Foreboding Skies (The Skybreaker Saga Book 1) (10 page)

“We are heading to a formally abandoned warehouse. There is someone there we need to talk to.” I explained. Telling them the specifics was a prerequisite for not being handed over to the proper authorities. Neither one of my companions had been ecstatic when I informed them I abducted a man and held him in a warehouse for torture. At least Hemmingway begrudgingly acknowledged that I had good reasons for doing so. Apparently one of his side hobbies was trying to build a case against Downs. Consequently, he was familiar with the man’s vile nature. Gousie, however, was simmering. I had been increasingly convinced that Gousie was a stickler for the rules, but my expectations appeared to once again be off base. The fact that she hadn’t called in the Calvary was surprising, the fact she decided to come along was astonishing.

“What exactly gives you the authority to do this?” If I closed my eyes I could imagine that I was standing on a vast expanse of frozen tundra with a bitter wind gnawing its way to my bones. In reality I was sitting in the passenger seat with Gousie driving. I felt she was being unnecessary harsh.

“The collective will of the supernatural community and the ancient document called the Silence, a silence which I am currently breaking by telling you two this. It’s my job to monitor the barrier between this world and the Expanse, the spirit world, and ensure that it stays intact. Which is what I was doing in that neighborhood. I firmly believe that Downs was working for someone else to create a breach.”

Hemmingway volunteered the next question. “What happens if there is a breach? How serious can it be if spirits can’t interact with our world without someone like you? And how do your abilities even work?”

Ok. Time for a brief tutorial on Shamanism. “Spirits are fragments of creation, a raw spark. The same spark that every living creature has to some extent. The difference between people and spirits is that spirits are mostly timeless entities with no physical form to act out that spark and no freewill to drive them. They are intensely drawn to the doings humans through whom they can experience a part of our mortal world. They become the reflection of emotions, ideals, animals, forces of nature, and in rare cases, greatly revered objects. All things that humans put a great deal of stock in. It takes a significant amount of human focus for spirits to notice something and model themselves after it, a process unfolding over many millennia. It was why I won’t be stumbling across an internet spirit anytime soon.

The most common spirits are tied to emotions, the most basic emotions that most humans and even some animals feel. There are three pairs of emotions that counter each other, Anger against Love, Sadness versus Joy, and Fear grappling against Hope. Anger, Sadness, and Fear are reactionary predatory emotions that eradicate their opposites. Love, Joy, and Hope are gentle soothing emotions, they dissolve their opposites by undermining their legitimacy. Any Shaman can use all of them even without binding one because we are capable of feeling them, at least in theory.”

“What do you mean in theory?” At that moment I had to decide if the federal lady was suicidal or dauntless. She knew I wasn’t human. My wounds were quite literally healing in front of her eyes. Despite that the razor on her tongue failed to dull at all.

“You have to be able to fundamentally grasp the emotion to use it and some people can’t do that.”

“Sociopaths.”

“Sure, sure. But.”

“How many emotions can you ‘harness’ then?” I wanted to respect her as much as I wanted to throw her into a lake. A great deal on both accounts. And they were not mutually exclusive. I could throw people I respected into Lakes. Hemy was clearly interested as well. I hated shining a light on my faults, as most do. But, I asked myself if there was a point to lying as this stage. Yes, yes there was. I needed them to trust me, not doubt my sanity.

“All of them. I am a full-fledged Shaman for a reason. Now, may I continue?”

“You may.” I managed to restrain myself to a terse nod.

“After emotions come the forces of nature that man has feared and respected since his beginning. The whole earth, wind, water, fire etc. deal. A Shaman can only call upon the power of an elemental force if they have bound a spirit of that force.”

“Then the animals that man has enshrined in legend and even worshipped. Finally there are the fundamental spirits, those closest to the essence of creation, Life and Death. They are rare to see and impossible to bind. I don’t bother to classify spirits as good or evil. Such things are all about perspective, from my point of view. However, there should always be a mix of spirits, a balance between the various pairs in a populace. Just as with elemental power a Shaman can only use an animal spirit’s power if they have bound said spirit.”

“Now, let’s talk about what my job actually is. I am tasked with keeping the balance of spirits and ensuring a tear and or breach doesn’t form. When the balance is disrupted and one kind of spirit gains too much sway it could start to have serious consequences in the physical world. Think Ghostbusters minus all the marshmallow goo. Even normal people can feel an imbalance of spirits in extreme cases. Some places feel of incurable sorrow and fear, others of incalculable joy and hope. All of which are the symptoms of a serious disease. Oh yes, too much happy is just as bad as too much sad. Even after any damage to the fabric of reality is mended those places still feel strangely from the residue.”

“Let’s talk about tears and breaches. They technically have different meanings but are used interchangeably. They occur when the balance has been substantially disrupted that the fabric of reality is damaged and our world is exposed to the Expanse, the realm of spirits. A breach is more or less a doorway to the deep expanse which allows any nightmare lurking down there to peak through and say hello. The larger and longer the breach the worse things get. Attila the Hun and the Black Death were results of serious breaches.” 

“How were those things caused by breaches?” A valid question. Attila was only a man and the Black Death was just overzealous bacteria that got lucky right? Wrong.

“Attila was a hack shaman that got effectively possessed by a spirit that made him into a relentless charismatic killing machine. It fed off the terror created by Attila and his hordes. The Black Death received a boost from a spiritual entity that had no business roaming the Earth. The worst scenario would mean a complete apocalypse. Imagine Earth as a completely lifeless husk.”

“Then why in the name of God is someone trying to cause a breach or tear? And if it is such a catastrophe waiting to happen then why isn’t there anyone here to help you?” I picked up the small but growing edge of panic in Hemmingway’s voice. I always wondered what it would take to rattle the man. Turns out it took the minor threat of complete global extinction.

It never occurred to me what it would be like to council humans on this shit. For me this was conversation held the weight of talking about the weather or traffic or some other mundane topic that was simply second nature. To these two, it was a radical upheaval of their world. Their entire perception of reality was getting a swift kick in the teeth.

Science confirmed for humans that old stories of magic and monsters were in fact only stories. Stories that were told by people who did not understand how the world worked and invented mystical forces to explain what nothing else could. But that was centuries ago and today humanity lived comfortably in the knowledge that it had conquered the archaic fears of their ancestors and established firmly their control over the world. Being told that humans were near the bottom of numerous intelligent and powerful species was a shock. They had to be feeling overwhelmed, and that feeling would only grow the more they saw, if they lived long enough to see much of anything. That was still weighing on my mind. If discovered I would be executed and their memories of the supernatural would be removed. By force.

My main worry for them concerned my adversaries. I doubted they would follow the standard operating procedure and leave them alive with a bit of amnesia. Lucy Gousie and Joseph Hemmingway were law enforcement officers. They had already come to terms with the fact they may die doing their duty, same as me. That didn’t really make me feel any better about bringing them into this. Here I was being stupid again. They were already involved. I didn’t really bring them into anything. Hell, they were both part of units tasked with investigating the supernatural. My nagging headache stubbornly refused to go away.

We finally arrived at our destination. I hadn’t answered Hemmingway’s questions because I wasn’t sure of the answers myself. And it wouldn’t sound too good if I admitted my pride may have been wounded and demanded I handled this myself. Anyway, I needed to put my game face on. The area was deserted except for the homeless man pushing a rusty shopping cart filled with what appeared to be plastic dolls. Classic Detroit. The warehouse we rolled to a stop in front of looked nothing like the one I dropped Downs off at on Monday. Alewyn had a lot of connections, including several Fae who loved any kind of artistic work. Even if that work was giving a decrepit warehouse a facelift. The inside would be better yet.

“Well? I would assume that you have keys to this door. Right?” An assumption that is both safe and wrong. I wasn’t going to say that though. I still got the distinct impression that Gousie could go even more rogue and make a full circle back to doing things by the book. I was still keeping a close eye and ear on her. I wasn’t exactly sure what I would do if she did try to call in the cavalry. 

The door was now a respectable obstacle for any would be intruders. Thick, metal, and with several impressive looking locking mechanisms. Locks that would not open for the one key I had. Oh well, I would have to tell Alewyn to bill me for the door. It was the wards on the door that cost the most and would be a much more difficult obstacle than the door itself. 

              The wards were well above standard grade. My guess, anyone who tried to force the door open would have their base matter redistributed across several blocks. My skill set did not include dismantling high level wards. Or so I thought. At my touch the wards bulged out, like they were being sucked up by a magical vacuum cleaner.

Huh, maybe Alewyn designed it to recognize me and let me pass. In a matter of seconds the wards were gone and the door was just a door. A door that went flying back into the warehouse from my kick. Had I always been that strong? I usually needed to drink up a good amount of spirits before I could power through a security door. No time for such considerations I reminded myself. We were in a hurry. I wondered when my dynamic duo would be missed by their superiors. Maybe we were already out of time.

              The interior, though still grungy, at least looked somewhat respectable. There were now row upon row of mostly empty industrial size racks. Through them I could see that a small room had been erected in the back corner. Large enough to serve as an office, or prison, for an important person. It was even more heavily warded than the door.

There wasn’t anyone guarding Downs. But with wards this strong it would be redundant. Hemmingway and Gousie followed me silently past the skeletal rows of shelving units. As with the outer door I simply pressed my hand against the office door and the wards came racing in. These took longer. I suppose that meant they were stronger. I would have to ask Alewyn how he created wards like that. 

“What are you doing Smith? Is Downs in there?” She sounded nervous.

“Indeed he is Gousie, indeed he is.” The moment I opened that door I was reminded that whatever we do or however well we plan fate is still a cruel, cruel bitch. A sword immediately flashed down toward my head as I stepped inside. My response was immediate. I pivoted and caught the wrist of the sword swinger and gave it a harsh twist, forcing the blade from his hands. I began to wonder how in the hell Downs had gotten a sword when what my eyes were seeing punched my brain. An inhumanly slender form with nigh florescent golden hair covered in blood and bruises. It was Alewyn the way I was used to seeing him, without his glamour.

“Alewyn? What are you doing here? Where is Downs?” My mind took off like a formula one racecar. Alewyn was here, here! Downs was not, he just wasn’t. Alewyn, he was alive but didn’t seem like he would stay that way much longer.

“Dragomir! Thank every last god it’s you! And I’m fine by the way.” I sincerely doubted he was fine. At the sight of the bloody man Hemmy and Gousie drew their guns. Hemmy moved past me and began checking the small room. Gousie positioned herself by the door and looked ready to shoot the first thing that moved. The feeling was growing on me as well. I feared we were going to be the recipients of an unpleasant reception.

I tried to calm myself and think through what must have happened. If Alewyn was here and injured it meant that Downs’s friends attacked him. Alewyn used the wards to keep them out…How had they gotten past the wards to begin with? Regardless, they would be watching this location. Someone was bound to check in on Downs eventually, and that someone would most likely be me. It made sense that there would be a trap waiting.

Well. What could I say? I had been outwitted at nearly every turn. I still didn’t know who was against me. And the icing on my shit cake? I managed to get a few good people killed by bringing them into this fight. Fuck it. I was literally unable to muster any kind of fear or even basic concern. Now I wanted things to die. That was my solution to the situation.

“Lucy.” She snapped her gaze over to me with a wary surprise. “You and Hemmingway need to get out of here. Now. I will try to kill as many of them as a can.”