Baroness: Chapter Two:
April came with unpredictable weather. The first day was awarded with an out-of-season typhoon that pelted the city with an icy rain, carried by a howling wind. After a day of calm weather, a low pressure in the south resulted in an unexpected snow storm from the north. The weekend came with a wind chill that numbed deep into the bones.
The abnormal weather meant an impromptu vacation for many. Businesses and government offices closed, citing travel risks due to weather conditions. The roads were icy, and some power lines were down. People stayed home and spent time on the internet trying to figure out the reasons behind this bizarre extension of winter.
For the unfortunate few, however, vacation was not an option. The Archaeological Society, a secretive branch of the government that investigated the paranormal, was run by a man who viewed work as holy and opened the office despite the knee-high snow. He gave explicit orders for his workers to stay home if they wished, but not without letting them know that the person who determined their financial compensation would be working.
Yoko, the foxy blonde of the Society and member of the Church, was not one to be outdone. Normally, she would have huddled close to a space heater, chatting with her sister on the phone about the latest celebrity breakups. Instead, Yoko got up during the wee hours of the morning to prepare for the day's work. She got into her little commuter car, and drove (as slowly as possible so as not to slide on the ice) to the nondescript warehouse in the industrial district of town.
Yoko felt silly as she cruised into to the empty parking lot and felt the biting cold when she opened the car door. There were puffs of smoke as she breathed. Why was she at work anyways? The sun wasn't completely up. There was enough desk work and vacation time that she could have spent the day in the coziness of her apartment doing either. It wasn't like Genya would be impressed by the hours she put in either; she was competing against Genya, the human machine.
Still, Genya was not inhuman, as he had demonstrated that one night at Gion where they drank together. In fact, Yoko suspected that Genya worked so hard so he could forget the fact that he was human, with all too human emotions.
That night at the Gion was over half a year ago, though. After the expensive dinner they had together, Genya acted as if that blasphemous confession of memories never occurred. Yoko kept her vow and never uttered a word to anyone about Genya's display of humanity . She went back to her bantering self. He went back to his stone-cold sober self.
The security card reader beeped as Yoko opened the heavy back entrance door. She stepped inside quickly before the door closed with a forceful slam.
The warehouse was the same temperature as outside, minus the wind chill. There were tools and relics littering the warehouse. A stash of silver spears was stacked neatly in a corner, next to hunting stakes and holy water, while cabinets filled with paper spells, along with mundane stationary, lined the walls; the company limo was parked inside, unused since the cardinals visited last. In particular though, there was one large air-conditioned freight box, not unlike the ones seen on rail cars. Like most freight boxes, it was a rusted red color with chipped paint and corroded hinges. Glancing at the freight box, Yoko was reminded of one of her minor but important tasks. Making a mental note, Yoko walked quickly to the parsed out areas that made up the office space in the Spartan warehouse.
As expected, the lights and heater were already turned on. Coffee and tea were made but not touched. The communal TV showed the latest news reel. On the fax machine, requests had already come in from the Church. On the receptionist's desk was a pile of mail. Yoko, still somewhat tired, proceeded directly to the coffee like a zombie.
"Global warming my ass. It's far too cold to be April," Yoko groused as she warmed her hand with the steaming mug. The heat felt heavenly. After taking a couple of sips, she went straight to the only other soul in the area.
Genya's office was not what one would expect for a high ranking government official. There was no elegant desk of dark cherry, no ergonomic black leather chair and no decorative desk lamp. A workaholic to the bone, Genya's office was like a file room. Dull egg white file drawers lined the walls and sat arranged in rows behind him. Pieces of plywood, laid on top of two-drawer file cabinets, served as desks and working surfaces. Overhead were white fluorescent lights with old luminary diffusing covers. A three-in-one high production scanner, copier and printer was placed in a corner.
As for Genya, he sat on a metal stool with rollers, looking at a monitor screen and typing away. He occasionally turned around to jot down notes on a yellow legal pad before resuming typing. He looked slightly ridiculous, working in such a drab room wearing a pressed shirt and slacks.
"What are you doing here?" were Genya's first words, not even bothering to look away from his screen.
To keep you from working yourself to death, was what Yoko wanted to say. She liked Genya, as her boss and as a friend. She found herself worried over his well being when he was in his working frenzy mode; however, she also knew that her words of concern would be brushed off like one would brush off gnats.
"We have a new shipment of artifacts that awaits inventory and catalog," Yoko said instead. Nothing engaged Genya like work. "As registered curators of the Society, we need to catalog every piece before sending them to museums for authentication or auction. I was hoping that you could help me process the items."
Outwardly, as curators, they gathered and purchased trinkets for museums around the world. It was a useful cover, since museum curators were believed to be stuffy eccentrics that had nothing better to do than to look up meaningless tomes and strangely shaped ornaments. They could show up at cemeteries and mausoleums without being questioned. Priceless heirlooms, imbued treasures and historical documents often made their way to the Society's warehouse. It was only through this guise that Yoko was able to learn many powerful spells and potion recipes from lost tomes.
Genya seemed to consider the task at hand for two seconds. "You can't wait until Sando comes back?"
Sando was one of the best curators and historians in Japan and was assigned permanently to catalog the trinkets.
"Sando is on vacation," said Yoko. "The shipment is purported to be seventeenth-century artifacts from Moscow. And frankly, you're the only one here who knows Cyrillic-based languages."
Language prowess had always been one of Genya's most well-hidden talents. Yoko only learned of it when the both of them took a business trip through Europe and realized that Genya was fluent in almost all Eastern European languages and dialects among the ethnic groups. As easily as Yoko could just plop the words into a computer translator, it was still faster to just let Genya translate directly. Not to mention that it would force Genya out of that stuffy office to work with her.
Genya seemed intrigued. "You go ahead. I'll join you within the hour."
Yoko nodded and proceeded to the aforementioned freight box in the warehouse. She pulled on a pair of magically imbued gloves and pulled up her hair. Cataloging could be a dull but also hazardous task. Cursed treasures often appeared the same as regular or blessed items. There could never be enough precaution.
With another curse about the weather, she began to pull the items from the crates, dump the bubble wrap and take off the protective films. Once the items were liberated from the packing material, she visually inspected them for damage and matched the item against a packing list. Once that was completed, she laid the items on the tables for later cleaning and sorting.
The items were varied. Typical items were usually jewelry like bracelets, hair pins, necklaces and rings. There were a few religious books, paintings, and a couple of skulls that were listed as the bones of some minor saints. Then there were some sacks and whips that no doubt once graced the backs of serfs. Lastly, there were silver stakes, silver arrows, preserved garlic and crystal jars with stoppers; items that bore the obvious signature of supernatural hunting.
The useful instruments, books, and actual antiques with historical significance were placed in one pile. The useless items, often antique jewelry, decorations, and paintings, were placed in another pile for auction. The Archaeological Society worked on an expensive tab, much of it for traveling. Talented individual like herself were few, and paranormal troubles care not for national borders.
Yoko checked off all the lines of the packing list and was ready to leave when she noted a large rectangular but rather flat wooden box at the very end of the shipping crate.
"That's strange...this isn't on the packing list..." Yoko muttered to herself as she looked at the now gnarled sheet of paper with pencil scribbles.
It was not a cause for alarm, since this was not the first time that the packing list did not match the shipping material. It was unusual, however, that such a large crate escaped the attention of the Society curator who initially prepared the packing list.
Yoko approached the large box with a crowbar and a handy spell to destroy the possible hidden poltergeist.
The box seemed normal enough; it was pale colored wood with regular indentions and tree rings. There was a large brown letter sized envelope tacked onto the box and sealed with a string. The envelope bore a single word, written in permanent marker: "Адриан."The letters were neat and slightly slanted. Yoko took the envelope down, turning the paper over, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
"What are you looking at?" Genya asked softly from behind, making Yoko almost drop the envelope.
"Arikado!" Yoko exclaimed as she turned around, her hand over her heart. "How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me?"
Genya was perhaps no more than five steps away from her. He wore a heavy coat and a pair of gloves to ward off the cold temperature of the warehouse. "I told you that I would join you within the hour," said Genya. "What is that in your hand?"
Yoko was still telling herself that it would be bad form to yell at one's own boss when she handed the envelope to Genya. "This was attached to a box that isn't on the packing list," said Yoko, a thumb directed at the wood box behind. "It looks like some type of language in Cyrillic. Now. Translate." Her last word was uttered with a hint of peevishness. She hated being surprised.
Genya took a rather disinterested glance at the envelope, and then blinked twice.
The delayed reaction was not lost on Yoko.
"It's a name," Genya said. "Adrian."
"Adrian?" Yoko echoed, making a face at both Genya and the box. "There is no one with that name here. Hey! Why are you opening someone else's letter?"
"Curiosity," he replied tersely.
Common respect would have made Yoko stop Genya from opening someone else's letter, but she was not about to contradict her superior. Instead, curiosity also bit her. What exactly was the message? What about the letter had given her fearless leader pause?
Genya finally opened the envelope and pulled out a scrap of parchment. The paper was rough and the edges were darkened as if burned. There were only three simple letters on the slip of paper: дар. At the very end, there was a letter "Г."
"What does it say?" Yoko asked.
Genya looked up, incredulous puzzlement in his brown eyes. "'A gift.'"
"What? That's it?"
"That's it," Genya confirmed. His gaze was now on the box. "Let's see what's in it."
With uncharacteristic haste, Genya took the crowbar and began to pull at the box's edge. Nails pulled away, wood splintered, and packing peanuts spilled out.
Yoko scooted out of the way and sat on another empty box and watched, content to let someone else do the grunt work. She deserved a break for coming in on this snowy day. Besides, it was always interesting to watch Genya work; he had a way of making everything seem so easy and disdainful. Maybe she could make a video of him and send it to some movie studio. With that face of his, he could get some acting role. He would probably make more money than now. She could also be making more money as his movie agent.
Within minutes, the edges of the box pulled away, revealing a large rectangular item covered by a beige cloth.
Genya wasted no time and pulled the beige cloth with a well-practiced flourish.
It was a framed painting.
To be exact, it was life-sized painting of a young woman, standing and staring of into the distance. The contrast between dark and light suggested a Baroque painting. The thick black dress with fur trims, as well as the hand warmer and elaborate jewels, suggested someone of northern Balkan nobility, which dated the painting's subject to the fifteenth century. The face seemed young, with solemn lips and wavy gold hair tumbled about her face. And like many painting of that time period and style, the hair length was exaggerated, for no woman could successfully grow their hair length down to their knees. The ice blue eyes, however, seemed so eerie and cold that they made Yoko shiver slightly. In the woman's hand was a familiar looking silver cross.
"What a strange painting, but this should fetch a handsome price," Yoko said appraisingly. Paintings were near useless to the Society, but they were great revenue generators. "Right Arikado?" Yoko turned, only to be surprised.
Genya covered his mouth with his hand. He made a choking noise. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated as he looked at the painting. His chest suddenly heaved. He looked like someone who was about to have a heart attack.
"Pardon me," he managed to bite out before making an inexplicable retreat. He did not leave to just return to the office either. Judging by the sudden howl of the wind and slam of the door, Genya had left the warehouse entirely.
Yoko stared at the spot where Genya occupied before, amazed and confused.
She could have sworn that she saw blood at the corner of his eyes.
Hours later, darkness settled over the city and the sky began to drop a slushy chilly rain.
After completing the artifact inventory and preparing for Church Assignments, Yoko found herself looking out the office window that overlooked the tanker trucks, ground highways and uniform gray sky. The bleak view only made Yoko slightly depressed. As a little girl, she had imagined herself as a housewife with three children. She certainly had seen herself married to a hardworking man. Had she been ordinary, she would had been at home right now, making dinner for her children and loving husband; not sitting at the office working to keep her unpredictable boss happy.
Yoko pursed her lips in thought as she recalled the year her powers manifested. It was her sweet sixteen. As one of the prettier and more popular girls of her class, she naturally had a large party to celebrate the modern coming of age. She had a boyfriend then, her first love, and many adoring friends. It was silly puppy love that caused her to leave the house during the wee hours of the morning after the party to meet with her boyfriend at a cemetery. A zombie happened to rise from the grave and Yoko killed it with a fireball. Her boyfriend ran screaming, yelling curses and names at anything and everything with bravado typical of teenagers. She had cried so hard then, not from her near brush with death, but from the utter rejection of her boyfriend.
Since then, Yoko had been under constant scrutiny of the Church. She went through remainder of high school and college knowing that while she could study any subject she wished, she could only choose a profession permitted by the Church. To do otherwise would mean branding as a witch. She had been resistant at first, but she ultimately saw the fairness of it all.
People like her needed rules in order to co-exist peacefully within society. The boundaries were set not for others' sake, but their own. The Church mopped up any mess she made, as long as she lived within their rules. That was the exchange.
Living under Church rules was not a bad life either. The jobs available to her were decent and she was compensated fairly. The hours were reasonable with plenty of downtime. Too many of her peers were not as lucky as her.
In time, she joined the Archaeological Society, an organization that received cases from both the Church and government. It was there that she met the mysterious Genya.
Genya was an interesting figure. He was handsome, unconventional, demanding and charismatic. He was the first man she met who reeked of magic. Genya demanded everyone to be better than themselves and demonstrated that he could be better than anyone. He worked harder than anyone and seemed unbothered by the niceties and politeness demanded by authorities. His admonishments were tear-inducing but he also protected his own people.
There was the familiar slam of the warehouse main door and the accompanying gust. Yoko immediately dropped her pouty expression and turned to greet the only person that it could be.
Genya placidly paced into the office greeting area where Yoko waited behind the receptionist's desk.
"Care to explain yourself?" Yoko asked with her usual cool smile, propping her chin on a palm and elbow to the desk.
"No," Genya answered flatly as he took off his soaked coat. There were chips of ice that fell onto the carpet as he shook the coat. His hair was plastered to his body and face, wet from the rain. Water dripped from his sleeve. His face was paler than before, if possible, and made a striking contrast against his dark hair and eyes.
"You worried me, you know," said Yoko conversationally with her arms crossed. She leaned back on her chair and laced her fingers like she was an executive of a billion dollar firm as depicted in film. "That was such a bad mood swing I thought I might have to come save you with chocolates, tissues and a chick flick."
Genya stared at her steadily. Like the last time at Gion, his eyes seemed to turn yellow. Then he scoffed. "I prefer scotch, cigarettes and a horror film."
For some reason, that struck Yoko as extremely funny. She laughed and stood up. She touched him gently on the cheek.
He was chilly, cooler than death if she dared to make the comparison. He did not seem to mind her touch either. "You're very cold," Yoko observed before retracting her hand.
"I've been walking outside in the rain," Genya said dryly. He threw strands of his sopping wet hair behind an ear. His hair had gotten very long again, almost down to his waist. It never made much sense to Yoko why a man who adored efficiency kept such a long mane. He then changed the subject. "You've completed the cataloging?"
"Of course," Yoko pulled up the bound report and handed it over to Genya. "Two hundred sixty-one items. Six are cursed. Five are blessed. Some rather potent holy water. Twenty are of questionable authenticity. The remaining are of historical significance. I've already notified our partner curators, societies and auctioneers. Some museums should pick it up, or they will go into private collections."
Genya glanced at the report, idly looking through the photographs. "What about that painting?"
"It's been listed for auction," Yoko answered.
"I see."
Yoko stared at Genya for a bit, watching hints of any unexpected behavior.
However, Genya was intent on business. "Did you review the Assignment requests from the Church?"
"Yes," said Yoko. "A total of ten requests. Nine have already been assigned. I've briefed them for you."
"Very good."
Yoko beamed. It was so rare for Genya to praise anyone.
"What about the tenth?"
"It's been assigned to you," said Yoko. "You and, I assume, me as the partner."
Genya looked up from the report, puzzled. The Church rarely involved Genya directly. While the man always got the job done, his services came with a price. It was common knowledge that Genya had some type of enmity against the Church and while he never openly attacked them, he never went out of his way to help them either. "What?"
"That's what I said," Yoko acknowledged. "This mission is from his eminence, Cardinal Weiss. He's requesting your presence at the Vatican two days from now. He said he'll give better details once you've arrived."
"Out of the question," Genya refused.
"Wait," Yoko said placating. "The details might change your mind. I did some digging while you were gone. Cardinal Weiss has been investigating some incidences of grave robbing at a Russian cemetery. At first, it looked like some black-market archaeologist trying to procure some bones, declaring them to originate from some VIP, and then selling them to a private collection. So three weeks ago, Weiss sent some of the local Society agents to investigate."
"And?"
"I'm getting to it," said Yoko, picking up the piece of paper with the fax. "The local agents disappeared for days. They didn't call in or report. They've contacted no one outside Cardinal Weiss, not even their families. But about ten days ago, they suddenly showed up at the Church headquarter, declaring that they've resolved the issue. They were congratulated, paid, and sent back until further notice."
"Sounds normal enough," said Genya. "What's the catch?"
"There's two catches," Yoko declared. "First of all, those agents, all four of them, that disappeared, are now missing. Their families were found dead days ago. Their hearts carved out."
"And number two?"
"This fax was signed, dated, and validated for security by Cardinal Weiss today," said Yoko. "I've just called the Vatican. They've denied this Assignment and the entire incident about grave robbers. Cardinal Weiss was found dead in his office three days ago, his carotid artery severed with a letter opener."
The corner of Genya's lips twitched in approval. "A fitting end."
Yoko rolled her eyes. Genya had his morbid moments. This was one of them. "The Church is in a small uproar over this. Cardinal Weiss had been dealing with the small fries for years, so no one bothered to keep a close eye on him. His filing system is a mess, and his own secretary is in shock over the Cardinal's sudden death. Incidentally, as of sixteen hours ago, Weiss' body is missing. Our contacts with the other Societies have confirmed the events."
The Genya was silent for a while, digesting the information. He then shook and said, "Either some very good hacker just played a glorious prank on us, or something serious has happened."
"It stinks of traps," Yoko assessed, "though it seemed interesting enough." Yoko put on one of her most come-hither smiles. "What do you say, Genya-kun. How about a vacation in Italy? You cannot deny that this case piques your interest."
Genya looked at her, his face impassive, his eyes as dark as a soulless stone. At last, he scoffed. "Fine. As long as you bring along a chaperon."
"I'm not a child," said Yoko plaintively.
"Two chaperons then," said Genya. "Book the flights two days from now. No layovers. Clean hotel. Decent rental. No spa treatments."
Yoko only gave a guilty look on the mentioning of last item. "I'll get right on it."