by Tim Waggoner
“You should have a doctor look at them.”
“They’re fine. And we don’t have time to see a doctor.”
“If we go to an urgent care facility, it won’t take long. It’s–” He held up his wisper, moved his wrist in a certain way, and holographic numbers appeared in the air above the device. “–9:46. They shouldn’t be busy this early.” The holo-display faded and he lowered his arm.
“They wouldn’t be able to do anything more for me than I’ve already done for myself.”
I appreciated Jinx’s concern, although some of it likely had to do with worries that my wounds might affect my job performance. I decided to tease him a little.
“I could try to find someone to sell me some stunners. That would take the edge off.”
He scowled and opened his mouth to reply, but then he closed it again and gave me a look that said Nice try.
“How about we stop at a pharmacy on the way?” I said, serious this time. “I’ll pick up some pain meds, bandages, and some antibiotic cream – the whole works. Sound good?”
“It’ll suffice, I suppose.”
He smiled slightly when he said this, though, and I knew he was pleased. And to be honest, it’s nice having a partner watching out for you, no matter which Aspect he’s in.
At that moment a sound like a mountain of scrap metal collapsing filled the air, accompanied by the stench of an oilfield fire. A baby-shit-brown Pinto that looked as if it should’ve died in the 1970s came rattling down the street toward us, sending property values plummeting by its very presence. Pedestrians, dog-walkers, joggers, and motorists alike gaped in horrified astonishment at the automotive abomination that desecrated their precious Gold Coast. And I grinned from ear to ear, loving every moment of it.
Jinx shook his head.
“You have an odd sense of humor sometimes, Audra.”
* * *
On the way to Mordacity’s, I asked Connie if she’d heard anything about shuteye being sold on the street.
“Nope. But a drug like that, it’s not something people would talk openly about. Especially in front of me. People know I don’t discriminate when it comes to picking up fares. Good guys, bad guys… long as they can pay. But it’s not exactly a secret that I’m friends with a couple Watch officers. I could ask around if you want. See what I turn up.”
“I appreciate the offer, but, if you did that, you might as well be putting a target on your back. Melody and Trauma Doll already got hurt. I don’t want to add your name to the casualty list.”
I sat in the front passenger seat, while Jinx was crammed into the back. He hugged his knees to his chest in order to keep his feet out of the compost heap of crumpled fast-food bags, empty plastic bottles, and other less-identifiable items. As bad as the Deathmobile smelled on the outside during the day, it was ten times worse inside. A combination of gas fumes, burning oil, sour sweat, greasy salami, and rotting vegetables that seared the inside of your nasal passages and stripped a layer of flesh from your throat. Some Incubi retain a small measure of otherworldly power in their Day Aspects, and I’d always thought the Deathmobile was one of them. I can’t believe such a stench could occur naturally.
Connie is heavily pierced and tattooed, and her hair is usually dyed one color or another. Today she sported hot pink, although most of it was hidden beneath a woolen cap. Her elaborate tattoos – she has a race track stretching across her body, filled with images of cars she loves – was hidden by a winter jacket and jeans. She also wore a pair of fingerless gloves. The Deathmobile has no heat in winter and no air-conditioning in summer. I had to grit my teeth to keep them from chattering, and even Jinx looked cold.
We’d already stopped at a pharmacy, and I had a plastic bag of medical supplies on my lap. I had the bag looped around my forearm because I needed my hands to steady myself as Connie drove through the city streets, weaving in and out of traffic as if she were on the Autobahn instead of in downtown Chicago. The Deathmobile doesn’t have seatbelts. I’m not sure Connie is even aware of the concept.
The last time I’d spoken with Mordacity, his “office” – for lack of a better word – was located in a rundown building on the Southside. That had been several years ago, but I hoped he was still in the same place. We’d soon find out.
The Southside has a reputation for poverty and crime, but the reality is more complex. Yeah, it has its troubles, but the neighborhoods range from working class to more affluent, and the population is more ethnically varied than in some parts of the city. Mordacity’s building was located in one of the rougher neighborhoods, but I wasn’t worried about going there. The Southside was nothing compared to the Cesspit in Nod – but that didn’t mean I intended to let my guard down.
I asked Connie to drop us off at a corner a couple blocks from Mordacity’s building. As loud as the Deathmobile was, I knew Mordacity – along with everyone else in the vicinity – would hear us coming. While Mordacity wasn’t an enemy, I didn’t know if he still counted as a friend, and I’d rather he didn’t receive advance notice of our arrival. Jinx and I climbed out of the Deathmobile, and Connie roared off, the engine making a sound like a pack of pissed-off wolverines caught in an industrial-size woodchipper.
Jinx turned his head, sniffed the shoulder of his jacket, and made a face.
“I’m going to have to burn my clothes. Again.”
“Just make sure you’re not in them this time.”
Jinx gave me a look which said I wasn’t nearly as amusing as I thought I was. I get that from him a lot. Hey, can I help it if his Night Jinx sometimes carries out Day Jinx’s wishes in unorthodox and potentially fatal ways?
We started walking down the sidewalk toward Mordacity’s building. A number of the buildings were abandoned, windows boarded up and graffiti spray-painted on the walls. A liquor store was still open, as was a place called BDBBQ (Best Damn Barbecue). We didn’t see many people out. A couple sat on stoops or stood on corners, all of them wearing jackets too light for the weather. They watched Jinx and me with wary eyes. In their part of town, someone wearing a suit usually meant trouble of some kind or another, and two people wearing matching suits was even worse. People who drove in cars far less expensive than residents of the Gold Coast also gave us hard, appraising looks. I was glad we’d come here during the day. Jinx and I might be setting off the neighborhood’s warning system by our presence, but if I’d come here with Night Jinx… Let’s just say a clown in a suit draws quite a lot of attention, almost none of it good.
Mordacity’s place was a simple two-story gray stone building, old but in good condition. Jinx and I went inside. There was a small lobby, but no security person on duty. There was a single elevator, and a directory next to it, a black felt board with white plastic letters pushed into it. Madeline’s Medical Massage (medical, sure) was on the first floor, along with Discount Dental. The second floor had only a single business listed, and it didn’t have a full name, just a single letter: M.
I reached out to push the elevator button, but Jinx said, “This old thing will probably make as much noise as the Deathmobile. Besides, it’s healthier to take the stairs.”
He was right – on both counts. One of the ways for Ideators to help counter the effects of not sleeping was to remain as healthy as possible, which really sucks when your favorite food is carbs with sugar on top. But I chose to be a good girl, and I followed Jinx to the stairs and we started to climb. The stairwell smelled like bleach trying unsuccessfully to mask the smell of urine, but, after being in the Deathmobile, it smelled like spring roses. When we reached the second floor, I opened the door slowly, hoping it wouldn’t creak. It made no noise, and I figured the hinges had been oiled recently, probably by Mordacity. He’d want the people who came to see him to feel comfortable, like they could come and go without being noticed if they wished.
We stepped into the hallway, and I eased the door shut behind us. I could hear someone talking softly – a male voice, not Mordacity’s – but I couldn’t make
out what he was saying. There were half a dozen rooms on this floor, but there were no signs or office numbers on any of them, and I assumed they were empty. All but the one at the farthest end of the hall, that is. Jinx and I walked quietly down the hall until we were standing outside the door of Mordacity’s… well, office wasn’t the word he used. He called it his space. The door was closed, and there was nothing to indicate what lay behind it, not even an M. But it wasn’t necessary. Unless things had changed since we’d last been here – and it looked like they hadn’t – Mordacity was the only occupant of the second floor.
Jinx and I listened as the man inside continued to talk.
“…try to understand, but it’s not easy to live with day after day. I mean, we were reunited only recently. Yeah, he only leaves for a few days at a time now, and so far he always returns. But what if one day he doesn’t come back, and this time he’s gone for good? I can’t stop worrying about it.”
I recognized the voice. It belonged to Abe Chen, and, from his words, I knew the he he spoke of was his Incubus, Budgie. I felt suddenly embarrassed for eavesdropping on him. Abe was a good guy, and a friend. He and Budgie had helped us out against the Fata Morgana, and, back in the days when I was using, I could always count on Abe to be carrying a little something extra for me. Like me, he was clean these days, but it sounded as if he were going through a hard time, and I was afraid he might start using again.
I’d just decided that Jinx and I would leave and come back later when Abe stopped talking. The door opened a moment later.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to wait outside. All are welcome here,” he smiled. “You both should know that.”
In his Day Aspect, Mordacity was a middle-aged black man with short hair and a goatee that was starting to go gray. He was round-faced, medium height, and stout, and when he smiled – which was often – he resembled an African-American Buddha. He wore an off-white turtleneck, black jeans, and a pair of highly polished black shoes.
It had been several years since we’d spoken, and, although his Day Aspect is a kind, forgiving sort, I hadn’t been sure what kind of response Jinx and I would get when we turned up on his doorstep. Now I knew, but, despite his friendly greeting, I still felt uncomfortable. Or maybe it was because of his greeting. I think it would’ve been easier to take if he’d been angry with us.
He stepped aside so Jinx and I could enter. Once we were inside, he gestured toward the circle of metal folding chairs arranged in the center of the room.
“Take a seat, please.”
Most of the chairs were occupied, but there were two empty ones. They weren’t together, though, so Jinx and I had to sit apart. Dr Menendez had said we should try to keep some physical distance between us, so I figured this was a good first step.
Abe sat opposite me, and he gave me a nod and smiled, then did the same for Jinx. Abe’s an Asian man in his early sixties, and he wore a pullover sweater, jeans, and sneakers. He was a little fuller in the face than the last time I’d seen him, and I figured that he’d been eating better – not to mention more regularly – since he’d stopped using. I didn’t know any of the other people in the room, not well, anyway. I’d seen a couple of them around, but that was all. There were eight people present, not counting Mordacity, Jinx, and myself, and they varied in age, gender, and race. Ideators and Incubi, but I couldn’t tell who was who just by looking at them. Incubi tend to be a bit “off” in their Day Aspects, but not always, and humans can be weird enough even when they aren’t Ideators.
Mordacity took the last unoccupied chair and looked at Abe.
“Sorry for the interruption. Go on, please.”
Abe glanced at us, clearly uncomfortable, but he started talking again.
“Budgie’s a bird, of course, so I understand his need to roam, but I worry about him when he’s away. In his Day Aspect, he’s so small, and at night… well, he’d certainly give anyone who saw him a fright, and I wouldn’t be surprised if people started taking shots at him.”
By day, Budgie was a parakeet, but by night he was a huge pterosaur. I could understand Abe’s concern.
Abe kept talking, but his words were all variations on the same theme, and I found myself tuning out. I looked around the room, interested to see if anything had changed since my last visit. The same gray carpet covered the floor, but it was a little dingier now. The walls were the same “relocation beige,” and the same framed pictures hung there, all paintings or photos of lighthouses. Most of them were night scenes, with the lighthouse’s beam cutting through fog. The symbolism was so clumsy it bordered on kitsch. As if the room didn’t look enough like the setting of an AA meeting; against one wall was a table with a coffee maker, creamer, and sugar packets, along with an assortment of cookies spread out on a Styrofoam plate. The coffee looked damned tempting. I may not use rev anymore, but I hadn’t given up caffeine. That way lies madness.
The others in the group were less comfortable with our presence than Abe. We were obviously Shadow Watch officers, and a lot of folk with connections to Nod avail themselves of that realm’s unique pharmaceuticals, along with other questionable products and shady activities. But Mordacity had vouched for us simply by way of his friendly greeting and invitation to stay, and, if the others never relaxed fully in our presence, no one left and the meeting continued.
When Abe finished speaking, everyone clapped, so Jinx and I did too. Then it was someone else’s turn to talk, and after that, someone else’s. Jinx and I sat there quietly and listened. Mordacity wouldn’t talk to us until the meeting was over. Until then, all we could do was wait. I’d already known the purpose of Mordacity’s group session, but, even if I hadn’t, it would’ve become obvious very quickly. Everyone here, whether Ideator or Incubus, had been separated from his or her counterpart. Some were like Abe – Ideators whose Incubi liked to roam. Others were Incubi whose Ideators had died, leaving them to continue living on their own. A few had experienced a falling out with their counterpart for one reason or another, and it was those stories that affected me the most. Roaming Incubi are to be expected since living nightmares are, by their very nature, chaotic. And, while it’s sad, Incubi naturally outlive their Ideators since Maelstrom energy is what keeps them alive. But when Incubi and Ideators split up because of some sort of dispute, it strikes me as such a waste. Too much pride, stubbornness, and hurt feelings on either side can lead to years of unhappiness for both parties.
Mordacity was good at his second career, and no wonder. He understood what it was like to be separated from his Ideator.
I did my best to pay attention to the stories people told, but I couldn’t keep my mind from wandering. After all, seeing Mordacity for the first time in years reminded me of my own story – one that was in many ways the main reason I’d come here.
* * *
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said, in a near-whisper.
Jinx and I stood in the shadow of an alley in the Cesspit. We weren’t alone.
“And what in your voluminous and widely varied experience as a Watcher makes you say this?”
Nathaniel smiled and his tone was gently teasing. Still, I knew there was some seriousness to his words. I was, after all, only nineteen and technically still a trainee.
I shook my head. I was unable to put the way I felt into words, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that something was wrong.
Mordacity didn’t add anything. He tended to defer to Nathaniel, and he rarely spoke in his Night Aspect, preferring to let his actions do the talking for him.
Nathaniel Sawyer was the Shadow Watch’s top officer – something of a legend, really – and he had specifically requested to be my mentor after seeing Jinx and me performing “adequately but unevenly” – as our assessment read – during final training exercises at the Watch Academy. When I’d asked him why he made the request, he’d just smiled, and said, “You tell me.”
And that, in a nutshell, was what being Nathaniel’s trainee was like.
&n
bsp; He was a tall, wiry man in his early fifties, with light brown skin and neatly trimmed blond hair. He was always clean-shaven – I’d never seen so much as a hint of stubble on his face – and his Watch uniform suit was always freshly pressed and spotless. I tried to play it cool around him, but the truth was that he intimidated me. Not because he was mean or anything, but because he seemed to have his shit together 24/7. He was totally relaxed and comfortable, even in the most dangerous situations, and I felt like an awkward child around him.
Mordacity was, in his own way, just as frightening as Jinx. In his Night Aspect, he resembled a medieval knight, but, instead of metal, his armor was formed from ancient, yellowed bone. Thick curving ribs protected his chest and back, and his arms and legs were encased in lengths of human bone – ulnae, radii, femora, tibiae… The bone-like structure was part of his body, more of a carapace than actual armor, and the effect was eerie as hell. He had a helmet that grew out of a fleshless grinning skull, and, for extra-scary effect, crimson pinpoints of light smoldered within the depths of his empty eye sockets. He wore a black cape that looked as if it were made of shadow instead of cloth, and he carried a long sword – also fashioned from bone – in a black scabbard belted at his waist. He wore a trancer holstered at his other hip but, like Jinx, he preferred to use his personal weapon whenever possible.
I turned to Jinx, hoping he might back me up, but when I saw him grinning at me, the light from a wide-open Espial making his white face almost glow, I shuddered and turned away. I still wasn’t used to my worst nightmare having come to life, let alone being my partner in my new job.
The four of us were on a stakeout in the Cesspit, and we’d taken up a position in an alley between a bar called Blood in Your Eye and a restaurant called Bottom Feeders. This section of the Cesspit lay on the banks of Lethe, the winding river that flows through Nod. The alley floor was a soupy muck of mud and garbage – the latter of which didn’t bear close scrutiny. Sometimes it’s better not to know what you’re standing in. The air was thick with a stench so eye-burningly acrid it threatened to sear off the outer layers of your skin. Neither Nathaniel nor Mordacity seemed to notice the stink, let alone be bothered by it. Jinx, on the other hand, kept drawing in deep breaths through his nostrils and sighing contentedly, as if he were smelling a bouquet of fresh flowers.
