George, for some mysterious reason, referred to it as Beatrice. After seeing the whimsical expression on the normally-acerbic agent’s face at the declaration, Hans and Kevin went with it.
Less acceptable was the revelation of a critical flaw in their design. Designed to even the playing field between the more mundane Division M personnel and the creatures they confronted, the machine was heavily-armed and armored enough to stand up to pretty much anything encountered in the history of the agency. So, when Helen Locke the fugitive witch cut Troll-1’s strings with a wave of her hand, it was time to go back to the drawing board.
Hans sighed and ticked the points off on his fingers. “We’re at the limit of current servomotor technology. We add more weight, we slow the next generation down and reduce effectiveness. And with the weight and power draw, if you want any sort of endurance, you’re talking a lot of mass devoted to batteries. Which means we’d have to cut armor.”
Kevin frowned. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’m listening. How much are we talking?”
The doctor tapped into a calculator for a moment after consulting the design notes lining the edges of the blueprints. “A third, at least.”
Wincing, Kevin said, “That’s not horrible. That still makes most stuff survivable.”
“Sasquatch?”
“Shit. Probably not.”
Hans traced his finger along the list of runes they’d inscribed into the Troll’s exoskeleton. Powering a machine with a mysterious energy that defied all known laws of science offended the physicist’s sensibilities. He liked to tell himself that which everyone else in the agency dubbed ‘magic’ was just another form of science. That, he’d once told Menard, kept him from curling up and rocking back and forth in a corner. Squiggly lines and marks shouldn’t have been able to provide kilowatts of electrical power—but somehow, they did. “It seems to me that it would be easier to determine what weakness allowed the wi—Helen Locke, that is, to interrupt the power supply. There must be some way to implement a tamper-proof seal, for lack of a better term.”
“Agent Morgan consulted on the original glyphs,” Kevin said. “I wonder if she has any experience with this sort of thing.”
“Never hurts to ask, but she’s been out of town with the rest of the fearsome foursome.”
Kevin leaned over the blueprints, studying the glyphs. “I hear Locke hurt Eliot pretty bad. Maybe we shouldn’t feel too bad about her taking down the Troll.”
“Good point,” Hans agreed. “I don’t see where we messed up, and that’s what—”
The main door leading into the lab buzzed. Kevin glanced over and tried to keep a goofy grin from spreading across his face. He’d had a low-grade crush on Kristin Hughes ever since she’d transferred into the Leesburg office a few years back. Dating amongst coworkers was usually a big-time policy violation, but the ultra-secret nature of Division M had led the powers that be to loosen some of the restrictions. It was much easier to maintain secrecy when both partners in a relationship were already read into the nuances of a black organization.
“New artifact from one of the field offices, gentlemen.” She lifted a flat, rectangular object wrapped in burlap and twine. “Needs to go in the vault.”
Kevin took a quick glance at Hans. The scientist wore a puzzled frown. “Not the process, Miss Hughes. We need a copy of the incident report so we can do a volatility assessment. Then it goes into a vault.”
She gave the two men a dazzling smile and strolled across the lab. The subdued click of her heels on the linoleum sounded like thunder in Kevin’s ears. His cheeks flushed with heat as a sweet fragrance filled his nostrils. He wondered what sort of perfume was pungent enough to smell halfway across a room, but the scent overwhelmed his thoughts and left him with a pleasant buzz. “Uhh,” Kevin said. “I, um…” Further conversation failed him—he shook his head and laughed. Hans snorted laughter of his own as Kristin stepped up to their table.
She glanced at the blueprints before depositing her artifact on top of them. “We don’t need all that silly paperwork today, do we? I wouldn’t mind taking a look around the vault, though. How about it?”
Hans wobbled back and forth, then clamped one hand on the table to steady himself. “Not, uh, procedure.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Menard. Call … security.”
Kristin pouted. “Party pooper.” She snagged Hans’ tie with one hand and pulled him closer. Away from the support of the table, he wobbled back and forth drunkenly. “Kevin, sweetie, can you open the vault by yourself, or is it a two-man job?”
He puffed his chest out with pride. “I can do it.”
“Marvelous.” Kristin put a hand on each of Hans’ cheeks, then twisted violently. In spite of their size disparity, the physicist’s neck rattled like popcorn as she twisted his neck far beyond its normal limits. He crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
A small, still voice in the back of Kevin’s mind screamed in horror, but a fresh rush of Kristin’s heady scent blurred his vision. After what she’d done to his friend, the crimson fingernail she traced up his throat and under his chin should have reduced him to hysterics. Instead, he stood there, knees trembling with suppressed ecstasy as she brought her lips close to his ear and whispered. “Open it for me, Kevin.”
Voice thick with desire, he croaked, “Yes, of course.” He stumbled across the lab. His body burned and ached all at once. He wanted nothing more than to strip out of every stitch of his clothing, and some subtle undercurrent in Kristin’s voice told him that if he pleased her, she might let him do just that. Conscious thought slipped away, replaced only by animal instinct, and a vast, gnawing need to satisfy his mistress.
The vault consisted of a pair of massive safe doors set into an interior block wall. Open, Kevin knew without looking that he’d find stainless steel walls, floor, and ceiling. Regularly-spaced glyphs were the only irregularity in the gloss finish of the massive metal cube’s interior. The magic symbols strengthened the walls and prevented penetration by otherworldly means. As far as earthly means, it would take some doing to punch through twelve inches of solid steel.
As he drew further away from Kristin, his muddled thoughts cleared a bit, and he considered how nothing in the vault was all that dangerous. The contents were items either for study and testing—often recent acquisitions in the course of Division M investigations—or tools the staff used to craft and maintain their own magical arsenals. The enchanted chisels they’d used to inscribe the runes of power on the Troll, for example. As far as stockpiles went, this one wasn’t much to speak of, and Hans had told him that the real mother lode was—Kevin froze, the sight and sound of his coworker’s snapping neck running through his mind. He opened his mouth to cry out, but Kristin pressed her chest against his back, wrapping her arms around his torso. Her fingers traced lines of heat down his chest and stomach, then playfully continued along the front of his thighs.
“We’re so close,” she whispered, nibbling on his earlobe. That overpowering perfume overtook him once more, and he nodded, a dumb grin spreading across his face.
His fingers felt thick and clumsy. It took him a few tries before the door accepted his code and withdrew the massive locking bolts lining the perimeter. He heaved, and the lights on the interior came on automatically as he turned to display the contents of the vault to Kristin.
“That’s lovely,” she said. The peck she gave him on the cheek caused his eyes to go crossed, and he was on the floor before he realized he’d collapsed. Fuzzy, he lifted his head and watched as she walked the perimeter, studying the contents of each shelf before moving on. Toward the back of the room, she plucked a storage cylinder reminiscent of the pneumatic carrier tubes used by banks. Tucking it under one arm, she returned to the entrance and knelt at his side. “You poor thing. You’re about to burst from all the excitement, aren’t you?”
He couldn’t coordinate his lips and tongue to form words, so he settled for a sheepish grin.
Kristin t
ousled his hair. “Thanks for your help, Kevin. I want you to wait here for a while, okay?”
“Okay,” he managed.
“Good boy,” she whispered, and a thrill went through him at the praise.
Each click of her departing heels seemed to coincide with the heavy lassitude that overtook him. Body tingling, the dissipating aroma of her perfume carried him into an exhausted sleep.
Liliana—Monday morning
Leesburg, Virginia
It took everything she had to leave the human behind. He was well-marinated in the juices of his lust, and Liliana was starving.
She hadn’t survived in a world that had claimed so many of her brothers and sisters without an exceptionally well-developed sense of survival. That, combined with her own personal knowledge of how matter-of-fact Knight tended to be, lent more than a little urgency to her steps as she hustled the artifact out of the building. More than anything the wizard was prone to understatement. She expected that the building was not long for the world.
Nearly home free, she ran into a crowd at the building entrance. She dug through the harvested memories of her host form, cringing ever-so-slightly as she realized that the powerfully-built human clearing the security checkpoint was the Director of Division M, Russell Newquist, along with his security detail and assorted hangers-on. At first, she feared discovery, but a memory of an ongoing high-profile case bubbled to the top, and she relaxed. They were meeting, not about her or Aleister Knight, but rather the human witch, Helen Locke.
Liliana held back a cruel smile. Fools.
The director smiled as he saw her. “Kristin! You didn’t have to meet us down here. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to attend to before the conference.”
Kristin’s mannerisms and voice tasted bitter in her mouth, but she reminded herself that she’d be able to shed the disguise, and soon. “Guilty, Director—I actually forgot something out in the car. I’ll see you shortly.”
He smiled and nodded, turning away to another member of the group as she hustled past. Once her back was to the herd of sheep, she let down her guard and allowed herself to smile. It was so nice to work with professionals. Knight never failed to present her with a challenge, but he also backed it up with enough research and planning to make even the hardest job silk smooth.
She hit the button on Kristin’s keys to pop the trunk. Slipping the strap of the Division M agent’s cheap purse off of her shoulder, she pulled the artifact out and deposited the purse, keys and all in the trunk. They didn’t need the cutesy little shit box of a car, anymore, and she fully intended to replace it with something low and fast.
As soon as she got something to eat.
Aleister—Monday morning
Leesburg, Virginia
The ground under his feet shook, and a section of the massive building’s roof bulged before rupturing and venting gouts of flame into the sky.
Aleister allowed himself a small smile of pride. It had been a difficult bit of magic, packing something so powerful into a portable package, but it wasn’t the first time he’d used something of its like. Depending on how thoroughly Division M maintained its records, there was a possibility they’d be able to link the device to him.
By that point, he would more than likely hold the completed Spear and wouldn’t give much of a damn. The thought of them scrambling around, hair on fire, when they did realize who’d hit them, brought more than a little joy to his heart.
Leaves rustled, and he turned. Right on time.
Liliana had already shed the trappings of their first victim. Walking naked across the forest floor, her body rippled and tightened into a familiar blond-haired ice queen. She remained nude for two steps before skintight leather formed to complete her appearance.
Even knowing what she was, the sight of her lithe, erotic form brought a rush of blood to otherwise forgotten areas. He pushed the urge down—as enjoyable as the experience might be, he’d likely not survive it, given the reddish cast to her eyes.
She proffered the containment cylinder with a sarcastic grin. She likely felt his subdued attraction, though she respected—or feared—his own abilities enough to refrain from doing anything about it. From a normal human, even a bit of interest was like blood in the water to a shark for one of her breed.
The buzz that went through the case as he accepted it brought a smile to his face. Three down. One to go. “Your fee is in the normal account,” he said, bowing his head politely. “It’s always a pleasure.”
Liliana smirked. “I’ll keep quiet—for a price.”
He was accustomed to her foibles, but he still felt a hint of annoyance at even a joke about extortion. “Tell anyone you care to, love. When you’re ready to pay the price.”
“If the humans find out what you’re up to, they’ll move Heaven and Earth to stop it.”
Knight raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know the half of it. Which tells me you don’t have any idea what I plan to do with it, either.” He winked. “And I know you wouldn’t stoop to dealing with the mortal authorities. Unless I’m mistaken, they have your kind listed as kill on sight, no?”
She laughed. “I do so enjoy our business ventures, Aleister. Call me again.” Liliana waggled her fingers in farewell as she headed back toward the main highway in a languid strut.
His smile faded, his face turning as hard as his thoughts. Once I’m done, I’ll have no need for such as you, creature.
Chapter Ten
Paxton
Location unknown
I couldn’t cut or phase my way out of the cell, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t get ready to attempt an escape.
After the beating I’d gotten from a trio of witch’s familiars, I’d spent most of the past few weeks limping around, trying to build my strength back up. Say what you will about being stuck in an eight-by-ten cell. It was a prime opportunity to rest up.
The food wasn’t plentiful enough to go overboard, but after the first meal on wheels, I settled into a routine. I’d eat, then turn the focus of my healing spell inward. The last time I’d used it, I’d nearly drained myself dry, melting pounds of weight off my body that I didn’t need to lose. The sight of my cheekbones and ribs in stark relief after I woke up in the hospital was shocking, to say the least. I’d spent much of the intervening time gorging myself and groaning at the aching of healing bones.
Magic turned out to be a pretty decent diet plan. And tiring myself out made it easier to sleep through the occasional odd noise in the otherwise pervasive silence.
I’d made the mistake of asking Puck what a noise was, at one point. Part of me hoped that he’d been pulling my leg, but I was starting to doubt it.
Every time I started to believe that I’d found the bottom of the magical rabbit hole, I discovered something else. As though ghosts weren’t bad enough, Puck and I were apparently a few cells down from a griffin. If the roar was anything to go by, an eagle’s head on a lion’s body did weird things to your vocal cords.
The quiet had done wonders for my hearing, and tired as I was, as soon as the subtle squeaking of the food cart trickled into my cell, I opened my eyes and sat up on my bed. Last night had been cold enough that I’d left my clothes on, and I bent over and laced up my shoes. 150 laps around the cell made for a mile and promised to bore me to tears, but it wasn’t as though I had a hopping social calendar.
I smiled, remembering Cassie urging me out of bed to go running with her. What I’d give to be able to tell her I’m coming…
The lights flickered.
Leaning closer to the opening in the door, I said, “Hey, Puck. Does that—”
I didn’t get the chance to finish my question. A wall of flame shot down the hallway toward my cell with a freight-train roar. I flinched back, barking my elbows on the concrete floor as I dove for the bed. The room went dark as the lights went out for good, then brightened as flame shot through the hole in the cell door. My cell went from the edge of too cold to sweltering in the span of a few seconds.
/> The floor shook, bouncing me up and down a few times. A heavy impact pushed the mattress down on top of me, and I squirmed closer to the wall, hoping the entire mess wasn’t about to come down on me. When I turned my head, I saw that the room had gone almost completely dark, save for a sliver of light at one side of the cell door. I squinted, trying to understand what I was looking at.
My heart leaped in my chest. The earthquake or whatever it was had twisted the door out of true, and one corner sagged out into the hallway. Was that enough of a gap to exploit?
The disaster seemed to be over, and muffled screams filled the abrupt silence. I slid out from under the bed and headed toward the light. If the electricity was off throughout the cell block, there was only one place where it could be coming from.
The gap wasn’t big enough for me to get my head through to look, but what looked like sunlight originated from the right side of my cell, back toward the entrance. I took a step back and looked at the ceiling. The previously-smooth slab of concrete was spider-webbed with cracks, and more than a few chunks had fallen out. For the moment, it seemed stable, though who knew how long that would last.
The dust in the air made the soft blue light of my force blade even brighter. I braced myself for the shock as I stuck it through the opening between the door and the wall, but nothing happened. With the structural integrity of the room compromised, it seemed as though Division M’s spells were kaput. I brought the blade down to cut through the bottom hinge. As soon as the metal parted, the door shifted further out, and the ceiling cracked and popped with it.
“Shit!” I wrapped my fingers around the open edge of the door and pulled, trying to keep it from moving any further. Didn’t think that through, did you, dipshit? Then a pair of heavily-muscled hands appeared above my own, shoving the door back as I pulled, and I screamed.
Come, Seeling Night Page 6
