Sneak Peek - The Shadows Are No Place For Love

The beep from the intercom on her desk drew Samantha’s gaze away from her computer. 

“Yes, Katrina?” Samantha allowed a note of irritation to filter into the short question as she answered the intercom.

“Your cousins are here to see you, Ms. Snow,” came the voice of the overly perky intern. 

“Send them in please.” She tapped a button on her keyboard to lock her screen.

Samantha didn’t have any cousins.

Straightening her steely blue blazer, she swiveled in her chair, turning to meet whoever was about to walk into her office.

The door opened seconds later to admit three burly men. Samantha smiled politely at the secretary and motioned for the men to sit as the door closed behind them. One accepted her offer. The other two remained standing.

“Gentlemen. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” she asked, folding her hands on her desk.

The man who had seated himself reached into the coat pocket of his well-worn suit and drew out an envelope.  He tossed it on the mahogany desk in front of her. The thick envelope came to rest inches from her fingertips. She didn’t look at it.

“There are some rather interesting pictures in there,” said the man, leaning back and resting his ankle on his knee.

Samantha pushed the envelope back across her desk with a single finger and leaned back in her chair, taking on a relaxed pose. “Whoever you have in those photographs, it isn’t me.” This wasn’t the first time someone had tried to bribe or blackmail her. She doubted it would be the last.

The man gave her a pitying smile. “Oh Ms. Snow, these are not pictures of you.” There was a pause as the man’s smile twisted into an unpleasant grin. “These pictures are of your brother.” And just like that, the men who had been an annoyance became a threat.

Samantha’s features fell into a practiced blank canvas as she picked up the envelope. A look of confidence settled on the man’s face as she opened it.

She squashed the urge to wince as she pulled out two black and white pictures of her brother James.

The photographs were crisp and taken on a camera that was good enough for her to make out the small but distinct tattoo on her brother’s chest. She catalogued his injuries clinically – the vicious gashes, the dark pool beneath the chair he was bound to. His face was almost unrecognizable.

A slip of paper fell to her desk from between the photographs:

Do what they say and your brother lives.

I’ll be watching.

“Well gentlemen,” she said, her tone clipped as she set the photographs and note down. “Why don’t we cut to the chase? Where is my brother?” She was about to make a gamble. As she spoke, she picked up a pen and began writing small lines of runes on a legal pad on her desk.

She had avoided using her magic for months – closed the door so tightly on it she wasn’t sure she’d be able to reopen it now. But being squeamish would only get her brother killed.

Samantha felt the familiar pull, an ancient being stirring from its slumber. She touched the stone necklace at her neck—hesitated, just a fraction—and the magic finally came, sharp and unwilling, with a pulse that felt amused at her reluctance.

The spell would make them see her as a threat. Two of them were already shifting, hands drifting toward the bulges under their jackets.

“She’s bluffing,” the man sitting down said.

Something flashed in the reflection on her monitor—a shadow in a black cloak.

“You’re bluffing,” he repeated, louder now, as if saying it twice might make it true.

“At ease, boys. I’m not going to murder you in my office.” The man in the chair changed his posture so his coat fell open to reveal a gun. He didn’t quite reach for it, but she could tell he was considering it.

She forced her smile to spread across her face and pressed her palm to the wet ink. The spell activated.

“Gentlemen. My patience grows thin.” She snapped her fingers as one of them opened his mouth to speak. “Tell me what it is you want in exchange for my brother or get out.”

She leaned forward, eyes narrowing as she felt her spell take hold. “But when you leave here, you’d better never stop looking over your shoulder. I’ll make sure to give you plenty of reasons for it.” She watched them, judging and weighing her words, and she forced herself to wait.

“I didn’t sign up for dying,” muttered one of the men, shifting from one foot to the other. His words jarred the other out of his thoughts as he squinted at her. He nodded once as if making up his mind.

“Your services are required.” His words were gruff, and he reached into another pocket and slid a piece of paper onto her desk. “Be at this address tomorrow at 7:15 a.m. Alone. Your brother’s life in exchange for your cooperation.” He stood and Samantha eyed the paper.

“Is this where my brother will be?” she asked, picking up the paper against her better judgment. The man got up and shrugged, now eager to leave.

“We were told to deliver the message. Be there or your brother dies.” She looked up at him sharply. “Have a pleasant night Ms. Snow,” he turned and left without another word, the other two following hastily.

Once the door slammed behind them, Samantha’s shoulders sagged. With trembling fingers she reached for the intercom and pressed the button for Katrina.

“Yes Ms. Snow?” came the jarringly happy response.

“Cancel the rest of my appointments for the day,” Samantha said, trying to keep her tone even. Not waiting for a response, she released the intercom and let her head sink into her hands, her elbows on either side of the pictures.

“Oh James,” she whispered. “How am I supposed to help you get out of this one?” Her words fell into the silence of her office. The room felt wrong. Cold. Quiet.

Her computer screen flickered different colors before going to an old-fashioned green and black command line interface. Words began pouring across the screen.

Samantha tapped the keys, got no response, and resigned herself to watching the screen in dismay.

We have a mutual interest in the people who took your brother. Go to die Axt Mühle in the 23rd precinct. Go now.

She reached for her notebook, writing fast before the text disappeared.

Find a mage with a bioweave implant—right arm. Alexander Reicher - Iados on the streets.

She wrote down both names, then scribbled them out just as quickly.

You’ll get your next contact from DarkSphinx. Don’t look him up—unless you want to end your career early.

The screen flickered again and returned to the lock screen. Quickly, she logged back into her machine. None of her intrusion countermeasures had tripped. Whoever was responsible knew exactly what they were doing.

She surveyed her icons, spotting a new folder named “Project Obelisk” in the middle of her desktop. Inside were personnel reports. Quickly, she read through the first few pages – something to do with creating self-sufficient magically-attuned agents for highly questionable government wet work.

Samantha selected all of the files in the folder and sent them to the printer. The machine snapped to life with a grinding noise like it didn’t want to work today. Papers started moving.

Then her computer monitor turned blue, and an error code appeared. Muttering angrily to herself, Samantha restarted the computer. When everything came back online, the folder named Project Obelisk was gone.

***

Samantha used her card to transfer the designated fare to the driver before stepping out of the car and into light rain. As the cab pulled away, she realized she should probably have fished out cash to avoid a virtual paper trail. Too late now. She wasn’t used to having to think ahead to obfuscate her trail and the afternoon’s events had put her on a path she was not used to walking.

Lamenting her choice of four-inch heels, she stepped gingerly onto the slick curb. The flashing neon light above her sported a partially illuminated axe with a pattern of light-up sparks.

The rain was coming down harder and she didn’t have an umbrella. Using her purse as a makeshift cover, she opened the door of die Axt Mühle.

The lighting inside was dim, as expected, and she took a moment to assess the place as she shook the rain from her coat. She didn’t immediately see anyone fitting the description of the mage – a man who had a bioweave implant on his right arm. Her printer had managed to spit out a few pages, before she’d had to restart the computer.

She couldn’t very well start asking everyone if they knew or were Iados. Still partly concealed by the shadows of the entryway she resorted again to using her magic. This time she grabbed the necklace directly, and the pull of the magic came more easily to her summons. She didn’t need her runes as an anchor this time – all she was doing was a quick scan for magical essence. A shadowy layer superimposed itself on top of reality—and she frowned.

A hunched figure in a black feathered cloak perched on a bar stool. As soon as she focused on it the image shifted, like a bad video file.

“Fraking scum!” The bartender yelled at the soccer match on the screen. “Can’t believe they didn’t defend that.” Her eyes flicked to the stout man. When she looked back, the cloaked figure was gone. Great.

Then she saw it. Several tables away from the bar, a man was giving off a faint sparkle. She briefly wondered if his diminished aura was a result of the horrific experiments he’d endured. 

She dropped the magical sight, quickly making her way across the bar. As she approached, the man at the table looked up, turning in his seat. Belatedly, she registered there was no sign of a bioweave implant. There went that lead.

“Block you idiots!” The curtain to the back room, clearly labeled – Employees Only – burst open to reveal a tall, well-built man in all-black holding two bottles of vodka.

“Already giving up the game, old man? Shit you must have been great at holding the line in the tech-wars Max.” The comment made her shift her focus to the bartender. He looked like he’d been through plenty of battles, but she couldn’t tell if that was due to his profession or because of a military background. Worse yet, his short sleeves weren’t hiding any bioweave.

The man in the black jacket unscrewed the top on one of the bottles and drank directly from it. Classy. Pausing his flagrant show, the man lowered the bottle to stare at Samantha more fully. She studied him almost as openly.

His features were not unattractive – it was his demeanor that was off-putting. It was a long shot, but she looked for any obvious signs of the bioweave on the newcomer. His long sleeve jacket obscured his arms.

“Hey Max…,” the man drawled looking her up and down. “Did you order a call-girl for Sully? I didn’t know he had a thing for the corporate type…” He took another long swig from the bottle and leered at her. “Think she’d charge double if I told her I wanted to show her my awakened beast?” He wiggled his eyebrows in her direction. She scowled before glancing back at Sully. He looked like he wanted to melt into the floor.

“Sorry, Sully, was it?” she asked leaning forward and giving him a genuine smile. “My mistake. The next drink’s on me.” She fumbled briefly in her bag until she found one of her cards and swiped the drink order tablet on the table, again forgetting to use cash.

She turned back toward the bar—and nearly collided with an olive-skinned woman in sleek biker leathers slipping past her in the narrow space.

“Careful,” the woman said, garnering a sputtered apology from Samantha.

As they passed, the woman’s fingers brushed Samantha’s wrist, pressing a card into her palm. Samantha didn’t look at it right away. She waited until the woman was gone, then risked a glance.

The card was black, heavier than it should have been. No name. No number. Just a faint, embossed outline of an umbrella, visible only when the light caught it at the right angle. Samantha’s brow furrowed.

“What’ll you have?” The bartender was staring at her and she dropped onto a stool, sliding the card into her pocket.

“Einstök porter if you have it, please,” she said a little dazed, shrugging out of her coat. She hazarded a glance at the other woman, but she was wiggling her fingers at a man who was trying to call something out to her. She gave him a good-natured rebuttal and he sat down laughing. 

Samantha turned away from the room and placed her elbows on the bar. What the hell was she doing here thinking she could handle herself with this crowd? She pulled out her phone to check the time—

—and nearly jumped when a full shot glass slid to a stop inches from her fingers.