A.I.R. Shattered Soul Page 3

  I was stumped. I had never been asked what I was before and wasn’t sure how to approach it. “Ah, I’m human.”

  “Sorry, I have only met a few people on this side. You smell different from the others.”

  “Oh, you’re smelling the Reader on her.”

  I gaped at Logan. He never told others what I could do.

  Logan noticed my dumbfounded expression. “Ah, well, anyway,” Logan stammered before catching himself. He turned once again to Rider. “We wanted to see how things were going. Make sure you’ve found the grocery store, maybe met some locals and that sort of thing.”

  “How often will you be checking in?” asked Rider. He watched me.

  Was he smelling me? How creepy is that?

  “Oh, probably every other week or so to start. Once you get settled in, we’ll come less frequently if you’d like.”

  Rider nodded. “Do you need to know names of people I have met?”

  “Nothing like that,” I said quickly. Rider was guarded, and I wanted to put him more at ease. “We want to make sure you’re fitting in and have someone you can ask questions. That sort of thing.”

  “Travis has mentioned you two before,” Rider said. He looked at me as if I were a puzzle to solve.

  “Excellent!” I grasped onto the subject. “Travis is trustworthy and should be able to answer your questions.”

  “Sure, Travis shelters a few fairies and helped us set a troll up in one of the caves. Have you met any of the fairies?” Logan asked.

  “I met Essy while out on a run,” Rider admitted.

  “Get too close to her homestead?” asked Logan. “I swear that little woman nearly took my ears off when I went out looking for her one day. She dusted me so much I thought I’d itch for a week.”

  Rider seemed to loosen up a bit at hearing this. Fairies live among the plants and trees in the woods. To ward people away, they sometimes drop dust from ground-up poisonous plants. In Essy’s case, it’s usually a mix of poison oak and poison ivy, something that most people would be allergic to. She was trying to find something that would bring a reaction from me, so she could add it to her mix. Not that I had aggravated her, I had only met her a few times, but fairies kept their weapons close at hand, just in case.

  “Something like that.” Rider’s voice lost some of its edge and the atmosphere around our little group became a bit lighter.

  Logan scratched his temple and looked at me pointedly. “The fairies have had a bit of trouble recently.”

  I took the hint and opened the Path.

  Rider was a leery jumble of raw emotion. Pain, joy, anger, and happiness were under the surface. His Path rippled. Shades of green and brown vibrated from instinctual animal to the more complex hues and turns of human. It was beautiful to watch.

  And I was watching. Staring really, and Rider was staring right back, with his head cocked as if trying to examine my actions. I pushed the Path away and cleared my throat. I felt my face blush in the light of the sun.

  Logan said. “Were you around the Sanctuary today at any time?”

  Rider didn’t take his eyes off me. “No.” He didn’t offer any additional information.

  “It might be best to give the fairies a wide berth for a while. Have you seen anyone out there recently, besides them and Travis?”

  “No,” Rider said.

  I cleared my throat again. “Have you seen anyone around your house recently? Someone that didn’t belong here?”

  Rider looked confused. “I have seen you.”

  “Anyone besides us?” Was my face getting redder?

  “No.”

  “Everything else going well?” Logan asked.

  “I have met a few people. I have found the grocery store. I do not have any questions right now. Anything else?”

  An abrupt way to end our visit, but it was effective. We said goodbye and let him know to call us if there was anything he needed. Rider only nodded.

  As soon as we were back in the truck, I asked Logan, “Do I smell weird?”

  Logan laughed and nodded toward Rider. For the first time, I could see a grin on the werewolf’s face. Logan laughed again and started the truck. Without looking into a mirror, I knew my face was fully crimson.

  “He could hear me?” I asked.

  Chapter 3

  “Oh yeah,” Logan responded. “Werewolves have very good hearing. Better than most any creature that I know of. You smell fine,” Logan explained as he turned the truck around and started back down the driveway. “You smell a little different than most people. Actually, to a werewolf, you probably smell a great deal different. Each gift leaves a mark on the person. Did you get anything off him?”

  “His Path didn’t cross the ones we walked last night. His Path is— well, it’s unique. I would have noticed if he had been in the area of the wildflower field.”

  “At least we’ve ruled him out. We can head to the office.”

  I contemplated the different scents we had. What other kinds of markers do beings from the other side discern in us?

  All the way back to the office, Logan bobbed his head to music only he could hear. Every now and again, he would belt out something about being in a saddle. I listened while focusing on the coffee we stopped for. It had taken years to tame the West. I hoped this fad didn’t last as long. Still, it was better than show tunes. Logan’s last partner shot him over show tunes.

  Our offices were located at the Farm, a massive area of land fenced to look like a horse ranch. I vibrated with all the sugar and coffee coursing through my veins as we went through security. The only time I reflected on the fact that AIR was a government institution was when I received my paycheck from the US Treasury Department and when going through security. Logan entered the code to get past the first gate. Further in was a second gate and a much larger fence. Surveillance cameras monitored the fences twenty-four hours a day. Logan swiped our ID cards and moved on through.

  The job came with a government clearance, but that seemed to be a requirement for getting into the Farm. As far as I knew, we didn’t actually answer to any government agencies. We had never been audited, for instance, and there were never any inspections. As a former accountant, I had genuinely been curious about the audits so I looked it up. I couldn’t find a single record of one.

  We parked our car in front of the main office, a four story white stone building with many windows. Around back, you could reach the first basement level through loading docks, but sub-basements could be found under that. In the darkness, the glass doors to the building were well lit both inside and out. After pressing the fingerprint scanner and going through the deserted reception area, we went straight down the hall to command central. We had to swipe ID cards and perform a retinal scan before accessing the main room. Our boss, Barry Milner, and his shadow, Assistant Director, Kyrian Thorne, watched large monitors on the far side of the room. Most of the staff at the Midwest branch of AIR was human. Several agents had special abilities, but neither Barry nor Kyrian did, unless being suited for government work was a gift.

  From what I had heard from others, Barry, at one point, had been a remarkable field agent. Once he started moving up the chain of command, he moved quickly. Kyrian seemed good natured and nice to everyone, but it was fake. She didn’t want to step on any toes on her way up. It seemed to work for her, because she now shadowed Barry, even though she had only been with the organization for a few years. She had never done fieldwork, but that was probably for the best. She didn’t seem like the type to get her hands dirty.

  “Good timing,” Barry said as we approached. “We have a full team still at the Sanctuary. Have you interviewed the fairies?”

  Logan took the lead. “We have all the details they remember. I’ll get it written up tonight.”

  Barry handed a stack of papers to Logan. Logan promptly handed the papers off to me. Logan was allergic to paperwork. He preferred talking to people.

  “Put a copy on my desk. I want to know what they know,” Barry said.

  “There might be a related case.” Kyrian pulled out another file. Barry lifted an eyebrow. “A gnome went missing in Tennessee.”

  I moved to take the file, but Barry reached it first.

  “We’ll do more exploring to see if the case is related,” Barry said. “In the meantime, you two get to work on the case in front of you. Don’t get distracted.”

  Kyrian looked at me, a pleasant expression plastered on her face. “Cassie, during the interviews, uh, did you spot anything out of place?”

  Sighing, I started to say something fairly unfriendly about Kyrian’s complete lack of understanding, but Logan interrupted and started to lead me away. “We’ll make sure it’s in the report,” he said over his shoulder.

  “She’s clueless,” I muttered to Logan as we went to our desks.

  “True, but I doubt she’d appreciate hearing about it from you.”

  We had an office we could use, but we mostly worked on the main floor. Logan wanted to be around other people, not stuffed in a corner. I started reading the information in the files. Before clearing the second page, I rubbed my forehead, trying to relieve the building pressure. Everything ever written down about Essy’s tribe was in front of me. Tons of information needed to be waded through.

  Our job was usually simple. Set people up in their new homes, relocate, and make sure the Lost maintained their secrecy. We settled squabbles, helped them find suitable jobs, and made sure everyone found their way in their new world.

  This was murder. This was way over my head.

  Logan interrupted my reading with a fresh cup of coffee. “You should be scanning instead of reading.”

  “If I scan, I might miss something.”

  Logan sat on the edge of my desk. “Have you seen any new information?”

  “Nothing.” I sighed, seeing Logan’s point.

  “At this time in the investigation, it’s better to talk to people than read about it. If we wait around to read about it, we’re behind.”

  “Where do we start?”

  “All the information is getting funneled through Hank. I started with him while you read.”

  Hank is our handler and he reigns over the computer in the central hub of offices. He works with three teams of field agents.

  “The field team found the bullet and Clancy has brought it in. He’s the only one that might have something new at this point,” Logan said. “We’ll follow up with him next.”

  Clancy’s face was tense with concentration when we entered the office. His face was sweating. We waited.

  Clancy let out a breath. “Your staring isn’t helping.”

  I immediately looked elsewhere.

  Logan smiled. Some of Clancy’s tension fell away.

  I’m not immune to Logan’s contagious smile, but I ached with tiredness that wouldn’t allow the corners of my mouth to turn up.

  “How’s it going?” I asked.

  Clancy adjusted his tie and stared at the bullet casing. “It’s been handled too many times. Like someone passed it around to a bunch of people so we can’t get a fix on any one of them.”

  Logan raised an eyebrow. “On purpose?”

  Clancy shook his head. “No, no, that’s just the outcome of what they did.”

  “Maybe you should get some rest, and try again in the morning,” I suggested.

  “Maybe,” Clancy said. “I’ll send a field report to your printer now. That’ll give you all I know.”

  “Then, I guess we’ll mosey along,” Logan said, and tipped an imaginary hat.

  Our printer was back in our actual office, so I headed in that direction while Logan went back to the central office. Was I doing everything that I could? I sat at my desk, which had more dust than I expected, and the printer sprang to life. I thought through each step I had taken so far in the case, while pages spit themselves out. I was pretty sure we killed three trees a day by having the confidentiality disclaimers and protocols printed repeatedly. Our system and protocols seriously needed updating.

  Someone knocked on the office door.

  “Come in,” I said while tossing the confidentiality clause pages to the side.

  “Cassie?” asked the man who entered.

  “Hi,” I said. “Are you working on Essy’s case?”

  The man had dark hair, which looked like it had been cut short a few months ago and in bad need of a trim. He closed the door behind him and smiled at me.

  “Not exactly, I’m Vincent, from the Pacific North-West office.” He held his hand out for me to shake it.

  I clasped his hand and almost immediately began to feel a tug, not physically, but a pull on the energy surrounding me. I started to yank my hand back, but Vincent clamped down in a vice-like grip.

  “Hey!” I started. Vincent no longer smiled. He didn’t look mean, but wore a look of stony indifference.

  “Fiend, you will no longer be parading around in this world. There is no use struggling.”

  I began struggling like hell. His grip prevented me from wrenching my hand away, so instead, I kicked out, catching him in the knee. I felt my energy being drained away, forming a whirlpool with Vincent at the center. I used my free hand to reach for his face in an attempt to inflict maximum damage. He batted my hand away with ease. I tried again to pull away.

  “What are you doing?” I yelled. Instead of pushing away, I launched myself at Vincent. He was caught off guard and I smashed him up against the wall. With my free hand, I tried to punch him. I made contact, but not hard enough to break his grip. I felt weak all over. I tried to knee him in the groin, but he sidestepped me. I kicked out again, but there was no force behind my kick. Panic set in and I struggled, trying everything to get away from him.

  “Fiends are not allowed in the world. You will do no murder here.”

  Chapter 4

  “What the hell are you talk—” I fell to my knees before I could finish the sentence. I tried desperately to alter the flow of the power rushing away from me. Trying to open the path, I thought I could counteract Vincent, but it didn’t open and I felt myself being emptied away. Thoughts flitted through my head. Who was going to take care of Gran? Logan needed me. I was not finished yet!

  The man started lowering me to the ground. The struggles were futile, but I tried to pull back. I was spinning in a vortex with him at the center, all of me, not just my strength. I fell away. My eyesight began to dim. After failing to raise my arms in one last attempt of defense, I looked straight into Vincent’s eyes.

  He looked back and his indifference snapped. His eyes widened in surprise, and then his face filled with anguish as I stared up at him. His mouth opened in a yell, but I couldn’t hear. Who would have guessed that I would meet my murderer today? Closing my eyes, I fell into darkness.

  ***

  Someone talked, but I wasn’t cognizant enough to make it out. My own breath was the only noise I could make sense of. Dragging my eyes open was a challenge. They were only open for a few moments before a blinding light forced me to close them again.

  Once the light disappeared, an incessant chatter of words filtered in. My eyes opened with less effort the next time. I was propped up in a bed with Dr. Yelton standing over me. He was calm, but working quickly.

  Once I was able to focus on his words, I realized he was bombarding me with questions.

  “Can you tell me your name?” He paused. “Do you know where you are? Can you hear me?”

  I tried to answer the last question but the words came out wrong.

  “Can you understand me?” he asked.

  I think I nodded. I started to feel different parts of my body in detached ways. Again, his little flashlight glared into my face. I tried to push myself back, but my arms might just as well not been attached to my brain. They moved, but not in the directions that I wanted. Panic welled up. My breathing increased as I tried to get my limbs to work.

  Dr. Yelton tested my reflexes, while a blood pressure cuff tried to murder my arm. “Stay calm. We’re told that the effects are temporary. Do you know what happened?” he asked.

  I processed the question and thought hard. I remembered going to the printer.

  Vincent, my office— the handshake! Everything fell back into place. I looked around the room, worried about what I might find. The doctor and I were alone.

  “He’s in custody.”

  Gibberish popped out of my mouth when I tried to speak. The doctor winced.

  A nurse came into the room. “Test results are ready, Doctor.”

  Dr. Yelton continued to talk as he pulled information up on the computer. “I need you to tell me your name.”

  I took a few deep breaths, concentrating once again on the sound the air made while inhaling and exhaling.

  “Cassie,” I said. Finally, things were starting to flow again. I focused on my fingers, getting each one to bend and flex. Bit by bit, I began regaining control of my body.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said.

  I told him my story while he nodded at the computer screen. My sentences were choppy at first, but strong by the end. It was a short story.

  “You’ve had a run in with a Walker,” the doctor said. “Scans look good. There doesn’t appear to be any internal damage. Let’s check your reflexes again.”

  He poked and prodded and my body started to respond.

  “The Walker, Vincent Pironis, said the effects would be short-lived.”

  “Where is he? How did he get in here?” I asked.

  “They took him into custody. He’ll probably be in the first floor cells.”

  “He’s waiting in the interrogation room.” Logan strode into the room. “What’s the prognosis, Doc?”

  Dr. Yelton gave a questioning look. Even at AIR, the patient doctor relationship meant something. Maybe not as much as it should, but the doctor wouldn’t say anything in front of my partner without my permission. I nodded my approval.

  “She’s recovering. As Mr. Pironis indicated, all damage was temporary.”

  “How did he get in here?” I asked Logan.