Reality Bypass

AnnaLisa StormCrow 1983-2008, beloved daughter, wife and friend…

I used to be.

I used to be a lot of things.

I’m not a ghost, in case you worry about such things. People tend to make assumptions just because you have a gravestone it means you’re dead. But there are lots of kinds of dead, and I’m only dead on paper.

One of these days I’ll be dead for keeps, but not tonight.

I eyed the window in front of me, watching the static of the security system play over the silvery reflective glass. This was going to be harder than I’d been lead to believe. Not that harder was a problem. It just meant I was going to charge more.  The benefit of taking a bigger job than usual was an employer who could pay a little more.  It was a nice thought.

The wind shifted, making my support ropes quiver and I looked up, even though I knew I’d secured everything. I was a long way off the ground and didn’t want to get down the fast and messy way.

Focus dammit. I scolded myself, fishing around in my hip bag until I came up with a length of jacketed wire with alligator clips on both ends. I flipped goggles down over my eyes, the electric arcs now bright along the metal backed glass, and the relays at each side of the glass easily visible. I pressed the tip of one gloved finger at the corner of the window where the glass met the stone of the building struts.

A breath and I let Essence flow through my fingertips, enhanced by the gloves, and into the stone. All Essence workers are attuned to certain things, the world responding to them as it will.  There were many things I could do with what power I had left, but most of it dealt with the forces of the earth.  Stone was easy.  If the building had been all glass I would have been screwed.

Under my fingers the space between molecules widened and the stone softened, pieces trickling out in a slow rush of rock dust until I could pull out a fist sized chunk and see the electric work behind it.

Sweat gathered between my shoulder blades as I worked the same trick on the opposite side of the window. This kind of shaping was delicate work. It would have been easier to find a stress point and blow it to hell, but any moderately gifted thug could do that. The point of this exercise was to be quiet, which is why it was me and not someone else.  I pocketed the largest pieces of stone, so I could return them later, and maneuvered the wire into place clamping the alligator jaws on opposing positive poles and sending the current arcing through it.

I waited a full minute, allowing for alarms or secondary security to kick in, but it just kept doing what it was doing, the electricity humming along. I pushed the goggles up and pulled myself up higher, working the seal at the top of the window. A whisper of Essence and the flat edge of a sharp knife separated the glass from the seal and I eased it inward, lowering it until it touched the floor without breaking before slipping into the room.

It smelled different than I thought it would.  Not the cold scent of air conditioning and janitorial supplies like most businesses, but the scents of earth and wind and toffee cookies.  I unclipped from the ropes, creeping across the room.  I knew from the layout prints of the Granite Supply offices where everything was.  My employer had been very clear: granite desk, table to the right, two chairs and filing cabinets to the left, where I needed to be.  I pulled out an LED penlight, pressing the switch and sticking it between my teeth.  Soft blue light fell on the cabinets which were stone too.  Someone around here was into heavy furniture.

I touched the top of the cabinet, frowning at the feel.  The surface was soapy indicating stone worked by Essence.  It didn’t bode well, and for the first time I began to wonder if maybe I should have passed this one up.  Not that I could afford to pass up any work.  When you’re dead it’s difficult, at best, to get an eight to five job.  For someone like me, a supposed traitor, it’s impossible, and most mystical jobs are out of the question too which means taking any job there is in order to eat.

I like eating.

I sent a brush of Essence through the glove, focusing it around the lock, but it slid off.  Like pouring water over a waxed surface the Essence trickled around and dissipated.   Dammit.

I eyed the lock, grumpy.  Someone had thought to ward their files against mystical intrusion.  This job was getting more expensive by the moment.  I twisted the head of the flashlight, narrowing the beam, and then removed a long hook and a hair thin wire from my belt.  The cabinet was mystically protected.  I could break through it with enough force, but it lacked an electric lock and I wanted to be subtle.  This was a matter of tumblers and time.

I fed the wire onto the hook and into the lock, twisting the metals as I went.  The hook caught at one point, but a little creative push and pull and it slipped through.  I focused on the lock, Essence in my fingertips, but more importantly in my ears.  I could hear the tumblers as they knocked together, reacting to my motions.  I pushed harder, the head of the hook catching behind the last tumbler.  A twist and a whisper of Essence and the lock popped, over loud.  I retrieved the tools and opened the top drawer, sorting for the file I’d been hired for and nothing else.  I admit to being a thief, but damned if I’m going to be a bad one.

“Looking for something in particular?”

I startled as the voice rose from near the doorway, sounding curious and amused.  I didn’t bother to answer, or to question how long he’d been standing there.  It was enough someone was there.  I grabbed the folder and flicked the light off with my tongue, hurling myself back towards the window.

A very large, very solid body slammed into me halfway through my run and we both spun through the open pane, the wire I’d set catching across my shoulders and pulling free.  I’m sure an alarm went off, but as I was plunging towards my death as road pancake I didn’t care.  I did manage not to scream and hang onto the folder.  I needed this paycheck.

“Foolish girl.”

Even falling, whoever this was remained amused, which annoyed the hell out of me.  He could at least be as terrified as I was; it was his fault we were both going to die and it would hurt.  I closed my eyes and his fingers closed around the webbing of my belt, jerking me upward hard, sending my light tumbling.  I was going to have bruises, but I preferred bruising over splatting.

I twisted around enough to get a good look at the man and got an impression of size and enormous wings catching the updraft and carrying us higher.  At another time I might have thought he was an angel, now I wasn’t betting on it…an angel would have let me drop.

He shook his hand, letting me bounce on the belt.  “If you keep wiggling I may just drop you.  This isn’t as easy as it looks.”

There was no doubt it was a threat and I held very still.  I didn’t catch my breath until we’d passed the open window, come up over the short roof ledge and landed.  His clawed feet hit first, though they didn’t dig into the smooth stone.  To my surprise he released me, taking a step back and straightening.

The diffused lights from the building ran over the curve of large batlike wings sprouting from his back and the fit of his dark suit, which was obviously tailor made.  It would have to be considering the wings, and the fact he was over seven foot tall with a barrel torso which would put professional football players to shame.  When he moved there was the sense of thick muscle and solid dark flesh, an echo of the stone the building was wrought from.  His eyes were as black as mine, and he sported thick salt and pepper grey hair, tied off in a pony tail at his nape.

Well…this sucked…

We stood there for what felt seemed a very long time, me trying to decide what he was and him watching me try to decide what he was.  I determined he wasn’t human, the wings were a give away and I noticed nubbed horns at his temple, but he wasn’t demon or stalker.  His energy was wrong for a shifter and a winged troll hadn’t been seen in the United States for a hundred years.

He spoke, breaking my mental recitation of creatures of Denver.  “It seems I’ve caught myself a thief and now I am in a quandary as to what I should do with her.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, so he couldn’t see I was shaking.  I’m all about a good rush, and in other circumstances the drop and flight might have been fun, but I was alone with a creature who might pitch me back into freefall.  I didn’t have the protection of being a Sentinel and no excuse for what I’d been doing.  Beyond all the immediate physical dangers he could call the cops or the PeaceKeepers which would be worse.

He cleared his throat and I realized he was waiting for an answer.

“I don’t suppose we could forget all about it?”

His laughter was a rumble, settling in my chest like the pounding of a drum.  He shook his head, moving closer until I was trapped between him and the edge of the roof.  “I fear that is quite impossible.”  He nodded towards the folder I still held.  “You’ve something which doesn’t belong to you.”

I felt stone behind me and a shimmer of Essence danced over the pads of my gloves.  He was making me nervous and I tried to gauge how close the ropes were – too far to jump even if I felt like trying for extensive acrobatics.  “Back off.”

“Do I frighten you?”

“No!  I’ve seen better, and more frightening.”

“Liar.  I can hear your heart pounding.”  He tapped his thumb and fingers against each other, clawed nails clacking.  “Thumpa thumpa thumpa…”

The accusation sparked anger and I raised my gaze, glaring at him.  He was taller than me by nearly a foot making it harder to look tough.  “I’m not afraid of you.”  It was mostly true.  It wasn’t him I was worried about.  It was what he might do.  There was a difference.

“Perhaps not.  Perhaps you are so foolish.”  He reached for my chin and Essence crackled over my skin, little electric sparks, a natural reaction to the possible damaging of my person.  Once I’d worn my Essence as armor and I wouldn’t have worried about his touch or plowing into the pavement.  All I had now was shreds.

“Don’t.” 

He hesitated and a slow smile turned his lips.  “No?”  His clawtip brushed a wisp of dark hair away from my throat, the touch sending a shock down both his skin and mine.  It made the back of my eyeballs itch.  “Very well.”  He lowered his hand, leaning against the building ledge backed by glittering city lights.  I might have taken the opportunity to run like hell but there was a sense about him, wary and prepared, like a cat watching an interesting mouse.  If I moved he’d pounce and I’d be squished, which meant I needed to wait him out and stay interesting enough to keep from being eaten.

As though he could read my thoughts, he laughed.  “Bold.  Evan was right to hire you.”

Evan…  “Son of a bit…”  I stopped myself before completing the curse, glancing away, though not too far away.  I was pissed off, not stupid.  Evan Rawlinson had hired me for this job and the likelihood there just happened to be another Evan involved was about zero.  I scowled and flipped the folder open on a hunch.  Dammit all…  Blank pages.  A stack of blank pages.  I’d been set up.

“You jackass!  What are you playing at?”

“How were you planning on escaping the building?”  He leaned forward, eyes bright with interest.  “Rappelling to ground level?”

I frowned and glared, tempted to throw the folder.  “As though I’m going to tell?”

“Call it a test of employer employee relationships.”

“I’m not your employee.”

“You’re mistaken.”  The amusement was back in his tones and he drew his nails across the stone, leaving score marks.  “You contracted with my representative, Evan Rawlinson, for three jobs, each additional job based on the success of the former.  As you have completed the first job you are contracted to the second.”

I opened my mouth to retort, closed it again and looked at the folder.  “The job isn’t completed until I’ve returned the folder to Mister Rawlinson.  I could just leave it here and walk away.”

“And I could escort you to security, Miss Misery.”  He tilted his head to the side.  “They are aware of the alarm, but under orders to ignore it.  I think it would be to both of our advantages if you were to keep the folder and your meeting with Mister Rawlinson.”

“So I can work for a butt ugly…whatever you are?  I don’t think so.”

“Ahh…well, if such is your concern.”  He stuck out his hand to shake mine.  “I am Phileaus J. Cutler, the second, Chimera Lord of Denver East.”

I stared at his hand, my mouth protesting before my brain caught up to it.  “Chimeras are three headed Greek monsters.  You look like a gargoyle.”

“The Greeks stole the term for Echidna’s issue.  Chimera is our word, the proper name for my kind too often referred to as gargoyles.”  Phileaus sniffed, his nose wrinkling as though I’d waved something foul beneath his nostrils, and lowered his hand.  His voice rose.  “A gargoyle is nothing more than a grotesque water spigot, a guttermouth without life or form.  I am no simple gargoyle, but Chimera a Lord of Stone and Earth and can trace my lineage back to Geoff the Elder himself, the first of us to breathe who saw the birth of the world from the heart of the earth.”

“Okay, fine, so you’re a chimera, grand and powerful and everything.  So why do you need a sneak thief like me?”

Phileaus smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling, “Come tomorrow and find out.”

I wanted to slap the smug look off of his face.  “If you’re just going to tell me to come back tomorrow, why in the hell did you interrupt me?!?”

He turned away, moving towards the roof access door.  “Because, Miss Misery, Red Berry reported you weren’t just –a- sneak thief, but the best he’d ever seen.  I wanted to know personally what the best sneak thief was like and didn’t wish to wait.  You unlocked in less than a minute a case which took Evan two days to prepare.  You went around security with the requested minimum of fuss and destruction.  It is possible Red Berry was not lying through his teeth when he praised you.”  Phileaus swiped a key card along the door, the keypad flashing green.  “Return the stone and window to their rightful state on your way out.”

The door clicked shut and I sank down on the roof ledge, staring across the Denver skyline.  Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be normal again but I’m pretty sure I won’t.  I hugged the folder to my chest.  This job represented a month’s room and board.  No matter how my instincts were screaming I couldn’t walk away.  I couldn’t afford to walk away, and my boots were tired of the road.  “Stop moping.”  I spoke out loud, “Get the job done, get paid and stop thinking so damn hard.”  I rose to my feet and moved to the rope, tying back in and getting back to work.

© Jana Stocks Brown, 2008