by T. G. Ayer
“Fine,” I replied curtly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I said as I jumped him back to my office, surreptitiously slipping into my physical body. If he was observant enough he’d notice I was dry, but he seemed more concerned about himself than his surroundings. So hopefully, he wouldn’t realize he’d been chased by a physical projected rather than a real person.
Best to keep those particular skills to myself for as long as possible.
Sweeny dropped to the floor with a loud thud the moment we arrived, splattering at least three bucketsful of seawater onto the wood floor, not to mention also soaking my rug through. Choking and spluttering, he glared at me as he held his throat and said, “Bitch. What you do that for?”
I shrugged. “I did ask nicely. Repeatedly.”
“You can’t do this,” he whined, swiping dark tendrils of wet hair out of his eyes as he straightened to sit upright. “Do you even know what is going to happen to me? The transition is...it’s going to be too quick.”
I smiled. “Then talk fast.” I felt a twinge of guilt at what I was doing to the guy but he was wasting my time. And he wouldn’t end up with any permanent damage anyway.
Sweeny coughed some more, then shook his head as he boosted to sit upright. His lower half was a dark bronze, scaled from hip to toe. As he gradually went through his transition, I could make out the form of a man’s muscular thighs beneath the now-translucent fishy exterior.
I really hoped he’d talk fast as I wasn’t looking forward to having a wet naked guy on my office floor. I’d have a bit of explaining to do if Saleem pitched up. Worse if Steph arrived unannounced.
I was about to prod him again, thinking I’d threaten him with a magical ward and pretend it was filled with acidic air or something. Thankfully, he spoke before I was forced to make up something on the fly.
Sweeny cleared his throat, waving his hand in the air in front of his face. “Fine. Fine. There was only one buyer for the Hennya. Name was Aereic. Hails from Barhsoon.”
“Any address?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
“How the heck should I know? I don’t go asking my clients for personal details. What do you think I am? An idiot?”
I laughed, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes. “That’s precisely why I know you know where I can find him. What kind of blackmarket dealer are you if you don’t keep tabs on your clientele?”
“Aargh!” Sweeny groaned, his expression partly frustrated and partly desperate. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Hey,” I said, raising my hands in defense. “Don’t blame me. You could have told me in your cave when I first asked the question. Not my fault everyone in the Melinus Quarter probably saw you being chased through the streets by some stranger. Imagine what people would think if I tipped a cop or two off? I also feel like I recall a hit-and-run at some point during your race to freedom.”
Sweeny let out a few expletives in a language I didn’t recognize, hollow notes with a few dolphin-like clicks interspersing his baritone enunciation. Then he said, “This better not come back to haunt me. Or I’ll sic a few of my own contacts onto you.” He managed to whine and sound vicious at the same time. It was actually hilarious.
I shrugged. “Nobody is going to know anything, Sweeny. So spill and you can go home before you brain starts turning to mush.”
He already looked a little green. Swallowing hard, he said, “Kleon Village, Bahrsoon. He’s got a place a mile east from the water well.”
I raised my eyebrows. “That’s it? You call that an address?”
He shrugged, then took a short breath. “It’s all I have. Follow the directions and you’ll find him. There’s not much out there anyway.” Sweeny took another breath and this one sound wet and gritty. Not a good sign.
“Okay.” I waved a hand and created a dome of energy around Sweeny. I really didn’t want to hurt the guy, no matter how much of my time he’d wasted. “I’ll go check it out. You hang out here just in case you’re messing me around. I’ll send you back as soon as I have the information I need.”
Sweeny let out a low gurgle, eyes wide as he stared at the field of magic. “No. I can’t stick around here for that long. It’s too quick,” he sputtered. Then, as he exhaled noisily, a thin stream of blood seeped from his nose and trailed down to his mouth where it paused and hovered on the edge of his lip.
I grunted, annoyed now, and irritated as air kept entering my throat through the gills--which was a damn strange feeling. But I’d also had enough of playing mind games. “Fine. You can go home. But if I don’t find this Aereic guy, I’ll come back to Atalanta and find you. That’s a promise you can count on.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I told you the truth so do what you need.” Sweeny sounded indifferent, nonchalant, but the tension in his eyes and the way he held his body told a different story.
I let out a sigh, glad that I would be done with the guy. As good-looking as he was, he’d turned out to be nothing more than a sniveling rat.
Still, I kept my end of the bargain, jumped him back to his shimmering multicolored cave before returning to my office. I grabbed a few towels from the closet, more to keep myself moving than out of real concern at the possibility of water-soaked floorboards.
On hands and knees, I wiped the floor, probably a little too viciously as I took my frustration out on the water and the floor in one go. Once I was done wiping up the mess Sweeny had made, I threw the cloths into the laundry sink.
I paused there for a moment, feeling a creepy fluttering in my neck as the gills vibrated, opening and closing at will. I was creeped out and curious, yet still reluctant to see what I looked like. At last, curiosity won and I headed to the front hall mirror to have a look at myself. I’d been dreading the sight, perhaps more because I knew there was nothing I’d be able to do about them until they faded away on their own.
I stood in front of the gilt-edged mirror, turning my head from one side to the next, studying the slits in my throat in both fascination and disgust. They didn’t move now that I was watching but they still looked weird enough that I found myself spinning on my heel and hurrying for the hall closet to find myself a scarf.
No way was I meeting anyone with those weird slits on show for all to see. Logic said anyone I bumped into would simply assume I was a mer-shifter in transition, or they would simply take it in their stride that I’d used a potion in order to complete a job. But I guess logic didn’t count for much when my head was screaming that this was totally not cool.
I shuddered as I tied the pink and purple checkered scarf around my neck, then readjusted to ensure it covered my entire neck, then retied it three more times before I was satisfied that there was no chance it would slide and reveal the gills.
Then, finally, I relaxed and took a deep breath. Time was ticking and I had to get on with the next phase of mission find-Samuel’s-killer. I used my phone to locate the portal to Bahrsoon, punching in my request and tapping foot impatiently as the app churned through unmpteen locations until it finally let off a success beep.
Having never been to the realm, I had little idea as to how to access the correct portal to get me close enough to Kleon. But now that I had the coordinates, I’d be able to get there without wasting time.
Seconds later, I took a breath and projected through the portal and into a sandstorm.
33
A thunderous wind whipped against me, and again I was glad I’d only projected. Going from the watery depths of an ocean to the middle of dry hot sandstorm was not what I would call a comfortable transition.
I shook my head, then suited to scan my surroundings without getting an eyeful of sand. I spent a moment wondering if I was going to have to deal with my friend Sweeny very soon, then decided I’d trust him. He really didn’t want me to go back and mess up his life in Atalanta.
I stood still for a moment, then transition to the ethereal plane that surrounded the realm of Bahsroon. From the ether, I scanned the area for signs of life. The problem with t
he portal coordinates that I’d accessed was the info didn’t tell me exactly how far I’d have to travel to reach any particular landmark or location. The ether was my best bet.
And sure enough, about three miles away, was a cluster of lifethreads, all close enough together to confirm some sort of settlement or encampment. The threads weren’t the usual tangled mess that indicated a city, but rather a small weave which implied a sparsely populated town.
One one hand, it would make it all the more easy to find Aereic, but on the other, a stranger like me would stick out like a sore thumb if I had to ask for directions.
I shook my head, determined to find the asshole who killed Samuel. I glided along in the ether in the direction of the small glut of lifethreads, then lowered myself to the physical plane to get my bearings. The dust storm still raged, but this time I could make out the glow of lights beyond the haze of whirling sand.
I skimmed the area, quickly getting a sense of the size of the small encampment with their domed yurt-style buildings all set in three rings with what masqueraded as a town center in the middle of the spiral.
And that was where I found the well. The problem was, which way was east? Standing within a sandstorm didn’t make it easy to figure out in which direction the sun could be found. If there was a sun in this realm.
I stood still for a moment, then turned to face what appeared to be a pub or a bar. Even through the wailing off the sandstorm, I could hear the raucous sounds of inebriated singing and laughter. I began to walk over in the direction of the noise and almost bumped into someone who was walking toward me, shoulders hunched in a vain attempt to protect themselves from the stinging sand.
I shifted to a more solid form and deliberately bumped into the person, giving them enough of a shock that they shrieked and spun around. “What the--?” said an old woman, the creases of her pale leathery skin at odds with her bright green eyes, assuring me that she was likely very much younger than she looked. Places like Kleon didn’t exactly do a person any favors in the looks department, especially if sandstorms raged more often than not.
“Sorry,” I yelled to be heard over the storm. “I’m a little lost. Can you help?”
She nodded, though she hugged herself even tighter, eyes trained on me reflecting wary suspicion.
“I have to deliver something to a guy who lives around here but all I got from my boss was a direct. East of the well,” I yelled and rolled my eyes.
The woman’s cackling was swallowed by the wind along with her words. Thankfully she pointed over her shoulder, saying something to me while shaking her head.
I couldn’t hear a word, but it didn’t matter. I now knew where east was. I blinked and before I could thank her she faded away, as though disintegrating to become part of this horrendous storm.
I sighed, annoyed and frustrated but all the more determined. I stalked off into the storm, following the direction the woman had indicated. After walking for a while, I shifted again to the ether and scanned the lifethreads.
The thing with a person’s essence is their lifethreads also tell a story about their spiritual selves. Just like auras, lifethreads displayed a range of colors all twisted within themselves, each color reflecting something about the owner’s temperament and mindset.
Sadly it wasn’t as easy as having a color-coordinated indicator chart conveniently on hand because every person’s colors were different. One person’s black could indicate evil, while someone else black was simply a passion for a particular subject.
There was one thread though, in the distance and in the right direction, that contained a dense collection of magenta energy lines. The colors were so tightly woven that I knew instantly they indicated a concentration of some emotion or need. Whether it was anger, love, or evil, I couldn’t tell. Still, it was all I had to go on and I followed my gut.
Seconds later, I hovered in the ether directly above the owner of the lifethreads that now glowed an even darker stronger magenta. Inside the yurt, soft yellow lights glowed and threw a sickly haze over table in the middle of the single space. The air was dense, cloudy from the sandstorm finding their way in through various nooks and crannies.
A pale-haired man sat at the table, unmoving, spine bent as he squinted at a small object small under what appeared to be a microscope. On closer inspection, I discovered he was studying the contents within a syringe—nothing special to look at, just a stock-standard medical syringe easily obtainable if one needed it. Inside the syringe, a dirty orange liquid appeared to bubble and writhe, reminding me a little too much of the Retesn that Ash had spilled all over her lab floor.
I shifted to a more solid projection inside the room near the person’s door, certain now I’d found who I was looking for. Ash’s notes on the toxin had been pretty specific and had also included a few images of the liquid, and although he didn’t appear to be working on the very element she’d been tracing, it was enough to see that he was mucking about with something deadly, and probably for nefarious purpose considering his profession.
Circumstantial evidence be damned. I knew I’d found Samuel’s killer. But he was a assassin-for-hire, which mean he was by no means my last stop. Once he gave me the identity of the person who hired him, I’d finally be able to resolve Samuel’s murder, and take this killer and his boss back to the EarthWorld to answer for their crimes.
I took a step toward the table, my movement causing the man to snap upright and stare at me. His eyes were a swirl of color, making it all the more difficult to ascertain his race.
I knew nothing about this realm, but it didn’t matter.
The man’s eyes widened as I said, “Aereic?”
“What do you want?” he asked, his tone even, as though people appeared out of thin air inside his yurt everyday. I had to give him points for keeping his cool.
“I want to know who hired you to kill Samuel Fontaine,” I asked, keeping my own voice as neutral as possible. No need to tell him outright that his answer was personal.
The man stared at me for a long moment, the dull light glancing off his short-cropped platinum blond hair. “You really expect me to tell you who my client it?”
I rolled my eyes. That response was certainly getting old. “Look. I really don’t want trouble for either of us. Just give me the name and I’ll be out of hair.”
He got to his feet slowly, unfurling himself to his full height which turned out was closer to seven foot. But if he though his height would intimidate him, he was in for a disappointment.
Then, without the slightest warning, he was darting to the left, hand outstretched, reaching for something. At first I thought he was making a run for it, perhaps fleeing to the door. Turned out he was well prepared to fight. He dove to the floor, did a quick forward roll and grabbed a shotgun from beneath a large bed.
I simply stood and watched as he took aim and said, “I’d advise you to get the hell out of my house. I don’t know who you are, but I don’t just hand out information to random people just because they ask me too.”
I tilted my head. “What exactly would encourage you to part with that information?”
He blinked, caught off guard at my question. He flicked the safety off his gin. “You have three seconds to get the hell out of my house.”
I listened as he counted down the time and then pulled the trigger. I just stood there, shifting from my physical projection to a non-corporeal one just before the bullet would have hit my chest.
I had expected for the little missile to pass through me without any damage. I was wrong.
Pain exploded within my chest and I glanced down to see blood blossoming on the fabric of my shirt.
Shit. The asshole just shot me.
34
Pain exploded in my chest and for a moment I was too stunned to think. How the heck did he manage to injure me while I was only in an astral projection? Had the coralin affected me in some way to make me vulnerable to injury? The potion was the only thing I could think of because it didn’t ma
ke any sense.
I sucked in a breath and blinked hard, pushing through the pain to focus on the killer. He’d been the one to end Samuel’s life and it didn’t matter that he’d worked to carry out someone else’s orders.
Fury began to build within me, a familiar need to hit out at something, to expend my anger on something. Someone. I glared at Aereic, eyes hot as I took a step toward him, sensing an odd power blazing in my eyes.
He raised his weapon again, mouth curling in a triumphant sneer as he pulled the trigger, but this time I was prepared. He wasn’t about to get one over on me again. With a brisk flick of my hand, I threw up a dome of protective energy around me. The magical ward sealed just in time and the bullet simply bounced off the exterior network of energy, like a kid jumping on a trampoline.
The assassin’s eyes widened and he took a step back, though his finger remained firmly on the trigger. But I was done playing games, especially after having to chase that idiot Sweeny all across the underwater city.
I thrust out my hand, palm open, and sent a ball of magic at him. The energy I’d summoned was different this time, more angry, more intense. More in tandem to the agony flaring in my chest.
Dark fire flew at Aeriec, knocking his legs out from under him. A few flames from the sphere of magic clutched to his trouser legs and he spun about to dust them off. In his desperation to avoid being burned alive, he’d forgotten about the danger I presented.
Nicely distracted, he gave me precious moments in which to approach him. I grabbed the Persian dagger from my boot, took two steps forward, and slipped the pointy end up under his chin. I’d gotten close, which could be dangerous, but I was throwing caution to the wind, my fury buoying me along, burning white-hot fury enough to shut out the pain of the wound in my chest.
Aeriec grunted as I pressed a little hard, then stilled his movements even though the cuff of his pants was still on fire. Outside the yurt, the sandstorm kept raging, a good enough match for the storm consuming me. The keeping of the wind whistling through the gaps in the walls only matched the silent screams of pain that rang inside my heart.
