by R. E. Vance
“A year now,” she finally answered. “Except to say that I am working for him is a gross exaggeration. If anything, he works for me … sells to me. I am in charge of Army procurement.”
So that was the connection. I scolded myself for not seeing it earlier. Of course General Shouf would be in charge of commissioning anti-Other weapons. As an Other herself, she had a unique insight into what made them tick. And what’s more, she couldn’t lie to protect her kind.
“And let me guess … the anomaly program. That was one of your more recent ‘procurements’?”
“Yes,” she shattered.
“And that program—what? Went missing? Was stolen? Lead scientist was kidnapped?”
“Decommissioned. After you left the unit. And then the team simply disbanded. No stolen data or lost scientists.”
“After I left the unit?”
“This is old news, Jean-Luc. We haven’t experimented with anomalies since you killed them all. You are the reason the project failed.”
“But someone is obviously trying to replicate the program. Someone got the specs and is experimenting again.”
Shouf let out a deep breath like pennies pouring into a glass jar. “Yes, but we do not know how. Our inquiries tell us that the files have not been accessed since you were on the program.”
“And so when you called the Paradise Lot PD last night, you did so as a Memnock Securities employee?”
“I merely informed their headquarters of the breach and that they should get an armed response there ASAP. Perfect camouflage, as those facilities used to be under my command. It was only natural that I would be alerted and concerned.”
“I see. OK, but what is the connection to the missing kids?”
“Kids?” she chimed, and I was surprised to hear confusion in her tone.
“Yes, kids … as in ‘human children who are missing.’ ”
“I know of no connection,” she shattered. She paused. “Nor do I know of how there could be a connection. Anomalies are created and driven by a combination of magic and technology. Children are worthless little beings which have less than a nineteen-percent chance of growing into something useful.”
“Someone,” I corrected. “Someone useful. OK, one last question: does Mr. Cain know that you are blackmailing me into your service?”
“No.”
That answer took me back. I was sure they were connected. “Don’t lie.”
“You know I cannot.”
“Does he know we have been in contact?” I asked.
“Not from me.”
“That doesn’t answer my question … does he know we’ve been in contact?”
“I do not know. He is a man of considerable means and he may very well have found out. After all, I doubt the sudden appearance of the anomalies has escaped his attention. If he does know, it is because you are either under his surveillance or by other means altogether.”
“Got it,” I said.
“Jean-Luc … the anomalies. Tell me if—”
I hung up the phone and continued down the road to my home.
↔
So this was it. Shouf was blackmailing me, Michael was forcing me to be an active member of Paradise Lot PD and Mr. Cain wanted to hire me. Two of the three players were unaware of each other, and one—a certain Mr. Cain—was aware of everyone.
He knew I had been behind the glass during his interrogation—that was why he looked at it when adjusting his cufflinks. He was aware that I had taken note of them at the Other Place; by making such a show of them in the mirror, he was doing so not for his own vanity, but as a message to me. “I know you’re there,” it said. And from how he reacted, he approved. He may be a shrewd businessman, capable of questionable practices, but I believed him when he said he wanted to make things better. Somehow, my presence behind the glass was part of that plan.
And as for Shouf … it couldn’t have been a coincidence that Mr. Cain approached me only weeks after Shouf put me on her radar. Shouf was right—Cain knew about the anomalies, he knew I’d worked on the program once-upon-a-time and he knew I was well equipped to deal with it now.
Hire me outright to help with both situations, or trust that the natural politics of Paradise Lot would force me into the center of it. Either way, he had his head of Human Security on the case. This case was starting to feel like the longest and most painful job interview in history.
As I headed to the hotel, I went through my mental checklist, comforted by the thought that my day—hell, my week—simply could not get worse. There were a few things I needed to do before our trip to the mainland. A few Others I needed to speak to.
You know what they say: “The road to hell is paved with optimism.”
Well, maybe they don’t. But I do.
As that thought finished rattling around in my brain, a powerful clawed hand grabbed me by the shoulder and dragged me into an alleyway.
“Hellelu—!”
But that was all I could get out before I was promptly and unceremoniously thrown against the wall.
Chapter 8
Jackal-Guards and Eyes and Ghosts and Succubae and Harlequin Romance Cover Models
I hit the bricks with a thud, wincing in pain. When my eyes opened, they focused on a dog’s head. Not a dog … a jackal. This was one of Anubis’s guards. Half-jackal, half-human, these guys were rare—only seven were known to have survived the GrandExodus—and they were powerful. This one wore a trench coat, but under it I could see the traditional ancient Egyptian garb—white skirt, vest and large pendant in the shape of an eye around his neck.
“Human,” he sniffed. “You are human. But you have their stink on you. All over.” He drew in a deep breath and his eyes went red with rage. “Where is he? Where is the boy!?” he howled.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I groaned, still winded.
But the way he snarled, menacing canine teeth bared, I realized he wasn’t into listening to reason. I swung my arm down hard on the joint of his elbow. The blow forced his arms to lower and as soon as my feet were on the ground again, I kicked. Hard. And right in the—to coin a British expression—bullocks.
The creature, whose lower half thankfully had the same anatomy as man, yelped in pain and let me go. I started to pivot away, not wanting to be sandwiched between him and the wall, when he grabbed me and, with more strength than I imagined possible in such a skinny body, threw me thirty feet farther into the alley and against a chicken wire fence with barbed wire at the top. This one took a bit longer to recover from, but by the time I’d dragged myself off the ground I’d confirmed my fears: no easy way to continue.
So I turned to fight.
The jackal-guard crossed his arms so that his right hand rested on his left shoulder, his left hand on his right shoulder. Then he approached me slowly, his teeth bared. “I am Aau. Before the gods left, I was guard of the Fifth Hour. Now I am guard of the boy across the way: Elliot. I watch over him, protect him. This is my vow. You and yours stole the boy last night. I will return him to his home, where he can continue his games of picking up things and putting them down, where he proudly soils his pants and waits for his mother to change him. Where he can smile at me from across the way.”
He pointed up at a window on the third floor, where a child’s drawing was taped. I could just see from here that it was a rudimentary picture of the jackal-guard himself. I looked at the window directly opposite and saw an incense burner with Egyptian carvings hanging in the window frame. So that was what was going on. This jackal-guard—Aau—lived across the alley from Elliot, another kidnapped kid. Being a creature whose instincts were to defend, he saw the boy as his to protect.
And I had the stink of the kidnapper all over me.
“Listen to me,” I said, holding up my hands. “I have nothing to do with his disappearance. I am investigating a kidnapping myself. A girl named Sarah. She was taken two days ago—”
Aau took a deep breath. “LIAR!” he howled. Before I could
say anything else, he removed his scythe from his belt and charged.
Hellelujah!
↔
I tried to duck under Aau’s scythe and get behind him, but the damn jackal-guard anticipated that I’d do exactly that. Guy was good at his job, I’ll give him that. Using his other hand, he grabbed my neck and threw me against the wire fence. Again.
The fence jingled as my back slammed against it—a far too subtle sound, given how much it hurt. I winced, but got up to face the jackal-guard as quickly as I could. I guessed he’d try to stab me or, worse, decapitate me with his scythe. I was getting ready to tumble out of the way, when the creature of Anubis did something I didn’t expect: he pulled off the amulet that he was wearing and tossed it at me.
Figuring it to be a harmless necklace, I caught it midair—and that was when the world around me started to fade …
… and was replaced by another world altogether.
No, “world” was not the right word for it.
Time. That’s what changed. Whatever he did to me caused the present to dissolve and the past to burst through the floodgates.
First I was transported to my childhood, when my PopPop took care of me. I was in the kitchen—I had gotten into a fight at school and PopPop was scolding me. I got angry and told him to go away. I screamed that he was not my father, just a sad old man who couldn’t even save his own daughter—my mother—from dying. And as I screamed at him, I did not feel my own rage, but rather his pain at my words. Sure, they were just careless words uttered by an angry kid, but they hurt him deeply. As I continued to yell them, I wished to all the GoneGods I could stop my younger self from being such a hurtful brat. But I couldn’t stop myself. Instead, I was forced to endure my PopPop’s pain.
Time shifted and I began to feel all the pain I caused Bella when we were dating. Again, little stupid stuff done by an insensitive boyfriend and, later, an insensitive husband. I also felt Judith and her anxiety over our relationship. I felt how she wanted nothing but the best for Bella and how, in her (correct) estimation, I was far from the best.
But all that was the pain I caused others when the gods were still around.
After they left was another story altogether.
As time progressed yet again, I realized that my little episodes with PopPop, Bella and Judith were only the warm-up to what was to come.
What came next can only be described as a thousand deaths, all experienced by the Others I hunted and killed in the first years they arrived. My first kill was that of a golem whom my unit had cornered in an abandoned building near where we had been deployed. We trapped it on the third floor and since I was the newbie, it was my job to go inside and end the poor creature’s life.
As I walked into the room, it hunkered in a corner. I felt its heart race. I knew its confusion and endured its fury at being cornered.
Inside, and face-to-face with it, I could sense its fear turn into resolve and then malice. If it was going to die this day, then maybe it could take one of the cruel humans with it. I felt it embolden. As it charged at me, I pulled my rifle’s trigger and it went down. I felt that, too.
As it bled out, I felt its regret; I felt it wish that it had tried to talk to a human. And as the last of its life went out of it, I felt its sadness as it uttered a curse at the gods for being so callous as to abandon their creations.
That was the first kill I made. There were still more to come—hundreds—and with each pull of my trigger or swing of my sword, I first felt their fear, their anger, their confusion and, finally, their pain.
A thousand deaths all experienced in rapid succession. Even though my body was unharmed, feeling all that pain, all that fear … I could do nothing but fall to my knees and pray that either this ended, or I did. Either way, I would have done anything for this to be over.
↔
I did not end. Instead the images and pain slowly subsided and, when the montage of my own personal hell finally finished, I looked up at him through tear-soaked eyes. “What …? What did you do to me?”
“The Eye of Fire. It forces you to relive the suffering you caused your victims exactly as they experienced it. Human, you have caused many much pain; however, you did not take the boy who lives across the alleyway.
“But you smell like the creatures who took him. Creatures unlike any I have seen or smelled before. I fought them off, but there were too many. I killed two and upon their deaths, they dissolved into a puddle right where you now kneel. On the third, I used the Eye, but the Eye did not work on it. So I killed it, and it too dissolved. It felt no remorse. No pain. No guilt. Either it was an innocent, or it was not …”
“Not what?”
“Not anything.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, wobbling to my feet.
“Not anything,” the jackal-guard repeated. “Not alive, not dead. Nothing.”
“I’ve heard,” I said, rubbing my temple. My head was woozy from whatever he did to me, and I think it was affecting my ability to understand. But I did understand one thing: this Other, he knew something about the kidnapped kids. In fact, he just confirmed that these cultists didn’t just kidnap Sarah, but there were other children that we didn’t know about. I would deal with whatever this jackal-guard and strange Eye-thing did to me later. For now, I needed to focus on what he knew.
“Only that which has no soul can resist the Eye. A husk, a hollow creature. Whatever these beings are, they are—”
“Anomalies.”
He looked down at me curiously, his head tilting to one side like a dog. It was almost cute. Almost.
“Never mind,” I said, finally finding my feet and standing. “Hollow creatures. I’m with you now. Question is … how do we find them and kill ’em?”
↔
Aau and I exchanged numbers—an odd thing to do with someone who just bared your soul with the use of jewelry—and agreed to keep each other current on our investigations. The way I saw it, I could use a creature like Aau in getting into any hold-up that these hollow beings had.
With that done, I had direction to my investigation. It wasn’t one little child who was gone. It was children—and that -ren made things much, much worse for whoever was behind this.
↔
Back at the hotel, I nursed my eye with some ice I got from the hotel’s oversized, understocked kitchen. I went up to EightBall’s room and knocked.
“Come in,” EightBall said. I walked in to see that EightBall had traded his usual PlayStation controller for a book, which he was reading with Sinbad as Judith hovered about drinking from a Batman mug.
I looked at her and then the cup and then back at her, and smiled. “Holy hot-piping-tea, Batman,” I exclaimed.
“Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It was all the boy had. Besides, I like the Batman.”
“No, you don’t,” Sinbad said, pointing an accusing finger at Judith. “First of all, it’s ‘Batman,’ not ‘the Batman,’ right EightBall?”
EightBall nodded. “Right.”
“And also, you said that if Jean-Luc wasn’t such a kid himself, maybe EightBall here would have a proper role model to look up to. Didn’t she, EightBall?”
EightBall dutifully nodded to this, too.
“Tattletale,” Judith said, and she stuck out a playful tongue.
Sinbad giggled and gave me a big smile. “Hi, Mr. Jean-Luc. Welcome home!” With that done, she went back to her book.
“Hey, Sinbad,” I said. “I hear you’re on an important mission.”
“You betcha!” she said. “I’m looking for Sarah, but I can’t feel her right now. She’s gone. So I’m waiting until I feel her again and then I’ll be off to find her.”
“OK,” I said. “That sounds like a good plan.” I figured as much. The Occultists knew we were looking for them; they would be doing whatever they could to hide themselves and the children. That included standard forensics as well as magical tricks. Line a wall with the right combination of metals, herbs and miner
als, and there wasn’t enough time on Earth that could be burnt to find them. Whatever they lined their walls with also prevented Sinbad from being able to sense Sarah.
But, much like a TBM counter, you could work around it. My watch spun faster if it was simply near magic—even hours later. I figured that Sinbad’s connection to Sarah worked the same way. Get her close enough to wherever Sarah was, or maybe just near one of the Occultists, and she’d be able to pick up the trail.
“Hey, Sinbad,” I said, crouching near her. “How about you and I go look for Sarah? Maybe if we get close enough to her, you’ll be able to feel her again.”
Sinbad considered this and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.” Without hesitation, she leapt off the chair and into my arms.
“Whoa, little one,” I said, putting her down. “We’ll go soon, I promise. But first, we’ve got to get ready.”
“But I’m ready now.”
I eyed her.
“O-kayyy,” she said in an exaggerated tone. “I’ll go … just in case.” Sinbad leapt up from her seat and ran to the bathroom.
As soon as Sinbad closed the door, Judith floated over to me. “Where are you taking her?” She used her typical judgmental tone that I had hoped she had left behind in Australia. Apparently not.
“You know why she is here?” I asked.
Judith nodded. “Penemue told me his theory, but—”
“It’s not just Sarah. There are at least three more kids that we know of … and I suspect that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
“But—”
“That’s at least five kids who are scared and alone, probably more, and Sinbad over there may be our only connection to finding them.”
