Cole's Haunting Melody (The Gods' Executioner Series) (13 page)

“Airi, how far am I from the apartment?”

(87 meters)

Damn…
guess I’ll have to take the long way; I port back to Seattle, wait for a minute, engage my helmet so I won’t leave any hair at the crime scene, and port into the apartment. I sit down in a chair, and wait… After half of an hour, boredom takes over and I pull out my phone. I turn it on silent and text Ryuji.

Hey, how did things go with
Naia last night?

Amazing! W
e tried a bunch of positions from this book she found for couples with wings. We had sex on the fucking ceiling!

Wha
t? How do you even manage that?

It involved me holding her up and a lot of flapping…
I think I pulled a muscle because my left wing has been limp and useless all day.

Try ice perhaps…
I have to go. My mark is walking in the door.

Michael
Alejo walks in the door and I sit really still. He turns on a light, walks into his kitchen, and sets his groceries down without noticing me. I sweep around behind him and cover his mouth with my left hand at shoulder level.

“Mr.
Alejo. I believe you know who I am and what I’m capable of. Congratulations; you are the first step on the road to my systematic crippling of the Templars overnight. You will be giving me all the information you have on all Templars of high standing. This will not be your choice, of course; I just thought I’d let you know of your coming demise and that your friends will be joining you very soon.” I tell him with my creepily modulated voice before feeding my blood down his throat.

I drop his unconscious body to the ground and lay down beside him. It’s about time I got revenge for the harm they’ve done to my friends and family.

****

I see a blur of Michael
Alejo’s memories as I fast forward through them. The memory stream rolls to a stop on events that are from a few days ago. In the private booth of some lounge, a slender Caucasian man that is in his forties with white hair and grey-blue eyes sits across from me/Michael, wearing an all-black suit and a maroon tie. Judging by his relative height compared to Michael Alejo, I’d put him at about 6’4” tall.

“Feros
seems to be taking an extended stay in the Underworld as of late.” The man across the table says.

“Well
, we can’t exactly reach him if he’s in the Underworld, Mr. Evari.” Michael responds.

“Michael
, call me Jack. That is correct; we can’t reach him in the Underworld. However, that doesn’t mean that we can’t draw him out, or at the very least, harm him by harming those he cares for.” Jack Evari replies.

“Should we
give the order to attack the house again?” Michael asks.

“No, I have a better idea. Have that double agent in The Agency plant false information that the Templars have a sniper ready to take out
the Russian president during his visit in New York tomorrow. Feros has a friend who happens to be The Agency’s top counter-sniper, and killing her would deal another blow to Feros. Now, I have another meeting to get to.” Jack Evari says.

“I’ll tell The Council of Five about your plan in your stead.” Michael replies. So he must be Jack
Evari’s assistant and Jack must be the head of this Council.

Jack
Evari stands up and walks away while Michael sends a text that says:

False Report:
Templar sniper assassination of Russian president in New York

The
memories skip forward again, allowing me to hear the names and see the faces of the other four Council members before everything fades to black.

****

Chapter 13
: Systemic Execution

[November 5th]

I awaken on the kitchen floor, the stove clock indicating it to be midnight, but who knows if that damn thing is right since stove clocks are notoriously inaccurate. The body of Michael Alejo lays nearby, blood running from his ears, nose, and mouth; that’s to be expected when I practically ran the man’s internal organs through a blender using tiny silicon carbide blades, which should result in quite a bit of attention during the autopsy. I stand up, draw my .460 caliber handgun, eject the magazine, slide the custom bullet into the top of the mag, replace the mag back into the gun, chamber the custom round, and fire the round into Mr. Alejo’s head. His head explodes, splattering my jacket and jeans with blood; it’s a good thing that they are both black, and thus conceal blood well.

I move what remains of Michael
Alejo’s head to the side and see that the silicon carbide bullet seems to have penetrated into the hardwood flooring, but doesn’t appear to be fragmented like copper or lead would have. Ideally, the police will find the bullet and read the message, which will then be relayed to the Templars through their government connections. I want the Templars to be shitting their pants at the mere mention of my name after tonight. Not wanting to be around when the police show up, because someone in the building definitely heard the gun shot, I port back to Niflheim before calling Ryuji.

“Hello?”
Ryuji answers.

“Hey, I got the information on the heads of the Templars; they call themselves the Council of Five.” I inform him.

“How many members are there?” Ryuji asks.

“Five.” I reply.

“Oh, so it’s not one of those ironic names, like the nine Pieces of Eight.” Ryuji says.
2

“No, it’s not
, and a piece of eight is actually a silver Spanish dollar. Anyway, I’m planning on taking out the whole council before morning. I have names and faces, but no addresses.” I tell him.

“Alright, why don’t you come to my apartment and we’ll get some information on these guys
. Oh, you’ve never been here huh? The address is…” Ryuji replies.

“Alright, I’ll be there in a few.”
I say and hang up.

I use satellite maps to find an alleyway near Ryuji’s apartment building and I port there
. I walk around the building, ignoring Seattle’s trademarked drizzle, to the front of the newer downtown apartment that I realize isn’t all that far away from The Agency’s office. Ryuji’s name is on the directory so I press the call button and wait; the door clicks open a few seconds later and I head up to apartment 502.

“Hey Cole.
Please, come in.” Naia greets when she answers the door in her wing-modified flannel pajamas. I wasn’t aware that they had been living together, but it does make sense; where else was she going to go?

“Ryuji is back in his office.”
Naia says while walking away, indicating that I should follow.

Naia
leads me to Ryuji’s office, which looks more like a command center with all the computer monitors in here, along with two water-cooled desktops, a laptop, and a Mac Book. I look around and see that something Ryuji should have is completely missing.

“Hey,
Naia? Could you get me a glass of water please?” I ask to get her to leave the room.

“I wi
ll be right back.” Naia replies and exits Ryuji’s office.

“So what did you do with all your dating
sims and various paraphernalia?” I ask in a hushed tone.

“Reggie, another analyst, is hanging onto most of the stuff for me, but a few things I put in a safety deposit box.” Ryuji replies
in a similar fashion. I’m about to ask about the safety deposit box when Naia walks back in with a glass of water.

“Thanks.
Naia, how do you walk around here with your wings and all?” I ask.

“I use illusion magic to camouflage my wings and tail
. It takes a fair amount of concentration so I do not continue it when we are home.” Naia replies.

“What about you, Ryuji? You said you grew up in San Francisco so how did you keep your supernatural identity a secret?” I inquire.

“Dragons can take a human form, but like Naia’s illusion magic, it also requires quite a bit of concentration. My parents found another dragon in Chinatown and they taught me about being a dragon since my birth parents were supposed to, but didn’t. They taught me to conceal my wings and tail when I was seven years old and trained me so that I could keep it up long enough to go to school. They told me that I can also turn into a full dragon, but the ability won’t manifest itself until I hit my late twenties.” Ryuji explains.

“What about your adoptive parents? They’re imps, right?” I question.

“My parents don’t have any problems because an imp’s wings can fold in a certain way so as to be hidden, even by a t-shirt; and their tails are easily hidden in pants.” Ryuji answers.

“Huh…
so let’s get back on task. The five names are Winston Weatherly, Vera Minamoto, Regis Caputo, Alistair Tinpinny, and Jack Evari, who appears to be the leader.” I say as Ryuji’s fingers hit the keyboard in a flurry. Three minutes later, he has four bios pulled up, each on a different screen.

“Yeah, their
pictures correspond with the memories. What about Jack Evari?” I ask.

“
I can’t find anything on him… Are you sure the name is right?” Ryuji asks.

“Yeah, I’m positive
, but his last name may be spelled A-v-e-r-y; I only heard the name, but the E-v-a-r-i spelling came up in Michael Alejo’s mind.” I reply. A few minutes later, Ryuji pulls up about ten photos, but none of them match.

“Nope, it’s not any of them.” I say.

“I figured as much; none of the backgrounds fit with that of a Templar.” Ryuji responds.

“W
ell, what do we have on the others?” I inquire.

“It appears they were all in San Francisco on the 2nd; looks like we just missed them. Wi
nston Weatherly actually lives on the outskirts of San Francisco though. Here’s his address. According to building plans, his entire house is fortified enough to withstand a plane crashing into it. He has no family to speak of and lives alone.” Ryuji informs me.

“So an assassination from outside of the house is out of the question…
Looks like I’ll be going to pay him a visit. Can you keep looking for info on Jack Evari?” I request.

“Sure. I’ll keep you updated.” Ryuji
answers.

“Thanks.” I
reply and touch my Haglaz rune.

After
porting to Jason’s bedroom, I wait a minute before porting to Jericho’s armory. I slip a new glove onto my right hand and help myself to the use of Jericho’s reloading bench to make five messages.

(What would you like them to say?)

“1: How long did you think I would allow you 2: to harm my friends and family without retaliation? 3: Well this, this is my retaliation. 4: If you keep coming after me, 5: next time, I’ll kill every last Templar.”

Five bullets form in my left palm
, numbered on the tip. I take five .460 S&W rounds out of the box on the bench, dismantle them, and load my message bullets in the casings. I slip the rounds into my pocket, pull up maps of San Francisco on my phone, and enter in the address. It appears that Winston Weatherly’s house is near a forest, which is perfect for me. I touch my right shoulder, port to the forest, and pull out my spotter’s scope. Winston’s house is a large cylindrical concrete structure that looks not unlike a flying saucer due to the modern architecture. The light from a TV illuminates the living room through the windows that serve as walls; no doubt that they’re made of bulletproof glass.

I’m definitely more than a hundred meters away so I draw my .460, load in the first message bullet, engage my helmet, and port into the living room. Winston is startled by my sudden appearance and tips over his glass of scotch.

“Do you know the rumor that there’s a special circle of hell reserved for those who waste good scotch? I guess you’re about to find out whether or not it’s just a rumor.” I tell the forty year old man as he frantically reaches for the gun on his hip; I fire my message into Winston’s head before he can draw it. Since a couch doesn’t have the same ricocheting properties that a hardwood floor has, not a single drop of Winston’s blood gets on me.

Since Winston’s house is really far out of the way and I don’t want his body being found after the others, I pick up the
phone and dial 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?” the operator asks.

“I just killed someone in this house.” I say with my helmet-modulated voice and hang up.

Now, to plant some evidence that connects this and Michael
Alejo’s murder. I walk into the adjoined kitchen as the phone starts ringing. I grab a kitchen towel with my left hand and wipe off some of Mr. Alejo’s blood from my jacket. Now that that is taken care of, I touch my left shoulder blade and port back to Ryuji’s place.

“Next.” I
announce as I appear in his office.

“AH!”
Naia yelps and hops off of Ryuji’s lap, whilst topless.

“Sorry for interrupting.” I say while averting my eyes as
Naia locates her shirt.

“You weren’t!
Naia was just sitting on my lap to help me look for info on Jack Evari!” Ryuji exclaims in a nervous fashion, making completely obvious excuses.

“Topless?” I ask.

“She said she was hot!” Ryuji exclaims.

“This
is Seattle… and it’s November…” I argue, you know, just to be a dick.

“Alright
so Regis Caputo lives in the only penthouse of an upscale apartment in Chicago. He also lives there alone and seems to have done some private contracting on the windows; most likely bulletproof glass installation. There is also a security checkpoint in the lobby of the building and a card key is required for the elevator. You could requisition a key card cracker, but that won’t help with the security checkpoint.” Ryuji informs me, changing the subject.

“I can just port in after seeing into his apartment.” I reply.

“Only problem is that the apartment is on the top floor and is the tallest building around for a couple miles. You also most likely won’t be able to see through the glass.” Ryuji explains.

“Hmm…
is there roof access?” I inquire.

Ryuji
taps away at his keyboard and a satellite map of the roof pops up on a monitor a few seconds later, showing that there is roof access.

“Alright, I’m off. After I’m done, should I just call or come back?” I ask
with a smile before engaging my helmet and porting to the roof in Chicago.

I approach the door to the stairwell, finding that it’s unlocked, and head down one floor.
I walk down the hallway and stop in front of Regis Caputo’s door, listening for signs of him being awake, which is doubtful when it’s 3am here, but nonetheless. Hearing only gentle snoring in the penthouse, I get to work on figuring out how I’ll get inside.

(You may wish to hurry
, Master; there is a security camera on the wall)

I look over and
see that Airi is correct. Shit, this cuts my time short. I reach out and place my left hand on the door.

“I create nothing. I preserve nothing. I only
erase
.” I whisper as the silver in my arm flushes to black and my eyes get that bizarre feeling again.

The
entire door loses substance and fades into smoke as the black in my arm reverts to silver. I stride through the doorway while drawing my .460 and loading the second message bullet into the chamber. I walk down the hall, kick in the bedroom door, and fire my message into Regis Caputo from the doorway. I grab a nearby t-shirt and wipe off more of Michael Alejo’s blood from my person and leave the t-shirt on top of the dresser to the left of the door.

“Well that was less than satisfactory
, but at least I killed him.” I say after porting back to Ryuji’s office and disengaging my helmet.

“What happened?” Ryuji asks.

“A security camera caught a shot of me. Anyway, next.” I reply.

“Alistair
Tinpinny is a resident of Miami and lives in a two-story house on the beach. He doesn’t appear to have a wife or kids, but more women use the facebook check-in feature at his house than at… abortion clinics?” Ryuji says.

“You were trying to think of places women frequent and the first thing that comes to mind is an abortion clinic? What in the hell is wrong with you?” I ask
with a mocking tone.

“
Alright, then you tell me; where do women frequent?” Ryuji asks.

“My bed.”
I say without missing a beat.

“Nice.” Ryuji admits, trying not to laugh.

“I try. So are there any defenses around the house?” I inquire.

“There don’t appear to be, just the seemingly standard bulletproof windows.”
Ryuji replies.