Death, Taxes, and Sexy Women: Scene 3 (Patreon)

The important thing, Nathan reflected, was not to react. Don’t flinch. Don’t slouch. Don’t give any indication that the gale force wind trying to waterjet his skin raw was any more consideration than a light drizzle. Certainly don’t look like you totally forgot about the giant storm that had been threatening to break for hours before the three of them decided that fully enjoying the indoor tropical paradise while waiting for their mark was an A-Okay splendid idea. That train of thought lasted approximately the time it took for an empty can of soda to smack him in the chest and spin away across the concrete.

Following the can’s path, Nathan’s eyes widened when he saw a scared-looking older man collapsed on his rear, clearly having difficulty getting up.

“Oh, hey, are you okay?!” He rushed over, raising his voice to be heard over the storm. “Here, let’s get you up.”

“It turned!” the old man cried out as Nathan got behind him and wrapped his arms around the man’s chest. “The beast! I saw it!”

Heaving the man onto his feet, Nathan snatched a dropped cane from the concrete and started leading him towards a nearby dry spot with a roof. Well, drier, anyway. “Beast?” he asked.

“A man! He came out from through that door, there, roared to the storm, and changed before my very eyes! Claws, fur, snarling teeth, glowing red eyes, I swear I saw it!”

Ah, sounds like Lucas had gone full wolfman the moment he’d cleared the water park. Yeah, that’d give anyone not expecting it a fright.

“I assume you’re not a member of the Masquerade Tattoo Appreciation Society, are you, sir?” Nathan asked, handing the cane back. The question was more formality than anything else – the standard code to determine if someone was ‘in the know’. He was pretty sure that this guy panicking about seeing a werewolf transform in front of him knew nothing of the secret world of paranormals that lived side by side with the mundane world, but one rather embarrassing episode with an elf during university had pushed him into the habit of never assuming.

“The what?”

“Never mind. Do you need any help getting home? Would you like me to call a cab?”

“I can manage just fine, young man, thank you. Just gave me a scare was all. Never seen anything like it.”

It wouldn’t be a surprise if he had, actually, seen the like before. In a world of security cameras, smartphones, and the internet, the paranormal world didn’t stay hidden just by luck.

Still, the gentleman seemed to be calming down, which was just as well. Out of the corner of his eyes, Nathan spotted a duffle bag laden Rosalind barge out of the front door and look around wildly for him.

“Over here!” he called through the wind and rain. “I’m going to have to go,” he said quickly to his right. “Sorry I can’t stick around longer.”

“No, no, thank you” the man nodded to him before starting to slowly walk away. “Whew. I won’t be forgetting that in a hurry.”

He would, in fact, be forgetting what he’d seen. And quite quickly as well. Though the cost would be adding up. Damn it, Lucas! Would it have killed the him to run into some back alley first?

“Clothes?” Rosalind asked, arriving under the lip of the roof just wide enough to not get a face full, but not so wide as to spare anything from the chest down from getting utterly soaked.

Nathan shook his head. “Literally no point. Just shoes. Radio?”

“I have it. Sounds like Rivers is leading Lucas on a wild goose chase all over the place.”

Nathan started pulling on his shoes, sans socks. “We should—“ He was interrupted by a bright flash of light crisscrossing the sky, followed barely a moment later by an almighty boom that he felt almost as much as he heard.

The rain seemed to get even heavier, if that was possible.

Nathan had raise his voice again. “We should follow his phone and cut Rivers off!”

“Car or bike?!”

“Do you mind a bit of water on the upholstery?!”

“It needs a wash anyway!”

“Car then!”

The two bolted for the car park, heads down, eyes narrowed, trying their best to avoid the ponds and streams forming everywhere they stepped, even if that battle had been a lost cause from the beginning. By the time they arrived at Rosalind’s ride, an old-school American muscle car that was about as practical in the big city as a Kraken in a swimming pool, Nathan’s feet felt like they were that Kraken.

The rain pounded on the windscreen as Nathan slammed the car door behind him and immediately fished in the duffle bag for his phone.

Rosalind was already putting the keys in the ignition. The engine roared into life and they swerved out of the parking area.

“Oh hells, they’re on the ring road heading East!” Nathan said as soon as he’d loaded the GPS app.

“The hard shoulder,” Rosalind concluded.

Nathan snorted. “I bloody well hope so. Must be a lot of water around to let Rivers stay ahead of Lucas when he’s gone full ware.”

“Right or left?” Rosalind asked as they approached a T-junction.

“Left. If Rivers takes the next turn off, we can cut him off at in the old town, or if that doesn’t work, there are a bunch of side alleys before SCUM Proper— Oh, hell no!”

“What?”

Nathan’s mind raced. If Rivers did take the next turn-off, there really only was one place he could be heading for, wasn’t there?

“The Para Enclave,” Nathan said before pulling out the police lights and started to roll down the car window.

“If Rivers gets through SCUM Proper and into Proper SCUM, we’ll never get him out again!” He shouted over the return of the storm blasting his face again. He slapped the magnetic light onto the roof and hit the go button, starting the blare of the sirens.

“Not tonight at least,” he continued in only a slightly raised voice as he finished rolling the window back up. “We’d need help and by then Rivers will have vanished.”

Rosalind clucked her tongue. “Well, you’re the expert there. Exploration isn’t really my thing. And do we really have the budget for the lights?”

Nathan sighed. “We’re already in for a bollocking on this one, I just know it. The least we can do is actually catch him.”

The drive through the city streets felt both far too quick and painstakingly slow. Nathan watched the blip on his phone inexorably moving, willing it not to take the turn, but of course it did. He was also monitoring police radio, just in case their blaring police lights got challenged, but there at least, they got lucky. The normies clearly had their hands full enough as was, what with the wrath of the heavens dumping down on them. He’d have to remember to ask Sophia what was up with that.

By the time they drove past the unassuming-looking shop fronts that marked the outside perimeter of SCUM Proper, the bleeping dot was well on its way. “Take the next left,” Nathan said.

“Next left,” Rosalind confirmed.

“There,” he pointed. “Park there.”

Steeling himself, Nathan reloaded his handgun and pushed the car door open. The storm seemed to have winded down just a tad by now, the wind relaxing and the rain dropping from a hammering waterfall to merely a heavy shower. Speaking of, a hot shower would certainly be on the cards once this was finally over. It was probably a good thing the two of them were still dressed in swimwear.

Ducking under an awning, Nathan checked the GPS again. He smiled grimly to himself. He’d been right. This was exactly where the My Little Pony reject was heading. The stormwater made him quite slippery to pin down. But it wasn’t as though they didn’t have any tricks of their own.

“You’re on,” he said to Rosalind as she approached, nodding to the mouth of the winding alley they’d parked next to.

Rosalind nodded. Bringing up her hands, magic began to pour forth, blue and white motes of light dancing through the heavy rain.

Nathan felt the chill before the first ice crystal began to form. Slowly, the puddles and rivers of water surrounding them began to divert against the pull of gravity, and then began to freeze. A wall of water climbed up behind them, freezing solid as each new wave lapped over the top, like a frozen waterfall in reverse. Soon, the whole of the mouth opening was blocked by a solid wall of ice and as more water continued to flow down the alley, feed by dozens of little urban tributaries, the wall only grew thicker and stronger.

And not too soon either.

A large dark shape galloped towards them through the rain with a slosh slosh slosh of hooves, coming into view from the bend in the street. It was difficult to properly make out where the shape ended and the rain began, but one thing was certain, no one who witnessed this being could ever confuse it for a normal horse.

It slowed as it saw them — saw the barrier behind them.

They were alone. No park visitors. No traffic. No witnesses. There wasn’t even a single window light on in any of the apartments above the nearby shop fronts.

Nathan kept his gun at his side and lifted his I.D holder. The contents of the leather wallet would be clear to see to the water demon, even through the rain.

“Mister Cromarty Rivers!” Nathan shouted, loud enough to be heard. “Underground IRS! You are under arrest for numerous counts of blood smuggling up the Silverthorn Creek.”

The kelpie trotted to a very sloshy stop.

“You are also wanted for questioning by several other departments in relation to your recently changed illusion tattoo and your failure to renew your Masquerade Insurance Policy!”

Behind their quarry, Lucas sprinted into view on all fours, saw the standoff, slowed to a lope, and stood up on his haunches, before coming to a stop some ten meters from their quarry. Standing at eight feet tall and corded with muscle under a currently sopping-wet, shaggy black coat, a transformed werewolf was not a creature most would want to mess with, which was one of the reasons they were so prolific throughout the whole of the paranormal world. Them and Vampires.

Looking between the wall of ice in front and the mass of werewolf muscle behind, Marty Rivers snorted loudly and stomped aggressively on the ground with a hoof sharp enough to disembowel a man. A splash of water arced up and above the kelpie’s head.

Beside him, Nathan could feel Rosalind tensing up, offensive ice magic already curling around her fingers. But the last thing they needed was for this to devolve into a full-on slug-out paranormal fight.

Guess it was time for him to earn his paycheck.

“Marty!” He called out in a firm but de-escalating voice. “Marty, we get that you’re frustrated. Really. You were just looking for your own piece of the pie. We all know how the paranormal world works. Most of the Masquerade uses the secrecy the stone gives us to get up to seriously shady shit in the normal world. Like, half of the Masquerade’s GDP comes from that stuff. I know people don’t like to talk about it, but we all know it’s true. Illegal gambling, counterfeiting, prostitution, smuggling.” He put extra emphasis on the last word.

There was no doubt Mister Rivers was listening now. His head was tilted and narrowed, one eye looking right at him, though he kept his posture angled such to keep both him and Lucas in his field of view. 180-degree vision was kinda busted like that.

“We get that you wanted in on the game,” he repeated, “but we don’t piss where we eat, Marty. There’s a reason the blood trade is licensed and regulated. If you want to do smuggling, I’m sure they’re a ton of opportunities for a young kelpie with talent that doesn’t involve risking vamps going murder-hobo insane ‘cause they drank a bag of bad blood.”

The kelpie changed, replaced once again with the young man, standing there, like them, in swimwear and a thoroughly soaked T-shirt. He didn’t look pleased. “There are no opportunities!” He yelled through the rain. “All the clans have the city sewn up. You have to work through them to do any of the good stuff. And none of the blood that I carried was bad. None of it! Seen any murder-hobo vamps recently? No! ‘Cause there ain’t none.”

“Marty!” Nathan called out again, wanting to redirect the conversation. “That’s as well as maybe, but we are going to have to take you in now, and you are going to be facing consequences. But once you’re out again, we’ll see about getting you introduced to one of the families.”

Marty scowled. “I don’t want to be a dog of the families.”

The werewolf started growling.

“Lucas,” Nathan called out in a warning voice.

The growl tapered off.

Marty looked back to Nathan from Lucas. The anger had faded a little, replaced with nervousness.

“Look,” Nathan said. “I get that it’s not the free-wielding lifestyle that you might have been hoping for, but there are worse things than working for the families. Lots of successful older men started out as less wealthy young men running a clan business. You learn the ropes. Learn how to do it smart. Then when you’re ready, strike out on your own.”

“I can strike out on my own now!”

“By smuggling in the paranormal world itself? Breaking our laws? You’re lucky it’s us that picked you up. If the blood bank had found you first, you’d be a corpse in a sand pit.”

Marty flinched.

Nathan could see it. The exact moment the water demon gave up. Knew he’d been caught.

“How long?” he asked, as Nathan softly approached.

Nathan understood what he was asking. “For blood smuggling? Not that long for a Kelpie. Depends how cooperative you are in recovering your stash.”

At that, the water demon’s look turned to desperation. “You’re going to take away the money I made?”

“'Fraid so. Back taxes and fines. Though being cooperative might reduce it somewhat. You might not get out the other end with nothing.”

Marty nodded slowly.

“Especially if you help us track down your suppliers.”

At that, Marty’s eyes went wide. He subsequently clammed up and refused to say any more. Which wasn’t entirely surprising.

Approximately twenty minutes later, one set of handcuffs from the car, one massive ice wall removed, one long phone call to HQ, and Mister Marty Rivers was safely ensconced in the back seat. The door closed with a thwomp.

“And good job on that talk down,” Lucas said, giving him a fist bump. “You gonna ride with us back to HQ?”

Nathan shook his head. He was holding his DSLR camera in one hand having taken some shots for the after-action reports and because he quite liked the way light had started to filter through the clouds, hitting the old town buildings in a small collection of ethereal god beams. The weather was slowly improving. The wind had slowed and what remained of the rain was starting to resemble more of a light shower. “If you can handle the paperwork, I’d like to pick up my bike from the water park.”

“Sure thing, bro. I thought for sure we were going down for a trip to rumble town back there. Least I can do.”

“Cool. Throw me a towel and my clothes? I’ll change and walk back or catch a rideshare.”

“On it.”

As Lucas made his way around the car, Rosalind stepped out on the same side. Nathan saw the moment a second before it happened. Quick as a whip, he brought his camera up to eye level, framed the picture, and took the shot.

He stared down at the result. Lucas and Rosalind, one wearing swim shorts, the other in her bikini, guns in their waistbands, standing in the middle of a cobbled street, next to an old American muscle car, surrounded by the gothic architecture of Valeria Old Town, staring down and up into each other’s faces from just a few inches away, wide-eyed and startled, illuminated where they stood by three separate god beams from the storm clouds above, along with a chance sweep of sparkling rain drops.

“Holy shit,” Nathan muttered. Looking up, he saw that the moment had passed. Neither Lucas nor Rosalind had apparently acknowledged it, though he thought he saw a light dusting of red on Rosalind’s cheeks.

He took the scenic route back to where he’d parked his wheels, taking the occasional photo as he went. He’d mapped out this part of the city well, but with one as old and riddled with paranormal secrets as Valeria, you could never be certain you wouldn’t stumble onto something you’d never found before.

Nathan was about halfway back to the water park when he remembered the letter that he’d folded and shoved into the back pocket of his swim shorts — not long before diving headfirst into the pool — and then going on a chase through a storm.

The letter was soaked, of course — the paper as delicate as tissue while the ink looked like someone had gone into photoshop and applied a Gaussian blur.

It was still legible though… just.

This invitation was sent as the result of an administrative error. We must apologize for this and ask—

Nathan tore his gaze away and stuffed the letter back in his pocket, somehow managing to avoid also tearing the letter itself. He was done with chasing a dream that could never happen. This wasn’t like Marty, who just needed to take the stick out of his arse and submit himself to one of the powerful Valeria families that ran the highly dubious private sector. There was only one clan he could submit himself to if he wanted to chase his Kitsune heritage and they wanted no part of him.

Besides, he thought to himself as he finally reached the water park and climbed onto his cherry-red Japanese sports bike. It wasn’t as if he was doing badly for himself without his heritage. He had a good job, a career, close friends, and charisma enough to pull hot tail pretty much as he wanted. Hell, he even had a sort-of quasi-Kitsune harem going on. Not a real one, but all his friends with benefits knew about the others and seemed cool with it. That at least quieted the roar of his blood somewhat. He was fine.

That calming sentiment lasted as long as it took him to ride home through the post-storm traffic and find what awaited him inside.

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