Sometimes, people actually think evil plots start over the most innocent of things. Take corn.
You heard me. Corn. It seems innocent enough, right? It tastes good, it's loaded with fiber, and in recent years, experiments in corn ethanol production have opened the possibilities of a cleaner bio-fuel. One would hardly think that the corn industry were up to some diabolical conspiracy, right?
Well, believe it or not, some people do. See, in the late 20th Century, more and more companies were switching to high-fructose corn syrup (or HFCS) as a sweetener instead of cane sugar; HFCS is cheaper, but has more calories. And a lot of people – many of them health experts and even doctors – started to have the opinion that the widespread switch to HFCS was contributing to the obesity epidemic, to the point where some big-name products (like Snapple) eventually switched back to cane-sugar due to the HFCS's bad publicity. At the same time, the U.S. government started to refuse to sponsor any studies about the usage of HFCS, and as fate would have it, corn was and still is so heavily subsidized by the government and so cheap in modern times that it costs more to grow it than it does to sell it. Some paranoid people think corn farmers are manipulating the government in order to make HFCS more widespread, possibly even kill the cane sugar industry.
A simpler explanation is that politicians do not want to upset corn farmers. Iowa is the biggest corn producer, and Iowa is the state that has the first Presidential primaries. They put a lot of effort into winning that one.
Of course, there is a little logic behind it all. (A little, mind you.) The price of cane sugar is kept high on purpose due to tariffs and quotas established in the 1970s, while corn is purposely kept low because of subsidies, as I've already said. Still, if there was any scheme involved, it was probably just some temporary vote-buying deal that was never undone.
Or maybe a lot of people just think soda with cane sugar tastes better. It's certainly better than aspartame was.
0-0-0-0-0
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Chapter Eighteen
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Ruby Tuesday
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
0-0-0-0-0
The clock read four-thirty in the morning when Sofia staggered into the large townhouse, trying not to wake anyone up. Indeed, no-one was awake yet and hadn't started to brew coffee, so she made her way to the refrigerator in the kitchen.
Not that she intended to make coffee. She didn't want caffeine now, seeing as she really wanted to get a couple hours of sleep after getting something to drink. It was almost hard to keep her eyes opened now. She picked up a carton of milk – she assumed – and stated drinking right from it.
"Rough night?" asked Opal's voice.
Sofia turned around slowly and looked at the djinn.
"What makes you say that?" she asked.
"Well, first of all, you're drinking Half & Half right from the carton," replied Opal.
Sofia's eyes snapped open, and she looked at the now-empty carton closely.
"Yuck…" she moaned. She thought that had tasted funny.
"Everyone is worried about you," continued the genie.
"I was following your suggestion," muttered Sofia.
Opal held her hands up. "Guilty, but I didn't think this would mean going halfway across the world."
"Neither did I," said Sofia. She gave a sour look at the carton and then pitched it into a garbage can. "Philip is into heavy shit and I'd try harder to help him… If going near him didn't seem so dangerous all of a sudden…"
"Sofia, you usually aren't like this!" exclaimed Opal. "You've become… Unorganized!"
"What do you mean, I'm still organized!" protested the Shadowchaser.
She dug into her pocket.
"I've got my to-do list here…" She fumbled with her mobile and almost dropped it, but got a good hold on it as she turned it on and opened the calendar. "Here, for Wednesday, I have to go to that place to get Sovereign Glue and Universal Solvent at ten AM, then talk to Vss about those devil graves at noon, then Janus and I were going to look into the problem with those two owlbears at the reservoir…"
"Sofia, it's Tuesday…" said Opal.
Sofia froze. She looked at it closely.
"Uh, so it is…" she said.
"And today you and Janus are supposed to go wake the Longfang Witherhide up from his four-month hibernation," added Opal, "which you should really start off on at nine. I'm sure you know how much he loves it when he finds out he's overslept."
Sofia let out a sigh. All of a sudden coffee was sounding more appealing, along with a shower.
Wonder if I have time to talk to the boss before then… she thought.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
At Copek, Emily had woken up even earlier.
She wasn't dressed in any skimpy, sexy outfit now. Her padded leather suit with gloves, bandoleer, and military-issue boots, along with her hair in a ponytail, made her look like a woman ready for a far more serious fight.
She approached a door that said "Private! Keep Out!" Of course, if this this warning wasn't enough to dissuade someone, she had the only key to the door, and opening it via any means other than the key (or forcing it open) would set off an alarm guaranteed to wake up the whole city block.
As she opened the door, the small kitchen it led to didn't look very impressive at first sight. Then you noticed that the cabinets had chains on them, and the refrigerator had a digital combination lock to protect what was inside.
The lock was a ruse. If any number was punched in, the person who grabbed the handle would be hit be a Chain Contingency that focused two spells on him, first a Chain Lightning (guaranteed to make him let go) followed by a Suggestion that he leave the room at once.
Still, even if he successfully opened it with the fingerprint-sensitive handle as Emily was doing now, he wouldn't find anything he would call valuable. Inside were several bottles, and all were marked with skulls and crossbones and the word "poison", indicating that they weren't safe.
These chemicals were indeed poisons, liquid abstract of plants that were notorious for their toxicity, including hemlock, monkshood, milkweed, and many others. There was one entire plant being kept fresh in a container, a large sprig of belladonna. Also known as "deadly nightshade" and ironically, a relative of the common potato, this was one of the most toxic plants in the natural world. The roots were the most dangerous, but eating the leaves or the berries (which looked deceptively like blueberries) could also cause death.
Emily picked up a pitcher containing a green liquid, a combination of all those poisons made using alchemy. A "poison milkshake" it was often called by people who didn't take this seriously. (It took a long time to make, so she was always certain to make it in advance.) She took a glass from a counter, and poured about three ounces of it.
She lifted the glass. She felt chills every time she did this, a feeling that could only be compared to a man about to commit suicide. Still… she closed her eyes and swallowed it in one gulp.
Of course, this would have been an overt act of suicide had she not been an ermordenung.
She tended to chuckle whenever she saw a human-made food product that boasted it was "100% natural" with "no artificial colors or flavors", as if that was a good thing. Well, the potion didn't have a single manmade chemical in it, and it was deadly. If most health food nuts drank it, they'd be dead before they hit the floor. But to her, it was fuel.
Elven kingdoms preferred to be more straightforward when defending their lands, if they couldn't avoid it, and their monarchs denied they would ever use such an uncivilized method as an assassin to gain an advantage over enemy forces. They tried to deny the existence of the ermordenungs, and failing that, tried to distort the definition of "assassin", but that's what they were.
The process in which an elf became an ermordenung was long and complex, and only a few could qualify. You had to be taught and conditioned by an older, more experienced ermordenung, and it was rare for one to take more than one student at a time. It wasn't just physical training, meditation techniques, and acquiring various skills like alchemy, enchantment magic, disguise, subterfuge, and the like. An apprentice did learn all that, and while she did, her mentor was treating her with formulae that altered her body chemistry, giving her small doses of plant poisons until she gained an immunity, and larger doses until it became something more than an immunity.
When she finally had the right to be called an ermordenung, poison flowed through her veins instead of blood, making her tougher and hardier than she looked, much stronger than humans, able to restrain people bigger than herself, her fist able to throw a powerful punch and her jaw able to take one.
But by consuming poison, she became poison. The toxic cocktail she was using made her even stronger, pushing her strength to superhuman levels, made her skin rock-hard, and made contact with bare kin deadly. Usually an ermordenung's MO was to enchant a mark of the opposite sex; when he was finally lured into an embrace and tricked into accepting a kiss by the assassin's sultry, husky voice, the kiss would be his last. Even if he could resist it for a second or two, breaking free wasn't easy; a mark with a low enough metabolism to resist it and realize what was happening could simply be kissed again.
(Of course, not that this hidden profession was limited to females.)
Emily closed her eyes as the poison flowed through her. She felt her muscles started to bulge and tighten, her abs strengthening. The potion had tasted horrible and almost made her sick, but then, it always did. Every single time she took it. She wondered if she would ever get used to it.
But then, just like always, the sickness passed, and she straightened up with a pleasant sigh.
She smirked, and feeling energized, poured some of the mixture into a thermos the size and shape of a canteen. The dose she had taken would last about twelve hours, but for this job, better safe than sorry.
She slid it onto her belt, then locked up and left.
It would only last about a day, but hopefully she and Ferdinand wouldn't take that long.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Terra was in a dimly-lit laboratory. Around her was an array of bottles, test tubes and beakers, most of them with liquid, some of them being heated. There were tools and devices on the counters, many of which she didn't know the purpose of.
Minotaurs tended to be distrustful of magic and of wizards, and that was another trait she had in common with minotaurs in general. (If you asked her why, she'd likely say, "Wouldn't you be?") Still, as much as she preferred to work alone, that wasn't always possible.
Most people assumed that she was the type of feminist that hated men. Well, she got along very well with a few of them that she worked with…
"That's a pretty nasty cut you have there." The clearly male voice came from someone examining the wound on her lower torso where Joka had slashed her with the Bowie knife.
"Tell me something I don't know," she replied. "Ow…"
The grunt of pain came as he applied some kind of ointment to the wound. The pain quickly started to ease.
"Well, at least it isn't infected…" he said. He started to bandage it. "Just try not to get into any fights – or any brawls – until about five o'clock or so and you'll be fine."
"Ugh…" said Terra. "So, this Joka guy…"
She stood up as he turned to a counter.
"Just who the hell is he?"
"A very dangerous man," replied her benefactor.
"I know that," she said, rolling her eyes. "Can you elaborate?"
"I could," he said, "but I'm not sure if I should. Do you need such information to prepare in case you cross paths with him again, or because you intend to look for him on purpose out of revenge?"
"A little from column A, a little from column B," she said, in a straight voice.
He didn't turn around, but frowned a little.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Oxford University.
In one of the common rooms at the dorms, the administrator was handing out letters from a mail bin as female students tried to crowd.
"One at a time, ladies," she said. "One at a time… Samantha… Rhoda… Violet… Patricia…"
She handed out the letters then turned to a young woman wearing a silver jacket over a halter with matching jeans, her hair in a long ponytail.
"Judy, I have something I need for you to sign for…" she said.
"Oh good, it's here…" replied Judy.
"Madelyn…" said the admin to her friend, as Judy wrote her full name, Judy LaBaron. The admin pointed to a large box near the desk.
"So what's in it now?" asked Madelyn, getting excited. "Is it from Backwater?"
Judy chuckled a little as she picked it up. She doubted it… Maria's brownies had almost started a sorority war when she tried to share them the last time."
"Need help with that, princess?" asked a male voice as she carried it out into the hallway.
"Don't call me 'princess,' Jeffrey," she replied. "And no. There's nothing edible in here if that's what you want to know."
"I just wanted to help you carry it up the stairs," replied Jeffery. "You looked like you were having a hard time." As he said that, he put his hand somewhere where he shouldn't.
"Take it off, or I break it off," she ordered.
Jeffery removed the hand, and she looked him in the face. His expression was telling quite a different story than his words.
"Are you kidding Jeffery?" she asked. "I could carry you up the stairs."
"Yeah, I'd like to see you!" he laughed.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Five minutes – and a good deal of screaming, cursing, and struggling – later, Judy reached the top of the stairs on the fourth floor and dumped the now-embarrassed Jeffery on the floor. Madelyn came up behind her, carrying the box.
"See me?" asked Judy.
"I see ya…" he groaned.
"Now unless you want a much faster trip down the stairs, get lost!" she ordered.
"Come on, Judy," said Madelyn, as he walked away. "Believe me, that isn't the first time his big mouth has gotten him in trouble."
"I know," said Judy. "Jeffery's mouth causes him a lot of trouble, which he never seems to be able to talk himself out of…"
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
In one part of Shadowchaser Headquarters' detention center where new prisoners were fingerprinted, photographed, and all the other necessities, Aysis was in an interrogation room, where she seemed rather cheerful, despite the fact that her hands were cuffed in front of her with binder's shackles, preventing escape via magic and the use of her demonic powers. She whistled cheerily as she propped her feet up on another chair.
The door finally opened, and Jabels entered, followed by an armed soldier and a woman with a clipboard and pen. She smiled sweetly at Jabels, who wasn't amused.
"Ms. Fayne," he said, "I will tell you now that being more cooperative is going to convince the judge to be more lenient and very possibly, make your life much easier."
"Cooperative?" asked Aysis. "As in tell you who hired me? Truthfully, I have no clue. I just take orders from High Chamberlain Thingol the Mocking of the Mercenary Guild."
"Uh…" said Jabels.
"It's in the Gate Town of Torch," replied Aysis. "See, pretend the table is Outlands and Gehenna is here…"
She lifted up her cuffed hands, and moved them to the slightly off the edge of the table, then to the left.
"…Torch would be here…"
She touched the surface of the table in front of where she pointed.
"I'm afraid she doesn't leave the place much, so you'll have to go there if you want to question her. But I gotta warn you, she's kind of the law there, and she doesn't like people who waste her time. Make her angry and, well, when she's in a good mood, she gives a prisoner a choice of how he wants to die. From a list of possibilities of course."
Jabels and his assistants looked at each other, clearly not amused.
"Do you have any idea why you were told to target Fredrick?" asked Jabels, making sure to use the pseudonym that Z was currently using.
"Nope," said Aysis. She leaned back in her chair. "All I was given was a description of the guy, told where he's be, and the instructions, 'bring back alive'."
"And that's how you guys always do it?" asked the soldier.
"Yup," replied Aysis.
"Oh, gee," said the secretary," I'd hate to be someone who happened to vaguely resemble an average-looking mark who was at the wrong place at the wrong time!"
"That's his problem!" laughed Aysis. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to be shown to my room please? It's been a long night."
"Ugh…" muttered Jabels. "Mark, you heard her…"
"Come on…" said Mack. She stood up and he held her by the arm. "Don't give me any trouble and I might be able to get you down there before they serve breakfast."
As the guard led her out the door, none of them saw the shit-eating grin on her face.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
In the medical ward of the medium security section of the complex, Yolanda was awake. She was in bed, her arms strapped down (standard procedure, unfortunately) while an orderly was feeding her. The fact that she was conscious and eating was a sign that she was making progress, as the other man in the room – a fifty-something man in a suit – would attest.
Dr. Madison Freely, M.D., Ph.D., A.P.A., was a psychiatrist from the States who, after gaining Awareness at a very young age, had chosen to counsel a very specific type of clientele: Shadow-Touched. It wasn't broad enough for a private practice, but he was invaluable as a consultant.
"Now, Ms. Alva," he said, "just relax now… Any time you feel I'm getting too… Intrusive, just tell me."
Yolanda smiled weakly and nodded.
"If I may ask," he continued, "did you know both of your parents?"
"My real parents?" sighed Yolanda, sadly. "Well… It's hard to describe… My mother was human and well… Her husband was too… I really didn't know anyone except him who… claimed to be my father… My little sister, she was fully human…"
"I see…" replied Freely.
"I do know he was a wizard," she continued. "He never came out and said it but… It was kind of obvious…"
"Of course…" he replied. "And…"
"I never asked him, no," she said, shaking her head.
"Mmm…" said Freely. "Were they good parents?"
"Well, they weren't bad, but…" said Yolanda. She stopped and shivered.
"Calm down," said the orderly.
"Do you want to continue later?" asked Freely.
"My dad could be… Scary sometimes," said Yolanda. "My sister and I were afraid of him, I think my mother was too… He was strict with the discipline in ways only a wizard could be."
"Curses?" said Freely, sounding startled.
"Yes," replied Yolanda. "One time when I was six and my sister was five, we stole these cookies that my mom was going to bring to her book club. A very large book club, enough cookies for thirty people. We got carried away and ate all of them.
"Dad found out, got angry, and called us pigs. Then to teach us a lesson, he turned us into pigs."
"I see…" said Freely, shaking his head. He had heard stories like this before, actually. Wizards sometimes did things like that to apprentices too. (God help a young wizard with a strict parent who tried to combine the two and learn magic from his or her parents.)
"It was only a weekend," sniffed Yolanda, "but poor Valerie cried for an hour after he relented and broke the curse."
Freely stopped.
"You were close to your sister, I take it?" he asked.
Yolanda didn't answer. Tears started to run down her cheeks.
"Okay, okay…" he said. "You want to stop now?"
She nodded, and he stood up. He motioned to the orderly.
"I'm going to file this report," he said. "Keep her sedated for now, no visitors. I think we may have a chance here…"
He nodded, and the psychiatrist left the room.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
In the Chicago penthouse where the local Shadowchasers kept their headquarters, Karl was typing at the laptop computer at the desk while looking at SAL's holographic screen for a comparison. (He hadn't made any definite decisions yet as to his next move in the Shadowchasers, but until then, Dugan was glad to put him up.)
"Morning, Karl," said Francis, with a yawn. "You need coffee? Or were you the one who already drank the first pot?"
"I've been needing the caffeine lately," said Karl, not looking up.
Francis looked at SAL as Karl typed.
"Can that thing download the old Kingdom Hearts games?" he asked.
"Oh, I'm a 'thing', am I?" snapped SAL, rudely.
"SAL…" said Karl, with a sigh.
"I'm not just a calculator or an iPad, you know," she ranted.
"SAL!" shouted Karl.
"And YES, I can download Kingdom Hearts, along with 99.8% of all other downloadable video games on the market. Would you like to see the recent fall trailers for Sony's holiday lineup? They came out yesterday."
"Later, SAL!" snapped Karl. "We have work to do…"
"Yes…" said Francis. "So what have you found out?"
"I may be getting closer to finding out what that small marble thing was…" said Karl. "Like they said, I think it was only a… piece of a larger magical item…"
"You think maybe it's a 'starter key' of some sort'?" asked Francis.
"Believe me, Francis, that was an idea from the beginning."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"So why the hell are Emily and Ferdinand going to this place?" asked Oswald. "And why can't I go with them?"
He was leaning back on a couch in Dunstan's office as the aide typed, watching the TV, which given the time, had some old Monty Python movie. Dunstan didn't know which one right now, nor did he care. The man was giving him a bigger headache than he usually did.
"Because you're crazy, Oswald," replied Dunstan. "You'd just get killed in a job like this, and take Emily and Ferdinand with you.
"As for why we're doing it, because Diogenes said so."
"Oh, and Diogenes is the almighty master now?" exclaimed Oswald, sarcastically.
Dunstan growled, and removed his glasses.
"He's our biggest client," he said, standing up partially. "We're a business, we do what the client says… That's how we make money… And need I remind you he's the only reason you're here. Be happy you're part of this all."
"Right…" said Oswald. "I'm SO happy I get to sit on my ass while those two go relic hunting."
Dunstan sighed and stood up.
"Oswald, you ever hear the old phrase 'It takes money to earn money'?" asked Dunstan. "It's truer than you think, especially in these times."
He fished his wallet out of his pocket, then thumbed through it.
"See this?" he asked, holding up a formal-looking license.
Oswald looked at it. It had Dunstan's name and picture on it, and was issued by the government of Great Britain.
"This is the license I need to legally work with the stuff in this place," he continued. "Now, taking the test I needed to apply for it cost me a total of 120 pounds. I also had to pay forty pounds for the required drug test and seventy for the fingerprinting."
"They charge you seventy pounds to fingerprint you?" laughed Oswald. "If you got arrested, the cops would do it for free!"
Dunstan gave him a dirty look.
"But the lawyer you'd have to hire to get out of jail would cost you a lot more,stupid," he said.
"Honestly… Now as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted… I also had to pay thirty pounds for the printed laminated license itself, and it took me three weeks to get it. I was lucky. It can sometimes take as much as a month and a half. And I have to take an annual refresher course that I also have to pay for, which is eight hours of a lecture that's about as interesting as watching paint dry. Fortunately, that one is deductible.
"I'm not even going to get into how expensive the degree was I needed before I was qualified to take the test in the first place, or the demeaning and embarrassing jobs I had to work as a teenager to put myself through college.
"You on the other hand… You're so proud of telling everyone that you 'came from the school of hard knocks', which is really just a nice way to say you were a dropout. You're a thug who's brain is malfunctioning, and would likely end up in the looney bin if we didn't need you, yet you're making money today simply by sitting on your ass and watching the free satellite television that Mr. Addams is providing. Now you think about that long and hard before you think that's a bad thing."
He turned around, and Oswald chuckled a little. There was a loud click.
"Sure genius," said Oswald, "can that big brain of yours deal with this?"
Dunstan spun around as Oswald lunged at him with the switchblade, and his fist slammed into the henchman's teeth, knocking him over as blood and saliva spewed from his mouth.
Dunstan looked at him in disgust.
"I took boxing lessons at Cambridge, Oswald," he said. "Kind of hurts when your opponent isn't wearing gloves, doesn't it?"
He shook his head, then left the room.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Italy.
In Cattivo's study, Drago was throwing darts against a dartboard on the wall was Tranello, who was seated at a desk, studied the mysterious journal page by page with a special glass.
Thus far he had ruled out most non-magical forms of invisible ink, along with magical runes that could only be seen on certain days, or only by members of certain races or genders.
It isn't Secret Page, he thought. It isn't Illusory Script…
He could almost feel the answer… It was like something in this book was calling to him, urging him to the solution…
His mobile rang. He checked the number and answered it.
"Chess?" he asked. ?" he asked. "You got my message? Uh-huh… Uh-huh…"
He stood up.
"You do? Where are you?" He paused to listen. "Okay, okay… I'll call the boss, and we should be there by then."
He hung up and turned to Drago. "Where's the boss?" he asked.
"Out," replied the bodyguard. "He's at that place we aren't allowed to talk about."
"Uh, right…" said Tranello.
He knew what that meant. Obviously, that's why he had left without Drago, his bodyguard. The place was somewhere he had to go alone.
Tranello knew a little about this mysterious establishment, not enough to know where it was or what it was formally called (he assumed it might have been in another dimension) but apparently, it was the best place to buy things that nobody else had or fence something you had obtained illegally.
Some art thieves might look at the Mona Lisa and see it as the ultimate prize. Jewel thieves might look at the British Crown Jewels and think the same way. They never think what they'd do if they ever, by some miracle, succeeded in stealing such artifacts. Take them to the local fence? They might as well call the police and ask to be taken to jail. No fence would willingly deal with something that hot and risk Interpol and the FBI coming after them.
But this odd place would buy anything, and could find a buyer for anything. It was the best place to fence and buy contraband anywhere, bar none.
He was about to dial the boss' number, but then he stopped. Cattivo had said not to call him away from the place except in a dire emergency. What constituted "dire emergency"? It was hard to say.
Tranello did know the reason for that rule, however. You needed a membership card to go to this place, and as a probationary member, Cattivo was only allowed one visit every two weeks. Tough darts if he had to leave early. Apparently, Cattivo's influence among the Shadow underworld didn't impress the place's owners or longtime members enough to grant him more access yet.
Still, for the same reason, he'd be back in two hours, tops… He sat at the computer and typed a message.
Boss,
Chess said he found a guy who can translate the book, and he wants to meet us at the Arc de Triomphe in Paris. The book is in the safe. Grab it and I'll meet you there, okay?
Tranello
He got up and made a rush towards the painting of Descartes on the other side of the room.
"Slow down!" shouted Drago. The accountant moved the painting aside, revealing the safe.
"Can I trust you to make sure he gets that message?" asked Tranello, as he shut the journal in the safe.
"I…" started Drago. Then Tranello slammed it shut and dashed through the door.
"Well, at least now he's got something to do," mumbled the bodyguard.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Aysis lay on the cot in her holding cell. She slowly looked around.
She was still wearing the binder's shackles, but they weren't cuffed together now, and escape seemed unlikely. This was a high-security part of the prison, where you'd expect a Shadow with potent supernatural abilities to be held. The cells had glass walls making up the front, and the door had no visible keyhole or even lock. If she had to leave, the checkpoint down the hall would open it by remote after at least two human guards were certain there was no risk.
Of course, it wasn't airtight, it had a ventilation shaft. She couldn't fit through it, of course, but no problem… She didn't mind staying here for a while.
She had studied the security cameras in the room about a dozen times, and she had found it. All together, they scanned most of her cell, but there was a "blind spot" about three feet by three feet at the head of her cot.
She waited for the patrol, and once he had past and marked an "All Clear" in his log, she scooted to the blind spot. Quickly, she balled her right hand into a fist… And then slugged herself in the stomach.
The impact made her vomit up three small scarab-like insects. They fell to the floor as she moved out of the blind spot, and then scurried up the wall.
"G'wan, get," she said softly. She lay down on the cot as they crawled through the ventilation shaft.
She smiled evilly as she closed her eyes again.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"Nope," said Sofia. "Nope, no… uh-uh…"
She was looking at mug shots on a screen, all of them African-American men with no hair, the general description she had given of Mack.
"Sorry, chief, it's none of them…" she said.
"It may have been an illusion anyway…" said Jalal. "At least we have more to go on… Even if it's only a little."
"So, uh, this Ferdinand guy…" asked Sofia. She stood up off the chair.
"That's what I meant, actually," replied Jalal. "I actually have found a few records of mobsters that were 'hit' by someone named Ferdinand who matches the description. Thing is, they all happened at least fifty years ago, and the oldest about seventy years ago.
"If it's him, he must be a Shadowkind race that lives far longer than humans.
"A little old fashioned investigating may be key. We'll keep an eye out for someone with his description and Archfiend monsters, and…"
"Uh, boss?" asked Sofia.
Her hand shook. She took Philip's crumpled-up letter out of her pocket.
"I… I might know a place he might show up…"
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
In a room one hall over from his mothers in the hospital wing, Ramón was in a similar room, fast asleep in bed, and snoring. He tended to sleep hard.
One of the three scarabs crawled out of the ventilation shaft and dropped to the floor, then a slight smell of incense filled the room as a misty smoke started to obscure it. The tiny creature started to change shape.
After a few seconds, it had assumed its true form, that of a wicked-looking imp about eight inches tall, with small wings, horns, and a barbed tail.
It hopped onto the bed, onto Ramón's chest. "Hey," it said, speaking in a tone that was sharp and bossy. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty!"
No response.
"Wake up!" ordered the imp. He slapped the young man across the face.
"OW!" she shouted. "I…"
As he noticed the little creature, it grabbed hold of his lips and closed them.
"Don't talk, just listen," it ordered. "The boss needs you and your mom again. You want out? Just nod if ya do."
Ramón didn't know what to make of this, but he nodded.
"Can ya do this?" asked the imp. It somehow made a piece of paper appear in its other hand and shoved it in front of his face. "Read."
Ramón read quickly. This was crazy but… He nodded again.
"All right…" said the imp.
It let go of his lips, and crumpled the paper, causing it to vanish. Then it started to gnaw through the strap holding Ramón's left arm down, until only about a half-inch held. Then he repeated it with the right one.
"Fifteen minutes, flyboy," it said. "I'll see you then. Do what I say and this will be easy." It hopped onto the floor where it quickly turned into a scarab again, creeping under the door leading to the hall out.
"Not if the custodian with the bug spray finds you, pal," replied Ramón, arching an eyebrow.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
In their dorm room, Judy quickly ripped open the box, which contained mostly DVDs and books she had ordered from online catalogues. She hadn't been entirely truthful to Jeffery, as there were containers of salt water taffy, peanut brittle, and Swe in here.
"I got the one you wanted," she said, holding a DVD up.
Madelyn looked at it. Indeed, The Running Man was one of the few movies in her collection of Schwarzenegger flicks, she needed to put it aside for more serious stuff now.
"Later," she replied. She threw herself on her unmade bed, and then reached for a book by the side.
"I have to read this by Friday and I'm still on Act Two…"
"Twelfth Night?" asked Judy. "You know, Madelyn, they can perform those plays in three hours tops…"
Then she noticed something in the package. A small diskette that wasn't supposed to be there.
Hello? she thought. What the hell is this?
She walked over to her deck where her laptop was, then fit the diskette into the right drive. A six-pack of soda was on the table, but it was warm.
No problem, she thought. As the anti-viral program scanned the diskette to make sure it was safe, she took a glass from her cabinet and ice from the cooler she had.
"File Done," said the computer. She sat down and started pouring the soda as the file from the diskette came up…
Madelyn jumped as the soda glass fell out of Judy's hands and smashed on the floor. "Judy?" she said.
Her roommate was gazing at the screen. "No…" she said, softly.
"Madelyn, I have to go out!" she shouted, as she got up, the tone in her voice close to panic. "If anyone comes looking for me, make something up!"
"Wait, what?" started Madelyn.
Madelyn looked strangely at Judy's computer. Slowly, she inched over to it, and turned it on. She knew the entrance code as well as Judy did, and she was sure that Judy knew how to get on her computer.
Not that she did this often, but…
The diskette was still on the computer desktop, and she was able to access the file on it simply by clicking.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
In her room, Yolanda was watching the clock closely.
One of the other two imps had talked to her, and told her to do something similar. Now the clock was at the twelve-minute-mark.
It passed thirteen.
At fourteen she was startled. Alarms started to ring through the compound.
"CODE BLUE!" screamed the loudspeaker. "POTENTIALLY DANGEROUS BREACH IN MAX SECURITY!"
Someone broke out of max security? she thought. That's hard to believe…
When the clock hit the fifteenth minute, she lifted her arms, breaking the weakened straps, and hopped out of bed. Her institutional-issued nightgown didn't cover as much as she'd have liked, but hopefully this would work. She opened the door and peaked out into the hallway where sirens were flashing and only a few orderlies remained, none of them watching her.
The imp was there, and it motioned for her to follow.
"What mass-murderer did you guys break out?" she shouted as she ran after it.
"None of your business!" answered the imp.
They turned the corner and reached a fork, where they met with Ramón and his imp.
For a minute, mother and son hugged each other quietly with relief.
"Mom, I…" he said.
"It's okay, baby," she said. "It's okay, we can…"
"Uh, hello!" snapped one of the imps. "That's touching, and I wish I cared, but I don't, and we have to shake a leg, because…"
"INITIATING SHUT-DOWN PROCEEDURE," shouted the computerized loudspeaker, as the lights turned red. "FIVE MINUTES TO SHUT-DOWN OF DETENTION COMPLEX."
"Uh, because of that!"
"Oh shit!" shouted Ramón as they started running again. "Did Maladar the Faceless himself break out?"
"None of your business," replied the other imp. "Keep running!"
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"You always have to make a big deal out of everything, don't you Ferdinand?" asked Addams.
He had just entered the loading bay of the building where Ferdinand and Emily were waiting, the muscleman standing and leaning on one knee. His outfit was more… exuberant than Emily's, and somewhat iconic, consisting of a leather jacket (with no shirt underneath), brown khaki trousers, hiking boots, and a battered old fedora.
"Hey, when in Rome…" he replied.
"Maagardium is more like Rome to a doomed gladiator, Ferdinand," replied the executive, "not a guest."
"Hey, you think Emily and I can't handle some abandoned temple?" asked the much bigger man.
"That's the first mistake people make, nimrod," muttered Emily. "It's not 'abandoned'. It belongs to the xill, and they still patrol it, frequently."
"That's right, you two," replied Addams. "And most of what we know about the xill comes from information given from the four still-lucid survivors of the eight known expeditions to the place, compared to the seven dead, thirteen missing and presumed dead, and two who went insane after returning.
"So listen carefully!"
The two sat down.
"Xill attack anything that moves and all attempts to communicate with them have ben ignored; they either can't or won't understand. The first mistake most people often make here is thinking they can sneak by them invisibly.
"Xill seem to be blind, but use their hearing and a form of echolocation in place of sight. They don't need eyes.
"They tend to patrol in pairs, which leads to another mistake folks make, thinking they can fight these things because they outnumber them. Xill have a form of racial telepathy, possibly even a hive mind, which means if even one gets in a fight, they all know about it. You kill two of them, you'll be seeing them in groups of twenty."
"Like the Borg?" asked Ferd.
"Ferdinand…" sighed Emily.
"Actually, they're very similar," replied Addams. "Not as absurd a comparison as you think. And as some victims learned, you only truly win a fight with them if you aren't wounded. If you are…"
"Boss, we know!" said Ferdinand, cutting him off quickly, his smile vanishing.
"Good," said Addams. Now the best way to deal with them is to use that sensitivity to sound against them."
"You mean, distract them?" asked Emily.
"Right," replied Addams. "As in, a loud noise can fool them if you aren't where the noise is, and much of your equipment has that in mind.
"Now, the place has far more other dangerous things, and I've assembled an electronic map that probably details the safest way to the vault you need and what you have to avoid…"
"Probably?" asked Emily.
"Like you said, Emily, this is not an abandoned temple," he replied. "It's still in use. Know what the biggest problem is with GPS systems? Why they cause long delays instead of saving time? Because a GPS doesn't take into account recent changes to the area that aren't in its database, like construction projects, recent changes to streets, such as switch to one-way, and seasonal detours. It always picks the route that its memory claims is shortest, but actually trying to take that route could
"The map will help a little bit, but you have to use your best judgment…"
He tossed Ferd a satchel.
"…or you're dead meat. Use it to call me only if there's an emergency."
"Uh, right boss," said Ferdinand. He slung it over his shoulder, and then dug through his pocket.
He looked at what he had gotten from Ray. A small, green, rectangular-shaped device only slightly bigger than a playing card, with a widthwise perforation through the middle. The words, "Admit Maagardium" were written on it.
He snapped it in two, then gave one half to Addams.
"I don't think I need to remind you," said Addams. "The half you have is the only way to return the way you enter, and even then, you only have eight hours. Lose that half or stay longer, you'll just have to find another way back, and there aren't many. So try to hustle.
"One final thing… There might be other valuable stuff there, but stay the hell away from it! I don't care if you see King Arthur's Excalibur or the Arc of the Covenant, you are only to get what Mr. Diogenes requires."
"Right boss, we got that here," said Ferdinand, tapping his shirt pocket.
Addams crushed his half of the card in his fist. The pieces crumbled to dust as a crackling, humming orb of silvery material that looked like liquid metal started to form in front of them, and then slowly shift and expand, growing into the size and shape of a doorway.
"The timer starts now," he said. "Good luck you two…
"…you're gonna need it…"
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"What the bloody hell is going on?" shouted Jabels, as he stormed into the command room.
"I don't know," said Dolores. "We have a situation in the max security part of the detention center…"
"Who?" gasped Jabels.
"No idea!" she said, sounding near panic. "The communications are cut off from that area… But don't worry, shut down has been initiated, and if this is a breach attempt, whoever it is won't get far."
Jabels sat down on a chair holding his head. While he was contemplating how angry Jalal would be if someone in the max security wing broke out, the phone rang.
Now who could that be? he thought, looking at the phone, which was connected a line reserved for the Shadowchaser Council and other important members of the organization. He didn't recognize the number on it.
He picked it up.
"Hello?" said Madelyn's voice on the other end. "Look, I have no idea who this is, but, uh… I'm a friend of Judy LaBaron, and…"
"Hold on young lady," said Jabels, standing up. "Explain to me where you got this number. It's not exactly available."
"I… I… I was snooping in her journals!" cried Madelyn. "Listen, please, if this is an emergency number for her, I think she may be in trouble…"
She looked at Judy's computer screen again, at the word processing file on the diskette, which consisted of only six sentences that suggested something creepy, but nothing that made sense to her:
Royal blood and throne unearned, a dark secret learned by five…
The five were silenced by a knife in the dark…
The passage of time cheated the five of justice…
The scythe of the Reaper strikes more certain than any knife…
…but dark secrets remain…
Shame will fall upon those who withhold it…
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
As this conversation was happening, Judy was going at nearly twice the speed limit on her D-Wheel, going west on the A4 Motorway, the fastest route she knew of to London. She was already halfway through Yorkshire, and nothing that couldn't match the power of her father's mighty breath would stop her.
It was strange… Jalal had tried to be a father to her for so long… But right now, her true father's face was all she could picture in her mind as the vertical lines on the pavement zipped by and the clouds passed overhead…
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"FOUR MINUTES TO SHUT-DOWN…"
Yolanda andRamón didn't like this. The two imps were leading them downstairs and more towards the center of the complex, not exactly towards a place that looked like a way out.
"Through there!" ordered one of the imps, pointing to a metal door. The door swung open as they ran for it, and Ramón dashed in first… Only to trip, lose his footing, and fall face-first into…
Well, he wasn't sure what it was.
His mother held her nose in disgust as she looked around at the piles and piles of garbage bags, many of them leaking disgusting fluid.
"What the…" said Ramón.
"What an incredible smell you've discovered…" muttered Yolanda, holding her nose and looking around at all the trash.
"Sorry for all the commotion, my friends," said a voice in front of them, "but I guess I was a much bigger flight risk than you were…"
They looked up, and saw another prisoner in institutional attire, with a third imp perched on his shoulder.
"Earl Roland Drumer at your service," he said.
"Why the hell are we in the trash dump?" yelled Ramón. Yolanda helped him up as the two imps pushed the door shut. "There isn't even another door out!"
"We're going to take the way out they'd least expect," said the imp with Drumer. "Know what Shadowchaser Headquarters does with the trash it generates? This place is in the middle of the forests of Yorkshire, kind of hard to get a sanitation department to come here.
"This room has a portal to a place located in the Lower Planes where a lot of similar institutions throw their trash. We just have to throw those two levers," it pointed to two plain-looking metal levers on the wall, "and everything in the room except living beings is flushed out of this dimension and into the Trash Heap, as it's called.
Yolanda was about to say something, but the imp interrupted.
"Then it's a simple matter of going back to this world with our own magic, but somewhere far away from England."
"We ARE living beings, idiot!" Yolanda exclaimed.
"True," said Drumer. "But these fellows gave me access to a few of my simpler spells, and I can fool that portal into thinking we're dead."
He nodded at their expressions, which indicated they thought he was bat-shit crazy.
"Yes, that is the usual reaction."
"You said this would be easy…" growled Ramón to "his" imp.
"Easy, not pleasant," it said. "You'll need a shower or twelve, but…"
"SIXTY SECONDS TO SHUT-DOWN…"
"Need I remind you that in one minute, even this won't be an option, and going back means spending time in solitary confinement?"
"Okay, okay…" said Ramón. ""Do it…"
He held onto his mother as Drumer's imp grasped the levers.
"Already done, my friends," he said. "Just remember, we have to…"
The imp threw the levers down, and with a noisy, flushing sound, the portal in the center of the room opened, sucking everything in the room, the bags of trash, the three humans, and the three imps, towards it.
"Damn it you little creep!" shouted Ramón, "I wasn't..."
He heard a diabolical giggle right before they all vanished.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Jemorille: Only six hours had passed since Sonja had stumbled into that kitchen and drank the Half & Half by mistake. So much had happened, and far more would happen before this day was out.
As Judy sped towards London, it had never occurred to her to call her guardian and ask for help. And even if it had, this was something she felt was her responsibility. And Tranello Amore would find something in France, but what?
It was Tuesday, but everyone involved would remember it for years to come.
"Particle Man" is coming soon.
Riding Duel, Acceleration!
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Shadowchasers Files: Personalities
The Dragon's Cauldron; Forbidden Passion
The Rumor: Up until 2022, the volcano on Mayor Island, part of New Zealand's North Island (in the area known as the Taupo Volcano Zone) was dormant and peaceful. But then, it awoke in a violent eruption that turned the island into a hellish inferno. While no deaths were reported, the place is called the Dragon's Cauldron now, and Shadows warn all visitors to stay as far as they can away from it, claiming that a cruel red dragon and his beautiful (but just as cruel) demon lover lair in the hellish place, waiting to prey on whoever comes near.
Since that time, a few brave (and a few foolish) souls have wandered towards the place, some thinking they could defeat the creatures, some wondering if a dragon might have a horde, some who are simply curious. They always regret it, as it seems the rumors are real. They've actually seen the dragon and the scantily clad demonic beauty that seems to be his partner. Oddly enough, however, while rumors of them killing or enslaving innocents is common, no-one has ever reported witnessing someone killed or taken prisoner by the pair. Everyone who has gone there has escaped, many of them reporting that the two monsters seem to radiate an aura of supernatural fear that compels them to retreat. And even stranger, they never give chase.
Anyone who has used magical spells or devices to read the auras surrounding the place find that they seem… wrong. While the Cauldron heavily radiates magic, the moral and ethical auras seem odd and almost contradictory. It radiates moderate Good and Evil auras at the same time (a very rare phenomenon) and a strong aura of Law. (Which could probably not be caused by a red dragon and certainly not by a demon.)
Only a few of the most powerful wizards who can convince the pair to talk to them have learned the secret of the Devil's Cauldron, and it isn't a secret that is shared. (In other words, this is not something that is easy to learn in-story.)
The Truth: A star-crossed romance can rarely end happily. Some, like Romeo and Juliet, were willing to die before they disavowed their love. Princes will forfeit their birthrights, princesses will defy their fathers, and some will hide their love as long as they can, trusting the gods to hide them from disapproving eyes.
The two inhabitants of the Dragon's Cauldron are indeed powerful Shadows and lovers, but not the type everyone believes.
The story started out nearly on the other side of the globe. Some years ago, California's correctional system started a program at its notorious San Quentin State Prison that offered low-risk inmates chances at early parole if they subjected to some new forms of therapy and counseling. The risk was low, and early tests were mostly successful, mainly because the head of the program wasn't human or even mortal. While he claimed his name was Jacob and that he was a deacon of an unspecified Christian church, his true name was Janarr, and he was an agathinon, one of the elite officers of the angelic armies of Mount Celestia.
All may have went well if not for an uninvited guest posing as one of the inmates. While she claimed her name was Natalie and was doing time for high-class prostitution (a "call girl") for organized crime, her true identity was that of an erinyes from Fourth Circle of Hell. Her true name was Nalura.
Neither of the two potential enemies could quite see through the other's disguise at first, but it wasn't long before Janarr had taken enough of an interest in Nalura to have become her personal therapist. And they fell in love.
How? Well, the crazy part is, it was simply because they each just did their jobs too well. Janarr saw a criminal who used her beauty as a weapon to take advantage of men and get what she wanted, and was trying to teach her the benefits of true love, while Nalura saw a mortal of pure and uncompromised morals, and tried to use her fiendish charms to seduce him. By the time either of them realized the true nature of the opponent in this odd battle, they had both succeeded.
Still, the greatest achievement of their careers combined with finding true love would have all come to nothing if their bosses – who they knew would never approve of the relationship – found them now, and they were certain that an unexplained resignation wouldn't be looked upon positively. The two fled as far away as they could, to Mayor Island in New Zealand, where they found a pack of fire-loving elemental creatures in the dormant volcano called magen. They bribed the creatures to cause an eruption which they were able to contain with magic, and once it had driven everyone away and reshaped the island, made the place their home, putting together their "red dragon and demon lover" ruse. With the help of their magen friends to know whenever trespassers are around, the two are quick to use it to scare them away; Janarr uses his shape-changing ability to assume the form of a red dragon, while Nalura subtly alters her appearance to resemble a succubus. The potent aura of fear was created by opening minute portals to the Shadowfell, which the two of them are immune to.
If it doesn't scare anyone away, the pair will fight if they have to. Only if met with opposition they cannot defeat would they consider bargaining with an interloper to keep their secret (resorting to threats, bribes, or even begging if they have to). They're almost certain that their superiors are looking for them; Nalura would face execution if either side found them first, while Janarr's fate would be worse than death if her superiors found them, or an ordeal that might make him wish he were dead if it was his.
As a last resort, the pair could convince the magen to cause an even worse eruption and sink the island entirely while they fled for greener pastures to start from scratch. Whether they could do so without hurting anyone a second time would be very iffy.
Thus far, the two have been lucky. Of course, to those who know the truth, the conflicting auras of Good and Evil worry them. Clearly, Nalura has never been willing to shift to her lover's end of the moral spectrum (mellowed a little, maybe), and he doesn't seem to mind. (Possibly, the idea of letting himself love an evil temptress is okay with Janarr, so long as she isn't actively doing anything evil.) As of yet, few people are wiser, and no-one has been killed, but one has to wonder how far the couple is willing to go to protect their secret…
Story Ideas: As previously said, the truth behind the Devil's Cauldron is only known to a few. It is up to the author who this few is, but it certainly should be someone with the same knowledge and skill as the Librarian or Rayearth. Everyone else is pretty certain that a red dragon and his demon lover does indeed live there, and the reason no powerful force – like the Shadowchasers – has gathered in a group to eliminate them is because no-one sees any reason to risk fighting such a powerful Shadow. (Who again, has caused no known deaths or injuries) on an island with no real importance.)
Janarr and Nalura are more than willing to fight to the death to defend their home, seeing as they really have nothing to lose but it and each other. It's hard to portray them as villains unless there's a case of mistaken identity here.
The best type of story to introduce them into is one where both the Upper and Lower Planes have interest in something. Maybe it was no accident that drew them together. For example, their situation may be what is needed in the escape clause of some ancient and forgotten treaty that a villain finds, which has been violated by human signers who forgot it existed. (Like the one between the humans and the elf king in Hellboy II: The Golden Army.) If representatives of both Heaven and Hell are needed to render the now-dangerous contract void, few would be unwilling to work together… except maybe two of them.
As far as Duel Monsters goes, the two work as a team in tag-style. Fairies combined with Fiends with a focus on the Sky Scourges wouldn't be unrealistic.