Incarnation

by Kevin Hardman

  “How’d you find out where Gamma died?” I asked.

  “We always knew where it happened,” he replied. “We sensed it. But since we couldn’t go back in time, we didn’t know exactly what had happened — until you gave us the idea.”

  “Glad I could be of service,” I intoned. “Also, the way you guys reconstructed everything was impressive.”

  Rune made a dismissive gesture, downplaying my praise. “As I stated before, when it comes to Incarnates, much of what we do can be most likened to magic, which is why many on Earth consider me a magician of sorts. In terms of reverse engineering what happened, you have to understand that, visually, we Incarnates see the world very differently than you do. But much like a bomb expert might investigate a crime scene in order to figure out what caused an explosion, we were able to examine the area of Gamma’s demise and ascertain how events unfolded.”

  “So you did the Chomarsus equivalent of looking at shrapnel, structural damage, and debris to understand what happened,” I summed up. “And then you recreated it.”

  “In essence.”

  “So what’s the story with the statues coming to life?”

  “That was the killer’s handiwork, of course.”

  “So it was an ambush?”

  “Not exactly,” Rune said. “They weren’t really there to hurt us. They were there to keep us from seeing what happened to Gamma.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “Because they weren’t anywhere near powerful enough to cause real harm.”

  “Speak for yourself,” I chided, then relayed how the statues went into super speed and appeared to affect me to some extent even while I was phased.

  “As you’re probably starting to realize,” he stated, “you’ve got an impressive power set, but it’s not remotely comparable to what an Incarnate can do.”

  I nodded, not needing to be convinced — especially when, upon reflection, I recalled that the Incarnates had been moving at super speed as well while fighting the statues.

  “That reminds me,” I said. “Is everyone okay? I couldn’t help but notice that a couple of people didn’t come through unscathed.” I then mentioned Reverb and Mariner.

  “They’re fine,” Rune assured, “as is Static, who got jabbed in the leg with a spear.”

  “Good to know,” I said. “Guess some people are just stoic about getting a knife in the eye.”

  Rune laughed. “You have to understand — that wasn’t even a light skirmish for an Incarnate. For Mariner, that was probably akin to playing with a kitten and accidentally getting scratched.”

  I pondered on that for a moment, and then asked my next question. “So what happened to them — the statues, I mean. One moment, they were all around; the next, they were in pieces.”

  “That was Reverb,” Rune answered. “He spoke.”

  I looked at him in surprise. “He destroyed them with his voice?”

  “Yeah. Frankly speaking, you’re lucky to be alive. Fortunately, Reverb had the presence of mind to turn away from you so that his words weren’t uttered in your direction. Still, there aren’t many outside of Incarnates who can claim to have heard his voice and lived.”

  “Well, it’s not like I got away without a scratch,” I reminded him. “Reverb’s voice almost rattled my teeth out of my skull. Tell him to use his inside voice next time instead of shouting.”

  “Ha!” Rune laughed. “That wasn’t a shout. That was a whisper — and a barely audible one, at that.”

  I blinked, taken aback by the implications of Rune’s statement. Needless to say, if that was a whisper, I didn’t want to be anywhere around if Reverb ever decided to speak in a normal tone.

  “So,” I said, getting my mind back on track, “was it also Reverb who made the shattered statues start glowing?”

  “No, that was the murderer,” Rune declared. “I brought us back to our suite just before the remains of our attackers exploded.”

  “Okay,” I droned, mulling that over. “I understand what happened now, but why step up his game and try to kill everyone at the end by blowing us up?”

  Rune shook his head and gave me a patronizing look. “Did you forget? The killer is an Incarnate. He was in there with us.”

  I reflected for a moment on what that meant. “So you’re saying he wasn’t trying to kill everyone in that explosion?”

  “Correct. The explosion was intended to destroy the room where Gamma was killed. Using your bomb squad analogy, it’s like destroying the crime scene, as well as any evidence like bomb fragments, debris, and shrapnel.”

  “Wow,” I muttered. “You’re better at this detective stuff than you let on.”

  “Not really,” he confessed. “This was just one of those times when it was easy to put two and two together.”

  “Still, that explosion only happened minutes ago.”

  “Enough time to figure out that we wouldn’t be able to recreate the scene of Gamma’s death again. Figuring out the rest was kind of elementary after that.”

  “And extremely helpful,” I noted. “Since we know that the murderer basically set up the ambush and booby-trapped the room, maybe we can trim the list of suspects by figuring out who has an alibi with respect to those things.”

  “I already know the answer to that,” Rune declared. “No one.”

  “Huh?” I mumbled, confused.

  “No one has an alibi,” he stated.

  Chapter 21

  I looked fixedly at Rune for a moment before speaking.

  “Bearing in mind what just happened in the room where Gamma died,” I said, “are you honestly telling me there’s no one we can exclude from our list of suspects?”

  He let out a sigh of exasperation. “It’s not that easy.”

  “Sure it is,” I countered. “Let’s just take it from the top, starting with who knew that you were planning to reverse engineer the crime scene.”

  “Everybody,” Rune stated. “We planned on everyone participating, so they all knew.”

  “And who knew when it would happen?”

  “Again, everybody. You can’t have participation if the participants don’t know when to show.”

  “So, between you telling them about it and the actual showtime, who had an opportunity to set something up?”

  “This is where it gets complicated,” Rune explained. “Look behind you.”

  Frowning, I turned around — and then stared in surprise. There, leaning against the back wall, was Rune. However, rather than his current garb, this version of my companion was dressed as a stereotypical cowboy. He wore jeans, a leather vest, cowboy boots, and a ten-gallon hat. (And just to complete the picture, he had a wheat straw sticking out of his mouth.) Smiling, he raised a hand and tipped his hat to me.

  Somewhat dumbfounded, I spun back around to find the “original” Rune still in place. I opened my mouth to speak, but Rune held up a palm in my direction, cutting me off.

  “Wait for it…” he droned.

  A second later, Mariner appeared at a spot about ten feet to Rune’s right. Quite honestly, I was surprised that he appeared hale and whole — not like a guy who’d had a blade in his eye just a few minutes earlier. (In fact, I had mentally envisioned him sporting an eye patch the next time I saw him. Instead, the only thing different about his present appearance was that his coat was open, revealing sculpted pecs and abs, along with water-formed trousers.)

  Mariner gave Rune a steely look. In all honesty, I don’t even think he realized I was in the room.

  “Really?” Mariner said. “We were even, but you want to start things up again by hurling lightning bolts around my quarters? Use them to etch your name on the ceiling?”

  “Sorry,” Rune said flatly, not sounding sorry at all. “That was an accident.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Mariner grumbled. “So’s this!”

  He gestured, and something like a pike — but made of water — flew at Rune, who batted it aside. Unfortunately, he swatted it in my direction.


  Acting on instinct, I phased as the water-pike broke into pieces — all of which came hurtling at me. Reflecting on what had happened with the statues in the other room, I experienced a moment of worry, but the remnants of the broken weapon passed through my insubstantial form without me feeling anything. As I turned to watch, they struck the wall where cowboy-Rune had been standing, gouging deep chunks out of it.

  I swung back around to where Rune and Mariner were still facing off. The former was still slapping his colleague’s projectiles aside, but the resulting fragments were practically destroying the room, tearing through furniture, walls and more.

  Without warning, a geyser erupted beneath Rune’s feet, carrying him up until it slammed him into the ceiling, then letting him drop unceremoniously to the floor. He was up in a moment, hurling something like a snowball at Mariner, who — now wielding what appeared to be a watery whip — struck it in midair. Almost immediately, the whip froze, with the frost traveling not only the length of the weapon, but up Mariner’s arm to the elbow.

  Mariner made a jerking motion with his arm, shaking off the frost. Even more, his whip was now encased in flame, much as his sword had been earlier. He drew his arm back, plainly intent on using the whip to inflict a punishing strike on Rune, whose hands were now glowing as he prepared to employ some new weapon (or defense) of his own. However, before either made another move, Endow appeared, standing between them.

  “Enough!” she roared, glaring at the two men.

  “Okay, okay,” Rune said sheepishly, holding up his hands — which were no longer glowing — defensively.

  “Yeah,” added Mariner, whose whip had also vanished. “We were just goofing off.”

  “Well, you two — with your horseplay and juvenile pranks — need to stop before you destroy this castle,” she scolded.

  “Fine,” Mariner acquiesced. He waved a hand, and the entire room returned to its former, undamaged state, with the walls once more whole and the furniture intact. He then smiled at Rune and said, “Until next time, Inscrutable.” And then he vanished.

  Endow turned to Rune expectantly. “Well?”

  “I was just demonstrating to Jim how none of us have an alibi,” he explained. “Basically, we can practically be in two places at once, and we can affect things outside our presence.”

  “Like making lightning strike in a colleague’s room?” she chimed in, causing Rune to look a little embarrassed. She then looked in my direction. “So, was Rune’s little spectacle beneficial?”

  Becoming substantial again, I shrugged. “I don’t know. It certainly didn’t help eliminate any suspects, which is what I was gunning for. In essence, Rune’s demonstration shows that no one has an alibi.”

  “Well, are there other options for narrowing the list of suspects?” Endow asked.

  “Nothing immediately comes to mind,” I admitted. “Under ordinary circumstances, I might be able to use my empathic abilities to read the room and try to whittle the list down that way. Unfortunately, I can’t really sense the emotions of Incarnates. In fact, Static is the only person I’ve been able to pick up on.”

  As I finished speaking, I noticed Rune and Endow exchange a glance.

  “What?” I asked, realizing something unspoken had passed between the two of them. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing really,” Rune said. “It’s just that we should have realized you’d sense something from Static.”

  “Because of his relationship with Gamma,” Endow added, “it’s no surprise that — emotionally — he’s having trouble keeping things contained.”

  “So, were they an item?” I asked. “Dating? Was he in love with her or something?”

  Endow gave me a look that hovered somewhere between aversion and repugnance. I got the impression that she wanted to wash my mouth out with soap. No, it was more like she wanted to wash it out with soap, scour it with a steel brush, and then rinse it with bleach.

  After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Endow said, “She was his mother.”

  My eyes widened in surprise. “Oh.”

  Well, that explained Endow’s look of distaste and disdain.

  “Wait a minute,” I blurted out as a thought occurred to me. “They were mother and son? Don’t you Incarnates have some kind of ‘No Nepotism’ policy?”

  The other two exchanged another glance, and then Rune put in, “Uh, yeah…we’re circulating a draft around the office.”

  Ignoring him, Endow stated, “It’s uncommon, but not unknown or unprecedented for two Incarnates to be related.”

  “So which of them was an Incarnate first?” I asked.

  “Gamma,” Rune said. “She was an Incarnate long before Static was even born.”

  “Is that important?” Endow inquired.

  “Probably not,” I admitted. “How’s he taking her death?”

  “Just as you’ve seen,” Rune said. “No real outward display, but apparently some internal turmoil, which you’d expect — even from a Chomarsus.”

  “Hmmm,” I muttered. “Why ‘apparently’?”

  “Huh?” Rune said.

  “You said that Static ‘apparently’ has some inner turmoil,” I explained. “Wouldn’t you know for sure?”

  “No,” Rune declared. “I based my comment on your assessment.”

  “Incarnates typically don’t try to read each other that way,” Endow chimed in. “Just as we don’t try to read each other’s minds.”

  “Is it considered rude, or something?” I asked.

  “It’s not so much that,” Rune answered, shaking his head. “It’s just that it’s another exercise in futility. Like reading their minds, you’ll only pick up what a Chomarsus is willing to share, and even then you won’t know if it’s a sincere emotion.”

  “Unless it’s a situation like this,” I opined, “where someone like Static is dealing with something incredibly emotional.”

  “Yes,” Endow agreed. “I recall it happening with Gamma before, when one of her other children died.”

  I frowned, thinking. “She had other children?”

  “Yes,” Endow replied. “Long before Static, however.”

  “Natural causes,” Rune said. “They grew old and died.”

  My forehead wrinkled as I reflected on that. Parents outliving their kids had to be painful — even for beings like Incarnates.

  “Okay,” I conceded. “I can see how Gamma would have found that distressing.” I didn’t even want to think about what it must have been like for Static to help recreate her last moments.

  “You have to understand,” Endow remarked. “As Incarnates, we’ll still be alive after the sun goes out. We all had to make our peace with the fact that we would outlive loved ones.”

  “Not if the murderer has anything to say about it,” Rune interjected.

  “That brings up an interesting point,” I said. “We haven’t established motive, so we don’t know why Gamma was killed. Without that, there’s no guarantee that the murderer will strike again.”

  Endow looked at me with a curious expression. “Are you suggesting that we just do nothing?”

  “Not at all,” I assured her. “It’s just that I’ve been operating under the assumption that the killer will be looking for his next victim, and that may not be the case. Gamma may have been the only person he wanted out of the way.”

  “So you’re saying that, after blowing up the room where Gamma was killed, we may never hear from him again,” Rune summed up.

  “It’s possible,” I acknowledged, and then frowned. “Speaking of that room, why can’t you guys recreate it?”

  “What do you mean?” Endow asked.

  “Well, the murderer destroyed that place because he didn’t want us seeing what ultimately happened,” I said. “But just like Mariner repaired everything in here” — I made a gesture encompassing our current environs — “why can’t you guys put the room back the way it was so we can finish seeing what occurred?”

&nbs
p; “It’s a bit more complicated than it appears at first blush,” Rune stated. “What Mariner did here was basically just a repair job. You can liken it to a handyman coming to your house to fix a hole someone knocked in the wall. Say he puts a drywall patch over the hole, slaps some joint compound on it, sands it down and then paints it. When he’s done, the wall looks the same as it did before, but it’s not exactly the same because now there’s a covered-up hole in it, for one thing. Likewise, we can repair the room so that it looks the same as before, but it won’t be the exact same room.”

  “And because it’s not the same room, you can’t reconstruct the crime scene again,” I concluded.

  “Precisely,” Endow confirmed. “Maybe if we had our full sivrrut, but not with our current limitations.”

  “Okay, but you guys still have all kinds of abilities,” I countered. “Can’t one of you read some tea leaves or look into a crystal ball and see what happens in the future — see if there’s another murder?”

  “Again, we’re outside of space and time,” Rune reminded me. “There’s no ‘future’ here, as you understand it, for us to see.”

  I sighed in exasperation. “You know, for a group of near-omnipotent beings, you guys have made helping you impossibly hard.”

  “Of course,” Rune chirped. “Do you know how boring life is when everything is easy?”

  Chapter 22

  Since revisiting Gamma’s last moments was now out of the question, I really only had one clue to follow up on: her last words.

  “She was shouting ‘No’ and ‘Cerek,’” I said to Rune and Endow. “I didn’t see anyone else during the reconstruction, but it implies that her laamuffal was in the vicinity.”

  “It sounds plausible,” Endow conceded. “Do you think he was involved in the attack on her?”

  “I think you guys likened it to fleas murdering a human,” I replied. “Seems unlikely.”

  “I don’t think Endow was suggesting that Cerek killed Gamma,” Rune clarified. “I believe she was implying that he might have assisted the murderer.”