by John Conroe
Krista stood in the doorway, looking a little weary. Behind her, three big guards stood in military black, wearing armor and faceguards. The girl threw a pair of handcuffs onto my platform.
“Put those on,” she said.
Surprised, I studied the cuffs. Smith & Wesson brand, but I didn’t think they had come from the factory with runes and glyphs carved into them. A few of the runes were recognizable, but many were in alphabets and patterns that I knew of but didn’t really know.
The metal was cold when I ratcheted them shut over my own wrists. Immediately, I felt a kind of numbness. A puffy feeling in my arms, chest, and back, a little like the dribble-mouthed thing that happens when the dentist gives me novocaine.
Nodding to herself in satisfaction, she motioned to one of the guards, who dragged my platform over to the doorway She stepped onto the plastic and placed three necklaces over my head. A muffled feeling, like blankets covering my head, came with each necklace, the effect building in weight.
“Okay, he’s ready,” she said to the guards. Two of them grabbed my arms, and my feet left the ground. Bigger, stronger, faster—boy and how! These guys each made two of me, and they didn’t appear to be laboring very hard to whisk me into the hallway outside my cell and into a bee’s nest of activity. Workers were installing sheets of some grayish metal on the walls and ceiling. The fact that they were wearing what looked like radiation suits and air filters made me wonder just what kind of metal it was. Whatever it was, it seemed to be very heavy, based on the massive noise one sheet made when a worker dropped it. All of this took place in a few seconds as I was hauled down the hall and through a massive metal door that was also receiving a gray metal makeover. Down industrial stairs, into a massive underground room whose corners had the biggest shock absorbers I’d ever seen. The ceiling was two stories overhead and the passageway we entered was made of cinderblocks walls only one story tall, leaving me in mind of a rat’s maze.
“It’s a defunct missile silo. The big springs were to help absorb an attack, supposedly even a nuclear one,” Krista said, smirking at my shocked expression. “Welcome to ground floor and your new abode.”
A thick steel door led into a set of cells with heavy metal bars and a ceiling that looked like it was made from the same slabs of concrete that parking garages are built with. A camera hung from the ceiling, a built-in microphone next to the gleaming red light. The handcuffs and necklaces held me to almost nothing, but a mental burst of almost nothing was enough to cause the microphone to smoke a bit. The red camera light stayed on, though.
There was a long row of cells, the visible ones all empty except one, the third from the right. My cell was furthest on the right, at least I assumed it was my cell by the florescent orange circle spray-painted onto the floor and the copious amount of sigils and runes drawn around it and even on the ceiling above it. The two thugs holding my arms launched me through the open cell door and into the circle, leaving me in a painful heap. Yup, my cell all right.
“Easy there. Don’t hurt the merchandise!” Krista admonished the two. They appeared unfazed by her comment, looming in the corners of the cell while she knelt down and touched one black polished nail to the edge of the circle. A silent thrum of power arced around me as the barrier was closed.
“Okay, well, that should do it. Not as fancy as your other digs, but they needed the space and these accommodations come with a friendly face… ere… a face, anyway,” Krista said, waving one hand at the other cell, where Caeco watched us with a flinty expression.
One by one, the guards left the cell as Krista checked over the wards one last time. Then she left, too, and the guard by the door slammed it shut, the lock clicking into place.
“Miss me while I’m gone?” the Goth witch asked sweetly as I rolled upright and dusted off my face. “You know you will,” she added as she exited the cell block through the main door. It, too, clanged shut with an ominous bong.
“Hey, you all right?” I asked Caeco in a whisper. She ignored me. “I said… are you all right?”
Her head swiveled to look at me. “Why are you whispering?” she asked in a normal voice.
“Ah, it just seemed to fit the mood. So, are you going to answer or are you not speaking to me for some reason?”
“I am almost without injury. Nothing but a scratch,” she said, sounding a touch regretful. The mental image I had seen her in back in my old cell exactly matched her real cell, which gave me some food for thought.
“Listen, they obviously implanted your nannites with some kind of command,” I started.
The look she gave me was cold as ice. “You think?” Her tone was just as frosty.
“Oh! So that’s how it is? Gonna be that girl, are you?” I said as I surveyed my own customized dwelling space. Closing my eyes, I used other senses to feel out the containment spells as I turned in place.
Behind me, I could almost feel the glare of Caeco’s eyes. Reminded me of when I first met her. Good times.
The spellcraft was pretty solid; really solid, actually. A strong barrier for a fire witch or warlock. It was tightly woven, which spoke highly of Krista’s abilities, as it was obviously done at the last minute. I found some gaps, tiny really, but gaps nonetheless. Little weaknesses that I could, given time, wear away.
“What girl?” came the voice behind me.
“Pardon?” I asked.
“You said I was being that girl. I want to know what girl that is?” she asked, exasperated that I didn’t understand. I did actually, but it was all part of my master plan at drawing her out of her self-inflicted mental beatdown.
“Oh. The girl who blames herself for things she can’t control.”
“What the fuck would you know about that, Mr. Oh-so-Perfect warlock?”
“Easy. I spent a good three or four years blaming myself for my mom’s death. All my fault, you know.”
“Give me a break, you were what? Eight?”
“Six. It didn’t have to make sense, just as it makes no sense for you to beat yourself up along with anyone who tries to make you see reason. Kids are self-centered. I assumed it had to be my fault.”
“Oh, so now I’m self-centered, too?” she asked, eyes narrowed.
Okay, so my master plan sucked. “Go ahead. Lash out. Maybe it’ll make you feel better. Then, when you get past it, you’ll maybe realize that maybe it’s not your fault that they put a shock collar in your little electronic hitchhikers. Then maybe we can do something about it.”
“As fascinating as this discussion is, could you kids keep your lover’s quarrel to a dull roar?” a male voice suddenly requested from much further down the row of cells.
I raised my eyebrows silently at Caeco.
“Some more cells. A couple of prisoners,” she said, something in her tone of voice making my ears perk up.
“Yeah? Like us kind of prisoners?”
She considered for a moment, then shook her head. “No, a hemivore and a lycanthrope.”
I looked at her blankly.
“A vampire and a werewolf.”
“You’re shitting me?” I asked. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not shitting me? Really?”
“You are a warlock and you’re shocked at the presence of a vampire and a werewolf?”
“I’m aware they exist, but I’ve never met any. Led sort of a sheltered life, ya know.”
“You know we can hear every word you say, right?” the male voice asked.
“That’s Frank; he’s the furry one. The other is Charles,” Caeco said.
“I’ll show you furry, little girl!” he muttered. The other one never said a word.
Caeco was still staring at me, making me a little glad the bars were solid steel. I probed the unseen etheric walls around me with my Crafting senses, looking for more little cracks and chinks. Not many, but a few.
“What could we possibly do about command files in technology as advanced as this?” she asked, interested despite her self-loathing.
“Well,
seeing as you bled into my mouth and gave me a complete and really gross sample of your little micro buddies, and seeing as I’m a genius with all things tech and code, then the possibility of me rewriting the executable file jumps to a really high probability.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she asked although her tone had changed. Something new had popped in between the sarcasm and the self-doubt… hope.
“See, my mouth tastes like ass. Part of that is a serious lack of hygiene due to the circumstances, but a bit of my dragon breath is blood—your blood. And so some of the nannites that were in you are now in me… and we’ve been chatting. Getting to know each other. I’ve worked out a bunch of stuff and I think I almost have the executable file rewritten. Did you know there is one that stops your heart as well? Took care of that one first.”
“You re-wrote them? How? To do what?”
“You really got to ask how? What do you think I do when I commune with the machines? I’ve been speaking to machines since I could touch them.”
“What did you rewrite them to do?” she asked a second time.
“Well, the one that stops your heart will now give you a jolt of adrenaline and the one that freezes you up… well, from now on, you take your clothes off instead.”
She stared at me for a second, conflicting emotions making her face twitch. I’m not sure, but I think I saw some more hope mixed with exasperation with a dash of embarrassment thrown in.
“You ass,” she said finally. I laughed, which made her smile, just a little.
“How are you supposed to change the rest of my nannites?” she asked.
“That’s easy. We just have to kiss. Just a short makeout session should do it. Five minutes, tops,” I said, hands on hips and resurveying Krista’s spell work. I looked back at Caeco after a moment to see something I’d never expected… panic.
“I’m joking. I just have to touch you and I can change the rest. Or rub some of my saliva on your skin and the ones you left with me will rewrite the others,” I said, letting her off the hook. Jeeze, it was just a joke. She looked like kissing me would end the world. Fantastic.
Brushing aside the sudden hurt I felt, I reached out to the invisible circle in front of me. A field of blue began to form, an arc that was just the idea of color that darkened to become almost solid blue as my fingers got closer. When I touched it, it was like fire and ice, electric shock and raw pain. I snapped my hand away, the instant reflex of touching a hot stove. Then I touched it again. I lasted longer the second time but ultimately pulled away. Third time’s the charm. And it was, as by now I had grown, not accustomed exactly, but at least prepared for the sensation. My palm flat on the circle’s surface, I pressed. It pressed back. I pressed again and held it for a few heartbeats. Then I pulled away.
“Didn’t work?” she asked.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that exactly,” I replied. What she hadn’t seen, what I had even hidden from the ceiling-mounted camera at the doorway was that my index finger had made it through. Just the tip, maybe a few millimeters of skin. But that was enough—or at least, it would be.
Satisfied for the moment, I pulled back and went back to looking at our cells.
She snorted and sat down, looking at the ground in front of her.
Sitting seemed like a good idea, like a good place to study my new surroundings from. The bars were all solid steel, the locks very high quality, all mechanical, not electric. The floor was concrete, meters thick, if my Earth senses were accurate. Krista’s Fire wards were solid work for the most part, but her Earth wards were minimal, almost an afterthought. I hadn’t displayed any Earth abilities during my fight with Miseri’s team or during the hours of confinement in the other cell. So the Earth wards really were a bit of extra insurance. There was weakness there, weakness I intended to explore. Sitting cross-legged, arms loosely draped over my knees, I let my senses expand outward and downward, sifting around and slipping through the guardian wards.
Chapter 34- Krista
Struggling to keep her cool, Krista slid out of the guard room and headed for the stairs. Still shocked at what she’d just witnessed on camera, her only thought was to get outside—to leave this forsaken hole in the earth.
The boy had placed his hand against her circle and leaned on it like it was a wall. A motherfucking wall! Circles hurt—they hurt like hell. And a circle made to oppose your element hurt even more. The pressure he had put on his prison with that simple gesture blew Krista’s mind. The blonde bitch Miseri was right! He was more, a lot more than they had thought.
Impossible. She knew there were plenty of witches more powerful than herself, of that she held no illusions. But to stand there and press your motherfucking hand on someone else’s circle like it was nothing? Unfucking heard of! And he was a he! Im-fucking-possible!
She threaded her way through soldiers and technicians, struggling with her thoughts but still aware of the vast activity around her. Whatever this Brutal Asset was, it was big. But in her world, the biggest thing was the lanky, blue-eyed boy in the cell below. A cell she was suddenly much less sure about.
Reaching the top of the silo, she entered the command center that led to the exit. A guard turned to her with a combination smile and frown.
“Hey, Krista girl. Ah, where are you headed? The base is close to lockdown,” he said.
“Hi, Kurt. I gotta get out for a bit. You know, commune with nature and all that stuff. This concrete pit wears me down,” she said, smiling back at the flirty guard. She was well aware that Kurt wanted to get into her pants, not at all put off by her witchy nature. Some of the guards were intimidated by her power, but most were blinded by their own male nature. She used that ruthlessly.
“Witch stuff?” he asked, eyebrows raised. Krista’s habit of leaving the facility for the topside forest was well known and well documented in the security logbooks.
“Exactly,” she agreed. Actually, she needed to make a call.
“There are double patrols in the woods, with Hounds. You might want to stay on the airstrip,” he suggested.
“Okay, thanks Kurt. Appreciate the heads up. I hate those Hounds.”
She wasn’t lying. The mutated, freaky cyborg dogs that AIR had developed spooked her. Abominations against Nature. At least two of the video feeds on the security panel in front of Kurt came from the eyes of the Hounds on patrol.
Shuddering at the thought, Krista proceeded up the spiral staircase of the command center and through the access tunnel. The decommissioned Atlas F missile silo with a single missile magazine had been purchased by AIR in some sort of private transaction. Buried deep in the New Hampshire White Mountains, it had been shut down and then sold to a survivalist type. The buyer had attempted to turn it into a survivalist’s wet dream, an end-of-the-world redoubt that could house a large group of like-minded preppers in comfort and even luxury. After adding a private airstrip, hangar, and an attractive vacation lodge over the complex entrance, he had run out of money. AIR had plenty of funds to convert the two-story launch complex into a command and security center, as well as add seven floors to the one-hundred-eighty-foot-deep silo. It made a perfect research facility, easy to secure, hidden, and protected from prying eyes. And they got it dirt cheap.
She climbed the stairway that brought her to ground level, the door opening into a pleasantly appointed vacation cabin designed and built like a ski chalet. More guards were present up top, the cabin acting as their barracks of sorts. Some nodded at the pretty Goth girl, some moved away, but all of them watched her.
Ignoring the attention, she stepped out into the bright September afternoon, taking a moment to let the warm sunlight fall on her face. The Goth thing was her current fad and it worked well with her naturally pale skin, but she wasn’t married to it. She was, however, deeply connected to the natural world, and getting outside was vital to her health. AIR paid her as a consultant, on loan from her Circle in Concord, and she was hoping the job would end soon. This base, the scientists and
freaky experiments, were all wrong. Not to mention the Portal at the bottom of the silo, the one that had almost formed itself when she had painted a pentagram and circle inside the giant Lexan cube. That had been her primary job, but she had been on hand when Agent Miseri’s request for containment quarters had come in.
Strolling down the airstrip, she followed Kurt’s advice and stayed out of the woods, avoiding the patrols. The runway ran east-west and the western end turned into brushy fields, which, when she reached them, gave her a healthy micro-environment to enjoy and recharge in. When she sat cross-legged on the warm earth, it also allowed the grass and brush to block her from the view of the two snipers stationed on the roof of the hangar. The observation post there was usually manned by just one person, and they weren’t normally a sniper. Today, Krista had seen two men with massive rifles watching through powerful scopes. Security was definitely ramped up.
