The Darkest of Dreams

by Emigh Cannaday

  “This is Cole.”

  “It’s Merri. Is this line secure?”

  “Yes. What’s going on?”

  “Remember when you and Chivanni warned Talvi and I that someone is working against us to protect Stephan’s true identity?”

  “Of course. I’m still working on finding the leak. Whoever it is, they’re very high up. It might even be one of the directors.”

  Merri’s eyes lingered on the officer for another moment before she pulled the sheer curtains shut and started gathering her belongings.

  “I’m not surprised. I think we’re onto something bigger than we realize. We need to find out who’s behind all this, or at least, which department as soon as possible. It’s time I go straight to the source of all this chaos and get some bloody answers. I need to know which military academy Stephan graduated from—and then I need you to help get me inside. Marinossian’s following up on a lead so I’m working alone for now.”

  “I can get you access to the academy,” Cole replied in a bright, optimistic voice. “If I’m remembering correctly, it’s on the outskirts of Berlin.”

  “Yes, a number of finishing schools are set up here to better train students how to blend in with modern people. I attended one in Mumbai.”

  “I know,” said Cole. “Four years of schooling done in half the time, and you were in the top three percent of your class.” Merriweather listened to her type on the other end of the line as she hacked into Stephan’s personnel file…then she listened to her sigh in frustration. “Damn—it turns out that the school Stephan attended is an all-male academy.”

  “Chin up. I was expecting something like that,” Merriweather said. “I thought you might help me create an organization that awards impressive scholarships to the most outstanding cadets—particularly those who emulate the traditional ideals of the Pazachi—without my having to say so. Stephan may have already graduated, but surely he had classmates who are still enrolled.”

  “Ooh, that’s a brilliant idea!” Cole agreed. “We’ll make it a private institution so there are fewer questions for you to answer.”

  “Perfect,” Merri agreed. “Give me a title along the lines of Scholarship Outreach Coordinator, or whatever rolls off the tongue and will let me investigate potential candidates with as little interference as possible. I can’t imagine those young military men would turn down the chance to receive a sizable check, even if it’s a woman handing it over.”

  Cole laughed in such a way that Merriweather could almost see her rubbing her hands together in sheer delight.

  “Yes, I think they would be falling all over themselves if you wrote down an attractive number and showed it to them. I’ll need at least a day or two to get everything set up for you.”

  “One more thing, Cole,” she added before hanging up the phone. “Given that we’re dealing with a saboteur who’s so high up in the ranks, I only want you reporting to Agent Marinossian or myself on this operation. No matter what happens. Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” Cole repeated. “Not a word to anyone but the two of you. No matter what happens.”

  Four months later…

  Cyril Sinclair leaned back in his chair and pulled open his desk drawer, pausing as he let the highlights of the latest intelligence report soak into his brain. He stopped chewing on the end of his cigarette holder just long enough to remove the stubbed out end of the old cigarette and replace it with a fresh one. Then he lit the end and stared across his desk at the junior agent who’d given him the report.

  “I don’t rightly know what astounds me more—the fact that you went completely rogue last summer and have been working undercover out in the field all this time, the fact that Cole was able to fool me into thinking you’d simply gone to visit relatives somewhere in the farthest reaches of Tuzli, or better yet, the fact that you’ve gone to such lengths to prove that we have a traitor in our midst.” He took another elegant puff and then flipped through the pages of her report one more time.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I did things Talvi’s way for a change,” Merriweather said with an intense light in her dark brown eyes. “He’s still my superior, and I certainly wasn’t about to crawl back here with my tail between my legs after he left me in Warsaw. At first, I wondered if it was a test. Then Cole told me what happened to his brother, and I thought it wise to keep my distance from him. At least, for a little while, until the newspaper headlines pursued the next big story. But what if I’d been able to help keep Talvi out of Bleakmoor, or at least get him out sooner? You told me that his family claimed I arrived with him when he came home to get Annika, but I swear to you that I’ve never, ever been to the Marinossian’s home. I’ve certainly never met Finn. I’ve only seen a photo in the paper.”

  Cyril smiled like a man who had more secrets than the Mona Lisa.

  “I didn’t want you anywhere near the trial…for obvious reasons. That’s why I didn’t bother tracking you down. It would’ve put too much at risk to have you testify. Besides—it doesn’t matter now that Finn’s alive,” he said, glancing toward the office door with an impatient look. “I’m waiting on an autopsy report for the sad fellow they buried in his place. Then I’m meeting with Talvi’s attorney. Your timing couldn’t have been better…nor could your story have been any more entertaining. To think that you’ve been masquerading in Germany as a scholarship scout on the hunt for promising young military cadets ever since…I have to salute you for that,” he concluded. He lifted his hand to his head in a casual motion, and Merriweather gave a prim smile and an authoritative salute in return.

  “Yes, sir. You’ve got it all right, for the most part, sir, although I’ve dabbled in a bit of accounting as well. There’s no limit to what ambitious young men will say or do to get ahead,” she said with an air satisfaction. “They wrote the most impassioned, informative essays telling me why they were more qualified than their peers to receive my foundation’s scholarship money. When I spoke to them individually, one name kept coming up again and again regarding who deserved the award. They all knew of one extraordinarily talented cadet whom they could only dream of emulating. Naturally, I was eager to speak with him, but he dropped out of the academy after learning of his parents’ death. I’ve corroborated the information from multiple students and they all told me the same thing—that Stephan came from a family of incredibly powerful Pazachi druids.”

  She leaned forward and flipped to another page in the report.

  “There was no record on file of his parents' names, however, the timing of their death lines up perfectly with the death of Draganos and Zagora,” she said, pointing to a paragraph before sitting back in her chair. “They were killed by Marinossian and his people a little over a year ago. That was approximately one month before Stephan left the academy in late January. And even though we covered up that mess, we didn’t authorize that action,” she said, and flipped to another page. “I found evidence that suggests the Department of Border Security was involved with gathering information about the Pazachi’s location.”

  “Of course they were involved,” Cyril said. There was a tinge of irritability in the tone of his voice. “When the Pazachi tampered with the portals between Eritähti and Earth, that fell under the jurisdiction of Border Security. They were doing their job.”

  “Yes, but Talvi brought a report with him when he returned from hiatus last year. It speculated that this information on the Pazachi’s whereabouts was handed over to none other than a lieutenant of one of the oldest vampire armies left standing.” Merriweather shot him an incredulous look before going on. “Why else would Konstantin have known where to look for a nomadic group of zealots? Director Slichter hired out his department’s dirty work and their hands were left sparkling clean.” She tucked her hair behind her softly pointed ear and crossed her legs as she composed herself. “The last thing Slichter would ever want is for his department to be blamed for creating martyrs. I think he simply wanted their portal-altering creation for his ow
n use. Who better to partner with than an up-and-coming vampire leader?”

  “Those are mere rumors,” Cyril argued. “And of all the vampire families, La Familia Vladislava is the weakest, smallest one.”

  “But they are the oldest,” Merriweather reminded him. “And if the rumors are true, Vladislav won’t be in power much longer. I keep hearing that Konstantin is secretly campaigning to become general. Then he and Slichter can both have what they really want—absolute control over who has access between the two worlds. Slichter can let Konstantin lead our entire vampire population into the modern cities of Earth, and then he can close the portals behind him and keep us isolated and ignorant back home. I wouldn’t be surprised if Slichter or his department is responsible for the fire that destroyed the Paris embassy. I find it very odd that there are so many missing financial records of currency exchanges over the past year and a half, especially given the fact that Slichter argued so strongly that his department should be in charge of it rather than the Department of the Treasury.”

  A darkness entered Cyril’s eyes as he took another pull from his cigarette.

  “These are serious accusations, agent Narayanaswamy,” he said under his breath as he glanced at the folder lying open in front of him. “Right now all you have are strong speculations that are barely stitched together with veritable scraps of information. I’d never call it hard evidence. I can’t take this to the other directors if you don’t have something solid that connects Director Slichter to Stephan’s infiltration of our offices.”

  “He’s too clever to have been the one to sign off on Stephan’s pre-approval,” she said with a frustrated sigh. “When you demoted me last year, you pointed out the fact that I never conducted a proper background check on Stephan. I didn’t think I had to do it again because Director Slichter’s personal secretary all but put Stephan’s file directly on my desk.” Merriweather’s dark eyes flashed in silent anger. She wasn’t the type of person to get over being made a fool of anytime soon. “I fast-tracked him because he already had the stamp of approval, and now I know why he was planted there. Slichter has always been vocal about shutting down the borders between here and the modern world. He doesn’t think our department can effectively regulate who goes in or out. He’s said so for ages!”

  Cyril nodded his head, yet he gave a helpless shrug.

  “Yes, he’s mentioned it on several occasions, but we can’t accuse him of treason simply for disagreeing with how we conduct business. We can’t even sack him for that.”

  “Can we sack him for giving money to Pazachi sympathizers?” she huffed. “The Pazachi feel the same way as he does about isolating the empire from outsiders. It also makes sense for him to stay informed of rising stars at an academy that’s known for accepting a large percentage of students from Pazachi families. Who’s to say that Stephan’s the only graduate he’s ever hired? Although he technically didn’t graduate,” she said, rolling her eyes. This last remark made Cyril raise a curious eyebrow.

  “His records said that he graduated at the top of his class,” he said. “I looked them over personally after we discovered that he’d broken into your office and stolen sensitive information.” Merriweather shook her head.

  “No, he didn’t graduate. His classmates all told me so. They said he left the academy when his parents died. Apparently, it was quite sudden. His former roommate said he had an urgent letter from his sister and he was gone shortly thereafter. Somebody obviously went in later and changed his records to polish them up. There are five months between Stephan’s departure from school and his arrival here. He could’ve met with Slichter in that time. He could’ve met with anyone. We could be surrounded by moles just like him for all we know…all of them waiting for the right opportunity to seize control. There are too many civilians becoming more and more curious about modern people.” She folded her arms across her chest and sat up straighter in her chair. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but Talvi’s trial has put the issue at the forefront of everyone’s minds. They see modern convenience and technology and quality of life, and they want that for themselves.” She glanced down into her lap with a guilty expression. “That’s part of the reason why I wanted to work for the Department of National Security. It’s because I enjoy the quality of life on this side of the portals.”

  “As do I,” her supervisor agreed with the closest impression that Cyril Sinclair would ever do of a sheepish smile.

  “Well, other people want that quality of life, too. There’s a rather large movement started that wants to bring back the mage schools instead of stashing away the higher knowledge in places like this.”

  “Yes. They call themselves Driftwoods, because they are made stronger and more refined by the changing tides.” Cyril shook his head before letting it sink into his hand. “Those who oppose them have adopted the moniker of Ironwoods, because they’re steadfast in their traditional values. They don’t want the changes that the Driftwoods are insisting upon.”

  Merriweather motioned toward Cyril’s books and computer and phone.

  “I know the government has concerns about how powerful both groups are capable of becoming. Unfortunately, you know what happens when you forbid someone from doing something—they only want it more. If Slichter has his way and the government continues to restrict where we’re allowed to travel, who we’re allowed to marry, when we’re allowed to use magic to make life easier, or what we’re allowed to read or study or even think, then we’ll be dealing with significant social unrest in the near future. Perhaps even civil war, if it goes unchecked.”

  She waited for him to reply or simply acknowledge her theories. He only nodded and gently tapped the ashes into a tray that was close to overflowing with cigarette butts.

  “You think I’m blowing things out of proportion, don’t you?”

  “No,” he said quietly. “I agree with every single word you said.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” she asked. “I thought you’d be a little more impressed with all the information that I’ve brought you.”

  Cyril was quiet for a moment as he glanced around his office. It was almost as if he was in search of an answer to come to him from the books resting on his shelves.

  “I am impressed. The trouble is that sometimes getting answers leads to more questions, if not more complications,” he sighed, “and that’s where I believe we’re at.”

  “How so?”

  He resumed chewing on the end of his cigarette holder before drawing in a lungful of smoke.

  “We assumed that we were hunting a doppelgänger all this time, but perhaps we’re not dealing with a doppelgänger at all. If Stephan is indeed the outstanding cadet that you were told about, could he be powerful enough to shift into a human or an elf or any other living creature? That would certainly explain why he hasn’t been on our radar ever since Talvi went home and killed his brother…who consequently has turned out not to be his brother.”

  Merriweather wrinkled her nose.

  “I don’t know…he had a lot of admirers but I didn’t think that druids could turn into anything but one or two animals. I’ve never heard of one being able to shift into another person entirely.”

  “It’s incredibly rare, although it’s not unheard of,” he said quietly. “I was at Finn’s funeral and his body hadn’t changed back to its original form. That ruled out the possibility of a doppelgänger.”

  “Perhaps it takes a bit of time?” she suggested. “Can’t doppelgängers take as long as a few days to revert back to their true selves?”

  “That only happens when it’s extremely cold or they’ve been given a particular poison that slows down all of their body’s functions,” he replied. “I saw the body in question, and even at close to a fortnight, his own mother couldn’t tell the difference. If Stephan was the one who went after Talvi, it would explain the reason for having a white knife in his possession.”

  “What’s the significance of the knife being white?” Merriweather asked
.

  “The Marinossians have a family friend who is a druid, and he was quite insistent that this knife held much more weight than we were assigning to it. Now I know why…if this theory is proven to be true. The simplest explanation is often the correct one.”

  Merriweather nodded.

  “Yes, I did notice a number of the cadets with Pazachi ties carried white knives. Although most of the druids had them by that age. It’s more symbolic than meant for fighting. I think the double edge is supposed to represent the balance of Mother Nature. She can be kind and cruel; she gives us darkness and light; she gives everything life and then takes it away.”

  Cyril gave an offhand nod as he took Merri’s report into his hands. He narrowed his eyes while he flipped through the pages, then frowned as he set it back down after an unsuccessful search.

  “You mentioned that Stephan left the academy after he received a distressing letter from his younger sister,” he began. “Do you recall her name?”

  “No,” Merriweather said. But instead of shrugging in defeat, she reached into her bag and pulled out a thick file of papers. She opened up a folder and found a well-weathered sheet of paper, which was passed across the desk to her supervisor. “I have a note here that it began with a D. That’s all Stephan’s roommate could tell me.”

  Cyril immediately turned to his computer and began typing at a furious pace.

  “If Stephan’s parents are in fact Draganos and Zagora, then I know who his sister is. She’s fifteen years old. Her name is Denalia.” He turned the monitor around to face Merri’s astonished face as she leaned forward and read it for herself. “If you’ll recall the report that Marinossian brought with him after his hiatus, it specifically says that the Pazachi daughter of Draganos and Zagora was taken prisoner by members of his group; a paladin, a samodiva, and a vampire, to be precise. When I was at Finn’s funeral, I met with the paladin who was in charge of guarding Denalia. He told me that she was lost in the middle of a terrible snowstorm and that she was presumedly dead. His party never found her body. He assured me that it was too treacherous to search for her in the whiteout conditions and that there was no way a teenage girl could have survived in the freezing temperatures.”