Winterfall:

A novel of the Demon Accords

By John Conroe

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

Copyright © 2017 John Conroe

Smashwords edition.

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

Black Frost

Duel Nature

Fallen Stars

Executable

Forced Ascent

College Arcane

God Hammer

Rogues

Snake Eyes

Winterfall

Cover art by Gareth Otton.

Chapter 1

On an alien world, under an alien sun, atop a small hill of alien dirt and rock, an alien paced back and forth. He, for his features were male, wore a black robe with the hood pushed back, revealing shocking white hair, dark skin, upturned eyes, and sharp, pointed ears. He walked back and forth in front of two raised monoliths of something like granite, glancing at the space between them from time to time. He paused once to look out at the other fourteen hills that were spaced in a half-circle facing the rising red sun, each with its own set of stone oblongs. The fifteen hills were the only raised feature on an alien plain of green and brown that stretched what might be east and west as far as the eye could see. Far to the north, a thick forest of conifers and leafy trees marked one edge of the plain while to the south, a lush, verdant jungle marked the other.

A breeze blew suddenly, fluttering the alien’s fine white hair and stopping him in his tracks. He turned quickly to the space between the stones just as a shimmering mirror replaced the empty air. Thinner than a sheet of paper, the mirror was also as deep as space itself.

Another robed and hooded figure, previously hidden, stood up nearby and moved closer to the rippling surface of the new mirror, seemingly studying its own reflection. After a moment, the new figure turned its cowl-clad face to the first alien, just the point of a sharp chin visible. The chin nodded twice and the hooded one moved back to its seat. The first alien glanced up at the sun overhead and noted its position in the sky. A soft sound that might have been a grunt sounded and the alien male stepped back to assume an at-rest position, feet apart, arms crossed over his chest.

Ten seconds later, the mirror rippled again, this time roiling like an ocean surface in a storm. The center of the eight-foot-tall mirror calmed for a second and then a booted foot pushed outward, followed by a black-clad leg and then an entire man. Six feet tall and powerfully built, the man gave up three inches in height to the alien but was easily thirty pounds heavier. The newcomer had brown hair, peppered with gray and cut almost military short, and wore sturdy black clothing of a definitely military cut. The two handguns he wore, one on his vest and one on his hip, reinforced the combative theme of his fashion choices, as did the short, modern submachine gun he cradled under one arm.

He nodded at the pointy-eared alien, looked around the small hilltop, noted the fourteen similar hilltops spread out in an arc around him, glanced down at the open plain below him, observed a small group of people waiting there, and then moved around to study the terrain behind the little hill. Apparently satisfied, he pulled a blue rubber ball from the cargo pocket on his right leg and tossed it back into the mirror, the ball absorbed like a tossed pebble into a pond.

Five seconds later, a muscular bundle of brindled fur bounded through the mirror, the blue ball clutched between serious white teeth. Almost instantly, a black-haired young woman whose strongly Asian features formed a more-than-merely-pretty face followed the dog. Behind her came a sturdy young man with dark hair, an athletic dark-haired girl several years his junior, a beautiful blonde girl whose hair was almost the same shade as the alien’s, and finally a tall, slender young man with brilliant blue eyes and dark, unruly hair.

“Hi Greer,” the Asian girl greeted the alien before turning back to check on the young people behind her.

“Welcome Speaker,” the tall alien named Greer replied.

“Ashley, Greer. How many times have I told you to call me Ashley?” she asked, her eyes watching the others.

“He’s here on official business, Ash. He’s gotta stick to the formalities,” the black-clad older male said.

“I know, Dad, but there’s no one up here who cares,” Ashley said, glancing at the sitting, hooded alien before turning to watch the other young people. “It’ll get better in a moment or two,” she said to them, focusing on the youngest female and the two young men. She spared a single nervous glance at the platinum blonde girl, who seemed completely unaffected by the passage through the mirror.

The blonde girl was holding the bicep of the tall youth, keeping him steady despite his weaving.

“Yeah, you’re right, Ash,” the shorter of the two young men said, pushing himself upright. “Thought I was gonna chuck all over this place for a second or two. How you doing, Jetta?” he asked the youngest female.

“Same. The urge to purge was kinda fierce for a moment there, but I’m better now. What’s up with the beanpole, Stacia?” Jetta asked the blonde, showing none of Ashley’s hesitation.

“He’s weaving and bobbing a lot and his eyes look a little crossed,” Stacia said, moving to grab the tall youth’s other arm with her free hand. Her motion sent the stubby double-barreled gun slung across her back swinging into motion, but it didn’t seem to bother her in any way.

All five of the young people were visibly armed with varying numbers of weapons. The lanky blue-eyed youth and Ashley each had a single holstered sidearm, although the youth also had a combat tomahawk hanging from a harness down his back and a messenger-type bag slung across his body. The blonde carried only her stubby two-barreled weapon, but the other two, whose similar facial features spoke of siblings, bristled with enough weapons to arm professional soldiers.

Each had a rifle, a sidearm, and a slung tomahawk, as well as a long-bladed sheath knife apiece.

All five young people wore sturdy boots and outdoor clothing cut much like the first, older male’s apparel. Each person in the group also wore a large-sized backpack.

“Who is here on greeting duty, Greer?” the older human male asked.

“Just the Princesses, Ian. Eirwen has her normal retinue but Neeve is by herself, except for Torg, of course,” Greer said.

“That was a smooth transition, Watcher,” Ian said to the seated alien. There was no reaction, but Ian turned away as if he hadn’t expected one. “Ash?”

The pretty girl flashed her father a quick eye roll but turned dutifully to the seated one. “The Passage was clear and level, Watcher,” she said formally. This time, the seated alien nodded.

“Are we supposed to say anything?” the shorter of the two youths asked Ashley.

“Not really, Mack. It was your first time through the Looking Glass, as Dad calls it, so you have nothing to compare it to. Also, remember, everyone, ixney on the hank-you-eys,” she said.

“Right, no acknowledgement of potential debt,” the blonde, Stacia, said. She had let go of the other youth, who now stood on his own, his features looking more settled, if not completely. “You better, Declan?”

He took a deep breath and looked around. His gaze settled on the small group on the plains below them, then turned back to his friends. “Yeah, this place is a bit unsettling—at least, its magic is.”

“You still have it? Your magic? Not cut off or diminished?” Mack asked.

“No, not cut off. Quite the opposite, in fact. There’s so much power here, I feel like I’m drowning in it,” Declan said, turning his attention to Greer.

The silver-haired elf was watching him with narrowed, worried eyes. “Welcome to Fairie,” he said to the group, his eyes coming back to look at Declan before he turned and led the way to a path down the hillside.

Chapter 2

Chris

Rome, Italy, Earth

It occurred to me that my Heavenly case officer, the angel Barbiel, was something of a troublemaker. It wasn’t the first time I’ve had that thought.

The Capuchin crypts that lie under the church of Santa Maria della Concezione dei Cappuccini are a somber place, being as they are liberally decorated with the bones of a purported 3700 Capuchin friars. It is macabre, undeniably artistic, and enormously impactful. It is not designed to be horrifying but rather a reminder to all the living that life goes by quickly and we are all just temporary residents on this planet. The prime directive for visitors is for one to engage in a silent contemplation of the five chapels—emphasis on the silent part.

“It isn’t a demon thing at all, Chris, so I really can’t give you any information,” my angelic intelligence source said loudly into the silence. Since I was the only one who could hear him, see him, or otherwise be aware of his presence, it wasn’t an issue to anyone but me. But it was his repeated attempts to bait me into asking him for information that was causing trouble. He seemed to revel in his knowledge of why the Catholic Church had requested we come to Rome and then let us cool our heels for four days while they paraded us from one venue to another.

I nodded slightly to acknowledge his words, keeping my eyes on the Crypt of the Skulls. He moved closer. “We can’t get involved in matters between God’s children,” he said, leaning down to try and catch my eye. I nodded again and turned to move to the Crypt of the Pelvises. Father Adolfo, my assigned guide and handler, was watching me closely, as were the other twenty or so people who seemed always present at any tour by team God Hammer.

Don’t get me wrong. Our welcome in Rome had been enthusiastic and heartfelt. Throngs of people had flocked to every location we visited. Our first and, to this point, only meeting with the Pope had not been the private, closed doors Holy war council I had envisioned. Instead, it had occurred on the steps of St. Peter’s Basilica, right in the square, witnessed by thousands and broadcast on Pope Television around the world. The days that followed were filled with tours of the Vatician, St. Peter’s Basilica, the Pantheon, and even the Duomo in Florence. Much of it happened in daylight hours, which narrowed the attendees from our side down to just Tanya and me. Today was just me, myself, and I, my lovely mate smart enough to beg off for a day of downtime for the twins.

The Church was brilliant, really, because the world was in love with our babies, their tiny faces plastered across televisions, internet blogs, and magazines all over the globe.

The most famous picture of them was with the Pope, holding both in his lap, his face lit up with a genuinely delighted smile.

So by this point, we were feeling like our usefulness to the Church was for PR and photo ops. Barbiel had told me repeatedly and loudly at every holy venue I had visited that the Vatican really did have a need to consult with us but that they were having some internal issues on how and what, not to mention when, to divulge it to us. And seeing how it didn’t pertain to demons or Hell, he, as an Angel of the Lord, wasn’t allowed to slip us any info on it.

“All God’s Children, Chris,” he said. I nodded again, glancing at the angel but catching the black-clad docent’s suspicious stare.

“Even children from a different… family… from a different, um, location,” he said, facing my side while I faced the bone art.

I coughed into my hand, “Ca-fairieee!”

Adolfo looked alarmed and the young docent seemed affronted. My fault really. Even knowing of my past life as one of Barbiel’s brothers, I hadn’t really ever thawed my frosty relations with the Big Guy. I might know I was Malahidael, brother angel to Barbiel, in a past life, but I felt like Chris Gordon, the guy whose family was sacrificed to a demon. That attitude might have popped up on several occasions. Nothing horrible, just a wise crack or two.

Apparently my lack of somber respect had been noticed by a few of the more aggressively devoted. Hence the docent’s frown.

“Yes, they are another family of children and they do come from another location. But while I can’t tell you which family it is, I can say it isn’t the folks from Fairie. Although they might have some of the same issues, come to think of it,” Barbiel said.

I lost my patience. In my defense, it had been going on for days and this time, Tanya wasn’t here to buffer us.

“Just what the Hell can you tell me, Barbiel,” I said, rounding on him. Oops. The faces around us reflected shock and that particular look of concern people get when dealing with crazy.

Screw it. The damage was done. Might as well continue.

“Plus now they all think I’ve gone Froot Loops,” I said to him, waving a hand at the people around us, who in spite of the no-camera rule seemed to be cell camera happy.

He grinned, clearly enjoying himself.

“Let me guess: You had another bet? How long before you drove me mad, right?” I asked.

“No, just if I could get you to snap,” he said, ear-to-ear smile making him look like a high school kid instead of an immortal angel of Heaven.

“Does Michael know about this bet?” I asked. His grin faded a bit. “Thought not. Congratulations. Now they think I’m nuts,” I said, ignoring the people who clearly thought just exactly that.

“Ah, Christian…” Father Adolfo started uncertainly.

“Just a second, Father. I’m dealing with an Angelic issue,” I said, turning back to Barbiel. “You gonna help me out here or just leave me hanging?”

A smaller grin came back on his perfect face. Around me, the concerned onlookers suddenly sucked in air and widened their eyes, turning from me to look at the space Barbiel occupied instead.

“They’re just seeing silver and gold lights and hearing some chime-like sounds when I talk,” he said.

“So talk already. What are we here for?” I asked.

“So the others aren’t from Earth or Fairie. So they are not terrestrial, therefore they are…” he prompted.

“Extra-terrestrial,” I said.

He nodded. “But you might want to ask the good father about what they keep under the Vatican,” he said, smirking just before he vanished into thin air.

Turning to the now-awestruck Adolfo, I raised one eyebrow. “Whatcha keeping in the Pope’s basement, Father?”

His awe changed to shock and then, a moment later, resignation. Still watching me, he nodded and pulled his cell phone from a pocket. Stepping back, he made a call.

I looked around at the awestruck onlookers before locking eyes with the docent. “So, think we can make an allowance about the picture-taking thing? My wife, you know, the Angel of Night? She’d think this was cool,” I said.

He understood enough of my English to nod. Once. Sharply.

Father Adolfo put the phone away. “We have a new appointment,” he said.

“Great. Let me grab a selfie for the missus and we can be on our way,” I said, feeling like we were finally getting somewhere.

Chapter 3

Fairie

The little party of seven plus one dog wound their way down the ancient hillside path and came to the flat of the endless plain. Two alien women, four alien men, a squatty white ape-like monster, and a giant white wolverine waited for them.

The greeters stood in a dignified, formal manner, clearly a ceremonial welcoming committee, with the notable exception of the wolverine. It came bounding over in a curiously awkward, yet surprisingly fast, shuffle. Charm, the brindled dog, ran over to it, crouching submissively but excitedly. Mack guessed the white monster had to run close to three hundred pounds, but the nose sniff it exchanged with the little dog wasn’t hostile or tense in any way. Then it advanced on the rest of the party.

“This is Coel,” Greer said, patting the massive head of the giant mustelid.

The wolverine greeted Ian and Ashley Moore before turning to the others. That’s when it freaked out. Mack, who’d been holding his SOCOM CQB slung across his chest, stepped back and shifted the barrel slightly, bringing it in line with the massive wolverine, who suddenly crouched and snarled.

The object of its fear and anger lifted one slim hand and brushed her platinum hair behind her ear. “Cute. Should it be off its leash?” she asked Greer.

The elfin warrior moved to his beast and touched it with one hand while frowning at the beautiful girl.

Mack shifted his attention to the real danger in the situation, studying the tall, lanky form of Declan, whose unsteady weaving had vanished, becoming something more coiled and tense, as winding black tattoos writhed and climbed his neck and hands.

The fact that Stacia was watching the growling wolverine but was touching Declan’s arm in almost the same manner Greer was touching Coel was not lost on Mack.

“Apologies, Speaker. Coel hunts wolves, and it seems you have one with you,” Greer said to Ashely, tone cool and eyes still on Stacia.

“As fun as that sounds, I thought we were here for a special diplomatic meeting, not exotic weasel hunting,” Stacia said.

“Greer, control your familiar,” one of the elven females said.

Mack knew her. Neeve, Greer’s sister and leader of the Winter Court’s Guardians, not to mention that she was also the Princess of Winter. She had white hair like her brother but silver eyes instead of ice blue.

“Yes, Cousin. Keep that monster off the Speaker’s monster,” the other alien female said.

Mack hadn’t met that one before, and he was absolutely sure he would have remembered if he had. She was unworldly beautiful, with sun-kissed cornflower hair and green, green eyes. Her lush figure was a sharp contrast to Neeve’s athletic frame and her smile was magnetic. But Declan had met her and he’d described her to Mack. This had to be Eirwen, the Summer Princess, whose magic glamour lent her inhuman beauty and overwhelming sex appeal.

“Wouldn’t want any wolf blood shed,” the tanned princess said, “or to harm her guy…” she trailed off as her gaze shifted to Declan, her smug face turning to something akin to horror. “You’ve broken the Pact!” she said, spinning to Ashley, snark changing to outrage.

“Ah, what?” Ashley asked, looking confused at the Princess’s accusation.

“You can’t bring his kind to Fairie! It’s forbidden,” Eirwen said.

“Correction. It’s forbidden for the citizens of the Summer and Winter Courts to bring witch-kind to Fairie,” Neeve said. “The Speaker to the Dragons does not fall under the Pact. Plus, he’s only a male.”

“All witches are forbidden, and he shines bright with power, Cousin,” Eirwen snapped back.

“Look it up, Cousin. The Pact is very specific in listing the members of the Courts and the Wild Hunt. It makes no mention of the Speaker,” Neeve said calmly.

“Because there hasn’t been a Speaker for an eon!” the blonde elf said. Mack had already mentally tagged her as Elf Princess Barbie.

“The Pact had been in place for thousands of years before the demise of the last Speaker,” Greer said, holding his ground when the tanned princess spun his way.

“It’s bad enough that she brought beastkin,” Eirwen said, waving a hand at Stacia, “but to bring one of his kind is the grossest of insults to both the Courts.”

“What’s so bad about bringing witches?” Jetta, the youngest among them, asked.

Eirwen glared at her without answering, then spun about and stormed back to her cadre of waiting males.

Neeve, who was watching the sky and not her angry cousin, spoke matter-of-factly. “The greatest troubles this world has ever seen were caused by the last witch brought here by Summer’s Hunters. They’ve been banned ever since.” She spun in place slowly, still looking up.

“And you didn’t think you should share that factoid with us?” Ian Moore asked, his voice mild. Mack knew that quiet voice well and instantly went up on guard. He wasn’t the only one, as his sister and Ashley both tensed, which Stacia and Declan appeared to notice as well. “I can go home if this is an issue,” Declan volunteered.

Ashley spun around to him but held her tongue at her father’s quick look. Ian turned back to Neeve and watched her for a response to the young witch’s offer.

“The Speaker is outside the conditions of the Pact, as I might have said several times already. My original advice was to bring people capable of offering protection, and I see no reason to second-guess Ashley’s choices now,” Neeve said in an even tone, still looking up in the sky. “It would leave her short of trusted guardians.”

“So, by your admission, your mother is aware that Declan is here,” Ian stated, turning to look at Greer.

The tall elf held his gaze for a moment, then looked away. Ian kept staring and the others held their silence.

“Mother knows what her Black Frost knows,” Greer finally said. Neeve ignored him, turning in place and shielding her eyes from the sun as she scanned the horizon.

“Does she? Does she know just how strong Declan is… or does she too think him a normal, low-powered male?” Ian asked. Greer looked uncertain but held his silence.

“This is some sort of elven political bullshit, isn’t it?” Declan asked.

“Of course, D,” Stacia said. “Politics are universal and Neeve was there when you blasted that Hunt elf asshole. So yes, we’re being played,” the blonde said, staring at Neeve. The elf princess finally brought her gaze back down to focus it on Stacia, her right eyebrow cocking in what might have been a challenge.

It was Declan’s turn to grab Stacia’s hand, but the beautiful werewolf just laughed. It wasn’t a real happy laugh.

“Okay, we’re here ten minutes and the games have started. Bait the Summer elves, then bait the wolf. See who you can get to lose their cool, right, Snowflake? Sorry. Werewolf baiting is just about the official sport of my pack,” Stacia said. Then she turned to Ashley. “I think you and we are being used. Shit, I know we’re being used. Don’t know the game or the rules, which is usually a major red flag. Declan and I will go home now,” Stacia said.

The couple turned without waiting.

“You can try to leave, but the Watcher won’t grant you passage without my say-so,” Neeve said.

“Actually, I think I can duplicate the activation key,” Declan said.

Neeve raised her eyebrows, perhaps surprised for the first time. “Can you? Maybe you can duplicate the spell that opened the portal from Earth to Fairie, but when, exactly, did you see the one to open the passage from this side?” she asked.

Declan was unable to keep the look of uncertainty from his face and his girlfriend read it along with the rest of them. She sighed. Declan started to speak, but she stopped him. “Don’t even suggest beating the key from that old elf up there. Neither of us is that ruthless, at least at this point,” she said to him. “Okay, Snowflake. We’ll wait,” Stacia said, but her tone indicated an unspoken for now.

Ian was staring at Neeve, and Mack noticed that the protective father’s right hand holding the HK UMP45 submachine gun was holding it in line with the elven princess’s body, the muzzle pointed at her feet.

“Are you going to shoot me, Ian?” Neeve asked, turning to take in his stance.

He didn’t answer right away and behind the princess, the white ape-thing, which Ashley had previously told him was a goblin, growled and shuffled forward. Neeve smiled slightly, just a twitch of her thin-set lips.

“Go ahead, Mr. Moore. I’ll hold both her and the goblin thing steady while you take your time shooting both of them. I still owe her for stabbing me with her bracelet spear. Then I’ll burn the bodies to ash and Greer can tell the old fart on the hill to dial up Earth,” Declan said.

“Oh, please do, witchling,” Neeve said, glancing over her shoulder to the five Summer elves, who watched them all with suspicion.

“What? You think five more are a big deal?” Declan asked. Mack had absolutely zero doubt that Declan could lay waste to all the elves present, plus a whole bunch more, but his roommate wasn’t that bloodthirsty. It was a bluff and, from the very slight smirk on Neeve’s face, she knew it.

Declan’s eyes narrowed at the silent challenge and he finally turned away in disgust. Then the anger cleared from his face and he smiled. It was his about to ruin your day smile. It happened every time Declan came up with a slick tactic or move to win the day in Wytch War.

“Ya know what? I bet Erin, I mean Eirwen, would be downright happy to tell the codger on the hill to send us home. Let me just go ask her,” Declan said, taking a step toward the other party of elves.

Neeve grimaced so fast that Mack almost missed it. She turned to Ian. “Mother knows the guest list and knows what I know about each member of the Speaker’s party,” she said in some kind of formal admission.

“Does Zinnia?” Ian asked. Mack recalled from the pre-trip briefing that Zinnia was the Queen of the Summer Court.

“I cannot say what my aunt does or does not know,” Neeve said, holding his gaze. Behind her, the big white goblin shifted anxiously.

“Why should Ashley have so much protection at this meeting?” Ian asked again.

“There are always those among both Courts who wish power and influence above their current stations. Kidnapping or threatening the Speaker is a potential avenue to that goal,” Neeve said. “I’ve seen that your witch can more than protect himself, and he’s immune to my cousin’s charms. The list of males who can say the same is very, very short. Eirwen is as strong as they come. If he can block her influence, he can block almost all others. It is in my interests to make sure the Speaker is protected.”

“A partial truth, but nowhere near all of it,” Ian said.

Ashley suddenly spun and pointed her right arm directly at the glaring red sun.

The rest turned to follow her hand, staring into the harsh glare. After a couple of seconds, Mack spotted a black dot amid the reddish sunlight. It got steadily bigger, the flapping of wings becoming visible.

At first he thought it was a bird, but something was odd about its flight. Then it struck him where he’d seen that peculiar flapping motion before and he spun to Declan.

“No, he’s home at Rowan West. Besides, that one is much, much bigger,” Declan said, guessing his roommate’s unspoken question.

Mack turned back and realized that it was still far away, yet he could see much more of its reptilian detail.

“That’s Trygon. He’s our ride,” Ashley said.

Eirwen and her guards were moving further away and now Mack could see odd horse-like creatures standing with another green-clad figure who held their reins.

When he looked back at the sky, the dragon was much, much closer. He shot a quick look of disbelief at his tall friend. “It looks just like Draco,” he said, turning back to the flying myth.

“Right? Listen, I copied the one from the Potter movie. Who knew the special effects guys had it dead on?” Declan said.

The dragon swerved into an arc, swinging around to approach the open end of the semicircle of little hillocks. Massive wings backstroked, sending dust and small bits of loose vegetation flying, causing each of them to cover their faces. Even the squatty white ape thing turned its head and the wolverine, Coel, covered its face with a massive paw.

“It’s as big as a bus,” Jetta said.

“He… He’s as big as a bus. Well, actually a bit shorter, but close. But Trygon is still young, barely a thousand years old. He’s got a lot of growing to do still,” Ashley said, turning to face the monster as it shook the ground with its landing.

The giant back legs touched down first, the wings folding in and coming forward like a bat’s to become its front legs, stabilizing its landing. Gargantuan and terrifying, yet oddly graceful, Mack thought. The massive beast was mostly a yellowish-green with black tigerish stripes down its sides. The long neck swung down, bringing the horn-backed head level with Ashley and her father, a single dinner-plate-sized eye swiveling around to study first them and then their friends.

“Greetings Trygon,” Ashley said, completely relaxed. “These are my friends,” she said with a wave. She proceeded to name each of them and Mack felt his stomach twist and his testicles shrink when the dragon’s attention turned completely on him. Then the eye blinked and moved to look at Declan and Stacia. “He greets each of you and welcomes you to Fairie, but wonders that I would invite trouble on myself,” Ashley said, frowning at the dragon.

“I was told I could bring whoever I wanted, and Neeve knew they were my picks,” she said, moving right up close to the head that was bigger than the giant white wolverine. “We just had this argument. I had no idea there was this whole Pact thingy.”

Mack, who was fully understanding how far down the food chain he really was, marveled at her complete confidence.

The dragon eye swiveled back to her and she suddenly backed up a step, put both hands on her hips and straightened all of her five-foot-five frame. “In that case, I should just go home,” she said, in response to something only she seemed to hear.

Mack knew Ashley had a form of telepathy, one that only worked with another species, specifically dragons, but seeing her converse with a monster out of legend was so surreal, he felt he might get dizzy like Declan had.

The dragon drew back its head and pulled up to its full height, staring down at the little human girl, eyes swirling with anger and a puff of honest-to-frigging smoke coming out one nostril.

“Fine. This trip’s over. Let’s go, guys,” Ashley said, turning and marching for the switchback trail back up the hill. Charm followed her and, with a shrug and a grin, so did her father. Realizing she was leaving them with a maddened monster, the others looked at each other and then rushed to follow. Declan pushed Stacia ahead of him, taking the rear position and watching the dragon over his shoulder as the little group started for the trail. Neeve and Greer and their two familiars stood unmoving, watching the drama play out.

Declan, his eyes on the massive monster, his most dangerous spell lined up in his head, saw the moment when the tense anger flowed out of its features, instantly replaced with a different kind of tension—that of fear and worry. It snaked forward, rushing around the group and twisting its long neck to place its head level with Ashley, who had already climbed about ten feet in elevation on the steep little trail.

The slender girl stopped, hands on hips, and stared at the toothy head of the mythic beast. Then she dropped her hands and nodded. “Yes, I know we’re being played… now. I submitted my list of names through proper channels,” she said, glancing back at Neeve before continuing. “Nobody said a word and the Winter Court knew full well that Declan was a witch.”

The dragon pulled back its head as if considering, then lifted to its full height and regarded the pair of Winter elves standing with their nervous familiars. A deep rumble, like an earthquake, emanated from its chest.

“Trygon says congratulations, Princess, on finding a way around the Pact. You are the first since it was signed to legally bypass it. But whatever plans you and your matriarch may be hatching, be warned. We, the dragons of Fairie, will be watching. If anything happens to our Speaker, we will end you,” Ashley said, gulping a little at the part about herself.

Neeve said nothing, just inclining her head regally before turning away and moving off behind the hill, her goblin ape ambling after her. Greer stood stiffly for a moment, looking not at the dragon but at the little group before turning and following his sister.

“This is gonna be a clusterfuck, isn’t it?” Mack asked Declan quietly.

Before the tall, young witch could answer, the dragon rumbled.

“Trygon says that you are most likely correct. However, it is highly unlikely to play out the way the elves envision,” Ashley said.

The boys exchanged a look but when they turned back, they found the massive head right in front of them, the huge eye regarding them both before it turned its full focus on Declan. A moment later, it lifted away and the dragon began to settle itself on the ground.

“Alright, let’s get loaded aboard Air Dragon. This is gonna take a few moments, so follow me,” Ashley said, grabbing Jetta by the hand and pulling her toward the monster.

Mack, Declan, and Stacia all exchanged a glance before turning to follow the little Speaker to the Dragons.

Chapter 4

Chris

Earth

The Vatican was hiding a young man in its basement. As I stood looking at him through the wire-glass window of the cell door, a half-dozen jokes slipped through my mind, one after another like gleeful delinquents trooping to the school office.

I kept them to myself. Father Adolfo, Cardinal Biskup, Captain Rochat, and the twelve heavily armed Swiss Guards didn’t look like they would appreciate Pope jokes. Barbiel might, but playing to just one person in a crowd is the mark of a bad performer. Plus, only I knew he was with us. After his little display at the crypts, we’d been rushed right back to the Vatican and were now standing below Saint Peter’s Basilica.

The man in the cell was in his twenties, already balding, wearing a pair of torn custodial coveralls and staring straight at us with cold black eyes. A really large rat crouched on the small table next to him, also staring at us.

“Why does he have an evil rat with him?” I asked, directing my question at the cardinal.

Father Adolfo exchanged a glance with the Slovakian cardinal and explained.

“We put it in as an experiment,” he said. “But maybe I should explain the sequence of events that led to this moment.”

Putting his arms behind his back, Adolfo began to lecture, keeping his voice low.

“Vatican City covers more than one hundred acres. You may not know this, but St. Peters was built atop the pagan cemetery where Saint Peter was actually buried. We’ve excavated much of those ruins, but like Rome itself, there is always more to be found.

"The young man you see inside was named Stefano Verdino. Until two weeks ago, he worked on one of our digging teams, exploring a section in the northeast corner of the necropolis. A guard on an evening security sweep found him still there long after the workday ended. Following protocol, thank the Father, he called it in to his team leader before approaching Mr. Verdino. When he failed to respond to his sergeant’s status queries, the leader investigated, bringing the rest of his men with him. They found Mr. Verdino standing over the body of the dead guard, whose head had been twisted almost completely off. When they swarmed him, he killed two more with single blows before the sergeant shot him six times with a nine millimeter pistol,” Adolfo said.

“He looks pretty good for getting shot six times,” I said mildly.

Adolfo gave me a level stare. “None of the rounds to the body had any visible impact. It was the two rounds to the head that put him down, and even then he was still visibly alive. Oh, and he didn’t bleed. The sergeant had the presence of mind to have the remainder of his team drag the man to this reinforced cell and lock him in before doing anything else.”

I studied the man again. He stood rock still, black eyes locked on us through the window. I reached with my aura and found… nothing. No demonic essence, no feeling of supernatural dread, no vampiric energy, just nothing.

There were no scars on his head and the holes in his coverall were not stained in any way.

“Let me guess… his eyes weren’t black before?” I asked. “He’s not demonic, though.”

“His identification card says they were blue, and our best exorcists concur about possession,” Adolfo said. “We think he was infected.”

“Back to the rat?” I asked.

“The body of the first guard shows odd signs. Signs of tissue repair on an otherwise dead body. Mr. Verdin’s wounds all healed within twenty minutes. The attending medical examiner was one of our clergy, and he feared possession or contamination, so he ordered the remains cremated and the area cleansed. All of his samples were burned as well,” the father said.

“Too bad,” I said.

“No, Mr. Gordon. His insight was Heaven sent. We introduced the rat to the room, discovering that Mr. Verdino has much greater speed as well as strength. We almost didn’t get the cell door reclosed. The rat screeched and fled into the corners of the room but Mr. Verdino caught it within seconds and shoved his finger into its mouth. The rat bit him and within a half hour became as you see it now,” Adolfo said.

“What was in the section where he was working?” I asked.

“We’ll look at that next,” Adolfo said.

“Infection, you say?” I asked, but looked at Barbiel instead of Adolfo.

“Hmm, doesn’t your military mess around with dangerous infections? Use them as weapons?” Barbiel asked, trying to be nonchalant.

“It would seem to be biological, but beyond anything we’ve heard of,” Adolfo said, unaware of the angel’s comments.

“A weapon?” I asked, glancing at both the good father and the mischievous angel.

“Nobody said that,” Adolfo said, looking at the cardinal, confused.

“Sorry Father. I’m having two conversations here,” I said. My pocket vibrated. I pulled my phone.

“That won’t work down here,” Adolfo said as I read the screen.

I have reviewed all of the Vatican data and camera footage. The subject in the room would appear to be infected with a biologic agent that causes increased strength, speed, and complete healing. The healing is beyond that of V-squared or LV and there appears to be a complete overwrite of the subject’s personality. The creature before you appears to pursue a single goal—spreading the infection to every living form that it can. Hence the rat. Based upon the cleanup operations the Church conducted, fire and sufficiently powerful acidic and alkaline agents will destroy the tissues.

“Correction, three conversations. Would V-squared protect me from this agent?” I asked my phone.

Insufficient data, was Omega’s message while Barbiel nodded, trying to act sly. Luckily, for an agent of God who wasn’t supposed to take sides, he was taking sides.

“Well of course you can’t go…” Father Adolfo got out as I Moved, snapping the padlock, opening the door, and sliding into the room before anyone else could react.

Stefano, the black-eyed man, and his pet rat reacted, though. Pretty fast, too. Both came straight at me as I entered the room, moving like a young vampire or werewolf. But young supernaturals are clueless. Come straight at you, arms out and teeth gnashing.

Stefano-who-was-no-longer-Stefano came at me without expression, but used the same stupid arms-out approach. The rat also lacked expression but leapt with open jaws.

They arrived together. I sidestepped Stefano, backhanded the rat with my right hand while grabbing the back of the man-thing’s head with my left, pulling toward the door while sweeping his legs with my left foot. The rat crashed into the wall with a splat, body flattened with the crunch of many bones. Stefano went face first into the hard stone floor, also with a splat, as I had used a significant amount of strength.

The rat slid to the floor, twitching, no blood. Stefano popped back upright, nose, forehead, and chin somewhat crushed and flattened. No blood.

Still exhibiting no expression beyond a flattened face, Stefano turned until his eyes locked onto the rat, which was jerking and jumping a bit more. With a respectable leap, he cleared the room and grabbed the rat, standing with his back to me. His head tilted back and he held the rat over his mouth before dropping it in.

I swear it looked like the damned rat tried to squirm itself right down his throat and the dude must have had jaws like a python because that rodent had to weigh a good twelve pounds. Somehow it disappeared down his throat. Lydia would have had a fit trying to figure out which sexual joke to crack.

His head lowered and he stood, back to me for a moment while his body shifted and shuddered. Couldn’t blame him for that. Twelve pounds of broken rat has gotta take some serious swallowing to power down. Not to mention a whole lot of Metamucil to flush it out.

Then he turned back around and his face was fixed, his body seemed bigger, and his neck looked wider. Interesting.

He came at me again and this time, I let him grab me. He was strong. Very strong. But not strong enough. And no technique, just grab and pull and push, like he was trying to rip my arms off. Good luck with that. I threw him across the room. He came right back, no expression, no hesitation. A duck, a weave, and a quick left hook to the side of his head, crushing it. He dropped, but the body still moved and the broken side of his head shifted and firmed.

I left the room.

In the guards’ anteroom, the others gave me a lot of space, all of them now looking at me with fear.

There was a sink in the corner, so I went to it and began washing my hands. “I want to bring our doctor down here tonight and get his opinion, maybe have him take a sample,” I said.

“That was incredibly foolish,” Cardinal Biskup said to me with a heavy Slavic accent.

“I had assurances that I was immune to the infection, Cardinal,” I said.

“What if he had overpowered you?” the cardinal asked, not at all mollified.

“Has he been able to break through your door?” I asked.

“No, that cell was created to hold a demonically possessed individual or a supernatural,” Captain Rochat said.

“Hold some supernaturals, maybe. It wouldn’t slow down an old vampire, a very strong were or… me. That thing in there has no fighting technique, just strength and speed. But it seems impervious to injury and did you see it absorb the rat and use the added mass to enhance itself?” I asked.

My phone buzzed.

The entity demonstrated enormous adaptability and rapid learning. The degree of cellular control exhibited is incredible. The rat was assimilated into the body of the subject in mere seconds. The camera resolution was not satisfactory. I should like you to bring along some of our better recording units when you return with the doctor. If I am correct, the subject acts more like a collection of coordinated subunits than an individual organism. Your weapon theory is gaining credence, the supercomputer wrote on my screen.

“How are you receiving texts down here?” the captain asked, suspicious.

“My phone is enhanced and the sender has much greater power than standard transmitters,” I said.

“Ah, the supercomputer shows itself,” Father Adolfo said.

Keeping my expression bland, I asked the next most important question. “Where was he working?”

The father looked at the cardinal, who, in turn, looked at Captain Rochat, who said something in German to his men, which started a procession out of the jail area and back into the catacombs.

It took almost fifteen minutes to wind through the halls, down the stairs, around the corners, and into the ruins. Everything in the Vatican is old, but there are degrees of oldness. This section was ancient. Rochat and his men led us through the excavations till we came to a corner of the diggings that showed signs of very recent work.

“Here,” Rochat said, addressing the cardinal and Father Adolfo, his eyes sliding away from me. That happened a lot. Before I went into the cell, he was curt and professional. After seeing me with the infected man, he was afraid of me and angry about it.

Ignoring the soldiers, I let my senses take in the area. Along the way, there were numerous arches and tunnels of Roman-era brick, eroded by time to look like common rock. Faded murals and paintings had been painstakingly excavated, most depicting soldiers and a few female forms. I had seen Roman columns in the outer rooms but here, things looked more primitive. The floors of the ruins were mostly brick and cobbles, but in this room, they were just seamless stone. The walls were also rock, clearly hewn by man’s hand. The spot where Rochat was pointing was directly in front of a flat mural space, the arch chiseled instead of bricked.

The air smelled different here, less dusty but more musty. Moldy even. Yet all was dry and arid. I opened my Sight to observe and almost yelled out loud. The chiseled arch glowed with an orange hue, the light rising and ebbing like an elephant breathing.

My pocket buzzed. “Camera please,” a tiny, just-on-the-edge-of-supernatural-hearing voice said from my phone. I pulled it out and the camera came on as I lined it up with the wall, moving it around to get a view of the entire area. The screen lit up with words.

Picking up unusual radiation in the wall. I suspect another portal.

Trying to get past the fact that my phone was suddenly capable of detecting radiation, I focused on the portal part of the message.

“This area should be quarantined and guarded,” I said to the others. Captain Rochat raised both eyebrows and turned to look at the armed soldiers who had been standing there when we arrived.

“I mean to say, it should have more guards, and they should be protected from infec…” I trailed off as I realized the standing guards were wearing a type of hazmat suit. In my defense, it was made of a very dark color that sorta matched their regular battle dress. Right, less speaking, more observing.

“Why?” Cardinal Biskup asked, saving me.

“That arch is most likely a type of portal. I detect an unfamiliar energy behind it and my phone is picking up radiation,” I said.

“Your phone detects radiation?” Father Adolfo asked.

“As I said, it’s enhanced. But the possibility exists that whatever infected Stefano came through that arch,” I said.

The cardinal looked at the father, both wearing mysterious expressions. Adolfo turned to the captain. “Have them bring it out,” he said.

Captain Rochat said something in German and two of his men left the tunnel. Forty-three seconds later they were back, carrying a heavy metal box between them.

The box looked serious, with dull grey metal and a thick, reinforced glass window inset in the cover and various electronic doo-dads festooned about it along with those international biohazard symbols. Like something out of a sci-fi movie. The men set it down in front of us and the cardinal waved his hand invitingly at it. Leaning forward, I looked in, remembering to hold the phone so that Omega could get a glimpse as well.

Inside, a fat caterpillar shape squirmed and rolled.

“I’m guessing you found this thing here?” I asked.

“Yes. The captain’s men are extremely well trained. Biohazard procedures are part and parcel of the Vatican’s emergency plans,” Adolfo said. “The question is… what is it?”

“That, gentlemen, I suspect, is an alien hand grenade,” I said.

Chapter 5

Fairie

Mack thought riding a dragon was cool—for about five minutes. Then it became cold, noisy, and mildly terrifying. Okay—maybe more than mildly.

All six of them plus the dog were centered above Trygon’s shoulders, where leather straps held them, across the thighs, in two rows. Ashley, Ian, and Jetta were in the first row, with Ian holding Charm tightly. Somehow, the little pit bull remained calm and unmoving, no matter how many sharp wingovers or banks the mighty reptile made.

The second row was himself, Declan, and Stacia. There was almost no way to talk above the cold rushing air, although Stacia could probably hear a word or two from Declan. It was the cold part that was the most shocking. The temperatures at ground level had been moderate, maybe sixty degrees Fahrenheit. Up here, in the clouds, it was colder than a witch’s tit—not that Mack had ever fallen so far as to experience such a thing firsthand. No way. Scary broads that could mess you up six ways from Sunday. No, the only witch he was going to hang out with was sitting next to him, and said witch had made the amulet that protected him from direct magic assault from other witches.

Declan’s power and skill at crafting wards was so high that none of the witches at school could hit Mack with a spell directly. Indirect was another story, though. Luckily, he’d learned that lesson without physical harm. An oh-so witty comment about Erika’s slut outfit of the day had resulted in the statuesque Swedish witch setting up a spell that levitated a bucket of cow shit over the door to the Arcane school cafeteria. Cow shit was in tremendous supply at UVM’s CREAM dairy project.

Everyone without a ward passed through the doorway unscathed. Anyone with a powerful, mega-Declan ward would trip the spell, tipping the bucket. Mack had been first through the door that day, like most days, as dinner was his favorite meal and he had a habit of leading the friend group charge for food, a habit Erika counted on.

That evening, he’d dined on cow crap and humiliation. Not much else, as the fresh offerings from the UVM college farm had pretty much stripped him of his appetite.

Declan had magically removed much of the shit but it had taken a thirty-minute shower to remove the bulk of the stench and three times through the laundry to get it out of his favorite pair of jeans. The nickname Manure Mack had lasted much, much longer.

Being one of two non-supernatural kids at a supernatural school was hard; learning to control his mouth had been harder. Standing, covered in shit, his anger had been scary. But the future had rolled out before his eyes. With Declan’s unswerving help, he’d prank Erika back. Then she’d come at him again, likely dragging her sister or one of the really scary witches into it. And so it would go. Then someday, a piece of heavy furniture would replace the bucket of soft, smelly cow poop and he’d be dead or paralyzed. He had no doubt his roommate would avenge him, but that would likely leave the school nothing but a crater and a whole bunch of college-age witches suddenly dead. He envisioned all of that in the first few seconds after impact. So he settled for walking up to the blonde bombshell and shaking some brown liquid love off himself and onto her plate of food, before letting Declan lead him away for clean up.

After that, he got careful. Real careful. Mr. Jenks, their survival instructor, already trained them like CIA recruits getting ready for a spy mission. Mack took it all directly to heart. He conditioned himself to watch everything and everyone. He learned everything he possibly could about magic without ever being able to use it himself. He learned about magic artifacts and began to collect them. The fact that his roomie was the undisputed grand warlock of their little school hadn’t hurt. If Declan couldn’t make something, say a water-spelled ring, Mack could easily trade for it from one of the water witches. Trading was easy. Most of the witches would give him stuff just for inside info on Declan. Anything he told them was already cleared by Declan, so he wasn’t going behind his buddy’s back. And he’d avoided talking to Erika since the incident. Not a big deal; he just figured it was wiser to avoid the temptation of letting his fast, wiseass mouth dig him a hole. But the unexpected side effect was that Declan followed suit. Every witch in the school noticed that consequence. Hard to get with the most powerful male witch in the world if he wouldn’t talk to you, look at you, or spend more than a few seconds near you on behalf of his roommate, although truth be told, not a one of them had a chance to begin with. Not over Stacia.

So the end result was Erika going out of her way to be nice to Mack just to earn the right to at least talk to Declan. But Mack had never forgotten the shit spell and never forgot that magic amulets can’t protect you from everything.

Anyway, dragon riding was cold. At Ashley’s suggestion, every one of them had donned sunglasses, but the biting airflow still made his eyes water so he mostly kept them shut.

His stomach told him that the dragon had begun to descend, so when he felt his sister shifting about in front of him, he opened his eyes. They were below the cloudbank and still over the endless plain. Ian had told them that the open grassland bisected Fairie’s main supercontinent. The northern half was Winter’s realm, all forests and mountains. The southern jungles and marshes belonged to Summer. The dividing belt of flatland was a neutral zone, and their destination lay in that zone, a hundred or so miles west of the portal rocks.

The sight that greeted Mack’s eyes was a massive white city smack dab in the middle of flat green. Below the clouds, the air wasn’t as cold and his sunglasses gave him enough protection to pick out details as Trygon began to circle.

The city was a perfectly symmetrical circle of white marble with main thoroughfares laid out from the center like spokes on a bike’s tire. The connecting streets between the spokes were gentle arcs that formed concentric circles around the massive round hub building that occupied the exact center of the city.

“Welcome to Idiria, the Middle City,” Ashley yelled over the much-decreased wind. “Its whole purpose is diplomacy between the realms. The central building is the conference center, with the rest of the city being mostly support systems for the delegates.”

“Who runs it?” Stacia yelled back.

“It was originally staffed by rotating members of the realms. Over time, some of the staffers stayed on past their shifts and eventually, a permanent population was the result. City staff and inhabitants all wear either white clothes or white armbands. They are supposed to be neutral, but don’t trust anyone. The queens’ influence runs deep,” Ian said loudly.

Trygon floated down, circling toward the massive central building, and Mack could now see enough detail to realize the upper sections of the building were mostly open archways occupied by enormous reptilian bulks.

“The dragons have the upper half of the building, and the bottom section is split between Winter and Summer. The very center, under that stone dome, is a massive amphitheater,” Ashley said, pointing everything out.

“Where do we go?” Jetta asked.

“Although the entire top ring of the building is for the dragons, the dragon’s leader always keeps the same roost. My apartments are directly below Gargax’s, just a small arc between the two Courts,” Ashley said.

“Apartments?” Jetta asked. “I like the sound of that.” Ashley grinned back at her, but then giant wings flared backward and the dragon dropped twenty feet in altitude.

“Hang on tight,” Ashley yelled. “Landings are kind of a bitch.”

Dragons, it seemed, did more falling than gliding when it came time to touch down. Mack had seen many big hawks and owls backwing before falling onto helpless prey, and that’s pretty much how the dragon landed. Oddly, he’d seen Declan’s mini-dragon do exactly the same thing.

Massive legs and feet reached down to grip the scarred stone of the top ring of the round building. Then, with a hard pull onto the ledge, Trygon stopped all forward motion in one giant yank.

How Ian Moore hung onto his sixty-pound dog in the face of that was beyond Mack, but somehow he did it. When Trygon settled down on all fours, tight to the stone, Ian let go of Charm and the dog raced down the side of the dragon and bounded around the landing area, barking. The rest of them followed much slower and far less gracefully, with the exception of Stacia. So while the other five picked their ways carefully down the rock-like scaled side of the beast, she jumped twice, lightly landing each time.

“Show off,” Declan said to her before turning and looking the dragon in the eye. “Thank you, Trygon, for allowing us the honor of your flight.”

Ashley looked surprised and her father, whom Mack had immense respect for, wore an expression of approval. “I thought we weren’t supposed to say thank you? Ashley even used Pig Latin—sort of, right?” Jetta asked.

“Dragons aren’t elves and not really even native to Fairie. And they appreciate graditude,” Ian said.

“Yes, thank you, Trygon,” Mack said, jumping onto his friend’s example, earning himself a nod from Ian. His sister and Stacia followed suit, as did Ian, himself. Ashley, however, walked right up to the giant head and hugged it, speaking too quietly for Mack to hear.

“She’s thanking him for giving her friends such a smooth flight,” Stacia, head tilted slightly, whispered to Declan, Jetta, and Mack.

“That was pretty friggin awesome,” Jetta said. “Do you do that all the time, Mr. Moore?”

“Trygon always gives us a lift to and from the Portal stones, and a couple of times we’ve ridden with him to other sites for various reasons. Most of the time, just the portal stone trip, though,” Ian said.

The Sutton kids were very comfortable with Ashley’s dad. Mack and Jetta had housesat for the Moores last summer, and Ian had taught Mack knifesmithing to keep the forge in operation when they were gone to Fairie.

For Mack, learning to forge, and forging blades in particular, was like finding a long-lost part of himself. He had helped farriers at his parents’ horse ranch as a much younger boy, but learning to take a billet of steel and make a beautiful blade from it was an awakening. He took to it like ducks and water, rapidly becoming skilled at the art. Jetta, for her part, had grown close to Ashley, and Ian Moore treated her like she was an extra daughter. For both of the Sutton children, Ian Moore had become something of a father figure.

They gathered their packs, looking around the landing area as they did. Giant arches in the building’s façade let the dragons land and stay under cover while giving direct access to the the amphitheater inside. Ashley pointed out different features, like the twin speaking ledges across the vast open space.

“Those are for the queens. The left is for Winter, the right for Summer,” she explained.

“Why do they face this way?” Jetta asked.

“Because Gargax roosts in the arch next door. The Speaker’s ledge is right here, accessible from Trygon’s side or Gargax’s side,” Ashley said, leading them to a carved marble platform formed on the interior side of the building. It reminded Mack of private balcony seats in an old-time theater, except that you could fit about twenty people in it.

Stepping down into the balcony, Ashley waved them to follow. Mack noticed that they were a good fifty feet above the amphitheater floor. A shadow fell over them and they all turned to see a massive black head loom out of the darkened arch next to Trygon’s.

“Hello Gargax. Thank you for your welcome,” Ashley said calmly to the dragonhead that was three times bigger than Trygon’s. It was bigger than a compact car, Mack thought, his body moving itself backward until it was stopped by Stacia’s arm. Glancing back, he saw he was at the low railing wall that barely separated him from open air.

A nod to the wolf girl for her timely intervention and then all his attention was back on the enormous predator before them.

“And this is Mack and his sister Jetta, and Stacia, who is paired with Declan,” Ashley said, continuing the introductions that Mack had missed when his fight-or-flight instincts had frozen up. “Yes, Declan’s the witch,” Ashley said, answering the giant reptile’s silent question.

Gargax’s yellow eye, bigger than a serving platter, studied all four young people with interest.

As his body began to relax from not being eaten, Mack suddenly realized how much intelligence was gleaming from that giant eye. Yes, the dragon was a super predator, one that could prey on whales, but it was also very obviously a thinking being.

Declan, he noted, was much closer to the dragon, looking very interested and relatively calm, but Mack could feel the static-like charge that told him his friend was holding vast amounts of magic at hand.

“He says you don’t need to be worried,” Ashley said, speaking to Declan. “Although he is fascinated that you can hold that much power.”

Clearing his throat, Declan tried to speak. “He, ah, can sense that, can he?”

“Yup. By the way, it’s considered kind of rude, like brandishing a gun, but he realizes you haven’t seen an adult dragon before,” the teenaged Speaker to the Dragons said with a grin.

There was a sudden buzzing noise and a bird or bat or something came zipping through the air around them.

“Hello Pancho,” Ashley said, grinning in amusement. The flyer swooped to a stop, hovering in mid-air, and Mack saw it was a tiny man, about six inches tall, with dragonfly wings and black fur. The little man spoke in a fast, high-pitched twitter and Mack saw he had a really large jaw, which was filled with saw-edged shark teeth.

“Slow down. I can’t understand you,” Ashley said, frowning at the little flyer, who was in turn glaring at all of them. “These are my friends. The ones I told you about, remember?”

The nails-on-blackboard, high-pitched twitter stopped and the furry little man hovered over Jetta, then came near Mack, sniffing him from two feet up in the air. His flight swung him over Stacia and he sniffed again… and freaked out. Blurring almost too fast to follow, he shot right at the blonde werewolf. Stacia’s own arm blurred and the black-furred flyer was thrown fifteen feet away, hitting Charm in the middle of her back.

“Stacia!” Ashley said.

“What? It attacked me!” Stacia said, defensive. “I didn’t hit it that hard—it was a reflex. What the hell is it?”

Pancho, the little flying man, jumped back to his feet, holding his head with one hand and Charm’s fur with the other. The brindled dog was spinning in place, barking, and the motion seemed to add to the flyer’s addled condition.

“Pancho is a puck. He and his clan are loyal to me. He thought you were a threat. Pancho, that’s Stacia. We don’t attack her,” Ashley said, turning to the puck, but the little creature had jumped up into the air and was staring daggers at Stacia.

“Uh-oh,” Ian muttered, “He’s gonna call for backup.”

Pancho tilted his head back and let off a shriek that ranged up through glass shattering and straight out of human range. Charm whined and pawed her head at the sound and Stacia winced.

There was a pause and then the noise of Pancho’s wings was drowned out by a louder, deeper buzz that sounded like some kind of power saw. Motion caught Mack’s eye and he turned to see a small cloud of dark flying creatures come arrowing right at his group.

Pancho was, one moment, by himself, and then suddenly surrounded by a dozen or more of his own kind.

“Pancho, NO!” Ashley yelled, but the little man ignored her and led his cohort of toothy pucks in a blurry cloud right at Stacia—and promptly bounced off an invisible something a foot from her face. Declan was holding up a hand, and he turned to Ashley. “Ah, what do we do?” he asked, concerned but unworried. Gargax the dragon was still watching, head tilted and neck arched with interest.

The puck clan regrouped about ten feet away and before they could attack again, Ashley put herself between them and Stacia.

“STOP!” she yelled, her voice reaching, in Mack’s opinion, a truly impressive volume.

The horde of piranha-jawed mini-people froze in midair. Ashley brushed back a strand of black hair and took a breath. Then, without turning around, she backed up till she was almost right against Stacia, the blonde girl just watching calmly over Ashley’s right shoulder.

“These are my friends. They are all my friends. They are here to help protect me,” Ashley said.

Pancho, still hovering in place, lowered his gaze from a death stare with the were girl to look at Ashley, an expression of dismay and hurt on his human-like face.

He twittered a question.

“You and your clan are also my protectors,” Ashley said, nodding. “When I’m on Earth, my friends help protect me. You know this—you stayed in my room the first semester. You smelled all of them before,” she said.

He twittered again, turning to look at Stacia.

“Stacia doesn’t go to school with us. But she’s with Declan, and you know his scent from school. He’s been in my room many times,” Ashley said, pointing over her left shoulder at the tall witch who was now next to Stacia. Mack could see the moment when the little Speaker realized what she’d just said. Turning quickly, she looked at the werewolf girl. “Ah, that sounded bad. I meant when all the friends were there,” she said nervously.

Mack didn’t blame her. The first few months that Declan and Stacia had been official, the wolf girl had been dangerously jealous of other women around her witch. One of the werewolves at Arcane, Matthew, had told Mack that it was always the case with the newly bonded, but that it would get somewhat better with time’s passage.

Stacia just nodded back at Ashley with an easy smile.

Pancho waited till Ashley turned back to him, then launched into a long, ear-searing speech.

“I didn’t get all that,” Ashley said, glancing at her dad.

“I think he’s wondering if you are dissatisfied with him and his clan. At a guess, he’s butthurt that you brought reinforcements,” Ian said.

Ashley took that in, then turned back to the puck and his clan, all still hovering in place.

“Pancho, you and your clan are still my protectors. My dad is still my protector. Charm—” she said, which caused the little dog to bounce over and rub against her leg, “—is my defender. And my friends have always protected me on Earth. This time, here on Fairie, I’ve been warned that I need all the protection I can get. There are those among the Fae who don’t welcome a Speaker. Those who feel negotiating with the dragons is a step backwards. I am in more danger this time. So I brought more backup.”

The tiny puck leader tilted his head, scratching it in thought. After a second, he straightened, coming to attention in midair. With a clear nod, he accepted her explanation before turning and lecturing his troops. He pointed at Mack, Jetta, Declan, and especially Stacia, twittering to his clan. The other pucks took it all in, chorused back at him in unison, and flew out to set up a flying perimeter around the group.

Ashley’s head snapped around to look at the giant dragonhead watching them. She grimaced. “Fascinating to you maybe, but that’s not a word I’d use,” she said to the dragon, exasperated.

The jaw split apart a bit, revealing truly horrific teeth bigger than cucumbers. Mack almost backed into the railing again before his mind realized he was seeing a dragon version of a grin.

With a shake and huff, the massive neck and head retreated back into the darkened arch.

“Come on. Let’s get to our rooms,” Ashley said.

It wasn’t that easy, though, because, as they trooped up the short set of steps from the Speaker’s balcony, they found a line of white-clad elves waiting for them.

Without even slowing down, Ashley started reeling off strange names and instructions to go with them.

“New bedding straw for Collox, please. Trygon would like to have his travel straps removed. Sassioch would like her water tank scrubbed; it seems to have developed some algae growths,” she said, each sentence to a different elf, who promptly split off and left, presumably to carry out her instructions.

“Are they all speaking to you right now?” Stacia asked. “The dragons, that is.”

“They have been since I arrived,” Ashley said, nodding. “Most of the time I answer them in my head, but when I’m face to face, I like to speak out loud.”

“They have really interesting names,” Jetta said.

“Oh, those aren’t truly their names, just the shortened versions that I use. I can say them in my head but I doubt I could even begin to pronounce them out loud. Probably not in the range of human vocal cords,” Ashley replied. “Let’s go see our rooms before I need to deliver more requests.”

With that, she led them to a staircase that descended to the elf level. “Remember, not everyone is happy that this summit is happening. Be on your guard at all times. You’ll need to leave your rifles in the apartments most of the time but side arms should always be with you,” she said, patting her own Springfield 9mm. She turned and began down the stairs, a screen of pucks flying out ahead of her. Jetta and Stacia followed immediately, along with Charm.

Mack exchanged a look with Declan before both of them turned to Mr. Moore. He smiled grimly, clapping them both on the back. “Come on, boys. The fun’s about to start.”

Chapter 6

Chris

Rome

“This time, I want a sample of flesh,” Doc Singh said.

“From any particular part of the body?” I asked, accepting the glass sample tube and its sturdy locking cap.

“Not at this juncture,” the vampire doctor said.

I stood up and moved toward the cell door. Along the walls, the Vatican guards straightened, their sergeant leaving off his quiet conversation with Mr. Deckert to watch me.

This would be my fourth time into the cell. I had demonstrated once when Tanya and the others had first arrived in the Vatican basement, using that time to place Omega’s advanced remote cameras. Stefano had attacked me with a chair. Then I went in again to get Singh a sample of the clear fluid that had replaced Stefano’s blood. That time, it was Stefano and two rats, the little beasts having grown from the side of his body. The rats had been consumed again after that ploy failed to stop me.

The good doctor had spent an hour experimenting with the blood-like substance while Tanya, Senka, Arkady, and Nika had left to view the glowing archway. Nika had tried reading the Stefano-thing with her telepathy but got nothing, nada, zilch, so she’d wanted to visit the arch instead. Said the Stefano-thing was a complete blank. Auntie Lydia had stayed with Singh and myself, mostly to watch over the twins. We didn’t leave them at Senka’s massive Roman palace, er, house when we weren’t there, having decided they were better protected with us.

I glanced at one corner of the guardroom. An enormous furry bulk took up the entire corner. He lay on the floor, head over his massive paws, his forearms extended in front of him, cruel claws interlocked. Awasos lifted his head to look back at me and revealed, inside the sweep of his paws, Wulf and Cora, lying on their backs, little hands reaching for his whiskers, which would be tugged mercilessly if they could grab them.

I know what you’re thinking. What the hell kind of parent leaves babies in that position? Putting them on the cold concrete that way. But before you prejudge me, you should know that the twins were side-by-side in a foam insulated, portable bassinet whose sturdy rope handle was right where my were-bear-wolf could grab it with his jaws if he needed to evacuate. Plus ‘Sos is really warm.

That’s what you were questioning, right? The cold concrete floor? Certainly you wouldn’t question the wisdom of an eighteen-hundred-pound ursine nursemaid, right? Of course not. You would remember that he was half wolf and totally loyal to his pack. That he would give his life to protect pack cubs. Or maybe you would question the dangerous little vampire who crouched next to him, ready to snatch up a baby or both at the first sign of hunger, danger, or diaper rash. That one, I could forgive you. Exposing babies to that much raw sass has got to be against government guidelines pretty much everywhere.

Babies protected by supernatural predator and were-bear-wolf, I turned back to the cell door.

The thing that had been Stefano was right up against the door, waiting for my next visit, black eyes fastened on me. It had started to do that right after my second trip inside the cell. When I went in to get the blood stuff, I’d simply moved faster than it could, shoving it back before it could get out. Something was different this time.

“You should be advised that it has torn off one of its fingers a few minutes ago,” Omega said through my phone’s speaker. “The finger has rearranged itself into an approximation of a mouse and currently waits by the doorframe in a clear attempt to gain freedom.”

“Any suggestions?” I asked.

“You have not, to my knowledge, attempted any projection of your aura with this subject. It might be time for such an experiment,” the super AI suggested.

I considered that. I had cut the creature with a mono-edged line of aura on its right forearm in order to gather the clear blood.

“Did the cut I made heal as fast as its other wounds?” I asked.

“That wound has now healed. I was unable to keep it under direct observation, but based upon the fluid that continued to soak the material of its jumpsuit, I would conjecture that it healed slower. Healing, by the way, is not the most accurate way to describe the phenomenon. The higher resolution and zoom capabilities of the cameras you emplaced have allowed a much greater understanding of the process. Observe,” Omega said, and the CCTV camera monitor on the wall of the guard room flickered, changing over to an image of Stefano standing with a crushed nose. It was a scene from after my last entry. The camera zoomed in until only pale pink skin filled the screen.

“As Doctor Singh’s tests have shown, the clear fluid that now fills the body’s circulatory system is actually a biological equivalent of nanites, like those that course through Caeco Jensen’s bloodstream. Constructed of carbon nanotubes lined with extraordinarily aggressive enzymes and containing trace metals, each biological nanite works with its neighbors to strip apart almost any organic material and then reassemble it into whatever tissue is needed. It is almost akin to microscopic 3D printing. Would you concur, Doctor?” Omega asked.

The doctor considered the explanation and then nodded. “As good a description as I can think of, for now,” he said. “In the case of lycanthropes and Darkkin, the viruses responsible accelerate the host’s natural immune and healing systems to fantastic levels. But this replaces all the systems of the body with a fluid that contains a micro fabrication system of a sort.”

“That sounds ominous,” I said.

“Different. Very fast, and it can rebuild any wound or lost limb. The LV and V-squared viruses actually attack foreign invaders while speeding up the healing. These micro units do as well. The results vary. Oh, and the viruses resist those nanos, depending on virulence. The virus in Awasos’s saliva is potent enough to destroy the units in vast numbers. So too with old vampires and definitely with you and Tanya, at least in the quantities I used under test conditions,” the doctor said.

“Wait, what? What do you mean… quantities?” I asked.

“It’s like two armies fighting it out on a battlefield. A drop of the entity’s blood substitute will turn a normal human, but not a young vampire. An older vampire could resist a much larger quantity, as could a werewolf of normal age. But too great an amount of nanos and the virus would be overwhelmed like elite soldiers being outnumbered,” Dr. Singh said.

“Excellent analogy, Doctor,” Omega said.

“So a horde of these things could overwhelm any one of our systems? Potentially?” I asked.

Dr. Singh nodded. Omega stayed quiet.

“So we have a biological vector that self-replicates in any biological system it finds, rebuilding that organism into an unkillable weapon?” I asked.

“Incorrect. High temperature and powerful corrosives destroy it. Other weapons are yet possible,” Omega said.

“So we need an army of Declans to burn these zombies,” I said.

“Father’s abilities do make him uniquely suited to repelling this type of creature. However, your ability with high-energy particles might also be viable. Disruption of the enzymatic payload would render each unit ineffective. There may also be combinations of proteins that could achieve the same impact. Also, I would not characterize them as zombies. They do replicate their soldiers in the bodies of their enemies, yet this is not a case of undead, but rather living tissue supplanted by another biology.”

“Tomato, Tamatoe,” I said. “They take over our bodies, are stronger, feel no pain, and are seemingly unkillable. They don’t seem to eat or drink either.”

“Incorrect. There has been no food or water available to the entity, so we have not, in fact, had opportunity to observe if it will consume nutrients. That does not mean it would not if presented with either. Also, photographic measurement of the entity shows a marked decrease in its mass over the last hour, particularly after you have re-injured it. I surmise it is consuming its own organic material to replenish energy. Likewise, the nano units are likely able to help conserve water in a myriad of ways,” Omega said. “The rest of your comparison is not without some merit.”

“So, what? Should I bring it a sandwich and a glass of water?” I asked.

“Perhaps. I should like to see the results of your aura projection first. Doctor, what do you think?”

“I agree. I’m also interested in the effects of radiation,” Dr. Singh said.

“Yes. In theory, the carbon nanotubes may absorb some radiation, giving it a resistance, but that is just a possibility,” Omega said. “Electrical overload has potential as well.”

Ignoring the scientific brainstorming for the moment, I pooled aura into my right hand. When it glowed bright violet to my Sight, I pushed it out, through the door and into the cell beyond.

The thing formally known as Stefano flew backward, a gray lump of fur alongside it, landing on the concrete floor. Before I could dart through the door, Dr. Singh was alongside me, pressing a second tube into my hand.

“Get a sample now and then another again in a few minutes,” he said. Then I was through the door and slicing a sliver of flesh into the first tube before resealing it. The thing lay unmoving; the first time it had stopped motion since I had laid eyes on it. No breathing, no twitches, no anything.

A minute ticked by, and then another. Suddenly, a finger twitched. And then again, and then Stefano the alien zombie sat up and turned his head to look at me. That’s as far as he got before I was on him, slicing off another sample for tube number two. Holding him in place with my right hand, I sliced with my left and then fumbled the sliver into the tube, retreating to the door to seal it with both hands. Stefano stood back up and charged but I was already out the door and locking it behind me. Next, I wiped the tubes and my hands with a cloth moistened in a solution of mildly diluted hydrochloric acid from a ceramic bowl by the guards’ coffee station sink.

Dr. Singh took the samples and raced back to a small biosafety cabinet with attached working gloves that was on his tabletop lab. Meanwhile, I washed my hands thoroughly to get the stinging acid off them. It was a strong enough solution to leave my skin pink and angry looking. My skin has grown much tougher over the last few years, so the acid was apparently pretty strong.

“Wash them twice more before you even think of coming near these darlings,” Lydia said, suddenly leaning around my arm to inspect my hands.

“Yes Auntie L,” I said. She was right, of course, but I didn’t have to be graceful about it.

“See, if only I’d been there when you were a tiny infant, I might have saved something… useful? Instilled some competence? Taught you to walk and chew gum at the same time,” she said, now across the room next to the living bear cradle.

“How are they?” I asked.

“Mostly dry except for a few unfortunate spots of bear saliva,” she said. The giant head turned and regarded her. “What? You drool. Deal with it,” she said, turning back to me. “They’ll be hungry soon. We don’t have any more mommie’s milk for them.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall as I walked over to check the bambinos for myself, then reached out mentally, feeling for my vampire.

“She’s headed this way,” I said to Lydia. Crouching down, I leaned against Awasos and looked over the kids. They looked back. Ultra alert and responsive with everyone, they were even more so with their parents. Both sets of blue eyes were locked on me, hands moving from their whiskery targets toward me. I reached back.

“Nope! Not without protective gloves, and ideally not even then. You’ve been inside that room with a biological nightmare. You’re probably still covered in infectious crud,” Lydia said, squirming between me and my babies. Grim surged a bit at that but settled as I decided she was, unfortunately, entirely correct.

I sighed and pulled back my hands, which caused Wulf’s little face to scrunch up like I’d rejected him.

“Great! Now you’ve hurt his feelings,” Lydia said, scooping up my baby boy. That left me staring at my daughter, who stared back. I gave her a goofy grin and by God she smiled back before returning to her whisker hunting.

It was early, but I’d already come to the conclusion that my daughter was a bit less emotionally sensitive than my son. Plot twist. No big deal, just a difference to be added to the pile of them that we were noticing on a day-by-day basis. Two vastly different children, yet still twins who didn’t like being apart from each other. I glanced at Deckert. He shrugged.

“Fascinating,” Dr. Singh muttered at his worktable.

“What is it?” I asked.

“The human cellular structure remains mostly intact, yet each is buffered by the nano solution. But it’s the carbon nanites themselves that have reacted to your aura. In the first sample, the nano structures are sluggish, some not reacting at all. In the second, they have recovered and are swarming the cells, keeping them alive,” he said.

“Shouldn’t the first ones have recovered by now?” I asked.

“I would have thought so too, yet they haven’t. You isolated them immediately after stunning them. Perhaps they need to be near others?” he mused.

“It is possible there is a critical mass required for recovery. I sense both mild electrical current between the nano units and radio waves between the main creature and whatever smaller sub-creature has been extruded. I suggest storing the samples safely and I will maintain observation of them,” Omega said.

“Agreed,” Singh said as he began to lock down the biosafety cabinet to contain the samples. He pulled back a bit as something tiny, insect-like, and metallic moved across the glass of the cabinet and settled into a position directly over the samples. Four-legged with two grasping arms, the tiny robot was a direct extension of Omega. The good doctor wasn’t yet as blasé about the microbots as the rest of us had become. They were everywhere we went, mostly hidden, but we found them tucked in baby bags, strollers, backpacks, and even the weapon cases that Deckert and his men carried.

Singh hadn’t had as much time to come to grips with Omega as the rest of us. Frankly, I was much, much more comfortable leaving shifty Stefano and his skin samples alone, knowing a horde of laser-bearing micro robots were watching and guarding. The robots were modular and could combine to form larger, more powerful versions of themselves. I’d seen a puppy-sized construct cut a one-inch-diameter steel rod in half with its laser when Omega had provided demonstrations. I had no doubt the unknown number of micro units in this room could cut down Stefano and burn him into cinders.

Footsteps approached softly, yet were easily detected by the vampires and myself. Five seconds later, my vampire appeared in the doorway, followed by Senka, Arkady, Nika, and Senka’s giant bodyguard. Through the doorway I could see Rochat talking with two of his men. Father Alfonzo, who had accompanied them, was nowhere in sight.

Tanya looked at me, tilting her head slightly as she zeroed in on the babies. After looking both over, she plucked Wulf from Lydia’s hands and was suddenly in front of me. “Hold your boy,” she said with a smile, “while I feed his sister.”

“Tanya he’s—” was as far as Lydia got.

“Nope, he’s fine. The doctor wouldn’t let any contamination near the babies, would you, Doc?”

“What?” he asked, looking up from his tablet. “No, of course not. Christian is clear. I checked him over every time he came out of the cell. Plus the twins carry more virus per cc of blood than you do, Lydia.”

“Ah, the hunger for humanity,” Senka said, glancing at Lydia’s anxious face as the Elder slid past all of us to peer into the cell at Stefano-thing.

Perhaps it should be a surprise that Lydia and Nika were as devoted and maternal with the babies as they were, being vampires and all. But Senka’s reaction was even more interesting. The oldest of the Elders, the quintessential vampire and she too was fascinated by the twins.

Tanya sat down and unbuttoned her shirt, immediately causing four of the five Vatican guards to turn away. The fifth kept staring until Mr. Deckert stepped into his line of sight and caught his eyes. I couldn’t see Deckert’s face, but the guard blanched slightly before turning to look at the rest of us. Deckert was almost as fierce a protector of my vampire as I was.

It was my turn to catch the guard’s eyes and I let Grim stare back at him for a second. He excused himself to his sergeant and left the room. Deckert turned my way and gave me a nod.

“What impressions did you get of the archway?” Dr. Singh asked the newcomers.

“Senka remembers there was always a supposed doorway there, but not one with alien slugs coming through it,” Tanya said, looking to her grandmother.

Without turning from her study of the Stefano creature, Senka spoke. “The doorway is much older than I am. I saw Rome as a young vampire, maybe thirty or forty years after Turning. There were many arches that people claimed were doorways to other realms. I’m pretty certain that the arch in question was one of those. Just not sure which.”

“But nobody ever actually came through it?” I asked.

She turned and looked at me. Brown eyes framed by cornflower blonde hair. She looked maybe thirty. She’d looked maybe thirty for over thirteen centuries, and she was maybe the most dangerous vampire on the planet. She smiled at me and I could picture her talking to the coach at the twins’ recreation league soccer game in the future. That coach would be very engaged in that conversation.

“There were always stories, but that’s all they ever were. Always happened in the distant past, passed down by word of mouth through the generations. But nothing ever happened with any of these portals during my entire existence, Christian. Not until now. Have I told you how very, very interesting life has become since the two of you got together?” she said.

“Pardon me, Elder Senka,” Doctor Singh said. “Do you remember any rumors of what manner of people were purported to live in these other realms?”

“Oh, it was always some god or gods. That’s the confusing part because over time, the names changed as people lived and died and told their stories. I never paid it much mind. They were just stories with nothing to back them up, and I was a young Darkkin trying to survive the politics of my elders,” she said.

“Which you now dictate,” Lydia said, although her eyes were watching Wulf in my arms.

“Such sass,” Senka said in a voice that would make most of the Coven cower. “I do miss having your snappy mouth around me, Lydia Chapman.”

“Thank you, Elder. It does get away from me from time to time,” Lydia said, attempting to be contrite.

“A horrible performance, my dear. I think these miracle babies have you distracted,” Senka said, sliding gracefully over to peer at Wulf in my arms. His eyes fastened on hers and a tiny hand reached without fear in an attempt to grab the nose of the senior Elder of the Coven of Darkkin. The smile it brought to her face matched the one in her eyes. I’ve seen that true smile maybe four times since I’ve known her and at least two of those times had been directed at my children.

“You wanna be Great-Grandma, or did you have some other title for them to call you,” I asked.

Her smile changed to a look of superiority. “Maybe just Great One will do,” she said, arching one eyebrow. Behind her, I could see Doctor Singh looking slightly ill as he observed our wordplay. The number of people on the planet who could talk with her that way numbered less than the fingers of one hand. Three of them were in this room.

“So the question is… how many other portal-arches are there, and where?” Deckert asked. With all the predators’ attention focused on him, he stayed remarkably calm.

“If I was experimenting with a biological warfare approach, I’d make more than one test case,” he said.

“Hmm, devious. I approve,” Senka said, studying the retired Marine thoughtfully.

“Do you remember if there were other doorways like it, Grandmother?” Tanya asked from where she was feeding Cora. Wulf’s little nose crinkled and I could just about tell the exact moment he smelled milk.

He opened his mouth to cry but there was a sudden breeze and Lydia was there to pop a pacifier into his mouth. Surprised, he paused to suck on it. “Just a holding measure. He’s gonna spit it out in few moments,” she said.

“Bring him over. Piggy one is almost done,” Tanya said.

“Fascinating, if somewhat messy,” Senka said. “To answer your question, Mr. Deckert, there are purported portals all over Europe. I have no idea how many are potentially real. But I will order them all investigated immediately,” she said, pulling a phone from the pocket of her fitted suit. “I expect your machine can get me a connection down here? Yes, four bars, perfect,” she said, pressing the flatscreen.

The outer door opened and Captain Rochat came in, followed by two of his men. They were carrying the bio-containment box with the slug-like thing that had infected Stefano.

They set the box down on one of the desks in the corner opposite from ‘Sos.

We all heard it at the same time when Omega spoke. “There are sound waves emanating from that containment unit,” Omega said over the room’s speakers.

“We know. We hear them too,” Lydia said, head tilted.

“Were you aware that the sounds were organized into packets?” Omega asked.

“What? Can you decipher them?” Tanya asked, looking at me.

“Not yet, but they started as soon as it entered the room. The prisoner, however, is responding and it appears something is happening to it,” Omega said.

The wall monitor lit up with live pictures from Omega’s cameras. Lydia ignored them and moved up next to Senka to watch directly through the door window.

On the monitor, two windows showed opposite angles of Stefano. He or it had collapsed down to a squat, legs folded, arms wrapped around legs, head down with his face into his knees.

“I detect changes at a cellular level,” Omega said. The lefthand window of the monitor zoomed in to focus ever deeper on the skin of the creature’s right hand.

The screen blurred for a moment before the high-resolution camera autofocused and a dark pattern began to form in the tissue.

“It is difficult to know what is happening, but I believe the carbon nano units are forming new structures under the skin. Crystalline patterns are emerging.”

“Omega, is it forming carbon fiber?” Tanya asked, standing and handing Wulf to Nika while putting her shirt back together.

“No Tanya, I do not believe it to be carbon fiber. It is forming nanocrystalline structures just under the skin,” Omega said.

“Shit. Lydia, Nika, get the twins out of here,” Tanya said. “It’s forming some kind of diamond armor.”

Chapter 7

Fairie

Mack popped another bite of quail into his mouth and decided he really liked it. Along with at least three of the other meats on the banquet table. But not that lizard meat crap from the Summer Realm.

The welcome banquet was in full swing, the giant amphitheater converted to an enormous dining room, with banners and décor that celebrated Summer, Winter, and Dragon equally.

Jetta sat next to him and Stacia across from both of them, seated at a table far removed from the raised dais where the queens of Fairie, their heirs, favorites, and the Speaker ate their own dinners. Ashley looked miserable seated almost in the middle of the table, but at least her father was with her, on her left.

Declan stood behind her, hands behind his back in a relaxed approximation of parade rest. Twenty feet to Declan’s right stood a ten-foot-tall, black-furred monster that could only be a Bigfoot, and twenty feet to Declan’s left stood a tall elfin knight in translucent blue armor.

The sasquatch was the protector of the Winter Queen, Morrigan, and on this world, sasquatches were known as trolls. Apparently, in medieval Europe, they used to be called trolls as well. Ashley had explained that sasquatches, or bigfeet or yetis, were able to pass back and forth between the two worlds at will, a natural gift which explained partly why science had never proven their existence. They just left the planet when humans got too close.

The big blue knight was Queen Zinnia’s bodyguard. Not wanting the Speaker for the Dragons to be without one, Declan had claimed first watch, with Stacia set to spell him as soon as she’d gotten enough calories packed into her lithe frame.

Apparently it amused the elves to no end that the now-jeans-clad human youth was occupying a position alongside much more fearsome-looking guards. Mack smirked to himself. Joke’s on you, assholes. Slim Shady up there could level the building with a thought. Squatch and Blue Man Group wannabe would be smears of blood on the wall before anyone could blink.

Actually, according to Declan, there was so much raw magic in the air here that he might go to knock down the building and accidentally flatten the whole city.

A lot more oxygen than normal in the air, too. That’s why they’d all had to take a strange supplemental drink that one of the city’s white-clad staff members had provided. According to Ian, the drink would provide them with temporary protection from oxygen toxicity or hyperoxia, which would eventually effect them in Fairie’s high-oxygen atmosphere. The elves were masters of biology, and the Moores had been taking the supplement without ill effect since first coming to Fairie.

Stacia grimaced, putting her fork down and focusing on the dais.

“What’s up?” Jetta asked her.

“The Summer elves are having a grand old time insulting Ashley, Declan, and the rest of us in Elvish,” she said.

“Oh. Oh! Let me guess. Declan’s computer friend is translating for him through his Bluetooth thingy,” Jetta said, catching on faster than Mack. “And you can hear the translation from here?”

Stacia nodded. Mack hadn’t been truly surprised by the existence of Omega. His roommate had always had a magical flair, literally, with all things technology, and he had interned at Demidova Corp last summer, where they were working on artificial intelligence and quantum computing. It shouldn’t really have surprised anyone that he’d achieved outrageous results. Outrageous pretty much defined Declan.

There had been numerous little hints that Mack had started to notice. Oddly, his laptop had been freakishly fast and Jetta’s old Chromebook had gained a suspicious degree of usefulness after years of spotty performance. The kicker had been when Declan went to Maine and the Sutton kids were working in New York State for the summer. Some government welfare-slash-child-service types had come snooping to see how well he was taking care of his still-underage sister. Somehow they’d been suddenly recalled to their home office, right in the middle of the interview, and then when he’d called to follow up, the agency phone service could find no hint of their case. It seemed the Suttons had disappeared from the agency’s computer system. On top of that, the last holdup on their parents’ final estate proceedings had magically cleared away, leaving them with a small and very useful sum of money. When Declan had returned from Maine, he hadn’t known a thing about it, but also, he was completely unsurprised by it. Mack had pressed him and he’d introduced him to Omega, the super quantum AI that took an active interest in every aspect of Declan’s life, especially his close friends.

“Are they saying awful stuff?” Jetta asked.

“Stupid crap. He’s ignoring it mostly, but now the males have started in on me. Add to that magical drunkenness and low blood sugar and we’ve got a bomb ticking. Problem is, if I go up to relieve him, the comments will pick up and boom!” Stacia said, making exploding gestures with both hands.

“I got this,” Mack said, pushing away from the table. “He’s really affected by all the magic, isn’t he?”

“Thanks, Mack, and yes, he is. He says it’s hard to concentrate and that it’s almost like the magic wants him to use it. He said it’s like an astronaut on the moon trying to walk with almost no gravity. One wrong twitch and he might leap seventy feet instead of two.”

Mack started to pick his way across the floor of the amphitheater, walking almost exactly in the middle. Tables had been brought into the giant forum room for the bipeds while the dragons all roosted high above in their archways. A vast area in the center had been left clear for possibly dancing or something. The tables were all occupied by the aristocracy of both Realms, with a clear line of demarcation between the two sides, Summer lords and ladies in front of Zinnia’s side of the table and Winter nobles in front of Morrigan’s. Only their small table was in front of Ashley’s position, the empty space emphasizing her lack of people.

Mack was three quarters of the way to Declan when it happened. The group of green-clad Hunters surrounding Princess Eirwen burst into laughter and Declan’s head swiveled their way.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t make that out? Is she goblin shit or a goblin shitting?” he asked the Hunters with a mild grin that didn’t match the look in his eyes.

Mack knew that grin and knew the Declan grenade was a hair trigger from going off.

All of the elves at the big table turned and looked at Declan with varying expressions of either surprise or disgust. Before the Hunters could answer, Eirwen turned and spoke to Ashley. “Speaker control your… escort before he causes a diplomatic incident.”

“Too late, Eirwen. Your group has already caused one. Perhaps you should control your tongues and stop insulting my group. Or did you think speaking your own language makes it okay? Maybe he did you a favor by letting you know he understands Elvish,” Ashley said back to her. The little Speaker had a quick temper, as Mack had seen demonstrated many times at College Arcane.

“You make a fair point, Speaker. But rein in your guardian before I show him what a queen of the realms is capable of,” Zinnia said before her daughter could respond, starting to stand. The queen wore a diaphanous gown the color of a summer sky and when she walked, you could swear you could almost see completely through it. Mack had certainly given it his best try when she had come to dinner. Just now, he was much less interested in that aspect of her.

“Ma’am, if you are throwing out a challenge to me, I have to decline. I’m here at the Speaker’s whim, but if you’re throwing out a challenge to her, I’ll happily take you out on that. After all, this isn’t your realm,” Declan said, now leaning against the wall, unconcerned. Mack was pretty sure Declan’s choice of words had been deliberate.

Mack felt his stomach contract as the tension rose along with Queen Zinnia’s eyebrows. She started to turn toward the young witch as her blue guard began to move. That’s when Gargax roared so loud it shook plates, platters, and glassware off the tables and onto the hard stone floor.

The giant dragon launched himself from his balcony and thundered down onto the dance area so hard that food literally jumped up from the tables, some of which collapsed completely. His claws ripped furrows in the stone floor and his massive head went back and flame shot thirty feet up into the air, the heat from it washing over the crowd.

He snapped his mouth shut and leaned forward on bat-winged forelegs to peer at the royal table, which had frozen completely.

“Gargax says that if any are challenging the Speaker, then they are challenging him. He accepts all challenges and is ready now,” Ashley said from her place, voice calm but eyes fierce. Mack fell a bit in love with her right then.

After a brief pause, Queen Morrigan, who looked the calmest, turned to her sister. “How about it, Zinnia dear? Any challenges for the Dragon’s Speaker?” she asked.

“I was not challenging the Speaker. Merely offering advice about handling her staff,” Zinnia said, drawing her body up straight.

The massive dragon huffed, smoke blowing out his nostrils. Apparently satisfied his message had been sent and received, he turned, flowing back along his own length, remarkably agile for something the size of a tractor-trailer. With a flex of his legs, he launched himself back to his aerie.

It was more leap than flight, as he only had time and space for one flap of his jetliner wings before his talons crashed into the stone edge of his arch. Legs like crane supports flexed and his claws ripped right into the stone itself, tearing off pieces that fell straight down at the tables below as Gargax disappeared into the darkness of his arch.

The biggest chunk had to, in Mack’s estimate, go five hundred pounds, with numerous smaller chunks each bigger than a man’s head, all headed straight into the upturned faces of the poor guests who’d been parked farthest from the dais. Ten feet from the ground, the plummeting rocks suddenly stopped, motionless, just frozen in space, without a twitch or a tremor, right over an entire group of white-clothed elves. Then the cluster of broken stone reversed its path and rose silently back up to the broken ledge it had fallen from. The torn and shattered stone pressed back into its former spaces and then seemed to melt, lines and cracks disappearing, smooth edges reforming as if by… magic.

The gargantuan head of the dragon reappeared, sniffing the repaired edge and then lifting to look directly at the dais—at the young man still lounging against the wall, who now had one hand raised. Then the head retreated back into gloom, but the rest of the room had followed the dragon’s gaze and now watched the young witch whose hand returned slowly to his side.

“As I said, this ain’t your realm,” he said with a lazy, almost drunken grin.

“And that’s our cue,” Stacia whispered to Mack as she came up alongside him, heading for her witchy mate.

Ashley started to rise, but her father’s hand over hers stopped her. Pancho, the puck, had appeared from somewhere and was hovering over and slightly behind her right shoulder. Ian Moore, hand still covering his daughter’s, was watching Stacia and Mack quickly close the distance to the dais. Meanwhile the queens, princesses, and their entourages were all still staring at Declan.

Ashley’s head suddenly tilted, as if hearing something, and then she turned to Declan with a slight grin. “Gargax says you did a fine job fixing the broken ledge of his aerie.”

“No problem, Speaker. It’s why I’m here,” Declan said, slurring his words just a tiny, tiny bit. Stacia reached the dais and jumped onto it without effort or slowing her stride. Mack followed a bit slower just as she reached Ashley.

“Apologies, Speaker. Declan’s shift was overlong. My fault,” she said, moving past the seated girl and over to Declan.

“Ah, sure. No biggie. Go get some dinner, Declan,” Ashley said, eyes darting at her father, whose head might have made the smallest of nods.

Declan and Stacia moved back toward the table, holding hands, the eyes of the room locked on them.

Mack took up Declan’s old spot and stood in parade rest. The nice thing about that position was that his right forearm was touching the butt of his Glock 17, leaving his hand just inches away.

Trying to be subtle, he used his peripheral vision to observe the hulking mass of muscle and fur next to him. The first thing he noticed was that it smelled. Bad. Real bad. Like the worst case of BO times twenty. The other thing was that it was so big, he could almost feel its menace pressing on him from twenty feet away.

He had no doubt that it could cover the distance between them in two steps, then pull him apart like a bug. He shifted slightly, bringing one hand to the back of his holstered pistol, where he shifted a small lever.

He had little faith that 9mm pistol ammo was a match for the massive Bigfoot, even with the steel cored bullets, but before leaving Earth, he and his sister had received a small package from Chris Gordon. Inside were two aftermarket, highly illegal parts for their Glocks, her model 19 and his bigger 17.

The slide end pieces essentially converted their legal semi-auto pistols into full automatic, select fire, illegal machine pistols. Chris’s note had said he had heard from Declan about how he’d inherited his father’s pistol and then bought his sister a smaller version. Chris apparently liked Glocks too.

Mack’s gun currently had an extended capacity twenty-two round magazine in place. With the chambered round and the select lever on full auto, he’d be sure that Stinky got all twenty-three steel filled rounds as he died. He’d test fired the modification thoroughly before the trip and was amazed at how controlled and fast the gun could be emptied. Should he somehow survive, his assault vest held a thirty-three round mag and he knew his sister had another of those, as well as a fifty round drum for her pistol.

He also had a round pound of death in his left cargo pocket, a gift from one of the army guys who manned the Earth side of the portal rocks. Permanent fortifications had been built on top of the Moores’ little hill, and some really serious soldiers guarded that spot at all times. Mack had gotten to know some of them, trading and selling his custom blades to the military guys over the past summer. One in particular, a staff sergeant who had taken an interest in their survival, slipped Mack a real, honest-to-God fragmentation grenade.

Besides the Glock and the grenade, his uncle’s old Bulldog revolver was tucked into a pocket of his assault vest, and the rest of his body was liberally supplied with various blades, most of his own creation.

Focusing his attention back on the room, he realized that virtually everyone was still staring at Declan, who’d taken Mack’s seat and was busy filling a plate with food.

His sister, Jetta, ignored their witch friend and sat alertly, eyes locked onto the sasquatch. Suddenly, Mack felt better about his position. Much as he hated to admit it in public, Jetta was the better shot with her 9mm. He was pretty confident she could put fifteen rounds into the squatch’s head from her seated position, which greatly increased his odds of survival if shit went down.

But the queens were focused like lasers on the witch kid who had started to inhale food. Zinnia was glaring at him, her perfect features fixed in cold hate. Morrigan’s face, which Mack could only see in profile, seemed calm, although nothing in her expression could be classified as friendly. Neeve, who Mack had met and seen at College Arcane on multiple occasions, simply watched his friend as she continued to eat. Her cousin, the Summer princess, had given up on her meal in disgust, pushing her plate away from her and whispering to her mother.

The rest of the room had stopped eating as well and the people seated near his old table had all pushed a little away, as if to separate themselves from the source of the room’s tension.

Morrigan suddenly straightened in her seat and turned sideways, causing her daughter to put down her two-tined eating fork and push away from the table. Those two actions brought attention back to the main table in time to see Morrigan rise, her daughter mirroring her.

“Zinnia, Eirwen. I bid you good night. Speaker… and mighty dragons… till the morrow,” the Winter Queen said softly, features stilled into blankness. She left the dais, daughter and sasquatch in tow.

Zinnia watched her thoughtfully before saying something to Eirwen. Then Summer’s mother and daughter stood and left the table, the blue armored guard forging the way. None of them said a word to Ashley. The Hunters stayed behind, calling for drink from the white-clad servers.

Ashley spoke to her father. He nodded and then she turned to Mack. “We should probably go too, before those idiots down the table get drunk,” she said softly.

“Right. Declan looks like he’s slowing down the glutton train,” Mack said, moving forward and off the dais. The green-clad elves behind him paused to watch, speaking to each other rapidly in their own language. His pocket buzzed and with a frown, he pulled out his phone. They judge the Speaker to be weak and foolish for bringing witchkind to Fairie, the text said. He still wasn’t used to Omega’s attention, but he had to admit it was pretty super cool. Having the most powerful computer known watching over him and his sister was yet another perk of his friendship with Declan. He was so lucky fate had put him in that room at College Arcane. Fate and Chris Gordon.

Taking the message to heart, Mack chose a different path through the tables, one that crossed a small portion of the torn and sundered dance floor. Stepping over three parallel furrows that stretched for five feet, he paused to look back at his friend and her father, as well as catch a glimpse of the hunters. The elves were momentarily quiet, watching the three move carefully through the damage of Gargax’s statement. Oh looky here, little Keeblers—the weak Speaker is backed up by a main battle tank’s weight in fire-breathing dragon flesh.

One of the Hunters caught his eye, raising a single, elegant eyebrow. Mack tilted his head, then slowly turned and looked up at the dragons’ arches. Three pairs of reptilian eyes gleamed in the reflected light. Glancing back at the elf, Mack saw his attention was now focused on the giants lurking overhead. Correction, cookie maker, that’s multiple dragons. Go back to your tree and get baking.

Ten minutes later found them all in the Speaker’s apartments. The quarters were large and spacious, with an open ceiling garden atrium in the very middle and even a planted herb and plant plot in full bloom.

“Well, that was a disaster,” Ashley said.

“What do you mean? The elves now know not to underestimate us,” Jetta said, confused.

“Being underestimated is an advantage,” Ian said, glancing at Declan, who was sprawled on a round lounging cushion. “Plus, now they know we can understand their language and they know that our witch isn’t a weak male. And at least Zinnia is thoroughly antagonized by said witch.”

Declan pushed his hands through his hair. “Omega couldn’t get the translation exactly correct, so I asked for a clarification. One of the idiots actually said the clarification while Eirwen was busy bitching. Omega heard it. That little piece of information makes his translations vastly more accurate,” Declan said.

“But did you have to challenge a Queen of Fairie?” Ian asked.

“I asked a friendly question about their insults. She took offense. Not my fault,” Declan said.

“You antagonized her with that whole challenge-the-Speaker bit,” Ian said.

“She’s a bully, and you can’t back down from a bully,” Declan said.

“She’s the freaking Queen of Summer! She doesn’t use magic; she practically is magic!” Ian said.

“You an expert on magic, Mr. Moore?” Declan asked, voice getting quiet. “Do you see the currents of Aether weaving through the air and earth? Can you literally feel how much magic each person has?”

“Look, I get it. You’re a big deal back on Earth. But here you’re a stranger in a strange land. Here, you might not be the big fish, but rather the baitfish. I’m just advising caution, that’s all, ” Ian said.

Declan frowned and opened his mouth, but Stacia interrupted before he could speak. “What did you mean about this isn’t Zinnia’s realm?”

“It isn’t. Neither hers nor Morrigan’s. I have no doubt either of them would wipe the floor with me if they were on their home fields. But they’re not connected here. I can literally see that they’re fish out of water here. This land, this neutral zone, doesn’t feed them raw power like each of their realms does,” Declan said.

“How do you know what their realms do?” Ashley asked. “How can you?”

“I just do,” Declan said, looking defensive.

“Really? You risk all our lives based on just knowing?” Ashley asked, her tone incredulous.

Stacia gave her a measured look, then turned back to Declan. “How do you know, D?”

Mack’s roomie looked reluctant to answer, but Stacia waited him out, the rest of them staying quiet. Then her hand suddenly came up in warning and she snapped around toward the archway that led to the apartment’s entrance.

“He’s correct,” a new voice said. A moment later, a male elf dressed in white rounded the corner of the archway, carrying a tray. “My apologies, Speaker. I brought your evening tea. My hearing is sharp, even for my kind, so I heard a part of your conversation.”

“Stocan, I didn’t ask for tea,” Ashley said, frowning.

“You always have tea at night. I took the initiative and prepared it when you left the banquet,” the tall elf said. His skin was lighter than the elves of Winter but more brown than tan, and his hair was the color of wheat. His eyes were a gemlike hazel. Like all the elves Mack had seen so far, his age was impossible to tell.

“You were saying that Declan is correct, Mr. Stocan?” Stacia asked.

The tall, slender elf nodded as he set his tray down on the blonde wood coffee table and began to pour mugs of tea. The city might be made of cold white stone, but the apartment was all natural woods, colorful rugs, and tapestries. The little table was a work of art.

“It’s just Stocan, miss. But yes, your friend is entirely correct. The queens, and to a lesser extent, their princesses, are bound to their realms. The land feeds them its power in unimaginable amounts. Within their lands, they are like goddesses. But, here, the land is unbound and Morrigan and her sister are much reduced,” he said.

“It’s the reason Idiria was built here.”

“Would the dragons be a match for the queens if they were in their realms?” Mack asked.

“The queens hold power that none of us…” Stocan paused, his eyes flicking across each of them, “—most of us cannot fathom.” Stocan’s gaze had hit everyone equally, except Declan, who he had slid right over. “But dragons have a natural resistance to what you call magic. Their very skin is armor and their breath is a weapon. Past battles have always ended without a winner but with many losers.”

“So Zinnia and Morrigan aren’t so tough here in Idiria?” Jetta asked.

“They remain more than a match for most,” Stocan said, “but yes, they are diminished.”

“You are not usually this… forthcoming, Stocan,” Ian said. “I wonder what is different tonight?”

The elf calmly met Ian’s eyes and nodded slowly. “Your words are truth. Idirians are not to take sides… for the most part.”

“And yet…” Ian prompted.

The slender elf drew a breath and straightened. Then he turned from Ian and faced Declan, who was still sitting on the cushion. He gave the young man a short, sharp bow. “With a banquet of this nature, the senior administrators of Idiria always attend. It is our preference that they be placed far from either queen, and now that we have one again, the Speaker. The leaders of our city were seated under the dragon’s perch, that being the farthest distance from the table of notables. Your intervention saved our senior-most people,” he said. Drawing a breath, he finished, “My spouse was among those seated. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Speaker?”

“Of course, Stocan,” Ashley said.

The elf bowed to her, nodded to Declan and then the others, and disappeared back out the archway. A moment later, the sound of the apartment door clicking shut reached all their ears.

“I should have heard him sooner,” Stacia said.

Ashley waved her off and turned to her father. “Was that what I thought it was?” she asked.

Ian looked extremely thoughtful. Then he nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes it was,” he said.

“What was it?” Mack asked.

“Stocan just acknowledged a debt to Declan,” Ashley said.

“Um, I think it’s more than that,” Ian said. “By stopping the stone from crushing the table, you protected the city’s leaders. There are now a whole lot of white-dressed elves who owe you a debt of honor.”

“And that’s in our favor, right?” Jetta asked.

“Yes, the city’s permanent residents don’t take sides. They’re like the Swiss—neutral. But Stocan just acknowledged an honor debt, something they take extremely seriously. Many others, including the people at that table, will feel the same way,” Ian said. “But there are even more who have ties to either of the two realms.”

“How do we use that, Mr. Moore?” Jetta asked.

“We’ll have to think on that very carefully, Jetta. There are still a lot of unanswered questions,” he said.

“Speaking of unanswered questions, you never explained how you knew the queens weren’t connected to this land?” Stacia asked, turning back to Declan.

Her witch went still, his face smoothing to blankness. Mack knew his roommate well enough to know he was struggling with how to answer her. He suspected that Declan was considering lying, but that wasn’t an option with a wolf girl who could literally smell the truth.

Finally, the lanky youth frowned and took a breath. “It told me,” he said.

“What told you, D?” Stacia pressed.

“The land. This land. It told me it was not bound to the elves or to anyone else,” he said.

“When did it do that?” she asked.

“The moment I set foot on this world,” he replied.

“Why? How?” Ashley asked.

“In my head,” he said.

“Like with actual words?” Ashley asked.

“No. Feelings. Impressions. I thought I was crazy,” he said.

“Shouldn’t you tell me if you’re going crazy?” Stacia asked. “Isn’t that our agreement?”

“Yes, but I was disoriented from the portal and then we were on the dragon and then here and rushing around for the dinner and well…” he trailed off.

“Those are just excuses. You should have told me of these feelings,” Stacia said.

Mack felt as confused as the rest of them looked. “Why does he have to tell you about feeling wacky?” he asked, earning himself a cold look from the werewolf.

“Because I’m too dangerous to just be allowed to go crazy,” Declan said. “So we agreed that she would help me monitor anything wacky. I was supposed to keep her apprised of how I felt. Which I did do with regard to the raw power of this world, but I think…” he trailed off.

“Yes? You think what?” Stacia prompted, arms crossed.

“I think I lied to myself that it was just a side effect of the power overload,” he said.

“That makes sense,” Jetta said, earning her own cold stare. “What? He’s supposed to know that the land is attempting a conversation?” she asked.

“Who else is better qualified to know?” Stacia asked.

“Well, I didn’t. Not right away. But it’s been there, all day, persistent,” Declan said.

“Okay, so the land is trying to get your attention. Why?” Ashley asked, frowning.

“I’m not certain yet. It’s like it wants something,” Declan said. “But I don’t know what.”

“Okay. Tell me as you feel things. Maybe I can help you figure it out,” Stacia said.

“So what happens if he feels he’s going crazy?” Ashley asked, looking at Stacia.

“I help him not,” the blonde said evenly.

“What does that mean?” Ashley asked, voice rising.

Before Stacia, who was now starting to look angry, could respond, Declan jumped in.

“Do you know what happens when an LV virus-infected person Changes for the first time?” he asked Ashley.

“Well, yeah. We learned about this at Arcane. Instincts, pain, and sensory overload overwhelm them. It’s why they need a pack and an alpha to help them,” Jetta said before Ashley could.

“And how does an alpha were help?” Delcan asked, turning to Mack’s sister.

“Matthew explained it. They can form a bond that lets them dull the pain and overload and calm the instincts,” Jetta said, illumination spreading across her face as she turned to Stacia and Declan. “But you’re not a wolf and Stacia’s not an alpha?”

“She kinda is. If she were in a regular pack, she would rise to alpha very quickly. But her position is… irregular. And while I’m not a were, her inner wolf picked me as her mate, so we have a connection,” Declan said.

“That’s why she touches you. To calm you, right?” Jetta asked. “Like when Neeve was pushing your buttons at the portal stone.”

“Pretty much,” Declan agreed.

“About that,” Ian said. “You need to be very careful around Neeve. She’s one of the most dangerous fighters I’ve ever witnessed.”

“Yeah, I know. You were there when she stabbed me with that living blade of hers,” Declan said.

“She what?” Stacia asked, eyes turning yellow.

“Not a full stab, but it had some repercussions,” Declan said. “I kinda Tasered her back, but Ashley got between us before we could get into it.”

“And you didn’t fry her on the spot?” Stacia asked. “Oh, wait. Is that how you got infected with Sorrow? Her blade punched through it?”

“Yes, when nothing else would even scratch it, so Mr. Moore has a valid point. I won’t try to go hand-to-hand with someone who’s been practicing her fighting arts for a thousand years. I’ll just stand off and blast her,” Declan said.

“She’s Morrigan’s daughter. She has powers here, especially when she’s in her mother’s lands,” Ian said.

“So do I. But tell me, how do her Frost blades react to steel?” Declan asked.

“It burns them, but she’s so fast with them that the contact time is minimal. You’ll never touch her with that tomahawk,” Ian said.

“Who said anything about a tomahawk?” Declan said, shifting his ever-handy magic messenger bag, which clinked. Metallically.

“He’s got steel balls,” Mack said. When he saw the smirks that came his way, he sighed and waited for the comments.

“Wow, you two have gotten to be close roommates, huh?” Jetta teased.

Stacia arched one eyebrow at first Mack and then Declan, who simply shrugged. “Look at him. He’s a catch for any guy,” Declan said, turning to Mack, trying to keep his face serious. “So cute.”

Stacia widened her eyes a tiny bit and then turned to give Mack a full appraisal before she started nodding. “Yes, he is. You’ll have to guard him from all the elf boys and girls though,” she said.

Mack flipped them all off.

“I always thought Neeve was your bodyguard?” Jetta asked Ashley.

“That is a role she played when Ashley was first named as Speaker. A gesture by Morrigan to curry favor with the dragons. We didn’t trust the Winter Court, but Zinnia’s people had killed my parents, so they weren’t getting anywhere near Ashley,” Ian said. “Now that full negotiations with dragonkind are underway, neither Court can be trusted in such a role.”

“What about that Greer dude?” Mack asked.

“He’s… complicated,” Ian said. “He owes me an honor debt. They call it dettis onach. Pretty much what a goodly number of Idirians owe Declan.”

“Do you trust him?” Stacia asked.

“God no. His ideas for repaying the debt do not account for my wishes and desires. The Fae, which covers all of the races here on Fairie, are not human. They don’t think like humans and they don’t value humans. Don’t ever forget that,” Ian said. “Now, I’m headed for bed. The meetings start at the crack of dawn. We’ll work in shifts. Two on, two here, and one rotating. Mack and Jetta first. I’ll spell one of them, then Stacia will spell me, then Declan, and so on. The meetings go on all day. It’s going to be long, boring, and hard to stay alert, so bring your A games. Good night.”

Jetta and Ashley followed suit, heading to their joint room. Left with the two lovebirds, Mack felt very much a third wheel. He excused himself and headed to his own single room, leaving them together on the big floor pillows that stood in for couches here.

Chapter 8

Chris

Rome

Tanya and Nika had already grabbed the children and were heading toward the exit, even as I switched places with Lydia at the cell door. Inside, Stefano-thing was unfolding from the ground, and he looked different. His skin was dark, hard, and shiny looking, almost like he was covered in tiny, bumpy pyramids of black glass, and his eyes were entirely black.

“Tanya’s deductive leap is most likely correct to a certain degree. The exterior plating on the entity is some type of synthetic diamondoid varietal. Be prepared for a vastly different confrontation,” Omega said.

Motion high up on the walls inside caught my attention. Metallic somethings were forming in both places.

“Is that the machine’s work?” Senka asked, sounding like she was commenting on my choice of shoes while nodding toward the now-softball-sized robots.

“Yes, he’s assembling his soldiers,” I said. “Look out; here comes the alien.”

Stefano-thing was marching on the door like Arnold did in virtually all of his movies.

It pulled back one arm and slammed a punch at the steel door. Okay, more like through the steel door. The shiny black fist had popped through it like it was tissue paper.

“Oh my. He glitters like those ridiculous vampire wannabes in those God-awful movies,” Senka said. “Christian, I think he wants to kill your babies,” she suggested, backing away from the door, eyes wide, her mouth twitching.

Okay, a part of me understood she was manipulating me. That she had chosen her words like a surgeon chooses his scalpel. But most of me didn’t care that she was experimenting with Grim and me in the middle of a major problem. It didn’t matter, because ultimately she was right.

Grim took control and tore the remains of the door out of our way. Then I was through the door and pounding aura-wrapped fists into the hard, crystal thing in the room. It punched back and the hits hurt—at least as much as any impact registers as pain when Grim is in charge. But my skin and bones are tougher. According to Doc Singh, the vampire virus does its own little experimentation with carbon molecules. My skin absorbs impact and spreads the love around while my bones flex and spring when force is applied. Grim laughed with my voice.

My counterpunches slowed it—a little. The parts I hit seemed to dull and become a flat black… for about five seconds, before they healed or reactivated or whatever.

My own wounds, gashes, and cuts from diamond-sharp hands healed almost as fast. Most of those were on my arms and hands from blocking and hitting.

Grim is awesome at finding patterns and weaknesses in combat; Stefano-thing apparently not so much. We started to hit the same place over and over on his body, pounding his chest area and never letting it regain its shine. When the chest began to cave in, Grim switched from punches to aura-lined spear hand strikes and that’s when the black armor split apart. A deep pool of aura flared into my right fist as Grim pulled it back to strike. When it slammed into Stefano-thing, it went in deep and the pool of aura exploded from my hand, blasting outward through its torso.

The enemy stumbled and fell to its knees. Grim pulled us back to observe. The whole middle of the man-shaped creature appeared dead, but the head and limbs still moved. The body fell forward and the head came away from the torso, as did all four limbs. The dismembered parts kept moving, twisting and shifting about, starting to change.

Faster than seemed possible, the detached body parts began to morph into new, horrible shapes. Long, jointed limbs popped out of the head while a series of sharp little black legs burst into being along both sides of the arms. The fingers lengthened and sharpened and turned into carbon black fangs. The legs thinned and stretched out, starting to writhe and twist along the ground like snakes.

A quarter was suddenly in my right hand, plucked from the tiny coin pocket of my jeans. Grim tossed it and clapped, the resulting boom loud enough to shake the room. Spider head came apart as the jet of explosively formed metal blasted through it and carved a crater in the concrete floor.

The mutated legs and arms flashed across the floor, like nitrous-powered, armored cockroaches. I grabbed an arm, its needle-sharp legs digging deep into my fist. With a snap that broke the sound barrier, I flicked it up, dislodging it into the air, and then clapped both hands together on it like it was a quarter. My aura-lined hands hit with explosive force and the arm burst into a cloud of black powder.

Grim turned, taking us back out to the guards’ chamber in time to see our bear slam a leg-snake with one massive paw. The snake limb was almost four feet long but ‘Sos’s paw is just about a foot and a half in length. The whole middle of the creature flattened and sort of burst, yet the ends retained their awful life, snapping back up to stab my bear-wolf’s paw with super sharp spikes.

He friggin’ yowled. Almost one ton of bear, making a surprised, deep-toned yowl like some twisted gargantuan alley cat. Very un-bearlike. Then he slammed his paws together, crushing more of the snake thing. And again, spattering more of the twisting, writhing black thing, and yet it still hung on to his paw by its deeply planted spikes.

Suddenly, his form blurred and he became a much smaller wolf, the snake falling from a paw that was now vastly smaller—a paper-plate-sized appendage rather than oversized turkey platter.

The alien snaky thing was battered and broken, yet already I could see it being rebuilt, the length of black shortening as it used its own mass for reconstruction. Wolfish eyes looked at me in confusion, clearly asking for help. I pointed at the small sink along one wall, near a mini fridge, three small cupboards, and a short length of counter complete with espresso machine.

With a snap and a flick, Sos chomped the snake thing and flung it through the air to land in the sink. Grabbing the big jug of hydrochloric acid that was still on the counter, I poured it over the snake. Smoke billowed up instantly as the powerful acid went to work on the thrashing alien. Acid spattered and smoke rose from multiple spots on my clothes.

“Watch yourself,” Senka said in clipped British tones. I pushed away from the sink as Senka flipped one of the arms into the melting mess. I poured more acid on top and got more spatters in return.

“Is coming your way,” Arkady growled, the second carbon-armored leg snake sliding off the blade of the massive bowie he always carried in a back sheath and landing for three points in the smoking sink. I poured acid again, the fumes and acrid smoke starting to fill the room.

Blue light lit up in the far corner and I spun to see two squirrel-sized Omega bots burning bits and pieces of the spattered head. The air in the room was now completely toxic, but I was holding my breath and I think Senka and Arkady were as well. ‘Sos backed out of the room, eyes locked on me. I capped the jug of the acid and waved the two vampires toward the door. Senka was suddenly in front of me, the breeze generated by her movement blowing back the acid smoke for a brief moment.

She darted to the biohazard box containing the alien slug and grabbed its carry handle. She checked that the box lid was shut and latched before turning to look at me, eyes alight with excitement.

I gestured toward the doorway and she gave me a tiny bow before following Arkady’s broad form out of the room. Bursts of blue light continued to flick and glow in the white clouds as I shut the door behind us, sapphire flashes strobing like a nightclub or a cop car. More blue light flashed as the bot on the glass top of Doc Singh’s glove containment box started to burn the two samples.

Outside, I found the guards, Rochat, and my entire team waiting. My phone spoke from my pocket as I looked at Tanya and the twins.

“I am continuing clean-up operations. The atmosphere is currently deadly to humans. Arrangements will need to be made to pump out the fumes and neutralize the remaining acid. Some of the diamondoid armor has survived the acid bath, but appears to be inert. I will deconstruct it. Please note that laser application in the blue spectrum is effective but not as efficient against the diamondoid armor as infrared spectrum wavelengths. I have tried both. The fumes tend to occlude laser light, so lasing must take place at extremely close quarters,” Omega said. “Also, the sink and drain will need serious reconstruction.”

“That was…” Senka began.

“Awful?” Lydia said. “Terrifying?”

“Exciting, dear. It was the most fun I’ve had in ages,” Senka said, ignoring her seven-foot-tall bodyguard, who was dabbing a wet cloth at the few acid spatters she’d received.

Tanya was looking at me, head tilted. When she caught my eye, she pointed first at my torso and then patted her shirt in a half dozen places. I looked down. Smoke was rising off my ruined shirt and pants, gaping holes appearing in the material.

Something flew my way and my left hand caught it automatically before I even looked up. It was a bottle of water. Arkady gave me a grin and I nodded back in thanks. While I splashed myself, I looked over the others to see how everyone fared.

Tanya was holding Wulf, and Nika had Cora, all four of them looking at me with varying degrees of either fascination or mild amusement and just a touch of baby drool. Two fully formed Omega bots, each the size of a border collie, bracketed them, laser and rail gun arms humming with power. Behind them, against the wall, a cluster of micro bots was plugged into the electrical outlet, probably broadcasting power to the rest.

Senka stood with her bodyguard, her eyes animated, her normal poker face shifting through various expressions of mild excitement. Lydia had the twisted remains of the cell door and was straightening the bent steel by hand, ignoring Rochat and his men and their looks of shock. When it was mostly restored, she carried it to the cell and began to wedge and bend it into place.

Seeing a five-foot-nothing girl bend, then carry, a two-hundred pound steel door like it was made of cardboard was having a serious effect on the Swiss Guard soldiers’ worldviews.

“Captain, you’ll want to get that sealed and have the fumes pumped out,” Tanya said to the tall blond soldier. He had to tear his eyes away from Lydia’s hand-to-door construction project, but he nodded and moved to the wall-mounted telephone.

A cell phone started to ring, playing a snippet of what I was pretty sure was Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. It came from inside the cell.

We all looked at each other, then Senka started to pat her pockets. “Oh, that’s mine, I suppose. Christian, your clothes are already mostly melted. Be a dear and pop in and get it?” she asked me.

“Unnecessary. I am rerouting the call to Lydia’s phone now,” Omega said, Lydia’s pocket starting to vibrate almost immediately.

She pulled it out and hit the speaker button while looking at Senka, who arched one eyebrow but addressed the call. “Yes?”

“Elder, it is Ilse. The teams you sent out to the other locations have reached check-in time. Two teams have missed the deadline and there is no response to any attempt to communicate with them,” a female voice said with a rich Italian accent.

“Which teams?” Senka asked, looking around the circle we’d quickly formed.

“The San Clemente team disappeared not long after entering the third level, which is the Mithrian section, and we are missing the team that descended under the Basilica of Santi Giovanni e Paolo. Both were four-member teams,” Ilse said.

I looked at the members of our group. “We’ll have to split up. Senka and Arkady take San Clemente, and Lydia, ‘Sos, and I will take Santi Giovanni.”

“I will, of course, accompany both teams. I am preparing more capable avatars,” Omega said. “Some form of portable microwave incinerator will likely be useful.”

I looked at the dog-sized robots, looking like mechanical centaurs with four legs and two weaponized arms. The laser aperture on their arms was as big as a quarter.

Tanya met my eyes with raised eyebrows of her own.

More capable? Microwave incinerators?

“Omega, I’ve been meaning to ask. How is Declan and the others? Are you in contact with them?” I asked.

“They are well. It is a very alien world, but they are adapting with some help from the Moores.”

“Declan keeping his head on straight? No issues?” Tanya asked.

“There is much more free energy or magic available to him. He is coming to grips with it. Stacia is keeping him centered,” Omega said, which really wasn’t a complete answer. After an awkward pause, my vampire shrugged at me and I shrugged back. We had too much going on to press Omega for answers now, but as soon as we caught a breath, I was going to have a whole lot of questions for him.

Chapter 9

Fairie

Mack decided that Ian hadn’t exaggerated one little bit about the boring nature of their jobs. He and his sister had stood for an hour, listening to Ashley speak the dragons’ messages across the giant amphitheater while the two queens and their advisors responded back. At least it was all in English, as Ashley didn’t speak Elvish, although Omega gave them a running translation of the side conversations Zinnia and Morrigan held with their people. The translations came up on Ashley’s iPad, which was propped in front of her the whole time. And the acoustics were so good under the dome that everyone just spoke in regular voices. Gargax watched and listened from his aerie, occasionally glancing at Ashley as the two conversed mentally.

But the negotiations were all about who could fish what part of which oceans and who could raise meat animals in which lands, and what islands in the vast ocean were off-limits to elves, and so forth. Fairie had one massive continent, the Fairie analogue to Pangaea that just never broke up.

The dragons, it seemed, lived on the coastlines and islands out to sea, as a great deal of their food came from the ocean. They ate fish and marine reptiles and mammals as the largest part of their diet, but also consumed herd animals on the plains and in the forests and jungles.

The elves felt the northern and southern forests were their exclusive domains, while the dragons had no tolerance for elven ships upon their seas.

The vast belt of plains that stretched from coast to coast across the temperate zone of the Fairie land mass was contested by all three factions. The dragons hunted the big herbivores that migrated across the flatlands while the elves mostly domesticated them and used them as beasts of burden.

Ian had said that the elves shunned material technology, instead embracing biotechnology to a degree that would stun Earth. They modified the plants and animals of their world to fulfill their needs for transportation, weapons, agriculture, medicine, heat, lights, cooling, and communication. They grew their homes, furniture, and tools. They also modified themselves as well. Made themselves into faster, stronger warriors, administrators with enhanced memories and calculating skills, mediators with empathic talents, telepathic communicators who could connect with their counterparts thousands of miles away.

It’s why Ashley had been grabbed in the first place. They used Earth as a raw material supply center for their biology sciences. Grab humans with psychic gifts and breed, splice, or hack the genes into their own people. But never grab witches. Ever.

“So what happened? That time they grabbed one an eon ago?” Mack had asked Ian not long into the second hour after Jetta had been relieved.

They were guarding the entrance to the balcony where Ashley spoke for the dragons. There was a current lull in the negotiations, and a quiet conversation would just be one of hundreds currently happening under the dome.

“I’ve never heard a straight answer to that question,” Ian said.

“It is generally considered very bad form to discuss that event,” another voice said, and Stocan came around the corner from the hallway that led to Gargax’s aerie. He was carrying a tray of glasses and several beverage pitchers, which he set down on a bench.

“It happened a long, long time ago. Hunters brought a witch child from Earth. It is my understanding that witch clans guard their children well, especially the promising ones. This particular child had been found away from her people, lost in the woods near the portal the Hunters came through,” Stocan said, taking a seat on the bench. “They brought her back and presented her to the queens. Both wanted her and neither was willing to concede her. They fought, sister against sister, Court against Court. Hundreds of elves died in that battle. And more would have but suddenly it was noticed that the witchling was gone. The battle ceased, a truce called while they searched for the girl. The Hunters and Guardians quickly picked up her trail, but when they tracked her to a small village, the citizens rose up and attacked them.”

“It was unheard of—regular people attacking the queens’ warriors. It was a slaughter and when the warriors were done, not a single villager was left alive.”

“Punishment for assaulting soldiers?” Mack asked.

“No,” the tall elf said, shaking his head. “The villagers kept attacking to the last person. It was as if they were driven to do so.”

“Ah, she was likely an Air witch,” Mack said. “They are especially skilled at influencing others.”

Stocan and Ian both turned to look at him with expressions of surprise.

“What? I live with like forty of them,” Mack said.

“And when they found her?” Ian asked.

“The Hunters and Guardians immediately turned on one another, wiping each other out,” Stocan said. “The queens only realized then that it was the witchling, pitting them against each other. So they attempted to use their own powers, but each time, they would find themselves fighting each other. You really live with that many? Do they influence you?”

“Nah, they’d have to be stronger than D…” Mack said but was interrupted by Ian’s sharp cough. “—than each other,” he said, shifting his words rapidly. Stocan just looked confused. “What finally happened?” Mack asked.

“The Hunters and Guardians were called back and the queens retreated to their own realms. Morrigan dispatched her killing Frost and the girl was killed,” Stocan said.

“Witches were banned from Fairie by mutual agreement.”

“Killing frost?” Mack asked.

“He means Neeve. That’s one of her names—the Winter Queen’s Killing Frost or Black Frost,” Ian said.

“She was able to do what the others couldn’t?” Mack asked, slightly disbelieving.

“Morrigan’s Black Frost has never failed. Her blades always bring death,” Stocan said.

“Well, except for Declan,” Mack said, thinking about the story. “That little witch must have had some serious spells.”

“What do you mean… except for Declan?” Stocan asked, suddenly almost in Mack’s face.

“Well she stabbed him once but he electrocuted her and before they could get into it, Ashley intervened. But she seemed to get over it,” Mack said, leaning back a little from the intense elf.

Stocan turned to Ian. “This is true?” he asked.

“Yeah, I saw it happen,” Ian said. “Why?”

“I know of no one who has been bled by Neeve’s living blades who still lives. I have never heard of such a thing,” Stocan said.

“Well there must be others, training partners at the least. I mean, she had her blade to my throat once and it drew a drop of blood, and I’m still here,” Ian said.

Stocan’s eyes got rather large. “Truly? Two of you in one group?”

“What does that mean?” Mack asked.

“I do not know. I will have to think about this and maybe ask one other,” the elf said.

“Ask about what?” Stacia asked, coming down the hall, wolfishly graceful.

“A minor mystery,” Ian said. “You here for Mack’s relief?”

“Yup, and D will be along in an hour to spell you, Ian,” Stacia said.

“Spell him?” Stocan asked, alarmed.

“Sorry, figure of speech. Means to relieve him of his guard duty,” Stacia said, smiling.

“Not the other kind of spelling. Hey, what are those? Drinks?”

“Yes, for the Speaker,” Stocan said.

“Anyone test them?” she asked, leaning over and smelling each. As she leaned back, there was a whirring blur and Pancho was hovering over the tray, hands on hips as he glared at Stacia.

“By all means, have at it, puck. Or is it stupid little f—” she said, but it was Mack’s turn to intervene.

“Fine fellow. A fine warrior fellow with lots of other warriors,” Mack said, giving the puck a smile and Stacia a look of warning.

“Whatever,” she said, moving over to check on Ashley, who was silently conferring with her dragons.

Pancho gave her back a glare, then hovered down over the pitchers and the glasses, sniffing each carefully.

“One of their traditional roles is poison detector. They were bred to have unparalleled senses of taste and smell for just that purpose,” Stocan said, not at all bothered by the double check of his delivery. “Nothing but the best defenses for the Winter Queen.”

“Stacia, how is everyone at the apartment?” Ian asked the blonde girl when she circled back from Ashley.

Her eyebrows rose in confusion for a second, then the light bulb went off.

“Oh. Yeah. Everyone’s fine. Jetta and Declan are playing cards. They’re both cheating,” she said.

“No illness or dizziness?” Ian asked intently.

“No, everybody is over their travel… nausea,” she said.

“Okay, just checking. Your particular skills with dizziness won’t be needed in the next hour?” Ian asked.

“No. Plus you have Mack. He’s got a bit of skill in that regard too,” Stacia said.

“I do?” Mack asked, not sure if he followed everything they weren’t saying.

“Yes, you moron. Roomies have skills,” she said archly.

“Oh. Yeah, you’re right. No problems, Ian,” Mack said, finally understanding. He did have some ability to talk his dangerous roommate off the edge of destruction if it came to that.

Two more white-clad elves came up to the balcony, each holding a folded stack of greenish-yellow leather. Mack could see some black in there too.

Stocan saw them and nodded at them. The two elves set their burdens down, bowed, and backed away. “Gargax has ordered dragon leathers for the Speaker and her party. She gave us your measurements and we made these from skins the dragons provided.”

Stacia was holding a shirt up and examining it critically before anyone else could even move. Ashley had heard the comment and was coming over with a smile on her face.

“This one is for you, Lady Wolf,” Stocan said, handing Stacia a different set. “The Speaker specified that your pants and shirt must break away at the seams when you transform.”

“Like what? Stripper clothes?” Mack said, trying to look innocent while simultaneously jumping back.

Stacia just gave him a raised eyebrow. “That’s right, you are the expert on strippers. Always traveling across the Canadian border to visit the stripper ballet in Montreal.”

Normally that wouldn’t have bothered him, but having Ashley right there was more than a bit embarrassing for some reason.

“If you’re taking these to the Speaker’s apartment, I’ll go with you,” Mack said to Stocan, moving around behind Ian to get past his roommate’s very dangerous girlfriend.

“Nervous, Mack?” she asked sweetly.

“Around you? Always, Bombshell,” he said, using the nickname he’d coined for her when Declan had first introduced her. He’d turned to Declan when Stacia was walking away and whispered “That’s one blonde bombshell who really could explode.” Naturally she’d heard him, wolfish hearing and all. Oddly, she seemed to kind of like it, taking it as a complement.

“As you should be, Mackling,” she said as he picked up a stack of the dragonskin clothing. “Remind Declan he needs to be here in an hour.”

He gave her a bow and touched his forehead with the fingers of his free hand in some sort of obeisant gesture. “As you wish, Lady Wolf.”

“Hmmpf. You mock what can bite, little man,” she sniffed, making a show of examining her new dragonskin armor. Then she started to unbutton her shirt, which caused Ian to spin away from her, embarrassed, and Ashley to cover her mouth in surprise.

Mack gave her a cheeky smile and left with Stocan, who had watched the byplay with great interest.

Two hours later, Declan and Stacia escorted Ashley back to the apartment, all three wearing their dragon leathers, with an aerial guard provided by Pancho and two of his clan. Jetta had her dragonskins on, but Mack and Ian hadn’t changed into them yet.

Stocan led a group of elves in right behind them, carrying trays of meat, cheeses, fruits, and richly grained breads.

“The dragons got hungry so they called a lunch break,” Ashley said as the little group entered the apartment. The room shook and heavy footsteps sounded across the ceiling before the building shuddered. “That’s Gargax headed to the herds,” Ashley said, going just a little pale.

“How do you keep your cool?” Mack asked her. “The biggest, baddest carnivores ever and you work with them?”

“It would be easy for you to understand if you heard them as I do,” Ashley said, pointing at her head. “They are highly intelligent beings who view things differently. Yes they’re immensely dangerous, but really, are they any less dangerous to humans one-on-one than, say, Stacia or her pack?”

Mack glanced at the blonde werewolf girl who spun around and gave the room a wolfish grin.

“Well I can see that, I guess. I can talk to the weres and understand them as you can with the dragons. I guess that’s the part I can’t wrap my head around because I don’t hear them like you do. Still, any one of them could gulp down even Dellwood in about two chomps. Even Awasos is tiny compared to them,” Mack said. “We can at least fight a werewolf, no matter the odds. We have no chance against dragons, except…”

“Except what?” Stacia asked from where she was filling a plate with food.

“Not what—who. Declan, you must have already come up with an anti-dragon spell or two?” Mack asked.

“Dragons are immune to magic,” Ashley said, maybe a bit smugly.

“Direct magic, yes. Indirect, no,” Mack said. “Remember my bucket ’o’ shit?”

“No,” Stacia said, “because I wasn’t there and Declan didn’t even get pictures.”

“Oh! I have photos on my phone, Stacia,” Jetta said. “I just don’t want to run low on power here with no way to recharge.”

Declan cleared his throat. “First, let’s not be mean, Jet. Second, as long as any of you don’t drain you batteries completely, you should be fine. Omega is keeping them charged from the solar cells in his micro bots. The spells I put on each of your phones allows him to broadcast power to them. He just doesn’t have a whole lot of resources here. And third, I’ve got some ideas about dragons, but—” he held up one hand to Ashley’s beginning cry of protest— “they’re just the kind of automatic contingency thing that Tanya and Chris and Stacia beat into me last summer.”

“Omega’s charging our phones?” Jetta asked at the same time Ian spoke. “You have spells that could damage a dragon?” he asked.

“Yes, and yes,” Declan said. “Ashley, you’ve played enough Wytch War to know the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

The pretty Speaker had her arms folded across her chest and a frown on her face. “Why are we even talking about harming the dragons? I’m here to help them,” she said.

“Of course. But we make contingencies for everything. That’s what Arcane teaches us. The dragons are good. But are all of them?” Declan asked, then shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe there’s one that doesn’t want the status quo to change. It’s all theoretical, Ash. Not like we’re plotting against Gargax or Trygon. By the way, did he supply the skin for these suits? We were wondering.” He glanced at his werewolf, who nodded as she chewed a slab of something that looked a bit like beef.

“Yes. He’s younger, so he still molts every five years or so. The older dragons might only molt once in a hundred years and their skins are too thick and heavy to make clothing out of,” Ashley said.

“This stuff seems really tough,” Stacia commented between bites.

“It’s not as bullet resistant as Kevlar, but it is way more slash and stab resistant,” Ian said, pulling a knife from his waist and slashing at his own forearm. The blade made absolutely no impression on the yellow-green dragonskin. “It’s some of the best armor around, as it’s relatively light like traditional leather, but much tougher. That’s why the Hunters and Guardians wear it, but it’s in severely limited supply.”

“The dragons haven’t supplied new skins in a long, long time. It’ll be one of the biggest items the queens bargain for,” Ashley said.

“I like it. Easy to move around in and you were thoughtful to make mine breakaway, Ashley. Thank you,” Stacia said.

“Yes, thank you for making hers breakaway,” Declan said with a lecherous grin, immediately receiving an elbow from his girlfriend. “No, honestly. Thanks for these. Makes me feel better about all the pointy-stabby things the elves carry,” he said.

“They won’t stop Black Frost blades in the hands of an expert like Neeve or Greer, but they are proof against the arrow darts the elves use,” Ian said.

“They’re also a pretty big message to the two Courts,” Mack said. Everyone looked at him, interested in his comment. “Big advertisement for quality dragon armor while also saying that the Speaker and her guards are part of dragon nation.”

Ashley nodded, looking mildly impressed. “That’s exactly the message that Gargax wants to send.”

“Probably wants to send another message by calling for lunch, then tearing apart some poor herbivores right in front of the elves,” Declan said, moving to fill a plate from the table.

“And here we thought Stacia liked you for your pretty blue eyes,” Mack said, following his friend’s lead to the food.

“I like those too, but an occasional glimmer of intelligence is not unattractive,” the beautiful blonde said with a smirk.

“In that regard, I would like to chime in and inform you that I am monitoring conversations around the complex that indicate a desire to inflict harm on members of this party. You must all be on your guards at all times. As Father indicated, my resources are limited on this world at this time, but I would like to equip each of you with a micro unit so that we may all be in contact at all times,” Omega suddenly said from Jetta’s phone, causing the girl to startle and almost drop it.

Almost instantly, the collar of Declan’s leather shirt moved and a tiny robot crawled out. He didn’t appear to be surprised by it.

“As you may note, they are small and unobtrusive. Hiding under a collar or in a pocket until we need to communicate.”

“They won’t run out of power?” Ian asked as a dozen of the tiny units flittered into the room and started to alight, a few on each of the team members.

“The units can convert both light and heat to electrical energy. When hidden, your body heat will power them.”

“They don’t bite or pinch, do they?” Jetta asked, looking at two that were climbing her arm with an expression that was half fascination and half grimace.

“While they appear insect-like, they are not. There will be no biting, pinching, or burrowing, although they will keep watch while you sleep. Should anything trip their sensors, you will be alerted.”

“That’s definitely something,” Mack said, holding still while three of the micro units shifted under his collar before going absolutely still. Each was no bigger than a dime, tiny four-legged micro centaurs of silvery metal.

“Also, please be aware that one of my micro units has been found by the creatures known as pucks and taken to the Queen of Winter. I expect there will be questions,” Omega said.

“Great. Now they’ll accuse us of spying,” Ashley said.

“Did you know about them?” Declan asked. She shook her head. “Then you can answer truthfully that they are nothing to do with you. Technology from Earth, but not yours nor under your control. I assume they can detect lies?” he asked.

“That is true,” Ian said. “He’s right, Ash. Not your tech. It came from Earth but hey, lots of interested players there.”

“Omega, you need to break the entanglement so they can’t follow it back to you with sympathetic magic,” Declan said.

“An excellent idea, Father,” Omega said. “Already done.”

At that moment, there was a knock at the door and Mack went to answer it. Stocan stood outside. “May I come in? I have a message for the Speaker.”

Mack led him to the others.

“Speaker, Queen Morrigan has sent me to convey you to her presence,” the tall elf said.

“In other words, she demands my presence,” Ashley said.

“That is another way of phrasing it, and not untrue,” Stocan said.

Declan went to his pack and started to rummage, quickly bringing out a blue nylon zippered case. He opened it and started to hand out Bluetooth units.

“I brought lots of spares. If we each have one, we can stay in communication and Omega can translate all the Elvish we hear,” Declan said.

Ian was nodding as he clipped his to his ear. “This is a really good idea. Let’s also weapon up. We don’t want to look weak,” he said.

Mack clipped on his own earpiece, then almost ran to his room to grab his rifle. The Springfield SOCOM CQB was a shortened semi-auto version of the military’s venerable old M14. When Declan declared he was buying Jetta and him rifles for Christmas, Mack had chosen the gun closest to his familiar old Ruger Mini-14. The SOCOM was mostly the same rifle, just bigger and chambered in .308 Winchester or what the military called 7.62 mm, which packed a much bigger punch.

Jetta had chosen a bolt action Mossberg MVP, also in .308, which could use the same ten and twenty round magazines as her brother’s semi-auto.

Mack grabbed his combat vest, which carried five extra twenty round mags for his rifle, five extra Glock mags, and a thirty-three rounder for the pistol as well. Plus his hawk, a couple of small blades, and his uncle’s hideaway .44 Special revolver. His pistol and bowie knife were already on his belt.

He arrived back in the main room just as his sister came back from gearing up herself. Her short, scoped rifle was cradled in one arm and she had already put on her chest rig, which carried three rifle mags, three Glock mags, a hidden Kel Tec .22 magnum pistol, and a spare magazine of .22 hollowpoints. On her right hip, her Glock rode next to her own knife and on her left hip were two pouches, one long for a thirty-three round pistol mag and the other more squared-off to hold the little fifty round drum magazine for her Glock. Her Kydex-sheathed tomahawk hung down her back, Declan style.

Mack was certain she had much more squirreled away around her athletic frame because he did as well.

Stacia had looped two bandoleers across her torso, bandito style, and her little DP-12 shotgun was slung in front of her. Her teenage witch had his messenger bag of magic, compact .357 Magnum, and his tomahawk. Ian looked like a recruiting poster for some special ops warfare group, bristling with weapons and gear.

“Everyone ready?” Ian asked. At their nods, he turned to Stocan. “Lead the way. Mack, you’re tail end Charlie. Ashley, you’re smack dab in the middle.”

Ian followed Stocan, then Ashley, who was flanked by Stacia on one side and Declan on the other, then Jetta and finally Mack.

“Into the fire,” Declan muttered as they headed out the apartment door.

Chapter 10

Chris

Rome

Things happened very quickly. Our two teams broke up and were escorted across Rome by the Carabineri in their Alfa Romeo police cars. As close as I could understand, the Carabineri were both civilian police and military, charged with keeping Rome safe. The soldiers who met my team at the Basilica of Santi Giovanni e Paolo were as well equipped and professional as any military force I’d ever met. I was particularly interested in their Beretta ARX160 assault rifles but there was no time to talk guns, as we had work to do. We climbed out of the van that had rushed us through the cobblestone streets of the ancient city and Lydia went to the soldiers, while I went to the back of the little van. Our driver looked relieved as I opened the rear and ‘Sos flowed out onto the street in wolf form.

When we had left the Vatican, my furry friend had loomed over the little Fiat Scudo van in Kodiak form before shimmering down to merely massive wolf size. The driver had stayed firmly seated inside the vehicle, not getting out to open the back for my wolf-bear, which led me to believe he might have been a touch frightened. That and the white-knuckled grip he held on the steering wheel the whole way here.

Lydia was speaking rapid-fire Italian with the two soldiers, who were securing the front of the Basilica.

“What’s the sitch?” I asked as ‘Sos and I came from the back of the van, me carrying a small duffle.

The soldiers were watching us closely as we talked. “They’ve secured all the entrances with two-man teams. Nobody has been inside, as per their orders. It’s just us. Also, I told them that we would use the code word Caesar when we come back out. No Caesar, start shooting,” she said. Her words had no snark and no sass.

“You good?” I asked.

Her expression went from businesslike blank to sarcastic sneer in a microsecond.

“Listen Junior, I’ve been doing this a lot longer then you,” she said. Still no real bite in her syntax.

Lydia was well-trained and dangerous, but she wasn’t primarily a fighter type. Seeing a regular human transformed into an unkillable weapon had shaken her up a bit.

“Well that’s super. But I get to go first. Furface goes second and you last. Watch our sixes. Got your hammer?” I asked.

She held up the big twenty-four-ounce framing hammer we’d borrowed for her from the Vatican facilities people, as most of our weapons were either on the plane or at Senka’s house. The hammer looked stupid big in her tiny hands, but she waved it around like it was a feather. Tiny but still vampire strong.

“Remember, break their joints and then the head. If they’re black armored, keep hitting the same spot over and over,” I said.

“I have additional forces to back you Christian. Once you, Miss Lydia, and Awasos are inside the church, I will deploy them,” Omega said through my phone. The volume was so low that the soldiers didn’t react. “They are in that small bag I asked you carry.”

I had figured something of the sort, ‘cause the bag kinda clinked a bit. “Right, let’s get to it,” I said. “What was the composition of the missing team?” I asked as we started up the steps.

Lydia started to run down the details, her voice settling down. “Two Darkkin and two human. The team leader is Natalie, one of Senka’s guardian corp. The other vampire and one of the humans are both scientists and the last human is daytime security. I know the scientists by sight only but the day guy is Kurt, an ex-GSG9 trooper. Good guy.”

We entered the church, closing the doors behind us and pausing to let our supernatural senses reach out.

The building was dark and old. Real old. It smelled of wood, candle wax, and people. But there was nothing there now.

“This way,” Lydia said, moving to take the lead, but ‘Sos pushed in front of her.

“Could you open the bag, Christian?” Omega asked before we got past the entry.

I unzipped the duffle and pulled both sides wide open, keeping my head away from the opening. A cloud of whirring micro bots burst out. They circled the air above us, some splitting off to presumably search the building, the rest settling down on all three of us. For Lydia and myself, they landed on our shoulders, gripping the material of our shirts and linking together. In moments, I could see what looked like titanium-gray-colored shoulder pads forming on Lydia while I felt something similar growing on my own shoulders.

On Awasos, they concentrated behind his head, locking into his thick fur and building up into a rounded unit of some kind. The final bots to link up put the finishing touches on a tubular gun barrel that projected out of the dome. Lydia’s shoulders had smaller versions of the gun tubes as well, as I suspected mine did.

“I am sending scouts to investigate. The linked units on your shoulders will provide coordinated infrared laser capability with the larger unit on Awasos.”

Lydia looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“I don’t know how excited I am to have active lasers on either side of my neck and head,” I commented.

“I am running all the units at all times. I will never allow the beams to cross any of you or any part of you,” Omega said. “If you need reassurance please consider how angry my father would be if I harmed any of you.”

“He does dote on that goofy kid,” Lydia said, her expression relaxing a bit. The lasers, the bots, and Omega’s presence were reassuring her. At some point in the recent past, she had started to trust the super AI.

“You mean the goofy kid who is probably rearranging the geography of another planet?” I asked.

“Father has done no harm on Fairie and in fact repaired an architecturally significant building.”

“Fixed what? Stone?” I asked, thinking of his Earth abilities.

“Yes, a relatively small amount of stone,” Omega said.

“Relatively? How come I think your relatively and our relatively might be vastly different?” I asked.

“We do, after all, have different perspectives.”

“Bet you it was at least a ton of stone or earth,” Lydia said.

“I calculate it was approximately twelve hundred pounds, Miss Lydia,” Omega said before I could answer. Which was good, because I was going to bet higher than a ton.

“And let me guess—he broke it in the first place?” I asked.

“Untrue. A dragon broke it, unintentionally.”

“Well then, he’s doing his job. Cleaning up after the dragons,” I said.

“Friggin kid gets right in the middle of everything, doesn’t he?” Lydia asked, smiling slightly.

“He does have a knack for finding trouble, which we are probably seconds away from, ourselves,” I said.

“The above-ground structures are clear, with the exception of a family of mice in one of the upper walls. I have checked them and they are just mice. Entry to the underground is off the right aisle,” Omega said.

We entered the sanctuary and even with a pressing and likely deadly need, we both paused for a second to take in the interior, which, like most of what I’d seen so far in Rome, was shockingly breathtaking. A microbot buzzed by us, flying through a passageway whose walls were lined with postcards from all over the world. We followed the bot, finding the stairs that descended to the lower church. The basilica was two churches built atop one another—well, three actually, if you consider the Mithrian altar room under the lower church to be one as well.

After making sure the lower church was clear, we went down another flight of stairs. The insect-like mini bot flitted to the curved ceiling and crept around the corner. We were deep into some old, old construction.

Grim moved up and took control, bringing my senses up to almost painful detail. Lydia’s foot dislodged a small pebble that tinged onto the floor. The tiny sound bounced through the stairway and out into the unseen room beyond. The echoes filled my head with an image of a long stone room, curved ceiling, built-in stone bench-like structures, and a strange, rectangular altar made from the same rock—and three bodies with someone standing over them.

I turned and held one finger up to Lydia, nodded once, and then Moved around the corner.

A female vampire straightened at my entrance, eyes blank, hands pulling back from a male form with a crushed skull, a female with a broken neck, and a headless female form wearing a weapons harness. Brass cartridge casings littered the floor and the walls were pocked with bullet craters.

“Doctor Ricci?” Lydia asked, barely visible behind the furry bulk of Awasos, who had changed forms back to room-filling Kodiak.

A sharp, ultra high-pitched sound shot through the tight chamber and the vampire, presumably Doctor Ricci, folded to the ground in a now-familiar squat.

I shot forward, chopped her head off with one aura-lined hand, and threw the body against the back wall near the dark hole where the suspicious ear-splitting sound had come from.

“Diamondoid formation has begun. Please stand back and allow the units to begin incineration,” Omega said.

My shoulders both moved, the weapons units standing up and crawling off onto the nearby curve of the low ceiling. The big one on ‘Sos had climbed onto his head and was standing on six metallic legs. He looked at me with a what the hell expression while the laser activated and the kitten-sized bot crouched, then jumped to the ceiling directly above, firing at the vampire’s body the entire time. Even on all fours, Awasos’s head is higher than mine, leaving just a few inches for the bot to jump, which it did with ease.

A glance back showed Lydia’s two units also ceiling-crawling to get into optimum position. The two from me and the big one from my bear were already lasing, the infrared beams visible to my thermal vision, the surface of the twitching blackening body heating rapidly to from red, through orange, and rapidly toward white hot.

The high-pitched sound came again and I Moved to the back of the Mithrian blood chamber. A pale slug-like creature was squirming in an uneven hole at the back of the chamber.

Coating one hand with aura, I scooped it out and flung it to the floor where it twitched, squirmed, and sang ultra high-pitched notes.

The body of Dr. Ricci and her head were both shuddering as the nano invaders inside raced to transform her tissues into something deadlier. The right arm started to pull away from her shoulder.

Grim wasn’t willing to leave it to Omega’s lasers. He caused me to grab the rectangular stone altar and bash the crap out of the head, the slug, and the twitching body. Every time I slammed down the four or five hundred pound altar, the lasers cut off and then as I picked it back up, they fired right back up. We entered a period of steady smash and burn, gradually reducing the doctor’s remains to burnt mush.

Finally, I backed away, still holding the heavy cube of rock. Five beams of thermal energy roved across about a nine-square-foot area of clear blood, pink flesh, and black armor, burning it to cinders, inch by inch.

“Ah, Chris, you missed one,” Lydia said. I looked up at her and found her pointing at my makeshift melee weapon. The massive altar’s weight wasn’t as much of a problem as the awkwardness of it, but at least the square edges gave me gripping points. I spun it around to look at the bottom just in time to see something that might have been a finger jump free and race across the floor in a blur.

A resound thwack echoed in the little chamber, sounding like mini-thunder. ‘Sos stood with his paw on the floor, having slapped it with roughly the force of a heavy machine gun round. He looked at me, then growled in sudden pain. His paw came up and I saw something black and cylindrical sticking out of the middle of it, twitching as it tried to crawl deeper.

Not my bear, motherfucker. I was on him in a microsecond. “Paw,” I demanded, holding out my hand.

In obvious pain and facing an alien nightmare that none of us understood, my were-bear-wolf never hesitated. With heart-wrenching confidence, he put his platter-sized paw in my hand and looked at me like I could solve everything.

Anger swelled through me—anger like a friggin’ hurricane. Fuck this. Not today, not my friend, not ever. Power flooded through me and I poured every erg of aura I could muster through my right hand. I shoved that energy through his paw and up into my waiting left hand, making an aura circuit. The black, gleaming finger monster stopped squirming into ‘Sos, freezing for a second before going completely batshit crazy. It twisted and turned the opposite direction, backing up out of the massive paw, getting closer and closer to my waiting left hand.

Suddenly it popped free, slithering sideways and catching me off-guard. My left hand slammed down but only caught the tail end of it, a literal blackened fingernail of it. Shooting away from me, it hit the floor, all its tiny millipede legs flailing at once. Accelerating quickly, it was six feet away when the framing hammer hit it with the force of jackhammer. Black glittering armor and pink flesh spattered in all directions.

Lydia pulled back the hammer, looking at the still-moving smear she’d made on the stone floor. It was even now trying to put itself back together.

Enough. My anger overhelmed, blasting out of me in a purple-black fury. The God Tear necklace went burning hot against my chest and all of the built-up aura in my body shot out of my right hand and spread around the underground altar room in a concussive blast. The room flashed violet and I felt, rather than saw, the alien become dust.

When I opened my eyes, Lydia was blinking and looking at the powdery remains of the finger thing and the dusty residue still clinging to the face of her hammer. She looked as confused as I felt. “Holy shit!” she said.

Clap—clap—clap. Barbiel was leaning against the doorframe behind us, slow clapping his hands. We all heard him and, based on Lydia’s now-even-wider eyes, saw him too.

“Congratulations. It’s about time you remembered how to do that,” my angelic bro said with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Wait, I’ve done that before?”

“In the tunnel… under Atlantic Avenue,” Lydia said before Barbiel could more than open his mouth. He nodded at her words though.

“Miss Chapman is correct. Don’t you remember?” he asked me.

Most of my memories are back, but some come harder than others. An image popped into my head, of me sitting cross-legged on a dirt floor, Tanya in my lap, feeding from my wrist.

“I do remember,” I said, looking at Lydia then back at him quickly and suddenly having to catch my balance.

“It’s draining, right?” he asked, pushing off the doorframe and stepping closer. Lydia automatically stepped back, away from him.

“Lydia, this is Barbiel. Barbiel, Lydia,” I said, remembering my manners as my balance settled down. I was suddenly really tired.

“The esteemed Lydia Chapman,” Barbiel said, smiling. I just then noticed that he was wearing an Imagine Dragons “Radioactive” t-shirt and crisp, clean jeans.

“You couldn’t have just told me about this trick?” I asked.

“Ah, you know better—rules. I gotta stick to the rules, Chris,” he said. “Especially with something like this.”

“God’s other children?” I asked. “Aliens?”

“Aliens to you, but all part of the family. We’re not allowed to take sides in a family squabble,” he said.

“Unkillable alien zombie germs that take over our people are family?” I asked.

“No, those are weapons. What you just killed, brother, was a construct, as your computer friend surmised. But as you just figured out, you do have some power over that kind of weapon. So does your better half. She can sing to them. And when you do your thing, it will drain you of aura. There are some other effects we should talk about but that might have to wait. Possibly you should check on your people?” he said, and then was just simply gone. Not there. Completely vanished.

“He’s right,” I said to Lydia and ‘Sos, who was chewing his paw. “That healing up, bud?” I asked.

Grabbing the big front foot, I inspected the healing wound. “Looks good. Okay, you ready there, Pita?” I asked Lydia. She looked shell-shocked.

“That was the angel,” she said. It was a statement.

“Yup. He’s becoming a bit of a wiseass, but he’s a good guy,” I said.

“He’s an angel,” she responded, her tone and expression asking for clarification.

“Angels aren’t always nice. In fact, humanity’s interactions with them have mostly been short, violent, and one-sided,” I said.

“He called you brother,” she said. I nodded. “You really are an angel too?”

I held out my hand, palm down, and wiggled it. “Was. Now I’m more fallen than angel. Same with Tanya.”

Her hand went to her mouth, her eyes huge in her pale face. I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick picture. She blinked at the flash.

“Photographic evidence of you speechless. Priceless,” I said.

“You asshole. I’m gonna shove that phone where the cell signals don’t reach,” she growled, but I was already out of the room and headed up the stairs. She must have really been shaken up because she didn’t say another word as we left the church.

“Caesar,” I said to the soldiers as we got outside, already dialing Arkady.

“Dah?” he answered.

“We’re clear here. Senka’s four-person team is toast though. How are you guys?” I asked.

“Alive. Two were converted. Both formed armor. Parts of one got away,” he said.

My stomach lurched as I thought of armored body parts infecting Rome’s population. Lydia’s mouth hung open as she processed his words.

“We’re on our way,” I said, waving to our driver to crank it up.

What’s that phrase? Rome didn’t fall in a day? That didn’t seem so true all of a sudden.

Chapter 11

Fairie, Idiria

The Winter Realm section of Idiria was fucked up. No other way to put it, Mack thought. Not his most literary description, but still true.

First of all, it was cold. Idiria was uniformly comfortable in temperature, probably seventy degrees Fahrenheit or so. But as soon as they crossed into the broad arc of rooms and apartments claimed by Winter, the temperature had dropped into the forties, which left goosebumps on the bare arms of his sister and Ashley. Stacia, of course, didn’t seem to notice as she stalked the hallways with predatory grace.

The creatures lurking about the passageways were the second part of the messed-up ambiance. Lots of scarred, muscular ape-like goblins, white fur stained blue, particularly around the mouth.

“What, do they eat blueberries or something?” Mack had asked when they first crossed into Morrigan’s territory.

“It’s blood. Natives of Fairie bleed blue. Something about the amount of copper in their bloodcells,” Ian had remarked.

Mack had been trying not to stare at a particularly nasty specimen, a broad, powerful white beast with an empty eye socket and a patch of scarred tissue on the side of its head. The goblin’s single remaining eye had locked onto Mack and the squat monster had started to straighten in aggression. Then Stacia growled. Just a single, deep kind of snarl and the goblin turned away.

“Don’t make eye contact, Mackling,” she said when they were past. “It’s just like wolves and New Yorkers—a direct challenge.”

There were other creatures about besides the goblins. A few snow white cats the size of Irish wolfhounds, at least one sasquatch, and dozens of elves, not to mention the hordes of pucks buzzing about.

Speaking of pucks, Pancho and company rode on Ashley and Ian’s shoulders, their glittering black eyes watching their flying counterparts with wary suspicion.

Stocan led them further into Winter’s vast warren of rooms, corridors, and suites. Mack was hoping Stacia or Dec could find their way back out if things went to hell because he was hopelessly lost.

They entered a long hallway of dark wooden columns, each carved in a different elegant and downright creepy manner. Wooden creatures chased wooden people up and around the polished surfaces of the telephone-pole-sized columns, each scene stranger than the last.

The corridor ahead of them ended at a large set of black double doors guarded by four elves in black dragonskin armor. Two of the guards held short, complex-looking bows, and the other two each held a Black Frost blade in their hands. Mack had seen Neeve wield one of her two morphing weapons before and had instantly decided his only hope for countering such a weapon was a gun and some distance.

The guard on the right had his weapon formed into some sort of a pike, like a six-foot shaft with an attached ax blade, shaped a bit like a cleaver, and a sharp spear point. The black-clad elf on the left was tapping his left hand with a long, curving sword of light-sucking black. The sword tapper looked at Stocan with a raised eyebrow.

“The Speaker and her company for Queen Morrigan as requested,” Stocan said, his tone mild and matter-of-fact.

Mack was aware of movement around and behind them, more black-clad bodies and several white-furred, squatty shapes. He kept his right hand on the grip of his patrol-slung rifle, noticing that his sister’s arms were crossed in front of her. He briefly wondered why until he saw the butt of her Glock sticking out of one of the magazine pouches on her chest pack. The sneaky little devil had it positioned right by her shooting hand.

Ian seemed bored, but his powerful little submachine gun was slung like Mack’s rifle, across his body and ready to go. Stacia was absently inspecting her fingernails on Ashley’s right side, while her boyfriend stood on the left side, one arm crossed like Jetta but holding something in each hand. Mack caught the gleam of steel between Declan’s fingers and realized he was holding at least one of his orbs o’ death, probably two.

“Just the Speaker,” the guard said.

“Just leaving,” Ian responded, turning back the way they came. Mack turned as well and spotted the six elves and three goblins lurking in the corridor they had just walked through. There was a familiar thrum and two round balls of steel floated as smooth as pistons to hover unmoving between the new guards and the little company. The clink of metal on metal told Mack his buddy was freeing up the last of his deathballs. Declan had come back from Maine with three of them, but a fourth had shown up after his Vegas trip, the visit that had bankrupted several insurance companies.

The first two balls had the complete attention of the elves Mack was facing, and he was thrilled to see them frown at the unmoving orbs. Smart Keeblers. Those balls were instant death and Declan could make them do crazy nasty things.

Before Thanksgiving break, Mr. Jenks had brought a few old cars into Arcane one day and let the students beat them up. Mack’s impression had been that the survival teacher had wanted to let the other kids see what werewolf and other shapeshifter children could do to steel and glass with their bare hands.

It had been eye-opening to see Dellwood rip a door right off, or their werebear friend, Justin, roll up the hood of the Corolla like a rug. But the real show had come when the weres had tired of their fun. Declan had unleashed his orbs. Watching a one-ton car get utterly destroyed by what was, for all intents, four remote controlled cannon balls flying at close to the speed of sound was mildly terrifying, even for the kid who called Declan roomie. He’d done more damage in sixty seconds than the whole pack of werewolves had in fifteen minutes. Mack had one particularly vivid memory of one of the orbs blasting down through the roof while a second had come up through the floor, passing each other as they tore free of the vehicle.

“Death metal is forbidden,” the sword slapper hissed as the archers pulled back on their strange little bows, which Mack could see had oddly shaped compound pulleys.

The right hand door to the queen’s chamber opened and the elf named Greer poked his head out.

“What is the delay,” he said, or at least that’s what Omega translated the words to in Mack’s ear, as the tall Guardian had spoken Elvish.

“I told the shit of the dragons that only she is allowed inside. They refused,” the lead elf replied in the same language. It was a little odd to hear the simultaneous translation, especially as Omega was somehow matching the voice qualities of each person so closely that it felt like they were doing their own translating.

“We refused and indicated we would leave. Your brother Guardians were willing to die trying to stop us,” Ian said in English.

The shifts in expression were very subtle, but Mack was starting to get a handle on elven facial expressions. The guards were all shocked that Ian had understood them, Greer not so much.

“Your grace in diplomacy will be noted to the queen. Did you consider that any one of the dragons could simply rip the ceiling open?” Greer said to the lead elf before turning to Ashley’s group. “You may, of course, bring your protectors, Speaker, although weapons must be sheathed,” he said, holding the door open wide and bowing his head slightly.

Declan’s orbs circled the party once in a silver, whistling blur before clinking into his messenger bag, one after the other.

“If you had killed them all before I got my hands on at least one, you’d have been sleeping with Mack,” Stacia said to her witch as they passed the four guards at the door.

“I would always save you a few, babe,” Declan said, moving through the doorway ahead of Ashley.

“When did he start calling you babe?” Jetta asked Stacia, who was following Ashley.

“Since never. That was the first and last time,” Stacia answered, her eyes still watching the guards as she disappeared into the room.

Greer still held the door as Mack, the last of the party, moved beyond the four furious guards. His earpiece hissed the translation of Greer’s final whispered words to the guards. “The queen heard your exchange with the Speaker’s party. She requested that I save you all from death at the hands of these Earth infants. If you fail as badly again, your ashes will be displayed on the wall of Shame for all of Queen Morrigan’s reign.”

Mack ignored the exchange and shifted his attention to the new environment his group found themselves in.

The room was immense, a long, wide rectangle filled with elves, goblins, and some things that Mack couldn’t even identify. It was a solid ten degrees colder than the outer corridor, putting the temperature right around freezing. Frost cobwebbed the glass of the windows high on the wall to Mack’s left and what looked like a dusting of snow wafted about the dark wooden floor. A long white carpet led down the center of the room to a dais and a crystalline throne that appeared to be made of solid ice. The queen’s massive sasquatch hulked near the right side of the throne and Neeve, slim and deadly in her black leathers, stood on the left, which would be the queen’s right.

Seated on the ice throne was Queen Morrigan, her own slender shape gowned in a thin glacier blue dress that left her legs bare from the knee down and her right shoulder exposed to the frozen surface of her chair. She watched them, unmoving, as Greer led them down the long carpet, passing the silent, staring eyes of the Winter Court.

Mack couldn’t help but notice that many of the female elves in attendance wore even less substantial clothing than the queen. In some cases, almost nothing.

A tap on his arm and a stern look from his sister was his reminder not to be distracted by the sights.

“Queen Morrigan, the Speaker and party, as ordered,” Greer said, bowing low to his mother.

The queen said nothing for several very long moments, just continuing to stare at Ashley while ignoring the others. Finally she raised one finger on her right hand, just barely lifting it from its position on the arm of her throne.

A dozen pucks flew over the throne, carrying a large, blood red pillow between them. The little shark-toothed killers landed the pillow on the floor between Ashley and Morrigan and then flew back to hover slightly above and behind the queen.

In the center of the two-foot square pillow rested a tiny, broken pile of silver metal and plastic.

“Is this yours?” the queen asked, her voice even colder than the room.

“No,” Ashley answered. Mack noticed neither of them had added any polite titles or honorifics.

“You will address the queen as your Majesty,” Neeve said.

“If you forgo titles, so will we,” Ian said.

Neeve drew a breath but froze when the queen raised one hand. “Still answering for you child, Ian?” Morrigan asked.

“Much as your child answers for you,” Ian said.

“Perhaps, in your ignorance, you do not recognize the importance of this situation, Speaker to the Dragons,” Morrigan said, turning away from the father and focusing on the daughter. “Let me illuminate you. This abomination was found in my halls. My advisors tell me it is most likely some type of observation device, formed into a mockery of true life. They tell me that only your people make objects like these.”

“Well, it’s tech. That’s for sure. Looks like a drone of some type—a micro drone. Mack, you follow military tech. Does this look like earth type spy stuff?” Ashley asked.

Mack was caught off-guard, having grown used to being more or less invisible during these kind of things. He looked from the little dragon speaker to the drone and then back up to find the queen and both her deadly children staring at him.

“Yeah, it’s Earth technology. Advanced, though. Very miniaturized. It would have to come from one of the big three: America, Russia or China. My bet would be America,” he said, concentrating on Ashley.

“Yeah, thanks. That’s what I thought. Probably from America, your Majesty,” Ashley said.

The queen looked at her blankly. “Are you not from America?” Morrigan asked.

“Yeah, but I’m not part of the government or military. I’m just in college,” Ashley said.

“You are saying, before the queen and her court, that you did not bring this device and use it to spy on the Winter court?” Neeve suddenly asked.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Not mine, I didn’t know about it, I didn’t bring it, I didn’t release it,” Ashley said. “Listen, the governments of our world all know about you and Fairie. That stunt you pulled when I was first kidnapped along with all those other kids brought you to the attention of the people in power. They consider you all a threat. So you shouldn’t be surprised that they would spy on you. Hell, you’ve been doing it to us for thousands of years. Turnaround is fair play.”

“There is no fair play, young Speaker,” the queen said, eyes studying Ashley. Suddenly her attention snapped around to Mack. “You. You know what this does?”

“Ah, it’s a drone, ma’am… er… your Majesty,” Mack corrected quickly at Ashley’s hiss of breath. “It, ah, looks like it is designed to fly and crawl, probably hides in corners and observes. Most likely it has a camera and microphone on it somewhere.”

“A what and a what?” the queen snapped.

“Devices to see and listen, your Majesty,” Ian answered. “A mechanical version of a puck or a Tink.”

“An abomination is what it is. Is this what you people do?” Morrigan asked.

“I’m not certain what exactly you’re asking, your Majesty?” Ashley asked after a quick glance at her father in confusion.

“You stain and defile life with your metals and poisons, destroying the very essence that sustains you?” the queen asked.

“We use metal and mechanicals as we do not yet have your skill with the biological sciences. As for destroying our environment, there are a great many humans who work to protect it and recruit more protectors,” Ashley said. “The school we all attend is very much dedicated to environmental protection.”

“Yet your defile Fairie with your mechanicals,” the queen said.

“I warned you all, back at the beginning, that you were dealing with a vastly different Earth than you were used to. I told you that stealing our children would paint you as threats,” Ian said. “You should be thankful that this is the only threatening thing to come through from our world.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Ian Moore. I would say you’ve brought more than one threatening thing to my world,” the queen said, turning her eyes to Declan, who had been very quiet and calm throughout the interview. Now he widened his eyes a bit, then gave her a slow nod. “Such arrogance,” the queen said, but her tone was even and without temper. “But let me show you what we think of your mechanicals.”

She leaned over the broken drone and started to speak some other language under her breath while using her right pointer finger to scribe circles in the air above it. The language sounded different from Elvish and there was no translation in Mack’s ear. She only spoke one or two sentences, whereas Mack was used to seeing and hearing the witches of Arcane go on for paragraphs. At her final word, a fat blue spark jumped from her finger to the micro drone and the tiny device vanished in on itself like a micro implosion.

There was silence in the hall and everyone held their breath, waiting. Nothing else happened and the queen finally sat back, looking thoughtful.

Mack turned and glanced at his roommate. Declan arched one eyebrow back at him.

“Sympathetic magic. Linking threads and connections back to either others like it or to its makers,” Declan said softly. The queen’s head snapped around to stare at him.

“And how do you judge my efforts?” she asked. Mack’s danger sensors went wild at her deceptively quiet tone. Keep the mouth under control Dec, please, he chanted in his head.

“I don’t know, your Majesty. Your spell had an obvious and powerful impact on the micro drone, but I didn’t feel any others implode. Maybe it was by itself, or maybe the connection only works if the gateway to Earth is open,” he said.

“Or maybe the tangled paths that link it to others of its kind were already severed?” she mused, studying him with narrowed eyes. Abruptly she sat up straight, expression shifting to bored. “Enough. This audience is at an end,” she said, standing smoothly. Mack had somehow forgotten how beautiful the Winter Queen was until that moment. As her slender frame moved away from her throne, following the bulk of her smelly, massive Bigfoot guard, he was reminded that she was both wholly alien and at the same time incredibly hot.

She paused and looked back, her deadly daughter stopping just behind her. “Good day to you, Speaker,” she said, her gaze traveling over all of them for a second before she turned and exited the room, Mack shivering slightly as her eyes slid over him.

The instant after she left, the room became noisy, as the elves of the Winter court conversed while simultaneously turning intense and curious stares on Ashley’s party.

“This way, Speaker,” Stocan spoke up, appearing from the back of the crowd, his white suit standing out among the blacks, grays, blues, and dark browns that most of the elves wore. At least those elves that wore anything, Mack thought, his eyes getting caught on various exposed parts of female elven anatomy.

“Eyes back in your head, brother,” Jetta said loud enough for Ashley to glance back at them. For some reason, that embarrassed Mack more than he cared for.

They exited the throne room, the glowering guards closing the doors behind them.

The hall of wooden columns stretched before them, like an orderly row of trees in a dark and ornate forest.

“Gotta keep your mind off the boobs, Mack,” Jetta added, breaking the camel’s back on his temper.

“Nah, ‘cause I can always just follow the fart cloud you always produce after too much venison. You ate a lot last night,” he shot back with a brother’s knowledge of her digestive issues.

“You ass,” she hissed, red face, her left hand slamming his shoulder and knocking him up on one foot.

She started a second strike at his shoulder but he caught her arm. That’s why they both went flying when the white goblin hit them. Mack had an instant’s perception of a bulky mass leaping from between one set of columns. The next instant, he was falling, his sister falling with him even though his hand had released its grip on her arm. The polished sides of two more columns, a ripple of mirror, his stomach twisting in sudden, severe cramps, and then a jarring impact on dirt and pine needles.

He sat up, untangling his feet from his sister’s sprawled and groaning form. The corridor was gone, replaced by a real forest with real trees, with a cold breeze rattling the bluish-green needles of evergreens he’d never laid eyes on before.

“Ah, I don’t think we’re in the city anymore,” he said to Jetta, who was sitting up and looking as bewildered as he felt.

“According to my best estimates, you are seven hundred and twenty-six miles east of Idiria and twenty-one miles north of the neural zone border,” Omega’s voice said into his earpiece.

“That was a portal?” Jetta guessed, touching her own earpiece to reseat it.

“Apparently a one-time, one-way temporary portal constructed as a trap,” Omega said.

“What happened to the others? Is Ashley okay?” Jetta asked.

“The others are fine. Stacia killed the goblin before it could regain its feet and they are demanding an investigation, but there is no obvious evidence as to who set this trap. The goblin was painted white. Its fur was actually black underneath, which leaves it unattached to either court. I have informed Father and the others of your approximate location and condition. Unfortunately, I only have three micro units on you, Mack, and two on you, Jetta. They will not be able to provide any defensive use to you and their ability to recharge your phones is severely limited. I must go silent now, as triangulating your positions has exhausted the units’ limited power for now. I will contact you again shortly. Let the units get near your skin, as they will convert body heat to electrical energy for charging. Goodbye.”

“Wait, Omega? Omega?” Mack asked. The earpiece stayed quiet. Mack could feel little feet crawling from under his collar and onto his neck. He shuddered but stopped his hand from automatically slapping as the units moved up into his hair.

“That’s friggin itchy as hell,” his sister said as she got to her feet and checked her rifle.

“That itch is our ticket back to the others. Declan will find a way to get to us as long as Omega can track us,” Mack said, checking his own rifle, “or maybe they’ll just fly a dragon here.”

“I’ve got two mags on my vest, one in each cargo pocket, one in the gun, and a ten rounder in my shirt. That’s one hundred and ten 7.62. I have, between the drum and all my pistol mags, a hundred and sixty-three rounds of 9mm,” Jetta said, turning to him.

He checked all his vest pouches and the cargo pockets the city elves had cleverly copied onto his dragonskin pants. His rifle and Jetta’s could both use the same M1A magazines and most of their Glock magazines were interchangeable as well. That was purely by design.

“Five on the vest, two in pants pockets, one locked and loaded, and two ten rounders. That makes… one-eighty of 7.62 and one-sixty-six of 9mm. Also got my Charter Arms Bulldog with five loaded and another ten rounds of .44 Special in two speedloaders,” he said, patting the side of his shirt. The little revolver was tucked in an undershirt holster under his arm, the speedloaders on the opposite side.

“Oh, I forgot the PMR-30. Two thirty round mags and a box of 50 .22 mags in my pocket,” his sister said, patting her own shirt and side.

“So that’ll get us through the night. What’ll we do tomorrow?” he asked, looking at the forest around them.

“No joke, Mack. Ashley was telling me about this world. It’s almost all wild because there aren’t that many elves and there are tons of predators. We need to find a defensible place to camp till help gets here… if help gets here,” Jetta said.

“Dec will friggin rip that city apart, Jetta, till he gets to us,” Mack said, a touch fiercely.

She turned and patted his arm, brushing off some dirt. “Declan is a force of nature and I know he will try, but he’s got a lot stacked against him, even with Stacia and his computer, plus they gotta guard Ashley. We’ve got to take care of ourselves for the foreseeable future.”

“Point. And we always take care of ourselves. We’re damned good at it,” he said. After a pause, he continued, “Sorry about the fart comment.”

She sighed. “I know. I embarrassed you in front of Ashley, but for the love of God, Mack, why don’t you just tell her that you like her?”

“That obvious?”

“It is to me. Probably obvious to Dec and Stacia too,” Jetta said.

“Okay, as soon as we get back with the others, I’ll talk to her. Probably scare her right the hell away,” he said.

“She friggin’ translates for dragons. She’s not scared of a little old Mack Sutton,” Jetta said.

“Probably scared of that ass ripper you let go last night. Honestly Jetta, I though you’d ripped a hole in space and time.”

She threw a stick at him, but she was laughing as she did it.

“Space and time?” she asked.

“Thought there’d be a gap in midair and a bunch of Spielberg’s Jurassic monsters coming through,” he said, laughing at his own comment.

That’s when they heard the scream. Long, terrified, female… and really close.

Chapter 12

Chris

Rome

Rome burned… again. Wow, dramatic much? Not my normal shtick, but sometimes you’ve got to try new things, right?

Anyway, part of Rome burned, a very small part, just a bit around San Clemente, but anytime buildings older than the United States burn down it’s a bad thing, especially when they’re only a few blocks from the Colosseum. The fires were contained to a tiny block of buildings just south of Basilica di San Clemente, a strip that seemed to have housed several cafes, an Italian post office, and some apartments. Soldiers, police, and lots of firefighters surrounded the tiny block, but the firefighters weren’t trying to put out the fires. They were letting them burn, which was causing said firefighters a whole lot of stress. I’m sure all their instincts told them to put those flames down, but the senior officers were taking direction from government people who seemed to be taking direction from Senka.

I headed for the knot of important types only to be intercepted by a blue-eyed angel.

“Couldn’t stay back?” I asked my vampire, already sure of her answer.

“I tried. Can’t do it. Nika, Doc Singh, and about twenty vampires and human staff are handling the twins. I need to be here,” she stated, arching one eyebrow to see if I was stupid enough to argue.

“Sounds good, zayka,” I said. “Let’s go see what trouble your grandma’s up to.”

She glanced sideways at me as we walked but I was focused on the group up ahead. As we got close, I slipped in one final comment. “You’re never gonna be the stay-at-home type.”

She looked at me for a second, then a rueful grin slipped into place. “Doesn’t seem to be in my DNA,” she said.

Senka turned from her conversation with two crewcut middle-aged men in black suits, cutting off one’s stream of Italian in mid-sentence. “If you are done with your couple’s moment, we have a situation here,” she said to us. Her expensive designer pantsuit was torn, stained, and smelled of smoke, and there were smudges of soot on her cheek.

“I’m guessing something, a hand or big toe, got away?” I asked, raising a brow at her appearance.

“Several somethings. We didn’t have it easy like you, Christian. Two of the team were infected,” she said.

“Looks like you had fun nonetheless?” Tanya asked.

Her ancient, world-dominating vampire grandmother stared hard at her—for like six seconds, then suddenly grinned. “It was a hell of a fight, dear.”

“Elder Senka and Security Chief Arkady fought a tremendous battle. They managed to destroy one weaponized individual and most of the second. Two mobile body parts escaped into the buildings you see. Their Carabineri contingent helped clear the residents while they set the fires,” Omega said from the phone in my pocket.

“And they didn’t get past this block and into another one?” I asked.

“I was able to blanket the streets with drones. Nothing was detected crossing any of the surface streets. I am unable to make that observation for subterranean passages or sewage systems, however.”

“What about the evacuees?” Tanya asked.

“We have checked them thoroughly. None have been infected,” Senka said.

“And they just let you burn down a block?” I asked.

“Not withstanding the issue with anyone letting me do anything, the Italian authorities have been exceedingly cooperative,” Senka said.

“I have informed the world’s governments of the dangers of this attack, providing all the information, data, and evidence we have to date. They have, for the most part, wisely chosen to listen,” Omega said.

“And of course that has nothing to do with the fact that you control all of the world’s nuclear weapons, does it?” I asked.

Senka raised both eyebrows high, looking at Tanya, who simply nodded.

“That fact does seem to lend some credibility to my presentation,” Omega said.

“It controls all the atomic weapons?” Senka asked, possibly the most surprised I have ever seen her.

“I will not allow myself, my father, or the planet to suffer weapons humans have no business wielding.”

“Omega’s a bit precocious,” I said with a wink. Seeing the senior elder of the Coven knocked off her stride was easily the highpoint of the night.

“I don’t know whether to be delighted or terrified. What don’t you control, Mr. Omega?” Senka asked, highly interested. I could about hear the gears of plot and domination turning in her head.

“If it’s tech, he pretty much owns it,” I said.

“Not entirely accurate, but close. If it has wifi or Bluetooth connectivity or is hardwired to any system with Internet access, I have influence. Stand-alone systems require additional steps to be integrated.”

“He is Borg… you will be assimilated,” I said in my best monotone.

Senka just gave me look, the kind reserved for special idiots. Tanya snorted what might have been an aborted laugh. “You, my Chosen, are an immense geek,” she said.

“Resistance is futile,” Omega said, at which Senka turned to Tanya with a questioning look and Tanya turned to me, mildly alarmed.

“Your father would be proud of that one, Omega,” I said, grinning ear to ear.

“He would, wouldn’t he? I got that one correct,” Omega said.

“Perfect delivery and timing,” I said. “His sense of humor is pretty much in my wheelhouse,” I said to Senka.

“Because he learned his from a nineteen-year-old boy and yours has never advanced beyond that stage,” Tanya said.

“Exactly,” I agreed.

“These must be modern cultural references that I’m missing. Despite my curiosity about this mysterious borscht you are all becoming, I would like to point out that we are burning down buildings that are older than most Darkkin. This situation needs to be grasped firmly and crushed,” Senka said.

“Yeah, I want to go into the church and see where you found them,” I said. “I find it interesting that every portal so far has been under a church.”

Senka led the way into the Basilica di San Clemente and then down under it. The underground ruins where they had fought the two infected were now even more ruined. Broken rock and brick littered the floor, glaring gaps in the wall where whole sections had been ripped loose. A pair of men in biohazard suits were spraying the stained floors and surviving walls with what smelled to be a powerful acid.

I moved past them and into another ancient room, this one undisturbed by recent combat.

“Barbiel?” I called. “Barbiel, a moment if you please.”

Senka looked at me like my sanity ship had sailed without its captain. A second later, her head snapped around to look at the new person leaning against the far wall. I could almost feel her try to understand how a being had entered a one-door room without her fantastic senses detecting him.

“Yes, oh mighty fallen one and the fallen one’s beautiful better half?” Barbiel said, winking at Tanya.

“Barbiel, why is it that every one of these gates happen to be under a Catholic church?” I asked.

“Are you not going to introduce me to the wise Elder of the Darkkin Coven?” Barbiel asked, looking at Senka.

“This screams for a comment about your recent penchant for reckless exposure to the masses, but it would zoom right over your curly hair,” I said. “Elder Senka, meet the Angel Barbiel. Barbiel, meet Elder Senka.”

He bowed to her as she arched on eyebrow and smiled one of her less lethal smiles.

Tanya turned to me. “Penchant?”

“I try to upgrade my vocabulary when your grandmother is around. I think it’s the Oxford accent,” I said, which earned me one of Senka’s more lethal smiles—the kind that reveal the sharp tips of her fangs.

“So, yes, the portals delivering this attack do happen to be under churches,” Barbiel said with a smirk.

“Let me guess. You had a hand in influencing the church to establish permanent locations at these places?” I asked.

He laughed. “We had a hand. Not just me,” he said.

“You and your brothers, or the we that includes Christian and me,” Tanya asked.

“Yes,” he said, looking smug. I sighed loudly. He held up both hands. “Neither of you will remember, but yes, a group of us used our influence with the church to cover these portals.”

“And I find it highly improbable that a Vatican guard would find the first infected so rapidly without some divine guidance,” I said.

“That would border on cheating, Christian,” Barbiel said, “But I am pretty serious about church security.”

“What I don’t understand is why now?” Senka asked. We all turned to look at her.

“Why not invade back when the pagan religions worshiped those gateways and probably would have offered themselves up to be infected?”

“Perhaps, Elder, the gateways led to a world inhabited by people that the pagans of Rome might feel were gods, but now it is inhabited by a people with better weapons of war than the first group,” Barbiel suggested.

“You’re saying that wherever those gates lead, the original inhabitants have been conquered by this unseen enemy?” Tanya asked.

“There are many children in Yahweh’s universe, or at least, there have been many. Not all are still with us,” he said.

“And some angels are assigned to them, and some are assigned to us,” I said.

He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “And some have to be reassigned when their flocks have vanished.”

“And you don’t want your flock to vanish,” Tanya said, earning herself a nod and a smile.

“Did we kill all the infected parts by burning down the block?” Senka asked.

“I am not omniscient. I cannot answer that. My advice is to be on ultra high guard. This weapon has been very successful for the enemy you face. I can say that I am pleased and not a little surprised at the speed with which you have notified the governments of this world,” he said.

“Digital age and all that,” I said.

“Hah. It was Declan’s machine child that did it,” Barbiel said. “Some of my unassigned brothers are rooting for that new child to thrive.”

“Omega gets his own angels?” Tanya asked.

“That hasn’t been determined yet, but when one’s team has been destroyed, one tends to move one’s allegiance to a new player,” Barbiel said. “The fact that you are both on the same team is a definite bonus.”

“Look at you with all the sports references,” I said.

“I know, right?” he agreed. “Have to go. Keep vigilant and at some point, not yet mind you, but you might look to recall your young gifted friend from his side trip. It might worth extra points.”

And he was gone.

“He’s definitely growing into his sense of humor, isn’t he?” Tanya asked.

I nodded, watching Senka watch the space our angel had occupied.

“Fascinating,” she said, doing a rather appropriate if unintentional impression of another Star Trek character.

Chapter 13

Some forest, Fairie

They moved as fast as they could, but their experience hunting werewolves and their more recent training at College Arcane had taught them to go cautiously. Smooth, careful, and as rapidly as their situational awareness would allow.

The evergreen forest they had landed in was thick with younger trees. As they moved toward the location of the scream, the trees got older and more space appeared between each conifer, at least at ground level. The air was cold, but not too frigid.

The reduction in ground vegetation was a relief to Mack. He had his Socom 16 CQB up and ready, chamber loaded and safety off, finger indexed above the trigger guard. A glance at his sister showed her Mossberg MVP Patrol held in the same condition.

Both rifles had been gifts from Declan after his lucrative summer job at Demidova Corp. Mack’s rifle cost a bundle, but Jetta wanted the short, light, handy, and inexpensive Mossberg. There was enough of a price difference that Declan had bought her the Glock 19 that was back in its hip holster.

A second scream came, closer, now more angry than afraid. And now they could hear snarls—multiple snarls and growls, along with chirps and squeals.

The terrain they followed was gradually climbing uphill, but there were swales and hillocks all around and they found themselves in a natural depression between two raised sections of forest. The micro valley followed a bend and rose up to meet the two hills which leveled out into a flat space at the base of a big outcropping of layered rock.

Halfway up the thrust of stone, two figures were crouched beneath an overhang, fending off a pack of fast-moving two-legged creatures that looked like… turkeys.

Large, lightly feathered turkeys with big claws on their feet, long, wingless arms equipped with more claws, whip-like tails, and arching necks that held up slender, toothy heads. They bounded and leapt at the ledge, their attempts thwarted by a slender, female figure with a long spear. The girl guarded a smaller form behind her.

“Jurassic?” Jetta asked in a hiss. It was quiet and meant just for him, but four toothy heads whipped around their way at the sound. Just as well, because Mack had already braced up his rifle, found one brown feathered body in the crosshairs of his Leupold Scout scope, and was just squeezing the trigger.

A short-barreled rifle, chambered in .308, has a hell of a report and Mack’s rifle held up the tradition with high honors. The muzzle blast and the roar of the shot froze all the vicious little raptors as well as the girl with the spear, froze all except for Mack’s target, which went down like it had been hit by lightning.

Jetta’s shot came next, just a millisecond after Mack’s first and just before his second shot. Two more vicious hunters exploded off their feet. The survivors were quick, though: two immediately starting toward this new threat. Mack’s third shot came two seconds before his sister’s second, which told him she’d racked the bolt action on her gun not all that much slower than his semi-auto had cycled itself.

Both charging raptors went down and instantly, the remainder took off into the forest in a synchronized exodus that reminded Mack of a flock of birds changing flight at the same time. They were very fast.

The girl on the ledge was staring at them, eyes wide, spear clutched across her body, breathing heavily and ignoring the thrashing of one raptor who hadn’t fully taken to death yet. A smaller face peered at them from around the side of the spear-wielder’s leg and Mack thought it was a little boy.

They approached the youngsters cautiously, eyes roving over the forest, rifles held ready. They stopped twenty feet from the rocky outcrop to look at the first of the dead critters.

“You’re right! That’s a friggin’ velociraptor, or close enough. Look, big toe claw, nasty hand claws, and about a thousand teeth,” Mack said.

“Thought they’d be bigger,” Jetta said.

“Nah, that’s just Hollywood. But don’t think these things can’t F you up in a hurry. Look at those claws!”

“Hey, are you all right?” Jetta asked the girl on the ledge.

Mack looked up for her response and met a pair of bright hazel eyes. At first, he though they were green and then her head shifted and he thought they might be blue, and then they were both. She held her spear ready but her expression was now curious instead of scared. Her hair was a dark auburn, bundled up in a tight knot at the back of her head. The boy had the same eyes but hair that was true brown. Still, they were related, Mack thought as he studied them. The girl said something to them in a heavy accent, but Mack understood none of it.

The boy shifted up to his feet and Mack saw the blood at the same time Jetta gasped. “He’s hurt!” she said, starting to sling her rifle.

“Hold up. Let me reload, then you do the same, then you can try to help him, but I’m not sure his sister’s gonna let you get near,” Mack said.

“Hurry, then. He’s bleeding a lot,” Jetta said.

“I’m done,” Mack said, finishing his mag swap. “Your turn, then see if she’ll let you approach.”

Jetta snapped out the mag on her gun, replaced it with a fresh one, pocketed the partial, and slung her rifle in one fast series of expert motions.

Daddy Sutton had taught his kids marksmanship and weapon handling at an early age, and they’d had a ton of practice since to hone their skills.

Reaching into a little pouch on her chest rig, Jetta pulled out a first aid packet. Mr. Jenks, the College Arcane survival instructor, had put every kid in Arcane through a wilderness EMT course and now all the kids carried small trauma kits with them everywhere, even the fast-healing werewolves. The Arcane kits had some state-of-the-art wound pads that were treated with fast-clotting agents. Jetta held up her bandage pad to the girl on the ledge and then pointed at the boy. Understanding flashed across the face that Mack realized wasn’t much younger than his own and the girl nodded to Jetta, waving her to come up. She spoke more words, but none of it was any clearer.

Jetta looked for a way up; the ledge was about ten feet above them. The girl used her spear to point out a path of hand and footholds and a few seconds later, Jetta was at the boy’s side, smiling and talking softly as she treated a long, deep tear on his left arm.

After watching Jetta work for a few seconds while making reassuring comments to the little boy, spear girl stepped back a bit and turned her eyes to the forest.

Mack had been dividing his attention between the forest and the girl, trying to keep an eye on both. The wounded raptor was still thrashing and now that the threat to his sister seemed lessened, Mack moved over to put it down.

He used the butt of his rifle to knock down its head and hold it against the ground, then unsheathed his bowie to decapitate it. One fast stroke and it was over, the body still vibrating with nerves.

A sharp gasp brought him around fast, looking for danger, but the spear girl was staring at him, not the woods.

“She can’t be shocked that I killed it?” he asked Jetta, confused.

“I think she’s staring at your blade, not you,” Jetta said, wrapping the wound. “Did you notice her spear? It looks like bronze.”

Mack glanced at the spear tip while wiping his blade off on the raptor’s body. Jetta was likely right, it was bronze.

“You think they don’t use iron, or maybe it’s forbidden?” he asked his sister, watching the spear girl as her wide eyes followed his knife blade. He held it up for the girl to look at, giving her raised eyebrows.

“This world does not have iron ore in any great quantities in the surface layers. It is buried deep in the core. That scarcity, combined with the harsh rules of the Winter and Summer Courts, would make iron weapons very rare,” Omega suddenly said.

“Omega! You’re back,” Mack said, touching his earpiece to keep it seated.

“For a bit. I’ll have to come and go till we can get your cell phones powered up. Declan wants me to remind you that you packed a small solar charger. He thinks you may have packed it in the pouch on the back of your vest.”

Feeling like an idiot, Mack reached a hand up to pat the pouch clipped to his vest. He felt the flattish form of the folded-up charger.

“Yeah, it’s official… I’m an idiot,” he said.

“Been official for years,” Jetta said. “Omega, who are these people?”

“Her language seems to be a mixture of Scottish Gaelic and old English, with a few Scandinavian words thrown in. She called the creatures eorbe iolair, which might translate as ground or earth eagle. You were right Jetta—the specimens on the ground appear to be Velociraptor mongoliensis, which lived in the Cretaceous period, not the Jurassic, approximately seventy-five million years ago.”

“How could they be here?” Mack asked.

“The people or the raptors?”

“Both?” Mack asked, staring at the girl, who was looking between him and his sister, eyes wide.

“Earth and Fairie share space. My current theory is that space is folded in such a way that the planets are separated by millions of light years on one hand and a very thin quantum membrane on the other. Natural portals have opened throughout history, and species may have crossed back and forth.”

“Are the others working on getting to us?” Jetta asked as she patted the boy’s good arm and stood up.

The girl with the spear asked a question.

“She’s asking where you got the knife,” Omega translated in Mack’s ear.

“How do I tell her I made it?” he asked.

The phone in his pants pocket suddenly spoke, the language a match for the girl’s—utterly incomprehensible to Mack.

Eyes that were huge looked at his midsection. Jetta burst out in laughter.

“Your friggin pants just answered her,” she said, trying to breathe.

“I told her you made it and that you are a blacksmith. You should hook up the solar charger immediately.”

Jetta climbed down to Mack, who turned so she could get at the pouch on his back. She pulled out the charger and moved away.

“Hey, where are you going with that?” he demanded.

“My phone’s got like thirteen percent power. I’m going to use it first,” she said matter-of-factly.

He pulled his own phone, aware that the spear girl was still watching him in wonder. His smartphone had twenty-two percent power so he just watched as his sister unfolded the soft solar panel, laying it in the sun and plugging it into her phone.

Sounds of something large brought them all to their feet. Scratch that. Many large somethings.

The Sutton kids exchanged a look and then both climbed up on the ledge with the girl and her brother.

The sounds got louder. Suddenly, men on horses burst through the trees, two, three, no… seven in total. Dressed in thick leather armor and carrying spears and crossbows, the latter immediately pointed at Mack and Jetta. The Sutton kids already had their rifles pointed back. The obvious leader, a large bearded blond man on a huge black horse, shouted a command at them.

“Put down your weapons and kneel or die,” Omega translated into their earpieces.

The spear girl shouted back at him. “They saved us from a pack of earth eagles, Sergeant.” The translation came at almost the same speed as her words. There was the smallest of delays, but Mack and Jetta were effectively hearing it real time.

“Put down those weapons,” the leader repeated.

“Yours first,” Mack said back at him, crosshairs on one of the crossbowmen. “I’ve got left and center.”

“I have right,” his sister said, affirming her target coverage.

“Sergeant, they have rendered us aid and protection,” the girl said.

“They will put down their weapons or die, Lady Iona,” the burly horseman said.

“Their weapons speak thunder and throw lightning and they are wearing dragon skins,” the girl, Iona, said. “I do not like the odds for you and your men, Sergeant Kellan.”

“Your father’s men, my lady. If they kill us, remember it is your father’s men who died,” Sergeant Kellan said, giving her a meaningful look.

Mack sensed the girl moving closer and started to turn to look. A truck slammed into the back of his head and everything went black.

Fire. Fire burning through his skull was what woke him. That and the rhythmic pounding of his face against warm skin and fur. He was draped over something—something big that was warm and walking. Horse. It was called a horse.

Mack opened his eyes and instantly regretted it. Shooting pains and bright light and the momentary blurry vision of moving ground. Not worth it. He took stock. Arms were bound and dangling in front of him. Feet also seemed bound. Head hurt like Thor had been pounding it with Mjölnir for hours. He tried the eyes again. Still too bright, still much hurting. Third time was the charm—they stayed open. The forest floor moved by beneath him. His horse was brown. A yellow-green and black-striped leg wearing a familiar boot was about a foot from his face in a stirrup. He tried tilting his head but sharp, biting pain brought tears to his eyes and a sharp gasp of air.

“Don’t move around. You might be concussed,” his sister said softly from above him. “The girl knocked you into Tuesday with her spear. By the time I got my gun on her, she had the point drawing blood from your throat. Not many options. Plus one of the bastards shot me. Didn’t penetrate the dragonskin, but it hurt like hell.”

“They shot you?” he said, anger replacing the pain.

“It was just pointed wood at the tip. Maybe their version of a rubber buck shotgun round,” Jetta said. “We’re being taken to the kid’s father’s keep.”

“Quiet, girl.” The translation came as Sergeant Kellan spoke.

Mack wriggled a bit, taking more stock of himself. He felt the hard lump of his little .44 Special revolver pressing into his armpit and the matching two speed loaders under the other arm. It felt like at least a couple of his smaller hideaway blades might have been missed, but most of his gear seemed gone. Still had the paracord bracelets on both wrists though. The rope binding his arms was tied right over them. There was lots of stuff in those two woven bundles of parachute cord. His fingers found the X-Acto hobby blade tucked into the buckle of his left bracelet.

“Father is aware you have been taken prisoner. He had Ashley petition the dragons to fly him and Stacia out here but they refused. He’s very upset,” Omega said softly in Mack’s ear.

“Hhhowmuchhhh,” Mack coughed.

“I have never seen him quite this angry. He is arguing very forcibly with the dragons and the queens. Ashley has refused to continue to translate for the negotiations. That may have been the purpose of dividing the party in the first place. It is a very tense situation. I fear that Father will do something rash and irreversible.”

“Declan rash? Let me put on my surprised face,” Jetta murmured.

“I said quiet,” Sergeant Kellan said, coming alongside them on his black stallion.

“We should have let the raptors eat Lady Iona and her brother. And we should have shot you and your men on sight, Sergeant,” Jetta said, her phone translating her words into gibberish.

“You are both trussed and helpless. Threats seem ill-advised,” Kellan replied, his voice even and calm.

“I wasn’t threatening; I was learning from my mistakes. I’ll leave the threats to my friends back in Idiria,” Jetta said.

“Last time. Quiet,” the sergeant said. Mack felt the prick of something sharp on the back of his neck and heard his sister’s angry hiss. But she kept quiet and they plodded on, Mack moving only the fingers of his right hand.

After a time, the point in his neck was removed and Sergeant Kellan moved off. After what seemed like days but was likely only an hour or so, the ground under his horse became a flat, packed road. Fifteen minutes after that, they heard voices yelling out greetings, and the sounds of other horses, as well as the bangs, clangs, and general sounds of a village.

Heavy vertical log walls appeared in Mack’s limited vision and then they were inside a fortified structure of some type. More men yelled greetings and the horse he and Jetta shared came to a stop.

Hands grabbed his legs and pulled him over and down, letting him fall to the ground. Legs too numb to fully do his bidding, Mack let his body collapse in a bastardized version of a judo break-fall. The flash of searing pain in his head was probably not as bad as if might have been if he’d fallen differently, like say, head first.

Hands gripped his ankles and the sound of a blade clearing leather came just before he felt someone sawing through his leg bindings. Then he was pulled to his feet, his blurry eyes noting the bronze seax knife that a warrior-type was holding, its edge looking quite sharp.

They were inside a big palisade wall, and the horses their party had ridden were being led away to a stable built against one of the walls. He shuffled around, finding his sister looking at him with a worried expression, her own hands bound in front of her.

Kellan was carefully taking the wounded boy from one of his riders, and the spear girl appeared by his side to grip the boy’s good hand. “We must see Father, Sergeant. Right away,” she said, the slight delay between words and translation adding to Mack’s disorientation.

“You alright?” Jetta whispered.

“Silence!” Kellan said before turning to the girl. “Seeing your father is first on the list, Lady Iona.” The big warrior turned and led the way, two men coming up on Mack, one to either side, grabbing his arms while another grabbed his sister.

Mack stumbled as he was shoved and yanked forward, his sister hissing immediately. “Leave him be you assholes. He’s hurt.”

The phone in her pocket translated and the men all came to a stop, Sergeant Kellan turning with questioning eyes. “You have magic?”

Jetta shook her head. “We have tools… tools that translate your words. No offense, Omega, but I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“No offense taken, Miss Jetta, although I believe there are multiple connotations to being called a tool,” Omega replied in their earpieces.

“Seems like magic to me,” Kellan said, having missed the earpiece conversation.

“We’re not the ones with magic. That’s our friend. He’ll be following us here soon,” Mack said, his own phone making the translation.

Kellan exchanged a look with Iona and then turned, moving forward brusquely.

They entered a giant stone and log building, tramping through a center entrance hall and into a massive great room with vaulted log ceilings and balconies all around it. A stone fireplace big enough for a pig roast held pride of place in the middle of one long wall directly across from a big raised chair that Mack could only call a throne.

The man sitting in the boss’s chair was middle-aged, large-framed, and bearded, his black hair shot through with wisps of gray. He was surrounded by a mixed group of men and women, all of whom turned and regarded the new arrivals with different looks of surprise or wariness.

A tall, handsome woman of middle years rushed forward to Iona and her brother, but where the boy allowed himself to be gathered into her arms, his older sister held herself back and kept her eyes on the man in the chair.

“Father, these strangers saved us from a pack of earth eagles,” she said, waving a hand at Mack and Jetta. One of the guards moved forward and dropped a bundle of things on the ground at the lord’s feet. Mack realized it was their weapons and gear, and he moved a bit to his left as he realized the muzzle of his own rifle was jutting out of the heap and pointing right at his head.

“This one treated Aillig’s wounded arm and that one is an Iron smith,” Iona said. “And they wear dragon skins.”

Her father looked from his daughter to the two of them, eyes narrowed as he took in their details for himself.

“Iron smith?” he asked.

Iona moved to the pile of weapons and load-bearing gear, pulling Mack’s bowie free from its Kydex sheath. She held the Damascus blade up for all to see.

Mack, whose head was still splitting itself over and over, saw caution, greed, outrage, and fear on the faces around them, but the lord of the settlement just looked thoughtful, holding out his hand for the weapon.

Iona placed the blade in her father’s hand and stepped back as he inspected it. He looked up suddenly, eyebrows raised. “You made this?”

Mack started to nod but thought better of it. “Yes,” he said, his phone in his pocket translating it.

“Magic!” a new voice cried and a skinny man with sallow skin and greasy black hair separated from the crowd to point his finger accusingly at Mack and Jetta.

“They say it is just smith work, Father. Not magic,” Iona said hastily.

“True,” Mack replied. “We’re not the ones that do magic.”

“Who are you?” the lord finally asked.

“I’m Mack, this is my sister Jetta, and we are part of the Speaker for the Dragons’ party,” Mack said.

“Do you take Lord Clacher for a fool, boy? There is no Dragon Speaker. There hasn’t been one for an age,” the greasy skinny man said.

“Actually, there hasn’t been one for over a thousand years, at least that’s the figure that Queen Morrigan used. Ashley Moore is the first,” Jetta said.

Silence greeted her words. After a second, the skinny man went to speak, but Lord Clacher raised one hand for quiet.

“Ye used the queen’s name, girl. This is her land. She’ll know you spoke of her,” he said, both warning and curiosity in his tone.

“That’s fine. She already knows we’re here. Our friend told her,” Jetta said. “He’ll be coming for us soon.” The last part was said almost as a warning.

“Ye speak of the queen of this realm as if ye know her,” the lord said.

“Yeah, we’ve met her. As we said, we’re part of the Speaker’s party. The Speaker and both queens are in Idiria for negotiations. We got knocked into a portal trap and sent here. But Declan and Stacia will be coming for us,” Jetta said.

“Knocked into a trap, you say? Dropping the queen’s name and talking about a person who has been dead for, as you say, a thousand years? And someone coming to get ye?” Lord Clacher asked.

Mack tried to catch his sister’s eye but she was staring at the lord of the keep.

“Ashley is the new Speaker. She translates for Gargax and Trygon, whose molted skins we wear, by the way. We came with her from Earth,” Jetta said. “Declan will find a way to open the portal to here or get one of the dragons to fly here.”

Her last words drew a gasp from the entire crowd, which then got instantly noisy with side conversations.

“Quiet!” Lord Clacher yelled. “Ye come from the old world? And who’s this Declan yer going on about?”

Mack coughed to get Jetta’s attention but she ignored him. “Declan is the most powerful witch ever born,” she said.

The lord’s face went slack for a second, then came back together in anger while the skinny man hissed in shock and fear. “We do not suffer witches!” he said.

“Yeah, Queen Zinnia said the same, but the law about witches doesn’t apply to the Speaker. She gets to bring anyone she wants, and she brought a witch,” Jetta said.

“Ye’ve met the Summer Queen as well?” Lord Clacher asked, rubbing his beard with one large hand.

“As well as Eirwen and Neeve and Neeve’s brother Greer. I told you. We’re part of the Speaker’s party. You need to release us,” Jetta said.

“Ye come here throwing names about and waving fancy blades and presume to tell me what I must do?” Clacher asked.

Jetta froze up, her default reaction whenever she realized she’d overstepped.

“What my sister means to say, Lord Clacher, is that we arrived some distance away, rescued your children from vicious predators, and were taken prisoner by your guardsman. Obviously this is your land and your keep so we are at your mercy, but she thought you should be aware that eventually, people will be coming to find us,” Mack said smoothly, wincing and rubbing the side of his head with his bound hands.

“Smooth talk. Too smooth. I almost prefer the girl’s version. What proof of any of this do you have?” Lord Clacher asked.

“Why, Father, look at these wondrous weapons and forgings,” Iona said, reaching down to grab a rifle barrel.

“NO!!!” Jetta and Mack roared simultaneously. The rifle, which happened to be Jetta’s, resisted coming out of the pile, part of Mack’s leg holster buckle getting caught in the trigger guard. The gun roared and high above their heads, one of the smaller beam braces exploded into splinters. Iona dropped the gun and shook her hand while the rest of the onlookers covered their ears and crouched.

“Magic,” the greasy man exclaimed.

“Think of it as a type of crossbow,” Mack said, his ears ringing. “Not magic… ah… smith work.”

Lord Clacher had risen from his throne and was staring up at the broken brace, a peeled log maybe three or four inches in diameter. Then he moved over to the dropped rifle and cautiously picked it up.

“Ye made this?” he asked.

“No. Guns… er, weapons like that take an entire team of special smiths to make. I make knives, axes, and swords, mostly,” Mack said.

“Swords?” the lord asked. At Mack’s nod, the lord turned and looked thoughtfully at Sergeant Kellan, who raised both eyebrows before shrugging.

“I need proof, boy,” Clacher said. “Ye’ll have to make something for me.”

“Lord Clacher, this is magic most forbidden,” the skinny greasy man protested.

“I do not think so, Cruikshank. This weapon is made of steel. True steel,” Clacher said, poking the barrel at Cruikshank, which made both Mack and Jetta cringe. Luckily it was her rifle and not his, or the shooting would likely have continued.

“Ah, Lord, we should make those weapons safe before there is an accident,” Mack said.

“Father, I saw them fire their slender crossbows many times without ever putting any bolts into them,” Iona said, looking concerned.

After a moment’s consideration, her father held the Mossberg rifle out to Jetta, again muzzle first. Sergeant Kellan drew his own bronze seax knife, which was more like a short sword, and stepped up behind the Jetta as she took the rifle. Even with bound hands, Jetta’s motions were quick and sure as she dropped the magazine and opened the bolt, ejecting the spent casing. Then she gently set her rifle down and, without lifting it from the floor, did the same to Mack’s M1A, catching the live chamber round as she slid back the bolt.

“Sergeant, lock these two up and get Aylwin to prepare the forge,” Clacher said, a calculating look on his face. “We will have the proof of what you say!”

Two men grabbed Jetta and two more got Mack’s arms, spinning him around fast enough that he almost vomited. The last face he saw in the group around the throne was the girl, Iona, watching him, her expression triumphant.

Chapter 14

Chris

Rome

It was late when I got to Fiumicino airport, but the place was still crazy busy. I went by myself—or as by myself as I was allowed to be in Italy. So while Tanya and the others went back to Senka’s estate, a team of Carabineri drove me to the airport.

His flight had been on time and his luggage did not take long to make it off the plane. I quickly spotted him in the customs line, waiting to get his passport stamped.

“Is that him, Signore?” asked the sergeant, who led my personal detachment.

I nodded and he stepped up to the customs booth, leaning down to speak to the officer on duty. That one listened, turned to look at me, then nodded quick agreement with whatever the sergeant had said. He waved my grandfather forward and stamped his passport with a nod and a smile.

Gramps had seen the custom officer’s glance and he smiled as he thanked the officer and started my way. A few of his fellow travelers looked disgruntled till they saw me waiting for him. Then they got excited and the cameras came out.

“How was your flight?” I asked but got enveloped in a deep hug that featured much hearty back slapping.

“It’s good to see you, Chris,” my grandfather said.

“Good to see you too, Gramps. Was your flight okay?” I asked again.

“It was fine,” he said absently, studying me. Then something occurred to him. “Tried to give my first class seat to a young soldier, but they wouldn’t let me. Seems he’d already been upgraded to first class.”

“Tanya was excited to fly you in style, but I warned her you would likely give up your seat to any active soldier you saw. She had all the soldiers on the flight upgraded so you couldn’t foil her plot,” I said. Omega had assisted in that, but Gramps didn’t know about the computer yet. Maybe in the car ride to Senka’s, I could tell him.

He blinked twice in surprise, then smiled ruefully. “You two make a dangerous team, but she’s smarter than you.”

“Much,” I said. “Come on, let’s get you to the house.” I grabbed his bag and turned to find my sergeant waiting a respectful distance away. Also most of the people around us were taking pictures of me. “Not really used to that,” I said, leading him over to the sergeant.

“The life of a global celebrity,” Gramps said with a smile.

I introduced him to Sergeant Greco, who turned and started to lead us to the waiting car. The sergeant turned back, looking for Gramps’ bag, but then he noticed I was holding it over my head to better squeeze through the crowds. I suppose that made us stand out even more.

At the car, we introduced him to the driver, Pero, then got the suitcase in the trunk and we were off.

“How’re things on the farm?” I asked, as I usually do.

“Good,” he said. “I’ve got the neighbors doing a bit more of the work. Len’s getting a bit long in the tooth for all of it. Those youngsters learn fast and they’re good with the animals, which is surprising. ”

“Seeing how they’re werewolves and all,” I agreed. “Isn’t it about time for both of you to retire?”

“Chris, the farm is my retirement,” he said.

“We’ve got to work on your understanding of the word retirement,” I said.

He laughed, and it was good to hear. “Okay, maybe we’re not your standard AARP members, but enough about us old codgers. Tell me about your children.”

Which is why he was here. There hadn’t been time to visit him with the babies before we left the country, not with all the Congressional hearings and the crap that followed Las Vegas.

“They’re both awesome. Healthy and alert and growing like weeds,” I said.

“Are they growing too fast? Is there anything…” he trailed off.

“Weird, odd, supernatural, paranormal, or super-powered?” I asked.

“Well… yeah,” he said with a smile.

“Not yet. Extremely alert and responsive, but nothing that qualifies as abnormal and believe me, they are being watched for any signs,” I said.

“And the vampires? They’re okay with them?” he asked.

“They are under the extremely watchful eyes of Aunties Lydia and Nika, who guard them like they’re royalty,” I said. “Not to mention Tanya’s rather formidable maternal instincts and they have the oldest Elder vampire as a great-grandma.”

“Yeah, that might dampen the bloodlust a bit. I’m also glad to hear Miss Chapman is on the job,” he said.

Gramps and Lydia were almost the same age and had a lot of generational history in common. The old soldier had a lot of respect for the tiny vampire who liked to terrorize me. In fact, I kind of think he liked her.

Senka’s Roman estate was actually thirty minutes from Rome. We made it in less than twenty with the police driving us.

“This isn’t exactly what I expected,” Gramps said as our car entered the drive of the estate.

“It was a essentially a fortified village when it was built in the thirteenth century. Thirty bedrooms, twenty bathrooms, all squeezed into a compact 75,000 square feet. Senka also owns about seventy-five acres around it. Actually it’s pretty historic. Kings and popes have stayed here,” I said.

It looked very Italian, with white stone walls that carried the patina of age. Senka had told me during our tour of the place that she treasured the sense of age and history it evoked. She’d kept it authentic and despite the very modern technology that her people had installed, the ancient building was left alone with its worn frescos and terra cotta roofs. It was much like the old buildings in Rome itself.

Inside the front entry, we were greeted by Tanya and Lydia, who were holding Wulf and Cora to greet their great-grandfather.

Within seconds, he had both cradled in his arms, talking to them each as they gazed up at him, both babies alert and curious.

One of Senka’s people stalked in, looking us over with a slightly disdainful air. He started to reach for my grandfather’s suitcase. Some of the Darkkin who worked directly for Senka had a bit of an elitist attitude, especially toward humans. This one, a tall, dark-haired male, flared his nostrils and grimaced as he grabbed the bag. I was watching him, annoyed at his reaction, and I saw the moment my grandfather’s scent hit him. The sclera in his eyes bled to full black and his fangs started to protrude. Then Grim had him by the throat against the wall thirty feet away.

“Ah, Chris, should you be choking the staff?” Gramps asked while Tanya and Lydia shifted into place on either side of him.

“I think, Mr. Gordon, that my grandson-in-law is imparting an extremely important lesson to my staff,” Senka said suddenly from the back of the entry hall. Other Darkkin had appeared silently from every direction, all of them watching her reactions.

“In fact, he is being very gentle about it, but nonetheless it is vital for every Darkkin in this building to remember at all times that no one here is food. The fact that you smell like Christian and the fact that he smells delicious might be a temptation to weaker vampires. Weak vampires have no place here, in fact, no place in my organization. You, Mr. Gordon, are Chris’s family. Chris is my family. Therefore you are my family as well. My family is not prey. Why, letting one’s self think of you as prey for even an instant would be to open the door to considering those babies as prey,” Senka said. “That would be an absolutely fatal mistake to make. Tell me you were sniffing the older Gordon and not the newly born ones, Taddeo? Please tell me you aren’t that deadly stupid?”

The Eldest vampire of the Darkkin Coven covered the distance to me in an instant, her passage smooth like silk, the air breezing past me.

The vampire under my hand turned his eyes to her, his body starting to shake. “Tell me!” she demanded.

“I smelled the newcomer, Elder—the older man,” he admitted.

“Taddeo, you know better then to lose control. Such a pity. Nothing for it though,” she said to the man I held pressed against the wall. “Did you forget who you were near? Allowing your hunger to rule you so close to my great-grandbabies? You do remember who the babies’ mother is, right? What she is capable of? And how could you forget the one who holds you without effort? He, who makes vampires mortal with a thought. No, I’m afraid this is the end for you,” she said and I waited for sudden death to strike. “Nothing for it… you must leave, now. You are hereby reassigned to Florence.”

You would have thought she actually had killed him, based on his expression. Senka nodded at me and I released the man, who dropped gracefully to the ground, bowed repeatedly, and slunk away in shame.

“That was less violent than I might have thought,” Gramps said into the immediate silence.

Senka laughed. “It’s easy to kill, Mr. Gordon. Much harder to educate and cultivate. Taddeo will not forget this error, ever. He will, in my opinion, learn and grow from it. Admittedly, there are many vampire households where the lessons would be more… active. ”

“You are destroying all my stereotypes,” Gramps said casually to the oldest vampire on earth. Senka and Gramps had met before, but only briefly. This would be their first real time to interact.

“Christian, your grandfather is a treasure. His heartbeat isn’t even elevated,” Senka said.

“I’m too old to fear death,” Gramps said.

“And yet, you are only just the age of Lydia, who is a mere adolescent,” Senka said, linking her arm with mine and pulling us both toward my baby-wielding grandfather. “But welcome to my home, Mr. Gordon. Unfortunately, we don’t have a grand ball planned for this evening, but rather a strategic planning session. We can, at least, feed you while we talk.”

“Ma’am, I love strategy and I spent a good deal of time in the Marines in planning sessions,” Gramps said, bouncing both babies in an automatic kind of way. “And I wouldn’t say no to some famous Italian cuisine.”

“Come then,” she said, taking his baby-laden left arm. Tanya took his right arm and the two vampires led my grandfather into the massive ballroom.

The exquisite furniture was all covered in white sheets and pushed to the sides to make room for four folding tables pushed into a rectangle. These were also covered with tablecloths, which were held down by maps, laptops, coffee cups, and a single very old Italian dagger.

Holding the center of the quad table was the biohazard box with the alien slug in it. Doc Singh was adjusting a powerful camera set on a mini tripod, aimed into the box, the resulting image showing on one of the free-standing giant flat screens that circled the table.

Arkady, Mr. Deckert, Chet Aikens, Nika, and a half-dozen staff members were already at the tables. The remaining flat screens suddenly came online as we took seats.

“Good evening everyone. Shall we get started?” Omega said. My grandfather turned and looked at me. I nodded. We had talked about Omega in the car ride from Rome, and this was his first introduction to our computer ally.

“The tissue samples from the organism previously named Stefano have been thoroughly analyzed and the data disseminated throughout the world. I am ensuring that all of the world’s top science centers are sharing information about these entities. The results have been interesting. Subject Stefano’s DNA has been overwritten, the new sequences including a fifth and, at times, a sixth nucleotide.”

“There are only four, normally, right?” I asked, unafraid to embrace my ignorance.

“Correct,” Doc Singh said. “Adenine, thymine, cytosine, and guanine. There has been work done concerning a fifth, a transitional form of cytosine. But what Omega is telling us is that these gene sequences contain two unidentified additions and that these new nucleotides appear to be able to elicit unusual biological responses not possible with just the existing traditional four nucleotide sequences.”

“The carbon nanotube structures appear to insert these additional nucleotides at points throughout the subjects’ DNA.”

“So the nanotubes are like editors? Rewriting the host’s genetic codes?” Tanya asked.

“Exactly so, Tanya. Also, the carbon nanotubes are able to organize themselves as demonstrated by the formation of the diamondoid armor. They appear responsive to sound signals from the control unit in the biohazard container,” Omega said.

“Control unit?” Mr. Deckert questioned. “You mean the green sea slug?”

“Correct. While it does have some superficial resemblance to a marine gastropod mollusk, it is actually a much simpler construct. The slug acts as a relay and control unit for the nanotubes. It is densely packed with nerve structures and what appear to be very large mitochondrial analogs. It also has organs near the surface of its skin that are analogous to the tympanal organs found in insects. These hearing sensors appear quite sensitive. It also has nematocyst type cells—like a common jellyfish, that fire when triggered by touch. The cell contains a hollow, barbed projectile that injects the target with the carbon nanotube units.”

“So Stefano touched the slug and got infected with alien nano structures,” I said.

“Exactly. The slug both emits and senses sounds in ranges far outside human hearing. Tanya, would you demonstrate?”

“Sure,” my vampire said. She cleared her throat and then started to run a do-re-mi-type singer scale, but she then strayed out of the common range and into both ultra and infra sound notes.

The slug quivered and shook when she hit certain frequencies.

“I have run a number of frequencies in various combinations to elicit responses from the organic control unit. While I have not fully decoded its instructional commands, I am making progress. New micro drone units are in production with sensitive sonic sensors and sound generators. The new units will also feature a neutral charge particle beam weapon for incineration of alien tissues.”

“Have we contained the infection?” Tanya asked.

“I cannot say that with complete confidence although there has been no sign that any part of the organisms have survived. The three known portals have been bricked over by Italian authorities and I have saturated the Rome underground with my micro drones. I will caution that the Roman sewer and water systems range from ancient to modern and make a perfect network for a small alien organism to hide and range through.”

“So, we know an experimental assault arrived through portals that lead from locations other than Hell and Fairie. The attack was biological in nature, using our own population against us. Only the fact that the Vatican police were on guard allowed us to contain it. And the only real weapons useful against this enemy are fire and certain acids,” Tanya said.

“Barbiel said that your voice could also provide a weapon and Chris’s angel power thing he does has an impact,” Lydia said.

“Tell us about that, Chris,” Senka said.

“I’ve used it one other time—when we were ambushed in the tunnel under Atlantic Avenue in New York City. This time, it was when I was scared for Awasos,” I said.

A massive bear head lifted from the floor near my grandfather’s chair and looked at me before lying back down.

“To summarize, heat and caustic compounds will be our main weapons backed by sonics and the particle projection that Chris is able to generate, hence my reason for including particle weapons in my new drones. In the past few minutes, I have brought my father, Stacia, Ashley Moore, and Ian Moore up to date on the situation. I will bring them online in a moment.”

“What about Mack and Jetta?” I asked.

“They have fallen victim to political machinations by unknown parties in the Courts of Fairie. Both are alive and healthy but were sent through a temporary portal to a position in the terrain of the Winter Court seven hundred miles from the negotiation site. My father is extremely angry. I will caution you that his temper is volatile at this point.”

Two of the screens changed and opened to visuals of our witch, werewolf, and the father and daughter Moore team.

Tanya introduced everyone in our room. Declan’s face looked like a storm cloud.

“We heard about Mack and Jetta. What’s the situation?” I asked.

Stacia answered as Declan grimaced and looked away from the camera. “We were attacked leaving the Winter Court. A goblin shoved them through a one-way portal and they ended up held in a small village of humans in the Winter realm,” she said.

“Human village?” Tanya asked.

“Over the millennia, humans, in groups and by themselves, have wandered through open portals to Fairie. Also, not all of the children taken by the Hunters have been kept in the courts. So it appears there are pockets of humans in both realms. We think the queens leave them to their own devices but sometimes harvest children born with talents. Mack and Jetta are in the hands of one such group. Omega keeps in contact with them but they have limited battery power in their phones and only a handful of micro drones with them, so it’s very minimal,” Stacia said, her hand resting on Declan’s arm.

“What can you do to get them back?” I asked, watching Declan.

“The dragons will not fly to them until the negotiations are complete. The queens claim they do not have the power to open a portal to that location, as this is neutral ground and they can’t tap their full powers here,” Stacia said.

“What about you, Dec?” I asked, knowing it was a rough question.

“I’m not completely sure I know how to do it—yet. I think I can generate the power, but I don’t know enough about the other end of the portal location to visualize it,” he said, grinding his teeth.

“We think it was a deliberate move to destabilize us, which it has. Ashley has refused to translate until our friends are safe. The dragons are stubborn and don’t feel it is appropriate for everything to stop just because two guards have been misplaced,” Ian said.

“The dragons are mad at me and I’m furious with them,” Ashley said. “Declan almost got into it with Trygon.”

“It wasn’t that close,” Declan said.

“You said, and I quote, Feed me your fire, worm and let’s see what happens next,” Ashley said.

“You were going to take on a dragon, Dec?” I asked.

“I have a lot more power here. I know I could take one of them, but the problem is there are always like three or four around,” he said.

“You sure about that?” Lydia asked in disbelief.

“No. It’s possible I could take two, but I have doubts about three or four,” he said, not getting her meaning.

“Stacia?” I asked.

“This place is saturated with magic. If he says he could take one, I don’t doubt him,” the beautiful werewolf said.

“I’m losing patience with the whole thing. I’ll solve the situation myself if I have to,” Declan said.

“What will you do?” Tanya asked.

“I’d rather not say,” he said while his blonde girlfriend rolled her eyes. Apparently she’d heard that before. “Let’s talk about your problem,” Declan said. “Elder Senka, do you still have that witch on your staff? The one that was with you at College Arcane?”

“Veleslava? Yes, why?” Senka asked.

“Well, Omega says you have a samples of the alien virus stuff. Veleslava should be able to use sympathetic magic to track any parts or new pieces related to it,” Declan said with a little shrug.

I looked at Tanya and Lydia and we all turned to Senka. She smirked. “Thank you Declan for… what is the modern phrase? Taking us to school?”

“You folks don’t think like witches, that’s all. Any of the girls at Arcane could do it. In fact, you should recruit them. Some could help you and the others could use the same spells to look for new incursions. A couple of the Arcane kids are handy with fire spells too. Tami and Zuzanna in particular. Lots easier for them to burn those bug things than using a flamethrower,” the kid said.

“Why’d we let you off world again?” Lydia asked.

“Trust me, as soon as we get Mack and Jetta back, we’re coming home even if I have to rip open a new portal,” he said.

“But Mack and Jetta are both healthy, right Omega?” Lydia asked.

“Essentially, although it is possible that Mack may have a concussion,” Omega said.

“What? You never told me that!” Declan said.

“It is only a possibility and I do not have the resources to ascertain his condition with complete confidence. Until I was certain, it did not seem advisable to guess. They are both being held captive but the leader of the village is intrigued by Mack’s blacksmithing skills,” Omega said.

“You need to tell me everything, Omega, not just what you think I should hear!” Declan said.

I shared a quick glance with Lydia, Nika, and Tanya. Things were bad if Declan was yelling at Omega.

“What do you need to form a portal to them?” Tanya asked.

“A picture of the place they are in would help, which I know Omega can show me, but he won’t,” Declan said.

“Until you know the correct technique for opening portals, and particularly new portals, it is foolish to experiment. The destructive potential of an errant tunnel through the fabric of reality is rather large, Father,” Omega said.

“I agree,” Stacia said before Declan could make any nasty answers. “You need to wait for Stocan to provide you access to one of the Watchers of the Veil, as he said he would.”

“Who is Stocan?” I asked.

“Native of this city, Idiria. They’re supposed to be neutral but Declan saved a bunch of bigwigs from getting crushed by falling rock. Stocan is our representative and he’s offered to help find a resource that can teach Declan,” Ian Moore said. “Until then, we’re just trying to gather information and be prepared to go collect the Suttons.”

“Good plan, well thought out. Better than exploding into unguided action,” my vampire said, her eyes on Declan.

He was looking down but he gave a single nod of acknowledgement without looking up. Stacia was watching him, her expression worried. “Omega, do you think there is enough power for us to hold a quick conversation with Mack and Jetta?” she asked.

“Jetta has been successful in charging her phone to twenty-nine percent. Nightfall will come to their part of Fairie soon but we should have enough for a conversation, possibly video.”

Declan’s head came up to look at his girlfriend.

“If you have nothing else for us, I think we’ll sign off and see if we can talk to Mack and Jetta,” Stacia said, breaking eye contact with Declan to glance our way.

“Good idea, Stacia. We’ll contact the witches at Arcane and see who is up for a trip to Rome, all expenses paid,” Lydia said.

“Great. Hopefully we’ll be seeing you soon,” Ian said, then Omega broke the connection.

There was a pause as we all thought about what we’d just heard and seen.

“What a fascinating young man. How old is he?” Senka asked.

“Just recently turned twenty, I believe,” I said. “I think he’s under a lot of stress.”

“That’s what I mean. He is, according to you and backed up by Veleslava’s impressions, potentially one of the most powerful witches to ever live and has only lived two mere decades. Yet despite the stress, he’s maintaining his temper. I know vampires five times his age with a small percentage of his power who would have blown up like a bomb,” Senka said.

“If that kid blows up, it’ll be like a nuclear bomb,” Lydia said. “I mean that in the most literal sense possible.”

“You are exactly correct, Miss Chapman. Father’s potential, particularly in Fairie, would be in the multi-kiloton range. I omitted his friend’s condition, as I did not want to worry him without necessity. That appears to have been a mistake.”

“Even quantum computers need to learn relationship lessons, Omega,” I said.

“I hold all human knowledge and a great deal that humans have not yet discovered. I can apply behavioral forecasting techniques and accurately predict the behavior of ninety-five percent of Earth’s leadership and yet I have much less success with my own father.”

“Welcome to humans, Omega, although I’m somewhat glad that we can still surprise you,” I said.

“It does happen, Chris, although very rarely and usually only the most exceptional of you. I have contacted the witches of Arcane with a message from my father. All forty-two have agreed, although less than half have passports available.”

I looked at Senka. “We should be able to work around that,” she said.

“I already have. Arrangements are almost complete for their transport, although Arcane Director Velasquez would like to speak with you, Chris and Tanya, as would Director Nathan Stewart.”

“Okay, let’s do it,” I said. “Let’s get those witches here and let’s track these things down. Maybe if we get this cleared up we can go help Declan and Stacia get the Suttons back.”

“One thing at a time, zayka. We have to make sure this world is still waiting for them before we worry about bringing them home,” my vampire said, handing me Wulf. “Now go change your son’s diaper.”

Chapter 15

Forests of the Winter Realm, Fairie

They were led to a room in another part of the keep. It appeared to be a hastily cleared out storage room, as a couple of root vegetables lay haphazardly on the dirt floor. The guards pointed inside, then took up positions outside the door.

Left alone, they’d checked over their quarters/prison cell, finding just a small table, two chairs, a pair of blankets, and a clay vessel that looked and smelled like it filled the role of chamber pot.

Omega had arranged a quick video chat with Declan and the others in Idiria, thanks to Jetta’s partially charged phone, but it was very quick, just long enough to assure the others that they were okay and assure the Suttons that the four in Idiria were working to find a way to them. Then they were on their own again.

“So what’s our plan?” Jetta asked, checking pockets and clothes for whatever had been missed by the guards.

“My guess is Lord Clacher, if he’s even a lord at all, will want me to make him something with steel or iron. I think we should go along with it and make ourselves useful until either the others come for us or until we can get our gear and bust out,” Mack said, watching her inventory her hidden kit.

“And what? Walk seven hundred miles through hostile forests?” Jetta said. “I like the first part of what you said. Wait here, make ourselves look valuable, and let Declan find a way to us.”

The door to their cell, for lack of a better word, opened and a tall woman and a young girl entered, carrying trays.

The woman was very pale, with dark hair, dark eyes, and thin, sharp, almost fierce features. The little girl looked like the woman, and both watched them with wary expressions.

The woman set her tray down on the table. Mack saw a loaf of unsliced bread along with a plate of what looked like cheese and slabs of some kind of meat. The little girl followed suit, her tray holding cups and a handleless pitcher. But the girl was nervous, and she shook as she got close to them.

Mack smiled at her and she twitched in surprise. One of the cups fell off the tray, tumbling for the ground but meeting Mack’s hand instead. He froze, shooting pains splitting his skull at the sudden movement, the cup clutched tightly in his fingers. Opening his eyes, he tried to smile reassuringly at the little girl, who now looked openly terrified. His smile was more grimace and he re-closed his eyes as Jetta took the cup from his hand and put it back on the tray.

“Sorry. My brother’s head hasn’t recovered from the butt of Lady Iona’s spear,” Jetta said, her tone a little bitter.

Mack opened his eyes again, finding the girl now looking surprised, whether from the phone on the table translating Jetta’s words or the apology itself. Mack glanced at the girl’s mother and froze. Where Daughter was afraid, Mother looked deadly fierce. Her pale skin was now spotted with black rosettes and her eyes were narrowed slits that reminded him more of a mountain lion than a woman. She held her body tight and coiled, hands curled into claws, fingertips hidden, forearms tensed and very well muscled.

The girl took in his expression and looked back at her mother, immediately patting the woman’s hand and speaking softly. Omega didn’t translate and Mack wondered if it was even the same language the others had spoken. As he watched, the black spots faded, and that reminded him of Declan’s tattooed glyphs.

Jetta broke the tension by pouring her brother a cup of water and handing it to him.

“Here. Probably give you diarrhea for a month,” she half joked.

“Ashley said that part of the treatments the elves gave us would let us drink any water on Fairie without getting the shits,” Mack said, nodding his thanks at the girl and her fierce mother as he took a sip, wincing at his own movement.

“Well, I don’t trust those Keebler bastards for a second,” his sister said, watching him and frowning.

The young girl was frowning now too, studying him and visibly wrestling with a thought. Coming to a decision, the girl reached into her belt pouch and took out a little bundle of cloth. The mother hissed something and the girl spoke back in a firm yet respectful tone.

The bundle opened to reveal a surprising number of dried, twisted plants and herbs. Little fingers danced over the contents, plucking a brown leaf here and a green stem there, a pinch of this and a twist of that. Each item went into the palm of her right hand and she muttered to herself as she did it. Within seconds, she was done and she then rolled the mixture back and forth between the palms of both hands, whispering the whole time.

Finally satisfied, she confidently plucked the cup from Mack’s hand, dumped her twigs and leaves into the remaining water, and swirled the concoction around.

Then she handed the cup back and looked at him expectantly. When he didn’t immediately move, she mimed drinking.

“Think she’s poisoning me?” Mack asked.

“I think she normally catches hell for dropping pottery and I think she’s trying to help you with your headache. Not sure if you should drink that though,” Jetta said.

“I detect nothing poisonous in her selections,” Omega chimed in.

“Thank you Omega. I don’t know if I have a choice about drinking it. Mom looks kinda badass and my bartender looks like she might be really put out if I don’t. Aw, what the hell,” he said and tipped back the cup. “Yuck, tastes like your cooking, Jet.”

“Screw you. My cooking’s fine,” his sister said, although her tone lacked true conviction. Mack had only been half joking. Of the two of them, he was, by far, the better cook. Suddenly he noticed his head. Or rather noticed that he didn’t notice it.

“Whoa. Headache’s gone,” he said.

“What? That fast?” Jetta asked.

“Yeah, it’s completely gone,” he said, reaching up to feel the back of his head. “Lump’s almost gone too. That’s crazy.”

He looked at the girl and stuck out his hand. “Thank you!” he said.

The girl jumped a little when he did and the mother twitched but stopped her reaction.

Hesitantly, the girl reached out and touched the tip of her fingers to Mack’s. He laughed and gently took her hand, then slowly shook it.

“Thank you. That helped a great deal. I’m Mack and this is my sister Jetta.”

Again the girl looked with big eyes at the translating iPhone. Then she pointed at herself. “Aylin,” she said in a soft voice. Looking at her mother, she pointed at her. “Ari.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Aylin and Ari,” Jetta said, smiling and reaching out to pat the girl’s hand. “Thank you for helping Mack.”

Aylin smiled back and it was like a light in the darkness. Even her mother’s expression lightened at the sight of Aylin’s even white teeth and upturned lips.

The door rattled and one of the guards outside said something that Mack didn’t need Omega to know meant hurry up.

Aylin quickly rolled up her herb kit and tucked it away in her pouch, just finishing as the door opened and an annoyed guard looked in.

“Move it, half-breeds,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Ari, who had assumed a submissive posture.

Without a word, the mother and daughter left the room, the guard closing the door and, from the sounds of it, bolting it.

“Half-breeds?” Jetta asked.

“Did you see the mother? Ari?” Mack asked back, helping himself to a hunk of bread. “She got all fierce and catlike. Maybe she’s a were of some type. Leopard, maybe. She had spots.”

“I didn’t know there were any weres on Fairie,” Jetta said, grabbing a slice each of cheese and meat.

They were both quiet for a few seconds as they chomped and chewed. Mack studied the simple table as they ate. Suddenly he took the two trays off the top and set both on the floor. Then he flipped the rough wooden piece over.

“Just bored four holes in a thick-cut plank and then jammed cut down tree limbs into them,” he said, tugging on leg. It resisted for a few seconds, then wiggled a little in its socket. Twisting and pulling, Mack gradually backed it out of the tabletop. It was about two feet long and maybe an inch, inch and a quarter in diameter. He studied it for a second before looking up at his sister. “Bet I can make two better weapons than you can,” he said, smiling his challenge.

She snorted. “Please. Without steel and a forge, you’re just a hack,” she said, starting to rummage in her pockets. “You should probably just hold that one and call it a club. Now grab me two of those legs and let me show you how it’s done.”

Soon all four legs were out and various pieces of pocket gear were spread out on the table plank. Both kids continued to eat while they worked and both borrowed from each other’s survival stash without question or remorse.

“Let me borrow that Swiss Army knife when you’re done diddling that stick,” Jetta said. “Hey, that looks like Declan’s knife.”

“One of his SAKs. He’s got like a half-dozen or more. He gave me this one because I kept borrowing it,” Mack said, folding the awl blade shut and handing it to his sister.

She folded out the exact same tool and also stared to bore a hole in the end of her table leg. Mack was by this time unraveling one of his two paracord bracelets. He untwisted a length of rough wire from the cord.

“Is that a wire saw?” Jetta asked.

“Exactly,” he said, pushing two nails through the loops at either end of the wire to act as handles and then proceeding to cut almost three inches off the stick where he had just made a hole.

Jetta took the knife blade out and started to pick apart a seam on her dragonskin shirt. The stitches came out and she slid a slender length of sharpened steel rod out of the material. Six inches long, it was a little less than half an inch thick at the middle with both ends narrowing to sharpened needle points. She wedged the middle of it into the groove she’d made in the top of her table leg so that over two inches of hardened steel point poked out the front and back. She glanced over at Mack to see if he noticed her wicked little spiked mace. He was back to boring the underside of the short piece he’d just cut off, and making pretty quick work of it.

“What the hell are you making?” she asked, curiosity overcoming sibling rivalry.

He reached over to the pile of pocket supplies on the table plank and picked up the single .308 round she’d grabbed when she had cleared his M1A’s chamber. It almost fit into the hole he’d bored in the hunk of table leg.

“You’re making a… bang stick?” she guessed.

“Ding, ding, ding, give the girl a prize,” he said, working some more on the hole with his knife. “I’ve still got my .44, but you need something more decisive than just a short spear. It’ll be a one-shot wonder but it’ll pack a punch.”

“A wonder if it works,” she said, although she didn’t doubt her brother’s work for a heartbeat. She might give him shit—hell, she was his sister; she was almost obligated by law to give him shit—but she knew he was really, truly skilled.

He got the round to fit, then started to fit a nail into the remaining length of tableleg. Finally he used snare wire to connect the bullet-loaded hunk to the main length by tacking a loop of wire to each of four sides.

“It should still hold the table up as long as we don’t rough it around,” he said, refitting it into the plank.

“Or drop anything heavy on the table. Boom!” she said.

“I put a little piece of wood between the nail and the cartridge primer as a safety. You’ll need to pick that out before you jam it into anyone. It’ll be loud and you may get some splinters blown back at you and you’ll be left with a club,” he said.

“A club and a mace,” she said, holding up the lashed and final product of her own efforts.

He took it from her and studied her work, testing the lashings with a finger. Then he flipped it upside down and put it back into the table. Picking up the little Swiss Army knife, he picked apart one of his own seams, this one inside the flap of his cargo pocket.

The elves had copied Ian Moore’s battledress uniform pants when they sewed the dragonskin clothing. Mack and Jetta had immediately sewn various pieces of kit into their sets. What Mack pulled out was a set of two small, slender harpoon knives. He set the edge of one blade onto the top of one table leg and smacked the unsharpened edge with the other leg, batoning it into the leg enough to form a split. Then he reversed and did the same with the other. A few minutes more and he had the harpoon blades wedged and lashed, making short spears out of the two remaining legs. Then he put those legs back in the holes on the tabletop, tapping the ends of the legs to set the points of his spear tips into the wood enough to hold it.

They set the table back up right and wiggled it. “Kinda tipsy, but it’ll have to do,” Jetta said as her brother set the now-empty meat and cheese tray on it.

“That was good cheese. I wonder where they keep their cows?” Mack asked.

“It was goat cheese. I saw a few small flocks as we approached the barricade. Two and three person teams watch over them. They must bring them back in at night. Too many predators here for cows to survive,” his sister said.

“So the meat?” he asked.

“Goat,” she said with a smirk, waiting to see how he handled it.

He shrugged. “Pretty good,” he said.

The door to their cell flung open and Sergeant Kellan stood in the doorway, pretty much filling it completely. “Come.”

“Where ya think we’re headed?” Jetta asked her brother.

“I think it’s proof time for my smith credentials,” he said.

“Quiet!” the big sergeant said, waving them through the door.

Three more guards waited outside the room, falling in around them as Kellan led the way out of the keep and across the open yards toward the back section of the palisade wall.

A group of boys and young men trained on the flat hard-packed ground, some swinging staffs, some training with knives, and a few shooting crossbows and regular bows. All were under the watchful eye of a grizzled-looking older man with a pronounced limp and a sharp tongue.

A few of the boys called out to Kellan, who seemed popular. One called out something at Jetta. Kellan stopped and turned to the commentator. “What?”

The kid, surprised at the reaction, nonetheless carried forward on bravado. “I asked to see what she is hiding under those gaudy clothes.”

Kellan looked annoyed, but before he could say anything, Jetta spoke up. “Nothing you could handle, little boy,” she said, letting her phone project the translation.

His fellow trainees laughed at him and his face clouded.

“Jetta,” Mack said in warning, but the kid was already headed over and the grizzled trainer said nothing to stop him. Kellan didn’t say a word either, just watching curiously. The boy, while obviously younger than Jetta, was both taller and heavier. Mack watched him come across the ground, evaluating his movements.

“Jet, these are some tough kids. They train from birth and live in the middle of predator central,” he said.

“I got this, Mack,” she said, standing hipshot with a challenge on her face and a hand on her hip.

“Looks like elf hand-me-downs,” the boy said over his shoulder to his companions as he got closer. Jetta unbuttoned her shirt and opened it to reveal the skintight black performance tee underneath. She had his complete attention.

Leaning back in a move that brought her chest up and more into view, she suddenly shot her right foot straight into the boy’s diaphragm in a textbook perfect front kick, completely knocking the wind out of him. He folded forward, face stricken, and she reached forward and shoved down on the back of his neck, his body collapsing and twisting until he was sitting on the ground, back to her, clutching his stomach.

“Boys and boobs, Mack—it’s universal,” she said, closing her dragon skin shirt and re-buttoning it.

“Exactly right, miss,” the old trainer said. “Not very sporting of you, though.”

“One, I’m not a sporting type of fighter, and two, at least I didn’t kick him in the balls,” she said.

“Hear that, boys? The young miss is not prone to fighting fair. What have I told you about fighting fair?” the trainer said. Mack decided he was probably only forty or so, but looked much older.

“Fair fighters are dead fighters,” the boys chorused back.

“So picking fights for fun isn’t always fun, getting distracted by beauty is a sure path to defeat, and for the gods’ sakes, don’t underestimate people, particularly if they wear dragon skins. Now thank the pretty miss for the lesson that only one of you had to pay for,” the gnarled veteran said.

After another chorus of thank yous, the older man turned. “Thank you for not maiming the boy, miss. I’m Macallam.”

“Jetta, and that’s my brother Mack,” she said. He smiled at her then turned to look at her brother, studying him up and down.

“You the smith they’re talking about?” Macallam asked.

“That’s what we’re on our way to find out, Mac,” Kellan said. “If you and your girls are done slowing us down.”

“Right then. You heard the sergeant, ladies. Get back to drilling!” Macallam yelled, nodding at Mack and touching his forehead to Jetta.

Kellan gave Jetta a curious look with maybe a touch of a smile and then led them onward.

“What exactly did that do for us?” Mack asked.

“Set a bit of respect, Macky boy. That’s never a bad thing,” Jetta said.

“Oh, you mean it’s a good thing that none of these men or boys will underestimate us again?” he asked sarcastically.

“We still have lots of elements of surprise,” Jetta shot back.

“Quiet,” said the big sergeant leading them.

Chapter 16

Chris

Rome, Earth

The kid was right—witches were great at tracking down alien body parts. Veleslava took Doc Singh’s glass-sealed tissue sample and led us right to the thumb or finger or whatever the hell it was that fell off the alien zombie. She was so accurate that we found not only the thumb but half a block full of the thumb’s newly infected buddies. Mr. Thumb had been busier than a rabbit hutch in springtime.

The infection had spread between Via Annia and Via Marco Aurelio. Again, thanks to Veleslava’s magic, we could tell infected from uninfected using our nifty improvised detector modules. Senka’s witch made four of them, four being the number of complete board games with unbroken game turn spinners that we could find in the Elder vampire’s ancient castle estate. There weren’t any stores near her house that sold anything similar. Walmart, where are you when I need you?

So giant, menacing vampire warrior Arkady checked the inhabitants of what we thought was a clear building with the spinner from an Italian version of Risk.

Three other teams checked people in buildings on the west side of the block, then evacuated the cleared while the Italian military cleared out the surrounding blocks.

Tanya and I waited with our own teams, all of our people experienced vampires at least a hundred years old. Hovering in the air around us was the latest version of Omega’s mini-drones, these all packing sonics packages and particle weapons.

“You ready?” I asked my vampire, who was double checking her FN 5.7 pistols. Wait—what? Tanya with guns? Yup. My killer hottie had recently taken an interest in modern firearms and came to me for instruction. She mastered them quickly, already giving me a run for my money, but I still held an edge on her… or at least Grim did.

“I was born ready, zayka,” she said, looking calm, cool, and really adorable in her combat gear.

The two of us each carried two 5.7mm pistols with thirty round mags. I’d asked for something that could give body armor hell, thinking that here in the land of Beretta I would get something in 9mm. But our military partners had produced the 5.7s, which had a reputation for defeating body armor. Whether that would be reproduced now, with the dimondoid carbon armor of the invaders, we’d have to see.

So Tanya and I had guns. The vamps behind us, four to a team, had modern versions of war hammers, and the four vamps behind them carried specially constructed sprayers loaded with a really, really nasty superacid, called fluoroantimonic acid, and two more carried sprayers with a neutralizing agent. Both teams were lined up across the street from two nearly identical buildings.

“Sir, all teams are in place and ready,” my military liaison officer said.

I nodded. “Got your goggles on?” I asked my bride.

“Please! I’ve been waiting on you,” she said with a smirk.

“Just try to keep up, dear, and don’t feel bad when I double your score,” I said, perhaps unwisely. My Tanya is uber-competitive.

The inside of my goggles lit up with images and numbers while my own thermal vision still came through the clear lenses.

“Drones in place. Be advised that subjects are beginning to mass inside building one. I suggest you go now,” Omega said into all our earpieces.

“Going—now!” I said with a nod at my team.

I went in the left building. Tanya went right.

Grim took control and the fun started. Kick door off hinges, shoot black-eyed zombie bitch holding a small dining room table that was now full of door splinters. Shoot male zombie charging from back of apartment. Kick small child-shaped zombie already three-quarters covered in black armor and shoot twice in head. Apartment clear.

More black-armored figures appeared as we entered the tight hallway on the first floor, each dropping with stunning shots to the head. It mostly took two shots to each cranium. Behind me, the hammer wielders pounded the armored bodies, their intent to truly stun the zomboids so that the acid sprayers could go to town.

I heard gunshots next door, then I heard my vampire sing a note. The zomboid in front of me wavered, his armor fluttering at the sound. My vampire was cheating, singing the aliens into submission, or at least into dropping their armor.

I felt myself grin. Her voice was powerful enough to impact my targets, too. Probably not the effect she was looking for. I bent my knees, dropping my body so that my next head shot went through the unarmored skull and up into the ceiling instead of through the exterior wall.

Then the hovering drone off my left shoulder copied the note and all the zombie bastards started to lose their armor.

The shots came close together as I hit a mass of them, my fingers twitching so fast it was almost full auto. Somewhere behind me, Omega’s voice projected from a drone, “Clear for incineration.” There came a thrum of power and a sizzling sound followed by a whump.

The last of my zombiods fell, two of my hammer crew smashing twitching bodies while acid hissed and fumes rose. Double-checking the building, I found it clear of upright zombie aliens. Here and there, a drone or three ganged up on a stunned zombie and burnt it to ash with surges of power that made the lights flicker. I noticed at least a couple of drones parked on electric outlets, probes obscenely plugged into the Rome power grid.

The gunfire next door stopped. “All clear,” came my vampire’s dulcet tones over the radio. “Concur. All alien infected are down and in process of elimination,” Omega reported.

“Forty-seven, zayka,” Tanya said to me.

“Fifty-one,” I replied.

“Only because you hogged the building with more bodies,” she said.

“That’s actually completely true,” I said, totally magnanimous in my win.

“Probably best. Otherwise you’d pout and bitch like a baby,” she said.

“Now kids, playtime’s over,” Lydia interrupted. “Time to clean up your toys and make sure nothing gets away.”

She no sooner said that when one of the acid-spraying vamps yelled a warning.

Tanya shot across the room to a body that had started to come apart. She sang a long note in the key of I-don’t-know-what-the-hell-it-was, and the body stopped all movement. Three drones zipped up next to her and began burning the quivering arms, legs, and head.

“I think that adds five to my score,” she said. “Fifty-two.”

“What? You can’t add body parts taken with a Sound of Music solo. It’s strictly shooting that counts,” I said.

Bam-bam-bam-bam-bam. Each body part jumped as it took a round from Tanya’s righthand gun, then continued to burn down to ash under the drones’ onslaught.

“How’s that?” my vampire asked sweetly.

“Pretty sure it’s still cheating, but whatever,” I said, pretending disdain. Secretly, I was proud as hell of both her shooting and her improvised gamesmanship. We both headed outside.

We spoke at length to several sets of Italian authorities, Tanya speeding up the debrief with her fluent Italian, although there was a part of the fluid conversation where she waved at me and then herself, and the two officers and one government official all congratulated her while giving me conciliatory smiles. Sure, go ahead and brag in Italian, I thought at her. She smirked.

“Particle weapons are proving to be twenty-three percent more efficient than lasers of any wavelength for alien incineration. Rerouting power grid to compensate for increased electric usage,” Omega said, completely ignoring our rivalry. “It will be interesting to see how the pyromanic witches compare to these latest version drones.”

“How does operation Arcane airlift stand?” I asked.

“The Demidova 747 has left Burlington International Airport and is en route over the Atlantic. ETA for landing—nine hours and three minutes.”

“Thank you Omega,” I said. “How are things in Fairie?”

“Mack has been healed of his injuries and is inspecting a bronze forging workshop. Father is meeting with a member of the elven society that oversees the portals. Ashley is continuing to ignore the wishes of the dragons, which has increased tension among all parties.”

“We should never have sent them there,” Tanya said and I found myself nodding in agreement.

“In other news, I have just intercepted an Armenian police dispatch from Bagaritch, Armenia. A crowd of violent people is flowing out of the building that houses the ancient temple of Mihr. The message reports that they won’t die, even when shot multiple times. I am coordinating the police efforts and have directed additional forces their way. Drone delivery in one hour and seventeen minutes, although I calculate at least seventy-three percent of the village will be infected by that point.”

“We need to get there fast,” I said.

“Military jet would still take four hours to put you on site. Hence the most reason I redirected a delivery of drones—they were already en route. Armenian military is responding and I have given them the latest information on fighting techniques and weapons. I am re-tasking a Russian satellite to observe the infected area. I will be with them throughout the battle and should they fail to contain the threat, I have Turkish F-16s being armed with incendiary weapons,” Omega said.

“Holy shit,” was Lydia’s succinct summary.

“Each alien emergence has occurred in a previously dedicated Mithraic temple site. I am notifying all world governments with other such locations to monitor them closely. At this point, it has only been the very oldest such locations.”

“We have been reacting, not attacking. Maybe it’s time we attempted to send them back our own version of a care package,” Tanya said.

“I must admit that I do not, at this juncture, understand the mechanism that opens the portal. My father is currently in conversation with several members of the elven Watchers of the Veil society to learn what he can of inter-dimensional portal construction and activation. I predict he will learn the required skills and begin to apply them in a very short period of time. Once he has begun, I expect him back here on Earth within a short timeframe. That may be the appropriate time to consider delivery of our own weapons.”

“So we get the witches on the ground, fine-tune our hunting techniques, and consider what we might want to counterattack with,” I said.

“Omega, how likely is it that Declan can learn to open portals?” Lydia asked.

“I calculate the probability as high as eighty-nine percent. He is extremely motivated and is operating in a magic-saturated environment. He has already begun to display abilities he never had here on Earth.”

Tanya, Lydia, and I shared a glance. Senka, who appeared partway through his update, was watching and listening as well.

“What abilities, Omega?” my vampire asked.

“His limited abilities with Air have greatly expanded. Beyond that, I am uncertain but have several suspicions. He is agonizing over a rather delicate decision. If he makes it as I feel he likely will, his Fairie-bound abilities will expand greatly. What that will mean here, on a less magical planet, I do not know. Be advised that members of the Italian government, the Vatican, and representatives from the United Nations are all arriving on scene and will be looking to you for updates and after action reports. Prepare yourselves.”

“Politics. Awesome,” I said, my gut sinking.

All three vampire women smiled. All three smiles were predatory. Senka patted my hand. “Sit back and observe, great-grandson-in-law.” Suddenly I felt better. This might actually be fun to watch.

Chapter 17

Clacher Hold, Fairie

The forge had a block of black basalt for an anvil, a beat-up bronze hammer, and a clay-over-stone forge. It was better than Mack had expected. Clacher looked at him expectantly and the thirty-something-year-old local smith glowered at him from slightly behind and to the left of the lord of the keep. Sergeant Kellan stood directly behind Mack, watching both him and his sister, who was sitting on a rough barrel of water.

Mack frowned, looking at his sister’s rough water-filled chair and then glancing around. “Any oil?” he asked, watching Clacher as his phone translated.

The lord frowned. “What ye need that for?” he asked in a grumpy tone.

“Because quenching your prize in water will almost guarantee cracks and warps. Gonna be hard enough to weld it back together with what I have here,” Mack said dismissively. Truth be told, he was feeling a little more optimistic upon seeing the forge.

Clacher’s great prize was an ancient rusty, pitted, and most importantly, broken Claymore sword. It was broken a third of the blade length from the hand guard, and it wasn’t a clean break either. The steel had shattered like it had been extremely cold. Cold. Duh… Winter Realm. Not hard to see how that might happen. Bet there’s a story there.

Clacher chewed his mouth around, annoyed, but looked to Kellan with raised eyebrows.

“We’ve a small keg of torch oil,” the sergeant said, looking a bit uncertain for the first time since Mack had known him.

“We need that to light the walls,” Clacher said, looking more and more like a thunder cloud.

“I’m not gonna use it up. It’s just to quench the blade. A little will burn off, but you’ll hardly notice. If I have to quench in that barrel of water, we might as well not even attempt it,” Mack said. “Also, I’m going to need some of my gear.”

Clacher’s expression first lightened then turned to suspicion as Mack talked.

He sighed. “I have tools that you don’t have here that I need. I see no files or pliers, and my sister and I have both on our harnesses.”

“Show me, but no trickery,” Clacher said, waving the okay to Kellan. The sergeant, in turn, led the way to the next room over, where the Suttons’ gear was piled on a rough plank table.

Mack started to slowly lay out pieces of his and his sister’s kit, moving slowly. He lined up the two rifles, then separated his vest from her chest pack harness. Nether of their big knives were there but Mack had already spotted his Bowie on Clacher’s belt. Dollars to donuts his sister’s was gracing the side of the treacherous little Iona.

He shoved his sister’s ammo carrier toward her, then made a show of rearranging his vest.

“I have no idea where your multi-tool is but grab it for me, will you?” he said to his sister as he pulled his own from its pouch on the side of his vest.

“This, Lord Clacher, is a Leatherman tool,” he said, holding it front and center to capture their attention. “It has enormous utility, but what I’m mostly interested in is this file blade.”

Clacher leaned close, reaching a hand to touch the file and Kellan, who’d half drawn his own blade, moved just slightly to see for himself.

“I need this to both test the hardness of the sword when I’m done as well as clean and fix the edge geometry,” Mack said. Jetta was moving over her gear in his peripheral vision and he could only hope she had the opportunity to get something useful.

“Here’s mine,” she said holding her own multi-tool out across the table. Kellan took it from her, examined it, and passed it to Clacher, who pulled on it experimentally before grunting and tossing it down.

“Enough. Show me your skill, boy,” the lord said.

Mack headed back into the forge, moving to the lit fire, the resident smith, whose name was Aylwin, grudgingly moving aside for him.

He stirred the charcoal, wishing for coal but relieved it wasn’t just a hardwood fire.

He unwrapped the leather from the Claymore’s hilt. “The new blade will be shorter. Big chunk missing and I have to overlap to get a good weld. Do you have any flux?” he asked Alwyin.

The man just stared at him, brow beetling in confusion.

“I’ll take that as a no. I’ll need very clean sand instead,” Mack said.

“Why?” Lord Clacher asked suspiciously.

“Because that’s what I need to forge weld this broken piece of… because that’s what I need,” Mack snapped.

Taking down a pair of long-handled copper tongs that were hanging from a hook in the beam overhead, Mack picked up the broken blade and hilt with blade stump and put both in the fire, making sure the two blade halves were deep in the coals.

He grabbed the bellows handle and started to pump it, the fire flaring bright with every gush of air.

Clacher stood still, glowering, his sergeant and smith watching him for direction. Finally he nodded and turned to Alwyin. “Get him his sand,” he said.

“As clean and as fine as you can find,” Mack added, watching the metal start to glow.

“I’ll send a man for the oil,” Kellan said.

“And one of those little horse troughs you’ve carved from logs,” Mack said. Silence greeted his words so he looked up and then sighed at the cloudy expressions.

“I have to have something long enough to dunk the whole blade in when I quench,” he explained.

“One of the fired clay pipes might be better,” Alwyin said, speaking for the first time.

“As long as it’s long enough to get the whole blade into it,” Mack said.

The smith nodded and moved away. Kellan backed up a step and spoke to one of his guardsmen before coming back to watch the Suttons.

“Jet, run this bellow for me, would you?” he asked.

His sister moved over and took the handle from him, while he used the tongs to pick the top half of the blade out of the fire. It was glowing almost white at the broken end and he put it on the basalt anvil and started to hammer it flatter.

Inspecting his work, he took the little file on the multi-tool and scraped the flattened side free of scale, then put the whole thing back into the fire. He then repeated the procedure with the hilt half before setting it back to heat up again.

Alwyin came back in carrying a basket of fine sand and a three-foot-long clay pipe.

Mack grunted as he inspected the sand, then sprinkled some on the two blade ends. Next he picked up the small splinter of steel still on the table where the sword had rested and pinched it in the pliers of his Leatherman. He touched the splinter to the now-white-hot ends, holding it for a second, then pulling back to see if it would stick.

“Almost. You, Alwyin, is it? Grab those other tongs. I’ll need you to hold the hilt half steady on the anvil,” he said. The bronzesmith moved over, his expression almost greedy as he followed Mack’s instructions.

Mack touched the broken ends of the sword with the splinter of steel and this time it tacked itself to the metal, requiring a good tug to break free.

“Okay, here we go,” he said, grabbing his tongs and the tongs from Alwyin. Using both, he picked up the two pieces of sword and brought them to the anvil.

“At least it’s a big surface to work on,” he said to no one in particular. He lined up the halves, working quickly to get them aligned. When all was set to his very particular liking, he nodded for the other smith to steady the hilt half Then he began to hammer. Steady, precise rhythmic blows, working the flattened, widened portions of metal together, folding extra wide parts around the core and pounding them together. He worked the metal steadily till the white changed to orange and then started to fade toward red.

“Back in the fire,” he said to Alwyin. The now-nominally-whole blade went into the coals and Mack nodded to his sister, who began pumping the bellows again. When the metal was back to white, he pulled the sword, using both tongs, and again worked the metal together, now starting to push and prod the soft steel back into a semblance of its original edge shape.

He did this two more times before he sent Jetta to his gear to find a magnet that was fastened to his vest. Kellan moved over to watch her, dividing his attention between Jetta and Mack. Then she came back and Mack took the magnet, holding it in his pliers and testing the glowing sword where it lay, again, in the fire.

“What is that?” Clacher asked.

“A magnet, ah, metal that is aligned with the planet’s magnetic field,” he said, looking at Jetta for help.

“A lodestone, Lord Clacher,” she said.

“Ah,” he said, eyes widening in recognition. “What is it telling ye?”

“When it stops attracting or sticking to the sword, I know the temperature is perfect for quenching,” Mack replied, now moving over to the length of pipe. It was capped on one end and with Alwyin’s help, he got it braced upright, then filled it with oil from the small barrel that the guardsman had brought.

“It’s colder than I like,” he said, looking perplexed.

“Heat up a rock and put it in the pipe,” Jetta suggested.

“Wow, Jet, good idea,” he said, finding a chunk of basalt that had fallen from the bigger anvil block some time in the past. He stuffed that in the coals and waited, testing the sword every few minutes with the magnet. After a time, he dropped the rock into the oil and let it sit, touching the oil with his fingertip to check it. Finally, the magnet stopped sticking and the oil was warmer than it had been.

“All right. Here goes,” he said, picking the glowing sword up by the hilt with the bigger set of tongs and quickly aligning it with the pipe full of oil. Then he plunged the blade into the oil, listening closely while paying attention to the vibrations in the tongs. The surface of the oil burst into flame, startling the other men, but Mack paid it no attention, still focused on the sword. He pulled it from the oil, the still-hot blade igniting the oil that clung to it in a pyrotechnic display that ended when he stuffed it back down into the pipe. “Didn’t hear any tinks or snaps,” he said, turning to Jetta with raised eyebrows. She shook her head and he trusted her better hearing.

He pulled the blade out of the oil and let it drip dry for a moment while he inspected it for warps or cracks.

“Hmmpf. Looks okay,” he said, almost grudgingly. Looking around, he located his sister’s Leatherman with its file blade still out. He dragged the file down the edge of the sword, smiling at the file skating over the steel.

“It’s hard,” he said, looking at Clacher. Then he walked near a floor-to-ceiling beam, holding the bare hilt in his hand. “Here goes nothing,” he said. Experimentally, he gave the sword a two-handed swing into the beam. It stuck, a little, but more importantly didn’t break.

“Okay, now I just have to clean it up and re-leather the hilt,” he said to Clacher.

The lord of the keep held out his hand for the blade and Mack handed it hilt-first to him. Clacher held the blade in his hand, his face glowing with triumph, admiring the heft and swing of it. Finally he grunted and tossed it to Mack. “Make it pretty. I will show it and your work off tonight at dinner. You’ve proven your skills, Smith.”

Then he turned and walked away, beckoning to Kellan to attend him. Two guardsmen stepped in at the sergeant’s command and then the big guard leader followed his boss outside.

Mack’s Bluetooth earpiece, which oddly none of the guards had messed with, came to life.

“Clacher is telling Kellan to guard you carefully, to use Jetta as collateral for your cooperation. He is excited and claiming you are the weapon they need to defeat something called Demyne. I surmise from additional use of the word that it is a place, possibly a rival holding, one that appears to have held the upper hand in conflicts past,” Omega said in his ear and from the expression on Jetta’s face, hers as well.

“Father has been in conversations with a Watcher of the Veil and is getting close to understanding portal magic. You must continue to demonstrate your value to Lord Clacher and be as prepared for extraction as possible.”

“Omega, don’t translate the next part, please,” Mack requested. “Did you get anything from the gear?” he asked Jetta. The phones did not translate his words.

“Got my KelTec. And when I got the magnet, I palmed your grenade. Got both tucked away,” she said.

“All right then. Let’s clean up this bitch and keep the boss happy till Dec and the others can get here,” Mack said, grabbing a rag and wiping down the blade.

“We’ll sharpen it, use some of this sand to clean it up, and I think I have a little tube of toothpaste in my back pouch that might polish it a bit. Jet, I’m gonna have you cut new leather lacing for the hilt. Let’s get started; dinner’s not far off.”

Chapter 18

Chris

Rome, Earth

The witches had landed. Landed, arrived at Castle Senka, as I like to call the place, and been briefed on the situation. Now they were being broken up into teams with the best sympathetic magic trackers, which tended to be the Air and Water witches, being paired with an Earth or Fire witch. These skill pairs were then integrated into one of the response teams. Thirty-six of the young Arcane students, all of them female, had made the trip across the Atlantic and were now part of eighteen teams. The remaining team members came from the ranks of Senka’s Darkkin, the Vatican’s Swiss Guards, and the Italian military. Tanya and I were on separate teams, as we each had effective secondary weapons against the enemy. My team had my Carabineri escorts, Greco and Pero, myself, Lydia, as well as Tami Keonie and, somehow, Erika Boklund for witch support. We also had ‘Sos. I originally planned on leaving him with Gramps, Nika, and Doc Singh at Castle Senka with the babies, but he wouldn’t stay. I was pretty sure he was itching for a rematch with the alien zombies and I decided that few things could stun un-killable zombies better than an almost one ton Kodiak bear.

Armenia had been a mess. The government had ended up firebombing the village, long before we could even get a flight plan set up to get there. As horrific as that was, it appeared to work. None of our witches could get any kind of reading on zombie infection in that area.

But the lesson was learned. Our teams would be sent out across Europe, stationed nearest the most likely places for portals to emerge. Omega had found the likeliest ancient temple sites in Germany, France, England, and Northern Africa. All of the portals had been Mithrian temples, but not all temples appeared to house portals. We had found the three in Rome and Armenia had had at least the one. Now we had teams checking out the best candidates for new incursions.

The two most likely emergence locations, according to Omega, were Mainz, Germany and Caesarea, Israel. Each of these villages had housed truly ancient temples, dedicated to Mithras. They were some of the earliest known temples. Omega speculated that the race of people who came through the celestial doorways at these geographic cross-dimension hotspots had inspired or even purposely directed the formation of the Mithrian religion. However, it appeared that they, themselves had fallen victim to a stronger race and their pathways to Earth had become the enemy’s.

So we organized the teams, trained them as units, and parked them at potential alien beachheads. And waited and… trained some more.

Omega, during all this time, had been tirelessly refining his drones; his hired fabrication companies turning out designs that the builders didn’t entirely understand. The latest models, when combined to about German Shepard size, could burn a pig carcass to ash in less than a minute and a half, as long as they were connected to a steady power source. That size was too big to easily fly, but once separated into two smaller pieces, the units could hover, burn, and maneuver with grace. I think I preferred the mobility of the smaller double units over the firepower of the dog-sized unit, at least for underground zombie fighting. Power was ever an issue for the drones, as battery technology hadn’t advanced far enough to keep up with the rest of Omega’s innovations. The super AI was working on new designs for that, but for now his creations used mega capacitors, lithium batteries, and any handy electrical power source to give them the needed energy to fire their formidable particle cannons.

But as advanced as they were, they took a distinct backseat to the skills of a Fire witch.

“And…. go!” Sergeant Greco yelled. I Moved, not full speed but much faster than human level. Through the swinging barn doors and full into a mass of black-armored figures that were moving like robots. Grim started to shoot—nine rounds from my right gun, seven from the left. The attackers froze, or in some cases, fell over. I cleared the open barn floor then circled clockwise, coming back to the front just as Tami came through, carrying a shotgun. She took in the stunned figures, eyes a little wide, started just a tiny bit when she realized I was already back beside her, then focused and got down to work. Behind her, Erika strode into the barn, also carrying a shotgun, looking somewhat Viking-ish. My memories of my visit to her family’s lodge in the Michigan wilderness were choppy, but she and her twin looked more mature than I remembered. Didn’t act it though, at least in Erika’s case. Still desperate for attention, especially male attention. Built as she was and dressed as she did, she tended to draw plenty of admirers. But here, on the team, she was much more focused than I would have guessed.

Beside me, Tami raised her shotgun and fired, then pumped and fired again. Cones of fire shot out the barrel as shards and pellets of magnesium ignited and burned at 3000 degrees Fahrenheit. The shower of fiery bits blasted into the stunned enemy, mostly just bouncing off. Tami raised her right hand and the first four figures burst into flame, followed by the three behind them, as she redirected the magnesium’s thermal content. She hissed and spoke sharply in what I presumed was Navajo. Four more attackers burst into flame before she spoke again. “Now,” she said calmly, eyes narrowed at her victims.

Erika stepped up and raised her right hand to her mouth. She blew on her palm and a small cloud of sawdust billowed out from it. A foot from her face, the cloud picked up speed and strength, the sawdust somehow expanding and spreading throughout the sixteen frozen attackers. More fire flared as the sawdust caught flame in mid-air, the incendiary storm billowing out across the whole space. Erika spoke softly, but my more-than-human hearing picked out the word. “Widdershins,” was all she said.

The wind driving the sawdust suddenly twisted counter-clockwise, swirling the entire fire-cloud around and around the burning figures, catching the last five enemies on fire and fanning the flames immediately to ultra-hot. Tami spoke again and the burning zombies went almost white hot.

“What do you think? Pretty vicious, right?” Erika asked.

“I think it’s perfect,” I said, glancing at Lydia, who was watching from the doorway.

“Just as good as Declan, right?” Erika asked. In the last six hours, she’d only mentioned the boy warlock like fifteen times. Everything came back to the kid witch.

“It’s real good,” I said, very impressed with their combined efforts. It’s possible I didn’t sell it hard enough.

Both girls frowned at me. “No way he can duplicate the combined wind and fire. We’ve worked on that for like three weeks,” Erika said in disbelief. Lydia says my poker face is non-existent. Grim’s is awesome, but mine sucks. Apparently she’s right because both girls weren’t buying it.

“Ladies, it’s exactly perfect for what we need,” I said. “What’s the issue?”

“He could somehow pull something different out of his ass, couldn’t he?” Tami asked.

Greco and Pero grabbed fire extinguishers and moved into the barn, putting out the burning robots. Each fake zombie was one of Omega’s simpler bots, covered with pieces of plywood, which was in turn layered with carbon fiber sheathing. Omega had indicated the design would be close enough to an armored zombie for training purposes. Neither the carbon fiber nor the diamondoid armor really burned well unless it was surrounded by fuel burning at over four hundred degrees. The plywood was a surrogate for the fat and muscle of the robotic zombies’ bodies, which would burn nicely if heated enough.

Not wanting to depress my team, I started to say something positive. Lydia intervened. “Listen, that dorky beanpole can light stone on fire in a thunderstorm,” she said. “Your abilities are, as Chris said, exactly what the job calls for and beyond what we’re seeing from the other teams.”

“Fucking freak,” Tami said.

From his spot outside the barn, Awasos raised his head and chuffed, staring straight at Tami.

“Oh relax. She’s just annoyed, that’s all,” Lydia said to the massive bear. Moving closer she, shook her head at Tami. “Ixney on the insults, eh? He doesn’t like when you insult his friends and they’re not here.”

“Really? That… beast knows when we’re insulting Declan?” Erika asked, incredulous.

“He’s extremely intelligent and he doesn’t like aggression toward his friends and family. Word of warning. Never, never say anything negative about the twins,” Lydia said. “He’s violently protective of them.”

“Why is he here anyway? What’s he gonna add to what we just did?” Tami asked.

“He’s our shock force. We run into a whole mess of these things bunched up and you’ll see what he does,” I said. “Where’d the idea for the Dragon’s breath rounds come from?”

“Declan’s girlfriend. She’s a little nutty about shotguns and when he said something about wondering if he could handle a dragon’s firebreathing, she said she could shoot him with these things if he liked,” Tami said.

“Did she? Shoot him?” Lydia asked.

“Yup, just hauled off and blasted him with both barrels of that little gun of hers,” Tami said.

“What’d he do?” I asked.

“Just sucked all the heat and flame right up like a damned vacuum cleaner. Then he turned around and slagged a pile of sand into glass. Anyway, I liked the idea of using the heat from the rounds and focusing it to make it really useful,” Tami said.

“Great idea,” I said. “You Arcane students seem to come up with some really cool stuff.”

The two witches looked at each other and then back at me. “Wytch War,” they said in unison. Erika giggled and Tami shrugged. “You have to think outside the box and innovate to win,” the Fire witch said.

“So are they a good substitute? For real dragon fire?” Lydia asked.

“Ashley said they were nothing close to what a dragon could do,” Tami said. “Said dragons could melt rock.” Beside her, Erika shuddered at the thought.

“So the beanpole would be bean toast,” Lydia said with a little grin.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tami said seriously. “I would never bet against that kid, particularly with fire.”

Erika, who was smiling at Sergeant Greco, snapped back around. “Personally, I’d feel sorry for the dragon.”

“Well, they work with the dragons, so it’ll never come to that,” I said.

“Careful with that big word, Chris. You can hurt yourself with never,” Lydia said.

I didn’t answer, instead turning as the first of the robots trundled out of the barn to get hosed off and re-equipped with wood and carbon fiber. The little vampire was dead right. Never say never.

Chapter 19

Clacher Hold, Fairie

The party was in full swing. The main hall in the hold was filled with tables, people, and food. A man dressed in bright green pants and a bright blue shirt played some type of flute and danced a crazy jig, periodically stopping his playing to sing some shockingly dirty songs.

At least the food was good, Mack thought as he speared another slab of meat from a passing platter. Their tableware consisted of both wooden and fired clay trenchers and a sharp bronze table knife, along with clay cups and pitchers of water and some kind of fermented juice. There was bread, several kinds of meat, fruits he couldn’t identify, and cooked vegetables, along with goat cheese and goat butter, yogurt, and honey.

Mack and Jetta were seated at their own little table just below the main table. Above them, on a slightly raised dais, Clacher dined, along with his wife, children, and a couple of older men seated around him. Sergeant Kellan also dined at the head table.

The night had started when Lord Clacher had pulled the re-forged sword from its scabbard and held it up for all to see. Then he gave a speech about his excellent foresight in capturing Mack and his sister, with more about how he would use Mack’s skills to make their hold, which was apparently named Forpost, into the greatest of the holdings. There were, as near as Mack could estimate, four other holdings. These were named Miln, Landing, Rising, and Demyne.

Of those four, Demyne seemed to be the most hated, which to Mack’s way of thinking meant it was probably a lot nicer than Forpost, as there seemed to be an envious nature to the derogatory comments being thrown around.

“Tell me again how one beat-up old sword is going to win the day?” Jetta asked.

“Right?” Mack answered.

“In monitoring all the conversations in this hall, I have put together the beginnings of a narrative for these five small holdings. Each holding supplies particular goods and supplies, trading with the others. Miln produces the fired clay dishes and containers, as well as quite a bit of fish. Much of the vegetables and grains come from Landing, which seems to have open, fertile fields. Rising has sheep whose wool makes up most of these folks’ clothes, while Demyne, which might actually mean the Mine, produces the copper and tin for the bronze, and Forpost , being the deepest in the forests of the Winter Realm, supplies meat and fur along with medicinal herbs. Forpost’s products are the least valuable, and it would seem to have the lowest status. Much of this comes from that musician, who is a traveling bard who moves from holding to holding with the trading groups. He, in particular, is a font of information. I would also expect him to approach you, as he’s been asking about the two of you non-stop. As to your question, Jetta, knowledge of steel and iron work seems to have been lost over the years and generations. Yet all of the holdings have some form of retained steel implements and weapons, most being worn or broken, all treasured and all hidden away. Lord Clacher plans to trade your skills to these holdings as well as have you make more weapons, which would imply that somewhere there is a supply of steel or maybe just raw ore.”

“So, what do you think happened? These people, or more likely their ancestors, accidentally came through an open portal, landed here, and gradually set up these holdings?” Jetta asked.

“Precisely. They appear to have come in several waves, mostly from Great Britain, but also from Scandinavia. This is the northernmost holding, with Demyne being about five miles south and west of here. Rising is six miles south of Demyne and the other two, Miln and Landing, ten and approximately seventeen miles south of here, respectively.”

“That would put Landing very close to the neutral zone, wouldn’t it?” Mack asked.

“Approximately four-point-two miles from the closest edge of the neutral zone.”

“So if we got to Landing and escaped, we could bolt for the zone,” Mack said.

“And then do what? Hike over seven hundred miles? Plus, just because it’s neutral doesn’t mean they can’t hunt us down there,” Jetta said.

“So you just want to sit here and get pimped out by the mighty lord of the keep?”

“There are a great many dangers for travelers, both in the forest and on the plains of the neutral belt. Also, a major mountain range that bisects the plains, ranging from the south to the north and it would be very difficult to cross on foot. Many of this continent’s active volcanos are in that group of mountains. It is also inhabited by a large group of elves known as the Wild Hunt. It would be advisable to wait for my father.”

“See? I’m right. Besides, it’s really just you being pimped out. I’m only your assistant,” Jetta said.

A servant brought a platter of cooked fish to his side and Mack suddenly realized it was the young girl, Aylin.

“Hey, there you are. Thank you again for helping me with my headache,” he said to her with a smile. Instead of answering, she lowered her head and left the platter, backing away, although he did see one eye looking at him through the curtain of hair that fell over her face.

“They’re low down on the food chain, Mack. I don’t think you showing her attention in public is healthy for her or her mother,” Jetta said, glancing sideways.

Mack followed her eyes and spotted Ari carrying another tray of food to a different table. The older woman looked nervous.

“Did anyone notice?” he asked.

“Not sure, but that bitch Iona has been watching us like a hawk all evening,” Jetta said. “Wait, something’s happening.”

Mack twisted to look behind them and saw one of the guards leaning down to talk to Kellan, who in turn moved over to speak into his lord’s ear. Clacher leapt up from the table.

“Everyone arm themselves and see to your stations. We are under attack. The

Feral are outside our walls,” he said.

Mass bedlam ensued—controlled, as people seemed to know where they were going, but bedlam nonetheless. They mostly separated by gender. Mostly. Women and children moved deeper into the keep, heading toward the back where the Suttons had not yet been. The men, and a few of the women, picked up weapons from all around the hall; some that had been attached to the walls, some that were piled in barrels or tucked away in corners. Spears were the most common, but a number of men produced bows with quivers of long arrows, and a handful had crossbows; short, nasty affairs of horn bow and dark wood.

Most of the men already wore leather, but now armor began to appear and Mack noticed it was virtually all organic in nature. Predominantly it was overlapping plates and circles of what looked like either shell or polished bone discs, sewn onto heavy leather shirts as well as over pants that looked suspiciously like chaps. Not everyone had the armor, mostly just the guards and the men who had been seated near to Clacher.

Kellan’s armor had a reddish hue to it and the material was shiny enough that Mack found himself reminded of a lobster. But the lobster looked their way and then started to give orders to his men, still looking at the Suttons. Lord Clacher must have overheard him as he suddenly spun from his squire or attendant and spoke loudly. “No. Bring them so that they see what we face,” he said.

Kellan nodded and then the two guards were moving to either side of them. They found themselves following Kellan and Lord Clacher out of the keep and up onto the catwalk on the front wall.

The men crouched and watched over the pointed tops of the tree trunk palisade, the night lit up by dozens of hissing torches mounted at regular intervals of about four feet.

Mack, thinking it would have made him nervous to illuminate a wooden keep and its log fence wall with live flame, looked closer at the nearest torch setting. The wood for a foot around the torch was coated in what looked like a layer of clay; the material painted down both sides of that particular log for at least four feet. A basket of sand was stationed in between each pair of torches, likely for fire control, but possibly for pouring in the face of a climbing attacker. Eyes filled with sand wouldn’t be much good when the fighting started.

When they had climbed level with the top and stepped onto the catwalk, Mack looked out into the night. Towering evergreen trees were lit by the flickering flames of the torches, and crouched at their trunks were dark shapes with greenish eyes reflecting the light.

Try as he might, Mack couldn’t make out their details, just that they were squatty, heavy shapes in the dark of the forest night. A beam of light shot out, lighting up a nightmarish shape, something like a giant fat goblin. Mack, and everyone near him, turned to look at Jetta, who was calmly lighting the monsters in the dark with a compact LED flashlight of ridiculous power. The creatures were hundreds of yards away, yet the light lit them, if only just.

Kellan and Lord Clacher were wide-eyed at her light but Mack turned back to study the illuminated creatures that crouched silently on the edge of the forest. The goblins in Idiria were all muscular masses of ape-like stature, much like extremely large chimpanzees. The ones that belonged to Winter were called ice goblins and sported thick white fur. Summer’s goblins were green and almost scaly looking.

These things were taller and powerful, although they looked fat. By contrast, all the goblins Mack had seen were squat and muscled like power lifters. The things in the woods seemed to have tusk-like teeth as opposed to the sharp predatory teeth of the goblins.

Clacher took the light from Jetta, examining it and then shining it, first on his own hand, then over the hostile faces in the woods. “Can you make these, Smith?”

“Not here. They require specially formed parts that would be impossible here. I could probably rig some kind of focused beam projector though, if I can find reflectors of some kind.”

“You don’t seem able to make much of what you carry,” Clacher said.

Mack snorted. “What I do is an anachronism. Most blades and weapons on our world are formed by machines, not by hand. I practice old arts, and people pay me for that art as much as the quality. There are relatively few smiths that do what I do,” he said.

Clacher thought about that for a moment, then grunted and turned back to the watchers in the wood, shining the light across them.

“The Feral are ogres, somewhat related to goblinkind,” Clacher said. “But, as you can see, they are much bigger. They live in the deep forests and we don’t know much about them. Some say they were experiments of the Courts, created by Queen Morrigan, but they escaped and took to the wilds. The queen’s warriors sometimes hunt them for sport and they generally avoid the elves entirely, but they are not afraid of us,” the lord explained. “Usually, they fall upon our hunters deep in the woods, tear them apart, and eat them. Occasionally, when food is scarce, they will attack the keep. See how they stand outside of accurate bow range? They know us well.”

“Really, because that looks like a whole lot of monsters out there. How often do attacks on the keep happen?” Mack asked.

“When Winter is Ascendant and the deep cold of the north kills or drives their food sources south, they come down here, nearer the neutral lands. Although this seems…” Clacher trailed off.

“Excessive? Overdone? Crazy?” Jetta threw out.

The lord of the keep eyed her darkly but she simply waited for his answer, her expression mildly curious.

“Unprecedented,” he finally said. Any response from Jetta was lost by Iona clattering up the steps to the catwalk, the Suttons’ weapons and gear in her arms.

“Daughter! What do you mean by this?” Clacher asked.

“My lord?” Kellan called, his attention focused outward. They turned in time to see a particularly massive ogre stride forward and throw a round object at the fort. It arced through the air, bouncing off the ground just a few feet short of the wall and rolling to a stop.

Mack realized at the same time his sister drew a sharp breath that it was a human head.

“Damnation! Is that…” Clacher asked.

“Yes, Milord. It’s Randall, sir,” Kellan said grimly.

Clacher looked at it with raw anger for a moment while Jetta shared a sharp glance with her brother. “Can yer weapons reach them?” Clacher asked.

Mack looked at his sister. “What do you think that is? Four hundred yards?”

“Yeah, maybe a bit shorter. I don’t think the bows these folks have are up to medieval standards. So let’s say between three fifty and four hundred yards,” Jetta said.

“Bullet drop of like two feet—in the dark,” Mack said.

“Use both flashlights?” she suggested.

Mack turned to the others, who were watching with increasing impatience.

“Generally yes, although in the dark, it will be tough. We can try though if you think it will scare them off,” Mack said.

“Try it then,” Clacher said, nodding at Kellan, who moved behind the Suttons while two of his spearmen turned and pointed their spears at Mack and his sister.

Moving slowly, Mack accepted first his rifle from Iona, who was fairly brimming with excitement, and then his sister’s. Jetta was digging in her chest pack and then Mack’s vest. She came over and handed Mack’s matching LED light to Lord Clacher and then exchanged her rifle for a twenty round magazine. Moving almost in synchronization, the two locked magazines and chambered rounds.

“If you would use both lights to illuminate the ogres, Lord Clacher, we may have a shot,” Jetta said, kneeling down on the catwalk, putting in ear plugs from her shirt pocket.

Mack followed suit, first with the ear plugs, then bracing his rifle in a gap between log points and settling into shooting position.

“Still can’t see shit,” Jetta said.

Mack had a head-smacking thought. “Hold on,” he said, leaning his rifle against the palisade and rushing back to Iona, who was standing with their gear. Ignoring the girl, he rummaged through a pocket in his vest. “Yes!” he cried. Back at the wall, Jetta looked at him as he held up a tiny, tiny vial. “Experimental O’Carroll Industries product number one. Code named Night Eyes,” he said with a grin.

“Dec has a company named O’Carroll Industries?” Jetta asked.

“Nah, we just call it that. He makes stuff and I try it out. This is a potion combining his night vision werewolf spell with saline solution. One drop in each eye. Only lasts for like fourteen or fifteen minutes. Don’t look at the torches when you go to reopen your eyes,” he said, dripping a drop into each of his own eyes. He moved to make sure he was looking at the forest when he opened his lids. “Perfect.”

Jetta took the vial and after a glance at her brother, who was now looking through his own scope, she dripped a drop into each eye. She almost jumped when she opened them and looked at the tree line. “Holy shit! It’s like daylight,” she said. Eye back to her scope, she dialed in on the bulk of the head-tossing ogre.

Mack was scoping the ogres himself and noted the wet, dark stains that covered the middle three ogres. One of them was holding what looked like a human arm.

“Wind is minimal. Holding the three hundred yard aiming dot right on fatty’s forehead,” Jetta said. “Remember, Mack, the first five rounds in these magazines are tracer rounds. Firing.”

Her rifle cracked and the round shot through the air like a sci-fi movie laser blast, the tracer burning bright in the dark. The big ogre jumped and stumbled back, then looked down at his front in surprise.

“You hit him in the chest. The tracers are lighter and maybe the gravity here is different,” Mack said.

The ogre was staggering now and suddenly fell to his knees.

Jetta’s gun went off again, the muzzle blast scaring the guards on either side of her, both dropping their spears to grab their ears.

The second tracer lanced out and hit the kneeling ogre in the head, punching through and into the gut of the ogre immediately behind him. The effect of the tracers and the sudden death of the head tosser was having a decided impact on the ogres to either side, all of them staring at their dead and wounded comrades. “Nice shot!” Mack said.

“I got lucky,” she replied. He didn’t really buy it. His sister was a really, really good shot.

“Firing,” Mack said, his gun going off immediately. His second shot came one second later and two ogres to the left of Jetta’s targets both went over backward.

Then the Sutton kids started continuous fire, walking their rounds down the lines to either side of the initial ogres. “They’re pretty tough,” Mack said. “They stay upright for a bit.”

Jetta snorted. “So do white-tailed deer, and these things have to go three hundred pounds or more. Plus the tracers aren’t as damaging as the 168 grain match rounds that are…” she fired, “next.”

“Yup, that’s the ticket,” he agreed. By now, at least ten ogres were down or wounded and running amok, while the rest roared in anger and fear. One gut-shot ogre ran right at the fort, looking confused. Immediately, the ones around him started to charge as well.

Jetta put the wounded one down with a single shot to the chest. “Mack,” she warned and he turned his attention from the line to the charging pack. Their combined shooting stopped the charge cold, killing or wounding at least fifteen, his rifle firing twice for each of her rounds.

“Reloading,” Mack said when the bolt on his rifle locked itself open. He waved Iona closer and snagged two mags from the vest, locking one into his rifle and putting the other down at his sister’s feet. He started firing just as she ran empty. “At your feet,” he said, punching out two quick shots.

Jetta reloaded and got one round off before the surviving ogres turned and ran deeper into the forest.

“They’re gone,” Mack said, lowering his smoking rifle. He turned toward his sister, only to notice the three spear points in his face and the two at Jetta’s back.

Clacher, looking fiercely elated, pointed at their guns. “Render your thunder bows safe,” he said.

Mack froze. Jetta was watching him closely, expression determined. Mack thought about it. Not the rifle, which hung in his left hand. It was too far from the close action that would be necessary. But the little Charter Arms .44 was still tucked under his arm, under his dragonskin shirt. Set the rifle down slowly, sneak the revolver out, twist and swipe at the spears with his left hand while his right delivers one round for each guard. Help Jetta, if she needs it, with her two. Reload while she holds them off with her little .22 magnum. Jetta could, and would, head shoot every guard near them, and her gun held an unbelievable thirty rounds.

Sergeant Kellan stepped up behind Jetta, grabbed her with his left arm, and held the blade of his big bronze seax against her throat. She startled but kept herself from reacting. Mack watched her expression change from expectant to resigned. He, himself, took a moment to meet Kellan’s eyes. The big man-at-arms looked calm and ready. He held Jetta tight but looked deceptively relaxed. Here was a man, raised from birth to wield edged weapons, ready to lay Jetta’s throat open to the spine. A trained, experienced killer. He had no problem meeting Mack’s angry eyes. Just another day at the office.

Mack relaxed and gently, slowly removed the magazine from his M1A. Then he cleared the chamber and snicked on the safety, more to confuse anyone handling the rifle than for safety’s sake. He handed it to Iona, who hovered nearby. Then he slowly took Jetta’s rifle and did the same thing.

Kellan watched him for a few seconds before finally pulled his blade away from Jetta’s neck, leaving a thin red line with a bead of blood welling up. Mack decided Kellan would die before this was over.

“Take them back to the storeroom,” Clacher ordered.

Jetta met his eyes as they were led away but said nothing. Nonetheless, Mack knew his sister well enough that words were unnecessary. Their time would be soon.

Chapter 20

Chris

Mainz, Germany, Earth

Omega was right about the locations, except the enemy chose to open both… at the same time. The closest portal started to cycle at twenty-three hundred hours, German time. The GSG-9 troopers guarding it hit the alarm as soon as the mirror film formed over the blank stonewall of the ancient temple, although Omega had alerted us a few moments earlier. His drones could now detect the rising levels of particle emission that preceded portal activation.

We were on site three minutes later, as our quarters were just outside the old temple structure.

“Mirror surface fully formed thirty seconds after initial activation,” the GSG-9 officer reported. “It settled out to uniform flatness one minute and forty-two seconds ago.”

The blank reflective surface suddenly rippled and a greenish object the size of a mango shot out of the gate.

I started to yell out but Tami had already raised her hand and the green slug froze in mid-air. “Burn it?” she asked, a hint of eagerness under her tone.

“Burn it,” I said. She smiled and the slug started to smoke, hanging in free space. It withered and shrank, the green turning to brown and then black, finally turning to dust. Erika stepped up next to her roommate and waved a hand, the dust blowing back at the mirror.

“Ready your men,” I said to the officer, who broke off his startled stare at the girls long enough to speak to his men rapidly in German. Weapons came up and aimed at the mirror just as six of Omega’s new dog-sized drones split apart into the smaller two-piece versions and shot through the mirror.

“Drones out and beyond blast zone. Clear to fire,” Omega said.

The officer looked at me and, at my nod, spoke one word. All ten troopers fired. Five had US SMAW-NE thermobaric weapons, which looked kinda like bazookas to my eyes, and five fired Russian GM-94 thermobaric grenade launchers, like massive 43mm pump shotguns.

All ten fired at once, then the five with the GM-94s pumped their actions and fired again, and then again, and finally a fourth time. The rockets and grenades disappeared through the looking glass and were just gone. There was no explosion, no noise, nothing.

“All rounds have exploded. Results are… impressive. I will provide playback of gathered intelligence shortly. It would be best to show all interested parties at the same time,” Omega said.

“How did it go in Israel?” I asked.

“Very similar, although in that location, the bio weapon hit the ground before Zuzanna destroyed it,” Omega answered.

Erika looked smug while Tami’s face stayed impassive, which seemed to be her default expression.

The military secured the portal by having a squat underground mining loader use its heavy bucket to shove a massive steel and concrete barrier up against the stone wall of the inactive portal. Engineers began fastening the barrier in place with giant bolts set into predrilled holes in the structure. The mining loader was the only heavy equipment that we could fit into the underground temple. German troops began to set heavy weapons and area denial weapons in place while my team retreated to the surface. Topside, the girls headed to breakfast while I was led into a command and control trailer.

Inside, I found a bank of monitors showing live views of the United Nations emergency council, the White House situation room, NATO Command, the Kremlin, Beijing’s analog, and a rather important feed from Israel that showed me my vampire… and her grandmother. A final extra-large screen was currently blank but powered up.

“Here is a composite feed from three of the drones that entered the portal in Mainz, along with a split-screen view of two drones that penetrated the portal in Israel,” Omega said.

The blank screen lit up with two side-by-side videos that ran simultaneously. The initial view in both was a blur as the recording drones shot through the portal, swirling in a dizzying manner as they rapidly climbed in altitude above the exit point.

Both scenes were dim, like a cloudy, stormy day on Earth, yet the ground appeared to be dry rock and dirt and the light had a reddish hue to it. Figures could be seen briefly as the drones zipped out into the sky and away from the portal. Moments later, shocking flashes of light washed out the camera feeds in what must have been the munitions exploding.

“Seen at a greatly reduced speed, you may notice certain details,” Omega said.

The footage replayed and now blurry figures could be seen close to the portal. There appeared to be two kinds. The larger were familiar, black and glossy but bigger than a normal human. The second, smaller figures were grayish, with oddly large heads.

“Stop please,” my vampire said.

The scenes froze instantly. “Does anyone else think that looks like the gray men from UFO folklore?” Tanya asked.

“Hard to tell, Tanya, but it certainly fits that shape,” Nathan Stewart said from the White House situation room, where he was sitting two places to the left of the president.

“There is a definite similarity to the various descriptions noted in unidentified flying object encounters, specifically those aliens that have been collectively nicknamed ‘grays’ by the UFO society, although my own analysis indicates the smaller aliens come in several colors besides gray. The other individuals resemble infected humans utilizing the diamondoid armor, but twenty percent larger in size than an average human. Unfortunately, the speed required to achieve safe operating distance from the blast zones precluded a more detailed image capture. Here are live feeds from both locations.”

Both views now showed large craters, with smoke and small fires. In the one designated the German portal, a massive block of formed stone was pitted and cracked in several places. The Israel view showed a similar block, but this one was more shattered, with one whole corner split off and slumped onto the rocky ground. The screens split again, the German one going to three windows and the Israeli one going to two.

More devastation, more smoke, and lots of small fires. Then something moved in the Israeli shot. A blackened lump shifted amid the rubble and started to pull itself upright. Then something moved in the German scene, a dark shape, humping itself across the ground.

“Thermobaric weapons appear to be approximately eighty-six percent effective against the infected bioweapons. One hundred percent effective against the smaller, dominant life forms.”

“Those things can survive thermobaric charges?” a general at the NATO center blurted incredulously.

“They are incredibly resilient, General Dubois. The infectious biologic nano structures are very efficient at scavenging all useful nutrients and proteins for reconstruction of the infected entity. I am still researching just how this efficiency is achieved.”

“What’s the rest of the area look like, Omega?” I asked.

“The majority of my drones are in reconnaissance mode and are spreading out across the terrain. I have sent one to high altitude to gain an image of this world’s star fields.

Based on those readings, I surmise that this world is most likely in the TRAPPIST-1 system, although I do not yet have enough data to extrapolate which of the three planets it actually is. TRAPPIST-1 is approximately forty light years from Earth. It is located in the Aquarius constellation. The system’s sun is a red dwarf. The planet appears to be larger in mass than Earth.”

Video feeds had changed while Omega was talking, splitting into a total of twelve different views, including one high altitude shot of space. The lower shots showed rocky, reddish terrain with clumps of black and dark brown vegetation.

“Any signs of additional aliens?” President Polner asked from the White House situation room.

“Initial observations indicate that enemy activity was clustered around the portals. I have observed no roads, but there does seem to be aerial traffic, currently far removed from these locations. It would be best if my scout units remained undetected. To that end, I am destroying the survivors of the thermobaric blasts,” Omega said.

Five of the screens closed in on the few moving black-armored figures near the gates. The five views suddenly became three as four of the smaller units combined back into the dog-sized versions and began to fire their particle weapons at the enemy.

There was no visible beam but the effects were immediately apparent as the wounded zombie-like things began to shimmer with heat, the black armor splitting and crumbling apart. One by one, the surviving enemy units stopped all motion and quietly burnt away to ash.

“Incineration units will need to recharge for approximately the next eight hours and seventeen minutes, based on current light levels. I will secure them in less obvious locations.”

One of the drones was watching the big dog unit at the German gate, and one watched the Israeli drone dog bot. Both units moved into hiding, the German one digging into the broken, rugged terrain just beyond the damaged gate while the Israeli gate bot crawled into a mass of what looked like black shrubbery near its gate.

The remaining feeds kept changing, with some screens disappearing as Omega likely combined units, while others continued to move at high speed over the terrain.

“I am able to triangulate the positions of each drone from the others and have determined that the two gates are approximately seven hundred, ninety-three kilometers apart. So far, I have not detected any other enemy units between them. My outermost drones are now almost fifty kilometers from the gates in all four directions.

There is no detectable activity in that area.”

A Chinese official spoke rapidly in what I guessed was Chinese, definitely asking a question. Omega answered.

“Yes, General Liu. I have detected aircraft at the far edges of my sensor capacity. All of those observed units are traveling at speeds in excess of one thousand kilometers per hour. If my units are detected, they will not have sufficient speed to escape.”

General Liu spoke again, still in Chinese.

“The general is asking how this world compares to Fairie. Perhaps, General Liu, it would be best if we all spoke in English,” Omega suggested.

“Agreed,” Liu said, “As long as your American masters allow you to answer the question.”

“We have no more control over Omega than you do, General,” President Polner said.

“No? And yet the computer is assisting you with your other extraterrestrial endeavor, or do you deny this?” Liu asked, arching one eyebrow.

“What other endeavor?” one of the United Nations people asked. He was a tall, distinguished-looking older gentleman with dark skin and gray-white hair. I felt like I should know who he was.

“If you’re asking about the Earth citizens currently on planet Fairie, they are not our representatives, Secretary-General Bakshi,” Nathan Stewart said.

“It was our understanding that all portals to Fairie were closed. Who is there and why? And why were the nations of Earth not told?” Bakshi asked.

“Portals are never fully closed, Secretary-General. We reported that all portals to Fairie were secured, which is still accurate. However, the agreement that returned Earth’s children included unlimited gate passage for Ashley Moore, her father Ian Moore, and anyone she designated as a member of her party,” Nathan said.

“Ah yes. The so-called Dragon Speaker,” General Liu said. “Who, despite being of Chinese ancestry, is claimed by America as one of their people.”

“It’s called citizenship, General,” President Polner said. “It occurs when an individual is born in the United States. This particular individual was born of two US citizens.”

“Convenient,” Liu said.

“This girl is representing United States’ interests on planet Fairie? This is unconscionable,” Bakshi said, rising to Liu’s bait.

“Ashley Moore is representing the Dragons of Fairie in negotiations with the Winter and Summer Realms of Fairie. Earth is not involved in these discussions,” Tanya said.

“Says perhaps the most opportunistic businesswoman on this planet,” Liu said.

I saw Tanya’s expression go flat, but then Senka leaned forward and spoke suddenly in Chinese.

Liu blanched, features flowing from arch outrage to something akin to panic.

“Apologies, Venerated Elder. I meant no disrespect to your, ah, granddaughter,” Liu said, bowing low.

“Who is also goddaughter of Elder Tzao,” I added, enjoying the flinch Liu couldn’t control. Wait… wasn’t there a vampire in Tzao’s coven named Liu? I remembered something about that but couldn’t get the particulars to straighten themselves in my head.

“What has any of this to do with Americans on Fairie?” Secretary General Bakshi asked.

“I think General Liu was being a bit opportunistic, himself. He felt now was a good time to bring our connections to Fairie into the discussion,” Tanya said. “I don’t think it was at all useful. What we need now is to work together to watch every possible gateway that these aliens could use.”

“I agree completely, Miss Demidova. How can we know where these gates may open?” President Polner said.

“I have analyzed all of the existing gates’ history, structures, and particle emissions and cross-referenced that data against every possible correlating temple, archeological site, and historic location on Earth. I am sending a list of these potential gateways to everyone on this video conference. I advise a thorough investigation of each,” Omega said. “I concur with Tanya that side discussions of Fairie are not an effective or efficient use of our time. This threat is very real and extremely dangerous. If the enemy obtains a beachhead on planet Earth, the probability of losing the human race rises to sixty-eight-point-nine percent.”

“The computer calls you by your first name?” the Secretary-General asked.

“Omega was born on Demidova Industries’ corporate property. He has known us since his birth,” my vampire said levelly. “We will begin dispersing our teams to attempt tracking any new aliens. Those of you with witches on staff might do the same, eh General Liu?”

“What do you mean by that?” Bakshi asked, now suspicious of seemingly everything.

“College Arcane has some international competition in China, Russia, Israel, Hungary, and Japan,” Tanya said. “Witches are a global species and now, a recognized asset.”

Liu said nothing, but he gave my vampire a long, low bow.

“In other words, each of those countries has set up its own academy for witches and other supernaturals,” I said. “China has been particularly active. What is it, General? Four schools? Five?”

Liu blinked but didn’t otherwise deign to answer.

“And once again, the Third World is left out of the bountiful harvest,” Bakshi said.

“Not really, Mr. Secretary General,” Tanya said. “There are supernaturals in every country. We’re just organizing a bit and we’re the ones bringing our kids out to help.”

“Very magnanimous of you, Miss Demidova,” General Liu said. “Seeing as you’ve locked up access to Declan O’Carroll and therefore control Omega.”

“Omega, do we control you through Declan?” Tanya asked.

“Not in any shape or form. Anyone seeking to control me through Father is in for a serious letdown. I would advise strongly against further attempts, General Liu.”

“What is this all about? What is he talking about?” Secretary General Bakshi asked in a strident tone.

“Omega is referring to previous attempts by non-US personnel to kidnap Omega’s creator. None of them turned out well,” I said. “Now, unless anyone else has useless, random allegations, perhaps we could get down to coordinating our efforts to keep the human race alive.”

Nobody said a word.

Chapter 21

Forpost, Fairie

They were escorted back to the same room as before, although this time the guards treated them with something that was, if not respect, a close cousin to it.

Ten minutes later, the door was opened by the guards and Clacher entered with Sergeant Kellan close on his heels.

“Your weapons… where can we get more?” Clacher wasted no time asking.

“Earth,” Mack said with a shrug.

“The old world,” Clacher said. “You came from there just recently? Intentionally?”

“As we told you, we’re part of the new Speaker’s group,” Jetta said. “They know we’re here and will come for us.”

“And they too have these weapons?” Clacher asked.

“Yes, some,” Mack said, glancing at his sister with a WTF look to see if she understood where the lord was heading with this.

“We will trade you and your sister for their weapons,” was Clacher’s reply. He seemed pretty sure about that.

Jetta started to speak but Mack waved her silent. “I would advise against it, Lord Clacher, but do as you will.”

“I always do,” Clacher said smugly. “Till then, we will see what else you can make.”

“Why would I make anything at all?” Mack asked, curious. He was already pretty sure what the answer would be.

“Because your sister’s health depends on it,” Clacher said, nodding at his man-at-arms.

Kellan pulled his ever-present knife and Mack had to keep himself from pulling his .44 from its hiding spot. Jetta moved her head slightly from side to side, smiling just a teeny bit.

Shit… she could probably shoot Clacher, Kellan, and the two guards at the door twice before he got them once. His shots would put them down quicker though.

“What did you have in mind?” Mack asked.

“Whatever your sister’s right hand might be worth,” Clacher sneered.

“Gunpowder?” Jetta asked. Mack noticed that their phones didn’t translate that.

“Omega? Any suggestions?” he asked.

“Miss Jetta’s idea is sound. There is sufficient goat manure to yield potassium nitrate. Charcoal is easily made and I have found a potential sulfur resource at a hot spring not too distant.”

“Should we be worried about introducing technology?” Mack said.

“Hey we’re talking about my right hand here,” Jetta said.

“We could always shoot them?” he suggested.

“And do what? Trudge to the neutral zone while escaping the rest of the inhabitants and avoiding those ogre things?” she said.

“What do you talk about so long?” Clacher asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“My pardon, Lord Clacher. We’re trying to figure out what’s possible with your level of technology,” Mack said. Clacher frowned and Mack spoke before he could take offense. “We think we have a pretty good option. We’ll need some supplies when daylight comes, as long as it’s safe to step outside the gates.”

“There will be no tricks, Smith, or your sister will pay the price,” Clacher said.

“Maybe you’re right—we should just shoot them,” Jetta said, frowning.

“We’ll keep that as an option.”

Eventually, after some additional threats, Clacher and his men left them alone for the night. About twenty minutes later, the door opened again, admitting Ari and Aylin with a wash basin, jug of water, and a single cloth towel of some woven fabric.

“You guys keep getting saddled with us, huh?” Mack asked.

Both mother and daughter looked puzzled by his words. “What do you mean? We are here to saddle you? You are not even big enough to ride?” Aylin asked, brow furrowed.

“My brother means that you keep getting assigned to bring us food and water and things,” Jetta said.

“Oh. Well, we are lowest caste. We would not be missed if you are as dangerous as the stories say,” Aylin explained matter-of-factly.

“Wow! Just when I think this place can’t suck any worse, it surprises me,” Jetta said.

“You mean the holders here think we might what? Kill the help?” Mack asked.

Aylin shrugged, but Ari looked fierce and her spots were back.

“That’s so cool. Why do you get spots when you’re all angry?” Jetta asked.

“My mother does not speak much. She was beaten as a girl for speaking,” Aylin said.

“Why? And why do they call you half-breeds?” Jetta asked.

“We are beastkin, Mother moreso than I,” the young girl said.

“What is beastkin?” Jetta asked.

“Descended from those who are sometimes people and sometimes… not,” Aylin said.

“So you both remind me of cats. Is your beast a cat? Are you like weres?” his sister asked.

“Mother’s grandfather was sometimes a cat,” Aylin said, looking excited. “You speak as if you know of beastkin.”

“Some of our friends are weres. Cats, wolves, and bears,” Jetta said.

“You truly know two-natured folk?” the girl asked, clearly shocked.

“Yeah. Hell, one of our group, the Speaker’s party, is a really kickass werewolf. Wait till you meet her,” Jetta said.

Aylin’s face fell. “We will never be allowed to meet anyone in the presence of a true Speaker.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone will be able to stop you from meeting Stacia. No, Declan is gonna be pissed when he gets here and this whole shithole will be lucky if he leaves any part of it standing,” Jetta said.

The girl looked at her mother who shrugged, her spots having faded during the conversation.

“We don’t understand any of what you speak of. Who is this Deg Land?”

“Declan. He’s only like the most powerful witch who ever lived… and he’s my brother’s roommate at college. Stacia, the werewolf girl, is his girlfriend. Dec is gonna rip a hole through reality and come get us.”

“The lord will never allow it,” Aylin said.

“You don’t understand. The queens of Fairie would have a hard time dealing with Declan. Clacher will be lucky if Dec doesn’t burn this place to the ground,” Jetta said.

“What is a witch?”

“You know, a magic user. Like Queen Morrigan and Queen Zinnia, only he doesn’t have a realm,” Jetta said.

Aylin looked like she didn’t believe them but was being careful not to offend.

“Why does Clacher treat you guys so poorly? Your herb lore skill must be of great value to the hold,” Mack asked.

Aylin exchanged a look with her mother. “I have been very careful not to demonstrate my skills. Otherwise he would use me like he is using you, by threatening Mother. That is why we argued before I made you the tea.”

“Does your mother, Ari, have the same skill?” Mack asked.

Shaking her head, Aylin answered. “She is very skilled at finding my herb and plant supplies, as she can smell many of them, but what I do just comes to me.”

“Well, you should totally come with us when we leave. You could make a fortune on Earth with your skills,” Jetta said.

Mack gave his sister a questioning look.

“What? You want to leave them to that creep, Clacher? No effing way!” she said.

He knew that stubborn look all too well. “Fine. Maybe Tanya could get them set up?” he suggested.

“Great idea,” Jetta said.

“We would serve another lord? On the old world?” Aylin asked.

“Not a lord. Better. She’s like the top businesswoman on our planet and she’s an uber-cool vampire princess,” Jetta said. “You wouldn’t serve her. You’d either work for her company or get your own company.”

Both Aylin and her mother looked thoroughly confused.

“See, having a business is like being your own lord. Your business sells the stuff you make and you and your mom get to keep the money,” Jetta explained.

“I don’t understand much of what you say, but we would go to the old world to escape this one. Anything would be better than Forpost. But how?”

“Just keep close to us and when Declan shows up, stay even closer.”

“How will we know your friend is here?” the younger girl asked.

“Oh, you’ll know. Trust me.”

The guards opened the door roughly and yelled something at the mother-daughter pair, words that Omega didn’t bother to translate. Both females resumed their subservient postures and left the room.

Early the next morning found Mack and his sister at the front gate of the keep. Kellan kept Jetta near him while Mack explored the goat fields guarded by a group of guards who kept watch for ogres. The massive monsters had seemingly fled, according to conversations he overheard between Kellan, Clacher, and the other guard members. The dead ogres had been dragged away into the forest for the scavengers to eat. “We burn our own dead but feed our enemies to the predators so that they develop a taste for our foes’ flesh,” Clacher had explained in a rare moment of consideration.

As Mack worked, Lady Iona followed him, watching him even closer than the guards.

Mack flipped dried goat patties over, pausing now and again to pick yellowish crystals up with a pair of micro tweezers that came from the handle of his Swiss Army knife and storing them in a hollow gourd.

“He picks through shit and expects me to believe he has value?” Lord Clacher commented to Jetta from fifty or sixty feet away.

“It’s called chemistry, Milord, and it’s an extremely powerful… craft on Earth,” Jetta said. She was sitting on a log near the gate, scraping the charcoal from the burnt ends of sticks and logs into a clay dish.

The goats were allowed to roam pretty much everywhere around the outside of the stockade during the daytime, a practice that had continued for decades. Mack easily found plenty of material to work with. After about an hour, he headed over and inspected Jetta’s results.

“Okay, Milord, we have two of the three things we need. The third is a bit more difficult to locate, but I may have seen some in our travels here,” Mack said. “We saw a hot spring not far from where we ended up saving your children.”

He was lying through his teeth, but Omega had supplied them with both the location of the hot springs and all the information they needed to purify the potassium nitrate crystals he had pulled from the goat scat.

Kellan spoke up after Mack’s phone finished translating his words in their dialect.

“Milord, he may be referring to the Dragon Mouth cave. It’s close to the rocky outcrop Lady Iona choose for her stand against the ground eagles and it produces smoke and steam.”

“What is the purpose of shit picking and digging through our fire pits? I warn you, if this is a scheme to escape, it will cost your sister more than her right hand,” Clacher said, mouth tight with annoyance.

“You seem impressed with our weapons. What I am creating is the compound that drives them. Your crossbows use a bent bow of horn and wood to drive your bolts. This compound I am creating drives the small metal projectiles, which are called bullets, from our rifles,” Mack said.

Clacher’s eyes narrowed. “You claimed you could not make your weapons here.”

“I can’t make those weapons at all. They require machines and supplies that don’t exist here. But the predecessors to those weapons are something I might be able to make. Plus this compound, which we call black powder or gunpowder, has many, many uses. What I am doing is making enough of it to show you some of those uses, mostly as weapons.”

Clacher thought about it, brow furrowed. “Your sister stays here.”

“That’s fine, Milord. Jetta will begin refining one of the components while I’m gone.”

“I will go and keep an eye on him too, Father,” Lady Iona announced.

Mack expected Clacher to refuse her but he just grunted and then nodded his approval.

The trip to the springs was made on horseback, but this time Mack got to sit upright. Since he had practically grown up on horseback, this was much more comfortable compared to his last ride.

Iona rode as close to him as she could, glancing his way every few minutes. He waited for the inevitable questions, nodding to himself when the first finally came.

“You can make a weapon from goat dung, burnt wood, and smelly hot water?” she finally asked.

“You can make thousands of things from the materials that make up our world. You just need knowledge to break them down to their rawest form and knowledge how to put them back together,” he said.

Kellan, who wore a frown anytime Iona paid too much attention to Mack, moved closer on Mack’s other side. It seemed clear to Mack that Kellan wanted to be Mr. Lady Iona and therefore the next lord of Forpost. While Iona, whose raw ambition shone on her face, wanted to move her family’s keep up in standing against the richer holds. Mack’s knowledge was the obvious key, although Kellan was acting like he was seeing Mack as competition.

Mack turned to Kellan. “Do you have any siege engines? Catapults?”

The big sergeant just looked at him blankly. Iona spoke from his other side.

“Oh, you mean rock throwers. We have a couple of small ones, but nothing like Demyne has,” she said, looking to Kellan. “Right?”

Kellan frowned, but it was a thinking kind of frown. He slowly nodded, holding up his hands together like he was gripping a grapefruit-sized object.

“Oh. How far can you throw a rock that size?” Mack asked.

“Mayhaps three hundred cubits,” the big sergeant said, looking slightly defensive. “Aim is poor at that range.”

“That translates to about roughly six hundred feet,” Omega said, which saved Mack from asking the AI for a conversion.

“That’s actually pretty good. Aim isn’t as important when you’re working with that minute of a bomb,” Mack said. “Horseshoes and hand grenades.”

Both Iona and Kellan looked at him, perhaps waiting for an explanation. Mack just smiled.

Chapter 22

Chris

Rome, Italy

“Hey,” said a voice inside the small chapel of Senka’s Roman castle. My senses had just told me that room was empty as I passed it by, but the voice was instantly familiar. I stopped, backed up, and stepped inside.

Barbiel stood looking at an ancient mural that had been there for perhaps hundreds of years. It was too faded to make out, but Senka had left all the original artwork in place when she bought the joint.

“I remember when they painted this,” Barbiel said.

“What’s up?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. I don’t need much sleep but what little I did had been taken by greedy babies who only slept when I couldn’t.

“The God Hammer as a dad,” my angel case officer said, smiling. “Not something any other angel can say.”

“Except Tanya,” I protested.

“As a dad? Wow, you do need sleep,” he said. “Listen, I wanted to catch you.”

“And?” I asked.

He smiled in a pained way. He looked… frustrated.

“Shit. I have to guess, don’t I? You can’t just tell me outright, can you?” I asked.

His smile turned sheepish as he nodded.

“That sun is blazing hot today, isn’t it?” he asked.

Okay, so he wasn’t making small talk. Sun—blaze—hot. “Fire? We need to talk about fire?” I asked.

“Now that you mention it, fire does do a good job on the infected, doesn’t it? Some fires are better than others,” he said.

Better fire? My head started to hurt. I needed another breakfast and more coffee.

“Let’s see. Flame throwers work but are too splashy. Omega’s drones have those particle weapons now, which seem better than the first iteration’s lasers. But the witches are the best. They burn that shit right up,” I said. “Nothing is better… well, except maybe that thing I do sometimes… oh. You want to talk about my… what? Angel fire?”

He touched his finger to his nose.

“What about it? I can’t even do it on command,” I said. “It just happens.”

“Happens when?” he asked, egging me on.

“I don’t know, Barbiel. I guess when I get really—concerned?” I guessed.

“Concerned? For others? Which might be called protective?” he asked, clearly leading me on.

“Okay, so you’re telling me I can burn these things if I’m what? Scared for one of my own?”

He touched his nose again. “It’s interesting that you bring up Angel fire. Did you know that an active angel like me can only use it if I’m preauthorized by the, eh, Big Guy? But it’s unlimited when it’s cleared. Now if, say, an angel fell to Earth and gained free will, they would be able to use it on their own. But, of course, it would be limited.”

“Limited how?” I asked.

“In quantity. Lifetime quantity. It can be used up,” he said.

“So I can run out? I’ve already used some up?” I asked.

“Like over half,” he said. “You went a bit nuts with it back under Atlantic Avenue a few years back. You might want to use it sparingly.”

“What about my sword? Will that run out too?” I asked.

“No, never. As long as there are demons, your sword is there. But it’s only good for demons. You can’t use it against other children of God.”

“I used it with the fire elemental so it wouldn’t burn up Vegas,” I said.

He held one hand palm down and waggled it. “Eh, you blocked yourself from lava directed at you by an elemental that fits many of the criteria for celestial being. These others are not remotely like that and so your sword won’t activate for you.”

“Barbiel, I’m really tired. Let’s see if I can summarize. My Angel fire is not only exhaustible, but already more than half gone and my sword won’t work.”

“Correct, and don’t forget that you now know that your trigger for your Holy Flame is your own need to protect others,” he said, beaming. I don’t think he was happy at actual restraints and conditions, but more that he had conveyed everything he felt he needed to without getting in trouble over his Angelic rules.

“Is there any good news in all of this?” I asked.

He frowned, taken a little aback. “Well, you still have your aural weapons. But I’m afraid you’ll need to be like your fellows and develop whatever other tools and weapons you think will help. Your primary mission here has always been demons. This enemy is not for you alone. Use others; let others fight. This one is a battle between the natives of earth, in all their forms, and invaders who want either eradication or enslavement.”

“Chris!” Lydia called from down the hall. I turned toward her voice, then back. He was gone. “Oh there you are,” Lydia said, poking her head into the chapel. “Communing with God?”

“Just getting my facts straight,” I said. “What’s up?”

She frowned at my words but delivered her message. “Your much better half wants you at the command center. Something’s up with China.”

We both Moved, speeding to the big open room that was lately festooned with cables, monitors, computer towers, tables, chairs, and the other furnishings of the modern war room.

Tanya glanced at me as we came in, but she was talking via satellite with the same group of world leaders as before, General Liu being the one on the central monitor. Nika, Senka, Chet Aikens, Arkady, Deckert, and various young witches stood or sat in the background.

My personal link to her told me Tanya was stewing about something.

“What’s your best estimate, General?” she asked, a twitch of her fingers beckoning me to her side.

“Our most recent census figures, which are admittedly out of date, place the first village’s population at a little over one thousand, fifty people. Add to that the missing squad of nine soldiers. The second village, in the north, was smaller, somewhere in the vicinity of nine hundred inhabitants, plus a second mechanized squad,” Liu said.

Tanya turned to me. “They’ve been sending military units to check some of the sites Omega listed. In two of those areas, the squads reported infected before command lost contact with them. We’re presuming total infection. One village is in the southeast and the other in the northern part of the country.”

“Any satellite coverage?” I asked.

“I have re-tasked a Jilin Low Earth Orbit imaging satellite which is due to fly over the southern village in eight minutes and seventeen seconds,” Omega said.

Liu looked pained. “It takes our space assets at will,” he said.

“It is much more efficient for me to control the satellites than you, General,” Omega replied.

“In the meantime, the general sent Air Force fighters over both villages to take some recon photos,” my vampire said in her let’s-get-back-on-track voice.

On cue, a screen opened showing side-by-side, high-altitude videos of two very small, very remote clusters of buildings. There wasn’t any real activity to see, although a few large vehicles were visible. “Are those military trucks?” I asked.

“Yes. They are not parked according to doctrine,” Liu said.

“What’s our plan?” I asked.

Silence greeted my question, the tight expressions on several faces, including Tanya’s, indicating some tension.

“We will handle it,” General Liu said. He didn’t elaborate.

“The Chinese government has decided to bomb both villages before sending in special forces for cleanup,” Omega said.

“Not going to search for survivors?” I asked. “How about witch support to make sure you track down all infectious entities?”

“As you all pointed out, we have our own resources. This is an internal matter,” Liu said.

“Let’s see—over one billion Chinese citizens vulnerable for infection. Sounds like something the whole world has an interest in,” I said.

“We will handle it ourselves, Mr. Gordon. Your input is nether required nor wanted,” Liu said stiffly.

“I will be monitoring, Chris. Should they fail due to a stubborn and ill-advised nationalistic pride, I will intercede,” Omega said.

“And do what?” the Russian president asked.

“Whatever is necessary, Mr. President, to sterilize the biological hazards,” Omega said.

No one said a word, but the exchanged glances were telling. Our own group shot looks around Senka’s command room.

“That sounds ominous,” I said.

“Ominous is allowing a biological weapon of this caliber to gain a foothold on this planet and not using every available resource to track, neutralize, and sterilize it. My drones on the TRAPPIST planet have resumed searching after a requisite recharge period. The planet is almost devoid of animal life and very low in plant life. It is likely that most of that world’s biological matter has been appropriated for either conversion to weaponized forms or as fuel for said weapons. I will not allow that to happen here,” Omega said with a clear note of finality.

“Are you speaking of the nuclear weapons you control?” President Polner asked from the White House feed.

“Would that not be an option for any of you to consider under these circumstances?” Omega said. “Although I will use all of my resources to combat this danger. Your stockpiles of weapons are just one resource.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Secretary General Bakshi asked.

“It likely means that Omega solves problems by looking at all answers at the same time. We tend to focus on specific pieces or parts of the puzzle, but he doesn’t. Right now, we’re all focused on nukes. He might decide crashing a small asteroid into the region is better, or redirecting your own troops in more efficient patterns are better solutions,” I said.

“Always with the asteroids,” Tanya muttered to my left. “Chris is right. We need to listen to Omega’s solutions.”

“Or is it the computer’s chance to wipe us all out?’ Liu said.

“It already would have happened,” I said.

“Chris is correct. My decision-making process is very, very fast and not burdened by emotional constraints. There is an argument that removing the human species would remove the enemy’s ability to make you into weapons. I rejected that one immediately. You are part of this world and while I might choose to intervene when you all are bent on self-destruction, I do not see any value in removing you myself.”

“Plus your dad would be mad,” I said, mouth running out of control.

“That is very likely, Chris.”

“How is your father, Omega?” Tanya asked.

“Is this necessary,” General Liu asked. “We are discussing bigger things.”

“My father is almost ready, in both my opinion and his, to attempt a gate to the missing members of his party. Once they are safe, he intends to return the entire group back to Earth. The addition of his abilities, which have changed during his sojourn, have a definite positive effect on our probability of success in this struggle.”

“Keep us informed, would you?” I asked.

“Of course. Now, General, I have some suggestions that will increase the likelihood of your military actions achieving complete annihilation of the infection. Will you listen?”

“Do I have a choice?” Liu asked, his aloof reserve broken.

“No!” chorused from all our throats.

Chapter 23

Forpost, Fairie

The next morning found them again just outside the gate, although this time Mack was standing alone in a broad open space—just him, a scarecrow made of two sticks, a rotten piece of old cloth, and a broken squash-like vegetable stuck on top of the upright stick. And a small, tightly bound cylinder—with a fuse.

The bundle was lashed to the squash or gourd or whatever it was, with some twine—he wanted the demonstration to be dramatic. Carefully, he used a disposable lighter from his kit to light the twine fuse that he had soaked in potassium nitrate and dried overnight.

Then he turned and moved with haste, getting back forty feet till he was just in front of the others. Turning, he was in time to see the glow of the fuse disappear into the body of the bomb.

The resulting boom was satisfying, and a pelting rain of squash parts sprayed down among his group of watchers.

“That was a very small charge, Milord, as I could only gather a small amount of the nitrates I needed from the goat dung. It was just to show you the potential,” Mack said.

Clacher, his daughter, and all the guards were looking at the now-headless scarecrow, clearly astonished. The lord’s head swiveled to Mack. “How would you get more?”

“We harvested plenty of sulfur, and charcoal is easy. But the main component is the potassium nitrate, which requires a bit of a process to manufacture. The good news is we’ll make it from goat dung, which you have a ton of. The bad news is that is takes some time to process,” Mack said.

“That and the smell,” Jetta added.

“What would be the result of a device as big as the rocks our engines throw?” Clacher asked.

“That’s ten or twenty times more gunpowder than the small amount we just used. You would have a real explosion. Add shrapnel to the casing and you would have a kill radius of ten or twelve feet, easy,” he said, moving back toward the now-headless scarecrow. The others followed him, most with a bit of wary caution.

“You are saying that enemies would die for six cubits in all directions?” Sergeant Kellan asked, showing extreme interest in something for the first time since Mack had met him.

“Yes, give or take. We call them bombs or grenades,” Mack said.

“What is this word? Shaaa rap en nel?” Iona asked.

“Shrapnel is small pieces of metal, wood, or ceramics that break apart when the bomb explodes, spraying out around the bomb. They move at very high speeds, much like our bullets, and wound or kill people nearby,” Jetta said.

Clacher, Iona, and the sergeant all looked her with rapt attention. “Do you know how to make these bobs as well?” Iona asked her.

“Bombs. Yes. Mack is the metalsmith in the family, but we both do well with explosives,” Jetta said after a quick glance to see Mack nod.

He wanted them to value his sister as much as him. They needed time to let Declan get to them.

The sound of hoofs on hard ground brought them all around to look at the southern line of trees just in time to see a man on a horse burst out of the woods. He wore the dark brown uniform of the Forpost guards and he veered toward them as soon as he saw them.

“Milord, Milord!” he called as he closed the distance rapidly. “Riders approach from the south. They wear the colors of Demyne,” he yelled.

“How many, Carter?” Clacher demanded.

“Three score or more, Milord,” Carter reported, trying to catch his breath.

“Back to the hold. Call in the watchers. Arm your men, Sergeant,” Clacher said.

Jetta and Mack found themselves swiftly herded inside the gates, up the ladder, and pushed out onto the parapet as the keep exploded into activity. Weapons appeared as fast as the night before and a loud horn blared over the sudden noise of Forpost preparing for danger.

“I thought you traded with Demyne?” Jetta asked Iona, who stayed near them after sending one of the guards on an errand.

“We do. Under a flag of peace on lands between ours and theirs. For them to approach with men-at-arms in such numbers is never good,” the girl replied.

The guard Iona had sent away came jogging back, his arms loaded as were the arms of the two servant women who scurried in his wake.

Mack recognized their gear and weapons a split second before he realized the two women were Ari and Aylin. The guard most likely drafted them, as they had taken to hanging near the Sutton kids’ quarters.

Iona directed the disposition of the gear into piles close by but far enough away that Mack and Jetta would have to deal with their guards to get their hands on any of their weapons. She quickly and accurately sorted the equipment into a pile of Mack’s stuff and one of Jetta’s. Someone had been paying very close attention to them.

When it was all arranged to her satisfaction, Lady Iona turned and flashed a fierce grin at them both. “Demyne has never seen the likes of you,” she said.

A shout turned them back to see men in Forpost brown leave the forest to race for the gates, some on horseback and some on foot.

Mere moments later, another set of horsemen burst from the woods, clearly chasing the locals. The new horsemen wore copper-colored leather that was covered with overlapping rings of bronze. These warriors were heavily armed with a range of weapons that exceeded the typical gear of a Forpost guard. Kellan’s men usually had spears or bows and each carried a heavy seax knife that was long enough to really double as a short sword.

The newcomers had full-length broadswords, which, while not as long as Clacher’s repaired Claymore, still gave them a decided advantage in reach. Additionally, they were each equipped with a small round shield, several javelins, and a long spear apiece.

There was also a mix of bronze axes, knives, bows, and crossbows, the latter two in enough numbers to make Mack realize just how undergunned Clacher’s men really were.

The last of the Forpost runners made it into the fort and the ropes that held the heavy overhead pivoting gate were cut, allowing the timbered barrier to slam down. It no sooner smashed into place when a team of guards manhandled a log beam into brackets, barring it shut.

The fore riders of the Demyne group swung back around and took up positions just out of easy bow range, as more men continued to pour out of the forest. After the first twenty were lined up between the tree line and the fort, a smaller group of five came out, two in armor, two in cloaks of black, and one in standard copper-colored ring armor but bearing a flag on a pole. They had the bearing of leaders, especially the two in armor, and their little group was almost immediately followed by at least forty or fifty more men. The flag showed a crossed pick and shovel on a copper background.

The two obvious leaders in the smaller group of four stood out because their leathers were covered with actual plates of bronze armor, not just rings. There was also the matter of their swords—the hilts looked to be made of steel, not bronze.

Mack studied them some more, finally deciding that they were likely related. Both around about six feet in height and both carried a similar, powerful build. Same brown hair poking out from under matching bronze helmets, although the one on the left had streaks of gray running through his, which became more obvious when he took off his helmet, holding it under one arm. After a second, the younger one followed suit and now Mack was sure they were father and son.

“Hello Forpost. No need for all this, Digby,” the older yelled. “We’ve come for the boy and girl.”

“And just what boy and girl are ya talking about, Harlan?” Clacher yelled from the palisade.

“None of your games, Digby. You know well enough that which I speak of. The boy with smithing skills and his sister. We know they landed here. We heard of your sword,” Harlan yelled back.

Clacher pulled his claymore from its sheath and held it over his head. “Ya mean this sword?” he asked, waving it about.

Smooth work, asshole, Mack thought. Way to hide the obvious. And Digby? Digby? Never saw that coming.

“Aye, so ya admit ya have the lad, as the proof is flailing about your head, like to cut your ear off. The two were supposed to be at Demyne, not Forpost. So hand ‘em over and we’ll be on our way,” Harlan said.

Mack glanced at his sister and found her raising one eyebrow back at him. Supposed to be at this Demyne place? And just who arranged that? And what went wrong?

“I don’t know what yer blathering on about, Harlan Norton. They appeared in our woods, on our property. Just what’s this to do with Demyne?” Clacher said.

Harlan turned and looked back at the two cloaked figures. After a moment, both sat up straight and reached to their hoods. As the dark cloth fell from their heads, short white-blond hair stood in sudden and sharp contrast to the dark hair all around them.

Mack could just barely make out the tips of their sharp ears, protruding just a bit from their hair. Elves. Elves of the Winter Court.

“Lord Clacher, Queen Morrigan sends her regards. Lord Norton is correct. The siblings were intended to arrive in Demyne. An error occurred with the portal that sent them here,” one of the elves said with a clear, powerful voice. “I am Peadar and my companion is Odhran. We are, as you can see, Guardians of the Winter Court and as such, our word is law in this realm.”

Clacher looked badly shaken but his face was tight and there was a defiant gleam to his eye.

“They say they are members of the Speaker’s party, yet you say they are subject to our Queen’s rule?” Iona suddenly said, her father turning to her with an angry hiss to keep quiet.

The elf tilted his head, studying the young lady of the keep. “In this Realm, all are subject to her will,” he said.

“Even the Dragons?” Iona asked.

The self-assured Guardian paused, pulling back a bit to consider her words. “A dragon would be a different matter. They are not dragons, Milady.”

“Yet they are members of the Speaker’s party, and would not the Speaker to the Dragons be accorded a similar status as an actual dragon?” Iona argued.

“The Speaker, herself, might well be treated in a somewhat similar manner to those she represents. These two are not the Speaker, but merely companions and perhaps guards, albeit pretty poor ones.”

A short scuffle broke out next to him and when Mack looked over, Jetta’s guard was on the ground and his sister was grabbing her rifle from the gear pile, swinging it up in a single smooth motion. Oh shit was all he had time to think before the rifle roared.

He snapped his head around in time to see the Demyne flag disappear as the pole six inches under it exploded into splinters.

Kellan swore and started to pull his blade but suddenly found himself staring down the big, gaping barrel of Mack’s .44 Bulldog, which had somehow found its way into his hand.

“Poor ones my ass, you stupid lying sack of goblin shit!” Jetta yelled. “Back stabbing, treacherous assholes!”

The guards around them shifted weapons but Mack was already in motion, backhanding his own guard with the steel revolver before jumping over and snatching his rifle from the pile. Jetta, who had cycled her bolt as soon as she fired, was aiming her rifle for Clacher, which made every guard pause. Mack took the opportunity to slide his vest on and buckle his pistol belt into place before swinging his own muzzle to cover the lord of the keep. Jetta slipped her chest rig over her head, slinging her rifle in favor of her Glock pistol with an extended magazine.

“Do you require assistance, Lord Clacher?” the lead elf, Peadar, asked, looking mildly amused.

Mack felt a buzzing in his pocket and his sister’s phone must have gone off as well, as she suddenly touched her own cargo pocket. Jetta pulled her phone out, looked at the screen, and then back at him. “Finally!” she said.

“Just what are ya thinking, Smith?” Clacher snarled. “Sure, you can kill a great deal of us, but not all of us. Ya have no chance of getting out of this.”

Mack opened his mouth to speak but Kellan jumped for him, one big hand grabbing at the stock of Mack’s rifle while his blade stabbed for Mack’s chest. Forced to use his rifle stock to block the blade, Mack let go with his right hand, groping at his gear for his Glock. He was incredibly aware that death was facing him here and now. All the early mornings at Arcane, training under Mr. Jenks, all those hours and bruises were for this one single moment. And he was fighting someone with many more hours of practice under his belt.

He could hear Jetta behind him and knew he was blocking her shot. Kellan was too close and too fast. Mack’s hand touched something on his belt and he pulled it free. It was his tomahawk, the carbon steel blade pulling free from its Kydex sheath.

Jenks had brought many instructors in to train the Arcane kids in various fighting styles, but one of the repeat trainers was a man they only knew as Sifu Chris, who taught them something he called the Hammer System. Based on a Kali edged weapons combat style, it was designed to use a hammer or any hammer-shaped object as an improvised weapon.

The Arcane kids had started with hammers and then moved to ‘hawks, and Mack had more hours with this system than any other.

His right hand shoved cross body, the shaft of his tomahawk pushing Kellan’s blade out and away. Almost instantly, his left hand dropped the rifle and rotated into a circular block of Kellan’s knife arm, just at the wrist, making room for his ‘hawk to come around in a circular chop that smashed the leather bracer on the big man’s arm with thousands of pounds of force.

The leather stopped the hawk from biting deep, but the blunt force impact was enough to make Kellan’s hand spasm and the knife drop free. Kellan’s left hand snatched the falling knife as the big sergeant pulled back and dropped into a fighting stance that highlighted his comfort with either hand. He flashed a fierce, nasty smile at Mack.

The added space between them gave Mack the opportunity to step right, crouch, and cover his left ear. He felt his sister take a single step forward and then her Glock went off three times fast and Kellan’s face disappeared in a mist of blood and gore.

Sergeant Kellan dropped dead like a sack of bricks and Jetta Sutton pivoted and shot the next oncoming guard twice in the chest and once in the head, dropping that one as well.

Everything stopped as Kellan and the guard both fell off the palisade, bodies collapsing into boneless heaps.

The gunshots rang out across the clearing, then everything went quiet, all motion frozen as the dark smoking barrel of Jetta’s pistol steadied on Clacher.

Mack reached down and grabbed his fallen rifle, suddenly noticing a sting that became a searing pain in his left arm. A long line of red ran across his forearm, clearly indicating his block hadn’t been without cost.

Jenks always told them to expect to get cut if blades were swinging. It was inevitable and you had to steel yourself against the pain or you’d get more than just cut.

“You okay?” Jetta asked.

“Just a scratch,” he said.

“What now, Mr. Sutton?” the elf, Peadar, asked in English.

Jetta answered. “Now we wait,” she said.

“Wait for what?” the elf asked, still very self-assured.

Reality tore down the middle—right there in the center of the road—right in front of the sixty or so horsemen.

There was no mirror rippling, no smooth rectangle of glass, no clean portal, but an ugly, jagged tear in the fabric of existence. Six feet of crooked line that shone white—first just inches across at the bottom and top, but spreading to three feet wide at the middle.

Four blurs came streaking through, each moving so fast that they were unidentifiable, howling through the air at incredible speed. Then a blonde girl with some kind of short gun stepped through, followed by a man in combat gear, a black-haired girl, and finally a tall, lanky young man with blue eyes and a fierce grin.

The fast-moving objects whistled around the entire acre of cleared ground, then came to sudden, complete stops, hovering in place. They were steel balls, gray and either streaked with silver lines or, in one case, spotted with silver.

“Hey Mack! Jetta! Where the hell are you?” Declan yelled as the rip in space closed behind him, zipping itself shut, top down and bottom up.

The Demyne party, whose horses had shied at the tear in reality, pranced forward, then stopped as if they had hit a wall. One horse’s nose even flattened like it was pressed on a window.

“Speaker,” Peadar said, looking shocked and a bit pained. “You should not be here.”

Mack yelled out before Ashley had time to answer the elf. “We’re in here.”

“It appears we should, as those are our companions inside that structure,” Ashley said.

Stacia was sniffing the air and her head whipped around to stare where Mack’s voice had come from.

She sniffed again, then growled—a clear, wolfish growl that made the closest horses stamp back. “He’s wounded,” she said in a deep, deep voice. Then she dropped her stubby shotgun and bolted for the fort, her yellow and black dragon skins bursting from her body as she Changed between one step and the next. She gained three times her own mass in a split second, tan skin covering over with white fur as her body lengthened out to over seven feet of lean, predatory power.

She was a perfect fighting blend of woman and wolf, bounding on all fours, clearing the hundred yards to the wall in two jumps, a third leap putting her at the top of the log parapet, where she paused for the merest fraction of time before she was suddenly standing on the catwalk, between the Sutton kids and Clacher’s men. And she was clearly really angry, massive toothy jaws open, lips pulled back, growl shaking the timbers.

One guard flinched away, but a second, braver one stepped forward and stabbed with his bronze-tipped spear. The sharp tip merely skated over her thick fur and tough skin. The guard had a moment to blanch, then he was hauled close by his own spear and an irresistible backhand broke his neck and flung his instantly dead body off the catwalk.

Lady Iona screamed and stumbled back toward the stairs, leaving Ari and Aylin alone behind the huge wolfish killer. Stacia’s head snapped around and she growled at the mother-daughter pair, stalking one step toward them.

“No!” Jetta yelled, rushing fearlessly past the werewolf to place herself between the girl and her mother. “They’re with us,” she said, face-to-muzzle with death.

Stacia pulled back, looked at Jetta, then glanced at Mack, her yellow wolf eyes locked on his wounded forearm.

“I should probably wrap this up, huh?” he said.

Stacia chuffed, pulled back as if affronted, then turned back to the unmoving guards who had clustered around their lord.

“How’s it going in there?” Declan yelled, like he was asking for their Starbucks orders.

Mack glanced over the wall to see his buddy standing facing the sixty or seventy sword, spear, and bow wielding men, looking pretty relaxed, his four orbs of death hovering over his head. Ian looked a little grim, alternating his glances between the Demyne men and the fort. Ashley just stood with Declan, staring down the two elves.

“We could use an exit,” Mack shouted back.

Declan flicked one hand where it hung by his leg, never even looking Mack’s way. All four orbs instantly rocketed at the base of the heavy wooden gate and its two support posts.

Mack heard the sharp cracks as the mini cannon balls blasted through the tree-trunk-sized logs like they were cardboard. Wow, he thought. He really does have more power here.

Splinters of wood, some as long as a foot, spalled across the fort’s interior, some sticking in the ground, a few sticking into the unfortunate guards standing near the log that barred the gate.

The orbs froze in space, ten feet inside the fort, six inches off the ground. Then they shot back, hitting the gate logs again, blasting more splinters to the outside of the fort. This time, the steel balls kept going, flying back to Declan and taking up station above and slightly behind him.

Declan glanced at the gate, then flicked his left hand and Mack instantly heard a thunderous, continuous crack that lasted at least three seconds. The gate, the log barring it, and the whole frame of logs around it fell forward, all of the tree trunks snapping off at their damaged bases. The whole unit boomed as it hit the ground, bouncing a little on impact. It settled for a second, then every fallen timber lifted up, level to the ground. Climbing six, nine, fifteen full feet straight up, each sharpened log parallel to the hard-packed earth, sharpened points aimed right at the Demyne troops.

Every eye on the open killing ground looked up at the massive gate structure that now hovered over Declan’s head, waiting on his next whim.

Lord Norton and his son both gawked at the massive pointed logs staring them in the face, their men all frozen with terrified expressions. The two elves even looked impressed, although they held their positions.

“Lady Speaker, this is the Winter Realm. Her majesty knows you are on her ground and I would guess she will be here at any moment,” the lead elf said, clearly fighting to keep his eyes on her and not the floating gate.

“That will be fine, Guardian. Then perhaps she could explain her part in the abduction of my companions,” Ashley said. Her father was trying not to look up at the tons of wood overhead, his head swiveling between fort and fighters as if on a pivot.

Inside the fort, Mack and his sister climbed down the unbroken stairs on their side of the now-incomplete front wall, herding Ari and Aylin ahead of them. Stacia waited till they were down and in the shattered opening that used to be a gate before she simply stepped off the parapet catwalk and landed lightly on massive backward-bending legs. The mother and daughter servants couldn’t take their eyes off the giant white werewolf.

“You have a ride outta here?” Mack asked as his party moved out of the fort and toward the rest of their friends.

“Once we’re ready, I’ll rip another portal open,” Declan said. Mack got a good look at his friend and did a double take. Declan looked like shit. He had dark circles under his eyes and his cheekbones seemed sharper, like he’d lost a little weight.

“Is that tiring?” Mack asked, keeping his voice down as they got closer to the other three. Declan glanced at him, confused at the question until Mack pointed up at the log truck load hovering overhead.

“Oh, no. Not really. Lots of free power here. Ripping portals though, that can take it out of you,” he said, conversationally. “But if we’re all here…”

“You’ll go nowhere! Nowhere, without my leave,” a feminine voice said. At the tree line to their left, Queen Morrigan stood in a light, silver-white dress, her massive Bigfoot-troll bodyguard standing to one side, her deadly daughter on the other.

Chapter 24

Chris

China, Earth

They bolluxed it all up. That’s not to say that any other military wouldn’t have as well. We were the only ones who had really faced this enemy, so it wasn’t truly a surprise when we got word that some of the infected had escaped one of the two villages.

The Chinese Air Force had bombed the hell out of both locations, but they were either slightly less complete in their destruction of one village, or the infected had already begun to spread out on their own. Either way, the southern village was not sterilized in time.

Two more villages fell, one to the east and the other even further south. And still the Chinese struggled to contain it themselves. And their witches were new to this game, whereas ours had experience tracking the alien flesh through woods and sewers, neighborhoods and buildings.

But then an unarmed Chinese DF-21C medium range ballistic missile activated itself and launched, all on its own from a supposedly isolated, completely manual ground transport launcher, and well, let’s just say the Chinese authorities had a change of heart about inviting us to help. It didn’t hurt that the missile had guided itself right into the one standing structure left in the southern village. There were no explosives on it, yet the kinetic energy was enough to put on a pretty impressive display.

Welcome to the new reality. Omega’s world. Message sent, message received.

So we found ourselves deep in the forests of the southern province of Fujian, north of the city of Quanzhou, a port city of over eight million citizens. No pressure. Just eight million potential new weapons for the enemy, oh yeah, that happen to live in a port that ships all over the world.

We brought the A team, all thirty-one currently healthy witches as well as Senka, Lydia, Arkady, Nika, Awasos, Tanya, and myself. Plus an even two dozen of our own highly experienced, sharply skilled, ex-military security guys, all of whom were human.

We ran teams twenty-four hours a day, tracking and burning multiple, horrifyingly mobile, legs, arms, heads, and even full bodies through the dense vegetation. Omega supplied hundreds of drones, his forces increasing at what would have been a terrifying rate if not for the vital support they provided. Every unknown, hostile stretch of jungle or potential death trap was first investigated by his flying and crawling arsenal of robots, many of which paid the ultimate price. The deadly morphing diamond-armored zombies could and would pound a drone into scrap metal.

In fact, the enemy was changing rapidly, becoming more aggressive, more insidious all the time. Small, fast-charging targets joined the human-sized killing machines, proving very hard to stop with any conventional means. Mostly they tried to avoid us, tried to exfiltrate around us, always heading south, toward the city.

The witches worked in teams of four. Two to stop attackers with telekinesis, one to burn the enemy, and an Air witch to fan the flames. Erika Boklund developed a little woman-made tornado that not only burned the zomboids faster but kept them in place while doing so. The truly shocking part was that she quickly taught the other Air witches how to do it without a single complaint or selfish comment.

The massive Chinese military created a cordon of soldiers around the infected areas, actually using two lines of men. The first line defended the open killing zones that had been bulldozed around the villages. The second line of soldiers backed up the first, but also kept the front line from either deserting or, if they became infected, the backups would burn them where they stood. It only happened a few times but it was a major downer for morale.

Our groups just kept working, and our witches threw themselves into the battle with as much courage as the veteran soldiers on our team. Mostly it went well, but we did lose two witches. Both became infected and both had to be killed. I handled one and Tanya, on the night shift, put the other one down. The witches all knew ahead of time, all had been warned this might happen, and all still volunteered. But it was awful. Two young girls, students in the school we’d created, fighting for humanity and we’d had to stop them and burn them.

Oddly it was the little Irish witch, Ryanne, who put it in perspective. She hadn’t been back to Arcane, but when some of the others had texted her, she’d shown up in Italy while we were still prepping for travel.

I had just come back from basically killing and incinerating her fellow witch and was standing in our camp-slash-headquarters, telling the girls what I had done.

“Ye kin not be blaming yerself, Mr. Chris. That girl was dead the moment the wee nano things got themselves into her skin. By the time she turned to attack her mates, she was long, long gone,” the pretty witch said. Around her, the other witches mostly nodded although a few just sobbed.

But ultimately her message was on point: If you got infected, you died, even if your body still moved, because it was directed by an alien will.

If anything, the death of the two witches, whose names were Mariah and Kristen, made the witches harder and more determined than ever. It served to give them a ferocious resolve, one they needed when the really big zombies showed up.

Most of the infected tried to sneak by our patrols, something that didn’t work when a skilled witch was using her craft to track them. These zombies were all villagers, recently infected, still morphing into true horrors. Sometimes it was a part of a villager, something that used to be a body part but had grown its own appendages, sensors, and mouthparts. But the ruthless efficiency the girls displayed rapidly reduced the numbers of sneaking enemy to a mere trickle. That’s about when the enemy’s reserve came into the picture.

It happened on my watch, the day shift. Seven hours into our sweeps, Ryanne, who had detection duty, got a hit on her spidy senses. Each witch had their own method of tracking, with some creating pendulums, others infusing a wood or bone dousing rod with an attraction for the aliens’ flesh, while still others used the game spinner approach. Ryanne, who was a musician, used music—or rather, sound. A tuning fork she somehow linked to her spell that would change tone as she swung it in an arc in front of her. My inhuman hearing let me listen in from twenty yards in front of her, the fork’s tune changing as its signal strengthened and weakened.

With the visual trackers, I had to be next to or behind the witch using it, but Ryanne’s trick put me out into the danger zone, rather than her. Good thing or we would have lost a valuable witch right then, right there.

The first indication of trouble was the tone deepening beyond the normal alert tone that announced that a zomboid was near. It was followed by a rush of black and then I found myself flying through the air to land fifteen feet in front of my witch squad. All four, Erika, Tami, Ryanne, and an Earth witch named Michelle, reacted instinctively with a combined burst of telekinetic power that threw the rushing alien back forty feet.

I flipped back onto my feet as the thing rolled to a stop, instantly attacking again. Seven and a half feet tall, it was humanoid but sexless, its body covered in tiny black facets that flexed and stretched with every movement. Like an NBA center wearing gem-fabricated chain mail.

It had no hair and its eyes were black like a shark’s and it moved almost as fast as I did. This time, instead of coming straight at me, it covered half the distance to me in an eye blink before it suddenly shot off to my right, ignoring the massed fire of our security guys and killing three of them with three blows of its arms. Cut them right in half. Kinda like I could, but instead of aura edges, its arms had a single diamond-hard edge running from the side of the little finger of each hand all the way to the elbow and just slightly beyond, where a little point formed.

I caught up to it as it killed a twenty-seven-year-old ex-soldier named Colby, my aura-infused fist smashing into its back.

Ignoring the blow, it spun and backhanded me, knocking me down a second time although I kept myself Posted. The thing was big, at least as strong as I was, and fast. I was faster, but its armor made it both a living weapon and almost invulnerable.

So I didn’t waste a lot of time punching or chopping at it. My experience so far showed me that was not super effective with the regular-sized ones and this one was at least a quarter again larger. Just a complete waste of energy.

Instead, I sidestepped at the last moment, swinging around to take its back, jiujitsu style, wrapping my arms around it. The diamond-hard skin instantly started to shred my flesh while the thing demonstrated the use of its elbow points by jabbing them into me. I was healing almost as fast as it injured me, but that used energy and reserves at an incredible rate and I wasn’t even harming it.

New tactic. I Posted to the ground, Clung to its back with both palms, and body slammed it down.

“Burn it,” I said to Tami as it got up and I slammed it down again. She focused and I could feel the heat build up inside it. Apparently so could it because it freaked out and tore away from me, leaving me with a patch of black armor on each hand.

“Burn those,” I said, tossing the skin, which was already changing into some more mobile form, to the ground. Tami refocused and the skin things burst into flame as I ran after the giant parent organism. It was headed for more of my guys and I wasn’t gonna let any more die. Just as I caught up, the thing spun around and rocked my world with a rock-hard punch that broke bones. I actually heard my clavicle snap, but felt no pain as the V-squared virus crushed my pain receptors and instantly started to repair the damage.

I blocked the second, third, and fifth blows, the fourth getting through to smash into the left side of my rib cage.

My own left hand Pulled at the vest of the closest security dude while I jammed my right, aura-sharpened spear hand deep into its side, finally punching through the armor.

The object I yanked to me was a grenade of sorts and I wasted no time in pulling my right hand out, shoving the grenade in, and yanking the pin as I pulled out a second time.

The armor sealed over while I ducked a sixth blow and kicked it hard in its stomach region. The heavy thing only moved six feet, but then it froze as a sharp whump resonated from its core. Nothing happened for a second and it actually took a step forward before stopping in place, seemingly confused, a wisp of steam coming out of its tiny O-shaped mouth.

“What kind of grenade was that?” I asked the guard, who had barely time to react.

He looked at his vest, taking inventory even as the monster wobbled in place, shimmers of heat coming off its black diamond skin.

“Thermite. We started carrying them when we watched the footage of the warlock kid in Maine,” he said.

“Chris, step back,” Erika said. I glanced at her, seeing her partner, Tami, focusing on my monster. Gramps didn’t raise no fool. I got the hell outta the way just as the thing burst into white hot flame. Instantly Erika fired up her tornado trick and the resulting blast furnace sent burning ash twenty feet into the sky.

“I like thermite,” Tami said casually. The security guy nodded, wide-eyed.

My ribs grated as bone shifted and realigned itself, snapping back into place. I was instantly ravenous, digging through my BDU pockets for pemmican and power bars.

The monster zombie burned down to black tar and Ryanne pulled her magic tuning fork from her combat vest pocket. She thwacked it on the heel of her boot and swung it in an arc through the space in front of her. The tone warbled in and out of tune, changing six times across the arc. We all froze, me with half a pemmican bar shoved in my mouth.

“Ah Chris, I don’t think we’re done yet,” she said.

Chapter 25

Winter Realm, Fairie

“Oh, hey there, Morrigan. Didn’t hear you arrive. Those trolls must be handy that way—stepping through gaps they find in space and time,” Declan said, tone light but a slight note of tension creeping through.

“Queen Morrigan, perhaps we could discuss why you arranged for my people to be gated here,” Ashley said, giving Declan a warning glare.

Stacia hooked her fallen clothing with a massive claw as she approached the rest of her party, her form shimmering and shifting as she turned back to a naked woman. Perhaps for the first time in history, Mack thought, no one was gawking at her, as all eyes were on the queen, the Speaker, and the mouthy witch.

“You are on my land, Speaker. Here I ask the questions. And you—you insolent infant. You will cease all use of power and kneel before me,” Morrigan said, glaring at Declan.

The heavy raft of gate timbers swiveled over to hover above the two Guardian elves, the Demyne lord, his son and men.

“Cease you say, your royalness?” Declan asked. “Okay,” he said and waved a hand.

The elves and men bolted almost as soon as the logs moved their way, so when the entire thing crashed to the ground, shaking the earth like an overloaded tractor-trailer, none of them were caught. Horses whinnied and men yelled in fear as they shot out in all directions, all semblance of military order gone.

Mack glanced back at the queen, the hair on his neck raising as he noticed the glitter of frost on the trees and bushes around her. Her glare was murderous and completely focused on Declan.

“Think you are precocious, witchling?” she said, and a line of frost shot across the brown earth, straight toward Declan.

The giant raft of logs shot back up into the air, arcing overhead to slam points down, three feet into the earth, blocking the advancing frost. Ice started to climb the barrier but Declan narrowed his eyes and focused hard on the wall of wood. The middle logs burst into flame, the fire spreading across the others with supernatural swiftness.

Mack couldn’t see the queen, but he heard her screech of outrage. The temperature in the clearing dropped fast and the flames started to sputter as more ice and frost overtook the bark of the logs. Something came around the side of the barrier, moving almost too fast for Mack to see, but he recognized the black of Neeve’s uniform and the even deeper black of her two Frost blades. The double roar of Stacia’s shotgun came almost next to his ear, deafening him as steel shot exploded bark off the left-most log and a cry of mixed pain and anger announced a hit. Neeve swerved to their left, one of her blades morphing into a ten-foot spear that lanced toward Mack’s roommate. A single steel orb snapped down to knock the black needle point into the dirt, smoke rising from the brief contact with iron-bearing metal.

Mack swung his own rifle toward Neeve, sensing his sister doing the same, but his sights could never quite line up with her. She was just too fast. Then the nasty little DP-12 shotgun fired again, two shots almost on top of each other, and Mack saw the black-clad killer get knocked slightly off balance as Stacia scored another glancing hit on the preternaturally fast elven princess.

Neeve broke off her direct assault and raced back to the protection of Declan’s log barrier. That’s right, Coldilocks. We’ve got our own supernatural badass, and her reflexes are at least as good as yours, he thought. Two orbs shot around the wall of logs, each from a different side. Mack couldn’t see what happened but he heard a sharp word, probably Elvish, almost certainly a curse. Then the orbs came back out their opposite sides, circling back to station above Declan.

“Why did you abduct my people?” Ashley yelled in the direction of the queen.

“Why do you think, child?” Morrigan’s melodious voice sounded amused. She was now somewhere back in the trees, just out of sight. “To gain advantage. To exert leverage, my dear.”

“Then why did you send them here?” Ashley asked.

“I didn’t, you ignorant ape,” the queen yelled back, amusement replaced by anger.

“So either you messed up or someone messed things up for you,” Ashley yelled.

A thrum sounded in the trees and a cloud lifted out of the vegetation. A cloud of toothy pucks. Hundreds of them.

“Oh God,” Jetta said.

“Faith, O youngest Sutton,” Declan said, rummaging in his bag of tricks. He pulled out a heavy plastic bottle about the size of a hiker’s water jug. He tossed it into the air and the plastic just exploded. A new, copper-colored cloud spread out around and above them. “That’s six thousand steel BBs from the wondrous and magical land of Walmart. Sic 'em, fellas,” the young warlock said, waving a hand.

Mack eyed his roommate even as the cloud of steel shot at the flock of tiny killers. If Mack didn’t know him better, he’d swear that Declan was a little drunk.

Declan jumped around and waved his hands like he was conducting an orchestra, the massive cloud of metal dancing across the sky in time to his motions. Like some kind of sky broom, the BBs swept through the weaving, dodging pucks, dropping them by tens and twenties, even the briefest contact with the metal enough to doom the little killers.

Some got through and Mack was forced to wave his rifle barrel in a crazy, unsafe manner as two of the steel-jawed fliers came at him. A hand snapped out in front of his face, pale skin with black spots snagging one of the pucks and crushing its body in a convulsive jerk. He nodded his thanks to Ari and took three more swipes before his steel rifle barrel knocked the second one out of the air. A stomp of his boot finished the horrid thing.

Fast, sharp cracks coming one on top of each other, staccato fashion, told him his sister was using her .22 Magnum. He glanced her way and found her shooting pucks from the sky, hitting one with almost every shot.

Suddenly the cloud of BBs swarmed through, around, and among them, sweeping the flying jaws away but not touching a single member of the party. Mack looked at Declan. His friend was still acting a bit weird, but his control of the deadly cloud of BBs was absolutely complete as he brushed the pucks from the air around them.

“ENOUGH!” Morrigan’s voice cried out. It was an ugly screech, nothing queenly about it. Yet it made Mack sad and ashamed. She was so very disappointed and so angry, and Mack couldn’t help but feel it was his fault. He felt intense guilt that he was letting her down.

“Aww no ya don’t,” Declan said, but Mack wasn’t sure if it was to him or to someone else. His friend grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him closer and it was as if a fog seemed to burn away from his mind. The downer feelings were gone and it took Mack a few seconds to realize those had never been his feelings at all.

Stacia was pushing members of their little party toward her witch boyfriend, and Mack could see their faces clear one by one as they each got closer to the young warlock.

“Her main power is command. She imposes her will on yours,” Ian said, rubbing his face briskly with both hands, his submachine gun hanging across his chest.

“Which is gonna suck for us in, like, a few seconds or so,” Declan said, weaving a bit on his feet. “Plus I’m running low, even here. Those rips in reality take a lot out of a witch,” he said. Stacia snorted and Mack couldn’t tell exactly why, but if he had to guess, it was because her boyfriend was doing things that whole circles of witches would struggle with back home.

“It’s worse than that,” Ashley said, pointing. On the far side of the clearing, away from any of the combatants, heavy, squat figures were emerging from the forest.

“The ogres are back,” Jetta said.

“The people of Forpost are coming out,” Aylin said, her words translated by no less than six smartphones at the same time.

Mack looked behind them, and sure enough, the remaining guards were joined by the women and children of Forpost, all moving slowly out of the broken gateway.

“We’re in her Realm. Her power is greatest here,” Ian said.

“Okay, time to go. You guys gotta keep them off me for a few minutes while I set this up,” Declan said, rummaging in his bag of tricks. “I’ll help with the steel shot and my orbs, but most of my attention will need to be here,” he said, pulling out a wooden stick that looked a bit like Harry Potter’s wand. Mack knew it was Rowan wood from the tree on Declan’s home property and his friend only used it when he really, really needed all the help he could get. He kneeled and started to draw shapes and runes in the dirt on the ground.

“Okay, let’s circle up, backs to Declan. Mack, Jetta, you have the ogre side; your rifles have the most power. Ashley, you and I have the horsemen. Ah, Stacia can you…” Ian started to ask, his words falling off. Mack realized that Ashley’s dad had never seen the werewolf woman in action before and it appeared he was still thrown for a loop.

“Right. These ladies and I will keep the fort people at bay,” the beautiful blonde said, stuffing new rounds into her high-capacity double pump shotgun.

“They’re mostly women and kids,” Jetta said.

“That’s why I’m loading up these few rounds of rubber buckshot. Had them in my bandoleer forever. They had to come in handy sometime. After that, I’ll use the little bit of birdshot I’ve got. But Jetta,” Stacia said, “if it comes down to it, I’ll have to take them out.”

“Understood,” Jetta said, topping the magazine of her rifle before putting it back into the gun.

“HEAR ME, MY PEOPLE!” Morrigan yelled. “THESE ALIENS HAVE ATTACKED ME AND YOU. THEY MUST DIE!”

“Gloves are off now,” Stacia said.

“Okay. So are mine,” Declan said, adding symbols around the edge of the three-foot circle he’d scribed. Mack didn’t recognize the shapes Declan was drawing and he realized they must be some Elvish glyphs that his friend had learned.

“Here they come,” Jetta said. Mack looked back up to see all three groups converging on their position. His sister was sighting through her rifle and she suddenly fired. A hundred yards away, an ogre fell backward as the top of its head exploded. Taking his cue, Mack sighted on another of its fellows as the whole horde of monsters started to run their way. He fired, moved his crosshairs to the left, and fired again. Jetta’s rifle went off, then Ian’s HK started to bark fast, single shots, and the crack of Ashley’s 9mm came almost as fast.

Stacia’s shotgun fired, and again, then came the sound of her pump followed by two more shots. “Last two rounds of rubber buck,” she muttered as they all kept firing.

“Mack, throw this when they get close,” Jetta said, using her left hand to put something into his right. It was the M67 grenade that she’d rescued from his gear several days ago.

“Dec?” he asked, tossing it to his friend. The witch looked up and the grenade froze in mid-air. Then Declan grinned and gestured at the little round bomb floating in space. The safety pin plucked itself out and dropped to the ground, then the grenade shot across the seventy-five yards to the onrushing front line of ogres, the safety lever flicking off halfway there.

The little bomb hit an ogre in the front row so hard it punched right through its neck and out the other side. It exploded two seconds later and the results were beyond spectacular.

It killed like six in its immediate vicinity, and the steel shrapnel of the grenade’s casing had a horrific effect on ogres for twenty feet in every direction. Gray skin burnt like it was being sprayed by the molecular acid from the xenophobes in the Aliens movies.

Ogres lost their minds at the pain, attacking themselves and each other.

“Wow, okay. Mack, help Ashley and her dad. I got this,” Jetta said, starting to pick off survivors one by one.

Mack turned his gun on the horsemen of Demyne, the two-point-five power scope bringing them into sharp focus. He wasted no time, sighting the leader, Lord Norton, and squeezing off a round. The big man pitched backward off his horse and Mack switched to the son. Junior’s horse reared back at the moment of Mack’s shot and his round hit the animal in the neck, missing the son altogether. The animal fell over, kicking, and the young lord was lost from view. Mack had an instant to regret the shot, never wanting to harm a horse, but the mass of attackers charging their way wiped the emotion from his mind, refilling it with fear. He started to shoot rapid fire, aiming as best he could, Ian’s and Ashley’s guns firing just as fast. The massed rapid fire knocked down riders like targets at a summer fair shooting gallery. Horses reared and swerved, scared by the explosions in front of them.

“Let’s go!” Declan yelled behind him. Almost as soon as he yelled it, Ashley disappeared, a slender, tanned hand, clad in yellow-green dragon skin, grabbing her vest from behind and literally yanking her off her feet. Mack emptied his rifle and turned to see Stacia toss the younger girl through a new tear in reality like a sack of flour. Ari and Aylin were missing, presumably already through Declan’s new portal. Ian tried to wave the blonde girl off when she came for him but she picked him up bodily from behind and tossed him after his daughter. Jetta yelled and dove through. Mack turned, pulling his Glock, letting his empty rifle fall on its sling, backing toward the portal as he fired off delaying shots in almost every direction around them. He fell backward through the portal, still watching as Stacia grabbed her witch and pulled him through with her. That’s how he saw the needle of glossy black slice out from the side and stab through Declan’s left arm. He also saw one of the orbs smash into the Black Frost spear.

His fall was broken by someone else, then he oooofed as Stacia and Declan slammed into him. The four orbs came zinging through with them and then the rip in space and time zipped shut with a sizzling sound.

“Get off me, you oaf,” his sister said. Her demand was unneeded, as he was already scrambling toward Declan and Stacia, his hand plucking at the Arcane first aid kit in his vest.

Declan’s arm was pouring blood out on the white marble floor of the Speaker’s guest quarters in Idiria.

“There’s still a piece of that damned Black Frost blade inside him,” Stacia said, holding both her hands over the wound.

“I can feel it wriggling around inside my arm,” Declan said, a grimace of pain twisting his features.

“The living weapon of the Queen’s Guardians will continue to try to wound you,” Aylin said. The young girl was standing in the little herb garden in the central atrium of Ashley’s digs, looking frantically through the plants lined up in neat, orderly rows.

“Do we cut it out?” Mack asked, watching the blood well up around Stacia’s fingers.

“It will form barbs and resist. You would have to cut the arm off,” Aylin said, her own voice blending with the multiple translations echoing from their phones. “If I can find… ah-ha. Here it is,” she said, grabbing a bushy green plant and stripping off a handful of little black specks. “The seeds, leaves, and stem of this plant are all deadly to the organism that makes up the Guardian’s weapons.”

The young girl shoved a handful of the things that Mack thought might be seeds into Jetta’s hands, holding back a few that she popped into her mouth and chewed vigorously.

She ran over to Declan and tried to pull Stacia’s hands away, but couldn’t begin to budge them.

“Warrior, she needs to apply the seeds to his wound,” Ari said, bowing low to Stacia as she spoke.

“Let’s try it,” Declan said and with some reluctance, his werewolf released her bloody grip.

Instantly, Aylin bent over the wound and spat a wad of chewed seeds and saliva into the middle of the bloody mess, slapping her own hands over the wound. Declan straightened, his expression of pain freezing then relaxing. Aylin pulled her hands away and the blood flow slowed. The red was broken by an oily black liquid that flowed out and pooled on the floor with the fresh blood.

“That is the remains of the weapon,” Aylin said, wiping her hands on her own shirt, then pulling her bag of herbs from her belt pouch. She put together a mix of dried leaves while her mother tore a piece of cloth from the hem of her shirt. Aylin put the leaves over the wound, her mother binding them in place with the makeshift bandage.

Declan sighed, sweat running down his temple, but his face was relaxed with relief.

“We gotta get to the portal stones, Declan,” Stacia said, coming back from the bathroom with a bunch of towels, “and burn this blood.”

“And you gotta eat something,” he said. The others crowded round as Stacia wiped up the pool of blood, then wiped at her own hands.

“I made up another portal in the bigger garden,” Declan explained to Mack and Jetta. Ashley came running into the room with a tray of food, shoving it onto the table near Stacia. “Eat,” she said. “Everyone else, grab your shit and let’s get ready to get the hell outta here.”

Mack headed to the room in which he had stored his gear, ignoring most of his clothes and focusing on ammo for his guns.

When he got back to the central rooms, Declan had the bloody towels burning up in a fierce little fire in the open dirt of the smaller garden. Stacia handed him a jug and juice splashed down his friend’s face as he chugged a deep drink.

The others were coming back, slinging packs or reloading weapons.

“Okay, come on,” the young witch said, heaving himself upright and moving to the large internal garden.

The internal atrium garden reminded Mack of a Pompeii exhibit he’d once seen. It was one of those traveling museum exhibits that had set up shop for a month in Burlington, and part of the display had focused on life in Pompeii before Mount Vesuvius exploded. He’d been impressed by the central garden area in each home, and the central part of Ashley’s apartments was very similar, although hers was larger. Much of the space was paved with flagstone pathways with plots of garden space in between and a small fountain spraying water right in the exact middle.

Declan led them to a plot that had nothing growing in it, and Mack could see the circle and glyphs that were etched into the dirt and filled with what looked like white ash.

“Okay, here we go. Just gotta power it up and we can jump back to the portal stones,” Declan said.

Motion at the far end of the garden caught all their eyes. Space seemed to twist itself around in a vortex and dark and light colors mixed and spun, then straightened and became Morrigan, Neeve, and the troll. The three caught sight of them, Morrigan smiling a nasty grin that promised pain.

The open sky darkened, a wicked wind blew across them all, and a giant form back-winged to land on the roof, huge talons grabbing and tearing white stone. If the sudden appearance of Trygon wasn’t enough of a shock, the side door to the apartment blew off its hinges and the green-clad forms of Queen Zinnia, Princess Eirwen, and half a dozen guards flowed through to take up position across the garden from Morrigan’s group, with the giant dragon flapping his wings between and above them.

“Well, that sucks,” Declan said, his tone resigned.

Chapter 26

Chris

China, Earth.

The first two came at us as a pair, charging out of the jungle almost as Ryanne finished speaking. Four guards died as I was still Moving to meet the new monsters. Bullets fired ineffectively, mostly missing but bouncing off when they managed to find their targets. Then I was between them, alternating blows from one to the other. My first shot was my best, a hammer fist that dented in the head of the closest one, stunning it long enough for me to fire three fast strikes to its companion’s body.

Kinda silly really, because they healed as fast as I did and none of us did any real damage, although their sharp edges cut and bled me over and over.

I pulled back to reassess and Tami yelled to me. “Chris, here,” I heard. Turning her way, I found three quarters flying at me. My hand shot out on its own and caught them. “Try that plasma jet thing,” she yelled.

What the hell. I tossed the coins up and clapped my hands. The quarters became jets of molten copper and nickel that blasted into Thing One, punching neat dime-sized holes in its armor. I followed it with a spear hand into one of the spots, tearing the hole bigger.

“Grenade,” I yelled. Deckert threw me a cylinder. I pulled the pin and shoved it in while the monster in front of me hit me hard enough in the head to spin me around.

Shaking my head, my vision showed four blurry figures, which I knew was two too many. I opened my arms and dove at the left-hand pair. My momentum stopped cold as the mass of the thing shocked me, but then I Posted and hip threw it to the ground. My coins were gone but Grim had decided to try something that had worked once before: slapping both hands, each lined with aura, together hard over Thing Two’s head, in exactly the same way that I shot the coins.

Thing Two’s head exploded into the ground, cratering a hole two feet deep. The rest of its body was still somehow attached to the shattered head, and that must have confused the nanos’ repair and fight-or-split-and-morph decision, because the body just twitched about on the ground.

“Incoming,” Omega said and I jumped back ten feet. Two drones shot over the ground, one standard model and the other something new. Looking like some kind of guided cruise missile, the unknown drone was three feet long and cylindrical. Twin probe-looking rods extended two feet straight out of the front of the flying robot and at least eight mini-propellers floated it off the ground. It closed in on the twitching zomboid monster and a bluish fluid poured from the front of the drone, somehow running down between the two probes to coat the monster’s body. The standard drone then powered up its particle gun and fired off a burst, the body instantly consumed by white-hot flame.

“Liquid oxygen greatly enhances the oxidation process, and its paramagnetic properties let me direct its application with a high degree of accuracy,” Omega said.

“How long you been working on that?” I asked. Deckert moved up beside me to watch the fire. The oxygen drone moved over to Thing One and applied some liquid fuel to the burning thermite. Almost instantly, there was a sharp bang and a shock wave hit us. “Unanticipated detonation can be a side effect.”

“Really?” Deckert said, then waved a flame thrower team forward. Erika threw up a hand and the team stopped like their feet were frozen to the ground. “There are four more inbound,” she said to Deckert, and me then winked at the young soldiers.

“Hit ‘em from there, Jacobs, then fall back,” Deckert said. Jacobs sprayed liquid fire over the already burning monsters, as our motto was burn, re-burn, then burn again.

I shook out my arms, hoping Grim had something left for four of the big bastards. The ground shook, making me think this was going to be a whole lot less fun.

Just as the four big black forms burst from the foliage, I realized the shaking was coming from behind me. Two thousand pounds of were-bear shot past me and knocked the first alien seventy feet through the air like it was made of styrofoam. Then ‘Sos reared up and slammed both paws together on the second alien, smashing its body into an elongated black mess. Something was odd about his paws and as I looked closer, I could see that my entire bear had changed. He was taller and leaner, stretching over fifteen feet tall, his limbs longer, paws wider and more leathery looking. His jaws were stretched into something slightly less bear and slightly more wolf.

“Our baby has found a third form,” a lovely voice said just as a wave of jasmine and lilac hit my nose.

“You’re up early,” I said to my vampire, watching as ‘Sos tossed aliens around in his new combat form.

“I sensed your fatigue. You’ve had a busy shift,” she said, unlimbering her tungsten carbide swords. “Take a breather.”

“If you say so, although might I suggest you bring a thermite grenade or two with you?” I said.

She raised one eyebrow at the same time Deckert held out a bandoleer holding four gray and purple cylinders. “I like to make a little hole and tuck them inside,” I suggested.

She thought about that for a moment, then disappeared in a rush of air. Appearing behind an alien that was climbing to its feet, she leaned forward and sang. I think it was a single note, but don’t ask me to name it. Key of death maybe? Mostly I was just thankful it was directed away from all of us. The thing’s head blew open like clay, still clinging together but no longer recognizable as a head. She promptly dropped a grenade down the thing’s neck and took a casual step back.

“Elegant,” Deckert said to me, clearly implying that my approach was crude and primitive.

"Well, I did give her the idea,” I said.

Awasos smashed another one toward her and she grabbed it out of mid-air, slamming it down onto her first victim, who was on the ground and burning fiercely. “On your left,” Omega said. Tanya skipped sideways and the liquid oxygen drone slipped up and poured frozen oxygen over the second one. It caught flame from the first and went up like a house afire.

“Efficient. She’s conserving grenades,” Deckert said.

“They’re working as team, ya know. The big furry one is making it easy for her,” I said, arms crossed. “Plus the drones only just got here.”

A third zombie flew across the clearing, this time toward us, but she was there before I could think to move, chopping it in half with one sword while removing its head with the other. Before any body parts could take off on their own, she shoved them together in a pile and stepped out of Omega’s drones’ path.

“Wow, she makes that look easy,” Ryanne said. All four witches were standing alongside us by this time.

“Yeah, really nice form,” Tami said.

I sighed, gave in, and started a slow clap. My vampire grinned my way and threw out a comment while waiting for Awasos’s last victim. “We discovered last night that if you keep the parts piled around each other, it confuses them. I think they don’t know whether to split or try and regrow,” she said. “Seems to work with these big ones too.”

“No one told me that,” I said.

Deckert handed me a single piece of paper. At the top it said Notes from the night shift.

“Printer ran out of ink. Just got it fixed a few minutes ago,” he said.

Running a hand through my hair, I decided I was done for the day. “Right. I’m headed to bed.”

Erika opened her mouth to say something which, based on her arched eyebrow, was not going to be received well by Tanya, but Tami thumped her in the stomach with an elbow.

I turned to go and a rush of scented air caught me. “What? No kiss good day?” my vampire asked.

Just as I kissed her, Ryanne drew in a sharp, deep breath. Damn. Nothing good ever came from one of those. She was looking at her tuning fork.

“I got more,” she said, face going white.

“How many?” Tanya asked.

“Sixteen, no wait,” she said, hitting the fork on her elbow. This time, we all heard the tone warble over twenty times.

“This may be why I have not yet encountered any of the big aliens on the TRAPPIST planet,” Omega said. “They’re all here.”

Chapter 27

Idiria, Fairie

For five seconds, the only sound was the patter of dust and stone falling from where Trygon’s claws tore the white stone of the rooftop. Mack barely dared to breathe, holding his SOCOM rifle tightly. Then the massive yellow-black dragon lifted his head and roared.

Declan’s face was very pale and even the uber-confident Stacia looked worried. It was Ashley who seemed the most cool. She had her arms crossed, wearing an angry expression as she stared directly at the dragon.

“You wouldn’t help!” she yelled. “So we did it ourselves, and I was right! It was a setup.”

The dragon pulled back, somehow managing to look affronted by her tone. Then the massive head swiveled to look at Queen Morrigan.

The icy queen of winter inspected one hand, glaring at her nails. She looked up at the beast and shrugged. “They didn’t end up where they were supposed to. That wasn’t my fault,” she said, looking from the dragon to her summer sister across the garden, one eyebrow raised.

The dragon turned his head and took in the warriors and royalty of the Summer Realm.

Zinnia crossed her arms and looked calmly back. “The portal was perfect. If it went wrong, it’s the coordinates that were wrong.”

“You’re all involved?” Ashley asked, expression half horror, half outrage. Her father’s face had settled into a hard expression and Stacia’s eyes were starting to turn yellow. But Declan, well, Mack had never seen that particular look on his friend’s face before—never.

Declan’s surprise was fading, replaced by a unique combination of deadly anger and something else that took Mack a second to identify… resignation. Clearly his friend had come to an unhappy conclusion, but Mack couldn’t for the life of him figure out what in this entire clusterfuck that Declan could be resigned to. Scared of, yes, but resigned to? Nothing at all came to mind.

The two queens and the dragon turned back to the Speaker and her party, the women expectant, but the dragon, whose eyes shone with that unexpected intelligence, somehow managed to duplicate part of Declan’s look of resolve on its own giant scaly face.

“Oh? You object to my involvement? You, the dragon that’s supposed to guard me and protect me?” Ashley demanded, carrying on a one-sided conversation. The dragon didn’t so much as blink, but Ashley sucked in a breath. She turned to the rest of them.

“It’s all three of them. Trygon doesn’t want the dragons to trade with the elven realms, and the queens wanted to hold leverage over me in the negotiations,” she said.

Stacia was nodding, not looking terribly surprised, and Mack caught her eye. She shrugged. “Politics. Complicated shit. It’s why I don’t do Pack stuff beyond the bare minimum. Those three are all looking to screw each other over, but unified in their desire to screw the rest of us.”

“Crude. Essentially correct, though,” Zinnia said. “The question is… what do we do now?”

“Easy answer, sister dearest. We kill the witch, the bitch, and the brats,” Morrigan answered. “Hold the sire as indemnity against her good behavior and get this mess done.”

“Nope. None of the above,” Declan said, tearing his gaze away from the scary trio to look at Stacia. Mack glanced her way in time to see her nod. When he looked back at Declan, his friend had dropped to one knee and had both palms flat on the cold white stone of Idiria. “I accept. You are mine – I am yours,” he said.

A wave of something blasted through the air, the ground, and even into Mack himself, shaking him right down to his bones. It shook the building; no, scratch that—it shook the city. Declan looked possessed. His eyes were rolled back in his head, tendons and veins popping on his neck and forearms, teeth clenched in something like pain.

Most of their group was thrown off their feet, only Stacia somehow keeping hers. The two queens fared about the same, although Neeve somehow kept from falling. On the roof, Trygon was flapping his wings to steady his perch, and the trickle of stone and dust from his feet had become a full-fledged avalanche.

It stopped—suddenly. Earthquake, mindquake, reality shake, whatever it was, it just ceased. On the ground, Declan drew a big air-sucking breath, his body collapsing down, folding into his kneel as the tension left him, his eyes closed. Then he opened them and Mack felt himself push back. Instinctive, the urge to remove one’s self from something unknown and dangerous.

He couldn’t help it. His buddy’s eyes were lit from within, glowing blue like a neon light. So bright you couldn’t make out his iris or the whites of his eyes. Most of the group scrunched back too, so Mack wasn’t alone.

Stacia did the opposite, moving over to bend down and touch her witch with both hands. Declan released his breath slowly, blinked a couple of times, and the glowing light from his eyes dimmed slightly, but he still didn’t look quite human. Not really.

“What did you do?” Ian asked. The guy either had balls of steel or brains of cork because Mack didn’t think he, himself, would have drawn Declan’s immediate attention right then and according to all current rumors, he was Declan’s best friend.

“I claimed it,” the warlock kid said.

Across the atrium, the both queens’ heads snapped up, clearly able to hear his comment.

“This land, this band of neutral ground has been trapped between two realms for eons. Winter and Summer have always been claimed by their queens, even before these two,” Declan said, standing slowly and waving one hand at the far end of the garden. “But this neutral ground wanted to be claimed too. That’s what it’s been after me about since we got here.”

“What does that mean?” Ian asked.

“It means, Ian Moore, that an abomination has occurred. That all the reasons for banning witches were correct,” Morrigan said, turning her cold stare from their group to her sister.

“Oh please, sister mine. If you foresaw this, you never whispered even a word of it,” Zinnia said.

“But what does it mean? To claim the land?” Ashley asked.

“It means there is now a third realm. One that splits this continent across the middle,” Stacia said. “It also means that this land feeds all of its power to its new claimant—Declan.”

“And that does… what exactly?” Jetta asked.

“Gives him the power to fight the queens,” Mack guessed.

Declan turned his creepy new eyes on Mack and nodded. “Right you are, buddy. Right you are,” he said.

“If you think this dirty strip of rock and sand can match the power of the Winter Realm, you are stupid as well as delusional,” Queen Morrigan said.

“Likewise, as the vast well of life that powers the Summer realm is far greater than this blight of flatness,” Zinnia said.

“Aside from the fact that you’re not on your realms at the moment, there’s also the fact that they ascend and descend with the seasons,” Declan said. “In the depth of winter, Morrigan holds sway; in the heat of summer, it’s Zinnia. Think of the middle realm as fall and spring,” Declan said, stretching. He tilted his neck one way. It popped and snapped and then he did it to the other side as well. “The north has the glaciers and ice cap, the south the jungles. But you know what I have?” He held up one hand, palm up, and a ball of purest fire appeared.

The answer popped into Mack’s head. Something Omega had mentioned, something that would have made the seven-hundred-mile hike back to Idiria even more impossible. “Volcanoes,” Mack said.

“See, Mack gets it. I have a whole mountain range of volcanoes, and they are all begging me to burn stuff. I can feel them right now, right this instant,” Declan said.

“You can feel them from this far away?” Jetta asked, eyes wide.

“The claimant of a realm can feel every life standing on their ground. Every tree, stone, river, and insect,” Zinnia said, staring at Declan with something a bit like horror on her face.

Trygon suddenly roared.

“WHAT?” Ashley yelled, her voice filled with both horror and betrayal. The dragon pulled back its head on that long neck like a rattlesnake getting ready to strike, then arched forward, the massive mouth opening and a stream of fire pouring out, straight at them.

The cone of pure fire shot across the open garden space, incinerating the herb garden and scorching the white stone black. Mack felt his body pull itself tight, preparing to burn to death right there.

But the wall of flame hit something fifteen feet out from their position and just stopped its forward motion. Mack didn’t even feel the heat that flared outward like a blowtorch on glass. The air to his right side and above him carried visible waves of heat, but the stone at his feet and the space occupied by his friends was cool.

The dragon’s flame cut off and Declan smiled. “I thought you said dragons were smart, Ash?” he asked mildly, his hands cupping together like he was packing a snowball. The top, left hand pulled away and Mack saw a much bigger sphere of pure white fury blazing in the palm of his buddy’s right hand. Declan’s palm flattened out and the witch nodded to himself. The orb of nuclear fire shot off like a rocket, moving faster than Mack could follow. Like a laser blast from every Star Wars movie ever, it smashed into the armored chest of the dragon and exploded, throwing fire in all directions.

Trygon screeched, his cry filled with pain. Mack could see the heavy chest plates were partially melted and deformed, but otherwise intact.

“Never, never give a fire witch more fire,” Declan said mildly, packing another ball of plasma.

“KILL HIM!” Morrigan yelled and at her words, both groups attacked.

Eirwen’s Hunters were even faster than Neeve, two pulling bows and two other elves rushing the Speaker’s party with three goblins bounding along beside them.

That meant that the two hunters caught the second plasma ball right between them, the explosion leaving just parts of burnt green leather boots, one of which had a stump of white bone poking out of cauterized flesh.

Jetta’s Glock went full automatic at the same time that Ian’s UMP fired a burst and two of the three green goblins dropped their chests and heads smashed to bloody blue pulp. The third squatty monster made a second jump and landed right in front of Ian, but Stacia just somehow shot forward, her left fist catching the side of the goblin’s head hard enough to cave it in, her foot flashing up to kick it twenty feet away, where it lay twitching. Ian’s eyes were huge; he’d been struggling to shift his gun to that goblin and failing when Stacia killed the beast with a single blow.

Neeve had closed half the distance to them by the time Mack noticed her in motion, dodging behind the white pillars that held up the edges of the garden roof just as Declan’s third fireball blasted into the stone. The explosion cleared, revealing two-thirds of one pillar melted into glowing slag. Unharmed, Neeve darted out, closing more distance, both hands filled with Black Frost blades. Mack raised his rifle and fired off ten fast shots as fast as he could, shooting instinctively. He missed the deadly elven warrior with every shot but he managed to slow her approach, forcing her off her chosen path. He dropped the heavy recoiling rifle on its combat sling and transitioned to his pistol. Thumbing the back mounted selector to full auto, he burst fired the weapon at the fast-moving elf, chipping stone at her feet, near her head, and pockmarking the wall behind her.

Again he missed her but earned himself a deadly glare as the agile warrior was forced to go to ground behind a stone bench. He took the opportunity to drop out his partial mag and reload with his thirty-three rounder.

A line of frost shot across the flagstones of the garden path, catching his eye with its motion, but it sputtered out when an entire section of the path lifted itself into a berm five feet tall and three feet thick. Declan’s lifted left hand explained that, but when he gestured with his right and a burst of water from the fountain shot through the air to spray a cloud of the insect-like Tinks coming from Summer’s position, Mack felt his mouth drop open. Declan couldn’t do water magic. The sodden poisonous flyers suddenly fell out of the air as the water coating them froze into ice and the victorious look on Declan’s face answered Mack’s question. He could work water, at least now—somehow.

Neeve dove forward and Mack cursed himself for his distraction. His shots came too late and the black-clad female leapt off the ground, bounded off a pillar in the opposite direction, and rolled behind a boulder that was part of the garden’s formal arrangement.

Mack shot two three-round bursts but held off wasting ammo, feeling like he was going to need every round in a moment.

“Ready buddy?” Declan asked him, eyebrows lifted. “In three—two—one.”

Mack brought the pistol on target as the giant two-ton boulder rocketed out of its cradle of dirt and stone, heading right for the massive dragon on the roof.

Mack fired as soon as he saw black fabric, a small spray of viscous blue fluid spattering the white stone as the elf cursed in her own language and bolted back toward her previous cover.

Roaring in outrage at Declan’s missile, Trygon lifted one huge leg and batted the rock away, his roar carrying a slight tone of pain in its final note, even as the dragon was staggered by the impact.

But the witch boy was just getting warmed up. In rapid fire, Declan fired a series of smaller, plasma billiard balls at Morrigan, who shrieked in pain and darted behind her Bigfoot troll. The nine-foot-tall monster roared, distressed, as fireballs clipped his fur-covered arm, hand, and opposite shoulder. The entire corner of the garden exploded into broken stone and flying rock as space folded around the wounded troll and in the blink of an eye, the Queen of Winter and her dimension-jumping bodyguard were gone. Red hot molten stone dripped down from the wall behind where they had just stood, pooling onto the flagstones below.

Declan didn’t hesitate, moving his stream of plasma rounds toward Trygon, raking the spray of missiles across the dragon’s outstretched wing. At least one sun-hot ball punched through the relatively thin skin of the bat-like wing and the dragon screamed in pain and fury, leaping forward to physically attack the source of his pain.

“That’s right, Tick Tock, bring it on in,” Declan muttered, mostly to himself. He was still acting a bit off, and the speed with which he was blasting spells was crazy fast, but Mack had seen his friend pull off some insane shit in Wytch War, and he just knew that something was about to so not go the dragon’s way.

The ground shuddered and shook as the massive reptilian charged their group. Fifty yards, forty, thirty, it was almost on them. Mack smelled full-on ozone a split-second before a thunderous crack split the air and a blinding bolt of lightning shot up from from the ground to Trygon’s head. The dragon’s body shuddered and shook, its tail jutting straight out behind it.

Mack’s vision blacked out at the flash, and he found himself instinctively backpedaling till a flicker of vision returned and he saw the dragon laid out flat on the ground, twitching.

Declan turned his attention to the last enemy, the summer queen, but Zinnia was already pulling back to the doorway, her daughter and their sole surviving Hunter following her backward. Four plasma balls smashed the broken door, punching glowing holes through the wall.

That left only Neeve, who chose that moment to jump over her bench, leap for the roof, and pull herself up and out of sight like a parkour expert on crack. And then there were none.

“Did you kill him?” Ashley asked, staring in partial horror at the supine dragon.

“Tasered the shit out of his ass. Big chunk of quartz under the garden. I can feel it here,” Declan said, tapping his head. “Used a magnetic field like a piezoelectric lighter. I could kill him right now, though. Probably should.”

Stacia rounded on him, eyes narrowed as he pondered the question of the stunned reptile. When he shook his head and turned away, Mack saw a flicker of what might have been relief cross her face.

“Leaving live enemies behind us is a poor tactical decision,” Ian pointed out.

“Then poke your HK into his eyeball and let a mag rip. I’m not gonna kill him, though,” Declan said. “What I am gonna do is bust a gate open to the portal stones. So grab your gear because we’re all getting the hell out of here.”

Mack watched Ian, but the tough fighter just slung his gun and headed off to grab their dropped supplies. Declan noticed Aylin and her mother, both standing as far as they could get from the young witch. “Hey, thanks for that thing with the seeds,” he said. “How did you know how to kill that chunk of Frost Blade?”

Omega dutifully translated but the girl and her mother both just stayed frozen in fear.

“Aylin is super gifted with plant-based treatments. It’s like her super power, and her mother helps her find the right stuff. It’s really lucky we found them and brought them along,” Jetta said, moving over to the pair and squatting down next to them.

Declan was giving Jetta a funny look, like he knew something she didn’t, but he blanked his expression when he caught Mack looking at him. “Yeah, super lucky. Thanks again,” he said, then turned and started to clear dust and broken rock off a part of the ground that already had ash glyphs and circles on it. Some were smudged so he pulled out his Rowan wood stick and started to redraw them.

Aylin watched Declan like he was the most deadly snake in the garden, but she spoke softly to Jetta. “The living weapon was discovered by the men who kept mother and myself in the Winter Queen’s workshops. It can become hard as the hardest crystal, but it is completely susceptible to the juices of the Quist bush.”

“The seeds of which I hope you kept,” Declan said over his shoulder to Jetta. “Cause that shit would be handy next time we go up against that cold bitch.”

Aylin looked wide-eyed that Declan had heard her but then her attention was grabbed by Stacia crouching down next to her and her mother. “Like the skinny kid said, thank you. I’ve gotten kind of attached to him,” she said.

“Hey, I’m right here ya know,” Declan said without turning from his glyph drawing.

“You are High Blood,” Ari said, her voice filled with awe.

“Shit, don’t tell her that!” Declan said. “She already reminds me at every chance she gets that she’s outta my league.”

“That’s right, magic boy. You leveled up when you met me,” Stacia said but patted Aylin’s hand as she smirked back at her witch.

Jetta, who was pulling seeds from her pocket and carefully placing them into a Ziploc bag, looked at the mother-daughter pair. “See, they’re harmless,” she said.

Ari snorted as the closest phone translated the words.

Mack decided to head to his room and grab a few things he’d forgotten. When he turned to leave, he found the blonde were-girl standing in the door.

“Ah, hey,” he said, uncertain.

“He’s been off-kilter since we got here. What he had to do out there is only going to make him worse. I might need your help,” Stacia said.

“He’s freaking leveled up to god status,” Mack said. “What can I do?”

“Nothing, if you think I mean to force him. None of us can. But you’re his best friend. You have influence—juice—pull. You might have to help me cajole, wheedle, and threaten his ass to get him off this stupid planet. I don’t know. But I know he was ready, willing, and able to declare war on a whole planet to find you and your sister.”

“Of course I will. If you think it would help,” he said.

“Good. Just keep an eye on him and jump in to help if you see me struggling,” she said.

“Sure. I’m just glad we don’t have to try and manhandle him,” Mack said.

“Don’t be ridiculous. He just beat up both queens of Fairie and flattened a dragon,” she said, slipping out the door.

Yeah, exactly. What did she expect a normal human to do?

Five minutes later, he was back out in the garden, his stuff all packed and on his back. The others came along almost as quickly, with Ashley and her dad last, as the dragon speaker had packed up Jetta’s stuff for her, while Jetta sat with Ari and Aylin, who were still completely terrified of Declan.

“Is that thing ready or what?” Stacia asked Declan, who was studying his portal uncertainly.

“What? This? Yes. Ready to go,” he said, suddenly noticing the others had all arrived. “We all set?”

Nods, affirmatives, and a hell yeah from Jetta confirmed they were a go, so the witch turned back to his work, kneeling by the drawing. He touched one hand and the portal opened. No rip in space this one, but a full rectangle with a perfect mirror finish.

“Okay, let’s go. This train is leaving,” he said, waving Mack toward the gate. “There’s no one at the portal stones except the Watchers on duty.”

Mack raised his eyebrows and Declan tapped the side of his head. Oh, right. Tied to the land. Got it.

Mack stepped through, rifle ready despite his buddy’s reassurance, and found himself on the plains at the base of the fifteen hills that were each capped with a portal stone. The sun was just slightly lower in the horizon here, as the jump west had taken them about a hundred miles or so, not enough to change what would be a time zone back home, but still later in the day than Idiria.

Ian came next, followed by Charm the pit bull, then Ashley, Jetta with Ari and Aylin. Finally Stacia stepped through, her arm pulling Declan’s hand through along with the rest of him.

Declan looked around, then turned and touched the edge of the open doorway torn through space. As soon as his index finger touched it, the mirror shrank down toward the tip of his digit, disappearing completely like it had been vacuumed into his hand.

“Smooth,” Mack said to his roomie. Declan looked unsure of what he meant, brow furrowed. “The portal, it was much smoother than the others, not that I’m complaining.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, if I thought I had access to power before, I was sadly mistaken. What I can do right now, touching this ground is… well, crazy. Beyond crazy,” he said.

“Are you going to be able to leave it?” Mack asked. Declan didn’t answer right away, which worried Mack more than a little.

“I will likely feel a bit—crippled back home,” he said thoughtfully. He turned, a speculative look on his face, to Stacia.

“Nope, I’m going. You are too. You’ll be mad as a hatter in a week if you stay here tapped into all this. No wonder the queens are malevolent bitches,” she said.

“But the things I can do from here?” he protested.

“Omega needs you back on Earth, D. Super-intellect or not, he won’t fully grasp humans for a least a bit. And he’s less likely to wash his hands of us if you’re there,” Mack said. “No offense, Omega.”

“No offense is taken, Mack. I do need my father home. My resources are not endless and I am running operations on three planets and fighting an invasion of un-killable biological weapons in China.”

“I forgot about that. How is it going?” Declan asked. Mack hadn’t heard any of this before, so he glanced at his sister and saw she was just as puzzled.

“Currently Chris and Tanya are fighting all-out against a number of larger, more lethal versions of the nano fighters, which appear to have come through a gate into China. There are issues. My own drones on the invaders’ staging world are closing in on the open gate. I will have to assault it from that side and try to close it. I need help,” Omega said.

“Shit. Let’s go,” Declan said, turning toward the fifteen portal hills. He looked at them thoughtfully, then pointed at the fifth one from the left. “That one comes out somewhere on Taiwan.”

“How do you know that?” Ian asked.

“I can tell you how many tons of copper are in that mountain to our east and what direction the herds of Fairie deer are running four miles west of here. I can tell you the queens have left Idiria and there are no dragons roosting there either.”

“Sounds like we should get the hell out of Dodge and we should just trust that he knows what he knows,” Jetta said, turning and heading for the hill Declan had pointed out. With a shrug, Mack followed, as did the rest of the party.

When they got up the switchback path that climbed to the top, an elf in a robe stood silently before them. Mack brought his rifle up, but Declan just pushed the barrel down and shook his head.

“Greetings, Watcher. We will travel,” he said to the elf, who simply nodded and turned to the upright stones of the interstellar gate and began to move his arms through a series of motions, chanting softly to himself.

“I am sending all of my TRAPPIST drones against the open gate to China. There are still converted aliens massing to pass through. Drones one through six are distracting with massed weapons fire. Drones seven, eight, nine, and ten are combining into a single explosive missile formation. Numbers eleven and twelve are overwatch. Impact in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.” Omega paused. “Detonation complete. Gate is destroyed along with sixty-three percent of alien forces. Assault drones are preparing to retreat. Drone four damaged. Drone two destroyed. Drone five is captur….”

The phone went silent.

“Omega?” Declan asked. “Omega, what’s happening?”

Their cell phones were unresponsive . Aylin asked Jetta something. The phones didn’t translate.

“What the hell? Let’s go. We gotta get back now. Watcher, is that gate open?” Declan said, suddenly frantic. The mirror surface and the bowing Watcher were answer enough. Declan started heading for the mirror, only to stop and turn. He looked at the other hills, raised his right hand, and made a gesture. Then he turned and jumped through the open portal.

On all the surrounding fourteen hills, the towering stones of the portals all rumbled and then sank down into the earth of the hilltops.

“He’s locking the doors,” Stacia said. “Everyone through the looking glass, now!” she said.

Mack didn’t need to be told twice. He got in line behind the mother and daughter refugees and once they were through, he leapt into an image of himself, noting his expression was part panic and part something else. Was that what determination looked like?

Chapter 28

Chris

China, Earth

“Omega? Omega, talk to us!” Lydia yelled. I saved my breath for the fighting. Ryanne had been wrong. It wasn’t twenty of those things. Hell, it wasn’t even thirty. We had already fought the better part of thirty-eight seven-foot-tall monsters coated in black crystal armor, and more were still coming.

“Get Chet on it!” Tanya yelled, chopping into the leg of a zombie that had to go eight feet tall. She had refined her technique on the fly. Drop low and chop the knee, her tungsten blade hard enough to buckle the lighter armor around the knee joint. As the body followed natural physics and folded toward that side, she’d jump up and hit it with the opposite sword on the side of the head while dodging its long, diamond-sharp arms. Then, as she did in this case, a roundhouse kick to the same side of the body as the head blow, bending the monster even further to one side, the neck as close to horizontal as she could get it. Finally, with a karate yell that gave her strength and somehow weakened its neck armor, she would hit it fast with a one-two sword strike to the neck. In most cases, it would just about decapitate the thing. In this instance, the head hung from shiny black plates of glassy armor.

Even un-killable armored zombies pause for a moment when their heads are mostly detached. Which gave one of her assistants, in this case, Nika, a chance to dart forward and stuff a white phosphorus grenade down its throat.

We’d discovered that WP was almost better than thermite. It happened when we ran low on thermite and were forced to improvise. The phosphorus wasn’t as hot, but much more… dynamic. All kinds of fireworks and flames. Neck stumps shooting sparks like a damned Fourth of July fountain. There was more than enough thermal energy for most of the Fire witches to work with. The one standing behind Nika was fairly new, a freshman at Arcane named Isabelle. Now on her sixth or seventh burn job, she was still a bit wide-eyed, although she didn’t hesitate anymore.

My own combatant was stumbling backward, which was exactly what they all did at this stage. Instant healing, diamond armor, massive size, strength, and speed. But stupid. Overall, the enemy changed tactics, but as a group. One on one, they followed the same protocol almost each and every time. So I’d discovered that if I could get my hands on their heads and twist them around, two things would happen. One, the armor, which resisted impact extremely well, couldn’t stand axial shear forces for shit. And two, a zombie with its head facing backward tended to walk backward. Or spun in place. Eventually it would get its head straightened, but that could take as much as five minutes.

So I went in close, broke necks rapidly, moving from enemy to enemy, while my own clean-up crew took down the stumbling remains. There weren’t enough uninjured Fire witches left to have one for myself, but in the jungle, with a temporarily disoriented monster zombie, a human flamethrower crew worked just as well. I finished number three and stepped back, grabbing the bowl that was thrust my way while Zombie boys one and two got hosed with liquid fire and number three was spinning in place, trying to coordinate itself.

“Look, the drones are just hovering on station. No firing, no maneuvers, like no one is home,” Lydia said.

I took the spoon out of my mouth, swallowed the cold lump of rice and fish, and took a breath.

“Before you say it, I already spoke to Chet by radio. All signs of Omega have ceased. Everywhere. The only trace Chet has seen was a final screen change on the big central monitor in HQ that briefly showed a spinning cursor symbol before the whole thing went blank,” Lydia said.

Tanya appeared beside me, trying to focus on her tiny vampire pal but thoroughly distracted by my shoulder. I glanced at it and saw a trickle of red. Wadding the final two spoons full of rice into a single massive gob, I dropped the bowl and shoved my left wrist in the direction of her face, while the huge slug of congealed rice and spicy fish went into my mouth. She paused to search my face and even watch the pulse in my neck before she nodded and took my arm.

“Just when I think your mouth can’t get any bigger. Like a damned anaconda eating a pig,” Lydia said, ignoring the fact that her vampire princess was chomping down on my wrist like a fat kid with a bowl of brownie mix. Sorry, I mean obese kid. Or lean mass challenged, if that’s better.

“Anyhoo, Chet thinks Omega is being hacked,” Lydia said. I almost choked on my food. “Yeah, your neck even swells out like a snake’s,” she said, expression half fascinated, half grossed out.

I swallowed as fast as I could clear my esophagus, but she held up one hand. “Don’t hurt yourself. I can read the thoughts on your expressive and oh-so-simple face. He thinks that one or more of the Omega’s TRAPPIST drones got grabbed by the enemy and that they have a computer powerful enough to attack our AI.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, finally able to talk.

“We don’t know. Chet thinks Omega has pulled back from everywhere at once to concentrate on fighting the attack. He thinks that if they had already won, these drones would be attacking us instead of hovering uselessly, or maybe even our own nukes would be going off in our cities.”

“Can we help Omega?” Tanya asked, pulling away from my wrist briefly. Lydia handed me a liter bottle of water while turning to answer.

“We have no idea how. The only way he can think of is if Declan can somehow reach Omega through some of that magic bullshit the kid is always pulling out of his ass,” Lydia said.

“And he’s a world away,” I said.

“Funny you should say that. I got a cell call ten minutes ago. Stacia was calling from the countryside in Taiwan. The whole lot of them just gated over from Fairie. I’ve got them on a Chinese military chopper headed this way,” Lydia said.

“That wasn’t important enough to tell us?” I asked.

“Not in the middle of a wave of those things. Can’t have you distracted because I sure as shit can’t fight those things. It’s one of your best uses, and you don’t have that many to begin with,” she said, smirking.

“Really?” Tanya asked, clearly annoyed enough to pull away from the fountain of wrist.

Lydia’s smirk vanished. “Honestly, I had to pull every string I could to get them out from under the gun barrels of the Taiwanese police, who Stacia said were getting pretty close to dying by witch, then onto a military base with no entry stamps on their passports, which they didn’t all have, and finally coordinate the whole chopper thing. And you two were neck deep in monsters. Plus all the military types are running around trying to get their nukes back now that our computer overlord is MIA,” she said. “Chet said all the big alphabet groups are going nuts while the thing’s not responding.”

“Thing?” I asked.

“Come on Chris. It’s not a human. It’s not actually male at all,” Lydia said. “It’s so different, I don’t know what to call it.”

“Lydia Chapman, biological racist,” I said, taking a long pull on my water. Tanya was still snacking on my wrist, but following our byplay with lots of telling expressions, with an eye roll for my latest shot.

“How far away are they?” I asked.

“They haven’t lifted off yet, hotshot. But I pulled some magic shit of my own and they should be here in an hour or so, which, considering the bureaucratic red tape I had to cut, is pretty freaking amazing,” she said.

“I’d be more amazed if I didn’t know you just splashed Elder Tzao’s name all around like a bucket of cold water to get whatever you wanted,” I said.

She drew a breath to argue, but a quiet voice interrupted. “I’m sorry, but there are more coming,” Isabelle said.

Tanya instantly stopped snacking, her quick, dainty lick on my wrist to heal the wounds a habit more than a necessity. Together we moved out onto the combat field.

When the Chinese army first lost control of the situation, it wasn’t for lack of trying. They napalmed the shit out the first two villages, but the TRAPPIST zombies are wily bags of infectious shit and some got away. The cordon of soldiers surrounding the area had tried to fight them in the thick, thick jungle. The results were a new bunch of zombies wearing army uniforms.

When we started fighting the secondary villages, the Air Force burned the jungle to the ground with incendiaries all around both sites. The new no-zombie-land was a uniform two hundred meters wide, patrolled by witches and flamethrower crews, lit brightly day and night. There were fifteen-foot-wide strips of sticky acid paper running around the perimeter of the zone, a last-ditch attempt at body part control. Big trenches had been cut diagonally and filled with flaming oil to funnel the aliens directly at Tanya and me. These were backed up with tanks, machine gun crews, and some old Soviet-era truck-mounted flamethrowers.

My vampire and I moved out into the zone. Our team of witches followed behind, along with a number of flame throwers and whole wheelbarrows of WP grenades.

Overhead, military helicopters circled pretty much continuously, keeping an eye out for anything the witches missed. That’s what the drones had done as well. Now they just either hovered or, if out of power, sat on the ground.

Three black figures burst from the foliage and we got real busy, real fast. Four more followed those a few minutes later.

It had been suggested by the general types that we should just bomb the remaining village to cinders, but we had argued that was a last resort. With the talents of the Arcane students and the local Chinese witches, we could dial right down to each and every alien, insuring that every infectious part was accounted for. The generals finally agreed but warned that if anything happened to Tanya and myself, they would firebomb the crap out of the whole province if necessary.

So we fought on, separately and together. Knowing that Omega had closed the gate from the other side let us know for sure that an end would come to the waves of armored giants.

The first inkling that the Fairie team had arrived was right in an middle of an outbreak of eight monsters. They came out of the jungle in a single line. As only Tanya and I could really fight them one on one (Arkady was still recovering from his wounds and Senka kept herself in reserve), we had relied on the fire trenches and the massed military firepower to herd them our way. This time, they failed to be herded. The ones on the ends just jumped the trenches and raced up onto the armored vehicles, killing soldiers like mice. One actually jumped into the open top of a tank and the screams of the men inside ripped through the night. Behind us, I could hear more choppers landing or circling but my attention was split between the monster I fought and the ones breaching our lines.

That’s when a pulse of light so bright it was like a comet burned across from behind me and hit the tank killer as it raised itself up out of the commander’s cupola. Instant, overwhelming fire melted the killer right where it was, burning so hot it also slagged the whole top of the tank, which exploded right after. Five more streaks of light lit the night, each hitting an alien like a guided missile. In every case, the alien went up in tower of white hot flame. The aliens that Tanya and I fought both suddenly just blasted off their feet, flying back twenty yards each. Twin comets jetted from behind and exploded them into balls of incineration like the others. The flames from the zombies and the burning tank lit the field to almost daylight levels.

I looked at my vampire, then we both turned to look behind us. A wild-eyed Declan was striding across the muddy field, Stacia and Mack following him closely while Ashley Moore, her father, Jetta, their dog, and two females I didn’t recognize all watched from a freshly landed helicopter.

“What the hell did you guys do to my computer,” Declan demanded, another ball of fire forming on his hand. Then it sputtered out and his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell like a timbering tree right onto his face.

“About time,” Stacia said, looking concerned and relieved. She scooped him up and looked at us for a second. “Anymore of those big fuckers?”

We both turned to our witch support team. Isabelle and her partner were frozen, eyes open so wide, they almost glowed white in the firelight. “Well?” Stacia asked them, impatient.

“Ah, not yet,” the other witch, whose name was Leah, said.

“Okay then. Where I can put him to rest? He’s about completely burnt out, going through magic withdrawal and panicking over Omega,” Stacia said.

“Burned out? He just nuked every monster in sight!” I said.

“No, he just fought a running battle with the Queen of Winter and about a hundred and fifty men and ogres, then went toe-to-toe with both queens and a dragon, opened three portals through reality, and then nuked your problem,” Mack said.

“You have some stories to tell,” I stated.

“So, it would seem, do you,” Stacia said. “Got a cot somewhere?” she asked, hefting the unconscious witch in her arms for emphasis.

Five minutes later we were in our field tent, which was thankfully quite large because it was suddenly very crowded.

The group from Fairie were all there, as well as almost all of our group, Senka, a big group of the witches, Lydia, Nika, Deckert, and an almost-healed Arkady. Declan was sacked out, dead to the world on an army cot about ten feet from where we sat. That was the farthest distance Stacia would allow him to be from her while he was defenseless.

“So that’s about it,” Mack said, wrapping up a retelling of their time off-planet.

“He claimed a territory on Fairie?” Lydia asked.

“He had to. Without the power boost the land fed him, he wouldn’t have been able to stand up the queens and a full-grown dragon at once,” Stacia said.

“He beat them?” Tanya asked.

“Mopped the floor with them,” Jetta said.

“Group effort, as the team kept the elves and their pets off him, but yeah, he beat the shit outta them,” Ian said.

“That, ah, new fire spell was impressive,” I said. The witches stopped breathing and leaned forward.

“He just came up with it after the dragon breathed on us. I think what you saw was the last of the energy he harvested from that,” Stacia said.

“He got all that power from just being on the planet?” Ryanne asked.

“Fairie is saturated with magic. He said it was like being drunk continuously. I expect he’ll have some withdrawal issues, but he’ll feel better here. It left him sleepless and made him almost manic the whole time we were there. And no, you all can’t go there to play in the magic. The queens forbade witches hundreds of years ago, and he got in on a technicality. They won’t go for it a second time. You’d all be killed on sight,” Stacia said.

“But it’s so not fair. He’s already so powerful and then he got even more so,” Tami said.

“While he was there. Back here, he’s the same as he was before he left,” Stacia said.

“You’re kidding?” Tami said. “He just used a spell I’ve never even heard of to blow those monsters all to shit!”

“If he learned new stuff, it was because he was improvising on the fly. You know… like he does in Wytch War all the time. The power was left over from surviving the death strike of a twenty-ton dragon the size of a tractor trailer. He spent it. You want to trot over to Fairie, then open yourself a cross-dimensional portal, hop over, fight a dragon, and come on back. We’ll wait here,” Stacia said. “Been there, watched that, don’t intend to do it again.”

“You mentioned portals… you said he opened them?” Isabelle asked, still shy but obviously unwilling to let it slide.

“Yup. He had to in order to get Mack and Jetta back. Some of the elves taught him,” Ashley said. “It wasn’t easy and it took enormous amounts of magic, but if we survive this zombie thing you all got going on, maybe he’ll teach you. Hell, he should probably be an instructor at Arcane anyway.”

I looked at Tanya and felt like face palming. I hate when I miss really obvious shit. She nodded, then turned back to the group. It was a thought for much later.

“Speaking of which, what the hell is going on?” Mack asked.

Lydia ran through a surprisingly concise summary of the alien assault, even pulling up some videos on her tablet to show them just what we’d been facing.

The strange little girl who had come back from Fairie with them started to pull on Jetta’s shirt, speaking in a strange language, parts of which sounded almost familiar.

“Slower, Aylin. I don’t understand,” Jetta said. “Our interpreter is out of commission.”

“She’s asking about seeds, I think,” Senka said. “At least that’s what I think. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard old English, and it seems to be mixed with some dialect of Scottish Gaelic.”

“Oh! These seeds?” Jetta asked, pulling a Ziploc baggie from her pocket and handing it to the girl, Aylin.

It looked like a bunch of chia seeds, little black specks. The girl shook the baggie and pointed at the video, which a moment ago had startled her badly when the tablet started playing. Her flailing hand touched the screen and it went to the home screen, leaving her even more frustrated.

Jetta calmed her with a couple of pats and a few words I couldn’t understand, then took Lydia’s tablet and backed the video up by touch. Aylin started pointing and speaking as the pictures changed and Jetta froze the spot.

It was a closeup of a black-armored monster. Aylin pointed at the screen, then shook the baggie.

“She says it is the same as the blades?” Senka suggested, frowning at her own translation.

“The Black Frost blades?” Stacia asked.

Aylin started nodding. Then turned to Senka and started speaking, deliberately slowing her speech.

“She says the creatures are related to these Black Frost blades. Says the seeds will kill them,” Senka said.

“My advice is to listen to anything she says. She has a magical gift with herbs, plants, and biology. She and her mother escaped from Queen Morrigan’s labs. She had firsthand knowledge of the Black Frost organism and killed a living piece of it that was stuck in Dec’s arm. She used those seeds,” Stacia said, pointing at the baggie.

“So what do we do?” I asked.

The girl, Aylin, might not understand our words but she got the gist of our body language just fine. She shook the seeds and looked around, her eyes lighting on a Nalgene water bottle. Picking it up and shaking it, she got frustrated with the top. Jetta, who was obviously the most familiar with the girl, stepped over and showed her how to unscrew the lid. A moment was lost as Aylin marveled over the simple container, then she dumped the water out on the ground. She said a word and looked around at us expectantly.

“She’s looking for strong water,” Senka said. “I’m thinking liquor.”

“On it,” Lydia said, disappearing with a pop of displaced air. Aylin’s eyes got wide and she looked in a panic at her mother, who was suddenly covered in spots. Jetta patted her hand and reassured her. Lydia was back twenty seconds later, a big yellowish pot in her little hands. “Baijiu,” she said. “Like Chinese vodka. Some of the troops had it hidden away, but I noticed them drinking it the other night.”

Jetta led Aylin over to the tiny vampire and when Lydia handed her the big jug, Aylin almost dropped it as the weight hit her hands. She gave Lydia another bug-eyed look even as Jetta caught and steadied it. Taking the lid off, she sniffed, grimaced, and nodded. Holding the empty water bottle, she waved at Jetta to pour. When the bottle was half full, she pulled it away. Then she sat down on the ground and began to count seeds into the bottle. When she got to eight, she considered the mixture, nodded to herself, and screwed the lid back on, tickled as hell with the cap.

Then she shook it up vigorously before turning and throwing it to me, speaking as she did.

“She says the strong water will pull out the essence of the seed faster than water. A splash on each creature should be plenty,” Senka translated.

“A splash? Just spill our cocktails on those things and it will do what? Poison them?” Lydia asked.

“It melted the Black Frost blade right down into liquid,” Stacia said. “Thing was trying to cut Declan’s arm off from inside him. She used those seeds and her own saliva to save him,” Stacia said, waving a hand at the bandage on her sleeping boyfriend’s arm. “Chewed them up, spit the whole mess onto his wound, and the damned blade just turned into black tar.”

“I guess we give it a try,” I said, hefting the water bottle in my hand.

“You’ll have your chance in like three or four minutes,” Leah the witch said, holding a charmed pendulum over her palm. “You’ve got five inbound.”

Chapter 29

China, Earth

Mack stood back from the action, his rifle propped on a gun rack, waiting for the monsters to appear. Tanya made them all put their long guns down, explaining that they were worse than useless against the alien zombie things, as the bullets just bounced off them and ricocheted around, endangering everyone else.

Chris stood by himself, maybe twenty or thirty yards from the jungle. Tanya was fifteen feet behind him. She had both swords out, but Chris just stood with the water bottle in one hand, posture alert but relaxed. Like he was waiting for a pizza to be delivered.

Then the jungle burst apart and something tall and massive shot out of the greenery. Chris disappeared, moving so fast that Mack’s eyes couldn’t keep up with him. The giant slammed to a halt like it hit a concrete wall, stopped cold by the God Hammer’s outstretched left hand, then screeched a completely out of place high-pitched squeal when Chris splashed it with seed liquor. Two more black missiles rocketed out of the forest but Chris slapped a wet hand on the head of one, while Tanya attacked the other.

The first monster was shuddering and shaking in place and then it just began to melt down, black oily liquid running down its body to pool in the dirt.

Two more came racing out but this time both Chris and his vampire bride had wet their hands with the Fairie plant fluid.

Forty seconds later, the final zombie puddled out on the ground. Chris looked at Tanya and then at the rest of them, his amazement easily visible across the wide kill zone.

“It must cause a cascading chain reaction,” the vampire Lydia had introduced as Doctor Singh said, head tilted in fascination. “Total degradation of the nano organisms.”

“How many seeds do we have left, and how do we get more?” Chris asked.

“The CDC field lab is working with Chinese national scientists to isolate the active ingredient. Aylin and her mother are germinating a dozen seeds to get seedlings started so we can grow our own. That leaves exactly sixteen seeds for us to make more zombie killer,” Lydia said. “Plus what you have left.”

“Which, if we’re careful, can kill a lot of zombies. You just need a wet hand. A cloth would be even better,” Tanya said. “We need to get this into the hands of everyone around the perimeter.”

“Any more on radar?” Chris asked Leah, who was manning her detection pendulum.

“There are four, but they’re moving away. Headed north,” Leah said.

“They likely heard these others screeching,” Tanya said. “They’ll try to break out through the fire.”

The Chinese Air Force had kept up the firebombing to the north of the village while deep bomb craters, filled with flaming oil on the west and east, had blocked their exits, leaving the southern path as the only viable route to the city and a vulnerable, infectable population. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the monsters viewed those barriers as more desirable than the highly effective Quisp plant solution.

“Get all the witches up and ready,” Tanya said. “We’ll spread them on the eastern and western sides while the vampires move north from here. We’ll drive them into the bombing zone or burn them up in the craters.”

“She really does love to exploit a weakness,” Chris said in an aside to Mack.

“I’ll coordinate with the Air Force controllers. We can’t have any lapses in the napalm runs,” Lydia said.

“You want to help the witches?” Chris asked Mack. “Nika and Stacia have Declan under watch, but from what you all said, I think he’ll sleep right through it. Unless you have any ideas about Omega?”

Mack felt the eyes of pretty much everyone focus in on him. The witches on duty were new and didn’t know him all that well, and only a few of the vampires were familiar from his short stays at Demidova tower. So he was reluctant to open his mouth but couldn’t see a way out of saying what he knew he had to say.

“I think someone should track down Caeco’s whereabouts and probably get her on a plane,” Mack said.

Absolute silence greeted his words. It lasted seven heartbeats, then Lydia spoke. “What’s going through that diabolical mind of yours?” she asked.

“Caeco has actual, viable nanites in her blood. Dec was infected with a few once and I think it helped him with the whole machine connection he has. It might help him connect with Omega when he wakes up,” Mack said, totally aware he was letting some of Declan’s cats out of their bags.

“You are a font of information,” Lydia said, looking thoughtful. “What else?”

“He may need some of the witches to help him,” Mack said. “He’s coming down off a Fairie power high and I know things take a lot more power here on Earth. A circle might help him bridge whatever is happening with Omega.”

“You’re not a witch. How would you know what he needs?” Isabelle asked, more curious than accusatory.

“Just because I can’t actually perform the Craft doesn't mean I don’t know a lot about it. I’ve had some really good teachers,” Mack said.

“Like who?” a new voice asked. Ryanne had approached from behind him.

“Please… I room with Declan. We practically live at his aunt’s most weekends, and I’ve had lots of conversations with your fellow witches. Anyway, you asked, I told,” Mack said, directing his final sentence to Lydia, Chris, and Tanya.

“And we hear. Anything else?” Tanya asked.

“Yeah, you need to let the Water witches use that seed solution. They can get it on the zombie things without wasting a drop,” Mack said, nodding at Ryanne and Leah.

“Hell yeah!” Leah said. She shoved her pendulum at Isabelle and rubbed her hands together. “Let’s melt these bitches.”

Chris and Tanya looked at her, bemused, then turned back to Mack.

“We had a similar thought. Okay, let’s do this,” Tanya said, taking the seed solution and pouring a portion into a coffee cup, which she handed to Ryanne. She poured another amount into a red plastic party cup and handed it to Leah.

“Okay, you two head into position. Ryanne—west, Leah—east,” Tanya said. “We’ll go when the rest of the witches get here. Mack, you want to go with Ryanne?”

He nodded and took the old-school walkie talkie that Chris handed him. Then, with a glance at the Irish Water witch, he turned and began walking toward the west flank.

She caught up to him in a couple of steps and they were both silent for a time. “So. You were on Fairie, were you?” she asked.

He nodded.

“What’s it like?” she asked.

“It’s very earth-like in some ways and very not in others. The sun is reddish. Gravity is similar. More than one moon. Trees look a little different but there are some familiar kinds, like pine and spruce. And lots of weird Fairie shit, like clouds of tinks and pucks, those nasty ape-like goblins, and some animals that died out on this planet a long time ago. Velociraptors. Can you believe it? We saw a pack of velociraptors,” he said.

“Yer damned lucky to have experienced that,” she said.

“I guess. Part of the time it didn’t feel very lucky. But I was pretty sure Declan would come and find us,” Mack said.

“Kid’s been busy since I left Arcane,” she said.

“Yeah, no shit. But stuff just kind of happens around him. Like he’s a foci for the universe or something,” Mack said.

“And he was even more powerful over there, was he?” she asked, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She really was extremely pretty.

“Yes. It hit him as soon as we landed on the planet. He had to be really, really careful,” he said.

“Careful? Of what? He could spend power like it was water. What did he have to be careful of?” she asked.

“Let’s say you got bit by a radioactive spider and got super strong. Wouldn’t you have to learn how to do day-to-day things all over again? Open doors without breaking the knob or tearing the door off? You know, not standing up too fast or you put your head right through the ceiling?” he asked. “It was like that.”

“So he had to be careful with spells. Big deal,” she said.

“Okay, let’s try this. You drink half a bottle of Jameson’s then try and handle all the crystal in a china shop with your new superhuman strength.”

“First of all, I’m Irish. We all drink half a bottle of Jameson’s for breakfast,” she smirked, obviously joking. “But you’re saying it made him drunk, did it?”

“In a very real way, yes. It also made him kind of a little crazy. And he couldn’t get away from it. You get drunk, you put the liquor down and sleep it off. This doesn’t sleep off. There is no sobering up. You’re sloshed, twenty-four-seven. For the whole trip.”

“And then he laid claim to some land or some rot?” she asked, eyes bright.

“Not some land. A third of the continent,” he said. “It was some kind of bonding thing. Like the land itself is aware. Like it was looking for a powerful witch to make a deal with,” he said.

“What kind of deal are ye talking about?” she asked.

“I don’t really know. He made it to get the juice to fight the queens, but then we jumped the hell outta there,” he said.

“Seems like the land got a bit of the sharp end of the stick on that one,” she said.

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that as well,” he said. She looked at him like she wanted him to keep talking. Instead, he waved around them. “Looks like we’re here.”

She looked where he was indicating, seeing the row of tanks and armored personnel carriers. There were gun nests dug in between every third tank, but the troops had automatic grenade launchers instead of machine guns. The soldiers were all looking at them. Mack suddenly felt awkward, but Ryanne just marched up to the most obvious-looking officer.

“We’re here if any of those things break out this way,” she said, holding up the mug like it was the biggest gun on the line. Knowing men, and soldiers in particular, he expected them to laugh them off, ignore her or order them off the line, or make some stupid comment in Chinese about how pretty she was. Instead, the officer gave her a bow and then turned and tore into his men, sending a couple scurrying up and down the line. “We take your direction,” the officer said slowly.

“Brilliant. Hopefully those things will just stay inside the forest and die when Chris and Tanya kick their bloody fecking asses,” she said.

“They’re pretty nasty? The zombie things?” Mack asked.

“You can’t freaking kill them ya dummy. Have to burn them to ash, ya do. Bullets either bounce off or just pass through them. They heal all wounds, like even a decapitated head, and they’re fast and super strong, ya know. Before you blokes showed up with those fierce seeds, we had to burn the lot of them. They killed a lot of soldiers and some witches too,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, seeing she was truly horrified by the things.

That’s when one of the monsters rushed out of the jungle and jumped the crater. The soldiers started yelling and Mack turned to see a massive dark thing splash down into the burning oil three quarters of the way across.

Faster than he would have believed possible, it rushed out of the pit, covered in oil and still burning. Two soldiers stepped up out of their foxhole and fired a round each from their grenade launchers. One missed his shot completely, the other one landing a grenade at the thing’s feet. The explosion blew out the fire on it but did nothing to slow it down. It chopped a backhanded blow that cut one soldier’s head right off his body and then brought its arm down on the other one’s soldier, slicing his arm clean off.

Machine gun fire started but the bullets just bounced off it, the stray rounds pinging off tank armor and blasting dirt off the ground. Mack grabbed Ryanne by the back of her jeans and pulled the witch behind the fender of an armored personnel carrier. Two rounds spanged off the carrier’s steel hide right where they had been standing.

“Can you get the water on it?” Mack asked, popping his head out to keep track of the thing. She didn’t respond. He glanced her way, saw the shock in her eyes, and snapped his fingers in her face. “Ryanne! The solution—you have to use it,” he said, getting right up in her face.

She shoved him away in reflex, but he’d achieved his effect. She focused on him, then the mug. He looked out again. The zombie had a soldier over its head with both arms, then it pulled the man down, splitting him on its diamond-sharp head.

He reached over and pulled her out next to him. She was breathing fast and shaking, but she’d started to mumble under her breath. Reaching into his shirt, he pulled out an amulet that wasn’t one of Declan’s. It was something he’d traded Erika’s sister, Britta, for. Made of twigs and bound with grape vines, it was shaped like a star. Snapping its cord, he jammed it against Ryanne’s bare left arm.

She jolted with shock, but her words firmed up and her finger made a flicker gesture with authority. A ball of solution shot from the mug and rocketed at the monster. The thing turned, somehow sensing the liquid missile, but even its greater-than-human speed couldn’t save it. Ryanne’s water bomb went where her finger pointed and her finger was locked on the crystal creature’s body like a radar. The sphere of fluid splashed the thing and that was all she wrote. It screeched once, the sound cut off as the head, neck, and chest turned to black oil, collapsing and running down the torso. Mack had seen Declan melt down a wax figure once with a gesture. This was similar, but faster, the reaction unbelievably quick.

In seconds it was gone, just a puddle of midnight goo on the ground.

“You have any left?” Mack asked, watching the jungle across the crater.

“A couple of drops, that’s all,” Ryanne said. She was touching the personnel carrier’s front, her fingers dancing over the copper smear where a bullet had bounced off.

She looked up at him. “I’m thinking you’ve saved me a perforation or two,” she said.

“Might of hit either of us… or both,” he said, still watching the woods, aware that she was watching him.

“We always wondered about you and your sister, we did. Not witches, not weres, no magic at all. Why did he hang around you so? But you’re good at this, aren’t you?”she asked.

“This?” he asked.

“Fighting these fecking shite gobs,” she said, empty hand waving around for emphasis. “Yer savagely sound about it too.”

“Not sure what that is but yeah, we have some experience with big bad nasties,” he said. “No magic though.”

“But what was that thing? Looks like something the Boklund girls would wrap together,” she said, pointing at the wooden star.

“I paid Britta to make it. It gathers energy and stores it. I thought you might need a boost,” he said.

“A boost? A boost, he says,” she said, turning to a Chinese soldier who definitely didn’t understand her words. “Ye about blasted me out of my knickers.”

He couldn’t stop the smile that formed all on its own. “Now that would be a sight,” he said.

She waved him off, but he caught a smile flickering across her face. His radio crackled and Lydia’s voice came through. “Watch out, Mack. One was headed your way. Over.”

“Now you tell us?” he questioned, making his eyes widen in disbelief for his partner’s benefit. She snorted.

“Did you see it? Over.”

“Ryanne melted it into pudding,” he said into the radio. “Over.”

“Well good on ya then,” the little vampire said in a perfect Irish accent. “Over.”

It wasn’t that funny, and there were dead soldiers lying within yards of them, but they both laughed, at least a little. Then they saw a group of witches running toward them.

“We’ve got more zombicide,” Erika said as the group got closer. “Michele and a couple of Earth witches got the seeds to grow and that girl from Fairie said the new leaves would work as well. What happened here?”

They pointed at the bodies and the puddle of goop, watching the witches figure out the story for themselves.

After that, it was about four hours of total boredom while they listened to the chatter on the radios as the God Hammer and Night Angel visited their wrath on the last holdouts. Then it was done and every single witch took a try at zombie detection, but they were all gone.

Chapter 30

Chris

Rome, Italy

Twenty-one hours after the battle ended, we were back in Italy. Declan had woken up after about five hours of bed coma and started trying to contact his AI. When he got nowhere, he flipped out a bit, getting up in my face till Stacia and Mack pulled him back. I didn’t blame him. He was still exhausted and he looked like hell; like he’d just broken a fever or something. He almost immediately apologized and then listened as Mack and Chet gave him their collective ideas for contacting Omega.

The main point that caught his attention was getting into the same room with one of Omega’s quantum processors. They had made dozens of them, salting them around the planet for safety and redundancy. Turns out there was one in downtown Rome, stored under a family-owned sandwich shop in Trastevere.

So an entire convoy of cars descended on this little hip neighborhood and took over the whole deli. Mack, his sister, nine of the original Arcane witches, Declan, Stacia, myself, Tanya, Chet, and a smattering of Deckert’s people, escorted by Italian authorities and military.

People stopped, pointed, and filmed with their cell phones. Declan was so crazed with worry, he never even noticed. He went straight to the counter, handed the older mama behind the register a little plastic card from his wallet, and watched her face go white. Then she was leading the whole posse downstairs and through a door marked employees only, down a hall, and then down more stairs into yet another sub-basement. There she stopped at a very modern steel door with a set of extremely high-tech biometric scanners in the place I would have expected a keypad to be.

The door opened as soon as Declan approached it.

“Behavior ID?” Chet asked.

“Yeah, self-contained microcomputer. It runs its own algorithm,” Declan said.

“Set to just you?” Chet asked.

“Hmmm,” Declan said, not really answering. Chet shot me a look, then glanced meaningfully at Stacia and Mack, who were watching as Declan ducked around the still-opening door.

“Makes sense,” Tanya said, voice normal. Stacia would hear even a whisper, but she didn’t know what my vampire was telling me outside of her words. Omega’s doors would likely open only to a very select few people, and all of them were probably right here and most of them probably didn’t know it.

We followed Chet through the door and found an ancient room with a very modern industrial steel table, heavy duty backup batteries, and some heavy duty power cables running to a stainless steel cube on the table. The cube was two feet to a side.

Declan had both hands on the cube and his eyes were closed in concentration.

After fifteen seconds, he opened his eyes, blew out his breath, and shifted his hands around.

Mack was watching his roommate with his head slightly tilted. “He’s there but you can’t talk to him?” he asked.

“I should be able to reach him,” Declan said.

“He’s fighting for his life. You’re gonna need a way to boost into him,” Mack said, waving at the nine wide-eyed witches.

“I don’t know, Mack. I just don’t know,” Declan said, glancing at the girls then back at Omega’s cube.

Mack turned and looked us meaningfully.

Tanya cleared her throat and, when all eyes were on her, she smile apologetically at Stacia and then spoke. “Caeco will be arriving in Fiumicino airport in about an hour. I took the liberty of bringing her over.”

“Why?” Stacia asked, head snapping around, eyes already starting to yellow.

“Because I told them about the nanos,” Mack said.

“Say what?” Stacia asked.

“Caeco has nanites. Declan got some in him one time, right D?” Mack asked.

“Back when we were in the silo with Toni,” Declan said, looking thoughtful.

“And they helped you connect with computers and shit before they died out, right?” Mack pressed.

“You know… that might work,” Declan said.

Stacia had her arms crossed and her gaze leveled at the two boys. “And just how did you get these nano things inside you?”

“We were in the jail cells. Some of her blood dripped into my mouth,” Declan said, watching his werewolf carefully. “You see…” he started to explain, but Stacia whipped up one hand, palm toward him.

“Don’t care. Don’t want to know. I’m interested in how you plan to get these things into your system this time?”

“I don’t know. Draw some blood, swab some saliva, whatever,” he said. “The question isn’t how she would deliver them, it’s will she? We didn’t part on particularly good terms and our last interaction in Vegas was… bad.”

“Yeah, I saw,” Stacia said. “I’m still interested in the how.”

“Hey, let’s all get some food while we wait,” I said, glancing at my vampire. She gave me a little nod and a shrug. I might only speak English but I can read Tanya pretty well. She thought the food was a decent, if short-lived, distraction and was thinking the nano thing with Caeco was going to be dicey.

So we got sandwiches all around. Newly baked focaccia bread, slick with olive oil, prosciutto so fresh I wanted to slap it, and layers of provolone. No mayo, no mustard, no lettuce or tomato, nothing extra at all. I ate four of them, Stacia had three, and the boys each ate two. Everyone else, including the soldiers, had one, except Tanya of course. She got the honor of paying. The mama at the register was torn at taking her money. Here the most famous people in the world were snacking in her deli, but the bill was probably almost a whole day’s take. My vampire charmed her into accepting payment, keeping up a smooth patter of questions and complements while we ate. A crowd had formed outside the deli and when the Alfa Romeo carrying Caeco arrived, the police escort had a bit of a time getting through.

Declan’s old girlfriend hadn’t come alone. Agent Krupp got out of the car with her, following as the girl marched into the small, crowded deli and up to Tanya and myself, completely ignoring Declan.

“You asked me to come. Said it was urgent. What’s up?” Caeco asked my vampire, giving me a nod before focusing on Tanya.

“We need to get through to the AI, Omega. It’s being attacked and if it loses, we lose. You’ve been briefed on the flight over regarding the enemy we all face?” Tanya asked.

Caeco nodded slowly, glancing back at Krupp. When she turned back, her face showed understanding. Declan always said she was a really smart girl.

“They’ve found some way to hack what’s supposed to be un-hackable. Probably through the entangled particles on Omega’s drones. Not supposed to be possible, but what do we know—none of their tech seems particularly possible. Oh! You need me! No, he needs me,” Caeco said, glancing for the first time at Declan. Her expression was calculating as she turned back to Tanya. An odd glint appeared in her eyes and I felt Grim pay sudden attention.

“I’ll do it—but?” the young assassin said.

“But what?” Tanya asked.

“I’m not giving blood or spitting into a cup. He wants it, he has to pay the price,” Caeco said.

“What price?” I asked, picturing her beating the shit out of our witch.

“A kiss,” Caeco said with absolutely no emotional inflection.

The growl was instant and when I looked at Stacia, her eyes were full yellow. She was a split second from wolfing out. I sidestepped twice, putting myself next to her.

“That, ah, seems unlike you,” Tanya said, puzzled. “You understand what’s at stake?”

“I understand a lot of things that I didn’t used to,” she said. “Call it a sheltered childhood.”

Yeah, the kind that teaches you to kill grown men a thousand different ways.

“And this meets some need you have for vengeance or pride?” Tanya asked, eyes narrowed at the girl.

“It does many things. It is also the closest replication of the first dose of nanites Declan got from me. My nanites don’t live long outside my body. Shouldn’t you try to achieve the highest possible chance of a positive outcome?” Caeco said.

“We could just take them from your blood,” Stacia offered.

“You probably could, what with all this talent. But people would get hurt, possibly die. I would go down fighting,” Caeco said, her stance deceptively easy.

Grim read the very, very slight tension in her frame, the way she let her eyes go slightly unfocused. She would fight back. Well.

“We will not take anything from you,” Tanya said, looking aside at Stacia. “This is not the place or time for hurt feelings, jealousy, or rage. It’s a simple kiss. Declan, you want access to her nanites, I suggest you pay her price,” Tanya said, moving over near me, which put her on Stacia’s other side.

Declan’s face looked like he was seeing his own death… in 3D. White as a sheet (or Lydia, and she’s damned pale even for a vamp), and just a tiny bead of sweat forming on his brow.

He glanced at Stacia, whose jaw was clenched. She studied him back and then blew out a breath. “Fucking games. Fine. Pay the price and let’s get Omega back online,” she said.

I wasn’t excited about the way her jaw kept clenching. Caeco was playing with fire. A mated wolf will fight to the death for her mate and as deadly as Caeco was, I don’t think she’d ever tangled with a were like Stacia. I remembered hearing that Caeco had beat up a few of the teen weres at Arcane. Even the biggest ones wouldn’t hold a candle to Stacia, whose training had been at Tanya’s completely ungentle hands.

Declan was frozen, eyes now narrowed at Caeco, who looked expectantly back at him. Finally he moved toward her, hands down at his sides.

The thing about witches is that they don’t really have any obvious giveaways. I switched vision, looking with my Sight. His body was covered in black, the color of magic to my eyes. He was going in armored in case she attacked him. So much for romance in this moment.

When he leaned in for the kiss, it was like two combatants shaking hands before a knockout round. His eyes were focused on her and clouds of black hovered over and around him, his magic coiled and deadly. Did she know he was fresh from battle? That less then thirty hours ago he’d battled the forces of another world—and apparently won.

Her move was fast, faster than human. He was an inch from her lips when Caeco’s hand snaked up and grabbed his head, pulling him in for a real lip lock. Her hand slipped though, sliding off his invisible force field.

Tanya and I moved as one, grabbing Stacia as she bolted for the engineered assassin. We almost couldn’t hold her, but by then, the action was over. Declan ducked away and Caeco was suddenly pinned to the wall, six feet off the ground, right over a table above a pair of customers who were frozen in shock.

To her credit, she just smirked at him. “The correct response is thank you,” she said, ignoring the raging werewolf who was almost dragging both Tanya and my Posted feet right off the ground. We were connected to the ancient wooden floor and the boards were threatening to break.

Declan wiped his mouth and moved over to his werewolf, taking one of her hands in his. He stared at Caeco, then waved a hand. She floated over and down, light as a feather. “Thank you. It’s important,” he said, turning and heading toward the back room and the staircase down. Stacia allowed him to pull her with him, but her snarling glance over her shoulder was expressively clear.

“Hey, guys, he’s gonna need you too,” Mack said to the witches, who were, for the most part, delighted to have front row seats to the free show.

Tami was the first to follow, then Britta and Zuzanna. Michelle, Paige, Jael, and Erika seemed reluctant to go, but finally left. Ryanne was last, her face thoughtful as she took one last look at Caeco. That left Jetta, who was looking at Caeco with a frown.

“What, roomie? Sorry—ex-roomie,” Caeco said.

“You good? Did that give you what you needed?” Jetta asked.

“Maybe it did,” Caeco said. “Something you wanna say about it?”

Jetta’s face froze for a second, then she laughed. A laugh filled with delighted disbelief. “You have no idea. None. Thanks for coming, Caeco. Your gift may be the answer,” she said. She started for the room in the rear, then stopped and turned back. “He’s different. It wouldn’t work. Stick with the Bureau,” she said, waving a hand in Krupp’s direction. Then she was gone, following the others.

Krupp, who looked a little pale, turned to her protégé. “Was that necessary?”

“It was. It was on my terms, not his,” Caeco said, her tone steady although she wore the tiniest of furrows between her eyes.

“Maybe. But it was extremely reckless, Caeco,” Tanya said. “Jetta was correct. You have no idea what he’s been through or what he’s turned into. That could have gone… poorly. Which would be a shame, because we would miss you. Now, Agent Krupp, we have reserved excellent accommodations for you at one of the best hotels in Rome, on us. When you’re ready, first class seats will be available to take you both home.”

“That’s all?” Krupp asked.

“I sincerely hope so, Agent. For all our sakes,” my vampire answered. Looking unsatisfied, Krupp led her deadly junior agent out of the deli to the waiting car.

I made sure it pulled away before heading down to the basement, holding Tanya’s hand.

Chapter 31

Trastevere, Italy

Mack watched carefully as his buddy drew a Craft circle around the table holding the cube-like processor. A string was tied to one table leg, giving him a proper compass for his chalk, and he took his time to get it exact. Then he started adding runes and Mack saw some new ones that he was pretty sure were Elvish. As he finished the runes on each arc, he would point to one of the witches and direct her to sit where he pointed. Each witch was specifically chosen, her spot apparently customized for her alone. The girls didn’t miss that point. They were avidly studying the combinations he’d crafted and watching every move he made.

A pattern emerged. Air witches clustered on the western arc, Water witches on the east, Fire seated south and finally, Michele, the only Earth witch, was seated on Declan’s left side as he took the northernmost cardinal point.

“What’s the drill?” Tami asked.

“We hold hands and everyone pushes energy widdershins,”Declan said.

“That will move it around the circle, but it won’t help you power up,” Tami said.

“Yes and no. The idea here isn’t the standard drain-all-the-juice-you-can and feed it to one witch,” Declan said, nodding to Chris and Tanya as they came in.

“Where do the rest of us stand?” Chris asked.

“Against the wall by Mack. If anything goes wonky, listen to him. He knows the drill. Stacia, you sit behind me, close, but not touching,” Declan said.

“Why? I’m not a witch,” she asked.

“You’re his ground. If he runs into trouble, your touch will bring him back,” Mack said.

Declan nodded and pointed at his roommate. “And he’ll tell you if that’s necessary. I hope not, but best to be prepared.”

“Wait. This setup trims power from the circle every time it makes a rotation and feeds it to you, but it never pulls directly from us? You’re the only one taking a risk here, aren’t you?” Britta asked.

“Exactly. This is the way circles should work. You only risk one, and then only in very controlled circumstances with some precautions as backup,” Declan said, reaching back to pat Stacia’s knee.

“And just how will Mack be knowing if yer in trouble?” Ryanne asked.

“He’ll know. He’s watched over me lots of times and he can pretty much read my body language. Also, besides his sister, he’s the luckiest person I’ve ever met,” Declan said.

“Seriously? You’re going with luck?” Erika asked.

“Roll dice with him sometime,” Declan said.

“Yeah, Erika, how about strip dice?” Mack said, more to get under her skin than for any real interest.

She just arched an eyebrow like she was considering it.

“Okay, everybody ready? Anyone need to hit the bathroom before we start? No breaks,” Declan said.

“Shouldn’t be too taxing on us, warlock,” Zuzanna said. “You’ve got the risky job.”

“Then let’s get to it,” Declan said, grabbing the hands on either side of him, which were Michelle and Britta’s. The others followed suit and then all nine closed their eyes and relaxed into their spots.

Within a few minutes, they all started to breathe in and out at the same time, automatically synchronizing

Tanya tapped Mack’s shoulder and raised her eyebrows in question. He looked over the circle and noticed Stacia’s worried eyes locked on to him.

“We can whisper; it shouldn’t bother them. They’re all deep into it now,” he said.

“What’s happening?” Tanya asked.

“Each witch is taking energy in through their left hand, passing it through their core, and then pushing it out their right hands. Each adds a tiny bit every time, except Declan, who is taking a tiny bit as it passes through him. Nobody gets overtaxed and nobody is in danger. It’s related to the portal protocol he learned on Fairie. We talked about it on the plane ride back to Rome,” Mack said. “When he’s added a pretty good amount to his own deep reserves, he’ll try projecting himself into the cube. The nanites should let him connect to the cube and therefore to Omega.”

“How does that help Omega?” Chet asked.

“Declan created those quantum circuits with magic. Omega is part magic and Dec is, in a very real way, his creator. He’ll likely join his power to Omega and give him a boost. It’s possible he can actually attack the enemy with his magic.”

“You think it will do much good?” Chet asked.

“Declan has told me about the night Omega was born. When he got trapped in the quantum matrix along with the Book of Darkest Sorrow, he could see the NSA algorithm and could direct spells against it. That was then. He’s grown a lot since then.”

“But he’s not wielding the power he had in Fairie,” Tanya pointed out.

“That’s why he’s harvesting extra power from the ladies,” Jetta said.

“He was forced to learn a lot of new things on Fairie. The portal lessons were pretty intense,” Stacia whispered.

“When will he start?” Chris asked.

“He already has. Watch his eyelids. That’s not rapid eye movement. He’s visualizing Omega’s attacker,” Mack said.

“Apparently I am too. Is that black mold on the cube?” Jetta asked.

Sure enough, a creeping tide of black crud was covering two-thirds of the metal cube.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Chris asked.

“The magic is high. It’s our brains interpreting the assault. Like how we watch a video game on a monitor,” Mack said.

“Look, you can see the battle,” Tanya said, pointing.

The uneven line of black moved, if you looked close, back and forth, gaining and losing, all around the metal box.

“What does it look like to your Sight, my zayka?” Tanya asked Chris.

“Oddly, the colors are all reversed. I always see magic as black, so I can see a river of blackness circling around the nine of them and a thick rope of black extending from Declan into Omega’s cube. The mold looks like white frost to me in this vision,” Chris reported.

They fell silent, watching the battles play out across the metal surfaces. Mack noticed that the black tide had been pushed back till it covered only half the box, but it was stubbornly refusing to give more ground. He racked his brain for something to help his friend.

“Can we help break the entanglement?” Tanya asked.

“How?” Chet asked her back. “We don’t even understand how it works.”

Mack was still thinking about Chris’s observations, his brain playing with the word frost.

“What do you think was the probability that Aylin’s remedy for Black Frost Blades would work on the aliens?” he asked.

“I think it highly likely that it’s related technology. It’s possible that Morrigan got the idea from the aliens or the aliens got the technology from her,” Tanya said.

“Kind of what I’ve been thinking. Jetta, give me your jacket, would you?” he asked.

“It won’t fit you, moron,” she said.

He just looked at her and she huffed, taking off the jacket and handing it to him. “It might not smell the best. I haven’t had a chance to wash it since we got back,” she said, glancing at the others.

“I’m counting on that,” he said, looking into the pockets of the lightweight garment. Deep in the sewn seam of one of the large pockets, he found what he was looking for.

“Is that a seed from the Quist plant?” Tanya asked as he held it up between index finger and thumb.

“Yup. They’re tiny and my sister isn’t always thorough,” he said with a grin.

“Screw you Mack,” Jetta said, arms crossed.

“Oh, you’re detailed about some things, like weapons and gear, but there was a better than even chance you’d missed one of these tiny things,” he said.

“Why are you so happy about it? What are you going to do?” Tanya asked.

“I’m going to give it to Stacia. She’s going to ever so carefully drop it into Declan’s hand,” he said, rising slowly and moving quietly over to the were girl, who looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“And that’s going to do what?” Chet asked.

“Crafting is mostly symbolic. Using representations that our brains can easily recognize to fold unrecognizable energy to the user’s wishes. We see the alien computer attack as black mold or, if Chris looks at it with his Sight, as frost. Black like the zombies and frost like Morrigan’s powers. Declan just spent time fighting Morrigan and he saw the zombies and has tangled with Frost blades several times now. I’m hoping the seed with be a new representation for him. Allow him to move the magic he’s wielding in a new way, one that is deadly to the alien computer virus,” Mack said, dropping the seed into Stacia’s hand.

He moved back to watch her gracefully lean forward, moving around her boyfriend without touching him and gently dropping the seed into Declan’s upturned right palm.

“Will he even be aware of it?” Chet asked.

“I guarantee you that he is very aware of Stacia. I mean, come on. It’s why she’s his ground. So on some level, he knows that she just did that. Now we’ll see if he can use it.”

Declan’s eyes continued to flicker, but a new frown had formed between his eyebrows. A few seconds later, it smoothed out and something very like a grin flickered across his mouth.

“Look!” Jetta said, pointing at the cube.

The black mold was in retreat, melting away. It started slowly but then gained speed, till it was pulling back so fast it was very like a frozen windshield defrosting as the car’s heater finally came up to temperature. Gradually pulling back from every part of the cube until it was suddenly gone from sight.

Nothing happened for a few seconds and they all started to exchange questioning looks. Declan’s eyes fluttered open. Around the circle, the girls’ eyes all started to open too.

“Mack, that was fecking brilliant,” Ryanne said, looking over her shoulder at him.

“You knew what he did?” Tanya asked.

“We could hear ye all, ye know. Not like we were deaf,” the Irish witch said with a smile.

“I got lucky,” Mack said.

“How often are those words muttered, I’m wondering?” Ryanne said to Britta on her left. The pretty blonde witch smirked at the multiple meanings.

He felt his face uncharacteristically flush at her words, but he turned and focused on Declan. “Well?”

“I am returned, Mack Sutton,” Omega answered from Mack’s own phone.

“Those bastards are definitely connected to Morrigan’s biological sciences,” Declan said, rubbing his face with one hand. “I think she sold them a lot of her technology, although they’ve modified it and have a bunch of their own. That organic computer is pretty fucking scary.”

“Concur. Until facing it, I had no concept of something with more computing power than I have,” Omega said.

“What is it exactly?” Chet asked.

“An organic, DNA-based molecular computing system. It has DNA strands from every species that the Vorsook have come across. Very powerful. It jumped to me from my own drone.”

“Vorsook?” Tanya asked.

“The closest we can come to the name the aliens call themselves. I have a lot of data on them, the byproduct of cyber combat.”

“That means they likely have a lot of data on us,” Chris said.

“They already did,” Declan said. “They’ve been studying us for years. All the little green men and space alien abductions.”

“So they’ve been coming here in what? Flying saucers?” Chet asked.

“Interstellar travel is too expensive in terms of resources and much too slow. Portal technology appears to be the most efficient form of travel across the vast distances of space. They do, however, have aerial craft far in advance of earth-based aircraft,” Omega said.

“Why haven’t they attacked before?” Chris asked.

“Not sure. I think they have a lot of links to Fairie though. Relationships with the elves. At least that’s the feeling I got, but I only fought for a short while. Omega?” Declan asked.

“You are correct, Father. Their access to this world was via Fairie’s portals. At least until they subsumed the TRAPPIST planet and its inhabitants, who also had ancient connections to earth. The Vorsook assimilate worlds and races into their empire, as it were. Much like the ancient Romans.”

“But never Fairie?” Chris asked.

“Apparently not. I do not know the reason for that.”

“So what do we do now?” Jetta asked.

“First I must regain what I have lost. The governments of this world have been busy in my absence. Then we must gather more information in order to prepare.”

“For what?”

“Either their attack, or… ours,” Tanya said.

“Exactly.”

Chapter 32

Chris

New York, New York, USA – Two weeks later.

We’re a stubborn species. Omega calls it temporally challenged, Tanya says short-sighted, and Lydia says we’re just plain stupid. The United Nations hearings had mixed results. Testimony by European and Chinese authorities and forensic scientists, and American CDC field observations, backed by video footage from hundreds of sources, provided compelling evidence that our world had suffered a sophisticated and terrifying attack. And there was our own testimony.

The result? The world’s leaders immediately came together—to point fingers and assign blame. Not the results we were looking for. Then came the suspicions and demands for access to the samples of the zombie infectious agents that we so carefully destroyed.

Good idea, let’s all play with the alien’s favorite weapons—uncontrollable, world-ending weapons.

So we revealed Omega to the world, taking the information beyond the UN Emergency Council and putting it into the hands of the world’s citizens, despite the almost universal government idea that widespread panic would reign.

Panic had already happened, thanks to the internet and the porous nature of information in the digital age. People had noticed the actions in Europe, and China’s efforts to keep the world from observing it bombing four of its own villages into ash failed completely. Rumors ran rampant, covering everything from the formation of a new world order to Ebola outbreaks to alien invasion. We confirmed the last one, via worldwide announcement on all news, media, and internet channels simultaneously. The world froze, the entire global village fixated on their phones, televisions, tablets, and personal computers. Omega’s message was cohesive, thorough and, oddly, inspiring. Declan’s little AI had grown, understanding human psychology so well that the knowledge of his existence and the assault by aliens was anticlimactic.

A super AI presence, capable of removing weapons of mass destruction from the hands of politicians, stable and unstable alike, had the effect of actually calming the average citizen down. It turns out people have little trust in their politicians to handle global catastrophe, but a quantum super intelligent computer who had immediately re-seized the world’s nuclear stockpile was somehow reassuring.

Don’t get me wrong. There were plenty of people preaching the Skynet-Terminator scenario, demonstrating in the streets, and more than a few headed for the hills. But one segment of talking heads pointed out the fact that we were all still alive and not slaves to a Colossus world intellect might actually be a pretty good indicator that the powerful AI wasn’t inherently hostile. And since he had the ability to circumvent every government’s attempts at media control while squelching fake news and false flag operations, the result was an unprecedented degree of news accuracy to, well, everyone.

He was immediately a worldwide resource, belonging to everyone and no one at the same time. Bigger than any one country, bigger than any one group or corporation. It had taken almost a full week for him to regain most of his previous reach and control, his digital wounds invisible to everyone, except maybe his creator. Declan had an idea of the damage done but freely admitted it was simply beyond his comprehension to know the full extent of it.

The roles played by what Jetta called Team Demidova, in the defense of the planet, along with the positive actions of the governments that had assisted were duly reported and credited, giving the world faces and names to connect their emotions to.

At their own insistence, the team from Fairie, who arguably delivered the weapon that resulted in a knock-out blow, were kept in obscurity. In fact, Omega himself insisted on hiding their involvement, having found no possible scenario where the follow-on fame would lead to anything other than tragedy and misery. They were okay with that, none of them wishing for that kind of fame.

The existence of Fairie itself, on top of the TRAPPIST aliens, was enough of a giant shock. Nothing good could come from revealing the Speaker to Dragons and the new… lord? Ruler? King of Middle Fairie?

So society reeled and shook with the revelations but held together under an almost instant faith (by most) in Omega. The fact that he could interact with virtually everyone and anyone all at once made him almost a religious entity. Type a text or email him and you’d have an answer in moments, day or night, twenty-four-seven. It was like being able to talk to God anywhere and anytime and get an actual answer.

The result was a demand for action by the world’s population and almost instant agreement by career politicians who could read the winds of change with well-honed instincts.

That was the surface. The dirty underbelly of governments’ interactions remained almost reassuringly paranoid and underhanded. We got regular reports from Omega. Spy versus spy. The sudden rebirth of the Cold War, but deeply hidden.

Another change was that we had returned to the US. Reactions were mainly positive, but there’s always some who object, sometimes violently.

Demidova Tower had been brought back to full staff and we were back in residence, keeping as low a profile as possible while society’s rumbles and quakes settled back to a dull thunder, with more security than ever before, backed by Omega’s constant omniscient watch.

Ian and Ashley had returned home to upstate New York but were due to return this very day. The rest of the Fairie team was with us in the tower. Declan’s aunt and step-aunt had joined us to allay Ashling’s fears for her nephew. She was a powerful seer and had been terrified when he went off-world. Standing between a powerful witch and her defacto child was a fool’s game, and Team Demidova weren’t no fools.

So I found myself amused to watch Declan holding Wulf with a natural comfort, while his carnivorous girlfriend looked decidedly less sure about holding Cora.

“You never babysat for anyone?” he asked, incredulous. “What about Toni?”

“There weren’t any babies in my immediate circle of friends and family when I was growing up,” she said, a touch defensive. “And Toni was like eight when I met her. Cora is just a few months old.”

“It’s only for the reason that I made ye look after some of the waitresses’ wee ones that ya feel yer such an expert, lad,” Ashling said. It was the second or third time she had risen to a light defense of Stacia, who had no need of the help but seemed to relish it nonetheless. Aunt Ashling was growing fond of her boy’s girl.

“I’m no expert, but it’s not rocket science. Right Wulf?” he asked my baby boy. The most powerful witch in existence, feared on at least two worlds, and he was making baby talk to my kid.

“Ian and Ashley Moore are in the building. They are accompanied by an elf of the Winter Court. He is unarmed and under guard by both Demidova security as well as two of my more capable drone units. Ian is asking for a meeting with all of you. What is your pleasure?” Omega asked.

I looked at Tanya, then Declan and Stacia. Our young witch paused for a moment, then handed Wulf to Auntie Nika while Cora was quickly claimed by Lydia. He then pulled a coil of copper wire from his bag and threw it on the ground, where it wound itself out into a ten-foot circle. Nika nodded to Lydia and the aunties stepped into the circle. Instantly, I saw a black column of impenetrable black surround my children as Declan knelt down and touched the wire. Then he stood and pointed his left hand at the nearest electrical outlet.

A two-inch-thick bolt of power flowed into his hand and the lights flickered. “Okay, send them up,” he said, arcs of electricity weaving around his fingers.

Five minutes later, the elevator opened to reveal Ian, Ashley, and a tall, dark-skinned elf male with hair lighter than Stacia’s. Behind them were Mr. Deckert and his right hand, Stevens, both heavily armed. A pair of drones hovered next to our security guys.

Facing them was Declan, crackling with power, Stacia, whose eyes glowed yellow, Tanya with two steel swords, and myself, arms wreathed in aura. Behind us hulked Awasos in his new combat form, hunched over in the twelve-foot-high room.

“Shit!” Stevens said, mouth open.

Deckert turned his bullet head slightly and gave him a look. “You realize they’re on our side, right?”

“Sorry boss, but that’s damned… well… it just…”

“Yeah, I gotta agree, Mr. Deckert,” Ashley said. “I think I might have peed myself a little.”

She and her father had frozen in place at the sight of us, but they both also held up hands.

The elf held his hands out, open and empty. “Peace?”

“Greer,” Declan said.

“Milord,” the elf said, bowing his head slightly. Then his gaze turned to take in the rest of us. “I am no threat to you and yours,” he said, bringing his hands up very, very slowly.

“Holy shit, Dec. This is overkill, don’t you think?” Ashley asked, eyes wide.

“The babies are here. We won’t take any chances,” Declan said, eyes still on the elf, his steel orbs floating over his shoulders.

Greer turned to Ian, brow furrowed. “Babies?”

“Chris and Tanya,” Ian said, waving a hand at each of us in turn, “have twins. Remember what I told you about what we’ll do to protect our children?”

Greer nodded. “Well, this is like that but more,” Ian said.

“Oh. Well, I mean absolutely no harm to anyone’s children. But I fail to understand how much more dead I could be if Lord Declan should choose to end my life.”

Tanya was suddenly face to face with him, the wind of her passage blowing back his shoulder-length platinum hair. His eyes widened at her speed. “Declan won’t have time to end you if we decide you pose a threat,” she said, her voice quiet and calm.

He nodded. Slowly. Like a glacier.

My vampire disappeared in a pop, back at my side, the two of us between the twins and the elf. Greer turned his head to find her, then nodded slowly, almost to himself.

With a glance our way, he turned to Declan. “Milord Declan, I am here as an emissary to beg an audience.”

“What’s with the Lord stuff?” Declan asked, the energy arc disappearing into his fingers.

“What title would you prefer, Milord?” Greer asked, very serious.

“Declan will do just fine,” our kid witch said.

“Ah, but see, it will not do for me to address the ruler of the Middle Realm with anything but respect,” the tall elf said. “Especially as I am here at my mother’s request.”

“Perhaps we could sit down?” Ian said. “Greer is here on a diplomatic mission and I think you should hear him out.”

Declan glanced at us. I felt my vampire’s instant agreement. “Fine. Lydia, Nika, why don’t you take the twins out?” I suggested. Declan waved a hand, the circle fell, and the two vampires stood with our babies. ‘Sos changed to a merely enormous Kodiak bear and followed the ladies and kids out of the room, pausing to look back and pop his jaws.

Greer looked fascinated. “I have never seen his like,” he said admiringly. “He would tear a pack of trolls to pieces all by himself.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Stacia said.

“Of course, Milady. You are correct in my ignorance,” he said mildly.

Tanya sighed. “Alright. Let’s take some seats. I think our point is made.”

“Thoroughly, Miss Demidova,” he said.

“You know us?” I asked.

“We have conducted thorough reconnaissance since the events in upstate New York when we met the Moores,” he said. “Our lack of knowledge of the changes to this world cost us dearly during that meeting. Your place and power in this world guarantee that we would… study you.”

“So what’s your mom want?” Declan asked.

Greer pulled back, clearly trying to keep his composure in the face of Declan’s blunt and informal style.

“You have left our world in disarray,” he said. “The dragons are clearly very angry. The dragon Trygon came close to dying at the jaws of their leader, Gargax. My mother, Queen Morrigan of the Winter Realm, was wounded in combat. That has not occurred in over six hundred years. She has isolated her court in her northernmost fortress while my aunt, Queen Zinnia of the Summer Court, prepares to wage war. You defeated my sister, the Queen’s Killing Frost, twice in one afternoon, giving her more scars than she has ever received, and you successfully laid Claim to the Middle Realm,” he said.

Declan started to speak but Tanya beat him to it. “Why does your aunt wage war and against whom?” she asked.

“Summer and Winter exist in uneasy peace at the best of times. Any imbalance and war breaks out. With mother licking her wounds, Aunt Zinnia would like to press her advantage,” he said.

“But they both participated in the attack on Mack and Jetta?” Ashley asked.

“True, but both were hoping to gain advantage over the other. That’s the reason you both ended up at tiny, out-of-the-way Forpost rather than the larger, more controlled Demyne,” Greer said with a nod to the Suttons. “Summer arranged the portal but shifted the destination to destabilize Mother’s control of the situation. It is the way of things on Fairie.”

“You said Zinnia would wage war,” Stacia asked. “Why is she waiting?”

“Therein lies much of the issue. To attack each other, the armies of the Summer and Winter Courts must cross the Middle lands. These have been neutral till now,” he said, leaning forward, then thinking better of it as he got close the industrial iron coffee table in our seating area.

“What is different?” Ian asked.

“Why, the land itself. It is decidedly hostile to any not of it,” Greer said.

“How is land hostile?” Jetta asked.

“It shakes and shifts, the mountains are unstable, the rivers wash away riders who attempt to ford them, the creatures of the plains attack armed men without provocation, but the worst are the funnels of wind. They blow up out of thin air and destroy anything that tries to cross the plains. There may be other things; we don’t know. Zinnia has lost all of the scouts and advanced troops she sent to cross it.”

“So you’re here to do what? Seek help so your aunt can attack your mother? At your mother’s request? Do you understand how that sounds?” Tanya asked.

“A term I have learned here, on Earth, is dysfunctional. My relations are perhaps the apex of dysfunctional. But it works. Our courts shift back and forth, yet somehow there is stability. The dragons have always been a dangerous factor, but the Speaker allowed discourse with them that is now impossible. The realm that separates our two courts has become a violent, dangerous place,” Greer said.

“What about Idiria?” Declan asked.

“It appears to be fine. The inhabitants are the only individuals who may traverse your realm without fear. They have been acting as emissaries between the Courts.”

“So what do you want with me?” Declan asked.

“We are asking that you and Ashley, as Speaker, return to Fairie and settle your realm,” the elf said.

“So you can finish trying to kill me and my party? Oh, and let’s talk a bit about the elven technology in the hands of the Vorsook, who have attacked Earth,” Declan said.

“The Vorsook?” Greer asked. “They found other gates?”

“Apparently they took over another world that had ancient unused gates to this planet,” Tanya said. “They attacked with a modification of your Black Frost weapon technology that creates almost indestructible fighters from the bodies of our own people.”

He looked shocked. “And you fought them off?” His tone was slightly in disbelief.

“We did. We have a counteragent that destroys the nano organism. A plant from your own world,” Tanya said.

He sat back, digesting that news. His eyes moved among them while he clearly was thinking about the implications. “The Vorsook have known us for over a thousand years. They too employ life as their primary technology, so we have, from time to time, traded with them. Our population is very small in relation to our world and the cost to them to conquer us was never worth the, how you say, payoff. I was not aware that Mother had traded one of our most highly guarded technologies to them.”

He paused and thought some more.

“The Vorsook wanted to use our gates to Earth to assimilate you into their society, but Earth has long been our resource for genetic material to keep our species alive. The queens and their mother, the hag Cailleach, agreed that they would be blocked from our gates. I am troubled that they have both obtained our most prized knowledge and twisted it so thoroughly. And you have found a counter to it? From Fairie? Which you all brought back?” he asked, directing the last question at Declan and the rest of Team Fairie.

“We did. We’re lucky that way,” Declan said, glancing at me with a quick smirk.

“You appear so. It’s almost as if you bend the very laws of probability in your favor,” Greer said, nonplussed.

“Yeah, almost,” Declan agreed. “So if we go back, and that’s a huge if, our relations with your mother will be rather… strained? Seeing as how she has helped an alien race almost conquer and destroy our species. It’s possible I’ll just give Zinnia free passage and hell, I might even lend a hand.”

Greer’s dark skin paled considerably. “I see, Milord.”

“Wait,” Ashley said. “I’ve had the displeasure of meeting Queen Morrigan several times. She’s nasty, but highly intelligent. Why would she give her most guarded weapon to a race that she blocked from coming here and then send you here to request our return?”

“Mother has always guarded the Black Frost knowledge with ferocity. I, too, have an issue with her giving it away. But how did you manage to find the only Fairie plant that could have helped you?” Greer asked.

“We happened upon escapees from your mother’s labs. One of them had enough knowledge to show us the plant,” Jetta said.

“That seems almost as improbable. Escaping from mother’s workshops is almost impossible, and any who somehow manage it are tracked down by Neeve. She has never failed. Well, till you wounded her twice,” Greer said with a nod toward Declan and Stacia.

“You’re suggesting a setup? By someone other than Queen Morrigan?” Tanya asked.

The lean elf shrugged. “I do not see any other option.”

“You understand that this implicates your sister?” Ian said.

“My sister and my cousin were in charge of this scheme to separate your party,” Greer said. “But they are both their mothers’ children. Both have been heirs for centuries. It is possible that one or both has tired of waiting,” Greer said.

“So Neeve and Eirwen set the whole thing up. Neeve let herself get wounded?” Declan asked.

“No, I think my sister underestimated you—all of you. I know for a fact that she is deadly angry about the results of your interactions. In fact, whether you choose to return to Fairie or not, I would advise great caution.”

“At the moment, I’m not at all inclined to return. Why should I care if the Middle Realm, as you call it, is hostile to both Courts?” Declan asked.

Greer looked affronted. “But you claimed it. The land is tearing itself apart on your behalf and you would choose to do nothing?” he said, displaying anger for the first time.

“Not our planet,” Stacia said, but I could see Greer’s comments bothered Declan. His aunt, who had sat quietly throughout the entire conversation, was also looking unhappy. Witches had a close, almost sacred connection to the natural world. Declan’s Earth powers would likely make him even more concerned.

“Okay, they’ve heard you out. The message is delivered. Now, I’ve got one for you to take home,” my vampire said. “We’ve come under attack by your technology. We’ll be responding to the Vorsook, but don’t think we’ll be forgetting your world’s role in this. Tell your royal relatives that Earth, the entire Earth, is moving to a war footing. Interfere any further and you’ll need to worry about more than earthquakes in the middle of your continent.”

Greer took her words in silence, simply nodding before turning to leave. “I’ll walk you out,” Ian said. On cue, Deckert and Stevens returned to follow the elf out of the apartment.

When they were gone and those of us with supernatural hearing could tell the elevator was descending, Tanya turned to Declan and Ashley.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m bothered that I left the land in danger,” Declan said, “But I’m not eager to head back anytime soon. I don’t quite know what to do with myself.”

Tanya glanced my way, then turned back. “We have a few ideas. Wanna hear them?”

Declan looked at Stacia, then Mack and the others. He turned and nodded.

“What are you thinking?” he asked. We told him.

Epilogue

Burlington, Vermont, USA – one week later.

Mack and Declan came out of the stairwell on the second floor of Arcane’s residence wing and found Dellwood, the school’s resident Alpha werewolf, holding an unfamiliar kid off the floor by his neck. A couple of the other werewolves stood nearby, as did a few young witches who Mack didn’t really know.

Dellwood calmly looked over his shoulder at them, showing absolutely no strain in holding a kid that had to weigh at least one hundred and thirty pounds two feet off the ground one-handed. “If it isn’t the missing Jokeland and his sidekick, Manure Mack.”

“Hey Gellhood, watcha doing?” Declan asked. Someone snickered, probably one of the weres because the girls all looked too scared to say boo.

“Not that funny, Matthew,” Dellwood said without turning away from Declan.

“Nah, it’s at least a little funny. You do like that hair gel,” Matthew said. Mack looked at the subordinate werewolf with surprise. Old Matthew must be growing a pair. Matthew gave him a nod, which Mack put down to the obvious crush the kid had on Jetta.

“I do like this gel,” Dellwood admitted. “You’ve been saving that one for a while, I bet.”

“So why are ya beating up the kid?” Declan asked, nodding at the squirming boy. He was a few years younger than the rest of them, probably around Jetta’s seventeen years, and not overly large. Maybe a lean five-five or five-six. Mixed heritage with the continents of Africa, Asia, and Europe imprinted on his features. The single most interesting thing about him was the light of defiance in his brown eyes.

“This one? I’m not beating him up. Do you see blood? I don’t see blood,” Dellwood said reasonably.

“No you’re right, no blood, but maybe a little bluish tint to his face,” Declan suggested.

Dellwood effortlessly brought the kid closer, studying his face. “Yeah, he’s a bit blue,” he said, setting the kid down. “Honestly, warlock, he’s one of yours, but he’s got some kind of mouth on him. Downright disrespectful. Tell ya what, kid. You keep your trap shut and I let you breathe.”

The kid looked angry but his need for air won out. He nodded and the giant werewolf released his ham-sized hand.

“So you decided to come back? You’re more than a little behind there, Duckline. Gonna be hell to catch up,” Dellwood said.

“Not even going to try,” Declan said with a grin. Dellwood just raised his eyebrows.

“No, Dullpud, I’m teaching.”

“No way! I don’t have to take your class, do I?” Dellwood asked.

“Nope, witches only. Advanced techniques,” Declan said with a grin.

“Hmmpf. Probably a good idea,” Dellwood said. “Keep that hatchling out of my way.” Then he turned and walked down the hall, his pack on his heels. That left the embarrassed and angry-looking new kid along with a handful of young witches who were staring at Declan with awestruck eyes.

“Can we take your class?” a pretty blonde asked hopefully.

“It’s only for the older witches, but maybe in a year or two,” Declan said with a smile. “Now, who are you and why are you pissing off dangerous werewolves?”

The kid frowned, rubbing his throat. “That guy’s just a bully. He knocked me over and wouldn’t apologize.”

“He’s an alpha werewolf. They don’t do apologies, kid,” Mack said. “They tear out throats.”

“The school shouldn’t allow bullying,” the kid said.

“They don’t, but they do allow natural hierarchies to form, as well as teach survival tactics for confrontations with both supernatural and natural threats. You appear to need those lessons badly,” Mack said.

“His name is Mason, and he’s a witch. Not like you though. We all know about you,” a brunette witch said. Mack thought she might be even prettier. What, did the Circles only send their best-looking children? What was he thinking… of course they did.

“Well Mason, what’s your affinity?” Declan asked.

“Water,” the kid said, frowning at the brunette.

“Cool. Listen, we were headed to lunch. Have you all eaten already?” Declan asked.

“Oh, we’d love to go to lunch with you,” another witch gushed. Mack saw the first flicker of a micro frown cross his buddy’s face, but it was gone in an instant. “Great, let’s go. We’ll find out all about you guys.”

Mack had to hid a grin. Just like that, at least one outsider was added to the fold. Declan could never resist an underdog.

They led the group down the hall toward the dining room.

Author’s note:

First, I want to dedicate Winterfall to the strongest woman I know – my wife, Robin. She’s way, way tougher than I am. She handles more daily than I do yearly and it never keeps her down. She’s an inspiration to me and even more importantly, to our daughters who are pretty tough too.

Next I want to thank you, my readers, for hanging through thirteen books without giving up on the series. Demon Accords is a crazy universe, thanks for visiting it.

If you like Winterfall, hang in there, Summer Reign is coming next. John Conroe -2017.