Baxter chuckled. “You’d think so. Unfortunately, evil never sleeps. Ask Jennie, she’s been fighting this shit for over a hundred years. Without the villains, there would be no need for heroes.”
“Not necessarily,” Feng Mian countered. “There are many kinds of heroism, many small acts people are capable of that bring light to the world.”
Ruby and Jack were sitting uncomfortably in the back of the cab. The specters had squeezed in around them, and they found it almost impossible not to join in on the conversation. If they did, they were almost certain the cabbie would kick them out for acting crazy and speaking to themselves. Native New Yorkers had little tolerance for the insane.
They pulled up about a hundred meters from the warehouse. Although the cabbie couldn’t see anything amiss as he asked for their fee, Ruby and Jack were taken aback by the amount of activity taking place outside the warehouse.
There were dozens of specters, if not hundreds. They roamed the outside of the warehouse, talking to each other in groups, some in the midst of scraps as they tested their fighting skills. A few kicked their legs over the edge of the concrete dock, watching the sunset over the waters around New York City.
From the upper floors of the warehouse, where a number of balconies were littered along its edge, specters stood and watched out over the others, heads and eyes turning their way as the yellow cab waited.
“I said, twenty bucks,” the cabbie grunted. “If I have to ask again, I won’t be so kind.”
Jack snapped out of his distraction and slapped an even twenty in the cabbie’s waiting palm. They stepped out of the car and wandered toward the specters.
The closer they got, the more heads turned to examine the strangers. After a moment, a dozen or so specters who had shielded their eyes from the sunset beamed and tore over to the group. They greeted Baxter, Carolyn, and Feng Mian with eager handshakes, treating them like bona fide celebrities. Soon enough, dozens more specters surrounded them. There were some familiar faces from the fight against Worthington and the rogue group of rebels from the Paranormal Court, as well as a number of fresh-faced specters who must have been recruited in the length of time between then and now.
Questions were hurled at them. Many asked where Rogue was, and if she’d be joining them at all. Baxter and Carolyn did their best to field questions as they were all guided into the warehouse toward the makeshift bar that Jennie had left in her wake all those weeks ago.
Jack and Ruby couldn’t stop smiling. The inside of the warehouse was even busier than the outside, and it seemed strange to them both to be lost in this world that was far from their own. They’d both experienced specters in small doses, but this warehouse and its surrounding neglected buildings had become something of a shanty town for specters.
Eventually, they all found seats in what had once been the foreman’s office in the warehouse. Specters waited outside as a portly specter ushered the crowd out and allowed them all some breathing space.
Baxter laughed. “Thanks, Jimmy.”
Jimmy Dean, who had once acted as a spectral refrigerator for Jennie to store drinks as they prepared for battle, beamed at Baxter. His demeanor had changed almost entirely since that day, and it appeared as though he had become something of a leader for the Spectral Plane in New York.
Jimmy gave a hearty chuckle. “I can honestly say that I haven’t seen a reaction like that in weeks. People have really taken to this little corner of the city, but nothing gets the group more riled up than the appearance of celebrities. If Rogue had been here, too, I don’t know what they would have done!”
A woman with a tight ringlet of curls and a dark mark across her neck laughed. “They probably would have shat their pants. It takes a lot to excite a specter, but that would’ve done it.”
Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Do you have to be so crass?”
“Tell me I’m wrong,” the woman replied.
Jimmy waved a hand, his smile unfaltering. “You’ll have to excuse Amy. She lived a sheltered life and now makes it her mission to roam the city and pick up any curses and insults she comes across.”
Amy smiled, clearly pleased by this introduction. “I’m making a scrapbook.”
Ruby and Jack exchanged a look and laughed.
Amy crossed over to Jack and took a seat beside him, her face inches from his. She examined his SI glasses with interest. “Oooh! What are those?”
Jack took off his SI glasses to allow Amy to get a better look, momentarily forgetting that he’d lose his access to the specters. The glasses floated in front of him, and it was unsettling to suddenly realize that he was technically sitting in an empty office with only Ruby beside him. He looked through the glass window and the warehouse was bare, containing nothing more than dust and concrete and steel.
The feeling made him nauseous, reminding him of the feeling of slipping out of a VR experience without taking the necessary steps to readjust.
He snatched the glasses back.
“Hey!” Amy exclaimed, her voice snapping back into focus as the arms of the glasses connected with his ears. “What was that for?”
“Nothing personal,” Jack explained. “These allow me to see you guys. Without them, it feels like it’s just me and Ruby on some weird-ass date in the middle of nowhere.” He turned to Ruby. “I’m sorry, but you’re far too young for me.”
“Ewww!” Ruby exclaimed as the others fell about laughing.
Baxter came to their rescue as Amy obnoxiously floated in front of Jack’s face, eyes narrowing on the technological components of the glasses. “They’re both mortals, but they’re with us. They’re part of the SIA.”
“Of course.” Jimmy nodded knowingly since a faction of the Spectral Plane had peeled off and played a part in helping Jennie against the Queen in Virginia.
Baxter went on to explain what had happened in the interim after the Spectral Plane was sent back to New York. He described Jennie’s plan to create her own organization, momentarily forgetting that Jack and Ruby had been clueless about this.
“That’s why Jennie wanted us involved in this mission?” Jack gasped.
Baxter shook his head. “Not now.” He then went on to describe the situation with the Dragon and how they managed to find their way back to NYC.
Jimmy pinched his chin, eyes deep in thought. “There’s always trouble wherever you guys come in. I’ve ordered a group of our guys to investigate the explosion. I should’ve known it had something to do with you guys.”
“We didn’t do it,” Ruby clarified. “A psychopathic specter did it. We’re just here to pick up the pieces.”
Baxter nodded. “I hate to ask again, but we need you guys. We’ve been given a list of clues to the bombs’ locations and little time to solve them. All we know is that the bomb that went off is going to be the first of many. We really need all hands on deck to find the others and stop further destruction. Do you think you can help us?”
Jimmy considered this, staring out of the window at the specters speculating openly and pointing at Baxter, Carolyn, and Feng Mian. A wry smile crept up his mouth. “Baxter? I’m surprised you had to ask. Tell us what we need to know, and we’ll get our asses in gear. You say this is time-sensitive. How time-sensitive are we talking?”
Carolyn leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “The Dragon’s people have set five more bombs in less than five hours.”
Jimmy’s smile faded. Amy turned to him, mortified. “Is now a good time to curse?”
Jimmy nodded. “Yes, Amy. I think it is.”
“Give it your best,” Jack agreed with amusement.
Amy’s eyes flicked away while she thought. “Motherfucking dripping piss-flap of a zombie-teabagger,” she spat. “We have to stop those bombs.”
Ruby’s and Carolyn’s eyes widened as they caught each other’s stare.
Jack couldn’t hold back his grin. “Impressive.”
* * *
Roman was too big to fit inside the guard’s clothing, so he han
ded over the bundle of wrappings to Rhone.
Rhone dressed quickly, and soon enough, it was almost impossible to discern him, Ula, and Triton from the three guards who they’d hit with the blow darts.
What the hell was in those darts? Rhone wondered.
The only difference between them and the originals was that they wore their firearm harnesses over the soft, black fabric. They concealed their weapons behind their backs, covering the harness straps in the many folds of the outfits before they were ready.
Rhone took the lead and gave the thumbs up.
Ula glanced over her shoulder at the grimacing Roman. “Hands off each other, okay, ladies?”
Roman and Julia flushed hot pink and took a step away from each other.
Ula chuckled quietly as they entered the tunnel.
They stalked along the tunnel in single file, clinging to the shadows. The dark clothing they wore acted as excellent camouflage, but they couldn’t stifle their steps completely. They walked slowly and quietly until they reached the first pair of guards stationed, where Rhone and Triton split to address one each while Ula waited. Their plan was to create a fictional reason why they had to step back from the view of the other guards, then take them out of the equation.
Ula stood guard in the position where one of the guards had been, acting normally to avoid triggering suspicion in the other guards. If they saw that she was standing sentinel without a worry, the muted scuffling sounds might be ignored.
With a quick glance farther down the tunnel, Rhone and Triton shoved the pair into a recess on the opposite side of the tunnel. Rhone applied a sleeper hold to one guard while Triton took care of the other. The guards panicked and choked out the air from their lungs, and a moment later, they were unconscious and lying on the floor.
Jack stepped behind Ula, keeping out of sight. “Two more uniforms,” he muttered. “Think we should dress the others?”
“Nah,” Ula replied without turning. “They’re probably up against the wall right now, caught in the throes of passion.” She thanked God that the mask was hiding her smile.
There were two more guards stationed down the tunnel before they’d reach their final destination. These ones weren’t stupid and had clocked that something was amiss. They turned and waited for Triton and Rhone as Ula waited a safe distance back, eyeing the situation to ensure that she could jump in if needed.
“You were ordered to remain at your station,” one of the guards spat. “What are you doing?”
The other guard shifted uneasily, reaching for something at his side.
Rhone had to think fast. He couldn’t fake the other guard’s voices, he didn’t know how they sounded. Instead, he nodded at Triton and they both drew their weapons, causing both guards to freeze.
A quick glance at the guards by the bomb showed that they weren’t looking at that moment. Rhone took this as a blessing and guided his guard into the closest recess, while Triton did the same.
“Who are you?” the guard hissed.
“Your worst nightmare,” Rhone replied, masking his voice by lowering it an octave.
Dude, you sound like Batman. He flushed beneath the material of his mask, thinking how stupid he sounded. Still, best to remain consistent.
He shoved the barrel of the rifle into the guard’s stomach. There was something hard there.
Kevlar?
“How do we defuse the bomb?” Rhone asked urgently.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “How the hell should I know? You think I’m a bomb technician?”
His voice grew dangerously loud.
Rhone pressed the barrel even harder. “Keep your voice down. How long until the bomb detonates?”
The man’s eyes rolled. “Again, you think I’m given that information? Soon? All I know is that the minute boss man gives the order, we’re sprinting for safety. You think I want to be caught under a massive pile of rubble?”
Rhone studied the man. “You’re not kamikazes?”
The man scoffed. “Because of the ninja gear? Come on. That’s racist. Not all oriental warrior types are suicide bombers.”
A scuffle behind made Rhone turn and look over his shoulder to find Triton with one arm hooked around the guard’s neck, and the other desperately holding his wrist as he fought to keep a six-inch blade from stabbing into him.
That moment of distraction was all the guard needed.
Rhone was shoved back, away from the recess. He appeared in the tunnel and caught the eye of those near the bomb. The guard he had been aiming his rifle at jumped out and shouted, “Intruders! Intruders!”
The guard instantly drew a pistol and was halfway to aiming it at Rhone when Rhone pulled the trigger and shot him in the shoulder. Another bullet found his shin, and he was certain the guard was incapacitated.
Footsteps came from both sides of the tunnel as Ula ran toward them, and the guards kicked into gear to work against the intruders.
Triton choked out the guard and lay him on the floor, taking his knife and patting him down for weapons. He found a pistol and put it to work.
Rhone and Triton ducked back into the recess. Rhone peeked around and drew back quickly as stone chipped away from the bullets hitting the corner.
Shit. We need to get to the bomb. Now.
The only saving grace he could think of was that the guard laying in pain beside him had told them they weren’t suicide bombers.
Maybe he isn’t. But are the others?
Turning back the way he had come, he saw Ula out in the open. He wondered what she was doing as she aimed her weapon above Rhone’s head and shot at the wall. In her madness, she almost looked like…
Like one of them.
Rhone couldn’t help but appreciate the woman’s smarts at that moment. By looking like she was gunning for the intruders, the others would think she was on their side. That would give her a chance to get close enough to help out.
She zeroed in on them, moving across to Rhone. When she was a mere foot away from ducking out of sight, she turned her weapon on the enemy and sent a spray of bullets their way. Rhone heard the cries of pain and anguish as the enemy fell to the floor.
Ula stopped beside him, breathless but determined. “You okay?” she panted.
Rhone pulled down his mask and grinned. “Much better now you’ve stopped pointing a gun at me. That was some smart thinking.”
Ula winked.
Triton’s voice carried across to them. “When you two love birds are finished sucking each other’s dicks, can you help out, here?”
Rhone’s eyes widened as he spotted a grenade in Triton’s hand. He pulled the pin and tossed it toward the enemy.
What is he doing? There’s already one bomb to worry about!
The bomb detonated. Rhone waited for the ceiling to crumble and the tunnels to collapse, then realized what had happened as smoke billowed their way and clouded the tunnels in fog.
* * *
Julia held her hands to her ears. She had watched the action from afar, but the minute the bullets started flying, Roman had pulled her back.
His body was huge compared to hers. It was like being blocked in by a cement pillar. He wore a musky aftershave that she found oddly pleasant and her cheeks flushed as she…
No. What are you doing? All that talk of flirting has gotten into your head, girl.
She looked up into Roman’s eyes. His cheeks had a three-day rash of stubble and his grim face was set in a determined stare as he leaned across and examined the tunnel entrance.
“Aren’t you going down there to help them?” Julia asked, her voice a mouse’s whisper.
Roman grunted. “No clear path.” He touched a finger to his ear. Julia wasn’t sure why since she could see nothing there. “Triton. Operation Nimbus.”
Julia raised an eyebrow. Roman caught her look. “Micro-receivers. Flesh-colored and as small as the head of a pin. A remnant from the army.”
Julia had no idea what any of that meant, but she knew that she felt safe co
cooned by Roman’s body.
She flinched when a louder explosion came. The next thing she knew, Roman was pulling her behind him and standing in the entrance of the tunnel. “Stay close behind me. No matter where I go, use me as a shield. Got it?”
Why could Julia not stop staring at his lips at that moment? She nodded.
Roman took off at a steady pace into the smoke. Even just a few paces away, the smoke was dense enough to cause him to fade like a dark specter. She saw him draw something from his pocket and place them on his face. Whatever it was, he navigated the smoke with a certainty that she definitely didn’t feel.
Julia screamed when a bullet ricocheted above her. Rocks rained down. She side-stepped, then re-aligned herself to remain behind Roman.
He turned over his shoulder. “Every scream draws them to us. Shut up.”
Julia blushed, then fell in step.
They charged onward. Roman let off a number of shots with his rifle, joining the cacophony of what she hoped was gunfire coming from the other conduits and Rhone. Figures joined her and Roman and they continued toward the center of the tunnel, praying that a sudden explosion wouldn’t send them flying backward.
The gunfire stopped. The conduits checked in with Rhone. He gave a nod, squinting through the smoke. They gathered around the bomb, and the conduits stood guard while Rhone investigated the device. Julia could just make out the faint shapes of fallen enemies on the floor, their legs the only part visible before their bodies disappeared into the fog.
“Fuck,” Rhone muttered, despair in his voice. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Ula, Roman, and Triton looked over their shoulder at him. Rhone held up a scrap of paper that had been taped to the side of the device. Written in thick black marker were the words, “Gotcha!”
“It was a trick?” Ula gasped.
Rhone’s lips grew thin as the paper shook in his fists.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Agents, Agreements and Aggravations: In Her Paranormal Majesty’s Secret Service™ Book Three Page 22
