SG: Innocent Bystander #5 - Your Boss Owns Your Soul 1/2

[Whitney Taylor]

Savannah, 1993


Way out in the garden,

Way out in the fields,

So far from these civilized nations and discordant deals

--My Bones, The Pretty Reckless



Stefan followed the mysterious Max from sunny day to darkened hallway. They walked along a hallway floored with alternating dark and light gray marble squares past several sturdy looking doors. The bare walls and lack of furniture would have made the place look abandoned, if it had not also been spotless.


He was taken to a large study. The floor was still gray checked marble, but with a gigantic Persian rug covering most of it. Nothing was obviously glowing, unnatural or devilish in the room. There was a respectable assortment of dead things in jars lining the walls, and a heavy oak table to one side held what looked to Stefan like antique scientific instruments.


A large black desk stood at the other end of the room. The man behind the desk did not look up, but continued to read, paper brushing his salt and pepper beard as he turned a page. Stefan did not need the light pressure of Max's hand on his arm to restrain him from speaking. He used the opportunity to study the man. Kelley looked to be in late middle age, although if Stefan's research had been any good he was at least a century and a half, and possibly far older. Thick, uncombed curls didn't quite obscure the lines of concentration carved into his forehead. He appeared to be wearing a disheveled blue smoking jacket; Stefan tried to reconcile this appearance with the scholarly pose and formidable reputation.


At last the wizard closed his book with a slam, leaning back in his chair. "So, Mr. Lightbourne, your daughter is beyond the aid of technological science, and you come to me. Are you prepared to offer your soul?"


Stefan had not expected it to come to this so fast. Nonetheless he had an answer. "If you are prepared to offer healing for my daughter, protection for her and the rest of my family, your promise to leave their souls untouched and proof that your word can be trusted, then... yes."


Kelley raised an eyebrow, then smiled a little. "Thought through your opening bid, have you?"


"It *is* my soul. I want a good price for it, with all due respect."


"Ah... you have both wits and guts, to come into a necromancer's lair and address him in such a way. Unfortunately," and here Kelley sighed with what appeared to be real regret, "There would be no point in a negotiation between us. However amusing it might be, it would necessarily end in your disappointment. Even my blood magic could not cure your daughter."


Stefan listened to this with a sinking heart. "There's nothing you can do for her? She--"


"Her condition cannot be cured. Temporarily treated perhaps, but--"


"Temporarily--how temporary? And what would that take?" Eager, he sounded too eager but he was so close and so desperate--


"If you will let me finish," the mage said drily, "She would need to be treated once a month with a potion. Once a month for the rest of her natural life. Once a month, and one of the key ingredients is the blood of a close family member, willingly given."


"Mine." said Stefan, unhesitatingly.


"Of course. Not a problem if all I wanted was your soul. Unfortunately, I am not in the business of trading souls at the moment."


Stefan blinked his confusion. Why ask for it then? he almost asked, but that wasn't the important question. "What *do* you want, then?"


"Only your life, my dear boy, willingly and knowingly given... No, be still. It is quite impossible. Events are in motion which will require me to quit these premises within a year. I could not agree to treat this child for her entire life and remain a man of my word, even if the blood question were resolved."


Stefan closed his eyes, reeling slightly. Max, whom he had forgotten was present, steadied him with hands on his shoulders. He looked back at them, saw... sympathy? understanding? Something warmer than apathy and softer than contempt. "Thank you." he whispered.


"Come," was the response.


"Wait." Stefan turned back around. The mage had produced an orb the size of a grapefruit from somewhere, and was contemplating it. He looked up with an expression of exaggerated politeness.


"My daughter needs a potion, right? Made from my blood?"


"Yes, but it's an obscure recipe. I only know of it because it falls under my special area of expertise."


Now the final, the truly last hope. "We have a year. Can you teach me how to make it?"


*****


Jacksonville, present



Mina's consciousness hauled itself gratefully up out of a sea of crawling mud into the dry warmth of her apartment to find herself curled in her own bed, heart pounding and head filled with horrible confused images. Her feet were nice and warm, though. Too warm. She moved them experimentally. They encountered a soft bulk, which shifted slightly and began to emit a strong vibration.


She sat up instantly. "Maow!"


"Brrrrnnh?" The catgirl curled at the foot of her bed pushed herself up by the arms, stretching slowly.


"What are you doing here?" Mina demanded, pulling her legs up to her chest.


"Hrrrrrr? Yoooouu asked me? You were crrrrying. Then police caaaammme, so I hid. We donnnnn't like police. Yooooooouur girlboss, Leda, taaalked to them and they llleft with the dead wwwwiiitch-burner. I came back and yooooou were still crying. Scared toooo be alone, mmmmm. The girrrrrlboss couldn't keep yooou company, so she brrrrought us both here."


"Oh." Mina breathed deeply, making herself relax as the jumble of distressing images from last night resolved themselves into some sort of sense. She marveled at the kind of decisions the human brain could make under the influence of things like "shock" and "trauma". She had brought an occasionally homicidal and possibly cannibalistic cat monster home because... the cat monster had been warm and alive and had soft fur? She had been willing to snuggle and endure the mindless television Mina had turned on in a desperate attempt to blot out the fresh images of horror? She didn't *seem* homicidal at the time? Still, Mina remained intact and uneaten and had not been made fun of for her She-Devil pajamas, so maybe her panicked and traumatized self had been onto something.


"Maow," she said, "Thank you for staying last night. Really."


The blue eyes blinked at her slowly.


"But," she continued, choosing her words carefully, "I really have to ask... what were you doing at the cafe last night? Have you been following me? Or did you know something was about to go down?"


Now the eyes turned away. "Ffffoollowing. Yoou have dull humannnn senses. Bad for avooooiding trouble. I wannnted to help."


"Okay, but... are you just being nice to me because you think I'm going to give you that mind control machine?"


"Nnnnnnnnnoo...?" The black tip of Maow's tail had begun twitching, and she put both furry hands on it, holding it down. Then she noticed that Mina had noticed, and continued hurriedly, "Nnnnnot only that! I like beinnnng around you! Yoooouu smell nice, and are good at scrrrrratching ears!"


"...I don't know how to respond to that..." No one had ever told Mina that she smelled nice, and although it wasn't a compliment she had particularly desired, it wasn't unwelcome, either.  (Mina's ear scratching skills had certainly never received any complaints from the neighborhood housecats.) So she decided to ignore that and forge ahead. "Look, I really don't know where that thing is or who has it now. And if I did, I'd fill it with cherry bombs. There are people in my family who died because they were mind controlled into going to war!"


"Wwwwwee wouldn't do that! We waaannnnnt to make people nnnnnnicer to each other! *Less* murder!"


"Still... Look, I don't wanna talk about this right now. Last night I saw someone die--in person--for the first time, and it was someone I kinda know, too. I should probably tell my mom and I'm really not looking forward to that. So what I want to do instead is get a shower, pick up my scooter and then maybe go and get lunch outside or something. It's really nice out now and I want to go be in the sun. I guess..." What the hell(tm) "You can come along if you want."


*****


"Click Click Click" went Leda Milani's stiletto heels as she walked on the gray marble of her employers' residence. She wondered if that was part of the point, to discourage any attempt at stealth or spying.


But today, she could make out voices from above: "...didn't know you'd want to talk to him in person. Sorry." The lovely, silvery soprano, although its tones were repentant, chilled Leda's bones. Still, she stopped next to a fancy, gilt framed mirror on the wall, and began the pantomime of minutely examining her appearance for any flaw.


"You knew cybermages are rare," Leda had to strain to understand the deep rumbling voice. "You kill too easily, Elly."


"I don't see what the big deal is. It's convenient." The voice was sulky now. "I hope you got something from the eye, at least."


The deeper voice launched into an incomprehensible technical monologue. Leda, sensing she had delayed as long as was useful or safe, stepped back from the mirror with a satisfied nod for the benefit of any watcher. She clicked on down the hallway--always taking care where she stepped--and stopped in front of a mahogany door with particularly intricate spiral carvings.


"Come in!" an elegant contralto voice responded to her knock. Leda had never quite managed to place the accent, but it definitely sounded classy. She opened the door, and entered her mistress's office. It was a large room, elegantly yet sparsely furnished. The gray checked marble floor continued in here, except for the prominent display of what was clearly a silver-inlaid summoning circle complete with multicolored candles. Leda gave this a wide berth as she approached the large black desk. "Good morning, Familiar."


"And a good morning to you, too, Leda! Let's have that report." The platinum-haired woman sprawled in the armchair gestured at the surface of the desk, which was clear except for a vial of red nail polish, a pair of designer sandals, and her own bare and shapely feet.


Leda placed her briefcase on the desk, opening its intricate lock with a silver key and a sharp needle with which she pierced her thumb. She wondered if she should go over the names and numbers first, or offer her boss the tribute of a pedicure. Before she could decide, however, there were a series of loud thumps as someone heavy descended the staircase at speed. The banging, clanging footsteps grew louder, and then the heavy door flew open again. Through it burst a gleaming gold statue, brought to life. This expensive-looking apparition was one of the at-home forms of the supernatural assassin and shapeshifting horror called Elemental; she who had haunted and hounded Ed Hinkle to his death, and the moment she saw Familiar she began to complain with sincere distress.


"Daemon says that if we can't find a proper sacrifice we may have to try turning one of the catgirls! Don't--we can't--they're so *pretty*!"


"Elly, my love, come here," sighed Familiar, setting her feet on the ground. The creature crossed the room in a few unnaturally long bounds to lay her shining head docilely in the woman's lap. As she ran her fingers through strands of spun gold, the beautiful witch crooned: "We won't use them. I don't think we could anyway--they're cats, after all. Inherently selfish. We always have our petitioners, although it's best not to spend those lives if we can help it. Daemon is just trying to scare you out of killing too many people."


"But I want to become more evil! Most Evil, someday, maybe!"


"Someday," agreed Familiar, "And I'll be right there cheering for you. But it would be helpful if you reigned in the bloodlust a little bit, if only for the next few months."


Leda had remained silent, looking into the contents of her briefcase with a patient, indifferent expression carefully molded onto her face as she took in every word of this exchange.


"I will, if you promise not to use one of the catgirls."


"I promise, my sentimental little assassin."


"Okay then." The metallic figure stood up again, and turned to Leda. She had features on her face now, indicating a desire to be polite. "Sorry about last night. I hope the police didn't give you too much trouble."


"Hardly any. They know who I am by now." Leda responded smoothly.


"Oh? What happened last night?" Familiar inquired, glancing from subordinate to co-conspirator.


Before Leda could formulate an answer, Elemental responded. "I chased down that mage who was also an Industrial Revolutionary. He tried to return to the scene of the crime, if you can believe it. I threw him off a building. I should have been more discreet about it, so Ms. Milani didn't have to deal with the mess. And yes, I should have made sure he wouldn't be useful to us first. So I guess I owe you both an apology." She bowed gracefully to Familiar, then Leda, who had all she could do to hide her astonishment. Familiar was also eying the gleaming form curiously as it exited the room, singing:


{A shadow from another time

Is waiting in the night

Something happened long ago

Something that will not let go}


"It happened as she says. I haven't had time to write it up yet, though." Leda had hoped to think up a way to leave Mina and the catgirl, as well as her own questioning of the deceased, out of the account.


"That's all right. Now, let's have a look at those numbers..."


Later, as Leda was walking away attempting to wipe patches of red nail polish off her hands, Elemental slid up next to her and matched her pace. "Let me," she said. Leda fought her nerves, and won, as the creature snaked a limb out to touch her hands. When the golden fingers pulled away, they had red spots on them, but Leda's hands were clean.


"Thank you." She was pleased with how steady her voice was now, after all these years.


"What about that barista who was with you? The one who followed me last night? She was upset, I'll bet."


"Somewhat," Leda said drily.


"Are you going to fire her?"


Leda, who had been contemplating that very question, responded noncommittally, "She may quit."


"Don't fire her, okay? She's interesting."


Leda almost skipped a step. Not quite, but almost. Elvis help me, she thought, I've been working this job for a decade and managed to avoid any intrigues with Familiar's associates. What *is* it about that girl, anyway? The mobile statue had fallen back, but she did not yet relax.


She did not look back until she had reached her car. Opening the door she turned to see Elemental's metal body on the steps, apparently watching her. She raised a hand and gave it a cheery wave. Only when it waved back did she drop her guard a little.


Safely in her car, she sped down the drive and away. She breathed carefully, releasing the tension bit by bit. A month--another whole month--until she had to repeat this hair raising ordeal. She took a few random turns, until she found an open bar. She pulled into the parking lot, and leaned her head back for a few moments. Then she opened her wallet and brought out a photograph of a dark haired young boy of ten or so. She pressed this to her lips, then her heart. "For you," she sighed. "All worth it for you."


Part 2 next!

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