Junkyard Dogma (The Elven Prophecy Book 4)

by Theophilus Monroe

  Layla pulled back onto the highway. “I suppose we should go back to the ranch?”

  I nodded. “Let's do that. Once we are sure that this worked and that people are talking about it, we’ll go ahead and give the President a call.”

  “Remember,” Layla said. “Collin said to record the call.”

  I nodded and pulled out my phone. “I’ll have to see if there’s an app for that.”

  “I’m pretty sure there is,” Aerin said as she scrolled down the screen of her phone. “Looks like our views are strong. Already a couple million.”

  “A couple million?” I asked.

  “I think since we already had an audience with the trials, it helped,” Aerin said. “Let me see if I can find any more buzz. I included a hashtag in the description for the live-stream.

  “That’s smart,” I said. “Will help it go viral, hopefully. What was the hashtag?”

  “Hashtag healz4realz.”

  “Like, all one word?” I asked.

  “Yes, and with z’s rather than s’s, and the number four rather than the letters.”

  “With 3s instead of Es?” Layla asked.

  “Ugh,” Aerin said. “I hate when people do that. No, for some reason, the letter Z is cooler than the letter S.”

  “Not quite as cool as the letter X, though,” I quipped.

  “True,” Aerin said, giggling. “Add an X to something, and suddenly it’s three degrees cooler.”

  “Doesn’t work with every letter,” I said. “Not like you could do that with a Q and have the same effect. The X-games, that’s awesome. Not sure the Q-games or the P-games would spark the same interest.”

  Aerin chuckled. “The P-games. Sounds so nasty!”

  “Hey,” I said. “Peeing for distance is a real hillbilly sport. Don’t have to go much further south than the junkyard ranch, and I’m sure you’d find regular leagues.”

  “I’d totally win that event,” Aerin said.

  “You’d win a peeing for distance contest?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “I’m half inclined to challenge you just to see if you can put your money where your mouth is… Or your…well, not your mouth. You know what I mean.”

  Layla rolled her eyes. “I get it. Aerin is cool. Healz with a z; it’s badass and all that. But will people take it seriously? Sounds kind of juvenile.”

  Aerin smiled wide as she continued scrolling on her phone. “Considering the fact that the hashtag is now trending, I’d say it worked.”

  “Sweet,” I said. “Now it’s just a matter of hoping some news outlets pick up on it.”

  “Hopefully, this doesn’t work too well,” Layla said. “Even if you turn yourself in, if they don’t want to indict you, they just won’t. It isn’t like they’re going to present you with a menu of options. Not until you get to decide on a plea. If they don’t have any evidence other than what the President might leak to them to suggest you’re guilty.”

  I shook my head. “I’m probably the first person in history who was worried about not getting indicted for murder. But you’re right. If I’m not indicted, I can’t be acquitted or pardoned.”

  “And if you can’t do that, the Furies won’t accept that you’ve fulfilled your part in the agreement,” Aerin said.

  I scratched my head. “We’ll see what the President says. I’m going to be pretty firm about the fact that I won’t, for any reason, support his alliance with Brightborn. Hopefully, he’ll get the wheels turning to expedite the indictment. I still have some leverage. He knows I won’t be easy to capture, much less keep in custody. But if I’m willing to comply on the condition that he does this quickly, he might get things moving faster.”

  “Won’t he be curious why you want it done fast?” Layla asked.

  I nodded. “Probably. But I don’t think he’s going to guess it’s because I have a deadline with the Furies and that one of the nation’s major cities, not to mention a lot of the region, might be compromised otherwise.”

  “You could tell him,” Aerin said. “Let him know what’s at stake.”

  I shook my head. “Can’t trust him. Not now that he’s in league with Brightborn. The last thing we need is the elven king getting wind of our agreement with the Furies.”

  “I wonder how he’d act if he thought his time with the fairies on his side was limited,” Layla said.

  “That’s an advantage that Brightborn would hate to lose before any battles are actually fought,” Aerin said. “There might be something to that.”

  “I think he’s hoping to avoid having to fight any battles at all,” Layla said. “That’s why he’s schmoozing the President. If he can convince the government to endorse his armies and they gradually ceded him power...”

  I shook my head. “I just can’t believe that the government would do something like that.”

  Layla shrugged. “It depends how desperate the situation is. Trust me, my father has something else up his sleeve. He’s doing more than buying time with the President. He’s setting things up. I imagine he has something planned. Something awful. Knowing my father, he’s going to rise to the occasion like the hero at the ninth hour. When the government has no other options, he’ll be there, ready to assume the ‘burden’ of power in order to save the nation.”

  I nodded. “Another reason why we need to do this quickly. If Brightborn still has the fairies, he’ll use them if I try to use my magic to stop whatever it is he has planned. The last thing he wants is for me to rise up and appear to be the hero. He won’t want me to steal his thunder.”

  “Looks like your healings are getting some national play,” Aerin said. “There’s a story from the AP now, so it’s just a matter of time before the other networks pick up on it.”

  “What’s the story?” I asked.

  “Miracle Working Preacher is Back—But Is He for Real?” Aerin said, reading the headline out loud.

  I smiled. “What’s their determination? Do they answer the question?”

  Aerin shook her head. “Not directly. They haven’t had a chance to talk to any witnesses yet. But I’m sure they will as soon as they can. Then they’ll see that these people were really healed and the doctors don’t have an explanation.”

  “Once that happens, once the evidence is out there and the stories can’t be easily buried. Then, I’ll call the President.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  All three of us were glued to our phones. Our pay-in-advance plans only allowed so much data. Perhaps we weren’t being efficient given our limitations. Getting this news out there was important for a variety of reasons. It was hard to say how public opinion might shift once the news came out that I was being accused of murder. At the very least, it would make my arrest public enough that the powers that be couldn’t just sweep it under the rug and drag their heels.

  Besides, I had more leverage than that. Because, as Layla and Aerin had reminded me many times, the government didn’t have any way to really disarm me, magically speaking. The President could probably get me indicted and arrested. Holding me, though, required a certain degree of compliance on my part.

  I was inclined to comply regardless. I was raised to believe that, as a Christian, so long as the government doesn’t require me to disobey a command from God, I’m nonetheless duty-bound to obey earthly authorities, even if their actions are unjust. Of course, the President didn’t know that. One thing that Collin made clear was that, at this stage of the game, leverage was everything. My best shot to meet the thirty-day window was a pardon rather than an acquittal. That meant, above all else, exercising whatever leverage I had with one man—the President of the United States.

  I shook my head as I stared at my phone. Calling the fucking President? I hadn’t even voted for the man. It wasn’t long ago when he’d had me brought to the Oval Office, with Brag’mok and Ensley already there, to strategize about how to prevent the elves from coming to Earth. But now that the elves were here and they’d shown how powerful they were, and since they’d offered to lend that
power to the government in exchange for asylum—which was a cover for the elves to get a foothold here so they could launch their campaign of world domination—the President suddenly found himself kowtowing to Brightborn.

  My goal was to complicate that position. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to convince the President to rethink his alliance with Brightborn, but perhaps I could raise some questions in his mind. If I was more willing to go to prison than to support his alliance, that might at least give him a moment of pause. How many accused murderers would refuse to give a little speech and endorse a President’s policies to avoid conviction? Probably not many.

  But when the fate of the world was at stake and the burden for saving it fell squarely on my shoulders, that was what I was duty-bound to do.

  The major networks had picked up on my story. It was viral on social media. It was time.

  Aerin and Layla were standing outside on the porch, still scanning their phones for more news. I wanted to be alone. It’s hard to have important conversations when people are lurking around listening in. I was recording the conversation, anyway. I’d downloaded an app for that. They could listen to it later.

  Agnus curled up in my lap. I suppose being “alone” didn’t necessarily exclude my cat from my present company. Sure, now that we could communicate, I didn’t have the same sense of privacy when he was around that I used to. Even changing clothes in front of him had become awkward. But having him in my lap while I made the call was comforting.

  “Time to face the music, buddy,” I said, scratching him behind the ears.

  “I was going to ask if I could have the TV,” Agnus said. “But no internet here except for your dumb phones. So, what’s the point?”

  I snorted. “Glad you’re concerned about the things that really matter.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think this is a mistake.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “Politicians are like Siamese Cats.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “Not sure I follow.”

  “Pretty on the outside. Everyone thinks they want one. They parade around, showing off. Then you meet them, and they’re total bitches.”

  “So you’re telling me that the President is a bitch?”

  “Pretty much,” Agnus said. “I mean, how quickly did he turn on you in favor of Brightborn?”

  “Politicians change their views with the wind,” I said. “I’m just hoping to change the direction of the breeze back in my favor. More or less.”

  “If it comes down to it, you’ll have to come back. You can’t let the Furies unleash that earthquake.”

  I scratched my head. “You really think I could stop them? If I can’t get exonerated of the crime, they won’t agree with me.”

  “You have the power of the earth, right?” Agnus asked. “If they’re planning on an earthquake, they’re relying on the element of earth. You have the power to thwart them.”

  “I’d rather not do it that way,” I said. “The goal is ultimately to convince them to break faith with Brightborn. If I’m turning the elements against the Furies, I’ll end up dividing the three guardian races rather than uniting them.”

  “A lot of people are going to die if they unleash that fault line, Caspar,” Agnus said. “You might have to choose between saving lives and fulfilling the prophecy.”

  “That’s why I have to do this,” I said. “It’s the only way to stop the earthquake and also stop Brightborn.”

  “Do you think this lawyer you hired is going to handle the President for you?” Agnus asked.

  I shrugged. “He seems to think we have an argument.”

  “Everyone has an argument,” Agnus said. “Not to mention, he wants Aerin’s money. It isn’t like he’s going to tell you straight up that your case is hopeless.”

  “I realize that,” I said, scratching Agnus’ belly as he rolled over in my lap. “But you’ve watched enough football with me, Agnus. Tell me, if the game comes down to a Hail Mary pass, wouldn’t you take it? The success rate of the Hail Mary is very low. But if it’s the only chance you have to win the game, you take it.”

  Agnus looked up at me and cocked his head. “You realize there’s more than one way to end a game with a win than completing the Haily Mary, right?”

  I cocked my head. “Sure. Technically if there’s a penalty call. Defensive pass interference. It’s a spot foul, and even if the clock runs out, by rule, the game can’t end on a penalty.”

  Agnus looked at me. “That might be how you win this, too, Caspar.”

  I bit my lip. “I’m not sure I follow. What penalty could there be that would give me an out if the President won’t give me a pardon or I can’t get acquitted?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Agnus said. “But in football, a defender usually commits that penalty if he thinks that the other player would score otherwise. When you talk to the President, you need to be confident about your victory. He needs to sense it in your voice. Only then might he feel the pressure and grab onto your jersey.”

  “So you’re suggesting I lure the President into an interference penalty?” I asked.

  “It’s a spot foul,” Agnus said. “If he does that, he might set you up with one play at the one-yard line. All I’m saying is that you need to have a play ready. If the President panics, if he gives you an opportunity to score with no time left on the clock, you need to be ready to take it.”

  I chuckled. “You know, Agnus. You’ve been paying closer attention to all those football games I’ve been watching through the years than I realized.”

  Agnus snorted. “One big play can change a whole game, Casp. So can one bad call. You can go for the big play. You can even win a game benefiting from bad officiating. Maybe you win because even though you fucked up the game plan, the other team fumbled the ball at the wrong time. At the end of the day, a win counts the same no matter how you got it.”

  I nodded. “All true. Just not sure how the metaphor applies specifically to this situation.”

  “I’m just saying,” Agnus said, nuzzling his head into my palm, “there may be more than one way to come away from this with a win. Don’t get so focused on the plan that you miss an opportunity.”

  I chuckled. “I almost forget, sometimes, that you’re a part of all this prophecy stuff, too.”

  “I was one of the first parts of the prophecy that was fulfilled,” Agnus said. “And I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t give you advice.”

  “Have any more gems for me before I call up the President to turn myself in?”

  Agnus looked at me and cocked his head. “Don’t drop the soap.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I set up my app to record the conversation, pulled the card out of my pocket with the direct line to the President printed on it, and dialed the number.

  The phone rang twice.

  “About time you called,” the President said on the other end of the line.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been busy.”

  “I see that,” the President said. “Putting on quite the show, it seems.”

  “I can’t support your alliance with Brightborn,” I said. “I know you were hoping I could speak up, convince those who were a part of the Order of the Elf Gate to back your position, but I just can’t. You realize that Brightborn is using you, sir.”

  There was a brief moment of silence before the President started speaking again. “I realize that, Cruciger.”

  “You do?” I asked. “Then why…”

  “Caspar,” the President continued. “When Brag’mok and Ensley were in my office, they told me all about him. How Brightborn wiped out the giants. Their mistake, the giants’ mistake, was to try and take him down through battle. I’m taking a more diplomatic approach.”

  “He’s just buying time,” I said. “He’s going to turn on you.”

  “Maybe,” the President said. “But I’m counting on the fact that we still have more to learn about him and his legion than he has left to learn of us. If
we try to resist him, fight him now, he’ll have every advantage.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But I have to turn myself in.”

  The President snorted. “You certainly aren’t making things easier for me, Caspar. It won’t look good if you’re facing a federal indictment the day after you made national news for literally saving people’s lives.”

  I chuckled. “Then, perhaps, you’ll have to pull some strings to get me off.”

  The President sighed. “I have to give Brightborn the impression, at the very least, that I’ve stuck to my end of the bargain. If I don’t keep you in custody, Caspar…”

  “You realize you can’t keep me in custody. I could escape at any time.”

  “I understand that,” the President said. “But I’m hoping you’ll play along. We need to get as much information and power from the elves as possible. No matter what you do, you’ll either be a prisoner or you’ll be a fugitive. If you’re going to go the route of playing the fugitive, well. Let's say that harboring a fugitive is a serious charge, and there are several people associated with St. Ensley’s church staying with you on that old farm where you’re at currently who might not fare so well if they try to resist arrest.”

  I sighed. “How do you know where we’re hiding?”

  “I’m the government,” the President said. “Do you really think that using a few burner phones and staying off the grid would be enough? We have our ways, Caspar.”

  “None of these people did anything wrong,” I said. “Leave them out of it.”

  “They haven’t yet,” the President said. “But if you intend to escape custody and any of them help you in even the slightest way…”

  “I get it,” I said. “Aiding and abetting a fugitive. But you are just the President. Isn’t this the sort of thing that the FBI would do? Maybe local law enforcement?”

  The President laughed. “Who appoints the director of the FBI, Cruciger?”

  “All right,” I said. “Fair point. But I’m not confessing to the murder, sir.”