Realms of Our Own: Soul Thief



  Soul Thief

  by K. M. Carroll

  A story using ten characters by ten different authors. This story takes place in the urban fantasy universe of the Spacetime Legacy, by K. M. Carroll.

  "I'm hungry," said Molon. "We ordered that pizza twenty-five minutes ago." He eyed Indal sideways with one yellow eye, and his ragged ears quirked backward a little. He was a humanoid wolf, and wore baggy clothes to conceal his hunched, lupine body.

  "Fine, fine." Indal clipped on the ornate silver bracelets that kept him from transforming when he worked magic. He was a human in his mid-twenties, and lived a double life as a werewolf. "I swear, you only hired me to do mundane chronomancy."

  Molon crossed his grey-furred arms and didn't deny it.

  Their private detective office was on the second floor of a business complex in Phoenix, Arizona. The city roared around them like a living ocean, and occasionally cast flotsam into their office in the form of cases.

  Even supernatural cases.

  Indal extracted a small mirror from a drawer, and laid it on the desk. Then he held up both hands and summoned violet time-lightning. It crackled from palm to palm, illuminating his fashion-model looks and ruffled black hair. But it also tugged at his wolf body,which was curled in hyperspace, waiting to swap into reality. It growled in his mind. The silver bracelets grew warm.

  The magic lightning dropped onto the mirror, then bounced to the reflective silver ring on Indal's third finger. The lightning formed itself into a smoky cobweb in midair--a shadow of the timeline. It was hung with white stars--events--which Indal expanded with a touch. "The girl delivering the pizza is climbing our stairs."

  He collapsed the spell as a knock rang upon the door. Molon sprang across the room and opened it.

  The young woman stared at his wolf face as he handed her the money. His hairy, clawed hands drew her attention, then she laughed. "Some costume! What are you, a furry?"

  Molon squinted at her, and licked his nose to keep from drooling. "Yes, ma'am." He took the pizza and shut the door. "Furry, furry, furry. This world is insane. On Psellugu, no Lubanian would dream of cross-dressing as a human." He opened the pizza box and the heavenly aroma of pepperoni filled the room. He grabbed a slice, ate it in three bites, and grabbed another.

  Indal snatched a few pieces before the whole thing disappeared. "Insane pays the bills. At least Earth is more tolerant of supernatural things now--since Tyrona Gate."

  Molon gave a growling chuckle. "That's the only reason I considered living here. I don't blend with the natives."

  Indal shrugged. "Neither do I--especially when my wolf needs a run." He sat at his desk and checked his computer. "Speaking of which, there's a couple of cases up for grabs."

  Molon lapped water from a glass with his long pink tongue. He held up a hand and rotated a wrist.

  Indal devoured his pizza slice and grabbed another before turning to his computer monitor. "There's the Miller case. Woman wants to find out if her husband is cheating."

  "No." Molon bared his teeth in a brief snarl. "No domestic disputes. I'm too tempted to rip out throats."

  "How about that gas station robbery last night?"

  "The police have a suspect in custody. No good."

  "We could track down some would-be kidnappers. Since I'm, you know, a chronomancer."

  "We're not Minority Report." Molon glared at Indal, ears pinned flat. "Nobody will be arrested for a crime they haven't committed yet."

  Indal shrugged. "Sue me."

  The wolf-man returned to his desk and frowned at his computer's screen, licking each finger clean before touching the mouse. "New email. Interesting."

  Indal straightened. If Molon found a case interesting, it usually meant being chased, shot at, or teleported randomly off-world.

  Molon read the email aloud. "I'm Grayson Floyd, a programmer at Southvista Software. I read that you take supernatural cases. Someone has stolen my boss's soul--her name is Natasha Genesis. Please help!"

  Molon snorted. "He's sent a QR code so we can get in. Thoughtful."

  Indal blinked, several times. "Stolen a soul? Come on, magic is messing with the laws of physics. Not moving antimatter around. Or whatever souls are made of."

  Molon smiled by letting his tongue loll out and crinkling his eyes. "That's the mystery, isn't it?"

  * * *

  Southvista Software was the muscle behind the world's most powerful Internet search engines, as well as numerous other tech industries. Their headquarters was a gleaming edifice of glass and steel in the heart of Phoenix, glittering in the desert sun.

  As the two detectives approached the steel security doors, Molon sniffed the air that wafted from the building. Plastic. Hot silicon. It made him sneeze, and the roof of his mouth tasted of metal.

  The guard at the door scanned the QR code, and opened the door with a sullen look, as of he suspected them of planning to hack the company's infrastructure. "Go straight to Floyd's office and nowhere else." He stared at Molon, who wore a long-sleeved hoodie with the hood pulled forward to conceal his muzzle. It was hard to see, but Molon trusted his nose more than his eyes. He kept his hairy hands in his coat pockets.

  "Excellent." Indal stepped in front of his partner and pressed a twenty into the guard's hand. The guard's expression lightened, and he looked the other way as they entered the lobby.

  It was a cool, spacious lobby, all marble floors and walls. A huge bank of mirrors covered the far wall, making the place look even bigger. People worked behind numerous desks, gazing into computer screens, or talking on phones.

  Molon led the way toward the vast elevator, which occupied the lobby's center like its own huge black pillar.

  "You didn't have to bribe him," Molon grumbled. They stepped inside and the elevator doors shut behind them.

  Indal grinned and flipped his black hair out of his eyes. "A bribe works miracles, like a magic charm that brings good luck."

  "Or maybe it's just your disgusting good looks."

  Indal tilted his chin and affected a noble pose. "Could be, could be."

  Molon kept his back to the elevator's security camera. His baggy pants and shirt almost concealed his hunched lupine form. With any luck, security would think he was one more droopy-headed teen. A teen with the broad shoulders of a quarterback, shoulder pads included.

  The elevator stopped at the fifth floor, and the two detectives stepped into a hallway. On the left, windows overlooked the cityscape--graceful skyscrapers, with jagged volcanic mountains in the distance. On the right were office doors. Programmer funk steamed out from under many of the doors--donuts, coffee, Mountain Dew, and not enough soap. The funkiest-smelling door was 505.

  Indal knocked.

  A male voice muttered something unintelligible.

  Indal raised an eyebrow at Molon, shrugged and opened the door.

  Inside was a nerd cave. Molon's nose picked out the remains of stale pizza in the garbage first. He pushed back his hood. Two desks formed an L that supported six monitors, all displaying programming interfaces. Tangles of cables covered the floor. Posters of Cheeseburger Cats covered the walls. A single young man hunched over a keyboard, his back to them, typing away.

  "Hey," Molon barked. "Detectives. Come to help you."

  The man ducked his head and didn't respond.

  Molon crossed the room and looked at the man. His name tag said Grayson. He was in his early 20s, with toffee-colored hair, and his face and wrists were far too thin. His eyes flicked toward Molon and away. A text document was open on the screen. Grayson had typed, "Hi, come on inside. I'm so glad you came!"

  Molon beckoned to his junior partner and pointed at the screen.

  Indal squint
ed. "Oh. Maybe he's mute."

  Grayson nodded without looking at them.

  "Okay." Indal pulled a notepad out of his pocket. "You said your boss's soul was stolen. How long ago was this?"

  "This morning," Grayson typed. "A bunch of teenagers came through on a tour. They took her soul. I know they did. Some of them shook hands with her, and she collapsed as they left. The doctors say it's a stroke, but I know it's her soul."

  The detectives exchanged a skeptical look. Molon stroked his whiskers. "Grayson, maybe it was a stroke."

  Grayson's face contorted in a grimace. "No, no! It was her soul! After they all were done shaking hands, her eyes were empty. She didn't talk anymore."

  A shiver passed through Molon's body, and his fur tried to bristle under the confining clothes. He nodded at Indal to write this down. "Who was this group?"

  Grayson opened another document and waved his cursor over it.

  Molon leaned over the desk. An itinerary of a tour through Southvista Software. A homeschool group of special needs kids. The surname Littleton jumped out at him. Two kids and one mother named Karyn. A growl formed in his chest, but he struggled to suppress it.

  Indal snapped a picture with his camera phone. "Looks like we've got our suspects."

  "Yes," muttered Molon. "And we're starting with Karyn. She and I go way back."

  * * *

  Karyn Littleton lived in a ranch-style house down in Gilbert, a southern suburb of Phoenix. As Indal and Molon walked under the spreading pines toward the front door, Molon profiled the place by smell. Pine needles. Green grass--expensive out here in the desert. A dog lived somewhere nearby. Smells of multiple people clung to the yard, as well as Karyn's distinctive scent. No blood. Always good. The fresh scent of outdoors refreshed his nose after the staleness of Grayson's office.

  "Are you sure about this woman? I mean, she has kids." Indal pointed to a tricycle under a tree.

  "Positive," growled Molon. "She's an assassin. I've had her as a suspect in three different cases. But the evidence never stuck."

  "So she won't be fond of you."

  "Probably not." Molon stepped on the porch and rapped on the door.

  Muffled shrieks and laughter echoed from inside, and footsteps galloped to the door. It whipped open, and a small girl grinned at them. She was green from head to foot--light green hair, dark green skin, green eyes--and wearing a Power Rangers t-shirt and shorts.

  Molon blinked. The t-shirt had four sleeves. Two arms held the door open. The third arm waved at them, and the fourth gripped a water gun.

  "Hi there!" exclaimed the child. "Mom, there's a guy and a wolf here! Should I let them come in?"

  Karyn appeared, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Her strawberry-blond hair was tied back in a bandanna, and she wore a white t-shirt and denim shorts, no shoes. She stuck both hands on her hips and faced the detectives. "Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin. Long time no see, wolf. What'd I do now?"

  Indal cleared his throat. "We're not accusing you of anything, ma'am. There was an accident at Southvista Software, and we're investigating everyone who was there today. Would you mind answering a few questions?"

  Karyn gazed at Indal in confusion, and Molon chuckled inwardly. This was why he paid the kid--Indal was always the good cop.

  "Me! Me!" said the green girl, bouncing up and down and waving her four arms. "I love answering questions!"

  "Weebles, go finish your handwriting." Karyn smacked Weeble's rear.

  Weebles pouted and ran into the depths of the house.

  Karyn's eyes hardened, and she folded her arms. "So. What's happened?"

  "The system administrator at Southvista Software's had a stroke," said Molon. "A witness told us that the children in the tour group stole her soul."

  Indal worked a tiny spell in his right hand, concealed behind his notepad. Tracing Karyn's timeline. Another reason Molon paid the kid--a skilled chronomancer was worth his weight in hundred dollar bills.

  Karyn exhaled and smiled. "No one in this house works magic, Molon. You know I don't. Jackson doesn't, and neither does Weebles."

  Indal wrote this down, the lightning of his spell looping around his pen. "What is she, anyway?"

  "One of the plant-cephalopod hybrids from Maothos. Her people asked me to raise her as a human to enrich their society." Karyn shot Indal a sharp glance. "Are you working magic?"

  "Yep," said Indal with a sheepish grin. "Just verifying your story, ma'am. It checks out."

  "Glad to hear it." Karyn shot Molon a fierce look. "Are you done?"

  Molon held eye contact. "Yes. Thanks for your time."

  She shut the door in their faces.

  Molon and Indal walked through layers of heat and shade back to Molon's SUV.

  "What'd you find out?" Molon opened the passenger door of his souped-up red Cavalier.

  Indal climbed into the driver's seat. "Not a sign of magic in her entire timeline. Same for Weebles. But both of them were affected by magic going on at Southvista--they had ripples. So somebody in the group had it."

  Molon considered this. Karyn's presence didn't make her guilty--she was entitled to a field trip now and then. He relaxed his guard a little, opened his mouth and let his tongue hang out in a canine smile. "The Sanchez kids might prove more interesting."

  * * *

  The Sanchez family lived in on a ranch in northern Scottsdale, where Phoenix was beginning to devour the desert in its never-ended quest to fill the entire Sonoran desert. Indal had looked at Phoenix's future once, and in a century the city joined hands with Los Angeles.

  Indal halted the car at the ranch's security gate, a fancy brass deal with cactus shapes worked into it. Molon got them through by flashing his detective's badge at the camera. Indal pulled onto the gravel driveway and followed it through native brush and saguaro cactus toward the enormous house on a distant hillside. "Swanky." Indal wouldn't mind living on acreage like this. Plenty of room for the wolf to roam when it got restless.

  "If you scratch my car on those cholla cactus, it's coming out of your commission."

  The car had begun life as a lowly Chevrolet Cavalier, but after Molon had customized its entire body and wheels, it had become a snazzy little street racer. Indal loved driving it. "Molon, sheesh, I'm like ten feet from them. Why don't you get glasses?"

  The wolf squinted and grumbled under his breath.

  The house itself was a sprawling monster--a series of single-story boxes in the old Adobe style, with wide awnings over every porch. There were five porches, all at different levels.

  "How many people live here?" Indal tried to watch the road and not gape at the house.

  Molon lifted his smartphone. "Two teenagers, their bodyguard tutor, and their grandfather, who apparently owns everything from power plants to pumpkin farms."

  "There's no way they need this much room."

  Molon shrugged a broad shoulder. "Maybe they throw great parties."

  At last, Indal pulled around a screen of acacia and parkinsonia trees, and a ubiquitous saguaro cactus, and arrived at a parking area with an aluminum shade built over it. Two cars and a motorcycle sat under the shade, and Indal pulled in beside them. The late afternoon sunlight was mellowing to gold, but heat poured from the sky and bled from the ground. Monsoons were on the way, but today was the last and hottest day.

  Indal stepped out of the car, keys in hand. As he did, a man appeared out of nowhere, six inches from Indal's nose. Indal flinched sideways by instinct.

  The stranger's fist missed his face and struck the driver's side window. It exploded in a shower of glass.

  Molon sprang out of the other door, howling curses in his own language.

  Indal swore and slid along the length of the Cavalier, with the hostile man stalking after him. The stranger wore a sweaty red polo shirt and cutoff khaki shorts, and had the hardened, ice-cold expression of a hired security man.

  Indal scrambled for better footing. Which would work better on this thug--time ma
gic, or releasing the vicious wolf that hovered outside of reality, waiting for an excuse to rend flesh?

  Molon dashed around the car on all fours, and sprang at the stranger from behind.

  The stranger spun with superhuman speed, caught Molon's outstretched arms, twisted sideways and dashed him into the gravel. Molon yelped.

  Indal unsnapped one silver bracelet.

  "Who are you? What are you doing here?" the stranger said.

  Molon scrambled to his feet and stood hunched over, werewolf-style, panting and glaring at the stranger with ears flat and teeth bared.

  "We're detectives." Indal kept his fingers on the second bracelet's clasp. "The system admin of Southvista Software collapsed today, and we're asking the tour group a few questions." Suspicion flickered in Indal's mind. "You're the bodyguard tutor for these kids, aren't you?"

  The stranger faced them both, hands at his sides. His eyes were flat, as if shutters had closed behind them.

  Finally he said, "I'll ask if they want to speak to you. If you're really detectives, act like professionals and wait here."

  "What about my car?" Molon's teeth clicked together on every word.

  The stranger cracked a smile. "We'll see." He walked toward the house, and a pair of translucent golden wings unfurled from his shoulders, gleaming in the afternoon sun.

  Indal elbowed Molon. "He's an angelus."

  "Tell me something I don't know." Molon brushed gravel off his shirt, and examined the broken window, swearing under his breath.

  * * *

  Sophia and Cathair Sanchez watched the encounter from behind a screen of magenta bougainvillea that sheltered the northeast porch.

  "What do you see?" said Cathair quietly.

  Sophia shook her head. "No demons. But there's something wrong with the human--his shadow is shaped like a monster. And the wolf-man--I thought he was wearing a costume, but now I don't think so. He's scary."

  "They must not be too dangerous, because Jesse let them stay."

  Sophia cracked a smile. "And broke their window."

  Cathair grinned, too.

  Jesse climbed the patio stairs and joined them behind the bouginvillea. His wings trailed behind him like a cape, knocking pink flowers all over the porch. "Detectives." He repeated the information about Southvista Software.