The Blood Market Chapter 7

We stood on the roof of Harbinger's office staring up at the stars in the night sky and enjoying the clean air. I felt my head clearing. Harbinger hovered near me, looking contrite and ashamed.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked, "The pipe smoke is mildly psychodelic. I use it to aid my astral projection. I should have known not to smoke it with somebody else present, but I never had somebody sharing the space and didn't think about that. I'm sorry for that. I'm so very sorry. I promise you that this roof top will be my smoking zone going forward."

I shook my head, "I don't want to force you out of your office."

"Our office," He corrected, "And I don't want to aggravate still healing wounds of yours."

"I was talking in my sleep wasn't I?"

"You weren't asleep by the end of it, you were awake, just hallucinating. You were still in your shadowlands. That is to say that you brought the dream world into the waking world. And yes, you were talking, but no harm. The divination was pointless. It just kept pointing me back to the Sheriff Station. No help there. They shot themselves after all, and so the ritual fixated on that."

"Or there's no such thing as magic and your subconscious only had that location to point you back to, like a glorified ouja board," I said.

"Not much difference either way thought, is there? Either its useful or its not. If it's useful I don't care how it works. That said, I am confident that the lode stone ritual that I worked on the rosary will cause it to lead us to the next clue in this little mystery in due course."

"Meaning that when we find our next clue, you'll give credit to this ritual?"

"We need to work on your sense of fun Dahlia. Life is largely out of our individual control, especially now that the golden age is long past. Once upon a time human beings could split the atom and fly in space and lay down vast computer networks that spanned the globe. Now, we pray that the monsoon season won't destroy too much of last year's work. With so little control people will always turn to coping mechanisms, religion or the occult or gambling or folk superstition. You take refuge in the Buddha. I take refuge in spells and rituals. They both have the same effect on our ability to cope. I don't mock the sutras."

I nodded, "I'm sorry. When you put it that way, mocking seems awfully petty."

Harbinger smiled, "Think nothing of it. Everyone does it until they need a purification ritual or a divination or an exorcism. Speaking of which. I have been called upon on this late hour. I have been asked to banish a spirit or exorcise a demon depending upon what is actually responsible. Would you like to come with me while the smoke dissipates from the office? Spend an evening watching me work the mumbo jumbo side to my profession?"

I smiled, "While I don't have anything better to do. Unless I want to sleep up here."

"Wonderful. Let's get moving."

The streets of Sticktown were never empty. After dark the streets simply shed their legal activities in favor of less savory past times. Men and women sold their bodies from around pubs and taverns who were open late. Alleyways filled with sellers of illicit drugs or stolen goods and these venders spilled out onto larger main roads. I received several offers from both men and women promising evenings filled with carnal pleasure as we walked from the baker's district to fancier neighbourhoods, several more offers for medicinal ingredients sure to make me forget all problems, at least one offer to make people who had crossed me cease their breathing, and one offer let me lash a young man to vent my anger for a modest fee.

"This is what I fought to protect," I commented as we marched on through the press of humans selling less than legal goods and services.

"It's kind of spectacular, isn't it?" Harbinger said as we approached a fancy nouveau riche neighbour hood, with properties built new to look old and stately. As we approached the home I noticed a young man leaning against wall beside the service entrance, obscured by shadows.

"Rudy." Harbinger called, as we approached," You made it. Excellent."

I looked at Rudy as we closed. He appeared young, short for a man and of slight build, but dressed very confrontationally, in a military surplus leather aviator jacket, cavalry boots and a patrol cap from the military uniform of the Mayan Free States to the South. Rudy carried a steel walking stick, clearly intended to intimidate, and wore fingerless gloves with steel caps on the knuckles. The aviator jacket hung open and I noticed a white t-shirt underneath it made of heavier cloth than most people would have worn in dry season. Rudy's skin was a dark ruddy cocoa color, suggesting both African American and Native American heritage. His hair was kept in long corn rows on top and tied back into a ponytail, but shaved on the sides- again keeping with his confrontational style

"Dahlia," Harbinger continued as we approached, "This is Rudy Armitage."

"Rudy Kintpuash Armitage," Rudy corrected.

"Yes, indeed," Harbinger said, "Descended from the legendary Modoc Chief Captain Jack, a ka Kintpuash. He heads up my Spirit Band. Those agents on the streets and in the Ring who make me look as though I have supernatural powers when I talk to rich people. He's a skilled photographer and has a dark room hidden away where he is able to develop his own film." Harbinger chuckled, "Rudy's camera is one of my biggest business expenses, but well worth it. Rudy, this is Dahlia Crowe, my new partner and or apprentice and daughter of an old old friend of mine."

"If you're chill with Mr. Harbinger, then you're chill with me." Rudy reached out and offered a hand for me to shake, and I noticed something bunching strangely under his shirt. Initially I assumed the bunching must be from a concealed weapon, but as I took Rudy's hand I realized that the bunching was from a cloth binding across Rudy's chest. As we shook hands Rudy noticed my stare.

"Chest binding is cheaper than hormones and surgery." Rudy said, tugging absently at the bindings through his shirt. "Physical transition is only an option for the super rich these days. But they say back before the fall anyone could make their insides and their outsides match. We still know how to do it, just that nobody can afford it. You okay with that, or do we have to make something of it?"

I nodded, "A lot of things were easier before the fall. You and I are both lucky we live here and not the Bannerlands."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," Rudy said, "I was born in the Bannerlands. A serf bonded to the land. No different than a slave, so I said Sayonara and I ran away. There's still a bill for my recovery. Not a warrant, because I was a serf- a bill. Like I'm stolen goods. But that's okay, that's why I work with Mr. Harbinger. It's like Tennyson says; 'I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.' So what about you? Why would you be less than lucky in the Bannerlands, white lady?"

"My romantic interests scare the sensibilities of the Bannerland Preachers." I said.

Rudy nodded and clapped me on the back, "So you're lucky that you were born here, and I'm lucky I ended up here. So that makes us kin. Anyway, now that we're all kin, I got what I could on that killing at the docks. Somebody doesn't want nobody looking into that thing though, they had it wrapped up tighter than a witch being water tested. But I have my big old varifocal zoom lens don't I?"

"What did you see?"

"I saw somebody with that red tattoo you described, moving a bunch of people around the docks. I thought you said they were locked down?"

"Apparently my sister has mislead me on that fact."

"Saw a bunch heavy boys too; all Sons of Perun from the look of the viking wannabe rune tattoos. They seemed to think they were in charge, but the Chinese lady with the tattoo didn't seem pleased with that idea. None of my guys were close enough to hear anything, and cameras have no ears."

"And so you say that the operation was still in force? The smugglers were still smuggling, the human traffickers were still trafficking and so forth and such and such?" Harbinger asked.

"I am telling you exactly that. Oh yeah, and there was a cop. Kept the stetson on, so I couldn't tell who from my position on the hill, downward angle of the shot and all that. I think it was a woman, pretty big- but most of the female deputies are. I don't how little Sheriff Hurley keeps them in line."

I furrowed my brow and frowned at Rudy's comment.

"Hurley keeps them in line by having a congenial nature and the social skill to call upon people across all sections and levels of Sticktown society. She is a perfectly fine cop, but she would make a much better diplomat, and and even better bar tender. So my sister has lied to me about the operation being shut down, and the Sheriff has a large rodent on her pay roll. Neither of these things bodes well for our investigation. Rudy, Find out where the people who are being smuggled are to taken. What happens to them after they arrive? Follow the trail, we need to climb the ladder of power and find somebody substantial to hand over to my sister and her commanding officer."

Rudy nodded and slipped away. Harbinger turned back to the door of the house.

"This is the home of Abigail Darrington. The family has heard thumping that they think is a poltergeist." Harbinger said as we stood at the steps looking up at the ornate house.

"And a poltergeist is a ghost, correct?" I asked.

"The name comes from the German for a noisy ghost," Harbinger answered, "Poltergeists typically move objects, rattle windows, knock of picture frames, make noises in empty rooms or inside the walls. The scary noises and things moving around that show up in your typical campfire ghost story would be described by a paranormal scholar or occultist as poltergeist activity."

"Any chance that it's just mice in the walls?" I asked, as politely as I could manage.

"That's where I usually start," Harbinger answered, "I've had them leave out mouse traps, and test for settling in the foundation. There certainly may turn out to be an entirely non-occult source to their problems. That happens more often than actual supernatural activity. But if the client can't make the phenomena stop through exoteric means, then I will resort to esoteric means."

"So what do you do with poltergeists?"

"Well according to the writings of Allan Kardec, he founded Spiritism back before the fall, I some of his writings, nothing original of course, but still I do have a copy of one of his works which precedes the Fall. I'm sorry, yes, according to Mr. Kardec, poltergeists are low level spirits attempting to manifest or partially manifesting in the material plane. They belong to the sixth class of the third order, quasi-elemental in nature. So a simple banishing ritual for more powerful elements such as the Druidic spirit of the dragon ought to do the job just fine. Of course, also possible is psychokinesis."

"Which is?"

"A member of the family or another house guest moving objects with their mind, either accidentally or intentionally. In which case, the banishing ritual will not work, and there's a good chance that I'll feel the lack of resistance to the banishing. In which case, I will need to determine, through the use of Zener cards, who among the people present has psychic ability."

"And if neither of those work?"

"Then hopefully by then we will have new leads that we can investigate. Now, shall we begin. Let me do the talking."

I nodded and refrained from rolling my eyes, "No danger there."

Harbinger struck the door knocker three times soundly. After a few moments, the door opened and a matronly woman who appeared to be in her fifties ushered us in.

"Mr. Harbinger, I presume," she said as we stepped into the house.

"Hello Ladies, I am indeed Professor Freeman Harbinger; occultist and exorcist and I do believe that somebody in this house has requested my services. My man, Mr. Armitage delivered your message and I am here to help. This is my associate and lady at arms: Dahlia Crowe, formerly of her Majesty's Dragoons and a brilliant hand with a sabre should the danger prove rather more corporeal than preternatural.  And, of course, we are at your service."

Behind the older woman stood three girls, perhaps young woman would be better descriptions. They were all attractive, and I found myself staring a little. They were likely a few years younger than me, but not too many years younger. I stopped, and asked myself what I was thinking. Was I thinking about dating again? Because my previous relationship did not suggest that I should be looking for somebody else to date. But that didn't mean I couldn't look.

The young woman before me was entirely unlike Violetta in appearance and posture and demeanor, and I would not complain about this. Victoria stood nearly a foot shorter than me, maybe five foot one inch in heels.

"Hello, my name is Victoria, my mother requested your partner's services. How do you do?"

"I'm a little under the weather, I must confess. Something put me off." Suddenly feeling that I might have misspoke, I sought to correct my error, "Not here, of course. It's very nice, I mean except for your apparent ghost problem."

"Apparent?" She said with a smile that seemed to contain too much knowing.

"I'm sure Harbinger knows his business. He keeps me around, actually I think he's doing it out of pity." And then I realized I had said that out loud, "And my sword of course."

Victoria looked down and then leaned forward again, "It's a very large sword."

"Not really." I said stepping back," Standard size for a cavalry sabre."

Victoria stepped forward again, "And now I can't even make a joke about the other sword, becaus we're both girls."

I stepped back again and found that I was blushing.

"Dahlia," Harbinger called from the next room," Let's get started, come help me with my gear."

Still blushing at Victoria, who looked far too pleased with herself, I slipped past her and fled to the next room. My military upbringing meant that I've been surrounded by big strong men and women all of my life. I've dated women who look like I do, with strong physiques and broader shoulders- but my preference runs towards a more delicate woman. I suspect my preference emerged due to availability. Until my seventeenth birthday all of my girlfriends had been from the military and had been of similar build to myself. Newly single at my seventeenth birthday party, I had met an army Nurse named Isumi that a friend of mine had invited hoping we would hit off. As with most of my relationships, my relationship with Isumi did not last long, but the change in my taste in women did last. I ended up dating Violetta because she approached me. I have never been known for my assertiveness in relationships. Violetta had been somebody I would have chosen as a drinking buddy and not as a girlfriend, had she not taken the initiative. Violetta had been somebody I would have chosen as a drinking buddy and not as a girlfriend, had she not taken the initiative.

I reached Harbinger and asked, "What can I do?"

"Catch your breath and stop blushing," He said quietly and winked, "She cornered you awfully quickly didn't she?"

I found myself blushing again, "She was flirting with innuendos meant for men," I said, matching his volume, "She's not interested. She's just flirting because, I don't know, why do girls flirt when they have no interest? Power?"

"You were interested." He commented handing me a bundle of grasses tied in crimson twine with cheap clay charms knotted into the twine.

"She is very cute," I admitted, "That's interesting. But even if she might be interested, dating on the rebound rarely works out well."

"You won't know unless you try," Harbinger said and handed my the wooden bowl, still smelling of his pipe smoke. I suppressed a retch at the smell, "Your father sent you to me to help you get back on your feet and find yourself. So rather than ask what is a good idea or what might work, maybe ask yourself what you want out of life. What do you want?"

I paused. The question hung in the air. As I chewed on the question I noticed Victoria had slipped into the room. How long had she been there? I tried to ignore the possibility that she'd heard everything I'd just said, and considered Harbinger's question.

"I had a place in the army," I said slowly, "I had a purpose. I had family. I belonged. The Ashland Incident took all of that away from me. The only way that I could honor my purpose and my family while on maneuvers in the Ashlands was to act against my superiors. And for that I lost my place. I had to give up what I was in order to defend it. And now I'm lost. I'm adrift. I don't have a place. I'm a ghost in a great coat."

"I hadn't expected my new assistant to be quite the romantic." Harbinger said.

I waved away his comment, but then stumbled. My sense of balance shifted and I reached for something to steady myself.  My stomache lurched and I missed the chair back I had attempted to grab, and suddenly found myself kneeling on the floor.

"Are you alright?" Victoria asked.

"I'm afraid that's likely my fault," Harbinger said, "I use a psychoactive pipe weed for my astral projections. It inadvertently projected Dahlia somewhere unpleasant. Well done on not dropping my equipment though."

I handed him back the grass and the bowl, "What he means is that I got an accidental and very unpleasant drug trip. And that I'm still apparently recovering from it."

"I'll boil you some tea." Victoria said.

I shook my head, "Don't waste the wood. I'll be fine."

"Oh, we don't use wood." She smiled, "We have solar cookers and photovoltaics for our electricity. Wood is for people who don't have money."

I shook head in disbelief. Then I pulled myself to my feet to follow her as she slipped out the door. I waited, unsure how to proceed. She returned in short order, before I time to put my thoughts in order and clear my head. I took the tea and sipped carefully. We watched as Harbinger carried his wooden bowl with the mystic looking symbols from room to room. He had placed a bundle of sweet smelling herbs in the bowl that he had lit on fire. He held the bowl in his left hand and dangled a charm necklace of some sort from his right hand as he walked from room to room, stopping in each room and closing his eyes while the family watched with trepidation.

I rolled my eyes, and then felt guilty given Harbinger's speech on the office roof. Not wanting to seem or be seen to be dismissive of my new partner's tactics, I wandered back to the first room where the family had indicated that they had heard the strange noises.

"It's probably just rats in the walls," I said to myself, "New homes are made from old materials, old materials come with the vermin pre-installed."

"Oh this isn't a new home," Victoria said suddenly standing just behind and to my right with a far too innocent expression. I leaped forward and nearly drew my sabre before I registered who had spoken. "Does your friend really believe in that crazy old witchcraft?"

I composed myself as best I could and then said,"I'm not sure whether he believes in it or simply thinks its useful because it tends to work for him. I'm also not sure what difference it would make to be honest. He's crazy, but everyone seems to think that he knows what he's doing." I stopped, realizing I was babbling, and thought about what Victoria had just said about the age of the home, "So this isn't one of those trendy homes designed to look old?"

"No. It was built right after the Banner Wars. But you're probably right about the  whole thing being rats or mice in the wall. I just hope I don't have to see them." She shivered and shook her lace covered hands in disgust.

I narrowed my eyes, and bit my lip, "How old did you say? Never mind, you said that- the Banner War. Years, decades! More than long enough. Plenty of time for other vermin to accumulate."

"What kind of other vermin?" Victoria asked, taking a slow step away from me, "I don't  like vermin."

"Big kinds of vermin," I said smiling huge gaping smile, suddenly realizing how mad I must look, I wiped the smile off my face, "Sorry, that sounded creepy. But I can explain. Can you show me where your mother first heard the noises, the loud ones she went to investigate? I'll flush out some vermin for us."

"You just be this excited just because I said the house is old."

"Not just old. Big and old, built in a time when fancy houses were filled with escape routes and hidden rooms to hide from marauding Bannerboys."