Brotherhood of Shades

“I cannot send anyone until at least next week, possibly Thursday; that is my final word on the matter.”

The tall, thin man leaned across his desk and flipped the pages of a large desk diary lying in front of him. Loose black hair fell forward across his almost impossibly pale skin as he ran a lean finger down a list of diary entries. Using both hands, he pushed his hair back, frowned and adjusted his telephone earpiece as the voice on the other end of the line continued to speak.

“What do you mean?” he snapped. “Why did you not say this before? This puts a very different light on the matter. You know full well that activity of this nature is dealt with by the lower departments.” He slammed the diary closed. “You can call them yourself and arrange an agent; Section One does not deal with matters so trivial.”

He waited while the person on the other end responded.

“No!” he suddenly snapped. “I care not which minor royal is involved. As a courtesy, I will put the alert through to Section Three myself, but there my involvement ends. Now, if you will excuse me, I have far more important work to attend to.”

He disconnected the caller and tossed the earpiece on to the desk. Leaning back in his chair, he expelled a long, slow breath while rubbing his eyes wearily. Pulling out the drawer by his knee, he removed a small black cube, which he clicked into place in a niche at the far right of his laptop keyboard. The screen turned black as he reached out and pressed the middle finger of his right hand into the cube. It now turned deep purple and a map of the world appeared upon it. This was liberally decorated with red patches clustering tightly round all of the major cities.

He touched the map over England and a more detailed one filled the screen; this he tapped again and raised a complicated mesh of lines representing London. The red patches split into hundreds of smaller points of light; these he watched for a moment before touching the image again and raising a detailed map of Gerrard Street and London’s Chinatown. On this screen the dots were fewer, just four or five, and they moved slowly around in a gentle waltz of colour. He tapped the keyboard and a single dot became a vivid yellow. When this was touched, the screen changed and went blank, taking on the purple shade of a day-old bruise. A single yellow-coloured word blinked in the centre of the display – Searching.

“Come on, Marcus, I know you are there,” the man muttered to himself.

He laced his fingers together behind his head, rocking his chair impatiently while he waited. A moment or two passed and the yellow word on the screen fractured into a spiral as the screen appeared to spin before settling itself on an image of a red-brick wall. He reached out for the keyboard and pressed a combination of numbers before speaking.

“Marcus? I cannot see you. Point your CC the other way.”

“What?” a distant voice said.

“Your Communication Cube, point it the other way; you have it pointed at the wall,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh yeah, right,” the voice said again. “Knew I forgot something.”

The view of the wall swam past and the image of a chubby man of about twenty suddenly jumped into the frame. He looked pale and grubby and his hair was an unruly mess; he looked as if he had woken up in a gutter.

“Hi, To—er, Mr D’Scover, sorry. How are you, sir?” he asked.

“Marcus, why are you in Gerrard Street?” D’Scover asked, getting straight to the point.

“Not sure exactly – think I had some drift last night after I Dispersed,” Marcus replied. “I just Dispersed in South Kensington as usual and when I pulled back, I was here.”

“I do not see how you can have drifted such a long way, and I am not prepared to discuss it with you now – just get back where you belong and keep a lower profile.”

D’Scover pointed at his diary and it obediently slid across the desk towards him and fluttered open at the pages for the following week. Scanning down the cluttered pages, he found a small, empty line towards the bottom of the second page.

“I am calling you in next week,” he continued. “We need to have a bit of a talk about your drift problem, do we not?”

“Yes, sir, anything you like, sir,” Marcus grovelled, but the face on the screen carried a flash of anger for a split second.

“The sixteenth – do you have date awareness?”

“Yes, sir, always know what day it is,” Marcus said.

“Very well, I shall be in touch on the morning of the sixteenth to Hotline you back. Until then, stay in South Kensington. You are no use to the Brotherhood if you lose stability before your due time.”

D’Scover touched the Communication Cube again and the screen once more returned to the stark white map of the world. Reaching out, he flicked his hand in a small gesture and a large brown box file dutifully rose from its position on a shelf on the opposite side of the room and slid through the air towards his outstretched hand. Laying the box file on the desk, he opened it and pulled out a file marked ‘Marcus Resnick’. Opening it, he added a note to a number of others on a page marked ‘Unauthorised Movement’. Closing it up again, he placed it in the bottom drawer of the desk before flicking his fingers to gesture the box back into its place on the shelf. It was halfway across the room when the office door suddenly opened. D’Scover flicked his right hand up in a circular motion so quick that it almost defied perception and the file plunged to the floor, fanning out its remaining contents across the carpet.

“Oh!” The young woman who had just entered gave a start.

“Emma!” D’Scover said. “You must knock; this office is not exactly always ready for visitors, as you well know.”

“I’m sorry, sir, it’s just that you had an urgent call on seven and I couldn’t get through as you’ve disconnected.”

“Could it not have waited?” He frowned at her. “It has been a busy morning and I have held substance since four a.m. I am exhausted.”

“Sorry, sir, but I’m afraid it can’t wait. There’s been a fire in a homeless shelter in Birmingham, Zone Nine, terrible thing. The system’s picking up at least five not passing through and at least one is showing some destructive tendencies. It may be the spirit that started the fire in the first place and the thought of a fire starter in a heavily residential area is not . . .”

“Yes, yes, I understand.” He sighed. “I will see who I have on for that region.”

“Yes, sir. Is there anything I can get for you before I go?” she asked.

“No thank you. Are you leaving soon?”

“I have about another forty minutes of good substance, but Julie’s due here soon.”

“Julie?” D’Scover was surprised. “Is she ready yet? I thought she was still in training?”

“She is, sir, but this is her final month. Section Four thought she could do with some experience in the field from a more observed viewpoint first,” Emma replied.

“Section Four? Training now think that they can meddle in my department,” D’Scover grumbled, “so they send a fresh Shade with no experience in the field to work for me?”

“Not exactly, sir,” Emma said. “They’ve sent her to work with me actually. With respect, I’m perhaps more senior than you care to remember.” She could see concern on his face. “She was a secretary before; she already has office skills.”

“Well, I suppose that she will have to do. Pass the information about the fire on to her when she arrives, will you? I will inform agents in the area right away, but Julie will need to know too as I intend to Disperse as soon as possible after I have dealt with this matter.”

“Of course, sir,” she said and turned to leave his office.

“And Emma,” he continued without looking at her, “can you please remember that the details need to be finalised for the movement of the texts from America this week? This will mean liaising with the living members of staff in both libraries. I would like you to handle this aspect of the transfer.”

“Certainly, sir,” she said with confidence. “I’ll start right away.”

D’Scover looked over the edge of his desk at the spilled paper and gestured for it to refill the box, which it did with a rustle, before the file rose once more and slotted back into its place. He turned back to the map and repeated the process of isolating a region once more before selecting a single red dot. Searching blinked yellow on the screen. After a few brief moments a woman’s face appeared before him and silently waited to be addressed.

“Carol?” D’Scover said, and the woman looked up. “You are the senior agent in this area, have you felt the disruption yet?”

“Yes, sir, a bad one. How many?” she asked.

“At least five, with some possible poltergeist activity,” D’Scover replied. “And I will need a Level One watch for a possible fire starter. Can you handle it?”

“Yes, I can handle it,” she confirmed. “I may need a substance boost later to watch for the fire starter. I can’t hold together for a whole night.”

“I shall arrange it right away,” he replied. “Thank you for your efficiency. I will Hotline the details for you. Are you ready?”

She nodded and, with a few taps on the keyboard, he raised an overlapping grey screen of information. This he reached out to with his left hand and moved the information up so that it covered her image. Holding the fingertips of his left hand over the information, he once more placed the middle finger of his right hand over the cube and took a deep breath. The screen momentarily swam with a rainbow of colours like oil on water and then restored itself with the image of the agent. He breathed out and shook his head briefly as if to clear his vision.

“Did you get it, Carol?” he asked.