Shadowrun 43 - Fallen Angels Page 3

  When Lothan first introduced Kellan to conjuring, she told him she wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of calling up spirits and commanding them to do her bidding. Although she considered herself a practical person, Kellan couldn't help but wonder: if spirits acted like intelligent beings, able to understand and carry out orders, then how did they feel about being whistled up to do a mage's dirty work? Wasn't forcing them into service wrong?

  After making some crack about how that didn't differ very much from the job description of a shad-owrunner, Lothan had patiently explained that servitor spirits such as elementals, while intelligent, were not necessarily any more self-aware than sophisticated computer programs (though Kellan wondered about those sometimes, too). Spirits were made to serve, in Lothan's expert opinion. It was only those times when the summoner was careless or overeager, when spirits escaped from their bindings and became something more, that they acquired that spark of sentience, of will, perhaps from the very ritual intended to place them into service.

  In the end, Lothan said it didn't matter to him whether Kellan wanted to learn conjuring or not. He was perfectly content to teach her nothing but spells, or limit his lessons to banishing and defending against hostile spirits rather than summoning them. It was a decision Kellan needed to make for herself, not one she could be forced into, if she was ever going to be able to do the rituals properly.

  In the end, it was Lothan's willingness not to teach her that convinced Kellan that she ought to learn. The old troll was just a little too happy to keep the secrets of conjuring to himself, to not pass on some of his carefully hoarded knowledge and experience. Kellan knew Lothan liked to play his cards close to the vest. She also knew you didn't pass up something that could give you an edge in the shadows, because you could be sure the other guy wouldn't, and then you'd be yesterday's news.

  So she decided to take Lothan at his word and at least try learning the basics of spirit summoning. She couldn't judge it until she'd at least tried it for herself, and she didn't want Lothan quietly lording his superior knowledge over her for all time. So she learned to summon watchers, simple-minded spirits used to spy and carry messages and such. Then she learned to summon the spirits of the elements, and put that knowledge to work.

  Kellan quickly lost track of time in the warm haze of the incense smoke as she chanted, her voice rising and falling like waves, like wind rippling across water. The air was still and close, the candles giving off a surprising amount of warmth inside the confines of the circle. Whenever the smoke rising from the burner began to thin out, Kellan added another pinch of incense from her jar, until the room was almost filled with the smoke, and she could barely make out Lothan looming in the haze.

  A cool breeze from the open window stirred the warm, still air, making the smoke from the incense swirl and dance. Kellan focused on the chant, and on the tingling energy she felt building up, flowing up her legs, all along her body, down her arms to her fingertips, up to set her head buzzing. She felt a subtle pressure at the base of her skull, a feeling in the back of her mind like a thought just out of reach, waiting to he remembered. She held on to that feeling and continued the chant, letting it build before she held her hands out toward the incense burner and focused all her attention beyond it to the triangle drawn outside of her circle.

  She spoke the final invoking words of the spell, and felt the gathered power rush out of her, like a spring suddenly released. A wind moaned and whistled through the window, and the smoke gathered, pulled toward the space above the triangle like a magnet to metal, spinning slowly around a central point about a meter off the floor. The small cloud began spinning faster, reeling in more and more of the smoke.

  "Be here now!" Kellan commanded, and there was a crack like thunder, loud in the enclosed room. The swirling cloud of smoke hovering in the air at arm's length from the incense burner opened glowing eyes of electric blue, the color of the edge of a lightning bolt, bright against the dark gray mist. It hovered there, looking at Kellan, and for a moment she felt like the energy she had released was trying to push its way back into her brain. She resisted, not looking away from the hovering spirit, and the pressure suddenly stopped. The glowing eyes seemed to blink, and the swirling cloud resolved itself into a rippling collection of mist, hovering, waiting. Waiting for her to command it.

  Kellan realized she was holding her breath and let it out in a sigh, brushing the back of one hand across her forehead to wipe away the sweat that had gathered there. She looked over at Lothan and a wide grin spread across her face. Her teacher only raised an eyebrow and got up from his stool with a slightly bored, jaded look. He stepped closer to the hovering spirit and looked it over. He held his left hand open and moved it around the outermost edges of the spirit's misty form, and wrinkled his prominent nose as he sniffed the air. If the spirit noticed any of this testing, it didn't react, and kept its eyes on Kellan.

  Finally, Lothan straightened up. "Congratulations," he said. "You have successfully summoned a complete, albeit minor, air elemental. The spirit clearly bears the stamp of your aura, so I would say it is properly bound in your service."

  Kellan glanced from Lothan to the hovering spirit. It remained impassive, waiting for her to command it.

  "What do I do now?" she asked.

  "You can dismiss it," Lothan said. "I think we've done enough for tonight. You can call it again as you need it with far less effort than it took to summon and bind it. Go ahead." He returned to his stool while Kellan took a deep breath, recalling the techniques she'd studied and practiced under Lothan's supervision.

  It was almost like relaxing a muscle. She didn't need to speak, but simply turn her attention to the spirit and will it away, sending it back to where it came from, to await her call again. She felt a flicker of acknowledgement across the ether, almost like a spiritual nod; then the glowing eyes vanished and the cloud of mist seemed to collapse in on itself. It swirled, like it was being sucked into a hole in the air and suddenly, with an almost audible pop, it was gone. Kellan looked down. The incense burner had gone cold. The air in the basement was as crisp and clean as she'd ever known it to be, with a faint tang of ozone—like the clean smell after a rainstorm—the only scent remaining.

  Lothan nodded approvingly. "Good," he said rising from his seat. "Now you can clean up and put things away before you go." He turned to leave, but Kellan stopped him.

  "What about the circle?" she asked.

  "What about it?"

  "Well, it can be reused . . ." she began, and Lothan shook his head.

  "I prefer a clean working space, so for your next lesson you'll just have to start over again." He paused by the stairs to toss Kellan a cleaning rag hanging from one side of the workbench. "It's good practice."

  Kellan was left to scrub the chalk marks from the floor and to put away all the equipment in its proper place in the workshop. She looked forward to the time when she could afford a work space of her own, rather than having to use Lothan's. She would certainly leave her ritual circles in place until she needed to draw a new one. Hours of preparation and ritual, just to wipe it all away!

  She relived the feeling when the air elemental regarded her and she knew—she knew she had it, that it was obedient to her will, there to do as she commanded. She couldn't stop herself from feeling a surge of pride, and she grinned as she scrubbed the floor. She could see why Lothan considered conjuring important and why he seemed to enjoy it. Still, she thought wistfully, next time I'm going to summon a spirit that can clean up for me.

  3

  As soon as she was finished cleaning up, Kellan stuck her head into Lothan's study to say good night before shouldering her bag of gear and heading out the door. She was about to kick her motorcycle to life when her phone rang. As soon as she was finished cleaning up, Kellan stuck her head into Lothan's study to say good night before shouldering her bag of gear and heading out the door. She was about to kick her motorcycle to life when her phone rang.

  "Yeah?" she aske
d. There was no ID on the display, which was standard operating procedure for the kind of calls Kellan got.

  "I've got us a job," Midnight said without preamble. "You feeling up for it?"

  Kellan smiled fiercely. "Where and when do you want me to meet you?" Midnight gave her the place and time, and Kellan agreed to be there. Snapping the phone closed, she kicked her bike to life and roared off into the night. Her blood was pumping even more than it had during the summoning. This was a kind of magic, too—shadowrunner magic. There was a job to do, and Kellan had never felt more ready.

  The place was a nightclub called the Alabaster Maiden, on 12th and East Mercer downtown, a modest drive from Lothan's place. Kellan had heard of it, but had never been there. Since it was fairly early in the evening (in shadowrunner time) when she arrived, the club was still pretty quiet.

  She found a place to park her bike and headed up the club's broad stone steps. A young elf woman, her blond hair streaked with fluorescent pink, checked the ID on Kellan's credstick and deducted the cover charge. Kellan's ID didn't give her real name, and also said she was over twenty-one—to facilitate business in Seattle's nightspots. The elf waved her in without a second glance.

  The broad foyer was floored in black marble, with tall greenery in granite planters flanking the entrances and exits. They were checking coats to one side, but Kellan kept hers on and climbed the second set of steps leading up to the club itself.

  In the entryway stood the nightclub's namesake, a life-sized statue of a woman made of almost translucent white stone. She stood as if poised to come to life and move, glancing over one shoulder, a wry, almost smug look on her face. She wore close-fitting leathers and a revealing top under a short jacket, and her wavy hair cascaded past her shoulders.

  Kellan looked up at the statue, standing on a waist-high pedestal of black marble, and wondered. Urban legend said the Alabaster Maiden was actually one of Seattle's first street magicians, back in the years just after the Awakening. According to the story, she overreached her powers one day and was accidentally turned to stone. The club owner bought the statue at auction and arranged to have it displayed; as memorial, warning or revenge, no one knew.

  Thinking for a moment what it must be like to be petrified, trapped, for decades, Kellan started to peer closer at the statue. She summoned her inner vision to look, not with her physical eyes, but with her mystic senses.

  "Kellan." The sound of her name and a gentle touch on her arm jolted Kellan back to the present. She spun to see Midnight standing there.

  "I didn't think you saw me," she smiled, and Kellan blushed in spite of herself.

  "I didn't," she replied. "I was just . . . thinking."

  "Quite a piece of work, isn't it?"

  Kellan glanced back at the statue. "Yeah."

  "You think the rumors are true?" Midnight asked, leading Kellan toward a cluster of tables off to the side of the lounge area.

  "I really don't know. Do you?"

  "I try not to listen to rumors," the elf replied.

  A nearly full glass of white wine stood on the table. Midnight slid into the upholstered bench seat behind the table, leaving the wrought-iron chair opposite it for Kellan, who shook her head when Midnight asked if she wanted anything. A tiny shake of Midnight's head in the direction of the bar received a slight nod in return from the bartender.

  "So," Kellan asked, setting her bag next to her chair, "what's cooking?"

  Midnight took a sip of her wine and leaned forward across the table. "A client of a certain cyberclinic is interested in having all records of an extended visit there eliminated. And not just any cyberclinic," Midnight continued. "A top-of-the-line clinic specializing in . . . discreet operations."

  "If they're so discreet, then why . . . ?"

  Midnight shrugged. "My guess is our client prefers to not take any chances," she said.

  "So we're just supposed to erase information?"

  "That's it."

  "I assume it has to be an inside job?"

  "Yes. The datastores are protected offline—no Matrix access. We need to get inside, get access to the data and delete certain files."

  "Sounds simple enough."

  Midnight smiled faintly. "I wouldn't quite call it simple, Kellan, but I think it's something we can do."

  "Sounds to me like something you can do," Kellan said, cocking an eyebrow at Midnight. "Getting inside a secure building and deleting data is right up your alley. What do you need me along for?"

  "Magic," Midnight said simply. "Everybody's making more use of magic in security these days, and according to my information, this clinic can afford some decent magical safeguards. So I need someone who knows the Art and can work backup to respond to whatever magical security they might have. That's you. While I have my talents, magic has never been one of them."

  Makes sense, Kellan thought. It was true that those with the means were beginning to rely on a combination of magic and technology to provide security, taking a layered approach and hoping the mundane measures would stymie the Awakened, while the magical security did the same to the mundane experts like Midnight who were able to overcome most technological measures.

  "Plus," Midnight continued, "you've got solid computer skills—you know how to handle data, and you can take care of yourself if there's trouble."

  "Wouldn't you be better off with a real decker?" Kellan asked. Midnight was right—she'd always had solid computer skills, and had invested in a decent cyberdeck and software since coming to Seattle. But Kellan knew her abilities fell far short of those of a professional decker like Jackie Ozone or any of the other codeslingers she knew.

  "I think you're up to handling this one."

  "And the client?" Kellan asked.

  "Prefers to remain anonymous, of course."

  "But if we're supposed to delete the client's info . . ."

  Midnight smiled and raised her eyebrow. "Who said it was the client's files we're being hired to eliminate?"

  Kellan snorted softly. "Good point." Blind and double-blind. No real surprise, either, since anonymity and deniability were primary concerns in the shadows. Corporations, governments and many other organizations hired shadowrunners because runners were difficult to trace, and so insulated their employer in the event the runners got caught or decided to make more money by selling out to the competition. Midnight probably didn't know who their employer was, either; most times, there were multiple layers of deniability between the fixer, who arranged for the talent, the runners and the client, who usually preferred to not know who was hired to do the job.

  "So what's it pay and how soon do we do it?" Kellan asked. Midnight named a figure, and Kellan's eyes widened involuntarily. It was more nuyen than she'd ever made on a single run.

  "That's your cut," the elf said, "assuming you're interested."

  "How soon?" she asked again, as her way of accepting the job.

  "Time is of the essence on this one."

  "Then we'd better get started," Kellan replied.

  "Excellent," Midnight said with a smile. Suddenly, a waitress bearing a tray appeared, and set a glass of wine on the table in front of Kellan as Midnight lifted her own.

  "Always happy to run with a talented coworker," she toasted. They clinked glasses and drank, and Midnight began filling Kellan in on the broad strokes of the run.

  They had only three days to plan and carry out the assignment if they wanted to get paid, so as soon as they finished their wine, they adjourned from the Alabaster Maiden and went to Kellan's apartment to begin planning. Even though the basics of every B&E run were the same, every situation was unique, so they had a lot of work to do.

  After hours of reviewing the initial data and planning their tasks for the next two days, both women were ready to crash. Midnight accepted Kellan's offer to stay at her place for the night rather than going home. That way they could resume work earlier in the morning. Midnight sacked out on the couch, and Kellan lay in bed, her brain repeatedly reviewing what
they knew so far about the run, until she finally drifted off to sleep.

  In her dreams, Kellan was running, running through dimly lit corridors at once familiar and strange. A reddish orange light was growing brighter behind her, and she ran faster, feeling heat against her back. She looked behind her again to see if it was gaining on her, and ran smack into a wall, falling to the floor as she rebounded.

  But it wasn't a wall, it was a massive troll. Lothan glowered down at her, bushy white brows drawn together over dark eyes.

  "What are you running from, Kellan?" he asked her.

  "I don't know."

  "Just turn around and look."

  "I ... I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "Lothan, I'm afraid."

  "Fear doesn't make things go away, Kellan," he responded calmly. "Fear simply makes things."

  "I don't know what it is. . . ."

  "The only way you will know is to turn and look."

  The light grew brighter, casting Lothan's craggy features in sharp relief, shedding a glow the color of blood over his rune-stitched coat and the gleaming stone in his staff. Kellan felt the amulet she wore at her throat growing hot. She slowly began to turn around.

  A shadow flicked across the edge of her vision, silhouetted black against the light, and Kellan felt a stabbing pain in her back. She fell forward, clutching the lapels of Lothan's coat as he sadly shook his head. Her back felt hot and wet, and her vision swam, beginning to go dark.

  "Too late," the old troll muttered. "Too late."

  "Lothan!"

  Kellan bolted awake, her hand clutching the sheets and blankets in an iron grip. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she blinked in the darkness of the room, lit only by the slivers of moonlight and neon that found a way around the edges of the shades.

  "Kellan, are you all right?" Midnight said softly from the doorway. Kellan started; she hadn't heard Midnight approach, couldn't see her in the dark.

  "Yeah . . . yeah, I'm fine. Just a dream."