by John Conroe
“I do feel that way… Lydia’s treatment of me is appalling. So hurtful,” he said, struggling to keep a straight face. “In fact, it borders on harassment.”
Outside, I could hear Tanya talking to Poppy’s parents as she gave them back their child. Lydia spoke quietly, knowing Nika and I could hear her. “Tell him he ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“Lydia says she’s just getting started,” I told him.
“Unwanted and pervasive… those are the terms, right Nika?” he asked the blonde vampire as we all headed to the stairs.
“Don’t get me involved,” she said, smiling. “But you’ll want to document all of the incidents to HR. That’s the pervasive part,” she added helpfully.
“Traitor,” Lydia said outside. Nika looked at me and winked, then exited the house.
“That was fast thinking in there, Declan,” I said.
“No, I’ve been considering harassment charges for months,” he said, deliberately misunderstanding me.
I shook my head and he laughed.
“Yeah but it’s a one-off isn’t it? That demon will spread the word in Hell, right?” he asked. “It won’t work again.”
“Probably not, but you can never tell. Most likely the news will get out, but they hate each other as much as they hate us, so you never know. But tell me more about that witch-demon language,” I said.
“Yeah, me too,” a beautiful platinum blonde said at the doorway, green eyes locked on the witch kid. “I don’t think I like evil-sounding witch and demon bartering languages,” she said, handing him a Bluetooth earpiece.
“It spoke and I understood. Weird, huh?” he said, staring back at her.
“It was created by witches to speak with summoned demons without others knowing what was said. Sorrow had complete knowledge of it,” Omega said through the earpiece as Declan put it in his ear. “You are unharmed, Father?”
“Yeah Omega, I’m good,” Declan said to the most powerful intellect on the planet. Demons and electronics do not mix, and Omega had been almost blind and dumb to what was going on inside when his teenage parent had been in the house. I say almost because there were dozens of directional microphones and powerful cameras aimed at us and Omega would have suborned the best ones, if not all of them. Still, he was almost fanatically concerned with Declan’s health and welfare. Which was more than a little worrisome on a whole bunch of levels.
“Unappreciated and scorned, huh?” Stacia pressed, frowning at him.
“I was acting, Stacia,” he said, frowning back, although his frown was flavored with worry.
“Oh really?” she asked, hands going to her hips, which pulled his eyes down briefly before they came back up, thoroughly confused. “Like I am right now?” she asked with a genuine smile. Then she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips before spinning around and moving over toward Tanya, Poppy, and Poppy’s parents.
He looked at me, confused.
“Just go with it, kid. I don’t think we’re ever supposed to understand,” I said, which earned me an over-the-shoulder glare from Stacia and a frown from Tanya.
“Mr. Gordon? I take it the entity has been dispersed?” a man in a dark suit asked me, approaching from the police lines. He had introduced himself as Trevor Holme from the Home Office. I know… Holme from Home. I had manfully ignored it when he met us at the airport and now I was just happy he was here to save me from my own mouth.
“It’s gone. I have some warding stones to give to the Bardens, but they should be fine,” I said.
“Ah, the famous Zuni fetishes, no doubt?” he asked in his very Oxford accent.
“You’ve heard of them?” I asked, uncomfortable with our notoriety.
“Whole dissertations have been written, argued, and defended about your fetishes,” he said.
Twenty feet away, Lydia’s face popped up with a knowing smirk and I knew it would be a long, long time before I was allowed to forget that unfortunate sentence.
Chapter 2
We were flying about 35,000 feet somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean when Omega spoke over the corporate jet’s speakers.
“I’ve found them.”
“Louanna and Dragan?” Declan asked, sitting up straighter in his seat next to Stacia. The rest of us mostly just looked confused.
“I am ninety-three percent certain they have just this moment taken over an adult entertainment establishment in Las Vegas, Nevada. I believe, based on audio data, that it is her and that she and her offspring have just violently overthrown the Painted Horse Gentlemen’s Club. It features scantily clad females dancing for male entertainment.”
“Thank you Omega, but we know what a gentlemen’s club is. Do you have any idea who the girl might be?” Tanya asked.
“I have been searching records for missing persons, particularly in the southern United States. Ten months and four days ago, a police report was filed in the Evangeline Parish Sheriff’s department near Ville Platte, Louisiana. Louanna Martel, age seventeen, was reported missing from her home by her paternal grandmother. The subsequent investigation concluded that she ran away from an unhappy home life with an unknown male, who was reputed to be a member of a motorcycle gang. No reference is made to the name of the gang.
“Louanna is sixty-two inches tall, approximately one hundred and eighteen pounds, with black hair and brown eyes. She has a dark complexion and has facial features generally representative of both African-American and Caucasian races. Here is her driver’s permit photo,” Omega said.
The cabin bulkhead-mounted monitor flashed on and filled with one of those government-issued photos that make everyone look like a serial killer. Although this one really was a serial killer.
“She’s pretty,” Nika noted.
“Beautiful really,” Stacia said before turning to look at Declan.
He was studying the photo, eyes narrowed and nodding in recognition. “Don’t be fooled. She’s a nasty, toxic Crafter who deals in death magic. Remember, this is a person who conceived a demon in utero, which means she had to banish the soul of her own child to make room for the demon,” he said.
“One who can smile and seem innocent and sweet, no doubt,” Lydia said.
I could feel Tanya’s outrage through our link, which was particularly strong because she was lying with her legs across my lap so I could massage them. So mad, she couldn’t quite speak.
A couch-sized mass of fur and muscle moved at our feet as Awasos smelled her anger. He raised his massive head and looked back at her before settling back down on his forepaws. The big corporate 747 can handle him in bear form, so it’s his favorite form of travel.
“She can pull the air from your lungs and will smile at you while you asphyxiate,” Declan said.
“It takes more than that to take us out,” Arkady rumbled.
Vampires can go for a very long time without air, ten minutes at the very least. And a vampire can get a lot done in ten minutes.
“Ten months? What? Did she get pregnant before running away with Loki’s Spawn?” Nika asked.
“The werewolf that Stacia captured, Karen Lyon, said the kid was only a couple of months old when we met him, but he looked like he was many years older,” Declan said.
“And he moved like… well, like nothing I’ve seen,” Stacia said. “I only caught a glimpse, as I had my own battles at the time, but it stuck with me.”
“Yeah, he didn’t move like the demon in Poppy, either. More like a vampire circus acrobat on speed,” Declan said. “So maybe her pregnancy was abnormally short too?”
“A simple regression would indicate the entity Dragan might age approximately two to three years per month. If the rate of growth in utero was similar, Louanna’s pregnancy may have only been a month in duration,” Omega said. “Of course, that is assuming his maturation rate is not accelerating.”
“So we need to get to Vegas and snuff this out as soon as possible. We don’t need that thing growing up,” I said.
“As it is, it’s been a month since the paper mill ba
ttle. He’s probably looking like a ten year old by now. Did you get any video, Omega?” Declan asked.
“The Painted Horse is well equipped with CCTV, but all entrance cameras failed at the approximate time Louanna entered the building.”
“Figures. She’s learned to handle cameras now,” Declan said.
“Or this Dragan has,” Lydia said.
“Omega, can you tell us what happened?” I asked.
“Approximately eighteen minutes ago, the camera system of the Painted Horse Club went offline. The club’s state of the art telephone system was in use by the reception desk at the time. One of my subprograms was monitoring calls in the Southwestern United States. It detected a female voice that matched my audio records from Fetter, Maine. She was speaking in the background during a call from a group of young men seeking to reserve a bachelor party at the facility.
“The voice requested an interview with the club owner and was directed by a receptionist to the owner’s assistant, who subsequently led the individual back to the corporate offices. The club’s phone lines seem to be in almost continuous use, which allowed me to monitor much of the situation. Two of the receptionists held a brief, derogatory conversation regarding the son of the woman who requested the interview. Some of the terms they used matched my father’s description, particularly with regard to his eyes. Eleven minutes and sixteen seconds later, the club’s principal owner, Aaron Rider, entered his personal office and confronted the owner of the voice. From the sounds generated, it is likely that his assistant died within the next twenty-two seconds. The subject voice then chanted in a mixture of French and Haitian Creole. Audio quality and pickup volume were too poor for a complete translation, but the gist of the chant was a petition to several deities in the Petro and Ghede loas of the voodoo religion. Additional comments by the speaker, who told Aaron Rider to call her Lou, indicated the dead assistant was successfully reanimated. She then gave Aaron Rider the option of dying or becoming her living servant. He chose to live. She then discussed changes to the club consistent with what was done to the paper mill in Fetter. She also named her son to Mr. Rider as Dragan.”
“Is she talking about her plans at the moment, Omega?” Tanya asked.
“No, Tanya. She went silent three minutes ago,” Omega said.
“Can you repeat what plans she did discuss?” Tanya asked.
Omega didn’t answer. My group exchanged glances, everyone finally looking to Declan for answers.
“Ah, Omega?” he asked.
“Sorry Father. I am monitoring a new situation… in Washington, D.C. Elements of the Secret Service have placed priority emergency calls for medical assistance at an apartment rented by one of President Garth’s closest supporters. The calls originated thirteen minutes ago. EMTs arrived on the scene four minutes ago and took over CPR from Secret Service personnel on a white male whose age and general description match the president. The patient has been loaded into an ambulance and is now en route to Bethesda Hospital.”
“Are you telling us the president is having a heart attack or something?” Lydia asked.
“Based on the code words they are using and the fact that ninety-percent of the protection detail is escorting the ambulance, I would say it is almost certain that the president has suffered a massive myocardial infarction and is currently not responding to treatment.”
“Whoa. So in the last few minutes, the witch turned up and Garth might be dying… talk about positive developments,” Lydia said. Everyone looked at her. “What? Don’t tell me anyone here is even slightly worried about that asshat of a President.”
“You speak the truth, Lydia. It’s one of the reasons I love you,” Tanya said.
“Well, she speaks the truth as best she can grasp, which is, admittedly, not a great deal,” Declan said.
“Oh damn,” Nika said softly as Lydia’s gaze swiveled to lock onto the foolhardy young witch.
Before all-out war could ensue, I jumped in. “Is there anything odd about Garth having a heart attack, Omega?”
“The White House physician filed a complete report on the president’s health two weeks ago, following a regular medical checkup. The report included the results of an annual stress test and blood screening for heart disease. The president passed with very strong numbers. Furthermore, I have accessed Secret Service records of all the protection team’s communications for the last three hours. It suggests that the president had an assignation with an unknown female at the apartment.”
“So he was having one of his infamous affairs but shouldn’t have had a heart attack while in the sack with the tart?” Lydia asked.
I don’t, for a moment, believe she’d forgotten Declan’s zinger, but at least she was focused elsewhere for the moment. I was pretty sure the kid was gonna catch hell.
“It is within the realm of possibility that he could suffer a myocardial infarction while engaged in coitus, but the odds were fairly low.”
“Is foul play suspected?” I asked.
“The remaining elements of the security detail have lost the young woman in question. She seems to have disappeared during the confusion. There is considerable ongoing chaos between the Service and the White House staff. Vice President Polner has been awakened and taken to the White House. It would appear that they are preparing for succession while simultaneously attempting to cover and mitigate the potential public relations damage,” Omega said.
“Lydia, get the business office on the line. We need to take some steps. The markets will tank at the open if Garth is really dead,” Tanya said.
Five minutes later, Omega announced that the President of the United States was pronounced dead on arrival to Bethesda Hospital. Vice President Vincent Polner was immediately sworn into office as the next president.
Word got out within minutes of the ambulance arriving at the hospital, and all the major news channels interrupted late, late night programming to follow the story. The new president addressed the media briefly from the White House Press Room.
Declan and Stacia fell asleep at about three in the morning and I drifted off not long after while the vampires stayed glued to the news and ensuing market madness.
The next thing I was aware of was Omega’s voice.
“There are two inbound aircraft that have not yet identified themselves approaching at Mach 1 from the United States eastern coast. Encrypted communications indicate they are Air Force F-16 fighters assigned to the Eastern Air Defense Sector.”
Chapter 3
I went from a fuzzy dream of sitting with Tanya on a beach under a full moon to full Grim-fueled awareness in a micro-instant. My senses expanded into a sphere that covered the ocean below and space above and just the hint of the two fighters at the furthest edge. I was a second away from calling Kirby when Omega spoke again.
“The fighters are unarmed, but their transmitted orders have tasked them with intercepting this aircraft and redirecting it to Joint Base Andrews in Washington, D.C. Their orders originated with President Polner.”
“You are certain they are unarmed?” Arkady asked.
“The aircraft are bereft of weapons although we should consider that the fighters themselves could be used as weapons,” Omega said.
“Why don’t we just play this out?” I suggested. Tanya nodded and pressed a button on the desktop she was sitting at.
“Captain Simkins here. How can I help you?” the pilot answered in her calm, professional voice.
“Captain, if you will check radar, I believe you will find two F-16 fighters approaching us from the west. When they hail us, please patch us in to the conversation,” Tanya said.
“Fighters ma’am? Oh… yes, you’re correct. Ah, we’ll just patch the audio… actually it’s already set up that way, ma’am. Not sure when that was done, though,” Captain Simkins replied, her tone still calm and even, but now with a note of resigned acceptance. Omega’s presence was being felt everywhere in the corporation, even though most employees still didn’t know of his existenc
e. If anything, it just added to the mystique of working for Tanya and company.
A minute later, the speaker woke up again, although this time it was a new voice.
“Attention Demidova corporate aircraft, N1031. This is Major Justin Malhotra, United States Air Force. We are redirecting your aircraft to a new destination. You will indicate compliance and acknowledge receipt of new flight plan.”
Declan and Stacia hopped up and went to opposite sides of the plane to look out the windows.
“Just hanging out on our flank,” Declan said, a touch of awe in his voice. The kid could probably explode the fighter with a thought but he was still impressed by the military impact of the high-tech plane.
