Embracing the Shadows

by Gavin Green

  "To begin with, what is this infliction?" she asked. Viggo answered with a short but honest explanation, which made her even more upset. "Is Leo recovering or something?" was her next question. Viggo said that I was currently learning about my new capabilities. Vague and smooth - I called it 'hemo talk'.

  And then Gwen's questions came out rapid-fire. "No offense, but is Leo all hideous now?" "Is he still, you know . . . Leo?" "We're not in any sort of danger now, right?" "With him becoming a predator, does it mean he's lost his sexual urges? I only ask because he never hit on me, so I thought he might be gay. Does that matter anymore?" "Did Leo ever make a pass at you, Traeg?"

  I'd moved through the shadowy room, closer to the group while Gwen rattled off her questions. Rather personal questions, too, which pointed out that she was oblivious of my presence. I watched my step on the littered floor and got pretty close. Mr. Staalsen glanced in my general direction once, but only for a second; his calm expression never changed and he continued to ignore me. My Gift of Shadows had become stronger. I wished I could've done my new trick back during a few recon missions.

  Viggo knew I was there, so he never lost sight of me. Having pure black eyes had the advantage of shifting his gaze without anyone knowing. I stood behind Gwen; he gave me a barely perceptible nod. I leaned down next to her ear and said, "I'm not gay."

  Staalsen's whole body flinched. Traeg jumped out of his chair, cussing. Gwen screamed and then turned around to yell at me. "Dammit, Leo, don't you ever -" Then she saw me, saw my face. And she screamed again. Not exactly a compliment for my new, fragile self-image.

  INITIATIVES

  While Viggo and Mr. Staalsen moved off to talk privately, I sat down with Gwen and Traeg and answered their questions. I wouldn't wish the infliction on my enemies, but it was all Viggo could do to save my life. I wasn't sure yet if it was a good choice or not. I said that as far as I could tell, I was the same ol' Leo on the inside and they had nothing to fear from me.

  The reassurances seemed to calm Gwen down, which was my goal. In a more relaxed mood, I told them about the events leading up to McKenna kicking my ass and ripping my guts open. I wished I had more details of what Viggo did to that fucker in return.

  Viggo said Traeg and Gwen were excused for the evening. On their way out, I told them we'd all get together again soon at the fire station. After they left, I was formally introduced to Rolf Staalsen. He was a Norwegian minion of Viggo's who met with him at least once a month, whether by Viggo void-walking or Staalsen buying a plane ticket. His current visit was at Viggo's request, and for my benefit.

  Mr. Staalsen worked for ShadoWorks in the capacity of property manager over all of the Scandinavian holdings Viggo owned. Okay, an important guy. Staalsen spoke perfect English, and with hardly any accent. He explained the basic concept for his visit: Viggo was giving a handful of his northern European properties to me. Basically, the minion oversaw the properties while I sat back and got paid. It was by no means a fortune, but it would still be a fairly steady monthly sum I could easily live on.

  "Are you sure about this?" I asked Viggo. "I hate the idea of taking money out of your pocket."

  "Leo, do you have any idea how much property I own around the world?"

  Not having a clue, I looked to Staalsen for help. "Sorry," he said, "I didn't bring my spreadsheets here. In Scandinavia alone, however, I know for a fact that ShadoWorks owns a total of sixty-six developed sites, mostly in commercial and industrial zones."

  "Oh . . . uh, okay, when you put it that way . . ." Damn. With the assumption of free housing, no bills, and my truck being insured as a ShadoWorks vehicle, even a small income was mostly profit. Hell yes.

  The next night, I sat down with Staalsen and Viggo at a nicer location. Viggo's local financial manager, a recluse named Keith who had some sort of social phobia, was on speaker phone. We hashed through all the shit. Well, mostly Staalsen and Keith did; I mostly just sat there and thought up names for the LLC that they were putting together for me. I didn't have to get too creative about it. By the next day, after the application was approved, I was the anonymous owner of Norbeck Limited.

  After the meeting, Viggo and I sat alone and discussed how I'd feed myself. I really wanted to figure that out; I couldn't keep relying on him for my new basic needs. Yeah, I know - Viggo was giving me a place to live and an easy income. I felt a little guilty about it, but I wasn't fucking stupid enough to refuse all of it. Still, I had to gain some of my independence back.

  Okay, so feeding, hunting, stalking, becoming a true predator. One option was to make a minion out of a blood bank worker. However, there weren't many in the right positions, and they were probably already spoken for. I pushed the idea aside and moved on.

  Alright, I should explain something at this point. I knew I couldn't drink Jack Daniels straight - or with coke, either - but I found out I could have a half-shot chaser after draining a rat. For one thing, it made the blood taste even better to me. For another, that sip of Jack made the thought of physically drinking an animal's fluid somehow more bearable. I don't know why. Ask a shrink.

  With that in mind, the next idea was right up my alley: stalking drunks. Like a pervert, I'd be creeping after piss-stained alcoholics, and coeds who made bad choices. Yeah, it was just as classy as it sounded. Thing was, it worked. Well, when I had the chance.

  There's a certain district in my city called Westport. It's an area of themed eateries, craft shops, and a wide selection of bars. That was the logical place to test my stalking skill, but I figured other hemos went there as well and I didn't want to be spotted. Viggo told me not to worry, he'd be watching.

  The next night was a Friday, a perfect time to practice. Westport had a constantly moving pedestrian crowd. That made it easy for me to walk around with my new 'ignored' ability. Viggo called it "blending in". I was scared at first. As I walked by or through crowds of people on the wide sidewalks, I soon noticed that they involuntarily walked around me or got out of my way. No one looked right at me.

  One guy went so far as to veer away from me. When his girlfriend stopped and asked where the hell he was going, he said in a confused tone that he didn't know. 'Blending in' was gonna be damn handy.

  I'd found a narrow, unlit alley and waited there for the right prey to come along. I waited a while. The right prey meant I was looking for one or two people walking past, not part of a group, and stumbling drunk. As Viggo once said, the human mind was adaptable, and would create a logical scenario after being fed from . . . but not a lucid, fully coherent mind. That was a big fucking exception.

  That's where some Gift abilities came in. One trick of the Gift of Control could make a victim forget, or have the memory altered. I didn't have that one. An ability of the Gift of Enchantment could make the victim think it was a pleasurable intimate encounter. I didn't have that, either. The Adepts, some Outsiders, and a very few Deviants knew those two Gifts. I wasn't one of them.

  There was also a higher ability in the Gift of Shadows that made the hemo simply disappear; the victim would mentally give the encounter a different explanation. Nope, I couldn't do that yet. There was also a trick of the Fauna Gift that turned the victim into emotional putty, mellow to the extreme, letting the hemo do as he pleased. I sucked at the Fauna thing.

  That left the option of lying in wait for innocent, hammered people who wandered past me. I hoped they'd pass my attack off as an attempted mugging. I also hoped they didn't puke on me. There could also be a situation where the victim might, uh, bump his head; drunk and stunned would've made it easy. I wasn't too proud of having that idea to begin with, but a guy's gotta eat.

  Viggo had warned me beforehand that the 'dark ardor' would be felt when taking blood from a human. He described the taste as pure ecstasy - especially compared to rats - and that I had to stay in control. Not staying in control meant I'd have a dead body on my hands.

  After three hours of standing around and bored out of my damn mind, I learned that I could bend my ow
n shadow. Viggo later told me that it was the first step into learning the Gift of the Void. It freaked me out at first, but then I started to experiment with it. On the alley wall, I contorted my shadow in all sorts of ways; I stretched it, made it wiggle, and even managed to make it look like I had four arms and a tail. Twisting my silhouette into different shapes got easy after a while, so I pushed further.

  I focused on the old-style streetlamp just down the block and tried to dim it with my shadow. Other shadows from parked cars and door frames extended toward the lamp. Those weren't really shadows, though. There was a soupy, yet smoky, quality to the silent shapes. I got the creepy feeling there was a dark sentience in them. More fascinated than unnerved, I willed those slithering ribbons of darkness to complete their mission. They slid up the cast-iron pole and smothered the light.

  Shocked by the unexpected event, I lost my concentration, which made the void-strips (for lack of a better term) suddenly fade. Knowing I had that ability both thrilled and disturbed me.

  Luck finally came my way just as I was about to go back to my truck. A completely shitfaced guy came my way, using building walls to keep himself upright as he stumbled along. It was easy to pull him into the alley facing away from me and sink my big teeth into the side of his neck. And, holy shit, Viggo was right - that first sip was like having a full-body orgasm while eating a whiskey-marinated bite of steak.

  I had control; fuck dark ardor. I licked the two punctures so they'd close, just like Viggo taught me, and then shoved the guy back out onto the sidewalk. He staggered and fell against a parked car, rubbing his neck. Then, without looking back, he walked off on unsteady feet.

  That was it, I was a hemo. I felt the same way about that fact as I did with creating void-strips.

  DEPRESSED

  Viggo wasn't enthusiastic about my surprising grasp of the Void Gift, although I think he actually smiled. He was also pleased that I had more confidence in sustaining myself. Before void-walking out of the Westport district, he said, "You have done very well, Leo. The rest of the night is yours. What would you like to do?"

  Without having to think about it, I replied, "I wanna go home for a little while."

  "Then I will take you there. Keep in mind that I have arranged an event for the faction to welcome you the night after tomorrow. If the timing pressures you, I will postpone it."

  "Nah, two nights is fine. I just need a chance to chill out on my own for a bit. If I go back out tomorrow, I'll go stalking someplace else where I don't have to worry about anything or anybody interfering."

  Viggo thought about it for a second, and then nodded. He created a void and enveloped us with it. We stepped out into the small, dark office of the thunderdome. As we walked out into the hall, we heard Clara's distant voice say, "I'm upstairs with Thunder." I didn't know how she knew we'd just arrived, and I didn't want to. That little girl was spooky.

  As we went up the stairs, I had a sudden thought. "Oh shit - Phillip. I hope Clara fed him."

  "He is no longer a concern," Viggo said casually. "During your infliction, Mr. Merritt checked on Mr. Aoki. The man's memories were altered to an acceptable degree, and he was then released to return to his home and his life. I do not believe Lady Le Meur will take any further interest in him."

  That was a relief, all of it. Phillip never deserved any of the shit he was put through. For him, at least, it all ended well.

  Thunder greeted me with his odd purrs while he rubbed against my calves. Clara, without looking away from the TV in the lounge as she sat back in an overstuffed chair, told me, "I've been telling him what a good keeper you are, and to look out for you." Then she turned her head away from her Pixar movie and looked at Viggo. "Hello, father," she said. "I did like you asked. It fits okay."

  I turned to Viggo with a curious expression, or at least as curious as my new face would allow. "Your bed sat between windows," he said. "That obviously would not do. So, at my request, Clara moved your bed down into the basement."

  "I had Milo go clean down there first," Clara added.

  "Thank you for that," Viggo said to her, and then turned back to me. "I presumed you did not want a coffin. If you prefer, one can be obtained and placed where your bed formerly sat for sake of ease."

  "No, uh, thanks all the same. You presumed right."

  "Very well," he said. "We will leave for now. I will come to collect you for the faction introduction."

  "Okay, cool." To Clara, I said, "Thanks for looking after Thunder for me." I still wasn't used to hearing the new rumble in my voice; I sounded like I needed to clear my throat.

  "Sure," she replied as she crawled out of the big chair. Passing by me, Clara paused and looked up. "I'm glad you shaved. Your new face would've looked silly with whiskers."

  "Yeah, you're probably right."

  "It isn't as weird as father's is," she went on, still referring to my face, "but it's alright." Her unflinching gaze and candid opinion of my features left me feeling a little less self-conscious. "Don't mope, okay?" Clara added with a smile. "Wait 'til you see Mr. Lucida - you won't feel bad then. Okay, see you at the party." She stepped over to Viggo, who gave me a farewell nod, and they both walked off.

  After they left, I went down to the kitchen and dug a knife into my finger to let a few drops of blood mix with the water in Thunder's bowl. No pet of this hemo was gonna die from old age.

  When the cut closed, I went another flight down to the small utility basement to see what it looked like. Not bad, really. Milo had obviously cleaned everything up, put a new coat of paint on the walls and pipes, and laid a big area rug down. Pinning down one edge of the rug was my bed. Clara had hung a few posters with tape on the walls for decoration. The 'hello kitty' had to go.

  I went back upstairs and . . . And I let my stupid, frail male ego get the best of me.

  I brought two mirrors into the master shower and propped them up. I needed to see the full effect of the Deviant infliction. The old bomb scars on my side, left thigh and butt cheek were turned into rough grooves, just like the ones on my face. My entire body was a dusty beige rock formation, shaped into etched muscles. The veins in my arms had turned into faded brown striations, like marble. And, like a fucking masochist, I studied my junk again. I mean, it was still there, but . . . damn.

  I was depressed for the rest of the night. Not even Thunder's friendly attention helped.

  My first thought when I woke the next evening was that driving anywhere was going to be a pain in the ass. I don't mean physical issues with operating a vehicle; that wasn't a problem. I mean things like people seeing my inhuman face at stoplights, or getting pulled over for whatever reason. That could've caused serious problems. It was then I saw the real value in minions. I was going to need one.

  Using the hatch in my new basement bedroom, I went down into the bowels of my neighborhood. The cramped sewers were thick with cockroaches and other creepy-crawlies; something I'd gotten used to. I came up a few blocks away from a drain port at the back of a string of rundown buildings. I went around front while willing myself to be 'blending in'. Not that there was a crowd to blend in with. I was pretty much by myself out there, except for a drunk passed out on the cracked curb.

  Leaning against a telephone pole, I studied the businesses that shared walls. The crappy tavern in the middle was the only one with lights on. To the right was a crappier two-story apartment building. On the right of the tavern was a repair shop that was in need of a wrecking ball.

  Across the desolate street was a littered, weed-choked parking lot that gave me a view of any patrons who might go stumbling out of the tavern. I watched a few of them come and go - mostly go. They were the lower rungs of society; aging pensioners living off disability checks, or unemployed trash sucking the welfare tit. They didn't shell out for whiskey, or enough of it to make them targets.

  So there I was, a newly-made monster. I sat alone in the dark, on a crumbling low wall at the back of a bleak lot that faintly smelled of piss. Sewer grime was
smeared on my overalls, and there was a roach under my t-shirt. I crushed little chunks of cement in my hand out of sheer boredom while I waited to make some loser's night even worse. And then a drizzle started to fall . . . That was a nice touch. It sounds pretty glamorous, doesn't it? Yeah, fuck you.

  AWARD

  Viggo showed up the next evening in his usual macabre way, and escorted me away in the same fashion. We stepped from one shade of black to another. There was a trace of an echo when I scuffed my boot on the gritty, hard ground. Okay, we were most likely underground, and not in a sewer.

  "As before," Viggo quietly stated to me in the pitch dark, "you may venture forward into lighted areas. My attention is needed for something further back into the darkness, and then I shall be along."

  Well hell, he'd brought me back to the cave that ultimately led to the cavern where I met the charming minion named Brute. Oh, and the prick called Roach, sort of. "Okay, I gotta know," I said, not sure if I was facing him. "What's back there?"

  "If you must know," Viggo replied from a couple yards away, "a species of stygofauna resides in the subterranean lake behind me - a species that has been considered extinct for eons."

  "So, it's a fish, right?"

  "Technically yes, although the mutations brought about by my blood has given the creature unexpected abilities. That, more so than it being a lost species, is of great interest."

  "A fish . . ."

  Viggo was silent for a few seconds before he gruffly said, "Just move along as you did before, Leo."

  "Yeah, that turned out just peachy the first time, didn't it?" He didn't respond to my sarcasm, so I walked away. Maybe I shouldn't have been a jackass about Viggo's extinct fish thing. I was just moody from the night before; I'd gotten a glimpse of my new life, and I was less than enthused. Then again, I just learned that Viggo unintentionally put my life in danger to go visit a fucking fish.