AM 7: Durance, chapter 17 (Patreon)

Darren perched on the edge of Milton’s desk. “I could help you,” he offered. Milton’s setup was more like a computer repair shop with bits of technology wired together than any Talent-based setup. When Coretta used crystals with her computer, she had a velvet-lined tray where she carefully aligned crystals before directing the magic in the stones to augment her computer work. Milton had hardwired tiny crystals all through the guts of the disassembled computer. The only large crystals were plugged into receptacles between the hard drives. It was as if a crystal shop and a computer place had blown up and all the pieces got intermixed.

Milton snorted. “Unless you know programming language, no you can’t. And I doubt you can even find a header code in html.”

“Should I be offended?” Darren looked over toward Les, but he was avoiding eye contract. Darren had no idea if Les was still freaked out about the durance making their grand appearance or if he didn’t like Milton. Milton was abrasive, but Darren liked his honesty. Either that or Darren was channeling Kavon. Kavon had disliked the man at first, but the longer he knew Milton, the more he respected him.

Milton didn’t look up from him computer. “Only if you have hidden skills in Java or Python.”

Considering those sounded like names for coffee and snakes, Darren kept his mouth shut. He was saved from the conversation when Kavon strode into the office. He kept right on going toward the back, projecting weariness and relief and anxiety all at once. On the rare occasion when Kavon left the bond totally open, Darren wondered how he handled all the emotions that typically roiled under the surface. 

Darren followed Kavon to the breakroom and then watched as Kavon poured a cup of coffee before idly stirring it. “You told White,” Darren said softly. That was the only explanation for the odd mix of emotions he’d felt through the bond earlier.

Kavon nodded.

“How did he take it?”

He looked up from his coffee. “Better than I thought he would. He’s acting like this is just one more threat.”

If that was true, Darren had overestimated White’s intelligence. This battle might not be the Apocalypse, but it was an apocalypse. Then again, White was mundane. He didn’t have supernatural creatures threatening to wipe him out, and if Darren was honest, he was far more afraid of Pochi and his solutions than Anzu and his quest for power. Here would always be assholes trying to set themselves up as almighty warlords, whether they used magic or automatic assault rifles as their power base. However, ripping all the magic out of the world sounded terrifying and final.

“How much did you tell him?” Darren asked.

Kavon hesitated, drank some coffee and then answered. “All of it.”

Darren blew out a breath. That was unexpected. A shadow of doubt and defensive anger seeped into the bond. Darren crossed the room and rested his hand on Kavon’s arm. “I know we had to share. This is the world in danger, and he needs the information if he’s going to make the right calls.”

While Kavon’s expression didn’t change, the bond settled. “He pulled team three off the case, so I got us out of doing that interview.”

Relief washed through Darren. He didn’t want to lie to fellow FBI agents, but he knew how much anti-Talent sentiment existed in the agency. Hell, he’d gotten a spot on a field team because he’d reported his supervisors for malfeasance while he’d been a probationary agent. If Kavon hadn’t saved Darren from that clusterfuck, Darren’s career would have ended before it began. “Who is investigating?” It wasn’t like an Assistant Director could just call off a criminal investigation on a whim, especially when the attack was frontline news.

“He handed it over to the Djedi center on the grounds that the FBI has no facilities to contain the magical spill or handle the sort of criminal who could create it.

Darren frowned. “Won’t that make people paranoid about Talent? If Joe Schmo on the street thinks the FBI is incapable of containing a shaman, that will play into the anti-Talent propaganda.”

“Yes,” Kavon said, “it will. It will also make people realize that law enforcement is badly understaffed. White plans to point out that I am the only high-level shaman in the agency, and since the conflict of interest rules me out as an investigator, the agency is left with no one with the required skills.”

Darren blew out a long breath. White was making political hay while the shit-storm sun was shining. Damn. That was mercenary. Smart, but mercenary. “What about Joe? He’s a shaman.”

“He hasn’t been on the team a full month yet. White wouldn’t make him lead on a plagiarism case out of Georgetown.”

The door opened and Jen stuck her head in. “We have a problem.”

Those words sent a frisson of fear up Darren’s spine. He couldn’t handle many more problems before his brain exploded from the stress. Kavon gulped his coffee before asking, “What’s wrong?”

“A low-level thug with Talent has been offering to recharge magic artifacts for users. He’s done it for years. He’s a shaman.”

Kavon stood a little straighter, and Jen’s voice grew quieter and she developed the slightest studder. “I’ve known some of his clients for years. In the past it’s been harder to find energy for spells, but I never went to him directly.” Jen’s gaze locked firmly on Kavon, but all her other body language screamed nervousness. Kavon had a bad habit of putting people on edge.

Darren slid forward, physically inserting himself between them. “Has something changed?” he asked.

Jen cleared her throat. “One of the guys I know, he said Green is now offering deep discounts, and he’s willing to sell power to anyone. He always had to limit himself in the past. Whatever his shamanic guide is, there was a limit to how much power it could put out. No more.”

Darren frowned. If Green was a shaman, he couldn’t be stealing magic from their crime scene. Shamans couldn’t manipulate dead magic. Darren looked over his shoulder toward Kavon. “He found the shamanic source of power,” Kavon said softly.

“He must have,” Jen said. “And he’s charging up half the DC magic users, including some guys who shouldn’t have access to that sort of power.”

Kavon’s emotions vanished under the focused determination that was his work mode. “I’ll call legal for the warrant. Jen, I need your informant’s name and credentials. Darren, get the rest of the team.”

“Um,” Jen cleared her throat again when Kavon sent her a cold glare for interrupting. This is why they had so much trouble keeping probies. Darren planted an elbow in Kavon’s side, and the corner of Jen’s mouth twitched upward. Even better, she found her voice. “Coretta headed to the scene to coordinate FBI and Djedi cleanup efforts, Rima took Joe to go talk to some informant, and Anne’s at lunch.”

“So, the whole team is Ahtisham and Les,” Kavon said dryly.

“No offense,” Darren added quickly. Jen didn’t deserve to get dismissed. “We know you and Milton are good agents, but this is not the sort of situation for a probationary agent.”

“It’s okay,” Jen said softly. “I’ll go get the paperwork for my informant.” She practically fled the room.

As soon as she was gone, Kavon headed for the door, no doubt to get his own paperwork started for the warrant. “Tone it down,” Darren said.

“I don’t have time to hold hands,” Kavon practically growled. Some days Darren was amazed Kavon’s spirit guide wasn’t a bear. Then he looked at the statistics for the number of people killed by Cape buffalos, and it all made sense.

Darren kept his voice low enough that only Kavon would hear him. “No, but you don’t have to push her off a cliff, either.”

A thread hint of guilt stained the bond, but Kavon silently strode toward his desk, but anxiety and worry and protectiveness overshadowed it.

Les shot to his feet when Kavon stormed past him. “What’s up?”

“Jen has a lead on a shaman who is suddenly selling a lot of power-ups at discounted rates,” Darren explained.

“I’m busy with this,” Milton said loudly. On one hand, it was nice to know his situational awareness was better than it looked. He hunched over his computer with the intensity of a man who wouldn’t notice an apocalypse or two. On the other, Darren was starting to dislike how much Milton avoided the team. He’d worry more only Kavon perversely liked the guy. Of course, even Kavon admitted he was going to be a disaster at interviewing.

Les rolled his eyes. “If this is the same case, we should let the Djedi investigators handle it. White just sent down official word that the FBI is off the case, and the rumbles have started.” Les gave an exaggerated grimace. “There is nothing like challenging a man’s potency to make him want to pull out a ruler and start measuring dicks.”

“Whose dick are we talking about?” Darren asked softly.

Les leaned closer and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “The whole FBI. Oh man, the gossip train is already starting down that track.”

Les rarely wandered the building, and the Talent team was in an isolated corner, so he didn’t run into people at the coffee pot. Yet he always had the good gossip. Darren wondered if Les had send his wasp out to eavesdrop. “What are people saying?”

Les leaned closer. “Right now, it’s ranging from good riddance to one more case with the ‘abnormals’ to anger at the suggestion we’re not good enough to handle the investigation, and the second is much more common.”

“What sample size are you working with to make that conclusion?” Darren asked.

Les held his hands up and started to back away. “Bruh, I have no clue what you’re even asking about. Nope. No clue.”

Darren might have followed up, but Kavon moved. “Ahtisham, Les, with us. Jen, call Coretta and give her the address you filed on your paperwork. Tell her to meet us there because we need a magic user.”

Jen opened her mouth as if to point out that she was a magic user, but then she gave a soft, “Yes, sir.”

“You’re going to hell for bullying her,” Darren said softly while the others retrieved their weapons. Even in the building Darren had taken to carrying his. Kavon’s paranoia was contagious. And reasonable. Anzu was fairly terrifying, and if Darren could find his human partner, Darren would happily shoot the bastard in the face. Well, after giving him fair warning and attempting to arrest him first, but normally Darren was far more ambivalent about the use of deadly force. In this case, he approved.

“Enough,” Kavon growled as he headed toward the stairs so fast that Ahtisham had to do a little hop on his good leg to catch his balance. First Jen and now Kavon was rushing the guy with one leg. This felt like the old Kavon—the one who had pushed Darren away and undermined the whole team because he didn’t know how to handle an aborted relationship. Those had not been good days, and Darren would rather not revisit the ghost of Kavon past.

The ride downtown was silent, even Les seemed at a loss for words. Darren watched his phone for updates from legal on their warrant. If this new shaman was working with Anzu, he wasn't likely to cooperate out of a sense of social justice. The research that Selma had sent them was fairly terrifying. Anzu had gathered a group of ifrit and had claimed a large territory in Europe. By supercharging certain humans, he created a kingdom. He hadn't actually ruled himself, but he had set his shamans up as some of the earliest warlords and kings, and the bloodshed had been horrific.

According to Selma, Anzu and his group were one of the largest reasons why the durance had decided that they had to eliminate the magical corruption from Earth.

Darren tended to take offense at being called a corruption, but Selma was weirdly accepting of the idea that her Talent somehow made her unclean or inhuman. Some days Darren worried about that woman. 

“Did the warrant come through yet?” Kavon asked

“Not yet.”

“Text them.” Kavon braked harder than necessary for a red light.

Darren mimed texting legal, but he wasn't going to nag. They had pretty thin cause for wanting a search warrant, so if Legal did manage to pull this off, Darren would send them a fruit basket. He wasn't going to suggest they do the impossible faster. Luckily, judges tended to be a little more lenient with probable cause when somebody had recently blown up parts of DC.

“What can I expect from the enemy?” Ahtisham asked.

“If things go sideways, get Darren and get out of the area,” Kavon ordered. Darren fumbled with his phone.

“Hey! I'm a trained and armed federal agent. I'm not going to get dragged off like a civilian if our bad guy shows up.” Darren had thought they’d settled the issue of Kavon’s insane overprotectiveness, but apparently not. Apparently when apocalyptic monsters wandered free, Kavon went right back to being a bear with a sore paw. 

“Yes you are,” Kavon said in a low voice.

Les said loudly, “Don't you hate it when Mom and Dad fight?” He nudged Ahtisham, but the man had the good sense to not answer.

Kavon ignored the antics in the back seat. “You were nearly killed in the last encounter. I'm not taking that risk again.”

“Again, I'm an armed federal agent,” Darren said. “And I have the strongest shamanic guide. I'm not leaving the scene. Furthermore, if Anzu decides to target me, he’ll just follow. I would rather fight with the group.

Ahtisham cleared this throat loudly. “If there is an attack, should I target the guide or the human?”

“A gun won't do anything against a guide,” Kavon said. He changed lanes with all the finesse of an extra from the Mad Max movies.

“Which is not actually an answer to my question,” Ahtisham said. “Do you want me to look for human targets who are taking too much of an interest in the fight, and if so, how do I determine which of the Lookie Lous is the shaman I need to shoot in the head?”

“I should be able to tell who the shaman is,” Kavon said.

“Which doesn't help me if you’re busy fighting him.” Ahtisham’s words cause a few flare of worry and guilt to fill the bond. If they survived this, Darren was sending Kavon to fucking therapy. “I am completely invested in this fight,” Ahtisham continued. “I may not have Talent, but it’s part of this world. I will not stand by while those with Talent are targeted or exterminated. So I am not questioning our reason for being involved in this fight. However, I am a little fuzzy on the logistics. And I am uncomfortable going into a fight where I don't actually know which weapons will be effective or how to use them.”

“And you waited until now to address this?” Les asked with exaggerated horror.

Ahtisham gave him a dirty look. “I didn't know there was a problem until two days ago, and I had planned to address this the morning after I found out. Then Darren got himself blown up.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I always had bad timing on getting blown up.”

“You do. Your timing sucks.” Ahtisham rolled his eyes at Darren’s fake apology. “But, the minute Kavon came into the office, I planned to address logistics. He walked into the office twenty minutes ago, and we’re in a car headed to the scene of an enemy encounter. I hate to be the Debbie downer of the group, but this is feeling a little rushed.”

“We don't have time to sit around and wait for the shaman to make the next move,” Kavon said.

“I get that.” Ahtisham’s voice was conciliatory, but he wasn’t backing down. “I was on the battlefield and I understand that exigent circumstances sometimes require you to take action which looks precipitous in hindsight. However, this is precipitous in foresight, and all I'm asking is for a little logistical and tactical information. For example, how do I identify shaman?”

The SUV was damningly silent.

Eventually Les answered. “You can't. You could search for the glow of shamanic marks, but sometimes it's hard to see them. Kavon’s skin is so dark that if he is standing in sunlight, his blue freckles don’t show up. And Darren…”  Les scoffed. “I've never seen a shaman with a lighter shamanic marks. I'm fairly sure you need black light to spot them.”

“So the only consistent sign of a shaman using his power is also unreliable,” Ahtisham summarized. “Great.”

“We’ll discuss logistics when we get back to the office,” Kavon said and from the tone it was clear he wanted that to be the end of the discussion. Darren just hoped they would get back to the office because he agreed with Ahtisham—rushing into this fight without a plan felt precipitous. But Kavon was the bull determined to challenge the predator.