Damn, I was tired when it happened. Just got off a case, told Jonas to hold all the calls, and was ready to put my feet up. Finally closed the Worthing girl’s kidnapping case. Crazy kultists got their hands on the kid, God only knows what their plans were for her. Really, I just got lucky in finding her. An anonymous tipper called in this morning, said he heard a little girl’s screams coming from a warehouse down on 4 a few days ago, by the cargo storage district. Something about finding a sweater that matched the description on hers in a gutter nearby.
I didn’t think I’d find anything, trail so cold like it was, but a lead is a lead. When I got there I heard the chanting so I poked my head in, and there they were. Parents paid the ransom this morning, so it was time to sacrifice the victim. I don’t know what it is, but when you see a 13 year old girl in her underwear, tied to an altar and crying, you just have to do something. There’s no other choice. So, like an idiot, I gave a quick scan with the oculi, pulled my gun and went in shooting. Damn kultists got a few hits on me, but Alice is sleeping in her own bed tomorrow after she gets out of the hospital. Needless to say I had to get a few liquid skin patches myself, not to mention a few old fashioned bandages. Even more needless to say, I was in no mood for foolishness when she walked in the office door.
“There’s someone here to see you,” Jonas buzzed. “Client maybe.” I sighed. The Worthings credits had been good and my account was lush again, but who knows how long it lasts. No one is so rich as to turn away a client has always been my motto, so what choice did I have but to at least hear her speak her piece? “Send her in,” I said.
The electronic locks clicked and she stepped inside. Immediately a few silent alarms pinged on the security screen at my desk so I checked to see what was up. She was carrying, good. Some kind of small Class 1 strapped to the thigh. Good. I like a woman who carries a piece, you know where you stand with that kind of gal. There was also some kind of a blade, sheathed, at her back under her jacket. Didn’t register dimensional, but who knows these days. Seems like some days the admonium is just lying in the street for the taking. So she might be a kultist and if she was then she didn’t want me to know it. This just gets better and better.
I pulled out the bottle. “Can I offer you a glass of Silver, Ms…?” I started to pour one for myself and reached for a second glass while I was sizing her up.
She was about 5’10”, maybe a little taller. Wore a long red dress like it was painted onto her, in fact maybe it was. Short black jacket with some kind of shine to it, leather from some daemon I’ve never seen. Long straight hair in a deep shade of red that I had to wonder if it was natural. Meh. Her problem I guess. Piercing green eyes…maybe too piercing. Cybernetics? I’m still not sure. If so, they’re some of the most subtle ones I’ve ever seen. I know a bunch of sceners who’d love to get the name of her cyberfix.
A smile that would melt butter and the knife it came on. “No thanks, Mr. Hill. I came to talk business.”
“That’s Park-Hill.” I hate it when people get my name wrong. “And suit yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I meant no offense.”
Of course she didn’t. You’ve gotta lay down the law right off the bat with clients like this one, or they’ll be walking all over you ‘til the day you die.
“It looks to me like you’ve got a blade on your back, ma’am. Any chance I could see it before we keep talking? I don’t take kultist clients.”
The sweetness of the smile only intensifies. “Of course,” she said, “I completely understand.” So she pulls out the knife. Clear as crystal, sharp as a razor. The kult blade of the Azure Hyaline. The “good guys.” Okay, let’s see what she wants.
“Okay, have a seat,” I tell her. “What can I do for you? Oh, and I still didn’t get your name.”
She doesn’t sit. Their type never sit, they just pose. “Wellington,” she tells me. Now at last we’re getting somewhere. “Ms. Wellington will do nicely, if you don’t mind. They say on the street that you’re one of the best investigators that money can buy. Well, there’s something I need and my pockets run deep. Think you could help me out?”
I mulled it over. I didn’t like it. Not one bit. The whole thing just smelled wrong to me. She was a little too charming, a little too forthright, a little too…I don’t know. Sexy. That’s it, just a little too sexy for someone who wanted anything simple. “Go on,” I said.
“It’s a Reliquary,” she replied. “An artifact that is sacred to many, and powerful to many more. If it were to fall in the wrong hands…well…let’s just say that certain powers that neither you nor I are very fond of would suddenly have a lot of abilities that neither you nor I would want them to have. I, and my church, would like to retain your services to find it for us.”
“What does it do?”
A toss of that impossibly straight, impossibly red hair to bring it over one shoulder. Another sweet smile. “I honestly don’t know. We suspect it can do some things related to changing forms, because we know that it can have its shape changed. Anyone sufficiently trained can make it look like whatever they want.”
I didn’t think I’d find anything, trail so cold like it was, but a lead is a lead. When I got there I heard the chanting so I poked my head in, and there they were. Parents paid the ransom this morning, so it was time to sacrifice the victim. I don’t know what it is, but when you see a 13 year old girl in her underwear, tied to an altar and crying, you just have to do something. There’s no other choice. So, like an idiot, I gave a quick scan with the oculi, pulled my gun and went in shooting. Damn kultists got a few hits on me, but Alice is sleeping in her own bed tomorrow after she gets out of the hospital. Needless to say I had to get a few liquid skin patches myself, not to mention a few old fashioned bandages. Even more needless to say, I was in no mood for foolishness when she walked in the office door.
“There’s someone here to see you,” Jonas buzzed. “Client maybe.” I sighed. The Worthings credits had been good and my account was lush again, but who knows how long it lasts. No one is so rich as to turn away a client has always been my motto, so what choice did I have but to at least hear her speak her piece? “Send her in,” I said.
The electronic locks clicked and she stepped inside. Immediately a few silent alarms pinged on the security screen at my desk so I checked to see what was up. She was carrying, good. Some kind of small Class 1 strapped to the thigh. Good. I like a woman who carries a piece, you know where you stand with that kind of gal. There was also some kind of a blade, sheathed, at her back under her jacket. Didn’t register dimensional, but who knows these days. Seems like some days the admonium is just lying in the street for the taking. So she might be a kultist and if she was then she didn’t want me to know it. This just gets better and better.
I pulled out the bottle. “Can I offer you a glass of Silver, Ms…?” I started to pour one for myself and reached for a second glass while I was sizing her up.
She was about 5’10”, maybe a little taller. Wore a long red dress like it was painted onto her, in fact maybe it was. Short black jacket with some kind of shine to it, leather from some daemon I’ve never seen. Long straight hair in a deep shade of red that I had to wonder if it was natural. Meh. Her problem I guess. Piercing green eyes…maybe too piercing. Cybernetics? I’m still not sure. If so, they’re some of the most subtle ones I’ve ever seen. I know a bunch of sceners who’d love to get the name of her cyberfix.
A smile that would melt butter and the knife it came on. “No thanks, Mr. Hill. I came to talk business.”
“That’s Park-Hill.” I hate it when people get my name wrong. “And suit yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I meant no offense.”
Of course she didn’t. You’ve gotta lay down the law right off the bat with clients like this one, or they’ll be walking all over you ‘til the day you die.
“It looks to me like you’ve got a blade on your back, ma’am. Any chance I could see it before we keep talking? I don’t take kultist clients.”
The sweetness of the smile only intensifies. “Of course,” she said, “I completely understand.” So she pulls out the knife. Clear as crystal, sharp as a razor. The kult blade of the Azure Hyaline. The “good guys.” Okay, let’s see what she wants.
“Okay, have a seat,” I tell her. “What can I do for you? Oh, and I still didn’t get your name.”
She doesn’t sit. Their type never sit, they just pose. “Wellington,” she tells me. Now at last we’re getting somewhere. “Ms. Wellington will do nicely, if you don’t mind. They say on the street that you’re one of the best investigators that money can buy. Well, there’s something I need and my pockets run deep. Think you could help me out?”
I mulled it over. I didn’t like it. Not one bit. The whole thing just smelled wrong to me. She was a little too charming, a little too forthright, a little too…I don’t know. Sexy. That’s it, just a little too sexy for someone who wanted anything simple. “Go on,” I said.
“It’s a Reliquary,” she replied. “An artifact that is sacred to many, and powerful to many more. If it were to fall in the wrong hands…well…let’s just say that certain powers that neither you nor I are very fond of would suddenly have a lot of abilities that neither you nor I would want them to have. I, and my church, would like to retain your services to find it for us.”
“What does it do?”
A toss of that impossibly straight, impossibly red hair to bring it over one shoulder. Another sweet smile. “I honestly don’t know. We suspect it can do some things related to changing forms, because we know that it can have its shape changed. Anyone sufficiently trained can make it look like whatever they want.”
Oh, that is it. This is absolute bullshit. Not only is this broad trying to seduce me, and not only is she trying to send me after something supposedly powerful that she can’t even describe to me, but on top of all that she’s obviously lying to me. This just doesn’t sit right.
“I’m sorry, Miss, but I don’t take these kinds of jobs. You can’t give me anything to go on and I think you know more than you’re telling me.”
Suddenly, her face broke in front of me. The confident femme fatale in front of me melted to reveal a woman on the brink of tears. “I’m…I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I only just joined the kult, and they want me to find this thing that they say is so important. I don’t have the skills to find it myself, but thanks to my family I have money. I figured maybe I could just hire you…?”
Ah, okay, so that’s the angle here. Now it all makes sense. Honestly, I still should’ve said no. Hindsight is 20/20, right? At the time all I could see was a young woman close to tears. I had seen enough girls crying today.
“Sigh. All right, I’ll take the case.” She brightened up a little at that. “My fee is six hundred credits per day, plus one-tenth the item’s total value when I deliver it.”
“Okay,” she nodded. “Six hundred credits per day and nine thousand credits on delivery. No, ten thousand let’s call it.”
!
“Okay,” I said. “Deal.”
She looked uncertain for a moment. “Do I…do I get some kind of a contract? Something written down for me to take back to the church?”
I sighed again. It had been a long enough day without this broad wanting the paperwork, but who knows what her superiors would do to her if they found out that she’d just authorized that kind of credits and didn’t even get a receipt. “Sure thing,” I said, and buzzed for Jonas. “Jonas, bring me one of the standard search-and-locate contracts.”
A second later Jonas brought in the datapad, we filled in the terms, and we both swiped our credbases to it. “There,” I said, handing her the pad, “That gonna work for you?”
In a heartbeat, the femme fatale was back. She took the pad from me with a smile like a snake, and slid it into some pocket inside her jacket. “Oh yes, Mr. Park-Hill,” she said, “That will do nicely. Your new contact with our kult will be most acceptable, and we always pay our debts.”
Yeah, ‘cuz that’s not ominous or nothin’.
She stalked past a goggle-eyed Jonas back to the door. She paused by the doorframe and placed one hand on it to turn. Guess she wanted a dramatic exit.
“On behalf of my kult, we’d like to thank you for your service. A slave courier will be over soon with a pad that has all the data we have on the Reliquary. Feel free to…dispose of her as you please.” The snake smile turned into a wolf smile as she left the office and sauntered down the hall.
Shit. Maybe the femme fatale wasn’t the lie after all…
“I’m sorry, Miss, but I don’t take these kinds of jobs. You can’t give me anything to go on and I think you know more than you’re telling me.”
Suddenly, her face broke in front of me. The confident femme fatale in front of me melted to reveal a woman on the brink of tears. “I’m…I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I only just joined the kult, and they want me to find this thing that they say is so important. I don’t have the skills to find it myself, but thanks to my family I have money. I figured maybe I could just hire you…?”
Ah, okay, so that’s the angle here. Now it all makes sense. Honestly, I still should’ve said no. Hindsight is 20/20, right? At the time all I could see was a young woman close to tears. I had seen enough girls crying today.
“Sigh. All right, I’ll take the case.” She brightened up a little at that. “My fee is six hundred credits per day, plus one-tenth the item’s total value when I deliver it.”
“Okay,” she nodded. “Six hundred credits per day and nine thousand credits on delivery. No, ten thousand let’s call it.”
!
“Okay,” I said. “Deal.”
She looked uncertain for a moment. “Do I…do I get some kind of a contract? Something written down for me to take back to the church?”
I sighed again. It had been a long enough day without this broad wanting the paperwork, but who knows what her superiors would do to her if they found out that she’d just authorized that kind of credits and didn’t even get a receipt. “Sure thing,” I said, and buzzed for Jonas. “Jonas, bring me one of the standard search-and-locate contracts.”
A second later Jonas brought in the datapad, we filled in the terms, and we both swiped our credbases to it. “There,” I said, handing her the pad, “That gonna work for you?”
In a heartbeat, the femme fatale was back. She took the pad from me with a smile like a snake, and slid it into some pocket inside her jacket. “Oh yes, Mr. Park-Hill,” she said, “That will do nicely. Your new contact with our kult will be most acceptable, and we always pay our debts.”
Yeah, ‘cuz that’s not ominous or nothin’.
She stalked past a goggle-eyed Jonas back to the door. She paused by the doorframe and placed one hand on it to turn. Guess she wanted a dramatic exit.
“On behalf of my kult, we’d like to thank you for your service. A slave courier will be over soon with a pad that has all the data we have on the Reliquary. Feel free to…dispose of her as you please.” The snake smile turned into a wolf smile as she left the office and sauntered down the hall.
Shit. Maybe the femme fatale wasn’t the lie after all…
