"The Secretum is connected to us, and we to them through the Rings of Dominion, whether we like it or not. Whatever it is they do, whatever reason they exist, they are not a force for good. And there is no one else in the world that has any chance of finding and stopping them. The fact that we haven't seen or heard from them in a while means nothing. According to the prophecy on the Dominion Stone, this group waited millennia for the coming of the Bringer. They have not been inactive for the last few months, despite all appearances to the contrary."
She shared just a hint of a glance with Grant, but didn't press it.
"I'm sorry to put it in such terms, but I must say it: It's us or them. Choose now. We must find them before they are able to finish what the Keeper started."
"And just exactly what did the Keeper start?" Alex asked. "Do we even know?"
"All we have to go on is the prophecy that was on the Dominion Stone," Morgan replied. "The Stone spoke in vague terms about the coming of the Bringer, the `man of miracles,' who would wield the Seal of Dominion. One passage in particular spoke of a clash between the Bringer and the wielder of a weapon of silver. Their battle would `bring forth a day unlike any other. No act of man, no work forged of his hands, can prevent the torment that day will herald.' There's much more than that, about the Thresher, the Forging, the Keeper ..."
"Sounds like a fight between Payton and Grant," Alex replied. "I mean, the Bringer fighting someone who has a silver weapon? Come on."
"No," Morgan explained. "The exact wording of the passages states, `He who wields the weapon of purest silver will stand between the Bringer and the day of torment.' That doesn't necessarily mean Payton."
"The Keeper," Grant said. "He wore a silver ring. But he was buried under thousands of tons of earth, and his ring with him. And he told me that ring was one of a kind. Wouldn't that mean we're in the clear, as far as this-"
Grant's entire body flinched as his head snapped around sharply to look behind the couch, off into a distance too far away for the others to see. Julie was so startled by the movement, she jerked away from him.
Everyone fell silent, watching him. He jumped to his feet, and the entire room registered alarm.
What was his name again? The big guy Julie introduced me to this morning?
Henrike.
Oh, no.
"Leaving the country is sounding better all the time," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fletcher, execute Emergency Code Black. Now."
The federal strike team held its high-powered rifles ready, beams of light sweeping across the darkened warehouse floor. Thick, murky clouds of gas meant to render anyone inside unconscious swirled and billowed throughout the vast room.
Special Agent Ethan Cooke motioned for his men to fan out and cover the entire building. Like the rest of the team, he was dressed in black from head to foot, his weapon held out ahead with a light attached to the barrel, and a balaclava and gas mask covering his face.
The warehouse was nearly pitch-black, the only light filtering in from streetlamps outside through cracks in the boards covering the windows high above.
"Infrared indicates no warm bodies, sir," another agent spoke softly into his earpiece.
"We may not be able to trust infrared," Ethan reminded him. "Or any other means of detection."
Still, he was well inside the building now, and by all appearances, it had been gutted and abandoned hours ago.
"Federal agents!" he shouted as loud as he could. "Show yourselves!"
"Sir?" someone squawked in his earpiece. One of the flashlight beams was dancing about sixty feet away. Quiet and cautious as a cat, Ethan approached the spot with his weapon at the ready.
"What is it?" he whispered.
The agent replied by shining his light down at the ground before them. There, on the cement floor, was a barely noticeable red stain, no bigger than an apple. It bore signs of having been scrubbed, an attempt to wash it clean.
"Tag it," Ethan ordered, moving on.
The agent complied by placing a small flag on the floor to mark the spot and prevent the other agents from stepping on it.
Fifteen minutes later, he pronounced the building officially secure. There was nothing here-no people, no equipment, no documents, nothing-though he expected to find plenty of trace amounts of DNA throughout the facility once forensics arrived. He'd sent an agent to find the building's breaker box and turn on the lights almost five minutes ago. But the man hadn't reported back yet....
"I'm curious," a voice called out in the dark. Ethan spun to see a man standing in the main doorway entrance. The details of his appearance were obscured by the lights behind him outside. All Ethan could see was a black silhouette of the man's body.
Dozens of guns were drawn to bear upon the stranger. Ethan considered ordering them to stand down, but knew it was pointless either way. If this was who he suspected it was, their weapons were useless.
"What's the going price," the man asked, "to get a superhuman to betray the rest of us?"
Ethan swallowed. The rest of us.
"Twenty large," he replied, stepping slowly forward. He decided to be honest; not knowing the full extent of what this man was capable of, it was better to start out on the right foot. "I apologize for the deception, sir, but as I'm sure you know, you're not the easiest man in the world to find. I would have used one of my agents with a facsimile ring, but word on the street has it that you'd know the difference."
Guardian took three steps inside the door, his hands clasped casually behind his back. Ethan saw his face for the first time and matched it to the photos and television coverage he'd seen.
Adrenaline surged, his heart pumped. It was him.
"Poor Henrike," Guardian said, referring to the man who had betrayed him and his friends. "He threw away his first and last chance to do the right thing."
"Did he?" Ethan replied, grim.
"I'd suggest you take my advice and leave him be. He's already on the run, and we made sure he won't be of further use to you."
"Yes, I know," Ethan conceded.
Ethan had found Henrike a little over an hour ago, sitting on the sidewalk near the same pay phone he'd called Ethan from. But he wasn't the same man Ethan had met a few days ago. The burly Henrike was lost and confused and terrified. He had no idea where he was or what he was doing there.
"What do you want from me?" Guardian asked.
"Don't you care to know who I am? Who I speak for?"
"Henrike told me that much," Guardian replied. "Not that I needed the confirmation. We knew Uncle Sam would come looking for us sooner or later. The only question is why? What do you want?" he repeated.
"We want to know who you are. Where you come from. How you gained your special abilities. What your agenda is, and that of your group. I assure you we mean you no harm," Ethan took another step forward, changing his tactics. Perhaps he'd respond to an offer.... "We know about all that you've done recently to help the people of this city, the countless lives you've saved, and we're grateful. Washington would like to open the lines of communication with you, and find out if we could work together, coordinate our efforts somehow."
"So," Guardian replied thoughtfully, "you want to be my best friend ... and to convince me of your sincerity, you brought an arsenal?"
"Our weapons are for defense only, we honestly mean you-"
"No harm," Guardian finished. "You mentioned that. Just as we mean you no harm. Now, do you believe me when I say that?"
Ethan hesitated. "I want to. But my superiors won't find it acceptable to take the word of a man who goes to such great lengths to keep his identity a secret. Let's face it: you're not even a taxpayer."
Something akin to amusement passed across Guardian's features.
"Won't you at least tell me your name? Your real name?" Ethan tried, blinking back the sweat that stung his eyes. He had to consciously force himself not to let his eyes shift to the two members of his team that were sneaking in the back door behind Guardian. If hi
s pupils twitched even slightly ...
Guardian ignored the question. "My People and I are to be left alone. We are not your agenda. We are not a mystery for you to unravel. We are nothing to you. As far as you are concerned, we do not exist."
"I'm afraid Washington will disagree," Ethan replied, trying to hide the quiver in his voice. His men were slowly and silently raising their weapons to bear on Guardian ... if only they could tranquilize him ... "As will every major world leader around the globe."
"If you get a shot, take it," another agent whispered over the frequency Ethan's entire team shared, a message intended for the men sneaking up behind Guardian.
NO!! No no no!
But how could Ethan countermand those orders without alerting Guardian?
Two loud shots caused everyone in the room to retrain their weapons on Guardian, but Ethan knew immediately that something was wrong. Those shots were much louder than they should have been.
His two agents behind Guardian lay on the ground, the rifles gone from their hands, but the fronts of their black jumpsuits were smoking.
The bullets had never left their guns. They fired, but the guns exploded in their hands.
Guardian's demeanor changed ever so slightly, and he made the tiniest of gestures with his eyes. The two men on the ground flew up into the air and smacked their backs against the ceiling. They remained there, lying up against the roof, as if gravity were reversed.
"Do you still mean me no harm?" Guardian said slowly, menacingly. "Because my feelings on the matter are changing as we speak."
"It was a mistake, I'm sorry-"
"I'll say it again, since you didn't seem to hear me the first time," Guardian continued. Still he stood rooted to his spot, unthreatened and unconcerned for his own safety. "Stay. Away. From us. I would take no pleasure in destroying you, but don't push me. This is the only warning you will get."
Guardian gave a fleeting glance to the weapon in Ethan's hand. The flashlights on all of their weapons went dark, while Ethan's gun fell apart and out of his hand. Its dozens of metallic parts clanged on the ground. The only light in the building came from the indirect glow of the streetlamps outside.
Then he turned, exposing his back to them, and walked away slowly. Confidently.
Guardian walked calmly away until he was almost out of sight, and Ethan had to appreciate the man's bravado. Why wouldn't he show them his back, indifferent to whatever other hidden weapons they might have? They could throw twenty grenades at Guardian, and what good would it do?
Guardian paused just outside the door. Ethan looked up in time to see the two men on the ceiling plummet facedown toward the ground. Three feet from the floor, they froze and hovered for an instant before they fell again and smacked unconscious against the cement.
Ethan looked up and Guardian was gone.
INTERREGNUM
Substation Omega Prime The Secretum of Six Ruling Council Inner Chamber
"DO THEY KNOW THE TRUTH?"
"They know nothing."
"We have reports that the one they call Morgan may know. She has discovered much of late. Too much."
"Then the threat must be eliminated."
"Agreed. "
"What if she reveals her findings before we can intervene?"
"It does not matter. She cannot stand between the Bringer and his destiny. No one can."
"He draws closer, doesn't he?"
"Yes. But closer to finding us, or closer to his destiny?"
"They are one and the same."
"Are we certain of that? Is there no chance he could fulfill the prophecy elsewhere-"
"No. Remember the words of the Ancients. At the appointed hour, the Bringer will meet his destiny in this most sacred place. It can happen only here, and so shall it be."
Flight 910 39,000 feet over the Atlantic Ocean
First class held a group of ten people with odd appearances. Eccentric rich folk, most of the other passengers thought, living the weird life. The first-class passengers certainly looked nothing like Grant Borrows and a team consisting of his most powerful friends.
But it was them.
Grant wasn't sure what to be more amazed at-that Lisa had managed to secure the entire first-class section of the plane for their team, or that Julie and Fletcher had already had a stash of disguises hidden away for just such an occasion. Their collected materials included wigs, fake beards, nose appliances, shoes with lifts, odd clothing, glasses, hats, a few colored contact lenses, and even a cane for Daniel.
The disguises wouldn't measure up to Hollywood's standards, but they would do well enough to get them to London undetected. Especially Grant, who had the world's most recognizable face these days.
At least, they hoped the disguises would work.
Fletcher had quickly cooked up a fake photo ID and passport for each one of them to go with their new looks. Grant, having no desire to go all out with his disguise, instead opted for a dingy trucker's cap, sunglasses, and hooded sweatshirt to cover most of his head. He looked like nearly ninety percent of the young men at malls these days. It was a bit conspicuous, but with everyone else sporting more eye-catching disguises, he guessed that few people were likely to notice him at all.
As for the public plane ride, it was the only solution that fit with the group's current budget and short notice. Grant had suggested renting a private jet at one point, but Lisa was forced to point out that the money and resources his grandfather had given him months ago had been burned through all too quickly, and they simply couldn't afford to blow such a huge chunk of money on what she referred to as "a hop across the ocean."
Grant took comfort in knowing that the people he cared about most in the world were right here alongside him, as well as the most powerful Loci he could find, and all of them were ready to take this headlong leap into the unknown. Julie, Alex, Morgan, Fletcher, Nora, Hector, Daniel, and Lisa surrounded him. The final member of the team was the new guy, Wilhelm, who Grant had asked to join them at the last moment on a hunch that his powers might prove useful in the field. Payton, as Morgan had pointed out last night, would meet them in London at some point. The other Loci who had lived with the team in L.A. were given strict orders to report to a reserve safe house Morgan had secured just outside the city limits and keep a low profile until Grant and the others returned.
Leaving behind the people of Los Angeles, venturing out into a world that feared them, even attempting to locate the Secretum and put a stop to their machinations-it was a lot to digest for everyone. And it was taking its toll on each of them. For the first time in a long while, Grant saw anxiety and uncertainty written across his friends' faces.
But this was hardly the only thought occupying Grant's time during the flight. His sister's illness was cause for unending concern. Aside from his chosen role as protector of the innocent, Julie's welfare was his top priority. Then there were wild cards like Nora and Daniel, who were both demonstrating increasingly unpredictable behavior.
And what to make of his phone call from the man named Devlin? Was his destiny as the Bringer still in play?
Grant found himself momentarily pondering the Secretum of Six, where it came from, how it operated, and who it was. How had his grandfather come to be a part of their ranks? Devlin must have known his grandfather if both of them were such high-ranking members of the Secretum; Devlin no doubt knew more about his grandfather than Grant ever would. Where was Devlin right now? How was it that the Secretum came upon the unimaginable resources and influence it pos sessed? How did the Dominion Stone and the rings fit into things?
And just what was the destined role of the so-called Bringer, anyway?
His thoughts drifted to the world thousands of feet below, teetering on the brink of madness. He wondered what horrific event would hit the globe next and what nations and peoples would be affected by it. And what about his exodus from L.A.? It was only a matter of time before the media realized he and his friends were no longer there. How would the people of the
world react to the thought of him potentially arriving on their doorsteps?
Stop it, stop this! You're going to make yourself crazy.
"What do your eyes see?" he reminded himself. Stay on point.
Don't give in to worry or doubt. Are you going to let fear overpower you or keep you from what you're meant to do?
No. Never.
Some lessons, after all, only had to be learned once. And after all that had happened to him at the hands of his grandfather, this particular lesson was one he had down cold.
He glanced at Julie, who sat next to him. She was listening through earbuds to some in-flight radio station and fiddling on a laptop she'd brought along that looked like it contained her entire Railroad database, among other things. He surmised that she and Fletcher were already cooking up a replacement for Daniel's warehouse, so that when they returned to L.A. the Railroad could reboot and the group would have a new headquarters.
Her dark brown hair was hidden beneath an ultra-short, wavy blonde wig that was surprisingly convincing. Her ears and fingers were adorned with sparkling jewelry, and she wore a crisp, fashionable gray pantsuit. Grant had no idea if it lived up to the "high-powered female executive" disguise it was meant for, but the laptop should be enough to put her over the top as long as no one scrutinized her too closely.
Cooking up convincing disguises for all ten of them hadn't been easy. But then, when you have a roomful of some of the world's smartest people, it could be a lot harder.
For a brief, fleeting moment Grant thought of how much easier it would be to pull this off if Hannah were here. Her powers of misdirection would come in very handy right now.
And having Hannah herself here would be ...
No. Don't do that.
He sighed. Nothing good ever came from letting himself linger on those thoughts. There was no changing the past, no magical Ring of Dominion that would allow anyone to rewrite history. Or wake the dead.
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