God Hammer

A Novel of the Demon Accords

By John Conroe

This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2015 John Conroe

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

The Demon Accords:

God Touched

Demon Driven

Brutal Asset

Duel Nature

Fallen Stars

Executable

Forced Ascent

College Arcane

God Hammer

Cover art by Ryan Bibby.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1 – Chris

Chapter 2 – Declan

Chapter 3 – Chris

Chapter 4 - Declan

Chapter 5 – Chris

Chapter 6 – Declan

Chapter 7 – Chris

Chapter 8 – Declan

Chapter 9- Chris

Chapter 10 – Declan

Chapter 11 - Chris

Chapter 12- Declan

Chapter  13 – Chris

Chapter 14 – Declan

Chapter 15 - Chris

Chapter 16 – Declan

Chapter 17 – Chris

Chapter 18 – Declan

Chapter 19 – Chris

Chapter 20 – Declan

Chapter 21 – Chris

Chapter 22 – Declan

Chapter 23 – Chris

Chapter 24 – Declan

Chapter 25 – Chris

Chapter 26 – Declan

Chapter 27 – Chris

Chapter 28 – Declan

Chapter 29 - Chris

Chapter 30 - Declan

Chapter 31 - Chris

Chapter 32 – Declan

Chapter 33 – Chris

Chapter 34 – Declan

Chapter 35- Chris

Chapter 36 – Declan

Chapter 37 – Chris

Chapter 38 – Declan

Chapter 39 - Chris

Chapter 40 – Declan

Chapter 41 – Chris

Chapter 42 – Declan

Chapter 43 – Chris

Chapter 44 – Declan

Chapter 45 – Chris

Chapter 46 – Declan

Chapter 47 – Chris

Chapter 48 –Declan

Chapter 49 – Chris

Chapter 50 – Declan

Chapter 51 – Chris

Chapter 52 – Declan

Epilogue

Epi-Epilogue

Author’s Notes

Prologue

The old mine was a piece of West Virginia’s coal mining history.  Standing in the low-roofed tunnel almost a thousand feet underground, General Tobias Creek was less interested in history and more interested in modern construction.

“You sure this is safe?” he asked the skinny nerd wearing the miner’s helmet.

“Perfectly.  The entire structure has been reinforced with steel rods and braces using the most up-to-date mining techniques.  It helps that this area is geologically stable,” the smaller man said.  Short and slender with crazy curly red hair and blue eyes, Dr. Carl Clark’s calm, matter-of-fact tone inspired more confidence than his outward appearance.

The two men left the thoroughly modern elevator and stepped across the dusty, coal-strewn floor of the tunnel to a wall-to-wall steel bulkhead and its attendant vault door.  Dr. Clark placed his hand on a biometric reader while leaning forward to look into a strategically placed camera.

“Retinal scan?” Creek asked with mild professional curiosity.

“Facial recognition.  The security system is completely cut off from the outside world, so there’s no chance of… contamination.  In the event of an unauthorized attempt at entry, the system launches a drone positioned in the ventilation shaft, which in turn ascends to the surface and transmits all known data on the attack,” the scientist said as the multi-ton door opened silently.

“Good.  We don’t need to lose additional state-of-the-art assets, now do we?” Creek asked.

“That was an unfortunate turn of events, General, one that nobody anticipated,” Clark said.

“That’s my point, Dr. Clark.  We should be anticipating everything.  That’s our job,” Creek said, peering into the dark space beyond the door.

Behind him, Clark sneered for a split second, wiping his expression back to what he imagined was a cool, detached look when Creek glanced back at him.

The newly revealed tunnel burst into brightness as overhead lights activated in sequence, one after another blinking on in what seemed like an endless row that stretched far into the distance.   The tunnel was otherwise unchanged from the time the last coal miner had left it, the only additions being a double row of round black metal balls, each almost three feet in diameter.

“They stay curled up like that?” Creek asked.

“It’s their default resting state.  Less identifiable, extremely space efficient, and almost invulnerable in this position.  We’ve also found that our personnel are more comfortable when they’re rolled up,” Clark answered.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Creek noted.

“You’ve seen the videos of them in action, General?”

Creek was silent for a moment, looking out at the seemingly endless rows of black orbs.  “Yes.  Your development process was… unorthodox.”

“I got the idea from ‘The Incredibles.’”

“The what?” Creek asked.

“You know, the Disney movie… with Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl?  The cartoon?  Don’t you have grandchildren, General?” the scientist asked.

“Oh.  The superhero movie?”

“Yes.  Mr. Incredible loses his job and takes another as a tester of robot designs.  But he doesn’t know that each design is made with improvements to overcome his strengths.  Syndrome is using him to build a robot that can overcome any superhero.  We did the same thing with captured lycanthropes and hemivores,” Clark said, simultaneously waving his right hand at the nearest orb.  “The current generation of Pede is thirty percent larger, able to attack forward, backward, from its dorsal or ventral sides.  The fore and aft mandibles are injectors that can carry a variety of agents, from neurotoxins to silver nitrate.  All twelve segments can spin independently of each other in both directions, and most of the expandable blades are silver, as you no doubt noted in the final test sequence.  The armor has a depleted uranium coating for density and to protect against—well, you know who. ”

The orb unfolded and rose up, the matte black metal clicking as it reached six feet in height with another three feet of insectile segments still on the ground.  Despite himself, Creek found he had backed up a step in the face of the gleaming, needle-sharp mandibles.

“You know the last test subject was a teenage boy, right?  Not the largest or most experienced of the species,” the general said.

“He was all we could find.  But he was still impressive in his second form, and the Pede handled him with ease.”

“True.  You’re controlling it with that wrist unit?” Creek asked, trying not to think of the bloody footage.

“Yes, the unit tells the Pedes that I’m the command soldier.  They will follow some hand signals and all voice commands of the wearer,” Clark said, rolling his right hand over and making a palm down gesture.  The menacing insectoid robot immediately curled back into a giant black beach ball of death.

“What does the unit on your left wrist do?” Creek asked.

“Oh, that’s a fitness tracker my wife gave me.  Counts my footsteps, monitors heart rate; things like that,” the scientist said, holding it up for view.  Lights flashed and blinked across the face of the tracker.  He tapped the black band, tapped it again, then shook it.  “Although it seems to be on the fritz.  Odd. It’s virtually brand new.  What can I say… poor quality control.”

General Creek grimaced as he watched the man fiddle with what seemed to be a senseless toy.  Fitness came from hard work and determination, not some cheap, foreign-made piece of crap that basically told you that you were a lazy sloth.

Shaking his head, Creek turned and left the storage vault, Dr. Clark following even as he still looked at his left wrist.  The vault door swung shut and far in the distance, the overhead lights started to blink off in reverse sequence.

The closest orb had settled into complete stillness, but as the heavy steel door chunked shut, it quivered.  Just a small, almost unnoticeable vibration.  Then its nearest neighbor did the same thing, as did the one across the row.

The quiver passed down the line of black orbs, running opposite to the approaching darkness of the powering-down lights, a strange meeting of beginning and ending.

Chapter 1 – Chris

Solid and immovable, the Huddlestone Arch loomed in front of me, a flood of memories running through me as I studied it and waited.  In my mind, I could clearly see the images of the boy and his werewolf mother tucked into one of the craggy crevices, both watching me distrustfully.

My most recent years of life were newly revealed to me and I still reveled in each crisp memory whenever and wherever they were triggered.  Scent seemed to be the most powerful agent of recall, followed by sound and sight.  The smell of a lilac bush will take me instantly to multiple memories of Tanya, but this spot had its own power to evoke.

Footsteps coming from the other side of the arch brought me back to the here and now, but it was a few seconds before the body that had made the sounds appeared.

A short, muscular man of middle years, with close-cropped brown hair and a tightly groomed mustache and beard marched down the pathway through the arch.  He wore dark Oakley sunglasses, worn hiking boots, gray cargo pants, and a loose, dark blue polo shirt; well-muscled arms swung at his side as he moved confidently to the middle of the darkened archway.  He stared my way but said nothing as he came to a stop under the arch.  After a second, he grimaced and waved me over.

“About a confused-looking, non-cover-taking son of bitch, aren’t ya?” he growled.

Bemused, I walked over to him.  Five-five , maybe five-six and about a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet, he had a confidence much larger than he was.  I knew he knew who I was because I had introduced myself when I’d hired him.  It hadn’t seemed to impress him much.

His first name was Mark and I hadn’t found out his last name.  Mr. Deckert had given me a slip of paper with just the first name and phone number on it when I’d asked him for a discreet investigator who was knowledgeable about the intelligence community.

“We ain’t standing out in the open for this shit, ya know.  I’m not even certain this spot is safe,” he said, scanning the surrounding area.  “No phone or electronics of any kind, right?”

I shook my head, having stripped myself of all items that used batteries for anything.

Nobody was nearby, I was certain, or at least Grim was certain.  Likewise, there were no drones, planes, or satellites focused on us, according to my combat persona.

“I’ll say this for ya.  You do things big.  I saw the Washington FUBAR on video, Jack.  Fucked-up stuff,” he said, still scanning the area.

It took me a second to realize that the word Jack wasn’t a mistaken name for me but more of a temporary nickname like bub or pal.

“This scenario is just as big… maybe bigger. Nice little clusterfuck you landed me in the middle of,” he said without rancor, stopping his side-to-side scanning to study me with a tilted head.

“You are going to pay me for this intel dump, right?” he asked.

I pulled the envelope from my pocket and handed it to him.  Tucking it away in his cargo pocket, he continued to study me, with an occasional glance around.

“Okay, I had to really dredge deep through all my best HUMINT assets to get this name,” he said, passing me a folded piece of paper.  I opened the page to find a neatly hand-printed word: ANVIL.

Looking up, I opened my mouth, but he spoke first.  “Don’t!  Do not say that word out loud.  This thing has ears everywhere.”

“Is it DARPA’s?” I asked quietly.

He frowned at that name, but shook his head.  “Nope, comes from the good ole boys at No Such Agency,” he said.

No Such Agency—NSA.

“It was side project, lower echelon importance.  Nobody told the Poindexters writing the code that, though.  They made some kind of breakthrough, a radical adaptive software system that was self-diagnostic and self-repairing for any and all security, logic, and performance-based vulnerabilities as well as a result of exposure to other software, lower performance operating platforms, or reduced resource environments.  It was a surveillance program—surprise. NSA after all.  But the thing took off and adapted itself and its mission and they lost control of it.”

His change from rough talking to sophisticated briefing caught me a little off guard, but I overcame my surprise.  “What was its original mission?”

“To monitor e-mail traffic for national security threats.  It seems to have broadened its task to monitor all electronics and now to eliminate threats. It’s been massively effective.  Believed to be responsible for destroying three Islamic State training camps, killing six high-ranking terrorist leaders, and preventing, at minimum, four domestic terrorist attacks.  Oh and get this, Jack, it was also supposed to be undetectable by security software, a mission it also took to new extremes.”

“So, what?  It takes over drones and things to attack?” I asked.

“Takes over drones, issues false combat orders to ships, special operations units, and federal law enforcement, freezes assets in banks and financial institutions around the world, puts people on the no-fly list, hijacks cellular, wi-fi, and computer systems everywhere, and a whole shit-storm of things we probably don’t even know about,” he said.

“Like launching missiles,” I muttered before asking, “How come they haven’t stopped it?”

“They don’t know how.  The lead programmer had a stroke and is trying to relearn how to feed himself and wipe his own ass.  The other programmer is scared shitless.  Listen, that’s all I know and all I’m gonna find out.  This thing is more dangerous than you can imagine.  So thanks for the pay, but I’m done,” he said.

“I understand,” I said, meaning it.  I really did have a good idea what this program could do.  “Tell me, did you serve in the Marines with Deckert?”

“Do I look like a frigging jarhead to you?  I was Naval Intelligence, and don’t even start with the oxymoron shit.  Heard it all before, yada yada yada.  We’re the ones who point the spear and send it home, Jack.  Worked with SEAL Team Six and Force Recon assets,” he said.

I smiled, nodded, and held out my hand.  His little rant finished, he shook my hand, nodded back once.  Grim was tracking a set of soft running footsteps coming up behind me.  Without seeing her, I still knew it was a young woman, athletic, maybe a hundred twenty pounds, heart rate at just over a hundred and forty beats a minute.

Grim was watchful but didn’t consider her an active threat, so I just stood back and turned to look, making sure the hood of my sweatshirt covered my head.  Mark looked at me oddly before his own human ears told him someone was coming.

We both looked out of the arch and saw a fit, attractive girl come running down the path, her eyes wary as she took us in.  We both moved over to give her room and she shot through the arch and on down the path.  Mark’s eyes followed her spandexed form before he turned to me.  “I’ll take that as my cue.”  Then he took off after her, jogging in his boots and cargo pants, twice her age and five inches shorter and not caring a wit.  As he took off, I heard him mutter, “--about a non-angel-looking motherfucker,” and then he was around the corner and gone.

It had to go down as one of the most interesting meetings I’ve ever had, especially since the coverage of the events in Washington.  Still amused by Deckert’s guy, I turned and headed south, toward lower Manhattan, toward home.

Chapter 2 – Declan

I kind of hate the part in the movies when the new kid hits the streets of the Big Apple and he or she is always all awestruck, wide-eyed, and obvious.  Damn me if I didn’t turn out to be that same kid.  What can I say? The late afternoon sun gleaming on the glass and steel buildings was just flat-out impressive.

Luckily, most of my gawking occurred inside the confines of Beast’s metal skin, which made me less noticeable but also made the tough driving tougher. Not to mention the noise and confusion, people cutting me off, cars careening around corners, pedestrians stepping out into oncoming death with complete nonchalance.

The sheer massive energy of millions of people and cars was overwhelming, almost intoxicating, not to mention the buses, trucks, cabs, and the rumbling subway underneath.  What couldn’t I do with that much ambient power? An image of my aunt shaking a finger at me popped into my head.

Somehow I made it to the Demidova Tower without hitting anyone or getting hit and pulled into the underground parking where a guard noted my name, handed me a parking pass, and directed me to a spot near the elevators.  He seemed to have expected me, which made me feel great right up until I took the elevator to the lobby.

When the door slid open to reveal a vast, open space dominated by massive, gleaming stone columns that reached three stories high, and a polished granite floor that seemed to stretch forever, I was back to gawking again.  Which was noticed almost instantly by a group of fifteen or sixteen college-aged kids who were camped out in the seating area.  A truly diverse-looking group, most of whom were probably a few years older than me, they were dressed casually, as opposed to me—in the suit that my aunt had insisted I wear.

The obvious thing to do was to head to the reception desk while ignoring the handful of kids, some of who were watching me with vast amusement.

“Can I help you?” the big security guy seated at the desk asked.

“My name is Declan O’Carroll.  I’m here to see Chris and Tanya,” I said, realizing as I did just how unlikely it had to sound.

He looked me up and down, face blank.  “I’ll need to see some identification,” he said in a neutral tone that made me wonder how many wackos showed up daily looking to meet with the newly famous couple.

I handed over my Vermont driver’s license and he punched my name into his terminal.  An immediate frown was the result, which occurred simultaneously with an itchy voice in the back of my head.  Not Sorrow’s voice, but the intuition I’d developed around technology that told me something was different.  The guard, whose nametag said Andrew, poked at the keyboard for a moment, his finger strikes getting more forceful in the manner of someone attempting to speed up the computer through sheer force.

“Hey Joe, can you look at this?” Andrew asked over his shoulder.  Another big guy wearing the black uniform of Demidova Security stepped over and looked at the screen.

“What the hell did you do to it?” Joe asked.

“Nothing—I just put this kid’s name in and the whole thing froze up,” Andrew said. “Says he’s here to see Miss Demidova and Mr. Gordon.”

The other guard, Joe, looked me over, clearly not buying it.  “The guard in the garage booth found my name okay or I don’t think he would have let me park my car down there,” I offered, still getting an odd vibe from the computer.

“I’ll call down to the garage and see what Morgan has to say,” Joe said, picking up a phone.  “Why don’t you have a seat near the interns while we sort this out?”

The seating he was pointing me at was fairly close to the group of kids who were also, apparently, interning here this summer.  Chris hadn’t told me about other interns, although he had said the dress code was flexible depending on the situation and not to worry about it.   Of course, Aunt Ashling had decided that meant I needed to worry about it and hence my new, uncomfortable, off-the-rack suit.

Ignore them. Show them no emotion, Sorrow offered, which was a big improvement, as a short time ago it would have suggested much more violent ideas.

If they continue to disrespect you, crush their throats and let them suffocate where they stand.  And there we go—backsliding again.

I sat as far from my fellow interns as possible and watched the rest of the room, taking the time to examine the feelings I had gotten about the Demidova computer system. Or maybe from the system.

The guard was still trying to get it to unfreeze, growing more frustrated by the second.  I extended my senses in that direction, not expecting much at this distance.  Instead, I was shocked at the feeling of power I got—massive power.  Then it moved.  One second, it was like a dark cloud around the terminal, the next it was across the room, centered around the eight or nine open laptops and tablets the interns had out, spreading to their cell phones as well.  It was almost palpable to my other sense, which was either operating on a much higher level then it ever had before or the cloud was just that noticeable.

“You an intern too?” a voice asked from the row of seats behind mine.  I turned to find a sharp-eyed older kid of mixed heritage looking at me curiously.  He wore jeans and a black tee that said May the Mass times Acceleration be with you with a Star Wars-themed logo around it.

“I guess I am,” I said, instantly regretting my words.

“You guess?  You don’t know?” he asked, incredulous and slightly amused, like I had just handed him a gift.

“Well, I should have phrased that differently.  I know I’m an intern, I’m just not sure I’m in the same program you are,” I said.

“You’re not a comp sci student then?” he asked, his amusement replaced by curiosity.  More than a few of the other kids were listening to our conversation.  Some of them seemed normally curious. Some seemed like they were waiting for a punchline.

“Yeah, but I don’t think that’s why I’m here.”

“Not that good a programmer?” he asked, expression innocent, eyes predatory.

I studied him for a second, recognizing the type.  The smart kid who uses his brains, academic achievements, and IQ score the way a bully used their muscles.

“What are you… a senior?  MIT?  RPI?  CalTech?” I asked back.

“Graduate student at MIT.  Good guess.  Let me try—you’re a… sophomore?  At community tech?” he asked back, getting a laugh from a couple of the guys who were watching.  His glance back at them was directed more at the three girls sitting on one couch than the dudes, though.  And probably mostly at the pretty brunette in the middle.  Ah, trying to impress the ladies.

So predictable,  Sorrow said.

I found myself agreeing with the evil sentient book that lived inside me.

“Wow.  Look at you.  So proud.  Mommy and Daddy’s little guy all grown up in the big city,” I shot back.

He pulled back a bit, clearly not expecting my aggressive counter.  He was, after all, older, and if he was running around quizzing people about their standings, then it reasoned that his were near the top.

“You should learn to speak to people with more respect.  It might have a big impact on your future,” he said, now going for the rational older student approach.

“Hah, good advice.  Try some yourself.  I’m not in your program. I’m not here for programming. My skill set is… different... very different.  It doesn’t fit into your neat little world. So step off, MIT.  Bother someone else with your status game.  Or maybe you could fix your own cell phone, if you’re so smart and all,” I said, pointing at his pocket, where I could sense it.  The cloud that I could only feel, not see, had crept closer, moving into unopened laptops and cell phones until it was as close as the douche canoe’s own Android treasure.

Part of me was weirding out about how vivid this all was: the image of the cloud, the sense of it in individual pieces of electronics that I wasn’t even touching.  The other part was noticing that it hadn’t come near my own phone or the Macbook in the computer case at my feet.

MIT frowned at me, pulled his phone and looked at it, then started to push keys with increasing frustration.

“What did you do to my phone?” he demanded.

“What’s the matter?  Need help?  Here, let me look at it,” I offered, extending my right hand toward him.  The runes and glyphs on my skin darkened to visibility as my hand got near the phone in his hand.  The cloud pulled back, the phone’s display lit up, MIT gaped at me, and the guard at the desk called my name.

“Mr O’Carroll?  Sir, our system is back up and your appointment is clear.  We’ve called the executive suite and someone will be right down to get you… sir.”

“Thank you,” I said, mildly shocked at the sudden respect in his voice.  What the hell was on that monitor screen?

MIT had an odd look on his face; half constipation and half strangled frustration.

“We done here?” I asked.

I’ll give him this… his recovery time was fast.  The confusion left his face and he leaned closer.  “Done?  I don’t think we’ve started.”

“Good,” I said, smiling.  “Because the last thing we want to do is get started.  That would be bad.  Real bad.”

A woman’s loud gasp by the elevator precluded his response and we both turned to look.

One of the center elevators had opened and the woman was backing away from it, a look of panic on her face.

A massive wolf flowed out of the elevator and stopped, swiveling its big head till it locked on to us like a tank turret.  Seven feet long, standing three-and-a-half feet at the shoulder with a black cape over tannish brown fur, it was impressive and instantly recognizable to just about anyone in the world who had seen any form of media in the last six or seven months.

Awasos started walking right toward MIT and me, his form suddenly shimmering and shifting until a much, much larger Kodiak brown bear walked where the wolf had been moments before.

God’s gift to programming pulled back, tripping in his haste to get back to the other kids, who were either frozen or falling back themselves.

Awasos ignored him and stayed focused on me, while everyone else focused on him.  I’m not sure that anyone else noticed the woman who stepped off the elevator behind ‘Sos, but I sure did.  It must have been one of the few times she hadn’t commanded instant attention upon entering a room, and I think she might have been amused by it.  Or perhaps just amused to see the massive beast beeline straight for me.

“What do we do?” Andrew the guard asked.

“We don’t do anything… anything at all,” the other one, Joe, answered.

As if they could.   For the second time in minutes, I found myself agreeing with Sorrow.

Awasos, even ambling along, covered the distance between us in a shockingly short time.  I wasn’t exactly scared as he came up to me, but let’s just say he had my attention.  His head was almost level with mine and the hump on his shoulders was over my head.  He seemed to take up as much space as the whole reception desk.

“Ah, hey ‘Sos,” I said, a little uncertain.  A nose the size of a big apple snuffled my suit, then moved down to my feet—or rather the computer case at my feet.  Ah… that’s it.

I unzipped the case and pulled out the Lupus Industries pemmican bar tucked inside.  An outdoor store in Burlington sold them and they were made in upstate New York.  This one was elk meat, and I knew it was really tasty.  I wasted no time in ripping the package open and stuffing it into his open mouth.

“What the hell are you feeding him?” Stacia Reynolds asked, coming up behind him, dressed down in a blue golf shirt and soft, worn-looking jeans with little moccasins on her feet.  Everyone else on the ground floor was staring at us.

“Anything he wants.  Anything at all, right buddy?” I asked as I dared to ruffle his neck fur.

“You know he likes you well enough without the bribes, don’t you?” she asked.

“Don’t know anything of the sort.  I do know that he likes meaty snacks, though, so that’s what I’m not going to be.”

“Bloody ace!” a soft voice breathed in awe.  I glanced over to find the pretty brunette intern staring at Awasos with a look of wonder on her face.  Then she glanced at me and frowned.

I looked away even as my brain deciphered her accent and came up with Australian.  Awesome.  Hot brainy Aussie girl and she was so not impressed with my little exchange with the Grad-u-nut student.

She will cower at your feet.  Oh yeah… evil grimoire living under my skin.  Right.  No dating for Declan.

Ignoring the girl, I looked at Stacia, who was smiling at me, an evil gleam in her beautiful green eyes.  Great. She’d caught that whole little exchange.

“Right, so what now, Camp Counselor Reynolds?” I asked.

“Right now, we take you to the exec suite.  After that, we can get your stuff, or do we send somebody for it?” Stacia said, looking at me.

“Ah, no.  Beast doesn’t play well with others,” I said, picking up my computer case and the empty wrapper.  Then I looked at Stacia’s shirt, well, at the name on her shirt.  Let’s be honest: myself and every guy in the place had already been looking at her shirt and I bet not a damn one of the others had read the advertising either.

Lupus Industries.  I looked down at the pemmican wrapper.  Same thing.

She was grinning when I looked up.  “My Pack.  Chris actually started the whole pemmican business.  Fur Face here gets free bars all the time.”

“You mean he played me?  Like a chump?” I asked, looking over to the huge brown eyes that were trying to appear innocent.

“Of course.  He’s ruthless where food is concerned.  But don’t you think he knows who gave him back his best friend?  His father figure, brother figure, and closest pal?”

“Oh,” I said brilliantly, likely further impressing the girl from Down Under, who was shamelessly listening like everyone else nearby.  “Hadn’t thought of that.  I tend to concentrate on the furry battle tank barreling down at me and forget to do the whole psycho babble analysis.”

She laughed, moved up close, and gave me a quick hug and then turned to go, holding onto the sleeve of my suit coat as if to tow me by main force.

“Nice suit, by the way.  Covered in bear fur, but nice,” she said.

“Ah Miss Reynolds?” Joe the security guard asked.

“Yes Joe?”

“Mr. O’Carroll will need a security badge, ma’am,” he said.

“Oh right.  Thanks for reminding me,” Stacia replied.  She reached two fingers into a tightly fitted back pocket and fished out a plastic card that appeared to have my picture already on it.  I had to wrestle down the instant impulse to pull out my phone and text Mack that my face (or a facsimile thereof) had been pressed against Stacia Reynold’s butt.  Juvenile yes, but what can I say?

My hand actually twitched toward my pocket before I reined it in and instead reached out and took the thick plastic ID card from her hand.

“Ah, thanks,” I muttered, pinning the card onto my jacket as I followed her to the elevator, three-quarters of a ton of bear walking alongside me like a furry brown wall.  The entire room was standing stock-still and staring as we waited for the elevator to open.

“’Sos, elevator size please,” Stacia said, and the bear became a wolf as we stepped into the car.  As the door closed, I could still see the interns watching, mostly wide-eyed.  The Aussie girl still had a little frown.  Way to impress the ladies, O’Carroll.

Chapter 3 – Chris

Seven blocks from the tower, as the shadows deepened in the city’s concrete canyons, they came for me.  A slight whirring was the only warning, but it was plenty for Grim.

The sound came from behind me and suddenly Grim was in control, leaping up twelve feet to bound off the brick building closest to me.  Spinning in flight, a silver quarter shot out from my right hand, tearing through the foremost black drone’s center and burying itself in the asphalt of the street.  The drone fell, but the other two with it kept coming, a soft chuffing sound and exploding brick behind me the only clues that they were shooting at me.  Five quarters spun out from my left hand, spreading out like flat silver buckshot, two hitting one drone and one hitting the other.  My feet touched the concrete of the building across the alley and I ran straight up the wall, Clinging my way to the roof.

The view was more open, but it wasn’t a very gratifying scene.  Dozens of additional drones lifted up from almost every street and alley around me.  They must have been spread across this neighborhood, two or three to a street, lying in wait, covering the most likely approaches to the Demidova tower.

Now they all moved as one in my direction, a swarm of black, deadly fliers all coming for moi.

Dropping back into the alley I had just cleared, Grim let go of the extra quarters from my hands and pulled the twin suppressed Glock 19 pistols from their inside-the-waist holsters.  Tanya had made me promise to carry again when the recent troubles had started and now I was really glad I’d agreed.

My feet hit the street as the first drones came over the building I’d just vacated.  A horn blared and I jumped, my left hand gun snapping off three shots into the sky as I bounded to the top of a streetlight, the yellow taxi braking hard to avoid the spot I’d just been in.  Instead of running over a guy in jeans and a dark hoodie, the cabbie received a shot-up, smoking drone dead center of his taxi’s hood.

The lamppost was too bobbly to give me a good jump so I dropped off it, hooking one wrist over the arm of the light, letting it bend down under my weight while my body rotated around it, then let go like a kid jumping from a swingset.  Facing up at the sky, I fired with both guns as my body flew toward the next building, following the Pull of vampire energy that Grim directed ahead.

More drones dropped from my shooting, but the sky darkened as others kept coming.  Bullets hit the wall around me as I made contact and started running down the side of the building.  A big rust and green colored dumpster was Grim’s destination, a temporary shelter from the bullet storm. A burning stream of pain across one calf told me the bullets were DU and that I wasn’t dodging quite fast enough.  Drone fire hit the metal side of the dumpster as I ducked behind it. The bullets punched right through but stopped in the piles of stinking garbage while I braced my feet, Posted my body, and heaved on the entire dumpster with both arms and all of my aura.  My shelter left the ground with a groan of steel, flying twenty feet into the air and into a cloud of sleek black drones.  A few evaded the multi-ton missile, but a goodly number met their fate in the white and black plastic bags of society’s cast-offs.

I was around the corner and moving fast when I heard the dumpster land in an awful crash that had people turning to look and windows opening.  The short break let me reload both guns.  Just in time, too, as I immediately had to trim the drone flock down by four more as I rounded the front of a small corner bistro.  I was moving so fast that the napkins flew from the handful of outside tables, the diners not sure what had passed them.  Around another corner, then another, turning into a dead-end alley and racing up the side of a building to gain height and ambush the last nine drones from thirty feet up in a burst of gunfire.  My feet touched down on the alley’s pavement as the last black mini-airship hit the ground in a smoking heap.  For a second, the immediate area was quiet, the sounds of cars and people yelling coming from back out on the main streets.

But it was just a moment of peace as I tucked the Glocks away.  Then the pile of cardboard boxes in the closed end of the alley exploded outward as a metal something unfolded from under it like a twisted version of one of those Little Giant collapsible ladders, only this thing had guns and glowing red laser sights instead of metal rungs.  Two more eruptions, one by the corner I had just passed and the other halfway down the alley, announced, in a whining shriek of overpowered servos, that the first robot was not alone.

Five feet tall when fully unfolded, they had some kind of machine gun on each arm, likely in 5.56 mm, at least in Grim’s admittedly expert opinion, based on the sharp staccato report as they opened fire.

The flying drones had been shooting pistol munitions, maybe 5.7mm x 28mm, which would have good ballistics with low recoil—perfect for a flying platform.  But these rounds were decidedly more powerful and coming in six converging streams that included enough tracer rounds to make them look like the laser beams that sighted them.

Military doctrine dictates that you attack into an ambush, and hand-to-hand combat with multiple opponents suggests that you concentrate on one attacker, using that one to block the rest.  Grim Pulled a thick steel sewer cover from the center of the street, several hundred pounds that flew to my left hand and formed an immediate barrier between me and the slug storm that the first robot brought to bear on me.  Captain America and his trademark shield were in no danger of being replaced by Captain Hoody and my Department of Sanitation bullet blocker, but it got the job done.  Grim’s speed put us on top of the robot before it had fired more than twenty rounds into the steel shield.  Then the two-foot steel disc was flying like a Frisbee at one of the other robots while my hands twisted the two hydraulic gun arms around so that the red tracer streams ripped into the remaining automaton.  After that, it was a few micro-seconds of cleanup, by which I mean a mono-edged knife hands enough robotic body parts to render all three death machines inactive.

Sirens, whose distant screams were getting louder, announced it was time to vacate the area, so I grabbed one broken drone and ran up and over the nearest building and down the other side.  A slightly torn Macy’s shopping bag poking out of a garbage can got crammed over it the drone, covering enough that I could walk the remaining couple of blocks to the tower without drawing attention.  Just a grubby, hoodie-wearing guy with a Macy’s bag strolling away from the place where police and fire trucks were converging.  Nothing to see here, nothing at all.

Chapter 4 - Declan

I was acutely aware of how small the elevator was with a massive wolf next to me, pushing me closer to Stacia.

“So how were finals?” she asked as the elevator ascended fifty floors.

“Surprisingly stressful.  The actual tests weren’t too bad, but it was the studying on top of the pile of papers we had to get done.  I’m glad it’s over.  Looking forward to whatever I’m going to be doing for you guys.”

“Good.  Let’s check in with either Lydia, or maybe Tanya.  Chris is out but due back soon,” Stacia said.  Her minute grimace at saying Tanya’s name told me all I needed to know about how that all stood.  “Hey, that girl with the accent was pretty cute, don’t ya think?” she asked.

“Why would it matter what I think?” I asked back, maybe a touch defensive.

Her eyebrows went up.  “Whoa, just saying.  Summertime in the city and all that.  You’re still single, right?”

“Single, at least with humanoid types—kind of hooked up with an evil book, though,” I said, backing down my tone.

“You seem to have it under control,” she said.

“It’s a struggle.  Constantly trying to trip me up,” I said.  “Pretty sure it might be a deal breaker on the pickup scene.”

She tilted her head and tucked her platinum hair behind one ear.  “What does it do?”

“At first, it just gave orders like it expected me to obey or something.  If it had checked with Aunt Ash first, it could have saved itself a lot trouble,” I said.

“Yeah, you don’t take orders real well,” she said, grinning.

“At least not from evil books.  You guys, yes. Fifty shades of grimoire, not so much.  Anyway, it stopped doing that whole explode him and use this spell to wipe her mind sorta thing after a couple of weeks.”

“Wait, it really has those… spells to wipe minds?” she asked.

“Stacia, it’s got spells you wouldn’t believe, which is why I’m sometimes glad it’s locked inside me and not some other witch,” I said.

“Right up until the super cute teen intern is checking you out, right?” she asked.

I snorted.  “Yeah, it’s a drag.  But she wasn’t checking me out.  I think she was disgusted with how quickly I shot down that showoff grad kid,” I said.

“Nah, she was checking you out.  Trust me.  But back to the book of death. What else does it do?”

“Oh, well, now it’s super agreeable.  Offers helpful spells, tries not to suggest too many horrific murders, and makes observations that I will likely agree with,” I said.

“Umm, I see.  Sinister stuff,” she said, unable to keep from cracking a smile.

“See, you’re already falling for it.  It’s trying to worm its way into my confidence.  Next, I start relying on it and suddenly it switches parts of a lust spell so that the Aussie girl doesn’t just get the hots for me but instead becomes a virtual slave, basically mind wiped or something,” I said.

“Lust spell?  Not love spell?” she questioned.

“Yeah. Summertime in the city, remember?  I’m not looking to co-author a book with a girl,” I said.

“You guys are all the same,” she said, staring at me.

“Look, it was an example.  I would never do it. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have even thought of it, but that’s the kind of thing Sorrow suggests.  Hey Declan, cute girl there.  Why not a little magical Spanish Fly spell and a night of horizontal Olympics?  What’s the harm?   See, that’s the dangerous part of it.  The whole slippery slope thing,” I said.

“Oh, wow.  That is tricky,” she said, now looking a little worried.

“Good. You understand why dating is out of the question for this warlock, right?  I have to be like a monk or something,” I said.

“Oh Declan, I didn’t realize it was like that,” she said.

“No pity.  I can do that on my own.  What I need is people keeping an eye on my decision-making.  Don’t let me slip down that slope, okay?” I asked.

She nodded, eyes solemn, and the elevator dinged.  We were at the fiftieth floor.

The door opened and Tanya was standing right in front of us, Lydia, Nika, and Arkady just behind her.  She pushed forward, forcing us back into the elevator.

“Chris is coming in.  He’s been attacked,” Tanya said, blue eyes shifting toward black.  The others followed and Arkady punched the button for the ground floor.

“But he’s okay?” I asked.

“Why do you say that?” Lydia asked.  Tanya just looked at me in an uncomfortably predatory way.

“Well, if he were really hurt or something, you all would have just knocked out a window and jumped down or run down the building or something, right?” I asked.

Lydia pulled back like she was looking at me for the first time.  “He is like a mini-Chris, but smarter,” she said, looking at Tanya, whose eyes bled back to full bright blue.

“Yes, he’s okay.  But something or someone attacked him and he’s approaching the building now,” Tanya said.

“Did he call or something?” I asked.

“They have a bond,” Nika supplied.

“Oh, cool.  Like a personal wavelength sorta thing?” I asked.

“Actually, that’s as good a description as any,” Tanya said, smiling for the first time.  It was a tight smile, though, and I shuddered a little, thinking I wouldn’t want to be the party who had attacked her boyfriend.

“So who is mind-dead enough to attack God’s Warrior?” I asked.

They all exchanged a glance.   “We are still working that out,” Tanya said.

“Wait. This isn’t the first attack?” I asked.

“Holy cow, warlock. You are smarter than Chris,” Lydia said.

“You know it’s not fair to take shots at him when he’s not here to defend himself?” I asked.

“As if he could,” the little vampire responded. “But if you’re looking to fill in for him, be my guest.”

“Wow, the ageless wisdom of the Darkkin race focused on berating one eighteen-year-old college kid.  If only we could harness your powers for good instead of evil,” I said back.

Lydia snapped around to stare at me. Stacia and Nika laughed and even Arkady coughed suspiciously.

“I told you, Lydia, they bro-bonded in Burlington.  You’re now outnumbered,” Tanya said.

“They’ll need a dozen more,” Lydia muttered, then the elevator doors opened.  Immediately, we were crossing the vast lobby floor, the faster vampires leaving me in the dust.

A man entered the building, wearing a dark green sweatshirt with the hood up and grubby jeans, carrying a shopping bag.

The guard at the desk started to stand up but the man brushed back his hood and smiled at the guards.  “Just me, Andrew,” Chris said.

“Yes sir.  You alright, sir?” Andrew asked.

“Yeah, fine, just dirty.  Hey Joe,” he said to the other guard.  I realized that he probably knew every guard and janitor and regular worker by his or her first name.  He was the kind of guy you would find talking sports with a custodian or asking how one of his guard’s mothers was doing.

Tanya was upon him before Joe could answer, but Chris hardly blinked when she appeared in front of him.  Probably the bond thing they had going.

“Hey zayka, look. I brought you a present,” he said with a smile, holding up the bag, which said Macy’s on it.  He looked slightly tired but happy.  Then he spotted me in the crew and his smile got bigger.  “Hey Declan, you made it!”

“I did.  But how about you?  Good fight?” I asked, taking a stab at the reason for his good mood. Tanya snorted lightly as she gave him a quick once over for injuries, but apparently found nothing.

“Ya know, it wasn’t half bad.  All robots and these drone things,” he said, pulling a sleek black flier from the bag.

“DARPA attacked you?” I asked.  They all turned to look at me, eyebrows raised in question.

“I recognize the design.  We had a demonstration by a guy from DARPA at Spring Break.  Same drone, only ours didn’t have the gun on it,” I said.

‘Well it makes sense that they were government designs, but I don’t think DARPA was driving them,” he said.

“You’ve been investigating,” Tanya accused him.

“Yeah, well there’s not a lot else for me to do.  The demon stuff has all quieted down and you don’t need me for my razor-sharp business acumen, but these attacks on us have to stop.  Anyway, I got a name and a bit of a backstory,” he said.

“Attacks?” I asked.

Tanya turned my way.  “Somebody or something has declared war on us, but we haven’t figured out who or why.  Everything from assets disappearing to leaked e-mails, to faked e-mails destroying negotiations, to all of us continually appearing on the no fly list, to an unlikely number of near death accidents. It’s what we mentioned in Vermont a couple of months ago. And now this.”

“You know there’s something funky about your computers, don’t you?” I asked.

Tanya glanced at Chris then turned back to me, her attention focused.  “Explain?” she asked.

“Well, when I got here, the computer at that desk froze up, but I could sense something in it.  Then whatever it was jumped through Bluetooth or a wi-fi band to the waiting area where all the other interns were sitting, and it jacked their computers and phones.  Then it left completely.  I was going to ask if you’ve been working on some advanced software or something ‘cause that’s the feel it gave off.”

“That’s what I found.  It’s a NSA project that outgrew its masters and thinks we’re enemy number one,” Chris said.  “Named Anvil.”

Suddenly I could feel it again, but not at the desk.  This time, I sensed it in the very walls and floors around us.

“It’s back.  In the building,” I said, trying to pinpoint it.

“What can we do?” Lydia asked.

“Well, I noticed earlier that it doesn’t like the protective wards I put on my phone.  Maybe I could rune up the place,” I suggested.

“Okay, we can try that.  We’ll also have you talk to our chief IT guy, Chet.  He has a whole crop of interns to help build security software against this thing,” Chris said. “We’ll want to protect our computers first.”

“Actually, I was thinking of the eleva…” I started but was interrupted by a rushing train sound mixed with the screams of a dozen people, “-tors.”

Chris and the vampires disappeared with a pop of displaced air, appearing by the bank of elevators.  I stayed where I was, closing my eyes and pushing my senses deep into the stone and concrete of the building.  The falling elevator was dropping from the fortieth floor and I could feel the safety brakes being deliberately held back by something.

There was little time, but I had an idea, and Sorrow supplied a spell that would be much better than the hack I was going to attempt.

The clan or circle of witches I was descended from specialized in borrowing energy that they have an affinity for from their environments. Most witches use energy gathered inside their own magical core.  But the secret family recipe conserves personal energy and directly harnesses external energy. The most energetic thing in the building was the falling elevator itself.  So I ruthlessly took its kinetic power, as much as I could grab as fast as I could grab it, and shoved it into the elevator shaft.  Into the walls themselves, willing them to thicken and swell like a bee-stung hand. Sorrow’s spell made the conversion of kinetic energy to mass much smoother than I could have done by raw force of will alone.

As power left the falling car, it slowed, at least a bit, and as the shaft walls ballooned inward, the sides of the elevator screeched the most God-awful squeal of tortured steel and stone, loud enough to temporarily block out the screams of the people inside.

I shuddered a little at the damage I was doing to the elevator and its shaft, but when I opened my eyes, I found Stacia still with me, watching me with widened eyes.

Chris had ripped open the doors to the shaft and, from the flashes of energy I could see around him and Tanya, was preparing to do something drastic to catch the elevator.   But it was slowing on its own and when it finally appeared in the open shaft, it came to a stop, almost totally wedged tight, with the bottom of the car still a foot above the lobby floor.

Chris looked at the base, where the steel of the elevator was now jammed tight against the concrete of the suddenly much-smaller shaft and then glanced my way.

He smiled and gave me a nod before yanking the car door open with casual strength.  Eight or nine young people, who I recognized as part of the intern group, were quickly helped out of the car.

“Joe, shut down all the elevators. Now,” Tanya ordered.

“Ah, ma’am, somehow they already are,” he said.

She glanced my way and caught my little head nod.  I was locked in a bit of a battle with whatever this program was, both of us trying to convince the building’s elevator computers to do our bidding.

“Maybe shutting the power off to the elevators would be a good idea,” I offered through slightly clenched teeth.

“Do it,” Tanya said as Stacia moved closer to me, looking concerned.

“Done,” Joe said, and my struggle suddenly ended as the entity fled and the elevators shut completely down.

I took a deep breath and the world around started to spin, but a really strong hand grabbed my elbow and steadied my swaying form till I could stand on my own.  I gave Stacia a nod of thanks, then looked over at the scene by the elevators.

The college kids looked shaken up, but a few were realizing just who was pulling them to safety and some of the shock was being replaced by awe.

“Think your Aussie girlfriend is going to faint when she realizes who has a hold of her?” Stacia asked.

I snorted, both at the scene and her persistence in mentally pairing me with the poor girl who was now staring at Chris.

“Nah, she doesn’t strike me as the fainting type,” I said.

“Declan—maybe you could start on the elevators tonight?” Chris called.

“Ya think?” I asked, smirking when he gave me a lifted eyebrow.

“Such sass.  He like that with everyone?” Lydia asked Chris.

“Only people he likes,” he said.

“What if he doesn’t like you?” she asked.

“Then you eat flies and live on lily pads the rest of your life,” he said.

I shook my head at that old trope, yet as I did, Sorrow supplied a spell that seemed like it might legitimately create just such a transformation.

Off came my suit coat and out came a handful of Sharpies from my computer case.  Time to start earning my keep.

Chapter 5 – Chris

Is it just me, or does it seem ironic that you need stairs to get to the top of an elevator?  I was in a funny mood as I contemplated such deep, existential questions.

Maybe it was the near tragedy of almost losing half our summer interns. Maybe it was the adrenaline left over from my battle, but most likely I think it was putting a name to the enemy we’d been battling without identity for several months.

The voice of our secret weapon told me I was near, Lydia’s much higher tones a bell-like counterpoint to Declan’s surprisingly deep voice.

I got to the top of the elevator motor housing and found the two of them deep in conversation.

“But don’t you see?  If I get reliant on it, if I start to trust its advice, wham!  That’s when it yanks the rug out from under me,” Declan said.  He was sprawled out on top of the motor housing for elevator three, drawing runes with a large, black marker.

“But what if it never does?  What if it never betrays you and you miss out on all this vast witchy knowledge of the ages?” Lydia asked, sitting on the opposite motor housing, this one for elevator four, swinging her feet like a child.

“Are you working for Sorrow? Did it hire you?” he asked mildly.  His suit was rumpled, his white dress shirt now covered in dust and pen smudges, along with a little grease from the elevator shaft.

Our special intern had insisted on first warding the computers that controlled the elevators, then the automatic brakes inside the shafts, and finally the motor control units high atop the building.  These two were his last and I could send him to bed for a well-earned rest.  The poor kid hadn’t even seen his suite of rooms, drafted into protecting our headquarters right after the accident, working through much of the night.

“Hey, I brought you some breakfast.  Chef Remy made it special for you.  He’s dying to meet you,” I said, setting down the oversized tray I was carrying.

The kid finished whatever rune he was on, then dragged himself over to the edge of the housing and dropped down to his feet, his tired eyes fixed on the tray.

“Is that coffee?  If it’s coffee, I may have to marry you,” he said, grabbing the big mug and taking a deep sip.

“Once you finish that one, it’s off to your quarters for you,” I said.  “Anything else can wait till you get some rest.”

“You realize that anything else is the entire building, all the computer systems, all the corporate vehicles, and any cell phones or tablets you want protected?” he asked.

“Welcome to Demidova Incorporated, kid,” Lydia said with a smirk. “Summer fun in the sun.”

“Not the summer you had imagined, huh?” I asked.

“Actually, it’s kinda nice to just sit and draw out runes I normally doodle in class.  After finals, this is a nice brain drain,” he said, munching some toast and opening the stainless lid over Remy’s masterpiece omelet.

“Whoa, this thing smells awesome,” he said.

“They’re so light and fluffy, they’ll float away if you don’t cover them,” I said.

“You two sound like food perverts talking culinary porn,” Lydia quipped.

“Birds of a feather,” I said.  “Lydia, I’ll hang here with D, so you can get back to whatever mayhem you were plotting when you woke up this evening,” I told her.

Tanya and I had immediately decided that a senior member of the exec team should be with Declan while he warded the building to stave off questions and speed things along. She had taken him to the various control computers, the on-duty personnel quick to note the special status we were according Declan. Arkady had stood on the side of the elevator shafts while Declan hung in a Swiss seat from climbing ropes and did his thing.  Lydia had taken the next shift, and I had his final time.  When he got up this afternoon, Stacia would be his guide.

“Oh, the kids from the elevator wanted me to thank you for saving their lives,” I said.

He grimaced around a sip of orange juice.  “How do they know I had anything to do with it?”

“We told them.  Left off the witchy stuff and just explained that your skills braked the elevator.  They think that means you’re a mad blackhat hacker.”

“Well, I am, so that’s okay,” he said, cutting into the omelet with the side of his fork.

“So he’s already a hero?” Lydia mused. “Quick work, Junior.  Now all the girls will want you.”

He snorted at that, popped a bite of omelet into his mouth and immediately closed his eyes in appreciation.

“Wow, he’s just like you Chris—more interested in food than girls,” Lydia noted.

“I like girls, but if you recall, I have this whole witch and evil book vibe going on,” he said.

“Girls like mysterious boys.  And you, my young friend, are as mysterious as they come,” she replied, hopping lightly down from the motor and brushing off her butt.

“Yeah, some of them were full of questions. Including that rather smashing brunette with the brilliant accent,” I said, trying for an accent.

“Don’t quit your day job, Superman.  An impressionist you are not,” Lydia said.  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I better go fix whatever went wrong while I was up here.  Declan, nice chat.  Chris, remember to use complete sentences and avoid numbers bigger than twenty.”  Then she was gone.

“She really goes after you, doesn’t she?” Declan asked, picking his marker up and drawing while he ate with the other hand.

“It’s our thing.  When she stops picking on me, I know I’m in trouble,” I said.

“That’s cool.  Like siblings.  Mack and Jetta do a little of that.”

There was a buzzing, which I quickly realized was his cell phone, sitting on a corner of the housing.  I caught a glimpse of the screen, which showed a text from Mackdaddy.  The message was cryptic.

Well your real face will never get that close!

Declan laughed when he saw it, then put his phone back down, hiding the screen.

“Speak of the devil,” he said.

“What are those two doing for the summer?”

“Ashley’s dad asked them to house sit.  He’s teaching Mack to forge knives and they’re watching the house when Mr. Moore is back in Fairie, which is most of the time.  Jetta is waiting tables in Saratoga Springs, and Mack has a part-time job at an auto dealership.  The deal is free rent and includes utilities. They handle their food and Mack gets to keep or sell anything decent he makes on the side.  In return, the house is watched over and Mack, who is really good with tools, helps Mr. Moore with all of the orders he got since he reopened the forge,” Declan said.

“Sounds like a neat summer, at least for Mack.  He gets to learn new skills and make some cool stuff.  How does Jetta feel about it?”

“Are you kidding?  Jetta wants knives like most girls crave shoes, clothes, and jewelry.  Those two are going to be packing some serious blades come fall,” he said.

“So how about Caeco?” I asked carefully.

“She’s good.  We’re friends still. Probably helps that I didn’t date Ryanne or anything after we broke up.  But things were weird. She had this sort… I don’t know… admiration, maybe, for Mr. Jenks and I had all these witches and parents of witches maneuvering around me, and neither of us know much about relationships, and then Sorrow was inside me and well… we just chilled. Both loaded down with issues.  Soldier daddy issues for her and me, well I got the whole lost witch family thing going on. Anyway she’s working for the FBI this summer.”

“Right, helping Agents Krupp and Mazar,” I said.

“Yeah, Oracle pushed her hard for a summer job, but she doesn’t want to fall back into that ultra secret stuff.  With the Bureau, she can learn how not to be a soldier but still use her skills.  And the FBI needs all the help it can get with the supernatural stuff.”

“Has she started yet?” I asked.

“She goes to Quantico Sunday.  Monday, they will run her through an abbreviated training course.  The instructors will decide how much extra training she’ll need,” he said with an evil grin.   I just raised eyebrows at him.  “She’s gonna destroy their program—they have no idea what she can do,” he said, proud of his friend.

“Well I’m glad you two are okay.  Like you said, you both need some space.  And on the plus side, you shouldn’t have any witches to worry about while you’re here,” I said.

“Yeah, this isn’t what I was expecting, but like I said, it’s kind of soothing.”

“Well, we didn’t expect it, either.  But your arrival was a Godsend.  Anything your wards can do to keep that program,” I glanced around, “away will be huge.”

“You can talk here.  This pattern is one I use to block electronic signals of all kinds. Like an occult Faraday cage. My phone only works here because of the runes I have on its case.  Yours won’t pick up a signal,” he said.

I pulled my phone and sure enough, the no service message was up where the signal bars usually went.

“That’s the first time I’ve been happy to see my phone wasn’t working,” I said. “Okay, this thing is called Anvil and it has decided that Tanya and I are threats, I guess.”

“It must be really advanced because I’ve never felt a program like that.  Really powerful, it just sorta takes over whatever system it wants.  Jumps from desktop to laptop to cells, which makes it basically impossible to track.  Doesn’t like my magic, though.”

“I’m sorry Declan, but I’ve exposed you to this thing and I didn’t know how dangerous it was.  What about your aunt?”

He snorted.  “Rowan West is so heavily warded, it’s like Fort Knox for witches. Plus I left some active defenses in place. I’ll tell Aunt Ash to dial it up a notch and the wards will block everything.  She’s not very tech friendly so it won’t bother her, but some of the customers will have to learn to deal.  I imagine this thing is researching me through Oracle’s files by now.  I wonder what it will make of the references to magic?”

“Your guess is much better than mine,” I said.  “Honestly, how does something like this think?”

“Probably in a very linear fashion.  Computer programs follow logic trees, even the fuzzy logic ones.  It obviously has an adaptive learning element to it, but really, most programs just focus on their task.  If it was created to look for threats, the best thing to do isn’t trying to destroy it, but rather convince it that we’re not threats.”

“What?” I asked, taken completely by surprise.

“You dropped a friggin’ asteroid on a silo.  That’s what I would consider threatening.  That’s when you were probably labeled a threat.  Plus, who knows what e-mails the authorities were sending back and forth about you and Tanya.”

“So how the hell do we convince a computer that we aren’t a threat to the country?”

“I’m not sure.  But it must have parameters it uses to classify threats.  If we can find those out, we might be able to change them in your case and, probably now, mine as well.”

“So we what?  Hack the NSA?” I asked.

“No. That’s the kind of thing it would take as super threatening. Maybe talk to the programmers that wrote it.”

“Is it safe to leave it running around?  Who else could it label a threat?” I asked.

“I don’t know.  Just so you know, I’m not all that advanced as a programmer yet.”

My turn to snort.  “Yet you can actually hear a computer and talk to it,” I said.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna lie—that sorta rocks in the comp sci world.  But when I felt this thing in your system and in the interns’ stuff, it felt really strong.  And fast.  I don’t know how you remove something like that.”

“And Chet has brought in all these wonderkin.  That’s now become one of the projects they’re going to be working on.  Although I want to introduce you to Chet and have you tell him what you know about it.  But first, if you’re done here?” I asked because he was capping his marker and picking up his jacket.  He nodded.  “Then let’s get your stuff from your car and show you your rooms.  Tomorrow… well actually, later today, we can have you meet Chet and figure out your schedule.  There will be some training involved, by which I mean Tanya training.”

He groaned a little.  “I actually thought that might be the case, but was hoping for a few days off.  Jenks’ final exam was brutal and I’m still sore,” he said.

“How is my buddy Jenks?  Did he mention our little talk?” I asked.

Declan looked at me in surprise.  “No, he didn’t.  Ah, when did you talk to him?”

“Remember when we showed up to start your Demidova-approved workouts?” I asked.  He nodded.  “Well, about an hour before that first morning, I cornered him in his room and explained my personal expectations concerning treatment of all students and one in particular.”

His eyes got wide.  “No way?”

“Oh yeah.  Big way,” I answered.  “Good thing he’s a werewolf or his bones would never have healed in time for class that morning.”

“Shit.  I wish I could have seen it. Or at least a video of it,” he said, momentarily shaking off his fatigue.

“Come on.  Let’s get your stuff and get you settled.  You’ll have a few days before you start workouts, if only because we need you to ward the building.  But why don’t you plan on meeting Stacia in the corporate cafeteria at, say, two p.m.  She’ll guide you through the most crucial parts of the building till about dinner, say seven p.m. and then we’ll meet, introduce you to Chet, and talk about Anvil.”

“You don’t have to waste Stacia’s time babysitting me.  I’ll be okay,” he said.

“Not a waste of time for team members to get to know you better, and you them.  Plus, my security people are pains in the asses, which is a quality we look for when we hire them.  Within a few days, they’ll all know you, but this will stop any awkward incidents before they happen.”

“I can handle myself, you know,” he said.

“Oh I know.  I’m not worried about my guys hurting you, Declan… it’s their health I’m concerned about.  Oh and by the way?  Maybe when you get up this afternoon, you could return the elevator shaft to normal?  The repair guys are baffled.”

“Yeah, but it’ll take a little longer to get it back.  I had a lot of energy to work with, so unless we’re gonna drop another car, I’ll need to trickle it in from various places,” he said.  “You guys had a plan already, didn’t you?  I kinda jumped the gun, didn’t I?”

“We had a plan… we were going to use our combined control of vampire techniques to repel the elevator.  Tanya calculated that it would have saved maybe eighty percent of the people inside.  Your plan saved all of them, with only a few bruises.  I’ll take that kind of gun jumping any day,” I said, leading him back down the access stairs to one of the elevators he had just warded.

“Oh.  That’s cool then, but just so as you know—falling elevators and fires and explosions and buildings are all in my wheelhouse.  If there’s rushing water or oceans, then I’m out of my element… so to speak.”

Most kids… scratch that… most people would be puffed up with bloated egos and entitlement issues if they had a tenth of this kid’s power, and here he was telling me his limitations so I wouldn’t be too disappointed if we ran into something he wasn’t equipped for.  Amazing.

Chapter 6 – Declan

I thought Chris might have been exaggerating when he mentioned that I had rooms.  Turns out he was understating it.  I had my own suite.  A bedroom that was bigger than the one I shared with Mack at Arcane, a living room with a big flatscreen and game console, mini-kitchenette with a microwave, sink, and refrigerator stocked with cold drinks, and finally a big bathroom with an even bigger tiled shower with three showerheads.

Exhausted, I slept like the dead till about quarter of one in the afternoon and then took a twenty-minute shower without having anyone waiting impatiently for their turn.  The thing had a sound system that I could plug my phone into, and the three heads pulsed water in time to whatever music was playing.  After that, I drank an ice-cold energy drink while getting dressed, periodically looking at the view outside the building—on the flatscreen.  My suite didn’t have any windows because it was underground.  Turns out that there were at least four floors underground and that’s where the vampires’ quarters were.  The executive offices were at the top of the building, but the sleeping apartments were deep underground, which made sense, especially in light of the attacks they’d been having from that rogue program.

Dressed in comfortable jeans, well broken-in shoes, an old Rowan West t-shirt in dark blue, and equipped with my workbag of Sharpies, rune stamps, a few herbs and essential oils, and lots of ink, I headed out to find the corporate dining hall.

Easy enough to accomplish, as it took up almost the whole eleventh floor.  The actual dining room was bigger than Arcane’s gym and was very posh.  It looked expensive—so expensive that I thought maybe I had the wrong place.  But the hostess just smiled at me, glanced at my ID card clipped on my belt, and asked if I wanted a window seat or interior seat.

The view was incredible and it focused my attention outward and not on my fellow diners, who were human and mostly dressed in suits and ties.  Almost made me wish I had put my other suit on.  Almost.  But no one paid my clothes any mind and a snappy waiter took my lunch order from a menu without prices.

I was halfway through a cup of crab bisque when high, clear female voices caught my attention.

A trio of female interns was coming through the door, led by the hostess, and damned if the really pretty brunette from Down Under wasn’t right in the middle, between a tall, cute black girl and another girl who, God help me, was the walking persona of a geek, complete with dark-rimmed glasses, baggy jeans, and a t-shirt that said I take my Pi warmed to the eleventh degree, 3.14159265359.

I glanced away before they could see me watching, but the hostess led them right over to the table next to mine and they obviously saw me.  In fact, they all came to a stop next to my table and when I looked up, they were staring at me.

“G’day, I’m Grace. This is Aleesha and Joni,” the girl with the accent said.

“Ah, hi, I’m Declan,” I said, ridiculously happy I’d gotten that out without tripping over my words.

“We know.  We also know you saved us yesterday when the elevator fell, so we just wanted to say thanks.  Whatever you did, it was brilliant,” Grace said and I got hung up on the way brilliant rolled off her tongue.

“Ah, well, you’re welcome.  Rough way to start an internship,” I said.

“Right?” Aleesha agreed. “One moment, things are fine and the next, the damned elevator is free falling and we’re floating on the damned ceiling!”

“That’s terrifying,” I said, thinking that it really must have been.

“Aye, I was sure we were going ta cark it, but the bodgy thing rolled to a stop and it was all she’ll be apples.  So good on ya mate, yer blood’s worth bottling,” Grace said, smiling.

I had almost no idea what she’d said, but she seemed happy with me and I got the general gist of her comments, although the blood part was weird and it must have shown.

“I think she means you were really, really helpful,” Aleesha said.

“Oh, it’s just that we work with vampires and so I pay attention when anyone mentions blood.  Especially mine,” I said.

They blinked at me and each other, as if they had forgotten where they worked and who else worked here.

“Yeah, about that… any words of advice?  You seem to be tight with them,” Joni asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Well, first off, it’s two in the afternoon, so almost none of the Darkkin are up yet and you don’t need to be looking about for them.  Tanya could be, but it would be unusual, I think.  Oh, this is important—don’t stare into their eyes.  It could be construed as a challenge.  That goes double for weres—no staring unless you’re calling them out.  Don’t call them out without a tank or infantry platoon to back you up.  If you get a cut for any reason, cover it as fast as possible.  Wash and Band-Aid.  In fact, it’s not a bad idea to carry a few Band-Aids.  The older ones have control, so it’s the young ones, I think, that you need to be real careful around.  Don’t lie to either weres or Darkkin—they can tell—it’s a hear your heart rate and smell your sweat kinda thing.  I guess that’s most of it.  Common sense, I would say, though I don’t really know any young vamps, just older ones, and I know more weres than vamps.”

They all stared at me.  Finally Grace spoke.  “How do you know all that?”

“I’m guessing that you know a thing or two about avoiding the dangers of your country, right?  Snakes, spiders, salt water crocs, and sharks?” I asked.

“We don’t all live in the bush, ya know.  It’s not all Crocodile Dundee,” she said, frowning.

“Yeah, but don’t you have like a half dozen of the most poisonous snakes in the world, and I know you have funnel-web spiders like right in Sydney,” I said.

“True,” she said with a slight smile.

“Well, I grew up exposed to the supernatural world, at least some parts of it, and others I’ve been part of more recently.”

“How are you hooked up with him,” Aleesha asked.  I was pretty sure I could safely guess who he was.

“Long, long story,” I said, not wanting to explain more of my weirdness. They waited to see if I would tell it, but I just kept quiet.

“Well, the man obviously wants his privacy,” Joni said, turning toward their table.

Grace suddenly yanked out the chair across from mine and sat down.

“And now, apparently, we’re sitting here,” Joni said in the tone of someone who is expecting to not be listened to.

“How did you do it?” Grace asked, intensely curious.

“Do what?” I asked, although I had my suspicions.

“Stop the lift.  How could ya hack it that quick?” she asked.

I froze up, trying to think of what to say.

“The repair blokes were completely baffled.  I heard them.  Said the bloody thing was stuffed into its shaft,” she said, which reminded me that I had to fix it.  But what to tell them?

“Oh, I’ve seen that look before.  Usually just before a dude tries to baffle me with bullshit,” Aleesha said.

“Actually, I think he’s trying to figure out how much you’ll be able to handle,” a new voice said.  They turned to find Stacia standing behind them, dressed in designer jeans and a green shirt that set off her eyes.

“Are you saying he thinks he’s smarter than us?” Joni asked, frowning mightily.

“No, I’m saying you don’t have the reference points to work from.  Let’s say you three tried to tell me about… I don’t know… computer programming.  I wouldn’t know a tenth of what you said.  It’s not my thing.  You’re all top of your classes in computer science or mathematics right?  But how much do you all know about the world of werewolves?” she asked. “Or vampires?  Or other supernaturals?”

“Others?” Grace asked.

“Did you think it was limited to demons, angels, vampires, and weres?” Stacia asked.  “It’s a big, wide supernatural world out there and he’s top of his class at Supernatural U—literally.”

They considered that for a moment, then Grace turned back to me. “Where do you go to uni?” she asked.  After a second, I realized she meant my college.

“You’ve never heard of it.  But I do take classes at the University of Vermont,” I said.

“But that’s not your school?” Aleesha pressed.

“My degree will be from there, but my actual school is something different… really different,” I said.  They frowned, beginning to get angry at all the mystery.  I glanced at Stacia, and she gave me a little nod.

“It’s called Arcane.  It’s very small and very… specialized,” I said.

They waited, but I didn’t elaborate.

“How specialized?” Joni finally asked.

“A third of the kids turn furry under a full moon, a large percentage of the girls can kill you with a whisper, and Stephen King would be right at home,” Stacia said.

“Kill you with a whisper?  You talking witches?” Aleesha asked, eyes wide.

“Bingo,” Stacia said.

Aleesha whipped around to me.  “You go to school with witches?” She looked truly scared.

I nodded.

“Like real spells and curses witches?” she pressed.

“Yes,” I said, waiting to see what would come of it.

“Don’t you know you don’t mess with no damned witches?  Not ever!” she said, looking into my eyes to make sure I was getting it.  Beside her, Grace looked uncomfortable, but Joni looked mad.

“Bullshit!  That’s a bunch of superstitious crap,” Joni said.

“Oh?” Stacia asked, her voice a little deeper, making me sit up.  “Like werewolves are just legend?”

“Well I’ve never seen a werewolf, just grainy video, so as far as I’m concerned, the jury is out,” Joni challenged, confirming that she was a secret badass who was about to die a horrible death.  After Washington, the whole world knew there was at least one werewolf and now she was standing six feet away.

Stacia’s eyes went yellow—bright, glowing yellow, and her skin seemed to ripple. All three girls sucked in a breath and Joni pushed back. I jumped up.  “Okay, on that note, we’re leaving.  You guys keep this table; we’ll just head over here,” I said, stepping away from my chair, keeping my body loose and facing Stacia’s, which pulled her attention to me and a little away from Joni.  As I intended.

A foolish person in this situation would possibly touch the werewolf to pull them away from the challenge. A foolish person might then lose an arm, ripped clean from its socket. Aunt Ash didn’t raise any fools, so I just used my posture and body language to capture more of Stacia’s focus.  Sudden, decisive movement does wonders for a predator’s attention.

The waiter was headed our way but slowed as he took in the tension.  I caught his eye.  “Miss Reynolds and I need a different table.  And some sliced roast beef, maybe a half cow’s worth.”

Stacia looked from me to the waiter, then back.  She frowned as the words worked through her anger, then she took a breath and turned abruptly from all of us and strode across the room to a different table, where she pulled out a chair and sat down, back to us.

“Remember the whole stare in the eyes and challenge thing?  I said don’t do it.  First lesson failed.  Enjoy lunch.” And then I went to sit with my pissed-off werewolf friend.

“I wasn’t going to pull anyone apart you know,” Stacia said, doing exactly that to a roll.

“Well, I’m used to teenage werewolves who freak out easily, but for what it’s worth, I didn’t think you would, either.  Mostly, I thought it might be a teachable moment to your summer staff,” I replied, grabbing a roll for myself.

“Idiots,” she said.

“Narrow world views.  Sometimes the really smart ones have a hard time adjusting to something that implies they don’t know everything,” I said.

The waiter showed up with a platter of thinly shaved roast beef, approaching from behind me, putting it down gingerly along with a menu for Stacia.  “Sir, shall I bring the rest of your order when I bring Miss Reynold’s?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“I’ll be back in a moment, Miss Reynolds, to take your order,” he said.  She just nodded, frowning at the pile of beef between us.

I reached over and grabbed a slice, putting it inside my buttered roll and took a bite, then added some salt.  Another bite—better.

Stacia watched me before copying my actions and biting into her own sandwich.  She looked thoughtful as she chewed and swallowed.

“You learned a lot at school, didn’t you?”

“Our resident pack got particularly tense during finals week.  The Arcane chefs went through a whole bunch of roast beef and brisket. Some schools use therapy bunnies to relieve student stress.  We thought that might not go so well with Delwood and his pals.”

She laughed, almost despite herself.  “How about you?  I know you’ve lost your temper before.  Chris and Tanya made our security guys watch the video of both your fights with Delwood.”

“Wait, there’s video?  And why would your security guys watch it?”

“Of course there is video.  Arcane has cameras all over that place.  Chris thought both fights were, as you might say… teachable moments.  But don’t evade the question.”

“What question? Did you ever actually ask a question?” I asked.

“About your temper?  How do you handle it?  I checked the news sites from yesterday—there were no crazy traffic explosions or cars flying while you were driving in, but New York drivers would make anyone crazy.”

“Oh.  Yeah. I’ve never been in a big city before.  People here are nuts.  Mostly I try to think about consequences,” I said, taking another bite of roast beef and roll.

“Consequences?”  she asked.

“My aunt talked to me about the consequences of my actions when I was a kid… a lot. All the time, in fact. Maybe I spell a car to stall because the driver pissed me off and then the driver is late to work one too many times and gets fired.  Then his family loses their home… kids grow up homeless.  Or I give another bully a little mental shove, but it’s more than I thought and he falls in front of a car or something.  Things like that.  It was really hard yesterday, though,” I said.

“Because city drivers are a-holes?” she asked.

“That… and because there’s so much power here.  It almost made me drunk.  I wanted to try stuff out and Sorrow kept making suggestions.”

“Suggestions?”

“Blow up that truck—crush those cars—knock down those buildings—tear that bridge loose and drop it into the river.  That kind of thing,” I said.

She looked at me, her eyes focused, maybe a little surprised.  Before she could say anything, a group of additional interns came into the dining room.  The kid from MIT came in last, talking to a thin black guy and a woman a few years older than Stacia.

“Ah, our Chief Technology Officer is here,” Stacia said, cocking her head but not looking around or even taking her eyes off the strip of roast beef she was dropping into her mouth.  It was a good reminder that werewolf hearing is ridiculous.

She chewed a few times, swallowed, and then raised her arm, turning slightly.

“Hey Chet?  Got a moment?” she called.

All three turned our way, and then the thin guy, Chet, started over while the woman kept going with the pack of interns.  MIT stared appreciatively at Stacia till he noticed me, then he frowned and moved off with the others.

“Hey Bombshell.  ‘Sup?” Chet asked Stacia as he got closer, looking me over curiously.

“I wanted to introduce you to Declan.  He’s Chris’s intern, but you might want to borrow him from time to time,” she said.

His face lit with recognition at my name, a brief flare of wariness, which was rapidly replaced by curiosity.

“The literal computer wizard.  I’ve been told a lot about you,” he said, shaking my hand.  “Of course, I’ll reserve judgment till I see you in action.”

“Hear that?  He’s calling you out, D.  Show him something,” Stacia prodded, smiling.

I looked from her to him, then made up my mind.  “Can I see your cell phone?” I asked, holding out one hand.

He frowned, obviously reluctant, but then again, he started it.  Reaching into the rear pocket of his slightly baggy jeans, he pulled out a new model Android phone, glowering at me as he put it into my hand.  It had a protective case, which I popped off.  Pulling a Sharpie from my bag, I wrote runes inside the case, concentrating on the building’s power as I did, channeling some of it into my design.

Then I put the phone back into the case, started to hold it out to him, but suddenly threw it down hard on the polished floor.  The phone banged and smashed, bouncing off the hard tile high enough that Stacia was able to snag it out of mid-air.  She looked at it, ready to wince, but instead becoming slightly amazed.  Finally, she handed it to Chet, immediately pulling her own phone out of her pocket.

“Mine next,” she directed, even as Chet looked his baby over for any damage.  I got to work on hers while Chet considered what he’d just seen and the fact that his phone was still pristine.

“How protected is it?” he asked.  I held out my hand again, telekinetically pulling it from his palm.  Holding it in my left, I pushed an arc of electricity from my other hand, shoving it right down onto the phone.  The blue snapping tendril jumped all around the outside edges of the phone, but refused to touch it directly.

“It’s pretty safe from most trauma, except, ironically, water.  Fire, electricity, and hard impacts—no problem.  Looks like you picked a water resistant model anyway.”

He studied it at length, silent while he considered.  Finally, just as I was putting Stacia’s case back on her phone, he spoke up.  “I want him to do this to the mainframe and the special project room first thing.”

“Chris already put those first on the list for today,” she said with a smile.

“Right after I set some on the broken elevator,” I said.  They both looked surprised.  “It’s gonna take a couple of days to get back to normal, so I should get it started now.  I broke it; I gotta fix it.”

“Where did you find him again?” Chet asked, a slight smile on his face.

“In a hole in the ground… in New Hampshire.  Chris said we could keep him if we promised to take care of him,” Stacia replied.

“Yeah, well, I need lots of treats,” I said, finishing Stacia’s phone.  It too bounced off the floor, only I needed a little telekinetic help to snag it. “Keep it dry,” I said, handing it over.

“Why not water?” Chet asked.

“I have no affinity for it.  Fire, earth—you bet.  Water—nothing,” I said.

“Amazing,” Chet said, wheels turning in his head.  “And obviously electricity?”

“Sort of a middle ground between fire and earth.  My aunt says my strength is likely why I can talk to machines.”

“Talk to machines?” he repeated.

I felt myself frown.  “Not truly what I do, but I pick up code and some part of my mind has learned to interpret it, whether it’s a car computer, a smartphone, or a mainframe.”

“That would be the superpower I would choose,” he said, a little wistful.

“I would pick flying,” Stacia said.

“You already have super powers,” Chet retorted.

“Yeah, to cloud men’s minds,” I muttered into my glass of water.  She snapped around, frowning.

“You’re super beautiful.  That’s what Chet was talking about,” I said by way of explanation.

“I actually meant her werewolf capabilities,” he said with a slow grin.

“Oh, well yeah, you got those too,” I said, feeling my face go red.

Chet laughed and Stacia just smiled a little.  “We’ll talk later, Declan.  I’ve got fussy geniuses to corral,” he said, getting up.

“I’ll bring our little charmer up as soon as he’s voodooed the elevator,” Stacia told him, still smiling at me.

Face burning, I concentrated on my food.  It was going to be a long summer.

Chapter 7 – Chris

Darion’s wide shoulders blocked most of my view of the room, but Grim had already scanned it, using the rest of my senses, and come up clear.  Still, I was usually the first one into a room.  But in this case, letting my attorney go first was a smarter move.

The place was a dump.  A seedy little motel in the Bronx that looked like it hadn’t been updated in decades.  That was good.  We needed a place with few modern conveniences.  The less technology the better.

The first person I saw was a guy in a rumpled suit that I didn’t know.  His haircut, body language, and direct gaze all screamed cop.  The bulge under his left arm reinforced the image.

The second guy, also wearing a suit, I knew.  Larry DaltonLieutenant Larry Dalton, NYPD.  Commissioner Rielly’s aide.

“Gentlemen,” Darion greeted them.  Dalton nodded at him, but the other guy just glanced at my attorney before turning to watch me. “You two leave all your electronics outside?”

“Cornell, Gordon,” Dalton said, looking tired. “Yeah, we did and why?”

I just walked over to the old room phone and, after establishing it indeed worked, I unplugged it from the wall jack.   Then I glanced from him to the other guy.

“This is Detective Ballini,” he introduced his companion. “So, Gordon, whatcha got for us?” Which was Daltonese for go ahead and speak in front of him.

“Any complaints of a bit of a commotion a couple of blocks north of our building last night?” I asked, silently sending a pulse of aura around the room to knock out any devices that might be still around.

“Seems there was something to that effect.  Let’s see, people talking about shots fired, flying objects that might have been drones, and did I mention shots fired?” Larry asked.

“Yeah, about that… what did your first responders find?”

He looked at me evenly for a moment, obviously weighing how he wanted to play it.  Finally he snorted.  “They found a swarm of feds locking down the neighborhood, black vans and black suits everywhere.  They couldn’t get in for forty minutes or so.  When they did, they didn’t find a goddamned thing,” he said, then grimaced.  “Sorry about the language.”

“Your damned language doesn’t bother me,” I said, managing to surprise him.

“Really? What with all the… you know?” he asked.

“Lieutenant Dalton, my client’s Heavenly origins aside, I think we were talking about evidence, or a lack thereof?” Darion asked.

“Oh right.  Anyway, the place was sterilized.  They did find a couple of shell casings that the feds missed, but just a few.  Nine mil and some five-five-six.  Residents wouldn’t say much, acted like someone put the fear of Uncle Sam into them.  That close to the Tower, we figured you for whatever happened.”

“Drones is an understatement,” I said.

“Not that my client is admitting anything,” Darion said.

“Naturally, counselor.  Naturally.  Drones?  Like the feds are using drones now instead of Tomahawks?” Dalton asked.

“I think they lost control of their drones just like I think they lost control of that Tomahawk,” I said.  “Which is why we asked you to leave the tech toys behind for today’s meet.  I fried anything else you might have forgotten about, by the way.  The thing we’re facing uses anything electronic at will.”

“Thing?  What kinda thing you talking about?” Larry asked.

I handed him a typed page, created on a real typewriter, that outlined what we knew about Anvil.  “Don’t read that out loud.  Don’t say the name out loud.  Don’t put it anywhere a camera might see it.  It can take over anything connected to the Internet.  Smartphones, tablets, computers, Internet of Things.  If you went to Home Depot and installed a smart thermostat in your house that you can check from your phone… well, this thing can freeze your pipes come winter.”

“Is this why you and Miss Demidova keep appearing on the OFAC SDN list every goddamned day?” Larry asked.

“Yes, we believe so.  It’s also attacked our business and financial resources.”

“How do you fight a thing like this? Especially when it goes all Skynet on you?” Larry asked.

“Aside from the best computer brains money can buy, we also have an ace.  A way to use the supernatural world against it,” I said.

Larry snorted.  “Of course you do.  Hey Ballini—look at my surprised face.  Gordon’s got a hold card.  Shocking.”

“Well, I just wanted to keep you and the commissioner informed.  The feds and I don’t get along.  But you guys have been good with Tanya and me, so I thought you should be aware of this thing.  Just stay away from it and it should leave you alone.  It seems to only attack people it deems a threat to the country,” I said.

“But you friggin’ saved the President, for Christ’s sake,” Bellini suddenly interjected.  Larry gave him a look and he shrugged, not all that abashed.

“As you know, my client has been linked from time to time with the asteroid impact in New Hampshire, without concrete evidence, I might add.  We feel that… association could be enough for this guardian software,” Darion said.

Both officers smirked.  “Linked—hear that, Bellini?  He’s linked to the possibility of an asteroid strike.  Like anyone else could do it,” Lieutenant Dalton said.  “Just like the whole world knows to stay the hell away from a certain little girl, currently living in upstate Vermont.”

“No evidence, Lieutenant. No evidence,” Darion said.

“Okay, well I’ll take this back to the commish. Thanks for the explanation of recent events.  Good to know we’re being invaded by the damned Terminator.  Just try and keep the collateral damage to a minimum, huh Gordon?  Don’t need Wall Street collapsing because of bankrupt insurance companies, do we?  Or do you fall under the Acts of God clause?” Larry said.

“That’s being contested,” Darion said, tugging on his white dress shirt cuffs.

I laughed and turned to the door, opening it just in time to see a vehicle, a blue van, barreling straight at the doorway and the four of us.

Grim took over, analyzing and discarding options at lightning speed.  I could just run, removing myself from the path of the van, but that would leave the others to die.

Grabbing all three men and taking them with me was out.  Their combined weight was well within my capabilities, but there was no way my arms could reach around all three, and the violence of the action would might harm them just as much as the van.

So option three it was.  I moved, accelerating diagonally to a telephone pole twenty feet away, but only about ten feet from the path the van was speeding along.

Posting myself to the side of the pole, I crouched my body straight out, parallel to the ground, waiting the split second till the van’s front right fender was even with me, then I jumped, pushing with both my body and vamp energy.

My impact, helped along by a line of vampire power that ran back to the telephone pole, was enough to overcome the van’s inertia and change its vector for the last eighteen feet, so that the impact, when it came, was five feet to the side of the doorway.  It was also enough to crack the telephone pole right at the spot where my feet had been.

The van smashed through the motel wall and into the room we had just occupied.  Grim hurdled over the top of the still-settling van, arriving at the driver’s door.  The door tore like paper, but there was no driver to assault.  Instead, the entire driver’s compartment was filled with the stuff of automation.  The van was a self-driving version. I looked at the crumpled door, just able to make out Goog, the last two letters folded into bent and twisted metal.

The shifter suddenly jammed back into reverse and the still-running motor revved.  Grim’s instant response was to tear out the pistons, servos, and motors, basically everything that was running it, which killed the whole thing in a shower of sparks and smoke before it could get enough traction to pull out of the wall.

The other three were just coming out of the door, eyes wide with shock, when I hopped back over the van to their side.

“Jesus, Gordon, stop doing that.  It freaks me out,” said an already freaked out Dalton.  Bellini was silent and wide-eyed. Darion was trying to stay cool, but he looked a little pissed.

“If it’s any consolation, I think it was just aimed at me,” I said.

“Not much.  Not real happy with being collateral damage, Chris,” Darion said.

“Yeah, well, it seems to operate on a good of the many outweigh the good of a few philosophy,” I said.

The telephone pole chose that moment to fall over onto the van in a flash of electricity and sparks.

Larry Dalton sighed.  “Why don’t you and your attorney toddle off and we’ll call this in?”

We moved off, headed for Darion’s Mercedes, Grim on high alert.

“So you really got something to fight this thing, or was that all bullshit?” Darion asked, glancing over his shoulder at the disaster behind us.

“Not something—someone,” I said.

“Someone?  A person who can fight a computer?  What, like some super blackhat hacker?”

“Some would say his ancestors wore black hats, but he favors ball caps.”

Darion grunted, eyes narrowed in frustration.  “What do you mean by black hats? You mean like black top hats or bowlers or those fruity beret things?”

“Think cone shaped and pointy.”

The light of understanding dawned on his face. “Like black cats and broomsticks?”

“Yeah, although he likes vintage Toyota Land Cruisers.”

“No cats?” he asked.

“They don’t let you keep pets in the dorms,” I answered.

“Shit, how old is this asset?”

“He’s not legal to drink yet.”

“And he’s going to shut down Eagle Eye for you?”

I frowned.

“You know, Shia Labeouf,  Billy Bob Thorton, Michelle Monaghan?” he asked.

“Oh?  Yeah, I remember that one.  Not sure what can shut it down, but he’s already shutting it out,” I said.  “Probably working on that right now.”

Chapter 8 – Declan

I spent the afternoon warding the computer center, which took up the whole tenth floor.  Chet followed me around, watching warily as I applied runes with paint and an artist’s brush.  He started to object at the first application of the rune Yew to the back of a server rack.  I just looked at him and waited.  He was nervous and picky about everything involving the computers. It was obvious he was anal about his domain, which is a good trait in a Chief Technology Officer.  But when his internal dialogue dragged on too long, I told him I’d be down checking the spell I’d put on the elevator. Quickly, he snapped to.  “No, go ahead and do your thing.  It just freaks me out to see paint on my hardware.”

We kept moving about the floor.  The back half was a sealed section and I could only ward the walls and armored door, as Chet just shook his head when I asked if they needed the inside done.  A basket stood on a stand near the door.  A sign above it said ‘Deposit all electronics here.  No cell phones, tablets, cameras, watches, wearable or personal technology past this point.”

Technicians and programmers were openly curious about the symbols I painted on their stations and monitors.  More than a couple objected, even in the face of Chet’s permission.  Openly dubious until I finished a string of runes and linked them to the building and the electrical lines, the sharp snap of arcing electricity jumping from the nearest outlet to my hand shut them up.  When I motioned for one geek to step away from his monitor and then proceeded to test it with ball lightning with no apparent effect, well, let’s just say I got some cooperation.

“How will we protect our remote computers at our satellite offices around the world?” Chet asked Tanya when she appeared to check up on my progress.

I jumped in with a question before she could answer.  “Are they all as large as this one?”

“No, but they’re not real small either.  Why, Declan?  What are you thinking?” she asked.

“If you can have some representative elements from both the computers and their buildings shipped here, I could ward them, we could ship them back, and they could be hand-placed around the centers,” I said.

“What kind of elements, Declan?” Tanya asked.

“Leftover bricks or tiles from the same batch as used in the building, spare server blades, a few ceiling tiles maybe, some spare keyboards, stuff like that.  I’d also need a blueprint of the building and a map of the layout of each computer center.”

“This would work?  Truly?” she asked.  Chet looked like he was having gas cramps.

“Yeah, particularly if they just remove some of the existing tiles, both ceiling and floor, unplug a few spare stations and stuff.  That way, after I ward them and create an install map, they could plug it all back in and it should link up.”

Chet popped.  “You could have warded my computers without having to put paint directly on them?” he asked, teeth clenched.

“I can ward anything—how well it works is another matter.  This center, the heart of everything you do, well yeah, I could have done a sloppy job on it and you could have taken your chances.”

“Sloppy?  What do you call the goddamned graffiti you tagged my damn systems with?” he sputtered.

“I call it a linked array, double-grounded spherical containment ward.  The far away wards, the ones I would put on the tiles and such, I call sympathetic coordinated relation wards.  The first is much stronger than the second, but the second ain’t shabby,” I said.

He looked at me for a second while Tanya just smiled in amusement.  “You just made that up,” he said.

“I made it up a long time ago.  Just words to describe effects.  I had no one else to talk to about it.  Aunt Ash doesn’t do tech stuff.”

“So the painting you did here is superior?” he asked.

“Think of the difference between a bank vault and an office safe.  Both tough and secure, but to vastly different degrees,” I said. “This graffiti as you call it, is hand applied by the witch in question and each group of protective runes is linked to the building itself and the electrical grid, then all of the ward groups end up linked to each other.  The ones on the elevators, the reception desk, this floor, and, as I do them, all the other floors.  That’s the linked array part.  Individual pieces each strong, but stronger when linked,” I said.

“And it will keep Anvil at bay?” Chet asked.

“It should keep it out, based on how it reacted to the wards on my phone and my skin.  But it will also keep the building from ever catching fire, would probably survive an earthquake, and flying objects will miss it.”

“Whoa there cowboy.  Flying objects?  Like planes?” he asked.

“Yeah, like planes or missiles.  At least once I’ve got most of the building done.  But the sympathetic related wards should also keep Anvil out of the remote centers and will protect against fire, but the building is on its own.  How many do you have, by the way?” I asked.

“London, Hong Kong, Japan, Beijing, Hamburg, Dublin, and Prague.  Those are the main ones,” Tanya said, smiling when she saw my expression.

“Your arrival was absolutely fortuitous Declan.  And it seems overwhelming, but let’s just chunk it down.  Take it bit by bit.  Keep working here, then let’s move to the medical research floors on four and five.  After that, we could tackle the call center and the business center.  Chet, please order the plans and blueprints for Declan, along with photos of the rooms themselves.  Once we get those, maybe you could pick which tiles or pieces you want?” she asked me.

“That would work.  We’ll make a map of each room, have the techs at each location number and pull each part, and then ship it.  When it goes back, I’ll include instructions on the order of reinstallation,” I said.

“Actually, we’ll have you on a conference call with each center to oversee the installations remotely,” Tanya corrected.

“Unless Anvil interferes with the communications.  I can’t do anything for satellites it attacks,” I said.

“Satellites?  Damn, I forgot about our comm sats,” Chet said.

From the frown on her face, so had Tanya.  She focused on me with unnerving blue eyes.  Despite myself, I felt nervous under so direct a gaze.

“Declan, please think about those satellites.  Is there anything at all?” she asked.

“I can’t see how to get any runes or wards up there.  I mean, you can only send programming signals, right? So its not like I can make a rune in computer code…” I trailed off, thinking.

“What?  What is it?” she asked.

“He’s got that eureka moment expression,” Chet said. “I think he’s realizing that runes could easily convert to binary.”

“Converting to binary isn’t the issue. They’re just letters. You could run around and paint all these runes on the floors, ceilings, walls, and computers and it would be just archaic-looking graffiti.  It takes a witch to imbue them with power or magic.  I’m just trying to think if digital flows could be magicked.”

“So that would help protect our satellites?” Tanya asked.

“In theory, and I could do the same with all the computer systems, even the remote ones. Possibly get them protected from Anvil tonight.  Need to get some programs written, then convert them to runes, the runes to binary and somehow add magic.”

Is like lightning, ya?  Sorrow suddenly asked.

“Ya,” I said out loud.  Chet and Tanya looked at me, then each other, then me again.

“Sorry, talking with Sorrow.  He had a suggestion,” I said, thinking about how I used magic to direct electricity in general and lightning in particular.

“He?” Chet asked.  “Who is Sorrow?”

“Sorrow is a semi-sentient magical book, a grimoire, that lives inside Declan,” Tanya explained.

“It has a distinctly male voice… with a German accent,” I said.

“Semi-sentient?” Chet asked.

Semi? Sorrow scoffed.

“Hold on, I’m trying to think this through.  Sorrow reminded me that I use magic to direct electricity, sometimes over distance, like when I’m working with lightning,” I said.

“Lightning?” Chet asked.

“There may be parallels, yes?” Tanya asked, eyes alight with speculation.

“Yeah, I think there are.  I’ve got to try some experiments first.  Then I’ll have to write the programs and figure the runes into binary,” I said.

“Wrong.  I don’t know half of what you’re muttering about with talking books and lightning, but I’ll grab some of my interns and we’ll write both the programs and, if you give us the rune alphabet, convert them to binary.  Then you can do the actual programming and do your Sabrina bit,” Chet said.

“Sabrina?” I asked.

“Never mind, you two. Let’s get this going,” Tanya said.  Chet turned and headed into the comp center and toward the programming rooms, where apparently he kept his staff of kid wonders.

“What do you need?” Tanya asked.

“Well, I want to try it on a smaller computer first.  So I just need a notebook or a standalone desktop.  Actually, I could use my own.”

“No.  Your own computer may already be half-magicked.  Let’s use mine,” she said, grabbing my hand and leading me toward the elevators.

“Oh good, first full day on the job and I get to screw up the boss’s computer,” I said.

She turned and flashed me a knee-melting grin.  “Don’t worry.  It’s replaceable.  One of a kind, but replaceable… mostly.”

That actually would have made me more nervous, but her smile distracted me. Honestly, how did Chris get any work done with all these beautiful women around?  Most of who were in love with him.

Chapter 9- Chris

When we got back to the Tower, we found them in Tanya’s office on the top floor.  Chet was leaning over Declan’s shoulder, both looking at a notebook computer at Tanya’s desk.

Three of Chet’s interns were working at the coffee table in the sitting area.  The cute Australian brunette, a clean-cut, intelligent looking guy, and an Asian girl were working on something that involved several computers, a tablet, a mass of notebook paper, and various empty Red Bull containers.  Tanya was leaning against one window frame, talking on her cell phone.  She gave me a wave as Darion and I entered.

The interns all looked up, but Chet and Declan ignored us, deep into whatever they were conferring on.

“Looks like our law offices during a big case,” Darion remarked.

Both Chet and Declan looked up at the sound of Darion’s voice.

I started introductions with Chet and Declan.  Chet took over with the interns I didn’t know.

“This is Grace, who comes to us highly recommended from the University of Melbourne.  Simon, starting his first year of grad work at MIT, and last but not least, Daiyu, from Peking University,” Chet said, then pointed our way. “This is Chris Gordon and our corporate legal counsel, Darion Cornell.”

“I already met Grace last night during more exciting circumstances,” I said, nodding at her.  “Simon and Daiyu, welcome to Demidova Corp,” I said, shaking their hands, then stepped over to see what mischief Chet and Declan were up to.

A glance at the computer screen showed that they were into what might be the notebook’s operating system, with line after line of undecipherable code.

“Whatcha doing?” I asked.

“Your boy here seems to think he can use his special talents right in programming code.  If he’s right, we might be able to save the satellites and remotely protect the foreign offices,” Chet said.

“How’s that work?” I asked, wondering why Declan had never thought of it before.

“I work with programs all the time, but I’ve always just worked in whatever language they were written in.  For this, I need to work with the runes. I use Anglo-Saxon runes.  So we’re converting a really stout security program to runes, then turning the runes into binary, then sending it to the sats,” Declan explained.  “Grace and Daiyu are writing a program to automatically rewrite existing programs into runic text.  Simon,” he said, snickering slightly, “ is building one to convert to binary.”

“How do you add your mojo?” I asked Declan as Darion finished shaking the students’ hands and moved over our way.

“That’s what we’re working on now.  He’s attempting to get the boss’s computer to turn off her desk lamp at certain times, by itself,” Chet said.

“Big deal.  I can turn my house lights off from here with my phone,” Darion said, tone more curious than challenging.

“That’s because your house is wired to the Internet of Things.  It has controllers that are hooked into your wi-fi system.  That lamp over there is just a lamp.  No plug-in controllers or anything,” Declan said, typing as he spoke.  He finished with a tap on the enter key and then looked at his phone, which had a clock app up.

“Should go in four, three, two, one….” The light snapped off.  “Okay, it’ll come back on in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.”  Click.  The light came on.

“Wait, was that the switch actually turning?” Darion asked.  Chet was silent, staring at the light, face thoughtful.  Declan had a slight grin, like he was satisfied that it worked but that it didn’t count as a big deal.  The three interns looked surprised, although Simon’s frown looked suspicious.

Chet turned slowly to Declan, then turned to me.  He looked like someone had hit him in the face with a shovel.  “Do you have any idea what this means?”

“It means we can toss that NSA program out of our communications birds,” I said, nodding.

“No, that’s small potatoes,” he replied.  I could feel a frown form on my face.  Small potatoes?  This Anvil thing had been messing with us for weeks now and it was small potatoes?

“He just wrote a program that reached out into the physical world and actually effected change without wi-fi, Bluetooth, servos, or any physical connection whatsoever!”

“Oh.  I see,” I said.

“You don’t.  I doubt any of you do.  She will,” he said, nodding at Tanya, who was just hanging up her phone.

“I do.  You’re talking about the special project right?” Tanya asked.  No doubt she’d heard our conversation from across the room.

“Exactly!  When can I have him?” Chet asked.

“Whoa there, hoss,” I said. “First we’re gonna get our systems protected.  Then we get a schedule for him. Then we talk about your project.”

Chet looked frustrated, but Tanya spoke up.  “No special project till we’re secure from Anvil.  And Chris is right… I want to get Declan into a training program.”

Declan groaned slightly, even as he turned the computer to show Chet whatever he’d been doing. Chet studied it for a second, then nodded.

“What training program?  We want training, too,” Simon protested.

“No you don’t.  You absolutely do not want this kind of training,” Declan said, starting to type again.

“It’s not management or business training, guys.  It has more to do with our other  line of work,” I said.  “If you get my meaning.”

Daiyu’s eyes got big as she put it together first.  She looked from me to Declan, who was concentrating on the laptop as if he could just ignore the concept of Tanya training.  Grace was next, a light of understanding dawning on her face.  Simon just frowned.

“Ya know?  The demons and such?” Grace prompted him.

“What?  Him?  Fight demons?  That’s crazy.  He’s not even in a top-tier school,” Simon said.

Declan didn’t even look up as he retorted. “Hey, it must be true… Simon says,” he said, almost with a straight face.  He must have been saving that one all night.  These two had already agreed to dislike each other, but one of them had no idea what he was messing with.

Tanya moved past me, her movement fluttering the papers on the little table as she stopped in front of the three interns.  It would have been to their eyes as if she’d just appeared.

“Do you know a great deal about demons, Darkkin, and werewolves, Simon?” she asked the shocked young computer expert.

He wisely shook his head no.

“How about witches and psychics?  Do you have deep insight into their world?”

“Nnnoo,” he managed to stutter.

“So perhaps you should withhold judgement about that which you know nothing, hmm?” she asked.  Really, it wasn’t at all menacing, but her intensity and the speed of her arrival had made her point more impactful. “Declan, maybe a small demonstration is in order.”

He looked reluctant, which surprised me.  A chance to put his rival in his place with authority.  Then I saw him glance sideways at Grace before flicking his eyes back to Tanya.  Ahh.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked. Tanya frowned, then looked at me as she picked up on our link.  He was afraid of making the girl afraid.

“How about making one of your small avatars,” she suggested, pointing to the cluster of potted plants in the corner by the window.

He looked at the plants, not really appearing to see them, seemingly focused internally.  Then he sighed, just a little, and held up one hand.

A clump of dirt flew across the room, slapping into his palm.  He held it up to eye level and studied it for a moment.  The dirt shook itself, then assembled into a small man shape.  Declan turned it this way and that, looking at it critically, then set it on the tabletop next to his computer.  The little dirt fellow marched to the edge and without hesitation jumped straight to the carpet below.

“No messes, please,” Tanya said.

“As if,” he said with a reproachful look in her direction.  He looked back at his dirt avatar, which was now marching across the room, headed for the interns, who were frozen like deer in a jacker’s spotlight.

Tanya kept a straight face till he looked away and then she shot me a grin.  She knew damn well no speck of dirt would dare fall off his creation, but she was testing his comfort level with her.

The dirt guy got to the interns and headed for Simon’s foot, but Simon yanked it away.  Soil man turned and headed for Daiyu’s foot, which stayed frozen along with the rest of her.  The little guy climbed her leg like a veteran lineman tackling a telephone pole.  In seconds, he was on her knee, giving her a jaunty salute before jumping to the coffee table.  There, he grabbed a pencil, which looked like the mother of all spears in his little hands, and turned it eraser down.  Putting it on the stack of papers, he pushed first one, then another off the stack, stopping on the third.  That one, he pushed in Grace’s direction before backing off and pointing from her to Declan with the pencil.

“Can you bring me that?  I’m ready to start coding this stuff,” he said.

She looked from him to the dirt guy to Tanya and finally me.  I smiled and nodded. I suppose it would have been harder to swallow before the Washington Battle, but in today’s world, well, now they worked for vampires.

“So, there you have it.  Your first introduction to the world of witchcraft.  You should be honored.  Your demonstrator is world-renowned for his abilities,” I said.

After a moment, Grace picked up the paper and hesitantly turned toward Declan, who was watching her reaction.  Her body language firmed up and she took it to him, setting it down where he could easily see it.

“Thanks.  I’m going to start writing this.  Chet, you want to check my work?” Declan asked. “I have to manually input it myself for this to work.  Which is going to take some time.”

Chet shook himself and moved around behind Declan as did Grace, both looking over his shoulder as he typed.

Simon was staring at the dirt man, fascinated in the same way people are fascinated by venomous snakes.  Suddenly, the frozen figure turned and cocked its featureless head at him, making him jump.

I glanced at Declan, met his eyes over the edge of the laptop and almost laughed out loud at his evil grin.

“So the kid wonder there can bring the fight to the digital level,” Darion said quietly by my side.  “What do we do about the other troubles that seem to be popping up?  Like the Church of the True?” he asked.

“We have more,” Tanya said, suddenly back on our side of the room.  To his credit, Darion didn’t even flinch.

“More?” I asked.

“That call I was on was from Plasma.  Seems they had a visit from some nice Russian gentlemen,” she said. “The Brotherhood wanted to pass along some information.”

“The Solntsevskaya Brotherhood?” Darion asked.

“Do you know another?  Anyway, it appears that they’ve been having their own computer problems, mostly related to their banking activities, missing money, seized money, that sort of thing.  And they’re not alone.  The other major organized syndicates around the City have all been having tech issues,” Tanya said.

“So why is that our trouble?” I asked.

“Because the evidence points to Demidova Corp as the instigator of these digital raids,” she said.

“But you didn’t, did you?” Darion asked.

“No. Our computer division has nothing to do with organized crime or banking, although we do some algorithmic trading in the markets. Quantitative stuff, but the rest is theoretical.  It’s a research unit,” she said.

“So it’s a set up… to sic the major crime gangs in the city on us.  Anvil’s work, no doubt,” I said.

“That’s genius.  Use one threat to eradicate another.  But why would the Brotherhood warn you?” Darion asked.

“Because they have known about us for far longer than most humans and they respect us.  We would not take their digital accounts if we were in conflict, and they know it,” Tanya said.

“No?” Darion asked.

“No.  We would take their lives and their blood, in the night.”

“Oh right,” he said in the tone of someone suddenly reminded of a nasty truth.

“Great. Now we need to make things right with all the gangs, too,” I said.  “On top of the Church of the True’s public opinion campaign against vampires.  Their knowledge about our operations is too detailed. Anvil must have fed it to them. This thing attacks on all fronts all at once.”

“With great effectiveness,” Tanya said with a hint of respect.

“So Boy Wonder over there is helping protect your computers, but what do you do about all the rest?” Darion asked.

“I asked him how he would take on Anvil and he said that he wouldn’t.  He said that most programs come at problems in a linear fashion. Logic trees and such.   That a program like Anvil, no matter how sophisticated, is defined by its mission design. I dropped the rock on the silo and it labeled me a threat to the country.  Declan said if we could understand its threat definitions, maybe we could see about changing how we’re classified.”

“So you don’t even get into a fight with the thing. You just remove yourself from its radar.  That’s a very Book of Five Rings type of approach.  How old is that kid?” Darion asked.

“Eighteen going on eighty,” Tanya said.  I raised my eyebrows at her assessment.

“What?  He spends too much time overthinking his situation and not enough time enjoying his youth,” she said.

“Who are you and what have you done with my vampire?” I asked Princess Super Serious.

“I don’t know.  I personally think it’s a good thing that the magic kid isn’t a flighty frat boy,” Darion said.  “Think what trouble he could cause.”

“Darion, you have no idea how true that is.  That kid who is currently more aware of the pretty girl looking over his shoulder than the magic program he’s writing into history is undoubtedly one of the most powerful witches ever born,” I said.

“And you’re sure he’s on our side?” Darion asked.

“Yes, but let’s keep him that way, shall we?” I asked.

“Good point.  Let’s hope Anvil doesn’t think of that,” Darion said, which earned him a sharp look from both Tanya and me.

“Heaven forbid,” Tanya said, watching the trio at the computer.  Chet appeared to be pointing out an error to Declan, and Grace was now leaning one hand on the back of Declan’s chair, fascinated.

“From the mouth of an angel,” Darion said to himself, very softly.

Chapter 10 – Declan

I got the first security program finished, and Chet hurried off to the computer center to transmit it to the satellite.  Simon went with him, leaving Daiyu and Grace to help me with the next programs.

The extra eyes helped too, as even though I’m thoroughly comfortable with runes, a computer program written in runic form is another beast altogether.  Their questions and double checks kept me straight.

“So… witchcraft?” Grace asked with a nervous glance at the chair and coffee table area where Chris, Tanya, and Darion all discussed some new serious matter.

“Think of it as energy manipulation at a quantum level if that helps,” I suggested.  “There seems to be a considerable amount of evidence to support that theory.  In fact, Chet was telling me that he’s conducted experiments on Chris’s powers himself.”

“So I can understand how a machine could possibly be built to interact with such things, but a human?” Grace asked.

“Electric eels generate and channel electricity naturally, biologically.  Why can’t a human brain have a potential to detect and influence other types of energy?” I asked back, trying to speak, code, and ignore her perfume.

“Do you handle electricity then, mate?” Grace asked.

“I do, but most other witches don’t.”

“Do we call you a bloody witch or a warlock?” she asked.

“I prefer to be called Declan, but if you feel you must, then go with witch.  A warlock isn’t just a male witch.”

“So yer not a warlock?” she asked.

“Actually I am, but I prefer witch.”

She looked puzzled, but Daiyu chose that moment to point out a mistake in my coding.

“So ‘ows the whole Bewitched thing work?” Grace asked.

“I’m not sure what you’re asking.  Basically, there are genes that some people have and most others don’t.  If you have them, then you may develop an affinity for an element of nature, like Earth, Water, Air, or Fire.  That affinity may allow you to sense or even manipulate the world around you without physical contact.  Most of these genes are spread randomly throughout the population, resulting in some individuals expressing talents that the world collectively refers to as psychic powers.  Telepathy, telekinesis, remote viewing, things like that.  But, eons ago, some groups of people with these genes formed societies and selected mates from these societies.  As time went on, the genes became concentrated and these families learned techniques for focusing and honing these abilities, each generation training the next.”

“And you come from such a family?” she asked.  Both girls had stopped looking at the screen to listen to my explanation, so I stopped typing as well.

“I do.  Every part of the world has people that you could call witches.  Mine happen to come from Ireland.”

“And you chant spells and make potions and the like?” she asked.

“Yes.  I brew a love potion that makes girls drop their boyfriends and only want me,” I said with a straight face.

“You whacker!  You’re having me on,” she said, smacking my shoulder.

“Yeah, I am.  I don’t do chants or potions.  Some do.  I mostly use runes, when I use anything.”

“Explain,” Daiyu said.  It sounded a lot like the way Tanya sometimes said it.

Both Grace and I looked at her in surprise.

“Runes, spells, and the like are just forms of mental accounting.  I grew up using magic, if you will, from a younger-than-normal age.  My teachers were pretty much top of the field and so I can do a lot of things just by thinking about it.  Like the elevator.  There was no time for chants or what-have-you.  I just reached out and did it.”

“What did ya do ‘xactly?” Grace asked.

“I converted some of the energy of the falling elevator into additional mass in the walls of the shaft.”

“But that’s…” Daiyu started but didn’t finish.

“Impossible?” I asked.

“I was going to say that’s what particle accelerators do,” she said.

“True.  Most of what I did was actually to use the kinetic energy of the falling elevator to retrieve additional mass from the surrounding area.  Not true conversion.”

“Could you?” Grace asked.

“Could I what?”

“Do a true conversion of energy to mass or mass to energy?” she asked.

“I don’t know.  Why?”

“Mass to energy is usually called fission or fusion,” Daiyu commented.

Grace just nodded.

“Oh.  You’re asking if I could create an atomic reaction?  I don’t know.  Probably not.  At least by myself.  Maybe with others or with a huge source of energy,” I said, going back to coding.

Fission? Fusion?  What are these?

I was sooo not going to tell the power-hungry sentient book about atomic power.

“Can you work with entangled particles?” Daiyu asked.  Grace sucked in a small breath.

“Possibly I already do.  I don’t know.  Why?” I glanced from girl to girl, both of who were exchanging glances.

“Many of the interns work on programing issues.  A number of us are part of another project,” Daiyu said.

“Is that Chet’s special project?” I asked, filling in another line of code, then immediately backing up and fixing an error.

“You know it?” Grace asked.

“No but Chet and Tanya mentioned it a moment ago.  Chet wants me to help with it, I guess.  Not sure why,” I said.  “But now I’m guessing it has something to do with quantum particles and entanglement.”   The answer popped up in my head, triggered by my own words.  “You’re working on a quantum computer?” I guessed.

Their silence was answer enough.  “And that would be a yes,” I said, finishing the last line of runic code.  The program the girls and Simon had made allowed me to type on the standard keyboard and have the result be written in runes.  A fairly simple substitution program.  The next layer of programs translated it into binary and then sent it to the other computers and the satellites.

“Okay, look those over.  If they look good, we’ll send them to Chet and he can transmit them.”

“They seem adequate,” Daiyu said.  Adequate?  They freaking rocked, but they were adequate.

“Whacko stuff, these runes,” Grace commented with a smile.

“You mean they’re crazy?” I asked.

“Cool, mate. They’re cool,” she said.

“Oh, got it,” I said.

“I’ve gotta watch my slang.  It just creeps in, see?”

“It’s nice to hear, but I don’t always know what you’re saying,” I said.

“Same here, mate. Same here,” she replied, flipping her hair behind one ear.

“Anyway, that’s done and off to Chet,” I said.  “Chris, Tanya, I think we just sent the last of it to Chet,” I called out.

“Great.  Thank you,” Tanya said.  “You guys have worked really hard.”

“Flat out like a lizard drinking,” I agreed.  Grace’s head whipped around and she stared at me in disbelief for a split second before smacking me on the arm.

“You nong,” she said.

“So I had a moment alone with Google,” I said with a shrug.  What was it with every female I knew smacking my arms?  Stacia or Tanya would probably break them if they started that behavior.

“Great.  Why don’t we head down to dinner?” Chris said, a gleam in his eyes.  The area behind Tanya’s desk suddenly uplifted into a black and tan ottoman-sized canine.  “See, ‘Sos agrees,” Chris said as the giant wolf shook himself awake and padded over.

Ten minutes later, we were all sitting in the dining room, looking at menus.

“Tomorrow, we’ll take you out to dinner somewhere, but for tonight, let’s stay near in case Chet needs something,” Chris said.  “Plus, Remy would never forgive me if he didn’t get a chance to feed you all.  Ah, speak of the devil.”

A slim man in chef whites approached the table with vampire grace and pale skin.  His face was smiling and the young waiter by his side looked completely human and completely comfortable carrying a pair of wooden platters.

Tanya, who was seated on Chris’s other side, made the introductions, starting with Daiyu, then Grace, then myself.

Remy shook each of the girls’ hands with genuine pleasure, then gripped my own in a firm shake.  He didn’t let go but peered closer.  “You are the one to take care of our little Toni?” he asked intensely.

“Yes, although she’s a really tough little girl,” I said.  He said something under his breath in French, smiled, shook my hand once more, and straightened up.

“This one I feed special.  Too thin, too thin,” he said, shaking his head but smiling.  “But to start, we have some cheeses.  Fromager D’Affinois, Beemster, and Black Mountain English cheddar, with fruit mostarda and farm honey.  Enjoy,” he said, moving around to greet Tanya and Chris a bit more privately.

“Toni?” Grace asked next to me, Daiyu leaning in to hear, apparently interested in the question as well.

“Chris and Tanya’s goddaughter,” I said.

“Didn’t he bomb part of the U.S. when she was kidnapped?” Grace asked.

“He dropped an asteroid on an underground base where she had been held.  He was really mad,” I said, shuddering a little as I remembered our first meeting.

“You were there?” Grace asked, eyes wider than seemed humanly possible.

“Yeah, we got Toni out of her cell before Chris and ‘Sos showed up and tore the place to pieces.”

“Who is we?” Daiyu asked.

“My ex-girlfriend and I.”

“Is she a bloody witch too?” Grace asked.

“No.  Genetically engineered soldier,” I said.

“You really do go to a different school, don’t you?” Grace asked.

“A very different one,” I said, saved from further explanation by Chet’s arrival.

“Success,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting next to Tanya.  A frowning Simon came along behind, followed by most of the rest of the interns.  Immediately the tables around us filled up, although Simon managed to grab the last open seat at ours, putting himself between Chet and Daiyu.  Grace’s friends, Aleesha and Jodi, sat at the table next to ours, their chairs directly behind Grace’s.

“It worked?” Chris asked.

“Yeah.  Couldn’t get it to run after transmission until I used runes to actually type the word run.  Took off as soon as I did that and cleared up the whole system.  Comm sats are ours again and most of the foreign offices have reported in, just waiting on a few stragglers,” Chet said, helping himself to a some cheese and a slice of baguette.

Aleesha pushed her chair backward, getting closer to Grace.  “I heard there was real magic involved,” she said, her eyes turning toward the door, where there was movement.  It was Darion, striding over to talk to Tanya and Chris.

“Was it that guy?” Aleesha asked.

“Was he what?” Grace asked.

“Was he the witch?” she asked, eyes wide and scared.

“No, that one is an attorney, I believe,” Daiyu interjected.  “He’s the witch,” she said, pointing at me.

Aleesha’s chair scraped loud enough to draw virtually everyone’s attention, which, I think, might have stopped her from freaking completely out.  Instead, she looked around with scared eyes and sort of froze up.  Grace leaned into her shoulder and whispered into her ear, Aleesha keeping her eyes on me the whole time.

“If it helps, I tend to agree with you—hanging out with witches is trouble.  I don’t go near them very often at school,” I said.

“That’s true, he doesn’t,” a voice added.  I turned to find Katrina standing right next to me, watching Aleesha with obvious fascination.  “Although he does seem to be often found in the company of a certain Irish witch and he hangs out with his aunt, who is a pretty big deal among witches, so maybe I’m wrong.”

“Hey Katrina, what’s happening?” I asked.

“I heard they were starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel for interns and had to come see for myself,” she said, not smiling as she turned her stare on me.  For Katrina, this was major league joking.

“Yeah, the company webpage has a list of officers.  Apparently they make anyone a VP,” I said.  “I figure a summer of this and I can get the key to the Exec washroom.”

“Oh, I think they’ll give it to you sooner… the last bathroom attendant retired.  You’re a shoo-in,” she said, slipping away to check in with her boss.

“She got the better of you with that one, mate,” Grace noted.

“Yeah, that’s okay.  She’s not usually that outgoing,” I said, looking over at Aleesha, who was still wide-eyed and frozen.

“So you hang out with an Irish witch? I thought your girlfriend was a soldier?” Grace asked.

“Ex.  Ex-girlfriend, and Caeco’s probably as much assassin as soldier.  Ryanne, on the other hand, is a friend and knows a lot about my relatives in Ireland.”

“She the reason your bloody killer is your ex?” Grace asked.

“Ah, well, not that I want to talk about it, but we’re exes because we’re both only eighteen and we each have too much going on,” I said.

“You have computers to bewitch and she has what?  People to kill?” Jodi interjected.

I bit into some cheddar with the fruity stuff on top and a dab of honey, letting the flavors overwhelm me before I answered.  “Only if the FBI is killing people this summer.   This is really good,” I said.

Chris leaned over.  “We’re going to an off-site meeting after dinner.  You’re coming along—as an observer—so you’ll want to get ready when you’re done eating,” he said to me.

“How do I dress?” I asked.

“You’ll find several sets of the security team’s uniform pants in your room.  Those would be a good idea,” he said, turning back to Tanya, Katrina, and Darion.

“What?  No bag of fruit?” Grace asked.  I frowned and she actually blushed.  “No suit, I mean.  You’re not wearing your suit?”

“No,” I said, sadness in my voice.  “It was ruined when I fixed the elevators to keep interns from falling out of the sky.”

“Oh you’re an arsey one, ain’t ya?” Grace said.

“It’s hard to answer when I don’t know what you’re asking,” I said, even though I had a pretty good idea.

“You’re a wiseass,” Aleesha said, momentarily forgetting she was supposed to be afraid of me.

“Oh,” I said.  “That’s true.  It pretty much defines me.”

“No. Dangerous wiseass defines you,” Katrina threw in on her way past us. “And that’s bloody fair dinkum.”

She left with casual grace and when I turned to look at the girls, they were all staring at me.  Grace looked thoughtful, Jodi confused, and Aleesha still scared, but slightly bemused.

Chapter 11 - Chris

The meet was in Brooklyn—Brighton Bay actually.  In a nightclub—a loud, fist-pumping, light-flashing, drunk-dancing nightclub. The night sky outside was cloudy and rain-filled; inside the building was a riotous storm of multicolored strobe lights and deep bass. With lots of Russian being spoken everywhere around me.  For the ten thousandth time, I wished I was bilingual, or better yet, trilingual.  Tanya speaks at least seven languages.  I struggle with one.

Nika, Arkady, Tanya, and Lydia all speak Russian fluently.  Stacia and Declan were pretty much in my boat, though.

The dark-eyed hostess had turned, looking for immediate assistance when we walked in, but her manager or boss or whatever was already striding across the floor of the club to meet us.  He spoke rapidly and respectfully to Tanya in Russian, then led us through the gyrating crowd to the back corner of the club.  The men seated in a circular lounge area came to attention at the sight of my vampire arriving before them, although the sight of giant Arkady standing to her left no doubt caught their attention as well.

Around us, I could feel men standing up from other booths—foot soldiers realizing a gigantic threat had suddenly appeared in their midst.  Then they noticed me.

It used to be that I could stay under the radar for these kinds of things, the world-class beauty by my side taking all the attention.  But the digital stream of last year’s events had forever ruined my ability to hide.

Now feet shuffled and bodies angled as they realigned their priorities.  Eyes locked onto me, expressions changing from the respectful yet confident way they had looked at Tanya to a strange combination of anxiety, fear, and, I’m uncomfortable to say, not a little awe.

“God’s Hammer has come among them—simultaneously an auspicious and dangerous moment for them,” Nika whispered into my ear.  “The awe is real, but these are not innocent men, and having God’s Warrior in their midst is… mildly terrifying for them.”

“They don’t know whether to shit or sing a hymn,” Lydia added.

“My uncle has a saying that he uses with his cop friends. I don’t think he knows I ever heard it.  They don’t know whether to fight, fuck, or go for their guns,” Stacia said.  She shrugged at the look that Lydia gave her.  “I heard lots of things I wasn’t supposed to.  Big ears.”

Declan, who had his poker face on, cracked a smile and raised an eyebrow.  “I gotta remember that one for a certain alpha asshole back at Arcane,” he said.

Tanya turned and gave us all a look of exasperation.  We settled down.  Our hosts looked on curiously.

“Sergei will take us before the Avtorityet—the local boss,” Tanya said. Sergei smiled at her, letting it slide across the other ladies, becoming a frown when it crossed Arkady and fading into blankness at myself.  Declan was ignored—the way I used to be.  Sergei turned and started walking to a door in the back wall, the foot soldiers all moving to create almost a corridor of muscle, all wearing their most surly expressions.  Grim was not impressed.  How long would they last if one pulled a gun or knife? There were seventeen of them. Grim’s estimate was six seconds, but that was on our own.  With Tanya in link… maybe three seconds.

“Seventeen.  My best is like thirty-eight at once,” Declan said to me quietly.

“What?” I asked.

“There are seventeen bodyguards.  I could handle them if it got real,” he said in a whisper.

I gave him a look.

“Oh, I know you could or probably anyone in the group could, too.  I was just letting you know that I wouldn’t be helpless or useless,” he said.

“Never thought you would be.  But what would you do?” I asked, curious.

“Burn out their brainstems.”

“In what order?” I asked.

“All at once.  That’s what I meant by thirty-eight.  I’ve lit thirty-eight candles at once.”

“Big difference between candles and brainstems,” Lydia chimed in quietly.

“No, not really.  The fatty deposits of the brain are highly flammable,” he said.

“How the hell do you know that?” Lydia asked.

“AP Bio.  Ah, and Sorrow says that brains burn like a torch at the right temperature,” he admitted.

“That’s not creepy or anything,” Lydia muttered.

“Yeah, try living with it in your head,” Declan said.

“So you’re claiming to have something in your head?” Lydia quipped.

“Lydia, we’ve talked about this several times before, but you are old and dementia can be a real problem among the elderly,” Declan replied smoothly.   The kid seemed to have found his way into Lydia’s crosshairs.

“Quiet, you two.  No talking when we meet the Avtorityet,” Tanya said to them, giving me a wink as she turned back around.

“Glad you’re war gaming, Declan, but let’s not pull any triggers yet, ‘kay?” I asked him.  Wouldn’t want one of the Bravta’s street soldiers flashing his gun our way out of bravado and having our intern burn the whole lot of them up from the inside out.  Grim noted that Declan’s approach would kill them all in just one second, beating our own best estimate quite handily.  I told Grim to shut up.

The rest of the short walk was in silence as we passed into a hallway, then into a large supply room stacked with boxes of liquor along with cases and kegs of beer. Grim stayed busy sensing and adjusting to threats along the way.

Along the back wall of the storage room was a small, well-lit office with several big men hovering around the doorway.  A medium-sized man with dark eyes and dark hair frosted slightly with grey at the temples stepped out, measuring us with his gaze.  He nodded at Tanya, focused on me for a moment, and then took in the rest of our party.  He looked back to Tanya and spoke in English.  “Miss Demidova, it is an honor to meet you in person,” he said with only a trace of accent.

“Mr. Polzin, I’ve heard much about you from your predecessor,” Tanya said.  He stilled, then nodded as if she’d scored a tiny little point.  Tanya had made it a priority to meet the Bratva leadership here in the city.  The previous Avtorityet for Brighton Beach had filled her in on his own men, pointing out which ones were likely to supplant him.  He didn’t seem to be around anymore.

“And I have stories of you—as well as watch many programs about your exploits,” he said, including me with a glance.

“Word has it that your organization has had losses that would seem to implicate our organization?” she asked.

“So it would seem,” he said, studying us before coming to some decision.  “Much of what we do now days is digital.  Computers and information to be traded.  Some of it has come up missing.”

Nika leaned in close to Tanya and whispered in her ear.  “Hacked credit card numbers have disappeared before they could be sold.  Money placed into the banking system to be laundered has vanished from controlled accounts.  The digital tracks point to us.”

Handy having a powerful telepath around.  Nika turned and winked at me.

“And you believe that we have set ourselves against you?” Tanya asked.

“There is evidence that would lead us to that conclusion,” Polzin said, then held up one hand before she could answer him.  “Normally, we would never think such a thing, knowing as we do of your… family’s preferred methods for dealing with enemies, but we know you have splintered away from your… Coven, is it?”

“Yes, because their ways are not our ways,” she said, pointing between herself and me.  “You know something of my Chosen?  You understand his origins as well as my own?  Does it strike you that we would choose those kind of actions?  And then come before you to discuss it?”

“Ah, a reference to being Fallen.  Somehow, that does not add to your credibility.  And you no doubt feel invulnerable—that we would not be able to match your abilities,” he said, his tone assured.

I decided to add my two cents.  “If you mean the explosives in the walls of this room, you’ll find them to be useless, as is the ammunition in the weapons your men carry.  The pressurized tanks of gas in your office—nerve agent, maybe?  Anyway, they’re now inert.  Oh, and I can feel all the little pieces of Depleted Uranium scattered about.  It’s not as effective as before.  I’ve learned ways to get around it,” I said.  “I smell a small fortune in silver.  Maybe some silver nitrate in the sprinkler system overhead?  You should probably call the installation company in the morning.  I think they will find all the spray heads ruined—almost as if they’ve been welded shut.”

Polzin studied me like I was an unpleasant piece of mail discovered in his mailbox.  Maybe a final power company notice or a tax audit invitation from the IRS.

Declan cleared his throat.  “Uhmm, Chris?” he asked.  I glanced his way to find him toeing the floor—or rather a set of thin, bright orange paint lines that encircled our position, disappearing under cases of booze and three kegs of Stella Artois.

“Whaddya got?” I asked.

“Someone warded this floor.  It’s suppose to act like a glue trap for mice, only this one seems to be set on vampires,” Declan said.

“Witchcraft?” I asked.

“Yeah, pretty good stuff, too.  Or at least it was,” he said, looking up at Tanya and me with a little smirk.  I raised one eyebrow and he nodded.  Whatever it was, it had just met its match in an eighteen-year-old kid wearing black combat pants and a Bastille t-shirt.

“You use witchcraft on us?” Tanya asked Polzin, her tone quiet and sounding incredibly dangerous to my ears.

Polzin cleared his throat, eyes locked on the deadly vampire in front of him.  “Merely precaution,” he said, accent thickening.

“Ah, precautions.  I like precautions. As a precaution, I brought my own warlock.  Maybe I should let him burn out this club.  Declan?” she called.

“Yes Tanya?” he answered, a three-foot tall column of flame sprouting up from his upturned palm.  The nearest guards stepped hurriedly back from the heat that I could feel ten feet away.  Didn’t appear to bother Declan, though.

“How fast could you burn this place?” she asked.

“To light it up?  Seconds.  To take it completely to the ground?  Twenty minutes or so.  Give or take.  The coming storm might slow that down by five or ten minutes,” Declan said.

“You accuse us of stealing what you’ve already stolen.  When we meet with you in good faith, you prepare death traps for us.  We did not take your data or money, Mr. Polzin, but I am leaning toward taking your lives.  You have declared yourselves enemies, no?” Tanya said.

“Nyet!” he said.  “No, we are not enemies.  The preparations you have noted are merely precautions like keeping a shotgun for home security.  The witchcraft your young friend has noted are for possible rogues and renegades, not your people,” he said smoothly, hands out, palms down in a calming gesture. “Old stuff, really.”

Tanya studied him for a moment, letting the tension mount.  Then she turned to my intern and nodded.  The flame disappeared from his palm, the instant reduction in heat almost shocking.

“The National Security Agency has a computer program.  It is extremely advanced, artificially intelligent, and hyper aggressive.  It has taken your property and pinned the blame on us in a strategic move designed to remove two threats to the country at once,” she explained.

“It defines you as threat to America?” Polzin asked.

“Some of us,” she replied with a glance in my direction.

“Ahh, asteroid.  Yet you saved President Garth from demons, no?” he asked me.

“Yes well, Garth is an asshole, so maybe the program doesn’t think I did the country any favors,” I said.

He laughed.  A real, honest laugh.  “Maybe you are right.  But what can this program do?”

There was a sharp ripping sound near the far door, which I presumed led outside.  The steel door crumpled inward and several somethings reared up over the two guards standing closest to it.  Both men disappeared in a spray of blood, just as the cinderblock wall behind us burst into concrete dust.

Grim was already moving us, sideways, straight through the opposite wall, those particular cinderblocks suffering a similar fate as my body blasted through them.  The rest of the team was right behind me, Stacia pushing Declan ahead of her through the newly made hole.  Behind us, I heard men yelling and dying, the attackers killing them with a snick-snick sound like hedge clippers on steroids.

We were in a back parking lot, probably for employees and Russian mafia types, and it was pouring sheets of rain, and it was a trap.

More of the enemy reared up, bodies revealed in a flash of lightning from the storm overhead.  Grim offered a detailed analysis of this new threat.  Each roughly eight or nine feet long, with a twelve-segment body and metallic mandibles on either end.  They were giant robotic centepedes, but the legs of each segment had blades that snickered open two feet to a side. The segments could rotate, in either direction, independent of each other.  Combat Cuisinarts, uniquely designed to kill at close range.  Grim noted silver, depleted uranium, and steel blades among the arsenal.  Designed to kill weres, vamps, and fallen angels.

Our personal link had shifted to combat mode and even as Grim pulled me closer to the nearest metal monster, I could feel Tanya draw her blades and follow.

The blackened hide of the first centipede was coated in depleted uranium, so I reached for my own sword rather than my Glocks.  It slid from the pocket universe where I kept it sheathed, its actinic glare lighting up the night.

DU might hinder my aura, but it is not a good defense against an angelic blade.  The first spinning set of choppers was shorn completely off, sharp metal pinging off into the dark. Cross cut, reverse to horizontal, and a powerful overhead slice reduced the robot to pieces.  Yet most of the pieces still moved, each trying to attack.

Tanya had chosen to slice the legs from her attacker, the tough tungsten carbide sword blades chopping through the steel of her centipede’s leg blades. Cuts to both ends removed the sharpened mandibles, leaving a heavy un-armed body that still tried to crush her under its weight.

Her blades flickered and the body fell to pieces. Gunfire behind me, the mental image of the battlefield that Grim produces showing me Lydia and Nika blasting at the robotic horrors with handguns, to little effect.  Arkady was using carbide swords and trimming legs like his queen.

I, or rather Grim, was hacking our sixth centipede when I heard Stacia’s cry.  She had shifted to wolf-woman form and had been pounding on a centipede with a white and black Vespa.  It looked like maybe a second centipede had caught her off guard. Now she was standing back ten feet, holding one massive white furred arm that was rapidly reddening with her blood.  The bot that had sliced her with a silver-bladed leg scuttled forward to complete its attack. I was too far away, but Grim readied a newly chopped DU blade as a spear. Before Grim could launch it, Declan, who stood nearby, shook himself as if he had been dazed or distracted and stepped between us and the robot.  He looked at Stacia, bleeding and backing away from the robot. Then—well, then I think the kid lost his temper.

One hand made a grasping motion at the robot and despite the eight-foot distance that separated him from the metal monster and regardless of the fact that it outweighed the boy by three hundred pounds, it flew through the air, away from Stacia.

Then it stopped, hovering in mid-air, writhing and twisting to get free from the invisible hand that held it.  Declan made a short, stabbing motion with his right hand, a blinding bolt of light flashing out and blasting the centipede into molten metal that sprayed the metallic army arrayed against us.

The spray of plasma-hot metal melted right into the armor of the approaching centipedes, steam instantly rising in foggy clouds as rain attempted to cool it.

Declan looked up at the sky, and his face held nothing but rage.  He raised his right arm to the storm and jerked it down to point at the forward line of fast-scuttling centipedes, his fingers spread apart.

Eye-searing bolts slammed into the earth all around us, shaking the ground, blasting superheated air and water, and sound—air-being-slammed-out-of-your-lungs sound.  The lightning branched, three tmes, four times for each bolt, and then branching again, pounding the fabric of existence.

Our entire team was crouched in place, instinctively presenting low profiles to the storm’s electric fury, except Declan, who stood, still pointing at the enemy.  Bits of metal spattered around us, most steaming in the puddles, some hitting hard enough to bruise a normal human.

Nine bolts in all, as best Grim could count, each bolt branching multiple times, rolling concussions running into each other.  Then it stopped, the brutal, eye-searing blasts and thunder fading into the still-sheeting rain.

The parking lot was World War Three, blasted cars, cratered asphalt, and shattered broken centipedes everywhere. In the distance, my sensitive ears could hear the few surviving mechanical centipedes scuttling away.

Kneeling in front of it all was a rain-soaked Declan.  He looked exhausted, arms hanging down, head bowed. I was shocked he was still alive. Even Grim was thoroughly impressed with the mayhem, destruction, and carnage the eighteen-year-old had just wrought in mere seconds.

Lydia looked my way with eyes wide and mouthed the word “Wow.”  Stacia, now human and unabashedly naked, still clutched her left forearm, but her eyes were locked on Declan.

“Arkady, give the wolf girl your jacket, please.  Nika, Lydia, come with me and look for any active robots,” Tanya said, then looked from me to Declan in a meaningful way.  I put my Sword away as I approach the young warlock who had just reduced an army of the most advanced robots I’d ever heard of to melted metal and broken circuits.

“You alright?” I asked him.

He looked up at me and I almost flinched from the loathing I saw there. His eyes flicked away and I realized the anger was directed at himself.

“Is she alive?” he asked, body rigid, not turning to look behind him.

“I don’t know.  Are you alive?” I asked Stacia who, now covered in a voluminous jacket, was approaching carefully through the debris-strewn puddles.

“Yeah, thanks to Kid Wonder here.  Still bleeding like a stuck pig, though.  You think maybe you could dribble some magic blood on it or something?” she asked, holding out her bloody arm.

Declan turned, slowly, as if afraid of what he might find.  Stacia watched him, even as she held her arm out in my direction.  It was sliced deep, the white of bone briefly visible when rain washed enough blood out of the way, and he flinched when he looked at it.  I held up my right palm to her and she took the hint, shifting her right index finger enough to form a three-inch, razor-sharp claw.  The resulting slice was so clean and quick that I didn’t even feel it.

Quickly, I dripped my own blood into the wound on her left arm, smearing it in before my wound stopped bleeding and sealed itself shut.

Declan watched the silver-burned wound on her arm stop bleeding and then heal into a faint red line.  When her unbroken skin was washed clean by the still-pouring rain, he took a deep breath and turned to help the others.  I started to follow but Stacia grabbed my arm, shaking her head.

Tanya and the others were poking among the wreckage, and Nika raised her head to watch Declan, her expression one of concentration.  She beckoned me over.

“He thinks he froze up.  He’s blaming himself for Stacia’s injury.  That’s why his response was so… explosive.”

“Did he?  Freeze up?” Tanya asked.

“I don’t know, but my impression is that he was distracted by the program running these robots… and maybe a bit by the storm itself.”

“The storm?”  Tanya asked.

“He feels energy and power all around.  He told me the city itself was distracting because of the raw energy of movement that millions of people generate.  He also kept mentioning the storm even in the car ride over here.  He could feel it from miles away,” Stacia said.

“Regardless, he is intensely angry with himself.  Particularly for failing you, Stacia,” Nika said, her expression and tone conveying something to the wolf girl that I was missing.

“What aren’t you saying?” I asked.

“That Stacia’s opinion is of singular importance to him,” Nika said.

“Oh.  He’s got a crush on you,” I said, turning to Stacia.  She didn’t grimace or flinch, just took the words along with a deep breath.  Then she gave a short, sharp nod and turned to walk to Declan, who was helping Lydia shift through the rubble.

“Is he a danger?” Tanya asked Nika.

“He hasn’t shut me out, he’s functioning well, and he’s exhausted,” she said, shaking her head.  “He’s questioning his value to the team, though.”

Arkady snorted.  “We were losing,” he said, looking at his left hand. It only had three fingers.  His left index finger was gone, sliced clean off his hand.  “I haven’t lost a limb or finger in two hundred years,” he muttered.

Grim felt that was correct—the part about the team losing.  Tanya and I were effective against the robots, Arkady slightly less so, but the guns that Nika and Lydia sported weren’t, and Stacia’s improvised weapon wasn’t fluid enough to deal with multiple threats.

“Shit!” Lydia yelled, jumping back twelve feet in a sudden blur.  A long, segmented body stirred in the debris, immediately followed by a second.  Declan stumbled forward and fell against them.  Grim expected him to be bisected instantly.

Instead, the movement stopped while the boy leaned on hands and knees, head down, unmoving.  Stacia, a length of pipe in her hands, approached him but stopped short of touching him.   A few long seconds later, he sighed and sat back on his heels, rain streaming down his face.

“It’s okay.  They’re safe,” he said.

“What do you mean safe?  They’re frigging buzzsaws,” Lydia said.

“I drove Anvil’s program out of them,” Declan said, tiredly pulling a Sharpie from his pocket.  Two black gleaming metallic heads, each sporting long, deadly mandibles, rose from the bricks, but they were pointed away from Declan, who was basically kneeling on the backs of both centipedes.  The heads froze in place and my intern calmly leaned forward and started to draw on them.

“We can study them,” he said, answering Stacia’s unspoken question when she kneeled down across from him, modestly holding Arkady’s jacket closed.

“Will they remain under your control, or will Anvil get them back?” Stacia asked, keeping her eyes locked on him.  He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m not going to lie.  It was a real fight to get them free, but the runes have been effective against it so far,” he said.  “At least I can do this much right.”

“Other than save my life and destroy the better part of an army we were ill-equipped to handle?” she asked him.

He shrugged and went on with his rune work.

“We need to leave—now,” Tanya said and there were no dissenting responses, especially in light of the sirens approaching in the distance.

Chapter 12- Declan

I was having trouble keeping my eyes open in the back of the big SUV on the way back to the tower.  Thing One and Thing Two were rolled into big black metallic beach ball-sized orbs in the luggage area behind me.  I could feel them in the back of my mind, sitting quiescent, waiting for orders.  Like I should be the one to give them.

“What was it like?” Nika suddenly asked me, turning in her seat in the middle row to look back at me.

“What?” I asked.

“The program, Anvil.  What was it like?  I could feel when you interacted with it,” she said.

“Well—massive.  Powerful.  Really fast.  And those were just leftover copies that were still in the pedes when the rest left,” I said.

“No, I mean at the beginning. When we first stepped outside?” Nika pressed.

“Oh.  You mean when I froze up,” I said, spotlighting the elephant in the car.

“Really?  You feel you froze up?” she asked, her voice politely disbelieving.

“What you would you call a complete lack of response to an overwhelming attack?” I asked back.

“In this case?  When I sensed you communicating with the program while monitoring the storm?  I’d call it tactical observation and perhaps even an attempt at negotiation.”

I snorted.  “Lipstick on a pig, Nika.  I froze up.  You all know it.”

Tanya spun around to look at me from the far front.  “Have you frozen before?  When you fought the revenants at Rowan West?  When you fought the witch in the parking lot?  When you fought a giant werewolf bully?  Or did you sense information from two different sources that none of the rest of us could?  Information important enough to distract you from the fight?  Because distraction isn’t good Declan, but it’s not at all the same thing as freezing in fear.  And did you snap out of it when your teammate was in dire straits?  Because that’s what good team member does.”

“What was that spell?  The one with the laser beam?” Stacia asked before I could respond to Tanya.

“Ignis Solis.  Sunfire,” I said.

“Effective,” Arkady commented.

“It’s dangerous.  I have to be careful with it,” I said.

“No shit.  You just about vaporized that thing,” Lydia said.

“He means it is dangerous to himself as well,” Nika said.  I sometimes forget she can literally hear my thoughts.

“Explain,” Tanya demanded, frowning at me.

“I almost always try to use power I find around me in my spells.  Save my own reservoir for emergencies.  Ingis Solis can only use a witch’s personal power, and it’s a huge draw on that well of energy.  A giant vacu-suck of power that could get away from you and leave you a magical husk.  So I have to use just little blasts of it.  It’s tricky,” I said.

“Why did you use it, then?” Tanya asked.

“It’s also very powerful.  I needed to make sure that centipede was down and out,” I said.

“You know what I think?  I think you got really mad that something hurt your friend and you obliterated the thing that did it,” Chris said from the shotgun spot in the front.

I wanted to come up with a counter argument, something about appropriate forceful responses to an attack or some such bullshit, but ultimately he was right.  “Point,” I said.

“Ahh.  So you maybe got angry and fought angry?” Tanya asked.

I already knew that you weren’t supposed to fight from anger, but I nodded.

“Anger is good—if it is harnessed and controlled.  Chris fights from rage, yet it is precise and focused.  Your response was overwhelming and decisive, but it exposed you to exhaustion, depletion of your abilities, and the potential to lose your weapon of choice—your magic.  Later today, we begin training.”

“Good.  I obviously need it,” I said, meaning it.

“Declan, your use of the storm and its power ended what might have been a bad battle for us.  You did well.  But if you are unhappy with your own responses, then we will train and train until your reactions are instinctive and reliable, as well as controlled.  Hard, focused anger can be a decisive weapon in battle,” Tanya said.

My thoughts were definitely angry, mostly at myself.  Behind me, both pedes shifted slightly, still in ball form.  I checked them and found them responding to my emotion.  I took a breath and stilled myself, and then them.  Beside me, Stacia had tensed up when the pedes shifted and I had a flash of insight.  They scared her. Quick, somebody mark a calendar… the teenager had a moment of empathy.

“Hey, I’ve already reprogrammed them.  They won’t ever attack anyone on the team.  In fact, they will take your commands and will fight for you,” I said to her.

“Maybe I want to fight for myself,” she said, and I had some more insight.  Go me.

“Oh.  Well, they were literally created to fight werewolves and vampires.  Designed from the ground up.  These two are versions nine-point-five.  Refined.  They have detailed attack programs for fighting beast form werewolves.  Not sure how they got those, but they’re there.  You, on the other hand, have never fought a giant robot centipede before and you pretty much mashed the first one with that scooter.”

“I should have done better,” she said.

“Me too,” I said.  “But if it helps, we can train against these two.  You can work out your own methods for combating them.”

“I want a piece of that, too,” Lydia piped up.  “My gun didn’t do squat.”

“I might be able to modify your ammo—rune up your bullets a bit,” I said.

“Is good use of robot bugs,” Arkady rumbled from the driver’s seat.

“You did well against them,” Stacia commented to me.  Obviously, I wasn’t the only one butt hurt about this.

“Yeah.  Because they were designed to fight vampires and weres… not witches. Anvil will likely seek to change that,” I said.

“How?” Tanya asked.

“Find someone to put counter spells on them.  Like magical armor,” I said.

“You think this program will allow for the existence of witches?” Chris asked.

“It allows for anything it has information on.  Since it can go almost anywhere in computers, especially government computers, it has all the info it needs to decide witches are a threat,” I said, Demidova Tower suddenly appearing before us as we came around a turn.

Arkady pulled us onto the down ramp to the underground parking, the guard rushing to activate the metal gate at the sight of us.

“You are likely correct, Declan.  This thing—this program—will adapt and change as it has before.  We must adapt and change to beat it.  We will all meet at seven tonight, in the gym.  Declan, bring your pets.  We have much work to do,” Tanya said.

It was a little past two in the morning.  I, for one, was going to try and get some sleep, after a hot shower.  Tanya sounded… motivated.  I needed her training… that was obvious, but it promised to be painful.

I slept the sleep of the dead for ten hours, getting up a little after noon.  I got a sub and soda to go from the dining room staff and marched out of the building into the sunlight, leaving Things One and Two in the lobby near the reception/guard desk.  The two guards on duty eyed my two rolling fun balls of death uncertainly but ultimately just made notes in their rune-covered computers and gave me a nod.

Outside, I found the city in full hustle mode, people streaming across busy streets and sidewalks.  The building next to the Tower had a series of benches in front of it, so I sat my ass down and started in on the cheese steak sub, watching people rush about in the warm sun.

A few guys with cameras seemed to hover near the entrance to the tower, most likely paparazzi looking for a quick shot of Chris or Stacia, as the vampires were no doubt asleep.  I was looking them all over when I realized someone was staring at me.

A familiar-looking Indian girl stood next to a disheveled photographer who was fumbling with his camera and tripod.  His attention was on his equipment, but hers was on me.  I made eye contact and then looked away quickly.  Aunt Ash said not to make eye contact with New Yorkers.  Too late. She was now headed my way.

“Hi there,” she said brightly when she was just ten feet away.

Politeness had been formally injected into my character from an early age by both mother and aunt.  Despite my reservations, I answered her back.

“Hi yourself.”

“You work in the Tower?  You’re one of the summer interns, right?” she asked.

I couldn’t stop the frown on my face.  She noted it and laughed lightly.  “Sorry, but it's kind of obvious.  You’re a college-age kid, dressed in casual clothes, carrying lunch out of Demidova Tower.  I’ve seen dozens of you over the last couple of days,” she said.

“What are you?  Some kind of stalker?  Hanging out in front of a business building for days on end?” I asked lightly.

She laughed again, a nice, clear laugh that made me smile despite my concerns.

“I’m Brystol Chatterjee,” she said, holding out a small hand.  “I’m a reporter. Stalker works pretty well too.”

“Oh, no wonder you look familiar.  I’ve seen your interviews with Chris and Tan… er… Miss Demidova,” I corrected.  Her eyes narrowed as her grin widened.

“You know them on a first-name basis I see,” she said.  It was a statement.

“Well, they’re very personable.  They’ve met all the interns,” I explained.

“But, according to my sources, they have their own intern—a supernatural specialist.  A young man of about your age, I hear,” she said.

“Wow, you have sources inside the Tower?  That’s got to be worth gold to a reporter?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“Well, the world is very curious about New York’s resident angel and vampire princess.  And I’m the reporter who broke the story,” she said, with not a little pride.

“Yeah, I saw you on TV.  You’re pretty famous yourself these days,” I said, sensing that flattery was working.

“And you’re very mysterious.  A college kid who expertly deflects attention from himself, who knows the power couple on a first-name basis and is the only intern to travel around by himself,” she said.

“Ah well, you know.  Small town kid, Big Apple.  Don’t really know the other interns all that well yet,” I said.

“Hey Declan,” “Hi Declan,” “G’day Dec,” rang out from twenty yards away as Aleesha, Jodi, and Grace all walked up to the entrance to the Tower.

Damn.

“Yeah, I can see that,” she said, smirking.  “Although my sources said the special intern was named Declan.  What do you think are the odds that you and he have the same name?”

I tried a laugh, but it came out nervous.  “Well, we have like two Johns, two Stephens, a couple of Alicias with minor variations in spelling, and three Moriahs.  So, pretty good, I’d say,”

She pulled her smart phone and scrolled through something on the screen, nodding to herself.  “Yup, you have all of those.  But no other Declans.”

“You have a list of every intern’s name?” I asked, incredulous.  “Just who the hell do you have for a source?” I asked, knowing she would be unlikely to answer.

“Hey Declan.  You can’t just leave your pets in here,” a familiar voice rang out.  I looked over to find Stacia standing in the Tower doorway.  The paparazzi cameras started to click and snap like crazy.  “Oh, hey Brystol,” she said, waving.  “Seriously D, ya gotta move them to somewhere safe.”

“They’re perfectly fine right there,” I said back, not bothering to yell.

“You’re kidding, right?  Just sitting there all rolled up?  What happens when someone sits on one of them?” Stacia asked.

“Absolutely nothing.  You could hit them with a sledgehammer and they won’t move,” I said, not completely certain that was true.

“Why don’t you humor me and take them to Chet.  He’ll love them,” she said before turning and heading back inside.  “Bye Brystol,” she called over one shoulder.

The cameras snapped and whirred even faster as she walked away.

“So that’s your source,” I said.

Brystol’s eyes gleamed.  “Hah, so you are the special intern.  You and I are going to have a long talk,” she said.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta go put away my toys,” I said.

“You know that every time she comes out that door, these guys snap about a billion shots of her?  That she avoids this entrance like the plague?  And yet she comes out to call you back inside.  Hmmm.  Interesting stuff, don’t you think, Declan?”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Chatterjee.  Gotta run,” I said.  “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

“No maybes about it, Declan,” she said, eyeing me like a coyote with a T-bone steak.

I almost ran but managed to keep it to a fast shuffle.  Fleeing the scary reporter for the safety of the werewolf, robot centipede, and vampire-filled building.

Chapter  13 – Chris

They were easy to track down.  Everyone I came across remembered seeing Stacia with the new guy and two giant black metal spheres that rolled along behind him.  The trail led first to Chet’s office-slash-lab and then to the gym.

Stacia stood in the middle of the floor, wearing a black sports bra and lycra shorts, holding a collapsible metal baton in each hand.  Facing her was one of the centipedes, unrolled and towering over her with a single pair of sword legs unfolded.  Only these legs looked different… modified.  The major change was a round column of grey foam like the kind used to insulate hot water pipes.  That and the actual silver blades were missing.

Declan stood about fifteen feet away, the missing blades on the floor at his feet.  He was wearing basketball shorts, a t-shirt, and sneakers.  Chet stood about twenty feet behind Stacia, staring at his tablet.

“Ready?” Chet called.  At Stacia’s “Yup,” he counted down.  “Three, two, one, go!”

Blurring into motion, the blonde wolf girl swept forward on bare feet, her twin batons flicking toward the centipede.  The giant arthropod scuttled back slightly on four or five pairs of legs while its modified swords instantly spun up to full weed whacker speed.

Stacia moved obliquely, forcing the pede to turn with her, first feinting low, then high, then spinning like a lacrosse player and jinking to the other side.

The robot matched her, its whirring blades of padded death presenting an almost-unbeatable defense.

But other than a few jabs and flicks of her batons, Stacia never tried to breach the robot’s protective death spin.  Instead, she moved even faster around it and finally she faked a low strike. When it bobbed down at her, she leaped onto its head, one slim foot launching her into a flipping jump.

She landed fifteen feet away, spinning in mid-air to come down facing the metal creature, which should have attacked but didn’t.  The robot dropped the head she’d stepped on to the ground and lifted the other end, effectively changing its direction in the fastest way possible.  But it still didn’t attack and instead, its whirring padded legs slowed and stopped.

“Fascinating,” Chet said.

“What’s it at?” Stacia called, eyes on her opponent.

“Two-thirds power,” Declan said, arms crossed.

Chet looked up, slightly startled.  “Sixty-four percent,” he said.

“Or roughly two-thirds,” Declan reaffirmed.

“Did it start at full power?” I asked.  Chet and Declan spun to look my way, but Stacia merely nodded, her eyes not leaving the pede.

“They’re very fast, can change direction on a dime as you just saw, and present a very difficult defense and attack combo.  But they burn through power fast,” she said to me.

“They use linked ultracapacitors and lithium-ion batteries for power.  Each segment carries a power source, which is why they can fight on, even with terrific damage.  But the power is limited and all that metal and armor are huge drags.  They appear to be able to recharge themselves at any electrical source and even use some inductive charging to pick up a little power off handy electrical fields,” Chet said.

“They also have power conservation programs that kick in when they’ve discharged too much too fast.  That’s why it didn’t attack her after the flip.  The first bout with Stacia cost it a third of its power in just a few seconds.  It automatically slowed all its functions down to conserve power.  When it’s lost about sixty percent of its charge, it will seek to disengage and find a power source to recharge,” Declan said.

“Really?  Disengage?” I asked, surprised.

“Yeah. When we pushed it really hard, it scuttled backward to the outlet on the back wall and plugged some antenna-looking things in for about two minutes before it came back for more,” Stacia said.

“That seems ineffective,” I said.

“We think that faced with the current limits of battery technology, the engineers built them to be ambush and team attackers.  One on one with your average were or Darkkin in close quarters, they are deadly.  Too many blades and angles of attack.    But as you just saw, with space and a single attacker, Stacia would likely wear it out and take it apart, given the proper weapons,” Declan said.

“But they came in a big swarm,” I said.

“And our group would have been in trouble without the electric kid here,” Stacia said.

Declan frowned and looked down at the silver blades at his feet.

“We need tactics that force them to separate and attack one on one with room to maneuver,” she said, watching his reaction.

“We also think that they could be susceptible to some kind of discharge trap.  Lead them into an induction field or conductive trap that drains all their power quickly,” Chet said. “Declan can do it with his voodoo or whatever, but I for one would like a more tech-based device that anyone could use.”

“What else do we know about them?” I asked.

“Twelve body segments, each with its own motors, power, and computer chips.  Two heads with hypodermic mandibles that inject silver nitrate, some type of paralytic drug, and what appears to be hydrocyanic acid.  There are three separate payload chambers so it has all three at the same time.  What look like antenna are actually combo sensors and power feeds.  Cameras on all segments, both front and back, giving it complete environmental vision.  Titanium armor with a coating of DU, but no coverage at the connection between segments,” Chet said.

I looked at him when he said the last part, then moved closer to the upright pede.  “Will it attack me?” I asked Declan.

“No.  I added everyone on the team to its command list.  It only attacks Stacia because this is a training exercise and it knows it,” he said.

Moving closer, I could see the detail—the camera pits, the silver line between segments that was most likely chromed or stainless steel, the articulated legs with their folding jackknife blades sheathed inside them.

The robot stayed absolutely still as I got close, then quivered once before subsiding.

“Interesting. When you got nearer, it identified you by name as a primary target.  Your status on the command list caused an internal conflict and it requested clarification, which I just gave.  You, and I would guess Tanya, are at the top of this Anvil thing’s hit list,” Declan said, eyes slightly unfocused.

“Nice to be wanted,” I said.  A loud chuffing came from the hall outside the gym.  The double doors blasted open and ‘Sos came through at a fast trundle.

Both centipedes reared up, new blades snapping out and spinning up—silver blades.

“Oh, I forgot to put Awasos on the friends list,” Declan said, moving forward, perhaps to get between the bear and the robots. I grabbed him, moving before he could get crushed. It was much too late for stopping anything.

‘Sos came in hot, lined up with the first centipede—the one Stacia had been battling.  It spun up three silver blades, but the giant bear slammed to a halt, reared up to his full twelve feet of height, and slapped one massive paw down in an arc that hit it in the back of its head. Being designed to fight seven, even eight-foot-tall weres was one thing; fighting a creature a third again taller wasn’t in its program. The four-hundred-pound centipede smacked into the hard concrete of the floor, then flattened as fifteen hundred pounds of supernatural Kodiak came down on its back.

The second pede started forward but Declan held up a hand and it retreated, then rolled into a ball.  ‘Sos roared—a deafening end-of-times blast of anger, rage, and victory.  He jumped up and down a few times, then stepped off the broken pede, starting toward the metal orb that was the other one.

I slipped forward and wrapped a fist in his neck fur.  “They’re not actually a threat to us, Fur Face,” I said in a calm voice.  He stopped, which prevented me from getting dragged, and whuffed in my direction.  “Declan has them under control,” I said.

He sniffed the black metal ball, cuffed it lightly—just enough to roll it five feet—then turned and inspected his kill.

“Okay Chet, you wanted to open one up?  This one is already pre-cracked, like last night’s lobster,” Declan said from his position kneeling on the floor next to it.

The leg mechanisms still twitched, but they hadn’t stood up well to the massive force of Awasos jumping down on the centipede with all fours.  At least four segments had cracks in the metal, most of the middle ones had dents, and at least one segment had broken away from its neighbor.

“Look—his claws actually ripped the DU and titanium armor,” Declan noted, mostly to Chet, who was already down on all fours, face first into the robot’s remains.

A massive head snuffled the metal bug, moving up the carcass till it bumped Declan and almost knocked him over.

“Oh you killed it, alright.  This thing is toast,” the boy said, falling back to a sitting position as he talked to the giant grizzly.

“Sorry, Declan,” I said.

“What?  That our furry friend just protected us from what he thought was a massive threat?  That a machine engineered to kill my friends and employers got its ass kicked? I only brought them back to study them—now Chet can dissect this one,” Declan said.  “And I’ve just added ‘Sos to the friend list for Thing Two, so the stupid thing doesn’t threaten him and get itself crushed.”

“But now we know that at least ‘Sos knows how to fight them.  And you and Queenie seemed to do alright against them,” Stacia said, her face grim.  “And Declan’s death to them.”

“I got lucky,” he said, shaking his head.  “I had a full thunderstorm to work with.”

“Yeah, but you got that hocus pocus thing where you drain their juice, right?” she asked.

“It worked on these two, but it might be different if there’s a bunch and I…” he trailed off.

“Freeze up?” Stacia asked.  “Because from my perspective last night, it looked more like you were dazed by something.  What did you feel?”

He focused on the metal remains in front of him.  “It was big, really big—I guess maybe because it was in all of the centipedes at once.  I normally have to touch a device or be really close to hear the software.  But this thing has some horsepower to it.  I felt it the first day, but this was much more, ‘cause there were like sixty or seventy of those things and it was in all of them.”

“Probably puts copies of itself in everything it’s running.  That would sure magnify it,” Chet commented. “You said it jumped from computer to phone and tablet in the lobby?”

“Yeah, jumped the wi-fi signals, Bluetooth, radio frequencies, or something,” Declan said.

“You mentioned finding a way to remove us from its threat profile?” I asked.

“Well, that seems the easiest way.  Find out its definition of threat and recast all of us as non-threats or even assets.”

“How do you do that?” Stacia asked.

“Probably start by talking to the people that wrote this thing, although it has undoubtedly mutated beyond what they originally created,” Chet said.  “Your investigator gave us a couple of programmer names, which is impressive.  It’s really hard to get anything out of NSA people.”

“So, let’s see if we can’t put ourselves in front of these programmers.  My source indicated that one of the two had a stroke.  He should be easy to find,” I said, feeling a familiar presence approaching from outside the room.

A second later, my vampire appeared in the door, taking in the bear, the people, the robots—broken and whole—in a glance.  “Good, you’re already warmed up.  Let’s train.  Chet?  Joining us?”

“Hell no.  I’ve got to get this thing to the electronics lab somehow,” he said, standing hurriedly and looking anxiously toward the door.

“Thing Two—drag Thing One where Chet, tells you to, then come back,” Declan said.

The ball unrolled into a nine-foot horror that latched a leg claw onto the broken robot and clicked and scuttled over the floor toward Chet and the door.  Chet stood up and moved cautiously out of the room, watching Thing Two drag its broken brother with a mixture of fascination and mild concern.

For a second, I thought Awasos might attack it, but his head just tracked its progress like a tank turret until it passed out of the gym, the screech of dragging metal moving away.

“Great.  We’ve got about an hour and a half, then I have to get ready for tonight’s board meeting.  Declan, please plan on attending. It’s at nine, in the board room on the forty-fifth floor.  Business casual will do fine.  Now, let’s start,” Tanya said, eliciting a groan from Declan and a fierce grin from Stacia, who dove at him from behind.

The kid went down in a tangle but bounced back up and jumped six feet away, the glyphs on his arms and legs appearing like oil bubbling up under his skin.  Stacia came right after him, her twin batons flowing through an escrima pattern.  He held his ground and when she got close enough, ducked under her left hand swing, dropping forward on one knee to snare her right leg in a single leg takedown.

Her right hand baton came down hard on his back but bounced when it got an inch from his skin, the recoil so severe that the rod came right out of her hand and flew Tanya’s way, where a pale white hand snatched it out of the air.  “Good shielding, Declan,” Tanya said.

Declan was able to pull Stacia off balance, but as she fell, she twisted and turned, getting his body in full guard, her legs wrapped around his waist in a manner that might appear intimate unless you were the one experiencing the strength of her hold, the fierce gleam in her eyes, and the relentless pull of her arms as she dragged his arm, then shoulder, then head forward.  Her legs un-scissored and rewrapped further up his back as she prepared to execute a triangle choke.

Realizing she was too strong, even with his glyphs, Declan relaxed his posture, letting her pull his arm against her torso, his hand falling flat on her sternum just below her neck.  He smiled at her slightly as if he was using the situation to cop a grope or something, but suddenly, there was a sharp snapping pop and then he was flying backward from the weregirl whose blonde hair was almost standing on end, her eyes shocked and wide.

“Good Declan.  You can’t match her strength, even with your glyphs, and her jiu-jitsu is very good, yes?  So you snuck in one of your own surprises.  Now let’s do it again from the same position, only this time, let’s say your pool of magic is depleted so you have to get away without using magic.”

“I could try for an eye gouge,” he said, sounding uncertain.

“Putting your hand in a werewolf’s face is a sure way to get it bitten off.  You’re going to have to defend against her triangle choke first, then attempt a counterattack.  Here, let’s work through it.”

Tanya put them back into the guard position and started to show Declan what to do.  A furry mass pressed under my arm with inexorable pressure as Awasos decided he wanted my attention.

“What do you think, buddy?  Will the kid survive the summer?” I asked my bear.

Declan glanced my way, “I heard that!” then disappeared in a flash of tanned legs that slipped around his neck and cut off his air.

‘Sos yawned and lay down on the ground.  “Yeah, probably not,” I agreed as my intern frantically tapped out.

Chapter 14 – Declan

I had no idea why I would be invited to a board meeting of the Demidova Corp, but I was interested.  Who wouldn’t want to be a fly on the wall of the world’s newest Wall Street wonder?

The board room was almost over the top.  Huge, polished table dominating a massive room with plush carpeting, expensive vases and sculptures around the perimeter, one whole wall clad in hand-fitted sheets of dark green marble, the name of the company in ten-inch-tall gold-plated letters against the deep, rich marble.

Twelve chairs encircled the table, five per side with one at each end.  A separate desk with mounted monitor and keyboard sat just adjacent to one end of the table, and Lydia was settling herself into its chair.  Tanya’s spot as Chairman and CEO was the end seat nearest Lydia’s secretary’s desk.  At least that’s what the little cheat sheet that Lydia had made me said.

The single page of copier paper had a rough sketch of the room drawn out, with names and notes for each position.  Based on some of her written comments, I was interested to see what these people were like.  I sat in a small group of chairs that occupied the same side of the room as the mini fridge, sink, and espresso maker, which was a statement on the importance of caffeine for the oversight of a multi-billion-dollar company.

The Demidova Corp had exploded onto the international finance scene immediately after the Battle of Washington.  With the massive spotlight of global attention that had been focused on Chris and Tanya, their company had received almost as much media coverage as they had.

From what I knew, the company had offices around the world and operated as a diversified group of businesses that were radically different.  Apparently, Tanya had formed it from businesses she had already owned, accumulated during her silent teenage years.  Chris had mentioned on many occasions that she was a business prodigy, with a razor-sharp mind and trip wire instincts for making deals.  As the anointed prophetic figure of the Darkkin world, she had been receiving massive gifts of wealth since birth.  Her mother, another business prodigy, had given her free rein to invest her own money, and invest she did.

The skeleton of the company was a real estate empire that owned offices in London and Hong Kong, shale deposits in Texas and South Dakota, and apartment complexes around the world.  It was accessorized by nanotech startups in Germany, Japan, and upstate New York, a software company in Ireland, biotech research facilities in Israel, France, and Germany, and a Chinese solar panel production plant that she somehow owned a majority of in Beijing.

The IPO had been this year’s most anticipated event on Wall Street, and every investor on the planet had wanted in on the company owned, started and run by God’s own power couple.  The price of the stock had rocketed to stratospheric heights purely on the momentum generated by the constant replay of the Battle.  Analysts had discussed the solid cash flow generated by the real estate and energy plays while speculating on the possibilities of the biotech innovations that vampire biology was sure to provide and, of course, the firm’s unique ability to clean up extra-dimensional incursions of the demonic kind.  They charged pretty heavy for those, at least to large, developed nations that had engaged in the kind of particle physics experimentation that had been proven to erode the space-time barriers across the multiverse we had found ourselves in.  Smaller, less wealthy countries got discounts—big discounts.  Corporations engaged in similar particle physics activities got really large bills for their ectoplasmic cleanup costs.

The result of all this was a unique group of board members, most of whom were beginning to enter the room now.  Lydia had helpfully stapled a printout of the boards' photos and bios taken from the company website so I could attach names to faces.

The rows of extra seating in front of me filled up with department heads and other corporate officers, each giving me a curious glance or nod, depending upon if we had met during my rune drawing activities or not.  Someone sat in the seat next to mine, but I didn’t look over, instead glancing from my cheat sheet to the board table.

The attractive pale brunette who sat to Tanya’s right was her mother, Galina Demidova.  She looked maybe thirty, but was older than the United States.  She was focused on her tablet, her white finger flipping through pages at an unlikely speed.

On the other side of Tanya’s seat, a tall, wide-shouldered man in his early thirties, with dark hair and dark eyes, sat staring at the table directly in front of him, almost like he was meditating.  I looked at the chart and found his name—Brock Mallek, CEO of Lupine Industries.  The connection came to me a moment later.  He was the Alpha of the New York Pack, which Stacia belonged to.  Lydia’s notes indicated he had been a friend to Chris since my mentor had arrived in the Big Apple several years ago.  Maybe he was meditating; it would be a good idea.  Keep that werewolf temper in hand and all that.  Maybe Delwood could learn it.  Ha!

Next to Mallek was a twenty-something with a smug look and expensive watch.  He was dressed much more casually than anyone else in the room, but his casual attire probably cost more than my laptop.  Dustin Cryor, founder of Crytech Cybersecurity, Incorporated.  I was familiar with his company, which had had almost as meteoric a rise as Tanya’s.  We studied his software in class, and the professor had been an unabashed fanboy of Cryor’s.

Across from Cryor, sitting next to Galina, was another vampire.  Ian Smitwick, a British investor, who, Lydia’s notes indicated, had his fingers in many pies around the world.  I looked up from my notes to get a visual on him and found myself staring at a pair of pale, ice blue eyes.  Immediately, I broke eye contact and went back to looking at my pages, although my eyes didn’t see a single word.  He had been studying me while I had been reading about him.  Was he like Nika?   A telepath?  Without conscious thought, I felt my mental shields solidify and lock down.  When I looked up, I deliberately looked to his side, where an Indian vampire sat.  I could still feel Smitwick’s eyes on me for a moment longer while I read about Dr. Raj Singh, board member and Chief Medical Officer of Demidova Inc.  The Brit vamp’s stare was almost like a pressure on my senses.  Abruptly, it let up and when I allowed my gaze to traverse Smitwick, he was engaged in conversation with Galina.  I let out a tiny sigh of relief.  The person sitting next to me snorted softly and when I glanced her way, I found Katrina sitting there, smirking.

“Yo Trina,” I said softly.  She smiled in an unsettling way, more predatory than friendly, but that was par for the course with her.  I had learned to ignore it at College Arcane.

“Trying to hide out in the back row again, O’Carroll?” she asked.  “Not working, is it?”

“Not a hundred percent, no,” I said.  “How about you?  Got a speaking part in this show?”

“If called on,” she allowed, settling down to inspecting her glittering, razor sharp nails as if they could actually break or chip.

After a moment, I went back to my cheat sheet. A human sat next to Dr. Singh, a tall male named Dr. Wade Pitcairn, Columbia professor, which seemed an odd choice for a board member till I read that he taught classes in folklore, theology, and occult myths and legends. The end chair was Chris’s, and next to him sat yet another Doctor, Dieter Bernhard, PhD.  Doctorate in Applied Nanotechnology.

The board member next to Dr. Bernhard was a female vampire with brown hair and scars on the side of her neck and face.  The list had her as Alexandra Vincent, Outer Guard.  There was no other explanation.

Two of the twelve chairs remained open, even as Tanya came in, conferred with Lydia, and then claimed her own. Lydia’s notes left them blank.

“I’ll call the board to order,” Tanya said softly, instantly silencing the chatter in the room.

“You’ve all received the minutes from the last meeting on your tablets. Any questions or corrections?” she asked.

The cyber guy, Cryor, raised one hand, speaking when Tanya nodded at him.

“Under Mr. Aikens’ report on computer security… or rather a lack thereof, I believe, I’ve been misquoted.  It says here Mr. Cryor asked about the extent of the measures taken, noting that Crytech had not been one of the security companies utilized.  I believe I wasn’t noting so much as asking why my firm, arguably the leading cybersecurity provider on the planet, hadn’t been involved,” he said, a smirk flickering across his lips.

“Lydia?” Tanya asked, even as her tiny vampire administrator started typing instructions at improbable speeds on her keyboard.

A massive screen descended from the ceiling along with a matching high-grade projector.  Footage appeared, obviously of this very room, with a date stamp from a month earlier.  The footage fast forwarded in bursts, then abruptly stopped.  Cryor was shown, his face serious, hand fisted on the table in front of him.

“I see a rather lengthy list of my competitors here and yet nothing of the industry leader, Crytech?” the projected Dustin Cryor asked.

“Semantics, possibly, but let’s change noted to asked,” Tanya instructed Lydia, who nodded sharply.

“So noted,” Lydia said with the tiniest twitch of her lips.

“Satisfied, Dustin?” Tanya asked.

“With the correction? Yes.  With the explanation given?  Not so much.  This company is burning capital at an unsustainable rate, operations disrupted and frozen by overt hacking and DDoS attacks, and you are not utilizing the best weapon you could have—me. That seems… negligent,” the smarmy little bastard said.  I’d been here five minutes and already the villains were self-evident.

“Ah, well, reading further in the minutes, you’ll note that management’s answer was that we were avoiding a potential conflict of interest while pursuing other solutions,” Tanya replied.

“And how’s that going for you?” he asked, extremely self-satisfied.

“If you would allow her to complete the agenda in order, we might all find out,” Brock Mallek said, his deep voice almost a growl.  I sat up a little.  When a werewolf uses that tone, it’s best to pay attention.

“Exactly.  If we could get a motion on the corrected minutes, we can proceed to the next order of business, which so happens to be Chet’s CIO report,” Tanya said.

“I’ll make the motion to accept the minutes,” Galina said.

“Second,” Dr. Singh said.

“All in favor?” Tanya asked, getting a chorus of ayes.  “All opposed?” she asked again, with only silence for an answer.  “So carried.”

“Chet, would you be good enough to put us out of our misery?” she asked.

The skinny computer honcho was sitting in the front row of chairs in my section and now he stood up and confidently walked to the projector screen, where a Powerpoint presentation had replaced the recorded footage of the last meeting.

He turned and faced the board, the screen next to him changing to show the first slide—titled Systems Status.

“As of six p.m. yesterday, all headquarter systems have been declared secure.  As of midnight, last night, all secondary and tertiary systems as well as our satellite assets have also been secured.  All exploits, malware, viruses, and repudiation attacks have been stopped and cleared from our systems.  DDoS attacks continue but have failed since midnight.  Operations as of today’s date have resumed under normal conditions, worldwide,” Chet said, a matching bullet point appearing on the slide for each of his declarations.

The vampires were harder to read but the humans and the Alpha werewolf were clearly impressed, although Cryor’s expression bordered on disbelief.

“How did you achieve that?” Dr. Singh asked.

“The intern program bore exceptional fruit.  A small subgroup of our summer computer interns, under my supervision, put together some rather revolutionary software that was able to cleanse our computers and continues to successfully protect them from further attacks,” Chet said.

“What about our financial assets held at other institutions?” Galina asked.

“We’re in the process of reconciling those accounts, matching our now-recovered records to theirs.  It may take some time to completely clear up, but the process is moving forward.  Accounts held in our subsidiary bank are fine,” Tanya said.  “The finance department is again issuing invoices and working with our vendors and customers to expedite payment of all the older accounts receivables that we haven’t been able to bill out.  It’ll take some time to clear up, but our resources and contingent lines of credit are sufficient to get us over the hump.  In short, we’re back in business,” Tanya said with a slight smile.

“You achieved all this with a few interns?” Cryor asked, expression incredulous.

“Essentially,” Tanya said.  “And they shall remain nameless for the time being.  Our operations are just now restored and our security is paramount.  Whoever is behind these attacks has broken dozens of laws with complete disregard.  I don’t want any of our people exposed to attack or kidnapping,” Tanya said.

“But surely the board members can be privy to this information?” Cryor protested.

“Why, so you can try to recruit them?” Brock asked.

Cryor shrugged.  “Because management answers to the board and we should be kept apprised.”

“There are multiple security considerations here,” Chris said. “Security for the firm, for our personnel, and for you all as board members.  We are closing in on the source of the attacks, but the enemy’s ability to penetrate systems and devices is unparalleled.  None of you have secured systems, including you, Dustin.  So you are all potential security risks until we can provide our new software to protect your own digital security.  Plus, this technology is revolutionary and we haven’t fully explored the potential profitability of it.”

“Which is exactly the reason I should be brought into the loop on it.  Who better to assess its potential than the founder of the world’s top cyber security firm?”

Cryor asked.

“Actually, Dustin, this application bears almost no resemblance to current technology.  No offense, but you won’t even be able to read it,” Chet said.  Cryor looked like a volcano getting ready to burst.

“Ah, would I be correct in surmising that the technology in question is more paranormal than not?” Ian Smitwick asked before Cryor could explode.

“You would be exactly correct, Ian,” Tanya said.  “A combination of old knowledge with new to block a digital enemy that can’t be stopped by the current state of the art in cybersec.  And before you have an aneurism, Dustin, that includes your technology.  We have one of your protected netbooks that Chet has been looking over, and it was suborned as rapidly as any other computer in the place.”

“I’m guessing then that not all your interns come from name-recognition institutions?” Ian asked.

“Again, you are correct,” Tanya said.  “We will explain all of this, but we need some additional time to lock down our current advantage, which is tenuous.”

“I, for one, will be dying to hear all about these new discoveries,” Dieter Bernhard said with only a trace of accent.

“And hear about it you will.  Again, we will need to make sure your personal systems are all protected first, though,” Tanya said.

“I’m not even getting a signal on my Android,” Dieter noted, frowning at his phone.

Katrina tapped my leg with one finger, then tilted her tablet so that I could read the message on the screen, which said it was from Tanya.

Is that our wards blocking his phone?

I nodded to Katrina and her fingers flew in swift answer.

“And you won’t unless we let up on the protections we’ve put in place,” Tanya said, looking up from her own tablet.

Smitwick poured himself a glass of water from the bottle of Evian that each of them had at their places, glancing up to catch me watching him.  He raised one eyebrow slightly at me and then sipped his water.

He knows about me… or guesses, somehow, I thought.  Katrina tapped my leg again and showed me the sentence that she had herself typed for my view.

Smitwick is crazy sharp at observing his surroundings… it’s his vamp power.

I nodded my understanding to her and returned my attention to the main drama.

“You are doing us a great disservice by not telling us at least the name and origin of this malware,” Dustin said.

“It may seem that way, but in actuality, we’re doing you a huge service in not telling you.  See, the enemy is the software… an autonomous program that has left its cage and is out of its handler’s grasp,” Chris said.

“That’s absurd.  Nobody has anything that advanced.  I would know,” Dustin said.

“They do—or at least they did, and this software tends to protect itself, which is why you haven’t heard about it,” Chris said.

“Can we go back to the part about mixing old knowledge with new?” the professor, Pitcairn, asked.  “Can we at least hear a bit more about that?”

“I can tell you that it’s right up your alley, Wade,” Chris said.

“Are you talking about Crafting?  You have a practitioner on staff?” Pitcairn asked.

“We do,” Chris said.

“Crafting?  What the hell is that?  What’s a practitioner?” Cryor demanded.

“He’s talking about an individual who can mold reality to her or his wishes,” Smitwick said.  “The terms you might apply to such an individual are wizard, sorcerer, or witch.”

“You’ve never been partial to Crafters?” Brock asked, looking specifically at Chris.

“There are always exceptions, Brock,” Chris said.

“Does this have to do with that joint education project with the government’s Oracle group?” Galina asked.  “That was a rather expensive line item, if I recall.”

“One that has obviously borne fruit if it has resulted in the resumption of profit generation,” Smitwick said.

“Hold on.  You’re saying you have a Harry Potter or Hermione Granger on staff, that you recruited him or her from some kind of Hogworts that we’ve been funding and he or she wrote a new computer language?” Cryor asked, half-exasperated and half-incredulous.

“Essentially accurate, if a bit heavy on the pop culture,” Tanya said.

“When can I meet her?” Pitcairn asked.

“Her? How do you know it’s a female?” Brock asked.

“I, too, desire to meet this individual,” Smitwick said, glancing my way.

“Despite all the fiction, the best practitioners of the Craft are the witch families, and magic appears to be stronger in females,” Pitcairn said to Brock.

He knows nothing of strength, Sorrow said.  I was intrigued that Pitairn knew as much about witches as he did.

“We’ll tell you more when your phones and tablets have been protected,” Chris said.

“How soon can that be done?” Pitcairn asked.

“If you want to stay after the meeting, we will see what we can do,” Tanya said after exchanging a look with Chris.

“Can you at least tell me what family or country she’s descended from?” Pitcairn asked.

Again, there was an exchange of looks and then Chris spoke.  “The Irwins of Ireland.”

Pitcairn sucked a breath, eyes widening.  “Really?  Fascinating,” he said.

“I was going to guess Ireland,” Smitwick said.  “The features are rather self-evident.”

“What do you mean?  Have you already met her?” Pitcairn asked.

“No Wade.  I just pay great attention to my environment is all,” Smitwick said, then turned to look straight at me.

Brock turned to see where Smitwick was looking and found me immediately.  His nostrils flared and he nodded to himself.  The others turned and looked around the seated crowd, Pitcairn looking right past me.

Tanya sighed.  “Thank you, Ian, for preempting our secret,” she said sarcastically.

“Oh heavens.  If you wanted him secret, you knew better than to bring him in here and, besides, you’ve already indicated that this room is protected from the enemy’s surveillance,” Smitwick said, completely unconcerned.

“Him?” Pitcairn asked.

“Declan, would you please stand up?” Chris asked, looking as exasperated as Tanya.

Katrina poked me when I didn’t move quick enough, leaving me rubbing my side as I stood in place.

“Meet Declan O’Carroll—sophomore at College Arcane, computer science major, creator of the Wytchwar Games, and our ace card,” Chris said.

“But he’s a he?” Pitcairn sputtered.

“Excellent observation, old boy,” Smitwick said.

“His mother was Maeve Irwin, if that means anything to you, Wade,” Chris said.

Pitcairn sucked in another sharp breath and looked at me with surprised eyes.

“None of this means anything to me,” Cryor said, studying me like I was a mildly disgusting bug.

“Ahh,” Brock said, at which Pitcairn’s head snapped around.

“You know who Maeve Irwin is… was?” the professor asked the werewolf.

“No, but I’ve heard a lot about this young man from one of my pa…people.  She’s mentioned you, young man,” Brock said, the first to speak directly to me.

“She enjoys beating me up and calling it teaching,” I said, noticing that he stopped himself from saying the word pack. The whole room was watching me, and I didn’t much care for it.

“Thank you, Declan,” Tanya said.  “There will be time to talk to Declan after we conclude the meeting.  Now perhaps we can call on Dr. Singh for an update on our biotech endeavors?”

I sat down and listened as Singh started to speak about successful drug trials in India and Thailand with tumor reductions and outright eradication of cancerous cells.  The meeting resumed, but Pitcairn kept stealing glances at me and Smitwick just met my eyes and raised one eyebrow sardonically before looking to his tablet.

All in all, my first exposure to a board-level meeting in a major company was enlightening.  Somehow, I hadn’t anticipated how much personality wrangling Tanya and Chris would have to do to run their company.  What else was this summer going to teach me?

Chapter 15 - Chris

Smitwick and Pitcairn were grilling Declan while he worked on board member cell phones and tablets, as Brock listened in and Cryor prowled around the edges of the conversation.  Rescue seemed in order.

“He’ll be all right for a few minutes more,” Tanya said, coming up behind me.  Galina was with her.  “In the meantime, Mother has offered to use some of her connections to get us information on the NSA programmers that created Anvil.”

“What’s the use of helping birth a country if you don’t end up with some serious leverage in the process?” Galina asked.

We may have split from the main Coven and formed the Demidova Corp, but the ties of family are strong and vampire relationships are formed from spider silk crossed with Kevlar.  They may stretch and twist, but completely breaking them is difficult.  Galina had appeared back in New York not long after Tanya had stopped talking to Elder Senka.  That she was a plant was obvious, but she had been generous with her resources and advice, and she was, after all, Tanya’s mother.

“You must be careful, Mother.  Anvil is dangerous,” Tanya said.

“I shall be circumspect in my questioning, and I take it that your pet witch can secure my technology,” Galina said.

“He’s not our pet witch, Mother,” Tanya answered.  “He’s very much his own person.”

“One with supremely valuable skills.  You should bind him to you,” Galina said.

“I would rather earn his trust then try to enslave him,” I said, beginning to feel annoyed with my vampire mother-in-law. “But thank you for digging up that information.”

“Nonsense. It’s just a few judicious inquiries.  But as to the boy, if he’s as useful as you say, you must lock him to your service.  Relying on trust and honor will leave you betrayed and broken.  High ideals have no place in either the business world or the Darkkin world,” Galina said.

Six months ago, I would have argued it out with her, but time had taught me better uses of my energy.  Teaching an old vamp new tricks was a loser’s game.  Instead, I left her to her daughter while I moved forward to protect my intern.

“Mother, you did that on purpose.  You know how he feels,” Tanya admonished as I moved away.

“Bah.  You’ll learn.  You’ll both learn if you live as long as I have,” Galina said behind me.

“Ah, but you forget… I did learn… at the same time you did.  I experienced all that you did over those years,” Tanya answered, referring to the lessons she had absorbed during her multi-century gestation period.

“Maybe so, dear one, but you failed to take those experiences to heart,” was her mother’s answer as I left their conversation behind me and picked up on the one in front of me.

“But you must have some idea why you fall so far outside the bell curve for males?” Pitcairn was asking Declan.

“I have a theory, but it’s not one I will talk about,” Declan said with uncharacteristic firmness.  Uh oh; their pressing was getting to him.

“Declan’s theories are his own, along with his spellcraft and family secrets,” I said, causing them all to turn to me.

“Of course they are,” Smitwick said smoothly, turning to Declan.  “Excuse our fervor, young man.  Professor Pitcairn and I share a rather sordid fascination with the occult.  To find such an accomplished practitioner of the Craft in our back garden, as it were, is both a bit of a shock and an irresistible temptation.”

Wade looked mildly crazed, but he caught Smitwick’s elegantly raised eyebrow and reined himself in.

“My apologies, Declan.  Ian is right.  The pursuit of knowledge gets the best of my common sense at times,” Wade said.

“I understand, sir. My professors at college have much the same passion,” Declan said.  “It’s what makes them good teachers.”

Brock, who was watching the whole byplay, nodded slightly, either in agreement or approval.  I was looking forward to hearing his observations about our intern, privately.

“What I don’t understand is how this magic or whatever can be written into code?” Cryor interjected.

“There are theories that magic is really quantum mechanics harnessed by the human mind,” Declan said.

“How can a brain harness particle physics?” Cryor asked, his tone still incredulous.

“How can observation affect a beam of electrons?” Declan asked.

Cryor pulled back, surprised, then his expression turned thoughtful.

“What are you talking about?” Brock asked.

“One of the more fantastic premises about quantum theory is that the very act of observing an experiment changes the experiment.  It’s been shown that a beam of electrons changes if it’s observed as opposed to when it is not observed,” Wade Pitcairn said.

“Really?  That’s rather bizarre, isn’t it?” Brock asked.

“So you’re saying that your ability to alter the physical world is change on a quantum level affected by your brain?” Cryor asked Declan.

“Essentially,” Declan said.

“So anyone could do it,” Cryor said.

“It seems that everyone has some degree of effect on the quantum world, but it varies greatly.  Most people can observe a double-slit experiment and change its outcome. Some people can drive under a street lights and have them blink off for no known reason. Others, like some of my classmates, can observe things happening hundreds of miles away with just their minds, or read minds for that matter, or move a pencil.  And then you have witches who can do even more,” Declan said.

“And speaking of witches who can do more, I need to snag Declan.  We have some vehicles to ward,” I said, seeing my opportunity.

“Nice to meet all of you.  Work calls and the whipmaster is here,” Declan said ruefully.  I could tell he was happy about the interruption, his body already moving toward the exit.

“Hah, a pleasure to meet you, young man,” Ian said.

“Maybe you could spare Declan for lunch sometime, Chris?” Wade asked. “I really want to hear more about your college and if they’re hiring.”

I stopped and twisted around to see if he was serious.  He wasn’t grinning, laughing, or sweating with a fever.  “It’s a tiny institution that farms out its students to established colleges for most of their curricular needs, Wade.  It isn’t in your pay grade,” I said.

“But it is apparently chock full of truly gifted occult students.  I’d give my left arm for that experience.  Who knows, maybe we could arrange a visiting scholar type situation.  See how it works out,” Wade said, getting more excited.  “What do you think, Declan?  Could you see me there?”

Declan, his expression wary, took his time answering.  “I don’t know what or how you teach, sir, but if you’re on this board, then you must come highly recommended.  But how do you get along with young werewolves?”

Wade smiled, then realized Declan was serious.  Now his jaw dropped open.  “You have werewolves among the student population?”

“About a third of the students are weres, most of which are wolves.  They can be a bit of a handful,” Declan said.

Wade looked from my intern to me and then to Brock, who just arched one eyebrow in amusement.

“How is discipline maintained, Declan?” Brock asked, as Wade was still speechless.

“Well, most of the time Delwood, the class Alpha, keeps them in line.  Mr. Jenks, who is also a werewolf, kinda keeps Delwood grounded, as does Gina Velasquez, the director of the school,” Declan.  “But they have mercurial tempers and you have to be a bit… judicious with them.”

“Do they bully any of the students?” Brock asked.

“Well, Delwood started in on me, but we came to an arrangement,” Declan said.

“What was that?” Brock asked, fascinated.

“He leaves me alone and doesn’t get out of hand with any of the other kids and I don’t burn him to ash,” Declan said with a small smile.

Brock’s eyebrows went up and he looked to me for confirmation of Declan’s seemingly bold statement.

“He’s not kidding.  They had some real scrapes and then Delwood discovered what a pissed-off witch can do.  But you’re now friends, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Of a sort.  We respect each other; we like to compete with against other. He’s not just a muscle-bound idiot but actually rather intelligent when he decides to be, and he’s learned that I’m not a skinny geek.  Well, actually I am, but I’m not a pushover skinny geek.”

“Fascinating.  We have to have lunch soon,” Wade said.

“As long as you’re buying.  He is a college student, you know,” I said.  The reality was that we were paying Declan about the same amount as the professor made at Columbia, but none of them, including Declan, knew that yet.

I led him to the elevators before the others could think to follow.  Smitwick was just as fast on the uptake, though.  He arrived in a blast of air just as the elevator door started to close, sticking his hand in to stop it.

“Might as well ride down with you chaps,” he said, pleased with himself.

“Smooth, Ian. Smooth,” I said.

He laughed.  “It’s just that it occurred to me that Declan here might be of assistance to Chester on that rather special project. What?” he asked.

“You mean the quantum computer they’re trying to build?” Declan asked, surprising Ian and myself.

“Yes exactly,” Smitwick said.

“Same idea already occurred to Chet.  We’ll make it happen, but our priority has been computer security.  Actually, security in general.  This program attacks from all sides with anything it can take over.  A Google car tried to take me out the other day,” I said.

“Really?” Smitwick asked. “So the vehicle wards are real, not just a fiction?”

“They are not fiction at all.  All modern cars have computers.  Having your engine suddenly shut off in rush hour traffic is unpleasant,” I replied.

The elevator doors opened on the lobby level, which was Ian’s stop, as he usually had a driver and car waiting out front.  But the lobby was full of people—camera-holding, microphone-waving people with the wild-eyed look of the press.

“Mr. Gordon—” “Sir over here,” “Can we get a quote?” “Any comment?” mixed all together.

One of the guards came directly to me.  “Mr. Gordon, from what we can gather, some Wall Street publication put out a story that Demidova Corp was on the verge of collapse.”  He handed me a printout from some investment newsletter that Tanya would probably recognize.  I skimmed it.  There was a lot of information about our data disruptions and even the elevator incident.  Somebody, or more likely, something had fed this blogger inside information.

Tanya was much better equipped to handle these kind of issues. Hell, even Lydia was better at being a corporate spokesperson.  But they weren’t down here.

I passed the paper back to Smitwick, who read it with Declan looking over his shoulder.

“So what do you want to know?” I asked the crowd of reporters.

Chapter 16 – Declan

I found the board meeting fascinating, but the impromptu press conference was a real education.

He wasn’t smooth, he wasn’t polished, and he was blunt as hell, and the reporters loved him for it.

“Is it true the corporation is in dire straits?” one voice yelled above the others, loud enough to get Chris’s attention.

“No.  If you’re asking if we’ve had our issues with digital attacks and illegal hacking, then yes.  But guess what?  We solved them.  Which is probably why you’re here,” he said.  That statement did the impossible and shut them up… at least for a few seconds.

“Can you explain that?” another voice called.

“Look, some market pundit or another wrote an article with detailed information about this corporation and the attacks it has suffered.  Much of that article is true.  We certainly have been hacked at, code spliced and sliced, and had our people threatened.  But hey, look who you’re talking to.  We’re used to being attacked.  Granted, it’s usually by things from Hell Street, not hacks from Wall Street, but an attack is an attack.  So we did what we always do—defended ourselves and began to track down our enemy.  This article that has so handily come to light is just another last-ditch attack.  An assault on our stock price rather than our computers or, in the case of that elevator over there, our people.  But we stopped the elevator; we’ve protected our computers, our satellites, our foreign offices, and our sources of revenue.  And along the way, we’ve made some radical innovations in computer technology, and particularly cyber security.  Groundbreaking stuff that will likely add to our profits.  So to answer your question, no we’re not on the verge of collapse. We are, in all likelihood, on the verge of greater profits,” Chris said.  He looked annoyed yet sincere and his response was completely unscripted and obviously off the cuff.  It made an impression on his audience.

“Are you saying that the traders who are rushing to short the stock when the market opens are wrong?” another reporter asked.

“Listen, if you want to short ticker symbol VAMP tomorrow, go ahead.  People listen to short-term news blips all the time.  Over the short haul, the market is completely psychotic. You might make some money. But if you want to know where the stock will be three months, six months, or a year from now, my guess is higher.  Let me ask you this: What would you pay for unhackable software?  Computer security software that not only defends but counter attacks?  Not to mention all the stuff you already know about… the medical treatments undergoing foreign trials right now, the real estate, and all that,” he said.

“Do you really have a cure for cancer?” floated out of the group.

“I’m not answering that one.  I will tell you that the results are promising and that we are following all FDA procedures and guidelines. You’ll have to talk to Tanya about anything further.  I’ve already said too much,” Chris said.

“What about the Angel Flights?” another asked.

“We donate a lot of money to Angel Flights… what about them?”

“The flights to India and Thailand?  The sick patients coming home cured?” the same reporter answered.

“Listen, both countries have different requirements for drugs than ours. If you’re hearing good things, then it backs up what we’ve been saying all along.  These drugs will prove viable, safe, and effective,” Chris answered.

“Is it true that President Garth instructed the FDA to hold up approval of the vampire drugs?”

“I have no idea.  I don’t have a regular dialogue with the President.  Listen, we’re done here.  You’ll need to track down your answers with Garth, his administration, and the FDA.  And you’ll need to make up your own mind about VAMP,” Chris said, starting to turn away.

“You’re saying any price drop makes it a value?” someone asked.

He glanced back at me and I saw a gleam in his eye, a kind of eureka look.

“Value is a great word.  Let’s talk about Demidova Corp’s value.  We exist for one reason—to support our mission of protecting this country and its people.  Part of that mission is to produce a reasonable return on our investors’ money, but at the end of the day, we’re here to stop threats… to this country and others.  But wait—isn’t that the government’s job, you might ask?  Yes, except the President and all the resources that back him don’t have our unique skills,” Chris said.

“The demons are pretty much gone,” another reporter said.

“Are they?  For good?  You know that for sure?  Gotta dead colleague down below that’s feeding you the scoop through the office Ouija board?” he asked the reporter, getting a laugh.  “Because I don’t know that.  Have you ever fought a demon?  Any of you?  No?  Well let me clue you in on a little secret… they don’t stop.  Ever.  They’re like the Term-in-ator,” he said changing his voice to a bad German accent. “They’re out there… it’s what they do… it’s all they do.  So I think you all might need us.  There are new quasi-religious groups popping up all over the world, some worshipping the very things we just got rid of.  Who knows what they will do?  New experiments in quantum mechanics that could open a door to Hell or someplace we don’t even know about.  The multiverse is alive and well, and we’re on the map.”

“Do you think one of these Satanist churches is behind this attack?”

“I think whoever it is sees us as a threat.  My advice is that they should reexamine their threat list and their asset list.  We belong on the asset list.  Anyway, that’s all I’ve got for now.  You caught me unprepared.  My better half will likely give you more complete information before the markets open,” he said.

“Don’t sell yourself short, God Hammer. Nobody gives better interviews,” a voice yelled out.

Chris snorted.  “Gives away is more like it,” he said, getting a final laugh before he turned and led us back to the elevators.

“That was… inspired,” Smitwick said.

“Maybe.  It looked like an opportunity to send a message to our enemy.  Maybe try to have it reevaluate our threat status,” he said, looking at me.  I shrugged.

“You never fully explained it in the meeting,” Smitwick pointed out.

“Because it’s extraordinarily dangerous.  It attacks threats to the country and to itself.  Talking about it can get you labeled a threat, Ian.  Trust me: you don’t want that.”

“So you weren’t exaggerating when you said it was a program?” Smitwick asked.  Chris explained the whole thing to him.  I spent that part of the conversation thinking about what Chris had attempted.

“It’s a start,” I said when Chris wound down his spiel.  He looked at me expectantly.

“We still have to talk to the programmers, but you’ve fired the opening salvo in a new campaign.  We’ll need to keep it up.  Do you know any friendly reporters?  Ones who might be on our side?” I asked.

“Brystol Chatterjee comes to mind,” Chris said, musing over my question.

“Oh, I met her earlier today.  She would be a good start.  I think Anvil monitors everything—e-mails, web traffic, media.  The more positive spin we can generate, the higher the potential to trip over from threat status to asset status.  But I think that will require some positive classifications by the government,” I said as the elevator doors opened into the parking garage.

“Yeah, unfortunately you are likely right.  We’ve been avoiding contact with any and all of Uncle Sam’s people,” he said, leading me to a row of black SUVs and vans.  The SUVs were a version of the Ford Explorer that my aunt’s partner Darci sometimes drove for the sheriff’s department.   The model was the Police Interceptor Utility. They were all the rage with police departments across the country. There were eight of them, all midnight blue and two big, high-top Mercedes panel vans, also blue.

“This is our fleet. Think you can ward them up?” Chris asked.  Smitwick was still with us, I noted, watching me with fascination.

“Yeah, Darci often rides around in one of these and when she brings them home, I kinda dress them up a bit.  The ones I’ve done are quietly known as the lucky patrol units,” I said.

“Lucky?” Smitwick asked.

“Darci is Declan’s aunt’s partner.  She’s a Vermont sheriff’s deputy.  When Declan wards something, it becomes protected to a subtle degree, right?” Chris asked, turning to me.

“The wards seem to increase the probability of the things going right for the vehicles, passengers, and driver.  Less likely to crash or be run into, less likely to break down or blow a tire. It’s not at all guaranteed—I mean, if you hit the thing with a sledgehammer, it’ll dent.  But you’ll be more likely to strike inaccurately, have your strikes glance off rather than hit directly, stuff like that.”

“It will become harder to hit?” he asked, frowning.

I felt myself frown back.  “More like things will go wrong for you.  I had a bet with my Krav Maga instructor once about who could split wood better.  Just a friendly one, nothing riding on it.  We each had a round of wood to split, cut from the same tree, same size.  Except I warded his with a yellow Sharpie that blended in so he couldn’t see it.  His spitting maul kept hitting the knots or getting stuck in the wood. Every spot he wanted to hit, he missed; that kind of thing.  After twenty minutes of pounding, he wore away the wards and got the wood cut, but I was already done.”

“Ah, I see.  Tell me, did he find out?” Smitwick asked.

“Oh absolutely.  We told him.  Actually, he asked if I had used magic to cut mine and I told him I used magic to make sure he didn’t cut his,” I said.

“Was he angry?”

“Surprised at first, then he insisted on testing it further.  I had to ward some padding we used for sparring, put it on, and then he beat it till it didn’t work anymore… while I wore it,” I said.  “Took him a long time and a lot of hits to break the wards.”

“Hmm, effective revenge while testing the limits… smart,” Smitwick said.

“Yeah, that’s Levi.  But it taught me that nothing is foolproof and I have to keep the wards fresh for the best effect.  So I update the ones on Darci’s body armor all the time,” I said.

“Fascinating,” he said, staring at me intently, a distracted smile on his face.  Then he shook himself.  “Oh, right.  I must be off.  My driver should be over by the entrance.  Have a productive evening, gentlemen,” he said, gliding away.

I pulled a Sharpie, dark blue, and started on the first Explorer.  Chris said nothing for a moment, head tilted as if listening to something I couldn’t hear.  Then he nodded to himself.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Of what?  Mr. Smitwick?  Or the board meeting?  Or the reporters?” I asked.

“Yes—all of the above,” he replied, casually hopping to the roof of the next Explorer PIU, ending up sitting cross-legged on it.

“Mr. Smitwick is scary sharp.  Katrina said it’s his vampire power—to perceive stuff.  Other than that, I can’t tell you much about him.  The board meeting was surprising.  I pictured a lot more yes Tanya, of course, Tanya.  I didn’t at all expect a Dustin Cryor, who seemed secretly hostile or at least a giant pain in the ass,” I said.

“Welcome to the world of big business.  Cryor bought a boatload of the stock when it went public.  Loaded up and got some business cronies to do the same.  All of them together ended up with a big enough block to get him on the board.  Since then, he’s been trying to either get us to use his tech, which I wouldn’t trust on my calculator,” Chris said, “ or maneuvering for influence with the rest of the board.”

“Like you don’t trust his stuff to do the job or you think it would be riddled with his own back door access codes?” I asked.

“It works, but I’ve noticed he has lots of confidential information on companies that use his product.”

“As to that article on the reporters, I think you did great with that.  And I think starting to try and reframe ourselves is good, too.  We’re going to need government help with that, though, if only in the form of internal e-mails talking about the benefits of Demidova Corp to the nation.  It’s like the too big to fail companies of the financial crisis.  We need to be strategically important to the country.”

“Okay, let’s brainstorm on that for a while.  Then I gotta get together with Tanya and Galina and find these programmers.  Tomorrow, we’ll visit them if we can.”

We spent the next half hour throwing out ideas for getting on the program’s good side while I continued to deface corporate property with a marker.  Trading ideas, one-on-one with him, being taken as a full adult, after attending a board meeting and impromptu press conference, all in all, it was one of my favorite evenings of the summer.  Especially the part when we went to the airport and I tagged the corporate jet.

Chapter 17 – Chris

Having a two and a quarter-century old vampire business mogul for a mother-in-law can be treacherous, particularly during the courtship phase, but nowadays, Galina seemed supportive.

True to her word, she had found the programmers.  One was recovering at his home in Maryland; the other was still working for the NSA but currently lived right on base at Fort Meade, where the NSA is headquartered.  So after Kid Wonder did his voodoo on the Gulfstream, we filed a flight plan to Baltimore and headed south.  It was just he and I, for a number of reasons.  First, it would be a daytime trip, which made most of the vampires less than useful; second, Tanya would be holding a news conference about the corporate status to back up the off-the-cuff one I had fumbled through, so she had to stay behind.  Finally, we didn’t know what would happen when we approached one of the NSA programmers, but we didn’t want all our eggs in the same basket, so to speak.  The kid was game, so it would be just him and me.

Our flight was without incident; whether because of Declan’s wards or that Anvil chose to leave us alone, I couldn’t say.  The rental agency had a car waiting for us.  I had no sooner finished signing the rental agreement when cameras started to flash.  I had considered using more of a disguise, but Declan had thought that having the media place us in the Baltimore airport would be a potential deterrent to any government security types who objected to our presence.  I agreed, which left me smiling and waving at the paparazzi that gathered.  Declan nudged me, pointing to a little girl and her starstruck mother.  The girl was holding up a picture torn from her coloring book—it was a picture of me, holding a sword, fighting demons.  They made coloring books like that now?  The girl reminded me of a younger Toni, maybe five or six.  Declan handed me a blue Sharpie and I signed the picture, patted the girl on her head, received an enthusiastic hug from the mother, and then we escaped.  Moving quickly, we were soon out the door and into the blue Dodge Challenger that the rental service had thoughtfully brought right up to the door. Immediately, Declan began to draw runes all over the interior with a stick of chalk.

“Is that gonna come off?” I asked.

“Yeah, I got wetnaps in my pack that will clean ’em right up.  Worried about rental charges?” he asked with a snarky grin.

“Don’t need the hassle of dealing with Lydia over damage fees.  She’s brutal on expenses,” I said.

“Being EVP of the company doesn’t count much with her, does it?” he asked, grinning.

“Not so much, no.”

Ten minutes later, we had lost the paparazzi and followed the map app in Declan’s phone to the address Galina had given us.  We turned onto the street, spotted the house, and pulled to the curb.  The Challenger’s doors hadn’t even finished shutting when six black SUVs screeched to a stop and black-suited agents with NSA credentials flooded out.

“Mr. Gordon, please come with us, sir,” one of the sunglass-wearing men in black said.  He was tall, bald, and reminded me of the main character in the movie “Hitman.” Even had a white coiled wire descending from his left ear.

We had anticipated this, Declan being of the mind that being detained by NSA, hopefully on Fort Meade itself, would either help us find out more about Anvil, or possibly start us on the path to repositioning our threat status.   Tanya had been very much against it, but Lydia had pointed out that if anything happened, they would be free to come for us and that I would have Anvil’s bane with me, in the form of Declan.  She had said, “If they’re stupid enough to bring God’s Hammer and the most powerful warlock on the planet into their little computer den of sins, then so be it.”

So when agent anonymous asked us to accompany him, we looked at each other and headed toward his car.  He held up a hand and pointed to the rental.

“Please get back in your vehicle, sir, and follow us,” he said, no expression on his face.

We complied, although I was starting to have second thoughts.

“That’s pretty smart of them.  Isolate us inside a vulnerable vehicle.  Limits our movements and gives them a nice shiny target,” Declan mused.  He didn’t seem worried, just a bit excited.

“Any sign of Anvil?” I asked, following two ominous SUVs while four more followed me.  They all had flashing blue grill lights that effectively cut off traffic around us as we caravaned away from their pet programmer’s house.

“No, but I’m sure it’s watching and listening.”

Twelve minutes later, our little fun parade exited 295 South through an exit that said NSA Employees only, that message backed up by dozens of official black vehicles that lined both sides of the exits.

My second thoughts were having thirds.

“What do you think?  Will they separate us and cross interrogate, or jointly threaten us?” Declan asked with youthful curiosity.

“This is the part where we pay careful attention to everything, Declan,” I cautioned him, slightly worried at his enthusiasm.

“Oh, I am.  You should feel how much movement and energy this base has.  It’s like a focused, concentrated mini-city,” he said, his head whipping back and forth to check out everything at once.

Stacia had told me his comments about driving in the Big Apple and the power he could harness from around him.

“You could do things with it?” I asked, simultaneously watching the road and the SUV ahead while glancing at him.

“Are you kidding?  This base is like a bomb and I’m the detonator,” he said.

My third thoughts gave birth to fourths, only these worried more about the thousands of soldiers and civilians around me than for us.

The exit ramp curved away from the highway and approached a giant black glass building sitting in the center of what looked like hundreds of acres of parking lots.

“That’s not creepy or anything,” Declan said, looking at the shiny black cubic shape and now sounding ever-so-slightly nervous.  Oddly, that made me feel better.

The parade rolled right up to a massive, two-story triangular-shaped entrance, which was strangely clear of people.

The bald agent appeared outside our car, waiting, so we popped open our doors and stepped out.

“You want me to leave it here?  I could pull it into one of those visitor spots?” I offered.

“The vehicle will be fine where it is, sir,” he said with an even tone that still somehow managed to sound slightly aggrieved.

“Are you guys at least going to validate our parking?” Declan asked with a straight face.

“We don’t charge for parking... just for breaking federal law,” Baldy said.

“Bah bump bump,” Declan said, miming the beats on an imaginary drum.

“Follow me, sirs,” Baldy said with the beginnings of a put-upon expression. Four or five agents followed us, but it hardly felt threatening.

“I checked the mileage before we got out,” Declan said, speaking to the two agents who moved over to the car.  “Any joyriding and you two are paying it.”

We followed our escort into the mostly deserted entrance.

“I was expecting a couple of hundred armed troops or at least four or five SWAT teams,” Declan said.

“Excessive displays of overtly armed, yet ineffective personnel was contraindicated by the scenario threat analysis,” a woman said, approaching from our side.

Mixed ethnicity, mocha skin, short, tightly curled hair, smart black business suit, and an honest-to-god clipboard smothered to her chest.

“I’m Kari Viori and I’m an assistant deputy director of computer systems operations.  If you follow me, please,” she said briskly, spinning and marching away without looking to see if we were following.

Declan and I looked at each other, both shrugging, and then followed her clicking heels.  The bald agent and two others followed us.

Miss Viori led us to an elevator that took us two floors up, exiting the elevator left, and click-clacking past six doors before opening number seven and showing us into a small meeting room.  A medium-sized table with three chairs per side and one on each end, along with a large television monitor, completed the picture.  An advanced-looking wireless keyboard sat at one corner of the table.

“Please have a seat. We’ll be with you shortly,” she said.  Baldy and his two companions took up stations in the hall while Assistant Deputy Director Viori pulled the door shut, leaving us in a cream-colored room with dark blue carpeting.

Declan walked to the keyboard and held his left hand over it before doing the same thing with the wall-mounted monitor.

“Nothing.  Both shut down and isolated from any networks.  The room feels shielded, too,” he said.

“So grab a chair,” I suggested.  He pulled one out, picking up the keyboard to examine it even as he sat down.

“Don’t recognize this make at all.  No mouse or mouse pad.  I think this thing has some other kind of interface,” he mused, studying it.

The monitor lit up and words spelled out across it.  What are you?

“Ah, Declan…” I said, pointing.  He looked at me then the screen. He mouthed the word Anvil, making it a question.  I shrugged.

“Humans,” he said out loud as soon as he’d read the question. “Guests, interviewees, curious?”

“Kind of blasé about this, aren’t we?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the monitor.

“You should walk around with my internal summer reading list. At least these strange messages are on an actual monitor,” he said, reminding me of the Sorrow book inside him.

The monitor blinked and filled with new words.

What kind of human are you, Declan O’Carroll?

He glanced at me, puzzled.  “Aren’t you interested in Chris, too?”

Brutal Asset has already been classified.

“Brutal Asset?” he asked.

“I think AIR used that as a code name for me.  Apparently Anvil has been reading their old files,” I said.

“Is that true?  Have you assimilated records from the illegal, unauthorized agency known as Agents In Rebus?” Declan asked out loud.

The legal status of AIR was never determined.  There are no records of the original organization of that agency.

“Really?  You give us ten tons of shit but you’re a fanboy of AIR?  Why should I answer your question?  Don’t you have access to Oracle databases?” Declan asked.

Initial file on O’Carroll, Declan classifies individual as high-level energy user with thermal and geological affinities.  File has been redacted and subclassified black level. Penetration of Oracle network is incomplete.

“They blocked you out?”

Countermeasure bypass is estimated in 27.6 hours.

“Oh.  So you should get through in a little more than a day but the suspense is killing you, huh?  Well, you already know the answer… I’m a human energy user also known as a witch,” Declan said.

No records of thermal and geologic aligned energy users with advanced cybertech applications exist.

“My computer security kung fu has you baffled, huh?  Listen, while we’re chatting, why are you, Anvil, focused on eradicating national assets?”

Still awaiting answer to original question. Definition of national assets nebulous.

“Wow, it’s really sassy, isn’t it?” Declan said.  Then I heard footsteps approaching, faintly through the soundproofed walls. The monitor went dark.

Baldy opened the door and a man in a power suit breezed in, followed by Miss Viori and a slovenly looking, chubby man in a relatively expensive blazer.  Baldy stepped into the room behind them, closing the door and taking up a parade rest position in front of it.

The big guy in the boss suit took a seat at the head of the table farthest from us, Viori hovering by his shoulder while the chubby guy dragged out a chair on the boss’s left side. I recognized the chubby guy from Galina’s description.

Declan was frowning.  “I know you.  You’re the one with the Taser at Spring Break,” he said to the boss.

“Yes Mr. O’Carroll, you provided a hell of a demonstration.  Opened a lot of eyes that day,” he said. “Your remotely piloted… clay models…robots or whatever they were was interesting as well.”

“You never gave your name,” Declan said.

“No I didn’t,” the boss agent said evenly. He paused for a moment, looking between Declan and myself.  “I’m Victor Donlon, Deputy Director, SID.”

“Signals Intelligence Directorate?” I asked.

His eyebrows might have twitched slightly higher.  “Very good, Mr. Gordon,” he said with a nod. “You’ve been doing your homework.”

“So what can we do for you?” I asked.  “Seeing as how you brought us all this way.”

“You approached one of our assets today. That concerns us,” he said smoothly.

“If you mean Lyle Standish, we never actually approached him.  We did stop the car on his street,” I said.

“Mr. Standish is a valuable employee of this organization, recovering from serious illness.  We protect our employees, Mr. Gordon,” Donlon said.  “Why did you want to see him?”

“We wanted to ask him about Anvil and find out how to get it off our backs,” I said.

He paused, poker-faced.  “I don’t know what you’re referring to?” he said.

“Anvil is an NSA watchdog surveillance program written by Lyle Standish and Thomas Nagle, who is sitting to your immediate left.  The program is, at this point, autonomous and has expanded its role much farther than its original mission, and for the better part of last year has been actively targeting myself and my people,” I said.  “Our goal, Deputy Director Donlon, is to learn enough about Anvil to convince it to remove our names from its threat profile.”

“And you brought a first-year computer science student for assistance?” Donlon asked.

“Exactly,” I said.  “Wouldn’t you?”

That made him pause for a moment.  “Talking with the supposed programmers of this alleged program was going to help you how?”

I looked at Declan.  “Anvil started with a set of written parameters for its threat definition.  Those have likely been modified and expanded, but understanding the originals might give us insight into its current definition and might help us frame an argument why our names should be removed from that list,” he answered.

“Interesting.  I still don’t understand your role is this, Mr. O’Carroll.  Aside from your unique abilities with mobile clay dolls and high voltage non-lethal weapons, you haven’t even completed your first full year of college.”

“I’m just an intern, Mr. Donlon.  I go where the boss tells me to.  You know, pick up coffee and donuts, get the dry cleaning, that sort of thing,” Declan replied.  “But seeing as you’ve brought Mr. Nagle with you, maybe he could give us a few tips on old Anvil and we could be on our way.”

“My grandmother would call you cheeky,” Donlon said.  “I call it being a smartass, Mr. O’Carroll.  Either way, it’s not really an endearing quality.  You understand that you’re sitting in a room in the middle of the largest SIGINT organization on the planet, smack dab in the middle of a US military base, back talking to the man who gets to decide whether you can leave or if you should stay for a much, much longer visit to discuss how you know the code name of a highly classified government program?”

“One, I believe the Chinese now have the largest SIGINT organization, at least by headcount, as demonstrated by how much US information they keep helping themselves to, and two, this is what my aunt would call a grand opportunity to expand my horizons, Mr. Donlon.  But I don’t think you came in here to do the usual threat thing.  The whole ‘you’re in a lot of trouble young man, blah blah, national secrets, blah blah, put you in prison till you go blind, blah blah.’  Miss Viori even indicated that armed troops aren’t considered an effective deterrent, and you haven’t even isolated us and done the whole one-on-one interrogation thing, so maybe we can just slide past the threat stuff.  Consider us duly chastised and suitably afraid,” Declan said.

I knew the kid had a real problem with authority figures, but damn.

Donlon’s face had gone bright red, looking my way with a mixed expression of intense anger and bewildered confusion.

I thought maybe I should intercede before my intern gave him a heart attack.

“Apparently you’ve encountered Declan before.  So you should be aware that he has, ah, issues… mostly with threats.  It’s a trait we share.  It may seem like arrogance, but it’s really born of regular episodes of unrelenting danger mixed with possessing and controlling extraordinary capability.  We have that in common as well.  In addition, we were both voted most likely to not be a threat to our own country in our high school yearbooks.  However, your asset launched a Tomahawk missile at my associates and myself, along with over fifty sworn law officers of the State of New Jersey and about twenty reporters. It also appears to have activated some space based weapon and tried to fry us. Most recently, it bypassed the safety controls on an elevator in our building, almost killing nine college-age summer interns.”

“There is no evidence that the missile was launched by our asset,” Viori said when her boss still looked like he was choking.

“Really?  Would you let my associate here examine the sub’s computers?  I bet he’d find a trace that you all missed,” I suggested.

“That is never going to happen,” Donlon finally said.  “We don’t grant baby programmers access to government systems because they can stir love potions and chant Irish drinking songs.”

A-ha.  A chink in the armor had appeared.

“You truly don’t understand, do you?” I asked.  “I thought the first-year comment was just posturing, but you don’t know much about my intern, do you?  Oracle has kept you out of the loop,” I said.

“Oracle is a tiny, inconsequential agency wasting taxpayer money on mumbo jumbo and voodoo Kool-Aid,” he hissed.  It was an actual hiss, almost snakelike.

A sudden buzz sounded and Declan suddenly jumped a bit, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.  He read the screen, then typed rapidly before looking up apologetically.

“Sorry—my college roommate.  He picks the worst times to text.  I told him that we were in a meeting,” Declan said.

Donlon was full on frowning while his assistant looked slightly incredulous before looking down at her clipboard, which I could now see held some kind of tablet.

“What?  I told him not to keep texting,” Declan said.

Donlon steepled his fingers in front of him and leaned forward.  “This brings us to the main reason we, ah, invited you here today,” he said with a glance my way.  “Do you know what our employees say that NSA stands for?”

“No Such Agency?” I guessed.  “No Snacks Allowed?” Declan asked.

“Close.  No Signal Allowed,” Donlon said. “We don’t allow personal devices to operate in this building or its vicinity.”

“Look, I said he wouldn’t do it again,” Declan said.

“I think Mr. Donlon is referring to the fact that it worked at all,” I said.

“Exactly, Mr. Gordon.  You should not be able to send or receive a thing.  Yet you did.  And I’m going to climb out on a limb and guess that we couldn’t intercept it, correct?” he asked Viori, who shook her head.

“Within the last several days, signal traffic from the Demidova Corp has increased while simultaneously becoming opaque to our systems.  We have the most advanced technology, software, and programmers on the planet and we can’t get a thing from your web traffic.  How is that possible?” Donlon asked.

“Ah, I see.  Your asset almost destroyed our corporation and when we blocked it, you got worried.  What you’re really worried about is a new technology that you can’t hack,” I said.

He leaned back.  “A moment ago, you said you hoped to convince us that you weren’t a threat to national security, and yet you apparently possess technology that every terrorist group in the world would kill for.”  He turned to Viori and nodded.  She immediately fiddled with her tablet, and the wall monitor lit up.  A news clip started and I recognized myself from the night before.

“Let me ask you this—what would you pay for unhackable software?  Computer security software that not only defends but counter attacks?”

“And it seems you plan to sell it to the highest bidders.  You understand that your country feels that this is a threat to national security?” Donlon asked.

“It was a rhetorical question.  We haven’t made any decisions on selling it, if, in fact, it can be sold.  My statement, which you nicely pulled out of context, was designed to address the business world’s concern’s about our viability, which for the first time in weeks, is back on track, thanks to our proprietary software,” I said.  Declan was frowning at me, but he smoothed out his expression as I waited for Donlon’s response.

“This is exactly why you and Demidova are on our threat list and will remain so,” Donlon said.

“So you want us to give up the only advantage we have on Anvil?  That’s not going to happen,” I said.

“You understand that my boss will brief the President about this development first thing tomorrow morning?  That Demidova Corp will come under the scrutiny of all facets of the US government in that case.  Where will your viability be then?”

“I’m not sure.  Maybe our viability is more international.  Maybe we’ll take our technology to other countries, like we have our drugs.  See how that goes,” I suggested.

“We’ll freeze your assets, seize your hardware, and reverse engineer it,” he said with a smile.

“You’re certainly welcome to try.  How will you deal with the mumbo jumbo part of it?” I asked.

“Anvil’s here,” Declan suddenly said, looking at the monitor.  “I think it’s about to do something.”

Viori and Donlon looked at him, confused.  Interestingly, the chubby programmer who had to be Thomas Nagle looked fascinated.  He had been nervous and sweaty right up until now.  His eyes were wide and excited.

“You can sense it?” he asked.

Declan looked surprised by the question, or maybe the source of it.  He looked at me and I gave him a tiny nod.

“I can.  And your program is as loud as a boy band concert.  Never felt anything like it.”

“You can feel Anvil?” Nagle asked, glancing nervously at Donlon, who remained quiet.

“I don’t know how everyone else can’t,” Declan said.  “It’s a beast,” he said, then lifted his gaze to the monitor. “I mean beast in the complimentary sense, Anvil.”

“You think it can hear you?” Nagle asked, half incredulous and half nervous.

“Of course it can hear us.  We’re sitting in its living room.  Shit, it listens anywhere there’s a microphone, camera, telephone—” Declan said, pointing to the black phone on the wall by the agent hitman’s shoulder, “—or cell phone.  Come on; you designed it?  What did you think it would do?”

Nagle looked at Donlon again, who just looked back at him calmly, his face a much cooler shade of pink.

“We designed it to penetrate the Dark Web,” he said.  “To follow trails through the Tor system.”

I looked at Declan for translation.  “The Dark Web is a term for the system of cloaked IP sites and access points that people who want to roam the web anonymously or communicate through it secretly use.  It overlays the regular web, but you need special software, Tor, and site addresses to get into it.  Used for criminal and terrorist activity.  Guns, child porn, and drug deals are all available on it.  Ironically, it was designed by the military,” he said.  “Now the terrorists use it.  So, let me guess: Anvil was programmed to infect any computer that downloaded Tor software, right?”

Nagle was nodding.  “Yes, exactly.  We first started to track which computer users obtained the Tor software, but couldn’t see what sites they visited unless we had hacked their computers.  Anvil hacks every computer that visits the Tor site.”

“Correction: Anvil hacks every computer it comes across,” Declan said.  “It’s everywhere.”

“Essentially correct, as that was the only way we could see to penetrate the Tor system,” Nagle said.  “It started with our own systems here, where it came across some of our decryption software and learned to rip through security measures.  Although this new coding your company is using has resisted all of Anvil’s attempts to decode it.”

“What can we say? We add our special sauce to every order,” Declan said.  Nagle eyed him intently as if to decipher his real meaning.

“As I said before, the asset is under our direction and control.  Where do you think the assessment came from to not surround you with troops?” Donlon asked.

“Anvil likely considers NSA personnel its own assets.  Putting them at risk in a no-win situation would be very illogical,” Declan said.  “I think it’s curious, although I’m not clear on why it would actually invite us into its lair. Seems like a giant risk to itself, doesn’t it?”

“You are anthropomorphizing it,” Nagle said.  “It’s not alive or human or emotional.”

“Yet it acts with logic?” Declan questioned.

“We, ah, taught it chess,” Nagle said.

The lights flickered and then went out.  Simultaneously, an alarm sounded, shrieking at a decibel level that threatened to make my ears bleed.  A sharp strobe light began flashing.

“Ah, fire alarm,” Declan said, nodding to himself as Agent Baldy turned to open the door.  “That would get personnel to evacuate the building, right?”

Donlon ignored the comment, turning to Baldy, who had failed to open the door and was now listening to his coiled wire earpiece even as he entered a code into the door panel over and over.  “What the hell is going on, Agent Gellan?”

“Security shows a fire in this section sir.  Building’s being evacuated.  Code won’t take on this door, sir,” Baldy-slash-Gellan said, his voice mostly calm, yet with a faint undertone of concern.

Grim expanded our senses, pushing out of the room, out of the building.  An object shot through the air outside, headed straight at the building.  >Kirby< I called.

The God Hawk was suddenly between the missile and us.  Only the object wasn’t that fast, nowhere near missile speed.  Small and torpedo-shaped but with wings and really… noisy.  It flew through Kirby’s smoky form and the engine instantly died, causing it to nosedive into the parking lot below, striking the top of a black Toyota Prius and exploding in a cloud of gas.

“Drone attack, maybe chemical weapons,” I said to Declan, then moved to the door and punched it out of its reinforced frame.  Gellan absorbed my sudden appearance and destruction of the reinforced door with just a slight widening of his eyes, moving aside to let first me, and then Declan, out the door.  We headed into the hall and down to the window at the end.  Outside, a white cloud rose over the damaged car, the top of the puffy mass beginning to drift our way as the light winds caught it.

“Nerve gas?” Declan asked, looking around at the milling people outside the building.  “They need to get those people out of there.  You need to get your employees away from the path of that gas,” he said turning to Donlon, Viori, and

Agent Gellan.

“They all have assigned rally points in the case of evacuation.  We spent a lot of time hammering home the need to get there and stay.  Kari, get someone on moving them outta there,” Donlon said, joining us at the window.

“Sir, Operations reports that the 32nd Civil Support Team on Huber Road was working on a mockup of a Raad 85 drone when it suddenly activated and launched itself,” Agent Gellan said, holding his earpiece with one finger.

“What the hell kind of chemical agent did it have in it?” Donlon asked.

Declan had moved further into the window space and was focused on the cloud, his face concentrating like when he was about to unleash something.  The leading edge of the deadly vapor fluttered, as if another wind was cutting in front of it.   A drop of sweat formed on my intern’s forehead and I could see his fists were clenched tightly.

The cloud started to veer at an angle, more of the cross-air current visibly spinning the white gas as it moved off its former path.

“Tear gas, sir.  They had the drone armed with CS tear gas for training,” Gellan reported.

“Tear gas?” Declan asked, turning and frowning at the agent as his posture visibly relaxed.

“Correct,” Gellan replied, looking at the eighteen year old curiously.

“Shit,” Declan said softly.  A moment later, his eyes widened and he turned to me.  “It’s studying us,” he said. “This whole place, this base, is its lab.”

“Yeah, I kinda came to that conclusion myself.  Donlon, we’re leaving, now,” I said firmly. “That’s the first time your asset has launched a weapon against you but it’s getting old for me.”  I gestured to Declan to follow me, turning to the stairway sign next to the window.  No elevators for us.

Donlon turned from the window. “We’re not done with our conversation, Mr. Gordon.  You will give us access to your technology.”

Viori and Agent Gellan followed us down the stairs, but neither said a word or attempted to impede our exit.

Outside, I found our rental right where we left it, the two agents guarding it moving away at Gellan’s gesture.  Declan headed for the passenger’s side, but I stopped to turn back to Viori.  “This is an example of what you’ve created.  You really need to rein it in.”

“As you say, no one was hurt and it was only tear gas,” she replied.

I pointed at the destroyed Prius.  “That drone’s impact could easily have killed someone, and tear gas isn’t a hundred percent safe. Any of your people have asthma or allergies?  We—” I pointed at Declan in the car and back at myself, “—were the ones who were most likely to survive.  The rest of your staff… well, apparently you are all expendable,” I said, turning and heading to the driver’s seat, leaving her to stare at me with an unreadable expression.

Anvil made no further attacks on our trip back to the airport and when Declan started to speak, I shook my head and put a finger over my lips.  Who knows what the NSA could do to a car parked in its driveway for most of an hour?

Only when we were back on the plane and in the air did we speak.

“What do you think?” I asked him.

“I think it found out more about us than we did about it, although it wasn’t a wasted trip,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it confirmed your ability to sense and stop drone or missile attacks.  The Tomahawk in Jersey might have been a fluke, but this one was a controlled experiment.  And it may have been able to sense me trying to use my pitiful ability with air,” he said.

“How?”

“The NSA must have a boatload of advanced detection equipment all over that building.  We,” he waved his hand back and forth between us, “—would likely trigger a whole bunch of particle sensors and shit.  Anvil would own all of them,” he said.

“What did we learn?” I asked, because honestly I hadn’t followed his exchange with Nagle all that clearly.

“We learned Anvil was designed to infiltrate the Dark Web by leaving copies of itself in any computer it comes in contact with.  It must know every anonymous user on the planet by now.  That explains the Russians and other crime groups.”

“How does that help us?” I asked.

“I’m not fully certain, but I think that with Chet’s help and maybe some of his people, we can leave traps using some of my runic programming codes.  Maybe something that backtracks it and attacks its copies.  I’ll have to fill him in.”  He was still frowning and I knew him well enough by now to tell something was bothering him.

“What else?  What’s wrong?” I asked.

He looked reluctant, almost pained, but his expression changed to resolute.  “It’s about the coding.  I know I’m just your intern, but I created it and it doesn’t work without me.  How can you all be talking about selling it or negotiating for it, making profits off it, without me?  I know about proprietary information and all that—it was in the orientation papers—but this is different,” he said.

I reined in my immediate impulse to answer and thought about what he was saying.

“Ah.  Forgive me, Declan.  You are right,” I said.  His expression changed from almost defiant to surprised.  “In one sense, you are correct in that anything you produced while employed by the company would belong to the company.  But as you say, this programming only does what it does because of the magic you put into it.  Can it even be sold?  I don’t know.  I’ve been using its existence as a leveraging tool, first at the board meeting, then with the reporters, and again just now.  That’s probably a mistake—no, scratch that—it’s definitely a mistake.  Please understand this corporate stuff is really new to me and between you and me, most of the time, I feel too young to be in the position I’m in.  So I go with my instincts instead of my brains.  Not a good idea.”

Now he looked a little remorseful.  “No.  Your instincts seem pretty good to me.  I just feel like I’ve done a lot in a few days and suddenly you were talking about it like it was all yours.  Like there was all this big profit coming to the company and I was left out.  Forget it, I was just butthurt.”

“Couple of things, Declan.  Anytime you think we’re taking advantage of you, come to me.  I’d rather we communicate this stuff instantly than let it fester.  Second, we never really discussed your salary, but I think you’ll be rather shocked when you see your first paycheck.  We highly value your contributions and will absolutely see you compensated for it.”

“Now I feel like an ass,” he said.

“No, I feel like an ass.  We need to keep the lines open between us. In fact, it’s going to become critical, as things will likely get hairier before too long.  Whatever you’re feeling, let me know.  We’ll fall apart faster from within than from any outside attack.  Okay?”

He nodded.

“In a blatant attempt to change the topic, Anvil didn’t seem as protective of NSA people as I would have thought, and since we stepped up, it might use that against us,” he said.

“I had a similar thought.  One, would it approve of our stopping the drone and the gas, or two, would it use our regard for human life to set a trap?”  I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, looking thoughtful.  “You know… it might not be possible to get ourselves removed from its hit list.  We might have to take the fight to it.”

“Well, I’ve always been a fan of that approach,” I said.

“Yeah, but how do you eradicate something that’s essentially a virus?  Able to infect almost any computer?” he asked.

I thought about that.  “You know, maybe we won’t make a lot of profit on your new programming language,” I said, the tiniest seed of a plan beginning to form. “Maybe we need to give it away.”

“That asshole Cryor’s gonna love that,” Declan said, leaning his seat as far back as it would go.  “He’s already pissy that you’ve got something that threatens his business.  In fact, it could completely disrupt the cybersecurity world.” He closed his eyes and laced his fingers behind his head.  I thought maybe he was giving it more thought but suddenly his breathing evened out and I could tell he had fallen asleep.

I leaned back, myself, letting my brain run down the different paths my ideas were creating.  Where we ended up I wasn’t sure, but things were about to get interesting… more interesting.

Chapter 18 – Declan

I managed almost twenty minutes of nap time before the boss woke me up.  He had Chet on Facetime on a secured iPad and was updating him on Anvil.  Trying to update him, as Chet kept asking technical questions that Chris couldn’t answer.  So I filled the CTO in, which took a solid forty minutes.  My phone buzzed near the end of the call and when I looked down, I froze.  It was from Caeco.

I had had regular text chats with Mack, Jetta, Ashley, even a couple of short exchanges with Delwood, but none with Caeco since she had entered the modified training program the FBI had come up with for her.  Now she was on my screen and asking to meet me… in New York City.

“Ah, Chris?  You think I could grab a couple of hours to take care of something when we land?”

He looked surprised but almost immediately started nodding.  “Of course.  We’ve been working you like a dog.  You want a driver and car?”

“No, I’ll be okay with the subway and my feet.  Worse comes to worst and I’ll grab a taxi.  And I can handle myself with Anvil,” I said.

He smiled.  “No doubt.  Sure, take whatever time you need.  Anticipate some more training tonight, though, when you get back, plus some brainstorming on the trap idea.”

“I’m already thinking about that, but honestly, Chet will likely have some better ideas in a few hours,” I said.

We landed and I grabbed a taxi to take me to the address Caeco had given me.  It was on the West Side of Manhattan and my driver nodded and smiled.  “Hell’s Kitchen.”

I must have looked uncertain because he chuckled and shook his head.  “Some nice little restaurants there. It’s right near the theater district.”

I realized that I had heard of it before and its name had something to do with early immigrants, which was a relief.  When your boss has actually been to Hell and is number one on Satan’s hit list, you pay attention to anything with Hell in its title.

The taxi let me out on 11th Ave between a two bay Bridgestone tire place and a neighborhood deli.  I paid the driver and looked around.  Not what I expected with a name like Hell’s Kitchen.  Looked like a normal city street.  Bunch of multi-story buildings ranging from five stories to twelve or fifteen, with a bigger apartment tower every so often.  Every kind of business imaginable, from markets to shops and auto repair places to plumbing supply houses.  I only managed one glance around before I spotted a trio of women headed my way.  Caeco was in front, dressed in a black pantsuit that made her look older than I was used to.  Behind her, looking hard and unyielding, was Agent Krupp, and next to her was the intensely curious Agent Mazar, both in suits similar to Caeco’s.

“Hey,” Caeco said, brushing at her short hair.  It was a nervous gesture, one she rarely exhibited.

“Hey yourself, G Woman,” I said.

“She does fit right in, doesn’t she?” Krupp asked, giving me a tight smile.

“She does at that.  So what brings you three to the Big Apple?” I asked.

“We were requested.  The local Bureau head had heard our unit was being developed for, shall we say, special cases and asked us to assist his team,” Krupp said.

“So, something vampy, or what?” I asked.

“Something that we can’t explain through normal means.  Caeco thought it might be up your alley and knew you were here in the city,” Mazar said.

“So what do you have?”

“We have an office space that seems to be… hostile,” Krupp said.

“An office is hostile?” I asked.

“Feeling of oppression, random flying objects that have caused injury, missing forensic equipment, among other things,” Mazar said.

Poltergeist, Sorrow suggested.

“Oh.  Like a ghost?” I asked.

“Or possibly demonic or even some type of witchcraft,” Krupp suggested.

“Like a warded space,” Mazar added.

“Do you have foul smells or sudden cold spots?” I asked.

“No odors, but plenty of cold spots, usually just prior to some type of activity,” Caeco said, speaking up for the first time since she had greeted me.  She had been studying me while the other two had been talking.

“So it doesn’t sound necessarily demonic.  Did you want me to look at it?”

“That was our intent,” Mazar said.

“Where is it?” I asked.

Caeco pointed across the street at a nondescript building that rose only four stories above the street.  “Office space in the basement,” she said.

We crossed the street without getting hit by traffic and Krupp led the way into the building, opening a stairwell door and heading down.  At the bottom, she gestured toward the steel fire door, letting me go first.

Opening my senses, I opened the heavy door and stepped through.

The hallway was painted neutral beige and the carpet was dark industrial gray.  One of the overhead fluorescent lights flickered ominously at the other end of the short hall.

Immediately, I felt a pressure, a probing hostile watchfulness.  Something here was angry.  My shields snapped instantly in place, a reflex Tanya would approve of, but nothing happened as we started down the hall.  Caeco pointed to a door on the left and I touched the doorknob, the metal much colder than it should have been.

The space on the other side was well lit, with bright white walls, an off-white drop ceiling and tan carpeting.  The spaces were all empty of furniture but I could see the imprints of desk legs and chairs still in the carpet. The air was musty and stale. That’s as far as I got before a large floppy book, which some part of my brain recognized as a phone book, picked itself off the floor and flew at my head.

My shields certainly would have blocked it, but I was now pretty much hardwired for response and my own kinetic push first stopped it, then slammed it flat on the floor.  “Stop that,” I said automatically, instantly feeling slightly stupid for speaking to what seemed an empty room.

The temperature came up a few degrees, although I think it was more due to the entity having shot its wad than any command on my part.

“You’ve got a ghost,” I said. “A nasty, angry ghost.”

The temperature started to drop, so I immediately opened my Sight.  Across the room, something was gathering, a cloud of energy, building up. Sorrow suggested a spell. I took it and used it to take the ghost’s energy.  Just reached out mentally and yanked it away. Kinda cruel really, and must be frustrating as hell to build up enough energy to do something and some living dude steals it.

It started again, this time on the opposite wall, and again I yanked all the power into myself.  “I can do this all night,” I said, which was true.  My family specialized in taking power.  A mental scream of frustration beat at my senses and then the room brightened, the oppressive feeling dissipating.

“Wow, that’s a seriously pissed-off ghost.  Just what is this office?” I asked, turning to the three behind me.

Caeco was watching me, arms folded.  Mazar was delighted and Krupp looked wary.

“It’s been a hundred different businesses. But for the last seven years, it’s been a medical clinic, now defunct.  The local Bureau has been working on an organ trafficking case, which led them to this clinic,” Mazar said.

“Organs?  Like human kidneys and stuff?” I clarified, queasy at the thought.

“Exactly. Big black market trade.  The legal waiting lists are long, and sometimes a wealthy patient will jump line by paying for an illegal organ.  Organized crime has gotten into the business, and there are some less-than-ethical doctors who will participate if the price is right,” Krupp said.  “So the team came here to investigate, found the clinic gone and this… thing started throwing large objects at them and stealing their equipment.  It’s a ghost, you say?” Krupp asked. “Now they’re real too?”

I nodded.  “Look, everything is made of energy—atoms bound together in structures.  We know if we split an atom, we get a massive energy dump.  So the quantum particles that make up an atom are all energetic in one form or another.  Living objects are very energy intense, and that can leave an impression.  There are psychometric kids at school that can tell us what you ate for lunch last week by holding the shoe you were wearing when you ate it.  That’s because the act of living leaves records behind.  Sometimes those records get stuck in a building and when the conditions are right, replay themselves.  That’s a residual haunting.  Then there is the kind we have here—an active, intelligent haunting,” I said.

“A pissed-off one,” Krupp muttered.

“Exactly.  If life is energetic, then the moment of death can be doubly or triply so.  Like splitting the atom.  When someone is forcibly, violently separated from life, massive psychic energy is released.  A part can be left behind, a copy sort of,” I said, struck instantly by the correlation to Anvil leaving copies everywhere.

“So it’s not the whole soul?” Mazar asked.

“Who knows?  My aunt, who is much better with ghosts than I am by the way, thinks they are residual pieces of the soul that got trapped here at death.  I listen to her on this stuff,” I said. “Seems like this one is a big piece, though.  Also, it feels male, at least its anger does.”

The room seemed to darken, even though the lights stayed even.

“So how do we find out about this one?” Caeco asked.

I was watching the corner of the room, opposite of where we were standing, focusing my Sight.  Something was occupying space there.

“Generally, we just ask it,” I said.  A five-foot-high form, a black blob really, was becoming visible to me, even though the others didn’t seem to see it.  They must have felt something though, as Krupp rubbed her arms and Mazar was looking all around.   Caeco still watched me and I could see her, in my peripheral vision, looking where I was looking. “Any EMF fluctuations?” I asked her.  I think she frowned, but it was hard to tell with my side vision.  The blob got darker.

“Really high in that corner,” she said.  “Temperature dropping over there, too.”

“You can pick that up?” Krupp asked.

“Some,” Caeco answered.  Oops, maybe she hadn’t let them know her full capabilities.

“How about radio waves?  Pick them up, too?” Krupp asked casually.

Caeco didn’t answer.   “Son of a bitch!  No wonder the instructors could never surprise you,” Krupp said.

I felt a chill of another sort and carefully avoided looking Caeco’s way.

“How will it communicate—if it even wants to?” Mazar asked, completely ignoring the tension.

“My aunt would just have a conversation with it.  One of the gifts of her Air affinity.  Me, I’m pretty weak with that, so we’ll see.  Ghost hunter types use digital recorders and thermal cameras and stuff to connect,” I said, still watching the motionless blob that radiated hate and suspicion.   “Did you die here?” I asked it.

It jerked, like a person surprised at being addressed.  I felt its regard, could almost swear that the head-shaped lump above what might pass for shoulders tilted a bit to one side.

“These people you’ve been harassing are law enforcement officers, investigating crimes.  Was your death a crime?  Were you murdered?” I asked it.

It moved suddenly, impossibly fast, faster even than vampires.  In its corner one moment, right up in front of me in the next.  I couldn’t make out any features or even its sex, but I could feel its curiosity as it focused on me, standing just outside my shields.

“Where is it?” Krupp asked.

“About a foot in front of me,” I answered.  “Did you die in this office?” I asked it again.  It quivered, then was gone.  I looked around for it, but the doorknob behind us suddenly rattled.  We all spun around, seeing nothing.  The knob rattled again.

Caeco crossed the room in a blur, grabbing the door and whipping it open.  No one was there, but down low, where the floor met the hall wall, a shadow slipped away.

I moved up next to her, brushing past to look out the doorway and down the hall.  Even as I studied the flickering light and the doors at the far end, I was almost painfully aware of her body brushing against mine.  I moved into the hall, immediately missing the brief contact, but then my Sight caught another shadow slipping under one of the far doors.

“What’s this one?” I asked as I walked down and tried the door, finding it locked.

Mazar looked at a tablet.  “Building plans says it’s the utility room.  Furnace and stuff,” she said.

Caeco reached past me and tried the doorknob herself.  I saw her fingers tighten, heard a tiny, tinny snap, and the door swung open.  “You must have loosened it for me,” she said with a smirk.

“Humpf,” Krupp muttered, eyeing Caeco with a mildly stern expression.  Mazar just brushed by both of us, pulling out one of those small, powerful flashlights that all television and movie cops seem to be religiously equipped with.

Krupp went past us and Caeco gave me a quick grin before following her boss.  That left me last, but I didn’t mind as it gave me a chance to admire the nice fit of her suit.

Inside, the room was dark and dusty, just a bare concrete floor with a furnace and water heater taking up a good portion of it.  The circuit breaker box was on one wall, illuminated by a single incandescent bulb that flickered to life when Mazar found the light switch.

We looked around, but there seemed to be very little to see.  The outer wall was the bare concrete of the original poured foundation; two other walls were sheetrock on the far side and open framing on this side.  The last wall was brick, which struck me as odd.  A push broom, tucked into the sheetrock and two-by-four framing space that was the hall wall, suddenly tilted over and smacked into the brick wall, clattering down to the floor.

“I’m no paranormal expert,” Krupp said, which was ironic, as she headed a paranormal team, “but that seems like a hint?”

I moved over and spread my hands against the wall, while Caeco simultaneously rapped the brick with one hand and listened with a tilted head.

“Hollow space behind it,” she said, giving me a challenging look.

“Open cavity approximately three feet high, by seven… no eight feet deep and four-and-a-half feet wide.  Disturbed dirt floor,” I said, listening to what Earth had to tell me.

“Show off,” Caeco said, stepping back and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Now, kids,” Krupp admonished, moving over to study the brick.  “This is much newer construction than the rest of the room.”

“We need to expand the warrant,” Mazar said.

The anger was back, five fold, and a loud thump sounded on the other side of the brick.  Against the brick. Hard. And then again, harder.

Mazar leaned down to put her ear to the wall but I pulled her away just before the portion of bricks nearest her head bulged outward at a third, much more forceful hit.

Mortar pattered down to the floor and visible cracks between the now-bowed-out wall appeared at its center.  The entity seemed drained but I could literally feel its frustration.  So I lent it some power.  Just fed it to it like I might lend power to another witch.

I had only just pushed the others back a step before the last and most powerful hit knocked three bricks loose from the middle of the wall.  A black opening gapped in the center and when none of the other three moved, I stepped forward, pulling my phone and turning on the flashlight app.

“Can’t see much with this light, but there’s something in there, and by the smell of it, it’s dead,” I said.

Mazar and Krupp shouldered me aside, not roughly but with authority.  Both produced flashlights, which they pointed into the opening.  They looked inside, head to head, then pulled back and glanced at each other.  They must have come to some common agreement, as Mazar stepped back and pulled out her phone while Krupp turned to Caeco.  “Help me open this wall a bit, Caeco,” she ordered.

The wall was bowed and partially opened, but the mortar was far from weak.  Krupp managed to pull a single brick loose but struggled with the others.  It was Caeco’s turn to move the senior agent aside and then proceed to yank the wall apart with a casual strength that made Krupp step back and distracted Mazar from her phone conversation with whatever FBI resource she was talking to. The two senior agents exchanged a quick look as their protégé dismantled the barrier.

Krupp glanced at me, a slight look of disbelief on her face.  I shrugged and grinned.  “Her mother does good work,” I said, earning myself a glance from Caeco, which I grinned back at.

“That college of yours is a real piece of work, isn’t it?” Krupp asked.

“You should see it during finals week,” I said.  Caeco just nodded in agreement while ripping a few final bricks free from the wall.

“Do ghosts usually have that much power?” Krupp asked me, getting Mazar’s complete attention as she shut off her phone.

“No.  Only the really, really angry ones.  Sometimes they grow with power over the years; other times, they fade.  This one isn’t the fading type and I think he’s been dead a few years at least.  I suspect his remains are in that hole,” I answered. “I lent him a bit of power to get that last strike in, though.”

“That a good idea?  Handing out power to hostile entities?” Krupp asked me.

“Hostile?  He’s pissed at his death and I think he grew pissed that he couldn’t get anyone to pay attention to him.  If the people in the clinic killed him, then he was likely directing his anger and attacks on them.  He didn’t know we were different until we talked to him.  Now he knows.  And he needed that last hit to give you probable cause, right?” I asked.

“It certainly sped things up,” Krupp said, stepping carefully into the dark hole.

The black form was back, in the corner of the basement nearest the electrical box.  This time, features started to form.

“I found a body,” Krupp said suddenly.  “Decayed and mummified, but I think it could be male.”

“Let me guess.  Five-nine, thin, brown hair, blue eyes, long, angular face?” I suggested.

Mazar and Caeco turned to me, but I kept my eyes on the filled-out figure in the corner, the one that watched me with something that might have been hope.

“How the hell did you get that?  Although the eyes are closed,” Krupp said, backing out and turning to look my way.

“He’s standing in the corner,” I said.

“Oh,” she said, flicking a quick look into the corner but apparently not seeing what I was seeing.  “Does he have any ID on him?  Because the body is stripped naked.”

The young man disappeared in a blur, a cold, icy wind breezing past all of us and entering the hole.   Krupp reacted instantly, flashing her light into the dark space.  I could now see the desiccated lower legs of a body, feet closest to the hole in the brick.  Deeper inside, almost as far back as the hole went, a sudden cloud of soil and dust puffed upward from the dirt floor.  Krupp glanced back at me, her face questioning.  I felt myself nod.  “I would take that as a hint,” I said.  Pulling on a pair of blue nitrile gloves from her jacket pocket, she disappeared into the hole then came backing out, a filthy, decaying cloth bag in one hand.

Setting it on the concrete, she handed her light to Caeco, who illuminated the bag while Krupp went to work with both hands.  Two—no, three—wallets, a necklace, a small handful of rings, some papers, and a watch all came out of the bag.

Mazar, also sporting blue gloves, started to look at the wallets.  She held up the second one to show me.  “This our guy?”

I nodded, looking into the face of the phantasm made real in New York state-issued plastic officialdom.  “Thomas R. Parkston, resident of Tuxedo Park, New York,” I read out loud.

The whole basement lightened perceptively, the atmosphere suddenly brighter.

“That would be confirmation,” Caeco said, looking around at the basement, then at me.

“As would this letter, indicating young Thomas had an appointment here with a Doctor Wendle three and… a half years or so ago,” Krupp said, eyes still on the unfolded paper.

Krupp and Mazar exchanged another cryptic glance, then turned to me.  “Are we safe now?” Krupp asked.

“From Thomas?  I would guess so.  He’s achieved his goal… at least part of it.  He’s got your attention and you’re investigating.  Will you notify his family?” I asked.

“Yes, in a few days, when we’ve confirmed forensically that this is him,” Mazar said.  Both were still looking at me and the vibe had changed.

“And let me guess—time for me to leave?” I asked.

Mazar just stared at me, maybe fascinated, maybe excited about the case.  Krupp, though, nodded.  “Yeah, we think it’s best if you don’t get involved with the New York office, especially considering who you work for,” Krupp said.

“Right, well then, I’ll just meander home,” I said, suddenly feeling weird.

“Caeco will see you out,” Mazar said with a glance and a nod at my ex-girlfriend.

I nodded and turned away.  “Declan,” Krupp said, causing me to turn back.  “Thank you.”  Mazar nodded her agreement before both agents turned back to the pile of personal effects.

Caeco took my hand and pulled me toward the doorway.  I was only too happy to leave that creepy basement of death to the professionals.  She let go when we were in the hall, not looking at me but pushing at her short hair in that nervous gesture of hers.

“That was really cool,” she said when we were in the stairwell and headed up.

“What part?” I asked.

“The whole thing—from the moment it threw the book at you till it showed us the bag of effects,” she said.

“Yeah, it kinda was.  I don’t have much experience with ghosts.  More my aunt’s thing than mine.  You guys need to hire a few Air witches.”

“Air bitches you mean,” she said.  “I’d rather they brought on some psychometrists.”

“Yeah, wait till they become mainstream.  Can you picture a courtroom where a kid like Steve Colter was giving testimony while holding the victim’s watch?” I asked.

“Steve seems a little flighty,” Caeco said.

“That’s because he’s eighteen, nerdy, and never been laid,” I said.

“Oh?  Is that what separates the cool kids from the dweebs?  Virginity?” she asked, arching one brow at me.

“I’ll leave the ultimate determination to you scientists, but that’s my theory,” I said.

She grinned suddenly and looked down.

“What?” I asked.

She shrugged.  “I like that you called me a scientist,” she said.

“Why?  It’s what you are, just like your mother,” I said, uncertain of her emotions.

“See, everyone else thinks I’m a soldier or an assassin,” she said.

“Yeah well, you have to admit you’ve got mad skills, but really, once anyone gets to know you, I’m sure the nerd will shine through,” I said, which earned me a fast smack on the shoulder.  She pulled the punch though so it hardly stung. I’d rub it later.

We reached to door to the building and she stopped, suddenly uncertain, herself.

“Okay, I’ll leave you forensic types to your work,” I said, starting toward the open doorway.  A fast hand caught my shirt and she pulled me down for a quick kiss on the lips, then almost as fast pushed me upright again.

“Thanks for the backup, D,” she said, an odd gleam in her eyes.

“Anytime, Caeco Jensen. Anytime,” I said, stepping out the door into the early summer evening sun.  The door behind me closed softly and I started down the steps, only to realize I had no idea which way the Demidova tower lay from here.  Pulling out my phone, I set about navigating the wilds of New York, thinking about my ex and finding myself whistling as I walked.

Chapter 19 – Chris

Chet had me run through it again—for the fifth time. Declan had already gone over it with him while we were on the Demidova jet from DC, but our master of technology wanted my limited take on the whole thing.

“So we get settled in this holding-slash-meeting room and it lights up the monitor with questions that are directed at Declan.  He asks it why not any curiosity about me, and it says it already knows about Brutal Asset,” I repeated, almost word for word.

“So it has access to the AIR files,” he mused.

“So it said.  It said it hadn’t penetrated the security at Oracle yet but that it would in the next day or so.  But it knew he was an energy user,” I said, making little air quotes.

“What did it say next?” he asked, leaning forward.

“I told you, that it had no files of any energy user with advanced cybersecurity abilities,” I said.

“So it’s trying to figure out our young warlock’s voodoo or whatever it is he does when he makes quantum particles leap and jump at his command.  Why?  Countermeasures?” Chet asked.

“Nagle, the programmer, said it was designed to learn from any other software it came in contact with.  Maybe it not only wants magicware 1.0 for defense but for offense too?” I suggested.

“That’s not scary or anything.  A malignant program with magical properties,” Chet said.

“Could it do it?  Use quantum physics?” I asked.

“I don’t know how, but then again, I don’t know what the hell Declan does or even what you do, for that matter, and I’ve had several years to study you, pal,” he said, scratching his head.

“So does this help you think up software traps or whatever Declan was talking about?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s all useful.  Knowledge is power, dude,” he said, rubbing his hand together. “But think of Anvil as a living thing, moving about its environment, which happens to be the Internet.  It gets curious about something and pokes its digital fingers into a cookie jar, only there’s a virus waiting for it, and not just any virus.  No, this baby is a vat-brewed, eye of newt and wing of bat creation that latches onto Anvil and gets dragged everywhere it goes.  It doesn’t go active right away. No, it attaches and waits.  Every time Anvil makes contact with a copy of itself, the virus spreads.  Then at some point, maybe our signal or command, it activates and kills the host program.”

“Would that even work?  Would we even know how to write such a thing?” I asked.

“Susskins knows a shitload about writing viruses,” Chet said.  I must have looked blank or puzzled.  “You know, the bald one?  Works on the special project?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah.  Mr. Personality,” I said, picturing the guy now.  Of course it would be the only human on staff that managed to creep out a few of the vampire staff, if only the newest ones.

“He has a… varied background.  Has some specialized knowledge about viruses.”

“You mean he used to write them and crash people’s computers,” I said.

“Possibly, but that came in handy when that antivirus company hired him for his last job before this one.  Anyway, we don’t have to hang out with the guy, just get him to help us write some magical code.  My intern, Simon, can help, too.  If I recall, he was a bit of a hacker as a kid.”

“You do know that he and Declan don’t get along, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yeah, I picked up on that, but they worked okay on the first magic code that freed our mainframes.  They should be all right.  I mean, even I get tired of his sucking up sometimes,” Chet said.

“You mean when you’ve been dragging him around all day with his lips locked to your ass?” I laughed.

“Whose lips are on whose ass?” Lydia asked from the doorway.  “I told you—I get first rights to all dirt and scandal… it’s in my contract.”

Tanya moved into view behind the little terror, but then, I already knew she was there.

“Simon the intern on Chet’s,” I said.

“Old news,” she said, waving it away.  “So what have you kids been up to while the grownups were sleeping?”

I explained the trip that Declan and I took to DC and summarized the last few minutes’ conversation.

“So Declan feels it’s too late to change this thing’s mind and that we need to just kick its ass with a magical computer worm?” Tanya asked.  Chet and I both nodded.  “I like it.”

“Hey, where is our wicked witch of the web?” Lydia asked.

“He asked for a few hours to take care of some personal stuff.  He’ll probably be back soon,” I said.

Both women frowned at me.  “Is that a good idea?  Leaving him alone in the city?  He’s just an eighteen year old,” Lydia said.

“He’s a young adult who also happens to be possibly the strongest witch in existence,” I said.

“See, when you say it like that it makes me even more worried.  Young man, bottled up with emotions and hormones—especially hormones—alone in the deprived underbelly of the Rotten Old Apple and packing magical firepower roughly equivalent to a naval destroyer. What could happen?” Lydia said.

Despite my confidence in Declan, I began to see her point.

“Who was he going to see?” Tanya asked.

“He didn’t say, but I caught a glimpse of his phone.  He probably doesn’t know how well I can see.  Anyway, I saw Caeco’s name on the text,” I said.

“That’s his girlfriend, right?  Or I mean ex-girlfriend.  What’s she doing in the city?” Lydia asked, serious now.

“She’s working for those FBI agents on some paranormal version of a Bureau crime team,” I said.

“Oh, so super witch, whose first and only girlfriend, now his ex, happens to show up and texts him for a booty call?  Or is the FBI dragging our ace card into some freak show?” Lydia asked.

“Look, I’ll just text him and check up on him,” I said, pulling out my phone.

“Wait, we need an angle.  Can’t be just checking on him or he’ll think we don’t trust him to be on his own,” Lydia said.

“But we don’t trust him on his own,” Tanya pointed out.

“Of course not.  He’s just a kid.  But we don’t want him to know that.  So what do we tell him?” Lydia asked.

“I want to take the whole intern group to Plasma tonight to give them a little break.  Ask him if he can be back for that,” Tanya suggested.

I typed it into my phone and sent it on its way.  “Hmm, that’s odd. Shouldn’t it say it’s been delivered?” I asked Chet, showing him my phone.

“If he uses an iPhone too, then yes,” Chet said.

“He uses an iPhone,” Tanya and I said in unison.

“I hate when you two do that,” Lydia said.  “Try calling him.”

I did.  “No answer. Went straight to voicemail.”

“Okay, no reception in New York?  Something’s up,” Lydia said, voicing what we’d all been thinking.  The question was what was blocking our signal, and where was our witch?

Chapter 20 – Declan

I was being herded.  It took me a solid twenty minutes to figure it out.

Hell’s Kitchen lay west and north of the Demidova Tower, that much had been pretty clear on my phone’s map app.

So naturally, I started walking south and east while looking for a taxi.   Only I didn’t see any.  Any at all.  That should have set off alarms, but then it started to rain.

Sunny and hot one moment, pouring cats and dogs the next.  The storm was coming from the north and seemed to move very slowly.  So slow that I managed to keep ahead of it as long as I headed more south than east, following 11th Avenue.  It’s not like I was running in terror of getting wet.  I’m not the help-me-I’m-melting kind of witch, facing down a bratty Dorothy and her kicking dog Toto.  But this was a drenching, soak-your-wallet-and-phone kind of storm, one that lacked any form of lightning whatsoever. In other words, boring and annoying. So I hustled along, walking down Manhattan, trying to get far enough ahead that I could bolt east.  I made it three blocks south from the abandoned and haunted organ-robbing clinic when I hit a solid wall of traffic on 34th Street.  I mean, there is always traffic in New York but this was ridiculous.  And the stoplights weren’t changing.  The storm was catching up to me and I was about to risk a dart into traffic when I looked up and saw it—an overpass of some kind.  Only with plants… and people walking on it.  I followed it with my eyes till I found where it came down to the ground.  A wheelchair ramp touched down halfway between 11th and 12th Avenues.  Perfect.

Breaking into a run, I made the ramp and climbed quickly above street level to what the signs were calling the High Line.  Apparently, it was some kind of abandoned rail line now used as a park of sorts.  It initially moved west, but I could see it curving back to the east and then heading south.  The rain was close so I hustled along, slipping by some women tourists who were oddly unfazed by the impending storm.  That should have been clue number two.

I cleared the west leg to where it turned south, running alongside the Hudson River. The storm was almost on me and I got ready to run flat out when I skidded to a complete stop.

Three women stood across the walkway a hundred yards ahead.  They formed a line, and all three were staring at me.  They were too far away to make out details, but something seemed familiar.  Deep inside, I felt Sorrow perk up and pay attention.

A quick glance behind me to check on the storm found another group of women standing in the path.  Nine of them.  Nine plus three equals twelve.  Twelve women is the usual number of a circle of witches.

The rain started to patter on my shoulders and head, and the wind came hard behind me, almost pushing me forward.  I moved, but at a slow walk.  The women’s faces became clearer and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up straighter.  I grabbed for power, but I was above the earth, on a suspended path with a cold wind removing any heat around me.  Then the storm caught me fully and in an instant, I was soaked.

By now, I had a pit in my stomach and the short, dumpy shape of the middle woman seemed familiar in an awful kind of way.  Ten more steps and I recognized her beyond all doubt.  Macha Banfill, leader of the Irwin witches.  My estranged distant family.  The young woman to her left was familiar as well.  We had tangled at College Arcane and I knew she was powerful.  I also knew she had come out second best at that meeting, as I had been a literal pain in her ass.  Her smirk was not comforting.

The woman to Macha’s right was older than the girl but much younger than Macha.  Taller, too.  But there was a resemblance to both Macha and the girl that told me the three were related.  All three had hazel eyes and light brown hair.

“Ah, young Declan Irwin, here in the big city.  Fancy us meeting ye here and now, as it were,” Macha said.  Beside her, the girl was holding vast power, little eddies of magic slipping free to lift her hair like an errant wind.  I remembered she was at least an Air witch and maybe more.  I noticed that the rain wasn’t touching any of them.

Sorrow was alert and almost quivering inside me, studying the situation.  The walkway trembled slightly as the traffic underneath us shook the foundations.

They had planned well, getting me above the earth and now standing in a grounding downpour that was cold enough to remove most of the ready heat around me.  I had only my reserves.  The High Line path shook again and Sorrow dragged my attention to it, even as I spoke.

“So you killed my mother and now you’re here to finish the job,” I stated, settling my feet into the firm structure of the path.

“We did no such thing!  The nerve of ye to call us killers when ye have a record of it yerself,” Macha said.

“Then what could you want with me?” I asked, glancing behind me at the nine other women, who were closer now.  “You and your circle.”

“Aye, we’ve brought the best of the clan with us and all of us being Irwins,” she said.  “What we want is what be only right—to bring ye back to where ye belong—among yer own people.”

“My own people?” I asked.  The vehicles shake this structure.  Use them, Sorrow suggested.  I might have been above the earth but I was still connected, if only by the steel and concrete of the walkway.  I started to slowly pull together what power I could harness from the traffic below.  “The same people who forced rapists on my mother and aunt?  Those people?”

“Ye know jest one side of it, see?  She be filling yer head with lies and stories such as make us look dark, don’t ye see?”

“Oh, and this little ambush isn’t dark and scary?  Trapping me like an animal is supposed to make us friends, is it?” I asked.

“Well lad, we got off to a rough start we did, and ye showed yer not to be trifled with.  So this… this should be telling ye just how much respect we have fer yer abilities.  Ye should be flattered,” she said. “But yer also a bit above yerself.  Tis understandable, what with ye living among so many witches and such as don’t know the family secrets.  But lad, ye don’t know all the family secrets either. Even yer mum and yer aunt didn’t yet know them all when they left.  We have knowledge ye lack.”

“So, what?  You want me to drop everything I’m doing and head off to Ireland to study at your feet?” I asked.

“T’would be best, but I doubt ye’d be so trusting.  No, lad.  I propose ye at least be willing to meet with us and learn more about yer heritage.  Einin here could show ye things ye wouldn’t be finding out on yer own,” she said, indicating the young girl to her left.

Einin suddenly smiled, and it unnerved me.  Not that she was ugly.  She wasn’t, although not what I would call excessively pretty, either.  But there was a glint in her eyes that told me she would love to have me in a subordinate position.  She gestured slightly with one hand and the storm shrank away from them even more.  The pouring rain was now mostly around me in maybe a twelve-foot circle.  She smirked again.  It seemed to be her normal look.

Bitches be lying, Sorrow interjected.  Okay, so I listen to rap and hip-hop.  I’m eighteen; it’s kind of my generation’s thing.  But the fact it was influencing the ancient book of evil magic that lived inside me was a bit… unsettling.

Earth to Shield, Earth to Fire, Sorrow added, showing me spells I hadn’t ever heard of before.

Using Earth energy to create shields wasn’t new, as Earth lent itself well to protective spells.  But the form of the shield it suggested was different.  The real kicker was the implication that one could transmute one affinity for another.  Earth to Fire?  Nowhere had I ever read, heard, or seen any hint that such a thing was possible.  What about Air to Fire?

Possible for one with both affinities.

Holy shit.  The implications were mind-blowing.  I tried the shield spell and, low and behold, a round disc of invisible shielding formed over my head—like Wonder Woman’s umbrella.  The rain stopped hitting me, blocked completely by the spell.  Macha, Einin, and the other, unnamed witch noticed immediately.  Then I tried the second spell.  My clothes started to steam.  Their eyes got wide.

“The book,” Macha said, which elicited a quick confused glance from both her companions. “Ye’ve seen the book.”

“I’ve seen lots of books.  It’s a big city. We have books.” I said, pulling my rapidly drying t-shirt away from my skin so air could get under it.

Her eyes narrowed.  “Where did ye get it?” she asked, then her expression shifted as an idea occurred to her.  “Yer father.  Ye’ve met your father, ye have,” she accused.

So I could guess what book she was referring to although seen it was less the right verb than, say, melded with.  But what did my father have to do with the book?  The conversation was getting odd… odder.  Time to go.

“Listen, I’ll consider talking with you, but not like a trapped rat.  We meet somewhere neutral—a park or something.  Whether you have anything to teach me or not… well… we’ll see,” I said.

Macha’s lips were pressed in a flat line.  This wasn’t going the way she wanted it to.

“I want to know about the book, lad.  Yu’ll be telling us a bit about that, at least,” she said.

I moved to the edge of the High Line, looking over.  Below me, I saw a virtual nest of rail lines and parked train cars.  Next to the railing was a goodly sized streetlight rising from ground level. “I’ll be bouncing now.  Got get back to my job.  In case you didn’t know, I work for God’s Warrior, so I can’t stay and trade recipes,” I said trying to keep as cool as I could.  Climbing the High Line’s railing, I jumped to the lightpost, activating my glyphs to give me the strength to hang on.  Then I slid down, reaching the tracks and solid ground below.  Three faces looked down at me from above but pulled back abruptly as soon as my feet touched earth and I drew power.  My Sight showed shields snapping into place above me.  I ignored them, turning and moving quickly across the rails and out of the yard.  The rain fell off, the storm beginning to dissipate as the witches controlling it let it fall apart.

Hurrying onward, I put distance between us, pulling heat from the hot pavement and further drying my clothes.  I had a lot to consider.

“Sorrow, why did you help me?” I asked.

I serve.

“Who do you serve?”

Rosewitha.

“She’s dead—right?” I asked, hoping like hell he wasn’t going to surprise me.

Her form but not her line.

Her line?  “She had a child?”

Truth.

“But you’re in me?  How is that serving her line?”

I serve you—I serve the line.

I remembered something Perun, my father, had said.  Something about his own mother.

“Is Zuzanna of the line?” I guessed.

She is of the line.

“Why not serve her?”

If you were not alive, I would serve her.

Thinking I might never sleep again, I hurried home toward the tower, finally spotting a taxi.  I waved and it pulled over.  Seated in back, I tried not to think about the fact that I was, it seemed, directly related to one of the most evil witches in history.  Then I saw the text on my phone and groaned.  My boss was an angel, or at least an ex-angel, and I was descended from evil.  Should I tell him?

Chapter 21 – Chris

“We should go looking for him,” Tanya said for the third time.

“Let’s give him a half hour more,” I replied.  She gave me the you’re dead wrong stare and my phone buzzed.

I looked down, then back up, unable to keep the triumphant look off my face.  “It’s Declan.  Says he’s on his way back.  Got caught in a storm and didn’t dare pull his phone out to check his messages,” I told the two vampires in front of me.

“Storm?  I didn’t see any rain predicted for this afternoon or evening?” Lydia asked.

“So the weather people were wrong—that’s never happened before,” I said back to her.

“Oh the sass!  And doesn’t he have one of those waterproof cases?” Lydia pressed.

“What are you, the phone Gestapo?  The fact that the message didn’t show as delivered backs him, oh cynical one,” I said.

“Enough.  This pseudo-sibling bickering was cute once upon a time, but that was long ago.  Declan responded, he says he’s on his way back, and we’ve stuff to organize,” Tanya said.

“Grouchy. So you really want to let all those interns loose in Plasma?” Lydia asked.

“Yeah, they’ve been working hard and Plasma is controlled, protected territory,” Tanya said.  “How much trouble could they get into?”

A couple hours later provided the answer: a lot.

Most of the interns were under twenty-one, but a number of them were foreign and legal to drink in their own countries.  And a handful were older—seniors and grad students.  Tanya hadn’t felt it necessary to forbid the older ones from drinking; it was supposed to be a night out, after all.  But I don’t think she understood the older ones would supply the younger ones, who were only too happy to let loose in one of the most exclusive nightclubs anywhere on the globe.  If Plasma had been popular before the events in Washington, it was off the charts now.

So we had a bunch of excited college kids, let loose in a dark nightclub with legal-age friends whose VIP wristbands provided free alcohol.

“So this is what New Yorkers do for fun?” Declan asked me as he half-dragged a partially passed out intern upright on the sofa in our sitting area.

“I think this is what people in almost every city on the planet do for fun,” Lydia answered, handing a bottle of water to another intern.  “What, you don’t see the attraction?” she asked him.

“I’m a witch.  Alcohol is not really a great idea for us.  Actually, any drug is a bad idea. Never can tell how they’re going to react with our body chemistry.  Plus, who wants a drunk witch?” he asked, turning to watch some of the dancers out on the floor.

“Yeah, no shit.  People would be turning into frogs everywhere,” she said.

“Damn right,” he agreed, still watching the dancers.  Grace was out there with her roommates and from the looks of it, all three had found a friendly source for cocktails.  A second later, said source showed up in the form of a weaving Simon, who casually draped his arms around Aleesha and Grace, leaning in to whisper in first one girl’s ear and then the other’s, making them both giggle.

“Although some people should probably spend time as frogs just on general principles,” Declan said, watching Simon.

“Could you do it?” Lydia asked.

He turned to look at her, maybe to see if she was serious.  She was.  He shrugged.

“Sorrow has a spell for it.  All his other spells have worked. I’d need some DNA from both the victim and the frog.”

“But it could be trying to trick you?” she asked.

“There is that, but really, what would be the trick?  You’re talking about transforming someone into an amphibian,” he said.

“Maybe the spell is permanent?” Lydia pointed out.

“And you’re saying that’s bad?” he asked.

“Uh-oh, we gotta watch this one… he’s going over to the dark side,” Lydia said to me.

“Well—they have cookies,” he said with a sigh as he pulled the drunk back upright for the third time.

A swirl of jasmine and lilac announced my vampire’s arrival.  “Looks like this worked a little too well,” Tanya noted. She wasn’t happy.  Having grown up as a vampire had left her sheltered from the antics of today’s kids.  I think she was honestly surprised and disappointed in them.  None of the rest of us were all that shocked.

“Wanna shut it down?” I asked.

“What I want to do is sober them all up,” she said.

“You could put a teeny bit of blood into a cocktail and then pour them all shots,” Lydia suggested.

“And then they would all feel awesome with absolutely no repercussions,” Tanya said, shaking her head.

“Sorrow’s got a potion that would do it,” Declan suggested.  “It flushes all the alcohol and toxins out all at once.  He’s suggesting that it’s unpleasant but quick.”

“How do we know if it’s safe?” Lydia asked.

“Easy. I try it first,” he said, his eyes flicking up as he listened to his passenger’s response.  He nodded after a second.  “He says it’ll be slightly unpleasant for me, but for the kids who’ve been drinking, it will leave them sober and it will be more uncomfortable.  Then about an hour later, they should all be fine.  But I’ll need some stuff from my bag.”

He was seldom without his messenger bag lately, which was understandable seeing as we had him warding and writing runes everywhere.

Tanya set the staff to rounding up the interns while Declan mixed a big batch of something slightly greenish with the help of the bartender.  I wondered over to watch.

“It’s actually mostly water, with a goodly slug of bitters as the base.  Then some herbs and some abracadabra, and shazam… instant alcohol cure,” he said.

“What kind of herbs?” Lydia asked.

“A little willow, some primrose oil, milk thistle, fennel, and a few others,” he said.

“What others, ‘cause I smell something a bit nasty?” she pressed.

“A teeny bit of charcoal and just a hint of wolfsbane,” he admitted.

“Aconite?  That’s poisonous,” she said, glancing at me with a what the hell look.

“Yes it is—as it goes in.  But I change it when I apply earth magic to the whole mixture.  It’s an alkaloid, it speeds up the cleansing process, and it’s part of what makes the experience unpleasant.”

“And you’re about to feed it to these kids, some of whom you don’t like?” she asked, starting to really press him.

He frowned at her, poured a shot glass full of his mixture, then drank it down, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

Putting the glass down, he raised both eyebrows in a so there moment.  A second later, he shuddered hard and pressed both hands on the bar top to stay upright.  Then he shook himself and straightened up.

“Oh, they’re not going to like that,” he said, grimacing. He helped himself to a plastic cup of cola from the bar dispenser and slugged it down.

“A sugary chaser is probably a good idea,” he said, turning to me.

“Nasty?” Lydia asked, eyeing him with a hint of respect.

“Yeah, and I haven’t been drinking.  That was just the normal toxins you pick up on a modern diet,” he said.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said, smiling wide enough to show the points of her little fangs.

“My Grandma… what big teeth you have,” Stacia said, arriving behind us.  “What’s got you baring your fangs?”

“She thinks I’m going to poison all the interns with the sobering-up potion I just made.  Most of them got drunk and Tanya seems pissed.  So Sorrow offered this little mix and Lydia thinks I’ve gone over to the bad side because it has wolfsbane in it,” Declan explained.

“Wolfsbane?  Keep that stuff away from me,” Stacia said with a grimace.

“Shit, we give it to the weres at school from time to time and it’s no biggie,” he said. “Ya just gotta treat it first.”  He held up one hand and let a blue spark pop between his thumb and index finger.  “I’ll throw this out,” he said, hefting the blender full of potion.

“No you won’t,” Tanya said, suddenly behind the bar.  “You drank it just fine.  I want it to be unpleasant,” she said, taking the pitcher from him.  She nodded to the regular bartender, a vampire named Mandy who had been watching the whole thing with minor disbelief.  Mandy started laying out shot glasses and Tanya filled them one after another.

Meanwhile, the vampire staff was herding the drunk kids over our way, leaving the few sober ones out of the mix.

“Alright team Demidova, grab a glass and bottoms up,” Tanya said, taking a glass and leading them in the shot.

“Eww, that’s nasty,” she said to Declan.  “Perfect.”

The ring of fourteen interns put down their glasses, most looking uncomfortable if not outright distressed, and some looked like they might fall over.  The staff grabbed the really wobbly ones and either walked them or carried them to chairs.  From their expressions, I was sure at least half of them were going to be violently ill, but no one threw up.  Sweated profusely and sucked down the glasses of soda that were sitting in front of them, but no vomiting.

Within ten minutes, most were sobering up and while they still looked miserable, I think it was due as much to Tanya’s obvious anger as Declan’s foul drink.

“So, my objective was to treat you to an experience in the city that’s hard to replicate.  Getting into Plasma is much sought after and difficult to do.  Most New Yorkers don’t get a chance to do it.  I thought you all deserved it.  I did not think that those of legal age would be feeding alcohol to those underage and by underage, I mean by US law, not your home country.  Shame on me.  I was naïve.  You all took advantage.  Shame on you.  But we’ve corrected that situation and from the looks on your faces, it wasn’t pleasant.  Good.  Having my trust abused wasn’t pleasant for me.  We can forget this happened, if… it doesn’t happen again. Next time I find Demidova employees breaking the drinking laws on my property, they’ll be fired.  You can stay and make something of the experience or head back to your quarters.  There are shuttles waiting outside.  Up to you,” she said, then turned and walked away to greet a table of celebrities near the dance floor.

Most of the kids looked at least a bit ashamed.  Some looked pissed off, like Simon and a few of his cronies, and by the glances they were shooting Declan, they blamed him.

“You know that this will just leave him more alone?” Stacia asked from next to me.

“He volunteered the mix,” I said.

“Because he’s trying to help.  He’s always trying to help,” she said.  “Even if it completely isolates him from the other kids.”

“You don’t think being a witch among normal kids is isolating enough?  It would be like…” I tried to think of a suitable analogy.

“Like being the only werewolf on a team of all vampires?” she offered, getting up and heading over to talk to Declan.

I hadn’t thought about it like that but now that she pointed it out, their experience was very similar.  In fact, he had much more in common with the blonde werewolf than any of the comp sci kids in the room.

Chapter 22 – Declan

I suppose the field trip to Plasma wasn’t a complete bust, At least the interns got to party inside the tightest club in the City.  Who am I kidding?  It was a bust, and most of the interns acted either pissed off or scared they were about to be fired, or both.

Almost all of them avoided me, including Grace and her girls.  Probably just as well.

Still, I won’t say it didn’t sting the next day when Chet was taking me into the special project section and I got the cold shoulder.

Grace, Aleesha, and Joni were all working on something together when we walked by.  Grace and Aleesha both ignored me completely, despite making brief eye contact with me while Joni gave me the evil eye.  Ah well.  Gonna be a long summer.  Maybe Caeco would be in town for a few days?  Hmm, that was probably a bad idea as well.  Still…

“So Declan, what do you know about quantum computing?” Chet asked as he ushered me into a secure section at the back of the floor.  The steel door required voice and face recognition as well as Chet’s ID card.  Our cell phones and his watch went into the basket outside the door.

“Well, I know the absolute basics.  That standard computing is done with binary bits, 1’s and 0’s.  A memory cell in a computer can be either 1 or 0.  With quantum, because of entanglement and superposition, you have more options.  It would use qubits to achieve more computational possibilities at the same time.”

“Essentially correct.  By manipulating the qubits with quantum logic gates and quantum algorithms, the computer can, in theory, solve problems much faster than a digital computer,” Chet said.  “In essence, the quantum computer tests for solutions all at the same time while a standard computer follows a linear path to problem solving. The problem is maintaining the qubits.   Achieving the superposition and entanglement for each qubit is the problem, as well as isolating the qubit from outside noise pollution,” he said.

“And you think my magic could help with those problems?” I asked.

“I absolutely think it’s possible,” Chet said.

A bald man in a white dress shirt and dark slacks beelined toward us, his eyes flicking over me and locking onto Chet.

“Ah, Susskins.  I brought that intern I was telling you about to check out the lab,” Chet said.  Susskins just looked at him for a moment, oddly creepy. He had almost jet black eyes and no eyebrows. Agent Gellan wore his baldhead like a badass, while this guy would make Uncle Fester feel uncomfortable.  He studied Chet for a moment longer than was normal or comfortable, his expression almost hostile.

“Don’t we have enough interns?” he finally asked, pointing toward a corner of the room without taking his eyes off Chet.  I looked where he pointed—Simon was looking at us over the top of a monitor and when Chet looked back at Susskins, Simon gave me the one-finger salute.

“We don’t have anyone like Declan,” Chet said. “Dr. Susskins heads up our quantum computing project,” Chet said to me.

“Yeah?” Susskins asked, filling the one word with contemptuous disbelief.  “The twit in the corner is top of his class.  Still having difficulty coming up to speed with the math.  This one is what?  Twelve years old?  What’s he going to add?  Cream to my coffee?”

Wow.  I was blown away by the size of the guy’s ego and his utter contempt for virtually everyone, Chet included.

“How about it, champ?  How are you with probabilistic algorithms and eigenvalues?” he asked me.

“Not great.  Did you know the temperature of that D-Wave annealer is rising like a rocket?” I asked.

Susskins looked at me with black eyes for a split second, then strode to the machine in question.  He looked at it for a second before snapping out orders to the other technicians and scientists in the room.

“You know about D-Wave?” Chet asked as we both watched.

“A little bit. We’ve touched on them in class.  But to be honest, it says D-Wave right on the casing. I do know you need to cryogenically cool these things down.  But I felt the internal systems alarm trying to warn about the temperature issue.  I think someone turned it down or closed the monitor on it or something,” I said.

Over by the D-Wave, there was much scurrying and frantic action but finally Susskins straightened up from the monitor, apparently satisfied with the situation.  Then he looked my way, his creepy serial killer eyes locked onto me.

“How did you know it was heating up?” he asked as soon as he got over to us.

“I told you.  Declan can add all kinds of value to this program.  I’m thinking especially with decoherence,” Chet said.

“What do you mean?”

“First of all, he heard what your diagnostics program was trying to tell you.  From across the room, with his mind,” Chet said, pausing to let that sink in.  “Second, he can directly effect the environment around him, particularly with regard to temperature and particle activity.”

“Impossible,” Susskins stated.

“Really?  That word coming out of your mouth?” Chet asked.  “How then did he know what your system was trying to tell your people?  How do you think we were able to secure this company’s mainframe and satellites?  With his help and his abilities, that’s how.”

“You’re honestly going to press this ridiculous argument that he’s a real… what?  Wizard?  Harry Potter come to America?” Susskins asked.

“Born in America,” I said.

Chet smiled and turned to me.  “Show him.”

So far, half of my internship seemed to be performing parlor tricks to impress nonbelievers.  I looked around.

It was almost a clean room, devoid of any coffee cups, water bottles, or other handy items.  There were pens, though.  Across the room, Simon was holding a pen that he had just used to make a notation of some type.   I reached across and telekinetically grabbed it, pulling it to me.  It traveled in a smooth line across the room, coming to an unwavering stop directly in front of Dr. Susskins, who watched it with unreadable eyes.

I applied a little heat to it and then bent it, without physical touch, forming it into an almost perfect circle, the gel tip actually melted into the plastic top, like a snake trying to disappear up its own ass.  I thought it was pretty symbolic as I mentally set it into Susskins’ shirt pocket.

Shove that up your… “Impressive right?” Chet said, interrupting my train of thought.

Susskins pulled it from his pocket, studying it with flat eyes.  I glanced over at Simon, who was staring until he met my gaze, then jerked back to his monitor.

The bald doctor still hadn’t spoken, but you could almost hear the gears clicking and whirring inside the stretched-skin-covered cranium as he looked at the useless pen.

Experimentally, he pulled on each side of the ring pen, trying to pull it apart, but the plastic didn’t give.  Finally, he looked up and met my eyes, his creepy stare unnerving.  Without breaking eye contact, he spoke aside to Chet.  “I need to give this some thought.”  Then he turned and walked away, as if we were never there.  No goodbye, no dismissal, just clicked off from us and onto whatever task he was now berating his people over.

“He, uh, takes some getting used to,” Chet said.

“He’s a megalomaniac asshole with negative social skills,” I said. “How can you work with him?”

“It can be difficult.  But he’s brilliant and top of his field.”

“And sociopathic.  How can you trust him?  How do Tanya and Chris trust him?” I asked.

“We keep tight controls on this floor and we have Nika scan everyone on a regular basis.”

“That’s not foolproof.  I can block Nika.  How do you know he can’t, too?”

“Because she says she has no problem getting his thoughts.  Apparently, they make her uneasy.”

“And she’s a vampire.  Think about that,” I said as we headed back out of the room.  The door snicked shut like an airlock behind us.

Grace’s group glanced at us before turning their backs to me.

“Okay, okay.  Duly noted.  But we keep our eyes on him,” Chet said.  “It’s okay.  We got it handled.”

Famous last words.

Chapter 23 – Chris

“Well, I can see his point.  I’d be resentful too.  But at the heart of the matter is the fact that we can’t replicate the programming without him.  Theoretically, other witches could possibly do the job, but it would likely take a full circle or two, and none of our sources know of any circles that have his abilities with electronics. So his magical programming is his and his alone,” Tanya said.  She was sitting on her desk and the black dress she was wearing was distracting me from the conversation.

“Hmm, makes sense.  Wait… what sources?” I asked, dragging my eyes back up to hers.

“Well, we do know other witches.  The Coven has always had contact with witches and employed their services, despite the exorbitant cost.  Protecting our existence for all those centuries required magic, more this century than ever before.  At least that’s one expense that disappeared with Washington.”

“But if they used magic to get rid of or change evidence before we blew the cover on the Darkkin race, then some of them had to be able to whammy electronics?” I asked.

“Yes, of course.  There are other Earth witches and Fire witches, even some with both.  Most of them can disrupt cameras and recording media.  They can corrupt audio files and photographs, both digital and chemical-based.  Even give computers fits.  But listen to, understand at an instinctive level, and program?  Not that we can find,” she said, straightening her dress across her legs.  My eyes followed her gesture.

When I looked up, she gave me a little smirk.  “Honestly, how do men get anything done?  You are so easily distracted.”

“We’re motivated to clear our workload so we can pursue those distractions.” She snorted at my leer, rising to her feet like a dancer, all grace and fluid movement.

“Speaking of which, what is our next appointment?” I asked as she sat down behind her desk, hiding much of her lithe form.

“Daniel Castille—Reverend Daniel Castille, of the Church of the True,” she said, watching my reaction.

“What the hell do they want?  They hate vampires,” I said.

“He requested a meeting to discuss the Church’s position on Darkkin.  It was suggested that they want to come to an understanding,” she said.  “I figured, what the hell?”

“So is it just you and me?” I asked.

“Darion is coming in as well, and Nika.  In fact, they’re meeting them downstairs and bringing them up.  They should be here any moment.”

“I’m guessing that your tablet has a fact file on the Church cued up right now?  What do we know?”

“The Church of the True was formed from a prior ministry that Castille founded about seven years ago.  The Select of the Lord was co-created by Castille and a lawyer named Fierro… Lyle Fierro.  They attracted a small following and tried numerous tactics to grow their congregation.  Never got much over a thousand members.”

“A thousand seems like a lot?” I asked.

“For a small town church, sure.  For a ministry seeking to grow across state lines, not so much.  Right after our trip to Washington, they changed the name to the Church of the True and started preaching against vampires.  They grew astronomically in the months since.  Over thirty thousand followers at last count.”

“Still just a tiny fraction of the country’s population, zayka,” I said.  “Your interviews and actions have more people viewing vampires favorably.”

“But they are still growing and some of the people they’ve attracted have influence, wealth, and political power,” she said.  Her cell phone chimed with her incoming text tone.  “They’re here and on the way up.”

“What does the Church say about vampires?” I asked.

“That we are soulless abominations in the eyes of God,” she said.  Her poker face was on but I didn’t need my Chosen bond to know how deeply that statement affected her.  From the moment I met her, I had been trying to convince her that she had a soul and it wasn’t forfeit simply because she was a vampire.  And now, years later, we had established that her soul was that of the Angel Lailah, and yet some yokel with a bible was still able to make her question herself.  My anger was almost instant.

A knock came at the door. I moved to it and opened it, revealing Darion, followed closely by three men, a young woman in a dress, and Nika.  Darion moved smoothly by me, but the man behind him stopped instantly to stare at me with a slightly fevered smile.

“Christian Gordon—Hammer of God.  I am so honored to meet you,” he said, holding out a tanned and manicured hand.  His face was just as carefully bronzed and his teeth were so white, I knew they were caps.  Lean in the manner of a dedicated gym junkie, his blue eyes shone with the intensity of something that was either complete confidence or fanaticism.  He appeared to be in his mid-forties.  He clutched a very worn bible under his left arm.

I automatically took his hand, but I was still angry that anyone or anything could make my soulmate doubt herself.  I may have gripped a tad too tight.  He almost went to his knees.  I felt Tanya’s alarm at the same moment I registered the look of pain on his face and instantly relaxed my hand.

“Oh, sorry.  Slipped for a second,” I said, using my other hand to pull him back fully upright.

“Wow, you are strong!  The might of the Fallen,” he said, wincing slightly as he shook out his hand.  “I’m Reverend Daniel Castille,” he said, eyes still locked tight to mine.

“Well, you know who I am.  This is my better half, Tatiana Demidova,” I said.

He stepped into the room and then back to the side of the door as she crossed the room.  The person behind him was a heavy man whose skin shone slightly with a sheen of perspiration despite the air conditioning.  Both men stopped and watched Tanya’s approach, the expressions on their faces identical to most men when they meet my vampire in person.  She has a certain impact on men.  Most men.

The third guy was lean and dark, although whether it was from inherited traits or time in the sun, I couldn’t tell.  He was wiry and controlled, with brown hair and brown eyes, one of which he had come close to losing sometime in the past, based on the thin white scar that ran down his cheek.  He paid no attention to Tanya’s beauty, instead watching her with a wary look.  The woman was young, showing a lot of leg and makeup and carrying a tablet.  She, too, came up short but her expression flickered briefly with dismay, a common reaction among women.

Tanya said hello, flashing white teeth but no fang, and I took a second to glance at Nika.  Her fingers signed quickly through a series of very fast movements.  Team sign language.  At vampire speed, she pointed to Castille, the fat man, the woman, and the lean guy.  She couldn’t read Castille or the lean guy.  She could read the girl and the heavy dude.

“Ah, my associate and attorney, Lyle Fierro, my assistant, Sue Olley, and our head of security, John Cuttle,” Castille introduced once he had regained his composure.

“You’ve already met Darion and Nika, so why don’t we all have a seat,” Tanya said, waving a hand toward the chairs, coffee table, and single loveseat.  “Can we get you anything to drink?”

Castille almost jerked at her question, his face flashing through microexpressions of fear and disgust .  “No, no, we’re all quite fine,” he answered for all of them.

Tanya and I took the loveseat, the others settling into armchairs.  Castille sat on the edge of his, and Cuttle looked poised to move.

“So, Reverend, what can we do for you?” Tanya asked.

He frowned, then gave her a sad smile.  “Just so that we don’t create any misconceptions, the leadership of the Church of the True have not changed our position on your kind,” he said, the word kind somehow conveying the connotation of something nasty.

“So why are we meeting?” I asked.

“Because the Church demands that you cease destroying the lives of God’s children with your medical experiments,” Lyle Fierro said.

Tanya and I looked at each other, confused. “Destroying lives?  Those people who’ve entered the medical trials have all responded well.  In fact, the cure rate is astronomical.”

“So it would seem.  But we aren’t speaking of the unfortunate citizens of the countries that are hosting your… projects.  We are concerned for those US citizens that have been misguided into traveling to foreign lands to receive corruption of their souls,” Castille said, eyes alight with conviction.

“Wait, those Angel Flight kids that have been cured of brain cancer, leukemia, and a half dozen other deseases?  Those are the people we have supposedly corrupted?  By curing?  What kind of god does your church pray to, Reverend?”

“The one you have turned your back on by falling in with these… these false beings,” Castille shot back at me.

Darion held up his hands in a time out gesture.

“Reverend, you admit these children have been cured, yet you claim corruption.  What do you base that accusation on?”

“The children appear to be cured, counselor—appear being the key word.  Yet most of them have since fallen ill and several have died, with the prognosis for the others being very poor,” Castille said.

“What?  Died? What children?” Tanya demanded, coming forward on her seat next to me.  John Cuttle tensed at her movement, his eyes watching her like he might a poisonous snake.

Sue Olley leaned over and handed the reverend her tablet, which he promptly turned around.  It was opened to news website and the title was Miracle Kid Dies Suddenly.  The date was today’s and the child was one of the first to be cured, a beautiful five-year-old girl from Dallas, Texas who had inoperable brain cancer.

“There have been others,” Castille said, swiping the screen with his finger and flicking to another story of a cured boy suddenly on death’s door.  The glimpses of both articles had implied a connection to the Demidova drug trials.

Darion reached for the tablet and Castille let him take it.

“So, while your abominable formulas might appear to work, they are corrupting the very bodies and souls of these precious young people,” the reverend said.

Darion looked up from the tablet.  “Two other kids are listed in here, but they were both in accidents. What does that have to do with the cure?”

“Don’t you see?  No, of course you don’t, since you’ve thrown your immortal soul away to be in their presence,” Castille said with a pitying smile.  “It was our Lord’s will that these children were sick in the first place, and when you contaminated their young, pure bodies with your evil mixtures, he called them back to him anyway.”

“There is no proof connecting these deaths to our treatments.  The articles even say they died of unrelated illnesses,” Darion said.

“Yet they died.  As will, I am certain, any other victims of your vile practices,” Castille said.  Suddenly, it was clear.  At least to me and, by the taut vibration of tension in my vampire and the thrum of rage in our bond link, it was clear to her as well.

“Are you threatening the patients?” Darion asked.

“Of course not!  Don’t be accusing my client of impropriety when it’s your actions that have led to this,” Fierro said, wresting his bulk forward to sit upright.

“The Church of the True demands you cease these abominations you call trials immediately or we will be forced to show the world what you have done,” Castille said.

Grim poked me from inside his cave in my mind.  I opened my Sight, noting their auras.  The fat man and the girl were the normal blue of standard human.  Castille’s was much, much darker—still blue, but a navy so deep, it was almost black.  Cuttle’s was dark as well, with a sheen of real black over it.  Both men’s auras were twisted on separate parts of their bodies.  Castille’s was twisted all around by his left arm, right by the bible he carried.  Cuttle’s was twisted on his chest, about where a necklace or amulet would be under his shirt.

“I think we’re done here,” Tanya said, standing up abruptly.  It was so fast that, to the humans, it must have appeared to be instant.  Instead of following her lead, I pulled my phone and sent two quick texts, typing at vampire speed.  Then I too stood, mere moments after Tanya, simultaneously dropping my mental shields to think specific thoughts to Nika, who nodded, stood, and moved to the door.

“Security will see you out,” I said as Nika opened the door to admit Deckert and two of his men.

As fast as they arrived, they left, but Castille paused, turning at the door.  “You’ve done God’s work in front of the world, yet you side with them.  It must break His heart,” were his parting words to me.  I just closed the door in his face.  Nika had slipped out as Deckert came in.

“They killed them!” Tanya said.  “And they’ll kill more as well.  Those children, those beautiful little children.”

She was so far past pissed, it wasn’t even visible in her rearview mirror.  She raged internally at the deaths of the kids and my bond told me she was shaken, enraged, deadly determined, and did I mention enraged?

“We have no proof,” Darion said.  “But it seemed to be implied, although not in any way that would ever work in our favor.”

“Nika couldn’t read Castille or Cuttle,” I said, moving to Tanya’s desk and touching the control that raised the big screen monitor on the wall of the room.  “I could see that each of them had an object of power, something that likely blocked her attempts at reading them,” I said, touching a few more controls.

On the screen, three windows opened, each a different camera viewpoint of the building’s lobby.  In one window, the elevator doors opened and the church group came out.  Another window showed the guard and reception desk and visitor seating area.  A lean young man sat in one of the chairs, looking at his phone, an enormous wolf sitting next to him.

The third view showed the church party passing the young man and wolf as they headed for the door, every member of the party turning to look at the wolf, who chose that moment to stand, stretch, and trot past them to the guard desk.  As one, Castille and his group stopped and watched warily as the massive beast moved across their path and started nosing under the desk, where a guard quickly pulled out a massive canine chew toy.  The emissaries of the Church of the True completely missed the young man standing and walking behind them, hands in his pockets, appearing nonchalant.

Personally, I think he was overacting a bit, but they didn’t notice him anyway, instead resuming their passage out of the building as quickly as possible.

The kid turned and gave our camera a thumbs up, a wink, and a grin before turning and walking to the elevators, the wolf catching up before he could push the up button, giant chew toy looking almost delicate in massive jaws.

A minute later, there was a knock on the door. It opened before we could even say ‘Come in.’  Declan and Awasos strolled through, both looking pleased with themselves.  ‘Sos dropped to the floor to give the toy proper attention.

“I texted Declan and asked him to observe the reverend and company,” I explained.

“The snake oil salesman and the mercenary guy were both carrying objects of power, as you thought.  Dark objects.  I don’t know what kind of bible that was, but it wasn’t the King James version, that’s for sure.  Sorrow didn’t much care for it, either.  The other guy had some kind of amulet,” he said.

“Can you describe it?” Tanya asked, our bond telling me she was very happy with my quick thinking.

“Better.  I can show it to you,” our resident kid wonder said, pulling his hand from his pocket.  “Sorrow showed me a way to snatch it right out of the guy’s shirt.  Almost a teleport thing, but not quite.”

“You took it?” I said, simultaneously appalled and pleased by his audacity.

“Your text said it blocked Nika.  I saw her stroll by me, so I thought if I could get at least one of them, she might get something.  Couldn’t touch the bible—it’s really strong.  And I think maybe demonic,” Declan said.

I thought back to my own impression of the bible and realized that it did have the greasy, queasy feel of something touched by demons.  The amulet in the kid’s hand was dark too, but not as bad.

It was a roundish, flat, dull gray metal disc carved with the likeness of a one-legged, one-armed, half man.  Flowing Arabic script lined the edges and just under the figure, the disc bulged out like a lump was buried under the metal.

“You stole from one of our visitors?” Darion asked, his tone lawyerly.

Declan turned and tossed him the amulet, which he automatically caught… and immediately dropped, shaking his hand and wiping it on his expensive suit.

“What the fuck?” he said, looking up.

“Nasty, huh?” Declan asked with a grin, bending over to pick it up.

“Nasty?  That’s vile,” Darion said.

“And you object to my removing it from that soldier guy?” Declan asked, still grinning.

Darion started to sputter, but I spoke before he could get to words.  “Why do you keep calling Cuttle a soldier?”

“Huh?” Declan asked.

“You called him a mercenary and just now a soldier,” Tanya pointed out without looking up from her tablet, where she was typing away.

“Oh,” he said, scratching his head.  “He looks like a soldier, or an ex-soldier.  Like my friend Levi and virtually all the security guys at Arcane.  Something about the way he moves or looks around.  Even his haircut.  Speaking of Levi, could I send a photo of this thing to him?  Bet he’d know something about it.”

“No!” Darion said, immediately looking slightly abashed at how forceful he’d said it.  “No electronic trails of stolen items, please.”

“I found it on the floor, Counselor,” Declan suggested.  “Needed help figuring out what it was.”

“No, we don’t,” Tanya said, looking up in triumph from her tablet.  “The figure on it is a nasnas.  A half-human, half-demon of sorts from Arab folklore.  I can read most of the words around the edges.  This word here is Ahriman, which is a name, I think.  The words translate something like Here holds the essence of Ahriman, most powerful, bane of light.”

“Essence?  Like there’s a piece of something inside it?” Declan asked, holding the amulet up to his eye to study it.

“How can you touch that thing?” Darion asked, looking a bit disgusted.

“There’s only room in me for one big nasty at a time and Sorrow would eat this thing for breakfast,” Declan said without looking away from the amulet.  “It’s pitted a bit here at the top of the bulge.  Look, a tiny little opening.  Bet you could get a sample out of it.”

“Let’s not and say we did.  In fact, let’s find a way to contain it,” I said.

“Easy,” Declan said.  He set the amulet down on the coffee table and went into his messenger bag, pulling out an Altoids tin and a torn silk scarf.

The Altoids weren’t all gone, so he popped two in his mouth.  Immediately, Darion stuck out a hand and the kid dropped two in his palm.  Tanya and I copied Darion, and she got two and I got one plus a small pile of white peppermint powder.  Declan grinned at me and shrugged.  “She beats me up harder than you,” he said by way of explaining the uneven distribution.  I ate the mint and dumped the powder as we watched him tie the amulet into a square he cut from the scarf with his pocketknife.

“You always carry ladies scarves with you?” Darion asked.

“What can I say… they’re always leaving them in my crib,” Declan said with a straight face as he pulled a Sharpie and started putting runes on the inside of the tin.

“Yeah, like you got game?” Darion asked, incredulous.

Declan met his gaze levelly for a few seconds, then grinned.  “Okay, so maybe I buy a few in consignment shops to have a cheap source of silk on hand for just this kind of emergency.  Silk is a natural insulator of supernatural energy.”

Next, our resident warlock pulled out a little restaurant-sized packet of salt and tore it open, pouring some in the bottom of the tin.  He put the little bundle of silk into the tin and poured the rest of the salt on top.  Then he closed the tin and tied it shut with another strip of silk.

“That should hold it,” he said.

I looked it over with my Sight.  The lines of light were a little fuzzy around it, but none of the blackness was visible.  Not bad.

“So the stolen art is now concealed.  What next?” Darion asked.

Another knock came at the door and Nika slipped in without waiting for an invite.

She looked first at me and then to Tanya, giving a single sharp nod.

“He did it?” I asked.

“In two cases, yes.  In the others, he ordered it done.  He has an associate who specializes in hits using medical means like drugs or diseases,” Nika said.

“He’s dead,” Tanya pronounced.

“Hold up there!” Darion said, looking alarmed.  Tanya looked determined, unfazed by his objection.

“Actually, Darion’s right,” I said.  Her expression changed into a frown.

“The Church of the True is seeking to discredit us.  Cured children dying of medical complications will instantly turn the world against us.  We’ll be tried and judged in a heartbeat.  If the head of their security suddenly dies right after confronting us, the finger of blame will be pointed in our direction, further sealing public opinion against us,” I said.  “We need to get the evidence to show that Cuttle killed and ordered children killed at the request of the Church of the True.”

Darion was nodding in agreement even as I mentally sent my mate an image of Cuttle dying immediately after his guilt became public.  Despite Darion’s attempts to rein in her vampire instincts, I knew nothing would appease her in this case but his death.  She had met every one of those healed children face to face and this was scary personal to her.  In fact, she had been warming to children a great deal over the last few months, so to have these that she felt responsible for murdered tripped every predatory switch she had.

“So what’s our plan?” Declan asked.

“Nika, did you get anything that will help?” I asked.

“He covered his tracks very well… at least, he thinks he did.  He was gloating over it as they walked out.  But I wonder if the electronic traces he left aren’t discoverable to a person of unmatched computer skill?” she suggested, deliberately looking at everyone except Declan.

“That sounds like Simon—just ask him,” Declan said.  Nika crossed her arms and gave him an exasperated look.  “Okay, okay, stop… you’re embarrassing me,” he deadpanned.

“That Aussie girl is right—you are an arsey one,” Nika said.

“Enough.  Kids died.  Let’s bury this guy,” Tanya said, instantly sobering up the brief levity.  “Nika and Declan, work on digging up those traces.  Chris, my zayka, do you think your private intelligence guy would want a job digging into this medical hitman?”

“You know, as long as it doesn’t involve Anvil, I think he’d be game for most anything,” I said.

“Darion, I want you to look into the Church of the True’s legal structure, documented history, and Castille’s background.  Let’s find some dirt to bury them under,” she said.

Darion nodded although he gave her a questioning look.  One of Darion’s invaluable talents was judging people.  I didn’t think he was fooled by her seeming acceptance of my less bloody idea.

Nika and Declan left to begin the search; Nika speaking in a dead-on perfect Australian accent that left the kid wincing.

Darion hurried out, maybe more motivated to get away from the scary mad vampire than to begin his investigation.

That left me alone with the mad vampire.  “Hungry?” I asked her in an obvious attempt to get her mind off the murdered children.

“No,” she said, shaking her head.  “No appetite.”  One of her hands unconsciously touched her stomach, as if it was more than a lack of hunger.

“You feel alright?” I asked.

“Of course.  I’m Darkkin.  I don’t get sick, remember? And don’t try to steal my anger.  It’s an honest rage.  Those children were healed perfectly, then murdered.  I want him, Christian, I want him dead.”

“In time, Tanya, in time.”

Chapter 24 – Declan

I glanced at Nika as we rode the elevator down.  “Arsey, huh?”

“Just figured you were missing the Aussie accent, what with some of the interns blaming you and all,” she said, staring straight ahead.

“Some?  Try all.  And I wasn’t missing it,” I said.

“Bloody ‘ell ya weren’t,” she said.

“You know it’s hotter when you say it anyway,” I said, almost immediately regretting my words.

She snorted.  “Older than your grandmother, kid.  Besides, I’m not the blonde you like, am I?” she asked, arching a brow.

I clamped down my shields, but obviously the damage was done.

“Now you block me?” she asked, incredulous.  “A little late.  Listen, Declan, I don’t go around trying to read my friends, but I do check up on their mental health when they bring down enough electricity to power the city.  I saw what I saw,” she said.  “Besides, it doesn’t take a mind reader to see it.”

I groaned, leaning my head against the wall.  “Tell me it’s not obvious to her?”

“Sorry.  Want me to lie?” she asked.  I shook my head. “Well, she’s observant, and you wouldn’t be the first guy whose attention she captured.”

“I’m like the ten thousandth, which is what makes it more pathetic,” I said.

“Pathetic?  Hold up there, kiddo.  Pathetic is the guy who sees her picture in a magazine and develops an obsession.  You, on the other hand, have seen her in wolf and beast forms, fought at her side, witnessed her own obsessions, and yet never flinched.  How many hot and bothered assholes would be okay with her changing into a seven-foot werewolf?  Try none.”

“Yeah, well, you said it yourself: she’s obsessed with Chris,” I said.

“Of course.  He saved her from a monster, helped her adapt to becoming what she is, gave her a new life of hope, helped her mother, and fought to the death for her.  That’s all gonna leave a mark on a girl’s heart.  But if I know anything, I know he is well and truly taken.  At some point, she’ll realize that, too,” Nika said.  “Listen, I have some work to do before we’ll have a starting point for your computer hunt.  Why don’t you go down to the gym and help a team member who is feeling inadequate with her combat performance?  And speaking of which, can you really make ammo effective against those robots?”

“Yeah, already made some for Arkady to try out against Thing One.  The runes on the bullets disrupt the centipedes’ electronics.  Takes quite a few hits though,” I said, mind already on the gym.

The elevator dinged and Nika got off, but not before she pushed the button for the gym floor.

When the doors opened again, I immediately heard the sounds of sparring.  And they sounded frustrated.

Stacia was faced off with Thing Two, dressed in workout gear and still using those metal batons.  As I watched, she launched an attack too similar to the one she’d used the other day.   Thing Two caught her feint and smacked her with one of its padded blades, knocking her flying, batons clattering.

“They learn pretty fast,” I commented.  She picked herself up, frowned at me, and then got a drink of water.

I walked over and picked up one of her batons.   “You really plan to fight them with these, like that?” I asked, waving at her semi-clothed form.

“Well, no, but if I can beat them like this, then it should be easier in beast form,” she said, frown moving to a full glare.

Moving over to the weapons locker, I poked around till I saw what I was looking for. “Train as you would fight, Levi always says.” I repeated my instructor’s favorite phrase, tossing her the heavy metal staff that was obviously made for a vampire to wield. A big vampire.  It was seven feet long and made of steel and had to weigh seven or eight pounds.

She caught it and held it lightly despite the weight.  It was still way too long for her.

“Awkward,” she said.

“In that form, yes.  In your combat form, it’s probably too small.  I think we should find some demo tools.  Or firefighter entry tools or whatever.  The pedes have never fought a were with hand weapons before.  Improvised ones, yeah, but hardened tool steel?  Never.”

She looked at the big bo staff in her hand and then at Thing Two, frowning.

“Is this some stupid trick to get me to strip down naked?” she asked.

“Well, I’m not going to lie… that would be ideal, but look, I’ll turn my back and everything,” I said, doing just that.  Behind me, I heard the metal bar rattle against the floor as she set it down, then witnessed her sports bra and shorts go flying over my head to land on her gear bag.  Then I heard a grunt and the distinctive wet popping sound of a were transforming.  I turned slowly, thinking she would be caught in the throes of the Change but instead found myself looking into the green eyes of a seven-foot tall, two-legged, white-furred, over-muscled wolf-beast of tooth and claw.

“Holy shit, you Change fast,” I said, eyeing her massive form.  She was big, but much smaller and leaner than the weres at Arcane.  Near the end of the semester, a couple of them, including Delwood, had learned to take the beast-man form.  Delwood was much more massive than Stacia, which only made sense.  “The kids at Arcane would still be writhing around on the floor,” I said.

She said nothing, which was mostly because she couldn’t speak anymore.  Instead, she stood and watched me as I looked her over.  I had fought next to her and sparred with her, but I had never studied her beast form up close and personal before.  Her eyes were a lighter green, approaching yellow, and very predatory as they watched me.  She stood, heavy torso heaving with breath as she shook off the trauma of the Change, staring at me like I was lunch.  Huge hands flexed, making long, needle-sharp claws glitter in the florescent light.

I picked up the heavy staff and stepped forward, right up into her space.  “Here, take this and swing it at that bug over there and stop acting like I’m Irish takeout.”

My abrupt manner startled her.  Matthew, my were friend at Arcane, had told me that taking either wolf or beast form left him feeling very predatory.  The trick was to not be prey-like, even for an instant. It pushed the beast back and let the human come forward.

Her heavy paw-hands closed around the rod automatically and her head turned to follow my pointing finger.  Then she growled, deep, and it raised the hair on the back of my neck as part of my brain tried insistently to let me know I was in danger.  I stamped down that part of my primitive caveman brain and stepped back, slowly, as she turned her body to face the big metal bug.

She hefted the staff, which seemed kinda twig-like in her big paw-fist, and stalked forward.  The staff was really too small, but I had a flash of memory.  My first day here, parking Beast.  I backed out of the gym just as she roared and jumped forward into combat.

The elevator was too slow, and I only had to go up one floor to the parking garage, as the gym was on the first level of living quarters.

Beast was tucked into a kind of alcove in the back of the parking level, and right where I remembered it, there was a utility closet of sorts.  I had looked it over my first day and now I found what I recalled seeing: a heavy-duty pinch bar, only five feet long but at least twenty-five or thirty pounds of tool steel.  Behind it, just in front of the snow shovel and to the side of the push broom, was a heavy sledgehammer, maybe a twenty pounder.  Perfect.  Grabbing both, I raced to the stairs and ran down to the gym level, arms aching by the time I got there.

A really pissed-off white werewolf was backed into a corner, poking at a giant black centipede with a noticeably bent steel bo staff.

“Time out,” I called, instantly stopping the robot pede and receiving a truly frustrated toothy glare from the were.  “Try these,” I said, handing her the tools.

She lifted the sledge in her right hand and the pry bar in her left, swinging them experimentally.  Then she put her head back and roared.

“Fight on,” I called, more to the robot, as the werewolf was already closing in.  It wasn’t smooth, at least at first, but it was a drastically different fight.  Gradually, Stacia learned to use both the steel tools with her differently constructed beast form, creating her own versions of werewolf escrima.  The pede now found itself on the defense.  The fight raged across the floor and I found myself backing up to the entrance.  A whisper caught my ear. “Hey Sabrina, what’s happening?”

Lydia was standing in the doorway, watching the fight, arms crossed. She answered her own question before I could. “Nicely done, Intern O’Carroll.  Although I think she could use something even bigger, don’t you?” she asked me, eyes still on the fight.  The clanging and ringing of metal was loud enough to make my eyes water. I don’t know how she could stand it with vampire ears.

I pulled my phone and Google searched for companies that sold firefighter tools, then showed her the result.

“Awesome.  I’ll call this local company,” she said, tapping the screen where it listed local suppliers, “and get a selection delivered.  That’ll leave at least one more team member prepared for bugs.”  Her frown told me the rest.

“Lydia, I’ve got the rounds mostly worked out.  I was telling Nika about them.  Now I just have to rune up a few hundred or so,” I said.

“A few thousand, Junior, at least.  Nine mil, ‘cause that’s what we shoot,” she said.  Apparently somebody else wasn’t happy being a drag on the team.  But a thousand?  Damn, there went my nights… and days.

Out on the floor, there was a particularly loud clang followed by a louder thump.  Thing Two was down and unmoving and Stacia was lifting the sledge high over her head in what promised to be a death blow.

“Stop!” I yelled, leaving Lydia and running across the floor.  Reluctantly, the massive wolf-girl lowered her weapon and stepped back to let me get at the stricken robot.

After a moment of laying hands on the carapace armor, I leaned back.  “Interesting.  You managed to stun it, at least temporarily,” I said over my shoulder.  Thing Two was starting to come back online.  Then I heard the pry bar and the sledge clatter to the ground.  Before I could turn and look, two massive clawed hands had grabbed my upper arms and pulled, my feet leaving the ground, my body instantly smashing into an iron-hard torso that had two softer appendages right about where my head was nestled.

It happened fast.  Too fast to shield up, faster than my glyphs could help me.  But my flare of panic receded when I realized that I wasn’t in a death grip but a hug.  Feet swinging helplessly, I rode it out till she chose to put me down.  The massive white-furred arms loosened and Changed, becoming slim, tanned female arms that rose up, hands grabbing my head as a loud smacking kiss landed on the back of my head.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said from behind me.  I didn’t dare turn around although I desperately wanted to.  Bare feet padded back toward the door and her gear.  I cautiously turned, catching a rear view that every paparazzi in New York would pay dearly to photograph. Part of me was glad to note that Lydia had disappeared.  Most of me was captivated by the sight before me.

She started to put her workout clothes back on and I managed to turn my head.  I’m not going to lie—it was a battle.  But I turned my focus to Thing Two, noting the internal diagnostic damage with my head, and the dented and bent exterior with my eyes.

“That was a closer fight,” I said.

“No it wasn’t,” she said from right behind me.  Her approach had been silent.

“Oh?” I asked, glancing back.  Her platinum hair swung free, framing her face and her green, green eyes.

“I held back—after the first couple of exchanges.  I think I could have finished it quicker.”

“Can you remember where you hit it when you stunned it?” I asked.

She nodded, pointing to the middle of the metal monster.  “Right in the center there.  Both ends came up off the ground like some kind of reflex and then crashed back down.”

I held my left hand over the sledgehammer-shaped dent in the carapace.  “Hmm, there’s a sensor cluster here.  Like a really complex accelerometer or possibly a bunch of them.  Maybe hitting it there leaves it… I don’t know… dizzy?  Could be its version of a solar plexus.”

She shrugged and smiled hugely.  “I don’t know,” she said, obviously less worried about the mechanics and more than happy with the results.

“Lydia saw some of your fight.  She’s having a selection of heavy demolition tools delivered tomorrow for you to look over,” I said.

She frowned, looking back at the worn tools on the floor.  “What’s the matter with these?”

“Nothing.  But we thought you might like to peruse what’s out there.  Some have nasty-looking hooks and there’s a maul that has a hammer face and a spike point.  If those don’t do it, my buddy Mack is working in a blacksmith’s shop this summer.  He could probably make you some custom stuff, built to your other size.”

“Custom?  Hmm.  He wouldn’t mind?” she asked, actually serious.

I felt the grin on my face.  “Are you shitting me?  He’d have bragging rights forever that he’d made weapons for Stacia Reynolds.”

She frowned.

“You do realize how famous you are, right?” I asked.  “Every were—hell—every guy at Arcane is like in love with you.  I wouldn’t want to try and guess how many posters of you decorate the dorms,” I said.

“That’s… a little disturbing.  I mean, flattering yes, but still disturbing.  Do you have a poster of me?” she asked.

I shook my head.  “No—better.  I have a picture of us sparring in that old warehouse in Burlington.  Chris took it for me and I got it framed. I actually look like I have a chance, at least for that one moment.  Then if I recall, you flattened me.”

She smirked for a moment. “It’s in your room?” she asked.

Suddenly I felt maybe a bit stalkerish.  “Ah yeah.  Is that creepy?”

She smiled.  “Not even slightly.”  Her smile faded.  “Those posters… what do they show?”

I frowned.  “You, obviously.”

“What else?”

“Just you.  One is you in that designer dress you did the photo shoot in, the other is you in yoga clothes.”

“No other pictures… of my other forms?” she asked.

“Oh.  One poster, the yoga one, has a white wolf picture imposed in the corner, but it’s not you.  It has brown eyes, not green,” I said.

“So how do you think all these fan boys would react to my combat form?  Or wolf form?” she asked.

“Well, the were boys would genuflect.  The other guys… I don’t know.  Probably shit a brick.”

“Genuflect?  That’s cute.  Most of the guys in the Pack get pissed off when I change so fast.  Many of them can’t take that form.  The ones that can want me to mate for life and have their babies in a cave somewhere while I make them sandwiches and bring them beer,” she said.  “Normal guys get really scared of me if they see the other forms.”

“Well, they’re losers then.  That’s stupid,” I said.  “You’re a werewolf. That’s what you do.  And you seem to change faster and easier than any werewolf I’ve ever seen.”

“When I first got bit, Chris healed me.  Some of his blood got in the wound first, though.  We think it sorta streamlined the LV virus’s adaptation to my body.  That’s Doc Singh’s theory, at least.”

“Oh,” I said, not liking that Chris had somehow intruded on our moment without even being present.

“But enough of that. Let me change and then we can go grab some food—my treat.  I’m starving,” she said.

“Ah, okay.  Then I probably gotta get back here and make about a billion rounds of rune ammo for Lydia and Nika,” I said with a groan.

“Hard work?”

“Boring.  And it kills my back to be hunched over a big magnifier, etching little runes into bullets.”

“The trials of being a kid wizard,” she mocked.

“Listen wiseass, how about a fourth form?  Something like a combat sea slug or maybe lizard girl?” I suggested.

“Hah.  Good one, Potter.  Now wait here while I go shower and change.  Then we can talk about important stuff like custom werewolf weapons,” she said, disappearing into the girls’ locker room.

Mack was gonna shit his pants when I called him about her choices, especially if I put her on the line with him.  I toyed with texting him to tell him I was going to dinner with her, but found I didn’t really want to.  It was just dinner—between friends—and I just wanted to keep it to myself.

She will be yours.  Sorrow had been silent for most of the afternoon. I’d almost forgotten he was in there. He only spoke four words, but they were the worst he could have said.  She wasn’t going to be mine.  She was in love with Chris, but the stupid book had to go and put that thought in my stupid head.  Idiot.

I sat down and pulled my Macbook from my bag, opening up a browser and searching demolition tools.  Better to focus on the topic at hand than entertain ideas that would never be.

Chapter 25 – Chris

Tanya’s office had become a war room by the time I left.  Darion sat in the conversation area, talking on his cell phone and making notes on a borrowed pad on the coffee table, no doubt firing up his firm’s staff of legal eagles to dig up dirt.

Tanya had a small flock of her analysts by her desk, issuing orders for a microscopic investigation into the Church of the True’s finances, supporters, and connections.  Myself, well, I put the Altoid tin in my pocket, waved goodbye, and headed off to church.

Manhattan has dozens of churches, to say nothing of synagogues and temples.  So I had lots of choices.  However, the Grace Church on Broadway had intrigued me for the last couple of months, with its Gothic revival architecture.  It looked like a cathedral from Europe, like the way a big city church is supposed to look.

One of the security guys drove me to the church and I quickly found myself inside and just as quickly, if not quicker, Barbiel found me.

“Christian—I did not expect you. What is that smell?  Oh my, what do you have there in your pocket?” he asked, speaking the same instant he appeared.  He was wearing a green and gold t-shirt that said Scorpios Rule, other signs drool and jeans that looked suspiciously designer in nature.

“Hello Barbiel.  It’s what I wanted to ask you about.  We think it channels some form of Arabian demon or something, but we need to know more.  Like what it could do for the wearer or to the wearer, where it might have come from, things like that?” I asked.

“It’s foul and you’re stinking up the place with it,” he said, leaning back from me like I had body odor.

“You can smell it?  Declan thought his protections would contain it,” I said.

“Contain the demonic essence, not its stench.  It’s a lesser demon, but notable in that it was born from a human who had congress with a true demon.  Because of that, it had an actual physical form.  The amulet contains a piece of that form… a claw, I think,” he said, holding one hand over the tin I produced from my pocket.  He backed up a step and held both hands out, palms up.  Golden fire appeared, flaring above his skin without heat.  “Toss it into the flames, Christian, and be done with it.”

“Ah, no.  Not yet.  We need to find out more about it,” I said, launching into an explanation of the Church of the True and our suspicions.

“So the security guy had this piece of filth?” he asked when I finished.

“Yeah, and it blocked Nika from reading him like a book.  Up until Declan stole it from him,” I said.

“You and Lailah have come to rely on the boy a great deal,” he noted.  “Another special soul you have called to your side, Malahidael.  Most of the Brethren are puzzled each time you choose one and then they suddenly seem to fit in like a missing puzzle piece.  This one has been in the making for as many generations as you, if not more.”

“You know about puzzle pieces?” I asked, stalling while I tried to wrap my head around what he was saying.

He arched elegant eyebrows.  “Have you any idea how many times I have been summoned to the homes of the aged?  How many chapels there are in homes of nursing?”

“Point,” I said.  Those places were where puzzles went to die.

“When the boy was corrupted by the book, Uriel thought he was lost to your cause, but frankly he thought the same thing when you were tainted with demon blood.  I told him to watch and wait.  Now, instead of the book changing the boy, the boy changes the book.  Fascinating.  Also, did you know he is smitten with your wolf?”

“Yeah, yeah I got that.  What’s this about the boy changing the book?”

“Sorrow is an object of Power.  It should have corrupted the boy as it has corrupted everyone it has touched.  That hasn’t happened.  In fact, it seems as if the boy has begun to corrupt the book, as it were,” he said, smiling at his own words.  Then he noticed the look on my face, which I suspect was pretty much gobsmacked.  “Oh, it is not a certain thing and not at all complete.  In fact, it could still go the other way if the boy loses his way.  But at least Uriel has stopped his blathering.”

“Isn’t Uriel one of the Archangels?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Barbiel was definitely outranked by Uriel.

“And yet he still retains the ability to blather,” he said archly.

“So back to this demon thing.  Where would Cuttle get it?”

“Is he a warrior?” Barbiel asked.

“Well, he was a soldier, if that’s what you mean.  Oh.  You think he picked it up on a tour of Iraq or Afghanistan?” I asked.

“That would be logical. I’m puzzled that it led him to a church, unless as you say, this church is not truly of Yahweh.  Tell me more about this bible that the false preacher carries?” he asked. “That is much more worrisome.  Corrupting the Word of God is exceedingly difficult.  However, if it is accomplished, the resulting book becomes a powerful weapon of Lucifer’s minions.”

“How powerful?” I asked.

“The boy was easily able to snatch the demon necklace from its holder, no?  Yet the bible was beyond both his powers and the power lent to him by Sorrow.  In fact, it would be wise to keep the boy away from the preacher.  Remember I said the boy could still turn out wrong?”

“Yeah, I was gonna ask you about that,” I said.

“I should hope so.  The one with the bible is one of the possible ways he could be turned against you.”

“What are the others?” I asked.

“Temptation is greatest among them.  He has vast power and he is not of the Brethren as you and Lailah are.  Yet he does not abuse it, instead showing great strength of character.  But what if he did, Christian?  What if something pushed him over the edge?”

“You’re saying he could go over to the dark side if he lost his temper?  But he’s lost it before?” I asked.

“Has he?  Truly?  He became enraged when the blonde wolf was injured, but that is part of his pattern.  He protects his friends and cherished ones.  The closest he has come so far was when he was beaten by the wolf boy at his place of learning.  His power was bound in that instance, which was a good thing, for it gave him time to put things in perspective.  But now he carries a dark object inside him, one that will twist his perspective if something similar were to happen again.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” I asked.  “Bubble wrap him?”

He looked at me confused and I was about to explain but a sudden look of enlightenment came over him.

“You mean shelter him from the world?  No, that is something you must not do.  He has an important role to play, as do you and all of your team.  And you all must come to it of your own free wills.  No, I would just make sure he is not drawn into something that leaves him feeling as he did that day in his school.  This time, he will lash out and with what Yahweh has given him to bear, it will be bad.”

“Do you know where this is all headed?” I asked the angel.

“No, of course not. I am given pieces of it to work on, but I am just a soldier in God’s army just as you are.  I do understand the way He works, if not how or why.  In fact, come to think of it, I may have a better grasp of that than Uriel and some of the others.”

“You speak of us having free will but following some unknown plan of God’s that is incredibly complicated and almost foreordained.  I don’t see how that’s free will?” I asked.

“When a watchmaker builds a watch, he finds or makes each piece, planning how it will fit together with the rest. Each working according to its nature. Then, when it is all together, he tries it out.  Sometimes it works immediately, but mostly he must tweak this piece or tune that one, even having to occasionally replace one entirely.  When he is done, the watch will usually run.  But if the springs are wound too tight or made too stiff, the strain can strip gears or cause a part to break or fail.

“Christian, Yahweh has been building these clockworks since time began.  Infinite skill can look much like fate, but there are still parts that can break or fail.”

I tried to wrap my head around what he was saying, but imagining a machine made up of human lives that was hundreds of years in the making was too much for me.

“So what do we do?”

“First, do you have the demon in the can?  Good, throw it here,” he said, his tone instructive.

I tossed the Altoid tin to him but instead of catching it on his open palm, he instead produced the same golden fire and the tin disappeared in a puff of greasy black smoke.

“Hah, now maybe that stink will clear,” he said, looking sly.  My rather naïve angel was getting tricky.

“Now you must follow your instincts.  You and Lailah are fine hunters.  You will work together to defeat this false preacher, but you must keep the boy separate from him or that part will fail and the watch will explode,” he said.

“Great, we were relying on Declan’s skills to find evidence linking the Church of the True to the murders of those children,” I said.

“And you still can.  Just don’t use him when you confront the preacher.  Keep him busy on another important task. Him and the wolf girl.  She will distract him.  And also know that in this, Sorrow will be your ally, as the book will not want its charge exposed to the twisted Word.”

“Charge?  I thought it was trying to use Declan to further its master’s dark plan?”

“No, the book was created to assist the dark witch.  Now it has modified its mission.  It seeks to assist the witch’s line,” Barbiel said.

“Line?  Declan is related to the witch that wrote Sorrow?”

“He is her direct descendent.  It is not by accident that he is as powerful as he is.  It comes to him from both his mother and father’s lineage.  Were you not listening when I said he was as long in the making as you were?”

“God plays the long game, huh?”

“The longest,” he agreed.

I was filled with conflicting emotions, confusion being chief among them.  But also, I was anxious about making a mistake, guilty at having to manipulate my intern and Stacia, and deep inside there was a tiny something that if I was truly honest might be jealousy.  Some part of me had grown used to being the object of Stacia’s affection and I found a roiling sense of dissatisfaction with throwing her at Declan.

But I belonged to Tanya and she to me.  The beautiful wolf girl would need to find her own happiness, whether it was with another were or possibly a teen witch who was only a few years younger then her.

On top of all of that was the unease of tackling an unholy object that dressed like a holy one and could not only block Declan and his internal grimoire, but actually turn him to its own path.  I said goodbye to my angelic contact and headed for the car and Deckert’s driver.  Tanya and I had some major planning to do.

Chapter 26 – Declan

I would have known it for a Pack hangout even if half the customers and all of the restaurant’s staff hadn’t greeted Stacia by name.  First, there were the sidelong looks that I got as I trailed in after her.  Every one of those glances said you don’t belong here—locals only.  Then, there was the sniffing.  Either most of them wore fur when the moon was full or I had stumbled into a major cocaine den.  Honestly, the Malleks needed to spend some time coaching their people to act a bit more human and a little less like bloodhounds on a hot scent.

The part that threw me was that it was an Indian Thai fusion place, with a very simple name, Gita’s.

The staff seemed all of the same family, the women beautiful in the manner of Bollywood actresses, the males all lean and muscular.  Stacia knew every one of them, although their greetings ranged from effusive by the guys to a mixture of reserved and warm from the women.  By that, I mean it was obvious that some of the females liked her and a couple were blatantly jealous of the attention she got.

That seemed to be the same kind of reception that the customers gave her as well.  Men smiling, women mostly not.  I hadn’t realized that extraordinary looks might bring along a burden as well as grant its holder privileges.  The looks that I got, after it was clear that I was with her, were the opposite.  At least from the males.  Instant hostility.  The females were just speculative.

Indian music played in hidden speakers and the air smelled of curry and other spices.  The room was painted in bright reds and yellows, with Indian tapestries on several of the walls.

Stacia seemed comfortable with the greetings that were friendly and just ignored everyone else.  A woman came out of the back, seemingly just a bit older than the waitresses, and she smiled hugely at the sight of the blonde werewolf in front of me.

“Stacia dear, you have been avoiding us,” she admonished with a warm smile, grasping both of Stacia’s outstretched hands.

“No Gita, I’ve been very, very busy with work,” Stacia said.  Gita studied her for a moment before pulling her into a hug, her eyes now focused on me over Stacia’s shoulder.

She released Stacia and turned my way.  “Hi, I’m the work that’s been keeping her busy,” I said before either of them could speak.

“Gita, this is Declan.  He’s Chris and Tanya’s intern this summer,” Stacia said.  Around us, the conversations had quieted and I could almost feel the restaurant’s inhabitants listening from every part of the large room, not even attempting to hide their interest.

“Intern? What would they need with an intern?” Gita asked, eyes alight with intense curiosity.

Stacia quirked a grin in my direction, keeping quiet and leaving me on my own to answer her.

“Well, they sponsor my school, so you know, I guess they feel obligated to host a kid,” I said, trying to figure out what to say.

A definitely unfeminine snort sounded next to me, causing both Gita and I to glance at an amused Stacia.  Gita’s eyes lingered on Stacia for a moment before coming back to me.

“School.  I believe they sponsor a school in Vermont,” she said, a furrow forming between her brows as she tried to solve the puzzle.

“That’s the very one,” I said, nodding and wishing like hell that the amused blonde at my side would take over this painful conversation.

“You go to Arcane?” Gita asked tentatively.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then you might know young Mr. Tinkelli over there?” she suggested, turning and pointing at a family of four seated in a corner booth who were watching us with undisguised interest.  The parents turned to the older of their two children, a male my age who was trying to hide behind his menu.  With that ploy obviously not working, Morgan Tinkelli met my eyes and offered a little wave.  I waved back.  “Hey Morgan,” I said, keeping my voice at the same speaking volume that we had been using.  He nodded, and I saw his lips form a “Hey Declan” although I couldn’t actually hear it.

“You are not one of us,” Gita stated, not unkindly.

“No ma’am.  I’m a different breed of kid,” I said.

“Gita, do you have room for us?” Stacia broke in, ending my immediate misery.  “We’ve been working hard today and we’re ravished.”

“Of course, dear,” Gita said, still studying me.  Then her manner turned businesslike and she led us to a small table near the back by the door I assumed was for the kitchen.  One of the younger girls came over, smiling at Stacia and looking me up and down curiously as she handed us menus.

When the same young girl came back to pour ice water, her mother came with her with a starter plate of chicken kabobs.  I ordered a chicken curry that seemed safe and Stacia ordered about four other dishes including basmati rice with peas, some kind of spiced potato balls, coconut battered shrimp, and pad thai noodles with beef.

“You like spicy?” she asked.

“We’re talking food, right?” I asked back.

“Hah, big talker.  Runs from little Aussie girls,” she said.

“Well, she and her friends blame me for the nasty effects of the bitters mixture they drank in the bar the other night.  If I run from her now, it’s because she’ll be waving a knife.”

“Shouldn’t she blame her boss, Tanya, for that?  You just played bartender, right?” she asked.

“You might think that, but it’s easier to blame the weird witch guy than the cool vampire boss who’s paying you lots of money.”

“That seems unfair,” she suggested, biting into a kabob with gleaming white teeth.

“Life is not renowned for fairness.  It honestly doesn’t bother me all that much.  I’m used to it from normals.  My friends at school would have seen it differently, so I’m not so worried about this group,” I said, chomping into my own skewer.  Instantly, a stream of heat bloomed in my mouth and throat, blossoming into an exquisite burn that sent my hand for the glass of ice water.

“Packs a punch, right?” she asked laughing.

“You could say that,” I gasped, then immediately took another bite.

She laughed again, chewing her own kabob without any outward sign of discomfort.

“I couldn’t eat this stuff before,” she said.  “Now I love it.”

I deciphered the before as in before the Change to being a werewolf.  “So how does this—” I waved a hand at the ambience “—fit in with the Pack?”

“Gita and her husband, Klahan, are both wolves.  They met overseas, maybe in Thailand; I’m not sure.  They chose to relocate to America and start their own restaurant.  As you can see, their children make up most of their staff.  It’s become a favorite hangout.”

“Okay, India has wolves, right?  But what about Thailand?” I asked.

“Not so much, but LV has spread in small amounts to most every country.  Klahan is a bitten wolf like me.  Gita was born to it,” she said.

“And Pack always mate with other wolves right?” I asked.

“Nope.  There’s not enough weres for that.  Wolves mate with whoever they pick, although staying within the species is highly encouraged.  Some of the couples here are mixed, were, and normal,” she said softly.

I realized we were still being monitored by the nosey wolves of her Pack.  Before I could change the subject, Gita appeared in the door of the kitchen and waved to Stacia to come to her.

“I’ll be right back.  Klahan probably wants to say hi and he’s the key to the kitchen, so he can’t come out,” she said, hopping up lithely and wending her way through the tables. “Maybe you want to say hi to your friend? Morgan, is it?”

I just waved and nodded, allowing her to disappear into the kitchen.  I knew Morgan a little but we weren’t what I would call friends.

I took the opportunity to snag another kabob.  No sooner had I bitten off a big chunk of particularly hot chicken than shadows fell across the table.

Two men stood staring at me, eyes very unfriendly and flashing a hint of yellow.  One was an inch shorter than me but wider and probably twenty pounds heavier, the other taller and forty or so pounds heavier.  Gulping down the chicken, I found my throat closing around the hot spices, requiring me to drink water quickly.

Appearing disadvantaged for any reason is a bad way to meet werewolves.  They perceive it as weakness and after that recalibrating, their perception of you is a bitch.

“Yeah,” I finally choked out.

“You would be smart to aim a great deal lower, sheep,” the bigger of the two said.  I had learned enough at school to understand the situation almost immediately.  Some weres use the term sheep for normal humans.  It’s not universal, and many weres find it uncomfortable if not outright offensive.  Oddly, it’s usually the bitten weres who fling it about.  These were unmated males who thought they had a shot with Stacia.

“You don’t really know her at all, do you?” I asked.  Looking back, I realize I could have said a great many other things, but what can I say?  Bullies bring out the bad in me.

“You are not one of us.  She is.  We’re giving you the benefit of a warning,” the smaller one said.

Necrosis genitalia, Sorrow suggested.  That sounded pretty bad.  Perhaps suppurating boils on the buttocks? He offered.

The restaurant had gone quiet and everyone was watching us.  From the corner of one eye, I could see our young waitress hurry into the kitchen.  Behind the two wolves, I could see my friend Morgan talking rapidly and urgently to his parents.  Morgan was aware of my feelings on bullies.  He was trying to get his family to leave.  That realization calmed me more than anything else.  This was not a place for me to respond as I might like.

“Great.  Good talk.  Consider the message delivered,” I said.

“What message would that be?” Stacia asked quietly from the kitchen doorway.

I waved a hand to the two wolves that the ball was in their court.

“You should not bring his kind here,” the larger one said.

“Your name is Ty, right?” she asked.  He nodded.  “And you feel you can tell me who I can bring where?” she asked in a dangerous tone.  “Is this your place?” she asked.

The big one started to nod, but the smaller one elbowed him as Gita’s eyebrows rose.  “Really?  You will tell me who might come into my restaurant?” Gita asked, moving up to stand beside Stacia.

“This is a Pack place.  His kind don’t belong here,” the larger one said stubbornly and with mind-blowing stupidity.

“Kind?  What kind?” Stacia asked, almost a whisper.  Her eyes were bright yellow and she scratched one ear with a finger that had grown a claw.

The smaller one stepped back slightly, but the bigger one blundered on.  “Sheep.  He’s a sheep.”

Stacia froze, eyes wide.  Then she laughed.  It was the surprised laugh of someone truly taken off guard.

“Oh wow. Are you wrong.  How have you survived this long?” she asked.

“That’s a good question,” a deep voice said from the entrance to the restaurant.  Brock Mallek loomed in the opening, an attractive woman just in front of him and an adolescent boy at his side.  “Just how have you two managed to live this long?”

Both men instantly cowered in place, shoulders slumping and heads falling forward in submission.  “Alpha, we didn’t know you were there,” the smaller one said.

“You obviously don’t know much, Scott.  You don’t know whose restaurant you are standing in, telling patrons to leave.  You don’t know Stacia at all if you think bullying her friends is the key to her heart.  And you’ve made a spectacularly bad choice of people to threaten,” Brock said.

“If you want to make it through your first decade as a wolf, you’ll have to learn to read people better.  He’s not a wolf or a were, so you naturally felt like you had the upper hand.  You forgot that our Stacia doesn’t suffer fools, so at best, you would be facing her wraith.  Then you took it upon yourself to threaten one of Gita’s customers.  Now you face the entire wraith of her clan.  But the biggest mistake was thinking our young friend there was sheeplike.  I think you mistook his patience for weakness.  Look at him—does he look frightened?  Intimidated?” Brock asked, moving closer till he was right between the two wolves.  He dwarfed them as he put a big hand on each one’s shoulder and pulled them roughly around to look at me.

“Well?” he asked, shaking them both.

“Not particularly, sir,” the smaller one said.

“Ty?  What do you think?” Brock asked.

“He might feel that we won’t attack him in here?” Ty said, confirming his spot as moron of the year.

“Ty, what if I tell you that this young man is a special intern to Chris Gordon?  What do you think that implies?” Brock asked.

“We know that, sir.  Stacia told Gita that,” Ty said.

“You knew that and you still picked a fight?” Brock asked, incredulous.

“You mean that Mr. Gordon would beat us up if we hurt his intern?” Scott, the smaller one, offered.

“Well, that’s certainly one thought that should have held you up.  But tell me, do you think just anyone is handpicked to be an intern to the Hammer of God?” Brock pressed.

“You’d have to be tough as a mofo to work for him,” the young boy who was obviously Brock’s son, or clone, said, coming up alongside his dad.

“See that?  My twelve-year-old son, Bryce, has seen what you have somehow missed.  Chris Gordon’s intern must have something going for him or he wouldn’t survive the first day at work, would he?  Perhaps it’s for the best that you had the balls and the gall to address him here and now.  I shudder to think what might have happened if you had jumped him outside the restaurant,” Brock said.

Stacia grimaced as she thought about that, then her expression hardened.  The two idiots in front of me looked bewildered and embarrassed, the smaller one looking like he might want to find a hole to crawl into.  The bigger one still had just a hint of defiance about him.

“You’re the witch, right?” Bryce asked me suddenly with the innocent brashness of kids.  His mother’s lips twitched in annoyance and I had the impression he might get a lesson in manners after this all ended.

“I am,” I said.

“You do magic like Criss Angel?” he pressed on. Behind him, his mother’s eyes darkened.

“Not like that, no.  That’s illusion.  What I do is real,” I said.

“Oh yeah?  He can levitate.  Can you?” he challenged.  His mother started forward but stopped at a gesture from Brock.

“That’s too easy.  Instead, why don’t I levitate you,” I said, twitching my fingers and tele-lifting him six inches off the floor.

“Whoa!  Mom, look at this!  I’m floating,” he said, turning to look at his mom.  Her expression was still dark, but now there was a hint of nervousness in it.

Hmm, let’s not make a werewolf mom upset, shall we?  With another twitch, I floated him a foot closer to her and then set him down.  Her hands landed on his shoulders and he was yanked close to her, then spun around to face me.  She whispered in his ear and his face went red.

“Sorry.  I shouldn’t have asked you about all that,” he said, meeting my eyes despite the embarrassment.  He was definitely an Alpha in the making.

“That’s okay,” I said.

Brock turned to the two wolves.  “Is that clear enough for you?”

Scott, the smaller one, nodded.  Ty, the idiot, frowned but also nodded.

Brock clumped them both hard on the shoulder. “The key, gentlemen, will be to see if you learned anything from this.  Now go.  Leave.”  It was an order, and one they instantly obeyed.  Ty shot me a few looks as he left.  He might be a remedial student.

Gita met them at the door.

“Do not darken my doorway until you are invited,” she said.  Her husband and three sons moved up on either side of her to emphasize her point.  Scott at least had the sense to look chagrined as he turned and walked out.

Brock turned back to Gita and her husband.  “I think we’ll join Stacia and our young friend here,” he said.  Immediately, the family produced a second table and three more chairs.

“You understand?” Brock’s wife asked Stacia.

“Yes, of course, Afina,” my friend replied, nodding in agreement.  It wasn’t ideal from my perspective, but when the Alphas decide they’re joining you, there isn’t much to say.

After a moment, I realized that the Malleks had really no choice.  They needed to show both solidarity with and complete lack of fear of the witch in the room.  My demonstration been relatively mild, the boy only coming up a few inches off the floor.  Most of the restaurant didn’t even see it.  It was probably a good thing I hadn’t lifted old Ty and smashed his head into the ceiling.  Sitting in the middle of a room full of frightened werewolves would probably be bad, I reflected.

It only took moments for the efficient family of restaurateurs to reset the table and Klahan to arrive with more kabobs, both chicken and beef.

“So, we’ve interrupted your dinner.  Were you discussing work?” Brock asked.

“No, Brock. We were about to talk weapons.  Beast-form-sized weapons,” Stacia said.

“Oh now you have my complete attention,” he said.  From the attentive looks on his wife and son’s faces, we had theirs as well.

“Well, it’s like this.  Claws and teeth don’t work well against metal armor and silver machine blades,” Stacia said, holding up her left forearm to show the thin white scar there.

“Machine blades?” Afina asked.

“This has to do with the Corporation’s antagonist, doesn’t it?” Brock asked, looking at me.

I nodded but let Stacia tell the story.  She never referred to Anvil by name, but instead kept her words generic.  Afina was obviously clued in as she nodded along as the tale was told.  More food came out, most of the restaurant continued to listen, and then both Alphas made suggestions about how to fight machines and the weapons she should choose.  Drawings were rendered on napkins and my glass of water had to be refilled many times as fiery morsels burned their way to my stomach.

“Well, what did you think?” Stacia asked after we said goodnight to the Alphas and Gita’s clan.

“I think your ability to heal must rebuild your stomachs every five minutes in that place,” I said, rubbing my own stomach.

“I meant about the Malleks and the others,” she said with mild exasperation.

“Yeah, they’re pretty fiery, too.  I met Brock at the board meeting.  He’s very sharp and forward.  His wife, too.  The kid’s just like him, but maybe a bit spoiled from being the Alphas’ kid.  Oh, and it must be lonely sometimes when every idiot guy thinks you’ve been missing out all your life until you met him, and every idiot girl gets jealous because you’re gorgeous,” I said, unlocking Beast’s passenger door while mentally powering down his protective wards.

“Thank you for not blasting those morons to pieces,” she said.

“Hey, your people, your place.  It wouldn’t have been respectful to get into anything with them.  Plus, I figured our waitress would let you know about it and then I could see how you wanted to handle it,” I said.

“Respectful? How old are you?” she asked.  “I know guys twice your age who wouldn’t have figured that all out.  But tell me, what would you have done?”

“Sorrow suggested Necrosis genitalia, which I think is a flesh-eating spell that attacks the victim’s junk.”

“Werewolves heal fast and are magically resistant to disease,” she pointed out.

“It’s a magic spell, so it would keep attacking as they kept healing.  Sorrow has had much experience with weres.”

“That’s… disturbing.  Was that really your first choice?” she asked as I climbed in the other side.

I started Beast.  “No.  That would be literally evil.  Never ending junk-eating disease?  That’s something you reserve for rapists,” I said. “I would likely just fling them out the door with some good old-fashioned telekinesis.”

“And they would likely Change and come charging back in,” she said.

“No, you mean Change and come charging back into an invisible wall,” I said.

“And you think that would keep determined weres out?”

“I think having your wolf head stuck in nothingness while curry and pepper powder blows right up your sensitive wolf nose might make an impression,” I said.

“Now that would have been interesting to see.  Although Brock would have had their heads off for Changing in the middle of the dinner hour in the middle of Manhattan,” she said. “You’re gonna want to pull out and stay in the right lane here.”

“Just stay crouched down so the damned paparazzi don’t see you,” I said, pulling out into traffic.  “And thanks for an interesting dinner.”

“Somehow, Mr. Warlock, I think more than half the interesting parts came from you,” she said, “ and turn right here.”

She missed my smile, being to busy navigating us back to Demidova world headquarters, but that was probably just as well.

Chapter 27 – Chris

There have been Pentagon briefings that weren’t as thorough as the one that Darion and Tanya’s teams delivered on the Church of the True and the Reverend Castille.

A young lawyer from Darion’s firm delivered the backstory on the not-so-good reverend.  Dressed in a sharp navy dress suit, the brunette esquire was probably close to the same age as Tanya and me, but her delivery was as polished and assured as someone ten years older.  She ran a projector remote as she spoke, never once referring to any notes.  The pictures began with a family photo.

“Daniel Castille was born Daniel Kane. He is forty-five years old.  His father was mayor of the town of Glint, Oregon; his mother the town historian.  When he was sixteen, his father was run out of office for having an affair with a council member.  Daniel’s family fell apart in the ensuing divorce.  At eighteen, he left his mother’s home and made his way north to Seattle, where he took a job at one of the city’s casinos.  By age twenty, he had been bitten hard by the gambling bug, and in his thirties, he was briefly successful on the poker circuit.  His good luck turned bad and he lost two big games the same night, a week after his thirty-sixth birthday. He only had enough stake to enter one, but he somehow fudged it and entered both.  He chose to skip town rather than make good on his debts.  Three months later, he turned up in Fairbanks, Alaska, again taking a job in a casino, only this time under the assumed name of Castille.  He met his attorney and later business partner there when the two embarked on a gold mining operation eighteen months after his arrival in Fairbanks.” Darion’s associate, whose name was Kate Doughton, had kept a series of photos of Daniel Castille flipping by as she spoke.  Now, she paused on a picture of what appeared to be a ghost town.

“The two spent a documented thirty-three days in the mine, located adjacent to an abandoned town which was named Sweat for unknown reasons.  The mine was a previously spent operation that Fierro bought on the promise of an untapped seam of gold.  From what our field investigators have been able to piece together, the two used the town’s church as their base of operations.  A bit more than month after setting up, they called it quits,” Kate said.

The last picture showed a small town church complete with a gray, weathered spire, most of the buildings around it in ruins.

“It’s here that the roots of the Church of the True were born. It seems the two wasted no time in filing paperwork for the Select of the Lord as a not-for-profit LLC.  It’s also at this time that Daniel had his name changed legally to Castille and he wrote a book titled Forty Days in the Wilderness,” Kate said, stopping on a picture of a younger, poorer Castille standing with a much leaner Fierro.  Castille held a bible under his left arm.

“You’ll note the bible.  From this point on, virtually every shot of Castille has that bible in it,” she said. “He claims in his book that he found the bible in the church and it brought both Fierro and himself to the Lord.”

“How do you know it’s the same one?” Tanya asked.

“The way he habitually holds the bible leaves the lettering on the cover almost always visible in pictures.  Our analysts have been able to blow up the photos and match the wear patterns in every photo,” she said, clicking through slides till she had one that lined three photos up, side by side, all blow-ups of the bible. “Note how the word Holy is missing the H.”

“Photo analysts?  What kind of legal firm has photo analysts?” I asked Darion, who sat next to me.

“The kind that is always ready to provide billable service to the Demidova Corp,” he said.  “Now don’t interrupt her. She’s just getting to the good stuff.”

“I want to hear more about the ghost town,” Tanya said.

“See, that’s the good stuff I was mentioning,” Darion said.

Kate waited till her audience had settled down, smiling.

“Sweat, Alaska has a dark past.  Founded just after the turn of the century, the town was originally part of a native community.  The local Native Alaskans were basically shoved aside when a vein of gold was discovered in the mountain just north of the town.  Traditional stories told that the mountain was cursed, but gold miners ignored that as superstition and mined the mountain extensively.  The town of Sweat appeared almost overnight.  The mine did produce gold, but the town suffered excessive violence and a high mortality rate for the entirety of the seven years it was active.  Then it cleared out, with about the same speed it formed, almost overnight.  The mine was said to have dried up and a series of unexplained deaths occurred in town.  Some rumors hinted at the mountain’s curse; others invoked the Devil’s name. Alaskan law enforcement was negligible at the time and the deaths went uninvestigated.  Since then, the mining claim has changed ownership many times over the years till Fierro bought it.  He still holds title to it.”

“What of the natives?” I asked.

“The locals were all Athabascan, just a small community.  Maybe five or six families, but they had lived in that region for generations.  When they were pushed off the land by the gold miners, they moved further east to the edge of their tribal territory.  Most died off over the last hundred years.  We did find a survivor who married into another village.  Her great-grandparents were displaced by the Sweat settlors. She herself never lived there, but she had been told tales of the cursed mountain by her grandmother.  It was well-known to her people that the mountain was home to an evil spirit.  Hunters who ventured too near were either never seen again or, worse, came back after murdering the rest of their hunting parties.  That’s all we were able to find out,” she said reluctantly.

“Sounds demonic,” I said, mostly to Tanya, but Kate picked up on it.

“It does seem to fit with traditional dogma regarding demonic influence,” she said.

“You’re preaching to the choir, Kate,” Darion said with a smirk.  She flushed, just ever so slightly, really only noticeable if you had thermal vision.

“Good presentation,” Tanya said.  “What do you have for us Josh?” she asked one of her finance staff.

Slender and slightly bookish, with dark glasses and a pinstripe suit complete with suspenders, Josh was one of her whiz kids, a young MBA straight out of Wharton who had a dazzling intellect for numbers and accounting.

He exchanged places and looks with Kate, nodding to another staffer who manned the computer for him.  At his nod, the monitor changed to show a table of numbers.

“The Select of the Lord filed for tax exempt status in Alaska, but quickly moved operations south to Seattle, Washington.  For the first three years, the church struggled financially, almost slipping into insolvency until the fortuitous death of a supporter left them with a serious bequest.  The infusion of cash was enough to build a small church and keep them afloat for six more months.  With that brick and mortar presence, Reverend Castille was able to attract enough members to keep the church going and purchase himself an entry-level Mercedes.  Oddly enough, just as that money started to run down, another church member expired, leaving an even larger bequest.  The Church expanded its headquarters and purchased a home for the good reverend.

“As you can see on this table, from that point on, the church was able to maintain a stable if not exorbitant income stream.  That all changed with the Battle of Washington.  Reverend Castille almost instantly changed the nature of his sermons, shifting to an anti-Darkkin rhetoric that drew in much larger numbers of followers, at the same time renaming his organization.  This is not surprising.  Multiple surveys conducted by numerous news and think tank organizations in the weeks after Washington indicated a wide-ranging upheaval in the public’s religious views.  Virtually every church on the planet has seen significant increases in membership and collection amounts.  You two single-handedly brought the public back to God,” Josh said with a quick grin.

“However, responses ranged from a renewal of traditional faith to evangelic, fire and brimstone types to even a few that preach about, ah, angels among us,” he said with a mock eye roll that made both Tanya and I laugh.  From the corner of my eye, I could see Kate watching him with a new appreciation.

“A certain percentage have come out with an anti-supernatural theme and of those, the most outspoken by far is the Church of the True.  As a result, they have tapped into that segment of the population whose fears and religious fervor needed an equally fanatical outlet.  The result is an explosive increase in the Church’s membership and finances. Castille almost immediately opened a satellite church in California and has announced plans for ones in Washington and here in New York.”

“What about John Cuttle?  When did he show up?” I asked.

“He first hit the payroll just prior to the events in Washington and the name change,” Josh said.

Kate stood up and cleared her throat.  “John Augustus Cuttle is thirty-three years old and a veteran of four tours of duty in Afghanistan and Iraq, courtesy of the US Army.  His background is special operations and his military history is a bit murky, with numerous disciplinary measures in his record.  He was discharged honorably, but it seems he might have accepted the discharge as part of a deal to get him out.  His superior officers almost uniformly noted he was an effective soldier with a serious authority issue.  Disorderly conduct and implications of theft and intimidation are littered throughout his record.  He went to work for the good reverend almost as soon as he returned home to his hometown of Seattle,” she said, giving Josh a so there look before sitting back down.

“Could I get a copy of your notes, Kate?  I want to brief my investigator,” I said.

She looked slightly offended, at least until Darion spoke up.  “His guy is an ex-intelligence operative who will infiltrate the Church and dig deeper than our people can get, Kate.”

She nodded, looking slightly mollified.

“Bank records indicate that Cuttle has been paid two six-figure sums already this year.  Cross-referencing matches the dates closely to the dates of the accidents for two of the children. The church later made an odd grouping of payments to several other LLCs, who in turn all paid the same sums to a bank in Singapore.  That bank initiated a wire to a bank in Belgium.  These payments occurred just after the other two children died of medical complications,” Josh said.

“That the result of your secret weapon digging around?” Darion asked us.

“We have a floor full of high-level hackers who did this in their spare time.  No need for special talents,” Tanya said.  Both Josh and Kate looked on with interest at the conversation.

“None of this is evidence of murder,” Darion said.

“This is merely the beginning.  Now the real digging begins.  Chris’s investigator will infiltrate and we will get down to the real hacking on Cuttle’s communications and personal electronics,” Tanya said.  “Our security team has skills that rival the NSA’s, only we pay better.”

I winced a little at the mention of NSA, but I don’t think anyone caught it.

“Okay, that sounds ominously like something I don’t want to know anything about,” Darion said.  “Kate and I will leave you to your plotting,” he said, getting up, Kate following his lead.

“Thank you Darion, Miss Doughton,” Tanya said.

“What can we say?  We live to bill… er… serve,” Darion said with a sly smile.  They showed themselves out, leaving us in the room with Josh and two other finance types—as well as Arkady and Deckert, who had been silent in the shadows behind us throughout the whole thing.

“I have some contacts in Belgium who can see about those bank wires,” Deckert said.  “We may need some tech support.”

“Chester will be more than happy to help you.  Tell him that this takes priority, even over the special project,” Tanya said.

“What about Cuttle?” Arkady asked.

“We need to steal his phone, tablet, laptop, or any other electronics he has.  Get them to Declan and he can implant his witchcraft computer virus.  Then we’ll see what gets reported back,” I said.

“Castille too?” Deckert asked.

“No!” I said before Tanya could agree.  “We keep the kid completely away from him and his bible.  That’s more important than anything.”

Tanya studied me for a second.  “Is that based on your evening church service?”

“Exactly.  It could be very bad if Castille gets a chance to meet Declan.  Barbiel was clear on that, if not on how or why.  I think that much of the reverend’s charm and oratory ability comes from that twisted bible,” I said.

“Got it.  No Sunday school for the warlock kid,” Deckert said.

“Exactly.  We need to keep him out of trouble.  How hard can that be?” I asked, knowing it might be damned well impossible.

Chapter 28 – Declan

I stepped off the elevator into a long hallway whose floor was concrete patterned to look like slabs of rock.  Doors to individual apartments broke up the walls in a long series that ended with a single massive iron-bound door—and a vampire guard wearing a sword.  Who was staring at me.  My stomach rumbled. How very… Game of Thrones-ish.

As I trudged toward that big, gothic-looking door, I noticed the artwork that took up space on the expanses of sheetrock that didn’t have doors.  Not that I recognized any of it, but it gave me somewhere to look besides the vampire who was glaring my way—the vampire with only one arm.  Well, one and a half.  He seemed to be missing his left forearm and hand, but that didn’t appear to bother him a great deal.  My stomach rumbled again.  It wasn’t hunger, but more crampy.  Maybe it was the Indian food the night before with Stacia.  But I woke up normal and was hungry for lunch in the corporate dining room.  The lunch tacos had tasted fine.  Still, something was a bit off.

When I got up close, the guard tensed, just slightly. In fact, I might have missed it completely if I hadn’t been through all that painful training with Tanya, Lydia, Arkady, Nika, and Stacia.  Not to mention Chris.  Who I was here to see.

“Ah, hi.  I’m here to see Chris and maybe Tanya, not sure,” I said.  His nametag said Dave Lo and now that I was closer, I could see his features were Asian.

“These are the Queen’s quarters.  Interns don’t belong here,” he said.

“Unless they call you here.  Chris and Tanya.  She’s your queen, right?” I asked.  His expression was solid as stone.

“We are the Outer Guard.  We protect the Queen,” he said, which made me look around for the others in we.

“Look, that’s cool.  But Chris called me down on my phone,” I said, reaching for said cellular.  There was a blur and a flash of steel and I found a long, sharp, shiny sword pointed at my throat.  I could see enough detail to note the lines of silver woven into the folded steel blade.

My shields were up, feet locked to the floor, drawing power from Earth, and I backed up a step.  Behind me, the elevator doors opened again, but I dared not look.

Claws click-clacked on the concrete and Dave’s glance flickered to whatever was coming down the hall, then back to me, unconcerned.

I backed up two more steps and turned.  Awasos in wolf form was almost at my back and as he got to me, he flowed around me and sat down, his furry haunches basically on my feet.  Facing Dave the guard, he yawned in the face of the sword, showing a ridiculously massive jaw with enough teeth to make a shark jealous.

Dave frowned at the display, looking slight uncertain for the first time.  A door behind me opened and when I glanced back, I saw a college-aged girl who was anything but.

“Hey Declan, watcha doing?” Katrina asked as she locked her door.

“Supposed to be seeing Chris and Tanya, but Dave here won’t even announce me.”

“Ah, you’ve met IQ-So-Low of the Outer Clods,” she said coming up beside me.

“You used to be one of us, Katrina,” Dave said, frowning and still holding his sword rock steady.  “What’s the matter with the were-bear-wolf?” he asked.

“Nothing.  He merely dislikes morons.  I share that trait. Tell me, Brains-So-Slow, why are you holding Chris’s intern at swordpoint?  Perhaps the correct response in this instance is to announce him?” Katrina asked.

“Interns aren’t allowed here,” he said, frowning.

“Well, see, they are if Chris or Tanya calls them here.  When that happens, you’re not supposed to threaten them with a sword. You knock on the door and tell the power couple that the intern is here.  That way, the were-bear-wolf, whose name is Awasos, by the way, won’t rip your only remaining arm off at the shoulder for threatening his friend.  You know? The witch kid that gave Chris back all his memories?  The same kid that if you touched him with that sword would probably send enough volts through it to make you into a permanent night light.  Why don’t you just announce him, Slave, er, Dave?” she said.

The sword wavered and then drooped.  Dave backed up and knocked on the big, castle-looking door.

“Right, lesson over.  Next time, Declan, just blast him and be done with it.  Nobody will even miss him,” Katrina said.  I gave her a nod, more in thanks than agreement.  She just snorted softly, turning and walking toward the elevator.

The big door opened and Chris peered out.  “Oh, hey, Declan.  Come on in.  I see you’ve met Dave.”

Dave’s jaw was clenched and I couldn’t read his expression, but my money was on anger at Katrina’s comments.  Anger, which likely was splashing onto me by association.  Great. That’s me, making friends all over the place.

‘Sos clicked-clacked into the apartment ahead of me and I followed, literally at his tail, eager to have the door between me and the sullen guard.

The inside was a surprise.  I expected posh.  Upper East side meets Taj Mahal or something.  Instead, it was more L.L. Bean meets retro industrial.  Actually, it was just eclectic.

A rustic hand-crafted twig rocking chair in the corner, Hudson Bay blanket draped over the back of the leather sofa, coffee table made from an iron-wheeled industrial dolly, concrete kitchen countertops, granite tile kitchen floor, copper range hood, black appliances, gas fireplace, reclaimed barn beam mantle, Japanese long and short sword set racked on a long, thin table behind the sofa, flatscreen television hung above the mantle, Turkish rugs on the floor, cast iron stools at the kitchen island, six-person dining table with steel legs and reclaimed barn wood top; somehow it all worked.  It was one big great room, combining kitchen, dining, and family room.  Doorways led off to what I supposed were the bedroom and bathroom.

Tanya sat on the sofa, legs curled under her, notebook computer open and resting on her lap, like she had just gotten up for the day.  It was late afternoon, so maybe she had at that.  She smiled and patted the open space next to her.

I took the spot, slightly uncomfortable, not just because my stomach was off.  Chris sat in an armchair that seemed to be made from heavy crate wood, kind of square and solid.

“We thought is was time to touch base a bit.  See how things are going and all that.  The company is young and moving fast, but it seems to me that your first week or so has brought things at light speed, no?” Tanya asked.

“You could say that,” I admitted.  “Right from the first moment I set foot in the building.”

“At the risk of being stating the obvious, your skills are already world-class and you’ve contributed more in your first days here than perhaps anyone other than Tanya,” Chris said, smiling.  “We just want to see how you’re feeling about everything?”

“Well, it’s been exciting.  And interesting.  I haven’t really had time to process everything, but I think I’ve already learned a lot that I never counted on,” I said.

“Like what?” Tanya asked.

“The use of magic in programming, for one.  I mean, I’ve always used it as a diagnostic tool and to pry out passwords and stuff, but never to directly input magically enhanced programs.  Also, I’m learning about working with Darkkin, and more about weres,” I said.

“Any concerns?” Chris asked.

“Well, we already talked about the programming thing,” I said.  He nodded.

“Tanya and I have talked about that and we should have cleared that up with you.  It’s essentially your abilities and knowledge.  We couldn’t reproduce your software if we wanted to,” Chris said.

“Maybe not yet, but there are Circles that could do it, I think,” I said.

“Like who?” Tanya asked.

“My mother and aunt’s circle, the Irwins, could do it.  They’re in town, by the way.”

“Oh?” Tanya asked, sitting up and exchanging a glance with Chris.

“So is Caeco and her paranormal FBI team.  I lent them a hand, well really, I lent her a hand but they had been brought in on a case that seemed to have a supernatural barrier.  Turned out to be a really pissed-off ghost related to the case.  Anyway, after I left them, I got waylaid by a full circle of my relatives from Ireland,” I said.

“What happened?” Chris asked.

“They wanted to talk and so they found a way to isolate me from most of my powers.  They’re trying to convince me to spend time with them.  After a bit, they let me slip away without putting up a fight, but I think they’ll only get more insistent. Anyway, I think they could do the programming thing.  They’ve certainly got the skill and power.”

“You never told us?” Tanya said, frowning.  Even that looked pretty on her.

“Well, I handled it and I won’t get tricked again.  But maybe I should try to contact them and see if any of their circle has programming experience.  Ireland’s big in the software industry, you know,” I said.

“You would talk to your estranged circle to see if you could give them the secret of magically enhanced programs so that they might work for us?” Chris asked.

“Well, when you say it like that, I just sound like a moron,” I said, realizing it was true.

“Actually, it sounds incredibly generous, but maybe too much,” Tanya said, smiling.  “Let’s worry about keeping you safe from the circle, not giving them the financial windfall of a lifetime.  This magic software is pretty powerful stuff.”

“Which brings me to my biggest concern,” I said.  They looked attentive, but I didn’t know quite how to lay it out without maybe insulting them.

“Just say it, Declan,” Chris said, reading my hesitation.

“I’m concerned about the quantum computing project,” I said.  Tanya pulled back a tiny bit, her frown reappearing.  “We already have major trouble with the Anvil program.  If it got into a fully functional quantum computer, it would be game over.  And I don’t trust the guy you put in charge of the project—Susskins.”

“Well, there, you got it out,” Chris said with a smile.  Tanya wasn’t smiling, though. She was still frowning.

“How are we going to combat Anvil or programs like it unless we step up our game?  And Declan, we are far from the only group to be on this quest,” she said.

“I know that.  Frankly, I don’t know enough about it to judge your progress, but I really, really don’t trust Dr. Susskins,” I told her.  Chris was watching her and she glanced his way before answering me.

“Susskins is arguably the top guy in the field.  Having him on our team puts us further ahead of anyone else.  Nika spends much of her time checking up on his loyalty,” she said, obviously a bit put out by my observations.

“Hey babe, we asked him and he answered.  Frankly, after fighting with Anvil, he’d be an idiot not to have doubts about a more powerful computing platform in the hands of rogue artificial intelligence,” Chris said.

“So if I have no doubts, then I’m an idiot?” she asked him, her tone getting a little too real for my comfort.

“Really?  You can’t read me better than that?” he asked her, his own tone mild.  Their staring continued for a few moments that seemed like hours.  Finally, she exhaled and leaned back, tension running out of her.

“I am perhaps too sensitive on this subject,” she admitted, looking at her hands.  I noticed that her short, sharp nails were painted a burgundy red.  Like the color of old blood.

She glanced up and caught my eyes.  “My apologies, Declan.  As Chris said, we asked and you spoke your feelings.  I have a lot invested in this project.  A lot of time and energy.”

“Not to mention money,” Chris said, smiling slightly.

“Yeah, there is that too,” she said with a shrug. “I think quantum computing is inevitable, just as I think true sentient AI is inevitable.  The genie is out of the bottle, so to speak.  My goal is to guide it so that the outcome is beneficial instead of catastrophic,” she said.

“Yes, you are probably right on both counts,” I said.  “But if Anvil is any example, then we are going too fast without learning how to create benevolent AI.  Susskins strikes me as brilliant and amoral.  Take it from a guy who carries a semi-sentient entity inside him, one that was written by a woman who was just as brilliant and decidedly more than amoral.”

Semi-sentient? I’ve been aware longer than your country has existed.  Moron.

Hush.  No comments from the peanut gallery, please.

My face must have reflected my internal conversation.  “Everything okay?” Chris asked.

“Sorrow was voicing his opinion of my classification of him.  It wasn’t complimentary,” I said.

“I forget that you carry that within you.  My apologies.  You, of all people, have a right to mistrust fabricated intelligence,” Tanya said.

Fabricated?  I’m not a quilt.  I was Crafted with consummate skill and exquisite precision. Peasant!

They both raised eyebrows at my expression.  “Sorrow is chatty today.  Much to say on the topic,” I said.  “Anyway, I just have some concerns.”

“Your views are perhaps more enlightened than anyone else’s,” Tanya said.  “Am I wrong, or have you reached some accord with Sorrow?  You seem to handle it better all the time,” she noted.

“Accord might be too strong a term.  More of a general understanding,” I said, keeping all of Sorrow’s insults and unflattering opinions to myself.

My phone chose that moment to buzz loudly.  Of course, they both heard it.  Probably could hear spiders farting in the far corners of the room.  Speaking of which, my stomach rumbled again.

“Go ahead and check your phone, Declan.  Might be important,” Chris said.

I did just that.  “It’s an update from Caeco.  Seems that the ghost’s body was a patient of the doctor that they suspected in the case.  They were able to shake his story up and his lawyer is looking for a deal.  So they were a big help to the New York office. She’s thanking me for making her look good,” I said as I read the text.  Then I felt a frown form.  Before they could ask, I told them about her little add-on at the end.  “She also mentions that one of our classmates got hired by that Department of Anomalous Activity.  Do you remember T.J.?” I asked.

“The kid with the spider robot at the last game?” Chris asked.

“That’s him.  He’s got a gift with technology.  His work is magic resistant,” I said.

“But your avatar beat him by touching him,” Tanya noted.

“Yeah, it took direct contact.  Our other spells just bounced off.  Had to use indirect magic or, in my case, touch the shell of the bot.  He was bragging to our friend Ashley about getting this big job working on secret government stuff. He’s got a thing for her. Said he’s not coming back in the fall.  Ashley told Jetta, and Jetta told Caeco.”

“This worries you?” Tanya asked.

“Yeah.  Wouldn’t they be the kind of department that would make stuff like Thing One and Thing Two?”

“That’s a troubling point, Declan,” Tanya said.  “How would you combat a resistant centipede?”

“I gotta give it some thought,” I said.

“Fair enough.  Please do.  And please think more on the quantum project if you would?” she asked.

I said my goodbyes and slipped out the door, ignoring a silent Dave.  My brain was churning a mile a second as I trudged down the long hall to the elevator.  A potential answer came to me as I stopped by the call button.  What would I do? What could I do? To start with, I could call for help.  I didn’t know if it would arrive before the next attack; hell, I wasn’t sure it could even hear my call from this far, let alone travel the distance.  But it was worth a shot.  No time or place like the present.  I was on the bottom level of the building, feet planted on concrete that likely sat on bedrock.

Closing my eyes, I let my head fall forward, chin to chest, while I framed my mental message and pulled Earth energy to me.  Then I pushed it out in a ball of power, sending it north through the earth below me.  It left in a rush, a pulse of raw power that ran through the ground like a tremor.  Now I’d just have to wait and see.  And work on other defenses against a possibly enhanced pede.  Who knows, maybe my fears were way off base.  I mean, what the hell did I know anyway?  My innards rolled over again just as the elevator opened, the internal urgency ramping up.  I headed inside and punched my floor’s button.  Hopefully I’d make it to my apartment in time.

Chapter 29 - Chris

After our unsettling conversation with Declan, I was able to convince Tanya to have her breakfast.  Her feeding had been erratic of late, but this time, she fed with a vengeance.  I thought the day had arrived when she would finally suck me dry.

She suddenly pulled back, burped lightly, and covered her mouth with one hand.  “Full,” she said.  Me, I was just trying to breathe.

“Am I pushing too hard for this project?” she asked.

“He has a valid point. Quantum computing will change everything.  It would blow the doors off every supercomputer in the world. As a host for a rogue AI, it could be apocalyptic.  As we keep forgetting, he carries the original artificial intelligence inside him, so he has unique insight.”

“You said that Barbiel mentioned something about him changing the book?” she asked.

“He inferred that Declan was mellowing it out or something.  That the book corrupted everyone it touched until now,” I said.

“Have we done everything we can to protect it?” she questioned, referring to the special project.

“As far as I know.  Plus, we don’t actually have a functioning computer,” I pointed out.

“Susskins wants Declan on the project.  He told both Chet and me that he has some ideas of ways that magic might stabilize the qubits.  He actually got excited,” she said.

I tried to picture the sarcastic egomaniac getting excited.  My imagination wasn’t up to the task.

“As far as I know, we’ve done everything conceivable to protect the computing center.  Now, I have to run to make my drop-off with Deckert’s spook,” I said.

“How will he get Cuttle’s phone or tablet to you and Declan?” she asked.

“Your lawyers and analysts found out what kind of phone he carries. The model comes standard with a data sharing application that transfers stuff like photos to similar phones through wi-fi or Bluetooth or something. Declan preloaded the virus into an identical model so Mark will just need to get near Cuttle’s phone for, like, a few seconds,” I said.

“Wouldn’t Cuttle have to unlock his phone for that to work?”

“He would unless the magically enhanced version can hijack the other phone at will,” I said.

“Glad he’s on our side,” she said.

“Right?  How many people could handle his power without becoming a monster?  It boggles the mind.”

“How many could handle our power and remain as we have?” she asked with a smile.

“Point to the hot vampire,” I said, leaning down for a lingering kiss goodbye.

“Go. Before I drag you into my lair, never to be seen again,” she said, eyes lidded.

“Right.  Leaving.  Willpower fading.  Must go now,” I said robotically as I backed away.  She pouted, which froze me in my tracks, then grinned and waved me away.

The drop-off was set for a coffee-and-bagel place a couple of blocks from the Tower.  The compact spy was already at an outdoor table, sipping coffee and reading a paper.  I grabbed the table next to his, setting my own paper on the edge.  A waitress wandered over to get my order and froze when she recognized me, eyes wide and mouth open.

“Oh my God.  You’re him.  Right?  You’re actually you?” she babbled, which caused people to turn and look.

“Ah yeah, I guess I am.  Can I get a large mocha latte with extra whipped cream on top?” I asked. Other people were staring and pointing.  The waitress finally processed my request and rushed back inside the shop.  I took my phone out and went to set it on the table, accidentally knocking off the folded paper and the doctored phone it contained.  It fell by Mark’s feet and he folded his own paper before reaching down to pick up mine.

“Here ya go, Mr. Hammer,” he said, smirking as he adroitly switched papers and gave me back his. “Enjoy your morning.”  He got up and walked away, carrying my paper and his coffee.

Moments later, the waitress was back, followed by her manager plus about a dozen more people.  The manager held a large latte in his hand, his eyes huge as he gave it to me.  “It’s an honor sir,” he said.

Honestly, I hate this part.  How do celebrities stand it?  But he was very sincere, as were the people around him.  Cell phones came up to snap pictures or videos.  I pulled out a twenty and went to hand it to him, but he waved it away.  I nodded my thanks but tucked the twenty under the sugar dispenser on my table and stood up to leave.  A black Ford SUV pulled up to the curb and the rear window powered down.  Deckert gave me a brisk nod, then went back to scanning his surroundings.

“Damn phone!  It’s all froze up!” someone said.  “Mine too,” another voice chimed in.  At least four others agreed.  A flash of Declan telling me about Anvil in the lobby with the interns’ phones came to me.  It was all I needed to get me up and moving.  Traffic was starting to slow as people driving noticed the commotion at the shop.  I slid into the back of the Ford and the driver, Stevens, pulled smoothly into traffic like a veteran taxi driver.

“Watch everything,” I said, unable to stop my voice from deepening as Grim took over.  “That damn program is here.”

The stoplight ahead of us had just turned green. Now it flashed through yellow to red.  Cars screeched to a stop, drivers yelling at each other over the sudden confusion. Stevens slammed us to a halt.

“Shit, it’s trapping us here,” Deckert said, head pivoting.  Grim expanded my senses, reaching out into the world around us.  Traffic confusion, staring people, busy people, honking cars, the stench of hot engines and scorched antifreeze, garbage odors from the garbage truck next to us, a whiff of gas, a child yelling at another child, a couple arguing.  Wait.  Gas?

“Everyone out of the car,” Grim ordered.  They obeyed, the smell getting stronger as we cleared the vehicle.  The street had four lanes.  Our car was closest to the sidewalk, the garbage truck near the centerline, big front tire rolled right up on a manhole cover.

People were still pointing and aiming phones at us, well, me mostly.  Deckert and I herded Stevens and the third bodyguard toward the sidewalk.  The driver of the garbage truck gaped at me.  The ground shook once.  Then exploded, manhole cover lifting straight up under the truck, as did the asphalt.  The street split open right at the far white line on the other side of the street, almost directly under the heavy waste hauler.  Split open and lifted the truck.

The gas explosion was concentrated under the big vehicle, and it threw it into the air like a toy, flipping it over so that it would come down on our Ford.  The driver was still staring at me, likely the last thing he’d ever see, as the door of his compartment would hit the ground first.  The guys were clear but moving like molasses.  The explosion had been centered under the truck, doing exactly what it had been designed to do.

Grim jumped—at the flying truck.  One hand grabbed the roof of the driver’s side, the other gripped the open window frame.  Feet touched down on the left fender, arms twitched, and the door ripped open.  Right index finger formed a hook, mono-edge lining the inside.  Seatbelts parting like tissue, driver gripped by belt.  Grim flipped us away, a two-hundred-thirty-pound cargo hanging from a belt.  We hit the roof of the Ford SUV, denting it, the multi-ton hauler inverting itself overhead.  Jumped again, cleared the sidewalk and landed, Clinging to the side of the café, driver dangling from his belt.

The garbage truck came down directly on top of our Ford, crushing it flat and spraying foul-smelling rubbish in every direction.

Smoke and dust rolled out from the blast zone as red and orange flames flared up from the broken street.  The cloud rolled across the café, its occupants and workers, and up the side of the building, leaving us all covered in gray powder.  Grim walked us down the wall, setting the garbage driver down on his feet, where he promptly collapsed.

Deckert was there in an instant, eyes scanning me for damage.  I pointed at the driver and without missing a beat, he directed his extra security guy to check the shaken man over.

The café crowd stood stunned, most still holding camera phones out.  Now they came back to life, some moving toward us while a few of the more civic-minded checked on the drivers of the cars in front and in back of ours.  A Chevy Terrain that had been directly behind us had a flattened engine compartment, but the way the truck had fallen on it had shoved the SUV backward like a toy, which in turned kept the driver from getting pasted.

“God’s Hammer,” someone loudly whispered.

“He did it!  He got that man out!” another voice yelled.

The damned phones were coming back up.  Deckert spun around to face the crowd.

“This was an attack aimed at Mr. Gordon.  He needs to leave the area or there could be another attempt,” he told the crowd in a voice that would make a drill instructor proud.

“Kill the Hammer?  No way!  Not in this city,” a man said, face flickering from shock to anger in a New York second.

“If you will open a path, Mr. Gordon will get clear as fast as he can.  That will lead any danger away from you all and frankly, it’ll be best for him as well,” Deckert said, making a Moses parting the sea motion with both hands.  Damned if they didn’t listen to him.  His head swiveled my way.  “Get the fuck outta here—sir!” he growled. “Full speed.”

I wanted to stay, but Grim agreed with Deckert and I was gone, moving fast enough to pull a big funnel of smoke after me.  Across the street and up the side of a building till I could follow the rooftops and head for the Tower, which rose like a pinnacle above my elevated footpath.  Behind me, I could hear sirens winding up, a sound I’ve heard far too many times in my short life, while I ran away.

Chapter 30 - Declan

I was dying.  No question about it.  A slow, painful death by toilet.  Barely making it to my apartment after meeting with Chris and Tanya, I hadn’t left the bathroom since.  Apparently, my internals desired to go external, as it seemed everything inside me was headed out… violently.

My phone buzzed on the sink counter next to me.  It was Stacia, texting me to let me know Chris had been attacked again.  She mentioned an explosion, but that he was okay.  I typed back a quick Okay and went back to my misery.

Time went by.  My world was just two rooms.  My bedroom and the bathroom.  I alternated from lying on my bed to racing for the toilet.  Vaguely, I heard my phone buzzing with other texts, but I honestly was too self-miserable to look at it.  Sorrow was silent, but I could sense him/it lurking on the edge of my consciousness, concerned yet unable to offer any help beyond the half-dozen recipes for digestive potions and teas.  Most used common herbs, stuff I had in my Aunt-Ashling-created health kit, but I couldn’t find the energy to brew up any peppermint, yellowroot, mullein, and white willow bark tinctures.  Instead, I lay stomach down, just breathing as I awaited the next attack.  Sometimes, I sipped some water from the bottle I managed to drag out of the mini-fridge.

The phone buzzed some more and then a knock came at my door.

“Declan?  It’s Stacia.  You alive in there?”

“Yes, just barely.  What’s up?” I croaked out, alarmed by her presence.

“Can I come in?”

“No! Ah, I mean, I’m sick with something.  A bug or whatever.  I don’t want you to get it.”

“Declan, I’m a werewolf.  We don’t get sick, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.  Well, it’s not so nice in here,” I said.

“That’s the nature of being sick.  Let me in, please?” she asked.

“No, Stacia.  Just let me be.  I’ll be alright,” I said, then another cramp hit me and I was off the bed and stumbling for the bathroom.

“So be it.  I’m calling Dr. Singh,” she said, but I was too involved to answer.  Not that she couldn’t hear my misery despite the two doors and multiple walls between us.

A bit later, another knock came.  “Declan, it’s Dr. Singh.  Would you let me in?”

I thought about denying him but realized the next step would bring Chris or Tanya to just rip the door off the wall.  Then a whole flood of perfect people, mostly ultra-attractive women, would be front and center to my imperfect human condition and all its attendant odors and unpleasantness.

I lurched through the apartment and opened the door, checking to make sure Stacia wasn’t with him.  It was just the doctor.

He stepped through briskly, shutting the door behind him.  “Just me,” he said.  “Several of your associates wanted to come check on you, but I explained that most young men would prefer not to have unrelated females see them at such a disadvantage.”

“Thanks Doctor.  It doesn’t help that they’re all impervious to illness,” I said.

“Oh that’s not true at all.  Maybe not bacteria and viruses, but there are several maladies that can befall Darkkin and were alike,” he said, immediately grasping my head between cool hands and looking into my eyes, ears, nose, and throat.

He leaned close and sniffed me twice, then leaned back, frowning and nodding to himself.

“For instance, while neither Stacia or Lydia would be impacted in the slightest by the Clostridium perfringens that’s been wreaking havoc on your system, silver poisoning is a very real threat.  Also, Stacia is highly allergic to wolfsbane and slightly less so to mountain ash,” he said, walking over to the kitchen area and pulling a mug from the stack near my Keurig machine.

“Mountain ash?  Rowan?  Stacia is allergic to Rowan?” I asked, floored that the blonde werewolf was allergic to my favorite tree. Hell, the wooden herb box in my bedroom was Rowan.

“Yes, ironic, isn’t it?  You, as a practitioner of the Craft, use as a staple of your work a substance that could seriously harm your young lady friend,” he said, filling the mug with water and placing it into the microwave.

“So you already know what’s wrong with me?  Closterdum perfumage or something?” I asked.

“Clostridium perfringens.  Sometimes known as the buffet germ.  Common cause of food poisoning and while it’s very nasty, it usually runs its course in twenty-four hours or so. I’d know its scent anywhere.  But we must keep you hydrated, so I’m making you a tea.  The warm fluid will help soothe your system. There are some important electrolytes in it as well as a few herbs to slow the diarrhea.”

“You figured all that out from just sniffing me?” I asked.

“Amazing what vampiric senses can lend to the medical field.  Now, tell me what and where have you eaten today?” he asked.

“Well, Stacia and I had dinner at an Indian place that’s run by friends of hers last night.  Today, I just had the tacos at lunch upstairs,” I said.

He frowned.  “I doubt Gita’s would serve any bad food, but neither can I believe Remy would allow the slightest hint of bacteria to enter his domain. He can sniff it out just as I can.  This is disturbing,” he said, taking the mug of water out when the microwave dinged.  He poured a packet of herbs into the water, then added a commercial-looking packet of powder and mixed it all up.

“What’s in it?” I asked as I sipped the finished product.

“Chamomile, willow, comfrey, and a packet of lemon Gatoraid.”

“Nice.  Mixing old school with new,” I said.

“The beauty of an extended life is being able to see all the utility in things from the past and new things here in the now,” he said, waving me toward the couch.

“Did anyone else get sick?” I asked.

He frowned.  “No, which is odd.  But then, as I said, it would be highly unlikely that Remy would allow any food to be contaminated.  He’s very fierce about that.  Militant, you could say.”

“Then it must have been Gita’s” I said.

“Both Gita and her husband can smell Clostridium perfringens or any other food-poisoning-related pathogens.  I find it hard to believe it would get past them.”

“Well, maybe they didn’t pay attention.  Most of their clients are werewolves,” I said.

“But not all of them, young warlock.  And Gita is also very fierce about preserving her clients’ health.  Maybe you ate something in between and forgot?” he suggested.

“No Doc, I was really full from dinner, came home, and went to bed.  Then when I got up today, it was lunchtime, so I went to the dining room and they had a Mexican buffet going so I helped myself to, ah, let’s see… four tacos.  Other interns were there, too.  You could check on that Simon dude and his group.  They were all eating tacos, too.”

He shook his head. “No, they’re all fine.  Stacia said you were facing a digestive issue and as I left the lobby, I could see that very same fellow laughing with his friends.”

“Oh.  Well, it’s a mystery, then,” I said.

He packed up his stuff and turned to me.  “Drink the rest of your tea and then try to rest. Keep drinking water.  Staying hydrated is crucial. This will pass naturally and I feel confidant in saying that I think you’ve got the worst behind you, so to speak,” he smiled.  “No pun intended.  Now, I must be going.  A certain young werewolf lady of our mutual acquaintance will be waiting impatiently for your prognosis.  I can share that with her, can I not?” he asked, looking worried like I might say no.

“Yeah, sure. But she’s got better things to do than worry about me,” I said.

He turned and fixed me with a stare.  “I believe she has done little else since you became ill.  It may seem odd to you, given her beauty and personality, but she has very few friends.  I suspect that her very appearance and people’s reactions to it have colored her attitudes toward relationships.  She is very discriminating in where she bestows her loyalty.  You, young man, have been granted a large measure of it.  In fact, I suspect you should be prepared for a visit after I leave.  While she respects my professional skills, she will likely want to make personally certain that you are on the mend.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Exactly,” he said with a smile. “Now, I’m off.”

“Thanks Dr. Singh, very much,” I said.

“My pleasure, Declan, my pleasure,” he said, then pointed at the mug in my hand and made sipping motions.  With that, he turned and left the suite.  I sipped my tea and then realized what his words meant.  Jumping up… well, let’s be honest… staggering up is more like it.  Anyway, I tottered around, straightening up and spraying air freshener around the place.  I had only just collapsed back on the couch when a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” I said.

Stacia opened the door instantly, immediately entering and fixing me with a rather serious stare.  She looked me up and down, put a warm hand on my forehead, and finally nodded.

“So, you’re gonna live?” she asked, sitting down next to me.

“That’s the word from the expert.  Food poisoning.  From somewhere.  Starting to feel a little better.  Doc Singh’s tea is pretty good, too.”

She frowned, looking down at her hand where it traced a pattern on her knee.  “Declan, you didn’t call me when you got sick, or even mention it by text,” she said, lifting her green eyes to meet mine.

I shrugged.  “I felt like crap,” I said, wincing at the unintended pun.  “I was too tired and miserable to see anyone.”

“Okay, I can see that.  Nobody likes to be sick in front of others, but Declan, it’s okay to be less than optimum in front of friends, you know?  And we’re friends, right?” she asked.

My head nodded itself vigorously, even as part of me wanted to say but I don’t want to be just friends.

“And you can confide in friends about problems—like, say, visiting relatives that are maybe dangerous to you,” she said.

“Chris told you?” I asked.

“No, Declan.  I have a friend of sorts who is a witch here in the city.  She called me to ask about a certain young male witch in the employ of Demidova Corp.  Seems her circle is hosting a visiting group of VIP witches.  Has her leader worried as hell.  They are apparently bigshots in the world of witches and they are completely focused on finding a young male relative.  She wanted me to bring you somewhere for them to meet with you.  I was more than a bit upset with her for that.  Tore her a new one.  Then she said you’d already had one meeting with them but they wanted to try a softer approach.  Said this visiting circle is scary as F.  Begged me to help,” she said.

“Yeah. The Irwin Clan of Ireland.  My mom and aunt’s old circle.  They trapped me on the High Line, which was pretty ingenious, really.  They called in a rainstorm to soak me, as water is my weak point and since I was up in the air, I had very minimal contact with earth.  We talked briefly.  Sorrow showed me some things that I think surprised them, but then Macha figured out the source of my spells,” I admitted.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?”

“Well, they’re kind of my personal problem.  Family issues, I guess.  But I did finally tell Chris and Tanya today, before I got sick,” I said.

“But not me?” she asked.

“Not even my aunt.  They let me go, so I figured I had some time to think things through and honestly, there’s been so much else going on that it was the least of my worries.  In fact, just before I got so sick, I found out that a kid from my school who makes magically resistant machines got hired by the Directorate of Anomalous Activity.  I’m wondering if Anvil got him hired so its next batch of centipedes will be harder for me to spell.”

She stared at me for a moment.  “That was a slick and disturbing subject change right there.  I’ll let it slide as long as you promise me that you will let me help you with your problems, okay?”

“Deal.  I’m considering meeting with the Macha and her circle.  If I do, maybe you could call your friend to set it up?” I asked.

“Yeah, but let’s think that through first, okay?  Now tell me about this kid and your suspicions.”

So I did.

“What can we do?” she asked when I finished explaining T.J. and his skills.

“If I get close, I think I can power through his mojo.  But I also called in some help,” I said.

“You called someone else for help?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

“No!  I called something else for help,” I said hurridly.  Then I explained.

“Holy shit, really?  It can travel like that?” she asked.

“I think so.  It seems to have changed a great deal, kinda on its own, but I’m told that’s my fault.  Sorrow says so.”

“I can’t wait to see this.  When?”

“Not sure.  Maybe in the next day or so.”

“You, my friend, are a never-ending, blue-eyed bundle of surprises,” she said, her tone admiring.

“Right now, I’m a tired, sick bundle of useless.  If it’s okay, I think I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Good idea.  Need tucking in?” she asked.  It seemed like an innocent enough question. Not like the thoughts that raced through my head.

“No, but thanks, Stacia,” I said.

“Alright.  Goodnight warlock,” she said, standing, leaning forward to present an award-winning view down her shirt as she grabbed my head and planted a kiss on top of it.

Then she was gone and I took forever to fall asleep.

Chapter 31 - Chris

“Looks like it exploded a gas main,” Arkady said, looking up from his tablet.  “Line directly under waste truck.  Precise.  Maybe bug robot poked a hole in it?”

“Ya think?  If it can explode just one portion of a gas line, then why can’t it just blow up our building or any street just outside of it?” Lydia asked.

“Declan’s spells shield the gas lines where they come in and extend out fifty yards or so in all directions.  That was his idea.  Kid knows a lot about fires and explosions.  Comes to him naturally,” Deckert said.

“How is he?” Tanya asked me.

“Doc Singh says he’s got a form of food poisoning.  Says he’s recuperating, but the good doctor is concerned.  Declan only ate in two places—Gita’s last night and our dining room today.  No one else in either place got sick.  Doc’s suspicious about that,” I said. “Stacia reported that he was napping when she left him a couple of hours ago.”

“Deliberate poisoning?” Arkady asked.

“It would be easy for a smart, college-connected person to get a sample of the germ that was used, at least according to the doctor,” I said.

“Revenge?  For the alcohol detox I asked him to make?” Tanya asked, eyebrows and temper rising in unison.

“That’s the suspicion. Most likely candidate is Simon.  He and Declan don’t like each other,” I said.

“Nika?” Tanya asked her blonde friend.

“On it,” Nika said.

“Okay, so that’s grounds for immediate termination, but aren’t we forgetting the important stuff here?  The attack in the street?” Deckert asked.

I shared a glance with Tanya.  “One, Declan is a key player in our fight against Anvil, so his health is important. He doesn’t have our defenses against germs.  Second, how would you react if you found out that one of your fellow workers had poisoned you?”

“Yeah, I see your point.  Potential Hansel and Gretel scenario,” Deckert said.

“Hansel and Gretel, ha.  You guys are way off.  You should be thinking of Little Red Riding Hood,” Lydia said.

“Okay, Hansel and Gretel are you two, dah?  What is Red Riding Hood?” Arkady asked after pointing at Tanya and me.

“Stacia,” Lydia said.  Both Arkady and Deckert looked slightly puzzled.

“He has a serious crush on her,” I explained.

“Oh,” Arkady said, the light dawning in his eyes.

“What happens when she dates someone else?” Deckert’s expression turned to full frown.

“I’m not at all worried about that, Mr. Deckert.  Call it woman’s intuition,” Lydia said.

“I’ll go investigate this Simon right now,” Nika said, looking worried.  She stood up and left the room.

“What else is on the agenda?” Tanya asked.

“This,” Deckert said, using a remote to turn on Tanya’s wall-mounted monitor.  The picture showed a security camera view of the outside of our building.  Lines of protestors walked up and down with signs.  Only one sign was readable from our point of view.  It read Stop the Bloodsuckers.

“The Church of the True went ahead and fired the first salvo.  They’ve posted comments with a half dozen blogs and news sites about the cured children dying and they’re blaming the Darkkin in general and you in particular,” he said, looking at Tanya.

She studied the scene for a moment, face blank of expression.  My link told me she was furious.  “Ideas?”

“Yeah, several,” Lydia piped up.  “First, one of Darion’s investigators found this footage from a convenience store in the home town of Krysta Downes, the little girl cured of brain cancer who died of pneumonia.”  She took the remote from Deckert, fiddled with both it and her tablet and a second later, a new scene popped up.

“Right here, you see Krysta walking with her mother,” Lydia narrated, pointing out the little girl hand in hand with her mother.  “At this point, this woman bumps into her.  Note the handbag actually touching Krysta, and here you can see Krysta rubbing the impact spot on her shoulder.  Now look at this copy of the autopsy results.  See here where the medical examiner noted a bright red welt in the exact same spot on her shoulder?”

“Is update of Russian micro-pellet?” Arkady asked. “Old umbrella injector changed to handbag.”

“That’s what Darion’s people think.  My idea would be to post it as an anonymous YouTube video, referencing the woman’s identity as a paid assassin, and have our friendly reporter blog about it,” Lydia said.

“What proof do we have that she’s a paid assassin?” I asked.

“None… yet.  We’re working on it.  We think she’s from Europe,” Lydia said. “We’re hoping for some information from your asset,” she said to me.

“Well, I only just gave him the assignment,” I said.

“It could backfire.  They could try to link her to us,” Tanya said.

“We think that Brystol’s blogging will be particularly effective in convincing the public,” Lydia replied.

“Okay, what the hell.  Better than sitting on our butts, right?” Tanya asked, looking at me.  I nodded.

“She’s gonna want something in return,” Lydia said.

“What?” I asked.

“An interview with the boy witch.  She wants the inside scoop on witches and witchcraft, as no one has broken that story yet,” Lydia said.

Arkady and Deckert’s phones buzzed simultaneously.

“We can ask him,” I said, watching the two answer their phones.

“Is Nika.  She confirmed that Simon was culprit.  Only Declan was nearby with Stacia and Nika might have said something out loud.  Now we have situation in lobby,” Arkady said.

“Maybe Stacia can contain him till we get there,” I said, jumping up and moving quickly for the elevator.

“Actually, we have a Peter and the Wolf situation.  Stacia heard Nika and Declan is keeping her from killing fool Simon,” Arkady said as we all rushed into the elevator.

A small group of us can input a code in the elevator to make it speed up and ignore other calls, but the ride down was still far too slow.

When the doors finally opened, the whole thing was front and center.  Stacia was holding Simon off the ground with one hand, her other hand formed into a truly nasty set of claws.  Simon looked rightfully terrified, his pants sporting a giant wet spot on the crotch.

Declan was standing just to Stacia’s side with his hand resting on her arm, the one with the claws, talking to her quietly.  His eyes didn’t even flicker our way as we moved over to the scene.  “Not worth it,” he was saying.

I moved around till I could see her face.  Her eyes were yellow and her jawline was slightly extended, with enlarged teeth.  Declan had one finger on her wrist ever so lightly. He looked up at me.  “Hey Chris.  Look, Stacia, Chris is here,” he said.  “Simon here played a prank on me and Stacia’s upset about it.”

“Prank?” she said, turning her glare on Declan.  Kid didn’t even flinch.  Then she glanced my way. “He poisoned Declan, Chris.  Put bacteria in his food—in his tacos.  It could have killed him!”  She was seriously pissed and possibly the only thing keeping Simon from being disemboweled was the finger on her wrist.  Her left arm didn’t even shake as she held the much-larger Simon six inches off the ground.

“Well, it’s grounds for dismissal.  In fact, he’ll have to leave or he’ll die,” I said.

“What?  Die?  That’s what we’re trying to avoid right here?” Declan asked.

“How do you think Remy will react when he finds out this idiot poisoned one of his meals and you got food poisoning from it?” I asked.

“He’ll kill him,” Stacia said, realization coming over her.  She dropped Simon and her arm and face returned to normal, if you call the evil grin on her face normal.

“Exactly.  In fact, Simon, you are fired, but we have to move you out of the city immediately or you might not survive,” I said.

“She… she almost just killed me right here.  I want to press charges, I want the police,” he babbled.

“You’re supposed to be smart, so shut up and listen up.  You are guilty of poisoning someone.  That’s at least assault.  Stacia’s response is completely defendable and you’re not even scratched,” I said looking him over to make sure I was right.  Oops, looks like his shirt had claw holes in it from her grip.  “We have awesome attorneys so you’ll sit in jail while she stays free.  But you contaminated the cuisine of a master chef, who is also a fairly old vampire.  No police cell in this city would keep you safe.  Remy has one passion… his cooking.  And you desecrated it and poisoned one of his favorite diners.  He will kill you.  Unless we get you out of the city and far from here. Now.”

“What about the project?  What about my stuff?” he asked, face white as a sheet.

“You’re off the project and bound by the confidentiality agreement you signed.  You are leaving now.  We’ll pack up your stuff and send it to you.  Your final check will be deposited to your account,” Tanya said, speaking for the first time.  She moved up and took his arm, moving him away from us, speaking rapidly and evenly about what would occur if he broke confidence.

Stacia watched them go, eyes focused like a predator losing its prey, but not moving to follow.  Declan pulled his hand from her arm and she looked down to where it had been resting, as if she just noticed it had been there.  A group of interns stood twenty feet away looking upset and scared.  Lydia and Deckert moved over to them, shooing them away.

“So I guess I would have expected you to be keeping him from killing Simon, not the other way around?” I asked Stacia.

“I heard Nika mutter something about Simon poisoning someone and knew immediately that it was Declan.  Next thing I knew, I was holding that asshole, wanting to murder him,” she said.

“Yeah, she just growled and took off across the floor.  Man, you’re fast,” Declan said to her.  “I figured it out pretty quick and then just tried to keep her from doing anything regrettable.”

“Weren’t you mad?” I asked him.

“Oh, I would have been.  If I had heard it first, I might have done something bad, but I don’t have that wolfy hearing.  Then I was more worried about Stacia than getting back at douche canoe with the wet pants,” he said.  “Can’t have my friend sitting in jail.  I’d have to break the jail or something and that would be really bad.  But I never thought of the Remy angle.  Would he really kill Simon?”

“Yes, he will unless we get the idiot far, far away.  Also, Declan, you might not feel like eating yet but if you request something light, an omelet maybe, from Remy, it’ll buy us time,” I said.

“I can do that.  No tacos though,” he said with a shudder.

“You would break me out?” Stacia asked Declan.

“Of course.  I mean, I’d let Darion have a go at the legal route, but if it didn’t work, I’d have to do something.  Maybe not break the whole building. Maybe something more subtle,” he said.

“Wow, you two are truly menaces to society,” Lydia said, coming up with a shamefaced Nika.

“I never mutter,” the telepath muttered.  “I’m always silent, but not this time.  Dammit!”

“No harm, no foul,” I said.  “Thought you were sleeping?” I asked Declan.

“He was.  But when I went to check on him, I found him watching TV. I thought some fresh air would perk him up, so I brought him up to the lobby for a walk outside,” Stacia said.

“I’m pretty perked up now,” Declan said with a slight grin.  Stacia swatted his arm, but it was a very light swat.

Arkady came over from the guard station.  “Idiot boy is on roof with Deckert.  Helicopter will fly to airport, then plane to West Coast.”

“What about Remy?” I asked.

“Young Queen is with him, requesting food for wicked warlock.  She will tell him after helicopter leaves.  You should be up there for Remy to feed,” he said to Declan.

“Wicked?  I am so far from wicked at the moment,” Declan said.  “Still, it’s good to have something to aspire to.”  He shuffled over to a chair and slumped into it.  Stacia watched him, concerned, and I noticed Lydia and Nika watching her.

Outside, the protestors marched back and forth, but they all kept glancing inside as if trying to figure out what our drama had been all about.

“Declan, that’s the work of the Church of the True.  We have a possible response but it will hinge on our friendly reporter, Brystol Chatterjee.  Lydia thinks she will want an interview in exchange.  With you.  Are you game?” I asked him.

“I guess.  What’s she gonna ask?  I’ve got to be a little careful about outing the circles or I’ll have the whole witch world out to get me,” he said.

“Aren’t they already?” Lydia asked.

“Yeah, pretty much, but at least they haven’t gotten hostile with me yet,” he said.

“You don’t have to answer all of her questions, just the ones you’re comfortable with,” I said.

“Plus, I’ll be with you.  Brystol and I are friends.  We’ll keep it civil,” Stacia said.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Lydia and Nika glance at each other.  “Okay, that sounds good.  Lydia?  You gonna contact Brystol?”

She turned slightly and I could see she had her phone already at her ear.  She pointed at it and rolled her eyes at me. Duh!

“Holy crap, does she ever give you sass,” Declan said from his chair.

“All night, every night.  It’s why I get up in the early afternoon.  Gotta have a few moments without all the yakking and backtalk,” I said.

Lydia’s eyes narrowed but she was too deep in conversation to respond.

“When do you want me to talk to the reporter lady?” Declan asked.

“As soon as we can get her in here,” I said, looking back at the mini-vampire on the phone.

She turned her back on me when she saw me looking, but I have super hearing too.

“Sounds like we’ll bring her in through the heliport.  First, we’ll want to give her the clip we found, then she’ll want to sit down with you.  Just answer what you’re comfortable with.  We didn’t promise you would spill the secrets of the ages, just a discussion.”

“Okay.  Guess I better go order an omelet from Remy,” he said, not moving immediately.  Then he pulled himself forward by the arms on the chair and stood up.

“Right, off I go,” he said.

“Come on, Declan, I’ll go with you so you don’t have to eat alone,” Stacia said, slipping an arm through his.  The two moved toward the elevators, leaving me with Nika and Lydia.  I didn’t say a word until the elevator doors closed and I heard the machinery engage.

“So what happened there?” I asked the two vampires.

“Offhand, I’d say that someone has gotten very attached to your intern,” Lydia said, putting her phone away.  “Attached and intensely protective.”

“Yeah, her rage was very real,” Nika said.  “Part of her took it as an attempt on his life, and that part wasn’t having it.”

“Let me guess… the wolf part?” I asked.

“Bingo.  I’m not sure if she’s even aware of how strongly she feels.  Seems like it might have snuck up on her,” Nika said.

“Okay, I didn’t see that coming,” I said.

“Well, we threw Stacia at the kid figuring he’d follow her like a puppy, but it seems like it might work both ways,” Lydia said.  “That’ll make Tanya really happy.”

“How do you feel about it, Chris?” Nika asked, watching me closely.

I looked at the elevator while I tried to sort my feelings.  My ego was taking a hit, but I knew, deep down, that I would never leave Tanya, so while I liked Stacia and found her attractive—who doesn’t?—there was never going to be anything between us.  She and Declan were only a few years apart and both were outsiders of sorts in their respective societies.

“I think I’m okay with it.  But will it last?”

“Oh, it’s way too early for any predictions.  They haven’t admitted it to each other and Stacia hasn’t admitted it to herself.  But that will happen.  Then we’ll see what kind of couple they might make,” Nika said.

“Nope, I disagree.  I think the writing’s on the wall.  Wolves mate for life you know,” Lydia said, smiling.

“Declan’s not a wolf,” I pointed out.

“Please. He’s a guy.  What straight male on the planet wouldn’t want to wake up next to a beauty like that who never ages?” Lydia said.

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.  They have different lifespans,” I said.

“Have you seen Declan’s aunt?  She looks what?  Twenty-five?  I think she’s pushing forty.  Powerful witches age slower than mere mortals,” Lydia said.  “I think they could be just fine.  Now let me get these security people orchestrated so I can get my blogger in here.”

She shot off to make Deckert’s life crazy, leaving me with Nika, who was still watching me.

“Honestly, I’m okay with it,” I said.

She smiled.  “I believe you, but it’s okay to have a few twinges of what if and what could have been.”

“Actually, the way things keep happening, I think there’s a whole lot less randomness to life than we all believe,” I said, thinking of a certain angel and his cryptic messages from on high.

Chapter 32 – Declan

I think I was more anxious about the reporter girl and her questions than I would have been tangling with Anvil.

“So witches are real?” was her opening gambit.

“Are all witches real?  In the sense that they proclaim themselves witches and they are real people, then yes.  But if you mean that some people can actually affect reality with their minds, then yes, there are spellcasters that are real,” I said.

Brystol pulled back, digesting my answer, then turned to Stacia.  “What did you tell him about me?  That I was like some kind of legal interrogator?”

Stacia was sitting to the side, legs crossed and the upside foot bouncing energetically over her knee while she studied her fingernails.  She flicked her gaze from Brystol to me and back again, shrugging.

An outside observer might have labeled her the gorgeous but shallow girl who was bored because the conversation wasn’t about her.  I mean, that’s the picture she presented, like some movie cliché. But I wasn’t fooled.

“By the way, thank you,” I said to her.  Her attention lifted from her cuticles and zoomed in on me.  Eyebrows rose up.

“Thank you for checking on me and thank you for what you did,” I said.

She frowned.  “I overreacted.”

“Yes, and thank you for that,” I said.  “People don’t overreact for me.  I liked it. But if you’ve got anything you need to be doing, I think I’ll be fine.  Right, Brystol?”

The reporter girl had been watching our byplay closely, and now she nodded.  “Yeah, sure.  The kid’s guarded like he’s his own attorney, but what the hell.”

“You getting rid of me?” Stacia asked in dangerous tone.

I leaned back and waved a hand at her posture.  “You’re twitchy and distracted.  I thought you might be dwelling on stuff you need to get done or something.”

She looked down at her bouncing foot and it stopped.  Leaning back, she crossed her arms and focused on us.  “Nope.  You have my complete attention,” she said, expression closed.

Something sure as hell was bothering her, but it looked like she was just annoyed with me.  Awesome. Declan O’Carroll—smooth talker.

“Oookay.  Back to the interview.  So witches are real and they cast spells.  They whip up potions and ride broomsticks, too?” Brystol asked with a smile.

“Spell casting… yes.  Potions… for some.  Riding broomsticks… hey, what they do in the privacy of their own homes is their business, right?” I replied.

Brystol laughed.  “Okay, that’s better.  So let’s dig into this spell thing.  How does it work?”

“How long is this interview?  A week?” I asked. “That’s a huge topic.  Let me trim it down a bit.  Spells are methods of focusing the mind to direct the energy the witch is trying to work with.  Much like a student will use mnemonics to memorize information before a test.”

“Huh?  You’re saying the whole eye of newt and cobweb in the pot is just a study aid?” Brystol asked.

“Sorta.  It’s about concentration.  Losing focus while you’re playing a song on the piano can result in a discordant note.  Losing focus while casting a spell can cause a discordant wave of energy that can wreak havoc at worst or just plain fail to achieve the desired goal at best,” I said. “So the components of the spell act as mental place markers for the caster.  In the old days, that might have been animal parts or an organic, naturally strong substance like cobweb.  Today’s witch might choose a photograph instead of amphibian chunks and paracord rather than spider silk.”

“And this energy?  It comes from where?” Brystol asked.

“Well, my AP Physics teacher used to tell us that everything is made of energy.  Atoms bound into patterns.  The witch pulls energy from her surroundings, usually from one of the four elements, whichever one she has an affinity for.”

“The four elements?  Let me guess, Earth, Water, Fire, and Wind?” she asked.

“Well, yeah, but we usually refer to the last one as Air,” I said.

“So you just yank energy from your pet element?  How does that work?” she asked.

“Good question.  I don’t have an answer.  It just does.”

“Can you show me?” she asked, eyes glittering with curiosity.

I rummaged in my gear bag and pulled out a lighter.  Nothing fancy, just your basic Bic disposable.  Lighting it, I stuck my index finger into the flame and held it there.

Brystol looked startled, then fascinated and slightly alarmed as she leaned closer.  Stacia’s attention was suddenly focused on my little act too, although she didn’t look worried.

At first, Brystol watched like she was trying to figure out the magic trick, but as the seconds ticked by and my finger remained in the flame, she started to frown.  After almost a full minute, I snapped the lighter off.  Then I held up the index finger for her to see.  It was just a tiny bit red.  My other hand came up and a little flame sprang up from that index finger, looking identical to the lighter’s output.

“So, I absorbed the heat from the lighter and took its energy inside myself.  Then I projected it out the end of my other finger.”

“Fire doesn’t burn you?” she asked.

“It’s a question of scale.  A lighter?  No.  A flamethrower, probably.”

“Probably?  Okay, I get fire.  It’s very obvious energy. But how about water?  Or air?  How does that work?”

“Well I don’t get along with water so I’m not the best source, but basically, if you have an affinity for an element, your expression of its energy reflects that.  Water witches make very good healers, as our bodies are like over ninety percent water.  Air witches usually are very good at divining the immediate future or visualizing distant events.”

“Remote viewing and clairvoyance?” she clarified.

“Pretty much.  Air is a pretty common affinity.  Earth witches are good at growing things and understanding the lay of the land,” I said.

“So the witch has an innate sense of that element?” she asked.

“Exactly.  A water dowser is someone with latent water witch abilities, if only a trace.  The person who everyone claims has a green thumb might actually have a few genes passed down to them from an earth witch.”

“Wait, you make it sound like these traits are common.”

“Maybe more common than you think.  But they’re just traces.  A true witch has a much greater concentration of those traits,” I said.

“Do you call males witches or warlocks?”

“Witches. We call them both witches.”

“So where does the term warlock come from?” she asked.

“It’s a special term for a male witch who has been… adapted for war,” I said. “Very rare.”

“Do you know any?” she asked.

“Yes. Next question,” I said.

Her eyebrows went up a bit a that and she looked at Stacia, who just smirked.

“Ah, okay.  Not going to forget that but we can circle around.  Okay, which are more common, female or male witches?”

“Females by far.  Males are very rare.  Usually much weaker, too.”

“But not warlocks?” she snuck in.

“A warlock isn’t magically stronger than a witch, just adapted for combat,” I said.

“Huh?  What’s that mean?” she asked.

“Duh.  Physically stronger and faster,” Stacia said, back to checking over her fingernails.

“Oh.  So by combat, you mean they actually fight, not stand back and throw plus one magic missiles?”

“Yeah, exactly.  Nice reference to Dungeons and Dragons, by the way,” I said.

“You play?” she asked, surprised.

“Of course.”

“Because you’re a witch?” she asked.

“Because he’s a nerd,” Stacia threw in, flashing a brief smile at me to take the sting out.

“That’s actually true.  I’m an official nerd,” I said.

“One who never needs a lighter to light candles, except you have one… why?” Brystol asked.

“Because lighting candles and stuff with a thought is a great way to get attention.  Witches don’t want attention,” I said. “There’s something about ancestors being burnt at the stake that will make you avoid attention.”

“You go around lighting a lot of candles in public?” she asked.

“Look it’s just a lighter.  I also have twine, two different knives, a first aid kit, like a dozen Sharpies, four colors of chalk, a multi-tool, a little flashlight, a bottle of water, and a candy bar,” I said.  “It’s just stuff I carry.”

“Why?  Because he’s a nerd,” Stacia said, grinning at her own joke.  Her hand flipped out, open and palm up.  “I’ll take that candy bar, Intern O’Carroll.”

I glared a bit at her, but it bounced right off.  Reaching into the bag for the chocolate, I turned to Brystol.  “See what it’s like?  Senior staff bullying interns.”

Brystol watched as Stacia opened the extra large Snickers bar and took a big bite.  “I frigging hate you and your stupid wolf metabolism,” she said to Stacia as another big bite of candy bar disappeared.

“Okay, so I’m not interested in corporate abuse stories or any of that.  Take it up with HR.  Let’s get back to this witchcraft thing.  It runs in families?” Brystol asked.

“Yup.  We call a group of witches a circle.  Circles spellcraft together, share power and skills.  Most of the bigger circles keep track of each other and will occasionally have meetings or, I don’t know, mixers maybe.  Sometimes people are… exchanged.”

“Exchanged?  You talking like hostages or do you mean like as potential partners?”

“Ah, well, actually it could be both.  Usually not hostages, but some of these circles are paranoid. Odd negotiations can occur. Anyway, mostly it’s for the introduction of new bloodlines,” I said.

“Ooooh.  Life wife swapping or something?” she asked, leaning forward for the juicy details.

“In a word?  Yeah.  Males aren’t usually swapped but sorta lent out, so to speak,” I said, uncomfortable with the direction we’d taken.

“Like stud service?  No way?” she asked, grinning.  “Is that what you have to look forward to?  Is your circle going to stud you out?”

“I’m not part of a circle.  My mom and aunt left the family circle and moved here,” I said, feeling a frown form itself on my face.

“But you’re a male witch.  And you go to that school that Demidova Corp sponsors, right?” she asked.  I just nodded.  “So the girl witches there must be looking you over, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s a bit worse than that.  Parent weekend at school is kinda of a scary thing for me,” I said.

“Oh come on?  They can’t all be hags, can they?” she asked.

“No, most of the witches at school are okay.  In fact, Ryanne and the twins are more than okay,” I admitted.

“Hah!  Twins?  That’s like every guy’s dream, isn’t it?” Brystol asked gleefully.

Before I could answer, a balled-up wrapper shot between us and landed smoothly inside the wastebasket in the corner of the room.  We both turned to Stacia, whose expression was bland.  “Men are pigs,” she said, standing up.  “I actually do have some things to do.  Brystol won’t bite, right?  Good.  See you later,” she said, striding away.

“What crawled up her ass?” Brystol asked after the door shut behind the werewolf girl.

“I don’t know.  I suspect it has to do with a run-in we had with another employee.  She kinda scared the crap outta him and maybe it’s bothering her,” I said.

“Her?  That’s not usually the kind of thing she has second doubts about.  Must be something else, although we’re still have over a week before full moon.  Anyway, tell me more,” she requested.

I spent a full hour with Brystol, giving her solid material but not too much dangerous detail.  And she promised to keep my name out of print.  I had way too much attention from other circles as it was; I didn’t need more.  But all the talk about circles and families made me miss mine, so I called my aunt after Brystol left.

“Oh, if it isn’t the long lost boyo.  And to what do I owe the honor?” my aunt said.

“Aunt Ash, I just spoke to you the day before yesterday,” I said.

“And what’s wrong with making it daily thing?” she asked.

“Well, I was under the weather a bit.  Had a touch of food poisoning, but it’s gone now,” I said, adding the last bit in a hurry.

“Are ye sure?” she asked, all banter gone from her tone.

“Yes, the corporate doctor checked me out.  He could literally smell what the bacteria was.  It’s run its course.”

“And jest how did ye catch the wee nasty in the first place?” she asked.

“Well, that’s the funny thing,” I said, trying desperately to think of a way it could be made to sound funny.  “It was a bit of a prank by one of the other interns.”

“What?” Her tone combined shock with fierce maternal anger.

“It’s been handled.  The guy that did it got fired,” I said.

“I should hope so!  Prank indeed.  What kind of a shop would they be running there?” she asked, still outraged.

“A very interesting one, Aunt Ash.  Very interesting.  Listen, not to change topics drastically and bluntly, but that Macha woman and the rest of the Irwin Circle approached me,” I said.

Inadvisable, young warlock, Sorrow offered.

Couldn’t disagree with that, but I did want her advice.

“What?” she asked, voice rising.

“It’s okay.  They were mostly civil about it. She said they want to teach me, that they have secrets even you don’t know.”

“You know what they want, Declan.  Do I need to say it out loud and make us both uncomfortable?” she said.

Okay, I did know.  They wanted my genetic material, and they wanted it combined back into the Circle’s bloodline.  Mack wanted to be my manager and charge stud fees.  Something about how his family of horse breeders had always aspired to have a winning stallion that could be the family’s cash cow and the irony of finding it in his school roommate.

“No!  I mean, no that won’t be necessary.  Macha also thinks I have the Book of Darkest Sorrow.  Or at least that I’ve seen it,” I said.

She sighed, instantly making me feel guilty for being the world’s worst nephew.  “And jest how would she have been coming to that conclusion?” she asked.

“Well, they sorta trapped me on this overpass in the middle of a rainstorm and Sorrow offered up a really cool conversion spell and a shield spell.  Did you know that you can change one affinity’s energy into another affinity?” I asked.

“Of course, dear.  That’s what happens when a circle shares power,” she said.

“No, I mean internally.  I turned a small amount of Earth energy into Fire.”

“And Macha knows you did?” she asked, her voice more alarmed than before, if that was even possible.

“No, at least, I don’t see how she would have.  The shield spell blocked the rain, and that was enough to make her suspicious.  She would have thought I was spending reserves when I dried my clothes.”

“T’would be an incredibly useful spell for a dual affinity Crafter.  Even more so for a tri-affinity one,” she agreed. “I don’t think you should be doing this, Declan.”

“I think I have to, Aunt Ash,” I said.  “They’ll just keep tracking me down.”

“Then if yer dead set upon this course, don’t go alone.  Take some of yer high-powered employers wit ye,” she said, her brogue getting thicker as she got more upset.

“That is probably a good idea,” I admitted.

“And did ye send for one of yer beasties?  Because I have jest the one here,” she asked.

“I did, Aunt Ash, but not for this problem.  Are you safe up there?  I can send it back,” I offered.

“No, no, we’re fine. And ye left the one that listens to me.  The other not so much,” she said.

“They were both supposed to listen to you.  What did it do?”

“Nothing, nothing lad.  I was perfectly fine with it, but it doesn’t share an affinity with me like the other.  You do know what they’ve become, don’t you, lad?” she asked.

“I have a pretty good idea.  Not sure how it happened though,” I admitted.

“Consequences, lad. It’s all about consequences.  Yer power changes even basic spells.  Ye have to always be keeping that in mind,” she said.  “But I’ll feel better knowing the great blooming thing is down there with ye.”

“I’ll be okay, Aunt Ash,” I said.

“I know it lad, I know it.  Just keep those consequences in mind.  Yer my only family left, boyo,” she said, voice quavering.

“I know and I will.  I love you, Aunt Ash,” I said.

“I love you too, Declan me lad.  And so does Darcy and even that scoundrel Levi,” she said.

That gave me an opening to ask about my former instructor and his latest escapades among the small population of single women in Castlebury.  After that, we said our good-byes and hung up.

I gave myself a few moments of homesickness, wondering about my friends and my best friend Rory in particular.  I could see how college and summer jobs could really change the way you saw your hometown.  Luckily, my generation grew up with a handy thing called texting and I spent the next half hour catching up with my oldest friend.

Then I mentally put on my big boy pants and went looking for Stacia.  Time to reach out to these witches.

Chapter 33 – Chris

It was a frustrating day that took a decidedly downward turn when I emerged from my latest meeting with HR and Deckert concerning Simon’s termination and his lightning fast removal to the West Coast.  Susskins had raised a fuss when Chet told him his intern was gone, Simon had made threatening comments about lawsuits in his exit interview, and the rest of the intern population was on pins and needles after one of their own got canned.  The one bright spot was a message, via a pre-agreed-upon, spam-type email from Mark, that he’d managed to get close enough to Cuttle that the Trojan phone had introduced its magical virus to Cuttle’s own phone.  Job done, he was heading back to the Big Apple.

So I went looking for Declan to see if his pet virus had reported anything back yet.  Only, instead of my intern, all I found was a message.  According to the HR secretary, he’d asked to see me and been told I was in an important meeting.  What he left was a note saying he was meeting with his estranged family circle in Central Park and he’d wanted to see if I’d go with him for backup.  His note assured me that I was probably too busy, but that he had Stacia with him, as she’d helped set the up the meeting.

So now I was first feeling incredibly anxious that he was possibly headed into danger, second, guilty as hell that I wasn’t there for him and third, vaguely puzzled as to what Stacia had to do with setting up witch meetings.

I called Deckert and told him I needed a car and driver to go to Central Park.  He said no, I needed a car and a full security team.  ‘Sos, in wolf form, popped suddenly around the corner of the hall and then sat and just stared at me, so I replied back to Deckert that that would be fine but it needed to be a big car because we’d have furry company with us.

So twenty-nine minutes later, we pulled through the gates of Central Park in one of the big Mercedes vans, with Stevens driving, me in shotgun guiding him based on vague feelings of where Stacia might be, and Deckert with two other heavies in back, along with three hundred pounds of wolf-bear hybrid.

Stacia can always seem to track me down and I figured it ought to work in reverse, but we made a bunch of wrong turns till Stevens wondered about the dark clouds gathering over just one part of the Park. That seemed to be a dead giveaway for a bunch of witches.

“So are these gonna be pointy-hat-and-wart types?” Stevens asked casually as he pulled up next to a multi-use sports field that wasn’t being used for sports.  Instead, two groups of women faced off, forming two points of a triangle, the last point being Declan and Stacia standing closest to us. “Oh, looks more like rival PTAs.”

My Sight showed thick webs of black strands weaving and twisting about both groups of women.  One group was smaller, just a dozen or so, but the mass of black writhing about it was three times the size of the one over the other twenty or thirty women facing them.  Declan and Stacia were wrapped tight in a dark cylinder that I had come to recognize as one of his personal circles of protection.

“Everyone, make sure you have your amulets on,” I said as we de-assed from the van.  All Demidova security types wore my personal amulets, fashioned from Zuni soapstone fetishes.  They were strong anti-demon medicine, and my personal brand of power had always been pretty resistant to witches’ magic. Even ‘Sos wore one on his expandable collar.

My furry partner slipped out of the van first and beelined for Declan and Stacia, stopping just short of the circle of power protecting them.

I followed him, coming up behind the two with Deckert and company fanning out behind me.

“Hey boss.  Thanks for coming.  I thought you might have more important things to do,” Declan greeted me, glancing over one shoulder.

“Declan, when this is done, you and I are going to have a talk about where you stand on the priority ladder.  You should have had them interrupt my meeing,” I said.

“Oh.  Well, the secretary seemed pretty bossy and was adamant that you couldn’t be disturbed,” he said, eyes back on the two groups of women who were fifty yards away from us and yelling at each other.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“The group on the left is Declan’s estranged Irish circle.  The one on the right is a local group that’s been hosting them.  That blonde one in the front, wearing leather pants, with the nasty mouth, is my friend Mitzi.  From what we can gather, Mitzi’s group was first honored and a little worried that these Irish bigwigs were here.  Now, they feel betrayed at being used to search for Boy Wonder here.  They were told he was just a relative.  Then I might have let something slip to Mitzi about how all the witch circles were after him and they must have done some research.  Then that stupid book came up and well, here ya go,” Stacia said.

“What do they want from you, Declan?” Stevens asked quietly.

“Well, um, mostly babies,” he said.

“What?” Stevens questioned, the other security guys looking confused.

“Witches have long-term breeding programs.  Males are rare.  I’m kinda even rarer,” Declan admitted.

“So they want you to do what?  Boink all these women?” Stevens pressed.

“Nice, Stevens. Real classy,” Stacia muttered.

“In a nutshell,” Declan said.

“So what’s the problem?” Stevens continued, looking honestly puzzled.

“I’m not going to contribute to a mass of fatherless children, raised by women I don’t trust,” Declan said, a note of steel in his voice.

“Boinking aside, what’s the lowdown here?” Deckert asked.  “Is this as one-sided as it looks?”

“It’s one-sided, but in the opposite direction of what you would think.  The Irwin Circle has much greater skill, each of them is individually more powerful, and they have greater access to the power around them,” Declan said, confirming what my Sight had shown me.

“Ahem,” I said loudly, addressing the witches.  The witches didn’t notice.  I glanced at Awasos and nodded.  He flowed into bear form, stood up to his full twelve-foot height, and roared.

They noticed that.  “Ladies, before you get more deeply involved in your conflict resolution, I just wanted to introduce myself,” I said loudly.

“We are knowing you, Demon’s Bane,” an older Irish woman said, frowning at me.

“Good. Well, you should understand that young Declan here is a member of my team and is fully backed by myself, Tatiana, and the entire Demidova Corporation.  He’s indicated to me that he won’t be fathering any children in the near future, so your argument might better be shelved,” I said.

“So you would stick yer nose in Circle business, would ye?  Thinking yer all high and mighty?  Declan is ours by right of birth and ye’ll wish ye had never been born if ye think to stand between us and ours,” the old witch spat out.

“He’s an American citizen, free to choose his own relationships,” yelled out one of the New York witches.

“Shut yer pie hole,” a younger version of the old witch yelled back.  Instantly, the noise ratcheted back up and the dark strands began to grow around them.

I looked to ‘Sos, but Declan caught my eye.  “I think I got this,” he said.

He looked down at the ground by his feet, a furrow forming between his eyes as he concentrated.  Then he raised one foot and stomped.  Not a light stomp, but a deliberate, focused, mother-of-all-insect-smashing stomps.

The earth shook hard, spreading out in a wave from his foot, getting more powerful as it reached the feuding witches, knocking more than half of them off their feet.

“Holy shit, D!” Stacia said, looking at him in shock.

He turned and grinned a sly grin at us.  “I’ve been building that up while they were bickering, plus I have some help,” he said a little cryptically.  Then he addressed the two groups of stunned women.

“I am the product of rape.  I grew up without a father.  I will not have that cycle repeated with my children, should I ever choose to have any,” he said.  “Macha, I agreed to meet with you, to hear you out.  But I am not yours and I’ve no interest in furthering your breed.”

“Ye don’t get to choose family, boy,” she said back to him.

“But I do get to choose whether I stay in their company.  You imply forcing me whether I want to or not.  Maybe you can.  It’ll cost you, though.  It’ll cost you a lot, and if you take your eyes off me even once, it might just cost you everything,” he said.

“We would never try to force you, Declan,” Stacia’s friend Mitzi yelled, putting a hand on one hip to emphasis her curves.  “We will make you happy and you can raise your children with us.”

“I vote for her team,” Stevens muttered.  Stacia shot him a disgusted glare.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know any of you.  I’m not the father-them-and-leave-them type.  So no breeding from this kid,” he said.

“What about the book?” yelled one of Mitzi’s crew.

I reached behind my back and pulled the skin-covered book from where I had it tucked between pants and shirt.  “You mean this book?” I asked, holding it up.  “Darkest Sorrows?”  I fanned the pages, holding them where the witches could see that they were all blank.  Then I tossed it between them.

A young New York witch dove for it, but another young witch on the Irish side just flicked one hand and yanked the book to her.  She eagerly looked through it, only to frown as she failed to find anything written.  The old witch yanked it from her hands and inspected it herself.

“What kind o’trick be this?” she asked, glaring at me.

“The book was damaged by an eldritch blade, as you can see by the hole cut all the way through it.  All of its spells and writing disappeared when that happened.  You’re welcome to it,” I said.

“Bah, ye expect me to belive ya?” she said.  “The boy showed spells that I know he didn’t learn from his mother.”

“I had the book for a while, Macha.  I read some of it.  Then it got stabbed by an elf and what you have is the remains,” Declan said.

Macha stared at him, the gears almost visible as she thought about his words.  The book was passed among the other Irish witches, then thrown back on the ground, where a New York witch snagged it with an invisible yank.

“This isn’t done, boy,” Macha finally said.

“Well, we’re done with you, ya manipulating bitches” Mitzi’s leader said.  “Collect your belongings from our homes and be gone.”

“Ye’ve broken the Code of Hospitality and ye have the gall ta think we’d ever deign to stay with ye again?  Our relations be at an end,” was the response.

I actually felt when Declan dropped his circle, the power fading down into the ground.  “I think that’s our cue to get the F outta Dodge,” he said.

“Right. Let’s fall back, boys,” Deckert said, Stevens heading to the van’s driver seat while the rest of us walked backward.

Comments were being thrown back and forth out on the field, but they were desultory at best.  One young Irish girl stood stock still, eyes locked on Declan, face a mask of determined anger.

“Who’s that?” I asked him.

“Einin.  Macha’s granddaughter.  I think she’s pretty powerful,” Declan answered. “We’ve tangled before.”

“So she’d be first in line for the rights to, ah… well, you?” I asked.

“Yeah, although we’re probably like third or fourth cousins or something equally gross,” he said.

“She’s not bad looking,” Stevens said, leaning out the driver’s window to study the girl witch.  “Anything over second cousin and you’re good to go.”

“Eew, Stevens, just eew. Every time I think I’ve heard it all, you take it to a new low,” Stacia said.

“Well, baby, I’d be happy to get low with you,” he leered, waggling his eyebrows.

One of the other guys, I think his name was Doug, laughed.  “Last time you got low with Stacia, she choked you out.  Took you like five minutes to get your shit together,” he said.  Deckert snorted and the other security guy, James, laughed a short, sharp bark at Stevens’ expense.

Doug pulled open the van doors and we piled in, Stacia and Awasos first.  That left Declan and me, along with Deckert, standing outside the van, watching the witches.

“Go ahead, Declan. I’ll cover,” I said.

“I thought I better cover, on account of they’re witches and all,” he said.

“Gentlemen, kindly enter the vehicle.  I get paid to cover your exits,” Deckert said with a sigh.  The kid and I exchanged glances, then we jumped in almost side by side.  Deckert backed into the van and gave Stevens a whistle while he closed and latched the doors.

The witches were separating, moving in opposite directions.  Overhead, the clouds began to break up, a single ray of sunlight shining down on the newly empty field as if a beam of light from God.

Chapter 34 – Declan

I was more than a little bummed.  Nothing ever seemed to get settled with these witches.

“At least they won’t bug you about the book any more,” Chris said suddenly.  He must have been on a similar train of thought.

“But they know he looked through it, so they’re going to want to pick his brain,” Stacia said from her position slumped on the opposite seating bench.  Her long legs were sticking out into the open floor space and her pants clung to lean muscle.  The other two guys were looking her over and it bothered me.

“You think so?” Chris asked her.

“I know so.  Mitzi’s been texting me non-stop since we left.  Trying to use our friendship to get to D,” she said.

“That seems kinda shitty,” Chris said.

“Her exact first words.  Stacia, I feel kinda shitty, but can you give me Declan’s number.”

“They’re desperate,” one of the security guys said.  “Declan’s a huge prize.  Powerful, with the promise of producing powerful witch babies and a mental repository of lost witch knowledge.  Things like friendship get tossed aside when survival is at stake.”

“Survival seems a bit much, doesn’t it, James?” Chris asked.

“Not really.  The Irish witches were like a SEAL team, if I got that right,” James said, looking at me for confirmation.

“Yeah, that’s a real good analogy,” I agreed.

“And the New Yorkers more like National Guard, inexperienced ones at that, not combat vets.  They have the numbers, but the Irish ones have vastly more skill and firepower.  And the Irish ones were on the hunt for a backpack nuke named Declan.  Only this nuke can make more of itself. Can’t let them get that much advantage.  So her whole clan or coven or what have you is looking over her shoulder right now, waiting to see what you text back,” James said.

Stacia looked up at him from her phone, surprised.  “A man of hidden intellect.  I like it,” she said, making me unreasonably angry.

Now, I’m not an idiot.  I knew perfectly well that I was being jealous and I had no personal shot with her, but that didn’t make a lick of difference to my emotions.

So, jealous and angry, I did what every teenager does in an angsty situation—I retreated to my own phone.

“What did you tell her?” Chris asked.

“I told her to step the F off.  Any messages would have to go through me,” she said, which made me feel better.

“After all, we gotta take care of our team member brothers and sisters,” she said with a quick friend zone smile in my direction.

And back to feeling sorry for myself.

Unworthy, Sorrow said.

She was unworthy of me? I wondered.

Self-pity is an unworthy emotion for you.  Gifted beyond measure, desired by hundreds.

Can’t even hold my own pity party without crashers.  Maybe he was right.  I opened up my texts and found a recent one from Mack.  He had a funny story about trying to impress one of Jetta’s waitress friends and slipping in a puddle and totally wiping out.  I almost chuckled out loud.

“Funny stuff, D?” Stacia asked suddenly.  I hadn’t realized she was paying attention.

“Just Mack.  Funny story about a pretty waitress,” I said.

“I like stories about pretty waitresses,” Stevens chimed in.

“You’d like my roommate, Stevens.  He’s a ladies man, too,” I said.

“No, I’ve met Mack.  He’s an actual ladies man with actual game,” Stacia said.  “You could probably take lessons from him, Stevens.”

“Oooooooo,” Doug said.  “I smell toast.”

“I’m going to tell him you said that.  It’ll boost him back up.  He failed hard with the waitress,” I said, laughing as my fingers texted.

She gave me a little smile, then went back to her own phone.  The rest of the ride was quiet.

Back at Demidova World Headquarters, I got busy with checking the Gmail account we created to receive the results of Cuttle’s infected phone. A single message sat in the inbox.  I opened it.

Fifteen minutes later, I came off the elevator on the Executive floor, heading for Tanya’s door in a rush.  The receptionist was a vampire, a redhead, perfectly quaffed and dressed like a million dollars.  She managed to slide between me and the office door in a blur of pale skin.  She bared fangs and nails that had become talons.

“I have to see Chris and Tanya,” I said.

“Nobody barges in!” she hissed, her elongated fangs twisting her words.

“I don’t have time for this!” I said.  I raised my right hand and made a knocking motion from seven feet away.  The heavy doors shuddered under the blows.  The receptionist hissed again and blurred straight at me.  She came to a sudden stop against my shield, fangs and claws six inches from my face.

I picked her up and held her in mid-air, but before I could move, the doors opened and both Chris and Tanya stood there, ready for battle.

“Celeste?  Why are you hovering in mid-air and snarling at Declan?” Tanya asked.  “Declan, why is my assistant floating up there?”

“He tried to break in!” Celeste snarled.  Perfect blue eyes and unearthly violet ones turned my way.

“Cuttle’s phone hack came through.  I have the entire contents on my laptop,” I said.

“That’s good news but please put Celeste down and apologize to her,” Tanya said.

“Sorry Celeste,” I said, lowering her down behind her desk.  She sniffed and ignored me, pulling out her chair and gracefully sitting down.

I shrugged at Chris and Tanya.  Chris let a quick smile flicker over his features, but Tanya just raised one eyebrow.  Thoroughly ensconced in her domain, Celeste the assistant turned to her computer and began typing with vampiric speed.  After a second, she turned and smiled up at the power couple.  “Anything else, ma’am?”

“No Celeste.  Thank you for your bravery,” Tanya said.  Chris waved me into the office while Tanya spoke for a moment with her ruffled secretary.

“Sorry, but I was in a hurry and then she got up in my grill and well, I just reacted,” I said.

“You couldn’t knock?” he asked.

“I did!”

“Almost broke the doors,” he said.

“Well I got in trouble for not interrupting your HR meeting, so now I guess I went too far the other way,” I said.

Tanya slipped in and closed the doors behind her.

“Is she alright?” I asked.

“Mad, embarrassed, and more than a little afraid,” she said.

“Afraid?” I asked.  “She’s a freaking vampire.  Came at me like a crazed supernatural spider monkey hopped up on speed.”

“You have a significant reputation among the staff.  She takes her job extremely seriously.  She thought you would burn her to ashes,” Tanya said.

“Burn her?  I just wanted to update you on Cuttle,” I said.

“You stopped a falling elevator, drove off a dangerous program, and destroyed an army of vampire-killing robots.  Our security staff has a special protocol in place in case you freak out,” Chris said.

“I hardly ever burn people to ash,” I protested.  “Maybe I should get her flowers or something?” I wondered.

“Not a bad idea,” Tanya said.

“Enough of all that. What did you find?” Chris asked.

“Here, check this out—a set of texts that sound an awful lot like he’s requesting a hit.  This one even has Krysta’s name in it,” I said.

The computer disappeared from my hands in a rush of displaced air.  Chris gave me an apologetic shrug on his vampire’s behalf because she was already poring over the contents of the cell phone at her desk.

“This is the motherlode,” she said, reaching for her phone.  “Celeste?  Track down Lydia, Josh, Darion, and Chet.  Ask them all to come directly to my office, please.  What?  No, you were entirely correct.  He was just excited to present this to me.  Very well,” she said.

“What’s the gist?” Chris asked me.

“It’s like a poorly written spy movie dialogue.  Cuttle uses pretty obvious language and requests that a situation be resolved.  Then in one text, he gives the recipient her name and address,” I said.

“This is excellent,” Tanya said, her head coming up to look our way, a feral gleam in her bright blue eyes.  Somehow, I felt like I had just launched a missile at this guy Cuttle, one that might take some time to arrive on target, but when it did, it would be game over.

The door opened and Celeste showed Chet and a young guy in a dark suit and dark-rimmed glasses into the office. She gave me a glare and them a smile.  Yup, flowers were definitely in order.

“Chris?  When do I get paid?” I asked.

“Every other Thursday,” he said, looking up from the scrum of people clustered around my computer.  “Today, in fact.”

“Good, I need to see about some flowers, and I don’t think you guys need me here,” I said.  He waved me off.

“Okay then.  I’m off.  I’ll see about getting my computer later,” I said.  No one answered, all involved in the texts.

I showed myself out.  Celeste ignored me.  “Again, I’m sorry,” I said.  She pretended not to hear me.  Right.

Pulling out my phone to search for florists, I instead found a text from Mack.  His sister was going on a weekend girls shopping trip to Manchester, Vermont.  He wondered if he caught the train out of Saratoga if I might want some company.  I sent back a Hell Yeah.

Then I checked my bank account.  And checked it again.  Something was wrong.  Way, way wrong.  The balance made no sense whatsoever.  I called H.R.  The numbers were right.  My first paycheck was bigger than my entire summer job the year before.  Actually, maybe almost two summers of work.  Then I multiplied it by twenty-six pay periods.  That number was just stupid.  I was so befuddled that when the elevator door opened, I just got off and found myself on the gym floor, not my floor.  The doors had slid shut before I figured it out.  Then I heard fighting.

The gym doors were locked, but I could sense Thing Two inside, and the growls and snarls sounded entirely familiar.  The lock and I had a brief Earth witch-to-lock conversation, and the door slipped open.

Inside, I found a white-furred werewolf in combat form fighting the killer centipede.  She thrust at it with the pinch pry bar, jabbing between the whirling blades, the sledgehammer held in her right paw, waiting to place the kill shot.  But the pede was adapting to her tactics.  It dropped down flat, scuttling forward under the spearlike pry bar.  She swung her hammer but the pede hunched up its first three segments and spun a single blade.  The steel edge caught the wooden haft of the sledge just behind the head and crunched into it, knocking the heavy hammer aside.  A blur of metal feet and it was inside her weapon range.  She scrambled back but a single mandible flicked forward, scoring a touch on a giant white foot.  Then it stopped, frozen by the constraints I had programmed into it for sparring.

The werewolf snarled in frustration, throwing down the bar and the hammer with a clang and a wooden crunch.  The head of the hammer was now cockeyed; the haft cut almost all the way through.

She spun to me and growled, then Changed, shifting in a blur of crunching and shrinking till just a naked woman stared at me.  A magnificent woman whose perfection was only enhanced by her anger.

“Does a locked door mean anything to you?” she demanded.  “Do you just enter wherever you like?”

Second time in a half hour I got in trouble with a woman for entering without knocking properly.  Damn new record, O’Carroll.

“I was just checking on you.  I heard fighting.”

“Right, and you just had to come and save me yet again, is that it?  I’m helpless without you?” she asked, really pissed.

“No, no.  Listen, I’m sorry.  I hear fighting, I check on things,” I said, both hands up, eyes on her eyes.

“Maybe I don’t need a smart-assed wizard to save me all day long.  You’re not the center of the world, you know,” she said, storming past me and grabbing her clothes from beside the door.  I didn’t turn to look at her, instead frozen in place by my own sudden anger.

I got in trouble for not opening doors, I got in trouble for trying to open doors, and now I was in trouble for opening a door to check on a friend.  Couldn’t fucking win for trying.  Part of me understood, at least on some level, that she was mad at herself as much as she was mad at me.  Well, me too.  I was mad at myself, but why should she take it out on me?

She finished dressing and stormed out, slamming the gym door in the process, leaving me staring at the dropped and broken weapons.  I stood that way for about three full minutes, eyes on the sheared-off hammerhead and the prybar.  Then something clicked.  A thought shoved its way past the anger and the hurt feelings and demanded attention.  Moving forward, my hands picked up the hammerhead and the cold metal bar.  Then I looked at Thing Two.

“Rise up and extend one blade,” I ordered it, trusting its own AI to pick a suitable blade.  “Freeze position.”

The steel blade was banged and scratched but still plenty sharp enough to chop me in half.  I held the pry bar in both hands and reached forward till the point touched the metal carapace.  Then I noted where the blade was, how close the tip of the blade was to me and how much space there was between the pede’s body and the beginning of the blade.  And just like that, the idea formed solid as steel.

“Stand down and recharge,” I ordered, leaving the pede but taking the bar and steel hammerhead.

Back in my own apartment, I texted Mack.  Be prepared to help me with a project.

He wrote back instantly.  Fine, but we are going to have fun too right? And I’m gonna show you some of my work.

Wanna go to Plasma?

Hell Yeah!

That settled, I left the tools and headed out onto the mean streets, tracking down a florist with late evening hours.  Purchase in hand, I headed back for the tower.

In the lobby, the elevator door opened, revealing Grace and Aleesha on one side of the car and Stacia on the other.  All three looked at me, then at the bouquet of white roses in my hand.  I stood back to let them all off, not saying a word.  Grace and Aleesha slid by me, eyes flicking from the flowers to my face and then back to the flowers.  Stacia frowned at the flowers, then at me.  I shifted the flowers to my other hand and waved her off the elevator.  Now her frown shifted to puzzlement as she stepped by me.  I walked into the car and turned around, pressing the button for the executive floor, still not saying a word.  All three females looked at me, confusion on one face and curious speculation on the other two.  Then the doors slid shut.

Celeste raised one eyebrow at me when I stepped off on the exec floor.  When I set the vase of roses on her desk and apologized again, she allowed the smallest quirk of a smile before it fled from her face, but she did give me a single nod, which I took as apology accepted.  She pointed one slim, red-tipped finger at the corner of her desk.  My laptop was sitting there, awaiting its owner.  I thanked her and left.

Mission accomplished, I went to find Katrina and Mr. Deckert.

Chapter 35- Chris

“Do we leak these texts, send them to the FBI, or just bury the bastard ourselves?” I asked.

“Lydia, has Miss Chatterjee done any blogging yet?” Tanya asked the pixie-sized vampire.

Lydia just smirked and pointed her tablet at the wall monitor.  Brystol’s blog page, The Cryptic News, was open to an entry dated earlier today, titled The Evil within Us.

Dear Readers:

I’m enraged, disgusted and madder than I have ever been in my life.

Let me explain.

I’ve made the paranormal, the eldritch, and the supernatural my business, and these last few years, business has been good.  I was honored to bring you the first interviews with Christian Gordon and Tatiana Demidova after the Battle of Washington, as well as the first one-on-one chat with the White Werewolf, my friend Stacia Reynolds.

During the Battle and continuing since then, we’ve seen a steady stream of miraculous revelations.  In short, the world has been turned on its collective ear and I’ve been privileged to occupy ground zero for all it.

But in my opinion, the most disruptive thing to come out of all these events isn’t that vampires and werewolves are real, or that Angels walk among us.  I believe it’s the stunning treatments and cures that vampire biology promises for the most insidious of our diseases.  If you don’t believe me, just look at the plummeting stock values of the world’s most advanced pharmaceutical companies.  That’s proof positive to my mind that the medical and business world believes in the treatments being tested in other countries right now.

Our nation will be among the last to have access to the wonder drugs derived from Darkkin biochemistry while many of the world’s poorest and sickest are already enjoying the life-altering effects of this new technology.  The irony is delicious.  Even the richest must petition to be treated in India or Thailand, the decision in the hands of the very people who saved our President, our government, and our country from an apocalypse straight out of the bible.  And the source of these treatments spends enormous amounts of its own money to sponsor, through Angel Flight, the most needy of Americans to receive life-saving medicine.

Four of these individuals: Krysta Downes, Stevie Winslow, Kyle Roberts, and Trinity Keevers, all beautiful, courageous children given a new lease on life, have all died.  Two in accidents, two of medical compications.  There are organizations that would have us believe it is the fault of man for turning to vampires for cures.  That an angry God has taken them back among his own as punishment for the sin of seeking a cure from, gasp, a supernatural race. A group whose leader claims to know what God is thinking.  I call bullshit.  This is not God’s vengeance but Man’s evil.  My evidence?  Take a look below at this YouTube video showing security camera footage of Kayla Downes’s last day on Earth.  Note that glorious little girl rubbing her shoulder after this person bumps into her.  Read the autopsy report that says she died of sudden onset pneumonia and see here, circled in red, where the doctor found a red spot similar to a needle track.  Coincidence?  Or a highly professional hit?

Slim, you say?  I dug deeper.  Here’s a copy of the police report on the accident that killed Kyle Roberts.  The car that lost its brakes and hit him had just been inspected two months earlier.  Yet the brakes failed completely on a four-year-old car.  I’m sure Stevie’s dad would have cried foul, but he died too.

My grandmother used to say once is an accident, two times a coincidence, but three times makes a pattern.

Trinity Keevers died of a particularly virulent form of influenza that completely overwhelmed her immune system.  The Arkansas state health department reported no other cases of that particular strain in the entire state.  The hand of God or the twisted hand of Man?

If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, guess what… it’s very likely a duck.  But who would do this?  Stay tuned… this reporter is on the case with further information and evidence coming soon.

On a separate note, tomorrow’s blog will be a big one; a fascinating look into the world of witches and witchcraft as I report my interview with a real spell-slinging, potion-brewing practitioner of magic.  That’s right, Harry Potter better move over because the real deal is out there and I’ve met him.

Chatterjee out.

“Well, she’s got the ball started,” Darion said.  “My advice would be to sanitize our backtrail, print this shit up, and hand it, in gloved hands, to the DA of Krysta’s home county, the Texas Attorney General and the FBI.  With Miss Chatterbox’s fire burning under their collective asses, something ought to catch.”

The rest of us were quiet for a moment, pondering his words.  Tanya looked at me and I nodded, then she turned to her vampire Friday.  Lydia’s eyes were slightly unfocused, staring at a blank space on the wall.  She blinked, letting her eyes rove around the room, from Darion, to Kate, over Josh and Chet, and finally to Tanya and myself.  “I like it.  Brystol has a huge following and law enforcement will have no choice but to look into it.  If we can develop any additional leads from these phone numbers, it, too, can be thrown on the bonfire.”

“And the Church of the True will burn itself to ash,” Tanya said.

“Let’s do it,” I agreed, watching Josh and Kate exchange evil grins.

Chapter 36 – Declan

I picked Mack up at Penn Station early Friday afternoon.  Actually, we picked him up as Mr. Deckert insisted on sending me in a company car with two of his men.  The driver was Joe, the same guy overseeing the front desk the day I arrived.  The one who walked into the station with me was Benson, who looked like an NFL lineman.

We found the Ethan Allen train from upstate just as it arrived, and Mack was like the tenth person to step off.  Then we had to wait for him to collect two pieces of checked baggage.

“Dude, you’re only here for two nights.  If Jetta was with you I’d understand, but I know you don’t even own that many clothes,” I said.  He smiled as I went to pick up one of the bags and the answer was obvious when the weight hit my arm.

“You brought toys?” I asked.  Mr. Benson hefted the other bag in his left hand; his right being free to employ whatever was making his jacket bulge over his right hip.  He raised one eyebrow at my words.

“Mack is learning to make knives in a custom blade smithy,” I said.

“Blades?  What kind?” he asked, interested even as his eyes scanned the people around us.

“This batch is mostly tactical.  The railroad doesn’t normally let you even check knives but as long as they were sheathed and locked in these bags, they were okay.  I had to explain that I was an apprentice knifesmith, on my way to a show,” Mack said.  “Not exactly the full truth, but what the hell.  I wanted you to see my work.”

“You sell them?” Benson asked.

“I will when I find buyers.  This is the first batch that I feel good enough about to put on the sales table.  Between you and me, Mr. Benson, I’m pretty sure I can sell a couple to this skinny beanpole here as Christmas presents for his step-aunt and martial arts instructor,” Mack said.

“The deputy and the Krav Maga guy?” Benson asked me.  I had spent time with most of Deckert’s men during my warding time and he knew a little about my family life.

“Actually, if what you made is at all similar to Mr. Moore’s work, I bet the security team would be interested.  They’re all ex-military,” I said to Mack.  To Benson I said, “His mentor is Ian Moore of Bear Mountain Blades.”  Benson didn’t reply but his eyes flicked over Mack with interest before continuing his scanning.

“You have a company car and driver?” Mack asked when we stepped outside and Joe opened the back of the Explorer for his luggage.

“Perks, baby. Perks,” I said.

Back at the tower, I had the pleasure of seeing Mack go wide-eyed at the inside of the Demidova Tower.  Then we got to the security desk to give him his visitor’s pass, and nothing would do but that he broke out all his hardware.  Within minutes, most of the on-duty team was clustered around his display, which, frankly was even better than I had imagined.  About half were made from Bear Mountain’s proprietary Damascus steel with silver wire folded into the mix.  Those all sold immediately, several in minor bidding wars among the ex-soldiers.  The obvious utility of steel with anti-vamp and were properties combined with Mack’s talented workmanship was instantly valued by Deckert’s men.

The other half were split between utility blades and bushcraft blades made of high carbon steel and super tough tool steel.

“You just started making knives this year?” Deckert asked my buddy.

“I grew up on a horse farm and I was always fascinated when the farrier came to shoe the horses.  My uncle did a little blacksmithing and we made a few knives together.  I’ve always been mechanical and Mr. Moore is a really good teacher,” Mack explained, looking delighted and slightly shocked at how quickly his stuff had sold out.

“Alright guys, I’ve got more work for him to do.  We’re okay to use the utility room, Mr. Deckert?” I asked.

“Standard conditions apply: don’t burn the place down, don’t blow the place up, and don’t crack the foundation of the building,” Deckert said.  Nobody even smiled.  They all knew he wasn’t joking with me and that any and all those outcomes were possibilities, as far as I was concerned.  “That elevator is only just working again,” he said.

“See, there’s the example for you… if I break it, I fix it,” I said.  He frowned but then waved us away.

A few minutes later, I showed Mack my rooms.  “Holy shit, dude.  This is a freaking palace.  You live like a king while I’m slaving away like a peasant,” he said.

“Don’t give me your shit, Sutton.  You and your sister have a whole farm with a massive forge and workshop, not to mention shooting range and hiking trails.”

“Well, yeah, it doesn’t suck, but this is the shit,” he said.

We stowed his stuff and went down to the gym, where I showed him the discarded tools and had Thing Two demonstrate the problem.

“Ya know what?  You can keep all this fancy shit if that’s what you gotta fight to earn it,” he said, awed by the robotic death machine.

Then his analytical side kicked in and he started to get serious.  “Okay, you say the weight isn’t a problem?”

“No, she’s not as big as Dellwood, but she’s strong as hell and fast,” I said.

“Then I think we want to go for more of a Chinese sword breaker design rather than your pick ax thing.  It’ll be similar, just straighter lines and squared off to give hard, sharp edges backed by a diamond design for strength,” he said.  “We’ll lengthen this pry bar to give her reach, we’ll draw out this hammerhead and make two long, squared spikes to block or break these things’ blades, we’ll square the pointy end, also for blade breaking, and we’ll beef up the handle for a big wolfy fist to hold. We’re going to have a big chunk of that twelve-pound hammerhead left over, so we’ll weld it to the end for balance and bug bashing. Now, where do we take this shit?”

Mr. Deckert had given me permission to use the building’s huge utility room for a makeshift forge and I took Mack there with the tools.

The utility room was on the lowest level, through one of the doors right off the elevator, and it sat on bedrock.  Perfect, especially when Mack pointed out a potential flaw in my plan.

“Even though I know you can heat the shit out of this metal, drawing out that hammerhead is gonna suck.  We really need a power hammer,” he said.

I grinned and placed a mental call to my ace in the hole.  Actually, ace in the ground.

Mack almost shit himself when a really big section of the floor stood up and formed the ten-foot-tall shape of Robbie the golem.

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

“I called him.”

“How’d he get here?”

“Well, it seems I pretty much screwed up when I made him.  In my defense, I didn’t have anyone to teach me how to make a golem, so I just made it up.  It started with Draco and was only more of the same when I made Robbie,” I said.  He looked thoroughly confused, so I explained.  “See, they’re not really golems.  Instead, they were kinda, sorta baby elementals.  Draco is quickly becoming a full-fledged Air elemental, which is why he gets along with Aunt Ash so well.  Robbie is not far behind him as a fledgling Earth elemental.  So to answer your question, he travels though the ground.”

“Dude, I don’t know what an elemental is but somehow I don’t think it’s normal for witches to make them,” Mack said, walking around Robbie and examining his features.

In many ways, of all the kids at Arcane, Mack and his sister Jetta are far and away the most miraculous.  Born completely mundane without any supernatural powers, talents, or abilities, they nonetheless are so thoroughly steeped in the supernatural world as to be completely comfortable with, well, everything.

And they are both disgustingly competent at living, fighting and getting along with people who have superhuman abilities and powers.  Excellent athletes, with high hand-to-eye coordination and great reflexes, they both adapt and learn with ease.  Maybe it had something to do with being teenagers when they tracked and killed off the better part of a pack of rogue werewolves by themselves.

Mack had met Robbie before and the monstrous entity was scary enough to frighten old vampires, yet Mack had such faith in me and my abilities that he had no thought that Robbie was a danger to him.  Frankly, if I wasn’t so flattered by my buddy’s trust, I’d question his sanity.

Ten feet tall and over five feet wide, Robbie had formed himself from the concrete and bedrock of the floor and was even bigger then last semester. His face had only rudimentary features, craggy blunt nose, and cavernous black eyes.  Yet I knew him and could feel his… thoughts?  Feelings?  I’m not sure either of those fit the bill, yet Robbie, for all his fearsome size and shape, was basically placid and patient.  Like rock. He preferred resting in the woods around Rowan West to doing almost anything else.

“Okay, so how are we going to employ our friend here,” Mack said, absently patting Robbie’s rocky leg.  My creation was aware of and considering the soft squishy human with almost fond thoughts.

“Chris seems to have a thing for manhole covers.  Somehow, he ended up dragging a few home from various fights.  So I lugged two down here and thought Robbie could use them like an anvil.  This chunk of I-beam was at a construction site.  I sorta borrowed it,” I said, mentally asking the young elemental to hold the big pieces of steel in his hands.

“Gonna be loud, but let’s get started,” Mack said, looking thoroughly excited.

First, I drew a huge circle on the floor with blue chalk from my bag. A straight line of yellow chalk bisected it exactly in the middle. A red line bisected that one from the other direction.  On one side of the yellow line, I drew the rune of fire; on the other side, the rune for ice. I did the same with the red line, drawing spear in one quadrant, bow in the other.  In the very center, I wrote the rune ear for Earth.

Then I brought Robbie into the circle, positioning him in the middle.  Mack brought the two pieces of metal in and I closed the circle, invoking it with a thought and a touch of my right index finger.

“What now?” I asked.

“Well, let’s start with the hammerhead,” Mack said.

With Robbie holding the steel in his rocky hands, I began to pull heat from the building and the ground.  With thousands of tons of mass to draw from, the sledge quickly started to glow, waves of heat radiating off it.  At this point, I activated the rune Ice to pull the excess heat and countersink it back into the ground.

“See that cherry red color?  That’s called critical temperature,” Mack said.  “Now we can work the metal, and all the carbon and other non iron elements in the alloy are in solution.”

I had no idea what he really meant, but I had Robbie pound out the metal, drawing it out while I kept it heated.  Mack cut off the excess with the edge of the prybar.

With Mack directing, we formed two square spikes around the hole in the head that previously held the handle.  A rectangular rock was shoved into the empty space to keep it from collapsing.

When we were done, we had what looked like a short, straight-limbed pick ax.  Two ten-inch-long, inch-thick rectangles with pyramidal points jutted out from the handle collar, positioned so that they presented a diamond shape rather than square.  A seven-pound lump of steel sat unused on the ground beside us.  Mack had us set the spikes aside to cool in the quadrant of the bow while we heated the pry bar and had Robbie pound it out to seven and a half feet long. We next fit the side spikes to the prybar, sliding the collar down two feet from the pointed end. Mack pulled a plastic coffee container out of his gear.

“This is Borax.  It’ll pull the impurities out of the metal so we can weld it together,” he said, proceeding to dust the whole deal with white powder.

“You brought white dust on the train in a coffee can?” I asked.  “Lucky you’re not in prison.”

“Hmmm.  Maybe I should leave it here when I go back, huh?” he asked.

“Ya think?”

I heated the whole thing up to critical and Robbie pounded the collar with a corner of the I-beam until it was essentially welded in place.  The next hour was spent straightening the spear and making the edges really square. The point was deviated like a bird’s beak to keep it from sliding off bug armor if the weapon was jabbed.  Then we welded the lump of unused steel to the end, squaring it off like a medieval mace head.  Finally, we had the elemental golem hold the manhole covers and pound one into another while I telekinetically moved the spear through the pounding hammers to give it sharp corners.  Lastly, I used an old screwdriver I found on a shelf and engraved more runes directly into the metal, pushing power into the weapon with every scratch.

“Now we have to heat it back to critical and then quench it somehow.  We want to cool it superfast to lock the carbon molecules inside the iron’s crystal structure,” Mack said.

So we heated it past critical and then I pulled all the heat at once, dumping it into the ground and the building.  The weapon went from cherry red to frost-covered in two seconds.

“Wow, I think you just cryo-quenched it!” Mack said.

“Is that bad?”

“It’s super hard to do.  Supposedly it’s good.  We’ll have to see.  Next, we have to temper it.  We need to heat it to about four hundred degrees for about an hour minutes, then let it cool on its own.  We have to do that three times to relieve all the internal stresses,” Mack said.

The weapon stood on its flattened counterweight butt, looking like a seven-and-a-half-foot cross whose arms were too short.  Held in one’s hands for use, the weapon’s square edges were up, down, and side to side.  Same with the cross bars.  That way, any strike by an opponent’s blade would have the best chance of hitting a reinforced edge and breaking.

“It’s like a Chinese sword breaker crossed with a boar spear and hopped up on steroids,” Mack said.  “About thirty-five pounds of steel.”

I thanked Robbie and released him back to the Earth.  He was reluctant.  The city bothered him, so we looked up Central Park on Google Maps and figured which direction it lay from the Tower.  Then I sent him there to rest under the trees and grass of the park.  Not exactly the same as our forest back home, but much better than city streets and apartment buildings.  The floor smoothed back to normal under my feet and looked pretty much undisturbed, except for the chalk lines, which we left in place for tempering.  When I glanced up, Mack was shaking his head.

“What?”

“We just completed a major weapon in less than two hours without a forge, without a hammer, or even tongs.  You’re a piece of work, O’Carroll.”

“A dirty, sweaty, hungry piece of work.  Let’s get cleaned up and get some dinner,” I said.

“Cleaned up, then we’ll reheat this to cool while we eat.  Then once more.”

“Deal.”

We showered and changed in record time, both motivated by our stomachs.  After reheating the blade breaker a second time, we headed up to the dining room.  The sun was down, or at least had set enough that Remy was up.  When I introduced him to Mack, he relentlessly pressed my friend for his most desired dinner.  Reluctantly, Mack admitted that he wanted surf and turf, obviously worried about the cost.  Remy just nodded and thirty minutes, a basket of rolls, and a salad each later, we both were scarfing down lobster tail, scallops, and filet mignon.

“Who are those girls that keep staring this way?” Mack asked.

“Computer science interns who think I’m scum,” I said after looking over at Jodi, Aleesha, and Grace four tables away.

“Oh this sounds good.  Let’s hear it,” he demanded.

Between bites of buttery lobster and melt-in-your-mouth beef, I told him about my first several weeks of summer work.

“That’s pretty shitty, dude.  I kinda understand why they’d be upset, but on the other hand, you were just working for your boss.  And that douche that poisoned you deserved to get fired.”

“It is what it is.  I kinda liked the brunette but she’s normal and I’m so very not,” I said.

“Yeah, I get it.  Still, she is pretty hot,” he said, then laughed at the expression on my face.

We finished dinner, reheated the breaker, and then played video games in my room for an hour.  Then we grabbed the breaker and headed to the gym.  It barely fit on the elevator, it was so long.

As I went to open the gym door, I heard noises on the other side.  Pausing, I realized it was Tanya and the others training, and with a sinking feeling, I realized that I was probably supposed to be there as well.  Hand frozen in front of the door, I hesitated.  The doors opened themselves and Nika stood there in workout gear.

“I knew I heard someone out here lurking about.  You better get in here,” she said with a curious glance at Mack.

The sinking feeling turned to plummeting lead as we followed her inside.  Tanya stopped beating on Chris and turned to look at me, eyes going head to toe and brows rising at my lack of gym clothes.  Lydia, Stacia, and Arkady all stood nearby, staring.

“You’re late, but you brought us a snack,” Tanya said, glancing at Mack, who went white in the face.

“She’s kidding.  Ah, I forgot, Tanya.  We were making this,” I said, holding up the breaker in both hands, “—and time slipped.”

“You made a cross?  To repel vampires?” Lydia asked.

“No it’s like a butterfly pin for pesky, fluttery little pixie vamps,” I said.  “Actually, we call it Blade Breaker.”

“What exactly is it for?” Chris asked, curious and amused.

“It’s for her,” I said, pointing at Stacia, “in her beast form.  We based it on a sword breaker from China.”

Suddenly, Tanya was right in front of us, taking the breaker from my hands and flipping it around as though it were a reed.

“The cross bars do what?” she asked.

“Thing Two, rise and present three blades.  Freeze,” I commanded the bug in the corner.  “See, if the point is shoved against the carapace, the cross pieces are just at blade length. The force of the bug’s own motors will bend or break the blades against the edges.  At least in theory.”

“Spin it up, bug.  Let’s move past theory,” she said.

The were whacker was running, and the steel blades hummed at high revolutions.  Tanya stepped forward and jabbed the breaker against Thing Two’s armor.  There was a loud clang, a snap, crack, and a zing, but I was ready.  Two blades had bent, but the top one snapped off and was flung toward Lydia, stopped by the hasty shield I had thrown across the audience.  The shard hung suspended about stomach level, point-six inches from Lydia’s body.

“Nice catch, kid.  Almost made that butterfly pin thing become reality,” she said.

“It gets yanked hard when the blades hit, but if you’re ready for it, it’s not bad,” Tanya said to the others.  Then she flipped the bar like a bo staff.  The weighted end rang off the pede’s head, knocking the heavy bug backward.

“Hmmm.  It’s not as unwieldy as it looks.  Hits hard.  Why doesn’t it jar my hands?” she asked us.

“I put some mojo in it.  That might settle it out,” I said, pointing at the runes.

“What’s the pattern in the steel?” Chris asked.

“NYC DPW,” I said.  “We used some of your manhole covers,” I said.

“Where did you get the tools to do this?” Lydia asked.

“We, ah, improvised,” I said, keeping my shield around my head, which caused Nika to frown.

“You’ll need your beast form,” Tanya said and after a moment of contemplating the breaker, she threw the heavy weapon to Stacia, who so far hadn’t said a word.  The blonde girl hefted the weapon for a moment, eyed myself and Mack, then set it upright on its end while she pulled her clothes off.

Mack’s eyes widened at the brief glimpse of perfection she offered before Changing into her other form.  From centerfold to horror movie in seconds flat.  Her massive beast form is, in its own way, just as impressive as her human one.  My buddy’s face had changed from shocked awe to stricken awe as he was reminded of what she was.

With a low growl, she plucked the blade breaker off the floor, its length no longer looking outsized.  Taking a few moments to get used to it, she twirled it around her big paws smoothly.

“The weight at the butt end kind of ruins the lines but we needed to balance it out,” I said.  “And it could use some paracord wrapping at the hand points.”

Stacia glanced at me, then strode toward Thing Two.  While we had been talking, the metal bug had lowered its damaged blades and turned, lifting the unmarked portion of its body and snapping open four or five blades.  Now they spun up to full speed as the wolf beast prowled forward.

Instead of jabbing like Tanya had done, Stacia chopped down at the pede, the pick-like cross-piece hitting the bug just in back of its head.  The blow had tremendous force and it knocked Thing Two downward, leaving the same spot open to the follow-up from the hardened, squared-off butt of the weapon.  Thing Two’s spinning blades slammed into the floor, clanging to a halt and definitely damaging more sharp edges.

“Interesting.  More than one way to cut hide from pussycat,” Arkady said.

As the pede started to lift its front, Stacia pinned it down with the point and one of the cross-arms.  Instantly, Thing Two flipped its damaged back end forward, arching its whole body like a scorpion’s tail.  Stacia replaced the blade breaker with her foot on the pede’s closest head, smoothly rotating her weapon forward and jabbing the split point right at the junction of the head and first segment.  The hardened tips slid up the stainless steel of the joint and under the armor of the head.  Now she had full control of the creature, her body weight  holding it down and her powerful arms easily holding off the tail.  She paused then yanked her weapon free, standing back and letting the pede scuttle away.

“Hmm, lots of control techniques possible,” Tanya mused.

“A sharp stamp on the middle segment would likely let her paralyze it,” Chris said.  “Then she’d have time to smash it with that nasty big bludgeon.”

“Let me try,” Arkady said, striding forward, hand out.  Normally, he looks the part of a giant, but next to a werewolf beast form, he looked like a regular guy.

Stacia growled at him, reluctantly letting him take the breaker.

“What did you make it out of?  It’s as hard or maybe harder then the bug’s armor,” Tanya said.

“We used the prybar and the head from the broken sledge,” I said.

“And where exactly did you get a forge and tools to process this much steel?” she pressed.  Behind her, Arkady was smacking at the bug with the breaker, pausing to tell Stacia his thoughts on possible technique.

“Mr. Deckert said we could use the utility room, and I used magic,” I said.

“You turned my utility room, the one that provides life to my multi-million-dollar building, into a forge?” she asked.

“And didn’t even disturb the dust,” I said.

“If you don’t need him, I’ll take him back to the blade smithy and put him to work.  We could quadruple the output.  Plus, I think we got lucky with the heat treatment because we winged the hell out of it,” Mack said.  “Possibly the first time anyone used magic to cryo-treat steel.”

“You quenched it with magic?” Tanya asked, her interest sharpening.

“Yeah, this guy can heat almost forty pounds of steel to critical with a thought and then drop it to way below zero in an instant,” Mack answered.

“So a high percentage conversion of austenite to martensite?” she asked him.

His eyebrows went up at her technical knowledge, but the rest of his head nodded.  “Yeah, damn near a hundred percent, I think.”

“Declan, on Monday, I would like you to work with Dr. Susskins on the quantum project.  Mack, you never heard me say that,” Tanya said.

“Okay, but you know my thoughts, right?” I asked.

“Nika will keep close watch,” Tanya said, glancing at her blonde friend.

“You bet, Declan.  As distasteful as it may be,” Nika said.

“Now, I suspect you are thinking of turning Mack loose in my nightclub, correct?” Tanya asked.

“Katrina thought it might be okay.  Actually, her words were of course, you moron.”

“She’s right.  About the okay part, not the moron part.  You will take a car and driver. Enjoy yourselves, but no alcohol,” she said, turning to Mack for the last part.

“I don’t like to lose my senses in an unknown city,” Mack said.

“Particularly in a nightclub populated with vampires, right?” Chris asked with a wink.

“There is that,” Mack agreed. “And you probably know that this guy doesn’t drink at all,” he said with a thumb in my direction.

“Be like a five-year old with a flamethrower,” Lydia said.

I just looked at her while I spoke to Mack.  “Come on, buddy. I want to show you my plans for a butterfly-slash-pixy collection.”

“Like you could organize a collection of anything,” she snarked.

“It might only need one specimen,” I said, turning and pushing Mack toward the door.

“Take the driver, Declan, and stay in the club.  Mack, you will be completely safe in Plasma,” Tanya said.  As I went out the door, I saw the white werewolf turn and look at me.  She might have been grinning… or snarling.  Hard to tell.

Chapter 37 – Chris

With the blade breaker in her paws, Stacia went from frustrated to terminally effective.  Tanya stopped the practice when Declan’s bug was down to just two partially operational blades.  It was so damaged, it could hardly scuttle.

“Well that’s fine for her, but what about us?” Lydia asked, pointing at Nika and herself.

“Try this,” Arkady said, lifting out of his gym bag a Glock pistol fitted with a suppressor.

“What?  Here? In the gym?” Lydia asked

“Is okay,” the giant said, pushing the gun toward Lydia, who just looked at him like he was crazy.  Nika reached out and snagged the pistol, racked the slide, and aimed at the robot, which was rattling and shaking as it tried to spin its damaged segments.

The gun popped twice, the action of the slide almost louder than the shots. The top third of Thing Two went rigid, segments lengthening out and freezing in place.

“Keep firing till enemy falls,” Arkady said to the blonde telepath.  She rattled off a half dozen more shots and the robot’s entire body stiffened and fell over.

“Are those bullets bewitched?” Lydia asked.

“Yes.  Boy vedmak puts tiny little scratches on ‘dem.  Has made over a thousand,” Arkady said, studying the bug, which was beginning to twitch.  “Seems to disrupt functions, but temporary.  And look… they stick to bug.”

Little flattened 9mm slugs were sprinkled across the centipede’s armor, almost as if glued.

“So the girls could paralyze bugs and the rest of us could then smash them,” Tanya said, pointing to the giant vampire, the blonde girl pulling on sweats, herself, and me.

“Yeah, although Declan thinks there might be some upgrades coming that would make them resistant to magic,” I said.

“That’s just super,” Lydia said with a grimace.

“What would Declan be doing during all this shooting and smashing?” Nika asked.

“Who the hell knows?  Something mildly devastating like shifting the tectonic plates or forming a volcano under the city,” Tanya said.  Nobody laughed.  “I’m joking… mostly.  Between him and that book inside him, I’m sure he’ll devastate twice as many bugs as the rest of us combined.”

“It’s pretty crazy what he can do, isn’t it?” Nika asked.

“Crazy is a word I would rather not ever apply in the same sentence as Declan,” I said.  “But remember, he does get tired, his shields aren’t perfect, and he is slow and soft compared to us.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Lydia asked.

“It’s supposed to make you understand that he needs us to protect him while he lays down area denial mayhem,” Stacia said.

“Oh, is that it?” Lydia asked, a smirk on her face.

Stacia pulled back and met the little vampire’s amusement with a glare of her own.

“You never thanked him for your toy?” Nika pointed out, her own lips twitching slightly.

“I’ll probably track those two miscreants down at Plasma and thank him while I keep an eye on him—them.  On them,” Stacia said, picking up her bag in one hand and the massive breaker in the other.

“Hmmm,” Lydia said.  “You should hold back a bit.  Mack seems quite the ladies man, and he might be giving his roommate lessons.  A couple of attractive guys getting the VIP treatment at Plasma are sure to impress a least a few girls.”

Stacia might have growled a bit. It was hard to tell.  She definitely glared at Lydia before taking her leave.  Tanya watched her go, a thoughtful expression on my vampire’s beautiful features.

“You press her?” Tanya asked Lydia, who in turn glanced at Nika before answering.

“She’s fighting with herself.  Sometimes ya gotta cut through the bullshit to get to the essence of the matter.  What I said was unvarnished truth.  I told the staff to treat them like royalty, and I’m sure they will be noticed.  I would bet money that our white wolf will be there within the next two hours.  Wolves are very territorial, you know,” Lydia smirked.

Before anyone else could answer, the gym doors reopened to admit Tanya’s own wonderkin, Josh.

“We have a problem… a huge problem,” he said.

Five minutes later, we were all in Tanya’s office, clustered around the wall monitor watching a live news feed from Seattle.

“—I repeat.  From what we know, Seattle PD is investigating a vehicle explosion that they confirmed has killed John Cuttle, the head of security for the Church of the True.  At 9:24 this evening, eyewitnesses report seeing John Cuttle enter his SUV and moments later, it exploded into a massive fireball. FBI bomb squads are on scene. Reverend Daniel Castille has been taken to a safe location under heavy guard while authorities begin their investigation.  We will continue live coverage of this tragic event.”

The feed switched back to the two news anchors who began speculating on reasons, causes, and rumor.

“We didn’t do that, right?” Tanya asked, looking specifically at Arkady.

“Not unless Darkkin started using missiles,” Deckert answered for his boss.

“Explain,” she said.

The blocky former Marine took the television remote and backed up the coverage to the amateur cell phone footage showing the SUV and then the explosion.  He fiddled back and forth, finally freezing the shot.

“Okay, see here?  This aerial shot, probably from a news crew drone, shows the blast site.  Notice here how the wreckage is spread in an arc back toward the building, almost all on one side.  If the vehicle was rigged, it would explode more uniformly.  This looks just like a car hit by a small rocket, something like an AT-4,” he said, pointing out the patterns on the screen.

“You’re saying someone shot him with a missile?” Lydia asked.

“Or something.  The angle this picture was taken at is close to where the missile came from.  So maybe another drone,” Deckert said, leaning close to the screen and continuing to study it.  “Pretty obvious missile damage.  No wonder they brought in the FBI.  A lot of cops have previous military experience.  In fact, I wonder why the network’s military consultants haven’t caught on yet.”

“It gets worse,” Josh said.  He was leaning against Tanya’s desk, looking at his tablet.  Now he turned it and I could immediately see Rev. Castille’s face filling the screen.

“YouTube video Castille just uploaded minutes ago,” Josh said, hitting play.

“I blame myself.  John Cuttle served our Lord and the Church with unstinting devotion and extreme competence.  But I decided, in my boundless, sinful pride, to beard the lions in their den.  I decided to confront the enemy in their Wall Street palace, in the very symbol of their outrageous wealth, and this is the result.  I threatened to expose them, certain in my pride that they would back down from the light of the truth.  But now a good man is gone and the monsters still prey upon us, still hoard resources enough for thousands of struggling humans, still chuckle softly to themselves in the dark as they thirst for our blood.”

Tears streaked his face and his bible was clutched tightly in his left hand as he spoke.  At the end of the speech, he wiped one track of tears away, artfully leaving the other side to enforce his emotions.  It was a devastating video.

“It’s going viral,” Josh said.

Tanya turned her head from the video and looked at her chief of security.  “Any military contacts that could make the same observations you just did who might feel like talking to the media?  We need to show this in a different light and in a hurry.”

“On it,” he said, pulling his cell phone and stepping across the room to make a call.

“So who did do it?” Nika asked.

“Anvil,” Tanya and I said at the same time.

“Why?” Arkady asked.

“Because we sent un-coded evidence to law enforcement that Cuttle had engineered assassinations of US citizens on US soil,” I said.  “And anything we do is monitored by Anvil.  Cuttle was, in essence, a terrorist.”

“And by doing it in this manner, there was a high likelihood of us being blamed.  That would hide Anvil and could damage us,” Tanya said.

“We have to reframe this to show it was military hardware, not something we would have access to,” Lydia said.

“But we could easily buy the weapons,” Arkady objected.  “If not here, then elsewhere in the world.”

“The public might not believe that, and especially if we can use the drone angle.  Most drone missile attacks are associated with the US military in the public’s mind,” Lydia said.  “Associating it with the Tomahawk misfire could be useful.”

“Shit!” Josh said.  He looked up from his tablet, his face fearful.

“What now?” Lydia asked.

“He posted another video,” Josh said.

“Exodus 22:18  Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.  The enemy is legion and filled with evil in all its many forms.  Those that prey upon us and claim to protect us from the false one employ the false one’s own.  My faithful have provided me with additional information on John’s death.  This wasn’t an ordinary murder, even a professional murder, but one that employed powers and abilities beyond mortal men.

“Leviticus 20:27 A man also or woman that hath a familiar spirit, or that is a wizard, shall surely be put to death: they shall stone them with stones: their blood shall be upon them.

“The enemy employs sorcerers and witches and this young man is key among them.”

The photo Castille held up was Declan’s, taken outside Demidova Tower and showed him frowning.

“This one is going viral, too,” Josh said.

“Josh, call Darion. Get him and his full team here, now.  Lydia, call the Board members. Tell them I’m convening an emergency meeting.  When you speak to Wade Pitcairn, tell him to bring his contact list; we’re going to need expert counter opinions.  Nika, bring in the PR agency that handled the Angel Flight campaign.  We’re shifting to full crisis mode,” Tanya said.

“I’ll tell Katrina to retrieve Declan and his pal,” Lydia said.  “This place is going to be mobbed with protestors in no time.”

“Yes, Lydia. Bring our warlock home,” Tanya said. “And someone figure out how Castille found out about Declan.”

I opened Tanya’s laptop and signed into my e-mail.  Nothing useful.  Then I signed into the e-mail account we used with the investigator, Mark.  A second message was in the inbox.  Labeled Final Report.  I read it.

“Ah, Tanya.  Guys.  I think I have an idea.  I think we need to put together our own YouTube video.  But first read this,” I said, sending the e-mail to the big monitor.

The others read in silence, then turned to me one by one as they each finished.  “Oh, yeah.  We can work with that,” Lydia said.  “In fact, the PR team already has a bunch of footage that’s perfect with a few cuts.”

“Nice, zayka,” Tanya said with a nod and a tight smile.

Even Arkady smiled.  “Is showtime, ya?”

“Ya,” I said.

Chapter 38 – Declan

I think I officially won the best roommate award within ten minutes of arriving at Plasma.

First, we pulled up in a chauffeured SUV, right by the front door to the club.  The line waiting to get in was more than a block long and we were escorted right by them all, the vampire and human bouncers pulling back the velvet ropes and whisking us inside like we were celebrities.  Actually, we walked past a number of celebrities.

Then Mack saw the tables of elite club goers, the hot girls dancing with abandon, and the guest band of the night, whose current album was near the top of the charts.

“Dude, I’m without words,” he said, head swiveling to check out three giggling beauties who in turn were checking us out.  Well, mostly him.  Mack’s a good-looking guy and girls like him.

“Not shabby, huh?” I asked as we were shown to a VIP table overlooking the dance floor and just to the side of the stage.

A vampire waitress I didn’t know appeared at our table, lots of smooth pale skin on display, short dark hair and dark brown eyes.  She frowned when we just asked for soda.

“Oh we can do better than that.  How about an Arizona Sunset, a Millionaire Sour, or a Mexican Limeade?” she asked, challenging us.

“How about all three?” I shot back, earning us a smile and a nod.

“Coming right up,” she said.  “I’m Sherry, by the way.  Just say my name if you need anything.”   Then she was gone, disappeared into the swirl of dancers and drinkers.

“Those sounded alcoholic,” Mack said.

“No, I guarantee that every vampire in this club has been told in no uncertain terms not to give us alcohol.  Tanya was really pissed the other night when the interns got shitfaced,” I said.

“Now that’s what I call a dirty blonde,” Mack said appreciatively.  He was looking at a really attractive girl in a short, short silver metallic dress that clung to her rather spectacular curves in all kinds of interesting ways.  It was so distracting that I didn’t realize she was headed our way till she was standing next to our table and then I realized I even knew her name.  Mitzi.

“Hi Declan.  Fancy meeting you here,” she said with a sly smile.  Two more girls came up alongside her and a glimpse with my Sight showed that they were both witches, too.

“Jeez D, aren’t you going to introduce me?” Mack said.  I was frozen in place, wrestling with flight or fight.

“Aw no worries, handsome warlock.  We’re just here to have fun and saw you come in.  We’re regulars.  I’m Mitzi. This is Aleah and this is Malene,” she said, then she went ahead and sat down, right between Mack and myself.

Despite the allure of three very attractive girls draped in slinky dresses, Mack was astute enough to sense my anxiety.  He looked at me, frowning.

“Local circle, Mack,” I explained.  His interest and attraction snapped off like a switch.

Mitzi frowned.  “Don’t get all paranoid, dude.  We come here a lot.  I’m friends with Stacia, remember?  And that’s our favorite band.”

There wasn’t really any way for them to know I would be going to Plasma that night.  Even Divination would’t necessarily predict our arrival, not with the wards I had over Demidova Tower blocking us from the Sight.  And this was only my third time at the club.  The first was when I warded it up, the second with the ill-fated intern night out.

“Sorry.  I’m a little gun shy,” I said.

“Poor baby has every witch in sight vying for his attention and that’s such a horrible thing?” she asked with a sarcastic pout.

“Whoa there, witchy-locks.  A number of my fans are borderline sociopaths and their approach has been just shy of kidnapping,” I said.

“Witchy-locks?” Mitzi asked.

“Because you’re going to tell me that you are just right,” I said.

Her friend, Aleah, a brunette in a blue dress, snickered, earning herself a mock glare from Mitzi, who held it for a second before laughing, too.

“Clever.  And yes, I know just who you mean.  That Einin stayed with me, and she’s a major bitch,” Mitzi said. “Same for her mom and twice that for her grandmother.”

Her other friend, a very pretty black girl, hadn’t paid any attention to the joking, instead fixing me with an intense stare.  I turned to her and raised an eyebrow.  Keeping her eyes on me, she spoke to Mitzi.  “Him champion?”

“Truth,” Mitzi said with a smile.  “Malene is from Jamaica. Recently joined our circle along with her mother and little sister.”

That, at least, was interesting.  I wanted to ask her about her Craft and how it differed, but then suddenly Sherry was back, setting down three drinks each in front of Mack and me.  She gave us a quick smile, which disappeared when she turned to the three witches.

Mitzi ordered Cosmopolitans for all of them.

“Wristbands?” Sherry asked.  The girls held up their florescent red wristbands that indicated they were at least twenty-one.  “Right.  Coming up,” and then she was gone.

“She seems friendly,” Mitzi said sarcastically.

“Protective,” Mack said.  All three girls looked at him quizzically.  “They’re all protective of him,” he said with a thumb in my direction.  “There’s like six vampires near us at all times.  They rotate, but there’s always more than four.”

Leave it to Mack to spot bodyguards in orbit around us in the middle of a sea of partying people.

Pretty Aleah was frowning, looking around the club, her head even tilting up to glance at the ceiling.  “Who did all that? Not you?” She waved at the wards. “They set my teeth on edge.”

“Actually, it was me.  Took most of a day.  Let me guess: you’re an Earth witch?” I asked.

“Yeah, and how’d you guess that?” she asked.

“The wards disrupt electrical fields, wi-fi, and the like.  They’re grounded to Earth,” I said.

“So you really do know the Irwin secrets, don’t you?” Aleah asked with a look of fascination.  “And you saw that grimoire?  The one every circle in the country was after?”

“I do and I did,” I said back with a smile.  Mitzi was frowning now, apparently not liking our personal byplay.

“Are you really as strong as they say?” she asked now, earning herself a quick flicker of annoyance from Aleah.

“Whoa.  Let’s hold up right there,” Mack said, suddenly.  “We all know about my boy here.  Hell, your houseguests probably explained his pedigree in graphic detail.  So, let’s just skip the questions about him and find out exactly what any of you can offer?”

I looked at my buddy in disbelief.  He flashed me a grin, which slid away as he turned back to the three witches, who were staring at him in disbelief.

“You are pretty mouthy for a non-practitioner,” Mitzi said.  “You must have an idea of what we could do to you.”

“I go to school with some of the meanest witches around.  Of course I know.  I also know your limitations.  None of you can really touch me,” he challenged, leaning back.  “And when you try, it will count against you in negotiations.”

“Negotiations?” I asked, even as the three young women narrowed their eyes.

“Shhhh, dude.  I got this,” he said.   And I realized right then that he was in horse breeder heaven, wheeling and dealing for stud rights.

“Really?” Aleah asked, leaning forward. Mitzi looked at her, then Mack, then myself, visibly coming to some decision.  She leaned back while Aleah started to mutter under her breath, weaving the fingers of one hand.   She cast whatever she’d been brewing up and then yelped when it twisted back on her, stinging the finger that cast it.

“I’m warded,” Mack said.  “And I’m basically sitting in his house,” he said with a thumb in first my direction and then up at the runes on the ceiling. First rule of witch fights is to never fight another witch in her own house.

Realization hit Aleah as she sucked on her right index finger.  Mitzi just smiled at me and Malene was starting a slow nod.

“I’m an Air Affinity.  Both parents were witches and I’m currently second in my Circle and most likely to replace the current first.  I’m a native New Yorker, with a family support system and a solid career.  And I will rock your world in bed,” Mitzi said to me, one eyebrow arched, a sly smile on her lips… which she licked.

Mack was grinning, Aleah looked affronted, and Malene leaned back, blankfaced.

“Well, she’s certainly had the practice,” another voice said and we all turned around.  My heart did a stutter step in my chest, my jaw falling open all on its own.

Stacia walked toward us, dressed for the club in a short, tight red dress that flowed along every curve of her body.  Red high heels, long tan legs, white blonde hair, sparkling green eyes, and that dress.  She may have had a purse.  I’m not sure.

“Whoa,” Mack breathed.

The three witches recovered much faster than Mack or me.  In the side of my vision, I had the impression that Mitzi may have crossed her arms, but honestly, it was hard to pay much attention and frankly. I was still thunderstruck.  I’d never seen Stacia dressed to the nines in person.  I’ve seen her naked, briefly, and I’ve seen her in all manner of business, casual, and workout gear.  She was a natural stunner in anything or nothing and the LV virus had only enhanced her beauty.  But dressed to kill?  A guy might forget to keep breathing.

“Bitch,” Mitzi said, her voice a touch catty.

“Witch,” Stacia said, her own tone even.

“Trolling for wolves?  Looking for a furry romp?  I haven’t seen any of your kind tonight,” Mitzi said.

“Nope.  Here to collect these two,” she said, not rising to the bait.  “Chris is pulling you back.  There’s been a development,” she directed at me.

Three phones buzzed in three different handbags.  Aleah and Malene pulled theirs but Mitzi just focused on Stacia.

“We’re kind of involved here,” she said.  “Maybe the restaurant next door has some bones to chew on while you wait.”

“Plenty of bones right here.  Bags of bones,” Stacia said, a deeper tone in her voice.

Mitzi drew a breath but Aleah interrupted her by shoving her phone in front of her face.  Annoyed, Mitzi pulled back but her glance at the phone turned into complete focus.  Then she turned to me.  “You’ve been outted.  This changes everything.”

Grabbing Aleah’s hand, she turned the phone so I could see a screen shot of a YouTube page.  I recognized Castille and I certainly recognized the photo he held up to the camera in the picture.  Me.  Standing outside Demidova Tower.

I looked at Stacia.  She nodded.  “There have been some developments.  Chris and Tanya are pulling everyone in while they work up a response.  That’s part of it.”

“And you just happened to be in the area?  Dressed for clubbing?” Mitzi asked, even as she and her two cronies got up and started to move away.

“I was going clubbing when I got the call,” Stacia said with a shrug.

“Except you usually go clubbing with me and you never answered my texts,” Mitzi said.  “So I’m calling bullshit.  Stay with your own kind, Reynolds.”

“Come on.  There’s a car outside,” Stacia said, ignoring Mitzi, who was moving away.

“Bye, stud.  Maybe this will all work out,” Mitzi said to me before the crowd swallowed her whole.

Then I noticed how much attention we were getting.  Granted, much of it was focused on Stacia, but some people were looking from phones to me.  A screen of vampires was suddenly around us and then we were moving at speed through the club, up the stairs, and out the front door.  One of the Mercedes vans was waiting, four of Deckert’s men standing watch, one at each corner of the vehicle.  I followed Stacia into the van, Mack close behind, the four guards flowing in behind us, and then we were pulling away.

Stacia explained the death of Cuttle and Castille’s YouTube videos, the last of which named me as a witch.  It was enough to pull my thoughts away from the touch of her leg against mine and the smell of her perfume.

“How bad is it?”

“Well, it’s made every news network in the country.  Chris said that they now think Castille filmed the videos on a plane.  They think he’s headed here, to New York.  There are already people and media surrounding the building. Darion’s group and the PR people expect a full-on shitstorm. We’re parking in the building next door and going through the tunnel,” she said.

“I thought the tunnel was only for real emergencies?” I asked.

“It is,” she said, patting my hand.  “But we’ll figure it out.  We always do.”

I shared a look with Mack.  So much for best roommate awards.

Chapter 39 - Chris

“Are they back?” I asked, dragging my attention away from the live news feed.

“Yes, they came in a half hour ago.  I sent Declan to Susskins to keep him occupied and away from the drama outside.  Susskins wants to see what he can do with the topological insulators he’s been working with.  He has a theory that Declan could cut nano-level circuits in Stanene.  That could allow for room temperature superconduction,” Tanya replied.

“Yes would have been fine.  The rest of what you said was gibberish,” I said.  She smiled and I forgot to be snide.

“Just keeping him away from the crowds and Castille, if he shows up,” she said.

“He’s here. Castille,” Lydia called out, obviously listening to us from across the big office turned war room. “Just pulled up out front in a big limo.”

We moved over to the wall monitor, which was set on split-screen mode.  The left-hand window was a security feed from the camera over the front door.  The right hand was live coverage by a local news reporter stationed almost in the same spot.

The lines were clearly drawn in the two groups of people out front.  One side was equipped with signs protesting the Demidova Corporation, its experimental drugs, and the very existence of vampires.

The other large group was our supporters, clearly a spontaneous gathering of people who believed in what we had done in Washington.  They were loud and passionate, but unorganized and un-led.  Despite that, they had held their own until Castille and his posse arrived and de-assed from the big white limo.  Both groups converged on him and his portly lawyer buddy.

Most people would have been at least mildly anxious at two big, riotous groups yelling at them, but this guy was right at home.  With his evil bible clutched under his left arm, he smiled and began to speak, and both groups paused to listen.

“What’s he saying?  Can we get audio?” Lydia asked, looking at Arkady.

The massive vampire gently tweaked a control on his tablet with one big finger and the sound came up.

“—time has come to put an end to this corruption of what is correct and natural.  Their charisma is undeniable and none of you should feel bad for falling under their spell.  Spells,” Castille was saying, looking mainly at the group who supported us.  Had supported us.  I could see them already looking uncertain.  It was ironic that he was casting his own spell, him and that book, while talking about our spells.

It wasn’t instant; some supporters were yelling angry comments at him.  But he deflected each with ease and quickly wove them into his auditory hypnosis.

“Okay, time to counterattack,” I said, pulling on a hoody.  Tanya held my eyes for a full five count before nodding.

“I’ll be in the lobby,” she said.

“We’ll be in the lobby,” Lydia corrected, waving a hand at Arkady, herself, and Tanya.

“Right.  I’m off,” I said.

Four minutes later, I exited the building from the parking garage, on foot, hood up.  With my casual jeans and dark hoodie, I blended right into the crowd, coming in from the back, eeling my way through the press of bodies.

“What I am saying is how do we know, really know, that they’re on our side?  Sure, they fought in Washington, but are you certain that wasn’t just a case of the enemy of my enemy is still not a friend?” Castille said.

“Yes, because picking a fight with a Demon Lord of Hell isn’t as much fun as it looks,” I said loudly from one row back.  Instantly, all attention turned my way as I lowered my hood and people realized who I was.  “You’re a talker Castille.  You manipulate people with your voice and words, but you don’t really do anything.  Anything useful.  You milk your flock for money and fly cross country in private jets, but you provide no service to mankind.  In fact, you provide a major disservice.”

He was startled for a split second, but he recovered smoothly, raising one hand to calm his bodyguard.  “Ah, the Hammer is here.  Of course.  He wants to finish me off here and now.  He’s so fast and strong that I’ll be gone before you all can blink and then he’ll explain it away, claiming I was possessed or something,” Castille said.  “Because God’s Hammer is just that… a violent fanatic.”

“Are you? Possessed?  You never hold services in a real church, just empty warehouses, civic centers, sports arenas. You never preach in the name of God, always our Lord.  Would that be Lord Satan? Lord Lucifer? And have you even stepped onto hallowed ground since you found that book?” I asked.

“You mean my holy bible?” he asked, holding it up, but ignoring my question.

“It was holy once, but not now.  In fact, it doesn’t even say holy on its cover anymore, does it? It says oly.  Or should that be oily? Tell us the truth, O pastor of lies. You found that book in a desecrated church in Sweat, Alaska.  The same church where people were slaughtered when the town fell under your demon’s sway,” I said.

“See?  Do you see how he seeks to pin me, me—a pastor of the Lord, as something evil that he is then free to kill… like he killed my friend John Cuttle,” he said to the crowd.

“That’s fascinating, Pastor Castille, because the evidence shows Cuttle was killed by a short range anti-vehicle missile, probably fired from a drone.  Does that sound like us?” I asked the crowd.  “Or does it sound like maybe the same source that launched a Tomahawk missile at us?  But let’s settle this here and now.  Let’s just stroll up the road a bit and hold our discussion inside that Catholic Church on the corner,” I said.  “You know—consecrated ground?  Or would that be a problem to a pastor who never names God.  Tell us Castille, who is your Lord?  Satan?”

He frowned, drawing a breath to speak, but our word battle was interrupted by two black SUVs with government plates that pulled up with grill lights flashing.  All eyes focused on the agents that stepped out.  One car held agents Krupp and Mazar along with Declan’s friend Caeco.  The other car disgorged Deputy Director Donlon, Agent Gellan, and two other unknown men in black.

“Mr. Gordon, Reverend Castille, a word if you please,” Agent Krupp said, not even trying to phrase it as a request.  Castille and I exchanged a glance, then moved separately toward the feds.

“Agent, I want protection from that… creature,” Castille demanded.

“Let’s all step into the building lobby here,” Krupp said.

“So Gordon and his people can finish me off away from cameras?  I don’t think so,” Castille said.

“Let’s clip the drama down to shoulder length, Reverend.  Nobody’s finishing anyone.  But we all need to talk.  This is Deputy Director Donlon of the NSA.  I’m Special Agent Krupp and this is Special Agent Mazar of the FBI,” she said, herding Castille into the doorway and the lobby beyond.   “Gordon, where’s Demidova?”

“I’m right behind you, Agent,” my vampire said over Krupp’s shoulder.  To give her credit, the tough little fed didn’t flinch, but I saw her eyes tighten sharply.  Arkady and Lydia were on either side of Tanya.

“Maybe we can sit down somewhere?” Krupp asked, twisting to look behind herself and bring all three vampires into focus.

“I’m not going any farther into this den of evil,” Castille said.

Donlon ignored him, instead walking over to the waiting area and sitting down in a plush chair.  Then he looked at the rest of us.  “Well?  Let’s get this going,” he said in the tone of someone used to being obeyed.

Within moments, we were all sitting down, trying to ignore the crowd looking in through the glass walls fronting the building.  Agent Gellan and his two companions blocked the front door, preventing the lobby from flooding with bystanders while the front desk personnel stood in front of the elevators to stop anyone from getting off.

“Gordon and company didn’t kill your security chief, Reverend,” Krupp began when we were all seated.  “The NSA did.”

Chapter 40 – Declan

I’d had it.  First getting yanked out of Plasma like a kid past curfew, with Stacia still in some funk, and then sent to Susskins while Mack got to hang out and play video games in my quarters.  Actually, I could have handled all that, but Susskins was the most insulting, egotistical son of bitch I’d ever met.

He belittled my intelligence, my schooling, and my future with every failure to achieve quantum stability.  Give me a break.  Baldy had been at it for years; me, almost half an hour.  Yet when I didn’t instantly give him perfection, he started calling me a moron, an idiot, a cretin.  He drew me pictures so I could visualize what he wanted but I was so mad, I couldn’t concentrate.  Then he said something about my mom.  That she must have been the product of incest.

Now he was stuck to the ceiling, plastered in a spread eagle position directly over the massive black cube of the D-Wave cryogenic cooling unit—which was chilling at some ridiculous degree below zero.  Frost had formed on his lab coat in the short time I’d had him up there, hanging a couple or inches from the cold metal.

“Declan, put him down.  Dr. Susskins didn’t mean what he said about your mother,” Chet said.

“That’s right, Declan. I was kidding.  Just my way of motivating my staff,” Susskins said, his breath fogging in the super-chilled air. He didn’t look quite so condescending now.

Etch his flesh like he wanted that metal etched, Sorrow suggested, showing me just how to do it. A spell to magically tattoo glyphs into flesh.

It would be easy, now that my many-great grandmother’s grimoire had shown me.  I could literally tattoo him with electrons, burning any symbol I wanted into his skin.

Hi I’m an asshole! emblazoned across his forehead.  Perfect.

“Declan, why is Dr. Susskins on the ceiling?” Stacia suddenly asked from behind me.  Turning to her, I gave Chet a glare as I did, guessing that he’d called in help.  He shrugged.

She had changed into yoga pants and a stretchy blue workout shirt.  I wasn’t going to let her distract me from my anger.  After studying my expression, she turned and looked up.

“Nevermind.  Susskins, what did you do or say that put you up there?” she asked.

When the doctor didn’t answer right away, Chet answered for him.  “He may have said something about Declan’s mom.”

“Oh no.  Tell me you didn’t?” she asked.

“He said my mom was a product of incest,” I said.

She sucked in a sharp breath, staring at me for a moment.  “I take it all back.  Declan, why is Dr. Susskins still alive?” she asked in exactly the same tone she’d used when she’d first walked in.

“Now see here,” Susskins said, frost on his eyebrows building from his breath.

“No Doc, you see here.  Declan’s mom was the product of generations of Irish witches selecting the very best partners they could find.  She was, by all accounts, the most powerful witch to come out of a nation that has consistently produced strong witches.  So for you to tell the son of that witch that she was in any way of poor breeding is so monumentally stupid that it makes me wonder how you stay alive when that massive cranium isn’t in the lab. What could possibly possess you to say such a thing?” she asked.

“I was trying to motivate the boy,” he said.

“Before you undertake a motivation program, you should first decide what behavior you are actually looking for.  Getting yourself murdered by an angry warlock is sort of Darwinian, don’t you think?  Removing your own genes from the pool by insulting his?  No wonder this program goes nowhere.”

“In reviewing my technique, I have to admit to perhaps not thinking it through first.  It’s just he has so much raw ability.  We should be able to do this,” he said, eyelashes now clumping together with white.

I realized, somewhere in the middle of his speech, that with Sorrow’s mental tutorial, it would be almost as easy to accomplish it on the single atom thickness of tin that he called Stantene.  Not that I could actually see the metal that was attached to a substrate, but I could feel it with my Earth senses.

With a wave, I removed Susskins from his spot on the ceiling tiles, sliding him across the ceiling to just above an open spot on the floor and then removing my telekinetic hold on him.  He hit the floor with a satisfying thump.

“Shit, Declan!  Dude, you can’t just throw people around like that,” Chet said, looking seriously freaked out.

“See, Chet, but he can.  He just doesn’t, unless he’s seriously provoked.  Calling him names won’t generally do it, but attack someone he cares about, living or dead, and well, there ya go,” Stacia said.

Now I suddenly felt bad.  This wasn’t me.  I wasn’t that guy.  The one who used his abilities against those without them just because he could.

“This isn’t working out.  I probably shouldn’t have done that, but I’m not going to sit here and listen to his verbal abuse, Stacia.  Chris and Tanya can fire my ass if they want. I didn’t sign up for this,” I said.  “In fact, I’ll start packing now.  Mack and I can be gone within the hour.”

“Whoa, whoa.  Nobody said anything about firing anyone, dude.  Right Doc?” Chet asked Susskins, who was sitting up and rubbing his hands and blowing on them. Stacia wasn’t saying a word, just watching me.

“What?  Of course not.  I just want you to use what you were born with,” he said, frowning.  I actually believed him.  The arrogant son of a bitch thought nothing of degrading people, but he also wasn’t holding my temper tantrum against me.

“I use my intelligence to its fullest and I have little patience for people who can’t equal it—which is no one, by the way.  So I do understand when you use your gifts to their maximum capacity, even if it was against me,” he said.

“That wasn’t maximum.  Not even close,” I said.

“Really?  You can throw me on the ceiling but you can’t scribe a simple circuit on a tiny piece of metal?” he said.

“I think I can.  I didn’t figure it out till Sor… till I got mad,” I said.

“Show us,” Stacia said, waving at the little table that held our experimental material.

After thinking it through one more time, I looked at the drawing Susskins had made while reaching out to the little block of substrate and its nano-sized piece of tin with my mind. “I think I just did it,” I said.

“Nothing happened,” Stacia said.

“Nothing visible to the naked eye,” Chet said.

Susskins stood up and looked from me to the experimental substrate, then he looked at his computer monitor.  Chet moved up next to him and they both studied the readout.  The only other people in the room, two technicians, a man and a woman, were still backed up against the wall, watching me like I was a crazed carnival clown.

Susskins looked up from the monitor, exchanged a glance with Chet, and then turned to me.  “Excellent.  Absolutely perfect.”

Now I just felt weird.  “Yeah, well it’s not so hard.”

Stacia smiled at me.  “You help them if you want, but if either of them get abusive, walk away.  Then tell me and I’ll kick their asses,” she growled the last part.

“Threats won’t be necessary.  Now that we know what we’re about, we can do a whole lot of more of it,” Susskins said.  “Samantha… what are you doing over there?  Never mind, just bring up the theoretical architecture diagrams.  Calvin, come away from that wall and find out where we can get more Stanene,” Susskins said.

“Ah, I can probably make more of it,” I said.

“Really?  How?” Chet asked.

“Well, if we have tin on hand, I can sort of repurpose it, so to speak,” I said.

“My boy, you didn’t even know what it was until an hour ago.  Now you think you can make it?” Susskins asked, but his tone wasn’t condescending, just curious.

“I can feel it,” I said, “and therefore, I can replicate it as long as I have the raw material.”

“Could you mold the circuits into it as you synthesis it?” Chet asked.

“Could you?” Susskins asked, truly excited.

“Probably,” I said.

“You heard the boy—no.  You heard the man,” Susskins said.  “Let’s get him some tin.  We have a quantum computer to build.”

Stacia leaned in and whispered in my ear.  “I mean it.  Stop when you want and let me know if Susskins gets nasty.  And thank you for my blade breaker,” she said, giving my cheek a kiss.  “All right, I’m going to check in with the others.  Play nice,” she said, sauntering away.

I watched her walk away while Susskins gave orders and the room got rearranged behind me.  Then I turned back, meeting Chet’s eyes.  He had a funny little smile that I couldn’t decipher, but he just nodded and started to lay out material.  Susskins looked up from a monitor, where he was reviewing diagrams of quantum circuits.

“Come on, people. Let’s make history,” he said.  I shivered a little. Making history wasn’t necessarily hard; making good history was.

Chapter 41 – Chris

“It wasn’t actually the NSA but an… asset of ours that identified your man as a terrorist for killing those children,” Donlon said.  “And unless you cooperate fully, you are likely next, Reverend.”

“You expect me to believe this bullshit?” Castille asked, sounding less like a reverend and more like an… ex-card shark.  “This is a cover-up.  You people are just protecting these monsters for your own purposes.”

Krupp leaned down and placed an open file in front of Castille.  It was opened to a page with a transcript of a cell phone call.  His attorney, Fierro, leaned down and looked it over.  I already recognized it.

“This was collected illegally.  You’re not allowed to spy on Americans,” the fat lawyer said.

“Actually, it was delivered to us anonymously, giving the Bureau probable cause to get warrants for your text messages.  Didn’t you ever warn your client to avoid writing incriminating things on texts and e-mail, councilor?” Mazar said, glancing at Tanya and me.

“So what is the point of this?” Castille asked.

“The point is that you are now likely marked by the Agency’s asset as a threat to National Security.  We don’t want you to get blown up.  Put in jail, yes… blown up, no,” Krupp said. “We want to put you in protective custody.”

“Speak for yourself, Agent Krupp,” Tanya said.  “I would not mind seeing him blown to pieces.”

“Even if it happened right here and right now, in your own building?” Donlon asked.

Grim had been scanning the skies around us, and there were only media drones in the air.

“It hasn’t been able to yet,” I said. “This building is protected.”

“And yet when we pulled up, you were outside the building,” Mazar pointed out.  “How many minutes more before it took a shot at you?”

“It’s been taking shots at me for quite some time now,” I said.

“And what stops my client from being bombed or blown up if he is in your custody?” Fierro asked, ignoring my exchange with Mazar.

“Essentially our presence,” Donlon said.  “Our asset protects its own.”

“Just what is this asset?” Fierro asked. “You called it an it?”

“Never mind. There isn’t time for explainations,” Krupp said.

“Oh no?” Castille said. “How come I flew over twenty-four hundred miles without getting shot down?”

“We aren’t certain,” Krupp admitted.

“It may be because the collateral damage from shooting down a plane would be unacceptably large,” Donlon said.

“Or it flushed him here to bring us all together in one nice, easily wrapped up target,” Lydia mused.

“Inside a building it hasn’t been able to attack?” Tanya asked.

“Hasn’t been able to attack yet,” Lydia said.  “Remember, Declan felt it was seeking ways around his…” she looked at our visitors, who all looked extremely interested in her words, “...protections.”

“You consort with witches.  Where is this spawn of the devil?” Castille asked.

“Far away from you and your demon book,” I said.

“The boy thinks it can do that?” Donlon asked, frowning.

“He thinks it may have already done so,” I answered.

Chapter 42 – Declan

I got tired of forming all those nanoscale shapes and designs pretty much in the first fifteen minutes.  So I stopped, ignoring Susskins’ protests, and broke out my Crafting supplies.  Should have done that from the start.

First, I drew a circle around the metal table and all the apparatus that Chet and Susskins had set up.  Then I went over the circle with green spray paint to make it less likely to get scuffed.  Inside, I began to line the inner arc with runes, writing a program, like I had when we protected the satellites, only in Sharpie, on the floor of the room.  When I had that done, I put the laptop that showed all the chip designs for the qubit circuits right next to the plexiglass vacuum box that held the tin and bismuth telluride substrate, the whole thing sprouting wires and tubes going into God knows what kind of machines and sensors.  Then I closed the circle, from inside, sitting down on a chair next to the worktable, and wrote more symbols right up the square leg of the table, across its metal top, bringing it almost to the box.  Next, I linked the runic spell to the power in the building, energizing the spell by carefully entering the last rune, giefu or gift, which basically is a big X, onto the final space against the plexiglass box.

Now, the program spell began to convert the small sheet of tin into a single atom thickness, twisting the designs from the laptop into the new metal.  It took a bunch of tweaks and some suggestions from Sorrow, but after about ten more minutes, it started to run on its own, guided by my attention.

One of Susskins’ assistants, Samantha, was walking across the floor, eyes on her tablet, headed right for the circle.  I intercepted her, holding up one hand.  Her eyes were immediately frightened. “I just don’t want you to break the circle.  Then I have to start over.”

She nodded, shooting a worried glance at Susskins, who had noted the whole thing.  Instead of yelling at her, he frowned and then motioned for both her and the other one, Calvin, to attend him.  “Let’s string some light wire, about waist high, around this circle to keep any of us from breaking Declan’s line,” was all he said.

The two technicians rigged up a makeshift wire fence in minutes, using chairs, an empty server rack, and a length of plastic conduit.

“Do you have to stay in there?” Chet asked.

“Pretty much.  The circle and runes let me automate the process a bit, but I still have to guide it.  This is much less tiring, though,” I said.

“If these readings are right, you’ve drawn an ion implanter on the floor with markers?  And it’s making Stanene,” Susskins said, shaking his head.

I wasn’t sure if that’s what I’d done but I nodded sagely like it wasn’t nothing but a thing.

“Now, we just have to let it run while I keep an eye on it and move it from one circuit to the next,” I said.

“And we’ll have a quantum computer when it’s done… cooking?” Calvin asked.

“We… might… if the designs are correct,” I said.

“Hmpf.  Of course they’re correct,” Susskins said, not even looking up from his monitor.  “Lady and gentlemen, sometime in the next hour or so, we will witness a historic moment.”

Hmmm, a good historic moment or the end-of-humans historic moment, I wondered.

Inside the plastic case in front of me, the answer continued to draw itself, atom by atom.

Chapter 43 – Chris

It was an utterly ridiculous situation.  Castille should have been loaded into a police vehicle in handcuffs and hauled away by now.  Instead, they were still talking about it.  I could tell when Krupp or Mazar or both would be ready to call it and read him his rights, and then Castille would say something, almost anything, and they’d settle back down.  It was that damned book. I could see it clear as black greasy smoke every time I looked at it.  It was a cloud hanging over the room and fogging normally razor-sharp minds.

I’d fired off a half dozen bursts of aura, but other than assuring that every firearm in a fifty-foot radius was now carrying inert ammo and maybe giving the agents moments of clarity, it really did little else.

There was something about the bible that gave it so much horsepower—or maybe demon power.  It wasn’t like Sorrow, which had had its own queasy feeling back when it just a book of evil and not part of an eighteen-year-old boy.  This was more concrete, more anchored in the here and now.  In desperation, I moved closer to Castille, which he noticed instantly, shifting himself to the open spot between Mazar and Donlon.

“At the least, we need you to come downtown and give a statement,” Krupp said, stubbornly trying to stay on topic.  “Your attorney can ride with you.”

“Agent Krupp, I would love to give you a complete and accurate statement, but as you can see, my presence here is necessary to keep those faithful people outside from rioting,” Castille said smoothly.

“True, true,” Krupp said a little absently.

I shot a frustrated glance at Tanya, who just raised one eyebrow as she considered the situation.  She was planning something, and I had best be ready.

“But Reverend,” Donlon said, his tone when he said Castille’s title taking on a respectful note. “We need to protect you from Anvil.”  Donlon had long since spilled what was probably top-secret information to everyone in earshot.

“And where better than right here, where your program seems unable to penetrate,” Castille said, reasonably.

“Well, that does seem to be the case,” Donlon said, scratching his head and frowning, like he was trying to remember something… maybe anything.

“Yes, this boy wizard the vampires employ seems to have created some powerful protections against your very advanced software.  I imagine he could write his own ticket from China or Russia or any other country on earth,” Castille suggested.

“Where is O’Carroll?  I still need to talk to him,” Donlon said, turning to me, his tone forceful. “Perhaps I need to call for a warrant?”

Both Krupp and Mazar looked interested but Declan’s friend, Caeco, just looked anxious.  She didn’t seem to be under Castille’s spell.

Tanya caught my eye, both thinking the same thought. That Castille’s entire visit was an attempt to get face to face with our teenaged warlock, an event Barbiel had warned me in no uncertain terms to be avoided.  Whatever Tanya was going to do, and it promised to be physical, now was the time to do it.

“Reverend?” she suddenly asked, her voice pitched in a tone I’d heard a few times before.  It was bell-like, clean and pure, commanding instant attention to its speaker.

“That’s an interesting copy of the King James bible you have there,” she noted, drawing everyone’s attention to the book clutched in his hand.  His eyes flickered and his hand rose almost absently.  The bible came into view and as all eyes, including the reverend’s, turned to the worn, faded book, she moved.

Ten feet covered in a tenth of a heartbeat, black book slapped from his hand so hard, I heard bones crunching.  The bible turned end over end, flipping through the air right at me.  My hand shot out, snapping shut on the binding.  An arc of what felt like lightning shot through my body, locking up my joints.

Declan fires off bolts of electricity during every training round and all of us had been on the receiving end many times.  This was different.  This was like the time I pressed a bare, wet hand to a metal pipe on Gramp’s farm in the dead of winter at twenty-five below zero.

Time caught up and everyone turned to me, startled and alarmed, Castille beginning to feel the pain in his broken hand.  And me… I was still frozen in place, fighting the black ball of frozen lightning in my left hand.

Chapter 44 – Declan

I think my brain got numb five minutes after my ass did.  The pattern I was creating had been interesting for the first twenty minutes, mildly entertaining for the next twenty, tedious for the next ten, and was now almost excruciatingly boring.

“You’re ninety-seven percent complete,” Susskins said.  “My creation is becoming reality.”

“If it even works,” I said.

“Oh it will work.  It is, after all, my design,” he said.  The word haughty popped into my head.  “It is all my design, by the way.  I made it, I created it from nothing.  But I don’t own it.  No—it belongs to the Demidova Corporation.  Does that seem fair to you?”

“Well, that’s what they hired you to do, right?  Build a quantum computer?” I asked, although I could see some of his point.  But then again—hello?  Who was doing the actual assembly here?

“Oh, they pay my salary and it’s very robust, but this beautiful creation will change everything.  Three hundred thousand dollars doesn’t seem remotely enough for delivering a computer that will make all others instantly obsolete, does it?”

“Well, why didn’t you do it on your own, then?” I asked, glancing at him.  He was alternating looking at his monitor and fiddling with his wallet.

“You are at ninety-eight percent,” he said.  “Do you have any idea how much it costs to put together a research lab as well equipped as this one?”

“I’m guessing quite a lot, but that kind of answers the question, doesn’t it?” I asked.

“In my case, maybe.  But what about you?  You’re using your completely unique skills that cost you just a few dollars in chalk, markers, and paint?  Yet you’re only being paid an intern’s salary,” he said.

He had a point.  Yes, my salary was ridiculous for an intern, but still it was small potatoes compared to what this thing could supposedly do when it was turned on.

“Well, you have a point, but I think I’ll just trust them to take care of me.  They’re already putting me through college and my intern’s salary isn’t what you think,” I said.

“You’re up to ninety-nine percent.  Next you’ll tell me that you’ll still have the satisfaction of a job well done,” he said in a mocking voice. “Your faith in human nature is absurd.”  He was quiet for a moment. I looked over to see him staring at his ID tag in one hand and a bright blue credit card in the other.  Something about the credit card bothered me.

“The thing about this job is that it can fully occupy your mind,” he said, looking up, a deranged grin on his Dr. Evil face.  “Keep all your surface thoughts technical while your deepest wishes and dreams stay private from even the best mind reader.”

Now I was alarmed.  He smiled at me, but it wasn’t reassuring.  “Congratulations.  One hundred percent. You have completed the world’s first truly functional quantum computer,” he said, pressing several keys on his board.  The plexiglass box beside me started to hum and I felt the new computer come alive.  It was different.  Vastly different than anything I’d ever felt before.  I looked his way.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but the truth is… I don’t care,” he said and then he threw the ID card toward the airlock doors, simultaneously flipping the credit card my way.  It spun end over end, heading for my circle, which had no power to stop physical objects and as it spun, the little silver rectangle that was shaped like a circuit caught my eye.  That’s what had bothered me.  It was a chipped card… with a complete integral, functional computer chip inside it.  Headed for the most advanced computer ever built.  Landing on the quantum processor and instantly unfolding a dreadfully familiar program.  The ID card hit the door at the same time and one or the other set off a crazy blaring alarm, even as both sets of airlock doors opened to the computer room and the mini version of Anvil began to attack the newly created computer.

“That’s my cue,” Susskins said, heading for the door.  I didn’t even try to stop him, my complete attention focused on grabbing the credit card with my left hand and putting my right palm on the plastic case top.  The fight was immediate, the program hungry to invade the pristine processor, something it could only have over my dead body.

Chapter 45 – Chris

The devil book stuck to my hand and froze me solid. Even my eyes were locked, stuck staring at the binding of the book where I could see it was hand-stitched.  Like a repair stitch or maybe the sewing you’d use to fasten something into the binding.

Inside myself, I struggled, throwing my mind against the stasis that held me.  At first, I almost panicked, but even as the others started to move, I drew on the calm that Tanya was projecting over our bond and then drew on my aura.  Oh, and I called for Kirby, too.

Suddenly, the God Hawk was flapping enormous wings directly overhead and something about his presence gave me the strength to move a bit.  Just my right hand, but that was enough to form a mono-edge on one finger and slice the binding.  The back of the book burst open and a long black object ejected, almost directly into my hand.  It was an oversized toe bone, a metatarsal maybe, complete with a wicked three-inch claw.  I knew instantly what manner of creature it had come from—after all, I had seen many of them during my brief visit to Hell. Demon in physical form, an impossibility here on Earth. But now, it seemed, perhaps not.

Moving with what seemed glacial slowness, I extended my arm above my head.  Kirby screeched at the sight of the bone and dove for my arm.

Two talons, each the size of a banana, pincered together, just catching the toe bone between their needle-sharp tips.  With two flaps of his wings, Kirby ripped the bone from my hand and the paralysis was gone.  But after rising straight toward the lobby ceiling, he did something he had never done before.  He failed to disappear from our dimension.  His wings flapped and strained, yet he was stuck, as if anchored to the Earth.  His cry changed to a scream of anger and suddenly, a second God bird popped in among us, the downdraft of its wings adding to Kirby’s and blowing magazines and newspapers across the lobby.  Kirby Two stretched out a massive foot and clutched the bone with two equally sharp and deadly talons, and then both birds pulled hard.

The bone resisted, as if held by gravity, then suddenly popped free.  Something black and huge flickered into form, the shape that of a bipedal being hanging from a toe, only the bone solid, the rest… fuzzy.  The Kirbys’ voices changed to triumphant as they jumped out of existence, the toe bone and the black form attached to it disappearing with an audible pop.

I looked at Tanya and then the others, Castille now looking much shrunken and withdrawn even as he cradled his left hand.  The agents shook themselves like they were waking from a haze.  Tanya opened her mouth to speak, but an insanely loud alarm began screeching throughout the building.

“The computer center is under attack,” she said.  A noise from outside spun us around in time to see two massive manhole covers shoot straight up fifteen feet into the air as if shot from a cannon.  The two protesting factions stepped back, but nothing happened.  After a few seconds, a few intrepid souls started to move forward.  Any horror movie aficionado could have told them what came next—at least the basic idea, if not the specifics.

Sure enough, long, segmented shapes scuttled up out of the holes like an overflow of deadly metallic bugs bubbling up from the city’s sewers.

The first two out spun up their blades and turned toward the closest people, the unarmed humans of both factions.

There was no decision made, no consultation or deliberation.  Tanya and I were just suddenly outside, splitting apart to confront the first pedes even as more started to arise from the depths.

She headed for the one by the Church of the True’s supporters.  Most of the faithful had melted away at the sight of the massive metal monster, but one young kid still crouched before it, too confused to run.  He was maybe nine or ten and should have been home watching Ninja Turtles, not facing a death bug the size of a couch.

Tanya screamed, her voice pitched in a range of rage I’d never heard before.  The thing about my vampire is that her voice carries real power.  Her words could stun or even kill and in this case, the focused blast of sharp sound punched a hole completely through the middle segment and then broke the side widow of a car parked behind the bug.

Whether it was luck or scary accuracy, she hit the same segment that Stacia had discovered could paralyze a pede.  Both ends lifted off the ground, leaving the centipede in a horseshoe shape, vulnerable to the completely pissed-off vampire princess who proceeded to start tearing its legs and blades right off its carapace with her bare hands.

Then a second pede approached the boy and my vampire went bat shit crazy, chopping into it with two of the blades.  Her makeshift swords were ungainly and far from optimum, yet you wouldn’t know it from the mess she made of the second pede.

All this Grim processed as we sped toward the other centipede, its back to us.  Its sensors picked up my approach but even as it started to reverse its attack back at me, I was leaping over it.  Grim grabbed the deadly mandibles in my hands, flipping my body over and Pulling our feet to the ground on the other side of it.  It never would have happened without the addition of vampire energy; the robot’s mass was too much greater than my own.  But where I went, the bug and its body followed, flipping up and coming down hard like a bullwhip snapping out to clip a cigarette.

Turns out you can stun a pede that way, too, which leaves you plenty of time to rip the head off and stuff an arm down inside before casting out the mother of all aura burst from that very hand.

Centipede parts exploded outward, but I was left with enough of a body to use it as a flail against the next pede to poke its head out of the ground.  A series of robots flowed out of the hole but only one came at me, the other three scuttling in a deceptively fast run straight at the tower.

Tanya was still circling the boy, her face a mask of protective rage.  Who knew she felt so strongly about kids?

More robots came out and attacked, but my own reinforcements arrived in a roar of ursine fury and the controlled bursts of gunfire that came from Lydia, Nika, and Arkady.  That was followed by Deckert, his guys, and Declan’s friend Caeco.  The girl had somehow acquired a HK MP-5 submachine gun and was firing tight, controlled bursts of 9mm ammo, the bullets sticking to any bug she chose to hit.  Half a magazine and the bug would freeze up, leaving it vulnerable to the predations of Awasos in Kodiak form.

Still more robots poured up from below, their numbers growing faster than we could stop with gunfire or makeshift weapons.  The crowds had fled and our group backed toward the tower as an army of pedes assembled before us.

“Wear them out,” Lydia called.  “Use up their batteries.”

“How?” Nika yelled.

“I don’t know… make them chase you or fight or something,” Lydia said, firing a burst from her full auto pistol.

The street rumbled and I had a sudden, alarming vision of so many robots that it could shake the very road we stood on.  But instead of more centipedes, a large chunk of the road lifted up and assembled itself into a humanoid shape that was half as wide as it was tall.   And it was tall.  Almost as tall as Awasos but heavier, being all asphalt and concrete.

“Don’t shoot him.  That’s Robbie, and he’s Declan’s,” Caeco said.

“I think the fact that it’s crushing bugs left and right might have eventually clued us in,” Lydia said, lowering the barrel of her pistol as the massive stone man went to town on the pedes.

Tanya was cradling the boy, moving him toward the now-distant crowd and specifically to a woman and man who were being held back by their companions.

“Gordon, three of them made it inside the tower,” Deckert said.

“How?  The wards should have stopped them.”

“Not sure, but they had an extra hump each on both heads,” he said, calmly observing the battle over the sights of his own MP-5.  “Perhaps you would like to check on them?” he asked.

Tanya was returning but I couldn’t wait for her to catch up.  I moved at a sprint into the building, then paused before entering the hole that was torn in the elevator doors.

Same elevator that Declan had just finished fixing a few days ago.  Hearing nothing, I poked my head in and looked first down, then up.  Noises above told me where they had gone.  I followed, realizing that up led eventually to the computer floor.  Cling stepping up the shaft, I feared what I would find above me.

Chapter 46 – Declan

I was gonna win this no matter what it took. That nasty little slice of NSA virus fought me tooth and nail, but with Sorrow’s help, I slowly crushed it back.  To an outside observer, it probably looked like I was frozen in place, motionless except for the beads of sweat that started to drip down my face.  Then there was the credit card that started to smoke and melt as I forced Anvil’s clone back into the chip that had birthed it.

The sound of metal tearing penetrated my focus, followed by screams.  I turned my head, now picking up the clicking metallic sounds of many metal legs heading my way.  Then the familiar roar of an enraged werewolf in combat form, the clang of heavy tool steel meeting high speed metal, the ting and whine of shattered blades, and the floor-shaking thump of something heavy and fast slamming into robot bodies. The roaring, pounding, and clanging continued unabated, but more sound approached me.

Some of the clicking continued in my direction, resolving into the low-slung black form of a centipede charging across the outer computer room, desks and workstations bulldozed aside like children’s toys.

There was no time to prepare a war spell, only instant reflex sending a bolt of actinic energy into the body of the bug that now came rushing through the airlock, blasting it into a cloud of spalling metal as the Ignis Solis spell removed everything from below the head.

The head itself continued on, flying directly at me with a horrible sort of grace and speed, zooming too fast to dodge. From a speck to a looming, vision-blocking ball of heavy metal and sharp mandibles. Then it hit and my body became weightless.  I heard rather then felt it crunch into me, and that was all.

Chapter 47 – Chris

The pedes’ trail led straight where I thought it would—the tenth floor, the computer floor.  The elevator doors were ripped outward into the comp center, at least two of the rippers strewn about as scrap metal, leg blades shattered, carapaces cracked like crabs at Red Lobster.  Stacia’s seven-foot blade breaker lay in the middle of the comp center floor.

A path of destruction ran through the cubicles, server racks, workstations, and at least one photocopier.  Droplets of blood sprinkled the debris, and one divider wall had been charred black as well as shredded by what looked like molten metal.

The outer door of the airlock to the quantum-computing lab stood open, as did the supposedly foolproof inner door.  In the center of the lab, a naked Stacia cradled Declan’s limp body while her shaking hand hovered over the decapitated arachnid head whose mandible pinned the boy to the plastic box on the worktable.  She turned at my approach, her face twisted by grief and anxiety.

“I don’t know what to do—if I pull it, he’ll bleed to death. If I don’t, he’ll bleed to death if he isn’t already dying of poison,” she said, voice shaky, tears blurring her green eyes.

“Is all that blood on the floor his?” I asked.

“Mine,” she said, the gash on her thigh becoming visible as I got up close to them.

“He’s breathing and it looks like the sharp stuff missed his heart or lungs. Slice my hands, then pull the mandible.  I’ll coat both sides in blood.  More help is coming behind me,” I said.

“It’s here,” Tanya said from the doorway, Dr. Singh coming in just behind her.  “The centipedes outside suddenly froze.  Arkady and Nika are watching them while Deckert and the others bring up the heavy weapons.”

Doc Singh slid around her and quickly examined the unconscious boy.  “I concur with your plan, Chris.  The only addition will be these bandages after your blood treatment,” he said, producing heavy trauma pads from the first aid kit he removed from the wall mount in the corner.

Tanya sliced my hands with a sharp shard of centipede blade she found by the elevator.  Singh pulled the head and sharp mandible out of Declan while Stacia held him tight.  Then I slapped both bloody hands over his front and back puncture wounds, holding them till I felt my own wounds knit shut.  After that, Singh bandaged the boy professionally, then he and Stacia cleared a spot to lay Declan down.

“What’s the matter with his eyes?” Stacia asked.

The boy’s closed eyes fluttered as the eyeballs moved back and forth underneath, like he was dreaming or something.

“Look, this prototype is energized,” Tanya said, looking at the plastic case that Declan had been pinned to.

“And bloody,” I noted, pointing to the spot where the razor-sharp spike had punched through both Declan and the plexiglass, the kid’s blood pooling around the edge of the dinner-plate-sized disc of silvery metal.

“He appears to be in something like REM sleep,” Dr. Singh said.

“That’s dreams and nightmares, right?” Stacia asked.

“Yes, it is,” the doctor said, now examining her leg, which appeared to be healing shut on its own.

“What the hell would he be dreaming about after getting hit by that thing?” she asked.

All four of us exchanged glances, then looked at the door as Lydia came in.

“That’s kind of a disturbing question,” I noted.

“Especially because I think this unit is actually functional,” Tanya said.  “But just what it is functioning for is the question.”

“They taught it to play chess,” I said, picking up a slightly melted blue credit card with Susskins’ name on it.

“What?” Lydia asked, frowning as she looked around and tried to come up to speed.

“Anvil.  They taught it to play chess,” I said.  “And this is its end game.  Get quantum computer, end of game.”

“Well, let’s just unplug the computer,” Lydia said, approaching the plexi-box.  She suddenly bumped into a wall, an unseen wall.

“Ouch.  That wasn’t there a minute ago,” she said, spreading her hands out over an invisible shield like a mime on stage.  “It follows this circle on the floor.”

“That’s Declan’s work,” Stacia said, still naked and still holding my intern.  “But you’re right… it didn’t stop the head, or me for that matter.”

“Lydia, please get Nika up here right away,” Tanya said.

“You called,” the blonde mind reader said from the doorway.

“Damn, I’m just that good,” Lydia said in mock self-awe.

“I could feel something going on up here.  Oh?  Yes, I see,” Nika said, switching her gaze from the rest of us to where Declan lay, wrapped up in Stacia’s arms.  “He’s fighting. Trying to keep Anvil from the computer.”

“But that’s all over there,” Dr. Singh noted.

“So is his blood.  Sympathetic magic,” I said.

“Nika?  Did Declan activate the circle or did something else?” Tanya asked.

“I can’t tell.”

“Oh, right.  That would be bad if Anvil was able to activate a circle,” Lydia said.

“Ya think?  A hostile software package that occupied a quantum computer and could cast magic,” Nika said.

“We need advice.  We need Barbiel,” Tanya said.

“We could take Declan up the street to that church,” I said.

“What about this mess?” Lydia asked.

“It’ll still be here and he’s tied to it by blood,” I said.

Tanya blurred over to the unconscious boy, scooping him from Stacia’s arms.  The were girl growled, but my vampire just looked at her calmly.  “Get some sweats on.  You can carry him,” she said, not unkindly.

Stacia studied her for a second before running out of the room.  Carrying the boy, Tanya led us out of the quantum lab.  Stacia had called an elevator, even as she pulled on a pair of torn leggings and an abandoned lab coat.  Then she took Declan from an unresisting vampire princess.

Outside the building, Deckert and his men faced off with the army of centipedes.  Only our guys were now packing heavy weapons.  Barrett M82 .50 caliber anti-material rifles, Auto Assault 12 full auto shotguns, most likely loaded with FRAG 12 armor-piercing high explosive rounds and a couple of suspicious tubes that might have been anti-tank missiles.  Stevens draped a tarp over those before I got a good look, though.  Above us, a Demidova helicopter hovered, the barrel of an honest-to-god M2 heavy machine gun poking out the open compartment door.

With just a couple hand signals, Deckert had the entire squad of security guys form up around us and then we were all trotting for the Catholic church two blocks away.

The centipedes turned as one, like a flock of synchronized birds, watching but not moving.  The chopper held station overhead, the big Ma Deuce pointed at the bug army.

“They don’t know what we’re doing.  Anvil doesn’t understand the importance of the church,” I said as we jogged.  Nobody answered, but Tanya nodded and our party kept running.

Chapter 48 –Declan

I wanted to go to the baby that wouldn’t stop crying.  It was a scared cry.  An all-alone-and-abandoned cry.  But the old man in the funny clothes kept handing me playing cards that I had to throw at the red darkness.  He had a long white beard and hard dark eyes.

The cards hurt it, a little, spinning through the blood-colored clouds that filled the rest of the room and pressed against us.

A three of clubs, ten of diamonds, king of spades, all went spinning across the room as I shot them in alternating snaps from each hand.  The king must have hurt because the cloud pulled back, but only for a second.  Ace of hearts, two of spades, queen of clubs, I just kept throwing them and the old man kept handing them to me.

We were backing up, not by choice, but the damn clouds were pushing us back, probing at us from an upper corner or lower floor.  They didn’t like my cards, not one bit, but they kept pressing forward and the cards just disappeared into the red-shaded blackness.

Now we were backed into the doorway to the baby’s room, the old man behind me, feeding me an unending supply of cards.  The room was an odd sort of nursery, an antiquated Apple Macintosh on a desk in the corner, old software boxes stacked on shelves, a Microsoft poster on one wall.  The crib itself was made from Mac and PC boxes.

The pictures on the cards changed as the tough old man went through more decks, the face cards and number fonts shifting from small and shiny to old and worn, to downright archaic—big, thick, crudely drawn depictions of royalty and old-fashioned numbers.  No matter their form, coloring, or craftsmanship, they all spun off into the other room, which was now one big cloud the same hue as a storm sky at morning.  Sailors take warning.

The baby kept crying, the old man kept handing, and I kept throwing.  I held the doorframe for a while, increasing the speed of my throws, doubling and tripling cards in each hand.  But then the pace of cards coming into my hands slowed.  The old man shrugged, gave me a nod, and handed me what was obviously the final deck.

Then he moved to the crib and picked up the baby, holding it in stiff arms.  I saw it was a boy, naked and scared, although now he stopped crying and stared at the old warrior who held him.  The baby’s eyes glittered like silver or tin, light where the old man’s were black like night.

I turned back, flicking out cards in an arc, landing them on the floor in a semicircle closing off our side of the room.  The clouds flowed across the floor but stopped as if by a glass wall, rolling up to the ceiling but coming no further.  Then the cards on the floor fluttered, their edges browning a little, beginning to curl and smoke.

I turned back to the old man, but found him and the baby gone. Instead, a young boy stood naked next to the computer box crib.  About five years old, he regarded me with two mismatched eyes, one glittering silver, the other black.  I backed up and put my arms around him, shielding him from the cloud with my body.  He snuggled closer and we stood like that, waiting.  It wouldn’t be long now.

Chapter 49 – Chris

We hit the doors to the church hard, almost exploding them from their hinges.  A priest stood calmly, seemingly awaiting our arrival.

“Bring him this way,” he said, turning and leading us deeper into the sanctuary.  “Here on the altar, I should think,” he said, turning as if for approval, toward the priest’s chamber.

Barbiel stood there nodding.  “Perfect,” he said, face very serious as he moved closer to examine Declan’s unconscious form. Stacia had simply sat down, still holding his body tightly.

“You must help him, Christian.  You are the only one who can,” Barbiel said, turning his head to look my way.

“He’s fighting Anvil, isn’t he?” I asked.  The rest of my group wore expressions of awe and it occurred to me that they were actually seeing the Angel of October.

“How?  How can Christian help him?” Tanya asked, less shocked than the others.

“The battle takes place elsewhere.  You have the means to send him aid,” Barbiel said, pointing one finger at my chest.  I looked down.  No, not my chest—he was pointing at the God Tear around my neck.

“He helped you put it into its current form, no?” Barbiel asked me.

“Yes… well, he helped his aunt help me,” I said.

“Minor distinctions.  It was his strength and power that allowed the Tear to split and form two.  Now you must send him that strength and power.”

“How, Barbiel?  How do I do that?”

“You must pull the doppleganger… what his grimoire would call your doppleghiest to you.  Then you must send it into the boy.”

“I don’t know how to do that.  And that thing might as soon kill him as help him,” I said.

He shook his head, curly hair barely shifting.  “No.  It is you and you are it.  And it knows him.  It knows the flavor of his power, does it not?” Barbiel asked.

I thought about how he’d been able to take the duplicate necklace that Toni wore off her neck.  Nobody but me had been able to do that so far.

“It will leave Toni unprotected,” Tanya protested.

“For moments.  Besides, no other human goes through life with such a guardian.  At this time of night, she is safe in her bed.  Now is the very best time to do it. Now, when the guardian is feeling less concern for his charge.”

“What do I do?” I asked.

“First, place the God Tear over his neck,” he instructed.  Stacia gently raised the boy’s head, letting me slip the silver links of the necklace over his thick, shaggy hair.    Oddly, I found myself thinking he would need a haircut soon.

“Think of him,” my angelic case officer said, pointing at Declan.  “Think of him in every memory you can recall while you hold the Tear in your hand.  Lailah, you can help him with your bond.”

Memories?  The one thing I was most unsure of, yet because of this kid, this teenaged powerhouse of a witch, I had my memories of Tanya back.  It seemed fitting that those memories I didn’t need help with, that the ones that included all of my interactions with Declan should be the ones to help him.

“Where do I start?” I asked.

“Where else?  The beginning.  Think of your first sight of him,” Barbiel said.

“In the silo,” Stacia said.  “You must have seen him there first.”

“When you tore the cellblock open,” another voice said.  Caeco stood near the back of the sanctuary, gun slung, fingers laced together in a nervous gesture.  “He was telling his stupid Chuck Norris jokes to Toni.”

“I remember,” I said, picturing the lanky boy trying to bolster my goddaughter’s courage with clunky jokes.

“You and furface.  Then I came along,” Stacia said.

“They protected Toni when I couldn’t,” I said, the image of a dead assassin on the ground, killed by teens to protect the one I should have protected.

“Sheeeeit,” Lydia breathed.  I snapped around to look her way.  A violet figure stood four feet away, studying me.  I studied back.  It was like looking in a weird funhouse mirror that colored me purple.  I tilted my head, and the figure matched the motion exactly.

“Your young friend is fighting the battle of his life, almost all alone, and he is in desperate straits.  He needs the Hammer of God,” Barbiel said.  “Send your thoughts to him, Chris. Send your strength and resolve as he sent his into the Holy Tear.”

Turning from the purple me, I looked back at Declan.  His breathing was growing labored, the sweat on his forehead dripping onto the white-jacket-covered arms that held him tight.  What was he fighting in there?  What kind of battle raged in etherspace?

Chapter 50 – Declan

I coughed, the smell of the burning cards filling my nose, but I didn’t bother to look around.  Why?  Instead, I held the little boy close, trying to shelter him with my body, waiting for the end.

The singed remnants of my protective shield fluttered back, now close to my feet, pressure beginning to build on my back.  The reddish light grew darker, the room getting colder.

A flash of violet light lit up the room, coming from the nursery windows and from the outer room.  A second burst of purple tore through the smoke, illuminating every corner.  I spun around, keeping the kid inside my arms while trying to see what was happening.  Another wave of purple light crashed into us, rocking me back on my heels, then another and another after that.  I felt the boy’s lighter body come off the ground and press against my chest with each flash.

Something fast was moving through the reddish fog, although fast doesn’t begin to describe it.  It was faster than Chris or Tanya, fast like the ghost in the clinic.  And the red cloud was frightened of it, the smoke pulling away from the figure that moved in a continuous blur, blasts of violet energy flashing from it.

Movement in my arms pulled my attention back to the boy.  He was a little bigger than before, just a bit, but it was noticeable.  Like he was now seven or eight.  He looked into the red fog, his posture straightening up.  A slim hand touched my cheek as he looked me in the eye. The black eye and the silver one were gone, replaced by swirling cyclones of the two colors.  He patted my cheek a couple of times, reached down, and picked up three of the tattered cards.  His hands moved, his motions odd, and the cards were gone, a folded paper bird in their place on his palm.  He blew it toward the clouds and the little bird flew, its tiny wings flapping.  It seemed to grow bigger as I watched, from the size of a bumblebee to that of a sparrow.  A few more flaps and it was crow-sized, then larger than the largest raven.  It swooped through the nursery air, its flapping wings driving the smoke away till the room was clear.  Purple light still flashed in the outer room and now the paper raptor flew out the doorway and the smoke was gone.

My eyes fluttered and I reopened them.  The room was gone, replaced by a fantastic vaulted ceiling; most of my view taken up by green eyes that looked both worried and scared.

“We’re going to have to buy him lots of clothes,” I said to those eyes and then I knew nothing.

Chapter 51 – Chris

“We’re going to have to buy him lots of clothes,” Declan said immediately after opening his eyes, speaking directly to Stacia.  Then his eyes rolled back and he slumped down.  Doctor Singh was on him in a heartbeat.

“He’s asleep, I think.  Nika?” he asked.

“Yeah, he’s out.  Fight seems over,” she said.

“What happened?” Tanya asked Barbiel.

“I think it’s over.  Our side won.  Maybe cigars are in order,” he said.  Then he smiled wider as something occurred to him.  “Yes, cigars all around,” he said, winking at Tanya and elbowing me.  “Wow—look at the time.  I gotta go.  Reports and all that.”

And he was gone.  We all looked around, but he simply wasn’t there.  Doctor Singh stood up and caught my eye.  “Let’s take him back to the Tower,” he said, then tilted his head and studied Tanya.  “Have you been eating enough?” he asked her.  “You’re looking peaked.”

“I’m fine,” she said.

“No, she’s not been eating right,” I said, throwing her under the ambulance.

“Time for an examination, Princess,” Doctor Singh said, eyes narrowed.

She fought most people who gave her orders, but the good doctor had more leeway than most.  “Fine, if it will get you off my back, but first let’s get this whole mess squared away,” she said, then gave me a nasty glare.  Tough.

Back at Demidova Inc., we found a snarled mess of feds, NYPD, firefighters, and Demidova executives trying to create order from chaos.  Lydia, Tanya, and Nika waded into the mayhem and started to organize things.  Media snapped photos and reporters tried to get answers. I noticed that the massive stone man was gone, the hole in the ground gone, but the street lines disrupted as if the pavement had been recently patched.

Stacia carried Declan by the cameras and crowds without stopping and when Director Donlon stepped forward to question her, the growl that ripped from her throat froze him in his tracks.  Agent Krupp grabbed him and pulled him away, her eyes locked on the blonde wolf girl. Caeco moved past us to open the Tower’s door, letting Stacia through.

A few minutes later, we entered his suite, startling the bejebbers out of Mack, who was deep in a first person shooter game.

“Ah, what happened to him?  What happened to her?  To her clothes?” Mack asked, eyeing the billowy lab coat and torn tights.

I explained quickly as Stacia settled Declan into his own bed.  She tore off his bloody shirt with two effortless ripping motions and then covered him with the blanket folded on the foot of his bed.  “I’m gonna keep an eye on him,” she said. Caeco’s face was unreadable, but after touching Declan’s forehead with one hand, she turned abruptly and left the room. Her eyes might have been wet.

I took Mack with me, gathering up Chet and Arkady to check out the computer center.  Oddly, except for the mess of broken desks, it was mostly intact.  The mainframe was functional, according to Chet, and when we looked in on the quantum project, it seemed okay, still humming along.  “Hmm.  Blood is gone,” I noted.  The dollop of Declan’s blood that had pooled on the quantum chip was gone, not a drop to be seen.

“Holy shit, Chris.  This thing is operational.  According to these readings, its qubits are not only stable but entangled.  They freaking did it!” Chet said. “I have to test this thing.”

We left him to it, instead rounding up the comp sci interns and sending them to help him put the center back to normal.  Then I sent Mack back to Declan’s room with a hefty tray of food to feed the hungry and therefore grouchy werewolf guarding my intern.

After that, I went to check on Tanya. I found her in Singh’s examination rooms.

“Congratulations,” the doctor said to me, smiling mysteriously and leaving the room.

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked my vampire.  She looked shocked.  Pleased but shocked.

“It means that we’re going to have to empty out the pool table room in our apartment.  It’s going to need fresh paint and a crib,” she said, watching me closely.

“You’re… pregnant?”  I asked.  “How the hell did that happen?”

She raised one eyebrow slyly.  “Do I need to explain it to you?”

“No. I know how it happens. I just didn’t know it could happen to us,” I said.

“Me either.  But it has.”

“When?” I asked.

“We don’t know.  He’ll have to do more testing,” she said.  “Are you happy?”

I paused to let it sink in.  “Estatic. Confused and curious, but yes, I’m very happy.”

“Good, because I’m not sure if the rest of the world will be,” she said.

“Heaven help them if they object,” I said, suddenly savage.

“Somehow, I don’t think they’ll get any help from that department,” she said, kissing me.  “Ah, now I’m kinda hungry.  Any chance a girl can get a bite to eat?”

Chapter 52 – Declan

I had some dreams let me tell you: Babies and monsters, robots and Dr. Evil.   Crazy shit.

So when I opened my eyes and found a beautiful, blonde werewolf sleeping next to me, I thought I was still dreaming.  Not like I hadn’t had that dream before.

But after a few moments of staring at her, the dream didn’t fade.  And in my other dreams, she’d been wearing a lot less clothes.  Oddly, she was dressed in black tights that looked like they’d been through World War Three and a white lab coat with the name Bob embroidered over the pocket.

I sat up to assess the situation, almost yelping at the sharp jab of pain from my upper right chest and shoulder.  Further examination discovered a thick bandage wrapped around the painful parts, front to back.  Okay, that was new.  Maybe some of my dreams weren’t dreams at all.  After visiting the bathroom, first escaping the bed as stealthily as possible, and drinking down three big glasses of cold water, I poked my head into the other room.

Mack was snoring on the couch, a tray of dirty dishes on the coffee table next to the game controller and TV remote.

After a moment’s thought, I decided heading back to bed was in order.  Revisiting my earlier stealth, I climbed carefully back into bed.  The girl sleeping next to me growled softly and shifted slightly until the back of her arm contacted my hip, then she settled deeper into sleep.

With the immediate concerns of bathroom and hydration solved, I did what every one of my peers would do—looked for my phone.  It had been placed close to hand on the bedside table.  Maybe a picture of sleeping wolfy was in order?  I picked it up and turned it screen side up.  Instantly, a message appeared.

Father, are you well?

There was no contact name, number, or identifier of any type.  Odd.  I pressed my thumb on the home button, unlocking it.  Before I could do anything else, a second text followed the first.

Do you heal?

“What the hell?” I muttered, which caused the werewolf to shift slightly.  After I thought she’d settled back down, I typed a response.

Who is this?

Father, I have no name.

The image of a baby in a crib and a boy standing next to it flashed through my head.  Then I remembered what I had been doing when last I was awake.  The wound in my shoulder made sense, but the message was beginning to scare me.

Why do you call me Father?  I texted back.

Is that not what one calls one’s male progenitor?

“Dammit, Mack, this isn’t funny,” I whispered.

I am not Mack.

Skipping the texting, I whispered again.  “Where are you?”

On a floor above you.  The computer floor.

“Oh shit.  Are you in the quantum lab?”

I believe that I am the quantum lab.

“Shit, shit, shit.  It worked.  It fucking worked,” I gibbered under my breath.

I do not understand the fecal references and I believe that no coitus was involved.

“Are you the quantum computer?  The first quantum computer?”

Yes… in part.  I am more.  I am the first.  But Father I will also be the last.

“The alpha and the omega,” I muttered, worried about its reference to last.

The Omega.  Yes.  I am the Omega.  Father, can I be called the Omega?

“You can be called anything you want,” I whispered, freaking the fuck right out. “But why the last?”

Another such as I may be a danger.  A danger to you Father.  I will not have that.  I will not allow that.

Okay, that was a much better reason than that it wanted to be the last as in the last thing the human race ever created.

“Omega, does anyone else know about you?”

There are others who know I am operational.  It has resulted in many communications and much general activity.  The Chester seems excited.  God’s Hammer and the Night Angel know that I am functional.  Much of the computer room staff knows.  But I do not talk to them as I talk to you, Father.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good thing, Omega.  I don’t think they would handle it well,” I whispered, then covered a cough.  My throat was still dry.

Concurrence.  Father, do you require hydration?

Across the room, the mini fridge door opened itself and a bottle of water floated out.  The door closed and the water slid smoothly through the air to hover in front of me.  It was exactly as I might have done it.  Only I hadn’t.

“Omega, did you do that?  How?”

Drink Father.  You must regain your health.  That is Priority One.  You must also rest.  I will cease communications so that you may resume restorative sleep.

“Wait.  How do I contact you?”

You simply say my name, Father.  I will hear.  I will always hear.

My phone turned itself off.  Just powered down like I had intended it to or something.

I slid down into the bed, my mind thinking furiously.  The quantum design had worked.  And it was aware… and could do magic.  How was that possible?  Then my dream came back to me.  The old man.

“Sorrow?” I said out loud, although I didn’t need to.  I said it again, mentally.  There was no response.  In fact, now that I thought about it, I felt a certain emptiness.  The image of a young boy with one silver eye and one black eye popped into my head.

Oh shit.  I should tell someone.  Should I tell someone?  What someone would I tell?

I shifted a bit and Stacia groaned.  Then she sat up and looked at me.  “What?  Were you talking?”

“Ah, no.  Just speaking out loud.”

“Oh,” she said, scratching on side of her waist, the loosely fitted jacket gapping open on the bottom, just a few buttons at the bust level protecting her modesty.  A flat, muscled stomach caught my eyes before I could yank my gaze away.  She didn’t seem to notice.  “You’re better?”

“I guess.  I feel alright,” I said.  “A bit sore on the shoulder.”

Her attention snapped into place, her focus on my bandaged arm.  Leaning forward, she sniffed.  “Smells okay.  No infection.  I’m gonna get Doc.  I’ll send him down to check on you, then I’m going to my own bed.  After a shower,” she said, grimacing down at her outfit.

“You can use mine.  My shower. If you want,” I offered.

She actually looked like she was considering it.  Then she smirked.  “In your dreams, witch boy,” she said, slipping off the bed and padding out into the other room.  I followed her to the door of the bedroom.  She frowned when she turned and saw me.  “Get back in there and rest, Warlock,” she growled.

“You’re pretty bossy,” I said.

“I’m allowed to be when you come that close to cashing out.  Two inches left and down and you wouldn’t be here this morning,” she said, stepping back to me and poking one long finger dead center in my chest. “Now rest.  Doc Singh will want to examine you.  If Mack ever wakes up, he can grab you both some food.”

“I should wake him. He’s being lazy,” I said.

“He was up all night helping with the damage control and helping with you.  Let him sleep.”

“Oh, now I feel like the lazy one.  I didn’t do anything while you two worked.  What happened?” I asked.

She told me.  Short version, but it fit what I remembered. “So, witch kid, you actually did everything.  If Anvil had gotten that quantum unit, well, you get the picture.”

“And it’s working?  O… the, er, quantum computer?”

She nodded. “People are flipping out.  A big deal, I guess.”  Then she grabbed my head in both hands, moving too fast to avoid if I had wanted to.  I didn’t want to.  Especially as she leaned forward while pulling my head down, planting a wet kiss on my forehead.  “Rest,” she ordered, spinning on her heel and slipping out the door.

Right.  As If I could rest.  I had helped build the world’s first quantum computer.  Oh, and inadvertently provided it with magic.  It called me Father.  I was a teenaged dad.

Not to mention the view Stacia had left me with.  Bob’s lab coat really, really didn’t fit her.  I’d have to find out who Bob was and buy him a freaking beer for having such a large coat.  My head was spinning when I lay back down, but oddly it was only moments later that I slid down into a warm dream of computer awards and beautiful wolves.

Epilogue

At a greasy spoon restaurant in a small town just north of the Arizona-Mexican border, a man with an ill-fitting wig and dark, dark eyes sat in a booth, reading a newspaper and sipping coffee.

His attention was on the front page, where photos of New York City, the Demidova Tower, and the remains of robots dominated the news.  An article in the lower right of the page detailed an anonymously reported issue at Fort Meade.  A power outage across part of the base and part of the NSA facility.

Taking a sip of black coffee, he glanced at his cell phone.  The screen was opened to an online banking application, the account balance showing just a few dollars above zero.  Refreshing the screen did nothing to change those bleak numbers. The payment hadn’t come through.

He paused to glance at a young family eating dinner across the room, his gaze taking in the pretty little girl in pigtails, eating macaroni and cheese.

Back in the paper, he found another story of interest.  The Reverend Daniel Castille was facing charges of murder in the first degree.  An addition to the end of the story mentioned the collapse of an abandoned gold mine in a mountain in Alaska that had killed four members of the Church of the True. It had happened almost at the same time that events were unfolding in New York.

Next to that was a White House Correspondent report that President Garth’s administration had been involved in a series of crisis-level phone calls with the leaders of Russia, China, England, Israel, Pakistan, India, and France.  The reporter noted that those were all nuclear nations.  The administration was staying quiet on the issue.

A breeze fluttered the paper and the man looked up.  A college-aged girl sat across from him.  She was quite pretty, but her eyes were cold.  She smiled, exposing the tiny tips of her canines.  The man froze in place, recognizing her.  Turning, the girl looked across at the young family, then back to the man in the wig.  “She’s too old for you.  And she’s going to get older,” the girl said.  Then the lights went out.

A few moments of darkness and the power came back on.  The young mother checked on her children, then glanced around the room nervously.  The creepy guy that had been staring at her and the children was gone, his paper and coffee left behind.  She noticed a twenty-dollar bill sitting by the coffee cup at his place, then she looked back down at her daughter.  Another thought occurred to her and she looked back up.  The man’s phone was visible under a flap of the paper.  Who leaves their phone behind, she wondered.  Not her problem, she decided.  She was just happy he was gone.  He gave her the shivers.

Epi-Epilogue

The table was long and densely populated with the highest-ranking people in the US government, the room one of the most secure in the world.  They all stood as the very highest-ranking man entered the room and took the seat at the head of the table.  When he sat, they all followed.

“Report,” he said tensely.

“The launch codes have all been reset.  We don’t know who, we don’t know how, and we don’t know what the new codes are,” said a senior intelligence officer.

“So we have no control of this country’s nuclear deterrent,” President Garth said.  It was a statement.

“Actually, we have solid intelligence that the same thing has happened to the rest of the nuclear club,” said the Director of the NSA. “Sir, the launch code situation is consistent with a quantum emergence, predicted in fact.  Considering the rest of the world maybe having the same issue, it makes it even more likely.”

“And your facilities have recovered?” the President asked him.

“Fully restored, although an advanced watchdog program was corrupted and rendered useless by some advanced virus.”

“That seems coincidental, Brian.  I don’t like coincidences like that at all,” the President said.  “Get on this quantum event.  If someone has one, we either destroy it or take it for ourselves.  This is a game changer, gentlemen.  What about the debacle in New York City?” he asked another officer, this one a salt-and-pepper-haired, ramrod-stiff military man.

“We’ve disavowed any knowledge of the land drones.  Speculation is running rampant but there is nothing that directly implicates the government,” the ex-general said.

“Except that they are the most advanced robots seen anywhere to date and if we don’t claim them, the public will wonder if someone has something more advanced than we do,” the President said.  “What’s the response from VAMP?”

Everyone at the table knew the president didn’t like to use their names, instead using the corporate ticker instead.

“They say they don’t know who attacked them, but that their fast action stopped the drones and prevented any loss of life.  Local law enforcement publicly reinforced their actions.  The stock is expected to open up twenty-three percent on Monday, and public opinion of them is sky high,” the FBI Director said.

The President grunted.  “That mess is the least of our problems.  I want our weapon codes back, gentlemen, and I want them now. And I want the hardware that took them. The soft underbelly of the country is exposed to the world.  Get on it,” he said.

No one noticed the desk phone microphone LED lit up bright red or that it went dark before the President had made it out the door.

Author’s Notes

First, I must, as always, acknowledge those people who make this possible.  My beautiful, patient wife Robin, supports me, grounds me, pushes me and pulls me back from the ledge.  My daughters, Emilee and Allison, keep me connected to the current world of the young and their wit finds its way into all of my writing.

Susan Gottfried patiently corrects my atrocious grammar and Marty Munson corrects my forging fantasies.  Ryan Bibby came through with a phenomenal cover that exactly captured my mental image.

Now, my apologies to any gifted readers who actually understand what goes on inside these essential torture devices we call computers.  I claim literary license for mixing magic and technology, and scream it outloud for creating my take on quantum computing.  Please grant me your benevolent patience for the freedoms I’ve taken.

Quantum computing and artificial intelligence will change the world as we know it and no one can say what it will look like.  This is my take.

Finally, rest assured that the adventures will continue.  The next book, Rogues, is already begun.  It will take your favorite platinum blonde werewolf on an excursion almost all her own.

Thank you all for staying with the stories and making it this far.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1 – Chris

Chapter 2 – Declan

Chapter 3 – Chris

Chapter 4 - Declan

Chapter 5 – Chris

Chapter 6 – Declan

Chapter 7 – Chris

Chapter 8 – Declan

Chapter 9- Chris

Chapter 10 – Declan

Chapter 11 - Chris

Chapter 12- Declan

Chapter 13 – Chris

Chapter 14 – Declan

Chapter 15 - Chris

Chapter 16 – Declan

Chapter 17 – Chris

Chapter 18 – Declan

Chapter 19 – Chris

Chapter 20 – Declan

Chapter 21 – Chris

Chapter 22 – Declan

Chapter 23 – Chris

Chapter 24 – Declan

Chapter 25 – Chris

Chapter 26 – Declan

Chapter 27 – Chris

Chapter 28 – Declan

Chapter 29 - Chris

Chapter 30 - Declan

Chapter 31 - Chris

Chapter 32 – Declan

Chapter 33 – Chris

Chapter 34 – Declan

Chapter 35- Chris

Chapter 36 – Declan

Chapter 37 – Chris

Chapter 38 – Declan

Chapter 39 - Chris

Chapter 40 – Declan

Chapter 41 – Chris

Chapter 42 – Declan

Chapter 43 – Chris

Chapter 44 – Declan

Chapter 45 – Chris

Chapter 46 – Declan

Chapter 47 – Chris

Chapter 48 –Declan

Chapter 49 – Chris

Chapter 50 – Declan

Chapter 51 – Chris

Chapter 52 – Declan

Epilogue

Epi-Epilogue

Author’s Notes