Iron Angels

by Eric Flint

  Jasper asked the obvious questions, like “Head to Wayland right now?” “Who did what?” “Anyone hurt?” But Carlos didn’t provide details, only broad strokes. With Jasper awakened from an alcohol-soaked sleep, he’d probably missed half of what Carlos told him anyway.

  He rolled up to the hotel and found Temple sitting on the curb with her head down, resting on her arms, which in turn rested on her knees. Her head came up as he stopped the car. She too squinted the squint of someone fighting a long night and no sleep.

  Jasper reached over and flung the passenger’s side door open. “How does it feel?”

  “Excuse me?” Her lips looked dry.

  Jasper laughed. “Seeing you like this makes it all worth it.”

  “What are you talking about?” She slumped into the seat and slammed the door.

  A bell dinged. Dinged. Dinged.

  “Fasten your seat belt, please,” Jasper said, “unless you love hearing the car complain. The dinging won’t stop; believe me, I know.”

  She wrestled with the shoulder strap and fumbled with the clasp for a few seconds while the car kept bitching.

  “A lovely morning.” Jasper glanced over at Temple, who stared at him with slitted eyes. Did he notice a hint of murder lingering in her gaze? “Oh, relax. I’m just giving you a hard time. You know, payback for you dragging me out of a restful slumber yesterday?”

  “Whatever. Hey, you didn’t get me a coffee?”

  “Nope.”

  “At least I got you some coff—”

  “I wouldn’t call that stuff coffee.”

  “Stop somewhere, please,” she said. “And turn down the air.” She hugged herself.

  “You know, this is the first time since I met you that you look uncomfortable and out of sorts.”

  She glared.

  “But don’t get me wrong, you still managed to pull yourself together.”

  She was still glaring. Jasper smiled and reached for his coffee. “I’ll stop somewhere for you, but I’m not turning down the air. My car. My rules.”

  He related what he’d learned, and stopped off so Temple could grab a coffee and something to eat. Temple had left Vance behind—he’d go to the FBI office and put together what they’d learned so far and wait for the rest of the reports to come in, which would include the medical examiner’s.

  They drove in silence the rest of the way, with Temple huddled and pushed into the seat as deeply as possible, sipping coffee with both hands wrapped around the cup.

  * * *

  The early time of day allowed them to reach Wayland Precision in short order. Two burly men stood out front. They could have been Penny’s brothers, or at least somehow related to the Stahlbergs.

  One of the men directed them to the gate on the west side of the building. The chain links rattled and the wheels squeaked as the gate retracted. Jasper drove to the parking lot at the rear of the building. Standing there, looking pissed off, were Steve and Penny, while Carlos nervously paced. A group of people, presumably employees, were gathered around the rear entrance and on the concrete ramp leading up to the same rear entrance.

  Jasper took a deep breath and put the Charger in park. He finished his coffee and stepped out of the car. Temple followed.

  The air had cooled a bit during the course of the night. Although the sun was now over the horizon, the summer heat hadn’t yet hit.

  Everything around Jasper seemed amplified—the din of the Wayland folks’ conversation, the gravel crunching under his and Temple’s feet as they walked, the rumble of a train passing nearby, even Temple sipping her coffee. If only the aspirin and the caffeine would fully kick in and provide a respite.

  Carlos broke from the group and reached Jasper before he got too close to Steve and Penny.

  “What’s going on?” Temple asked.

  The young Hispanic man turned his head. “I lied to you about a few things, and I think she’s come back to bite me, bite everyone in the ass.”

  Jasper stopped walking.

  “What did you lie about?”

  “Remember the waitress?”

  “Yeah, so what? What does she have to—hold on. Are you saying you did date the waitress? Aren’t you married? You told me you were married, right? Yeah, when you phoned in the tip regarding the kidnapped girl.”

  “Wait a second,” Temple broke into the conversation. “You’re saying the waitress is involved with the break-in? The kidnappings and the murders, and the—”

  “I—I’m not sure.” Carlos stammered.

  Penny strode with purpose toward them, but Steve remained behind. She pushed Carlos aside. “He tell you what happened yet? He tell you about how stupid he was? Is. Will continue to be?”

  Carlos shrank, as if he’d lost a few inches of height.

  Jasper held up his hands and Temple took a step toward Penny.

  “Back off,” Penny stared down Temple. That was quite a feat. Jasper was impressed.

  “We’re here to help.” Jasper moved in between the two women, both with hands on their hips. “Tell us what happened, please.”

  “Wayland Precision was broken into last night.” Penny glanced back at Carlos. “You don’t need to be a part of this conversation.” Carlos skulked off. Steve waved him over to his group at the rear entrance.

  “Do you suspect him?” Temple asked.

  “We’re not sure,” Penny said. “He’s the one who found we’d been broken into, and then he informed us he thinks he knows who did the breaking and entering.”

  “Wouldn’t that be a little in your face?” Jasper asked. “And then for him to stay around and admit it to you all?”

  Penny sighed. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “Show us what happened.”

  Steve glared from his perch at the rear entrance.

  “What’s his deal?” Temple nodded at Steve.

  “He doesn’t want your help, and I’m not sure you can be of much help.”

  “Why?”

  “Never mind for now.” Penny gestured at a window near the base of the building. “The window leads into the basement, directly into our office, and was left open.”

  “By who?”

  “My father and I never open those windows, but we were the last ones out of the building. We should’ve noticed.”

  “Let me guess, Carlos.”

  Penny grimaced. “Yes.”

  “But that doesn’t necessarily mean he was complicit.”

  “Anything stolen or vandalized?” Temple asked.

  “Stolen, yes. Nothing vandalized.”

  “How does Carlos know who did this? I mean, he somehow figured out the perpetrator was the waitress, Eulalia,” Temple said. “Is this a revenge thing, to get back at him for having an affair with her while he was married?”

  “Let me show you a few things.” Penny took them up the ramp toward Steve and pointed at a metal object resting on the concrete.

  Jasper kneeled and examined the object without touching it. “A lock pick, well, part of a lock picking set. What, the pick’s engraved with her name?”

  “The lock pick didn’t give her away,” Penny said. “We found something in the office—mistakenly left behind, I’m sure.”

  Steve came over. Jasper gazed up at the big man, who stood there arms folded and appearing impossibly broad across the chest, like an angered Norse god ready to pummel the nearest mortal.

  “We are not asking for your help,” Steve said. “We can handle this ourselves.”

  “But there’s been a break-in, and Carlos stated you were all in danger. Why does he think that?”

  Penny’s mouth parted, but Steve placed a hand on her shoulder and her lips sealed.

  “Come on.” Jasper stood. “We’re not the bad guys here. I want to help. Agent Black wants to help. We have resources at our disposal, we—”

  “Our group has dealt with this sort of menace before.” Steve’s face reddened, nearly matching the port wine birthmark adorning the entire side of his fa
ce.

  “What does any of that statement mean? Your group?” Jasper glanced at the small crowd of men gathered nearby. “I thought they were your employees. And what’s this about a menace?”

  Steve folded his arms again and leaned against the brick wall.

  “Follow me.” Penny opened the back door.

  “Penny,” Steve said, “don’t.”

  “Father, I’m sorry, but we should ask their opinion on a few items. Maybe we’re not dealing with what you believe is happening and Carlos’s fling is simply coming back to haunt him.” Steve sighed and turned away.

  “Leave the lock pick on the ground,” Jasper said. “Any other evidence out here?”

  “We can tell where Lali walked across the grass and where she went over the fence.” Penny guided them into the building and led them down into the office.

  The vegetal and metal scents flooded Jasper’s nose, and the tangy film coated his tongue.

  “I wish I understood why you grew mushrooms in a place like this,” Jasper said. “You all seem eccentric, but this is just plain weird.”

  Temple remained quiet; perhaps the lack of sleep doused her natural combativeness.

  Penny, too, said not another word until they entered the office. “Lali never got past this door, right here. All the security in the world doesn’t make up for lack of attention to detail—like the simple act of shutting a blasted window.”

  “True enough.” Jasper thought about her comment, lack of attention to detail. “Was your father in the military? Navy or Marines perhaps? I’m a Marine, myself.”

  “Navy,” Penny said, “but not my father—I served. Enlisted, too.”

  “You must have been young,” Jasper said.

  “I served for one tour, four years, and got out.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t imagine a full twenty years of alternating sea and shore duty every couple of years. If I’d stayed in I’d have over ten years active duty already.”

  How old did that make her, then? If she’d gone in at eighteen then she’d only be around thirty right now, right?

  He needed to stop thinking this way. He was too damaged by his divorce from Lucy to even consider jumping into the pool again.

  “Yep, understandable,” Jasper said. “I resigned my commission, so I’m a free man. There are times I miss the structure and camaraderie, though.”

  “Let’s talk about the office here.” Temple cut in—sensing his need for a rescue attempt. He appreciated that. There were times when he and Temple acted like real partners. They were coming more often, too.

  “She stole a lot of our personal information,” Penny said, “as well as photos and some more—I don’t know how to put this—secret information.”

  “May we go inside?” Temple asked.

  Penny flipped on the lights. “Over there, footprints. Smallish, like a woman’s.”

  Jasper squinted.

  “They’re hard to see, but they’re there. Especially near the window where she entered. Let’s go in, just be aware of where you’re stepping.”

  “I’m still puzzled how Carlos figured out Lali did all of this, and how did he arrive at the conclusion she acted alone?”

  “Good point,” Penny said, “but I only found one set of footprints inside and outside. Now, someone may have waited in a car for her—which is possible if what my father believes is actually true.”

  “Which would be what?”

  “Let’s stay on how we’re certain Lali acted alone, okay?” Jasper asked.

  Temple frowned at him.

  Jasper cocked his head slightly and widened his eyes, attempting to get Temple to play along. If they stayed partnered up long enough, most of their interactions when working a case or interviewing people would work themselves out and they’d communicate nonverbally and would simply understand how the other person would handle any given situation. They’d also both acquire a sense of when to jump in and when to stay the hell out of the way. Overall, though, as new partners they weren’t doing too poorly.

  He turned his attention to the office. Other than the footprints, it appeared to be in the same condition as when Jasper visited the day before. Even the footprints were faint: traces of dirt and grass barely shaped like feet were noticeable on the floor beneath the window.

  “So, how do we know this was Lali?” He felt as if he asked the same question over and over again and Penny avoided the explanation.

  Penny pointed at a piece of paper on the floor—a scrap of paper, hot pink in color and torn from a sticky note.

  “Well, Carlos recognized the handwriting on the note, and furthermore—”

  “What, he’s an expert on handwriting analysis, now?” Temple’s hands were once again planted on her hips. Her interactions with people so far—too standoffish at times, too aggressive at others—led Jasper to believe her experience conducting witness interviews lagged behind his.

  Penny laughed. “No, her name is on the note.”

  “Oh.” Temple looked a little embarrassed. “Sorry, didn’t mean for this to get contentious.”

  “What does the note say?” Jasper asked. “Anything on the other side? We might as well examine the note if Carlos already touched the paper. Besides, I don’t think your father is going to want to call in an evidence team or the police on this, am I right?”

  “Yes,” Penny said. “But he doesn’t have the final word on any decisions around here.”

  “No? I thought he—”

  “Wayland’s a joint operation, and as he gets older, more and more of the business is delegated to me. Including the…ah…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Uh huh,” Jasper said. Including the what? But he let that go for the moment. “Before we get to the other activities, what does the note say?”

  “Nothing important, a note from her job at the diner.”

  “Well, I’d say this pretty much seals Lali’s participation, but you—or your father—think the break-in involves something deeper?”

  “My father will be upset if I share with you. I need you to promise not to mention any of what I tell or show you to anyone outside, got it? No one.”

  Penny’s gaze fixed on Jasper for a few seconds, then Temple. Seeing the resistance in their expressions, she shook her head. “Look, I don’t expect you to keep anything illegal to yourselves. But this isn’t…it’s just…well, hard to explain.”

  “Just tell us all you can,” Jasper said, “but understand, we’ve seen some jacked-up stuff the past couple of days not easily explained. Not through investigation, and not through traditional science, though we’ve made some inquiries. Can you explain mangled bodies with clear liquid dripping from them rather than blood? Or mists appearing like dragons?”

  “Yes, I can. There is a cult—”

  “The kidnappers, I’m guessing?” Jasper asked.

  Penny nodded. “Carlos watched a few of the suspected cultists, but we weren’t sure they’d moved into the area. They’re called the Câ Tsang.”

  “The Kah Sang?” Temple raised an eyebrow and glanced at Jasper, then back at Penny. “What does the name mean? Where are they from?”

  “It means ‘Iron Thorn.’ They originated in Bhutan. We’re not entirely certain of when they were established, but they’ve been around longer than our group.”

  Jasper snapped his fingers. “The papers I saw here last time, Völundr’s Hammer, right?”

  “Yes. Wayland Precision is a cover—a real business, of course, that usually turns a profit every year—but its main purpose is still to be a cover for the guild. The name Wayland is based on the old myth of Wayland the Smith.”

  Jasper grinned and looked at Temple. “See? I told you all of this was the work of some asshole cult. Didn’t we make a bet on this?” He nudged Temple.

  She held up a finger. “Not so fast. What is the cult’s purpose? And what makes your guild willing and able to fight them?”

  “They seek demonic power from—let’s call it the hell world. Or just ‘the other wor
ld.’ The reason we can fight them is…well, we’ve been doing it for a very long time and we have a lot of experience. Unlike the Câ Tsang, the guilds of the Blacksmith aren’t monolithic in nature and they’re all quite different in their origin. Ours originated in Scandinavia.”

  “Originated—how long ago?” asked Temple.

  Penny hesitated. “We’re not actually sure. Several centuries.”

  “And you’re saying this Kah Sang cult has been around even longer?”

  Penny nodded.

  “How many are we talking about here?” Jasper asked.

  “Members or cults?”

  Jasper and Temple looked at each other. “You’re saying there’s more than one cult, too?” asked Temple. “I thought you said there was only one.”

  “No. What I meant was that the various Blacksmith guilds generally cooperate with each other, but the cults don’t. The relations between them are hostile. To the point of being deadly, more often than not, when they clash with each other.”

  Jasper thought he finally understood how Alice felt, when she fell into the rabbit hole. “And…just how many cults are we talking about?”

  “Here in this area? Just the Câ Tsang. So far as we know, they’re the only Nephilim cult operating in the United States. Well…east of the Mississippi, anyway. We occasionally hear rumors about things happening in California, but…” She waved her hand. “You know how it is with California. There’s always something weird happening out there.”

  He grabbed onto the one new item in what she’d said. “Nefillin? What’s that?”

  Temple was now squinting at Penny. “She didn’t say ‘Nefillin,’ she said ‘Nephilim.’ They’re mentioned in the Bible a few times. Usually as giants of some kind, if I remember right. But I don’t really know much about them.”

  “No one does,” said Penny. “The truth is, we don’t really know if they have any connection at all to the Nephilim of the Bible. We’ve just been using that term for them out of tradition—and no one remembers anymore when the tradition started.” She shrugged. “People have been arguing about them for several thousand years. The original theory was that they were the offspring of fallen angels and human women. Not Lucifer and his crowd but a different bunch. Later, most theologians thought they were illegitimate offspring from the line of Seth. The most detailed depictions of them come from the Book of Enoch, but that’s not recognized as canonical by any church except the Ethiopian and Eritrean Orthodox churches.”