by TR Cameron
Inside, a man in a suit opened boxes for the masked robber who transferred their contents into a wide bag. Given the lack of sophistication of the operation, the troll half expected to see a huge white dollar sign on the black sack, but it wasn’t quite that cartoonish. There were no shadows to hide in, so his timing would have to be perfect. Obviously, the police couldn’t move against those above without putting the innocent man in the vault in danger, so it was up to him to act.
He waited until the criminal shifted to empty the next container. In the moment his head was turned away, Rath hurtled around the desk and angled for the doorway. His feet slapped against the hard tile of the vault floor loud enough to be noticed, and the man pivoted and the gun in his near hand arced sideways toward the troll. His foe’s face filled with shock as it rotated to see what approached, and Rath vaulted, led with his feet, and aimed for his target’s mouth.
The man drew in a breath to shout, but the troll’s heels impacted with his jaw and cut his warning short. He fell in a heap and the pistol spun from his hand to careen across the vault and thunk into the containers on the far side. Rath landed beside him and pivoted to kick him in the temple so he wouldn’t get up. His eyes rolled back in his head, and the troll stared at him. Idiot. Should have had backup. The fact that he was downstairs alone occurred to Rath, but then he grinned. I have a partner. He’s on the lookout upstairs.
He turned to face the stunned bank employee and raised a finger to his lips. The hostage nodded and looked pale, so the troll patted the ground beside him and gestured for him to sit. He complied and ran a trembling hand through his thinning hair. Rath thought he looked a little like a younger Vincent Price from the horror film channel. He tossed a pair of nylon ties at his feet, pointed at the downed enemy, and received a nod in return.
Satisfied that the bank employee would make sure the criminal was secured, he turned away and crept into position behind the desk to study the stairs. There was nothing to see from that vantage point, unfortunately. He tapped the button to activate his mic and asked, “Update?”
Kayleigh replied instantly. “The police are on the phone with one of them. He’s yelling a lot and has threatened to kill the hostages. They can’t get a clean shot because he’s hiding behind the civilians. They’ll send some officers around to the back entrance, although they expect it’ll be watched since the criminals know the police are on scene.”
“Maybe not. Amateurs.”
“I’ll make sure they know that. Is there anything else I should tell them?”
“One downstairs. Knocked out.”
“Okay, stay out of the way and let the police do their thing.”
“Will.” He clicked his microphone off and crept up the stairs to see what was going on. The scene was the same, although the man who had gathered the money was no longer visible. He took a couple more steps to get a better angle, but the criminal wasn’t behind either of the counters. He realized that staying on the staircase was a terrible plan, but had no idea where to go since he didn’t know the other enemy’s location.
A loud noise at the rear of the building was immediately followed by the sound of gunfire. Rath heard noise from the street side as well and crept higher when he saw a black shadow flit across the top of the stairs. He continued and peered through the railing at an angle. The man who had been near the front now faced the back. The robber held a gun to the temple of a terrified older woman, someone probably Professor Charlotte’s age. Incoherent screaming resulted in a stalemate, and the criminal threatened to kill her in thirty seconds if the police didn’t leave. The officers remained in place and continued to try to reason with him.
In his ear, Kayleigh murmured, “They apprehended the second man on the way in, but they don’t have a clean shot on the third one from the front. They’re worried his gun might fire if their shot isn’t perfect. The situation is stuck for the moment as no one will buckle.”
He whispered as softly as he could, “Tell them not to react.”
“Done.”
Rath took a deep breath, judged the angles, and climbed carefully onto the marble banister that ran along the stairs. He walked it to the top, then turned and used it as a runway to race forward and launch as high and as far as he could. He drew his batons in mid-air, flicked the left one out to full extension, and hurled the other one down and to the right.
The metal weapon clattered on the marble floor, and the man ahead of him jerked his head around. The troll’s extended baton struck the gun and shoved it away from the woman, and when the criminal pulled the trigger, the round fired harmlessly into the corner of the room. Rath careened into the robber and the railing at the same time. His adversary pitched forward on his face, and the troll flipped over the obstruction to land awkwardly on his side. He rolled left as soon as he recovered his wits, out of the way of the swarm of police officers who charged the downed thief.
He rose slowly and painfully to his feet, careful not to appear as a threat. The woman seemed stunned as she was led away by a pair of policewomen. Rath moved quietly toward the rear exit, collected Max from the office, and headed to the door. “Could have used a bark there maybe, partner. I think you need a comm.” He looked back once before he exited, and one of the SWAT troopers gave him a thumbs-up. With a brief nod in response, he departed before anyone decided to stop him for a chat.
A half-hour later, he was in the antique shop drinking tea with Manny, who congratulated him on the successful operation after Rath explained why he was late. The old man looked at him with a smile in his eyes and said, “Young Troll, if the Griffins were still around, there is no question that you would be one of them.”
Rath grinned and thanked him. More like, if the Griffins were still around, they’d want to join BAM.
Chapter Twenty
The coin had begun to burn two hours before when Sarah was out handling sensitive negotiations with a supplier that had required her direct attention. Her lieutenants had both attempted to solve the issue, but the man with the weapons they needed had been steadfastly unwilling to come down to an acceptable price. He no doubt considered himself a capable businessperson, able to sense when his clients were under time pressure and take advantage of it and them.
Fortunately, the man’s second in command had been far more reasonable after witnessing the shadow tentacles tear the man apart and spread the pieces around the storage garage that was their meeting place. The woman had simply removed the dress shirt she’d worn over a tank top, used a clean part of it to wipe the remains of her former boss from where they’d splashed her neck, and thrown the garment aside before she asked, “So, what would you consider an appropriate price?”
Despite the opportunity to use the new situation to their own advantage, Sarah had stood firm on her previous offer and the bargain had been struck. The woman’s underlings packed the truck for the transit to the warehouse, but formalities required her to stay and oversee the transaction to its conclusion, conscious all the while of the warmth of the metal where it lay against her chest.
She considered herself fortunate that the wizard could not—or had not chosen to—increase the heat with each minute that passed before her response. I would have. And if I couldn’t, I would have figured out how to and then done it. She had ordered her lieutenants to call their underlings together as soon as possible, then pulled Wysse aside to drive her, leaving Mur to ride with the truck, and they had made haste to the main base. The weapons would be delivered to a holding point where their own people would then take possession of them. Secrecy was important, even from one’s alleged allies.
Sarah walked calmly but with a purpose through the warehouse, already filled with the quickest responders or those who happened to be nearest when the call came. A couple of individuals offered respectful nods that she returned, but she didn’t deviate from her direct path toward the steel stairs leading upward. She maintained her pace, stepped up two at a time, then closed, locked, and warded the door behind her. With much b
etter protection spells than Vincente ever used, that’s for sure.
It was the work of a couple of minutes to prepare both herself and the objects required for communication. She took a deep breath and arranged the strands that had come loose from her long ponytail behind her ears and slid the coin into the depression. The magic flowed upward, climbed the twisting spiral of the statuette, and formed into the form of Dreven, who was her conduit to the will of the Remembrance. For now, anyway, until I find someone more…amenable to my particular perspective.
His voice was deep, arrogant, and excited. “Sarah.”
“Dreven, sir.”
“Everything is in place, as we discussed. Are your people ready?”
She nodded. “They are on their way here as we speak.”
The tiny image paced a small circle before her, its face still hidden from view. “Excellent. You must be in transit within two hours in order to meet the deadline.”
“We can be. What is our objective?’
“You are to travel to Philadelphia, to a location that will be shared with you en route. At about nine-thirty, you’ll mount an attack at a public event. The call will go out to scramble their Anti-Enhanced Threat force, and probably the city’s Special Weapons and Tactics troops. Possibly, if we have good fortune, the Paranormal Defense Agency may make an appearance as well. When they arrive, you and your people will destroy every last one of them.”
She grinned and the idea generated a wash of pleasure that started at her toes and warmed every inch of her on its way to her brain. “Thank you for this opportunity. We won’t disappoint you.”
He raised thin hands to lower his hood so she would be able to see his face. He grinned, a bloodlust that matched her own visible in his expression. “You must not fail. The consequences would be beyond dire. This is but the first of a series of actions, but a setback in any of them might derail the entire plan. Understand that failure will result in the elimination of any who manage to survive the encounter.”
A bite of sarcasm entered her voice as she spoke. “So, in other words, come home with our shields, or on them?”
He offered a slight bow of acknowledgment, but his eyes never left hers. “As historical references go, it is apt.”
She nodded. “Understood.”
“Good. After this, we have something even bigger planned for your city. But more on that once you have successfully completed this task. Go now, and expect instructions when you arrive. Another underling of mine, Nehlan, will coordinate the evening’s activities. Obey him as you would me.”
The image vanished suddenly, and she kept her expression neutral until the statue and coin were again locked away. Then she snorted. Obey him as I would you. As if. I will, as always, make my own choices. Hopefully, our wills will be aligned this night.
She headed to the door to hurry the weapons shipment along. The items were required sooner than expected, which in the end was to everyone’s benefit. As long as they made it to the objective when they were supposed to.
When they’d been called back only hours after the morning training session, Sloan knew something was up. It had been almost a week since the meeting he’d attended at the HQ, and most of the intervening time had been spent practicing tactical maneuvers to turn the magical and non-magical groups of Sarah’s followers into a team. Well, two sets of people who can work together for short periods, anyway. That’s not really my definition of a team.
Teddy had picked him up outside the bar since the fiction was that Tommy Ketchum couldn’t yet afford his own wheels, which put him further under the power of those above him. Sloan took some consolation in the fact that they seemed to find it almost as annoying as he did. The man’s decrepit sedan wheezed as it climbed the small hill to the warehouse, and the tires spun a little as they lost traction in the gravel. It knocked and pinged for several seconds after they closed the doors and started walking toward the entrance.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Everyone had the same excited vibe, the expectation that something big was about to happen. Sloan cast about for Mur and saw him standing at the base of the stairs, speaking with the lead witch. He poked Teddy. “Look at that.”
The man followed his gaze and coughed to cover the choking sound he made. He turned and faced away from them. “She gives me the creeps, man. It’s like she wants to crawl into the boss’s skin or something.”
“Mur’s?”
“Hell no. The boss boss. Sarah.” He shuddered visibly as he said her name.
Sloan nodded. “I know how you feel, man. I’m totally right there with you. Any idea what’s going on?”
He hadn’t brought it up in the car and had simply played dumb. He guessed that Teddy was both in the dark and scared because of it, and he wasn’t doing much better. The other man shook his head. “Mur texted, said get everyone down here and be ready to move tonight.”
Sloan cursed inwardly. It was a moment of decision, and he was still worried after the little witch had identified the turncoat and the big witch had brought about his demise. He pulled out the low-end smartphone he carried, called up the keypad, and dialed in a ten-digit code. The phone blanked and was now essentially bricked—no one would be able to get anything from it as the data would permanently scramble itself. It remained good for only a single thing—transmitting what it heard in tiny encrypted packets onto a specific Internet site, one monitored by Kayleigh and her AI.
If the transmission was discovered, he could say he’d picked the phone up and found it broken, which would give him some weak deniability. Any examination would conclude it was only a damaged cell trying to get a signal from the nearest tower. The feed would also act as a location beacon as the device would constantly transmit. He’d carried similar devices on undercover assignments before but had never needed to use one. Maybe I’m overreacting. The likelihood that anyone would be capable of discovering my secret is minimal, at best.
The black-clad witch appeared at the head of the stairs and walked down slowly. She gazed at them possessively, like they were a herd of cattle. Or pawns on a chessboard. Likely sacrifices, either way. She stopped halfway down, where every eye in the room would have a good look at her, and her presence was such that every eye was locked on her. Teddy nudged him, but he ignored the man and kept his gaze glued to the woman.
“People, it is finally time to put all the excellent training you’ve done into practice. We are called upon tonight for one of the most important tasks we have ever been given. We have the honor of making the first move in a larger offensive, and at the end of it all, there will be abundant rewards for everyone.”
A half-hearted cheer rose but quickly fell silent. She didn’t seem to notice the interruption. “There is some room in a couple of trucks for those who want to ride inside. Otherwise, we take individual cars. We are headed across the state to strike at an enemy that has long interfered with the actions of people of power here on Earth. Under the guise of law and order, they have repeatedly oppressed our kind, both those of us with magic and those of us who choose not to follow all of society’s weak rules.”
She was stirred up and spoke quicker as she delivered her speech, and the crowd responded to it. Damn, she has charisma in proportion to her crazy. That’s so not good. He wondered if there was a way for him to slip out and had gotten as far as looking around for an exit before she said the words that sealed his immediate fate. “Get to the vehicles now. We are headed for Philadelphia, and before we leave the City of Brotherly Love…” Her tone was viciously mocking. “We will turn one of their most famous icons into nothing but rubble, dust, and blood.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Kayleigh had put the call out as soon as Sloan’s phone went into ghost mode and the team was assembled to check gear and await the command to deploy. Diana was eager for the same, ready to go another round with the scary witch who’d taken charge of the criminal organization when BAM had captured their leader.
For now, though, she waite
d for the monitors in front of her to light up with feeds from the other essential participants in the afternoon’s discussion. The one on the left illuminated first to show the concerned face of Carson Taggart, Special Agent in Charge of ARES. Next, the one on the far right activated, and she grinned to see Bryant, even in this circumstance. He responded with a smile and a professional nod. Sure, sure, pretend to be all supervisory. After rounds of drinks with you, I know what you’re really like.
The middle display came to life with the image of a concerned-looking woman. She wore the uniform of the Philadelphia Anti-Enhanced Threat team. She had short black hair, only an inch or so on top and shaved on the sides. Diana guessed she was in her early to mid-thirties by the few lines that showed on her makeup-free face. Her features were sharp, and her entire demeanor echoed the look. “Thanks for taking the time for this call. I’m Kendra Michaeli. What’s going on?”
Taggart, as the initiator of the conference, took the lead. “Our Pittsburgh bureau has received credible information that there will be an attack in your city today. All we are sure of is that it will be something big. Our intelligence intercept caught the word ‘icon,’ but our analysts caution that it could simply be hyperbole.”
The woman nodded. “We deal with threats like this every day. What makes this one such a cause for concern?”
Bryant replied, “The nature of the opposition. They have worked on a regional basis before and attacked simultaneously in several cities. In this case, they appear to be bringing help in from other locations to act against yours. That is something you should be highly concerned about.”
