Paris, France
December 2012
Lightning struck, splitting a tree that was a little too close for comfort. Immediately another blinding flash followed to the right. The noise of tearing wood and cracking thunder deafening, and the scent of ozone was thick in the air.
The rogue vampire I had been following cowered, frantically searching the sky with glowing red eyes as if frightened he might be grilled next - and quickly decided to take off. Running for his life and obviously more terrified of the capricious weather than at the idea of being offed by the Patroness of Paris. Go figure. He wasn’t the first, and if this kept up I would have to put in more training sessions to keep in shape.
But that’s what it was like these days. If it had started to rain frogs, I wouldn’t have been surprised. I snorted, shaking my head as I remembered the words of the US president when he had talked to the citizens of the world about the upcoming Turn. ‘We live in interesting times, full of change’, he’d said. Really nice way of sugarcoating impending doom.
I looked at the pitch-black sky above me that was boiling with a rage and flaring with violet-blue forks of lightning, and which seemed even more eerily as it stood in stark contrast with the orange halos coming from the streetlamps, flooding the otherwise dark and empty street below.
The Turn, the earth’s shift into becoming a place of magic, was only three weeks ahead and mother earth was either very thrilled or annoyed about it. Really hard to tell. The weather was a major force and going haywire. Storms, rain, or an incredibly warm sun – it all could change in the blink of an eye. Three days ago a tornado, which was a rare thing on the European continent to begin with, had nuked an entire small town in the north of France. And it hadn’t been just a whirlwind, but a full-blown F5. The people had been totally unprepared and not forewarned.
It wasn’t just the weather, though. Earth itself was in an uproar. The ground trembled all around the world, in California and the usual spots, but also places where no plates were tectonically active, like some parts of Europe, Russia and the heart of North America. Tsunamis and lava rolled over land, and if the ash clouds were anything to go by, air traffic was about to become a thing of the past. Interesting times indeed.
I was finishing up my daily, or rather nightly, patrol through Paris a little earlier than usual, since there had been annoyingly little for me to do. The steady buzz of cars that never completely faded away had dimmed, and the streets were empty except for those searching oblivion at the bottom of their glass. Just like the other nights. One would have expected quite the contrary, but no, it seemed that even the magical creatures had holed up, waiting for the Turn and chaos to pass. Well, I certainly wouldn’t complain, though I had to admit it somehow made me restless and edgy. In my experience such draughts ended with a big, messy boom.
Which made me think of the letter I had received a week ago. It had been from the police. No one liked to get letters from the police and I wasn’t an exception, especially if the letter was an invitation. Tomorrow the new special unit investigating magic-related crimes was to be officially introduced. And I was invited.
The job of leading that unit had been offered to me after the Council had come out of hiding and explained the facts of magical life to the human governments and other higher institutions. But I had politely declined since I was quite happy in my position as a private detective and had a long and not so good history with Paris’ finest that all too often had ended with me twiddling my thumbs behind bars.
I was pretty sure I wasn’t the only one invited, and I doubted that the rest of the police liked the idea of having the Parisian leaders of the two biggest magical factions in one place at the same time given the fact that they didn’t like each other that much. It made me curious indeed to see who had taken on the job of leading that new unit. The invitation was either a proof of stupidity or cunning.
The sky flashed white and thunder boomed, leaving no place for any other sound. Heavy rain started to fall. The last souls that had had the courage to walk these streets scattered away, hiding out or giving up. I liked the rain, the roar of it.
Drenched I reached my building, punched in the security code and got in, where I shook myself like a dog before heading up the stairs to the sixth floor. As quietly as possible I opened the door and got inside, slipping out of my coat before noticing the flickering blue light coming from the TV in the living room.
When I walked into the room, I found Pauline snuggled up on the couch with my orange tiger-trapped-in-the-body-of-a-cat Malo beside her. “Hi, already back? Calm out there, I take it?”
Pauline was a German faery with violet eyes, flaxen curls and pointed ears. She was also my roommate and friend. “Yeah, just like the other nights. What are you watching?”
“Pretty Woman.”
As she continued to watch the movie, I sat down beside her, stroking a happy Malo under his chin, and studied her. We had met three months ago while I was patrolling the Jardin de Luxembourg where I had found her dancing naked in the fountain before the Senate building. I had been nearly dead broke, Pauline more or less homeless thanks to some unfaithful jerk, and so it had seemed logical and kind of natural to start apartment-sharing right the next day. And however crazy Pauline seemed to be on a first glance, there was more to her, a kindness and warmth that made me feel grateful for letting the fresh breeze (tornado, cough) she personified into my life. My eyes drifted to her lavender wings that still seemed a little too thin and delicate, but had finally reached their usual size after a mad scientist had ripped them out a few months back. My stomach clenched. Pauline might not see it that way, but I knew that it was my fault. He had mistaken her for me.
“I don’t need a knight. I just want the right one, he’ll do just fine.”
My gaze drifted back to the TV to see Richard Gere swinging his umbrella instead of a sword.
“You’ll find him. I’ll go get some sleep, tomorrow might be interesting.”
Pauline looked up, grinning. “The meeting, right. You have to tell me all about it when you get back.”
“Will do. Good night.”
The walls were cold, white tiles. It stank of fear and death, covered by the sharp smell of disinfectant. Even behind closed eyes the light was blinding. I was cold. I knew I lay on a steal operating table in the lab.
“You should have been there,” a hard voice accused.
My eyes snapped open and focused on Pauline. Pauline, cut and probed, with blood running from her back where her wings should have been and along her legs. “They wanted you, not me. You should have been in your office, not me. Look what they did to me.”
The leather straps around my wrists and chest snapped tight, making it hard to breathe. Silent tears, hot against my cold skin, ran down my face. I couldn’t breathe.
The next moment I was in a dark room, where a hooded figure stood in front of an altar. The priest I hadn’t been able to save. The man I had killed. His only mistakes had been ignorance and the fear of change, both of which had turned into madness when a god had taken his mind prisoner.
But the madness was gone now and the hooded figure turning to face me was only human. A kind man I had met in a church, with warm yet painfully sad eyes. “You could have saved me. There must have been another way.”
The pain was back in my chest, a heavy weight. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t cry. I was alone.
“You failed. You will fail again.”
Suddenly cruel, feminine laughter rang out, echoing from the walls and rising to a piercing cacophony. Louder and louder, inhuman. I covered my ears that felt like bursting, but to no avail.
I woke up, an unvoiced scream in my throat and covered in cold sweat. It wasn’t the first time I had this dream, and I didn’t need a shrink to understand what was going on inside my head.
It was difficult to remember the ones you saved, when you kept seeing those you couldn’t, wanting to change that one moment it went wrong. Like me being in the office, instead of Pauline.
I rubbed my face and just sat in my bed for a moment, darkness surrounding me. Then, with a sigh, I threw the covers to the side and pulled on my sweats, before grabbing my sneakers. Dawn was hours away but I knew sleep wouldn’t come again and didn’t like the idea of wasting time. So I would use it to keep me in shape, and to keep myself out of my head. To hell with the beauty sleep and the dark circles under my eyes.
Warm rays of sunlight had finally made their way through the thick cover of dark clouds and patches of an icy blue sky peeped through here and there. The invitation had said to come to the police station in the 11th arrondissement which was just a stone’s throw away from my apartment. Nevertheless I enjoyed the sun on my face and the scent of rain in the air as the streets and sidewalks slowly dried.
The police station was nothing fancy, neither was the alley where it was situated. I really think their favorite color was gray, and it started at the outside. Rain and exhaust fumes painted walls that were supposed to be the color of sand in an imitation of the sandstone that was so typical for Paris and steel-gray bars blocked the view, inside and out.
Suddenly a passing shadow caught my attention. I looked up and saw a breathtaking silhouette with spread wings against the clear blue sky. A woman in the street noticed it too and ran away, her eyes wide in horror. I only sighed and waited for the shadow to land beside me.
Gabin was a tall, sharp featured raven and had blue-black hair that, when rays of the sun or moonlight hit just right, was streaked with a subtle green. The magnificent wings spreading from his back were made out of feathers that held the same play of colors.
I chided him, though I couldn’t hide a smile, “Was that drama really necessary? What about keeping a low profile for the fragile humans’ sake?”
He rolled his eyes. Gray eyes that held shadows, a quiet sadness that never really went away even when he smiled. “That from the woman who has a sword strapped onto her back.”
“At least they don’t know that, since they can’t see it.”
“Kylian didn’t want me to be late so there was no other way.”
Kylian Tremaine, the Council’s former assassin had been sent to help me out a few months back and had ended up killing and then taking the place of the Chef de la Meute, the leader of the Parisian shapeshifter pack. Technically and biologically Gabin wasn’t a shapeshifter, but he could change into a nine feet tall battle version of a raven and therefore he was living with them. In contrast to shapeshifters, who could change into complete human shapes, the pair of giant and angelic wings always stayed on his back, never disappearing whichever form he took.
“So you drew the short straw, or what?”
“The boss just gave it to me, to save us both the time and trouble.”
At some times it still staggered me how easy and normal it was to talk with him. For someone who only came into existence less than a year ago he certainly knew how to adapt and fit just right in.
I laughed drily, “Of course he did. Well, shall we go inside?”
The police stations in Paris seemed to be either made out of a depressive gray cloud, or were a weird and failed attempt to reflect modernism and design. This one belonged somewhere in between, with touches of color that some might call art but that weren’t capable of distracting from the obvious: gray. In the end it was just another police station and the people working here either liked their job too much or not at all. But all of them were a lot heavier armed than usual, thanks to the police forces and army working together and planning on how to retain the pre-Turn panic.
Television and radio were endlessly talking about The Turn, of the magic breaking through and of the things to come. Totally ordinary humans, little grandmas or nerds or whoever, might suddenly be able to set people on fire or grow wings, everything imagination could come up with and more would be possible. The Council and the governments and other human institution could talk about preparations all they wanted, but once the magic hit people in this world would panic. Even if it were just a few, panic was like a nasty virus, if we were out of luck, it could spread in epidemical proportions.
Gabin and I didn’t go unnoticed. There were careful stares and watchful glances out of the corner of the eye. The last time I visited I stayed the night, so walking up to the reception desk instead of coming in handcuffed through the back door felt rather refreshing. We made the woman behind the desk jump as she looked up at us. Though I was sure it was mostly Gabin’s fault. I looked normal, sleep-deprived maybe but normal none the less. He was the one with the wings.
Unfazed he pulled out the letter that held his invitation and so did I, grateful we weren’t shot on the spot.
Gabin tried the charming smile he must have discovered was a lethal weapon against everything female. It worked. “Gabin Corbeau, acting in place of Kylian Tremaine the Chef de la Meute.”
Though unseen and ignored I added, “And Maiwenn Cadic, Patroness of Paris, acting for myself.”
She didn’t even take her eyes off the yummy raven beside me to study the invitations. “Of course. Commandant Moulin awaits you upstairs. Second floor, third door on your right.”
“Thanks.”
We took the stairs and followed the lady’s directions.
The room was nothing special, neither were the four desks occupying it, but managed to tell a long story about the importance and priority attached to the new unit inside the police ranking. Commandant Moulin was easy to make out; not because of the uniform but rather because of his presence. He looked like a strong and capable man who hadn’t let his desk job affect his shape. The face was friendly and yet subtly commanding.
With two quick strides he stood in front of us. Extending his hand he said, “Miss Cadic, nice to finally meet you.”
I shook the hand that was offered. “Thank you.”
Moulin’s attention shifted towards the man beside me. His eyes revealed no reaction or thought, neither about the man nor the creature in front of him. “I take it Kylian Tremaine was held up elsewhere?”
Gabin nodded, “Yes, unfortunately.”
So despite the bubbling hormones the woman from the reception desk had managed to get the information about the change of plans, or rather invitees, to the Commandant before we had even entered the room.
A woman stepped forward to stand beside Moulin. Olive-skinned, as if dusted with the gold of setting sunlight, black hair cut short in a pixie style and whiskey-colored eyes that didn’t bother to hide the lethal cat she was. She seemed geared up for whatever was to come, her stance tough; both of which revealed that to her being a cop came before being a shapeshifter. Still, I was more than mildly impressed that the police was for once smart enough to choose a magical creature as head of their new unit.
“May I introduce Inspecteur Anouk Vigeur to you? She will be leading this unit.”
She nodded in greeting and took her cue. “Which brings us to why we are here. I invited you both since I’ve heard the Pack and the Patroness worked together before, and so I assumed you wouldn’t bite each other’s heads off.”
I shrugged. “Actually, it depends on the head.”
Her gaze swept towards Gabin, who hurried to smooth the waters like the gentleman he was. “She’s fine with mine, though.”
Vigeur pulled up an eyebrow and looked at us another moment, then said, “Please, let’s sit down.”
Behind her stood seven chairs arranged in a circle. Vigeur motioned towards those already taken by three men. “My colleagues, Agents Moreau, Rodriguez and Perrin.”
As I sat down I studied the three men. Like Vigeur they were dressed in plain clothes. Perrin was a willowy, young cop, who appeared eager on satisfying and impressing his superiors, and human. So was bald and brawny Rodriguez, though a lot more experienced and with a healthy dose of distrust in his brown eyes. Moreau however, dark-skinned with intelligent eyes, had something about him, what I couldn’t say, but I was sure he wasn’t human.
Instead of taking a chair like everybody else Inspecteur Vigeur leaned against her desk, gaining everyone’s attention. “The magical community has known about what is going on for some time now. Humans, however, have been quite brutally pulled out of the dark and into the light to face some sudden changes. They have to live with the fact that a magical shift, which they hardly understand to begin with, is coming their way and they have to accept that their monsters from movies and legends are real. Let’s be honest, it’s quite a load to deal with. This unit was put together not only to facilitate the transit that is necessary due to the recent revelations and to maintain order, but also to broaden our knowledge about the magical community. Knowledge is the key to understanding, which in turn is key to a peaceful coexistence.”
The whole last part was essentially code for ‘everything will be reported’. I had expected that much, but it didn’t mean I liked it. There was stuff humans were better off not knowing – lest we burst their fairy tale bubbles, again.
Vigeur continued, “I hope we will agree on some of these points and therefore will find some mutual footing. Eventually there might come a situation where a close collaboration will not only be necessary but vital.”
I said, “Since there are only seven of us, I take it that not all of us agree on that.”
“If you’re referring to Madame Lilith also known as the Queen of the Undead, then you’re right. She was offered two invitations, one for a private meeting and one to this. Both were declined.”
I snorted, “Of course. Lilith sees herself being above such mundane things as law and order or even making allies.”
“Now, I think the tone isn’t necessary, and you should know that we carry silver bullets,” Agent Rodriguez calmly cut in.
Unruffled I studied him. “Thanks for letting me know, but I was just stating the truth. And by the way, I couldn’t care less what kind of metal the bullet is made of that rips through my vital parts. It would hurt like hell no matter what.”
Vigeur explained, “I think what Miss Cadic wanted to say was that Madame Lilith doesn’t see us or the human population as important enough to participate in this meeting.”
Unfortunately I had the feeling that she ranged Kylian on the same level even though he had sent Gabin in his place.
“Good to hear that for once the police was clever enough to hire a magical creature for this one,” Viviane, said as soon as I got home and brought her and Pauline up to date.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
Viviane, the mysterious Lady of the Lake, my mother figure, friend and tutor was fifty-some and had short auburn hair showing streaks of white and a low, husky but warm voice. At the moment she was busy making a salad in my kitchen, while Pauline fried chicken breasts in a pan.
I started to set the table for us, which was actually a counter surrounded by high stools that separated the kitchen and living room areas. “She’s clever too, and knows that Lilith pegged her as biased, given that she’s a shifter.”
Viviane snorted, “Whatever creature they would have chosen, Lilith would always have found something to criticize and used it as an excuse for being uncooperative and a general pain in the ass.”
“What do you think Pauline?”
“For now it seems to me you’re the one that got the most out of it. Someone whose ready to cooperate with you and not eager on taking you in.”
I smiled. “You’re right. The police and I on something close to equal footing, hell, if that isn’t worth celebrating.” With that thought in mind I grabbed a bottle of red wine from the rack and opened it. “But enough of my business, how’s yours doing Pauline?”
When Pauline had moved in she had told me that she wanted to open up a flower shop. The idea was perfect since she would be able to control her fairy nature thanks to dusting the flowers. All that had stood in the way had been the renovation of the first floor.
Viviane served the salad, which Pauline topped off with the chicken breasts. She grinned at me when we all sat down.
“Well, we might have several events worth celebrating. I’m happy to announce that Une conte de Fée opens in a week.”
“Yay!” I sprang from my stool to hug Pauline, all the while giggling and cheering. “That is great. Though I have to warn you, I think Viviane and I won’t be able to top that birthday present.”
Pauline smiled sweetly, “I’ve all I need right here. Oh, by the way I thought you’d be happy that you can go take care of your paperwork. You said you weren’t able to do them before with all the noise and stuff.”
My smile crumbled at the same time as Viviane and Pauline burst out laughing. “Gee, thanks. How considerate of you to remind me.”
My office was painted in pale amber and dominated by an old, wooden desk. The wall behind it was covered with stereotypical rows of filing cabinets in an attempt to make it look like a normal investigative agency and to reassure clients. A big window and a glassed door offered ample light and for interested pedestrians to give free rein to their curiosity. I put down my laptop on the desk, and settling down into my chair I enjoyed the heavenly coffee. The silence surrounding me was deafening now that all the workers and their sounds were gone.
I thought about Pauline’s shop and her upcoming birthday. Some people might wonder why we continued to think of tomorrow, of the future, when there was a big fat magical shift in front of us that the Mayans had marked as the end of the world. The thing was that this wasn’t the first time it happened, and so far we all had survived – humans and magical creatures alike. So we would plan and celebrate as we well should.
Once again my mind drifted back to Inspecteur Vigeur and Commandant Moulin who had offered her job to me. But for the life of me, I liked being my own boss too much. Saints Investigation was mine, and even with the police I’d be stuck with paperwork anyway, so I could just as well stay here. With a sigh and a last sip from my coffee I finally set out to attack the giant stack of papers in front of me.
The stack of paper had narrowed down about two thirds to reach its usual height when a knock sounded at the door. The man that entered looked carefully around before letting his gaze settle on me. He was in his mid-thirties and in good shape. And obviously he wasn’t a hundred percent sure whether he was at the right address.
I stood and went around my desk to greet him, extending my hand. “Bonjour, my name is Maiwenn Cadic. Would you like to sit down?”
After another sweep of the room he nodded and sat.
“Can I offer you anything, a cup of coffee maybe?”
He cleared his throat. “No, thank you.”
I went back behind the desk and sat down too. “How can I help you, Monsieur -?
“Gauthier.”
I gave my best, most reassuring smile, like you would a child when it made his first steps towards you. “Monsieur Gauthier, what I can I do for you?”
The dam broke. “They wouldn’t help me. But she wouldn’t run, you understand? She wouldn’t do that to me. But they said they won’t do it. Because of this thing, the Turn, coming up and so. That there are a lot of people disappearing, or hightailing it as they called it.” He sighed, trying to gather himself. “I’m sorry.”
I reached out to touch his hand. “It’s alright. Take your time.” My mind was used to such reactions from clients and quickly translated. A woman he knew, probably his wife given the gold band on his finger, had gone missing and the police wouldn’t help him. I spoke softly but determined on getting the information I needed to help him, “Your wife is missing?”
He nodded.
“Can you tell me more about her? About what happened?”
He took a deep breath. “Her name’s Sophie. She’s my wife. She went missing. Didn’t come home after work.”
“When was that, Monsieur Gauthier?”
“Two days ago.” For the first time his eyes looked at me, really seeing me as he watched me taking notes. “So you believe me, then? That she didn’t just run off?”
In these times a lot of people ran. I squeezed his hand. “We will find out.”
It was cold outside, and it was already getting dark. I liked that about winter; this open, natural and not oppressive kind of darkness. Funny thing given the fact that I protected the City of Lights that really lived up to its name in the winter. Soft lights illuminated the streets, vibrant ones decorated the houses and buildings and shop windows were colorfully dressed – at least where inhabitants or owners hadn’t left. Scents of cinnamon, burned wood and warm dinner wafted out of the cafés and floated on the cold, nightly breeze. The city’s magic was still there though.
Christmas wasn’t far. I inhaled a deep breath of fresh air and smiled. Snow wasn’t far either. I enjoyed watching my breath come back out of my mouth as small, foggy clouds. Cutter, my beloved sword was strapped across my back but not visible in the leather sheath thanks to its own magic, and I felt the familiar weight of my emergency bag around my hips. Pulling up the collar of my coat against the cold I began my patrol and headed north-west.
A group of four dark and tall men caught my eye when I was patrolling in the eighteenth arrondissement, on my way towards Montmartre. Vampires. They mostly dressed all alike, mainly in black leather. Their skin was pale and nearly white, and nicely accentuated by their choice