by TR Cameron
The portal broke the stillness of the ruined courtyard. The sunlight was cold and cast the area in sharp relief. Dreven had arrived early and walked the path that wound through the broken stones. The ghosts of the structures that had once existed projected themselves from his memory and stately columns rose proudly from the crumbling foundations to circle the fountain the Remembrance used for their meetings. These last vestiges of older times served as voiceless witnesses to their plans.
The witch, Iressa, was next to arrive. She was likewise early, as was their agreement. She walked to his side and flashed him a flawless smile. As always, he felt how easy it would be to surrender to that façade of ravishing beauty and become her plaything. Her black dress hugged her slim curves provocatively and offered a subtle invitation all its own. Again, he marshaled his inner strength against the idea. He considered lashing out in response to her seductive effort, but while it might have been intentional, it could also be the woman’s natural state. She’d practiced putting others under her spells, both literal and figurative, for so long that she likely couldn’t turn it off.
He chose a simple nod instead. “Thank you for coming. I have come to believe that your ideas offer the best path forward—that we must make a louder statement against the humans and the kemana both.”
“Of course I’m right. A child could see that.”
The wizard suppressed his annoyance. “Be that as it may, we should act together from here on.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Do you believe they will still argue the point?”
“I do. They are more wedded to their perspectives than I am.”
Iressa smirked. “I've always admired your flexibility, Dreven.”
He managed not to roll his eyes at the tease in her tone. “Excellent. You should get back to your platform. It’s almost time.” She put an extra sway in her hips as she walked away, and Dreven suppressed a shudder.
Beautiful but deadly.
At the appointed moment, the other three portals manifested in their usual places. Iressa was in motion as the first hole in the fabric of reality appeared and doubtless looked as if she had only recently arrived from her own portal.
Which serves my purposes perfectly.
When they had all positioned themselves, Dreven gestured with his wand to raise the protective shield around them and block all senses of sight and sound from their gathering. He looked at each of his fellow leaders, then nodded. “As always, first, we must speak of the past. Pesharn, your attack did not go as planned.”
The dwarf who stood between him and the Kilomea offered a gruff, “Indeed. Do tell us the details of your failure.” As always, the robe and cowl helped to conceal part of his face, but he still clanked with the sound of the armor beneath the soft façade.
The Kilomea stretched to her full height and glared contemptuously at her stubby accuser. “Accessing the prison itself was always a hope, rather than a plan. It is no surprise that the humans protected it adequately, given the power of the individuals they incarcerate within. However, the building they used as a decoy provided a very satisfying explosion.”
The dark-skinned gnome at her side added, “Which we took credit for, revealing the Remembrance to the authorities, as planned. My people have spread the word of our existence through the magical communities on Earth, seeking new recruits to join us in future successes. To call it a failure is to overstate the matter, Jarkko.” The dwarf nodded in acknowledgment but displayed no sign of regret or responsibility.
Iressa’s sultry tones washed over them all, and she extended her hands wide. “Peace, friends. The assault accomplished our intent. That it was far too conservative an effort is not Pesharn’s fault. It is all of yours. Ours.” It was obvious she didn’t believe she shared in that failure. Dreven met her gaze and tilted his head slightly. She smiled and continued, “Now, it is time to think bigger. We must set the stage and bring the curtain down on our enemies with a major strike at the opposition, both above and below the surface.”
Their leader nodded. “So, let us speak of the future. What shall we do? I will reserve my own comments for the end.” He held a hand out to the dwarf.
Jarkko frowned and folded his burly arms. “Another strike. Bigger. Bolder. And then another after that until our enemies are driven into retreat, where we can crowd them and crush them.”
Surprisingly martial today, aren’t we, my friend? Speaking of martial…
Dreven gestured toward Pesharn.
The Kilomea did not speak for several moments as she pondered the situation. “Our prey is spooked. It may be wise to stalk in the shadows until they lower their guard. I would suggest a time of preparation to ready ourselves and our adherents for a larger strike. If we wished, we could always thin the herd should opportunities appear in the meantime.”
The gnome shook his head. “No. We have momentum now and mustn’t lose it. More successes will inspire more followers, increasing our numbers and building our influence on Earth.”
Iressa stepped seamlessly into the gap as he paused. “We need not choose one or the other. We plan for a large act and hint about it to our minions, providing enough information to keep them hooked without going into detail. This addresses Ushev’s concern.” She raised a graceful palm to show off her long fingers adorned with rings and silence any potential detractors as she continued her speech. Her black nails glinted dangerously. “Then we distract the human authorities with smaller attacks in all the cities where our enemy is located. We use those assaults to occupy our foes, while we gather material and power. Then, it will all coalesce into a single mammoth strike where they least expect it.”
Dreven made a show of considering her words. He had already decided to back her play and enjoyed the experience of hearing his own plans spoken in her voice. While he had believed all along that bigger was better, he’d allowed the group to try its more conservative approach. Success or failure in those efforts suited his needs, regardless. New developments required different plans, though. “I agree with Iressa. The time for bold action is now, but we can work both in the shadows and in the sunlight.”
Jarkko growled. “We have to deal forcefully with these meddling humans. What we’ve done is clearly not enough. Stopping supplies is all well and good, but it does not send the message that they should fear us. They must learn that they are dealing with powers beyond their ability to control or even comprehend.”
“I agree with the need to act against them directly,” Pesharn said. “Several of my people have either died by their hands or now rot in captivity. We have underestimated this force time and again. They deserve respect as worthy adversaries, and they have earned our best efforts to destroy them before they can interfere again.”
Ushev shook his head. “I disagree with placing so much of our focus on this new group of humans. Don’t forget the other authorities. It would be foolish to disregard the Paranormal Defense group. There are others to consider as well. Fortunately, attacking any of them will be both easy and a good show for our followers.”
Iressa’s voice was disarmingly friendly. “We can and shall cause trouble for all of them, friend Ushev. But we must recognize those who interfered with the attack on the prison as our primary concern. They set themselves against us in a way the others have not, first in their capital city, and now in the one above the Kemana Stonehaven.” She hissed the last word as if she were personally offended by the underground settlement.
Dreven nodded. “We will apply pressure against this group in every possible way. The politicians we own are already making plans to that end, and once we identify their new supply channels, they will be blocked as well.”
Jarkko spread his burly arms wide. “And in the meantime, shall we simply wait? As Ushev has mentioned, we risk losing our momentum.” Murmurs of agreement mingled with nods of approval traversed the circle in order until the floor was Dreven’s again.
“In fact, there is a great opportunity at hand, a chance to make a sta
tement as impressive as the one at the prison.” Anger and suspicion greeted his contribution. He raised his hands placatingly. “Yes, this is new information, but I only learned of it recently and believed it could wait until this meeting.” He gestured, and the projection of a suit of armor appeared over his closed fist. The image was slightly translucent as it rotated, and the pieces shifted from obsidian to scarlet and back again.
“Rhazdon’s Defense,” Pesharn whispered. The others’ eyes widened at her identification of the item.
The wizard nodded. “Yes. As usual, the humans do not know what they possess. This was unearthed at one of their archeological digs, and it is currently in transport. They are aware that it is powerful, and they are treating it with great care. There are three possibilities under discussion to deliver it to its destination in a mountain facility in Colorado. We will rely on our politicians to discover which is selected and strike to secure it for ourselves.”
The dwarf barked a harsh laugh. “I'll look very good in that armor.”
Pesharn growled, and Ushev laughed. Issera stared at Dreven with lustful promise on her face. He glanced away hurriedly.
Sadly, none of us shall claim that prize, but that’s not information you need at the present moment.
“We can determine its use once we capture it. Doing so will require significant resources.” The others nodded their heads in silent acknowledgment of their responsibility to provide said resources, namely in the form of forces to confront the humans. He dropped the protective shield to end the discussion.
The leaders disbanded without further comment. Issera departed with an exaggerated sashay that caused her dress to rustle across the ground. Jarkko clanked in counterpoint to Pesharn’s heavy steps. Ushev was as silent as ever when he departed through his portal, and Dreven was finally left alone in the courtyard.
He paused for a moment to let his mind settle, then summoned his own portal and stepped through to his problematic underling’s receiving room. Nehlan scampered in moments after his entry and bowed. “Welcome, Master. The table is being set. Please, come this way.”
He gestured and fled the area. The elf’s experience with the tentacles had fractured something in his spirit, which gave him the air of one desperate to satisfy and terrified of the consequences should he fail. Dreven was mostly convinced it was a true reflection but remained open to the possibility that his subordinate was somehow attempting to be clever.
If he is, his efforts will fail as always.
He entered the dining room, took the appointed seat, and cast a quick spell to block the entrance behind him. It was an insult to his host and recognition that trust between them was not what it should be due to his failures. He ate without fear, having long since secured his own antidote to the poisons Nehlan used. His subordinate sat and nibbled joylessly at his food as he waited for Dreven to pierce the silence.
Definitely broken. Perhaps I left the tentacles on him for too long.
The wizard swallowed and patted his lips with a heavy cloth napkin that matched the plates perfectly. “We will conduct operations against the humans who prevented you from kidnapping the ambassador and interfered in our attack on the prison. This is an opportunity for you to redeem some small part of your failure. Have you rebuilt your human forces?”
Nehlan didn’t raise his eyes from his plate. “Y-yes, master. They are not of the same level of power, as none have been gifted with artifacts, but they are formidable.”
Dreven nodded. “Very good. Send them out to gather information about our enemies and work with them to increase their skills. We won’t underestimate this new opposition again. Your people will be called upon soon. And, perhaps, you personally as well.”
The elf paled, and the wizard smiled.
Repair yourself quickly, little minion, lest you find yourself discarded.
Chapter Eight
They entered the Capitol Building as tourists. Taggart took point and Cara and Diana trailed behind. The ARES leader seemed to possess a knack for disguise, first transforming himself into an unassuming older man, and then assisting them to change hairstyles and clothing choices to blend in better with the general public. Diana had been forced to trade her leather jacket for a Capitol varsity replacement, and Cara wore a decidedly boring sweater in an unattractive shade of beige.
It had been necessary to leave their guns at the SAC’s office, but she had the non-metallic knives in her boots and the pepper spray that looked like mace attached to her key chain. Cara was never unarmed as long as she had at least two limbs remaining and would probably still be dangerous with only one. A certain Monty Python sketch played in Diana’s mind as fake blood spurted from the black knight’s shoulders. Just a flesh wound.
They separated from the tour shortly after it started and entered an underground tunnel through an unmarked door. Taggart had explained they would meet in one of the several office buildings that served the Senate and House members. She lost track of their direction after a few minutes of twists and turns, but he eventually delivered them to a conference room. It was bigger than hers and featured a much larger oval table. Institutional tan walls were accented with a chair rail, a pair of whiteboards on opposite sides, and a prominent display at the front. They arrived to find the space empty, and Diana realized with a sad sigh that there wasn’t a coffeemaker anywhere to be seen.
Taggart patted her shoulder sympathetically. “I don’t know why anyone bothers to have meetings without coffee. They're asking for problems.” He led them to seats along one side and sat between them. “Okay, so, this is an official briefing, such as it is. There won’t be minutes or records, but in all other respects, this is where the big decisions are made. It’s also where the council members attempt to manage us.”
Cara laughed softly. “And how does that usually work out?”
The head of ARES DC grinned and brushed a hand through his crewcut. “Not as well as they’d prefer most of the time, I think.” He leaned back in his chair. “Aaron Finley will be here. We like him and he’s fairly sharp. Other than that, I’m not sure who else will attend. However, since they organized this gathering, it’s likely we’ll be graced with another senator or two.”
“What do they want to talk about?” Diana asked.
He shrugged. “They haven't shared that information, but my money says it's about the Cube.”
She pushed her momentary nervousness away. “What’s your take, anyway?”
“Your team did excellent work. The council might complain about losing the building, but we didn’t put any of the teams together with the expectation that they’d do bomb disposal. We already require that skill on all future rollouts, however, and plan to add them to existing locations.”
Diana clasped one hand in the other to stop the incessant need to squeeze someone’s neck for making trouble in her city. “Other than that?"
“Budget, warnings of things they’ve heard, more attempts to make us behave. There’s no way to tell.”
Further questioning was prevented when the door at the opposite end of the room banged open. Three people she recognized but hadn’t met strode through in the midst of an animated discussion. They were soon followed by one man she definitely knew, Aaron Finley. She stood and shook hands across the table with each of the senators.
Finley made a round of introductions as they all found their places. He was positioned at the middle left, and the female senator was seated at the middle right. She was forty-something and radiated health and wealth from the top of her perfectly dyed black coif to the tips of her Ferragamo shoes. The hair fell in waves to her shoulders to frame a face that would have looked perfect on a movie star. Diana recalled coverage of her during the last election and had thought at the time that people would be crazy to vote for her. Her name was Janet Cyphret, the senior senator from South Carolina.
Well, we’re screwed now.
Cyphret was vocally concerned with both the budget and the performance of multiple government age
ncies, and she had a reputation as a power-player. The woman looked at the men on either end of her side of the table and nodded grimly. Only one of them returned the gesture.
Naturally, she spoke first. Her sharp condescending tone made Diana want to grab a set of earplugs.
Or a stun gun.
“Your team’s adventure in Pittsburgh was a dismal failure, Agent Sheen. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Taggart’s light touch on her arm reminded her of the need for civility, regardless of the woman’s provocation, and she reined in her initial impulse to respond with a level of snark appropriate to the question. “Ma’am, we successfully defended the prison from incursion. The enemy had not previously used explosives, so there was no reason to expect it. We responded to what confronted us in the moment, and no innocent lives were lost.”
“No lives, but a multimillion-dollar building was very badly mangled.”
“True, Senator. Unfortunately, it appears that someone who was read in on the project revealed the presence of the Cube and its location far ahead of time. That certainly wasn’t within our purview.”
The woman looked sufficiently mollified as she leaned back in her chair, although the twitch at the corners of her lips betrayed the smug smirk that lay behind the mask.
Let’s get into the ring, wench, and see what you’re really made of.
“SAC Taggart, do you feel that setting up additional locations is still viable, given the failures of the Pittsburgh office?”
Diana locked her muscles against the urge to stand and respond. Taggart’s smooth drawl was calming, and she realized she only ever heard it when he tried to defuse a situation.
He’s a chameleon. I bet he was a Face at some point.
“Failure is a strong word, Senator. The unit responded admirably and provided all the support Warden Murphy requested or required. Simply put, they did their jobs and did them well. The fact that we failed to predict the need for a bomb tech is a collective mistake that rests with everyone on every team—and with this council.”
