Embracing the Shadows

by Gavin Green

  On the left side of the screen, Enric Tomasino held steady in a battle stance. He hadn't pulled his sword yet, but I figured he was well-practiced at pulling it pretty quick. Cowering behind Tomasino was Edward Galloway, whose expression was a weird mix of satisfaction and scared shitless.

  Barely in the camera's view on the right was the Norse priest, Michael, who was trying to hold back his wild-eyed lunatic of a matriarch . . . or dark mother, or bitch, or whatever. Ragna kept her ice-blue glare on Galloway, snarling and straining against Michael's desperate grip. Her scarf had come loose, revealing her nightmarish chin and neck. Something had made her go ape-shit, and she was holding the cringing Adept responsible. Ragna and I finally had something in common.

  "What made her snap, sir?" I asked as we both kept our eyes on the monitor.

  "Good question," he murmured. "I will have the answer soon enough."

  Ragna was just breaking free of Michael's grip when Barnabus ran forward, tackling her. Together, they held the dog-woman in place and spoke calmly to her. She stopped straining, lying on the floor under two grown men, but still stared daggers at Galloway. He was looking anywhere but back at her.

  Tomasino said, "Mr. Merritt, please allow elder Ragna to stand if you think it safe to do so. It is unfitting to have someone of her esteem pinned to the ground, even with her transgression."

  I thought that was a very bad idea. Barnabus thought so, too. "She is still beyond reason, Mr. Tomasino. If I might suggest, do not meet her stare and please remove Mr. Galloway from sight." I guess just the mention of his name set Ragna off again. She shrugged off both Barnabus and Michael, getting to her knees. Damn, that twisted cripple was strong. They reclaimed grips on Ragna's arms, holding her in place and denying her the chance to get to her feet.

  "Vanquish her," came the command from off-screen. I remember Le Meur's voice well; it was normally warm honey, but right then the honey was cold and mixed with venom.

  Skala shifted the cam in her direction. The Doyenne stood three steps up on the wide staircase behind the circle of onlookers. Coiffed hair, flawless skin, shimmering dress, big amber eyes; it was tough to forget her. Wait, forget tough - it was impossible. At least for someone with a working dick, that is.

  Frowning, Tomasino turned his head toward Le Meur. "Milady?" he asked, apparently surprised.

  "Doyenne," Barnabus called out, "elder Ragna is subdued. There is no rea -"

  "I gave an order," Le Meur said coolly, interrupting him. "Stake the dog-woman, have her bound, and bring her to me before dawn. See to it, enforcer."

  Even from three hundred yards away, I could feel the tension. It was thick in the van, too; shadows were coming off of Viggo like creepy tendrils - pulsing, crawling . . . yearning. I felt the urge to go sit back up front with Kurt, who had a much smaller chance of making me piss my pants.

  On screen, Tomasino reluctantly began to pull the sword strapped to his back. The camera moved; we realized that Skala had stepped out from the crowd, facing Tomasino and Le Meur. "With all due respect to your worthy and earned positions in this city," Skala said formally to them, "I request that you allow a Deviant to deal with one of his own. Not to undermine your authority, enforcer." Tomasino shrugged.

  "You must be Doyen Aldo Skala," Le Meur said. The audio picked up whispers of other hemos repeating his name. "While I am honored to have a visitor of your status in my city, why would I allow you to remove the offender? Your faction would no doubt show her lenience. Justice would not be served."

  "There is no contesting that elder Ragna has violated one of the rules of Civil Ground. She will not be spared fair and stern punishment. Her offense will be dealt with accordingly. On that I give you my word. One of the reasons for my presence in your city concerns her. Grant me the burden of Ragna's penance; I am sure that equitable recompense can be negotiated for your clemency."

  "He's pretty smooth," I commented to Viggo. He merely nodded, and then said, "You will notice that Lady Le Meur did not ask the reason for Ragna's unhinging. I believe she already knows why."

  "It's pretty obvious it has something to do with Galloway. Ragna wanted to rip him apart."

  "Yes . . . the tool takes the blame for damage done. The wielding hand can easily feign innocence."

  The cam angle showed Le Meur standing there, weighing her options. The crowd waited. Skala suddenly moved; the camera swung and spun. I was pretty sure he bent over and turned around. I caught a quick glimpse of Ragna's wide eyes and hands gripping her shoulders. A few hemos gasped. Skala stepped back, steadying the shot. Ragna was still kneeling, but a big shard of wood was jammed in her chest. The dog-woman was staked. Her previous expression of demented fury was replaced with one of surprise.

  The camera spun again. Skala turned back to Le Meur and said, "I hope that satisfies your reservations."

  She smiled faintly and nodded. Skala called his other minion, Karl, to carry Ragna back to his limo and guard her. Barnabus led the stunned Michael away from the scene. Le Meur moved forward through the dispersing crowd and stood in front of Skala. From the angle, I could only see from the bottom of her jaw to just below her tits; most of the screen was filled with the top half of a shimmering red dress.

  "And what exactly brings you to my city?" Le Meur asked.

  "Business."

  "Hmm. If it is a new endeavor that you are researching, perhaps Realm Management could help you explore the possibilities. The recompense you owe might be found in a joint venture."

  "Ah, no. Let me clarify; family business."

  "Is that so? Your progeny resides here under my fair rule? Do you mean . . ."

  "All in good time, Lady. When you convene your subjects, I shall formally present myself and make my reasons known."

  Barnabus found Skala a short time later in the billiards room, saying that Michael told him what made Ragna go nuts. Sometime during the day, a car that was eventually found out to belong to one of Galloway's minions was seen driving through her domain. The people in that car set out large amounts of poisoned meat in vacant lots. Almost all of Ragna's pets, plus other animals attracted by the smell, were dead by the time she woke. I could easily picture her flipping out about that.

  The two continued talking, this time in English. Barnabus had just asked Skala what he planned to do with Ragna when Moses Dupree - wearing a new suit - politely interrupted them. "Excuse me, elder Skala, emissary Merritt. The Doyenne has called for a convening in the great room."

  Hot damn, game on.

  CONVENING

  As Viggo and I walked down the dark, quiet street with opulent houses on either side of us, I asked, "What are my orders, sir?"

  He kept his gaze fixed on the Everett mansion ahead of us. "Stay one step behind me and to my right. If I give an order, you need not answer - simply do it. Do not speak unless I ask you a question, and do not reply to anyone else who might address you directly."

  Viggo's shadows of anger hadn't started dancing again yet, but I was sure it was only a matter of time.

  We crossed over onto Everett's lawn and approached the front. Cantrell was on a stepstool, nailing a blanket over the frame of where the door used to be. Dykowski saw us coming and signaled her partner. Cantrell pulled one edge of the blanket aside and said something to whoever was in earshot inside. Recognizing me, they stood tense on either side of the hung blanket. "Good evening, sir," Dykowski said to Viggo, ignoring me with everything but her piggy eyes.

  Viggo paused at the entryway, giving the detectives a chance to react to his true appearance. Jet-black eyes fixed on Dykowski; she gulped and began to sweat. Keeping his glare on her, Viggo asked me, "Do you wish to address these two before we go in, Mr. Beck?"

  "Yes sir, thank you." I glanced from Cantrell to Dykowski. "I don't care about your badges or who you really work for. If I ever see either of you again, expect pain - a lot of pain."

  Both of their stares kept switching from me to Viggo, but they didn't say shit. Probably a wise choice. I stepped forwa
rd, pulled the blanket aside, and we stepped in.

  The last time I was in the Everett mansion, it was dark and quiet with a lingering odor of gunpowder and blood. This time the place was annoyingly bright, crappy instrumental music played through the house speakers, and the cloying scent of roses wafted by. The current ambiance was the lesser of two evils.

  Waiting in the foyer for us was Dupree. He steeled himself for Viggo's grotesque appearance and cold black eyes. Wisps of shadow had begun to lift and sway off of my commander's form. Dupree's eyes went wide and he took a step back. "May - may I have y-your name, sir?" he forced himself to ask.

  "Lead me to your Doyenne," Viggo growled, sounding like death itself. Without another word, Dupree turned and led us to the east wing of the mansion. "You remember my voice and attire from the other evening downtown, yes?" Viggo asked him as we walked. Dupree nodded quickly. "Then you would be wise to stay in my company for the time being."

  Past the large dining room was a short, wide hallway. It opened up into the great room, an area with a two-story high ceiling and enough space to seat forty people. The crowd of twenty-plus hemos and minions was gathered in the near half of the room, all facing away from us. Around a few bodies, I could see Le Meur sitting in a fancy chair next to a large unlit fireplace at the far end of the room. Tomasino stood nearest to her. We stayed back and listened to the conversation in progress.

  The Outsider elder Jack Fletcher was voicing his concerns about two members of his faction who had been missing for some time. Le Meur said that she shared his distress because two of her own people couldn't be accounted for, and another had been taken by a powerful stranger. She turned to Barnabus and asked if the Deviants were having the same problem. He nodded, admitting that Pedro Viera and Harlan couldn't be found or contacted. Nervous murmurs filled the room.

  Putting his left hand on Dupree's shoulder as a reminder not to run off, Viggo leaned toward me. "I see you craning your head," he whispered. "Who are you looking for?"

  "Mr. McKenna, sir," I answered just as quietly. "I didn't see him on the monitor. Here, either."

  "While Mr. McKenna would find refuge on Civil Ground, it would only be temporary. I presume that the Doyenne has put the full weight of her influence into all but destroying him. You've had a taste of Le Meur's power, Leo; she has used the same Gifts and more to keep key mortals under her thumb. Police commissioners, corporate heads, and directors of social media - her local manipulation is expansive. Were Mr. McKenna here tonight, authorities would no doubt be alerted and waiting for him once he left the grounds. He would not fare well in a holding cell that had a window . . ."

  "So he's on the run?"

  "A fugitive, yes. His home, his properties, even his vehicles cannot offer a safe haven. I suspect that his assets have been seized and his accounts frozen. Declan McKenna finally overstepped his bounds in his attempts to subvert Emmeline Le Meur's dominion."

  That had to suck for McKenna, not that I felt any pity for him. He was used to money and nice shit and throwing his weight around. And then, suddenly, he's forced to grab what he can and disappear. His minions - Blake and the other one - would be watched, too, so crashing with them wasn't an option. Neither was getting help from anyone in his loose-knit faction, not even his sire Fletcher; no one would want to share McKenna's trouble. He was fucked, simple as that.

  In the great room, other comments were being made about various faction members in the past that simply disappeared. I figured that if Viggo was involved with all of those cases, he had a good reason.

  Le Meur refocused the crowd's attention on announcements of introduction. First was a hemo who moved from Florida and wanted to make K.C. her new home. She introduced herself as Isabel Greco of the Adept faction, and said she was an artist of different mediums. Art, shmart - I was only interested in her exotic and dangerous looks, probably a blend of Asian and South American heritage. Le Meur welcomed Greco to the city, promised they would speak again soon, and then moved on.

  The next announcement kicked my ass. "By my allowance, one of the Outsiders has brought another strong individual into the night," Le Meur stated. "Jade Clayton, please step forward."

  A fairly petite, tattooed woman walked to the center of the room. Faded jeans tucked into knee-high boots, gypsy jewelry, and an unbuttoned jean jacket vest with a t-shirt underneath - she had a certain style. Her pale white skin contrasted to her dark red hair, pulled into a long braid. Jade was cute rather than beautiful; her large brown eyes added to the effect. I looked closer and saw that her black t-shirt had neon lime lettering that said, 'Soylent Green - Tap the Resource'. I found out later what that meant.

  "Thank you, Doyenne," Jade said to Le Meur and then turned to address the other guests. "Nearly two months ago, I was granted the right of progeny. I was of course elated and honored. My issue was that I had no human in mind to award with the dark exchange. So few of them are worthy these days, as I'm sure you all know." Jade was comfortable with public speaking, that was for damn sure. "The Doyenne knew of my plight, and kindly offered choices from her own pool of minion candidates." She turned back to Le Meur and continued. "I am happy to say that I selected one of those choices, considering him worthy to join our numen ranks. Doyenne, I present my scion, Cordell King."

  No fucking way.

  HERALD

  Cordell King - my buddy Cord - stood and went to Jade's side. He must've been sitting in one of the chairs against the wall, or else I would've noticed his big frame. I didn't understand . . . Cord, a new hemo? I was stunned. My mind was a blender full of questions.

  Towering over Jade, Cordell didn't appear to be confused or nervous at all, as I might've expected. His demeanor was stern and proud. He also had a whole new look. Cordell used to be painfully predictable with his constant wardrobe choice of slacks, polo shirt and blazer. In casual settings, he took off the blazer. Going along with his change of species, Cord wore his military boots, black jeans, a long-sleeved pullover that clung to his muscles, and a sleeveless motorcycle jacket. His brown eyes had somehow lightened in color, emphasized by his dark skin. A new look for a new badass.

  Cord turned to the Doyenne, bowed and mumbled a few words. She nodded to him and asked Jade, "The exchange was recent, no? I can sense new blood coursing through him."

  "Last night, Doyenne."

  "I thought your faction was of the habit to test a new scion's mettle, leaving him to his own devices for a time. Did you doubt Mr. King's ability to survive?" The question didn't come off as insulting; it was more like creating conversation. It was clear that Le Meur and Jade Clayton got along, or pretended well.

  "Quite the contrary, Doyenne," Jade said with a smile. "Mr. King learned to be resilient long before I met him, so I saw no need to put him through our trial of determination." That was true. Cord never spoke of his childhood much, but I knew he had it rough. His mom died young, his dad worked all the time, and he had to watch over his little sister. Living in a dangerous neighborhood didn't help. I bet every day was a test. Cord finally enlisted at nineteen; the Corps gave him a whole new set of challenges.

  Le Meur congratulated Jade and Cordell - basically a polite dismissal. When they stepped away, she announced, "Tonight, we have the pleasure of having an unexpected guest among us." She stood and held one hand out in Skala's general direction. "Here to present himself at our Gathering, I am honored to welcome the Doyen of Munich, Germany, the renowned Herr Aldo Skala."

  Confidently stepping out into the open area, Skala scanned the semicircle of hemos with a disapproving glare. That made me smile. He slowly turned toward Le Meur. In his gruff voice and thick accent, he said, "I told you I was here on business - family business. To be clear, that does not include elder Ragna, who is not of my line. I did not come here for her, nor am I here to present myself to the likes of you, Lady Le Meur. I, Aldo Skala, come to this Gathering as a herald."

  Obviously pissed but trying not to show it, Le Meur asked with a snotty tone, "A herald? For who?"


  Skala turned his back on her and held his arms out wide to the crowd. "I am the scion of the walking shadow . . ." Viggo's outline began to lose definition. He moved Dupree aside and started forward.

  ". . . The offspring of stygian vengeance . . ." Skala continued. The room ahead began to subtly darken and gather a gloom, like someone was turning down the dimmer knobs for the chandeliers. Shadows of the guests began to move of their own accord, sliding up the walls and twisting into grotesque shapes. Everyone in the room was suddenly either tense or openly scared.

  ". . . And the keeper of oaths," Skala concluded. "You all stand in the presence of a true Eidolon, as bugs under a heel. None of you are worthy." His utter contempt for them was nearly palpable, like a slow, lingering punch in the face. "To all of you undeserving numen, I present . . . the Veleti."

  RECKONING

  In front of us was Barnabus and Skin; both stepped out of the way. Just as Viggo strode into everyone's view, the fireplace spontaneously roared to life with flame. A few hemos screamed in surprise and alarm. Shadows slithered along all the walls, all forming into constantly shifting demonic shapes. I'd seen Viggo do something like it before, but not to that degree. A number of the hemos were reacting to the new, threatening ambiance like I did the first time I saw it. Three minions ran out of the room in fear.

  Skala bowed to my commander and then stepped away. Viggo turned his gaze around the room, never letting his menacing black eyes linger. "To those of you who have the ability to gauge truth from lie," he said with a voice of burning gravel, "consider these words and let your senses be the judge. I am Viggo of the Veleti, Eidolon of the Deviant faction and eldest of all conscious numen."

  "Truth," Barnabus said loudly. Moses Dupree echoed him. Edward Galloway fell to his knees and bowed his head in the presence of one of his false gods. Tomasino yanked him back to his feet.