"And in return?"
"I give you the chance - no, the opportunity
- to retain your position and make yourself worthy of the noble
title. The alternative . . . Well, while I presume that you miss
your absent Adepts, I am sure you would not wish to join them."
"This is your version of barter?" Le Meur
asked incredulously. "There's not much choice to be made."
"The other trades I have in mind are not so
severe. For example, I ask that your police officials remove Mr.
Beck as a suspect from the Everett murder case, whether they find
credence with the new evidence or not. In recompense, I will return
Mr. Riva to you. Further, I request that you use your influence to
publicize Mr. Beck's innocence in every form of media. Once you
have done so, I will also release the fledgling Sebastian Horn to
your care."
I was a little embarrassed to be the focal
point in a room full of hemos, but I was also humbled that Viggo
was going out of his way for me like that. I wasn't his only
motive, but I was grateful nonetheless.
Le Meur stewed with a scowl. "Why does your
method of barter seem so much like extortion?" she asked. I wasn't
sure if the question was supposed to be rhetorical or not.
"This is no ultimatum, Lady Le Meur," he
said, taking a step toward her. "You have a choice, or you can
refuse the offers of trade altogether. However, it would be in your
best interest to accept the terms." The demoralized Doyenne
hesitated. I wanted to feel sorry for the arrogant bitch, but . . .
nope, nothing. "Dwell on it," Viggo suggested. "Speak with your
emissaries if you choose. I will expect an answer within twenty
four hours." He ended their exchange by turning away from her one
last time.
Skala spoke up. "Sire, if I may intrude?" He
waited for Viggo to turn and nod. "Deviants aside, I tire from this
poor company. If you have no further need of me this evening, I
will take my leave." Yep, another slap in the face to nearly every
hemo in the room. For a second, I thought Skala wasn't so bad after
all.
"Of course, Aldo, and thank you." Viggo then
said to me, "I must speak to Mr. Merritt for a moment, and then we
will depart as well."
Standing pretty much by myself in the great
room, I saw that some of the hemos were cautiously exiting while
others kept their place, unsure of what to do while Viggo was still
present. Jade Clayton and Cordell were in the latter group,
standing against a wall with uneasy expressions. I glanced over my
right shoulder to make sure Le Meur was done being a pain in the
ass; she was talking in whispers to Vincent Zapada, the Outsider
emissary. Better him than me.
I walked up to Cordell, not sure what to say.
He didn't look pleased to see me. Before I could even get out a
hello, he quietly said, "Your master is the devil's own, Leo. You
should go away."
That caught me off-guard. "Whoa, Cord, what
the hell did -" He and Jade turned and walked away, arm in arm.
She'd turned him against me, or dismissed me because I served
Viggo. On one hand, I thought, 'fuck 'em'. On the other hand,
though, I didn't want to lose a friend; I didn't have many to begin
with.
"Leo," Viggo called to me, "we are leaving
now." I walked over and stood next to him, relaxing myself for
another void-walk. He gave me a strange stare, and then said, "I
meant in the normal fashion. We will leave as we arrived."
"Oh, uh, yes sir." Great, my first impression
on the remaining hemos, and I looked like an idiot.
INTERACTION
There was bound to be a lull after the big
scene at the Everett mansion, and I welcomed it. I'd also call that
night Viggo's coming out event, but that gives off the wrong
impression. 'Night of the Veleti' has a nice ring to it - let's go
with that.
All in all, the spoiled Gathering had
positive results. Viggo let everyone know he was in town, and
they'd better watch their hemo asses. Everything he claimed or
controlled - me included - was off-limits under penalty of Veleti
retaliation. The Doyenne had been put in her place by both warning
and bitch-slap. Declan McKenna was on the run or in hiding. Notices
were given to specific hemos that they better knock their
individual shit off. The only down side was Cordell, but there's no
way to unmake a hemo.
Viggo called me the next evening to say that
I was no longer wanted by the police, and that a short statement of
my innocence would be released the next day. It was a weight off my
shoulders. I hoped it also meant I could no longer be listed as
missing, if only for Miss Loretta's peace of mind.
Part of me wanted to move back to my old
house, just to try and reclaim whatever little bit of normalcy I
could find. But what would that be? I mean, I wasn't going back to
work at Silas or at Keegan's again. To tell the truth, I felt a lot
more secure in my new place (I started calling it 'the
thunderdome', after my cat). Plus, not having to pay any bills was
a big bonus.
I once again had some freedom, and wanted to
use it to stop by for a visit with my former neighbors. While I was
in that area, a few drinks at Keegan's sounded good, too. If my
luck held up, maybe Tanya would give me some hot 'I-missed-you'
sex. Work schedule permitting, I hoped that all of those scenarios
became semi-regular events.
A text to Gwen was returned immediately,
saying that 'Mr. Stone' called her as well. I figured it was up to
Viggo if he wanted her to know the truth or not, so I left it
alone. Gwen also mentioned that Cordell had quit Silas abruptly;
over the phone, he only told her that he accepted another position
that started immediately. Again, I had to bite my damn tongue.
I tried to call Viggo to ask about Gwen's
clearance, but couldn't get through. He must've gone down below the
city somewhere. On the hemo-net, I left the question about her in
the Planner. A message was already in there for me, saying that
Barnabus would be arriving later that evening. The reason for the
visit wasn't stated, but Barnabus was good company . . . as long as
I didn't look at him too much.
I spent my time with a drink and Thunder,
researching the Veleti tribe until Barnabus showed up. Once he got
there, we discussed a few hemos I noticed at the Gathering. I knew
of a number of them, but I was curious about the ones I didn't
recognize.
The Adept Nathan Powell was the business
brain behind Realm Management. Outsider Lexian Grimm owned a seedy
bar that served humans and hemos alike, with a corral of
prostitutes that did the same. Jade Clayton, who I was really
curious about, had a syndicated radio show that catered to the
activist and rebel demographic. I wasn't sure why she chose
Cordell; he was a live and let live kind of guy, or at least used
to be.
Barnabus checked on Phillip to gauge his
'Doyenne detox level', as I put it. He also wanted to practice his
Gift of Control on a resisting mind. When he joined me in the
lounge, I had a few more questions about hemos in comparison to the
legends. No reflection in mirrors? Bullshit. The concept of ringing
bells to run 'em off was, as Barnabus put it, "the most idiotic
fallacy I have ever heard of in my extended life".
I then mentioned the time that I saw Harlan
in a parking lot, pissing on a car. Barnabus told me that a small
percentage of Deviants can ingest regular food and drink, but get
no nutrition from it. They do it only for the purpose of expelling
waste to disgust unsuspecting onlookers. Apparently, pissing on
someone's shoes or vomiting on their evening gown was quite the
party trick at hemo Gatherings.
The last topic of the evening was about
Phillip. I was worried about him missing, and the stress it was no
doubt causing his family. Barnabus said he managed to find out that
Phillip told his father he was taking some time off to travel - a
lie created by Le Meur. I was relieved to hear it, but still wanted
him to get back to his normal life. Barnabus confided that he was
just beginning to acquire the ability to alter or remove memories,
but he'd do his best when Phillip was once again his old self.
Waking up the next day without much of a
hangover, I did the necessary crap and then checked Viggo's Planner
for any updates or pending chores. Nothing there - I had the day
off. Still being cautious (you might call it paranoia), I bought a
prepaid phone and used it to make some calls to people who worried
about me. I had a bullshit story ready for my absence, something
vague about a Marine duty and I couldn't talk about it. As for
being wanted by the police? Just a case of mistaken identity.
All my friends were doing okay. Diego had
only a slight limp by then, and was in good shape. Miss Loretta was
glad I wasn't dead, and then told me to mow my lawn. Hector talked
about his kids; Anna was pregnant again. Keeg and Deb invited me to
a night at their bar with complimentary food and drinks, within
reason. I promised each of them I'd visit soon.
After a trip to my new dojo and gun range
outside the city, I grabbed some dinner for Phillip and myself. An
hour after sunset I turned on the computer, logged into the
hemo-net and checked for anything new in the Planner file. Viggo
left a return message that he would talk to Gwen the following
evening, and wanted me to join them. As long as he was spilling the
beans, I wondered who else was going to show up. I mean, it
would've been stupid to think that Gwen, Natalie and I were his
only minions.
While I had the private server open, I
browsed around again. I figured Viggo's coming out of hiding was
leaked by then, but it wasn't mentioned in my limited social files.
Going back to the Maps folder, I saw a couple new flags on the
sewer level. Attached to the flags was a copy of a Water Department
report detailing vandalism in two utility tunnels; one under a
downtown hospital, the other below an industrial park in a low-rent
area. I blamed the damage on punk kids in serious need of a
beating.
Before I logged off, I got a new message
alert. Viggo sent an update, stating that at 10 p.m. the next night
I was supposed to pick up Gwen at her townhouse. We were then
supposed to go to a midtown diner called Ollie's All-Nite Coffee
Shop, where another of his minions - a Mr. Benjamin Traeger - would
be waiting. I was then to proceed to a cement sewer port next to a
gravel parking lot on the western edge of the huge Kansas City rail
yards.
Viggo's message explained that the port led
to the alcove where we began from to visit one of his Deviant dens.
I was told to guide them to that den. Yeah, the sewer route with
the rats, false wall, and creepy staircase. Gwen and Mr. Traeger
were in for a big fucking surprise.
HOARDER
On the drive to pick up Mr. Traeger, Gwen
wouldn't shut up. She started off grilling me about where I got the
nice car. Then she talked about how happy she was to move back to
her old place from the refurbished fire station. After that was an
endless string of questions about Viggo because she thought I knew
more about him than she did. She was right, but I wasn't going to
rub that in. Coming within sight of the diner, Gwen started asking
about Traeger as if I knew about him, too.
Benjamin Traeger - just Traeg, as he liked to
be called - was a lanky guy in his early forties with thinning
gray-brown hair and a four day beard. He was dressed for the warm
night in blue running shoes, urban camo pants, and a blue t-shirt
with a big logo on it. That logo was for Traeger's Trading Post,
the biggest pawn shop in the Midwest. At least that's what the
t-shirt boasted. Traeg seemed like a nice enough sort, although he
had a no-nonsense vibe. Being a minion of Viggo for over fourteen
years, that vibe made sense. Knowing where I stood with Viggo, I
wasn't too jealous of him.
On the way to the sewer port, Gwen and Traeg
worked out a possible deal for all of Shawn Riordan's guitars, amps
and other shit. I pulled into the deserted lot, spotted the cement
casing for the sewer entrance, and popped the trunk. Traeg was
silent when I handed him galoshes, rubber gloves, a safety mask and
a small flashlight; Gwen looked nervous as hell.
"The ladder rungs are slimy as shit, so be
careful," I told them as I lifted the iron grate from over the
hole. "There will probably be rats down here. They work for Viggo
just like we do, so don't kick 'em or anything. They might run
ahead to let him know we're on our way. Smell that?" They both
nodded, grimacing. "It's a lot worse down there. The mask will
help, but not completely. If you have to throw up, remember to pull
it out of the way first. And no matter what, do not breathe in
through your mouth. Trust me." My little speech didn't sit too well
with Gwen.
While we moved along the walkway next to that
disgusting trench, I learned some things about my fellow minions.
Gwen may have been as strong as hell, but she had shitty balance;
twice she almost slipped into the gurgling brown water. She also
had a stronger stomach than I gave her credit for. Traeg haggled
for a living, but he clammed up when he was tense. When he did talk
down there, though, he swore like a drunken sailor.
When we got to the phantom wall, Traeg didn't
want to accept the illusion until I pushed him through. Gwen, on
the other hand, wanted to keep stepping back and forth through it.
She stayed between me and Traeg going down the spooky stairs,
keeping a too-firm grip on my shoulder. At the end of the curving
hallway, the submarine door was slightly open. I poked my head
through and saw Viggo sitting on a couch watching TV. "Good
evening, sir," I said, pushing the door open. "Should I assume
there's no worry about Wayne visiting tonight?"
"No, that situation has been remedied. Come
in, all of you."
Gwen and Traeg stepped in to the cavernous
room, staring all around. Soon enough, Gwen sat across from Viggo
while Traeg took his time looking at all of the old knick-knacks
lying around. He reached into an upside down medieval helmet
sitting on a table. By the sound of his hand rummaging around in
it, the helmet had a small pile of stuff in it. Traeg pulled out a
big, rough-edged bronze coin and studied it for a few seconds. "Do
you realize how much this is worth?" he asked Viggo.