Free Embracing the Shadows by Gavin Green Page B

"Your master brought me into the night
nearly twelve hundred years ago. I will spare you any descriptions
of the cruelties of life in the middle ages. My sire told me of his
oath, and showed me the current recipient of it. That man was a pig
in all ways but shape. His eldest bastard boy wasn't much better; a
thief with hardly a hint of honor. After him was a callous warrior
with no empathy. The lineage of that sordid sort continued.
    "For over ninety years did I stay near Viggo
and assist him. When I decided to make my own way, I still returned
to visit my sire throughout the decades and centuries. All the
while, he remained true to his oath, watching over human
descendants that were not his own. In all of that time and having
met so many of your forefathers, only two did I think merited
Viggo's guardianship. Two, out of dozens. My sire has spent his
existence watching over people who did not deserve his sacrifice.
That should explain what I meant by continuous resentment, Mr.
Beck. History has tainted my expectations of your line."
    Well, shit, how was I supposed to argue
against that? Skala might've been harsh in his judgments and tended
to stereotype me because of a few assholes in my family tree, but
he was thinking of Viggo and wanted what was best for him. I
would've done the same. "I'm sorry most of my ancestors didn't
quite measure up, sir. I could say I'll try to change your opinion,
but it's not your approval that I want."
    Skala's response was interrupted by Viggo,
who said to us, "As there is no obviously no reception here, I must
go see if an informant has been able to gather any further
information. I shall return shortly." He walked over to a dark
alcove and was gone a second later.
    I turned back around, and into Skala's
unnerving stare. "We both have my sire foremost in our minds and
hearts," he stated in a low and quiet tone. "For that alone, I will
reserve further judgment. Do not, however, think that performing
simple chores and staying out of the way will alter my view. I am
not your enemy, Mr. Beck, but I am not your friend, either. I hope
that satisfies your curiosity." Not waiting for a reply, he pulled
the book back in front of him and lowered his head.
    With that conversation obviously over, I went
over to where Skin sat and watched a replay of the tape with 'me'
in it. The time counter on it showed 2:16 a.m. of May 2nd. The
camera angle showed a nearly empty cargo area. Light spilled out of
an office window on the left side, giving a dim glow to a wide
swath of the warehouse floor. A vague silhouette was back in that
office, unmoving, apparently waiting. I couldn't tell if it was
McKenna or not.
    The roll-up receiving door on the far end of
the warehouse lifted a few seconds later. A figure stepped in with
a body on his shoulder. He toted the dead weight over to a
four-foot square crate and dropped it in, and then did the same for
another body laying just outside. When the suspected murderer was
done sealing the crate, he seemed to nod to the silhouette and
walked out.
    The camera quality was grainy, but the guy
looked a lot like me. Not exactly, but close. When he crossed
through the light, I could see he wore the same style of leather
coat as me. He also had the same facial hair, haircut and scars
that I did. Someone went out of his way to make himself look like
me. "So that's supposed to be me, huh?" I asked myself out
loud.
    "Bollocks!" Skin said, sitting next to me.
"The man on the screen has a different posture and walking gait,
plus he doesn't have your arm strength. The structure of his jaw is
a tad off, and his hands are paler than yours. There are other
small signs, but no, kid, that ain't you. As for him," Skin reran
the video and pointed at the silhouette, "I'm fairly sure someone
manipulated some pixels. I don't think there is anyone in that
office at all - a clever ruse to pinch ol' Declan McKenna in the
process."
    "So who was the guy carrying the bodies?"
    Skin shrugged and turned back