Agents, Agreements and Aggravations: In Her Paranormal Majesty’s Secret Service™ Book Three

by Anderle, Michael

  Cassie followed suit and nearly fell off her chair. Their reaction was enough to make the other heads of houses command their number twos to retrieve their packages.

  Darius stepped behind his chair and placed his hands on the backrest. Sitting smugly on the chair was the ghostly visage of the Dragon, known affectionately to his former comrades as Peter Zhao.

  Vincenzo removed the glasses. There was a green LED strip along the top of the frame that pulsed with a strange kind of energy. He placed them back on, not quite understanding what he was seeing. “Is this some kind of trick? Some sort of VR or AR, or whatever it is they’re calling it, these days?”

  Zhao shook his head, a smug grin stretching ear to ear. “This is no trick, friends. There is no illusion here. Everything you need to know, I will tell you, but first, you have to believe it is me, talking to you from beyond the grave.”

  “Bullshit!” Doltan cried, hurling his glasses at the wall. The lenses shattered. “What trickery is this?”

  To those who could see him, Zhao closed his eyes, and in the next second, every person in the room except Darius, who had been prepared for such an event, clasped their hands to their ears. A shrill, glass-shattering scream filled their heads and made their eyes throb. They grimaced, and Sammy Garcia’s nose began to bleed.

  The screaming stopped.

  “What was that?” Vincenzo asked.

  Zhao opened his eyes and gave the group his warmest smile. “That’s the whistle, gentlemen. It signifies that life is about to change in New York. A new race has started, and I want you all to join me as we see just how far we can bend this city before it breaks.”

  * * *

  It was strange being back inside the Radio City Music Hall.

  Jennie remembered the first time she had been here. Her first encounter with Baxter felt like a lifetime ago. Although, in truth, most of her life felt that way.

  It must have been a dead night for the Music Hall. The place was absolutely deserted. Baxter kept getting distracted by his old haunt as he showed them the way to the basement, and it took a lot longer than Jennie had hoped.

  Ruby kept in step with Jennie, occasionally throwing an admiring glance her way. “How are you so confident about your hunches? What real evidence is there that we’re going to find them?” It wasn’t an accusation, merely a comment.

  “Experience,” Jennie replied. “I’ve been doing this for long enough now that I know what is right and what isn’t. Specters can leave clues in the wake of tremendous power, and that is often their downfall, especially those who choose to use their gifts for evil.”

  Ruby considered this. “But a room you’ve never visited under the Rockefeller Center? How did you know that?”

  Jennie tapped a finger to her nose. “Even architecture leaves its clues. Once you’ve lived as long as I have, you begin to pick up on the grain of the wood, the grading of the glass, the intricacies of the marble, and the metal.”

  Even Baxter looked impressed. “Wow, really?”

  “No.” Jennie laughed. “The Dragon held the location in his head. There was even a flash of an invitation written in calligraphy that mentioned the meeting location.”

  Ruby chuckled.

  The basement was nothing more than a cold stone space free from clutter and as cold as the grave. Baxter stood by a crack in the floor and shouted, “Geronimo!” He took a small hop and then sunk through the floor and into the tunnels below.

  The mortals among them raised their eyebrows. Rhone scratched his head. “I’m not being difficult, but most of us can’t do that. How are we supposed to follow you?”

  Jennie latched onto Baxter and jumped where he had jumped, her body disappearing through the floor. A moment later, a tile that had formerly been all but invisible popped free and scraped across the floor.

  “Here you go, sirs.” She beamed and turned to Julia and Ruby. “And ladies.”

  They piled in one by one. Only Julia hesitated before the gaping darkness in the floor.

  Jennie waited for her. “Problem?”

  “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” Julia complained. Worry lines marked her brow. “You’re telling me that on the other side of this tunnel we’re going to contain a bunch of mob bosses before they have a chance to react? What if they’re armed?”

  Jennie pushed herself back up and sat on the lip of the hole. She patted the floor beside her and Julia took a seat. “I wouldn’t have brought you along here if I didn’t think you could handle yourself. The truth is, I don’t want you front and center for this. I want you to observe what goes down from afar. You’re a scholar at heart, and out of everyone here, you’re the most informed on spectral histories and archetypes. Second only to myself.” She nodded to Julia’s hip. “You have a pistol, but that’s only a backup. We’ll handle it in there, but all you have to do is monitor the situation, okay?”

  Julia nodded and carefully lowered herself down. Roman supported her, easing her down to her feet on the tunnel’s uneven floor.

  Jack and Rhone engaged their flashlights and illuminated the way ahead. They walked in relative silence toward the Rockefeller Center, not knowing what was going to happen when they arrived.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Richmond, Virginia, USA

  Lupe awoke from his nap, dazed and confused.

  His sleep schedule was all over the place, and his body had taken its time to adjust to the change of scenery now that he had taken full residence at King’s Court. The sun was still pouring through the curtains, although at a guess he figured it was nearer to evening than it was to morning.

  He stretched and headed out of his room.

  It was a long way from his bedroom to the ground floor. A number of staircases stood in his way, and it was almost five minutes later that he walked into the living area and paused in the doorway.

  The house was all but silent. Usually he could hear Sandra giggling and playing with new technologies Jennie had ordered in, but there was nothing now. The only sign of life that Lupe could see was the shriveled old man sitting cross-legged on the couch with a bowl of cereal cradled in his lap.

  He gave an awkward wave. “Hi.”

  Hendrick froze with his spoon in his mouth.

  Lupe looked over his shoulder as if hoping that someone else would appear would actually make it happen. He couldn’t recall a time he’d ever been left alone with Hendrick, and actually any particular time in which they had spoken more than a few words together.

  Hendrick finished his mouthful and placed the spoon back in the bowl. He stared at Lupe with studious eyes, his gaze fixing on his leg. “How is it?”

  Lupe had no idea what Hendrick was talking about. “How’s what?”

  “Your leg,” Hendrick clarified. “It was hurt. I fixed it.”

  Realization dawned on Lupe, the memory of the wooden splinter in his leg coming back in a painful wave. “Oh, right. Yeah. It’s good.” He wiggled the leg in the air. “Thanks.”

  Another beat of silence passed between them, made heavier by the enormity of the house. Lupe once more looked around him for the others. It seemed strange that they were alone, and he wondered if he were still in the throes of some dream.

  “Where’s Tanya?” he asked at last.

  Hendrick’s attention had returned to his cereal. The awkwardness that was clear in Lupe’s body language had clearly not crossed over to Hendrick, who seemed more than comfortable enjoying his food.

  Hendrick shrugged his shoulders. “They went out. Something about some group in the city. I’m surprised you’re not with them.”

  Lupe clapped a hand to his forehead. “The Paranormanimals. I was supposed to go with them, why didn’t they wait for me?” Annoyance crossed over his features. “They really left without me?”

  “I guess,” Hendrick replied passively.

  Lupe sighed and took a seat on the couch across from Hendrick. He racked his brain for an answer. “Why wouldn’t they wake me up? We’re supposed to
be in this together. I could’ve been some help.”

  Hendrick placed his bowl down and reached for a cup of something sweet-smelling but that Lupe couldn’t identify. “Jennie asked for people to watch the house. With Ula, Roman, and Triton gone, the reins fall to you and me.” He slurped loudly, gasped, then placed the drink down. He brought the bowl back to his lap. “We’re a team now.”

  Lupe wasn’t sure whether to laugh at this or not. “The conduits are gone, too? Where?”

  Hendrick shrugged again, the repetitiveness of the action beginning to grate on Lupe. “Not my concern.”

  Lupe stewed in a swamp of abandonment. His blood boiled, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. What made things worse was the Zen exterior of the little man across from him, and how unmarred he was by everything.

  Hendrick finished his bowl and tilted his head, his keen eyes boring into Lupe’s. “Look at it this way, you’re trusted by Jennie to keep the house safe. Everyone plays a part, but not everyone can play an active part. Do you think I’d ever been out in the field before we purged this house of its darkness? No. My life has been spent in laboratories examining the mysteries of science and the spectral realm. I have no bad feelings. Combat is not my forte, and I’ve learned over the years to accept that.”

  Lupe thought back to all of his involvement in the spectral realm since he had first encountered specters in New York and had accidentally formed the Spectral Plane. He had loved the attention that had come with being needed as head of the group, but combat was not his strong point. Sure, he had provided support on a number of missions, but with Jennie’s skills, and now the conduits and agents, too, there seemed to be little room left for him to fight the bad guys first-hand.

  Without saying a word, Hendrick seemed to understand what Lupe was thinking. He rose to his feet, although it didn’t give him anything extra in height compared to his position on the couch, and placed his hands in his pockets. “You know, with this new setup in King’s Court, I’m likely going to be in the market for a new assistant soon. If this thing explodes the way Jennie is hoping—and knowing her, I’m more than confident it will—I’m going to need more hands on deck.”

  Lupe let out a derisive laugh. “Me? Come on, I don’t know the first thing about any of that mumbo jumbo science. I’ll hold you back rather than help you.”

  Hendrick shrugged once more. “Son, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m really old, and no amount of elixirs or concoctions are going to keep me living forever. I’ve already evaded natural death by a number of years, and I continue to keep trying as long as I live.”

  “How old are you?” Lupe asked.

  “Don’t interrupt,” Hendrick snapped. “Point is, I need to pass on my knowledge so that others may learn and keep my legacy alive, the same way my mentor did before me. It’s the only true path to immortality, at least that I’ve found so far.”

  Lupe chewed his lip. “What about Proctor? Didn’t he—”

  “Proctor was a bone head with his ego so far up his ass that he couldn’t see the woods through the trees. Helpful, yes, but with his own motives. A guy with a blackened heart. I need courage and earnestness and honesty and someone who has fought for good and is willing to learn. Is that you?”

  Lupe wasn’t sure of the answer. After a moment’s silence, Hendrick turned and shuffled away, calling, “Decision’s in your hands, Sanchez.”

  Lupe sat alone in that room for a long while, trying his best to figure his place in all of this. Perhaps it was about time that he looked at things differently and learned a new craft that could really contribute to the success of King’s Court.

  New York City, New York, USA

  The tunnels led them into a series of underground corridors that looked to have been all but abandoned over time. The walls were covered in cobwebs, sconces held dead torches, and the smell of mildew and earth was rife in the air.

  Jennie followed her gut, already sensing the spectral power around her. They were nearby, but Jennie had no idea what to expect. From what she could sense, there was only one of them. Hopefully that would work in her favor.

  All was painfully silent. She turned to the others and held a finger to her lips, approaching a door that had been handled recently by others. The rusted brass handles were free from dust, and handprints littered the door.

  Jennie waited until they were all gathered near, ensuring Julia was far back and out of reach. She held up three fingers and began her countdown. The others readied their weapons, unsure what to expect, relying on the element of surprise to aid them.

  She reached zero and shouldered the door.

  It swung open readily, slamming into the wall. They stormed in shouting and aimed their weapons, tracking everyone in the room, ready to lock the place down and stop whatever the hell was going on in this place.

  Jennie’s stomach fell. The wind was knocked out of their sails as they fixed their gazes on the only two people in the room.

  The Dragon sat placidly at the far end of a long table. He grinned, looking healthier than they had ever seen him—minus the spectral glow. Offset behind him, was a man in all black fatigues with a dark crop of hair, his arms laced behind his back as he stood to attention.

  “Jennie!” The Dragon swept his arms wide as if greeting an old friend. “I wondered how long it would be until you showed up. Call me crazy, but something told me that you’d be the smart one to figure your way here.”

  Jennie stared levelly at him. “How did you know?”

  The Dragon shrugged. “Same way you did, I suppose.” He rose to his feet, stretching his legs and experimenting with his newfound mobility. “This spectral plane is something incredible, isn’t it? To think I was terrified of plunging myself into this dimension for years. Years! The possibilities that exist, the powers that can be wielded, it’s no wonder you’d rather play with specters than mortals.”

  Jennie turned to the agents and shook her head. “Don’t listen to him.”

  The Dragon continued, not even looking at his guests, but instead his eyes wide with hungry fascination as he lost himself in his thoughts. “Little did I know the powers they would bring. Specters have a wonderful array of gifts to be utilized, but this…” He glanced at Jennie. “We’re connected, you know?”

  Jennie folded her arms. “I highly doubt that.”

  The Dragon moved toward her. Ula, Roman, and Triton raised their weapons to their eye line, and for the first time, the Dragon paused, the smile not fading from his face. “But we are. I saw you. You tapped into something inside me, and I saw you looking inside my head. You saw this place. You saw my intentions. Somehow you bonded yourself to me, and now I can see you.”

  Baxter frowned and stepped forward protectively. “Bullshit.”

  The Dragon’s eyes bore into Jennie’s, his smile growing wider. “Not at all. I can see you, Jennie. Shadows of your thoughts come to me. There are voices in my head, thousands of them, they drove me crazy at first, had me wondering whether I’d made the right decision in choosing this existence. But the moment you connected with me, you made yourself known. You filtered yourself out of the others, and if I really try, I can hear you.”

  His eyes grew dark. “I know all your darkest secrets, Genevieve. Everything that hides in your heart, I can hear. All I have to do is root around a little, and I can find it.”

  Jennie’s skin prickled. “You heard Bax. Bullshit.”

  The Dragon took a step forward, raising his hands instantly as the conduits flinched and threatened to fire at him. He pursed his lips and lowered his voice to little more than a whisper. “I know about Annabelle Lyons.”

  Jennie’s upper lip curled and she snarled. It wasn’t possible; how could he know? No one but Jennie knew about the little girl who had been the first demonstration of her hold on specters. Annabelle, the little spectral girl at the Savoy who had been Jennie’s first encounter.

  Jennie’s stare grew cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 
“Ah…” The Dragon chuckled. “But you do, don’t you?”

  Was he somewhere in her head right now? Could the Dragon hear the thoughts as they spun inside her mind? By the look in his eyes, she bet he could, and that made her beyond uncomfortable.

  “What is all this?” Baxter asked, breaking the tension between the pair. “Where are the others that Jennie saw?”

  The Dragon broke his fix on Jennie and returned to his seat. The man stood statuesque behind him. “They’re gone, already working on their part of the bargain. Not all of them, unfortunately—though that doesn’t surprise me, a long time has come and gone since we were all in partnership with each other. Poor old Bobby didn’t want to take the plunge and become a part of the plan, so I killed him.”

  “And turned him into a specter?” Baxter asked.

  The look the Dragon returned suggested that that wasn’t the case.

  All Baxter could say was, “Oh.”

  The Dragon placed his spectral hands on the table and looked at them each in turn. “Well, I’m sorry to say this, but you’re all too late. As it stands. I currently have five of the original seven crime lords of New York reinstating their power and demonstrating to the world that they’re back on form. There’ll be some healthy cash involved, of course, but that’s not why they’re doing this. They have all the cash they could ever need.”

  Julia’s voice came out as an uncertain squeak. She knew the ways maniacal psychopaths thought, but she had never encountered those of the spectral kind. “What have you promised them, then?”

  “Immunity,” the Dragon replied simply. “And a glimpse behind the curtain. They’re old, you see. All not too far from their own death beds. They’re having a play with some spectral friends of mine who are able to avoid the mortal police. We call it a ‘hands-off sting.’ They seemed to like that expression.”

  The Dragon turned over his shoulder. “What’s the time?”