by Gavin Green
"Hmm," he commented, as if screaming raccoons were mildly interesting. "Fine work, Leo. I know of a safe place to store this stranger for now, so I will take him with me. What did you tell Mr. Fletcher?"
"Nothing yet, sir - I won't see him again until Monday night, and he never gave me a number to call. I'm not sure if he even has a phone. I figure the guy that this bastard slaughtered in the park will be found before then, so Mr. Fletcher can deal with that if he wants."
Viggo clicked off the flashlight. "Once he learns of it, he will go to Ragna for answers. You should visit her again to alert her before Mr. Fletcher comes with questions. In any event, you are supposed to be her minion, so an occasional appearance in her domain might be warranted."
"Yeah, okay," I said with a sigh. "I have to go pick up my money this weekend anyway."
Once Viggo left with the hemo and I went back inside my house, I finished my drink and went to bed. I fell asleep with the sour thoughts of having to deal with the crazy bitch again.
MICHAEL
It was too late for the Wise Owl Wok to be open when I got there the next night, yet there were a couple of lights on inside. Ragna's huge dog, Gungnir, was sitting outside the door of the place, so she had to be inside. The same attractive Asian woman unlocked the door for me, so I stepped over the dog and went in. Ragna was sitting in her favorite booth, watching me intently as I sat across from her.
Before I could say anything, a young waitress set a steaming plate of cashew chicken and a Coke in front of me. When she left, I asked Ragna, "You were expecting me?"
"I was told you'd show up tonight, and that you'd have an interesting story to tell." Ragna reached into the layers of her filthy clothing, pulled out a wad of cash and set it next to my meal. I was surprised as hell; I didn't have to ask for my pay and then get insulted for asking.
"You were told, ma'am?" I asked before taking in my first bite. I was pretty hungry by then; I didn't eat much during my late lunch with Gwen. Having to lie to my friend ruined my appetite.
Ragna nodded. "Clara Page - you met her once, yes?" My mouth was full, so I just nodded back. "Quite the talented one, our Miss Page; she is . . . She is not my progeny to speak of personally. Occasionally, she finds her way to my neighborhood to play with my pets and tell me things she's seen." Ragna's gaze drifted off as she went on. "A lovely girl, although she . . ." Her eyes snapped back to mine. "So, Beck, I hear you've been busy. Quit shoveling food in your mouth like a starved pig and entertain me with a tale before we leave."
"We're going somewhere, ma'am?" I asked around a mouthful of delicious food.
"Oh, yes," she said with a curious twinkle in her eye. "I think you're due some enlightenment."
While eating as much as I could, I told about my run-in with the blood lusting hemo. I remembered to tell Ragna that Fletcher might come around wanting answers about why there was a dead man (and a dismembered raccoon) in one of his parks that I patrol. With the way she nodded - you know, like a story you've already heard - I think she already came to that conclusion. It reminded me that someone can be bat-shit crazy and smart at the same time.
Once we were in my car - without any dogs for once - Ragna gave me directions back to the little theater building where I first saw Elias, a.k.a. Edward Galloway. The modest brick building, formerly known as the Ovation Community Theater, had a new sign up: Midgard Hearth. Under that, it said, An Asatru Fellowship. I knew what a hearth and a fellowship were, but other than that I had no idea.
Without me having to ask, Ragna filled me in as we walked toward the front doors. The way she kept sampling my thoughts could get pretty irritating. "Midgard is the realm of Earth - one realm of nine. In the Old Norse tongue, Asatru basically means 'belief in the gods'. This is now a Norse house of worship."
"Oh, that's why you wanted the deed for this place. You made it your own church."
"No, you halfwit; I gave it to my scion, Michael. He is a Gothi - that is, a priest of the Norse faith. He made it his own church, and tonight he holds his first gathering. Many years ago, during your human's Second World War, Michael was actually a Christian priest." She chuckled before adding, "I fixed that."
I kept my mouth shut. First, I had no idea Ragna had a hemo offspring, for lack of better words. I wasn't sure what to expect with Michael; I could only hope he wasn't much like his sire. Or was that dam, or maybe dame? I didn't know, and I wasn't going to ask. Secondly, I wondered if Ragna brought Michael into his Norse beliefs with reasoning, or if she changed his faith with a Jedi mind whoopin'. I hoped it wasn't the latter; doing that to your own progeny was a new kind of sick.
Gothi Michael - it sounds stupid when I say it. Anyway, Michael turned out to be a pleasant surprise. He was an averaged-sized guy in his thirties. He had short, dark hair and a full beard, with a little white mixed in both. He was one of those guys with a natural charisma and an easy smile. Michael wore what I'd guess you'd call a tunic; it was white with decorations at the end of the elbow-length sleeves. Around his waist was a wide black belt, with black slacks underneath the tunic. On his wrists were thick leather bands, and he wore rings on both hands. As priest attire went, it was pretty sharp.
Best of all, Michael had no noticeable deformities like most of the other Deviants did. He looked like a normal, happy guy who shook hands with every person who showed up . . . all sixteen of them. Only a few of the small congregation had that vagrant look; the rest appeared to be common folks. Being a bit paranoid, I scanned the big room for anyone I might recognize, and was relieved to find I didn't.
Ragna didn't go down near the stage to greet her scion, but instead took a seat near the back away from the others. Michael noticed her, smiled, and gave a slight bow.
The theater was decorated differently from the first time I saw it. Except for a couple of weak spotlights, most of the area around the stage was lit by a lot of big candles that made it look cozy. Long banners hung down the walls, embroidered mostly with the shapes of eagles, stags and trees. Down in front of the low stage was a long, heavy wooden table holding cups, plates, pitchers of some sort of drinks, and what looked like loaves of homemade bread. Michael invited everyone to have some, and most of those that did went back for seconds.
Soon enough, Michael was up on stage and began to talk. Unlike Edward's sermon, Michael treated the small crowd like they were friends he was telling stories to. Or maybe like students he was eager to teach. He tried to involve them, asking first names and simple questions that he wove into his examples of explaining the basics of his Norse religion. There was no condemning of other faiths, just a focus on the core of Asatru. Overall, Michael kept it light and informative. He didn't make a believer out of me, but he did keep me interested and entertained.
Throughout the hour and a half that Michael taught us about his religion, I kept thinking that he was a decent guy. Surprising, because of all the hemos I'd met, only Viggo and Barnabus were likeable. I had to remind myself that Michael might seem cool, but he was still a blood-sucking predator.
Along with the free food and drinks, Michael passed out Asatru calendars and pamphlets of the tenets of his religion after he concluded his homily. He thanked everyone for coming out and shook hands with them again as they left. When the last person passed us on their way out, Michael came up the aisle. Ragna told me to go get something to eat and drink while they talked. I hesitated. She plucked the thought out of my head and told me that her scion didn't taint anything with his blood. I helped myself to cider, mead, and rich bread while I waited.
I was washing down a bite when I saw a tall woman step into the auditorium from the lobby. I pulled my Glock and marched up the aisle, stopping next to Michael. The woman was fairly attractive, with long, straight dark hair and darker eyes. She wore cowboy boots, tight jeans, and a leather vest with nothing underneath it. Both of the woman's arms had sleeves of totem-style tattoos. She stood calmly at the door with her thumbs in her pockets.
Ragna didn't even turn her head to see w
ho we were looking at. "It's been a long time, Katala," she said to the woman behind her, "but you still reek of bird shit."
Katala didn't say anything for a long second, I guess refraining from returning the insult. "I am travelling with Jack tonight, elder," she said softly. "He would like a word with you."
"Tell him I'll be along in a minute," Ragna replied, and waited until Katala walked away. Then she stood and said to me, "You might actually be useful for once. Come with me."
While Michael stood there confused and started to ask what was going on, I followed Ragna toward the lobby. I didn't really notice if he trailed behind us or not; I was too busy worrying about what kind of shit the psycho dog-woman was going to get me into this time.
UNEMPLOYED
"Why did your minion leave a dead body in my park?" Fletcher said as a greeting from thirty feet away when Ragna and I came out of the building. What a charmer. The woman named Katala stood a few strides away from him out in the street. She had a big raven on her shoulder. I looked up when I heard a squawk, and saw dozens more of them perched on nearby power lines. Okay, that was disturbing.
"Did you expect Beck to contaminate a crime scene?" Ragna asked in response. "There was blood all around the human victim, and a trail of it leading away to another gore-spattered location. Did you expect him to clean it all up in the dark?"
That shut him up for a second. In a calmer tone, Fletcher said, "From what I can gather, it is being reported as an animal attack for now. I want to know if that is true. It is my domain, after all."
"Your domain . . ." Ragna said the words slowly. "Yes, it surely is. Evidently, elder Fletcher, your contacts do not compare to mine. Soon enough, some coroner will find saliva on the victim. He'll find the same saliva on a dismembered raccoon not far from the scene. That saliva belongs to some worthless young vampire. I surmise that he lost control and blood-lusted in your park. And the authorities now have his DNA. Supernatural DNA found in your domain. My, that would certainly rip the veil, wouldn't it?"
It was easy to see that Fletcher was getting severely pissed. The thick hair on his arms was standing, and his head lowered like an animal's would before it attacked. "What do you want?" he growled.
I could almost feel the tension as I glanced around. There weren't any people out walking, although an occasional car drove by. Katala's hands were balled into fists, and her birds became restless. Fletcher's arms were away from his body with his hands spread open. Ragna seemed cool as a cucumber. I inched my hand toward my shoulder holster, trying not to be obvious.
"What do I want?" Ragna asked casually. "Seeing as I have the means to alter those reports - whereas you certainly don't - and save you from the torch or the chopping block . . . Well, let me see . . ."
She had Fletcher over a barrel and was taking the opportunity to fuck with him. I thought that was a very, very bad idea. Fletcher was on the verge of rage. His claws had grown out, and he'd pulled his shades off to reveal those glowing orange eyes. "Tell me . . ." His words barely sounded human.
Ragna waited a moment before she said, "Let's start with your eternal servitude and go from there."
That pushed him over the edge, and from there a number of things happened at once. Fletcher bellowed like a beast and began to charge at Ragna. Somehow, Michael was suddenly behind Katala and snapped her neck like dead wood. I pulled my Glock and put four rounds in Fletcher's chest. He hardly flinched and just kept coming at us. I raised my aim for his head when Ragna yelled "STOP" with her hand out, palm facing him. Surprisingly, Fletcher came to a skidding halt right in front of us. I felt the urge to shoot him again as he stood there.
"Ragna," Fletcher began, still furious, "you will -"
"Leave," she hissed, her ice blue eyes still glaring into his, forcing the command into his head. Fletcher turned and walked away. I just stood there with my mouth open, watching him go.
"Someone probably called the police by now," Michael said. "Gunshots aren't common around here."
Ragna ordered me to pick up Katala and bring her inside while Michael ran to get something to tie her up with. Even a broken neck wouldn't keep a hemo down for long.
I dropped the body in an aisle of the theater-turned-church and said to Ragna, "I guess that means I'm not working for Fletcher anymore . . ."
"I'll miss the money," she said, "but you'll be better off in the end. Fletcher is a fanatic for a lost cause, and it would probably have gotten you killed. You're welcome."
"I'm supposed to thank you?" I glanced to make sure Michael wasn't returning yet, and then quietly said, "Viggo wanted more information about Fletcher's plans. Now I'm screwed, and you get him owing you big time. I guess you could order Fletcher to hand over the list of people he wanted me to hit, but then he'd just change his targets afterwards. So yeah, okay, thanks for that," I ended sarcastically.
Michael hurried from the backstage area with a roll of duct tape and handed it to me. I started binding up Katala nice and tight while he and Ragna discussed the events. From what I could gather while I wrapped tape around the body, Ragna knew to contact Michael earlier that night because of something Clara Page had said. Michael apparently had a minion who worked at the medical examiner's office. I remembered Shawn telling me something about that. Okay, Ragna wasn't bluffing.
Something caught my eye and I looked up. Flickering shadows started to form out of nothing in mid-air right behind Michael. Before Ragna could say or do anything, a hand - Viggo's hand - reached out of the shadows and yanked Michael into them. Just like that, he was gone. The shadows faded a second later. If I didn't already know what was going on, I would have pissed myself. I almost did anyway.
Ragna looked around frantically. Two seconds later a larger collection of shadow gathered near us, creating a large, wavering black hole. Viggo stepped out of it, staring sternly down at her.
Barely able to meet his glare, she timidly asked, "What did you do with Michael?" Wow, the crazy bitch sounded like she cared as much about him as she did her dogs or her shopping cart.
"I safely moved him to a location not too far away. I wanted him gone so that I might speak with you candidly. I assume your scion is still unaware of my existence?"
"Yes, Veleti," Ragna nodded her head nervously, "I've told him nothing."
"Make sure it stays that way. I do not care what story you tell Michael about how or why he was pulled through a void, except for the truth. You will keep your word to me, Ragna."
"Yes, of course." she meekly answered. Watching Ragna cower in front of my angry commander . . . I was enjoying the hell out of it.
"I know what happened here tonight," Viggo stated with a deep voice of tumbling gravel. "I watched as you cleverly, greedily, turned the situation into your own gain. I cannot blame you for that, but in the process you have thwarted one of my plans and inconvenienced me, Ragna. You have also placed my minion in danger from the Outsider faction, if Mr. Fletcher can rally them all. As of now, Mr. Beck must be removed from your care. If asked, say that he was an irritation and you fed him to your dogs."
Holy shit, now I had the Adepts and the Outsiders after my ass? Hopefully the other hemos would buy Ragna's story that she offed me. Otherwise, I'd have to move and not get a damn penny for my house. I'd also have to stop going to all my regular places. Like Shawn once said, I'd have to stay off the radar, only this time forever.
Viggo leaned down closer to Ragna and said menacingly, "You have disappointed me, Ragna. For your own sake, do not . . . ever . . . impede me again." I saw her shrink back into her rags. If I hadn't just got fucked over, I'd have been grinning like a madman.
Standing straight and turning to me, Viggo said, "To be cautious, you will need to relocate. Hopefully, it will only be temporary. Gather supplies from your home. I will be waiting at the location where the woman named Natalie served you breakfast. Go."
It was obvious he didn't trust Ragna anymore, not even with which Deviant safe house I'd be at. Grateful that I wouldn't have to put up w
ith the dog-woman anymore, I smiled as I walked out.
HIRED
I thought about my situation while I packed guns, ammo, booze, clothes, toiletries, non-perishable food, and a couple of old photos. There was a good side to the whole mess. Mainly, I presumed I'd be able to serve Viggo directly from then on. I also no longer had to worry about taking orders from demented hemos and forced into scenarios that went against my grain. Still, I wasn't able to do anything I pleased. But, with Viggo personally looking out for me, I wasn't too worried about the other factions.
With my paranoia on a higher notch than normal, I took an indirect route to the building that sat in an old industrial part of town. I was sure I wasn't followed, and relaxed as I neared the place. Some hunched form I didn't recognize held open the tall fence gate to the small parking lot in the back, and already had the one of the two big delivery doors open for me to pull into.
Viggo stepped into the garage bay and leaned on the van parked next to me while I was unloading my Jeep. "Welcome back, Leo," he said without a hint of humor or sarcasm.
"Uh, yes sir, thank you." I adjusted a strap on my shoulder and asked, "So, uh, who's that man out in the parking lot?"
Viggo waved his hand nonchalantly. "Ah, Milo - he is merely a lowly servant who sees to the most basic of chores. His capacity is diminished, so he's poor company otherwise." As Viggo spoke, Milo shuffled inside and pulled the overhead door closed. "Set down your bags so that we can sit and talk, Leo. Milo will bring your things up to a room he's prepared for you."
As I set the duffel bags down, I asked, "It's not the same room that I was in last time, is it, sir?"
It wasn't quite a smile from Viggo, although the corner of his mouth twitched. "No. Come."
I followed him into the building proper. He paused when he got to the wide entryway to the break room and said, "If you like, find a snack and then meet me upstairs in the lounge."
