by Scott Duff
The Leather men were busy while I was gone. They’d rummaged through the downed men, sorting and separating, a kind of macabre laundry. I tried to be stoic about the stack of bodies at the edge of the roof, five out of sixteen. The four remaining unconscious men were draped between the shoulders of some of the more normal, biker-looking leather men. Huh, more “normal-looking.” My definitions of things were really skewing.
“Y’all ready to go back downstairs?” I asked the Leather men. They grumbled and nodded assent. I jumped back down to the table with Dillon and found myself seriously close to the shoulders of a rather bulky policeman standing with his hands on the back of the chair I had been sitting in. My awareness of the room flooded back in and I quickly picked a spot on the back wall, then jumped back to the roof. I formed I circular portal between the point I’d picked out along the back wall and here. “Step through and look casual. There are policemen about,” I said, then I turned to the bodies on the ground.
Wilkerson and the magicians I sent to the Atlantic, along with the stack of the dead bodies, circle of life and all that. What else was I gonna do? The two stroke victims I pushed through to the street a few blocks away. I didn’t know where any hospitals were, but they couldn’t stay on the roof and I suddenly had a cop I could dump them on. Once I found out what was going on there, anyway. I grabbed Ferrin and jumped us downstairs, farther back this time.
Again, the Quiver mapped the room for me and showed me the policemen. Two of them stood at the table with Dillon, only one in uniform. Great. Now the cops in two countries were after me.
Chapter 52
“Dillon, who are your new friends,” I asked cautiously as we took the few remaining steps to the table. My baffles were still in place, which made me realize I was going to have to go through my head and see what else I was keeping alive unnecessarily.
“Mike, Mac,” Dillon said by way of greeting, setting me on edge. Intentionally not using my name obviously meant they were looking for me. “These fine officers of the law are looking for a Seth McClure. They won’t tell me why.”
I looked the uniform officer over briefly. “Sir, there are two men two blocks north of here lying on the sidewalk. They appear to need medical attention, but not being from here I didn’t know how to call for help and nine-one-one didn’t work on my cell phone. Could you call for an ambulance?”
He looked confused for a second, looking to the other man, a plainclothes detective of some kind. The man nodded once but continued to stare at me, squinting and contorting his face.
“Maybe you should see to them first,” I said to the uniformed man, pointing vaguely in their direction.
“You should update your cell phone, kid,” the cop said, giving me a dirty look as he left. “That should have worked.” I tripped him as he walked away, too far away to blame me. Get snippy with me and there might be an invisible brick in your path. The last of the Leather Biker men came through the portal so I closed both ends as they passed as discretely as possible into the back rooms, except for the soft-spoken one. He peeled away from the group and headed for us once everyone was safely tucked away.
“Thanks, Dillon. If you can flag down a server, could I get a bottle of water or three, please?” I asked and sat down. Ferrin added on to the order when a cocktail server appeared suddenly as did Leather man, who took up the chair on the other side of Dillon.
“Mercer,” Leather man growled at the cop.
“Trelaine,” the cop muttered back.
“Oh, good, you know each other,” I said, beaming. “You both know Dillon, right? My friend will introduce himself as he deems necessary as I’m sure there are still rights to privacy in this country. Now officer, who are you and why are you looking for me?”
“Are you saying you’re Seth McClure?” he said, reaching into his jacket.
“You first,” I said. I could just picture the anvil from Saturday morning cartoons dropping on his head. But instead I just took my aggravation out by jiggling my leg nervously. He was just doing his job by the book, just making sure. Still, it was a stupid question to ask…
“I am Inspector Gavin Mercer of the London Metropolitan Police,” he said, but not as if by rote. I found that distinction interesting and watched him carefully. “Are you Seth McClure?”
“Yes, Inspector Mercer, I am,” I said. “What I can I do for you?” His aura was all over the place with suspicion taking the lead although curiosity was coming in a close second. Something about us intrigued him.
“Well, the first thing you can do is tell me why you don’t have an aura,” he said. “Then maybe how a seventeen year old got into a bar of this type.” He glared at Dillon on that. Dillon smiled innocently.
“I tend to go where I want when I want,” I said, matching the wattage on Dillon’s smile. “And I have an aura. You just don’t get to see it.”
“Wow, that’s the best veil I’ve ever seen, then,” he said.
“I’m not hiding it, you just don’t get to see it. It’s not that hard to understand, Inspector. Oh, sweet mercy, it arrives.” My bottle of water sat dead in the middle of the tray. I so wanted to be the obnoxious teenager and grab for it but I restrained myself and reached for bills instead. Tossing the money on his tray as he placed my water in front of me, I turned my attention back to Mercer. The server stayed frozen in place, staring at his tray. Dillon broke out laughing.
“Seth, you’re not buying him for the weekend,” he laughed even harder when Trelaine joined in. I guess I tipped too much. Looking back to the waiter, I picked up all the bills then started dropping the one at a time. He said thanks and left before I got through half of what I dropped originally. “But what if I did want to buy him for the weekend?” I asked, just before he left earshot. He turned and winked, but kept going.
“Don’t be a tease, boy,” growled Trelaine. For some reason, ‘boy’ didn’t sound insulting coming out of him. He still got a look that said don’t do that again.
“He knew I was kidding,” I said petulantly.
“You still tipped too much,” said Dillon. “Change some of those bills, Seth.”
“Gentlemen, if we may…?” interrupted Mercer, trying to regain the control he never had. At least he didn’t have it when I was around. Maybe while he was browbeating Dillon alone. “Is there someplace we can speak alone?”
“We can use my office,” offered Dillon. Mercer nodded and stood. When we all stood with him, he started to object and limit us so I wrapped portals around all of us and moved us before he had a chance to say anything. I fell back onto a sofa and propped my feet up on the coffee table.
“Smooth,” murmured Trelaine, sitting in a two-seater to my right while Dillon stood, shell-shocked next to him. Ferrin sat down next to me and the Inspector sat, unfazed by the shift, opposite me in a chair. Trelaine grabbed Dillon’s belt and pulled him down beside him, swigging on his bottled beer at the same time.
“Were you responsible for the light show on the roof?” asked the Inspector, pulling a small notebook out of his suit jacket.
“Only partly,” I responded. “I made it happen on the roof instead of in the bar and I turned one magician’s magefire back on him, but everything else was someone else.” If he was comfortable enough to talk about auras and wasn’t bothered in the least about being jumped through a portal, then he wasn’t gonna be bothered by a few terms. At least that was my hope. “Exactly what branch of the police force deals with magicians anyway?”
“The unofficial branches, mostly,” he answered uncomfortably. “I’m with the ‘Office of Special Services, Adjunct Division,’ officially. Magefire, huh? So there were deaths up there?”
“I didn’t say that,” I answered mechanically.
“Were there?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, there were,” I answered coyly. “But they attacked us with deadly force first and I have a number of witnesses to that effect should that ever come before a court. We were merely protecting ourselves. But I really don’t think it’ll ever co
me to that, will it, Inspector?”
“Considering the angels on your shoulder, kid,” Mercer said, his cold, brown eyes staring at me like I just shot his dog. He used ‘kid’ on purpose, too, trying to get a rise out of me. “I truly doubt it.”
“He’s not lying, Mercer,” Trelaine growled. I think that’s all the man did was mutter and growl. “They were the ones hunting. They attacked first. Self-defense, all the way.”
Mercer stared at him for a moment, then back to me. “How long have you two been acquainted?” he asked, stressing the first syllable of acquainted.
Raising my eyebrows, I looked at Trelaine questioningly. “What, about half an hour? Didn’t know his name until you said it. Seemed to me he was protecting Dillon from the people who were after us. It just seemed right to me that he and his men got to see from what he was protecting Dillon, so I took them along with us.”
Dillon turned to Trelaine, almost gawking at him. “Don’t read too much into it,” Trelaine muttered without turning. “I won’t let some paramilitary goons destroy my bolt holes. When I want to dance, I want to dance in peace.”
“Is this germane to why you need to see me, Inspector?” I asked. “I’d like to go home soon. It’s been a long day.” That ticked him off some, being pulled off the trail he wanted to follow again, but it had been a long day and I was getting tired.
“And just where is home for you, kid?” he asked.
If he wanted to be difficult, so could I. I sent him back downstairs. “He’ll be back in a few minutes,” I said, then finished off my water. Everyone else stood up and stretched, moving around for a moment. Ferrin raided Dillon’s refrigerator for more beers, handing one to Trelaine. Mercer appeared in the elevator five minutes later with his uniform in tow.
“Very funny,” he said, irritated. I didn’t care.
“You called me a kid, Inspector Mercer,” I responded nonchalantly, staring out the window. “My interest lagged. It’s hormonal at my age. Just get to why you’re here.”
“I was sent to deliver a message,” he said, cringing. “I’m not in the habit of running after little snot-nosed rich kids who’ve had a fight with daddy and run away from home. I have more important things to do with my time. Even when those snot-nosed kids are magicians with enough latent power to level this building. Now, go home, make peace with daddy, and get out of my hair.” He spun on his heel and headed back to the elevator the uniform was holding open.
“Wait a moment, Inspector,” I said, standing up. “You have misinterpreted the message somewhere. My father has been missing for close to a year and my mother was comatose this morning. I couldn’t be having a fight with either of them. Start over. Who is the message from?”
“Your mother is comatose and you’re here partying?” he asked, glaring at me.
Oh, no, he did not.
I stormed up, seriously pissed and subconsciously calling for all five weapons. In short, I armored up. Everyone but Ferrin jumped back a few feet at the sight of me. Picking up the coffee table one-handed, I tossed it out of my way as I stomped through Dillon’s living room, over or through everything that was in my way, to the elevator. I grabbed Mercer by his jacket and slammed him against the wall, cracking the mirrored glass and, I think, something in Mercer’s back.
“You are an ass,” I said loudly. “You are officious and arrogant and rude and I am done dealing with it. You’ve made several assumptions about me that are wrong. While I generally don’t care what people think of me, if you insult me one more time, I may not be able to control my temper.” I dropped him to the floor and he fell on his ass in a heap on the floor. “Do I make myself clear to you?” He gulped and nodded emphatically. “Good.” I turned sharply and went back to the table I overturned. Ferrin was righting it as I came up. I helped straighten it and faced Dillon.
“Dillon, I sorry. I have lost my temper twice now. I should have more consideration in your home,” I said with my hands spread out and bowed forward slightly as apologetically as I thought possible.
“That’s okay, Seth. I… understand,” Dillon said slowly. He was behind the two-seat sofa now, leaning back into Trelaine, who had a hand on his shoulder. “You look so different.” They were both in awe of me. That confused me especially since Trelaine had seen me do more than toss a cop against a wall.
“Is that the Night?” asked Trelaine barely above whisper.
Oh. I sorta remember doing that, armoring. “Yes, sir. Sorry ‘bout that,” I said, looking down and detaching the sheathed rapier from my belt as I dissolved the armor and sent the rest back apologetically. “I hadn’t realized I’d done that. Would you care to see it? Just don’t actually touch the blade itself. The stories of its powers are not exaggerated and I can only protect you so far.”
Trelaine accepted the Night from me across the sofa on his open palms and pulled it carefully closer to him. Dillon stepped back but was a little more at ease now that the green and black armor was gone. He was still leery of the ebony and silver scabbard. With cause, I admit.
“Scary little bugger, ain’t he?” I heard Ferrin say to the cops behind me. He passed by them on his way to raid Dillon’s kitchen refrigerator again. He came back a moment later with two more beers, another water for me, and a shot glass with some brown liquor for Dillon.
“Sergeant, you can put your weapon away,” I said, still watching Trelaine carefully. “You’ll find it no longer works.” He had been pointing something vaguely reminiscent of a gun at me since I’d shoved Mercer against the wall. My guess would be a taser, one of those with the shooting electrodes. I sat down on the couch again.
“Dillon, did I come here to party?” I asked, trying more to his attention away from the Sword than actually get the question answered.
“No, not at all,” he answered. And he was smart enough not to elaborate, though I wasn’t sure that our transaction was in anyway illegal. No reason to poke the bear.
“Mr. Trelaine, did you at any time see me ‘partying’?” I asked. Trelaine’s attention never left the Night but he answered.
“No, Mr. McClure, you were definitely not having a good time. That was work the two of you did, plain and simple,” he said, his deep voice rumbling through the room.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” I said calmly. “That should dispel that particular misconception, Inspector. So let’s get back to my question. From who was this message?”
“It came to me directly from Lord Bishop,” Mercer said, sufficiently humbled. Maybe scared out of his mind is a better phrase. “Earlier today, Bishop showed up in our offices and demanded that we all be on the lookout for you. He said that we were to ask that you return to your family, then report any sightings directly to his office.”
“That seems to be quite a few steps away from ‘snot-nosed kid fighting with daddy,’ Inspector,” I said. “Surely, Bishop gave you some cause to feel that way.”
He started to say something, then thought better of it. “Lord Bishop could have ticked off Ghandi.”
“Really?” I asked, looking at Ferrin slyly. “Then I guess I shouldn’t have dropped that school on him like that.”
“That was Bishop?” Ferrin snickered as he disseminated his bounty from the kitchen. Dillon emptied his glass immediately, grabbing the back of the sofa as the liquor went down and shaking his head hard and gasping for breath. It was a very big swallow. He took a swig from Trelaine’s beer before giving it to him.
Trelaine pulled the Sword slowly out of the sheath about six inches, marveling at the intricate etchings on the ebony blade. I paid close attention to him—didn’t want him drawn in below the surface to the magic of the rapier, to where I couldn’t pull him back. I was ready to snap the scabbard back into place in a split second.
“You dropped a school on him?” asked the detective cautiously.
“Figure of speech, Inspector, nothing to worry about,” I said dismissively. “He wanted something I had and when I gave it to him, he couldn’t handle it. Whined about i
t for days.” Ferrin snickered again. “And how did you come here, Inspector?”
“We got a tip from a taxi driver,” Mercer said. “Not too often you see two men with no aura whatsoever. He called me and I had him stick around till I could get there. You left in a private car for here before I could get there. He followed, called us, and here we are. Since I can see your companions, I presume the other gentleman is no longer with us.”
“Mr. Trelaine,” I called turning to him. He was sinking into the aura of the Night. I closed the sheath and called it back to me, sending it home the moment it touched my left hand. Trelaine was dazed and it took him a few seconds to realize I’d taken the rapier from him. He looked embarrassed when he came out of the magically-induced haze. “It is an old and powerful magic. There are few that have touched it and survived. There is no shame in being caught up in its aura.” I turned back to Mercer. “If by ‘no longer with us,’ you mean not physically here, yes. He’s not here right now. Was there anything else to this message?”
“No, not really, just go home, you’re needed,” Mercer said.
“Then what’s wrong with calling me,” I muttered, pulling my cell phone out of my pocket. Checking the display, I was getting signal and no missed calls. I pulled up the contact list and called Peter.
He answered on the second ring. “I shouldn’t even talk to you.” He was mad.
“That’s not an apology. Should I hang up now?” I was mad now, too. Okay, still.
“No. What were those pictures about?” he asked.
“Need to talk about that a little later. Right now, I have the London police in front of me saying that Bishop has put an APB out on me. Do you know why?” I asked.
“Yes, they’ve called a meeting,” he said. “A war council, I suppose, at some super secret site. Happened after I left. Felix and Gordon have gone, so have Kieran and Ethan.”
“Where are the boys?”
“Sitting on my bed while John and Enid try to fix the hole in the wards that you punched when you dropped me off,” he said somewhat sarcastically. I cringed at the idea that I’d endangered them just because I got angry with Peter. That was totally unfair to them and wrong. Just plain wrong.
