Cybershot: An Empathic Detective Novel (The Empathic Detective Book 3)

by Jaxon Reed

  “The Vehmic Courts derived their power initially from the Emperor, who could not spare the ruling authority needed in Westphalia from a distance. So, it fell to the locals to take care of things like law and order. The courts were made up of free and honorable subjects and as legal bodies were somewhat unique in being granted the right to capital punishment, something traditionally reserved for the Emperor. ‘Desperate times called for desperate measures,’ you might say. And the Vehmic Courts often did.

  “In fighting anarchy, and with a lack of support from Vienna, members of the court met as freemen and acted accordingly. They meted out judgments and penalties, handling murderers, thieves, and other outlaws in a rational, open manner. But over time, as the years passed, to avoid repercussions from criminals they began hiding their identities.

  “They also spread to nearby states. They transformed into an incredibly large and complex secret society spreading across all the Germanic states, growing so large as to rival the Freemasons, at least in Central Europe.

  “In time, of course, imperial order was restored, and royal courts replaced vigilante ones. But the Vehm Gericht remained active, staying in the shadows. They stepped in whenever justice was overlooked by the official system. They also took care of matters deemed too delicate for the royal courts. Matters such as heresy, witchcraft . . . and issues surrounding the cunning folk.”

  Bryce’s ears perked up. The old man smiled and said, “Ah, yes. Now, we’re getting to the crux of the matter. The cunning folk had powers, each to varying degrees. They were sometimes mistaken for witches, but more often than not they managed to escape detection and live out their lives in peace.

  “On occasion, however, somebody with too much power might grow ambitious, and start causing trouble. And as the centuries progressed, the bloodlines grew stronger throughout Europe. The Vehmic Courts faded from public view entirely, but their efforts at monitoring the cunning folk increased substantially as the bloodlines strengthened.

  “Members took their oaths seriously. Those found breaking their word or revealing the courts’ secrets were dealt with immediately. It’s commonly speculated that one of the reasons we know so little about the Vehm Gericht stems from this heavy enforcement of their own. They immediately killed anyone who tried to break away or share secrets. And truthfully, that’s the only way I can see how things have remained so quiet over the centuries.”

  Bryce said, “So, you’re saying they still exist.”

  “Oh, yes. They were officially disbanded in 1811 by Napoleon’s brother Jerome, when he was King of Westphalia. But in fact, his proclamation merely served as a veneer to cover the Courts’ more shadowy enterprises, which continued to spread.

  “As you can imagine, the troubles in Europe from Napoleon’s time forward were blamed entirely on the cunning folk by those who were aware of such things. After the disruptions of World War II, the Vehmic Courts became much more focused on preventing the rise of destructive forces. They were determined not to let another Hitler rise up.

  “So, the Courts continued their long tradition of near total secrecy. But the trials and enforcement they were known for shifted entirely to suppressing the use of psychic powers for evil purposes.

  “I suspect they monitor all the bloodlines of the cunning folk as closely as possible. When somebody causes trouble . . .” Drossel made a slicing motion across his throat. “. . . they take them out.”

  Drossel chuckled and said, “Of course, I have no way of proving that. But call it an educated guess.”

  He leaned back in his chair and smiled.

  “Okay,” Bryce said. “I’ll bite again. What guesses have you made?”

  “My guess is they were responsible in a large part for both world wars. They made some serious mistakes. Do you know about the mysterious deaths of the Austro-Hungarian Prince Rudolph and his lover?”

  “No. The only Austro-Hungarian murder with which I’m familiar is Archduke Ferdinand’s, that sparked World War I.”

  Drossel smiled and nodded. “Then you know more about history than most, these days. Yes, Ferdinand’s assassination cast a long shadow over the history books. But the one before his, that of Crown Prince Rudolf’s, took place in 1889 and was just as destabilizing in the long term.

  “Rudolf was considerably more liberal, in the classical sense, than other members of his family. We historians like to play the ‘what if’ game and consider how things might have been different at the dawn of the 20th century with a more enlightened emperor ready to sit on Austria’s throne. Since the emperor, Franz Josef, had no male heir after Rudolf died, his nephew Ferdinand was next in line. And as you said, we know what happened to him. So, in a way, Rudolf’s death a decade and a half earlier set events in motion for the first world war.”

  “What happened?”

  “That is still a matter of debate. We know Rudolf was a serial philanderer. He cycled through women quickly, tossing aside lovers whenever he grew bored, which was often.

  “Then he met Mary Vetsera. She was a baroness, although a parvenu. The difference between her and Rudolf’s other women was that she was extraordinarily . . . persuasive. She was not so willing to be cast aside as the others. From my own research, I can say she came from a strong cunning bloodline. All the historical evidence, if you know where to look, points to her beginning to develop the powers of a harpy just before she died.”

  “Interesting. And, how old . . . ?”

  “She was 17, just as her abilities would have been blossoming.”

  “So, she killed him? Or did he kill her? What happened?”

  “Ah, here is where the disputes come in. No one is quite sure what happened. All we know for certain is the servants found both of their bodies in the prince’s hunting lodge outside Mayerling. Half her face was caved in, and the prince was found dead in a pool of blood, apparently by a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the chest. Over the years, the historical consensus has deemed it a murder-suicide.”

  “But you don’t think so.”

  “No. And I’m not alone. They were Catholic, and suicide would have prevented burial in the family plot, so the entire inquest was subject to dissembling from the outset. It’s true the prince discussed suicide with at least one other lover, and some letters surfaced under murky circumstances years later showing Mary was willing to die with him. But even with this evidence, I and others remain unconvinced. An open window into the room could have provided egress for a murderer, and several hours passed before their bodies were discovered.

  “Other discrepancies and odd things were discovered later. The Soviets occupied Austria after World War Two and desecrated Mary’s grave. In the process of reinterring the remains, local workers discovered her skull had no bullet holes in it, as had been previously reported. The Papal See’s findings were reexamined in the late 1950s, and it was discovered the Church’s original investigators indeed found only one bullet wound, and that was in Rudolf’s body. Mary’s skull had evidently been crushed, but nobody could tell if the soldiers had damaged it when prying open the coffin, or if it happened at the time of death.

  “Then a grave robber looted her skeleton again in the 1990s. When her bones were recovered, part of the skull was missing, and modern forensics could no longer discern whether she had suffered an injury to her head or not.

  “To add to the mystery, some of Mary’s personal papers were ‘found’ in an Austrian bank’s vault in 2015. Included were letters written at the lodge that made clear her willingness to die with Rudolf. And so, historians became convinced the murder-suicide theory was indeed the appropriate one. Rudolf, many concluded, killed Mary, possibly by striking her in the head with a blunt object. Then he shot himself in the chest.”

  “That’s interesting,” Bryce said. “Who deposited her papers in the bank?”

  “Unknown. Surprisingly, the bank had no record of who left the documents there. They were placed in a safe deposit box in 1926. Royal seals were on some of her letters. I suspect t
hey were taken from the murder scene and deposited for safekeeping after World War One by someone retiring from government. The empire had split apart by then. Whoever had them knew they were of profound interest, and wanted to keep them safe.”

  “So your theory is . . . ?”

  “My theory is a young harpy was beginning to blossom and exercise her full power. She was exerting alarming control over the heir to one of the leading European empires. The Vehmic Courts saw what was happening and moved to take her out. I suspect the prince’s death was an accident. Perhaps he intervened during her murder and the culprit shot him. Regardless, his death removed someone who could have led reform efforts throughout the empire and perhaps the rest of Europe as well.

  “Instead, Rudolf’s cousin Ferdinand moved up in the line of succession, and forces opposed to him coalesced. Another secret society, the Black Hand, killed him in Bosnia resulting in the domino effect we now call World War One.”

  Bryce said, “Which led to Hitler’s rise afterwards, and World War Two.”

  Drossel nodded. “Precisely. In their efforts to take out a powerful harpy, the Vehmic Courts set the stage for a male harpy, and the worse conflagration Europe has seen to date.”

  “It’s an interesting theory.”

  “And a correct one,” Drossel said with a barking laugh. “I’m old enough that I don’t need to hedge my bets, Detective.”

  Bryce nodded, not wishing to argue. Instead he said, “So . . . the sigil. Am I next on the Vehmic Courts’ hit list?”

  Drossel’s attention returned to the small, flat stone. He took another sip of water while studying it.

  “No, detective. If you were on their list you would already be dead. We have to look at who actually is dead. You say the man who gave you this was murdered?”

  Bryce nodded.

  “No doubt he was a member of the Courts. By giving you this, he was trying to tell you something. And by letting you know about the Courts, he violated his sacred oath and they killed him for it. You are almost certainly not meant to have this.”

  -+-

  Parker stretched out a virtual hand and looked at it with wonder.

  Everything I’m seeing and feeling is taking place entirely in her mind, she thought. And yet it seems so real!

  The hand and arm looked and felt like her own. She flexed her fingers and spread them out.

  She heard a chuckle and looked up to see a tall, incredibly handsome young black man grinning at her. The avatar spoke with Isaiah Finney’s voice, but the facial features and powerful build were completely different from the slim lab technician’s real body.

  He said, “We call first timers here ‘virgins.’”

  Parker raised an eyebrow as a thought crossed her mind. She said, “Can you . . .?”

  He nodded, and his grin grew wider. “Yes. And it’s fantastic. How do you think VIR-1 makes most of their money? Well, that and physical enhancements you have to pay for. Right now you’ve got the standard ‘beginner’s body.’ Once you’ve been here a while you can buy some improvements. Make yourself unique.”

  She glanced down at her avatar’s form. She was shorter in the online environment, at about five-two. A nearby mirror let her see what she looked like. A plain, average female face stared back at her with a non-descript pageboy haircut. And a flat chest.

  “Hm. I can see where people might want to pay for aesthetic improvements. I wish it showed my hair the proper color.”

  “We can stop by a beauty salon later. Right now, I’ve got to meet some mob bosses. You can tag along if you want.”

  She followed Finney out of the airport lobby and they climbed into an autocab together. The car flew off and headed into the city.

  Looking out the window she felt surprised again. She said, “It looks like the real thing!”

  Finney nodded and said, “Yup. In Metro-X the real city is fully replicated. There’s some subtle differences, though. You’ll start to notice if you stick around long enough.”

  The cab sailed into a business district and descended on a rooftop. The doors opened and they crawled out of the car. Finney headed for a canopied entrance, and Parker followed while trying to take in the scenery. In the distance she could see the University of Texas bell tower. She hurried to catch up with Finney.

  “You’re taller here,” she said. “And I’m shorter.”

  “You can modify your height, and anything else with enough money,” he said.

  Near the entrance, two beefy guards in three-piece suits and sunglasses guarded the door.

  One of them said, “Welcome, Mr. Grunge . . . and guest.”

  Parker looked up into her stat bar floating to one side. The space for her name said, “New Player.”

  The other guard opened the door and they walked inside.

  Parker smiled and said, “Mr. Grunge?”

  “My character’s name is Thaddeus Grunge. You can be whoever you want here.”

  “Oh, that’s right, you told me your name earlier. I guess I’m going to have to choose one of my own eventually.”

  Inside, the doors to an elevator slid open and they walked in. When the doors opened again, they stepped out into a reception area. A stunning woman wearing a tight blue gown smiled warmly at them. Parker noticed she had considerable cleavage that seemed to defy gravity, a very thin waist and highly proportioned hips.

  The supermodel said, “Welcome, Mr. Grunge. Would you like your usual table?”

  Finney said, “We just need to visit the office.”

  “I’ll be delighted to take you there.”

  She turned and led the way into a large casino filled with slot machines and gaming tables. The room pulsed with money and pheromones. Parker stared at some obvious prostitutes, openly looking for business. Men and women stood near slot machines, their credit windows hovering nearby as they pulled the handles.

  “Are people gambling with real money?” Parker said.

  “Yup. Sometimes you can get lucky. I made my first big fortune in Metro-X at a casino.”

  “That seems risky, doesn’t it? I mean, the house could cheat, right?”

  “Anyplace that develops an illegitimate reputation won’t last long. I’m part owner of this place, and we make sure the odds are favorable. Keeps ’em coming back.”

  “Wait, you can actually own things like that here? And make money?”

  “Oh, Detective,” Finney said smiling back at her. “You’ve got a lot to learn.”

  Walking deeper into the casino, slot machines gave way to gaming tables. Men in tuxedos and women in ballgowns stood around roulette wheels and card games. Bikini-clad waitresses wearing stiletto heels delivered drinks. The scent of cigarette smoke wafted through the air. Parker looked up at her control window and noticed a setting to eliminate smells. She turned it all the way down.

  She said, “So you can smoke in this game. I take it people can do drugs, too?”

  “Absolutely. Just about anything you can do in real life you can do here as well. And it only harms your online body.”

  Several people nodded at Finney in recognition as they walked deeper into the casino. Parker felt herself getting curious and amused stares.

  “I’ve never felt so underdressed,” she said.

  Finney chuckled and said, “Don’t worry about it, Detective. You’ll probably never meet these people in real life.”

  As they walked past another table surrounded by elegantly clad people, Parker brushed by a woman with a movie star’s face, waist-length hair, and extra-large breasts.

  The woman said, “Newb!” Her companions laughed.

  Parker hurried to move up alongside Finney. She said, “This is not my idea of fun, Isaiah.”

  “We’re almost there. I have an appointment in the office.”

  He pointed to a large oak door in the wall on the other side of the room. The supermodel hostess stopped and waved a hand elegantly toward the door. They walked steadily toward it.

  “I’m supposed to meet wi
th some Russians about—”

  The door burst open and three large, barrel-chested men in striped suits rushed out on the floor. One of them carried an old-fashioned Thompson submachinegun, complete with a cylindrical drum.

  The leader spied Finney. He pointed and shouted, “There he is!”

  The gangster with the Tommy gun brought it up to shoulder level and squeezed the trigger. Finney jumped under a table.

  Brrrrrp! Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp!

  People screamed and dove for cover. Cards and dice went flying. Blood spurted out from everyone unlucky enough to be in front of the bullets.

  The muzzle swung toward Parker. She fell to the floor.

  Brrrrrrrrrrrrrp!

  Bullets slammed into her chest. In real life, she jumped back in her chair as the pain of hot lead streaked through her.

  Her sight faded to red as blood seemed to rush in on her vision. The sounds of gunfire faded rapidly while her neurons pulled out of Metro-X.

  The last thing she saw in-game was her lifeless body lying face-down on the floor as she floated up and away.

  As the red faded to black, words carrying a simple message appeared before her eyes: “You are dead.”

  4

  Bryce greeted Parker when she came into the office the following morning.

  “Ohmigosh, Bryce. Isaiah Finney took me on a tour of Metro-X. We met up with the Russian Mafia in a casino he owns, and they blew me away with a machinegun, along with a bunch of other people.”

  “Hm. Sounds like fun.”

  She glanced at him sharply. She knew, after years of working with him, that he knew exactly how she felt about it.

  “It was not fun. He brought me into this fancy place where everyone was dressed like it was a black-tie affair, and I’m in the basic beginner avatar without appropriate clothes or anything.”

  Bryce smiled and said, “And then the mobsters showed up? What was it like to get shot?”

  “It freaking hurt! I can still feel where the bullets pumped into me.”

  “That’s all psychosomatic right?”