by John Conroe
I turned to the two men. Their eyes pulled away from the spinning metal parts to focus on me. Both of them raised their hands and backed away. I almost didn’t let them go. A simple finger flick would have thrown one headfirst into the nearest tree. A snap of my thumb and index finger would have spun the other one’s head clean around his shoulders, shearing his spine.
Instead, I heard my mother’s voice admonishing me to do no harm. Oh, but I wanted to. I really, really wanted to do some harm.
I picked up the picture of Mom, the newspaper clipping, and the small strand of her hair, stowing them carefully away in my bag. The new orbs were almost done, so I pulled the heat from them and melted a big patch of snow before letting them float over to join the first orb. The new ones were dark gray and about the size of tangerines, the knife-made orb a golf ball of chrome steel marbled with lines of brass. Picking up the rest of my stuff, I headed down the hill toward the nearest sidewalk. Two more dark figures moved down the concrete on an intercept path with me. Silver gleamed on both their chests, reflecting the yellow light of a nearby park lamppost.
“You there,” one of them said, a bright light flicking on in his hand, pinning me in its glare.
I stopped and turned. “Ah, the police. Keeping the city safe, fellas?” I asked. “Protect and Serve?”
The orbs were floating in the dark behind me. I called them to my hands, which hung by my sides.
“What have you got in your hands?” the second cop asked, suspicious as hell. That one, it turns out, wasn’t a dude.
“Let’s see those hands,” the lady cop said.
I turned up both hands, two steel balls in one and one in the other.
“What the hell are those?” the guy cop asked.
“Juggling balls,” I said, tossing them up and doing a simple criss-cross routine.
“You’re out here at night, juggling in the dark?” he asked, eyes narrowed.
“You know the muggers were already here and funny thing… they didn’t seem to like my juggling either,” I said, dropping the balls into my bag. They didn’t seem to find that amusing.
“Let’s see some ID,” she ordered.
I pulled my wallet and my Vermont driver’s license slid between my fingers. I handed it to the female. She looked at it under her flashlight, then back up at me sharply before handing it to her partner.
“What is a Vermont kid doing out here, in Boston Common, this time of night, Declan? Scoring drugs for resale?” the female officer asked while her partner scanned my ID with an app on his phone.
“Stirring up old ghosts,” I said.
“You high, Declan?” she asked, flashing her light in my eyes. I sucked the power out of it and it died.
“Shit, those were brand new batteries,” she said, banging it against the palm of her other hand uselessly. She paused as something occurred to her. She slung the big light on her belt and pulled a smaller version from a pocket.
Her partner’s phone started buzzing like crazy and he frowned at the screen before answering it.
“DeLuca here. Yes, sir. Didn’t know you were on tonight, sir,” he said, moving quickly back a couple of steps to gain privacy, his eyes never leaving me. His voice dropped and I couldn’t make out his words.
His partner, whose name tag read L. Peterson, flicked her backup light on and flicked it over me. Her eyes were sharp and careful.
“You don’t look high to me, Declan. You look upset. Wanna tell me about it?”
I wanted to flatten the Common. I wanted to raze the city. “You don’t look like a therapist, Officer Peterson,” I said.
“You’d be surprised. Half this job is just understanding people,” she said, her voice lower and less threatening. “Girlfriend, family, or friends?”
I felt my eyebrows raise. She answered my unspoken question by pointing her finger at my cheek. “Tear tracks are more obvious than needle marks in this weather,” she said simply. Her expression was calm, interested, and much, much less threatening. Perhaps sympathetic.
A hundred smart ass answers flooded my mind, but when my mouth opened, all I said was “Family.”
“Did you lose someone, Declan?” she guessed.
“My mother… a long time ago,” I heard myself answer.
“She die here… in Boston?”
Lady was sharp. I nodded before adding, “She was murdered.”
Sympathy now warred with something harder. “They catch the murderer?”
I shook my head.
“Peterson,” her partner said suddenly, pulling the phone from his ear, clearly alarmed.
“Hold on a second, Frank,” she said. “You here to find answers?” she asked me.
“I was. I did,” I answered, half-wondering why I was just answering her questions and not blasting things apart, which I still really, really wanted to do.
“Peterson, come here now!” DeLuca said, his alarm high but his actions extremely careful, like an unarmed man facing an angry Doberman.
She frowned at him, then turned back to me. “Hang on a second, Declan. I want to hear more,” she said. With a couple of strides, she reached him and he simply handed her the phone. She looked confused as she put it to her ear. “Peterson,” she said, then stiffened, her head nodding once at whatever she heard. Her eyes snapped back up to me and widened. I could almost see the moment she decided something. “Yes sir, I know. I pay attention at the briefings sir.” A pause. “No sir, but I have this, sir. With all due respect, sir, I understand but I still feel I need to continue, sir. Call it intuition.” She listened and I could see she was annoyed now. “They’re not here, sir. I am,” she said. “Trust me, I understand. I didn’t realize at first but I’ve seen all the information, sir. My judgement tells me this is even more important because of it.”
She abruptly handed the phone back to her partner and turned my way. “Lindsey, you sure about this?” her partner asked. “That came from Washington and the governor’s office.”
She nodded once at him and headed my way. “Sorry about that, Declan. Bosses,” she said, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. She was taller and a few years younger than Darcy but her manner reminded me of my step-aunt.
“They probably told you I’m a high-risk individual and to hold off for an air strike,” I said.
She didn’t act all that surprised at my guess and she didn’t sugarcoat her answer. “More like they’re flying in a bomb squad of sorts to defuse you—the comparison was more nuclear. Your license set off a shit storm in seconds. All kinds of people all over the country are suddenly awake and concerned.”
“Omega?” I asked, reaching up to my ear.
“I have your aunt on the new transport drone. She’ll be there in twenty-three minutes. Father, I did not predict you would have this kind of reaction to whatever the entity told you,” Omega said. “I’ve instructed all agencies to back off and leave you alone. This officer is more persistent.”
“Omega? The AI?” Officer Peterson asked.
“I kind of helped create him. He’s… protective. My aunt is coming,” I said.
“Your mother’s sister?” she guessed.
“Shit, you weren’t kidding about those mad therapy skills, were you?” I asked.
“Let’s have a seat and talk some more about your mother and what you’ve found out while we wait,” she said, pointing at the park bench to the side of the path. “We’ll just try to keep warm.”
“Don’t worry about the cold, Officer Peterson. I can take care of that,” I said, pulling heat from the city around us. Immediately, a circle of snow and ice twenty feet across melted to water under our feet. The air temperature rose ten degrees in a couple of seconds. Her eyebrows raised in shock as she took it in.
“I included your partner ‘cause he doesn’t look like he’s leaving you,” I said with a shrug.
“That was nice of you, Declan. Have a seat, and call me Lindsey,” she said.
Chapter 36
A soft whirring sound was the on
ly warning we got before a black shape flashed into the space above us, slowing to a stop, a steady stream of air blasting downward. Only the red and blue emergency lights of the five patrol cars lit its surface.
“Holy shit,” Officer Lindsey said, the last bite of cannoli slipping from her fingers as she stared upward from our park bench.
“Yeah, it’s quiet. Real quiet,” I noted, scraping the last of the thick New England clam chowder from the bottom of my cup. This one was from a different restaurant than the soup Lindsey had bragged about. That batch had been awesome too, but Frank DeLuca had sworn his choice was better. He called it takeout for stakeout.
Omega’s sleek black transport drone hovered over the park, its black stealth outer skin almost disappearing against the night sky. With just a slight electric hum, the plane-sized drone lowered itself onto a set of newly extended landing gear.
Around the outside of the Common, the cops stationed in patrol cars stared at the almost featureless torpedo shape. The craft was motionless for a few seconds; the only thing moving was snow and debris blown by the downdraft of its big propulsion fans. Then a section on the side slid outward and up, like the gull wing doors of a Tesla Model X. A short ladder extended itself as a figure filled the opening.
“Bloody hell lad. That great electronic monster of yours damn near killed me getting this thing here,” my aunt Ashling said across the open space as she caught sight of me.
“Looks like your relief shift is here,” I said to Officer Lindsey. Aunt Ash stepped out of the aircraft and a second female shape filled the doorway. It took a second for me to recognize Gina Velasquez, Director of Arcane. My aunt headed my way and after a quick look around, Gina headed for the cluster of bigwigs that had stood for the last ten minutes staring at me across the Common.
Officer Lindsey climbed to her feet and brushed crumbs from her uniform. “I better go make nice with the brass. I’m sure to catch hell for ignoring my captain.”
My aunt was close enough to hear her. “I’ll be telling yer bosses that ya quite possibly saved a whole lot of grief fer everyone. Thank you for talking with me boy,” she said, first taking Lindsey’s hand in both of hers before pulling her into a hug.
“He was just upset,” Lindsey said. “And rightfully so.”
“I don’t know if ya fully grasp the importance of tonight’s events,” Ashling said.
“You heard?” Lindsay asked.
“His bloody computer was recording the whole damned thing. Ya did great, especially talking about yer own lad ta home and all. But this one here has been looking for answers most of his life. And when he gets upset, whole cities could disappear,” Ashling said, making a blowup motion with the fingers of her right hand.
“Aunt Ash! I can hear you,” I said, “and I’ve never blown up a city in my life.”
“And when the farmer’s cow died, he said, ‘That’s funny; it never did that before,’” she said, mostly to Lindsey.
Lindsey snorted and then coughed into her hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. Heard a lot about you… well, as you likely heard.” She stepped away from my aunt, gave me a nod, and then moved over to the cluster of authority types.
My aunt moved over and hugged me, then motioned for us both to sit down on the bench. “It’s a tough night ya’ve had, lad. It’s always been in me mind that Macha was behind it, but to have brought a witch from Perrun’s circle to act as a backup killer, well, it’s not shocking but she’s got an even colder heart than I knew.”
“You don’t have to worry about American cities, Aunt Ash, but there’s a small town in Ireland that won’t make it back on Google Maps next year.”
“What have I told ya? Do nothing when yer temper has got control of yer head. Think, lad. Sit back and think about yer actions.”
“I should do nothing then? Just let her get away with it?” I asked.
“Well, the one what killed yer mom is dead herself, right? Least that’s what yer Omega was going on about.”
“Yeah, she died of old age,” I said, not even trying to get the bitterness out of my voice. “He ran all death certificates in the last few days in Eastern Europe and found hers.”
“Ah, but ya don’t know that it was old age fer sure, now do ya? Did she look all that old to ya in yer vision?”
“Yeah, maybe sixty or so,” I said.
“Meaning she might have been a hundred, but that’s still young to one of pure blood, lad. Most death witches come to more violent ends, don’t ya know. Still and all, let’s let yer Omega do his hacking and snooping and see what he comes up with. Ya could be killing innocent people, lad,” she said.
I felt a tear trickle down my left cheek and her eyes tracked it while her expression softened. “Ah, Declan, I know how frustrating it is. I get it, lad, I really do. We’ll have our day with Macha. We will,” she said. “Now, in all this great mess, did ya learn anything useful?”
I knew what she was asking. Grabbing chalk from my bag, I leaned down and wrote out the listening spell the death witch had used. The sidewalk in front of the bench was long since melted of snow, dried out, and was perfect for chalk.
Almost instantly, the voices of the officials clustered across the Common sounded in our faces, loud and clear.
“ — I’m saying that no one should have that kind of power and no one’s above the law,” an older man in a dressy looking uniform said.
“No one in your position is that naïve, Chief,” Gina said. “There are always people who for one reason or another cannot be treated like everyone else.”
“Not to the point where a kid who everyone keeps telling me could destroy my whole city in a fit of rage gets diplomatic treatment. Nobody is allowed to walk around with tactical nuclear weapons, yet that’s what you’re saying he basically is,” the chief said vehemently.
“You speak of nuclear weapons? How about the whole of Russia’s defenses controlled by a computer that you people built and that threatens all of us if we so much as look at the boy cross-eyed,” another man in a dark wool overcoat said with a mild Russian accent.
“It is the same for my country—for every country,” another man said in accent-free English. His features were Asian so I figured him as probably being from China.
“I’m only responsible for the safety of this city, not a whole country, Mr. Ambassador. I still believe I should have been allowed to have snipers in place in case he did go batshit crazy,” the chief said.
“Your snipers would have died as soon as they drew a bead on him,” Gina said.
“Not true, Gina. I would have simply tranquilized them. But you are correct in that I will not allow you threaten Declan O’Carroll,” Omega suddenly said from at least three cell phones simultaneously.
“Hello Omega. Perhaps you could explain your position to the two ambassadors, Chief Thomas, the mayor, and the half dozen federal officers who are here?” Gina asked.
I wasn’t running the vision spell, but it was still easy to see surprise on faces and in body language from across the park.
“Declan is the most powerful witch on this planet and in the top three on Fairie. His strategic value to Earth is almost incalculable, even by me. The knowledge he can teach other witches, the checks and balances he places on the forces of Fairie, the magical firepower he can command on both planets is imperative to our survival against the Vorsook.”
“This is why our nuclear forces went live recently?” the Russian ambassador asked.
“A federal officer overstepped her bounds and damage was done to our most effective team of operatives. I needed to make a point.”
“How is it you allowed all this to happen?” the police chief asked, waiving a hand around, his face tight with anger.
“I am not omniscient, Chief Thomas—it just seems so from your point of view. The queens of Fairie acted on this world to weaken us. Declan has responded in such a way that it is unlikely either queen will attempt something similar in the near future. As to tonight’s events, I did not
predict that he would be so graphically successful in his endeavor to learn his mother’s fate. It is extremely fortunate that Officer Lindsey Peterson was on the scene. Things might have gone very, very differently had she not been here and possessed the skills and insight that she does. Being a police officer, like his step-aunt, telling him about her own son, and even the comments about the Patriots football team, of which he is a fan, all acted as triggers to let him bring his personal rage and loss under control. Going so far as to get takeout food from the best local dining establishments was nothing short of brilliant. And as his aunt is here now, there is no chance of him losing control tonight.”
Nobody said anything for a few seconds. Then the Chinese ambassador suddenly turned to Gina. “He is teaching classes to witches?”
