Posted on

The Deal

Picture of a neon sign readin "Red Light District" in what looks like a dimly red-lit corridor.

The Red Light District. Flesh, pleasures, drugs, weapons. Danger, in a quarter that is all shadows and strident lights. Fantastic.

Maren, of all the places, you had to get in here. Why?

“Hello, sailor lady. See something you like?”

“I’m looking for a woman,” I say. For an occult detective, I’m not specially brilliant today.  I’m going to blame it on how worried I am. Maren has not been using her body for that long.

“Oh, we can arrange that,” he drones on. “Or you could have us both perhaps? We’ll offer you a special price for it…”

Contact.

We’re both in a blank space. He looks surprised, at least for a moment. Funny, his avatar looks exactly the way he looked outside. His AI looks like a plain sphere floating beside him.

“Whoa, lady! You have a private neuralink?” he says. His AI is spinning madly.

“I have more than that. I’m not just looking for a woman, I’m looking for this woman,” I say. I let him see Maren. “I’ve been told you’re the most knowledgeable person around.”

He stares at Maren. There’s something in his eye, in the way he looks. Does he recognize her?

I decide to be cautious. Something tells me that’s the best avenue.

“I need to find her. She fled from home last night.” I send him my ID. “I think she’s unwell.”

“Rebecca September?” My name rings a bell, I can see. Or two.

“Yes.”

“Hm. You see, I think I might have something for you, but it’s a pity… You’re not the kind of person I can be traced to having had business with, you know? Or at least, business that is not… of the flesh.”

“I can make it untraceable,” I lie. Not without Maren, no I cannot. “Or… I could owe you a favour?”

The guy’s clever. I can see it. I hope I didn’t sound as desperate as I thought.

“Now that is indeed interesting. I’ve dealt in money, flesh and info. You’re asking me to deal in favours?”

Damn, I’ve busted it.

“I’ll tell you what. I want my own private neuralink. Can you get me that?”

“Yes,” I say. I try not to sound too anxious. Mignon will kill me for promising it, but she’ll make it. After all, it’s for Maren, and Maren is her daughter. So to speak.

“And you will still owe me one,” he adds.

I have a brief flash forward, and I don’t like it. This damned oracle training of mine. How can they live with this lack of control is something I’ll never understand. Trouble ahead if I cut this deal. Big trouble. Futures whirling in my mind.

“Agreed,” I say. The futures coalesce. I see pain and spilled blood and darkness, and then it’s gone.

Nothing new.

He grabs my arm, my real one. How can he be so warm? I detect no magic in him. Is it cyber enhanced then?

“Come with me, sailor lady,” he says in a sultry and wet tone that anyone can hear. “I think we can find what you want… inside. You have Tristan’s word on that.”

And thus he sealed the deal.

Posted on

Busted Heist

“Leave the bottle,” Jeena said.

“You’ve already had…” the wench said.

“Leave it I say!”

Harkee nodded to the young woman, and pulled the bottle closer to Jeena. The wench shrugged, shifting her attention to the next nearly drunk customer.

“You were saying…?” Harkee said, and poured another glass. It was obvious that Jeena no longer noticed it was only her glass being refilled each time.

“We had everything planned, was what I was saying. E-ve-ry-thing. Down to the tiniest detail.”

“But it went wrong.”

A gulp, a knock on the table. A refill.

“The energy crystals, you know them? It was the perfect opportunity, what with the bloody things being auctioned. We had a buyer, we had a window. It was going to be fast and subtle.”

“And yet.”

“And yet.”

Slosh. Bang. Refill.

“The guards. At first we thought they were going to use automatons, but no. Automatons would have been easier. But those brute trolls are special, they don’t even flinch. But you know what? They’re curious.”

“That’s a racial…”

“That’s true. A fact. We just had to create a distraction. Two steamcarts crashed by the corner. We knew they wouldn’t move, but half their mind would be attracted to the din. They cannot help it. And that’s what we wanted, because right when the clash took place we broke in.”

“Through the kitchen floor.”

“Yes. From the sewers. Timed to the second, bless Nikaia. After that, the hiss from a pierced boiler hid any noise we made.”

“How did you know a boiler would… Ah.”

Swig. Crack. Refill.

“Next, the magical defenses. Nina took care of them. You should have seen her. She shone. Literally. She stood there, weaving her threads, picking locks and choosing paths. She took her own sweet time, and I was just about to call it off when she almost collapsed and said it was done.”

“Did you leave her there?”

“Who do you think we are?”

Harkee didn’t answer. It was obvious Jeena was alone at the inn.

“We ran upstairs. I’m no sorceress, but I’m experienced enough. I saw the traces of Nina’s work everywhere. The building had been a maze of magic traps. But they were all disabled.”

Guzzle. Smash. Refill.

“And then we faced the puzzle. An automated panel for the last door.”

“Your job.”

“Ha! No. Nikaia has built a… a can opener, though she’d kill me if she heard me call it that. She’s the most skilled artificer, though I’ll deny I ever said that. Anyway… anyway, she rested her device on the panel, and fried it from the inside. A click, and we were inside.”

“Now it was your turn.”

“Yes. The safe was, can you believe it, behind a picture of the auction house. Like in a cheap novel. And the bastard gave us a surprise. He had changed the safe.”

“No way.”

“Yes way. It should have been a Hacker Safeguard 3234, it was an Ironforge GY. Tough beasts. But I’m tougher. It took me exactly forty-two seconds longer to open it. And there it was, the carved wooden case with its own clockwork lock. But I knew the combination. It had… It cost me.”

Chug. Clap. Refill.

Harkee waited.

“The bloody crystals should have been inside. But they weren’t! There was a note. A note! ‘Better luck next time, ladies. The Ghost.’ And it burned up right there, in front of me, and dissolved in the air leaving no trace, as an alarm went off.”

Harkee didn’t wait for her to demand the next refill.

“We bolted away. Barely. And split, because that is what our contingency plans require, don’t you think I didn’t notice you questioning our loyalty to each other. And don’t even dare to deny it.”

Harkee picked up his own glass. He drank and remained silent.

“I’ll kill him,” Jeena said.

“Who?”

“That bloody Ghost. I’m gonna kill him. It’s the last time he crosses our path.”

“But you don’t even know who he is. Hell, you don’t know if he’s a man.”

“I’m sure he is a man. And I’ll kill him.”

Jeena quaffed yet another shot. She didn’t catch Harkee’s smirk.

Posted on

Legends Of Old

It’s her eyes.

Yes, she’s beautiful. Yes, her delicate body sways whenever she moves. Yes, she smells like heaven on earth. Yes, her voice is sweet and delicious like honey on pancakes.

But oh her eyes. The way she looks at you. One glance is all it takes: you’re lost, body and soul. Sucked into all the promises her pupils hold.

Ensnared by a stare.

And then.

And then, consumed by her fire.

***

“It didn’t use to be like this.”

“Oh please.”

“In the old times…”

“In the old times, I hadn’t even been born.”

“As if I didn’t know.”

“Look, mother, it’s bad enough that I have to compete because you still retain the looks of your youth…”

“Of my youth?”

“…but please, let me be. I am who I am. I am the way I am. And I am not like you. Well, not exactly like you.”

“Of my youth?”

“Mother…”

“Ah well. You have never had any respect at all. No manners. Your father’s fault, no doubt.”

“Mother, don’t get father into this.”

“That would be impossible, since he’s nowhere to be seen, eh? Not around any longer. No, all he wanted was… Well, he got it. And you’re the result.”

“Are you… are you…?”

“Weeping? Yes! Because I was young back then! Young of spirit! And he abused me, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot forget that, because I have a constant reminder!”

“Me…?”

“You! Yes, you! And not like you think! Because I love you, and you make me proud, no matter what. And… and you remind me of him. And I… I cannot forgive or forget.”

“Mother…”

“I’m… I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. It’s… it’s not your fault.”

“Mother…”

“It’s alright. It’ll pass. It always does. Funny, eh? Ironic. The seduced and abandoned siren.”

Posted on

Writer Toils

Alex needed the words, but the words didn’t come.

She went into the kitchen, put water to heat, selected a tea can, poured a cup. She took her tea back into the leaving room, sat down, and stared out the window, thinking.

And still nothing came.

Oh, of course, nothing worth writing. Her mind boiled with everyday little matters. Bills to be paid, errands to be run. That kind of thing.

But fiction? It eluded her this morning. And that was a problem, because she was a fiction writer.

And she had a deadline.

Right. Back to square one, Alex thought. What did she have, aside from that deadline?

Nothing.

Ah, but no, that wasn’t true. She had a character. Without a name. It was a pity, because names helped her fix on her characters. But characters seldom appeared with their names attached.

Hm.

On her couch, her cat, Merry, shifted without waking up.

Alex sipped some tea, picked her notebook and a few pens without looking at their colours, and sat on the floor. She opened the notebook on her coffee table.

“Character Name:” It was a vibrant blue.

She changed pens. In an orangish brown, she started firing words.

Intuitive
Punctual
Respectful
Caring
Humorous
Generous
Cheerful

Ah, too many. Time to throw in some negative ones. A dark green spat some more words.

Messy
Cold
Weak
Erratic
Anxious

Now she had something. A black pen, boring, but anyway. In fact, Alex thought, we could even split these into two characters. Miriam. One was Miriam. And Jermaine. What if they’re together? Yes. Yes, they are. They have been a couple, for some time. We’ll have to decide if they have married or not, and why. Later.

Fiction, fiction. There was something wrong with their relationship. Yes. That happens to couples. But fiction, Alex, fiction, she thought. What’s happened? A maroon pen now? Ah, Jermaine met someone… Where does she work? She’s a yoga instructor, and there was this guy. And something clicked between them. And Jermaine couldn’t understand it, because after all, hey, she had always liked women and she and Miriam were a couple and those things only happened in the novels, right?

A deep blue pen. Hugo… no, Lorenzo. Lorenzo was the guy’s name. Ah, how long until Jermaine discovered his true nature? The fact that he had… this glamour? Yes, it had been used before. Alex could change that later. And Lorenzo… Ah, fantastic, he had shifted realities. He had run from his family and his duties (which duties?), but he had a problem because he had found he couldn’t completely hide his powers while in our world.

Alex changed colours. Leaf green. An attack. Strange wolf-like creatures that attack Jermaine when she was talking to Hugo after a class. Only she hadn’t realized they had come for Lorenzo in the first place.

A fiery orange brought Miriam back. Alex laughed as she wrote: “Miriam is a shapeshifter.” Ha. Where had that come from? “And of course Jermaine didn’t know.”

Right. And now it was time to try and see how all of those clicked together.

Alex walked into the kitchen, her mind racing. She grabbed the pot, and for a second wondered why the water inside was hot. She shrugged and made herself a cup of tea.

She went into the living room, grabbing her pens and notebook and sat by her computer.

Merry shifted again and purred, still asleep.

The first cup of tea lay abandoned on the coffee table by the couch, almost cold now.

Posted on

A Story Begins

Nathaniel decided to rest for a moment. He tenderly slapped the spine of the last cow before walking to the water pump. He refreshed himself and stared at the mountains in the distance. They still looked craggy and blue in the haze, but they no longer frightened him.

“Nathaniel!”

“Coming Gramps!”

When Nathaniel had first arrived at Gramps’, he was but a kid. A freed slave, with all the fear and shame that title carried back then. The mountains had scared him. He had never seen peaks that high, and they made him nervous somehow. It was silly, but a kid cannot control his worries, can he?

Of course, now he knew he was one of the few who had had all kinds of luck to reach freedom. Luck, and the blood of companions, and family. His grandfather, Samuel, had not been idly waiting for him to arrive, he had found out much later.

But that was behind him now. The man that Nathaniel had grown into could smell his lunch and feel his stomach growl. With a smile, he entered the house using the kitchen door.

***

The Dream came that night.

How did he know it was the Dream? He just knew. Gramps had told him it would come, many times. Nathaniel had got used to smiling and nodding.

“When it comes, I’ll tell you, Gramps.”

Nathaniel walked in the forest, far from the prairie Gramps’ house was in. A raccoon and a fox and a stag appeared and they all talked to him, in his head.

This had to be the Dream, for sure.

There were no words, yet the meaning was clear.

“The moment has come. The world needs you.”

“Will there be perils ahead?”

“You know there will.”

Images whirled around him. A black rider on a black horse, braving rain, hail and snow, and the scorching sun. Wading dangerous rivers. Crossing mountain passes. Defying the looks from others as the silver star shone in his lapel.

Battling abominations. A revolver that shone green and banished monsters. The gift of the Vision bestowed upon him. Communion with native wise men.

And there was more. Carnage, blood, damnation, loss. A small girl that came from it all. A changeling. And then another. His children. His children.

And a name.

***

Nathaniel woke bathed in sweat, the sun beams already filtering through the curtains in his window.

“Gramps. You knew. You always knew.”

He dressed up, empty gun belt and all, thinking that he’d have to acquire black clothes. Luckily Cloud, regardless of his name, was already a black horse. Nathaniel kneeled and felt for the case under his bed. He cleaned the revolver he kept in there one more time, and then put it in its place.

All those hours Gramps had had him practicing would come in handy now.

Nathaniel grabbed his hat and put it on.

***

“Gramps?”

“Ah! So it’s happened!”

“Yes. The Dream has come.”

“Indeed.”

“The Joneses won’t understand why I leave, but they will not reject our cows, don’t you think?”

“Good choice.”

“The time has come and I’m afraid, Gramps.”

“I know. I was, too.”

“Any advice?”

“I’ve taught you all I knew, including my advice. But here’s this: never stop learning. There’s more out there in the world than you can think of.”

“It’s good advice.”

“I think so. You should be going.”

“I know. But…”

“The time has come.”

“I know.”

“Hm. You know, Samuel is not my real Name.”

“Yes.”

“My Name remained back home, one ocean over. Where I protected my people from the dangers of the world. It’s time you do that, here in this new world of us. Have you Seen your Name?”“I have.”
“And what is your Name?”

“My Name is Crow.”

“Begone now, Crow. Farewell.”

And Crow rested a hand on his grandfather’s tombstone, the one behind his old house, and sighed as he felt the soul of the old warrior finally leave him.

“Farewell.”

Well, here’s my first short story of the year. When I saw the image I had this idea of recycling an old character of mine, Crow. This is how his journey begins. I never expected to enjoy writing Weird West stories, but it turns out I do.

In time, I plan to have all my stories moved (or copied) here, so you can also enjoy them directly. But for now I’ll add links to them as soon as I can.