by John Conroe
Wait? What’s that you say, dear reader? That the new prez, you say, who is inarguably a truly righteous dude, is on their side, in what has to be the mother-effers of all plot twists? Yeah, that’s cool. But is it too little, too late?
I mean, so you single-handedly save the country from demons and plots and more demons and now a witch and demon werewolf. Oh, and you come up with treatments for untreatable diseases and save a bunch of kids at your own expense, flying them to other countries because your country, the one you saved over and over, is too tree-stump dumb to actually let you develop the most powerful medicine the world has ever known. But on top of that, you build a whole new computer that leaves the others all dragging in the dirt and offer to let the government use the thing, but no, they want to take the damned thing from you.
So tell me, how’s Europe looking now? You know, the place that rolls out the red carpet for you, the place where the pope, His Holiness, asks for your expert opinion on, well, you know, Angel stuff. The place where the people turn out in thousands to welcome you, where the governments have freaking passed laws to honor you and thank you for what you do. Did you watch that shit on TV? The adoring crowds, the mother who held her sickly child up to Tanya? I mean come on! Holding your baby up to the Queen of Vampires? What good could she have thought would come outta that? It’s not like the Night Angel can see your sick kid in the crowds of hundreds, not like she’ll come right over to the security line and hold your baby, not like she’s gonna hand you a business card whose phone number will absolutely change the direction of your life, except… well, she did.
Why the mother-loving Hell would they ever come back to America?
I miss them already. And where the hell is our scorching-hot white werewolf and her blue-eyed mage? I miss them too. Just hoping we don’t need them anytime soon, know what I’m saying?
Feel free to leave comments. Go on… comment… blow up the damned web. Gotta tell those asshats in DC how we really feel.
Chatterjee out.
#WeHadAngels #Steclanforcongress #GodHammertwins
Epilogue
The park was much quieter in the D.C. winter. One or two runners, but otherwise most of the walkers, stroller-pushers, and dog exercisers had found other venues for their energies. A couple of men in dark wool overcoats were the exception. That, and their idling security vehicles parked at the curb.
“Hey Nathan, Happy Holidays,” the first said, reaching a hand forward.
“Charlie, you too. I’ve got your family’s gifts right here. Too bad about Christmas this year, but hey, taking the family to Aruba for the big day isn’t exactly a hardship, eh?” Nathan asked, sliding a bag of wrapped gifts over.
“No sir. The kids are excited,” Charlie said, in turn handing Nathan a bag of his own. “Here’s a few things for you and Adine. Hey, speaking of kids, how’s your new dog… Brutus, is it?”
“Brutus is alright. Haven’t introduced him to the other dogs yet. A few issues but otherwise okay. The holidays will give him a break,” Nathan said.
“Issues getting along with the other dogs?” Charlie asked.
“Yes. The big dog needs to be there to keep the others in line, but he’s been at the vet’s,” Nathan said.
“Yeah, I’d heard that. How long do you think—at the vet’s?” Charlie asked.
“Not sure, maybe a month. Maybe two. Hard to say,” Nathan said.
“That’s gotta leave things with Brutus in the lurch, huh?” Charlie asked. “The big dog, he’s gonna be okay, you think?”
“I should think so. Tough, that one,” Nathan said.
“And Brutus? Will he ever settle in?” Charlie asked.
“It’ll take some handling and attention, but I think so. He has a tendency to annoy the other dogs, and they might punish him for it. But I think he will get along with the big one especially well.”
“But will Brutus ever turn on you? Is he loyal?” Charlie asked.
“Oh, he knows the hand that feeds him,” Nathan said.
“Well, okay then. You’ll just have to wait and see what happens when the big dog is back,” Charlie said. “I’ll probably see you at a briefing soon, but I wanted to take a moment and exchange gifts, what with our Aruba trip and all.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about being away. We’ll all pitch in and keep the president informed of all the important details. But it was nice to see you here and catch up. I wouldn’t want to bore the president with all this dog nonsense. He’s got enough on his plate.”
“Yeah, he might be distressed about the big dog. He seems to like that one. Probably best to have these little chats outside the office. Well, time to get to the grist mill,” Charlie said, standing up and picking up his bag of gifts.
Nathan stood as well and he, too, claimed the smaller collection of expensively wrapped gifts. Both men turned and walked back to their respective vehicles, their security details holding the doors of their cars open for them.
Somewhere else in DC, a work station in a municipal office suddenly lit up. A database search page opened under the header Canine Registrations and the name Nathan Stewart populated the space. The search ran. A second later, the response came back: No records found.
Immediately, on another world and on another continent on this world, two incredibly complex micro robotic devices simultaneously activated and took readings of their respective environments. One was on the shoulder of a tall young man, the other in the designer purse of a gorgeous young woman who was exchanging pleasantries with the leader of the Catholic Church. Finding no threats, both devices settled back but remained activated, monitoring—watching.
Author’s note: Thank you, yet again, for continuing to follow the Demon Accords. As you might have guessed, there’s lots more to come. Winterfall is next and we’ll just have to see where it takes us.
Thanks as always to Susan Gottfried and Ryan Bibby. See you in Rome… and Fairie.
JDC
