Chương 163: Act 3, Chapter 17: Travel challenges

Day in the story: 6th January (Tuesday), around 9. 30 p. m.

"Aren't you changing into something more protective?" I asked Caroline as I walked into her office at headquarters. She was wearing a long coat and a beanie, her black hair sticking out from underneath, but there was no Guild armor beneath it.

"No," she replied, rummaging through a drawer in her desk. She was clearly searching for something.

"We're investigating today, not fighting monsters or mages."

"Whatever. It's your life," I said, sitting on the edge of her desk.

"We're doing it on Earth, so I don't expect many hiccups. If we find the man—""When," I corrected her.

"If we find him, we do not engage. We call a proper response team and they apprehend him. Is that clear?"

"The last part," I lied.

"The first part was never actually explained to me. What authority does the Guild have when conducting investigations?"

"Whatever authority is needed. You've got your badge. You can pour your Authority into it to make it appear as a badge, an ID, or whatever is needed at the moment. You can also display the emblem of the Guild for any Awakened people, or use it as a beacon. If it's on for longer than a minute, it will attract an Oracle to its location."

"So I can," I began, reaching for the badge they'd given me and pouring a bit of shadowlight into it with a flick of my will, "change it into an FBI ID?" I finished as the badge shifted into exactly that. I opened it to see my own photo, name, and a string of numbers.

"You know the answer. It just proves my point—you needed normal training before joining us."

"Seriously? That just proves I didn't. I learned that in a second. You think a course is needed?"

"That's not the only thing taught at—" she started, then trailed off as she knelt behind her desk.

"There you are," she said, standing back up with her own Guild badge in hand.

"You've been lecturing me while searching for your own?" I asked, pulling the shadowlight back from mine and letting it revert to its basic form.

"Oh, please. I lose stuff all the time. That's why I'm so good at finding it."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"I see you know how to turn it back. Good. Just don't grant it bound Authority or it'll break."

"Not a problem," Ever since I learned about it, I'd been trying to do that in my spare time, from time to time—without much success. It was as if I was hardcoded not to be able to give even a tiny bit of myself fully to the world. Though as with everything, practice makes perfect, so fingers crossed I'd be able to learn how to do that. Right now, however, it felt like it wasn't really something that useful to me.

Being connected to my things and able to remove Authority on a whim was much more useful than just leaving it there permanently, so I wasn't that motivated to gain that skill. Maybe if the fate of the world depended on it, but since that's not the case, I would do it slowly, at my own tempo.

"Come. We need to get to Staten Island," she told me.

"Can you take us there?"

"No, sorry, babe. No such luck."

"Babe?" she asked, opening the door for me and motioning me to go out of her office. We walked through the Hexblades headquarters, which looked remarkably like a typical police station, with desks in an open space and a few connected standalone offices like the one we'd just left. There were a few corridors leading out, and we took one, pushing the double doors aside. Only then, in the relative solitude of this place, did I answer her back.

"What can I say? I am playful like that."

"What are you talking about, Jess?"" The babe. What else?"

"I asked about that like a minute ago. Keep working on quicker responses."

"I was waiting for when we were alone. Didn't want to embarrass you in front of the colleagues."

"I ain't caring the slightest about being embarrassed. That's one. That wasn't embarrassing. That's two."

"Sure, partner." We stepped into the way-station housing the operational Ideworld gate. I'd passed through it before—several times, in fact—though I still preferred teleportation. It dominated the hall, dwarfing the Harvard gate I knew so well, that seemed more of a use of something natural that was in there and changed for the human usage. This thing was an engineering marvel instead. Easily twenty yards wide and just as tall, it rose from the main floor like a monumental doorway.

Its rectangular frame was built not just for people but for bulk and weight—cars, cargo, even trucks, one of which was rumbling through as we entered, its headlights warping and stretching as they vanished into the gate's surface. The frame was assembled from massive beams of some unfamiliar steel alloy that absorbed light rather than reflected it. Wrapped tightly around these beams was a dense lattice of optic fibers, thick as ropes in places, alive with flowing shadowlight.

The illumination moved, coursing through the fibers in slow currents. Marek had tried to explain the mechanics to me last week—something about generators, harmonics and subfloor conduits—but it had gone far beyond anything I could grasp. Whatever powered it lay hidden beneath the stone and metal of the floor, humming faintly when one got closer. The cables converged at seven evenly spaced points along the frame, each terminating in a crystal sphere the size of a human head.

The crystals were imperfect, faceted and clouded within, as if something were stirring deep inside them. From these nodes, the shadowlight was projected inward of the structure, stretching across the empty rectangle and weaving itself into a membrane. The gate's surface resembled neither a solid nor air. It undulated like a vertical lake caught in a perpetual storm, layers of mist and liquid light folding into one another.

Occasionally, fissures flashed across it—thin, jagged cracks like lightning trapped under ice, eerily similar to the natural openings I'd seen before. Through them came brief glimpses of the other side so similar to the one we were in. Both of us came to the guard station placed a few good yards away, flashed our badges, and were allowed to go back to Earth through the gate.

We did the same on the other side, and for the first time ever since I started visiting this place, instead of going for the left corridor out, which led to a smoke shop inside Grand Central, we took another one that led to a wide tunnel where the truck I'd seen earlier was driving slowly, accompanied by a few guildsmen. We overtook it on foot and came to something that looked like a smaller version of the Ideworld gate, but I could clearly see an underground parking garage on the other side.

"What's that?" I asked. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"It's some form of a gate that makes it so we can move through the wall from this side undisturbed," she answered, just as one of the cars moved in from the parking lot.

"And that? How is it going through it?"

"If you have the badge, the wall from the parking side is semi-translucent, showing you that it can be passed, with you or anyone around twenty yards around you, including trucks, cars, or even a plane if you somehow manage to get it in there."

"That's amazing."

"Is it? You can do the same with your holes, can't ya?"

"That's an inappropriate question for a lady," I answered back, and she giggled.

"I really like your style, Jess. I am a bit nervous about workin' with you, but your sense of humor is right up my alley."

"I am glad to hear that," I replied as we finally went through the wall. My anticipation died out as soon as we did. It felt no different than walking through the air—which was probably the whole point—but still, a bit disappointing. I moved in silence then, up to an old Chevy Impala in matte black.

"Hop in, bunny girl," Caroline invited me, and I took the shotgun position. She sat behind the wheel and, with a low whirl of the engine starting, moved the car out of its spot.

"Finally!" Loki's voice reached me from the back seat as she emerged from Caroline's dimension.

"Jess! Me happy!" I reached into my pocket, where I held a sticker with a painted ear on it, and hid it between my fingers as I moved my hand to scratch Goldilocks behind her ears in the back. She seemed to love the rubbing, which allowed me to move my hand a bit lower toward her collar, where, with a slight of hand, I managed to glue the sticker onto the inside of it.

"Don't stop," the dog whispered, and I continued, while Anansi muted the source of sound from that ear.

"Where we go?"

"We are looking for a bad guy, Loki. One I told you about a few days ago. Uses music to hurt people."

"Raspberry?"

"Yes. The same."

"Raspberry?" I repeated the dog's question as we moved out of the underground and onto New York City streets.

"We've been to the crime scene, and the man—Robert—smelled of some raspberry cologne."

"Hmm. I didn't make that connection myself."

"You don't have a dog's nose."

"Nope, I don't," I answered. I had upgraded the one on my mask from rabbit's to bear's, following Leben's suggestions. But at the time, I was too focused on what had happened to notice how the Rhythm smelled. With the new smelling apparatus, I'd most likely top Loki's abilities—unless the Authority granted by Caroline made them still superior even to that, which couldn't be ruled out.

Her question made me think about the noses again; about how I had subconsciously bypassed the restrictions of my power to make the one on my mask function. Instead of creating a separate organ, I had convinced my own nose it was more capable, allowing my brain to interpret the incoming particles more precisely. A fully reconstructed, physical nose—like the one on the former Usagi mask—should have worked perfectly well even without any connection to mine.

It and the scents it detected would exist on the same plane, within the same three-dimensional world. Maybe I should learn sculpting after all and start planting little nose statues everywhere.

"I smell you," Loki said, throwing her long tongue out of her cute mouth.

"Yes, I know. I just scratched you."

"I smell you on neck," she continued, much to the detriment of my plan.

"That's where I scratched you," I replied, trying to outsmart the dog. What had the world come to?

"Oh," the dog answered, while Caroline stayed focused on the road.

"Do we know anything about him?"

"Oracle felt someone using music-related Authority on the island. There was some gang activity in the area reported to local police. I left a note to look for both in relation to each other, and we got a hit, so I am going to investigate," she answered.

I let my focus drift outside, to the city after dark—the red glow of taillights bleeding into one another ahead of us, the sharp yellow and white of oncoming headlights slicing past, and the countless other lights scattered all around, a restless constellation trapped in glass and steel. Somewhere beneath it all, music hummed softly from the radio, a steady presence that blended with the motion of the car. Caroline reached forward and turned the dial, static crackling briefly before another song slipped in.

I didn't really listen to the words, just let the sound wash over me, rising and falling with the city lights, as New York slid by outside the windows. Music soothing me in my travel. A companion for now, when soon I expected it to become an enemy once more.

We walked slowly in the general area pointed out by the seers that constituted the Oracle system. There was very little chance of Robbie smelling the way he had when he killed his brother, so although Loki was on the lookout—or rather, the smell-out—for him, we were wary of everything that might point us toward his whereabouts.

"I've never been on Staten Island Ideworld's version," Caroline said, breaking the silence.

"I have no idea what's in there."

"Are you implying you don't know why he would be here? Does it even matter?"

"Everything matters—""No, don't start with preaching. I get the general concept. Every detail is important in the big picture, right?"

"Yes. That's generally what I wanted to say."

"In art it isn't always true. Sometimes details are totally irrelevant to the reception."

"This ain't an art."

"I know, but the exception to the rule still applies. We don't know what's on the other side, so wasting time looking for an answer to the why question would be just that—a waste."

"What question is worth answering?" she asked.

"Who is he."

"He is a self-righteous prick with anger issues," Caroline whispered back.

"That would be my assessment as well."

"It's based on your and Leben's testimony. But I get what you're trying to say. He'd have a difficult time staying completely under the radar. He'd feel the need to show his dominance in whatever hierarchy is in here."

"Unless he didn't care and he was here just for a while."

"There would still be some power struggle and victims thereof."

"So why are we just on a fucking stroll?"

"We aren't. We are on our way to a veterinarian clinic that is open 24/7 in here. I didn't want to make too much fuss about us driving close by. It's better to come unannounced in such cases, and best if you bring your own animal."

"Vet? You think his victims were treated there? So you already came to the same conclusions I did?"

"More or less."

"Why did you let me go on a tangent then?"

"What better way to check what your reasoning is? So far I've seen you in action and confrontation. Some show-offs too. I wanted to see the brain that ticks behind those green eyes."

"Okay. Fine. How do you know it's this clinic?"

"It was the subject of some investigations in the past. Nothing came out of them, but that just means they fooled the police. They ain't fooling us, right Loki?"

"Yes," the dog whispered. I swear it was a real whisper. I had to admit that at that point I was pretty impressed with her. Not only did she come up with a reasonable plan, but she also executed it in a way that made me think it through. She also had a damn cute dog. I might yet rethink all of that Hexblading. I slowed my steps as the vet clinic came into view. The sign above the door was a little washed out, but it clearly said Open 24/7. The street was quiet at this hour.

There was a faint light on inside, coming from somewhere deeper in the clinic rather than the front desk. It spilled through the window in a soft, muted glow and reflected off the glass door. I caught my own reflection for a second before pulling it open—my fiery red hair, green eyes, and full lips. It felt easy jumping into the clear skin of Jess Hare. It had become my most used persona over the years, and for a good reason too. She was playful where I was tense and overly careful.

She was more sexy than me too, and this worked wonders when dealing with thugs who didn't expect her to also be smart and cunning. A small bell chimed as I stepped inside, forcing me to focus at least one of my brains back on the task at hand. The place smelled clean, like disinfectant and a little bit of fur. The reception area was empty, but not abandoned—papers neatly stacked, a computer screen still on, a half-finished mug sitting beside it. Someone was clearly around, just not at the desk.

I stood there for a moment, listening for any sign of movement in the back.

"Hello? Anybody here?" Caroline called, while Loki curled herself up on one of the nearby armchairs, looking all solemn and hurt all of a sudden, her breathing becoming quicker and more shallow. A ruckus followed from the back—something hitting the floor, then something else again—before a man emerged. A balding older guy with just stray silver hairs that had long overstayed their welcome. He adjusted his spectacles as he approached us.

They were small but thick, and looked unfitting on his faint face with sagging cheeks. He was bent too, as age and a tired spine forced him more and more to bow in thanks for the life he already had behind him. There were lines on his face—deep ones—that suggested he was used to smiling more often than feeling anger.

"Good evening, ladies," he coughed more than he said, spitting something out but catching it in the sleeve of his cardigan.

"Excuse me. I am too old for this, but I love animals too much to just give up on them."

"That's so sweet," Caroline replied. I decided to stand guard and watch, but remain silent unless asked for an opinion. I did ask one of my spidery eyes to crawl up my neck to the base of my hair and let me see what was in the back. Two more repeated the movement and rested on the sides of my neck, hidden in the shadows my hair cast. They watched for me.

"My golden retriever doesn't seem well. She is usually super-duper cheerful, but right now she is sad and I think she is hurting. Whimpering from time to time. Walking here was a challenge."