Broken Soul: A Jane Yellowrock Novel

Alex chuckled once at the old order given by the Next Generation, Star Trek’s captain. It was a single huff of sound, much like one of his brother’s restrained laughs, or Beast’s, and he headed back to his work area, his head already bowed over a tablet.

 

“If we can get into the system, we can manage an unobserved basement visit,” Eli said. “Until then, I have an update. I just finished the reports of all the eyewitnesses who saw the arcenciel attack in the sparring room.” At my polite but incomprehensible, steak-choked interrogative he said, “None of them match. In fact, none of the descriptions of the arcenciel match, beyond a glittery, shadowy creature.”

 

I made a circular motion with my fork to indicate he should continue, before stabbing it into a morsel of meat.

 

Eli said, “I don’t think it’s mind control. But how about something the snake releases from its body?”

 

I paused in my chewing and thought about the feel of the scale on my chest, all tingly. I said, “’Ass it. ’ike ellssd.”

 

“Yeah. Exactly like LSD,” Eli agreed.

 

I swallowed and said, “What did the lab get on the remains of the arcenciel glop it left on the gym floor after we stabbed it?”

 

“We don’t— Wait a minute,” Alex called from the other room. He brought over a tablet, made an agreeable sound, and pushed it to me. “This just in.” He pointed to the line he thought most appropriate. It was a line of chemical formula followed by words, which he read aloud. “‘Preliminary reports indicate that this compound is a biologic agent with hallucinogenic properties—a deliriant, mildly psychedelic, and strongly dissociative, likely to cause confusion, emotional euphoria, and forgetfulness, as well as headaches and possible flashbacks.’ None of our witnesses had any physical complaints, maybe because they all drink vamp blood and that keeps their brains healthy enough to withstand the compound’s natural effects.”

 

None of us mentioned that Eli now fell into that vamp-blood-drinking category, his life having been preserved until he could get to a hospital, after he’d been nearly drained by enemy vamps. I couldn’t resist the glance to his neck where he sported new scars—pale and irregular, above the older scars from his time in active military duty. He narrowed his eyes at me in warning and I went back to the steak, the tablet, and the info contained in the e-mail.

 

Alex pointed to another line and said, “‘In case of ingestion, normal, healthy humans should break down the substance within hours.’ But it doesn’t say what effect it might have on vamps.”

 

I scanned the rest of the report as the possibilities of the reactions of humans and vamps went on, but it was all guesswork on the part of the researchers. I had seen the results in person. Eli had read the reports. “Oh goody,” I said. “The arcenciel is a living, breathing, dream-inducing, drug-pushing, see-through dragon. Like one of those frogs people lick in the Amazon, but bigger. And can fly.” I half chewed and swallowed the last of the steak, got up, and went to the bedroom where my thigh rig hung on the back of the bedroom door. I removed the scale and brought it back to the kitchen, feeling the tingles on my fingertips and residual tingles on my chest. I got a roll of paper towels and tore off a stack, setting the scale on top. I sniffed my fingers and felt a change inside my nose and head, like a sudden change of air pressure. “It’s a drug, or maybe a drug and magic, working together.” I washed my hands, scrubbing the fingertips that had touched the scale. “While we’re sharing information,” Alex said, “we got something from George.” He set another tablet in front of me, and stretched his fingers apart while touching the screen, making the text larger. In his formal way of writing e-mails, Bruiser said:

 

Jane and Youngers,

 

From the book I am reading and interpreting I have deduced several things that might be of interest. The writer claims to be using oral tradition and ancient writings from before the time of the Sumerians, none of which survive today, so far as I am able to deduce.

 

After the flood, the remaining humans were in great disarray, having lost everything of a cultural nature, and being thrust into stone-age starvation and subsistence level standard of living. In the people of the west (this could be interpreted as the Americas), this destruction and re-creation of the entire landscape created a power vacuum which was filled by the tribal magic-users (witches) who had gifts that gave them greater chances of survival. They bounced back in the form of warriors, shapeshifters (skinwalkers?), wise men, war women, shamans, and healers, most with no mention of the immune problems suffered by preadolescent and adolescent witches of today, though that may mean nothing except that it was lost to time.

 

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