Nascent Shadow (Temporal Armistice Book 1)

by Matthew S. Cox

  “I should make something calming.” Natalie grins at me. “Give it to them like as a ‘welcome to the building’ present. Once it’s in their space, it’ll keep their moods level.”

  “Hah.” I laugh. “I don’t think your magic’s strong enough for that douche. Your charm token would overheat.”

  She raspberries me. “I’m gonna enchant some damn silence over them if they don’t knock it off.”

  Two can play that game. Sorta. I turn up the volume. The apartment on my right side is still―as far as I know―empty. “Tracy and Frank are going to join us for the movie… only without being able to see it.”

  “Ooh.” She narrows her eyes at me, grinning. “You’re evil.”

  “Nah. I’m merely misunderstood.” I wink.

  hursday of the following week, my stationhouse responded to a blaze at a medium-sized restaurant. By the time we got there, the building had already advanced to the ‘lost-cause’ state. Fire roared inside like a bunch of elementals having a bachelor party at a place with an open bar. Flames and smoke belched out of the windows, and half the roof had already collapsed. If there’d been anyone inside, they’d already have been quite well done.

  Word came back that they hadn’t opened for the day yet, meaning the only people who could’ve been inside would be burglars or arsonists. So, we got ordered to work containment, keeping the flames from spreading. Only one Hydromancer showed up since the scene didn’t trip as many stations as the hotel had. She put a water bubble over the whole thing to protect surrounding properties while the rest of us did things the usual way, with hoses. We threw water on it, but really, as far gone as it was, everyone knew we mostly intended to let it burn itself out.

  It’s a long, sweaty, messy afternoon.

  Once the joint is a huge pile of smoking ashes, I get stuck rolling up the hoses again. Some of the guys still give me shit for being a woman. I don’t even need to read their intention: they’re hoping it’s too much for little ol’ me and I go whining and crying to the lieutenant or someone higher up the food chain. They’d find it funny to watch ‘the girl’ cry. I still don’t get why they think this is so difficult. Tedious, yes. Ass-busting? No.

  I glance down at the bundle of hose over my shoulder that I’m carrying to the truck. Hmm. They always look at me weird, like they’re waiting for something. It occurs to me as I heave the first bundle into the back that I’ve seen the guys grunt doing this. Dunn had trouble with the hotel door that I kicked clear in. And Lamar. I did throw him straight out of his chair when we arm-wrestled.

  Wings. Horns. Huh. Maybe I am way stronger than a woman my size ought to be. That would certainly explain a few things… like Vince Milligan. Who’s that? Oh, just some kid I kicked in the balls in fifth grade. He’d been teasing me all year for being poor. When I ignored that, he picked on me for being too pale. Which, well, I was, so… whatever. The asshole pissed me off when he started saying shit about my mom, so I pushed him and told him to shut up. He hit me, like straight up fist-to-the-face hit me. Everyone watching us gasped that he’d legit slugged a girl smaller than him. Looked worse than it was. I don’t remember it hurting much at all, but it did make me see red. At that age, what did I know about fighting? First thing that came to mind―punt him where it hurts most.

  He crumpled straight to the ground and didn’t get up. Wow, did he scream.

  Fortunately, enough of our classmates (and a teacher) saw him nail me in the nose first that I didn’t get expelled, but Vince never came back. He transferred to a private school after he got out of the hospital. Rumor went around that I’d cracked his pelvis. From that day onward, everyone left me alone or avoided me, which suited me fine.

  I’m on all fours atop the truck putting the sixth hose away when a man’s voice comes from behind me.

  “Hey, need a hand?”

  I look back at Jason Dunn. He’s pale too, being a ginger, but not to the point of a freak like me. “Hey. I thought this was women’s work?”

  “Ehh, don’t mind those guys. They’re too dense to understand you don’t let them get to you.” He tosses a hose up.

  “Dense, yeah.” I catch it and slide it in place. “That’s one way to call it.”

  He laughs and wanders off to get the next hose. I hop down and start rolling another from where the guys had laid them all out straight to drain. While bundling it up, a shimmer to the right grabs my eye. A spot among the wet, smoldering ash emits a weak, but noticeable purplish glow.

  Okay, that’s not reflected sun.

  “Hang on a sec. Be right back,” I say, before leaving the half-rolled hose and crossing the parking lot to the edge of what had once been an up-and-coming bistro.

  A ragged trace of the outer wall remains surrounding heaps of smoking debris, making the former restaurant resemble a giant ashtray. My gaze fixed on the glowing spot, I step over a low part of the wall and navigate my way inside.

  “Hey,” calls an older man. “Hold on. We haven’t been in there yet.”

  I stop two paces from the wall and spin to face a guy with wild, white hair rushing over. He’s in a dress uniform―white shirt, black pants―and has lieutenant’s insignia on his shoulders. He outranks me (and his tone is more requesting than ordering), so I wait.

  “Amari?” he asks, once he’s close enough to read the black letters on the reflective yellow tag across my coat. “You got a reason for going back in? Trying to keep tromping to a minimum so we can get a proper investigation done.”

  His lieutenant’s pins have a little red star in them, and he’s got a Fire Marshal’s Office ribbon. If he’s from the FMO, he’s arson investigation. His nametag reads Hilleman. J.

  “I thought I saw something strange. Something you guys might want to take a look at.”

  Hilleman leans on the wall and peers past me. “I don’t see anything. What caught your eye?”

  “I’m not sure. A glint of purple light. Give me a moment, and I’ll tell you more.” I pick my way through the ash without waiting for permission. Hey, easier to ask for forgiveness, right? “It’s just over here.

  To my surprise, Hilleman doesn’t rip my head off. He hurries off to the side to enter via a gap that used to be a doorway. Guess if I had on dress slacks, I wouldn’t want to crawl over a half-burned wall either. I set my boots with care, trying to not fall on my ass while making at least some effort to minimize disruption.

  Hilleman follows me to the spot where the light is still shimmering. He doesn’t notice it until we’re three steps away, at which point he lets out an, “Oh, that!? How on Earth did you catch that from all the way back there?” He gestures at where Dunn is still rolling hose. “I’m not sure I’d have seen that if you hadn’t led me right to it.”

  “Lucky, I guess?” I squat nearby and brush my gloved fingers over the ash pile, exposing an amethyst crystal about the size of a chickpea. “Crystal of some kind.”

  He stoops, squinting at it. “Could be a bauble someone dropped.”

  “Could be.” Random dropped jewelry doesn’t tend to glow. At least not usually. I pull my glove off and grasp the crystal.

  The second my fingers touch it, an explosion of phantasmal light surrounds me. I tend to react to being startled by going statue still. Spectral men and women, walls, and tables recreate the restaurant that had been―up until a few hours ago―standing here. I find myself squatting in a ghostly shadow of the past. Waiters and waitresses walk by in the aisle. Diners at other tables seem to be talking but make no sound. Everything is transparent and washed out, all the color muted to an odd sepia tone―except for one man.

  My point of view is a little above and behind him. His hair is black with more than a few greys, and he’s got it combed back into a helmet that could deflect bullets. In the midst of picking at what appears to be some manner of pasta-and-shrimp dish, he takes the crystal out of his pocket and affixes it to the bottom of his table with two-sided tape. No one seems to notice.

  In an instant, everyone vanishes.
I get the feeling time has gone forward by several hours. My point of view is at the level of a toddler, below the tables. The crystal, still stuck in place, emits a brilliant red flash. Serpents of flame go in all directions. For the second time in minutes, I’m startled enough for my muscles to lock up.

  The vision fades, leaving me staring down at shiny, black shoes. Hands squeeze my shoulders, holding me upright.

  “―medical crew over here,” yells Hilleman.

  “Huh?” I look up at the lieutenant who’s squatting in front of me, gripping me by the shoulders. “What?”

  “Are you all right, Amari?” asks Hilleman. “You lost consciousness.”

  “I’m okay.” I hold up the crystal. “I think I just had… I don’t know… a vision?”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  I explain what I saw. “I watched the man plant the crystal. This is what started the fire.”

  Hilleman’s face collapses into an expression like I told him he needed to audit 30,000 reports.

  When I glance down again at the crystal, my mind fills with the image of a smiling older woman. Her pewter hair hangs shoulder-length, and her glasses have faeries built into the frames on either side. A strong feeling of positive energy washes over me. That woman liked this crystal. A lot. Almost as if she regarded it as a living pet.

  “Whoa,” I say.

  “What?” Hilleman stops massaging the bridge of his nose and stares at me. “There’s more?”

  “Think I saw the person the firebug bought the crystal from.” I offer it up to him. “Guess this is yours now, for the investigation.”

  Hilleman groans. “Ugh. Magic. Why do I have a sinking feeling we’re not going to find any accelerants when we do the testing?” He holds the crystal in his palm, glaring at it. “Amari, how would you feel about assisting in this investigation? It’s a bit outside our usual scope. We could use a psychic.”

  “I’m not…” I blink. “Okay, maybe I am. This is the first time I’ve ever had one of those… uhh, visions. Don’t you guys have a magic division?”

  “Well, we did have a guy, but…” Hilleman blanches. “The umm, position’s still vacant. Hang around for a little bit, will you?”

  “Sure Ell-tee.” I shrug and make my way back to the engine, but Dunn’s already got the hoses away.

  He smiles, leaning against the back end. “I’d be annoyed you were gone so long, but you did get most of it done before I volunteered. What’cha talkin’ to the FM about?”

  “Oh, saw something in the ash.” I sit on the bumper and explain what happened.

  Dunn lowers himself next to me, legs wide, holding his helmet between his knees. “So you’re psychic, too?”

  Oh my. He’s crushing on me. It’s shining off him like a three-alarm fire at a propane bottling plant. This is a legitimately new experience for me. I’ve read curiosity on the first couple of boys I kissed, and a whole bunch of ‘let’s do it’ on the ones that followed. Never before have I felt like a guy wanted like a relationship or something beyond jumping to the sex part as fast as possible. I suppose some of that is my fault for being the ‘bad girl’ during school. Most of the nice guy types steered well away from me, and it’s not like I went out of my way to socialize.

  “Yeah, I guess I am. Always had been. In a different way, though.”

  He grins. “Oh? Like you can read minds?”

  “Not really.” I stare at my hands, fidgeting with the gloves I’m holding. “More like I can look at people and understand what their overall mindset is, what they’re intent on doing in the moment… sometimes what kind of person they are.”

  His body stiffens. “So―”

  “What are your intentions?” I turn the bundle of gloves over and over. “You’re circling around, feeling me out, hoping I’m receptive to being asked on a date. And I think you’re also hoping for something a little more than a hook up.”

  Dunn is done. He sputters, chuckles a little, and stares at me with abject worry.

  “I think it’s cute. Though, I must admit that’s not the reaction I was expecting when you, uhh, saw me the other day.” I look up, finally making eye contact. “That… other stuff doesn’t bother you?”

  “Umm.” He lets his helmet dangle by its strap over one finger. “You know, I’ve been wondering myself why it doesn’t. One of my friends is seeing a woman with pointy ears.”

  “Elves aren’t real.”

  “Oh, of course not.” He chuckles. “She had them modified by a Lifemage. I know you’re the psychic one and all, but last week… I’ve never had someone really care about me that much before, whether I lived or died. I never even thought about the… wings and stuff. I mean, you didn’t even know you could shrug off a backdraft like that, and you still refused to leave me there.”

  I shrug. “Fire never scared me. In fact, it has the reverse effect. I find it comforting.”

  “That’s cool.” He twists his helmet back and forth.

  “No…” I lean against him, head on his shoulder, and tilt my head so we make eye contact. “Fire is warm, not cool.”

  He laughs.

  “Give it a couple days, and if you still want to ask me out on a date, I’ll accept.” I sit up straight and smile at him.

  He stares at me quizzically. “Couple days?”

  Hilleman, plus two other men, an older guy with a grey flat-top afro and a mid-thirties white dude carrying a suitcase cross the parking lot toward us.

  “Yep.” I stand. “I can see your intent, but not the why of it. I’m asking you to let things settle in your head and make sure the way you’re feeling right now isn’t some reaction to what happened. I’m… intrigued by all this, but I don’t want you to get pulled into a relationship that won’t work because you’ve convinced yourself that you owe me.”

  He stands and leans close. “I can see that, but it’s not only because you saved my ass.”

  Hilleman and the other two stop a few paces away.

  I wink and give him my number. “Looks like I gotta go.”

  Dunn digs his phone out from under all his gear and adds me to his contacts. “Got it. Call you… tomorrow?”

  “That works,” I say.

  Grinning, he wanders off to finish helping with the cleanup.

  I approach the three FMs.

  “Amari, this is Lawrence Ellis”―the guy with the grey afro nods―“and Paul Hayden.”

  The guy with the case flashes a weary smile. “I couldn’t find anything on that little crystal you found.”

  “It’s arcane,” says Ellis. “Clearly.”

  “No accelerants in there.” Hayden pats his equipment. “Beyond the oil from the kitchen. Based on the burn pattern, the fire started at twelve different places with an extreme amount of heat, but there’s no detectable cause of ignition.”

  Hilleman shakes his head while sighing out his nose. “It’s usually like that when magic gets involved. Look, Amari, we’d like you to help out with this investigation. You’ve got a good eye and a good instinct about fire.”

  He doesn’t want to deal with it. Doesn’t even like that his team has to juggle this. I can tell he’s not hoping for failure, but he’s not a fan of magic. Wants nothing to do with it. I did something supernatural, so I’m a giant friggin’ guinea pig he can offload this on.

  “How does that work?” I ask.

  “I’ve already spoken to Captain Greene. She’s in charge of the arson investigation unit of the Fire Marshall’s Office. In turn, she’s spoken with Lieutenant Sims. For the duration of this investigation, you’d be temporarily attached to the FMO and would be working with Lieutenant Ellis here.”

  Lieutenant Ellis chuckles. “Please, call me Lawrence.”

  “Assuming, of course, you’re interested,” adds Hilleman.

  Being ‘in the shit’ is an allure that I find difficult to shake, but this also sounds fascinating. And it’s not like he’s offering a permanent transfer or anything. Why not? This could be fun.

  “
Sure,” I say.

  Lawrence checks his watch. Wow. I didn’t think anyone still had one of those in the smartphone era. “How confident are you that the crystal’s the source? Do you think there’s anything else in there we missed?”

  “Pretty sure, but I can check around again, see if I notice anything else.”

  “All right. Let’s give it another walkthrough. After that, why don’t you go clean up and switch to the polo and we can try and figure out where to go from here.”

  Natalie comes to mind.

  I wink and start walking toward the burned ruin. “I’ve got an idea already, once we’re done here.”

  ver the next few hours, I roam the burned-out restaurant with Lawrence. He shows me the spots where they believe ignition occurred, though at this point, their theory that the fire started in twelve different places is based on the spread of the burn pattern on the ground. The fire had been so hot, little of the interior structure remains. It’s difficult to even identify where the boundaries between various rooms had been. Nothing else draws my attention, and by the time we leave, the rest of the fire crew is long gone.

  He gives me a ride back to my stationhouse in a red SUV labeled Fire Marshal. After a quick shower and change to a fresh uniform (a white polo shirt with FD markings and black BDU pants), I hurry outside and climb into his truck.

  While we’d been snooping around for any additional clues, I’d mentioned Natalie. He liked the idea, so he’d agreed to let her have a look at the crystal once I’d changed. The shower leaves me smelling only a little like an ashtray. I feel almost official or something, going out in public in this uniform. Normally, it’s hidden under an extra set of flame-retardant pants and a big coat plus air tank.

  “Here.” Lawrence hands me a nametag that reads assistant arson investigator.

  I take it and pin it on my shirt. “Thanks. Guess if I need to project authority, it’ll help.”