Grak: Private Instigator (Orc PI Book 1) Read online

  “And they’re in Alyon?”

  “They are now.”

  I was about to ask Yocto if he ever thought of being a detective, but, things being as tight as they were, I decided I did not need the competition.

  Kordeun was already giving me a run for my money, and he was just hanging out.

  “What do we do next?” I asked. I hoped this was near where the face-smashing would come in, because I was feeling rather unneeded and out of my league right now.

  “Now, we alert the authorities. I will also pass the information we have retrieved on to other Paratechnologists and the Construct Organization Group while my Abstract continues its analysis of the compound to see how it can be neutralized proactively.

  “After I relay this information, we will see what else we can learn about the compound here.”

  Yocto paused for dramatic effect, then finished, “Then we call that gnome.”

  Now, that was a plan I could endorse.

  I smiled in appreciation, baring my large, decidedly sharp yellowed fangs.

  That settled, Yocto wiggled his fingers and waved his arms, retracing the outline of Orthanq’s former shelves, now but a solidified, cooling mass of fused glass and molten metals.

  With Yocto’s expert guidance, the shelf reformed, along with Orthanq’s dishes and silverware.

  I was happy to see we would all be able to eat and drink normally again, once this was behind us.

  That is, if we could do so through our laughter and snickering.

  The plates, glasses and mugs that Yocto recreated were not the originals.

  Far from it.

  They were more suitable for a children’s amusement park than a bar.

  I was sure the monstrous and demonic patrons of the King’s Crown would greatly appreciate drinking from mugs adorned with animated characters taken directly from popular youth entertainments.

  I certainly would.

  25

  Given his size and the number in our group, Orthanq let Kordeun and me show Yocto to the supply area in the back of the bar for further investigation while he remained out front, probably crying hellish tears over the current state of his glassware.

  “This way,” I said, waving for Yocto to follow Kordeun and me into the bar’s non-public section.

  We first entered the kitchen area, where automated arcane mechanisms, alongside the occasional mostly friendly spirits, prepare and clean up most of the meals. The area is simple: a large central tabletop provides the majority of the space for food prep, while counters along the walls have stations for cooking and cleaning. Necessary kitchen utensils hang easily within reach, either suspended from the ceiling or hovering docilely in the air.

  Orthanq need only call out his commands or visualize his request, and the kitchen would spring to life.

  Which I hoped he did not do now, because as much as I loved food, I did not like the idea of cutting implements flying through the air around me like locusts ready to descend upon a fresh new crop.

  The whole setup also allows Orthanq to spend most of his time at the bar, where he gets to regale guests with the wonder of his otherworldly ghoulish presence.

  It also saves him quite a bit of overhead by not having to pay additional workers.

  The profit from all the drinks and meals I eat here go directly into Orthanq’s pockets.

  Or whatever it is he uses to hold things.

  Other than his tentacles.

  “You can scan in here, but don’t do it destructively.” I hoped my admonition would prevent another dishes incident.

  I saw little that could be of interest to the case, because most everything in the kitchen area is inanimate and inorganic.

  If I were Yocto, the adjoining supply rooms with all the food and cleaning agents was where I would focus my search.

  But what, really, did I know?

  I couldn’t even scan the place, much less interpret whatever the scans found.

  “The supply room is through that door.” I pointed helpfully to the only other open door in the room.

  Such insights are why I’m paid the big bucks.

  “Be careful when we go in there. Orthanq has many exotic ingredients and agents, given his clientele.”

  “Understood.” Yocto nodded unflappably, in his element. “I work in a lab. Exotic is my middle name.”

  Exotic would not have been my guess.

  Something more like Protowidget or Parafuse would be more likely.

  But I knew he was joking.

  Even if it wasn’t funny.

  Or true.

  In Yocto’s case, ‘exotic’ was an understatement, and ‘eccentric’ was merely a jumping-off point.

  While my chain of bad jokes ran their course, Yocto threw the spectralphotometer into the air. It began to rotate and flash regularly as it scanned the room.

  I ducked instinctively.

  As I looked around, my eyes widened. All we needed was a beat with some clientele, and this place would be ready for dancing.

  “The spectralphotometer is scanning for similar signatures, possible sources, and potential derivatives of those transformative agents we found in the bar.”

  Slowly, the whole room lit up like a gnomish Paratechnology Day celebration.

  Which made me want to stay ducked and looking for cover.

  Gnomes love to commemorate the wonder and marvels of Paratechnology through celebrations—celebrations involving many explosions, flashing lights, and grand experiments. I find these times of irrational jubilation to be excellent opportunities to go on vacation, preferably to areas without festive gnomes, or seek shelter holed up in my apartment.

  While cold-sweat-inducing flashbacks of Paratechnology Days past burst through my mind, Yocto left the kitchen to go to the supply room. Thankfully, Orthanq had tidied up a bit after Kordeun’s and my failed parcel stakeout. Otherwise, the room would have looked even more crammed with stuff and unkempt than it already had been.

  Yocto whistled appreciatively while the spectralphotometer swept the room, scanning everything from top to bottom. “This place is as fully stocked as most top exobiology labs.”

  I would have whistled, but I had no idea what exobiology was.

  Besides, I can’t whistle. I blame my fanged teeth.

  “And what does that tell us?” I asked.

  I did not ask, “How do you know, based solely on piles of random boxes of food and cleaning supplies?”

  I had a feeling the answer had something to do with all the types and kinds of monsters that were served here.

  “It tells me that the likelihood of finding potentially interesting materials is high. However, without resorting to speculation, I will let our analysis of the room inform this line of reasoning.”

  I felt pretty positive about the whole situation. Not only did Yocto seem to have this situation under control, but he was willingly sharing the credit with us.

  Progress is good!

  Yocto’s next words made me feel even better.

  “Look at this!” He walked over to the cleaning cabinet and held up the two glowing boxes of Noxiclean and Toxiclean.

  Judging by their labels, the two boxes of cleaners could probably kill every germ on Unea several times over.

  As Yocto held up the containers, a visualization appeared in the air, showing the complex unfolding and merging of a series of concatenated molecular chains. As those chains came together, they began to transform.

  To my eyes, it looked like a buzz saw was shredding several extensive symmetrical mirrored strands. The vestiges of this destruction, from shattered fragments to shorn filaments, were then tangled and knotted together, merging to create the fearsome, writhing biochemical monstrosity that was the ANGST mutagen.

  “When combined, the constituents in these containers create the toxin that has caused the monstrous outbreak!”

  I knew nothing could be that clean and still be safe!

  “Let me show you!”

  Before eith
er Kordeun or I knew what was happening or could respond, Yocto threw both boxes in the air and blasted them open with a high-pressure water jet from the unexpectedly adaptive spectralphotometer.

  Luminous powder filled the air like radioactive snow.

  What in the Abyss was going on?

  Yocto must have confused my look of complete confusion for abject terror, for he yelled triumphantly, “Prepare to die, fools!”

  I may not be the brightest orb in the ether, but I know a double-cross when I see one, and our crosses had been more than doubled.

  I could figure out the hows and whys later.

  First, we had to survive.

  26

  I snapped.

  Yocto’s laughter, his blatant treachery, and his willful toying with us in spite of the city’s great need lit my inner fuse brighter than the coruscating beams erupting from his spectralphotometer.

  Covered in sparkling wet mutagenic powder made slick and gummy as it congealed on my head, shoulders, arms, and chest, I charged.

  Yocto was but a couple of paces away.

  I roared.

  My primal scream echoed off the storage room walls so violently that the virulent motes floating in the air shivered in awe.

  Before my challenge was complete, my headlong advance was rebuked by a blast of light so intense that the effort of trying to see brought tears to my eyes and made me regret the day I had first opened them to look upon a world that could give birth to devils clothed in the skin of gnomes.

  The yell ripped from my lungs in a gout of superheated plasma, I crashed into a shelf and heard the crunching of wood and metal as the force of the blast thrust me against the wall.

  My head hit the wall so hard, it was partly embedded into the stone.

  If the force of the blow was any indication, and the supplies I had just squashed were as potent as the combined cleaning power of Noxiclean and Toxiclean, my impact had probably just unleashed enough cleaning supplies to keep Alyon sparkly clean for the rest of my life…and the lives of all my descendants.

  As an added bonus, I smelled burning flesh and felt a gaping hole in my chest.

  This sucked.

  Kordeun’s growl matched mine as he charged past me through the debris left in the wake of my impact.

  Unfortunately for Yocto, Kordeun was not as easy a target as I was.

  Perhaps, in part, because he actually thought before he acted.

  Through rapidly clearing vision as my eyes healed, I saw blast after incandescent blast smash into Kordeun as he tried vainly to close the distance with the maniacally laughing gnome.

  Kordeun’s tattoos shimmered on his arms, wreathing him in a bubble of force I could only barely discern through the arcing bolts of power glinting across his shield’s curved surface.

  It was time for Plan B.

  Plan B, as it turned out, was exactly the same as Plan A, except that Plan B relied on Yocto being fortuitously occupied with Kordeun since the insane gnome thought I was dead.

  I charged again, my chest cavity having sealed itself up enough that my heart would not pump my lifeblood away with the effort.

  Or at least too much of it.

  This time, I was not met by a blast of energy powerful enough to ignite a new sun.

  Before Yocto could turn to face me or register any surprise at my supernatural recovery, my fist smashed into his head with such force that all that was left of his face was a smear of pulp scattered across my knuckles and the wall behind him.

  The spray of his blood and gray matter temporarily added a bit more color to the swirling motes of death drifting about us and congealing on my torso.

  “So much for closing this case quickly,” I sighed to myself, thinking out loud.

  “You alright?” I added, looking at Kordeun with concern.

  “Aye. Ego’s hurt just a bit cuz I let that scoundrel take me in like that. He had me believin’ he was here ta help and would wrap things up fer us.”

  After a moment’s pause to look me over, he added, “Ya’re tha one who looks bad off.”

  I shrugged, a glimmer of a grin dancing on my ooze-covered lips. “I’m a fast healer. He might’ve made things a bit messy, but I think he gave us far more than he intended.”

  Kordeun nodded. “Shoulda kept his trap shut.”

  “And just killed us first thing.”

  “He obviously hasn’t read Nemesis. He needed a good guide for bad guys.”

  I snorted. “Let’s hope his buddies haven’t, either.” I hoped none of them studied up on how to succeed in evil. ANGST were enough trouble as it was.

  “If what he said holds, I agree with ya. He blabbered more’n an elf at a flower garden in spring. Probably cuz he thought we’d be as good as dead when this goop landed all over us.”

  I laughed. “It’ll take more than mutagenic gnome slime and bolts of starfire to trip us up!”

  “And that cabal o’ gnomes had better be ready ta taste tha antidote ta their schemes.”

  “Our fists!” I growled.

  Kordeun growled with me.

  “That scum was enjoyin’ tauntin’ us…”

  “Everything okay in there?” Orthanq gurgled from the kitchen, having squeezed himself through from the bar.

  “No!” I yelled. “Turns out Yocto was part of ANGST, if that’s what they’re truly called. He tried to take us out with a batch of the poison.”

  “Yer cleanin’ supplies create tha agent, Orthanq. So, don’t go usin’ Noxiclean and Toxiclean together anytime soon.”

  “Really, the reagents could be in anything,” I added. What he had tossed at us could have been just this batch. Anything was suspect at this point.

  “There’s plenty of the stuff in here now for some nondestructive sampling, so no one should come in without protection.”

  “How’re we gonna get outta this?” asked Kordeun.

  Normally, I would have suggested just lighting myself on fire to burn it off, but I did not want to risk Orthanq’s bar, Kordeun’s beard, or the evidence.

  As much as I hated to do it, I thought we needed to call the authorities.

  “Orthanq, could you call the Home Guard? We’re contaminated with so much of the stuff, I would hate to walk outside and risk exposing others to this unnecessarily.”

  “You got it!” Orthanq was already back in the bar, making the call.

  “I’ll speak with Arcwhistle later,” I said to Kordeun.

  “Ya think Arcwhistle was part o’ tha trap?”

  Kordeun’s question was a good one, one I thought about long and hard.

  “No. The Abstract knew too much about him and trusted him too much.

  “I bet ANGST has this bar under surveillance and nabbed the real Yocto before he could make it in to help us.”

  “So, what d’we do next?”

  “We wait for the authorities to come take their evidence and our stories, we get cleaned up, and then we make a call on that gnome.”

  “Assumin’ that’s not him splattered all over tha wall,” Kordeun pointed out.

  “I have a feeling there’s more where he came from, whether that’s our gnome or not.”

  “Aye. My beard’s itchin’, and when it does, it’s tellin’ me some trouble needs ta be scratched out.

  “Those buggers’re worse’n fleas in a troll den. Gonna take a lot o’ scratchin’ ta clear ’em out.”

  I could not have agreed more.

  27

  “Anybody home?” a voice called musically from the bar.

  Whoever it was sounded far too cheerful.

  Orthanq croaked from the kitchen area, which he had reentered after making his call to request the Home Guard, “We’re in the back, but stay out there! I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Will do!” came the upbeat reply.

  After a moment’s hesitation, I heard, “I’m Yocto. Arcwhistle sent me.” The voice was friendly, eager, and pleasant.

  And completely unexpected.

  Kordeun an
d I looked at each other with matching expressions of surprise.

  Yocto was here?

  I was glad to hear he hadn’t been killed or abducted.

  That was good news, at least.

  I looked down at the shattered remains of the gnome at my feet with a mixture of hate and disgust.

  That ANGST bugger must have been watching over us pretty closely to get here and do his business before the real Yocto arrived.

  I called out, “The whole back’s been contaminated by the mutagen! You’ll need protection to stay in the bar!”

  “Not to worry! I have my OOPS on, so no biologicals will affect me.”

  I did not want to know what an OOPS was.

  Probably something like Outstanding Organic Purging System or some other gnomish craziness.

  “I’ll be right back!” For someone about to enter a biological death zone, Yocto—if this really was Yocto—certainly was chipper.

  “Orthanq, why don’t you go out to the bar to keep any other guests safely away?”

  I wanted Orthanq safely away himself in case this was another imposter. I also wanted him to be ready to meet the Home Guard when they arrived without alerting the gnome to their presence.

  Of course, if this was another ANGST member, he probably knew everything that was going on already.

  “Before you come back, Yocto, could you cleanse Orthanq to minimize the risk of spread and isolate the contaminant back here?”

  “Sure thing!”

  A flash of bright, cleansing light washed over Orthanq, bringing back unsavory reminders of not-Yocto’s spectralphotometer blast.

  After finishing with Orthanq, Yocto spread his arms wide in a graceful arc, and a wall of energy appeared to fill the doorway leading to the bar. I assumed this was a seal to contain the contamination.

  Or, if he was another ANGST-loving not-Yocto, maybe it was meant to seal us in here to finish us off.

  I waited until the possibly-Yocto was done with his Craft and Orthanq had smooshed his way back through the door to the bar to call out, “Orthanq, call Arcwhistle and confirm our guest!”

  If this Yocto was an imposter, I wanted others far away from danger to know what had happened here as well.