“No slipping anything past you,” Asya told him.
“If that were true, I’d still be in Sydney,” Vermillion said. “I am finding this to be a nice change of pace, though. If it’s excitement I want, I suspect that Jason will provide more than enough, sooner or later.”
“Do you know what’s responsible for the magical deficit in Casselton Beach?” Keith asked.
“That’s Jason,” Vermillion said. “He apparently decided to monopolise the local magic.”
“How is that even possible?” Asya asked.
“His houseboat is drawing it in. Fortunately, this place is just outside the field of magic consumption. I don’t want to fall into a torpor like those crusty old-world vampires.”
“So, what do we do about the magic?” Keith asked. “It put me through a loop, and I’m only category two. I hate to think what Ms Erstweller will go through.”
“I can tough it out,” Gladys said.
“It won’t be a problem,” Craig said. “While most of the town is magically anaemic, you’ll find Jason’s houseboat to be quite comfortable.”
“How is his houseboat absorbing the magic?” Asya asked.
“Magically, I’d assume,” Craig said. “Shall we go?”
For the trip from Vermillion’s place, the government liaison, Gordon, was displaced from the front passenger seat to make room for Vermillion. Despite his protests, he wound up in the middle of the back seat between Gladys and Nigel, the combat trainer.
“What exactly is your purpose in this negotiation?” Gordon asked Gladys unhappily.
“I’m here to keep you alive when Asano pimp-slaps you across the room,” Gladys said.
“You do seem to lack a basic sense of self-preservation, Mr Truffett,” Vermillion said. “Most people would be wary about offending a category three, given that they could pull you apart like toffee on a hot day.”
“Asano had something that I don’t understand, medically,” Gladys said. “He has scars.”
“Why is that unusual?” Keith asked from the driver seat.
“You don’t get into any fights, so you probably wouldn’t know,” Gladys said. “Nigel, you were a soldier. Have any scars?”
“Used to,” Nigel said. “During the change when I ascended to category one, they went away. Now I don’t get them, no matter how bad the injury. Magically or naturally healed, they don’t leave a mark.”
“I’m curious as to what kind of injury leaves a permanent mark on one of us,” Gladys said. “I’d rather know ahead of time what does it than figure it out after some of our people run into it.”
“And we front-liners appreciate the concern,” Nigel said.
It only took a few minutes to drive into Casselton Beach and down to the marina.
“Is that thing Asano’s houseboat?” Anna asked as she stepped out of Asya’s roadster.
“Now we’re talking,” Asya said. “I wonder where he picked it up.”
“I strongly suspect availability is limited,” Vermillion said as he got out of Keith’s sedan.
They made their way along the dock to find an eerie shadow figure waiting on the lower deck. It had the shape of a man wearing a cloak but seemed to have a negative presence. It was as if instead of existing, it was a hole in the fabric of the universe.
“I am Shade,” it said in a cold, oddly British voice. “Given the warmth of the day, Mr Asano is still swimming after his morning run. Please come aboard.”
The Network group glanced at one another while Vermillion stepped aboard.
“Hello, Shade,” he said.
“Good day, Mr Vermillion.”
The others stepped onto the lower deck and felt a sensation like stepping from the desert heat into an air-conditioned room.
“Oh, wow,” Gladys said. “It’s like I just ate a spirit coin.”
“You should find the conditions on board quite acceptable,” Shade said. “Please follow me.”
The group followed the floating shadow around the lower deck to the far side of the houseboat where they found Asano relaxing on a pitch-black air mattress in the water. He was wearing only a pair of boardshorts, with his toned torso marred with scars on full display. The peppering of smaller scars was dominated by a large, ugly line running from his right hip, across his abdomen and around his left midsection. It looked like the kind of wound that a person was unlikely to survive long enough to have scar over.
The air mattress turned into a cloud of darkness and Asano vanished into it, immediately emerging from their shadowy guide like he was stepping through a door. He grabbed a towel hanging on the deck rail, rubbing it over his head before draping it over his shoulders.
He turned his back to them to lead them inside. This put the tattoo on his back on full display. It showed a night sky filled with stars that actually seemed to twinkle. Looking closer, it seemed like there were dark shapes, almost imperceptibly moving through the night. In the middle of tattoo was a strange dark cloak, lit up by the stars. Inside the cloak was an open, daylight sky. Aside from Gordon Truffett, who had no magic, they could all sense that it was no ordinary tattoo.
“Best come in, then,” Jason said. He moved up to the tinted glass wall, which slid open to access the bar lounge. “Lovely to see you, Asya. If I recall correctly, you had ambitions to join ASUS.”
“I was headhunted for a more exciting opportunity,” Asya said as the group followed him in. The interior of the houseboat was simply but expensively appointed in white leather and rich wood.
“I can imagine,” Jason said, moving behind the bar. “Fighting monsters is definitely more exciting than exploiting our international neighbours to enrich the government’s corporate donors.”
“I have to protest that description,” Gordon said.
“Protest away,” Jason said, putting a series of glasses on the bar and scooping ice into them. “Who are you, exactly?”
“I represent the government in these negotiations. Gordon Truffett.”
“Well, now you’re Other Gordon,” Jason said. “I’ve already got a Gordon, and he’s more important than you.”
“Is this how you start a negotiation?” Other Gordon asked indignantly.
“You’re right,” Jason said. “Give and take is part of the process. Hey, Gordon.”
Another dark figure manifested in the air, although this one was quite different from Shade. The new presence was a disembodied cloak, much like the one on Jason’s back tattoo, but instead of containing daylight, it held an image of the God’s Eye nebula. Four glowing orbs floated around it, looking similarly like blue and orange eyes.
“This guy thinks you should be Other Gordon,” Jason said, pulling a pitcher from one of the two large refrigerators. “What do you say, Gordon?”
The familiar responded by turning on Truffett, making a slow, menacing approach. Nigel stepped between them.
“Alright, Gordon,” Jason said and the familiar vanished. “Sorry, Other Gordon. Looks like actual Gordon’s taking a hardline position.”