P. Stormcrow

The thumping of heavy footsteps echoing down the alley grated on Damien’s nerves. He had run. Why did they always run?  

With a groan under his breath, Damien lengthened his stride, but maintained a steady pace. The scent of magic, in this case, the smell of old sheafs of paper with a hint of nutmeg, clung to Vic and created a trail leading straight to him. All he had to do was follow it.

The chase led him to a stereotypical alley and though it didn’t surprise him one bit, he jammed his hand in his pockets and entered with heightened wariness, nonetheless. 

An animal screeched and a garbage can fell over, spilling refuse across the grubby cement.

“Fucking cat.” A figure shimmered into view, as if coming into focus. Vic Mitchell stood up, kicking a pizza box away while continuing to mutter a litany of curses under his breath.

“Vic.” Damien stroll over.

He jerked up, and his gaze flickered past Damien.

“I came alone.” 

Vic eyed him, then sighed, slumping backwards against the brick wall that lined the alley while pushing limp strands of oily hair away from his face. “What do you want?”

An amused smile played over Damien’s lips as he cocked his head to one side. It had been a long time since he had reached out, but it was almost comforting to see that his informant hadn’t changed. “Information. Usual fee.”

Vic lifted his trembling hands to pat his pockets until he found his smokes. He didn’t answer as he took great ceremony in taking a stick out of the package then making a show of trying to find a lighter without avail. 

Damien raised a brow and waited. The other man had no use for lighter and he doubted he even carried one. The tattoos, similar to the rune gloves sighted on the perps, had seen to that.

When Vic realized he wasn’t going to bite, he glared at him, snapped his fingers, producing a flame that danced on his thumb, and lit his cigarette with it. “Whatever you think I know, I don’t.” He took a deep inhale, then snorted and rubbed his nose. Though Vic only smoked the cancer stick in front of Damien, he knew the man was jonesing for something stronger. Years ago, when he was still a freshly minted agent, he had tried to help him get clean, but the talented magician had laughed as he informed him that some curses only hard drugs could make tolerable. Gerard had stopped him from delving any deeper. It was one of the very few orders his mentor had given him without an explanation.

“This is a soft ball, I promise.” Confident of Vic’s underground connections and uncanny awareness of everything going on, he held up a roll of bills. “More if you can tell me about any major stolen goods being moved on the market.”

He didn’t take the bait right away, but the greed in his eyes told Damien that it was inevitable. “What kind of goods?”

“Research.” Damien pointed his gaze at the tattoo on the back of Vic’s hand. “That kind.”

“Hm. Awfully unspecific.” Regardless, he took a deep drag of his smokes and snatched the money from him.

Damien shrugged, waiting him out. It was constantly an interesting game of cat and mouse.

“Well—” Vic rubbed the bottom of his chin—“I have heard that some new magic research has come on the market. You know there’s always somebody looking for a leg up for one reason or another.”

“Any big buyers interested?”

Vic laughed, a strange mix of cynicism and hysteria that set Damien on edge. Before he could comment, however, Vic’s eyes rolled back until only whites showed. Great tremors coursed through his body and he dropped the cigarette in his hand. Damien had only seen this happen once, but Gerard had sent him off before he could figure out what was going on. At a loss with what to do, he grabbed Vic’s almost skeletal shoulders and shook hard.

Vic refocused on him and he heaved with one last great shudder before he slumped backwards. 

Damien breathed a sigh of relief. “What the hell happened?”

Vic groaned and rubbed his temples. “Got any booze?” he asked instead of answering, his voice hoarse and raw. New lines of weariness etched in his face and he appeared as though he aged ten years in the last few seconds. 

Pity made Damien relent. “No, but there’s some coffee back in the car,” he suggested, thumbing over his shoulder. “It’s quiet around here and I’m not parked far.”

For a moment, conflict twisted Vic’s ashen features, but another shiver coursing through his body led to him grunting his assent. He pushed away from the wall and steadied his stance before he managed a step forward. Damien followed, then overtook to lead the way. 

He took care to guide them down secluded paths, respecting Vic’s unspoken need to not be seen with him. After all, if Vic was exposed, he would lose a valuable informant as well, which was why he didn’t tap on him as a source too often. They remained silent until they arrived at his car and Damien retrieved his thermos, passing it on to his new companion. In the back of his mind, he wondered what Reed would say to him, sharing the coffee she so favored.

Small price to pay.

Pleasure chased away the shadows of strain on Vic’s visage as he took a swig and the corner of his lips tugged into a minute but genuine smile at last. “Damn, that’s good. Thanks.” He passed the drink back to Damien, but he shook his head. 

“Go ahead, take your time and finish it. You look like you need it more than I do.”

They both settled to lean against the side of the car and Damien held his tongue, letting Vic enjoy the moment of peace. Which was why it startled him when his informant spoke first.

“Sorry about your partner and all.”

Damien’s heart sped faster, but he faked nonchalance as best he could. It shouldn’t surprise him that Vic was aware of their falling out, given Vic seemed to know everything. Even so, it was odd coming from someone that wasn’t a Stranger. Their department played their cards close to their chest. “What have you heard?”

“Only that your partner quit awhile back. Shame, he was a good one. Word is, you have a newbie running around with you, though. How’s that working out?”

Damien wanted to laugh as the knot eased within him. Vic hadn’t ferreted out the reason behind Gerard leaving. Nobody had made the connections between Maya’s disappearance, or even their relationship. He patted him on the shoulder. “Shouldn’t I be pumping you for information and not the other way around?” he teased.

Vic chuckled. “Can’t blame a man for trying.” He took another long drink and smacked his lips. “There are a few companies there with believers, if not magic users at the helm. Whatever goods is being released into the market has them frothing at their mouths but rumor has it that the package is already spoken for though it’s pretty mum who ordered it in the first place.” He closed his eyes and winced, then continued to speak without opening them again. “You’ll want to look into security firms. Something to do with shields, maybe.” He turned, staring hard at Damien, and the sudden intensity of his stare gave him goosebumps. “Just be careful kid. This shield has thorns.”

There was a certainty to his tone that sent chills down his spine, but he nodded once until Vic extended a hand out, palm up.

He reached into his pocket and handed him the other roll of bills he had prepared. Vic pocketed it and passed him the thermos in return. “Thanks for the coffee.” He pushed off from the car and began to leave.

“Hey Vic,” Damien called out before he walked too far off. “Those runes on the back of your hand. Who did the ink?”

Vic paused in his steps and threw a glance over his shoulder with a laugh. “Who did you think?” With that, he left, shaking his head the entire time.

Damien remained where he was, watching Vic disappear. The rune gloves bear a remarkable resemblance to the tattoo and he wondered if he may have just met the supplier. It would be something Vic would never admit out right, nor would he ever rat out his clients, but it would be worth getting Satellite to do a search on the merchandise. Actually…

He pulled out the phone, unlocked the screen and punched a text to Reed. While you’re hunting around, check out Vic Mitchell. See if he’s selling any costume pieces. And I don’t mean the normal run-of-the-mill variety.

It took only seconds for the device to vibrate with a reply. You got it.

Huh, he did have a use for these things, after all.