by Ann Wilson
15. Demon Drops
"Good morning, my dear." Cortin greeted her subject cheerily as soonas she entered the third-stage room. Yes, Mike had had it cleaned;except for the misery and fatigue in her subject's attitude, there wasno evidence of what he'd been through the night before. "Are you readyfor today's session?"
The man licked his lips, then said, "That captain who was here beforecalled you Azrael. What's that mean--who are you? What're you gonnado to me?"
"Your education has been sadly neglected if you do not know the Angelof Death," Cortin said easily. "I will carry out the sentence youearned when you joined the Brotherhood, eventually. Before that,however, we will share some entertainment, and you will tell meeverything you know about the Brothers of Freedom."
"Like hell I will!" But the man's voice held no conviction, and Cortinsmiled.
"Oh, not without some resistance, of course." She turned to thecabinets, began laying out instruments and drugs where the subjectcould see them, taking her time to give him plenty of opportunity tostudy each one. "I have restricted myself to field-level drugs andinstruments until now; I really should be experimenting with the moreadvanced techniques, now that I have easy access to them. Some ofthese do look interesting." She picked up several of the instrumentsagain, one at a time, looking thoughtfully from instrument to prisonerand back, but there was no unusual reaction from him.
"The simple infliction of pain holds no particular terrors for you, Isee," she commented. "Good, then you can demonstrate some of the drugsfor me." That got a reaction, as she'd expected from the previousnight; he tried, with little success, to hold back a gasp. "Notalgetin, I am quite familiar with that, and you have already given mean excellent demonstration of eroticine." She studied labels onvarious little jars, again taking her time, stretching his anticipationand fear. "We can also eliminate these, I think, as they are primarilyfor medical purposes; my medic can handle them, if necessary. Thatstill leaves quite a selection, however. Hmm, this looks interesting."She filled a syringe, turned to him. "Hallucinogens are not really toouseful as interrogation drugs, because of both their primary functionand their unpredictability. But I cannot resist one called 'demondrops' and described as causing both hallucinations and rapid moodchanges--so you get to try it."
"Keep that hell-stuff away from me!"
"There is no point in fighting, you know," Cortin said as sheapproached him. A light coming on caught her attention; she raised ahand in greeting to whoever had entered the observation room, surprisedwhen she saw the clock at how long she'd been working. She dismissedthat, though, and made the injection in spite of her subject'sineffectual struggles. As she'd told him, there was absolutely nopoint in fighting when you were shackled by wrists and ankles, but shehad no real objection if one of her subjects wanted to; it merelyemphasized their relative positions. "There--now we will see whathappens."
"You go straight to Hell, Bitch!"
"Your colleagues tried to send me there once," Cortin reminded him witha smile. "Now I return the favor, more successfully. Should that bemy destination, I have excellent reasons to believe you will be therewaiting for me." There was nothing more she could do until the drugtook effect, which according to the label should be quickly, but even abrief time should be enough to see who the observer was.
Bradford greeted her as she entered the dimly-lit room with its largewindow of one-way glass. "Lieutenant Powell didn't have very muchexcept what he already told you--that was one reason you got him topractice on, after all--so I thought I'd come down and watch for a bit.What'd you give him?"
"Demon drops." Cortin shrugged. "I know hallucinogens aren'trecommended--but I learned a long time ago to play my hunches, and Ithink this'll break him."
"I was curious, not objecting," Bradford said mildly. "I've never hadany luck with it, but others have; I don't argue with what works."
"I hope this does," Cortin said, watching her subject closely. "Ifit's what the prewars called a bad trip, and he remembers, it should."
"It doesn't look like it's going to be a good one," Bradford said,chuckling.
"I think you're right," Cortin agreed. Her subject was showing signsof fear, small as yet but promising. "And it looks like I ought to getback to him. If you have any suggestions, I'll be glad to hear them."
"I don't expect to, but if I do, I'll let you know."
Cortin returned to her subject, pleased to see his fear become moreopen when she entered the room. She wondered what he was seeing; hehadn't been visibly afraid of her only minutes ago, so it had to besomething more than a woman in gray coveralls. As she approached him,he started to sweat, trembling, his eyes bulging as he fought to escapewhatever he saw. "No--go away, please--leave me alone--don't touch me!"
She must be something impressive, Cortin thought. A demon such as theone the drug was named for, perhaps, to get such a strong reaction."Why not?" she asked. "What do you think I am?"
"Lord Azrael," the man sobbed. "Go away--send the Inquisitor back!I'll tell her everything--just leave me alone!"
So he'd taken her code name and clothed her in that persona, Cortinthought. Fitting, that he should think he was dying at the hands ofthe real Angel of Death. "Tell me, mortal. Thy life is forfeit, butif thou shouldst speak quickly and truthfully, I will make thy passingeasy. She will not be so merciful."
"You're burning me . . . not so close . . ."
True enough, his skin was reddening as if from sunburn. Cortin hadread that something believed strongly enough could affect the body, butthis was the first time she'd seen it. She wanted to go closer, testthe phenomenon further, but getting information was more important thanindulging her curiosity; she stepped back instead. "Speak to me,mortal. Quickly, before the Inquisitor returns and I must leave theeto the slow, terrible death she intends for thee." Cortin had used the"good cop/bad cop" tactic before, many times--it was, for all its age,astonishingly reliable--though this was the first time she'd playedboth parts for one prisoner.
The man sagged in his chains. "Better you than her, I guess . . . whatdo you want to know?"
His fear was still there; Cortin read the signs easily. But she couldalso see defeat, almost resignation. He believed the Angel of Death,where he'd had some hope, however small, under the Inquisitor. "Tellme first of the attack planned on the holy Sisters of Succor."
He confirmed what Powell had told her, adding that the time was set forthe High Mass celebrating the Order's founding, and the force involvedwould be about fifty men. Yes, it was to be a massacre like the one atthe convalescent hospital the previous year, but he didn't know whysuch attacks were carried out or what the Brotherhood's purpose was; hehad joined because farm life was boring and he wanted adventure. He'dtried for Enforcement, but been refused because they thought himunstable. He was quite bitter about being called unstable by a bunchof oversexed killers in uniform, and liked taking part in raids just toget back at them for the insult.
No, he didn't know how many Lawrence Shannons there were; no one did,except the Raidmaster himself and maybe the Brotherhood's High Council.Ten or fifteen, he thought, but that was only a guess. He wasn't surewhether or not the real Shannon would lead the convent raid, but hedidn't think so; he'd heard rumors of a major raid around Christmas inone of the other Systems, and the Raidmaster was supposed to be workingon that one. No, he didn't know any more about it; it had been only arumor. The lesser Raidmaster on the convent job might know, yes,though he didn't think it likely. No, he didn't know who'd beenRaidmaster on the hospital job; he thought probably the real one,though. That was all he knew, honestly; now he would be grateful ifLord Azrael would let him see a priest before killing him.
Cortin swore silently. She wanted to send his soul to Hell, where shewas sure it belonged--but it looked like his hallucination had thrownthe fear of God into him, and he was about to make a deathbedrepentance. At least she wouldn't have to officiate this time, shetold herself; she couldn't be Azrael a
nd Reverend Mother Cortin at thesame time. "Thou hast that right," she conceded, beckoning Bradford tojoin them. Blast it, from now on she'd simply have to make it a pointto have Mike or Dave nearby, in case it happened again!
When Bradford entered, Cortin left the room. She didn't care to evenwitness a Brother's repentance and forgiveness, though she admittedunhappily to herself that she would carry them out again if she had to;she simply wouldn't like doing it, any more than she had the first time.
She took advantage of the break to use the red phone and pass along theadditional information she'd gotten--not to His Majesty directly thistime; the one who answered didn't sound at all familiar, and promisedto pass it along as soon as His Majesty was free. Then she waited,with growing impatience, for Bradford to finish with her subject.
What, in God's Most Holy Name, was going on in there? Surely itcouldn't take this long to confess even a Brother's obviously-lengthylist of sins, then receive absolution and Extreme Unction!
When Bradford finally emerged, he was smiling. "He's all yours, Joan.Nice job you did, getting the information and saving a soul--thatdoesn't happen often. Of course, not many Inquisitors have the help ofa blazing Angel of Death, either."
"Mike told him my code name; the demon drops and his own imaginationdid the rest." Cortin's mouth quirked. "I would've preferred a moreconventional interrogation, but I have to admit he had good reason tobe afraid of drugs. And I'll keep 'Azrael's' promise; he'll die asquickly and easily as I can manage, even though by rights he ought tosuffer as much as his victims did."
"I think you can safely trust God to take care of that," Bradford saiddrily. "I can't tell you what he confessed, of course, but I can tellyou I'm positive he'll be spending a long time in Purgatory."
Cortin grinned. "I'm sure he deserves every year of it." All that wasleft was killing him, so she got out of her coveralls, put her tunicback on, settled her gunbelt into place, and re-entered the third-stageroom. Bradford had freed the prisoner; he was kneeling facing awayfrom her, toward the room's crucifix, his attitude making it obvious hewas praying. Cortin frowned, then nodded to herself, silently drawingher pistol. There were far worse ways to die than quickly, whilespeaking to God, and while he deserved one of those, she had promisedotherwise. She took careful aim and shot him in the back of the head.
That, she thought immediately, had been far kinder to him than it hadto her! She'd forgotten just how loud a heavy-caliber handgun could bein a confined area, and her ears were ringing painfully. It also madequite a mess at this close a range; blood and brains splattered most ofthe wall he'd been facing, including the crucifix. The clean-up crewcould handle the wall and body, but she felt like taking care of thecrucifix herself; careful to avoid getting the mess on her uniform, shetook it into the bathroom to clean it.
As she did, she found herself thinking about the man the crucifixrepresented. Jeshua had become incarnate and sacrificed Himself toprotect humanity from the results of sin, though protection from sinitself would have to wait for the promised Protector. In the meantime,Jeshua's sacrifice was on behalf of anyone willing to take advantage ofit--and Ivan had told her often enough it was as much an Inquisitor'sjob to correct as to punish. Maybe, she thought, she was starting toget that through her thick head, because despite her personal distastefor the idea of a Brother's repenting, there was a sense ofaccomplishment at this one's. It also helped, of course, that Brad hadcomplimented her on being able to manage both information andrepentance!
She grinned at herself as she dried the crucifix and put it on the deskin the suite's office. If Shannon was Shayan, which since her visionlooked more likely than not, turning Brothers from him to God would bean even better revenge on him than the traditional version would be onthem . . . even though she still intended to take that kind on the oneswho'd helped rape and maim her.
* * * * *
There was a message on her ground-floor office desk: His Majesty wantedto see her at her earliest convenience between interrogations. Itdidn't specify dress uniform, and this close to the Palace she didn'tneed bodyguards, so less than fifteen minutes later she found herselfsitting--sitting!--beside His Majesty's desk, sipping a cup of the bestginger tea she could remember tasting and still shocked by the warmthof His Majesty's welcome. It was awesome enough meeting him, thoughreally it was no odder than paying a routine courtesy call on one's newcommanding officer; it just felt that way, having the High King himselfas your direct superior. His Majesty was clearly familiar with such areaction, because he was carrying the burden of the conversation untilshe had a chance to recover. When she began to settle down, he smiled."Reports of your ability weren't exaggerated, Colonel. I'm quitepleased with the results you've gotten so far."
"Thank you, Your Majesty. I'll keep doing my best."
"I'm certain you will. Is Harmony Lodge to your liking and adequatelyequipped?"
"More than adequately, Sire. I'm still overwhelmed by all of it."
"You are to let me know immediately if there's anything you need orwant. We can't take major action against the Brotherhood without theinformation you provide, which makes you the most important singleperson in this operation."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Cortin took a sip of her tea, savoring the gingertang. It was hard to believe she was all that important--she certainlydidn't feel it--but her truthsense said His Majesty did believe it, soshe had to. "If I may make a suggestion?"
"As one of my Household, that's both your privilege and your duty; goahead."
"Then I'd say the attack on the convent would be a good time toactivate the Strike Force. And with Your Majesty's permission, my menand I would like to participate in the convent's defense."
"That's three things," King Mark said. "Activating the strike force atthe next terror attack is something I had already intended; it will bedone. Your men may participate in the convent's defense if they wishand Colonel Bradford permits." He paused. "I am afraid, though, thatI must forbid your participation in action against anyone except thoseyou have a personal interest in. You're far too valuable to risk thatway, and if I weren't afraid of losing you, I'd forbid youparticipating in action against even personal enemies. It would bebest for the kingdom if you could resist doing so, but--" he paused,giving her a rueful smile, "while I pray for miracles for my people,I've learned not to expect them."
Cortin wanted to object, but reminded herself that she'd known aboutthe restriction when she'd taken the job. "As Your Majestycommands--but it was worth a try."
The King chuckled. "And I can't fault you for making the effort; youwouldn't have joined the Strike Force if you hadn't wanted to seeaction. I'm afraid you'll see more than I want you to, at that. Now,if I may change the subject, the Royal Press Office has received anumber of requests for interviews with you. Whether you give them ornot is your choice."
"In that case, Sire, I'd rather not, at least until I finish settlingin." She'd rather not do it even then; she'd given more than enoughinterviews at the Academy and after graduation. One reason she'd doneso much field work was to get away from reporters. But she neededpublicity--favorable publicity--to get support for her family changes,so she'd have to at least pretend to overcome that dislike.
"They'll have to content themselves with the official biography for thepresent, then," the King said. "The Press Office will need a currentphoto, though; you can go by sometime this week and provide it. You'llbe safe from reporters as long as you're in the Palace compound orHarmony Lodge, but I can't guarantee the same outside; that will be upto your team."
"I don't really see any need to leave, except on missions," Cortinsaid. "Harmony Lodge alone has everything I need."
"As you wish," the King said. "I certainly won't insist on you beingexposed to any unnecessary danger. But there will be an officialreception tomorrow in your honor; you should come, unless you're in themiddle of an interrogation."
Cortin was tempted to arrange it so she was,
but as far as she wasconcerned, His Majesty saying she should come made it an order. "I'lldo my best to be there, Sire. Full dress uniform?"
"Or formal civilan wear. Though that would mean being unarmed, so Idon't expect it." The King raised an eyebrow. "You do realize you arethe only person other than members of my personal guard who is allowedin the Royal Presence with a firearm?"
"What?" Cortin stared at him for an instant, then glanced at thepistol on her hip. "No, Sire--I hadn't even thought about it."
The King smiled, then stood. "We have no doubt of Your Excellency'sloyalty, and We wish you a long and healthy life as Our Inquisitor."
The audience was over, obviously; Cortin rose and bowed, then beganbacking out of the office.
"Those who carry firearms in Our presence," the King said drily, "alsohave leave to turn their backs on Us."
Cortin bowed again, then turned. As she left, the King allowed himselfa brief frown. He was certain of his Inquisitor's loyalty, or shewouldn't have the position--but he couldn't deny that she made himuncomfortable. Male Inquisitors were disturbing enough to be around; awoman who enjoyed the deliberate infliction of pain seemed worse,somehow. And one with Colonel Cortin's incredible talent at it wasdecidedly unnerving.
On the other hand, both Edward and Ursula were thoroughly taken withher, which was unusual for both of them, so Her Excellency must havequalities he couldn't see, even allowing for her scheme to let themhave heirs. He touched the cartridge at his neck, frowning again.Unusual qualities, for these to be so popular with the troops that manyinsisted on having one before going out in the field and swore by theirefficacy. Maybe he ought to have her bless a couple of cases of them,make them standard issue . . .
Back to the subject, he thought, leaning back. The idea of polygamyhad seemed obscene when Edward first mentioned it, but the longer hethought about it, the more reasonable it seemed to become. As a matterof morality, her argument that monogamy at this point was tantamount toracial suicide had a certain validity, and suicide was a sin. And herargument that marriage laws could be changed was also valid; the ModernSaints had been branded heretics not because of their polygamy butbecause they had claimed Shayan to be Jeshua's brother. And thetheologians were still arguing about that . . .
Then there was his responsibility, as Sovereign, for his subjects'welfare, which tied in with his personal desire to leave hisdescendants a prosperous, expanding group of Systems . . . which hewouldn't be able to do without some fairly drastic action. If hedidn't, in a few generations there would be no Kingdom Systems--a facthe'd known for some time, but had avoided thinking about because thereseemed to be no solution.
Now, though, he'd been handed a chance, if he could arrange toimplement it. Keep Cortin the focus of whatever happened as a result,of course; even the best Inquisitor was more expendable than royalty.From Edward's report on the airborne conference, Bishop-ColonelBradford ought to be willing to help get Church approval forEnforcement to formalize the informal group marriages it was rumoredthey had in some of the more remote areas.
Remote areas? The High King smiled as an idea took form. He'd have todiscuss it with his lesser monarchs, because of their agreement thatall Royal Inquisitors hold the same rank--but it promised a place forCortin to offer anyone who wanted a group marriage but didn't want thenotoriety that would inevitbly accompany the first ones. It wouldalso--a not inconsiderable benefit--silence My Lord of New Colorado'scomplaints about having to administer territories that cost his Dukedommore than the revenues they generated. Those complaints werejustified, the King admitted--but he was incredibly tired of hearingthem!
That would have to wait, though. The King switched on his intercom,spoke to his secretary. "Peter, get hold of Bishop-Colonel Bradford.I want to see him as soon as he can get here."
* * * * *
Cortin disliked the reception, leaving as soon as she thought it wouldbe socially acceptable, intending to indulge herself with a newsubject. Once she got back to the Lodge, though, she decided she wastoo tired to do a proper job of starting an interrogation, and Bradysaid most of the men had gone to the New Eden joyhouse. So she mightas well make an early night of it; after a hot soaking bath, she wentto bed and quickly fell asleep.
Fifteen years disappeared; it was the night after Graduation, and Mikewas holding her close after their first lovemaking, smiling down ather. "Marry me, Joanie?"
"Of course, beloved." Cortin returned his smile, giving him alingering kiss.
They were married soon after, and she found that married life agreedwith her; she remained in the Service, but instead of going into thefield as she'd planned, she took postgraduate work and became anInquisitor. That let her spend time with her husband, when he wasn'tout on a mission, and with the three children they had. The youngestwas almost a year old when Mike came home with a pleased expressionthat told her he'd contracted the Satyr Plague.
They lay together in the dark warmth, savoring each other, not hurryingtheir caresses in spite of their desire. He wanted her to lie still,let him pleasure her with his new capacity--
Her bedroom door opened, bringing her awake with her gun in her hand."Who's there?"
"Mike--I hadn't expected you to be asleep this early. I hope I didn'tinterrupt a good dream."
Cortin put the gun down. "Only the best I've had in years. Come onin, if you want; is there something wrong?"
"No, just thought you might like some normal company after that Palaceto-do." He entered the room, the hallway light showing, to herpleasure, that he was already undressed. "What was the dream?"
"Graduation night, then the first time we got together after youmanaged to catch the satyr bug." She was not going to tell him aboutthe impossible marriage and children . . . Letting amused irritationshow in her voice, she went on, "Or would have, until you interruptedyourself. Interested in starting over?"
"Any time," Odeon said with a chuckle. "Especially since it seems thisis one I owe myself!"
