Vera gave them everything she could. Yes, she had been there. No, she didn't know why they were attacked. Yes, she had run.
"Where is your sister?" they asked and Vera startled.
The image of her sibling being crushed slammed into her mind and she couldn't speak. But for the police, she had nothing. They couldn’t find her body, and Vera couldn't find the strength to tell them not to bother. It must have been Badir, who had taken his sister. Even now, Vera could feel his mind tickling hers—the creator checking in on its creation. That thought angered her, but that anger was soon overcome with resignation.
The police wondered where she had been, and she told them lies. She didn't even consider for a moment about mentioning her real situation. They wouldn't believe her, and if she proved it, they would probably lock her up. The government was always doing things like that. Besides, the Seattle Police didn't have the best reputation. In the last few years, they had shot and killed an innocent man and put another innocent man into a permanent vegetative state. It had been so newsworthy that even Vera had heard about it, and she avoided the news.
Could she provide a description of the assailant? Yes she could, and Vera set about doing something that she actually did want to do. She described Badir so well that the police were congratulating her in the end. She even corrected minor flaws in the computer generated mockup by adding fine detail.
Her mind envisioned Badir easily as she thought about him. She had never been able to recall her memories with this much detail, but the events of that night were seared into her mind, and her co-creator—if he could be called that—came easily to mind as she thought about him. He was in the core of Seattle, walking the streets.
She had cried when the police returned her home. She was alone; there was no one, and for the past few days she had slept in Anna's bed, smelling her sheets and cuddling with her stuffed animals. One of those animals was now firmly in her grip as she watched the events outside.
The police lights were flashing, adding a stark contrast to the darkness that was descending with the setting sun. Her eyes could see three figures; two were approaching the third and calling out to him. Her hair moved slightly as her ears deformed. It was a new trick, and one she found that she liked. Sounds increased in volume, and she could hear the conversation easily.
"Sir, I asked you to stop," said one of the officers.
"I'm stopped," James said as he motioned to the officers to demonstrate that he was standing still. The officers didn't appreciate the visual demonstration; hands went to guns.
"Sir, don’t move," the officer commanded.
"All right," James cried. "I'm not moving."
The second officer came up to James and then went to his back side. He began to pat him down while the first officer continued to talk.
"What are you doing here tonight?"
"I came to check on Vera. I'm a friend," James told the men.
The second officer pulled out a wallet and checked his ID. James pointed at the house. "I just want to knock on the door and see how she is. Is that okay?"
"Just remain right there, sir," the officer commanded gruffly. He wasn’t amused. Neither was his partner, who looked at the ID and then reached to the mic at his shoulder.
"Dispatch, can I get an ID check?"
The radio squawked and a conversation began with the intention to verify the ID of James. After a few minutes, the second officer returned the wallet but maintained his superior attitude.
"You check out, but I would like to know more about you. What are you doing here, and why are you looking in to Miss Monroe?"
Vera listened as James verbally fought with the police. The cops were jerks, but she enjoyed the anguish they gave to James. After a few minutes, one of the officers approached the front door and rang the bell.
She sighed, unsure what to do. She was calmer than before, but she still hated him. It was odd to her that she also wanted to see him; part of her was actually happy that he was here. Deciding to at least answer the door, she retracted her ears and went to the entryway.
After opening the front door, she briefly spoke to the officer. He explained what she already knew; that James Connor was here to see her. She looked around the officer and spied James watching her. He seemed to plead with his eyes. Her anger swelled suddenly, and she had to look away.
"Tell him to leave," she said and closed the door.
She went back to the window and extended her ears again. The officers told James her response and he shook his head. He was giving up and that angered Vera. She left the room she was in and headed up the stairs to Anna's room in the back of the house. The window opened easily and Vera climbed onto the roof; she found her new features were beneficial to this task, and she was even able to maintain possession of Anna's stuffed toy.
When Vera reached the crest of the roof, she looked down to the street below. The officers were making sure that James got to his car. Vera raised a brow—she didn't know he even owned a car. He seemed to go peacefully and put up no fight, no resistance.
"Coward," she said.
James suddenly turned and looked directly at her. She gasped and dropped the stuffed animal. It hit the roof and rolled to the edge, tumbling to the front of the house. Vera watched it go and was both saddened and angered by its loss. He had caused this.
She looked at him and saw that he was casting his eyes around. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was there. It was when she felt his mind reach for her that her eyes turned to slits. She punched back at him with her thoughts and saw him wince. She yelled at him with her mind, turned her body around, and leapt.
James could sense the movement in his being and even heard Vera land in the trees near the street. This part of Madison Park was covered with large and contoured specimens. Their interlocking branches reached across the street to counterparts on the other side, and when in bloom, as they were now, sunlight had a difficult time piercing their veil. Now that it was getting late, the street was in almost total darkness.
A soft growl and rustle of leaves caught his attention and James turned to see a large dog staring at him. James had been so engrossed with Vera and the cops that he had missed the hell hounds presence. He was just about to ask to be ignored but stopped quickly. Thinking on the matter, he decided to let the animal be. If it became confused, it might leave its position of protection. The dog sensed this somehow, nodded its head, and then took one look at the cops and growled.
"Easy, boy," James whispered. "They're just doing their jobs."
The hell hound obeyed, casting a quick glance to James before heading back to the shrubbery. The officers, still unamused and acting like jerks, demanded that he get into his car and leave. He did so and went back to following Vera with his mind. She was leaping through the trees as fast as she could and was already near the end of the long street. She leaped to a rooftop and made her way to the next street over. It quickly became more difficult to follow her, and soon she was lost to him.
James was left with nothing else to do but give the stupid cops their satisfaction. He started his car, put it in gear, and headed home.
Chapter 20
Events began to quicken the next day, and James began to feel like he was drowning. The first bad news—as if he needed more—came from Jonah. James had opened the door to see Jonah, visibly angry and not even offering a pleasant greeting.
"Dude, what the hell did you give me the other day?" Jonah asked curtly.
"Give you?" James asked in return.
He wasn’t sure what Jonah meant. The phrasing of the question implied that James had spread the flu or some other virulent infection.
"That venom you gave the technician. He ran an analysis on it, and then I got a ticked off phone call from some man at a classified research facility in Italy. Apparently, it’s a restricted neurotoxin. They wanted to know where we got it, how we got such a high quantity, and what we were doing with it."
James was at a loss for how to explai
n the interest in the venom, and as he thought about it, he spied a shade lingering in the hallway just beyond Jonah. It had an ominous presence to it.
"Get in here," James commanded quickly. He wanted his friend out of danger. "I swear to you, Jonah, it’s just venom," James said as he closed the door behind his friend.
"Whatever, man," Jonah said while rolling his eyes, not believing James. "Look, I can't cover for you on this one. I don't know what this company is, but they have connections up the ass. This event triggered an audit, and with our grants being dependant on the government, I have to comply. I can guarantee you that this is gonna come out, and I'll have to give them your name. I would love to cover for you, but I just can't."
Now it was James' turn to be doubtful. He didn't believe for a second that Jonah would ever want to cover for him, but it was a moot point. If Jonah was telling the truth about an audit, then a lot of information would be revealed, including his participation in the gene therapy trial.
The two men sat in the living room and discussed the problem. James made it clear that his friend wasn’t to protect him—it was a pointless offer of generosity, since that was what Jonah was going to do anyway. He told Jonah to save his career if he could, and send all the inquiries to him.
"I'll tell them the truth," he said to Jonah. "That I needed a toxin examined, and I gave it to you without much detail. Just plead ignorance."
"I can do that," Jonah replied.
James knew he could. It wasn’t a hard act for Jonah to perform.
"Where did you get that stuff, anyway?"
"It's vampire venom," James replied easily.
"Fine, whatever, be that way if you want to. Just keep me out of it," he said and then began to leave in a huff.
Worried for his safety, James followed Jonah down to the lobby, playing the consoling friend while in actuality being his protector. The shade kept its distance, but James could sense its hunger and its animosity towards him. It was almost as if it knew James had helped kill one of its own. James dispatched quick thoughts to ignore him, but they went unanswered. When he sent a forceful image of what happened to the last shade he had encountered, the beast wavered and then quickly dissipated.
The police were the next to arrive, and they made a grand show of questioning him. The high profile case of Mr. Monroe meant no one was safe, and the police didn't care whether or not James was innocent. The fact that he had only just met the Monroes made him appear guiltier in their eyes.
This in turn led to a request for his clients to open files and answer questions about his whereabouts. Records were soon found referencing Vera and the anti-venom, and his contacts at the hospital were even questioned. Thankfully, the hospital didn't release the records. Without a court order, client patient confidentiality was in effect, but the hospital administration began to question James regarding the situation. He even had to appear in person to defend himself.
He found his situation difficult to explain, and James deferred from answering any questions, citing his own client confidentiality. Luckily, he had enough friends and colleagues who he had helped over the years, and they gave him the benefit of the doubt while making it clear that a court order would trump anything; they would be forced to comply.
Upon returning to his apartment building, he was tired and made the mistake of openly approaching the building as he walked down the sidewalk. Camulas was at his side quickly.
"Hide yourself, you fool," he growled.
James looked up and could sense the danger he was in. The beings around the area stared at him, and for the first time he knew they felt justified in their vigilance.
Curious, James examined the entities around him. These demons weren’t visible to most people, but he could see them easily enough. They were on the streets, the buildings, and the plant life that graced the area. Small sprites stared at him from lamp posts, while leafy plant tendrils extended from city planter boxes and sniffed the air, searching for him. As he watched, one of the small pixies became a little too absorbed with him, and a nearby sith pounced on it. James gasped as the catlike creature tore the peaceful pixie to shreds. When it was done, the feline opened its jaws wide, unhinging its mouth like a snake and displayed the bloodied teeth for all to see.
James was stunned, but kept his composure long enough to send out a request to be ignored. At first it was weak and didn't appear to have much effect, but after turning his eyes to slits and angering, he cast out his command once again. This time he could see the confusion as the various beings began to scan the area, searching for something they had lost.
Now that he was provided with some privacy, James took the opportunity to closely examine the beasts that still remained in the open. Looking at the stone work of the building across the way, he could see the surface move and ripple as an almost invisible being retreated farther up the facade. The beast was living rock and older than even Camulas. As James concentrated on it, he realized that it was much older—perhaps thousands of years older. He also realized that his projections had little if any affect on it.
As they walked down the street, James sent out a general feeling of his intentions. He could feel the more savage and ancient beasts sensing for his mind, searching for his presence. They were like children or pets: conscious in their own right, but very simple in intellect.
Ignoring Camulas, James moved away from his building and approached the stone wall, which rippled as he neared. He was fascinated with this particular demon, and as he approached he found himself oddly attracted to it. Next to him, following curiously, Camulas searched but sensed nothing and saw just as much.
"What is it you are playing at?" the man asked James.
"You don't see that?" he asked Camulas incredulously.
"I see a wall. It’s very well done and appears to be a red or pink marble. Perhaps from Italy. It must have cost the owners a considerable amount of money to decorate the building like this."
James agreed, nodding his head as they looked around the base of the building. The entire first floor was of this magnificent stone, which was offset by stainless steel lettering and other accents.
James watched as the stoned continue to ripple in front of him. He sent out his mind and felt for the beast but couldn’t gather much information. It was old, as he originally suspected, and it had emotions. However, these emotions were so foreign that he found them confusing and difficult to comprehend, not like the other Celtic beasts. At least in them, he found some semblance of human connection. In them, he could feel hunger, anger, curiosity. Even the simple creatures gave him a sense of basic mindless emotion, much as one would feel after a long Saturday of mind numbing television. This creature, however, was very different, and James had no words to describe it. What he was beginning to have with regard to the ancient beast was an odd understanding: a sharing of mutual respect.
Unafraid, he placed his hand on the stone, and his mind raced with visions he couldn’t comprehend. Gas erupted from fissures and life crippling smells assaulted his mind, interpreted by the oldest evolved parts of his brain. Molten rock gurgled and raged through underground tunnels, and all the while James felt as if he were a child, thrilled for their first ride on Space Mountain.
Chemical compositions filled his mind, mineral analysis, crystalline forms, and then basic life. James' eyes widened suddenly and he cried out in mild shock. He could feel that life and an intelligence unfamiliar to him. This creature was older than any other being nearby, and was therefore comprised of much more experience. As James continued to probe and learn, the rock before him did the same. Having spent centuries alone, it reached out to his mind, and James quickly became overloaded.
As if in a dream, he watched himself from a distance, hand to rock and crying in pain. A wave of pure emotion swept from him; much as it had the night he called for Arinai. From his disparate vantage point, he could see a ripple radiate from him and the wall, spreading across the city like water from a pond. Unconsciousness then gripped h
is mind.
When James woke, he found himself being lifted to his feet by Camulas.
"What the hell was that?" asked the god of war.
James caught his breath.
"I don't know."
"Well, you may want to do something about it, whatever the hell it was. Every demon in the area felt it, and we’re now exposed."
James looked about and saw what Camulas meant. His new followers were all watching him carefully, moving about warily while still oddly curious about him. Luckily, they kept their distance, but James was quick to ask for ignorance on their part. Most complied; those that didn't were too powerful, or too intelligent to be fooled.
"Some of them will not look away anymore," said James as his breath calmed.
"I shouldn't worry about them. I believe they will leave you alone."
"Why is that?"
"Hell, Oracle," Camulas said with surprise. "I'm the god of war, and after what I just felt coming from you, I need to change my underwear."
James looked at his friend and could see the sure wonderment in his expression. He then had to wonder what had just happened. What could cause such a reaction from the demons, and especially Camulas? He wasn’t sure about the answer, or even whether or not Camulas had made a joke. Hell, he wasn’t sure Camulas could make a joke.
Taking another look at the stone wall was of course a necessity. The rippling continued, and he could make out small visages of those underground lava tubes and gaseous eruptions; it was a silent movie played for his benefit on the surface of the marble. James also knew that this being hadn’t meant to hurt him; it had meant to hold his mind like a friend would hold your hand. James had simply been too weak to endure the request.
Camulas got James' attention and nodded silently in another direction. James followed his gaze and could see her watching them. She was as lovely as she had been at the cafe, and this time had chosen an almost angelic figure to assume. She was on a raised dais used to display art for one of the nearby buildings, but that art paled in comparison to her. The image was almost peaceful as she sat on her knees, much as a person would sit in a meadow to pick flowers. Today, the raven had taken the form of an Angel, wings and all. Only this Angel's wings and clothing were black in color, and when she smiled at him, it was a lover's smile—wicked and knowing.
Celtics Rising: Birth of an Oracle Page 18
