Blood of Jackals

by Todd Marcelas Moreno

  “No!” Varian said, startling himself by his own voice. “They ask too many questions. And they make me feel stupid.”

  “We could carefully select them,” Guishaun offered. “We can...”

  Varian rocked faster. “Please, Guishaun,” he pleaded. “Keep them away.”

  “All right, Varian,” Guishaun said soothingly. “Don’t worry. I will.”

  Varian nodded his thanks. His rocking slowed.

  “I must go,” Guishaun said as he rose. “I’ve much to do, and little time.”

  Varian stood as well, calmly receiving his brother’s embrace.

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Varian,” said Guishaun. “Remember: I stopped father, and I’ll stop anyone who dares to try anything.”

  Varian put his arms around his brother and held tight.

  - - -

  Returning to Crucidel, Hestori and her witch sisters found Vialette’s body on a portable medical bed connected to various machines. Lilth did not join them, with her claim of having other matters to attend being unquestioned. With neither hurry nor hesitation, one witch proceeded to free Vialette’s body from the life-support machinery, as another placed her hand over Vialette’s forehead to search through the remnants of her mind.

  “I see no damage, Sister,” the second woman reported. “She can be fully awakened for use in our search.”

  “Then let us infuse her,” Hestori said, signaling the others to draw near. They did so, each putting a hand to Vialette’s head as they began to chant.

  No one was there to hear them. The servants who were tending Vialette had all departed, unnerved by the power radiating from the black-clad women and by their predatory stares. They thus did not witness Vialette’s breathing becoming stronger, and her skin regaining its color. Nor did they see her swallow, move her head, and finally open her eyes.

  “Where am I?” Vialette asked. Or rather, her body asked. There was debate on whether a reconstructed awareness from residual memories was truly a person. The issue was thornier on whether such an incarnation could be considered as the person from whom it originally derived.

  Hestori had little use for such questions however, and grabbed Vialette by the throat. The other witches continued chanting, altering their words and cadence. “See him now with your mind,” Hestori intoned, touching the struggling Vialette at the center of her forehead. Vialette’s hands fell to her sides. They sought not her knowledge. She was but a conduit.

  “Find him with your heart,” Hestori went on, ripping Vialette’s gown to touch between her breasts. “To a path that once was blind...” At the witch’s simultaneous touch to both her naked eyes, Vialette’s pupils grew, turning the twin orbs black. “Now show me where to start.”

  A spark of light came to Vialette’s eyes as Hestori’s incantation ended, making the outer flesh translucent and revealing two inky pools. Drawing on the energy of Vialette’s body and the channeled power of her sisters, Hestori looked deeply into the pools at the moving shapes and shadows, focusing her mind on the question of how to find Derrick Possór.

  Slowly a man’s face appeared. It was the man to whom Vialette had brought the Possór lord. This man...where did he take him? An image of a boat on the water came to her, but faded just as abruptly, refusing to return. Hestori shifted her thoughts, seeking instead to know where the man came from and who he was.

  An unknown city came into view. As the vision focused in, a building became discernable. It was an office building. Inside was a plaque on the wall saying HOPIS. She knew what that was. House Possór Internal Security. The office was a duty station. But where?

  The image moved again. There was a report on a viewscreen. At the top, near the date, an address was listed. Landsig. That was where the office was.

  Vialette’s eyes flared and were consumed by an inner fire. The strain from the ordeal had likewise wasted away her body. Hestori let the now useless husk drop to the bed. They had their place to start: Landsig. That was where the trail began that would lead them to the young prince that all of Legan eagerly sought.

  - - -

  “Good, Child,” the old woman said as Kaela Meres maintained her concentration. They were in the woman’s cottage down a little-used road outside the village. “Your mental shield is getting stronger. Soon you will be able to defend against nearly all attacks.”

  “Defend, but not attack,” Kaela said, opening her eyes.

  “Knowing how to defend yourself is more important than learning how to attack, Kaela,” Volienna Delmon replied. “Besides, a sly defense can lead to a surprise offense.”

  “I know, Volie,” Kaela admitted. “I just want something to ‘surprise’ Jair.”

  “You want to attack your brother?”

  “No. Yes. I mean… It’s just that he... he treats me...”

  “As a younger sister. Imagine that. So, what does he do that’s so unfair?”

  “He’s telling me to stay away from Angren.”

  “Your cousin? That’s strange.”

  “I don’t think he’s my cousin. There is something about the way Jair acts around him. Mother too.” Kaela paused as she considered what more to say.

  “You read him,” the woman accused.

  “I know it was wrong,” said Kaela, long used to her teacher sensing her thoughts. “The first time it was fine. The second time…I was mad. He wasn’t paying any attention to me. And he got scared. Then Jair yelled at me.”

  “But if he sensed you, why didn’t your cousin just raise his mental shields?”

  “I don’t think he has any. Oh, and I can’t see him with my vision.”

  “Curious, that,” Volienna granted her. “Well, I’d need more to—”

  Kaela pulled out a garment from her bag. “It’s one of his shirts,” she said.

  “Kaela!”

  “It’s all I could get, but it does have his blood on it.”

  “Kaela, I don’t think this is—”

  “Please, Volie. I don’t know how to read objects, but I know something’s going on. Jair made me promise not to talk to anyone, even you, but this way... if you just touch the shirt...”

  Seeing Kaela’s worry, the woman relented. Accepting the garment with both hands, Volienna closed her eyes. Kaela watched as her teacher’s brow furrowed. Volienna’s head turned one way and then the next, as if she were watching alternating scenes. Finally one vision held her attention. Volienna’s mouth opened in a gasp before she suddenly opened her eyes.

  “Kaela, go find your brother. Tell him I must see him and his... cousin. I see danger coming. Tell him he can’t wait any longer. You got that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go then. Now. And tell no one else.”

  - - -

  As soon as he came within sight of the government building, Steuben knew something was wrong. Security forces had it surrounded, but not for a siege. This was a clean-up crew. Whether any investigators were still inside or not, it meant that whatever happened was over.

  The Colonel flashed a HOPIS badge as he drew near, nodding his respects to certain ranking officers as he caught their eye.

  Inside the HOPIS field office, he could see the remnants of the assault. For all the blood and disarray, there were few lasblasts inside, and none on any of the victims. From the positions of the furniture and placement of the bodies, it looked as if they had been thrown about. Armed HOPIS agents cast aside like rag dolls. Clearly the assailants were psychically adept.

  But why make it bloody? The answer came as he saw that one man had been methodically sliced up. The killers had wanted something from these people.

  Steuben looked to another man seated before a computer console. There was a lot of blood around him as well. Did they find what they were searching for? He looked at the man again, reading into the pain and horror on the dead face.

  “Lieutenant,” Steuben said, calling to a man standing with several other investigators. “Where can I get secure access to the facility’s computer?’


  “An investigator is reviewing its files right now, Sir. I can take you to her.”

  “What have you found?” Steuben asked when they reached the investigator. The woman glanced at her lieutenant before answering.

  “Four people entered the building, and proceeded here without impediment.”

  “The building security officers do not remember them,” the lieutenant added.

  Steuben nodded. Wiping the guard’s memories gave them time, and avoided drawing attention. After all, the real people they wanted to impress were upstairs.

  “Which is remarkable,” the man added, “since surveillance records show that they all wore distinctive clothing.” Steuben looked a question at him. “Flowing gowns and hooded cloaks,” the officer replied. “All women in black.”

  “What were they searching for on the computer out there?” Steuben asked. He did not need to tell the investigator the computer he meant. The one with the slick of blood all over it.

  “Personnel files. Current assignments, where they lived, if they were here.”

  “So how many did they miss?”

  “Five agents and a secretary. Four agents were in the field, one on vacation.”

  Steuben lifted an eyebrow. “Who is the agent on vacation?”

  “Jair Meres.”

  The Colonel gave no reaction to a name he knew quite well. Derrick had saved Agent Meres from the late former First Advisor’s death order. “Does it say where he was going?”

  “Not there. But somehow the attackers pulled his travel itinerary. Meres was going to Voxny. There’s also a hotel listed.”

  “Hotel? He doesn’t have any family there?”

  “None are listed. He does have cousins in Landover though.” From the side, the lieutenant ordered a subordinate to check if Meres’ cousins there had heard from him recently.

  “What about parents or siblings?” Steuben pressed.

  “For that information, we need to access restricted files.”

  “Get the codes you need,” Steuben ordered. The investigator acknowledged him as the Colonel turned to the lieutenant. “Where is Agent Meres’ desk?”

  “Over here, Sir.”

  Steuben entered a small office overlooking a park. Children were playing there, oblivious to the carnage that loomed less than a block away. The Colonel looked at the desk. It had been searched, but was anything missing? What might they have taken to help them psychically lock in on Meres? Knowing that only powerful adepts could have taken on a HOPIS field office like this, Steuben did not overly berate himself for letting them get ahead of him in their competing search for Derrick. He had to think. Confirmation that Agent Meres was involved did not surprise him. Nor did the Voxny connection.

  The name of Lilth Morays however kept repeating in his mind.

  “I have it, Sir,” the investigator said. “Agent Meres’ family is in the Quetana region. There is no exact address. The closest town is called Steerback.”

  Under other circumstances, Steuben might have laughed. The townsfolk might as well have called the place ‘Keep Out,’ even if it was cattle country.

  “Lieutenant,” Steuben called, “alert our people in Landover of what to expect. More than likely however, Meres’ cousins are already dead.”

  “So, are we off for the Quetana frontier to meet the killers, Colonel?”

  Steuben nodded. “I need a unit with full training in the Disciplines, as well as a supply of our latest virulent injectables. We’ve seen what our quarry can do. We have to be ready.”

  - - -

  Jair entered Volienna’s home with Derrick close behind. Everyone in the area knew Volienna, the old local healer, and he had been to her house many times before. This was the first time however that he felt apprehensive in her presence.

  “Volienna,” Jair said as she came toward him, not bothering to greet his sister standing next to her. “You have my every respect—”

  Volienna walked past him and straight to Derrick. Confused by her attention, Derrick just stood there as she lifted her hand to his forehead.

  “Volienna, no!” Jair yelled, only to be stopped mid-step by her other hand.

  Derrick trembled, but did not cry out. When the woman ended the psychic link, Jair had to steady him on his feet.

  “What did you do to him, Volienna?” Jair demanded.

  “I neither did nor undid, Jair Meres,” Volienna replied, her hands together as she paced about the room in thought.

  Jair relaxed slightly. “So you know?” he asked.

  “His headaches are part of the working coming undone. Who had him?”

  “He was at Crucidel Palace, in Voxny.”

  “Lilth Morays,” Volienna whispered, before clearing her throat. “Her Dark Sisters seek him out, and they know he is here. You can’t stay.”

  Jair drew a deep breath. He had known they would come. Eventually. He had just hoped for more time. “Where should I go?” he asked wearily.

  “For now, it doesn’t matter. Just tell no one.”

  “I want to go with them,” Kaela said, her eyes pleading.

  “No, Child,” Volienna replied, much to Meres’ relief. “You must stay here.”

  “But—” Volienna silenced Kaela with a wave. There would be no debate.

  “Leave now,” said Volienna, still eying Jair. “They’re close. Don’t go home. Talk to no one. Run, for this is an enemy you must not face.”

  “And you?”

  “My path is chosen. Go.”

  - - -

  Agnes Meres felt their presence as a hand reaching through her back and gripping her heart. She turned and saw four women in black approach the house. As she continued to stare, the edges of her vision grew dark, but she saw that what they were really doing was floating toward the house. Wraiths, heralding a coming storm. Agnes wanted to move, to call her children. But she could not.

  “Where is Derrick Possór?” hissed a voice in Agnes’s mind.

  “He is with Jair, my son,” Agnes Meres heard herself reply.

  Deep within her cowl, the woman’s eyes narrowed. “And where is your son?”

  “At the Fiskin Ranch—” Agnes fell to the ground as the witch released her.

  Her thoughts dulled as the woman flew from her field of vision, Agnes fought to remain conscious. Remembering a technique that her oldest son had taught her to keep her heartbeat regular, Agnes used it now, just to keep it beating.

  Neither of you boys better be there, Agnes thought as her breathing steadied. Struggling to her feet, she staggered into her house. She knew what she had to do. The question was time.

  “You surprised me with your trickery,” Agnes muttered to the unknown woman in black as she prepared to alert others in the valley. “Now we’ll see if we can surprise you.”

  -

  “Who are you?” Hern Fiskin called as the four women in black silently approached. Given the way they hovered over the ground, he guessed that they were using some type of suspensor-field device.

  “Where is Derrick Possór?” one of the women rasped.

  “Derrick Possór?” Hern asked, raising his lasrifle. “Do I look like I empty out the Royal Piss Pot? Now, I don’t know what you want here, but I want you to leave. Right now.”

  Hern Fiskin watched one of the women raise her hand and felt his weapon tear free of his grip. “Nave, Eniel,” Hern called back into the house, “get Petraik. We got witches!” Hern suddenly felt the breath squeezed out of him as he fell to the ground like a gaming pin. The black-clad women continued forward, one of them reaching out to him.

  “No!” he cried as the woman entered his mind. His body twitched before finally going still.

  “Go inside and get the other two,” the woman said, dropping the dead Fiskin brother to the ground. “This one knew nothing.”

  - - -

  “Did you get in touch with everyone?” Volienna Delmon asked as she stepped aboard the transport vehicle with the help of another man behind her.

  �
��Yes,” the driver replied. “They’re all coming. And Petraik Fiskin just got word from his brother Nave of witches. They’re probably still at the ranch.”

  “Then let’s go,” Volienna breathed, adjusting her seat harness.

  -

  “He knew nothing of the lordling either,” said one woman, letting Nave Fiskin’s head fall to the floor. “But he did expect Jair Meres to return. Perhaps they are together.”

  “Then we will wait for them,” Hestori said, looking about, but finding nothing in the room’s rustic furnishings worthy of her to sit upon.

  “People are approaching,” said a third woman.

  “They are armed,” reported another.

  “Soldiers?”

  “No. Locals.”

  “With shovels and pitchforks no doubt,” Hestori remarked. “That is about all the weapons they are allowed on this petty planet. Are any of them aware?”

  “I sense some power,” the first woman said, “but it is diffused.”

  “Perhaps there are one or two inborns among them. This should be amusing.”

  The four women in black came from the house and stepped onto the porch.

  “Where is Derrick Possór?” Hestori asked, sending her voice out over the crowd. No one answered. “Can it be that your reigning lord was here, and you simple folk had no idea?”

  A murmur passed through the townspeople. “Leave us be,” Volienna Delmon said, silencing the crowd with her hand. “You’re not welcome here.”

  “What about Jair Meres?” the witch asked, ignoring the older woman. “Who amongst you knows where he is?”

  “You will have neither of them, Dark Servant,” Volienna intoned.

  The witch turned. “If you know what I am, woman, you should know not to defy me.” The witch reached out her hand to send forth her power, only to snap it back. Volienna smiled.

  “You see,” Volienna said, “we simple folk are not completely defenseless.”

  The witch extended her finger and shot out a fiery line of energy across the gathered people. Several of them winced but they did not break rank. Nor were they harmed.

  “She has shielded them,” one of the witches said.

  “And they are linked,” said another.

  “Very good, old woman,” Hestori said, signaling the others. “But we can link as well.”