Executable

A Novel from the Demon Accords

By

John Conroe

Dedicated to the Fans of the Demon Accords – here’s another viewpoint

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 fictiously.

Copyright © 2013 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

Cover art by Ryan Bibby.

Chapter 1 - Declan

Only the crunch and ping of loose gravel between the tires and the asphalt of our parking lot announced the arrival of the big silver car; otherwise, it was dead silent.  I pulled back slightly behind the edge of the big green dumpster that sits at the end of the building, interested to observing the unknown car but not wanting to be busted as some creepy loser kid. ‘Cause, you know… the truth hurts.

At first, the sun glinting on the windshield blocked all view of the occupants but as the car, an older model Buick, rolled to a stop in the shadow of my aunt’s restaurant, they became visible.  Two females; the driver young, with short brown hair and brown eyes, the other an older version with the same brown hair but she had a different eye shape.  A mother and daughter, I decided, seeing enough similarities to form that opinion.

The driver stretched her neck for a moment, like she had just wrestled the heavy car for miles.  I figured she had, as the motor wasn’t running.  Most likely, she had coasted down Macomb hill, fighting through the lack of power steering to make the winding turns.  That sharp left curve in front of Macomb cemetery a quarter mile up the hill must have been a bitch, I thought.

Her head came up and she looked around the parking lot.  I jumped back behind the dumpster, relatively certain I hadn’t been spotted but now slightly ashamed that I was lurking there at all.  Pretty sad that my most exciting work break was taking out the garbage and spying on innocent travelers.  The day was just starting, but all I had to look forward to was a full Sunday of dishes to wash before tackling three pages of Calc homework, then collapsing into bed for maybe six hours before continuing my fascinating life as a high school senior at Castlebury High. 

Entering through the back of the kitchen, I dodged around the morning cook, Chet, who was orchestrating eggs, hash browns, bacon, and sausage on the big commercial griddle while humming along to a Dave Matthews song playing on the radio.  I was careful to avoid bumping him as he could get verbally abusive if you interfered with his cooking rhythm, and while his anger was short-lived and easily ignored, it was just too early to listen to any crap.

Just outside the kitchen, floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with dishes faced a wall of stainless steel, high-temperature dishwashing equipment and long metal countertops covered with dirty plates, mugs, and flatware.  My kingdom. 

I was halfway through offloading and stacking a rack of plates when one of the waitresses, Emilee, pushed open the swinging doors from the dining room and looked my way.  “Hey, Toothpick.  Your aunt wants you out here,” she said before picking up a fresh pot of coffee and heading back into the Sunday morning fray.

I followed her out, wiping my hands on my apron, curious as to what my aunt wanted with me.

The owner of Rowan West was standing at a small table talking to two women, the same two women from the Buick out front.  At first, I thought that the young one had busted me for spying on them and complained to my aunt.  But the rational side of my brain dismissed that as paranoia.  Let’s be honest.  Who was going to even notice me spying in the first place?

“Ah, Declan, dear, would you be so kind as to help these wayward ladies out?  It seems they’ve a spot of auto trouble and I’ve gone ahead and volunteered your services,” Aunt Ashling said in her lilting brogue.

Up close, I decided that the two women were definitely mother and daughter.  Same brown hair, same facial features, but different eyes.  The mother’s were gray, while her teenage daughter’s were light brown. The girl’s were also almond shaped, uplifted at the corners, giving her face a slightly exotic cast.  Mom was tan with freckles while her daughter had a very light brown skin color that spoke of a more mixed-up ethnicity.  Both watched me with frowns and narrowed eyes.

“That’s okay Ms. O’Carroll, we can just call a local garage,” the mother said quickly.

“Sure, and you can be overspending and getting under-repaired, if you know what I mean.  The only lads that are open on a Sunday hereabouts aren’t the trustworthy sort. If he can’t fix it, he can at least be sure to dig out the problem for ya.  Trust me on this one, dear. Declan is a bit of a wizard with cars and computers,” my aunt responded.  I winced a bit at the wizard part.

“What does it do?” I asked, thinking some verbal diagnostics might move things along.

“It doesn’t run,” the girl said, her expression flat, eyes hard.

I felt my eyebrows raise themselves, matching the rise in my temper.  My aunt was watching me, and she suddenly laughed. 

“You walked right into that one,” she said with a pat on my back. 

After a moment, I had to laugh, too.  I had, in fact, set myself up, although from the girl’s expression, she hadn’t meant it as a joke.  Nonetheless, my aunt had reset my attitude, so I tried a different tack.

“Ma’am, I’m really, really good with computers – desktop, laptop, tablet, or even car computers, so if nothing else, I can find out the problem so you don’t get ripped off.  And if I don’t look at your car, then I have to go back to dishwashing,” I explained to the mom, pleading with my eyes.

Both the mom and my aunt laughed. The girl just kept frowning.  Oh well, if I had fifty dollars for every girl who looked at me like I was a freak, I’d be richer than Gates.

“I guess I should just say thanks and let you have a look,” the mother said.  “But you will be careful, right?”

“Yes ma’am.  If I can’t fix it, I’ll back right off, Mrs…” I trailed off, realizing I didn’t know her name.

“Oh gracious.  Where are me manners? Declan, this is Rachel Williams and her daughter, Sarah,” Aunt Ashling said.

“Nice to meet you.  If I can borrow your keys, I’ll just take a look,” I said, patting my right jeans pocket to double check that I had my chalk.

“I have them.  I’ll go with you,” the girl, Sarah, said, her expression still guarded.

I turned and walked out the front, past the gift shop area which held a bizarre combination of Vermont maple and cheese products mixed with spiritualist supplies like incense, crystals, tarot cards, amulets, and herbs of all kinds.  Somehow, it all worked, although most of the New Age stuff was sold via the Rowan West website that I had set up for my aunt.

The girl was quiet as we headed toward the car, moving almost silently behind me.  Something about her manner was creeping me out.  The place between my shoulder blades was itchy, like I could feel her staring at it.  Shaking the feeling off, I studied the car.

“Buick Regal.   Looks older?”

“Twelve years, but low mileage,” she said, pushing the unlock button on the key fob.  She opened the driver’s door and slid in before I could, inserting the key and turning the ignition.  The dash lit up like a Christmas tree, but the engine didn’t make a sound.  Not even the click of a bad starter.

I dropped into a squat and reached around her leg to pull the hood release, moving slowly, as I didn’t want her to be more on edge than she was.  Although she seemed relaxed—just watchful.

Lifting the hood, I scanned the engine for any obvious problems, but it wasn’t going to be that easy.  Taking my trusty chalk from my pocket, I drew Cen on my left palm and placed my hand on top of the engine.

“Try it again,” I yelled to Sarah.

“Why?  It won’t start,” she responded in a flat tone. 

“Humor me.”

Through the gap between the bottom of the hood and the frame of the car, I could just see her hand move as she twisted the key.  Eyes closed, I relaxed and listened.  Ah.

She was already sliding out of the driver’s seat as I stepped around the front of the car, like she had been coming to check on me.  She looked into the engine compartment, maybe to see if I had stolen the whole thing.  I took the opportunity to slide into the driver’s seat and look over the ignition switch, letting my left hand casually fall on top of the steering column.

I was getting back out when Sarah came back around, eyebrows raised in question.

“Let me guess.  You were driving along and the engine just shut off?” I asked.

She nodded.

“I think you’ve got a faulty security system.  It keeps thinking you’re trying to steal your own car, so it shuts everything down.  Probably a loose wire in the ignition switch, which is jiggly as hell.”

“How could you know that?  You don’t have any diagnostic equipment.”

“I didn’t say that I was certain… I said I think it’s the security system, but if you know better, that’s fine,” I snapped back at her. 

“If I knew better, I wouldn’t even be here, would I?” her expression more puzzled than sarcastic.  She was kind of weird.  Cute, but weird.  She was wearing loose-fitting jeans, a worn American Eagle t-shirt, no makeup, and running shoes.  Vermont has all kinds of girls: hippie girls, fashionista girls, sporty athletic girls, save-the-world girls, brainiac girls, you name it.  She must fit in there somewhere, but at that moment, I couldn’t figure out where.

Back inside, we found my aunt and Sarah’s mother sipping coffee and chatting while Mrs. Williams looked over a menu.

“Any luck?” my aunt asked.

I repeated my theory about the security system and the possibility of a loose wire, although it wasn’t a theory.  It was flat-out fact.

“Can you fix it?” Mrs. Williams asked.  She was a little intense.  Sharp eyes set in a thin face.  She was dressed in hiking pants, athletic shirt, and walking shoes.  She, too, lacked any makeup and had a short, no-nonsense haircut. Absolutely no concession to beauty or fashion. Her build was lean, a runner’s body, with no spare flesh.

“Yes ma’am.  I think I have a pretty good chance, although you’ll want a dealership service department to take a look when you get to your final stop.”

“They’re staying here in town, Declan.  Mrs. Williams has taken a job at the University in Burlington,” my aunt said.  She always called it the University in Burlington, rather than University of Vermont or UVM, which is what most of us called it.  I studied my aunt for a moment.  She was intrigued by these two, and I could sense her protective streak coming out.  Hence my technical services being volunteered.

“Well, I’ll just grab my tools, and I think it’s a quick fix.  About as long as it takes you to have breakfast.”

In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have been that specific about the duration of the job.  Even a mechanic wouldn’t commit to that close a time guess.  My aunt’s eyes flared a little, but she said nothing, instead asking the mother and daughter for their breakfast orders.

“Oh, Caeco, they have a Woodsman’s special that you might like,” Mrs. Williams suggested to her daughter. 

My aunt and I exchanged a glance, then looked at them curiously.  The girl looked pained and was quick to explain.

“My middle name.  Mother uses it as a nickname.”

Mrs. Williams looked up, taking only a second to realize we were talking about her name change.

“Yes, my own pet name.”

I had trouble picturing this lady with a pet anything.  The operative word here was cold.

I left to get my tools, happy for an extended break from dishwashing, not really caring if the people I was helping were a little weird.  Hard to throw stones at that glass house.

My skills aren’t really of the automotive set, although I am naturally mechanical.  I’m more of a computer and technology guy, but I’ve done enough work on my ’72 Toyota Land Cruiser to know my way around the inside of a car.  The steering column was the slowest part, as I didn’t dare harm the old car’s cosmetic appeal in any way.  The pair watching me through the window made me more than a little nervous. 

Once I had the plastic housing apart, the rest went pretty quick.  Tighten one loose wire and a spot of solder to keep it in place, and the meat of the repair was done.  The Buick started right up, the six-cylinder engine surprisingly smooth.  Another fifteen minutes of wrestling the column housing back together with a small amount of cursing for lubrication, and I was done.

Mrs. Williams was looking through a Burlington Free Press, an empty bowl of oatmeal pushed to one side.  Aunt Ashling’s special cinnamon shaker caught my eye, tucked in among the salt, pepper, and regular table sugar dispensers.  That was interesting.

The girl, Sarah or Caeco or what have you, was polishing off a Woodsman special; three eggs, hash browns, four pieces of toast, bacon, and a short stack of pancakes.  It was my personal favorite, but it was a lot of food.  Wiping up the last of the egg yolk and maple syrup with a corner of toast, she made it look easy.  She was five-three, maybe five-four at best, and she’d just crammed in a two–thousand-calorie meal.

I dropped the keys on the edge of the table, but my aim was just a mite off.  The keys slipped toward the floor, and I automatically went to catch them.  Instead of metal, my hand encountered warm flesh.  I was holding the girl’s wrist, and she was holding the keys.  I let go like I had touched a wall outlet, the feeling of her flesh shocking to my own.

“Fast,” was all that I managed to say, obviously not referring to my wits.  My reflexes are pretty good, but she had beaten me to the catch by a country mile.  She regarded me for a moment before pocketing the keys and picking up her glass of chocolate milk.

“You play any sports?” I asked, making no progress in rebuilding my reputation for witty repartee.

She shook her head, adding, “Homeschooled.”

Which explained a whole bunch of things.  “Declan, could you get your aunt for us?  I think it’s time we settled our debt and headed on.  Lots to do today,” Mrs. Williams said.

I nodded and left the two to head back into the kitchen.  Time to get back to the stacks of dishes and away from the customers. 

“Aunt Ash, your new friends are asking for their bill,” I said.  My aunt was sipping a cup of tea and peering out the kitchen window at the big Rowan tree that gives our place its name.  She nodded and headed out, a gleam of curiosity in her eyes.

I finished the half-rack of clean dishes and was just starting a fresh batch when my aunt came back with a tray full of dirty dishes.  She set the whole thing down and then picked up the cinnamon shaker with a clean dish rag, crooking her finger at me to follow.

Safely tucked into her microscopic office, she used the towel to hold both ends of the shaker while she twisted it apart.  Hand carved from oak, the shaker was a little larger than a can of soda.  The top two-thirds held the cinnamon-sugar mixture and the bottom third held twenty-four miniature discs of wood, each cut from the same tree branch, the bark still on.  In fact, they had all come from a fresh-cut limb of the Rowan tree outside our dining room window.

Each disc had a separate figure carved into its face—a rune.

“We’ll draw five, we will. I’ll draw first, as I was first to meet the lasses, then you draw the next three, then I’ll pick last, got it?” she asked.  This was her area of expertise and she knew far more about it than I, so I would normally never question her, but I had a piece of information that she didn’t.

“Actually, I saw them coast into the parking lot when I was taking out the trash.  Not sure if that counts?”

“Did you lay eyes on the both of them then, or just the auto?”

Feeling my face flush, I nodded as I answered, “I saw them both.  Never saw the car before, so I was curious,” I added.  She studied me with bright blue eyes that matched my own, nodding after a moment.

“That changes it.  You draw one, I the next, then two for you and one last for me own.”

I closed my eyes and settled my mind, breathing in slowly through my nose and out through my mouth.  When I had wrestled my unruly brain into a modest semblance of calm, I reached my left hand into the container of rune cover discs.  As my fingers brushed the chips of wood, I pulled up the fresh memory of seeing the girl and her mother through the windshield of their car.  Seemingly of their own accord, my fingers found a tiny branch segment and picked it up.  I set it down on my aunt’s desktop before us and contemplated the rune scored into its surface.  It had an upside down mutated F on it, the twin horizontal lines jutting up at a diagonal rather than straight.

“Feoh reversed. Slavery or bondage,” Aunt Ashling intoned.  She reached into the wooden shaker bottom and pulled another rune.  It looked like a poorly drawn, lower-case p, with the vertical line extending up too high.  It was backward as well.

“The Thorn, also reversed.  Danger,” she said before giving me a nod.

I pulled out an R with sharply drawn angular lines.  It was right side up.

“Rad—a journey,” she said with a sharp nod to herself. 

My next rune looked like an hourglass that was missing its top line and turned on its side like a C. “Peor—female, hidden change.”

Aunt Ashling’s final draw was a simple line, an I.

“Is, also called Ice.  Treachery,” she said, her tone dropping into instructor mode.  I already knew this, but I nodded anyway, waiting for her to pull her reading together.

“These two are on the run… fleeing captivity.  True danger stalks them.  The girl has a secret, or maybe she is the secret.  Hard to know. They’ve journeyed far,” she said, still studying the five runes lined up in front of us.

“The car’s plates were from Colorado, and there wasn’t a whole lot in it,” I noted.

She turned her head abruptly, auburn tresses swinging around her face as she locked her gaze onto mine.

“Make no mistake, Declan me lad, these ladies are not fleeing some abusive husband or father.  There is something uncanny about them, something more than a wee bit off,” she warned.

“I touched the girl’s wrist, Aunt Ash, by accident.  I hadn’t wiped off my hand and still had Cen drawn on it.  I got the weirdest flash from her, real short and sharp.  It wasn’t the sort of thing I’ve ever gotten off a person, more like the feel of tech.”

She cocked her head to one side, eyebrows up in question.

“I can’t really explain it.  Kinda like a computer or smartphone, but not.  I don’t know… just weird.”

She looked worried.  “Declan, the girl’s to start at your school tomorrow.  I think you should keep an eye on her and maybe, if she needs it, help her out,” she said, sounding a bit uncertain.

“Help her out?  With what?  How much help? And just who are you and what have you done with my aunt?” I asked, blown away by the direction she was taking.

She smiled a thin, pressed-lip kind of smile.  “I know I’ve hounded ye to keep your head down and all.  But when we’re called to help, then help we must!”

Despite her constant preaching about flying under the radar, I knew my aunt had used her own gifts to help innocents from time to time.  It was how she had met her partner, Darci.  She had found a lost boy twelve years ago who would most likely have died of exposure to harsh Vermont weather. His searchers had been looking in all the wrong areas.  Since then, she had helped a number of other times, working through Darci and her fellow deputies.  A couple of missing college kids on a hike, a child kidnapped by her estranged father, and one runaway all owed their safety to my aunt, who had avoided any and all recognition of her contributions. 

But she had been very steadfast in hiding me and my talents. I’ve never been allowed to use my true abilities, so really, what’s the point in having them?  Now, if I was being directed to help, she was getting more from this reading than she was telling me.

“Declan, me lad, as cliché as it sounds I feel something coming… and it feels like a storm,” she said, looking up from the five rounds of wood.

Readings were her thing and she was very good at them, but storms, at least certain storms, were my thing and in that respect of my Craft, I had no equal.

Chapter 2-Miseri

Twenty-six-hundred miles and three time zones to the

southwest, Felix Martinez glanced at the clock in the lower left of his computer monitor and noted the late hour.  These rush jobs always seemed to turn into all-nighters.  He finished filling in the data fields for the California DMV license form, then saved the page.  After waiting a long moment for the website to update, he noted with satisfaction that an official California driver’s license was now entered in the name he had been given to work with.

Setting up false identification was a constantly evolving business.  Some parts involved identity theft, some bribing low-paid government workers for their access codes, some involved researching names and social securities of people dead for decades, and lastly, there was always a little fiction writing to give a decent backstory.

A loud noise in the outer office caught his ear.  It was quickly followed by another thud.  Felix grabbed the 9mm semi-automatic that clung to a powerful magnet under his desk and moved to the doorway of his office.  Opening the door, he looked into the reception area of what was ostensibly a tax preparation and bookkeeping business.  A thirty-something-year-old woman was standing at the reception counter, smiling at him.  Dressed in jeans and a light-colored blouse, she appeared attractive and pleasant, but something about her didn’t seem right.  Felix stepped through into the outer office, automatically looking to the left where his assistant, Manny, should have been.  At the same time, he tucked the gun behind his right leg, hiding it from the woman’s view. 

Manny wasn’t at his desk, but after shifting stance slightly, Felix suddenly spotted a brown, shoe-clad foot on the floor behind the chair and desk.  Alarmed, he started to move, but a steel band closed about his right wrist and squeezed hard enough to break bone.

Confused and in enormous pain, Felix felt his arm hauled over his head, pulling him up on his toes.  At the same time, he became aware of a huge, looming presence at his side.  The person holding him plucked the gun from his powerless hand and swung his body to face the woman.

Still smiling pleasantly, she nodded at him as if they were meeting for lunch.  “Hi, Felix.  I’m Miseri, and my associate is Clay.  We have questions for you regarding some recent clients,” she said.

Barely able to speak through the pain in his arm and wrist, Felix still managed to bring up the most important information he had.

“I never meet my clients.  I only do pieces of their overall identification package, not the whole thing.  I doubt I can help you,” he said, his mind racing through everything he could do to survive this.

“Oh, I’m certain you can help us.  I only need a few bits of information,” she said sweetly, pulling a long, thin dagger from behind her back. “In fact, I’m certain you’re going to be more help than you realize,” she finished.

An hour and seven minutes later, the woman who called herself Miseri left the small, one-story building on the outskirts of Phoenix, her huge companion at her back. The sun was starting its climb and promised to provide a full day of legendary Arizona heat.

Walking unhurriedly toward a silver Honda Accord, she spoke over her shoulder.  “Clay, I will meet you later, after I check in.  Be a dear and clean that up back there.”

The silent giant nodded and moved back into the building, pulling several small, rectangular black objects from his messenger bag as he did.

Miseri continued her nonchalant stroll but stopped suddenly when she detected movement at the mouth of an alley.  It was only a cat, a kitten really, ginger-colored and very thin.  The tiny creature stared up at the woman, shaking in hunger.  It mewed, but the cry was almost silent.

“Oh little hunter!  You’ve fallen on hard times,” the woman said, squatting down to rub the kitten’s head.  The tiny predator butted her other hand with his head, then licked a small red spot from the back of her hand.  “Thank you, little one!  I must have missed that drop.  It spatters so, but then, I imagine you know that already.”

The woman came to a decision, scooping up the cat and continuing on her way.  “You will come with me.  But what to call you?”

The kitten didn’t struggle but instead began to knead the shoulder he was pressed against, his sharp claws easily penetrating the woman’s blouse.

“Oh, that’s it!  You will be Talon,” she said, keyfobbing her car door.  Climbing into the late model Honda, the woman deposited the small feline on the seat next to her, then carefully buckled her seatbelt before driving away.

Behind her, the small building she had just left suddenly blossomed into a near-silent ball of harsh white light, the thermite and white phosphorus incendiaries hot enough to melt brick and bone, but she barely noticed.  Instead, she was dialing a number on her smartphone.

“Central,  this is Miseri.  The name is Williams.  First names are Rachel and Sarah. The source had little further information.”

“Confirmed, Agent Misericord.  You and Agent Claymore are to await further orders.”

“Just let me know when you get a hit,” she replied.

“In the last five seconds, we’ve already gotten seventy-seven returns from those names, and the search is still running.  We will filter and advise. Clear?”

“Clear, Central, but under no circumstances should your watchers approach the target.  That cat has serious claws,” she said, hanging up the phone.  “That gives us plenty of time to get you some food, Talon.”

The tiny orange cat purred and settled on the car seat, its half-lidded eyes watching its new human protector.  The car continued away from the fiercely burning building as sirens rose in volume across the sprawling city.

Chapter 3- Declan

Ah, Monday mornings at Castlebury High.  The noise, the confusion, the sullen glares, the gossipy girls, clowning boys, and all those oh, so public displays of affection.  What joy to look forward to.

I parked my Toyota in the spot that was fast becoming its usual place, the back of the Senior parking lot in the shade of an old oak.  September in Vermont is still capable of hot days, and I loathe getting into a stifling car.  Plus, it keeps my Beast far from the popular crowd’s cars.  No use tempting fate.  Most of the school would leave my car alone, but there are a few, a small number of individuals whose mental capacity is so low that they probably view common sense as a super power.  One or two of those might fall prey to peer pressure or might attempt to show off for the higher-status kids.  It’s happened before, although not for quite some time.

The last incident was about a year ago, when I had just gotten my car back from the body shop, which is about the time that Rory started to call it the Beast.  The Junior car lot is a bit more secluded, and in my excitement over the metallic green paint that gleamed over every inch of my rebuilt Cruiser, I foolishly thought Junior year would be different. 

Colin Sefert, acting no doubt on a suggestion of Trey Johnson’s, had showered my car with a full dozen eggs.  He showed a little cunning in that he did it during a fire drill, when everyone was crowded at the front of the building.  I had known something was up when Rory and I crossed the lot at the end of the day and the whole popular gang was hanging around, trying to act nonchalant.   They had laughed long and hard at the look on my face when I saw the crushed eggshells and yellow yolks all over the Cruiser.  When all the parking lot lights suddenly turned on in the bright daylight, they had fled the scene, still laughing, but a few of them seriously spooked.  Trey was the last to leave, with his girlfriend, Jessica Connors.  Shaking his head in mock dismay, he still couldn’t hide a tiny smirk.  Jessica, on the other hand, looked truly mortified, which made me wonder at her choice of friends for maybe the six hundredth time.

Of course, Colin, being a cretin, hadn’t really thought about the fact that the kid who fixes most of the school’s computers would be able to access the security camera footage.  After that, Colin began to have cell phone trouble.  Quite a bit, actually.  His expensive smartphone failed rather spectacularly, losing all his photos, contacts, and favorite apps in the middle of English class, which I happened to share with him.  So did the next three replacement phones, almost as soon as he got them—and all in the same English class, where I got to watch.  I heard that when his family’s cell plan had started charging full price for replacements, his father made him use his little sister’s old phone, a much older model that had been lovingly decorated with rhinestones and flower stickers.  Never actually saw him use it, though.

My car was left alone for the rest of the year.

“Another day in Paradise,” Rory Tessing said as he climbed out of the passenger side of the Cruiser.  It was a bit rigorous for him, as he’s only a hair over five feet tall and built on the slim side of gaunt.

“Awesome,” I agreed.

Inside, we split up, heading to our lockers, which were half a school apart.  Rounding a corner, I saw a single figure standing in the middle of the corridor, kids swirling around her as she studied the rows of lockers.

“Having trouble?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

The girl from the restaurant, Sarah, looked up, frowning.  She was wearing the same jeans and running shoes as the day before, a long-sleeved black t-shirt that had Terratex, Inc. emblazoned in white letters across the back, and absolutely no makeup. 

“These lockers do not appear to be laid out in any organized manner,” she said. 

I laughed.  “They installed the lockers in blocks two years ago, and the contractors mixed them up.  By the time they figured out something was wrong, school was due to start and they just left them that way.  What number do you have?”

“B2233,” she said, frowning even more at my explanation.

I thought about that for a moment, then led her around the corner, where the lockers started at B2100, and over one wing more to where the B2200s were.  “Instead of putting them in sequentially, they put each block in a separate wing before going back and installing the next batches.”

“That’s absurd,” she said, looking offended. 

I laughed again. “Welcome to the backend of nowhere.”  

She frowned again, then moved to her locker and dialed the combination without looking at her papers, opening it on the first try.

“Do you need help figuring out where your classes are?” I asked, thinking I would be helpful.

“Do I look like a complete moron? I saw the school map, I know where all the rooms are,” she said, her voice sharp.

“Whoa there.  Just asking.  Have a nice day,” I replied, locking down the words I really wanted to say.

I left her and headed to my own locker, trying to rein in my temper.  Kids in the hallway took one look at my face and veered quickly out of my path – except one girl who deliberately stepped in front of me.

She was arguably the hottest girl in the Senior Class and captain of the cheerleading teams… all of them. 

“Declan, you alright?  You look pissed,” she commented.  Not many people would ask me that.

“Hi, Jessica. Just having a morning.  What can I do for you?” I asked.  She smiled, and I lost some of my anger.  Jessica Connors has always had that effect on me despite the fact that I had no shot with her.

“My dad bought me a new iPad and it’s not synching with my Cloud.  Would you take a look at it?” she asked, holding out the offending tablet, which was sporting a light blue cover.

“Sure Jess.  Same passwords?” I asked, taking the tablet.

“Yup.  Thanks, D.”

I nodded and headed past her and her flock of cheer girls.  Behind me, one of the girls, Chloe Bledsoe, piped up loud enough for me to hear.  “You let him know your passwords?”

“Of course.  Declan does all my tech stuff for me.  But really, Chloe. Do you think he even needs them?”

“Yeah, there is that,” her friend agreed.

My first class of the day was Calc.  Despite my awesome skills with computers and technology, I suck at advanced math, so I got to start my day with my worst class.  At least Rory shared this one with me, and the little brainiac could help me with my homework in study hall.

My oldest friend was hunched over his textbook, his thin shoulder blocking the text.  I snuck up behind him and leaned down close.  Pitching my voice low, I rumbled, “What’s this, Mr. Tessing?  Pornography?”  He jumped upright and I reached under his arm to snag the magazine picture he had been obsessing over.  Torn from a tabloid, it was a rather revealing photo of a young Hollywood starlet in a skimpy bikini.

“Asshole!” he said, color already returning to his face.  Then he looked over my shoulder and his eyes widened.  Rory is a sucky actor, so I had a mild moment of panic as I spun around. 

“Ah, hi Mr. Crest.”

“Ah, Mr. O’Carrol.  Just the student I was looking for.  The Smartboard is acting up again.  Perhaps you’d be so kind as to take a look at it for me.  Oh, and give Mr. Tessing back his pornography,” he said.

Calc might suck, but Dan Crest was a pretty chill teacher.  Oddly enough, although he was obviously good at advanced math, he had issues with the school tech on a regular basis.  About a quarter of my grade was probably extra credit for helping him with his computer.

“Sure thing, Mr. Crest.  Just let the master at it.”

“Masturbator is more like it,” Rory said under his breath.  I leaned closed and slipped his eye candy photo back onto his book.  “He was talking to me, not you… Mr. Bator.”

I can’t go around drawing runes on my hands all day without people noticing, but I always have a few choice ones drawn on the backs of my class notebooks, and I dragged the one with Cen, which is the rune of knowledge, on it to the front of the room.

Mr. Crest was about to tell me what the Smartboard had been doing wrong when the new girl walked in.

“Hello.  New here?” He smiled at her.

“Yes.  I’m Sarah Williams,” she said, her expression bland.

“And do you have a slip for me from the office?” he asked.

She looked puzzled.

“Little tear offs at the bottom of your schedule,” I offered, meeting her eyes for a moment before getting back to the desktop computer that was networked to the Smartboard.

She quickly found the slip, ripped it off, and handed to Crest, who directed her to an open seat.

“We’ll be having a quiz today, Sarah, but you can sit this one out till you get caught up,” he told her.  The class groaned at the quiz part.

“Actually, Mr. Crest, I would prefer to take the quiz anyway.  I’ve had some calculus before,” she said.

“Wow, that’s the spirit.  Okay then, why don’t you get settled and we’ll get started as soon as Mr. O’Carroll gets us back on track.”

“Done,” I said, getting up from his desk.  The new girl’s distraction had given me free rein, and the problem had been easy to solve once I knew the issue.  Internal software conflict with two programs – both photo management – fighting for dominant position. 

“Alrighty then.  Here are the problems for the quiz.  Show all your work.  Go ahead and start when you’re ready,” Crest said as I slipped back into my seat and pulled out my calculator.

The smartboard now showed eight problems.

Sarah was sitting three rows over and a couple seats ahead, right in my field of vision.  She pulled out paper and pencil and started to work quickly through the quiz.  She didn’t have a calculator.  It wasn’t slowing her down.

Forty-two minutes later, I took my paper up to Crest.  I was second to last.  He was already grading some of the early papers.  Sarah had been done first, followed quickly by Rory.  I could see both their papers and the grades they got.

“How’d ya do?” Rory asked as I sat back down.  I shrugged.  Certainly not as well as him or the new girl.

“You got a hundred.  New girl got a ninety-seven.”

He fist pumped.  “Still the Boss!”

“Yeah but she didn’t use a calculator,” I replied, bursting his bubble.

“What?  No way!  You can’t do that stuff in your head.”

“Way,” I said.

Ahead and to my right, the girl in question raised her head and glanced our way, almost as if she’d heard us from across the room and over the voices of our classmates.  Her eyes met mine, narrowed a bit, and then looked away.

Aunt Ashling’s word popped into my head… uncanny.

I saw her again in English, but we didn’t acknowledge each other, and we were seated on opposite sides of the room.  Another quiz, but English is one of my stronger subjects, so I knew I had aced it.

When lunch finally came, I found Rory already at our table in the back corner of the cafeteria trading Chuck Norris jokes with Jonah Patel.  As tall as Rory was short, Jonah was brainy like Rory, but while he was also on the skinny side, he was a naturally gifted athlete, a standout on the school’s soccer team.

“Chuck Norris counted to infinity—twice,” Jonah said.

“Chuck Norris can cut through a hot knife with butter,” Rory shot back.

The table’s third occupant, Candace Ricci, ignored their sad humor, keeping her attention on whatever today’s flavor of poetry was.  Also recognized as one of Castlebury High’s brightest, Candace was our little group’s champion club joiner.  She was in the Debate Club, Math Club, Environmental Club, Robot Club, Science Team, Spanish Club, Writers Club, and of course, the Poetry Club.  As a seventh grader, she had published her first book, a children’s story in both English and Spanish that was currently in use by many teachers across the country.  Despite her Italian last name, her mother was from Puerto Rico and she grew up with Spanish as a second language. The royalties from that little story were going to pay her way through college.

“Chuck Norris is the reason Waldo is hiding,” Jonah responded.

“Ghosts sit around the campfire and tell Chuck Norris stories,” Rory responded, but his attention was now on my lunch bag.

I saw Sarah enter the room from the lunch line, holding her tray while scanning for a place to sit. 

I’ve only ever gone to Castlebury, but I’ve been told that lunch is the hardest part of starting at a new school.  Some kids even thought that swimming through a shark-filled tank might be less scary.

The junior hippies of America crowd ignored her, while the potheads eyed her like she was a narc.  The athletes and cheerleaders smirked and snickered to themselves as she walked through the tables and the nerdy suckup kids all just kept their heads down and made no eye contact. Wisely, she turned away from the fashionista girls before they could mock her clothing choices.

I waved to her.  A frown flickered across her face, but there were no other options, so she headed our way.  My three companions looked from her to me, questions written in their expressions.

“Hey, we’ve got an empty seat,” I said when she got closer.  I introduced the others as she sat down.  She nodded back at them, poker face in place, and then got down to eating.  I noticed that she had way more food than most girls.  Scratch that: way more food than most three girls.  Her tray was loaded.  Two sandwich wraps, a bag of chips, an apple, banana, a brownie, a chocolate cupcake with white frosting, and two cartons of milk.  She ate like it was her job—head down and machine-like.

“Where are you from, Sarah?” Jonah asked after exchanging a raised eyebrow with the rest of us.

She lifted her head, pausing her chewing to answer around a mouth full of what appeared to be chicken salad in a sundried tomato wrap.  “Colorado.  South of Denver.”

She wasn’t even slightly dainty in her manners, more… guylike.

“Parents change jobs or something?” he asked, gamely trying to create a conversation.

“Yeah,” she answered, flicking her eyes from his to mine before dropping them to her tray.

Jonah looked at her for a moment, clearly at a loss, before looking at me and mouthing what the fuck?  I shrugged and opened my lunch bag.  Jonah gave the girl one more glance before turning his attention to my bag.  Rory was already focused on it.

I pulled a recycled cardboard takehome box from the bag, the words Rowan West in raised imprint on the top of it.  Inside was today’s culinary delight.

“What ya got?” Rory asked.

“Looks to be a Black Forest ham, Swiss cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, sliced apple, and honey mustard sandwich on oatmeal bread.  A Granny Smith apple, a Stewart’s Orange Crème soda, and some of her homemade chips.  Dammit, no cookies,” I answered.

Sarah had paused in her eating to watch my unveiling.  She looked from my lunch to my eyes, pulling her head back and tilting it to one side.

“One of the many job perks of being a restaurant dishwasher.  My aunt or whatever chef is cooking through the dinner hour packs my lunch.”

“Why can’t they pack my lunch?” Rory complained.

“Because you don’t wash thousands of dishes every week and your allowance is still more than I make,” I replied.  “You could just buy a Rowan West lunch every day.”

His parents were both professors at UVM.  His father was head of the Chemistry department and his mom taught Psychology to undergraduates.  An only child, he was the Tessings’ pride and joy.

“That’s brilliant!” he exclaimed.  “My parents worship the ground your aunt walks on, so they would love the idea I was getting a Vermont-produced, nutritious lunch!”

“Why?” Sarah suddenly asked.

“Why would they want me to eat nutritionally?” Rory asked. 

The brown-haired girl shook her head. “No. Why do they worship his aunt?” she asked, pointing her thumb in my direction.

“Because I got lost in the woods as a little kid and she found me,” Rory said.  I stopped chewing, not liking where this was headed.  As usual, Rory was oblivious.  Candace, however, glanced my way.

“How did she find you?  She a good tracker?” Sarah asked.

“No she…” Rory started, but I interrupted.

“Hey, who’s going to the Homecoming dance?”

There was an awkward moment of quiet as everyone wrestled with how to handle my blatant topic change.  Sarah looked at me with narrowed eyes but said nothing, instead continuing to chew.

“I’m going with either Elle Resner or Jess Trainor,” Jonah said into the silence. 

Rory, who had been left with his mouth hanging open, looked from me to the tall boy beside him.  “What the hell does that mean?  You’re either going with one or the other. Which is it?”

“It means he hasn’t asked either yet but is still working up to it,” Candace said, peeling the top off a container of applesauce.

“Technically, you’re correct, but I’m confident that one or the other will say yes,” Jonah answered, trying to look smug.  Of all of us, he had the most options for friends.  He could have chosen to sit with his soccer buddies at any time, but instead stayed with our little group for lunch.  He regularly got invited to parties and events that I never would.  Candace also had options for lunch, through her many club connections, but she was socially awkward and didn’t really fit in anywhere.  Rory, because of his annoying tendency to rub his intelligence in everyone’s faces and because of his steadfast loyalty to me, was the second least-popular person of our group.  I’ll give you one guess as to who holds the number one spot.

“How about you?  You going?” Candace asked me.

“I never go to dances,” I replied.

“Plus, that’s Mabon,” Rory said absently.  Because he was staring intently into his bag of Doritos, he failed to notice my wicked glare in his direction.

“What’s Mabon?” Sarah asked suddenly.  Rory looked startled, like he’d forgotten her presence, then he glanced at me, perhaps realizing that his big, fat mouth had yet again run away from him.

‘He means it’s the Fall Equinox that weekend, and I usually spend it stargazing with my aunt.  Usually some leftover Perseid meteors still visible,” I said, lamely trying to cover his lapse.  The other two would never bring up Mabon, but Rory’s know-it-all reflex tended to kick in at ill-opportune times.

“Says here that Mabon is a pagan holiday, also known sometimes as the Harvest Home festival,” Sarah said, looking up from her smart phone.

“Hey, is that a Samsung Galaxy?” Rory asked, leaning forward to get a better look at her phone.

“I saw a lot of stuff in the gift shop of your restaurant.  You know, like crystals and Tarot cards and stuff.  You and your aunt into all that New Age stuff?” she asked me, ignoring Rory’s ploy. There was a studied casualness to her question that made me a little nervous.

“We’re into selling New Age and Spiritualism merchandise.  Pretty good market for it around these parts, plus we do Internet orders.  So between helping my aunt and meteor watching, I’ll be too busy to do anything else.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t believe the hippies that come out of the woodwork around here,” Jonah said.  Sarah flicked her eyes in his direction before glancing back at me.  She looked thoughtful then went back to eating like a professional.

“Did you know Chuck Norris has already been to Mars?” Rory asked us.  “That’s why there’s no sign of life.”

“When the Boogeyman goes to bed, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris,” Jonah replied.

I took another bite of my sandwich and chewed slowly, watching the new girl.  She paid no attention to the two clowns, concentrating on eating her lunch and taking the occasional glance around at the room.  Her eyes flicked in my direction at least once.  Somehow, I knew that all our misdirection had done nothing more than hone her curiosity.  Great.  She would likely ask around and in short order, our table would be once again down to four.  Probably better for her anyway.

Chapter 4-West

A little over two hundred miles to the southeast of Castlebury, a fit young man with black hair and black skin stood on a roof.  Three stories above the ground, he was watching another man through expensive binoculars while holding a parabolic mike in his spare hand.  His target—who was in his early twenties and was very fit, with sandy hair and hazel eyes—was sipping a latte at an outdoor table in front of a Boston coffee shop. Playing a hunch, the watcher had been tailing his quarry for three days.  Another hunch told him his patience was about to pay off, as Mr. Latte reached into a pocket to grab his phone.

“Chete,” the latte guy answered.  The sound was crisp and clear even ninety-seven yards away as the hunter listened through top-end headphones.

“Agent Machete, you are activated.  Details follow by text.  You’ll proceed to Castlebury, Vermont and investigate a Sarah Williams, recently registered at Castlebury High School. This is only a sneak and peek.  Copy?”

“Copy Central,” he replied, ending the call.

Agent Machete turned and headed for his vehicle, a visible sense of excitement about him.  In his eagerness, he never noticed the man on the roof.

The watcher knew a great deal about Machete, like the fact that he had been recruited right off the battlefields of Afghanistan, an advanced graduate of the U.S. Army’s school of killing and mayhem.  He had been a squad leader in a light infantry unit that had drawn more than its share of dangerous building clearing assignments.  The last mission had sent his unit in support of a group of special operators whose only uniform emblems had been crossed black swords over the letters A.I.R.

The building was thought to contain a high-ranking Taliban officer.  It did—along with three times as many fighters as intelligence had counted on.  Machete, whose birth name was Kevin, had demonstrated a ferocious appetite for combat in the fight that followed.  The same fight killed off his entire squad.

After the battle, wounded in both body and mind, he had been approached by a man in a black suit, representing an elite organization focused on protecting the U.S.A.  He fit their profile: a young, skilled soldier who lacked much in the way of family or friends back in the States.  Would he want to truly be of service to his country?  Hell, yeah!

He died that day, at least on paper.  His birth name was gone, engraved on a headstone in Arlington Cemetery.  The funeral was apparently very impressive; not that he would know, as he had been whisked into a covert training program that drew its roots from the CIA’s famous Farm facility.

The watcher, also a young man, knew all this because Machete was a special project of his.  

Oddly enough, he had much in common with Machete.  He, too, had been a soldier in Afghanistan; a Ranger, assigned to a mixed force unit that spent months deep in the rugged mountains tracking the Taliban.  He, too, had been recruited by a man in a black suit while he lay in the hospital.  But unlike Machete, Michael West got to keep his own name and identity.  His recruiter, who had identified himself as Nathan Stewart, had asked him two hours’ worth of questions about his uncanny ability to find the quarry his unit had hunted.  Time and again, Mike had been ridiculously successful at picking the right direction, village, cave, or hidey hole to find his man.  He was so crazy good at it that the team’s handle for him was Witch Hunter.

Director Stewart had explained that Michael’s talent wasn’t luck or even intuition, but another gift that most of the human race didn’t have.  Mike had been skeptical, right up until one of Stewart’s assistants had somehow moved an entire tray of food off the table in front of him and over to her own place setting… without touching it.  Several more demonstrations followed, one of which left him hovering six inches off the ground before he was willing to listen, although he pointed out that his missing left foot made him less than a whole man.  Director Stewart had waved that off as inconsequential.  There were ex-soldiers missing both feet who were competing in international and Olympic races.  It was what Mike had in his head and heart that would qualify or disqualify him.

So he, too, had undergone additional training.  But while much of it was spycraft, weapons, unarmed combat and surveillance technique, there had also been intensive work done to hone and develop his innate gift for finding quarry.  All of Stewart’s people had some gift or other, gifts that belonged in fairy tales or movies but existed here in the real world.

When he was done, he was turned loose with a few leads on the mysterious and incredibly dangerous organization known as agents in rebus, whose symbol was crossed swords over the word AIR.

Those leads, developed further by Michael’s uncanny gift, had led him to Machete.  And now, Machete was leading him to something that his gut told him was of huge significance to AIR.  Whatever—or, in this case, whoever—that was, Mike West vowed to himself as he adjusted his prosthetic foot, AIR wouldn’t get it first. 

Chapter 5 – Declan

PE was the second-to-last class of the day for me and Jonah.  We were both changed and loitering in the gym as most of the class arrived.  So we watched Trey Johnson, Micah Issacs, Kevin Otts, and Steve Randal arrive with Jessica Connors and Lisa Tesslor.  The football team and cheer squad were well represented.  Then I saw Sarah come in.  She went to Mrs. Bockman, our PE instructor, who took her slip, then rummaged in her office for spare gym clothes.  Sarah disappeared into the locker room along with the cheer girls.

The volleyball net was set up, so Jonah and I started passing a ball back and forth to warm up.  Trey and his football buddies came out of the boys’ locker room and began their own warm up on the other side of the net.  Jessica Connors, Lisa Tesslor, and a girl named Alli Monroe came out. Jonah missed the ball as he gazed at Jessica’s long, tan legs. 

The Connors family owned a car dealership, and I heard they had a summer place with a big boat on Lake Champlain. From Jessica’s tan, it was easy to see she’d had a sun-filled summer. The cheer girls automatically went to the same side as Trey and company, but Alli joined us.  As a member of the varsity volleyball team, Alli would have been welcome on Trey’s side, but her older sister, Emilee, worked as a waitress for my aunt, and Alli was starting work there soon as well, so she preferred our side.

More kids trickled out of the locker rooms, automatically separating themselves according to status.  Basically, you had to be approved by Trey to be on his side; otherwise, you ended up with us.  It wasn’t a fair mix, as most of the athletes were on Trey’s team, but Jonah, Alli, and I added enough ability to make it interesting.

Coach Bockman was counting up players when Sarah came out.  I looked over when I heard Coach speak.  “Ah, Williams there you… are.”

The reason for Coach’s verbal pause was obvious.  Dressed in tight spandex volleyball clothes, Sarah was a surprise.  She looked... sexy.  Not the long-legged, skinny model look that Jessica embodied, but a defined, muscled look that screamed physical capability. The tight material of her blue jersey even showed the outline of an actual six pack—or maybe an eight pack.  I had thought she was kind of cute before, but this was different.  She reminded me of an Olympic caliber sprinter.  Someone on Trey’s side wolf whistled; maybe Steve Randall.

“Ah Sarah, we’re doing a module on volleyball.  Have you ever played?” Coach said, shooting a glare at the football players.

“Nothing formal, Coach. Just some games with people from my mom’s workplace,” Sarah answered, looking at the class, who were all looking at her.  She ignored everyone’s stares although her eyes narrowed a bit when she met my gaze.

“Alli, help Sarah with the rules and techniques, would you?” Coach called, sending the new girl our way. 

“Sure, Coach,” Alli called back, immediately showing Sarah the proper way to pass a ball.

“Okay, ready to volley for serve?” Bockman asked.

“Nah, just give them first serve, Coach. We’ll get it back soon enough,” Trey said with a wink at Sarah.

Coach threw me the game ball, and I bounced it a few times as I backed behind the serve line.  Sarah and Alli were to my left in the back row and Johah and two other kids were up front.  Jonah was easily the tallest kid in the gym, so he sort of owned the front row.

I kept my eyes on Lisa Tesslor while I lined up my serve but sent the ball directly for Kevin Otts in the back row.  Despite being a ditz, Lisa would actually be likely to handle my serve.  Kevin, on the other hand, was an over-muscled moron who could be counted on to knock the ball into orbit or, in this case, the ductwork overhead.  Score one for our side.

I got the next shot as well, putting it between Otts and Trey, but closer to Otts.  Trey actually got a hand on it, but it bounced off Otts and the ball went into the net.

My next serve got too close to Micah Issacs, who was arguably one of the best athletes in school.  He passed it to Jessica, who set it for Trey, who aimed it for Sarah’s face.  It was a nasty spike and it would have likely hurt her except she somehow got a hand up in time and the ball went into our net.

“Good reflexes,” Alli told her while glaring at Trey.  Issacs served a scorcher that I just couldn’t get the right angle on, my pass going out of bounds.  He served at me again, but this time, I got enough on it that Allie managed to set it up to Jonah, who smashed it into the open space between Jessica, Lisa, and Steve Randall.

We rotated and our server, a quiet kid named Mark, gave them an easy serve that Steve Randall was able to set to Trey, who spiked it hard into the floor by Jonah’s feet.

The other side rotated, which brought Trey directly across the net from Sarah.  He made a show of looking her body up and down with a smirk.

“Sorry about the love tap earlier, babe.  I get a bit carried away.  Maybe I’ll give you private lessons later,” he suggested.

I was pissed, but judging from the tense lines of defined muscle in Sarah’s back and shoulders, she was even more so. 

Jessica had the serve, and she sent it directly to me in the middle of the back row.  I passed it forward, but it went at a bad angle, straight to a kid named Brian Kasinski, who was maybe our worst player.  He panicked and knocked the ball straight up over his own head.  Instead of moving out of the way, he just bent over and held his head.

Sarah, whose eyes were tracking the ball like a cat with a laser pointer, leaped up, putting one hand on Brian’s back for liftoff.  She got a good three and a half feet off the ground, which gave her ample room to blister the ball right into Trey’s face.  It bounced off his forehead and nose, went into the net, and then came right back into his stomach.

“Ooooooo,” I heard myself say as everyone else watched for Trey’s reaction.  He looked shocked, then his face went red with anger.

“Oh sorry, babe.  I get a little carried away sometimes,” she said to him.

We ended up losing by two points, but it was the best showing the outcast side had ever had and despite the win, Trey left the gym in a hell of a temper, slamming lockers and cursing at everyone.

Me, I was happy for the almost draw.  It massively sucked, always losing by mega points.  Coach Bockman preferred athletes to nerds, so she never bothered to even up the teams.  Today had been one of the better gym days so far this year, but I kept going back to the moment when Sarah had leaped so high in the air, my brain replaying the sight of her hand on Brian’s back, her touch so light, it had barley dimpled Brian’s shirt.  Almost as if she hadn’t needed to boost off him at all.

Global History dragged for the last period and I had trouble concentrating on old Mrs. Pelman.  Instead, I kept thinking about the new girl, her mother, and their almost-empty car.  The bell finally rang and I headed out into the hall, meeting up with Jonah and Rory near the front of the school.

Lockers slammed, kids yelled, books dropped, and the halls were a swirl of teenage confusion.  Up ahead of us, I spotted a figure that was quickly becoming familiar.

“Hey Sarah?  Coming back tomorrow?” I asked.  She didn’t hear me and my two friends hadn’t seen her, being caught up as they were in a discussion about Monday night football. 

“Sarah?”

She still didn’t turn, busy looking at her phone.  I tried a different tact.

“Hey Caeco.” 

Her shoulders tensed and she slowly turned to give me a deadly glare. Like, you know, if looks could kill and all that.

“You didn’t answer to Sarah,” I said in the storm cloud of her instant hostility.  Something that might have been chagrin flashed over her features before her face smoothed out to its normal, bland expression.

“What did you want?” she asked.  My pals had by this time realized I was talking to someone other than them—and a girl type person at that and stopped their own conversation to listen.

“I asked if you were coming back tomorrow.”

She frowned, confused.  “Of course.  I have school.”

I sighed, wondering at her weirdness.  “Never mind.  It’s just an expression.”

“Hey, good game today,” Jonah added.

“We lost,” she said, the frown back on her face.

“Yeah, but it was close, and you slammed Johnson right in the face.  That was awesome,” Jonah said.

“Yeah, I heard about that,” Rory said.  “Brian Kasinski said you look like a Crossfit instructor.”

He made a muscle-flexing gesture, but almost nothing happened to his bicep.

She looked a little flustered by his words, maybe mildly alarmed.

“Oh, yeah, well, that Johnson boy seems to be a douche bag.  But listen I gotta go; my mother’s waiting for me,” she said.

“Right. Well, later,” I said.

She frowned again, like my words didn’t make sense.  Shaking her head, she said, “Oh, right. Have a good evening then,” and headed left toward the visitor parking and parent pickup section of the parking lot.

“Weird girl,” I commented.

“Yeah, but I heard she looked hot in spandex,” Rory said, reducing the whole situation to the only point that teenage boys care about.

“True that, bitch,” Jonah said in his best gangster voice.

“A bitch is a female dog, and I am a classy, educated young man,” my little friend shot back.

“Yeah, but you’re my bitch,” was Jonah’s reply, which set Rory to sputtering as we all headed for the green Beast.

Turning my head, I saw Sarah, who didn’t like to be called Caeco, get into her mother’s Buick.  Neither appeared to speak to the other as the older woman put the car into drive and pulled out.  Weird.  More weird.

Chapter 6 - Declan

“James!  What are our three objectives?” Levi asked.  About five-ten and lean in his black instructor’s tee and loose black combat pants, Levi Guildersleeve was moving behind the circle of kids who were all focused on me and James, the little fourth grader in front of me.

“Ah, disrupt their thoughts, do damage and… ah,” James struggled for a moment, glancing my way with a panicky look.  I lifted one foot and wobbled slightly as if I was having trouble staying on just the single leg.  Recognition flared in his eyes.

“Put them off balance!” He finished triumphantly.

“Yes,” Levi agreed from his roving position just outside our circle.

“Mark, what are Krav Maga’s four steps to action?” he asked the sturdy blond kid he was now behind.  Mark’s expression was vacant for a moment as he tried to remember.  It was about his sixth class, but he was still having trouble remembering the basic principles—at least verbally. The physical part, he was doing fine with.

Another blonde, this one a cute fifth-grade girl who made all the boys nervous, held up her hand. 

“Lisa, what are they?” Levi asked.

“Perceive—the threat, Analyze—the situation, Formulate—a plan, and Execute,” she said, ignoring the admiring glances of the boys.  Instead, she looked at me while she answered.

Which made sense, as I was standing in front of her and Levi was behind them, roving like a circling shark.  But she smiled at me a lot, and even I recognized that it had to do with the fact I was a Senior in high school and Levi’s assistant instructor.  It was harmless admiration, maybe even a crush.  Of course, the first time she mentioned my name to an older sibling or friend, she would likely hear stories about me that would leave her afraid of me.  Maybe I could graduate high school before I saw that in her eyes. 

“Why?  Why do we do that?” Levi asked.

The other girl in class, Lisa’s friend Ellie, spoke up.  She wore glasses and had long, curly brown hair. “Because they’re bigger, faster, stronger and they know what we’re going to do.”

“Exactly!  Is Declan bigger, stronger, and faster than James?”

“You bet he is,” a chubby kid named Ben blurted out, which caused the rest of the class to laugh.  Levi laughed, too.  “Does he know more than James?”

“Of course, Mr. Guildersleeve. He’s an instructor,” Ellie said.

“So James, what could you do to put him off balance, disrupt his thoughts, and do some damage?”

James looked at me apprehensively, then snapped an awkward kick with his left foot at my groin.  It barely tapped my cup, but the thought was there.  He followed it with a jab at my eyes and a jab at my throat, then turned and ran toward the door, stopping after just a few steps to turn back toward Levi.

“Very good, James.  You attacked the soft, vulnerable spots on his body and escaped.  Getting out of a fight with bigger, stronger, faster, more highly trained individual is usually the best idea.  But let’s say the escape route is blocked.  What then?”

Lisa raised her hand.  Levi waved her forward.

She gave me a sly smile, then snapped her own foot up.  It was a much harder kick and without the cup, I’d have been on the floor.  She followed it with a roundhouse knee that pushed me back, off balance, rather than doing any damage.  Then she leaned away, left hand cupped around the side of her neck to guard it (theoretically from a knife attack) and side-kicked me with her right leg just above the top of my knee.  Her follow up started with the same finger strike to the eyes (her fingers just touching the skin of my forehead), a fist jab that brushed my nose, a hand strike that cupped my throat, and a double hand clap to my ears (her fingers spread like a Vulcan mind meld to avoid actually popping my eardrums). 

Leaving her hands in place, she dropped her stance low while pulling my head toward the top of her own skull for a head butt.  Her right thumb pressed on my left eyebrow, just above the eye that she would be gouging if this were real, while her left hand held the back of my head. Her right forearm and elbow slapped the left side of my neck, then just the outside of her forearm slid over and slammed the right side of my neck.  Her hands moved down to my right bicep and shoulder, holding me in Reference Point One while she delivered a knee to my groin and then a follow-through kick between my legs, both of which left me glad I had bought good protective gear.  She then moved my arm across in front of her, shifting her hands to reposition them in Reference Point Two, which left me off balance with her behind me, holding my arm and shoulder immobile.

“Lisa.  That was perfect.  Poor Declan is now blind, deaf, choking, with a busted nose, and will not stand upright for a week,” Levi said. “Not to mention his knee is hurting and his face has an excellent impression of the top of Lisa’s head.  That’s what I’m talking about.  Always, always keep pushing through the threat that you can’t get away from.  Never stop.  If you can escape like James, then that’s perfect, but you won’t always have that option.  Okay, Declan, get them set up for a weapons drill—sticks, I think.  Your choice.”

He left me to work the class through the remaining time, working at his desk then greeting parents as they arrived to pick up their kids, chatting and charming the moms.  I circled the kids up and Levi came over for a few words of conclusion, then dismissed them.  I straightened up the dojo while he disappeared into the back.  As the last kid left, Levi came out wearing his full sparring gear and carrying my own bag in his hand. He also had batons in his hands.

“Alright.  Get your gear on.  It’s time to see what you can do.”

We beat on each other for twenty minutes, neither talking, each focused on the other.  After a particularly brutal exchange, we both pulled away, breathing hard, which was odd.  Usually, the timer on the wall would let us know when each bout was over.  Krav Maga is all about survival, about inflicting damage on a bigger, faster, stronger opponent.  Constant pressure, always moving forward through your opponent, is one of the base principles.  So when we pulled back as if by unspoken agreement, it was unusual.

Levi studied me for a moment, then took off his headgear and grabbed a towel to wipe his face. 

“What’s up?” I asked him.  I’ve known Levi since he arrived in town seven years earlier.  He came in Rowan West one day, ate lunch, browsed the shop, and struck up a conversation with my aunt.  He had travelled a lot—actually still did for his book business—and he was very familiar with Ireland and had been there recently.  My aunt, desperate for news of her homeland, had talked about Eire with him for hours.  He came back the next day for dinner, and the day after that.  He’d been in my life ever since.  I knew Levi was ex-military, but I didn’t know whose military he’d served in.  His English was without accent and he was very much a student of the world.  He spoke French, Spanish, German, Hebrew, and Farsi as well as a smattering of Chinese.  The Krav Maga training had been his suggestion to my aunt; a channel for my youthful energy and frustration.  I was his first student, the studio and classes had come several years after I had started to train.

“What do you mean?” he asked, continuing to strip off his protective padding, effectively signaling that we were done.

“You were edgy all through the class. Even the kids picked up on it.  And your sparring seemed extra aggressive.  What’s going on?”

He paused, not answering, so I prodded some more.  Sometimes with Levi, it takes a few good jabs to get under his guard.   “You’ve had some kind of premonition, haven’t you?”

Levi had been fascinated with my family’s particular skill set since his first day in Rowan West and his perusal of the New Age and occult paraphernalia in the shop.  It took a few months, but he gradually built up the conversation about the supernatural world to the point where finally he asked outright if we were witches.  By that time he’d earned enough of my aunt’s hoarded trust to warrant a small measure of the truth.  But his fascination was personal; it seemed Levi had a bit of the Sight himself.  He got powerful premonitions about things and people.  Powerful in that they made him nauseous at times.  But they were mostly vague, unfocused.  Aunt Ash had tutored him a bit, which had helped, but ultimately, he just wasn’t strong enough to get more than a few feelings about events.  He claimed it had been enough to save him on more than one occasion, several times in combat and several more times when he had strayed too close to the workings of organized crime while in pursuit of some rare and expensive book.

Now he stared at me, eyes slightly unfocused, before sighing in frustration.  “Yes,” he admitted.

“And it’s about me, isn’t it?” I asked, following a hunch of my own.

His slate gray eyes widened for a second before narrowing.  “Yes, some.”

“Does it involve a girl?” I asked.

Now he looked really surprised, eyebrows shooting straight up.  The answer was on his face.

“New girl moved to town.  She’s kinda my friend.  Aunt Ash says we have to help her,” I explained.

“Tell me,” he directed.  I thought about it.  Levi was pretty much family.  He ate dinner with us at least once a week, he was the only male adult figure in my life, and he attended all of our Solstice and Equinox ceremonies.  So I filled him in on the newcomers and Aunt Ash’s reading.  When I finished, he stared at me for a few moments.

“So what was your premonition?” I asked.

He was still thinking things through, so his answer was a little slow in coming.  “I keep seeing you fighting for your life.  I can’t see your opponents, but I do get flashes of a girl with you.  It’s not much, but it’s strong,” he said.  “Now that you tell me your aunt’s reading, it just makes me more certain than ever.”

“You’re worried you haven’t trained me enough,” I guessed.

“No such thing as training enough.  But I just worry.  Even the best-trained person can slip at the wrong time or not see something coming.  Lady Luck can be the biggest bitch, especially in combat,” he answered, pointing for me to proceed him into the back room. 

I stepped through just ahead of him, then felt him move.  Jumping forward three paces, I spun and faced him just in time to see him rushing at me with one of the rubber training knives.  Instinctively, my right hand covered my neck as I leaned back and kicked at his leading knee.  It was enough to knock him off balance and gave me time to grab a metal folding chair sitting near the bathroom door.  Rushing forward, I used the four legs of the chair to trap him against the built-in wooden equipment shelves, his knife hand trapped alongside his body. One metal leg was pressed against his throat, forcing him to use his remaining hand to hold the leg from further movement.  He studied our positions for a second, then grinned and nodded.

“Good response, but try to let others go first; don’t let them get behind you.”

Chapter 7 – Declan

A Chittenden County Sheriff’s cruiser was parked in next to my aunt’s Prius in the parking area behind the restaurant, when I got home thirty minutes later. I entered our living quarters through the back, hanging my bookbag on a free spot on the row of hooks in our entryway-slash-mudroom.  The hook to the left of mine held a police issue gunbelt with about twenty pounds of stuff on it, including a Glock pistol.

The next room is our private kitchen, and a compact blonde woman wearing a deputy’s uniform was sitting at the kitchen table, polishing off a bowl of soup as I came in behind her.  She swiveled slightly to glance at me as I slid past.   “Hi Darci.  Why aren’t you changed?  Gotta go back out?” I asked.

My aunt’s girlfriend nodded, short hair hardly moving as she slurped down the last of her soup.

“A little shorthanded today, so I’m pulling an extra shift.  At least it’ll be overtime, though,” she said.  “How was Levi today?”

“He seemed a bit intense tonight, at least when he was beating me up,” I said, absently rubbing my ribs where a baton had left its memory even through my padding.

“Hmm.  Maybe Ash should check up on him and see if he’s okay,” she wondered for a moment before getting to her feet and coming over to the sink. I was washing my hands.

“Alrighty, gotta go kiddo,” she said, grabbing my chin and back of head in a no-nonsense grip so she could pull me down and plant a kiss on my cheek.  I automatically scrunched away from her although I didn’t really mind the kiss.  Just better to set my boundaries on parent surrogate displays of affection on general principals.  I was already an outcast.  If Darci or my aunt were spotted giving me a cheek or top-of-head kiss in public, I’d have to have a complete facial reconstruction and go into witness relocation.  Oh wait, that wasn’t much different than how I lived now.

Leaving her plate and cup on the table, the tough little deputy headed for the mudroom.

“Hey, ya slob.  I’m not your servant, ya know,” I yelled at her.

She poked her head back in, her hands busy buckling on her gunbelt.  “Really?  Cause Ash said we got to work you like a slave till you move out,” she said with a grin.

“I already did move out,” I replied.

“The backyard doesn’t count, Hotshot,” she said, giving me a wave goodbye.

I filled a bowl with the potato bacon soup I found on the stove, cut a big hunk of fresh Italian bread, and grabbed a cold Gatorade from the fridge.

After a second bowl bit the dust, I picked up all the dishes, loaded them into the dishwasher, and picked up the kitchen.  Darci was really good for my aunt, but she was kind of a slob.

I figured my aunt was overseeing the dinner hour out front in the restaurant, so I grabbed a handful of oatmeal raisin cookies from the bakery box on the counter and headed back outside to my lair.

I didn’t have to go far, because just outside our back door was the end of a steel shipping container, although this one had a door embedded in it.  Not just any door, but a compartment door from a Japanese car carrier ship, made of steel and complete with a heavy nautical latch.

Inside the hatchway door, a soft light turned on as soon as my body heat was detected by a tiny motion sensor.

The revealed interior was like no other container on Earth.  Floored with bamboo and walled  with barnwood, it was warm and inviting instead of cold and metallic.  A row of small LED lights clicked on as I moved further into the space that was my room.

The container had been left behind the restaurant when Aunt Ash and Mom had bought the property, and since it weighed the better part of nine thousand pounds, it had stayed right there while they got the business up and running.

When I was thirteen, a local college professor had made a public plea for the donation of a container for a nationwide ecologically friendly home design contest that his class had wanted to enter.  Aunt Ash had told him he could have it if he could move it.  His budget for the contest was meager, and the final negotiations left the finished product as her property but with annual visits by each year’s class to study the third-place winner’s details. The rest of the year, it was my cool, teenage-guy pad.

Part of what had made the container ideal was its placement on our property. One long wall faced south, and the class had installed high efficiency windows and sliding doors all along that side.  That gave the entire living space a great view of the forest and the mountains that rose above it while collecting a boatload of passive solar heat.  The original steel side was attached on giant hinges at the bottom and either lay flat as a deck or folded up during bad weather to protect the glass.

Solar panels mounted on the roof pulled energy from the sun each day; the small trickle of power was stored in deep cycle batteries.    Most of the lighting had been low-power twelve volt bulbs, but I had replaced them with the LEDs and installed the motion sensor welcome light myself.  In addition to the lights, the batteries powered a set of speakers for my iPod, my laptop computer, and three strategically placed fans that cooled the space in the summer and recirculated warm air in the winter.  The walls had been sprayed with a recycled insulation, then covered with old wood reclaimed from collapsed barns.  I had a small bathroom with a tiny shower that could use solar-warmed water, or with the flip of a valve, an on-demand propane-powered water heater salvaged from a camping trailer.  The container was roomy and cleverly designed to maximize space.

The focal point of the long wall opposite the windows was a painting of the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland.  The artist had signed her name M. O’Carroll, the M standing for Maeve.  My mother.

The painting had its own pin lights directed on it, and I paused, as I usually did, to study it, wondering if I would ever get to visit Ireland. I completed my ritual by looking down at the framed photo on the end table below it.

A woman with deep brown hair and bright blue eyes stared at the camera from inside the hood of a dark green cloak.  Her face wasn’t classically beautiful like her auburn-haired sister, who stood beside to her in the next framed photo over, but rather, she was striking and exuded a kind of confident power.  That wasn’t just the emotional impression of an orphaned son who never really knew his mother.  Virtually every design class that had toured the container since it had been built had commented on the photo, and usually the painting, as well. My mother and Aunt Ash had fled Ireland a little more than eighteen years ago, losing themselves in the vastness of America, bringing little more than some clothes, a small but valuable collection of family heirloom jewelry, and a tiny life growing inside my mother.

Evening ritual completed, I settled in at the tiny desk that folds down from the wall to start my homework.  But this night, for some reason, I kept glancing at my mother’s photo, thinking of her flight from danger and what appeared to be a similar flight by the girl I had just met.  Mom’s hadn’t ended well for her.  Despite only knowing her a day, I hoped Sarah Caeco Williams didn’t share a similar fate.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come on in,” I said, knowing who it likely was.

My aunt poked her head through the doorway.  ‘I dinna catch you at your supper, so I thought I’d pop out for a visit.”

“Hi Aunt Ash.  How’s the dinner crowd?”

“Gann,” she said, which meant scarce in Gaelic.  “But it is a Monday night.”

Her Monday sounded like Munday.  I love my aunt’s accent just as I love to obsess over all things Irish.

“Aw, it might be possible to visit someday kiddo,” she said, picking up on my wistfulness.  My aunt’s ability to read people in general is phenomenal.  Her ability to read her own family is almost always dead accurate.

“But tell me, how did school go today?  Did ya see that new girl?”

“Yeah.  Like, all day long.  Helped her find her locker.  Saw her in Calc and English.  She sat at my table at lunch, and she was in my gym class.”

She looked at me for a moment, waiting, then made a rolling motion with her hand, telling me to keep going.

“She’s different.  Talks like a teacher most of the time, but then sometimes not.”

“Is she a smarty then, is she?”

“Oh yeah.  She took a Calc quiz without a calculator and got almost a perfect score.  But it’s more like she doesn’t understand a lot of common phrases, at least kid phrases.  And sometimes, she sounds like Darci’s cop friends… a little.  It’s weird. I called her name today and she didn’t respond, but when I used her middle name, Caeco, she snapped right around. And in gym, she was a big surprise.  She had to borrow gym clothes from the coach.  Came out looking like an Olympic athlete.  Who is that sprinter you like to follow so much?  The one from the U.K.?”

“Jess Ennis?”

“Yeah, she looks like her, all ripped.  And can she jump!  Holy shi… shoot.  She jumped higher than Micah today.  Slammed Trey right in the face.”

My aunt was watching me carefully.  Her head tilted slightly to one side. “How did she join your table?”

“I waved her over.  She wasn’t going to find anyplace very easily,” I answered.

“And did she get on with your friends?”

“Yeah, especially by the end of the day.  Jonah was there when she bitch-smacked Trey, and we only lost by two points, so he thought it was the best gym class this year.  Rory and Candace seem to be alright with her, too.”

“I’ve done another reading on her and came up more of the same.  She’s in trouble, both her and her mum.  Like the trouble me and your own mum were in.”

“She’s pregnant?” I asked.

“No, ye daft boy!  She’s got bad people after her, uncanny people.  And…” She took a deep breath. “We’re to help her.  Clear as crystal.  I’ve only ever seen its like when I did a reading just before your mum and me had our spot of trouble.  I dinnot pay as much attention to that reading as I should have.  I won’t be repeating errors.  So do what you can for her, if ya can.”

“Aunt Ash, Levi was worried about me today.  Said he’d had visions of me fighting alongside a girl, but he couldn’t see my enemies.”

“Well, that’s to be considered then, isn’t it?  Levi has a lot of experience, survived a lot of things.  And by things, I mean the kind of thing and experience that we might encounter… uncanny things.”

“You’ve always said that Levi only has a touch of Sight and no real Power—how has he survived?”

“By being a step ahead.  What is that Krav stuff yer always going on about?  Disrupt their thoughts, keep them off balance, damage them?  Is that it?  Well, Levi is bloody brilliant at that stuff.  He listens to his instincts, he pays attention to everything around him, and he always, always prepares.  Weapons, distractions, defenses, escape routes, alternate routes, disguises, and the like.”

“You make him sound like a master spy,” I observed.

“Well, me boy, he travels the world seeking valuable documents that people will go to great lengths to get their grubby hands on with no support but his own.  Maybe he should be teaching the master spies, eh?”

“When you say it like that, you might be right.”

“Now, back to the girl.  Are ye like to see her tomorrow?”

“Yeah.  I think she’ll sit with us at lunch.”

“And she’s not so hard on the eyes, now is she?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“She’s kinda cute,” I admitted.  Let’s be honest—she was more than cute, but I wasn’t going to confess to that.

“Hmmpf!  I’ll leave ya to your work then,” she said, her smile broader than before.  Damn witches.  She kissed the top of my head then headed out, stopping to adjust my mother’s photo as she went.  I waited till the door clanged shut, then tweaked the photo back my way so I could look over my shoulder and see it.  Kinda like she was watching me do my homework.

Chapter 8 – Declan

The parking lot was almost empty when I got to school early the next morning.  Just Trey Johnson’s blue Mustang and Mike Oberton’s old Honda Accord.   I had completely forgotten my AP Bio lab results the night before and I had to get them rewritten in report form and handed in today if I wanted full credit.  And I wanted every credit, grade, and score I could get.  I really needed to blow the doors off my grades the first half of Senior year if I was going to have a shot at any college scholarships.

The front door was unlocked and no one was in the immediate area of the lobby as I entered.  The halls were a bit creepy, being all silent and empty of kids. Mass bedlam and chaos were the standards I was used to.

My bio lab info was right where I forgot it, on the top shelf of my locker in its dedicated lab folder, so I grabbed it and shoved it into my book bag.  I could probably get it done before first bell if I hustled.  Just as I shut the locker door, I heard voices coming from the gym area and it sounded like an argument.

Curiosity got the best of me and I found my feet pulling me in the direction of the voices. Poking my head around the final corner brought an odd scene into view.  Trey Johnson and his pet gorilla, Kevin Otts, had someone backed up against the wall.  A female someone from the shape of the jean-clad legs I could just make out in the gap between the two beefy football players.

“What do you say, sweet stuff?  Gonna sit with us at lunch today?  A hardbody like you belongs with the right crowd, not with a bunch of geeks and freaks,” Trey said, moving closer and putting both hands on the girl’s shoulders.  His movement cleared enough space that I could now see that it was Sarah he had backed up almost to the wall.

“I already said I didn’t think so.  Now I’m certain—no,” she replied, her voice pitched low in anger.

“You don’t seem to understand how it works around here,” Trey said, his voice also getting angry.  “I speak, you listen.  I ask, and you do!  Get it?” He pushed her against the wall.

I started to move forward, but it was like he’d hit the firing button on a dynamite detonator.  The compact, brown-haired girl exploded into motion, both hands coming up inside his arms and slamming the edge of her palms hard against them.  She stepped close to him, wrapping one arm around the small of his back while shoving her palm up and under his chin, forcing his head back.  His lower body was trapped by her arm and his head bent backward, so Trey had nowhere to go but over and down on his back.

Her motions had been blindingly fast and the school quarterback was flat on the ground before his lineman buddy could figure out what happened.  When it finally dawned on the stupid bastard that his leader had been floored, he charged forward, both meaty paws out to grab the girl he outweighed by more than a hundred pounds.  She waited, relaxed, as he rushed her before moving at the last moment in a blur.  As best I can figure, she side-stepped him, spun around behind him, and kicked the back of his left knee with her right leg while simultaneously shoving the back of his crew-cut head toward the wall.  That’s what I think she did. It was so damned fast, I couldn’t be sure.

It’s probably lucky that the walls were all lockers and not regular concrete block, or he might have been brain damaged.  More brain damaged.  As it was, his own momentum had enough force to leave a good-sized dent in the metal locker where his forehead hit it.

Mr. Porter, our Physics teacher, could probably have calculated the impact energy by reflex, but all I knew was that it looked like a mini-moose hitting a car.

He slid sideways down the locker, stunned.  Trey was back on his feet, his face twisted with rage, and he swung a wild, right-handed haymaker at the girl, who simply crouched, blocked the punch, then delivered a sharp jab to his exposed throat.  She grabbed Trey’s hand and got a grip on his index and middle fingers.  Pulling her arm back toward her body and flexing her fist forward and down like a waitress pouring coffee, she gave Trey the option of dropping to his knees or having both fingers snapped at the joint where they met his palm. Trey chose to collapse to the floor, his look of rage replaced with one of excruciating pain.

“Come at me again and I’ll get serious about hurting you. Got it, sweet stuff?” she asked, giving his fingers a final jerk before letting go and stepping back two paces.

Both football players were slow to get to their feet, Trey cradling his right hand while his buddy leaned on the lockers and repeatedly shook his head to clear it.

“You fucking bitch.  I’ll have you up on charges.  My father is the best trial lawyer in Burlington.  You’ll be expelled by this afternoon,” he hissed.

I stepped forward, clearing my throat.  “Actually, Johnson, I don’t think you will,” I said, holding up my phone.  “Even your dad won’t be able to make a case with the footage I’ve got here, as well as my own testimony.  And I’m used to being questioned by your father on the witness stand, remember?  Not to mention how low your reputation will sink when I post this to YouTube.”

He had pulled up short at my sudden appearance, and his face reflected dismay and horror for a moment before collapsing back to its default setting of rage.

“Fuck you, O’Carroll!  You post that and I burn your shithole restaurant to the ground.”

“Still recording, dipshit,” I said, and this time I actually was.  The part about catching the fight on video was a big bluff of bullshit, but I had tripped the video button for our little exchange.  Despite knowing I had him by the balls, my anger still ballooned at the mention of burning my aunt’s restaurant.  The florescent bulbs over my head went suddenly dark.

Both Trey and Kevin glanced up at the overheads and, for the first time, Trey looked a little nervous. Grabbing his shaky buddy by the shirtsleeve, he pulled him in a wide arc around me.

“Stay the fuck away from us, freak,” he said to me, then shoved his shuffling minion further down the hall and stalked off.

Sarah, who hadn’t flinched or acted surprised when I had stepped around the corner, was staring at the lights overhead.

“I had the situation handled, Declan.  Your interference wasn’t needed,” she said, looking calmly at me.  Part of me noted it was the first time she had ever said my name.

“Sure. In fact, I think you could have easily broken bones if they’d continued,” I said, wondering where a teenage girl had gotten the skill and experience needed to piss pound almost five hundred pounds of muscle and bone.  “But even if they hadn’t, Trey would have pressed charges and you’d be facing the police and a stacked legal deck.  His dad is a kingshit lawyer around here.”

She shook her head.  “He was bluffing about filing charges.  It would have been a big loss of face to admit that I kicked their little bitch asses.”

“Ah, that would make sense if it were anyone but Trey.  He would have made up a story about you attacking him and Kevin with a lead pipe or something.  That idiot Otts would support any story he came up with.  Trey lives for revenge.  He’d stop at nothing to get even with you.  I know… we used to be best friends.”

I don’t know why I told her the last part; it wasn’t something I mentioned to anyone anymore, although it was the truth.

“What’s to keep him from seeking revenge anyway, if that’s true?” she asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

“One, he believes that I would post the video on every type of social media known to man, and two, he knows there’s very little he can do to me that hasn’t already been done.”

Plus, he was basically terrified of me, deep down to his craven little core, but I left that off.

“What’s to keep you from posting it anyway?”

“Well, we have a kind of unspoken agreement. Each of us leaves the other mostly alone unless provoked. I won’t post anything if he leaves you alone, for the most part.  The other part of it is that I didn’t really catch the whole fight, just the last bit about him burning down Rowan West.”

“You bluffed him?  And what do you mean by for the most part?” she asked.  She was very calm, her posture relaxed, breathing even and normal and her poker face in place.  I’ve seen lots of kid fights, and no one was ever that calm three minutes later.

“Yeah, he hates me, but I have a certain amount of credibility with him. And for the most part means that he will trash your reputation on the school social scene.  Spread a campaign of lies.  Sorry, Sarah. You’ve only been here a day, and you’ve crossed the biggest douchebag in the school.  What were you doing here this early anyway?”

She studied me for a moment before answering.  “Not having gym clothes was a problem.  Mother and I bought some last night, and I wanted to put them in my locker and return Mrs. Bockman’s loaner clothes.  And I don’t really care about a reputation one way or another. I am just here to get through senior year.  But thank you for keeping him from pressing charges.  That would have been… less than ideal.”

I knew she was homeschooled, but her manner of speech was definitely weird.  Obviously, she hung out with too many adults, although she had not trouble sprinkling in a few choice curse words here or there.  But what kid says “less than ideal?” Other than Rory, that is.

“Why are you here so early?” she asked.

“I was going to type up my lab report, but now it might be too late,” I said, glancing at the time on my phone and mentally calculating my typing speed.

“I’ll do it for you.  I’m the fastest typist you’ll likely ever meet,” she said without sounding boastful.

“I’ll take you up on that,” I said although I didn’t think she could get it done.  I was wrong.

Watching her with my Apple laptop, I came to the conclusion that she was dead right… I’d never seen or heard of anyone who could type so fast that it sounded like one continuous click.  People were filtering into my homeroom by the time she was finishing up, but she still had plenty of time to complete it before giving me a nod and heading to her own homeroom, leaving me to add her ridiculous typing speed to a growing list of very odd traits.

Chapter 9- West

Mike West absently scratched his leg where it met his prosthetic foot as he observed his quarry through a high-power monocular.  Machete had parked his rental Honda on the road across from Castlebury High School and was watching the entrance with a pair of military grade binoculars.  He had been studying the kids as they disembarked from buses and cars to start their day and still was watching two-and-half hours later.

West was parked in a service station parking lot about one hundred and twenty or so yards from the AIR agent’s spot.  It was a much less conspicuous location than parking right on the main road and eyeballing the kids like a pedophile, which was going to attract attention.  West had seen quite a few parents notice the AIR operative, and he wondered how they might react.  His answer came when a Chittenden County Sheriff pulled up and rapped on Machete’s widow.  Machete looked annoyed but handled the big male deputy by simply showing his government ID, which was probably some form of Homeland Security credential.  The ID would be valid, the name on it not so much.

So AIR was apparently interested in a child, and something had brought them to the top of Vermont to this out-of-the-way school—Castlebury High—home of the Fighting Knights.

Satisfied with the credentials, the deputy continued to talk to Machete, who apparently was capable of some charm when he dug down deep.  It looked like the deputy was giving Machete some advice, which the young AIR agent took with impatience.  The sheriff cruiser pulled away, and Machete started his car and pulled away, heading back into town.  Mike West watched him for a moment, then checked the tracking program on his iPad to make sure the tiny GPS unit he had hidden on Machete’s car was working properly.  That done, he settled down to watch the school, his instincts telling him to stay where he was. 

A screech brought his head back up as Machete’s rental suddenly pulled a fast U-turn in the middle of the street and roared back up to the school bus loop.  Slamming to a stop, Machete paused and adjusted his aviator glasses before stepping out of the car and heading into the school.

West focused on the front door through the monocular, but couldn’t see any sign of the AIR agent inside.  After considering for a moment, he started his own car and eased up to the curb, his new position better for pursuit.  The cellphone conversation he had overheard had indicated surveillance only.  It looked like Machete had a case of the overeager new agent complex.  This could prove interesting.

Chapter 10- Declan

By lunchtime, the school was buzzing with the story that Kevin Otts had dropped a barbell on his head doing overhead squats in the weight room and Trey wrenched his fingers getting him up.  Otts had gone to the doctor’s to see if he had a concussion, which would leave the Castlebury Fighting Knights down one of its biggest players for our Homecoming game.

Candace and Jonah were talking about it when I sat down across from them.  I didn’t comment, but just started eating my lunch while listening.  A minute later, Sarah sat down, a heavy tray of food held one-handed while she carried her book bag in the other.  The book bag looked completely full.  Neither load appeared to bother her.

“Did you hear about your boyfriend and his butt buddy?” Jonah greeted her.

She looked confused and turned to me with eyebrows raised.  I laughed and translated. “He’s talking about Trey and Kevin.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.  He’s an ass,” she said, bewildered.

“Tree is being sarcastic because we know you don’t like Trey,” Candace explained with a wave in Jonah’s direction.

“Tree?” she asked.

“That’s what we call Stretch Patel here.  As in Tall as a Tree,” I said around a mouthful of sandwich.

“Oh, a nickname,” she said, light dawning in her eyes.

“Yes, like your mother’s for you,” I agreed which earned me a set of narrowed eyes.  I laughed and held up both hands in mock surrender.  Although after seeing her handle both football players, maybe it wasn’t mock.

Pitching my voice low, I told Candace and Jonah the real story of what happened to Johnson and Otts.

“So then, what’s your mom’s nickname for you?  Killer?  Charlene Norris?” Jonah asked.  Candace laughed and after observing our reactions, Sarah smiled a little.

“You said you used to be friends with Trey?” she suddenly asked, turning to me.

“When we were in elementary and middle school, we were pretty close,” I said.

“Try inseparable,” Jonah piped in.

“Anyway, we were goofing around in Burlington one day, waiting for his dad to get done with a meeting and take us home. I think it was fifth grade. We got bored in the office and went down to the edge of Lake Champlain, to the park area.  It was late on a weekday afternoon, and no one was around except some guy with an arm cast walking a small dog.  We ignored him till the dog got loose and ran over to us.  We held the little pup till the guy got to us.  He was all grateful and asked if we could help him get his dog to his van ‘cause his arm was making it hard.  So we did, but when we got to the van, he tricked us and shoved us both inside.  He had rope and duct tape and chains in the van.  It was pretty bad.”

“What happened?”

“I hurt the guy, badly, and we got away.  Found a cop on Church Street, and they got the guy.  Mr. Johnson was scared but glad we were okay.  But the guy died, and there was a whole lot of trouble.  Trey’s father got the story mostly covered up, keeping our names out of the paper, but after that, he forbade Trey from hanging out with me, which Trey didn’t really want to do, anyway.”

“Wait. You saved his son’s life and both of them didn’t want you around him?” Sarah asked.  Jonah and Candace knew this story, but both of them were listening intently.

“The cops didn’t like the way the guy died, and the District Attorney questioned both Trey and me for hours.  Mr. Johnson convinced him it was self-defense, but they never trusted me.”

“How did the guy die? What did you do?”

“I electrocuted him.  His heart gave out on the way to the hospital.”

“You were in his van and you electrocuted him?  With what?”

“He had two spare car batteries in back and jumper cables like he might use to shock us once he had us tied up.”

“So what’s the big deal?” she asked.

“The cops didn’t like that I was able to electrocute him with my hands duct taped behind me.”

“But you did?”

“Yeah, I did,” I said.  “I don’t remember everything that happened, but from that day on, things were different between Trey and I.  They got worse as the years went by.”

“So that’s why you said you were used to being questioned by his dad on a witness stand,” she said.

“Yeah, although I never really was on a stand.”

I could see about a million more questions brewing in her eyes, but before she could answer them, a small person careened into the back of Jonah’s chair.

“Sarah!  A federal agent is here asking about you!” Rory said in a super-excited voice.

“What?  What are you talking about?” I asked, glancing at Sarah, who had frozen in place at his words.

“I was in the office waiting to talk to Principal Jesten about this week’s student council meeting.  I’m class Treasurer you know.” He said the last directly to Sarah with a note of pride. “Anyway, I saw this guy in a suit come in, flashing his badge like they do on NCIS and saying he was Homeland Security.  Then he asked Miss Rosen about you,” he finished, looking at Sarah.

“What did she say, Rory?” I said, bringing him back on task.

“Well, he was really snotty to her, so she’s having trouble finding anything,” Rory said with a gleam in his eye.

“Oh, bad move on his part,” Jonah said.

Sarah, who had the same calm expression she’d had just after beating the piss out of the two football players, glanced at me with raised eyebrows.

“Miss Rosen is like a hundred and forty years old, doesn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone or any authority except the Principal.  If you piss her off, she loses everything you wanted her to find,” I said.

Rory nodded.  “That’s right, and I think it’ll buy you some time.”

“Time for what?” Sarah asked, her voice calm for someone being investigated by the Feds.

“To get away.  I can take you in my car.  Run you to Burlington where your mom is, if you like,” I said, feeling a bit weird about offering but knowing it was the kind of thing my mom or aunt would do.

“You would leave school and drive me away, knowing I might be a fugitive?” she asked, apparently more intrigued by that than the Fed.

“Yeah, we can head out one of the side doors near the lot.  I’ll just jack the alarm and we’ll be gone.”

She stared at me for a good fifteen seconds, then looked at each of the others.

“My mother asked me if I had made any friends here last night.  I told her I thought so.  Apparently, I was right if you’re willing to rush here and alert me,” she said looking at Rory, “—and you’re willing to leave school, disable a safety alarm, and drive a potential fugitive thirty minutes away.  And to think my mother was worried I’d be bored here.”

She started the sentence grim-faced but was smiling at the end.  It was the first real smile I had ever seen on her face, and it was really kind of amazing.

“How many federal agents did you say there were?” she asked Rory.

“One… how many do you need?”

A look flashed across her face that might have been annoyance but to me looked like she was offended.

At least four or five! I thought to myself. The girl could jump like a cat and didn’t break a sweat beating up big guys.  She’d obviously had a lot of fight training.  I’ve had a bit myself and I could tell hers was much, much more extensive than mine.

She was thinking it through, looking at a spot on the table while chewing a bite of pizza.  It was the same look she’d had on her face when she was taking the Calc quiz… without a calculator.

“Thank you, Rory, for telling me about the agent and Declan for being crazy enough to get in trouble for me.  But if it’s just one, I think I’ll just go see what this guy wants,” she said with another smile, this one smaller but just as cute as the first.

She got up, leaning down to get her tray, but Jonah grabbed an apple and Rory snagged her cupcake.  Jonah looked apologetic, but Rory was already unwrapping the dessert.  “Well, you know, if you weren’t gonna eat it,” he said with a shrug.

She smiled and took the leftovers to the recycle and waste bins.  I pushed the other half of my pannini turkey, Vermont cheddar, lettuce, tomato, and cucumber mayo sandwich toward the two boys, who looked at me, surprised.

“I’m gonna see for myself what’s up.  Got a study hall next anyway,” I said.  The three oatmeal and raisin cookies in a ziplock baggie went into my pocket, though.

I followed Sarah to the office, hanging back and trying to look inconspicuous. 

The Fed was easy to pick out, being the only dark-suited guy in the area.  About an inch shorter than me—maybe six feet—but built heavier.  Ginger hair cut short like military and sharp, light-colored eyes that locked onto Sarah with intense energy.  My first impression was military, not law enforcement.

“Miss Rosen, did you need to see me?” Sarah said to the old lady behind the office counter, who looked up, startled.

Her expression changed through dismay to resignation. “This man, Agent Kent, wants to talk to you,” she said.

I slipped into a chair like I was waiting for the Principal or something.  The agent man looked at Sarah then down at his smart phone, then back up, like he was comparing a photo.

“I’m going to need to take her into custody, actually,” he said.

“You can’t just take a child from this school,” Miss Rosen said, raising her voice.

Mrs. Jesten, the Principal, showed up at the door of her office.  “What’s going on here?  What are you doing to that student?”

Agent Kent was spinning Sarah around and handcuffing her wrists together.  Sarah didn’t resist, her face blank until she saw me sitting there, then she frowned at me and shook her head a little.

“This girl is not Sarah Williams.  Her name is Caeco and she’s a potential threat to every child in this school.  And I can do anything I need to with this badge,” he said, holding Sarah’s bound wrists with one hand and using the other to flash his creds again.  The gun on his belt, a 1911 type .45, certainly looked legitimate, although it was an odd choice for a federal cop.   Darci had taught me a lot about guns, as had Levi. It was actually part of the Krav Maga curriculum at higher levels.  Anyway, I knew that the Feds issued Glocks and Sig Sauers, not single action .45s.

Principal Jesten continued to argue with him while Miss Rosen was dialing someone on the phone, probably the sheriff’s department.

I already knew he was going to take her, so I slipped out of my seat and out the front door while everyone was busy.

A Honda Accord with rental stickers on the bumper was parked in the bus loop, smack dab in front of the school entrance.  I slipped down beside it and applied a sharpie to the bumper sticker, then hightailed it to my own car.

Chapter 11 – West

From his newer, closer vantage point in the bank parking lot across from the school, Mike West sat up as a tall, thin kid came out of the school and hunkered down by Machete’s car.

Nothing had happened for the first fifteen minutes after Agent Machete entered the school, but now a student appeared to be doing something to the rental car’s rear bumper.  The kid finished doing whatever he had been doing, threw something back into his bookbag, and took off at a lope for the parking lot.  He unlocked an older model Toyota Land Cruiser and climbed in, appearing to settle down and wait.  Every instinct West had was screaming at him that this kid was important, but he forced himself to wait like the kid.

Four minutes later, Machete appeared, pushing a teenage girl in front of him.  She appeared calm despite having her arms bound behind her. An older woman in a business suit followed them out of the school entrance and made herself obvious as she took pictures of the car, the agent, and the student. Machete snarled something at her even as he unlocked the car and put the girl into the backseat, then climbed into the driver’s side and took off.

Mike checked his tracker and found the blip representing the Honda blinking steadily.  He waited as the other agent’s car pulled onto the main road and away from the school.  The boy in the Toyota had started his own car, but he, too, waited till the rental was out of sight before pulling out of the parking lot and following.  West let the boy get a block ahead before starting out after him.  Staying back about four car lengths, he kept one eye on the Toyota Cruiser and one on the iPad tracking screen.  Even though Machete was out of sight, the boy appeared to be following him without difficulty, making turns that exactly matched those of the false agent he couldn’t see.

His first sight of the girl had confirmed his gut instinct.  She was the reason AIR was here, but the boy also tripped Mike’s switch and now, watching him track Machete without apparent need for sight, Mike was doubly intrigued.

Chapter 12- Declan

The runes I had written in black permanent marker on the rental led me like a faithful hound.  I had scrawled Tir, Rad, Ur,  and Cen, … the runic equivalent of the work Track.  Those simple shapes were all I needed to focus my Sight on the vehicle so that now, I could see every move the car made with my mind if not with my eyes.

The guy was headed out of town, but not toward Burlington, its tiny airport, or any of the local law enforcement stations.  Instead, he was kind of headed into the boonies.

Six miles out of town, he turned down a dirt driveway that was little more than two tracks in an expanse of trees.  A couple of minutes later, I pulled up to the same turn and noted two things.  One, I had driven this road many times and never noticed this driveway, and two, a real estate agency rental sign had been pulled up and dropped flat on the ground, making it almost invisible.

Checking my mental image, I saw the big agent man pulling Sarah from the car and leading her toward a small, rundown cottage. 

Turning onto the driveway, I let the Beast idle itself down the muddy path in first gear.  When I got to what I guessed might be the halfway point, I five point turned the Toyota till I was facing back out toward the main road and backed up till I figured I was as close as I could get without him hearing my car.  Leaving the car door open and the keys in the ignition, I was happy for once that Beast was too old to have any annoying warning chimes as I started walking stealthily down the rest of the road.  The whole driveway must have been a third of a mile long, so I was still several hundred yards from the cottage when I parked, which is why I didn’t hear the fight till I had walked for a bit. 

At first, it was just some dull rumbles, but as I got closer, they became distinct bangs and finally the crash of breaking glass.  Rushing forward and around the last bend, I found Sarah, clothes torn and ripped, face bleeding, bending over the prostrate form of the agent who appeared either dead or unconscious.

She spun at the sound of my feet, her body tense, her face drawn up in a silent snarl which turned to surprise.  She straightened up as I got close, studying me as I studied the whole scene in front of me.  The tiny house had one main window which was now broken, the glass glittering on the overgrown weeds and broken concrete path that led to the front door.  Lying unmoving in the middle of the walkway was the agent man.  It appeared that he had been thrown through the window and ten feet further out to the sidewalk.  Pretty good toss, as the guy had to go a hundred eighty or so.

“Did you kill him?” I asked her.

She shook her head as she watched me approach. 

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride to your mom and you two can get going,” I said.

“How did you find me?” she asked, her expression intent as she continued to study me.  Her cuts appeared superficial and her clothes were more disheveled than destroyed, although her t-shirt had a few big rips in it, a black bra showing through.

“I followed you,” I said.  “Come on, let’s go.”

She shook her head.  “I would have heard your car.”

“Heard my car?  While you were in another car hundreds of feet ahead?”

“I have really good hearing.  How did you do it?”

I paused, exasperated at her delay.  It wasn’t every day that I helped a fugitive escape federal custody, and I was more than a bit nervous.

Finally, I waved at the car.  “It’s marked with a tracker.”

She looked at the car, glanced back at me, then started a fast walk around the vehicle.  She stopped by the bumper sticker I had written on, looking from it to me and back again.  Finally, she came to some conclusion, turned from the bumper, and went to the passenger seat of the car, where she retrieved a roll of duct tape.  “He told me if I got mouthy, he’d tape my mouth shut.  He should have used it on my wrists,” she explained, holding up her wrists.  The handcuffs were still on, but the links connecting them were torn apart.  She moved to the unconscious agent and rolled him over onto his stomach. 

Grabbing both arms, she proceeded to demonstrate just what she was talking about by taping the crap out of his wrists and forearms.  Half a roll later, she tore the tape and sealed it to his arms, then moved to his ankles, which she wrapped just as completely.  A final piece went over his mouth, and she tossed away the mostly depleted roll. She really scared me when she unbuckled his belt, but it was just to get the holstered .45 and double magazine carrier off it, as well as the handcuff key from his pocket.

“Alright, let’s go.  Just so you know, I think you’re an idiot for getting involved in this,” she said, but her tone was much softer than her words.

“It might shock you, but I’ve been accused of idiocy before,” I replied.  “Ah, is he gonna die like that?”

“Would that matter greatly to you?” she asked, studying me a moment before going on. “He’s Juiced.  That tape won’t hold him more than a few hours before he manages to rip his way free.”

“Juiced?” I asked.

She hesitated before answering.  “He is an agents in rebus operative.  Blacker than the blackest ops.  His government ID would check out as real, but it isn’t.  AIR agents take supplements, a special formulation of drugs that make them faster, stronger, and dulls their pain receptors.  He’ll tear himself free, losing much of the skin on his forearms and hands in the process, but he’ll get out.”

“Are you juiced?  Is that why you can jump four feet in the air and beat up steroidal maniacs?”

“Do you know what they say about you in school?  That your aunt is a real witch and that you are too?” she countered, stuffing the gun and mags into her bookbag, which she retrieved from the car.

So there it was.  It had always been just a matter of time before we got there.

“I’ll tell you what.  You answer one of my questions and I’ll answer one for you,” I said, watching as she went back to the man and pulled a folding knife from his front pocket.

“I have a lot more than one question,” she replied, moving toward the car and flicking the blade open one-handed.

“Me too.  So we go back and forth,” I said.

She jammed the blade into the front right car tire, deflating it completely.

“Okay, so are you a witch?” she asked, voice casual as if it was a common question.

I moved over to the hood of the car, placed my right palm on the still warm surface, and concentrated.  A moment later, sparks flashed out of the engine compartment, followed by smoke, which dissipated and drifted away after a moment.

“Yes,” I answered.  “Are you Juiced like him?”

She was staring at the smoke over the car as she answered.  “No, I’m different.  I don’t need drugs.”

I waved one hand toward the driveway, toward my waiting car and she nodded, moving up beside me.

“What is a witch?” she asked, which I found interesting.  The few times I’ve gotten this far with people, they always asked if witches were real, even after a demonstration like the car engine.  But she was looking for a definition.

“Humans lost the arms race against the rest of the animal kingdom right off the bat.  Instead, our ancestors went for brain power, which, as it turned out, was the right move.  Part of what came along with our problem-solving capability was a group of mental abilities that allowed us to survive despite our crappy senses.  Most of those abilities have withered from disuse, but they are present in a latent kind of way in most humans.  More in some than others.  The modern world tends to label them as psychic abilities when it acknowledges them at all.  Science can’t figure them out or replicate them in a lab, so it says they aren’t real.  Yet countless examples happen daily.  The mother who knows her kid is in trouble, the teenage girls who call each other at exactly the same time, the businessman who seems to have a sixth sense for negotiating.  Some people and cultures haven’t forgotten these abilities.  Some actually work to develop them and maybe even choose mates to concentrate them.”

We rounded a curve, and my car came into view.

“So your aunt and your parents were all witches?” she asked, seeming to have no problem with the concept.

“Nope, no fair.  My turn for a question,” I answered.

“But your answer was incomplete,” she protested, climbing into the passenger seat of the Beast.

“Hmm.  You have a point.  Yes, my aunt is a witch, and so was Mom.  I don’t know much about my biological father, so I can’t answer for him.”

“He died when you were little?”

I waved a finger back and forth.  “Un uh.  My turn,” I said.  She nodded grudgingly.

“Is your name Sarah or Caeco?”

That surprised her.  I didn’t know what she thought I was going to ask, but that was obviously not it by the way her head pulled back as she flashed a look my way.

“It’s Caeco,” she said, now looking down at the dashboard.  I waited for her next question, taking the time to grab a couple tissues and a bottle of water from the gear I keep in the back of the Beast. I also grabbed a clean t-shirt from my get home bag. I handed all three things to her. Apparently, she decided she wasn’t done answering my question.

“It’s an acronym. Chimeric Adaptive Enhanced Combat Operator.  It’s actually my designation, but it became my name.”

She was quiet for a moment, which was good because I was trying to understand her answer.  She had a designation, not a name? A hundred more questions flooded my brain as I thought about her name.

“So your dad… did he die when you were young?” 

“I don’t know.  He could be alive for all I know.  See, my aunt and my mother were both raped.  They fled Ireland and came here, where Mom had me.  I’m the product of rape,” I said, trying to make it sound like it was no big deal, like I was born prematurely or something.  My eyes were on the bumpy driveway as I put the car in gear and headed out. No matter how many times I said it, it still sucked.

Chapter 13- West

The green Land Cruiser rumbled down the driveway and out onto the main road, leaving Mike West free to step out of the cover of the big poplar tree. 

The hardest thing he had learned in spy school was mixing procedure, common sense, and his instincts.  His gut had told him to park his car off the road a goodly ways past the hidden driveway and walk back.  Procedure frowned upon leaving his ride so far away, but he listened to his talent and had found the kid’s car on the dirt road, turned and ready for a getaway. 
Common sense planted a GPS device under the heavy front bumper, and when he heard the voices coming down the driveway, he’d jumped behind the tree.

Now that the kids had both left, he needed to find out what had happened to Machete.  Sidearm held loosely in one hand, he walked quietly to the house and spotted the hapless AIR agent just beginning to regain consciousness, trussed like a turkey on the concrete walkway. Machete’s rental car was sitting near him, one tire flat and the smell of fried electronics sharp in the air.

He pulled the strip of duct tape away from the other agent’s mouth.  Immediately, commands issued forth.

“I’m a federal agent in pursuit of a violent fugitive.  Cut me loose and give me your car keys.”

“Tsk tsk tsk.  You’re lying to me already, and we only just met.  Bad way to start a relationship, Machete,” Mike said.

The other agent’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

“I’m from Oracle,” Mike replied, enjoying the way the light dawned in the AIR agent’s eyes. He settled himself cross-legged on the ground.

“Let’s chat, you and I, about the little girl who beat you up, took your gun, and disabled your car,” Mike said, pulling a Taser X26P out of his coat.  The bound man in front of him locked his eyes on the black pistol-shaped weapon, then strained in vain against the silver tape that held him in place.  “Now, about that girl who is so damned handy with duct tape?”

Chapter 14 – Declan

“I don’t understand.  How can you rape a witch?  Couldn’t they defend themselves?” Caeco asked.

It was technically my turn, but I answered anyway.  “They were both drugged.  Only, my aunt woke up during the… event and blew her attacker off her.  Then she drove the man who was raping my mother off of her and got her away.  Aunt Ash is pretty powerful when she’s angry, but if my mom had woke up first, they wouldn’t have found anything bigger than a fingertip of the two guys, ‘cause Mom was world class.  Now, my turn, and I get two in a row by the way.”

Her eyes, which had been a bit wide, now narrowed, but she nodded.

“If I remember right, a chimera was a mixture of animals.  In your case, does it mean you’ve got stuff added to your genes?”

“Yes.  My muscle fiber has chimpanzee DNA, my eyes, inner ears, and nervous system all have feline DNA.  My synapses are influenced by mantis shrimp genes.  I was created in a test tube and born in a lab,” she answered, her tone very flat.

“But your mom is really your mom?”

“Yes,” she answered.  “You said before that your mother was a world-class witch, whatever that means.  Well, my mom is a world-class geneticist.  She was young, just out of grad school and full of ideas.  Brilliant ideas.  She was approached by the government—at least, she thought it was the government.  They gave her the best lab money could buy, a concept for improving humanity, and turned her loose.  She used her own eggs and frozen sperm from a carefully screened, deceased special forces soldier.   Initially, there were seventeen ova, nine female, eight male.  All of the males and two of the females turned out to be nonviable after the… splicing procedures were concluded.  See, she used a virus to introduce the genetic material, and it triggered immune responses in some cases.  Of the seven remaining females, five had complications from the added material.  Uncontrolled organ growth, failure of cells to differentiate, things like that.  They were all… terminated.  At the end, two of us made it to full term.”

“You have a sister?” I asked, not caring that it wasn’t my turn.  Apparently, she didn’t either.

“Had a sister.  She died early into the training program.”

“Wow, Caeco, I’m really sorry,” I said.

“Why, Declan?  I never knew her really.  I have only the vaguest memories.”

“Still, she was a sister.  It’s not like I would know… I’m an only child.”

“You say all that like it should matter to me.  Why should it?  I’m partially animal, less than human.  It’s like losing one puppy in a litter,” she replied, her tone devoid of emotion.

“Less than human? Are you kidding me?” I answered with a short bark of laughter that made her head swivel my way. “Here I thought you were good at math.  You have additions to your DNA, not subtractions.  You are more than human, not less.”

“You are attempting to present the circumstances of my engineered birth in a more positive term, but it is still semantics.  The reality is that I am not fully human.”

I snorted.  “The reality is you’re just pissed that you met a bigger freak then you are.” I felt her tense beside me, and a frantic little voice of self-preservation told me to stop antagonizing her.  I squashed the little voice and forged on.  “So you were engineered. Big deal! That just means your mother put care and thought into the child she bore.  I was bred.  Bred by rape.  My mother was the strongest witch seen in Ireland in over five hundred years. All of her ancestors had been carefully selected and married off to finally get her.  Like a prize cow. Her family arranged for her to be married to a male witch from Europe.  He and his brother came to call upon my aunt and mother and ended up raping them when they said fuck no to the whole thing.”

“Why not someone from Ireland?” she asked, which was a whole lot better reaction to my outburst than ripping my throat out, in my opinion.

“Witches are mostly girls.  The gene passes from mother to daughter.  Guy witches are rare.  They’re also almost always a lot weaker, too.  There were no unrelated dude witches available among the Irish Circles, so they went outside the families.  Made an agreement with some Croatians.  They kinda forgot to ask Mom and Aunt Ash’s opinions, though.”

“So you’re like a rarity or something?” she asked.  Our little deal was apparently forgotten.

“Big time,” I said. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like I said, most male witches are pretty weak, but they tend to produce strong witch daughters.  I’m not weak.  Aunt Ash says I’m stronger than my mom was.  And my gifts are compatible with tech stuff, which is a whole ‘nother level of odd.  You could say I’m a super freak among freaks.”

“That man you electrocuted with your hands bound?  That was your… gift?”

I nodded.  “Yup.  I just needed a source of power nearby like the batteries.  When the guy touched me, I channeled all the power I could draw, and it was a lot.”

“Did you feel bad for killing him?”

“At first, I was just happy to be alive, then when the DA was grilling the hell out of me, I got scared, but I stuck to my story.  Trey claimed he didn’t see a thing, which left them with a dead serial pedophile and two live boys.  We found out the guy had probably assaulted and killed a half dozen kids at least.  I didn’t feel so bad for him after that.  But I still have nightmares about it—about him.”

“I killed my first man when I was ten.” She had started to take off her torn t-shirt, but she stopped as she remembered.  “He was a rapist.  They took him from death row.  Gave him a deal.  If he could rape me, he could go free.  They purposely worked me hard for three days first, not letting me get much sleep.  Then they brought this guy in and told him that in front of me.  My job, they said, was to resist, run away, whatever.  Of course, my main instructor said, if you fall asleep, oh well.”

She pulled the shirt off, leaving her in just her black bra.  I tried to keep my eyes on the road and my brain on her story.  It was a struggle, till she got the new tee on. 

“I ran the calculations.  I was operating on about six hours sleep in three days and low rations.  This guy was fresh, rested and well-fed, and outweighed me by sixty or seventy pounds.”

“What did you do?”

“He leered at me and I ran.  I was faster, but like I said, I was already tired.  We were in a demonstration room, so there really wasn’t anywhere to go.  He cornered me and then I turned and went at him.  I went for his right leg and groin.  He protected his groin but I slashed the back of his hamstring with my claws and..”

“Claws?  Wait, you have claws?” I interrupted.

She held her left hand up where I could see it and flexed her fingers.  Inch-long conical points slid out from under her fingernails.  Claws.  The girl had actual claws.

“Anyway, he collapsed; I took his back and choked him out.  But they wouldn’t let me out of the room.  The guy woke up and started coming after me again, dragging himself.  I kicked him in the head and knocked him out, this time for a good ten minutes.  But when he woke up, he started right after me.  I was really, really tired, and he was still coming.  I got frustrated and mad.  When I kicked him in the head the second time, it was a lot harder.  He died and they let me out.”

“Your mother knew about that whole thing?”

She shook her head, short hair shifting.  “No, and when she found out, she went ballistic.  They told her to calm the fuck down or she’d be off the project.  That’s when she started to plan for our escape.  Took another seven years to get things ready, cash built up, contacts for getting false identities made, codes to breach the alarms and locks, stuff like that.”

“How did she know when the time was right to escape the… what was it?  A lab or something?”

“She didn’t, and yeah, it was a lab, way out in the desert.  But she’d hacked the director’s secure email account and kept tabs on his conversations.  When he got orders to terminate my project, she read them and we got out before they could do it.”

“Why would they terminate your project?  You’re like the perfect soldier.”

“They spent decades of time and millions of dollars to get me. I wasn’t male, which was a negative in the minds of the leaders, and it took too long for me to grow up.  Plus, I was unstable.  They had developed Juice by then, and it was faster and easier to find trained adult soldiers and Juice them.  Not as effective as me, but much quicker to produce.”

“What do you mean unstable?”

“You said I was the perfect soldier.  I’m not.  The perfect soldier follows orders exactly and fights like a machine.  I’m stubborn and have a wicked temper.  I resisted orders I didn’t like and when an instructor pushes my buttons too far, I’ve been known to kick their ass.  They could punish me, but they built me tough, so it wasn’t an easy thing for them to accomplish.  It was determined that some of my animal DNA was possibly effecting my emotions.”

I snorted.  She glanced my way, eyebrows raised. “Stubborn and temperamental?  Sounds like every teenage girl I ever met.”

I thought she might get mad, but she surprised me.  “Really?  Some girls are like that?”

“Some?  Try all,” I said, then changed subjects.  “Listen, do you want to risk your home, or head straight to your mother?  Who you should probably text, by the way.”

“Already texted her.  She’s on her way and no, let’s skip the rental home.”

“How did you text her?  You don’t have your phone anymore.”

She looked my way and then forward.  Went still for a moment.  Finally, a full ten-count later, she answered.  “Chimeric Adaptive Enhanced Combat Operator.  The Enhanced was an add-on.  A separate project—nanotech stuff that came along when I was nine or so.  Self-replicating nano scale machines that bind with my nervous system and feed me information. Nannites.  They act as antennae, picking up cell and wireless signals.  Each is like a part of a computer chip.  Together, they form a pretty powerful computing and memory storage system.  So I don’t really need a cell phone.”

“That’s why you didn’t need a calculator for math,” I said.

“Wait. I told you I have micro machines inside me and you think of math class?”

I reached my hand across, touching the bare skin of her left forearm lightly.  The static-like spark I had felt once before was there, but this time, I was ready for it.  A light hum filled my ears, although I was pretty sure it wasn’t an audible sound.  A wave of feeling passed into me.

“What did you do?” she asked, jumping enough to break physical contact.

“Why do you think I’m so good with computers, Caeco?  I can read them.  Sense what they are doing, running, computing.  Feel software conflicts and system errors.  I touched you once—by accident—the day we met.  When the keys fell off the table.  I couldn’t figure out what I was getting from that one touch.  Now it makes sense.  I felt your nannites,” I explained.  “Although that sounds a little dirty when I say it like that.”

She laughed.  A true laugh.  I hadn’t heard her do that before, not a full-on laugh.  It was a good laugh, deeper than I would have suspected.  I found myself chuckling with her, my stupid comment suddenly much funnier than it should have been.

“Wow, I wasn’t sure you could laugh,” I said in mock shock.  She snorted and smacked my arm with a really fast backhand. 

“I was raised by scientists and soldiers.  I have a sense of humor.  Odd, but there nonetheless.”

“Oh, so something like the Big Bang Theory crossed with Inglourious Basterds,” I replied, rubbing my arm when she turned to look out the window.  Damn, that girl was strong.

“Perhaps.  Now, where should I tell mother to meet us?”

“Rowan West.”

“You would bring this mess to your aunt?” she asked.

“You don’t know my aunt.  She’s probably already expecting us.”

Caeco glanced my way, one eyebrow raised as she considered my answer.  I turned the Beast onto my home road and headed to the restaurant.

Chapter 15 – Declan

I was right.  Aunt Ashling was sitting at the kitchen table when I led Caeco in through the back door.  She had three places set, with bowls of soup and fresh-baked bread at each.

Despite her awesome abilities at Divination, she was still worried.  The Craft gave her the big story, but a lot of detail could fall by the wayside.  She knew, from her Readings, that Caeco and I would show up, but she couldn’t know in what condition.  Seeing me, she jumped up and rushed around the table to hug me.  Then she spun around and hugged Caeco as well, a move that caught my genetically engineered killing machine friend completely and utterly by surprise.

Caeco stood awkwardly while Aunt Ash wrapped her in an embrace, her dark eyes looking at me a little helplessly.  I just grinned and headed for a bowl of soup.  Caeco’s eyes followed me and lit up at the sight of the food.

“Goodness, dear. Yer a right solid one, aren’t ya?  Declan, wait for your friend before making a hog of yerself.  Now, Sarah dear, have a seat and help yerself to seafood chowder before Declan devours it completely.  Fresh dill bread and butter, too,” she said, bustling around and getting the chocolate milk from the fridge. 

I knew Aunt Ash was just burning off her nerves and she would shortly settle into her calm planning mode.

“Her name is Caeco, Aunt Ash.  She was born in a government lab and they wanted to kill her, so she and her mom escaped.”

“Pseudo government lab.  Agents in Rebus is not really a government group.  It was formed decades ago by wealthy patriots to protect our country from a dysfunctional two-party government that changed leaders too often to be truly effective at defending our way of life.  It was created within the government and has access to almost every part of it, but is not actually of it.  Mother says the original intent may have been sound, but like everything else run by humans, it eventually morphed into something darker,” Caeco explained.  She sniffed a spoonful of chowder, her eyes getting round at the rich delicious scent.  The spoon disappeared into her mouth and her eyes suddenly closed in bliss, her expression just exactly like that of our cat Brona after a can of tuna.

“Where is yer mum, Caeco?” my aunt asked.

“I’m here,” a voice said from the doorway.  I jumped a bit to see Caeco’s mother standing in the door, eyeing us with distrust.  I did notice that Caeco hadn’t even flinched at her mother’s voice. Instead, she continued to devour her soup and bread.

I looked back at her mother and this time noticed she was holding a nasty-looking semi-automatic pistol in her right hand, which was thankfully dangling alongside her leg and not pointed in our direction.

“Mother, the gun is not necessary.  Declan and his aunt have done nothing but help us since we arrived.”

“You are still a child, Caeco, and despite everything you’ve been taught, all your training and the events of the last month, you are still too trusting,” her mother replied, although her eyes never left off watching Aunt Ash and I.

“Perhaps, mother, I have simply processed all available information, most of which you do not have, and arrived at a more informed opinion,” Caeco said before turning to us. “Declan, Ms. O’Carroll, this is my mother, Dr. Abigail Jensen.”

“Tis mostly a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Jensen.  You never did look a bit like a Rachel to me,” Aunt Ash said, looking back at the other woman calmly.  “Now, you’ve most likely a bit of time before ye must flee.  It might be wise to eat and plan a bit.”  She pointed at the third place setting.  Dr. Johnson raised her eyebrows in surprise at the extra spot at the table.

“My hypothesis turned out to be correct, Mother.  Declan and his aunt, are, in fact, witches.”

“Ye suspected that, did ye?  A logical, science-based girl such as yerself?” my aunt asked.

“You’ve seen proof, Caeco?” Dr. Jensen asked, ignoring my aunt.

“Yes, Mother, although as I said last night, I’ve been seeing proof since we got here,” Caeco answered.

“Wait, you actually believed we were witches.  How is it that you believe in witches?” I asked.

“Science doesn’t know everything, despite what some people would have you believe,” Caeco said, ignoring her mother’s eye flare.  “AIR has been nothing if not thorough in their search for better weapons and people.  The Juice supplement I told you about is based on proteins harvested from an actual hemivore—a vampire, if you will.  She was kept in the same lab that I was, so we had undeniable evidence.  She was a young one, newly infected with the virus, but she was much faster and stronger than any normal human.  She burned if exposed to the sun or UV light, and silver was poisonous to her.  There were rumors among the staff that AIR had samples of other mythical monsters as well, specifically lycanthropes, or werewolves.  Mother even saw reports from credible researchers regarding witches, so you can see where we might not find you to be implausible.”

“We believe in the possibility of witches.  Without proof, I, however, don’t trust my daughter’s ability to be unbiased in this case.  She’s only ever interacted with people in the lab and her combat instructors.  Despite her high intelligence, I think she lacks enough experience to avoid being duped by clever people, especially attractive young people her age.”

A micro-expression of hurt flashed across Caeco’s face before hardening into a glare at her mother.

“Declan, would you demonstrate for Mother?” she asked, her eyes never leaving Dr. Jensen’s.

Aunt Ashling loves candles. I’m pretty sure Yankee Candle Company mentions her by name in their annual financial statements.  It’s probably its own line item, maybe after regional sales, you know, like North American sales up x%… Ashling O’Carroll sales up 50 %.  The result is a veritable plethora of candles populating our living quarters.  Big ones, little ones, handmade, storebought, whatever.  They make great targets for my training.

I held both hands in front of me, left palm up, the right hand facing downward, like I was cradling something.  After a moment’s concentration that years of practice has made second nature, a ball of crackling blue plasma formed between my hands.  Just a small one, maybe like a ping-pong ball in size.  Dr. Jensen’s eyes were glued to it, but I could see her looking for tricks like I had wires up my sleeves or something.  I pushed the ball lightning across the table toward her, letting it float above the surface, little tendrils of snapping, arcing blue electricity flicking out in every direction, seeking a conductor.  The plasma ball, which stayed about eight inches off the tabletop, got close enough that her hair began to stand on end; close enough that the static discharge was palpable.  A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face as she felt the reality of its approach.  When she raised her eyes to mine, I stopped the ball, then pulled it back to my hands.  Letting it hover for a moment, I waited like a circus showman for the right moment before absorbing its energy into mine, clapping my hands together, changing its form and instantly redirecting it to multiple points around the room.  Candles everywhere in the kitchen and family room area lit at the same time.

Dr. Jensen looked around at the lit candles, even picking up the orange pillar candle in the center of the table to examine it.  Aunt Ashling was busy counting.

“I make it terty-seven, dear.  A new best?”

“Thirty-eight, Aunt Ash. I got the little tea light in the sculpted owl thingy behind you, too.”

She turned and looked, nodding.  “Terty-eight it is.  You see, Dr. Jensen.  Me nephew Declan is brilliant at manipulating energy.  Lighting terty-eight candles at once is more than a bit unreal, it is.  I can light four, some days five. Me sweet nephew is as much a product of man’s manipulation as yer daughter there.  Jest took a wee bit more than five centuries to get him, is all.  And we know a thing or two about running from enemies, eh Declan, boyo?”

Her brogue was getting thicker, a sure sign her emotions were running high.

“We know you have to go, Dr. Jensen.  Is there anything you need?  Any help we can provide?” I asked.  She was still staring, looking from candle to candle and not meeting my eyes.

Caeco sighed and pulled her mother’s untouched bowl of chowder in front of her. After giving me a little shrug, she started to eat it.

“Dr. Jensen?” I asked.  She still didn’t respond, so I pulled the energy from the candles and they all went out.  She jumped and looked at me.

“Ahem,” Aunt Ashling said, catching my eye and pointing at a scented jar candle on the kitchen counter next to the stove.  We all looked to see it was still lit.

“Damn,” I said softly, mentally snuffing the candle I had missed.  I gave Caeco a shrug of my own, and she grinned back at me between spoons of soup.

Brought back to the reality at hand, Dr. Jensen looked thoughtful.  “Most of our stuff is still in the car, although I left our bad weather clothing at the house we rented.  It’s been fairly warm.  Should have left it in the car,” she mused.  “Kept our cash with me, although it’s getting low.”

“Declan, would ye dig out some jackets and such for the ladies?” my aunt asked.  I jumped up and headed to the mud-room-slash-entryway, where we keep a lot of that kind of gear.  We live in Vermont and as the old saying goes, If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes. It’ll change.

After a moment’s thought, I also darted into my container room and grabbed some things there, as well.

Aunt Ashling was speaking when I came back into the room, the other two frozen rapt with attention.

“Me sister Maeve was the darling of the family, the best and brightest seen in hundreds of generations.  I was and still am no slouch, mind you, but me sister was in a class by herself, at least until her boy here was born.  I suppose I should have been jealous of her and the attention she got.  But if the family showered her with praise and flattery, then she passed it on to me.  It’s just the way she was, ye see.  I was her baby sister, and she protected and pampered me fierce.  See, our own mum died when I was born, an infection she developed after the birthing.  So my da had impressed on Maeve that she was to look after me.  And did she ever.  It also didn’t hurt me self-esteem that of the two of us, I was the fairer.  Just how it was, just as she was many times more powerful than I in the Craft, although I more than held me own at Divination, which is me own gift.   So we were the famous O’Carroll sisters, known across the county of Tipperary and beyond.  But when Mum died, the leadership of the Circle passed to another, her main rival, Macha Banfill.  Maeve was just a young girl, see, and though no one could doubt as she’d lead the circle one day, she wouldn’t be ready for years to come.

“Macha was of an age as me mum.  Grew up in her shadow, and although she was the next most powerful witch in the village, it was like comparing a clover to a towering oak tree.  And she only had a handful of years afore Maeve would pull the leadership from her.  So she plotted.  We studied our Craft, Maeve and I, and enjoyed being the darlings of the county.  Among the village and in the other Circles around the county, Maeve was known and admired for her abilities.  But among the regular folk, the ones who weren’t privy to the business of the Circles, well, we both got attention, and as I got older, I started to get more of the male attention.  So life was pretty grand for a time.  Our da was the vet, an important job in a farm village, and we studied our Craft and flirted with boys, me more than Maeve.  Till Maeve turned sixteen.  I was just shy of me fourteenth year at that point.  Macha held a grand ceremony for the pride of the Circle and right at the height of it announced that she’d arranged a marriage for me sister.  It was an old tradition in the Circles, see, to make the most likely matches that would strengthen the bloodlines.  Mostly, it worked out well, although it was usually done in groups so that some choice was left to the lads and lasses.  But Macha declared that there were no suitable lads in all of Ireland for our dear Maeve.  Instead, she had put together a match with a Croatian lad who was known to have some ability of his own.  Men of the Craft are rarer than teeth in a hen, but they do appear from time to time, more it seems in modern times.  When they do, they are much sought-after as husbands, as they almost always father strong witch daughters.  So it was that Macha had found the strongest male known at the time.”

“As strong as Declan?” Caeco asked.  I was frozen at the back of the room, listening to a story that I’ve only ever heard bits and pieces of.  Aunt Ash raised her eyes to mine as she answered the question.

“Caeco dear, a strong male witch is one of a level as a weak lady witch.  To my knowledge, there has never been a male of Declan’s strength.  Nor even a female, ‘cept his own mum.”

“Then how have you stayed hidden all these years?  I presume you and your sister ran and ended up here.  How is it that no one has tracked you down?” Dr. Jensen asked.

“That we did, Abigail.  Perun, the witch boy, and his brother Laban were brought to visit.  Laban was not a witch but of the same bloodline and therefore considered a possible match for myself.  They were older, nineteen and seventeen, and very handsome.  Charming, the both of them.  But it was a mask; underneath, their souls were as black as ink.  Maeve sensed it right away, while I was bemused by their comely looks.  She told Macha that she dinnae favor the match.  Macha was not to be thwarted.  See, in all likelihood, if the setup had worked, Maeve would have returned to the Continent with her new husband to lead the Circle in his village.  So Macha wasn’t having it.  She provided the boys with a drug, which they put in our drinks.  The plan was to get us both pregnant and force us into marriage.”

“But you woke up,” Caeco supplied, completely caught up in the story.

“Oh, someone’s been telling ya things, have they?” Aunt Ash asked with a look in my direction.  “But you’re right, dear.  I woke up.  Drugs and witches are iffy at best.  Some of us have a tolerance for these things.  So I woke up.  Laban was raping me, his brother on me sister.”

She took a breath and looked down at the tabletop, where her fingers encircled a cup of tea.  Her hands shook slightly, and I suddenly wanted to blow something up.  The light over the kitchen sink flicked out, causing her to look up—at me, not the light.  “Declan, dear, please mind the lights,” she said.  I took a slow breath, and the light came back on.

“Does that happen every time he’s upset?” Caeco asked, looking from the light to Aunt Ashling.

“Oh, it happens on occasion, it does.  But once, when he was just a lad of about twelve, he got really angry with a man who was calling me names.  We were in town, and half the village lost power that day.  But where was I?  Oh yes, the raping.  I got upset that day.  I’m a fair hand with Air, ya know and I was, ya might say, a wee bit motivated to get them off us.  I blew them through our cottage window.  Both were knocked unconscious. Did not know that at the time.  Was thinking that I’d killed both fecking gits, and glad for it.  I woke me sister, and we ran.  Found our way to here, much as you have, jest without the auto and cash and what-have-you.  And with a wee one on the way,” she finished, smiling at me as I piled fleece jackets and raincoats along with a pair of my sweatshirts in front of the other two women.

Caeco picked up a dark green Vermont sweatshirt and felt the thick cotton, but her expression was thoughtful, like she didn’t know she was even holding it.

“Would you have been upset had you killed them?” she asked my aunt.  Thinking of her own near rape, I realized.

“No, dear, and if I had, Declan’s mum might still be alive.  Rape is… I can’t describe the helplessness, the violation.  But it put me clean off men.  Didn’t trust a one of them, at least not till that one standing there made me realize they weren’t all alike.”

“Mom would still have died, Aunt Ash.  We don’t know who met her in Boston, but it was likely Macha or someone she hired,” I said.

“What happened?” Dr. Jensen asked.

“Years had gone by, and we had stayed hidden.  One thing the Craft is good for is hiding, and when practiced by a witch of the first power, it’s brilliant.  Centuries of avoiding the witch hunt has taught us lots of tricks for that.  But when me boy’o here was about six, we got this idea to try contacting the old Circle to see how things were, ya know.  The response was good: they wanted us to come home.  Maeve went to Boston to meet a representative from the Circle.  She never came back.  Her body was found in the harbor.  Made all the papers and the telly.  So me point is that I know what you’re going through, and that’s why we’ve wanted to help.  Now, Declan dear, grab the pantry money, would ya?”

I held up the biscuit box my aunt used to stash her emergency cash.  She laughed.

“We think alike, we do,” she said.  I handed her the box and reached into my back pocket for the envelope I’d grabbed from my own room.  “Put this with it, Aunt Ash,” I said.

She gave me a proud nod and pulled a wad of twenties and tens from the biscuit tin, laying them on top of the envelope, and pushed the whole thing in front of Dr. Johnson.

Caeco’s hand shot out, almost too fast to see, and grabbed the envelope.  “College fund?” she read.  “You’re giving us your college money?” she demanded, giving me a funny, unreadable look.

“I call it that, but most of my college fund is in the bank.  That’s money I got from doing computer and cell phone stuff at school, for kids and a couple of the staff.  Not much there, maybe nine hundred or so.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at the worn envelope in her hands. I didn’t tell her that my college money would only pay for a semester or two at best.  Didn’t seem important.

“We need to go, Caeco,” Dr. Jensen said.  “Thank you.  You’ve put yourselves in great danger for us, helped us when you didn’t have to.”

“As I said, Abigail, we know about running and hiding.  Speaking of which, could ya give the ladies some extra help, Declan?” she asked, tossing me a green Sharpie.

I started with Caeco’s mom, drawing eolh on the back of both her hands. It looked like a letter Y with an extra point going straight up like a three-tine fork.

“Eolh is the rune for protection,” Aunt Ash explained. 

“How can an ancient letter help protect us?” Dr. Jensen asked.

“Our Craft is about shaping and directing energies that modern science hasn’t yet truly found, although I think some of the work in theoretical physics is getting a mite closer.  There are energies and dimensions that we all feel and sense at some level but ignore because we can’t see or touch them.  We’re taught about our five senses, but anything else is fairytales.  A witch teaches her daughter or, sometimes, her son not to ignore that shiver you get from nowhere or the shadow you think you saw but convince yourself wasn’t there.  We train their minds to notice and, more importantly, manipulate this energy that Hollywood would call magic.  Some families use chanted language in the form of spells, others diagrams or, like us, runes.  We assign a meaning to each letter of the runic alphabet, and our belief and understanding of that meaning focuses energy upon it.  So when Declan writes Eolh on you, he believes that it will protect you, and his mind focuses and wraps you in power.  That power will tend to influence events around you.  The bad bloke seeking you may chance to look down or away at the most opportune moment and miss seeing you.  His radio or phone might drop a connection at the best time for you to get away.  It’s subtle.”

I picked up Caeco’s left hand in mine and again drew eolh on it.  My hand tingled where it touched her skin, and I could feel the presence of something below her skin.  It spoke to me, telling me her stomach was full, her health excellent, and her attention was focused on me, not my drawing, but me—my being.  Suddenly nervous, I picked up her right hand and drew eoh on on it.  If you took all the curves out of a letter S and made it from straight lines, that would be eoh.

“Are you trying to sneak a feel of my nannites?” Caeco asked me with a sly look.  I felt my mouth drop open like a door with a broken latch. Did she just flirt? She flirted!

Her mother gave her an odd look, but it was Aunt Ash who saved me because, to be honest, I was completely caught off guard.

“Hmm, interesting choice.  Eoh or yew.  The symbol of strength, it denotes defense.  A fine idea, Declan.”

“She’s a fighter Aunt Ash… a warrior.”

“I see.  Makes sense,” she said with a smirk that made me almost as nervous as Caeco’s comment had. 

Caeco studied the rune before looking up at me, her expression questioning.  “I am already strong,” she said.

“This will make your strikes and blows truer, even more focused.  We all have good days and bad days for our skills, times when we’re in the zone and times when we’re not.  You will be in the zone more of the time,” I told her.

“What if we don’t believe?” Dr. Jensen asked suddenly.

“I believe.  That’s what counts.  The abstract idea of luck or chance is what I influence with these symbols.  It’s subtle, like my aunt says.”

The older woman studied me for a moment, then straightened abruptly.  “We have to go, Caeco.”

Her daughter nodded and picked up the coats and sweatshirts.  At the entry, I held the door for them, but Dr. Jensen took two steps out and stopped dead.  Caeco’s reaction was faster; she skipped sideways, clearing six feet in a quick bound.  I turned fully into the doorway and spotted the reason for their reactions.  Outside, leaning against their Buick, was a tall, black man in a dark suit, his arms and ankles crossed, his eyebrows raised at Caeco’s speed, but with no other reaction.

“Dr. Jensen?  Caeco?  I’m Mike West, from Oracle.”

Chapter 16 -  West

Following the tracker on the boy’s car was easy work.  In fact, the damn iPad even suggested turns and directions in a female voice like the GPS in his wife’s minivan.  It gave him lots of time to think about what he had learned from Machete, who was still wrapped tight in duct tape and awaiting the retrieval team that Mike had called in.

He was lucky that Machete was young and inexperienced in interrogation.  Despite his Juice-induced tolerance for pain, the AIR agent was ill-equipped for the mental chess that a trained interrogator could put him through.  Mike had excelled at that part of his training.

He had learned that the girl and her mother were being actively sought by AIR and that Machete had been under orders to observe her but had jumped the gun and attempted a capture.  The reason that the orders were for observation only were now clear: the girl was formidable, likely a product of AIR labs somewhere.  The boy who was helping her was still something of a mystery, but Mike’s intuition was screaming at him not to ignore the kid.

The results were multiple conversations with his superiors at Oracle and his current plan of action.

The soft, familiar female voice that spoke to so many iPhone users around the world led him to a small restaurant on the outskirts of town, partway up the side of the valley.  The place looked tidy and neat, with a respectable number of cars parked near the front, but no Toyota Land Cruiser in sight.  Driving around the back of the building, he found the Toyota as well as a Prius and a silver Buick Regal.  He studied the situation for a moment before parking his car and approaching the Buick.  A quick glance inside showed a car that looked like someone was either ready to live out of it or on a long distance trip with it.  Clothes and shoes were jumbled in the backseat, and several fast food bags crumpled on the floor indicated a diet of convenience for the car’s owners.  He was studying the car when voices coming from the building’s rear entry caught his ear. 

A moment later, a thin, brown-haired woman came out the back door, pulling up short when she saw him.  The girl who came behind her moved in a blur, jumping sideways like a cat, instantly giving her a better tactical position.  The black-haired boy who owned the Toyota moved to the girl’s side, his blue eyes locked on Mike.  Before the situation could devolve further, Mike spoke.

“Dr. Jensen?  Caeco?  I’m Mike West, from Oracle.”

Everyone froze and, knowing his time was short, he continued his pre-thought-out speech, oddly nervous under the hard eyes of the girl and her boyfriend.  He held up his credentials and spoke quickly but evenly.

“I’m guessing you’ve heard of Oracle, and I hope you know that we would like nothing more than an opportunity to help you out of your problem with your previous employers.  I’ve spoken to my boss, Nathan Stewart, and we have a team on the way to provide you and your daughter with protection from AIR.”

“I know of Oracle, Mr. West, and what I know is that you can’t protect us from AIR, plus I don’t feel inclined to believe your words.  AIR already has an agent on the ground here.”

“Yes, he’s in my trunk, thanks to your daughter’s skills.  I have people arriving within the next two hours to take him.  We have a plan, and if you’ll give me a moment of your time, I can lay it all out for you.”

The girl moved forward slightly, speaking as she went.  “I don’t believe him, Mother.”  West brought the Taser in his right hand out from under his left armpit but kept it pointed at the ground.  The boyfriend smiled a hard smile at the sight of it and stepped forward.  Mike pointed the Taser in his direction.

“He’s telling the truth, at least as far as he knows it.  I think ye should hear him out,” an attractive woman said in a thick Irish accent from behind Dr. Jensen.  “Declan, leave off his Taser… they just make you all jittery, dear.  Worse than sugar.”

The boy frowned, then met the curious glance of the girl who was the root cause of all this.  He shrugged. “Darci, my aunt’s partner, gets mad every time I drain hers,” he said to Caeco. 

“That’s because yer always doing it just before she’s due on patrol, dear,” the pretty woman said.  “Now let’s go back inside and have some tea.  Come along, Mr. West. Let’s hear this brilliant plan.”

Bemused by her casual disregard for the tension of the moment, West found himself ushered into a warm combination living room and kitchen that was decorated in rich earth tones.  A rustic wood plank table centered the room, set squarely on a green and black wool rug.  Plants grew in profusion, the furniture looked comfortable and rustic, and there were candles everywhere. A salt pillar occupied one end table, and there were multiple natural crystals hanging in the windows to catch the sunlight and spray multi-colored dots around the room.  Celtic designs were everywhere: painted, carven, woven, and sculpted into a large portion of the decorations.  A big Vermont Castings woodstove took up one corner, kindling and chunks of wood stacked nearby and ready for the cold autumn nights.

Within moments, he was seated across from the girl, her mother, and the boy, a cup of tea between his hands.

This is not at all what I expected, he thought.  Gathering his words, he looked up at his audience and began to speak.

Chapter 17–Declan

The agent man was pretty smooth, looking mostly comfortable and confident as he sat across from us.  He seemed slightly unsettled by my aunt, but that’s to be expected.  Ashling O’Carroll can be a force of nature when necessary, and I shudder to think what she and my mother must have been like together.

“Dr. Jensen, I fully understand your concerns regarding AIR’s reach and the danger they represent.  If we simply tried a Witness Protection type plan, it would likely fail.  What we would rather do is continue your identities here, in Castlebury, and redirect their attention elsewhere.”

“Mr. West, the fact that the local agent can no longer check in with Central Command will alert them faster than if we called them and gave directions,” Caeco’s mom replied.

“Yes, if in fact he couldn’t check in.  But he has been and he’s already reported that the Sarah Williams he was sent to observe is not, in fact, Caeco Jensen.”

“How is that possible when he’s in your trunk?” she asked.

“Because I’ve been observing and studying Agent Machete for two months.  I know his habits and methods, I have recordings of his voice, and I was there when he received his operational codes for this month.  Oracle has spent decades watching AIR and learning their ways, and if you know anything about us, you know we have unusual methods of obtaining information.”

“What do you mean by that, Agent West?” my aunt asked.

He gave her a crooked smile, as if he was uncertain how to explain, but Dr. Jensen spoke before he could.  “They work much like you do, Ashling.  Their people have abilities of all kinds that could loosely be described as psychic.”

“Is that right, Mr. West?  Do you have a touch of the Sight, do ya?”

He glanced around at the candles, crystals, salt pillars, and Celtic crosses.  “Would I be right in guessing you’re no stranger to such things, Ms. O’Carroll?”

Caeco snorted at that, but Aunt Ash just smiled and nodded.  “Let’s just say we have open minds, Mr. West.”

“Oracle stands for Occult Research Alternative Combat League.  It was founded by Nathan Stewart to provide our nation with options.  Director Stewart had been assigned to investigate rumors of things that went bump in the night, supernatural things that the nation’s leaders were taking much more seriously after World War II.  Hitler had spent enormous resources tracking down supernatural legends and rumors, and when the Allied Command saw the things he had uncovered, they began their own research.  Luckily for all of us, they chose Nathan.  The result is a true government organization that answers to the president and employs people with skills outside the ordinary.”

“What would your own skill be, Agent West?” Aunt Ash asked.

“We don’t have a word for it, but it operates like a sort of super intuition.  Like I knew Caeco was important the moment I saw her, but I also knew your nephew there was unusual, just as I  believe you to be.  I excel at tracking down people and things that turn out to be extremely valuable.  But tell me, Ms. O’Carroll, am I right about you and your boy here?”

She studied him for a moment and I knew as soon as she pursed her lips that she was going to trust him.  I personally didn’t—trust him that is—but my aunt’s sense of these things is literally supernatural.

“Do you still have your trusty Taser, Agent West?” she asked.  He simply nodded, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Good.  Then would ye be kind enough to shoot me nephew here with it?”

His eyebrows shot to the top of their range and his eyes looked uncertain.  He glanced my way, but I was just smiling.  I do love Tasers.  Both Jensen women were looking at him questioningly, like his credibility was on the line.  He finally agreed, although you could just about see the second thoughts run across his face.  Slowly, he pulled the M26 from his shoulder holster and aimed it my way.  “You sure?” he asked.

I smiled and flexed my fingers at him in a gesture that most of the movie watching world knows as bring it on.

A twitch of his finger, and the needles shot out with the crisp crack of compressed gas.  One hit my left shoulder, the other my sternum.  I’m not going to lie… it’s a damned rush getting Tased, at least for me.  Darci’s usually stays locked in her patrol car, as the temptation is just too damned great for me.

Agent West frowned at the apparent lack of results, glancing down at the readout on the back of the gun.  “It’s dead!  It just had a full charge!”

“That’s ‘cause me nephew just sucked it dry like a fat kid with a chocolate milkshake,” Aunt Ash explained.  “Show him, Declan, before ya start bouncing off the ceiling.”

How to describe it?  Chock full of energy… zinging with charge?  None of those phrases cover it.

I was simply brimming with power.  Our family-room-slash-kitchen is mostly wood, with a bit of wrought iron here and there.  Like the hanging pot rack over the butcher block island and the black iron floor lamp by the couch.  There’s also a great big metal rod driven into the wooden floor with a candle lamp hanging from it.  What you can’t see is the ground wire that leads from the bottom of the spike, which protrudes into the basement.  The ground wire runs out of the house and into the packed earth next to the foundation. It’s there for a reason, a reason that I demonstrated by reaching my right hand near the rod and arcing every bit of power into one fat snap of blue lightning.  It left a char mark on the metal.

I’ll let you in on a little secret.  Tasers aren’t all that powerful.  They run around 50,000 volts.  A really good snap of static electricity on a cold, dry winter’s day can hit 30,000 volts.  They don’t even run at a high amperage, which is the real number, the rate of flow that the electricity moves at. Tasers work by pulsing electricity in a manner that disrupts the natural electrical flow of the nervous system. But if you take what power they do have and up the amperage to max and dump it in one massive jolt, well, let’s just say it’ll leave spots in front of your eyes and a mark on iron.

Agent West looked from the black spot to his bone-dry Taser to me.  “Damn, boy, that’s unexpected,” he said, shaking his head. 

“What’s up, Ash?” a voice asked from the doorway, pitched low and quiet.  Darci was standing there, in uniform, an ultra-short pump shotgun held professionally in both hands. Danger Will Robinson; when Darci’s voice gets like that, it’s about to get real.  I moved in front of Caeco and her mom, watching my defacto step-aunt’s eyes.  She noted my movements without response, most of her attention on West.

“Deputy, I’m Agent Mike West with Oracle.”

“Never heard of it.  Why do you have a Taser connected to my step-nephew?” she asked.

“Because his aunt asked me to Taser him,” Mr. West responded.  A glance at my aunt caught her nodding slightly to herself.  She could have answered before West, but she let him handle it as a test of sorts.  Which apparently, he passed.

“Darci, Mr. West is an agent of the federal government.  His division is tied into the supernatural. He’s offered to help Dr. Jensen and her daughter Caeco, who are in a wee bit more trouble then I guessed.”

“They’re the ones you told me about?” Darci asked, now looking directly at Aunt Ash.  I knew she was watching with her peripheral vision, and I’ve seen Darci shoot three clay pigeons thrown at the same time.  Hopefully, nobody would do anything stupid.

“We’re right here,” Dr. Jensen said, annoyed, but she quieted when Caeco laid her hand on her mother’s arm.  I’d already seen the girl move faster than anyone I knew, but evidently, she had decided jumping Darci was a real bad idea.  My opinion of the girl moved up another notch, which put me in danger of running out of notches.

“Yes, dear.  There is a group that hides within the US government but answers to no one.  They are Machiavellian to the extreme and consider Caeco to be their property.  I think they underestimated her badly, though.  We were helping them when Mr. West showed up and offered a higher level of protection.”

Darci considered for a moment, then breathed out slightly.  She lowered the shotgun, glanced at me and the blackened spike.

“If you’re gonna hang around Declan, you’ll have to learn not to Taser him.  He’s like a crack addict with the damn things.”

West looked my way and I gave him grin and a shrug.  What can I say?  Admitting your addiction is the first step, right?

“Who’s Tasing Declan?  I thought we all agreed that was just enabling his habit,” a male voice said behind Darci, who moved aside to let Levi through.

“The outside is clear, although there’s a guy wrapped in duct tape in the trunk of the rental car,” Levi told Darci.  Levi looked relaxed but his right hand was on his hip, not far from the .40 M&P pistol that was almost always holstered in a Crossbreed Supertuck inside the waistband of his jeans.  I asked Levi once why he always carried it in boring Castlebury, Vermont and he’d answered, “You’d be surprised what some people will do for a book.”

Aunt Ash raised her eyebrows at both of them. 

“We arrived at the same time.  Me ‘cause my shift was over and him cause he’s just freaky that way.  When we saw the cars out back, we got a little concerned,” Darci explained.

“Declan didn’t show up for training.  I got worried,” Levi said, studying Caeco, Dr. Jensen, and Agent West.

“Training?” Caeco asked, looking at me.

“Krav Maga,” I answered.

“Oooh.  I love Krav!” she said.  Levi just raised his eyebrows at the exchange.

“Young man, how were you able to do that?” Dr. Jensen asked, her eyes still on the wires and barbs sticking out of my shirt.

“My elements are mainly Earth and Fire.  Electricity seems to fit somewhere between both.  So, I just sorta channel it where I want it to go,” I replied.

“Elements?” Dr. Jensen asked.

“There are many different schools of what you would call magic or witchcraft, ye know.  Most believe there are four or sometimes as many as six elements of power.  Earth, Fire, Water, and Air be the ones our Craft adheres to.  Earth is opposite Air, Water opposite Fire. Most practitioners have an affinity for one.  Rare individuals are like to have two. Never two opposites.  If you’re being attuned to Air, then you can’t be attuned to Earth, ye see.  Likewise Water and Fire,” Aunt Ash explained.

“You said mainly Earth and Fire?” Caeco said, looking my way.

“He did, didn’t he now,” Aunt Ash said with a mildly exasperated tone in her voice.  “As I’ve said, Declan is an exception in many ways.  He has some small ability with Air, which should be impossible.  He is really strong with Earth and Fire.  Me own talents fall into the realm of Air, which includes Devination.”

“A man of many talents,” Caeco said to me with a sly grin.  I think I might have gaped at her, just a bit, but her sense of humor kept catching me off guard.  Especially since I hadn’t detected one when we first met.

“I will truthfully admit that I am fascinated by this… magic, but Caeco and I still need to be on our way,” Dr. Jensen said.  “Even if AIR believes your impersonation of their agent, it is only a delay.  They will find out.”

“Actually, I don’t believe they will.  As I said, Agent Machete already reported in that his assigned Sarah Williams wasn’t the one they were interested in.  If he has an accident on the way to his next assignment and ends up dead, then they will never know.  Often the best place to hide is the place that’s already been searched,” Agent West said.

“You would really kill Machete?” Aunt Ash asked.

“No, he’ll be our honored guest in an Oracle facility.”

“What if they inspect the body?”  Darci asked, caught up in the details despite herself.  Darci loves mystery novels which made sense… she is, after all, a cop.

“Oh they will, I guarantee it, but they’ll still be convinced,” he said with a grin. “My people are on their way as we speak and we’ll lay the whole plan out in detail.  How about that?  If you still don’t like it, you can head out on your own and we’ll even help you, but I think you know that Agents in Rebus will just track you down again.”

Caeco and her mother exchanged a long glance then turned back and nodded almost in unison.

“Why don’t you tell us your plans now?”

Nodding back at them West opened his mouth and did just that.

Chapter 18– Miseri

The ginger kitten was curled in a tight purring ball of fluffy fur, its rounded well-fed belly almost dead center of the motel room bed.  Miseri’s right hand idly smoothed the orange fur on its back as she sat next to it, her cell phone held to her left ear.  The ringing stopped as the line opened but there was no answering voice or sound.  There never was.

“Central, this is Miseri,” she said, then waited the half second or so for the voice recognition software to do its job.

“Go ahead Miseri,” a brisk voice finally said.

“Status update on target search.”

“Negative results to date. The initial list was reduced to thirteen possibles.  All thirteen have been cleared.  We are now conducting secondary and tertiary searchs.”

A frown appeared on Miseri’s attractive face.  “Any anomalies during the original thirteen searches?”

“None. Well…” the voice hesitated.

“What?” Miseri asked, voice curt.

“There was an accident with one of the responding agents.  Machete was killed in a traffic accident while traveling between his second and first assignments.  The accident was caused by a drunk driver who was also killed.  Law enforcement reports check out.”

“I want the details of his assignments, the accident and any reports he made, Central,” Miseri demanded.

“That’s not necessary Miseri.  The details have been verified.”

“Central, are you in charge of this search or am I?  Because it seems to me that the Director assigned it to me, seeing as I’m the agent who has been assigned to Project Beastiarius since it’s inception.  Are you suddenly an expert on subject CAECO?”

On the bed, the kitten woke up at the sudden tension in the hand that was stroking it.

“Transmitting requested information now, Miseri,” the voice said in a resigned, but respectful manner.

“Thank you Central,” Miseri said ending the connection.  Her smartphone pinged to announce an incoming email.  Looking over the new material, she continued to pet the kitten until it fell back to sleep.

Two hours and seven minutes later and the fifth time through the insurance adjuster’s report and the petting stopped.  Miseri sat up straight and reread the line that had caught her attention.  “That’s odd little hunter.  Why would the battery on Machete’s rental have an installation sticker showing a date one day before his death?”  She pulled up the rental agency vehicle maintenance report and checked dates of service.  “Hmm, not only that but this lists a different brand of tire?”  She pulled up an online map and plotted his two assignments on it then turned once more to the kitten.

“Time for trip, Talon.  You need to expand your horizons,” she said as she abruptly stood and began packing her few—but expensive—possessions.

Chapter 19– Declan

Death and taxes.  The old adage says they never change.  But somebody left out high school, ‘cause it doesn’t seem to change, either.  It had been two days since the excitement with the agent man and nothing was different.  Mostly.

I looked up from my turkey, avocado, lettuce, and cranberry mayo on ciabatta bread to watch Caeco weave through the tables.  A number of other people watched her as well, mainly boys, but also a few girls who appeared to be taking notes.

Agent West had been true to his word.  A small army of government types had descended on our restaurant and the little rental cottage that Caeco and her mom continued to live in.  Apparently, they represented an unmatched opportunity.  West had explained that Agentes in Rebus—or Those who are active in Matters, as it translates from Latin—were an uncontrolled cancer embedded in the very structure of the US government.  Begun by powerful leaders of a very young republic, AIR had been founded on principles of patriotism and national honor.  Somewhere along the line, it had been twisted into a much darker organization bent on accumulation of power and protection of its leaders.  Because it had moles in every branch and office of the federal government, it was very difficult to pin down. Oracle had fought a silent war against the shadow agency for the last three presidencies, mostly a losing one.

But AIR’s fortunes had changed over the last two years.  They had taken on another adversary that, according to West, had cleaned their clock.  Vast amounts of resources had been directed toward this unknown opponent, but all had been wasted.  West either didn’t know or wouldn’t say who or what the adversary was, but he did let slip the words he’s been beating their best.  When pressed on the he part, West had simply changed topics.  Back to us and the Plan.  Basically, it didn’t seem like any real plan that I could see.  We would stay in place, Caeco and her mom continuing their new existence as student and lab technician, respectively.  Machete disappeared into Oracle’s own shadowy facilities and a fake accident was constructed in western New York near the site of his second assignment, where a different Rachel Williams lived, one who worked in a turbine plant for General Electric.

There were some changes made to enhance Caeco and her mom’s covers.  The most glaring of these was the reason Caeco was attracting stares where two days earlier, she had been entirely ignored.

Her hair was a different color brown with blonde highlights, cut in a new style that I had overheard one girl in Calc describe as “super cute.”  She wore makeup, and her clothing had undergone perhaps the most drastic change.  Her previous style—well, let’s be honest; she hadn’t had one—had been centered around loose tees that mostly came from clearance racks and baggy discount jeans.

Her new look was fitted and obviously, even to my uneducated eyes, stylish.  Today, she wore black leggings tucked into cowboy boots that had their tops rolled down and layers of old belts buckled around them to create an effortlessly elegant look that was completely unique.  Her shirt was blue and made from some sort of wispy material that left it flowing in the wind of her passage.  Under it, she wore a stretchy white, strappy undershirt that emphasized her previously hidden curves.  Combined with her government-ordered and -issued physique, she was turning heads all over the place.  It annoyed me.

Which made me wonder about the whole shelter in place and live under the radar concept.  By making her a fashion plate and changing her looks from mildly pleasant to dangerously pretty, the geniuses of Oracle had made her stand out, not fade away.

“What’s the matter with you?  Smell something bad?” Caeco asked as she sat down and placed her brown bag the table. 

“He’s been that way since you got the makeover from that fashion contest,” Rory said, a touch of snide in his voice.  The fashion contest story was the one we were circulating to explain her changes, although the kids at my table knew the truth.

“Oh,” she said, then smiled to herself while she opened her bag and pulled out a Rowan West take-out container.  It matched the one I had, as well as the ones that Rory and Jonah were now bringing almost daily.  Started a trend all by myself, I did.

Candace still brought a homemade lunch and Jonah mostly did as well.  But Rory’s parents’ had placed a standing order for lunch, which I delivered to his locker each day.  Caeco’s was curtsey of my aunt, who had taken a strong liking to the girl.  I also got to deliver that lunch as well, but truth be told, I didn’t mind in either case.

“I just think it draws more attention, that’s all,” I said.

“Yeah and how!  The whole football team stopped eating when you walked by, Sarah,” Rory said.  We still had to use the cover name. “Those animals never stop stuffing their faces.”

“Oh, like you do?” Candace asked.  “Stop glaring at them, Declan. You’ll only cause more trouble,” she added, looking my way.

I blanked my face but couldn’t stop a glance at Caeco.  She was studying me curiously, but when she caught my eye, she smiled , blew an a errant hair out of her face, and looked back down at her food.  I know I smiled back, because I couldn’t seem to help myself. 

Damn, when did that happen?  I just met this girl less than a week ago and I… I like her.

Completely unnerved by that sudden realization, I froze in mid-swallow and almost choked.  I quickly took a drink of lemonade.  Rory and Jonah missed it completely, but Candace was watching me with interest.  She flashed a quick look at Caeco, who was working through her chips with intent, then shrugged to herself and went back to her own tuna sandwich.

Caeco’s strong right hand gave me two sharp pats on the back, which, if the lemonade hadn’t greased my throat, would have dislodged the lump in my throat.  She never even looked up.

The little flashes of insight I get when we touch told me she might be eating, but her senses were focused on me.  Great.  The girl could hear my heartbeat speed up whenever I looked at her.  Not cool.

“Hey D, you got my iPad ready yet?” a light voice asked from behind me.  I turned to find Jessica Connors in all her glory, a hopeful smile on her face.  She, too, was wearing black leggings, soft boots, and some kind of green blouse.

“Yeah, it’s here in my bookbag,” I said, reaching down to dig it out.  As I came back up and handed it to her, I saw she was eyeing Caeco curiously.  She smiled brightly when I gave her the tablet, handed me a ten dollar bill with her other hand, then turned back to Caeco.

“Cute boots!  That’s a really smart idea with the belts,” she said, then turned and strolled back to her table of cheerleaders and jocks.  I glanced at my tablemates, only to find Rory and Jonah’s eyes still glued to Jessica’s butt, Candace looking impressed, and Caeco watching me.

“What?” I asked.

She studied me for a moment, flashed a small smile, then looked at the ten spot in my hand.  “It’s gotta take a whole lot of iPad fixing to get to nine hundred?” she answered, more statement than question.  I got the feeling that wasn’t what had caused the smile but couldn’t be sure.  I mean, what the hell do I know about girls?

“I charge more for harder stuff.  Laptop fixing can cost like fifty bucks, so it’s not that big a deal.”

“Un huh,” she said, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

I turned back to Candace.  “So, my point is that the makeover ends up making her more of a target.  Nobody paid much attention a couple of days ago, but suddenly, she’s like the prettiest girl in the school and that’s supposed to hide her?”

“Really?  You think she’s the prettiest girl in the school?” Candace asked, eyes alight with curiosity and something like glee.  Rory and Jonah left off whatever conversation they’d been having and looked over with interest.  Caeco sat frozen in place for a second, eyeing me, surprise on her face.

“What? Ah… well… yeah, I guess, but you’re missing my point.  They did nothing to hide her!”  Caught off guard by my own stupid mouth, I rushed through my sentence, getting louder as I went.  The table next to ours looked over.

Candace smirked at me, Jonah gaped, and Caeco looked thoughtful, and Rory… Rory came to my rescue. “Yeah, he’s right.  She is the prettiest, or at least one of the prettiest, maybe almost like Jessica.  And that girl ends up with her picture in the paper all the time,” he said.

Candace frowned at him, but I gave him a nod when everyone’s attention moved to him.  Rory grinned as he read my little gesture as a solid thanks, dude, then waited for Candace’s retort.

“If you had a fugitive from a government facility that had never been in a public school before, was raised by scientists, and knew nothing about modern culture, would you look for her to be the standout school beauty?  Or on the Math Team, which she is, as of today,” Candace said.

“You’re on the Math Team?  Who are you?  I don’t even know you anymore,” I joked, glad to have the group’s attention away from me and my big mouth.

“You’ve only know her for like four days, Declan,” Candace said.

“Nope, I’ve known her for five!” I said.  “Met her last Sunday, remember?”

“I know about modern culture,” Caeco said suddenly.

“How?  You were raised in a lab,” Rory said, whispering the word lab and glancing around to make sure he wasn’t overheard.

“My training was all based on a special forces curriculum. Infiltration, guerrilla warfare, small squad tactics, demolition, and anything that would help me behind enemy lines. The idea was that I could blend in with almost any civilian population. My instructors were all special forces types, and I was encouraged to study television in my off-hours.  I had classes in social media, cellular communications, and adolescent psychology.  Watched sitcoms and MTV.”

We all looked at her in amazement.

“MTV?  My mom would have a heart attack if she knew you were raised by MTV,” Rory said.

“No offense, Sarah,” Jonah said, glancing aside at his little buddy, “but when you started school on Monday, you were a bigger misfit than I am.  It was obvious that you were—different.”

“Hah!  That’s my point exactly!” Candace said.  “We knew there was something odd about her immediately—no offense, my friend.  Now she could be a cheerleader, class president, or Captain of the Math Club.  But not Debate Team Captain, because I’ve just demonstrated why that’s my spot.”  She settled back, triumphant, and waited for a rebuttal.

“What do you think about this tactic?” I asked Caeco.

“AIR will search for me using the nation’s law enforcement computers.  The fact that they already know my alias means they’re running down every Sarah Williams in the country.  They use facial recognition software as well as NSA ELINT monitoring networks combined with voice recognition.  My school photo has been professionally altered by the Oracle people and you, Declan, so that won’t help them if they access it.  Mother and I don’t talk on phones, we just text each other.  Ground agents would likely be fooled by this new disguise, as they won’t be expecting me to be this well-integrated into the school’s social structure.  Except… there is one agent—she wouldn’t be easy to fool.”

“Who is that?” Jonah asked.

“She’s a senior agent who has been involved with me since I was a child.  She would know mother on sight, and I don’t think this disguise would fool her for long.”

“What’s her name?” I asked.

“Miseri.”

“I thought AIR agents were all named after blades of some kind or another?” Rory asked.

“They are.  Miseri is short for Misericorde, which was a type of knife used in medieval times to give merciful death to wounded knights.  Not to be confused with the Misericord shelf found in churches.”

The others were quiet for a second or two before Rory spoke up.  “You know, you really do fit in with our group despite your new-found hotness.  But that Miseri lady wouldn’t come here now that the Machete dude already cleared you, so to speak, would she?”

“It is unlikely, but then, Agent Miseri is tenacious and very smart.  Who knows what she would do?”

“Okay, so we just need to keep you from getting photographed, from talking on phones or microphones and off YouTube completely,” I said.  “How hard could that be?”

“Well, considering that every kid in this school carries a portable video recording device with real time Internet connectivity, I’d say damn near impossible,” Rory said.

A pair of eleventh grade girls came out of the swirling chaotic lunch crowd and rushed up to Caeco.  One held up her cell phone and snapped a picture of Caeco’s legs and boots.

“I looove your boots!” she said, smiling, while her friend nodded.  “Where did you get them?”

“I, ah, made them myself,” Caeco said, following the Oracle script for just this kind of occasion.  The makeover specialist had pulled them from a custom-ordered box.

I ignored the conversation and focused my attention on the phone.  Mentally, I pictured four runes while speaking their names under my breath. Feoh-Is-Ràd-Eoh.

Nothing happened for a second, then the girl with the phone yelped and dropped her smartphone on the floor.

“So weird?  It got really, really hot.  Oh no!” she started to wail as she picked up the now-apparently-dead phone.

“Let me see it,” I said, taking it from her before she could protest.  I made a show of looking it over and pressing buttons while silently reversing much of the damage I’d caused.  The phone lit up and the screen looked normal.

“Here ya go, Kim is it? Seems to be back up now.  Maybe just overheated or something.”

She took her phone back, looking from it to me, and then rushed off with her friend in tow.

“Erased?” Jonah asked casually.

“Yup, one phone down, about eight hundred and seventeen to go.”

“Yeah, and tomorrow is the Homecoming game.  Nothing to worry about there,” Rory said.

I didn’t answer, just glanced at Caeco, who had been watching me throughout the whole phone bit.  She smiled and once again, I found myself automatically smiling back. 

“So Tree, which girl did you ask to the dance?” Candace asked Jonah.  “Ellie or Jess?” 

“Neither,” Jonah answered.  “Alice Perkins asked me before I got to the other two.”

“Really?  Shy Alice?  Didn’t see that one coming,” Rory said around a mouthful of sandwich.  “What about you, Sarah?  Going to the big shindig?”

“No, although that boy Micah asked me to go,” Caeco said.

I almost choked again.  Which turned out to be a good thing, because by the time I managed to swallow, Rory had already responded.  “What?  No way!”

“Hey, Micah’s kinda hot,” Candace threw in, then looked at our faces and added, “Just saying.”

“You turned him down?” Rory asked, amazed.

“Yes, I already have plans.  Mother and I are attending the O’Carrolls’ Mabon ceremony.”

“Oh really?” Jonah said, looking at me, a smirk on his face.

“What?  Not my fault the girl thinks an Autumn Equinox ceremony with real witches might just be a tad more interesting than a stupid school dance,” I said.

“Why?  All you do is say a bunch of stuff and move around a big circle in the dark.  It’s probably gonna rain Saturday night and you’ll end up all wet.  The dance might be better,” Rory commented.  He noticed my glare after a moment.  “What?  I’ve been to a couple ceremonies, and it’s not all that exciting.”

“We have more than one kind, moron.  Some are more interesting than others.  We’re doing a protection ritual around the Rowan tree.  And it ought to be cool as hell—especially if we get a storm,” I shot back at him.

“Wait, is that the one with the iron spikes?” he asked. I nodded yes and he went on, “Okay, that one is pretty cool, but around the tree?  I thought you just did it around the restaurant?”

“Every three years or so, we do one around the tree.  Rowan is naturally protective and when we give it a boost it extends its protection.  Plus, it makes any wood from the tree that much better.”

“How can a tree be protective?  Wood better for what?” Caeco asked, rushing her questions.

“Now you’ve done it.  He’ll go on for like an hour,” Rory said.

I ignored him and turned to Caeco.  “If you will accept the idea that witches, as living creatures, can sense and manipulate energies, then it stands to reason that other living things might be able to as well.  Certain plants absorb the same energy that we do, and it permeates them.  Rowan is perhaps the most saturated, if you will.  Yew trees are as well.  The energy that you might call magic is neither good nor bad, dark or light, until it is used for such.  Rowan trees exude a kind of protective field and so does the wood, even when it’s dead.  That’s why we sell so many Rowan wood products through the Internet.  Rings, boxes, amulets, rune sets, all made from Rowan wood, are all better for practitioners than regular oak or maple or what have you.  And when we perform a protection ritual, it boosts the tree’s natural level even higher.”

“So this amulet you gave me is from your tree?” Caeco asked, pulling the wood disk and cord from under her shirt into the open.

“You gave her an amulet?” Rory asked, astounded.

“Of course.  We gave one to her mother, as well.  It’s much stronger than the Sharpie-to-the-back-of-the-hand bit.  That’s the field expedient method,” I explained, feeling defensive.

“Did you make the amulets, or did your aunt?” Rory asked sharply.

I didn’t answer right away, but Caeco did.  “Declan made them.  Ashling said he doesn’t do that very often, but his are more powerful than the ones she makes for the shop.”

Both Candace and Rory were openly smirking at me and Johan was smiling slightly, nodding slowly.  I could feel my face burning.

“Sarah, Declan has only made a handful in his life.  His aunt, Darci, and Levi have them.  The only others up till now are ours,” Candace said, pulling her own from under her shirt.  Rory and Jonah followed suit. 

“Oh!” Caeco said, looking down at the disk carved with the runes of protection and strength.

“It’s not a big deal.  So I give them to my friends. Sue me,” I said.

“Well, it took us a couple of years before we got them.  You scored yours in like a week,” Jonah said.  “Hmm, wonder what that means?”

“Means you never had black ops types trying to chase you down and she does, plus you’re so damn tall, I thought you’d get hit by lightning long before we became good enough friends for me to make you one,” I growled.

“What do these do?” Caeco asked, still looking down at her amulet.

Everyone turned my way.  “Well, they give you a boost of… I don’t know… luck, maybe?  Also, the strength rune will help your abilities be just a little bit more.  Jump a little higher, move just a little quicker.  Also, they repel other kinds of entities and provide some protection from other witches,” I said.

“Entities?  What entities?” she asked immediately.

“Wraiths, ghosts, some demonic types, and Aunt Ash says they will cause things like vampires to shy away from you.”

She didn’t say anything, and the others at the table all waited for a response.  She finally looked up and smiled at me again.  “Cool,” she said.

“That’s it?  You’re not gonna question the existence of all those things?” Candace asked, incredulous.

“Why would I?  He’s a witch, I’ve seen proof of that multiple times, and I’ve met a vampire.  Simple logic would imply that the existence of the rest is at least possible, if not plausible.”

“But you’re the product of a science environment!  You were raised by a geneticist in a lab!” Candace replied.   Of all my friends, Candace accepts who I am not because she believes everything I tell her, but because I obviously believe it.  Which is kind of cool on one hand, but at other times leaves her questioning my world.  She knows I can manipulate technology, but she has argued that it may have a scientific-based answer.  I argue that it likely does, but that science just isn’t advanced enough yet to find that answer.

She also has been exposed the least.  Rory has been with me for years and been a guest at family ceremonies where, despite what he said to Caeco, he’s seen some pretty interesting stuff.  Jonah has seen more than Candace, who really has only witnessed my computer and cell phone skills.

“Yes, Candace, but it was a very unusual lab.  As I said, there was an actual hemivore—a vampire—kept prisoner.  And there were a lot of other experiments as well.  Some failed, but others were successful enough to make even my mother question what she knew.  And both my mother and I have seen firsthand some of what Declan and Ashling O’Carroll can do.”

“Oh, just what can Declan and his lesbian aunt do?” a new voice said.  We turned to find Trey Johnson and two of his Neanderthals looming behind us.

Chapter 20 – Miseri

The sign on the front of the house said Richard G. Kearing Associates, Insurance Adjusters.  Miseri wondered just who the Associates were. Maybe either the curly-headed housewife who had just left the driveway in her newer Ford Focus, wearing yoga pants and carrying a rolled-up mat or the little yippy dog that was trotting around the yard but staying well back from the Invisible Fence flags that ringed the well-kept lawn.

The house was older but in immaculate condition, the white aluminum siding gleaming in the morning sun, set off by the black shutters.  It was a small Cape style, probably two bedrooms, one bath.

The business sign hung from a lamppost, unobtrusive and, like the house, crisply clean.  Apparently Richard G. Kearing kept a ship-shape operation.  Miseri liked that.  She appreciated order and cleanliness.

Pulling her Honda into the same spot Mrs. Kearing had recently vacated, Miseri climbed out and headed for the front door while automatically scanning the neighborhood.

A quiet suburb just outside of Rochester, New York, the rest of the houses were just as neatly maintained, and the lack of cars and general activity led to the impression that most of the residents were at their various forms of employment.  Perfect, although the quiet was broken by the shrill yips of the little canine that had immediately left off its marking of the bushy blue spruce in the middle of the front yard to begin protesting her arrival.

The dog met her at the porch steps at about the same time the front door opened and a graying, middle-aged man in a light blue button-down shirt and khaki pants stepped out.

Black-rimmed glasses framed serious dark eyes that took in her navy pantsuit, professional hair style, and bright smile. 

“Mr. Kearing?  My name is Missy Cord from Key Style rentals.  You did the insurance claim for one of our vehicles recently, and we had just one tiny little question that we hoped you could help with.”

“You could’ve just called,” Richard G. Kearing replied, a frown forming on his serious face.

“Of course, but I was in the area to review one of our outlets and my boss asked me to just run a few questions by you.  It was just as easy to stop as it was to call.”

“I remember your company’s name and the claim.  Nasty accident.  What was your question?”

“Well, you indicated that the car had four Goodyear tires and a brand new battery.  Our maintenance records show that car wearing Dunlops and not having any battery changes since we took possession of the car.”

“I already went over this with your office.  I even sent pictures,” Richard G. said, frowning.

“Yes, you did, and we thank you for them.  It’s just that we don’t like mysteries with our vehicles and I was nearby, so we thought we would see if there was anything else you could remember?”

His frown went even deeper and Miseri sighed internally, thinking that she was going to have to insist on a private conversation inside his home, where she could utilize some memory motivation techniques that he probably wouldn’t survive. 

But then the furrow between his eyes smoothed out and a eureka look spread out across his features.

“The battery had a Napa sticker on it for a store in Wilmington, Vermont.  You could always backtrack to that store and see who bought it,” he suggested, his tone indicating that he was self-satisfied for remembering that detail and close to being done with the conversation.

Miseri felt her right eyebrow rise as she considered that piece of information, and she gave Richard G. a bright smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Kearing. That’s exactly the kind of detail we were looking for.  We appreciate your time; always nice to interact with a professional.”

“Ah, that’s fine then, Miss Cord,” he said, puffing up a bit.  He bent down and picked up the little yappy dog and with a final nod in her direction, headed inside, closing the door behind him.

Miseri climbed back into her car, pausing to pet the kitten as she considered her next step.

“Machete’s first assignment was in Vermont, Talon.  How about we go take in the Green Mountains ourselves?” she asked the ginger kitten that immediately crawled onto her lap.

Chapter 21 – Declan

“Well, even my aunt could throw better than you, Johnson.  How you gonna win us the big homecoming game when your fingers are all taped up?  You should have just let the weights crush Otts,” I said.   Otts growled at me.  The big bastard still had a goose egg on his forehead from its meeting with the lockers.

Trey stared at me then lifted his right hand, bringing the strapped fingers into view.  Pausing for dramatic effect, he tore the white tape off, freeing his index and middle fingers, which he then clenched.   It hurt him, I know, because I was close enough to see the little tremors in the corners of his eyes, but otherwise, he didn’t show it.  He unclenched his hand and extended just the middle finger, which he turned to face me, then waved it at the rest of the table before ending with it in Caeco’s face.

“What?  You want me to remove it completely?” she asked, her voice flat and cold.  Despite his tough guy act, Trey flinched ever so slightly at her words.  He was afraid of her.  Which made him mean.

“No, bitch, it’s the number of chances you had at moving up from this freak show, but you blew it.    I heard the Feds wanted you for questioning.  I know your past is as dirty as that makeup crap on your face, and I’m gonna dig it up. ”

Caeco’s eyes went hard, the dark brown almost black.  The muscles on her left forearm were knotted and her knuckles white where her hand clenched the industrial polymer seat she was sitting on.  I touched her hand lightly and caught Trey’s eyes.

“Wow Trey pretty original stuff.  You really need college if only to up your game,” I said, and a few laughs came out of the attentive audience.  The whole cafeteria was watching the drama at our table. “So why don’t you and your dumbass linebackers go concentrate on not losing tomorrow’s game by too many touchdowns.  I imagine it’ll be hard enough for your dad to bribe and blackmail your way into college, even with a football ride.  If your stats go bad, you might have no chance at all.”

Under my hand, the steel cables that Caeco called tendons relaxed a bit, but the little buzz that ran up my hand told me a lot about the level of deadly rage she was feeling toward Castlebury High’s favorite quarterback.

Trey was studying my face, my implied threat to his school record received and understood.  He knew what I really meant by stats, even if his goons didn’t.  He made a pistol shape with his fingers, dropping his thumb hammer first on me and then on Caeco, then he left, shoving an unlucky tenth grader out of his path, his gorillas clumping behind him.

“That was awesome,” Rory said.

Candace looked sick and Jonah’s mouth was alternating lopsided grins with worried frowns.

“He’s gonna do something, isn’t he?” Caeco asked, ignoring Rory.

“Yep.  He’s terrified, so he’ll attack.  Nothing overt.  Maybe leave drugs in your locker or SWAT call your house or something,” I answered, trying to think of how to protect her from my poisonous ex-friend.

Turned out, I was wrong.  His plan of attack consisted of telling his mother, the President of the PTA, that there was a new girl in school with a troubled past that the Feds were investigating.  Tracey Johnson was arguably the town’s biggest bitch, the perfect stereotype of a small town queen bee who wielded gossip, innuendo, and status like a master swordsman.  She went to the head of the school board and the school superintendent, demanding an answer to what he was going to do about this federal suspect that was a danger to the children, the town’s reputation, and the American way of life.

Superintendent Gowin had already been briefed by Agent West, as had the high school principal.  They were under the impression that Sarah and Rachel Williams were part of a witness relocation situation.  Unfortunately, he let that slip and Tracy Johnson became even more incensed, downright righteous with the threat of criminal retaliation occurring in the school.  Agent West paid her and her husband a visit, explaining the ramifications of revealing a federally protected witness’s location and identity.  While her husband might be suitably impressed by the legal threat, I didn’t think hell on heels Tracy would be so easily cowed, although the word cow fit her well.

Agent West felt the situation was handled and we should just go about our lives. Myself, I had a flashback to fifth grade.  Trey was a spoiled brat even then, although we were still friends.  He got rowdy on the school bus and Mr. Wilkins, the bus driver, had stopped the bus and come down the row.  Grabbing Trey’s arm, he’d hauled him to the back of the bus and made him sit among the big kids.  Trey’s parents had called the bus garage to complain but were told that Wilkins was within his authority to change the seating on the bus to maintain order.  Mr. Johnson had settled for legal threats if anyone touched his son again.  But Mrs. Johnson cranked up the gossipmonger hotline and began a campaign against Mr. Wilkins. 

I remember Aunt Ash talking about it with Darci; that poor Mr. Wilkins finally left the town and his job, amid rumors of his predilection for child porn and a shady past history of maybe even criminal nature.  Somehow, I had a hard time thinking that the woman who did that would remain quiet even with the threat of federal legal action. It was only a matter of time.

Chapter 22 – Miseri

“Central, Miseri here. Any new hits on PRISM?”

“Checking Miseri.  Affirmative.  Subject name Sarah Williams tagged in cellular call via Verizon datalines.  Standby for replay: 

“ ‘…Megan?  Tracy Johnson.  Listen, I think I found a story you might want to pursue.  A new girl has appeared in Trey’s school.  Her name is Sarah Williams, but I understand she’s part of a witness relocation program, something to do with drug trafficking and murder.’ 

“ ‘Really.  Witness relocation?  Not sure about running that one, Tracy.  You can get in a lot of trouble with the Feds if you mess with that program.’

“ ‘But Megan, think of the danger to our kids.  You think Columbine was bad, what would happen if organized crime caught this girl in school?  Professional assassins in my Trey’s school?’

“ ‘But Tracy, if I leak this girl’s identity, won’t I be making that more likely?’

“ ‘Megan, Trey says this girl is trash of the worst sort.  She’s probably already dealing drugs in Castlebury High, all under the protection of Uncle Sam.  It’s just not right.’

“ ‘I don’t know, Tracy.  I’ll think about it.  Thanks for the tip.’

“Call ends.

“Miseri, call originated in Castlebury, Vermont with a Tracy Johnson and was received by a Megan Eridoni at WCAX Broadcasting, Burlington, Vermont.”

“Thank you, Central, that’s just what I was looking for.  Be advised I am en route to Burlington at this time.  Reroute Agent Claymore and place a Gladius team on standby.  I want complete taps on both women, including all emails and texts.  Notify me if the reporter makes any noises about investigating this lead.”

“Affirmative, Miseri.  Central out.”

Miseri turned off her Bluetooth earpiece and reached her free hand to the briefcase lying on the passenger car seat.  Glancing back and forth between the highway ahead and the black cordura case, she managed to get it unzipped and open.  Inside, rows of pristine government credential cases were lined up like stolen watches in a con man’s raincoat.

“Hmm, Talon.  The US Marshals run the WitSec program, so how about a visit from Marshal Miseri for that young reporter gal?  Throw the fear of God into her, or at least Uncle Sam’s attorneys.”

Chapter 23- Declan

Friday dawned with a beautiful red and orange sky.  I was up early, making sure all the restaurant trash I was supposed to put out the night before was in the dumpster.  Naturally, I was bogged down with my calculus homework and by the time I was done, it was so late that I forgot to put the trash out.  The sound of the trash truck woke me from a sound sleep and I managed to scramble outside fast enough to keep them from emptying the dumpster before I could get the final bags into it.

Crisis averted, the truck pulled out with a wave from the driver and disappeared down the hill, leaving me a perfect view of the colorful sky.  Then I remembered that sailors love red skies at night but aren’t so enamored of the same color in the morning.  Looked like the weatherman was right.  Storms headed our way.  Weather.com said storms and rain would be starting Friday evening right through Saturday and into Sunday morning. 

School was school, boring as hell for the most part, but, because it was Homecoming, enough kids wore their grade class t-shirt and generated just enough excitement to make it interesting.

School would end a little early to allow time for a parade through town that would finally arrive at the football field, where a pep rally would take place.  After that, the big game, although it had been arranged so that the game was a non-league matchup against tiny Middleton Central School, which was Division III to our Division II team.  Almost no chance of us losing. The grand finale would be the big dance Saturday night at the school gym.  Same shit as every other school in America.  Homecoming King and Queen and their courts; you know, standard bullshit.

I saw my friends throughout the day.  Caeco sat next to me in every class we had together.  Could it really have been less than a week since I’d met her?

Rory, Caeco, and I left together when classes let out early.  Jonah was going to march in the school parade with the soccer team and Candace was walking with the Environmental Club.  Of all her clubs, that was the biggest and best-funded, this being Vermont and all.  She would be riding the float, which was an actual working waterfall and stream built on the back of a farm wagon to show the importance of the water cycle.  Her group was going to hand out hand-sewn shopping bags made from recycled plastic tarps. 

Our plan was to grab ice cream at the local Stewart’s shop and cheerfully mock our friends as they marched or rode by.  Caeco was uncertain about the mocking.

“Shouldn’t we support them if they’re our friends?” she asked.

“It’s really very simple, Caeco,” Rory explained.  “Our waving presence in the crowd is supporting them, while our friendly mocking keeps their egos in check and has the happy side effect of affirming society’s expectation that we’re punk-ass kids.”

She looked at him skeptically.

“They know we support them because we’re there and the snide comments are just funny.  They expect it.  Keeps everything from getting too serious,” I explained.

She nodded.  “Oh, like soldiers do?”

“I guess.  Pretty standard for any group of guys.”

With her new style, it was easy to forget that we were the first kids her own age that she’d ever interacted with.  Hell, that prior to this, she’d spent her whole life inside a lab.  She smiled and waved as first Jonah and then Candace went by, but stayed silent. 

Rory made up for it.  “Hey guys, put the telephone pole back where you found it,” he yelled at the guys around towering Jonah.

“Anybody hear a high-pitched squeaking?” Jonah deadpanned to his soccer buddies, pretending not to see Rory.  The team laughed.

“Damned foot fairies,” Rory said loudly, earning himself some nasty looks from the players, all of whom were much, much bigger than he was.  He smiled and waved. 

“Does he always mouth off to bigger guys?” Caeco asked.

“Well, since everybody is bigger… yeah.  His mouth is always writing checks his body can’t cash,” I answered.

“Hey, I can hear you guys, ya know,” he said.

“And still, you don’t learn a thing,” I responded.

The football team followed the soccer players and almost immediately, Trey spotted us among the crowd.  He smiled a nasty smile and took silent shots at Caeco and I with his whole finger pistol deal.

“He looks pretty self-satisfied.  He’s up to something,” I said to the others.

“Should we be worried about physical attack?” Caeco asked.

I shook my head.  “More propaganda, most likely.”

Candace went by on the gurgling, sloshing waterfall wagon, throwing a rolled-up bag at Caeco when she saw us.  The lightweight plastic fell short, almost into the hands of a kid in front of us.  Caeco jetted forward, slipping deftly between two adults, and snagged the bag out of the air just above the kid.  The boy’s mother gave her a nasty glare, but she ignored the woman and slipped back to us.  I looked a question at the pretty girl who could kill with her hands.

“What?  She was giving it to me, her friend.”

A flash of insight hit me.  We were her first friends, and that was likely her first gift from a friend.  Wait, scratch that, my amulet was her first gift.  Okay, I’m not big on emotional intelligence and all that, but even I understood the importance of that.

The parade ended after the Environmental Club, so we walked back to the Beast and drove to Taco Bell for an early dinner before heading to the football field for the game.

The kickoff had already happened by the time we got there.  Caeco started asking questions as we paid for our tickets and started toward the home team’s stands.

“The announcer said Castlebury won the coin toss. Why would we choose to kick the ball?”

I glanced at Rory, realizing that this was her first football game, at least in person.

“Because choosing to receive the kick at the beginning of the second half gives us a chance to score when we might need it most.  Right now, the game is fresh and morale is high.  But many games are won or lost in the second half, and having a psychological edge at that point can make a huge difference.”

“Oh, so right now, there is still plenty of time, but once the second half commences, time becomes a precious commodity,” she said, excited to understand.

“Yes, but nobody our age uses the word commences for any reason ever!” Rory said.

“Right.  So now Middleton has the ball and our defense is supposed to get it back, right?”

Just then, the Middleton stands erupted into cheers and we all glanced over to see a Middleton wide receiver run across the end zone.

“Yeah,” Rory said. “In theory.”

The first half of the stands was occupied by parents and younger kids.  High school kids were further down the bleachers, and we headed into that jumble, looking for an out-of-the-way spot to watch the action from.

Late September in upstate Vermont gets cold, and even with cloudy, overcast skies, it was still chilly.  The aluminum under my ass was cold, and clouds of vapor rose around us from our combined exhalations.  Rory was chilled immediately, and when he discovered that Caeco was unaffected by the temperature, he huddled close to her for warmth.  I felt her stiffen by my side, then relax as she looked with a bemused smile at our skinny friend.  She must have felt my stare because she turned to look at me and then smiled again in amusement before nudging me with her shoulder.

Out on the field, the Castlebury receiver caught the kickoff and started a run, only to get slammed into the hard ground by a Middleton player, leaving us on our twenty-four yard line.  From the first few plays, it looked like we should have picked Middleton’s JV team instead of Varsity.  

Coach Manson finished giving final instructions to Trey Johnson and smacked him on the back as the rest of the offensive line trotted out on the field.

Johnson ran a quick huddle, then they broke and lined up.  Glancing up and down Middleton’s defensive line, Trey called the snap, dropped back, and bulleted the football into Micah Issacs’s hands.  Micah ran a quick seventeen yards.

“Oh, he is agile!” Caeco said with a tone of admiration I didn’t really care for.

“Yeah, Micah is easily the best athlete in the school,” Rory agreed.  “And he apparently likes you.”

“Apparently,” she agreed, leaving me with a sudden nauseous feeling. “But he doesn’t know me, Rory.  He likes my cover, my camouflage.  I wonder how he’d feel if he knew what I really was?”

Her shoulder bumped mine again, and my stomach turned to butterflies.  Rory responded without looking around.  “You mean a food hoarder?  A math showoff?  A fashion disaster?”

“No, you moron.  What I really am,” she whispered.  Rory grinned at her to show her he had understood her from the start, then glanced at me, his eyes glinting in the sodium lighting.

“Oh, you mean if he knew that Declan had given you a one-of-kind voodoo amulet, handcrafted by the world’s most powerful male witch for no special reason, like he likes you or anything,” he said, his tone completely sarcastic. “Yeah, he would drop you like a red hot rock.  Wouldn’t want anything to happen to his Honda Accord or his precious iPhone.”

I fixed a death glare on Rory, but he grinned back at me while Caeco’s hand came up and touched the amulet under her shirt.  She didn’t look at me, but I could swear I saw a glimmer of a smile at the corner of her mouth.  It turned to a frown.

“Everyone in this school knows you’re a witch, don’t they?” she said in sudden realization.

She turned to look at me, but it was Rory who answered.  “Kinda, sorta, pretty much.  Most people know Rowan West, mainly because it’s almost the best restaurant around,” he said, then held up one finger when I started to protest the almost part. “Admit it, Declan. Angelo’s vodka penne pasta is to die for!”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I admitted grudgingly.

“But anyway, they know the rumors about Ashling, and then they know how freaky good Declan is with tech.  And they’ve seen or heard enough stories about what happens to peoples’ phones or tablets or car electronics when they get on D’s bad side.  The funny thing is that most people would scoff at the idea if you hit them with it flat-out, but deep down, they all believe at some level or another.”

“So they are afraid of you but nobody gets all burn the witch on you?”

“Almost everyone here was born and raised in this town.  We all grew up together.  It’s hard to get panicky when the evil witch gets the same grade you do or you see him hauling garbage to the dumpster when you go to the best restaurant in town.”

“But they ignore you or turn away from you?” Caeco asked.

“Because that’s what they’re supposed to do.  You avoid the pot heads, you bow down to the Treys and Jessicas, and you turn away from Declan… unless you need something fixed.  Then it’s a simple transaction and your X-Box 360 works better than when it came out of the box,” Rory said.

Out on the field, Trey was marching our team in five- and fifteen-yard hops down the field.  We were now on the Middleton thirty-seven yard line and a touchdown seemed imminent. 

“I’m hungry.  You guys want a hot dog?” I asked, thinking I could get down the bleachers before the home side erupted with cheers. A light mist started falling from the thick clouds overhead.

“If you’re buying, then yes,” Rory said, “Cause I forgot my wallet.”

“Yes, no mustard please,” Caeco requested, eyes alight with the thought of food.  The girl’s metabolism was a scientific marvel.

I had just made it to the ground when Micah caught Trey’s slightly too-high pass and the stands exploded as my fellow students all jumped to their feet.  The concession stand was doing a steady business when I got there, so I slid into line behind some overexcited freshmen and waited my turn.  When the last person in front of me took their cheese-covered fries and left, I asked for three hotdogs, changed it to four, and three cans of orange soda and an oversized chocolate chip cookie.  The soda and plastic-wrapped cookie went into my hoodie pockets while I loaded the dogs with ketchup and mine with sauerkraut.  Turning to go, I spotted the reporter—a blonde woman, maybe in her thirties, pretty, wearing a pantsuit and holding a wireless microphone.  A veritable giant was holding the professional-grade camera and filming her as she talked to a couple of sophomore girls.

Hot dogs, prepared I started back to the stands, but veered close enough to hear the interview. 

“…I don’t know the girl that got grabbed.  She’s new here, isn’t she Becky?” one student said, looking to her star-struck friend for support, but only getting a giggle.

“Is this her?” the reporter asked, holding up a photo that I couldn’t see.

“I don’t think so.  The girl here is like really pretty and that girl there is like not so much,” the talkative one said.

Alarmed, I kept moving, but my sudden emotion must have affected the camera and sound equipment because the reporter suddenly yanked a hidden earphone from under her short hair.

“Jesus, Clay! What did you do?  Feedback about split my head,” she said angrily to the silent giant, who just looked over his equipment and shrugged.

“Never mind.  Thanks for the interview, girls,” she said, turning toward the bleachers and scanning the crowd with a sharp eye.

I put my head down and moved back down the rows of stands toward the student side, a bad feeling in my gut.

Chapter 24- Miseri

The damned wind cut right through the thin material of her pantsuit, and Miseri cursed herself for deciding to impersonate a reporter.  It had seemed like a great idea after she had finished scaring the crap out of that journalist, Megan Eridoni.

What better way to get teens to talk to you than pretend to be doing a story about one of their own?    But no one seemed to know much about the girl that Machete had grabbed, except they didn’t think she looked like the photo of Caeco she carried.

Granted, it was taken during a training exercise in the desert and Caeco’s hair was buzzed short in a military-grade crew cut.  Not to mention that her dull gray combat fatigues looked little like anything these girls wore. But it was the best picture she had, mostly because she’d taken it herself.

Caeco had always been one of her projects.  Fresh off her first successful assignments, she’d been tasked with overseeing security for the Beastiarius project.  Caeco had been just a tiny baby at the time, but still fascinating to watch grow into what should have been the perfect agent.

So far, the handful of students she’d talked to all agreed that the girl in question was very pretty and stylish, with cute hair, and wouldn’t be caught dead in those clothes.

Still, she was here, Clay at her back, and Machete had been a very well-trained agent.  She didn’t think he’d grab the wrong girl and risk punishment for not following orders unless he felt sure he had Caeco.  But the fact that everyone said she’d gone with him without struggle didn’t sound like the Caeco that Miseri knew so well.  Absently, she rubbed the ear that had taken the squeal of feedback or whatever that brain-spearing sound had been.

A tall, lanky boy in a green hoodie with shaggy black hair moved passed her and Clay, four hotdogs clutched in his two hands. He disappeared into the crowd of kids like a fish slipping through weeds. Something about him bothered her for a moment, but she let the feeling simmer while she continued to look for her quarry.

It took ten more feet of fighting through clowning kids trying to ape for the camera for it to hit her.  The tall kid hadn’t even glanced her way.  A television crew at a rinky-dink school like this, and every kid was either hamming it up or at least staring at her and Clay.  But that kid had kept his head down and eyes averted.  In her considerable experience, only someone with something to hide would do that.  Or someone to hide.

Chapter 25 – Declan

I hustled back to Rory and Caeco, glad for once that kids automatically moved out of my way. I have alternated for years between liking the fact that I can move through the halls or packed stadium crowds easily to hating the idea that so many of my peers fear me.

Middleton scored as I climbed the stepped bleachers, and up ahead of me, I could see that Caeco was soaking everything in.  Her brown eyes looked black under the harsh lighting, glinting a little as she watched the game with a vision that no doubt saw more than I could.  At the same time, her head was tilted a little as she listened.

I reached their position and handed out the dogs, keeping one for myself.  I stayed standing, making sure my body was between her and the concession area.

“We got trouble,” I said.

“What’s an onside kick?” she asked at almost the same time.

“Middleton would kick the ball to us, but attempt to recover it first, keeping possession and getting another crack at our end zone. Why?” Rory explained around a mouthful of hotdog.

“I can pick up the coaches’ conversations on their headsets,” she replied.  My face must have matched Rory’s incredulous expression because she explained before we could ask.  “My nannites can pick up wireless information at short ranges.”

Rory immediately turned and yelled out as loud as he could “WATCH THE ONSIDE KICK!” 

He managed to do it during one of those ultra-rare moments in crowds when the noise is less than a dull roar.  As a result, heads spun to look at us, but a few people nodded and even one of the players appeared to hear him.  That one moved over to speak in Coach Manson’s ear.

“Listen, there’s a television reporter here, and she’s asking about the girl that got grabbed by the federal agent,” I said, not liking the level of attention we had drawn.

“Really?  Is she hot?” Rory asked.

“She’s okay.  Kinda old for you, though… maybe thirty, but she is blonde,” I replied.

“I got this,” he said, standing to his full height and puffing out his bony chest.  I laughed despite my bad feeling about the reporter and completely forgot to mention the giant holding the camera.

“Maybe you should put your hood up and we could slide over a few more spots to put more bodies around us?” I suggested to Caeco.  Her mouth full of Castlebury High concession stand processed-meat product, she just nodded, pulling up the hood of the big gray sweatshirt she had on.  My hand rose to steady her as she stood up, as I would a normal girl, but she simply hopped up on the seat she had just been on and threaded a narrow path through the other teens like an Olympic gymnast on the balance beam.  Right, supergirl… I forgot.  I followed at a much slower and more awkward pace, catching my share of sidelong glares from my annoyed peers, although no one met my gaze head on.  We settled on the far edge of the stands, a metal railing to our left side, the ground twenty feet below that.  A much denser group of teen bodies now blocked us from sight of anyone not directly in front of our position.  Below us was the social mosh pit of the football experience.  Mostly middle school kids and a few freshmen, it was the hangout place to be for the younger kids, most of whom had no idea of the score or who we were even playing.

Out on the field, Middleton’s kicker stubbed the ball, puttering it just barely over the midfield line.  But the alert receiving team snatched it up and started a run that left us on Middleton’s forty yard line. Trey and his cronies moved out to take over from a much better position than they had yet had this game.

“I think you might have just helped our team,” I said in Caeco’s ear.  “What are they doing next?”

“Our coach is talking about something called a Ferrari F40?” she replied, frowning.

“Coach Manson is a car nut.  He names all the plays after sports cars.  I don’t know what any of the plays are.  You’d have to ask your friend Micah,” I replied.

“Micah is not my friend,” she said.  “He likes my new looks.  That doesn’t make him my friend.”

“No, just makes him a horny teenaged boy,” I said.

“Yes.  As a group, horny teenaged boys can be useful.  They seem to lose all brain power in the presence of an attractive female.  They will give up information, money, resources, even lie for a girl they are interested in.”

“You sound like a professor in a class,” I said.

She nodded.  “I’m repeating what I was taught in one of my classes.”

“Wait, they taught you how to get boys to give you their lunch money?” I asked.

“Once they realized that the only viable subject of the project was female, they decided I would make an excellent infiltration specialist.  Information retrieval, sabotage, supply line disruption… that sort of thing.  So they taught me spycraft in addition to my combat training.”

“You’re pretty scary sometimes, you know that?  Are you just using me for infiltration?”

“Oh, I’m scary?  Says the boy who drinks tasers and juggles plasma balls for fun.  And you friended me, remember?  Even when I wasn’t so nice in return.  So don’t go blaming me,” she replied, glancing at me with one raised eyebrow before looking back at the game.

“That’s right.  You were kind of mean, weren’t you?  How come?  Wouldn’t your trainers want you to use a guy like me?”

She snorted.  “Are you kidding?  My trainers would jizz themselves over a guy like you.  A computer witch?  Able to extract  and modify information and files with a thought.  They would order me to sleep with you.” 

I froze at the mental image that loaded itself into my mental movie theater when she said that, but she went on without appearing to notice my expression.  “Just because they taught me something doesn’t mean I have to use it.  I don’t like relying on others, so I didn’t want to have your help… at first.”

“What changed your mind?”

“You were weird,” she said.

“What?”

“You know what I mean.  Right from the start, there was something odd about you.  The whole hand on the engine thing, then diagnosing and fixing a problem that most mechanics would have trouble tracking down.  Honestly, how’d you and your aunt stay hidden from your own world so long?”

“Easy.  I never helped anyone like that before.  Anyone who wasn’t already in our circle, that is,” I answered.  “But why would you accept help from a weirdo?”

“Because I’m a weirdo, ya freak.  Other than Mother, everyone in the labs treated me as a thing, an experiment.  Less than human.  And as I got older and stronger, they started to be afraid of me.  So it left me with a fuck off attitude toward people… normal people.  You were obviously weird, and then I saw how most of the kids are afraid of you or avoid you, but you still have a group of friends and even the regular kids, the very ones that are scared of you, look to you for your skills.  Corny as its gonna sound, it gave me hope that I could have that, too.”

“I don’t think that sounds corny,” I said, leaning close enough that our heads were in danger of bumping.  “Hoping that one day, if you applied yourself, you could be a freak like me doesn’t sound corny at all.”

“You ass!” she said, blurring back as a resounding smack impacted my left shoulder.  Owww.  Okay, note to self: Do not tease the super soldier!

Rubbing my shoulder, I checked to see if she was really mad, but despite the glare she was giving me, her mouth kept twitching at the corners and her eyes were laughing.

A sudden thumping on the aluminum bleachers announced an incoming body, and we both glanced over to see Rory bounding awkwardly up the stands.

“Have no fear, mortals, Rory is here!” he said with a flourish.

“Hey Tessing!  Sit your scrawny ass down!” a voice yelled from up behind us.  Rory flumped down quickly, still grinning at both of us like he’d just won American Idol or something.

“Took care of that little problem.  Casually bumped into her and then when she asked about Sarah Williams, I said I thought I’d seen you head to the girls bathrooms inside.  I don’t think you’ll see her for a while,” he said with a smug look.  “No worries.  How’s the game?”

“Interesting, Rory, very interesting,” Caeco said with a smirk.  “The football’s not bad either.”

“What?  What do you mean?  Hey, I missed something, didn’t I?” he asked, looking back and forth between us.

“Nah, Trey’s about to score again, I think,” I said, exchanging a smile with Caeco.  Game indeed!

The gentle mist turned aggressive, becoming fat drops of cold rain, scattered at first, but rapidly building in tempo.  I felt a tension in the back on the back of my head, like when you laugh too much.  It was familiar, and it warned me that the weather was just getting started. The rest of the game was going to be miserable. The tingle that traveled to my fingertips told me that it might be cancelled altogether.

Caeco reached into the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie and pulled out a compact yellow umbrella that opened to reveal it was decorated with various cats.  I gave her a raised eyebrow even as the three of us huddled under the too-small cover it provided. 

“What?  I was trained to be prepared.  I’m surprised you don’t have one with little witches on it,” she said.

“Declan was never in the Boy Scouts, although he’s got the whole rub-two-sticks together thing beat by a mile for fire starting,” Rory said.  “While you were in what?  The Kill Scouts?  Assassin’s Creedelos?  Instead of Webelos.”

“How’d you know that?  How did you know I was a Kill Scout?” Caeco asked, deadly serious.  “You a spy, Tessing?”

He went white as a sheet, which was impressive because he’s normally pretty pale, and pulled back, but her hand shot out and grabbed his sweatshirt.  Then she laughed, and I laughed, because the little tremor of information I was getting from her nannites had told me she was playing. 

“Holy shit!  I think I just crapped myself.  When you grabbed me—I thought you were gonna off me or something,” Rory said in a rush.  “Dude, don’t let me pick on her anymore!  Not good for my heart.” He rubbed his chest to make the point.

A streak of actinic light lit up the stormy sky and four seconds later, the boom of thunder rolled over the crowd.  A second flash of lightning struck, and the refs blew their whistles.  The game announcer came on the sound system.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the officials have called a referees’ time out due to the lightning.  The teams will head into the locker rooms and we ask you to please clear off the metal stands.  If the storm passes by, play will recommence.”

The tingle in my fingertips now covered me head to toe, leaving me almost bouncing on my feet as we stood up to leave.  Caeco appeared to be in a hurry.

“Come on, you two!  Lightning’s no joke and these stands are giant lightning rods,” she said, frowning at us.  We were moving with no particular haste.

“Relax. Nothing is gonna hit anywhere near us while Johnny Electric here is with us,” Rory said, nodding in my direction.  I wasn’t paying much attention, instead watching the sky above us and smelling the ozone in the air.  I like thunderstorms… scratch that.  I love thunderstorms. 

“Hey, O’Carroll, snap out of it!  Focus on walking, buddy,” Rory said, clapping his hands to get my attention.

“He gets all drifty when there’s lightning,” I heard him say to Caeco, who was staring at me like I was a druggie on meth.

“I just like feeling the storm that’s all,” I replied, glancing at my feet before bounding past my little buddy.  All three of us were on the gravel path, the rest of the crowd ahead of us, all moving toward the parking lots or the covered walkway outside the rear entrance to the school.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, local radar indicates the storm should pass over us in the next twenty minutes or so.  As soon as it is considered safe, the referees will restart the game.  Until then, we suggest you shelter in your vehicles or in the East gymnasium, which staff is opening.”

“Let’s head into the gym,” Rory suggested since we were already headed that way.

The East gym is the smaller of Castlebury’s two high school gyms, but it was big enough for most of the crowd to huddle inside.  Let’s face it:  Castlebury is really just a bedroom community for the Burlington and Essex Junction area.  The whole population of the town could probably fit into both the gyms.  So while it was a little crowded, it wasn’t bad.  Frankly, most of the younger kids didn’t care if they were out on the field or inside; the social gathering of their friends was the only important factor.  The adults all gravitated to each other, and the older kids formed circles.  We were standing together, forming our own group, when Candace found us.

“Hey guys, what’s happening?” she asked.  We all shrugged, not having a great deal of exciting news, so she went on.  “Hey look, there’s a reporter!” she said, pointing.  

Across the gym, standing just outside the boys’ locker room, the blonde reporter and her giant camera man were interviewing Trey Johnson.  He was nodding at her question, looking at her photo, then looking out around the gym.  His eyes found me and my companions, and a triumphant sneer spread across his features.  He pointed our way and before we could move, the reporter’s head swiveled to us.  Caeco froze, then darted behind my back and into the crowd.  She shoved her way through the bodies, moving so fast, it was hard for me to catch up, even with the kids making way for me.

“What is it?”

“That’s Miseri… Agent Miseri!  I’ve got to get out of here!” she said.

“Not that way!  It’ll be blocked.  The janitors always lock the doors on that side.  Here, come with me,” I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her sideways into the door on my right.  It would be the quickest way into the school proper, although I had never been through that particular door myself, seeing as it said Girls Locker Room in big letters across the wood.  Still, I knew that it mirrored the boys locker room across the gym, both having access doors to the hallway outside the cafeteria.

Behind us, I saw Rory, who had no chance of keeping up, fall back and deliberately get in the way of the lady reporter and her giant, who had dropped his camera and started our way.  The lady was speaking into her shirt sleeve as I slid into the locker room and immediately faced a dozen shocked faces. 

Ignoring the suddenly vocal and outraged cheerleaders, some of whom were changing out of wet uniforms and toweling off, I pulled Caeco past the lockers, the bathrooms, and the running showers where tantalizing glimpses of flesh almost distracted me, and then out into the hall.

We turned left toward the main entrance but down the hall, two black-uniformed men with rifles turned the corner and shouted when they saw us.  We turned and bolted back the other way, deeper into the school.   Despite my much longer legs, Caeco had pulled ahead of me almost instantly.  She slowed slightly when she looked back. I sped up, reaching for reserves of speed I hadn’t had to access in years. 

I don’t play organized sports a) because athletics are visible in local papers, television, and on the Internet, and b) most of my peers tend to fear and avoid me, including the coaches.  Levi had me run with him, but it was a jog type run, not a flat-out sprint.  But fear is a wonderful motivator and guys in black ops swat suits with assault rifles tend to scare me.  I kept up… barely. 

The hall opened up into the classroom area: two floors of lockers and mostly locked doors.  There were also multiple fire exits, but as we drew close to the first of those, I could see flashlight beams playing across the windows in the doors.

Caeco stopped to try a classroom door, but it was locked.  They all would be.  But I knew a couple of things—like the three-digit combination to the teachers’ lounge.  They never changed it and I had been dragged in there dozens of times to fix laptops, tablets, and cell phones. 

I punched in the numbers and yanked the door open.  Caeco darted in after me, moving so fast that she was fully in the room before I was.  The door locked itself as I closed it, and I moved deeper into the dark room.   In the back corner, chest height on the wall, was a locked metal box about the size of a box of Munchkins from Dunkin Donuts.  I pointed it out to Caeco. 

“If we can open that, there is a master key to all the doors in this section of the school.”

She glanced at me, slid over to the box, and examined it.  Then she cocked her head and listened.  “They’re outside the building, and two search teams are coming in behind us,” she said, tapping the side of her head rather than her ears.  I got it.  She was listening to their communications with her nannites.

She gripped the box with both hands and ripped it off the wall.  It was still shut, but before I could point that out, she worked the fingers of her right hand under the edge of the lid and pressed the box down on a table with her left.  Then she pulled.  The metal squeaked and squealed in protest, but it gave up the fight after a few seconds, the lid snapping open with a loud bang.  Triumphantly, she held up the key.  Blood dripped down her hand.  I ignored the key and grabbed her right hand; the sharp lid had cut her fingers.  Looking around, I spotted the school-mandated first aid kit on the wall and plucked it off.  At least it wasn’t locked.

The kit yielded gauze wrap, which went around each torn finger and tied off at the back.  She flexed her bandaged hand and gave me an odd smile. 

I picked up the key.  “This will let us in everywhere.  The floor above doesn’t cover the full footprint of the building.  It’s slightly smaller.  There is an emergency door next to the Chem Lab.  It leads outside to a fire escape. We can get down from there, and we end up across from the parking lot.”

“They have people on the ground,” she replied.

“We need to call Agent West and have him send his people here.  The Chem lab could buy us some time.”

“I’ve already texted his cell.  He’s on his way, but I doubt his men will be a match for Juiced soldiers.”

“They’re stronger, faster, and better equipped.  We need to put them off balance,” I replied.  We looked at each other, both of us starting to grin.  “The Chem lab!” she said as I nodded.

Slipping back into the hall, I noticed a red light on the wall-mounted camera system.  I held out a hand and concentrated.  The light died.  We moved.

Chapter 26 – Miseri

The crowded gym chocked full of noisy, bleating adolescents had been worse than walking into an urban firefight.  It was a measure of Miseri’s devotion to duty that she didn’t turn around and escape the mass of sheep she was technically supposed to protect.

The American civilian had fallen far from the solid, independent colonists that Agentes in Rebus had been created to serve.  These mewling, self-absorbed parasites were weak in body and mind, and to Miseri, it seemed, unworthy of her organizations’ efforts.  But that was not her call.

Finding AIR’s wayward 112-million-dollar teenage weapons system was her task.  Luck was with her as the door to the boys’ locker room opened and the well-constructed young quarterback appeared, his bored eyes looking about for someone.  When he spotted her and Clay standing fifteen feet away, his expression changed to delighted interest.

Another self-absorbed adolescent, but at least one who was an appropriate physical specimen, Miseri thought.

“Mr. Johnson is it?” she asked quickly, hoping she remembered the name the announcer had been braying throughout the game.

A pleased smile formed on the handsome young athlete’s face.  It was a mixture of pretend delight and self-satisfaction, which became completely fake as he mastered his features.

“A moment for the camera?” she asked.

“Certainly,” he replied, moving forward to close the distance.

“You are obviously playing well tonight, but so is your opposite number on the Middleton team.  Any comments?”

He grimaced.  “If I was lucky enough to face a defense as poorly prepared as Castlebury’s, this game would already be in the bag.”

She asked him a few more game-related questions, all guaranteed to feed his overinflated ego as he laid the blame for everything on virtually everyone else, then moved to her real question.

“Trey, you seem to be dialed into this school.  Your insight is the best I’ve seen tonight.  One of my sideline stories is about the attempt by federal authorities to arrest one of your fellow students.  Do you know anything about that?”

He frowned, not liking that the topic had moved from him, but preening slightly at her description of his perception.  “You mean the new girl?  Williams, right?”

“Yes.  What can you tell me?”

“I think the Feds should have taken her the first time, if you ask me.  The girl’s obviously got issues.  She’s violent and almost certainly a criminal.”

Wow, Caeco must have shut this one down hard to earn that much dislike! Miseri reflected.

“Tell me. I’ve obtained a copy of the photo the agent was working from.  Does this look like the Williams girl?” she asked, showing him her photo of Caeco.

He frowned, shaking his head.  “Not now.  Maybe before, when she first arrived, but now that she’s had some kind of makeover, she doesn’t match.”

Miseri’s heart beat faster at his words.  Not now?  But earlier?  Gotcha!

“Have you seen her tonight?” she asked.

He was losing interest in the interview, now that he was no longer its focal point.  “No, but all you have to do is find that freak, O’Carroll, and you should find her,” he said, scanning the gym.

“There, the tall kid in the dark green hoodie.  He’s a criminal, too, as far as I’m concerned,” he said, pointing across the gym at a slim young man who looked familiar.  Then the boy moved slightly and a pretty girl became visible behind him.  She didn’t look like Caeco, but her movements were familiar, smooth and controlled.  The girl looked her way and spotted Miseri, eyes widening in alarm.  She was gone in a blur that was almost too fast to process.  Got her!

“Gladius One, this is Miseri.  Target spotted, in pursuit.  Cover all exits on the west side and send two men inside.”

“Confirmed, Miseri.”

She was moving as she spoke, but the hordes of kids blocked her path.  She started throwing them out of her way but finally waved Clay forward, his massive bulk clearing a path like a bulldozer.

“Do you see her?” she asked her companion, trusting his height to provide him a view.

“Already gone.  The boy cleared a path,” he rumbled.

That was the equivalent of the Gettysburg speech for Clay.  To say he didn’t speak much was a gross understatement.  He’d gone entire weekends without uttering a syllable and in those moments when he did speak, it was almost always just to her.

She had found him by accident, a chance visit to the AIR training facility where all new recruits were indoctrinated, retrained, and hooked on Juice.  The instructors were at a loss as to what to do with him, a silent giant who had decimated their combat course but wouldn’t respond to direct commands to speak.

Miseri had rarely been back to the facility since her own introduction to AIR but had been saddled on her way back from a foreign mission with delivering a set of new recruits.  After dropping off the two newbies with Administration, she had been headed back to her vehicle when she heard a hell of a commotion at the Close Quarters Combat field.  Curiosity getting the better of her, she’d strolled over to find the then-unnamed Clay standing silently amid a mess of broken and bloodied instructors and training drones.  The Head Instructor was demanding answers to questions that Miseri could see the giant didn’t know.  Finally losing his patience, the instructor drew his sidearm and pointed at the silent hulk’s head.

Something snapped inside Miseri; some unknown mental link had slipped into place, and she found herself snatching the gun out of the instructor’s hand.  Turning to the giant, she had given him one simple command.  “Follow me!”  He had, and had belonged to her ever since.  Utterly loyal, surprisingly capable, and absolutely terrifying in combat, he was her perfect assistant, one who didn’t natter on and on like almost every other human on the planet.

“She’s moving deeper into the school.  The team will block the exits, but you and I had best track her.  She’ll roll right through the others.”

“The boy?” he asked, concerned.

“What about him?  Isn’t he just a kid?” she asked, curious.

He shook his massive head.  “Not.”

Her taciturn Claymore was a veritable chatterbox today, and while his intelligence was average or slightly below, his perceptions of all things combat related were razor sharp.  Interesting.  He felt there was something different about the boy, and with Clay, different meant dangerous.

“Aren’t you just a chatty Cathy tonight.  C’mon, let’s hunt ourselves a CAECO.  And her new found boy toy.”

She pushed open the door to the girls’ locker room, the hyper-excited conversations all stopping instantly as the cheerleaders inside watched her and her giant walk through.

Chapter 27- Declan

We slipped up the side staircase to the second floor.  Castlebury had chosen to create subject-specific wings in the high school, and so Math and Science took up most of the second floor.  Mr. Porter’s Physics lab and Miss McCarthy’s Chem lab were two of the biggest rooms—and the only two that were linked by an internal door.  I knew for a fact that the connecting door was rarely locked, as Mr. Porter had a hell of a crush on his much-younger coworker.  Along with almost every boy in the school and most of their fathers.  Miss McCarthy was the subject of many a locker room conversation and way more daydreams.  A green-eyed, brown-haired young beauty, it was a wonder that any of the straight male students managed to pass her Chem classes. 

Physics had been a particularly good class for me, and Mr. Porter was one of my favorite teachers.  As a result, his classroom technology was always in tip-top shape (and I’m not ashamed at all to say, so was Miss McCarthy’s).  So I happened to know the lock combination to his lab door.  We slipped into the lab and I showed Caeco the connecting door to the Chem area, leaving her to go through on her own while I did a little scavenging in Mr. Porter’s tools.  Once I had found what I needed for my little surprise, I popped into the Chem lab to find Caeco smearing a greasy-looking mess onto a square of aluminum foil.  Behind her, I could see the open door of the Chemicals closet, its lock shattered and bent.  New college funding idea: enter Caeco in arm wrestling contests.

I poked my head into the closet and grabbed four magnesium bars.  Miss McCarthy, like every other teacher in our school and likely Vermont, was faced with teaching her classes on ever-smaller budgets.  She had resorted to bargain hunting for some of her supplies.  Rather than order expensive magnesium ribbon and powder from a chemical supply company, she’d purchased a small number of magnesium fire starters, the kind you find in the camping and survival section of most sporting goods stores.  Four dollars each, they have a ferrocerium bar for sparking glued to the side of a rectangle of magnesium.  The idea is to scrape off a small amount of magnesium and light it with the sparking rod. 

“What are you doing?” Caeco asked, eyeing the little hacksaw I’d borrowed from the physics lab.  Mr. Porter kept tools for last-minute adjustments to the pumpkin catapults that his Junior class made every year.

“Cutting these in half. Why?”

She reached over and grabbed one of the bars and snapped it almost exactly in half with her hands.  Four seconds later, she’d broken the other three, then went back to wrapping her greasy aluminum foil around a couple of small bottles.

“What did you make for show and tell?” I asked.

“Potassium chlorate mixed with a plasticizer, in this case, Vaseline I found in the teacher’s desk.  Primitive plastic explosive.  The detonator is a piece of sodium inside a glass test tube of oil inside a bigger tube of water.   When I throw it hard, the bottles will both break, the water will mix with the sodium. Boom and then double boom,” she said.

“Wow, you had a different chemistry class than I did.  Miss McCarthy just burned the potassium chlorate with sugar and it made a cool purple flame.”

“Yeah, my teacher blew up a car,” she said with a little grin.  “Ready?  Let’s get onto the roof.”

The door had an alarmed emergency bar, but I had a little mental chat with the alarm and it agreed to stay silent while we exited to the roof.  Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets, soaking us both almost instantly.  I had trouble seeing Caeco’s outline ten feet in front of me, so I stayed close as she moved unerringly to the fire escape.  She squatted down and took a quick peek over the edge before waving me closer. Lightning flashed across the sky, the almost-instant rumble of thunder telling me the storm was right on top of us.  I actually didn’t need the pause between strike and rumble to know how close it was.  My connection to the storm went much deeper. 

“There are two by the door twenty feet to our left.  I’ll occupy them while you come down the ladder.  Make sure to hustle.  The rain helps us stay hidden, but if they have thermal imaging scopes, they may still spot us,” she said, her lips almost touching my ear.  I shivered, not just from the cold rain on my neck, and nodded, slightly preoccupied with the look of her lips and the feeling of power that permeated the night.  Catching my gaze, she double-checked my readiness, then moved back to the roof edge.  After one last look my way, she simply hopped sideways and dropped fifteen feet to the ground.  I grabbed the metal ladder and slid down as fast as I could without breaking my neck.  The metal was water-slick and I was down in no time.  There were two soldiers down, lying in the water and mud, the result of the thuds and grunts I heard during my descent. 

Caeco was relieving them of their sidearms when I got there, her pupils enormously dilated in the gleam of the outside lights. I was panting, adrenaline and ozone equally to blame. We raced for the parking lot, but a shout and several high-intensity lights speared us before we’d gotten ten feet.  Heart pounding in my throat, I nonetheless raised both hands and released the will I had been gathering.  It was odd to finally be free to do what I could.  Keeping my abilities on lockdown my whole life had left me with a burden I hadn’t realized was there until I let it go.  Four of my eight magnesium chunks lit in a burst of welding torch bright and zipped in separate directions, like my own personal shooting stars.  It felt euphoric to let them fly. 

Magnesium burns at over 5000 degrees Fahrenheit and laughs at rain.  My personal comets hit the light bearers and left them preoccupied with blisters and pain.  I laughed, which earned me a concerned look from my partner, who headed for my car.

Before we could reach the Beast, two sets of headlights lit up the wet asphalt and slick metal of the cars around us.

“Freeze,” a megaphone-enhanced voice yelled, but Caeco just ducked behind a car, pulling me down beside her.  She threw one of her aluminum-foil bundles with a hard, sharp snap of her arm.  One of the sets of headlights disappeared in a blossom of light and a shockwave of sound that picked me up and slammed me to the hard pavement. Debris rained down around us. A side mirror bounced once next to me, then fell on my head. My ears were ringing, everything sounding muffled like I had earplugs in.  A snap, snap, snap sounded, the car I leaned against vibrating in time to the snaps.  They’re shooting at us!  I’m being shot at!

It was all surreal, the storm, the explosions, and now the gunfire, even as rain streamed down around us.  Caeco was watching me between studying her surroundings, and she looked concerned.  Maybe I’m in shock? I wondered.

“Goddammit, cease fire!” a female voice screamed.  The snapping stopped.

The giant from the gym stepped around the car behind us and grabbed Caeco around the neck.   Lightning flashed: three spears of separate light.  At the first flash, the monster was grabbing the tiny girl. With the next almost-instant flare of light, she was behind him, kicking out his leg, and the last strobe illuminated her compact form wrapped around his head and neck, her body spinning, hands hooked onto, or maybe into, his face.  A sodden snap hit my ears just before the thunderclap from heaven followed the lightning.  The giant timbered to the ground, his body spinning around as Caeco jumped lightly away. Blood streamed black from the clawmarks in his face.  She landed crouched, one hand touching the glistening pavement, the other drawing one of her borrowed handguns from her waistband.  She stood up and turned, pointing the gun at the giant’s body although he was still moving.

“Pugna congelo caeco!” the female yelled, closer this time.  Caeco didn’t move; in fact, she seemed to have seized up, her arms trembling. 

“Caeco, come on. Let’s get outta here!” I hissed at her, moving closer.  Her eyes moved to mine, furious, but she didn’t move, gun still pointed at the man on the ground, legs slightly bent in a shooting posture, trembling.  Her eyes widened in frustration, moved to look slightly past me.

I whirled around, coming face to face with the woman reporter, although instead of a microphone, she now held a large pistol.  My feet backed me away from her as she moved forward, smiling grimly.  When she saw the prostrate giant, rage flashed over her features.  She snagged the pistol from Caeco’s hand and struck her across the face with her own outsized gun.  Blood sprayed from the cut that appeared on my friend’s cheek, but she still remained locked in place.

More soldiers appeared in the rain, assault rifle weapon lights blinding me, surrounding me.  The woman drew back her hand to strike Caeco again, but before she could complete her motion, something snapped.  Something deep inside me.  It was over, and they would now kill us.  So let it be.  I let go, and the tension that had been building in me burst free.  A tension that had built with the storm but had been building all my life.

There is a reason I sleep in a steel box that is heavily grounded to the earth, a reason why my aunt sat up with me on nights like this one, keeping me awake during every and any thunderstorm that passed through since puberty.  Because during sleep, my unconscious mind might offer suggestions to the storm.

You see, during weather like this, when the very air is charged with electricity, my body draws it to me, absorbing and storing it.  Everything around me is ionized, heavily polarized—which, as you may know, is exactly what happens before a lightning strike.  But the lightning doesn’t strike me. No. Instead, it tends to strike where I suggest.  My container, the iron rods planted in the open lawn around our buildings or, like now, when I suggested that the three soldiers in front of me and their massive black Humvee might be fine choices.

I’ve heard it said that lightning never strikes twice.  Bullshit.  It struck three times in two seconds.  I automatically closed my eyes, which only slightly diminished the searing light as the water in the air around us exploded into superheated steam and concussive sound.  I held my breath, crouching down, knowing from past experience that the air was too hot to breathe.  Three strobes of light, so close together they were almost one.  The ground shook, tossing cars and people several inches into the air.  My own feet stayed locked to the earth, glued in place by another facet of my Craft.

It’s hard to describe the power of a single bolt of lightning, let alone three.  When I opened my eyes, the soldiers were down, unmoving, undoubtedly dead, and the Humvee sat silent, headlights out, motor silenced, tires popped.  The driver stared at me with shell-shocked eyes.  Motion from the corner of my eye caught my attention.  The reporter, who must be this Miseri, was raising her own disbelieving eyes to me and the destruction around me.  The smell of ozone was almost overpowering, but the wind and rain were quickly scrubbing the air clean.  The storm was just slightly past us, the potential for lightning greatly diminished.

I still had enough personal juice to Tase Agent Miseri, but as soon as I raised my crackling blue hands, she shot me, her outsized gun making an unimpressive pop.  A sting on my chest and a little fluffy yellow burst of color against the green of my sweatshirt.  A dart?  My body started to numb, the sensation radiating from my torso.  I took another step toward her, and the bitch shot me again.  Now it was my turn to seize up, my limbs unresponsive, my body falling to the ground. 

Miseri looked down at me from over the barrel of her gun, eyes still wide with awe but also tight with determination.  Satisfied, she turned back to Caeco and shot my friend once, the yellow dart appearing like magic on her neck.  Then she shoved her over on top of me.  Caeco’s eyes were frantic, angry and … ashamed, as her bleeding face fell toward mine.  I felt the pain of her skull bouncing off mine but couldn’t move at all, even when the blood from her cheek dripped into my open mouth.

Then Miseri leaned down, a hypodermic in each hand, lips compressed in anger.  Another sting, and then quiet and darkness.

Chapter 28 – Miseri

“Central, target acquired.  Request nearest Level 8 facility for containment of two subjects, including one energy user.”

“Acknowledged, Agent Miseri.  The nearest facility is in New Hampshire.  Be advised it is Level 10 plus and is primarily tasked to Project Brutal Asset.”

Level 10 plus?  Miseri had never heard of an AIR research facility rated higher than ten.

“Acknowledged, Central.  Does this facility have an onsite energy user familiar with containment procedures?”

“Affirmative, Miseri.  Facility Director is Hasta.”

“Acknowledged, Central.  Please advise Director Hasta that I am en route with two subjects,  one an advanced biowarfare prototype, the other an unknown, high-level energy user.”

“Confirmed, Miseri.  Central out.”

She ended the call and turned to look over her prizes, who were both drugged, restrained on gurneys, and being loaded into a nondescript delivery vehicle.  Agent Clay was also lying on a gurney, his strained and damaged neck held immobile by an oversized neck collar, face torn and shredded by Caeco’s claws.  Clay had, to her knowledge, never failed to persevere in hand-to-hand combat.  Now he was out of commission, taken down by a compact girl who couldn’t weigh over 140 even with her dense bones and muscles.  And the boy… wow! Caeco had found herself some playmate. She looked over the devastation in the parking lot.  One Humvee was fried and three operatives dead by gross electrocution.  They looked like they’d tried to steal the main copper line off an active power station—blackened corpses, almost unidentifiable as human. The second Humvee had a damaged front right wheel, the result of some kind of improvised explosive device, no doubt a product of Caeco’s training. 

AIR called his kind energy users.  Miseri privately knew them by their historical names… witches.  She didn’t know much about them except that AIR had a standing interest in them as well as a working relationship with a few.  She had no idea what the boy was capable of, other than the mayhem he had created here in a few short seconds.

“Let’s wrap this and roll.  Our time is up!” she said to the surviving members of the Gladius team, nodding in the direction of the oncoming sirens.  The storm had passed, and the air felt cool and clean.  With one last look around, she climbed into the transport vehicle and gave the order. 

Chapter 29 – Declan

Grit.  Sandpaper and glue in the eyes, maybe? Those were my first thoughts, that someone had stuck glue and sandpaper in my eyes.  I got them opened, then immediately wished I didn’t.  The light seemed excessively bright.  I could hear water lapping against a flat surface.

My mouth tasted like crap, copper, and chemicals, and it was bone dry.  After a moment, I tried movement.  It worked, but not well. My head hurt—a lot. Nonetheless, I managed to push myself upright and look around.  The floor was cool and felt like plastic.  It was colored a dark gray and polished smooth… and surrounded by water.  Fifteen feet of water between the edge of my platform and the walls, which also appeared to be plastic or synthetic, except with symbols and runes carved across every inch.  My platform was a perfect circle, and the walls curved to match.  The room was large, maybe forty or fifty feet in diameter, cylindrical and with a ceiling that was twenty feet overhead.  The lighting was… odd.  Flat translucent plastic sheets set flat into the ceiling, gleaming brightly.

“Your head likely hurts,” a voice said.  I spun about and looked up, almost falling and puking at the same time.  Fifteen feet above me, a clear window looked down into my… cell?  The blonde reporter woman was standing there, looking at me.  Next to her stood a shorter, dark-haired, dark-eyed female with heavy Goth makeup and a whole lot of tattoos. The blonde was smiling, the brunette studying me intensely.  “It’s an unfortunate side effect of the darts.  I’ve never had to put two darts into someone before, not even Caeco, but Krista here says that your kind is often resistant.”

“What, eh, kind is that?” I asked, voice raspy. 

“Dry mouth huh?” she asked, leaning forward and pushing a button.  Air whooshed behind me and when I turned, a bottle of water shot up a foot and a half from a small hole that had appeared in the platform.  The hole closed with a smaller whoosh as the bottle fell and bounced into my legs.

“It’s a variation of the air tubes that banks use for their drive-thru windows.  No power near you.  The lights above are fiber optic, bringing you light without power.  Your platform is floating on eight feet of water and as you, no doubt, can tell, made from plastic.  Recycled, no less. The rim is silver, as pure as modern technology can make it. Krista tells me that the runes carved in the walls will block you from any Earth or Fire-based energy.  If you had an affinity for Air or Water, we could change the cell to use stone and fire to isolate you, but based on your little display the other night, we feel this arrangement will keep you snug.”

The Gothy girl snorted, arms folded over her chest.  The blonde, no doubt Caeco’s nemesis Miseri, looked over at her with annoyance.  “Krista thinks this is vast overkill.  She doesn’t believe for an instant that you could have the level of power that I think you have.  Something about males never being very strong in the Art, is it?”

A long, cool pull of water from the bottle washed my throat and gave me time to think.

“Craft,” the girl corrected. 

“Right, Craft.  But I saw what you did and I don’t really care what her history tells her.  Hence your palatial surroundings.”

“I’m not sure what worries me more… the fact that you mistook my pieces of burning magnesium for witchcraft or that you actually come across witches powerful enough to warrant all this,” I said, waving my hand at the cell before taking another drink. 

The blonde agent frowned.  “Don’t dissemble, Declan.  I know full well you are a witch, and I saw what you did with the lightning.”

“The lightning?  Miss Miseri, ma’am, has Krista here explained about males and magic?”

Her frown became a thundercloud while the woman next to her was looking resigned and maybe a bit disappointed.  Perfect. 

“I’m a highly trained observer, Declan.” She raised one hand and started ticking off points. “Your peers in that charming New England town are all afraid of you, one of them going so far as to name you a freak.  You lit and projected four pieces of magnesium with nothing more than your mind.  And you very carefully directed lightning strikes against my men.”

No matter what I said, she was never going to believe me.  But that was okay because the one I had to convince was standing next to her, frowning.

I sighed and looked down at my hands, still holding the half-full bottle of water.  “Ma’am, I don’t know what she’s been telling you, but I don’t think there’s any witch that can control lightning,” I said, frowning at the witch next to her, who frowned back.  “Wind, yes.  Shake the ground, maybe.  Move water, yeah, I’ve heard of that.  Throw flame, not burning metal, but actual flame, yeah.  But a male witch who can control lightning?  Could I have a puff of whatever you’re both smoking?”

“He’s right. I told you,” Krista the witch said.

“He’s lying.  And you’re falling for it!” Miseri said, angry.  Then her tense features smoothed out and she came to some decision.  Abruptly, she turned and left the room, dragging the witch with her.

Half a minute later, a panel whooshed open in the wall, revealing the two women standing in the opening on the other side of fifteen feet of water. 

“Do it, just as I said,” Miseri directed, standing back to let Krista move forward.  The witch was younger than I had thought.  Maybe mid-twenties.

“A waste of time if you ask me, but what the hell. I never pass up a chance to play,” she smirked.  Waving one tattooed hand, she started to chant.  The surface of the water in front of her pulled up, forming a water bump, then a water mountain, before the pinnacle of water pulled away from the rest and formed a giant upside-down teardrop.  The megadrop rose up in front of the witch, who never took her eyes off me.  The water formed a ball the size of a big orange. She made a guttural sound and the ball split into two smaller, tangerine-sized, spheres.  Then she pushed both hands in my direction and air moved, my hair fluttering in the sudden breeze even as both orbs shot my way.  I tried to duck, but like little guided missiles, the water balls smashed into me from two different directions.  The water was cold, and my t-shirt was now soaked.  A shiver forced its way down my spine.  When I looked back, the girl had two more balls of frigid water circling her, and her smile was one of genuine delight at my condition.  She flicked her hands again and this time, I tried harder to dodge them, but her skill was undeniable.  One hit my head, the other my crotch, making me double over in reflex.

“Oops, someone had an accident,” witch girl said.  She definitely had a mean streak. 

Two more icy orbs shot my way, weaving and twisting around me as I stumbled back.  One hit my legs; the other, my back.  I could feel the earth telling me we were underground. Even Krista’s runes couldn’t stop that basic knowledge from seeping in.  The water was probably ambient ground temperature, say fifty-eight degrees or so, and now my t-shirt and jeans were soaking wet.  My pants had been damp when I awoke, no doubt from the storm.  But now, I was shivering.

I understood Miseri’s simple plan.  A Fire witch in control of her (or potentially his) faculties would never freeze to death. Aunt Ash had helped out with people lost in the woods, and I knew from hanging around the search and rescue people that hypothermia could kill people at forty degrees.  Water could do it faster.  So she was trying to force me to heat myself.  It would accomplish two things: prove I was a more powerful witch than Krista currently believed, and drain my magical reservoir of power, leaving me less of a threat.  Not gonna happen.  I’ve been hiding who I am since I could walk.

Straightening up, I was just in time to catch a soccer-ball-sized water orb that knocked me right off my feet.  Because I had backed up as far as I could, it also knocked me off the platform and  into the water.  Water balls are one thing, immersion in fifty-odd-degree water is another.  My body seized up for a moment at the shock of it, then I flailed my way to the surface and grabbed onto the platform.  Muscles protesting, I pulled myself up onto the plastic circle and started to shiver like I meant it, my body attempting to heat itself back up.  When that failed, it would begin to shut down the bloodflow to my extremities, hoarding its energy to protect my vital organs.  Now would be the time when a fire witch would use their ability to generate heat, and so I did.  Just a little, enough to almost dry my clothes.  Instantly, I felt better, the warmth flowing from inside to out.  My shivering stopped and my clothes began to steam slightly.  Then I did the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  I stopped the flow of magic and sealed my reservoir shut.  It left me still damp, but at least it was a warm wet instead of a cold one. 

Miseri stood in the open door, lips compressed in a flat line, decidedly unhappy.  Krista looked shocked.  As well she should be.  Fire witches are rare. Males able to claim affinity for that skill are one in several million.  A male who could generate heat at a junior witch level was almost unheard of, although Aunt Ash had told me of a male witch (she won’t call us warlocks) who had strong affinity for fire and headed a well-known circle in the Carolinas.

“Come on, kid.  Don’t you want to dry off?  You can do better than that,” Miseri said.  Krista looked at her like she was insane.  The blonde agent caught her glance.  “He’s faking.  He can do a lot more than that!  I saw him channel multiple bolts of lightning into four targets at once!”

My initial burst of warmth was fading, the moisture in my clothes cooling back to air temperature and taking my body’s warmth with it.  I dropped back to the cold plastic surface, my face splashing a little in the puddle of water that spread out around me.  This part was easy.  In my current state, I could project exhaustion like an Academy Award winner.

“Fan him!  If he wants to be dry, then dry him!”

“You realize that you found a fire-based warlock, right? One who can dry his own clothes while exhausted and cut off from Power? Do you really want to kill him with exposure?”

“Listen to me: he is faking!  And you’re falling for it.”

I closed my eyes, so I missed the gestures that the Goth girl undoubtedly made… the ones that caused the air around me to swirl.  Any remaining warmth in my clothes was gone in an instant, then I started to get cold again.  The shivering came back, twice as hard, but only lasted half as long.  My hands and feet were numb and I was tired, so tired.  Inside me, the pool of power that promised warmth begged to be let out, but I crushed it down, cemented it shut, used every trick I had learned from playground bullies and every condescending adult I had ever wanted to punish but didn’t. 

My shivers ceased, hypothermia having gained a solid foothold.  Focused on locking down my power and instincts, I ignored the suddenly loud discussion, although I did note the sudden drop in wind and the addition of a male voice to the mix.  But by then I was too sleepy to care, too tired to do more than wonder what had become of Caeco, and I drifted into a confused, slumber-like state.

Chapter 30- Miseri

When the little bastard stopped moving, Miseri realized her tactic had failed.  His determination was admirable and effective.  Now he had convinced both Krista and Director Hasta that he was a valuable and rare specimen, but much less dangerous than she knew him to be.  Points to the boy. 

So rather than look like an obsessed maniac, she acceded when Krista refused to use her own considerable powers to cool him further, especially when Hasta arrived and heard her report of his rare and valuable skill with fire.

“If you are right and he is only a fire user who is less powerful than, say, Krista’s equivalent, then why do you suddenly care?” she questioned the witch and the facility director, neither of whom she had ever worked with before.

“Agent Miseri, your reputation in the organization is well known, and the fact that you captured both the bioweapon and this young energy user is a fantastic accomplishment.  But you really need to further your knowledge of Krista’s kind.  The boy is hugely valuable, but not for his own power.  Rather, he is a rare piece that the truly high-ranking of his kind will trade enormous resources for.  Explain it to her, would you, Krista?” the dapper-looking man had said.

“It’s like this.  The gene for witchcraft is carried on the X chromosome.  Males that carry it can ensure that any girl born of them will have a strong chance of being talented in the Craft.  Combined with a known female witch, and you are guaranteed strong young witches.  But males are generally weaker in the Craft themselves.  This one is strong.  His children will be stronger still if he is matched to the right witch.”

“You’re saying he’s valuable as breeding stock?  Like a champion racehorse?” Miseri asked.

“Exactly,” Krista agreed. “Witches would line up for a shot at this one.  I wonder what his pedigree is?”

“Does it matter?” Miseri asked.

“Of course it matters!  Knowing who his parents are could increase his value immensely,” Director Hasta said.  “Krista, see if you can find out, will you?”

“Yes sir.  But I think I’ll get him a blanket first.  Wouldn’t want our prize stud there to die of exposure,” she said, glancing aside at Miseri.

They were both fools.  The boy was playing them like a fiddle, but so be it.  As long as she had Caeco back, she couldn’t be bothered. She still wanted to know what her wayward test tube warrior was doing with a young warlock.  She left them, heading for Caeco, thinking hard.

Chapter 31- Declan

I heard some of the discussion, fading in and out of consciousness.  Somewhere along the way, I ended up with a pillow and blanket, along with a couple of disposable chemical hand warmer packets.  When I finally dragged myself back to the world of the living I found a tray of food—oatmeal and chocolate milk.  I dug in, knowing I’d need every ounce of energy I could muster if we were going to escape. 

An hour after I had finished eating, Krista appeared with a beefy guard to retrieve my tray.  The guard reached out to the platform with a long pole, snagging my plastic island with a metal hook in an indentation on the bottom of my platform.  He pulled the whole disc over to the doorway, allowing Krista to barely step onto it.  I felt a subtle change in the power around me, telling me that the circle of silver had been closed and charged till she broke it.  The whole thing was a clever set-up, designed to isolate me from both the earth and any source of energy I could use for fire.  Even the air was cool, reducing the amount of heat in the atmosphere around me, leaving me nothing to work with.  Or almost nothing.  I didn’t have much knowledge of how witches could be kept captive, but it made huge sense to me.  If it was Krista being kept captive, than I would enclose her in earth, surrounded by high heat to bake away any moisture.  Earth against air, fire against water. 

But as chill as the air was, it still had some measure of heat to it.  Not a lot, and spread out over the whole volume of the cell, not really accessible.  Unless the witch trying to tap it also had some small skill with Air. 

So my stomach was reasonably full, and my reserve of power had been trickle charging over the last hour as I extracted what little heat I could, sitting cross legged on my island.

“Wow, it’s cold in here,” the dark witch noted.  “Tell those idiots in the control room to turn it up a small amount.  We wouldn’t want our young friend here to catch a cold, now would we?”

“Speaking of friends, where is mine?  Where is Caeco?”

She frowned at me, then squatted down to bring her eyes level with mine.  She was wearing a long-sleeved black dress over black knitted tights, chunky high heels, and long, hanging earrings that depicted some kind of geometric pattern. Her sleeves were pushed up her forearms, exposing tattoos. The earrings looked witchy, but they weren’t.  Three of the rings on her hands were, though.  Magical artifacts, little fields of power that made each of them look extra sharp to my vision, like the difference between high-definition TV and a standard picture.  Two on her left hand, one on her right.

Every witch and warlock is born with a certain level of power which, with training and experience, they can maximize.  But to exceed that level of power is not possible unless you have boosters, enhancers—artifacts. Any witch could use an artifact and depending on the power of the item, it could move that witch up one or more levels of power.

“Your friend is fine, well not fine, but healthy at least.  I wouldn’t worry about her too much; she probably wouldn’t want to see you right now anyway.  She’s in kind of a funk… dealing with some personal issues, you might say.  But let’s talk about you, Declan.  Now your driver’s license says O’Carroll for a surname, but my own sources on the Emerald Isle have never heard of any witches named O’Carroll.  I guess that makes sense. I mean, if I were going into hiding in a new country, I wouldn’t use my real name, now would I?” she asked, tilting her head to study my reaction.  Reactions.

Her words had triggered a whole lot of thoughts.  Caeco was alive, but angry and dealing with… issues?  That didn’t make any sense until the thought of her frozen in place at the strange words that Miseri had uttered.  Her limbs had been shaking with the effort of trying to move, but she’d locked up tight.  I had a flash of insight—a eureka moment.  It came at the same moment as a memory of the metallic taste in my mouth when I had first woken up.  Along with a memory of Caeco falling on me and her blood dripping into my mouth. 

If I were a mad scientist and I was going to build a super warrior, I think I would want a fail-safe of sorts.  Something to protect myself from said warrior.  And if my super weapon was loaded with programmable nannites, maybe I would program those little micro mini-machines with a command, an executable file, triggered by words only I knew.

All of this flashed through my head at a most unusual speed.  Literally a stream of consciousness that bordered on bizarre.  Then I focused on her words about my name.

“O’Carroll is the only name I’ve ever known.  If they changed it, I wouldn’t know,” I answered truthfully.  I had actually never considered that my aunt and mother might have taken a different last name.  I found myself a bit bothered by the fact that I might not be who I thought I was.

Krista was nodding, her dark eyes studying me carefully.  She wasn’t a whole lot older than I was.  Maybe twenty-three or twenty-four, I decided.

“There is a story about two witch sisters that disappeared something like eighteen years ago.  Quite high level too.  Ashling and Maeve Irwin.  Ever heard of them?”

I shook my head, slightly stunned.  The chances that two witches with the same first names as my mom and aunt leaving Ireland at the same time were pretty nil.  And then there was the fact that my middle name—the one I wasn’t allowed to put down on any forms—was Irwin.  Aunt Ashling had never told me that my true last name was Irwin.

She smiled, but it was a victory smile, not a friendly smile.  “Yeah and the one witch, Maeve, tested off the charts.  Your mom’s name wouldn’t be Maeve, now would it?”

I didn’t answer her, at least verbally.  But any chance of hiding my reaction had been blown by the revelation that I wasn’t who I thought I was.  That probably shouldn’t have come as a huge surprise.  I mean, it would have been idiotic to run to America and then continue to use your last name.  But I had never thought about it, had just assumed I was an O’Carroll from Ireland.  But I wasn’t.

“Well, good chat, stud.  We’ll talk some more,” she said, standing up to leave.  I grabbed at her hand, her right hand with my left.  “Wait, can I see Caeco?”

She shook me off, looking annoyed.  “You need to forget her.  She’s not your kind, Declan,” she said, stepping back and leaving my island.  I felt the circle power up as she nodded to the guard, who shoved my platform back to the center of the water.

Standing behind the squatting guard as he positioned me back out in the middle of the pool, she locked eyes with me, hers having a greedy gleam to them.  Then the door slid shut, leaving me alone.  Just myself and the dose of power I had just leached off her ring.  I tucked it away inside me, a pulse of magical power that brought my levels up to almost full.  With little else to do, I sat back and contemplated the air itself.  The molecules of gases that swirled around me, sustained my lungs, and moved about the cell.  And out of the cell, through the fine mesh grating near the ceiling and into the rest of the building.  My tongue was feeling my teeth, kinda like when I’ve just had them cleaned at the dentist, but now they were cruddy—unbrushed for too long.  Some of the bad taste in my mouth was normal, but a small part was metallic and sharp, gritty and biting almost.  And oddly, as I tasted it, I had a mental image of Caeco, sitting in a cell, angry and ashamed, filled with self-loathing.

Chapter 32-Miseri

The girl crouched in the corner of her cell, arms wrapped about her legs, forehead on her knees.  She positively radiated anger.  And hatred.  As she raised her head and met Miseri’s gaze, much of that hatred focused on the blonde agent.  But Miseri thought some measure was being directed inward, as well.

“Come on, Caeco. You didn’t think we would leave you without a safety, did you?  What kind of weapon has no safety?  I imagine it was hard… being frozen in place, unable to help your young warlock friend, all because of a tiny command file embedded in your nanotechnology.”

The girl just glared at her, which was a teeny bit disconcerting.  Miseri had more than a healthy respect for Caeco’s abilities.  She had been assigned almost from the moment Caeco was decanted from her growth tank, had watched her grow.  She’d even suggested many of the tests and challenges that the research team had put the girl through.  Their relationship had always been cordial.  Now, Miseri was glad the cell was constructed of zoo-quality steel.  Even the executable file wouldn’t help her if Caeco got free.  In the time it took to say the words, the girl could kill three people.  She’d almost killed Clay in less time than that.  Privately, Miseri thought that AIR was wrong to terminate the project.  The seventeen-year-old girl was more than a match for any of the Juiced soldiers that AIR had decided were the more cost-effective replacement.  Even with her own Juiced abilities, Miseri held no delusions about the outcome of a close quarters encounter with the genetically enhanced girl who now actively hated her.  She should be studied, replicated with new technology.  Her raw potential was too valuable.  But ultimately, it wasn’t Miseri’s call.

“If it’s any consolation, your mother is still free.  Oracle whisked her away before another team could get there.  You and your little buddy had already left me undermanned—kind of decimated my team.  You did pretty well together, you and your witch boy.  How did you find him?  He’s kinda cute, don’t you think?  The witch girls are gonna go batty over him,” Miseri said, watching for reactions.

And she got plenty.  Not that a casual observer would see much, but Miseri was long practiced in reading Caeco’s reactions, as few and tightly controlled as they were.  A few twitches and eyeblinks, but it was something.  Quite a lot, actually.  She had obviously formed loyalties and strong attachments.  It confirmed one of Miseri’s long-held beliefs.  You couldn’t grow a robot from a human base and expect it to not have emotions.  She wasn’t even sure why the AIR Council would want to.  The best fighters she knew all had passion for something, herself and Clay included.  People mistook her giant partner as a dangerous simpleton who went where he was pointed.  They were wrong.  Clay was well-suited to his work and had a certain cunning for combat.  More importantly, he was completely loyal—to her, which worked as she was loyal to AIR. Together, they were one of the top teams that AIR fielded. 

“Why are you waiting?” Caeco asked, voice surprisingly soft.

“I’m waiting because I have never agreed with the Central Council’s view of you.  My report will reflect that.  You and your mother escaped Facility 21, which has never been done, created new identities, and set up functioning lives.  You managed to completely integrate yourself in a modern high school within days and form alliances that provided you with significant resources.  Then, when your cover was blown, you managed to take down more than half of a Gladius team as well as poor Clay.  Oh, and you found yourself a supernatural partner in the process.  The only reason that you were captured at all was because of the executable protocol that I insisted be added when you were enhanced with nano.  Outstanding performance, Caeco.”

“How did you find us so fast?”

“Your mother is a brilliant woman, top of her field, and didn’t do too badly dabbling in espionage.  But we know all the players in the false identity line in New Mexico, Nevada, Texas, and Arizona.  Your mom left a few small clues that pointed toward Phoenix, and then it was just good, old-fashioned human spycraft.  If you had run again after disposing of Machete, you might have been better off.  Oracle has been a thorn in our side but ultimately, we prevail.  Trusting them was a mistake.  They are inherently weak, which is not so much because of their abilities but the lack of will to use them as they should.”

“Where is Declan?”

“Oh, he’s tucked away, safe and sound.  No worries there.  Apparently, he has a lot of value, you know, for his abilities,” Miseri replied.

“He’s just a male.  They don’t have that much power,” Caeco said. 

Interesting.  Not trying to sandbag me, are you little girl?  Miseri thought.  “Really?  I thought he did pretty well with the lightning and all.  Taking out three combatants and a vehicle in one strike is rather impressive.  He’ll fetch a nice price.  I suspect he’ll live out his days in a drugged stupor, you know, when he isn’t being used for his… ah… services.”

Caeco was on her feet, the movement from sitting to standing a smooth blur.  Fists clenched, body taut with anger, still she held herself in check.   Hmm, there’s a reaction. But the girl is learning to control that temper.

The door to the cell block opened behind them both, and Miseri turned to see Krista come through, a canvas messenger bag over one shoulder.  The young witch nodded at Miseri, studied Caeco with obvious curiosity, and then proceeded to the empty cell two over from Caeco’s.  Once inside, she opened her bag and pulled out what looked like a metal ball with a screw on top and a bundle of string.   She set the ball, which appeared to be lead, in the middle of the cell floor, unwound the attached string, and started to compass draw a circle with chalk that she tied to the string.

“What are you doing?” Miseri asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?  I’m setting up the cell to hold her—” she pointed at Caeco, “—little friend.  He’s gotta be moved from the containment cell.”

“Are you crazy?  That crap isn’t going to hold him!  Who gave that order?”

“Director Hasta.  They need to empty that cell and reconfigure the whole floor above us.  Some big deal is about to go down, and the Council is getting a trap ready.  Something called Brutal Asset?”

“What?  Now?  They can’t do that! The boy will blow right through your Mickey Moused setup!”

“Look, Agent Miseri, you might be a hot shot with science projects like her, but witchcraft is my profession, and my circles hold!  What the fuck do you know about the Craft?  And if you don’t like it, take it up with Hasta!” the Goth witch said.

“I know you’re being played for a sucker by that kid.  As for Hasta, where is he?”

“Yeah, good luck with that.  He’s upstairs, same level as the kid,” the witch said before turning her back and pulling a can of spray paint from the bag.  Shaking the can until it produced clunking sounds; she proceeded to reinforce the chalk circle with a painted one.

Miseri left, heading for the upper level. As she turned to go, she caught the slightest gleam in Caeco’s eye.  Just a hint of interest… or maybe a hint of hope.

Chapter 33 – Declan

They came for me later.  I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it felt like only a few hours.  The door slid open suddenly, interrupting my introspection.  I was lying flat on my back, hands behind my head, ankles crossed, deep in thought.  Almost a meditation, as it were, my tongue still tasting the metal flavor, my thoughts on computer programs.

Krista stood in the doorway, looking a little weary.  Behind her, three big guards stood in military black, wearing armor and faceguards.  The girl threw a pair of handcuffs onto my platform.

“Put those on,” she said.

Surprised, I studied the cuffs.  Smith & Wesson brand, but I didn’t think they had come from the factory with runes and glyphs carved into them.  A few of the runes were recognizable, but many were in alphabets and patterns that I knew of but didn’t really know.

The metal was cold when I ratcheted them shut over my own wrists.  Immediately, I felt a kind of numbness.  A puffy feeling in my arms, chest, and back, a little like the dribble-mouthed thing that happens when the dentist gives me novocaine.

Nodding to herself in satisfaction, she motioned to one of the guards, who dragged my platform over to the doorway   She stepped onto the plastic and placed three necklaces over my head.  A muffled feeling, like blankets covering my head, came with each necklace, the effect building in weight.

“Okay, he’s ready,” she said to the guards.  Two of them grabbed my arms, and my feet left the ground.   Bigger, stronger, faster—boy and how! These guys each made two of me, and they didn’t appear to be laboring very hard to whisk me into the hallway outside my cell and into a bee’s nest of activity.  Workers were installing sheets of some grayish metal on the walls and ceiling.  The fact that they were wearing what looked like radiation suits and air filters made me wonder just what kind of metal it was.  Whatever it was, it seemed to be very heavy, based on the massive noise one sheet made when a worker dropped it.  All of this took place in a few seconds as I was hauled down the hall and through a massive metal door that was also receiving a gray metal makeover.  Down industrial stairs, into a massive underground room whose corners had the biggest shock absorbers I’d ever seen.  The ceiling was two stories overhead and the passageway we entered was made of cinderblocks walls only one story tall, leaving me in mind of a rat’s maze. 

“It’s a defunct missile silo.  The big springs were to help absorb an attack, supposedly even a nuclear one,” Krista said, smirking at my shocked expression. “Welcome to ground floor and your new abode.”

A thick steel door led into a set of cells with heavy metal bars and a ceiling that looked like it was made from the same slabs of concrete that parking garages are built with. A camera hung from the ceiling, a built-in microphone next to the gleaming red light.  The handcuffs and necklaces held me to almost nothing, but a mental burst of almost nothing was enough to cause the microphone to smoke a bit.  The red camera light stayed on, though.

There was a long row of cells, the visible ones all empty except one, the third from the right.  My cell was furthest on the right, at least I assumed it was my cell by the florescent orange circle spray-painted onto the floor and the copious amount of sigils and runes drawn around it and even on the ceiling above it.  The two thugs holding my arms launched me through the open cell door and into the circle, leaving me in a painful heap.  Yup, my cell all right.

“Easy there. Don’t hurt the merchandise!” Krista admonished the two.  They appeared unfazed by her comment, looming in the corners of the cell while she knelt down and touched one black polished nail to the edge of the circle.  A silent thrum of power arced around me as the barrier was closed.

“Okay, well, that should do it.  Not as fancy as your other digs, but they needed the space and these accommodations come with a friendly face… ere… a face, anyway,” Krista said, waving one hand at the other cell, where Caeco watched us with a flinty expression.

One by one, the guards left the cell as Krista checked over the wards one last time.  Then she left, too, and the guard by the door slammed it shut, the lock clicking into place.

“Miss me while I’m gone?” the Goth witch asked sweetly as I rolled upright and dusted off my face.  “You know you will,” she added as she exited the cell block through the main door.  It, too, clanged shut with an ominous bong.

“Hey, you all right?” I asked Caeco in a whisper.  She ignored me.  “I said… are you all right?”

Her head swiveled to look at me.  “Why are you whispering?” she asked in a normal voice.

“Ah, it just seemed to fit the mood.  So, are you going to answer or are you not speaking to me for some reason?”

“I am almost without injury.  Nothing but a scratch,” she said, sounding a touch regretful.  The mental image I had seen her in back in my old cell exactly matched her real cell, which gave me some food for thought.

“Listen, they obviously implanted your nannites with some kind of command,” I started.

The look she gave me was cold as ice.  “You think?”  Her tone was just as frosty.

“Oh!  So that’s how it is?  Gonna be that girl, are you?” I said as I surveyed my own customized dwelling space.  Closing my eyes, I used other senses to feel out the containment spells as I turned in place.

Behind me, I could almost feel the glare of Caeco’s eyes.  Reminded me of when I first met her.  Good times.

The spellcraft was pretty solid; really solid, actually.  A strong barrier for a fire witch or warlock.  It was tightly woven, which spoke highly of Krista’s abilities, as it was obviously done at the last minute.  I found some gaps, tiny really, but gaps nonetheless.  Little weaknesses that I could, given time, wear away.

“What girl?” came the voice behind me.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“You said I was being that girl.  I want to know what girl that is?” she asked, exasperated that I didn’t understand.  I did actually, but it was all part of my master plan at drawing her out of her self-inflicted mental beatdown.

“Oh.  The girl who blames herself for things she can’t control.”

“What the fuck would you know about that, Mr. Oh-so-Perfect warlock?”

“Easy.  I spent a good three or four years blaming myself for my mom’s death.  All my fault, you know.”

“Give me a break, you were what?  Eight?”

“Six.  It didn’t have to make sense, just as it makes no sense for you to beat yourself up along with anyone who tries to make you see reason.  Kids are self-centered.  I assumed it had to be my fault.”

“Oh, so now I’m self-centered, too?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

Okay, so my master plan sucked.  “Go ahead.  Lash out.  Maybe it’ll make you feel better.  Then, when you get past it, you’ll maybe realize that maybe it’s not your fault that they put a shock collar in your little electronic hitchhikers.  Then maybe we can do something about it.”

“As fascinating as this discussion is, could you kids keep your lover’s quarrel to a dull roar?” a male voice suddenly requested from much further down the row of cells.

I raised my eyebrows silently at Caeco.

“Some more cells. A couple of prisoners,” she said, something in her tone of voice making my ears perk up. 

“Yeah?  Like us kind of prisoners?”

She considered for a moment, then shook her head.  “No, a hemivore and a lycanthrope.”

I looked at her blankly.

“A vampire and a werewolf.”

“You’re shitting me?” I asked.  Her eyes narrowed.  “You’re not shitting me?  Really?”

“You are a warlock and you’re shocked at the presence of a vampire and a werewolf?”

“I’m aware they exist, but I’ve never met any.  Led sort of a sheltered life, ya know.”

“You know we can hear every word you say, right?” the male voice asked.

“That’s Frank; he’s the furry one.  The other is Charles,” Caeco said.

“I’ll show you furry, little girl!” he muttered.  The other one never said a word.

Caeco was still staring at me, making me a little glad the bars were solid steel.  I probed the unseen etheric walls around me with my Crafting senses, looking for more little cracks and chinks.  Not many, but a few.

“What could we possibly do about command files in technology as advanced as this?” she asked, interested despite her self-loathing.

“Well, seeing as you bled into my mouth and gave me a complete and really gross sample of your little micro buddies, and seeing as I’m a genius with all things tech and code, then the possibility of me rewriting the executable file jumps to a really high probability.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”  she asked although her tone had changed. Something new had popped in between the sarcasm and the self-doubt… hope.

“See, my mouth tastes like ass.  Part of that is a serious lack of hygiene due to the circumstances, but a bit of my dragon breath is blood—your blood.  And so some of the nannites that were in you are now in me… and we’ve been chatting.  Getting to know each other.  I’ve worked out a bunch of stuff and I think I almost have the executable file rewritten.  Did you know there is one that stops your heart as well?  Took care of that one first.”

“You re-wrote them?  How?  To do what?”

“You really got to ask how?  What do you think I do when I commune with the machines?  I’ve been speaking to machines since I could touch them.”

“What did you rewrite them to do?” she asked a second time.

“Well, the one that stops your heart will now give you a jolt of adrenaline and the one that freezes you up… well, from now on, you take your clothes off instead.”

She stared at me for a second, conflicting emotions making her face twitch.  I’m not sure, but I think I saw some more hope mixed with exasperation with a dash of embarrassment thrown in.

“You ass,” she said finally.  I laughed, which made her smile, just a little.

“How are you supposed to change the rest of my nannites?” she asked.

“That’s easy.  We just have to kiss.  Just a short makeout session should do it.  Five minutes, tops,” I said, hands on hips and resurveying Krista’s spell work.  I looked back at Caeco after a moment to see something I’d never expected… panic.

“I’m joking.  I just have to touch you and I can change the rest.  Or rub some of my saliva on your skin and the ones you left with me will rewrite the others,” I said, letting her off the hook.  Jeeze, it was just a joke.  She looked like kissing me would end the world.  Fantastic.

Brushing aside the sudden hurt I felt, I reached out to the invisible circle in front of me.  A field of blue began to form, an arc that was just the idea of color that darkened to become almost solid blue as my fingers got closer.  When I touched it, it was like fire and ice, electric shock and raw pain.  I snapped my hand away, the instant reflex of touching a hot stove.  Then I touched it again.  I lasted longer the second time but ultimately pulled away.  Third time’s the charm. And it was, as by now I had grown, not accustomed exactly, but at least prepared for the sensation.  My palm flat on the circle’s surface, I pressed.  It pressed back.  I pressed again and held it for a few heartbeats.  Then I pulled away.

“Didn’t work?” she asked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that exactly,” I replied.  What she hadn’t seen, what I had even hidden from the ceiling-mounted camera at the doorway was that my index finger had made it through.  Just the tip, maybe a few millimeters of skin.  But that was enough—or at least, it would be.

Satisfied for the moment, I pulled back and went back to looking at our cells.

She snorted and sat down, looking at the ground in front of her.

Sitting seemed like a good idea, like a good place to study my new surroundings from.  The bars were all solid steel, the locks very high quality, all mechanical, not electric.  The floor was concrete, meters thick, if my Earth senses were accurate.  Krista’s Fire wards were solid work for the most part, but her Earth wards were minimal, almost an afterthought. I hadn’t displayed any Earth abilities during my fight with Miseri’s team or during the hours of confinement in the other cell.  So the Earth wards really were a bit of extra insurance.  There was weakness there, weakness I intended to explore.  Sitting cross-legged, arms loosely draped over my knees, I let my senses expand outward and downward, sifting around and slipping through the guardian wards.

Chapter 34- Krista

Struggling to keep her cool, Krista slid out of the guard room and headed for the stairs.  Still shocked at what she’d just witnessed on camera, her only thought was to get outside—to leave this forsaken hole in the earth.

The boy had placed his hand against her circle and leaned on it like it was a wall. A motherfucking wall!  Circles hurt—they hurt like hell.  And a circle made to oppose your element hurt even more.  The pressure he had put on his prison with that simple gesture blew Krista’s mind.  The blonde bitch Miseri was right!  He was more, a lot more than they had thought. 

Impossible.  She knew there were plenty of witches more powerful than herself, of that she held no illusions.  But to stand there and press your motherfucking hand on someone else’s circle like it was nothing?  Unfucking heard of!  And he was a he!  Im-fucking-possible!

She threaded her way through soldiers and technicians, struggling with her thoughts but still aware of the vast activity around her.  Whatever this Brutal Asset was, it was big.  But in her world, the biggest thing was the lanky, blue-eyed boy in the cell below.  A cell she was suddenly much less sure about.

Reaching the top of the silo, she entered the command center that led to the exit.  A guard turned to her with a combination smile and frown. 

“Hey, Krista girl.  Ah, where are you headed?  The base is close to lockdown,” he said.

“Hi, Kurt.  I gotta get out for a bit.  You know, commune with nature and all that stuff.  This concrete pit wears me down,” she said, smiling back at the flirty guard.  She was well aware that Kurt wanted to get into her pants, not at all put off by her witchy nature.  Some of the guards were intimidated by her power, but most were blinded by their own male nature.  She used that ruthlessly.

“Witch stuff?” he asked, eyebrows raised.  Krista’s habit of leaving the facility for the topside forest was well known and well documented in the security logbooks.

“Exactly,” she agreed.  Actually, she needed to make a call.

“There are double patrols in the woods, with Hounds.  You might want to stay on the airstrip,” he suggested.

“Okay, thanks Kurt.  Appreciate the heads up.  I hate those Hounds.”

She wasn’t lying.  The mutated, freaky cyborg dogs that AIR had developed spooked her.  Abominations against Nature.  At least two of the video feeds on the security panel in front of Kurt came from the eyes of the Hounds on patrol. 

Shuddering at the thought, Krista proceeded up the spiral staircase of the command center and through the access tunnel.   The decommissioned Atlas F missile silo with a single missile magazine had been purchased by AIR in some sort of private transaction.  Buried deep in the New Hampshire White Mountains, it had been shut down and then sold to a survivalist type.  The buyer had attempted to turn it into a survivalist’s wet dream, an end-of-the-world redoubt that could house a large group of like-minded preppers in comfort and even luxury. After adding a private airstrip, hangar, and an attractive vacation lodge over the complex entrance, he had run out of money.  AIR had plenty of funds to convert the two-story launch complex into a command and security center, as well as add seven floors to the one-hundred-eighty-foot-deep silo.  It made a perfect research facility, easy to secure, hidden, and protected from prying eyes.  And they got it dirt cheap.

She climbed the stairway that brought her to ground level, the door opening into a pleasantly appointed vacation cabin designed and built like a ski chalet.  More guards were present up top, the cabin acting as their barracks of sorts.  Some nodded at the pretty Goth girl, some moved away, but all of them watched her. 

Ignoring the attention, she stepped out into the bright September afternoon, taking a moment to let the warm sunlight fall on her face.  The Goth thing was her current fad and it worked well with her naturally pale skin, but she wasn’t married to it.  She was, however, deeply connected to the natural world, and getting outside was vital to her health.  AIR paid her as a consultant, on loan from her Circle in Concord, and she was hoping the job would end soon.  This base, the scientists and freaky experiments, were all wrong.  Not to mention the Portal at the bottom of the silo, the one that had almost formed itself when she had painted a pentagram and circle inside the giant Lexan cube.  That had been her primary job, but she had been on hand when Agent Miseri’s request for containment quarters had come in.

Strolling down the airstrip, she followed Kurt’s advice and stayed out of the woods, avoiding the patrols.  The runway ran east-west and the western end turned into brushy fields, which, when she reached them, gave her a healthy micro-environment to enjoy and recharge in.  When she sat cross-legged on the warm earth, it also allowed the grass and brush to block her from the view of the two snipers stationed on the roof of the hangar.  The observation post there was usually manned by just one person, and they weren’t normally a sniper.  Today, Krista had seen two men with massive rifles watching through powerful scopes.  Security was definitely ramped up.

Pulling out her phone, she powered it up.  Inside the base, all electronic emissions were monitored and blocked.  Cell phones didn’t work there, but here at the far end of the runway, she could check in with her Circle.  In fact, Director Hasta had ordered her to do just that in seeking information on the young warlock.  But she felt an almost panicky need to talk to her Circle leader, Gillian.

“Hello, Krista.  Something new?  We just spoke,” Gillian answered.

“Gillian, it’s about the boy.  I think I was wrong… I think he’s more than we thought.”

“What do you mean more?  You said he was extremely powerful for a male?”

“Gillian, I had to move him, per the Director’s orders.  I happened to check in with the guards for the prisoner area and I glanced at the camera for his cell.  Gillian, he put his hand on the circle that I enclosed him in and leaned on it!”

“Leaned on it?  Nobody leans on a circle, Krista. You must have been mistaken.”

“The circle turned a solid blue where his hand was.  I’m telling you he touched it a couple times, then just motherfucking held it there.  Then he pushed!  He barely even twitched.  Oh, and I’m certain he’s the son of that witch from Ireland you mentioned.  Maeve Irwin.  Twitched like hell when I mentioned her name.  I don’t think he knew about the Irwin part, though.”

“Is he contained, Krista?”

“Yeah.  I circled him and laid down wards all through the cell.  I mean, it’s not as dope a cell as the custom one, but it’s tight!” she said, her voice extra forceful, trying to reassure her boss even as she reflected on what she’d seen.

“I will go back to my Irish friends and let them know.  No one knows where you are, so keep it that way. Got it?”

A thumping sound caught her attention, soft at first but building quickly.  It took just a second for her to identify it.

“Got it.  Listen, Gillian.  Something’s happening here… at the base.  Some big deal or another.  I gotta go, and I’ll likely be on lockdown for a while.”

“Just as well.  Contact me when you can,” her leader said.

“’Kay.  Bye,” she said, ending the call while watching the helicopter approach.  It was going balls out, much faster than its usual speed, and the pilot suddenly braked and landed without even his normal one-time-around-the-field orbit. 

Before the door even opened, a ground team led by the head guard rushed up to the aircraft, all five figures bent low under the still-spinning rotors.

A blonde woman stepped out of the chopper, crouching low.  She turned back to collect a small figure who was handed out the door to her. The figure appeared to be a small girl, at least based on the long brown hair fluttering in the rotor wash.  The engine wound down, but the team was already halfway back to the cabin, the new woman still holding the girl in her arms.  She looked really young, maybe seven or eight, and utterly terrified, and when her dark eyes turned Krista’s way, a cold chill ran down the witch’s spine.  Like a black cloud of doom had just crossed her vision.  It was part of her Craft, the part tied closest to Air, and the strength of the premonition made Krista’s knees weak. 

A figure appeared in the door of the cabin: Director Hasta.  He smiled at the little figure in the woman’s arms, one hand stroking his pointed goatee.  The image of a skull imposed itself over his head and the guards all became skeletons for a split second.

They were all dead, they just didn’t know it.  The girl shone brightly in Krista’s wavering vision, surrounded by figures of death.

It was the single most powerful vision of the young witch’s life, and it sent her to her knees.  For a moment, she was frozen, shocked still.  Then she started moving, turning from the cabin and moving west, rushing at first, on autopilot, in almost a blind panic to get away.  The scrubby field gave way to pine forest and she automatically slowed, her panic lessened by her increasing distance from the base.  As she entered the dark woods, the sudden quiet overrode her panic, and she stopped still.  Using all her senses, mundane and arcane, she found the nearest roving patrol as it neared her position.  Casting quickly, she wrapped herself in layer on layer of See Me Nots and Go Your Way spells.  The team moved past and she slipped by them, careful to crush a handful of ferns in her hand, sprinkling the torn, juicy fronds on her back trail as she whispered a spell to block her scent.

Twenty-three minutes later, she found the main road, pausing to pluck leaves and debris from her hair before stepping out onto the pavement.  She had her phone, her messenger bag which doubled as her purse, and the clothes on her back.  She was luckier than all the rest.

Chapter 35- Declan

The clang of doors broke my concentration, voices and footsteps drawing closer.  The main entry door opened and Director Hasta strode through, followed by a blonde woman I hadn’t seen before.  She was carrying a bundle in her arms, but then the bundle moved and I realized it was a little girl.    Agent Miseri slipped in behind the group, arms crossed and watching, her face an expressionless mask.  Setting the girl down, the unknown blonde looked at everything in the prison area with a slight frown while one of the guards unlocked the second gate to get into the cell area.

“This is it?” she asked, underwhelmed.

“It is secure and the deepest point in the facility.  The cells above us have been modified to hold the Kongs and Bulks.”

“Well, this looks pretty makeshift at best, but if he gets this far, it won’t matter, will it?  Who are these others?”

“The boy is a witch that we caught as part of a retrieval operation, the girl is an AIR asset… an experiment in better warfare through applied science.”

“I don’t want them near Toni! Move them if you have to,” the blonde ordered, looking from me to Caeco.  “And get Toni a blanket and pillow or something.  It’s freaking cold down here.”

Hasta glanced at a guard, who slipped out of the prison complex.  He turned back to the new blonde, his expression peeved but his manner conciliatory.   “The boy is in a circle and can’t even get near his bars, Agent Guillotine, and Caeco isn’t a threat to the girl,” he said reassuringly.  “Part of the reason she didn’t work out as a viable option.” He glanced at Miseri, who just nodded in agreement with his risk assessment.

The guard came back with a red wool blanket and a greyish pillow which he threw in a corner of the empty cell.

“What’s down that way?”  the new agent, Guillotine, asked, pointing down the row of cells.

“We have two more prisoners—a lycanthrope and a hemivore. We harvest their proteins.  So you can see that we have the expertise to handle dangerous prisoners.”

“Dangerous prisoners?  A girl from a lab, a boy witch, and two run-of-the-mill supernaturals?  Today’s target, your so-called Brutal Asset, destroyed the entire retrieval team, including four Juiced soldiers in powered armor! He almost got the helicopter, for God’s sake! You have no idea what a dangerous prisoner is,” Guillotine said, her tone slightly mocking.

Hasta looked insulted but he held his tongue as the woman led the girl into the cell. She stood studying the girl for a moment.  “Sorry, Toni, but I needed bait and you’re the best bait I could find.”

The girl, her right hand tugging on some kind of necklace, sniffled a couple of times and then brushed a strand of long brown hair behind her left ear as she stood straight and glared at Guillotine.  “He will come and get me.”

“I’m counting on it,” Guillotine said with a nasty smile.

The girl shook her head.  “Momma said if anyone tried to grab me again to just sit tight.  That he would find me and that everyone who took me would probably die.”

Again?  Tried to take me again?  Just who was this kid?

“She said that everyone thinks they can stop him or catch him.  She says everyone who thinks that is stupid.”

“Ah, but your mother didn’t count on all of this, either, now did she?” Guillotine said, waving one hand at the facility above and around us.

“No, and she didn’t know about the guys in the metal suits, either, but he kicked their butts didn’t he?” the kid answered instantly.   Points to the kid.

The blonde frowned, then abruptly turned to Hasta.  “Show me your preparations,” she demanded.  Hasta’s eyes hardened a bit at the order but he nodded and led the way out of our little prison.  The guards followed, locking each door behind them.

When the last had left, I looked over at the little girl, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Hi… Toni is it?  I’m Declan and she’s Caeco.  We’re prisoners, too,” I said.

She studied me suspiciously for a moment, then went over and sat on the blanket, pulling the pillow onto her lap.  I looked at Caeco, but her expression was mystified, obviously not very familiar with children.

I tried to think of another approach but the girl, Toni, beat me to it.  “You’re a witch?” she asked in the same tone as if she was asking what school sport I played.

“Yeah, I guess I am, although most people would call me a warlock.  Doesn’t really matter, though.”

She looked at me with a frown, her brown eyes dark and serious.  She was about seven or eight, with dark brown or almost black hair and an obviously Hispanic background. Pretty like a doll. Her eyes were red and puffy, but for a little kid who had been kidnapped by helicopter, she didn’t appear to be panicky the way any normal kid should be.

“Mr. Chris doesn’t like witches much.”

“Who is Mr. Chris?” I asked.

“He is my godfather, and he’s coming to get me.  Him and ‘Sos and probably Miss Tanya and all the other Darkkin.”

“Darkkin?”

“You know… vampires,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Your godfather is a vampire?”

“No, that’s silly.  Mr. Chris isn’t a vampire.  Miss Tanya is, though.  She’s pretty much the queen. At least, that’s what momma says.”

“Ah, excuse me, but what do you know of Darkkin, child?” a new male voice asked.  Must be the vampire, Charles.

“You’ve been listening.  You heard what I said.  My godmother is Miss Tanya.  Well, not really.  My aunt is my godmother, but Miss Tanya thinks she is and momma says not to hurt her feelings.  Um, you might know Miss Tanya.  Her full name is Tatiana Demidova and she’s, like, your queen,” the kid answered, not bothering to raise her voice.

My brain was seriously boggled by the fact that this kid was comfortable enough about monsters from folklore to understand their acute senses.

“You are claiming that Tatiana Demidova is your… godmother?” Charles asked in disbelief.

“No, weren’t you listening? She thinks she’s my godmother.  See, her Chosen, Mr. Chris, really is my godfather.  So Miss Tanya naturally decided that she was therefore my godmother.  She knows about my aunt, but she doesn’t really care.”

“Whoa, I’ve heard of this Demidova chick.  She’s a big deal, isn’t she?” the werewolf, Frank, asked.

“You have no idea,” Charles answered, his voice droll.  “The child is correct in stating that she is, in most ways, our queen.”

“How will your godmother find you, Toni?” I asked.

“She’ll follow Mr. Chris and ‘Sos.  They can always find me, and I know they’re on their way,” she answered, fingering her necklace.  Her little hand opened a bit as she did, and I got a good look at the pendant.  I took a step back at the sight of it.  Not that it was shocking-looking or anything.  A silver colored bear, standing on its back legs, paws outstretched, eyes made from some kind of red stones.  It was the ultra-sharp, high definition view I had of it, so clearly defined that it almost warped my vision.  It swam into my sight like a camera had zoomed in on it.  The bear was a magical artifact of some kind.  I had no idea what it did or how it operated, but I could see it was scary powerful.

“Ah, that’s a nice necklace, Toni.  Who gave it to you?”

“Mr. Chris.  This is Oh-kwa-lee.  As long as I have this on, Mr. Chris and Awasos can find me.  And Mr. Grim.  Actually, it’ll be Mr. Grim who comes first.  You probably should be careful when Mr. Grim gets here.  He’s scary!”

Like a vampire godmother wasn’t?  I couldn’t keep up with all these people and names.

“Who is Mr. Grim, Toni?” Caeco asked.

“He’s Mr. Chris, but he isn’t,” she said, frowning at her own answer. “Momma says he’s part of Mr. Chris and he comes out when Mr. Chris gets mad.  Or when people are mean to me.  Momma says he’s the most dangerous bean on the planet.”

“Bean?” I asked.

“Yeah, like human bean,” she explained as if I was stupid. 

“Being.  The word you mean is being,” Caeco corrected.

“Are you sure?  I think it’s bean,” Toni said, unconvinced.

“Wait, wait.  Are you saying he’s like a split personality or something?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation on point.

“Momma says he’s a purse-ownna.”

“Persona?” Caeco asked.

“That’s what I said,” the girl answered, exasperated.

“Young lady, is your godfather Christian Gordon?” the vampire, Charles, asked suddenly.

“Yes.  Mr. Christian Gordon,” she answered, pulling her knees up to her chest.  She was wearing shorts and a pink shirt, both dirty, as were her knobby knees.

“You’ve heard of him?” Frank asked.

“Yes, and I imagine you have, as well.  He is the individual who wiped out Loki’s Spawn, pretty much by himself.”

“That guy?  Holy shit!” Frank answered.

“Can this guy really do this?  Find her and rescue her?” I asked.

“I don’t know him personally, but I have heard stories from people who do know him.  I would tell you that he has defeated everything that’s been thrown against him including the Elders of the Coven and eight hundred deranged weres.”

“What is he?” Caeco asked.

“Nobody really knows.  Perhaps the child knows.”

“Toni, do you know what Mr. Chris is, if he’s not a vampire?” I couldn’t believe I was asking a seven year old about vampires.

She sniffled a little, looking down at her lap.  When she lifted her head, I could see her brave front had crumpled.  Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Ah, Toni, don’t cry.  It’ll be okay,” I said automatically.  I didn’t actually think things were all that great, but you don’t tell little crying kids that.

“I just want my mom.  I don’t want to be here. It’s gonna be so scary!  I don’t like all the explosions and fire and stuff,” she said.

So what do you tell a kid who expects to be rescued from an evil lab by somebody who kills eight hundred weres by himself?  She apparently wasn’t afraid of not being rescued, but was afraid of the rescue itself.

“Hey, have you ever heard of Chuck Norris?” I asked, totally out of my element.

“Really?  You’re really gonna tell her Chuck Norris jokes?” Caeco asked, exasperated.

I shrugged, but Toni perked up, wiping away tears.  “Jokes are good.  I like jokes,” she said.  “Oh, and I don’t know what Mr. Chris is.  But Momma says he’s my personal Guardian Angel.” 

Chapter 36- Miseri

The scope of the preparations being made were exhaustive, and Director Hasta had been making changes for some time.  He had broken and blocked the stairwells in such a way that you were forced to traverse each floor in order to move up or down a level.  Vast quantities of depleted uranium had appeared and were being installed throughout the facility.

The autonomous combat element research team was tuning up a veritable army of drones and robots, some of which were really impressive.  The Spiders, in particular, caught Miseri’s eye, scuttling faster than a human could run and armed with a stacked-munition, electronically fired weapon.  The cyborg gorillas and Hulk-like experimental soldiers seemed a little too Dr. Evil for her tastes, but at the same time, they were impressive.  Which made her wonder about this whole project.  The Council’s obsession with this Brutal Asset character seemed to have no bounds, but from what she had gleaned from her sources and from the general rumors flying around the organization, every attempt to date had failed utterly and rather spectacularly.  Now, they had expended one of the organization’s most highly trained and best-equipped squads to grab his goddaughter.  Miseri couldn’t help but think this was going to be another clusterfuck, but this time, she was caught dead center along with her valuable prizes. 

Slipping away from Hasta’s tour of the base, she left the Director and this new agent, Guillotine, to get to her own quarters and grab her go bag, her tablet, and her kitten.  Talon rode in her slung duffle without protest, thankfully staying out of sight as Miseri looked for the Goth witch girl who was supposed to help her contain the warlock kid.  The girl was nowhere to be found.

“She went out to do her nature stuff or whatever it is witches do.  You know, sacrifice small animals or whatever,” the guard at the command post told her.  “Haven’t seen her since.”

She headed back down, feeling she needed to check her prisoners again.  They were all secure, staring at her silently from their respective cells.  The little girl looked in remarkably good spirits for someone who had been taken by force from her parents.  She had even been laughing when Miseri came through the first door, but she stopped instantly.  Now she just stared like the others.

Miseri turned to go.  “He’s going to kill you.  He’s going to kill everyone,” a high voice said.  She looked back at the child.  Big brown eyes were waiting for her response, serious and upset, but nowhere near panicky.

“Correction, kid… he’s gonna try,” she replied.

The little girl just shook her head.  “Momma says he’s God’s warrior,” she said, stretching out the r’s in warrior.  She had to be only seven or eight.

“Who is your mother, kid?” Miseri asked, curious despite herself.

“Gina Velasquez.  She works for the President sometimes.  About all this stuff,” she replied, waving her hand around.

“What stuff?”

“You know.  Super stuff.  Wolf people, vampires, witches like Declan, stuff like that.”

“And your godfather… have you ever seen him do anything supernatural?”

“Well.  Once on the way home from school, some people tried to hurt us.  I couldn’t really see much ‘cause everything is a blur when Mr. Grim is moving.  But he broke the car and all the people.  Then today, when you stole me.  Mr. Grim and ‘Sos beat up all your soldiers.  Miss Brianna was scared.”

“Who?”

“Miss Brianna.  Everyone here calls her that weird name.  Gee-o-teen,” she replied, sighing and looking tired of the conversation.

“Agent Guillotine?”

“Yeah, but her name is Brianna.  My mom and Mr. Chris know her, but they don’t like her much.  She was so scared, I thought she was gonna poop her pants!” she said derisively. 

Interesting.  Miseri had been wondering about this mysterious Guillotine and why she was suddenly an agent and suddenly in charge.  She had personal history with Brutal Asset and that was her value to the Organization.

Caeco, who had been watching Miseri intently, suddenly tilted her head to one side, a gesture Miseri knew well.  She was listening to something that her enhanced ears could hear.

“Gunfire,” she said, eyes locked on Miseri but her comment directed to everyone.

“He’s here.  I told you,” the little girl said, sitting down on her blanket.

Unsettled, Miseri stepped back through the main cell block door, closing it behind her.  Standing and listening, she finally heard it, just on the very edge of her hearing… pop-pop.  Pop. Like the tiny ladyfinger firecrackers her father used to light for her, only her experience told her what it really was—gunfire.

The sound of running feet drowned out the tiny popping sounds from far above her as two people rushed out of the stairwell.  Hasta and Guillotine appeared like magic, looking slightly panicky.  Upon seeing Miseri, both drew themselves up and tried to look calm.

“Ah, Agent Miseri.  How are our prisoners?” Hasta asked, smoothing his dress shirt.

“They’re fine.  What’s going on?”

“It would appear that our guest of honor has arrived somewhat early.  Agent Guillotine and I will monitor the traps from the Box.  You, my dear, will have the honor of guarding our leverage, the young girl.  Keep your blade handy; in fact, keep it in sight of the security camera.  We may need to show him footage of you, her, and your famous blade to keep him compliant.”

“You want me to threaten a kid?”

“I am ordering you to threaten that kid!” Hasta snapped. “Now get in there and do your duty to the Organization!”

With that, he turned and led the woman toward the Box, the giant Lexan structure that housed another AIR experiment—some bizarre concoction of wormholes, string theory, and witchcraft.

Miseri watched them leave, then felt a rumble roll through the floor under her feet.  Startled, a sinking feeling growing in her stomach, she turned and rushed back to the cell block door.

Chapter 37 – Krista

She was, Krista figured, almost three miles from the base when she felt her circle break.  It was not a feeling she’d experienced often… breaking another witch’s circle was frowned upon but relatively easy to do from outside, which, to her knowledge, was the only way to do it.  Apparently not.  Somehow, that kid had shattered her circle from inside it.  The kickback was fierce.

Had she been anywhere in the base, she had no doubt the backlash would have knocked her for a loop, possibly even unconscious.  As it was, the sudden snap of her own power dropped her to the ground, adding further damage to her torn tights.  The ground shook slightly, just enough to get her attention.  Time to move on.  Her premonition had been spot on.

She climbed to her feet and pulled out her phone.  “Gillian?  Things have changed here,” she began, walking the side of the road as she talked.  A sign across the road from her indicated the Town of Alstead was two miles ahead.  She picked up her pace even as she reported, shuddering as she considered how close she’d come to being caught back there, on that doomed base.

Chapter 38- Declan

I heard the cell block door open behind me but kept my right hand on Caeco’s arm and my left on the lock to her cell.  The sound of fast steps rushing forward filled my ears and finally, I couldn’t stand it any further, looking back over my shoulder.

Miseri was unlocking the outer gate, a long, thin knife held openly in one hand, her eyes locked on me.  The cell lock clicked under my fingers and I let go to turn and face Miseri leaving my right hand touching Caeco for a second longer.  Then I stepped aside and faced the blonde agent, who was visibly upset about what I was doing.  What did she expect us to do once Caeco heard the conversation with the Director?  Watch her threaten a little girl?

Fit and fierce were the two words that popped into my head as I watched Miseri approach.  She moved like a trained fighter and I had no doubt that her own Juice supplements were fully up to date.  Faster, stronger, and better trained.  Great!

Breaking the circle had been hard, taking every erg of energy I had managed to hoard.  Being circled wasn’t a new experience by any means.  From the time I could crawl, my mother and aunt had circled me to keep me safe.  An eldritch playpen for baby warlocks.  Apparently, the first time I stood up on my own wobbly legs, I had leaned on my mother’s circle like it was just another wall.  The circles my aunt and mom used had been spelled to prevent shocking me, but most witches would still have avoided touching them.  Not me.  Always the different one.

I broke my first circle at eight.  I was being punished for sneaking into the walk-in cooler and eating a substantial part of that night’s dessert pies.  So Aunt Ash circled me in the apartment and went back to the kitchen to see what could be salvaged.  Pissed at being circled like a baby, I had pushed my whole hand through till I could bend my wrist and touch the outside of the circle with one fingertip.  The backlash had sent my aunt first to the ground and then to her bed for the rest of the night.  I was so scared and worried that I refused to participate in the experiments she came up with the next day, until she had Darci close a circle that she’d prepared.  Humans without Craft can close a circle; it just takes willpower and training.  Not as strong as something closed by a witch, but still strong enough to hold most witches and even some demons. An untalented human would never feel a blowback of power, and Darci hadn’t been bothered when I broke hers.

Miseri looked from me to Caeco, then her eyes flicked to the cell door, which was closed.  Looking back, she looked me over, obviously weighing my condition.  It didn’t weigh much. 

Breaking the circle had taken all the power I’d managed to build up, and standing on warded ground had prevented me from absorbing any new.  So my magic battery was drained and all I had were my hands and feet, my brain and my training. It wasn’t going to be enough. If this were an action movie, then I would likely win the day through some combination of luck and plucky nerve.  But against a highly trained, enhanced and experienced soldier armed with her favorite weapon?  Not likely… at least by myself.

I reached over and pulled on Caeco’s cell door.  It opened.  Earth witchcraft is hell on locks.

Miseri instantly moved back three feet and reached behind her back with her left hand, drawing out a pistol-shaped object that I would recognize anywhere.  Taser.

Caeco stepped out of her cell, eyes locked on Miseri, while I struggled to keep a poker face in place.   

The blonde agent pointed the Taser at Caeco while keeping her knife hand aimed toward me, moving back from us as we spread apart.  I flicked a look at Caeco; our eyes met and agreed.  We both started forward, and Miseri spoke.

“Pugna Congelo Caeco!” 

Caeco froze, but I kept going, rushing faster.  Miseri brought her knife up, but I caught her arm in Krav Reference Point One and stepped inside her reach.  Her reaction was simple—she brought her left hand around reflexively, pressing the Taser against my side and triggering its full power. Must have been a combat instinct, something she hadn’t thought through because her eyes had an Oh shit!  What did I just do? look in them.  Electricity shot through my side. What a relief!  Power filled me and left as I returned the gesture, one hand on her forearm, the other on her left shoulder.  The arc was strong enough to blow us apart, leaving me in a crouch five feet away and her still standing, if only barely.  Stunned, hands, arms, and clothes blackened, she still managed to stay on her feet.  That’s when Caeco stepped forward in a blur of motion, knocked her knife to the ground, and gripped the back of her head in one hand and her chin in the other, extended claws visibly hooked into Miseri’s skin.  Staring straight into Miseri’s widening eyes, she held her place for just a moment, then her arms exploded into motion—twisting counter-clockwise with a sharp snap.

Miseri collapsed to the ground, her body bouncing in a boneless slump.  Caeco looked down at her for a second, her expression blank… almost.  There was a hint of regret, for just a microsecond, before it hardened into resolve.  Then she grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head, leaving her in just her bra and jeans.  She froze and turned to look at me, eyebrows raised.

I shrugged.  “Told you.  It was easier to change the command to something else than delete the file entirely.”  I took a step back at her sudden frown.  “The good news is it’s just an impulse, not a directive.  You can resist it.”

She looked down at her t-shirt, then shrugged her way back into it.  “But it had to be stripping?  Really?”

“Look I was tired, hungry, and a little punch drunk.”

“So now what?  You can reprogram me whenever you touch me?” she asked bitterly.

“Um, no.  No one can reprogram your nannites now except you.  I deleted all the authorization passwords and the backdoor password.  They’re clever little machines and they were bonded to you long ago, but now they are truly a part of you.”

“What do you mean?  How can I program them?” she asked, eyes wide.

I shrugged.  “Not entirely sure.  Visualization maybe?  Meditation?  We’ll figure it out.  I can still talk to them, act as an interpreter till you get the feel of it. It shouldn’t be too hard,” I said, a little nervous with the look she was giving me.  Was that a glimmer in her eyes?  Tears?  Not good!  I don’t do well with tears.

A sniffle behind me caused me to turn.  Toni was huddled in the corner of her cell, as far from where Caeco and I stood as possible.  As far from Miseri’s body as she could get.  Idiot!  Of course she was, duh!

I moved over to her cell door and drew some power from the unWarded ground beneath my sneakers.  The lock clicked obligingly and the door swung open.

“Hey Toni, it’s okay.  She’s not gonna hurt anyone now.  We’ll just wait here for a rescue,” I said, glancing at Caeco for help.  She just stared at us, head tilted to one side.  Hmm, maybe consoling scared children wasn’t part of her skill set.

“The gunfire has gotten closer,” she said.

I listened.  Slight rumbles and a few small pops were all I could hear. Then even they went quiet.

Toni was staring at Miseri’s body and trembling.  She climbed to her feet and came over near me, still looking at the dead agent.

“Hey, don’t look at her, Toni.  Look at me.  Hey, have I told you about Chuck Norris?” I asked, grasping at straws.

She sniffled. “Only like a hundred times.”

“Did I tell you about the time Chuck Norris fought Superman?  The loser had to wear his underwear on the outside of his clothes,” I said.

“That’s stupid!” Caeco contributed.

I was about to thank her for her help when the room shuddered and the cell block door disappeared in a roar of tearing metal and exploding concrete.  One moment, it was there, solid and massive, the next, it was gone, yanked away like it never been.  A small cloud of dust swirled in its place till it was brushed aside by the passage of wind. 

A man was standing outside the bars of the second barrier, just suddenly there.  His jeans and t-shirt were ripped and filthy and his short brown hair was dusted with powdered concrete.

I’m not sure if I blinked between the doorframe’s destruction or not, but he was literally just instantly there.  Intense eyes stared at us—eyes a freaky color of purple.  They were focused on Toni, but then they flicked to me and to Caeco and I realized they were the eyes of a killer.

Chapter 39- Declan

When I think back on it the overall impression I recall is power.  Enormous barely constrained power.  Think nuclear bomb in a human body.

He wasn’t overly tall, but he was powerfully built.  His forearms were like twisted cables, and the torn gaps in his t-shirt displayed shredded muscles on top of muscles.  His t-shirt might once have been gray, or maybe light blue.  It was impossible to tell because it was torn and stained, covered in debris, and darkened with fluids I didn’t want to guess at.

It was his eyes and expression that froze me.  I’ve never seen eyes that color—a violet purple so shocking bright, they almost seemed to glow.  And his face was the mask of a serial killer, all angles, high cheekbones, and tight, tan skin.

“Mr. Chris!” Toni yelled.

Then he twitched and the heavy duty steel barrier gate ripped free of its mountings in a shriek of tortured steel.  He did it one-handed—without moving.  It was impossible.

I got a Five on my AP Physics test, the highest score you can get. I understand things like leverage and friction.  I know why a heavy duty crane or a warehouse forklift need heavy counterweights to keep from tipping over.  It doesn’t matter how strong something is, it needs base and leverage to effectively use that strength.

He should have sent his own body sideways or something.  At least braced his feet against the other bars.  He did nothing.  Just stood there and exerted more force than my Cruiser could without any slippage, loss of balance, or even movement.  A machine couldn’t have done what he did.  Then he flickered.  Like poor video. I felt wind and then he was solid again and holding Toni on his hip, even as the metal bars and gate were still settling to the floor.  The air smelled of hot metal, like shop class when we learned about welding.

I looked down between Caeco and me just to be sure of what I already knew.  The kid was somehow in his arms.  Caeco was frozen, but it was the careful freeze of someone standing in the presence of a dangerous predator.

The man, Toni’s godfather, stood watching us, his head tilted just slightly sideways as if seeing something.  His expression was cold—creepy eyes seeing everything, looking right through us.

“You a witch, kid?” he asked me.  His voice was normal, average even.  And his eyes were now less strange, like someone else was home.

“Declan, Mr. Chris.  His name is Declan and she is Caeco, and they’re my friends!” the little girl in his arms said firmly.  “They saved me from that lady there,” she said, her little finger pointing at Miseri’s body before she decided it was safer to tuck her face behind her godfather’s shoulder.  From that point of safety, she continued, “Declan can do stuff with electricity and Caeco is fast, at least for a normal girl.”

His purple eyes focused suddenly on my hand, and Caeco’s warm touch on my arm made me realize I had been channeling power.  I stopped.  Fast. 

Have you ever gotten the sense that you were outclassed?  Suddenly exposed to the big league?  Like when your peewee football team meets an NFL player.  That was the feeling I had then.  My magic was soooo not a factor in any confrontation with this guy.

“You’re the godfather,” Caeco said. 

He looked at her, expression less severe.  “Yup.  What happened?” His hand flicked in the direction of Miseri’s body.

“I think your arrival caught them off guard.  She came to get Toni and we… interfered,” Caeco replied evenly.  I was a bit in awe of her right then, as I’m pretty sure my own voice would have squeaked.

“Mr. Chris, there’s a Darkkin man down thataway, and a wolf guy, too,” Toni suddenly added, her little arm indicating the row of cells.  I couldn’t hear anything from those guys, but then, they were probably smart enough to avoid catching his attention.

The ground shook and the loudest roar I have ever heard blasted the room as a monster plowed through the cell block doorway.  So big and so many teeth filled my view that it took me much longer than it should have to realize it was a gigantic bear.  Black fur over brown, head almost even with my own as it raced in, eyes glowing red as it bulldozed the broken doorway wider.  It thundered into the room, stopping just behind the man, who hadn’t even twitched.  Caeco was simply gone, ten feet or more further back in the room, and my magic had decided to present itself without consulting me first—blue arcs snapping around my hands.

Toni was squirming in the man’s arms, trying to get down, but he turned and lifted her onto the monster behind them.  She wriggled around, smiling, and I realized she was getting comfortable!  On the back of the biggest bear I’d ever heard of.  Like she did it every day.

The monster’s head swiveled back and sniffed her, a massive tongue flicking out to lick her here and there.  Its head was so big that if it had liked the taste of child, it could have consumed her whole in one bite.  She giggled.  Then the head came back around and the eyes, which were now brown, went red again.

“Declan, don’t do anything sparky, okay?  You’ll just make him mad,” Toni said to me, a worried expression on her face, and the blue fire on my fingers died all on its own.  She was riding at least a half ton of what looked to be a Kodiak brown bear and her godfather stood in front of it watching us.

“Yo? Everyone alright?” a voice asked.  A movie star stood in the doorway with a big assault-looking gun in her hands.  Blonde, beautiful, and wearing form-fitting black clothes, she was looking us all over, eyes flicking here and there but always coming back to the man.

“I’m with the relief force.  We found the mess you left all through this place, so I headed here.  Heard fur face here announcing himself,” she said, relaxed and calm, her hair swinging as she threw a nod toward the monster bear.  “Hey Toni, you okay?”

“Yes, Miss Stacia.  I told them that they would be sorry.  That Mr. Chris and Miss Tanya would come and ‘Sos—” she patted the beast under her “—and everyone and it would be real bad.  I told them that Mr. Chris would be angry,” she finished, glancing at her godfather with a worried expression.  He turned to the giant bear and grabbed it by the jaw, his hand absurdly small against the massive head.  Dispite the size difference, when he shook his hand, it moved the keg-sized head.

“You—get her out of here.  Do not stop to fight with anything—got it?  Just kill anything in your way, but head straight out,” he said, like the bear understood English.

He looked up at the little girl. “You—stay on the bear!  Hang on tight; both fists full of fur!” he commanded.  Toni nodded, grasping her hands deep into the thick black fur.

Then his violet eyes were on us—Caeco and me.  “You two: follow them and get out.  There will be people upstairs that’ll help you get home,” he said.  His voice was insistent and concerned, and his face was more alive, almost normal.  The serial killer had stepped away.  The concerned godfather was in residence.

He looked over at the movie star.  She had that big combat weapon resting butt-first on her cocked hip, which only emphasized her figure more.

“Stewart upstairs?” he asked her.  She simply nodded, eyes glued to his.  “Follow this crew and make sure they all get out all right.  Stewart should meet these guys,” he said, waving a hand our way, even as we moved around him to follow the bear.  “I’m gonna find Tanya and have a chat with whoever took Toni,” he said, his voice changing—getting deeper and more threatening.  The serial killer was back.

“Time to go, everybody.  Grimmy’s gonna smack somebody,” the blonde said, making shooing motions toward the bear.

The big beast was already headed through the now-almost-circular doorway.  I saw Caeco snag a bag from the ground, something that Miseri had dropped when she had come back the second time and found us out of our cages.  Then we were out of the cell block and moving toward the stairwell, almost at a full run.  The bear plowed ahead, a fur-covered combat tank that knocked any obstacle out of his path.

Caeco was fast, keeping close to the kid and her bear, and it was all I could do to keep up.  I glanced behind, expecting to have lost the blonde chick, but she was right there, jogging along effortlessly.  Maybe not a movie star.

We passed through a steel door and into a gray room.  Blood pooled on the floor around a number of big bodies.  Shell casings made the footing dicey for a moment as we moved across the room.  The bear ignored the dark doorways on either side, slowing only to cuff something big and black out of his path with a growl.  I glanced at it as I ran by and realized it had once been an ape—a giant gorilla with a metal electronic collar.  Now it was a broken heap of worm food.

Then we were climbing stairs again, coming out into a confusing space that looked like movie sets.   A small forest, a town street, the inside of an apartment building, one after the other, each littered with little machines.  Some with legs, some with treads, a few with wings, they all appeared to be robots or maybe advanced drones, all broken, a couple pinned to the walls with what looked like darts.  Interesting, but my group didn’t slow down enough for me to get a good look. 

Another stairwell approached, this one with people coming out of it.  A tall man and a tiny woman, both very pale, stepped out then immediately blurred to one side, giving the bear tank right of way. 

“Alright, Toni!” the little dark-haired woman said, giving the girl a wave and a nod. Toni just smiled and hung on for dear life as her grizzly horse ran past. Then the little woman turned and looked at Caeco and I curiously.  Tiny points of white, white fang were just visible against the brilliant red of her lips.  Another vampire. 

She frowned a little at the blonde behind me, but nodded without a word and waved her giant friend to follow her as she headed toward where we had come from .

A string of bodies showed up on the next floor above, getting steadily more numerous as we climbed yet more stairs.  They were all clothed in black uniforms and all dead from mainly head wounds.  Then we went through a tunnel, into a circular command center, up spiral stairs, through vault doors, and up another tunnel and into a house.  Didn’t expect that.  Looked like a nice place to live except for the dead bodies around the fireplace.  More guards in uniforms. Blood everywhere.  A body-less head lying by the wall.  White walls splashed red.

The bear went through the average-looking doorway, leaving it looking larger by two sizes of broken wood and sheet rock.  We followed, still at a jog, emerging into a wide open space that was humming with activity.

Four black military helicopters were positioned around us on what appeared to be a runway. Heavily armed soldiers in digital camouflage surrounded the area, keeping watch as people and material was being loaded onto the copters.  It was like Delta Force had come to rescue us.  Or maybe rescue the girl.  Or most  likely of all… here to mop up after the guy in the torn t-shirt got done dismembering the base.

Chapter 40 – Declan

“Over here, this way,” our blonde escort directed, taking us toward a slim, white-haired man in a black suit.  He looked like a really lean Colonel Sanders, with a white mustache and goatee.  A compact woman with dark hair stood to his side, working an iPad but watching us approach.

“Director Stewart, got some people for you to meet,” our bombshell said as we got closer.  The man had a black cane which he used as he moved forward to join us.  He limped very slightly, and I got the impression that the cane was more of an accessory than a needed crutch.

“Miss Reynolds and Toni!  Are you alright, my dear?” he asked the girl, looking up at her.  He patted the giant bear in an unthinking manner as he concentrated on the little girl.  These people were bizarre.

“Hi, Mr. Stewart.  Hi, Miss Adine,” Toni said, relaxing her handholds of fur and sitting upright.  The compact woman had moved up alongside the man, Stewart, and she smiled, slightly, at Toni.  Her expression smoothed back to a serious poker face.

“Okay, fur face. Hunker down a bit,” Stacia said to the bear.  He just looked at her, but she huffed slightly in exasperation and he relented, lowering his body so she could grab the child.

As soon as Toni’s feet hit the ground, though, he sat up and wrapped one giant paw around her to pull her into the cave formed by his chest and front legs.  His paw covered her entire torso from shoulders to thigh, the cruelly hooked front claws carefully not touching her.  She giggled.

Stacia pulled the platter-sized paw away to give Toni a thorough inspection, then let it go when she was satisfied with the girl’s condition.

“Yo, need a blanket over here and some water,” she yelled to no one in particular.  Then she turned back to us.  “Chris felt you should meet these two.”

I had heard quite a bit about the Director from Mike West, whose tone of voice always indicated vast respect when he mentioned his name.  Interesting to meet the man in person.  Not as tall as I expected, and older.

“Director, this is Declan and she’s Caeco. They’re...” Stacia started, but he interrupted.

“Oh, I know who they are!  Michael West has told me so much about you both.  I’m as happy to see you both safe as I am Toni.  Not happy that I’ve failed to keep all three of you safe, though.  I’m sure you’re as disappointed with me as Chris must be?” he asked, slightly sad but still chipper.

“Chris is upset with himself, Director,” Stacia said as she accepted a blanket from a slightly anxious technician and began to wrap the little girl.  “He sees Toni’s safety as his responsibility and his alone.” 

The bear growled, sounding like a bulldozer engine.  “I know ‘Sos, but that’s how he sees it,” she answered.  The growling stopped.

“You have a very good insight with him, Miss Reynolds,” Stewart said, looking interested.

Stacia snorted.  “I think you know it’s a bit more than that, Director.  But can I leave these two with you?  I’m gonna get Toni loaded onto one of the birds.”

“Certainly, Miss Reynolds.”

“’Sos, you can’t get on a chopper like that—you’re too heavy.  Change,” she said to the bear as she scooped the little blanket-wrapped girl up and started walking.  The bear growled, but then the most amazing thing happened.   It shimmered, its outline blurring and pulsing with a violet light.  It shrank and a huge wolf stood in its place—a black and tan wolf with exactly the same coloring, markings, and eyes, just much smaller. Smaller as in only Shetland pony-sized instead of Mini Cooper-sized.  It trotted after the blonde and the tiny child, its head swiveling to scan the night.

“Most unusual, wouldn’t you say?” Director Stewart observed.

“What is he?” Caeco asked.

“No one knows.  Chris calls him a were-bear-wolf.   Like so many things in Chris’s life, Awasos defies explanation,” he answered.  “But back to you two.  We did a poor, poor job protecting you.  I am very sorry about that.  What do they say?  Three strikes and you’re out?”

“Well, Director Stewart, Miseri was a world-class operative and she’s been in charge of my security my whole life.  She was very persistent,” Caeco replied.

“Is she no longer with us?” he asked.

“We—I killed her,” she said.  “I overheard her being ordered to use Toni hostage against her godfather.  Declan was able to free himself and then me.  We stopped her.”

I moved over and put a hand on her arm.  Not sure exactly why, it just seemed… right. I know Caeco had killed a man before, in self-defense.  So have I.  But both were strangers—hostile, life-threatening strangers.  This woman, Miseri, had been part of Caeco’s entire life.  That had to change things.

“Is that her bag?” I asked, patting the desert tan duffle still slung over Caeco’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah. I forgot.  I heard something inside it,” she answered, pulling the duffle around in front of her and unzipping the top.  A marmalade-colored head popped out with a tiny, almost soundless meow.

“A kitten?  She had a kitten?” I asked.  Hard to balance a pet kitten with the dangerous agent who had captured and imprisioned us both.

“Talon.  Her name is Talon,” Caeco said, reading the tiny tag on the kitten’s collar.

“Well, it appears you are now a pet owner,” Stewart said with a smile.  “You’re also both Seniors this year, am I correct?”

“Yes sir,” I answered for both of us.

“College plans, I presume?”

“That’s what I hope, but nothing concrete yet.  I’m not sure about Caeco,” I said, looking at her.

“We never got that far in our planning.  The goal was just to integrate and disappear,” she replied with a shrug.

“I have a feeling that I’m going to be busy for a while with all this, but at the end of it, AIR should be mostly shattered.  I’d like to offer you an opportunity.  We’ll pay for college, the institution of your choice, and in return, you’ll work with us on a part-time basis.”

“Doing what?” I asked after a glance at Caeco.

“This and that.  Helping train our people.  Maybe help with a case here or there.  Continue your own training.”

“So what, like an academy or something?” I asked, thinking he wasn’t bald enough to be Professor Xavier.

“Nothing so rigid, Declan.  My idea is to help train the next generation of operatives.  More of a guided program.  College courses mixed with more specialized training, all overseen by a  guidance counselor of sorts.”

“Just us?”

He smiled and shook his head.  “Oddly, I have recently become acquainted with or aware of an unlikely number of incredibly unique teenagers, most right around your age.  I thought I would let the two of you pick a college and, providing that its course catalogue offers enough breadth, then we would set up the additional training facilities nearby.  We can talk more later; right now, I think it would be a good idea to get you loaded into a chopper.”

His assistant was already waving over an air crewman to take charge of us.  We followed the young guy in a flight suit to the helicopter next to the one that Stacia had taken Toni and the wolf to. 

After getting his help with the complicated seatbelt arrangement, we sat back and looked at each other.

“Thank you,” Caeco said.

I tried to remember what I had done.  The crewman had done most of the belt work and mainly on me, as Caeco appeared to be familiar with Blackhawk helicopters.  So that wasn’t it.  Nothing else popped up.

“For what?” I finally asked.

“For clearing the nannites programming.  For giving me myself back,” she said, a scary glimmer of something tearlike in the corner of her eye.

“Well, that was complete and utter bullshit!” I said, glancing away, a little embarrassed.  I looked back to see she was moving closer to me.  Like real close.  Her hand moved, wicked quick, and grabbed the back of my head. An irresistible force pulled me to her lips. 

It wasn’t my first kiss.  But it was the first kiss that really meant anything other than overexcited hormones.  She pulled back with sly smile, but her eyes were watching me: careful, vulnerable.

“If you think you can retrieve your lost nannites that way, I’ll have you know it’s going to take a lot more than one kiss,” I said.  “Oh, and we should probably double-check that the command phrase doesn’t work anymore.”

Her eyebrows arched.  “You mean the command that now makes me take off my clothes?”

“Well, that’s what I think it might do.  Wouldn’t want to find out that it still froze you, now would we?”

“Boys are incredibly transparent,” she said with a sniff, but she was smiling when she said it.

A commotion outside stole our attention.

The security personnel were focused on the chalet’s front door, several of them touching their earpieces as if listening.

The door opened and a black-haired goddess stood there, surveying the area.  Then she glided forward, too smooth for words to describe.  She was average height, but that was the last time I applied the word average to her.  Black hair, white skin, and eyes that I could tell were blue from two hundred feet away despite the uneven glare of the security lights.  She was wearing boots of some kind, jeans, and a black t-shirt, all of which hugged an incredible figure. She had a crisscrossed harness that probably held the two swords poking over her back but definitely did rather fascinating things to her shirt.

Immediately following her was the tiny vampire we had met below, then Toni’s godfather and lastly, the big guy who most likely was also a vampire by the way he moved.

Chris looked like he had been through hell, his shirt torn completely open at the chest and looking wet with something dark and drippy.  But his skin was unbroken, just ridiculously shredded with ultra-defined muscle.  That kind of thing can give a kid a complex.  I mean, I’m in pretty good shape, even have some six pack definition, but he looked like a damned comic book character.  He stumbled once coming down the stairs and the huge guy behind him hovered in a strangely protective manner but didn’t actually touch him.  It wasn’t necessary, as Chris’s gait smoothed out within four or five steps and became as smooth as the vampires’.

The beautiful girl and Chris met Stewart but continued walking toward Toni’s helicopter.  Stewart questioned them about something, Chris responded by shaking his head and patting his wrist where a watch would be and said something that looked emphatic based on his head and body movements.  Stewart turned and held up one hand, spinning it in a circle, index finger pointed up.  Universal signal for mount up.

People started to board helicopters, ours included.  A small group of geeky, nervous-looking people were escorted onto our helicopter by two guards who got them belted in and sat on either side of their row.  Two more individuals climbed in and sat next to me. 

One was barefoot, wearing jeans and a casual button-down black shirt, with bushy brown hair and an unkempt beard.  The other was pale and blonde, dressed in a stained white dress shirt, suit pants, and black dress shoes.  They both looked worn and tired.  The one in the dress clothes turned to us.  “We haven’t met formally.  I’m Charles. This is Frank,” he said, waving at his companion.

“Oh, from the cells,” I said, recognizing his voice.  Right, the vampire and the werewolf.  Sitting next to us.  Almost touching.  I wondered if I should get alarmed, then decided I was too tired.  “Nice to meet you.  I’m Declan, and this is Caeco.”

They shook our hands and settled back.  There was a flicker of motion at the open door and the little vampire stood there.  She tossed a couple of dark plastic bags to Charles and a wrapped sandwich to Frank.  Then she looked at us and threw two more sandwiches in our direction.  Caeco beat me to them by a mile, but handed one to me with a sly smile.

The little vampire watched for a moment, then looked at the nerd types seated across from us.

“We’re outta here.  Everyone play nice because there’s no time for any crap, got it?  This place is endangered in a big way, so we’ll regroup in a few minutes.”  She looked around, caught Frank and Charles’ eyes, and waited for them to acknowledge her words.  They both nodded.  She disappeared in a flicker of motion.

“Who was that?” I asked Charles as our helicopter lifted off.

“That’s Lydia Chapman.  She’s Tatiana’s right hand,” he answered, sharp fangs biting open a bag that listed its contents as O positive.

“Tatiana?  Is that the dark-haired supermodel-type with the swords?” I asked.

He laughed, swallowed his first gulp of the bag’s red contents, and nodded. 

“Supermodel?” Caeco asked quietly by my side, her eyes narrowed.

“Oh come on!  Between her, the blonde, and, him, it’s like Hollywood on a fashion runway!” I said.

She considered, then grinned.  “True, he is pretty hot,” she agreed.

“And really, really taken,” Charles added.

“By the brunette or the blonde?  I couldn’t tell,” I asked.

“By Tatiana.  I’m not sure who the blonde is,” Charles answered.

“Stacia Reynolds.  She’s part of the New York Pack, but I heard she’s tied in with the guy and the vampires somehow,” Frank said.  “These are big-time players, kid!”

“I got that impression, myself,” I answered, but Frank’s attention had moved to the line of people sitting across from us.

“Hey Steve, wanna take a blood sample?” he asked one of the nerds, who started shaking.  His tone held a distinctly menacing note to it.  Both guards tensed.

“Leave off for now, Frank,” Charles said, turning to look out the right side window.  Caeco was looking that way, too.

“Why should I?  Maybe I should get a sample or two from old Steve-o?” Frank asked, his tone deepening.  This would be a bad place to be if he wolfed out.  I started to gather my power.

“Because something is coming!  Something big!” Charles said, pointing out the window.  We all looked, following his finger. 

A point of light was visible high in the night sky.  Small but super bright.  Everyone in the aircraft was watching it now, even the pilot and co-pilot.  It got bigger… and brighter.  Fast.  Then it shot across behind us, a streak of bright magnesium light.  A flash lit up the night, turning darkness to sun, hot-white.

“Brace yourselves!” the co-pilot yelled, and then God shook the helicopter like a toy.  The sandwich I had gulped down almost came back up as I went hard against my restraints, then down even harder against the seat, the G forces invisibly pressing me back against the wall behind me.  The helicopter tilted nose down and accelerated forward as if something shoved it, and a roar like Heaven falling pounded my ears.

The pilot was visibly wrestling with his controls while his co-pilot snapped switches and made a series of very fast adjustments.  The shaking continued for what seemed like a lifetime. It finally settled down and the chopper leveled out.

“Everyone alright?” the crewchief asked, his voice damped by the buzz of my surely damaged ears.  I looked at Caeco, who seemed okay but stunned.  No duh, lackwit.  Her hearing is like ten times better than yours. Of course she’s stunned.  She nodded at me, eyes wide.  We couldn’t see behind us, but the night was still being illuminated by something—something back where the base was.  Maybe used to be.

Chapter 41 – Declan

We landed a few minutes later at some tiny country airport that was really just a single runway with a single large hangar and a couple of little Cessna airplanes.

An overweight bearded guy in a Carhartt jacket and dirty jeans was standing outside the open door to the combination hangar and flight control, looking thunderstruck at the slick, black helicopters that had descended on his field.  His head kept turning to look back north, where a glowing, flickering tower of smoke and ash rolled upward in a scary mushroom cloud.

Flight crews jumped out and started to check their birds over with powerful flashlights, looking for damage.  Another pair jumped out of the helicopter to our right, their motions so fluid that I instantly knew who they had to be.  A split second later, Toni’s godfather was standing in the open doorway, the gorgeous black-haired woman by his side.  He scanned the interior of the helicopter , nodded to Frank and Charles, ignored the scientist types who had all frozen in fear, and pinned me and Caeco with those bizarre violet eyes.  Everybody in the chopper was watching him. As the silence started to grow, I noticed he had the same torn and stained jeans but a new t-shirt, a red one.

“You alright?” he asked.  He didn’t ask if anyone else was okay, even though it was obvious that everyone was.  Just Caeco and me.  I nodded, unable to find my voice in the face of their gazes, one blue-eyed, the other violet.

“Yes, Chris.  We are fine,” Caeco said with a disgustingly calm voice.

He nodded and turned to his companion.  “Tanya, these are the ones who helped Toni.  Declan and Caeco.”

She smiled at us, and the night lit up all over again.

“Thank you for helping our goddaughter.  The people who took her have been punished, but it would have been all for nothing if she had been stabbed before we could get to her.  We are forever in your debt,” she said in an accented voice that seemed to cut clearly through all the noise of the still-turning engine and my blast-dampened ears.  Then she nodded once more and was gone.  There, then not.

“Okay, well, I think if all the copters are okay, we’ll move on to another airport, further south.  Maybe something a bit bigger,” he said with a smile. “We’ll talk some more there.”  He had his hands in his pockets and was standing casually, maybe a little distracted.  The serial killer was nowhere to be found and he was just a guy—an incredibly shredded guy with weird purple eyes. He nodded and walked at a normal pace back to his helicopter where the raven-headed beauty waited for him.

“Wow, kid.  Do you know what just happened?” Frank asked, eyes wide.

“Not really,” I admitted.

“You’ve been claimed by some pretty important people,” Charles answered.

“Claimed?” I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that.  The scientist types across from us were looking completely washed out, almost sickly.  They had also looked really scared when Chris and Tanya had looked their way. 

“They publicly announced that they owe you a life debt.  That puts you both under their protection.  The same protection that just vaporized a hardened underground fortress,” Charles explained.

I didn’t have anything to say to that, but the werewolf and the vampire looked visibly impressed while the scientists just looked bugged.  Caeco shrugged when I looked her way, and I shrugged back.  We would just have to wait and see what all this meant.  I only wanted to get back to my sleepy little life in boring Castlebury, Vermont. I sat back and closed my eyes, just for a moment.

Something shifted and I jumped up, peeling my eyes open.  Must have fallen asleep… for a while, because we were landing, and based on the red, blue, and green runway lights stretching into the distance, it was a much bigger airport than the last one.

My head was pointed Caeco’s way and I saw she had been sleeping, too.  But she woke up a lot better than I did.  She just opened her eyes and looked alert.  Me, I had a puddle of drool on my shirt and some wicked Elmer’s eye glue keeping my lids from opening fully.  Not pretty.  Despite that, I was intensely aware of her warm hand holding mine.  Had we been sleeping like that?

The night around us was lit with a harsh combination of lights, mostly aircraft and car headlights, although the flashing emergency police and ambulance lights certainly added to the glare.

“Okay, everybody out,” the crewman said, moving briskly to clear out his passengers.

We stumbled to the ground, crouching under the slowing blades, then followed the vampire and the werewolf toward a group of ground vehicles.  Halfway there, I recognized the group of individuals standing off to one side.  My aunt, Darci, and Levi stood with Caeco’s mom near the front of an Escalade. 

Caeco was already pulling me in their direction, again faster on the uptake than I was.  Annoying girl.  She smiled at me, happy to see her mother.  Okay, so maybe not so annoying.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another group reuniting.  Chris, Tanya, the wolf, Toni on the wolf, and Stacia were meeting up with a man and woman.  The man was big and burly, dressed in rumpled slacks and a casual jacket.  The woman was an adult version of Toni, attractive in jeans and a sweater, arms open and eyes focused on the little girl.  The wolf had run ahead, his back so high that the woman and man only had to lean forward to gather their daughter into their arms.  A second later, Chris and the two women were there.

“What’s he saying? Can you hear?” I asked my companion with the designer hearing.

“I am so sorry!  I will find a way to prevent this from ever happening again!  She’s responding with Even you can’t be in two places at once,” Caeco related.  Our interlude ended right then and we our own reunion began.  My aunt swept me into a big hug, followed by Darci and then, after a pause, Levi.  Caeco and her mom were slightly less demonstrative, but I could just about feel the emotion from their more subdued greeting.

Aunt Ash broke the hug to look me over.  “You look a bit rumpled dear, but brilliant!” she said, then hugged me again.  Everyone started talking, and it was a bit confusing.  I got the idea that Director Stewart had flown them here, wherever here was, and that Aunt Ash had known we were alright but before she could help Stewart track us down, the action was already over.

“Yeah, it was unreal!” I said, getting ready to launch into the story. “What happened?” Darci asked. Levi’s sudden direct gaze over my shoulder stopped my response.  The others looked behind me as well, so I turned.

Chris was approaching, violet eyes fixed on us, but they were relaxed eyes, not crazed killer eyes.  “He happened,” I said.

“Declan, Caeco.  Before you leave for your homes, I just wanted to thank you again for helping Toni?” Chris said, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Toni?” Dr. Jensen asked in her crisp, scientist voice, one arm wrapped around Caeco’s waist.

“My goddaughter,” he said, waving a hand back behind him.  “I’m, ah, Chris Gordon.  Just wanted to tell you how extraordinary your kids really are,” he said, smiling.  It was so weird.  The guy could kick serious ass but he was so… ordinary right now. Other than the violet eyes and the Captain America physique.

Caeco nudged me, bringing me back to earth, and I made the introductions. My aunt sucked in a sharp breath when her hand touched his, the kind of breath she takes when she has a sudden vision.  Her eyes widened and she looked shaken, which caused him to pause.  It was awkward until Dr. Jensen made it more so.

“Did you play a role in the rescue, Mr. Gordon?” she demanded suddenly, which caused him to let go of Aunt Ash’s hand and turn toward her, a little startled by her question.

“Yeah, but it was me, my girlfriend and my… er… well, my… dog,” he said scratching his head and glancing at the wolf who was plumped down next to the little girl, clearly on guard duty.

“Your girlfriend and your dog?” Dr. Jensen questioned.

“Mom, for God’s sake, he’s Brutal Asset!” Caeco suddenly interjected.  It was her mother’s turn to take a sharp breath and step half a pace back.

“Er… Brutal Asset?” he asked, frowning and looking between Caeco and her mom.  Caeco and I shared a quick glance.  We already knew that was his AIR codename; how could he not?

“Ah, Lydia?” he asked without looking away from Caeco and her mom.  His voice was at a normal level and for a second, I thought he’d slipped a mental cog.

Lydia appeared at his elbow, kind of arriving between one breath and the next, which startled everyone but Chris.

“Lydia, am I Brutal Asset?” he asked, looking down at the tiny vampire. She couldn’t be even five feet tall, but it was hard to remember how small she was; her attitude projected a much larger size.

“Yes, you are.  It was AIR’s codename for your file,” she said, looking directly at him.  Her tone was matter-of-fact.

“Ah, who are you?” Darci asked, speaking for the first time.

“Lydia Chapman, Deputy,” she answered without adding any detail.

“How is it that you know AIR’s designation for him and you don’t?” Caeco’s mom asked, looking first at Lydia and finishing with Chris.

Lydia visibly tightened, eyes narrowing just slightly, but the effect was an instant reminder that she was, in fact, a deadly vampire who looked slightly put out.

“I don’t remember.  I have some short-term amnesia from a head wound.  Things are coming back in bits and pieces, but I’ve still got gaps,” he answered with a shrug.  His words were easy, but his body language went suddenly awkward, his hands slipping into his pockets and his shoulders rounding forward.

Dr. Jensen looked professionally interested.  Darci and Levi looked uncomfortable.  Aunt Ash, oddly enough, just nodded, her previous alarm gone.  She leaned forward and patted his hand.  “It’ll come back to you, boy-o!  It’ll just take some time,” she said with a pretty smile. 

Lydia mistook her concern for a different type of interest, not knowing my aunt wasn’t interested in males of any flavor eye color.  She started to look alarmed but a jasmine and lilac-scented wind washed over us and the black-haired beauty was standing by Chris’s other shoulder, her electric blue eyes locked on my aunt’s hand where it patted Chris’s.  Aunt Ash met her stare and some invisible, silent message passed between them, one of those mysterious female things that men have no clue about.  Tanya relaxed but didn’t smile.

“Oh, Tanya!  I was just introducing myself to Declan and Caeco’s families, but we got sidetracked by my current lack of recall,” he said.

Her eyes flared a bit and I felt my magic building inside me.  I squashed that reflex, quick.  She was decidedly unhappy, but any kind of escalation would be really bad.  Up close, her appearance was almost shocking. Almost too attractive to be real.

“My Chosen feels bad when he can’t remember something, as if it’s his fault that someone shot him in the head with a high-powered rifle,” she said, one hand touching his shoulder.  “It makes me a little upset.”

She couldn’t stand more than five-five or five-six, her figure lithe and decidedly feminine, yet she exuded danger.  It was a feeling at the base of my skull, a tightness that grabbed my brain and told me to pay attention or possibly die right there.  It wasn’t like she was really going to hurt anyone, but more an intense feeling that she could, she really, really could.

“Well, dear, I think your young man is quite brilliant for rescuing my Declan and Caeco here,” Aunt Ash said with a smile.  Tanya looked at her for a moment then smiled back… and the tightness at the back of my skull relaxed.

“He is, isn’t he,” she said.

A soft snort came from Chris’s other side.  “Let’s not get carried away.  He’s never been a mental giant,” Lydia said.

“Buzzing. I keep hearing this incessant buzzing sound, like a dozen horseflies waiting to bite,” Chris said, waving around his head.  There was a thudding sound; it made almost the same sound as one of Levi’s batons when he smacks me.  Lydia was rubbing her elbow and shaking her head.  Chris hadn’t reacted, but I was pretty sure the little vampire had just wacked him one and it had pretty much bounced off.

Tanya sighed, much like Aunt Ash did when Rory was over and we got goofy.  “So, enough about us.  I’m going to take a guess that Declan comes by his abilities from your family, Ashling?”

It was the most diplomatic way anyone had asked if my aunt was a witch that I had ever heard.

“You would be correct in thinking that, my dear,” Aunt Ash replied.

“And you, ma’am, are obviously in law enforcement, which Chris used to be in,” Tanya said to Darci, then turned smoothly to Levi.  “But you, sir. I didn’t catch your name or what you do for a living?” she asked in her exotic accent.

I’ve seen Levi charm angry mothers, hard-nosed female bureaucrats, and knew he was successful on the dating scene, but I’ve never seen him stutter in front of a beautiful woman before.  It was awesome.

“Ah, I’m ah, Levi… Levi Guildersleeve.  I’m in books,” he said, rushing his words a bit.

She frowned, Chris looked amused, and Lydia simply watched with raised eyebrows.  “You’re in books?  Like, people write about you?  Or you write them yourself?” Tanya asked.

“I, ah, mean I trade in rare books,” he replied, trying to catch himself up.

“He also teaches Krav Maga,” I threw in helpfully, earning myself a quick glare from Levi.

“Krav, huh?  Is the book business dangerous, then, Mr. Guildersleeve?” Chris asked lightly, although he actually looked interested.

“You have no idea,” Levi answered.

“He not only deals in rare books but ones that deal in the supernatural,” I added, getting another glare.  What the Hell, might as well keep digging the hole.

“Really?” Chris’s eyebrows went up as he looked my way, then back to Levi. “Like witches’ grimoires?”

Levi glanced around, a little uncomfortable discussing this in public, but we were standing near a group of black government vehicles on the tarmac of a big airport with no one nearby.  In fact, I hadn’t noticed it before, but literally every one of the government agents, soldiers, and bigwigs in the surrounding area were keeping their distance.  Like on purpose. 

Levi apparently had the same realization as he turned back to Chris; his answer was a bit distracted.  “Ah, yes, on occasion.  I also work with artifacts from time to time.  Things that some consider to be of power.”

“But you’re not a witch or warlock like Declan here?” Chris clarified.

“No, I’m not,” Levi answered.  I was about to add that he did have his own small ability to sense things but stopped when he gave me a warning glance.  Of course, Chris and his two vampires couldn’t help but notice it. 

“Do you, by any chance, read German?” Chris asked after glancing my way curiously.

“In fact, I do,” Levi answered, eyebrows raised.

“Seriously?  Are you seriously thinking what I think you’re thinking?” Lydia asked, rounding on Chris, who nodded and suddenly turned my way. 

“Do you vouch for Mr. Guildersleeve, Declan?”

“Ah, I’m not sure what you mean, but if you’re asking if I trust him, then the answer is yes—with my life,” I answered.  He studied me for a second, his odd eyes looking right through me, then he came to some kind of decision.

“I have a job for you, Mr. Guildersleeve, if you’re interested.  It involves translating an old book.  An incredibly dangerous old book.  I will of course pay your fees for that kind of thing,” he said.

“We will pay your fees, plus a danger bonus,” Tanya said.

“Well, I have some time in the next few weeks, so I’m sure we could work something out.  But when you say dangerous, what do you mean?” Levi asked.  I recognized the signs.  He was hooked.  Anything with old books and you had his attention.  Throw in supernatural and his interest was unshakeable.

“It’s a grimoire, in old German.  The book itself is powerful, and the people that want it have already tried to take it from us several times.  I want to know more about it.”

“There’s rumors a floating that just such a book has surfaced of late, Mr. Gordon.  The chat rooms are abuzzing about it.  That wouldn’t be your book, now would it?” Aunt Ash asked.

“Chat rooms?  Hmm, witches have chat rooms?  Ah, it might well be, Ms. O’Carroll.  It seems to have stirred your people up.  Maybe you should have a look at it as well, for a fee, of course.”

She waved her hand.  “I’ll not be charging to assist the people that saved my boy, Mr. Gordon.  I owe you a debt.”

“Please call me Chris.  And it’s I who owe these two a debt,” he replied, pointing at Caeco and myself.  “But I think it’s past time that you folks got home and moved on with your lives, and we have a tired little girl and her parents to escort home.  Why don’t we contact you in a few days and set something up?” he suggested.

Aunt Ash glanced at Levi, who nodded his agreement.  A young voice yelled, “Mr. Chris!”

The three across from us spun around so fast, it displaced air.  Gone was the easy-going guy, replaced by a coiled killer looking for whatever might threaten the owner of the voice. Somehow, I knew that the woman beside him was just as deadly.  But little Toni was smiling, running toward us at full speed with her giant wolf pacing easily beside her.

Chris and Tanya relaxed, and Lydia moved back the two steps she had instantly placed between herself and her two companions.  She met my curious gaze and shrugged.  “It’s best to give them room,” she explained.

Toni came to us in a rush, running into to her godfather’s arms with a laugh.  The monster canine with her parked himself by Chris’s legs, watching my group with a deadly serious gaze.

“This is my… er… our goddaughter, Toni.  And this furry behemoth is Awasos,” Chris said.  “Toni, these are Declan’s aunts and his friend Levi and Caeco’s mom, Dr. Jensen.”

Toni’s parents joined us, and he had to make all the introductions all over again. Whatever spell had kept everyone else away was now broken, and others joined our growing group.  Mike West was there, with Director Stewart and a whole bunch of Oracle agents.  After a noisy few minutes, the Director suggested that he should fly us back to Vermont.  Chris and Tanya took the opportunity to pull their group away, again explaining that they had a tired little girl and her exhausted parents to get home. 

We boarded another helicopter, and I watched out the window as we lifted off.  Below us, the private corporate jet carrying Chris and company taxied for takeoff. 

I looked across the aisle, where Caeco sat with her mom.  “I don’t know about you, but I could sleep for a week,” I said.

“No, you won’t.  We’ve got a Calc test tomorrow,” she replied, smacking me back to Earth.

Chapter 42- Krista

The diner was just inside the city limits of Concord.  Despite the chrome, the old-fashioned metal plate lights and the deep red seat covers, the place was a sham.  It was less than five years old instead of the forty or so it tried to project.  But the food was good and the coffee was perfect. Smearing the last of the pancakes in the deep puddle of real maple syrup, Krista heaved a tired sigh before popping her loaded fork into her mouth.  

Bone weary, dirty, and disheveled, she wanted nothing more than to get home to her own place, shower, and sleep for a week.  Or two.  But Gillian had insisted on a meeting, so she had picked this place.  Just a couple of blocks from her apartment and it was open even at this God-awful hour.   Really, who was up at five-thirty other than bakers and truckers like the one who had given her a lift this far?

The door at the far end swung open and a middle-aged woman with brown hair came in.  She spotted Krista immediately and started in her direction.  Sipping her coffee, Krista studied the leader of her Circle as she approached.

Taller than average, maybe five-ten without the heeled boot she was currently sporting, she was thin in an angular kind of way, with a long face that had always reminded Krista of a greyhound and brown eyes the same shade as milk chocolate.  She was dressed in black slacks and a red sweater under a cream-colored trench coat.

“You look like hell!” Gillian said by way of greeting, sliding into the booth across from the younger witch.

Krista reached over to the folded paper she had snagged from the rack by the door and pushed it in front of her leader.  Raising one eyebrow, Gillian motioned to the waitress for coffee, then opened the folded paper to look at the cover story.  Death from the skies! Asteroid strikes New Hampshire. The central photo showed a tower of smoke, debris, and fire against the dark of night.

“A cosmic shame.  A warlock such as never been seen before and that had to fall from the skies,” Gillian commented.

Krista held up two fingers on her right hand, touching them one at a time with her left index to make her points.  “One, it didn’t just fall… it was yanked down on top of that complex.  And, two, he’s still alive,” she said, taking another sip of coffee.

Gillian’s eyes lit up with curiosity, but she refrained from comment until the arriving waitress had filled her cup with coffee and taken her order of oatmeal and fruit.  Even after the order was on its way to the kitchen, she paused to pour cream and sugar into the dark brew and stir it thoughtfully.  Finally, she spoke.  “You continue to delight me, Krista.  Let’s start with the second point first.  How do you know?”

“The moment he arrived, I clipped some of his hair.  I’ve kept it with me ever since.  When he broke my circle—” Gillain almost spit out her coffee at this, “—I immediately started to put together a tracking spell.  Once I got back on my feet, that is.”

“He broke your circle?”

“Shattered it from the inside.”

Gillian’s eyes sparkled as she leaned back.  Krista continued, “Anyway, as I was making my tactical retreat, a flight of helicopters flew over me.  He was on one.  I’m certain.  Then the asteroid or meteor or whatever the fuck it was hit and I lost track.  But I know he got out.  Which means he’s likely to be back in Vermont where they found him by now.”

“You, my dear, are worth your weight in gold.  Now tell me about the asteroid.”

“I don’t know much, but if you ever see a little Hispanic girl about this big, with big brown eyes and cute enough to be one of those American Girl Dolls, run, don’t walk, the fuck outta there!”

Gillian just raised her eyebrows and waited for more.

“They took this little girl as bait to draw in some guy.  They had a vamp and a were for medical testing, but they had a major hard-on for this other guy.  So they kidnapped the girl, although I gather they lost the entire kidnap crew which was like, north of twenty people or something.  As soon as I saw the girl, I knew the place was all done, finito, kaput! Most powerful vision I’ve ever had. Then, not long after Wonder Witch broke my circle, I felt something shake the Power.  No idea what it was, except it came from the base.  About ten minutes later, the choppers go by overhead and a couple of minutes after that, the space rock bitch slaps the place into glass,” she said, shaking her head.

“So you think this guy came for the little girl?  And you’re suggesting he’s responsible for the asteroid?”

“Exactly what I’m saying,” Krista replied.

“Any evidence?”

“None.  But as soon as the girl arrived, the base was doomed.  You know me—I don’t have much prophetic power.  This was like a billboard.  Everyone who handled her was marked for death.  Like I said, the kid was there for a couple of hours, during which I was banging around in the damn woods, then I think the guy arrived, went through the place like corn through a goose, and then dropped a damned big rock on it… somehow.  That’s what my gut says.”

Gillian took another sip and gazed down at the paper.  She looked thoughtful.

“Okay, so that’s all kind of beside the point.  The thing we’re interested is that the boy likely survived.”

“He most definitely survived,” Krista said, reaching into her bag and sliding a little ziplock bag across the table.  Inside was a tuft of black hair.

“Shouldn’t you hang onto this for tracking?” Gillian asked, frowning.

“No, I think you have lots of witches that will do just fine.  I don’t want anything to do with Kid Wonder.  Plus, if he sees me, he’ll come out swinging, and I don’t want to be there for that,” Krista replied.

“Wait. You’re scared of him.”

“Absolutely,” Krista replied, looking uncomfortable but determined.  “He broke my fucking circle from inside, Gill!  The first cell I had him in was perfect and I drained him down, made him use up his stored power to keep warm.  Then the stupid director got a hair in his ass and had me move him.  I did a damned fine job jury-rigging that cell, but it just couldn’t be as tight as the first one.  Still, it should have held any witch I’ve ever heard of, but he broke it.  That should tell you something Gill.  He’s fighting outside our weight class.”

“Impossible; you’ve got to be mistaken!  He’s a male!” Gillian replied.

“Don’t matter. He is what he is.  You go head-to-head and he’ll remove yours!”

Gillian tapped her lip with a red fingernail that matched her sweater, thinking it through.  “You’re certain?”

“Dead certain.  I was a pretty big bitch to him, Gill.  If he spots me coming, he’s gonna blow me right off the planet.  The agent that caught him said she got lucky.  Had no idea what he was.  She was trapping the girl—some genetic experiment—and the boy was there.  She thought he was just a do-gooder kid till he blasted three soldiers and an armored Humvee with lightning.  Fried the shit out of all of them.  She pegged him twice with tranks.  If his guard had been up, it might have gone a whole lot different.  His guard’s gonna be up for a while after this, Gill.”

“Well, do you have any suggestions?” Gill demanded.

“Yeah, I do.  Lots of time to think about it while I was clawing my way home.  He’s powerful, but he’s a boy, seventeen.  Been stuck in Vermont his whole life.  His mother, Maeve Irwin, was killed in Boston eleven years ago, so he must be living with his aunt.  He got caught in AIR’s net because he was helping out that girl they wanted. She’s pretty dangerous, but also kind of pretty. Soooo, I think we come at this another way.”

“What are you thinking?” her boss asked.

“I’m thinking it might be time to call the Sisters—the Sisters Erie.  They should be touring the States somewhere.  Maybe they should play Vermont.  How old is the youngest?  Nineteen?”

“Ryanne? Barely.  But I see what you’re thinking and I like it… I like it a lot. Call them.  No, I’ll do it, but I’ll want you to talk to them before they arrive.  Give them the details.  For now, go home, get some rest.  You did well,” Gillian said, scooping up the baggie of hair and smiling a tight smile.

Krista nodded and got to her feet, glad to be out of the immediate plan.  Her self-preservation instinct was in high gear, and she didn’t want to be anywhere near that kid.  He hadn’t seemed a bad sort.  It didn’t seem right to be putting the Sisters Erie on him.  But someone was gonna go after him, and it might as well be her own Circle.  They’d at least take good care of him.

Chapter 43- Declan

Caeco was wrong.  We didn’t have a test the next day.  Or rather we did, but we both missed it.  Our guardians kept us home.  The first I knew of it was when I woke to crows calling to each other in the branches of the Rowan.  The sun was streaming into my container and my clock told me it was past ten a.m.  I threw on sweatpants and a hoody, stuffed my feet into moccasins, and shuffled inside, noting the silver Buick parked outside.

Darci, Levi, Aunt Ash, Dr. Jensen, and Caeco were all sitting around our kitchen table, sipping coffee or eating breakfast.  My aunt came right over to hug me, then pushed me in the general direction of the only open chair.  The place was set with a fork and plate, leaving it up to me to shovel in a couple of over-easy eggs, hash browns, and some crunchy maple bacon. 

Darci set a glass of milk in front of me and I took a long sip after a grateful nod, then looked around the table.  “What’s going on?” I mumbled.

“Debrief,” Caeco said, giving me a smirk as she snagged another two strips of bacon.  Her plate looked well used.

I ever so slightly raised one eyebrow at her choice of terms, and her grin widened. 

“Good, so you’ve heard the whole thing?” I asked.

“Nope, haven’t started yet.  Ashling thought you’d be in right about now,” Darci said.

“No dear, I said, he’ll be in just as soon as the crows have done their jobs.  But I had to call a whole murder of the noisy buggers,” my aunt said with a smile.  “We thought it would be best if you both only told it once.  Caeco, dear, why don’t you start while Declan breaks his fast?  If we don’t get started soon, poor Levi’s like to bust a sprocket.”

So Caeco started her story, beginning with the football game and Miseri.  She didn’t tell the story so much as report it like a soldier or cop would, complete with approximate times, distances in meters, and troop counts.  I saw both Levi and Darci’s eyes widen as they heard her very professional recap.    Caeco’s mom just looked thoughtful, and Aunt Ash nodded.  Darci stopped her at the point where Miseri tranquilized both of us, then turned to me and had me tell my part up till the same.

I didn’t even attempt to sound official, instead opting for the full-on storyteller mode complete with sound effects.  Dr. Jensen frowned at me, but Levi looked amused.  My aunt and surrogate aunt were used to my theatrics and just listened.

Once I caught up to the point where I was drugged unconscious, the adults asked us both some questions. 

“Miseri has an embedded command phrase programmed into your nano tech?” Dr. Jensen asked. 

“Had, Mother.  She had a command,” Caeco clarified.

“But that would be jumping ahead, Dr. Jensen,” I said, in between bites of hash browns.  She looked at me like I was a strange bug to be dissected. 

“So that explains the DEA report that we heard about on the radio.  I was on road patrol in the northern part of the county, so I couldn’t respond.  But it was never DEA, was it?”Darci asked.

“AIR uses other agencies for cover stories,” Dr. Jensen explained.  “They have so strongly infiltrated the federal government over the decades that they can get away with almost anything.”

“Didn’t get away with kidnapping Toni!” I said, pouring more milk.  When I looked up, everyone was staring at me.  “Well, they didn’t!  That Gordon guy and his people pounded them into dust.”

“Caeco, dear, why don’t you continue?” Aunt Ash suggested.

Caeco’s story—or incident report, as it were—picked up from when she woke at the base.  She covered her conversations with Miseri and my arrival in the cell two down from hers.  She told them about the werewolf and the vampire, both of which she’d scented as soon as she woke up.  Then I told my story up till I became her jail neighbor and right to the point where Toni arrived.  My dramatic storytelling became a bit stilted when I told how I learned that my real last name was Irwin and not O’Carroll.  My aunt’s eyes glimmered with tears, but she said nothing as I talked. She moved to the stove and rattled some pans around, but her pinched shoulders and bent head told me it was all a cover. 

Levi glanced her way and cleared his throat.  “So there was a big difference between the first cell and the second?” he asked.

“Huge.  The first one was custom made to contain witches and could be easily modified depending on which elemental affiliations you were trying to contain.  The circle platform had a silver rim with inscribed runes and wards.  Someone spent a lot of time making that place.  But they decided they needed it so the witch, Krista, prepared the other cell.  Did a really good job, too.”

“Not that good,” Dr. Jensen interjected.  When we all looked at her, she continued, “Well, you broke out of it, didn’t you?  So it was weak.”

“It was weaker. But I wouldn’t call it weak.  I would have eventually broke out of the other one, but it would have taken awhile.  Only so much magic in the air.”

“What does that mean?” Caeco asked.

“It means—” my aunt said, turning from the stove and brushing one check as she did, “—that the cell was meant to isolate a witch from the elements that they draw their power from.  In Declan’s case, Earth and Fire.  So they surround him with water and float him on it.  But he has a tiny affinity for Air, which is supposed to be impossible.  But Declan is quite impossible to begin with.”

“I’ll say!” Darci added. 

“Given time, Declan would have recharged enough just from the small air flow into the cell to do something.  However, it wasn’t necessary since he was moved.  Now, what happened after the young girl was brought in?” Aunt Ash asked.

Caeco retold the conversations with Hasta and Guillotine word for word, then the one with Miseri before explaining how she’d overheard the orders Hasta had given Miseri once the base was under attack.  How I had broken the circle, used Earth to unlock my cell and race across to reach through the bars to touch her arm.  How she felt energy flow from that contact through her whole body and how my touch had reprogrammed her nannites.

“I opened the command file and altered it so that the nannites wouldn’t freeze up.  I also removed the backdoor password so they can’t be programed by anyone but Caeco herself,” I added.

“How can Caeco program them?” Dr. Jensen asked.

“How do any of us program ourselves?  We train a habit or behavior consciously until it becomes engrained.  Visualization, repetition, physical training—all will work.  The nannites are bonded to her nervous system. In effect, just extensions.”

“What next?” Levi asked, wanting more of the story.  I told them how Miseri had come into the cell block and how we had fought her.  How she had died.  Caeco was quiet, looking at her hands on the table in front of her.  My aunt patted her on the back .  Caeco looked up, surprised, then took note of Aunt Ash’s sympathetic expression and sharp nod of approval.  My friend nodded once back, acknowledging the silent message, then looked my way.  I decided it was a fine time to continue the story and shuffle on past that painful memory.  Levi interrupted just after I described Chris Gordon’s entrance.

“What do you mean he tore open the doors?  Are you telling me he bent the locks enough to open the door? Hardened steel?”

“No Levi,” Caeco jumped in.  “He literally ripped the entire doorframe clear of the cinderblock walls, then pulled the steel of the barricade apart till it tore.  Like stretching a caramel or taffy.”

“That can’t be right, Caeco.  The physics are rather impossible,” Caeco’s mom said.

“That was kinda my thought as well, Dr. Jensen.  But he did it with a flick of his hand, without moving his body hardly at all.”

“I have read accounts of extremely old vampires accomplishing similar feats.  Maybe not that drastic, but along the same lines.  Some of the authors conjectured that vampires have an ability to harness energy and use it to accomplish physical feats such as clinging to a bare wall or ceiling.  The old ones can do more,” Levi said.  “But he wasn’t a vampire, was he?”

“No, Toni was clear on that, although his hottie girlfriend is some kind of uber-vampire princess or something.  Toni just said that he was her Guardian Angel.”

“I’m thinking that Mr. Gordon was that he ‘tis truly unique among supernaturals, and my suspicion is that young Toni is more accurate than we’re knowing,” Aunt Ash said.

“Like he’s actually her Guardian Angel?” I asked.

“Or at least part of that,” Aunt Ash said with a small smile.

“You mean the Angel part?” Levi blurted.

She held both hands palm up and shrugged, still smiling.  “Just an impression, dear.”

“How could an Angel be here on Earth, in flesh?  It isn’t allowed, is it?” Levi asked.

“I don’t know, dear, but he admitted to dropping a big space rock onto that facility, now didn’t he?” Aunt Ash replied.

“What do you mean?  Not allowed?” Darci asked, looking as confused as I felt.

“There are… agreements, of sorts, between Heaven and Hell, about this sort of thing,” Levi explained.  “They’ve been in place for, well, a really long time.”

“He didn’t act angelic.  More like Liam Neeson from Taken crossed with the Hulk, but less green,” I said.

“You’re thinking that Angels are all wings and halos, but they be nasty blighters if you cross them.  The Bible is full of stories of Angels being terrifically violent,” Aunt Ash said.

“A witch that reads the bible?” Dr. Jensen asked.

“Yes dear, and I went to church every Sunday growing up, too,” my aunt said.

“Back to Gordon.  Ash, what have you heard about a book?” Levi asked, waving away their religious comments.

“There’s been some chatter about an old grimoire being found.  A rather famous tome… German,” she answered.

“You’re not talking about Sorrow are you?” he asked, almost holding his breath.

“That would be the name being bandied about,” she said.

“What’s Sorrow?” Darci asked.

“There was a famous German witch hundreds of years ago.  Very dark magic. Roswitha Maier. Her grimoire was rumored to be unequalled for the number and power of its spells.  She titled it das Buch der Dunkelsten Trauer.  The Book of Darkest Sorrow.  No one ever found it.  If that’s what he has, it’s a monumental find. Unbelievably valuable,” Levi explained.

“But he’s not a witch, right?  Why would he want you to read the book?” Darci asked, glancing at Levi, who shrugged and raised his own eyebrows at Caeco and me.

An idea had been forming in the back of my head, maybe more of a feeling.  Caeco didn’t volunteer any ideas, so I went ahead and spoke my thoughts.  “I think he’s really, really upset with himself that Toni got kidnapped.  I think he wants to do something about that,” I said, then had to explain what I had heard the blonde, Stacia, say and what Caeco had overheard Chris saying to Toni’s parents.

“Well, we’ll see if anything comes of it,” Darci said.

We went over it a few more times before the grilling finally ended. Darci left for work and the other three grownups conferred among themselves, excusing Caeco and I to get out of there.  I offered to show her my ultra-cool guy lair and we slipped out before anyone else could ask any more questions.

Chapter 44 – Declan

Caeco really liked my metal man cave, but the first thing she wondered was why I lived outside the main building.

“Remember the night Miseri snagged us?  The lightning storm?  Well, when I hit puberty, I didn’t have very good control in my sleep.  Storms coming through at night were a… problem.  I kinda almost burned down the restaurant.  Levi installed a bunch of lightning rods, but when this container got rebuilt into the pimped-out crib that you now see, it made sense to move me into it.  If we climbed up top, I could show you the char marks.  The class did a really solid job of grounding it, too.”

She raised both eyebrows and grinned.  “Gives new meaning to the term wet dreams, doesn’t it?” she asked, then laughed at my shocked expression.  I honestly didn’t have an answer for that one and before I could think of one, she stopped her inspection of the room to stand in front of my mom’s photo.  Picking it up, she looked from the picture to me and back again. 

“Definitely got your mother’s eyes,” she noted.  “She looks… kind of fierce?”

“I don’t remember a lot.  But my aunt has told me stories.  She was a force to be reckoned with.”

“Like her son,” she said, smiling.

“I got a long ways to go till I’m in her class,” I answered truthfully.

“Your aunt said you were stronger than your mom?”

“Yeah, in raw strength, but Mom had much more skill and experience by the time she was my age.  She didn’t have to hide as much as I do.  She traveled about Ireland, learning and practicing with all the best and brightest.  They thought of her as kind of a national treasure, so they were all eager to teach her.  Me, I can only learn from my aunt and, as gifted and knowledgeable as she is, it isn’t the same.  Plus, I’m not allowed to do much with my Craft.  I’ll draw attention from any witches in the area, like a lighthouse or something,” I explained. “But after the last few days, I know I gotta change that.  Get better prepared with my spellcraft, shit like that.”

“Carve yourself a super wand or something?” she asked, curious.

“Nah, I don’t use a wand.  Some do, as a focus, but I’ve never needed one.  Mom didn’t, either, and Aunt Ash hardly ever needs to.  Part of the family gift.  But I need an arsenal of offensive and defensive spells that’ll be at my fingertips.”

“Where will you find them?”

I walked across the room, brushing past her, till I got to the big mirror on the end wall.  It was framed, about five feet tall and maybe a foot and a half wide, mounted right to the barnwood paneling.  My dresser stood just to the left of it, and I reached into the little silver change bowl I keep on top.  Mixed in with the pennies, dimes, nickels, and quarters was a little black ring.  I held that up to the upper righthand corner of the mirror frame and waved it till I heard a click.  I pushed the mounted mirror smoothly to the left, revealing a hidden compartment about six inches deep.  The old bound book I took from the upper shelf had Gaelic writing all across the cover.

“My mom’s grimoire.”

“Cool compartment, Mr. Bond,” she said with an approving nod.  “What’s that?” She pointed at the remaining book.

“My grimoire.”

“And that?  Is that your magic wand?” she asked, pointing down at the larger main compartment.

“About as close as I get,” I admitted, picking up the short Remington pump shotgun that was racked in the space.  Pumping the chamber open and leaving it open, I handed it to her.

“My kind of wand,” she said, pumping the action then inspecting the shells attached to the sidesaddle ammo holder mounted on the receiver.  She nodded to herself at the double ought buckshot loads, mounted the gun to her shoulder, and aimed it out the window.

“Nice.  Simple and hard to fuck up,” she commented before handing it back to me.

“The gun and the compartment were Christmas gifts from Levi.  He respects magic, but he insists on backup plans.”

“I like his way of thinking.”

I put everything away, closed and locked the compartment.  Then I grabbed her hand and pulled her after me, out the door, and into the yard.

“Where are we going?”

“I want to introduce you to a friend.”

Still holding her hand, which she didn’t seem to mind, I led her across the yard to the Rowan tree.  On the far side of the tree was a big, flat rock, most of its bulk buried deep in the ground, but the exposed top was big enough for two to sit. The Rowan had grown right alongside it, its thigh-thick trunk making a good back rest.

I sat in my favorite spot and patted the rock next to me.  Caeco was looking a bit confused, but suddenly, light dawned in her eyes.

“The tree?”

“Yup.  Rowans are special to witches, and this one has supported and protected us for my whole life.  I missed Mabon, but I’m sure my aunt, Darci, and Levi didn’t.  Every important Solstice or Equinox, we gather here and renew the tree’s protection.  Kind of giving thanks.  It makes the tree happy.”

“Happy?  You’re kidding with me, right?”

“Ever seen a happy dog or satisfied-looking cat?” 

She nodded, disbelief still plain on her face. “Like Talon when I put food in her bowl.”

“So animals can be happy or sad. Why not plants?”

“You may have been right the other day,” she said.  I arched my eyebrows and made a rolling go on gesture with my hand.  “When you said I was upset at meeting a bigger freak than I am.  You might just qualify after all!”

“Oh?  You’re gonna go there, huh?  Too good to hang out with the freaky Irish warlock kid?”  I said, levitating a triplet of fist-sized granite rocks and floating them over to her. “Sorry, but it’s already been done.”

She watched the rocks floating toward her, giving me a mildly impressed look. Her eyes suddenly widened.  “Oh, it has!  Jessica Connors!  You used to be friends, or better friends!”

The rocks clattered to the ground around my stretched-out feet.  I hadn’t meant to give that away; didn’t realize she would intuit that.

Flicking a hand, I sent the rocks back to the pile they had come from, using my left hand to brush off my shoes.  Then I looked at her and nodded.

“Trey, Jessica, and I were all friends back in the day.  Hung out thick as thieves.  Then the pedophile incident occurred and I was shunned.  Her parents wouldn’t let her hang out with me anymore, and Trey half-convinced her I was a maniac.  But I don’t think she ever really believed I was bad.  She gradually started to talk to me, then became my best customer, even when she didn’t need my skills.  Trey tried to stop her a couple of times, but she must have set him straight ‘cause suddenly, he just ignored it when she spoke to me or asked me to do something. She goes out with Trey and is the de facto leader of the social scene, but refuses to ignore me.  It doesn’t mean I get invited to parties or that her friends aren’t terrified of me, but it’s something.”

“I wondered why the most popular girl in school went out of her way to talk to you.  It didn’t fit the parameters of standard school social dynamics that I was taught about,” Caeco said.  “You know, if anything, it probably elevates her position even more.  Think about it, she’s the only popular kid who doesn’t fear you… actually interacts with you.  That must give her a certain cachet.”

“Ouch!  Here I thought it was because deep down, she still had a shred of decency left that hadn’t been crushed by the pressures of social expectation.”

“Oh, I think she does.  Despite her position, I haven’t observed her being mean to really anyone.  I’m just saying that her relationship with you is sort of self-reinforcing.  Normally, she’d be pressured to ignore you, but the other kids respect her bravery in talking to you.”

“Can we stop the psycho crap?  It’s hard enough to deal with school without tearing apart the few decent parts of my life that’re left.”

“Sorry; just my training acting up.  So… you like her, don’t you?”

I glanced her way.  She was facing the forest but watching me out of the corner of her eye

“I have always liked Jessica as a friend.  Is she pretty?  Yeah.  But like-like.  Maybe once, but I quickly realized it was never going to happen. We’re strictly friend zone, at least as much as we can be.”

“It must be an interesting thing to have such long-term history with a friend,” she noted quietly.

“I’m guessing there weren’t a lot of friends in the lab?”

“Not so much.  When I was younger, there was an instructor who wasn’t too hard on me.  But she got transferred.  I think the lab director suspected she was sympathetic to me.  But I always had my mother.”

And she’s such a warm, fuzzy person—not! I thought to myself.  But what I said was, “Well, that had to be a comfort.”   I must not have been convincing because she looked over at me before picking up a rock, inspecting its color.

“She’s not like your aunt.  She is, after all, a scientist, but I have no doubt that she is devoted to me.  She risked her life many times before and during our escape.  If they had caught her, she would likely have been killed.  Even raising me, she had to keep a distance, but we had our own code.  Regular words that meant something different to us.”

“Like what?” I asked, trying to imagine living in a science lab and being watched every second.

“When my mother says Stay on task, it means stay safe.  When she asks me if my functions are nominal, she’s asking if I’m okay, if anything is bothering me.  If I answered that my cognition seems suboptimal, it means I’m confused or disturbed about something.  She would run some simple mental acuity tests but as she asked me the standard questions, there would be a second, more meaningful conversation going on.  For someone as cerebral as she is, my mother is extremely perceptive.”

To me, it seemed like it must have been like living in a spy novel.  Every action, every word, every glance watched, recorded, and evaluated.  Hiding your feelings and thoughts all day, every day.

“Wow, that must have blown!” I said, completely stunned.  My own life was a cakewalk compared to what she’d gone through.

She shrugged.  “It was all I knew, although when they assigned me to watch television content to acquire social context, it made no sense to me at all.  The things that people said to each other was alien.  To just flat-out say that you liked or loved someone didn’t make sense.  That’s when I began to realize just how different my life was.”

“How did your mother tell you that she loved you?” I asked.

“She would get a very stern look on her face and tell me that failure was not an option, that I was her life’s work, that I must succeed.  But I always knew that the frowns and tone were all cover, that her formal words were code.  It is something she has said to me from my earliest years.”

I couldn’t imagine Aunt Ash or Darci not telling me that they loved me, or me them.  But Caeco was only one of seventeen.  All of Dr. Jensen’s children died but her.  Two had made it full term, but one had died in training.  How did a parent deal with that?  Even a cold, emotionless one like Caeco’s mom.  Maybe she wasn’t the walking computer bank she portrayed?

“Caeco, you’re pretty tough, but I think your mom might be the toughest person I’ve ever met,” I said.

She nodded, her expression one of intense, fierce pride. 

“I couldn’t do what she did.  I can’t hide it in code.  I just have to flat-out tell you that I like you,” I said, looking directly at her, then away.  I lay back and looked up at the tree above me. Beside me, she leaned down, popping into my view rather suddenly.  Her brown eyes locked with mine, and she slowly smiled.

“I want more of my nannites back!” she said, and then her lips were on mine.

Chapter 45 – Declan

Have I mentioned that high school is always there?  That it never changes?  It’s like the cockroach of life—unkillable.  If we had a nuclear war, high school would survive.

We got lots of looks, much more than even before.  A couple of kids almost asked me a question or two when they came to me for a cell phone fix.  Almost.  Candace, Rory, and Jonah asked a ton of questions.  And we answered… mostly.  We were pretty honest about getting kidnapped and about the base, but we kept the rescue bland and never mentioned Chris Gordon or Tanya or any others. The asteroid strike was something we claimed to know nothing about.  

Rory knew I was holding something back, but despite the curiosity in his eyes, he didn’t push.  I think he was a little hurt by it, but he also knew that something immense happened and I wasn’t ready to fully explain it.

There are some things that are just too bizarre to convey to someone who hasn’t experienced it.  The vampires, their young queen, and her boyfriend were definitely those things.  I mean, come on, a giantic were-bear-wolf?  Where would you even begin?

We had missed the Calc exam, but Mr. Crest said we could take a make-up exam after school.  Super.  Actually, it went pretty well.  The problems didn’t look as foreign as usual to me.  The steps I needed to take and the solutions to each step just sort of snapped into place.  In fact, I finished only a few minutes after Caeco.

She was waiting for me in the hall, stepping out from the lockers she had been leaning on and alongside me with a couple of easy steps.  We walked for a few paces before she reached down and took my hand.  I glanced over at her in surprise, not so much at holding my hand, but that it was in public, even if the halls were almost empty.

“I want to feel what it is like to openly display emotion—to demonstrate affection without fear of reprisal,” she said.

“Oh, there could be reprisal—Rory wouldn’t hesitate to make fun of us,” I said with a laugh.

She smiled.  “Somehow, I will bear the agony of his wit.  It beats termination.”

I started to laugh, then remembered that for her, termination meant something much more final than having to clean out your desk at work.

“You know you’re taking to this freedom thing and normal life stuff pretty damn well.  Almost a natural,” I commented.

“Give me another week and I’ll be better at it than you,” she smirked.  I gave her a little electric shock.  She smacked my stomach, slipped one slim arm under my own, pulled on my other wrist, and swiveled her hips into my pelvis, which lifted my feet almost off the floor.  Her point was made.  I was a split-second from being thrown.  She stopped, lowered me back, and gave me a quick kiss on the lips before re-grabbing my hand and continuing our walk as if nothing had happened.  Never boring, this girl.

Within a few days, life mostly got back to normal—or as normal as it could be for a teen warlock who was openly dating a genetically enhanced super soldier.  The rest of the country and even the world were still covering the asteroid strike, but the topic had moved from why it happened to how to prevent it from happening again with bigger rocks.  It became a topic of debate at our lunch table between Rory, Jonah, and Candace.

“Lasers are the way to go.  Vaporize some of the outer surface and the expanding gases will push the rock away,” Jonah said one day.

“Too slow.  Only work when you have more time and distance.  I think they need to repurpose the missile defense system against asteroids,” Rory said.

“Are you kidding?  It’s got a horrible accuracy record against missiles, and you want to rely on it for asteroids?” Candace added, “I think the one that hit wasn’t an accident.  I think it was somehow directed.  If we could figure that out, maybe we could do the opposite.”

“Who could direct an asteroid strike?  That’s crazy,” Jonah said.

“Actually, the probability of exactly the right-sized asteroid striking that old missile silo to completely obliterate it right after Declan and Caeco are pulled out is a rather improbable number. It was supposed to be hardened against nuke strikes, remember,” Rory said, turning to me.  “What do you think, D?”

“Me?  I think you should send Chuck Norris up in space and he can roundhouse kick the asteroids into dust!” I said.

He just looked at me.  “And you’re the one who claims we aren’t serious enough?  What do you think, Caeco?” he said, giving me an exasperated glare.

“I think Declan just gave you the secret formula,” she said with a smile.  Jonah and Candace laughed, but Rory looked at her seriously.  Uh oh!  I know that look!  It was his deep thinking look.  He wasn’t taking this lightly.

Lunch period was almost over, so I began picking up my debris. That triggered the others to do the same.  Rory still looked thoughtful as he sorted his recyclables into the various containers.  Seeing as this is Vermont, our school’s recycling is more complicated than trigonometry.

Rory and I had a study hall next, so we said goodbye to the others and headed into the chaos.  My small but brainy friend remained deep in thought as we walked the halls, not saying a word.  Unusual behavior.

We got to our room and I pulled my English reading book out.  I was actually kind of looking forward to the book, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

“She wasn’t joking,” he said just as I began to read.

“Ah... what?”

“Caeco… she wasn’t joking.”

“About what?” I asked.

“When you said to send Chuck Norris after the asteroids, Caeco said you had just given us the secret formula.  She wasn’t joking.”

“Dude… Chuck Norris?  Seriously?”

“No D.  Don’t be a dick.  You never explained just how you were both rescued by Oracle.  You just sorta shut up about the whole thing, and you’ve never done that to me before.  At first, I was mad, kinda hurt.  But then I started researching everything I could find on the Web.  All the news that happened around that time.  I found a couple of articles about some crazy kidnapping in New York City.  It was in some tabloids, a story about a little girl who got grabbed by kidnappers and a helicopter and some guy and his dog tried to stop it.  Then I found a New Hampshire story about a car theft.  A guy with a giant dog or wolf stole some dude’s truck, which was later found unharmed, further north, not far from where you were.  I started to wonder… what if there was a guy, someone who really is like the Chuck Norris jokes.  What if he was so out there that my friend, who happens to be a witch, doesn’t know how to even begin to tell me about him?  Then your girlfriend, who doesn’t do a whole lotta joking, implied that your suggestion was correct.  What do you think about that?”

Have I mentioned that Rory is scary smart?

“I think you’re wrong… Caeco jokes sometimes!” 

He rolled his eyes at me and looked away, the hurt back on his face.

“What if you were right?” I asked, not wanting to see that expression on him.  He turned, eyebrows raised.  “What if there was a guy… and some others… who made a witch and a super soldier look normal?  Bland even.  What if there was a guy who would scare Chuck Norris?”

He just stared, eyes wide.  I glanced down at my book. “This is a pretty interesting read.  You know the story?”

Confusion flooded his features, but Rory can’t back away from a question about his own knowledge base.

“I haven’t read it, but isn’t about a scientist who takes a serum that turns him into a killer?”

“Yeah, pretty much.  It’s really about the good side and dark side in all of us.  About removing the constraints of morals and society and unleashing the savage primitive inside.”

He realized my deviation from our original conversation had a point.  “Sounds like it might get gruesome?”

“Yeah, at least by Victorian era standards.  But based on what I’ve seen, this book ain’t shit,” I said.

He thought about that, brows furrowed.  “Scary?”

“Helpless. No chance of survival scary on one hand, and thank God he’s on our side on the other.  Like nothing that I or Caeco could do would matter in the slightest.”

“You’re joking?” he demanded, first shocked and then worried.  Rory has seen me practice.  He’s seen me melt rock in my little safe zone under the protective shield of the Rowan tree.  “Are you in danger?”

I nodded.  “But not from this,” I said, throwing the book onto my desk.  “This is on my side.  At least I think it is,” I added. 

“How?”

“They say that no good deed goes unpunished.  They’re full of shit!  Help just one little girl, and all kind of good things can happen.”

“Can you tell me?”

“I’m not sure how.  But I have a feeling that if you happen to be hanging around enough, I won’t have to… you’ll see for yourself.”

“Can’t wait!” he said, eager curiosity flooding his face.

“Hmmm, there’s another famous saying… be careful what you wish for.  I think that one might be accurate,” I said, picking the book back up and opening to where I had left off.

Rory was quiet and thoughtful the rest of the study hall.  Wonders never cease.

Chapter 46- Krista

“Are you sure we can’t just grab the blighter?”

“Yes, Mary.  He’ll just flatten the lot of you,” Krista replied.  Her call was on speakerphone at the other end, and she found it a little annoying, trying to sort out all the voices.

“Gilly told us he was quite brilliant and all, but I don’t know if I’m believing ya?” Gael, the second youngest, said.

“Ladies, he broke out of my circle from the inside without help and after expending some of his reservoir to keep warm,” Krista said.

The four sisters were uncharacteristically quiet for a moment.  Finally Aileen, the oldest, spoke up.  “You think he’ll rise to the bait, do ya?”

“Since when has the bait ever had a problem getting a rise out of males? Eh, Ryanne?”

“But you were telling us that he’s already got a gal?” the youngest, Ryanne, asked.  She seemed unsure, which might be a problem.

“Oh for the love of God, this isn’t rocket science!  You can try to grab him but I’m telling you I wouldn’t do it.  Too much can go wrong.  Just do your thing.  He’s Irish but never been to Ireland.  He’s actually good looking or at least will be, and he’s quite clever.  This isn’t hardship duty, Ryanne.  You’ve seen his picture.”

“He’s no goat,” Ryanne agreed.

“It may take more than a wee bit of time, though,” Aileen noted.

“Yes, but the payday is huge.  You guys’ll be able to buy your own record label!”

“So be it.  Our bloke is putting together the gig.  There’s a nice Irish Pub in Burlington, on Church Street.  We’ve played it before.  How will we get him there?”

“Give me the details when they’re done and I’ll take care of it.  Not a problem,” Krista said.

“Right’o.  We’ll sign off, then,” Aileen said.  Krista said goodbye and hung up, looking over at the bulletin board she’d hung on one wall.  A photo of the boy warlock was pinned dead center.  Maeve and Ashling Irwin were written on a scrap of paper pinned above him.  Photos of him at the school were pinned on either side, the product of a Concord-based private investigator who’d worked for the Circle before.  One shot showed him with the girl warrior and two other boys.  Names were written in next to each of the friends.  She tapped the two boys, one short and pale, the other tall and dark.  These two were the best approach.  Now to set the trap.

Chapter 47- Declan

When I got home from school on Thursday, I found Levi’s Jeep Wrangler parked next to my aunt’s car.  Inside, Levi and Aunt Ash were both at the dining table, sipping tea, serious expressions on both their faces.

“What’s up?” I asked, immediately on edge.

“I got a call from Chris Gordon today.  He wants to bring that book up on Saturday to have us look at it,” Levi said.

“Okay, that’s kind of what we expected, right?” I replied.

“It’s a wee bit fast is all, don’t ye think?” my aunt asked.

“Not really.  I don’t think he’s the kind of guy to procrastinate.  And if it does have something to do with protecting his goddaughter, than he’s gonna put a rush on it,” I said.

“Interesting observation, Declan.  I got a similar impression from his call. He’s anxious,” Levi said, tapping one finger against his chin.

“Listen, I saw how he was during and after the rescue. You’ve never seen anger like that, and some of it is directed at himself.  He wants a spell or something to protect her better.”

“Well, he specifically asked that you and Caeco be on hand if at all possible.  What do you think about that?” Levi asked.

“Well, if there is a spell or something to be done, he might want witches he knows to help do it.  Toni said he doesn’t like witches much. Maybe he’s had a few bad run-ins or something. He also thinks he owes Caeco and me a debt for helping Toni,” I replied with a shrug, helping myself to a big piece of apple crisp from the pan between them.

“I gave him a verbal estimate for the cost, and he didn’t bat an eye.  I even included a hazardous job fee of twenty-five percent, and he said fine,” Levi said.

“Vampires have tuns of bob, Levi.  Compound interest and the like over time, don’t ye know” Aunt Ashling replied.

“He’s not a vampire,” I objected.

“I know, dear, but his girl is,” she replied.  “And I’m of the opinion that she’s a tad bit high up  the Coven ladder, ye see.”

“Well, the other ones all jumped when she was around,” I agreed.  “The one in the cell said she was like a queen or something.”

“She’s a bit more than that,” Levi said. “I’ve been researching my potential clients, and they seem to be a big deal.  When I asked some of my contacts about Tatiana Demidova, they got real quiet until I explained she might be employing me.  Most don’t know a lot about her except that she’s ultra-important.  The one vampire I know told me I should do whatever she wanted and do it fast, but that I would be in no danger from her or her people if I did an honest job.  I asked what would happen if I didn’t do an honest job, and he implied that he would kill me himself.”

“Wow, nice friend!” I said.

“Actually, he kind of is.  He was very matter-of-fact about it, but he was trying to tell me just how big a role she played.”

“What about Chris?” I asked.

“He is her Chosen mate, which is unusual in that vampires almost always Choose other vampires.  My vamp contact got super-serious and told me I should leave him alone.  When I explained that Chris was the one seeking my help, he said to give it.  I got the impression that he was scared of Mr. Gordon.”

I snorted.  Levi and my aunt both raised their eyebrows at me. 

“Smart vampire. You’d have to see him in action to understand,” I said with a shrug, taking a big bite of apple crisp.

‘Don’t ruin yer dinner, boyo,” Aunt Ash said with a smile.  It was kind of a joke because my after-school snack had never slowed down my dinner appetite.

“Oh, speaking of dinner, Rory’s dad won a gift certificate to Kate’s Pub in Burlington.  He gave it to Rory to take some of us out to dinner tomorrow night.  There’s going to be an Irish band playing.  Alright if I go?” I asked.

“Who’s going?” Aunt Ash asked.

“Rory, Johah, and myself.  Caeco and her mom are looking for a new house to rent, now that Dr. Jensen’s on retainer to Oracle.  Candace has some big club meeting, so it’s just the boys.”

“I don’t see why not, but mind the college bucks!  Keep yer head down,” she replied after a glance at Levi.

Chapter 48- Declan

School couldn’t get done fast enough.  We piled into the Beast and headed straight from school to Burlington.  It’s a busy little city almost all the time, but the weekends are even worse, so we wanted to get good parking.  We ended up in a parking garage a block from Church Street.  If you’ve never been there, Church Street is a pedestrian-only road in downtown, running perpendicular to Main Street.  Three blocks long, it’s lined with shops and restaurants and always crowded with people, particularly college kids from the three local schools.  Because most of the shops sell clothes or jewelry, it’s a popular hangout for girls in particular.  It’s fun for us for several reasons.  First, it’s not Castlebury!  Second, no one know us, or I should say me, so they don’t treat us funny. And third, did I mention the pretty college girls?  It’s not like we have a shot or anything, but it’s fun to girl watch.  I mean, come on, we’re three dorky high school kids, but at least nobody runs away screaming.

Jonah wanted to shop for some clothes at Urban Outfitter, so we hit that first.  My tallest friend really likes clothes and is usually pretty well-dressed.  Like I may have mentioned, Jonah could fit in with a much more popular crowd than us, but he stuck with us for some reason.

Not finding what he was after, we headed into the mall entrance and let him work his way through American Eagle, Hollister, and Abercrombie & Fitch.  Finally, at quarter of six, with a couple of bags clutched in his hand, he was ready to head to Katie’s Pub. 

The band was supposed to start at seven, and we wanted a good table.  I hadn’t told my aunt, but the band was Sisters Eire, an all-girl band of four actual sisters from Ireland who toured all across America playing festivals and pubs.  The website photos looked attractive, and both Jonah and Rory were excited.  Me, too, a bit, although I was mostly interested in the fact that they were Irish.

“Oh, that’s just because you’ve got a girlfriend now!” Rory said when I said as much.

“Hey, I never mind looking at pretty girls, but they’re all a lot older than us,” I said.

“Maybe the older ones, but the youngest is like eighteen or nineteen and she’s the best-looking one!” he replied.

“Doesn’t matter how old they are. None of them are immune to the Patel Charm,” Jonah added.

“The word you’re looking for is curse… the Patel Curse.  Sends girls running!” Rory shot back, although truth be told, Jonah actually did do pretty well on the girlfriend scene.

“No guys, that’s me,” I said.

“Nah, not here.  And not with Caeco,” Jonah said as we entered Katie’s.

The inside was all dark wood and Old World charm, with Celtic symbols and Gaelic phrases written on the walls up high near the ceiling.  Katie was from Ireland and made it a habit to bring over a few young Irish bartenders and waitstaff to work the place, in addition to the local staff.  It added to the charm to hear the accents, and I think she liked giving her countrymen a chance to visit the States.

Rory showed the attractive, college-age hostess his gift certificate and her eyes lit up.

“Oh, so you’re the winners?” she said, giving us a friendly smile and a quick once over.  “Katie has a special table for you.  Right this way.”

Rory puffed up at her words and gave us a superior look, which we immediately laughed at.  The hostess led us deeper into the bar to a heavy wood table near the raised area I assumed would hold the band.  She handed around menus before leaving.

Rory practically bounced in his seat.  “This is going to be awesome!  The band is practically in our faces!”

I had to agree.  The table was set almost dead in front of the band area, giving us the best seats in the house. 

A waiter appeared, wiping his hands on a towel.  “I’m Sean, and I’ll be lookin’ after ye tonite.  Now, what’ll you lads be drinking?  Jamesons?  Guiness all around?”

He was joking, in an easygoing way, but Rory didn’t catch it.  “Oh, we’re not old enough to drink.”

Sean smiled and laughed.  “I was only coddin’ ya.”

Both of my companions looked at me to translate.

“He was joking with you, Rory.”

Our waiter nodded and looked at me closer.  “Ye’ve the look about ya.  Where’re yur people from?”

“Tipperary,” I said.

He nodded again.  “Good hurlers.  You’re gonna like the band.  Beoirs, every one!  Now, what can I get ya?”

We all ordered sodas, then studied the menus.

“What’s that he called the band?” Jonah asked me.

“It’s a slang word for pretty girl,” I said.

“Perfect!  I just hope they don’t faint from being so close to me,” he said with a smirk.

Rory leaned closed to him and sniffed.  “Nah, you hardly smell bad at all.”

We were halfway through our dinners and Sean was just refilling our drinks when a blonde and a redhead carrying instrument cases walked straight to the band platform.  The blonde was mid-twenties and wearing black jeans, a sleeveless vest, and a leather cap; the redhead, whose hair was too bright to be natural, was in skintight leather pants and a black t-shirt with some band name and tour dates written on it in white. 

The redhead spotted Sean and turned to face him, her eyes flicking over us as she did.  “Eh, Sean, you still arse-boxing around this place?” she asked with a grin.

“Hey, Gael,” he said, stopping to chat with the two as he took our empties to the kitchen.

“The redhead, Gael, is the fiddle player.  The blonde is Aileen, the oldest, and she plays the keyboards,” Rory said.  Jonah and I exchanged a glance, before turning back to him.  “What?  So I stalked them a bit,” he said, grabbing a French fry from his plate before looking back at the two band members.

“Rory, stop staring.  You’re being creepy,” Jonah admonished him.  I nodded and took a bit of my mashed potatoes.

Two more people walked past our table, and I glanced up.  Damn!

The first girl was a pleasant-looking brunette in a puffy white shirt and regular blue jeans, but the one following her was traffic stopping.  Black hair, brown leather jacket, and black shorts with knee-high boots, lugging a couple of instrument cases.  She was laughing at something her sister had just said when she glanced our way and met my gaze with green eyes that sparkled with amusement.  When she made it to her sisters, she plunked down her burdens.  “I’m banjaxed!” she said in a loud, clear, lilting voice that was cute as hell.

“Who’s staring now, Mr. McCreepy?” Rory asked.

I jerked my gaze away from the quartet of women and felt my face flush. 

“Damn!” Jonah said, still staring. 

“Yeah!” I agreed, taking a drink of my soda.

“Kinda glad Caeco’s not with us.  You’d probably get your arm broke for staring at her like that,” Rory teased.

“I’m not staring!” I protested, carefully not looking at the band. 

Rory was grinning ear to ear.  “That’s Ryanne… the youngest!” he said, leaning over to whisper.  The four girls headed back out the side door they’d entered through, likely to get more of their gear.

I tried to ignore the impulse to look up when they came back through a second time, but finally caved in and risked a glimpse.  Got busted instantly.  Ryanne was facing our way and caught my eye.  She flashed a brilliant smile, then brushed her straight hair behind one ear and went back to unpacking the drum set. 

“Honestly Ry, do you have to keep adding to the damned thing?” a voice said from just behind me. I turned to see the redhead, Gael, lugging two more round cases.  She, too, glanced at our table but instead of smiling, she spoke.  “How about you and I switch, eh?  I’ll just dig into that bangers and mash and you can lug these bleeding drums,” she said to me with a wink.  Her accent was fantastic and she, too, had bright green eyes.

“Hey now, Gael, leave off flirting with the bobs and get me drums over here,” Ryanne said, smiling again.  I looked behind us to see who the bobs were, but the next table over was a family of four.

“What’s a bob?” Jonah asked, quietly.

“A guy,” I answered.  Actually, I thought it might be a good-looking guy, but my knowledge of slang was third-rate at best.

A middle-aged woman came over to the band and greeted them in a familiar manner.  Probably the owner, Katie herself.

Then she approached us, a big smile of greeting on her face. “Welcome to me pub, lads.  So you’re the big winners of our contest?”

“I am, ma’am.  These guys are my guests,” Rory responded, puffing up like a blowfish.

“Oh, ye are, are ye?  Watch this one, girls; he’s got the luck, he does!” she said to the band as she shook his hand.

“We thought they looked deadly,” Gael commented.

Rory looked at me, a quick question on his face.

“She means we looked very cool,” I said.  “She’s just messing with us.”

“Oh, so this one has the luck of the Irish but you have the look of the Irish,” Katie stated.

“Yes, ma’am.  My mom was from County Tipperary,” I said.

“Was?”

“She, ah, passed away some years ago,” I replied.

“Sorry to hear that…” she waited.

“Ah, Declan, ma’am.  This is Rory, and that’s Jonah,” I said.

“Well, lads, settle in ‘cause you’re in for a helluva treat!” she said and gave the band a few more words before disappeared out front.

The keyboard was up, along with much of the sound equipment, and three of the sisters were unpacking their instruments while Ryanne continued to piece together the drum set.

The rest of the bar was filling up and when the family behind us left, a group of college-age guys moved to their table with pint glasses and pitchers of beer.  They were laughing and goofing while they watched the band with interested eyes.

Her drums set up,  Ryanne stood aside as her other sister, the one in the dress, brought in a microphone and stand and wove the wires through the few gaps left in the drum set.  Taking advantage of the pause, Ryanne took off her leather jacket, revealing a sleeveless gray top that was more than a little clingy.

The boys at the table behind us hooted and whistled.  Ryanne just laughed and waved a finger at them, grinning and flipping her hair back with a practiced flick.  Gael spoke to her and she moved easily through the band gear to her sister’s side.

“Damn, she’s hot!” one of the guys behind me said.  I glanced their way, annoyed, and spotted the speaker.  He was a decent-sized guy, maybe a few inches shorter than my six-two, but built broader and thicker.  Black hair, beard, and dark eyes.  His companions were all athletic looking, maybe all part of the same sports team or something.

I honestly don’t know why I was so annoyed.  I didn’t know the band, the kid was right—she was certainly hot—and more importantly, she was obviously comfortable on a stage in front of admiring guys.  Plus I had my own girlfriend, so why was I bothered?

Not able to figure it out, I tried to let it go and talk with the guys.

“It’s like thirty degrees outside,” Jonah commented.  “Why would she dress like that?  Wouldn’t she be cold?”

I analyzed his comments while studying the black-haired girl.  She was maybe five-eight, thin, but with nice curves.  Her skin was very pale and she had a few freckles across her high cheekbones.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here, but I think the answer to your question will be obvious when they start to play,” I said.

Which they did ten minutes later, and I was right.  Ryanne was their lead singer and drummer, yet she was never still, bouncing, nodding, and dancing along to everything they played. 

“Hello Burlington!” she greeted the crowd, which was now quite large and evenly mixed between young and middle-aged.  The bar greeted her loudly, causing her to laugh and flip her hair.  Her sisters were still finishing their last few adjustments and by their relaxed manner must have been comfortable leaving the opening comments to their younger sister.

“We’re Sisters Eire, and we want to thank you all fer coming out on a culd October night! This is likely our last performance here in the States, as it jost gets too damned culd here.  Honestly, how do you stand it?” she said with a smile and a mock shiver.  “Now, ye dinna come out to listen to me chatter on, now did ye?  So let’s kick it off,” she said with a laugh. Her foot started a beat with her foot pedal.  “This first song is about a strong woman, an Irish lass, fighting an arranged marriage such as used to be the thing in Ireland.  It’s a fun song, if a wee bit dark at the end.  It’s called ‘Step it Out Mary!’”

Her sisters had moved up and immediately kicked off a fast-paced song that had the whole bar bouncing along to the beat.  Ryanne sang in a clean, clear voice with her accent flowing through the words, dancing and bouncing to the beat.  She easily managed to captivate virtually everyone in the pub. 

She sat at her drums for the next song.  “We’ve borrowed this song from our friends, Gaelic Storm,” she said, then started a song called “Green eyes, Red hair,” and her green-eyed, red-haired sister took front and center, fiddling and dancing while making eye contact with almost every guy in the room.  The guys behind me were pounding the floor with their feet, totally enthralled by her swiveling hips and legs, which, to be fair, were pretty mesmerizing.

After that, they played a couple of ballads, slower and haunting.  I’ve spent much of my life obsessed with Ireland.  I’ve stalked the country through Google Earth, read everything, watched every movie, even studied other people’s vacation photos and videos on trip review sites.  But listening to Ryanne sing is as close to Eerie as I’ve ever felt.  I could almost feel the damp air near the ocean, smell the peat smoke in the air, see the vivid, vivid green of the countryside.

“Okay, then.  I know what ‘cher all thinking.  Way to dampen the mood girls, way to… how would you say it here?  Harsh your mellows?” she said with a laugh and got one from the crowd. “Well, then let’s remember that we’re only here once, and what do ye say we get this party restarted?”  The crowd roared their approval.  “So make sure yer glasses are full.  Poor old Katie can’t make a living if ye don’t keep drinking , now can she?  So grab a pint and let’s go.  I’d join ye, but your crazy drinking laws make no sense at all, now do they?  I mean you can send a lad or lass off to war at eighteen, but they can’t have a sip before they go?  That’s just cruel, it is!” she said, then laughed and started a new beat.  “Okay, enough of me soapbox!  Let’s have some fun!”

“Hold on a moment, would you Ry?” Gael, the redhead said.  “You might be too young, but the rest of us can have a sip or two,” she said, demonstrating by taking a long drink from her pint of what had to be Guinness.  The two oldest followed suit, all holding up their glasses first to the crowd, then to their youngest sister, who looked on in mock dismay and pain.  After a moment, she detached her cordless mike and walked straight to our table, straight to me.  She leaned down and grabbed my full glass of water and took a drink before making a face.  Then she held the glass up to the crowd. “Aww, do you know how much whiskey it would take to drink that much water?” she said, getting a big laugh from the crowd.  Then she smiled at me full on, patted my shoulder, and strolled back to the stage, which gave all the guys a great view.  Someone at the table behind me wolf whistled, and she flipped back around with a look of disdain.  “Don’t try and flatter me now.  Me blood’s too alcohol starved for it,ye know,” she said, then jumped back on stage with a smile and a laugh.

The next three songs were all funny drinking songs, full of stories of drunken men, drunken women, even a drunk donkey, and the women played the crowd like the experts that they were.  In between songs, they all spoke up, explaining how four sisters grew up in a music-filled family and how each got their instrument.

“Oh yeah! And when you’re fourth and last, all you get is the drums!” Ryanne said at one point, again going for a laugh.  The crowd loved them—and her especially.  By the looks on Rory and Jonah’s faces, they felt like I did.  The band had energy, and four attractive girls who could play the crap out of their instruments were bound to be popular, but it was Ryanne who the crowd loved the most.  Her sister Gael had sex appeal too, with her curvier body and long red hair, but it was the sheer energy and passion of Ryanne that mesmerized the audience.  It didn’t hurt that she was hot as hell, too.

Finally, after two long sets, it was over and the audience applauded and cheered, then finally began to thin out and the band started to break down their gear. 

I was trying to be subtle, trying not to get caught glancing at Ryanne, but she flat-out busted me, catching my gaze almost as soon as I looked her way.  She flashed a big smile. “So what did ye think of us?”

“I think you’re amazing,” I said.  Rory and Jonah stopped their conversation about the search for the Higgs boson particle to watch my exchange.

“But what of the rest of us?” Gael asked, a mischievous grin on her face.

My face flushed immediately.  “That’s what I meant.  I think your whole band is amazing,” I clarified.  Tried to clarify. 

“Un huh,” Gael said, unconvinced.

“Oh don’t mind her, she’s always a crank after a show.  Old and tired, don’t ye know!” Ryanne said to her sister with a smirk.

Gael laughed and made a face back at her, then winked at me and continued to pack away her fiddle.

“Ry, dear, if you could stop chatting up the lads and run to the van for me folio, it’d be a help?” Aileen called to the young drummer.

“Ah, the grand duties of a star vocalist,” Ryanne said in a self-mocking tone and headed out the side door of the bar.

“Ah dude, way to go!  That one likes you!” Jonah said.

“Nah, she’s just being nice,” I replied, wondering if he was right.

“Ah, D?  What about Caeco?” Rory asked.

I think my face went red again.  I had kind of forgot about her a bit.  Caught up in the accents and the show.

“What about Caeco?  I’m just talking with a band member.  It’s not even flirting, really.”

“Hmm,” Rory said.

“Aw, leave him alone.  Girls hardly talk to him in our school.  It’s good for him,” Jonah said.  Our table was quiet for a moment before Rory got up to make sure our bill was covered by the gift certificate.  Jonah left for the bathroom, and I sat sipping the last of my soda.

Ryanne appeared with a zipped portfolio in her hand and gave it to her oldest sister.  Before she could completely turn around, one of the guys from the table behind us was there.  It was the bearded guy I had noted before.  She smiled at him but her expression went a bit stiff when he put his hand on her arm as he talked to her.  She laughed and touched his hand, even as she declined whatever he was asking.  Pointing back at the stage and the pile of instruments and gear, she put on an expression of dismay, then laughed and disengaged herself from his hand, moving back to gather up more cases of drum equipment.  He watched her with a dark look, then moved unsteadily to the corner of the bar, where he watched her some more.  Arms full of drum equipment, Ryanne headed back out the side door and after a moment, black beard followed her.  Neither of my friends were back, so after a moment, I gave into the impulse to follow them and make sure she was alright.  It was probably nothing, but the twisted feeling in my stomach said otherwise.

Chapter 49 -- Declan

Outside the door, I found myself in a dark parking area with a few cars, likely belonging to employees, and a beat-up blue industrial van with its rear cargo doors open.  At first, I didn’t see anyone, but then I heard two voices, one male and angry, the other lilting, scared, and pleading, coming from the other side of the van.

I was around the side in a heartbeat, finding Ryanne backed against the side of her own vehicle the black- bearded guy holding her shoulders and pressing himself against her.  She glanced my way, and I saw a glint of fear in her eyes.  That was all it took.

“Hey, leave her the fuck alone!” I said, continuing to move closer.  In hindsight, it wasn’t the best approach for de-escalating a tense situation, but any situation involving men forcing themselves on women tends to flip my switch.  Sue me.

“Fuck off, shithead, before I rip your head off…” he started, one hand pointing my way. He was interrupted by my right hand, which knocked his arm aside while my left slid around her left shoulder and pulled her away from him and behind me.  Neither move was what I would call gentle; that’s not how I’ve been trained.

Anger flared in his eyes, but my forward momentum had never slowed and after knocking aside his left hand, my right palm slammed into the side of his temple, then moved past his face. My forearm came back hard against the right side of his throat, both strikes hard enough to stun him.  Then my right hand came to rest on his right shoulder while my left arm under wrapped his right forearm.  Controlling his upper body with my leveraged position, I next introduced my right knee to his gut.  Lucky for him, my height gave me that option or he would have been talking with a high-pitched voice for a week.

His torso jackknifed forward and I pressed one hand on the back of his neck, shoving him down and around so that he collapsed on his ass with his back to me and his right arm held up over his head, clamped by my left arm.

I pressed my knees against his back and pulled his arm back a bit, hyperextending his shoulder till he grunted in pain.

“Listen, dickhead.  No means no!”

“Hey, you fuck!” a new voice screamed.  I looked up to see five of his friends coming around the side of the bar.  Numbers and odds ran through my head.

I’ve done a lot of stress testing against multiple attackers, all of us wearing full padding.  It’s violent and scary, and that’s just practice.  I’ve never done if for real, and never with someone to protect.  I reacted.

Stepping to my right, I threw Beard Boy’s arm down hard to the ground, which made him fall backward fast enough to bump his head.  Then I kneeled down with my knee just on his throat and brought my right hand up and began to draw power from around me.  From the earth, the air, even the body heat of the idiots approaching—I let it all flow into me, filling me till the very air crackled with potential.  Lights flickered behind me and went out.

“Keep coming, assholes, and I’ll start saving your parents lots of tuition!” I said, then mentally cringed at the stupidity of what I had just said… what I just did.  Part of me knew this was exactly what my aunt had warned against.  Part didn’t care.  I was tired of hiding, tired of not fighting back.  Fuck it—it was time to show the world who I really was.

They stopped: some instinct, maybe, or just the sight of my knee on their buddy’s throat.

“Hey now, what’s all this?” a new voice asked, a female voice.  My peripheral vision showed three figures spilling out of the pub’s side door.  Nobody spoke; the five meatheads stayed frozen, looking from me to the newcomers.

I chanced a glance at the pub door, then sucked a sharp breath of cold air.  Ryanne’s sisters stood there, and I could clearly see the power they had gathered to themselves.

I jumped up and backed away—away from the guy on the ground, away from Ryanne, and away from her sisters.

Everyone was watching me until the redhead moved to the kid on the ground and gave him a hand up, glancing at me but keeping a smile plastered on her face as she spoke to them all.  I couldn’t hear her words—her voice was pitched low—but the boys all stopped looking my way and focused on her.  Her words rang with Craft, with tones and pitches that regular humans would never hear.  Laughing, she wrapped her arms around the bearded kid and one of his friends and began leading the whole bunch around the corner and back out toward Church Street, leaving her three sisters watching me, two of them with power gathered.

“You’re witches!” I said, breathing faster… faster than I had during the fight.

“As are you,” Aileen said, her voice even and calm, yet determined.

I looked at Ryanne and noticed she was the only one without a spell ready to cast.  She appeared a little shocked and maybe frustrated or even angry.

“You didn’t need my help.  You never needed my help!” I stated the obvious.  She shook her head but didn’t answer.  “But you were afraid?”

“Listen, lad.  Power down a might bit before ye explode,” Aileen suggested, still holding some spell ready but holding both hands like she was gentling a horse.

I backed away further.  “Yeah, no.  I’m good like this.  I’m just gonna get my friends and get out of here.”

Footsteps from the side street announced Gael’s appearance. She moved quickly, but slowed when she saw me.  She glanced from me to her sisters.  “What’s the craic?”

“Well, it appears to be a night of discoveries, now don’t it,” Aileen said, still watching me.  “We dinna know there were any of our own kind about, especially not one such as yourself… eh... what do I call you, lad?”

“Just goodbye will do,” I answered, circling out toward the street that Gael had just come down.

“Declan, his name is Declan,” Ryanne said, speaking for the first time.

“How did you know that?” I demanded, stopping in place while the hair on the back of my neck rose.  How did she know my name?

She put her hands on her hips and glared at me with pressed lips.  “I overheard you introduce yerself to Katie, so don’t go getting all doolally on us.  I dinna ask for your help!”

“Yeah, I got that.  Just because you weren’t doing a thing to protect yourself and you looked scared out of your mind, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.  Believe me when I say I’m sorry I ever came out here.  Now I’ll just be collecting my friends and be on my way,” I said, unable to bite back the sarcastic tone.

“Here now, hang on a bit,” Aileen said.  “Let’s leave off on the friends for a moment.”

“I will get my friends!” I said, pulling even more power.  The two streetlights nearest us went out.

“Whoa, now!  Just calm down a bit.  She wasn’t trying to threaten your buds, like.  She’s just trying to keep you from blasting to bits, ye see,” Ryanne said, moving herself between me and her sisters.  She still hadn’t drawn an ounce of power.

“I can hold this all night,” I said, regretting the words as soon as I said them.

“Maybe you can and maybe you can’t.  But there’s no need at all. Right, girls?” she asked over her shoulder.

Her sisters looked at each other, nodded and straightened up, releasing their spells, letting them flow into the surroundings.

Ryanne nodded without turning around, sensing the moment the power was gone.  “See there, not a thing to worry ye.  So what say ye drop some of that awful load yer carrying?” she asked, tilting her head to one side slightly as she waited for my answer.

For a moment, I just stood there, the cold wind coming off Lake Champlain whistling past me, while the air around me crackled with snapping blue arcs.  Then I moved sideways four feet and placed one hand on a green metal dumpster, still watching the sister witches.  I dumped some of my gathered energy into the metal, the force of it making the whole thing jump an inch off the ground before it settled back down.  I held back a bunch in case things went south… further south.

All four were looking at me with wide eyes, but they recovered quickly.

“There now.  That’s got to be better now, eh?” Ryanne asked, smiling slightly.

“Look, I’m sorry I interfered. I don’t want anything from you and certainly don’t want any trouble.  Let me just grab my friends and you won’t see me again.  Promise!” I said, thinking of how much I had screwed up.  One night out and I got in a fight and revealed my nature to four Irish witches.  Couldn’t have done much worse.

“There’s no need to go rushing off.  We don’t bite, well, except for Gael,” Aileen said, sounding reasonable… too reasonable.

I continued my move to the side street, which was College Street, I think, pulling my smartphone as I went, eyes on the sisters.  They looked bewildered, except for Ryanne, who had folded her arms across her chest and looked a bit angry.  Glancing at my phone, I saw Rory’s number already up and as soon as I thought to dial it, it did it on its own.  Switched to speaker mode, as well.

“Hey, where are you?” my friend’s voice asked.

“Grab Tree and meet me out front—now!  We’re outta here!”

He didn’t argue or even ask questions.  He’s pretty good that way.  “Right. See you out front.”

The sisters never moved even though Ryanne must have been getting cold by this time, dressed as lightly as she was.  As I walked underneath the streetlights, her green eyes glittered each time one came on—emeralds set in white porcelain, framed by black hair.

Two figures, one short and slight, the other ridiculously tall, waited for me out front with puzzled expressions. 

“I’ll explain in the Beast.  Let’s get out of here quick.”

Chapter 50 – Ryanne

“Well, that’s completely bolloxed, now isn’t it?” Ryanne asked.

“Tell us what happened,” Aileen directed, pulling her inside the warmth of the pub but hanging near the door.

Ryanne explained about the too-aggressive male fan and Declan’s rescue, highlighting his skillful use of violence.

“Well, little sister, I’m thinking you said it right,” Gael commented.

“Nah, it actually could not have gone any better,” Mary said.  The others looked at her in surprise.  There was no sarcasm in her tone, and Ryanne couldn’t remember an occasion when her quietest sister had ever used any.  When she decided to speak, which was rarely, the others all paid close attention.

“Explain,” Aileen said.

“The gig went perfect, what with the lads right front and center and whatnot.  That boy couldn’t take his eyes off you Ry, not even when Gael danced with her fiddle.  Then he follows you out to protect you from an attacker. Brilliant! Ye all remember the story that his own mum was as much as raped by that Croat fella, right?  Do ye think he’s one to let any raping go by, do ye?  And you, Ry, not using magic for fear of sending him running was brilliant, as well.  So you dinna expect him and that’s why you were afraid… scared you’d screwed the whole show.  But then the lad sees your fear and smashes the gobshite and is ready to lay waste to whole lot of them.  Now he knows we’re witches, which is just perfect.  If he’d found out later, he’d be thinking we were pulling one on him, but this a-way he’s thinking we’re just naturally cautious like.  It’s perfect!”

“Hmm, ye might be dead on, Mary,” Aileen said, looking thoughtful.

“Are you kidding?  He looked ready to go to war with the lot of us.  Did you see how much power he was holding, and him not so much as breaking a sweat!” Ryanne countered, still not convinced.

“Well, of course, dear.  Krista as much as told us he was on guard.  Here he discovers four Irish witches in his own backyard.  He’d be daft not to be wary.  But we dinna threaten him, we let him go his own way.  It’s perfect, I tell ye.  He’ll have you stuck in his mind, Ry!” Mary said.

“It’s a good damned thing we dinna get in his way!  Did you ever feel so much power?  Look at that handprint on the metal, will ye?” Gael said, pointing at the dumpster.

“When he first started to draw, it was like there was nothing left if I had wanted some for myself,” Ryanne noted.

“Aye, and here I was thinking Krista had gone a bit soft.  If anything, I think she went light on the tellin of it,” Aileen said. 

“So where does it leave us?” Gael asked.

“It leaves us looking for an excuse to show up at his home.  And that, girls, will be a bit dodgy.  If you think he’s skittish, then his aunt will be a much tougher one to convince.  So we’ll take our time.  Think it through, give him a day to think on sweet Ryanne and such,” Aileen said, ruffling her little sister’s black hair.

“He’s something, isn’t he?” Ryanne asked, a gleam in her eyes.

“Oh, he’s all that and more!” Gael agreed a little enviously as they all headed back to their band equipment.

Chapter 51- Declan

I got home later than I had planned and the light in my aunt’s bedroom window went out as soon as I pulled in, so I left off telling her about my run-in with the Sisters.  Instead, I lay awake for hours, wondering how badly I had screwed up.  Finally falling asleep somewhere between three and four, I slept like the dead till the morning sun on my face woke me.  Or maybe it was the feeling of dread that snapped me awake.  Like a crypt full of rotten corpses had just been opened.

Outside my metal pod, Levi’s Jeep was parked next to a sleek Mercedes coupe that I had never laid eyes on before.  Nobody was in the living area, so I showered quickly and threw on jeans, t-shirt, and a hoody, all straight from the clean pile in the laundry area.  There were fresh muffins on a plate awaiting my attention, so as I crammed my feet into work boots, I gobbled three of them, slathered with jam and honey.  Then I went into the restaurant looking for my aunt and Levi, pulled toward the dining room.

I found them in the banquet room, which we use for private parties, and the local Lion’s club uses it for their weekly lunch meetings (Wednesdays, at noon). It holds about six of the big round tables, each capable of holding eight people.   Levi, my aunt, and two others—Chris Gordon and his sleepy-looking, but still drop-dead beautiful girlfriend—were at the centermost table.  A large, white plastic bucket full of water sat open on the floor next to the table they were using and a wet plastic bag lay empty on a kitchen dish towel, forgotten as they all watched Levi page gingerly through an ancient-looking book that looked like it was warping the very light around it to my Sight.  A pot of coffee sat on the table alongside a set of mugs.

“Declan, good to see you again,” Chris said, standing and moving to me before I could take a second step into the room.  His grace of movement made me feel uneven and cloddish. 

At the table, Tanya reached one slim hand to shake mine and I found myself rushing to keep her from standing.  She looked tired. 

“Declan, my apologies.  I am not what you would call a morning person,” she said, her blue eyes pinning me in place. 

“Ah, me either, ma’am,” I replied, shocked all over again at her up-close impact.

She frowned.  “You will call me Tanya, no?”

“Yes ma’am, I mean, yes Tanya.”

It was Chris’s turn to frown.  “Odd, I just had déjà vu,” he said.  “Although in my case, it likely means I’m remembering something real.”

“When we met, I said something similar, my love,” the woman who I had trouble remembering was a vampire said with a sad smile.

“Oh, that must be it,” he said awkwardly.  He didn’t remember meeting her?  I thought, except it must have shown on my face as he went on to explain.

“As I mentioned before, I got shot in the head.  A big chunk of my recent memories got knocked out.  Bits and pieces are coming back, but it’s choppy,” he said with a shrug.  “I’m working on it.”

The tiredness had disappeared from Tanya’s face as she closely watched her boyfriend.  Her expression was a mixture of fierce protectiveness and pride, with a hint of sadness.

I glanced around the floor space, looking for a small horse.

Chris was watching me with a bemused look.  “We left ‘Sos on guard duty,” he said.

“Gotcha,” I said, thinking of a giant wolf watching over a small dark-haired girl.

“Ye got in late last night, Declan,” my aunt said from Levi’s side.  For his part, my instructor merely raised one hand in greeting, barely looking up from the book he was reading.  An open notebook lay next to his right hand, the page filled with neatly written notes.

“That must be the book… the grimoire,” I said, pointing at the vision-twisting thing on the table and changing the topic as fast as humanly possible.

“Yes, the Book of Darkest Sorrow,” Chris replied.

“And dark it is.  Much of this reads like a slaughterhouse manual.  But I found a reference to dopplegangers.  The author calls them dopplegheists and has a whole section on them,” Levi said.

“Yes, that’s what I’m interested in,” Chris said, excited, moving to look over Levi’s shoulder.  My aunt stood and came around to me.

“Declan, this book is like a beacon,” she began.

I interrupted, nodding my head.  “I think it woke me up when you opened the pail.  Is that salt water?” I asked.

“Yes, it is.  But Declan, you felt the book?” Tanya asked, concerned.

“Yeah, still do.  Like a rotten pile of roadkill,” I said with a grimace.

“Will others feel it?” she asked my aunt.

“Possibly. It’s very powerful.  Our Rowan—” she pointed out toward the main widow that faced the tree, “—will block some of it, but unless it’s encased in the wood or in yer bucket of sea water, it’s gonna radiate some.  There are none of our kind around.”

Except for the Sisters Eire in Burlington!  I thought to myself, a wave of guilt flowing over me.

“Well, despite our best efforts, there’s always a chance that we were tracked here,” Chris said.

“Some of your fellows are rather adamant in their admiration for that book.”

“This book has been avidly sought after by at least seven non-witch supernatural groups and countless Circles for the last three hundred or so years.  I’ve been hearing about it for weeks now among collectors,” Levi said.

“Well, we did mention there was danger involved, and we did agree to pay you extra for hazardous duty,” Tanya said, sounding like a lawyer.

“Ms. Demidova, this is me home!  The center of our little two-person Circle, eh, Declan?” Aunt Ash began, looking at me for a nod, which I gave. “I’ve kept our heads below the radar for all of Declan’s life, but that cat’s been out of the bag since the AIR folks came through.  So while I would not invite trouble, I think we can more than handle ourselves!”

“A two-person Circle?  I don’t know much, if anything, about witchcraft, but is that even a thing?” Chris asked.

“Not normally, no.  But then, we’re not normal witches, now are we?  I’m not me sister, but by any other measure, I stack up well.  Declan by his ownself is the equivalent of any four or five ordinary witches, maybe more.”

“You say that’s unusual, right? That much power in a male?  But in my limited memories of witches, I’ve seen a male throw balls of fire and another control a tractor-trailer.  How is that possible?” Chris asked.

“Well, impossible is an ugly word, ‘specially among the supernaturals.  But to answer yer question, there have been more males of almost normal witch power in this latest generation.  I’m guessing they were both young men?”

Chris nodded.

“Were they also accompanied by the other witches of their Circle?” my aunt asked.

“Yes, another ten, I think.”

“Well, witches in a circle can link and lend power to one another.  Generally it’s to the leader, which mostly men are not, ye see.  But tell me now, would this have happened down toward the South, would it?”

“Yes,” he answered. “How did you know?”

“There is a Circle down that away that is reported to be run by a male of most unusual strength.  But it’s like comparing a goat to a quarter horse. Declan could probably match or exceed what he was tossing about without a circle lending him Craft.  I shudder to think what my lad would do with other witches feeding him, eh Declan?” she said with a smile.

I shuddered as well.  I’ve had some close calls right here on this property while learning to control my abilities.  If our insurance company ever had even an inkling of how many times the restaurant almost burned down, we’d never get coverage.

“So you’re not overly worried about us being attacked?” Tanya asked.

“Sending regular spells and such against us, here, within the influence of that tree, would be useless.  Both me sister and I spent years building up the defenses of this area and that tree.  It’s what’s kept us hidden all these years, ye see.  We’ve fed the natural protection of the Rowan, and it has in turn provided a shield.  What does Rory call it?” my aunt asked me.

“A force field, Aunt Ash.  Like from Star Trek,” I answered.  She could never remember that term.

“Aye, that’s it.  A regular force field it is!” she said.  “But it’ll take time for Levi to translate the spells you’re interested in and he has to get it just right, then I have to gather the materials and prepare everything.  When everything is ready, we’ll do the spell, if you still want to, but I imagine it’ll be after the dinner crowd is gone.”

“You’re gonna need a focus item; two actually.  Linked items that mirror each other,” Levi said, looking up from his work. “Without those, we can’t do anything.”

Chris exchanged a look with Tanya, then reached up to his neck and pulled a silver necklace into view.  It had interlocking links that looked like drops of silver water, leading to a big black gem that sucked in light and twisted my vision so hard, I almost puked.

“Good God Almighty, what the devil is that thing?” my aunt asked, looking just as shaken as I felt.

“It’s a God Tear.”

“Well, tis power beyond any I’ve ever seen, but it’s only one,” Aunt Ash said.

He took it off and held the gem in both hands.  “Barbiel mentioned I would need to do this,” he said aside to Tanya, who nodded.  Levi sucked a quick breath at the name.

Holding the gem hidden and cupped in his hands, Chris closed his eyes and concentrated.  I felt a force build, a power I’d never encountered before, something that made my teeth ache and the back of my neck tense up.  My Sight showed violet light bending around his hands, growing so bright I had to close my eyes and turn my head.  There was a pop, like air pressure suddenly changing and when I looked back at him, he was pulling his hands and two identical necklaces apart, each with a gem that looked exactly half the size of the original.  The chain pulled apart into two as if it was two strands of silver licorice.  He held one in each hand. “How about these?”

My aunt was silent, her eyes wide, as she first inspected the twin necklaces without touching them and then leaned over Levi’s shoulder to study his notes.  She looked back up at the gleaming strands of silver and black, frowning.  I recognized that expression as the one I mentally called her Professor Magic look.

“They have so much power on their own, I kinna tell what effect it will have upon the finished spell,” she said grudgingly.  “Me guess is it will supercharge the whole thing, but I need to read it through when Levi is finished, which will be a while, by the looks of things.”

“Yeah, I’m only a quarter done, if that,” Levi muttered, tearing his eyes from the necklaces and bending back to his work.  Tanya closed her eyes and leaned back, features tired.  Maybe she felt my gaze because she suddenly opened them and pinned me with her blue eyes.  People always mention how blue my eyes are, but the vividness of hers was unmatched—except maybe by the brilliant violet of her boyfriend’s.

“As I mentioned, I’m not normally up this early,” she said to me with a smile.  Idiot, she’s a vampire, they don’t do daylight, right? I thought.

“Tanya is resistant to the sun, but it leaves her sleepy,” Chris explained.

“If you would prefer to rest while we grind through this translation, dear, I’m sure me nephew would be happy to show you to our living quarters.  The sofa is a right wonder.”

“I can vouch for that!” Levi said.  He’d spent many a night on that same couch.

“Go ahead, dear. Nothing exciting will be happening for a bit,” Aunt Ash said.

Tanya considered that for a moment then, with a quick glance at Chris, nodded.  “Sure, why not?  Lead on, Declan,” she said in her velvety voice.

Suddenly nervous, I turned and opened the banquet room door, almost knocking over the waitress, Emilee, who was looking hopefully into the room, carrying a full pot of coffee.  Waitress reflexes took over and she automatically stepped out of the way.

Her expression fell in on itself in disappointment when she saw it was only me, but then her eyes got huge when Tanya came through after me and even larger when Chris came after her.

Ah, that’s it.  Hoping for a glimpse of the purple-eyed guy huh?   I gave her a smirk as I realized the reason for her attentive service.  Time to play.

“Ah, Chris, are you hungry by any chance?  Emilee would probably be glad to get you some breakfast, right Em?”

The poor girl could only nod, her cheeks flushing red.

“Oh, you know, that would be great!  I’m actually starving!” Chris said, his face lighting up like it was Christmas morning.

Tanya chuckled.  “You’re always starving, dear one.”

“What do you recommend, Declan?” he asked me, waving away his girlfriend’s comment.

“Woodsman’s Special is my favorite, but only if you like eggs, toast, hash browns, bacon, and pancakes,” I said.

“That sounds awesome!  Can I get three of those?”

“Ah, Chris, each one is three eggs and four pancakes with four strips of bacon, four pieces of toast and a pile of hash browns?”

He considered this information, then nodded.  “Good point, make it four!  Thanks so much… ah… Emilee, was it?”

He was three feet away, looking her straight in the eyes, and I think she came a hair’s breadth from passing out. 

I took pity.  “Em, we’ll be in the living quarters. Bring it on in when it’s ready, please,” I said, snapping her trance and getting a shaky nod in response.

Tanya was amused as I led them out of the restaurant, where curious gazes from customers and staff followed us.  “He has that effect on women.”

“Well, excuse me for saying it, Tanya, but I’m pretty certain that you have the same effect on men,” I said, instantly regretting my big mouth.

Chris laughed.  “I wholeheartedly agree, Declan!”

Chapter 52 -- Declan

I gave them the grand tour and, after Tanya asked where my room was, I showed them the container room, as well.  They both spotted my mom’s photo and commented on the resemblance. 

“I lost my whole family when I was eight.  My grandfather raised me,” Chris said, staring at the photo.  “A demon in a human skin killed them with an axe.”

“I don’t know who killed my mom, but it was likely someone from her home town,” I said.

“What about your father?” Tanya asked, watching me carefully.  I think I may have flinched a bit.

“Mom was raped.  I don’t know anything about my father other than he was from Croatia and he should probably die.”

They both looked at me, startled by my words, but they didn’t say anything else.

We went back into the main family quarters where Emilee was slowly setting the food out.  I mean, it was obvious she was dragging butt, waiting to get a glimpse of Chris.  Tanya just smirked at her boyfriend, then stretched out on the couch, crossing her ankles and putting her arms behind her head.  Her eyes closed and she just went quiet.  I couldn’t tell if she was even breathing.

Chris attacked the food like it was a super villain and I shoed Em out the door, promising I would let her know if we needed anything else.

I broke the chocolate milk out of the fridge and asked if he wanted any.  A quick smile, a nod yes, and he was back in the food.  Pouring us each a glass, I set his in front of him and left the jug on the table.  Four breakfasts were gonna require a lot more than one glass of milk.

“I thought my friend Caeco ate in bulk,” I commented, pretty much in awe of his intake rate.  He laughed around a mouthful of pancake, swallowed, and drank half his glass of milk before replying.  “How is Caeco?”

“She’s good.  She’ll probably be here by lunchtime.  We texted earlier,” I explained.

“Good, I’d like to see her again,” he said.  “As to eating, I’m kinda like a shrew… if I don’t eat, I die… victim of my own metabolism.”

“Like werewolves? Levi told me that weres eat a ton.”

“Yeah, like that, only worse.”

“Ah… will Tanya need to eat… er… drink or whatever when she wakes up later?” I asked, wondering if having a vampire queen around was a good idea.

“She will,” he said, nodding, a slight smile on his face.  “But I’ll feed her.  She won’t drink from anyone else.  That’s another reason I eat so much.”

“Oh, ah, that’s good, then,” I said awkwardly, but thoroughly relieved.  Then my stupid mouth went ahead and asked the main question I’d been harboring.  “Ah, like… what are you?”

Shit!  Did I really just ask that?

He stopped eating and sat back, looking at me full on, pausing uncomfortably for like five seconds that seemed like five minutes.

“You know, Declan, I get that question a lot, and I don’t really like to answer it,” he said, making me feel like a complete dick.  “I usually just make up some wiseass remark.  And I don’t like witches much… but I really like you and your aunt.  Plus… I really only sort of found out what I was when we were both in that silo in New Hampshire.  So, I’ll tell you.”  He paused and got a kind of thoughtful look on his face, then laughed.  “I can’t really remember how I got this way… just bits and pieces… but I can now tell you what this way is.  How screwed up is that?”

It must have been rhetorical because he didn’t wait for an answer.

“Anyway, my main lot in life has always been hunting demons.  From twelve years old on.  You could say that I’m kind of a demon-exorcising savant.  I don’t need a Bible or Holy Water, just my hands.  Then I met her,” he said with a nod at the beautiful girl on the couch.  “I don’t remember a lot about the last two years, just faces and moments in time, and that’s an improvement from where I was when I first got shot.  But I do remember meeting Barbiel,” he said, trailing off.

“Barbiel?”I prompted.

“He’s an Angel—the one assigned to me.”

I wasn’t sure what to say.  I mean, I had a vampire sleeping or lying daydead or whatever the hell she was doing on my couch and I was a witch, so why should discussing Angels be weird?  But it’s easy to talk about dark stuff—demons, vampires, and weres—although my outlook on vampires and weres had improved quite a bit.  But to talk about Angels, the direct agents of God, seemed surreal.  Like everybody wants to know they’re on the side of good and right, but how many religious-spouting whackjobs claim to have seen Angels and been directed on some mission or other by God?  So it threw me.

“Yeah, weird, right?  I didn’t believe it myself.  But he convinced me,” Chris said, reading my expression.

“You didn’t believe him?” I asked.

“You don’t believe me now!  Why would I believe some guy when he said he was an Angel?  Although he never really came out and said it.  Plus he kept disappearing.  Anyway, over time, I started to believe.  You see, the religious people in my childhood all told me I was God’s Warrior—that I was Touched by God.  Barbiel explained that I was a carefully planned upgraded soldier in an arranged battle that has been going on for thousands of years.  A struggle between Heaven and Hell.”

“And you remember all this, but you don’t remember meeting her?” I asked, incredulous.

He frowned, and I suddenly got nervous.  Good job, idiot. Piss off the uber warrior.  Then he looked embarrassed and shrugged.  “I know, right?  I mean, look at her!  Nobody should look that good.  And I don’t remember the first time I laid eyes on her.  I have glimpses and glimmers and I get more all the time, but my first look at her had to be huge!  And I’ve got none of that,” he said, closing his eyes in obvious anguish.

I felt like a complete shithead.  Dick move, O’Carroll!

“Well, at least you’re getting stuff back right?  It’ll come back,” I said lamely.

“Yeah, maybe.  Anyway, the thing is when I died back there in that missile base I had a… meeting of sorts.  Barbiel was there, and others.  And they welcomed me as a brother,” he said, looking at me and then away, pausing to eat an egg.

“Others?  Like other Angels?  So if you’re their brother… oh!  Oh, I see,” I said, as the whole thing came clear.  He looked embarrassed.  Which was odd.  Shouldn’t he be proud?  If not outright braggy about it?

“That’s the implication.  And her, too.  They said that she and I have always been together, like forever,” he said.

The more I thought about what I had seen him do, the more I decided that I believed him.  Plus, he was so damned humble about the whole thing.

“I asked Toni what you were, and she said you were her Guardian Angel.  It makes sense,” I said.

“She said that?” he said, pinning me with his violet eyes. 

I nodded.  “She was telling us about how you would be coming to get her.  You and Tanya and Awasos… and Grim.”

He froze at that, staring at me.  “She told you about Grim?”

“Yeah, she was preparing us, I think.  She said that Grim was scary, trying to get us ready, which frankly no one could have.”

“She’s afraid of Grim?” he said, putting his fork down and staring at his third plate of food morosely.

“Ah, no.  That’s not what I said.  She was telling us that your other… er… that you… well, that you might scare us.  But she wasn’t the slightest bit afraid of you or your Grim side.”

His head snapped back up.  “What?”

“Ah, dude, I’m sure you know this, but that’s one tough-as-nails little girl.  Smart, too.  She was all alone in a secret base, locked in a jail cell, listening to some high school kid tell her Chuck Norris jokes and she was absolutely, hard-as-granite certain that you were coming to get her.  She warned the AIR people.  Told them they would regret it.  And she admitted she was afraid of the rescue.  Said she didn’t like the loud noises and the explosions.  Frankly, I thought she was a little unhinged, but then you ripped the door open, tore the cell apart, and scooped her up.  And I almost crapped myself.  Caeco was even scared, and that girl was designed to be a badass.  But your goddaughter was never, even for a second, afraid of you or your other half.  She kept hiding her head in your shoulder for Chri… I mean, for Heaven’s sake,” I finished, trying to cover my almost flub.  Taking the Son of God’s name in vain in front of what was possibly an Angel made flesh was not my best idea.  He caught it anyway.

“Hah, I do that a lot myself,” he said, grinning.  “But you really believe she’s not afraid of me?”

“She’s absolutely not afraid of you, the vampire goddess over there, or that giant, fang-filled beast that follows you around!  I was shitting myself and she was giggling!  She missed her parents the whole time, but it was you that she knew was coming to get her.”

He just stared at me for a moment, then he slowly smiled.  “Thank you Declan.  When I found out I had a goddaughter, it rocked my world, maybe more than finding out I am what I am.  Then I saw how everyone around me is afraid of me.  I thought she might be, too.”

“I understand that whole people-afraid-of-you stuff.  Virtually all the kids at school are afraid of me, except my friends.  It gets kind of old.”

He tilted his head to one side, then glanced toward our back door.  “Speaking of friends, I think Caeco is here, with her mother and another… a boy maybe your age?”

“Probably Rory, my best friend,” I said, getting up and heading to the door.  Sure enough, the three of them were almost at the back door, Rory chatting away, Caeco smiling at me, and Dr. Jensen looking pained at Rory’s nonstop spiel.

I held the door for them, letting them troop past me and on in.  As I came in behind them, I saw that Tanya was now standing behind Chris.  Freaky.  She had been flat out on the couch about five seconds ago and now she was across the room, looking like she’s been awake for hours.

“Ah, Chris and Tanya, this is my friend Rory.  Rory, these are the folks I mentioned that we met in New Hampshire,” I said, covering the introductions.  “You’ve already met Caeco and her mother, Dr. Jensen.”

Chris came around the table and held out his hand to Rory, who automatically shook it but was having trouble forming words.  Looking back and forth between Tanya and Chris and blushing bright red was about all he could manage.  I think he got a little faint when Tanya smiled at him and reached past him to shake Dr. Jensen’s hand.  Truly fantastic, ammo I could use against him for years and years.

“Hello again, Doctor.  I’m not sure I got to really meet you before,” Tanya said to Caeco’s mom.

“Ah, Dr. Jensen was one of the youngest graduates of Stanford’s genetic engineering program,” Rory suddenly said, then went brighter red, if that was even possible.

“I know.  I read her thesis paper on Transgenesis,” Tanya said.

“You read my paper?” Dr. Jensen asked, thoroughly startled.

“You stalked my mom?” Caeco asked Rory at almost the same time.

Leaving the two women to discuss viral vector techniques in genetic engineering and Rory rapidly explaining himself, I turned to Chris, who was stacking the now-empty plates onto the tray they’d arrived on.

“So, I’m gonna do a quick walk around the perimeter to check Aunt Ash’s wards.  It won’t take long but it does get us outside if you want to go along?” I asked.  He nodded, smiling as he watched his girlfriend chatting easily about advances in recombinant technology.

“She’s so much smarter than I am, it’s scary,” he said.

“Really?  ‘Cause Caeco’s the same way,” I replied.  “Plus, she’s got like this built-in computer thing going on.  Not fair.”

He laughed as we walked out the back door, leaving the two women talking at the table while Caeco and Rory followed us, still discussing Rory’s online etiquette or lack thereof.

Rowan West sits on a big trapezoid-shaped property (look at me… using math terms and shit) that sits on the side of Macomb Hill.  The narrow end of the property is by the road, where our parking lot and buildings sit.  The boundaries arrow outward on the uphill and downhill sides to reach the back line, which is the long side of the trapezoid.  The Rowan tree sits almost dead center of the entire one-and-a-half-acre parcel.  It’s fairly flat but does slope slightly (we are, after all, on the side of a hill).  Our property is on the outside arc of a curving switchback on County Route 213, otherwise known to the locals as Macomb Hill Road.  A quarter mile or so up the hill is another, opposite (and nasty sharp) switchback. The cemetery sits on the inside curve of that one, same side of the road as us.  Downhill, the road runs almost straight, past a couple of houses before entering the official village limits of Castlebury.

Our place was originally the site of one of the town’s first inns, but those buildings, except for the old storage barn, burned down in the Fifties.  Our buildings were put up in the early sixties and have housed some form of restaurant ever since, with the longest-running and most successful being Rowan West.  My aunt and mother had left I-89 eighteen years ago and followed Route 117 and the Winooski River till Mom, who was driving, had just decided to take 213 north, arriving over the same hill that Caeco and her mom had.  The restaurant had been empty, its previous incarnation having failed for one reason or another.  Aunt Ash said that they had been drawn to the spot and had prowled around the closed buildings and found the Rowan tree.  Within a day, they had made an offer to the owner, Harold Flynn, who, it turns out, had a soft spot for anything Irish, and pretty women in particular.  He held the note on the property and, using the proceeds from their pawned family jewelry, my mom and aunt had started the business.  Ten years later, my aunt made the last payment on the loan and burned the mortgage in our Spring Equinox bonfire.

I led Chris and my two friends along the road to the downside corner, then turned right and followed the edge of the woods toward the back of the property.  An old stone wall marked the property line, and Aunt Ash’s wards were carved into some of its rocks.  Spaced about ten feet apart, she used various combinations of the more protective runes to establish our supernatural fence.

Chris was able to pick out each rune-marked stone before the carvings actually became visible, which I would have said only a witch could do.

“Well, I can sort of see witchcraft,” he explained, strolling along smoothly over the uneven ground.  Rory, who was tripping every third step, was, for once, listening raptly to every word.

“Does it have something to do with your odd aura?” I asked. 

He looked at me sharply but with a smile.  “You can see that?”

“Yeah, it’s a violet color, very like your eyes,” I said. 

“You can see his aura?” Caeco asked, sounding a little unnerved.

“Yeah, so what?  You can see in the dark,” I pointed out.

“But that’s just biology and physics.  The aura thing is supernatural,” she said.

“I’m not sure it’s supernatural.  Everything has one.  I think they’re just energy fields that aren’t visible in the standard electromagnetic spectrum,” I replied.

“What color is mine?” she asked.

“Mainly blue, like most people’s.  Animals are green,” I said, not telling her that she had little flecks of green woven through her blue.

“What about vampires?” Rory asked. 

“Tanya’s is white.  I never looked at Charles’s.  Or Frank’s either, so I don’t know what weres look like.”

“That’s exactly the way I see them, too,” Chris said, surprised.

“What about witches?”

“Blue with specks of flat black,” said Chris.  “Weres have strong currents of green mixed in.”

“So Declan has little dots of black?” Rory asked.

“No, Declan has big splotches of black.  Other witches I’ve seen have much smaller ones.”

“The bigger the splotch, the stronger the witch?” Caeco asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t remember every witch I’ve ever seen, but I don’t think I’ve seen an aura quite like Declan’s before,” he said.  “On the topic of splotches, what are the little blobs of black that I see buried along the treeline?”

“See those too, huh?” I asked, no longer surprised.  “Those are railroad spikes, somewhere around a hundred or so of them.  About six or seven years ago, my aunt drove Rory and I to an old railroad track and promised us a quarter for every loose spike we could find.  We found about thirty that day. Thought we were rich. Then we started visiting other tracks and picking up more.  We weren’t allowed to try to pry any out of the tracks, just the old, rusted ones.  She had us pound them into the ground every six feet or so, and they’ve become part of the protection spells for this place.”

“Iron?” Caeco asked.

“Iron has been involved in magic since we first dug it out and smelted it.  Found in earth, strong and hard, it’s infused with protectiveness.  We’ve been using iron weapons since we learned to forge.  Plus, it has certain properties which repel malicious spirits and beings.”

We were almost across the full back line when Darci stepped out the back door and waved at us.  She was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt yet still managed to look somehow official.

We walked across the yard.  “Ashling needs you inside for the next part,” she said to Chris.  “And you need to prepare four bonfires and set a circle over in the ritual space,” she directed at me.

I directed my senses toward the restaurant.  “She put up the Stay Away spell?  What about staff?”

“Sent everyone home with full pay and closed the restaurant, although no customers have shown up for the last hour or so,” Darci replied.

“Wait, really?” I asked.

“What does that all mean?” Chris asked.  The others looked just as curious.

“Well, we have some preset spells that either attract business or send it away.  But she didn’t turn on the do not disturb sign till just a few minutes ago.  So if no one showed about around lunchtime on a Saturday at this place, then something or someone else is keeping them away.”

“Other witches?” Caeco asked.

“I’m not sure who else could do it, so I’d have to say yeah,” I replied.  “Which probably means they can sense the book.”

“I’ll go in. The quicker we get this done and then drag that damned book away, the better,” Chris said, following Darci back inside.  I headed over toward the old barn, my two friends in tow.

“So what does setting a circle entail?” Caeco asked.

“It’s just busy work.  Anyone could do it, and it won’t take long.  It’s more of a distraction than anything,” I said.

“A distraction?  From what?” she asked, a frown on her face.

“To keep Declan out here and away from the spell work,” Rory said. 

“And away from that book,” I added.

“Why?  Shouldn’t you be learning this stuff?” she persisted.

“That book is evil.  I felt it when they opened its container.  It draws witches with promises of power.  It wants us to use it. Aunt Ash doesn’t want me near it.”

“She doesn’t trust you to stay clear of it?” Caeco asked, looking slightly offended. 

I smiled at her for that, then shook my head.  “The book is not really a book anymore.  It’s an object of power, and it almost has its own agenda.  It wants me to use it.  It’s like an itch in the back of my head.”

“You’re saying it’s like the one ring in Lord of the Rings?”  Caeco asked, looking incredulous.

“You’ve watched LTR?” Rory asked, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

“Just because I didn’t grow up in a house or a town doesn’t mean I don’t watch movies, Rory Tessing!” she said, squaring off in front of him.  Not a good sign, but thankfully one he was able to pick up on.  He held both hands in front of his face.

“Don’t hit the smart kid!  I was just shocked you’d watch a fantasy movie instead of a war flick,” he explained.

“It’s full of fights and battles,” she said, then turned to me.  “But why does your aunt not trust you near it but trusts herself?

“It’s more a matter of the fact that she has experience and discipline, but it’s also because of my potential.”

“Because you’re powerful?” she asked.

“Yeah, it wants the most powerful witch it can find.  It wants me,” I said.

“And think how bad it would be if Declan got all twisted by it and went nuclear,” Rory said.

She looked at me thoughtfully as I opened the shed door.  “Does that hurt your feelings?”

“Listen, my father was basically a rapist.  So half my genes are tainted by that fucker’s bad mojo.  I wouldn’t trust me, either,” I said, heading into the dark interior.

I deliberately left off telling her that part of me, a tiny, twisted part, wanted to grab the book and see what I could really do.

Chapter 53- Declan

I handed the circle post and rope combo to Rory, who had set his share of circles before.  Being a mathematical perfectionist, he usually did a more precise job than I would.

“Okay, we’ll let the boy genius get the circle marked out while you and I prep the bonfires,” I said to Caeco, leading her further into the barn.  Enough light seeped in from the door, the dirty windows in the back, and the gaps in the walls to see the contents—stacks and stacks of split firewood, rounds of unsplit logs, and a stack of dead, dry pine poles.  My favorite splitting maul and my Estwing axe leaned up against the big round maple chunk that I used for my splitting base.  I handed the Estwing to Caeco, then pointed to the poles.

“We need to build four bonfires about three, three-and-a-half feet high.  I stack the split wood then lean up a whole teepee arrangement with those poles.  So if you would cut a bunch of three-and-a-half feet sections, I’ll get started with the split wood.”

She hefted the ax, which had been my first, a gift from Darci when I was twelve.  It was a twenty-six-inch camper’s ax, all one-piece metal like the hammers Estwing makes.  She twirled it in a loop around her, the stainless steel flashing a silver line in the dim light.

“I like this.  It’s got great balance,” she said with the kind of enthusiasm that most girls reserve for shoes.

Picking up a six-foot pole, I set it on the splitting base so that it was equally balanced and waved her on.  She stepped smoothly forward, the ax blurring up, around behind her, and slamming down on the pole at an angle.  It usually takes me several chops to get through arm-thick pine.  She did it in one—the wood jumping apart into two equal lengths.

“You good?” I asked.  She nodded, smiling, already headed to the pile to get another pole.

I grabbed an armload of the stacked stuff and headed outside.  Rory was using a sharp stick attached to nine feet of cord scribe a circle in the dirt.

I set my first load of wood down at the north compass point of the circle, which already had a shallow, ash-filled depression.  Then I headed back for more, using multiple trips to pile wood at each of the four Cardinal direction points, each in their own fire pit.  Then Caeco and I carried her rather abundant supply of pine poles out and leaned them in teepees around the hardwood. 

Our ritual area is outside the barn on the far side from the restaurant.  Most of it is blocked from view by the barn itself.  We also have another bonfire space for party-type fires.  That one is directly outside the main dining room window and we use it for public events, fundraisers, and various other times. Our public bonfires are popular—people love to say they partied with real witches even if we don’t admit we are.

Rory had finished the scribing and was now pouring white sand from a big plastic jug into the freshly scribed track, making the circle more visible and slightly raised from the ground.

“Is that special sand?” Caeco asked, coming up beside me, the axe on her shoulder.  I studied her for a second, noting the casual and slightly possessive way she held the Estwing.  Hmm, I know what to get her for a Samhain gift, I thought.

“No, it’s just sandbox sand from Home Depot,” I said, and then the attack came.

I felt it immediately—a pressure on my mind.  Rory and Caeco both grabbed their rune amulets at the same time.

“What was that?” Caeco asked, looking at her necklace. “It shocked me, a little.”

“Someone just tried out a spell against us… sleeper spell, I think,” I said, turning toward the uphill side of the property and gathering power.

My aunt burst out of the house, running right at me.  “Declan, don’t do it!  Don’t you respond, lad!”  I stood still, waiting for her, clenching my fists but doing nothing else.

“Aunt Ash, they attacked us!”

She arrived; out of breath (my aunt doesn’t get enough cardio).  Behind her, Chris, Tanya, Levi, and Darci streamed out behind her, all looking puzzled.

“Yes, Declan, and it bounced right off our wards, now didn’t it?  Like as not, it went right back in their own faces.  So you don’t need to be doing any of your own, now do you?” she asked, getting right up close and in my face.  “Do you?”

Frustrated, I looked away from her, toward where I felt the attack come from.

“What happened?” Chris asked, his girlfriend by his side.  The others were still coming across the lawn, but Chris and Tanya had kept pace with my aunt without effort.

“Well now, if I had to guess, I’d say someone else has found you and that book.  They tried a coma spell on us.  It didn’t get through our protections and likely reflected back onto them.  Now Declan, why don’t you do something useful with all that you’re holding and dump it back into the wards?” Ashling directed, nodding at my clenched fists.

The ring of iron spikes circles the whole property, including the road front and parking lot, the spikes pounded right down into the asphalt.  Four lines of additional spikes run into the property toward the Rowan tree, like spokes on a lopsided wheel.  The lines run along North, South, East, and West. 

The North line of spikes was closest, running from the restaurant toward the tree.  I found the nearest spike, about twenty feet away, and dumped the overload of power I was carrying into it.

“Whoa!  What was that?” Chris asked, eyes wide.

“Me nephew dumped the response he was carrying into the wards.  It jumps from spike to spike and stone to stone, strengthening all of them,” Aunt Ash explained.

“Yeah, I could see it race around the property.  Why?” he asked.

“Because I don’t want him responding.  They got their own attack thrown right back at them, so we don’t need to be doing anything rash, now do we?”

“Offense is the best defense,” Tanya noted, sounding a bit puzzled.  My aunt whirled on her, completely unmindful of danger, or maybe in spite of it.

“That’s fine for you and yours, my dear,” she said in an arctic voice.  “But I’ll not have me nephew headed down that road just yet.”

Tanya looked honestly baffled.

“She doesn’t want D going over to the Dark side,” Rory said, then blushed bright red.

“’Cause ya know, I’m half there already!” I said, too angry and embarrassed for words.  I spun on my heel and headed back into the barn for more wood.  A soft step behind me told me that someone had followed.   Gathering up more pine, I turned and found Chris gathering an armload of his own.  He wasn’t looking at me when he spoke.

“I’m supposed to be God’s Hammer on Earth.  Supposed to have been one of the Host.  But even if that’s true, I’m tainted.  Tarnished beyond repair.”

I stopped, confused.  Of everything I thought he might say, this wasn’t it.  I just looked at him.

“See, when I first met Tanya, I was injected with demon blood, and it bonded to me.  Or so they tell me, I really don’t remember.  Apparently, it melded with my dark side—the part we call Grim.  So I have to be careful… more careful.  Everyone has a dark side as well as a light side. Mine is a bit more aggressive than most.  The demon blood boosts my dark side, making me want to indulge my abilities.  To let them out and go crazy.  If I ever do, my hope is that Tanya kills me quick.”

I was frozen, eyes wide, trying to process what he’d just said.

He smiled at me.  “Your aunt is worried you’ll get to like using your vast abilities, Declan.  It doesn’t matter whether your father was good or bad, the seeds for evil live in all of us.  It’s part and parcel of the human condition.  Part of free will.  You are a young warlock, and you’ve got a right to be angry with what’s been done to your family and you.  But that anger can take on a life of its own.  Trust me, I know—I know exactly how that works.  So Ashling is trying to protect you, but you, being just about adult, feel you should be trusted to decide when and where to use your abilities.  It’s a struggle that actually goes on between every parent or guardian and their kid.  Most just don’t have the ability to lay waste to a town with a thought or two, though,” he said, chuckling at the end.  “And Declan?  I don’t think it has the slightest bit to do with who your father is or was.  Tanya is a born vampire, the only one ever.  She’s probably the most perfect predator to walk the planet, the product of powerful vampires.  But she doesn’t hunt humans at all.  None.  Just me, and I hardly qualify.  And that’s because it’s her choice what she does with her abilities.  And I’ll confess to one last thing, one I’ll deny if you repeat it to anyone,” he said, pointing one finger at me.  I shook my head rapidly.  No way I’d repeat this guy’s secrets.

“Part of me absolutely loves to fight.  To use my abilities to their fullest.  And I’m a really good fighter, Declan, but I choose when and who I fight. Me, the thinking, feeling, in-control part.”

“Me too,” I said.  “No so much fighting, but using my abilities.  And she’s right to mistrust me.  I haven’t always made the best choices with my abilities.”

“Who has?” Chris asked.  “Why, not long before I came up to see you folks, I used my abilities to harass a soccer referee.  The bastard was so biased, it was ridiculous.  But I got in a world of trouble with Toni’s mom over that one.”

“Me too,” I said again, feeling like a broken record.  “With the whole referee thing.  That’s one of my bad decisions.”

He shrugged.  “They’re only human, but they’re supposed to be objective.  Pisses me off.”

“But how much trouble could Mrs. Velasquez give you?  She has no powers, does she?”

“Ah, but see, she’s my friend, Declan, and your friends have the ability to hurt you a great deal more than your enemies.  If she’s angry with me, I don’t like it, so I tend to avoid making her angry with me for no good reason, although I’m not ready to concede that that ref wasn’t a good reason.”

He ran out of poles, so he set the stack down and went over to the uncut ones. Picking up a seven-foot length as thick as my upper arm, he casually held it out in front of him with both hands and snapped it cleanly in half with a twitch.  The way I snap pencils, but maybe with less effort.  He snapped five more, added the halves to his already mountainous pile, and headed out.  I followed quietly, thinking about what he’d said.

My aunt was looking over the circle, nodding to herself, but she glanced my way when I came out, a vulnerable look on her face.  I was still embarrassed and maybe a little angry, but much less than before.  I gave her a nod and carried my wood to the north fire.  Caeco met me there to unload.

“If it helps, I think he’s right,” she said with a nod toward Chris.  “Mother and I have had the exact same argument.  I’ve spent my whole life training for combat and spycraft, and she still argues with me about letting me do it.  I think it’s a parent thing.”

“You heard him?” I asked, not really surprised.  She nodded, shrugging.  I laughed.  “Your mom does good work, huh?”  She laughed, too, and the adults all looked our way, startled, except Chris and Tanya, who just smiled at each other.

“We’re done with the book, Chris.   It might be best if it were shut back in its salty pail,” my aunt suggested.  Tanya disappeared, literally there one moment and gone the next, only the wind of her passage and the snick of the restaurant door closing to announce her exit.

“I still don’t know how it’s possible for anyone to move that fast.  Yet they do it,” Caeco muttered, looking peeved.  It took me a second to realize she was envious.

My aunt and Levi headed back inside, probably to get the rest of the spell ready.  Darci headed my way. 

“I’m gonna rustle lunch together for this crowd. Want to help?” she asked, her eyes searching mine.  I nodded. 

“I think we’re all done out here; can you use some more help?” Rory asked. 

Darci looked around and saw Caeco, Chris, and my little buddy all nodding.  “Well, sure.  I think there is both a ham and a beef haunch we can carve for sandwich meat.  I imagine a few of you are handy with knives?” she asked with a chuckle, heading toward the door.

When I took the first step to follow, the itch at the back of my head suddenly dissappeared.

Tanya must have resealed the Book of Darkest Sorrow in its saltwater bath.  Feeling a little relief, I trudged after my friends but paused at the doorway to look uphill where I had felt the attack.  Whoever had sent it was still there, probably recovering from the bounce back, but still there.  I looked at the wards with my Sight, seeing the protective energies shimmer in the fall sunlight.  In a few hours, it would start to get dark.  Aunt Ash would begin her spell after darkfall, and our unseen enemy would probably try again.  I’d be ready.

Chapter 54 – Declan

We ate a lot.  Massive ham and roast beef sandwiches, beef barley soup the cook had left still warm on the stove, and a couple of apple pies.  Even Caeco couldn’t out-eat Chris.  And after lunch, Rory, Caeco, and I cleaned up the dishes while Chris went off to feed Tanya. For once, even Rory kept his curiosity in check.

The sun began to wane in the early afternoon, as it does here in the Green Mountains of Vermont in early October, and before long, my aunt declared it was time to move outdoors and begin the spell itself.

She laid out a section of deerskin inside the circle, the two God Tear amulets lying on it along with bundles of herbs and little cotton pouches of powders, all beside a wooden mortar and pestle.  Then she studied Levi’s handwritten notes a final time before beginning.   In the eastern sky, the half-full moon was beginning to rise above the treeline.

“Chris, I’ll be needing you here inside the circle with me.  Tanya, you as well. There’ll be a point where you’ll have to be holding him if you can.  He must remain still, and this won’t be fun,” she said.

“I’ll hold him,” the beautiful vampire said firmly.

“Declan, I’ll need you to close the circle, lad, then feed me power when I need it like,” Aunt Ash told me.  I nodded.

“So let us begin.  First I’ll be talking to the Powers that be a bit. Then Declan will light the fires and it’ll be off ta the races it will.  Once I start, I canna stop the spell or it will fail.  Nuthing must interfere. Chris, you and Tanya canna leave the circle once we’ve begun, do you understand?”

They both nodded.

“Darci, Levi, I need you two to watch over the Ritual Space, provide overwatch as ye might say.  Caeco, Rory, Abigail, please help them as they direct.  Okay?”

Everyone nodded. Levi even went to the back door and grabbed a rectangular black case that looked like it might hold some type of instrument.  He set it down and took up position nearby.

With one last look around, my aunt began, speaking in Irish.

“Danu, Gach-Máthair. Cuir chloisteáil na focail seo, le do thoil treoir ar na lámha, do thoil go díreach an croí.
Dagda, Gach-Athair. Cuir dheonú an eagna amháin, le do thoil déan cinnte an t-eolas, smacht na céimeanna seo.
Áine, le do thoil éisteacht lenár pléadáil le haghaidh cosanta. Cuir dheonú ar an settings na amulets do chumhacht i retribution agus retaliation.
Lugh, Fada bhuailteoir, le do thoil tabhair dúinn beart de do cruinneas agus aidhm deadly ionas go bhféadfadh sé seo seal stailc díreach mar ar intinn again.”

I can’t speak it as well as I would like, but I understand it well enough.  I translated in my head as she spoke.

“Danu, All-Mother.  Please hear these words, please guide these hands, please direct this heart.

Dagda, All-Father.  Please grant this one wisdom, please make certain of this knowledge, discipline these steps.

Aine, please hear our plea for protection. Please grant the bearer of these amulets your power in retribution and retaliation.

Lugh, Long Striker, please grant us a measure of your accuracy and deadly aim so that this spell might strike exactly as we intend.”

We typically call on one or more of the pantheon of Irish deities during a ritual.  Four was unusual.  Danu and Dagda were sort of the parent figures in my aunt’s eyes, and she often sought their guidance and blessing.

Aine was also a common name from my aunt’s lips.  She holds dominion over crops and fertility, often besought by both men and women to grant them fertility and prosperity, but she also has a dark side.  The mythology holds that Aine was raped and was able to gain her revenge over her attacker.  She has little pity for men who abuse women. I think she’s Aunt Ashling’s favorite.

Lugh was a master of skills, the Patron god of blacksmiths and craftsmen.  My aunt sought his help with complex spells that required precision.  His magic spear would never miss and was so bloodthirsty, it would often seek battle without him.

Her opening act complete, my aunt turned her head to me and nodded.  I focused my thoughts on the hardwood under each bonfire pile, specifically the one piece of white birch I had placed at the bottom of each.  Easy to hold a mental image of, they served as targets for the Fire energy that I had been quietly gathering while my aunt spoke.  At her second nod, I released it and flames sprang up from the base of each pyre.  I held my will focused on them until each was fully involved, then cut that connection and began to gather Earth power in a steady stream and direct it smoothly to my aunt. 

She took a short, sharp breath as my energy reached her, then began to mold the power to her will.  Receiving power from another witch is a bit of a shock, like suddenly cold water in the shower.  Aunt Ash says mine is like getting a big bucket of ice water down the back.

She began to speak, Irish again, but this time too quietly for me to hear—which was, I think, by design.  She moved to the deerskin and held both hands palms down over the amulets and began her work.

Unable to hear the spell, and unable to see what she did as her back blocked my vision, I simply concentrated on feeding her power, falling into the mental rhythm of what was, for me, a basic exercise in the Craft.  I lost track of time for a while, but Caeco’s sudden hiss of breath caught my attention.  The crescent moon was much higher now, its light combining with the firelight to show me what Caeco was intently staring at across the field.

Standing in the treeline on the uphill side of the property were figures—people, motionless, on the perimeter of our property.  Everyone else was also staring intently at the watchers in the wood, and Levi unzipped his black bag, pulling out his shorty AR-15.  At the sound of a round being chambered, my aunt shook her head. Darci stepped over to him, whispering in his ear.  The blast of the rifle would be too loud to maintain the spell she was crafting, the disruption too great.

That message delivered, Darci started toward the newcomers, striding confidently across the grass and after a moment, so did Levi, still holding his rifle.  A third figure joined them, Caeco with my axe in hand, gliding with athletic grace across the uneven ground.

I wanted to go with them, to use my abilities, but my aunt caught and held my gaze with her blue eyes, still chanting her spell, still drawing my gift of power.

The edge of the woods was a good hundred yards away, so I couldn’t make out detail, but I definitely saw my step-aunt rock to a sudden surprised stop and even take a step back.  Levi just as suddenly brought the rifle back up on target, which surprised me. Both Darci and Levi had drilled me in weapon safety, and Levi in particular had told me time and again to never point a weapon at anyone unless you were prepared to shoot them and to deal with the consequences of their death.  Yet his weapon was pointed directly at the unmoving figures, ready to shoot.

The figures started moving. Darci moved backward, again speaking to Levi, who also moved back, rifle still on target.

The figures all converged on one spot in the woods, almost in a line.  They began to move forward until the first in line either stepped or was pushed into our Ward line. The results were spectacular to my Sight.

Coruscating blues and greens flared out all around the figure, which fell forward with a sodden thump.  I felt the impact on our protective shields even as I saw it.  Whatever they were, they were magic, and one of them had just fried out a spot in our magical fence.  The sharp jolt I felt was a hundred times stronger than the first sleeper spell attack on our defenses, much more painful.  But luckily, my aunt was shielded from it by the circle that surrounded her.  Only my power feed was able to get into the circle, and that was by the design of her Craft.  As it was, my volume of magic faltered at the shock, and my aunt suddenly looked scared.  Her eyes flicked my way but her patter of words, mostly in Irish but with some that sounded like Latin, never ceased.

I got my act together and smoothed out the stream of power I was sending her, then looked back to the wood line.   A shambling figure in a torn gray dress was walking over the back of her fallen companion, one arm hanging loosely.  I tried to see them better, but the distance was too far and the light too dim.

Aunt Ash ceased speaking and I looked back at her, thinking something went wrong, but it was the end of that part of her spell.  We could talk now, at least a little.

“Chris, can you see them?” I asked.  He and Tanya were both watching the drama from inside the circle.

“Yeah, clear as day.  They’re corpses,” he said, scratching the side of his head in confusion. “Zombies?”

“Revenants,” I corrected, certain now of what I was seeing.  “Typically, what we think of as zombies have some autonomy or self-awareness, at least according to Hollywood.  I’m not sure those kind of undead exist at all.  Those out there are more like remote-controlled robots. Witch drones. A witch or witches raised them, probably from the cemetery up the hill.  Probably the same Circle that tried the earlier spell.  But this time, they chose a much smarter option.”

“A much more dangerous option, don’t ye mean?” my aunt said while pouring various herbs into the mortar and pestle. “Tis a weakness of our wards, but it takes a bloody madman or woman to raise them.  The slightest slip of concentration and the corpses lose animation and the witches lose their bloody lives.”

“What do we do?” Tanya asked.  Out by the woods, another corpse was shoved into the wards and a second bridge was now being used by more revenants.  Darci pulled a concealed sidearm and, after a glance our way, shot one in the head.  It did nothing.  Levi tried his more powerful weapon, the flash of gunfire as bright as the sound of the shot was loud.  Similar results.

“We do nothing!” she said, pointing at Chris, Tanya, and herself. “I need Declan’s power for a wee bit more, then he can deal with them.  In the meantime, the others will have to slow them down.”

Dr. Jensen, who had been observing everything with a fascinated expression, suddenly spoke up, but not to us. 

“You heard her, Caeco?  Slow them down,” she said in an average speaking voice.

Chapter 55- Declan

Out on the field, Caeco had turned our way and despite the distance, she nodded in understanding, slipping forward past Levi and Darci, who dropped their muzzles to the ground.

Still feeding a torrent of energy to my aunt, who was now pouring handfuls of ground herbs over the two amulets, I watched my new friend slide into action.

She met the first corpse, the woman in gray, and her axe flashed silver in the moonlight as she disassembled the corpse in four lightning-fast strokes.  Leg, arm, head, other knee.  The body fell and continued to twitch but without direction or progress.

After studying the effects of her efforts, like she was in AP Bio lab or something, she moved forward again, in a dark blur, the silver flashing line of her axe like a kid with a sparkler at the Fourth of July. Another corpse fell, and another.  But the edge of the woods was filling with more bodies and a third bridge was being made at the cost of a big fat corpse in red plaid and overalls.

Darci and Levi holstered and slung their ineffective weapons and picked up sticks, moving to protect Caeco’s flanks.   My friend was moving back and forth between two corpses, taking arms, legs, and heads with every fluid movement.  Still more corpses came through the wards.

“Wow! Caeco’s going HAM!” Rory said.

“Ham?” Dr. Jensen asked, confused.

“Hard As a Motherf…” I began to explain.

“That’s enough, boy!” my aunt interjected.

“Ah, Aunt Ash, there’s too many of them for her,” I said.

“Hold ye horses, lad.  Can’t be rushing this, now can I?” she replied, closing her eyes and muttering more words over the necklaces, which were now sparking and flashing in my Sight.

There was now a line of six figures approaching Caeco and her helpers.  She could only engage two or three at a time, and when Levi and Darci struck the corpses with powerful blows from the tree limbs they wielded, it did less than the gunshots.  Only a sharp blade had an effect.  Or perhaps fire.

“That should about do it.  Ye can cut the stream, Declan.  Then I think ye ought to do something about helping our friends, don’t ye?” Aunt Ash said, fixing me with a meaningful look.

I wasted no time, dropping the Earth power and gathering the raw heat of the fires to me even as I began to run toward the wood line.  The fires all flared in unison, as if they were suddenly burning through their fuel much faster—the mother of all cigarettes being sucked to ash.

“Caeco!  Fall back, my turn,” I yelled.  Without missing a beat, the brown-haired girl finished one swing and then jumped backward a good twelve feet, bringing her even with Darci and Levi, who immediately started to backpedal.

I focused my will and picked out targets while my friends scrambled back from the corpses.  As soon as they were clear, I let go, releasing my pent-up will and letting my fear and anger provide additional fuel. 

All of the corpses on our side of the line—seventeen, including the corpses still wiggling on the ground—exploded into roaring pillars of white hot fire, lighting everything around us daylight bright: twelve noon in Death Valley bright.  They burned with blast furnace intensity, all the carbon and energy in their decaying bodies oxidizing in about five seconds.  Then, almost as one, they burned out, their bodies whirling up in swirling plumes of superheated smoke and white ash.  The clearing fell back into darkness, the sudden absence of light too fast for my eyes to adjust.

I couldn’t see the remaining revenants in the woods’ edge, everything a solid black around me.  I panicked, picturing them closing on me, ready to rip me apart and me not able to see.

“They’re frozen, just standing in the woods. It’s like their operators are too shocked to play,” a soft voice said, almost in my ear.  Her hand touched my arm, and I could see her in my mind’s eye, standing at my side, watching the enemy with superior brown eyes, guarding me till my sight could adjust.

I calmed instantly, knowing the girl with the axe had my back. Flickers of light from the dimmed fires started to show me slight detail that grew as my stubborn night vision slowly returned.  Behind me, I could hear a clunking sound, the knocking vibrations of firewood being dumped into half-consumed fires.  The light flared, and I glanced back at the ritual space.  Rory was carrying armloads of firewood from the shed, rebuilding each fire that I had depleted, reloading my ammunition magazines for the next battle.   After a moment, Levi, Darci, and Dr. Jensen started to help him and both the light and the Fire power around me rose.

I turned back to Caeco.  “Thanks for the safety check.  I was getting a little nervous, you know, with these faulty eyes of mine.” I held her gaze for a moment before turning back to the woods.

“Yeah, well, I could feel you getting edgy, and I thought it might be bad if you exploded the whole damned forest just to light your way,” she said with a smirk.  “You know, I didn’t realize it before, but you’re kind of a show-off.  I was doing pretty well before you came along, with your giant flashy-end-of-the-world fire show.”

“No shit.  You and that axe are a total menace.  I was going to wait and give it to you for Samhain, but what the hell.  Keep the axe… my gift.”

She lit up with a sudden smile, glancing down at the deadly steel in her hand. Abruptly, she hugged me.  “Here I thought I’d have to drop hints and shit.  Wait, Samhain?  Isn’t that Halloween?”

“Yeah, it’s a major deal for us… we give gifts,” I said, noticing the revenants in the woods were beginning to stir.  I didn’t want to burn them; it would likely set the whole forest on fire, and I am, after all, a born Vermonter—not going to happen.

The three fried-out corpse bridges were still lying across our wards, so I reached with my left hand and pulled them toward me with a thought and a surge of Earth power.  Then I drew a bit on the built-up fires and burned them to ash.

“That’ll do for a bit, lad.  Come back and help yer poor aunt,” Ashling said, standing tall and watching me with a concerned look.

We started back toward the others and the fires.  “Why did you mess around with magnesium bars with the AIR soldiers when you could have just immolated them?” Caeco suddenly asked.

“Well, I didn’t have a bunch of handy fires to pull heat from, so it would have taken a lot longer to build up the power.  The magnesium just needed a nudge and a mental throw.  It was much more expedient and efficient. Plus, I’m not supposed to display like that… it’s like sending out a text to all the nearby witches saying hashtag here’s a witch.”

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” she said with a wave at the circles of blackened grass and vegetation around the clearing.

“I’ve never done anything that big before, so, yeah,” I replied.

I glanced at my aunt and the others, who were all watching me with various expressions: my aunt appraisingly, Chris with a look of respect, Tanya with one exquisite eyebrow raised, Darci and Levi slightly stunned, and Dr. Jensen with a fascinated and creepy stare.  Rory was still loading wood, so he just gave me a grin and a one-handed fist pump before continuing to build up the fires.

“You need more power, Aunt Ash?” I asked.

“No, lad. I jest don’t want ye burning down the bloody woods and turning the whole damned town ta cinders,” she said, smiling a little but still evaluating me.

“I’m not ready to run after the screaming villagers just yet, Aunt Ash.  Maybe after graduation.”

“Cheeky damned teenager.  He wasn’t like this till he met you, ye know?” she said with a mock glare at Caeco.

“Oh please!  He’s the terror of the school, extorting lunch money, scaring pretty girls, bullying the jocks.  If anything, I’m a calming influence on him,” Caeco said with her own smirk.

“Yeah, I think yer right, dear.  Maybe between the two of us, we can keep him in check,” Aunt Ash replied, smiling fully.

“It’s his monstrous ego that I’m worried about,” Caeco responded.

“What, like Dr. Jekell and Mr. Narcissist?” Rory asked.

“Funny, Tessing.  Look, I’m reading your future and guess what?  Comedy clubs aren’t in it,” I said.  “What next, Aunt Ash?” I asked, anxious to change the topic.

“Next is the painful part, at least for you, Chris.  I think this part will be like getting torn in half, slowly.  Are you sure you want to continue?”

He nodded.

“You must hold him as near motionless as possible,” Aunt Ash said to Tanya, one eyebrow raised in question.

“He will not move from this spot.  Can we sit?” Tanya asked.

Ashling nodded, so Tanya sat on the ground and pulled Chris down in front of her.  She hooked her legs around his and wrapped one arm over his left shoulder and one arm under his right, clasping them tight.  She kissed his neck and nodded her readiness to my aunt.

Ashling picked up one of the God Tear amulets and placed it over Chris’s head.  Holding the handwritten spell, she read out loud, this time in Latin.  At the first word, the first sound of the first syllable, Chris arched his back and clenched his jaw, his feet drumming on the ground.

I saw the guy tear steel like taffy and pull a reinforced prison cell door from concrete, yet the slim beauty held him frozen to the ground like they were cemented in place.  My aunt continued her spell and, despite the awful, obvious pain he was enduring, she never rushed or hurried her words.  She finished the first page, flipped the paper over, and continued to read, all while ignoring the bulging veins and twisted tendons of her patient?... victim?

I looked at the entwined couple on the ground with my Sight and almost had to look away.  Almost.   Sharp violet energy was flaring around Chris’s entire body, but brightest around his head.  At the same time, white light flowed from Tanya through and around Chris and down into the ground.  I got the impression the white was like anchoring cables, holding Tanya and her mate tight against the earth, but the purple light was wholly Chris, and it looked like it was being pulled apart.

A violet teardrop formed, about the size of a softball, pulled almost literally from Chris’s face, and when it finally tore free from him, he slumped in exhaustion, eyes shut and chest heaving for air.   My aunt placed her hands above and below the orb, not touching but still able to guide the violet bundle across the circle till it was hovering directly over the second God Tear.  She held both hands over it, palms down, and with a sharp, powerful motion shoved the globe of energy into the amulet, which jumped an inch off the ground.

She studied it for a moment, no doubt with her own Sight, just as I was.  It glowed with a purple hue, the energy racing around and around the chain as if seeking escape.  Finally, the glow dimmed and evened out across the entire necklace.  When it was done, she picked it up and handed it to the exhausted man on the ground.

“It’s done, and unless I be badly mistaken, it took the spell well, it did.  Though I don’t know how to test it,” my aunt said, rubbing her lower back and looking tired, herself.

She turned my way and nodded. I broke the circle, absorbing its energy back into myself.

Chris was holding the amulet in one hand and comparing it to the other around his neck. 

“How would we test it?” he mused.

His girlfriend slipped the necklace from his hand and put it over her own neck.  “I think I know how,” she said, then disappeared in a rush of air.

Chapter 56- Declan

I couldn’t find her for a second, but Caeco’s head swiveled to look down at the wood line and, lo and behold, there she was, standing on our side of the wards, facing about seven or eight corpses.  Without even a glance our way, she stepped over the line and right into the middle of the witch-controlled bodies.   At least four arms reached for her, almost simultaneously, one actually touching her shirt.  Purple light flashed out around her figure, and all seven bodies exploded into dust.

A shimmering violet figure hovered just to her side, manlike, before blurring into the woods.  A split second later, all the remaining corpses fell soundlessly to the ground, puppets with their strings cut.  Violet light flashed across the sky uphill, leaving me with a purple after-vision.

I glanced at Chris and saw his normally tan face was pale.

My aunt was watching him as well.  “How did that feel?”

“A little draining, like a sudden drop in blood sugar.  Also, my vision was sort of doubled—my normal sight plus someone else’s.  I also don’t think there will be any more attacks from that particular source,” he added a little grimly.

“So what did it do?” Caeco asked.

“Chris’s dopplegheist or shadow self, lives, for lack of a better word, in that necklace.  It is spelled to be released when the bearer of the necklace is threatened.  The dopplegheist then deals with the threat,” Levi said.

“With supreme effectiveness, it would seem.  But how can it affect such violence?” Dr. Jensen asked.

“According to the book, the spell was created for a witch to form a second self, mostly for observation and to intimidate the witch’s enemies.  But in Chris’s case, and using that God Tear thing as a base, it has much, much greater power.  But it will always draw power from you, Chris, weakening you, distracting you with whatever it sees or hears,” Levi said.

“Then we must train you to deal with both the power drain and the distraction.  We will begin as soon as we get home,” Tanya said, back again in a perfumed swirl of air.

“You just love excuses to train, don’t you, zayka?” Chris said.

I have no idea what the word meant, but the super vampire lit up like it meant the world to her.

“Training is vital,” Caeco said.

“I like this one, Christian.  She is a kindred spirit,” Tanya said, smiling at Caeco.

“Well, we need to be cleaning up this mess and the mess in the woods, then I’m to bed,” Aunt Ash said.

Aunt Ashling was right… there was a lot to do.  Rory and Levi disassembled the circle while my aunt put away her unused supplies.  Caeco, Chris, and I got the wonderful job of pulling the fallen bodies into our land and burning them to ash.  It was disgusting, and I couldn’t wait to draw every erg of power from the dwindling fires, effectively exhausting their fuel and putting them out.  The flash of white fire that consumed the corpses was so hot, it melted some of the rocks on the ground.

Tanya and Darci drove up the road in Darci’s cruiser to check the cemetery.  When they got back, we were just finishing up.

“What did you find?” Chris asked.

“A ritual space surrounded by twelve piles of dust.  Tanya says the dust was human remains.  We also found two rental vehicles with purses and clothes.  Addresses on the ID all down in North Carolina.”

“That’s where the book was found.  Several Circles of witches tried to get it from us down there, but I don’t remember their names… it was just before I got shot,” Chris said.

“Christian, do you remember the name that your little blonde cur laughs about?” Tanya asked.

“Stacia?  Yeah, she says there was an old lady witch with one of the Circles down south named Cercia Swallows, which always makes her laugh.”

“You laugh right alongside her, Christian,” Tanya said, her voice a little chill. 

“Well, it is an unfortunate name, you have to admit,” he said, mouth twitching in an almost smile..

“Was… it was an unfortunate name.  Found it on the license in a purse on the front seat of one of the cars,” Tanya said.

“Circle of the Eastern Star,” Aunt Ash said.  “They were customers.  Bought supplies through the website.”

“So you have two rental cars with money, wallets, and I.D. in a cemetery less than a half mile away, and no bodies.  That’s going to lead to questions, won’t it, Deputy?” Chris asked.

“It would, if the personal items were still in the cars.  I believe they are now missing,” Darci responded with a glance at Tanya.  “So the cars will be found, but nothing else.  Macomb Road is the most direct route south out of Castlebury.  Not unusual to find an abandoned car on it.”

“You have no problem with that, Deputy?” he asked.

“I have a problem with supernatural forces attacking my family, forces that could never be brought to justice the mundane way,” she said hotly.

He nodded.  “Yeah, I’m told I had the same issue when I was a cop as well.”

Darci looked surprised at that, but before either could speak, Tanya interrupted.  “Christian, we need to drag this Godforsaken book back to its vault in the city.” She turned to my aunt.  “Mistress witch, I have instructed my people to transfer payment to your bank account.  You as well, Mr. Guildersleeve.”

“But we never gave you our bank information?” my aunt said.

“No… you didn’t.  Christian, I want to get home so we can check on Toni and start training,” she said, gathering up the pail.  “Thank you all so much.”

She shook hands all around except she put the pail down to hug myself and Caeco, then vanished out the door.

“She’s not big on goodbyes,” Chris said, looking after her.  He, too, shook hands, but when he came to where the Rory, Caeco, and I were standing, he paused.  “Declan, remember what I said about choices and friends.  Caeco, keep an eye on him and you—” he pointed at Rory “—keep an eye on both of them.”

“Mr. Gordon, I’d ask that you test that thing we created a great deal more before burdening that poor wee girl with it.  You wouldn’t want to be causing a massacre at primary school over a harsh word or something, now would you?”

“Believe me, Ms. O’Carroll, I wish I didn’t have to put this on her.  And as my girlfriend indicated, my immediate future will be nothing but testing and training.  But when I agreed to be Toni’s godfather, I put her life in immediate and never-ending danger.  It’s already been proven that I can’t always be there to protect her, and my main job seems to be closing all these damned demon portals that keep opening.”

We must have frowned at him because he took a minute to explain that random portals to Hell were popping up around the globe.  They apparently were the result of some side effect of the Large Hadron Collider in Europe.

“Ah, Chris, about the portal thing.  What’s going to happen at Samhain… er… Halloween?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Samhain is the point in the year when the barriers between worlds naturally thins the most.  Won’t that have an effect on these portals?”

He stared at me for a full three seconds.   “Wow, that’s a little ray of sunshine, isn’t it?”  He thought about it some more.  “I may need to call on your consulting services again, Ms. O’Carroll, and your nephew’s, as well.”

Looking worried, he turned and headed outside, waving one last time before climbing into the passenger side of the sleek little Mercedes.  The engine revved and the car shot out of our parking lot, turning left and accelerating up Macomb hill.

With that, the rest of us said our goodnights.  Rory would spend the night with me in the metal man cave while Caeco and her mom headed home.  Levi left for his own place, and my aunt and Darci disappeared into their room.

Chapter 57 – Declan

Rory woke me up the next morning, earlier than I would have liked, his snoring sounding like a dull chainsaw unable to cut through a thick tree.

I threw a pillow, two smelly socks, and a sneaker at him, but the noise continued, unaffected.  I contemplated levitating him up and out the door, thinking that leaving him on the roof of someone’s car would be really funny, but I noticed that it had gotten cold enough to frost overnight.  Embarrassing my buddy was fine.  Causing frostbite, not so much.

So I climbed into sweats and headed inside.  Nobody was in the living quarters, so I entered the restaurant.  It was packed.  Sometimes, when we hang out our psychic do not disturb sign, it has almost the opposite effect when we take it down.  Like unnaturally driving people away brings them back in droves when you stop.  Rory says it’s a supernatural return to the mean.  That’s too much math for me, but I get his point.

The place was jumping. Every table was full, and I could see my aunt across the main dining room, her back to the big picture window. She was talking to a table of people, but I couldn’t see who they were.  I snagged a mug and filled it with coffee, mixing in lots of sugar and cream, then turned to sneak back out.  From across the room, my aunt’s gaze pinned me in place.  She waved me over, a glint of something in her eyes.

Wondering if I had left a random body part from one of the revenants lying around, I crossed the main room slowly, pausing to return greetings from some of the regulars who were enjoying Sunday breakfast.

As I got closer, I could see that there were four people at the table, and then I could see that they were all women.  Young ones.  A blonde, a brunette, a bottle-bright redhead and… oh, shit… a girl with black hair.  I froze in place, unable to take a step forward, then started to pull power.

My aunt’s head snapped up and she made a short, sharp motion with her hand.  The empty chair at the table just to my right shot out six inches and banged into my shin hard enough to make my eyes water.  The power I had been gathering fled in the face of the unexpected pain. 

The couple at the table with the chair that attacked me looked startled, but not unduly so.  It probably looked like I’d hooked the chair with my foot or something. 

“Sorry about that,” I muttered while pausing to rub my shin.  Straightening up, I continued forward to meet my aunt and the four other faces now turned in my direction. 

All four of the Sisters Eire watched me from their table in front of the picture window, but I kept my eyes locked on my aunt’s.  Her sharply delivered chair message had my full attention.

“We never caught up on your Friday night outing with yer lads, Declan, but these fine ladies tell me they met you in Burlington,” Aunt Ash noted.  She was angry.

“Rory’s dad won a gift certificate to Katie’s for the night they played.  We had a bit of encounter after.  With your guests around yesterday, I wasn’t able to talk to you about it,” I said, trying to hold my temper.

“We were a bit shocked to meet Declan when we did, but he was actually brilliant, coming to Ryanne’s rescue and all,” Aileen said in a smooth, even tone.  The four sisters could obviously sense the tension between my aunt and me but were gamely carrying on.  “Then we were in Williston last night, shopping for some of this and that, when we felt a bloody great Crafting froom this direction.  And another and another.  So we thought to drive this way today and find the root of it, ye see,” she continued. 

“That’s right, Ms. O’Carroll.  First, to meet yer talented nephew, then to come across such a use of power.  What are the odds?” Gael asked.

“Indeed, ladies.  I can’t find fault with your curiosity, even a mite.  But Declan, lad, surely we could have found just a wee moment yesterday to discuss your new friends?” Aunt Ashling asked.  I got her unspoken message pretty clear.  After all these years, how could ye fock this up so grandly, lad was what she probably really wanted to ask.  Five female witches waited on my reply while I looked out the window at the Rowan tree that had done its best to protect us.

“Oh, I’m sure I could have done better, Aunt Ash.  But you seemed pretty tied up with your clients, and I thought it a poor time to distract you with my mistakes,” I said, unable to keep my tone apologetic.  Her eyes widened a bit, but before she could respond, Mary, the really quiet sister, spoke.

“If ye had a hand in the workings we sensed, then truly you were Crafting at a level that none of us have ever seen before.  It seemed incredibly complex and easy to bollox.”

Breaking off her hard stare at me, Aunt Ash acknowledged the complement with a nod and a smile.  She pulled a chair over from another table and sat down with the Sisters.  I started to step backward, but another chair wiggled at me, so I grabbed it quick before it caught any of the regular people’s attention. Turning to the table once more, I found a space had opened between Gael and Ryanne, both of whom were listening to my aunt but watching me with smiles.

“Here now, we’ll just split him between us, eh, Ry?” Gael asked with a smirk. 

“Bite ‘cher tongue dear, there’ll be no splitting of nothing,” Ryanne replied, giving her sister a mock glare and tugging on my chair as if to pull it closer to hers.  I was very aware of her jean-clad leg almost touching mine. 

Aunt Ash had, in the time I had taken to sit down, deftly changed the topic from the recent spell crafting to news of Ireland.

“Have ye been away a while, then?” Aileen asked.

“A while indeed,” my aunt replied.

“Ye know our mum used to tell about a pair of sisters, one named Ashling, the other Maeve, who were absolutely brilliant at the Craft.  They disappeared a long time ago,” the blonde witch continued.  “You wouldn’t be one of the same, now would ye?”

“When I left Ireland, the elders always took it upon themselves to tell young witches who they could or couldn’t marry.  Does that still go on?” Aunt Ashling asked without answering the question.

“No, it’s knackered out.  There’s too much communication, what with cellies and e-mails, for the old bats to keep us under their thumbs.  We pretty much have our own say now,” Gael supplied.

A deep male voice cleared itself behind me and I turned to find Michael West standing about fifteen feet away, waiting to catch my attention.  I excused myself, moving to meet him.

“Have you got a couple of minutes, Declan?” he asked, looking over my shoulder curiously.

“They’re all witches.  All four sisters,” I explained as I led him toward an empty two-person table near the wall.

“Really?  Will you introduce me?  We’re always looking for possible recruits,” he said.

“Sure, but what’s up?”

“We’ve been doing our homework, checking into the college/academy thing that Director Stewart mentioned.  During part of it, I checked your school record and discovered that by the end of this semester, you’ll have met all your graduation requirements.  You can graduate high school early and we can start the program this spring.  What do you think?”

“What?  Really?  But what about Caeco?” I asked.

“Caeco doesn’t have any form of a high school record.  We’re creating one based on her training and education.  Based on where she tests out, she would have likely graduated high school last year.  So we’ll just mock up a transcript and she’ll be ready, as well.  I already spoke to her and her mom this morning.  Her answer was that she’ll go if you go,” he said, grinning at the last part. 

My head was reeling.  First I find the Sisters Erie in my dining room and now I had the chance to blast out of high school early and start college.  

“Mr. West, a fine good morning to you.  What brings you here today, sir?” my aunt asked.  I turned and found her approaching our little table.

“I had some rather exciting news for Declan, which I’ll let him explain.  I’ll just introduce myself to the young ladies over there,” he said, holding his chair for my aunt.

He fished a business card case out of his suit pocket and approached the Sisters Erie while I explained his news.

My aunt looked a little stricken, like it was bad news or something.

“What’s the matter, Aunt Ash?  I’m sorry I messed everything up with the Sisters, but I honestly thought they were just an Irish band and then I thought that guy was going to assault Ryanne.  I’m sorry, Aunt Ash, but I can’t ever sit by and watch that sort of thing without interfering.  I don’t think I ever will.”

“Oh, it’s not that, lad.  I know why ye did what ye did, and I wouldn’t want ye to change a thing.  But this news, well, I know it makes you happy, but it’s so fast… so unexpected.”

“Ha. You’re not ready for me to move out?  You don’t want me to go far away to college, do you?” I guessed.

She shook her head, eyes glimmering with unshed tears, and my heart caved.  “Aunt Ash, they gave Caeco and me the choice of where to go, you know that, right?  Well Caeco doesn’t care, so I’m the one who gets to choose.  I’m choosing UVM, right in Burlington.  It meets all their criteria, and they’ll just set up an additional training and living facility nearby.  So I’ll be all of about twenty-five miles away.”

Her eyes widened at that and she lunged across the table to hug me, which greatly amused the two tables of guests eating nearby.  I could feel my fair skin burning bright red, but I sucked it up and hugged her back.  Truth be told, I wasn’t all that excited to completely leave my aunt… aunts, and Levi far behind.  Burlington would be just fine.

Mike West came back over about five minutes later.  Aunt Ash and I were talking about finances when he arrived at our table, so I turned to him for clarification.

“Mike, there’s a scholarship thing, right?”

“Yes, Declan.  It covers tuition and books at the University.  Room and Board is at our facility, so that is covered by our operating budget.  Basically a free ride for you and Caeco, as well as some others,” he said, glancing quickly over his shoulder before looking back at my aunt and me.

“See, Aunt Ash?  It’s covered,” I said.

“So it seems to be, but what I was saying, lad, was don’t think you’re stuck with this program.  If it doesn’t work out or if you’re not liking it in other ways, we can afford alternatives,” she said.

“How?  I’d need a scholarship from somewhere,” I said.

“Ye got one, and its name is Demidova.  The money that girl put in our account is more than enough to cover yer schooling,” she said.

“Oh, so two weeks ago, it looked like I’d have to go to community college and now I’ve got choices coming out the wazoo,” I said.

“Timing is everything, Declan, remember that.  Anyway, no rush on your answer.  Just let me know when you decide,” Mike commented.

I glanced at my aunt, who nodded.  “That’s okay, Mike.  I’ve already decided.  Graduating early sounds awesome.  Let’s do it.”

His face lit up in a relieved smile.  “Oh thank God.  I was really hoping you’d say that.  Okay, lots to do.  I’ll be in touch and you have my cell number, right?”

We both nodded, and he turned and headed out.  An older couple who come every Sunday stopped to speak to my aunt, and I used the interruption to sneak away.  I made it halfway across the dining room when a pretty face appeared before me.  Ryanne, looking cute and uncertain in faded jeans and a light gray sweater.

“Declan, did that West man tell you?  I’m going to University with ye,” she said in an excited voice.  “At least if me application goes through.” 

“Er… what?” was all I could come up with. 

“Well, Mr. West explained his organization, Oracle, and said he could tell we were witches and the like.  Part of his gift, ye see.  He said they had a special program like, and that you and some others were in the program.  Then he asked if I was interested like.  I never got to University, what with touring with me sisters, but I could go in the winter when we’re not busy, then catch up with the others for the summer.  I could start in January, like you, right?”

“Wow, Ryanne, eh, that’s great,” I said.  She sort of shook my hand, a little awkwardly, and bounced back to her sisters, leaving me standing there, trying to understand what had just happened.

“Hey, D.  We got a problem,” I heard and turned to find Emilee behind me.  “Peter, who was supposed to wash dishes today, called in sick.  The plates are stacking up and your aunt said to grab you before you could slip away,” she said, tossing a white apron at me.  She vanished in a swirl of coffee fumes, filling mugs around the room.

The Sisters Erie were filing past me on their way into the gift shop/witch shop.  Gael tugged my dishwasher’s apron with a wink and a grin and Ryanne was smiling at me as she followed her sisters.

I pulled the white cloth over my head and headed toward my true domain: the land of towering white porcelain and glasswear, of steaming hot sterilizers and rubber racks, thinking that January wasn’t that far off at all. First would come Samhain, then Thanksgiving, then Christmas and finally, boom…January. And along the way there might be some work for Chris and Tanya… work that promised to be, at the very least, exciting. That Caeco and I would get to see each other at this new school and it sounded like Ryanne might even be there, along with what promised to be a whole group of supernatural teenagers.  Hmm, what could possibly go wrong with that?

Chapter 58 – Krista

“Hey Gill?  Sorry I missed you.  But you’ll be happy when you get this message.  Listen, I’ve spoken with the Sisters.  The bait has wormed her way into a unique situation with our catch. Shouldn’t be too hard to snatch him away from his other choice.  He’s got far more in common with our little Galway girl than a soldier.  I’ll give you more details at our next Circle.”

The End

Author’s Thoughts:

Executable was a risk.  But I wanted to find out more about Declan and Caeco.  They’ve been lurking in my head since our family visited Ireland two years ago.  I also wanted Chris and Tanya’s fans to get a look at them from another’s point of view.

As usual, Susan Gottfried has had her hands full trying to keep my words presentable.  Any editing errors still existing are my own. 

Once again Ryan Bibby has produced a great little bit of cover art.  My thanks.

Zach and Steve from Kelevra Krav Maga opened my eyes to this deadly Isreali system.  The Sisters Erie were born as characters during an Irish Festival while watching the thoroughly entertaining Screaming Orphans, who I am certain are not witches, although very magical.

Thanks to my fans for staying with the series.  And thanks most of all to my wife and daughters for all their support and love.

Now on to Forced Ascent.