Foreboding Skies (The Skybreaker Saga Book 1) by Connor Taylor Page A

blindfolded, wearing oven its, on a crashing plane.
    Still, if Uncle Sam was going to spy on me then the least I could was return the favor. Channeling my resident ratel spirit I multi-plied my hearing several times over. “Why would you try to antagonize him like that? Did you read my report on him?” Hemingway asked with a hard edge in his voice, he didn’t like the women’s style.
    “I did” came the tight reply. Poor Hemingway seemed taken completely off guard by her blatant hostility.
    “You say that he is responsible for dozens of violent incidents with a staggering body count. But you go on to say that he is not dangerous and is no threat to the public, if your reports are to be believed.” The way she said it made it sound like the validity of Hemy’s reports were very much in question. “How can you reconcile that with the dozens of bodies tied to him? Even if he is only responsible for a fraction of them he is still a killer. It doesn’t matter if he has a heart of gold and only goes after criminals!” She was just shy of shouting outright and both of them peaked my way to see if I heard. I was playing on my phone. An excellent device for modern urban camouflage the smart phone, anyone on one is assumed to be in their own little world.
    “I know that, but the only people who have turned up dead in relation to him have been murderers, rapist, and drug-dealers.” Hemy said in his exceedingly deep and methodical voice. “And as for tonight, I don’t think he did it.” He raised a hand to silence her forthcoming objections, “I know he is capable of killing, but what happened tonight was far more brutal and flashy than anything else I suspect him of doing. And need I remind you that our best description from eyewitnesses is, and I quote, “A Caucasian or Asian man, possibly a woman, who was between five six and six five!”
    I had to stop myself from laughing at the –staggeringly vague description. I still wonder why law enforcement bothered with eye witness reports. People suck at remembering an event accurately under normal circumstances, toss in several stress inducing variables and accurate recollection plummets to complete shit. Science proved how flawed human recall was time and time again, and yet it was still in use.
    My unique nature as a Shaman lent additional protection against human scrutiny. I am not entirely of the corporal world and consequently it is natural to overlook and or forget about me completely. The more power I used the more I faded Even other supernatural beings fell victim to it if they were not looking specifically looking for me. Which is why I was doubly impressed with Hemingway. He actually seemed capable of remembering me in the long term.
    “I know eyewitness reports are sketchy at best, but every one of the incidents you listed in your report have similar characteristics. This most recent incident has all of the characteristics you identified in your reports. A real sick shit goes down, civilians rescued, everyone saw who did it, but no one can accurately describe the bastard.” The vulgarity of the Fed lady’s language was surprising. She struck me as the type who never swore because it was bad. “He is the guy, I know it, you know it, that smug bastard knows it too. You may think you understand him, that he wouldn’t hurt innocent people, but he’s a monster, they all are. And he doesn’t get to decide who is innocent or guilty and exact punishment.”
    Actually I did, it was part of my job, and as far as deciding who was naughty and nice, well I was a spectacular judge of character. Special Agent or Agent or whatever Jones was not. Her judgment had already been compromised by anger and fear. I assumed she lost someone important to something or other. She would want to throw me under as many busses as she could find and screw due process.
    Luckily for me, Hemingway believed in due process for everyone, even for non-humans. That and I knew people who knew