Foreboding Skies (The Skybreaker Saga Book 1) (6 page)

Detroit is a mob den without a doubt. It may not have the same standing as other American cities, but it is indeed a mafia snuggery. The particular mob that ran Detroit just happened to be comprised of Vampires. Who, by the way, were the models for Mafioso everywhere. There’s the elderly leader who commands absolute obedience from his followers, the making of offers that can’t be refused, and the dressing in ridiculously expensive suits every single day. All are things the Vampires have been doing since long before Pacino took over the family business.

And now Detroit’s Godfather wanted to have a few stern words with me. Vladimir Rurik, or Demetri Adamski as he was known to the world, was one of the many bastard sons of the Varangian prince Rurik who founded Russia’s first imperial dynasty in 862. He was also one of the seven Vampire Lords who ruled the all of the Vampires. To even be eligible you needed at least one thousand years under your belt and pack serious power. Vladimir was the one of the youngest at around twelve hundred years of age.

Vlad’s territory included the entirety of the United States west of the Mississippi along with large portions of Canada and Mexico. He carved his sprawling empire hundreds of years ago when the new world was first discovered. At the time the other Vampires were too concerned with Europe and Asia to care. Before the Lords noticed how rich the land was in both material and people Vlad dug himself in deeply and made alliances with several werewolf packs and Fae monarchies. Even the Lords were reluctant to wage a war to dislodge him. Though he did partition the east coast amongst the other Lords as a sign of respect and peace he still kept most of his initial claim.

Normally the Vampire who turned him or one of the Lords would have simply used their mojo to usurp his will and force him to do as he was told. But Vladimir was a special case. He had been a powerful mage before being turned and the subsequent consequences of that convinced the Vampire world to enforce the ban on turning anyone that wasn’t strictly human. Combining the power of a mage with that of a Vampire gave him strength beyond what a Vampire his age should have wielded. In the end he got to keep most of the territory he claimed, as long as he swore not to rebel and pay the seven their due. Upon reaching one thousand years of age he was inducted as the seventh lord.

All that was ancient history. For today he was the guy who would grill me over my recent antics. Owing to their extreme sexiness and mind control abilities Vampires were usually the ones tasked with keeping the humans out of the Community’s collective hair. When a mess was made it was his job to bury it deep. He was not going to be happy with me making his job even more arduous than usual.

I wore a basic disguise consisting of a blond wig and stuck on facial hair of the same color. I walked a convoluted maze through Detroit’s streets to lose any tales. I was able to spot a few, chief among them was a plucky Asian women. Vlad would be extra pissed if I allowed followed to his place of business. Said place of business was an extremely upscale office building in Detroit’s central business district. A towering glass monstrosity that implied the man who constructed it was compensating for something.

I would keep that observation to myself, men, especially Vampire men, wouldn’t take kindly to the implication. I would save it for later. I snuck in a hidden entrance behind the building in a small park that was constructed for the employees of the surrounding businesses. It was deserted now save for a few haggard looking business folk chugging their coffee. The sun was hanging low on the horizon. Vlad would probably be cranky because it was past his bedtime. I would also keep that to myself.

              I strolled in the back door into the back of a giant and posh lobby. All the hallmarks of a company with too much money to spend were on display, a giant fountain, dramatic sculptures, a shiny marble floor, and security from several Special Forces outfits enjoying a job both boring and high paying. The security people were under standing orders to leave me alone. They may have been a little scared of me, no telling who or what their boss met with. With my mood being what it was I wouldn’t have minded if any of them wanted to get in my face, but alas, no takers. I didn’t like how messy the situation was and a night of haunting visions and dead ends failed to improve my mood. And my lung was still hurting. All my other wounds from yesterday’s fight finished healing overnight.

I crossed the lobby and hit the up button, despite having a dozen elevators it still took minutes for one to arrive. This was standard practice for the high and mighty, make people come in early for them to wait to be seen. I bet the smug bloodsucker slowed the elevators down and cranked the elevator music. I now believe it is a requirement that all elevators play terrible music. Surely there is less annoying music that could be played in elevators. Perhaps it was a business tactic. Use terrible music to break down the will of your enemies on their way to the fiftieth floor. Vladimir was old school like that and wouldn’t object to some enhanced business techniques. 

              Finally I stepped out onto the top floor. It was more penthouse suite than office. There was a lounge area complete with several Samovars, which is a fancy word for coffee robot. The chairs looked expensive enough to feed the entire city’s homeless population and the receptionist was fresh off a Paris runway. All in all Vladimir Rurik didn’t tolerate half measures.

              The secretary gave me a beautifully fanged smile and directed me to wait in one of the chairs. Naturally I walked past her desk toward the stately doors leading to the room that led to Vlad’s office. The inner waiting room was straight out of a medieval castle and the doors to his office were castle gates in miniature. The walls held paintings of Vladimir from several centuries long since passed. This was his real office. The one where he conducted more mundane human matters was on a higher floor.

This room was also where the true gatekeeper was, and anyone who made it this far by force would typically find a horrible death. I didn’t know his name, as far as I knew only Vladimir did. Every one of the Lords was accompanied by a shadow warrior that nearly rivaled them in power and whose loyalty was absolute. I’ve never fought one and didn’t want to. I also didn’t want to put up with the usual shit and felt like pushing my luck. My visions left me feeling provoked and abandoned like usual.

              He looked at me the same way you would look at an annoying insect that had slipped past the door and was buzzing around inside. “I have a hectic schedule today and I know damn well that he is sitting in there sipping some O Negative and watching cat videos.” Vampires and cats get along famously. It was probably a mutual appreciation of each other’s evil. The secretary possessed the good sense to close the doors and retreat back to her desk. Mr. Shadow may have been amused by my rapier like wit, or angry, or sad, I couldn’t read the man at all and no spirits were around to help. After a silence just long enough to be awkward he nodded to an unseen signal and opened the doors to the inner office. He executed a perfectly respectful bow and stepped back to usher me through.

              Vladimir kept his mahogany hair cut short. He kept himself clean shaven and well-dressed at all times. I dropped myself into a luxurious leather monstrosity stiched together from a dozen cows and we waited for me to speak. I knew that nothing I did would cause him to speak first when he was annoyed with me. He was determined to set the pace. Fine with me, I pulled out the joint that I kept tucked in my ear and lit up.

              A modern misconception about Shamanism is that it is necessary to use mind altering drugs. Any real Shaman didn’t need any drugs to connect with spirits, we never stopped being connected. It was only the hacks and wannabes that needed to. I did mind altering drugs because they were fun. As a potential role model I fully endorse weed. Finally he turned toward me and fixed me with his best reproaching stare.

              “This is a smoke free environment.” I could only describe his voice as an iron fist in a velvet glove snaking into my ear. It was an apt description of the man himself, he could be as hard of soft as the situation required. I was surprised that he acknowledged me so promptly.

              “Oh? You’re not planning to blow any up my ass? And that only applies to tobacco. This isn’t tobacco.” Checkmate me.              “I am well aware that it’s not tobacco. Marijuana is still illegal is it not?” I could hear the disapproval. He disliked anything that clouded the mind and dulled the body. His eyes were still glued to his screen. He probably was watching cat videos. I kept an eye out for the furry little devil he adopted recently. He was actually the largest funder for animal shelters in the city. Anonymously of course, he did have a reputation to maintain. 

              “Pffff, barely. Give it a few more years and it won’t be anymore.” People should hope it became legal, if not America’s prisons were going to continue to fill up and break the bank. People certainly weren’t going to stop toking. One of the many reasons I disliked authority, it was often incredibly stupid and resistant to changes that were obviously needed.

              “I have noticed you have a startling habit of blatantly ignoring any rules you find inconvenient Dragomir. For example….” He flipped on the massive plasma screen TV that took up most of one wall. A pretty news lady was urging the public to stay calm and cooperate with the official investigation into the most recent terrorist attack. The authorities were in the process of rounding up more suspects and would soon find the mastermind. I wished for as much optimism as the human authorities seemed to have.

              “Terrorism? That really is uninspired you know. How about a more creative story?”

“Oh, you mean like an egotistical Shaman wreaks havoc in the middle of one of America’s largest cities?” He let his anger show now. I admit to being intimidated. The Lords were a force that could shake the world and I was sitting across from a being that had shaken them.

I spent the next twenty minutes telling him what went down or risk him beating my ass. He listened with a grim silence. As a bonus I tossed in my thoughts on the situation. I also forked over the prints and DNA from the werewolf. He copied the prints and scooped out the brain matter while thinking over what I said. “In summary you once again rushed head long into a situation and suffered for it? This reminds me of the first time we met. As I recall you created quite riot then as well.”  Bastard, he always enjoyed bringing that up. It was my first action as an independent Shaman and, while I completed my task, it was significantly more difficult than advertised. “You think someone was intentionally trying to create a breach? Why?”

              “I don’t know, but it fits. Downs gets a lot of supernatural protection and orders to decimate the place until a breach forms. The cops were helping him, at least some were. From what Downs said it sounded like one of them wanted out… his finger bone was used to make one of the talismans. It would be useful to figure out who said cop is, or rather was. Speaking of annoying authority, I would really appreciate it if you could get the Feds to back off. Specifically Sophia Jones. Who is she?”

              “It isn’t that simple. The world has changed, humanity has changed. In the old days an incident could be isolated and covered up.” I knew that for him the old days were centuries past. “Millions have already seen this and the news was all over the world in under an hour. The massive Western intelligence apparatus has already swung into motion. Even I have difficulty penetrating it. It will certainly take to me to dig up any significant information on this Sophia Jones, certainly not her real name. I will do what I can. You will have to learn to live with federal agents dogging you. As to whoever was behind Downs, well I can set up a meeting with someone from the Conclave.”

              “Will it be that easy? They always move at their own pace.” I said a little more harshly than intended. They were a stuffy organization that I never cared for. Steeped in a sickening amount of tradition and bureaucracy fast action from them was inconceivable. 

              “You forget I am still technically a Mage, just one that happens to be a Vampire as well. They have already contacted me. It seems they arrived at the same conclusion that you did and want to find out if one of their own was involved. They will send a representative to meet with you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Really? That is unusually prompt.” It was a relief that the Conclave was moving swiftly for a change even if it compounded my busy schedule. The Wiccans would be meeting with me today and the Werewolves would promptly send someone as well. It was eight-thirty. The Wiccans were scheduled to come at nine-thirty. There should be enough time to manage both meetings smoothly. 

“This is starting to sound like a bad joke. A witch, a mage, and a werewolf walk into a Shaman’s apartment and everybody dies. Classic.” I really was feeling hostile. It didn’t help that I barely remembered the visions once I came out of a meditative state. I was simply left with vague feelings of unease. There was also my breathing problem. But I didn’t want to bring that up now. Vladimir looked concerned enough for me as it was. He was the only person I told about the visions, not even Alewyn knew. The circumstances surrounding that event were far too complex.

“Do you remember anything concrete? A name, a place, or even a face?” He insisted he could help me figure it out. I never Ok’d that, but he was even more used to getting his way than I was. I would never, ever admit I felt some comfort at sharing something of my twisted life with another person. We had made a surprising amount of leeway into the issue, if we were measuring our progress with snail speed.