The streets they traveled down seemed eerily normal. People walked along the sidewalks and drove normally down the street until they spotted the group traveling as quickly as they dared. Then they turned off quickly or hurried into stores or down alleys, sensing trouble.
Taryn was especially on edge, since her mother had refused to ride in the car with the others and had hopped on her back, refusing to move off. The most she’d consented to do was carry a 1911 from Anne.
Everyone kept their senses on alert, but didn’t see anything at all. In the distance they could hear more and more sirens, staying far away. Taryn hoped that they weren’t too late and were searching for a missing person.
They made it to the police station without incidence and poured inside.
A handful of police officers were there, looking grim and determined; the front desk had three of them, looking casual and unconcerned, but Taryn noticed how each of them kept staring outside and jumping at the sound of vehicles passing.
“Sara, can you tell me anything else, anything about this Jacob man?” she asked urgently.
The former swim team member and high school heartthrob shook her head.

“Sorry.” She said quietly. “I’ve told you all I know.”
They passed out of conversation and they stewed nervously in the waiting room,
Taryn kept pacing, feeling that she was missing something here. Something she desperately needed to figure out. But how? Who could she talk too? No one else would have the information…except…
She tried to turn against the idea as soon as it surfaced, but it remained in her subconscious, nagging her as the minutes crawled into hours. Finally she sighed.
“Give me your phone, Josh.”
“Uh, sure.” He said, frowning as he passed it over.
“Thanks. Yours is more powerful than mine.” She said as she activated the search engine function. Typing in an address, she waited a moment for the screen to load. At last she had a number.
Writing it down on a piece of paper, she blanked the data and passed the phone back to Josh, who looked at it curiously when he didn’t see what she’d been looking for.
“Tar, what are you doing?” he asked.
“Talking to someone.” She said as she dialed the number. Besides them no one else seemed to notice the exchange. Sylvie stood near the entry way, holding her rifle calmly as she surveyed the outside. Nearby her parents were in deep conversation with the police, trying to help them operate the combat command center and using his mayoral status to get outside help. Her mother sat in the chair next to Sara, nodding off as boredom claimed supremacy over fear.
“Yeah, who?” he asked.
Taryn didn’t answer, she was focusing her attention on following the steps the operator had given her.
Slowly, painstakingly, she passed through several dozen hoops until at last she heard the sound of the phone ringing.
“Ola,” the voice on the other end of the line said, speaking for several minutes.
“Olá, gostaria de falar com o prisioneiro Nightshade” Taryn said firmly.
“Por favor, indique seu nome” the man said.
“Meu nome é Taryn Grogan” Taryn said. “E é urgente que eu fale com ele agora”
“Sim, vou ligar você. Por favor, espere que o prisioneiro chegue ao telefone.” The man said pleasantly.
“What was that?” Josh asked.
“Portuguese” Taryn said shortly.
“Portuguese?” Josh looked surprised.
“It’s what they speak in Rio.” Taryn explained shortly.
“But why?”
“Because I’m talking to…”
“Hello again, Miss Grogan.” A cold, familiar voice sounded through the cell phone. “I must say, I am surprised to hear from you.”
“I’m not surprised.” Taryn could hear the cold, savage sound to her voice; practically a snarl. It cut through the background, silencing all other conversation as everyone turned to see what she was doing. Sylvie looked over at her, a question in her eyes. Seeing Taryn’s stare, she nodded and stepped away from the window to stand next to her. Taryn saw her mother jump to her feet and hurry over, to be restrained only by Sylvie’s hand.
“Wait” she mouthed to her.
“Nightshade, I’m not talking to you for pleasantries.” Taryn ground out amid the gasps of a startled audience. “I need information from you.”
“I see.” Nightshade said urbanely. “Well, as I’m sure you are aware, I am somewhat out of the loop these days. Being in prison makes it somewhat difficult to talk to my sources.”
“You won’t need them.” Taryn said sharply. “I want your memories. Everything you can tell me of Jacob Meyers, the man you sent to kidnap my mother.”
For a long time there was only silence, and Taryn feared that she had somehow lost connection, when Nightshade spoke again.
“Jacob Meyers.” His voice sounded somehow colder, and angrier than Taryn could ever remember it being.
“If you are facing him, my dear, then I suggest you leave town immediately. He is very dangerous.”
“I know he’s dangerous.” Taryn barked. Everyone in the station leaned in closer, as if to unconsciously try to hear what was being said. Taryn switched the phone to speaker.
“But he’s brought in a new gang from outside, calling themselves Tenebrae Cultor, or—“
“Worshipers of Darkness.” Nightshade’s voice sounded thoughtful. “Hmm. Interesting, I hadn’t thought—“ He trailed off, thinking.
“What?” Taryn snapped. “Hadn’t thought what?”
“Ah, ah, manners my dear.” Nightshade came back. “I would have thought you had learned them while in my employ.”
Her mother choked and reached out to snatch the phone but Taryn waved her irritably off. She could handle Nightshade’s veiled insults and attacks.
“Sorry.” She said unapologetically. “I wouldn’t have thought manners very important where you are.”
“Yes, many of my co-inhabitants thought the same.” Nightshade said unconcernedly. “I have since taught them better. But we were discussing Jacob Meyers. I may indeed have information you would find useful, but I would be expecting something in return. A business deal, as it were.”
“You must think I am the president or something.” Taryn said dryly. “I don’t have any pull down there, and you must know that, Mister Nightshade.”
“No, and I would expect a blunt refusal should I have been crass enough to demand my freedom.” Nightshade said calmly. “No, I will want help of a different sort.”
“You still haven’t told me what.” Taryn said coldly.
“It’s quite simple. I will tell you what you want to know about Jacob Meyers, and in return I expect you to do what you should have done to me, Miss Grogan. I expect you to kill him.”

Everyone stared at the phone like it had grown a talking head.
“You want me to kill your associate?” Taryn asked in surprise. At the same time Sylvie asked, “What would possess you to think she could kill a man?”
“Ah, Miss Mathison, a delight to be speaking with you again.” Nightshade said pleasantly. “And the reason should be obvious to all of you by now; Jacob Meyers is cunning, dangerous, and insane. He will not be stopped by anything as inconvenient as prison bars, reason, or begging. He cannot be bought, be bartered with, or accept any outcome but what he himself aims for. A strong-willed individual with no hesitation for killing those in his way.”
“Including you.” Sylvie guessed.
“A fair guess.” Nightshade agreed. “But my death would be incidental for him. A sideshow, as it were; I am not important enough for him to trouble about. No, he wants all of humanity to die, leaving him in sole command of a dead world. Nothing would be more glorious to him.”
“What?!” Sylvie sounded disbelieving. “That’s insane! There wouldn’t be anyone stupid enough to follow a madman like that!”
“I know. I should have done better in selecting the people I had at my disposal up there.” Nightshade admitted. “But much of my networks up there had been dug in deep to avoid being compromised by Chief Gardners’ investigation. I had no choice but to rely on a man I knew to be sadistic and insane to accomplish my end goals.”
“What did you do?” Taryn asked in horror.
“It’s quite simple, I told him to stage a small distraction for the lovely Anne Mathison to get her out of the way so that a special team could go in and invite (he stressed the word) Mary Grogan to come visit her daughter. He did not, and instead engineered the riots, placed in mortal peril the package and put in danger a very young contact of mine, none of which I ordered or wanted.”
“We know.” Sylvie said. “He nearly killed her with his commands.”
“He’s done what?” Nightshade said, his voice turned to ice.
Taryn relayed the story that Sara had given her. “We’ve got her with us now.” She said coldly. “But her parents are in danger. Because of your actions.” She added pointedly.
Nightshade stayed silent longer this time. When he spoke again, sounding as furious as Taryn had ever heard him; she had a strong desire to drop the phone, fearing that it would explode in her hand or freeze into solid carbonite.
“If Miss Kendall is safely in your custody, then you have done her a greater service then you can imagine. He would have made her death long and lingering, abusing her beyond description because it would please him as a side pursuit, a waiting game until he was ready to make his move. I thank you as well. This was never my intention in the slightest, and I miscalculated most gravely when I assigned my prized asset to him. Thank you.”
Everyone stared at the phone in disbelief, never imagining what Nightshade had said.
Taryn asked, “Listen, we need all the information we can on him. I can’t promise I’ll kill him,” she added fiercely. “I’m not a killer like you, but I will stop him. I promise that.”
“That will do.” Nightshade said urbanely. “If my information about him is correct, he will give you no choice; he will kill you, or you will kill him. There will be no middle ground in this contest.”
“How the hell are you getting any information in that rathole?” Josh demanded, ignoring everyone’s sudden glares. “You should be sealed in tight as a bug!”
“Hmm, I don’t recognize the voice…could this be the other centaur, Joshua?” Nightshade asked.
Josh flushed, but spoke bravely. “Yeah, and I’m not afraid of you.”
“Then you are a very foolish boy.” Nightshade’s voice turned serpent-cold. “Miss Mathison and Miss Grogan are well acquainted with my methods. The fact that they still are speaking to me tells me of their desperation, and their courage. How I got my information is beside the point, though I may say that most of it came while I was determining what exactly went wrong with the operation to bring Missus Grogan to see her daughter. I came across…disturbing information that I hadn’t known about.”
“What kind of information?” Taryn asked.
“Well, I shall tell you what I know.Let me begin by how I first met him, nearly eight years ago.

Nightshade grimaced as he strode past another bicycle patrol. Did they honestly think those did any good? Any thief worth his salt would have a quick getaway vehicle stashed nearby, likely a fast motorcycle or modified car, and the truly great thieves wouldn’t have their work detected until much, much later. Still, it would keep tourists happy and content, and more willing to come to his show if they thought they were safe from scum.
Still, they would make his time here at the edge of the park more difficult. His contact might be frightened off, or at the very least have the goods stashed so far out of sight as to make it nearly impossible to easily hide them in a vehicle and take them back to the show.
He might as well call it a day, he thought. It could be just as well, one of the elephants was feeling down and he wanted to get back to check on its care; his people were the best at what they did, but even miracle workers needed help obtaining what they need every now and then.
He started back out of the park, snapping his cell phone shut as if he’d finished speaking to whoever it was on the other end of the line. He pretended to stretch and rub his ears, as if he’d actually take two hours on the phone in some park when he had satellite phones back in his comfortable trailer! The gullibility of people never ceased to amaze him.
He’d gotten partway back when he heard someone talking loudly nearby. He glanced over and saw a man standing on a park bench waving his arms and gesticulating wildly. Nightshade would have continued on, but he caught sight of a peculiar blue and black tattoo on the man’s right arm that caught his attention. The description he’d been given of his contact certainly matched the man; tall, about six-foot-four and lean. Dirty blond hair, sharp brown eyes so bloodshot to be almost red from some accident, and a blue tattoo.
Nightshade found himself growling in exasperation’ the fool was attracting so much attention that there wouldn’t be a chance for them to have a meeting at all!
Yet too his surprise, the man finished his…what, sermon?…and walked right over to him in broad daylight while the rest of the congregation fanned out into the day.
“You must be Nightshade.” The man smiled.
“Yes.” Nightshade said coldly.
“I’m Jason. Jason Born.”
“Unlikely.” Nightshade shook his head. “Unless Hollywood is missing one of its actors. I suspect your name is actually Jacob Meyers, isn’t that right?”
“Well, you do do your homework.” Jacob smiled. “I was just testin’ ya. I guess you really aren’t that easily fooled, eh? Good. Didn’t want this to be too easy. My followers will make sure we aren’t disturbed.”
“Followers?” Nightshade asked, glancing at the group of people that had just walked away. His appreciation of Jacob went up; he had simply thought them average park goers stopping to listen idly to a street preacher. That they had fooled him was a mark for them, and against him he realized with chagrin.
“I am impressed. The street bible-thumping through me off.”
Jacob shrugged. “It throws most people.” He confirmed. “Everyone simply assumes we’re wackos trying to convert them. Makes them easy targets.” He smiled predatorily.
“Now,” he said, “On to business. Fifty kilos for fifty thousand a piece, plus my fee.”
“I thought the buyer would be handling the fee?” Nightshade asked, arching his brow.
“Not hardly.” The man snorted. “To be honest, I’m amazed this group even managed the fifty thousand a piece. They’re not what you call successful businessmen.”
“I see. Well, I shall take the fee on this time.” Nightshade said with a cruel smile. “In exchange for future services rendered.”
Jacobs smile matched his perfectly. “I like the way you operate.” He said. “If you ever wish to become partners again, let me know!
“I will keep that in mind.” Nightshade nodded to him, walking back to his car. He had a show at six and he needed to get ready.

“And that was the first time that I dealt with him.” Nightshade finished. "When I went to pick up the merchandise, he was headquartered in a nearby church that had been defaced so horribly as to be nearly unrecognizable. He welcomed me with a laugh and asked what I thought of his “Satan’s Church”, useful in keeping away locals who were afraid of being sacrificed with the chickens.
I admit, at the time I believed it to be a clever ruse, a way for the man to avoid unwanted attention by being so fearsome in appearance and rumor that no one in their right mind would seek him out.
I complimented him on it, and suggested a couple of improvements for décor; I had spent considerable time in setting up haunted houses every Halloween for my show, and I sometimes went to such lengths to make it the best that I’ve had strong men faint dead away before they made it halfway through. Surprisingly, such reactions are good for business, as many people try to force themselves to go through to prove they aren’t afraid of anything. Few manage such a feat.” He added dryly.
“However, shortly after I dealt with the operator tasked with bringing Missus Grogan to me, I started to do further research. The story the man told and what I could learn from your mother through Miss Halls convinced me that I had erred in judgment. I activated certain sources to obtain further information of Jacob Meyers and his activities prior to and during our association.”
His voice sounded bitter. “When they reported back, I realized I’d been had. Quite a disappointment, I can tell you.”
“Prior to our association, Jacob Meyers had been a mercenary that went to Africa, Bahrain and various hotspots in the world, working top dollar for many terrorist networks and crime lords, pursuing the art of killing and death in all its hideous forms. Many of them quit using his services as he became more and more unstable, and the horrific things he did to his victims became too much for some to bear.”
“Several of his past employers attempted to have him terminated. Obviously, they failed. Each one of them disappeared for some time, only to have their body’s surface in some gutter or alleyway mangled nearly beyond all recognition. That wasn’t sloppiness on his part; he wanted every body identified, so everyone would know what crossing him meant.
When he got to the states, he fell in with a group of devil worshipers and found his calling in their hard-core beliefs and religion. He used his despicable knowledge to grow in favor and power until he ruled an entire chapter of their house, performing rituals on human victims that would make the most hardened horror director blanch.
However, he realized that his chapter was experiencing difficulties in acquiring new members—“
“I wonder why.” Sylvie mumbled.
“Quite.” Nightshade agreed. “But don’t interrupt. As I was saying, he had difficulties in acquiring new members and keeping a certain amount of cash flow coming in to finance his lifestyle and his cult. He buried his past very deeply, he withstood my initial scrutiny and that of dozens of investigations, and switched his operations to dealing in merchandise. The body count all but vanished and to the outside world, Jacob Meyer seemed a harmless lunatic with a penchant for dealing drugs and small-time theft.”
“What changed?” Taryn looked up as Sylvie’s father spoke.
“Ah, mister Mayor; that is a very good question. I can only assume your daughter and Miss Grogan did.”
“What have they to do with anything?” Sylvie’s mother asked, coming closer. “They were a job, one that he was participating in only peripherally.”
“Missus Mathison, you’re quite correct. However, I suspect he was monitoring my circus as I was monitoring you. I would have, in his place. It is standard practice to determine how best to turn the situation to your advantage. The fact that Sylvie and Taryn were real centaurs, something hitherto unknown and therefore different, and the reasons for their change, which I was attempting to learn about and acquire for my show, convinced him that he had a shot, once more, of seeing his dream come true.”
Sylvie shuddered. “But…but surely Roland wouldn’t help a madman like that!” she said.
“Who can say?” Nightshade agreed. “However, let us be very clear; Roland changed you, Taryn, and your friends. He also, at the end of our associations, healed your mother but left her human. If nothing else, he has proven inconsistent with his motives.”
Taryn felt appalled at the thought. “Do, do you think he might be a demon now?” she asked in a choked voice.
“Let us hope not.” Nightshade said. “Or this world will end, and everyone will be under his feet.”

Everyone stared in silence as they digested the horrific ramifications of such a thought. Nightshade continued on though.
“I somewhat doubt that a man of Roland’s mind would simply hand over any sort of power to such an individual; from what you’ve told me, and what I have gleaned from reports, this is a man that likes to trick the unwary, the innocent, and the guileless. He wouldn’t strike someone who intended real harm, I don’t think.”
“No, I suspect simply the revealing of magic was enough. Meyers is now trying to find his own magic, and how he will go about getting it is anyone’s guess.”
“What do you mean?” Sylvie asked.
“Well, I would assume he means to grab it directly from you, miss Mathison. You are very strong-willed and powerful in your abilities granted to you, I would think that he intends to pull the magic from your body the only way he knows how. Piece by piece, most likely while you are still alive.”
“Never!” Cried Sylvie’s parents at once. The police growled in anger as well.
“I’m sure you will do your best to make sure that happens.” Nightshade said smoothly. “However, do not underestimate this foe. He is beyond any of you in terms of cunning, deadliness and willpower. You may have further need of my help.” He said quietly. “You know how to reach me, Miss Grogan. Please, do NOT hesitate to call. We can work out the details of this devil’s bargain later.