By Jonathon David Hawkins
Classes were in session as the long, black sedan pulled up to the curb, silent except for the crunch of gravel under white-walled tires. A custodian sneaking a guilty cigarette was the only person to see the two men emerge from the rear doors of the car. Their suits were dark, severe, and immaculate. Their glasses were black, opaque, and gleaming.
The two closed the doors lightly and left the driver in the idling car. Both were tall and pale-skinned. Both paused in the shadow of the low brick building. The man with glossy black curls—trimmed neatly over his ears—sniffed the air like a hound. Or a wolf. The tow-headed man cocked his head to one side as if listening intently, his delicate hair shifting in the light breeze before falling perfectly back into place. They whispered in hushed conference and signaled subtly to the concealed driver before stepping forward into the building.
Black patent leather shoes struck the floor sharply, carrying them without pause to the doors of the main office. Both removed their dark glasses upon entering and tucked them carefully into the breast pockets of their dark suits. The secretary, who had risen to greet them, was momentarily taken aback by their large, bright eyes. The pale-haired man's were a brilliant, luminous green while the other's were a blue so intensely deep they seemed almost lavender in the bright office light.
"M-may I help you?" she stammered before quickly recovering her composure. "Are you expected?"
"Yes," replied the dark-haired man in a soft, resonant voice. "The headmaster of this school should be expecting our arrival.
The woman looked slightly confused, staring into his eyes. "Headmas…? Oh! You mean Principal Harmon! Yes, he's…"
"Right here, Kristen," interrupted the man who had stepped out from an inner office. Principal Harmon's balding head shone redly. He had the softness of inactivity and his narrow tie was too short to cover the paunch of an expanding belly. His smile was oddly horizontal and his eyes looked somewhat confused as he extended his hand in greeting. "Agent Michaels, was it? I'm Principal Harmon."
The figure with the glossy black curls paused briefly, looking at the soft, sweaty hand before clasping it. "Makial, Mr. Harmon. And this is Agent Zachius." The pale-haired man followed Makial's lead and clasped hands with less hesitation. Both men wiped their hands discretely on their pant legs as they followed the administrator into his office.
The principal sank heavily into the chair behind his desk, instantly seeming more at ease. Makial and Zachius lowered themselves carefully into the padded chair opposite him. Their posture was erect and both chose to rest their hands on their knees rather than touch the cracked, green plastic arm rests. Zachius locked his green eyes onto Harmon's watery brown eyes: "You have arranged for us to meet the child Agent Makial contacted you regarding?"
"Umm, yes. About that." The strained, horizontal smile wilted embarrassedly and Harmon lost some of the confidence the barrier of his desk had granted him. "It would seem that… Apparently… I'm afraid that isn't possible today."
Both black-suited men glanced silently at each other before Makial asked: "And why would that be, Principal Harmon?"
The man coughed nervously and polished the dome of his bald head with his sweaty hand. "There was, apparently, some sort of incident between Samuel and another boy. An altercation. Apparently he left the building afterward…"
"Was the child injured?" interrupted Zachius.
"Umm, no. Samuel wasn't hurt at all, as far as…"
"We are confident of Mr. Skinner's ability to defend himself from a child. Was the other student harmed."
"No. Well, not seriously at least. He was pushed down and kicked…"
Makial brushed aside any further comment. "Do you have any idea of Mr. Skinner's current where abouts?"
"Yes. Well. The thing is…" Harmon's hands spidered nervously on the desk. "I'm afraid I’m not totally clear on why you wish to see Samuel or even what agency you…"
Zachius voice, when he leaned forward to interrupt, was quiet but forceful: "We have excellent cause to believe the boy is in some danger, Principal Harmon."
"Far greater danger than a schoolyard bully," added Agent Makial.
"Our local police…"
"Are ill-equipped to handle this situation," assured Makial. "They have been dealt with already."
"It is a matter pertaining to his father," added his partner.
"Mr. Wilkes?" Principal Harmon had looked up sharply from the worried contemplation of his desk. "I've known the Wilkes for years and I can assure you that they are excellent foster…"
"His birth father, Principal Holmes. And he is a far different matter." Zachius' voice communicated immense distaste. "We had hoped to handle the situation more discretely. There was an incident last night, however, which has prompted us to move with more haste. You do not need to know the details this moment, Principal Harmon. In all likelihood, you never shall."
The administrator was wide-eyed and slack-jawed, listening keenly to the words flowing smoothly, forcefully from the agent's hard-lipped mouth. His reservations at their strange and sudden appearance, his flustered irritation at their brusque manner, all faded into a sensation of enthralled compliance. When the tall, lean man in immaculate black suits instructed Harmon to inform them the moment he learned of Samuel Skinner's whereabouts, the principal knew he would comply.
"We know where he lives, Principal Harmon," Agent Makial disclosed in parting. "We know where he works and where he spends his school hours. We will find him. We will save him from what is coming, and Heaven above will not help any who stand in our way."
Samuel glanced with unease over his shoulder as his feet carried him from the side streets of Fallow to the downtown area where the library and work waited for him. It wasn't the fight at school that was bothering him: he was too familiar with that kind of trouble and knew it would blow over soon enough. The looks of disappointment the Wilkes were sure to give him that night would sting, of course, and that was regrettable. But you couldn’t let jack-asses like Kizer push you around. Life was a matter of stand-up or shut-up, and Dan sure as Hell wasn't worth being quiet for.
What bothered him was the dwarfish old man who had accosted him a few blocks back. Stumbling with great speed out of the alley between two houses, the man had collided solidly with Samuel. For one horrible moment, before the strange vagrant rolled off of him and slumped away mumbling, Samuel had been enveloped in a horrifying and unwholesome stench. Shit and piss, sour sweat and alcohol, all mingled with strange incense and strong musk. The smell was tangible; clogging his nostrils and slicking to his tongue like oil. The smell had clung tenaciously to him and even now small whiffs of it released from his cloths, conjuring images of a hunched somehow misshapen (even more so than himself) figure in a tattered longcoat and battered hat.
Distracted and disturbed by the thoughts and the odors that lingered, Samuel did not notice the one other remnant of that collision. A small place on the back of his shirt, half a man's hand in size, was smeared with something that glistened and throbbed lightly in the sunlight.
Wrapped in the darkness of their sedan, Agents Zachius and Makial went steadily about their work, both making calls on sleek black phones. Zachius finished his calls first. He closed his phone with an efficient click and made it disappear into an inner pocket of his suit jacket. The slight bulge made by the slim phone was almost invisible compared to the large bulk that rested against the ribs under his left arm.
Makial didn’t' keep his fellow agent waiting long, disconnecting after a few perfunctory pleasantries. "The librarian says that the boy has not yet arrived there, but that he is expected soon."
Zachius nodded his white-blond head, green eyes staring forward. "The fostering-mother claims he has not been home since leaving for school this morning. Principal Harmon informed her of the boy's truancy, of course."
"Anything else?"
"Yes. When pressed regarding unusual visitors, she mentioned a vagrant passing through the neighborhood this morning."
Makial's blue eyes narrowed. "Nod?"
"Very possibly," acknowledged his partner. "We cannot allow them to get the child. We must save him from the fate Nod carries to him."
"Level of discretion?" asked Makial.
"The time for blades and shadows is past. We will use whatever means necessary. Let's move."
With this simple command to the driver in front of them, the black sedan pulled forward, its twin following close after.