ARC: Peacemaker (17 page)

His eyes grew wider and wider as my rant went on. When I’d run out of steam he said nothing. Then he burst out laughing.

I hadn’t heard him laugh before. It was a wildly abandoned sound from deep in his chest.

“Do. Not. Laugh. At. Me,” I ground out.

He mopped his eyes and reined in his mirth. “My sincerest apologies Virgin, but I’ve never met anyone who speaks their mind like you do. It’s disconcerting… and downright funny.”

“I’m feeling anything but downright funny, Nate.”

The laughter fell from his face. “And so protecting you from the attacker in your apartment, and giving my blood to help you recover from the Mythos scratches were unacceptable actions? From where I stand, you’re blessed that I was there.”

“Well that’s a matter of opinion. But in the spirit of the greater good and coming out of this alive, I will continue to work with you but only if you tell me everything.”

“Everything?”

Right about there, my remaining shred of civility vanished and I raised my voice. “Don’t be so fucking obtuse. Either tell me what’s going on… or
get fucking lost
.”

“There’s no need to be vulgar, Ranger.”

I folded my arms and tried to burn him alive with my stare.

A taxi pulled in and retracted its doors, rescuing us from increasingly curious bystander glances.

“Only get in if you’re going to talk to me, Marshall,” I asked softly.

He hesitated then nodded. “After you, ma’am.”

I let the
ma’am
slide. He folded his body into the back seat after me and we didn’t speak until we reached the connecting bus that would take us the normal tourist route to Divine Province. I wasn’t giving my short-cut up to the Marshall. I didn’t trust him enough.

The bus offered more privacy than the taxi, so I re-opened our conversation when we got clear the Western Quarter. There were only a few people on board, and none of them sitting close. The driver sat behind his everything-proof shutters watching a football game on his screen, while the bus steered itself along the Coastal freeway.

“You said you work for a division of the Marshall Service, so tell me about it.”

He stared past me and out the window. “My division watches and analyses unexplained trends in human behaviours. Pattern changes. We’re not the only ones. Most Intelligence agencies have a similar section. The Marshalls liaise directly with a fraternal group at Langley.”

“How does that work?”

“Mostly, in practice, they issue edicts to us and we enact them. But we have expertise in Native American culture, so they defer to us on things pertaining to it.”

“So you’re saying that every country in the world has a division of their spy service devoted to spiritual shit.”

“An unsophisticated and simplistic summary... but yes.”

“Since when?”

“I haven’t seen any official record on it but my guess is that the secret services
began
with the Spiritual Divisions.”

I digested that for a bit, letting the swaying rhythm of the bus rock me. The air conditioning blew cold air onto my face, causing the back of my throat to itch. “And how do you define spiritual?”

He let out an impatient breath and it was hard to miss the look of irritation on his face. “The Marshall Service’s definition is a hundred and fifty page document. But if I can condense for you: it means anything
not
classified as Traditional Human Reality.”

I mirrored his irritated look. “That’s pretty fuzzy and weird.”

“I don’t claim to know about everything that exists beyond the mundane but I do know some things. In my time with USMS, I’ve investigated or tracked over fifty different kinds of Mythos or talismans.”

“Talismans?”

“Sometimes the talisman is more powerful than the creature.”

“Like the bone feather from the guy in the alley.”

“Maybe. If we find out exactly what it means.”

“Which is why I’m sitting on a bus with you.”

He nodded and fell silent but I wasn’t prepared to let it lie yet.

“So you came here because our secret services think we’ve got trouble from the spirit plane.”

“Patterns have been emerging that point to this city and its fringe groups, with Birrimun Park as the lens point.”

“So your intel thinks I’m just collateral damage on that? Wrong place, wrong time?”

“Actually no, Virgin. We think it has something to do with your father.”

That kinda froze over all my organs. “Dad?”

“Yes. He had connections deep in the community here, amongst many of the spiritual groups. If I tell you something, can you keep it together?”

“I don’t make deals like that. But if you want my compliance… my assistance… you’d better not stop now.”

He hesitated just long enough for me to glimpse the indecision behind his self-assurance. He was taking a risk here. On me.

“We believe your father’s death was not an accident. We think it was the beginning of a push by the Mythos.”

My heart blazed, melting my insides alive again. My breathing accelerated and the pounding in my ears drowned out all other sounds.

Dad. He knew something about Dad!

I wanted to grab him by the shirt and shake more from him. I wanted to know everything.
EVERYTHING.

But somewhere underneath my erratic emotional reaction my brain still ticked over. I tucked my shaking hands under my thighs and turned a cool expression to him. Did it fool him? I couldn’t tell. “And now the ‘push’ as you call it, involves me?”

“Honestly, we don’t know. I’m here to both protect you and learn about you.”

“You’re spying on me?”

“Not the way I see it, Virgin. And if I was, would I have told you this?”

He had a point, but then I didn’t really know how tricky Sixkiller could be.

“We’re getting off at the next stop,” I said, shutting the conversation down for now. “Please don’t pull your guns on anyone unless you absolutely have to.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Oil-streaked privately-owned Velora Line buses sat parked like spokes in a wheel around the Mystere bus stop. They waited there for the visitors to transfer across and plant their butts on the soiled vinyl seats. Once full, they’d rumble them over the bridge into Divine Province.

Everyone who stepped foot on these Velora Lines had to DNA-accept a personal indemnity waiver. The city was quite sure it wasn’t taking responsibility for citizens and tourists who decided to get their kicks on Gilgul Street.

I led Sixkiller off the city commuter bus we were on and bypassed the Veloras, heading straight for the bridge on foot. “We’ll walk across this time. I don’t really like Velora Lines. You could catch anything traveling on them.”

He strode easily beside me, his head swiveling left and right as he scanned and evaluated the location.

I tried to see it through his eyes. Bus depot, light industrial buildings and chicken wire compounds right up to a rivet-heavy bridge. Dull water squeezed past underneath. Sun biting our backs. And flies…

Ahead, the piecemeal urban sprawl of Divine was given context by the scent of a thousand incense burners. Not beautiful. Not ugly. But somehow a very badly conceived juxtaposition of landscapes.

The sound of fluttering wings and a stir in the air alerted me to Aquila’s presence. She glided down in front of us, landing on the Mystere side of the bridge’s handrail.

I glanced at Sixkiller. He saw her, I could tell from his smile.

“Your disincarnate is solicitous.”

“And yours isn’t.”

“I’ve been in many threatening situations over the years. Mine is… selective.”

“So it doesn’t turn up to warn you anymore?”

“Only when things are… precarious. How do you plan to find this Kadee Matari?” he asked.

“It’s siesta time in Mystere. Quiet on the streets and in the bars. We cross through there quickly and into Moonee. I’m pretty sure she’ll find us.”

“Pretty sure?”

“You got better intel than that?”

“Kadee Matari is in on our watch-list, only…”

“Don’t tell me: you can’t find her to watch her?”

“You truly have a way with words, Ranger.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s called being direct. You should try it sometime.”

He chose to ignore my barb, lengthening his stride so I had to keep a quick pace to stay abreast with him.

We brushed past some dazed revelers trudging home by the bridge walkway.

“Hard night,” observed the Marshall.

“Or week,” I said. “Gilgul Street… can be hard to break free from once you’re there.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat. Disbelief or disapproval? Hard to know where the Marshall’s moral code truly lay.

I just kept on walking fast anyway.

Gilgul Street was just as I’d told him it would be
–
down to a trickle of pavement gawkers. Many of the street stalls were hooded or shuttered, and the neons, though switched on, were a dull, barely perceptible gleam in the glare of midday sunlight.

The bridge led directly into the intersection of Seer Parade and Gilgul, and I veered to the Seer side of the triangle. Though the music on the sidewalk changed at every premises we passed, the whining melody of spirit music seemed to underpin each tune. It made me sweat a little harder, and walk a little quicker.

Welcome to Mystere where you can meditate your way into madness.

While Gilgul was normally three deep in trinket and food hawkers, Seer Street was five deep in mystics and mediums. Corah had been smart locating her business on Gilgul Street. It set her apart from the rest
–
gave her visibility.

I wondered what had happened to her after the Diner opening. Last I’d seen her she’d been appreciating the Marshall’s testosterone display with the bouncer.

Why had she wanted to come to Chef’s opening anyway? That question still bugged the hell out of me.

Not quite as much, though, as the bombshell Nate Sixkiller had just shared with me - my dad and the Mythos and the secret service and… murder. That little sequence of notions set my guts on fire. I tried putting it out by asking about Corah.

“What happened to Corah the other night?” I asked casually.

“Your friend?”

“Corah is
not
my friend. She’s just someone I’ve known for a long time.”

“Like Ms Jenae?”

“No,” I corrected. “Caro is my friend.”

“I escorted your
acquaintance,
Corah, out for some supper.”

“W-what!” I spluttered.

“She seemed a mite upset so I found a place that served refreshments. The host had hustled you off and shut the restaurant. Nothing more to be done thet I could see.”

“You weren’t curious to find out whether I managed to locate Teng’s apartment? That’s why we went there as I recall.”

“Figured you’d had a rough night and might need some time.”

We walked on in silence until we reached the end of Seer Parade where it connected with Mason Way. Just before the intersection, I deviated into an alley way heading west and encountered a rusted metal gate. I gave the gate a shove and it opened, sliding along well-greased tracks.

“Gets some use,” said Sixkiller.

“By certain sorts.”

“So you located the apartment Teng was in?”he asked, following me.

I bit my lip to hold back showing my satisfaction. “Yeah. Got inside there too. Nothing really to show for it though, other than a near miss with the police. You were busy defending Corah’s honour I hear.”

“Damn fool cussed her out.”

“You should learn to let people fight their own battles, Marshall.”

“That’s where we’d be in some disagreement, Ranger. Not everyone can do that.”

I stopped just before the end of the alley. “Well let me tell you something, Corah isn’t one.

From the other end it looked like a blind alley, but from down here, there were thin gaps at the side of the wall that led into another narrow lane.

We squeezed through single file. The hidden lane was piled at one end with crates.

We walked towards them slowly. Halfway along I paused and turned to him. “From here on in, the rules change, Marshall. Trigger-happy could equal dead. You got me?”

He raised his hands, fingers wide in a gesture of placation. “Your place, your rules.”

I stared at him. Was he taking me seriously? His deadpan expression made it so hard to tell.

“Look,” I said in earnest. “I’m sure you’ve been in more than your share of rough places and no doubt handled some mean hombres. But to get by in this part of Divine Province, you need guile and a lot of luck. Not firepower.”

“You’ve been here a lot?”

“No. Once or twice only when I was following up leads on my dad’s death. But I’m native to this area of the city. I
get
the undertones.”

“I’ll follow your lead all the way, Virgin.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

Deep breath and I climbed over the loose barricade of pine crates into the area the locals called Moonee.