Read Online Love and Darkness (The Cause Book 2) by Randall Farmer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Randall Farmer
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by way of a beat-up Pontiac down slow side streets, in from his normal Cape Cod home turf. Haiku was taller than Gilgamesh expected for someone of Japanese ancestry, almost as tall as Gilgamesh, with the lean build and youthful appearance of most Crows. According to Sky, he was just over three years old.
“Gilgamesh, Sky,” he said politely, from twenty feet away. Gilgamesh and Sky nodded back, respectful of the younger Crow’s wariness.
“Any questions? Are you ready?” Gilgamesh asked.
“Are there any Focuses or Arms around?” Haiku asked.
“No, nobody here but us skanky Crows,” Sky said. Little runnels of sweat beaded along Haiku’s hairline, possibly from the heat, but more likely from tension. Haiku gave a quick nod. Sky indicated his vehicle, and Haiku nodded again. This time the motion was shaky.
Sky’s vehicle was a Volkswagen bus, one of Inferno’s many appalling rides. If you didn’t count the fact the engine, wheels and back door had been replaced, and the van repainted several times, this was the van Inferno used when they rescued Tiamat from the FBI all those years ago. Gilgamesh joined Sky in the front seat, and Haiku sat in the back while they made their careful way to North Reading. They parked in the alley behind Focus Francher’s currently deserted household, an old brownstone apartment building, three stories tall and black with gristle dross. They were the only car in the alley.
Sky used his key to open the heavy deadbolt on the front door, and they followed him in. Several chairs and a couple of tables filled the edges of the small lobby, right in front of the ancient elevator. The table up against the wall held a briefcase, right next to the brass lamp and stack of magazines. Gilgamesh opened the briefcase and counted the money, money that would go to Haiku, as this was a discounted training operation.
“You understand the rules?” Gilgamesh said to Haiku. “If you’re still here when we’re done, you get paid. Otherwise, nothing.” Haiku nodded.
“What do I do?” he said.
“Our goal is to make this place as clean as the day the Focus moved in. What we’re doing is removing the gristle dross. I know, not only can’t you use it, you can’t normally move it,” Gilgamesh said. “Let me show you how. It takes two Crows at a minimum.”
Gilgamesh started the show. Unlike normal dross, which a decent wind could almost blow away, gristle dross was glue, attaching itself to objects, the denser the better, and attracting normal dross, which would turn into gristle dross itself over time. The trick, which Sky learned immediately, and which took Haiku an hour to understand, was to have two Crows visualize their ability to move dross as a knife, stand on opposite ends of a gristle dross deposit, and cut toward each other. Once cut, they picked up the gristle dross and moved it out of the house.
Haiku grimaced at the foulness of the gristle dross when he first helped move the cut sludge, dropping his end. “Grab it like you mean it,” Gilgamesh said. “This isn’t bad. The Focus’s rooms will be much worse.” Haiku looked momentarily panicked. Gilgamesh smiled encouragement.
Haiku took a breath and then clenched his teeth as he grabbed the cut gristle dross. His face twisted and his eyes watered, but he didn’t let go. Gilgamesh nodded approval.
“You’ll make it. Keep going.”
By morning, the household was a cesspool. They had cut apart and moved all the gristle dross out into sunlit areas, where several days of sunshine would do its thing and degrade the dross into nothing. The cutting stirred up the rest of the dross, a heady mixture of regular and gristle dross that churned restlessly like some sort of rotting swamp, contaminating everything it touched. Gilgamesh felt foul and bloated with the poison of it. As a Crow, he lived off dross, and usually dross was good, but this dross was far past usable. They needed to clean the
“Gilgamesh, Sky,” he said politely, from twenty feet away. Gilgamesh and Sky nodded back, respectful of the younger Crow’s wariness.
“Any questions? Are you ready?” Gilgamesh asked.
“Are there any Focuses or Arms around?” Haiku asked.
“No, nobody here but us skanky Crows,” Sky said. Little runnels of sweat beaded along Haiku’s hairline, possibly from the heat, but more likely from tension. Haiku gave a quick nod. Sky indicated his vehicle, and Haiku nodded again. This time the motion was shaky.
Sky’s vehicle was a Volkswagen bus, one of Inferno’s many appalling rides. If you didn’t count the fact the engine, wheels and back door had been replaced, and the van repainted several times, this was the van Inferno used when they rescued Tiamat from the FBI all those years ago. Gilgamesh joined Sky in the front seat, and Haiku sat in the back while they made their careful way to North Reading. They parked in the alley behind Focus Francher’s currently deserted household, an old brownstone apartment building, three stories tall and black with gristle dross. They were the only car in the alley.
Sky used his key to open the heavy deadbolt on the front door, and they followed him in. Several chairs and a couple of tables filled the edges of the small lobby, right in front of the ancient elevator. The table up against the wall held a briefcase, right next to the brass lamp and stack of magazines. Gilgamesh opened the briefcase and counted the money, money that would go to Haiku, as this was a discounted training operation.
“You understand the rules?” Gilgamesh said to Haiku. “If you’re still here when we’re done, you get paid. Otherwise, nothing.” Haiku nodded.
“What do I do?” he said.
“Our goal is to make this place as clean as the day the Focus moved in. What we’re doing is removing the gristle dross. I know, not only can’t you use it, you can’t normally move it,” Gilgamesh said. “Let me show you how. It takes two Crows at a minimum.”
Gilgamesh started the show. Unlike normal dross, which a decent wind could almost blow away, gristle dross was glue, attaching itself to objects, the denser the better, and attracting normal dross, which would turn into gristle dross itself over time. The trick, which Sky learned immediately, and which took Haiku an hour to understand, was to have two Crows visualize their ability to move dross as a knife, stand on opposite ends of a gristle dross deposit, and cut toward each other. Once cut, they picked up the gristle dross and moved it out of the house.
Haiku grimaced at the foulness of the gristle dross when he first helped move the cut sludge, dropping his end. “Grab it like you mean it,” Gilgamesh said. “This isn’t bad. The Focus’s rooms will be much worse.” Haiku looked momentarily panicked. Gilgamesh smiled encouragement.
Haiku took a breath and then clenched his teeth as he grabbed the cut gristle dross. His face twisted and his eyes watered, but he didn’t let go. Gilgamesh nodded approval.
“You’ll make it. Keep going.”
By morning, the household was a cesspool. They had cut apart and moved all the gristle dross out into sunlit areas, where several days of sunshine would do its thing and degrade the dross into nothing. The cutting stirred up the rest of the dross, a heady mixture of regular and gristle dross that churned restlessly like some sort of rotting swamp, contaminating everything it touched. Gilgamesh felt foul and bloated with the poison of it. As a Crow, he lived off dross, and usually dross was good, but this dross was far past usable. They needed to clean the
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