Sunset (Pact Arcanum)

by Arshad Ahsanuddin

  Natalya froze in place. “I beg your pardon?”

  Ana looked up at her, surprised. “The safety field that blocks projectiles from going through the windows. It’s the same principle, only on a much smaller scale. You didn’t know that?”

  “Are you saying those force screens are the same design as those that protect the entire Zone and the Hidden Cities?”

  “Pretty much. The window shields are actually designed to stop missiles, in case the humans decide to attack us. The shield emitter technology is identical, but their power supply is derived from the building’s internal generator. Just don’t try to pry one off the wall to make a study of it, because you’ll trigger a level II lockdown of the entire facility while the security breach is investigated.”

  Natalya swallowed, her mind racing. “I see. That will be most helpful.”

  “Glad to be of service. Thanks for dropping by.”

  Natalya faced Ana squarely. “No, Ana,” she said with great dignity, “thank you.”

  PART VII

  MEETING OF THE MINDS

  CHAPTER 34

  September 2041; Armistice Embassy, Washington, D.C.; Twenty months after public exposure

  The President and First Lady exited their limousine and were immediately surrounded by four Secret Service agents in navy blue tuxedos. Flashes illuminated them as the TV crew and reporter joined them and the group made its way to the embassy entrance. The two Sentinels bowed to them as the solid metal door bearing the seal of the Triumvirate slid silently aside.

  Entering first, two agents examined the area for threats before allowing the rest of the party to enter the large triangular atrium of the lobby. Light from the crystal chandelier glistened off the black marble floors and illuminated four overstuffed white leather couches, but the group did not sit. Instead, they stood in the atrium, waiting for instructions.

  “Mr. President, welcome to the embassy.” Ana entered from the long adjoining hallway, regal in her silver gown and white half-jacket, embroidered with the seal of House Jiao-long and bearing an Armistice Security lapel pin. She reached out a hand in greeting. “We’re honored you chose to accept our invitation.”

  “The chance to see your world for myself was too great an opportunity to pass up,” said President Daniels with a curt nod of greeting. “Will the Ambassador be joining us?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Not right away. Nicholas had to go to Egypt to iron out some final details with the Court of Shadows delegation. It’s my job to greet you and act as your host on his behalf until he returns later.” She turned to Catherine, the First Lady. “Madam First Lady, thank you for coming.”

  She smiled pleasantly. “Thank you for the invitation.”

  Before Ana could even extend her hand to the journalist, the reporter’s hand shot out toward her.

  “Special Agent Nizhoni, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Ana shook her hand. “Thank you for coming, Ms. Bradshaw. As you may know, we asked for you specifically.”

  “So I was told. May I ask why?”

  “We have the utmost respect for your work, and while your specialty is countries outside of the United States we felt your experience with different cultures would help separate human assumptions about us from the reality.”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence.” The reporter’s extraordinarily white teeth flashed from her heavily made-up mouth as she smiled. I’ll do my best to provide a balanced portrayal.”

  Ana laughed. “A balanced portrayal may not be possible; our people tend to extremes. However, we hope you’ll take the time to try to understand our attitudes before you pass judgment.”

  “As I said, I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s all we ask. Good luck with your broadcast.”

  Glancing at the four Secret Service agents, Ana opened her mouth to say something, and then stopped, her expression hardening. “Wait a minute.” She pointed at one of the agents. “Who the hell are you?”

  One of the other agents stepped forward. “Special Agent Nizhoni, I’m Agent Sullivan, in charge of the President’s protection detail. Is there a problem?”

  Ana wheeled to face Sullivan. “You’re damned right there’s a problem. You were authorized to bring three prescreened agents with you: Davis, Hoffman, and Wesley. Is that agent one of those?”

  Sullivan glanced at the agent indicated. “No, that’s Agent Anderson. Agent Wesley was hit by a car this afternoon. He is in the hospital. Agent Anderson is his replacement.”

  “You were required to notify us of any changes to your roster and allow us the chance to conduct a personal interview beforehand, damn it!”

  Agent Sullivan raised his eyebrows at Ana’s obvious fury. “My staff was supposed to inform your security of the change. I assumed the interview was a formality. I can assure you Agent Anderson is quite capable, with a distinguished service record.”

  Ana rubbed her eyes in exasperation. “Command Access.”

  “Online.” The voice came out of thin air.

  “Connect me to security.”

  “Channel open.”

  “Security, were we notified of a change in the roster of the President’s security detail?”

  “No, Ma’am. Why?”

  Agent Sullivan shrugged. “There was probably a breakdown in communication somewhere. I will investigate tomorrow if you like.”

  Ana snarled. “Agent Sullivan, you have no idea what you might have done.” She addressed the air. “Security, who is the strongest Air Sentinel in the building?”

  “That would be Stanton, Ma’am, on Communications Monitor duty.”

  “Tell him to drop whatever he’s doing and get down to the front lobby immediately.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  President Daniels walked forward to stand with Ana and Agent Sullivan. “Is there a problem, Agent Nizhoni?”

  Ana sighed. “Yes, Mr. President, there is.” She waved her hand vaguely at Agent Anderson, who watched in confusion. “The personal interview is not a formality. It’s a vitally important security precaution.”

  Agent Sullivan frowned. “For what purpose?”

  Just then, a man wearing a regular Armistice Security uniform, the half circle on his breast surrounding a white sword, made his way to where Ana and the others were waiting. “Agent Stanton reporting, Ma’am. What can I do for you?”

  “Agent, I need you to take a glance at the President’s security detail.”

  Stanton raised an eyebrow. “Am I looking for anything in particular?”

  “I have a strong suspicion, and I need you to disprove it.” Ana folded her arms. “But I don’t want to bias your examination.”

  Stanton shrugged and looked Agent Sullivan over for a moment. Then he stepped past him to examine the three other Secret Service agents in turn. Pausing at Agent Anderson, he narrowed his eyes and peered closer. Then he sighed and walked back to where Ana was standing. “The last agent is a Sentinel—element Earth.”

  Sullivan spun around in shock to stare at his agent, who took off his sunglasses and gaped at them. “What?”

  Ana’s eyes were fixed on her own agent. “You said Sentinel, not latent. It’s too late, then?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Given the number of Nightwalkers currently in the building, I’ll bet his Gift kindled the minute he stepped through the front door. If I may ask, Ma’am, how the hell did this happen? I thought all visitors were screened for latency before being allowed inside.”

  Ana sighed. “It doesn’t matter now.” She turned back to Sullivan. “I’m going to have to take your agent into protective custody.”

  “Like hell you are!” Sullivan blustered. “You can’t give orders to one of my men.”

  “He’s not one of yours anymore, Agent.” Ana’s remained perfectly calm. “He’s one of mine now. And in a few hours, he’ll know it too.” Stepping past Agent Sullivan, she said, “Agent Anderson, what’s your full name?”

  The man swallowed. “Jackson Vincent Anderson. Am I re
ally one of you?”

  Ana nodded sadly. “Yes, Jackson, you really are. But there’s a problem. Almost half the occupants of this building are vampires, and the VIP guests haven’t even arrived yet. When your Gift manifests fully, your first instinct will be to attack. We have to make sure you can control yourself before we can allow you free rein; otherwise, you’ll be a danger to everyone around you.”

  Sullivan bristled in anger. “Agent Anderson is a United States citizen. You can’t just detain him based on a glance!”

  Stanton rolled his eyes. “The ability to identify an active Sentinel is innate to all Air Sentinels. The others have to use a spell with specific intent to identify each other, but we just know. We can get someone out here to do the standard spellform, if you want confirmation.”

  Sullivan snarled. “This is ridiculous. All we have is your word that he’s going to turn into a Sentinel.”

  Stanton’s eyes glittered with barely suppressed rage. “Are you saying my word isn’t good enough?”

  Anderson raised his hand. “Can I get a word in?” He turned to Agent Sullivan. “Sir, I have no wish to become a security risk. With your permission, I will accept the embassy’s offer of protective custody.”

  Sullivan grimaced. “Honestly, that would probably be best, Jack.” He held out his hand. “Please accept my sincere apologies for placing you in this position.”

  Anderson shook his hand and walked back to Ana. “I’m ready.”

  “Escort our new brother to an interview room and make sure he’s comfortable and under guard before returning to your duties,” Ana instructed Stanton.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” He turned to Anderson. “If you will come with me, brother.”

  Ana watched the two of them walk away, then addressed the remaining humans sternly. “Here’s your first lesson. The rules you live by in the outside world don’t apply here. There are dangers in our world, pitfalls you will never be prepared for, some that can drag you kicking and screaming into the darkness whether you like it or not. We’ll try to afford you as much protection and preparation as possible, but in the end, you have to decide if you wish to take the risk before you go any farther.” She locked eyes with each of them in turn. “If any of you wish to back out now, you may do so without prejudice. This will be your first chance to withdraw.”

  President Daniels looked at the First Lady. She nodded.

  “My wife and I would like to proceed,” he said.

  “Agent Sullivan?” Ana asked.

  “We’ll do our jobs. Just give us a heads up when one of these dangers we don’t know about is heading our way.”

  “We’ll do that.” She turned to the camera crew. “Ms. Bradshaw. Are you and your team up for this?”

  The reporter had been conferring with her staff, but turned to face Ana as she spoke. “We’re in, Agent Nizhoni. All the way.”

  Ana looked the entire group over. “Then all of you please follow me.” She walked into the main hallway, leading them to a white platform at the end. “Please stand on the platform.”

  President Daniels studied the inscribed star design. “What is it?”

  “Short-range fixed-point teleport. It will take you to the lobby of the banquet hall on the top floor. Someone will meet you there to go over the rules for this event. All aboard.” She waved them onto the platform.

  “Group transit to banquet hall level. Execute.”

  The humans gasped as their surroundings turned pure white, and then suddenly they were standing on another platform in a different room. Similar to the front atrium in design, the exit of the new room was closed by a sheet of silver metal embossed with the seal of the Triumvirate. They stepped off the teleport disk and onto the floor.

  “Welcome.” Jeremy said, standing next to the silver wall, in a gray tuxedo embroidered with the seal of House Luscian. Immediately, the three remaining Secret Service agents stepped in front of the President and First Lady, shielding them.

  Jeremy held up his hands, palms out. “Peace, ladies and gentlemen. I am here to explain the rules to you on behalf of your host this evening. I am Agent Jeremy Harkness, Armistice Security.”

  President Daniels stepped out from behind his agents. “Mr. Harkness, you are a wanted fugitive for your part in the Los Angeles incident. Why would we be interested in hearing anything you have to say?”

  Jeremy let his hands drop and his gray eyes assessed the President openly. “Because I am the Sentinel with the most human perspective in the Armistice, sir, and because I have absolute authority over whether you are allowed to pass through this door. Mr. President, if I am not satisfied that you understand what you’re getting into, I will deny you entry.”

  President Daniels frowned. “Are you saying your people are giving me no choice but to cooperate with a terrorist?”

  “There’s always a choice, Mr. President.” Jeremy watched him calmly. “You can turn around and walk away without prejudice. This is your second chance to leave. We will be disappointed you chose not to join us in celebration, but we won’t hold it against you. And you will continue to be invited to other diplomatic functions here.”

  Jeremy clasped his hands behind his back as he stood at relaxed attention. “But if you choose to accept one of those invitations, you will find yourself back before this door and facing me again, every single time, until you listen to what I have to say.” He tilted his head slightly. “From what I’ve heard, you have already lost one of your party to your own ignorance of the risks you face here. It would be a shame to let that sacrifice be for nothing. We are unwilling to let you step into this situation unprepared. The consequences are too high.”

  The President and Jeremy stared at each other silently, locked in a silent battle of wills. Finally, President Daniels spoke through clenched teeth. “Mr. Harkness, you are a terrorist and a felon. I am appalled that your people would put you forward to represent them at such an important event.”

  Jeremy shrugged. “Mr. President, a better question might be whether the event is important enough for you to be allowed to represent your people, despite your objections. I have earned my place here. Whether you are able to do the same remains to be seen.”

  Daniels said nothing for almost a minute, his face darkened with anger. Finally, he gave an almost imperceptible nod and folded his arms. “Say what you need to say, Agent Harkness.”

  “What you have to understand is that the people you are about to meet have tens of thousands of years of experience at fitting into human society, at not standing out from the crowd. Out in your world, they behave and act as humans do, for the most part. Tonight, however, you will be on their turf. They will not be hiding what they are. It is my job to apprise you of the dangers.”

  President Daniels nodded, a clipped movement that exhibited his irritation. “Continue.”

  “The first thing you need to know is how they see humans. Nightwalkers have been hunting you for food and sport through the rise and fall of every human civilization in recorded history, and long before. To them, you are prey, sheep fit only for slaughter or for amusement. Sentinels have had the thankless task of defending you from the worst of their depredations, but even the Sentinels resent you to a certain extent for requiring them to give up their lives for your protection.

  “The decision to invite you to this event has been met with a certain amount of resistance on the part of the Free People. You may be offered insult for that fact.” Jeremy sighed. “The second thing you have to understand is that you must not take such insults personally. If you try to trade barbs with one of our people, it may become the basis for a challenge to a duel.”

  The First Lady’s forehead wrinkled into a frown. “A duel?”

  “We’ll try to avoid that, if possible. However, if combat becomes necessary, it will be important for one of us to be able to fight on your behalf; you would have no chance at all on your own.” Jeremy picked up a small plastic case from the couch beside him. “Would each of you take one of these and put i
t on?” He handed the case to the President.

  President Daniels opened it. It was full of gold medallions, each with the same rune and sunburst design as the symbol embroidered on Jeremy’s jacket. Some had a simple brooch pin in the back; others hung on a length of blue ribbon. Selecting one, he passed the case to his wife, who also chose one and passed the case on.

  “What is this symbol?” the President asked.

  Jeremy waited until everyone, including the TV crew and the Secret Service agents, had selected a medallion before answering. “It is the symbol of the Sun surrounding a word in Arcolin, the common human language when the war between Nightwalkers and Sentinels began. It has been the Seal of House Luscian for thirty thousand years.”

  Ms. Bradshaw’s reporter instincts kicked in. “What is the word in the center of the seal?”

  “The word is ‘death’.” Jeremy stood straighter. “The Seal of Protection declares that you are each under Ambassador Nicholas’ personal protection as long as you wear it. Each seal also contains a psychic inhibitor that will prevent your thoughts from being read by any telepaths of Second Order or lower.”

  Agent Sullivan stepped forward. “I thought this event was being handled by Armistice Security. Why would we need the Ambassador’s personal protection?”

  “Armistice Security is there to prevent any major incidents, and you’re all wearing blue clothing, which marks you as human, so people will cut you a lot of slack. However, in the unfortunate event that something goes bad, wearing this seal gives the Ambassador and members of his house the legal right to defend your honor, if required.”

  “Exactly what do you mean by ‘defending our honor’?” Catherine Daniels looked perturbed.

  “Madam First Lady, you will be the equivalent of a bottle of finely aged wine in a room full of recovering alcoholics. If, for any reason, one of our guests attempts to force you into something against your will, the Seal of Protection gives the Ambassador the right to have the offender taken out and executed. We don’t anticipate it will be necessary, but we want to be prepared.” Jeremy made eye contact with each of them in turn. “Make no mistake, there is always danger, but if you just show respect, you will be fine for the most part. The rest of the time, we’ll be there to back you up. This is your third and final chance to withdraw. After this, there will be no going back. Anyone want to bail at this point?”