by Candace Sams
“I spent my mortal life, and a great deal of my immortal one, as a Wolf’s Head. I won’t live like that again. Go back to the castle, get on the phone, and undo whatever current absurdity you’ve gotten me into, Merlin. And do it now!” he angrily commanded.
“Mac…you’ll do this, or you’ll wish such punishment as the tower still existed, I promise you. Furthermore, this petulant attitude will cease. Here and now! Need I remind you of the oath you took when you joined the organization?”
“I know my damned job! But there is nothing remotely suggesting that this kind of pairing is either legal or productive. This chicanery smacks of you, old man. You’ve used your wiles on the queen, and you’ve got ‘er convinced that bringing an American here serves a higher purpose.”
“It does.”
“It’s preposterous, never mind impossible. I know this land like the back of my hand. When Morgan LeFey shows up to fight, she’ll know this land as well,” he said as he pointed at the ground. “What does some entitled, rich American know about this part of the world? What do any of them know of our history or traditions? Christ almighty…they tear down fifty-year-old buildings and think landmarks are being decimated!”
Merlin sighed heavily.
Mac’s eyes narrowed. “Answer this, conjurer…why should the Americans be informed of top secret information that not even our own immortals can access?”
“I decide who accesses what information regarding Morgan LeFey. As to this person being American, you had no such qualms with them coming to ‘this part of the world’ as you put it, during the war years.”
“That was different and you know it! This coming battle will consist of magical elements the Yanks have never heard of.”
“It’s done, Macsen Rhys. Whether you like it or not.”
“And who the bloody hell told this American agent all our secrets? Since when was Washington privy to what’s going on with an Arthurian legend?” Mac railed.
“I had this same argument with Garrett, don’t make me have it with you.” Merlin shook his head in frustration. “This agent has known the facts about me and Morgan LeFey since 1939. Even then, there were a few people in her country who were foresighted enough to believe America’s best interests were in allying themselves with Britain. Though nothing could sway their stubbornness until Pearl Harbor, this agent did what she could to help Britain, even before events of 1941took place.”
“That’s wonderful. Send her a fruit basket, but tell ‘er to stay home! I need a claviger…a citizen of the realm who’ll report back to the powers that be that I’m behaving myself. I need an agency human who knows and plays by our rules, and who will leave any fighting to me.”
“Whether you like it or not, you’ll get no claviger for now. We don’t need a human running about these hills, not when the situation could get them killed.”
“We just agreed that Morgan wasn’t attacking tonight. Likely, not anytime soon.”
“We don’t need another human knowing certain secrets. Whether you like it or not, the American will be here in a few days. She knows about me, and about Morgan LeFey. This agent has proven, for many decades, that she can keep her mouth shut. I suggest you do the same. Moreover, if you do not work on your attitude, I’ll work on it for you. You’re not too big or so powerful that I couldn’t turn you into a damned litter box…anytime I bloody well please!” He lifted his chin. “Now…is there anything else you’d like to say?”
Mac simply scowled.
“I’ll take that as a resounding no,” Merlin affirmed. “You have your orders. Carry them out.”
Merlin turned and stomped away. Whatever Mac thought of the matter, it was done. The news was delivered, if not particularly well received. He could only imagine how Frankie would respond. Of all the Americans he’d ever worked with, she was one of the most cunning and the most strong-willed. She wouldn’t tolerate his boorishness.
Just thinking of her putting Macsen Rhys in his place was amusing. Jut the idea of her confronting the giant Welshman made him smile.
Frankie was Frankie. In every way, she was the exact opposite of the taciturn warrior now cursing loudly on the hilltop behind him.
Mac had quite a surprise coming.
Chapter 2
After leaving Romania, the trip back to Washington DC went without incident. The information on her next assignment, however, came as quite a shock. What little she’d been briefed about led her to believe that things in the UK weren’t going swimmingly. Her presence there had been personally requested by an old friend; one she’d work with previous to and during the war, but with whom she’d had precious little contact since.
Her British contact now went by the name, Jon Merdwyn, but was really the wizard called Merlin, of Arthurian legend. While humanity though him a legend, the magician was real enough. So was the story of Arthur and his knights. This was a closely guarded secret, and one directly relating to her mission now. She was ready to take up a new challenge in Britain; ready to take off using a private jet reserved for missions involving Washington immortals.
The privacy afforded in the luxurious compartment of a custom jet — a jet that cost the American people the obscene sum of a cool hundred million — was necessary for strategically and secretly assessing the situation ahead. As always, the crew consisted of one flight attendant, a pilot and co-pilot.
“Can I get you anything Ms. Radcliffe?” the attendant asked.
“Nothing, Toby. Thank you. I’ve got a briefcase full of crap to read, so I’ll be tied up for the trip, I’m afraid.”
“Just buzz if you change your mind, ma’am.”
She smiled at the congenial man as he left the passenger compartment. This was the same immortal who’d served her on many such flights, to different parts of the world. This time, the trip was different, and she was pretty sure he knew it.
This time, she wasn’t coming back home anytime soon. When she’d arrived back in Washington from Romania, she’d been told to, ‘pack all your gear…you’re going to Britain. Jon Merdwyn will meet you at the other end. You’ll be briefed by him’.
Her current field partner, George Burin, was being assigned elsewhere. She’d said her goodbyes to her Romanian comrade since they’d likely be out of contact until this mission ended, whenever that might be. Years of separation didn’t matter when one lived forever. She’d left lots of friends behind, only to reunite with them many decades later.
The last time these same conditions existed was right before WWII. That meant that something horrible was on the horizon. What was in the briefcase would fill her in, but she wanted the cabin door locked, and the plane at thirty-three thousand feet, before opening it. Though she’d swear on her life that the crew was as honest as her superiors, there was no sense taking any chances. Agency operatives, even those she trusted, could and did make mistakes. When an entire country’s safety was at stake, she took precautions.
Twenty minutes later, when she was sure she’d be left alone, she pulled the briefcase onto a table in front of her. The brown leather case handle had a chain attached to it. The other end of the chain was welded to a special handcuff on her left wrist. The cuff could only be opened by using a special key. Removing the cuff from her wrist, with that key, would only get the briefcase off her arm. The only way to access the case itself was by activating a bio system bearing a copy of her fingerprint. Prior to these actions, only taking her arm off would have resulted in removal of the case from her body. Since such dastardly acts could and had happened, but she didn’t worry over the loss of an arm as much as the loss of the top-secret briefing papers. For an immortal such as herself, bandaging severed body parts together, and waiting a few minutes for the injuries to heal, would reattach the limb. Good as new. In fact, she’d resorted to this tactic before, when she’d been attacked by rogues. This ability to regenerate tissue was but one of many wonders having to do with immortality, and one of the reasons a few humans believed those powers to be unnatural, insidious
, and even demonic.
Those people aside, the perks for being immortal were good, if you kept your head and your heart intact.
For intolerant humans known as Lifeists—those who’d kill her or anyone like her without compunction—there was no meeting of the minds. Their sole purpose was to destroy or at least minimalize the cultural impact of any immortal or Ethereal they could. These hate-filled humans existed all over the world, in various forms.
Immortals had been on this old earth since time began. They’d originated alongside the first humans. Still, no one knew why one person was gifted with eternal life while another wasn’t. There was no DNA study that determined why immortality existed at all. There was one common thread shared by anyone who gained such status.
Some terrible, near-death accident propelled certain people into immortality. Those souls learned of their status when the injuries they’d endured healed very fast, without medical treatment.
Her own change had come at Galveston, and due to nothing she’d done. She’d simply been hurt bad enough to come close to dying. When she’d survived and knew what she’d become, she’d turned herself into the legal authorities in Washington. Because she’d been so willing to report her condition, she’d been given training, and a lifestyle most other people on the planet could never have attained through any other means.
Rules about reporting immortality varied throughout the world. But there were always rules. Regular humans feared immortal presence to the point that laws were made to keep the peace between both groups. She understood the laws, even if others didn’t.
Along with finding magical artifacts, she was also one of America’s immortals sent to go after rogue immortals. These unregistered, powerful criminals did untold damage by using their super human strengths inappropriately. It was the rogues who gave all immortals a bad name. She’d killed a few in her day, and without regret. Unfortunately, normal humans couldn’t tell when an immortal was present. Not until inordinate strength was witnessed. Immortals, rogue or registered, all had these things in common: great speed, great strength, the ability to sense other immortals nearby, and to sense immortal emotions. They were always sterile.
There were other, higher secrets that very few immortals knew about, though she’d been deemed classified to know.
Unknown to most of the planet’s population, there was another sect of immortals in the population. These were called Ethereals. These individuals came into their powers the same way as any other immortal, but they’d been gifted with the added powers of wondrous, awe-inspiring and magical capabilities. Merlin was one such individual.
Ethereals were so very rare that few humans knew they existed at all. Their presence was deliberately hidden from certain government agencies of the world. It was feared that, given rogues’ breathtakingly bad behavior during history, that the world would tolerate no immortal at all if they learned that some of them could wield magic. It was also feared that certain powerful, criminal elements might kidnap Ethereals and use coercion, of many different kinds, to force them into breaking laws or even killing enemies. With the flip of a hand, any trained Ethereal could kill anyone.
Furthermore, Ethereals had the power to mask their immortality, and their magic, from humans and immortals alike. Merlin was considered the most powerful of all of them.
To their credit, no Ethereal had ever gone rogue. Almost, as if they’d evolved beyond causing pain or destruction, they sought to heal and to use magic sparingly, and for the betterment of humanity. Still, the few humans who know of them, kept Ethereals’ existence quite secret. She almost believed that magic was being employed to keep them safely hidden away.
Sadly, anytime someone was believed to have become immortal, whole families were known to disavow their kinsman. How dare they survive a horrifying car accident, or some other equally terrible mishap if immortality was the result? After all, immortality went against the natural order of things. Even certain biblical scholars said so.
Intolerance of the situation was regrettable. Especially since there were so many immortals who’d legally registered, and who now served their countries in finding, and catching rogues that no normal human could possibly contain. With such great physical prowess at their disposal, only an immortal operating at the behest of their government could go after, and arrest or kill, a rogue. People forgot that many immortals had died while making arrests and defending humanity’s safety.
The situation wasn’t fair, but that’s the way it was.
To add to the arguments concerning immortality, things were even more complicated than humanity knew.
Merlin, aka Jon Merdwyn, wasn’t the only survivor of the legendary world of Camelot.
There was one other survivor.
Her name was Morgan LeFey. She existed for centuries, but not by some accidental entry into immortality. She existed through the misuse of magic.
Morgan had learned to called upon dark sources for all the wrong reasons. Her insidious powers made her very long-lived. Thankfully, higher-up in governments of the world had been greatly blessed in keeping her existence a secret. So far.
All the Ethereals felt her presence in the world, even if they could not collectively find her. No one had seen her since the days of Camelot. She was that good at hiding herself.
It seemed that the lady, herself, wasn’t ready to reveal her whereabouts or her existence. Not until she deemed her time was right. Her hiding behind others greatly aided governments in keeping her presence in the world hidden secret. Sooner or later, however, the hiding would stop. She would show up, and without any puppet in front of her.
Morgan, by whatever moniker she’d taken from one century to the next, had been behind such evil as the rise of the Nazi Party in WWII. It was she who’d advised Hitler’s minions to seek out and find certain relics of ancient magic; relics that existed on the world’s landscape but that had been hidden by time and natural disaster. Such mystical items of magic were not, in and of themselves, evil. They were simply endowed, by Mother Nature, with magical qualities. It was the user who decided whether any talisman, amulet, or relic became fearful. Morgan, in her zeal to destroy all that King Arthur represented, must never get ahold of any other magical object, no matter how small or trivial. That was the reason she’d been sent to Romania. Morgan meant to rule the world. After disappearing when her son, Mordred, died at Camelot, she’d been nothing but a blight on the skin of humanity. It was believed she could not show herself nowadays because the dark arts she’d abused had taken their toll on her physical appearance. Whether that was true or not, Morgan remained a very real threat. She swore to kill anyone who stood for the same values as Arthur — which meant she’d destroy most of the planet’s citizens if she could. Democracy, freedom of choice, the ability to decide one’s own fate. These were not qualities a tyrant like her stomached.
Frankie was an immortal. She could fight and fight well. She would fight Morgan or anyone else who’d destroy the world’s chances at democracy and freedom. In her arsenal of fighting techniques or attributes, she had one small oddity. It was one small quirk that made her different from other immortals. Nobody knew why a girl from Galveston had this one immortal quirk, but it was there. It was all hers. She’d always been able to pick up any object and discern if it was magical or not. While every Ethereal could do this. To date, she believed she was the only immortal to have that small, extra gift. Because of this unique capability, she’d become very useful to the US.
Right before American had entered WWII, she’d been briefed about Merlin’s existence, the reality of Ethereals in the world, and the truth concerning the entire Arthurian legend to include Morgan LeFey.
It’d come as quite a shock that she and the majority of the world’s other immortals had never been told about magical immortality. Then, keeping magical beings secret began to make sense. The less anyone knew about magic, the less humans could misuse it.
Since that time, she’d been using her small gift to look for
enchanted objects all over the world — with permission of many cooperating country’s secret bureaus — to protect those objects, and hold them in vaults in the US. It was generally thought that the USA was one of a few countries that could guaranteed such relics’ safety. These actions were only ever engaged with the help of, and at the behest of, the very few world leaders who knew of Morgan’s existence. It was long feared the so-called whore of Camelot would send forth her own brand of rogues into any country, and decimated its population and resources. She’d done it several times since the destruction of Camelot. During the late thirties and forties, strategists believed she looked for any relic of magical qualities; anything that could keep her alive and practicing dark magic. To do so anonymously, she’d used Hitler as a front. So, it seemed, she needed tyrants to exist.
Merlin had long ago revealed to certain secretive governmental bodies that Morgan’s use of dark magic had likely driven the woman quite insane. It was Merlin’s visions through scrying and magical arts that often led to news of Morgan’s movements, if not her whereabouts or her physical description. Lately, some had said that Merlin’s visions were faltering. But Merlin’s visions were all the world had.
After all this, the world-at-large still didn’t know about Morgan LeFey, Ethereals like Merlin, or that Camelot was ever real to begin with. That was the depth of the secret. That was the care the planet’s powers-that-be took with the secret. It was left for immortals like her, operating within their country’s laws, to do what they could to mitigate Morgan’s dark powers.
Someday, that cat would erupt from the world bag. Frankie didn’t want to imagine what would happen to the politicians, immortals, and other authorities who’d tried to hide everything.
For now, and into the foreseeable future, the population could keep and nurture its hatred of its immortals. They didn’t know something else, like Morgan LeFey, lay on the horizon.
On the bright side, more and more humans engaged immortals who obeyed the laws. There was something to be said for a growing attitude of societal inclusion. But there were, and always would be, haters. Even if immortals like her were the only policing agents who could take out rogues, where regular human law enforcement groups could not, nobody thanked her for her efforts. Nobody. That being the case, and to cover her covert missions, she pretended to be human when and as she could. She moved a lot. Changed names when appropriate. Re-made herself.
