Paranormal Chaos

by Joshua Roots

  “Hello, Robin.”

  “Good morning, Warlock Shifter,” she replied with a grin. “Steve.”

  Steve winked. “Hey, yourself.”

  Robin reddened slightly, then turned to me. “The Council is waiting.”

  Dammit.

  “Okay.”

  She motioned for us to follow.

  The halls were empty at such an early hour, amplifying the hollowness in my own chest. I couldn’t believe it, but I’d actually grown fond of these sterile walls. Sure, HQ was a hotbed of mindless bureaucracy and agonizingly boring meetings, but this was the hinge pin upon which the Skilled world rotated. This was where policy was created, change initiated and our future determined.

  I hated the thought of not being a part of that machine anymore.

  Robin led us down the long corridor. We walked in silence, passing the offices of people I’d come to love and respect like Wizard Pell, Councilman Monroe and even my former friend-turned-nemesis-turned-friend-again, Jethrow Wright.

  Eventually Robin halted us in front of the massive double doors for our official Council chambers. Standing before them, it dawned on me that I’d never actually sat in session before. All my dealings with the higher-ups had either been in smaller conference rooms or individual offices. How ironic that my first time in the chambers was likely my last.

  I might have laughed if my palms weren’t leaking sweat.

  “Good luck in there,” Robin whispered, then pushed open the doors.

  Steve and I entered, then froze. The interior was an enormous chasm of chairs and desks able to seat the packed house of over a hundred elected Skilled officials. A large balcony for spectators, of which there were none that day, overlooked the room. Ancient tapestries hung from the walls which made the room feel like it was hundreds of years old instead of a few decades. Thirteen seats, each for an Elder, were arranged along a semicircle dais at the front. Several were still unoccupied. Dad smiled from his spot.

  “Thank you two for joining us today,” Devon said to us from his location in the middle of the Elders. Because of the brilliant architectural design, the guy didn’t need a sound system or magic to be heard. His voice simply echoed off the walls and curved ceiling. “If you’d be so kind as to take your seats,” he added.

  A page hurried over, waving us toward a nearby desk of ornate inlaid wood. The chairs were plush leather while the water glasses fine crystal instead of the cheap crap I was used to. Apparently they’d rolled out the red carpet.

  And for good reason.

  In addition to what appeared to be the entire friggin’ Council was a bizarre mix of paranormal species. The ethereal Fae, who were more mist than corporeal form, the sturdy and muscular Dwarves, the tiny yet deadly Gnomes, the ravishing Nymphs, the tall, thin Trolls, a handful I was fuzzy on, and even the reclusive Elves sat in their own little clumps. I was startled to see the Satyrs as well, considering they had issued their own secession notice recently.

  As I stared at the different factions, it slowly dawned on me that these weren’t just ordinary otherworld guests. These were the leaders, the movers and shakers, of the various clans. Regal beings decked out in their finest garb and surrounded by dozens of strap-hangers.

  Holy cow, this wasn’t a court-martial at all. This was an honest-to-goodness paranormal summit.

  I looked wide-eyed at Steve, who simply said, “Guess you were right.”

  Rounding out our massive Circus of Odd was Carla Jones, Normal ambassador to the Skilled, and an army general with a chest full of ribbons. Both women watched the room carefully, as if trying to read each attendant’s mind. But while Carla smiled at me when we made eye contact, the latter offered nothing but a bulletproof poker face.

  Missing from the chambers were a number of species, to include Werewolves, Pixies, Vampires and Centaurs. Not that I was surprised with any of those. The first three hadn’t bothered with formal human contact in centuries, and the Centaurs were likely busy with the enemy at their doorstep.

  Also missing, much to my disappointment, were the Bookworms. I’d hoped to see Quinn among the Skilled representatives and felt hollow inside when I realized she wasn’t there.

  Devon waited for me and Steve to get settled, then shifted his attention back to the crowd. “Now that we are all here, I believe we can begin. First, allow me to offer my deepest thanks for your attendance today. I know it was asking a lot for you all to enter our world, but with the situation at hand, I believe this is the safest location at the moment.”

  “Thank you for hosting us,” the Dwarf king replied, struggling to peer over the edge of the table. His voice, deep and musical, resonated through the bizarre acoustics of the cavernous room.

  The Elder took a breath. “Without beating around the bush, I think we can all agree that the Minotaur coup not only surprised us but poses a significant threat to every one of our species.”

  Murmurs of agreement.

  “To better understand what happened, I’ve invited two people to brief us who were at ground zero when the revolt happened. Warlock Marcus Shifter, who was our Council representative, and... Steve the Minotaur. Gentlemen, if you’d be so kind.”

  I frowned, still wondering if this wasn’t a prank. I half expected Devon to shout “Surprise!” and toss me out into the streets.

  “Marcus?”

  “Yeah, sorry.” My voice sounded odd, bouncing off the walls. “As I’m sure most everyone here knows, a couple of months ago the Minotaurs issued a notice of secession from the Reformation Treaty—”

  I went on to give an accurate breakdown of events, going into detail about my conversations with Europa as well as Makha, and finishing with our escape from the Minotaur homeland with Steve’s kin.

  When I finished, Devon nodded.

  “Thank you. That certainly fills in a lot of holes. Steve, anything to add?”

  My buddy leaned back in his chair. “Nope.”

  Devon smiled, but even from far away I could tell it was forced. “Excellent. Now that we know what led up to this tragedy, we need to assess the current situation.” He tapped on a large monitor behind him. It sprang to life with a map of North America.

  “We don’t have accurate numbers at the moment, but based on reports, we know that Makha’s troops are spread across three continents. We’ve also confirmed that a large portion is in Maine. Apparently Makha was not satisfied with his conquest of the Minotaurs and has staged an assault on the nearby Centaur clan.”

  Whispers of alarm rippled through the crowd. Even I was shocked to hear the news. It was one thing for Steve to suspect Makha’s actions, but quite another to see it come to fruition. Especially considering how efficiently and brutally he’d defeated Europa’s forces.

  Gazing at the map, I felt sick. This wasn’t just a coup. It was a damn war.

  “The remainder of Makha’s army,” Devon continued, “appears to be split into smaller task forces that are headed toward various clan locations. We know for a fact that he has also marched on the Fae, Satyrs and Bookworms, but we suspect he will target more in the coming days.”

  My stomach tightened.

  Quinn.

  My head buzzed as Devon’s voice became white noise. I needed to call her, to confirm she was all right. I reached into my pocket for the spare cell phone I normally kept in my nightstand.

  As my fingers touched the hard rubber case, I paused. I wanted to call her, but what I needed to do was focus on the crisis at hand. I was a member of the Council and part of this emergency meeting. I had to be here, focused on the now. There was nothing I could do to help Quinn at the moment, so I’d have to satisfy my own worry about her once the meeting was over. Slowly I placed my hands back on the desk and forced myself to listen.

  “—have suffered major losses,” Devon said. “The speed with which the ene
my attacked caught the various paranormals off guard and unprepared.”

  “But their homelands are protected by defensive barriers,” the Troll king replied. “How could anyone penetrate so many so quickly?”

  “We don’t know,” Devon admitted. “But the Minotaurs were able to defeat all of them.”

  Rumblings grew from the ranks.

  “The question now becomes, what to do about these attacks?”

  The Dwarf thumped a hand on the table. “I say we strike quickly and decisively.”

  “A direct assault is out of the question,” the Satyr leader countered. She was wizened and weathered, with lines on her face so deep you could lose a pencil in them. “Like many of us here, my clan is scattered around the globe and it will take time to gather enough troops to make a difference. Time that we don’t seem to have.”

  The ethereal queen of the Fae shimmered a misty blue in the artificial light of the chambers. “Agreed. My forces are better consolidated than most and we barely made a dent in their numbers.”

  The Dwarf puffed through his thick beard. “I’ve already placed a large portion of my army on alert. They’re prepared to march on the Centaur camp at a moment’s notice. I can easily have another task force here in less than a day. That should more than make up for the feeble warriors the Fae bring to the table.”

  “Don’t confuse our inclination toward pacifism for ineptitude!” the misty queen snapped. “We seek harmony with nature, but we know how to defend ourselves.”

  “Apparently not.”

  Her ethereal skin changed from blue to a shade of red I’d only ever seen on barns.

  Devon held up a hand before she could reach across the table to choke the king. “Everyone, please. This kind of infighting is exactly why we’re at a crossroads in the first place. Without a true sense of unity, we’re unprepared for such a threat.”

  The Dwarf crossed his arms, huffing with annoyance while the Fae slowly changed back to her natural blue.

  The Elf queen, a tall, elegant woman with silver hair, put her elbows on the table. She steepled her long, thin fingers. “Perhaps we should be asking the person most directly responsible for these events what he thinks.”

  Everyone turned to me.

  “Seriously?”

  The Elf gave me a condescending smile. “I meant the Minotaur.”

  Steve raised his eyebrows. “How’s that?”

  “You are the only one here with knowledge of your customs and the new Alpha. Perhaps you can shed light on the situation.”

  Steve rocked forward, the feet of his chair booming as they hit the marble floor. “Makha believes in both the former glory of our species and the possibility of forming a new alliance with the Skilled. Anyone who isn’t us or them is nothing more than a nuisance.”

  “Then why is he wasting time attacking us?” the Satyr asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he sees you as a threat. Or maybe you’re an easy target.”

  “There must be a peaceful option,” the Elf said. “Violence cannot rule the day.”

  Steve chuckled. “Lady, you don’t get it. Violence is the only option for your kind. There is no negotiating, no holding hands, no treaty. You and your people are second-class citizens to be ruled by him and the Skilled.”

  The gorgeous Elf darkened. “We would never accept such a thing.”

  “And that, hot stuff, is exactly why he is kicking everyone’s ass at the moment. Strip away any threat and beat you all into submission so you’ll be willing to submit to his rule when the dust settles.”

  The Satyr shook her head. “He can’t seriously think the Skilled would accept such a situation. That they would sign that kind of treaty.”

  “He can and he does,” Steve countered, “because that’s how things used to be.”

  The paranormals all grumbled.

  “Is this true?” the Satyr asked Devon.

  Steve answered before the Elder had a chance to open his mouth.

  “Minotaurs once ruled with the Skilled. We were the guards and peacekeepers for folks like Marcus. We did their bidding, helping to keep the lesser species, to include Normal humans, in line. Makha admitted to us that he believes such a state can exist once more, so unless you’re able to build an army large enough to defeat him, you better get used to your new Minotaur overlords.”

  The Dwarf pounded the table once again. “I’m sure I speak for most of my fellow monarchs when I say that we will do everything in our power to stop that from ever happening.”

  Hundreds of heads nodded in agreement.

  “I am afraid not all of us,” the Elf queen replied.

  Devon turned to her. “What do you mean, Lady Galesh?”

  “There are limits to what the Elves will allow themselves to be pulled in to. We agreed to attend this conference because we were formally invited. Tradition dictates that we at least acknowledge the offer and the threat at hand. While we agree that the Minotaur army must be stopped, we simply cannot participate in a direct conflict with them.”

  “Even though your people are threatened as well?” the Dwarf asked.

  Lady Galesh gave him a cool gaze. “What threat do we pose? We have long since removed ourselves from the world around us, choosing to stay in our enclaves. We have been impartial to many engagements between humans and paranormals, so unless the Minotaurs either agree to a negotiation or march on our camps directly, we will remain neutral in this fight.”

  “We felt the same until the enemy appeared on our doorstep,” the Satyr leader replied.

  The Elf grinned. “The Elves learned long ago how to avoid unwanted detection. I highly doubt the Minotaurs will bother searching for us.”

  “Dammit, woman,” the Dwarf shouted. “Not only are we morally obligated to protect one another, but the Reformation Treaty also demands it.”

  “We Elves do not share the same notion of morality as you all. And more to the point, we have suffered no ill before or after the existence of the treaty, so we will likely weather this storm without undue duress.”

  The king started to respond, but Ambassador Jones stepped in.

  “Perhaps it would help if we heard an outside perspective.”

  “Indeed,” Devon said, relief obvious on his face. He waved a hand toward the lady in uniform. “May I introduce General Patricia Wells, Chief of Staff for the US Army. General, if you would be so kind.” He stepped out of the way as the woman stood and moved to the screen.

  “Long story short, we are monitoring the situation as best we can. Our satellites can’t pick up any movement by the Minotaurs for some reason—”

  “Magic,” I coughed into my hand.

  “—but we have been able to track damage after the fact. From the looks of it, the Minotaurs are focusing on the Centaurs at the moment, but like Elder Devon said, they’ve engaged several other species as well.”

  Animated explosions appeared in the three locations. I felt sick at the sight of the one in Tennessee.

  “Of these attacks, only the Centaurs make sense. As we have heard, they pose the greatest threat to Makha, hence his willingness to dedicate such a large portion of his army to them. In the wake of the other attacks, however, we are faced with the question of what his next target will be.”

  The general continued her presentation, but she faded into the background as I studied the map. Why would Makha waste resources going after the Fae, Satyrs and Bookworms? I had a hard time buying Steve’s comment that it was because they were in the way. All three camps were spread out, which forced Makha to divide his troops. Not to mention none of them were overly loyal to the Reformation Treaty. Of the three, only the Bookworms had expressed support. Hell, the Satyrs had actually planned to break from it and the Fae simply couldn’t care less. Yet Makha had intentionally targeted each of them. What
did he gain by forcing the rest of the paranormal world to unify?

  Holy crap.

  “It’s camouflage.”

  The general paused. “Come again.”

  All eyes focused on me once more.

  “Makha is screwing with us. Keeping us off balance.”

  The general frowned. “I don’t see how—”

  “Look at the map,” I said, talking over her. “Excluding the Centaurs, the rest of the clans he’s attacked are neither in the way nor much of a threat. What kind of idiot dedicates resources like that unless he has a purpose?”

  “Your friend already claimed that the purpose was to weaken paranormal resistance.”

  “What if there’s more to it?” I asked. “What if his goal isn’t to keep everyone apart, but to keep us guessing? He has to know that attacking so many clans at once will motivate others to come together against him. This meeting is proof of that. Everyone, even Makha, understands that the only way any of us stands a chance against thousands of Minotaurs is to unify our forces and hit them hard. But mobilizing the paranormal world will take time, time we don’t have, so the number of available troops at the moment is limited. And even if we can gather a sizable unit, the question becomes where to deploy them? Either we focus on one area, which leaves the others exposed, or we divide our forces to engage them all, which will spread us way too thin. Both set us up for defeat.”

  The room was silent as my words sank in.

  “Valid points,” Devon responded. “We must be careful how we proceed. Initially, we’d want to stall Makha’s advance while we gather more troops.”

  “There’s another option,” I said. “One that Makha would never bet on and would give us immediate numbers.”

  The Elder raised his bushy eyebrows. “And that is?”