by Siegel, Alex
"Many try. Few succeed." The man offered his hand. "I'm Xavier."
Aaron shook it. "The Houston contingent. How is the weather down in Texas?"
"A hell of a lot nicer than it is up here. How can anybody live in this icebox?"
"I'm used to it." Aaron shrugged. "I've been a Chicago man my whole life. And this isn't so bad. You should've seen the storm last month."
"Well, I didn't pack enough warm clothes. If you have a spare winter coat, I could use it."
"Sure. I'll have somebody put one in your room tonight. We want our guests to be comfortable. And you must be Sampson." Aaron turned to the legionnaire next to Xavier.
Sampson had gigantic shoulders even by Society standards. His blond hair flowed around his big head so beautifully that he looked like he belonged on the cover of a romance novel. With a genuine smile, he shook Aaron's hand. His grip crushed like a vice.
"Glad to meet you, sir," Sampson said eagerly.
Aaron rubbed his sore hand. "Same here. Are you cold, too?"
"It's not so bad for me, but I'm a high energy guy. I'm really excited about the tournament. I can't wait to try my skills against the best. It's been a while since I had a real challenge in a fight."
"You'll get all that and more tomorrow. Do you have a gift?"
"No." Sampson shook his head. "I'm just naturally strong. My boss has a great gift though."
"Oh?" Aaron looked at Xavier. "Mind if I see?"
Xavier frowned. "Now? Here?"
"How often do you get a chance to show off? Come on. We're all colleagues here. Unless it's dangerous."
"It isn't. Turn around."
Aaron looked over his shoulder. Xavier was standing directly behind him.
Xavier raised his hand. "High five."
Aaron tried, but his hand passed through Xavier's. There was nothing there. Aaron looked back and found Xavier still seated at the table.
"I throw shadows of myself. Harmless illusions but occasionally useful."
"Very useful, I'd think," Aaron said. "You can create perfect decoys. Your enemy won't know which one is real. They'll shoot at empty air while you're safely hiding or getting behind them."
"I heard you were a perceptive man."
"Thank you. I didn't realize I had that reputation."
"Word gets around," Xavier said, "and everybody knows you're one of the legate's prize pupils."
"I wouldn't go that far," Aaron said. "We did work together for a long time, and our relationship isn't bad, but she doesn't cut me any slack. When I screw up, she makes sure I don't do it again."
"If you say so."
"It was nice meeting you. I won't forget about that coat. In fact I'll take care of it right now."
Xavier nodded. "Thanks."
Aaron walked off.
Chapter Five
Smythe watched the crowd from a corner of the room. For the last hour he had run back and forth, playing the part of a waiter. It wasn't a very glamorous job, but at least he was here. Poor Norbert would miss the fun entirely.
Smythe still didn't know what was really going on, but he was starting to get some ideas. Aaron and Marina were mixing with the crowd in a distinctly systematic way. It was clear they didn't want to miss anybody at all.
Aaron's little speech about security also bothered Smythe. It had been an interesting mix of near truths. Aaron had implied the surveillance cameras were only in the woods, when in fact they were everywhere. Over a hundred had been installed. Just about every room in the camp was covered, even the cabins, but the cameras were so well hidden it would take a sharp eye to see any of them. The internal security at this convention was better than a Las Vegas casino.
"Hello, Dr. Smythe."
Smythe jumped in surprise. The legate was standing next to him.
After spending so much time in the Society, Smythe was growing accustomed to people sneaking up on him. It was a game everybody played with each other. With Ethel, the experience was different though. She didn't just surprise people. She instantly reminded them of their mortality.
Smythe swallowed. "Hello, ma'am."
"Thank you for your service this evening," she said.
Her bodyguard stood behind her, as silent and still as a statue. Smythe had never heard Guthrum speak.
"My pleasure," Smythe said.
"There is somebody you need to meet. A special invited guest. You'll be working together."
He followed Ethel across the big room. They approached a stunningly beautiful woman wearing the robes of a legionnaire. She had a face that made Smythe's heart ache. Pure white hair flowed smoothly to the middle of her back. Her skin was a delicate pink color, and her eyes were a peculiar reddish brown.
"This is Odelia," Ethel said. "Odelia, meet Smythe. Odelia is from Los Angeles. Her commander is Yule, the man with the giant eyeballs. Odelia isn't part of the official delegation from Los Angeles. I asked for her specifically. Smythe is from Chicago, of course. You two have something in common."
Odelia looked at her. "We do, ma'am?"
"Both of you are supernatural healers. In fact, you're the most extraordinary healers on the continent and maybe beyond."
Smythe looked at Odelia with greater interest and curiosity.
"And I'll need your skills tomorrow," Ethel said. "This tournament will be fought at full speed. Minimal rules. I intend to see realistic fights with realistic injuries. We'll find out who the fiercest warrior truly is."
Smythe stared at her with an expression of horror. "Ma'am, are you kidding? The fighters will tear each other apart. It will be total mayhem."
"That's why I have you here." Ethel patted him and Odelia on the shoulders. "You'll fix the broken bodies as they come off the field."
"I can't raise the dead, ma'am."
"Then tell me what you can do. Talk to Odelia. Work out what level of damage is acceptable. I'll expect an answer tomorrow morning."
Ethel and Guthrum left.
Smythe turned to Odelia. "Did you know anything about this?"
"No." She shook her head. "I assumed she brought me here just in case of an emergency. I didn't expect to work."
He didn't believe in love at first sight, but she was making a strong case for it. Even the way her hair moved was gorgeous. Her lips were like rose buds.
"And I thought I was just going to serve food."
She patted his arm. "You're a big, strong guy. You look like you could be a legionnaire."
"That's because I am one." He winked.
"Huh? Why are you dressed like an assistant?"
"I honestly don't know, and I can't talk about it anyway. You shouldn't either."
She frowned. "I'm confused."
"Welcome to the club. Maybe we should get down to business. Do you want to go someplace quiet where we can talk for a while?"
"Sure." She smiled and his heart sang.
He led her out of the dining room through a side door. He had spent almost two weeks at the camp, so he knew it very well. He took her to a small chapel in the same building. There were just a few pews facing a crucifix on a wall. Light fixtures covered in yellow cloth provided warm illumination. A window looked out onto a field of moonlit ice and snow.
Smythe and Odelia sat and faced each other.
"I assume you have a gift," she said.
He smiled. "I'll show you if you open your robes a little."
She pulled apart her robes near her midsection. She wore thermal underwear underneath.
"This will look freaky," he said, "but it's safe."
She nodded and bit her lip.
He lifted her shirt. Slowly, he pushed his hand through her abdominal wall. Her flesh felt like warm shaving cream as his hand passed easily through it.
"Ah!" she squeaked.
"Hold still," he said softly.
He moved his hand around inside her abdomen, feeling her organs. As long as he was there, he would give her a checkup. She was in fine condition. Even her intestines were beautiful.
"That's amazing!" Her eyes were wide. "And you can heal people that way?"
"I can fix almost any structural injury in just a few seconds. Broken bones, torn tissue, dislocations. I can remove foreign bodies like bullets and knives. I can even take out tumors. I'm not as good with infections and burns, and I can't do anything about brain damage. Nerves cells don't respond like bones and muscles."
"Do you have a medical background?"
He nodded. "I'm a doctor. I was trained as a pathologist but then I joined the Army. They needed combat surgeons, so I was retrained. I served in Afghanistan for a few years. That place was hell. The Army transferred me to the Medical Research Institute for Infectious Diseases. Remember that big tuberculosis scare last year?"
"Of course."
"It was poison, not tuberculosis. Long story short, Ethel recruited me into the Society to help her with that mission. I'm proud to say I came up with a cure that saved hundreds of lives."
"That's wonderful." A broad smile made her face even more perfect.
"You must have a gift, too?"
"I do." She winked. "That's a nasty scar on your right arm."
"Shrapnel from a grenade."
"Hold it out for me."
He raised his arm. She placed her hands over the scar, and they began to glow with a pure white light. The entire room became brighter. He felt a warm tingle in his flesh that made him want to itch. The glow stopped and she lifted her hands. The scar was completely gone.
"Regenerative energy," she explained. "I heal diseased and damaged flesh."
He raised his eyebrows. "Incredible. How much damage can you heal?"
Her entire body began to glow, from her toes and fingers to the top of her head. Her face was so bright it made him squint, and her hair seemed like it was burning with white fire. The red color in her eyes glowed like lava. She had become an angel imbued with the light of Heaven.
"A lot."
That does it, Smythe thought. I'm definitely in love. "What's your background?" he asked.
The divine light faded.
"I was a clinical researcher specializing in exotic, lethal diseases," she said. "I would go to some of the worst shitholes in the world and take samples of dead people. My laboratory was in Los Angeles. Five years ago an outbreak of an unknown disease struck the city, and a lot of people got very sick. Local doctors were stumped, but I recognized the symptoms from my research. It was a rare form of leprosy. I knew it wasn't that infectious, which meant somebody was spreading it around on purpose. I was recruited for the same reason as you. The Society badly needed my medical expertise."
"But that's not how you got your gift," he said.
"No. That happened two years ago. My whole team was caught in a trap. Sulfuric acid was dumped on us. Even though our skin was being burned off the whole time, we still won that fight. Afterwards, we were dying, and there was no possibility of getting medical help. God gave me the power to save my friends and myself."
"That's a great story."
She grimaced. "It wasn't much fun at the time."
"I can imagine." He nodded. "But we should talk about tomorrow. Ethel will expect an answer in the morning."
"Hmm. If she actually tells our people not to hold back, it's going to be a horror show."
He furrowed his brow. "What are your limitations?"
"Like you, I can't fix brain damage."
"Then it sounds like we can't permit head trauma. Also, no neck or spinal injuries."
"And no dismemberment," she said. "I can't regenerate limbs."
"Fair enough. Is that it? Anything else goes?"
She shrugged. "I think so. You'll have to fix a lot of broken bones and torn tendons tomorrow. Compound fractures, too. They'll look like car crash victims."
"That's my bread and butter. Your job will be to keep the fighters alive while I put their parts back together. And deal with hemorrhaging and contusions." He smiled. "Do you mind if I try an experiment? Do that glowing thing again, please."
Her skin brightened. She looked like a fluorescent light bulb shaped like a beautiful woman.
He took her hands in his. Carefully, he pushed his fingers into hers so their flesh mingled. It became impossible to tell where one set of hands ended and the other set began.
The glow spread into his body. It travelled up his arms and into his chest. He heard the thumping of his own heart. He was sharing her vibrant power, and it was the most magnificent sensation of his life. It was the power of creation. The life energy of the whole universe flowed through her.
But it was too much. That God given power wasn't meant for him. Reluctantly, he withdrew his hands and the glow faded.
For a long moment they just looked into each other's eyes.
Then they fell into each other's arms and kissed.
* * *
Xavier stared at the frozen lake beside Camp Zonta. Even though the night was bitterly cold, he had to admit the lake was a sight to behold. A full moon lit the dusting of snow that covered the ice. It was a vast field of soft white perfection. If there were heating elements underneath, he saw no evidence of them, but he believed Aaron had told the truth.
Aaron had provided a winter coat for Xavier as promised. It was a gray nylon parka with a fur lined hood that he could tighten around his face. Xavier was still cold, but at least he wasn't miserable.
The lake is the way out, Xavier thought. All evening he had contemplated how he would escape this place if it became necessary. He didn't like the idea of wandering through woods full of booby traps. He had good eyes, and he would probably spot many of the traps, but that wasn't sufficient. Missing just one would kill him.
In the case of the lake, at least he knew what he was up against. According to Aaron, the ice was dangerously thin in spots. That was a well defined problem, which meant it could be solved. If Xavier were clever enough, he could even use the thin ice to his advantage. Anybody pursuing him would have to cross it also.
He hung a small hands-free headset over his ear. It would be invisible from a distance, particularly at night. He reached into his pocket and grabbed the slim black phone that he used for special calls. Working by touch alone, he dialed a number.
"Hanley here."
"What is my color?" Xavier said with a minimum of lip movement.
"Gray."
"What is my weapon?"
"A spear," Hanley said in a tone of annoyance.
"Who am I?"
"The commander of Houston. It's 1:30 in the morning, Xavier! Why didn't you call earlier?"
"I had to be sure everybody was asleep," Xavier said.
"I wish I were asleep! Where the hell are you?"
"Eastern Wisconsin. Camp Zonta. It's a summer camp."
"Hold on," Hanley said. "Let me look that up. I need to see a map."
Xavier waited impatiently. He checked the cabins around him. All the lights were off and there was no movement.
"Got it," Hanley said. "It's a nice, isolated location. Very few civilians in the area. We can use the woods as cover for our approach. This assault should be straightforward."
"Those woods are full of traps."
"Then we'll go slow. Thanks for the heads up."
Xavier sighed. "Listen, this isn't a good idea."
"What isn't?" Hanley said.
"The attack."
"Why? You're at the convention, right? Everybody is there?"
"Yes, everybody is here," Xavier said. "That's exactly the problem. It's a fucking freak show, even worse than I expected."
"How many people are we talking about?"
"Around forty-five or fifty."
"That's all?" Hanley said. "I'm planning to send a combined force of two hundred men. All special forces or highly trained FBI agents. That's a four to one advantage. We'll hit the Society so hard and fast they won't even have time to find their guns."
"They already have their guns, lots of guns, and every
other kind of weapon. They sleep with them. And don't even think you can sneak in here and surprise everybody. There is security all around the camp. Your men will never even reach the camp alive. They'll get slaughtered in the woods."
"My guys will be fully equipped for intense combat."
"It doesn't matter," Xavier said in a hostile tone. "How many times do I have to explain? You won't be fighting humans. There are real monsters here. They live in shadows and only come out when..."
"Stop!" Hanley said. "I've warned you before. I won't listen to your paranoid garbage about dark creatures with special powers. You lose a lot of credibility every time you talk that way."
"Then how do you explain what happened in San Francisco?"
"We won that fight in the end."
"But how many men did you lose?" Xavier said.
"We were attacking a fortified underground bunker. We expected casualties. They were just worse than anticipated. This Camp Zonta is a much softer target. I'm looking at a satellite photo right now, and I already have a plan of attack in mind. There is a road to the east..."
Xavier rubbed his eyes. He was tired after a long day of travel and stress. In retrospect, he should've slept instead of making this call.
"Shut up. I don't want to hear your idiotic plan. Whatever it is, it won't work. Your men will get butchered, you'll die, and I'll have to find another ally. That would be very inconvenient for me."
"I refuse to walk away from this opportunity," Hanley said. "The entire Special Missions Unit is already in Chicago. They're chomping at the bit to move out."
"Then let's compromise. Don't do anything yet. Leave your men in Chicago where they won't attract the wrong kind of attention. In the morning I'll call and give you a plan that might actually work. I just need some time to think about it. I'll also try to get more information about the security here. The convention goes until Monday morning, so there's no rush. Let's do this right."
"Since when do you call the shots?"
Xavier squeezed his phone in frustration. "My intelligence has always been good. Hasn't it? I was the one who got the ball rolling on this whole thing. This is as much my operation as yours. I'm just asking for a few hours of patience."
Hanley grunted. "I suppose so."
