Moon Shimmers(3)

Located in the Belles-Faire District of Seattle, the FH-CSI was on Thatcher Avenue. It was a large building with one floor aboveground, which housed the police unit and healing facilities for the Supe community. At least three stories belowground included an arsenal, a jail, a laboratory, morgue, and archives, and there was a rumored fourth level, though Chase would never confirm or deny it.

The parking lot was empty, though in thirty-six hours it would be full. A few of the jail cells were actually used as kennels during the full moon, for when some of the werewolves went careening around the city. The animal shelters sub-contracted members of the FH-CSI to round up the bigger predator types and cart them down to the holding cells until morning. Once they reverted to their human forms, they paid a nominal fee and were set free. That way, nobody got hurt and in the morning, their families could come get them, crowding the parking lot.

As we approached the building, the sound of traffic blurred in the distance. The sky was clear and the weather, balmy. June in Seattle didn’t exactly fit most people’s definition of warm, but the rain was holding off and it was sixty degrees at ten-thirty. Shirtsleeve weather to locals.

I glanced at the stars. Most of them were drowned out by the light pollution, but here and there, a bright star flickered. The sky was so different from what it had been back home in Otherworld. Here, the city lights blotted out all but the brightest stars. But there was an energy over Earthside that OW didn’t have. And I had gotten used to that energy. I was actually grateful that I was here to stay.

I pushed through the doors. The police station was to the left, and the medic unit was straight ahead. As we entered the station, the bustle of activity hit us like a wave.

Yugi, Chase’s second in command and a Swedish empath, was racing around with a clipboard in his hand. At least three officers that we could see were checking their weapons. I jumped back as Marquette—an elf who had joined the force a couple years back—hurried by. The look on her face was dour. Brooks, a full blooded human, followed her, looking just as grim. Behind him was Fry, another FBH. She was carrying one hell of a big shotgun.

Chase was standing at the door of his office. When he saw us, he brushed his hair back from his face and motioned us in. “Thank gods you’re here. You lost the troll, didn’t you?”

At six-one, Chase was Delilah’s height. With dark wavy hair and olive skin, he looked Mediterranean. We had all thought Chase was human until a few months back when we discovered he actually had an ancestor from Otherworld in his lineage, giving him a touch of elfin blood. He was wearing a designer suit—Calvin Klein—and right now he looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel in his forehead.

“That’s why we’re here. The Fremont Troll is right where it was. What we’re chasing is the corporeal spirit of a troll who was resting quietly inside the sculpture till some lamebrain decided to use a talking board. At least, that’s the way we think it went down.” I glanced over at his desk. His landline was ringing off the hook, three of the four lines flashing. “Your phone—”

“Never mind my phone. We have a major problem. Whatever that thing is, it’s headed toward Golden Gardens Park, where there happens to be a major event going on.”

Delilah paled. “What event?”

“The midnight wedding of some big-shot lawyer’s kid. There are two hundred people milling around the park, half of whom are scheduled to eat a midnight supper there after the wedding. I’m sending officers over now, but we have to do something before the bride and groom end up taking their vows over a mass grave.” Chase was stumbling over his words. He usually wasn’t this frantic, even during emergencies.

“Slow down. We’ll head out there. We just wanted to do a little research on this spirit. We aren’t sure how to stop it.” I frowned. “What else is wrong, Chase? It’s not like you to be so panicked over a routine monster fight.”

His shoulders slumping, he dropped into the chair behind his desk. “What’s wrong is this: Do you know the name Brandon Rigal?”

Delilah let out a loud cough. “Yeah, he’s that big muckety-muck lawyer who defends the members of the Freedom’s Angels and the Guardian Watchdogs when they get busted.”

The Freedom’s Angels and the Guardian Watchdogs were two incredibly nasty hate-groups out to oust the Supe Community from Seattle. They had spread to other cities as well. At first the Angels were talk-only, but once the Guardian Watchdogs got involved, and with the Brotherhood of the Earth-Born backing them, now they were all violent. It wasn’t a far step from shouting vile slogans to acting on the rhetoric.