by TR Cameron
Cara stepped beside her and made a rude gesture at their enemy. “You think too much of yourself, bitch.”
The witch laughed, and her henchmen followed suit. One of the laughs sounded familiar, and Diana’s eyes widened as she really looked at the rifle-wielder on the far left for the first time. It was Sloan, his expression deeply worried. He probably has an idea that it might be us but can’t be sure because of the masks. Dammit. I should have seen this coming and set up a password. I suppose if necessary, I’ll break his cover so he can assist in defeating them.
The witch pointed at Cara. “You die first.” As if it was a command, all the enemies attacked at once. Sloan’s rifle barked but was angled up so it didn’t hit anything. The incoming rounds deflected from the shield that Diana threw in front of her and Cara, but the move left her unguarded against the shadow orbs that curved around the opposite side and powered into her. Her vest absorbed the magic and shattered all her deflectors at once. The energy was enough to thrust her backward. Damn, that wench is strong. Well, she’s not the only one.
The other witch had attacked Cara and lightning reached over, under, and around Diana’s shield to wreath her in power. Her second in command was preserved from damage by the deflectors until the shield fell and the enemy’s magic went to work on the resistors. A pistol round from a perfect angle avoided the barrier and caught her vest, and she spun away to fall heavily. Diana raised her carbine, flicked it to full auto, and depressed the trigger with a shout.
Both witches summoned shields to block the rounds as the barrage swept over them, but they weren’t Diana’s target, merely along the gun’s path to the one she really aimed at. The man had raised his rifle toward Cara. He seemed reluctant but did it just the same. Her bullets jerked him back and he collapsed as her weapon clicked empty. Three or four, anyway. He’s out of the fight.
She let the carbine fall and flicked her hands out to attack the bald pistol-wielder with a burst of force that hurled him back against the far shadow wall. It sizzled as it met his flesh and dragged a scream of pain from him. Without meeting Sloan’s eyes, she yanked his rifle away and hurled it into the magical barrier behind her. He wisely ducked out of the midst of the battle and evened the odds.
Cara stepped beside her again. The woman’s vest still smoked from the lightning it had absorbed and dissipated. Her voice was filled with scorn. “You people aren’t very good at this, are you? Poor leadership, I assume.” The weak taunt hit home, and Sarah scowled. Diana dug within for her fire, coaxed her power forward, and allowed it to flow and gather without releasing it. The pressure built inside her, like fighting to hold your breath when you desperately needed to take another. The enemy leader said something, but she couldn’t hear it. When the witches raised their wands together, she sighed with pleasure and set the energy free.
She thrust her hands forward in a double straight punch, and fireballs erupted from her fists, one aimed at each of the remaining opponents. There was no time for them to cast, distracted as they were by Cara’s efforts to occupy their attention. The flaming spheres expanded as they traveled the short distance to their targets, and the witch on the left was engulfed. Her shout of alarm transformed into a scream of agony as the flames covered her. She dropped and rolled to put them out but the magical assault proved impervious. The witch fell silent and the blaze still did not cease until nothing remained but ash. It took only seconds.
Diana was so entranced by the unexpected and horrific spectacle that she didn’t register the effects of the attack on their other adversary. Fortunately, Cara did and knocked her legs out from under her before the witch’s counterattack could make impact. The steel beam the woman had ripped from the ceiling whipped through the space her head had occupied. Diana jerked her gaze back to Sarah and saw that an aura of flame covered her, separated from her skin by a thin barrier of shadow. Her lips were pulled away from her teeth in intense anger as the fire fought to reach her and the darkness prevented it.
The witch raised the beam again with a gesture from her wand, and Diana summoned her telekinesis to hold the giant metal object suspended over them so the woman couldn’t attack them with it. She siphoned off some of her magic—all that wasn’t needed to keep them safe—and gathered it for a force attack in the hope that she could knock Sarah off balance and make her lose focus on the attempt to destroy her and Cara.
Suddenly, the pressure ceased and the beam spun away. The witch made a strange movement with her free arm and in almost the same moment, held a wand in each hand. She gestured upward, and dust filtered down as the roof creaked. When she twirled the second wand to create a portal beside her, Diana released the force bolt. The witch made a final movement with her other wand to strike from top to bottom, and the ceiling above them shattered and fell. Diana’s last image of the woman was her skipping into the rift with a triumphant grin.
In the seconds before the steel, wood, and stone of the mezzanine roof crushed them, Diana created a force shield over her and Cara. They were already conveniently intertwined from the other woman’s flying tackle. She raised another over Sloan as he dove on top of the bald man who had staggered beside him. Then she lost sight of everything except dust and debris, and the only sound was the roar as the ceiling descended upon her.
It took almost a full minute to settle and after another minute to be sure it was all truly over, Diana threw off the collapsed structure with her force powers to free herself and Cara from the wreckage the witch had dropped on them before she’d portaled out. Dozens of feet away, Sloan supported the older bald man as they ran back toward where the enemies had come from. “Did anyone see if Sloan was wearing a vest?”
Kayleigh responded immediately. “I have him on a drone. He is.”
“Front and back?”
“Yes.”
“Croft, shoot him in the vest. Shoulder.”
“What?”
Diana looked at Cara, who shifted her rifle forward in reflexive obedience to the order. “We have to keep his cover intact. There’s no way he wouldn’t have been hurt.”
Cara growled something unintelligible and laid on her stomach to sight carefully. Diana magnified her lenses, ready to cast a spell if anything went wrong. She focused hard to summon her magic and deliberately slowed time as the bullet left the barrel. It rocketed toward their teammate, and although she was prepared to nudge the round in one direction or the other, additional action proved unnecessary. She released her magic and collapsed, spent, as the projectile impacted his shoulder and pitched both him and his companion to the ground.
The team’s Face staggered to his feet and pulled the other man with him. They reached the exit and stumbled out of sight. Diana managed to mutter, “Good shot,” before she lost consciousness.
Chapter Twenty-Five
In the week that followed the operation in Philadelphia, Sarah had been sullen, Mur had been maudlin, and Teddy had vanished, most likely among the dead in the attack. When they arrived at the warehouse, she had been waiting and seemed dismayed to discover how few of her followers had returned. She’d thanked Mur for his work, mumbled something about needing to replace Wysse, and disappeared out the front door to walk away into the night.
There was no contact from the organization for several days after that. When he did receive a call, it was confirmation from Mur that Teddy hadn’t survived. He informed Sloan that he’d been promoted and was now his number two man, which would have been impressive if there was anyone left to lead. There was only one remaining member of the old gang, and he’d climbed into a bottle the day after the battle and probably wouldn’t climb out anytime soon, if ever.
Sloan rotated his arm with a wince. He wasn’t sure at first who’d shot him as he couldn’t see through all the dust and debris and had wondered if he’d been wrong about who they were fighting. But when he picked up his replacement phone from the Post Office box they’d arranged when he went undercover and made contact with Diana, she’d confirmed that it had been Cara a
nd a deliberate choice to help maintain his cover.
That plan paid dividends, as the injury sustained while rescuing him put Sloan solidly in Mur’s confidence. Since that first call, Mur and he spoke regularly and the ARES team listened in. The man complained a lot but also talked about the possibilities that opened up as the Remembrance focused ahead. He’d told Sloan to wait outside the bar at a certain time, and he’d agreed.
When he pulled up in a new pickup truck, far nicer than the one he had owned, Sloan was genuinely surprised. He climbed into the cab and slammed the door behind him. “Nice ride, Mur. Did you win the lottery or something?”
The bald man was dressed better than before, too. All in black again, but better quality fabrics. Less blue collar, more white collar. Heh. Let’s call the style powder blue. His face was where the most notable difference was visible, though. Before, he’d been generally cheerful and not particularly confident. He’d been more focused on showing he was a leader than actually being a leader. His time with Sarah had changed that. Mur had proven to himself and others that he was up to the task of running the human side of the group while the other leaders were imprisoned, and he carried that knowledge with him. It caused him to sit straighter and to meet Sloan’s eyes more readily. Frankly, it looked good on him. Too bad you work for a totally evil sleazeball.
His voice was the same, with its ever-present edge of humor. “No, only some payment for our efforts so far and decided it was time for an upgrade.”
“So, you bought it legit?”
Mur chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far. It’s used but only slightly and may have been erroneously reported as destroyed to the insurance company.”
Sloan laughed. “Ahhhh. Nice scam.”
“It is, isn’t it? You can’t do it too often, but it seemed like the right moment since I have a friend in an insurance company and a friend in the DMV.”
“You have a lot of friends these days.”
Mur looked at him, a serious expression on his face. “You do too, Tommy, after what you did in Philly.” He turned to watch the road. “It’s not write-your-own-ticket level friendship or anything, but you’re on your way up. Keep yourself pointed in the right direction, and you’ll be good. I told Sarah all about your efforts there at the end.”
The fight had been an absolute nightmare for him. He’d been unable to warn anyone and unable to stop it from happening. He hadn’t even been informed of the whole plan and so had no idea it was actually a trap to destroy the AET and possibly the PDA in the city until it unfolded. And I still don’t know why we did it. Honestly, it doesn’t make any sense.
He realized he was shaking his head, too deep in his thoughts, and covered it with a comment. “Nah, man, I didn’t do anything special. I was only looking out for my own.” He had done so in truth and fired always over the heads of those he aimed at and on a couple of occasions, saved those around him from immediate death by pulling them out of the way of attacks.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been in the situation where he had to act against his own side in the short term as an investment for the long term, and he tried not to let it bother him too much. As long as he didn’t actively hurt anyone and didn’t help others to do so, his conscience was generally okay with it. There were one or two times when he’d strayed way too close to the line, and once he’d had to do exactly what Cara did—short-term damage to solidify his cover. The officer whose arm Sloan had broken never really forgave him for it, though.
Mur pulled into the gravel lot after a few minutes of silence. He killed the engine, which obediently ceased operation and lapsed into silence. The leader looked forward without moving. “You know, Tommy, I think whatever we’re about to do, it’ll be even huger than the Philadelphia thing. Which is scary.”
He nodded, careful not to break the spell in case the man revealed something valuable.
Mur shrugged. “Think about it. We blew the hell out of a baseball stadium. How can we go bigger? That’s the question. But still, that’s the impression I get from her.”
Sloan barked a laugh and lightened his tone against the ice that materialized in his stomach at Mur’s words. “Is she any less scary when you know her better like you do?”
The bald man turned to him and shook his head gravely. “No. Far, far more scary. The more sense you have of what she’s capable of, the more you realize you do not want to piss her off. Ever. In any way.”
He swallowed hard. “Right. Point taken.”
“Let’s get inside.” They walked side-by-side through the open sliding door of the warehouse, which was notably emptier of both people and things than before their efforts across the state. At the bottom of the stairs stood a dark-skinned witch with large gold hoop earrings, spiked neon blue hair that was shaved on the sides, and the odd fashion choice of a scarlet kimono with a dragon on it overtop a black tank top and matching jeans. Her arms were folded over her chest, and her black wooden wand tapped the opposite arm every so often like a threat to those around her or one side of a conversation only she could hear.
Sloan nodded at her. “New top witch?”
Mur gave a grunt that he took as affirmation. She didn’t seem likely to be as fawning as Wysse had been, and he couldn’t say he was upset that the alleged empath was no longer among them.
A loud bang sounded from the second floor as the door struck the metal walls of the office and once again, Sarah entered the presence of her underlings with a reminder of how far above them she was. She descended halfway, reviewed the people before her, and stepped down another few steps. Her face looked gaunter than it had previously, and her eyes more furious and energetic. Her hands twitched as she stood in silence, clenched into fists, and relaxed, again and again. I wonder if she realizes she’s doing it. I wonder if she realizes anything that happens outside her own head.
“My people. You have persevered through challenges to be here. You have seen the loss of your friends, of our brothers and sisters who sacrificed themselves to advance the goals of the Remembrance. I am here to tell you that it was worth it. It continues to be worth it. Our success in decimating the authorities in Philadelphia has proven our value to those above us.”
Sloan frowned. She sounds crazier than usual. And that’s seriously saying something.
“We have been rewarded with our biggest task yet, one that will launch us to the top of the groups fighting to continue the ideals of Rhazdon, fighting to claim our rightful places on both Oriceran and Earth.”
Wow. Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you, lady?
“Soon—very soon—we will receive the tools we require to make our next accomplishment a success. It will take effort, of course. It will take loyalty. It will take all the power and ability present in this room to ensure our ultimate success. But we can do this. We will do this.” She pointed a finger at them and swept it across the room. “The first step is to find more warriors, more people who believe as we do. In the past, I have refrained from doing so for fear of our secrets escaping. But no longer. Now, as we are about to come into the light, it is time to abandon those restrictions.”
That’s not good.
“Go, now. Go out to those you know, to those people who crave more, who desire a greater say in their lives and who need the life-changing opportunity our vision offers. Bring them to me two days from now, and we will judge them, appoint them, and make our plans together with them.
“Soon, my people, we shall be ascendant. So it has been promised, and so it shall be.” She turned with a flourish and stalked up the stairs. No words were spoken until the door had slammed shut, and even then, the crowd was largely quiet as they filed out. He opened his mouth to speak to Mur, but the other man shook his head.
The return trip to the bar was silent. When he climbed out of the truck and headed for home, there was only a single thought in Sloan’s mind. I have to warn the team that something enormous is on the way.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Diana had spent the w
eek following the events in Philadelphia while healing. Nylene had left the kemana and visited her at home to chide her for expending her power too freely. When she’d protested that the enemy had more or less dropped a baseball stadium on her head—okay, some exaggeration, but still—the Drow had merely given her a stern look and reminded her that perhaps it would be smarter not to get into such situations in the first place.
Well, it’s not like she’s wrong, per se.
She’d stayed at home mostly, and although she’d communicated with the others electronically, she’d generally rested. When her physical strength returned after a couple of days, she started jogging and did some light sparring with Rath, but the truth was that she had taken a significant amount of bruising in the last few months and it had caught up to her. So, when fate or the universe or whatever granted her in-between time, she took it.
Then the downtime ended, and it was game on again. The change started with a call from Kayleigh. “Dead drop marker was up today.” After the action at the baseball stadium, there was no word from Sloan after the initial contact and they had assumed he was probably worried about whether his cover was blown and so kept things on the straight and narrow. He hadn’t sent an alarm code, and they’d tracked his movements through the device, all of which looked more or less normal.
Yesterday, the equipment placed him at the warehouse again, so they’d anticipated there might be some form of communication. He didn’t put the phone into ghost mode, an indication that he felt reasonably safe. As safe as an undercover agent among a group of renegade magicals led by a witch whose mind was broken in the World in Between can be, anyway. Diana had spent the time since then waiting for the other shoe to drop, and the marker was it.
They sent Cara out as her fieldcraft was good and she was generally the least visible of them. Diana arrived at the core before she returned with the note, a series of numbers corresponding to words on a specific webpage—in this case, one dedicated to the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. A book-based cipher for the electronic age. When Alfred decoded it, the message read only, Something big afoot in the near future in our city. Recommend maximum caution.
