Live and Let Fly

by Karina Fabian

  There was a quick exchange of nods, and we were directed to a spot beside Charlie where a chair had been removed to make room for me. Charlie and Slick Shadow Stan both stood and went to pull out Grace's chair; Charlie was slightly closer, so Slick contented himself with taking her hand and introducing himself again. "I'm Rakness, Stan Rakness. Call me Rak," he said as he bowed over her wrist. He pronounced the Rak with a schwa so it sounded more like “rock.” Had to wonder if it was the actual pronunciation or an affectation.

  Once we settled, I leaned toward Charlie. "I'm an agent of BILE," I muttered.

  "Welcome to my life," he replied.

  Just for fun, I lashed out with my tail and pulled the donut box toward me. Charlie coughed to stifle his laugh. Grace took a glazed and waited attentively.

  Susan dimmed the lights, and the first slide showed up: THIS BRIEFING IS

  CLASSIFIED SECRET US/FEO.

  "Secret we're ugly?" I translated aloud. Charlie didn't bother to hide his snickers, nor did Rakness. Someone in the audience snorted. Mustache glowered, and Heffner just looked blank. I guessed that Mordash had heard it before, and Heffner didn't know enough Spanish to know what " feo" meant.

  "United States/Faerie Eyes Only," Agent Calloway clarified before continuing. "Two days ago, person or persons unknown accosted Charlie Wilmot, Herald of the Duchy of Peebles-on-Tweed..."

  Well, the briefing was high-tech, at least—if by that, you meant the latest version of Power Point. The slide split along the diagonal to reveal a scrolling timeline. 'Course, all the whiz-bang graphics couldn't make the small, crowded type any more legible. Fortunately, God had returned to me most of my keen eyesight.

  "Do I need to know this?" Grace murmured subvocally.

  "Don't worry; he's reading it verbatim."

  Next followed some photos of the scene, the report proving the blood Kelly found on the platform was Charlie's—no surprise there—and our own report that we'd picked up no traces of magic or even of another presence on the scene outside of the minute residue of a portal, along with our suspicion that the evidence suggested a magical heavyweight.

  At this point, the slide blossomed into "DragonEye, PI Input." The lights came on, and all eyes turned to us. I let Grace take the lead; too bad we didn't have time to make our own slideshow.

  "Portals like the one we suspect was opened on the set are very rare and require magic only a certain kind of being can manipulate—we refer to them as demigods."

  "Like Ra? Or someone further down the hierarchy like Baal?" Heffner asked.

  Bet he learned his Egyptian mythology from TV. Why haven’t they made a handbook yet? Why hadn’t I? I bumped it up on my To-Do list .

  "Either is a demigod in our classification. There is only one true God."

  "So why did He even create demigods?" Rakness, Stan Rakness asked.

  Grace gave him one of her "God is ineffable" smiles before saying, "For the most part, the demigods were not like the ancient gods of your universe. Many have been and still are wise and fine rulers. There have been those, of course, who wanted greater power, worship even, but we take care of them."

  Here was a crowd that understood what "take care of them" meant.

  "We?" Calloway asked.

  Grace nodded, "It's one of the missions of our Church's Inquisition. Vern and I have done duty with them."

  I watched as the way they looked at Grace changed. For some, their estimation of her abilities increased. Yeah. They'd better respect her. She's earned it. She's taken on some powerful nasties in the name of God; bigger baddies than they've ever seen, I'm sure. In fact, her last battle with Satan's minions had left her so damaged of mind and soul, she'd been a danger to others and herself for a long time. The opening of the Gap had been a special blessing to her, as her order sent her to the Mundane psychiatrists for treatment for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I wondered if these guys had her psychological records from Walter-Reed.

  Others, of course, heard the word "Inquisition" and drew conclusions based on your own world's past. I won't debate Mundane history—I wasn't there—but I can tell you our Inquisition had a somewhat broader and more combative role in battling evil and clearly identified enemies, as well. Without our Inquisition, there wouldn't be much of a human race now.

  She, of course, didn't notice the slight arching of eyebrows or straightening of backs that said they'd realized she was more than just a nun with an unusual job.

  She said, "Even in Faerie, such portals take a lot of energy to create, so they don't do it unless they have a great need. In our Great War, Quetzalcoatl used them to transport Inquisitors across the Americas.”

  "Wait!" Heffner said. "Quetzalcoatl worked for the Inquisition?"

  "The Spanish Inquisition, as a matter of fact."

  "Bet no one was expecting that," he muttered.

  I held back a grin. He may not know Spanish, but he did know Python. This might be an okay group after all, despite the name.

  Grace continued. "On this side, the only instance of a portal we've encountered was when Sekhmet opened one to smuggle pixies in for a gang war she'd started. She'd needed their deaths to increase her own power, a percentage of which she was using to fuel the portal. Her proximity to the Gap helped as well, and we're fairly certain she had a dragon stone for her focus."

  I ground my teeth. She'd also used a dragon stone to bribe me into helping her deliver the message that started the whole pixie turf war. We'd had to destroy it to close the portal and stop the war and her nefarious scheme. If I'd known she had another stone, I'd have found a way to pick her pockets before we banished her.

  "Do you think it's Sekhmet?" Mustache asked.

  I shook my head. "Not her modus operandi. She prefers tricking people to whacking them from behind."

  "There was a dragon stone in the ring, right?" Calloway asked.

  "Too small," Grace answered. "Imagine using a gem to focus a laser—the more energy you need, the bigger the stone, and portals take a lot of energy."

  "Did the portal originate on this side of the Gap as well?" Homeland Hefner leaned forward as he asked.

  Grace grimaced. "Yes—at least I'm ninety percent certain—but I couldn't tell where. By the time we arrived, there were the barest traces left. It'd be like catching a whiff of perfume in an open field and trying to determine which direction the bearer came from. I can tell you power was not drawn from the Gap. The Order of Our Lady of Miracles tracks that now. It was the first thing we checked."

  "It's not local, either," I added. "If the exit is a trace of perfume, the entry would smell like a smashed perfume counter. I flew a search pattern—there's nothing within a thirty-mile radius of the Gap."

  "So how else could he get power? Should we be looking for a mass murderer?"

  "Why bother?" Rakness countered. "Pick a war zone. Set up shop. Who'd know?"

  A couple of agents nodded, but Grace replied, "That's really Sekhmet's style, and I'm certain it's not her. Most prefer a more...personal...approach."

  "Human sacrifice, you mean?"

  Why'd people start looking at me? I never asked anyone to toss an untried adolescent outside the gates. I'd rather have a big juicy bovine anytime.

  Grace intervened before I said something nasty. "Human sacrifice is not as prevalent as you might expect. It does tend to draw the Church's attention, and we would come in and stop it."

  "But if they're on the Mundane side—"

  "We will come in and stop it," Grace reaffirmed.

  Before this could devolve into a different kind of argument, I said. "Your governments can duke it out with our Vatican lawyers after the fact. At any rate, sacrifice along with worship is certainly a powerful combination. Different demigods have different preferences, however.

  Sekhmet, death; Coyote, practical jokes and general mischief—"

  "Adonis?" Rak asked with a cocked eyebrow.

  Grace cocked her brow in return. "Crying over dead plants, actually. He has a special fondne
ss for women with black thumbs, but he's not powerful enough for a portal. He's really a very sweet soul. Plus, other than finding Chia Critters amusing, he's not especially interested in the Mundane world."

  "This is getting us nowhere." Mustache glowered. "How do we narrow this down?"

  "The Inquisition is already checking on the usual troublemakers. However, only four demigods have emigrated here at all: Coyote, Athena, Shiva, and Polyhymnia."

  I took up the conversation from there. "Coyote's done his usual low-scale trouble and is on parole in Montana; Athena's stressing over her genetics dissertation; Shiva's living it up as GNN's war correspondent; and Polyhymnia's president of the production company that's releasing the Live and Let Fly soundtrack. She's clean."

  Mustache's look said, "We'll check her anyway."

  I let it slide and went on. "Venus and Eros cross over quite a bit to check on their online matchmaking service but not lately. More likely, our demigod in question snuck over disguised as a common human. Not every superior being will stoop to such tricks."

  "Loki?" Rakness asked. "He likes tricks."

  Grace nodded, "And he was again imprisoned for his 'tricks' during the Great War. He'll be living out his punishment until the next Ragnarok."

  "Next?" Heffner sounded incredulous.

  I explained. "Ragnarok is essentially a world-changing event, an asteroid striking the earth, or an ice age…or the Great War. That's what happened the last time. When Satan had brought the war to a critical point, Loki got released. Once we caught him, Odin was only too glad to give him a new punishment until next time. It can't have been him. As for who else it could be, we asked around, but no one's noticed anything suspicious. If we could get the actual records of those who have crossed the Gap...?"

  "How far back?"

  Maybe I could work with these people, after all. "A year? Five? Demigods have a different time sense—they don’t mind taking a long time to plan." Plus, I knew of a couple of open cases we might have a chance at solving with that particular information; kind of a peace offering for Santry. Just because we didn't get along didn't mean I didn't want him on my side, after all.

  Mustache glanced at Susan, who made a note in her Blackberry. "In return, can you get us a list of probable names and profiles? Maybe things we should look for on this side?"

  "Cult activity?" Grace suggested. "But not like Waco. This would have to be bigger."

  Mustache nodded. "Calloway, look for any rise in cult-like activity in the past year.

  Doesn't have to be an ancient religion. If they're smart enough to sneak in, they're smart enough to use a fake faith—"

  I was getting bored with this conversation; besides, something else was bugging me.

  "How about we talk motive? Granted, Charlie is important in the Peebles-on-Tweed government, but the only things lost were a ring with more sentimental than villainous value and a list anyone can find on the Internet. What did Charlie carry that warranted the attention of a demigod and the United States Government? We’re in a nice, classified environment, so spill."

  I watched the exchange of glances with interest. So, the military knew, and Homeland Security knew, and Mordash knew, the FBI seemed to know something…but Charlie didn’t.

  That in itself didn’t surprise me; he often couriered items without knowing the contents, but the cat was out of the bag, so to speak. We needed to know what we were up against.

  “Look. Maybe it was safer for Charlie to be in the dark before, but I think knowledge is power at this point.” I pressed and was rewarded with guilty starts. Yet no one spoke. Guess no one wanted to be responsible for making the first admission.

  Charlie spoke up for the first time. "It was a new bag. Heavier, too." No, he wasn't lamenting his loss but turning that piece of information over in his mind.

  Something clicked. "So you had to cross the Gap at seven-thirty in the morning and then later at two-thirty and seven-thirty in the evening, and a couple of random times in the day?

  Benchmarks! They had sensing equipment sewn into your bag, Charlie. What kind of readings was it taking? Something to do with the Gap, obviously."

  Heffner blinked and just managed to keep his jaw from dropping. I gave him my “please-that-was-easy grin.”

  “Two twenty-eight, to be exact,” Charlie muttered, not impressed with my intellectual prowess, but he’s seen it before.

  "Actually, the sensing equipment is inside the Gap itself," Heffner said, as he clicked through to another slide—this one a schematic of the Singularity Quantum and Tau Sensors: SQATS. I tried not to wince. The actual picture resembled a tiny cartoon ATM with satellite dishes for ears being attacked by speech bubbles listing its features. At least it did look like it was squatting.

  "We're seeking a way to effectively close the Gap or block it off in times of emergency.

  Temporarily, preferably, and it should go without saying that both the United States and Peebles-on-Tweed have committed to complete sharing of information. However, I'm sure you can understand why the general populace would object to such studies. Further, as you know, there have been attempts to close or destroy the Gap; you yourself have stopped some of these, though—you'll pardon my saying—on a small scale. Imagine this information in the wrong hands. Nations. International terrorist organizations."

  Without even trying hard, I could rattle off a couple dozen countries that wouldn't mind.

  Since the "small bang" that caused the permanent interdimensional wormhole between our dimensions, countries on both sides have cried "Foul!" as much as "Where's my share?" Things have settled down on the Faerie side, thanks to the intervention of Pope Patrick Martin II.

  (Sometimes, it's convenient to be able to say, "It's the will of God," and have the world accept that.) The United Nations still gets into a shouting match about it every other session. Even within America, groups—from the Christian sects which fear the power of the "Papist dimension" to the neo-Nazis who hate anything that doesn't look, dress, or smell like them—

  wouldn’t mind closing the Gap and dealing with the refugees.

  Of course, there's another way to look at it, too: what could be used to destroy could also be used to create.

  Two twenty-eight p.m. Mountain Time, Mundane! The exact time of the nuclear explosion that created the energy our magic mixed with to rip a hole in space-time and create the Gap.

  Calloway took up the conversation. "Fortunately, your assailant acted too late. The information had already been retrieved by one of our agents and the memory in your bag's equipment wiped. So while we have a reprieve, we're nonetheless vested in discovering who these foreign agents are."

  We exchanged email addresses for sending information—though Mustache cringed at it going over an open line. Before we could leave, however, I said, "There's one important matter we haven't discussed yet. Our fee."

  Agents at various stages of standing stopped and stared. I met their gaze expectantly.

  Finally Mustache spoke. "Your Duke—"

  Charlie snorted, sparing me the trouble and letting me take the regal—or maybe it's the seneschal—approach. "Pays minimum wage to subcontractors such as ourselves. Fine if all we were doing was desk work, but we could be going up against some major magical heavyweights, perhaps even a STUC—”

  “Save the Universe Case,” Grace explained.

  “Those are extra,” I concluded.

  I watched as Mustache's body tensed, and I knew his hands were strangling the arms of his chair, torn between fury at my audacity and fear of my teeth. I curled my lips up just a bit to see what he'd do.

  Susan said, "But your universe has as much at stake as ours."

  "Actually, the Faerie have a little more c'est la vie attitude about the Gap. The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away and all that." I shrugged.

  Eyes turned imploringly to Sister Grace.

  "Our roof leaks terribly," she said.

  I added, "Let's not forget expenses. I feel medical bills in th
e making, and your insurance companies don't take mages and dragons. You telling me the U.S. government is too cheap to spare some petty cash to save the world? You toss it around enough any other time."

  Calloway rolled his eyes. Heffner slapped his chair. Mustache looked ready to explode.

  "I think we can take care of it," Rakness said as he reached around Charlie and took a donut from the box I was still protecting. Others took their cue and left.

  "So what's your role, anyway?" I asked Rakness. "I didn't hear Mordash give you any assignment."

  "I'm the field agent," he said, tearing a piece off the donut and popping it into his mouth.

  "Something needs a more...personal approach, they call me. I've never saved two universes before; could be fun." With a saucy wink, he snatched another donut and left.

  Five lonely donuts stared forlornly at me from the box. I offered Grace another glazed.

  Charlie took the jelly-filled. I ringed the other three on my thagomizer, and we let a giggling Susan lead us out.

  Once we were out in the sunshine, Charlie's faePhone went off. (Some things, Seneschal didn't skimp on.) The police had finished scouring his car, and Santry had deigned to release it on its own recognizance. We gave him a ride back to the station.

  "I can't believe you bought this," Charlie grumbled as he climbed into the passenger seat of our car.

  Even with the profit from the artifact sale, we hadn't had a lot of choices. We found the boxy foreign job at a scrapyard in Territory, where it was waiting to be put out of its misery after a semi took out its left side. Dave Casey, Charlie's trusted mechanic, had insisted that the working parts were in better shape than the exterior would suggest. A couple of thousand dollars worth of engine rebuild, new axles and wheels, and extensive bodywork later, we had what turned out to be a reliable, if ugly, machine. Of course, the two-tone effect was now multi-tone as we'd scavenged replacement parts from junkyards around the area, with ‘70s carpet green as the base, but with the seats pulled out in the back and a mattress tossed in for me, it made a comfy ride.