Sevardin Harker. Venday, New Year’s Day, 2355. 11:53 PM. Arroyo (LeVoy’s Smoke Shop).
Sev couldn’t tell who shot first.
The horrible chain reaction started behind his back, two reports roaring near simultaneously. Sev was immediately deafened, and felt a spike of pain from Miller’s emanations. In front of him, Jahnz lunged toward Sev’s gun. Sevardin didn’t have a chance to shoot, but he pistol-whipped Jahnz across the jaw, dropping him to the floor.
One of Jahnz’ lieutenants—a twenty-something kid in a durag holding some kind of magnum—started to train his weapon on Sev. By the grace of his reflex contract, Sev managed to shoot first but the boy returned fire as he fell. The high caliber round punctured Sev’s barrier contract and bit into the meat of his right inner thigh.
Fuck! Apart from the blinding pain, he knew injuries to the thigh had to be treated immediately, or they would turn lethal. No idea if it got my femoral or not, but that’s already a lot of blood.
From the floor, Sev watched as Smith gunned down Jahnz’s other lieutenant, and Miller killed the kid who had been sampling the licenses. But Jahnz himself had risen and advanced on Sev, gun in hand. Before Jahnz could get a shot off, Miller and Sev fired at him in tandem, emptying their weapons into his chest.
Jahnz fell to the ground in front of Sev. His heart and lungs were shredded. Good as gone. Before the light left his eyes, he reached for Sev and said:
“I…curse you…”
Blood gushed through his clenched teeth.
“You…hear me… Harker? I curse…. you…”
Jahnz’s gaze fell to the floor. As he died, his wyrd flared sharply, reaching for Sev, then vanished.
Sev’s stomach sank. Using a dying breath to fuel a curse was a powerful, serious use of magic. Sevardin didn’t know if it was possible for somebody with an asfalis license to have the necessary output for a death curse. But if anything could overcome the inhibitor ink’s code… It would definitely be a death curse. And given how many curses there are out there, it seems probable.
Sev shuddered. He was losing blood fast.
He took stock of the scene as Smith cleared the rest of the back room. The techies had huddled themselves into a back corner, quaking with fear. Miller leaned against the back wall, holding his gut with one hand, and his Locke with another. He had been shot, but his barrier contract seemed to have eaten the worst of it. The kid who had taken him by surprise had collapsed in the doorway, wyrd gone.
That boy was too young to drive.
When Smith finished securing the room, he turned to Sevardin and then Miller, making the same sequence of gestures. Are you stable? Sev answered in the affirmative and gestured back for him to hold position. Smith took up a position covering the room’s two front entrances, while Miller leveled his weapon at the back entrance. Where was that common-sense fifteen seconds ago?!
Sev forced himself to clear his mind and drew upon the water animus in his right license cuff. He cast a binding spell which would hopefully keep him from bleeding out until help arrived. The binding worked better than a bandage, preventing the blood from leaking through the entry wound.
Sev felt his leg. No exit wound. Round’s still in my leg. Shit. He shivered, trying to keep himself from going into shock.
The wait for backup was eerie. They could hear the neighborhood stirring to life all around them, like a densely populated forest disturbed by predators. He heard the cadence of running footsteps from outside. Cries of “five-oh” and “jickers” echoed across the park next to the smoke shop.
Miller, having completed his own binding contract, reloaded his Locke and kept overwatch on the doorway. Sev scoffed despite his agony. If you did that from the beginning, instead of waving your gun around like a goddamn cowboy, we could have avoided this fucking massacre. Smith also reloaded, staying in a corner of the room that provided vantage on both entrances from the front.
If the Rollers decide they want to attack us… Sev shook his head. Please. God. No more bodies tonight.
Mercifully, the amagiate sirens drew nearer, now a chorus with asfalis law enforcement. After gods only knew how long, Sev heard Keepers storm the front of the smoke shop. And an instant later, more Keepers appeared into the rear doorway.
Jesus Christ. This is a travesty. A disgrace.
— Solday, Aquarius 2nd. 8:03 AM | Arroyo (Remington Memorial Hospital) —
Sevardin gave a barebones status report to the other officers who arrived on scene, taking care to tell them to search the house for illegal scrying wards that interfered with the scanner.
He was carried into an ambulance on short order, and he entered surgery early Satday morning. He woke up late that night to give Deputy Chief Hart a brief, informal debrief of what happened, then decided to go back to sleep rather than entertaining any visitors.
On Solday, he woke to a bland breakfast, followed immediately by his first visitor: Kaden Smith. Sev was too groggy to be properly angry, and well-wishing visits from partners were part of the grand ritual of Peacekeeping. He knew there would be time enough to dissect what went wrong in the future. Smith emanated respect and polite concern.
“Hey, Harker. Enjoying the pain meds?”
“Something like that,” Sev chuckled. “Hardly my first rodeo.”
“Yeah. You look good, all things considered. You’ve got family waiting, so I’ll be quick. I haven’t seen Miller yet, but the nurses say he’s stable. His stomach and chest were peppered with shot, but no serious damage. Uniform wards and barrier contract broke most of the impact.”
“Appreciate the update. They say I should be back on my feet in about two months,” Sev said, and then he asked, “How are you holding up, Smith?”
Smith looked almost amused. Confused at the very least.
“I came out free and clear thanks to you two.”
We shot five people to death last night. I would assume that would leave you with some misgivings. Regrets. Trauma. Something. Smith looked uncomfortable, but it had nothing to do with the gunfight. Nah. That’s the look of a man who needs to pay his respects to somebody he can’t abide.
“Anyway, Miller and I go way back, so I should—”
“Go,” Sev said. “Appreciate the update.”
Juel’s family was waiting when Smith left. Elamni, Ethano, and Ajola. He could tell from Elamni’s uncharacteristically stony expression that he was in for a lecture. Even Ethano was frowning. Picking up what his mother’s putting down. And I can understand their frustration. I scared them when they already have plenty to worry about.
“How are you feeling, mijo?” Ajola asked.
“Sore,” Sev admitted. “Nothing I can’t handle though.”
“You should take some time off,” Elamni said stiffly.
“Well, this will see me laid up for a couple months at least,” Sev chuckled.
“I meant after you recover. Take some time, okay? Get your head right.”
Sev bristled. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Elamni shook her head, but before she could speak, Ethano spoke up, glaring at Sev:
“You’re scaring us, Tio. I know it’s dangerous being a Keeper. I know this happens. But you used to be more careful. You can’t do your job if you don’t come home.”
He had heard Juel use the final phrase before. Fuck. Ajola bowed his head and put his hand on Ethano’s shoulder. Elamni’s expression seconded everything her son had said.She shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Sev. I’m not trying to kick you when you’re down. But Thano’s right. You’ve taken plenty of risks before. Demons, monsters, murderers. But you always take care of yourself and your partners.”
Sev laughed bitterly.
“Like that time I had both my legs broken?”
Elamni drew her head back but said nothing. Sev took a deep breath and avoided her eyes, afraid of answering her concern with anger. But my so-called partners are bloodthirsty fools. I can only do so much to keep them on a leash. This wasn’t my fault. He swallowed and chose his words carefully:
“World doesn’t stop turning when bad things happen, Lami. We’ve just got to roll with it.”
Elamni’s patience broke:
“Do you want to die, Sev?”
“Lami—” Ajola said, trying to interrupt.
“No,” Elamni said, accusing. “He went in without waiting for back-up. We saw your partner, Miller, before you got here. He told us what happened.”
Sev could feel his heartbeat against his skull.
“He blames me for this?” Sev demanded.
“No. He thinks you made the right call going in early. And he admits that he fucked up by not covering the door.” She shook her head. “I don’t care. Jecia and Juel wouldn’t have let you take that risk. You need to realize—”
“Jecia and Juel aren’t here,” Sev snapped. “And you need to realize I’m not yours to lecture.”
Sev regretted the words as soon as he said them. Elamni looked like he had slapped her. She took Ethano’s hand and led him out of the room without speaking another word. But Ajola remained, staring at Sev’s bedding. When he raised his gaze to look at Sev, his veins were tight against his temples and storms seemed to flash in his usually-gentle brown eyes. He had never looked at Sev that way before. Disappointed. Disgusted. Furious.
“That was way out of line, mijo.”
Sev bowed his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not me who needs the apology,” Ajola said sternly. “Elamni and Thano are right, Sev. You are vulnerable right now, and instead of being extra careful you’re being reckless. You need to think ‘what would my partners—what would my real partners tell me to do?’ You’ve told me what these M&M pendejos are like. That means you have to be better. And if you can’t do that, you need to sit it out until your head’s straight.”
Sev lowered his head, but his contrition was steadily giving way to anger again. You think this is helping me, Ajola? You think I’ve never had these thoughts before? Sev clenched his bedsheets. Buried his mind in his leg wound. I am doing my best, goddammit. I am barely holding on.
Ajola read Sev’s anger and turned away from the bed.
“I’ll see you around, Sev. Next time I’m here, I expect you to have one hell of an apology for my daughter-in-law.”
— 8:39 AM —
Sev’s mood continued to sink until his next visitor, Thonis Stroud, arrived to check in on him. The giant had a new hand, all artificed gearwork and synthetic sinews shelled in precious metal plates of bronze, brass, silver and gold. I thought his new hand was alchemical steel?
“Quite charming, isn’t it?” Thonis said, raising his hand and flexing his glittering fingers. “I think of this one as my ‘formal wear’ model.”
Sev wanted to laugh, but ended up choking. I can’t joke about that, man. I did that to you.
“Very sharp,” Sev managed finally.
“You’re not looking too bad yourself, given what you’ve been through,” Thonis said.
“Well, I’ve had lots of practice with getting beaten up.”
Thonis sat down in the chair next to Sev’s bed.
“What can I do to help?”
Sev folded his lip, shook his head, and shrugged.
“The visit means a lot, Thonis. But honestly, I’m doing fine.”
“No houseplants or pets that need seeing to?”
“You know us,” Sev said, then corrected himself. “You know me. Not a plants or pets kind of guy. Never been good at taking care of things.”
“Clearly,” Thonis chuckled.
Sev laughed with him. But there was an uncomfortable expectation in the air, something just beyond their emanations’ reach. Stroud wants something. Or he wants to tell me something.
“Something on your mind, big guy?” Sev asked.
Thonis seemed to consider deflecting, but ultimately leveled with him.
“I just… I can’t help but worry, Harker. Injuries put people in an awful mood, and you have already…”
“I’ve been through some shit,” Sevardin conceded.
“Yes. I don’t expect you to bare your soul now, especially not when you’re… still in the midst of things, but if you need somebody to talk to—”
“I appreciate the offer, Thonis,” Sev said, hoping to lay the matter to rest.
“It doesn’t have to be me either. But I think you’ve been carrying too much by yourself.”
Sev squinted at Thonis. What are you getting at?
“You talked to Lami,” Sev concluded.
“She was worried,” Thonis said simply. “And so am I.”
“Look. I snapped at Elamni. It was a moment of weakness. I am glad to know you have my back. I know I am loved. I know you’re worried about me. But prying at my mind? Now, of all times? This ain’t it.”
“I don’t mean to pry. But pushing friends away won’t help, Sevardin.”
“Okay, Thonis. Friend to friend? I need some space.”
Thonis pressed his lips together, like he was trying to prevent himself from saying something he’d regret. He gave Sev a curt bow and walked out.
— 12:18 —
“You have another visitor, if you’re feeling up to it, Detective,” his nurse told him, just after he had finished lunch.
Sev nearly told her to tell them to go to hell, but he managed to catch himself. No. If I push them away, Thonis is right about me. I’ll receive them out of spite. Unless it’s Ridger McCormick again. He can go to hell.
“Who is it?” He asked.
“Rickard Grimm,” she said.
Sev was tempted to turn him away. Grimm would understand at least. But he was probably the only person who would understand. I’ve been ducking invites from Grimm for nearly a month. Here we go. Sev nodded his thanks and asked the nurse to show in Grimm. A few seconds later, the shopworn ex-detective appeared in the doorway, accompanied by his characteristic scent of tobacco.
“Hanging in there, hero?” Grimm asked.
“Hope you’re ready for a fight because I’m two for two today,” Sev warned him.
“That so?” Grimm asked, amused.
“Yeah,” Sev sighed. “I lashed out at Lami when she tried to give me a well-meaning lecture. Ajola gave me hell, which I deserved but…” He shook his head. “Then Thonis came by, all pity and ‘concern for my mental health,’ so I told him to fuck off too.”
“Oof,” Grimm laughed. “Yeah. I’ve been there before. First divorce Ani and I went through started with a gunshot wound.”
“I recall, yeah,” Sev nodded.
It was a cute story but he had heard it a million times. Grimm sensed the disinterest and dropped the subject. God, it’s nice to talk to somebody who can take a hint and read a room.
“Nothing puts you in a bad mood quite like catching a bullet,” he said, nodding at the wound.
“True enough,” Sev agreed.
“Given your track record…” Grimm raised his fists. “I’d take it you’d prefer to not to talk about last night?”
“Anything else,” Sev said.
— 3:37 PM —
When Grimm said his goodbyes, Sev didn’t remember exactly what they talked about. It started with the ballgame on TV. Then something to do with exercise. Onto food that was good for you, and then food that was bad for you. But even then, the conversation was mostly joking, and about none of those things at all. It was exactly what Sev needed.
It put him in a good mood. Which is why he decided to accept the next set of visitors, sight unseen. He hoped it was Elamni and Ethano. He wanted to apologize—especially if she was coming to give him the opportunity. He was surprised to find the junior-most venture of Monstrum and Malefaction.
“Looking good, Harker,” the venture lead said.
Sev couldn’t remember his name. Something ‘Grant.’ Sev went with one of many standard greetings for this sort of esprit de corps:
“I’ll be goddamned. You boys don’t have anything better to do?”
“Shit. We should be cracking skulls in North Arroyo,” the youngest said.
Oh fuck. Sev’s smile died.
“Los Angeles Times is a fickle fucking rag,” Grant said. “Shameless. One minute you’re the ‘Hero of Arroyo,’ and then you’re their next poster-boy for excessive force.”
Sev hadn’t seen the papers yet. He knew no good could come from it, because he couldn’t meaningfully engage with the press. No matter what he did, it looked bad for the chapter. Better to not know about it, and remove all temptation.
“Don’t tell me about the papers,” Sev said sternly.
“Why the fuck not? I’d frame that headline. Hang it above my desk,” the young guy said.
The other two laughed and emanated emphatic agreement.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Five people are dead. Sev held his smile but shook his head. I can’t do this right now. I can’t deal with this right now. This is a goddamned horror show. They’ll probably ask me my count next.
“You know, drugs are hitting me kind of hard,” Sev said. “They’ve got me on the good shit. Thanks for the wishes, guys.”
There was a micropause. They saw through his fib and thought less of him for it. Usually you’re better at this, Sev. Grant folded his lip—possibly to cover a smirk—and nodded.
“No problem, brother. Rest up.” Grant said.
And then—thank you, merciful gods—they were gone. Sev exhaled.
Jesus. They’re all so ready to kill people.
— Lunday, Aquarius 3rd. 11:22 AM| Arroyo (AKF Central Precinct) —
Sev was discharged in a wheelchair the following morning. They also issued him a pair of crutches, instructing him to work the leg as much as he could bear while moving around the house. The leg trauma brought all kinds of bad memories to the fore. He wanted nothing more than to curl up at home with a book and a cup of something warm, but the debrief was scheduled immediately after his release. He had to hire cabs to make it into work, which was probably for the best, as it allowed him to avoid most of the press’ attention.
People applauded when Sev rolled in, and they did the same for Miller, who appeared with his right arm in a sling. Once they had assembled, Sevardin’s venture stepped into the large conference room at the top of the precinct. They addressed their tribunal: M&M Deputy Chief, Glathoin Hart, Chief of Special Operations, Deacon Wolfe, and Arch Chief of the Arroyo Keeping Force, Cintessa Drake.
I wish I could stand for this. Sev didn’t feel vulnerable in the chair, but he did feel diminished. Harder to take seriously.
Wolfe turned on a recording device to archive their debrief. The preliminary sequence of questions summarizing the lead up to the bust proceeded as Sev expected.
“Why didn’t you wait for back up?” Wolfe asked.
“The Los Altos Rollers aren’t amateurs, Sir,” Smith said. “They could have ferreted away the contraband in the time it would take for the full strike team to arrive.”
“Yet you were unable to get a solid ESS reading on a magical disturbance prior to entering.”
“That’s precisely why we felt it was necessary to intervene, Sir. After the bust, we found out that LeVoy’s Smoke Shop was heavily warded with illegal magic. Anti-scrying magic. Analytical disruption—”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right, Smith,” Drake said. “Harker. Why did you go in?”
Why indeed?
“I made a bad judgment call, Chief. I shared Smith’s concerns that the Rollers would manage to extricate the licenses before backup could arrive. I felt it was important to apprehend both the buyers and the sellers who cracked the licenses. Waiting would mean giving them the opportunity to escape.”
Drake slowly closed her eyes and leaned her forehead on her hands. Sev continued to walk the tribunal through their entry tactics, up to the moment where Miller abandoned protocol.
“My blood got the best of me,” Miller said. “When we breached, it looked like the Roller kid was considering using a license. I felt it was more pressing to neutralize the threat in front of us rather than—”
“The threat that bit you in the ass?” Drake asked.
Sev, Smith, and Miller all bowed their heads. Sev went on to explain his efforts to de-escalate the situation by speaking with Jahnz. Hart literally waved him away. Don’t waste our time. Sev felt his gut begin to boil.
“Who shot first?” Hart asked, not bothering to look up from his clipboard.
“I do not know, Sir.” Sevardin said, decisively.
Hart froze. Wolfe’s jaw dropped. Drake closed her eyes slowly. Sev felt his partners’ wyrds withdraw, breath bated, like balls shrinking against a shock of cold. Then the room’s collective emanations pressed in on him, incredulous and angry.
“Excuse me?” Hart asked.
“The first shots were fired behind my back, Sir. Almost simultaneously. After that I was deafened.”
There was no walking it back now. It was on the official debrief transcript. And the Silver Curtain comes crashing down.
Sev knew he was committing career suicide. I don’t care. There’s a possibility that Smith or Miller were the first to shoot. Their negligence put us in that position to begin with. They don’t deserve to skate on this. Five people are dead and four of them were only boys.
“Kid with the shotgun fired first, Chief,” Miller said. “Got me in the gut.”
“I returned fire,” Smith said, voice hard.
Fortunately, there wasn’t much more to the debrief than that. Sev’s venture recounted the exchange of violence as best as they could remember it. He didn’t mention that Jahnz attempted a death curse on him—it didn’t seem pertinent. The tribunal excused the venture from the meeting room to deliberate.
It was a tense wait. Miller and Smith refused to meet Harker’s eyes, both seething with fury. Suits me fine. Even if the Rollers’ shot first, Miller gave them the opening, and Smith issued the insipid ultimatum that forced a violent conclusion. I’d rather my career end here than continue with these maniacs on my wing. After a minute, Hart called Sevardin back into the meeting room. He rolled his wheelchair inside the room, sitting at eye level with the tribunal.
“Do you have any interest in serving this Chapter any longer?” Drake asked after a moment.
“Yes, Sir,” Sev said.
“You have a strange way of showing it, Harker. People talk. After word gets out, I can’t imagine anybody will want you on their venture again.”
“I can’t comment on what I didn’t see, Chief.”
“You aren’t half-fae, Harker.” Drake said. “Turn in your licenses and service weapons. You are under suspension until further notice. Speak to the press and I’ll see you dishonorably expelled from the Amagium.”
Sev expected as much. He unclasped his silver vambraces and set them on the table, followed by his saber and revolver. He fished his amagiate badge out of his uniform and handed that in as well.
“You need to get your head right,” Wolfe said seriously. “Find a hobby. Make some new friends. See a shrink. I know you’ve suffered, Sevardin. It’s never easy losing people. But you can’t hold that against your new partners.”
“They backed us into a corner where butchery was the only option,” Sev said. “You could ask me the same questions ten thousand times, in ten thousand ways, and my answer would be the same.”
Drake steepled her hands and fixed her cold gaze on Sev.
“North Arroyo is an uproar and the public wants accountability. Unfortunately, you have a high enough profile that the press has already deduced it was your venture in the shootout. When you come back—if you come back—you will be starting over as a senior officer. Assuming I can find anyone willing to work with you.”
The triple demotion hit Sevardin like a lash across the back, but he bore it with a single slow blink. You knew this was a possibility. You made your bed. Time to lie in it.
“Yes, Sir.”
— Merday, Aquarius 5th, 6:48 PM | Arroyo (The Drowned Book) —
Sev went home and slept the rest of the day away. The pain meds left him groggy, and the debrief had stripped him of all his strength. He woke long enough to heat up and eat a frozen dinner—mostly so he could stomach the next dose of pain meds—then went back to sleep.
Marday was much the same. He watched symvision aimlessly. Read a book without retaining a single word. Life was hollow. A lone paparazzo hung outside with a telephoto lens at the ready, hoping for a glimpse at the disgraced hero.
On Merday afternoon, the isolation got the better of him, and he called a cab to take him to The Drowned Book. I doubt I’ll get a warm welcome. But I’m still an amagia, still a Keeper, and I refuse to be exiled from my favorite bar to save face.
One of the waitresses at the top of the iceberg-like restaurant had to help Sev down to the bar’s spacious lower level. She was friendly at least. But below, the bar went quiet as the various keepers looked up to recognize his arrival. Music didn’t quite come to a halt, but it definitely got chillier in here.
He wheeled himself over to a booth, ordered bourbon neat, and pulled out the book he had brought with him. I don’t really feel like company. But I can’t take another second of hiding like a pariah. Fortunately, the other amagia seemed content to let the cripple keep to himself. For a time, anyway.
Three drinks and an hour and a half later, Sev looked up to find Smith standing over his table. His face was impassive but tense, and his eyes blazed with hate.
“You got a minute, Harker?” He asked.
“Sure, Smith. Have a seat,” Sev said amiably.
“I’ll stand, thanks,” Smith said disdainfully.
“Suit yourself. What’s on your mind?”
Smith paused for a long moment, then asked, finally:
“Whose side are you on?”
“Which sides would those be?” Sev asked.
“The Rollers and the chapter,” he said, already irate.
Sev paused for a long moment, trying to put his stance into words.
“We are supposed to protect them, Smith. All of them. Dealers. Whores. Pimps. Murderers. We protect them from bad magic. And when we have to shoot them dead, like they are monsters already, we have failed them. It isn’t us versus them.”
Smith looked genuinely stunned. He scoffed and shook his head.
“Unbelievable. You never should have been transferred to M&M, Harker. I bet those lofty ideals make you feel real good, but they are a luxury we can’t afford. The second it becomes life and death? You have to be prepared to pull that trigger. To work M&M you have to realize that, yes—it is us versus them. Monsters and monster hunters. You need that killer instinct.”
“Yeah,” Sev said, studying Smith’s face. “You definitely have it, don’t you cowboy? I imagine you were the first one to start shooting.”
Smith said nothing, and his poker face was immaculate. But it didn’t matter. Sev knew. In his guts, in his teeth, in the core of his wyrd, he knew that Smith had been the one to start the shootout. A chuckle escaped Sev’s throat and turned into a laugh.
Smith shook his head and said:
“After our suspension is up, I’ll be going back to work. But it won’t be in your venture. Never again. If it comes to a transfer, I don’t care where they send me. I refuse to work with a backstabbing chickenshit like you.”
“That’s a tremendous relief, Smith,” Sev said, smiling. “I have no desire to associate with murderers who hide behind their licenses.”
Other people were watching now. No, staring. The bar had gone quiet around their table. Smith sensed it too. And for a moment it seemed like he was going to attack Sev in the middle of the bar. Try it. Come on. You want to see a killer instinct, motherfucker? My leg’s fucked, but I will still feed you your own teeth.
In the end, Smith simply smiled and shook his head.
“It’s funny,” Smith said. “I get the sense that we both came here trying to help each other. But while I offered you some common-sense advice, you answered with a sermon.”
“Some people need the preaching,” Sev said evenly.
Smith scoffed and shook his head as he turned to leave.
“Then become a minister. We’d all be better off. For the chapter’s sake, I hope I never see you wearing silver again.”
“Have a nice life, Killer,” Sev said, raising his glass in a lazy toast.
May you die by that sword you’re so fond of swinging.
