Page 12 of Etched in Stone
FR E L INR AY
Ray had not survived over a thousand years on this planet without being able to recognize that someone was bad news, and there was no question in his mind that the fat little man in the yellow suit was definitely bad news. The only question was how bad.
He was itching to answer that question, but he he had to wait until late evening before heading out to the Evensong. It was half bar, half nightclub, half speakeasy for every freak and fetish loving soul out there. During the day, it was a low key place to grab a sandwich or a pub lunch, but at night, when they turned on the neon and the black light, every type of weirdo came in for a drink. This, of course, meant that Ray fit right in, camouflage or not. He'd been in more than once without it, and everyone had just assumed he was high into the body mods or liked dressing in gargoyle drag every so often.
No one would ask questions, so it was the perfect place for someone like Ray’s contact, Giles, to set up shop.
He was officially a bartender and was pretty good at actually making some colorful and potent cocktails, but his main specialty was keeping track of the occult underground. He had his pulse on what was going on in the spaces between the cracks. He knew which organizations were active and what the chatter was about. Officially, Evensong and Giles were neutral territory, but Ray got the feeling Giles would keep a secret unless there was an innocent about to be harmed.
When the assholes like the Rose Syndicate crossed the line, Giles and his buddies guided certain parties to them and pulled invisible strings to make their plans go awry. As long as there had been a Rose Syndicate, Ray suspected there had been a counter intelligence group to keep them in check.
They had no official name, but it was a friend of a friend of Giles that had helped Ray cross the pond and disappear into the wilds of New York after the war.
Tonight, Giles was sporting a blue Mohawk and a pair of cat-eyed red glasses. Together with his black tank top, full sleeve tattoos, and five earrings, he was rocking a very distinct look.
“Well, look who's here. Mr. Antisocial. I've been wondering where you'd gotten yourself off to,”
he said to Ray.
“You've got my number,” Ray said as he slid onto the bar stool. “I assume you still have thumbs to send a text.”
Giles stuck his tongue out and then glanced from side to side, as if to check if there was anyone
listening. It was still early, so most of the crowd hadn't arrived yet.
“There's a rumor mill going around,” Giles continued, “that someone in your general vicinity got an entire can of blue paint dropped on their head today.”
Ray just squinted at Giles. “Did it have anything to do with this guy?” Ray said, pulling out and showing Giles a screen grab from the elevator security camera.
“Pablo. My, my, my. If that guy is Pablo, you're in for more trouble than I thought.”
“Who is he?”
“The current rumor is that he's the newly hired Rose gun. And he doesn't pull punches. Straight out sociopath. I'd give him a wide berth.”
“Pablo have a last name?”
“Pablo is just Pablo. That's why he's so dangerous.”
People with only one name thought they could get away from anything. They'd spent so much time running and hiding that real legitimate systems hadn't caught them yet. If Pablo didn't have a paper trail, an arrest record, then there was no guaranteeing that he could be stopped and arrested by normal means.
Giles shook his head and pulled out his phone. “Now I got a question for you,” he said. “What is this?” He slid his phone over to show a picture of an object Ray knew well.
“That is, well, have you ever seen Star Trek?”
Giles rolled his eyes and gave him a look that said, “duh.”
“We call it a sigil. It's a sort of com badge thingy. They don't work anymore. Haven't for a millennia.”
“Rose is all abuzz about them. Trying to reverse engineer one.”
“Good luck with that. They are relayed by a master beacon, and as far as I know, that's been under the ocean near France for forever.” Memories of his life aboard ship seem so distant they were practically a whisper of a dream. His species had a long memory, but even that was stretching thin.
“Just keep an eye on your tail. All signs point to the fact that they are up to something nefarious.
And I have grown to like these visits, as rare as they seem to be these days. You need to find another Olivia. The old girl was good for you. Got you out of the house,” Giles suggested.
Ray rolled his eyes. He didn't need dating advice from a human young enough to be his great great great grandchild. Besides, he'd already had the one great love of his lifetime, and he perfectly planned to ignore all the signs of a second. It was just his body's way of reacting to how similar Jesse looked compared to her great aunt. Jessenia, too, was a memory that was fast slipping away, being replaced with an image of Jesse in tight jeans and baggy sweaters covered in paint.
