“Is that really what you’re going to tell me? A thing with a lot of eyes and legs and hair is following you around? That’s how you’re choosing to begin this conversation at three in the morning?”
“It was the first thing that popped into my“—pant, pant—”head, Devica, yeah. Can you help me or not?”
Devica Baines, her eyes patchy from not sleeping in three days, wiped at the screen in front of her with a soft cloth, wincing at the layer of dust. I really should clean more often. “All right. I’ll help. What do you need, exactly? I’m not in the assault business, Mr. Broderick. Some of my best friends look like things that would make your brain melt.”
“I need to know why it’s following me. If I send you a picture, can you get back to me?”
“Probably?” She would have shrugged, if it were a face-to-face conversation. The line was starting to get rather noisy. Was he fleeing underground? That was never a good idea. “Send it over. I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re a life-saver, Devica.”
Snorting, the hacker hung up her work line, pulling out several dusty tomes from a nearby shelf—tomes that might end up becoming useful, if his picture amounted to anything. Her room, always bathed in permanent darkness, had seen better days, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually vacuumed.
You’d think the founder of a technological firm would be comfortable to hire a maid. But no. I had to get involved in THESE circles, she thought, pulling up a few internet windows. Money was never really the problem—it was the thought of certain people gaining access to her personal library. Certain people who might frown on her brand of diverse company.
Finally, the line buzzed, and she pulled the data up on her computer. It was a blurry photo, something taken from a second level above the subject. But it was enough to confirm that it wasn’t a uniform member of a certain genus. It looked different, and that meant either new or…
But, no… surely not one of them…
“If he’s being followed by a Changeling, well, good luck to him,” Devica muttered aloud, unconsciously. She let her imaging programs straighten the photo out a little and then opened a few more browser windows—perhaps someone in her circle knew, or knew of, this particular strange creature. But she’d keep it close to her chest for now. No need to stumble into a hornet’s nest unawares.
Clicking a few keys, she opened up the line and called Peter Broderick again.
“Mr. Broderick? I got your photo. I’m going to show it to a few friends, see if anyone recognizes your buddy. What has it been doing, exactly? Has it been violent?”
“It charged after me like a lunatic the first time I saw it. Now it’s just skulking behind me, like it’s waiting for me to get tired.” His voice broke. Devica winced; if it was trying to wear Broderick down, it was succeeding. “Don’t take too long, okay, Devica? I’ll pay you anything.”
“Don’t worry,” she soothed him, “we’ll fix this. Just keep calm and keep moving. I’ll call soon, when I have something for you.”
Hanging up, Devica cursed in at least two languages before getting up and grabbing her coat. There was no time for the slower channels. She needed answers now.
(Source: velvetdemon.net)
