The Shadow Fixer Read online

  “Don’t count on it,” wheezed Dorian—right before he vanished.

  The child gasped in surprise at losing her shield. Before she could even attempt a pitiful, pleading stare, Kirsten swung the lash, bright and thick, empowered by the emotional spike of seeing her monstrous mother. Screaming, Lily tried to leap out of the way, but the lash caught her in the side, giving off a pulse of light and resonant boom on impact. The hit threw the false child off her feet, sending her flying. The child landed about twenty feet away down the corridor, tumbling over herself a few times before sliding to a stop and deflating into a melted puddle. Dark goop, formerly hair, mixed into a pool of white muck from the disintegrating nightgown. Squiggles of light brown where hands, face, and feet used to be blended into an ooze expanding over the carpet.

  “I’m going to be seeing ‘melting child’ in my nightmares for the next few months.” She sighed. “Thanks for that.”

  The temperature dropped twenty degrees.

  Two clouds of black smoke emerged from the walls behind Kirsten, one on either side, coalescing into the vaguely humanoid shapes of Harbingers—a billow of darkness with a head and two arms. Their sparkling silvery eyes fixed on her, giving off a sense of ‘why did you call us?’

  She swallowed saliva. They radiated dread, though it didn’t feel directed at her. After being around them fairly often, she’d somewhat become accustomed to their presence, but still worried about doing something stupid in front of them. To be fair, she felt the same way when standing before the Division 0 Command Council, but there, she blamed her subconscious fear of authority figures. Mother had a short temper.

  Kirsten gave off a sense of gratitude for answering her request. Both Harbingers bowed their vaporous black heads in acknowledgement. She gestured at the puddle as if to ask them if the ghostly ‘child’ spirit bore enough of a dark stain to be worthy of their interest. Again, the Harbingers nodded in unison, but made no move to do anything.

  Crap. She’s not done. Kirsten faced the puddle again. Playing possum.

  As soon as she started walking closer, raising the lash, the puddle burst upward, gathering into a hideous amalgamation of praying mantis and human female. Though it had mostly human arms, back-curved spikes sprouted from wrist to elbow. Its wide-faced head bore two bulging compound eyes, aglow in dark crimson light.

  Free of any guilt at striking an innocent child, Kirsten charged.

  Screeching, the fiend opened its mandibles, spewing fiery liquid in a stream. Kirsten fell into a slide, going under the inferno spray and walloping the beast in the chest. The energy whip sliced into the entity, leaving a glowing crack in its chitinous shell. Kirsten scrambled past the hairy insect legs and got back to her feet. The creature toppled forward, crashing to the floor. It shrank from insectoid to fully human, taking on the appearance of a tall, slender woman in her later thirties, cut in half at the torso.

  The creature struggled to pull herself together—literally.

  Both Harbingers rushed forward, each one seizing half the spirit before dragging it down into the floor. A series of bangs, screams, and zapping noises grew progressively quieter. Division 0 would no doubt soon receive more calls about electronics randomly exploding, dying, or temporarily shutting off.

  Kirsten exhaled, relieved. “Dorian?”

  He didn’t answer. Of course, he didn’t like Harbingers, so might have kept his distance. How he abruptly disappeared out of Lily’s grip looked like the way ghosts could always instantly return to their mortal remains. Dorian’s actual remains sat in an urn at a mausoleum sixty or so miles away from the PAC. He might be able to use the same trick to get back to the patrol craft, but he should have returned already if he’d only gone to the roof.

  “Sergeant Peters?” asked Kirsten.

  “Copy, Lieutenant Wren. Proceed.”

  “The entity is gone. Area is secure. Division 1 can come inside now.”

  “Understood. On our way. Yeah, uhh, now that you mention it, the whole feeling in the air is different.”

  Kirsten released the lash, the energy cord dissipating as soon as she ceased concentrating on it. She trudged down the hall to Melanie’s apartment. The woman still lay on the floor by the couch. Three stimpaks had been enough to seal her wounds but wouldn’t have fixed internal damage from the deep stabbing injuries. Kirsten scanned her PID, attaching her record to the call for medical aid.

  “Dispatch, if we don’t already have medtechs on site already, send a van.”

  “They’re on the roof, lieutenant,” replied the voice of a young teen, likely an Admin cadet.

  Shimmering light in the corner of the room caught her eye. Kirsten glanced over at a small table holding several holo-bars displaying photographs. Most contained only an intense light smear, like on Officer Greene’s helmet video. Some showed a smiling Melanie Avila standing next to the glowing swath, her arm around it as if holding her daughter.

  Each holo-bar cycled among numerous photos, not one containing an image of an actual girl, only the glowing patch.

  “Not real,” whispered Kirsten.

  “What’s that?” Dorian walked up behind her.

  She spun, staring at him. “You’re okay!”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Took you too long to get back here. Worried me.”

  He put on an expression of fake innocence. “Gave Bob and Ray a wide berth.”

  “Bob and Ray?” She blinked. “Oh… Harbingers.”

  Dorian wagged his eyebrows.

  “Relax. They’re not interested in you anymore.” Kirsten pointed at the holo-bars. “Look at the photos. I think Lily—whatever she is—tricked this woman into believing she had a daughter. Must have been here for a long time.”

  “What the heck for?” Dorian looked around at the apartment. “Though it does explain how the kid’s room was so neat.”

  “Poor woman.” Kirsten hurried over to check on her again. “She’s not going to believe her ‘daughter’ never existed.”

  “Depends on how deep it got into her head.”

  Satisfied the woman remained alive, Kirsten accessed her armband terminal and pulled up the citizen record for Melanie Avilla. Sure enough, she had no legal dependents. No record of her ever having a child at all.

  “Some psychiatrist is going to finance their next car from this woman.” Dorian shook his head. “Would be cheaper to get one of those fake kid dolls and make it look like the ghost so she can keep on pretending.”

  Kirsten shivered, unsure what bothered her more between the idea of false children and an abyssal impersonating one. The world had so many orphans, buying artificial kids seemed wrong. But then again, some people shouldn’t be trusted to take care of actual children. Nothing in Melanie’s file raised any alarms.

  “I guess,” whispered Kirsten. “No idea if this woman even wanted a kid, or the abyssal took over her mind.”

  Medtechs rushed into the room along with Division 1 patrol officers. Kirsten stepped back to let them treat Melanie.

  Dorian moved to stand beside her, watching the medics work. “I suspect she wanted a child quite badly. Creatures like this need some weakness to pick at. It most likely got into her head and made her obsessive. Wonder what set it off on the killing spree?”

  “If I had to guess, Melanie started to doubt. Or someone who knew her told her she didn’t really have a child. Something. Who knows? Maybe the spirit simply got bored with her. It’s not like anything they do is required to make logical sense.”

  Dorian chuckled. “Are you talking about abyssals, ghosts, or children?”

  “All of the above, but if Lily had anything human about her, she was a grown woman. Got a glimpse of her right before the Harbingers pounced. Bet she enjoyed tormenting people.” Kirsten sighed at the holo-bars. “Why do some people enjoy hurting others?”

  “No idea.” Dorian shrugged. “Fortunately, the majority of those who enjoy torture end up managing boy bands or working for health insurance companies.
Clawing one’s way back into the world from the Abyss is a bit more work than the average psycho is willing to undertake.”

  Kirsten accessed her armband terminal to create the Inquest record and subsequent reports she’d have to fill out. “Speaking of torture…”

  “You okay?” Dorian leaned close. “Seem a little somber. Wasn’t a real kid.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Kirsten pictured Lily staring up at her from the bedroom floor. “I almost fell for it. She almost got me.”

  Dorian smiled. “She didn’t. You’re not as easy to fool as you think.”

  “Maybe.” Kirsten frowned at the terminal screen. I’ll fill in the basics and do the rest later. Too upset to deal with reports now.

  2

  Future Stuff

  A working Comforgel bed still made Kirsten feel like she’d snuck into someone else’s apartment.

  The bed didn’t need to work too hard in April, the weather being relatively mild. The first time it went into cooling mode and turned pale blue, she almost panicked until she remembered they had more colors than ‘Hades orange,’ a surprising demonstration of how much the one in her first apartment bothered her. Obviously, the Division 0 dorms had working Comforgel pads. Her childhood bedroom even had a working one, though after age six, she spent more nights asleep on a closet floor.

  She lay there, more or less awake, gazing at the ceiling. Her bedroom’s windows—basically the entire wall to her left—tinted out the early morning sun, rendering the world outside in brownish tones. Constant thrumming, the ion thrusters of endless hovercars passing by ten stories up, occasionally drowned out the myriad of advertising jingles.

  Who the heck are those bots trying to sell to close enough to hear on the forty-first floor?

  By no means extravagant, this place still easily doubled the size of her old home. For some stupid, prideful reason, she’d insisted on getting her own living quarters as soon as she turned eighteen. It would’ve been far cheaper to remain at the dorms, an option for her since she’d grown up there.

  Division 0 didn’t have barracks like Division 6, so normal Tactical or Investigative Operations people couldn’t opt to live at the PAC. Even the dorms would’ve given Kirsten the boot at twenty-one. Still, it would’ve been four more years not having to pay rent or buy food. Division 6 troops required barracks since they rotated in and out from active military duty. The line between police and military was thin to begin with, but Division 6 didn’t have one.

  Any member of the National Police Force, except for Division 6, could resign at will. The worst punishment they’d face for things like refusing an order would be getting fired. Unlike the ‘proper’ military, where even giving the finger to the wrong officer could land a person in jail for a while.

  I don’t usually wake up before the alarm. What am I worrying about this time?

  Except for having to confront an abyssal, yesterday hadn’t been too bad. The mental aftereffect bothered her more than the actual confrontation. She couldn’t stop thinking about Melanie Avilla’s heartbroken expression when told her daughter never existed. As part of her investigation, Kirsten delved as deeply as she could into the woman’s memories to determine the extent to which she’d been a victim of paranormal attack. Her suspicions proved true. The woman had a deep-seated craving to be a mother, but never found a man she trusted enough. She lacked the money for adoption or going to a place like FamilyPerfect where they’d make a child using her DNA and some random synthesized DNA based on her preferences.

  Lily—or whatever her true name was—approached her in the parking area where she worked five months ago. Within minutes of looking at the girl, Melanie believed she had a daughter and became obsessively devoted to her. Apparently, other people saw the kid, believing her as ordinary as any other child. Until yesterday’s meltdown, the abyssal appeared content to simply be doted on, though didn’t attend any manner of school.

  As far as Kirsten, Captain Eze, or anyone in ‘the lab’ could guess, the abyssal’s motive had likely been feeding off psychic energy while gradually driving Melanie insane. The woman’s memories contained zero clues as to what potentially set ‘Lily’ off on a murderous rampage. She only remembered the fake child calmly walking up to her, saying, “I’m done here” in an adult woman’s voice, and stabbing her in the stomach.

  Unfortunately, Kirsten lacked the telepathic power necessary to fix the damage. Melanie continued believing her beloved daughter had been possessed. She seemed incapable of rationalizing the girl had never been real. Fearing the woman would try to kill herself if told ‘Lily’ was gone, Kirsten lied to buy time, claiming the girl had run off and the police were attempting to locate her.

  Commander Ashford had likely cleaned up her head by now.

  It surprised Kirsten she didn’t cling to Evan all night… only for a few hours.

  At least the woman’s not going to spend the rest of her life pining for a daughter who never existed. Kirsten sat up, hit the button on the alarm to keep it from going off, then got out of bed nine minutes early. Not enough time to try grabbing a little more sleep. She stretched, then headed for the attached bathroom. Her old apartment only had one bathroom. Considering how tiny the place was, it might as well have been attached to the bedroom since only five steps separated the end of her bed from the bathroom door.

  Kirsten slipped out of her night shirt, tossed it on the sink, then stepped into the autoshower tube. Sensing her presence, the holographic control screen appeared, displaying various settings and virtual control knobs. She stuck her finger through the preset-one button for a normal morning. The screen played a chime as a text box opened, displaying a notification a firmware update was available.

  Whatever…

  She poked the ‘download’ button.

  The prompt vanished and the shower whirred to life.

  Kirsten stood still, eyes closed, basking in the spray of warm, soapy water from a descending ring of spray jets. This tube—unlike the cheap one in her old apartment—could sense longer hair and spent a little more time applying the scalp-scrubbing water pulse. She ran her hands through her hair after the spray ring went down below her waist. When it reached the floor, she raised her feet one after the other to let the spray wash her soles. Soon, the machine started a rinse pass, then the high-powered hot air cyclone dried her off. The whole process took a little over eight minutes. While the whine of electric fans faded to silence, Kirsten stepped out of the tube, grabbed a clean pair of undies from the machine on the wall, and pulled them on.

  Her bedroom windows automatically de-tinted in response to her being awake, allowing in more natural sunlight. Their large size made her feel like a mannequin in a store window, but at least she lived on a floor away from the hovercar lanes. People on the fiftieth, plus or minus one story, had to deal with cars passing right by their bedrooms. They probably set their windows as dark as possible all the time.

  She hurried into her uniform top and leggings, leaving boots, belt, and arm guard for later.

  Evan streaked across the hall from his bedroom to the other bathroom as she emerged from her bedroom. “Morning!”

  “Morning,” chimed Kirsten back.

  The autoshower in the hall bathroom whirred to life.

  Since she woke up early, Kirsten ’semmed toast and whipped up jalapeño eggs with cheese, cheating by making one giant omelet and slicing it in half. Evan rushed into the kitchen within seconds of her setting the plates on the table. He hung his backpack on the chair, sat, and sniffed.

  “This smells like ouch.”

  “No spicier than last time.” Kirsten winked at him.

  He grinned, then proceeded to attack the food like he’d never eaten before.

  Though the doctors called him healthy, Kirsten still worried he remained too skinny. The medics said his Accelerated Healing ability amped up his metabolism, but he no longer lived with an unstable asshole who beat the hell out of him almost daily, so his body didn’t need to continuously repair i
tself. It shouldn’t be burning so much energy.

  Suppose I shouldn’t panic if the medtechs are okay with his weight. At least he doesn’t look starved anymore, just skinny.

  “Mom, when you were in school, did the other kids keep asking you to talk to ghosts?”

  Kirsten shook her head. “Not really. Kids didn’t really talk to me much.”

  “Aww. That’s sad. How come?”

  “Some did.” She looked up from her plate, smiling at him. “Everyone knew I had a really awful mother who mistreated me. My first couple months at the dorm, I was afraid of just about everything. Had no idea how to deal with other children. I’d spent two years living with ghosts under the city. A handful of kids, mostly empaths, treated me like an injured kitten they needed to take care of.”

  Evan laughed.

  She smirked, but also chuckled. “A few years later, it went around that Mind Blast came up on my screening. Once they heard, people mostly avoided me… except for Nicole. Still haven’t figured out if she genuinely likes me or if she merely lacks any sense of self-preservation.”

  “Ugh.” Evan rolled his eyes. “People are stupid. Having a power doesn’t make someone dangerous. Having a dangerous power and being a butthead makes someone dangerous. An’ you’re not a butthead.”

  “Hah. Thanks.”

  “Seriously, you’re not.” He stabbed a bit of omelet on his fork, grinning. “I’m not just saying it to make you feel better.”

  “Easy then.” Kirsten traced her hand in the air as if writing. “I’ll tell Captain Eze to put ‘not a butthead’ on my next psych evaluation.”

  Evan almost choked on eggs trying to laugh. Tears streamed from his eyes. “Hot pepper… nose…”

  “Ack.” She raced around the table to check on him.

  Still coughing, he gave a thumbs-up.

  “Drink some water… and sorry for making you laugh while you’re eating.”

  “It’s okay,” rasped Evan, before grabbing the glass and drinking. “And Nicole really likes you.”