by Dana Cameron
It was remotely possible I could remove all Fangborn powers everywhere. That would be one way of resolving the issue with the Normals. Everyone the same, all over again. But I couldn’t just save the Fangborn from Carolina and then leave them powerless to face the Makers. Or maybe I could download all of my abilities to the Fangborn. That would be another way to resolve things, but I didn’t think that adding a load of superpowers to the mix would help.
No. Too radical, too visible a change. It had to be something no one, or virtually no one, knew about. I knew it had to be something I did to the Fangborn. Something to help, something small. I’d been making the most of small things all my life. Crumbs—of information, of kindness—can take you a very long way if you know what to do with them.
This was worse than the hypothetical question, “If you had five seconds to change the world, what would you do?”
I suddenly hated hypotheticals—the people who asked and answered them were just fooling around, toying with what was now my real responsibility.
I walked over to the window and looked out. Quarrel was there, soaking up the sun and sleeping. I could see wisps of steam—I hoped it was steam, and not acid vapor—rising from his mouth, which I supposed meant he was snoring. Naserian was helping out, rooting out a bunch of stones and moving them. We would have to bring over heavy equipment to do more of the construction, but for now, Naserian was happy to assist, or so she said. Until I could find them a place of their own—I was officially responsible for them now—I’d have to let them do pretty much what they wanted to keep from getting bored. A bored dragon was a dangerous dragon.
Seeing the copy of the Orleans tapestry prophecy, the one I’d learned about in Venice that said whoever claimed the golden disc hidden there would “unchain” the Fangborn, got me thinking about the nature of prophecies. Everyone always described oracles as tricky: They gave predictions that were either unintelligible or so vague as to be generalities. No one in any book I’d ever read ever had any luck with prophecies, either. Just thinking about examples of unhappy prophecies didn’t give me much more confidence or more of a clue. Predictions are usually described as obscure, almost legalistic, so that they were riddles. A play of words, a loophole, and the fabric of prophecy was undone.
I figured that something, some bit of memory or information, had been passed down through the ages, and been transformed into a prophecy. I had to consider whether it was a garbled message from the Makers. Someone was trying to tell me something, and I had to figure out what it was.
I had choices. I could “fix” the Fangborn, make them over into what the Makers intended. I could make them into something else. I could subjugate the human race, which is what I assumed the Administrator meant by “my people.” I couldn’t do nothing.
What about the Makers? Could I banish them from our collective psychic and/or physical presence? Right. That would be like trying to push a grizzly bear out of your way—not realistic and truly unwise. Should I attack them, maybe bite them so hard they would think twice about coming back to haunt us? I had no idea about the scope of their power; what they’d shown me should be warning enough.
It was a horrible idea—the repercussions would be ghastly—but I could not scratch it off my too-short list.
I prepared for my meeting with the Adirondack Free Pack.
Chapter Fifteen
Our goal was to request the Free Pack’s permission to enter their territory when we attacked Carolina’s compound and to ask for their help in the assault. I wasn’t convinced we’d get either, from what I’d learned from Gerry. They were so conservative that they were actually in favor of taking over custodianship of humanity.
They requested three of us in the envoy: vampire, werewolf, and oracle. Senator Knight was the vampire—the Pack knew and respected him. They would have been very pleased if he’d been the one to open Pandora’s Box. They had asked for me personally, Knight said, because they were curious about me. The oracle, it was decided, would be Jason, the plan being for the raven Jill to observe Carolina’s property while we were so close by. It was fitting: In many cultural traditions, ravens and crows lead wolves to prey. We had maps, and we had intelligence—the senator’s informant on the inside—but no one would ever suspect Jill was working for us.
We took a small plane to the nearest airport, then coptered from there. I was getting used to traveling in helicopters and it was a wonderful way to get a close bird’s-eye view of the world. But the noise . . . It would always remind me of Fatima’s murder by the Order. We set Jill loose, Jason giving her specific directions, he claimed, and promised to meet her back at the landing site shortly.
We hiked in through the woods, coming to a clearing. A number of roughly organized structures, in no way uniform, were clustered around a central open area. We were greeted by a number of Family, who were eager to meet Senator Knight but eyed me and Jason Jordan with suspicion.
A tall werewolf stepped forward. “I’m Eli Passey, and I speak for the Adirondack Pack.” Blond hair and blue eyes and his flannel shirt and jeans were normal enough, but Passey was a scary-looking bastard, whip thin with the kind of muscles that come from hard use and aren’t just for show. He must have been hurt badly as a child, as a human, before he could Change, because he had a long white scar that ran from his left temple to his jaw line and down to his neck. A scar that size meant that the wound should have taken off the side of his head; only being a werewolf had saved his life. Maybe that counted for his behavior now, the Fangborn-first chauvinism and the clannishness that went beyond Family ties.
“I know why you’re here,” he said. “Present your case.”
Senator Knight handed him a file folder. He flipped through it, his face contorting with anger. He handed it to his second, who looked at it and swore, throwing it to the ground. I picked it up when no one else went for it. One photo showed a large barn on what I assumed was Carolina’s property, covered with some kind of mushrooms.
Then I realized the things on the wall were ears.
There had been an orderly pattern, lined up neatly in rows. The oldest ones were now just blurs of weather-beaten flesh and rusty nails that punctuated the ancient wood of the barn.
I’d never really understood the notion of tacking animal hides or ears or tails to a fence to “scare off” would-be interlopers, but I got it, a little, when situated in the context of fear, superstition, and a struggle for survival. But these days, I was less sympathetic to the gesture, if not outright hostile to it, and I felt my blood boil over as I realized what these trophies were.
They were human ears, and the reason they’d been hung up next to the wolf ears and snakeskins was because they had been taken from Fangborn.
As much as I’d like to think we might some day as a species find our way out of the pits of hatred and ignorance, it wasn’t happening anywhere near here, anytime soon. It made me think twice about I-Day.
I was experiencing something I felt certain was very close to the hatred the Order felt for Fangborn. The killing impulse didn’t fade with that understanding, which distressed me for about a microsecond, and I knew I was heading into murky philosophical waters. The urge to do violence didn’t go away, but I could channel it to suit me: I wasn’t necessarily going to slaughter whoever’d done this, but I was going to give myself a lot of leeway in how I addressed the situation.
The senator and Passey shook hands on the deal. As the senator turned to go, Passey said, “Will you stay a moment longer, Zoe Miller?”
Not liking the feeling of danger that suddenly coursed through me, I looked to the senator, who nodded. “We’ll see you at the landing point,” he said as he and Jason left.
I expected to be asked about my unexpected trip to Japan, or introduced around as a courtesy, a stray to a new group. Instead, I was confronted with a picture of Fatima Breitbarth’s body in the snow.
“You left your friend
, your Family, to die, while you escaped?” he demanded.
I gasped, shocked by his accusation. “No! The Makers—”
There were uneasy sounds in the rest of the group, as if I had invoked some holy name.
Eli held up a hand to quiet them. “I’ve heard about your powers, everyone has, and still you didn’t save her. What, were you trying to get some of her abilities for yourself? That’s what you do, isn’t it? Suck the power from other Fangborn. You’re some kind of vampire now? Or are you in league with the Order?”
Stunned by his accusations and total lack of understanding, I said, “What? No, I never—”
“What about Toshiharu Yamazaki-Campbell? Everyone knows that you assaulted him.”
Passey suddenly reminded me of a Fangborn version of Buell, and I was shocked at just how much that frightened me. Logic didn’t enter into addressing something as deep as a cultural bias. It was more dangerous than religion, because in this case, there was no higher power, no rules to temper his response. It was Passey’s ideas alone driving him, and it made him dangerous. Disagree with him, and he’d claim you were anti-Fangborn, which, with this crowd, was something you didn’t do.
“What? No! He and I were . . . competing for the power from an artifact. I won. He’s still Toshi; he’s still got all his vampire powers. That’s just a false rumor. He’s in Boston now! You can ask him!”
“We’re not in contact with him.”
“That doesn’t make me a liar.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I’m not convinced. In fact”—Passey glanced around at the crowd of angry Fangborn around me—“none of us are convinced. I’m calling for Examination.”
Whatever, if it would just get us moving. “Great. AP English or history? Trivial Pursuit?”
Passey looked aghast. “You take this very lightly. Too lightly. Call your Family together; let them stand with you.”
“I’m a stray, you know that. What am I supposed to be taking so seriously?”
“Examination is our justice. If you’re found guilty, you undergo a shedding.”
I shook my head at this sudden madness. “I don’t know what that is.”
He looked shocked. “How can you not? Stripped of your powers. A group of vampires drains the life from you, almost—and injects certain chemicals. It has the effect of permanently removing your powers, your ability to Change.” Passey smirked. “No more Miss Showboating Stray.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” I insisted. “And you’ll be able to tell I’m telling the truth. You bring those vampires in here right now!”
“We know you’re not lying. But if you’ve broken our laws, you pay the price.”
“I was trying to help!” I looked around desperately. “Ask them! Ask Toshi!”
“Not necessary. We ourselves have proof of your lawbreaking. Your image, your name is what was broadcast to all of our people, on two occasions now. That resulted in the death of several Family members, thus breaking the law.” He spat. “We abide by the law, even if you don’t. Resign yourself.”
I didn’t have time to waste with this. I knew I’d done nothing wrong, and I didn’t have the time to work it out by trial. But I couldn’t risk any ill will that might jeopardize our mission tomorrow.
I had to get out of here.
I could feel the antagonism toward me building, and knew that it wasn’t going to be talk that got me out of here.
I couldn’t kill or hurt them. We needed them in the fight against Carolina and the Order. I needed another way out.
The bracelet flared; I recalled the brightness of it underwater in the bath at Kanazawa. It was camouflage. I needed camouflage now . . .
The idea seemed to feed into the bracelet, making it alive, glowing brighter, and brighter, until the colors washed out and went to—
Blinding white light, as everything went online, burned on. I felt a thousand suns light up inside me, as if floodgates had been opened, a connection made, a damper removed.
If I thought I was the only one who could see it, that this was a private showing, I was wrong. The rest of the Pack could see it, too, and threw their hands up over their faces, threw themselves on the ground to keep from being blinded.
“Don’t lose her!” I heard Passey shout.
Five more seconds, and I could feel the light softening, going dim again. I cursed myself for not having the brains to run when I could have. I hurried as far over to the gateway as I could, trying not to step on too many people as I ran. I didn’t oppose squashed toes or crunched fingers, not at the moment. I was just trying to keep as inconspicuous as possible while I fled.
The light vanished, and I was face to face with three very angry werewolves and a vampire. I stopped short, wishing I’d thought to run along a wall, and at least be able to fight with my back to that.
“Who has her?” The vampire in front of me Changed, gone to gray scales with yellow streaks. He was so huge, I couldn’t imagine what kind of snake he resembled. Maybe he was the Loch Ness monster.
Then I realized he was staring right at me and still couldn’t see me. Couldn’t smell me. Maybe he was still blind, suffering the aftereffects of—
He turned and made eye contact with his equally confused partner. They could see each other . . .
No time for questions. Time to jam.
I started to tiptoe around the trio, when one of them, searching for me, whirled around, his arm out. I braced for the impact and the brawl that would follow.
It never came. His arm went straight through me. In fact, now he was standing exactly where I was.
I couldn’t feel him. He couldn’t feel me. So I needed to get the hell out of here while I could.
I ran while they were still hollering and groping for me. I ran until I was pretty sure I was safe, then ran some more to confuse my trail, and then ran a bit farther because I was scared to death.
I kept running, also, because at least it felt like I was alive. My heart pounded, my chest heaved, the sweat rolled off me. I was afraid if I stopped running, I wouldn’t be able to feel the ground, that I would be stuck otherwhere, out of sight forever. I was afraid I would learn I’d turned into a ghost.
It was tripping and measuring out my length on the pine needle duff that finally convinced me. Ghosts can’t stub their toes.
The bracelet went from living color to dull, so that it looked like an ordinary mortal accessory. I could see myself solid, again.
I raced for the landing site.
“What did they want?” the senator asked. His question was all innocence but with no surprise that I’d been running.
I eyed him, half wondering if he hadn’t offered me up to them on purpose, especially after the demonstration, when I’d seen him lose his cool. I caught my breath. “They wanted to subject me to Examination and shedding. I escaped.”
“Did you kill anyone?”
He didn’t ask why, I noticed. “No. I knew better. That would void their contract. Will my escape affect your deal?”
The senator leaned back and shook his head. “As long as no one is dead, they are allowed to fight with us, and if I-Day comes within the year, they are content.”
“Fine.”
We sat in silence, waiting for Jill the raven to return with her intelligence, and then left for the island.
I had been fast asleep that night when suddenly the alarms sounded in the lab. I materialized there immediately.
“What the hell is that?”
Sean stared at a screen flashing red, lighting up his face. “Intruder alert. They’re coming in from all over.”
“What? We don’t have an intruder alert. We can’t have intruders, because we’re . . . me?”
“Dude, I can only tell you what the screen says. Anything else, you have to figure out yourself. The software is only as good as the user.”
“Yeah, whatever, shut up a second.” I thought furiously. “Okay, Sean, stay with me.”
We were in the coffee room, the space where the men I’d killed—some from the Order, some mercenaries from Dmitri’s employ—hung out. Basically, if their blood was on my hands, they were here and I had access to their memories and knowledge. “Whatever you guys used to do back in the day, you’re doing it for me now. We have intruders, and we can’t afford that. If I go, you go. We’ve got to get them out of here, ASAP.”
“Zo, are you sure that is a good idea?” Sean asked. “What if they belong here, came in with the other artifacts? New abilities, new minds, like Dr. Osborne?”
“I wondered about that, but it was the fact that you called them intruders, Sean. New rule: anyone who wants to be in here has to introduce themselves to me, shake my hand. Got it? No skulking in around through the lab without a pass, which . . .” Suddenly badges appeared on everyone around me, including me. “Which you all have. We’ll sort out levels of access later. Sean, where we got them?”
“Five different points. Here.” He raised a hand, and suddenly a plan schematic of the lab, now a full-on office park, appeared. It was far bigger than I thought, even with the new lab attached.
“Okay, five teams, divvy up according to abilities.”
Instantly, the mercenaries who worked for Dmitri Parshin in life now formed teams in their afterlife to fight for me. They appeared to be armed again, but that was my intent. No weapons allowed in my mind-lab but those I authorized.
A group of ten interns stood there. “You guys—just keep out of the way.”
“Zoe, hang on,” Sean said. “The lab rats, the undergrads—they’re not dead, remember? They’re constructs, kind of subprograms you created to sort some of the information so you could study it.”
“Yeah? Right, they’re not mercenaries, not trained soldiers.”
