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Esoteric Chronicles Act2, Book1

REBIRTH

November 29, 2:30 am... San Francisco, California

" Don't make me take this shit out there , it's pouring rain!" A waitress held a black bag of kitchen garbage in her hands, pouting at her boss - a large Italian man, and head cook at a local gentlemen's club.

"Listen here," the man grumbled, "You eitha get that damn garbage out back into the dumbsta, or you can just go look for another damn job. I'm tired of all you lazy bimbos comin' to work for me in the kitchen, just cause you ain't got the tits to dance out on the stage."

A middle finger was presented to the cook, and the woman stormed out the door, leaving behind the bag of garbage. With a sigh, the cook set down his chopping knife. The hefty Italiano moved across the kitchen, grabbed up the bag of garbage, and shuffled towards the back door.

"Goddamn, good-for-nothing bitches," he muttered under his breath. The steel door swung open with a high pitch squeal from the joints, hitting the brick wall as it rotated around. Oddly enough, the rain diminished to a light sprinkle. "HAH! That dumb broad."

He carried the garbage down the alley and hoisted it up over his shoulder. Tossed over the seven foot wall of the dumpster, it landed inside, atop the built up trash. The cook turned and walked back towards the door, closing it behind him as he walked inside.

Moments later, a groan came from within the dumpster. Burnt flesh of five fingers lifted up from within the trash pile, rolling over the steel edge and grabbing a hold of it. The charred skin began to chip away as the grip tightened, showing patches of healthy pink skin spreading over the entire hand. A blackened face rose up from the so-called casket, and its flesh, as well, was beginning to mend. It took a matter of seconds for the old to flake off, uncovering the healthy texture and color of fresh skin... - he was healing.

The disfigured being threw a leg over the dumpster. With a grunt, he fell seven feet to the concrete ending on a dull thud. Clothes were in tattered pieces, having been heated to the point of combustion during the electrocution. His once broken hand now pressed into the asphalt. Knuckles mended themselves and snapped back into the joints. His ligaments retightened.

There he sat, dazed, hovering in and out of consciousness for a half an hour.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, waking him from his reverie. His mind began to clear and he eased up, leaning against the dumpster for support. He pivoted then took a step forward. The remnants of his leather dress shoes fell to pieces. He trudged forward, barefoot, with his arms around his sore ribs. He could actually hear them popping back together - it was rather sickening in a way.

At the edge of the alley, he saw a parked car and approached the rearview mirror. He leaned down and gazed into the reflection, barely recognizing himself. Inspector Reno Lee Nevada, a suspended San Francisco Inspector, appeared older now that his hair burnt off in last night's fight on the roof of the Pages Lost gothic nightclub. He looked around, only to realize that he was up in North Beach. His logical police mind came to the conclusion that someone must have moved his body away from the crime scene.

Everything felt weird. Slow. Relaxed. A light rain wet his face, over as soon as it began. Another rumble of thunder in the distance snapped him out of his trance. He no longer looked twenty-eight without his hair. In a gruff voice, he muttered, "Bullshit."

Was it all a dream? Was he dead? Perhaps this was purgatory? His mind wondered about old Catholic Sunday school lesson depictions of Heaven and Hell. For the first time in a week, all the whispers and secret voices and ghostly visions that danced at the corners of his eyes were gone...silent.

Tonight it was just man and rain.

Rain drops rolled over his bald head, gathering together to drip from the tip of his nose and chin. He arched a brow in the mirror then tilted his head. "Weird." He still had his goatee, the one thing he chose not to shave last night. Reno pushed away from the car and began walking down the sidewalk.

He dragged his feet like a zombie. He caught one foot against the other, then stumbled again. One foot in front of the other, step by step, exhausted. His thoughts drifted back to the group of thugs, the unfair fight, and the searing pain from his electrocution.

He couldn't decide if he was a broken man or a mending one. His body felt weird. He couldn't regain his equilibrium. The inspector pushed onwards, turning onto Geary Street. Little did he notice, every time he walked under a streetlamp, it faded out until he passed, and then brighten back up once more.

The walk from the club to his apartment lasted an hour and a half. The silent empty lobby welcomed him with the hum and flicker of florescent bulbs.

A wall clock in the lobby had the small hand in front of the four, the big hand over the six but its second hand slowed to a halt as he neared it.

He stared at the clock for a moment then he shook his head and moved further into the lobby towards the lift. He mashed his thumb against the 'up' button to call the elevator. His thumbnail cracked and sloughed off. All at once, the broken nail began a rapid reformation, growing from the soft pallet of skin.

Doors parted open, and he stepped inside. He brought his hand up to the control panel. When he extended his fingertip, more of the charred coating began flaking off.

His finger moved close to the illuminated button and, all at once, the lighting inside the cabin faded to black. The music playing over the speaker faded out like an old record player. Nevada tilted his head in confusion. He mashed the 'five' button furiously but to no avail.

He pondered why the music slowed to a halt. It wasn't like one of his daddy's old cassette tapes - music was streamed or saved on an electronic storage space. It should have simply cut off. Come to think of it, the lights reacted the same way. They'd dimmed then faded completely. He continued to press the button for a few more seconds then closed his hand into a threatening fist. The control panel didn't respond.

With a sigh of defeat, he put his hands on the metal frame then pushed back out of the elevator, stumbling over a ficus plant set up besides the doors. He turned about, just in time to see the lights come back on, inside the elevator, followed by the double doors sliding shut.

'Could things get any more screwed up?'

He shoved the stairwell door open and took hold of the handle. His legs ached, making each step a chore. His arms and shoulders tingled, which made it difficult to keep hold of the rail. He pulled himself up, stumbling as though drunk. The staircase slowed him down but he deemed it more reliable than an elevator with a power issue.

An hour later, and five flights higher, he exited the stairwell and began navigating the hallways. He slumped against the door frame in front of a door marked 5A.

A tired grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Hell yeah. Made it. Home sweet home." He attributed the gruffness of his voice to exhaustion.

He brought his right hand up to the knob but it was locked. His eyes lowered to the healthy pink skin and glossy, fresh fingernails. "Huh. Didn't know getting struck by lightning came with a free manicure."

He opened and closed his hand a few times then plunged it into his tattered pants pocket. His fingers fumbled through the charred material while pieces of blackened cloth flaked away. He closed his hand around something unnaturally warm to the touch then withdrew a set of keys.

Another sigh of frustration. He unlocked the deadbolt then the knob and opened it. He ran a hand over his bald head, lamenting the loss of hair. With a grunt, he leaned his shoulder against the door, pushed it forward, and stumbled inside. He shut the door and exhaled again, a sigh of content.

He reached back and thumbed the deadbolt then made his way inside, greeted by the soft orange glow of his cable box. The clock on the face read '5:32.' With a grunt, he fished out his wallet, ran his thumb over the golden inspector badge then tossed it on the end table.

He headed for the bathroom, having left the light on from the night before. Another deep breath to prepare himself for the worst, then he stopped in front of his mirror. His suit was in tatters. Once more, he sighed, but this time in relief - he didn't look like jerky.

The inspector turned on his shower then slumped into the tub.

He spent the next thirty minutes submerged in hot water.

Eventually, he reached for a bottle of body wash and began scrubbing away at the top layer of skin, which resembled a toasted marshmallow. 'Wish I had a pumice stone,' he thought to himself with a frown.

His mind returned to the San Francisco logo of the Phoenix and pondered the irony. He got to his feet and scrubbed and rinsed until the water turned cold.

"Okay," he murmured, turning off the water. First time speaking in hours, his voice sounded gritty and deep. Careful not to trip over the siding of the tub, he reached for a bath towel then stepped in front of a foggy mirror.

Reno Nevada lifted his towel and wiped the condensation free from the reflective surface. The remaining burnt flesh appeared to have been washed free. He looked normal, aside from the lack of hair on his head and lack of a suntan.

His eyebrows even started to thicken up once more, same coloration as his goatee. Oddly enough, the bald look wasn't too bad. At the very least, he felt it made him look more rugged.

Reno reached for his bathrobe and pulled it from the hook on the backside of his bathroom door. He ambled into his bedroom, gathered a white t-shirt and a pair of flannel bottoms and, last but not least, stuffed his feet into house shoes. "Okay... time to use the ole cop logic and figure this out." He cleared his throat then repeated himself but his voice remained huskier than before. "Huh. Macho head, Macho voice, and I need a tan."

Nevada stepped into the living room, and approached a lamp on the left of the sofa. Its twin lay in the hallway in several pieces. He drew in a slow, calm breath then reached underneath, fingers feeling for the switch.

'The elevator was just a coincidence, right? Yeah, sure.' He turned the switch and the light brightened beneath the shade. 'Thank God.'

Reno turned about and, minding his lack of equilibrium, dropped squarely onto his sofa. He took a moment to breathe, just to relax himself, and reached for the television remote.

'Well shit, after you die and come back to life, what else would a man do first? I wonder what's on at nearly seven-thirty in the morning?' He extended his arm and pointed the remote at his large TV and mashed the pad of his index finger over the power button.

A visible stream of electricity shot out from the remote towards the television. The screen shattered into shards while the inner circuits fried to the point of melting. Reno jumped up, startled. The moment his feet hit the floor, the lamp that he had turned on also blew. Pieces of the glass bulb covered the table that the lamp was sitting on.

"Just... Bullshit!"

A knock at the door startled him. Batteries in the TV remote popped, causing the controller to shatter. Its colorful rubberized buttons scattered.

'Who the HELL could that be?'

All about him, a cloud of thin glass dust fell through the air from the television's explosion. Not nearly as plump as snowflakes, it fluttered softly to the ground like confetti. A bar of dusty fallout glowed from a beam of morning light, which came from a window against the back wall. The sun began to rise with relaxed swagger; an orange rectangle crept across the floor. Someone knocked on the door again, distracting him from the brief trance.

Knock ... knock, and there was a tapping. As if someone rapping, rapping on his apartment door. A Reno got up from his sofa, paused to look at the couch again, then shook his head and walked to the door.

He realized he still held the plastic molded bottom of his remote in his palm. He tossed it on his recliner in passing, leaned into the door, and gazed through the peep hole.

Meanwhile...

On the other side of the door, Abigail Krenyenko swooned to the magnetic intensity of energy. The young gypsy girl pushed her sodden hood back then stuffed her hands into the pouch on the front of her hoodie. "Chase," she murmured, reminding herself to use her new surname. The surge of power she sensed through the door made her sway. "God, what is that?"

She pondered what drew her here - it wasn't this strange powerful energy, because she didn't feel it until now. She knocked again, taping the rhythm of 'Shave and a Haircut' against the label plate, which read, "5A" in brown lettering.

Abby Chase ran her hands up over her damp head - her hair was beginning to dry. She moved closer to the door. She pondered why she came here. Reno beckoned her, somehow. Whether he wanted to or not, which was part of the hex... she'd linked herself to him inadvertently.

It'd been hours since she felt the call, deep down inside, and now she found herself outside his apartment door, having walked clear across town in the rain. She'd been standing outside for about five minutes now, debating how silly this all was, until she heard the shock of something breaking inside. She banged her fist on his door again.

"Reno! Open up!" Her voice held a hint of fright. Something happened to him and she had to figure it out. The gypsy continued to pound on the door, ready to kick the stupid thing in if she had to. She pushed wet strands of raven locks from her face.

The deadbolt released with a clunk, and the door knob turned. It slowly creaked open, allowing a sliver of light coming from the hallway to widen on his face, as he stared out from the narrow opening.

Reno without hair... 'Hmm, interesting hair style,' she thought with a hint of a smile.

"Oh... hey Abby. It's a little early, don't you think? What do you need?"

Oh... yeah, like she bought that. Her fingertips pressed into the door and she shoved it open, slipping her slender form inside. First thing she saw, when she weaseled past him, was the smoke rising from the television.

"I knew it." She turned and faced him. "I'm... sorry, Reno." Her voice withered to a whisper. She saw the change in him. The fact he wasn't bossy or stern with her created an enormous red flag that some life changing event happened.

"Yeah... I know," he said as he tied the black robe's sash shut, regardless of the fact he wore a white-tee and flannel pants underneath. His gaze panned from her, through the darkness, towards the widescreen TV. A crease of longing and sadness marred his forehead. "I loved that television..."

She replied with a dull glare. "No, no... I'm sorry for what I did to you back at the park. I could care less about the television," she said, ending on a grumble. 'Men and their TV'.

Moving a little closer to him, she brought her hand up and pressed her fingers into his bald head. Her fingertips gently scraped against his smooth flesh before adding, "I liked you better with hair. But I guess your change suits this look better."

He replied with furrowed brows.

A sigh and she moved back away from him, turning to the table where the glass from the bulb littered the wooden surface. She frowned. "You're unresponsive to my jab about your hair. You loved your hair."

"Yup. Maybe it'll grow back. Whatever."

Abigail gawked. "Your temperament has changed." She glared at him for a moment then tilted her head. She pondered briefly then smiled and stretched out on the back of his sofa.

He lifted the rain-soaked hoodie off, using her left hand to shove her shirt down in front. She grinned at him and placed the wet hoodie on the back of his couch. He didn't seem to care.

She rang out the rain water from her tank top, balled it into her fists, showing a hint of her black bra, and let the water drip on the floor, not really caring what kind of a mess she was making. Abby twirled her hair up into a bun then turned to him. "Don't you care that I just got water on your floor and sofa?"

"It'll dry."

Abby grimaced. "Okay, fine. I was trying to get a reaction out of you. You're acting like you're drunk or high because you're way too mellow." She took off marching about his apartment to find a towel to put on the floor. "I might know how to fix it," she called out from his bathroom. That's when she froze, gawking at the grand mess in the bathtub... 'Eww.'

Meanwhile...

Reno, in the living room, stared at the puddle gathering on his wooden floor. It really didn't matter. He just let her talk, not like half the stuff she'd said in the last few days made sense to him. And so, of course, he didn't expect her to make any sense now in regards to his new situation.

Last thing he remembered, before waking up in that dumpster, was getting smacked in the face by a channel lock wrench. Nevada moved forward and turned to settle down on the sofa. He would have turned a light on, but, well... too late now.

He brought his hands up to his forehead and pressed his fingers into the smooth flesh until white spots spread out from under the tips of his fingers. He cleared his mind and stared at the dim ceiling. Reno shook his head and mouthed the word, "Bullshit."

He imagined the short girl in his bathroom trying to get to the towels on the second shelf from the top. He imagined she would have probably tried pulling one from the bottom of the stack. A noise came from the bathroom followed by her calling out, "I'm fine; everything's fine!" Two more thuds followed. He imagined her making a mess in the process and a weary smile spread across his lips.

She hurried back out to the living room and put the towel on the floor then used her feet to mop the puddle. Abby kicked off her sopping shoes and socks. She made her way over to him and sat down sideways on his couch, wet clothes and all, legs crossed, staring at him.

Reno eyed her expectantly. She always had so much to say, a stark contract from the way he met her in the interrogation room. Now she rarely ever shut up.

She lived up to the expectation and started a new conversation. "Do you know what happened to make you change?"

"What change?" he groused softly. "I don't know what you're talking about. All I remember is going over to the Pages Lost to find out why I was suspended... then Monroe had her goons drag me up to the roof and proceed to kick the shit outta me." A side glance was given to her once more, wet clothes and all, on his leather couch, "Of course, I held my own, 'till one of those dickheads smacked me with the biggest channel lock wrench I've ever seen... and that's pretty much the last thing I remember until waking up in a dumpster in the alley behind the club."

Abby flinched. "Jesus, Reno. Uh huh, got your ass kicked, got knocked out, woke up in a dumpster... So, do you remember anything else? Anything different when you got up?"

Reno eyed her then looked back up at the ceiling. "Had a migraine... you get those, you know, when you get smacked in the face with a metal wrench; in case you were wondering."

"I noticed you had a lot of gunk on the bottom of your tub. Know what that's from?"

"Gunk... in my tub? Mold?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about the crispy skin, the bolt that shot out of his remote... any of it. At least not with her. At least not yet.

Abby leaned up and flipped on the light switch of the last lamp in the living room. She paused to look at the badge adjacent to it then licked her lips and sat up. He watched her eyes, amused by the way she appeared to study him. Her gaze flitted over to the broken lamp in the hallway then the shattered one on the other table. "Didn't you have more lamps at one time?"

He afforded her a wry grin. "How would you know? You've never been here before."

"Okay, I'm not dumb. I just don't know how better to bring up the fact you've got two broken lamps. So... this is the last one left, huh?"

Reno eyed the lamp, not ready to trust it. He looked at his hand on the armrest then at the table, two inches away, with the last remaining lamp. It certainly did little for his headache and so he reached up to turn it back off.

However, the closer his fingers got to the switch, the brighter the bulb became... causing him to quickly pull back and stare at it.

"Well, you're certainly treating it like it's the last lamp left." She smirked.

He returned the expression. "Yup. Last night I broke one. Then this morning, I shattered the bulb of its twin. This one is the third one, so it has to be the charm right?"

Abby moved over to him, grabbed a hold of his hand, and lifted it up the lamp. She tilted her head, watching how the bulb reacted the closer his fingers came to it.

He somewhat resisted. But his own curiosity took over and he allowed. His fingers brushed against the warm curly florescent bulb.

It burst, sending shards into the flesh of his hand. He jerked his hand back with a gasp. His left hand came to the aid of his right, wrapping about the wrist, thumb in his palm. The room, dark again, was only illuminated by the morning sun coming from a window in the hall, adjacent to the kitchen.

His eyes adjusted. He gawked in silence, staring at the plethora of cuts and small gashes filled with large-to-microscopic chunks of glass.

Abby stared at him wide eyed. After a moment of silence she drew in a long breath to try and explain. "You're... charged. Yeah, like that would make any sense to you. Nevermind." She grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet. "C'mon, get up." She forced him off the sofa, and over to the kitchen. She flipped on the light and guided him to the sink to run his hands under cold water. "Sorry about that, I had to check to be sure; you must've been hit by lightning or something. And because of what I did to you, making you a medium and all, well," her voice trailed off looking at him curiously. The sink hissed softly.

"Charged, huh? That's the understatement of the year," Reno muttered. "Listen, I don't care how long it takes, but if that mumbo jumbo you pulled back at the park has anything to do with me blowin' up my damn apartment, I think I deserve a freakin' explanation. You know if I..." His voice trailed off. His eyes lowered down to his hand, still clutched at the wrist by his other. Each cut visibly began to seal itself shut, cutting off the flow of blood. An inch wide piece of bulb pushed out of its gash, and fell to the floor, clattering softly; the wound mended itself. Their eyes met. "Okay, that's new."

Abby froze, staring at his hands. After a moment for the shock to pass, she reached and pulled them apart, forcefully from his own grasp, and prodded at the skin of his hand. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Her eyes lifted to his then returned to his hand. "I have no explanation." She spoke in hushed tones, unable to do more than whisper in amazement.

"Neat."

She blinked then glared up at him. "Oh hush, Eeyore. You... you've magic. I... I didn't think that..." Abby walked back to the living room and flopped down on the sofa, her wet clothes making an evil squishing sound as she did so. "You're no ordinary mundane. In fact, you're not a mundane at all."

"First of all, 'mundane' is an adjective, not a noun. Second of all...What? I have magic?" He turned off the sink and followed her out to the living room, facing her on the couch. "What does that mean huh? What...the fuck...does that mean? I wake up in a dumpster in some alley in North Beach..."

"North Beach? That's nowhere near Pages Lost."

"...and all of a sudden, I've got lightening shooting out of me, blowing up all my shit, and my hand is healing right before my eyes?" He turned and began pacing back and forth. "This is bullshit. Way worse than my stint with the Captain or with that stupid bimbo, Monroe, okay? This is over my head. And now you're telling me that you did this to me?"

"I don't know. It wasn't supposed to happen like this," she said with a soft sigh.

"Spit it out."

She tilted her head. A glob of black mass tumbled down her cheek, slipping from the twist she put it in. Abby scowled at her hair, pulled the twist apart and flung it behind her shoulders. "When I opened your mind, I might have, I don't know how I could have done it, but I might have opened your magic... Everyone has magic in them, but their mundane lives keep it hidden. I didn't think I could do that, though." At a glance, she appeared rather amazed with herself. "Did I cause you to become a conductor for electricity? Or was it because, with your third eye open, the lightning inadvertently triggered these new abilities? I've never seen anyone heal like that. I've never seen anyone mess with a lightbulb just by reaching for it, let alone anyone causing one to blow up just by touching the bulb. This is magic on a level that is far beyond my..."

"Whoa whoa whoa, one step at a time. Let's not even get into this whole magic thing. I've had enough of this, okay?" Reno shook his head, took a deep breath, then, with a huff of indignation, added, "either some goddamned mafia boss is trying to enslave me through my job, or some gypsy is trying to pry open my mind; aren't there any NORMAL people left in this world?"

Quick to protest, she said, "Yes, and that's what I'm trying to help save, dammit. Do you remember what I told you last time I saw you? About the wars coming? There are normal people out there that don't know about the 'supernatural'. You're one of them now. You've become a being higher than human, but human nonetheless. Vampires, werewolves, mages, faeries, gypsies, wizards, mages...whatever! They're all part of a world that lives within the world created by humans," she retorted. She paused, looking as though she expected him to argue or raise his tone with her.

"Yeah, yeah, old news," Reno said with a roll of his eyes. "I saw a chick burn these gunmen in a back alley simply by thinking about it. All I know, is someone had my ass canned because I met you at that place the other day. A hundred bucks says that man in the black suit I saw in my head, back at Golden Gate Park...has something to do with it...and when I find him..." He trailed off at the end of his tirade. Two distinct strands of visible electricity danced within the pupils of his eyes.

She fidgeted nervously then looked away from him, trying not to stare at his glowing brown orbs. "Yeah. The man that killed my people."

"I think he might be responsible for whatever happened to my fiancée and brother. And if I can prove it, I'm going to hurt him."

"Hurt him, Reno? That's all? Just hurt him?"

"Trust me," he said with a sneer, "it's going to be biblical."

"Yeah, well, the gypsies from Golden Gate Park," Abby began, "were targeted because of something my people protect." Her voice trailed off. She stood up and paced the floor. She stopped in the kitchen and sighed. She turned from the sink and headed back towards the living room. A crunch caused her to stop in her tracks...

Abby whimpered, plopping back on the sofa, drawing her naked foot up onto her lap. She stared at the little pink pricks of blood from the smaller pieces and the larger one embedded in her foot. "And then he killed them," she plucked at the glass with her fingernails, wincing in pain, "because they didn't have it," she flinched, muttering something along the lines of 'ow' then said, "They wouldn't tell him where it was. The map made it easier for him. What I can't figure out is how he managed to manipulate them into all coming to the same place at the same time. They're not stupid. They wouldn't have done that. Someone tricked them into it." She continued to pick at the bits of glass from her foot, grumbling about the discomfort.

"Yeah? Something about seeds, right?" Reno headed towards the bathroom and retrieved his first aid kit. He brought it back to her and opened the box, pushing it into her lap. "There you are, Miss Chase. Seems to me that your mind's eye is already open. Why not go and touch an electric fence down at the navy yard, then maybe you can heal cuts, too."

She sat there for a moment, a look of concern on her face. Her eyes danced on the floor for a moment, as though thinking things over.

"What is it? You had the same look that day in the interrogation room. You look like you have something you want to tell me, but you're holding back. So just spit it out."

"We have a common enemy. And now we have a common fate. We both have the power to assume the responsibility that God laid into our laps."

"Oh boy. Here we go," he said, tossing his hands up. "If we're on a 'Mission from God', then I get to be Jake and you can be Elwood. So, what's the deal? Tell me about the seed thing again, huh?"

Abby shut her eyes. "Thee, ahh, Seeds of Knowledge. We have one of the fragments. Of course, we were working on sending it away." Her tone sounded more like a confession. She winced and whimpered trying to get a bit of glass out of her foot, but couldn't because her fingertips were slippery with her own blood. "We now think Falcon has the other two pieces and has fused them together by now."

Reno shook his head slowly, reached over into her lap, and rummaged through first-aid box. He fished out an alcohol swab, tearing the condom-sized-package open. He handed the soaked gauze pad to the girl, and he spoke in a nonchalant tone of voice. "What're the Seeds of Knowledge, again? Sorry I didn't retain every detail from last time you told me about this but... I hadn't yet thrown my first lightning bolt so I was a little on the fence about what to believe."

Abby snatched the pad from him. "I'm not supposed to talk about this stuff to gaje."

Reno folded his arms, waiting for her to talk. "You want to skip the semantics this time and go straight to the part where you blab? Or would you rather chew the stick of gum first?" He grinned, remembering the tactic he'd used back when they first met.

"Okay, listen. I'll explain it again. But only because I believe you're the only one who could protect me and the gypsies. ...and you can't do that if you know nothing."

"Honey is better than vinegar, Chase."

"Just Abby. And you're right - I'll tell you. Lord knows the 'unquestioning pawn' is not something I wield. So... listen up and take some notes this time."

He furrowed his brows, not understanding the reference. "Don't you think there are enough pawns in the world as it is?"

"Yeah, there are. What I need is an alliance."

Reno rolled his fingers forward as if gesturing for her to move forward. "Yeah, an alliance. With a gaje cop. Sure. Moving on. The seeds are...?"

"Powerful...items that," she started, fidgeting with the alcohol soaked gauze, trying not to wince at the feeling of it against the wound, "can cause the user or holder immense power, depending on the Seed fragment. It offers great insights to the future, immense knowledge, and so forth. The secret man in the black suit wants them. Those three gypsies with the scars, that were murdered in the park..."

"Yes?"

"When their bodies are positioned correctly, they form a map on where the seed fragments are...were located." Abigail muttered, through a series of winces, still fighting with that one, final piece of glass. She paused, glanced at him then back at her foot. "I didn't want to add that the map was useless now that the bodies were ripped apart by the Medical Examiner. Those men were friends and I'm still angry about the autopsy. Just saying."

"You just did add all that extra...nevermind." Reno reached back into the box sitting in her lap, and, "Voilà." Tweezers were the next item pulled from the first-aid kit. Nevada rubbed his whisker covered chin, adding, "So why hasn't the last fragment been stolen yet if this guy knows everything was hidden? And how the hell did he know about them in the first place if it's such a well-guarded secret? What have these seeds come from, that they're not biodegradable or re-growable?"

"We don't have the money to get a guardian to move it," she replied. "That, and..." Her voice then trailed off into a sigh. The gypsy took the tweezers from him and yanked the final piece of glass out with a faint yelp. "We can't afford, nor can we find a new guardian. It's a dangerous job, obviously. And the Black Suit man? I don't know how he knows of our lore...and these seeds are very old. They're the last of their kind. No they won't degrade; they must be planted but it's not safe to do so. You wouldn't even believe the scale of importance we're dealing with."

"I just blasted my TV with a bolt of lightning. I'm ready to believe a lot more stuff than I did yesterday."

"Do you... have anything I can change into? It's getting really cold. I don't exactly have a fire to hang my clothes. I don't want to get sick."

Reno glanced up, towards the hallway past the bathroom, then cut his gaze back to her. He offered a shrug of his shoulders. "Uh, yeah. My room," he said, hooking a thumb back towards the bedroom door. "Chest of drawers - should have some tee-shirts or something. Back to this whole...uh, guardian thing: Where the hell is it at that you can't afford to go there? And you and your buddies shouldn't be hanging around here if that wackjob in the black suit has directions to it. So why does God make it possible for someone to get these things and take over the world or whatever? Make me understand."

"For God to make it impossible to uh...'take over the world'," she said, with a chuckle, standing up from the sofa, "would be to inhibit free-will in some way. God will never inhibit that gift, in any way. Think about it: We have that little thing in our brain that automatically controls breathing, yet everyone has the free-will to hold their breath or blink on purpose if they so desire. We think whatever we want to think, and we keep secrets if we choose to do so. Trying to destroy the planet is included under free-will. It's just a shame that he didn't give us the gift of maturity in how to deal with freedom of will...but that, in a small sense, would be inhibiting our free-will as well, I suppose. We have the free-will to be stupid in life. Isn't that nice? A blessing in disguise, that free-will." She finally realized she was startling to babble and hobbled back to his bedroom. "Excuse me while I rummage through your things."

A moment later she called out from his room. "We've moved. But not enough. He'll find us easily. I'm not sure what the Baba has done with the last fragment," she said. A moment later she re-emerged from his room and headed for the kitchen wearing a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt. She turned about, careful not to step in anymore glass. She faced him over a bar that separated the kitchen from the living room.

He rubbed his chin in thought. "So it's likely that this man in the black suit is currently where that map pointed him? And he did all that ritualistic carving on the bodies to try and hinder you from reading the 'map' in order to keep anyone from following him... So now we don't know where he is, right?" Things started making sense to Reno now.

She rummaged through his kitchen and grabbed for the makings of a sandwich. "He could be anywhere. I've never seen the map fully together. Not many have. I was thinking maybe we could 'hire' you as the guardian of the last fragment. You could show the Baba your new abilities and then you could hide the seed but tell that blue haired creep at the bar that you have it in your possession. She would tell that guy. Then we could ambush him."

"He's got his shit together and I don't. I'd get killed and the ambush would turn into a joke."

"It's just like Second World War all over again. My great grandmother was a girl in 1937 when Adolf Hitler learned about these seeds and started hunting down gypsies to find out the truth. When a gypsy of the correct lineage was found, she or he was questioned. If they didn't provide the correct answers, they were burned or gassed like the other gypsies, the Catholics, the Jews; anyone he didn't like. He eventually stopped asking and starting attacking every last one of us without provocation. Hitler was a despicable soul. I hate greedy men; this man in the black suit is no better."

"Great, we're going to go up against Super Hitler. Just what I needed."

Abigail watched him for a moment from the doorway. She began nibbling on the sandwich again. After a moment of quiet, which Reno appreciated greatly, she finished the sandwich and asked, "What's your plan?"

Reno shook his head. "Go back to work in three days. Where's your camp?"

"They're moving just outside of the city limits," she mused. "The Kumpineia needs to get things in order while laying low."

Reno sighed softly, running his hand up over his forehead the way he normally ran his fingers through the dark strands of his hair. The smoothness of his bald head acted as a reminder to his situation and how strange everything had become.

He glanced back over at her with a casual smile. "You look tired as hell. You can stay the night. Well, day rather. Do you know how to shoot a gun?"

"A...g-gun?"

Reno smirked at her stammering. He got up and walked into his bedroom from the hallway. He opened the closet and reached up, patting his hand along the top shelf. The inspector withdrew a .357 pistol and checked the weapon. Abby came into the room behind him. Nevada turned to face her. He wedged the handle into her palm.

"Point it at the person you're meaning to shoot, it's real simple," he explained. Abby's eyes went wide and she trembled like a leaf the moment the cold metal handle was wedged into her hand. Inadvertently the loaded weapon was pointed at Reno, who quickly got around behind her. He eased his arms about her slender frame, putting his hands over hers, to show her how to confidently point the weapon at a standing wall mirror.

"No, I... really I mean," Abby continued to stammer. "I don't like the feel of the gun in my palms." He could see a light sweat on the side of her head.

"It's never been used on someone."

She nodded and swallowed. "I can sense that no one's soul is attached to it, but regardless, the fear of its ability scares me to the core. Please, Reno, I don't want..."

"Abby," Reno warned with a sigh, "Stop. Someone is after you; you're going to need to be able to protect yourself."

"I have gypsy magic and charms, you don't need to worry about me," she scolded.

"Magic?" Reno pulled back, staring at her with a raised brow. "Don't give me that crap. I don't wanna hear that 'magic' crap." Suddenly Abby whirled around, hauled off and slapped Reno in the side of the head, dropping the gun to the floor with a thud.

"You're telling me your ability with light bulbs is something DIFFERENT?"

"No, I just..." Reno paused. He hadn't thought of it like that. Is that what she did to him? What exactly happened? He stood there staring at her for a moment.

"Well?" She smiled, prompting him to reply.

"I was shocked by lightning... haven't you even seen Ernest goes to Jail?" He picked up the gun and sighed. "C'mon, there's a logical, scientific explanation. There's, like...extra positrons in my atoms and, uh...they're built up in my mitochondria or something."

"Oh, gaje..." Abby shook her head. "Because I unlocked what is already inside of you, you were simply able to channel and use the energy of the lightning without destroying your body," she explained.

"What?" Reno's mouth was still open as if he was going to add another statement but he drew blank for a moment. His mind raced for an explanation, "You're telling me, like...my brain's function has increased? I have the capacity to use more of my mind than the average person right? That's how you worded it the other night at the bar. I mean, this should be a simple explanation," Reno said, drawing quiet at the end of his sentence. "You open my mind or mind's eye or whatever, then the lightning triggered my brain to rewire itself?" He put the gun back on a shelf, albeit one low enough she could reach...just in case.

Abigail shook her head. "You'll see," she promised with a hint of a smile. "This is bigger than you realize."

He frowned, stowing his emotion. "So am I the most powerful freak on the block?" He grabbed a jacket from his closet, turned to his dresser and fetched a pair of jeans then went for a pair of shoes by the door. It was time to look for more answers.

She bit her lower lip. "Probably not. There are powerful people capable of abilities that defy belief. You will be up against the greatest challenge in your life. You may not live to the end of the night. In fact, we may all die."

His tone changed to one of annoyance. "Neat."

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Next Chapter: https://www.sofurry.com/view/616217