Into the Shadows (25 page)

"Okay, that makes sense," I said with a nod.
For most of the deviants I'd met so far, they'd have a tough time
looking like they did and going to a concert or hitting the bars.
That is, unless they wanted to make people simultaneously scream
and shit their pants. All except for Pedro, though - I wasn't sure
about him. Most of the time he looked like a regular guy, except
when he knocked me out with chloroform. For a second when he was on
my back, he looked like a red-faced demon. Oh, and that girl Clara
looked normal too, but maybe her disfigurement was mental.

"The initial abilities of that Gift," Viggo
explained, "begin with going unnoticed, using darkness, blending
into the background. Progressing abilities include creating an aura
of illusion to mask one's true form and appearance."

"Yes sir, I wondered about that. Does Pedro -
uh, Mr. Viera - does he have that ability?"

"Quite so; he is fairly proficient with it.
Mr. Viera's most common guise is of that of a young Hispanic man,
although he occasionally takes one or two other convincing, forms.
Now, to continue," Viggo said after a moment's pause. He gently
grabbed my arm and made me point the flashlight at the wall right
next to us. "Extensive use of the Gift of Shadows - far beyond
simply hiding or using illusive guises - has led me to an ability
that I refer to as a permanent cloak. Look at the wall, feel
it."

It looked like the same ugly wall I'd been
walking next to for the last ten minutes - splotchy gray cement
with a thin crack here and there. My palm felt what I expected;
cool, clammy, sort of slick. "Is there something I'm not seeing,
sir?"

"It is what you
are
seeing that makes
my point, Leo. There is no wall here. I've created a strong
illusion to fool the mind, to make you see and feel what should be
there."

"Then you did one hell of a job, sir," I said
as I touched the wall again. He must've had some Jedi mind trick
working overtime, because even the thin beam from the flashlight
showed a wall in front of me.

"Imagine it to be a wall of static fog . . ."
Viggo said while he moved his hand in front of the light. Then,
slowly, he slid his hand and forearm
through
the wall
without any resistance. It was one the few times in my life that I
was speechless. "Imagine, Leo," he said low and solemnly. "The wall
is a curtain of devious air. There is no wall. Fix that in your
mind . . . and step through."

I wanted to obey, but I didn't want to go
face-first into cement and look like a fucking moron. I guess Viggo
got impatient with my hesitation; he put his hand on my back and
shoved. I stumbled forward a few steps into space that wasn't
there. Holy shit, that permanent cloak trick was awesome!

I spun the light around, seeing I was in
another alcove. There were no rungs up to the street, though; only
a narrow descending stairway. It was roughly carved, cut into the
natural bedrock. Just standing in front of it, the air felt cooler.
That stairwell didn't look inviting, though. I felt like something
was waiting for me down there in the dark.

Viggo moved me aside and began descending the
stone stairs. He paused for a second and said, "Try not to lose
your footing. If you're prone when the rats come upon you, they'll
likely think you're a meal."

That sure as hell got my attention. I was
never less than two steps behind him on the way down. At the base
of the stairs was a hallway cut through rock. It curved to the left
and ended at a metal door, like a hatch you'd see in a submarine.
The rats had gathered behind me and waited again - fuckin' things
gave me the shivers. Viggo cranked at the locking wheel; it looked
like he had to put some muscle into it. He pushed the door open and
then turned to me and said, "Welcome to a Deviant den."

DEN

I stepped through the doorway, and it felt
like I stepped on carpet. Viggo flicked a switch next to the door;
subdued lighting lit what appeared to be a cavernous room. It had a
fifteen foot stone ceiling that dipped at the far end, where there
was another metal door. The whole place was sort of egg-shaped; we
came in on the wide end. The floor was mainly level but the walls
were rough, like a cave's would be.

Then I noticed everything else. Hell, it was
like a big studio apartment. Resting on some of the many area rugs,
two full sets of matching leather furniture sat in a semicircle
facing a wide entertainment center. It held TVs, DVD and CD
players, big speakers, and a shitload of movie and music cases.
Next to all that was a desk big enough to have a PC, printer, fax,
and an old telegraph machine sitting on it with room to spare.
Wiring ran throughout the den, secured with clamps along the walls
and ending at power strips. All sorts of shit were plugged in: wall
and table lamps, ceiling fans, digital clocks, you name it.

Sitting back in a recess off to my right was
a large bed, with bookshelves on either side. "No coffin for you,
sir?" I asked lightheartedly, trying to get rid of my own
tension.

"Not since the late 1800s," Viggo replied as
he waited at the door while his horde of rats flowed in, "when the
box spring was invented." I stood still as the rats swarmed around
my feet and into the room. Viggo finally shut the door and then
knelt down in front of one lingering rat. He picked up the
oversized disease-carrier and stared at it a few seconds before
setting it back down. The rat ran over to a small crevice where a
wall met the floor and crawled in. On its heels was the rest of the
horde, disappearing one by one. It took a minute until they were
all gone.

Still standing in place, I asked, "If I may,
sir . . . What the hell just happened?"

Viggo walked past me toward the far side of
the den while he answered. "I've sent them on a mission to cause
irritating damage to a particular daemon's abode - chewing through
power cables, ruining the plumbing, that sort of thing. She is due
some frustration."

"If someone pissed you off, sir, I'd be happy
to pay her a daytime visit."

He stopped in front of a table and pulled out
a familiar box, the one with my ancestor's cup in it. "The day may
come when I request that, but not for now." Using the same steel
blade that he cut himself with in my kitchen a couple weeks before,
Viggo filled the cup half full with his black blood. "Take a seat,
Leo." As I relaxed into a soft leather chair, he came over and
handed me the cup. "Another drink of my essence isn't needed just
yet," he said as he sat in a nearby chair, "but it will strengthen
your bond nonetheless. Now, tell me of your concerns."

I told him about my latest meeting with Ragna
while I drank, and how she went all 'dark side' on me. "Sir, I've
killed the enemy while in the Marines. As a civilian, I've killed
aggressors in defense of others and myself. But I don't think it's
a part of who I am, and I sure as hell don't get a kick out of it.
And you, sir, you're my commander; if you told me to go kill
someone, I'd know there was a good reason for the order and I'd do
it. Ragna, though . . . She wants me to go burn some hemo to death
just because she's got bugs in her brain. I simply can't go commit
murder on a whim."

Viggo thought for a second before he said,
"Ragna unfortunately does have triggers. Cults, misguided as they
may be, are one of them. I realize that it seems somewhat
hypocritical when she herself adheres to the beliefs of the Norse
pantheon, itself now a paltry and outdated religion. Still, I need
you to continue the ruse of being her minion. I'm told you are to
be in the employ of the Outsider's Mr. Fletcher; that might place
you in a position to gather good information for me."

"Yes sir, but what about -"

"Edward Galloway is far from innocent, Leo.
Less than twenty years ago, he had other deific delusions, and
gathered a small flock of weak-minded followers. Something angered
him one night at a gathering, and he slaughtered them all. I can
see a certain justice in what Ragna demands, but I also know that
you are not cold-blooded. Do what Ragna ordered; I will have a
deterrent in place that she cannot fault you for. My safeguard will
not be permanent, however, so Mr. Galloway is on borrowed
time."

I breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Thank you,
sir."

The telegraph machine started chattering and
rolling out a ticker tape. Viggo went over and began reading it; a
deep scowl formed on his face, deepening the cracks in his pale
skin. Okay, bad news.

He turned to me and said, "Unfortunately, it
is time for you to depart, Leo. I would suggest that you returned
from where we arrived, in the alcove under the manhole cover, and
then climb out and make your own way home. However, that would not
be a safe option for you at this time."

"Not safe? Why?"

Something suddenly hit the iron door we came
in through, hit it hard enough that rock dust lifted and settled
around its stone frame while the echo of impact bounced around the
cave. I sprang to my feet with my Glock in my hand. "What the
fuck!" I blurted.

"
That
is why," Viggo calmly answered.
He stepped next to me with his arm around my shoulders. "I'll
return you to your property, and then deal with this nuisance."

"But, I could help . . ."

Viggo shook his head. "This is my burden, my
chore. Fear not, Leo, I am in no danger, but
you
would be if
you stayed. Let us go."

For the first time, I didn't mind
void-walking if it got me the hell out of there.

INTERVENTION

Once Viggo and I returned to my patio - and I
was able to gather my wits - I asked him to wait a second for one
other quick topic. "I, uh, know that most elders who've been around
a long time eventually want to take a long break from it all. From
what I've been told, sir, you're long overdue. And I know why. I
don't want you to go away, but that oath you made to watch over my
line has kept you from doing just that. If I'm the last one holding
you here, then I - I don't . . . Shit, I feel like a fucking
burden! If it's up to me, then I release you from that oath. You
can stop. I won't have kids. I'll get a vasectomy. I'll -"

"Leo," Viggo said, putting a hand on my
shoulder, "I appreciate the sentiment, but the oath is not yours to
negate. My freedom is not in your hands, although it is tied to
you. A time will come when I will finally take respite, and I will
be content knowing that I have earned it. Worry yourself with your
own matters. We will talk again soon."

Five seconds later, he was gone. I went in my
house, remembering what Viggo said about it possibly being bugged.
Great, I got to add paranoid to nervous and guilty.

The only thing that allowed me a decent
night's sleep was a lot of booze. I woke up with a wicked hangover,
but hey, fuck it - it was worth six hours of dreamless rest.

With a little time to myself before I had to
deal with an order that I didn't want to think about, I decided to
get rid of a worry. I called Gwen; we chatted for a while, and then
I requested a short-notice contract for someone competent to come
give my house an immediate security sweep. She told me that Cordell
had put himself back on Silas' roster the day before, and that he'd
be over before noon. I got a discount on the fee, but I planned on
giving my friend Cord a big tip no matter what.

Lucky for me, Viggo's suspicions were
incorrect. Well, mostly. Cordell, thorough as ever, found a GPS
tracker in the undercarriage of my car. Depending on how long it'd
been there, some sneaky little shit knew about my visits with
Ragna. That was no big deal - it was to be expected. They also
might've known about the outings to or near the Galloway house. I
pretty much spelled it out to Edward that I was the dog-woman's
minion, so no sweat there either. But all of my regular stops -
including Keegan's and the Aoki Dojo - were possibly known, putting
some of my friends in potential danger.

I thanked Cordell, sent him off with the
promise of keeping in touch, and put the tracker in my glove box.
I'd decide later what to do with it. As for the other things
sitting heavy in my head . . . There was nothing I could do about
releasing Viggo from his oath, and I could only have faith that
he'd somehow block my very reluctant attempt to give Ed Galloway a
painful death.

After a quick workout, I cleaned up and
gathered a few items to bring along just in case there was nothing
stopping me from setting a fire. When I opened my front door to
leave, I saw that greyhound mix, Auga, sitting on my porch. Fuck.
Since it was early afternoon, I sure as hell didn't expect Ragna to
have one of her spies active and waiting on me. I loaded the
supplies and opened the passenger door for the damn dog to get in.
Despite Viggo's assurance that he'd intervene, I was still full of
dread.

That dread turned into a tickle of joy when I
saw two trucks in front of Galloway's house, and a bunch of
landscapers all over his lawn. They were busy trimming trees,
building flowerbeds, all that sort of shit. If Ragna was somehow
awake and looking through the dog's eyes again, she would've seen
that there was nothing I could do. It also meant that I had to hide
my grin, just in case. I drove by slowly, noticing a sign planted
in the front yard that said, 'Congratulations - Free Spring
Service!' next to a realtor's sale sign. I also saw Chuck and Trish
standing on the porch, sharing a
'what the fuck'
expression.

I dropped the dog off near the Wise Owl Wok,
and then decided to have a late lunch there before returning home.
Once back at my place, I expected to hear from Ragna as soon as the
sun set, either by another delivery or visiting dog with a note
tied to its collar. Until then, I had a chance to mellow out. I was
on my front porch when my neighbor Hector got home from work. I
invited him over for a social drink; we sat and chatted until his
wife Anna called him for dinner. Since Ragna's request would've
been showing up soon, I decided to stay on the porch and wait for
it.