by Tim Waggoner
* * *
After the meeting ended, Mordacity took the time to chat with a couple of his… patients wasn’t the right word. Clients? No, he didn’t charge for his services. Whatever you want to call the people who came for his help, he spoke with two of them. The rest departed right away, giving Jinx and me uneasy glances as they left. Innocent or not, no one feels comfortable around a law officer in uniform. Jinx moved over to sit with me, and Abe came over to talk with us. He asked us how we were doing, and I answered honestly.
“Up to our necks in shit, as usual.”
I asked him how Maggie was. The two of them had started officially dating not long ago.
“She’s good. It’s, uh, been somewhat challenging seeing her, though. Alone, I mean.”
Maggie’s Incubus was a powerful – and terrifying – entity known as the Darkness. He was completely devoted to her and never left her side if he could help it. I could see how that could put a cramp in a guy’s style.
I’d gotten a Styrofoam cup of coffee when the meeting broke up, and I’d just about finished it. I drained the rest of the coffee, stood, and went over to the snack table to get a refill. Jinx made a face when I came back.
“I can understand drinking that swill when you need a caffeine fix, but choosing to go back for a second cup? That’s masochism. And forcing me to smell it? That’s sadism.”
I asked Abe if he knew anything about who was manufacturing and distributing shuteye, but he said he’d never used the stuff. “It’s too damned dangerous,” he said. He then left to keep his date with Maggie, and soon after that the two people who’d lingered to speak with Mordacity also departed. It was just the three of us then. Mordacity came over and took the chair where Abe had sat.
“Sorry about that. Not everyone feels comfortable talking about their problems in group.” He smiled with genuine warmth. “It’s good to see you both. It’s been far too long since your last visit.”
“It has,” I said, unable to remember precisely when that had been. At Christmas, I thought, but I couldn’t remember which year.
Day Mordacity was normally a hugger, maybe because at night he was encased in an unfeeling armor of bone. But he made no move to hug either of us. Despite his pleasant demeanor, I wondered if he was angry because we’d stayed away so long. I wondered if I should attempt to break the ice first and go in for a hug, or maybe just reach out and clasp his hands. Then again, my hands were injured. Even covered in gloves, they might hurt if I squeezed his hands and he squeezed back too hard.
But then I looked down at my hands and saw no gloves, no injuries. Just intact fingernails and smooth, unbroken skin. All memory of hurting my hands vanished suddenly, and, although I had a vague feeling that I’d lost something, I couldn’t think what it might be, so I decided not to worry about it.
“How have you been?” Jinx asked.
“Okay. The neighborhood’s not the greatest, but that makes the building’s rent cheaper than it might be otherwise. I usually run several groups a day. No night meetings, though.” He smiled ruefully. “I don’t have the right temperament for the work then.”
“I know what that’s like,” Jinx said, and both men chuckled.
I was uncomfortable being around Mordacity, especially after thinking back to the night that Ocho and the Angler got away. And, of course, it had been the night that we’d lost Nathaniel. I decided to cover my feelings by getting down to business.
“Shuteye is back on the street,” I said.
Mordacity scowled, and suddenly his human face looked as grim as his Incubus one always did.
“Tell me all about it,” he said.
* * *
I had a third cup of coffee as Jinx and I took turns filling him in. I didn’t tell him about my extra-dimensional conversation with Russell, though. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I thought it was too complicated to explain at the time. Or maybe I wanted to keep Russell and the Thresholders – whatever the hell they were – a secret for now. When we finished talking, Mordacity sat for several moments, quiet and contemplative. When he finally said something, it wasn’t what I expected.
“You kept finishing each other’s sentences.”
“We did?” Jinx and I said in unison. We looked at each other, and both said, “Stop that!”
“You’re Blending,” Mordacity said.
“We saw a Somnacologist, and he gave us some medication.” I neglected to point out that Dr Menendez wasn’t an official Shadow Watch Somnacologist and that Sanderson hadn’t been informed about our condition. Mordacity might be retired, but, once an officer, always an officer. The last thing we needed was for him to rat us out to Sanderson. Then our boss definitely would pull us off the case.
I fought to resist the urge to give Jinx a warning glance. Night Jinx didn’t give a damn about rules – unless it was breaking them – but Day Jinx could be a tight ass about “proper procedure.” So far he hadn’t said anything to me about our not seeing a Watch Somnacologist, but I knew he wasn’t happy about it. But Jinx kept quiet, though, and I mentally thanked the First Dreamer.
Mordacity gave me a penetrating look, as if he were trying to zap me with a psychic truth ray. Finally, he said, “Make sure to take your medicine as prescribed. In its own way, Blending is as bad as Separation.”
“Forgive me if this is too painful a question,” Jinx said, “but did Nathaniel and you ever suffer from Blending?”
“For a brief time when we were trainees. It strikes some Ideators and Incubi earlier than others, if it strikes at all.” He grew silent for several moments, and I wondered if he was remembering what it was like to be so closely bonded to a man who had lost his mind on that long ago day on the riverbank. “We got through it, though, and you will too. Before we go any further, I want to say I know how much you’re hurting over what happened to Trauma Doll and Melody. It’s never easy when fellow officers are injured in the line of duty, especially when you’re close to them.” He smiled sadly. “I should know.”
“Thanks,” I said, not knowing what, if anything else, I should add.
“So… shuteye,” Mordacity said. “I’m happy to help you in any way I can, but I’m not sure what I can do. Everything Nathaniel and I learned about the drug and its origin – as little as that ended up being – is contained in records at the Rookery. I don’t really have anything to add that’s not already in the official record.”
Jinx and I had gone over those reports before setting up the stake-out on the beach. I practically had the damn things memorized.
“We’re not looking for official information,” I said.
“I’m sorry, but there isn’t anything else I can tell you.”
“Thanks anyway,” I said, trying not to sound as disappointed as I felt. I turned to Jinx. “So what’s our next move?”
He checked the time on his wisper. It was almost three-thirty.
“If I had my way, we’d head downtown and find a cozy little café for a late lunch. But, given the circumstances, I say a stop at Wet Dreams is in order.”
“If you’ll permit me,” Mordacity said, “I’d like to accompany you. I know I’ve been off the Watch for a long time, but… well, shuteye was the last case Nathaniel and I worked on. I’d like to do whatever I can to help you. And I’ve known Deacon Booze for many years. He might tell me things that he’d be reluctant to share with you.”
Day Mordacity was an intelligent, perceptive man, and Night Mordacity kicked serious ass when he wanted to. Russell had said he’d become the target of assassins after trying to learn the identity of the shuteye suppliers, and that we might end up with the same bull’s-eye on our backs if we weren’t careful. We could use Mordacity’s help.
Jinx, however, was less certain.
“You said it yourself: you have been out of the action for some time.”
“I have a car. I could drive us.”
Jinx grinned with delight.
“Why didn’t you say so? It’ll be an honor to work alongside you on
ce again.”
“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” I asked.
“To avoid a return trip downtown in the Deathmobile, I’d lay it on by the ton,” he said.
Mordacity frowned in puzzlement. “Deathmobile?”
“Don’t ask,” Jinx said.
We got up and headed for the door. Mordacity turned off the lights, locked up, and we walked to the stairs. He was just as much into healthy living as Day Jinx was, and I wondered why their Day Aspects, who had so much in common, couldn’t get along. And then I remembered. It was because Night Jinx’s chaotic rampage in Blood in Your Eye had set off the chain of events that had caused Nathaniel to go completely, irrevocably insane.
I had a feeling there wasn’t going to be much conversation during the drive downtown.
* * *
Inside, Wet Dreams doesn’t look very impressive. Dim lighting, wooden chairs and tables, concrete floor, brick walls with no artwork or even neon beer signs. There’s a bar, of course, complete with tarnished brass rail and a large mirror on the wall behind it. The stools there are uncomfortable. I ought to know since my ass has spent a lot of time plopped down on one or another of them. Wet Dreams is open around the clock every day of the year, and there’s usually a decent-sized crowd there, no matter what time you show up. Today was no exception. The bar also tends to be more crowded in bad weather. Some Ideators and Incubi live on the streets, which is a lot easier to manage when you don’t require sleep. But rain, cold, and heat drives them inside, and Wet Dreams was one of their favorite destinations. All the tables had people sitting at them, and most of the chairs had been taken, and the barstools were all occupied as well. Wet Dreams’ clientele consists mostly of Incubi and Ideators, and normal humans who, for one reason or another, know about us. There’s no way to tell who’s who, not as long as Incubi are in their Day Aspects, which are almost always human-seeming. At night, however, the place looks like a scene plucked straight from one of Tim Burton’s most delirious fever dreams.
I recognized most of the Incubi there. Slynnc, Ms Flat, Luzifer, Groan, Zombeast, Aunt Oon, and more. All looking quite human in their Day Aspects, with no outward hint of the horrors they’d become in a couple hours. A few of their Ideators were present, but not all. Some of the Incubi no longer had Ideators due to a falling out or the Ideator’s death. Some of their Ideators were simply at work and would likely stop off at the end of the day.
The air was thick with the sound of animated conversation, but, as we entered, the room grew quiet and all heads turned to look at us. And then the applause began, punctuated with shouts of “Audra!” and “Jinx!” and various hooting and hollering.
Mordacity smiled. “I hadn’t known I was in the presence of celebrities.”
“You save a couple worlds from destruction, and everyone makes a big deal out of it.” I was extremely uncomfortable with this effusive greeting. I liked it better when people had given Jinx and me the hairy eyeball whenever we walked in.
We threaded our way through the crowded room toward the bar. People I knew – and many I didn’t – said hi to me, reached out to shake my hand, stood to give me a pat on the back. Some of them were criminals I’d put away before, and some were criminals that the Shadow Watch had been searching for. They didn’t worry about Jinx and me trying to arrest them, though. Wet Dreams is neutral territory. But, even so, their enthusiastic greetings surprised me. Jinx received the same sort of attention, although it was more restrained in his case. His Night Aspect frightened even battle-hardened Incubi, and people tended to be cautious around his Day Aspect because of it. At that moment, I envied him.
Mordacity seemed amused, and a bit wistful.
“This reminds me of the time Nathaniel and I came here after we brought down the Midnight Ravager. So many people wanted to congratulate us personally that it took us close to twenty minutes to cross the room.”
We reached the bar a lot sooner than that, and three people graciously vacated their stools so we could sit. One of them – a skinny pale man with red dreadlocks and wearing a Bob Marley shirt – seemed only too happy to give up his seat. He picked up his mug of beer and gave me a smile and a nod as he walked off. There was something familiar and almost mocking about the acknowledgement, but I was certain I had never seen him before. I decided not to worry about it and slid onto the stool he’d occupied. Jinx and Mordacity took the stools on either side of me.
Deacon Booze sauntered up to us, a big grin between his black handlebar mustache and beard. He’s a tall man, with broad shoulders, a barrel chest, long black hair which he wears bound in a ponytail, and a booming voice. The phrase “larger than life” was made for him.
“Hail the conquering heroes,” he said.
“Fuck off,” I muttered.
He laughed and reached below the counter. He brought up three drinks, one at a time, and set them on the bar in front of us. Mine was a steaming mug of black coffee, Mordacity’s was some kind of fruity drink complete with a little paper umbrella, and Jinx’s was a cappuccino in a fine china cup, served on a silver tray with a small biscuit cookie. He lifted the cup to his face and deeply inhaled the aroma of its contents.
“Bless you,” he said to Deacon.
Before I could ask, Deacon turned to me and said, “Don’t worry. His is decaf.”
If Jinx has any caffeine or alcohol in his system when night falls he becomes even more manic than usual. Kind of like the Tasmanian Devil on crack.
Deacon turned to Mordacity. “Good to see you in here again. It’s been a while.”
Mordacity smiled, but didn’t say anything. I wondered if the last time he’d visited Wet Dreams was with Nathaniel.
Deacon then turned to Jinx. “Excited about New York?”
Deacon’s business – his real business – wasn’t pouring drinks. It was buying and selling information. And when it came to that product, he was better stocked than anyone in either dimension.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t, but right now it’s far from certain that we’ll accept the promotion.”
Jinx carefully avoided looking at me as he said this. The hint of reproach in his voice was so mild, I doubted anyone but me could detect it.
Deacon glanced at me and raised an eyebrow.
Okay, maybe one other person besides me.
For a moment, I thought Deacon was going to ask me why we hadn’t accepted the transfer yet, but he didn’t. Instead, it was Mordacity who wouldn’t let the subject lie.
“Nathaniel and I worked in New York for years. It wasn’t the easiest post – you can imagine what sort of Incubi that city breeds – but we loved it. Is there some reason you’re reluctant to go there, Audra?”
“I just need some time to think about it, that’s all,” I said.
I took a sip of coffee and hoped Mordacity would take the hint. Thankfully, he did.
“So, what brings the three of you into my establishment on this fine day?” Deacon asked. “Might it have something to do with your trip to the beach last night?’
As far as anyone knows, Deacon never leaves the bar. He pours drinks day and night, and no one else works for him. He’s a total one-Incubus operation. But he always knows what’s going on, in both worlds, so it didn’t faze me that he knew about our encounter with Montrose.
“What do you think?” I said.
Deacon’s usual veneer of good humor faded and he became deadly serious. “I think it’s dangerous to have anything to do with shuteye, whether you’re making it, selling it, taking it, or trying to get it off the streets.”
Jinx and I shared a look. It wasn’t like Deacon to display such emotion. He considered himself a neutral party and he conducted himself as such, which meant he didn’t give an indication how he felt about the information he traded in – if he had any feelings about it at all. But it was obvious that this time he did.
“Strong words,” Jinx said.
Deacon’s smile returned, although it wasn’t as broad as before.
<
br /> “Shuteye is strong stuff,” he said.
“I’d say so, considering the number of fatalities it’s caused,” I said. I glanced sideways at Mordacity. “Not to mention other damage.”
Mordacity’s lips tightened, but he didn’t say anything.
“It was off the streets for years, but it’s been making a resurgence lately,” Jinx said. “As I’m sure you know. But, despite the Shadow Watch’s best efforts, we haven’t been able to learn much about who’s producing and distributing it.”
“That’s why we came to you,” I said. “If anyone on Earth or Nod knows–”
“No,” Deacon interrupted.
I was taken aback by Deacon’s response. Normally, he was unfailingly polite in a cheerful master-of-the-house kind of way. This sort of reaction wasn’t his style at all.
A nasty unwanted thought was beginning to burrow its way up from the depths of my mind. Maybe Deacon was so uncomfortable discussing shuteye because he had some kind of connection to it. Could he be dealing out of Wet Dreams? Or at least allowing others to deal? Was it possible that he was in charge of the entire operation? He was rumored to be an ancient, powerful Incubus, and he’d certainly have the connections to run a criminal enterprise and the experience to keep it hidden from the Shadow Watch. I’d never known Deacon to violate his strict policy of neutrality, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t.
“So you won’t help us?” I asked.
He scowled and pursed his lips. He looked like someone who’d just bitten into a pickled lemon.
“It’s not that I won’t,” he said. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Jinx asked.
“Because I don’t know anything, that’s why!”
He shouted this, and his voice cut through the bar’s din like a laser beam through soft cheese. Everyone became instantly quiet and turned to look at Deacon. His face had turned a pinkish shade of red from anger, embarrassment, or both. It was amusing in a way, considering that, when the sun sets, Deacon Booze becomes a bipedal pink elephant. But no one in the bar so much as cracked a smile, myself included. Deacon glared at his customers, and one by one they returned to their drinking and conversation, although now their voices were quieter. Most of them were likely discussing Deacon’s outburst, maybe wondering if the premier information broker had lost his touch.
