It was a long day, and the continuous coating of snow on the roads made the ride harder, but eventually James reached his last delivery — Cadenslocus Tower. It had been snowing intermittently throughout the day, and in his approach, he saw the magnitude and scale of the building in all its glory.

The glass and concrete rose high, the early evening light struggling to reach the building’s exterior through the frosty smog that lined the air. Snow covered much of the perimeter leading up to it, menacingly looming from overhangs and being tracked in all directions by footfall.

James looked up, his stomach lurching at the dizzying heights that the building ascended to, seemingly with no end from this angle. Slowly making his way to the entrance of the high rise, he avoided the fast-paced office workers who rushed in all directions. Coming to a stop at the open glass doors and securing his bike at a nearby stall, he quickly made his way inside. As he entered, he saw the sheer magnitude of the area that constituted the main hall.

Massive stone columns jutted upwards towards a high ceiling that covered several upper walkways suspended above the first floor. The atrium allowed illumination to bounce to all corners of the entrance area, only cut short by a balcony and a rectangular block of elevators stationed near the back, but he knew it was an illusion. The building was far taller than its visible interior, and large fixtures could be seen above working overtime to provide natural light. Small welcome points complete with uncomfortable looking circular swivel chairs and shin high modern tables were scattered on his immediate left, some occupied by grinning, well-dressed individuals. Gentle chatter filled the air from all corners and the sound of footsteps reverberated across the light parquet floors that spanned out from the front door. Combinations of deep grey and dark woods covered the walls, accompanied by open glass offices currently occupied by hundreds of bodies.

It was a marvel of engineering, and it felt as if James was a speck in an open expanse, while the sheer volume of clerical staff and civil servants made him uncomfortable and cramped. It was a strange, conflicting feeling to be wracked with.

As he approached the main desk, he pulled free his inventory list and patted his bag to double check the package was still secure in his possession. The woman that was sitting behind the desk finished her call and flicked her auburn hair to the side as she looked up at James with a smile.

“Yes, sir? How can I help?”

“I have a delivery for a” – he double checked his list – “Mr. Slued?”

“Ah, no problem. See the elevators over there? Take one up to the forty-second level. That’s Mr. Slued’s floor, you’ll find him there.”

“Forty-second? That’s almost all the way to the top.”

“You don’t have a problem with heights, do you?”

“Who me? No, no.” He laughed, finally realising that she had already shifted her attention. “Right, yeah, forty-second floor.”

James made his way to the elevators situated at the back of the main hall. Pressing his finger against the round button, it illuminated, the middle of three elevators on the eastern side opening at once.

As he entered and selected forty-two, one question came to the forefront of his thoughts.

How the hell does this guy have an entire floor? I’ve delivered to some ‘VIP’s’ before, but this was a new one. Maybe it was just her phrasing.

The small numbers above the metal doors slowly rose in sequence, getting closer to their target. As the elevator ascended, James reached into his bag and retrieved the wooden box given to him by Craig earlier that day.

“So, why does someone need to request me by name for you?”

Wrapping his fingers around the carved exterior, he ran the tip of one along the delicate carvings across its side. He felt a strange pulsing vibrate the exterior, rhythmic and steady. It was emanating from the inside of the box and curiosity was rapidly getting the better of him.

He knew he should not open it. He was the no questions asked guy. He would never open a customer’s delivery and had never even thought about doing it in all his days as a courier. The more you know, the more opinions you have, and then the more you think. Just do the job and leave. There was no need in potentially jeopardising this name he seemingly made for himself. So, what had changed?

What’s so important in this tiny box? More importantly, why do I feel like I recognise it?

Whatever it was, it was not his problem much longer, and instead, he tried to focus on the well-earned drink that awaited him at Samson’s. However, no matter how much he pushed his attention from the box and stared at the numbers slowly rising above him, his eyes quickly drifted back down.

He was the no questions asked guy until today.

Undoing the metal catch at the front, he slowly opened the box, just enough to peek inside. What looked like a modest remnant of something bigger stared back at him. Some kind of crystal, coated with a dull white light, shattered at the edges as if broken down in form — it was beautiful. There was a warmth exuding from it, like waves of calmness that made him feel peaceful and inquisitive in equal measure. It was a familiar feeling, a comforting feeling of security against his thoughts, but it also pushed him further from his understanding that he should not be doing this. Whisking James back to the moments he had been having inside his strange dreams, the feelings he had been continuously having for the last month, it called to him.

God, it can’t happen here. Not now.

Looking down at the thin fragment, he suddenly found it difficult to take his eyes away. Staring intently at the crystal shard, he began to hear a voice. It was muted, but some words were barely audible.

“It must be infused. Stand back. It’s ready.” It was steady and controlled. Yet, gravelly and straining. From what James could make out, it was giving orders. “We can’t take the chance. Raziel?”

The elevator bell dinged loudly in the cold silence, forcing him back into the current moment. Promptly closing the box and securing the clip, he composed himself and took a deep breath, trying his best to forget what he had just heard.

What the hell was that? Thank God it wasn’t as bad as this morning.

The panic in his mind was quickly replaced with confusion as the doors opened. Instead of an entire floor, a single, long hallway ran from the exterior of the shaft to a pair of wooden double doors that could be seen in the distance.

James slowly stepped out of the elevator, carefully inspecting the interior, as the doors slid shut behind him and the whirring of movement could be heard.

The corridor ahead was lined with white and light brown floral wallpaper accented with gold trim, a stark contrast to the architecture he had seen till now; so much so that it became garish the longer he looked at it. The floor was again parquet; a black and white diamond effect that ran the length of the hall and ended in the only direction he had access to. Looking down towards the doors, he saw that they were slightly ajar. Paintings adorned the walls, portraits of figures, all with varying expressions and clothing. Yet, there was a unified feeling he got from them, each holding a similar air of superiority.

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As he shuffled towards them, his shoes made a noticeable echo against the hard floor in the dead silence.

Following the hall closer to the wooden doors, he made his way to present day in the clothing styles worn by the subjects of each picture. Stopping short of the hall’s end, he focused in on the last person to be painted.

A male face stared back with dull, turquoise eyes. His dirty copper hair was slicked back behind his ears, and his broad smile was framed by a well-trimmed goatee ever so slightly peppered with grey. He wore a brown tailored suit with matching waistcoat, and his cufflinks were black jewels at the end of his slender arms. His eyes felt as if they were focused on James just as much as he was focused on them. It made him grow uneasy the longer he stared at it.

Suddenly, a noise came from behind, forcing him to pivot towards the double doors. There stood the man in the portrait, dressed almost identically, although admittedly a little shorter than he had imagined.

“Delivery, right? Come in. Come in,” he gushed, producing the same broad smile accompanied by his almost theatrical tone of voice.

Opening the door wider, he backed up into a large office, working his way around an enormous walnut desk, positioned just back from the centre of the room. The bearded man kept his eyes locked on his guest, as James followed him over to the expertly crafted centrepiece. The well-dressed gentleman almost glided across the black and white floor that continued through from the corridor, before coming to a sudden stop. Leaning one hand on his workspace, he looked over to James expectedly, pivoting his body smoothly towards him.

“I’m here to deliver a package.”

“Well, have you got it?” His eyes sparkled with anticipation.

James slipped his hand into the messenger bag and yanked it out. “You must be Mr. Slued. Here you go.”

The glistening of Slued’s eyes appeared to fade as he tilted his head and looked somewhat confused; first at the box and then at its messenger.

“Strange,” he uttered, motioning James to place the box on the desk. Falling back into thought, he finally answered James’ enquiry. “Yes, Nomad Slued. I saw you looking at the portraits outside. They are previous owners of my venture.”

The mysterious figure walked around the desk and sat down, enveloping himself in the leather chair, crossing his legs with enough flair to draw attention. He spoke slowly, eloquently, and as if each word was a prisoner struggling to make its way out.

“Venture?” James stifled a laugh.

“All business is risky, wouldn’t you say? Especially in this day and age, for your kind.”

A silence grew within the room, as Nomad sat smirking, locking his gaze. The quiet seemed to linger longer than it should, stretched out, as time appeared to slow.

James began to feel the air was thinner in his lungs, and the blood was forcefully rushing to his ears. His head started to hurt, and he prayed he would not have a repeat of the elevator. Not so soon.

Finally, he shook himself free and managed to reply. “Bike messengers?”

“Sure, bike messengers. Did you look inside?”

“No, I just deliver the package, the contents are best left alone.”

“I see, I see.” He lingered. “And nothing strange happened while it was in your possession?”

“You mean apart from the alien abduction?”

Nomad smiled, but it was apparent he was beginning to grow impatient, and the answers James was supplying were not what he expected. He elevated himself off the chair with a sudden speed and picked the box up.

“I know you looked inside; they always do.”

“You need to get yourself better messengers then. Thank God you asked for me this time.”

Nomad opened the box. “Beautiful, isn’t it? They say that it’s ancient, older than most other jewels…in existence.”

James thought back to the elevator, as he stared intently at the crystal just a few feet in front of him, glaring back from the carved wooden box. He began to hear the voice again. The same words. His chest tightened and all he could think about was reality slowly disintegrating around him. His legs felt weak and the pain in his chest was back.

“Seems pretty ordinary to me. N–not that special.”

“N–not that special? Really, is that so?”

Nomad stood peering into his eyes, his pupils darting back and forth relentlessly. He watched and waited. He could feel the saliva in his mouth increasing and the taste of a fresh catch was on the tip of his tongue. And yet, there was no response. He closed the box and threw it into his desk drawer with a huff.

James breathed a sigh of relief.

What the hell is happening to me?

“Thank you. I’m sure you can find your way out,” Nomad muttered, contorting his face.

“Yeah…have a nice day, sir.”

The customer backed off, moving towards the large glass window at the back of his room and turning away to look out past the Columbus Circle off fifty-ninth street, over towards Central Park.

As James began to quickly exit, he heard Nomad’s voice once more.

“If you wouldn’t mind. Say hello to Mr. Lyall for me, won’t you? I haven’t spoken to Arthur for such a long time,” he hissed.

Staring back at the broad smile across the gentleman’s face, his messenger decided not to respond.

In the next few minutes, James made for the main reception hall; his pace was far faster than entering the building. Making it to the glass doors that led to the exterior, he rifled through his pocket and grabbed a beaten-up packet of cigarettes. In light of the last hour, perhaps it was needed. His hands were shaking, and he had no idea why. It made placing the cigarette to his lips difficult, but eventually he lit it. Looking back towards the number left, he counted only three before he was out.

As he stood outside Cadenslocus Tower, his mind mulled over what had just occurred, and it all moved so fast. The box, the shard, the voice, and then there was Nomad Slued. Nothing he asked made an ounce of sense. What was Nomad expecting him to say? After all, he was only meant to deliver the package, which is all Craig had asked. He placed his hand against his temples and slowly pushed his hair back. For a second, James contemplated texting the Lumberjack and warning him that under no circumstances would he be willing to deliver another package to this building, but he thought better of it.

He had been feeling a little overworked at the moment; maybe that was why he heard those voices, twice, from the crystal, in quick succession. For God’s sake, it had to be. It was the only plausible explanation, or perhaps the crystal was actually talking to him.

Yes, it was just your average talking crystal, just whispering sweet nothings during the elevator ride. Of course.

Not to mention that voice this morning. That made three in total. Good to know mirrors also wanted in on the conversation. Soon he would be starting a support group for those plagued by the unending plight of inanimate object harassment. He obviously just needed a break, some time off, something to get him away from all of this for a bit and focus on making sure he could push through whatever was going on with him.

What the hell am I thinking? Am I actually losing it?

Taking another draw from the cigarette, he looked up towards the darkening sky as he pushed his racing thoughts back for now. His plans to meet Arthur at Samson’s were the priority, and he was sure that talking about this over a whisky would help alleviate any worries he had.

James unchained his bike and hopped on, taking off down the snowy passages away from the tower and past the outskirts of Central Park.

This time, the snow did little to calm his nerves.

********

Arthur closed the musty book spread open in front of him. “An Oracle? I had a feeling that’s what it was. I just couldn’t remember the name. Thanks, Sammy. So, they’re still looking for Akertians.”

“You said they asked for James specifically?”

“Yeah, by name. Hopefully, James delivering this will douse the flame. It can’t be any more than a suspicion, cause no one else knows. Just me, you, and Lucy.”

“Should we tell Aker?”

“No…no, not yet. Ya know what he’ll do, and I don’t want that for James, I’ve never wanted that for him.” Arthur sighed, hanging his head. “This, ‘Mr. Slued’, can ya get Lucy to check the archive for his name? I don’t recognise it at all, but maybe I’m just getting forgetful.”

“Of course, we’ll find him if he’s in here. Come on, we better get back up there. I’m sure James will be here soon.”

“I thought they’d left me alone, ya know. Damn Andrealesians. What more do they want to take?”

“I don’t think they have a limit, but it worries me that they’re so close. I thought they’d stopped chasing so hard. Aker may be our best option here, Arthur. Just think it over, will you?”

Stepping out of the small room and back into the damp cellar, Samson waited for Arthur to begin his trip back upstairs before swinging the wall back into its original position and securing the metal handle. As he started to scale the steps back up to the waiting patrons, he let out an almighty yell; one that can only be achieved by a boss or parent towards their employee or child, respectively. Unfortunately, this was both.

“Lucy! I’ve got something I need you to do!”