Feeling the Way, CH 22 (Patreon)

The building was a four-story concrete affair in a mixed industrial and office park. To the east, the Westminster financial district was visible, with its towers. To the west, the mountains rose in the distance over housing going up in value and size, as they moved away from Denver proper. We crossed a few commercial strips to get here and one nearly abandoned neighborhood.

Enough variety to keep even the most finicky office worker pleased, or decide to work from home.

There was no name on the building, but an online search tolls me it was the Okana Medical Research center, and that they were focusing on immune degenerative diseases research. There was a time when that meant they looked to cure it. Now, if the right, or wrong, person was in charge, they could be looking for ways to create those diseases. The exposure of magic did not bring an age of peace and contentment like so many dreamers thought. Aquarius missed the memo.

Marrows leaned against his car, mug of tea in hand, studying it.

“When did you start drinking tea?”

“Meng introduced me to this.” His reply was accompanied by a shrug. Like him switching to tea was no big deal.

“That’s going to put at least one coffee manufacturer out of business.”

The badger rolled his eyes. “I didn’t drink that much of the stuff. I used to know guys who drank so much coffee they could vibrate through a wall.”

“I met a guy in Louisiana who can do that.” I chuckled at the memory of the wolf as he’d landed on the pavement after I punched him as he solidified out of the bank. I’d tracked him across half a dozen states. Twice that in robberies. He’d stolen an antique from a family friend and since she didn’t want him dead. She’d asked me to get it back for her.

Not a bad guy overall. Not the greatest at making snap decisions, but once he realized he couldn’t beat me, we got along great.

The badger shook his head. “So many expressions don’t mean the same now that magic’s known. Now, when someone claims their girlfriend’s light on her feet, you have to ask if they mean she can float or she’s just quiet.” He paused. “And even that could be magic.”

“How are we doing this?” I asked, nodding to the building. Cars were parked on the side, people came and went.

“I thought you’d just go, kick in the door and punch people until they tell you what you want to know.”

I took out my phone and looked through my contacts. I didn’t have to; I know my family’s numbers. I was making a point.

“What are you doing,” Marrows asked with a smirk.

“Looking for someone better suited to that plan. What kind of body count are you looking to accumulate? If it’s zero, you’re shit out of luck. Even Whitney’s going to drop at least one body in a place that size. If you want the place to still be standing, that puts Wolf out of the running. Aaron might leave you people to talk to afterward, but he stopped traveling alone after the yakuza nearly killed him five years ago. You know the kind of guys he travels with, so it might be best not to call him in on this.”

The badger rolled his eyes. “I get it. You’re not the Orr to send in to kick ass and take names.”

“You must miss those days.”

“I can still kick your ass, Wyatt; don’t think otherwise.” He took the stunner out of its holster and checked it over. “It’s carrying a real weight that I miss.” Satisfied, he holstered it and walked toward the building’s entrance.

“I don’t get that part. I’ve seen Missionaries fight, even kill. Why aren’t you able to do it?”

“I can kill, just not premeditated. We’re about ensuring He has followers and protecting His flock.”

“We’re more of a harem.”

“Don’t mess with my story,” the badger warned. “In the process of defending, anything goes, so long as killing isn’t the actual plan. I’m a little too proactive for that rule. Nearly caused someone I was watching over to die when I locked up because I figured taking out an attacker before they became an actual threat to them would be simpler. I stopped carrying physical ammo after that. Magic is a bitch when it wants to be.”

I opened the door for him, and we entered a spartan lobby. White floors and walls. A screen the only black rectangle as it was turned off. One elevator behind a security desk.

“Can I help you, gentlemen,” the doberman in a rent-a-cop uniform greeted us.

Marrows snickered. “Nothing gentle about either of us.” The guard tensed as the badger leaned against the counter. “We’re here to see whoever’s responsible for the kidnapping of homeless people that’s been happening around your building.”

I kept my muzzle shut, but I admired his boldness as the guard stared at the badger in confusion.

After a few seconds, Marrows burst out in laughter. “Just kidding.” He took out a card from a brass holder and handed it to the doberman. “Tom Marrows, me and my associate are here on behalf of Steel Link Security, to explain to the people who own this building why they should drop whoever they have doing security and go with us. Don’t worry, we’re not after your job, we aim higher.”

“I think there are smoother ways to do this,” I couldn’t stop myself from saying.

The badger shrugged. “I didn’t hear you talk. Anyway, they don’t send us to be nice, remember. We’re the ones they send in when someone’s not getting the hint.” He smiled at the doberman. “Maybe you should call someone able to handle us, since it’s clearly not you.”

Swallowing, the guard placed a call, and a minute later a panda in a sharp suit stepped out of the elevator. She looked us over. “Can I help you?”

“You have this the wrong way around,” Marrows said, smiling. “We’re here to help you, you are?”

“Samantha Wrong. Head of security.”

“Ouch.”

She glared at me.

“Sorry.” I got myself under control. “That can’t have been an easy last name to grow up with.”

She was not amused. “I’ve shown enough guys like you they were wrong to say anything about my name over the years. State your business before I show you the door.”

“Security is our business.” Marrows handed her a card.

“I know about you,” she replied after looking it over and handing it back. “We don’t deal with magic.”

“But magic might decide to deal with you,” he replied. “How are you going to handle the thief who can walk through walls? The kidnapper who can teleport—”

“That’s not a thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Teleportation, it isn’t a thing.” Her statement had the definitiveness of someone who looked into it hard. Which was odd for someone who claimed not to deal with magic. It’s also wrong—I do not snicker. The Hertz kid, like Fred calls him, does it.

“Magic can do anything,” Tom said.

“No, it can’t,” she stated. “Magic bends the laws of physics. It doesn’t break them.”

“Teleportation isn’t impossible under known physics.”

She rolled her eyes. “The amount of energy needed would kill whoever tried it. If you’re trying to convince me I need to sign a contract with your company, all you’re doing is convincing me I made the right call not dealing with your kind.”

I bristled.

It isn’t often someone can get my goat, but prejudice is one way to rile me up. I can come up with reasons; like I want everyone treated equally, how in this century we should be done with such a narrow mindset. But the truth is more personal. I’ve been prejudiced against by my own family. They realized it was wrong, and they did their best to change, but I’m still an emotional mess because of it.

“My kind?” I growled.

“Easy now,” Marrows said, hand on my chest making me realize I took a step. “We’re not here to start anything.”

I’d happily finish it for her. Her smirk of satisfaction did not make standing down easy.

“There, all better,” he said. “Clearly you have your set of beliefs, but does belief keep you safe? Does it keep your projects safe? I can respect that you don’t want to deal with the magical community, but you also clearly keep your ear to the ground so you know what’s going on in the city. Denver is becoming one of the country’s larger concentrations of magic. We have half a dozen factions established here. More are looking to have a foothold. Steel Link, because our beliefs let us employ someone from each of those factions. So we have experts who can deal with a wide variety of magical threats and offer protection against such. Do you really want to rely on your beliefs to keep this place safe?”

It was all I could do to stop myself from asking just how much of that was bullshit. It sort of makes sense. The Brislow elder’s role as Champion is known in our community. Even before the Diamond incident, there had been an influx of other factions to Denver, but fully establishing themselves here? That’s unusual, to say the least. Cities only have one magical faction in them. Usually, only one subgroup of that faction is in a city. Like one family for the Society.

The Brislow elder was always a little different in that he was reaching out to the other faction even before the Church War, but he can’t have allowed them to establish a chapter house in his city, can he?

The silence stretched until it snapped with her asking. “What are you looking for here?”

“Only the same thing any sales rep wants,” Marrows replied. “Give us a tour; let us explain how we can increase your security. Once we’ve given our spiel, you can make your decisions and contact our head office so we can assign personnel.”

“You are awfully sure of yourself.”

“I’m a killer sales rep.” How Marrows could say that without bursting out in laughter, I had no idea. Still, it worked, because with a sigh she looked to the doberman.

“Malcolm, hand me two visitor’s badges.” They came with a lanyard and I slip it over my neck. Marrows studied his before doing the same, and we followed her into the elevator.

“Not showing us the basement?” I asked as she pressed the button for the second floor.

“There’s nothing there but the utilities.”

I shared a look with the badger. Now there was an invitation to snoop if I ever heard one. We walked around the floor, where she explained about the labs there, the security measures, all mundane, the personnel, and the checks they put them through to ensure they both prevented accidents and didn’t compromise the intellectual property rights of the company.

The third floor was more labs, but with more stringent containment security since here, they dealt with highly infectious diseases. Again, she rattled off their security procedures, and, somehow, Marrows looked interested. It was all I could do not to drop from boredom.

Maybe there was something to the barge in kicking thing Marrows initially proposed. Entertainment, if nothing else.

On the way to the fourth floor, where the offices were located, I rubbed my temple at the passing pain. I didn’t know boredom could cause headaches. At least it was fleeting, and then we were walking among a hallway of doors. Each, she told us, occupied by one administrative assistant or another. She indicated the company chairman’s office; the only one we could see in, and unoccupied as he was working in one of the labs. She never pointed him out during the tour. Was it because he wasn’t in labs she showed us, but a secret one? She finished at her office, and as she opened the door, Marrows caught my attention and nodded to the elevator.

“I’m going to be a minute,” I said as she motions us in. “I’m going to use the restroom.”

She debated something, then nodded. “On the left of the elevators.”

“I saw them.” I headed for them, the first turn taking me out of sight. This floor had few cameras since everything here was handled digitally. I took the elevator to the basement. Wincing as the elevator started moving. Great, the headache wasn’t actually gone.

The basement was disappointing in that it was exactly what Wrong said it was. A furnace, an electrical panel to cause envy in every other one. More plumbing pipes than I ever wanted to see again. Storage of equipment.

No secret lab.

Maybe we came at the wrong time. Maybe they only worked on the vagrant at night or something, instead of having a hidden lab dedicated to it. On the way back to the fourth floor, the headaches spiked again. What was it with it and elevator rides?

I opened my eyes before the door opened and stared at the panel. I don’t know why, but—

“Are you getting off?” a woman in a lab coat asked.

“Sorry, no, wrong floor.”

She shrugged and entered, pressing the button for the second floor and closing her eyes as the doors closed. I winced in pain as the headache punched its way through. She exited on the second floor and once the doors closed; I look at the panel again. There was something going on here. The headache always struck between floor three and four.

I went up, closing my eyes and it barely registered before the doors open.

I went back down and kept my eyes fixed on the panel. Immediately the knife planted in my head, the pain intense enough I closed my eyes, but there was something there; I almost made it out.

When the doors closed onto the basement, I pulled out a pen and wrote a quick phrase against pain. There was probably an official one somewhere, but I never learned it. Pain isn’t something I normally have a problem dealing with.

Even with the phrase, the pain was there, but not so intense now, and I saw the button appear. It was there only for a fraction of a second and gone before I reached for it. I closed the door on the executive who tried to enter and went down again. This time, I had my finger on the button before it vanished and the elevator lurched to a stop.