The Boy Who Saved the World

‘Tell me about him.’

‘Who?’ Raemond stared at the ceiling, squeezing the requisite stress ball in his fist. Every other minute he would toss it into the air and catch it, all the while reclined on the couch.

Ridiculous. The whole thing was ridiculous. Complimentary or mandatory, therapy came with the job. The post mortem dissection that followed each case. How many years had he been coming to the shrink now? Long enough to learn their name, surely. However they remained just the shrink. Sometimes Doc. Names had too much power, and so often they spoiled the story. No names was best.

‘You know who.’

Raemond grunted, leaning back on his arm behind his head. ‘Yeah, him.’

‘What do they call him?’

‘The boy who saved the world,’ Raemond chuckled, pitching his voice grandiosely.

‘Do you think he did?’

‘Think he did a lousy job of it if this is the part he saved,’ Raemond gestured around them. The room. Therapy. Reficul. The great city of San Marseille and the outskirts around it. The foggy boundary and whatever outside world existed, for this it existed for.

Saved the world, alright.

‘How did you first meet him?’

‘A case. Real nasty one.’

‘The beast of the boardwalks.’

‘Yeah, that one. Made the papers, didn’t it?’

‘It did. We’ve also discussed it before.’

‘Have we?’

‘Twice, in fact.’

‘Yeah, guess so.’

‘This was the first time you met him, correct?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What was your first impression?’

‘Not much. Had to go down to Dogtown to find him.’

‘That’s bad?’

‘Can’t stand the place, stinks like wet fur when it rains.’

‘And by the end of the case? What did you think of Mark Rember?’

Raemond frowned, squeezing the ball in his hand.’ Yeah.’

*******

'You're the boy who saved the world?'

A moment ago boy had been the right expression. Raemond wasn't impressed, wondering into an outskirt bar, packed tight with regulars and filled beyond that with second-hand smoke and the fumes of spilled liquor. The person he'd been looking for turned out to be younger than he'd expected. Blonde hair, annoyingly thick at the parting, unlined skin and shoulders that weren't hunched over with age. Raemond disliked the younger man already. Surely this couldn't be who he'd been sent to find.

Then the eyes came up and Raemond had to clench his teeth to keep from flinching. Blue, because of course they would be, and annoyed. But more than that. Those eyes glaring at him were...old.

Regardless, Raemond doubled down. 'You're too young to be standing behind that bar, kid.'

The brow furrowed into a scowl, familiar lines. That was something.

'I'm the manager.'

'Bullshit. I should be the one asking you for ID.'

The kid turned and pointed at the duty manager sign on display behind him.

Mark Rember. This is the guy...seriously, this is the guy?

'You want something or you just gonna sit there and be an asshole about it?’ Mark Rember asked him. He leaned back against the bar, raising a half empty beer bottle.

'You allowed to drink on the job?'

'Manager, remember?'

'Got another job for you, if you're interested.'

'I'm not.' Mark turned his back on Raemond, moving to the other end of bar and swapping places with one of the other servers. It left Raemond staring at the kid's back. To all intents and purposes he was being ignored.

'The mayor sent me,' he called out, loud enough to be heard if you were paying attention.

Mark turned back to Raemond, giving him what had to be a well practiced look of frustration. 'Which one?'

'The one who works the night shift.'

Mark stared at him, then made a gesture. Raemond felt hands under his arms, lifting him up and none too gently. He was escorted swiftly through the crowd to the door, so fast he didn't even get a chance to object. Booted from the bar and stumbling to stay on his feet. He staggered, turned and started to yell at the bouncers. Stopped short when he saw the two. Both big, covered in coarse black hair and both openly growling at him the same way a feral dog might. There were teeth, such big teeth, and what could have been a trick of the light, but their eyes almost glowed, catching the street light and throwing it back.

'Never mind then,' Raemond muttered, dusting himself off. He glared at the two for no effect and eyed up the exterior of the bar. No other obvious entrance but there was a side alley, wide enough to park a car through, so presumably deliveries were made. There was also a gate but Raemond didn't let that stop him.

Someone was waiting for him.

It wasn't Mark Rember, far from it. It was a woman, easily twice Mark's age and with some on Raemond. Grey haired and dark eyed with red framed rectangular glasses. She looked like the part, enough so that Raemond held his tongue. A first, for tonight.

'Inside,' they motioned to him, standing halfway out of the. 'Stop dawdling.'

Raemond started to say something but thought better of it again, he had to sidle past the woman, who could have been someone's grandmother but the one you were afraid to visit. Maybe the type who lived alone in a cottage in the wood and took deliveries of picnic baskets from red hooded girls. That would have been fitting. Raemond bit back a snort at the idea, earning himself a look from the woman.

Best to just keep quiet then.

The door led into the back areas of the bar, past a liquor cage and up a flight of stairs to the second floor. Raemond could hear the echoes of wordless music, the bass thumping through the timbers under his feet.

They arrived into an office, a doorway with no door and empty chairs in front of a desk. Piled high with papers and accounts. Mark Rember was seated behind it, still with the half-drunk bottle in hand. He looked up in annoyance, but not at Raemond.

'Really, Gwev?'

'Really,' the old woman revealed as Gwev replied. 'And don't give me that look. You know full well you've been ducking her calls. Keep this up and it will be herself down here.'

Mark rolled his eyes, sighing and rubbing at his face. 'Fine,' he relented, looking at Raemond now. 'What?'

Raemond lowered himself into one of the empty chairs. Leather backed and plush, very nice. Comfortable. He stretched his legs out, leaning on one hand, taking the time to study Mark Rember some more before he answered.

Not just a boy, as Raemond had initially dismissed him as, which was what you got when you became accustomed to the film industry's version of young. Twenty somethings playing teenagers. Mark could have been in his mid-twenties or mid-thirties, Raemond couldn't tell. Just as well he wasn't the one carding underage drinkers. The kid did have an aura though, one shot through with cynicism, grief and more than a shade of anger. Dark stuff.

It was strange, Raemond squinted at him, almost doubled up there in most places, and layered, as though...

'You're with the police,' Mark interrupted him. Raemond blinked, the kid's aura had just clouded over, gone all opaque now. Like Mark knew what he'd been doing and didn't care for it.

'Special consultant,' Raemond corrected. 'Attaché. Raemond, Arthur Raemond.'

'You're a witch.'

'Some people would say that.' Maybe he did notice. Curious and curiouser.

'I am saying that. So what do you want from me?'

'Like I said, got a job for you.'

'Loralai has a job.'

'The Night Mayor has a job she needs doing and she sent me to convince you to do it,' Raemond said. 'Now that that's all cleared up...'

'I already told you no,' Mark said.

'Nah, you had me thrown out. And then your friend let me back in,' Raemond looked back over his shoulder. Sure enough the woman Gwev was still there, hands clasped in front of herself, watching them both.

'She did,' Mark looked pointedly at Gwev. The woman smiled.

'Means you said no but the answer ain’t no. I am curious,' Raemond said. 'You save the world, yet no one remembers. And you end up here. Here in this...den of wolves.'

'I wish no one remembered,' Mark said, 'would make my life a lot easier. I wouldn't have people like you to worry about for start. And stop with the wolf jokes, it's as blindingly obvious as your performance downstairs was. You're not impressing anyone.'

'And besides,' Gwev said, smiling, 'you're the one who walked into this den.'

'Fair point,' Raemond conceded. ‘Walked in, thrown out. Who’s really putting on a show?’

'Get on with it,' Mark sighed. 'What does Lora want?'

'If you'd take her calls she would have told you herself.'

'But I don't so I have you instead. Get on with it.'

'Fine. The beast under the boardwalk, heard of it?'

'Sure,' Mark leaned back. 'Latest beastie out of the Night, somehow got loose and holed up down by the harbour.'

'Scaring the locals and tourists both. Got most of the Morgana pier cordoned off right now, in fact. Business and locals are hurting and the city is bleeding money. Tragic, right?'

'I hadn't heard anyone was hurt.'

'Barks can be worse than the bite, but this thing has big teeth, so I hear.'

Mark glanced at Gwev, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth for the first time.

'Shush you,' the woman told him.

'So how is this a problem?' Mark asked. 'No one's been hurt, so whatever it is will come right on its own and get collected by someone who knows.'

'That's the problem,' Raemond said. 'Someone has offered to collect the poor beast.'

'Who?' Gwev asked.

'You know who,' Raemond said. He waited and wasn’t disappointed. The boy was quick.

'Hells,' Mark leaned back in his seat, raising his eyes up to the ceiling. He didn't look down. 'And just what does the Kachurian family want with all this?'

'Maybe you could ask them,' Raemond said. 'All I know is what the mayor told me, that Andianov Kachura would be sending his prodigal son over to sort this mess out for us.'

'Caolle,' Mark grimaced. ‘He’s sending Caolle.’

'Since when does Andianov concern himself with the arrival of lost and confused fae?' Gwev asked.

'Good question,' Raemond said. 'The mayor wasn't willing to put up an argument over it. Not when she had another option.' He looked meaningfully at Mark.

'He'll do it,' Gwev announced.

'I haven't agreed to that,' Mark pointed out.

'You were going to,' Gwev shrugged. 'The moment you knew it was Caolle Kachura. Stop wasting time and get on with it. And don't be late getting home either.'

'It's almost midnight already,' Mark pointed to the clock on the wall.

'Then you'd best hurry if you want to be home by morning.'

*******

‘Who was the woman?’

‘Name of Gwev,’ Raemond shrugged.

‘But who is she?’

‘Short for Gwevaudan.’

‘Raemond,’ the shrink pressed him. ‘Stop avoiding the question.’

‘She is the person I ought to have been talking to. Send a beast to catch a beast. You know who she; she’s the boss lady of the Blackwood pack. She’s the alpha, the matriarch, the one who says jump. Granny with the big eyes and teeth. You know all that, why am I telling you?’

‘I just wanted it on record,’ the shrink said, making a note. ‘What happened next?’