Chapter Eleven

Farren escorted a somewhat shell-shocked Morrisey from the building. Strange how Farren already thought of the detective on a first-name basis.

Morrisey stumbled, nearly running into a parked truck once or twice. Poor guy. He’d had his entire worldview upended.

A well-traveled path for Farren. “Are you okay to drive?” What was the expression? Oh. Been there, done that.

Morrisey scowled over his shoulder. “Just try to stop me. I can’t escape this nightmare fast enough.” Despite his words, he sat in his RAV4 for at least twenty minutes before starting the engine.

Tumultuous emotions ran through Morrisey at a marathoner’s pace that Farren couldn’t read. Humans usually had to be taught in order to keep their thoughts private, as Leary had learned. Somehow, Morrisey’s inhuman perception seemed natural.

Farren waited until Morrisey left the complex, then reentered the building and rode the elevator down to a level restricted to only the highest security clearances.

Arianna glanced up from her desk, addressing Farren in English. “New recruit?”

“Possibly.” If the poor guy’s mind didn’t snap first. Farren would’ve had Morrisey stay longer to ensure he didn’t go into shock, but Leary called the shots. Maybe dismissing Morrisey had been a test of how well the detective could handle the bizarre, life-changing information so common within the task force.

“He’s cute, in a broken, probably needs an intervention kind of way,” Arianna commented offhandedly. “Sort of like the scruffy stray you bring in off the street and then hope they don’t bite you.”

High praise from a woman who took on boyfriends as projects. Farren’s mouth lifted on one side before he could stop himself. “A pretty accurate description.”

Arianna popped the gum she’d been chewing. “I can’t read him.”

Interesting, since Arianna came from a hierarchy geared toward public service and tended to be among the more perceptive team members. “Me either.” Really interesting since Farren’s very nature should have guaranteed a certain amount of instinctual knowledge about anyone he met, whether they were human or traveler.

”I suspect he”s not entirely human.” Arianna punctuated her verdict by popping another bubble. She returned to typing on her laptop, dismissing Farren without further discussion. Asking her to explain would get him nowhere. Like an oracle of old, she spoke, then expected him to puzzle out her meaning.

Unless in a chatty mood—then nothing could silence her.

Farren fully understood the sensation of being “not entirely human.” He’d met many travelers and humans. Morrisey didn’t appear to belong to either group. Farren returned to Leary’s office to find his boss staring at nothing, index fingers steepled against his lips.

Oh, no. Thinking face. Either Leary finally mastered napping with his eyes open, or more likely, this couldn’t be good.

Farren sat down anyway in a chair facing the desk to wait out Leary second-guessing himself. He’d come around. He always did.

“Am I making a mistake?” Leary finally asked, voice only slightly less loud than usual, his equivalent of a murmur. He wasn’t above asking for opinions, even if he seldom took anyone’s advice.

“My instincts tell me no, and I’ve been told I have pretty good instincts.” Farren’s impression of Morrisey becoming a good addition to the team really nagged at him. Morrisey had tangled with an occisor and came out the winner. Even without Farren’s timely arrival, chances were Morrisey would have survived only slightly battered. Tough old bastard.

There’s something about him… Darkness and light.

“You have good instincts,” Leary agreed. Really? Since when had this man ever thought highly of Farren’s skills? Or rather, voiced praise.

He bit back comments about the times Leary ignored those instincts, to disastrous results. “He can perceive travelers for what they are, to a certain degree.” Except for Leary and just a few others—very few—humans couldn”t tell a traveler from anyone else. He’d never met a human before with such skills as to actually see otherness. Not only did Morrisey sense something off, like Leary, but he’d also actually seen the differences, even if what he saw wasn’t entirely accurate. Arianna did indeed possess horizontally slitted irises in her other form, something Farren never saw as unusual until working with humans.

He continued. “Most people who see travelers in other forms see them merely as other. If they do see what they might call demon faces on human bodies, they aren’t likely to share the information.”

“All I notice when I see Arianna is a hazy aura. I’ve never seen her in another form or saw the goat eyes Morrisey mentioned.” Leary gave a wry smile.

“Very few can.” Even those from Farren’s former realm could rarely see below the surface to what lurked underneath. Morrisey said Arianna glowed and had horizontally slitted eyes. While Terran creatures with similar eyes were usually prey, Arianna was more of a predator.

“I know. But there’s a spookiness about him.” Leary exaggerated a shiver.

“Darkness, maybe?” Odd how even a human sensed the dark living inside Morrisey.

Leary snapped his fingers. “Yeah. There’s this whole gloom and doom thing going on. I can’t get a read on him.”

“Neither can I.” No need to bring Arianna’s impressions in at this point. “But if the two of us can’t, I doubt any travelers would be able to, either.” Farren paused, allowing Leary time to consider the words. “I’m pretty damned good at spotting auras.” He wasn’t bragging. Being part of law enforcement for two separate realms had taught him valuable lessons.

“Good point.” Leary resumed staring at nothing. “I’m all for a trial run. We’ve lost too many team members lately, ever since portals started opening willy-nilly around the city.”

Willy-nilly?

Leary said, “I’m partnering him with you for the time being. I trust you to keep him out of trouble and inform me of his progress.” With a little less confidence, he added, ”If he accepts the offer.”

“He will.” Without a doubt. Besides the darkness, Farren sensed great loneliness and a desire for a place to belong, though Morrisey probably didn’t know or wouldn’t acknowledge the lack of meaningful interaction in his life. “You know, just like the people of the other realms have gifts, I believe some humans do as well, which is how you came to know of travelers. You’re far more astute than most.” Flattering the boss never hurt.

Leary released a bemused snort. “Nope. Wrong place, wrong time, just drunk enough to believe the crazy ass shit my eyes showed me.”

“Even if you didn’t recognize a conjuring, you stopped something sinister from crossing over and put an end to a summoner. Huge accomplishment.” Leary surviving his encounter said a great deal about his resilience—or his being too stubborn to run. Farren inwardly cringed, recalling stories of the threat nearly unleashed on this world, stopped because Leary didn’t run.

Leary rolled his shoulder in a half-shrug, half-stretch, then extended his neck from side to side. “Like I said, wrong place, wrong time.”

“Maybe, but how often had the task force discovered a body near an abandoned portal, likely because someone saw what they weren’t supposed to and were silenced? And how many times had there been expectation of a witness, but no body? Just because people didn’t come forward didn’t mean they hadn’t witnessed something odd.”

“Okay. Keep your eyes open, Austen. I don’t want the sonofabitch occisor coming back for him.”

Occisors tended to hold grudges. But they also usually had someone else holding their leashes. “Don’t worry. I’ve got his back.”

“I know you do. Now go on. Go away. Don’t you have work to do?” Leary waved his hand in a shooing motion.

“I do.” Farren returned to his office, a shining symbol embedded in the door human eyes rarely noticed but which announced Farren’s territory. He spent the afternoon devising Morrisey’s training plan. Did Leary have to start him in the field soon? The empty office between Farren’s and Leary’s would do as a workspace. For the time being. Given the volume of some of Leary’s more energetic conversations, anyone assigned the space left at the first opportunity.

Prescott hadn’t occupied the office long. Before Prescott, Williams. Before Williams, Adams. All humans who couldn”t handle being on the task force. Two didn’t take the job seriously, paying the price. Adams returned to Atlanta PD, unable to withstand the pressure of the job.

Maybe Morrisey would prove to be made of sterner stuff. Even those three hadn’t been able to see travelers to the degree Morrisey did.

Two small apartments on Farren’s residence floor were empty. They needed airing but should be sufficient to house a recruit for training. Given the complexity of their assignments, best to keep an eye on all prospects until certain they coped sufficiently, which might have spared Prescott a horrible fate. I hope Morrisey likes gray. Some travelers couldn”t see colors, like a recent addition to the team. The drabness of the office never seemed to bother him.

Farren needed color, light, and sound. His apartment lacked all three, though he made up for the lack with a coat of paint, larger wattage light bulbs, and lots of speakers. He loved instrumentals, mostly falling into the new age category.

MMs served as lunch. The human method of feeding added so much variety. Back home, energy was energy was energy. Some, resembling what humans called incubi and succubi, claimed feedings varied depending on the strength of the emotion they fed upon, something Farren had never experienced since his work contract stated clearly no feeding from humans.

He relaxed like he had countless times before, opening himself to the atmosphere yet again in hopes something had changed. Back home, he’d pull in nourishment from the very air around him. Nothing. Not the first inkling of energy. Yet his power had only increased, not diminished.

He wasn’t home. And he’d grown to love the variety of human foods. Particularly MMs. And especially the green ones. They tasted better. How ironic it would be if they enhanced his abilities.

Arianna poked her head through the door. “Farren. It’s five o’clock, and you came in early. You should go home.”

Go home. As if Farren could. ”I”ll be leaving soon,” he assured her.

“Suit yourself.” She secured the oversized bag slung over one arm more securely, then turned on her heel, tossing, “I’ll be in the cafeteria at six if you want company,” over one shoulder.

The cafeteria. While human eating styles offered variety, the cafeteria did not. Maybe Farren would order out for pizza or get industrious and cook in his apartment.

All the task force’s travelers lived within the complex—a glorified prison in Farren’s mind—as did a few human members. Someone must have thought this arrangement safer long ago, plus, easier to send someone out at a moment’s notice.

As the good people of the state of Georgia often said, If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Besides, some of the newer travelers still wrestled with the urge to consume human emotions rather than a Big Mac and fries.

No wonder they were labeled as demons by humans.

Farren took the stairs to the lowest level instead of the elevator. Cool air raised bumps on his arms as the hair stood on end. He scanned his badge to open the door. Only a small group of people could enter this room or even knew of its existence.

A Nutrix nurse in scrubs gave him a brief smile in passing before scurrying off to attend her charges. Only two right now, a man and a woman. Both bodies were physically fine, or at least, were now.

The possessed body from the alley should’ve been brought here. It wasn’t every day a human consciousness remained in their body after possession. He must’ve had a strong will to live. Maybe Farren or a Nutrix could have helped him.

Life support kept the two patients breathing and their blood circulating until the task force higher-ups decided what to do with them.

Leary hadn’t been the only one to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The bodies travelers assumed might age slower than a normal human, but eventually, they grew old and died.

Somewhere out in the city, black market suppliers provided wealthy travelers with a chance at near-eternal life by inhabiting a young man or woman”s body. Entire businesses had sprung up to arrange for “grandchildren” to inherit before another possessed man or woman left a used-up body behind. Some travelers who”d lived in the Terran realm long enough needed a second or maybe a third host.

Though wealth couldn’t cross realms, there were other ways to accumulate riches.

Here, the traveler couple chose their hosts’ actual granddaughter and her husband. Farren could never do that to anyone, let alone his own flesh and blood. Or his body’s, rather.

The team hadn’t gotten to the unfortunate young couple early enough to find out their side of things, but Grandma put on a convincing performance of making the granddaughter her sole heir and introducing her to lawyers, friends, etcetera.

The unfortunate girl must’ve thought Grandma loved her and, head spinning from a sudden change in fortunes, didn’t ask too many questions.

Other victims were poor and probably lured with cash. Sometimes, the dealer just told them he could make their dreams come true. Other people agreed to possession because they called it bullshit and easy money, or maybe they thought they’d share a body, not get forced out.

Whatever the case, these two people had been robbed of their chance to live. If a traveler team member became seriously injured, they might make use of the bodies once they passed a few ethical hurdles. Most already occupied their current bodies when they’d joined the team.

Per the Terra-Domus agreement, claiming a body was only sanctioned if it was impossible to preserve the original life inside. Even now, the bodies behind the glass were shutting down organs. Soon they’d be beyond use.

There the couple lay; victims of the law being broken. Souls gone. Young lives over. The elderly couple and the dealer who’d intended to help with the transference were now banished to oblivion. Five lives lost. For what? More time?

So, so many lives lost.

Farren’s heart broke for each one.

Despite the tragic end, some travelers still took the chance at near immortality. A prospect the task force called job security.

Farren would rather be out of a job.

Arianna was nowhere in sight, and the staff had dismantled the steam tables by the time Farren reached the cafeteria. A kindly Servus warmed a bowl of stew and prepared a sandwich, which Farren took to his apartment.

His rooms were small but still larger in diameter than his living quarters back home, although lower-ceilinged. The ability to float meant no vertical space went to waste. Farren missed the windows, though, where he could sit and watch purple waves rolling in from the sea. He’d been to the ocean once since crossing over. Blue and white surf. Not the same.

Oh, to stretch his wings, let a breeze lift him, allow air currents to carry him along.

Farren sat on his couch, placing his meal on the coffee table. The fully stocked kitchen adjoined the living room, separated by a bar and two stools. The living room area held a brown leather couch, a matching chair, a contrasting recliner, a coffee table, matching end tables, a wall-mounted TV, and a plastic plant in the corner.

With no knowledge of how to decorate a human apartment, upon joining the team, he’d taken his moving allowance to a local furniture store and bought the display. No fuss, no muss, minimal decisions. And no visiting IKEA. Just trying to pronounce some of those names almost convinced him he was secretly summoning a traveler.

His quarters were surprisingly comfortable for what some would call crapshoot decorating.

He”d even bought an ugly metal wall sculpture, spending idle moments trying to make sense of the random shapes cobbled together. A giraffe? A condemned building? A hubcap run over by a train?

The stew scent temporarily chased back the dragon’s blood incense permeating the rooms. The scent reminded him of home. Throw pillows and a crocheted blanket in shades of purple were Arianna’s contributions. Purple, “To remind you of home.” She’d even bought Farren a fluffy purple dinosaur popular with children, calling the toy a gag gift.

Farren had furnished his bedroom by the same method, though sleeping while lying down required practice. Most nights he spent in a hammock, which more closely resembled his previous method of rest.

While he ate, his mind once more turned to his new prospective partner. Farren usually trained rookies but never received a permanent partner.

Tenebris.A darkness to Farren’s light. Dark followed light, light followed dark.

Morrisey James. No family to speak of. Adopted as an infant, raised by an older couple who’d died before Morrisey reached twenty.

Nevertheless, a hint of mystery clung to him.

What secrets are you hiding, Morrisey James?

And do I want to know?