***
Raphael hit the buzzer again. “Martha, please let me in.”
“I'm sorry but Madame is no longer interested in your business. Go away.”
I looked at the bleak metal door and the stairs behind the armor glass. The building was old. A two story, affair from the beginning of the last century. Retail on the bottom, though from the looks of the graffiti on the boarded up windows nobody had used the storefront in a long time, office space on top. A small sign over the door to the stairwell proclaimed Madame De Gaul, Dress Maker – Tailoring & Alterations.
I could feel a headache coming on. I have a spell focus that lets me go outside in the daylight without bursting into flames. The spell couldn't take care of everything. Making things worse, I was holding masking spells on myself and Kelly. Keeping multiple illusions going is difficult. If Raphael couldn't get in, maybe I could. It might make things worse.
A slight burning sensation as the sun came out from behind a cloud made up my mind. Quietly I toggled on my system identification number. My real SIN.
“Ms. Blackhaven are you out there?”
“Indeed, I am Martha. How about letting me in?” The door gave a desultory buzz and unlocked.
Everything seemed to going well unto we met Madame De Gaulle. As the four of us were ushered into a cramped workspace she looked right at me, and through me. “I'm sorry Ms. Blackhaven but I can't help you. You're dead.”
“Not all the way. And your wings match your tattoos. Shall we drop the pretense.” With relief I dropped the masks. At the same time, the old and proper French matron in front of me melted away, revealing a young woman, about a foot and a half tall with dark hair, butterfly wings, and an impressive set of tattoos. The pixie, UCAS doesn't recognize them as people either, was wearing much less than her mask, but what she had on looked blessedly fashionable.
“Nice outfit.”
“Thanks, you're still dead.”
“Well, can you make me an outfit that looks like I'm only going half way to a funeral?”
“Maybe, what do you need it for.”
“Um, it's a bit embarrassing. I'm going to a Vampire posser club with Ralph. Can you make us something that isn't going to want to make me blush?”
“Cheaply,” Raphael added.
Pretending not to hear Ralph, De Gaul asked “you can blush?”
“Yeah, and um it's kind of hard to hide.” Saying Nosferatu have white skin is an understatement.
“Any special requirements?”
“Armored. Also one of us is also going to need an armored cloak or something that we can throw over someone quickly. The guy we're meeting might not have armor.”
“How much is all this going to cost?” Raphael whined.
Good question. Hum lets see, “Budget is five thousand.”
“That really isn't much for what you're asking for.”
“I'll throw in an extra five hundred. Besides, things go a bit more quickly when you aren't using a sewing machine.”
“Ok, let me get your measurements.
* * *
I watched as Yvonne cast another fashion spell on Raph. I had to admit, she had us looking good. How Raph happened to find this tailor I don't know. Leaving Raph to Yvonne's ministrations, she might be using magic but it didn't seem to hamper her ability to stick him with pins, I ducked out into the hall. If Raph realized that Yvonne was turning him into a pincushion, but hadn't had a problem pinning my outfit, he certainly wasn't letting on.
Kelly leaned over next to me, “you look worried.”
“I'm wondering if a corporate hit squad is going to show up.”
“That was your real SIN wasn't it.”
“Maybe.”
“I'm not sure I would have done that with those two jokers around.”
“Like I said, if somebody wants to find me all they really need is to start asking around about the Nosferatu. Kelly, what's wrong?”
“I'm sorry its just that. I knew you came from a corp family. It's just, well – corp born – didn't sink in before. You've been special and powerful all of your life. Now, you're Nosferatu, you're going to be young and special and powerful after I'm old and dead.”
Uh, Oh. That hit like a ton of bricks. Speaking of old, this place was old. There had to be some exposed wood in here. Taking my gloves off, I ran my hand across the banister and bit back a yelp of pain as it started to blister. When I said Nosferatu are allergic to wood I wasn't kidding.
Catching Kelly's eyes I held out my hand. “Kelly Jones, you are my best friend. There are more Nosferatu in this world than mystic adepts. You're going to be powerful and special long after I'm dead.”
“Jen, I'm sorry, I . . .”
“It's fine. Um, can you give me a minute, I need to do something about the hand.”
“Save the spell, I have some hydrocortisone cream in my medkit.”
* * *
Kelly and I gazed at the spirit we'd just summoned. It arrived as a pulsing red blob of resentment three inches across. Despite practicing, slightly, different traditions of magic, we'd decided to work together to summon spirits for tonight. Kelly's ghost came without much trouble. My air elemental not so much.
“I don't know what happened. They normally don't show up angry.”
Kelly took a deep look at the spirit, “it's bound right? That thing looks small but it's intense.”
“Yeah, it's bound. Um, let me see if I can ask it what's wrong.”
I looked into the soul of a spirit pushing the lower bounds of demigod hood and heard “Fuzzball no like Dark Lady.”
“Well I'm sorry, uh, Fuzzball but it's only for tonight.”
“Fuzzball in bored.”
“So, what would be interesting?”
Mundanes miss half of what's going on around them. When Coldstone and Raphael got back, all they saw was that the ceiling fan was on. No air elemental spinning around on the blades going “wheeee!”
* * *
The bouncer looked at us with incredulity as we bypassed the line and walked to the door. “Sorry, you'll have to go to the back of the line, and have an invite.”
“I thought I had a standing invite.”
“Look. . .”
“No, I think you need to take a look.” Hum lets see if this guy could take a hint. A flicker in his aura told me he'd switched to perceiving the astral. I saw him – low powered physical adept, though by the looks of his aura he was trying to take it in another direction now that his high school football days were over – and he saw me.
“Um, aren't you a bit young.”
A quick flash of my fangs. “What are you worried about, underage drinking?”
“The boss is going to want to talk to you.”
“I'm sure he'll be able to find me.” Ok, clock ticking. Hopefully the boss meant the Vampire who owned the club. If the boss meant something that didn't like talking, I could end up needing that extraction plan
When you need to do something fast, everything takes forever. I found a table off the dance floor with Raph and discretely removed some jewelry, actually disguised components of the gun. As Ralph slipped off to the men's room to put the thing together, I caught site of our target on the dance floor with a group of younger women. Two security goons outside so, that would make the woman over there with the worried aura his bodyguard inside the club. Well no reason to waste time. I hit the dance floor and started working my way toward Mr. Thompson. Then my comlink bleeped.
<You don't want to be around the old guy.>
<Why not? Seems to have money.>
<He takes vamp-girls home with him, then slips things into their drinks.>
<I won't be drinking . . . alcohol tonight.>
<Look, that's a nice costume and all but that guy's dangerous.>
<. . . that's not a costume is it?>
<I don't normally wear leather.>
<You're a vampire.>
<Nosferatu and you're a technomancer.>
<What makes you say that?>
<Your aura just urked.>
Great, more complications. Where was Raphael? My com unit bleeped again and I saw I'd got a pic from our target. I quickly set the filters on my comlink to trash any further pictures of Mr. Thompson's, um, augmentation. Damn, need to get that out of my head. Fortunately, the outfit – straight out of Days of Darkness II – included a gold circlet with a trode net. Let's see, that fund Thompson ran, pull up prospectus. Yep, a lot of over leveraged drek. Makes the manager look brilliant right up until the moment his luck runs out and it implodes. Well, at least if I had to talk to him, I might be able to find a subject other than his um yeah.
Luck just wasn't with me. By the time Raphael showed up Thompson was combining drunken dancing with groping me. I'd also been told not to worry my “pretty little head” about what he did for work. If there was a bright side, it was that I'd managed to maneuver him near one of the fire exits while his security looked on from across the floor. Raph hit him at just the right moment and we were through the door. Then everything exploded.
Throwing ourselves into the ally way I saw a human dressed in dark clothing and carrying a swordcane. I needed only the briefest look for his aura to tell me he was a vampire.
“My Lady. I'm afraid I can't let you have that man.”
“Would it help if I said this was an extraction, not lunch?”
“Alas, I'm afraid not. My establishment has certain agreements to maintain security for its guests.”
Ok, so much for that, let's see what he said to the trump card. “Would it make any difference if I told you my rigger friend had a rotodrone with a sniper rifle on it pointed at your head.”
Maybe it was the threat, or maybe it was the three other runners that barreled through the door behind me but the club owner suddenly transformed into a white mist. There are times I really wish I could do that. The other runners included my technomancer friend, an ork with a bunch of chrome and a magician, all ready to play.
The screech of tires at the end of the ally announced that arrival of my ride. I looked up to see Kelly, very deliberately, eject a clip from her gun marked with red tape and insert a new one marked with blue. For a second the world seemed to stand still as the other team followed suit switching clips. A quick mental call to my spirit – Fuzzball I need you. Nothing lethal please, unless I tell you otherwise – and we were ready to go. Then Thompson's security pulled up at the other end of the ally.
Standing between three armed groups I did the only thing I could think of. Tried to buy some time. “Ladies and Gentlemen before we all start shooting at each other there is one thing I would like to say: Catch us if you can!” With that signal I dropped a little packet of chemicals onto the ground. A flash, a loud bang, and a puff of smoke followed. Not as good as an actual smoke grenade, but sometimes the old tricks are the best.
Catch us if you can was the signal for Fuzzball to conceal us. A spirit as powerful as Fuzzball can make you practically invisible. The right spell can make you actually invisible, but throwing an illusion onto three people just wasn't going to happen. Too bad neither team of runners knew Thompson had a type II security protocol. Type II, as in if you can't stop the extraction geek the target. Thompson's security filled the ally with lead. The bullet went through my neck, severing the jugular artery. Ironic I know. The last thing I remembered was seeing Raph hustle Thompson into the van.
***
For the second time in my life I woke up from being dead. Regeneration is one of the side effects of HMHVV. Without using magic, I'd never had a wound heal itself while I watched before. So it looked like I was alive again – and less human than I started, again.
The alley was full of smoke and gunfire. Siren's wailed in the distance. After taking a near fatal shot, the first thing that went through my mind was “oh, go away and leave me alone.” A quick blast spell, it's designed to use concussive force to knockout everyone in its area of effect, silenced the shooting. I dragged myself to the van and fell in.
Four very surprised faces looked back at me. Wrong van. Uh, oh. The wailing of sirens emphasized my predicament. Ok, weak hand so play to strength. “Drive, unless you want to to explain all of this to the cops.”
“Why shouldn't we just geek you right now and collect the bounty?” The ork said deliberately leveling a gun at me.
“I don't know, professional courtesy maybe.”
As if on cue, Fuzzball popped into the air. “You no hurt Brighy Lady.” Thank you Fuzzball!
To ork gave Fuzzball a strange look. I guess a five foot two girl forever frozen and sixteen and a small ball of light isn't that intimidating. Then the magician spoke up. “Neill, you remember I told you on a scale from one to ten, my spirits were fours and fives. Well that thing's a seven. It can hit with the force of an assault cannon round. Chill, this situation is more . . . complicated than it looks.”
“Thanks. I don't suppose you have a transfusion kit in the medbag back there. I've lost a lot of blood.”
“Yeah, sure. Any problems with O-negative?”
“None.”
“Tron, can you hand me the IV.”
“Keep the IV. Those things are expensive. Don't suppose you have a straw?”