| Sep. 29th, 2005 @ 11:47 pm Horror - Short Story - Tripping on Mercury |
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I thought it never rained in southern California.
Five miles from home and the roads were as slippery as blood on linoleum. At this speed, I would probably kill myself.
“Hey kid, how’d it go?” It was my boss calling, “They get suspicious?”
“Nope, those credentials worked.”
“So what’s the scoop?”
I really hated him for this. Mal retired years ago, something about a bum heart, but he still loved it. He now lives vicariously through his staff of crime fighters. I happened to be one of his favorites to call after a case. His enthusiasm for the macabre was annoying me more than usual.
I guess I was tired.
“Looks like some guys, were playing at Harry Potter.”
“Go, on”, yeah the boss sounded almost giddy, he really enjoyed the gory ones, especially when the young were involved.
“I managed to sneak in and they had some incantations scribbled on the floor,” I kept to myself that I could tell they used pigs blood to write it with . “Most of it was gibberish, but I could swear I picked out some Alexandrian and Hermetic alchemy symbols.”
I wasn’t sure but they must have done some research to get that close. I’ll let him deal with it. I am just the clean-up guy.
“Hmmm”, I could hear from the phone, he was worried, “So tell me kid, what did they end up calling down, flying monkeys?”
“A gorgon considering the state of the lab,” For a moment, he was silent no one wants a gorgon on Earth no matter how morbid you might be. Most real magi knew the precautions to avoid those kind of accidents. I was hoping that would have satisfied his curiosity. “That’s what I picked up when I got into the area…and she was powerful.”
“Odds are the kids were dead minutes after it reached our plane.”
“Shit, had it begun to--”
“--Nope, this one was a penance construct, pretty much turned to dust right after it killed the boys.”
I hope he finds a hobby… soon. “Alright, kid, get home. Take tomorrow morning off and I will see you at 1500 for a proper debrief and a cleansing.”
I hated cleansings, the smell of ozone stayed with you for days; at least I could sleep in.
I get home at 3am. I say hi to Bailey; give him a kibbly treats and apologize for coming home late. She’s always annoyed with my late hours. After my shower, I crash, it’s 4am and I can try to dream about a life with out monsters, demons, and dead teenagers
* * * *
KLANG – KLANG – KLANG
* * * *
Crap, it’s 7am and that fucker in the 40-footer is ringing his fog bell again. He must have hooked up with more boat HOs. One of these days, I am going to force feed that cheery bastard his own clangor. Why did I think it would be a good idea to live on a barge? I know why. Because I thought it was quaint and of course when it’s the site of a mass suicide, it’s real easy to buy it on the cheap, really, really cheap
I am about to fall-asleep again when my phone rings. I am not picking it up.
I am lying; of course I’ll pick it up.
I know it’s the boss. No one else has my number.
“What,” I barked, I am supposed to be asleep; I am no longer civil.
“Kid, your flight leaves at 12pm; don’t be late”. He sounded almost giddy.
“I am off the clock, fuck off.”
“Sorry, Slick, Ardra just got a bad one and you are the only one of my guys still allowed to leave the state without prior judicial notice.”
“Again, I am off the f’n clock, get Richards!”
“Richards is in a coma.”
“Roberts?”
“After Mexico, just call him, rustle”
“Juarez, Thomas, Casey”
“Juarez, massive corporeal deconstruction but he should be reconstructed in a few years, Thomas quit because of the thing with the humpback, and Casey well…well we aren’t really sure but he isn’t going anywhere…for awhile.”
“Look kid, you are one of my best, the bench is hurt and you are all we got.”
Fuck me, Go Team, “Any idea what it is this time Mal?”
“Something bad, very, very, end of the world type-stuff, we think, as she gives me the 411, I will patch it through to your PDA.” he said as though it would reassure me.
“Can you tell me where I am going, at least?”
“D.C., I also have a team waiting for you there. You are going to need help on this one.”
“You know I work alone
“Kid, they are some of my best people.”
“I thought I was your best?”
“I lied, now get out of bed and get ready, a cab’s on the way.”
He had already hung up before I could call him an a-hole. I knew the routine. Get the call; catch the flight; odds are all the info would be on my PDA by the time my flight was in the air.
I showered; had the last of my famous roast duck and couscous and started packing again. I never know what to expect on these trips it’s always bad and I am never prepared but shit happens, maybe this time I’ll get lucky
Before I can begin my usual ritual of why I hate my job; should quit and become a goat farmer in Vermont, my cab arrives.
Surprise, my plane was held over, something about engine problems. The type of problems you need to blame on someone else if no on catches them, I suppose. I hate waiting.
At, least in first class the stewardess’ pretend to give a damn about your comfort. It usually begins with a bobbing of the head and an insouciant smile more akin to the Joker than your grandmother.
On take off, I get out my PDA. Yep, Fully loaded…gotta love wireless, it had the usual stuff, flight info, car rental, and my hotel room. I get to my operations folder, and go automatically to the event file
“Fuck Me”…I sit there for a full 10 minutes, just staring at the screen and swearing under my breath.
I make a call to the office using the air-phones. Fuck him, I am not wasting my minutes
By the third ring I am swearing and considering good goating land in Dorset…
“Lacie here.”
“Yo, get me Mal.” I was in no mood for small talk.
“Rom, how’s my big boy doing, want to play”, I wish I could say the same for Lacie.
We found Lacie six months ago; she was running down Rodeo ranting about the end of the world, and calling Aristotle, a prick who liked to fuck little boys. Nothing new about psychos in LA except she was speaking in several dead languages, Sanskrit and Aramaic were the only two we could identify. The doctors at the “clinic” wrote it off as a fractured-personality dementia induced by excessive use of narcotics and hallucinogenic. Mal was a little less narrow-minded.
Thanks to Ardra, and a few shaman from back east, I knew, we found out her body was being used as a time-share for the souls of several dead scribes. A few calls to the mayor the governor and some state senators about dead actress’ and cocaine drops, Mal managed to get her placed in his custody. With some stronger drugs and training, she is now able to control her ‘guests’, most of the time; she is even able to call on specific ones to handle some esoteric translation. With additional training, I am sure she’ll become a revolving door for the little bastards in her head. Until then , she is the receptionist—correction office manager.
Lacie was also a big fan of phone sex and the thought of getting me off on the plane was turning her on.
“Another time, where is he?”
“With some Oracles…has been, since he talked to you, he looked worried.”
“I am strictly the fluff girl around here,” referring to one of her past employment endeavors.
“I bet. Tell his ass to call me on my cell, tonight”
“Sure thing” I am pretty sure as she hung up I heard her call me a dick. I can’t blame her I am in a pissy mood. Lack of sleep and dumbass magicks will do that to you.
After, a shot of Jack, with a Jack chaser, I get back to my reading.
Daddy!!
I AM RIGHT HERE SON
I am afraid, where’s mommy!?!
SHE ISN’T HERE YET.
But she left a long time ago!
SOON, YOU’LL BE WITH HER…VERY SOON
I wake up sweating, I don’t even remember falling asleep and the guy next to me and the rest of the cabin is looking nervous.
I remember children and rain. I don’t mind the dreams it’s just I wish they were mine.
Someone on this plane hates his family…a lot.
Just before I can begin to mind fuck myself some more, the pilot comes on to notify us that we will be landing at Reagan in 30 minutes and to return to our seats to their upright positions.
* * * *
“Thank you, Mr. Strange, if you head out those doors, a transport will be waiting to take you to your car. I hope you enjoy your time in Washington, DC.” She nodded. “And when can we expect your brother Remus”
I laugh at that joke the way you do, when you are wondering how many more times people are going to keep thinking they are clever. Stepford freak, at 1am no one should be that damn chipper. The teller’s head bobbed at every fourth word.
Outside, I met a similar chipper clone. His badge told me his name was Charlie. At my passing interest at his name, he decided we were meant to be fast friends.
“You get to fly first class, I haven’t yet but I want to, just to see what the hype is about.”
A few grumbled acknowledgements on my part were all the encouragement he needed to continue his rambling. I saw salvation few yards away in the form of the parking area; just then he was yanked out window
Crap, I don’t need this now.
I was suddenly developing a migraine. I walked outside of the van and it was a sight.
He had managed to pull the guy onto the roof of the van with himself and was truly playing it up. Charlie looked whiter than a country club in Mississippi.
Of course when a 6’4, Goth-ed out vampire starts making with the snarling and talk of using your face as a coaster. I can see that unnerving average folks.
“Alexander”, he always enjoyed his drama.
He looks down at me drool dribbling down his chin, eyes burning red probably more from a hangover then rage. I wonder if he ever threatens to eat his students’ faces. I supposed it wouldn’t matter if he did; he has tenure.
Charlie was starting to lose at it this point, when confronted with the unbelievable; the average human mind generally goes in to regressive traumatic psychosis and in Charlie’s case; they also piss in their pants. He was beginning to beg for his life.
“Human, will you SHUT UP, before I suck the marrow from your spine!”
“Alexander…ENOUGH!” now he was just hamming it up.
He spat out an Arabic word in my direction, best described as asshole or chipmunk and here came the interesting part.
I don’t know if it was the moon but it now looked as if his eyes were glowing green. Charlie on the other hand was a blank slate, as accessible as a hooker during shore leave.
“Look at me human,” as Alexander spoke and Charlie was still mute, “Nothing happened, you dropped off your passenger and you said good night”
“There are no such things as monsters.” Those words repaired the shattered consciousness of what Charlie thinks of as real and sane. With a few magic words, and a mind-altering gaze, just like that, he forgets it all. Vampires, Alexander’s age, rarely master the skill of Joumae. On most attempts, the victims usually end up like rain man minus Judge Wapner, K-Mart and Tom Cruise. Charlie’s mind is fine and will forever lock away the events of tonight and he can go back to a normal life.
Lucky him.
He immediately fell asleep and by the time he gets up he will be happy and free again to believe he has a handle on his world. Someone once said the most merciful thing in the world is the inability of the human mind to correlate its contents.
We left Charlie at the wheel of his van, unconscious and smelling of piss.
Walking back to the limo, Alex was annoyed; obviously being called in to save the world was interfering with his drinking
“This is not California, its 1am here, why are you calling on me?”
“Were you asleep?” Alexander always did talk too much out his ass.
“Civilized people are asleep at 1am”
“Yeah and civilized people don’t have dried werewolf testicles in their spice rack. ”
After a slew of swear words, Alex shut up.
In his limo, the rest of my “team” was waiting inside. Looking them over, they weren’t exactly a cheerful group. They obviously read the report as well or they just hated me. These days who doesn’t.
Youssef, our techno-psycho was clicking away probably trying to convince some IM buddy to have cyber with him; while he hacks into the CIA, again, looking for information to sell.
I shoot a hello over to him with a grunt of annoyance as his way of a response.
She must have said no.
Across from him was Mal’s newest acquisition, Dahlia, we worked together once before but that wasn’t my finest moment. Prague will be picking up the pieces for years to come. I still had no idea a 2-inch water sprite could cause that much damage.
I nod my head to her, “ Miss me?”
“Mate”, it was Dhalia.
I am surprised she even spoke. For a psychic, she was a cranky anti-social bastard. She stayed close enough to cities to live but far enough out to keep from being overwhelmed by brain traffic. Most psychics, they became more and more a pain-in-the-ass the more powerful they became.
And Dahlia wasn’t really powerful; She was just a bitch.
Annoyed, and not one for witty banter, she gashes into my head looking for some more information.
The nosebleed she leaves me with tells me she is still pissed over the Prague-thing.
Alexander signals his driver and 15 minutes later we are crossing the GW Key Bridge into Georgetown.
The ride grinded down to a limp once we hopped onto M street. We weren’t a talkative bunch as you could imagine. Youssef spent most of the time giving his laptop a handjob; Dhalia began meditating trying to halt the emotional shit-wave coming from the city. And Alexander not one to leave a bar full, began drinking from the limo’s honor bar.
I just went back to staring out the window, dreading my next meeting.
It took us another 20 minutes to get to his house, five of which was going up the driveway. The house was simple…as castles went; no more than 8 rooms that I could tell. I never liked this guy but we needed his help besides he couldn’t be that pissed at me. I told the team to wait in the car especially Alexander.
At the door, heavy oak of course it looked blood red in the moonlight, it had an ivory knocker heavy and ornate. It caught the moonlight and it shined a perfect white. The type of white you want to believe angels come in. Grabbing it, I realized it was actually molded bone refined and smoothed, polished to an unnatural gloss. The impression I got off told me it was human.
Before I could release the knocker, I saw them. I don’t know how I missed them. If Dahlia wasn’t being an asshole, I am sure she would have consider telling me they were outside. Alexander barely noticed them as he pouted in the car. Jet lag must be throwing me off.
Shards.
Very few mage, can control one, let alone a few prides.
Only a psycho or worst uses shards like watchdogs, they are mostly broken souls stuck in two realms with no way to free themselves. Alexander coined the phrase metaphysical split-rage-forms at a geek-lecture in Baltimore, a few years back.
He explained that the death of the body was so traumatic that the soul refused to believe it was dead; insane ghosts, mad dogs on paper leashes.
I managed to signal everyone in the car about my circumstance. Alexander looked annoyed. Dahlia was herself and Youssef never looked up from his laptop.
I counted at least 8 around me and a lot more, farther out near the car. The guys inside knew better than to open their doors. Wisps of white air, lighter than cigarette smoke circling me. I am guessing the knocker is what awakened them. It has to be a channel. I know better than to even think about making sudden moves. Generally, they attack on site but I am assuming they are meant to keep visitors in line as they reach the door. I knock on the door again...slowly…very slowly
A few minutes later, the smell of peppermint hits me; someone is casting. The shards disappear and despite my pride, I make a sigh of relief.
I turn back around to find the door open and someone waiting. From her stiff movement, and the clumsy attempt at hiding her inexperience at having human limbs, I guessed she was a new helot. After hearing her voice and seeing her smoked out eyes I could tell she was a fairly powerful body-cast meant to keep something powerful contained…what I don’t even want to guess at.
Inside the house, it is exactly what you would expect: large rooms, hanging tapestries, lots of ornate rococo/baroque-furniture, very 17th century catholic inquisition without the laughs. My escort leads me to a study without saying a word. Usually the helots are so happy to be corporeal again that they usually can’t shut the fuck up.
I could smell more peppermint. Magic filled this place. In his study were books older than Christianity, in a language only readable to old gods and heathens. Assuming you wanted to believed in that type of thing.
I stood there waiting for nearly ten minutes, when I…felt a question crawl at the back of my brain.
“Goetia.”, was all I could say out loud and then everything went black.
I am pretty sure I passed out at the point. I just hope I didn’t puke on myself in the process. |
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