﻿ English version This ebook, in origin “Zed Experiments series”, was published as an experiment in English language with Zed Lab. The ZEdEx stories and novels are translated into a "hybrid" (automatic) version, waiting to be corrected by a reader who knows the target language. Next, the hybrid version was edited by a translator, and this is the final version in the English language. Now, from this version you can make a comic, an audiobook, or a direct translation in another language (excluding Italian, English and Spanish). If you can do it, come with us to Zed Lab. With Zed Lab you can: Experiment Learn Have fun AND MAKE MONEY! www.quellidized.it/zedlab Carmelo Massimo Tidona NOCTURNAL www.quellidized.it Nocturnal Copyright © 2012 Carmelo Massimo Tidona Zerounoundici Edizioni ISBN: 978-88-6578-206-4 Cover: Free image from FrreDigitalPhotos.net Work autonomously proposed by the author, not submitted to selection from the publisher GRATIS! If your device is not trained to the download, open this ebook on your PC and download the files (it needs Internet connection) NOCTURNAL CHAPTER 1 It was morning. Lately it seemed like it was always morning. Not like “it's still too early for lunch”, rather like “pull yourself out of that damned bed and try to keep your eyes peeled because you have to go to work”. Amanda hated that sensation. Although she wasn't used to stay up late at night, recently she felt like she wasn't able to sleep enough. No, not exactly... she wasn't able to rest enough, just as if sleeping made her more tired instead of shedding tiredness off her. She rolled in the bed, repressing a yawn and pulling along most of the blankets, letting her bare back uncovered. A shiver ran down her spine, killing the already feeble will she had of getting up, but with a supreme effort she was able to put the blankets aside completely, fighting against the instinct to pull them up again and nestle in the pleasantly warm bed for some extra minute of sleep. She knew all too well that, if she did, those minutes would soon become hours, and she would have to explain the rector of the university the reason why she had skipped work. No one in the world wanted to explain that man anything, and Amanda was no exception. After gulping a warmed coffee and washing with some water that couldn't be called just “cold”, she was at least able to keep her eyes open without using her fingers. She put on her glasses and some clothes chosen at random from the chest – doing it all in the wrong order, so that her pullover got caught in the frame of the spectacles, and she had to spend five minutes trying to wriggle it free without launching them on the floor or, even worse, under her feet – then she finally left for the station, cheerfully thinking that she was not too late after all. In those days almost everyone had a personal means of transport. She had thought about that too, then decided that, even though she could buy one, she preferred not to have it, all things considered. After all, public transports where perfectly fine and not expensive, the only problem was avoiding the most crowded times, which she was able to do... most of the time. The station wasn't far from her place, ten minutes at worst using the main streets. Of course she didn't have that much time, so she rather turned into the alleys who cut the block like a network. They didn't have a good repute, but so early in the morning they were almost deserted... then again this should have been an additional good reason not to go there at all. Anyway, so far nothing bad had ever happened to her, and that was the thought crossing her mind when she bumped against an obstacle that shouldn't have been there, and fell sitting on the pavement. Thankfully her large bag, mostly full of papers, fell between her and the hard floor, sparing her part of the impact, but still she fell hard enough for her glasses to jump and come to a halt on the tip of her nose. She thought she had to look quite ridiculous like that. The first thing she did, however, was not putting them back in place but looking up to try and understand who had decided to place a wall in the middle of the alley. She found out the wall had arms, legs and a quite terrifying haircut. The expression on the face of the bloke while he walked toward her left no doubts about the fact that he hadn't bumped into her by mistake. «Quick!» The voice came from behind her assailant, thus either he was a good ventriloquist or he had an accomplice hidden to her by his size. She chose the second option, which was soon confirmed by the apparition of another boy approaching. This was much slimmer than the first. He actually looked like a badly-assembled scarecrow and walked like he was just going along with the wind, but when it came to the haircut... deciding who had the worst would have been a very hard choice. «The bracelet.» This time it was the walking wall speaking. Amanda looked down at the simple crystal bracelet around her wrist as if she was seeing it for the first time ever. «Are you kidding?» she asked in return. «What would you do with it?» Either those two had lived the last fifty years in another world, which was quite unlikely because by their looks they probably didn't sum up forty years put together, or they were unredeemable idiots. This, however, didn't mean they couldn't be dangerous. «Shut up and give me the bracelet!» the wall insisted, unsheathing a knife. Amanda stared at him. There was no doubt left; they were idiots. Of course she wasn't expecting fireweapons, but that tiny blade was almost... pathetic! «Fine, fine, give me a second», she replied meekly. She pushed back her glasses with the tip of a finger, then grabbed the bracelet with her right hand and tried to remove it, pulling hard as if it were stuck and wouldn't let go. The wall got closer with a nervous pace, almost touching her. This moved him from the “idiot” category to the “completely dumb” one. «So? We've no time to waste!» he grunted. «One moment... almost there...» she was trying to look scared, or at least worried, but it was hard to. She gave a last pull and the bracelet, which had never offered any resistance in the first place, slid to her left hand while she used the moment to reach out to the man and grab his balls trough the thin fabric of the sweatpants he had on. "If you really want to keep this career, at least wear some strong jeans", she thought, while the knife left the hand of its owner, no longer trying to keep it, and bounced tingling on the street. The big man bent over her hand. Big or small, you only had to know how to handle them... «WhoOOOOooooooooooo...» the swearword turned into an howl, dying slowly as Amanda's grip grew stronger and stronger. «Language!» she remarked, letting him go and quickly lying on her back, bending her legs. The brute didn't have enough time to rejoice for the liberation of his family jewels before both feet of his supposed victim hit his chin, sending him flying backwards and falling on his pal, who had stood in place, astonished, the whole time, barely understanding what was going on. "Deem yourself lucky I don’t wear stiletto heels", Amanda thought as she stood up and tried to dust her trousers. «Kill her!» the wall shrieked, keeping both hands below his waist as if he was afraid that his balls could fall and roll away if he didn't keep them in place. The scarecrow moved forward. In spite of his menacing look, he didn't seem like he wanted to get too close, and Amanda had no trouble understanding why. She moved her hand next to her hip and only then realized that she was missing something. She repressed the instinct of turning to look behind; although those guys had plainly showed that they weren't so brilliant, she didn't think it was good to give them her back, so she tried to think fast of something to do. She decided to let the strap of her bag slip away from her shoulder and grabbed it at middle length, swinging it slightly. She had to leave the bracelet on the pavement, and for a second she hoped no one tried to steal it while she was busy... but who in the world, apart from those idiots, could be as stupid to even try? She made her bag do a full circle, even though she knew that, after that, she was going to need a detective, at least, to find something in there. The scarecrow let go a rough laugh, to show that he wasn't worried by that unlikely weapon. Whom he was trying to show it to was an open question. «Either do something or get out of my way, I'm late», she remarked. «Are you kidding me?» was his grunted answer. «Would you leave if I say I am?» That last remark seemed to hit the switch in the boy, who started running at her, shaking his fists in the air. Actually, he gave the impression of falling rather than moving. The bag swung again, and this time it hit the boy full in the neck. He stumbled back, then he shook for a second as if he had been hit by a charge and fell in a heap of slim limbs. Amanda stared, amazed, unable to understand what she had just seen. She hadn't hit that hard. Then again, she wouldn't have been able to obtain a similar effect even if she had hit much harder than she had. Then she looked up and the mystery was no more. A man wearing a blue uniform walked to her, reaching out with a hand for some reason, as if he thought she needed help walking. «Are you OK, miss?» Police. WOW. Someone had really called the police. Now she was really going to be late. CHAPTER 2 She was ready for an endless reproach when she left the station to go to the university, half the morning having been lost by then. Of course it wasn't her fault, as it would have been obvious for anyone that she couldn't refuse to answer the questions of a police officer just because she was late for work. Anyone would understand. Anyone would accept that justification. What not just anyone would notice, but the rector would for sure, was that if she had left her place a few minutes earlier she would have been able to avoid “such shortcuts” and the whole problem wouldn't have existed at all. Full stop. End of the debate. She would rather confront two or three more smugglers than having to justify even once with Parker. That man had the power to make her feel guilty even when her conscience was perfectly clean. Which admittedly didn't happen that often. She was so anxious for the unavoidable confrontation that, although she was going to regret it, when she saw the police marks around the building, and all of her colleagues kept outside by agents, she couldn't help feeling better. It took her a few seconds before she wondered what exactly she was seeing, and why. When the doubt that something bad could have happened to one of her friends – though that was too big a word for them – arose, she had already reached the enclosed space, and she was promptly stopped by one of the policemen surrounding it. «You can't pass.» Dry, quick, authoritarian like a monkey and just as well-mannered. «I work in here. I am a teacher.» The agent stared at her as if the word “teacher” had just been invented. «Wait here. Detective!» He kept staring, as if she could ran away if he dared to stop looking for a split second. After a little while, a second man in plain clothes reached them. "Plain", actually, was an exaggeration: he was wearing some green-fabric trousers under a turtleneck and a suit jacket of two different shades of brown. Altogether, he looked like an upside-down tree. «Who are you supposed to be?» he asked, not sparing a thought for introducing himself. Supposed to be? Amanda was reasonably sure that she was, with no conditions, but somehow she managed to keep the thought for herself. «Amanda Sheldon. I teach compared biology.» «Human?» «The biology or me?» The detective seemed to lose interest in the answer and carried on with a new question «Did you know Trey Parker?» Why was he using the past tense? «Of course.» The contrary would have been quite difficult. No one could work for Trey Parker and not know him. «When did you see him last?» «Yesterday morning. Barely.» They had met in a corridor just once in the whole day, and exchanged nothing more than a greeting. One of the best conversation they ever had, as far as she was concerned. «Do you know if he had any enemy?» Amanda stopped just short of answering "the whole staff of the faculty", and not only because she realized in time that she was included in that definition. Actually, no one of them could stand Parker, and even more his extreme precision and exaggerated straightforwardness, but enemies was too big a word. They didn't love him, but they respected him and no one hated him, for sure not so much as to... She realized that the information was still in mid-air, like electricity before a lightning. It seemed to her that the answer was obvious, but she needed to hear it out loud. «What happened to him?» Once again, receiving a question instead of an answer seemed to disconnect the detective from his personal mind processes and make him change the subject of the questioning. Or maybe he just wasn't listening to a single word she was saying. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be ignored. «Where were you this morning between eight and ten?» Amanda sighed. «Police headquarters.» The man seemed to hear at least this answer. He opened his eyes just a bit more, and for the first time he seemed to look straight at her. «Doing what?» «I was assailed this morning while coming here. I had to go there to testify», she explained. «We can check this», he remarked. Amanda glared at him with eyes wide open. She was about to answer "No, see, I was here doing whatever has been done, I just thought that saying I was at the police headquarters was a good excuse no one could deny." She stood silent. «You can go with your colleagues. Stay within reach», the detective went on, then he added to the officer who had first stopped her «Let her in.» Entering the area, Amanda wondered how she could not be in reach, considering she was going to be less than a hundred meters away. Once again she kept her mental notes for herself. While she approached the small group of teachers she had spotted earlier, she couldn't help trying to look behind the uniforms that where surrounding something in the middle of the court. A blank sheet had been thrown on something that was very likely to be Trey Parker, excellent rector of the faculty of Science. The sheet was clean. There wasn't anything odd around, as long as you could avoid considering the large number of strangers in the area, most of which wearing a uniform of some kind. She approached Damon, one of her colleagues, mostly because it was the nearest rather than for anything else, and asked the question that so far no one, except evidence, had replied to. «What happened?» Damon looked down at her, which was unavoidable. Rarely he could look up, or even straight at anyone of his colleagues, unless he kneeled down, considering he was more than two meters tall. That matched his bulky body, which made him look more like a bodybuilder rather than a teacher. Jet-black hair, dark eyes and a short beard where the last touches of the picture, and for some reason he always made her think of the big bad wolf, the one who demolished houses with a breath. At least until he kept silent... «Don't you know?» That was it. His voice was quite the opposite of all the rest of him. Soft, shrill, but most of all amazingly feminine. If both of them had been talking into a dark room, she would have had more chances to pass as a man. «Parker was killed. This morning, or so they said.» Yes, that gave a sense to the kind of questioning she had undergone. «Do they know how?» she asked, not really hoping for a good answer. Damon shook his head to say they didn't. It would have been useless to ask if he knew who was suspected, provided anyone was – which she didn't believe. Police wasn't going to tell him anyway. «Do you think they will be upset if I go into my office for a second?» He shrugged. «They didn't tell us not to go in. But there is nothing to do inside.» Why, is there something to do outside? «OK, see you later» was all she answered as she walked to the building, expecting at each step to hear someone call her back and tell her she had to stay with the others. No one did. Once inside, she didn't even go near her office, instead she went straight to Parker's. The nameless detective had let slip that the man had been killed between eight and ten, something that made little sense to her. With all the people coming and going there in the morning, a corpse wasn't likely to stay in the courtyard more than a few minutes before anyone literally tripped into it. So, whatever was the time at which someone had found it and called for help, she was quite sure the body hadn't been there but for the previous minute or so. And if there really was any logical reason to think he had died between eight and ten, that meant one thing alone: he hadn't died out there. After all, Parker wasn't going to leave the building before lunchtime, and she was quite sure he had arrived long before lessons started. Either someone had lured him out somehow, which she thought was quite unlikely, or he had been killed in a most proper place, so to speak, then brought him where he was now. And the most likely crime scene, considering the habits of the victim, was his office, the place in which he spent most of his days. She reached the door cautiously, expecting that the police had sealed it, or that at least there was someone examining the room, but apparently no one was there or even nearby. She tried the handle. The door opened. A vague sense of guilt jumped on her when she went through the door. She wasn't supposed to try and find out what had happened, that was the police task. Once, she had promised she wasn't going to let mysteries and investigations tempt her, yet there she was again. Then again, the promise had been made to Parker... and he really wasn't about to complain. The office looked tidy. Not “maniacally tidy”, which was weird. Even though she wasn't able to understand what was... out of place was saying too much... less in place than usual... she wasn’t feeling the usual sensation of unease that place never failed to create, that sense of estrangement you felt going in, just as if you had stepped into another world. Maybe it was just the absence of the rightful owner, which was second to no one when it came to make you feel that way, but no, it couldn't be just that. She started carefully examining every single detail, even the most irrelevant ones. The chart on the wall, right to the door, perfectly parallel to the line dividing the light-green part of the wall from the upper cream-white one. The desk, opposite the door, on which order ruled, where a speck of dust would be ashamed to fall. The chairs for guests, symmetrically placed. The bookshelf, where books where placed from the shorter to the taller. The chest... the bookshelf! She got closer to check again. She was right: a book was out of place. Not for her, actually, neither probably for any other sentient being, but from Parker's point of view it sure was, more than two centimeters taller the neighboring ones, almost equal to one another. She reached out to take it, then stopped in mid-motion. Better take some precautions. She drew a kerchief from her pocket and used it to take the book without touching it with her bare fingers. It was slim and tall, hard-covered and with but a few pages. On a dark blue background stood the purposely childish drawing of a lying girl – she seemed to be leaning on the left side of the cover for support – wrapped in a curtain of blond hair. The title was above, in old-style letters: "The sleeping princess". A children tale. What was it doing there, among serious science books? What was it supposed to mean? She opened it, putting it on the desk so she could keep touching it with only one hand, turning the pages much more delicately than needed, but she found nothing different from what it seemed from the outside. Large text, even larger drawings taking most of each page, the sweetened version of a more gruesome legend, happy ending included. That made no sense. She checked that there was nothing hidden in the cover, then put the book back where it had been. She turned and her gaze fell on something sticking out from under the desk. A pen. Not just any pen, actually. Parker's. The one always peeking from the pocket of his suit. She would recognize it everywhere, but the floor was the last place she expected to find it on. She didn't pick it up – putting it back exactly where it was would have been quite hard – but she bent for a closer look. It must have fallen there, but why hadn't Parker recovered it? Unless he had no longer been able to already. Not far there was a stain on the carpet, barely more than a shade, but it wouldn't have gone unnoticed to the owner of that room. It was too pale to be blood. Water? She brushed it with a fingertip, surely she couldn't left prints on that fabric, and found it dry. Water wouldn't have been visible then, it would just dry without traces. She smelled her finger, but only felt the smell of the carpet, or of whatever they used to clean it. Three elements where a proof, but a proof of what? There was something wrong in that office, but nothing that could prove without any doubt that something serious had happened there... let alone what had. For sure she wasn't going to find any answer there, nor probably in the entire university. Although she didn't like the idea, there was only one place to go when you had so many questions and no acceptable answer. The Underdark. CHAPTER 3 Given the situation, lessons were suspended, for the great relief of the students. Less of the teachers. Indeed, sharing her time between answering useless questions to the police and attending endless extraordinary meetings to discuss the recent events didn't match the concept Amanda had of a pleasant day. When she was finally able to leave the university, evening had already fallen, and a feeble blue light escorted her all the way to the station, which was all but empty. She went straight to the desk and told the teller her destination, reaching out with her left wrist. The man lightly touched her bracelet with a thin, long metal rod. A low light went from the former to the latter, and only then the teller allowed his mouth to form the shadow of a meaningless smile. «Thank you, you can depart immediately», he announced. Amanda went through the little and empty waiting room, relived only by the echoes of a voice calling her destination. She entered the main area of the station – a square room which floor was taken for more than one half by a complex disc of polished stone – and found two other men. The first, with his back to her, must be another passenger for the same place. Although he looked vaguely familiar to her, she didn't think she really knew him. Maybe they had already met in a similar situation. The second, bearing marked elven features, wore the suit of the sorters. A job Amanda always deemed extremely boring. This one again announced the destination out loud. Probably he had to, but this didn't help making it seem less stupid. Of course, there could always be absent-minded people around, but with only two people there, only an idiot couldn't have yet understood. Finally the sorter resolved to do what he was supposed to. The familiar milky halo appeared, perpendicular to the disc on the floor, and Amanda waited for the other traveler to move forward, but he stepped aside and gestured for her to go first, which she did with half a thankful smile. Just an instant later she was leaving the nearest station to her home, determined to take the long route this time. After all she wasn't in a hurry: the Underdark was not a place you could easily be late to. Placed at the borders of the suburbs – in that no-one-land where the high-rises of the town center gave space to shorter and more lived houses that someone called twilight zone, as it was in the middle between the places people used to stay during the day and the ones in which most of them retired at night – the Underdark was the meeting place of a wide and multicolored population of nocturnal people. The term was meant to have more connotations than it used to, and many more than Amanda appreciated. The place was surrounded by a fence, interrupted here and there by small black marble columns, that had a cemetery feeling. A narrow path of irregular polished stones went through a small but well-cared garden, leading directly to the front of the building, this too covered by black tiles on the whole surface, with the exception of the entrance: an archway sided by spiraling, black columns with silver veining, closed only by thick curtains of matching color. Just above it there was a large and anonymous sign. In the right light it was possible to see on it the name of the place, written in old and elaborate letters. Amanda always suspected that a large part of the local customers did not need any particular light to see it, but always refrained from trying to find a confirmation. If Amanda had gone there with the same attire she had used for work, most likely she wouldn't even have been able to get near the gate, thus she had changed completely. The jeans and the pullover had been replaced by a black dress, not too close fitting; she had put on transparent black stockings and a pair of stiletto-heeled shoes, on which she was now walking as if that was putting to test her mental and physical abilities. Her mahogany red hair fell over her shoulders in a waterfall of curls. Each time some girl confessed her how much she envied those curls, Amanda always answered with a smile, behind which she hid the irresistible urge to reply "Try managing them for a couple of week and see if you still think so". To each side of the gate, as an unlikely statue, stood a man who didn't merge chameleon-like to the black marble behind only thanks to the fair skin of his face and hands. Everything else was covered by entirely black suits, matching their hair and sunglasses, which they wore in spite of the fact that the sun had been all but visible for a long time by then. From a distance they could easily pass for identical twins. If Amanda passing by made any kind of interest arise in them, they were able to hide it perfectly. The reaction of the girl at the entrance hall was quite different: she watched her coming with ill-conceived attention and flung the curtains open for her with professional courtesy. Beyond the archway there was a corridor ending in a second passage looking just like the first one, curtains and all. There was a wardrobe on the left, where Amanda had nothing to leave in that weather, opposite to a sort of small living room – with old-fashioned sofas, some round tea tables and a large mirrored chest of drawers – and another curtain which hid the entrance to the restrooms, for those few of the customers who might need them. The architect of the place had probably believed that it was more chic to sit and chat while waiting for one's turn, than standing in line in front of the door. The locale proper was plunged in a crisscross of lights and shadows which made its atmosphere much more intimate than what Amanda wanted. On one side, the large counter, black and polished, behind which no less than three bartenders, two male and a female, where doing their best to satisfy the requests of the patrons sitting on the tall stools, much more comfortable than they appeared to be. On the other a small stage, on which a piano player cheered the audience with some moody song. In the middle a whole series of tables, chairs and couches, arranged so that each group of customers could have some degree of privacy. Who deemed it not to be enough could always chose to retire into one of the private rooms upstairs. Provided, obviously, that they could afford it. Nothing had changed from the last time Amanda had been there, although it seemed like a lifetime before. She sighed silently before entering the main room, looking around casually as if she wasn't searching for someone as much as absently watching her surroundings. She knew at least a couple of people she could try and get information from, none of which was anywhere to be seen. Although, given the scarce lighting and the fact that she hadn't her glasses on, that might mean much less than it seemed. She didn't like being there. She had never liked it, even before, when it happened much more often. Then as now, it was only a matter of business, if business was the right word for it. And then as now this wasn't enough to put her at ease. Of course she had a very good reason to investigate on her own. She was sure that the police, especially after the show of that morning, wasn't going to find a single answer. And Parker, after all, had been a... friend was saying too much, really too much, but colleague was almost as good. And also... also she knew all too well that this was most of all a very good excuse to start meddling again in other people businesses. Not that she enjoyed doing that, but she had to admit she was quite good at it. She went to the counter and sit on a stool, careful in choosing one between two empty places. If any of her former contacts was there, or was going to be, they would see and approach her, but it might take a long time: the Underdark was open from sunset to sunrise, and the former was much closer than the latter. She was sipping a cocktail when a leap of the shadows made her realize someone was behind her. Before she could turn, a polite fake cough reached her ears, the kind that would be used to draw the attention of someone to whom you have to say something, either you want it or not. Not exactly the attitude she could expect from any of her old acquaintances. Turning slowly, she ended up looking into a strong chest enclosed into a stiff dark suit jacket, bearing more buttons than any of her dresses. She had to look up to see whom it belonged to. The man, a complete stranger to her, was tall and well built, two features that clashed whit his ebony skin and the short white hair, barely visible under a doorkeeper hat. No. Not a doorkeeper. Driver, was the correct definition. That men was in a perfect driver attire, and stood there stiff and motionless as if waiting for the chance to open the door of a coach and let her in. «My mistress was wondering whether you would be so kind as to be her guest at her table. She would appreciate to have the chance for a word with you.» His voice, too, was stiff and affected as much as his posture, it was almost as if he was repeating words learned by heart. And... mistress? With some effort, Amanda tried to look beyond the man to see who had sent that weird invitation. She met the gaze of an elegantly dressed lady who sent her an enigmatic smile. Was she trying to hit on her? In that case, she had to admit it was the most original attempt she had ever witnessed. She made a mental shrug. In its own way, the Underdark could be a dangerous place, but sitting at a table and talking didn't usually kill anyone. Or at least not anyone she had heard of. The driver seemed to read her thoughts because, when she stood, he lead her to the table of that woman, with a bodyguard attitude that seemed quite out of place in that situation. Sure it wasn't like she could be assailed while going from the counter to the table... or was it? If he could have, he would probably have pulled back the chair to help her sit down, but since there was only a semicircular sofa around the table, she would never know that for sure. «Vivienne Blanchard», the lady introduced herself abruptly, while politely gesturing for her to sit down opposite her. She reached out with a hand, but not like she wanted to shake hers, rather it seemed like she wanted to show her the back of it, or maybe the elaborate ring on her finger. What was she supposed to do? She decided to do nothing at all, and at least the woman didn't seem to take it as an offence, and just showed a condescending smile. «Amanda Sheldon», she replied. «Oh, of course, I know. This is the very reason why I invited you here.» Her accent had an exotic, indefinable feeling to it. Her "r", especially, seemed to be aristocratically unfinished, insubstantial, as if she had her own personal method to pronounce them without a single vibration. «I didn't think I was famous», Amanda replied, hiding her surprise. Who was that woman, exactly? Her face told nothing to her. She had ripe lips, their crimson color like a beacon on the snowy skin of her face, framed in long jet-black hair. Her eyes where dark, almost black, and her long and curved eyelashes cut them out of her visage, almost making them float on their own in the shadows of the room. «Fame is an abstract concept. And not always a positive thing. What does really matter is to be known to the right people.» «Which include you, I take.» «At times.» She smiled, showing for a second a series of marble-white and just too perfect teeth, then she raised a chalice from the table and took it to her mouth, holding it by the stem with the tips of her fingers. Her nails were the same color of her lips. «I know that you are looking for someone», she continued after barely dipping her lips in the contents of the glass, something Amanda wasn't able to identify. «You know a lot of things.» «Many more than you might think, my dear.» «This one is wrong, though. I'm not looking for anyone.» «You should.» What was that supposed to mean? Amanda didn't want to give her a satisfaction asking, and just stood silent. Vivienne answered the unspoken question anyway. «Sometimes it is better to find than it is to be found.» «Do you always speak in riddles?» «There are some things that cannot be spoken plainly.» «I'll take it for a yes.» «Sharp. I do like that. But do not exaggerate, someone might not like your attitude. After all, I am sure you do not really think that just having a weapon on yourself is enough to fend off every danger, do you?» Amanda strongly hoped that her face wasn't showing what she was feeling. How could that woman know she was armed? The wand was carefully strapped to her leg, she had made sure it was all but invisible under the dress. She had to resist the temptation of looking down to make sure it still was, and forced a neutral smile. «Is this a threat?» «My dear, if it had been in my intentions to threaten you, I would have done so. Or, most likely, I would have had you killed, then threatened you afterwards, in order to spare time. But, believe it or not as you will, I am trying to keep you alive.» «What did I do to deserve such an honor?» «Nothing as yet. Another reason why to try to make you live long enough to change this situation.» This time Amanda did nothing to hide the confusion rising within her. «You are a most uncommon person, Amanda.» That couldn't be denied. As far as she knew, she was actually unique. But it wasn't like she had ever gained any advantage from that. «You switched from threats to compliments, I see.» «You do know what I mean», the woman accompanied her reply with an annoyed gesture of her hand. «For some, you are like a beacon in the heat of the night. Even unknowingly or unwillingly, they will come to you sooner or later, if they still have not.» «I still don't get what you are talking about.» «So much the better.» «So you made me come here just to give me unintelligible information that it's better for me not to understand?» «No. I made you come here to tell you that you might as well not be the only uncommon creature in this town, and that you should better look for the other one, before the other one finds you.» «And who... what is this creature supposed to be?» «I warned you, the rest is up to you.» «I hope you don't think I owe you anything for your riddles...» «Things are much simpler than that, my dear. Either you do what I expect you to do, after which you will owe me no more, or soon you will be dead, in which case it would not matter any longer.» «Threats again.» «I think I told you, I am not prone to threatening people. I was only explaining the situation to you, I did never state I would partake in your death. Ash, prepare the coach, I am leaving.» The last sentence was evidently for the black-skinned man, who immediately left the room. That woman really had a coach. Incredible. «Aren't coaches a little too old-fashioned lately?» «It only takes persisting and every thing comes back in fashion sooner or later.» «And I take you have been persisting for a while.» «Longer than you can imagine, my dear, longer than you can imagine.» The woman stood, sliding between the table and the sofa with a fluid and graceful movement that Amanda would never have been able to reproduce. «What is your part in all this?» she managed to ask her before she was out of reach. «I do not like competition» she answered, almost in whisper, before she went through the door and disappeared behind the heavy curtains. Standing up and following her would have been useless. And considering the quality of the conversation, she probably had no reason to anyway. Aside, maybe, trying to see if the coach really existed, but she could live without that as well. The rest of the night was spent in a long and useless wait. None of the people she wanted to meet showed up. There were still a couple of hours before dawn – and the closure of the locale – when weariness started to have the upper hand on her, and Amanda decided it was time to go back home, even though this meant she had to visit again the following night. She had taken just a few steps outside when something cold and wet brushed her face, almost a light sting. Automatically she lifted her fingers to her cheek, surprised. Water. Instinctively she looked up, as if she could see anything but the night and the stars. She didn't, but another drop hit her on her left eyebrow, followed by another on the root of her nose. One after another, uncountable drops of water started drumming on the macadam. As absurd and impossible as it might seem, it was raining. CHAPTER 4 The following morning she got up in an even more wretched state than she had forcefully get used to lately. Being up late the night before hadn't helped for sure. Fortunately, lessons were still suspended, so she could take it easy and go looking for more useful information elsewhere. When she was awake enough, she left and went to the police headquarter. Although she had been there less than twenty-four hours earlier, the feeling was exactly the opposite of the one she had in the Underdark: it seemed like it was a totally different place from the one she had seen the day before. The building in itself hadn't changed, of course, but it seemed full of a frantic activity, too much even for a place like that. «May I help you?» asked an uniform breaking her train of thoughts. Weird it had even noticed her in all that confusion. Weird but good. «I would like to talk with detective...» right, what was his name? «... the one who is in charge of the homicide of Trey Parker.» «Please wait.» And she waited. It took longer than she had expected before the man showed up again. «I'm sorry, madam, it seems there is no such investigation.» Amanda stared, confused. She wanted to reply she was sure there was one, but she knew that the reply wouldn't change anything. Fortunately, she had a plan B. «May I talk to detective Stonehand, please?» «I think he is busy», the man answered with a regretful look. It seemed he was really sad for that. «I can wait. Just let him know Amanda Sheldon is here, please.» «As you wish.» The policeman walked away again and she sat on one of the chairs lined against the wall for anyone who was waiting his turn to talk to someone for whatever reason. They were so uncomfortable that she always thought they had been chosen on purpose to dishearten people more quickly, and keep time losses to the minimum. No one without a very serious reason would have wished to sit on one for more than a few minutes. She had a serious reason, though, or at least so she hoped, and forced herself to wait there, almost motionless, for a time that seemed endless. She was almost at the point where she could stand no more, already about to stand and renounce, when a man slightly taller than one meter appeared at the end of the corridor and started walking towards her. «Manda.» As far as she could remember, he was the only one calling her like that. «Today's not a good one. If you wanted to greet an old friend, you could do that yesterday while you were here.» Amanda looked at him. He had a formal tailored pearl-grey suit, and a pale blue buttoned shirt. The tie, matching the suit, was loosened and dangled obliquely. A very bad sign. «Sorry Shim, I wanted to but I was terribly late for work.» «Not late enough not to have time to molest two poor thieves who were only doing their job», he grunted. Amanda shrugged. She knew that, under the gruff tone and reproachful look, there was a pleased smile hidden. After all he was the one who had taught her to fight. «What's the emergency?» she asked, receiving an astonished look in return. «You must be the only one in the whole city who doesn't know. It rained last night.» No news here. Probably she was one of the first to have known, considering her close encounter with the rain while leaving the night club, and she had no doubt that it had been extremely unusual, but she didn't see how this could concern the police. Most of all she didn't understand how it could concern him, even though, thinking of it, it was obvious that if the police had to be concerned, he was the one who had to be front and center. Shim Stonehand had been for years the chief of the Magic Monitoring Department. Basically, they investigated on forbidden artifacts deals and violations of the magical code. A mistake in weather scheduling didn't seem too fitting for his job. But if anyone had to investigate, it could be no one but him. «Yes, I noticed», she answered without giving too many details «Shouldn't this be a problem for Weather Control? Since when scheduling mistakes are criminal?» «When was the last mistake in weather control?» he returned. «Let me think... wasn't there a lightning which struck a house in central town eight years ago?» «That was the High Prelate of Oon quarreling with his wife. And anyway, we aren't talking about a single event, Manda. Last night it rained on the whole city.» «OK, OK, it's absurd, but what does police have to do with it? For sure you don't think it was a deliberate act, it would be...» «It's not that we think it was. We know for sure.» Amanda stared at him and pushed back the end of her sentence. "Impossible", she was about to say. Weather control was one of the best protected businesses of the whole nation. Only a few mages were selected every year to join the ranks of the controllers, and they underwent all kinds of checks and investigations to make sure no rotten apple was allowed in, as well as signing a strict confidentiality agreement forbidding them, literally, to talk about their job or even mention what it was. No one but them knew the locations of the control stations, the places in which the properly set crystals amplified and routed the power towards the mage in charge, who determined and directed the weather manifestation proper, and furthermore each one only knew his own stations, not the whole set. This way, even if someone had quit the job and succeeded someway to pass on the information he had, before they were removed from their memories, only one station would have been compromised, and it would have been easy to replace it with a reserve, or bypass it as long as needed to fix the problem. Small-scale weather alterations were possible, for who possessed the proper knowledge and power. Within some boundaries it was even possible to do that without breaking the law. But changing the time on the whole city would require controlling the entire network, which was impossible, there was no other fitting definition. If even just one of the controllers hadn't channeled correctly the power needed to obtain such a result, the head controller wouldn't have been able to create it, would have noticed that something was wrong and informed the proper people, which had never happened so far, at least not that she knew. All mages concerned had to work in agreement for those things to work. It was unthinkable that all of them had decided to change the scheduling, especially since they didn't even know each other. Even if someone had been able to find each one of them and control them somehow, that would also have been useless. Weather crystal would not operate if the user was forced or controlled, and were able to detect any kind of external influence. «What are you talking about?» she was finally able to ask. He scowled. «Come to my office.» She followed him along the corridor. In spite of his shorter legs, he had always been faster than her, and to keep his pace she had no time to look around and see what was happening. She even wondered whether he was going that fast just to prevent her from meddling around. Shim entered his office, waited for her to do the same and closed the door, then pulled the curtain covering the glass panel on it. He reached the chair behind his desk and climbed on it, managing not to look ridiculous. The administration had never provided him dwarf-sized furniture, and he hadn't asked. «You know this is no business of yours», he told her as soon as she had sat. His tone was halfway between statement and question. «I also know you wouldn't make me run after you till here just to tell me nothing.» He sighed. «A few days ago, the governor received a threat. Madmen kind of stuff. It said the city was going to be destroyed by a hurricane unless...» «A hurricane?» «A hurricane. Unless...» «How much did he ask?» «It wasn't a request for money.» «No? Weird.» «Weird?» «No, actually not. Artifacts? Documents?» «Something of the sort.» «That is to say?» «Let's say that in order for the city to be safe he wanted us to deliver something I won't tell you anything more about.» «The kind of things in your job description?» He nodded. «It looked like the usual myth maniac stuff. You have no idea how much of that we get daily. At least, it looked like that until tonight.» «But there was no hurricane, it just rained. And not that much either.» «It was a demonstration, Manda. He announced it. And he added that, afterwards, we had to pay within twelve hours, which means we have...» «Until six p.m.», she stated after a brief calculation. «Exactly», Shim grunted in reply, not exactly pointing out that she seemed to know more than she should, still making it quite clear. «Do you think he can really do that?» «We're not sure, but we can't be sure he cannot either. Not after tonight.» «So?» «So that's it. I go back to my job, solve this problem, and if nothing goes wrong no one else will even suspect anything.» «I wasn't here for this anyway.» «No?» «Remember Trey Parker?» «The rector? The dead one?» «Mmm. Him. I wanted to speak to the detective in charge. I've been told there is no...» «He might be out investigating.» «... no case», she concluded. «They told me there are no investigations about that.» «If they said so, that must be true. I don't think the guys at homicide squad became so lazy as to close a case before even starting to investigate. Maybe they found out there was nothing odd.» «How exactly being found dead in the middle of a courtyard matches your "nothing odd"?» «I don't know yet. I'll see. I'll let you know. No promises though. I have more pressing matters at hand right now.» «I see. Thanks for your help.» «Anything for you...» «As long as I let you do your job.» «Something of the sort.» CHAPTER 5 It was quite clear that, in comparison with a weather crisis, a simple homicide became suddenly a lesser priority. Not to be forgotten, sure. Maybe to be delayed until after six p.m. Anyway, Shim was good at his job and there was no way she could help him with that problem, it was a bit out of her league, so it was better for her to worry just as much as necessary and keep carrying on her investigation, maybe trying to get some more answers and some less questions. In the last few hours she had already gathered so many of the latter that the rest of her life might not be enough to answer all of them. Especially if she had to keep that Vivienne into consideration. Then again, if Shim weren't able to prevent the destruction of the city by a hurricane, probably Vivienne would end up being right after all. But there wasn't much she could do to avoid that. For now, all she was able to do was asking someone else, while waiting to find out if she was going to survive the next few hours, and if she would still be able to go back to the Underdark. There was only another person she could visit, and she was for sure the least informed about what had happened. But this was something she would have been able to fix herself, fortunately. Seers were not very well considered by most of the world population, for a long list of reasons, all open to discussion. First and foremost the fact that, contrary to magic, seeing couldn't really be called an exact science. Each premonition, each prophecy, even the most precise, could prove to be completely useless if a wrong interpretation was given. Seers who could provide exact information, without any ambiguity, could be counted with the fingers of one hand, and even those were much less precise when it came to look into the future, which they described as continuously changing and impossible to know for sure. Of course there was also the problem that many known seers, especially the most famous ones, where actually con men, whose true job was telling people what they wanted to hear in exchange for overwhelming payments. Amanda, though, knew well the third, and much more important, reason: magicians were among the most important persons in society and they were absolutely, completely, irrevocably unable to see the future or the past. Admitting someone was able to succeed where they failed, especially someone who wasn't backed up by divine power or had the years of study necessary to excel in any of the Arts, someone who was what he was just for an obscure plan of fate, would undermine their believability. A very good reason to destroy that of seers and being safe, before running the risk of being sorry. This way, fake seers were able, with their silver tongues, to keep up a remarkable business, meeting with no serious resistance, as no magician would ever waste time discrediting someone who really had reason to be discredited, and to whom nobody really believed. True seers ended up having to work almost in disguise, mostly to do good and to use in some way the gifts they couldn't get rid of if they wanted, and only marginally to earn something from that. Amanda knew several seers of both kinds, but there was only one she trusted. Meaning she had enough trust in her not to be afraid she would try to dig some dark secret out of her mind. The few she had, she'd rather keep for herself. She stopped to buy something to eat along the way, then she went to Kate's place of work. It was, actually, a first-floor flat comprising only three rooms: an anteroom, a little study and a third one Amanda had never seen, and that she also thought could be a bathroom, a closet or both at the same time. Not that it was her business. She pushed the door, which caused a little bell to tingle, so softly it could hardly be heard. The anteroom was empty, but the curtains of the study were closed, which meant someone was in and she had to wait. The room, quite plain, was remarkably devoid of any of the weird decorations and odd items that could so easily be found in the studies of other kind of seers. There were four rows of chairs, two on the left and two at the right of the door, and two small tables displaying several magazines, ranging from classic gossip ones to specialized publication about seers. Once Amanda had tried reading one of the latter and she had felt like she had opened by mistake a paper coming from another world. She hadn't tried again since, only looking every once in a while at something less abstract and not too gossipy. She hadn't been there long when the curtains opened and a short, large and quite bald man – almost like the extra-large version of a gnome – came out. The expression on his face was unreadable. Had he received good news? Bad ones? Neither of those? Amanda virtually shrugged. She had other thoughts at the moment. She stood up and went to the other room, barely noticing the bell meaning that the little man was going out. Kate's study was less than half the anteroom. The walls were covered by light-blue drapes, creating sort of a relaxing mood. There were several bookshelves, but it took moving the drapes aside to see what was in them. The few titles peeking out between curtains were all about seeing, and Amanda could easily imagine that their contents were even more alien than those of the magazines on the tables. A round table was in the center of the room, this too covered with a light-blue cloth. In front of it there was a chair, behind it there was Kate, sitting, all intent in gathering some cards scattered in front of her. She looked as sober as her anteroom, and she had nothing to spare with the typical image of the commercial seer. No veils, no ridiculously oversize or elaborate clothes, no noticeable jewelry, no colors assailing the onlookers. She wore a simple beige suit, which collar was barely brushed by her brown hair, long just enough to cover the neck and not much more. When she looked up to see who was there, a smile lit her features. «Mandy! So nice to see you!» she exclaimed, then a worried stare crossed her face «Did you sleep?» «Not much and not good. Did you see that in your cards?» «No, in your circled eyes.» Amanda smiled. «Lately I get up more tired than I was when I went to bed. Maybe it's the season.» «Quite weird, the season. Did you hear about yesterday night rain?» «Firsthand I'd say. I got home I was almost dripping.» «You? Really?» «Why?» she asked, not seeing what her friend meant by that «What's weird? Do you think I'm waterproof?» «Waterproof, no. Lazy, yes. What were you doing out so late at night? No... what where you doing out so early in the morning? Is there a man involved? Let me see...» she reached out to turn one of her cards «Hands off!» Amanda replied, almost laughing «Another time, maybe, I'll give you the details... today I'm here for business.» «Yours or mine?» «Yours.» «Fine then. I didn't do my homework.» She laughed. «Well then... sit down and tell me everything. What do you want to talk about? Love? Work? Money?» she winked «... sex?» «Death.» Kate's features dropped. «Are you sure you chose the right person?» «Do you know Trey Parker.» «Trey... Parker... who? No, wait, wait, you must have mentioned him... a colleague of yours?» «More or less. He's dead.» «Ah, sorry about that. How?» «That's the point. I believe he was killed, but I don't know much, and the police doesn't seem to care too much.» «I see... but I'm not sure I can help. It's not even something that concerns you directly...» «You're not going to chastise me now...» «No, really. I meant it's more difficult to see something for someone who is not involved. It would be easier if he were here... but then I wouldn't be, I'm not really eager to read cards to a corpse.» Amanda shrugged. «Whatever you're able to tell me, it will still be more than I know now.» «As you like», Kate replied as she shuffled the deck of cards and placed it on the table. «You know how it works.» Instinctively Amanda reached out with her right hand to cut the deck, then stopped in midair before even brushing it. She pulled her hand back and cut the deck with the left before Kate could say anything. The seer reassembled the deck and started putting some cards on the table. As usual, Amanda tried to decipher the expressions crossing her face as she looked at them. As usual, she failed. «It seems there is a man after all», Kate said suddenly. «Hey! Don't change the subject! That's not what I asked you to see!» «Indeed I didn't mean that. ... ah, is really one there?» she grinned «... may we go back to the cards?» «Yeah, yeah... I was saying there is a man... more than one actually. Any chance your colleague was somehow involved with magic? I mean directly.» «Parker? No... I don't think so, at least. It's not like I really knew him so well, but he didn't strike me like a magician.» «Strange. Still...» «What do you see?» «Someone who is dead or about to die. But it seems he's a magician. And someone in the shadows, a manipulator. I'm not really helping, am I?» «Still better than nothing.» «It's just that the reading isn't very clear, there's something hazy in these cards.» Amanda had no troubles believing her. That wasn't the first time she had Kate read cards for her, and usually she was anything but vague. «I think that your colleague knew something he shouldn't have» she said at once, as if struck by a sudden enlightenment. «Might he have been killed for this reason?» «Maybe. I can't be sure. But I am quite sure you're putting yourself in a very complicated situation.» «Did you need the cards to know that?» Amanda smiled like a kid caught red-handed stealing chocolate. «Having a confirmation never hurts. Really,» she changed subject without a pause, «if he had been a magician, these cards would make much more sense.» «I'm quite sure he wasn't... but let's pretend otherwise, what would they have meant?» «That he lost control of something... someone... and wasn't ready to face the consequences.» «Someone? Hypnosis? Mind control?» «I'd rather say summoning.» «Summonings are forbidden.» «Did this ever stop anyone?» «Might make sense.» «Did you just remember that your Parker used to summon students when they skipped lessons?» «He wasn't my Parker, and he had no lessons so I think that would have been useless... Thanks for all, I have to hurry?» «There's something you don't want to tell me...» «Maybe. Maybe not. I have to check. How much do I owe you?» «Are you joking? And... wait a second, don't move.» Leaving Amanda no time to reply, Kate stood up and disappeared into the closet-bathroom or bathroom-closet or whatever it was. Amanda was about to stand up in turn when she saw her come back. A flat round object, no more than ten centimeters wide, dangled from a string in her hand. It was a wooden circlet inside which many little strings where knitted in an elaborate pattern, almost like a web. From the outer brim some feathers and beads dangled. A true dream catcher. There weren't many around. «Take this.» said Kate handing it to her. «Should this help me to find the killer?» «No, to sleep better. A client of mine gave it to me as a gift long ago... for the time being I think you need it more than me.» «Well... thanks. I'll return it.» Kate shrugged. «I'll probably sleep well anyway.» Amanda took the dream catcher and examined it, losing herself for a second in its patterns. It was too fragile to put it into a pocket, but the string it was attached to made a loop, so she could wear it around her neck, letting it slide under her pullover. CHAPTER 6 She wasn't yet in the street when she started rummaging into her bag, looking for the communication crystal. It took her some time to fish it out. It was a flat, oval stone, larger than the palm of her hand, in a stupid shade of pink. Even though she knew that latest versions were able to store the same power in a much smaller crystal, and even though she really hated that color, she had never made up her mind to change it. Although a new crystal would have been lighter and easier to carry around, it wouldn't have been as easy to single out among the many knick knacks she used to bring along, especially if she was in a hurry... nor as good when it came the need to use the bag as a blunt weapon. If some day a new one which could be activated without physical contact was made, for sure she would buy it. Too bad that, as poor as her understanding of magic was, she knew it was really unlikely. She was finally starting to understand, though vaguely, what was happening, and now she could no longer go on on her own, not without a little help at least. She held the crystal in her hand a little more than needed and focused her thought towards the person she wanted to reach, hoping he hadn't disabled his in spite of the situation. A detective should always be reachable, shouldn't he? "Shim, that's Amanda." Nothing. "Come on, Shim, answer!" "Manda, it's not a good moment", the dwarf's voice rang loud and clear in her head as if he were right next to her. "Whatever you are doing let go, barricade into your house and stay safe, everything is going for the worst." "Just a second, Shim..." "A second more? By the way, your rector, that Parker... heart stroke, no homicide." "Are you sure?" Amanda was quite certain that Parker had died in his office and brought outside afterwards. If his had been a natural death, who would bother dumping him in the courtyard instead of calling for help? "Can't it have been caused by someone?" "No. Autopsy revealed no traces of drugs, poisons or spells. Now I really have to..." "Wait, wait, wait... you have a list of weather controllers, don't you?" Silence. At least he hadn't broken the contact. "I guess you do. And I suppose you wouldn't give it to me." "Not for the life of me." "And for the life of a lot of other people?" "Manda..." "Listen, we need to keep them under surveillance, they are..." "What do you think my men have been doing ever since the first threat came in?" True. Shim for sure didn't need her advices when it came to police business. The problem was that he didn't know what he was looking for. Neither did she, frankly, but she was beginning to get there. "At least could you tell me if anyone of them is used to make summonings?" "Are you kidding? He would have been fired long ago!" "Then someone who was fired for that...?" Silence again. Amanda was about to push when Shim anticipated her. "One." Obviously he had checked somewhere before answering. "And you can tell me who he is." Hers wasn't a question. "I could, but what are you planning? Anyway he doesn't remember a thing, you know how it works." "I know how it should work. Come on, Shim, what does it matter?" "Go home Manda." "How do you know I'm not?" "I'm a detective, remember?" "Give me his name and address and I promise I will go." "You will go home." "Yes." "No, I want you to say it." "I promise that if you give me that name and address I will go home and lock myself in, OK now?" Even though sighs couldn't be broadcast telepathically, Amanda was sure Shim had sighed right before sending her the name and address he must have recovered from his archives. "Perfect, its along the way", she lied. "I will visit while I go back home. See you!" She absently throw the crystal back into the bag and set out. "Manda! Man..." «Damn it!» Shim slapped his desk with a hand, making it tremble. That girl was going to get herself in trouble. Again. He wasn't really worried about the fact that she was going to act like a lunatic at the home of a magician. One with a criminal record, sure, but basically harmless. That was nothing. The real problem was that if... when... the threats of the blackmailer where going to become true, she would have been in the middle of the street, and of the raging hurricane. He couldn't send someone from his squad to look for her, they were much too busy trying to save the day, or what could be saved of it. He had to go himself, or prepare to feel guilty for her death for the rest of his life. And even though he didn't know where she was, he knew well where she was going to be soon. Using the portal of the central was out of the question, there were too many explanations to give, and he didn't have any real justification. It would take too much time on foot. That left only one thing. «You're going to pay for this Manda. Dearly.» He jumped down the chair and left his office, telling his men he was going without even stopping by. He quickly reached the deposit and barked «Two-seater, and fast» to the agent in charge, who stood staring for a second, with an astonished look on his face. Shim Stonehand was a detective, had all permits needed to ask for a vehicle at any time. Of course this wasn't what troubled the keeper. The point was that, as far as anyone could remember, Shim had never, for any reason, asked for one. A scowl from the detective shook the agent from his torpor and urged him to give the dwarf a small light-blue roll, looking like a rolled-up gym mat. Shim took it, murmuring something unintelligible, then left and went to the roof. There he unrolled the mat, which lazily fell to the floor, and sit on it, struggling to find a position he deemed fit. Finally, he knelt, bent forward and put the palms of his hands on the mat as well. «There, go old trap!» Nothing happened. He sighed again. He knew that was not how it worked, but that would have been more satisfying. Without saying a word, he focused on the latex rectangle under him, which suddenly seemed to stiffen and then started floating at a few centimeters from the rooftop. Shim swallowed hard, then directed the carpet towards the sky. Even though he knew there was no way he could fall, he felt the need of something to grip. He sincerely hoped that all that was going to help preventing Amanda from getting herself killed. So he could kill her himself later for forcing him to fly to her rescue. He had always thought that if gods had wanted dwarfs to fly, they would have been born with wings. The address Shim had given her wasn't very far from Kate's, even though it was in the opposite direction than her home. However she was sure that Shim wasn't really expecting her to keep a promise he had forced her to make in such a way. Or did he? No, he knew her too well to believe such a thing. Once she was there, she found herself in front of a building which had seen better times. It didn't look like someone could really live in there. Did Shim gave her false information? She walked anyway into the narrow path, leading to an abandoned-looking courtyard and towards the front of a short and stocky building, which scraped walls looked like they could crumble down at any moment. No, Shim didn't lie to her. If he had wanted to send her looking for nothing, he would have made sure not to chose such a bad place. The doorway of the building seemed to be a slab of rust kept together by good will. In spite of this, it was closed. Amanda tried to open it and it shrieked like a badly slaughtered beast. Then it gave way all at once, turning around a few degrees in a rain of brittle red chips. Amanda pushed once again, to no avail. It seemed it wasn't going to move any more. She had to crawl between the door and the frame, trying to press herself as much as she could to the latter. Her pullover got stuck several times, getting unthreaded and rust-covered in places. After that, it was going straight to the garbage can. Finally she succeeded and was able to see that the inside of the building wasn't any better than the outside. An almost nauseating smell of mold owned the small atrium. A mix of water and plaster fell at regular times from the ceiling, and the walls where patched with an odd white hairy thing creating weird patterns. On one side there was the shaft of a lift. The crystal which made it work was in place. Unlit. She didn't even try to make it work, the last thing she needed was trying to go upstairs and finding out too late that there was power enough only to go halfway, seeing the disc disappear from under her feet and going back to the bottom floor in the fastest and less healthy of ways. So she accepted the fact that she had to use stairs, and soon she was at the door of the flat she was trying to reach. No one answered when she knocked. No kind of noise was coming from inside. She hadn't gotten there just to give up at the first sign of trouble, though. She knocked again and again with no better result, then she bent to examine the lock. She wasn't a professional at lock picking, but she knew some things to be used in case of need, and she didn't really think that such an old and decadent place could have worthy locks. Actually, she didn't even have to try anything: as soon as she leaned on the door for a closer look, it clicked with a metallic noise and opened, almost making her fall face first inside. «Mr. Marsten?» she heard herself calling, not sure why. If that man was hiding somewhere with all but good intentions, for sure he wasn't going to mellow up just because she was calling him, neither he was going to wait if he was trying to slope off. The inside of the flat was barely better than all the rest. Maybe a little cleaner, for sure a little tidier. The smell wasn't any better though. A mixture of less-than-pleasant fragrances impregnated it. It was the smell of a house that didn't intake fresh air very often, but not just that. There was a nauseating sweet smell, that only partly covered not less disgusting stinks, and a background aroma that she could only identify as "smell of sex". The main room was a small dinette, containing a table with a single chair, some suspended cupboards and a small stove. A closet was almost completely opened, at its feet a small heap of rotten food, piled as if someone had forcibly pushed it out. The crystal of the closet hadn't been reloaded in a while, obviously, and it had expelled its contents. If there had been more things inside, there would have been food all over the room. Then again, someone who kept a lot of food in store was usually not so careless with reloading. Amanda went through the room more carefully than she really needed to. No one could have been hiding in there, unless he was extremely small or invisible, in which case no amount of care could help her anyway. She opened the door dividing that room from the rest of the house, and entered a small, smelling bedroom. Her attention was inevitably drawn by the owner of the house, lying naked on something that, with a good dose of optimism, could have been called a bed. Even at that distance she could see his lost gaze, which left her no doubt about the fact that he wasn't really sleeping. There was Kate's dead magician. She quickly looked around. The room was almost empty. Two doors on opposite sides lead to a little bathroom and a wardrobe respectively. They were both ajar and it was quite unlikely that someone was hiding inside, unless they were right behind one of the doors themselves. In that case, anyway, they wouldn't have been able to get out without closing the door and then opening it again, which would have left her plenty of time to react as needed. Her mind simply refused the idea that someone could be hidden under the bed. She approached the corpse quietly and touched his neck with two fingers to make sure he was actually dead. The contact wasn't pleasant. His skin was saggy and vaguely wet, and even though it hadn't yet started to decay, it didn't seem like it would take much longer. The expression on his face was that mixture of tiredness and pleasure typical of someone who has just experienced a very fulfilling sexual encounter, at least from his point of view. There weren't any wounds or signs on the body, nothing that could explain his death. She carefully searched it for byte marks, though she didn't think she would find any. Even as he was, he looked too rosy to be the victim of a vampire. Kate had mentioned an out-of-control summoning, but what could kill a man like that? There was a picture trying to take shape in her head, too misty to give her an answer. Still an answer had to exist, and it shouldn't be too far. A magician would never part from his tools, and unless that particular magician had another place in which he performed his spells – and seeing the place he lived in, that was at least unlikely – she should have found them in the flat. She went to the wardrobe. No one jumped out from behind the door, which pleased her. Inside there were a few clothes and a ceremonial tunic, easily the best-kept item in the whole house. A shelf housed some books, a few jars and a box like the ones normally used to keep plied shirts. She was already reaching out to take the tomes when she realized what she was doing and stopped still. No worthy magician would ever leave his spellbooks without any kind of protection, and the fact that she didn't see any was just another reason to be sure there were. She had to call Shim and ask him to go there with an expert. Provided there was still time for that. She opened her bag, thrust one hand inside, and just then the window of the room exploded, hurling glass shards all around. Amanda screamed, jumped backward and knocked her head against the back wall of the wardrobe, fortunately shielded by the clothes inside. She couldn't imagine what could have been of her if she hadn't been in there. Then again, she thought looking at the body on the bed – turned into a weird kind of hedgehog by the shards sticking out of his flesh – she could imagine it all too well. She risked to look out, barely poking out from her relatively safe place. A twisted metal sheet had appeared just below the windowsill, after coming in through the glass. She couldn't understand what it was, but she had no trouble understanding how he had gotten there. For that, she only had to listen to the icy howling of the wind coming through the window. She'd never heard anything like that, and it seemed to get louder and stronger by the minute. She thought she felt a slight vibration under her feet. Was it possible that the building couldn't stand the wind blasts? Maybe not... or more likely yes, considering its conditions. Anyway, she really had no intention to stay there and find it out by herself. CHAPTER 7 She ran down the stairs as if her life was at stake, which might actually be the case as far as she knew. Once in the atrium, she found out that the wind had succeeded where she had failed, and now the rusted door was wide open and almost unhinged. Chilly blasts swept away the dust, howling like hungry wolves. Amanda launched herself toward the doorway, only to be pushed back by the wind. She had to grasp the frame of the door not to fall down, and pull herself out with the strength of her arms, but once there the situation got no better. She found herself pushed against the wall, breathless, and for an endless instant she thought she was going to suffocate, until she was able to turn her head and finally breathe again. Obviously she wasn't going anywhere like that. She thought that maybe it would have been better to go back in, and at least make use of the feeble protection of those unstable walls. She was about to do that when a crash from within drew her attention, as a large chunk of plaster fell down from the roof, filling the atrium of a whitish cloud, quickly dissolved by the wind. What was better? Being carried away by the wind or buried alive in an abandoned building? Hard choice. The small but strong arm that caught her from under an armpit, lifting her bodily, startled her. Her scream got lost in the wind at first, then could clearly be heard when she was suddenly flung into a little quiet oasis. «Stop shouting or I push you back down», a very familiar voice grunted. Amanda turned to see Shim scowling at her. In spite of the constant whistle of the wind all around, his voice had reached her clearly, thanks to the invisible bubble which surrounded the carpet, shielding them from the awful weather. «I thought you hated flying», she said, confused, surprised, but most of all happy to see him there. «I hope you will still remember when I tell you what I think of this bravado of yours», he replied. «Now we have to go away from here quickly.» He was right. Flying carpets where enchanted so that they protected their passengers against bad weather conditions, but they weren't designed to fly in an hurricane, and soon the protection would fade out, considering the hard challenge it was facing. «Were are we going?» she asked. «Central!» he replied quickly before concentrating again on piloting. They raised, even though all but steadily. The carpet was violently flung around, and even though its magic kept them on board, it looked like they could be thrown away at any moment, so much that Amanda flattened herself as much as possible on it, as if this could somehow protect her from what was happening. Around them, the hurricane unleashed its fury. She didn't think she'd ever seen something like that in her life. Rain had started pouring, and now the wind was pushing towards them compact bodies of water which looked almost like waves. The carpet seemed to be floating in water rather than flying, like an odd surfboard facing higher waves than it had been designed for. The sky was black, engulfed by clouds crowding together like people trying to conquer the front line in the audience of a concert, though the show they wanted to see was quite different. A violent blast almost made the carpet topple over, and left Amanda wondering what would happen if it did. She didn't think the magic would be of any help against gravity in that case, and probably they would crash on the street below, or maybe be flung away by the wind alone. Shim looked calm and self-assured. In truth he was just entirely focused on what he was doing, all of his efforts taken by the task of keeping the carpet steady and preventing the contents of his stomach to come back the way it had gone in. He would have cut a very poor figure if he had retched, but most of all he wasn't sure he could be able to pilot and vomit at the same time, and it was this thought which helped him the most to keep his last lunch down. «There!» Amanda's scream drew his attention on a dark shape moving towards them. He pulled up the carpet abruptly, just in time to avoid a door which must have been stripped away from some house and was now floating freely, waiting to crash against something or someone. He heard a muffled thump as it hit the rear edge of the carpet, which steered unexpectedly and almost made him lose control. The air was getting wet even in there, and some raindrops were already pushing their way through the barrier, a clear sign that it was about to stop existing at all. Reaching the headquarters was unthinkable, they had to find a nearby place to stop to, and stay there until the weather improved. If it was ever going to. «Down there!» Amanda shouted again, trying to show him something he couldn't see at first. Then he noticed. At their right there was a place in which clouds seemed to be thinner, as if there was an area the hurricane wasn't hitting. He immediately steered in that direction, hoping it was really the case and that they could be able to be there before the protection of the carpet was completely broken. When they got there, it was like breaking a barrier between two different worlds. The carpet poked out of the storm in a zone that seemingly had been left untouched by it, not even brushed by the wind. There they would have been safe, if they hadn't been a second too late. The magic of the carpet gave way completely, and a sudden burst of wind grabbed it and threw it away, towards the safety they were looking for, but not the way they wanted to go there. Shim did his best to stay in control, and almost succeeded, but it wasn't enough. The carpet crashed to the ground, making Amanda roll away and sending the dwarf headfirst against a tree. She was the first to get up. She was confused and hurting, she probably had bruises in places she hadn't even known the sheer existence of so far, but she was alive. She look around, searching for Shim, and in doing that she finally realized where she was: in front of the university. Then she saw the dwarf, collapsed against the trunk of one of the trees lining the courtyard. She rushed to check if he was fine. He was unconscious and had a vicious cut on his forehead – the collision must have been quite hard to do such damage to his hard skull – but at least he was breathing. There wasn't much she could do for him but pulling him to a covered place before wind and rain got there as well. Neither she had a lot to say about the place to choose: the university seemed to be the only building the hurricane wasn't hitting. The actual problem was how to get in, but that she would worry about once she was there. She lifted the dwarf from his armpits, trying not to shake him too much, and started pulling, surprised by his heavy weight. She could only take a few steps before she had to surrender to the truth: she wasn't going anywhere like that. Then her gaze fell on the carpet, heaped not too far. She hurriedly fetched it and managed to pull Shim on it, then she grabbed one edge and started pulling again. The weight wasn't changed, obviously, but this way she was able to move him more easily, so much so that she reached the stairway to the entrance. Then the carpet became useless, and she had to lift the dwarf little by little, step by step, to the archway. She got there breathless, ready to look for something with which to break a window and enter. To her big surprise, she didn't need to. The door was closed, but unlocked. Even though she didn't understand, she wasn't going to complain. She opened it and brought in Shim, who didn't seem about to wake up. She rolled the carpet and set it under his head. Now she needed to find something to cover him. In the basement there were sheets used every now and then to cover desks and furniture. They weren't the best choice, but there was nothing else she could think of, so she headed to the stairs, opened the basement door and stood there astonished for a sight she would never have been able to foresee. The center of the room had been almost completely emptied, and now there stood a large metal frame in which several crystals were mounted. In the middle of it, a man wearing a ceremonial tunic. He stood with his arms open and flung upward, and she could almost hear power crackling around him as he murmured barely audible and completely unintelligible words. Crystals were reacting to whatever he was doing, pulsing with a dark and regular light, like a huge heart beating in the chest of a giant. Something that looked like the before-unheard crossbreed between light and smoke was spiraling away from the frame, rising to the ceiling where it seemed to disappear. Even though she had never seen something of the like, she didn't need anyone to suggest her what it was. After all it couldn't just be an accident that the university was right in the middle of the quiet zone. The man seemed to be so absorbed in what he was doing that he was unaware of her presence. Amanda stood for a while, uncertain about what to do. She had no idea of what could happen if she interrupted the magician, but she didn't think things could be any worse than they already were. She unsheathed her wand, that she had managed not to lose this time. It was very much alike the ones carried along by police officers: its bolts stunned their targets but caused no permanent damages. She took aim and was about to shoot when a sensual voice whispered «Don't.» CHAPTER 8 Amanda turned. There seemed to be a whole world trapped someway in that simple word. In her whole life, she didn't think she'd ever heard a voice like that... and actually she still wasn't hearing it, because it didn't reach her ears, she perceived it at a much deeper level. It wasn't even like telepathy, it was something completely different, just as if, in some way, although she hadn't heard anything, she just knew what had been said, and with such a clarity that no form of communication she knew could convey. Not far from her stood a woman she'd never seen before. She was tall, slim, full of a grace no simple mortal could possess. Long blond hair framed her face and body, embracing her in soft spires which seemed to flow around her as if they had a life of their own. Her features expressed a sensuality that was out of that world. Her long and dark eyelashes surrounded eyes that seemed to have all existing colors and no color at all at the same time. Her lips where soft and full, slightly parted in a smile showing white and perfect teeth. A dark violet dress covered her body from the lower part of her full and well proportioned breast to the ankles, fitting perfectly her exquisitely carved hips and barely brushing her delicate feet, wearing simple heelless sandals. «Who are you?» Amanda asked. She had wanted to say something wittier, and she would have if she hadn't been startled by the presence of that woman more than by that of the magician. «Let go of the wand», she answered, barely moving her lips. She mustn't really need to, as she wasn't making any sound. It almost looked like she did that to be more believable. For a second Amanda strongly felt the desire to humor her, just for a second. Instead she aimed the wand at her and let go a bolt with a simple act of will. A light-blue lightning left the tip of the metal cylinder and hit its target, apparently with no effect of any sort. «Let it go, you don't need it», the woman reiterated, disregarding the fact that she had just been hit, as she moved a few steps in her direction. «Trust me.» As she approached, her features started to change. It wasn't a gradual transition: in-between one step the woman was replaced by a man. He had short, black hair and was wearing black trousers as fitting as a second skin, matching soft boots and a shirt halfway between blue and dark green, unbuttoned on his slightly bronze chest. The only things he had in common with the woman where the indescribable eyes and the charm they both radiated. But it was none of this that hit Amanda like a tidal wave, it was a weird déjà-vu feel that swept over her suddenly. She knew that man, she'd seen it before. At the station, briefly, the evening of the day Parker had been killed... even though that wasn't the first time. Meaningless images clustered her mind, untouchable sensations like the ones sometimes felt in... dreams! She had dreamed of him! Like threads of water opening their way through a dam, spare memories surfaced in her mind. She was remembering dreams she had canceled even before waking up, which had tormented each of her nights of the last days. Dreams that should have been pleasant but actually were... dirty... rotten. That's what Vivienne had tried to tell her in her twisted way... Marsten had been so fool as to summon an incubus... a being that hadn't walked the world for centuries. That explained a lot of things, other than saying that that magician had a great power and an even greater idiocy. Amanda was almost sure he had summoned the incubus – or, better, the succubus, as that's what it had to be, although they were but two sides of the same coin – thinking he could use her as a sex slave with no consequences. In truth she had fed on it until he was dead. Because that was what incubi did, they eat humans almost like vampires, just in a slightly less detectable way, not stealing their blood but draining their life force during sex. Surely way more pleasant than a bite on the neck, but not less lethal. That his lust had brought him death was almost pitiful. That the being had been able to take from his mind, most likely in dreams, the information about Weather Control that had supposedly been removed from his memories was almost a tragedy. It shouldn't have been difficult then to reach the weather station in which Marsten had worked and find the controller who had replaced him, seduce him and earn his love, as blind as delusional. How she had been able to find out the names of other controllers and enchant them one after another, finally reaching the one in charge, the magician she had brought at the university, was not clear at all, but some way she had. Amanda didn't know those beings enough to be sure of the powers they could command. Meanwhile, she had found her... she had fed on her, trough her dreams. That explained her tiredness, her inability to rest. Evidently her nature, not entirely human, allowed her to resist, to avoid being drained completely like the summoner had been... and it allowed him... that being... to keep strong as he was carrying on his plan. The rest was easy to understand. The incubus had had to find a place in which to build a facsimile of the control frame used by the head controller to gather the power. He couldn't use the real one, because he couldn't get in, no matter what his powers were, and he had to stay close to his victim to be sure he did what he wanted. Seducing someone and stealing his endless loyalty didn't include the ability to order him around from a distance, how sad! How he had been able to build one, and what had been Parker's role in all that, were questions most likely doomed to be unanswered. Did Parker found out anything and got killed for that? Or was he implied in all this? For sure he would have been able to put together that frame, having the proper information. Maybe he had been killed to eliminate an uncomfortable witness. Or maybe he had changed his mind and tried to get out. Was that the meaning of the fable book in his study? A hint left there for someone who could understand it, just in case things got for the worst? The light touch of the creature's fingers on the skin of her face startled her. When had it gotten so close? «Let go», it said. «You know me. You know what I can do.» Did her? Maybe. She'd rather not ask herself. Its voice, or whatever it passed for a voice, was warm and sensual, wrapping her like a blanket in a cold winter night. She could embrace it and let herself go into its warmth, accept it and be lost in it. She could, but she wasn't going to. It didn't matter what had happened in the dreams she still didn't remember clearly, things were different when she was awake. There was only one thing she had inherited from her mother, and she had never been as happy about that. Seduction charms didn't work on her, maybe because she came from one herself. Her mother – she had seen her only once in her life, and in spite of the outcome of that meeting she still couldn't think about her in any other way – was part of the ancient and devious fairy people. A people with no males. To reproduce, fairies didn't have much choice, and their best method was embracing simple humans, too weak-blooded to pollute their own lineage. Sometimes that happened on mutual consent. More often, as in her case, a fairy had a short-lived crush for a human male and ensnared him with her arts to obtain what she wanted. In both cases, those unions wouldn't last long, and almost often gave birth to a new life. And when a fairy gave birth that way, only two things could happen. Usually she bore a fairy, a female of course. Rarely a male was born, completely human, which was left with his male parent with no remorse or regret. Amanda was the third chance. The impossible one. «Don't touch me!» she roared, in fury, as she pushed the incubus away, placing her hands against its chest. Caught off-guard, the creature fell backwards, and she seized the moment to point her wand and hit it again, and again, and again. She hoped that, even though her first bolt had proved completely useless, a barrage could at least succeed in dazzling it. It wiped away her hopes with a smile. «It could have been pleasurable», it said, a slight sarcasm in its no-voice. «You made your choice.» Its body seemed to melt, as if it was suddenly becoming liquid. The wave that started moving towards her, tough, wasn't liquid at all, but crawling, made up by an apparently endless number of spiders. Did incubi have such powers? As far as she could remember, they shouldn't. Their ability to change their features was supposed to be fairly limited. Shapechanging wasn't one of their gifts, and splitting into more creatures should have been completely out of the equation. What she was seeing had to be some kind of illusion. She did her best to convince herself of that, to no good. Real or illusionary, spiders scared her to death. Was it the way it had killed Parker, having him face his deepest fears? She didn't know, and right then she didn't want to, she just wanted to be elsewhere. Although she knew it was useless, she hit several times with her wand the river of arachnids moving towards her, until nothing more happened and she realized she was out of charges. The spiders started to climb her shoes, going up her legs in spite of her frantic attempts to sweep them away. In a moment she was completely covered by a pulsating dark mass, unable even to scream, for fear that the creatures could crawl into her mouth. Then a thunder-like sound could be heard, and suddenly the spiders were no more. Amanda and the incubus turned simultaneously towards the noise. Something heavy had hit one of the windows facing the road, while the howl of the wind, so far just a distant background noise, could now be heard clearly. The hurricane was approaching. Amanda knew there were only a few things that could break the grip of an incubus on its victims. Seeing the object of your desire perform a sex change in front of you seemed to be one of those, and the spiders must have been the finishing touch. The magician had regained enough of his self control to decide and react in the only way he could, by shaping the power the other controllers were broadcasting, and call the hurricane to him, instead of keeping it at large from the building as he had been doing so far. It was just a temporary distraction – the incubus had already reshaped itself in its female features, and the dazed expression was back on its victim's face – but anyway it had broken the illusion and given Amanda a chance. She seized it for a desperate measure, afraid it would be useless but hoping it wouldn't. She ripped off from her neck the amulet Kate had given her, and threw it against the incubus. Exceeding her best hopes, the dream catcher proved faithful to its very name. As soon as it touched it, the incubus dissolved into a puff of mist, which then seemed to be sucked into the crossed strings of the amulet and disappear into it, forever imprisoned, or maybe sent back to the places it belong to, from which it should have never been summoned. EPILOGUE The damages made by the hurricane were large. Its victims, fortunately, just a few. Police had done its best to inform the people of what was going to happen – as soon as it had been clear that there was no chance to stop it – and to help those who couldn't find a safe harbor in time. The count of those few included Thomas Marsten, first victim as well as prime cause of it all. It seemed that the safety measures used by Weather Control weren't good enough to detect the influence an incubus could exert on a living being. After all, considering how long ago the last incubus had been summoned from the land of dreams, that lack could almost be understood. It wouldn't be if they didn't promptly improved the systems to prevent anything like that to happen again. For what concerned Parker, Amanda decided not to deny the official theory of his natural death. If he were guilty, he had paid more than enough. If he weren't, there were no reason to throw mud on his memory hinting he could have been. Then there was the hugest question: what was it that the incubus wanted so much as to do all that? Shim didn't want to tell her, and since he had saved her life, almost losing his in the attempt, she hadn't insisted. But she was sure she would find out. Sooner or later. THE AUTHOR Carmelo Massimo Tidona, employee, writer and translator in his spare time, has been reading and writing since as long as he can remember. Some of his short stories have been published in various anthologies. For 0111edizioni Carmelo Massimo Tidona published: “Trittico Oscuro”, collection of urban fantasy tales (2009, Italian). “Riflessi d’Ombra”, urban fantasy novel (2009, Italian) Follow the author on Facebook