Sons (Book 2)

by Scott V. Duff

  “Yes, Lord, thank you,” Shrank said as I pushed him into the van in New York. While I trusted Shrank to do his best, I was still very uneasy about sending him into this situation. He wasn’t helpless, though, and he could always escape to Gilán.

  “Mr. Davis, please see about my house, then see to disassociating the rest of your life from the Hilliards’ Grove completely,” I told him, pulling another diamond from the well in my room. “Take this and when you know something, hold it in your palm and call my name. We’ll talk through it. You only get one, so don’t lose it. Thomas will provide a place for you to work and stay for a time, until you can get on your feet again.

  “Everybody ready?” I asked.

  “On my way, Seth. Be careful,” Jimmy said worriedly, then shifted horizontally, bouncing off the veil to the New York hotel.

  “More to your liking?” Bishop asked Davis quietly.

  “Huh? What?” Davis said, confused.

  “They’re all business now,” Bishop said, grinning. “Is that more to your liking?”

  “We’ll call when we know anything, Seth,” Kieran said, then shifted with Ethan over to Gilán then over to my house in Alabama.

  “I’m honestly not sure,” Davis admitted as I wrapped portals around the five of us and moved us to the north end of the grove. Both Davis and Daphne were disconcerted by the move. “Frankly, they’re scarier this way.” Davis took Daphne’s hand and began consoling her.

  Chuckling quietly, I looked back across the valley. There were roughly five hundred men and women gathering in some sort of ceremonial grounds behind the building. They were grouped into three separate groups, mostly around two of them, and trying to cycle enough power to energize their circles, the Sacred Circles of the Nine, but they lacked too many key individuals, like their High Priest, whom they’d just banished needlessly. And the compulsion against blood rites didn’t help them at all.

  I was glad to show them my back for the day. “Miss Munis, it’s been quite lovely meeting you,” I said as we headed up the alley. “And I terribly sorry that our presence was so horribly disruptive.”

  “Th-thank you, Mr. McClure,” Daphne squeaked. “Um, what happened, anyway?”

  “The Hilliards got caught doing something very bad and now they’re paying the price for it,” I said. “So now they’re going to be grumpy for a few days.”

  “How did we get here from the office?” she asked.

  “Ah, well, Mr. Davis will explain that,” I said as we came to the sidewalk on Deighton Street. “Peter and I have to get to Washington now. Thomas, we’ll see you tomorrow, at least. Have a good day, everyone.” Then Peter and I moved to the US.

  Chapter 51

  Funny thing about people, individually, they’re terribly nosy, wanting to know every dirty little secret about their neighbors, their family, celebrities, whomever is in the spotlight at that moment. Get them in a crowd together and they become horribly disinterested in each other and everything around them. That’s why skipping the car worked on the highway so well. Most of the time, drivers weren’t paying attention anyway.

  Pete and I came out on the sidewalk to the Pentagon pushing the “Look Away” spell ahead of us, but it only had to operate on a few people, mostly the security staff. I placed a glamour on us to hide the bright blue and emerald green of our working clothes behind the dull beige of Army uniforms while I fished Thorn’s card from my wallet.

  “I never liked officers’ uniforms,” Peter commented.

  “Not sexy enough for you?” I asked, finally finding the card and freeing it from my rapidly growing collection of business cards.

  “Exactly,” he answered grinning. “Non-coms and field uniforms always seemed more… masculine to me. These are so plain, so… beige.”

  I grinned wider, chuckling while I dialed Thorn’s office number.

  “Special Services Liaison Offices, Sgt. McNeely speaking,” a female answered the phone politely. “How can I help you?”

  “Hello, Sgt. McNeely, this is Seth McClure. May I speak with either Lt. Hanson or Cpt. Thorn, please?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but both Lt. Hanson and Cpt. Thorn are in meetings at the moment and cannot be disturbed,” McNeely said. “May I take a message and have them return your call tomorrow?”

  “Excuse me, but are you telling me that both of my liaisons are unavailable to me?” I asked her.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I am not at liberty to discuss the nature of their positions over the phone,” she said, trying to be diplomatic. “Their jobs in the Pentagon are highly classified. Would you care to leave a message?”

  “Certainly,” I said. “You can tell them ‘We are not amused’.” I hung up and tried the second number on the card.

  “Thorn,” Cpt. Thorn answered on the third ring.

  “Cpt. Thorn, this is Seth McClure. May I have a few words?” I asked.

  “Certainly, sir,” he said pleasantly. “Can this be done over the phone, or would you like to come into the office?”

  “Your office would be better. This is a sensitive matter, I’m afraid,” I said.

  “How soon can you get here?” he asked.

  “I would have to know where your office is to answer that question,” I said.

  “Oh,” he said, chuckling. “We’re actually just two doors down from Gen. Harmond’s offices.”

  “To the left or right?”

  “Right.”

  “Be there in thirty seconds,” I said and hung up. “What’s up with that?”

  “Poke a hole and see,” Peter said. So I did, right outside Harmond’s office door and moving it down the hall. Painted on the glass were the words “Special Services Liaison,” just like McNeely quoted. Jumping through the door, I saw Hanson and Thorn coming out of what appeared to be a conference room, veering off to the left into the lobby. Darius Fuller darted out, saying, “I don’t know why you’re rushing me out. He’ll know I was here and ask me about it.”

  “Humor me, please,” Marshall Harris squeaked as gruffly as he could sound. Fast on Fuller’s heels, he was shoving an old Fedora on his head and pulling on an overly large, leather overcoat.

  “This could be fun,” I said to Peter, grabbing a hold on his arm. Then I wrapped us both in one big portal and dropped us quietly into the room.

  “I won’t lie to him,” Darius said turning on Harris and slowing him down.

  “Good to hear, I suppose,” I said to the room. “Good morning, everyone.”

  “Good morning, Mr. McClure, it’s good to see you again,” Cpt. Thorn said smiling as he stepped forward to shake my hand.

  “Is it, captain? It would seem we’ve interrupted something we weren’t supposed to see,” I said coyly. “Second time today. Let’s hope it doesn’t end as poorly as the first.”

  “Trouble at home?” Darius asked, moving into my view of Harris’ path to the door out.

  “No, in London,” I said, moving left slightly to keep Harris in my periphery and forcing them to dance around more.

  “Real estate is such a chore,” Peter commented, jumping portals to all the doorways in the room and peering through the other side. “We’re in the haggling stage now and finding trustworthy proxies is extraordinarily difficult.” His last jump was the door Harris was running for. Collision was imminent until Peter whirled around to me with a huge smile and a devilish twinkle in his eyes. “Look, Seth, they have a connecting hallway to General Harmond’s offices.”

  Harris jumped a step right to veer around Peter then left again to make the doorway, but misjudged and clipped the side with his shoulder. Severely off-balance, he spun and tangled his feet in his overcoat, stumbling. He landed in a heap, loudly thumping to the ground. Peter and I burst into laughter as Hanson rushed to help him, only to be cut off when Peter slammed the door shut.

  “A little early in the morning for drinking, but I’ve judged enough today,” I said, causing Peter to snicker.

  “I sense a story behind that statemen
t,” Darius said, eyebrows raised in question.

  Shrugging, I said, “Not much to tell, really, I just stood around and talked a lot. Peter, Kieran, and Ethan did all of the work.”

  Peter snickered again. “Hugely satisfying, I’m not sure you could call that work.”

  “You’ll find out more tomorrow, I’m sure,” I told him. “Assuming you are planning to attend Bishop’s security conference. He said that you’d confirmed with him.”

  “Yes, I will,” he assured me. “Sean badgered me into letting him come, too. We’re shopping for new schools and he’s found one in England he wants to look at.”

  “You’re joking,” Peter said, still grinning. “Like you’re gonna let him go to school in England? Where’d he get that foolish an idea?”

  “From his idiot father,” Darius answered, frowning quickly. “Hopefully he’s just testing me, but I did say ‘anywhere he wanted.’ I’ll play along for now. We’re having some fun with it anyway.”

  “Sounds about as much fun as house shopping to me,” I said, laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry, Darius. I’ve had a rotten day already and it doesn’t look to be getting any better. Especially with the vermin scurrying around with the people I’m supposed to trust.”

  “Yes, sir, I understand some of your difficulties with Marshal Harris,” Cpt. Thorn began, “That’s why he’s here. Col. Barnett ordered him to explain to us the entirety of his relationship with you. We need to be as informed as possible. No disrespect to you was intended, but this was necessary information.”

  “We made the mistake of trusting him once too often,” Peter said, sidling in beside me. “It’s made us less likely to trust the government in general.”

  Thorn glanced at Hanson and said, “We are not Marshal Harris, Mr. McClure, and trust is earned, not given.”

  “True, Cpt. Thorn,” I said, staring at him neutrally. “But the Pentagon’s first attempt at a relationship ended with us on the business end of assault rifles along with four hundred and fifty other people. I’d say you are on the earning side, not me.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Darius said softly, turning to Thorn slightly. “Makes me wonder what else I haven’t been told.”

  “Glass houses, Darius,” I said. “Still, you haven’t given us enough reason to trust, so let’s move on, shall we?”

  “Yes, sir, what can we do for you?” Thorn asked, still confidently in the lead.

  “We found a picture this morning of a person that resembles Margaret Pierce in a very disturbing place,” I said. “Rather than accuse her of something without proof, we’d like to as much information about her as possible.”

  “Are you suggesting a connection to the conspiracy we’re investigating?” Hanson asked, speaking for the first time.

  “I am suggesting a reason to investigate Cpt. Pierce, Lt. Hanson,” I said.

  “There is nothing in Pierce’s personnel record that would incriminate her in any way,” Thorn said carefully.

  “Perhaps you can let us judge that, especially since you don’t know what to look for,” I said, remaining carefully neutral in tone. Both Peter and Darius watched us like a tennis match now, a very bland one.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr. McClure,” Thorn answered apologetically. “That’s against the law. Unfortunately—”

  “Did you just say ‘against the law’ to us?” Peter asked in total disbelief. “Because there’s been nothing about any interaction between us where you’ve acted within the law, Captain, so that’s a lousy excuse.” Peter was a little edgy from the morning still.

  Thorn cringed. “I can’t answer to previous actions, Mr. Borland, only my own. You wanted honest and ethical people in this position, Mr. McClure. Don’t chastise us now for acting in that manner.”

  “We have a different interpretation of honest and ethical, apparently,” I answered, canting my head. “But if you wish to hide behind laws and rules as you have stated, I will abide by your decision with the understanding that you recognize this is an Accorded situation.”

  “Ooohhh, I will not presume to advise you here,” Darius told Thorn, holding up both hands and backing away quickly.

  “What do you mean by ‘Accorded’ and why is Mr. Fuller afraid of the word?” Thorn asked suspiciously.

  “Darius holds a greater understanding of the Accords of the Unseelie than you do and is rightly cautious,” I said. “I don’t have the interest to inquire how it’s managed right now, but the Pentagon signed the Accords as an ‘Entity’ in 1951. This doesn’t do much for you except provide a political unit to interact within the other political units of the magical worlds. As a non-magical unit, the only rules in effect for you are the Rules of Hospitality. I trust you know what those are?”

  “Um, to some extent,” Thorn said swallowing slightly and shifting his footing once. I didn’t feel particularly good about winning the ‘cool’ battle, though. “What I was taught was a matter of manners and courtesy.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you know?” Darius asked, plopping down on the couch beside the door out. “Thank God I backed out when I did! Damn, you’ve pissed off a Lord of Faery on a point of Hospitality. Seamus’ should be required reading for all the M-class, at the least, because of that.”

  “And what is ‘Seamus’?” Thorn asked.

  “The standard primer for the Rules of Hospitality in most English-speaking educational system,” Darius said.

  “Was Seward aware of that text?” I asked, curious about Darius’ own previous problem with the Rules.

  “Yes, but Seward didn’t expect Sean to fire so I believe I seriously overestimated his intelligence,” Darius said, smiling. I couldn’t help but smile, too, the first honest reaction to anything I’d given in a few minutes.

  “We’ll find a copy and begin reading it as soon as possible,” Thorn said.

  “Better hurry,” Peter said, scowling. “Your time is running out on a breach.”

  “As in minutes,” I added. “And it won’t be pretty if you lose.”

  “Why? What have I done?” Thorn asked defensively.

  “Another beauty of the Accords is that I don’t have to explain,” I said. “Once agreed, it is presumed that you know the rules. However, since you’re so obviously ignorant, I’ll lead you down that primrose path just this once. You’ve incurred a debt from me, a favor, and you’ve made that debt in the form of possibly the most detrimental way available. And now, you aren’t letting me explore the situation. That looks highly suspect, Cpt. Thorn.”

  “But that wasn’t me,” he said, again defensively.

  “Who it was doesn’t matter,” Darius said. “It was the Pentagon as an entity that matters, not you or Lt. Hanson, specifically. You can only claim individuality at the Accorded levels, say a master-class magician or a council member. Not that I am advising you.” He gave Thorn a grim smile then.

  “Since this is a dead-end, we must pursue other avenues of information,” I said neutrally again. “Good day, gentlemen, and Cpt. Thorn, for your sake, hope that we are incorrect. The penalty for such a failure is rather extreme.” I wrapped Peter and me in portals and jumped us outside their office door, returning our bland military glamour. I started searching for empty rooms while we slowly headed for the exit.

  “Well, that was useless,” Peter complained. “Wonder what bee got into Thorn’s bonnet.”

  “My guess would be the mysterious Mr. Dominick,” I answered. “Last time, everybody was looking to him for permission to fart, so he’s got to be somebody important to them. I may have to be more forgiving of myself and look more deeply into the people I run across, just to save time.”

  “Seth, you don’t mean that,” Peter said, warning me.

  “No,” I agreed, frustrated. I stopped as a man exited an office behind us. Peter turned and stopped with me. “I’m just irritated at Thorn and Hanson, is all. Care for a little espionage?”

  “Doesn’t that break the Rules?” Peter asked coyly.

  “We w
ere invited in,” I retorted. “So it only counts if we get caught.” I jumped us into the office just vacated by the man behind us, a colonel in charge of some kind of relief system for international bases. As long as his computer system tied into the mainframes, we didn’t care what he actually did. Using the Stone’s power, I sealed the room with a pressure lock that safely placed us beyond detection of everyone. As far as anyone could tell, the room was still unoccupied.

  I took the secretary’s desk and Peter took the colonel’s. We were both silent for about fifteen minutes, except for the sound of rapid typing from both of us. Thorn was right. There was nothing in Pierce’s military record to show even the slightest hint of a problem. Multiple commendations from her commanding officers for superb performance, excellent ratings on all her continuing education classes, her caseload success ratio was amazing. On paper, or rather in pixels, Cpt. Pierce was a model officer.

  “Shit!” Peter exclaimed. “Seth, I’ve got something.”

  Logging off and wiping the screen, I darted into the colonel’s office. On Peter’s screen was a Google search window, not a Pentagon screen. He’d jumped the firewall. The cursor hung over a hyperlink dated eleven years ago. He tabbed over to another window and showed me a dating website.

  “This is from a defunct site archived on Google now,” he explained. “Seems she got dumped too many times in her sophomore year of college and decided to join the computer revolution a bit late in life. Joined a dating service a few months before joining the ROTC, where she met her husband of nine years. This was her profile.” He clicked the mouse on her name. Once her profile lit the page, I saw immediately what the problem was: our Margaret Pierce and this Margaret Pierce weren’t the same person.

  Little Brother, Kieran called, Pierce is not who she says she is. Ethan has found pictures from her husband on-line that show a completely different person.

  “Yes, Kieran, Peter has found something similar just now,” I said, repeating it through the link he created. Jimmy was with them now. “First is there now. They’re about to go in with the counselor. I’ll intercept her there. Thanks for the help.”