Obscure, p.1
Obscure, page 1
Contents
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Author's Note
Thanks for Reading
Acknowledgements
Other Works by Krista Walsh
About the Author
OBSCURE
Ghostmaker Book 1
By
Krista Walsh
All Rights Reserved
This edition published in 2022 by Raven’s Quill Press
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this work are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity is purely coincidental.
Cover: John Wenzel/Chris Reddie
Model: Melysa Parent
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication maybe reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the publisher. The rights of the authors of this work has been asserted by him/ her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
To my friends in the Canadian public service.
Thank you for inspiring me and providing me the tools to write my very own memo.
TOP SECRET
To be included in and updated for the transitional departmental material for all newly elected Prime Ministers of Canada
To: The Prime Minister of Canada
From: The Minister of Supernatural, Magical and Occult Affairs
Subject: Transitional material for all branches within Supernatural, Magical and Occult Affairs Canada
Established in 1867, Supernatural, Magical and Occult Affairs Canada (SMOAC) is a self-governing federal department that oversees eight supernatural branches running parallel to departments and central agencies within the mundane (non-supernatural) government structure (complete list included below).
The Minister of Supernatural, Magical and Occult Affairs serves as the head and ultimate authority of the department, second only to the Prime Minister, with signing authority on all projects and programs under [agreed-upon financial limit]. The Minister also serves as liaison to the Prime Minister’s Office (PMO) and coordinates communication across all branches within the department and with Meril, queen beyond the unseen wall (information on Meril, the unseen wall, supernatural beings and abilities, the perception filter and the realm attached as Appendix A through E).
Per the Supernatural and Mundane Leaders Accord (1867) (Appendix F), the following departmental parameters are perpetual and non-negotiable:
A budget, to be adjusted annually based on inflation and departmental necessity, for the maintenance, running and creation of supernatural programs and projects;
Requirement of approval from the Minister of Supernatural, Magical and Occult Affairs for all mundane social programs and projects to ensure the preservation of secrecy and security of the Canadian supernatural population;
Guaranteed and sufficient space for secret and secure supernatural resources, including hospitals, housing, government and military training;
Cover to be provided under the mainstream department title of Domestic Affairs and Trade Canada; and,
Limited communication between officers of SMOAC and PMO. Knowledge of SMOAC and the existence of supernatural beings to be classified as Top Secret on a need-to-know basis in order to ensure the safety of a vulnerable population.
Please be advised that all employees of SMOAC, and all those aware of the existence of SMOAC, are considered to be permanently bound to secrecy and will be in contravention of the Security of Information Act if they communicate any information about the supernatural realm to mundane society.
ENCL (Appendix G through N): Transitional material on active branch files involving:
Domestic & International Trade
Finance
Policy
Health
Supernatural Special Forces & Security
Research & Development
Infrastructure
Communications
Chapter 1
Jet
Anticipation buzzed through my blood like a hit of cocaine.
I couldn’t sit still. Years of work were about to come to a head as my team of task force soldiers took on the Death’s Head Syndicate, Canada’s biggest supernatural crime organization. The feds versus the mob. Billions of dollars in drugs, smuggling, theft, who knew what other pies they had their fingers in, and we were about to take them down.
Soon. Another few minutes and it would be time to march, and I’d have to hold myself back from running in, abilities blazing, to put an end to every single one of the sons of bitches who had lurked so long in the shadows, rotting my city at its core.
Focus and strategy were what we needed today. I had to keep a level head. Lead my team. After, once we kicked their asses, we could let loose.
A hand rested on my shoulder, and I jumped, too absorbed in my thoughts to notice anyone entering the tactical van behind me. When I looked up, I found my lieutenant, Eric Sampson, standing beside me, his head and shoulders stooped against the low ceiling.
“Breathe, Cap. We’ve got this. No need to waste a good cup of coffee.”
I scowled. “What are you talking about? I’m fine.”
His gaze flicked to the space beside my head, and I turned to find three takeout coffee cups hovering over the table, the air molecules around them dense and vibrating. I gave myself a shake, and the cups settled without a drop spilled.
“All right,” I said, spinning my chair around to face him, “maybe I’m a little wired.”
“This is the day we’ve been planning for, Jet. I’d be worried if you weren’t. I’m ready to run in there myself if we don’t get started.” He pressed his palms against the roof of the van, his blue eyes burning with eagerness. “First round’s on you tonight, right?”
I laughed. “You guys better wow me if I’m racking up that much of a tab.”
After all our years of working together, training together, climbing the ranks together, most of our thoughts could go unsaid. Like my absolute faith in the team we had handpicked and trained from recruitment.
“So what do you say?” Eric asked. “Are we ready to do this?”
I turned back to the pair of monitors on the table, one showing a collection of security feeds, the other set up to view body cam footage once the camera was switched on. “Have we seen them go in?”
“Jason spotted them about three minutes ago. A dozen heavy hitters. Some of O’Malley’s toughs to protect the goods, probably. He didn’t spot O’Malley, but that doesn’t mean he’s not here.”
“We get him or not, it doesn’t matter,” I said, scanning the security footage. “All we need is for one of them to talk. Grab Zeke and Laura, and I’ll meet you outside. Let’s run through this one more time, then go rough up some bad guys.”
Eric closed the door behind him as he left, and I took a moment to breathe in the silence.
This was it. As soon as I stepped outside, the play started and there would be no chance to hit pause.
Ready as I was to move in, I’d learned to appreciate the quiet before the storm, the opportunity to gather my thoughts, run through the plan, and imagine the victory. O’Malley’s people rounded up like cattle with their hands all over the evidence, thrown behind bars with no defence to hide behind. Their one bargaining chip would be to deliver O’Malley to the department on a silver platter.
I smiled and relaxed in my chair. We had this. Now to make it happen.
I rose to my feet in the cramped space of the van and pulled a Kevlar vest over my black T-shirt and fatigues. The narrow patch on the left side of my chest read Dawson, the patch on my back read SMOAC, the letters of both peeling and faded. It was the downside of working for a government department only a small percentage of the population knew about. Sup ernatural, Magical and Occult Affairs Canada was not a subject of discussion across mundane news sources, and the lack of popularity meant a pathetically tiny budget for equipment. Two weeks ago, we’d upgraded the tech in our detainment centre for the first time in a decade, and I appreciated the timing. All the better to show these bastards the full SMOAC hospitality.
On my right shoulder was a custom patch: a wolf wearing a jetpack. Mandy, one of my newer recruits, had designed the logo last year to represent our squad. My wolves—my pack—and today they would make me proud.
Kitted up, I pulled my shoulder-length brown hair into a messy bun, patted the service revolver at one hip and my curved knife at the other, and puffed out one last breath. “All right, Dawson. Go time.”
I stepped outside to find Eric waiting with two of my longest-serving troops. Zeke stood almost six-and-a-half feet tall, thick and square-jawed. A metal baton sat at his hip, and he tapped his fingers against it in a familiar rhythm. Beside him stood Laura, a tiny woman easy to underestimate—an appearance she used to her advantage.
“How are we feeling?” I asked.
Zeke grinned. “In the mood to pound some syndicate scum into the concrete.”
“And haul in enough powder to put the entire ghost industry out of business,” Laura said.
Zeke shrugged. “Yeah, that, too.”
“Both sound like a win to me,” said Eric, and I couldn’t disagree.
Named after its fine white consistency and high mortality rate, ghost was the latest trend in supernaturally touched pharmaceuticals. A pinch was enough to do the trick, a few milligrams the difference between a great trip and a short life. Popular among mundanes who wanted to peer behind the veil and liven up their boring nine-to-five existence and supernaturals who wanted to tap into their full strength, even if only for a few minutes.
And they got it, all right. That flash of life. They learned just how terrifying the world could be right before their lungs shut down and they choked to death on nothing but air. We’d already had over a thousand ODs this year, and it was only June.
To have the syndicate crushed and the country’s favourite street drug squashed in a single afternoon? It would be the win of the decade—not to mention of my career.
“Okay,” I said, “run me through our morning.”
Zeke pulled his shoulders back, and his smile faded as he slipped into mission mode. “Laura and I lead the squad into the building, me through the garage.”
“Me through the service entrance at the back,” Laura said.
“We have eyes on twelve of O’Malley’s lackeys heading down the stairwell to the subbasement,” Eric interjected, “so we know they’re right where we want them.”
Laura nodded and continued, “We head down the stairs at both entrances, penning them in.”
“You and I bring up the rear,” Eric said, “wrangling the troops and redirecting any muns who try to pass through the lobby.”
I knew he was disappointed not to lead the mission. His supernaturally perfect aim had turned him into a cowboy over the years, and he loved nothing more than playing hero, but today I wanted him at my side. For one thing, I suspected the greater threat would come from the rats who tried to scatter out of the meeting when my guys busted in. For another, the last thing we needed was a bunch of mundanes poking their noses into our business. I needed someone with me who wouldn’t cower if Mrs. Hoity-Toity from the penthouse got in their face.
“Once you give the signal,” Zeke went on, “we enter the subbasement. A one-two wave with snake formation, flash-bang to stir them up, fan out around the room, close in.”
“I go in high, McNeil goes in low,” Laura said as she jerked her chin over my shoulder. I turned to find Jared, our water-shifter, doing a few warm-up stretches behind the van, turning his foot into a puddle and solidifying it again.
“While I lead the ground forces to round the bastards up,” Zeke finished.
“As soon as we’ve nailed them to the floor,” said Eric, “we take them out through the service entrance at the back and load them into the paddy wagon to take them for processing.”
I nodded as he wrapped up the steps we’d spent months putting together. It sounded so simple. So straightforward. Just the way I liked it. “Let’s get moving and make it happen.”
We broke up, and Zeke whistled between his teeth, summoning the rest of our twenty-soldier unit. With barely a word, they broke into their assigned teams, Zeke leading one set of six, Laura the other.
Left with me were my remaining five troops. Eric, Sara, and Xander would stick with me to monitor the lobby, Katie and Adam would remain in the van to watch the security cameras and reroute the footage to our private SMOAC servers, ensuring no evidence of our mission fell into the wrong hands. Jason was already stationed on a nearby rooftop, sniper rifle in hand, ready to stop anyone who made it past our defences.
Every base covered.
“All right, Katie, Adam, show me what we’re dealing with.”
I followed them back into the van, and Katie took over the console, bringing up the six security cameras across a single screen. I crouched over Katie’s shoulder to better see the tiny images.
“This footage is from twenty minutes ago,” she said as she scrolled through the feed. “You can see O’Malley’s men coming in through the back door here.” She pointed at the screen. They came in by twos and threes, with the occasional solo guy dragging his feet. As though they were independently visiting residents in the building. Each batch paused at the intercom, waited to be buzzed in, then passed through to the lobby, but instead of heading left to the elevators, they continued straight across and entered the stairwell.
“The stairwell feed is over here,” Adam said, and pointed to the square in the top right corner of the screen. “You can watch them go down… down… down… and disappear. Based on our earlier check, the security cameras stop at the parking lot. The subbasement is a blackout zone.”
“Of course it is,” I said. I suspected the owners of the building didn’t realize the space existed—it was standard practice for supernatural architects to add an addition to a completed design as a safeguard. The city was riddled with underground storerooms and passages like this one. Anything to give supernaturals a place to hide if the world shifted and the mundanes came after us.
With Zeke’s report confirmed—not that I didn’t trust him, but I always preferred to see things for myself—my last pieces fell into place.
“You guys keep your eyes on those screens,” I said. “Anyone else shows up, or you notice anything wonky with the connection, you let me know. I don’t trust O’Malley not to play some last-minute trick, redirect the feed himself to keep his people from being found out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Adam said, and scooched around me to pull out the second chair in front of the monitors. “Anyone moves a foot towards those doors, we’ll let you know.”
“We’ll keep eyes on the lobby, too,” Katie said. “No one will come close without you getting a heads-up.”
I patted them both on the shoulder and left them to it.
“Hughes,” I spoke into the comms system, “you in place?”
“Getting bored up here, PL,” Jason said into my ear. PL. Packleader. Their nickname for me when they felt like being nice. “We ready to get this show on the road?”
“All goes well, you’re going to stay bored until we’re clear.”
“Long as we bring these assholes down, I’ll grin and bear it.”
I smiled and tilted my head back to suck in the cool morning air. My lungs full, my heart racing, I walked towards the condo building. Eric fell into step behind me with Sara and Xander, and together we entered the foyer. I rested my hand on the door handle and pulled, but the door stayed put.
“Give me a moment,” Katie said in my ear. “And… there.”
The lock buzzed, and a moment later we were in the polished main lobby. My boots squeaked against the marble, and my face reflected in every surface of the high-polished room. It felt more like a museum than a residence. I half-expected to see Do not touch signs on everything within reach.
“Status?” I asked.
“In position,” Zeke said.
