Electromancer

by Daco

  ELECTROMANCER

  A Superhero Romance Novel

  Daco

  Avon, Massachusetts

  Copyright © 2016 by Daco Auffenorde.

  All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

  Published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

  www.crimsonromance.com

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-9687-5

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-9687-2

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-9688-3

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-9688-9

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Fred Machuca, illustration by Ricky Ostendi

  For my superheroes, Isabella and Andrew!

  Thank you for purchasing a Crimson Romance novel. Please sign up for our weekly newsletter for information on new releases, contests, discounts and more.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  More from This Author

  Also Available

  Chapter 1

  With a heart as pure as platinum!

  Electricity at her fingertips!

  She soars like a falcon and travels at the speed of light!

  She’s ELECTROMANCER!

  Alexa Manchester grasped the door handle as the car sped around the last curve on the road leading to The Manchester Electric Company. In the distance, she could see the stately spires of Britannia’s metropolis, Kensington City, shining in the early twilight. Once the land of Round Table knights, romantic poets, kings and queens, and colonial rule, Britannia was now experiencing trying times. Tonight, Alexa would change all that; she would change the world.

  Except she was already ten minutes late.

  The company’s board of directors, along with influential denizens of Kensington City, were assembling in the central courtyard to watch her power up The Magpie generator, to which her father, Mickey, had devoted his life’s work. The Manchester Electric Company already provided most of the world’s electrical power—for Europa, Asiana, Africana, even the Americanas across the Eastern Sea—through conventional means. Now, the revolutionary new Magpie promised to deliver an astronomical source of green energy and save the distressed planet from the energy crisis that had befallen it as a result of a decade-long drought.

  “It’s a splendid time for a ceremony, madame,” Alexa’s chauffeur and butler, Sigfred Sawyer, said. He spoke the words as calmly as if they were out on a Sunday drive.

  “Honestly, Sigfred. Will you ever just call me Alexa?”

  “Yes, madame, as you wish.”

  Alexa suppressed a smile. Despite Sigfred’s insistence on behaving like a blue-haired attendee at Downton Hotel’s high tea, he was still in his thirties. His azure blue eyes and sandy hair, cut in a military flattop, made him look like a Southside street tough turned movie actor. But his hand-tailored Italian suits and the perfect knots in his neckties—a tight double Windsor for button-down collars, an impeccable Eldredge knot for wide collars—revealed the pride he took in his occupation.

  They finally turned into the circular driveway of the power plant, known locally as The Mick, in homage to her father. “I only wish my father were here to see this,” she said.

  “You can rest assured that he is here with you in spirit, madame.”

  Sigfred parked the car in front of the entrance that housed the executive offices. The complex was modeled after Georgian architecture and carved from Bath stone. Manicured Bermuda grass, sculpted bushes, and trellis after trellis of roses in full bloom made the picturesque grounds into a living landscape painting. An inner courtyard with a triple-tiered marble water fountain was prominently placed at its center—because water was, of course, The Mick’s lifeblood. The rear of the building overlooked the dam.

  The facility had been strategically located on the northern boundary of Kensington City, where the East and West Kensington Rivers intersected. Those rivers were sourced by underground springs and runoff water that accumulated from the top of the Mullgany Mountains. Because of this confluence of rivers and groundwater, Kensington City had been spared the severe drought that most of the world had suffered.

  Sigfred turned off the car’s engine and opened Alexa’s door. The main plaza was already filled with the patrons and guests. Mayor Bobby Baumgartner, known throughout Britannia as “The Mayor,” was up on stage, glad-handing other officials and dignitaries.

  “Sigfred, how late am I?”

  “Fashionably late, madame.”

  As soon as Alexa walked onto the stage, Bobby hurried to greet her. “Alexa, you look especially ravishing today,” he said, his eyes flashing quickly to her chest. “Your mother’s necklace?”

  Her fingers lifted the platinum and diamond necklace she wore.

  “Simply beautiful, though only the second most beautiful jewel on this stage tonight.” He winked and placed a hand on her elbow, the politician’s touch, but this one lingered longer than most. Then he regarded her with a devilish smile. An involuntary thrill coursed through her body, causing her to step back and break contact.

  “Flatterer,” she said. Bobby’s dark brown hair and deep green eyes could send the most reserved woman into a giddy, hypnotic trance. She’d had a crush on him, a family friend, when she was a gawky fifteen-year-old and he was a twenty-two-year-old college senior. But he’d never thought of her as anything other than a kid ... until she filled out during senior year. Handsome as he was, she’d quickly realized he was a player. Even if he hadn’t been, she couldn’t afford to be romantically interested in Bobby Baumgartner or anyone else. Not with all her responsibilities.

  “Bobby, the sun is about to go down,” Alexa said. “Why don’t we get started?” She took her place at the podium, and after he introduced her, she welcomed both the guests and the employees.

  “My father would jokingly say that he was like a magpie,” she said. “He was fond of collecting shiny objects. And one of those shiny objects was a meteorite that fell from space and into our own Mullgany Mountains. My father called this silver, crystalline rock Electromite, a new element unknown to our planet. It proved to be more potent than uranium or plutonium, yet in its native form, perfectly harmless. My father would say ‘Alexa, if you raise the level of the river, the boat will rise. Well, the rivers of the world have been lowered by drought, but through the heaven-sent gift of Electromite, we’ve found a way to raise the boat.’ Ladies and gentlemen, with the advent of The Magpie, we’ll be sailing high.”

 
; The crowd quieted and watched as Alexa radioed down to the generator room and directed the engineers to power up The Magpie. When one of the engineers confirmed that he’d flipped the switch, she smiled broadly and made a thumbs-up sign to the crowd. A rainbow of lights illuminated the grounds, and the hum of the new generator filled everyone’s ears. Balloons were released, and a band began playing. The crowd applauded and cheered.

  Bobby wrapped her in a warm embrace, and heat flushed through her body. “I wish Mickey were here to see this, Alexa,” he whispered. “He’d be so proud of you. I’m proud of you.” Her eyes welled up, and a tear fell down her cheek, which seemed to make the crowd cheer even louder.

  When he finally released her, Alexa turned to the audience and raised both arms in triumph, her tears flowing freely now. Then ...

  Boom!

  A violent explosion rocked the entire power plant, shaking the ground seismically. The cheers turned to murmurs of surprise and then to shrieks and screams. A moment later, Kensington City’s entire electrical grid shut down.

  Everyone ran for the road. The Mayor’s bodyguards spirited him away. Alexa sprinted inside the building, where she found the chief engineer, Dr. Charles Chin, racing out of his office, radio to his ear. She fell into step beside him and asked, “What happened, Charlie?”

  “I’m trying to get the generator room,” he said frantically. “No one’s picking up.” He gave up on the radio and punched some numbers into his cell phone, shaking his head a moment later.

  “I’m going down there,” she said.

  “It’s too dangerous, Ms. Manchester.”

  “It’s my responsibility.”

  “Ma’am, you can’t—”

  “Oh, but I can. It’s my company.” Though she sounded brave, the truth was that she was terrified. But this was a day to honor her father, and Mickey Manchester would’ve gone down there. Unlike her father, she wasn’t an engineer, but he’d taught her enough science to understand most of the technology behind running a power plant. “You can stay here, Charlie.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  Alexa started for the elevator, but Chin led her to the stairs. They descended four levels and opened the two-foot steel door to the generator room that housed The Magpie. No workers were present. Maybe they’d all gotten out without injury.

  “Wait here,” she told Chin.

  “Ma’am, I—”

  “You have a family, Charlie. I’m ordering you to stay here.” She paused. “This is my responsibility.”

  When he reluctantly nodded, she entered the cavernous generator room.

  The normally ultra-bright lights inside the generator room had dimmed. A long row of generators with turbines that usually hummed and spun had gone silent. As she neared the control room, she heard only the echo of her high-heeled shoes tapping against the concrete floor.

  Alexa hurried along to The Magpie. The generator was the size of a small house and resembled a child’s toy top sitting on a gigantic snare drum. To her surprise, the outer casing was glowing white hot.

  The Magpie unexpectedly shook. She listened for the sound of a spinning turbine. When she heard nothing, she reached out a hand to feel for anything different—a vibration, a change in temperature. The device was radiating heat. Impossible—her father had always said that the energy would never escape the insulated ceramic casing.

  A second later, she was cast into the air as though she were bait at the end of a fishing rod. But instead of crashing to the floor, she remained suspended in midair above the top of the generator. Some sort of magnetic force had gripped her in a vise. Her ears filled with a high-pitched sound that was piercing but strangely pleasant. Her body went numb, melted, and she fell into a paralytic state. Paradoxically, she felt nothing and everything all at once. But there was no pain, only tranquility, as if she were in the midst of an improbable, yet wonderful dream. She could no longer see or hear or touch, because she no longer existed in human form. Still, she had a complete awareness of what her body had been. She was indefinable and yet remained conscious.

  Suspended above the generator, she sensed something urging her to let go. She resisted, finding herself in a battle of wills to the death with The Magpie. But machines didn’t have wills, so how could this be?

  A memory of days past came to Alexa. She thought of the many times she’d followed her father along the tributaries of the Kensington. Gentle waves lapped against the smooth silt lining of the placid river. Often, she’d remove her shoes to let the sandy mud squish between her toes. Barefoot, she would walk along the shallows and collect unopened shells that she’d gather from just below the surface, hoping to find a freshwater pearl. Now, she flashed on how she’d never found that perfect pearl, which was an odd thought to have at this final moment.

  So, this was how her life would end. She was no longer afraid. Morphing into a plasmatic state, she was pulled through The Magpie’s casing, as though she were subatomic particles able to penetrate anything. The deeper inside she traveled, the more at peace she felt. Once inside the inner core of the turbine, her life force was instantly absorbed into a pure-white spinning ball, which sparkled with beams of silver light. She’d finally found her pearl, and if this was heaven, she was home. She was at peace.

  “Electromancer,” a man whispered.

  “What did you say?”

  “You must leave here at once.”

  “Father?”

  Chapter 2

  Three blocks away ...

  When The Magpie exploded, Sigfred Sawyer had been sitting in a tea room, waiting until it was time to go fetch Alexa. He could’ve stayed and watched, but he had no use for political speeches, nor slippery politicians like Bobby Baumgartner.

  In all honesty, he hadn’t been sure that powering up The Magpie was the right thing to do. Mickey Manchester had had his doubts about the generator. But Alexa was young and enthusiastic and wanted to carry on her father’s legacy. Sigfred admired her spirit, but she was also naive, and naivety could be dangerous. At thirty-seven, he was only eight years older than Alexa. But sometimes the age difference seemed far greater: he was much more worldly than she was despite her wealth and power. At other times, he felt as if there was no age difference at all.

  Suddenly his teacup rattled, the table shook, and a sonic boom roared through the air. As soon as Sigfred heard the blast, he bolted up, sprinted to his car, and headed toward The Mick. The street was filled with vehicles trying to get away from the power plant—drivers honking their horns, flashing their high beams, and swearing at each other. There was no traffic heading in his direction, though he suspected the firefighters and police would arrive soon. At top speed, he rounded the last curve in the road and reached the facility.

  In the daytime, the facility had the appearance of a stately manor, but now that the daylight had faded, the structure shone like a gothic house of horrors capable of giving even the bravest man the shivers. Towers, reminiscent of turrets constructed on the ancient castles of Europa, were located at the corners of the manor. Each had cross-barred windows that wound upward. At night, the dim lights shining through the windows appeared to be torches carried by prison guards. Gargoyles, not otherwise noticeable during the day, appeared prominently lit along the roofline, ready to pounce. The design was Mickey Manchester’s way of helping to discourage ill-intentioned trespassers.

  As soon as Sigfred turned the car into The Mick’s front plaza, he found the place deserted. Everyone had fled. What shocked him, however, was there were no security guards in sight. Had they run as well?

  For about the twentieth time since he’d heard the blast, Sigfred tried to ring up Alexa on her cell phone. Still no answer.

  He killed the headlights, stopped the car, and reached under the glove compartment, where he retrieved his Heckler & Koch USP semiautomatic pistol and his Peerless umbrella (though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky). Moving in a crouched position toward a side entrance, he tried the door. It was locked. Using a metal pic
k that he always carried in his pocket, he unlocked the door in short order. Once inside the building, he headed down a small hallway with only one objective—to protect Alexa Manchester.

  As he walked down the hall, two figures materialized before him. Both were dressed in black, and their faces were covered in masks that resembled the building’s gargoyles. The first, a short, muscular goon, bore the visage of a hysterically laughing simian with maniacal eyes and razor-sharp fangs. The second intruder looked like an elephant with Satan’s horns, especially terrifying because the man seemed almost as large as an elephant.

  Sigfred lifted his umbrella and, with a concise thud, bopped the elephant-sized man over the head in precisely the right spot. Simultaneously, he disabled the second thug with a side kick to the knee. When the man reached toward his waist as if to draw a weapon, Sigfred knocked him unconscious with his versatile umbrella. Then he flipped it over and checked the handle, where five bullets were still securely nestled in their hidden chamber.

  Sigfred’s gaze returned to the men, his fingers itching to unmask them, but questions would have to wait—he needed to find Alexa.

  He sprinted to the late Mr. Manchester’s office—it was still hard to think of it as Alexa’s office. She wasn’t there. He shot out the door and raced down the hallway toward a secure lift in the rear of the building. Unbeknownst to Alexa, he’d helped Mr. Manchester set up security for the building. He removed a panel, revealing a keypad, and punched in some numbers. Good. The code still worked to override the need for an encrypted keycard. As soon as the elevator reached bottom and the door opened, he exited the lift and hurried along until he made it to the stairway that led down to the two-foot thick galvanized steel door—a door that was specifically designed to keep water back in case of a flood. Beyond the door lay the generator room. Though the door was locked, this again provided no impediment. He walked in and almost tripped over an object on the floor, but then realized that it wasn’t an object, it was a human being—Dr. Charles Chin, the facility’s chief engineer.