by Joshua Roots
“Deploy the human military.”
The general thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“Perhaps eventually, but we can’t do so at the moment.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
“Because humans aren’t directly threatened.”
Anger bubbled in my chest. “They will be.”
“Seeking to form a new relationship with us isn’t the same as threatening humanity.”
“Then you weren’t listening. Makha only cares about the Skilled. The rest of humanity is in the same bucket as the paranormals. If he makes it to our world, he’ll steamroll anyone who’s not part of the Council.”
The general darkened. Apparently she wasn’t used to being questioned.
“Paranormals are under siege,” she said, her voice tight. “While I would like to offer support, until we can confirm that our world is in danger, we cannot commit military forces.”
I clenched my fists under the table. “The Reformation Treaty was designed to deal with exactly this type of situation, General.”
She fixed me with a cold gaze. “No, it wasn’t.”
I opened my mouth, but Devon stepped into the fight. “Marcus, I’m sorry, but General Wells is correct. The treaty is, sad to say, ambiguous when it comes to armed conflict. While it does protect humans and paranormals from one another, it was left intentionally vague in relation to open warfare among nonhumans. At the time, it was the only way to get the measure approved by the Normals.”
I seethed but worked to maintain my composure. “You expect the paranormal world to sort this out alone?”
Devon scoffed. “Of course not. The Skilled will absolutely be involved, but we can’t ask the Normals to risk lives for what is, essentially, an internal conflict.”
“Guess all that talk about our worlds getting smaller, becoming one, was nothing more than BS.”
“Marcus, enough,” Dad chided.
“No, Dad,” I said firmly, “not this time. We’re talking about the stability of the paranormal world. For twenty years, we’ve blustered and begged to be considered peers with both the Normals and our mystical counterparts. We’ve waxed poetically and offered platitudes. But when push comes to shove, when we face a real crisis that demands our attention, we turn our backs on them. That goes against everything we stand for, and the paranormal world deserves better. We added them into our treaty with the Normals as an afterthought. It’s high time we made them a priority. You can sit by all you want and wait for this mess to go away, General,” I added, shifting to stare directly at her, “but sooner or later you’ll have a lot of highly trained warriors on your doorstep. What will you do then?”
“Bomb them back to the Bronze Age. In fact, if a single one of Makha’s troops crosses into the human world with a weapon drawn, I will personally give the order to carpet-bomb their entire homeland.”
A collective gasp spread throughout the audience. I, too, froze at her words.
I was the first to recover. “You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious,” she replied. “You think the administration isn’t concerned? Of course it is, but we’ll not act unless threatened. Which brings up an interesting point: you Skilled claim to be the wall between the creatures of the night and the rest of the human world.” She waved at the screen. “Well, here you go. If we truly are at risk, I suggest you follow through with your mantra and protect us. Because if you can’t, this stops being your concern and becomes ours. And I can guarantee you that the people in charge won’t piddle around with ‘necessary force.’ They’re going to hit Makha where it counts and end it.”
I reeled in shock. “What about the civilian population? Innocent Minotaurs like the ones Steve and I picked up. Not to mention the fact that they’re in Canada, so you’re inviting an international incident.”
“We’re already working on the latter issue. The former is something we have to consider as a possibility. We’ll try to give fair warning to the residents, but we won’t hesitate to do what we deem necessary.
“The military doesn’t take any casualty lightly, Warlock, especially noncombatants. But we also have to be prepared to act swiftly in order to save lives in the long run. This enemy is already proving to be harder to find and deal with than conventional units. That means we have to consider nonconventional methods if we’re going to face them. I don’t like this option, but I can tell you that it is absolutely on the table. The only way to guarantee that it doesn’t happen is to contain this conflict before we’re forced to make that decision.”
The room fell silent. Everyone, even the Elders, seemed completely stunned.
Devon cleared his throat. “Thank you, General.”
She gave him a curt nod and sat back down next to Carla.
“As you can see,” the Elder continued, reengaging the crowd, “we desperately need to develop a plan to address this threat. Not only to protect ourselves, but those who might come to harm by our failings.” He gave the general a passing glance. “Therefore, I’m formally requesting that each species here dedicate troops to this cause.”
“You have ours,” the Dwarf king announced. He glared at his fellow leaders. The Satyr chewed on her lip, then sighed.
“We wanted to break from the treaty to avoid a conflict. Now it has been thrust upon us. As such, I will provide what I can, but those troops are few in number.”
“The Trolls are in,” their king announced in a loud, strong voice. A few of the unknown species also offered their support.
Devon turned to the Fae.
“They’ve already taken land and lives of mine. We’ll participate.”
“Lady Galesh?” Devon asked.
She sighed heavily. “I wish my answer was different, but it is not. I can offer nothing more than prayers to the goddess for your safety and success.”
The Dwarf and even the Satyr grumbled. The Fae gave the Elf a long, sad look.
Devon scanned the room one last time. “Well, then, if there are no other matters, I believe this meeting is adjourned. Lady Galesh, safe travels. Everyone else, please join me in my chambers so we can develop a battle plan.”
The room filled with noise as leaders rose and began talking. I headed directly for the exit.
“Marcus, a moment,” Devon called, but I ignored him.
“Marcus!”
Steve caught up with me halfway down the hall. “Dude, where you going in such a hurry?”
“Tennessee.”
He grabbed my arm. I tried to jerk it free, but he didn’t budge. “You can’t just storm down there like a vengeful madman.”
“Like hell I can’t. Quinn’s in the middle of all this.”
“And she can handle herself,” he added quietly. “Trust me, she’s no damsel in distress. If anything, I feel sorry for any of Makha’s troops who cross her. But we owe it to the rest of the paranormal world to figure out what to do next. Maybe then we can swing down to Tennessee and kick some ass.”
My gut knew he was right, but my heart rebelled. Quinn had been there for me countless times. Didn’t I owe her the same?
“There you are,” Dad said, jogging into the hall. “I thought you might be doing something stupid before getting all the facts.”
I looked at Steve, who gave me a small grin.
“Apparently not yet.”
“Good,” Dad replied. “Because Devon has a mission for you and Steve. Assuming you’re willing,” he added to my friend.
“Absolutely.”
“A mission?” I asked. “So I’m not getting fired?”
Dad smirked. “I hate to break it to you, son, but you’ve got some heavy firepower in your court.”
Relief flooded me. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Councilman Monroe. The Council held a
private session before the paranormals arrived specifically to vote on what to do with you. He lobbied hard to not only keep you, but is pushing for your promotion to a full member. Very few people were willing to counter someone so influential.”
I blinked. I’d done Monroe a solid a while back and he’d sworn to watch out for me. Apparently he was making good. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the thought of one man being able to influence so many powerful people. Then again, if I was going to join the Council in earnest, I might need to get over that and start learning how to handle it. Or even become that guy.
But those were worries for another day.
“So, this mission.”
“I’ll fill Steve in. You are needed at home.”
I frowned.
His lips curled upward slightly. “Healer Jenkins called just before the meeting. He has two new patients who’re asking for you.”
* * *
“Babe, I’m fine.”
Quinn’s emerald eyes flashed with annoyance. Her normally tan face was pale and her dark hair completely disheveled.
I gripped her hand tighter, frowning deeply at the bandage around her calf. “Puncture wounds are nasty. They can get infected or reopen, or—”
“Jenkins, would you please shut him up?”
The old hippie patted my back. “She’s right as rain, Marcus. The crossbow bolt missed the bone and most of the meat. I healed the injury and the antibacterial balm will do the rest. She can put full weight on her leg and has complete range of motion. Hell, she won’t even have a scar.”
I squinted at the Healer.
“She does, however, need lots and lots of attention,” he added with a wink.
I stood back up. “I’ll gladly help with her physical therapy.”
He and Quinn laughed.
“Hey, someone else needs some attention,” Pip said from the next gurney. A small creature with leathery green skin, small black eyes, a hooked nose and large ears, Pip was a member of the Bookworm clan. The species served as keepers of knowledge for pretty much everyone, dedicating their lives to recording events and transcribing ancient tomes in an effort to preserve history forever. Pip’s small, talon-like fingers were stained blue from his many years in such a role, most recently for an old contact of mine in the Underground.
The Bookworm gave us a melodramatic sigh.
The Healer rolled his eyes. “Relax. You were barely scratched.”
“But I was scratched.” He pointed to a tiny cut on his knee.
Jenkins placed a Hello Kitty Band-Aid over the wound. “Better?”
“Much.”
“What the hell happened?” I asked, looking between Pip and Quinn. The Bookworm lit up like a Christmas tree, nearly bouncing up and down on the thin mattress.
“Minotaurs. Lots of them. They came out of the woods like banshees. Struck before we knew what was happening. Luckily, my folks are faster than the average moron, so we were able to hightail it out of there. The village is a wreck and likely still packed with those huge, smelly beasts, but most of the clan was able to escape.”
“How did you two get back here so fast?”
Quinn nodded to Pip. “You’d be amazed what the South is like at Mach One.”
I turned to the imp. “You carried her?”
“Helped her along is more like it.”
Wow. I’d seen Pip move like lightning, but for him to be able to transport Quinn hundreds of miles so quickly was astonishing. And eye-opening. Apparently there was a lot I didn’t know about Bookworms.
“I’m grateful that you saved my girlfriend, but why were you at your clan’s main camp?”
“Our head librarian recalled everyone the moment the Minotaurs issued their notice of secession.”
“If I may interrupt,” Jenkins said with a grin. “The patients are all clear.”
Pip hopped off the table. “Thank goodness because I’m starving. Rumor has it there are some sandwiches in the kitchen of the south wing. Anyone else want one?”
We all shook our heads.
“Okay, back in a few.” He vanished in a flash of green.
The Healer stared at the doorway Pip had bolted through. “No matter how long I walk this earth, Bookworms will always be one of my favorite species.”
I chuckled. “Mine too.”
He glanced back at me. “And while I hate the circumstances, it’s always great to see you, Marcus.” He patted me on the left shoulder. When I flinched, more out of instinct than pain, he frowned. “Seems I have another patient.”
Knowing better than to argue with him, I removed my awful robes, then peeled off the white undershirt. Quinn swapped places with me, grinning at my Spock boxers and Converse sneakers. The Healer examined the blue and yellow bruises, then peered closely at the dime-sized scabs.
“This must have been painful.”
“It was. Had a run-in with a wolf a couple of days ago.”
Quinn scowled.
“Well, whoever patched this did an amazing job. Considering the diameter of the holes, you should barely be out of a sling, let alone moving your arm.”
“The Minotaur Mystics had some pretty sweet balm. I was ninety percent operational within a day.”
Jenkins whistled. “I’d love to get my hands on some of that stuff. It seems to work much better than anything I’ve learned to make.”
“Maybe when this whole crapfest is over, you can.”
Assuming the world didn’t go to hell in the process, of course.
He smiled. “I’d like that. Anyway, your shoulder looks awful, but there’s no permanent damage that I can see. As for your other one...” He ran his thumb over the small red line still visible on the deltoid. “This looks more like the work of the Skilled.”
I swelled with pride. “That’s because it is. Centaur arrow that I self-healed.”
Quinn didn’t seem to share my enthusiasm, so I decided not to brag about fixing my rib as well.
“Nice work,” Jenkins said. “You have a talent for this. Ever thought about switching career fields? Or doubling up with your current one? After all, Elders are required to master more than one specialty, so with some proper training, you might be able add the title of Healer to your resume.”
“Thanks, but it’ll be a cold day in Hell before I become an Elder.”
Jenkins grinned. “Your father said the same thing before you were born.”
Crap.
He stepped back. “It appears that you’ll live, so you can get dressed.”
I slid off the table and tugged my shirt and robes back on. “Thanks.”
“I’ll be in my office if you two need anything.” He winked, then exited the room.
Quinn immediately slipped into my arms. Her fingers, thin and smooth, gripped me tightly.
“What is it with you and shoulder injuries?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Just lucky I guess.”
“Lucky?”
“Absolutely. It’s not a sucking chest wound or crotch rot.”
She shook her head. “It’s not funny, Marcus. You always throw yourself into these situations and come out banged up.”
“Says the woman who almost took an arrow to the knee.”
She glared. “I’m being serious. I worry about you. A lot, actually.”
“Same here.” I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.
Quinn frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, far too quickly. “Just, I’ve been meaning to talk with you about...a lot of stuff.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Oh?”
“We’ve been together a while, right?”
“Little over a year, if you’re willing to count us not having an official title for most of that.”
&nbs
p; I grinned. “I am.”
“Good.”
“Anyway, I was thinking about us and—”
“Holy cow, this is good,” Pip mumbled around a large mouthful of food.
I glowered at the Bookworm. “I thought you were getting a sandwich.”
He held up an enormous hoagie stuffed with meat. “You’re missing out.”
“We’re in the middle of something so, you know, scram.”
He pooched out his bottom lip. “Hurts my feelings that I’m not wanted. Guess you don’t want to talk to this guy either.”
Steve poked his head in. “Hey, guys. This a bad time?”
“Yes,” Quinn and I said in unison.
“Too bad. We have to go. All of us.”
“Later,” Quinn whispered, detaching herself from me.
Reluctantly, I shifted my attention fully to Steve. “What’s up?”
He darkened. “The Council has officially declared war on my people.”
Chapter 17
War Drums
“Ariadne cried out to the gods, demanding an answer for her betrayal. But she was offered nothing in return.”
—The Legend of Ariadne
The world flew by, nothing but a blur. I held on to my Bookworm—a greenish-yellow imp named Trixie—for dear life and begged my lunch to stay down. Quinn, traveling next to me, whooped with joy as she gripped Pip.
“Isn’t this a rush?” she shouted.
I just hugged my imp tighter.
A little over two hours into our trip and already the temperature was warmer and the air heavier. We hurtled southwest, connected to the strange powers of the Bookworms as they weaved down the long highway and vaulted over cars or obstacles I never saw coming. Instead of focusing on the streak of colors that was the world around me, I closed my eyes and prayed for the ride to end.
The higher powers must have heard me because my ride jerked to an abrupt halt. I risked opening my eyes and sighed, grateful that the world was stationary.
The folks around us didn’t seem as relieved. Humans, almost all Normals, stared in shock at me, Quinn and our two imps. Several adults gasped when Steve zipped into existence behind me while their kids smiled and waved. He rubbed the head of Carl, his Bookworm transport, then waved back.
