Shade of Exposure (Three)

Thirteen

Thirteen:

Considering that we were likely the first immortals they ever spoke to; the higher-ranking officers and enlisted men were not at all subtle about trying to force us to stick around and play a thousand questions with them.

I pointed out the poisoned nails and teeth bit about the zombies and instructed them to wear full body armor if they plan to keep engaging the dead in battle. After that, and the blast of follow-up questions once the tide of dead was abated, I managed to make my exit leaping off the street and atop a small apartment building a block over from my own.

Mainly, the issue seemed to be the number of humans now fighting on the streets. Add to that the camera crews braving the icy battlefield in hopes of catching a shot of something supernatural or immortal, and well, it was a literal perfect storm in the making.

“Hannah, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Spencer exclaimed, and she landed on the roof next to me with a gentle thump. Her raven and green hair swished through the icy wind. Despite being born on another world, and having natural green hair, Spencer Kacey was the closest genetic connection I had in this universe. Aside from my monstrous fifth-dimensional father, of course.

“Hey, there sister sledge, what’s got you all worked into a frenzy?”

I asked, and Spencer seemed to pause for a moment, and then she gathered her thoughts.

“Look, I heard all the BS that went down, so I insisted that I reach out to you as a friend. Look, Grendel and my entire unit are going to hit the warehouse we spotted Skylark tracking the death expressionists in to. I just figured you would want to come, also, Grendel said she needed to speak with you on some unrelated matter, unofficially, of course.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed watching the heat vaporize in the air.

“I’m not beholden to any of the Hidden leaders.”

I told her, trying to keep from sounding like a rebellious teenager.

“Yeah, trust me, I know that. If you ask me, they are lucky you didn’t burn the damn place down, considering how dirty they just did you.”

Spencer said, and I could see the ferocious edge of defense in her eyes. We were not family at all, yet we both felt a deep connection in that we were the only ones of our kind here, and each of us shared similar ancestry. The succubae were supposedly sired by a long distant shade. For two beings of a chaotic ancestry stranded on a world that looks down its nose on us, we feel a profound resonance with each other, even if our paths have diverged. Spencer works as a detective with the Hidden immortal police force in New York. Me, well, I suppose I am more of a lone wolf and her nix vanguard.

“I’m really busy trying to keep these zombies from scratching more humans right now. Besides, not sure you heard, but the cat is out of the bag, and the humans are starting to circle us curiously. It’s not smart to be seen near me right now.”

I told her and Spencer gave me a look of obstinance. Her unmoving conviction finally stirred me, and I threw up my hands and said, “Fine, I’ll talk to her, just make sure that damn king isn’t anywhere nearby, or I might just burn something after all.”

Spencer smirked darkly, and she seemed to reflect my sentiment, even if she had discovered a different path. I also assume her proximity to Grendel gave her a much wider berth with Siegfried. Grendel was an established leader of the magi of earth. She was the first of their kind, to the best of my knowledge, and the de facto queen of sorts.

“For whatever it is worth, I don’t think Grendel is at all happy with Siegfried in his snap reaction. She still wishes to be on good terms with you, you’re the only sane shade, that makes you valuable to have on side, yeah?”

She said, and her faux-English accent seemed to flare up. Part of me kept wondering how on earth she managed to develop such a British sounding pitch and dialect, whilst being raised in New York. Spencer had only told me once and briefly that her au pair was British or something like that.

“Yeah, well bully for king musty pants. Tell Grendel I’ll come, but mostly just to watch as the necromancers get chomped on by Sky. I doubt even Grendel can manage to make Skylar stand down on a dragon-fueled rage. Girl loves to get her rampage on when the situation calls for it.”

Spencer sniggered and nodded, then she waved for me to follow her.

“We should head out. I’ve got an SUV parked around the block, the opposite direction of your apartment, so we can make a clean getaway.”

She informed me, and I shrugged and waved her to lead me on. Spencer leaped nimbly from balcony-to-balcony, to hit the street in less than ten seconds. Her life had been quite different than mine in that she always knew she was a Succubus. She grew up learning how to control her abilities to some extent, so she always had a slight edge over me not just in being a few years older, but also being more experienced and educated on the immortal community at large. Even still, she was relatively as isolated as I was, simply in a different way.

When we climbed into the comfortably warm SUV minutes later Spencer turned and looked at me.

“I’m sure there is no danger of spotting Siegfried above ground soon unless he is considering meeting with the mortal authorities. I have not heard anything to suggest he is yet. Besides, Grendel usually handles the day-to-day affairs for Hidden above ground.”

Spencer explained, and I shrugged and said nothing, but filed that information away for later use.

“Did you guys notice a change in the zombie horde?”

I asked, not tainting the question with any further information. Spencer’s eyes flashed with worry and she nodded vigorously.

“You noticed they appear to be under control again.”

I nodded and she sighed.

“Bloody hell, it’s like another Litch is rising or something. We’re at a loss as to how or what we can do to stop matters. We’ve barely managed to get anywhere with the few living—such as they are—necro lords we have captured.”

“Something is going on, that’s for sure.”

My eyes were on the massive, blackened clouds above the city. Between another rising Litch, and an icy city being dumped on with more than what seemed natural even in New York in winter, ominous didn’t even cover half of what I was perceiving. Something almost seemed to churn in the ashy sky, like power being circulated in an incomprehensible level that my eyes perceived, yet I could not begin to make sense of what I was sensing.

“What exactly are you looking at?”

I turned to Spencer and tilted my head.

“I would prefer you to describe what you see. Look at the clouds.”

Spencer frowned and she shook her head.

“Just focus, and give it a minute, please, humor me.”

I urged her, and she gave me a cryptic look but seemed to opt to oblige me, despite my seeming lunacy.

“Feck me…”

She exclaimed in a dark tone, and she turned back to me.

“That’s the expression, a feck ton of it, like nothing I’ve ever seen before! How did I miss this until now?!”

She asked, more to herself than to me, but I answered anyway.

“I’ve been trying to puzzle out why the storm was bothering me for days, but now I am certain, it is not a natural storm.”

Spencer finished in a dire tone, “Someone is fueling it with expression. This is power unparalleled!”

I nodded in agreement. Spencer was the only other being in this entire world with spectral sight almost the same as mine. Our perception of reality was far different than normal immortals. We were like high-functioning autistic women in our community. Personally, I don’t see that as a bad thing, since autism also accompanies higher IQ and broader spectrums of comprehension. In every way that mattered to me, being a shade made me better at everything I did. Despite the hysteria surrounding my species, I have begun to view my differences as benefits, not handicaps. However, being different comes with a heavy toll to pay. Mainly, most “normal” beings will shun you, and isolate you. It also raises the whole blame the shade game, that people like to play, much how the Nazis once tried to blame their victims for the atrocities they committed. Anyone who believes me to be too dramatic has never been persecuted for being different.

“Well, I suddenly have a new reason to willingly go speak to Grendel.”

I said, and Spencer nodded, she seemed to be frustrated that she had not noticed the expression until I pointed it out. That was to be expected since none of us were expecting a massive maelstrom of power to be actively woven over our heads. Beings are so prone to convince themselves they are safe and sound in their little isolated realities, cut off from all the dangers outside. We often forget our intrinsic connection to everything in the world, and our obvious connection to the sky above us, so accustomed to it being relatively safe for us. Our comfort lulls us into a false sense of comfort and security. It’s not until chaos strikes our threshold, that we are jarred back into the reality of death which is ever looming over our heads like the last cosmic punchline we’ll ever know.

“Can we drive any faster?”

She asked the driver, an armored male with a golden badge on his chest around a chain. I had never seen that mesh-up before, but the immortal detectives were colorful. They all seemed to have different period looks depending on the fancy of the individuals. Many used holographic camouflage to make themselves appear normal to humans, but often still dressed as bizarrely as one might expect from beings who were born in varying different ages of earth’s development.

“Sure, if the goal is to slide off the road and end up hoofing it the rest of the way, sure.”

The man said in a thick Brooklyn accent, which seemed very off with his appearance. He’d spent a lot of time in this area to have allowed it to soak into his linguistics. Immortals can adapt and immolate the behaviors and customs of the land they reside in, despite how far-flung it may be from the site of their births. I knew this to be true because I too could blend if I wished, but I usually seemed to end up the ass of the joke and held at a very wide arm’s length.

“Well, on the bright side, at least it’s unlikely that a crash would kill us. Assuming you’re not fragile either detective Lancelot.”

I said, and he snorted and smirked into the rearview mirror.

“I like you kid, you’ve got moxy. Don’t ever let these clowns make you change.”

He said, and I felt myself smiling despite myself. Detective Lancelot was a gentleman and a true New Yorker, even if he still looked awkward as hell to my spectral sight. It was difficult for me to allow the illusions they used to fool humans, to mask the truth beneath my eyes. I almost had to close my eyes completely, just to pretend they had a normal human looking dress appearance in their holo images.