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dochermes“Ladies and Gentlemen, HERE COMES TROUBLE!”
5/16-5/20/2001
I.
Sitting on the front steps outside the KDF headquarters building that morning, Ashley Whitaker was drawing with charcoal in an oversized sketchpad propped up on her knees. At twenty-one, she was at a peak so gorgeous that almost every passerby slowed down for a good look. More than one driver circled the block to check her out again. Only an inch over five feet tall, slim but with proportionate curves, Unicorn had glossy straight hair so blonde it was white, a perfect little face with a cleft chin and upturned nose, and crystal blue eyes that caught the morning sunlight like prisms.
She not only didn’t mind the stares and admiration, she took them for granted and hardly noticed. She had always been pretty, it was just a fact of life. Once in awhile, if she noticed someone looking at her in a pleasant way, she gifted them with an unselfconscious flash of blinding white teeth. But most of her attention today was focused on drawing her namesake, a Unicorn. She was on her fifth attempt, sitting on a wad of crumpled up earlier tries. As she worked, eyebrows lowered, she did not realize her tongue was sticking out until it felt dry.
The massive oak door swung out behind her. Ashley had been careful enough to sit on the steps beyond the door’s arc. Megan Salenger stuck her head out and said, “Hello. Sable asked me to get some information from you.” Slightly older than Unicorn, slightly taller, Megan had a mop of tousled black hair over an inquisitive gamin face. The Trom scientists who had raised her from infancy had hoped to forge an emotionless super-genius but she still showed flashes of feelings she could not disguise.
Megan came out and lowered herself demurely next to Ashley. She was wearing a tan jumpsuit with oil stains at various locations and worn-thin material on elbows and knees. There was a grimy smudge across one cheek that she seemed unaware of.
“Hey there, Science Nerd!” Ashley sang out gleefully. She held up her sketchpad. “Whaddaya think?”
“It is a lovely cow.”
“SO not a cow! Try again.”
The Trom Girl took the sketchpad and scrutinized it. “I believe the short legs misled me. This is an American Bison. Very nice artwork, Ashley.”
Giving her teammate a dubious gaze, the little blonde took the sketchpad back and studied the page herself. “You don’t see a Unicorn…?”
“No. We need to go in and be briefed by our captain.” The Trom Girl rose nimbly to her feet and tugged down her jumpsuit where it had ridden up.
“Oh, okay I suppose.” Unicorn got up, gathered the loose sheets of paper and followed her teammate into the foyer, closing the front door behind them. She did not even notice the badly smitten high school boy who sighed and went on his way after the two young women were gone from sight.
Even though they had already been ID’d earlier that morning, Ashley and Megan had to wait again in the foyer while unseen Trom sensors buzzed and clicked. They were scanned at a cellular level more thoroughly than any MRI could match.
“Maybe I should buy one of those SKETCHING FOR DUMMIES books,” Unicorn grumbled. “I obviously need help.”
That seemed to surprise Megan. “Ashley,” she said, “You already have so many skills and talents.”
“Aw. Thanks! You know you can be incredibly blunt and tactless. But then, when you say something nice, I know you mean it.”
As the inner door unlocked, Megan grasped its handle and gave the faintest of barely perceptible smiles. “I will always be honest with my friends.”
Crossing the front hall to the open door of the reception room, they found Sable at her desk. On to the wall behind her hung a hand-painted map of the world as it had been in 1937, the year Kenneth Dred had bought this building. When they entered, she glanced up. Although the dark eyes remained serious and intense, there was a discernible welcome in them that few people received. Lauren Sable Reilly had managed to sort the stacks of reports, legal notices, bills, letters and newspaper clippings into discrete stacks but she regarded them with a jaundiced expression.
“Take seats, you two,” she said. “I think I’ve spotted something that might stand investigation. The name 'Kovacevic’ has turned up. I have an unpleasant feeling about seeing that name. Listen, Unicorn, what do you think about a girl band called Here Comes Trouble?”
Asking Ashley for her opinion on anything was like breaching a dam so the flood could pour out. “Oh, THEM. They are actually not that bad, I mean sure their gimmick is you have four hot if very young babes on stage and they all end up mostly naked by the end of the show but the music itself is surprisingly decent. Lots of good guitar work by the one with black hair. And the lead singer has an amazing voice, clear and steady and expressive. You know, the one with hair the color of butter. I think she could swing a CD by herself. I bought their second album TROUBLE ON EIGHT LEGS instead of simply downloading it for a listen. My favorite song is “I Don’t Miss My Self-Respect,” but I also like “Conjugal Day.” The only song by them that annoys me is “Handful of Love,” it goes on and on way past its welcome.”
Sable held up a hand to interrupt but Ashley was on a roll. “The whole jailbait thing has been milked before,” she went on, “Whatsername, Britney Spears. That was a hundred years ago. These girls are only more blatant about it. But I’d bet dessert that they are secretly all over eighteen anyway, no matter what the publicity says. For legal reasons. I honestly would like to see them do their music without prancing across the stage in their underwear just to hear them cut loose and really jam..”
“Unicorn. Hold it. That’s enough, thanks. "Sable turned to the Trom Girl. “Megan, do you listen to current music?”
“No,” The single word held immense disapproval.
“Actually, I don’t either,” said their new captain. “No time. But I received a report from one of our observers. He was reading interviews with the members of Here Comes Trouble and the word Kovacevic jumped out at him. Jeremy almost clashed with a shady operator by that name a few years ago. He skipped the country and got away.”
“So, what’s his angle?” asked Unicorn. “Is he a warlock or an Alchemist or what?”
“I’m not completely sure. He is always on the outskirts of the Midnight War but he stays discreet. He was seen with Leopold Vidimar a few times, tying him into Those Who Remember. Karl Eldritch mentioned him in a conversation that was overheard from concealment. All I’m sure about is that he associates with major bad boys in the Midnight War.”
“That is sufficient cause for us to investigate,” Megan suggested.
“I think so, too,” said Sable. “I wish I could send another member with you. Now that Jeremy has finally stepped down, we have to get used to distributing our teams differently. The rest of our members are tied up on other assignments right now. Sheng might be available tomorrow after the Teachers are done with his training. But you two could meet this band and gather some impressions.”
“Go hang out with Here Comes Trouble?” laughed Ashley. “I don’t like it, I love it! Did you get us tickets to their next show?!”
Lauren Sable Reilly held back her smile as he saw Unicorn’s enthusiasm. “No, sorry. But I called in a few favors and you two will be allowed to visit the band during their down time this afternoon. They're staying at the Weigel Hotel on 67th Street.”
Seeming suddenly aware of her battered work jumpsuit, Megan stood up. “If you would dismiss us, captain, I must make myself presentable.”
“Sure,” Sable said. “Report as you find necessary. But listen, Ashley. My instinct is to watch out for this Kovacevic. I know your Unicorn horn can remove anyone's gralic ability but you yourself have no superhuman powers. Take this assignment seriously.”
“Absolutely, captain,” Unicorn assured him. “We are professionals. You can count on us.” As she hurried from the office, she chuckled to herself, “If I don’t join the band…!”
II.
“Good God, you’re not going to wear THAT?” asked Ashley in horrified tones.
Straightening up from where she had been examining the Subaru’s tires, Megan went blank. Many times, she had no idea how to respond to something Unicorn said and was left in helpless silence.
Since this was not expected to be a combat scenario, Megan had not chosen the full field suit. She was wearing regular black sneakers, standard jeans, a blue chambray shirt with two breast pockets and a light black shirt over that, two sizes too large and left unbuttoned. Underneath her clothing, of course, the Trom Girl had the full-body silk-thin armor on. Various tools and devices including the communication Link and her beam projector were in pockets or clipped to her belt. She stared at her teammate, almost paralyzed as she tried to understand the question.
Unicorn saw the baffled expression and relented. “Honey, you’re wearing two shirts with a collar over a collar, that is a fashion faux pas anywhere in Creation. Never mind.” Ashley herself had a coordinated outfit of shoes, slacks and long-sleeved pullover, all white with bright blue trim on cuffs and collar. In one hand, she was holding a white leather sheath three feet long which had a cylindrical shape that tapered to a point. She seldom went anywhere without the actual Unicorn horn that was her namesake and talisman.
“Am I going to be an object of public scorn?” Megan asked with uneasiness in her voice.
“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Ashley said. “You’re naturally cute even without make-up and without brushing your hair. People like you the way they like a puppy.” She opened the rear door of the grey Subaru Outback and carefully stowed the horn on the floor. “This beast ready to roll?”
“Everything has been checked. Ashley, I admit my education was mostly in the hard sciences. There are many details of social interaction that I do not understand.”
When they reached the Weigert, a valet meet them in the entrance to the underground garage but Megan absolutely insisted on driving the car to the slot assigned and securing it herself. She stood with folded arms, looking satisfied, as a man in a brown business suit hurried up to them. They all examined each other’s IDs before proceeding further. The man was Craig Lemish, employee of a security agency who had been escorting the members of Here Comes Trouble for the past five months.
Megan and Ashley were escorted into a restricted elevator at the rear of the parking garage, where the bodyguard had to use a card to gain access. They all rode up in silence. Lemish did not seem hostile, merely exhausted. They emerged into a quiet chilly corridor fitted with marble panels on the walls and Art Deco-style chrome decorations. Subdued lighting came from overhead recesses. Without knocking, the bodyguard opened the door to a elegant six-room suite,
“Act like you’re all alive, girls,” he said. “You have visitors,”
“Not more boys that Scamp dragged in,” moaned a weak voice. “Dammit, Scamp, I’m amazed you can even walk at this point.”
Stepping in a clear area between piles of clothing, food containers, empty whiskey bottles and assorted beauty products, Megan Salenger announced, “We are from the Kenneth Dred Foundation. Please sit up and pay attention.”
On the white and gold couch, two young women reluctantly stirred from where they had been loosely intertwined. A taller girl with tangled jet black hair rousted herself from deep inside the softness of a overstuffed chair. And lurching out through the bathroom door came a petite girl with long, rich yellow hair.
“Who left me in the bathtub?” she demanded without any noticeable outrage. The blonde was wearing yellow-and-black tiger striped bra and panties, plus thin strips of gold fabric wrapped up her shins. “Ow, my liver is hemorrhaging…”
“Shut up, Scamp…” mumbled another girl.
Two other members of Here Comes Trouble were wearing only underwear as well, while the redhead was evidently naked under a fuzzy white bathrobe much too large for her.
Smirking at all the nubile exposed flesh, Unicorn muttered to her partner, “Quick, call Sheng to get over here. I wanna see his eyes bug out, hee hee.”
Ignoring that remark, Megan had unclipped her Link from her belt and was studying its screen. The device hummed and clicked twice before she put it away. “Your liver is not damaged,” she told the blonde. “There is some scarring on one kidney, though, and you are dehydrated. Your blood ethanol concentration is point zero eighty-nine so you will probably vomit soon. Your blood pressure is elevated at one hundred and forty over ninety-one. I would recommend sipping water and resting until your body recovers.”
The girl they called Scamp leaned forward and peered through bleary greenish eyes at her visitor. “What the….? Hey. What else can you tell?”
“You are not sixteen as your publicity material states,” said the Trom Girl evenly. “You are twenty-two. You broke your left wrist in childhood and one of the bones healed crookedly, giving you only eighty per cent use of that hand. Within the past ten days, you underwent a minor surgical procedure…” Megan broke off and glanced over uncertainly at Unicorn. “I believe specifying the exact surgery might reveal some personal details this woman would prefer to keep secret?”
“Damn right it should be secret!” yelled Scamp. “Are you whores from ROLLING STONE? GUITAR LIFE? I want some answers…” Her outburst was cut off as she got her own feet tangled together and fell flat on her face.
“Lucky you had that nice thick carpet for your landing,” Ashley observed.
III.
Fifteen minutes later, room service had brought up a cart bearing an urn of steaming hot black coffee and tray of Danishes. One by one, the band members had been showering and returning freshly scrubbed in hotel robes and slippers. With their hair wrapped up in towel-turbans and without carefully applied professional make-up, the girls looked less enticing than when on stage but also more like real people.
“I need a blood transfusion,” whined Little Angel as she dragged a chair over facing the couch and lowered herself gingerly onto it. She was the drummer, a slightly stocky young woman with feathered black hair framing a round face. “Were we going through the alphabet of booze last night?”
Sitting on the couch with Scamp cuddled up next to her for support was the unofficial leader of the band. Princess was a talented guitarist with a distinctive twangy sound and she also wrote nearly all of the songs. Working with the clear soaring voice of Scamp, it was the guitar of Princess that created the sound of Here Comes Trouble.
Princess’s real name was Jeanne Winstead. The total black of her thick shaggy hair was natural, as was the deep green of her sullen eyes. She sat with one protective arm around Scamp and regarded the intruders with open suspicion. A cigarette smoldered in the fingers of one hand but she had only taken one long drag on it so far.
Marching in from the hall, the bodyguard came over and reported to Princess. “I made twenty phone calls, these two aren’t reporters and they aren’t from the FBI or the police. They’re paranormal investigators. Sheesh.”
Princess thanked him with a grunt and sat up, dislodging Scamp slightly. She glanced over and saw the remaining member of the band, the rhythm guitarist Kitten. The lanky brunette had pulled up a chair to sit next to Unicorn and the two of them were chatting away as if they had know each other for years.
“See, that was my one criticism of Scarab,” Ashley was saying. “Jorge had so many great ideas for songs but Sol and Jan were fighting for leadership so much that they only let him have one crummy song on each album. When Jorge finally got to do a solo album, it was disappointing….”
“Yeah, yeah, it was so weak, I could never sit through the whole thing,” Kitten said. “If you ask me, our band could stand a little variety too. I get one drum solo each concert and only one of my songs was on TROUBLE ON EIGHT LEGS.”
“Hey! Kitten!” yelled Princess from the couch. “Band business is for the band. Your new best friend forever doesn’t need to know it, okay?”
Ashley had unbuckled the strap across her chest and was holding the white leather sheath in both hands with its flat end resting on the beige carpet. The band members stared curiously at the three foot long object with its pointed end but seemed baffled as to what it could be. The Unicorn grinned cheerfully at their puzzled faces.
Remaining on her feet, Megan Salenger stood with folded arms in the center of the room and inspected Here Comes Trouble as if impatient for them to get ready. 'My partner and I are not here because any of you women are suspected of crime,” she began. “That is not the KDF’s agenda in any case. We are concerned with protecting people from inexplicable and little understood threats.”
“I think I’m still high,” whined the drummer Little Angel. “‘Fling’ is a hellava drug. Are you telling us that you've ghost busters?!”
“That is accurate enough. I understood that your manager travels with you? Where is he?”
“Carl? He was supposed to be meeting with some big shots from Sony today.” Princess was staring at the visitors more intently than before. “Are you two wasting our time? I don’t believe in haunted houses or fairies in the garden. We didn’t ask for any psychic investigators!”
“Where is the voice coach? Kovacevic?” the Trom Girl demanded in a suddenly sterner tone.
At this point, Scamp seemed to have an entire apple turnover in her mouth. The blonde singer said, “Mmmmph Mmmm?"
“Perhaps someone else can answer?” Megan persisted. “Where is this man Kovacevic?”
“Right behind you...” came a deep, heavily-accented voice.
IV.
The atmosphere in that suite shifted to tension and uneasiness. Both Tel Shai knights spun to face the newcomer. Andreas Kovacevic had been remarkably tall in his prime but age had bent him so he stared at them from almost the same face level. The long straight hair, slicked back with some pomade, was streaked heavily with dirty grey strands and the pointed goatee had gone thin. Kovacevic was well-dressed in a tailored black suit with a starched white shirt and floppy loosely-tied ascot. But the clothing hung loosely off him as if off a scarecrow.
The reputed mastermind came into the suite, leaning on a thin walking stick with a grip carved into the likeness of an eagle's head, and sank heavily into an empty chair. Hopping up and rushing over to the kitchenette, the drummer Little Angel handed him a tumbler of ice water.
“Did you get some sleep, Maestro?” she asked.
“As well as can be expected, my dear,” he said. “Thank you.” He gulped down the ice water and sighed, then turned his attention to Megan and Ashley. “I seem to smell the sharp mint of...Tagra! Can it be? Are we honored with the presence of knights of Tel Shai?”
Unicorn scoffed. “That’s a neat trick. So, Mr Kovacevic, what’s your exact relationship with these underage girls?”
“Better you ask them yourself,” he said as he placed the empty tumbler on an end table extended to him. “My darlings, would you care to explain?”
“He’s my voice coach!” shouted the blonde called Scamp. “He has done AMAZING work. I never thought I could sing good enough for a neighborhood birthday party but Maestro has believed in me. He taught me everything.”
“Our Maestro has worked with all of us,” added Princess sharp!y. “We all are better singers because of his patience. And he knows music theory, he understands pacing and hooks and most important, what to leave out. I don’t appreciate the way you talked to him, girlie. Keep your insinuations to yourself.”
Kovacevic had deep furrows in his brow, and the dark sunken eyes were sad. “You are not the first to intrude here, feeling concern over the band. Believe me, there is no cause for worry. These young ladies have been treated well and given a rare opportunity. Girls, are you here freely of your own choice?”
“Hell yeah,” said Princess. She got to her feet, retying the sash of the bathrobe around a narrow waist. “I have always wanted to make music. When I was six, I tried making my own guitars outta stuff around the house. Now I stand on stage and see fifty thousand people who paid good money to hear me play. It’s a rush. I’m never giving it up.”
From her chair by Unicorn, the drummer Little Angel spoke up. “I never had no money. My mom worked two jobs and couldn't try any harder than she did. I always looked forward to Monday morning because school meant a hot lunch. Now I’ve got money in the bank and I can send some cash home to help out.”
Holding up his hands, palms raised beseechingly, the mysterious voice coach asked, “Do you see any reason to think these young ladies are being misused? The fact I have taken rooms on another floor of this hotel gives them privacy. As zealous as Tel Shai knights have been known to be, I think even you must admit there is no cause for worry about their treatment.”
At the point, Princess disentangled herself from Scamp and stood up to face Megan Salenger at arm’s length. “You know, we didn’t ask you two to come here. You’re not the police. Has any of our families hired you to babysit us? I didn’t think so.”
The Trom Girl exchanged a quick glance with Unicorn, then softened her voice. “It is still my duty to inform you that your trainer here has a shady past with criminal connections…” She broke off and seemed to lose her concentration. For a long second, she stood there uncertainly.
Ashley Whitaker jumped up off her chair, clutching the sheathed horn in one hand as she took her teammate by the arm with the other. Her demeanor had shifted dramatically from the breezy girl who had been chatting with Little Angel about rock music. Now there was a sudden edge to her voice. “Time to go, Megs.” She led the oddly docile Trom Girl toward the door of the suite.
Pausing in the doorway, the little blonde gave Here Comes Trouble a piercing glare. “Don’t think this is over by a long shot,” she warned everyone. Just before she dragged Megan out into the corridor, she saw the insufferably smug leer on Scamp's face.
V.
Out in the hall, Ashley led her dazed teammate around a corner and found an ornate mahogany bench with a cushioned surface. Checking to see they had not been followed, she pressed Megan to have a seat. The Trom Girl shook her head, took a few deep breaths and came back to normal.
"That was unexpected," she said to Ashley. "My thinking processes lost their focus. I was not drugged, since I did not eat or drink anything and any toxin in the air would have affected you as well. Perhaps I need a medical exam?" A hint of alarm crept into her voice. "Perhaps there is something wrong with me."
Unicorn had shrugged out of the strap holding the sheath across her back. She took one of Megan's hands and held it to the white leather. "Whaddaya think?"
"It is warmer than air temperature," Megan responded promptly. "Even taking into account that it has been in contact with your body, this material is fourteen degrees above what it should be. I don't understand."
"It means your brain is okay. Listen. My Unicorn horn is ensorcelled. It reacts to harmful gralic energy by getting warmer and that's what protects me. It's absorbing the magick that would be affecting me otherwise. I felt it heat up the same time you got all dopey in there."
The Trom Girl straightened up. "I was being attacked with gralic force! Obviously, it was Kovacevic. He has some hypnotic power."
"Dead on target, Science Nerd," said Ashley as she carefully leaned the sheathed horn up against the bench. "And I have a surprise for you." She reached inside her jacket and pulled out two bright yellow plastic tags on coiled lanyards. Each had a large red number on its surface.
"These seem to be passes of some sort," Megan observed uncertainly. "Yes. They say, 'Full Access' with the name of the band and have a security code on the bottom."
"I guarantee those girls will never notice these are missing. That room had so much clutter and garbage it would take archaeologists to find anything." She handed one of the passes to her teammate. "Seems like we'll be listening to tonight's concert from backstage, buddy."
The Trom Girl examined the pass and stowed it in a pocket. "I am not eager to experience their music at full volume. Nor do I look forward to mingling with their fans. Still, these are a great advantage in our investigation. Thank you, Ashley."
The little blonde cocked her head and grinned. "Wait, wait, I know that expression. You're up to something. Am I right, tell me I'm right, of course I'm right."
Megan unclipped her Link from the side of her belt and made an adjustment. She allowed herself the faintest of smiles. "Set yours to 'input' at channel 6," she said.
"Sure." Unicorn got her own Link, tapped two buttons and held it up to her ear, flipping the white-blonde hair back out of the way. After a second, she chortled and reached over to punch Megan lightly on the upper arm. "Why, you...! This is great."
"I placed a transmitter button on the underside of a chair when everyone watched Scamp fall on her face," Megan said. "The transmitters have an adhesive backing."
"Sounds like they're arguing about which song to close the show with. Princess wants a rocking fast version of 'I Don't Miss My Self-Respect.' And Scamp is insisting on a slow sad version of 'Not Another Morning After.'" She continued to listen, obviously as interested in the musical details as in hoping to hear something incriminating. "Hmm, I think Scamp has a point, it'd leave the audience all mushy as they straggle out to the parking lot.."
With her own Link pressed to an ear, the Trom Girl seemed just as deep in thought but more critical. After five minutes of listening to Here Comes Trouble fighting among themselves, Megan announced, "I do not hear Kovacevic joining the discussion. He coughed once."
The two KDF members continued to sit on that bench, taking in the debates from that suite just down the hall. After fifteen minutes, Unicorn lowered the device and rubbed her ear gingerly. "Not as fascinating as I would have thought. They're still going on about revising lyrics and adding a jam toward the end. I thought there would be, you know, something juicy. A love affair between two band members or paying too much for heroin, you know? These girls are a little serious about their music."
Seeing Megan motion her to keep listening, Ashley quickly put the Link up to her other ear.
"...three hours before showtime, Maestro," came Scamp's voice. "Time for my voice lesson. I can't hit those notes without your spell."
"I tell you, I cannot do this anymore," said the accented tones of Kovacevic. "The infusion of energy is killing me. Everyday my hair is greyer, my face more lined... I refuse, I tell you!"
Scamp cackled gleefully. "That's what YOU think. Bet I can change your mind."
"Come on, ladies," called a third voice, possibly the lead guitarist Princess. "Let's go down to the lobby and sign a few autographs for the hotel staff. We don't need to watch this again."
Other voices grumbled, there was rustling of cloth and one complaint of 'What happened to my shoes with the glitter?' before the KDF members heard a door close a bit too emphatically than was necessarey.. Both Megan and Ashley glanced up, but they were safely around a corner and out of the line of sight. A minute later, elevator doors hissed open and shut.
Over the Links, they heard Kovacevic plead, "No, no, let me leave. This is draining me."
"Hee hee, I'll drain you all right," Scamp laughed. The KDF members heard wet slurping sounds and Kovacevic moaning.
Megan Salenger hastily lowered the Link and switched it off. Her cheeks had turned bright red as if she had a fever.
"Aw, you're so cute!" Unicorn teased, shaking her teammate by the shoulders. "My God, those Trom who raised you left you a wee bit sheltered, didn't they?"
Getting hold of her reactions, Megan had to clear her throat before she could speak. "I think... I think we know now that Kovacevic is not necessarily the insidious mastermind manipulating these young women."
"No fooling." Ashley was still glued to her Link. "Sounds to me like Scamp is convincing him to do whatever she wants. Okay, they're done. You can listen again without getting flustered."
"..after the show, Princess will take care of you," came Scamp's voice, "She'll ride you like a cowgirl at a rodeo. Look, you know you can't do better than us. We're primo. Time for my voice lesson."
"Very well," said Koveceic wearily. "I must concentrate. When I tell you, begin vocalizing the scales."
"This red glow used ta scare me," Scamp laughed. "Now I like it. I sting all over in a good way."
Megan lowered her Link and thumbed a few buttons. "I'm setting this to record everything for the rest of the day," she said. "We will never use it in court, of course, but I believe Sable will want to evaluate the situation."
Turning off her own device and clipping it to the small of her back, Ashley pouted slightly. "Damn it. I just realized this means Scamp is not really that good a singer. I loved her voice on the first album, too."
"Kovacevic is enhancing her abilities with gralic force." Megan Salenger slowly got to her feet and tugged her jacket down. "He is not entirely to blame here. Obviously, the members of the band are... enticing him to use his gralic arts for their benefit."
"Are we gonna get going now?" Unicorn asked. "The band is playing at the Fulton Center tonight. In just a few hours actually."
The Trom Girl was frowning and did not answer immediately. "Ashley, I am at a loss. I do not know if there is wrongdoing here that justifies our intervention. The young women in the band are evidently not being victimized. A case could be made though that Kovacevic is being misused but I think he would not want us to step in and end this arrangement."
"Hah! I bet he wouldn't. Those are some sexy girls in Here Comes Trouble. You know how many millions of guys daydream about Scamp or Princess? At his age, I'm sure Kovacevic thinks he's getting a great deal."
"Let's report to Sable," Megan said uncertainly. "Something unresolved is bothering me about this situation."
She started walking toward the elevator and Ashley followed with the sheathed Unicorn horn in hand. As the elevator doors slid open with a ding, Ashley muttered, "Scamp can't really sing. Me golden idol is tarnished, Megs."
VI.
At nine-thirty that night, Megan and Ashley walked up Clancy Street in lower Manhattan. They had changed appearance dramatically. The Unicorn was wearing a tight short white skirt and black long-sleeved pullover, striding on high heels with dark stockings showing off her toned legs. She still carried the actual Unicorn horn in its sheath across her back, but in this outfit the diagonal strap accentuated her breasts. Ashley was never self-conscious but the same could not be said of her teammate.
Next to her, almost cringing, Megan Salenger was wearing a crimson sleeveless dress that Ashley had picked for her that day. Her short black hair had been teased and fluffed out, she wore shoes with a moderate arch and all her usual gear had been crammed into a single black leather shoulder bag hanging from a fine-linked gold chain.
As they passed the show window of a furniture store, the Trom Girl stopped short and took in a sharp breath. "Ashley! Look at me! I'm painted like a circus clown."
Standing beside her friend, the Unicorn laughed. "What? You look great. All I put on you was some blush, a little mascara and lip gloss. You're gorgeous, Megs. To be honest, I should worry you'll take attention away from me."
"Are you sure? Maybe I am over-reacting." She studied her reflection dubiously, turning her head from side to side.
Ashley linked one arm with Megan conspiratorily. "You know what I think? The Trom Council raised you so you could win the Nobel Prize in physics or chemistry or biology or a hunnerd other sciences. But they should have had an older woman come in once a week to teach you some basic cosmetology. You never had nail polish on before, did you?"
"No." Megan suddenly smiled and her face lit up. "I see women made up in public and everyone seems to admire them. I should trust you, Ashley."
"Truer words were never spoken." Unicorn dug in Megan's handbag and pulled out the Full Access passes. "Here, hang this arouund your swanlike neck."
"My what?"
"Never mind. Come on. The concert should be in its second half by now."
They went past a private parking lot with a roped off area that had a gleaming stretch limo with a driver seated patiently behind the wheel. Next to the lot was the back door of the Fulton Arena, with its two lights in glass bowls and various warning signs. Flanking that door were two burly hulks in dark suits and mirrored sunglasses even at this hour. One was a black man with a shaved head and a permanent scowl. The other was a grizzled white man with long hair and a drooping mustache. Being intimidating was a job requirement for them.
Yet Ashley breezed past them with a dazzling smile, holding up her pass as she opened the door and ushered Megan inside first. The little blonde's unshakeable confidence had gotten her into many places where she had no business being. As she closed the door behind them, she heard one of the security men chuckle, "Those two should be in the band as well." Ashley smirked and gave Megan an immensely satisfied smirk.
Inside, the booming thump of the concert overhead could be felt in the air. Moving briskly down a long corridor with doors marked MAINTENANCE and STAGE SUPPLIES, the two KDF members stopped at a final door by a heavyset man in a dark blue uniform with a white shield emblem on the left shoulder. He was sitting in a folding metal chair and he was not impressed with either the way they looked or their self-assurance. Holding out a hand without rising, the guard took a suspicious look at their passes.
"Say, these are from last night's show," he growled as he looked up at the two young women. "You can't pull this stuff on me."
Megan Salenger had reached into her handbag and removed a small flat electronic device with a bulb on one end. As the guard started to rise, she thumbed the contact patch. The neural shock beam played over the man and he sagged back down into the chair with his head dropping over to one side.
"Man, I coulda used that gizmo on our housekeeper when I was trying to sneak out as a kid," Ashley said with a grin. "Is he all right?"
The Trom Girl had set the man's head up resting forward, then folded his arms across his ample stomach as if he had fallen asleep. "I used a low-intensity burst," she said. "I estimate he will wake up within thirty minutes but be groggy for a short period after that." She replaced the beam projector into her handbag and turned toward her teammate.
"Time to rock and roll, so to speak," Unicorn said. She tried the dressing room door and found it was unlocked. As if she had been invited, Unicorn boldly marched in and saw Kovacevic in his trance.
VII.
The dressing room was large but seemed small because it was jammed so full of an amazing variety of items. A long table against one wall held two loaves of sliced sourdough rye bread and a tray of raisin bagels, with jars of honey and jam and chunky peanut butter, folded rows of sliced ham, roast beef and various cheeses. A cooler on the floor held dozens of bottles of Fiji Water, Red Bull Green, and Welch's grape juice in a bed of crushed ice There were three clear bowls of peanut M&Ms mixed with Reese's Pieces, a dish of grapes and figs, open bags of pretzels and potato chips, a bubbling coffee pot and all the associated tumblers, mugs, silverware, napkins and saucers. Bottles of Absolut Vodka and Patron Silver Tequila were scattered everywhere, most of them already empty.
Mostly, there were clothes in piles and stacks and stray garments on nearly every available surface. It looked exactly as if the four members of Here Comes Trouble had gathered up the vast jumble of loose clothes from their suite at the Weishaupt and transplanted them here.
None of this made more than a passing impression on either Megan or Ashley. Their attention was focused on the sole occupant of the room. Leaning back in an overstuffed easy chair, arms dangling over its side, Kovacevic was not aware of their entrance. His mouth hung open and his eyes were rolled up in his head until only the whites showed.
"Sheesh. Is he alive?" whispered Ashley, stepping over a tangle of bras and ankle socks.
"I can see his breathing is steady and unobstructed. Let me check his pulse. It's a little weak but only.. fifty-five beats a minute." The Trom Girl lowered the man's wrist. "He is in a trance, I do not think our presence is even registering with him."
Ten feet from where Kovacevic sat was a huge video monitor showing the concert upstairs. Ashley bent over to get a closer look. "Huh. Scamp is down to her undies, Princess only has a long T-Shirt. OBVIOUSLY nothing under it. I know that's their gimmick but honestly..."
"Ashley," Megan interrupted. "Does this man seem more haggard than he did a few hours ago?"
Unicorn came over and regarded the mystic critically. "Hmm. Absolutely. You know, I see his beard has a lot more white in it than it did this afternoon. His skin looks really dry. Is he dehydratred?"
"Yes," she said. "I read his KDF file on my Link just before we arrived. According to his passport and police records, this man is thirty-nine years old, Ashley."
Unicorn scoffed. "No. Way. He looks to me like he's in his late sixties after a lifetime of debauchery." She straightened up and stepped back a few paces. "Do you think all the shenanigans with those girls did this to him? Hah."
"Seriously, no. Of course not. Is the one called Scamp singing?"
Unicorn glanced over at the monitor. 'Yeah. She's doing a ballad, 'Picking Which Boyfriend.' Sounds pretty good."
"This man is projecting gralic force to enhance her voice. This is not my area of expertise, but I think the process is stressful enough that it is aging him prematurely."
"Well, it's his choice," Ashley said but she sounded uncertain. "What do you think?"
"I estimate he cannot survive like this more than another month, maybe two. It would be fair to say he is killing himself for sex. My opinion is we should intervene. He may well recover without the draining of his lifeforce and even regain normal vitality.'
Slowly, reluctantly, Ashley Whitaker unslung the white leather sheath from her back and unsnapped its catch. She drew out a lovely spiral of ivory, three feet long, tapering to a dangerous point. The flat end was capped with ornate silver. "I guess you're right. It's the end of Here Comes Trouble but I figure they're kind of a fraud band anyway. Their music depends on literally sucking the life out of someone."
The Trom Girl nodded in agreement. Unicorn sighed, raised the ancient talisman over her head and called out, "With this horn I remove thy power!"
An oppressive weight in the air abruptly lifted. Kovacevic suffered a coughing jag, convulsed and then was still again. He began to snore. Together, Ashley and Megan turned to watch the chaos on the monitor. Scamp's voice had grown flat and weak, and it trailed off as she became aware. The girl dropped her microphone in her confusion, tried to say something but finally spun on one bare heel and sprinted off the stage.
The audience was howling in outrage and anger. Thinking quickly, Princess stepped to center stage and launched into a fast guitar solo that was her trademark number. The crowd settled down slightly but many kept yelling and demanding to know what had happened.
Megan was examining Kovacevic. "His pulse is strong at seventy beats per minute. The tension in his neck and shoulders has eased. I do not think he will require medical attention."
Resheathing her horn, Unicorn tugged on her partner's arm. "Ummm. Megan? We should scram before Scamp runs down here to see what's wrong with her mentor!"
The Trom Girl was surprised at the thought but immediately agreed. "Yes. I hadn't considered that. She may be angry with us."
"Ya think?!" Ashley yanked the Trom Girl through the dressing room door and around a bend in the corridor outside just as they heard the slapping of bare feet drawing closer.
"Maestro? Maestro! What the hell is wrong with you?" screamed Scamp's voice.
Ashley led Megan down a side hallway away from the scene and found an exit door. Nowhere did it say that alarms would sound, so she took a chance and pressed the horizontal bar. They stepped out into an alley that held a green metal dumpster and some broken chairs. Clancy Street could be seen from where they stood.
"It occurs to me that we could have been charged with trespassing," Megan said. "We did enter the building under false pretenses."
Ashley started heading up the block toward where they had left their car. "Aw, we Tel Shai knights serve justice, not the law," she said and held up a handful of peanut M&Ms. "Here, I liberated these from the dressing room. Take a few."
8/26/2017
5/16-5/20/2001
I.
Sitting on the front steps outside the KDF headquarters building that morning, Ashley Whitaker was drawing with charcoal in an oversized sketchpad propped up on her knees. At twenty-one, she was at a peak so gorgeous that almost every passerby slowed down for a good look. More than one driver circled the block to check her out again. Only an inch over five feet tall, slim but with proportionate curves, Unicorn had glossy straight hair so blonde it was white, a perfect little face with a cleft chin and upturned nose, and crystal blue eyes that caught the morning sunlight like prisms.
She not only didn’t mind the stares and admiration, she took them for granted and hardly noticed. She had always been pretty, it was just a fact of life. Once in awhile, if she noticed someone looking at her in a pleasant way, she gifted them with an unselfconscious flash of blinding white teeth. But most of her attention today was focused on drawing her namesake, a Unicorn. She was on her fifth attempt, sitting on a wad of crumpled up earlier tries. As she worked, eyebrows lowered, she did not realize her tongue was sticking out until it felt dry.
The massive oak door swung out behind her. Ashley had been careful enough to sit on the steps beyond the door’s arc. Megan Salenger stuck her head out and said, “Hello. Sable asked me to get some information from you.” Slightly older than Unicorn, slightly taller, Megan had a mop of tousled black hair over an inquisitive gamin face. The Trom scientists who had raised her from infancy had hoped to forge an emotionless super-genius but she still showed flashes of feelings she could not disguise.
Megan came out and lowered herself demurely next to Ashley. She was wearing a tan jumpsuit with oil stains at various locations and worn-thin material on elbows and knees. There was a grimy smudge across one cheek that she seemed unaware of.
“Hey there, Science Nerd!” Ashley sang out gleefully. She held up her sketchpad. “Whaddaya think?”
“It is a lovely cow.”
“SO not a cow! Try again.”
The Trom Girl took the sketchpad and scrutinized it. “I believe the short legs misled me. This is an American Bison. Very nice artwork, Ashley.”
Giving her teammate a dubious gaze, the little blonde took the sketchpad back and studied the page herself. “You don’t see a Unicorn…?”
“No. We need to go in and be briefed by our captain.” The Trom Girl rose nimbly to her feet and tugged down her jumpsuit where it had ridden up.
“Oh, okay I suppose.” Unicorn got up, gathered the loose sheets of paper and followed her teammate into the foyer, closing the front door behind them. She did not even notice the badly smitten high school boy who sighed and went on his way after the two young women were gone from sight.
Even though they had already been ID’d earlier that morning, Ashley and Megan had to wait again in the foyer while unseen Trom sensors buzzed and clicked. They were scanned at a cellular level more thoroughly than any MRI could match.
“Maybe I should buy one of those SKETCHING FOR DUMMIES books,” Unicorn grumbled. “I obviously need help.”
That seemed to surprise Megan. “Ashley,” she said, “You already have so many skills and talents.”
“Aw. Thanks! You know you can be incredibly blunt and tactless. But then, when you say something nice, I know you mean it.”
As the inner door unlocked, Megan grasped its handle and gave the faintest of barely perceptible smiles. “I will always be honest with my friends.”
Crossing the front hall to the open door of the reception room, they found Sable at her desk. On to the wall behind her hung a hand-painted map of the world as it had been in 1937, the year Kenneth Dred had bought this building. When they entered, she glanced up. Although the dark eyes remained serious and intense, there was a discernible welcome in them that few people received. Lauren Sable Reilly had managed to sort the stacks of reports, legal notices, bills, letters and newspaper clippings into discrete stacks but she regarded them with a jaundiced expression.
“Take seats, you two,” she said. “I think I’ve spotted something that might stand investigation. The name 'Kovacevic’ has turned up. I have an unpleasant feeling about seeing that name. Listen, Unicorn, what do you think about a girl band called Here Comes Trouble?”
Asking Ashley for her opinion on anything was like breaching a dam so the flood could pour out. “Oh, THEM. They are actually not that bad, I mean sure their gimmick is you have four hot if very young babes on stage and they all end up mostly naked by the end of the show but the music itself is surprisingly decent. Lots of good guitar work by the one with black hair. And the lead singer has an amazing voice, clear and steady and expressive. You know, the one with hair the color of butter. I think she could swing a CD by herself. I bought their second album TROUBLE ON EIGHT LEGS instead of simply downloading it for a listen. My favorite song is “I Don’t Miss My Self-Respect,” but I also like “Conjugal Day.” The only song by them that annoys me is “Handful of Love,” it goes on and on way past its welcome.”
Sable held up a hand to interrupt but Ashley was on a roll. “The whole jailbait thing has been milked before,” she went on, “Whatsername, Britney Spears. That was a hundred years ago. These girls are only more blatant about it. But I’d bet dessert that they are secretly all over eighteen anyway, no matter what the publicity says. For legal reasons. I honestly would like to see them do their music without prancing across the stage in their underwear just to hear them cut loose and really jam..”
“Unicorn. Hold it. That’s enough, thanks. "Sable turned to the Trom Girl. “Megan, do you listen to current music?”
“No,” The single word held immense disapproval.
“Actually, I don’t either,” said their new captain. “No time. But I received a report from one of our observers. He was reading interviews with the members of Here Comes Trouble and the word Kovacevic jumped out at him. Jeremy almost clashed with a shady operator by that name a few years ago. He skipped the country and got away.”
“So, what’s his angle?” asked Unicorn. “Is he a warlock or an Alchemist or what?”
“I’m not completely sure. He is always on the outskirts of the Midnight War but he stays discreet. He was seen with Leopold Vidimar a few times, tying him into Those Who Remember. Karl Eldritch mentioned him in a conversation that was overheard from concealment. All I’m sure about is that he associates with major bad boys in the Midnight War.”
“That is sufficient cause for us to investigate,” Megan suggested.
“I think so, too,” said Sable. “I wish I could send another member with you. Now that Jeremy has finally stepped down, we have to get used to distributing our teams differently. The rest of our members are tied up on other assignments right now. Sheng might be available tomorrow after the Teachers are done with his training. But you two could meet this band and gather some impressions.”
“Go hang out with Here Comes Trouble?” laughed Ashley. “I don’t like it, I love it! Did you get us tickets to their next show?!”
Lauren Sable Reilly held back her smile as he saw Unicorn’s enthusiasm. “No, sorry. But I called in a few favors and you two will be allowed to visit the band during their down time this afternoon. They're staying at the Weigel Hotel on 67th Street.”
Seeming suddenly aware of her battered work jumpsuit, Megan stood up. “If you would dismiss us, captain, I must make myself presentable.”
“Sure,” Sable said. “Report as you find necessary. But listen, Ashley. My instinct is to watch out for this Kovacevic. I know your Unicorn horn can remove anyone's gralic ability but you yourself have no superhuman powers. Take this assignment seriously.”
“Absolutely, captain,” Unicorn assured him. “We are professionals. You can count on us.” As she hurried from the office, she chuckled to herself, “If I don’t join the band…!”
II.
“Good God, you’re not going to wear THAT?” asked Ashley in horrified tones.
Straightening up from where she had been examining the Subaru’s tires, Megan went blank. Many times, she had no idea how to respond to something Unicorn said and was left in helpless silence.
Since this was not expected to be a combat scenario, Megan had not chosen the full field suit. She was wearing regular black sneakers, standard jeans, a blue chambray shirt with two breast pockets and a light black shirt over that, two sizes too large and left unbuttoned. Underneath her clothing, of course, the Trom Girl had the full-body silk-thin armor on. Various tools and devices including the communication Link and her beam projector were in pockets or clipped to her belt. She stared at her teammate, almost paralyzed as she tried to understand the question.
Unicorn saw the baffled expression and relented. “Honey, you’re wearing two shirts with a collar over a collar, that is a fashion faux pas anywhere in Creation. Never mind.” Ashley herself had a coordinated outfit of shoes, slacks and long-sleeved pullover, all white with bright blue trim on cuffs and collar. In one hand, she was holding a white leather sheath three feet long which had a cylindrical shape that tapered to a point. She seldom went anywhere without the actual Unicorn horn that was her namesake and talisman.
“Am I going to be an object of public scorn?” Megan asked with uneasiness in her voice.
“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Ashley said. “You’re naturally cute even without make-up and without brushing your hair. People like you the way they like a puppy.” She opened the rear door of the grey Subaru Outback and carefully stowed the horn on the floor. “This beast ready to roll?”
“Everything has been checked. Ashley, I admit my education was mostly in the hard sciences. There are many details of social interaction that I do not understand.”
When they reached the Weigert, a valet meet them in the entrance to the underground garage but Megan absolutely insisted on driving the car to the slot assigned and securing it herself. She stood with folded arms, looking satisfied, as a man in a brown business suit hurried up to them. They all examined each other’s IDs before proceeding further. The man was Craig Lemish, employee of a security agency who had been escorting the members of Here Comes Trouble for the past five months.
Megan and Ashley were escorted into a restricted elevator at the rear of the parking garage, where the bodyguard had to use a card to gain access. They all rode up in silence. Lemish did not seem hostile, merely exhausted. They emerged into a quiet chilly corridor fitted with marble panels on the walls and Art Deco-style chrome decorations. Subdued lighting came from overhead recesses. Without knocking, the bodyguard opened the door to a elegant six-room suite,
“Act like you’re all alive, girls,” he said. “You have visitors,”
“Not more boys that Scamp dragged in,” moaned a weak voice. “Dammit, Scamp, I’m amazed you can even walk at this point.”
Stepping in a clear area between piles of clothing, food containers, empty whiskey bottles and assorted beauty products, Megan Salenger announced, “We are from the Kenneth Dred Foundation. Please sit up and pay attention.”
On the white and gold couch, two young women reluctantly stirred from where they had been loosely intertwined. A taller girl with tangled jet black hair rousted herself from deep inside the softness of a overstuffed chair. And lurching out through the bathroom door came a petite girl with long, rich yellow hair.
“Who left me in the bathtub?” she demanded without any noticeable outrage. The blonde was wearing yellow-and-black tiger striped bra and panties, plus thin strips of gold fabric wrapped up her shins. “Ow, my liver is hemorrhaging…”
“Shut up, Scamp…” mumbled another girl.
Two other members of Here Comes Trouble were wearing only underwear as well, while the redhead was evidently naked under a fuzzy white bathrobe much too large for her.
Smirking at all the nubile exposed flesh, Unicorn muttered to her partner, “Quick, call Sheng to get over here. I wanna see his eyes bug out, hee hee.”
Ignoring that remark, Megan had unclipped her Link from her belt and was studying its screen. The device hummed and clicked twice before she put it away. “Your liver is not damaged,” she told the blonde. “There is some scarring on one kidney, though, and you are dehydrated. Your blood ethanol concentration is point zero eighty-nine so you will probably vomit soon. Your blood pressure is elevated at one hundred and forty over ninety-one. I would recommend sipping water and resting until your body recovers.”
The girl they called Scamp leaned forward and peered through bleary greenish eyes at her visitor. “What the….? Hey. What else can you tell?”
“You are not sixteen as your publicity material states,” said the Trom Girl evenly. “You are twenty-two. You broke your left wrist in childhood and one of the bones healed crookedly, giving you only eighty per cent use of that hand. Within the past ten days, you underwent a minor surgical procedure…” Megan broke off and glanced over uncertainly at Unicorn. “I believe specifying the exact surgery might reveal some personal details this woman would prefer to keep secret?”
“Damn right it should be secret!” yelled Scamp. “Are you whores from ROLLING STONE? GUITAR LIFE? I want some answers…” Her outburst was cut off as she got her own feet tangled together and fell flat on her face.
“Lucky you had that nice thick carpet for your landing,” Ashley observed.
III.
Fifteen minutes later, room service had brought up a cart bearing an urn of steaming hot black coffee and tray of Danishes. One by one, the band members had been showering and returning freshly scrubbed in hotel robes and slippers. With their hair wrapped up in towel-turbans and without carefully applied professional make-up, the girls looked less enticing than when on stage but also more like real people.
“I need a blood transfusion,” whined Little Angel as she dragged a chair over facing the couch and lowered herself gingerly onto it. She was the drummer, a slightly stocky young woman with feathered black hair framing a round face. “Were we going through the alphabet of booze last night?”
Sitting on the couch with Scamp cuddled up next to her for support was the unofficial leader of the band. Princess was a talented guitarist with a distinctive twangy sound and she also wrote nearly all of the songs. Working with the clear soaring voice of Scamp, it was the guitar of Princess that created the sound of Here Comes Trouble.
Princess’s real name was Jeanne Winstead. The total black of her thick shaggy hair was natural, as was the deep green of her sullen eyes. She sat with one protective arm around Scamp and regarded the intruders with open suspicion. A cigarette smoldered in the fingers of one hand but she had only taken one long drag on it so far.
Marching in from the hall, the bodyguard came over and reported to Princess. “I made twenty phone calls, these two aren’t reporters and they aren’t from the FBI or the police. They’re paranormal investigators. Sheesh.”
Princess thanked him with a grunt and sat up, dislodging Scamp slightly. She glanced over and saw the remaining member of the band, the rhythm guitarist Kitten. The lanky brunette had pulled up a chair to sit next to Unicorn and the two of them were chatting away as if they had know each other for years.
“See, that was my one criticism of Scarab,” Ashley was saying. “Jorge had so many great ideas for songs but Sol and Jan were fighting for leadership so much that they only let him have one crummy song on each album. When Jorge finally got to do a solo album, it was disappointing….”
“Yeah, yeah, it was so weak, I could never sit through the whole thing,” Kitten said. “If you ask me, our band could stand a little variety too. I get one drum solo each concert and only one of my songs was on TROUBLE ON EIGHT LEGS.”
“Hey! Kitten!” yelled Princess from the couch. “Band business is for the band. Your new best friend forever doesn’t need to know it, okay?”
Ashley had unbuckled the strap across her chest and was holding the white leather sheath in both hands with its flat end resting on the beige carpet. The band members stared curiously at the three foot long object with its pointed end but seemed baffled as to what it could be. The Unicorn grinned cheerfully at their puzzled faces.
Remaining on her feet, Megan Salenger stood with folded arms in the center of the room and inspected Here Comes Trouble as if impatient for them to get ready. 'My partner and I are not here because any of you women are suspected of crime,” she began. “That is not the KDF’s agenda in any case. We are concerned with protecting people from inexplicable and little understood threats.”
“I think I’m still high,” whined the drummer Little Angel. “‘Fling’ is a hellava drug. Are you telling us that you've ghost busters?!”
“That is accurate enough. I understood that your manager travels with you? Where is he?”
“Carl? He was supposed to be meeting with some big shots from Sony today.” Princess was staring at the visitors more intently than before. “Are you two wasting our time? I don’t believe in haunted houses or fairies in the garden. We didn’t ask for any psychic investigators!”
“Where is the voice coach? Kovacevic?” the Trom Girl demanded in a suddenly sterner tone.
At this point, Scamp seemed to have an entire apple turnover in her mouth. The blonde singer said, “Mmmmph Mmmm?"
“Perhaps someone else can answer?” Megan persisted. “Where is this man Kovacevic?”
“Right behind you...” came a deep, heavily-accented voice.
IV.
The atmosphere in that suite shifted to tension and uneasiness. Both Tel Shai knights spun to face the newcomer. Andreas Kovacevic had been remarkably tall in his prime but age had bent him so he stared at them from almost the same face level. The long straight hair, slicked back with some pomade, was streaked heavily with dirty grey strands and the pointed goatee had gone thin. Kovacevic was well-dressed in a tailored black suit with a starched white shirt and floppy loosely-tied ascot. But the clothing hung loosely off him as if off a scarecrow.
The reputed mastermind came into the suite, leaning on a thin walking stick with a grip carved into the likeness of an eagle's head, and sank heavily into an empty chair. Hopping up and rushing over to the kitchenette, the drummer Little Angel handed him a tumbler of ice water.
“Did you get some sleep, Maestro?” she asked.
“As well as can be expected, my dear,” he said. “Thank you.” He gulped down the ice water and sighed, then turned his attention to Megan and Ashley. “I seem to smell the sharp mint of...Tagra! Can it be? Are we honored with the presence of knights of Tel Shai?”
Unicorn scoffed. “That’s a neat trick. So, Mr Kovacevic, what’s your exact relationship with these underage girls?”
“Better you ask them yourself,” he said as he placed the empty tumbler on an end table extended to him. “My darlings, would you care to explain?”
“He’s my voice coach!” shouted the blonde called Scamp. “He has done AMAZING work. I never thought I could sing good enough for a neighborhood birthday party but Maestro has believed in me. He taught me everything.”
“Our Maestro has worked with all of us,” added Princess sharp!y. “We all are better singers because of his patience. And he knows music theory, he understands pacing and hooks and most important, what to leave out. I don’t appreciate the way you talked to him, girlie. Keep your insinuations to yourself.”
Kovacevic had deep furrows in his brow, and the dark sunken eyes were sad. “You are not the first to intrude here, feeling concern over the band. Believe me, there is no cause for worry. These young ladies have been treated well and given a rare opportunity. Girls, are you here freely of your own choice?”
“Hell yeah,” said Princess. She got to her feet, retying the sash of the bathrobe around a narrow waist. “I have always wanted to make music. When I was six, I tried making my own guitars outta stuff around the house. Now I stand on stage and see fifty thousand people who paid good money to hear me play. It’s a rush. I’m never giving it up.”
From her chair by Unicorn, the drummer Little Angel spoke up. “I never had no money. My mom worked two jobs and couldn't try any harder than she did. I always looked forward to Monday morning because school meant a hot lunch. Now I’ve got money in the bank and I can send some cash home to help out.”
Holding up his hands, palms raised beseechingly, the mysterious voice coach asked, “Do you see any reason to think these young ladies are being misused? The fact I have taken rooms on another floor of this hotel gives them privacy. As zealous as Tel Shai knights have been known to be, I think even you must admit there is no cause for worry about their treatment.”
At the point, Princess disentangled herself from Scamp and stood up to face Megan Salenger at arm’s length. “You know, we didn’t ask you two to come here. You’re not the police. Has any of our families hired you to babysit us? I didn’t think so.”
The Trom Girl exchanged a quick glance with Unicorn, then softened her voice. “It is still my duty to inform you that your trainer here has a shady past with criminal connections…” She broke off and seemed to lose her concentration. For a long second, she stood there uncertainly.
Ashley Whitaker jumped up off her chair, clutching the sheathed horn in one hand as she took her teammate by the arm with the other. Her demeanor had shifted dramatically from the breezy girl who had been chatting with Little Angel about rock music. Now there was a sudden edge to her voice. “Time to go, Megs.” She led the oddly docile Trom Girl toward the door of the suite.
Pausing in the doorway, the little blonde gave Here Comes Trouble a piercing glare. “Don’t think this is over by a long shot,” she warned everyone. Just before she dragged Megan out into the corridor, she saw the insufferably smug leer on Scamp's face.
V.
Out in the hall, Ashley led her dazed teammate around a corner and found an ornate mahogany bench with a cushioned surface. Checking to see they had not been followed, she pressed Megan to have a seat. The Trom Girl shook her head, took a few deep breaths and came back to normal.
"That was unexpected," she said to Ashley. "My thinking processes lost their focus. I was not drugged, since I did not eat or drink anything and any toxin in the air would have affected you as well. Perhaps I need a medical exam?" A hint of alarm crept into her voice. "Perhaps there is something wrong with me."
Unicorn had shrugged out of the strap holding the sheath across her back. She took one of Megan's hands and held it to the white leather. "Whaddaya think?"
"It is warmer than air temperature," Megan responded promptly. "Even taking into account that it has been in contact with your body, this material is fourteen degrees above what it should be. I don't understand."
"It means your brain is okay. Listen. My Unicorn horn is ensorcelled. It reacts to harmful gralic energy by getting warmer and that's what protects me. It's absorbing the magick that would be affecting me otherwise. I felt it heat up the same time you got all dopey in there."
The Trom Girl straightened up. "I was being attacked with gralic force! Obviously, it was Kovacevic. He has some hypnotic power."
"Dead on target, Science Nerd," said Ashley as she carefully leaned the sheathed horn up against the bench. "And I have a surprise for you." She reached inside her jacket and pulled out two bright yellow plastic tags on coiled lanyards. Each had a large red number on its surface.
"These seem to be passes of some sort," Megan observed uncertainly. "Yes. They say, 'Full Access' with the name of the band and have a security code on the bottom."
"I guarantee those girls will never notice these are missing. That room had so much clutter and garbage it would take archaeologists to find anything." She handed one of the passes to her teammate. "Seems like we'll be listening to tonight's concert from backstage, buddy."
The Trom Girl examined the pass and stowed it in a pocket. "I am not eager to experience their music at full volume. Nor do I look forward to mingling with their fans. Still, these are a great advantage in our investigation. Thank you, Ashley."
The little blonde cocked her head and grinned. "Wait, wait, I know that expression. You're up to something. Am I right, tell me I'm right, of course I'm right."
Megan unclipped her Link from the side of her belt and made an adjustment. She allowed herself the faintest of smiles. "Set yours to 'input' at channel 6," she said.
"Sure." Unicorn got her own Link, tapped two buttons and held it up to her ear, flipping the white-blonde hair back out of the way. After a second, she chortled and reached over to punch Megan lightly on the upper arm. "Why, you...! This is great."
"I placed a transmitter button on the underside of a chair when everyone watched Scamp fall on her face," Megan said. "The transmitters have an adhesive backing."
"Sounds like they're arguing about which song to close the show with. Princess wants a rocking fast version of 'I Don't Miss My Self-Respect.' And Scamp is insisting on a slow sad version of 'Not Another Morning After.'" She continued to listen, obviously as interested in the musical details as in hoping to hear something incriminating. "Hmm, I think Scamp has a point, it'd leave the audience all mushy as they straggle out to the parking lot.."
With her own Link pressed to an ear, the Trom Girl seemed just as deep in thought but more critical. After five minutes of listening to Here Comes Trouble fighting among themselves, Megan announced, "I do not hear Kovacevic joining the discussion. He coughed once."
The two KDF members continued to sit on that bench, taking in the debates from that suite just down the hall. After fifteen minutes, Unicorn lowered the device and rubbed her ear gingerly. "Not as fascinating as I would have thought. They're still going on about revising lyrics and adding a jam toward the end. I thought there would be, you know, something juicy. A love affair between two band members or paying too much for heroin, you know? These girls are a little serious about their music."
Seeing Megan motion her to keep listening, Ashley quickly put the Link up to her other ear.
"...three hours before showtime, Maestro," came Scamp's voice. "Time for my voice lesson. I can't hit those notes without your spell."
"I tell you, I cannot do this anymore," said the accented tones of Kovacevic. "The infusion of energy is killing me. Everyday my hair is greyer, my face more lined... I refuse, I tell you!"
Scamp cackled gleefully. "That's what YOU think. Bet I can change your mind."
"Come on, ladies," called a third voice, possibly the lead guitarist Princess. "Let's go down to the lobby and sign a few autographs for the hotel staff. We don't need to watch this again."
Other voices grumbled, there was rustling of cloth and one complaint of 'What happened to my shoes with the glitter?' before the KDF members heard a door close a bit too emphatically than was necessarey.. Both Megan and Ashley glanced up, but they were safely around a corner and out of the line of sight. A minute later, elevator doors hissed open and shut.
Over the Links, they heard Kovacevic plead, "No, no, let me leave. This is draining me."
"Hee hee, I'll drain you all right," Scamp laughed. The KDF members heard wet slurping sounds and Kovacevic moaning.
Megan Salenger hastily lowered the Link and switched it off. Her cheeks had turned bright red as if she had a fever.
"Aw, you're so cute!" Unicorn teased, shaking her teammate by the shoulders. "My God, those Trom who raised you left you a wee bit sheltered, didn't they?"
Getting hold of her reactions, Megan had to clear her throat before she could speak. "I think... I think we know now that Kovacevic is not necessarily the insidious mastermind manipulating these young women."
"No fooling." Ashley was still glued to her Link. "Sounds to me like Scamp is convincing him to do whatever she wants. Okay, they're done. You can listen again without getting flustered."
"..after the show, Princess will take care of you," came Scamp's voice, "She'll ride you like a cowgirl at a rodeo. Look, you know you can't do better than us. We're primo. Time for my voice lesson."
"Very well," said Koveceic wearily. "I must concentrate. When I tell you, begin vocalizing the scales."
"This red glow used ta scare me," Scamp laughed. "Now I like it. I sting all over in a good way."
Megan lowered her Link and thumbed a few buttons. "I'm setting this to record everything for the rest of the day," she said. "We will never use it in court, of course, but I believe Sable will want to evaluate the situation."
Turning off her own device and clipping it to the small of her back, Ashley pouted slightly. "Damn it. I just realized this means Scamp is not really that good a singer. I loved her voice on the first album, too."
"Kovacevic is enhancing her abilities with gralic force." Megan Salenger slowly got to her feet and tugged her jacket down. "He is not entirely to blame here. Obviously, the members of the band are... enticing him to use his gralic arts for their benefit."
"Are we gonna get going now?" Unicorn asked. "The band is playing at the Fulton Center tonight. In just a few hours actually."
The Trom Girl was frowning and did not answer immediately. "Ashley, I am at a loss. I do not know if there is wrongdoing here that justifies our intervention. The young women in the band are evidently not being victimized. A case could be made though that Kovacevic is being misused but I think he would not want us to step in and end this arrangement."
"Hah! I bet he wouldn't. Those are some sexy girls in Here Comes Trouble. You know how many millions of guys daydream about Scamp or Princess? At his age, I'm sure Kovacevic thinks he's getting a great deal."
"Let's report to Sable," Megan said uncertainly. "Something unresolved is bothering me about this situation."
She started walking toward the elevator and Ashley followed with the sheathed Unicorn horn in hand. As the elevator doors slid open with a ding, Ashley muttered, "Scamp can't really sing. Me golden idol is tarnished, Megs."
VI.
At nine-thirty that night, Megan and Ashley walked up Clancy Street in lower Manhattan. They had changed appearance dramatically. The Unicorn was wearing a tight short white skirt and black long-sleeved pullover, striding on high heels with dark stockings showing off her toned legs. She still carried the actual Unicorn horn in its sheath across her back, but in this outfit the diagonal strap accentuated her breasts. Ashley was never self-conscious but the same could not be said of her teammate.
Next to her, almost cringing, Megan Salenger was wearing a crimson sleeveless dress that Ashley had picked for her that day. Her short black hair had been teased and fluffed out, she wore shoes with a moderate arch and all her usual gear had been crammed into a single black leather shoulder bag hanging from a fine-linked gold chain.
As they passed the show window of a furniture store, the Trom Girl stopped short and took in a sharp breath. "Ashley! Look at me! I'm painted like a circus clown."
Standing beside her friend, the Unicorn laughed. "What? You look great. All I put on you was some blush, a little mascara and lip gloss. You're gorgeous, Megs. To be honest, I should worry you'll take attention away from me."
"Are you sure? Maybe I am over-reacting." She studied her reflection dubiously, turning her head from side to side.
Ashley linked one arm with Megan conspiratorily. "You know what I think? The Trom Council raised you so you could win the Nobel Prize in physics or chemistry or biology or a hunnerd other sciences. But they should have had an older woman come in once a week to teach you some basic cosmetology. You never had nail polish on before, did you?"
"No." Megan suddenly smiled and her face lit up. "I see women made up in public and everyone seems to admire them. I should trust you, Ashley."
"Truer words were never spoken." Unicorn dug in Megan's handbag and pulled out the Full Access passes. "Here, hang this arouund your swanlike neck."
"My what?"
"Never mind. Come on. The concert should be in its second half by now."
They went past a private parking lot with a roped off area that had a gleaming stretch limo with a driver seated patiently behind the wheel. Next to the lot was the back door of the Fulton Arena, with its two lights in glass bowls and various warning signs. Flanking that door were two burly hulks in dark suits and mirrored sunglasses even at this hour. One was a black man with a shaved head and a permanent scowl. The other was a grizzled white man with long hair and a drooping mustache. Being intimidating was a job requirement for them.
Yet Ashley breezed past them with a dazzling smile, holding up her pass as she opened the door and ushered Megan inside first. The little blonde's unshakeable confidence had gotten her into many places where she had no business being. As she closed the door behind them, she heard one of the security men chuckle, "Those two should be in the band as well." Ashley smirked and gave Megan an immensely satisfied smirk.
Inside, the booming thump of the concert overhead could be felt in the air. Moving briskly down a long corridor with doors marked MAINTENANCE and STAGE SUPPLIES, the two KDF members stopped at a final door by a heavyset man in a dark blue uniform with a white shield emblem on the left shoulder. He was sitting in a folding metal chair and he was not impressed with either the way they looked or their self-assurance. Holding out a hand without rising, the guard took a suspicious look at their passes.
"Say, these are from last night's show," he growled as he looked up at the two young women. "You can't pull this stuff on me."
Megan Salenger had reached into her handbag and removed a small flat electronic device with a bulb on one end. As the guard started to rise, she thumbed the contact patch. The neural shock beam played over the man and he sagged back down into the chair with his head dropping over to one side.
"Man, I coulda used that gizmo on our housekeeper when I was trying to sneak out as a kid," Ashley said with a grin. "Is he all right?"
The Trom Girl had set the man's head up resting forward, then folded his arms across his ample stomach as if he had fallen asleep. "I used a low-intensity burst," she said. "I estimate he will wake up within thirty minutes but be groggy for a short period after that." She replaced the beam projector into her handbag and turned toward her teammate.
"Time to rock and roll, so to speak," Unicorn said. She tried the dressing room door and found it was unlocked. As if she had been invited, Unicorn boldly marched in and saw Kovacevic in his trance.
VII.
The dressing room was large but seemed small because it was jammed so full of an amazing variety of items. A long table against one wall held two loaves of sliced sourdough rye bread and a tray of raisin bagels, with jars of honey and jam and chunky peanut butter, folded rows of sliced ham, roast beef and various cheeses. A cooler on the floor held dozens of bottles of Fiji Water, Red Bull Green, and Welch's grape juice in a bed of crushed ice There were three clear bowls of peanut M&Ms mixed with Reese's Pieces, a dish of grapes and figs, open bags of pretzels and potato chips, a bubbling coffee pot and all the associated tumblers, mugs, silverware, napkins and saucers. Bottles of Absolut Vodka and Patron Silver Tequila were scattered everywhere, most of them already empty.
Mostly, there were clothes in piles and stacks and stray garments on nearly every available surface. It looked exactly as if the four members of Here Comes Trouble had gathered up the vast jumble of loose clothes from their suite at the Weishaupt and transplanted them here.
None of this made more than a passing impression on either Megan or Ashley. Their attention was focused on the sole occupant of the room. Leaning back in an overstuffed easy chair, arms dangling over its side, Kovacevic was not aware of their entrance. His mouth hung open and his eyes were rolled up in his head until only the whites showed.
"Sheesh. Is he alive?" whispered Ashley, stepping over a tangle of bras and ankle socks.
"I can see his breathing is steady and unobstructed. Let me check his pulse. It's a little weak but only.. fifty-five beats a minute." The Trom Girl lowered the man's wrist. "He is in a trance, I do not think our presence is even registering with him."
Ten feet from where Kovacevic sat was a huge video monitor showing the concert upstairs. Ashley bent over to get a closer look. "Huh. Scamp is down to her undies, Princess only has a long T-Shirt. OBVIOUSLY nothing under it. I know that's their gimmick but honestly..."
"Ashley," Megan interrupted. "Does this man seem more haggard than he did a few hours ago?"
Unicorn came over and regarded the mystic critically. "Hmm. Absolutely. You know, I see his beard has a lot more white in it than it did this afternoon. His skin looks really dry. Is he dehydratred?"
"Yes," she said. "I read his KDF file on my Link just before we arrived. According to his passport and police records, this man is thirty-nine years old, Ashley."
Unicorn scoffed. "No. Way. He looks to me like he's in his late sixties after a lifetime of debauchery." She straightened up and stepped back a few paces. "Do you think all the shenanigans with those girls did this to him? Hah."
"Seriously, no. Of course not. Is the one called Scamp singing?"
Unicorn glanced over at the monitor. 'Yeah. She's doing a ballad, 'Picking Which Boyfriend.' Sounds pretty good."
"This man is projecting gralic force to enhance her voice. This is not my area of expertise, but I think the process is stressful enough that it is aging him prematurely."
"Well, it's his choice," Ashley said but she sounded uncertain. "What do you think?"
"I estimate he cannot survive like this more than another month, maybe two. It would be fair to say he is killing himself for sex. My opinion is we should intervene. He may well recover without the draining of his lifeforce and even regain normal vitality.'
Slowly, reluctantly, Ashley Whitaker unslung the white leather sheath from her back and unsnapped its catch. She drew out a lovely spiral of ivory, three feet long, tapering to a dangerous point. The flat end was capped with ornate silver. "I guess you're right. It's the end of Here Comes Trouble but I figure they're kind of a fraud band anyway. Their music depends on literally sucking the life out of someone."
The Trom Girl nodded in agreement. Unicorn sighed, raised the ancient talisman over her head and called out, "With this horn I remove thy power!"
An oppressive weight in the air abruptly lifted. Kovacevic suffered a coughing jag, convulsed and then was still again. He began to snore. Together, Ashley and Megan turned to watch the chaos on the monitor. Scamp's voice had grown flat and weak, and it trailed off as she became aware. The girl dropped her microphone in her confusion, tried to say something but finally spun on one bare heel and sprinted off the stage.
The audience was howling in outrage and anger. Thinking quickly, Princess stepped to center stage and launched into a fast guitar solo that was her trademark number. The crowd settled down slightly but many kept yelling and demanding to know what had happened.
Megan was examining Kovacevic. "His pulse is strong at seventy beats per minute. The tension in his neck and shoulders has eased. I do not think he will require medical attention."
Resheathing her horn, Unicorn tugged on her partner's arm. "Ummm. Megan? We should scram before Scamp runs down here to see what's wrong with her mentor!"
The Trom Girl was surprised at the thought but immediately agreed. "Yes. I hadn't considered that. She may be angry with us."
"Ya think?!" Ashley yanked the Trom Girl through the dressing room door and around a bend in the corridor outside just as they heard the slapping of bare feet drawing closer.
"Maestro? Maestro! What the hell is wrong with you?" screamed Scamp's voice.
Ashley led Megan down a side hallway away from the scene and found an exit door. Nowhere did it say that alarms would sound, so she took a chance and pressed the horizontal bar. They stepped out into an alley that held a green metal dumpster and some broken chairs. Clancy Street could be seen from where they stood.
"It occurs to me that we could have been charged with trespassing," Megan said. "We did enter the building under false pretenses."
Ashley started heading up the block toward where they had left their car. "Aw, we Tel Shai knights serve justice, not the law," she said and held up a handful of peanut M&Ms. "Here, I liberated these from the dressing room. Take a few."
8/26/2017
