Irregulars: Stories by Nicole Kimberling, Josh Lanyon, Ginn Hale and Astrid Amara (44 page)

Ortega shrugged. “Agent August texted me. He seemed worried something might happen to them. He wants them all monitored until the investigation closes.”

Fear curled inside Deven. He suspected it had been his threat against the others that made August act to protect them, which meant he didn’t trust Deven not to act without permission. Deven was surprised how much the idea that August didn’t trust him hurt.

“What did you tell them to get them to come with you?” Deven asked.

“They all think they’ve been poisoned by a toxin.”

Deven nearly asked another question when the director’s door opened and August stormed out, for once a little color showing on his cheeks. He looked ready to commit murder. He glanced around and zeroed in on Ortega.

“You got them all?” August barked.

Ortega nodded. “Thirty-six total. A few have to be pulled from job sites, but otherwise, yeah, they’ll all be tucked up safe and sound by this afternoon.”

“Where the fuck is Klakow?”

“He was in the library last I saw him.”

August started down the hall but suddenly swayed and nearly crashed into the wall. Deven rushed to his side. August immediately righted himself.

“I’m fine!” he snapped, but he didn’t look it. His lips were almost blue.

“You’re going to pass out,” Deven said.

“No. I just can’t make sudden movements.” The fingers of his right hand trailed along the wall for support.

Deven and Ortega both watched him slowly make his way. Ortega sipped his coffee and smacked his lips. “That man is going to fall down.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Deven promised.

The library was nothing more than three computers clustered around a printer and mountains of files. Clearly at one point someone had attempted to organize things but gave up halfway through, because some of the contents were color coded to match file cabinets, but other piles remained unsorted.

Klakow looked small in the middle of it, sweating despite the air conditioning and clearly out of his comfort zone.

He shoved an open, crumpled city map toward August. “Here. The circles were drawn by Zardo. It shows where the sacrifices were located.”

“What did you find out about Night Axe?”

“Not much. There isn’t any mention of him, although older references mention sightings of Tezcatlipoca, an Aztec god who was missing a foot. Thirteen years ago, eight bodies were found with their throats cut outside this building,” he said, pointing to one spot, “and another ten over here.” Klakow turned to Deven. “What did you find out from your Aztaw contact?”

“He’s dead.”

Klakow’s eyes widened. “How?”

“Burned by Night Axe’s minions.”

“Before he could tell you anything?” Klakow asked.

August rolled his eyes. “Obviously. Don’t be an idiot. Move over.” He urged Klakow out of the room’s solitary chair and sat down rather inelegantly, sprawling in the seat as if his body was no longer able to support itself. “I honestly don’t know how you ever became an agent.” August started digging through the paperwork spread out on the table. “Give me your damn pen.”

Deven reached behind his ear, but Klakow handed him a Sharpie, which seemed to be what August was after. Deven felt a little foolish and stepped back into the shadows.

August marked the locations where the bodies had been found, which were nearly central to the locations of the living victims.

August typed quickly on the computer in front of him. Deven, who still struggled with basic spelling and who found keyboards slow torture devices highlighting his lack of education, was amazed at the speed at which August typed.

“What are you looking for now?” Klakow complained.

“Information on poisons.” He studied the screen.

“What are you thinking?” Deven asked.

“You said we have to poison his blood to weaken him, right? Well, I’m connected to Night Axe, so if I ingest something toxic, it will affect him. We need a substance that’ll weaken him enough to incapacitate but with a fast enough working antidote to save me and the other sacrifices.”

Alarm zinged through Deven. “That sounds dangerous.”

“You got a better idea?” August smirked, but Deven now knew August’s sarcastic looks well enough to recognize he was faking it. Clearly this idea frightened him as much as it did Deven. “Klakow, call R&D in DC and find out what they have on toxic chemicals affecting otherworldly beings.”

“I don’t work for you, remember?”

“You are an assistant on this investigation from internal affairs. You work for me until we resolve Carlos’s death.”

“Help him, Agent Klakow.”

All three of them turned. The director stood in the doorway, watching the men. Behind her stood Agent Ortega and another shorter, bored-looking man who Deven assumed to be Agent Zardo.

“Yes, ma’am,” Klakow mumbled. He shuffled past the director. Deven noticed that August didn’t bother to look at the director. He kept typing on the computer.

“I’m Director Herlinda Alonsa.” The director held out her hand to Deven and he shook it awkwardly. She turned and faced August. “Why do you want a toxicity report?”

“Deven learned Night Axe needs to be poisoned in order to be weakened enough to be captured. I can poison him. I’m attached. We find something that I can survive with a timed antidote and this may be the best way to subdue him.”

The director shook her head. “You’re too weak already.”

“I’m fine,” August grumbled. “Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”

“We’d have to detach the other sacrifices,” Agent Ortega said. “Otherwise we risk poisoning them as well.”

“Dr. Ramos wouldn’t do it for me,” August said.

“That was before we were considering poisoning three dozen people with a toxic substance strong enough to bring down an Aztaw,” Zardo said.

The director nodded. “Zardo and Ortega, go to the hospital and get Dr. Ramos up to speed. We’ll attempt a separation on a healthy volunteer. We need to move quickly.”

Deven worried that detaching victims, while offering the benefit of draining Night Axe’s blood, would also alert him to their plan. But he didn’t say anything. Director Alonsa didn’t look like the kind of person who was open to suggestions from strangers, and besides, at her command the rest of the room dispersed until it was only August, Alonsa, and himself.

“One more day, Silas,” Director Alonsa said, lingering in the library doorway. “That’s all you get. Then I’m putting you on medevac back to LA.”

She left the room and August’s mood seemed to dampen further. He slumped in his seat and rubbed his eyes.

“She’s taking you off the investigation?” Deven asked.

August nodded. “She thinks I’m getting careless because I’m sick. But it isn’t me. It’s this fucking case...” He pushed at the map angrily, tossing it to the floor. August covered his eyes with his hands.

Deven sighed and walked around the table and picked up the map. He studied August’s markings. He grabbed August’s marker and put a check next to one of the locations.

August uncovered his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Night Axe is there.”

“How can you tell?”

“He’ll be based at a crossroads. Crossroads are sources of malevolent energy for Aztaw lords and can enhance their house powers. Night Axe would rely on this additional source of power to fuel any wards or protection spells he has around himself.”

“Do you know how to dismantle his wards?”

Deven shrugged. “There are basic wards around locked rooms in Aztaw that I can pick, but more complicated ones require magic more powerful than I have.”

“There’s a ward pruner in the armory I can borrow,” August said, sounding more enthusiastic. “Whatever you can’t handle I’m sure the pruner can.”

Deven shook his head. “But it won’t be wards alone. We’ve already seen that Night Axe has soldiers.”

“The director will issue a raid,” August said. “It’s usually for cases where a dangerous artifact is located but is occasionally applied when apprehending a threatening suspect.”

“We should go to the hospital, so if the separation works, you can be detached as well.”

August shook his head. “As much as I love the idea, we need my connection, not only for the poison but to find him. The map gives us an idea of his general whereabouts, but I can still zero in on his location.”

“You’ve seen how powerful he is,” Deven cautioned. “There’ll be casualties.”

“This morning you didn’t seem to care about casualties,” August said, but he didn’t sound angry, only curious.

Deven shrugged. “I
don’t
care, but you clearly do. I recognize my sense of morality is...skewed.”

August barked a short laugh. “One way of putting it.”

August’s phone rang, and when he glanced down at the screen a look of fear quickly crossed his eyes before he blinked and took the call. He crossed to the corner of the room farthest from Deven, which peaked Deven’s curiosity. August hadn’t needed privacy for other calls.

While August was on the phone Deven returned to the Irregulars’ kitchen and brought the pastry he’d saved for August back to the library. August had finished his call and took the pastry with a nod, looking wrung out. “That was Teresa.”

“Teresa?”

“Carlos’s girlfriend. She hadn’t heard from anyone and wanted to know what was going on.” August pocketed his phone. Deven noticed his hands were shaking again.

“Did you tell her he was dead?”

“Of course. No benefit in lying to her.” He ate the pastry quickly and looked around as if hoping there’d be another. Deven felt guilty for having eaten the rest.

“Did you tell her how?” Deven asked.

August glanced down at him. “No. She’s aware of the Irregulars and what we do because she works in the San Francisco branch office, but I’m not going into details. That’s something no one wants to hear about the person they care about.” August angrily reached into his pocket and mouthed a handful of pills.

Deven considered what it would be like to date someone who worked in the same office. It was an unusual situation. In Aztaw, male and female couples led different lives. The women had their own society, their own hobbies and rituals and world outside of soldiering. Only in the temples did the two sexes work together, honoring their lords.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Deven asked curiously.

August quirked his eyebrow. “Do you think I’d be flirting with a man if I did?”

Deven smiled. “Boyfriend?”

“It’s been several years since I’ve been in a relationship,” August admitted. He busied himself with folding up the map he’d drawn on. “The last one ended badly.”

“Why?”

“Because of the job.”

“Why would that matter?”

August gave Deven a look like he was being an idiot again. “Honestly, how big do you think the pool of prospective homosexual men at NIAD is?” He waved his hand over the office. “The few gay employees in the division are stationed all over the world. And the few at the San Francisco branch are not appropriate dating material.”

“Why?”

“I have no interest in screwing goblins, even if they’re trans-goblins. Way too much goblin family baggage to deal with.”

“So you’re the only homosexual human in San Francisco?”

August rolled his eyes. “Obviously not. But my other options in the division are an old bum with frightening fashion sense and a vegetarian.” August said this last word as though foregoing eating meat was even more unattractive than being a goblin. “You may have met the goblin at that Christmas party they made you attend.”

The only person Deven remembered at the Christmas party was an attractive man who had been eating cigarettes right out of the pack. Considering that, he could see why August might not date inside the agency.

“What about people who aren’t agents?”

“Dating outside of the Irregulars is too difficult.”

“Why?”

“It’s hard to constantly lie to someone you love. You can’t explain what you do, what challenges you face. They don’t understand how different the world seems, and when something bad happens and you need to talk about it, all you can do is make up some excuse about lost visa applications and hope they buy it.” August’s eyes suddenly got glassy and Deven wished he hadn’t brought up the topic.

August cleared his throat. “Let’s get something more substantial to eat, then check in on the sacrifices.” It took him two tries to get out of the chair, and as he stood, the little color in his cheeks drained once more. Deven walked beside him in case he lost his balance. August leaned into him, their arms brushing as they made their way down the hall.

August lowered his voice. “What about you?” he asked. “Have you dated much?”

“When would I?”

“You’ve been back a year. You could have met someone.”

“No.”

“So no one?” August looked at him, curious. “You’ve never been with anyone?”

Deven quickly determined that his experience with the woman Lord Jaguar had offered ranked low on the morality scale, so he skipped that story, proud of his growing sensibilities.