Kyle The Apprentice Warlock
Enter the world of Kyle Watkins, the most average everyday warlock he could possibly be. Who also happens to have wizard powers. His closest coworker is constantly arriving at work covered in blood and everyone but Kyle thinks he might be a serial killer. Together they intern at The National Museum of Unnatural Science and History, where their vampire boss oversees the study, restoration, and containment of magical artifacts.
As a Warlock of the Archivist, the living magical embodiment of the collection and preservation of knowledge, Kyle is ubiquitously qualified for his position. This is a good thing because there is nothing remarkable at all about him when compared to his family of famous mages and warlocks.
Chapters
CHAPTER 1
7:00 AM September 13th 2026
Manhattan Island in Central Park
Outside The National Museum of Unnatural Science and History
It was a nice day, a nice morning. Clear, skies. It was also stupid-bright for this time of day and Kyle was shading his smartphone’s screen, walking from the shade of one security golem to another as he tried to read.
“Cook!?” He whisper-screamed with irritation and a flare of magic enveloped him as he expressed his displeasure. One of the dozens of security golems that lined the perimeter of the park turned its head to assess him as a threat. "Oh. Oops.” The young man looked up startled. "Don’t mind me. Just reading. Good golem. I’m not a threat. See?”
He groped for the lanyard around his neck and held up his tie instead of the identification card he’d been intending to. Large, blocky, and vaguely humanoid in shape, the dark granite security golem’s supposedly emotionless stare began to seem terribly baleful at that moment.
Kyle realized he was holding up his tie and fumbled around his neck again before successfully holding up his ID badge. He stood very still as he was magically scanned because he was pretty sure that they did not like him. No siree.
In Kyle’s, admittedly, biased opinion, those golems thought Kyle was shifty as heck. Were the other golems watching him out of the corners of their eyes? Were their heads turned ever so slightly to keep focus on him?
The surface of his badge flashed pearlescent as the magical security identifiers it was enchanted with activated at the golem’s query. Satisfied, the golem returned to its assigned position, looking like nothing so much as a statue facing outward from the protected grounds of Central Park. The others in the row also shifted slightly as well, their heads returning to a neutral position.
“Pft! I knew it.” He crowed quietly. "They are watching me.” After a second of squinting his eyes at them to make sure the golems had returned to their normal behavior, he let out a relieved breath and ran a hand through his short wavy hair giving it a quick tug of frustration.
“Whew! That was...” The young man scrubbed a hand over his face. "I’ve got to talk to the boss about lowering the sensitivity on their sensor enchantments. That is way too high.” Grumbling, the young man returned to hurrying along while quietly cursing under his breath and scrolling on his phone.
“Cook. They said I’m a bloody cook? Damn this sun.” Kyle squinted his eyes and shook his fist in the general direction of the sunrise as he continued with his distracted rant. "Anna gets a brilliant write-up, but me? Oh, he’s just the family cook.” His voice changed pitch and octave as he mocked what had been written about himself. "I can’t believe...ah, hello.” Noticing someone standing in his path, Kyle looked up to apologize and saw that it was just another golem.
This one was not the impeccable imposing dark stone edifice of the others. Nor was it one of the security golems that he swore held some kind of grudge against him. Instead, it was old, one might say ancient even. It had clearly been destroyed and reassembled.
The white marble of its weathered body was a crisscrossing tracery of golden lines welding the cracked stone together in a beautiful example of Kintsugi style art being used to restore an artifact. Of course, the regular type of lacquer used in pottery kintsugi wasn’t strong enough to hold a marble golem together. This was enchanted.
Bright morning light reflected off the repairs where it hit them but shone with magical light where they were in shadow. And a series of enchantments and runes of restoration were carved into the stone body to reinforce the welds. They glowed softly on the parts of its body that were shaded from the sun. The magical carvings were not bright enough to glow in the sun, but in the lighted areas, the carvings of the runes could be seen faintly in the old stone.
It was the Apple Tree Golem, a favorite feature of the park and one of the many wonders curated by the museum. This golem was actually a New York City mascot, and its image was used heavily in tourism advertising. Visitors to the museum could buy miniature, non-functional versions of it in the museum gift shop.
The Apple Tree Golem carried a woven basket of golden apples over one arm. They really do just look like solid lumps of apple-shaped gold. Kyle mused at how they glinted in the morning light. As he paused on his trek to work, the golem took one golden apple from its basket and held it out to Kyle with its free hand. The apple glowed softly despite competing with the sun.
Magic apples. Magic apples the golem harvested from the tree it guarded and offered to parkgoers as they wandered by. A tree that was gifted to Central Park and The National Museum of Unnatural Science and History by Ladon, the guardian dragon of the Garden of Hesperides. These weren’t those magic apples, the apples of immortality. Landon would never give one of those trees out if he could even be persuaded to admit that they existed.
But the tree had been a historic gift to celebrate the restoration of the ancient Golem which had been destroyed during a monster battle decades ago. It had protected the remains of its sacred grove until the very last. Landon had been so moved by the story he’d felt the Golem deserved a new grove to protect and the tree he’d gifted was the first planted in the museum’s Magical Tree Grove in Central Park.
It stood across from the entrance to The National Museum of Unnatural Science and History, golden apples glowing faintly nestled among the leaves of the tree. Kyle could see it over the golem’s shoulder. Beyond that, the multi-story façade of the museum with its wide steps and pillars making it look like some ancient temple of the Gods sized for them to appear in their true forms. Already, the leaves of some trees in the orchard were beginning to change colors for the Fall season. That didn’t matter though. The trees would fruit year-round.
“Thanks.” Kyle took the proffered apple as the golem once again offered it to him. While it might not make him live forever, one of these a day would keep the doctor away for most minor ailments.
It wouldn’t work on anything a good elixir couldn’t fix just as well or even better. Which was probably why no one fought over them or tried to steal them. And museum employees received an Apple Stipend as part of their benefits package. He shoved the apple into the deep pockets of his Warlock’s robe, a rather modern design that resembled a dark trench coat with a hood but was enchanted to protect the wearer from magical and alchemical mishaps. Kyle hurried on, his robe swirling around his knees as his cell phone began to ring.
The ringtone was set to a song that amused him and the Mountain King Mover’s advertising jingle began playing. It was complete with lyrics set to the iconic In the Hall of the Mountain King music. The young man began to sing along as he squinted at his phone screen angling it away from the sunlight again to see who was calling.
“When you need to move your stuff,
Trust in us,
We are tough,
When you need to move your stuff,
We will get it done.”
Kyle waited until the entire first verse had played before picking up the call.
CHAPTER 2
“Cooks R’ Us.” He smiled as he glanced at the caller ID, thought better of having fruit in his pocket, and pulled it out to tuck into his shoulder bag. If Samantha was calling for the reason he thought she was, she’d get the reference to his greeting, and he might as well beat her to the punch. Mock himself before she could.
“Kyle?” His sister hesitated slightly at his new greeting then plowed ahead with the conversation, ignoring the chance for friendly banter. "You wouldn’t happen to know any memory-erasing spells, would you?” That was...not what he was expecting. He frowned and pulled the apple back out of his bag realizing he was a little peckish.
“I am legally required to say no”. His glib reply was interrupted with a crunching bite into his golden apple. "However,” the young man continued as he crunched annoyingly, “...if you tell me where the body is and who’s involved, I can probably manage something for you.” His chewing continued as silence came from the other end of the call. After a thoughtful pause, his sister finally spoke again.
“What!?” Kyle stifled a laugh that almost resulted in apple chunks up his nose.
“Ah... So, your government friends will take care of it. Gotcha.” He sniggered at
Sam’s offended response as he swallowed.
“No! No one’s dead, Kyle! Have you...read the article yet?” Yep. She’d called for the reason he thought she called. He’d been thinking she called to tease him about what the guy profiling their family for the PR campaign his mom was part of wrote about him, but now he wondered...
“Working on it now. They did a nice bit on Anna. Too bad she’s going to hate it Just finished reading about me.” A sigh of relief came over the line.
“So, you haven’t seen the section on me yet? Good. I want you to erase everyone’s memory of those stupid tissue commercials, so they don’t haunt me until the end of time.” Oh, really? That instantly piqued Kyle’s interest. Did he smell more ammo for the sibling war?
“Haha, no! Sorry big sis. But I’m afraid you’re stuck with that.” He’d turned his body to shield his phone from the sun and began looking for the section of the interview on his sister. "Give me a second to skim...Oh! Oh. That is hilarious.”
Somehow the writer had found...well, it wasn’t that obscure. But that this, this, was what the author of the article focused on for Sam when she had such cooler aspects of her life to write about!
“What?” Samantha demanded hotly.
“I’m changing my ringtone to the jingle. Medicsayswhat!”
“Fuck you!” She called back. Kyle could just picture her face coloring with shame at the enduring nature of embarrassing stuff sticking around on the internet. The commercials she’d made for that business class project.
“Gesundheit.” Kyle cackled with delight.
“You suck, Kyle” He had intended to stop, but this was a perfect opening for another shot.
“At least I didn’t blow. Then I’d need a medic” Samantha smacking her hand into her head was loud enough to hear over the call.
“Normally, I’d have a good response to that, Kyle.” Reasoned even tones that bordered on hysterical came to him. “But I’ve been receiving calls from people I haven’t heard from since high school asking for a medic.” It came out in an almost-sob. "I had deliberately made the ads as outrageous as possible specifically so that I wouldn’t win the contest. I was trying to prevent my ideas from being featured in the Tissue Medic advertising campaign. Please help me make it go away?”
“Oh. I’m crying you a river. It’s so deep I think I need a tissue...medic.”
“Yooouuuu...! I hate you! Ugh!” The call went quiet.
“Sam? Did – she just hang up on me?” He stared at the phone as the call counter beeped off. "She did. I’ll call her back on break and apologize after she’s cooled off a bit.”
An incoming call from his younger sister started while he was dumbly looking at the just-ended call from his older sister. The new ringtone began playing. It was a jaunty jingle even if his sister had badly written the corny lyrics and Kyle chimed in with the catchy song.
“Dry your eyes.
Staunch blood flow.
Cheer you up,
on the go.
Body, heart, or mind,
enchanted Tissue Medic tissues
salve every wound from exes to skinned elbows.”
The jingle began to repeat itself and Kyle interrupted it by answering the call.
“You have reached the cook’s phone. He can’t speak to you right now because he’s busy slaving away over your favorite meals.” He was trying to cheer up his younger sister by making fun of himself because he knew she wasn’t going to be happy.
“Kyle, I think I’m going to do something my classmates will regret.” While, intellectually, Kyle knew she shouldn’t encourage it, he couldn’t help himself but to chuckle. "You laugh but if someone messes with me today because I’m in the stupid news again I’m going to lose my cool.” He sighed and put on his ‘responsible-big-brother pants’.
“If you lose your cool, just don’t let anyone find it in the chest of one of your classmates.” It was going to take a while to talk Anna down off the murder-everyone ledge and he realized with a sigh he was not, in fact, going to have time to get doughnuts before work. He stared longingly at the Enchantress Doughnuts food bike about half a mile past the museum.
“Cryomancer jokes. Ha, ha! Like that’s not the same one you use every time.” Usually, references to her magic cheered Anna up, but this was not looking like it was going to be a home run of cheering up kid sis by the big bro kind of day. "Fine. I promise I won’t get caught.”
That was...better...than outright massacring people with no regard for getting caught, he supposed. But frankly, the thought of people bullying his little sister just boiled his bones and Kyle was more than willing to bring the pain on anyone who tried. But Mom had left orders about how to deal with the inevitable article fallout. Keep her calm and de-escalate.
“It’s just one little section of a PR puff piece meant to humanize Mom to the people who might be a little bit scared that she’s the magical equivalent of a flying super soldier with nuclear laser lances and wing missiles of divine wrath.” Halfway through that sentence, he noticed a few of the pedestrians walking in the opposite direction eyeing him with concern.
“I shouldn’t have had to participate,” Anna grunted through the phone and seemed to be out of breath for a moment. She was doing something that made thumping sounds and he assumed that she was probably still getting ready for school. "I’m a minor. Aren’t there laws about protecting my privacy and safety?” Inwardly, Kyle admitted it was a valid concern. The youngest member of the family was only fourteen and she went to a super prestigious private school full of spoiled children of the uber rich for a reason.
Bodyguards.
All the bodyguards and security on campus were the reason.
“I’m pretty sure you are the only eighth-grader on the planet who has a personal I owe you from the president of their country.” This had been the plan that they’d worked out with Mom beforehand. Anna was inevitably going to be upset about whatever was written. She was a kid in a school with shitty spoiled-asshole classmates. The family knew beforehand that something, something would go down because of this. Their goal was to mitigate Anna’s reaction to the bullies.
“You’re right.” Anna grudgingly admitted. "I do have that I Owe You from him.” Kyle knew for a fact that it was framed on her dresser.
“Right next to the ones from three different Joint Chiefs of Staff.” He reminded her of how she’d had to be bribed into participating so that Joe Q Public could have a chance to get to know their terrifying parent as the doting mother she was. Or at least make them think she was. There were more IOUs, from various mom-related events over the years, and Kyle doubted that the individuals in debt would ever let her call them in... but if she ever did...
“It’s a hobby.” She admitted sheepishly as she tried to conquer her discontent. "Today’s just going to suck.” He could hear the resignation in her voice and his heart bled for her.
“I know.” It wasn’t hard to play the sympathetic older brother when he really was sympathetic to her plight. It wasn’t that long since he’d been her age and she had it rougher than any of her three elder siblings. She was the only one in the family who was visibly magic-touched. She stood out with her waist-length white hair, dark eyes, and tan skin. “But hey. At least you got a nice bit about you that makes you seem really impressive while I’m the cook and everyone thinks Sam’s in advertising.”
“Yeah.” Anna snorted and Kyle thought he may have heard a snot bubble pop. Someone needs a medic, a tissue medic. He couldn’t help the thought whispering in his head but wisely kept it to himself so that he didn’t aggravate his baby sister further. "But they made me out to be like I was so powerful and maybe the heir to mom’s magic and position.”
That? That had been bad. Kyle had thought it was a bad move while he was reading it. That should never have been okay to publish, and it was a damn good thing that Anna attended a school with security up the wazoo already otherwise they’d have to pack her off to some obscure boarding school built like a medieval fortress for her own safety. The crazies would be out in force for her after this.
“It wasn’t as bad as all that.” Kyle soothed while lying through his teeth. The golden apple clutched forgotten at his side.
“The writer called me the next Harbinger and said that I ‘Light Up the Dawn with my magic’.” She scoffed. Kyle was nearing the museum where he worked and paused in a shaded spot near the steps so he could keep talking uninterrupted. He heard the beep of an incoming call and pulled the phone away from his face to see who was calling now. It was, not surprisingly, his mother this time. He sighed with resignation.
“Just don’t worry about it, kid. Go to school. Have the best damn day you can. And spit icicles in the face of anyone who gives you grief.” It was not the most responsible thing he could say, but it was the most big-brotherly thing to say. "Look. I gotta go. Mom’s calling. Probably to tell me not to encourage you to do anything rash and to stop making fun of Samantha.”
“Kay. Bye, Kyle. Love you.” Her morose response gutted Kyle a bit. If he thought he could get away with it he’d play hookey, and hang out with Anna all day. But he had to adult, and they’d get caught when the school notified his parents that Anna wasn’t there.
“Love you too Snow Cone.”
CHAPTER 3
Kyle glared at the screen of his phone as the incoming call from his mother took over the place the one from Anna had just held. Whereas Anna’s image was a cute little cartoonish picture of a snow cone, his mother’s well, it was just one of the more epic shots of her that someone had taken. He wasn’t sure if it was a captured image from video footage or if someone just happened to be that lucky. But it was just about one of the most epic things he’d ever seen in his life.
The image Kyle used in his phone book was one of her in her full-powered exoskeleton armor. Her magical wings spread behind her with her lance raised and ready to fire. She was ringed with power in all the glory of divine wrath that her patron gifted her with. His mother looked like the most badass anime warrior goddess come to life. His mother, a warlock of the Archangel Michael. Known throughout the world as one of the most devastating forces in existence.
A warrior patron for a warrior woman.
Normally, Kyle was so proud when he looked at that photo. Because his mother was amazing. Today the image of her mid-attack represented the darker side of being one of her children. The expectations that everyone else placed on them to live up to her greatness.
And the teeny tiny size of the picture on the screen did it no justice at all. He scoffed, not bothering to sing along with the song playing as his ringtone. It was no longer amusing him. His mom had messed up. Fine. He’d have to talk to her eventually. So, he slid his finger over the button to answer his phone for the third time that morning.
“You promised.” That was how he answered the call. The cold flat tone of his voice trembled with anger, and he had to stop before he said anything he’d regret. On the other end of the line, Camina Watkins, The Harbinger of Dawn, The Light Bringer, The Morning Star, THE Valkyrie, The Last Sight You’d Ever See, The Last Resort, The Last Line, sighed as she heard her son’s tone of voice.
“So, that’s how it’s going to go.” It was more statement than question.
“You promised they were going to lay off of Anna.” The young man continued doggedly. If it had been himself, he might have capitulated and let himself be pressured, but for his little sister...NO!
“You promised that they were going to stop pressuring her to take Michael’s pact. You promised she’d be allowed to choose her own patron if she ever chose to become a warlock. She doesn’t need to take a patron. Anna’s got enough natural magic that she doesn’t need a pact to be a magic user.”
He kept his voice to a low growl and glared off into the park, watching pedestrians on their way while he took the time to have the inevitable conversation. He knew he was the only one who would do it too. Once again, he heard his mother’s sigh but her voice when it came was steel.
“First of all, what went to print wasn’t what I was shown and approved of. Secondly, I’m just a soldier. I couldn’t have prevented this even if I had known they’d gone this way with it. And thirdly, everyone, and I literally mean every person on the entire planet knows that Anna has been offered a divine patron.” Her voice dripped with scorn at the obvious.
"The angels put a God damned star in the sky over the hospital when she was born. It doesn’t have to be Michael or even one of the angels, but that doesn’t change the fact that the offer stands. That the offer will always stand. I can’t change that!”
“You could remind people that she’s just a kid and she’s not ready –” Kyle never got to finish his sentence.
“Not ready? Not ready?” For the first time in the conversation, Camina’s voice began to rise with anger. "Samantha entered her pact at thirteen. You? Not much older. I was burning monsters with the power of an archangel when I was ten. My entire family has been powerful military assets for centuries. Centuries Kyle. I’m literally called The Last fucking Line! You know what that’s of?” Kyle wanted to turn around and throw his phone at the wall he was leaning against, but instead, he let the word come from between his gritted teeth as his mother spoke at the same time.
“Defense.” The word was sullen as he said it, but fiery in his mother’s tirade.
“Defense!” She paused and lowered her voice. "My superiors, they look at the history of our family, they look at me aging, and they are freaking out. Have you ever seen a five-star general have a panic attack and an existential crisis because I don’t have an ‘heir? There is no one in our country at my level to replace me. Not one of my older children has chosen to be an actual Warlock despite taking warlock pacts with fairly powerful patrons.”
Here Kyle thought he might be able to argue, but his mother wouldn’t let him. They both knew why she didn’t have a proverbial heir.
“I know Kyle. I know that Samantha isn’t cut out for it, and her pact item is too unstable, and her patron too bloodthirsty even if she were willing. I know your brother has a peaceful patron even if Asclepius is powerful. I know! I also know that you are capable of so much more even if no one else does. But I also know that, Anna. Is. Special. New-stars-in-the-heavens kind of special. And the whole world knows that too. There’s only so much interference I can run, and I know that I’m failing her as a mother. I. Know. And I am sorry for that.”
She finally stopped long enough for Kyle to get a word in edgewise. But she’d already said out loud the thing he was going to imply quietly without ever outright saying. She was failing Anna as a mother. Camina Watkins was a soldier first, a warlock second, a wife third, and a mother last.
That was a quote from her official biography. She didn’t say that about herself. It was something the author had said. Kyle pushed down the lump that had been forming in his throat as his mother waited patiently for his response. Finally, he spoke, and his voice was only slightly hoarse.
“Will...” He coughed to clear his throat and continued quickly. “Will you just make sure you tell Anna that?” He pleaded. "Not all the other bits that will make her feel guilty and pressured, but the part about being sorry?”
“Yeah.” Camina gave a rueful laugh. "I think I can do that.”
“In person.” Kyle admonished, as he rubbed something from his eyes. "Not a text. At least a voice call.”
“Yes. I pro –” But Kyle cut her off before she could finish her sentence.
“Don’t promise!” He felt like a jerk, but it was a well-known fact in their family that their mother couldn’t be relied upon to keep some promises. "Just do it.”
“Alright.” She was quiet; ashamed with the knowledge of shared history as to why he spoke that way. “I better let you get to work before you’re late. Lots of love baby boy.” With that, she hung up and Kyle puffed out his cheeks with a huge sigh of relief. He loved his mom, but these conversations...sometimes she made him feel like he was the parent.
He made sure the call had disconnected and locked the screen on his phone before shoving it into a pocket of his robes. Kyle looked down at himself with that same assessing self-loathing he felt whenever someone tried to ‘guide’ Anna into being their mom’s replacement. It didn’t matter that as a warlock of an archangel Camina Watkins was going to live and be a viable military asset for a good long while yet. It mattered because if Kyle had chosen a different path, maybe Anna wouldn’t have had to deal with those fools at all.
Yeah. When other people looked at Kyle, they saw an academic warlock. Someone who took a patron to help them gain knowledge more than magic. But what if...No! The young man shook his head and straightened the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. No. He’d chosen the Archivist and knowledge, and magic for magic’s sake. Knowledge was power after all.
Another ringtone came from the phone in his pocket, and he pulled it out again. It was just his alarm, telling him work started in fifteen minutes. His shoulders slumped as he trudged out of the shadows. Sunlight glinting off the natural blonde highlights in his light brown hair. He was just an average apprentice warlock – not even a full warlock like his older siblings – working an average job as a museum intern.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Well, a little more. He also had some wizard powers.
Not nearly as spectacular as all the other members of his family.
CHAPTER 4
10:00 AM September 13th 2026
New York Preparatory Academy, New York, NY
It started out a nice day. Except for that stupid article. But the weather was nice. Really nice. Like most days that change the course of history, they are stereotypically either really nice weather or very terrible weather. It’s never just an average blah kind of day. Today it was an absolutely gorgeous Fall morning.
The leaves had just started turning colors, the sky was an unbelievably deep blue for that time of year, and it contrasted incredibly with the red brick buildings of the grounds for the New York Preparatory Academy for the absurdly rich and spoiled. That last part about the absurdly rich and spoiled wasn’t actually part of the school’s name. That was just something Anna’s big brother, Kyle, would say to cheer Anna up about going there.
But it was a really beautiful campus. Austere red brick facades on emerald-green manicured lawns, obsessively landscaped formal gardens, shingled rooftops, and fall leaves. That was why Anna Watkins was deep in concentration, working on a watercolor pencil landscape sketch when Sara White approached unnoticed and kicked her sketchbook out of her hands.
Confused and startled Anna shrieked in surprise and jerked her head up to see who had interrupted her while she was in the zone. Seeing it was the most popular – which everyone knew meant richest – girl in school, Anna contained her sudden urge to destroy the first person she saw. But her nostrils flared, and she pushed the few strands of hair that had escaped her bun back over her ears in a nervous habit.
“What the fuck Sara?” So, what that they weren’t allowed to swear at school. Sara’s behavior was bullshit.
“You think Liam Ecclestone would ever be interested in a freak like you?” The brat’s golden curls jiggled around her porcelain face as perfectly painted glossy red lips spat scorn at the girl sitting on the ground.
“Um, nooooo…” Anna arched one pale eyebrow unsure of what had spawned the current confrontation. "I’m not even sure who that is?” Unable to scoot back as she was leaning against a tree, Anna rose in one smooth graceful movement. That only seemed to infuriate her opponent more as Anna towered a full five inches over the other girl once standing.
“Stop pretending you aren’t into him. Gina saw you say ‘Hi’ to him before school this morning.” In a moment of clarity that made even less sense, Anna was able to place the interaction that seemed to have garnered her this unwanted attention.
“Look, I was just being polite to someone who was polite to me. He said ‘Hi’ so I said ‘Hi’ back. There’s no interest between us from either party.” Remembering her mother’s words that it’s harder to de-escalate a confrontation than to escalate it and that no one really wins in a fight, she tried to reassure Sara that she was not ‘competition’.
Anna had noticed that Sara had shown up with her little clique of bullies. Not that they were there for intimidation or anything, just that the five of them went everywhere together. But Sara’s shrill accusation that Anna was ‘into’ someone had drawn kids from around the school grounds. There hadn’t been a real knock-down drag-out fight yet as the school year had only started that week and everyone was aching for some drama and gossip. A crowd was forming, and Sara had noticed she now had an audience.
“Well, good! Wouldn’t want a freak like you who bleaches her hair white for attention thinking she was good enough for a man like that.” It was all verbal poison and vitriol from Sara who didn’t seem to want to de-escalate anything. A sigh escaped Anna that she couldn’t quite suppress. Her hair was naturally white, all of her hair. This made for a striking contrast against her dark tan skin. It was eye-catching. And who the fuck called a teenage boy a man? The dumb bitch trying to let him know she was willing to let him in her pants, that’s who.
“It’s naturally white. I asked my parents if I could dye my hair dark to look more natural, but they said that they weren’t going to let me change the way I look just because an insecure little cunt like Sara White is afraid a shallow boy that only cares about looks will like me more than her.”
It was wrong. Everything her parents preached was for her to stay out of fights and avoid conflict. Yet she was done tiptoeing around the girl who had made the lives of half the students at school miserable for years. If the spoiled little princess wanted to throwdown with ‘the next Harbinger’, Anna was more than capable of beating some sense into her. She was having that kind of day and in that kind of mood.
“You expect us to believe that you have skin that dark with hair that white. Puh-lease!” Sara scoffed and glanced at her gaggle of girls who laughed along with her. "That’s complete and utter bullshit.”
“I come from a magical family. Sometimes magical abilities affect the way a person looks.” She paused for a moment to let that sink in with the crowd. It couldn’t hurt to remind Sara where she came from and what picking a fight with her really meant. "You would know that if you had been smart enough to pass any grade and not just had your parents bribe the school into advancing you so you could still play with your friends.”
“You bitch!” The shorter girl gasped.
“At least bitches don’t get known for being easy like you, skank!” Anna shot back unconcerned as Sara dropped her bag and handed her coat to one of her friends in preparation for the fight she’d been looking for.
“I’m going to kick your freak ass.” The crowd let out a collective ‘ooOOOOhoooo’ of appreciation.
“You sure you want to do that?” She was more than willing to fight and deal with the consequences. It would be her first offense, she was a decent student, and her parents would support her decision even if it was against what they would encourage. Okay. Her dad, the pacifist, would be hella disappointed. Her mom would one hundred percent approve of Anna’s choice to beat the ever-living hell out of this obnoxious immature little shit. Maybe. "You know who I am.”
“You can’t hide behind mommy’s skirts forever. Eventually, you’re gonna have to take your medicine like the upstart piece of trash you are.” For a moment, Anna couldn’t believe she had just heard what she’d heard. Did Sara White, the girl who called on her daddy’s wealth and power to threaten, bribe, and coerce everyone from classmates to teachers, to school officials really just accuse Anna of hiding behind who her mother was?
“Bwahahahaha!” Laughter erupted out of her, and the pale-haired girl doubled over with uncontrollable amusement. The crowd watched in stunned awkward silence. Then a few chuckled while others smirked. "See?” Anna straightened as she caught her breath. "They get it.” She gestured broadly at the giggling teens around them.
“Get what?” Bewildered disgust twisted Sara’s face and Anna took pity enough on her to explain.
“That was funny. That you, who only have anything because everyone is afraid of her father, accused someone else of hiding behind their parents.” Unable to stop herself, Anna giggled again. "It’s funny.”
Sara had been glancing around at the crowd whom she had thought were on her side. Now she realized that maybe they were not rooting for her but laughing at her. She balled up her fists and lunged for Anna only to stop short when Anna pulled her hands up to a ready fighting position and each fist flared with balls of cool white light. A crisp chill wave blasted out from the white-haired girl and her hands frosted over with ice.
“Oh, what the heck. Kicking your ass without magic is going to be so much more fun.” She shook her hands and dissipated the spell. Where the balls of summoned ice had been moments before were just bare knuckles now. Then she swung a hard uppercut into Sara’s stomach driving her fist through the girl’s diaphragm.
The teens around her screamed with delight as the biggest bully in school doubled over gasping. ‘Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!’
“Oh, for fucks sake!” Anna muttered under her breath. "Why do teenagers have to be such animals.”
“That’s not fair!” Shrieked one of Sara’s clique. "You’re bigger than her.” The girl threw a bookbag at Anna.
“And there’s five of you who wanted to fight over some boy whose name I don’t even know.” Snatching the bookbag out of the air, Anna hurled it back with superhuman strength at the girl who had interfered sending her sprawling on her back several feet away.
Meanwhile, Sara had caught her breath and rushed Anna. Which was a mistake. With a general air of unconcern, Anna backhanded Sara across the face. Her head jerked to the side with a split lip before she fell.
“Anyone else want a piece of me?” It looked like one of the three girls from Sara’s clique that were left standing might have been about to step forward when an adult could be heard shouting. The group who’d been chanting ‘fight, fight, fight’ let out a collective ‘ahh’ and a few ‘booo’s’ and parted to let a teacher and several security staff through.
“Anna Watkins? Fighting with magic? What would your mother say?” The teacher tisked her disapproval.
“Hit hard, hit fast, make sure they don’t get up.” The teacher scowled at Anna as she quipped the famous Camina Wattkins quote almost automatically. “Hey, I didn’t use magic to fight. Just to try to convince her she didn’t want to fight.” Shrugging, Anna pointed a finger briefly at Sara then collected her belongings while trying not to scoff at the girls who were now worried about getting in trouble. "Besides, Mom says it is the moral obligation of the strong to stop bullies and protect the weak. Didn’t we just cover that quote from her in modern history class?”
“Get out of here everyone.” The teacher frowned, her face looking like she had a bad taste in her mouth as she made expansive shooing gestures with her hands to send the gathered teens off. "Not you five.” She whirled and pointed a finger at the three trying to help their two fallen comrades slink away quietly with the disbursing crowd. "You are going to the dean’s office with Miss Watkins. We need to have a chat with your parents.”
And the day was still gorgeous. Multicolor leaves rustling in a brisk breeze under a sunny azure sky. Anna sighed up at the heavens in resignation. Was this really what Michael and the angels had in mind when they chose her?
CHAPTER 5
10:45 AM September 13th 2026
35,000ft Altitude between New York City and Washington DC
A statuesque brunet rested her head against the window frame watching the landscape and fluffy clouds slide by beneath her. She let the vibrations of the passenger jet soothe her while she tried not to offend the young gentleman sitting next to her. He had already requested her autograph while jabbering on about what a big ‘fan’ he was of her work.
“Really, the way you took out those monsters during the last Appalachian magic surge…” He shook his head and exhaled with what appeared to be something between a sigh and a moan."…It was pure artistry. I watched the whole operation. Everything that the embedded journalists filmed.” His gushing was annoying, to say the least.
“Embedded journalists can’t film everything in high magic areas. High enough levels of magic can cause even magically hardened electronics to fail. So, the monster battles that were filmed and broadcast to the public were only a small portion of the cleanup that actually happened."
The correction was almost automatic now and she tried not to groan in frustration. This was why she hated traveling on civilian airlines even if the seats were slightly more comfortable. And quiet. Was it weird that she was more relaxed flying in some giant military cargo plane with the rattling and the roar of the engines getting ready to do a high altitude jump into an untamed magic zone overrun with monsters than sitting in relative comfort next to a... fan?
But, if the public continued to believe that the dangers out there were all known and easily dealt with, they wouldn’t take funding the military seriously. And that’s the problem she was having with the Senate Appropriations Committee. Somehow, the fact that known dangers had been successfully eliminated or removed meant to the politicians that the military didn’t need as much money as they had been giving it. So, she said the words that needed saying.
“Really?” Her seatmate brightened at her words. "So, there was stuff that you saw that wasn’t broadcast?” Placing one tanned hand to her face the woman rubbed the bridge of her nose in a failing attempt to ward off the migraine she knew would soon follow. "I’d love to hear all about it?”
Before she could think of anything to say to avoid this part of the conversation, her phone rang. Her shoulders sagged with relief as she jumped at the excuse to avoid talking to yet another Gore Groupie about disemboweling monsters. The number wasn’t one she recognized yet she was determined to take the call anyway.
“Excuse me. She interrupted the young man. "I need to take this.” Seeing the flight attendant on their way down the aisle, she paused for a second before answering the call and whispered hurriedly to her seatmate, “If I’m still on the phone when the flight attendants reach us, tell them I want coffee with two sugars and one cream.” Then she quickly answered the call.
“This is Camina speaking.” Camina hadn’t recognized the number, but anything had to be better than talking about work on her day off while traveling for work. Right? The young man next to her narrowed his eyes in suspicion and casually tilted his head as he nonchalantly strained to listen in on her conversation.
“Hello, is this the parent of Anna Watkins?” The voice was brusque and tinged with a level of disgust Camina had never before heard directed at her by someone she didn’t know.
“Yes. This is her mother, Camina Watkins. How can I help you?” For a few breathless moments, Camina was worried that something had happened to her daughter, and she pursed her lips together expectantly.
“This is Dean George from New York Preparatory Academy. I’m calling because Anna has been suspended for fighting and a parent or designated guardian needs to pick her up. I’ve been unable to reach Mister Watkins." A frown creased Camina’s forehead and the corners of her full, expressive lips turned down.
“Suspended for fighting? Well, certainly I hope it was the bully that keeps breaking her stuff because I told Anna I’m not replacing anything else that Miss White breaks anymore." Silence from the other end of the call strung out long enough that Anna’s mother thought the line had disconnected. "Are you still there, Dean George?”
“Ahem. Yes." Hearing the discomfort in the Dean’s voice, Camina’s frown curved up into a smile. "Be that as it may, your daughter participated in a fight and has therefore been suspended along with all the girls she had been fighting with. When can we expect someone to pick her up from school."
“I’m currently on a flight heading toward New York, but I’ll be landing within the hour. I could probably pick Anna up within two hours if there aren’t any delays on landing. You could just release her and let her walk home. We don’t live far from the school." She’d tried to sound as cheerful as possible but let some aggravation into her voice.
“Umm…Unfortunately, school policy does require that a parent, guardian, or an adult designated by a parent or guardian pick the child up when they’ve been suspended." The Dean had been taken aback by Camina’s suggestion that her child be released to walk home.
“Then I’ll be there as soon as I can." She paused artfully knowing full well that she would be annoying the heck out of the Dean. "Probably around 1:00 PM but maybe not until after 2:00 PM. I really can’t speed up the plane. That’s a bit beyond my control."
The young man beside her stifled a giggle as a flight attendant handed him a hot coffee, two sugar packets, and a creamer. Glancing over her shoulder Camina winked at him as he handed her the coffee and condiments and she mouthed Thank you!
“Umm hmmm." Her mouth occupied with a hot sip of beverage; Camina agreed absently to something she didn’t quite hear. "See you then. Ba-bye, Dean."
“Ba-bye?” The young man next to her sniggered as the call clicked off.
“I’m allowed to say ba-bye." She blinked innocently at her neighbor. "Thanks for grabbing my coffee for me." The cool air of the plane made a pleasing contrast on her face as the steam from her cup caressed her cheeks while she took another sip.
"I haven’t had a chance to have any yet today and I’ve been craving it."
She fumbled with the knob to release the seat back tray in front of her. One hand held her coffee, and the other, her sugar, creamer, and the snap-on lid to her cup. Juggling the way she held her condiments, she easily opened the tray and lowered it to set her things on.
“Trouble at home?” Camina’s erstwhile traveling companion asked with a look of intrusive concern that bordered on glee.
“No, not really." Her smiled reassurance was more than just an act. She was sure that her husband had just been busy with a patient and that he would be picking up their daughter soon. As the gears in her mind spun up back into ‘mom mode’ after the time she’d spent away, Camina absently doctored up her cup of joe the way she liked it before taking a thoughtful sip. "Mmmm…” Tension poured out of her body with the taste of her caffeinated savior. Her shoulders sagged gratefully. "So, good. Thank you, again."
Gesturing with her cup, the woman indicated what she was thanking her neighbor for. Then she opened the contacts list on her phone and scrolled through. Finding the name she was looking for, she dialed. The phone rang, and rang, and continued ringing several more times before eventually going to a generic voicemail box prompt asking her to leave a message.
“Hey, honey. It’s me. The school called and needs someone to pick up Anna. I’m on a flight back to New York now and should be landing in less than an hour. I came back early to surprise you. So…surprise! If you get this message before I pick up Anna, let me know if you are planning on doing it."
She hung up. There wasn’t any reason to be concerned that her husband wasn’t answering the phone. He was sure to have patients today, and he’d check messages between them. It was almost guaranteed that he would be calling her before she landed.
CHAPTER 6
10:50 AM September 13th 2026
Radio Empire Concert Hall New York, NY
Backstage was bustling as sound and light crews jogged and speed-walked through the final preparations for the show. Backup dancers, showboating rockstars, and the puffed-up wannabes who were going on before the main lineup made for colorful and flamboyant obstacles as they ducked in and out of dressing rooms calling for makeup artists, hairdressers, and last-minute costume alterations.
Of course, there were the inevitable groupies too. Wearing outfits that were too tight and consisting of too little material to justify the outrageous prices of designer clothes. One particular groupie in a loud purple jacket and jean shorts, with back pockets hanging out a hem that might as well have belonged to a bikini, caught Deveraux’s attention. His long blonde hair swirled loosely around his shoulders as he spun to watch her go by.
He wasn’t checking her out. No. But her aura was out of control. Angry and swirled up with hints of vengeance and rage. In the dressing room she had just walked out of the band was gathered around a pre-concert snack table filled with baked goods.
There was a small tingle of magic surrounding the food. Not enough to set off the security monitors or affect the electronics of the building; but enough to be no good if the dark spell coiled through the cookies was anything to judge by. Deveraux considered going in to warn the main attraction yet was discouraged by the dour-faced security guard at the door.
“You might want to warn the band to not eat any of the…whelp…never mind…” He had tried, but the leather-clad young men had already started stuffing treats into their mouths.
“They wouldn’t have listened anyways. Not when there are ‘magic cookies’ to eat." The security guard harrumphed with disdain. The way he had made air quotes when speaking the words ‘magic cookies’ implied that the band was expecting something recreational.
“OH…” The long-haired hippie…or maybe he was a hipster douchebag…sucked in a sympathetic breath through his teeth. "It’s not the kind of magic they think it is this time. The girl who just left was very upset." He shook his head and shrugged as the security guard laughed before heading into the room to wrangle some discipline into his charges.
The show would be starting any moment now and Deveraux wanted to get a last look at his makeup before heading up on stage. He ducked into his dressing room and pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. Checking it for messages and then setting it to silent, he chucked his phone into his bag.
Wouldn’t do for it to go off while he was performing and distract him. Or worse, for it to be picked up on a microphone. Or…worst of all, for him to lose it. The thought made him pale, and he blanched at himself in the mirror while he was giving his makeup a cursory final glance.
He looked good. He knew he looked good. Muscular? Toned? Long sexy hair? Check. Check. And check! Jeans that made his butt pop? Check. He headed up to the stage prepared to face the biggest audience he had ever Deejayed for.
While the sound crew next to the stage fitted him with his wireless mic, he could hear the announcer introducing him. He blushed and grinned when the crowd cheered for DJ Deveraux as he jogged and jumped out on stage. Raising his hands like a prizefighter for the crowd to cheer.
They weren’t really cheering for him. They were cheering for the main act that would be coming out later on, but DJ Deveraux didn’t mind one bit riding the high their response gave him. After all, how often did he get to shed his normal persona of a responsible husband and father to indulge in his craving for praise and use his talents in Technomagery the way he loved most? Back in his changing room, his phone in his bag was ringing with a call he was missing from his wife.
10:50 AM September 13th 2026
Industrial Park District Near the Port of New York
Two individuals in black padded motorcycle gear with molded black body armor sped through the streets of New York City without a care for the flow of traffic. They weaved and dodged expertly among the sparse vehicles in an industrial part of town as they headed toward their quarry.
Their target was an innocuous everyday average moving truck. It moved placidly along at the average speed of traffic. There wasn’t anything to call attention to it aside from the fact that maybe it was unusual for it to be in this part of town. Though not out of the question.
It was the kind of moving truck anyone could rent for about fifty bucks a day. It was shades of blue and white with the Mountain King Mover’s logo of ice-capped mountains under their name in gold. A company that reliably had franchise locations in every large city and small town in America.
Not until the driver of the truck heard the two cyclists and glanced in his side view mirrors to see them pulling up behind him did the moving truck have anything about it which would draw attention to it. Once the driver realized he was being pursued, his behavior changed drastically. The truck accelerated and passed the vehicles ahead of it, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with an oncoming flat-bed semi, laden with small crates.
The semi swerved off the side of the road. Water exploded from barrier barrels as it impacted. Restraints securing it precariously stacked boxes snapped and the crates toppled from the flatbed and spilled across the road. The two individuals in pursuit dodged the rolling boxes.
One motorcycle nearly crashed the armor on the rider’s kneepad sparking on the pavement as the vehicle slid onto its side. The rider released the handlebars with the hand closest to the ground and punched the pavement, launching themselves and their vehicle back upright with a visible shockwave of magical force.
A chase was on, and the pursuing motorcyclists gunned their engines as they followed determinedly. Behind the speeding vehicles, a crack split the road where the fallen rider had righted themselves. Traffic in both directions was stopped by the widening rift in the ground.
CHAPTER 7
10:52 AM September 13th 2026
Industrial Park District Near the Port of New York
Inside the back of the Mountain King Movers truck, four security guards uniformed in armor and covered with weapons huddled uncomfortably around a locked steel crate. They looked like a typical group of Hollywood-ugly heroes from an action movie who were about to launch a four-man war against the Bad Guy. In reality, they were…maybe not the Bad Guys, but they definitely weren’t Good Guys either.
They were guarding the locked steel crate and a man in a lab coat. None of the guards liked the balding, middle-aged, arrogant asshole who pretended to be cocky and confident, but who clutched his briefcase too tightly to his chest to be anything other than terrified. His nervous habit of pushing his spectacles up his nose gave him away further. He’d push them up even when they did not need to be, then had to adjust them back down to see properly.
When they felt their vehicle’s speed increase, the four guards glanced at each other with only mild interest. One raised an eyebrow and another shrugged back at him. When they were jostled to almost fall over as the truck swerved to miss the semi, that’s when the lead guard became concerned. He frowned and grabbed the radio clipped to his uniform chest.
“Check in.” His voice was steely, calm. Then the vehicle swerved again, zigzagging through traffic wildly. “Hey, I said check in.” There was no answer. The radio clicked. It whined. The radios of each of the guards began to whine, a low buzzing at first that ran steadily up through the octaves.
“Shit!” One of them exclaimed, unclipping his radio and staring at it horrified.
“High-level magical interference. Radios off. Eject the batteries before they blow.” Their leader was still calm, but his voice had an edge to it. “Don’t worry. The truck is hardened against magical activity so we’ll keep moving and the collector will maintain ambient magic below toxic levels.” He’d been removing the battery from his radio as he spoke, and his subordinates followed suit. “Just be ready. There’s something out there.”
10:52 AM September 13th 2026
Radio Empire Concert Hall New York, NY
Deveraux finished his set to so many cheers. The crowds were screaming. He couldn’t see them really, just a seething mass of bodies in the dark, his eyes blinded by the stage lights. He didn’t care.
His heart was pumping, racing so fast. It was so gratifying. So, exhilarating. Sooo intoxicating. He could sense the emotions riding high and he’d been able to use his magic to accentuate it with the tones and rhythms of the songs he had played. They were ready for the main act. But the main act was probably not going to be ready for them.
There were a few more openers before the band was scheduled. Maybe they had time to get themselves unhexed before the show was on.
“Thank you, New York.” Deveraux grabbed the bottle of water a stagehand had set aside for him. He took a long gulping drink letting some of it run down his throat and front. Making magic was hard work and he was dripping with sweat, but this was part of his act...and some of the ladies, and lads, loved it. The water made his tight shirt stick to him and transparent where it was wet.
Then he grabbed the single red rose laying on the same side table where the water had been. He swaggered jauntily to the front of the stage and tossed the rose as far out into the audience as he could. Deveraux didn’t wait to see where it landed. He swiftly exited the stage as the screaming fans surged to even greater excitement. Overhead the announcer’s voice gave him an outro.
“That was DJ Deveraux. He makes music that the heart always knows.” There was a suggestively lewd lilt to the announcer’s voice but that was show biz. Sex sold. And Deveraux was sexy, if he did think so himself. At least, his fans told him he was sexy. “Now where is the lucky audience member who caught that rose. What’s that? You’re sharing it with your friend? Well, congratulations ladies. You have just won yourselves a backstage pass to meet Maiden’s Voyage after the show tonight. Say, thank you, to DJ Deveraux.”
Even more wild screaming followed the DJ, and he smiled broadly all the way back to his dressing room. He continued smiling until he saw the missed call from his wife. By the end of the voice mail, Deveraux was frowning with disappointment.
Now his plans for rubbing elbows at the afterparty and spreading his name for more gigs was going up in smoke. Or maybe that should be frost, considering it was his icy frost queen of a daughter who had messed things up. No. That wasn’t fair. She’d been complaining about that bully for a long time. It was bound to happen if the school didn’t take action.
This just...
It wasn’t fair. None of his other kids had ever.... No. That wasn’t true. Samantha..., Samantha was a statistical outlier and while she’d never started fights, she made sure she finished them. In a way that prevented the loser from ever wanting to fight her again.
What had Kyle called her? Oh yes. The Prodigy of Pain. Remembering that bit of his oldest daughter’s hellion years made Deveraux feel a bit better. And remembering that his son Kyle was now old enough to pick Anna up from school made Deveraux smile with guilty but unrepressed glee.
Just this once.
He sent the text.
‘Kyle. Need you to pick up Anna from school. She got suspended I’ve got a busy schedule today. Your mom took an early flight but she’s still not back. You can just drop her off at home. Thanks, Dad.'
CHAPTER 8
10:53 AM September 13th 2026
Radio Empire Concert Hall New York, NY
DJ Deveraux was just packing up to get a head start on the afterparty when he heard the call. The drummer and the second bassist of Maiden’s Voyage were out of commission and the lead singer was desperately calling for anyone who could fill in from the openers. Before he could muster the arrogance to volunteer himself, someone else chimed in that ‘DJ Deveraux is a technomage, he could cover both parts”.
“Really?” The leather-clad singer grasped at the statement with desperation and relief. “Where is he? He hasn’t left yet, has he?” Swallowing the crow of joy that threatened to leap from his throat, Devereaux sauntered up to the frantic frontliner as he turned to look for the technomage.
“I’m right here.” Devereaux gave the other musician a big friendly grin even though he knew the star would never have given him the time of day in any other circumstances.
“Did you hear? Are you willing to stand in? There are thousands of tickets we’d have to refund if…” The man trailed off as Devereaux held up a hand graciously. One might even say he did it calmly. This was it. This was his chance. This was his one shot at being famous for his music. He was shocked that his hand didn’t quiver even the slightest and his voice was clear and firm, reassuring even.
“I’d be honored and delighted.”
As if the entire backstage had been holding its collective breath for a frozen second, unsure if he would accept, some hoping he wouldn’t so that they might have a chance, then the spell broke, and everyone sprang into action.
“Alright, Comeon.” The singer had an accent that Devereaux hadn’t noticed at first. Now it came out strongly. Though the technomages could not place it. “I got George’s bass on stage. Hey, you, roadie,” he called out to one of the technicians dressed all in black that were all over the backstage and most definitely weren’t all part of this particular band’s personal roadie group. “Set up the bass for hands-free operation.”
“Don’t forget the drums,” Devereaux added.
“The drums too?” The technician called back uncertainly.
“They’re electric, aren’t they?” He turned to the singer from Maiden’s Voyage who nodded.
“Yeah?” His tone was voice made it clear that he didn’t think they could be used that way.
“Then I can operate those hands-free also, I can switch back and forth between the two if you like. The grin of delight that met his words was immensely gratifying.
“I do like.” He clapped the DJ on a shoulder as they walked to their locations on the stage. “I would like that very much.”
Before he knew it, the curtains were going back up and he was reading sheet music someone had discreetly placed for him. It was cleverly lit with one of the effects lights that were on him. But it wasn’t necessary. He recognized the song from the radio, and he was playing it mostly from memory.
They’d started out quiet and the announcer was letting everyone know that Technomage DJ Devereaux was guest appearing with the band. Like no one was going to notice that he was covering for two missing members. That was fine.
His magic was humming through the drums and the bass as he sat down and started playing by hand. The singer and the backup were belting out the lyrics, but they were not looking good. They were looking quite bad actually. Sweating and swaying like they were about to topple over.
The lead singer lost it first as he ran for the side curtain. He barely made it past the sight of the crowd before tossing his cookies all over the stagehand who had rushed to bring him a bottled water and a bucket. There was a faltering in the cheering of the crowd before DJ Devereaux started a crazy drum riff.
He rolled out the snare into a fast complicated rhythm on the toms that wasn’t part of the song but that he knew would punch it up a bit. After laying into the hi-hat with a crash for good measure, Devereaux chucked the drumsticks out into the crowd. Then he pointed at the lead singer’s abandoned guitar lying on the stage and made that baby stand up and walk into place as it rejoined the song.
The lead guitarist waved at the technomage to get his attention and clutched at his abdomen. Devereaux nodded and gestured for the guitarist to toss his instrument at him. With a doubtful cock of his head, the musician complied.
The audience lost their minds.
And Devereaux flicked out one hand and caught the guitar with his magic only to set it playing immediately. With a quick gesture of his other hand, one of the abandoned microphones leaped into his fingers. Coordinating so many instruments at once was only a light strain for him. He’d practiced this kind of thing for years. Now, he began to sing, finishing up the song he’d started.
Three songs later, the lights went out as every piece of electronics in the Concert Hall not hardened against magical overload whined with a piercing crescendo. Cell phone batteries exploded in people’s pockets while cameras burst into flames taking a few hands with them. Plastic cases started melting and the music stopped.
It wasn’t Devereaux’s doing.
10:55 AM September 13th 2026
Industrial Park District Near the Port of New York
The two motorcyclists chasing the Mountain King Movers van approached quickly. Though the van was now speeding through the streets, its driver was unable to shake the more mobile bikes behind it. Knowing there is nowhere for their quarry to go, the duo close on the vehicle quickly. Their expertise allows them to avoid falling or crashing despite the less-than-ideal road conditions in this part of town.
Dodging cracks and potholes as they swerve around corners, the bikers are undeterred even with freeway overpass pylons flashing by. Closer and closer they creep until one is able to reach out with their left hand and touch the handles on the back gate of the truck. The other cyclist grabbed the left handlebar of the first cyclist’s bike as the first biker grabbed the truck.
Smooth as silk, the transition. The first cyclist jumped over the handlebars of his bike onto the back bumper of the truck as their partner took control of their bike and pulled it along with them. They used their grip on the handle to pull themselves forward and up. It was a maneuver intended to protect the vehicle rather than let it fall to the ground and be damaged. They wanted a fast getaway.
After taking a moment to stabilize their position the grim bandit shoved one hand through the solid metal rear gate of the moving truck. The metal tore with a screech. Once they had the more secure handhold of the deformed gate, the attacker took their other hand off the handle and used it to help push the opening they’d made even further open. Little by little, they forced their way inside.
Staccato gunfire echoed around the intruder, ricocheting off their head and shoulders. From inside one of the defenders shouted.
“Either they’ve got the mother of all defensive magic or they’re not human.” His words are followed by curses. “Barrier up.” The hum of a spell activating chimed loud enough to be heard even over the gunfire.
Behind the barrier and the armed men was the one unarmed man and his metal box. He cowered with terror and seemed to try flinching with the sound of each shot fired. Upon hearing the guard’s shouted warning about the attacker’s defensive magic, he began frantically working to open his box.
“What are you doing?” One of the two guards who was inside the barrier with him called out angrily. The man they were guarding had distracted the guard at a critical time and it might…it did. One of the two guards outside the barrier was pummeled with a crushing blow from the unknown attacker.
“This artifact will disable any magical protections he has.” He was fumbling hastily with unlocking the box when a gurgling scream drew his eyes up from his task. The scientist, or whatever he was, stared in horror as the second guard outside the magical barrier was chucked out of the mangled rear of the truck to bounce sickeningly off the pavement. It was then that he remembered that there was not one, but two such terrors to worry about as the second motorcycle rider dodged the rolling body with both bikes, keeping pace with their fleeing vehicle easily.
Now nothing stood between them and the thin but sturdy barrier protecting the thing they wanted. The tall humanoid shape disguised in thick motorcycling gear stalked toward the group and began smashing down their barricade.
“What are you doing?” The keeper of the box screamed hysterically. “Shoot them!” He’d paused only briefly in his fumbling to open the box as layer after layer of protective insulation was ripped off in his haste.
“If we fire before he takes down the barrier the bullets will just bounce around inside it and hit one of us.” The leader shouted back. This was not how today was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a simple relocation job.
With a whoosh, the barrier came down and the two remaining guards began to fire. They only stopped when they had to reload but there wasn’t any point. They were going to die. Then the civilian shrieked in triumph.
“Yes! Take this, whatever kind of monster you are!” There was a high-pitched whine, like the sound batteries made before they exploded from magical overload. The protective barrier was trying to sputter back to life, but it didn’t matter because the person-sized attacker went down like a thousand-pound sack of flesh, hitting the floor with a clang. Behind the van, the remaining motorcyclist following them lost control of both motorcycles and rolled away in a devastating flipping disaster.
Then the whining sound was followed by a whump that shook the whole van as it moved. A few seconds later there was a small compressive explosion inside the van, and everyone ceased moving. That might have been the end of it, but the cause of that small explosion was an enormous surge of magical energy. A devastating shockwave of arcane power spread from the scene of the event.
Luckily the city was built to harvest and direct harmful quantities of magic. The infrastructure built into the roads directed the wave of power into the conduits that fed the city’s magic collectors. The magic collectors, miraculous workings of science and magic that protected all of New York City, in turn, made a similar high-pitched whining sound albeit magnified a thousand times before they too were overloaded by the massive influx of magic.
Across the city, batteries exploded, plastic melted, and Prometheus-brand emergency flares went off, their color-coded light, notifying residents of how much magic they were currently exposed to.
CHAPTER 9
10:55 AM September 13th 2026
New York Preparatory Academy, New York, NY
After three hours sitting in the office Anna’s butt was getting sore. She’d tried to get up and stretch her legs, but the Assistant Dean had snatched up a yardstick from next to his desk, and menacingly smacked it on the edge of his desk before pointing at her threateningly then back at her just vacated seat. Geez, that guy was so over the top. He might as well have been pointing two fingers at his eyes and then at her to indicate that he was watching her.
Where did he get that stick from anyways? From her position, she should have been able to see the object. Yet when she observed him putting it away, the thing just kind of disappeared. As if it had been subsumed into the material of his desk. Maybe it was a warlock pact item from his patron –
Did he have a patron? Was he a warlock? She didn’t know. Until this morning Anna had never spent this much time with the school’s administration. She wasn’t even sure if she’d ever been in the office. Sure, she’d walked past it literally hundreds of times. But inside?
And now she’d been here for hours.
Hours!
So many hours!
Hours, and hours, and hours, and hours.
Next to the stuck-up, spoiled little shit-for-brains, cunty bitches – No. Stop. She had to stop. If she got riled up, she might start oozing cold. Once she got too upset, she was going to become a hazard to others. So…calm. She had to be calm.
While sitting on this hard, hard, wooden torture device of a chair. Seriously!
Who still uses wooden chairs in schools? It wasn’t even enchanted for comfort. Nor was it one of those creepy ones carved into the ergonomic shape of an ass for, you know, comfort.
Over the course of the three hours since she’d gotten the worst grilling of her life, two of the girls had been picked up. Their parents had sent chauffeurs and family limos for them. Ironically, Sara’s parents couldn’t be inconvenienced to even notify the help to get their daughter early. Anna might, might have gotten caught sniggering when she overheard that conversation. She’d received stern looks of disapproval from both the Dean and Assistant Dean. But the glares of hatred from Sara and her cronies? Priceless!
She fidgeted uncomfortably. There was something seriously wrong with her chair. From the corner of her awareness, she noticed that Sara and her two remaining cohorts were fidgeting also. They seemed to be experiencing the same discomfort that she was. The young cryomancer was almost of the opinion that it wasn’t possible to make a more uncomfortable chair even if it had been enchanted…
...Wait a minute! Anna straightened in sudden suspicion. Everywhere else in this hoity-toity school is filled with state-of-the-art ergonomic bliss. But in the school’s office, the chairs where students had to sit were the epitome of gluteus abuse? Now that she thought it out, it was clear that this was a subtle form of punishment.
Her eyes narrowed and her expression turned flat. Of course. That was the kind of thing mister I’ve-got-a-magic-stick man over there would do. For the first time since she had been filed in here with the other fighters, Anna turned her ire on the administration. Then she sighed and forced herself to relax.
She’d done the crime and now she was doing the time. Things would only get worse if she lost the strict control she had to keep over her magic, and her ‘cool’ ended up being even the slightest bit noticeable by someone else. The only thing for it was to accept it and remain calm. Besides, it wasn’t all bad.
There was television. It had been on the twenty-four-hour news channel the whole time. But still…good and proper brain rot to zone out on and distract her from her desire to cause other people serious bodily harm. Anna leaned her head back against the wall behind her in resignation and returned her focus to the droning of the news anchor.
“In preparation for the expected arrow swarm intersection over Southern Lake Michigan, Chicago has reinforced its defensive grid while the recently emptied magic collectors have been set to the highest absorption capacity. The Governor of Illinois has activated the Magicorps division of the National Guard to aid in diverting this natural disaster. Experts say that the empty magic collectors will siphon off enough magical energy from the enchanted arrow swarms that the city defense grid combined with the efforts of aeromancers from the National Guard will be able to divert both swarms as they intersect.”
“That’s right, Bob.” The second anchorperson added, butting in helpfully. Probably following a script written on some teleprompter. Now that they’d done the grave reporting, they would put a positive spin on the potential danger and follow the segment up with some light-hearted puff piece. Was she getting jaded already? It must be Kyle's fault. And she nodded in satisfaction as the commentator continued.
“Enchanted arrow swarms are volleys of enchanted arrows from ancient wars that are still flying and traveling the world today because they were made to draw on ambient magic to power their speed and flight enchantments. These swarms may have started as man-made phenomena but they have been around so long they are now basically considered a natural disaster. Which swarms are we watching today, Bob?”
Anna resisted the urge to snort. Everyone knew what a magic arrow swarm was. It was stupid that the news reiterated their definition every time one intersected near a large city. After all, nobody went over the definition of a hurricane every time Florida flooded.
“We’ve got the Trojan Six swarm, the swarm generated during the sixth Battle of Troy, and the Punic War swarm intersecting ten miles North of Chicago. It’s uncertain how their enchantments will interact as there are no historical records of these two swarms intersecting before. It’s possible that they will join together, forming a larger more powerful swarm. Or their enchantments may negatively react causing both swarms to self-destruct.”
“Don’t forget the third option, Bob.” The second anchorman added continuing the friendly but mildly concerned banter bit.
“What’s that George?” Bob was getting irritated with George. There was a bit of a bite in his tone. Anna was right there with Bob; George was an irritating a-hole. Just look at him, he was so polished and suave that he had to secretly be a serial killer.
“There’s the possibility that there will be no synergy or reaction between the enchantments and the swarms will pass through each other with nothing more than a few light collisions.” Bob rolled his eyes at the same time as Anna because, when in the entire history of the world had that actually happened?
“Whatever the case may be, stay tuned to find out.” Bob continued smoothly, busying his hands with a few prop documents on the desk before him. “We’ve got a countdown clock at the bottom of the screen there below the streaming updates.”
“Yes, Bob. Stay tuned to find out in just under four hours. But on a lighter note, a new article profiling Camina Wattkins, The Harbinger of Dawn has shown the world the lighter side of divine wrath as a homemaker and mother. The writer interviewed all of her children as well as her husband and painted a picture of life at home with a Holy Warrior. Your thoughts, Bob?”
“Well, George, I loved the article. Mrs, Wattkins is probably one of, if not, the most famous Warlock in modern history. I have to admit I’ve been a fan since high school and even then, she was already finding her way into our history books. I’m sure that everyone who has been following her meteoric career was thrilled to see this more personal side of her.”
Anna had stiffened slightly from her repose of negligent boredom when the segment started but she relaxed as she saw they were focusing on her mother, as they should be. Then that asshat, George, started talking and she stiffened right back up again.
“The profile of her youngest, Anna Wattkins, was particularly intriguing.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s everywhere.” She’d half risen out of her chair when the Assistant Dean looked up from typing industriously to glare at her in reprimand. The yardstick appeared in his hand and the teen slammed herself back down with her arms folded angrily. She went back to watching the discussion with far less equanimity as the school’s fluorescent lights flickered with a dangerous rising hum.
“I’m warning you, young lady.” Yardstick guy pointed at the lights and then back to Anna, brandishing his yardstick like it was a wand.
“It’s not me. I’ve got my powers locked down. It’s the AMD rising.” The hum in the lights continued rising in octaves and she glanced at it nervously. The ambient magic density of the air was rising far higher than it should in a city with magic collectors as big as New York’s. The offending news segment continued under the increasing noise.
“Everyone’s speculating on her potential. Perhaps we’ll be seeing another young
Warlock enlisting in the Magicor – ” The television the lights, and every electronic device in the room blew out at once.
Two teenage girls shrieked as the cellphones in their pockets – which should have been powered off in their chic white leather backpacks – burst when the batteries overloaded. Anna, who had been expecting something like this, lifted her sturdy messenger bag over her head and used her textbooks to protect her head from falling glass. There was no explosion from her bag.
“Down!” Her reaction was instinctual, knee jerk really. “Down now!” The fact that she actively loathed the girls beside her didn’t matter. What did matter was that the school used backup batteries on all the important computers, the building was loaded with electronics, and clearly, the board hadn’t used the generous donations and the absurdly high tuition to retrofit the buildings with magical shielding.
She threw herself on the floor and two of the girls followed her. The third must have been wearing a watch, she was scream-crying and holding a bleeding wrist in her other hand. Anna pulled the girl down with the other two. Not bothering to see who was who, she summoned a barrier shield to protect the four of them until all the secondary explosions were over.
CHAPTER 10
10:50 AM September 13th 2026
Inside The National Museum of Unnatural Science and History
“Miss, you dropped your phone.” A woman in an ‘I love NY’ T-shirt where the ‘love’ was replaced with a doodled heart paused in her return to the tour group and groaned. She’d waited as long as she could before making a break for the bathroom because she hadn’t wanted to miss any of the tour. It wasn’t every day that your tour guide looked like the son of the famous Harbinger of Dawn, but this guy wasn’t a cook so it couldn’t be him. Still, if she got him to take a selfie with her no one would have to know he was just a lookalike.
So, she’d held it waiting for an opportunity to ask which had never come. Eventually, she’d had to give in to the call of nature and it had been the most explosive – she’d been quick. So quick, that she hadn’t shoved her phone deep enough into the stupid mini pockets that cursed her stupid pants. And she hadn’t even heard her phone drop.
Suspecting that it was just some bozo trying for an excuse to strike up a conversation she ran her hands over her ass, double-checking her pockets to make sure the phone was really gone even as she turned to the speaker. Yep. Her phone was missing. That was probably her phone. She was already plastering a grateful smile on her face before she’d turned far enough to see the individual speaking.
The hallway was dark too. Unnaturally dark despite the dim lights glowing overhead. Yet not so dark as to be unnavigable. She had to squint at first to get a good look at the person calling her and when she saw the man, her face fell. The was no head where she expected one to be. Only a broad chest. With a museum identification card on a lanyard. He was still off away, but he was huge.
She slowly trailed her eyes upward and saw a large man with thick straight blonde hair that came down over his shoulders. Light-skinned, he was too far away and too dark in this hallway for her to tell what color eyes he had but he looked like the discount version of a hot Viking. The distinct lack of obvious muscles and the chef’s whites is what made him the discount version.
Too tall. Shoulders aren’t broad enough. No muscles. She thought absently as she headed toward the cell phone in his outstretched hand. Then she noticed the stains on his white clothing. They weren’t large. But they weren’t old. Fresh.
Bright red blood.
On his hands. On his knee. And a bit on his collar. A small dabble near the large knife in the sheath on his belt.
“Good thing I caught you.” He grinned and she saw more blood on his face. Was it dripping from his mouth? She slowed. Stopped. Then began backing away.
Seeing her hesitation and movement away from him, the giant of a man sped up his walking trying to get close to her faster. This only unnerved the woman more and she turned and fled.
“That’s okay.” She called over her shoulder. “Just remembered that someone is waiting for me. Drop it off with the security desk and I’ll pick it up later.” She was in full retreat sprinting down the hallway back to the tour group before she had finished shouting her excuse.
The man stopped, sighed sadly, and trudged back the way he had come. Kyle met him coming from the opposite direction. He stumbled, caught himself, and continued on.
“Hey bro.” He called out to the Viking looking chef. “Do you know when the director is going to do something about the lighting in this hallway? It has got to be an OSHA violation. A damned hazard at the very least.”
Kyle was friendly and cheerful, having just finished the last of the dreaded, guided tours that he hated giving for the day. Knowing he wasn’t on tour duty for a few more days always put a spring in his step. But his smile dropped a bit when he saw the frown on his coworker’s face and the sparkly pink phone in his hand.
“Ah, man. Did it happen again?” The chef nodded and neither had to specify what it was. “Well, you get cleaned up, I’ll hit the John, and we’ll drop it at the lost and found when we head out on break.” The Viking chef nodded and they walked into the men’s room together.
A few minutes later they emerged, the tall chef looking decidedly less like he just finished eating his latest serial murder victim. After a brief stop to drop off the lost phone, they strolled out the front doors of the museum and onto its giant Greek temple-esque steps talking animatedly like the good friends they were.
“The look on her face, Kyle. It was bad.” He scrubbed a now clean hand through his hair and continued his self-castigation. “I feel like I’m cursed with this height.”
“Nah, bro.” The apprentice warlock assured his friend with a good-natured laugh. “If I had walked down that hallway looking like a cannibal serial killer, she would have probably reacted the same way. At least with your height, when you freak people out they choose to run away instead of deciding that you are small enough they actually can take you if they ‘defend’ themselves.” Kyle made air quotes to emphasize his point. “And look on the bright side, with a vampire for a boss, it’s not like you are going to get in trouble for wearing a little blood around from the kitchen.”
“Ha, ha.” His friend responded with only mild sarcasm before smiling and agreeing. “Yeah. It would suck if people tried to fight me every time I weirded them out. Okay,” He clapped his hands together then flung them wide and took a deep breath as they descended the stairs. “You know how my morning went. How was yours?”
“Will you look at the time? I guess we won’t be able to discuss that particular topic.” Kyle jokingly made to run off before his friend made a grab at him with a face. “Actually, shoots, no! I can’t look at the time. I forgot my phone.” He glanced back up the stairs then waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t need it. We’re just going for doughnuts.”
“Yeah. It’s just doughnuts. Not like there’s going to be a catas – ” It was said nonchalantly but Kyle gave his friend the evil-side-eye as he joked.
“Don’t even joke. You’ll jinx us.” He scolded as his friend shoved his hands in his pockets on their morning stroll. It was still a gorgeous day. The sky was very blue, the leaves were just changing.
“Oh, look, the cloud hopper rabbits are eating cherries from the Alchemist Tree.” His friend interrupted. “We should stop by it on the way back, I promised Sam a photo next time she came by your place.”
“Uh, huh.” Kyle gave his friend the side-eye again, this time deeply suspicious and far less evil…for now. “You could just text it to her.” The apprentice warlock volunteered, not sure if he was thrilled by the idea of his slightly older friend sharing numbers with his sister.
“Oh, I don’t have Sam’s number.” He commented, studiously not looking at Kyle as he said it. “I figure that if she wanted me to have it, she’d give it to me.” The wistful sigh – was that a wistful sigh, it better not have been a wistful sigh – that escaped the proverbial giant of a man would have garnered Kyle’s sympathy if they’d been talking about any woman in the world that wasn’t related to him. Because it was his sister, Kyle decided to update his how-to-dispose-of-bodies plans in the near future. Friend the chef may be, dating his sister he would not.
“Come on, you keep changing the subject. How did the morning go…” He paused and grinned slyly at Kyle “…my fellow cook.” Kyle stopped and stared up at the heavens shaking his fists at the sky with both rage and entreaty.
“You read the article.” Came his flat reply after his moment of self-indulgence.
“And saw three news segments discussing it.” The chef nodded happily while providing more fodder to upset the weary Kyle. “They even played some of those Tissue Medic ads that Sam wrote back when she thought she wanted to be a business major.
“Oh, Sam and Anna are not going to be pleased about that.” Cackling with glee, Kyle pulled out his wallet and began checking how much cash he had. “If you’ve got links text them to me. I’m making a long edit of all the coverage for grandma...” Then laughed evilly and added conspiratorially, “And I’m collecting all of Sam’s commercials as ammo for later.”
“You two have issues.” The other laughed, “My siblings and I were never so…whatever you and Sam are. Before the…incident…we all got along all the time.”
“Yeah.” Both sobered quickly but the chef chimed up with a question before they could become morose.
CHAPTER 11
10:55 AM September 13th 2026
Central Park, NY, Outside the National Museum of Unnatural Science and History
“What was that bit about doughnuts, though? You don’t really think that they are the greatest food on Earth, do you?” His incredulity was offensive to Kyle as they passed by the Magic Tree Grove and the golem that guarded it. It was still passing out apples to passersby and that, as well as the question, made Kyle smile bigger.
“Doughnuts are the best food on Earth, and everyone knows it,” Kyle assured his friend with a swagger and all the bravado he could muster.
“No, they aren’t.” The chef argued back. And I’m pretty sure that there are many people who do not even like doughnuts.”
“Get stuff!” Kyle cried out in mock rage. “Everyone loves doughnuts, and if they don’t, they haven’t had the right doughnuts. Because Enchantress Doughnuts are bewitchingly good. Magic doughnuts, enchanted to be delicious. You know that no one can dislike them once they’ve tasted them.” As Kyle repeated both the slogan of his favorite doughnut chain and the urban myth behind them the chef shook his head in amusement.
“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.” He admonished.
“Nope. Not illegal to make it taste better, only to make it addictive.” Kyle assured his friend, replacing his wallet and frowning as he felt something else in his pocket. Taking it out he saw that it was the unfinished apple from this morning, he picked a bit of lint off it and gave it another bite.
“Oh, man.” His friend looked away in disgust. “You are a bachelor.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kyle protested with a full mouth, spraying a few bits of apple flesh as he spoke.
“Old half-eaten apple and doughnuts for breakfast?” He shook his head with disappointment this time. “Nobody likes doughnuts. It’s a fringe food. That’s why I’m the only one who will go with you to get doughnuts on break.”
“You take that back.” Affronted, Kyle paused in his walking and took a step back from his friend. “Doughnuts are gifts from the Gods and no one else comes with me because they just don’t have enough self-awareness to understand that it's okay to indulge in your inner child and have doughnuts as an adult. They have to wait for someone with a more highly developed pallet and magnanimity to bring doughnuts into the breakroom for them. I just choose to have you come with me because I like you best and want to share the blessing with you directly.”
“Right,” Chef scoffed with a raise of his eyebrows. “If doughnuts are so great, I bet you couldn’t even give one away to a stranger on the street let alone talk someone who wasn’t me into going to get one with you.”
“I could get anyone to come buy doughnuts with me.” Kyle exclaimed.
“Challenge accepted.” Before the chef could blink, Kyle had strode off on a tangent and was approaching a woman pushing a stroller and wearing exercise clothing. She took out her earbuds and Kyle began animated gesturing as he was talking to her. Chef could not hear what he was saying but she shook her head, laughed, put her earbuds back in, and jogged off while Kyle was midsentence.
Undismayed, the apprentice warlock hurried up to the next closest person. The chef checked the time on his watch and began strolling after him. They had time. And this would be amusing.
Kyle was on his third person by the time the chef had caught up with him. A balding middle-aged man, who still had more hair than not, was listening avidly to Kyles's lurid and graphic descriptions of the doughnuts at Enchantress doughnuts. And Kyle was deftly luring him in the direction of the doughnut stand at a slow distracted amble.
“Even though they are plain glazed doughnuts, they are delectable. The sight of the creamy glaze dripping down through the hole of a fresh warm doughnut.
Glistening with sweet sauce. You’ve never tasted anything so light and creamy. Sometimes I like to lick it off – ”
Kyle paused in his monolog as his robe jumped. The man backed away from his startled.
“What the?” he exclaimed “What is that? Kyle’s robe jumped again, and he raised his arm as a plain leather notebook jumped out of it to float in the air before him. He was backing away with distrust, but Kyle wasn’t paying attention to that anymore. He’d noticed a sudden change in the ambient magical density, and it was not good.
“That’s not normal.” The chef commented as he watched mesmerized over Kyle's shoulder.
“No. It’s not.” Kyle agreed. The notebook was his warlock pact item, a gift from his patron to channel the power it shared with him. As he watched, it opened itself to a page and letters began writing themselves into existence.
His patron, the Archivist, was an intellectual. As a collector of knowledge, the Archivist’s pact item had been a book from which Kyle could access any knowledge that the Archivist had collected, and which Kyle would use to transfer new knowledge to his patron. It didn’t generally move around on its own like that. It wasn’t that kind of item.
Kyle carried it around in a concealed magic book holster under his robe to keep it close and prevent it from being stolen or lost. Or to avoid not having it when he might need it. There were any number of reasons, really, for going through the trouble of getting a concealed carry license for a magical tome.
It wasn’t a security book. He wasn’t being weird, Samantha. It was practical. But now his pact item was doing something he’d never seen it do but was aware was possible, it was warning its holder of danger to his life. His look of concern grew with each letter that appeared in bold text at the bottom of the open page.
Ambient magic density has reached dangerous levels.
“Holy shit.” The chef breathed in disbelief. He glanced around at the perfect weather, the blue skies dotted with occasional light puffy clouds. There were people playing throughout the expansive manicured lawns of the park without concern. “It can’t be right. Look at…” He struggled for the words and gestured helplessly around, “…everything.”
“Magical density doesn’t have to affect the weather,” Kyle murmured quietly as he grabbed the book hesitantly and closed it. “Check the danger level indicator on your ID badge.” Kyle was reaching for his badge with one hand as he was returning his book to the holster with the other.
“Yeah. Of course.” The chef replied, remembering that bit of trivia. Only the employees who actively worked with the artifacts usually had to worry about magic levels. Dangerous artifacts were contained and stored. But all museum employees had an ambient magic density indicator on their badges, just like people who worked around radiation had radiation indicators on their badges.
“It’s purple,” he whispered to Kyle.
“Mine too,” Kyle replied quietly.
“Were we exposed in the museum? Or is it out here?” That was the question, wasn’t it? If it was out here, they should get to the museum and take as many people as possible. If it was something inside the museum, they should get as far away from it as possible.
“I don’t know.” Uncertainty had him waffling between the two choices. Run, or go back. Then he realized something. “Wait. None of the indicators in the park have gone off. It must be inside. Come on.” Kyle gestured for his friend to follow him, and they began trekking across the lawn of Central Park to get as far away from the museum as possible. “Call the boss and tell him we got the notification. They’ll start evacuating any second now.”
Then every security golem in and around the park activated at once. Statues hopped off of pedestals, splashed out of fountains, or stood from their repose to join the dedicated security golems that lined the periphery of Central Park. They began the trek to form a protective ring completely encircling the perimeter of the park, feet stomping in time with military precision.
A few seconds later the magical streetlamps in the park turned on and flared purple. Prometheus ambient magic density indicator flares placed regularly throughout the park blazed into life with a flickering purple flash. Kyle knew they were color-coded to indicate the level of magical danger. Purple meant that the ambient magic level was high enough to generate monsters from inanimate objects as well as mutate non-magical animals into monsters.
From the museum, the external and internal alarms began sounding and a speaker broadcasting an automated voice began a prerecorded message.
“Warning. Ambient magic density has reached dangerous levels. Monster formation is imminent. Seek shelter immediately. The Museum is a safe zone and possesses a magical insulation barrier. If you cannot evacuate the vicinity, you may seek shelter within.”
Kyle and his friend looked at one another briefly, then began running back the way they had come to the shelter of their workplace.
CHAPTER 12
11:15 AM September 13th 2026
35,000ft Altitude between New York City and Washington DC
Camina laughed, really laughed, at the snarky comment her seat partner made. He’d been regaling her with stories about his own high school indiscretions, and it made her issues with Anna pale by comparison.
Though...Samantha...Samantha and her patron gift Gleipnir gave Camina ulcers on a regular basis still.
“I can’t believe it.” She shook her head at the young man who’d been so eager to cheer her up.
“Swear on a stack of Bibles.” The young man held out a hand in front of his face to emphasize the height of the stack he would swear on. “We turned her desk transparent, and she was feeding a nest...an entire freaking nest...of micro-sparrows in her drawer.”
“Oh, wow.” The woman chuckled and shook her head appreciatively. “Thanks so much for sharing some of your misadventures with me. I feel less worried about the one and only fight that Anna’s been in.”
“Anytime.” The young man smiled hugely almost shy for a second. “I mean, come on. How often does a guy get to say that he cheered up his hero with embarrassing stories of his childhood?” He ran a hand through his hair nervously.
“True.” The woman nodded in agreement. “That’s true. But I can’t possibly be your hero.”
“No. No. I mean. Yes.” He laughed and corrected himself. “Camina Watkins. You are my hero. And probably a lot of other people’s hero also. But I want to be, I’m trying to be, an embedded journalist....”
“Really?!” Camin felt briefly guilty for thinking earlier that his interest had been purely because he’d been a Gore Groupie, someone who liked watching monster battles simply because of the blood and guts.
“Yes, really. And people like me can’t do what they do without people like you to protect us.” He had that determined look in his eyes that said he wasn’t going to cry even if his hero said something shitty that might squash his dreams.
“Oh. You are going to do wonderfully if you keep thinking like that. Just remember that warriors and adventurers can fail and that you will be in danger.” The young man had been so honest and vulnerable that she smiled kindly at him. “I hope you have some basic self-defense abilities?”
“Yes. I’ve had my Tier Four license for a few years now. Though I had to leave my wand at home since you can’t get a license to bring a wand or magical item on a plane until – ”
“Tier Six.” Carmina volunteered. This was something she was familiar with. Magical law and restrictions. “Something that drives any frequent flier warlock batty, are the security protocols around the transport of magical conductors on passenger transports. It’s one of the reasons I hate traveling as a civilian.” The young man nodded emphatically.
“While I’ve never flown as anything but a civilian,” he started “I’ve got nothing to compare it to. But I hate the lines, the waiting, never knowing who you will sit next to. It’s a complete lottery unless you’re traveling in a party. And arrival and departure times are not guaranteed.”
As he finished distractedly, he looked out the window now that something dawned on him. He craned his neck and angled his head to get a better look out the window. He’d finally noticed the change, and Camina waited for him to comment on it as he checked the time on his phone.
“You know, I’ve been so distracted talking to you, I didn’t notice that we were supposed to have landed by now.” He scratched at his head with confusion. “I could have sworn I felt us turning in preparation for landing a little bit ago.”
“Don’t be loud about it.” Camina smiled and kept her voice conversationally low. “I noticed us changing direction several minutes ago. We seem to have been redirected to another airport and the captain has chosen not to tell us passengers. Why do you suppose that might be?” The young man thought about it for a few seconds before his eyes went round.
“Well, shit!” He exclaimed quietly and dropped his hands into his lap. “That’s bad.” Camina chuckled at his calm response. He’d do well as an embedded journalist with the Magicorps. She’d had to work with people who wouldn’t have reacted with even half as much aplomb as this young man.
“Eh. It’s not good, but it’s not necessarily awful.” Camina amended. “We know it’s not really bad yet.” She commented cheerily and he gave her a twisted look of doubt.
“How could we possibly know that?” He was skeptical, but Camina was prepared and held up her phone with a grin.
“No one’s called for me yet.” But her grin only lasted for a few seconds before her seatmate shot back.
“You’re assuming there’s anyone left to call you.” She’d just been playing around, trying to cheer up and reassure the young man who was undoubtedly going to be upset about their flight being redirected. A catastrophe of that level never even crossed her mind. For a moment she was stunned, then shook her head in
disbelief.
“No.” She paused, then repeated the word again as if to dispel any chance of such a reality. “No. My patron would have let me know if it was something like that.” Pausing, Camina frowned. “You know, I’m sorry, I just realized that I forgot to ask your name.”
“Oh.” The aspiring journalist exclaimed. “I’m sorry. My bad. I was so star-struck I totally forgot to introduce myself.” He wiped peanut salt off his hand on the front of his worn lightweight jacket.
She noticed for the first time, the many-pocketed vest showing beneath. A vest like the kind all her embedded journalists wore when they followed her on a campaign. The pockets bulged with camera equipment that was probably a pain to get through airport security. Camina hesitated as she absorbed more about this young man, dedicated to his career even when off the job. Finally, she smiled and took the proffered hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Camina Wattkins.” They shook as the young man finally provided his name.
“Hi, Camina. I’m Jim Thafesh, aspiring embedded journalist for the Magicorps. And I’m your biggest fan.” He shook her hand enthusiastically for probably longer than he should have then winced sheepishly through the grin that was splitting his face before finally letting go. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
“Well, Mister Thafesh, the Magicorps is always on the lookout for talented people. Why don’t you show me some of your work? If you have any yet that is?” She hadn’t thought Jim’s grin could get any bigger, yet somehow it did.
“It’s mostly just projects for school. I’m at NYU, just heading back after an internship in DC over the Summer. But, yeah, sure. I’d love to. Please don’t be too harsh?”
The last bit was a little pleading and Camina smiled with indulgent reassurance. This charming young man reminded her of her son Kyle. Chronologically, he was probably a few years younger. Practically, Kyle hadn’t really ever been young. Always a level of maturity and cautiousness that Jim didn’t exude at all.
“I promise I will not judge the work of a student harshly.” And she didn’t. He did good stable camera work. The exposures on his photos were great. The video was in focus and not shaky. He didn’t use any obnoxious filters. And his articles were factual, and non-biased while hitting all the right emotional buttons. Most importantly, he was already a level four magical license holder at the young age of twenty with an extreme sports enthusiast’s nerves of steel and adrenaline addiction.
A plan began to form in her mind. A plan that she was not proud of herself for having. No. It wasn’t even coherent enough to be called a plan. Just a sense of knowing that this young man was the kind of person her superiors wished her children had been.
I can work with this. Camina thought a little selfishly. This one can be molded for greatness.
CHAPTER 13
11:15 AM September 13th 2026
The National Museum of Unnatural Science and History
The screaming and panic had finally died down a bit as he ushered people seeking safety deeper into the museum. He and his friend had rushed to the museum with all the other people fleeing the danger of potential monsters. Unlike those panicked patrons, Kyle had known that he needed to report in and start helping coordinate the evacuees from the park.
They’d fill the lecture halls first. Then the loading dock. After that, they’d started siphoning people into the onsite restaurant where a certain Viking-looking chef who couldn’t keep the blood off himself worked.
It had been a sketchy for a few minutes there as he was fighting his way through the sea of bodies trying to help sort order out of the chaos of the crowd. But they’d trained for this. Their boss had made sure everyone drilled on safety procedures. Kyle had begrudgingly come in on days the museum was closed for the boring emergency drills that made him feel dumb pretending that he was shouting at a swarm of panicked people represented in the drill by his vampire boss doing his best impression of a stereotypical yokel. Which felt suspiciously like the vampire being racist against humans…. Yet, Kyle couldn’t help but admit, the training had paid off. Every employee who had participated in one knew what they were supposed to be doing.
Now that things had settled down, Kyle wiped the sweat from his forehead and leaned against one of the walls for support. After a moment, he decided that the adrenaline rush leaving his body had been too exhausting and he slid down the wall to rest and collect his thoughts for a bit. He’d go and report to the director that everyone had been settled soon enough.
No sooner had he taken a second to relax, than did one of the security guards come trotting up. She looked official and badass in her bulletproof vest with a radio clipped to it and her crisply pressed uniform. A gun was holstered on one hip, a wand on the other, as she came to a parade rest in front of him with her hands clasped behind her back.
She didn’t look at him, instead looking into the middle distance straight in front of her, which was somewhere through the wall above his head. Kyle had a great view of her set jaw as the perfect bun that stuck out under the back of her beret kept her hair from obscuring any part of her face. Yeah. She looked impressive as hell.
But Kyle happened to know that she was scared shitless of a certain bloody coworker.
“Mister Wattkins. I have been ordered to relieve you. The director has requested your presence.” Kyle tried not to chuckle. All the security guards in the museum were military personnel. They were here because magic was ‘dangerous’. And because if an artifact that the museum restored had military potential, then the military took it and it wouldn’t do for it to go missing before they had been informed it existed.
But the smart ones knew who Kyle was in relation to a certain famous Wattkins. This either meant that they were very respectful as they didn’t want to get known as that dumbass who fucked with the Harbinger’s kid and pissed her off. Or they sneered because they were disgusted that he hadn’t followed in his mother’s footsteps.
The profile article with its highly inaccurate description of Kyle’s actual career combined with the fact that it did not mention at all his position in the museum, had changed that somewhat. How it had done that and what they were thinking, Kyle didn’t know, but all morning long he’d been addressed as if he were a superior officer or a high-ranking civilian official. He wasn’t sure if he was being punked, or what.
“All right.” He stood with a groan. “He’s in his office?” The Magicorps soldier still wouldn’t meet Kyle’s eyes as he stood up in front of her. But she responded with the same precise and respectful tone that she and the others had been addressing him with all day. Which was, of course, the complete opposite reaction of every civilian who worked at the museum.
“He’s waiting for you in the foyer…Sir.” Oh, it had been slick the way she’d said it. If he hadn’t been sensitized to the way the lot of them had been behaving all day, he wouldn’t have noticed the slightly too-long pause that turned the ‘s’ in sir from lower to upper case.
“Err. Thank you,” he acknowledged and began to walk away. She didn’t drop her formality but completed a precise about-face and took over observing the milling evacuees. This day.
What the hell was happening?
Kyle trudged wearily down the hall and back up into the foyer. It was darker than normal lit only by the yellow emergency magic-powered lights inside the building. The big glass windows that lined the Greek-temple-esque front of the museum had been blocked when the heavy-duty metal security shutters had come down. Glowing runes and enchantment etchings in gold and blue-green glowed softly on the metal of the many jointed rolling shutters.
The foyer was still in a slight state of semi-chaos, but the military security personnel were directing traffic. They’d managed to enforce order quite effectively under Mister Arcas' instruction. Maybe it was just the weird lighting combination of the emergency lights and the magical reinforcement on the doors, but Adrian Arcas almost looked excited by events. The vampire’s burnt umber eyes glowed more brightly than normal. As if he was on the hunt.
It's probably just because of the higher ambient magic density. Kyle reassured himself. But the slight twist of sardonic smile he always wore combined with the gleam of his eyes made the pale-skinned director of the museum seem uncannily as if he was enjoying himself. It didn’t help at all that the smoothly fluidic stalk of his normal walk looked like a hunter about to pounce at all times.
“Director Arcas.” Kyle called out to get the director’s attention over the hubbub of voices. The director’s keen pointed ears could pick out someone’s location in a crowd without error just by the sound of their voice. His head snapped around and his eyes laser-focused on Kyle, that slight twist of a smile cracking into a bright fanged grin.
“Ah, Kyle.” His accent was vaguely Eastern European but not distinctive enough for Kyle to ever place. But that was probably an effect of living so long and speaking so many different languages. Right? The apprentice warlock reflected as he edged along the wall while skirting the incoming evacuees. The director turned to one of the soldiers to give a few instructions before finding his own way to join Kyle.
“You have new instructions for me?” Kyle asked when they finally met. The director was still smiling, this time a bit sheepishly as he ran a hand through his jet-black hair.
“First, I wanted to let you know what happened. An unidentified source overloaded the city’s magic collectors.” He paused to let that sink in, his glowing eyes assessing Kyle’s response carefully.
“Overloaded the collectors? The city’s collectors?” That was…That was unheard of. “It would take a monumental magical event to cause that.”
“Yes. “I’ve received a message scroll communication from the FBI’s Magic Crimes Division, and they have identified the location of the event.” Kyle nodded as he heard that. The Magic Crimes Division was good. They would be on top of any situation like that.
“Good. Good.” Briefly, he thought about his older sister. Everyone in the New York office was probably working on this.
“You are either going to be very pleased with, or very upset with what I’m about to tell you next.” The vampire sighed, clearly pausing for time as he thought of the best way to present whatever he had to say. Kyle’s heart rate, which had finally calmed down after the initial emergency alarm skyrocketed back up again as his system experienced an adrenaline dump.
“What is it, Director?” His hands were trembling, and he tightened them into fists nervously. Had something happened to Samantha? No. Clearly, it wasn’t news of a death, or his boss wouldn’t think he’d be happy.
“They are requesting a consultant from the museum meet them at the scene and provide expertise when they approach the epicenter.” Okay. Kyle thought distractedly. That’s normal. The director and other senior staff often provided consultation services on various magical phenomena and artifacts.
“All right. What are your instructions for your absence?” It was a logical question. “Or will one of the other senior staff members be taking this request?” The director’s grin widened in a way that almost looked painful. Kyle was sure it would pain him if his teeth pressed into his lips the way the vampire's fangs indented his lips.
“I’m afraid that protocol dictates that in the case of an emergency, all senior staff on hand are to remain on premises until relieved by an appropriate security force.” He winced before continuing. “But, because of the unprecedented nature of the event, they’ve requested a consultation with the Archivist.” That was understandable. Arcas ran a pale hand through his dark hair yet again. It might have been a nervous tick?
“But I’m the only Warlock of the Archivist at the museum,” Kyle stated lamely. Once again, his lack of full Warlock Status was going to hold him back. They’d send the request to another location for consultation in favor of getting a fully licensed Warlock.
Disappointment flooded him and his shoulders slumped. He wanted to sink to the floor in despair and have a good, ‘I’m not crying there’s something in my eyes’ moment. The apprentice warlock didn’t get that opportunity though because the director started speaking again.
“And I told them that. But they aren’t going to wait for the next closest Warlock of the Archivist to arrive. They can’t wait that long. So, grab your stuff. You’re about to handle your first solo artifact acquisition.”
Kyle’s mouth dropped open in shock before morphing into a face-splitting grin. His heart soared, both with excitement and trepidation. This was it. This was his chance. This was the day he became part of history instead of just studying it.
CHAPTER 14
11:42 AM September 13th 2026
Industrial Park District Near the Port of New York
Oh, this day was going down in history alright! Samantha Wattkins fumed as she carefully navigated her way through the wreckage of roads that remained in the industrial district. All she had wanted to do was work her way through the fucking mountain of paperwork on her desk. She’d been taking the jokes from all the boys in good humor and pretending that she wasn’t bothered at all so that she could trick the coworkers who’d been teasing her about the Tissue Medic commercials into a couple of practice bouts in the training rooms.
“Come on, Samantha.” Agent Alex Parker wheedled from the passenger seat. She was pressed against the door trying to avoid the sharp edges of Sam and her pact item, Gleipnir’s combined auras. “Cheer up.” Sam turned her head to glare flatly at Alex and Alex shrank back against the passenger door of the bureau sedan.
She looked to Gleipnir for help but his normal friendly glow had transmuted to a disapproving dark shadow. Gleipnir, the ribbon – or chain, depending on which translations of the myth one read - which had been used to restrain the Fenrir of ancient days, had been gifted to Sam by her patron Frigg. He, Gleipnir might have been a genderless transforming sentient magical item, but he identified as male, had changed himself into a large needle-like sword shape trailing several feet of a fine razer-sharp braided chain whip from the handle, and hovered protectively in the back seat between Alex and Sam.
“Samantha,” Gleipnir emphasized the first syllable of her name when he addressed Alex, as Sam preferred to be called, Sam. “…is not speaking to you.” Alex gave an annoyed look at Gleipnir. She hated speaking to sentient artifacts. And this particular magical artifact did not like her. It really wasn’t her fault that she’d been called ‘The Next Sam’ and ‘The New Sam’ when she first came through the training programs at the bureau. It wasn’t her fault that ‘Sam’ Wattkins thought she was better than everyone just because she was the daughter of a famous Warlock.
Alex crossed her arms in frustration. Both humans fumed in silence for a few minutes. Gleipnir hovered menacingly making a low-pitched growl or buzz. I hate being partnered with this stuck-up bitch. But Sam Wattkins was undisputedly acknowledged as The Best magical engineer in their office.
So, new agents vied for the chance to be paired with her. Except, she’d somehow managed to strong-arm her way into not being partnered with men anymore. Stupid Gleipnir kept stabbing them for coming on to Sam. The thing was a menace to society.
“You were trying to trick the guys into thinking you weren’t mad at them so you could hurt them while sparing!” The sentence just blurted itself out of Alex’s mouth as if she had no control over it. “So, I volunteered us for this assignment.” She covered her mouth with a gasp as if surprised that she had said it. Alex suspected that it was a skill or effect that Samantha or Gleipnir could cast on others. “Not as if we wouldn’t have been sent anyways with something this big.” She mumbled gloomily.
She and Sam might not get along because Sam was stuck up and Gleipnir felt like Alex’s talent was a threat to his Sam’s position, but Alex needed things to go if not smoothly, then at least without animosity and conflict while she was partnered with Sam. As soon as she could, she’d get transferred somewhere else and she’d have the prestige of having been mentored by The Samantha Wattkins on her record. The two of them just didn’t make it easy.
“I wasn’t going to hurt them…” She looked over to glare at Alex again, but the younger woman just gazed back incredulously. “Not irreparably.” Sam amended indignantly. They went back to silence for a few moments before Gleipnir spoke up again.
“Oh, your God!” He exclaimed ridiculously. Yes. We get it. You were made by multiple Gods. There is empirical evidence that there is more than one God. The junior agent also hated the way that Gleipnir seemed to flaunt his divine origins. “Look at that mess. I think we should park here and hike in.”
“Yeah. I think you’re right Gleip.” Sam replied distractedly. “It will be hella hard to turn around if we need to flee in a hurry.” She navigated over to the other vans, sedans, and armored vehicles, some unmarked and some with the FBI Magic Crimes Division emblem on them. She turned around and parked facing out.
“Should we do something to make sure we aren’t boxed in by latecomers?” Alex piped up petulantly. Sam paused getting out of the vehicle.
“Alex,” She looked at her supposed protégé with confused disgust. “We are non-combatant technicians and engineers. We are the latecomers, and we never block anyone’s route of egress. Do you understand?” Alex gulped and nodded nervously. She’d known that. Hadn’t she known that? “Answer me. Do you understand?”
“Ye...yes.” Then she grabbed the door handle and bailed out of the vehicle as quickly as she could.
“Always giving me the greenhorns fresh out of training.” Sam was muttering as she stood and waited for Gleipnir to exit the car behind her. The older agent looked up as she closed her door and met Alex’s eyes. She was entirely unrepentant about the fact that Alex had heard her. “Did I say something untrue?”
“No.” It was shot back defiantly with Alex’s regular disdain for the Warlock she thought of as a snob.
“Ohhh, whatever.” Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Sam held her hands out to the side and spoke to Gleipnir. “Hey Gleip, wanna ride?”
“Don’t mind if I do, Sam.” His tone of voice brightened considerably when chatting with his warlock and he wound his whip chain around Sam’s waist to hang himself from her hip like a sword on a belt. Somehow, the razor-sharp links that would have sliced Alex’s hand off if she touched them, didn’t harm Sam – or her clothing – in the slightest.
Tendrils of envy tried to worm their way into Alex’s irritation with her partner, so she looked around at the scene as a distraction. Focusing on work was probably the way to avoid being irritated with Miss Fancypants. The road was damaged, and the buildings that were a ways into the distance across vast industrial parking lots were cracking with a hole in the wall of at least one.
Even some of the supports for freeway overpasses looked precariously close to collapsing. She scooched about fifteen feet to the right as Samantha rummaged around in the trunk of her assigned vehicle for the tools of their trade. It was still a bright beautiful early fall day. The event had not changed the weather at all from the brilliant clear skies of this morning.
Sam stepped up next to her and began assessing the situation and gestured to Alex to follow her up to the senior agent on the scene. She ran a commentary as she walked, sharing her assessment. However, Alex suspected it was more for Gleipnir’s benefit than for hers.
“Crime scene barrier tape surrounding that vehicle.” The magical engineer glared hard at the mangled van in the center of the tape circle. “Hmm. The magic is active on it. The runes are very bright. Too bright. Like the ambient magic density hasn’t disbursed yet.” She stopped musing as she shifted her gear from one arm to another.
“Hi, Frank.” She pulled the name she needed from her memory. “Sam Wattkins, Magical Engineering Technician, reporting in.” Sam didn’t smile but her face wasn’t unfriendly beneath her businesslike expression. The Senior Agent on the scene was someone she’d worked with before. They were likable and smart enough to admit when they didn’t know what was what and defer to the technicians. “What are we looking at?”
“Sam,” The agent grabbed her hand and shook it. He was middle-aged, with laugh lines and crow's feet that gave him character which was a better look than if he’d been conventionally handsome. “Thank fucking God you are here. I have no idea what I’m looking at.”
“Tell me what data you’ve got. I see from the runes on the barrier tape that the AMD is still up in this area.” Frank shook his head in frank bewilderment.
“Yes. The tape is as close as we could safely get to that vehicle at the epicenter when we arrived.” He pointed to the mangled vehicle which she could see now was some kind of large van or delivery truck. The branding colors looked familiar, but she couldn’t make out any images or writing from this far out.
“AMD levels were in the Pink.”
“Pink?!” Alex gave a gasp of disbelieving horror. “We’re too close. We could die.” Gleipnir chuckled as Sam and Frank rolled their eyes.
“Newbie,” He patiently explained to Alex, “we’ve got mobile magic collectors bringing down the ambient magic levels.” But he didn’t waste time seeing if she was mollified by that or not and got right back to business with Sam. “The vehicle, or something in it, is emanating high levels of magic. Whatever it is must be incredibly powerful because arcanes are sustaining at purple on the
Prometheus scale even with the magic collectors working at full intake capacity.”
“Oh, shit!” Sam’s exclamation was mild as she examined the vehicle with intellectual fascination.
“Yeah. I’ve requested a consultant from the Museum.” Sam nodded thoughtfully.
“That was a good call.” There wasn’t a need to say which museum. Everyone knew which museum you called for something like this. “We’ll go in when the consultant gets here.”
They needed an expert for something like this. So much power. She could feel the magic radiating from the vehicle even from here. It was a rich, pure magic. The kind a magic user could be tempted to drink into their pores and hold for workings. It was tempting, but it was too much magic. It would twist a person, taint them, and kill them eventually.
“At purple?” Once again Alex squeaked out her surprise and both older agents gave her a flat look.”
“If arcanes are high enough for AMD to hold at purple even with magic collectors, we have to go in.” Sam tried to keep her annoyance in check, but this kid was really trying her patience. “We need to find out what it is and how to contain it before we run out of mobile collection units.” She went back to watching the still vehicle and sensed the ripples and currents of magic coming from it seeking things to join with. “Did you order up a contingent of defense specialist mages? We’re going to have monster formation soon.”
“All my agents are certified to fight monsters,” Frank assured her with his Southern drawl.
“Not like this, Frank.” Sam winced as she heard a siren going off in the distance. At first, she thought it was first responders dealing with the aftermath of a city-wide blackout or under-trained and ill-equipped law enforcement trying to deal with the first of many monsters that they should expect from this event. Instead, the siren grew closer and closer to them and a horrible realization dawned on her.
“Why does that vehicle have sirens on?” Frank grumbled as an armored vehicle with flashing lights pulled up, the emblem of the Magicorps was on its doors. “Is that the consultant? You’d think they’d know better. They’ll have any monsters in hearing range converging on us.”
“I think that was the point.” Alex watched the strange rueful-perturbed look on Sam’s face as it mottled with conflicting emotions. Then she looked at the incoming vehicle speeding over the bumps, cracks, and folded bits of asphalt that they had navigated so painfully slow around on their way here bumping and jumping over those obstacles with ease.
The armored vehicle skidded to a halt and the sirens and lights quit abruptly. Sam was glaring with extreme distaste at the young man who hopped gleefully out of the driver’s seat. He was grinning, a wild gleam in his eyes.
Short brown hair with sun-bleached golden tips, tannish, average looking, in a warlock’s robe that looked like a stylish dark-colored men’s trench coat. Maybe kind of cute? He looked good in nice clothes, a pair of slacks, a dress shirt, and a vest with a long tie and dress shoes. It was like a fictional academic warlock character had leaped out of a TV show and swaggered into real life.
“Hey, Kyle.” Sam waved and smirked at him. She clearly knew him. He stopped in absolute horror. The look of shocked betrayal and disappointment he gave Samantha Wattkins was not lost on any of the agents whose attention had been grabbed by his flashy arrival.
“No. No way.” One slim finger pointed accusingly at Sam. Alex smirked. It looked like she wasn’t the only one to see through her partner’s bullshit. “ You cannot be here.” He looked to the gorgeous autumn sky and shook a fist admonishingly then shouted. “I will not work with her!”
Then he got back in his vehicle and rested his head on the steering wheel in defeat.
CHAPTER 15
11:47 AM September 13th 2026
Industrial Park District Near the Port of New York
“When you asked for a consultant…?” Sam turned to Frank with a grimace, “What exactly did you request?” Frank raised inquisitive eyebrows as he glanced between the dejected young warlock and Agent Wattkins thinly disguised attempt to maintain her professionalism.
“I requested a Warlock of the Archivist – ” He started and Sam’s head drooped as she spoke over him.
“Of course, you did.” She sighed as he continued the sentence she had spoken over.
“ – in case the cause of the event was a known phenomenon or item.” Sighing, Sam rubbed the bridge of her nose and felt the familiar pain of ‘dealing with Kyle’s shenanigans’ beginning behind her eyes. Rubbing her eyes lightly for good measure while her hand was up there anyway, Sam Squared her shoulders and spoke. “Get ready. We’ll be going in momentarily.”
Kyle raised his head from the steering wheel when he felt his sister’s aura approaching him. He knew he was being childish, but it honestly hadn’t occurred to him that his sister would be here. Having his older sister as one of the agents on the scene when he had his first solo acquisition? Nah. That wasn’t – that was going to seem like so much nepotism. It wasn’t a good look for his career.
“Hey, Shrimp.” Her voice was quiet enough that the other agents couldn’t hear. He hadn’t thought his shoulders could droop any further, but then she brought up her derogatory nickname for him.
“Could we not make fun of my being shorter than everyone in the family but Dad in front of all the other agents?” It was an old conflict. One she relished and rubbed in any chance she got. “You’re just going to be calling attention to how freakishly tall you are.”
“I’m sorry.” His sister amended softly. “That wasn’t professional of me.” With a groan, Kyle got out of the armored vehicle as the Magicorps soldier escorting him looked up from rummaging through the gear in the back of the vehicle pretending not to listen in and failing horribly. The two siblings shared a suppressed smile.
“You shouldn’t be here Sam.” Kyle soberly scolded as he walked briskly around to the rear hatch to help sort through gear. “These kinds of arcane levels have to be from an artifact or an organic source. It’s too dangerous.” He didn’t add the words ‘for you’ to his sentence. They were implied.
“Yeah. It’s unlikely it’s from technology. But the suddenness with which the release happened smacks of technology.” The older sibling studiously ignored her younger brother’s attempt to be protective of her while Gleipnir bristled silently at her waist. “Hush, Gleipnir. Kyle’s just being a brother, he’s not insulting yours or my abilities.”
“Well, he was rude even if that wasn’t his intention.” Gleipnir’s words had the usual effect when he spoke, and Kyle rolled his eyes at the ancient magic sentient item who always took his role as Sam’s protector too seriously.
“Stop.” It was a sudden crisp order he gave to the soldier pulling gear out of the armored vehicle’s rear storage. “Err…Private? No, Lieutenant Jones.” The soldier halted with a pained look on his face.
“Sir?” The soldier’s face blanked at the address.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake Kyle, he’s a Specialist. And quit fucking with them by pretending you don’t know their ranks.” She turned to Specialist Jones and pointed at the pile of gear he was organizing. “What my brother was about to tell you is that we don’t need most of that stuff.”
“Yeah.” Kyle scruffed his hair with another wince. “Leave the bulky containment equipment in the car until we ascertain what we’re dealing with. I can guarantee that we’ll need something bigger than what we’ve brought to transport it anyway. I mean, just look at the size of the vehicle they were transporting it in and how it has deformed the walls of the cargo compartment.”
“Oh. Yes, Sir.” The soldier replied and obediently looked at the truck hundreds of feet away. He began putting the gear away.
“Leave out the portable magic collectors. Activate a spare one in the vehicle in addition to the onboard one, we don’t want our ride transmuting into a monster on us. And toss us the personal shield collectors. Put one on yourself too.” Kyle was knowledgeable enough and had ridden along enough on consultations and artifact collections that he knew what he was doing.
“Good call Kyle.” Sam offered a rare compliment to her baby brother as she caught the shielding device and strapped it on one wrist. Her brother and the soldier did the same. “Don’t activate these until we’re closer. It will prolong their use.”
“I know that, Mom.” Snark. It was Kyle’s native language.
“Yeah. But Specialist Jones didn’t.” She added peeved. They were already getting on each other’s nerves. “Make sure you activate the sensor but not the collector until Kyle or I tell you. They’ll interfere with our readings once they’re on. Ignis Promethi.”
Sam activated the Prometheus sensors on the techno-magic devices by placing two fingers on the half-heart-shaped arrow that was the symbol of Prometheus and spoke the activation spell. The enchantment flared to life and the large clear crystal glowed purple within. Her words were echoed by the two men with her.
Kyle frowned as he grabbed a fourth personal collector and offered it to Sam.
“For your partner?” She gave an ‘Ugh’ and nodded. He tossed it to her.
“I’d rather let her use the FBI standard-issue gear.” She snorted derisively. “But the museum’s work better in high AMD areas.” They turned and began heading back to the group of waiting agents. There was a cluster of them around Alex and Frank. Their bearing and the conspiratorial looks on their faces combined with the way they were speaking to each other behind the occasional hand seemed...Sam narrowed her eyes as she saw what was going on.
“Well,” Specialist Jones commented, “Those people are clearly gossiping about you two.”
“Yes,” Kyle answered with a thoughtful smile. “I guess we shouldn’t disappoint them.” He turned to his sister and for the first time since she read that article this morning, her mood lifted. Maybe she couldn’t beat some kindness into her coworkers, but as much as her brother might annoy her, he always had her back.
Samantha Wattkins grinned evilly.
CHAPTER 16
11:50 AM September 13th 2026
Industrial Park District Near the Port of New York
Frank liked Samantha Wattkins. He really did. She was competent, polite professional, and worked hard. Which was a lot more than he could say about a lot of people he’d worked with over the years.
Sure, there were people who had issues with her…if they were insecure jackasses who thought she only got her job because of favoritism. Or if they mistook her professionalism and competence for arrogance and standoffishness. Then, of course, there was Gleipnir, who was both arrogant and was an absolute void of professionalism.
So, it was normal for Frank to initially assume this was some Sam and Gleipnir had just rubbed the wrong way. After they two began speaking, however, it started to seem as if there was something else going on. He sidled over to the junior agent who had arrived with Sam Wattkins.
“You Wattkins partner?” His question was pitched low but Alex was also so distracted watching this interesting interaction that she didn’t notice the conspiratorial nature of the question.
“Uh. Huh?” The young woman spared only the briefest glance at her addresser. “Um, yes.” Her head snapped back to watching Sam and the kind of cute consultant from the museum.
“I know I shouldn’t ask but,” Frank hesitated because he’d never really participated in gossip before. “What’s the story with those two?” He nodded at the pair off in the distance and the poor Magicorps soldier awkwardly trying to avoid being noticed. “Like, is this a work thing or a…personal thing?”
“I…I…” The junior agent stuttered absorbed in the distant drama. “I have no idea. Whatever this is, was before my time.” They watched in speculative silence as Sam coaxed the younger man out of the vehicle.
“Five bucks says it’s an ex.” A third agent added as they walked up. Frank frowned but couldn’t stop watching the trainwreck in action. Inexorably his eyes would be drawn back every time he tried to jerk them away.
“I’ll take that.” Alex chimed in. “Five dollars says he dislikes her because they’ve worked together.”
“I mean,” Frank added thoughtfully, “Those two situations aren’t mutually exclusive.” Then he blushed and ducked his head before glancing back at the vehicle. The two junior agents turned their heads slowly to stare at him in awe for suggesting to them a scandal neither would have attributed to Sam on their own.
Everything seemed to be moving along and the possible former couple were smiling when Sam suddenly stopped, turned on the consultant, and slapped him viciously across the face. He staggered back with a look of disbelief. The watching agents gasped. It wasn’t all the agents, just the few who weren’t actively patrolling the perimeter of the quarantined area.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what that’s for.” Sam’s shout of pent-up betrayal almost sounded like a sob. “Now let’s just get this done so I don’t have to spend another second in your presence.
“Fine by me.” The young man cupped a cheek and rubbed it wincingly as they started walking again. The soldier with them covered his mouth as his eyes bulged in shock. He slapped his other hand to his thigh and took a second to recover from his shock. His hand was still covering the lower half of his face as they approached the cluster of senior agents.
“Alex, catch!” Sam tossed a personal magic collector and arcane sensor to her partner without bothering to see if the woman caught it. “Gear up. The faster we’re done with this the faster our consultant can leave.” The three veered toward the barrier and made a beeline for the waiting mystery within.
“Oh. My. GOD!” Alex whisper-screamed to herself as she put on the magic collector and activated the sensor. Then mouthed it a second time. Frank gave a shake of his head and turned after the trio.
“Okay, people!” He gave a bellow aided with magic to make it loud enough for all the agents on site to hear. “We’re sending the museum consultant and the magic technicians into the perimeter.”
Alex hurried to catch up, wary of getting caught in other people’s drama. Without looking at her the consultant snapped.
“Turn off your collector until we finish our readings.” How did he know? Alex couldn’t sense that much difference in the magical currents. The place was flooded with magic. She obeyed quietly.
For once, Sam seemed to be behaving humbly, letting the consultant take the lead even if she had slapped him only a few minutes ago. So, Alex turned her attention to the consultant. Despite his potential cuteness, the Warlock of the Archivist was haughty. His gaze was intensely serious, and his jaw set with determination as took measurements around the open area of devastation around the vehicle.
The asphalt, sidewalk, and parking lots nearby were ruptured and crumpled like demented accordions. Some large pieces were completely vertical with the gravel and earth beneath exposed. Water pipes and other infrastructure poked through the surface periodically.
“Okay,” Kyle exclaimed after a hike around the wasteland. “…I’ve gotten all the readings I can. Turn on your magic collectors, and stay behind me and Sam. Gleip, I need you to do your thing.”
“What thing?” Sam questioned, though she suspected she didn’t want to know.
“That thing where I drag you to safety at the slightest sign of danger whether you want me to or not,” Gleipnir responded smugly as he unwrapped his chain from his warlock’s waist.
“That’s right, my man read my mind.” Kyle held out a hand and got a high five from the tail of Gleipnir’s chain before it rewrapped itself around Samantha protectively. Both chuckled as Samantha glowered.
She tried to brush a lock of her light brown hair back in irritation, but it was already securely restrained in a ponytail so she smoothed any that might have come loose instead. Then she activated the magic collector on her wrist and tried to focus on their destination. The closer she got, the more familiar the vehicle and its branding became. Was that a giant with a crown missing a chunk out of its side standing over…
“Oh, my gosh.” Finally, the information that had been tingling in the back of her head popped into her awareness. “Kyle, the company branding. Is that Mountain King Movers?” Kyle narrowed his eyes and blocked the sun with one hand as he tried filling in the missing imagery with his imagination. Then his eyes widened, and he turned to his sister in excitement as he came to the same conclusion.
“I do believe you are right.” His gleeful exclamation was echoed by Gleipnir’s own crowing.
“Ha, ha. Yes, it is my darling Samantha. On the count of three. One, two, three…,” The sentient magic item counted down as Alex and Specialist Jones gave each other dubious looks behind Sam and Kyle’s backs. Then the two siblings and Gleipnir broke into the song from the company’s commercial set to the tune of In the Hall of the Mountain King.
“When you need to move your stuff,
Trust in us,
We are tough,
When you need to move your stuff,
We will get it done.”
Their impromptu serenade ended on laughter and the three paused for a moment then exclaimed in unison “Jinx."
“Da fuck?” Specialist Jones murmured under his breath. “I think I’m going to hate my job when those two work together.” He added thoughtfully, lost in imaginings of what other horrors they might drag him into. He was already dreading what would happen if someone reported the whole slapping incident to the museum director and word got back to his boss.
“I think I like that guy,” Alex exclaimed with a smile.
CHAPTER 17
The vehicle that seemed to be the epicenter of the magic emanations was in a depression on the ground. Kyle picked his way over and around the broken crumpled asphalt cautiously. Out of corner of his eye, he kept checking on Samantha’s progress. Not that she couldn’t handle herself, but old habits died hard. Their big brother, Davelor, had always ground it into his head that they were supposed to look out for Sam.
School had been rough for Sam. And after Gleipnir became a part of her life, things had gotten more complicated. The pact item had been both her new best friend and defender, and the cause of so very many calls from the principal. Even if it was only because he was adamantly defending his partner.
“Wait a second.” Gleipnir called out. “I’m sensing a changed in the magical currents. Is anyone picking that up?” Everyone stopped in their advance and Kyle took some more readings.
“Yes.” He confirmed, his brow furrowing at the meter. “I’m reading two sources now. One’s coming from…” Looking up at the damaged building that had been incorporated into the quarantine zone, he pointed toward the highly suspicious hole in the wall before glancing at his sister again.
“Hey, Sam.” She quirked her eyebrow at him inquisitively.
“Yes, Kyle?” Sam’s obvious wariness was not lost on her partner who tried not to snort in amusement.
“You requested defense specialist mages to back us up, didn’t you?” Kyle was kicking himself now for not remembering to ask for them himself. He’d let himself get distracted like the young impetuous man everyone older than him thought he was.
“I sure did.” She assured her brother. “I don’t know why they weren’t out here already. I mean, it’s a Purple Alert. How are we supposed to do our jobs if we get attacked by monsters while we’re out here.” The diatribe wasn’t one she’d intended on, and she blushed slightly. Working with her brother was making her act too familiar in this serious situation.
“We’ve got two major sources of magical emanation. One is from whatever is in the truck and the other is from the thing in that…is that a warehouse,” Kyle squinted against the sun again. There was just no avoiding it in his eyes today,
“...well, whatever that building is over there. He waved a hand and the loose sleeve of his warlock’s robe flopped around his wrist as he did.
“What’s your verdict then?” Sam asked affably. “You’re in charge baby brother.” Kyle’s shoulders dropped and he gave her a flat look of disgust. “What now?” The technician really wasn’t sure how she had offended her kid brother this time.
“You just blew our charade.” He gestured to Sam’s partner, Alex, who was choking on air as she processed the trick the siblings had played on everyone.
“Oh, fuck it!” He gave up and moved on to more pressing matters.
“I’m fairly certain that what we’re looking at is one dead magical creature that released most of its magic at once, which is what overloaded the magic collectors. The dead body and whatever the second source is, are still leaching magic into the vicinity. And…” he gestured at the hole in the side of the building,
“I’m not entirely sure that second one is dead. Let’s get the first thing identified before the second wakes up, yeah?”
“Heck yes.” Specialist Jones spoke up in emphatic agreement. “I have orders to remove you from the area if it’s dangerous. How dangerous is it, Sir.” Unsure why the soldier was treating her brother like he was a superior officer and not just a civilian he was guarding; Sam gave the pair a quizzical look.
“Agreed. Let’s get a closer look at what’s in the truck.” They began moving again in the direction of the Mountain King Mover’s vehicle. All the while Specialist Jones kept a hand on his weapon and alternated his watch between the vehicle and the ominous hole leading into the dark interior of the warehouse.
As they drew closer, it was plain to see that something hadn’t exploded inside the truck. Instead, it seemed as if something that was small, had suddenly gotten too large.
“Someone’s shrinking spell wore off, you think?” Sam offered Kyle who nodded grimly to her.
“That or a shapeshifter that reverted back to its full size after death.” The younger brother chimed in, sharing his theory. “I think I see flesh.”
“And blood.” Sam confirmed pointing at the red that had flowed out of various tears in the sides of the vehicle to dribble and pool congealing beneath it.
“I see scales.” Alex proffered unprompted when they’d finally gotten close enough to focus on what she could clearly confirm was damaged flesh. From his place on Sam’s hip, Gleipnir sniffed. Then he growled and snarled in a low offended voice.
“I. Smell. Dragon.” The whole group stopped at that. Kyle and Sam because…well…dragons! But the two with them gave pause for another reason.
“How the hell can you smell anything, Gleipnir?” Alex rounded on Sam and glared at the shining surface of Gleipnir’s current needle-sword-whip combination. “You don’t have a nose.”
“Ugh!” He complained angrily. “Must you humans always question my ability to sense things. I’m alive. I can see without eyes. I can hear without ears. I can feel with, well, I do touch things. Why wouldn’t I be able to smell? Good grief.” He settled down after his spiel to just grumbling about how insensitive some humans were and Kyle had to interrupt them before Alex got pulled into one of the Gleipnir debates that the pact item was famous for in their family.
“I see scales too.” Kyle verified what Alex had said and pulled his notebook out of its holster. He set it in place, hovering in the air, and flipped it open to a random blank page.
“Archive query.” He commanded. “Scale patterns of magical creatures that emit high levels of arcanes after death.” He watched images appearing in the notebook, hmming as he compared and discarding the ones that didn’t match what he was seeing before him. “Too many close matches. I need more information to go on.”
CHAPTER 18
12:00 PM September 13th 2026
Industrial Park District Near the Port of New York
“I can see a claw from over here.” Specialist Jones called out, and Kyle jogged carefully over the disrupted ground to him.
“Oh. Good. Good.” Kyle murmured as he held up the notebook to the claw over twenty feet away as if he were taking a photo. “But still need more to narrow it down.”
“Just ask about dragons.” Gleipnir cried out from where Sam was poking at one of the large cylinders of flesh poking out the side of the truck. “Eastern dragons.” He grumbled with clear frustration that Kyle hadn’t listened to him the first time. His sister glared at him in solidarity with Gleipnir but said nothing as she literally poked the huge, scaled hide with a stick she’d picked up somewhere.
“WTF Sam.?” Kyle scolded “Get back. It’s dangerous.” before crossing his arms and doing as he’d been asked. “Archive query.” Kyle stated again in exasperation. “Compare scale patterns and claw shape to dragons.” The young warlock gave his sister a ‘so-there-are-you-happy look. “Will you back away from the dangerous source of magical radiation now?”
“Yep!” Jones stated quietly from much further back than either of the Wattkins siblings. “I’mma gonna die.” Alex looked over at him dubiously.
“It’s not that bad.” Then she looked back at Sam and Gleipnir quietly arguing over whose turn it was to poke it with a stick and whether or not it was cheating for her to be using a stick instead of him. Eventually, they agreed that if Gleipnir could use the stick also, then it was not warlock infidelity of the pact item.
“Yeah, it is.” Jones confirmed. “When the Harbinger finds out I let two of her kids get within stick-poking distance of a possible dragon corpse, she’s going to kill me.” He gestured at the two Wattkins, but mostly Sam, for emphasis. Alex snorted and covered her laugh.
“Oh yeah. You’re going to die. But it’s not all bad.” She offered the soldier a ray of hope before dashing it to smithereens. “It’s my job to just follow where Sam and Gleipnir lead, so she won’t have any reason to kill me.” It was Alex’s turn to receive a flat betrayed look from Jones.
“Ha. Ha. I’m so comforted.” He replied drily.
“Alright,” Kyle shouted to get the attention of his three companions. “The archive confirms it. Gleipnir was fucking right.” Then he added in an aggrieved aside
“For once.”
“What’s that whipper snapper?” Gleipnir called out surprising Alex and Jones that he’d been able to hear something that quiet. “You got something to say, say it to my face.”
“You don’t have a face!” Kyle shot back petulantly.
“You speciest little pric – ” The magical item had unwound his whip end from Sam’s waist and made as if to come after Kyle. “Hold me back, Sam.” He ordered his warlock. “Otherwise, I’m gonna lay the hurt down on your brother.” Rolling her eyes and smiling fondly at Gleipnir, she gave Kyle a sardonic shake of her head.
“You just had to?” Her question made Kyle look down at his feet in shame. He and Gleipnir had…issues.
“Let’s head back to safety. We’ve only got a few more minute on our collector shields.” The four made the slow arduous way back to the waiting agent in charge and Sam and Kyle gave their reports.
“Frank,” Sam began. “I won’t be able to determine if there was any magi-tech involved until after we’ve gotten the vehicle to a secure lab site and properly quarantined.” She felt her phone vibrating and looked down at it. That person shouldn’t have been calling her right now, so it was probably important. Gesturing to Kyle she explained “Kyle can tell you why that is. I have to take this.” Then she peeled away to answer her call in semi-privacy.
“We are looking at the corpse of an Eastern Serpent Form Dragon with shapeshifting abilities. We won’t be able to see if there is anything else in the truck until the dragon is removed.” Frank’s eyes bulged momentarily before he rubbed an eyebrow in thought.
“When will the AMD level go back down to safe levels?” He questioned distractedly, already lost in the political quagmire this was going to be. The dragons did not like it when other species had access to their remains.
There were people who still hunted dragons for their magical properties. And yes, every nation in the world ‘officially’ recognized dragons as people, but that didn’t mean that they were treated as people. Not did it mean that dragon hunters were actually prosecuted in every country where it was ‘illegal’ in the nod and a wink kind of way. The number of magical artifacts and potions that could be created from one corpse was staggering. BIG bucks! This was going to be an incident, that was for sure.
“They won’t. Not until the remains are contained. And there is possibly another live magical creature or the corpse of one in that building over there.” Kyle pointed in the direction of the damaged wall with the hole in it. “Seeing as how whatever it is smashed a hole in the wall, I didn’t want to go check it out in case it was still alive.”
“Ho-ly sheeit!” Frank rubbed more furiously at his eyebrow. “Two sources?” Kyle nodded.
“You need the largest containment vehicles you can get, and a refrigerated warehouse with not just magical shielding but with exchangeable magic collectors that can be replaced when they near capacity.” Kyle was explaining while he spoke, much in the same way he did while giving a lecture to museum visitors. Using engaging facial expressions and gesturing larger than was strictly necessary.
“Dragon corpses continuously give off arcanes as they decompose. Dragon bones and hides will retain magic for centuries. Millenia even. If we leave this carcass here, New York would be a purple zone for at least a hundred years. Maybe longer.” He was just getting into the swing of his lecture when the senior agent interrupted.
“And there might be a living one, possibly injured, and needing help, in the warehouse?” That brought Kyle up short. He hadn’t thought of the magical source in the warehouse as being anything other than a dangerous threat. But perhaps, it could be a wounded sentient being in need of help.
“Err, um. Maybe.” He gulped down a squeaked reply. “I can’t say for sure what it is. Only that he put a hole in that warehouse and has a similar magical strength to the deceased dragon in the Mountain King Movers van.
“Oh. This day just gets better and better.” Groaning, Frank waved over to one of the agents who was holding their communications scroll. They were reading the lines of messages as they formed keeping them updated about recovery and patrol efforts all over town.
“Get on the scroll, Embry. We might have an injured magical creature on our hands, possibly an Eastern Dragon. So, we need a containment team and healers. We’ll also need more forensic specialists; this is possibly an assassination or a murder. Maybe dragon hunters. And ask them again where the hell our defensive combat specialists are.”
“Someone killed a dragon?” Embry exclaimed in disbelief before unrolling the communications scroll to the clean spot under all the previous communications.
That wasn’t good news. The combat specialist mages had not shown up yet. Kyle had just passed quite a few places where first responders had needed to help people. A magical overload destroyed a lot of electronics and a lot of people had found out that morning why it was important to use the appropriate magically safe equipment. None of those cheap knockoffs from questionable factories. The emergency lanes down the center of every street had been empty for him, but he wondered if it had been so orderly everywhere else.
“Hey, Frank.” Kyle grabbed the senior agent’s attention when he’d finished shouting. “Why do you have so few agents? This…” He gestured around at everything. “…this is huge. This is the biggest magical disaster to happen in America in hundreds of years.” Frank shook his head at Kyle, a look of clear confusion on his sweaty face.
“I don’t know.”
“What?!” Sam’s screamed cry of outrage reached them, and both turned to her in surprise. “What do you mean he never showed up? I’m coming to get you. I’ll be right – fuck!” She stopped in her panicked flight back to her car. “Hold tight Anna, Kyle’s with me. I’m sending him to get you now.”
“Anna?” Fear gripped Kyle when he heard his little sister’s name. She would have been at school. She would have been at school when magic collectors blew. Their mom was out of town. But dad would have gotten her surely! He thought frantically.
“Kyle.” Sam was wide-eyed and white faced with terror. It was a stark awful look, and a pit of horror began to open in Kyle’s stomach as he thought of all the things that could have gone wrong.
“Sam,” The warlock forced the words out calmly, through gritted teeth as he clenched his hands until his short, trimmed nails cut his palms and made him bleed. “What’s happened to Anna?”
CHAPTER 19
12:05 September 13th 2026
New York Preparatory Academy, New York, NY
“Okay.” Anna calmly ended the call and closed her phone while taking long deep even breaths. She repeated a word with each exhale. “Okay. Okay. It’s…going…to…be…okay…” Things were not okay!
But Anna shook her head to dispel that thought and moved with what felt like a preprogrammed deliberation as she removed the battery from her phone and returned it to the magically hardened case that she kept the charged spare in. Then she carefully peeked her head up over the desk she was hiding behind with Sara, Dean George, one of Sara’s friends who hadn’t been picked up yet, and three of the school’s security guards.
It had been going so well after the event. Ridiculously well.
Now it wasn’t.
How had things gotten to this point?
How…?
This is how:
To say that things had been hectic after everything blew would be an understatement.
Dean George had stepped up and handled it admirably well. She also had some really choice words for the contractor that the school’s board had used to ‘update’ the safety infrastructure. Seriously, Anna had heard words she’d never even knew existed and had stared in awe with the other three suspended students as Dean George cursed a river of vitriol that would go down in her mind as one of the most important moments of history.
The Assistant Dean would live, thanks to Dean George’s quick thinking and the school nurse also being a level eight licensed healer. She’d come running from the nurse’s office when Anna had breathlessly come running in for help. The woman had already had her potions and med-kit in hand and was about to make the rounds when Anna had arrived, too out of breath to even speak. Instead, the nurse had told her to just lead the way.
Once the wounds the Vice Dean had received from his computer exploding into him had been stabilized, Dean George had rallied the security team and sent them with the head nurse to assess injuries. Then she’d made sure that the assistant nurse was staying put in the nurse’s office to receive any patients that came looking for help. And once she was alone in the administrative office and everyone else had been shuffled off to carry out her orders, then Dean George had walked into her personal office, shut the door behind her, and screamed her fury for a full two minutes.
It was glorious!
Afterward, she’d walked out of her office into the main administrative office, calmly straightened her suit jacket and skirt, then held out her hand to Anna.
“Miss Wattkins,” Her voice was smooth, even, prim like always and ever so polite and matter of fact. “The Academy would be extremely grateful if you would allow the administration to borrow your phone during this emergency.”
The Assistant Dean was still staring at his superior mouth agape. Sara and cronies turned to Anna in suspicion, and Anna’s jaw dropped.
“How…how did you know that I would have a working phone?” There were so many other things she could have said at that moment like; ‘that was amazing, I don’t even know what half those words mean’, or ‘you are the coolest dean ever’. Instead, she’d chosen; how did you know I have a working phone? It’s official. I am not cool. She shook her head internally.
“Anna,” the dean glanced away with an embarrassed sigh and tucked a loose strand of hair behind an ear before continuing. “It’s my job as dean, to know my students, their potential, their weaknesses, and any danger they may pose to their fellow students. Your magical capacity is high enough that if you lost control, you would…damage electronics. So, I assume you either have a magically hardened phone, or a backup battery in a magically hardened case to protect it.
It's standard military procedure anyways. So…?”
She cocked her head to one side, looking at Anna expectantly. And Anna had shrugged and gotten out her phone and the battery in its case. Then she handed it over.
“Right. You four are going to be my assistants.” Dean George continued brusquely. “And if you don’t tell anyone about my little meltdown, I will teach you what the words you didn’t recognize meant.” Ooohhhh! Anna hadn’t been planning on telling…no scratch that. She’d been planning on telling everyone because it had been so fucking epic.
“What do you need us to do boss?” Anna had smiled up at the dean who looked at the other girls waiting for their response. They’d smiled their evil little smiles, traded glances among each other, then shrugged and agreed. For now.
Then the dean called nine-one-one for assistance. Students and faculty all over the campus had received injuries. Some minor, some not so minor. The security guards had locked down the campus and made sure no students wandered off.
That was how Anna found herself helping to coordinate the evacuation of the school with her mortal enemy. It wasn’t fun per se, but she got to wear a bright neon yellow-green emergency vest as she ushered the first responders to various locations throughout the campus or escorted students to the front doors when a family member, or representative came to pick them up.
It kept Anna occupied so she wasn’t straight up freaking out. But it also made her worried about her dad. He hadn’t come for her. It had been literally hours since the dean called him, and he hadn’t come.
Mom was out of town. Yeah. So, she couldn’t expect her mom to come get her.
But her dad? He had his own practice. He could have rescheduled an appointment. Or called the school between appointments to let them know when he’d be able to come get her. He could have even had one of her older siblings come get her.
But nothing?
That wasn’t normal.
Was it?
They had to evacuate. It was clear that the school didn’t have the appropriate magical shielding or protections. With arcane AMD levels at Prometheus Purple, they needed to evacuate quickly. Not even the dorms for the international students were considered safe. And since the dorms had originally been built with protections, it was clear that the renovations that had updated the school had also stolen a lot of valuable material from it.
The dean had managed to secure a large room at a conference center not far from the school. She’d pulled strings and gotten a bus company to send out magically hardened buses and there was a steady stream of luxury tour busses ferrying students to the relative safety of the conference center. Many kids had actually been picked up by parents, chauffeurs, family security, in limos, armored luxury vehicles, and even a couple of helicopters that nearly collided over the lawn.
CHAPTER 20
Still telling Anna’s Flashback September 13th 2026
New York Preparatory Academy, New York, NY
As the students and faculty were evacuated, so was the very expensive private security that the academy employed. More than half the students had left with about half the faculty and security. And Anna admitted to herself as she ran from one classroom to another notifying teachers of when there was a bus ready for them and their students, things had been going well.
Too well.
It was Prometheus Purple out there.
Where were the monsters?
That’s what some of the other kids were grumbling about. The city kids. The students from the U.S.A. They didn’t know.
America had magic collectors and defensive perimeters around their cities.
America had an entire branch of the military dedicated to monster defense. That was in addition to every branch of the military and law enforcement organization being required to have at least twenty-five percent of their service members qualified as level eight magic license mages.
There hadn’t been a city-wide monster incursion in decades. Because the colonists of this great nation had learned. They had learned from Roanoke what happened when you ignored the warnings the natives gave about the things magic did to people here. They had learned from Salem the depravity of demons who preyed upon young warlocks. They had learned that the only way to live here was to conquer magic, reduce ambient levels in population centers by capturing it, and incorporate its use into their lives.
So…where were the monsters?
They were coming. Anna didn’t know when, or how, or what form they would take, but Anna knew it was inevitable. She redoubled her speed as she sprinted down the hallway to the next teacher in line. They’d started with classes furthest from the front gate so now, with only half of the student body left, she only had half the distance to run.
It was still taxing. Her legs were starting to get a burn in them from the constant relay back and forth. Sara and one of her friends had kept up, not surprising as they were cheerleaders and the school’s team trained competitively. One of the group was on the swim team and she did not fare well. Her legs were trained for a different kind of athleticism.
Honestly, Anna had been surprised that she was as fast as the others. Sure, she wasn’t out of shape. But she wasn’t in sports. She ran with her mom, participated in mom’s mandatory physical fitness training, and self-defense instruction with Sam, because her mom hit too hard even when she pulled her punches. Yet, she honestly hadn’t considered herself to be genuinely athletic.
“Mrs. Deville?” Anna called out as slid to a stop in front of the ninth-grade history teacher’s classroom. “The buses are on their way back, they’re ready for your class at the front office.”
The nervous woman, turned from her fretful watching out the window and smiled with relief. It always struck Anna as odd that someone so stunningly beautiful – even oblivious Anna could tell that Mrs. Deville was more than supermodel gorgeous – had chosen teaching as their profession. Many of the petty girls whispered that she’d used magical enhancements to make herself prettier, as if those same girls didn’t do the same.
“Oh. Excellent. Class...” She clapped her hands together several times, making the flowing sleeves of her dress flutter. “Like we practiced in drills. Line up and follow Miss Wattkins to the front.”
“You’re not coming with?” Anna asked with alarm when she realized that the teacher was not ready to leave campus. She lived in the on-campus housing with her husband and they each supervised one of the dormitories for the international students. The resident faculty had been instructed to prepare for evacuation along with the students they supervised. “You don’t have anything to take with you?”
“I’ll escort the students part way.” She assured Anna, nervously pushing a strand of brown hair with tints of green in it out of the way. “I’m not leaving without my husband. The dean knows.”
It always felt to Anna, like Mrs. Deville was extremely young. Though rumor was she’d been around for years. The woman blushed when she mentioned her husband and her voice got a little shy. Like was that just what happened to someone who was madly deeply in love with someone else? Because that was not even a little bit how her parents acted. Though, to be fair, Anna didn’t think that anything could make her mother blush.
“I’m right here.” Marax Deville called from down the hallway. He was hurrying up, his massive bodybuilder–esque frame trailing a grey cloak or cape – Anna could never decide which it was – from the epaulettes of his jacket. His cloak-cape seemed to change shape and style as necessary. It was yet another thing the students whispered about.
The huge man dressed like nineteenth-century royalty in military dress. Without the ribbons and symbols of rank of course. He could have stepped right out of a history book with his deep blue and dark grey heavily starched uniform and heavy epaulettes and gold braids. And he had this musty sulfur smell to him – magically, he didn’t actually stink – of hot stones and metal that always made Anna suspect him of sketchy magic. You know, the kind that was outlawed and resulted in priests and paladins showing up.
Wherever the case may be, his wife smiled a huge blossoming smile that made her already supernaturally beautiful face even more radiant. If one were to ignore their suspicions about Mister Deville, one could grudgingly admit that the couple were adorable. And maybe even have shipped them before they started dating.
“Right. Then since everyone’s here, let’s go.” Anna spun around just as the shattering of glass was followed by the crash of desks being overturned…and shrieking. Of course, there was shrieking.
“I was afraid that this was going to happen.” Eik Deville sighed like a monster crashing through the wall of her classroom was a normal everyday kind of inconvenience. “The arcanes have been twisting up pretty badly over there. I suspect this is just the first of a herd formation.”
CHAPTER 21
Not all the students had finished evacuating the class and Mrs. Deville acted quickly to protect the ones still inside it. Raising her hands, she cast the wildest, rawest, purest nature magic that Anna had ever sensed. The perfectly manicured lawn and the flowers outside of her classroom window experienced a massive growth spurt. Whips of grass sprang up over a dozen feet in length to snap around the stubby rubber legs of the transformed motorcycle that had been parked in the faculty parking lot until a few minutes’ prior.
“We’ll hold this breach.” Marax chimed in chipperly with his proper British accent. He even sounded like royalty. He ran a large hand through his dark hair and winked one of his dark eyes reassuringly at the students as they fled past him to join Anna. The motorcycle monster was gnashing its teeth and struggling to get free from his wife’s magical grip.
“Honey. Could you hurry?” She called out sweetly, clearly trying to hide the edge in her voice from the students. “There’s only so much one can do with grass and shrubbery against metal and teeth.”
“Of course, my love.” He blew his wife a kiss suavely and his eyes began to glow red. His long head transformed into that of a bull as if he’d suddenly become a minotaur. Or had the image just superimposed itself over his face. Anna couldn’t tell. It happened so quickly and smoothly.
Practice. This is why practice is important. Even in this time of crisis, Anna could imagine exactly what her mother would say. Or maybe it was just what she herself thought about any skill. If you want it to work right when you needed it, then practice it when you don’t.
“Run child.” Marax Deville called over his shoulder as he blasted a good old fashioned fireball spell at the creature and was immediately accosted by another coming in through the broken windows. “The herd is manifesting.” Anna’s shock stilled her for a few seconds longer before she shouted at her terrified schoolmates.
“Go. Go. Go.” She waved them past her down the hallway back the way she had come. “To the front entrance.” Screams and crashes of glass were coming from the other classrooms as other monster-formed vehicles from the parking lot found the unevacuated classrooms along the route to the front of the school.
“Oh. Shit!”
It was murmured quietly as she began running after the others, bringing up the rear. Then she stopped short. The hallway began to fill as more students and teachers streamed into it from the compromised classrooms. But only the classrooms on one side of the hallway. She stopped short at the first one and waved the students out.
“Evacuate to the front office.” Anna shouted at the students as she waved them down the hallway preventing them from fleeing in the wrong direction. Peering over the heads of the older students he could see Miss Callahan, a non-magic user heroically trying to fend off the metal and rubber beast that had invaded her classroom.
The petite Asian woman, Anna had never found out which actual nationality she was, was holding a tall metal stool by the seat and brandishing the long legs at the creature sobbing defiant invectives at the monsters in a desperate last stand. The small woman, smaller than Anna herself was, was cornered. If she fled, there would be nothing between herself and the students. If she didn’t flee, she’d be overrun. As Anna watched horrified, one of the jocks in back of the crush of bodies caught the look on her face. He followed her helpless fatalistic gaze and noticed their teacher’s plight.
“Miss Callahan!” Anna vaguely recognized one of the few lower classmen who were taller than she as he shouted in alarm. No, you idiot! While it was brave of the boy to try, Anna had to groan internally at the fact that any actions he took would just divert the attention from the doomed teacher onto the students. And without magic, he wasn’t going to make a positive difference.
Or maybe not. The blonde boy picked up a whole desk like it was no heavier than the light stiool that the monsters were gradually eating the legs off of to Miss Callahan’s absolute despair. Wielding it as both a defensive shield and a weapon, the boy set his shoulders determinedly and called out to the motorcycle monsters.
“Come pick on someone your own size.” A shocked short laugh of incredulity burst out of Anna. Really? Did, did I really just live that trope? He just said that? When he’s about to feed himself to monsters? One of the monsters turned. It was hundreds of pounds. They were all over a hundred pounds. The only thing allowing the students time to flee is that the heavier motorcycle-form monsters weren’t strong enough to break through the wall beneath the windows and were too heavy on their new stubby rubber legs to climb over the wall.
But the car-forms were coming.
One of blondie’s friends saw him taking a stand and frantically tapped a few others to try and help. Only two chose to stay behind, lifting chairs or desks of their own, and Anna started trying to shove her way into the room against the tide of exiting students. True, it had only been seconds, but it felt like forever.
Finally, the line of students were past her and running in the direction she’d shouted at them. Anna rushed into the nearly vacant classroom except for the four moped and motorcycle-form monsters. Then she stopped. Because…what the hell was her plan? She couldn’t just run into the chaos. Fighting with chairs was stupid against large heavy creatures.
And past the empty window frames, across the manicured lawn, the larger vehicles in the parking lot were stirring. Their dead headlights lit up with eerie glows. Wheels lost their roundness, becoming short stubby legs. Grills and windshields turned into gaping maws, some with glass for teeth and some with metal teeth. Death in aluminum and steel lumping toward the school.
“Right.” Nodding, Anna knew what she needed to do and pulled her hair back from her face. The loose strands were distracting her. “Time to seal the breach.” Maybe she shouldn’t have done it the way she did, but this was the first time Anna would ever use her magic in a life-or-death situation. This was fine. She could do this. She just needed to take the time to do it right.
CHAPTER 22
Anna took a bracing stance and squared her shoulders. Then she took a few deep even breaths summoning her magic. Something that had never been hard. It was always there, swirling under the surface of her consciousness, looking for an opportunity to break free of her control. Now was no exception. Her power surged like a wild animal trying to bolt from her body in any haphazard way.
No! She thought at her magic, talking to it in her head as if it were a separate entity. Not like that. Not all at once. Measured. Directed. Anna was willing to swear to any being in existence that her magic really did have a mind of its own. It was something she had to coax into cooperating with her sometimes.
The room chilled, the air temperature dropping swiftly. Then the frost came. It didn’t creep as it radiated out from her feet across the floor and up the walls. Crystals of ice forming and coalescing into icicles hanging from the chairs and desks. The American flag over the blackboard became too heavy for the mount attaching it to the wall. It cracked from where it was and crackled with the tinkling of ice when it hit the floor.
Everyone trying to fight monsters had noticed when the floor suddenly slicked. Though the monsters had rubber feet, their ungainly forms led them to lose their balances as they slipped on the new surface. One of the boys turned wildly to see what was happening, something he was only able to do because of the opening the change in the battle had given him.
“Anna?” Anna recognized the voice, but she couldn’t place it. Her dark brown eyes had closed as she concentrated on reigning in the seemingly endless well of elemental power within her before it could become a raging torrent. The sounds of receding screams and other desperate battles in the adjoining classrooms faded from her hearing.
Time slowed as she lifted her hands to direct the flow of her magic.
When she opened her eyes to aim, they were no longer their normal dark brown, nearly black. Her eyes glowed an icy bluish white. Magic-touched in the use of her element like her white hair showed the world her ice affinity.
“Move.” She commanded the group of boys she now recognized as being from the football team. “Help Miss Callahan and get behind me.” They scrambled carefully to help the petrified teacher. Only one of the monstrosities she had been fighting was still after her and it was having enough trouble maintaining its footing that she had managed to flee on top of her desk and was throwing staplers, erasers, and other office supplies at it.
Miss Callahan shrieked as the tall blonde boy grabbed her from behind and hauled her away from the creature trying to eat its way through the desk she sat upon. At first, she struggled, thinking she had been attacked by something that had snuck up on her. He spoke to her soothingly as he wrestled her behind Anna and toward the door.
“It’s Liam. Miss Callahan. It’s Liam Ecclestone. We’re leaving. Come on.” She’d sagged in relief for a second until he said that they were leaving.
“But there’s still a student.” The petite math teacher protested. “I can’t leave a student.” One small hand pointed at Anna.
“Get out of here,” Anna shouted at the teacher even as she herself was backing carefully away from the monsters who were getting used to the mechanics of moving on the icy floor. They were scrabbling frantically towards her and she didn’t like how close they were getting. “I don’t have enough control to use my magic while you are still in the room. Not for the amount I need to use for this.”
Her eyes left the immediate danger to check the progress of the herd. There were much larger creatures coming now. Sports cars and sport utility vehicles were bad enough. Dangerous in and of themselves. But there was a limo-form monster that seemed to have crossed with a centipede or a millipede and become a Lovecraftian horror worthy of the Eldridge classics.
Nope. She was done. Anna was not going to fight that. She would yeet herself right the fuck out of there like a coward. It had rows of gnashing teeth in a maw half the length of its body. Those teeth were backed by a thready baleen looking kind of organ which as she watched shredded a smaller slow to waken moped-form monster. It cried piteous honking cries as it was sawed by the vibrating razers of the baleen until it gurgled black oil blood in death.
“Oh, the hell with this.” The young elementalist’s voice shivered with her emotions. She didn’t wait to see if the room had been evacuated like she’d instructed but released her hold on her magic. Just enough. Just enough to let it out and form the far-reaching effect she needed for the construct she was building.
It was simple. Just an ice wall. But it was fast and dirty and stretching not only the length of the windows in the classroom but along that entire side of the building. She was following the flow of her power as it greedily gobbled up territory. As an elementalist, forming the ice wall wasn’t a spell like it would be for other magic users. It was just the form of power she had. The school was large and the row of glass windows that provided literally no protection from the approaching monsters stretched…
For the first time Anna was grateful that she had more untapped magic than she had ever wanted or needed. Her magic power was something she had always been angry about. Who could possibly ever need this much ice magic? Ice. Element. Magic.
But she did. Anna needed it now. She needed to have the ability to sense the course of the ice as it traveled over unbroken windows. Her affinity for the ice told her when her wall construct needed create a bridge and cover gaps in broken architecture. It told her when she needed to leave a hole because a student two classes down was being pulled out the window by a retreating monster and his classmates helping him needed a few more moments to pull him back into the room after a spike of ice punch out from the wall to skewer the monster trying to eat him.
Then it was done. The breaches were sealed. For now. But it didn’t do anything about the monsters already in the building. There were…a few. Dozens.
“Holy shit, Anna.” Someone exclaimed behind her. Turning, Anna realized that it was the blonde boy. He looked familiar. What had he said his name was?
Crap. Liam? Anna’s eyes narrowed unfriendlily at him.
This was the kid Sara had the hots for? The guy that just got me suspended? While it wasn’t technically his fault, Anna couldn’t help but be irritated at him for the mere fact that he had unintentionally made her the object of more of Sara’s ire. It may have affected the next words that ran through her mind. Come on girl. Could this guy be any more generic?
Which… Anna admitted was an unfair evaluation of the boy. He was clearly brave, stupidly so. And he was conscious enough to know her name even if they weren’t in the same class. Though, to be entirely honest, there weren’t a whole lot of people in the city who didn’t know her name. So….
Why was she standing around glaring when she should be running?
Right!
CHAPTER 23
Not waiting for anyone else in the little group to come to the same conclusion she’d come to, Anna peeled out of the classroom stumbling and sliding into the hall only to be stopped short when the texture of the floor surface changed suddenly in the dark-un-frozen hallway. Though she’d managed to encase many of the smaller monsters in ice, there was still the sound of battle coming from Mrs. Deville’s classroom where she knew a car-form had challenged the couple there.
It actually sounded like Mister Deville was having fun despite the noise as he was shouting things like, “Come to daddy.” and “Take that you fowl beast.” But when he called out, “Babe, watch this and toss me some of the condoms from your purse because this bastard is about to get fuc – ”
The words were drowned out by a clearly pained roar or grinding metal-organic gears. It cut short suddenly which meant it was probably dead and Anna grimaced at the weirdness of adults as she shook off the sound of Mrs. Deville exclaiming breathlessly to her husband.
“Oh, Marax, that was amazing.” She giggled. Giggled. And the white-haired teen turned to the boys and the teacher behind her as she shuddered before gesturing for them to go.
“That ice isn’t going to last long against the big thing out there. It’s just hiding us from it for now. Go. Go to the main entrance where the busses are coming in.” Two of the boys ushered their teacher between them and Liam came up to Anna.
“What about you?” He questioned intently. “What are you doing?” Anna didn’t have an exact answer for him but she had the vague outlines of a plan.
“I’m going to try and help anyone who needs it and make it as difficult as possible for anything that gets in here to follow.
“An excellent plan, Anna.” Marax Deville walked up with his wife linked arm in arm. Lian gave a shout of fear when he saw the professor’s bull-head. It must have been a transformation because some of his wife’s lipstick was smeared across the lips of his bull form to disappear into the fur of his muzzle. The lipstick wouldn’t have been visible on an illusion. “Buck up boy,” he dusted some frost off Liam’s shoulder. “It’s just me.” Liam leaned back a bit but he didn’t flinch much at the professor’s touch.
“Thank you, Mister Deville.” As she said the name, Anna watched Liam begin repeatedly mouthing it questioningly at Anna behind Marax’s back, pointing at what appeared to be a tall demon in what was clearly an imperial style military uniform. The boy was distracting her from what the teacher was saying.
“Anna, with me. We’ll clear this corridor room by room sending any surviving stragglers ahead to evacuate.” He cocked his head at Anna quizzically as she alternated nodding at the instructions that the powerful minotaur was giving her and shaking her head at Liam to stop. “Are you paying attention, Anna?”
The minotaur narrowed his eyes at her then glanced over his shoulder to Liam who shrank back as Anna mouthed, ‘Shut up!’ at him. Mrs. Deville giggled at the interplay between the trio. Liam sidled over to stand beside Anna, maybe slightly behind her. The minotaur’s narrowed eyes followed the boy suspiciously.
“I’m ready, Sir.” Anna volunteered to get his attention off of Liam who was not nearly as brave in the presence of a friendly teacher who looked slightly different than normal, as he had been in front of mindless monster machines. “I wanted to seal the hallway with an ice wall after each classroom to cover our retreat.”
“Ughm.” That caught the teacher off guard as he made a disappointed sound somewhere between a cough and an ‘um’. Anna didn’t know what his problem was, but she didn’t want to keep standing around talking. She could sense the ice wall slowly losing structural integrity from the monsters assaulting it. There were still people shouting in some of the populated rooms.
“I’d like to leave a route open back to this location.” The demon minotaur exclaimed in his deep bestial voice with an incongruous British accent. “Eik,” He gestured to his wife holding his arm and leaning her head against his shoulder.
“She’s going to stay here and guard our rear. I will come back to help her after everyone evacuates.”
“Riiight.” Anna glanced at the absurdly beautiful young teacher, not entirely believing that she really wanted to stay behind. Anna had seen with her own eyes just how powerful the woman was and that she had not been strong enough to face down the monsters on her own. Liam began to speak up something that would have been stupid anyways and Anna elbowed him to keep his mouth shut.
“If that’s what you want to do, Mrs. Deville?”
“It is.” The teacher smiled brilliantly. “I have means of protecting myself that I can’t use around others.” She explained in her kind and gentle way, alleviating almost all of Anna’s concerns. “I’m the best choice to hold the rear.”
“Okay.” That was fine. That, actually, made a lot of sense.
“Liam, you be ready to escort any survivors to safety, Mr. Deville instructed.
“Anna, you’ll be my defensive support. Raise shields in front of me while you stay in position behind me and to my right. I’ll enter each room first. Once the entrance is clear to the right, I’ll enter and go to the left and you will enter to the right. Hold and clear that corner while providing supporting cover fire with ice spikes and creating ice wall barriers as necessary.”
“Yes, Sir.” Her heart was pounding. Part of Anna was frightened of what they would find. But part of her, was rejoicing just a little bit that she was going to be using more of her magic.
“Have you done this before, Anna?” Liam hissed a bit loudly as she followed Mr. Marax dutifully.
“Yes.”
“Yes?” It came out as a high-pitched yelp.
“I assumed you had gotten at least some basic training from your mother.” Marax commented a little self-satisfied that his assessment had been correct.
“Never with monsters this large before. Never without my mom and sister there leading me.” It was whispered thoughtfully. Marax just nodded amiably.
“This will be the same. But we may be too late to save everyone.”
CHAPTER 24
Another group of students ran past Anna, helping the injured as they went. They’d cleared eleven classrooms. No dead yet. No dead people. At least, none that they saw.
There had been monsters. Dead or dying. Mr. Deville used an obsidian battle ax he’d summoned from somewhere that glistened with dripping liquid flames. Crimson, like blood, the flames splattered as he’d swung his heavy blade with its stout hilt. Each drop of fire elicited howls of pain from any monster it touched.
The blood flames – as Anna had come to think of the flaming substance on Mr. Deville’s ax – soaked into the metallic flesh of the monsters to rising wisps of steam. It smoked like it burned them where it touched, but merely sputtered out wherever it fell on non-living matter. He’d used it to decapitate the smaller monsters, killing them with swift, efficient, sizzling strokes.
When the transformed teacher had pulled a weapon as black and glisteningly deadly slick as the enormous horns on his bovine head out of nowhere, it had pretty much confirmed to Anna her suspicion that maybe he wasn’t entirely on the up and up with his magic. Because it was dark. He’d performed spells on some of the larger monsters that Anna was certain were against the Covenants.
They’d also found blood…in the classrooms.
There was some blood and Anna couldn’t help wondering if the people it belonged to had survived. Was it students? Teachers protecting their students? Or was it the security contractors that got paid truckloads of cash to protect the children of the uber wealthy?
The private security contractors still on campus had been doing their jobs protecting students and ferrying them to safer areas of the building. But many of the students and teachers in this wing had broken and ran when the monsters attacked. And that was okay. They weren’t trained for this kind of thing. Running had probably saved a lot of them.
However, it made it a bitch of a time trying to determine if any of them had been dragged away and eaten.
Mr. Deville crept up to the door of the next room with his new protégé attempting to be stealthy behind him. It was getting less awkward, and honestly, less scary with each room. This next class, however, brought Anna’s anxiety levels back up to at least eighty percent. Anna could sense her ice had frozen a monster in place partway into the room with its rear suspended outside of the building. It had been an imperfect catch, and the nasty creature was working itself free.
So, at the very least, there was one monster who she and Mr. Deville needed to worry about possibly dealing with. She resolved to bury it in ice as soon as she had a clear shot. But for now, she focused on watching the silent hand signals that the minotaur was giving her after his first peek through the window on the classroom door. Three fingers, then pointing to the left. Two fingers, then he pointed to the right. Monsters or monster bodies is what it meant. Three to the left and two to the fight. A hand flat, palm down, people.
Anna’s eyes widened with questions that Mr. Deville stopped with tilt of his head, some raised eyebrows, and a stern shake of one admonishing finger. Right! The teen elementalist nodded agreement. Later. When they were sure it was safe to talk.
Then the door had been opened and the minotaur was hurling fireballs and a spell that made a wounded monster that had corned three people screech with a dizzying resonance. Swallowing, Anna gulped down her fear and followed the teacher into the room before turning to her responsibilities on the right. Anna hadn’t been carrying a weapon anywhere on her when the emergency started so she’d created a shield out of ice to cover one arm and protect herself. For killing monsters, the elementalist had manifest a shaft of ice that she could reform into a sword, a spear, or a mace as needed. So far, she hadn’t actually needed to use her armaments.
That didn’t last long.
There were two barricades in this room. On separate sides of the room. The room was dim and the light filtering through the ice wall was mellow and tinted ever so slightly blue.
This was fine. But the monsters were alive and though they’d been distracted working their way through a mountain of desks and chairs toward what may or may not have been living people. Okay. She could do this.
Anna stayed far back from the monsters that were easily twice the size of a school desk and many times the weight of one. They were still not moving all that nimbly on their stubby rubber legs. One even seemed to have ‘flat tires’, and its feet flapped flatly as it hopped like a happy dog expecting treats and pats toward her. Except that Anna was the treat it wanted to eat.
Anna had kept her elemental magic near the surface and she focused it through the makeshift sword, aiming it at the creature coming toward her. For a second, just a second, she hesitated. The monster had a lolling tongue and what had once been handlebars flopped on either side of its one-eyed head like ears. A floppy eared cyclops motorcycle monster, that flapped like a its feet as it happily struggled toward her. Like an oversized excited puppy, or a demented metal and rubber seal.
It was cute. And it liked her.
That was why she hesitated. Frozen with the inability to bring herself to kill someone so sweetly innocent looking, she almost hesitated too long. Then she saw the monster slip in a pool of blood. Saw the blood on its teeth. And she remembered.
It wasn’t cute.
It didn’t like her.
It just wanted to eat and kill.
So, she shot it. First it was just an ice spike that flowed like a flash of light from the tip of her sword. Then it was a steady stream coating the monster’s entire body, weighing it down. It slowed but not quickly enough, getting uncomfortably close before it was completely encased in ice and unmoving.
Anna sighed with relief then shrieked as another monster came from her right. Raising her sword, she was just barely in time for the thing to impale itself on the lightweight weapon. But it was big and heavy.
“Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap.” She fed ice magic through the sword and into the monster, scrabbling backward in panic.
CHAPTER 25
When trying to freeze the monster from the inside didn’t work, Anna started to panic. So, she hit it. With her shield. The ice shield. The first few bashes with her shield didn’t do much at all, so she focused her power and sharpened the edge of the shield to hack at the back of the monster’ neck.
Oily blood splattered her face along with flakes of ice shattering from her shield. Grinning at her success, the teen redoubled her efforts and adjusted the thickness of her sword lodged in it. The blade widened and bit gradually into the metal flesh of the monster’s chest even as she hacked its neck apart from above. Then, with a push of the magic that struggled to escape her, she sliced the beast in half from the center outward.
Her blood was rushing her through her fourth or fifth adrenaline high of the day. It was amazing. She’d done that. She’d fought monsters.
“Nice work.” Mr. Deville called over his shoulder as he pulled down a barricade to get at the bodies behind it. “How much more of that do you have left?”
“Of what, Sir?” Anna was making her own way toward the barricade on this side of the room checking if the people behind it were alright.
“Stamina.” The teacher clarified. “How long can you modulate your magical control.” She slowed as she began pushing pieces of desks and chairs out of her way, wading through the mess to reach what she hoped was a living person.
“Oh. Four hours without a break. Ow. Stupid metal shards.” She cursed as she stubbed her tow through her shoe.
“Hmmmmm…?” The thoughtful tone from the teacher made her eyebrow rise as she turned to glance at the minotaur over her shoulder. “Good.” They worked without speaking then. “Got a body.” She called out hesitantly before a groan made her amend her statement. “Oh. This one’s alive.”
It was one of the security contractors, half buried under the barricade. It looked like when the students had scrambled out that the pile of furniture had fallen on him. He didn’t look seriously harmed, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t.
“I’ve got two over here.” The teacher added. “Do you know any healing magic? Can you get him up and moving?” That made Anna hesitate…because of the caveat.
“Erm…I could…” The girl started as she continued moving furniture. “But then I wouldn’t be able to do anything else.”
“Right.” From the other side of the room, she heard a pause in the moving of metal and the distinct smacking of a large hand into a fury horned head.
“Elementalists lose magical efficacy in magics that aren’t affiliated with their element.” Anna had thought that was the end of it before the teacher continued.
“We’ll need to work on that. But another time. Not today. You need your full strength today.”
His words made her shudder with a dread chill, and Anna was terrified wondering what else the teacher could sense beyond the ice wall that she couldn’t with her limited affinity. Another sound drew her attention to the ice wall, and she saw the monster she had trapped there struggling to get free. Oh yeah. I forgot about that one while I was dealing with the other two.
With a distracted nonchalance Anna raised one hand and froze the monster in the wall all the way over. Through the new stream of magic, she reconnected with the existing ice construct and extended it around the back of the monster also. She made adjustments to her control and continued uncovering the security guard while strengthening the ice wall construct.
Before long, two security guards had been revived by the minotaur and he resuscitated the man Anna had uncovered. They continued their room-clearing retreat and Anna sealed the room behind them. That was the last room they found that had been breached and the rest of the classes had been evacuated.
That didn’t matter though. The limousine-form-centipede monster was making its way through the outbuildings. Mr. Deville passed Anna off to Dean George before heading back down the dark hallway to his wife. Anna was soon distracted.
“Dean George,” the school’s head of security spoke like he was reporting to a superior officer in the military. He had that look about him, Anna had noticed, and she wondered if he was from one of those civilian contractor firms that her mom was always bitching about. “The majority of faculty and students have been evacuated to a hospital or to the alternate location. It’s just the last two busloads waiting to leave.”
That was good to know. Anna was ready to go. She’d had enough of a monster experience for this emergency and she wanted to sit down and relax for a bit.
“Good.” The dean nodded acknowledgement dabbing away some perspiration from her face. “Are we ready to go?” The security chief checked an enchanted gauntlet he had strapped to his arm where a mini message scroll was keeping him apprised of his men’s movements.
“Yes.” His brow furrowed with concern a moment before his head snapped up.
“Ma’am. Primary target is approaching the main building. The busses won’t return to evacuate the remaining staff and students before intercept.”
“Ah.” The dean’s shoulders slumped, and she rubbed the bridge of her nose in resignation. “I see. Pull back and create a defensive line for retreat.” The dean ordered with a sigh before turning to Anna who had been slumped against a wall giving her legs a rest. “Anna?”
“Yes?” She called out unsure how she could help or what she was going to be asked to do.
“I need you to call your mother.” The dean was holding Anna’s phone to her and Anna felt the bottom falling out of her stomach as the remaining students and faculty susurrated in sadness.
“Oh.” You didn’t call Camina Wattkins when you thought the odds were in your favor. She turned the phone back on and dialed. But the call didn’t go through.
It went to voicemail.
“She’s not answering.”
“Shoot.” Dean George snapped her fingers in recollection. “She was on a plane when I called her earlier. They would have been redirected away from here and she might be too high up to get reception.”
“I might be able to call someone else.” Anna volunteered hopefully. When the words had left her mouth, she’d been thinking of calling in some of her IOU’s but she quickly remembered that she didn’t have phone numbers for any of the joint chiefs’ of staff. Okay. Then Kyle?
Dialing his number, Anna turned and fidgeted to avoid showing anyone how nervous her face was right then. Voicemail again. Fine. She knew she couldn’t get ahold of her dad and his magic would be useless with all the power out anyways. So, there was only one option.
Before she could dial, a group of five men with weapons and wands drawn came running through the front door of the school. The huge limousine monster leapt into view from around a corner and suddenly it was screams and panic again.
The monster fell sideways with a lunge, its pincers gnashing.
“Retreat.” The head of security shouted. “Retreat to the second floor.” A pair of guards lead the way up the double stairway of the main hall, somehow their uniforms looked surprisingly reassuring suddenly. Anna, along with everyone else ran. The guards took up defensive positions on the staircase to cover their charges’ retreat.
Panting up the stairs, Anna made her last call.
“Please pick up Sam.”
CHAPTER 26
12:32 AM September 13th 2026
Heading from the Industrial Park District near the Port of New York to New York Preparatory Academy
“Hang on.” Kyle shouted as he rounded yet another corner on two wheels. Jones felt his body slam against the passenger door as they took the hard left turn then rebounded off it as their armored vehicle lost traction. They slid into a line of vehicles that had been abandoned in the street when the magic collectors had blown.
“Oh, shit.” Jones shouted as one of the vehicles they had sideswiped began lumbering awake in a monster manifestation process. Then he ducked as a traffic light post bent down to try and grab them. Kyle hit the gas to accelerate their vehicle out of the newly manifested monster’s reach. “KIDS!”
Jones pointed to the group of thirteen or so young people, not actually children, but young adults who had shot out into the street fleeing something. They were carrying a collection of various weapons like baseball bats, hatchets – that they had probably liberated from the outdoor store they were exiting – pool sticks, and at least one had a loaded rifle. But some were carrying things like new fishing rods, televisions, and laptops. The vehicle swerved yet again to avoid killing anyone and ended up on the two opposite wheels from before. Several of the ‘kids’ swore at them, one threw a hatchet that bounced off Jones’ bulletproof window.
“You mean looters.” Kyle growled at his passenger before rolling down his window and shouting at the receding gang, “You’re welcome, you ungrateful hooligans.” He rolled the window up and grumbled to himself. “Magic collectors blow out all the shitty electronics and their bright idea is to steal more electronics instead of hiding from the bloody monsters?”
“Real geniuses!” Jones volunteered dryly in an attempt to disguise his absolute terror of just everything in the last few minutes, from the wild ride to the multiple near misses. “They might as well be rolling down their bullet proof windows to shout at idiots throwing hatchets and toting guns.”
“Point taken.” The younger man snorted as he slowed to take another corner and then slammed the breaks on when he saw what the street looked like. There was a herd of vehicle-form monsters. A group of swat vehicles had formed a barricade while heavily armed NYPD officers in body armor were trying to down creatures the size of sport utility vehicles with plain old gunpowder projectile and melee weapons. Yes, they had magic users, but…
“For the love of…” Kyle cut off the oath as he slammed the armored vehicle into park. “They don’t even have adequate cover or a ranged specialist.” Before Jones could inquire about or suggest a plan to go around the herd, Kyle had unbuckled his seat belt and was hopping out of the safety of the vehicle.
“No. No, no, no, no, no. Kyle. You need to get back in the vehicle.” Jones scrambled to retrieve his charge. But the headstrong young man wasn’t hearing any of it. He strode confidently up behind the officers that were cowering behind their luckily un-monsterfied as of yet vehicles taking ineffectual pot shots at an overwhelming force of monster manifestations.
“Hey.” He called out, strolling toward danger with a big friendly smile on his face while reaching for the lanyard around his neck. “Hello. Who is in charge here?” It was such a change in Kyle’s normal self-effacing demeanor that Jones, for a moment, wondered if the conspiracy theory that had been floating around the other military personnel guarding the museum was true. Maybe Kyle really was – Nah! He was just a really dedicated big brother.
“Get back.” Only four of the harried officers risked turning their backs on the approaching throng to see what new hell they had to deal with. “Stay back.” A middle-aged man who looked like he was probably in charge. “We’ve got a massive herd formation heading this way with class ones, class twos, and multiple class three monster manifestations.”
“I know.” Kyle called back, though he’d stopped when he was told to without provoking anyone into aiming a weapon at him. “I’m a consultant from the museum.” He jiggled the identification badge that he was holding by the lanyard in the direction of the man who had spoken. Then he gestured to the armored vehicle they had vacated with the National Museum of Unnatural Science and History logo emblazoned brightly on its side.
The officer seemed skeptical until he glanced in the direction that Kyle was gesturing. The familiar emblem brought a surge of relief to him and his shoulders sagged as the implications sank in.
“Thank, fucking God.” He breathed almost reverently. “We’ve lost communications. Get over here.” He gestured for Kyle and Jones to advance before calling out to his men. “Museum consultant on site.” His holler as met with a chorus of celebrations.
“Fuck yes!”
“Hellyeah.”
“Praises to Allah!”
“Woot, woot.”
That last one made their leader grimace a bark of laughter and shake his head. Though there was one disgruntled, “About fucking time,” grumbled from someone who all their comrades managed to spare the time to turn their attention to for a second of glaring.
“Hi. I’m Kyle Wattkins.” Kyle introduced himself. Normally if someone made the connection between his last name and his famous mother it made them think that he was a super dope battle warlock. That stupid assumption that his mother’s badassness had been passed onto her son. This time though he was met with dismayed cries.
“The cook?”
“No.” Kyle sternly replied. “Not the cook. The warlock of the Archivist, consultant for the museum.” He released his identification card and resettled his high collard warlocks robe over this suit. It was a kind of classy look, Jones had to admit a bit grudgingly. “Now. Specialist Jones and I need to get through this herd to the New York Preparatory Academy. Is it possible to open this barricade to let us through? And we will draw off the herd as we go?”
Jones didn’t have a thing in his mouth but he was certain he’d just done a spit-take and choked on his own tongue at the same time. The S.W.A.T. officers gave Kyle incredulous looks too.
“You aren’t here to clear out this herd?” The guy who had been the S.W.A.T. team’s spokesperson questioned dubiously. “We can’t open this blockade. We won’t be able to control the herd if they get past us, we’ve got them pinned in for the next several blocks between all the teams. And you can’t get through the herd, they are coming from New York Prep.”
Kyle climbed up on top of one of the vehicles to see sleek metallic wolves pacing impatiently just beyond the reach of the defenders’ weapons. These weren’t the clumsy, nearly mindless half-formed manifestations Anna had described to Sam. No. These were fully manifested class three monsters. Fast, deadly, and partially protected by magical properties from the elements they had formed out of.
“I see.” One of the more ambitious monsters crouched low as Kyle eyed them critically. It saw one of the food sources it had been watching resentfully from a safe distance and decided to risk an attack. It bunched its hind legs behind it and launched for a huge jump from over thirty feet away. “No.” Kyle spoke to himself quietly and he summoned his magic.
Power flowed from his being and out his mouth, twining with his words as he spoke the spell he needed.
“Shield of Aeneas.”
CHAPTER 27
“Kyle!” Jones rushed forward knowing that he was going to be too late to do anything. It felt like he was moving in slow motion. By sheer reflex he unholstered his wand and prepared to fire off the basic fireball spell that he’d been trained to use, because…when in doubt, burn it. But he wasn’t going to be in time to protect Kyle.
The monster was moving too fast. And though Kyle was clearly trying to defend himself, his hand was raising so slowly. It was moving mere inches while the metal wolf monster the size of a large sedan was traveling feet. Blood thundered through Jones’ ears and the words Kyle spoke felt distorted by time dilation even if they were quiet and soft.
‘Nooooooo,’ followed what felt like an eternity later by, ‘Shield of Aeneas.’ Jones recoiled hard as he choked off his spell mid summon. Because he’d been pouring everything he had into in a last ditch effort to save someone who…clearly didn’t need to be saved.
Lines of fire blossomed outward from Kyle’s raised hand tracing swiftly out to form an intricate and ornate shield of images. Scenes out of history and myth drew themselves into existence in the wall of magical light sprouting from the warlock’s hand. The two babes suckling on a female wolf were Romulus and Remus, the twin brothers who founded Rome. There were several depictions of battles, Rome under siege, ancient peoples and events set against epic landscapes and buildings from times long past.
“Holy shit.” Jones breathed out an appreciative sigh. The spell was known. It was famous. But it gobbled magic limiting those who could cast it to those with naturally high reserves of innate magic, or those who could channel and focus high levels of ambient magic. The second wasn’t recommended. Taking in and channeling that amount of ambient magic had a tendency to make a human sick.
The monster impacted hard.
It yelped and howled with a sizzling hiss as the fiery shield of solid magic burned the metal shell of the monster straight down to its gooey mutant insides. It landed with a whump, twitching a few times before it struggled to stand and limp away. The shield stayed up for as long as Kyle chose to hold it, burning down the arcanes in the immediate area every second it was active. Even so, the notoriously power-hungry spell was hardly making a dent in the Prometheus purple levels of AMD. But it was having an effect on Kyle. He staggered under the weight of the massive shield.
“Okay.” He grunted as he released the spell. “That’s enough of that.” Turning to the awed swat members he rolled his shoulders. “Right.” It was casual, nonchalant even and he sighed sadly before continuing. “There’s between sixty to eighty students, faculty, and security guards trapped in the New York Preparatory Academy, with active monster incursions of at least four different levels and no shielding except a fourteen-year-old cryomancer.”
He stopped for a breath and before anyone could speak, he held up his hand to forestall questions. A gust of wind blew his hair dramatically and a ray of bright sunlight shone off his blonde highlights. Was that just super coincidental or had Kyle actually made the effort to make that happen, Jones wondered. Taking another breath, the young warlock continued.
“That is just confirmed in the school. I’m not even taking into account the hundreds of people trapped in the buildings surrounding the herd that has formed there. People who aren’t getting any assistance because the buildings they are in are being used to contain the monster herd manifestation. I need to get there and get those people out. Preferably without any casualties.”
“I’m sorry, son.” The head S.W.A.T. officer interrupted apologetically. “But we can’t do that. None of my men are trained for this kind of combat. We don’t have the magic for it.” Kyle’s expression turned thunderous.
“You don’t have the magic for it.” His tone was furious as he hissed vitriolically back at the speaker. “There is more than enough magic to go around if you are willing to use it.” But he visibly restrained himself and tempered his tone. “I’m not asking you to help me. Just let me through and keep quiet about it later.”
“If you die, we’ll need to explain to somebody what happened to you.” Another S.W.A.T. officer added unhelpfully. Jones rolled his eyes at that.
“I’m not going to die.”
“Right.” Someone scoffed and it wasn’t the same asshole who had previously protested.
“I’m not going to die.” Kyle assured the police. “And I’m not asking you to come with me. I’m a warlock from the museum. I know what I’m doing.” Jones had to admit that just hearing those words, ‘from the museum’, did make nerdy dorky unthreatening Kyle seem like maybe he knew what he was doing, that was how strong the belief and faith in the magical knowledge curated by the museum was to citizens.
“Annnd…” the young warlock hesitated nervously as he spoke, “I’m about to do something that is only possible because of the extremely high levels of arcanes around us right now. Any other time, I’m just an average warlock. Right now?” He shrugged self-deprecatingly and gave a quick nervous grin.
Specialist Jones felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Yeah, there had been that rumor about Kyle’s ‘real’ job running around the military personnel who were assigned as guards at the museum. But Jones hadn’t put any credence in it. It was just a rumor…
And sure, Jones had been pretty sure that he was going to be in deep shit for the shenanigans that Kyle and Sam had gotten up to earlier. However, it was just shenanigans. Poking dragon corpses that were only safe to be around because of portable magic collectors was dangerous. Driving across town during a high magic event before monster formation started, dangerous but doable. That was quantifiable deep shit. He was aware of exactly how much trouble he would be in for that.
Letting Kyle drive through herds of actively evolving monsters with the intention of fighting monsters? Not great for his career. What Kyle was saying now?
He was going to die. The Last Line was going to hunt down one Specialist Jones if he managed to survive this. Because, he hadn’t even dreamed of stopping Kyle when they found out that little Anna was trapped in her school under active monster attack.
CHAPTER 28
Jones clambered up onto the vehicle next to Kyle. He’d intended to try and help save Anna from the start. But the reminder that he could draw on the ambient magic to perform feats of sorcery far beyond his normal capacity had calmed his galloping heart. It was weird that it hadn’t occurred to him before Kyle had mentioned it.
Kyle turned to face the milling herd. Some were keenly watching them, looking for an opportunity to attack. Others were actively gnawing their way through the walls of buildings or widening holes where glass doors had once been. The normally goofy warlock who sang along with the jingles he used as cell phone ring tones, had narrowed his hazel eyes. The light of laughter was gone from them, replaced with keen seriousness.
“You should stay here, Jones.” Kyle was quiet enough that only Jones could hear him.
“I’m going to help you.” The Specialist insisted. He wasn’t full of bravado, just determined to do the right thing, protect the American people like he was paid to.
“Anna is my priority. If it comes down to it, I will sacrifice every single other person in that hellscape to get my baby sister out.” He turned his intense gaze to Jones who met it stoically. “Are you good with that?” Jones shrugged before replying flippantly.
“It’s what your mother would want.” His reply brought an ironic laugh from Kyle who smiled ruefully at the soldier.
“Oh, you clearly don’t know my mother very well.” As Kyle spoke, he began shrugging off his warlock’s robe dropping it to the hood of the car. Next, he took off the suit jacket that matched his slacks revealing the fitted holster for his magical tome that he wore over his dress shirt.
“No?” Jones was doubtful as he kept one eye on the monsters. They were getting riled up way down the street. There was something big moving around there. But like every other street in the city at that moment, there were abandoned vehicles lining both directions interspersed with dozens of vehicles and other things that had already transformed. Hell, there was even a little manhole cover monster sliding around on it’s back. Like a moving mouth facing upwards. It was sliding underneath other monsters as they walked and biting off feet as they came down.
“She’s not here, is she?” Kyle was fussing with his tie and lanyard, debating whether to take the lanyard off or not. It was clear that he’d made the decision not to when he dropped it and focused on taking off the tie.
“She might not know?” Jones offered. but knew it was a bad excuse even as he’d said it. Her flight should have landed by now. She would know something was seriously wrong in her city.
“Or she’s been ordered somewhere else.” Dropping his tie with the rest of his extraneous clothing, Kyle changed his focus to taking off his holster, his fingers moving with practiced ease. “Either way, it’s not a great look for a parent.” Jones acknowledged Kyle was right with a tilt of his head and a raise of his eyebrows as everything that the Wattkins boy had discarded levitated and began floating itself back to the armored vehicle behind the barricade. “Need anything from the vehicle?”
“The biggest most effective weapons stored in there?” Kyle smirked and nodded as he turned his back to monsters as he focused on what he was doing.
“Watch my back a minute.” Jones obliged and turned his full attention to the city street. Devoid of people. Bright and sunny with shadows between the buildings, most of which towered over them. He focused on watching the monsters, shooting off a few fireballs that glinted off the windows when he felt a nudge on his shoulder. It was a large riffle, semiautomatic, magically hardened, that shot enchanted alchemy charges with a mount for a bayonet on the muzzle. Standard Magicorps issue. It was one of the weapons that were stocked for the museum guards.
“Nice.” Then he saw a cross-shoulder double-bandolier of alchemy shots, and a bayonet to attach to the gun. “Feels like home.” He smiled ruefully at his charge.
“Be careful with the sword,” Kyle cautioned, “It’s a lot more magically conductive than standard military issue. Have you trained with the museum standard enchantments?” Jones nodded as he geared up with the new weapons in addition to his sidearm and his wand.
“I’ve been familiarized with it.” Jones assured Kyle. “You want me to take point?” He offered, because he didn’t think the nerdy young man had ever done something like this.”
“No. Stay behind me.” With nothing other than a wand in one hand and a plain leather notebook in the other hand, he hopped off the vehicle he was standing on top of into the danger zone.
Immediately, all the monsters who were focused on trying to get past the underprepared police holding down the street at the barricade zeroed in on Kyle. They hesitated, confused as to why food was coming to them. The soft squishy thing didn’t seem dangerous. Did it not know it was in danger? Had it not realized there were monsters about? So, they waited, and watched.
And gave Kyle the time he needed to prepare.
Kyle paused for a second after he’d hit the ground. Squaring his shoulders, he took a deep steadying breath. Could he do this? Maybe. Technically. Was he ready for this? Unlikely.
Despite the danger, he closed his eyes for a second and took a second breath. It was fine. He could feel the arcanes in the atmosphere. As a warlock of the Archivist, Kyle had access to the vastest collection of documented spells and magical enchantments in existence. Anything that had been scanned by the archive, his pact item could teach him how to recreate it. And he had a lot of powers granted to him from the Archivist, were primarily used for the
preservation or dissemination of knowledge. Something that was exceedingly useful for someone who was also a wizard.
True, Kyle Wattkins was an average warlock.
He wasn’t super powerful; he wasn’t particularly talented. But he was also a wizard with small amounts of natural magic. He was a wizard, and wizards didn’t have large reserves of internal magic, so they specialized in using the magic from the environment around them. He was a wizard with access to the greatest library of spells to ever exist, a natural proclivity towards electricity he inherited from his father, and the ability to channel magic from the environment.
Opening his eyes again, Kyle began drawing on the seemingly limitless ambient magic with nothing more than a wand and a book, he began walking into the fray.
CHAPTER 29
Up. Up high above the city Kyle could feel the static electricity of nature in the atmosphere. There wasn’t enough infrastructure functioning in the city for him to draw from the grid. Normally he wouldn’t have even bothered trying to do this. But with so much magic saturating the city, he could.
He reached to the sky with his wand and gathered the awesome power of nature stored there. He was burning arcanes like mad, channeling magic through himself at higher levels than he’d ever done before. It was terrifying, and exhilarating. Honestly, a once in a lifetime opportunity for a wizard really. Afterall, when else would he have unlimited access to raw magic without having to become one of those crazy loons roughing it out in high magic zones of the wild for the sake of magic.
He far preferred the comforts of a city. Plumbing, cell phone reception, the internet…doughnuts. Kyle was exceptionally fond of roads and vehicles. Sure, he walked or took public transportation most of the time, but he loved the convenience of being able to hop in a vehicle and go when he needed to.
Buildings and roads were pretty important to Kyle, too.
The buildings and roads were crawling with monsters. Distant screams, intermittent crashes and wailing of sirens were interspersed with the howls and growls of newly manifested monsters. The very infrastructure of modern society that Kyle cherished and had forsaken his wizard training and became a warlock instead for, were turning on the city he loved. It wasn’t just vehicles that were turning.
Yet the power in the air, it called to Kyle in the way that magic called to all those with the proclivity toward wizardry. A craving that he dared not feed. The heavy taste of the arcanes in the air was sweet and savory on his tongue. He licked his lip then bit it in pleasure as he drank in all the power he could ever want.
Arcanes flooded Kyle’s body, coursing through his veins and making him feel like he’d grown a hundred times larger without changing at all.
He was going to regret this later.
But he watched the monsters noticing him. The bright fall sunlight was glinting off so many metallic hides making random wild blinding reflections of light playing across the shadowed areas on the street and up the sides of buildings.
More magic than most wizards ever saw in their lifetimes.
Kyle grinned. Fixing his targets in his mind.
Though no one could see it, his eyes were glowing. Static electricity arced in little crackles over his body. The scent of ozone wafted from him as flashes of miniature lightning bolts played between the rising hairs of his head.
“Jones?” Kyle felt the weird metallic taste on his tongue that he always found when he tried to speak while casting this type of magic. It mingled deliciously with the flavor of the arcanes. “Stay at least thirty feet back from me so you don’t get hit by a bolt grounding on you.”
“Yes, Sir!” The specialist called to Kyle’s back. Then Kyle started walking forward. Maybe the class three metallic wolf-form monsters sensed the growing danger that Kyle represented because they hesitated to attack, instead growling menacing as they backed away. The class one and two incomplete manifestations of the vehicle form monsters only saw him as a source of delectable edible magic. Emboldened by the retreat of the class threes, the class ones and twos began lumping and huffling their way towards him.
His steps were slow at first, but Kyle grew more confident with every arcane he absorbed. His pace gradually increased until he was walking briskly through the chaos while less evolved forms of monster hurried toward him. Before those beasts could get within attack range, Kyle acted.
“Lightning bolt!” Though his words were spoken at normal volume, they seemed louder, echoing with the dangerous levels of arcanes reverberating in his being. A bolt of lightning split the heavens, momentarily striking down to ground on Kyle with a crash of thunder. He held the thousands of joules on his wand for a split second, before discharging the electricity in dozens of arcs simultaneously onto the monstrous targets he’d chosen.
The creatures were killed in their tracks or maimed enough that their forward movement was halted. The sound of electricity crackled and hissed as the unfortunate creatures were cooked inside their metal hides. It was quiet for a second, then Kyle, wand still raised to the heavens spoke again.
“Lightning bolt.” Again, a flash of electricity cracked down from the heavens to race through Kyle’s wand then out to the milling monster herd. A thunderclap deafened him then rolled off into the distance as sound does. More monsters fell, screaming and roaring their defiance, some just going silent when the electricity he’d pumped through them had dissipated. Others didn’t fall. They just started charging if they hadn’t already been converging on this new source of sustenance.
Jones stayed well behind what Kyle had deemed the safe radius. The soldier was glad he had because Kyle was arcing bolts of lightning and conducting electricity for dozens or even as many as a hundred feet away. The bolts of plasma heated air were directed forward and to the sides and never backwards toward the anxious specialist. That didn’t make him feel any safer about it.
Absolute shock had frozen Jones after the first volley of lightning that the nerdy, history buff, museum employee Kyle had held in his hand, and then used to drop over a dozen monsters ranging in size from two-door hatchbacks to extended cab pickup trucks. It wasn’t until the second spell had triggered most of the monsters in the next two blocks to charge, that he pulled himself from his temporary stupor. There wasn’t time to be surprised after that. The monsters were coming, and Jones and Kyle had a three-block gauntlet to run of class one, class two, and class three manifestations with no backup coming.
CHAPTER 30
Jones steadied his heart with slow even breaths. He could do this. He’d done this before. Okay. Not this, but similar. There were places where he’d been deployed where the monsters ran in packs and overran smaller villages. Or demons had escaped and in an orgy of freedom made things unpleasant for the locals.
Heck, even plain old magical creatures could be a problem if they were big, hungry, or ornery enough.
And that’s what the Magicorps trained for. Days like this when magic wasn’t a helpful aid to civilization bestowing boons of knowledge and safety, and instead, was a bitch. That’s right. Magic was being a sonofabitch today and someone had to kick some monsters in the mother effing teeth. It might as well be the Magicorps. Couldn’t leave it up to the civies, or worse yet, the jar heads.
Yeah!
This, this was just a regular old day at the office for Jones. Not like the lazy lying around the museum shit he’d been tasked with since his transfer to New York. Jones performed another quick scan of the battlefield – this was definitely a battlefield, or it would be soon at least – and chose what he thought was the most immediate target.
Kyle seemed to have a radius on his lightning bolts of not more than about a hundred feet. And he was only aiming forward of his line of sight. Jones focused on the monsters who were parallel with them or slightly behind Kyle, the ones who had been missed in the first salvos. There were three currently under fire from the swat officers behind them, but their plain chemical projectiles weren’t packing enough punch to do the kind of damage necessary to put them down.
Jones lined up the sight of his semi-automatic rifle with the first monster he’d targeted. A smooth squeeze of the trigger made the familiar crack of a chemical projectile weapon. The monster practically ignored the impact thinking at first it was one of the police’s ineffectual bullets. Until it noticed the round had not only penetrated its body, but that the alchemical components within the round were reacting.
Alchemical rounds could do a lot of things. It was alchemy after all, and alchemy was a broad and diverse school of magic. Alchemy was used just as frequently to create, heal, or modify, as it was just for destruction. The ammunition that Jones was using had been mixed to do some awful things. Or maybe it was meant for fighting awful things because the wound in the huge metallic class three wolf monster began smoking.
Then it began flaming, jets of white-hot fire spitting out of the hole in the thing’s chest. Probably some kind of magnesium concoction with that coloring. Which some might try to argue was just a chemical reaction until they saw what happened next. The monster began whining. Shaking, and pawing at itself in an attempt to remove the burning mass of alchemical reaction that was not so slowly consuming it from within.
When it began howling and running blindly, Jones turned his attention to the next target. He still caught the monster rebounding off when it hit the wall of a building and chuckled at its misfortune. The lay twitching until it popped with small explosion that sent the organic metal guts flying a short distance from the creature.
He kept up firing short burst of rounds into one monster after another, carefully sighting on the creatures and secure in the knowledge that the alchemical rounds would only react with the mutated flesh of the monsters and not with anything else if he missed. While that was a safety measure enchanted into all alchemical ammunition, it didn’t change the fact that he was firing bullets in a city. If he missed, the speed of the weapon firing might just send a bullet through a wall and injure an innocent person if he wasn’t careful. Bayonets, like the enchanted one on this rifle, were distracting to people who weren’t familiar with them. That was probably why Kyle hadn’t taken one of the weapons himself. Jones had been watching the young warlock surreptitiously, partly situational awareness, and partly just because he was so damned curious what the kid would break out next.
But the lead creatures in the charging horde were getting too close for Kyle to continue fighting the way he had with mass area lightning bolt dispersions. When he saw Kyle calling down another bolt of lightning that was going to be far too late to do any good, Jones was afraid he might have to intervene. A class two manifestation that looked like it used to be a really expensive sports car was rushing forward on stumpy rubber and steel legs. It was nearly upon Kyle and nearly crushed him as he waited for another bolt of lightning to fall from the sky.
It was going to be too late. Even if lightning did travel at the astounding speed of two hundred seventy thousand miles per hour, the spell was not going to strike fast enough to save the warlock of the Archivist from being crushed from several thousand pounds of mutated metal flesh and exoskeleton. Incongruously, Kyle charged the oncoming beast, launching himself – wand, open book on palm and all – up onto the monster. Jumping and running up the hood-head to leap from its highest point over the open convertible top to catch the bolt he was summoning. It coalesced into a long shaft of buzzing light shaped somewhere between a spear and a sword.
The bolt grounded in the pulsating cream leather interior of the monster with a dramatic shower of sparks erupting around the pair. Like a pole vaulter hanging in mid air from the top of a rod of lightning Kyle bore his weight down the shaft extending from his wand, piercing deep into the back of the beast. His pillar of electricity shrank as it discharged until he was left with something the size of a billy club or a nightstick.
Kyle awkwardly clambered out of the interior of the transformed vehicle, one hand holding a hot current lengthening the reach of his wand by about two feet. The depleted energy weapon glowed a dull red, fluctuating slowly. For his part, Kyle’s face wore a look of complete disgust as the formerly sumptuous leather interior of the luxury vehicle was now gooey with some kind of slimy biological fluid. It coated his legs with slime that made his trousers stick to his calves and shins.
“Ohhhh….Gross. Shi – ” Another several thousand pound monster nearly collided with the warlock as he dodged backwards with a yelp. “Oh, no you don’t.” His makeshift cutlass swung and began hacking parts off the vehicle-form. The blade grew brighter, stronger, larger, and more refined with each swing he took. Its color gradually going up the light spectrum as Kyle fed it more of the ambient magic from around him. From the dull red of hot metal, the sword of captured lightning changed to orange, then yellow, and green, all in the neon brightness of a storm’s captive might.
Sword and warlock became a swirling mass of stop-motion light trails and phantom images. He ran from one encounter to another hacking, cutting, and mutilating monsters to incapacitation. A gathering Roy-G-Biv of destructive force blazing brighter and brighter into the upper echelons of visible light, bright enough to make even the sunny day seem dim.
CHAPTER 31
11:30AM September 13th 2026
35,000ft Altitude between New York City and Washington DC
Poor Jim was nervous. He was handling it well, but now more of the flight’s passengers were asking questions about why they were so long overdue. Some of them were getting angry. It was keeping the already stressed-out flight attendants, who didn’t seem to know what was going on themselves, very busy.
For her part, Camina was fairly certain she knew what was going on. Not exactly, no. She wasn’t clairvoyant. But she could put her observations together and make some educated guesses. Observation one, the ambient magic density had spiked significantly. Observation two, the plane had turned around and flown away from New York. Observation three; none of the passengers, and possibly none of the staff not in the cockpit had been informed of these changes.
Of course, Camina couldn’t be positive she was making the correct deduction, but she was fairly certain that there had been some kind of major magical incident in the vicinity of New York. It hadn’t been cataclysmic. At least, the levels of magic she sensed didn’t feel cataclysmic. It was definitely bad though.
Very bad.
Part of her, the maternal part, wanted to scream at the flight attendants and demand some answers, much like the other passengers were doing. Another part of Camina was patient. It sat and waited, legs primly crossed, partly because it knew that staying in tight control over her emotions and biding her time would bring her answers faster than throwing her weight around.
The other reason was that she was a prominent magic wielder, and her actions had very far-reaching consequences.
“Listen here, young Miss.” An angry blonde with twang was shaking an admonishing finger as she harangued the flight attendant. “We’ve been on this here flight for hours longer than it was ‘sposed to last. I think we all deserve some answers. Now aren’t we going to New York or ain’t we?” She’d switched to gesturing around the cabin and trying to get support from her fellow passengers.
“Ma’am.” The exasperated female flight attendant tried to reinstate order one more time. “I’ve already told you. We are being redirected to another airport. But because of the magic arrow swarm intersection happening today we won’t know if we have a path to land anywhere for a few hours.” Well, that sounded like a lie if Camina had ever heard one. The magic arrow swarms weren’t set to intersect for another two or three hours. And they were coming from nowhere near D.C.
“I’ve been watching he news on my tablet thingy that the grandkids got me for Christmas last year.” An elderly gentleman chimed up from a few rows behind the obnoxious twanger. “And the news is saying there’s been some kind of catastrophe with New York.” He smacked his lips against his gums in irritation. “Nobody can communicate with them except by message spell. Was there some kind of blackout of something? They lose their electricity?”
“Sir. As I’ve said before…” Before she could finish her thought, the man that Camina had bet Jim was the U. S. Marshal on the flight stood up and indicated the woman should stop talking. He had been closely monitoring a low-magic communications scroll strapped to one wrist. When he’d stood to deal with the unruly passenger he’d pulled his sleeve down over it.
“You owe me five bucks.” Camina chuckled quietly to Jim who groaned as he pulled out his wallet to pay up.
“You’re lucky I even have five bucks. Any other day and I’d have to use an app to send it to you electronically.” Giggling with glee, Camina settled in to watch the unfolding diversion.
“United States Marshal, Ma’am. The flight crew will keep you apprised of any information you need to know. Could you please sit d – ” Before he could even fully intervene, the passenger address system came on.
“This is your captain speaking.” The words crackled with the weird not-so-great echoey quality that all passenger address systems seemed to have no matter how luxurious the interior of the plane. “Would the passenger in seat forty-four A please come to the flight deck. I repeat the passenger in seat forty-four A please come to the flight deck.”
For a second, just a second, Camina glanced eagerly around to see who it was that would respond to the captain’s call. Who else besides herself could possibly be important enough for the captain to call upon. Then her shoulders slumped, and she glanced furtively at the seat number above her head…and sighed dejectedly.
“Forgot what your seat number was for a second there didn’t you?” Jim quipped quietly beside her.
“Oh, shut it Thafesh.” It was a habit really, to call a comrade by their last name. It made her just a little bit amused. “Don’t let them toss my coffee while I’m gone.” She whispered urgently and stood as nonchalantly as she possibly could.
Most of the other passengers were still looking for the row and seat the captain had called out, but their searching gazes zeroed in on Camina like homing missiles despite her attempts to look completely casual.
Sure, the tall, gorgeous brunet with her tropical tan and dark eyes could have just been getting up to use the restroom. But did anyone really think the exotic, muscular beauty that looked like a supermodel had become a professional athlete, and walked like she was marching was just coincidentally getting up right after the pilot called someone to the cockpit. Naw. From his own seat, Jim snorted in amusement. It was funny.
Murmurs started up around the cabin. People turned around in their seats to watch her approach and slowly walk past. There were whispers talking about how familiar she looked. Damn right she should look familiar. One person who made the comment was literally holding a magazine with her picture on the cover and Jim had to stick a finger in his mouth and bite it not to laugh out loud. He had no idea how she was keeping her composure and not rolling on the floor in hysterical laughter. Like, he could just see that the effort of not rolling her eyes at that one, was giving her eye strain.
Finally, she reached the flight deck door and pushed the button for admittance. There was a brief quiet exchange over the intercom, and she disappeared into the interior. The quiet murmurs became an almost instant buzz of gossip.
“Oh, my good Lord.” Someone exclaimed. “Was that Camina Wattkins? The Harbinger is on our flight? How much trouble are we in?”
CHAPTER 32
“Holy crap.” The copilot and pilot had both turned to look at their guest when she entered the cockpit and apparently the copilot hadn’t believed he was genuinely about to see who he thought he was about to see. “It really is you.” Now, he was jerked back in his seat as far from Camina as he’d been able to move.
“Come on, Earl.” The pilot scolded. “Try to pretend you’re a professional when there are people around to see.” Though his words were weary sounded, there was a twinkle of mirth in the older man’s eyes. His salt and pepper hair was cut high and tight and his profile could have been a generic former military white dude with a chiseled jaw.
“Sorry.” Earl coughed apologetically and settled himself down into his seat properly and he glanced between the pilot and Camina. “It’s just that, it’s her. I mean. It’s you. And you’re her.” Familiar with this phenomenon, Camina merely smiled politely while retaining her grip on her patience.
“It’s alright.” She assured him and turned her focus to the person who was actually focused on his job. “I assume you both had a reason for calling me up here?”
“Yes.” The pilot responded and keyed up the radio. “There’s a call for you.”
“I see.” She wasn’t surprised. Honestly, Camina had been expecting something like this. The military officer on the other end of the transmission gave their credentials and confirmed hers. Then she listened as she was briefed and received her orders. Her stomach sank with every word spoken.
“Communication has been limited. But reports say that it’s Prometheus purple in Manhattan.”
She’d known. Not precisely, but Camina had known something was very wrong in the city. The city where her children and husband were at this very moment. Had Lance ever gotten Anna? Or was she separated from family in the middle of what was happening there? Kyle would be fine; the museum was practically a magic proof bunker when all was said and done. Sam was…Sam. And her husband wasn’t great at emergencies.
No.
Lance surely would have gotten Anna as soon as he was done with whatever patient he’d been dealing with at the time. Surely. Of course, Camina didn’t expect Lance, an untrained civilian, to risk his life through…for their daughter…
“What do we…” Her voice was tight, strained. Tears weren’t in her eyes yet, but they were stinging. She stomped hard on that train of thought before it could take her mind places that she couldn’t afford to let it go right now. Taking a brief moment, Camina cleared her throat and lifted her gaze to the ceiling of the cockpit. Then biting her lip she steeled herself and asked the question again with a shake of her head at herself. “What do we know about the monster manifestations?”
“Hundreds. And those are just the class three and lower ones. There’s at least one class four that we know of because it can be seen across the bay.” Camina froze.
“In the city?” It came out in a breathy whisper.
“On Manhattan Island.” Apparently, her whisper had been loud enough for him to hear and respond. Or maybe she hadn’t been as quiet as she thought.
“What are my orders?” It wasn’t resignation, per se. But both the pilot and copilot glanced up at the woman as her voice changed yet again. While she wanted to go and help her children and her husband, she knew that there were others who needed her help, others who were less gifted, less capable. But she wasn’t the person that got sent in to rescue people. She was the person who got sent in to deal with dangers the rescuers couldn’t. Camina knew she wasn’t a precision tool.
“The class four monster manifested at the airport on the North end of the island.” Gasps came from both pilots at the news. For her part, Camina focused on the sleek black plastic of the instrument panel, her eyes roving over familiar gauges that she knew enough about to not accidentally crash. “It’s just a standard jump into a high magic monster hot zone. Disable or contain the monster. Do not let it leave Manhattan.”
“Understood.” Her face was bleak. All those people. There would be thousands of deaths, if not from the monster, then possibly from collateral damage. “Will I have a team? Or any…” She stopped and swallowed the hard lump of dread. “Is anyone documenting what’s happening?”
“No, you’ll be jumping from the plane you’re on now. It’s just you for now.” She nodded stiffly before realizing that he couldn’t see her. “The pilots already have their orders. You’ll be descending to twenty-five thousand feet for your drop. I’ve been told that’s enough time for you to suit up?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’m sorry.” He offered, only halfheartedly. Because he wasn’t really sorry to be ordering her to save lives. Yet he knew what she was risking, how difficult this was emotionally, and how bad things were going to be for her in the future without an embedded journalist to document what she was doing to combat the vitriol of the conspiracy anti-magic nuts. “There just aren’t any other military personnel on the flight with you. The closest thing there is to an embedded journalist is the journalism student, but he – ”
“He’ll go.” Camina gasped quickly. “He’ll absolutely be willing to deploy with me.” Hurrying to add before she could be cut off. “He’s been sitting next to me the whole flight and I’ve been looking over his work. Good solid stuff. I was going to recommend scouting him. If he’s all I have to choose from, I’ll take back up with a Level Four magic license.”
“Fine.” The officer acknowledged. “We vetted him before calling the plane just in case.” She pumped her fist and did a little happy dance in the cockpit without letting any sound escape her lips.
“Yes, Sir. Thak you, Sir.” She was giddy with excitement now when she’d been morose only moments before.
“Right.” He already sounded like he regretted it.
CHAPTER 33
Camina exited the cockpit not in the best of spirits, but at least relieved that she might get one thing going her way today. Sure, she was about to rain fire down on civilian airport and that was going to suck in ways she couldn’t allow herself to think about right now. But the young man she thought she was going to have to nursemaid through endless bureaucratic hoops to get on her team was getting the catastrophic event short cut. So…bonus.
“Mister Thafesh,” She called out loud enough for her seat mate to hear her voice. He half stood with an anxious look on his face and the rest of the first-class passengers glanced back and forth between the two with confusion and concern.
“Ma’am, what are…” a flight attendant tried to interrupt but the copilot opening the cockpit door behind Camina shook his head for the flight attendant to let it be.
“Yes, Camina? Uh, Ma’am?” Jim ran a hand through his hair and glanced at all the people focusing on the two of them. It made Camina chuckle. He might as well get used to the attention now.
“Have you ever performed a HALO jump into a Prometheus Category Purple zone with active monster formation?” The young man’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull as he drew a sharp intake of breath. Around the cabin, passengers gasped and murmured.
“Uh. No, Ma’am.” He admitted shakily, “I can’t say that I have.”
“Well, you’re about to.” Camina gave just a second for him to process that information before she continued, nodding in his direction. “Gear up. I got called in to work on my time off again and you’ve been approved as a replacement for my regular embedded team.”
“Seriously?” The young journalism student gaped then grinned. Then he hurried into the isle. “Thank you. Thank you.” He was already pulling his carryon bag out of the overhead compartment, glancing back at Camina ever few seconds as he pulled out more camera equipment. “Thank you, for this opportunity. You won’t regret it.” Behind Camina, the copilot was murmuring for the flight crew to go through the plane and start another trash run and make sure that everyone put any lose belongings in the overhead compartments.
“Wait a minute!” The woman with the twangy voice stood self-righteously, arms crossed. “You’re going to do a HALO jump? I know that that is. It’s a high altitude jump with a low opening of a parachute. Just where are you going to do that from? Passenger planes don’t carry parachutes. They travel too high and too fast for it. And the doors can’t open once they are in the air because of air pressure.” Camina actually laughed at that.
“Oh. You’re not wrong. But you are so very wrong.” The copilot gave Camina a put-upon sigh and shook his head as he fished in a storage compartment for a harness and line to secure himself with. “You might want to secure any belongings you have out.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.” The captain did not have the confident tone he’d had at the beginning of the flight. Instead, he sounded weary and not entirely pleased. “As you are probably aware by now, there has been some kind of magical event in New York city which is why we didn’t land there. Our intention was to return to D.C. when reports of class three and class four monster manifestations necessitated our intervention.”
“The woman standing at the front of the cabin with my copilot is Camina Wattkins. She was returning home from Washington. We find ourselves in the predicament of having on board with us the one person who actually needs to be in New York right at this moment. So, we have been ordered to let her off to go deal with this emergency. What we will be doing is not normal, but if you follow all of our instructions, it will not be unduly dangerous.”
Camina let the pilot drone on about descending below cruising altitude and using oxygen masks while she strolled back to her seat to stow her purse and carryon in the overhead bin. Her adrenaline was already starting to ramp up and it felt good, relaxing muscles that stiffened during the hours on the flight. Her face carried a slight smile, and she hummed a bit. It had been a while since she’d had a really good workout. The hum faltered and her smile faded to bleakness when thoughts of her kids intruded into her pre-fight mental preparations.
“You can’t make us let you open the plane of the door for her.” Twangy was back at it and this time, other passengers were on her side. It was starting to look like it might get ugly. But Camina plastered her biggest I’m-probably-on-camera smile and turned to face the rest of the cabin and the shrill woman from a place that Camina was seriously going to look into the feasibility of removing it from existence for producing that particular accent.
“Yes, I can.” This was one of the parts of her job she hated. “I have orders to deal with a class four monster manifestation at Manhattan North International Airport. It poses a danger to dozens of cities, not just New York or Manhattan Island. I will be leaving this plane. I do not require a parachute. I will fulfill my orders as they are entirely ethical, and I will not be endangering any civilian on this plane if I leave.” Pausing, Camina cocked her head and threw a little attitude while she gestured around the cabin. “Now, I can wait for you all to stow any personal belongings, so they don’t fly away when the door opens, and wait for you to have oxygen masks. Or I can follow my orders without making considerations for the civilians onboard this plane. What do you prefer?” She stared down at the obnoxious blonde, taller than the woman by several inches.
“But…but…” It seemed as if the twanger didn’t have anything to argue against that with until a nursing baby started snuffling and crying. Then she sniffed triumphantly and spat out as if it was the greatest argument of all. “But there’s children on board.” Yet Camina was prepared for it.
“There’re children in Manhattan, and Newark, and Brooklyn, the Bronx, Staten Island, and Hoboken. Do I put the comfort, not safety, just comfort, of the less than three hundred people on this plane before the immediate safety of millions? And remember, every second I remain on this plane, is another second that people are dying in New York.” As she’d feared, she was being recorded by more than one person’s cell phone, but also by her new journalist and she tried not to give him an annoyed twitch of her lips at that. He was just doing the job she gave him.
“It’s still not right.” The woman grumbled and Camina was going to leave it at that.
She scanned her eyes across the passenger compartment. They were scared. Scared and angry. Worried for themselves and for anyone they might know in New York. Then her gaze passed a man in, maybe, his fifties or so with a U.S.M.C. ballcap on. He looked like he was sleeping with his eyes closed and his head lowered, and it took a second for her brain to catch up with the fact that no one would be sleeping right now. Camin’s eyes jerked back to the man and looked him over more carefully. Oh, no! Sonofabitch. Quickly taking a few steps, Camina drew level with his row. She wanted to confirm her suspicions before… He had one.
A protective prayer charm for the patron saint of warriors.
It was on a chain around his wrist, and he was rubbing the worn surface compulsively as he murmured something under his breath. The image was barely recognizable as an angel with wings spread holding a large naked blade.
The archangel Michael.
CHAPTER 34
“Haaahh-ah-ah-le-lu-jaaaaaaah!” A familiar heavenly chorus sounded behind Camina. It was accompanied by the oh so very familiar sounding whoosh of air from a physical body essentially teleporting into existence, and a rustling like the flapping of very large wings. There were gasps and murmurs from the passengers who had seen him arrive.
Camina’s brow furrowed and she closed her eyes with a happy wince. Happy because she loved her patron like a brother. Wincing because he was…a lot. Over the top? And there wasn’t much he was allowed to do right now beside freak the heck out. Divine beings were not permitted to take direct action with their full divine powers on the mortal plane anymore.
No. Michael hadn’t told her why. Just that ‘there were rules’ and if he didn’t follow them, ‘there would be problems’. Gods were extremely limited in what they could do per The Treaty. Demi Gods, angels, and other semi-immortals had more leeway. Miracles were another matter. All divine beings were permitted to influence events through miracles when granting prayers. But there had to be a lot of damned prayer energy going any one way for that to happen.
“Oh, thank goodness.” His familiar voice called out, and the tall brunette turned slowly around to take a look at her patron. He was rolling his eyes with the most put upon expression on his face. “It’s about damned time someone said a prayer to me.”
“Hi, Michael.” She smiled with genuine, but restrained, delight. There he was in his human form. A young ethnically ambiguous man. Possibly Asian-mixed, possibly Hispanic, maybe there was some middle eastern in there? No one could tell and he wasn’t saying. But he clearly wasn’t only Caucasian.
He had thick dark curls that sometimes came down to his shoulders, and sometimes were kept short around his ears, or anywhere in-between. Right now? They came down to just about around his square jaw. Below the large ridiculously lustrous curls of his bangs – which dangled over his high forehead almost to his eyes like some schleppy-in-a-cool-way skater boy or surfer dude – were wide-spaced heavy brows, also black. Enviously prolific lashes framed brown, almond-shaped eyes.
The immortal patron, who had looked a decade older than her when they’d formed their pact, now looked younger than her by several decades. It didn’t bother Camina at all anymore. Nope. Just like she hadn’t been jealous of the freckles on his broad cheeks when she was a teenager. Michael’s age seemed to fluctuate slightly with his whim and Camina suspected that he could look older than her if he wanted to.
Her patron looked somewhere between his mid-teens to mid-twenties. Michael liked dark colors. Blues, greys, and blacks, colors and shades that went well with everything. Dressed in a pair of designer athletic joggers, tennis shoes, a T-shirt, and a zip front sweater jacket, the angel looked like an average high school or college athlete who was out for a morning run and planning to stop for latte after. Or he would have, if he hadn’t also been noticeably soft around his edges.
A stark contrast to Camina’s own svelte physique. So, he looked athletic, but not exceptionally so.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Rushing the twenty feet or so between himself and Camina, Michael took her up in a quick desperate hug. Though taller than his chosen form, the woman felt herself lifted off the floor momentarily before she was placed ever so gently down again. Concern suffused the angel’s face and his pearly white wings, politely folded and contained by his sweater jacket, were quivering over his shoulders.
“Are you okay?” His large hands grasped her shoulders and gave her a tiny shake as if to test that she was really there. “I’ve been waiting for the kids to call me, but they haven’t. Not one phone call, not one prayer.” Though he might have been known as the unyielding general of God’s armies, Michael was incredibly passionate and caring in his relationships with mortals. And he took his job as God father and honorary ‘uncle’ of Camina’s children quite seriously.
“If they haven’t called for help, they are probably fine.” Assurances fell from Camina’s lips despite fearing that her words were false. But she was trying to project calm.
“Are you sure? I can’t see anything in New York. The arcanes are way too high. Us angels can’t even hear anything out of there but a muddled muted mess and even though we want to go down and get up close so we can hear any prayers just in case, the boss is all like ‘Naw dawg. Dems da rules.’” When excited. Her patron tended to get a little hyperfixated and somewhat motormouthed. Words were coming at her fast and she was pretty sure those sentences would have been without punctuation if they were written. Then he hurried onward.
“And I was all like ‘I don’t care about no rules, if my gurl Anna calls I’mma gonna go and get her because she’s my godbaby and I…I…’” his tirade devolved into a sob of disconsolate worry. “I can’t hear her, Camina. I was supposed to – It was so sudden.”
Giving an empathetic sigh, the warlock patted her patron on the shoulder in a there-there kind of way. Then, because the mom in her just would not sleep ever, she picked some lint off his jacket and flicked it away. It was tough being an angel. Being able to hear all the world’s woes but unable to act on most of them.
Having to wait until the power of prayer was strong enough to act but that strength was not necessarily dictated by the number of people praying for something nor the passion behind their faith.
“Hey. I don’t know if it’s going to be okay. But I’m going to go down there and clear out the worst of the monsters.” Cupping his face in her hands, she smiled her bravest, most encouraging smile at her patron. “Why don’t you stay with these people and give them some faith. Answer their prayers and keep them safe until they get to a safe landing somewhere.” Gently, the warlock guided her patron to her vacated seat and Jim Thafesh, pockets bulging with gear and cameras strapped to his limbs and head, scooched out of the way around them.
Michael almost didn’t notice the young man at all until something caught his attention. Camina was trying to push the angel into her seat when he stopped and resisted. Putting a hand on the back of both Camina’s seat and the one in front of hers, he pushed back against her guiding hands. Head jerking up in sudden alarm, the dark-haired angel sniffed the air. Once.
“Wait a minute.” Eyebrows lowering in consternation, the words were growled out deeply with just the slightest hint of a chorus behind them. Divine power escaped in wisps and curls from his lips. He sniffed twice in succession. “What. Is. That.”
CHAPTER 35
Dark eyes with a hidden light behind them found Jim Thafesh as his gaze snapped to the source of whatever had caught his attention. His gaze narrowed with the unpleasant malevolence a father or uncle might give a man who was talking to his teenage daughter or niece. Realizing the jig was up and her patron had caught on to…something…about her new possibly-protégé that he didn’t like, Camina’s shoulders sagged like she was said teenage girl knowing her ‘uncle’ was about to give some young man a talking to just for being friendly.
“Stop.” The softly spoken command resonated through the air and stopped Jim in his steps despite the young journalist’s back being turned so he didn’t know that it had been directed at him. “Come here.” Now Jim became aware of the archangel’s malice on is back as his feet began walking backward on their own accord then turned him around to face the angel.
“Oh. You meant me?” Gesturing at himself as he asked the obvious question, Camina realized that Jim was just digging the proverbial hole bigger. Though for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what her patron’s problem could be.
“Michael – ” She began before the archangel lifted and hand and made a ‘shut it’ gesture clamping his fingers together like a shadow puppet mouth.
“Quiet, Camina.” He’d silenced her in a way that he never had before and she immediately shut her stunned mouth, straightened up, and paid attention. “Let me just check something first.” Slowly, the archangel reached out one large, manicured hand and extended his index finger. Unable to move his feet, Jim began to lean away from the incoming finger. “Stop moving.” Michael commanded.
Concerned, the journalist glanced at Camina worriedly, but she gave him a distracted and reassuring nod. Jim’s focused eyes appeared to cross as they watched the incoming finger looming closer to his face. For his part, Michael’s gaze was fixed on a spot somewhere on the trembling journalist’s forehead. In a careful movement, the archangel swiped his index finger over Jim’s brow as if he was stealing a taste of frosting off a cake.
Michael then switched his focus to the finger as he critically examined whatever he’d gotten off of Jim. For his part, Jim looked even more confused as he couldn’t see anything at all on the finger. He kept glancing between Camina and Michael in befuddlement. After several seconds of intense scrutiny, the angel lifted the finger to his face and touched it daintily to the tip of his tongue.
Immediately he pulled the finger away. Making a tight-lipped grimace, he dropped his hands in defeat. Then sniffing disdainfully Michael turned to Camina.
“He’s…” Pausing as if he couldn’t even bring himself to say the words, did not reassure Jim about whatever the angel was about to reveal about him. Then exhaling with a vibrating of his lips like he was blowing raspberries, Michael shook his head in disgust. “He’s been snared by fate.”
“Ohhh!” A disappointed groan escaped the soldier. “No. Not again. He’s mine now. They can’t have him back.” Her shoulders dropped and she gave them a little shake before straightening again and heading to the front of the plane to remind the copilot that he needed to let them out from a rear door. He’d need to unstrap himself and connect his harness again after relocating.
“What’s happening?” Jim had been working his tongue in his mouth before finally getting up the nerve to ask.
“Nothing.” Michael assured him in the most unconvincing way. “You’ll be fine. Just stick with Camina and do what feels right to you.” Absently, the archangel patted the young human on the shoulder before sitting down and buckling himself into Camina’s vacant seat. Noticing that the speechless journalist was still standing where he’d forcibly drawn hi, Michael looked up.
“Shoo, shoo.” Hand gestures accompanied the instructions and Jim Thafesh, newly appointed embedded journalist of, arguably, the most famous warlock alive wandered towards the rear of the passenger compartment that he’d been shooed towards. More nervous now from pondering whatever had bothered the archangel than he’d initially been at the prospect of jumping out of a plane without a parachute. Wait a minute! They did say that there’s no parachutes on this plane?
Red-faced with embarrassment, the copilot huffed slightly as Camina ushered him toward the back of the plane. He clipped his harness onto a seat leg across from the door and adjusted the length of the tether before locking that in place also. Almost as if on cue, the speakers for the announcement system came to life and the remarkably professional voice of the pilot was broadcast to the passengers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.” Did he sound just the slightest bit excited about the crazy shit he was about to do? Maybe. “The oxygen masks are about to be released. Please put them on as quickly as possible. Secure your mask before securing the mask of anyone you are assisting. As soon as I’ve been notified that everyone has their mask, I will begin depressurizing the cabin.”
Short, startled shrieks sounded as oxygen masks descended suddenly. Cumulative hisses filled the compartments as air began to flow. People fumbled with their masks and put them on. It was at this point that Jim realized that he didn’t have one. Neither did Camina, but she had divine powered battle armor. Or did she.
“You aren’t going to suit up?” He whispered to her quietly. “Also, we don’t have masks.” Smirking a smile out of the corner of her full lips, Camina shrugged nonchalantly.
“Can’t suit up in this confined space. I’d damage the plane. We don’t need oxygen. We’re honestly not that high.” Her assurance had serious overtones of being superior to civilians. “Deep breaths. Exhale fully and quickly, inhale slowly and shallowly. Once you’re out of the plane, even deep breaths. You first, I’ll follow and catch you. But you’ll be falling for a while because we need some distance for safety while I summon my armor.”
“Okay.” Jim nodded. And he kept nodding. More than he really needed to. Was he starting to shake? “Oh, God. What am I doing?” Camina smiled kindly at him with a brilliant flash of her celebrity-white teeth. She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder Jim noticed that there was an ornate white metal combat knife with gold inlay strapped to one muscular arm. Her pact item.
“You are about to help try to protect and save over eight million people from class one, class two, class three, and class four monster manifestations.” Jim had looked away from the warrior before him, ashamed that he was considering backing out of his dream job because he was afraid of jumping out of a plane. Her words drew his gaze upward once more. When Jim met Camina’s eyes, there wasn’t any condemnation there. Just faith.
“This is the captain speaking.” The hollow tones of the announcement system started again. “I’ve been informed by the flight crew that all passengers are ready. Depressurization is starting now. Remain in your seat with your seatbelt secured.” Dull and muted roaring began. Growing in intensity until it stopped, still mostly muted.
The copilot grimaced as he held up his hand with three fingers, then two fingers, than one and opened the door and Camina helped him swing it inward. More likely, she was helping him prevent it from swinging in too quickly. Jim staggered as the wind pummeled the interior of the aircraft. Grabbing on to the seat behind him, Jim steadied himself. Which lasted a moment before he felt Camina’s hand on his shoulder again.
He looked up at her as the wind howled around them. She was grinning wildly, excitement lighting up her eyes. Then she pulled Jim forward to the edge and his eyes widened with burgeoning panic. Before he could react though, Camina Wattkins pushed Jim Thafesh out the open door of the plane and down forcefully into the empty blue expanse of the sky.
CHAPTER 36
“Oh Shiiiit!” Jim’s scream came out breathy and he tried not to lose consciousness. Sky howled past him, his journey deafening. His unprepared exit from the plane had resulted in him being in a sideways position. Off in the distance, the horizon was a vertical line from his current orientation.
He was falling and the ground was far, far away but it was also entirely too close. Because it was everywhere below him. Everywhere. Remembering that the least he could do was document what was happening, Jim pulled his splayed arms to his chest and carefully braced the camera securely strapped into his white-knuckled grip to his eye so he could focus it. After filming a few seconds of the ground, he windmilled his arms and flipped himself onto his back.
There the plane was flying away in the near distance. Already further away than he’d like even if it was entirely too late to get back inside. As he watched, Camina seemed to fall out of the opening in the rear of the fuselage. Brown hair streaming behind her, the distant woman spread her arms and maneuvered away from the retreating aircraft which began banking almost as soon as she was clear.
A golden light enveloped the woman gradually coalescing into armor. Glistening pearlescent in the bright sunlight, the summoned armor transformed her clothing around her. Or maybe it covered her clothing. Honestly, he couldn’t remember if that had been covered in any of Camina’s interviews before. Right now, it didn’t matter what the nitty gritty was, just that he was watching, and filming, the magnificent transformation of The Harbinger of Light.
Yep. He was fanboying out hard core while trying to keep his camera steady. A full body suit of what looked like powered mechanical armor out of some kind of science fiction movie. Instead of being powered by some kind of convenient unobtainium MacGuffin, the Saint of Warriors Armor of God’s General was powered by magic and divinity channeled through the warlock pact with the archangel Michael. It was based, vaguely, on the armor her patron wore in battle. Though, historical renderings made Michael’s look decidedly less technological.
What had been the knife strapped to her forearm enlarged and morphed into a giant rifle mounted on the pearly white metal of her gauntlet. All the segments around her joints and her waist were covered in some kind of flexible gold scale alloy. Then Camina’s body spasmed, her spine arching and her appendages splaying wide as her wings erupted from her back in a spectacular display. Multi-segmented wings made up of huge shimmering armored plates shaped like feathers. The individual pieces were jointed together with golden divine magic.
Despite the edges of his vision trying to darken, the journalist fought his body’s desire to faint. These were the moments he lived for. The shots no one else would get, the stories no one else would tell. Camina’s eyes were covered by the sleek white helmet of her armor behind the reflective polarized visor. Her wings flexed as she slowed in the air and Jim saw the distance between them had begun to widen.
Just as quickly though, she’d tucked the wings close and dove after him. Drawing near, she swooped to match velocities with the plummeting man. Tracking her relentlessly, Jim never took his camera off the armored woman. Even as she approached and seemed to hover beside him, taking the time to de-polarize her visor and smile at him before holding out her arms to very carefully cradle his falling form. Ever so slowly, Jim Thafesh felt resistance against the pull of gravity pressing him against the mech armor.
Once she arrested their uncontrolled fall, Camina started flying.
It was glorious.
They were still high up and the ground was still rushing toward them but not nearly as fast as it had been before. Now they were soaring, gliding on air currents. Towering skyscrapers solidified out of the blurry landscape. Then smaller buildings, the river, tarmac and streets. Vehicles and things that had once been vehicles.
They began slowing and the scents and sounds of the city hit Jim even as he continued filming. Smoke, trash, the acrid stench of jet fuel and too much magic filled the air. Sirens were wailing both near and far. An emergency response vehicle lodged upside down in a second story window gallery overlooking the airport tarmac was making an intermittent ‘whoop’, ‘whoop’ as it tried to sound its siren. Its light flashed periodically from beneath it, reflecting eerily from the shaded walls of the terminal.
The intact windows of the terminal were polarized and reflective, so it was impossible to see if there were any injured people around the damage. Roaring and crashing came from further on beyond the weird angular construction of the airport terminal. Whatever it was, was massive. Especially if they could see glimpses of its limbs over the roof of the building and hear it over the rushing wind and the hum of Camina’s powered armor.
With what felt like not nearly enough caution, Camina set down on the closer side of the terminal roof. Thankfully, she’d chosen an area that was still structurally sound. Relieved to touch a flat surface again, Jim almost forgot that he was filming. Her face showing just the right amount of concern, Camina opened her visor.
“You alright, Mr. Thafesh?” Eyebrows raised in inquiry; Camina spoke quietly to avoid drawing attention to them before she was ready. The woman somehow managed to convey the image of friendly neighbor…clad in magical armor and toting a giant pulse rifle that could transform into a wicked lance or sword. Nodding, Jim responded haltingly.
“Yes…yes, Ma’am.” He’d started straightening his clothing without thinking about it with one hand while the other was still trying to keep his camera steady.
“Excellent. Let’s go take a look at what is making such a racket, shall we?” Camina’s wings retracted into her suit. Crouching, she gestured for the journalist to follow her to the side of the building where the monster was actively moving around.
CHAPTER 37
12:40 PM September 13th 2026
Industrial Park District Near the Port of New York
Sam was…not good after the call from Anna. All this time, she’d assumed that her little sister was safe. If not at her very expensive, prestigious, and supposedly extremely secure private school, then at home or at work with their father. Either way, she should have been in a safe location.
Not only was Anna not secure, but she had also been unable to get ahold of their father. So, in addition to the horror of listening to the screams of terror from the people with Anna over the call and the sounds of a large monster manifestation. Sam was also imagining all kinds of crazy shitty scenarios vying for space in her brain, narrating what horrible things could have happened to their father both before and after the incident.
Had he tried to get to Anna only to be eaten by the very monsters that were now endangering her younger sister? Maybe. Possibly. Sam didn’t know. She didn’t know.
Why hadn’t her dad gotten Anna when the school called? He never had appointments that lasted more than one hour let alone multiple hours. Had his secretary not given him the message? Had he been mugged on his way to work this morning or on his way to get Anna and was lying in a gutter dead or dying somewhere and no one had found him because of the emergency?
Ahhhh!
And why didn’t Kyle have his phone on him?
What the artificers fuck, Kyle!
Sam was on the verge of hyperventilating in concerned fear and outrage at the unreal and unholy combination of negligence and general incompetence that had led to this situation. If dad or Kyle had answered their phones or checked their messages, Anna would be much safer right now. Okay. In all fairness, if that damned school had proper magic shielding this might not have been an issue at all.
Maybe. Was the school building able to withstand an attack from a class three or four monster? Or a herd of them? She didn’t know.
“Fuuuck!” It came out as a long, frustrated growl and Sam ran both hands through her hair, mussing her perfectly smooth tie back. Much in the same way her brother did when he was frustrated, she grabbed her roots and gave a gentle tug of pent-up emotion. Then Samantha Wattkins swallowed down her feelings.
This was not the time. It was not the time at all. Wrenching her thoughts back to the present, Sam got to work.
“Okay.” One more deep breath steadied her and a calming pat on Gleipnir where he nuzzled her waist comfortingly settled him as well. Their combined auras had been doing that thing again. When they were agitated, well, it wasn’t good. It made the area around them unpleasant to be in. And if pressed hard enough, the aura alone could become a weapon that injured anyone who came within its radius.
“Okay?” Frank questioned from a distance. He’d called back the team he’d had guarding the perimeter of the primary danger zone when Anna’s call notified him of much more dangerous monsters than he’d been anticipating.
“Yeah.” Though Sam’s voice and expression were reassuring and calm, Alex eyed her partner skeptically. And Frank’s eyes darted from Sam, to Alex, and back to Sam, clearly wondering if the younger agent could tell whether or not Sam was lying. Dropping her shoulders, Sam rolled her eyes at Alex then gave her field boss a flat look. “We. Are. Fine.” The magical engineer gestured between herself and Gleipnir’s ‘head’ still cuddling his warlock consolingly along the curve of her waist.
“Yes.” Gleipnir agreed, the emotion of his voice giving the impression of someone who had been crying but had now pulled themself together despite their sore throat and stuffy nose. “My Sammy is a big strong girl. She’ll be able to fight even if her sister and brother are off dying under an overwhelming wave of monsters and her father might be having an affair.”
“Gleipnir!” Alex was equal parts amused and aghast and she choked back a laughing gasp. “That is…that is not how you comfort someone.” Frank was less decorous and actually snorted before covering his mouth with one hand as if he were just thinking. Then he turned back around to face outward for signs of monsters.
“Thank you for that Gleip” Dry and caustic, Sam’s tone may be, it was lost on her oblivious pact item. The sentient artifact merely acknowledged what he thought was his just dues.
“You’re welcome, Sam.” The munificence of his reply indicated he had no idea that he’d made a grave faux pas. Even Sam snorted at that as she blinked back the wet glimmer in her eyes. Because it was clear that Gleipnir deeply cared for his warlock and was just showing that he had her back, however clumsily.
Then he sniffed.
At first, Alex thought he was being stuck-up Gleipnir again, but no, he sniffed again. Then twice more. Swiftly the artifact unwrapped his chain from around his warlock and shifted more of his bulk into his sword-shape. That made Alex take note as he lifted himself up slowly to whisper in Sam’s ear.
“Do you feel that?” His voice was low but not so low that he couldn’t be heard by the two agents closest to him and Sam. Gleipnir’s ‘face’, or the part of his sword-shape that Alex had come to realize he’d designated as his face, was angled toward the warehouse they had yet to investigate.
Sam was nodding, her eyes narrowing as she too turned to face whatever he was sensing. Alex found herself nodding as well at the sick twisting churn of magic coming from the building which had, until moments before, just been a part of the oversaturated chaos in the ambient magic levels. She almost wanted to vomit. A few of the agents that happened to be closer to the building began retching uncontrollably.
“What is that?” It was unnatural. Unholy. A filthy perversion that Alex desperately feared and felt needed to be immediately cleansed from existence. Yet it was just a feeling, a sensation. Nails on the chalkboard of reality.
“Monster manifestation.” Gleipnir whispered. “High level. Too high level. Turn your magic collector back on. Now. Now. Now. PERSONAL SHIELDS NOW!!!”
CHAPTER 38
Alex hadn’t waited for Gleipnir to finish his scream. She’d switched her portable magic collector on the second the other agents had started vomiting. Magical engineers had to be sensitive to the currents of magic. It was a requirement for the job. Whatever was brewing in that warehouse near the second magical source, the source that hadn’t been directly dampened at all, was bad news.
“Integumentum infernis.” Sam whispered and a whooshing followed by the muted crackling of flames began as a circle of fire surrounded her. The circle grew up into a wall that then collapsed onto her body. Now, the warlock was covered in a second skin of enchanted fire.
“Good choice, my girl.” Gleipnir approved loudly, projecting his voice so that all the agents could hear. “A very arcane hungry spell, it should help burn off a significant portion of the magic before it reaches your body and causes magic poisoning.”
“You heard the men,” Frank roared to his subordinates. “Cast your highest cost shield spells. We’re going to drain arcanes right out of the air by brute force if we have to.” From the warehouse came the sounds of something large stirring. Huffing, growling, clanking. A screech of tearing metal and then the roof of the building began sinking where a support was clearly no longer doing its job.
“Scutum fedei.” A paladin that was on his knees coughed out between retches. Sam was somehow beside the man already. When had that happened? She’d just
been back over to Alex’s left a few seconds ago, hadn’t she?
As soon as the spell summoned by the paladin was in effect, he became noticeably less sick. The magic hungry spell eating up the ambient magic around his body at a terrific rate. For a moment, Alex watched dumbly as her partner was running from one downed agent to another, standing beside them for a few moments until summoned their own spell, and then running off to the next one. It was as if Sam’s presence was making the sick people better.
“She’s syphoning off the magic around them with her spell, so they have a chance to activate their own defenses.” Frank grabbed Alex by the shoulder and pulled-shoved her along with him. “Come on. We have to get them out of there.
They’re too close to the source. Shield up!” Frank’s spell was just the basic shield spell that all agents learned in training. But he was clearly modulating it to feed more off the ambient magic as a glimmering aurora surrounded him with arcane symbols.
Alex…was a magical engineer. She was not a front line, first responding kind of agent. This wasn’t what she had trained for. Was it? She was supposed to be in a hygienic, sealed lab somewhere dismantling and examining illegal magitech. Not running into a Prometheus purple zone that was about to turn pink really quick. Today was seriously making her rethink her career choices.
She was proficient with the standard shield. But it really wasn’t sufficient for this situation. She couldn’t use the one the paladin had as that was a faith-based spell. Maybe, maybe she could do the one that Sam had used?
“Rosolvere et effingo, integumentum infernis.” She directed the analyze portion of her spell at Sam, and then the copying portion at herself to initiate the spell. Hot damn. Her vision flashed blank and white as the knowledge of the spell wrote itself upon her mind. “Shit.” It came out breathy and she gasped a short cry of alarm as she was engulfed in flames for the first time in her life.
Taking a brief moment, she examined her hand and saw the inferno blazing around her. Satisfied that she had completed the spell correctly, Alex ran off to join the fray and rescue some of the agents who were still debilitated by the high levels of arcanes in the area. Sam had glanced up with a frown when she felt herself at the center of the rosolvere spell, but she smiled at Alex and called out as she was standing over another coworker waiting for them to regain their breath so she could help them up.
“That was great, Alex. Excellent control in the examination. Nice and steady.” Did Sam just compliment her? Well, miracles came in all sorts of forms apparently. Skidding to a halt in front of a young Asian man, Alex focused her thoughts into sucking up as much magic into her shield as was possible.
She was directing external arcanes in a way similar to what she did with enchanting, but instead of directing magic into an object or intention, she was lighting it on fire and using it up. It was something her artificer instructors in college would have been appalled to see. Such waste. The young man’s bowed head was bobbing as his stomach emptied its contents without his control and the sounds and smell was making Alex sick to her stomach as well.
“You’re gonna be okay.” She offered the suited agent unhelpfully, hoping that she
was pulling enough arcanes away from him. Glancing at the Prometheus sensor on her wrist, it was clear that the magic levels were dangerously close to pink even inside her barrier.
“Tai…Tai…” He was trying to cast his spell, but he was choking on vomit between gasping attempts. Knowing that she had to do more but knowing that he wouldn’t be able to control the shield if she placed one on him herself, Alex did the only thing she could. She increased the flow of arcanes into her fire skin and grabbed the man’s arm.
He screamed and spewed flecks of vomit all down Alex’s front as she yanked him to his feet and pulled his arm over her shoulder. Her shield burned him where it touched him but if she let it down, she’d be as debilitated as he was. “Taiyō...” He screeched, not even trying to pull away because the fire that burned him was also burning up the arcanes that were poisoning him. “Taiyō no yoroi”
CHAPTER 39
Once the words had been uttered in full, then and only then did he lunge off Alex’s support and stumble forward. A brilliant flare of light engulfed him, erupting in a blaze that rivaled the bright light of the sun. Shielding her eyes, Alex tried to focus on the man. Was he okay? Had something gone wrong with his spell?
He looked like he’d combusted into a pillar of white-hot molten…something. Then, Alex saw the bright pillar-blob start moving. A blurry slightly darker triangle began to appear and disappear on the undulating lower half of the pillar, and he realized he was walking. Not fast, but not bent over and vomiting like he had been a few moments before.
“I’m fine.” He gasped out, then bending over, waved her off. “Go help someone else. I’m as good as I’m going to be.” With a shrugging shake of her head, Alex headed off to find someone else who needed help.
A glance around showed her that her earlier hesitation meant that other agents had rescued most of the people who’d been in distress. Those who had recovered quickly, had helped others. It had been fast. Now the last of the group were hobbling towards their vehicles in preparation for evacuation.
Seeing that her charge had already taken off towards the vehicles, Alex looked for Sam. Sam and Frank were escorting a pair of agents, one of whom was too injured to manage on their own. Somewhat jealously, Alex noticed that her fellow magical engineer was able to manipulate her shield so that she didn’t burn the person she was helping.
Behind them the rumbling from the building became a deafening roar. Concrete and metal crumbled and fell. Chunks impacting whatever they landed on with echoes and crunches. Chancing a glance back, Alex saw what resembled an avalanche in reverse. Debris launched itself into the crystal-clear sky. Huge, medium, small as dust? It didn’t matter. It was all going up in what would have been spectacular special effects in a movie.
Yeah! She could admit that. Her mind admitted numbly. Even as a remote and tiny part of her mind was urgently screaming an alarm for her to flee, flee now because her life depended on it. Alex’s legs had slowed in stunned awe. What on Earth could it be?
Was it the unidentified source of arcanes? Was it a monster manifestation? What had transformed? Legs slowing further, the magic technician came nearly to a stop half turned to watch her approaching doom.
Sam, Frank and the others were nearly to the first group of vehicles by the time she realized that Alex wasn’t with her anymore.
“Where’s Alex?” She shouted over the man supported between her and Frank. Her words were eaten by the sound of imminent death coming from behind them.
“She was right behind us.” Frank shouted back, the lines around his eyes and mouth drawn in a tight grimace. Sam’s forehead furrowed and her head jerked around to look for Alex as Frank yanked open a car door.
“I’m going back for her.” Before he had finished helping the person they were supporting into it, Sam had dashed back into what was now a billowing cloud shooting the occasional sizzling boulder of warehouse into the air.
“Fuck. Sam” Checking to make sure the person they’d rescued was secured, Frank looked back into the cloud that was making its way toward them as it fell toward the ground.
“Don’t wait up.” She screamed back to him as she loped away. Gleipnir was in her hand and she plunged into the dust, her body nothing more than a faint glow in the growing darkness of the cloud.
“Damnit.” Shaking his head, Frank almost tossed his keys to someone else, but changing his mind hurried around to the door. Several vehicles had already evacuated but some had stopped to watch Sam with horror as she ran into a churning maelstrom. “What are the rest of you waiting for. Fall back. Fall back.” He circled one arm in the air for emphasis and pointed out the difficult to navigate terrain before he swung himself into his vehicle and left as quickly as the damaged infrastructure would let him.
Meanwhile, Sam didn’t slow in her sprint back for Alex despite the reduced visibility. Spells rattled off her lips for additional physical shielding, for sight int the dark, for heat vision. She was flipping through spells as fast as she could trying to find where her new junior agent had gone.
Ignoring the blisters forming on her lips from her rapid-fire incantations, the magical engineer faced a living embodiment of destruction in little more than her pants suit. The coppery taste of blood in her mouth mixed with the sweet-savory heaviness of the arcanes she was pulling through her. Was that maybe slightly brighter spot in the cloud Alex. It was impossible to tell under these conditions.
“Oh.” Shaking her head in disgust, Sam yanked the buttons on her wrist open and rolled up her cuffs. “The hell with this.”
As a warlock, Sam wasn’t used to taking in ambient magic. Her power was granted by her patron, the Norse goddess Frigg. Because of this, a large majority of her magic was creation related, weaving in particular. Which was why Gleipnir, a needle and or thread type sentient item, had been her granted pact item.
And while many might think that the creative and fiber arts-oriented obsession of Frigg’s nature might be exceedingly limiting on the magics available to her warlocks, it gave them an advantage that many warlocks lacked. Creativity. And the ability to layer styles of magic and spells to make them more powerful than they would ever be just relying on the magic granted to them by their goddess.
“Vefa ok sauma.” Weave and sew. Sam spoke it quietly, whispering it almost lovingly from her lips as her intention gathered both the power granted by her patron and readied the spell to be fed by the ambient magic. Despite her soft voice, the words of power seemed to dampen the raging noise around her, an all-encompassing command in the vortex of dim yellow light. Raising her hand, the young woman faced the obscured potential doom defiantly and spoke three precise words.
“Bregðandi. Nordr. Kaldr.” For a second, all the world stopped.
CHAPTER 40
“Bregðandi. Nordr. Kaldr.” Wind. North. Cold. In that second, a wave of cold billowed out from Sam. In her hand Gleipnir shivered. Sam had used the spells for weaving and sewing to combine the essence of wind, the North, and cold. Essentially creating a spell for the North Wind on the fly.
“Brrr.” He gasped, as ice crystalized outward leaping from one dust or debris particle to another. “I hate that spell.”
His words rang clearly as the spell worked to freeze the chaotic movement around them. The crackling of frost was the only sound for those instants. With a cracking whoosh that swiftly grew thunderous, the grit and debris hindering sight was blasted away with the magical engineer and her pact item as the epicenter. Able to see once more, Samantha Wattkins wiped some dirt from her sweat streaked face.
A quiet sob drew her attention. Finally! Sam thought in exasperation. That was Alex for sure. She’d expected her partner to be looking for everyone else. But she wasn’t. She was staring at something. Something that was behind Sam and a little to the right. Something high. Transfixed.
Then Sam heard it.
The rumbling of concrete slabs grinding against one another was back. With it, the squealing screech of tearing and bending metal. Then a crumbling boom. It shook the ground and made all the destroyed asphalt of the parking lot she was in tremble at the impact. Followed by more rumbling and screeching, and another boom. More trembling.
“Oh, for the love of doughnuts!” Gleipnir used one of Kyle’s favorite Anna-safe-Camina-approved curses. He wiggled out of Sam’s grasp and turned to glare in the direction of the noise. He gave a small, strangled yelp. “Don’t look, Sam.” He admonished in a quiet whisper, as swiftly returned himself to her hand. “Just grab Alex and run.”
“I think maybe perhaps I should look, Gleip.” Sam countered with trepidation.
“It can’t be that bad.”
“No. Just run. Right now it’s attention is on Alex, but the second you move it will notice you, and we are much closer to it that Alex.” Low and tight, his voice had no levity in it. Just concern for his warlock.
“Is it about to eat Alex?” It was still a bright sunny day and Sam was starting to wish she’d worn sunglasses. She could feel sweat that was from more than her exertion saturating the blouse under her jacket. Like, what she wouldn’t give to be able to adjust her bra right now.
“Ehh.” Gleipnir waffled, as another footstep slammed down more to heir right than behind them this time. “It’s looking like that.”
“Fuck it.” Sam exclaimed, a little too loudly then hushed her voice as she continued. “I’m looking.” She turned to her right, not sure what to expect, but not at all expecting what she saw. It was…
…a building?
With legs!
“Fucking, what!” the shout got its attention and the front? The head? Whatever it was swung towards Sam and Gleipnir. It lurched ponderously towards the pair and the warlock was already sprinting towards her partner as her pact item screamed at her.
“Run! Damnit. Run! I told you not to look, you stubborn warlock.” Though he could have far surpassed her in speed, Gleipnir stayed with his warlock, letting her hold him like a weapon as she ran for her coworker.
“Now’s not really the time to rub it in, Gleip!” She shouted back, regretting the last cup of coffee she had as the strenuous activity brought a burnt coffee and bile taste to the back of her throat.
“Now’s the only time to rub it in.” He hollered back unrepentantly. “If you die in the next few minutes, I’ll never get to tell you I was right!”
“Fphft.” She tried not to laugh as she continued running.
“Okay. I fear to say it again.” The sentient pact item was keeping a look out for the oncoming warehouse which had somehow become an entire monster manifestation. “But don’t look now, it’s decided you are too fast and gone back to targeting Alex.”
Redoubling her efforts to reach her partner, Sam did chance a short glance to her right that nearly sent her stumbling as she miss judged the height of an uplifted slab of asphalt. Catching her balance, Sam kept running. But though she was fast, the head of the larger monster was nearing Alex.
“I told you not to look, again.” Grumbling continued, but quietly to not distract her.
“Why is she just sitting there?” Had Sam ever run this fast in her life? Maybe. She didn’t know. “Get up!” She shouted at Alex. “Get up and run, Alex. RUN!”
But Alex didn’t run. She stayed there on the ground in the half-stupefied trance of horror as a behemoth of corrupted magic bore down on her. It’s maw gaping. Huge teeth dripping the lubricating oil that had kept the warehouse’s machinery working. A body hung from a shattered hole in the carapace. Small streams of blood flowed from various cracks.
“Alex. Alex. Run.” Still, she hadn’t moved. Her eyes were transfixed on the body hanging out of the mouth. With a safety helmet on. A factory worker.
Shit. There had been people working in there.
“It’s no good, Sam.” Far too calmly, Gleipnir informed her. “I suspect that monster has some kind of paralysis or trance effect on its prey. I can feel the magic emanating towards us but I’m keeping it at bay.”
“Well, fuck!” Pouring on the speed, Sam ripped her wand out of its holster and pointed it at Alex.
“PRAESIDUM!” The spell tore out of her mouth at her top power level, scorching her lips as it went. A spherical invisible shield sprang to life around Alex with seconds to spare. The invisible shield flared as jagged steel girder teeth impacted on them. Two snapped.
Hearting hammering, Sam plunged through the shield and yanked Alex to her feet. Now the terrified agent shrieked. Screaming loudly in Sam’s face before realizing that it was someone there to help her. Without slowing her rush, Sam dragged the hapless Alex along behind her.
“Come on.” Gleipnir wrapped his tail around Alex to shield her from the mesmerizing effects of the monster as they fled.
CHAPTER 41
Alex wasn’t doing well. Her legs were barely moving, and it was slowing Sam down. This was a problem because Gleipnir could see the glee come over the warehouse monster’s face as it realized that and changed its ponderous trajectory to hunt them. This was not good.
“Carry her.” He shouted at his warlock. For her part, Sam rolled her eyes so hard she could have sprained them.
“With what superhuman strength genius?” Always feisty, Sam’s snap took Gleipnir by surprise.
“Your patrons. Duh.” If he had a genuine face, it would have sneered at her incredulously. As it was, his voice dripped with disdain. “Use. A. Spell.” Sam gave a single sharp bark of laughter because she couldn’t afford more while she was exerting herself so strenuously.
“Which one. I don’t know a strength spell.” For a second, Gleipnir was stunned silent.
“Of course, you do.” He argued, because how could she not?
“No.” It came out as a huff between gasping inhalations. “I don’t.”
“Yes. You do!” The pact item insisted. “Fortification.”
“That just makes… me resistant to things… that could harm me… it doesn't… make me able to… preform… feats… of… strength.” Sam was coming to a gradual stop and took a second to catch her breath. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the monster was far enough away for a break, but not far enough to be safe.
“Well, shit.” It wasn’t eloquent, but it was a succinct evaluation of their situation. Her pact item paused for a moment, then wiggled the end of his ribbon tail in his version of a shrug, “Eh. Then leave her. No one will know.”
“Gleip!” Eyes widening, Sam gave a chuckle. She could tell from his tone of voice that he didn’t mean it. Things weren’t that dire yet. But Sam also knew that he’d knock Sam unconscious and drag her to safety while leaving Alex behind in a second if he thought that’s what was necessary to keep her safe.
Twisting her body to get a better look at the monster as it closed on them, she sighed, lowered her shoulders and lifted her wand again.
“Vefa ok sauma. Handleggr. Grund.” Weave and sew. Arms. Earth. Two disturbingly human-looking hands of soil erupted from the fractured and uneven asphalt. The hands were attached to arms of earth. And the hands secured themselves around the monster’s rubble and twisted metal legs.
A brief struggle showered the trio with rubble and dirt. But the improvised prison held, and Sam took the opportunity to hurry Alex to their car. Shoving the shivering and shuddering junior agent into her seat, Sam began fumbling with her seatbelt only for Gleipnir to interrupt her.
“Forget that.” He hissed, as the monster continued struggling against the restraints on its legs. “I’ll secure her.” To show he meant it, Gleipnir floated into his spot behind and between the two front seats, but instead of letting the length of his flexible ribbon tail drape beneath him, he looped it over and around Alex, securing her in place. “I got you, kid.” He patted her face as her frenetic breathing finally started calming.
Sam had already hurried around to the other side of the car and after securing herself, started up the vehicle. Slamming it into drive, she accelerated. Though she’d been careful on the drive in, Sam did not take the time to carefully navigate her way through the large, uplifted chunks of asphalt, cracks in the road, or the overturned vehicles that littered the sides of the street.
Instead, she took the turns as fast as she could, dodging around obstacles recklessly. The communication scroll on the dash showed the last instructions from Frank. She gave it a tap so it would reroll and display messages from where she had last checked it when she parked.
“Gleip, could you read that for me while I drive?”
“Indubiously.”
“Indubitably. Gleip.” Alex corrected as she started becoming a bit more coherent and her shivering subsided. Sam chuckled with relief as she rounded a sharp turn.
“If you’re fighting with Gleip then you must be okay.” There was grunt from Alex and a glowering growl from Gleipnir, then silence. “Could you read the messaged for me?” She gently reminded Gleipnir as the silence droned on.
“Ah. Yes.” He made a throat clearing sound, the one that always annoyed most people because they assumed that he didn’t have a throat and began narrating.
“Frank says, ‘Sam, Alex, or Gleipnir, if you’re still alive, we’ve withdrawn to the secondary perimeter.’ I think,” Gleipnir added helpfully, “That he means they ran away to where the destruction of the road stops so its easier to flee like the cowards they are if we aren’t able to take care of that thing on our own.”
“Ahahahaahaha!” Borderline hysterical laughter came from Alex as she listened to Gleipnir. The pact item turned the blank metal of his ‘head’ to ‘look’ at her. Which was unnerving because he had no face and no expression. Sam just raised an eyebrow and smirked. What? That was funny.”
“You think I’m joking?” Voice a little higher with indignation, Gleipnir confronted the woman.
“Well, of course.” She nodded amiably. “No one could possibly expect the two of you to handle something that size on your own.” Now Sam chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand for a moment, then quickly putting it back on the steering wheel to correct course around another hole in the road.
“Oops. My bad.” She made a show of focusing on the road and straightening in her seat. “You gonna tell her Gleip?” The befuddled Alex looked between the warlock and pact item pair with amused suspicion. They were putting her on, pulling one over on her. It was just another one of their jokes. Gleipnir turned to his warlock.
“I will tell her.” He spoke with all the superiority he could muster then swiveled back to Alex. “I…” he paused for dramatic effect while drawing himself up his ribbon tail lengthening with additional coils around him, “am Gleipnir.”
That was it.
That was all he said.
Glancing at her partner, Alex could see that Sam was sucking on her lips to prevent herself from laughing. Whether at her partner or at her pact item, Alex wasn’t sure. But even though she was blocking the sun with one hand and squinting through the sunlight, Sam’s face was fighting a smile.
So, Alex focused on the proud and posturing Gleipnir.
“And…?” she prompted. “I knew that.”
“What? But…” The haughty set of his ribbon and the jaunty angle of his body shifted down slightly. “Don’t you know what that means?”
“That you are a sentient magical pact item from some famous powerful magic being.” She paused thoughtfully before adding, “Oh yeah, and you’re old as dirt.” Sam laughed. But it was a short terse laugh. Despite the levity they were trying to bring to the situation, Alex couldn’t help but notice that Sam was checking the rearview mirror regularly.
She took a look herself and regretted seeing the moving form of the thing that had almost eaten her struggling to escape the bindings that Sam had placed on it. Maybe they could handle it themselves? No. Maybe? No…?
“I’m Gleipnir.” He corrected her gently. Alex refocused her attention on him. Still the words didn’t mean anything to her other than his name. So what? He was Gleipnir. How was that name significant?
She searched her mind, and she could have sworn that the needle-sword thing was gazing at her expectantly, searching her face even though it had no eyes to see with. Gleipnir. Norse mythology. Fenrir. Ragnarök. That was back in 2012. Scary shit. Gleipnir was what they called the thing that they tied up Fenrir with.
“You’re named after the thing that used to hold Fenrir before Ragnarök.” Alex guessed. If anything, the sentient pact item seemed to become more disappointed with her.
“I am Gleipnir.” He told her firmly but softly. “I was created specifically to hold that poor child, Fenrir, restrained and imprisoned for hundreds of years before my conscience finally won out and I released him. But the point is, that monster,” he nodded behind them, “…it’s just a manifested being. Powered by the arcanes it’s leeching off the dead creature within it. It’s small, compared to Fenrir.”
“Oh.” Finally understanding why Gleipnir had the kind of cocky swagger he did in every aspect of his personality, Alex’s eyes and mouth had formed round ‘ohs’ of understanding long before the word had escaped on a breathy sigh.
“Yeah.” Sam grimaced, getting their attention. “We’ve found the calvary.” It wasn’t said with sarcasm, but it did take on another meaning now that Alex understood that all those mages barricading the street with their vehicles and flashing lights weren’t super necessary or doing anything particularly helpful.
“This is your stop, new kid. Hop on out.”
CHAPTER 42
1:00 PM September 13th 2026
Street that the New York Preparatory Academy is on.
Jones was catching his breath after he and Kyle had cut a swath through a literal horde of monsters. Big monsters, too. Made from fucking vehicles. Like cars and SUV’s and shit.
And it had been easy. Really easy. Way too easy.
Why had that been so easy?
Sure, it was class one and class two monsters, but that didn’t explain how easily they’d massacred monsters made of actual living metal. But behind them, all the manifestations were dead. Their carcasses already losing its false matter to arcane sublimation as it evaporated away. They stank, the organic components rotting faster with the high ambient magic of the area.
He’d never seen someone wielding magic like the apprentice warlock of the archivist just had. Not even the kid’s famous mother could bend magic to her very will like that. Was it even legal for a non-enlisted mage to wield magic like that?
Nausea roiled in Jones’ guts as he realized that he may now have a new phobia of the stereotypical academic librarian looking kind of guys. The reason behind that being the fact that Kyle was the least impressive looking person one might ever meet. He was just average in every aspect of his looks. From his height to his hair, to his personality, to his general attractiveness, even his intellect and normal magical ability was exceedingly average. How had this unstoppable mad man switched places with the affable, cautious, young nerd who worked in a museum?
Taking a quick sip of water from a canteen, Jones wondered, yet again, if the new rumors were true about Kyle. Because as he surreptitiously watched his charge from the corner of his eyes, Kyle looked like maybe…just maybe…he knew what he was doing. Cold flinty hardness had overtaken his gaze, replacing the spark of friendly humor. It drew attention to the keen intellect that must have always been hiding there.
Scanning the street for more immediate threats, Kyle stood guard as Jones rested. Finally ready to proceed again, Jones replaced the cap on his canteen and stored it on the bottom of the bandolier it had come on. An odd place for a canteen, but it was museum issue gear. Only once Jones had taken over watching for threats did Kyle take the time to relax and have a drink himself. It was fast. Efficient.
Kyle wasn’t wasting time.
With a silent nod to each other, the pair left the shade and shelter of the building they’d stopped in. Returning to the center of the street, the pair began walking at a quick pace toward the school. Most of the remaining monsters were there and they were not happy. Luckily, those monsters had yet to notice Kyle the two
men coming up the street behind them.
At first, Jones had been puzzled by the lack of response from the larger horde as he and Kyle were cutting, eviscerating, and alchemy shotgun shelling their way loudly, very loudly, through the monsters gathered near the blockade. But as the pair of men drew closer to their goal, the specialist realized that the monsters were fixated on the school and a wall of ice that they were frantically trying to dig their way through.
To the tasty morsels of people within the ice encased building.
Because it was ice encased. What seemed like a vertical wall of ice, was met at the roofline by a flattish dome that encompassed the entire building. Monsters of various sizes – most in the sedan to sport utility vehicle range – surrounded the abstract bubble of ice.
“I see Anna’s been holding the line.” It was the first thing Kyle had said, growled really, since they’d started fighting. Monster fluids had stuck his pants to his legs up to the knee and he kept trying to shake the clinging fabric away from his skin. Guts and shattered windshield bits splattered his chest up the side of his neck where a blood vessel throbbed angrily. This was the first time that Kyle had a bit of a facial tick when he clenched his teeth that way. “Those fucking bastards couldn’t even evacuate all the kids.”
“She did that on her own?” Jones was… yeah… that was impressive. A kid doing that kind of magic? That was pretty damned good.
“Yeah.” Kyle wiped his sweaty face on his shoulder then spat as he got monster muck smeared across his lips. “Bah.’
“The entire building?” It was not long after midday and the sun was angling down between he taller buildings around them so Jones was shading his eyes with one hand to see better.
“Probably.” The apprentice warlock sucked his teeth a bit before spitting again as he continued forward determinedly. His head swiveled from side to side looking for threats from the damaged lower floors of the buildings. Within the buildings, the higher floors were quiet.
“How do you know it’s all her?” Yes. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut. But the question had popped out unbidden. Also, if they drew a monster out of a building, it was one less monster the survivors hiding inside wouldn’t have to deal with.
There were survivors. There had to be. Evidence of magical battles and residents or employees fleeing were everywhere. Bridges of vines from someone who worked plant magic were retracting slowly from a third story window. A flare of light went off two blocks ahead of them where the next concentration of
monsters started.
“I recognize my sister’s magic. There’s – ” Here Kyle paused as if he wasn’t sure how to describe what he meant so the warlock’s next works surprised Jones immensely, “…I’m not sure if I should tell you if you don’t already know. But magic, has a… flavor. Which most people know. But there’s a nuance to different sources. Not just fire or ice, but if you’re familiar with a person’s magic, you can tell when a spell or magic comes from them. That’s Anna’s ice. I can taste it in the air.”
“Oh.” When he put it that way, it made sense to Jones. “Like the way the weather changes before snow? Or old people with old injuries who can feel the rain coming?”
“Something like that.” A rueful smile played at Kyle’s lips as he chuckled darkly. But the focus of his gaze never left the dome of ice they were approaching, nor the mass of monsters spread across the no longer pristine green lawn of the school. Their lunging, lumping gaits had torn chunks out of the turf and huge gashes of bare soil marred the landscape. He slowed as they neared the next corner, holding up a hand to indicate he wanted to stop.
Jones heard it too. More clumping and lumping of partially transformed monster manifestations hunting awkwardly on their rubber paws. A small herd that seemed to have made it through whatever barricade that should have been here as they sounded too far away to just be harassing the local swat. The were returning though. The crunching of pavement and the squealing of metal on metal as their organic monster parts integrated with their non-organic immovable parts.
In front and among there were dozens and dozens of smaller, extremely vicious little monsters. They were boxy, kind of like whatever they had been manifested out of had been rectangular blocks with pointed tops. Leaking a white fluid from their whitish bodies as they went, these smaller monsters were agile, leaping from the ground to ride other monsters, or darting into buildings with their nimble little legs gnashing wide mouths that almost split them vertically.
“What in the hell are those? Is that milk? Are those milk cartons? And milk jugs?” Following the little swarm, Jones realized that the building they had been going into and coming out from was a grocery store. “Milk jug monsters. Well, I never.”
Kyle’s shoulders slumped like a kid who’d just been told he had to do his homework before he could go out and play.
“Ugh! We don’t have time for this. Jones. Can you buy me ten seconds. I need to do something stupid.”
CHAPTER 43
“Yes, sir.” Jones was already agreeing before his brain registered the ‘stupid’ part of that request. He thought that what they were doing, waging a two-man campaign against monsters that way outclassed them was stupid. So, he was having trouble imagining what could possibly make their already deranged lack of a plan even stupider.
But whatever.
Jones reloaded his weapon with more alchemical ammunition and started taking even, measured, unhurried shots at the fast evil little milk jug buggers that were hurrying toward them. Peripherally, he was aware of Kyle doing things. His book was still balanced on one hand and Kyle held another over it before giving a command.
“Archive query.” The book glowed and its open pages seemed to lift slightly as if in anticipation of his next request. “Retrieve spell.” The pages lifted higher and began thrumming. “Battle Armor – Saint of Warriors, Armor of God’s General. Replicate.” The pages flipped frantically through the book until opening on what Jones could only assume was the page that the spell was referenced on.
Wait a second? Wasn’t that the name of a certain famous warlock’s armor? That was a spell granted to another warlock by their patron. You couldn’t just learn a patron granted spell, could you? Maybe that’s why Kyle thought it was a stupid idea. He was clearly hesitating, unsure whether or not he should continue with the spell. Jones was about to speak up when –
“Oh. Shit!” One of the little meat jugs, that’s what he was calling them because the milk jug manifestations had already turned almost completely organic having been mostly organic to begin with, had made it close enough to bite him on the knee. “Mother fucker.” A swift kick had it exploding into a pink spray of…sludgy meat. He tried once again.
“Kyle, I don’t – ” The young warlock had steeled his nerves in that moment that Jones was distracted and his words didn’t come fast enough.
“Configure, Replicate, Activate!” They’d been said with such finality, as if Kyle had been expecting something to go horribly wrong. And for a few moments, nothing happened. With a shrug, Jones returned his full attention to the cartons of meat and the larger monsters that were shepherding them. Because those were some big MFers.
However, behind Jones and to the side, Kyle’s book flared brightly, and a rising sound of trumpets began. Brilliant golden light shone from Kyle’s location and Jones chanced a glace over at the young man. Sure enough, there in the center of the light, armor was forming over the grinning warlock.
Where Camina Wattkins’ armor was white and gold, this armor was different.
Anywhere that Camina’s armor was white, this shone a gleaming midnight black with metallic blue accents where the original had gold. While it had the same general outline as the armor famously worn by Camina and her patron the Archangel Michael, this armor was decidedly in Kyle’s style.
“Fuck yeah!” Kyle screamed and pumped a fist before it was jerked out by an invisible force and a gauntlet formed over it. “It worked. It worked. Ahhhh…” The triumphant shout ended with a gurgled horrified scream.
Whirling, Jones was faced with Kyle, swarmed by more meat jugs that had somehow snuck the fuck around his guard through the corner building they were beside. A stream of the little fuckers was flooding out of a door behind them and had attacked Kyle from behind as his transformation was finishing.
A gauntleted hand reached up and tore the creatures off Kyle’s face and head before a helmet flashed into place. The floating segments of his wings started flexing and shaking off the mini monsters clambering on them before they became charged with electricity. Sparks traveled between the wing segments as they started floating away from the suit in a very unwing-like fashion. Then they became an electrified blender of death.
There were squeals, popping explosions like water balloons impacting on something, and a fine pink mist with larger white chunks floated away from Kyle as the whirring sound died. His wings returned to their normal position, flexing in the way a bird’s might when they were anxious. Jones stared dumbfounded.
“Well alright then.” Then he grinned and chuckled a little because Kyle had forgotten to close the faceplate of his helmet first. Absolute disgust was written all over the warlock’s face as he tried to spit out the pink mist of monster parts which had covered his entire head. The armor, of course, was somehow spotless.
Which was even funnier.
“Note to self.” Kyle called out to Jones. “Close the faceplate first. Yeah.” After a quick second of thought, he added with a concerned voice, “Where’d my Codex go?” He looked over the ground near his feet, turning in a circle as he went.
“Locate Codex.” Faint chiming started in response to Kyle’s call.
The chiming was coming from the suit and after a few befuddled seconds of patting himself down, he located the book in a pocket-slash-drawer on the exterior of the suit in the general area where his concealed carry magic book holster had been. Pressing on the location with one of his gauntleted hands caused the compartment to open.
“Nioce!” He exclaimed. Breathing a visible sigh of relief, Kyle closed the compartment again with a grin. “Oh. Behind you, Jones.” Jones spun on his heel at the warning just in time to dodge the surprisingly quiet larger monster that had been sneaking up on him along with several others.
‘Crap!” Jumping out of the way, he stabbed a monster through the side with the bayonet on the end of his rifle. Screams came from the creature as flames erupted from the weapon plunged into it. A quick pull of the trigger blew Jones backward off the beast as the alchemical charges in the rounds sent him flying backward into a brick wall.
“Jones, I got this.” Kyle called out then then took off flying at the group of larger monsters. His wand flared up with a larger electric blade than before and he began dodging and weaving among the larger manifestation, slashing and stabbing at them as he went. Shrieks and screams gurgling into silence drew the attention of observers.
CHAPTER 44
Kyle started moving with more force than necessary. His armored boots crunched into the pavement where he kicked off leaving twin overlapping miniature craters in the asphalt. That was the least of his worries. Jones made a decent showing of it popping little milk cartons of goo while the nerdy museum kid he was supposed to be protecting went on a haphazard manic killing spree of destruction.
That first shove off from his powered armor had sent Kyle careening past his intended target, an SUV sized class two manifestation that was quickly growing in size and organic content making it well on its way to becoming class three. Arms windmilling wildly, the warlock of the archivist caught his balance and leveled the lightning bolt he was using as a sword.
He charged at the creature on foot, each heavy boot clanging metallically. After a brief run up to speed, Kyle tried using his flight again. Unable to fully control his movements, the mech-suited figure zipped past his target again, but with more control this time. It was only his ability to control the length and force of his lightning sword that allowed him to slash the monster nearly in half as he skidded past.
“All right!” Pumping a fist in exaltation, Kyle adapted to his lack of control over flying and instead used a combination of hovering and short powerful sprints to dash from one large manifestation to another. Jones followed Kyle as they cut a swath of gore up the street. Kyle was leading in his nigh indestructible armor. Meanwhile Jones brought up the rear with a wand in one hand and his enchanted bayonet in the other, a semi-automatic rifle that shot alchemy bullets, and a bandolier full of the best damned magical charges a mage could ever hope for.
He was pretty sure that he was hearing muted cheering drifting down from the windows of the buildings above. It was difficult to be certain over the loud snarling attacks and pained roars of monsters. But in the occasional lulls where the melee was less loud, it did seem like maybe, maybe the occasional screams of pain and horror from inside the buildings lining that street were more like cries of joy. At least, that’s what he was telling his conscious.
The school had to come first.
It wasn’t shielded like it should have been and anything inside the building could turn at any moment. Everyone else in proper buildings could wait. They had to wait. The kids came first.
No.
Anna came first.
Kyle was only here for Anna.
And Jones was only here for Kyle.
Those were his orders.
Then he looked up, up to the sounds that he couldn’t block out of his head. And there he saw them, people. Leaning over the balconies of apartments screaming encouragement, or pressed against the windows of offices, restaurants, or shops and waving wildly. One idiot decided that they’d cleared enough monsters from their part of the street and actually dropped down from a second-floor fire escape while other young men of about the same teenage shouted at him.
Encouragement? Admonishments? Jones couldn’t tell.
Said idiot stumbled as he landed, twisting his ankle. Jones had to fire a shot over the kid’s head as one of those little milk jug bastards tried to eat said head. The boy lost the ball cap he’d been wearing revealing a head full of sandy blonde curls. He stood, favoring the twisted ankle. Yep, it was definitely hurt. Not enough to keep him from trotting around carcasses and over slippery guts to a point in the street with a good view.
That little shithead snapped selfies with Kyle and Jones killing things in the background. Then he took a couple more actions shots of the pair as Jones shook his head in disgust before the teen limped hurriedly back into the building from which he’d come. His friends were screaming kudos about how big his balls were and what a boss he was. Jones started to shake his head –
Well, shit. He thought to himself. I wouldn’t have the cajónes to come out on this street with nothing but a smart phone. After a few seconds of continued mop-up of monsters, he went back around to his original thought on the subject, which was… Of course, I’m not an idiot.
Jones hadn’t been watching how close they were to the school. After a particularly vicious one-on-one with a manifest that had to have once been a limousine, he found that he’d run out of adversaries and finally glanced further around. That had been sloppy. He needed to pay more attention. Especially to Kyle, who was the whole reason he was here.
Kyle was standing still. Helmet visor open, head tilted back, he gazed up at a monster that was nearly three stories tall. Three stories and focused entirely on the dome of ice it was trying to gnaw its way through. It alternated between trying to chew its way through the ice and beating on it with earth shaking brutality. After a few attacks, it would get winded and as it caught its breath, the monster’s bright headlight gaze focused on something directly beneath it in the ice dome.
Jones watched his charge’s face harden with understanding. Jaw tight, fists clenched, teeth grinding with rage, Kyle’s eyes followed where the monster was looking. The Magicorps soldier didn’t have to look to know, but he did anyways, found Kyle’s sister facing the beast defiantly. Though the dome of ice had seemed as if it was mostly opaque from a distance, it appeared mostly transparent up close. They could see a white-haired teen in her private school uniform. Brown eyes wide with terror and leaking tears never wavered as she fed every ounce of magic she could to reinforce the shield of ice between her and the monster.
Dozens of students huddled around her as behind them, inside the protective shield, the teachers and security fought smaller monsters encroaching on their rear. Monsters that must have gotten into the building before she put the shield up. Or more likely, they had manifested inside the building afterward.
“Look at her.” Jones breathed wondrously. Because it was a wonder to see magic so pure and powerful without the taint of a patron or the confines of a spell.
“That’s amazing. She’s holding off a class… what do you think that is?” Jones turned to Kyle briefly before looking back and forth to the power struggle between the fixated monster and the… “I want to say it’s a class three but it’s gotta be at least a class four manifestation.” It was the kind of power that every mage longed for.
“I’m coming, Snow Cone.” Kyle’s words were growled low, almost breathy, and his tone of voice snapped Jones’ attention back to his ward.
The click of Kyle’s visor closing in preparation for battle was deafening to Jones. Kyle might as well have been bellowing a challenge to the twisted amalgamation of matter, magic, and life before them. Because that’s what it meant. Play time was over. It was time to go to war.
CHAPTER 45
1:15 PM September 13th 2026
The Ice Bubble outside New York Preparatory Academy
The now clearly class four monster had lost all resemblance to whatever it had manifested from. Nearly completely organic, only the tough metallic segmented hide hinted as to its possible vehicular origins. The thing resembled a giant millipede now. Four clusters of too many legs to count lined its body. The eyes were bright glowing orbs that flashed off and on in time with its attacks on the ice shield, as if it was blinking to protect its vision of the shards that it sheared off the dome.
The first two clusters of legs lifted up every time the millipede, as big around as a bus, reared up. Then the dozens of limbs came down on the cracking and weakening shield pummeling away as much of the ice as possible. Each blow was backed by the weigh of its massive upper body. End to end, it could have stretched the entire three block gauntlet that Kyle and Jones had just fought their way through.
Somehow, Anna was holding off the mass of about a block and a half of a New York City Street. But she wasn’t enough. And the monster could tell it was going to win that fight eventually if nothing changed. There was an evil gleam of delighted anticipation about it, as if it was already imagining the taste of those refugees.
Why it was so determined to breach the school’s defenses when there were so many easier to reach people in the surrounding buildings, Jones didn’t know. Before he could say anything to deter him, or even just confer about their plan of attack, Kyle took off. Once again, the force of his launch into flight cratered the ground around his boot prints.
This was no semi-controlled skimming of the street like his previous careful attempts at flight had been. No. This was a full-on flight. Like a missile, the armored warlock shot straight for a point in the center mass of the monster. Unerring and determined, he pulled his course up just barely at the last moment before impacting.
In a maneuver that he couldn’t possibly have ever practiced before, Kyle flipped around and shoved the blazing arc of his lightning wand-sword into a junction of the overlapping steel plate segments on the monster’s body. A high, multi-voiced scream came from the monster’s head as it whipped towards the searing pain that an angry big brother was dishing out. It was fast.
Faster than Kyle had anticipated.
In a flash, and distressingly soon after the start of the battle, Kyle found himself caught between the crushing mandibles of the monster. Sizzling and popping, the monster’s venom ate away at Kyle’s protective shell everywhere it splattered on him as the enraged monster shook him like a dog shaking a toy it was having a particularly great time destroying.
“Ha, ha. This is not good.” Kyle coughed, immediately regretting the loss of space in his deflating lungs. How to get out of this little pickle? How to get out of this? He didn’t know. Being shaken was making it a bit hard to think. And Kyle was more of a reader than a fighter. An eater, really, if he was honest about it.
The monster finally stopped shaking Kyle. While the creature worried him in its jaws, Kyle had a moment to think. His eyes focused on Jones down below him. Not nearly as far down as Kyle had thought he was. The soldier hadn’t cut and run like Kyle half expected him too.
Instead, he was charging. His yellow Magicorps beret a bright beacon of hope to those who saw it. Mainly Kyle. Sporadic bursts of precisely aimed alchemy ammunition were wreaking carnage on the millipede legs supporting the behemoth. But it wasn’t enough. Not for as many legs as this creature had. Jones would run out of ammo long before this beast ran out of legs.
Still, he fired. Alternating between the semi-automatic and his wand, the soldier ran straight up onto a group of legs, tossed something under it, then dashed away hastily. A flash followed soon afterward and as Kyle’s dazed eyes cleared, he saw that it had been one of the alchemy grenades he’d given to Jones.
If only there was a way to disable all those legs at once.
Also…
What was he doing?
Why was he just laying here limply, while Jones did all that fighting? Why was Jones fighting? He should have just left the dangerous big monster to Kyle? Jones was going to have all those other smaller monsters on him any minute now because his attacks on the class four monster that Kyle had run off halfcocked to fight without any kind of plan, had drawn a lot of attention to the soldier.
Oh. Kyle shook his head and felt it pounding angrily. His vision swam and he almost blacked out. That was not good.
“Okay. Don’t do that.” He admonished himself, feeling a trickle of something running down his face to dribble against his lips. Licking them, he tasted blood.
He needed to get free, but even in the armor, he wasn’t strong enough to just force his way out of this predicament. When he struggled, the monster just bit down harder. Which he definitely didn’t want it to do because it sent a stabbing pain into the right side of his chest and made breathing infinitely less pleasant.
“Fine,” he grouched in his semi-delirious state. “We’ll do it the slow way.” Gradually Kyle slipped one of his arms out of the monster’s tight grip. It was tricky. The thing didn’t want to let him go. But it didn’t seem particularly invested in trying to open up its chew toy just yet. It was just slowly letting its venom-acid-saliva burn its way through Kyle’s armor as it gnawed Kyle between its mandibles.
Every time the mandibles would loosen, Kyle moved his arm a little more. He was only able to move the one arm, the other being too firmly stuck in place. That was fine. He could do this. The lightning sword he’d been using had gone out. Which was good, otherwise he might have electrocuted himself.
While he carefully wiggled his way to freedom, Kyle started calling the ambient magic to himself again. He’d been careless shoving himself into this fight the way he had. This was the Armor of God’s General… with fucking tornado razor wings that he was pretty sure the original didn’t have. And he’d wasted that by letting his fear for his sister and his anger at this creature that was after her get the better of him.
So, he gathered magic. More than enough magic. So much magic it might make a person sick if they tried to hold it all for a working. But that wasn’t what Kyle was doing. He was channeling every subatomic particle of it into his wand in preparation of an instant release spell. Finally, after a few more chews, the warlock was able to point his wand into the soft organic interior of the monster’s gullet. Triumphantly, he gave a hoarse whisper to trigger the spell he knew would do the trick.
“Fireball.” It was quite possibly the largest fireball that Kyle had ever seen. Certainly, it was the largest he’d ever cast. Added to the fact that the monster’s acid-venom was flammable, it gave a most spectacular sight for those watching. An enormous gout of fire plumed out of the monster’s face, and Kyle in his armor along with it.
He shot in an uncontrolled arc, wobbling in the air for several meters before he’d regained control of his attitude and altitude. Swinging himself around as fast as he dared as he was still at risk of blacking out if he moved too quickly, Kyle prepared the next stage of his assault. Because, the Warlock of the Archivist had a plan now.
The legs were the problem. The legs had always been the problem. Get rid of the legs and what could that thing do? It couldn’t run, it couldn’t fight. It would only be able to thrash wildly and try its damnedest to spit on its attackers. And Kyle was pretty sure that it couldn’t spit very far.
“Archive Query.” He commanded, knowing that his pact item was safely with him and would heed his call. “Retrieve spell. Snare of Arachne. Activate.” Lines of magical light poured from Kyle as he fed the spell with more ambient magic.
The lines flowed together into an intricate web, ensnaring and tangling the dozens of monster legs flailing against it.
Soon the gigantic monster was fully cocooned and immobilized by layers of magically entwined cords. Cords that Kyle held the ends to in one large mechanically armored fist. So restrained, Kyle found the creature a bit pitiful. It whimpered evil wheezing hisses at him with sad headlight eyes. Yeah. This had definitely been some kind of vehicle at some point.
He didn’t want to kill it. It was a living thing. Kyle didn’t even really like killing bugs. Though he might never think a millipede was cute ever again after this.
However, he knew he couldn’t leave it tied up for someone else to deal with. That wasn’t how the spell worked.
It was now or never.
Below him, Jones was inundated with smaller, but still very large monster problems of his own. In the ice shield dome, Anna was running out of time. So, while Kyle wanted to give himself several minutes to come to terms with the reality of the fact that he was about to kill a living creature – even if it was just another monster, and even if he’d already murdered dozens of the things that day – he couldn’t give himself time to think about it.
None of the other monsters had been restrained. They had a fair chance at a fight when he’d killed them even if his intelligence, magic, and equipment had made the match unfair. Could he kill a thing that was not currently a danger to him in cold blood? It looked up at him with what almost seemed like pleading in its eyes.
None of the other monsters he’d killed had anything that seemed like real sentience or life in them. They’d just been mindless things devouring life and magic. They hadn’t really seemed to know what they were, or care about anything other than the moment they existed in. This one seemed to know. It knew it was about to die.
“I don’t have time to feel sorry for you or think about the morality of what I’m doing. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. The finishing blow was not one that should be used lightly. Nor was it one that he could have used in any other circumstance. He adjusted the ties in his hands and fed more magic into them covering the face of the struggling creature.
Sensing the end was near, it struggled more, so Kyle directed the snare to tie itself to the ground and prevent too much movement. Sighing, he let his shoulders sag.
“Archive query. Retrieve spell. The Curse of those who Witnessed the Curse of Sodom and Gomorrah.” The struggling stopped and the shrouded form of the millipede became less defined. Kyle dropped the magical ropes holding the Snare of Arachne, then he turned away. There was no reason to make sure, Kyle knew it was done.
Instead, he cleaned up the monsters harassing Jones, once again relying on his whirlwind bladed wings to blender up the manageable sized monsters surrounding the dome and providing Anna with a route to safety once she opened a spot in the shield.
CHAPTER 46
1:30 PM September 13th, 2026
Inside the New York Preparatory Academy Ice Bubble
Oh, the Gods! That wasn’t Camina Wattkins. Camina’s armor was white. And clearly female. Like, it left nothing to the imagination. Sara’s mother always told her that it wasn’t classy. Even if her own clothes were far more revealing than a mech battle suit.
It was the principle of the thing. You know? You didn’t dress to kill in order to actually kill. You dressed to manipulate people and get what you wanted. So, no. Sara was one hundred percent sure that… that was most definitely a dude in that suit. He was sporting a whole different sort of curves.
“Do you know who that is, Anna?” Liam had asked. “He’s wearing armor similar to your mom’s.” Anna squinted at her ice dome, smoothing it further with a wave of her hand to see more clearly through it.
“I… I…don’t know.” She finally answered. “It’s not Uncle Michael.” Sara gave a snooty shrug from where she stood eavesdropping and rolled her eyes. Calling an archangel ‘uncle’? Show off. “Michael’s armor is different.”
Ugh. Liam Ecclestone, the guy who claimed she didn’t even know, well he’d been hanging very close to her ever since they ran out of the darkened hallway together. Soooo…
Sara clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth making an annoyed tisking sound. Yeah right, Anna wasn’t interested in Liam at all. The cheerleader’s eyes rolled as she tucked a lock of hair behind one ear and smiled at her unknown hero while he mopped up the monsters outside. That white-haired frosty bitch could have Liam. Sara had just wanted him because he was the cutest and the richest guy in school.
But a guy who killed monsters in a giant mech suit? That was. Yeah. He’d taken out that monster so fast. Stupid Anna couldn’t do that. Even if she did manage to create an ice shield.
Grinning, Sara giggled as she watched the mysterious hero working. Then covered her mouth. The distracted girl didn’t even notice her fellow cheerleader standing next to her give her an astounded and disbelieving side-eye.
While Sara wasn’t the only person cheering for the pair that was coming to rescue them, she was the only one who had made fan-girl giggles while the still trapped between the wall of an ice dome and a group of monsters. It was fine. It was all good. Mystery hero was going to save them.
After the big monster was dead, and the smaller monsters outside had been killed or driven off, then the guy in the suit came up to the dome and opened his helmet. He was… so… cute. Not cute-cute, but normal cute. Sara did a little happy dance. He didn’t look that much older than the teens huddled together either. Yeay.
This was nice. Maybe, maybe she’d get to talk to him? Thank him for saving her? Things were looking up if Anna would hurry up and let the armored guy in so he could finish off the monsters that the trapped warlocks and security guards inside were currently fighting behind the students.
Things were going well indeed. Until that freak Anna Wattkins let out a shout of delight as she got a good look at their savior on the other side of the, admittedly, easy to see through ice.
“Kyle?!” Sara’s head jerked over at the pale haired girl. Jumping for joy she waved her arms to open a door in the ice. “He came. He’s okay.” Bouncing and beaming, the freak grabbed Liam’s hands excitedly. “Yeay!”
Oh. Look at that. Poor Liam looked just as disappointed as Sara to see that Anna knew their rescuer. Which actually cheered Sara up a bit. Now he got to see how it felt. With a self-satisfied smile, the blonde smoothed her hair and straightened her uniform. Twirling a lock of smooth unfrazzled hair around one finger, she shrugged happily that everything was going to turn out okay.
And she probably wouldn’t have to come to school again for a while.
Except for cheer practice. That couldn’t be canceled. There were competitions to prep for.
“Who’s Kyle?” Liam’s question went unanswered as Anna dropped his hands and sprint-hopped happily to the armored man chanting.
“You’re here. You came. You’re okay. Hooray.” Flinging herself into his arms, her voice almost broke on a sob, that she quickly stifled.
“Hey. When my sister calls, I’m going to show up.” His brown hair glinted with sun bleached highlights in the bright sunlight coming through the opening in the glass. It matched the gold accents of his armor. Anna was still hugging him tightly and he gently pulled her arms off him.
“I gotta go help your teachers.” He explained when she tried to tighten her grip. It was so… didn’t she care what her classmates were going to think? She was being so emotional. Like…ugh. Nobody else knew if their families were okay and they weren’t crying. Okay, well the boarding students knew. But… “I promise, I’ll be right back.”
He smiled, and Sara kind of sighed as she felt her heart flutter a little bit. He was such a good brother. Then he was off, a swirling whirlwind of blades and tightly controlled magical spells. While the freed-up school staff were organizing the students to follow the yellow-bereted Magicorps soldier who was covering the exit from the ice dome.
Some of the students had wanted to stay and watch the creatures that had terrorized them though the halls get demolished by the badass who was apparently Anna Wattkins’ brother.
“Dude…why’d the papers claim he was a cook?” An eyebrow rose on Sara’s face. Interesting?
“What do you mean?” She asked the no-longer-hot Liam as she fell into line, letting the teachers calling for an orderly evacuation as if they hadn’t just been shitting themselves seconds ago corral her out the opening of the ice dome with her fellow student.
“That article about Anna’s family this morning. It said that her brother Kyle was a cook.” Gesturing at the clearly skilled spellcaster who was absolutely wrecking the remnants of the monster horde on the second-floor cafeteria. “Does that look like a cook to you?” Sara wasn’t the only one who paused and turned as Kyle Wattkins bathed the shattered roofless room in a wash of magical light from one of his attacks.
“Maybe he’s called The Cook because with all that firepower he’s able to bring the heat!” Someone enthused before giving a cheering hoot. “WOOT! GO KYLE! BRING THE HEAT!” Then shaking his head with a grin, he turned and walked out into the open air and dis-a-fucking-peared.
“What the hell just happened?” Sara stopped dead when – What was that kid’s name again? – dropped out of sight.
“It’s fine.” An almost bored sounding voice came from beside the door in the dome. Searching for the owner, Sara found an exhausted looking Anna. For the first time ever, the other girl’s enviously tan skin was pale enough that she almost seemed to match her hair. Not like legit pale, she was still tan. But she had a pallor to her. “I had to make a slide for us to get down so no one would get hurt. Ice, stairs, and warm sunny days don’t mix well.”
“Oh.” Straightening and trying to hide her moment of sudden panic, Sara squared her shoulders. “That’s fine then.” She sat and immediately regretted the chilly wetness that soaked through her skirt as she tightened it around her knees. Taking a deep breath, she kicked off and started her slide to the grassy field below.
CHAPTER 47
12:30PM September 13th 2026
Manhattan North International Airport, New York, NY
Jim’s legs had almost given out when Camina first set him down. It was Sheer adrenaline alone that kept him standing. The rush. His heart was jackhammering in his chest so loud he was certain that every monster on the island could probably hear it. But that woman didn’t make a big deal out of it. She didn’t call attention to how green he was at this.
When she realized he wasn’t following her over to the edge of the rooftop because he was scared shitless, Camina had just given him a kind, mothering smile and encouraged him to follow her with a nod in the direction that sounds of destruction and horror were coming from. There were screams. So many screams under the sound of crumbling concrete and the screeching of metal tearing apart. Glass crunching.
The screams were quiet compared to the angry roars of the monster.
Camina got down on all fours and crawled to the low wall that lined the edge of the rooftop they were on. Summoning his courage, Jim followed with his camera recording. The gravel and debris bit into his elbows despite the reinforced patches on his jacket. And his armpits chaffed as he tried to keep the camera steady through his crawl. This. Was. Not. Fun.
The midday sun was beating down on his back while rivers of sweat were saturating his shirt. Scorching heat rose up from the tacky tarred roof that he stuck to, just a little bit, with each forward motion. Hot, rich, and volatilely resinous, the scent of tar filled his senses until there was no room for any other sensation during the long tedious crawl toward danger. Or at least he thought it had, until he inched his head slowly up to see over the wall and got smacked in the face by the updraft off the tarmac.
Dry air clogged his throat and left the young journalist gasping for air while trying to stifle his body’s autonomic desire to cough. Smothering his mouth against an arm, Jim convulsed with his silent struggle. When his tearing vision cleared after a few blinks, he was staring at a canteen or a water bottle mere inches from his face held in Camina’s outstretched hand.
Yep. Now she knows you’re an amateur, stupid. The disappointed thought popped into his head. Didn’t think to bring anything but my camera gear.
The woman didn’t say anything. She wasn’t even looking at him. Those eyes of her’s were focused on the thing that really mattered. Not some kid wannabe reporter catching his breath, but on the people who genuinely needed her help. Jim took the vessel and drank, quickly. Opening, sipping, and closing the lid took only moment before he placed it back in the waiting hand that closed reflexively around it.
She didn’t even have to look to return it to where it belonged as it disappeared smoothly into a clip on her white and gold armor. Feeling less dizzy and back to himself, Jim Thafesh made a second attempt to do the job he was here to do. Taking slow careful breaths, Jim peeked his head up above wall he was behind…
…and wished he had stayed on the plane.
It was huge. The monster looked like it used to be a plane. A big one. It had sprouted small hindlegs, mostly walking on its wings like a wyvern, and the glass of the cockpit window was gone. The behemoth had a jaw that opened wide low on what had been the nose, filled with sharp jagged metal teeth. Eyes were located to either side of that.
The clawed wings were burrowing into one of the terminals across the way from the building they were located on top of. Short sharp retorts from the weapons of security guards rang out. Shooting was futile, but they were trying anyways. Bright flashes from wand thrown spells spilled around the contours of the metal horror.
Holding up the camera strapped to his hand so he could zoom through the lens, Jim was astounded to see what looked like a few regular civilian passengers standing side by side with the airport security. A valiant last stand while those without magic fled deeper into the maze of corridors in the terminal.
“There’s civilians working along side TSA agents and airport security trying to hold off the class four monster attacking North Manhattan airport.” He began narrating quietly into the mic for the benefit of anyone who might watch later.
“None of those spells are a high enough level to do any damage to a class four monster.” Camina commented beside him.
“Do you think that they waited too long to try taking it out instead of destroying it while it was a lower class?” Jim cleared his throat trying to sound more professional for the recording as he swung the camera around to focus on her, The Valkyrie still had her faceplate open and she never bothered to look at him as she shook her head in denial.
“No. Look…” One gauntleted hand pointed down and swept across the loading and unloading area where a cluster of cargo carrying vehicles were strewn about in pieces. Red and pink smears were interspersed among the destruction. “…I think they didn’t have enough time once the transformation had begun. Even if they had, the monster’s skin is still that of a plane. Its mass is even greater now as it fills in with magical organics. They just don’t have enough firepower.”
As she was speaking a rumbling started in the distance. Growing loud quickly, Jim recognized the sound of a jet and turned his camera swiftly to catch it as it flew overhead. There was only one model of plane magically hardened enough to come that low, the ARC-17 Aegis Magically Enhanced fighter. Two more screamed past just as loudly but not faster than mach. A tickle of fear ran through Jim as he briefly wondered if the country had just written off New York and decided to ‘sterilize’ Manhattan from the sky.
“Oh. Look who’s here.” Though her voice was light and calm, the grimace of disgust Jim saw on Camina’s face out of the corner of his eyes said a lot. He was very careful not to get it on camera. “I’ll go take care of this. Those guys are just here for recon.” She stood suddenly and the journalist startled as the woman beside him stepped away to make room for her wings.
“You sure?” God damn it. He’d tried so hard not to say it even as the words were elbowing their way out of his mouth.
“About what? It’s just a class four.” Then Camina’s visor snapped shut and her wings sprung open. She launched herself high enough into the air and turned herself into a blazing comet fired at the monster across the way.
“Holy fucking shit!” The force of her passage knocked Jim from his knees onto his ass but he miraculously managed to keep the camera trained on the rocketing woman as she punched through the monster with a screech of tearing metal. Bellowing the transmogrified jetliner reared up on its tiny hind legs, ichor and hydraulic fluid gushing from the Camina-sized wound in it.
Furious but unhindered, it began searching for the thing that had hurt it. Jim wanted to get a shot of the reactions from the brave mages who had been trying to hold it off, yet he also didn’t want to miss a moment of the fight. He was riveted anyways. Where had Camina gone? She’d gone through the former plane and out the other side. Her passage had left a gushing hole.
She was lost to his sight. A distant cheer let him know that the famous warlock must still be fine and in view of the people she was rescuing. Hoping that Camina was okay, the journalist focused his camera on the monster which was humping its body weirdly. Twisting and hopping from its center as if it couldn’t quite lay down because there was something beneath it. That something was a certain warlock as she lifted the monster over her head and flung it away from the building it had been ravaging with a mighty heave.
It arced through the air hundreds of feet high but still low compared to the size of its body. Landing stunned it momentarily as it cracked the tarmac in a spiderweb tracery that was probably a lot more damage than it looked like from so far away. However, it wasn’t long before the wounded creature began wiggling on its back to right itself.
Focusing his shot back to Camina, Jim was just in time to catch the distant figure in armor spreading its wings. She launched into the air. He was expecting another inferno run but instead she drew her pact item weapon, Ascalon, the dragon-slaying lance of Saint George. A transforming, shapeshifting weapon so powerful, that it could kill dragons.
Dragons, the most magical creatures on the planet. These monsters plaguing the city were nothing compared to the magic contained in a single proper dragon. The lance in her hand thickened as it became a heavy laser rifle. Jim zoomed in, mesmerized. Thank the Gods he had splurged on the good and expensive magically hardened cameras with the best zoom ever.
Camina had never taken the time to darken her faceplate again, so he was able to catch every nuanced micro expression as the woman took aim at her target. The hate and rage she clearly felt drained away as Jim watched. Replacing it was a still kind of calm that he’d never really seen on anyone before. No animosity, just someone so engaged in what they were doing that there was no room for any other thought or feeling. Then, ever so slightly, her eyes narrowed, and that calm was replaced with a vicious teeth baring snarl in the split second instant before her visor darkened.
“Oh shit.” Flinging his free arm up, the hopeful journalist covered his eyes and face just in time before a searing light ruptured existence from the muzzle of the weapon Camina was holding.
The roaring explosion was fast. Wind buffeted him with debris. Then it was quiet, and he looked again hoping against hope that he’d managed to catch that on film. Dust and rocks were falling around the blast site and as it cleared, a hovering figure appeared out of the cloud. It turned and flew over to him, not fast but not slowly either. When she reached him, Camina opened her faceplate and smiled in a bittersweet way.
“Let’s move on to the next one. We’ve got a city to clear.”
CHAPTER 48
“Yeah. About that….” Jim was staring wide-eyed at a small herd of monsters that had appeared behind Camina. Catching the look on his face, she roller her eyes, turned around, and fired off some kind of rapid fire spell that was bright, hot, and destroyed the monster herd in a matter of seconds.
“I told you, there’s lots more to kill.” She shrugged nonchalantly as if it wasn’t that big a deal.
“Will you be going through the airport to clear out any manifestations and find any people who may be trapped?” Even before the sentence had finished coming out of his mouth, Camina’s face froze into a polite and beautiful masking smile.
“Of course, I’ll do that.” Wow, that brilliantly gorgeous smile that the world was so familiar with as one of Camina’s biggest fans, seemed a lot less genuine when you were the one behind the camera. It seemed pained. Very, very pained.
Being the quick-witted camera man and fan of Camina that he was, Jim shifted the camera to the damaged building across the tarmac as soon as he realized the mistake he’d made. She didn’t want to do that. He’d just accidentally committed The Harbinger to a search and rescue operation because if she said ‘no’ now that it had been recorded, it would not be a good look for her.
“Yes. Of course, we’ll do a walk-through of the airport, see if anyone’s trapped and put down any manifestations that might be roaming in there.” As she spoke, Jim focused tightly on the mages who had been defending the terminal unsuccessfully. They were pulling people out of the rubble and trying to fortify the collapsing ceiling.
“We’ll need to be particularly carful, Mr. Thafesh,” Her tone of voice when she said his name felt like a cue, and Jim turned the camera back to her. At that Camina folded her wings and latched her lance into the holder on her back. “…my warlock spells and pact items aren’t suited for close quarters combat, and I might accidentally damage something or hurt someone if I use some of my spells inside.”
OooooOOOoooohhhhhhh! Well shit!
Realizing his error, Jim peeked out around from behind the camera and mouthed the words ‘I’m sorry’ at her. Now he understood his mistake.
“Come along, now.” That bright smile broadened wickedly, and over six feet of magical battle armor stalked toward the journalist. Jim yelped as Camina scooped him up in her gauntleted arms again. Heavy running steps jostled him against the cold metal armor. Until the inevitable powered leap that launched them into the stomach lurching drop to the ground below.
One… two… three… four… Jim opened his eyes which turned into huge saucers of horror at the rapidly approaching terminal building. They were going to smash into the building. So, he braced hard. The smash never happened. But although Camina landed smoothly and the mechanisms in the suit lessened the impact, he knew that was going to bruise.
Then he was down on his own two feet again. Camina was all business as she found an open door with employees waving her into a stairwell. The survivors cheered. It was reedy and thin though and many of them were wounded. And she couldn’t do anything for them.
First aid. That’s as much medical knowledge as she had. Sure, her dad had been a medic back in the day so, she knew a little more terminology than the average soldier. Not a single iota of her warlock magic was based in healing. It was all destruction and shielding. That was it.
“Miss Harbinger.” A young woman, teen really, ran over to her. “Can you fly someone to the hospital? My Gran’s injured.” A girl pointed to where a few travelers were hiding and cowering far away from the large glass front windows of the terminal. ‘Gran’ wasn’t the only injured person there.
Her gaze was dispassionate as she surveyed the injuries. Young, old, male, female, or whatever else they identified as disaster did not discriminate on the basis of gender, age, or ethnicity. Though it probably did have a bit of a bias based on religious beliefs since that was going to be affected by whether or not a deity deigned to answer someone’s prayers.
“I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t really know if that would be the best thing for her.” Camina responded with as much regret as she could put in her voice. “Anyone who is injured enough that they need a hospital may be so gravely injured that they could be killed by the flight.” Explaining this was horrible. It always was.
“I’m somewhere protected inside the suit, but it isn’t very safe for the people I carry.”
“You carried him.” The teen pointed to Jim who wanted to melt into the floor at that point but instead spoke up.
“She did, but I’m all bruised up from being pressed against her armor during flight.” He used one hand to pull the collar of his shirt out of the way and the nasty red mark that was just starting to color the arm.
“I’m sorry, Jim.” The contrite look on Camina’s face was, well it was endearing. Then she turned back to the girl and began looking around. “Point me to whoever’s in charge and I’ll see how I can help.”
“You can help by clearing out monsters and helping us evacuate as many of the injured as possible to hospitals.” A man in a suit called out from where he was bent over an injured security agent. His ID badge dangled from a lanyard around his neck. “I know you can’t carry them, but you can push a bus, can’t you?”
“Why, yes.” Camina’s eyes brightened knowing that she had suitable work to do that would allow her to protect these people. “I can do that.”
“If you take care of the monsters, my people will get the injured organized and loaded.” He patted the security guard who was no longer gasping for breath as a mage with healing abilities treated whatever was wrong with them.
“Then I’ll provide both the motor and the escort for the busses.” She rallied the security guards to her. “Alright, who’s coming with me?” A ragged group of about half the uniformed security personnel formed around her. “Which way first?”
“Clear a route to the loading and unloading area where the busses are.” The one who seemed to be in charge volunteered while gesturing in the appropriate direction with his wand. “Then meet up with the survivors in the other
Terminals. We’ve confirmed injured in nearly every group of survivors.”
“Right. Let’s get going.” The armored figure took the lead and Jim fell back to film the intrepid group of heroes who were going into battle supporting her. Not really supporting her. That was just the way it was going to be spun by the news outlets and the military’s PR people when the footage aired.
CHAPTER 49
Did you know that walking in powered armor is slow, and tedious? Well, it is. Whenever Camina found herself in a situation where she had to ‘work’ with civilians on camera she always found herself fantasizing about giving a truly candid interview. One where she could just tell everyone how it really was.
And no, it was not a good idea. She would never, ever, actually do that.
But God damn it. She hated walking through buildings in her armor. It really wouldn’t have been that bad if not for the trail of airport security following her around like baby ducklings. Obediently, in a line, and so very, very fragile. With no understanding of the danger they were in if she accidentally bumped into one even with the highly controlled movements she was using to limit her suit’s strength.
Familiar yet somehow inordinately annoying at this moment, the suit’s hydraulics whirred rhythmically inside her helmet with each step. Whirrrr-clunk… whirrrr-clunk… whirrrr-clunk… whiiirt? A sound. Even her armor seemed to question what it was.
She’d heard it and sensed a disturbance in the ambient magic levels. Arcanes were swirling around her in current she understood. Around the corner ahead, something was disturbing the flow of the currents by soaking up free arcanes.
Watching it with her eyes and her magical senses, Camina could feel the eddies swirling and interfering with the natural flow of this unnatural quantity of magic. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The unnatural quantity of magic part.
New York had a pretty high natural magic level before the first large scale magic collectors had ben built to bring the AMD down. Certainly not Prometheus Purple all the time, but it had been high enough often enough that the Magicorps, a military branch dedicated to fighting monsters and magic, had been necessary for the nascent United States of America.
Pushing back the vaguely remembered history lesson that was squirreling itself to the forefront of her mind at the most inopportune of times, Camina held up her fist in the gesture telling everyone else to stop. From the muted sounds of bodily collisions behind her, followed by murmured ‘Sorrys’ and hissed ‘shushes, not everyone in the party was aware of what a raised fist on a bent arm meant.
Amateurs! The scoff was internal as her helmet’s external speakers were on, in case she needed to shout warnings or commands. Instead, she indulged in rolling her eyes before twisting her waist to indicate to the civilians that they were to wait there. At least they had caught on that pointing at them and then at the ground by their feet meant for them to bleeping stay put. The first monster she’d come across, one of those idiots had tried to come after her to ‘help’ and had ruined her element of surprise.
That had been a mess. Slow learners some may be, but they were catching on. And Camina was moving quickly. Sure, it felt slow to her because her tall, powered armor gave her longer legs than those not in powered armor. It was slow to her even if everyone else was creeping along in a slow jog.
Stepping around the corner, Camina swiftly located the hostile targets in her heads-up display. The hallway had opened onto a long airy corridor with high ceilings lined with baggage check and ticketing counter, with sporadic self-serve kiosks along the way. It was a decently sized area for an engagement. She’d be able to maneuver her bulky armor around without doing excessive damage.
There were six manifestations. Launching herself at them, she fired up her propulsion and spread her wings for stabilization. Pulling her lance from her back it morphed into a sword suitable for use in her gauntlets and backed by augmented strength. One, sliced in half and spilling ichor from its steal and rubber body. It had been small, possibly a former luggage cart.
Crunching her body to flip into a new trajectory, she focused on number two and three. A self-service kiosk and what had to have been the very last coin-operated pay phone in existence were snarling and snapping at each other as they fought to free themselves from the bolts and electrical infrastructure that tethered them to the floor. Two and three went as she landed in a hard skid between the two.
Tiles and grout sprayed up before her as her weight shattered it in a moving wave.
As she slid between the two her body twirled in a swift double pirouette, her weapon flashing out and severing both in half then freeing their remains from the floor. The movement ended is a graceful bow, like in the dance practices she’d go to as a child before her pact with Michael. A girl had to have fun somehow, and this had not been a fun mission. No. It had not been. That level four had been… nothing. It had been nothing.
Ever since the battle of Ragnarök – which had been disappointing in and of itself with the way it ended – work had been so boring. There were no challenges. Camina never got to really let loose and go all out. It didn’t help that monster classifications weren’t just based on how powerful they might be magically but on their size. So that airplane manifestation had been a four based on size alone even if it had been dumb and not even remotely close to what its final form.
Pushing down with a foot, Camina went for the next manifestation. Her mind wandered to the old children’s rhyme a bit as she did a quick flash sprint up to the beast and ran it through as it lumbered along.
Prometheus Purple do beware,
Monsters, monsters, everywhere.
Rock or metal…,
Humming the tune to herself, she jumped up onto number five’s back. It was a suitcase. Or it had been before the manifestation had begun growing out of control. Stabbing the rollicking creature that was now the size of a horse big enough to ride in her powered armor, Camina rolled expertly with the bucking monster. She was tempted, really tempted, to raise one hand and pretend like she was in a rodeo, but experience had taught her that this would be the one thing those who disliked her would focus on out of everything else she would do that day if it were caught on camera.
…Those cold stones,
Never in a purple home.
Never alive but never dead,
Can’t be eaten by your bed.
Too bad that wasn’t quite true.
It took far more effort than she’d expected to kill the thing. Stuff that didn’t have a clear solid form when it manifested could be weird to get rid of. With a more flexible framework to build upon the manifestation sort of distributed whatever it was that kept it alive to disparate parts and sometimes, she had to completely disassemble it to get it to die like she wanted.
Six now.
Six was across the skywalk to the parking garage. She didn’t strictly need to deal with it. However, Camina grimaced, it was going to be an issue if she ignored it, and they drew its attention while trying to get people out of the building and onto the line of hotel shuttles and tour busses that seemed abandoned in the bus loading and unloading zone.
Snorting and growling, the monster was moving in a very organic way. It was mottled brown and green, and an odd sort of squarish shape. A pelt of flopping green and brown circles hung from cracked gray-brown-green skin. If Camina didn’t know better, she would almost think that it had evolved from…
… a shrub.
One of the kinds that were trimmed into cubic box shapes. A box bush… or whatever the heck they were called. Gardening wasn’t really her thing.
“Oh, hell.” That wasn’t good. While living organic material rarely mutated in Prometheus Purple levels, it was possible. Really high purple might as well be really low pink. And once you’re in the pink, everything stinks. A lewd rhyme most Magicorps soldiers learned in basic to remind them that Prometheus Pink basically equals death if you weren’t protected. Camina had picked it up from her parents, and their friends, and all the soldiers she was around in military school, and her older brother… Okay, fine, Magicorps was steeped into every moment of her life.
With a sigh, Camina checked the seals on her suit and trudged after the last obstacle in her path to leaving the claustrophobic confines of the airport. Once she was out on the street things would be better. A fully organic manifestation was slightly harder to kill even if it wasn’t made of reinforced materials. They were too alive. Too full of muscles and sinews even if their blood and bone weren’t like normal animals. They felt like real animals. Dispatching them felt like killing and butchering real creatures sometimes.
Like now. But she did it quickly.
Then turning in place, she returned across the skybridge leaving a trail of sappy blood footprints. There was Jim. Filming her like he’d promised to do, he’d left the corridor that the others had been instructed to wait in. Behind his camera the youth was beaming that silly excited grin that had first made her afraid that he was a gore groupie. It reminded her of her kids, and she tried not to let that flash of emotion show on her face.
Never be sad in front of the camera. Someone had told her that once. Never show emotions that can be used to make you seem unstable or unsuited for the job. Determination, satisfaction at a job efficiently done, but never sadness or worse yet, any indication that she might actually enjoy her work. Hell, the only spell she’d even used today was the spell to summon her suit.
“We’re all clear.” She spoke loudly through her external speakers- as her helmet was still closed- to let the people who were driving know it was safe to prep the buses. She intended to keep her helmet closed now that she’d seen how high the AMD really was. The magic levels in parts of the city weren’t just Prometheus Purple. They were high Purple. Closer to Pink really and that… that wasn’t good. Jim hurried forward and was about to pass her to get a closeup of the monster remains. “Don’t.”
“But it’s dead right?” Too damned focused on the shot for his own good. Maybe it had been a bad idea to bring him in to this. Camina would never forgive herself if something happened to him.
“The AMD is too high. It’s almost pink over there. That was living plant mutation.” Jim blanched, his face paling terribly at the realization of the danger he’d almost put himself into. “Stay close to me. Not out of my sight. Unless I tell you to run. If I do, then run and don’t look back or stop until you are off Manhattan Island.” She kept her volume low so that the airport security who were closer now couldn’t hear what she was saying. “We’re higher up on the Prometheus Scale than I thought we were. Let’s not panic anyone though, okay?”
Other security staff went back to notify the various pockets of survivors that they had liberated and unified know that it was safe to start bringing injured people forward for loading. Things moved quickly and she watched dispassionately as he first bus was loaded. She gave the warnings to everyone about the parking structure being too dangerous with higher magic levels than the airport building itself.
Camina knew the warnings didn’t matter. There was bound to be someone who didn’t listen to her and would choose to risk getting to their vehicle to leave. They’d found four buses that were parked, intact, fueled, and in drivable condition while being magically hardened enough to function. There was almost a dozen more which hadn’t been hardened but could be put in neutral and she could push them one at a time.
Good. Five was a lucky number, wasn’t it? Once loaded, she waited for the driver in her dead bus to give her a thumbs up out the window. Positioning herself behind the bus she braced her hands, planted her heels firmly into the asphalt of the street, and leaned into the bus with hard even pressure.
Wheels rolled, and a weak cheer came up from inside the vehicle. Those watching, the remaining injured and the uninjured who had helped them to reach this point, also cheered from the loading and unloading curb before the terminal they were leaving from. This was it. They were on their way. Through a city full of monsters which could now be made from anyone or anything living or dead.
Her heart thudded in her chest in a tremulous and unpleasant way. She hated city combat. The damaged vehicles, the desperate wounded people hoping for survival. How many times was she going to be the one saving people from monsters in high magic zones? And would they still be people by the time she reached the hospital?
Luckily, Camina was distracted from her morose descent into depressive memories by a bright moving light moving across the sky. At first, she tensed in her steady trudge behind the bus, thinking that it might be another monster. But no. It… was a chariot? A magical chariot? The chariot of heaven? Michael? Had that silly Archangel broken the rules to come and help her?
No. That was not Michael. Michael did not cackle maniacally like that.
CHAPTER 50
1:15 PM September 13th 2026
Industrial Park District Near the Port of New York
Sam gripped the steering wheel tightly. Palms slippery with sweat, she made sure to keep her grasp secure by occasionally rubbing them dry on the leg of her slacks one at a time. She waited until she had the wheel firmly clasped in her hand before taking the other off. Gleipnir had taken the front passenger seat and was humming In the Hall of the Mountain King to himself softly.
Despite his relative bravado when he spoke to Alex a few moments earlier, once it was just the two of them, his attitude changed somewhat.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to be a little nervous, Gleip?” Though she’d tried to keep her voice neutral, her own apprehension came out as she spoke.
“What?” The pact item exclaimed with the high-pitched screech of someone who is totally lying. “Me? Nervous.” He laughed haughtily. “You must be mistaken?!” His voice ran haltingly through the octaves like the terrible actor he’d always been.
“You are shaking like a chihuahua that’s been approached by a great Dane.” Her dry voice was matched by a wry smile, which quickly faded with worry. “Are you not sure that you can contain this thing?”
“Oh, Sam.” Gleipnir patted her on the knee with the end of his ribbon in a way that she knew he meant to be reassuring but which would have been utterly condescending if anyone else had ever done it. “I’m not worried that I can’t do it.” He sighed, or at least, simulated the sound of a sigh. “I’m worried that you might get hurt in the process. We’ve never fought something this big together. But we got this.”
Her pact item, who was really more friend than anything else, moved his long sword portion as if he were nodding in affirmation. It reassured Sam because she could hear the solemn smile in his voice and she glanced down at him just in time to see him turn toward her. He patted her knee again and she grabbed the tail of his ribbon and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“Yeah.” She scoffed with false bravado. “We gots this.” Then she yanked the steering wheel hard over to the right and skidded to a drifted stop with her door facing the oncoming behemoth. Taking in the towering figure, Sam suddenly found that her mouth was very dry. She pulled out some lip gloss and smacked her lips with a pop to spread it. “Though this is one time I really wouldn’t mind having mom bail me out.”
“Oh, pashaw! Sam. This will take us no time at all.” Gleipnir opened the door and hopped out on the side of the vehicle opposite the monster. Yeah, it really did look like he’d hopped out and his ‘body’ bobbed along around the front of the car as he moved to join her. He opened the door for Samantha bowed with a flourish, “Mi’Lady. Would you care to join me in a dance?”
It made his warlock smile, and that was why Gleipnir had done it.
“Sure, Gleip.” She giggled at his silliness as she clambered out of the vehicle with her wand at the ready and reactivated her most arcane hungry spell to assist her personal magic collector with reducing the dangerous levels of magic around her. “Integumentum infernis. Do we have a plan?” Brilliant flames erupted around Sam.
“Yes.” Gleipnir replied assuredly…. Then he was silent. The monster was not, however, as it realized the prey that had so recently escaped was now returning. It trumpeted angrily, a blast of sound and force that revealed its jagged teeth of twisted broken steel beams.
The crushed and mangled body was still there lodged inside its maw. Even more blood oozed and dripped from the cracked and crumpling concrete walls which were now the beast’s hide.
“Are you going to tell me?” She asked as the lumbering giant broke into it’s version of a run.
“I don’t want to” He admitted with a shout to be heard over the growing thunderous noise.
“What? Why?” Despite being in the middle of facing down a charging monster, Samantha Wattkins took the time to slowly turn her head to her pact item and give him an incredulous wide-eyed stare.
“You aren’t going to like it.” He admitted as the monster’s jaws came for them.
“DODGE!” Samantha had been waiting for the order and she grabbed him and rolled out of the way just in time to avoid being bitten in half by the head the size of a school bus. She was up and running with Gleipnir in hand before the monster even realized it had missed them.
“Tell me what the heck the plan is, Gleipnir.” Sam commanded as she pointed her wand at the ground and conjured a blast of wind to propel her up onto the monster’s back. “Bregðandi.” Her feet hit the sloping fractured wall of hide and she ran up the side of what was once a building.
“I need to get to the magic source and cut it off so that you can kill the monster.” It was a good thing that Sam had just about reached the former roof of the building because she sort of choked and stumbled as she understood what Gleipnir meant.
“We have to go inside?”
“We have to go inside” He confirmed gravely.
“This is so far beyond my pay grade.” Muttering between gritted teeth, Sam fought the revulsion she felt against deliberately placing herself inside a living body even if that body used to be a building. “Especially because inside that monster is either a lot of dead people or one really big dead dragon.” She pointed to the trail of blood that was leaking from the monster.
“It could be both.” The lumbering creature was turning and twisting as it searched the ground for them trying to figure out where the tasty little mortal morsels had gone.
“Why would you do that?” Shaking her head in exasperation, the warlock blinked at her pact item again. “I was trying to psych myself up to do this. Now I’m even more grossed out.” Gleipnir laughed. Sam laughed. Then they sobered.
“Cut a hole.” Gleipnir instructed. “I’ll go in and secure the probably-a-dragon corpse to suppress the arcanes it is emitting. Then you come in afterward and kill the monster before it finishes manifesting to a fully organic state.”
“Okay.” Gleipnir transformed in Sam’s hand to a sharper blade, making himself look more like a fencing saber than an oversized sewing needle. She slashed downward through what seemed to be a particularly vulnerable portion of the back. This roof had been covered in gravel and tar prior to its transformation and the portion she’d picked had partially caved in. It just needed a bigger opening; one she could climb through on her own.
Together they hacked apart the concrete and steel beneath them. Every few strokes they’d hit a newly formed blood vessel or a pocket of false matter flesh that would spurt and splatter on the pair. This was gross, dirty, and difficult work. And it was made more difficult by the heaving of the monster upon which they stood even if the creature’s back had its own safety wall around the edges.
The enraged thing was trying to remove them with short hops and flexes now that it realized where they were and that it couldn’t reach them with any of its limbs.
“I think that’s good, Sam.” When Gleipnir finally spoke, Sam was more than ready to stop. Her arms were tired and sore. Her feet hurt. And she was pretty sure that she’d pulled a muscle in her abdomen in the constant flexing and standing as she brought Gleipnir’s blade down over and over again.
Alex had been watching through a pair of binoculars shed snatched from Frank the second Sam sped back off again. When they’d stopped in front of the manifestation and Sam had just stood there? She’d never been so terrified for someone else in her life. Had Sam fallen prey to the same fear or terror field that
Alex herself had?
There was no way to know. Because Alex wasn’t there. Because she should have stayed with her partner. Like her partner had come back for her. All the probationary agent had been able to do was watch as that bloody mouth of horrific metal teeth came closer and closer to eating her partner.
Oh, God. Run. Why won’t she run. Oh, God. Oh, God. OhGod! OHGOD! I can’t watch!” At the end, she hadn’t even been able to watch and had tried to fling the binoculars away.
“Give me those.” Frank, of course, had taken them back so that he could watch. “Ah, hell!” He cursed as he focused the magnifying device to his own eyes. “Did they just get eaten? I can’t see anything through that dust cloud.” Alex hadn’t actually stopped watching. Instead, after a brief eyes-squeezed-shut moment, she raised a hand to block the bright sun from her eyes and tried to survey the fight unaided.
“I can’t see anything either, boss.” Someone commented. Alex didn’t care who.
Nothing mattered right now except for whether or not Sam was okay. Sam was what mattered. Not just because she was Alex’s partner, but because that monster was being fueled by something inside it. It wasn’t going to just ‘go down’ without a big damned fight.
“I see her.” Another voice commented.
“Where?”
“Where?”
“Where, where, where?”
Even among the chorus of ‘where’s’ Alex knew hers was a little more intense than the others. She was just concerned for her partner. That was all. Sam had just saved her life. It wouldn’t be fair if something happened to her before Alex could properly thank her.
“She’s climbing up the side of the thing.”
“Holy shit.”
“I see her too.”
Sure, there were a lot of people talking and running commentary. Yeah, there was a lot at stake. Beside her Frank was scribbling frantically on his message scroll requesting backup yet again, conveying every bit of data about the thing they were going to have to fight any minute now if Gleipnir wasn’t as all-that as he thought he was.
“What’s she doing? Is she…?” But Alex could see it too. The distant warlock was wielding Gleipnir like a regular old cutting implement and slicking chunks out of the roof-back she was standing on. Her hips and knees flexing like she was surfing a wild wave on the most effed up board ever.
“She’s cutting her way into the monster.” It came to Alex as she realized what the air had to do.
“Why wouldn’t she just try to kill it?” Who was that? Not Frank, so Alex didn’t look.
“Because there’s something in that monster fueling it and it will just keep regenerating until it’s removed.” That was Frank. And he sounded sadder than Alex had ever heard him. Okay. To be fair, she’d only just met him. But still, it was a kind of awed sadness that meant he got what was happening.
“But whatever that thing is, it’s Prometheus Pink outside of it. Inside will…does she even had a spell that can protect her from that?” Again, it was another mage, not Frank, not the previous not-Frank. Alex didn’t care.
A disgusting numbness was welling up in her stomach. Nausea was rising with it, and she couldn’t be horrified at what was happening. She just felt a terrible sadness as she felt the stinging prick of tears welling in her eyes.
“It doesn’t matter.” Her voice broke on the soft words, and she sniffed at the snot that was suddenly trying to run out of her nose. Stupid nose.
“Why not?” Alex didn’t bother responding and one glance at her told Frank that he might as well field that question for her.
“It doesn’t matter because it has to be done, and somebody has to do it.” Frank glanced at the other agents then back to Alex before returning his focus to the outline of a warlock on the back of a giant monster manifestation. “Either Sam and Gleipnir do it, or they fail, and we do it, or we fail and the people who come after us do it.”
Sam dropped from sight.
The monster gave up on trying to remove her from its back a few moments later. Alex guessed that was because it couldn’t feel her hacking at it anymore. Alex gripped her wand tightly and took a deep steadying breath. Now that it wasn’t distracted by Sam and Gleipnir’s attack, the monster began its heavy stomping way towards them again. Sam’s words echoed in her mind.
“It doesn’t matter who does it as long as it gets done.” It was something Sam and Gleipnir always said. Probably quoting Sam’s world-famous hero of a mom. The sentiment had always annoyed Alex who felt that there should be clear lines of responsibility. Not having agreed upon delegation meant that some people slacked off while others were taken advantage of. But Sam had insisted that there was always a time when those words applied.
“Get ready, people.” Frank hollered as he readied his wand and sidearm. “I don’t think backup is going to get here in time.” The monster started moving faster and faster, though it was still slow due to its size, it was doing its equivalent of a full-on sprint.
All of a sudden, it tripped and faltered.
Falling hard, the manifestation began crumbling as it skidded to a halt mere meters away. Many of the other agents had already begun fleeing out of the way to attack it from the side and behind. Now they were sheepishly avoiding eye contact with the agents who had stayed to face the monster head on.
Alex hadn’t fled.
And she didn’t quite believe the danger was over, so she stood there, wand at the ready, as she watched the carcass warily. The remnants of the building were still holding together but also, they were coming apart from structural damage.
When the sound of moving rubble drew her attention to the sinking roof, she pointed her wand to the location she estimated whatever it was would enter her line of sight.
The gathered agents waited tensely as the noise became louder and louder. Then a mop of frazzled light-brown hair surrounded by a halo of fire poked over the edge of the building. Alex’s heart clenched tightly, as if it was squeezed in a vice. While her shirt was torn and soaked with blood and false matter flesh, Sam was alright. She was more than alright. She was blazing, brilliantly beautiful beneath the dirt and bruises.
This was…
This was amazing. This was something that was going to live in the memories of the world centuries. When one warlock and their pact item saved a city from a monster invasion by going inside a manifestation. Someone pulled out a magically hardened camera they’d been using to document the crime scene earlier and snapped off a few quick shots of Sam as she clambered down with pained awkward movements.
Sam had never been arrogant. But that was how Alex had interpreted it. Because Alex had never bothered trying to understand what her partner was capable of. In her overabundance of self-confidence, the younger agent had always assumed that Sam had an inflated ego because of who she was related to. Alex had thought that all of Sam’s achievements had been easy due to favoritism and her mother’s fame paving the way. And she had been wrong.
Alex was just realizing that Sam really was amazing.
For her part, Sam was shielding her eyes, squinting out over the heads of the assembled agents. She had a quizzical look on her face, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. She pointed out a spot in the sky and called out to her fellow agents down below.
“Hey… Is that a chariot, or did I hit my head at some point?”
CHAPTER 51
2:00 PM September 13th, 2026
Outside the New York Preparatory Academy Ice Bubble
It was done. Or at least as close to done as it could possibly be until the corpse contaminating the city was removed. He’d killed all the monsters which had been besieging the survivors of the school attack. The ones inside Anna’s ice bubble were gone. Most of the ones outside had either been killed or driven away.
So, why was Kyle more on edge now than he had been at any other point through this entire ordeal?
The warlock took a minute and surveyed the interior of the ice bubble to ensure the monsters really were all dead. They were. That was good. Then he steeled himself for the uncomfortable part, squaring his shoulders as he did so.
People had noticed him. Not just noticed him but noticed that he wasn’t really known for being an overpowered warlock. There would be questions. So many questions. Ugh! His shoulders which he’d just straightened, slumped dejectedly.
Kyle hated those questions. Whenever he did something exceptional like this everyone was like: ‘OMG how did you do that?’ ‘You claimed you were just an average warlock, why would you lie about your abilities?’ ‘You do know that deliberately hiding your magic level from the Department of Magical Licensing is a felony that comes with fines up to one million dollars and up to twenty years in prison?’
Yeah.
It was a pain. But the problem was, Kyle really was just an average warlock. It was his talent for wizardry that let him do incredible things. And wizards didn’t have a reliable internal source of magic, they took their magic from the surrounding environment. That was why most wizards lived in high magic zones.
Kyle liked living in low magic zones. He liked civilization. And he honestly loved studying magical artifacts and history.
All those reasons were why he had chosen to become a warlock. As a warlock of the archivist, his almost non-existent internal magic stores were seriously augmented by the archivist. He got a cadre of spells from the archivist, and access to the greatest collection of magical knowledge the world over. Being a warlock meant he didn’t have to risk his life every single day in the back of beyond just to quench that tiny thirst for power that gnawed at him.
Because he was man enough to admit he thirsted for power. Magical power, not you know, power over others. But it was a thing with him. A tiny thing, yet still a thing. So warlocking it had to be.
His mom hadn’t been pleased at his choice of patron. She hadn’t been happy with yet another one of her children choosing to go another route with their magic. Not a one of the three older siblings had followed her family’s tradition of making a pact with a powerful military minded patron. Yes, they’d continued the tradition of service to others, but in their own way.
Davelor, the eldest had become a healer. Samantha was an engineer working with the Magic Crimes Division of the FBI. Kyle worked at the most prestigious educational facility for the investigation and containment of magical artifacts.
None of them fought like she did. Davelor had the build for battle. He was huge and ripped with muscles everywhere. Sam had the pact item for close combat with magical creatures. Gleipnir was flexible and had that nifty magic containment ability. And Kyle, if the ambient magic was high enough, Kyle could copy pretty much any spell that had ever existed.
So, Camina was most disappointed with Kyle’s choice to become the studious academic that he’d become. Even with the magical boost from his patron, Kyle’s abilities under normal circumstances were extremely limited. The warlock of the Archivist’s magic was so limited that under normal, magic collector protected location circumstances Kyle was just barely able to meet the Magicorops requirements for recruitment. One might argue that didn’t matter, since fighting would be done in high magic zones where he’d have free reign with all the magic his wizarding ways could ask for. One would be wrong.
Train how you fight.
Kyle couldn’t put up a good fight in low magic. This meant he could not protect a populated area from a monster incursion. He could only go to high magic areas and fight there. What was the point in killing monsters in their home territory and releasing their magic into the environment to raise the AMD? What was the point in killing monsters in an area that would just spawn more monsters? As a warlock, Kyle Wattkins was worthless to the Magicorps.
Sighing again, Kyle launched himself off the ice ramp that everyone else had slid down. He didn’t use his suit’s thrusters but had spread his wings to slow his descent. Even doing that made him morose as it reminded him that the very suit he wore, was a spell he could only use due to the high AMD flooding the city at the moment. The group of waiting teens cheered as Kyle landed with a thud.
Wings spread, he let the joint mechanisms in the suit absorb the force of his fall and he landed down on one knee like a superhero.
Okay. That had been fun. They began a rush toward him until Jones called out.
“Keep the kids back. That suit is mighty powerful and one of you all could get hurt if he bumps into you.” That had the teachers and staff urgently joining in the get the group back and ordered.
“Where are we evacuating to?” Kyle asked as he opened up the faceplate in his helmet. A tall serious and rather severe looking woman stepped forward and spoke up.
“The rest of the students were evacuated to the Plaza de Saint Germain hotel about eight blocks away.” She informed Kyle while looking him up and down in a way that both confused him and made him uncomfortable. It was that way educators had of assessing a student to see if they could maybe, possibly, under the best most optimum circumstances pass muster. And this woman’s look said she seriously doubted Kyle could handle the task.
Well, excuse her.
“Alright, Ma’am.” The young warlock decided that not showing how much she intimidated him was the right course. “Let’s get everyone there.” The woman’s eyes narrowed.
“Do you know where it is?” She genuinely seemed to think Kyle didn’t know she was talking about the oldest most famous Vampire run luxury hotel in the United States.
“Yes, Ma’am.” Clenching his jaw so that he didn’t say something flippant that made the staff mistrust him, Kyle kept his tone neutral and steady. “I know how to get there on foot.” The principal – this could only be the principal that his mom hated for letting that brat Sara bully people for years – harumphed and placed her fists on her hips.
“You don’t think it would be better for us to seek shelter in one of these buildings?” She gestured to the relatively intact buildings around them. Most of them had shattered windows on the first floor where monsters had penetrated the buildings. Her eyebrows and chin lifted, and her head tilted ever so slightly to one side. It almost was as if she was hoping he’d say what she wanted him to say and he frowned at the woman.
“No, Ma’am.” Now Kyle thought he understood what she was doing though his brow still furrowed with confusion. Anyone could see that those buildings were not particularly safe from external monster attack. “Those residential buildings might be magically hardened to protect against monsters forming inside. But even if they are up to the mandatory basic code for New York city, you can clearly see they’ve already been breached by monsters.” Then Kyle’s frown deepened as he recalled the desperate chaotic drive to get there. “Or possibly looters. We ran into some earlier.”
That caused the woman to draw back in alarm. Her eyes widened and her sharp exhale was echoed by several of the other survivors.
Alright.” It was quite possibly the weirdest, most passive aggressive standoff Kyle had ever participated in. “Lead the way Mister Wattkins. I’ll have my head of security coordinate with you to keep everyone safe.” She waved her head of security forward as she retreated to relay the news to the rest of the staff and students.
“Holy shit.” Kyle exclaimed as he took in the appearance of the man before him. “I didn’t know the school hired mercenaries for their security.” He chuckled a little and kind of internally gloated that he got to meet a mercenary while Sam was stuck babysitting dead dragons.
“Private security contractor. Mister Wattkins.” The man who was dressed all in black corrected him. He was in black pants with lots of pockets. And wearing a black long-sleeved shirt with lots of pockets.
His name was on a patch on one pocket like it was a military uniform and his company’s logo was on the arms like military service patches. A protective vest full of huge pockets with ammo and gear covered his chest, a magic message scroll was on one arm, a wand holder on the other. The look was finished up with a loaded handgun in a holster strapped down on one thigh.
Kyle laughed thinking it was a joke.
“I am not a mercenary Mister Wattkins. I’m a private security contractor. And for legal purposes I will require you to say that to anyone who may inquire in the future.” The definitely-not-a-mercenary made a big obvious wink at Kyle.
“Oh. Oooh.” Kyle’s lips pursed in an ‘o’ shape for a bit as the words sunk in.
“Gotcha.” With a shrug, Kyle accepted the statement. There wasn’t time to ponder over the implications now.
“Call me Kyle.” The warlock offered. And that was that.
CHAPTER 52
After a brief consultation with the head of school security who was definitely not a mercenary – which Kyle now knew because he had stated it several times – they headed off. The ‘security contractors’ formed a perimeter around the herd of students and teachers while Kyle took the lead and Jones pulled up the rear.
Things were going really well. And that was scaring the heck out of Kyle because he could see and feel the currents of magic twisting; in preparation for another manifestation. The longer it took, the bigger the monsters were going to be.
However, there weren’t any new monsters coming out to attack them. The people who had cheered Kyle and Jones on their gauntlet to the school were relatively quiet. By relatively, they were cheering like mad. Some screaming for the group to take shelter inside their building. Other asked to join them.
“Please stay inside your buildings.” Kyle shouted to those who wanted to come with them. “We are relocating because the school’s magic shielding has been compromised. If you are safe, don’t leave safety.” It became monotonous as he repeated it whenever someone requested to join.
Only one small group of a few bank tellers joined them. Two were bloodied and bedraggled and they were supporting a third between them.
“We don’t have access to the apartments upstairs and the manager,” the breathless blonde speaking gestured to a gray-haired elderly man draped between her and a dark-skinned man in his twenties wearing the slickest purple suit with all the accoutrements, “is unconscious and can’t get us into the vault.” It took only a quick survey of the ruined row of ground to ceiling windows for Kyle to realize that there was no safety there. “The only reason we aren’t all dead is because the monsters trying to eat us went after you two on your way through here earlier.”
“Fall in with everyone else.” The definitely not a mercenary cocked an eyebrow when Kyle said it loud enough for the whole group to hear. They shared a look which said neither of them liked the idea. But Kyle wasn’t about to abandon someone he’d already accidentally saved.
They continued on without incident. When they reached the barricade with the S.W.A.T team they’d passed earlier, the officers helped pull the civilians over the barricade. Despite congratulating Kyle and Jones on a job well done, they weren’t effusive in their praise. They were quiet and speculative. The captain nudged Jones as he passed and murmured low so that his voice wouldn’t carry.
“Can everyone at he museum do that?” The captain gestured towards Kyle with a nod in the warlock’s direction and Jones smirked, shaking his head negatively.
“You should help us get the kids out of here.” The officer in charge jumped at the unexpected closeness of the voice as Kyle came up behind him.
“We were supposed to…” He tried to argue that they had orders, but Kyle stopped him.
“Another big one is coming. The other barricades were overrun before we got through there. There’s no one to back you up if you stay. But if you help us your vehicles will get this group to safety at the Plaza de Saint Germain hotel.” Something about the look on Kyle’s face must have made his point and the officers started loading up the refugees into their vehicles.
Not everyone could fit inside but a few of the older boys volunteered to ride on the running boards holding on to the vehicles’ exteriors. An excited hope that was quickly squashed by every adult present. The children were safely ensconced within the vehicles. When necessary for someone to ride outside, it was an adult, usually one of the S.W.A.T. officers.
Jones, Anna, and the principal were all bundled into the museum vehicle that Kyle and Jones had driven there with a couple more kids. Kyle was standing on the running boards next to Anna’s window. She was behind Jones in the driver’s seat so Kyle could talk to her and Jones through Anna’s window without blocking the driver’s line of sight. There were two security personnel standing on the running boards on the side opposite Kyle. Jones had one of the communication scrolls from the school’s security personnel, which the principal was holding for him in the front passenger’s seat.
There was a girl on the far side of the back seat that kept giving him the oddest wide-eyed look which was making Kyle wonder if she was suffering from magic sickness. And between that girl and Anna was a boy sitting next to his sister. Kyle narrowed his eyes at the young man suspiciously through a murder-red haze of hate. The boy looked slightly older than Anna which automatically made him an ‘older boy’ and therefore not allowed to be that close to Anna.
Now was not the time for that. He’d get ‘Uncle Michael’ to deal with it later. Or maybe he’d just let slip to one of the pantheons that a boy might like Anna, then stand back and watch. It would be like the Little League debacle all over again. Word would spread. Boys wouldn’t risk sitting next to Anna Wattkins ever again. A tight determined smile ghosted across his overly-protective big brother face.
Back in the direction of the school the previous monster had dissipated its false matter back into the ambient magic. The arcanes had begun twisting darkly. Whatever it was, it was coming fast. There was no time to waste on nonsense.
“Let’s go people.” Kyle called, slapping the roof of the vehicle for emphasis before throwing his arm forward so that the other drivers could see his command. He pointed repeatedly in the forward direction and the principal repeated the command on the scroll in her lap, relaying it to dozen or so vehicles around them. “Go now!”
Every person with even a little bit of magic sensitivity had to have felt that. The vehicles moved out, lurching forward in a line. But it wasn’t fast enough. Kyle twisted his body so that he was facing backward. He watched as a part of the street began heaving behind them.
A creature erupted out of the ground, asphalt rupturing around it. It snarled, snapping its teeth as the rat grew and mutated faster and faster. Organic mutations were fast. Kyle knew their impromptu convoy wasn’t going to make it. There was only one thing to do. Around him, the S.W.A.T. members and security personnel riding outside the vehicles were firing their wands and munitions at the monster scrabbling after them. Its huge beady eyes jerking from target to target as if it was dazed. Or it just couldn’t make up its mind. Bending down he took a moment to speak to Anna.
“Hey, Snow Cone.” Anna, the boy beside her, and the girl on the other side of the vehicle were all turned around facing the direction they were fleeing. Fear was plain on the children’s faces. The principal hadn’t turned but her gaze was riveted on her view in the sideview mirror and her hands unconsciously clawing at the magical scroll in them. Anna turned to Kyle, and he could see in her eyes that she knew what he was going to say.
“I’ll come help you.” Before he could even say anything, she was reaching for the door to open it when the child safety lock clicked on all the doors as Jones activated it from the front seat. His sister hadn’t had any time to recover from her standoff with her last monster and she swayed in her seat as the vehicle went over a bump. “Let me out.” Her head turned to glare at Jones, but Kyle drew her attention back to him.
“Hey. It’s going to be okay, Snow Cone.” His lips drew back over his teeth in a snarled grin as he tried to pretend that everything was going to be okay. Because it would be. It was just going to be, well, there wasn’t going to be an easy way. “I’ve got awesome armor and I’m going to use that spell I’ve always wanted to try but there was never enough magic around for it. So, I need you to make sure everyone gets away.”
“Kyle...” Anna nodded, tears filling her eyes because she hated that he was going into danger without her.
“Good enough. Get my sister to safety, Jones.” He shouted then leaped off the back of the vehicle where he’d been standing guard.
“What? Kyle, no!” Anna shouted as she turned to look behind them. She saw her brother facing off against a monster far faster and meaner than the thing he’d previously fought. She immediately tried to get out of the vehicle and Jones enabled the child safety locks. “Let me out. I have to go and help him.” She started crying harder.
“No. Anna.” Jones told her as stoically as he could. “You really don’t.” She turned in her seat as Liam tried to comfort her and keep her calm. The sky was still blue and clear. The bright sun illuminated everything clearly. Kyle looked so small compared to the thing rising up behind them.
“Anna. Anna.” The principal had turned around when she’d heard Kyle and wanted clarification. “Anna, I need you to focus for a minute. What spell is Kyle talking about?” Anna’s face drained of what little color it had regained since her epic display of magic use. “What tier is it? How much distance do we need?”
“Oh, shit.” The teen breathed as her mind registered what her brother had meant. “More. We need more distance. As far as we can get. Then turn so there’s a few city blocks cutting off a direct line of sight.” Tense silence filled the vehicle as it sped away from the following monster. Anna watched her brother grow smaller and smaller until her view of him was cut off as Jones took a sharp right. She angled her head to look up at the sky knowing what to expect.
Clouds began rolling in. Dark. Heavy. Ominous. Within moments the bright sunny day had transitioned to an unnatural twilight. Her fellow passengers became concerned. From the driver’s seat, Jones looked up at the sky and murmured “Oh shit…” before refocusing his eyes on the road to keep driving. A few seconds later a booming voice rang out.
It sounded like Kyle, but also not. Tinged with an unnatural power of the divine. The sky flashed brilliantly, painting the thick cloud cover with stark shadows of skyscrapers.
“WRATH OF ZEUS!”
CHAPTER 53
The heavy clouds overhead tensed up, then seemed to flinch away slightly as the shockwave hit. Anyone indoors or safely enclosed within a vehicle was momentarily deafened, while those unlucky enough to be outside suffered slightly worse and were buffeted with wind for a few long seconds. Their ears popped as if equalizing to a change in pressure, and the heavy scent of ozone was only barely dampened by the rain that had just begun to fall.
If anyone had bothered to check, they would have noticed that the sides of buildings exposed to the blinding flash were now noticeably warm to the touch. If someone had been watching the spell unfold without eye protection, they likely wouldn’t be seeing for a few hours, though there would be no permanent damage from the light.
From her position in a fleeing vehicle with several city blocks worth of buildings between her and the spell, Anna was spared temporary blindness. She also wasn’t sure if she was okay. Sure, if everything worked the way it was supposed to, then Kyle had just obliterated the very dangerous monster. Which was good. But Anna didn’t know how Kyle had fared channeling that kind of magic through him.
‘Wrath of Zeus’ was the kind of spell that could kill the caster.
Most magic users relied on external sources of magic whether it was ambient magic, divine magic, or warlock patrons. Those were wizards, clerics or paladins, and warlocks. Most of the magic Kyle normally used was from his warlock patron, but he also had a wizard’s ability to control, manipulate, and use external sources of magic. Clerics and paladins got all of their magic from the divine beings they served and their faith. Warlocks got magic from their patrons and their pact items.
But the fourth type of magic user was sorcerers. Sorcerers had an internal source of magic. It was a part of their very being. They lived and breathed magic in their sinew and bones. Now, anyone with natural magical abilities like wizards or sorcerers could augment their powers by becoming a warlock or serving a divine being as a cleric or paladin. But the spells available from a patron or a faith were limited. To use the full range of magic out there, a sorcerer or a wizard was needed.
However, wizards were limited to only the ambient magic around them.
Whereas sorcerers were limited to their internal stores for spells. Or their affinity. Like Anna’s practical limitation to ice magic. Ice was just easy for her. Other spells took so much more effort and used so much more of her power than ice. The point was that neither she nor Kyle could perform Wrath of Zeus under normal conditions.
Anna couldn’t because though her magic was enough, using it for a spell that wasn’t ice magic would multiply the magic requirement significantly. It would take her magic and then her life. Kyle couldn’t normally use the spell because there wasn’t enough ambient magic in any of the livable areas of the world and he had pretty much no internal stores to use whatsoever. So he couldn’t even cast the spell. Today though, today he could cast it. And if he managed the magical flow correctly, he might have survived.
He probably survived.
Still, Anna couldn’t help worrying as she watched the rippling clouds above. They hadn’t cleared away yet. How long were they supposed to stay after the spell had been executed? Minutes? Hours? She searched her mind for the answer and couldn’t find it.
“Huh. What’s going on? Where are they taking my students?” The principal’s sharp question broke Anna out of her examination of the sky. Her gaze focused on the street in front of them. There was a large group of military vehicles in front of the Plaza de Saint Germain hotel. Yeah, there were a ton of vehicles, all terrain vehicles, jeeps with turrets attached, hummers, and even several tanks.
But there was also a convoy of vehicles loading up students. The ones she recognized loading up all looked like international students.
“About time the Magicorps showed up.” Liam huffed from beside Anna and Jones made a non-committal grunt of displeasure at the implied criticism before he spoke up as well.
“They should have been here hours ago. But it’s not just the Magicorps. Look.” The soldier was right. Sure there were squads of soldiers in yellow berets with wands and magical munition coming and going from the command tent as they left for assignments and returned for new orders. The ones standing around as guards and driving the vehicles looked like regular army though. As she watched, a group of soldiers with gods damned useless standard issue weapons approached their line of fleeing vehicles.
“Fucking army?” Jones muttered angrily. “Might as well be feeding the monsters. They’re practically civilians. Everyone keep quiet, they’ll be twitchy.” Jones gritted his teeth in frustration and tightened his grip on the steering wheel while they waited for the soldiers to reach them. The vehicles ahead of them were already being directed out of the way to park.
But the principal couldn’t wait any longer as she saw more of her precious students being loaded into vehicles. The last straw was when the student that had come with her started getting out of the vehicles and the school security personnel resisted the kids under their charge being led away by a military officer.
“No more. That’s it. I need to see what’s happening.” She was unbuckled and out the door before Jones could stop her. Her headlong sprint towards the students and the school security who now had weapons pointed at them was halted when the approaching soldiers raised weapons to point at her as well.
“Well, that’s happening.” Jones growled in frustration. “If I’d known we’d been dealing with these idiots I’d have brought some crayons as bribes.” But he quieted, kept his hands non-threateningly on the wheel, and forced himself to have a neutral semi-smile on his face. After a few tense, shouted exchanges where the soldiers verified who the principal was, they lowered their weapons and one peeled off from the group to escort her somewhere while the rest continued on towards the vehicle that Anna was in.
CHAPTER 54
“I’m so happy to see you guys.” Jones’ big smile and the tone of absolute welcoming in his voice as if it was the best thing in the world for the army to show up, shocked the children inside the vehicle. Anna found herself blinking in surprise at who well the Magicorps soldier was lying through his teeth. “We’ve had a rough time of it. So glad the calvary has arrived.”
A couple of sniggers came from the two guys who were still standing on the running boards outside the vehicle. Jones had been selling it so well until the last sentence took it a little too far. Still, the soldiers were almost immediately more friendly toward Jones despite them glaring at the other two individuals who weren’t nearly as impressed by them.
For her part, Anna wasn’t particularly impressed either. They were of low rank. None of them were magic users, otherwise, they would have had the insignia for it, which was universal across military branches in the United States. These weren’t rescuers. They’d be almost useless in a fight, and they knew it was the reason they were directing traffic.
Jones knew it too. He hadn’t rubbed it in and had lumped this small group in with the overall efforts thereby not offending them. Which was smart. It kept people who weren’t super significant from using the little power they did have to be jackasses. It was one of the things that her mom gripped about all the time. Small-minded people being petty because they could was a common complaint in the Wattkins house.
After a brief friendly exchange, they were directed to park out of the way of ongoing efforts. Then the kids were escorted into the building to be sorted and sent home if their homes were safe. Boarding students were being sent back to whatever city or country they were from. It seemed a bit wrong for a military operation to be involved with a private school. Like, that was definitely unfair favoritism towards the wealthy and influential. It made sense of a sort though because so many of the students were the children of diplomats, politicians, and various other foreign dignitaries. For example, cough, a couple of members of royalty that everyone pretended were normal students, cough.
There were students of way more important people than Camina Wattkins there, so both Anna and Jones were surprised when Jones was stopped and told he had to report to the command on the scene.
“You need to be debriefed and assigned to a temporary team.” Jones was informed coldly.
“I’m under assignment from the Museum.” He pointed at the patch that showed he was assigned to the National Museum of Unnatural Science and History. “I’m under orders to escort Miss Wattkins until she’s transferred over to Museum personnel, or she is returned to her parents' custody.” One of the soldiers drew back as if Anna was a venomous spider and she was about to bite him.
“Wa – Wattkins?” He stuttered. “As in…the Wattkins?” Anna snorted and rolled her eyes.
“Was that you?” One of the soldiers turned to Anna with admiration. “Doing the
‘Wrath of Zeus’ spell and that giant ice shield?” Before any of the teens around him could speak, Jones answered for Anna.
“She did the ice shield. We did not witness who cast that Magekiller spell.” He turned to the three students with him and gave them meaningful looks disguised as seeking confirmation. “Did we kids? We were several blocks away at least and our view was cut off from wherever the epicenter of the spell was by buildings.”
They had given quizzical looks at first and then they realized that no, they hadn’t really seen who cast the spell even if they had assumed that it was Kyle.
“Oh.” Clearly disappointed, the soldier’s excited look turned downcast. Anna and Liam were both put out that he didn’t seem impressed at all with her ice shield. To everyone’s surprise, it was Sara who spoke up.
“But her ice shield was amazing.” She placed her hands defiantly on her hips, tossed her long blonde hair in the epitome of spoiled rick mean-girl fashion and stomped a foot for emphasis. “She held off a gigantic monster for hours with it until the museum guys showed up.”
And that’s what did it. If Sara had stopped at ‘but her ice shield was amazing’, they could have been overlooked a little bit. But it was the big monster being stopped by the ‘museum guys’ that got them singled out and truly noticed.
“Yeah.” The squad leader looked lazily back to a nervously grinning Jones and then at Anna with a raised eyebrow. “You definitely need to come with us and talk to command.”
“Damnit Sara.” Anna glared at her bully. “Even when you’re nice…” She wanted to kick the girl. But didn’t get the chance to as Sara and Liam were led off to join the rest of the students and Anna somehow got lumped in with the S.W.A.T team, the school security personnel, and Jones for debriefing.
It wasn’t bad. In fact, it seemed like things were going to go very well. They asked her about the ice shield. She admitted to it. They were like ‘cool, we already knew you could do that you’re a registered sorcerer with an elemental affinity for ice’. Then they asked about the Magekiller spell and she told the truth, she hadn’t seen who had used it. And they believed her.
Everything was hunky dory. Her and Jones were loaded up into a jeep in the convoy and driven out of town. Over the bridges, into New Jersey, and then to some kind of military base or office building. Honestly, she’d fallen asleep at one point, so she didn’t know exactly where they were. Just that when they stopped, the sun was out again. When she got out of the vehicle she looked around and could see the dark clouds gathered over Manhattan and it was not as far away as she feared.
CHAPTER 55
“I thought I was being taken home?” Her question was ignored and Jones shook his head while drawing close to her. “Jones…” she hesitated speaking his name because it was the first time she’d ever said it and was worried that she’d misremembered it. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know Snow Cone.” He’d used her brother's nickname for her without thinking. Kyle had referred to her as Snow Cone so many times that he’d just started thinking of the kid as Snow Cone instead of as Anna.
The soldiers escorting them, who were not the same as the ones who had originally approached them in the city, exchanged glances. They entered the building and after passing a few security checkpoints were led to rooms. They opened one door and gestured for Jones to enter.
“No.” He insisted adamantly. “I’m under orders from museum personnel to protect Miss Wattkins. Until she is reunited with her parents or museum personnel, she is not to leave my sight.” Again, the soldiers exchanged glances with each other as if Jones’ words had confirmed some kind of suspicion they had.
“She won’t be leaving your sight.” One assured him. Then the other walked a few feet down the hall and opened the door there. When he flipped the light switch, the far wall of the first room lit up. It was glass. From an observation room. Jones rolled his head back and looked up at the sky with a sigh.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Because now he knew or at least suspected what was going on. When she saw the interrogation room Anna’s heart leapt into a gallop.
“Am I in trouble?” Her soft voice was incredulous as she stared at the room.
“No. We just got on the radar of someone who thinks they have clearance, but doesn’t, so they don’t realize how much trouble they are going to be in. Go on in, kid. It’s fine. They’re just going to waste a bunch of time and piss off your mom.” Anna hesitantly entered the clean eggshell-toned room and immediately knocked on the mirror there.
The door was still open, but a soldier was standing at it between her and freedom. She heard a knock in return, but it didn’t reassure her.
“How do I know that’s Jones?” Ana called out just as she heard Jones shout coming from the open door.
“It’s me, kid. Sit down and rest. I’ll see if they can rustle you up a mana potion. I know you’re exhausted.” It was true. Anna was exhausted. She’d been running and fighting for hours, without breakfast or lunch.
“And some food? I haven’t eaten today. And since Mom’s been out of town Dad cooked last night. It wasn’t good.” After she’d said it, she wondered if maybe she’d crossed a line. But Jones just laughed.
“I feel ya. My dad’s a shitty cook too. I’ll see what I can do.” Then Anna heard some quieter muttering as Jones conferred with the others. She sat down to wait and found herself resting her head on her forearms on the table.
In all honesty, Camina Wattkins was a terrible cook. Really, really, awful. But she was smart enough to acknowledge that she sucked at cooking and made sure that the house had food. Those pre-prepped meal boxes were lifesavers. And sometimes one of her grandparents would come over and cook. It was best when Kyle came over though. He was a great cook.
Her dad did food like a bachelor who thought cooking was women’s work. Take-out and microwave dinners were his staple. Unless he forgot to go grocery shopping and was too cheap and lazy to buy delivery. They’d had fried jelly and pickle wraps for dinner. Which honestly wouldn’t have been that bad if they’d had peanut butter or strawberry jelly. Nooo… all they had was grape jelly and pickles.
And the wraps hadn’t been deep fried. They were pan-fried. So, they were burnt in spots, undercooked in others, and filled with scalding melted jelly and hot pickles. Sweet, grape, salty, dill in a whole wheat flour tortilla. Who does that?
Why? Grape jelly in fried pickle wraps? Whole wheat tortillas?
Everyone knew it was supposed to be fresh strawberries, dill, salt, and cucumbers with sour cream in a corn tortilla that was deep-fried. The outside was supposed to be crispy. like a taco shell, and have malt vinegar sprinkled on it. The flavors were supposed to be sweet-salty, and umami. The inside was supposed to still be cool while the outside crunched.
It was only a few minutes before someone showed up with a juice box, a bottle of cold water, a bag of nuts and a vending machine sized bag of corn chips.
“We weren’t sure if you have any allergies? The sailor who brought them in stated in a questioning tone. Do you want the nuts?” Navy now? Interesting. Anna felt her eyebrow raise at the new development.
“No allergies.” She responded and took both bags and the juice box. “Thank you.” Tucking into her food, Anna settled in to wait while she glared
intermittently at the mirror on the far wall. This was not how she had expected to spend the rest of her day.
It was not until she had clearly finished snacking and tossed her trash in the little bathroom-sized bin in the corner, that someone finally showed up to talk to her. She knew they were coming when she heard footsteps, a lot of them, coming down the hall. Which was easy to hear because the door was still open to both rooms. Anna heard the familiar sound of soldiers standing to attention and saluting as the newcomers shuffled in.
In the other room, Jones felt his heartbeat quicken as he watched a familiar face enter the room. It was the Vice President of Daedalus Engineering, the foremost military contractor in the country. Jones had never met the billionaire, but he’d seen him on TV enough times to recognize him. He was accompanied by a group of rather serious men in black suits, and some higher-ranking military officials.
Not super high, not people who would have met Anna through interactions with her mother. None of them were Magicorps, however, and that was concerning.
Jones had stood and saluted like a good soldier should. And he’d gone along with things so as to not get Anna or Kyle in too much trouble while there was a crisis going on. But these chuckleheads taking advantage of that crisis to corner Anna for some reason was going too far.
“At ease, soldier.” The highest ranked officer told Jones and his escorts. So, Jones relaxed and took the proper stance before addressing them. And no, he wasn’t particularly polite about it.
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