Daemon

by Doug Dandridge

  “Heading out on the morning tide?” he asked the ensign, looking back over his shoulder at the cityscape behind. The tall buildings in the center of the city never failed to impress him. There were several dirigibles in the sky, the safer but more expensive way to travel. He watched as one maneuvered around the mile high edifice of the Daemon Building, its large central globe dimmed in the daylight.

  “I really can’t answer that sir,” said the Ensign, following his gaze to the island the city was built upon. “Perhaps the Captain could tell you.”

  Jude nodded his head, thinking of how silly the military could be with its traditions. It was all well and good to keep secrets when there was an enemy to fight. The Shadows were not an organized enemy. They would not formulate a plan to wait for the convoy at a designated spot, based on the information they had overheard. No, they would just be where they were, and luck, good or not, to those who crossed their path.

  A sailor on the small floating dock on the side of the ship caught the line from the launch, then tied them off. The two policemen left their flotation devices behind, then climbed the ladder up thirty feet of armored ship’s side to reach the deck. Another Officer, this one slightly older than the first, waited for them, and led them up a trio of ladders to the bridge area, where he knocked on a door and opened it when the man inside called out. Jude glanced back over the ship from the higher vantage, noting the three forward turrets with their massive guns and the nine open barbets on each side housing smaller weapons.

  The Officer opened the door and he and the Sergeant were ushered into the Captain’s day cabin, where the business of the ship was conducted.

  “Gentlemen,” said Captain Travis McTavish, in his undress white uniform, rising up from behind his desk and coming around to meet them with outstretched hand. A cigar sent up smoke from an ashtray on the edge of the desk.

  “Glad to meet you, Captain,” said Jude, grabbing the hand and feeling the strong grip of the man. The Officer shook Montoya’s hand next, then motioned to the pair of seats in front of the desk while he moved back to his chair.

  “I hear you had some excitement last night, Captain,” said Jude, looking into the man’s eyes.

  “I would say that, yes,” said McTavish, a serious expression on his face. “I really didn’t think we would meet such a monstrosity in harbor, despite the cautions we have received from the admiralty.”

  “Cautions?” asked Montoya, pulling out a notepad.

  “Nothing definite, gentlemen,” said the Captain with a wave of his hand. “Admiralty is worrying that some of the large shadows we encounter at sea might try to slip into the harbors. I couldn’t see that happening here. Not with that massive lamp on the top of that big building at the end of the island. It would have to get through the passage under that light to get to us. I guess it’s possible, if it was a deep diver. But the entrance isn’t that deep.”

  “Just how deep is it?” asked Jude, looking over at a painting of this ship battling some enemy about a century ago, when men still worried about what other men might do.

  “The Bellerophon draws about thirty feet fully loaded,” said the Captain, “and we make it through easily. Some of the colliers draw almost as much. So let’s say thirty-five to forty feet.”

  “And the magical light can reach down that far?” asked Montoya, scribbling in his notebook.

  “Easily,” said the Captain. “We project our own light over the side while we’re at sea. It keeps anything really nasty from trying to come through the hull.”

  “But you still prefer to sail in daylight,” said Jude, looking back at the Officer and seeing the man grimace.

  “It’s just better to have all the protection you can have,” said the man in a quiet voice. “And all that the ships we’re escorting can have. Even with all our defenses, ships are still lost to shadows.”

  “How effective are your weapons anyway?” asked Jude, thinking of the massive artillery he had seen on the bow of the ship.

  “Pretty damned effective,” said the Captain, steepling his fingers on the desk. “The twelve inch and the five inch both carry dual purpose warheads. Standard explosives and magic charges. They can kill anything we’ve ever run into. And myself and several of the senior officers can call up spells. I think we still rule the waves.”

  “I would like to talk with the Seaman who first saw this thing,” said Jude, watching as Montoya folded his notebook and put it back in his pocket.

  “I’ll have the Lieutenant show you to his work station,” said the Captain, standing and coming around the desk to show them to the door.

  Moments later the detectives were on the big deck in front of the guns, talking with Able Seaman Benning. There were also plenty of other men on the deck, holystoning the wooden planks over the steel armor.

  “It was the damndest thing I’ve even seen, sirs,” said the Seaman, standing at attention despite their telling him to relax.

  “Have you been on any voyages with this ship?” asked Jude, glancing over at Montoya, who had his notebook out and was jotting away.

  “Yes sir,” said the man, nodding his head with a slight motion. “I’ve been on half a dozen convoys. And one trip to the other continent, across the ocean.”

  “That must have been quite a trip,” said Montoya, smiling at the sailor. “Any girls in the ports.”

  “No ports, sir,” said the sailor. He hushed for a moment and glanced around him to see who might be listening, then leaned forward.

  “The whole place was dead. Or at least such as we could see from the water. Just blowing sand and dead trees. We had to fight our way back too, once whatever was in charge of that land figured we were there.”

  “So you’ve seen some monsters,” said Jude, and the sailor nodded his head. “Was that red vortex like anything you’ve ever seen?”

  “No sir,” said the sailor, straightening his spine. “I swear on my mother’s grave that it weren’t like anything I’ve ever laid eyes on. I looked at it and felt a new kind of fear, I did.”

  “But your weapons killed it,” said Jude, glancing up at the gun tubes that projected overhead.

  “So my Gun Captain said,” agreed the sailor. “And the Captain. But I don’t believe it.”

  “And why don’t you believe it?” asked Jude, frowning.

  “Because I saw the red bastard disappear before those rounds struck the water. Just the instant before they struck it was gone. Like it didn’t want to be there, and didn’t care much for what we were doing.”

  “Thank you, Seaman Benning,” said Jude, holding out a hand and waiting for a moment before the sailor took it. Jude didn’t think it was because the sailor had anything against him in particular, but more because of the class system of the navy. “Have a good voyage,” he said as he pumped the Seaman’s hand.

  “It’ll be good if we make it back,” said the young man with a look of fear in his eyes. “Not something any of us look forward to anymore.”

  Jude turned and walked away, heading for the gangway down to the floating dock.

  “How long before we can no longer even voyage on the water?” he asked his partner as the Officer unchained the barrier and let them through.

  “Only God knows,” said his partner as they walked down.

  And he ain’t telling, thought the Detective Lieutenant as he followed his partner down.

  Chapter Eight

  The opera house was as opulent as anything Jude had ever seen. Gold leaf was worked into the wallpapers that depicted scenes from the city’s history. Great chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and polished wood adorned all the railings and doors. Most of the patrons were just as opulent, wearing suits and dresses of the finest fabrics, pocket watches on gold chains, necklaces covered with gems or pearls. Jude paid it scant attention, all of his focus on the beautiful woman on his arm.

  Sarah Stranger was enchanting in her blue gown, even if not of the most expensive fabric, her deep blue eyes roaming the entry hall, a smile o
f delight plastered on her face. Jude thought she was the most beautiful, the most precious, object in this room. A woman who didn't have need of artificial adornments to highlight her natural charms. He could see some of the other men looking at her, then at him, probably wondering what he had to attract such a partner.

  “Hope you didn’t get into trouble with your Church friends,” said Jude, looking down at his companion. He thought of the fools that had been walking the sidewalk outside the opera house, holding up signs admonishing the Council of Mages for their inactivity in letting the world deteriorate. In much stronger language than that of course. All because the mages of the Council were known to frequent this, the most exclusive of the many opera and theater venues in the city.

  “They’ll get over it,” she said, waving off his statement.

  Jude laughed and led her on into the lower seats, the cheap seats as they were sometimes known, as if anything could be cheap in this venue. He showed his ticket stubs to an usher who led them to their seats. The light of the chandeliers were bright overhead, and would remain so for the entire performance, so as not to risk the appearance of Shadows. Jude often wondered what it was like when people could be comfortable with darkness, not needing everything lit up like day. The usher pointed out their seats and they made their way through the obstructing knees of those already seated.

  Both looked around after they were seated. They were surrounded by women wearing elegant gowns and expensive jewelry. As out in the lobby, Sarah’s natural beauty made her lesser baubles come off well in comparison. Jude was wearing his best suit, but felt threadbare compared to most of the men, many of whom wore tuxedos. He started scanning the balcony seats, where the rich and famous had their private boxes. His policeman’s eye took stock of everyone he saw, running them through his mind as far as history. He noticed that Sarah was staring at one box in particular, the one nearest the stage on the right side, in the lower tier. He followed her gaze and stiffened as he recognized the occupants.

  Lucius Daemon sat in his box, leaning over the railing as he looked at the crowd. His pale face contrasted with his black tuxedo, his graying black hair falling over his shoulders. Next to him sat a short woman of about the same age, her jet black hair cascading over her black dress. The necromancer, Yvette Daemon, gave out a chilling aura that repelled most that came into her presence. Jude knew that the woman performed a vital function as head of the Undead Bureau. Zombies were needed to perform many of the tasks that humans would or could not. But they were still distasteful to most, as were those who worked with them.

  She and her husband both sat on the Council. Only Kevin McDermit was a more powerful mage. But this was a team, and no one was willing to take on the pair. Some thought it unfair that the husband and wife team sat on the high governing board, since they always voted together in a block that gave them more power than any other single mage. But no one could say that the woman did not deserve to be on the Council in her own right, and it was not to be disputed that Lucius belonged, so Daemon Corp had disproportionate power in the government.

  Sarah looked away and back at Jude. She touched him on the arm and got his attention.

  “Do you know them?” she asked, looking back at the Daemons.

  “Mostly by reputation,” he said, watching the couple closely. “I met the man during this recent investigation. It was his employees being killed, after all.”

  Lucius Daemon noticed Jude and locked eyes with the policeman for a moment. Jude felt a chill run down his back. He was sure the man would do nothing to him here, in this very public venue. In other places, he was not sure. The look in the Mage’s eyes was not reassuring. Daemon looked away and turned in his chair back into his box, saying something to someone in there and then gesturing toward Jude. A man with coarse features looked out of the box and at Jude, nodded his head, and moved out of sight. The Mage then looked away from Jude and said something to his wife, who glanced down at the Detective and then away.

  What was that about, he thought. Can't be anything good, can it? He dismissed the thought, then shrugged his shoulders. He was sure he would find out soon enough.

  “Have you ever been to a performance of Bella Donna de Milan before?” asked Sarah, looking at the stage curtains that were due to open in a couple of minutes.

  “No,” answered Jude truthfully, not saying that he found opera overbearing and outside of his tastes.

  “It’s a story of love,” she said, smiling, holding on to his arm with both her hands. “The young lovers are from rival families in the city’s nobility. They are forbidden to be together, but rebel and find a way.”

  To Jude it sounded like some of the slushy romance novels other women he knew read. Just put to music. Then the curtain went up and the stage was filled with a multitude of people, all singing at once. Maybe it was life that had matured him, or he had changed in some ways due to his recent losses. Maybe it was the company he was keeping, the beautiful woman holding his arm, her excitement clear on her face. But whatever the reason he found himself enjoying the performance. He got caught up in the tale, even presented in another language, with Sarah whispering the story to him as it was revealed on stage. He stood with the rest of the crowd as the curtain closed on the intermission, clapping and cheering as loudly as the rest of them.

  “I need to visit the ladies room.” said Sarah, getting up from her seat along with most of the crowd.

  “Would you like something to drink while I’m up?” he asked, smiling. “Nonalcoholic of course.”

  “I would like a wine,” she said, flashing a smile. “There are no restrictions on drink in our church,” she said in answer to his questioning look. The smile reversed into a frown. “I was just worried about a man who showed up to a murder investigation smelling so strongly of alcohol. I would suggest a tea or a seltzer water for you though.”

  “Yes ma’am,” he said, though the thought of a drink did bring back the mental cravings. He pushed that thought down and followed her out of the auditorium.

  “You Parkinson?” asked the coarse featured man when Jude walked through the double doors into the lobby.

  “That would be me,” he agreed, looking into the man’s cold eyes.

  “My boss wants to talk with you,” said the man, jerking a thumb toward the curtains that led to the stairs.

  “And that would be?”

  “Lucius Daemon,” said the man with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “And he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  “Then let's not keep him waiting,” said Jude with a nod. “My time is valuable after all.”

  The man gave a snort and turned away. Jude followed the man, wondering what the Council Member could want with him at this time. Thoughts ran through his mind as he followed the man past a Security Guard there to keep the common people away from those who moved and shook society. Through the curtain and up the steps to the first tier of boxes.

  Maybe he's angry that I'm taking time to be out on the town, thought Jude, instead of spending every moment working the case. But I'm a citizen. I'm allowed to take some time off for myself. The coarse featured man led him to the last door of the hall and knocked twice. A voice called out and the man opened the door.

  The Daemons had their chairs turned around to face the door as he entered, the open auditorium to their backs. Lucius looked at the Detective with fiery eyes, while Yvette pursed her lips. The man gestured for Jude to have a seat, next to the second body guard who still sat in the room.

  “Detective Lieutenant Parkinson, is it not?” said Lucius, a cold smile on his face.

  Jude nodded, thinking of the smile a crocodile gave just before it bit down. He glanced at the wife. Her look was as cold as a snake’s, even more terrifying than that of her more well-known husband.

  “Yes sir,” he answered, calling up the words of a defensive spell that he was sure would not stop this man. He was more comforted by the feel of the heavy revolver under his jacket.

  “I mean y
ou no harm, Detective,” said the male Daemon, reaching over and picking up a wine glass. “I was curious to know why you are sitting in the seats I gave to a Mr. Stark. Perhaps you are friends with him?”

  “Mr. Stark approached me yesterday while I was engaged in my investigation,” said Jude, his face reddening with anger. “He offered me the tickets after admitting to a distinct dislike of opera.” And what business is it of yours anyway, thought Jude, feeling his fear melt away, for the moment.

  “And how do you like the opera, Mr. Parkinson?” asked Yvette in her child’s voice.

  “I have not really cared for it in the past,” said Jude, holding her gaze with some effort, anger again winning the battle as he looked into the reptilian eyes. “I have found it more interesting than I had imagined it to be.”

  Jude could feel the wills of the two mages beating on him as they spoke, trying to look into his mind and see his thoughts about the matters of interest to them. He knew that someone without any training would be an open book to these two. Jude used the training he had received in the army to block them from his mind. They could still get it if they wanted, but he didn’t think they would display that kind of power in a public place.

  “Who is the young lady you are with tonight?” asked Yvette, frustration marking her face as she gave up the effort to read the man.

  “Yes,” said Lucius, nodding. “Exceptionally beautiful. Wife? Girlfriend?”

  “Just a friend,” said Jude, feeling sweat break out on his back and forehead. He didn’t like them asking questions about Sarah, and didn’t trust that they were well meaning. He decided to turn this talk around, and maybe put them on the defensive.