a warning, but Jinx had it covered. As the spiky length of stone swung toward him, he jumped into the air. As the tongue passed beneath him, he did a somersault in mid-air and brought Cuthbert Junior down in a vicious swing. The sledge’s head struck the stone tongue a solid blow, and chunks of stone flew through the air.
Jinx cackled with mad delight as he continued his somersault on his way to the ground, landing on his oversized shoes with inhuman grace.
“Sorry,” he said to Stoneface, “but I don’t allow anyone to give me tongue on the first date!”
Jinx had managed to knock a good chunk out of the tongue and dislodge a few spikes, but the rest of it still held together. Stoneface’s magma eyes blazed with fury, and a rumbling growl that sounded like an avalanche issued from deep within the creature. Its spiked tongue lifted into the air, paused there for an instant, and then came hurtling down toward Jinx’s head. Jinx saw what was happening, and he gripped Cuthbert Junior with both hands and raised the sledge, clearly intending to intercept the rock tongue with a devastating blow.
I decided to give him a hand. I assumed a firing stance, aimed my trancer, and waited.
An instant before the spiked rock-tongue slammed into his head, Jinx swung his hammer. At the same moment, I squeezed my trancer’s trigger and Maelstrom energy lanced forth from the muzzle and streaked through the air to strike the tongue near the spot where the sledge impacted. Half of the tongue exploded in a shower of rock fragments, and Stoneface let out a bestial howl in what I assume was pain, and withdrew the remainder of its tongue into its mouth.
“Take that, you stone-faced bastard!” I shouted. I may not have Jinx’s talent for groan-inducing repartee, but what I lack in wit I make up for in sheer attitude.
Jinx gave me a grin. “Nice shot, Annie Oakley.”
“Nice strike, John Henry,” I replied.
We’d only injured the creature, though. The magma bubbling in its eye sockets began to burn hotter and glow whiter, and I knew we had seriously pissed it off.
Behind us, Connie hit the Deathmobile’s horn: a spine-chilling sound that was somewhere between a banshee’s mournful cry and a pack of howling wolves. Jinx and I both turned to look. She leaned her head out the driver’s side window and shouted, “Get out of the way!”
I had no idea what she had planned, but I’d known her long enough to trust her, and I threw myself to the side. Jinx did the same, and the second we hit the ground, the Deathmobile’s headlights came on. At first the beams looked like normal light, but the longer they shone, the more green the light became, until twin beams of unearthly verdant energy poured onto Stoneface’s surface. The rock creature roared with pain and shook its head back and forth, as if trying to twist away from the beams, but to no effect. Wherever the energy struck, stone began to crumble and fall away from the creature’s body, gathering on the street around it in piles of what looked like gray sand.
Still roaring, the creature opened its maw wide and its half-a-tongue lashed out toward the Deathmobile, obviously intending to strike the deadly light at its source. But the Deathmobile adjusted the angle of its headlights so green energy washed over the tongue, and it disintegrated. The Deathmobile trained its greenlights on Stoneface again, and the beams began to blaze even brighter as the hearse poured more power into its attack. It didn’t take long after that. Stoneface shrank as its surface sloughed away, and soon nothing remained of the creature but a large gray mound of sand.
The Deathmobile’s headlights flicked off.
Jinx and I rose to our feet, keeping our gazes on the sand mound, just in case Stoneface wasn’t all the way dead. But the sand made no movement, and I decided the Deathmobile had lived up to its name.
Jinx let out a low whistle. “We have got to get ourselves a car like that!”
The idea of Jinx behind the wheel of an Incubi vehicle with as much destructive power as the Deathmobile filled me with dread. It would be like giving an active volcano a nuclear bomb for Christmas.
We started back to the Deathmobile, but I’d only taken a couple steps when the air-shimmer became more intense and a fresh wave of vertigo swept over me. When it passed, the world had more or less returned to normal. The buildings and sidewalks were mostly as they had been before the Incursion began, with only minor damage visible. The mound of sand that had been Stoneface was gone, but the hole in the street it had made when it emerged remained. The Deathmobile had become a piece-of-shit Pinto again, and Jinx was no longer a clown, and Cuthbert Junior was gone.
“Well, that was rather disorienting,” Day Jinx said.
“If you think it was bad for us, imagine how it was for them.” I gestured at the people on the cracked and buckled sidewalk. There were no more Incubi in their midst – none that they could detect, anyway – but they stood quietly, expressions of shocked disbelief on their faces.
“I’d like to see how the M-gineers plan to handle this,” I muttered.
SIX
Thankfully, we made it to Perchance to Dream without being attacked by any more Maelstrom-created monsters. The Deathmobile was none the worse – or maybe I should say none the better, in its case – for having experienced the Incursion. But Connie was pretty shaken up, and I have to admit that I was, too. Day Jinx usually plays his emotional cards close to the vest, but I could tell that he was also disturbed by what had happened.
Even during the night, wispers can’t transmit between dimensions. Normally, when Jinx and I need to make a report to the Rookery – like we did that morning after fighting Quietus in AT&T Plaza – we rely on a Shadow Watch courier. Couriers are Incubi stationed on Earth. When they receive an officer’s report, they record it, haul ass to the first Door they can find, step through, and then once in Nod, they relay the message to the Rookery.
But it was daytime, so in order to report this latest Incursion to Sanderson, we would have to wait until the sun went down. But this news was too important to wait, so on the way to Perchance to Dream, I called David Lindroth, a Shadow Watch officer I knew in London. We’d worked a couple cases together… and we’d done a few other things together that I’d rather not go into detail about, thank you.
Chicago is six hours behind the UK, so it was around 10.30 at night there. I quickly told David what had happened, and he made me repeat it more slowly. I couldn’t blame him. A daytime Incursion? I thought it sounded insane, and I’d experienced it first hand. When I finished, David promised to convey my report to Sanderson immediately, and we disconnected.
I asked Connie to drop us off halfway down the street from Perchance to Dream. The business was located in an upper-middle-class suburb, and the Deathmobile’s Day Aspect wouldn’t make the best impression here. Connie took no offense at my request and did as I asked.
After we got out, she gave us a wave and a wan smile. She hadn’t spoken much since the Incursion – I think it had really disturbed her – and she said nothing as she drove off. The Pinto shook and rattled as it went, leaving a trail of noxious exhaust in its wake. If I hadn’t known the car was an
Incubus, I wouldn’t have expected it to last another day.
I’d convinced Connie to hit a Starbucks drive-through along the way so I could get a caramel macchiato with extra espresso, and I took a sip of it as I watched her leave. Jinx frowned. As far as he’s concerned, caffeine isn’t much different than rev – especially in large quantities – but he didn’t say anything about it, for which I was grateful. The way the day had gone so far, I needed it, as much for my morale as for the energy boost.
One good thing about the Incursion: Jinx’s shoulder wound had healed when he shifted into his Night Aspect, and it remained healed when he returned to his day self. His tie, while smaller, remained orange and purple, and his shoes, although normal size, were still sneakers. I knew he hated to be seen in public like this, but there was nothing we could do about it right then.
As we started walking toward Perchance to Dream, Jinx said, “There have been only two Incursions in Chicago in the space of twelve hours. Two that we know of, anyway. Doesn’t it strike you as odd that we were present when both occurred?”
I frowned. “Now that you mention it, yeah, it does. Are you suggesting we caused the Incursions somehow, without knowing it?”
But before Jinx could respond, a man and a black-and-tan dachshund came around the corner. The dog walked at the man’s side without a leash, collar jingling and toenails clack-clack-clacking on the sidewalk. I’ve never been a fan of small yappy dogs, and the doxie must’ve sensed how I felt, for as it approached it gave me a suspicious look and growled.
“Hush,” the dog’s owner said softly. He was about my age, maybe a bit older, and dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans. He was brown-haired, with a mustache and beard, handsome, and fit. The man smiled at me as if to apologize for his dog, and then the two of them passed us and continued down the sidewalk. I would’ve turned to get another look at him, but I didn’t want Jinx to tease me about it, so I resisted. It wasn’t easy, though.
After calling David in London, I’d called Deacon Booze. He knew about the latest Incursion (of course), but he knew of no others. It was possible he simply hadn’t heard of them yet, but I doubted it.
“So, did we cause the Incursions?” I asked Jinx.
“Honestly, I don’t see how we could have. But think about it: what are the odds that Connie would take us on a route that would coincide with the Incursion’s location, and that we would pass through that location at the precise moment the Incursion happened?”
“Pretty damn slim.”
Jinx and I had reached Perchance to Dream’s parking lot, and we headed for the office building. As we drew nearer, I started feeling a cold queasiness in my gut. I put it down to drinking my macchiato on an empty stomach, and I did my best to ignore it.
I went on. “If someone is causing the Incursions on purpose, that someone could’ve followed us and triggered the Incursion whenever they felt like it.”
“Someone like Quietus?” Jinx said.
“We might’ve lost him in Nod, but that doesn’t mean he stayed there. He had plenty of time to get back to Chicago before sunrise.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Jinx admitted, although he sounded doubtful. “Quietus was present during the first Incursion.”
There was nothing special about Perchance to Dream, at least not from the outside. The parking lot was full of vehicles, mostly new or newish, nothing too sporty or expensive, but it was clear that none of the employees was starving. There were no signs announcing this as the location of Perchance to Dream. Either the company didn’t need to advertise its presence, or it didn’t want to. There was a chrome design above the entrance, a shape that made me think of a leaf lying on its side. I wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be.
As if reading my mind, Jinx said, “It’s a closed eye. It represents sleep.”
“Right. I remember now. I saw it on their webpage.” I looked at it more closely. “You know, if they positioned it vertically, it would look like this was a gynaecologist’s building.”
Jinx sighed.
“If it was nighttime, you’d have laughed.”
“At that joke? Not likely.”
We were halfway across the parking lot by now, and my queasiness surged into full-fledged nausea. My heart started pounding double time and sweat beaded on my skin. I became dizzy, and my vision blurred. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I might be experiencing a panic attack. That or I was having a stroke. I almost said something to Jinx, but I was afraid he’d just nag me about forcing myself to have a second backstep. Besides, I didn’t want to scare him. I was plenty scared for the both of us. I tried to relax my body as we walked, and I focused on breathing deeply and evenly. But by the time we reached the building’s entrance, I was fairly confident I wasn’t going to die – at least not within the next few minutes – although I still felt awful.
I wondered if my panic was caused by the thought of seeing Dr Kauffman for the first time in fifteen years. That hadn’t exactly been the happiest time of my life. I decided to squash that thought before it could go any further, though. The last thing I needed was to get even more worked up than I already was.
Jinx seemed not to have noticed my spaz attack, and I was grateful. I didn’t want to distract him. At least one of us should have our shit together when we’re working, I thought.
He opened one of the double glass doors and gestured for me to enter. Day Jinx can be a gentleman when it suits him. Night Jinx would’ve probably just smashed through the glass at a full run, giggling like a lunatic as he went, not caring whether or not I followed. I stepped through and tossed my mostly empty coffee cup into a trash receptacle just inside the large atrium-style lobby. A semicircular reception desk was located on the far side of the lobby, and a round-faced woman in her late thirties with curly black hair sat at the desk, typing on a keyboard. She was dressed in a stylish business suit, but despite her professional appearance, she didn’t look up as we entered. Her attention was completely absorbed by whatever was displayed on her computer monitor.
We walked past a waiting area consisting of several expensive-looking leather chairs and couches. The furniture was arranged around a large-screen TV playing an informational video to empty seats about all the wonderful services Perchance to Dream offered. On the screen, a white-bearded man in his late fifties – wearing a tailored gray suit – was speaking rapidly and at high volume.
“You might be asking yourself, ‘Why do I need help sleeping? I sleep just fine!’ Well, my friend, the fact is that you only think you’re getting a good night’s sleep. But just because your eyes are closed doesn’t mean you’re getting restful, and most importantly, restorative sleep.”
He gave his nonexistent audience a wide, gleaming smile.
“And that’s where we come in.”
When we reached the desk, I looked at the receptionist and hooked a thumb toward the video monitor.
“You must be sick of listening to that noise all day,” I said.
She didn’t respond. In fact, she seemed totally unaware of our presence. I leaned forward and waved a hand between her face and the monitor. She gave a start, then looked up at us, an apologetic smile on her face.
“Sorry.” She removed a pair of plastic plugs from her ears and placed them on top of the desk.
“No need to apologize,” I said. “If I worked here, I’d do the same.”
Her smile relaxed. “I wouldn’t mind it so much if they’d let me turn the volume down when no one else is here. Oh, well. We all have our crosses to bear, right?”
“That’s an interesting pin,” I said, nodding toward the silvery object affixed to her lapel. “It’s the company logo, right?”
“Yes. It’s supposed to look like a closed eye.” She lowered her voice. “I think it’s kind of ugly, to tell you the truth, but they make us wear it.” She brushed her fingers across her pin as if to give it a quick polish, then said, “How may I help you?”
“My colleague and I are freelance writers,” Jinx said.
“We’re working on an article about your company for Innovation Today magazine.”
There is, of course, no such magazine. That’ll be our little secret, OK?
The woman’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes narrowed slightly. “Did you have an appointment to speak with someone? I don’t recall seeing anything like that on today’s schedule.”
She turned to her monitor, worked the mouse for a couple seconds, checked whatever appeared on her screen, then turned back to us.
“I wasn’t informed about any interview.” She sounded apologetic again, but also a bit guarded.
“We emailed your public relations director last week,” Jinx said. He didn’t elaborate. He just looked at the receptionist expectantly. Even in his Day Aspect, there’s something slightly off-putting about Jinx, and he can stare for a long time without blinking if he wants to. It unnerves people when he does that, and he was doing it now.
The receptionist’s smile faded. “I, uh… OK. Just let me check.”
She lifted the receiver from her desk phone, punched in an extension number, then lifted to receiver to her ear. After a moment, she said, “Mr Schulte? This is Vivian. I have a man and a woman down here who say they have an appointment with you. They’re writers working on a magazine article. They say they sent you an email last week, but I–” She paused as if interrupted, and listened. “Very well. I’ll let them know.” She replaced the receiver and looked at us, smile firmly in place once again.
“Mr Schulte will be down in a moment.”
“Thanks,” I said, and then Jinx and I wandered over to the waiting area. We didn’t sit down, though. It was bad enough that we couldn’t avoid the obnoxiously loud voice of the man in the promotional video. We weren’t about to sit where we had to look at him, too.
