by Gavin Green
Viggo called me the next evening to say that I was no longer wanted by the police, and that a short statement of my innocence would be released the next day. It was a weight off my shoulders. I hoped it also meant I could no longer be listed as missing, if only for Miss Loretta's peace of mind.
Part of me wanted to move back to my old house, just to try and reclaim whatever little bit of normalcy I could find. But what would that be? I mean, I wasn't going back to work at Silas or at Keegan's again. To tell the truth, I felt a lot more secure in my new place (I started calling it 'the thunderdome', after my cat). Plus, not having to pay any bills was a big bonus.
I once again had some freedom, and wanted to use it to stop by for a visit with my former neighbors. While I was in that area, a few drinks at Keegan's sounded good, too. If my luck held up, maybe Tanya would give me some hot 'I-missed-you' sex. Work schedule permitting, I hoped that all of those scenarios became semi-regular events.
A text to Gwen was returned immediately, saying that 'Mr. Stone' called her as well. I figured it was up to Viggo if he wanted her to know the truth or not, so I left it alone. Gwen also mentioned that Cordell had quit Silas abruptly; over the phone, he only told her that he accepted another position that started immediately. Again, I had to bite my damn tongue.
I tried to call Viggo to ask about Gwen's clearance, but couldn't get through. He must've gone down below the city somewhere. On the hemo-net, I left the question about her in the Planner. A message was already in there for me, saying that Barnabus would be arriving later that evening. The reason for the visit wasn't stated, but Barnabus was good company . . . as long as I didn't look at him too much.
I spent my time with a drink and Thunder, researching the Veleti tribe until Barnabus showed up. Once he got there, we discussed a few hemos I noticed at the Gathering. I knew of a number of them, but I was curious about the ones I didn't recognize.
The Adept Nathan Powell was the business brain behind Realm Management. Outsider Lexian Grimm owned a seedy bar that served humans and hemos alike, with a corral of prostitutes that did the same. Jade Clayton, who I was really curious about, had a syndicated radio show that catered to the activist and rebel demographic. I wasn't sure why she chose Cordell; he was a live and let live kind of guy, or at least used to be.
Barnabus checked on Phillip to gauge his 'Doyenne detox level', as I put it. He also wanted to practice his Gift of Control on a resisting mind. When he joined me in the lounge, I had a few more questions about hemos in comparison to the legends. No reflection in mirrors? Bullshit. The concept of ringing bells to run 'em off was, as Barnabus put it, "the most idiotic fallacy I have ever heard of in my extended life".
I then mentioned the time that I saw Harlan in a parking lot, pissing on a car. Barnabus told me that a small percentage of Deviants can ingest regular food and drink, but get no nutrition from it. They do it only for the purpose of expelling waste to disgust unsuspecting onlookers. Apparently, pissing on someone's shoes or vomiting on their evening gown was quite the party trick at hemo Gatherings.
The last topic of the evening was about Phillip. I was worried about him missing, and the stress it was no doubt causing his family. Barnabus said he managed to find out that Phillip told his father he was taking some time off to travel - a lie created by Le Meur. I was relieved to hear it, but still wanted him to get back to his normal life. Barnabus confided that he was just beginning to acquire the ability to alter or remove memories, but he'd do his best when Phillip was once again his old self.
Waking up the next day without much of a hangover, I did the necessary crap and then checked Viggo's Planner for any updates or pending chores. Nothing there - I had the day off. Still being cautious (you might call it paranoia), I bought a prepaid phone and used it to make some calls to people who worried about me. I had a bullshit story ready for my absence, something vague about a Marine duty and I couldn't talk about it. As for being wanted by the police? Just a case of mistaken identity.
All my friends were doing okay. Diego had only a slight limp by then, and was in good shape. Miss Loretta was glad I wasn't dead, and then told me to mow my lawn. Hector talked about his kids; Anna was pregnant again. Keeg and Deb invited me to a night at their bar with complimentary food and drinks, within reason. I promised each of them I'd visit soon.
After a trip to my new dojo and gun range outside the city, I grabbed some dinner for Phillip and myself. An hour after sunset I turned on the computer, logged into the hemo-net and checked for anything new in the Planner file. Viggo left a return message that he would talk to Gwen the following evening, and wanted me to join them. As long as he was spilling the beans, I wondered who else was going to show up. I mean, it would've been stupid to think that Gwen, Natalie and I were his only minions.
While I had the private server open, I browsed around again. I figured Viggo's coming out of hiding was leaked by then, but it wasn't mentioned in my limited social files. Going back to the Maps folder, I saw a couple new flags on the sewer level. Attached to the flags was a copy of a Water Department report detailing vandalism in two utility tunnels; one under a downtown hospital, the other below an industrial park in a low-rent area. I blamed the damage on punk kids in serious need of a beating.
Before I logged off, I got a new message alert. Viggo sent an update, stating that at 10 p.m. the next night I was supposed to pick up Gwen at her townhouse. We were then supposed to go to a midtown diner called Ollie's All-Nite Coffee Shop, where another of his minions - a Mr. Benjamin Traeger - would be waiting. I was then to proceed to a cement sewer port next to a gravel parking lot on the western edge of the huge Kansas City rail yards.
Viggo's message explained that the port led to the alcove where we began from to visit one of his Deviant dens. I was told to guide them to that den. Yeah, the sewer route with the rats, false wall, and creepy staircase. Gwen and Mr. Traeger were in for a big fucking surprise.
HOARDER
On the drive to pick up Mr. Traeger, Gwen wouldn't shut up. She started off grilling me about where I got the nice car. Then she talked about how happy she was to move back to her old place from the refurbished fire station. After that was an endless string of questions about Viggo because she thought I knew more about him than she did. She was right, but I wasn't going to rub that in. Coming within sight of the diner, Gwen started asking about Traeger as if I knew about him, too.
Benjamin Traeger - just Traeg, as he liked to be called - was a lanky guy in his early forties with thinning gray-brown hair and a four day beard. He was dressed for the warm night in blue running shoes, urban camo pants, and a blue t-shirt with a big logo on it. That logo was for Traeger's Trading Post, the biggest pawn shop in the Midwest. At least that's what the t-shirt boasted. Traeg seemed like a nice enough sort, although he had a no-nonsense vibe. Being a minion of Viggo for over fourteen years, that vibe made sense. Knowing where I stood with Viggo, I wasn't too jealous of him.
On the way to the sewer port, Gwen and Traeg worked out a possible deal for all of Shawn Riordan's guitars, amps and other shit. I pulled into the deserted lot, spotted the cement casing for the sewer entrance, and popped the trunk. Traeg was silent when I handed him galoshes, rubber gloves, a safety mask and a small flashlight; Gwen looked nervous as hell.
"The ladder rungs are slimy as shit, so be careful," I told them as I lifted the iron grate from over the hole. "There will probably be rats down here. They work for Viggo just like we do, so don't kick 'em or anything. They might run ahead to let him know we're on our way. Smell that?" They both nodded, grimacing. "It's a lot worse down there. The mask will help, but not completely. If you have to throw up, remember to pull it out of the way first. And no matter what, do not breathe in through your mouth. Trust me." My little speech didn't sit too well with Gwen.
While we moved along the walkway next to that disgusting trench, I learned some things about my fellow minions. Gwen may have been as strong as hell, but she had shitty balance; twice she almost sl
ipped into the gurgling brown water. She also had a stronger stomach than I gave her credit for. Traeg haggled for a living, but he clammed up when he was tense. When he did talk down there, though, he swore like a drunken sailor.
When we got to the phantom wall, Traeg didn't want to accept the illusion until I pushed him through. Gwen, on the other hand, wanted to keep stepping back and forth through it. She stayed between me and Traeg going down the spooky stairs, keeping a too-firm grip on my shoulder. At the end of the curving hallway, the submarine door was slightly open. I poked my head through and saw Viggo sitting on a couch watching TV. "Good evening, sir," I said, pushing the door open. "Should I assume there's no worry about Wayne visiting tonight?"
"No, that situation has been remedied. Come in, all of you."
Gwen and Traeg stepped in to the cavernous room, staring all around. Soon enough, Gwen sat across from Viggo while Traeg took his time looking at all of the old knick-knacks lying around. He reached into an upside down medieval helmet sitting on a table. By the sound of his hand rummaging around in it, the helmet had a small pile of stuff in it. Traeg pulled out a big, rough-edged bronze coin and studied it for a few seconds. "Do you realize how much this is worth?" he asked Viggo.
My commander thought for a moment. "I do not believe I've brought one of those to your store before, unless one of its like was mixed in with the pouch of gold and jewelry I regularly bring to you. So, to be honest, I do not. Although, judging from your reaction, Benjamin, I would venture to say a tidy sum."
"A tidy sum . . ." Traeg repeated. He looked at me and said, "Look, I know coins. On a quick sale, I could get four grand for this."
"Holy crap, are you serious?" I asked, and then stepped over to him and the helmet. It was half full of all different kinds of coins. I held up a gold one and asked, "Is this a fucking doubloon? Seriously?"
"Yes, it is," Viggo answered for Traeg. "Fellow medieval numen did not refer to me as the 'Dark Dragon' out of happenstance; I have always had a tendency to hoard. Now come have a seat. I did not invite all of you down here to admire my trinkets."
"Yes sir, sorry," Traeg and I said, putting the coins back.
When we sat down near Viggo, he began with some information. "I have seven other minions." He browsed through a short stack of files on the coffee table in front of him. "There is a sorting director of a local trash company, a Public Works supervisor, a personal property manager, a police dispatcher, a construction company owner, a janitor at Realm Management, and an informant in the IRS." The last one was Natalie. I had no idea about the others.
"Of my many minions, only you three do I trust with most of my secrets. The others are loyal, to be sure, but I do not feel a bond with them as I do with you. Not to dehumanize the others, for they are all fine people, but those minions are essentially tools I must use from time to time. Other than the false name of Mr. Stone - used for my own security - everything I have told each of you is true."
"Thank you for that," Gwen said sincerely. Traeg and I echoed her sentiment.
"I know you all have questions," Viggo continued, handing me the DVD remote. "I have something for you to watch, and perhaps some answers will be given. Leo will address your queries about the video; he was there, after all. I will return shortly." He got up and walked toward the dark corner back by the bed. I didn't watch - I'd seen it before. Gwen and Traeg turned their heads to watch him, saw the corner get even darker, and then Viggo was gone. By their reactions, neither of them had seen that trick before. Traeg shouted "What the living fuck?" while Gwen started mumbling "Oh my God" over and over.
Keeping in mind what they were about to watch, I said, "Calm down. You haven't seen shit yet."
CONNECTING
Both Gwen and Traeg had the same access to the hemo-net that I did, although theyd given it different names. From it, they'd seen posts for Gatherings before. They'd just never been to one and had no idea what went on at them. I started my commentary with Herr Aldo Skala, the hemo who wore the camera. I was immediately questioned about the word 'hemo'. Traeg used the term 'vamp'. Gwen called them either 'numen' or 'the predators'. To each their own.
I had to hit the pause and reverse buttons more than I wanted to; Gwen asked about everyone who passed in front of the lens. They watched the scene of a raging mad Ragna like it was a horror movie, which it basically was. Neither of them knew about Ragna before then. In fact, they didn't know about a lot of hemos, Deviants included. Gwen had heard of Roach and Barnabus, and recognized a few faces from working with video feeds. Traeg knew Skin, but by his long Irish name; they'd haggled a few times through the years.
We watched the part -twice - where Viggo put a few hemos in their place. The few seconds where he gathered shadows and disappeared, though . . . They had me replay that like five or six times. Gwen was both excited and shocked to see Cordell on the screen. I told her that he was one of them now, and admitted that it was pretty much my fault.
Traeg was asking about scions and hemo lineage when Viggo came back. My commander fielded a few questions and then got to his point. "I want each of you to be better informed. Your interaction will remove some of the burden from me. Exchange computer addresses and phone numbers, but do not pass any sensitive information through the latter. A new file and icon will be made for your Deviant drives - a minion chat room, if you will. Stay connected. If there is a need for supplies, contact Benjamin. Gwen can offer assistance with questions of various natures. For any security issues, talk to Leo."
Gwen and I already had each other's info, so we typed our numbers into Traeg's phone while he did the same with ours. "On occasion," Viggo continued, "I will send you a report that the other minions have sent me. Therefore, familiarize yourselves with these people." He turned and spoke directly to Gwen. "You especially. Along with your current duties of analyzing camera feeds, you will compile intelligence from these various sources. As we have discussed earlier, you will be compensated if time constraints do not allow you to keep your vocation."
"Yes sir, it's a generous offer," she replied. "I'd still like to see if I can do all that and keep my job, if you don't mind. I'll only need a week or less to know if I can."
"Of course," Viggo answered. Addressing us all again, he said, "On the topic of compensation, personnel of ShadoWorks - whether full or part-time - shall begin receiving regular pay instead of cash as needed."
I was a full-time employee. I figured because of Gwen and Traeg's jobs, they were part-time. Gwen had an offer to go full-time, but I didn't think Traeg would give up his business to do the same. Viggo most likely wouldn't have wanted him to, either. "You don't have to do that, sir," I said. "I can't speak for everyone, but I bet we'd all agree that how you've been doing things is fine with us." The others agreed.
"This decision is as much for my benefit as it is for yours," Viggo replied. "It will remove the inconvenient chore of passing around cash at various times for whatever mundane needs you may have. I will explain the process . . ."
It boiled down to this: ShadoWorks had access through a Deviant-run company to buy anonymous credit cards with a good limit. Those got issued to full-timers. The same card with a much lower limit would be given to part-timers. If the limit was reached - meaning I wasn't spending my money - then another card would be issued to me. The whole thing was handled by Viggo's property manager, so no aliases had to be used. When I'd buy shit, the only name showing up was that Deviant-run company. It also masked the listing of most purchases. As a topper, Viggo said he'd give out spending cash whenever it was time for a cup o' blood. It sounded like a damn good plan to me.
I was essentially off the tax radar. Hey, fuck it - I'd served my country and taken one for the team. Shit, a lot more than one. Don't go thinking I was one of those anti-government whackos; I was still patriotic, but I thought I'd done my share. No more taxes? No more red tape, paperwork or charges for . . . hell, pretty much everything? Who wouldn't take that deal? I was all in.
Viggo said we shoul
d get back to our homes. He gave Gwen and Traeg the option of either going back the way we came - they hated every slimy step of it - or experiencing his personal mode of travel. Traeg hesitantly accepted the chance to take a void-walk. No, I didn't warn him about it. Gwen was excited to try it, too, but her excitement was mixed with fidgety nervousness. At her request, Traeg went first. After he and Viggo were swallowed by the void, she asked if I'd done it before. I told her I had, and the first time left me speechless. I was intentionally vague. Sometimes I'm evil like that.
Five minutes later, Viggo reappeared and called Gwen to him. Presto, they were gone, and it was closer to ten minutes until he came back. "How'd they do, sir?" I asked, curious as hell.
"Mr. Traeger barely managed to control his convulsing stomach," he replied as he walked over and sat across from me. "Miss Solomon feinted. Once I roused her, she assured me she was fine."
I couldn't help but grin; Gwen was going to catch so much shit from me. "I should get moving as well, sir. I don't trust the Audi sitting by itself in a parking lot, no matter how barren the area is. Oh, uh, about that car . . . It's a damn nice car, sir. In fact, maybe too nice. It's pretty high profile, which really doesn't fit me. And it kinda sticks out in my new neighborhood. I appreciate you lending it to me, but could I maybe start driving my Jeep again?"
He frowned. "Your vehicle is still known to certain parties. One of them still might be foolish enough to ignore my warnings and go after you if they recognized it. The chances of that scenario are quite slim, but I would prefer to take no chances whatsoever."
Disappointing, but he had a point. "I can just trade my car in and get another."
Viggo shook his head. "No, that entails a paper trail, which is what we are trying to avoid. Return the Audi to Elmwood Cemetery. Take your vehicle to Mr. Traeger; he may have vehicles available. If so, and if one of them suits your needs, he will manipulate the paperwork and offer you a fair deal. Otherwise, inform me and we will make other arrangements."
