Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Black Ring Society: (The Underland Chronicles) Chapter 4 (edited)

Chapter Four: Grindin’

Detective Roger Drake sat at his desk in the 30th precinct mulling over paper work, an envelop with several news clippings related to suicides in a new night club and restaurant, ‘On the Grind’, sprawled on his desk. This is going to be one long ass night. He let out a sigh, he’d been a detective for only a week, and this was not a case he expected to be covering. I’m a Detective not a psychologist, who knows why these people committed suicide? He would rather be doing work on the cocaine sales that still went on in Harlem even though the landscape and inhabitants had changed. And thinking about the amount of people who killed themselves inside of a two month span was spooky. The thought sent a slight chill down his spine and reminded him vaguely of conversations he and his best friend Marcus would have before he went away to college in Chicago, Roger decided to stay in New York and help the community. It was funny, in his younger days, being a cop would be seen as selling out, but he tried, always in the pursuit of fairness and always attempting to sympathize with youngsters who ran the streets. He was one of them once. He’d rather show them a better way, and was thankful that Marcus’ grandfather took time out to teach him and Marcus about their people, their true history, things like the Willie lynch letter and the writings of Timothy Drew. This helped him understand his people and at the same time gain self respect, It also allowed him to realize that the gang members and drug dealers were as guilty of destroying the ‘hood as the cops in those days. Don’t shit where you eat. He thought and then Marcus popped into his head, he’d only seen him once or twice after he and Ebony, Marcus’ cousin broke up Maybe I should give him a call, we could hang out. Just then, the lights in his office began to flicker and the temperature dropped, when they came back on Roger jumped back. He sat there face to face with the city’s urban legend, no one had ever seen him this close and he was scarier than the stories said. Dread locks projected from his hood like the tentacles of a nautilus, red energy pulsed around his body. His long coat waved in a wind that wasn’t there, and the heat from his exhalations denoted the void of cold that hung around him. Roger reached for his gun, but it wasn’t there what the hell, where’s my… his thoughts stopped in his head as hands slid themselves onto his shoulders and placed the gun in his holster.

“You know I could’ve killed you, so play nice.” A feminine voice whispered, in a ghostly doubled speech.

“Now that we have your attention, we need to ask a favor.” The voice that spoke could have been human at one time, but not now. “You know who we are correct?”

“T-the Geist and Mirage, right.” Roger’s voice nearly shattered. “W-what, do you need?”

The red eyes narrowed at the papers on his desk. “The night club suicides, we need all of the information you have on them.”

“Well it’s not, much but…this is what I have.” Roger blinked regaining his composure. “I do need it to continue my investigation though.”

“You won’t be able to make any headway in this area.” The female voice behind him whispered, something in it was familiar to him.

“Mirage is right; this is out of your league.” The Geist added

“Excuse me but who are you to tell me what’s out of my league?” Roger stood up but the clawed hands on his shoulders forced him back down.

“Sit still and before you think about calling for help, know that no one can see or hear you, to those outside this looks like an empty room.” Mirage whispered.

Roger looked out side and noticed people walking past his office, no one seemed to pay it any mind. One of the officers checked his door, saw it was locked and slipped something under it. “How are you doing this?”

“Magick.” The Geist accentuated the end of the word.

Roger’s breathing sped up, raised by his Christian mother he was subconsciously fearful of anything supernatural even though he told himself he didn’t believe in it. “What are you?”

“I’m a lot of things, but right now I am a person seeking to stop the deaths of others.” The Geist moved forward putting onyx hand on Roger’s desk. “Will you help me?”

Roger met his gaze and whatever was in it made Roger trust him, like the eyes of an old friend. “What do you need exactly?”

“We need the dates of the earliest killings as well as the times.”

Roger picked up a copy of the dates, times and names of the people and slid them across the table.

“Thank you.” The Geists hand extended, to touch the list and just as he did, it was gone. “We appreciate this.” He looked at Mirage “Let’s got”

The fingers slid from Rogers’s shoulders and he finally saw her as she walked around him toward the Geist. She wore tight black with gold lines coursing through it, she wore a shawl that became a hood enveloping her head. She was beautiful he thought, even if she was a semi-horrifying urban legend. She does have a nice booty. She walked slowly as if she knew he was looking at her and was soaking up his gaze.

“Like what you see.” She laughed, hauntingly.

Roger snapped out of his haze and sat up. “ Ummm…uh, before you said that these were killings, but they’re suicides, self inflicted.”

“Were they now?” The Geists eyes widened and a thin slit where a mouth should’ve been grinned. “We’ll see about that.”

“What do you mean?” Roger cocked an eyebrow. “What reason or proof do you have that they weren’t, what do you know?” Roger’s detective instinct kicked in.

“We’ll be in touch.” Mirage said as the room went dark again; when the lights came on they were gone.

Roger sighed Great, just what I need some, what ever they’re supposed to be sending me emails. He got up and walked to the door to pick up a report that read “Body of homeless man found in Tompkins park missing organs.” He sighed again, more heavily this time. More weird shit, this day just gets better and better.

The wind had picked up visibly as the Geists jacket moved away from him, the rooftops of the new condos in Brooklyn shot into the sky in an attempt to turn the borough into Manhattan. “Why don’t they just leave it alone, Brooklyn was beautiful before.” Mirage put her hands on her hips. “These condos are ugly.”

“What’s ugly is this wind; could you make it go around us?” The Geist turned toward her.

“Oh, right sorry.” She moved her hand under her shawl and everything was still. “You know it was kind of funny how the cops know who we are.”

“Not really.” The Geist walked to the edge of the building. “My dad and aunty did do this before us grandpa and grandma before them, neither group was very discreet.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right, at least it makes it easier for us to get info out of people, being urban legends and all.” Mirage laughed.

“Yeah, people scare easy when myths become reality.” He pulled out the sheet of paper he’d gotten from Roger. “Dad and grandpa sure paved the way for us.”

“So what’s our next stop?”

“We’re going to go see Kenny.”

“You mean your protégé?” she quipped.

The Geist gave her a glare; it was true that he’d hoped to take the young man under his wing. He’d sensed innate magickal ability in him and his brother and since Kenny’s love had been rapping, he hoped to help lace his lyrics with positive magickal energy and an enlightening message that his people so desperately needed. Hey, it worked for the other rappers, drugs, guns, and what not. There was another reason he’d hoped to teach Kenny something, for protection. Magick for all purposes was 50-40 will and intent, give or take 10 percent faith, and the will and intent used in modern music was as malicious and corrupted as it came. Save for emcees like Saga Asad, Aseer the Duke of Tiers and a handful of others, modern music was casting one hell of a spell; rap especially.

“Yeah, My protégé.” He turned toward her. “I need to locate him, make sure we’re not shadowed.”

“I thought shadow’s was your job.” She chuckled.

“Very funny, just keep your eyes open.” He closed his eyes and turned his thoughts inward, into the primordial blackness of creation. Using this spell always put out a tremendous amount of energy depending on how far it went, so any magical being within a 20-block radius would be able to track its flow right to him.

“You’re completely defenseless while using this spell right?”

“Yes, it requires complete concentration; I have to reach out to every shadow in the city, so please be quiet.”

“I just wanted to know what I’m supposed to do if we’re attacked by Kishi or something that travels in packs, how will I defend us both?”

The Geist was silent his eyes closed tightly the red lines vanished; he blended in with the night. They then flashed open.

“Did you find him?”

“He’s uptown at the Black Diamond recording studio.” Darkness swirled around him. “Come on let’s go.”

“Black Diamond isn’t that the recording studio of J-Banks” she cocked her head.

“I think so; I guess we might be able to wrap this one up fairly quickly.”

“If only life were that easy.” She walked into the swirling darkness.

“Here’s hoping.” The gate way swirled on either side of them then began to shrink like a whirlpool and vanished. As it did, eyes watched from the rooftop of an unfinished condo. A smile too wide for the human mouth revealed two rows small jagged teeth. A dark green hood was pulled over the face shadowing it except of the little blue coals that burned within. Its earthen colored clothes seemed darker than they were, like the Geist, it blended with the dark as well as the smoked glass paneling on the build as it leapt off into the night.

The lights above JFK airport made a slow decent as those in the terminal awaited the arrival of loved ones and friends. The voice over the PA system informed everyone that the flight from Florida to New York city had just made touch down.
Bruce stood next to media mogul Thomas Haven they said nothing as they waited at the arrival gate. Celestine emerged carrying a large handbag her she wore designer sunglasses; her hair was premed and cascaded around her shoulders. Her brown trench coat did little to hide her long mahogany legs.

She stopped in front of them regarding them with a smirk. “Ok so which one of you made all of this possible?”

Bruce and Thomas both turned toward her and Thomas responded. “Does it matter?”
Her smirk turned into a sneer. “Well I’d just like to know who I have to sleep with in return for it.” Sarcasm coated the sentence.

Bruce burst out laughing. “Oh darling, it’s nothing like that.” His face became abruptly serious. “ Unless you want it to be.” Celestine scowled at him.

“Uh-un, I’m not that easy thanks.” Bruce looked at her and smiled. “Sweetie I’ve heard that a million times and it really does get old.”

Thomas interjected. “You’ll be coming with me to Haven towers, I’ll set you up with a room.”

Two men in black suits came up to her and with her luggage from the carousel. Celenstine nodded at them.

“Ok I’ll play along, but I’d like to know what this is about, I’ve killed people for keeping secrets from me.” She began to follow the two men. When she left Thomas turned to Bruce. “Volatile isn’t she?”

Bruce smirked. “She’s just what our organization is looking for trust me.”

Thomas looked at his watch. “I’ve got to go, call me the next time you need my money.” Thomas let out a bitter laugh and began to walk off.

Bruce took out his cell phone and dialed a number. “Yeah, did you make that phone call yet?” Bruce arched an eyebrow. “Good, I’m going to swing by in about an hour or so. Have a plate ready for us.” Bruce closed the phone and exited the terminal a smile plastered on his face.

1 comment:

Rolanda said...

My favorite chapter thus far! More motivations are revealed here. The grammar and sentence structure needs work, but I realize its just a draft and I know how it is ;). I NEVER edit my drafts, lol. I love the cop,he's my kind of character. That may have to do with my past in law enforcement or being a sucker for a man in uniform, but nonetheless, I love him!