Nascent Shadow (Temporal Armistice Book 1)

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Great. So, I’m all set then. How long is Lawrence going to be in surgery? When can I come back and see him?”

  “We can’t release you just yet,” says the doctor.

  “Why not?”

  “We need to confirm your claim of who you are first. You must admit showing up on the roof in the nude with a severely-injured man raises a multitude of questions.”

  I sigh. “My wallet and cell are in the woods somewhere in the wreckage of that house… if they haven’t been vaporized. Is there a phone I can use?”

  “Sure.” He stands and calls in the security officer who’d been outside my door the whole time.

  “Dave’ll bring you to a phone,” says the doctor.

  “Thanks.” I hop out of bed and follow the hospital cop to an empty nurse’s station a short distance down the corridor. My ass is on display for the world, but I don’t care.

  He points at a phone. “Dial nine for an outside line.”

  “Thanks.” I call my stationhouse.

  “Engine 53,” says Kenny.

  “Hey, Kenny. It’s Brooklyn.”

  “Oh, hey, FMO girl. What’s up?”

  I hold back the sigh. “I’m at the hospital with Lawrence. I need to talk to Lieutenant Sims.”

  “Oh, shit. You okay?” asks Kenny.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, but Lawrence is in surgery.”

  “Oh wow. Poor guy. Hold on. Let me check if Sims is free.”

  The line cuts to silence with a click.

  “Amari?” asks Sims, about twenty seconds later. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m at Temple University Hospital. Lieutenant Lawrence Ellis from the Fire Marshal’s Office got hurt pretty bad. A mage attempted to kill us by setting off an explosion. I don’t have any ID with me and they think I’m nuts. Can you please show up here and tell them I am who I say I am?”

  “All right. Give me a couple minutes. I’ll call Captain Greene and let her know her guy’s in bad shape. How’s he doing?”

  I explain his condition as best I can, given what I remember.

  “Damn. Hope he pulls through,” says Sims.

  “Yeah.” I choke up a little. “Me too.”

  After hanging up, I follow the hospital cop back to my room. We wind up talking shop for a while, and I get the sense he believes I’m not a nutjob, since we know a lot of the same names from the fire department and EMT crowd.

  Lieutenant Sims arrives about forty minutes later. He also gets the magic trinket gave me temporary wings story. Like most people who aren’t users of magic, he reacts to it with ‘bah, magic was involved, whatever you say.’ I’m out the door in borrowed clothes soon after, and Sims is kind enough to give me a ride home.

  He clears his throat when I open the SUV door. “Do you know if this temporary thing is ongoing or will you be back with us tomorrow? Only asking so I know if I can tell you to take the day off and get some rest. That’s quite a story.”

  I pause with one foot on the ground, one on the running board. “I don’t really know. We tracked down the guy who made the incendiary device, and got some names, but the mage got away, Lawrence got hurt, and the names we did get are all part of organized crime. It’s the police’s turn for this one, I think. We know how the fire started, and have a good guess why.”

  He nods. “All right. As far as I’m concerned, you’re back with us then, so I want you to take tomorrow and collect yourself. If anyone from the FMO gives you shit, send them to me.”

  “Thanks, Ell-tee.”

  “Wednesday?” he asks.

  “Yeah. See you then.” I smile and shut the door.

  After a trudge up six flights of stairs, I stagger to my apartment and stare at the locked door. My keys are somewhere in a house in the woods. Dammit. I really wanted my bed.

  I grumble my way back down the stairs and go outside before taking the fire escape to the roof. It’s getting dark now, so my tolerance for care is weak. After peeling off the charity Temple University sweatshirt they gave me, I let my wings out and zip off into the air. I’m beginning to understand why all those paintings of angels and succubi are always bare-chested. It’s such a pain in the ass to have to keep taking my shirt off and putting it back on.

  It only takes a few minutes to fly back to Martin Bradstreet’s apartment, a much quicker trip than heading all the way out to that damn house again. Landing in an alley nearby affords me the chance to put the hoodie back on and walk like a normal person. I’m like twenty steps from the entrance to the apartment building’s parking lot when the bwoop of a police siren startles me into a statue. That sound scares me more than normal startlement. It snuck up on me a lot as a kid, and it usually ended with me getting a new pair of bracelets, but that didn’t bother me as much as the long, disappointed talks from Mom.

  Once the paralytic shock wears off, I look over my shoulder at a pair of officers rolling by slow in their patrol car.

  “You should get inside as fast as possible, ma’am,” says a guy that can’t be older than nineteen. “There’s a bear roaming around.”

  I blink. Oh, whew. I’m not in trouble. “A bear?”

  “Yeah. Totally serious,” says the driver, a fortyish guy with a few grey hairs and extra pounds. “No damn idea how a freakin’ bear gets into Philly, but we got a ton of reports and some pictures.”

  I think I know how a bear got into Philly. We left the damn portal open. Oops.

  “Thanks.” I point at the apartment building. “I’ll go right inside.”

  They both wave at me and drive off.

  It’s almost funny, but that poor bear is probably scared.

  As expected, the apartment is still empty. I don’t feel like dealing with the back and forth of bugging the super, so I press on the door until it breaks open. The rug and sofa are shredded. White fluff has scattered all over the floor and it looks like the bear broke out a window. Probably jumped since it’s only the second floor. Curiosity gets the better of me and I peer down.

  Below the window, a pile of trash bags has exploded all over the sidewalk and the street. Hard to say if he landed on them and they popped or if he shredded them after touchdown. Probably a bit of both. With a shrug, I push off the windowsill and head to the bedroom.

  Fortunately, the portal’s still open. I step through into the woods and decide to strip and leave these clothes behind in case Craig has come back or he’s left some other nasty surprise. I wad the sweatshirt and jeans around the cheap sneakers and stash them behind a tree. Right now, all I want to do is go home and crawl in bed, though I doubt I’ll get much sleep worrying about Lawrence.

  I storm through the woods to the house, which appears to be abandoned. Squatting behind a pine, I watch for a good five minutes, and nothing moves. The forest is silent, save for the ambient din of wildlife at night. Good. Since I’d rather not step barefoot on sharp shit, I shift fully. Yes, the armor even covers the bottoms of my feet. It also seems to be covering everything other than my face too. How do full Shaar’Nath pee? Or procreate? I wonder if the armor’s something they can ‘take out or put away’ as needed?

  Experimentation can wait.

  A while of rummaging around in the debris makes me a happy girl. My pants wound up on the floor as soon as I got angry enough to stop caring about who saw me as a ‘demon,’ so they weren’t exposed to the brunt of Craig’s final-fuck-you explosion. My phone survived! I grab my wallet as well as my keys and leave, crunching over smashed boards, broken glass, and shattered drywall. Pity; this house looked expensive.

  Before long, I’m dressed and back through the portal. Hmm. How do I close it from this side? The wall with the symbol became the doorway. Oh, there it is. It moved to the right. One finger poke and the rear of the closet solidifies. No more bears.

  If there’s anything useful at that house, the cops can deal with it.

  My cell phone wakes me up by having the audacity to ring at nine the next morning. I don’t recognize the number, so I ignore it. It rings again
as soon as it stops. Ugh. Fine. Persistent bastard.

  “Hello?” I croak.

  “Am I speaking to Brooklyn Amari?” asks a woman who sounds on the older side.

  “Yes.”

  “Hello, Miss Amari. This is Captain Evelyn Greene of the Fire Marshal’s Office.”

  I sit up. Shit. “Good morning, captain. Sorry. Had a rough night. Lieutenant Sims told me to take the day.”

  “That’s fine. Would you feel up to meeting with me a little later this morning at my office?”

  She doesn’t sound pissed, so I try not to panic too much. “Of course, ma’am. What time should I be there?”

  “Eleven is fine,” says Captain Greene.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there.”

  “Talk to you then.”

  I stare at the blank screen for a couple of minutes. Eventually, my panic fades. Greene is Lawrence’s boss. She’s probably going to ask questions about what happened. Crap! Lawrence. I hunt down the number for the hospital, but no one will give me any information about him since I’m not a relative. “Come on, dammit, I’m with the fire department. I was ten feet away from him when he got hurt” gets me put on hold.

  “Miss Amari?” asks a confident male voice.

  “Yes.” Is my life on repeat?

  “I’m Doctor Rao. I understand you’re with the fire department?”

  “That’s right. I’m the one who brought him in. We were working together at the time he was hurt.”

  The doctor clears his throat. “I can tell you that he’s out of surgery and resting now. We expect he’ll make a full recovery, though he will likely be here for a few weeks.”

  My heart swells. “Oh, thank you. When will he be able to have visitors?”

  “Probably tonight or tomorrow at the earliest. Might want to plan for tomorrow since he’s on a good deal of painkillers right now.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “Have a good day,” says the doctor.

  Whew. I flop back on my bed and stare at the ceiling.

  The shoes of my dress uniform click down a long corridor in City Hall, echoing off the marble. Captain Greene’s office sits near the end on the left. It’s smaller than I expected, but still nice. A portrait of the mayor hangs on the wall behind her, and her bookshelves are full of important-looking tomes as well as small statues and fire service kitsch. The captain’s edging up on fifty. She looks good for her age. Thick, greying hair hangs straight to her shoulders, framing an angular face of deep brown.

  Peering in the door, I ask, “Ma’am?”

  “Please, sit.” She gestures at one of the two chairs facing her desk.

  I walk over and take a seat.

  “How is Lawrence?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to see him yet, but I called the hospital. They said he’s resting now, but won’t be able to have visitors until tomorrow.”

  She nods, her grim expression relaxing. “I wanted to thank you for saving his life.”

  “It wasn’t a choice, ma’am.” To keep myself from fidgeting, I clamp my hands over my knees.

  “I understand the man who you went to interview fled the scene, also injured.”

  “That’s correct, ma’am. Catching him was not worth Lawrence’s life.”

  Captain Greene stares at her desk in solemn silence for a moment. “I’ve been reading over the investigation notes for this case. Our official opinion is that Michael Rossellini conspired with at least two other individuals, Ronald Harris and this mage―”

  “Craig Eaves,” I add.

  She clicks a computer mouse a few times, gazing at her screen. “That’s not in the file, but of course it isn’t. Lieutenant Ellis would’ve been doing this. You don’t have access.”

  “There’s also the bartender at Otto’s.” I explain my theory that Michael contacted that man who put him in touch with either Ronald or Craig. I’m still fuzzy if there is a Ronald Harris or if that had been a disguised Craig. Eaves said Harris brought him the crystal, but that could’ve been BS.

  “We’re quite certain this has connections to organized crime.” Captain Greene scowls. “All we can do is put together the most solid evidence possible. Going after them is for the police and the courts. We’ve established the cause of the fire and have the device. That is our responsibility here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Might I ask why you decided to go confront this Mr. Eaves in person instead of referring it to the police?”

  “Magic was involved, ma’am.” I explain the portal in the empty apartment. “Once I activated the portal, I expected Eaves would become aware that it had been opened. I thought that by the time we involved the police, he’d either be long gone, or the department’s policy on magic-users would complicate the investigation.”

  “Which policy would that be?” asks Captain Greene.

  “Umm, the ‘eek, it’s a mage, kill it’ policy.” I offer a weak smile. “Especially once he revealed himself as a Pyromancer.”

  “Hmm.” She rubs her chin. “And why did this man attack you?”

  “Because we cornered him. I’m… a little psychic, ma’am. Psychometry, it’s how I found a lot of it so far. When I confronted Eaves, I knew enough that he became frightened the Mob would kill him. Someone named Ernesto… I don’t know if ‘Ernesto’ is a hitman or a boss.”

  Captain Greene grins. “Must be dangerous if his mere name made a Pyromancer mess his pants.”

  Oh, that was me. I smile to myself.

  “Lieutenant Ellis had a recorder going during your meeting, but right around the time that statue starts moving, the video and audio become static. Did something happen at that moment?”

  “Maybe the golem was giving off some kind of interference. It kind of had all my attention. Eaves may have done something I didn’t notice.” I’m easy enough with lies that it flows with little effort. And here I thought my skill came from being a teenager. It’s been a couple years since I needed to hurl a false-itude that big. I hope it doesn’t bite me in the ass. So wow, I mess with cameras when I change. Good to know.

  “Bah. Magic,” says Captain Greene.

  My smile turns sad. “Lawrence says that a lot.”

  “That he does. I’ve got an email here from him speaking highly of you in regards to an open position with my department.”

  I nod. “I’ve been considering it.”

  “While we may be able to bend certain requirements given your paranormal talents, the position does require a basic level of competence with arson investigation.”

  There goes that. “Umm. I guess Lawrence was expecting me to jump in and hit the ground running, learn while doing.”

  She smiles. “That may still be on the table, if he’s up to taking on a probationary understudy. The open slot with the investigative team is the primary for handling matters involving arcane or unexplainable phenomena. Applicants are not exactly beating down the door.”

  “Yeah,” I say, looking down.

  After what happened, Lawrence may have had his fill of it. A month from now, he could be in Florida on the beach. I don’t know why the thought of that disappoints me. Maybe I do want the transfer. Going back to school in my downtime to study arson investigation sounds like a drag. I’m not sure I’d chase the transfer if I had to do that―I’m happy pulling people out of burning buildings.

  I’m starting to think that’s a lot safer.

  “Thank you for the advice. I’m still trying to make up my mind.”

  Captain Greene smiles. “Of course. You’re young yet. You’ve got time. I imagine we will eventually find someone, so if you decide to pursue it, don’t wait too long.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “And by the way, a psychometrist would be an enormous help. Quite a bit easier to figure out what happened when you’re watching it unfold instead of studying burn patterns.”

  I think she wants me to put in for the interview. Erk. I better make up my mind. “Yeah.”

  “What’
s it like?” she asks, oddly casual.

  Her shift in tone from commander to curious relaxes me. I lapse into a description of how it felt to see Ronald plant the crystal. The whole time, Captain Greene stares at me like a young girl enthralled by a spooky campfire story. I shouldn’t read too much into that, but I do get the sense she likes me and hopes I want the job.

  But, going back to school, bleh. The thought of it fills me with the same loathing I had as a teenager. At least if I go, they’d better pay for the classes.

  he following day, I stop in at the hospital to see Lawrence around eleven in the morning. He’s still out cold, but no longer appears to be knocking on death’s door. The rich, brown hue is back to his face and his breathing has lost the wheeziness. I cringe at the sight of a drain tube coming out of his side to a tank of reddish-brown fluid. That giant stick had to have pierced a lung.

  I sit nearby and talk randomly about this and that, mostly Captain Greene’s apparent nudging for me to put in for the arson investigation unit. If I got it, I’d be the youngest person ever, but I worry about my lack of credentials creating legal issues down the road. Some slick defense attorney could turn it into a ‘he-said-she-said’ if all I’ve got to go on is whatever vision I claim to have seen.

  Maybe I’m thinking about it wrong. I wouldn’t be standing up there pointing at someone and yelling ‘they did it because I saw it.’ No, I’d use the visions like breadcrumbs to lead me to tangible evidence… like I did with the Rossellini case. Only that didn’t exactly work out. That’s why I’m hesitating. I’m pissed off at Eaves, and frustrated that even with being able to grab stuff and see visions, I couldn’t hand the police enough to let them go after anyone.

  “I’m gonna find that bastard, Lawrence.” I sigh and mutter, “With or without cops.”

  A while later, he wakes up long enough to call me ‘nurse’ a few times and babble incoherently about how much he doesn’t want me to let it rain tomorrow. Wow, he’s high as hell. They must’ve given him the good stuff. I get him some water and attempt to have a conversation, but he can’t seem to wrap his brain around my not being a nurse or having powers of weather control.