Were Too?

“State your name, for the record.” A perpetually unfriendly looking officer instructed, putting down a small tape recorder between us on the interrogation table.

“Daeore Dermegil.” I replied, giving the tape recorder a raised eyebrow, but not commenting. I put my cuffed hands on the table quietly.

“Records say you were born here, in Toronto, September 22nd 1979, and returned recently from Japan? Is that right?” I looked at the officer’s name tag, ‘Task’ it said. He continued when I nodded, “You also have dual citizenship, and own property in both places?”

“And pay my taxes, on time.” I continued for him, drawing a frown and irritated look from the officer leaning against the white washed concrete block wall behind and to the left of Task.

“No need to comment, just answer the questions.” He said.

“You list your occupation as ‘none’.” Task continued, rolling his eyes at me, at his partner’s reaction.

“My father left behind some very well maintained investments, I keep them up, and have been living off them.” I tilted my head to one side, “I’m curious, why you are asking.”

The irritated cop in the corner answered, “A little late for a lawyer, don’t you think?”

Ah, good cop, bad cop. Though, by the looks officer Task was giving me, it was more like good cop, decaf cop. I smiled over Task’s shoulder at his partner, ‘Thorne’, “Depends, I know three, but you’d have to speak Chinese to understand the one who would be awake.” I enjoyed the way Thorne’s forehead reddened. “I could call a more local one, but it’s just after two in the morning, and she might not like being woken at this hour.”

Task cleared his throat to interrupt Thorne’s reply, “So, care to explain what you were doing at the mall, at midnight, with this?”

He reached down and picked up an object that had been leaning against the table leg, and placed it between us, just out of reach. It was a sword, or more importantly, MY sword.

You see, most wizards, or magi, have a staff. It’s a traditional thing that we carry around. A cane, a wand, a big walking stick, it was the single most common magical focus for one who does what I do. I liked my sword however. It was a gift, and had a history that one could trace back over two thousand years.

I’m sure you’re curious, but first, I had to answer Task.

Thorne gave me a grin, his look akin to a hunting dog about to catch its prey. I nodded to the sword, “I am a member of a Tai-chi dojo, and that is for the sword forms I practice.” Task scribbled something in a notebook, “As for me being there, I was on a date.”

Task wrote something else down, while Thorne growled at me, “What dojo is open that late, and what girl in her right mind would be out this late at night?”

Task was about to say something, but I met his eyes and spoke first, “The last class ends at midnight, and I’d hardly consider my instructor a girl. She’d probably break my arm if I did.” I’d also hardly consider her and me going on a date, but in the strictest sense, that’s what it was. “We went to the mall after class, to the pub, and had something to eat before the kitchen closed, and final rounds were called.”

“And they let you in with that?” Thorne uncrossed his arms long enough to motion to my sword, “You must be a pretty big tipper.”

I shook my head, though he was right, I was a big tipper, “She, my instructor, tossed out some thugs on a bad night. After that, she was told by management that she could come in with a tank, so long as it didn’t harm the doors.” Exact words from the management too, but he’s a bit crazy. “She carries something like that as well, though, you’d know that already?”

Task nodded slightly, a barely detectable smile on his face, “She’s a bit of a legend around here too, but continue, what happened after that.”

Ah, now we come to the ‘incident’. Here’s where things get tricky. When I was younger, still learning the particulars of my power, my master mentioned a ‘quick way’ to power. It seemed harmless enough at the time, and being a teenager who was getting frustrated with his lack of skill compared to his master, I took it.

It required me to make a promise, to accept a binding, or geas as some call it. To put it simply, I cannot lie. Not even socially. So if you ask me ‘does this look good on me’ my answer could quite possibly upset you.

I chose my next words carefully.

“She and I were talking, when some one broke some glass behind us.” True, though I left out the angry growling noises, “We both turned to look, and noticed someone who looked like he might start some trouble. Voices were raised, and the man threw a punch at the man across the table.” Also true, though, I left out the bit about the man seeming to grow about a foot in height before he attacked the one across from him.

Task nodded, and I continued, “Paul, the bouncer that night, started to walk over to break it up, but the man who just got punched, slashed the others throat.” With a claw, not a knife, but I didn’t mention that. “It got messy after that. The first person fell, out of sight under the table, and the second turned on Paul.”

“And that’s when you and her stepped into it?” Task asked.

“We liked Paul, so yes. We got there a little late though. Before either of us could clear the distance, the second person had rushed Paul and carried him out through the window. She and I followed, but the man was most of the way across the parking lot, and Paul had suffered the same fate as the first man.” I drew a line across my neck, “We didn’t pursue, and couldn’t do anything for Paul.” I didn’t mention that Paul was about three hundred pounds of muscle, and that the one who had shoved him through the window looked about half that, or that the man ran faster than an Olympic sprinter.

“You then waited for the authorities to arrive?” Task queried.

“She said it would be best if we waited, instead of having you show up on my doorstep to drag me in.” I had disagreed on that point, but she won the game of rock paper scissors and I stayed.

Thorne glared at me some more, and I finally asked, “So, I’m wondering what exactly your partner has against me.” I asked Task, trying to pretend that Thorne wasn’t there.

“He tried to take Kodori’s sword without asking.” He replied, straight faced, though I could see his eyes dance with amusement. We were put in separate cars, on the way to the station, and I never saw what became of her. “I think he’s still a bit sore about it.”

I nodded in understanding, “I don’t suppose we are done then?” I asked, letting myself fidget with the handcuffs.

“This address and phone number is correct?” Task asked me, sliding a bit of paper across the table, over my sword.

I nodded and he took the paper back, reaching into his belt for what I presumed to be the key to my handcuffs. I saved him the trouble, and slipped out of them with a quick motion and a whisper of magic. Task raised an eyebrow while Thorne started to go for his baton, “Keep up the good work.” I said trading the cuffs for my sword, and walked past a glaring Thorne, out the door.

I didn’t see Kodori on the way out, so I assumed she had already started on her way home. Thankfully, the station had a direct line phone, and I called up a cab.

I made small talk with the driver, who was surprised I, a British descent, sixth generation Canadian, spoke his language. He was nice enough to ignore my terrible accent too.

“You sure you want to be let out here?” He asked when we pulled up to my home, “Bit of a rough place, especially at this time of night.”

I smiled and handed him the fare, then stepped out, waving as he drove off. He was right. This was a rough place to live, a year ago when I returned. It was a warehouse and workshop district, where the property value was near nothing, had the occasional snap of gunfire, and a drug house down the street of me. After my return from Japan, following the tradition of my father’s careful spending, and my own want for a place that had lots of space, I found this place. The price was right, and after a little paperwork, I was the proud owner of a warehouse that could hold a basketball court, with bleachers. I had to put a fair bit of money into it to bring it up to code again, but afterwords, I had a home I could enjoy, and if the urge arose, have a wild party.

The neighborhood was another matter entirely. A few calls and a few months of police attention made the drug house down the street into a homeless shelter, and now, the area only looked rough.

Kind of like my warehouse. Old yellowed brickwork, cheap windows, and a driveway that I was considering on replacing, it looked as unimpressive as the rest of the buildings. I walked along the side to a sturdy metal fire door, and applied a key to the lock.

The first thing I did with all that space was add walls. Not as many as you would think, but they let me add things like closets, and guest rooms, and bathrooms that everyone was comfortable using. It also let me add a second floor, for more of the same. Letting me almost double the space had. Because of the second floor, the walls were much like the interrogation room back at the precinct, white washed concrete blocks. However, most of those walls were now covered in a nice dark wood paneling, lit by tasteful wall mounted candle shaped lights, giving the two main corridors of my main floor a sort of European mansion feel. Most of the other rooms were empty, both upstairs and down, but the three things that mattered were properly appointed. Depositing my coat and shoes in the mud room, I headed, sword in hand, to the kitchen.

The first room that mattered. Sure, laugh, but any one you ask who takes fighting seriously will tell you something like ‘when you can eat, eat. You don’t know when you might get to do so again.’ It had everything you would expect, only doubled. I did mention parties, right? Every one of my friends, who I followed, or was followed by, on my return to Canada, was either a big eater, or had very particular tastes. What my kitchen also had, that most did not, was a giant spider, sitting on the counter.

“Hey Mr.Skitters.” I said to the giant black tarantula, as I made my way to the first of two fridges.

Mr.Skitters was, in a traditional magic sense, my familiar. He was about the size of a large house cat, and probably more intelligent than officer Thorne. He waved a fore leg at me in greeting.

“Hungry?” I asked, knowing already that he was. I knew everything about my familiar, always. To make him my familiar, I had to perform a ritual that involved bits of me to power. It took a bit of hair, some blood, and almost a full week of meditation. The end result was the palm sized spider I had caught growing in size, and me picking up a useful magical pet.

I pulled out a small can of dog food from the cupboard and placed it on the counter near the spider, and proceeded to raid the fridge.

With a scraping crunch, Mr.Skitters opened the can with his fangs, and started on his meal. I liked to think that it made him at least think he was eating something living as a real spider should, and saving the lives of the neighboring cats.

After my meal, I went upstairs to the second room that really mattered, the bathroom. It was pretty standard as bathrooms go, but it was the industrial strength water heater that sat in the laundry room that I enjoyed most. The only thing that wasn’t standard was the huge L shaped mirror that rested over the sink, and hooked down to the floor beside the counter. It was a suggestion from a friend, who said it helped make sure you knew exactly where all your bruises were.

The mirror itself stood eight feet tall, accommodating my largest friend, if only just. I stood before the mirror and gave myself a look.

I had spent the seven years after my father’s death with a guardian from the company he worked for. This particular guardian was also a mage, like myself, and trained me to use the gift that had killed my father.

It wasn’t on purpose, but the energy I released when I awoke my magic potential caused his heart to fail.

That being said, I spent the next seven years tripping back and forth from Japan to China, alternating between training and schooling, and keeping my feet as much in the ‘real world’ as possible. I was proud of what my modest five-nine in height accommodated.

However, I hadn’t been very nice to it. Half of my seven years was spent in a monastery hidden someplace in the Himalayan mountains, training under someone who nearly all my more magically inclined friends considers a master of ass kicking. I myself was no slouch, but, as the proverb goes, to be good at something, you must first be bad. Learning how to use the sword I carried also helped me learn a great deal of first aid.

After my shower, I headed to the third most important room in my warehouse haven. The dojo.

Occupying the back third of my home, with no second floor above it, my dojo was the place I kept my skills sharp. Wooden weapons along one wall, a small gym set along another, there was enough space for a dozen people to work out. I even had an archery butte.

“Took you long enough.” Came a voice from some where in the gloom of the dojo, an instant before I turned on the light. “At least you remembered to put on your robe this time.”

“Nothing you haven’t seen, beaten, or thrown across the room before, Kodori.” I said, walking to the middle of the dojo floor, and sitting down across from the woman there, laying my sword beside me as if this were a meeting between two warriors.

Now, officer Task had said she was a bit of a legend, and I’ll tell you why. Not only is Kodori a very pretty lady, though, more of a fiery beauty than a model one, she was a walking contradiction. Asian build and looks, yet matching my height, with bright jade green eyes set in almond shaped eyelids.

Those eyes looked at me now, “We have a problem.” She stated simply.

“Really? And here I thought shape changers had bar fights all the time.” I kept my tone even. Sarcasm made her angry, and her eyes spoke of a bullshit meter that was already in the red.

“The Were clans usually keep things out in the woods, or at least agree to settle it out side of normal sight.” She replied, “I’m pretty sure the one who died first was a bear, the other a feline.”

I sighed. The standard ‘Were’ you hear about, are wolves. Fearsome, fast, feral, with blender-like personalities. Many others exist however. Cats, bears, seals, birds, just about every animal that has been worshiped, has a ‘Were’ clan out there. Some see it as a curse from a dark god, like say, Anubis cursing his faithful to gather the dead in the guise of a jackal. Others see it as a blessing, like the various native Americans who honor the spirits of the animals they hunt.

Your average shape changer looks like your average person. Though, when you describe some one you know as having ‘hawk like’ features, or having a temper like a bear, you might just be catching a glimpse of what they really are. That kind of ‘sense’ is almost always as far as a normal human sees into it. Someone like Kodori or me, practiced mages, can see past the human form. But that in itself takes magic.

“Think this will be a problem?”

“I’ve reported it to the office, but that’s all. It might just be a random thing, but…” She made a face, “But I’m getting that feeling again.”

It was my turn to make a face. Like myself, Kodori was a mage, though her ability was closer to the realm of spirits and precognition. Her ‘gut feelings’ were what made female intuition a scary thing.

A barely audible hum broke the moment’s silence between us, and she reached into her pocket. I had to hide my smile, for only a half dozen, if that, people knew her number on off hours. She flipped open one of those new portable phones and started speaking.

“Yes?” A pause, her eyes narrowed slightly as the person identified themselves, “Yes he’s here too… After action meeting, so to speak… Thought as much…” She frowned, turning her Asian face into some thing that reminded me of a frowning guardian statue, “You’re not… But…” A sigh, “He better not wreck my car again… we’ll get started when he arrives then.” And she disconnected the call with an irritated thumb and folded the phone closed. “We have a job.”

I was the picture of calm when I raised an eyebrow at her.

“They sent help as well, and he should be here tomorrow some time, depending on how fast he can run here from down town.” She continued, standing suddenly, picking up and putting her sword, a near mirror to mine, expertly through a hoop in her belt. “I’ll be here at ten, and if I have to drag you out of bed, I will be very upset with you.”

I took her comment in stride as I picked up my own sword and followed her as she made her way to the door. “Who’s coming to help? Anyone I know?” I asked, remembering just in time that my bathrobe’s belt would not hold my sword.

Her answering smile was just a little bit frightening, “I’ll let you meet him how I did.” She said, her smile fading to a frown, “Without much warning and right after I woke up.” We reached the mud room and she started putting her shoes on, “Good job, by the way, with the interrogation.”

“You were listening?” I asked, surprised.

“No, but you weren’t arrested.” She replied, “See you at ten. And he likes his food raw, if you can help it.”

She looked at my puzzled face, but didn’t add anything further before leaving.

After the door had closed, and I heard her car rumble away, I took a moment to do a small victory dance. Sword in hand, bathrobe half spinning free, I danced my way upstairs to my bedroom.

I will not speak for everyone, in the company I work for, but myself, and many of the people I know who DO work for them, are like myself. If not a mage or wizard, they are special. Be it a creature that goes bump in the night, who wants to do something constructive with their existence, a human who has more than nature’s norm when it comes to the supernatural, or even animals who talk, our branch of the Phoenix Corporation deals with those supernatural things that normal people should hopefully never have to deal with.

The first mission is special you see. Provided you survive, you get ‘free agent’ status. The ability to take on their ‘special’ jobs as you please, and no longer have a senior agent looking over your shoulder to make sure you are following the rules. Maybe even take on a junior agent of your own.

With thoughts of grandeur, I went to sleep.

I had hoped to get a good sleep, but I awoke on the floor of my bedroom tangled in the plain black sheets as if the horror of my dream were a giant squid. Through hazy senses, I heard a heavy banging on the door down stairs. I looked to my dresser, the only other furnishing in my room, and read what the clock said.

A little before seven in the morning. I heard the banging again, the strength behind it sounding impatient. I dressed quickly, and headed down stairs, dressed casually, but not like a slob. If this was Kodori’s ‘help’ I didn’t want to make a bad impression. I hung my sword on my plain leather belt and answered the door after who ever was banging on it stopped.

“Hello?” I said, opening the door and looking out, not spotting anyone at first.

“Down here mister!” said an energetic voice from just under my field of view.

I opened the door and looked down, spotting the source of the voice and dreadful banging noise. I felt my expectations of a pleasant morning vanish when I saw him. Looking to be about ten years old, with a short shaggy mop of tawny hair on his head, stood a boy. Four feet tall, lean muscled, with a mostly flattened chunk of concrete in one hand and nothing else. Kodori was right to be annoyed, if this is how she first met him. I waved him inside with a look of dismay at the collection of dents the boy had left in my door. “So you’re the one they sent?”

“Yup!” He said, his accent making me think English wasn’t his first language, even though he looked to be of European background. “Big sister said that I would know where you lived when I got there. And to make sure I got inside as fast as possible.” He put down the lump of masonry he had been using, “I don’t suppose you’ve got anything to eat? I was told not to stop for food on the way, and I’m starving!”

“Want some clothes too?” I asked as the boy walked by me, sniffing the air. “I’m Daeore, by the way.” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, while feeling my usual morning groove vanishing in this boy’s sudden arrival.

“I’m Murr!” He said, turning suddenly and offering a grubby hand.

I shook it without hesitation, and felt an almost electric hum travel up my arm from the boy’s hand, not to mention a few small pebbles grinding into my palm.

“You’re not human, are you?” I said, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it, to judge how forward the boy was about what ever gift he had.

“Nope!” He said, looking around, then sniffing the air again and walking onwards towards the kitchen.

I shrugged and followed him, “What do you eat, normally?”

“Meat, live if I’m allowed to hunt, raw if not, and cooked if I really gotta.” He answered, before stopping in his tracks at the kitchen door, “You got a really big spider on your counter…” He didn’t want for my reply, and started to hunker down, his legs shifting slightly.

I realized what he was about to do an instant after he did it, and watched through Mr.Skitters’s eyes as the little boy sailed through the air towards him.

“Wait! That’s my friend!” I yelled as Skitters jumped out of the way, landing on one of the fridges, only to be followed by the boy, who had turned almost completely in mid air, ready to leap again when he landed on the counter, “He’s supposed to be here!” I called out again amid the crash of dishes and the rumbling wobble of the fridge as the boy landed atop it, again following my spider’s retreat across the room. “Stop!” I called again, the fridge almost falling over as the boy jumped off towards the cupboards. My words went unheeded as more dishes broke as Murr landed on the counter again.

I felt my tolerance reach the breaking point, and I reached out with my power. I extended a hand, focusing my mind on what I wanted to accomplish, and made a swatting motion.

Obeying my will, the air over Murr’s head compressed, became almost solid, and swatted him out of the air in mid leap. My magical equivalent of a rolled up newspaper diverted his leap towards the floor, where he rolled once and stopped, upside down, fetched up against the wall. He looked up at me with a look of pure innocence. “What happened?”

I didn’t answer, but called Mr.Skitters over to me with a thought. He was all too happy to hop onto my head and glare at Murr with me. “Murr, this is my friend, Mr.Skitters. You do not pounce him.”

He brushed off my attempt at being stern, and rolled to his feet expertly. “You used magic, didn’t you?”

I nodded, raising an eyebrow.

“Kodori doesn’t use magic like that. She just pins me and tells me to stop.” He grinned, “Her way is more fair.”

I mirrored his smile, “I have more patience than her. Anyhow. You’re hungry, right?”

He nodded at me eagerly, “Yes please!”

“Wash your hands, and I’ll look for some thing.”

I opened the second fridge, and the secondary door inside for the freezer. “I wasn’t sure, so it might take some time to thaw.” I said, finding a foil wrapped length of ribs some where near the back. I took it out and turned, holding it up for the kid to observe it, “How much?”

I had hardly finished talking when a large tawny coloured feline head, with impressive jaws, bit down on the center of the foil bundle and plucked it out of my grasp. Some tearing of foil later, the nearly two meter long cat to whom the head belonged to, started crunching the frozen length of ribs.

I was shocked, not so much at the kid being a were-creature, but at him being what looked like a mountain lion, who’s shoulder came close to my hip. It made my kitchen seem very small. “Well, no problem then.” I muttered, taking a look at the rest of the kitchen. “I’ll just clean up while you eat.”

I got a throaty grumble in acknowledgment, and set myself to cleaning up the mess Murr’s romp about my kitchen made. A few broken dishes, some mud, and a very frightened spider seemed to be the list, so I put the plug in the nearest of the double sinks, and swept all the broken bits of plate into it.

It felt a little early in the morning for magic, but I didn’t want to replace the dishes Murr had broken. They were my father’s and I could make an exception. I looked at the fragments of the plain brown rimmed white plates, and started to gather my focus.

A deep breath can do wonders for a person. People have written books on the many merits of proper breathing, and my master seemed to have memorized them all. Ignoring the mess, the crunching of bones, the happy growls, I shut out everything but myself, and the fragments of plate in the sink.

I pictured what the plate looked like, whole and unbroken, and let my will put the broken plate together, to fit it to what my mind’s eye saw. Every shard and chip fit itself back into place, following the fingers I created from my will and the air around me.

Holding the whole plate together with my mind, I started to excite the air around the plate itself, melting the potter’s glaze and filling in the cracks, fusing the plate together as if it had been new.

With a sigh, I looked up from my work, and put clean plate next to my newly fixed one. “Almost perfect.” I said to the plate, before looking down to where Murr was still busy crunching on his meal. “I’ll make sure to thaw out your next meal for you.”

The mountain lion rumbled at me again, and I put the plates away.

Dressed, and looking uncomfortable in one of my spare bath robes, Murr and I waited for Kodori to arrive. I tried a few times to convince him to sit still and chat, but had to settle for him wandering around my dojo, looking at all my equipment.

“So, you’re a mountain lion?” I asked, as Murr prowled about my exercise equipment.

“Yup!” He replied, sniffing at a bench, “Ohhh, Kodori was here.”

“She comes here every so often, when she wants to let off steam, and not fear for hurting anyone.” I replied.

“I think she is always angry. But she is the nicest demon I’ve ever met!” He replied, moving to another bit of equipment, “Hm, you don’t use this much.”

“So you know then?” I was surprised, though, thinking about it, I shouldn’t have been. I had heard that were-creatures were sensitive to supernatural things. “How can you tell? That she’s a demon, I mean.” It was easy to tell when Kodori was angry.

“She smells…” He paused his inspection of a staff, to screw his face up in thought, “Strong, like spice and blood… Magic too, like you, but you’re smell is cleaner, stronger.” He was beside me in an instant, the staff falling to the floor, forgotten as he sniffed at me.

I blinked then shook my head, “Don’t worry about that. So what about you? Were you born here in Canada?”

He was off examining things again, working his way along my weapon wall, like a cat chasing tin foil, “Mom and dad came from a little south of here.” He paused and picked up a wooden sword, “But they are in a zoo now. I visit sometimes!” He waved the sword around like a club. “Rawr! Rawr!”

That explained why he sounded like English wasn’t his first language, and his lack of common manners. “So you lived in the zoo?”

“Until the giant found me!” He said, dropping the sword on the floor, and pouncing a long wooden weapon, “He had a BIIIIIIIIIIG sword, like this, only blue and silver.” He brandished a wooden claymore clumsily, “Actually, his was longer than this. He spoke to me like mom and dad do, and helped me figure out how to change.”

I couldn’t think of anyone who fit that description, “So he was with the company?”

“Yup!” I had to duck as he flailed about with the huge wooden sword.

“Speaking of silver…” I started, ducking again as the weapon whooshed by, “Are you like the wolves, and weak to it?”

He swing at me again, a huge grin on his face as I danced away from the swing, “Nope! I’m of the sun.” He swung again.

The moon, represented silver, affected many things. Not just were-creatures, but ghosts, and other ethereal creatures, it represented something like the light in the darkness. However, being ‘of the sun’ as Murr put it, meant gold was his weakness. I ducked away from another swing, “You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”

Murr only grinned wider as he swung again, “Kodori has usually started chasing me around by now.” I unhooked my sword’s plain wood and leather sheath from my belt, and swung it up to intercept the boy’s next swing. “Time to play now?” He asked eagerly.

“Wow.” I heard from the dojo’s entrance, as Murr, all three hundred or so pounds of mountain lion, got off my chest, and padded over to her. “Beaten by a ten year old. Maybe you aren’t ready yet.”

“He surprised me.” I answered, “Jumped at me as a ten year old, and landed on me as that!” I pulled myself off the floor and brushed myself off, “But I feel better about having him around now.”

Kodori looked down at Murr, who sat proudly next to her, “Good, because it’s time to get started.” She pointed a finger at the big cat’s nose, “You are not going to wreck my car this time, right?”

The proud cat suddenly looked sullen.

“Good. I brought you a change of clothes too, in case you have to be in public.” She looked up at me, “We have a few stops to make, but just in case, bring your kit.”