Into the Shadows (14 page)

I shook my head. "No, sorry, I can't do that.
The last part is appealing, even though I don't know how in hell
you're going to make me forget all this shit. And if I do forget, I
won't know about the target on my ass. Not only that, but I can't
have you doing nothing else than watching my back."

"Very well; I understand your reasoning and I
thank you for the consideration on my behalf, Leo. Your second
option is to relocate, and not anywhere nearby. I can make funds
available for you to start over and will continue to keep an eye
open for your safety. I must keep my oath. Again, if you choose,
your memories can be altered. It would be a fresh start with no
complications."

"It would be running away," I replied
quickly. "I'm not big on running away."

"You would not even realize that."

"The problem is," I said with a sigh, "I know
it right now. This is my hometown. I have friends here. And I'll be
damned if I'm going to let some golden-eyed bitch run me out. Then
again, if you forced that choice on me, I'm sure I'd be fine."

Viggo scowled in offense; I felt my bowels
loosen. "I would never do that," he said.

"Exactly; one way or another, one of us
couldn't live with that option."

"That leaves only one other way to go." Viggo
sat back and crossed his arms. "You could choose to become my
minion."

I resisted the urge to mirror his pose. "Why
don't you sound happy about that?"

"Because, you would have to immerse yourself
into my world to some degree; your situation would demand it.
Instead of options where you might choose to have certain memories
altered or removed, in this case you would need to know more about
us to ensure your survival."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that, if you were in danger or
being pursued, it would be good to have resources available. We
have safe locations throughout the city, points of access to our
underground facilities, and a long list of helpful contacts. We
Deviants have infiltrated far deeper into this city's
infrastructure than the other factions realize. It would be in your
best interest to know a few things, at least."

"You have underground facilities?"

Viggo nodded. "Sewer complexes, expanded cave
networks, and hidden passages into the lower levels of many
structures. That aside, there is a more personally relevant matter
to consider if you choose to be my minion. Not to be boastful, but
my blood is more potent than the Doyenne's. You might have felt a
surge in strength or resilience after she fed you her blood a third
time. With my blood, only one drink is needed to secure your
fealty. What's more, your physical attributes will be greater than
what you gained from Emmeline Le Meur's blood."

"So you're saying I'd be more self-reliant,
right? And maybe, if it was known that I was your minion, they
might not be so eager to take a shot at me."

"I still want to keep my presence in the city
to be undisclosed. However, there is another Deviant that we could
imply you are the minion of for now. The upper ranks of each
faction know that she is quite old, but is overlooked because of
her lifestyle. I think that would discourage others from
approaching you." Viggo paused and leaned forward again. "Are you
sure this is what you want, Leopold?"

I shrugged. "For lack of better options . . .
yeah, it is. I mean, I mostly get my life back, right? I'm there if
or when you need me, which I sort of would be anyway since I feel
like I owe you. And, there are some benefits to it. So, I'm all in,
as long as you promise me two things, Viggo."

"If I can, I will," he said.

"One, that I won't just be your slave like I
was with Le Meur, and two, that you tell your people that my name
is just Leo, okay?"

One side of Viggo's mouth twitched; I think
that was as close to a smile as I was going to get. "A promise
made, Leo Beck." He leaned further over the table and extended his
hand. I took it.

GOBLET

Viggo asked Natalie to drive me home, told me
he'd meet me there, and then excused himself again. I didn't have a
coat, but the heater in Natalie's compact car worked well. During
the drive, while I gave directions to my place, I asked her a few
questions about being 'employed' for Viggo.

Natalie told me she'd been loyal to the big
guy for about nine years so far. Before that, she considered
herself nearly meaningless; unmarried, no kids, few friends, and
her only worthwhile offering to society was volunteering at a
homeless shelter. Even her job kept her semi-isolated. Natalie
worked second shift at the IRS branch in town as a clerk supervisor
in her own little office that was tucked away on a lower level.
That's where Viggo found her at the end of a shift. He said that
her access to certain information made her valuable and important
to him. Working for Viggo, she no longer felt insignificant.

Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up in front
of my house, Damn, I never realized how much I missed my little
place until I saw it again. I grabbed the bag full of my stuff,
including the photo of Al, and thanked Natalie both for the meal
and the ride. I fished my keys out of the bag and entered my house.
I expected it to be dark inside, but a light back in the kitchen
was on. I didn't know what to expect, so I pulled my Ruger out and
quietly moved forward.

I crouched low and spun into the entryway of
my kitchen. Viggo was standing at the counter, pulling a bottle of
Jack Daniels down from a cabinet shelf. "Fuck," I grunted with a
deep exhale; I lowered my gun and slumped against the wall.

"I thought I would add a familiar flavor for
you," he said, completely unconcerned that I almost shot him. On
the countertop in front of Viggo was an iron-bound container about
the size of a shoebox. "I have done it for minions in the past who
favored certain tastes." He set down the bottle and looked at me.
"Come over here, Leo. I have something for you to see."

I stood, set the Ruger on top of the fridge,
and stepped closer. "You must have been speeding like hell to get
here so fast," I commented while eyeing the container Viggo was
resting a hand on. "Natalie doesn't exactly pay attention to speed
limits, so how'd you beat me here? I didn't see any strange cars
with smoking tires parked out on the street."

"Soon enough, I will show you how I arrived
so quickly," he said hastily. "Right now, there is a tradition to
be followed." He opened the hinged lid that revealed a fancy cup of
dark metal that rested in a fitting of black velvet. "This goblet
has been used for the rite of passage for nearly all of my minions,
past and present." His voice was almost reverent. "It is tradition
going back centuries."

"Well then, I hope like hell you washed
it."

Viggo gave me a long look; I couldn't tell if
he was going to crack a smile or crack my skull. He decided on
neither. "More than this being a ceremonial treasure, there is
something else about this goblet that you might find quite
interesting, Leo: it was made for me by one of your long-departed
ancestors."

"One of
my
ancestors made that? No
shit? Who was he?"

Viggo lifted the goblet to let the light over
the stove show all the detailed scrollwork on it. "His name was
Erlingr; he was an artisan. On a summer night in the year 621 A.D.,
a large band of Saxons attacked his village. I saved him and
rescued his family. In return, he forged this for me."

I did some quick math in my head - not my
best subject in school. "Are you telling me that thing is nearly
fourteen fucking hundred years old?"

"And one of my oldest treasures," Viggo said
as he set it on the counter. He then pulled a short but sturdy
steel knife from inside his coat. Holding it to the palm of his
left hand, he looked at me. "I offer this freely," he stated
solemnly, and then dug the blade into the hard, cracked leather
flesh of his palm. Viggo moved his hand over the goblet as black
blood flowed out in a thin stream. I just stood and watched with a
weird fascination as a third of the goblet was filled. He closed
his hand into a fist and held it there for a few silent seconds.
When the hand opened, the wound was gone, just . . . gone.

"You should know," Viggo commented while he
opened my bottle of liquor and poured in about a shot's worth,
"that the taste of my blood should differ greatly from the
Doyenne's. The natures and Gifts come through in the flavor, so I
imagine that her essence was rather captivating, yes?" He picked
the goblet back up, swirled it once, and then held it out.

"Yeah," I replied, "it was like honey and
fruit and passion all at once." I took the offered goblet of my
ancestor with both hands, holding it firmly so I didn't drop the
damn thing. I doubt Viggo would have been too happy that I let a
priceless relic with his blood in it bounce on my kitchen
floor.

"Leopold Beck," he said with formality, "if
you freely choose loyalty to me, drain the goblet."

It took a couple gulps, but I downed the
drink. It was fucking
strong
, like moonshine but without the
bite. It slid over my tongue like a smooth, warming liqueur. Acidic
and sweet at the same time, Viggo's blood made me imagine old books
and scrolled maps, dark corridors and starlit nights. Unlike Le
Meur's blood, which filled me with duty and yearning, I felt like I
almost literally swelled with the righteousness of serving Viggo.
I'd never felt a truer conviction, and was proud that he asked me
to join him for any noble cause he might've had. I had just been
invited into a world I knew next to nothing about; the mystery of
it had me pumped.

After I handed the goblet back, Viggo put a
hand on my shoulder. "Welcome into the fold, Leo. By power of the
bond, I know you will be loyal, fair, and true. In return, I swear
to honor your fealty with those very same virtues. I am pleased to
have you affiliated with my people. If you choose, you may continue
to call me Viggo. That is the name I was given at my human birth. I
became a warrior of my people, a tribe in early medieval times. I
am known by my given name to only a small, trusted group. To the
rest who have heard of me or my deeds, I am simplistically
identified only as a member of my long-gone tribe - 'the
Veleti'."

STRENGTH

While Viggo cleaned the goblet, I asked if I
could speak plainly. He nodded his consent. I told him that I'd
heard that title,
the Veleti
, before; first from some bat
shit-crazy homeless guy, and again when the Doyenne asked me about
it. He told me that the crazy dude was actually another Deviant
named Harlan whose ramblings rarely held any foresight. Any rumors
started by him were at best unreliable, so Le Meur probably
dismissed them. That led me to wonder what sort of reputation Viggo
had that would make her concerned. That question might've offended
him somehow, so I kept my mouth shut.

Viggo told me he had some errands to attend
to. Before I thought about it, I asked if he needed me to help. He
thanked me for the offer, but said I should "return from my
travels" and put any worried minds to rest. That was a good plan,
but my Adept minion tutor did a shitty job and I still had so many
questions. He said that he'd have one of his other minions contact
me in a couple days, one who could provide some answers. Okay, I
told myself, no more forgetting my phone.

Viggo then said he'd visit again soon and
handed me a business card from his coat pocket. It only had a
company name,
'ShadoWorks, LLC'
on it, and a toll-free
number underneath. He said I could reach him at that number if I
needed anything until we met again. That was also the number that
would show on my caller ID whenever he might call me for a task.
Viggo reminded me with a straight face - as if he had another -
that I should expect to leave a message if I called during the
day.

I didn't want him to leave. I wanted to know
more about him. I mean, shit, I couldn't even imagine the stories a
being like Viggo the Veleti had to tell, but I wanted to hear them
all. Still, I got the feeling that he wanted me to be self-reliant
and not just his errand boy. I wanted to prove him right and make
him proud, so I didn't make any requests for his continued company.
It was harder to do than it sounded.

As he'd done before, Viggo disappeared. He
went out the back door, stepped out of sight into the darkness, and
was gone. It wasn't unnerving anymore; it was magic. For a while, I
thought about how my perspective had changed. That led to new
questions, so I found a notepad and started making a list. After
that, I cleaned up and dressed in my own comfortable clothes. It
was too late to let my neighbors know I was back home, but not so
for Keegan's. And, damn, did I need a drink.

As I was grabbing my coat, I realized I
didn't even know what the damn day or date was; my phone showed it
was a Saturday, the 1st of March. I was locked away for a total of
only four weeks or so, but it felt like a fucking eternity. On my
short drive to the club, I realized all the little things I missed;
my car, the radio, streetlights, and all the other common shit
you'd take for granted. It's wasn't like I was all starry-eyed at
the sight of bare trees and neon signs or anything; I think it was
just the rush of freedom.

I could hear the music from some cover band
playing at Keegan's from half a block away. Steroid Mac greeted me
with a smile and let me right in. The place was packed. The strong,
familiar smells of spilt beer and cigarettes met me when I walked
in the place. It wasn't just my nose that was on alert; all of my
senses seemed very sharp and clear.

Only a few steps in, I was attacked by Tanya.
She'd set her drink tray down on the nearest table full of patrons
to give me a smothering hug. She told me she liked my beard, and
then gave me the type of kiss that told me she was between
boyfriends again. I saw Keeg at the far end of the bar. He gave me
a manly hug and a handshake, and then had Sherrie pour me a drink.
It was too loud to talk at the time, but we caught up when the band
went on break. It was nice to be missed.