Posts Tagged ‘Sax’

Chapter One

Posted: November 4, 2016 by Ty in Spirituality
Tags: , , , ,

The arrow had struck chest, yet it was not the chest it was aimed at. Speare had done something that if he had thought about it would have fallen under the realm impossible. That’s right, he had vaulted out of the booth almost snake like to tackle sweater down. The chest struck was literally a promotional treasure chest for some Sponge Bob Square Pants Happy Meal toys.

A quick glance up and the screech of truck tires. The shooter was making good an escape. Speare was on his feet and moving out of the restaurant. Not sure if this is something that would fall under the normal restaurant protocols of phoning the police. It was definitely a new one on Speare having a prospective client shot at by a bow and arrow.

By the time he got to the parking lot, the stereo typical fire engine red dually truck was already onto 32 ave NE and flying. Sirens stated that police had been called. It always amazed Speare how each first responder group had their own siren sound. Speare headed back into the restaurant to enjoy his free refill and see if Samuel had any answers as to who would send an assassin archer his way.

Unfortunately once inside, the refill on his McCafe was the easy part. Samuel was no where to be seen. During the futile chase to get a license number, the accountant like man had made his own escape. Speare takes out his flip phone and dials an all to familiar bookstore number.

“Hey Sax why is your hubby referring folks to me?”

Not a very helpful opening line, but it was strange that Natan would refer someone, and not give an inkling that danger could be afoot with the usual deductive fun and games. Speare sipped on his coffee as the constables came in. They looked at the arrow in the display, the shattered glass, and then a Constable Fox noted Speare sipping his coffee.

“Aw fuck me, how did I not know this crazy ass call would somehow involve you?” Fox said. He had been a constable in District five for many years, almost came across some days as a stodgy Irish cop out of Murdoch Mysteries with his world views. But Speare did like him. Speare flipped shut his phone to open up the conversation, Sax hadn’t had time to respond to Speare’s opening salvo anyways, his friend would understand.

“Here’s the quick 411 cause my cuppa is almost done. Bloke name Samuel, looked like an accountant, or that actor out of Little Shop of Horrors, Rick Moranis, had set up a meeting to discuss a case. Our meeting was interrupted by said arrow coming through the window. I went to chase the shooter.” Speare stated.

“And while you nicked out, so did the client.” Fox finished. “Did you at least get the license number?”

“No one ever gets the license number.” They said in unison, sadly this was a dance they had danced more often than either of them wanted to admit to.

Speare continued though, “Didn’t see the shooter, but a dually fire engine read truck bolted out of here heading towards Barlow or Deerfoot at the time after the arrow went through.”

Fox just nodded, scratched some more in his notebook. His partner was handing out statement papers, and checking patrons/staff ID’s. Speare took a paper and wrote out the simplistic tale again just as he had related it. One copy to the cop, another copy to him. He would add it to the collection, two more of these and Speare was certain he could redo the wall paper in his apartment.

The constables cleared the restaurant after recording contact information, and would await some crime scene guys to go over, but really they were not expecting to find much.

Speare headed towards the circle route bus stop that would take him down to the c-train, Sax’s shop was downtown and he needed to go speak with him in person. Maybe either Sax or Natan would have a way of connecting with this mysterious Samuel, or fleshing out a bit more about why someone was shooting arrows at him. Arrows, Speare never for a minute realized he would miss bullets.

 

Sax stared at his store phone. Something was terribly wrong with the referral Natan had made to Speare. Only reason Speare disconnected calls so quickly was either violence or police or both. Yet Sax also did not remember Natan stating he had referred any new people to Speare.

Sax clicks on the speed dial option for home (which is really an upstairs apartment owned with the bookstore). “Hey love, when you get this call back. Something hinky with Speare and some bloke named Samuel.”

The book store door chimes went. He was a smallish Rick Moranis looking man in a sweater vest and bow tie. If Sax was not certain he would swear this man was an accountant from musical theatre. “Hello and Welcome to sax and Such books. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

That’s when the man’s eyes went a brilliant emerald green as he looked right at Sax.

“Where is Natan? Where is my soulmate?”

 


Malcolm stood dumbfounded at Speare’s question. Who had sent him to kill his former friends, and this new player in the game? It had been a phone call, but now the voice and the caller’s name were lost in a memory fog as thick as pea soup.
His mouth felt like it had cotton in it or more apro pos like how a mouth felt after leaving the dentist before the freezing had fully come out. There was throbbing behind his eyes, and a flash of pain across the bridge of his nose that went with the rhythm of the thunder rolling outside. Malcolm’s legs felt like rubber and would not move but he swayed slightly. Speare watched at this display and wondered exactly what would be possible if the large man collapsed, or worse projectile vomited as he pondered what should have essentially been an easy question to answer if he so chose: who had hired him.
The challenge though with these cases that went into the arcane and fantastical is that what should be simple could become more clouded than trying to understand a Marvel Comics relaunch or a Presidential election with Donald Trump as a candidate.
Speare focused in on the eyes of Malcolm, as they moved between red to green to yellow it appeared. “Seriously Malcolm, who sent you?”
Malcom’s left hand pinched his nose as he stumbled forward. “You need to stop asking questions was the message I was given to deliver.”
Sax let out a belly laugh. “Whomever hired you former brother Malcolm, has never met my friend Speare, for he has an insatiable curiosity of the kind that made for a bad end to the proverbial cat, even after he came back.”
Speare smirked, “What the bookseller said.”
Natan had a coughing fit that changed the momentum of the banter, but did not change whether or not the large man’s sudden on come of strange symptomology would change his ability to follow through on the threat.
“Is that a no to stop?” Malcolm asked, although his albino pigment was beginning to look almost green. Speare was more concerned with him becoming ill in such a confined space over fisticuffs at this point. Not a good thing for the hired goon of intimidation to suddenly get quick onset nausea. Speare glanced quick to one of the wooden chairs at the table that was empty, a plan formulating in his mind as Malcolm took more steps forward awaiting an answer. But they were not towards Speare specifically but rather Natan. Targeting the weakest link if you will.
A sheath of lightning crackled across the sky illuminating the darkened seat and room.
Speare moved grabbin the wooden chair. “That is a no.” Malcolm lunged as Speare swung as hard as he could with the wood chair sending it to an early career as toothpicks across the face of Malcolm. Blood and splinters on the floor. The large bald man stumbled back, not down. But dazed with a jagged cut across his nose bridge, eyes beginning to swell a little, blood trickling from the mouth and nose.
A quick left jab finished the nose with a loud crack Speare’s face tore the cartilage of Malcolm sending blood pouring and his eyes popping, but a large right hand swatted Speare up and down through the table. Sax rolled out of the way as a half blind now angry Malcolm swung for his head.
The large thug brought both his large ham hocks together to form a solid axe swing over the stunned and laying in the remains of the table Speare. His knuckles brushed the stucco from the ceiling as he swung them back…
When the oxygen tank squarely hit him in the right temple.
Malcolm’s fists dropped to his side. His eye lids fluttered, slowly his legs collapsed upon themselves as he crumpled to the ground.
Natan stood regally as he lowered the tank down. Slowly took off the oxygen hose and looked at his lover Sax as he offered and outstretched hand to Speare. Speare took the aid in getting up looking rather shocked at the development. “Don’t you…”
“I did, but not anymore. The Entity we knew as Thor…no the entity we knew as John MacCurtis is back. It is time to finish this.”
With the final work a shot of lightning burst through the wall and Sax watched as it landed squarely in the top of Malcolm’s head shooting through the large mans’ body and out his feet. Slowly burning the man from the inside out. The clothes on his back erupt as it was not a usual lighting strike, a message scarified on his back.
Death will find you.


Even confined to the wheel chair, Natan looked like he was about to keel over. Sax had the not so impressed face a spouse gets when the other life partner does what is not in their health’s best interest. But here Natan was, had wheeled himself through the tunnel that connected the shop to the back yard double wide trailer they called home. Speare notes it is one other home he had never been in, much like this being the first time he had ever actually met Natan.

Sax moves from the seat and kisses his soul on the forehead tenderly, he doesn’t even have to ask simply grabs a tumbler and pours three fingers of scotch into the glass. Natan takes it in his long fingers, his skin tone is literally red, not racist red as when one spoke of Aboriginals back at colonizations, no – this was fire truck red or Satan red that his skin was toned as. Speare had always assumed that Sax had been joking when he would call his husband the son of Satan or sprung from the loins of Lucifer.

With the new information Speare was still processing the not necessarily new information, but confirmation of things he had believed around alien contact and governmental conspiracy up to this point on this case.

“You want to know about the borderland.” Natan rasped out.

Speare simply nodded, not wanting to have to extend anything more than necessary. Natan sipped on his drink, and from the little grin Sax gave his spouse, Speare could’ve sworn the red skinned man pinched his husband’s butt.

“It was a crazy time in the bunker, and then I noted the sparks behind MacCurtis’ eyes, the false mask coming off in a split second as he went insane. It was time.” Natan went on as he nursed his drink to walk through the psychic battle. Believing he was battling an alien entity that had presented as a Norse God, only to discover on the borderlands. “It was not about pushing him back into Valhalla, or a wormhole so he could go home. But rather it was a Nephilim, those that many ancient races had risen up to do away with. This soul had hidden away on the Ark, the storehouse of DNA samples before the great catastrophe.”

Speare noted that he needed to catch up on Ancient Aliens to be able to follow this case better. “Yet this parasite had lodged itself in MacCurtis and needed to be rooted out. Took all I had to exorcise if you prefer that word, as the gate to Valhalla was closing.”

“You pulled the Nehilim out and tossed it in?” Speare asked.

Natan’s dry lips cracked a smile as he finished off his drink. “I put his head into the portal before it closed.” A very cold chill ran down Speare’s spine, like a full body brain freeze realizing what Natan had stated. This youngish man had essentially wielded the power to destroy and ancient entity. “At which point MacCurtis who was already de-aging, and myself crashed back into the bunker. Slick had hot wired himself and a rescue team back in. We were flown back to The Agency’s HQ in Winnipeg, debriefed, and I guess to keep with the religious tones of Martyrs, de-frocked.”

“We were decommissioned, and pensioned off back into civilian life at that point Speare. I stayed with Natan until he was discharged from the hospital and we used our monies to buy this piece of paradise.” Sax said. “You already know what happened to MacCurtis, Malcolm vanished. Far as we knew Daemon and Reesa vanished off the grid to wed and pop out babies.”

Speare stroked his whiskers, as he looked at the man in the wheel chair. Chalk white hair down to his shoulders, Vulcan like ears. “What’s your story that seems almost unbelievable what you pulled off within the borderland?”

“My story is simple, I am part-alien, part-human. My mother mated with what the Hebrew Bible would reference as Lucifer. And that is why I was able to tap into the cosmic power to deal with the Nephilim.” Natan stated as one would list their monthly bills to be paid.

Speare nodded, let out a low whistle. Somehow this didn’t seem to shock anymore, he was getting used to rolling with the reveals, like a bad reality television show trying to stave off cancellation.

“So the Slick that saved you, that was Jacqueline’s dad?” Speare asked.

Sax and Natan exchanged quizzical looks and it was Sax that spoke. “Jake “Shades” Slick, was a man-whore, but he never produced a child. The only Jacqueline we knew was…”

“Reesa. It was her first na—“ Natan could not finish the sentence before the fist slammed into the back of his head.


Thunder booms, lighting cascades like a sheet, but still no rain. Speare scratches the stubble on his face, fighting the urge to take up smoking within this situation. Never was one, just seems like something a tough PI would normally do in the old Noir’s like Spade and Marlow, or maybe gourmet cooking like Spenser or drinking like Stone. But instead he is in the plaza of city hall, outside sipping on a double double hoping not to get caught in the rain, waiting on a coffee interview.

The interviewee will hopefully shed some light on the Prophets/Martyr dynamic and the memories surfacing. Sax walked away from the whole thing telling Speare it was a lifetime ago, but did give him this number to call. The number brought him to an active switchboard for the Great Crime Fighters (G.C.F.), the Super Hero set of Canada.

Yes he investigated weird as shit, ghosts, cheaters, the odd demon…but really the super hero stuff he liked to avoid as it was just a whole other level of strange.

The voice was low but echoey, almost mechanical. “Speare I presume.”

He turns, lets his hoody fall away from his bald head as he refocuses on the armoured individual. Scientific bionics, or mythical magic of Merlin, it really didn’t matter what you believed, the golden armoured individual before him had been a Canadian institution for years. “Pendragon.”

“I have recently gone retro and am using Bionic Knight again.”

“My apologies, so Mr. Knight?”

“B.K. will be fine.”

“B.K., thanks for agreeing to meet with me, my book dealer Sax passed on the switchboard number.” Speare looks into the reflective eye slits, was there some way to tell through this armour a reaction, it covers the body, and makes his usual reads impossible. Passerby are gawking.  The mayor had done the big reveal on Election Day officially retiring from his past, but the rest of the G.C.F. had remained masked since their reformation. “It seems that you are all tied into a mystery.”

“And what is this mystery?” The Knight begins walking alongside Speare, in such a way that he begins to manoeuver both of them towards City Hall.  Speare makes a note as they enter the double doors, and Bionic Knight waves off security as they step on the escalator and ride up to the level of offices.

“A woman’s death, I only have a first name and it is…”

“Reesa.” Just outside the Mayor’s office door, John MacCurtis steps out. “Her name is Reesa, that is all we ever knew as well. She killed my family.”

If Speare could see the expression under the helmet, he could’ve sworn this hero was shocked by the Mayor’s admission. “You realize Mr. MacCurtis then that…”

“Makes me prime suspect number one, possibly, but I ain’t no Martyr.” The lightening bathed the sky causing the lights of city hall lights to dip.

Another flickering of the lights. This was the type of things that made Speare strongly dislike working mysteries within the super hero community, they rapidly became conspiracy theories wrapped in science fiction with a dash of occult on a good day. On a bad day you are standing in a hall way in city hall, with the mayor claiming a dead woman killed his family, and a mystical knight beside you as the power was deciding whether or not it wanted to stay on.

The door opens again, and Jaqueline “Shade” Slick steps out with her gun already drawn. Speare couldn’t help but roll his eyes. What truly was this about at this moment?

“Mr. Mayor you need to come back into the office so we can secure it, there are reports of the storm.” Shade said.

“I am tired of the euphemismistic bullshit. It is not a storm you are worried about, you think he is coming for me.” John retorted.

Euphemisms, another layer, just like a bloody Bond file. Speare felt the pain behind his eyeballs returning. He looked from the Bionic Knight to the body guard to the mayor. “Who is coming?”

John looked Speare straight in the eye, his eye contact unwavering. The type of eye contact held that makes someone feel like they are being looked right through. The rumbles of thunder getting closer to the flashes of lightning. The Knight breaks the silence, “we can’t tell him, national security.”

“Fuck, B.K., this has nothing to do with national security, they were bloody kids and we fucked—I fucked up royally with them.” MacCurtis was yelling at this point, other office staff were beginning to move out of their offices, he motions the motley crew back into his office and Slick secures the door behind them.

The Knight lowers himself into an arm chair to the left of the desk, while Speare takes a load off in what can only be described as a womb chair. MacCurtis still visibly shaking moves behind his desk and sits down. John leans back in the chair and steeples his hands as he exhales slowly.

“Speare what do you know about world mythology?”

Speare scratches his head and looks at the mayor. Not where he was believing this conversation to go, but it was a question that touched upon an area of interest for him. “I dabbled a little in Egyptian mythology in grade school, but really Classic and Norse resonated with me quite a bit in Junior and Senior high, probably because of liking Thor and Wonder Woman comics as a kid. What does this have to do with the dead woman?”

Before MacCurtis can answer, Bionic Knight speaks. “Because it is rooted in those ancient tales, truth, and that truth is what caused the Effect many decades ago.”  The Effect was a sky effect that has happened a few times, looks like the Aurora Borealis on steroids cascading across the earth, each time a new wave of Supra beings morphs into reality. “And as much as I hate to admit it, it also speaks to the truth behind Paleo-Seti research and theory.”

Speare smiled, the hero was attempting to use technical terms to baffle him, and so he possibly wouldn’t fan boy out by the governmental agent’s admission that Ancient Aliens held truth. “And the truth of the Ancient Aliens is?”

MacCurtis burst out laughing. “Ah he’s got you there B.K., the truth is not out there, it is here, and has been here for many centuries and millennia. The Effect releases dormant DNA evolutions hidden within some of us. Two of these old buggars are a well-known secret to the Canadian Parliament.  One is well known to the world at large, Zed.”

Speare smirked, where these two having him on. “Zed is an immortal Tibetan monk.”

“Zed is short for Zeus ya dumb ass.” Slick said.

Speare looked at her as she smirked at him. “And don’t get started on Zeus being Greek and Romanized, the man impregnated throughout life as beams of light, ganders, etc…he wants to currently exist as a Tibetan he will.”

“Point taken. So what is so important about Zed?”

“Simple, he guides the heroes, the Prophets, those that break ground on justice and make things right with the world. Currently our little band calls themselves the Great Crime Fighters.” Bionic Knight said.

“And Jung showed us that there is always a shadow.” MacCurtis said.

To which the lightbulb went off, “The shadow were called the Martyrs?”

The Knight nods. “Yes, the Martyrs were a group of lost souls needing direction found by an entity known as Thor. The entity as far as we know had no physical body, it possessed John for a time that this group was up and running, aged him rapidly so he was an old man, played an Xavier role if you will, and this group of lost souls did things to save our world no one can never fathom.”

“Sax was part of this team.” Speare clicked the thoughts together.

“With Reesa.” John MacCurtis confirmed.

 


-A Mayoral Interlude-

The Dodge Caravan. Dogs in back—one for each kid, and each adult don’tcha know, his son and daughter dozing while Brad Paisley sings about Me and Jesus having it all figured out. His wife laughing at his side over some silly joke he had made. The darkened highway on the road suddenly appearing out of the darkness of the high way.

                John’s eyes readjust when his wife motions. Coming back from time in the mountains with Rick and Susan, a nice respite from the mayor’s office. Johnny and Kyler had left alone. Zed was a mysterious monastic that had called them together for the BBQ but then wouldn’t say why the reunion of the Great Crime Fighter’s needed to happen over burgers and dogs.

                From the billows of blackness the form moves, a girl, MacCurtis’ eyes refocus again, he knows the form- a girl.

                “Good Night PinBall.”

The night sky is lit blue with flames.

“Fuck!” sweat pours down the mayor’s body, the flannel sheets were to be a comfort at this time, not a trigger. But the dream—night terror proved the trigger.

A reminder the night his family were killed months ago.

He knew the woman, but who was it? Who could light the night sky blue with fire that destroyed his family and left him with new scars? A flame that vanished with the form as quickly as she had appeared.

Vibration from his night stand. A quick swipe and tap to activate speaker mode on the Smart Phone. “Mayor MacCurtis here.”

“Hey boss update, Speare was here.”

“That’s not an update Shades, your father was Captain Obvious, what does that make you Commander Oblivious?” He knows he shouldn’t be snarky, this is a weird time for the city, and something ominous is about to be let loose. Why is the woman haunting his dreams? Rick thought she was a demon from Gerklyn’s dimension, but that did not seem to set well with John’s soul, even after putting his family to rest. There was something all too familiar about her, and the fact that she knew one of his heroic identities.

“Look Mayoral Asshat—Sorry boss, that was uncalled for.”

John’s eyes go to the clock, 2 a.m., he clicks off the television in his bedroom, a Spenser dvd is droning on replay he had fallen asleep watching. “Look Shades, it’s late or early depending on when one’s day starts. So what is Speare up to?”

Speare was a new player, unfamiliar, a supposed private detective who had done some good in the city, how had he gotten caught up in all the Supra dramas? That is what concerned John, these high level games already killed far too many.

“Natan called me, Sax dropped the Prophets and Martyrs on him, he was in the bookshop asking about…”

“Reesa.”

A woman with darkness billowing around her. John’s eyes refocus as he can in the night on the darkened highway. His heightened hearing hear’s the name she whispers—“PinBall.”

                The voice so familiar, from a time when he tried to play Professor Xavier…working with youngsters who were gifted by the Effect.  The blue flame crackles, his wife screams. The name in his mind gets caught in his throat as he attempts to scream for mercy, but the words—“Reesa please God not my family.” Never clear his mouth….

 


The bookstore awning had fallen in due to the build up of rain. First 8 days of the bloomin’ month and the precipitation total for the month had been reached, never mind the thunder, lightning and hail. Speare chuckled, his Dad always told him that thunder was just Thor’s chariot rattling the heavens.

Cool aside on Thor’s goats, they were great to have around for he could kill and eat them, as long as he laid out the bones on the pelt’s each night they would regenerate. Loki played a trick, and snapped a leg bone one night, so the one goat always had a limp.

But Sax had more answers to this twisting charade.  It was where Shades redirected him after almost blowing his head off in MacCurtis’ office. Thankfully she let him go before the police showed up and sent him to a cell again.  The question that kept reverberating in his mind, there seemed to be a deeper knowing of this murder victim by the name of Reesa, but nothing she would reveal to him.

Sax was trying to hit the Hollywood seen with the display window, as Speare pulled his ball cap down to keep the rain off. Robert Ludlum’s Bourne books. The originals were great, unfortunately since Van Lustbader took over they lost that essential pinnace that made them work. Also the graphic novels of Suicide Squad—the New 52 take was excellent, except for Amanda Waller, re-imagining her as a super model tough bitch kinda sidelined her character, hard to take tough as nails seriously when you know the villain is trying to mind fuck her…ah but he has collections up of the original John Ostrander run and the Rebirth single that brought back the true Waller…the best of both worlds.

That was the eclecticness of Sax’s shop to meet all generations of readers to hit their understanding of the hero, no matter how wrong Speare thought it was.

Sax was elbow deep in book cart shelving the top ten best seller shelf, unlike other stores that used a system where publishers could purchase a spot for release, Sax used an algorithm for internet sales that his partner Natan had designed. So this little indy store actually had an accurate top ten reflection, which baffled publishers with his stock ordering.

“Speare how can I help my insomniac book-a-holic friend, new James Rollins is in.”

Speare shakes his head. “Na, when his books were around 400 pages he was good in the quasi-ancient history conspiracy theory genre, but since making it big and having the co-writer series, he has become pedantic. Although make sure you save a copy of the new Jesse Stone by Coleman, that man is channeling Parker’s ghost for sure.” Sax laughed at this quick assessment, Speare was an enigma to him, hard to know where he came from.

The crow’s feet in Speare’s eyes told a different story. There was a burden on this man’s heart, was he able to break through the fog? Was something coming through that nobody was sure about? “Come to me all who are burdened and weary and I will give you rest.”

“Jesus complex now Sax, seriously?”

“Na, hubby bats for the other team y’know that. Any who, what is troubling you Speare?” Sax moves to a coffee nook and pours two cups.

Speare takes one, and sips. The beauty of caffeine re-entering his system allowing for his mind to calm a little. A simple mindfulness practice that aids in quieting the noise around, the enhanced flurry of data from the world around.

Speare scratches his whiskers as he looks at his long time friend, it suddenly hit him how weird it is that a professional thug (ala Spenserism) would have such a close compatriot that ran a bookstore.  “What aren’t you telling me Sax?”

                Her lips brushed his ear. A little giggle.

                Bullets zing past as the jeep tears over dessert terrain.

                “This is where we live up to the name Martyr’s ya Sexy Beast.”

“Prophets and Martyrs play for keeps but by different rules.” Sax said.