Dark Company (18 page)

“We’re going to go see another friend of ours who would love to meet you. We can jump together. Are you game?”

It had to be better than moping around in her room. “Sure.”

“Shouldn’t you call first?” Kenji said. “You know how the old codger hates it when we arrive
unannounced
.”

Old codger? Skylark tried to hide her disappointment. She was hoping Timon was young.

Francis brushed Kenji off. “This is too important. Skylark and I will meet you there—don’t get sidetracked. Skylark, you’re going to hold my hand and let your mind go completely blank. Can you do that?”

“I think so.”

“Good.”

It was actually a relief to let someone else do the jumping for a change—especially with her track record. Skylark took Francis’s hand. With a bright clap, they vanished. Seconds later, they were standing in an ornately decorated Victorian-era room, books lining the walls, fire roaring, stately wingback chairs strategically placed to allow for the most heat. It was a nice place. Much nicer than Francis and Kenji’s. And she hadn’t reverted back to her robe state when they jumped. Probably because Francis had done the driving—she’d hardly needed to use any energy at all. Certainly not enough to make her return to her etheric form. In any case, she was feeling quite pleased about it all until an irritated voice addressed them.

“You know how I dislike it when you arrive unannounced,” one of the wingback chairs said. It had a heavy English accent.

Francis took a step toward the fire, her hand still clasped in his. “I’m sorry, Timon. But I think you’ll be interested in seeing this.”

A ribbon of smoke curled above the chair, followed by several languid puffs. “Well … what is it?”

Francis lead Skylark over to the chair. She was anxious, wanting to make a good impression, except that the toe of her boot caught on the edge of the carpet and she nearly tumbled headlong into the fire. Kenji materialized at that very moment, caught her, and helped her up.

“You should have let me bring her,” he said, giving Skylark a wink.

She smiled, brushed the hair from her eyes and found herself in front of a man in his late sixties. He was clean-shaven, with a thick head of bronze hair and two great hairy caterpillars over his blue eyes. He wore a rumpled brown tweed jacket with a matching vest and pants, and brown leather loafers with crepe soles. A pipe hung from his mouth as though it had grown there. He peered disparagingly at Skylark through a cloud of smoke.

“Kenji found her,” Francis started right in.

Timon clenched his teeth on the stem of his pipe. “At the bar, no doubt.”

Kenji ignored the comment, addressing Skylark instead. “Show him your little trick.”

She was starting to feel like a trained seal. Still, the attention was delightful. She closed her eyes and concentrated, the way she had before. Her robe and true form appeared for a moment, then slid away again as her human form reappeared. She opened her eyes. Francis looked hopefully at Timon, who puffed on his pipe, then plucked it from his mouth and sighed, clearly unimpressed.

“A parlour trick, easily learned. We’ve seen this kind of aberration in Spectrals before.”

“Only fleetingly,” Francis said. “Skylark’s the real deal. Look at her EP.”

Timon pointed the stem of his pipe below one eye. “There’s nothing wrong with my vision, Francis.” But he allowed his gaze to slowly drift over Skylark all the same.

Francis grew impatient. “Tell me you see it.”

Timon stuffed his pipe back in his mouth and nodded begrudgingly.

“It’s strong, isn’t it?” Francis said. “Stronger than we’ve ever seen before.”

Timon snatched the pipe from his mouth again and pointed it at her as though she were a piece of furniture. “What’s going on there … with her arm?”

“It’s not my fault,” Skylark blurted out. “I was transformed this way.”

Timon paused, lips open with surprise. He turned to Kenji. “A mouth-talker too?”

Kenji nodded.

Timon turned back to Francis. “Is she capable of telepathic communication?”

Francis looked at Kenji. Kenji looked at Skylark.

“I’m getting better,” she said. For some reason she really wanted them to like her, though she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because they were the closest thing to human she’d met since arriving. And they seemed so excited to have found her …

“What about weapons training?” Timon asked.

Skylark took a step toward his chair. “I’ve done a lot of marching … None of the swords would have me … I really just got here.”

Francis raised his hands. “Did you hear that?” he said cheerfully. “None of the swords would have her.”

Obviously, he thought that was a good thing. Skylark hoped Timon would think so too.

“Yes, yes,” he said, dismissing Francis with a wave of his pipe. “Does she know what we do here?”

Francis and Kenji answered simultaneously. “No.”

“What about her Frequency? Do they know she’s here?”

Kenji and Francis looked at Skylark. She shook her head.

“My totem doesn’t even know,” she said.

Timon tapped the stem of his pipe against his teeth. “Figure it out and get back to me. And for heaven’s sake, let the girl know what she’s getting into.”

Francis saluted. He took Skylark’s hand and prepared to jump.

“And Francis …” Timon interrupted them. “This isn’t anything close to a pass. We need to know more before she becomes a full-fledged member.”

“Of course,” he said. And before Timon could say anything more, Francis and Skylark snapped from the room. They landed in the office with a neat pop, Kenji arriving on their heels. Francis ushered Skylark to a paper-littered seat, brushed the papers to the floor, plopped her down and pulled up a chair beside her. Kenji chose to prop himself against the wall, arms folded. Francis gave him a look.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Ken, you’re making her nervous.”

“I’m okay,” she said.

Kenji sneered. “Just get on with it, old man.”

Francis grew thoughtful. “What we do here … it’s—”

“Very dangerous work,” Kenji interjected.

Francis scowled at him. “It’s top secret. Nobody really knows what we do here. It’s for safety reasons.”

“We hunt bad guys,” Kenji said.

“One bad guy,” Francis corrected him. “We’ve been chasing one very bad guy for a very long time.”

“Centuries,” Kenji said. “… if you consider time relevant.”

“They do on earth,” Francis said.

“Right.”

Francis tipped his hat back. “We’re a dark operations group, working independently from the Legion of Light. We have unique skills, so to speak, a special energetic orientation that sets us apart from the rest. We’re just a bunch of misfits, really. But we can do things and go places others can’t. And we don’t answer to anyone.”

“Except Timon,” Kenji added. “He’s the founding father of our little glee club.”

“And he’s all right,” Francis said.

Kenji shrugged. “For the most part.”

Skylark blinked back at them. They were making her dizzy. “You just look like Guides to me.”

“Is that so?” Francis stood, his hands at his sides. With a slight tremor, he slipped from his human form. He beamed back at her, silver hair and beard flowing, his skin and robe glowing. Skylark straightened in her chair, mouth gaping, and turned toward Kenji. He, too, had changed into an ethereal being. They were just like her! He smiled when he saw the look on her face.

“What are we?” she asked.

Francis winked. “We’re a whole lot of confusion, it seems. We have a set ethereal shape, like a Spectral, but we can slipstream our form and hold it like a Guide. That makes us pretty special.” He leaned toward her. “I can’t tell you how thrilling it is to have found another one of our own. That makes four of us now in the City of Light, including Timon. And I think you’re even more special than the three of us combined. I just feel it.”

“Where are your totems?” Skylark asked.

“I never had one,” Kenji said. He pointed to Francis. “He lost his.”

“Don’t go there,” Francis warned him. “You know that’s a tender bruise.”

They reverted back to their human forms. Francis took her hand. “We wouldn’t expect you to start right away. You’d have to train. You’d have to familiarize yourself with the way we do things around here.”

“You could get hurt,” Kenji said.

Skylark frowned. What did she have to lose? Anything would be better than trying to fit in with the Spectrals.

Kenji and Francis looked at her hopefully, waiting for her answer.

“I’m supposed to be a Warrior,” she said. “I suppose I could get hurt either way.”

Francis glanced at Kenji. “True, true. But we’d have to get approval from your Frequency.”

“I don’t think that’ll be too hard. They don’t seem to know what to do with me anyway.”

“So, they won’t mind then,” Francis said.

Kenji pushed himself from the wall and stood in front of her. “We should at least show her what she’s going up against.”

“Oh, yeah.” Francis sat back down in his chair. Concentrating, he projected a holographic image into the room. It wavered in the air, taking form. The image sharpened and Skylark gasped in disbelief. It was the well-dressed man—the one with the ice-chip eyes. The sight of him made her scarred arm spike with pain.

Francis enlarged the image. “We call him the Speaker. I won’t lie to you. He’s one mean desperado. This guy’s been messing things up since time immemorial. He didn’t start out so tough. He was small potatoes. But he’s been getting dirtier and meaner with every offence. Timon had an inkling about him from the beginning—call it a gut feeling. No one else cared about him around here so they pretty much let us do what we want. Anyway, we’ve been watching him for a very long time. And Ol’ Slippery Tongue’s picked up all kinds of fans on earth over the years. We’re getting close though. Real close. We’ve got intelligence now—good sources.”

A series of scenes scrolled by and Francis narrated. The Spanish Inquisition. The slaughter at Nanking. The Chicago fire. Hitler’s armies. The Salem witch trials—hundreds of tragedies across
time. Scene after scene, the Speaker was there, his frosty eyes gazing indifferently upon the altar of human suffering. Skylark gripped her bad arm, the pain growing with every image.

Francis rattled on. “He’s got a neat trick he does with his voice.” He zoomed in on the picture. “Watch this.”

The Speaker raised a small, intricate metal funnel to his perfect lips. Skylark watched in horror as the demon moved his mouth and a dark tendril wormed from the end of the funnel into his victim’s ear.

“I’ve turned the volume down so you can’t hear him,” Francis said. “He uses his words to convince people to do bad things. When they do bad things, the Light diminishes on the earth plane.”

“Which gives the Dark a chance to take hold,” Kenji said.

“He gets up real close to his victims,” Francis continued. “He uses that dark tendril to transmit his ideas into people’s heads. He trades in hopelessness and despair. Madness and greed. He feeds off the vulnerable and power-hungry in equal measure, preying on those who have fallen into the grips of desperation or moral corruption. We’ve noticed the tendril is getting longer the stronger he gets. Who knows how far he’ll be able to reach. Maybe he won’t even need it if he keeps going.”

“He’s a soul collector too,” Kenji said. “A trophy hunter. He keeps the souls of all his victims trapped in little glass vials—thousands of them. For every vial he keeps, there’s one less soul in the universe. One less flicker of Light.”

Skylark thought she would swoon. It was all so dreadful. “What happens to them … the trapped souls …?”

“Well …” Francis scrubbed his beard. “They’re lost between the frequencies. They stay there, unable to evolve or see the Light.”

Between the frequencies. Skylark shuddered. She’d been there. During the initiation ceremony. What a wretched, lifeless place. She winced, the pain in her arm blistering. What did this demon, this taker of life, want with her?

“I’ve seen him before,” she confessed, her voice a whisper.

“What?” Francis turned his head so quickly, the image was lost.

The pain in her arm thankfully left with it.

“I’ve seen him before,” she said again.

“Where?” Kenji demanded.

“On the earth plane.”

Francis and Kenji exchanged looks.

“Could you find him again?” Kenji asked.

“I think so … I don’t know. I found him by accident … during a jump. There’s some connection between us—something from my past. I just don’t know what it is.”

Francis took her hand. “We need to talk to your superiors right now, get things arranged. Can you take us where we need to go?”

“I can get us to my dorm. My totem’s there. He may be able to help.”

“Your totem … right.” Kenji screwed up his face at Francis. “You know how I feel about working with animals.”

“He’s not that bad,” Skylark said. “He’s just a mouse.”

Kenji looked skeptical. “It’s not the size that worries me. It’s the moralizing.”

“He’s a bit boring,” Skylark said. “Other than that, he’s okay.”

Francis pursed his lips at Kenji. “What do you think?”

“I guess we can work around him.” He took Skylark’s hand. “Ready to rock and roll?”

Francis stood and took her other hand. “Let ’er rip!”

Skylark called up an image of the dorm building. The roaring started, and she saw Francis and Kenji exchange split-second looks of horror before the blast. All three came hurtling down in a heap in the middle of the practice field. They were nowhere near the dorm. Kenji adjusted his glasses and looked sardonically around.

“This is all very pretty, Skylark, but …”

She scrabbled to her feet, slipped back into her human form, and began picking the grass from Francis’s beard. “I’m so sorry. Do you want to try again?”

Francis stood and offered Kenji a hand. Kenji accepted it with a measure of reproach.

“Try to get us in the right ballpark, Skylark,” Kenji said. “And go easy on the rocket juice.”

Skylark concentrated again, this time imagining Sebastian inside her room. There was the roar, and the flash, and they crashed down on her bed, Sebastian leaping to the desk in terror.