by Voss Foster
I'd been in my fair share of FBI offices in my time with the bureau. Other than Swift's dark, warm tones, they're all largely the same. Beige or gray walls, a utilitarian desk, a chair theoretically designed for lumbar support. If they'd been there a particularly long time, they might have a picture of a personal hero or two on the wall, or maybe some family photos, although plenty didn't risk it, just in case the wrong person got into their office and wanted to pay their kids a visit.
King's…wasn't that. I had a hard time seeing the original gray walls under everything hanging on them. One frame held a couple dozen ID cards and driver's licenses from different states. One was filled with all sorts of bright feathers. There was a short, wide rectangle that I was pretty sure had bones inside of it. And a hell of a lot of the frames had single sheets of paper in them, each with a signature on them somewhere.
It took me a couple minutes—and recognizing some familiar criminal faces on those ID cards—to realize what these were: they were King's trophies. Reminders of big cases, displayed out for everyone and their mother to see if they walked in. A lot more intimidating to a potential criminal than a photo of some famous guy, and a lot less dangerous than family photos.
King sat down behind her desk and jiggled her mouse. "Well get your asses in here and let's get to work."
"Sorry." I took one of the other chairs and Casey took the last one. "Not what I expected to see when I walked in."
King shrugged. "Not what anyone expects." One by one, she pulled on each of her fingers, popping the joints as she spoke. "So, what does that counterterrorism brain tell us about this that I haven't put together yet?"
"Not a damn thing. Did we get the reports back from Gutt and Bancroft on the capsule?"
King typed away at her keyboard, then shook her head. "They're not in the system, if we did."
I nodded and turned to Casey. "I know you're not a specialist or anything, but do all the reactions to the poison point to anything in particular?"
His eyes widened and he shook his head. "I have no idea. I can treat the symptoms and hopefully clean up after all's said and done."
We were getting a lot of nowhere fast at this point. And I still hadn't eaten. "Is anyone else absolutely starving?"
King nodded. "I have been ever since Casey treated us the first time."
"Same."
Casey nodded. "Going through regrowth uses up a lot of the body's stored nutrients. And you two regrew a lot of tissue. So it makes sense."
I guess that was logical. "So not a symptom that we can use to crack this case open?"
"I'm afraid not. But I can try to bring food, if that would help."
King shook her head. "Gutt'll bring it. I'm calling him. Bancroft won't stir at this hour, but if he finds out we're working, Gutt'll come."
I was ready to question her and tell her not to, but she was already on the phone…and honestly, if it meant we could maybe stop this, I was okay making Gutt sacrifice some sleep tonight.
"Gutt. Yes, it's me. Come in. We have some questions and we need a magical consult. I know it's off hours. Yeah, you're just taking off your shoes. And? Do you think the terrorists are taking time off? They're not. Yeah, bring food." King hung up and nodded curtly. "Won't take him long. Remote transport's a beautiful thing."
And sure enough, Gutt was there within ten minutes with a sack full of fast food. "You owe me for this, King. If I didn't hate these terrorists so much, I'd still be in my warm bed."
"Yeah, well let the flames of rage warm you instead." She took the bag and spread out the burgers and fries across the desk, and she didn't wait for politeness before diving on them. "We need to know what you know about the capsule that we found there."
"It could have waited until tomorrow."
"Oh you're right." King shrugged and grabbed a couple fries. "But since you're already here, what do you know?"
Gutt sighed and waved a massive hand through the air. A chair floated in through the door and positioned itself so he could sit. "It does appear to be a message, or at least some sort of writing beyond the magic, but likely one that should have been read before the capsule destroyed itself."
"Well can you give us anything?" King grabbed one of the cheeseburgers, set it next to her, then poised her fingers over the keyboard. "The clock's ticking and we don't know when it's going to go off next."
Gutt's face hardened and he nodded grimly. "The most obvious clue was a chunk of shrapnel with 'opila-perp-ansuz' on it. The runic equivalent to OPA."
Well shit. I grabbed for food just so I'd have something to do with my hands while that sank in. "I'm guessing opila-whatever doesn't do anything magical?"
"You could make pears grow on dead wood. But that hardly feels like the most likely scenario, given everything else that's been happening."
King tapped away at the keys. "So what did the sons of bitches want us to know?"
"I couldn't say with any surety." He grabbed a cheeseburger as well and bit half of it off in one chomp. "The runes were all rather tight together, which meant a fair amount of meaning was lost in the destruction of the capsule." He shook his head. "There were passages of the scourge of humanity, how Midgard was impure. Precisely the sorts of things one would expect. Sections spoke of decay. And there was one symbol that appeared over and over, but every instance Bancroft and I found was beyond precise recognition. I was going to have Kimmy try and reconstruct it in the morning. Her computer would do a much faster job."
I finally got some fries in my mouth, and even though they were cheap and salty and paled in comparison to the Julian's order I'd left sitting on my coffee table, they were the best thing I'd ever eaten. "You didn't recognize it? Even with books…and Bancroft?"
"If it had been complete, I'm certain it would have been child's play. But they were rather decimated." He finished off that burger and sighed. "But it must be important. It's clearly one of the vertically aligned runes, but it's not part of the three aettir that would normally be used in magic."
King unwrapped her burger and gestured with it as she spoke. "We have an internet connection and a long night. I say we get cracking."
It was a good hour with all four of us on phones and computers before we settled on a handful of obscure runes.
Gutt leaned over King's shoulder to read through them. "These all seem to be running across different futharks. Different iterations of Norse runes from over the years. But the magic it casts is certainly strange and not commonly known, so I suppose it shouldn't be easy." He rubbed his chin…and then he went pale. "No…it can't…but it must be…"
King snapped in front of his face. "Hey, we're not in your head. You have to pipe up on what you're seeing."
"It's…it could be almost any of these…but given the website and it's message of cleaning the world, wiping out the humans, I do believe it's narrowed in possibility." He sort of halfway staggered to his chair. His color was at least coming back, but he looked…off. Shaken. "I would prefer if Kimmy looked at this before we made any conclusions, but in the interest of full disclosure…I believe the rune in question is iar. And I believe in this context, it is meant to represent the serpent."
I nodded. "Serpent, poison. Okay, that seems logical."
Gutt nodded absentmindedly. "There are a multitude of serpents spread through Norse myth, and most do exist in one form or another. Nidhogg was vastly maligned in myth, never harmed a fly, let alone gnawing apart the very structure of existence. Just a wyrm of particular fame and recognition." He scrubbed a hand down his face. "But I believe the serpent alluded to by this iar is Jörmungandr. The Midgard Serpent. A harbinger of Ragnarok."
Ragnarok. Ragnarok even I knew. "You're talking about the apocalypse."
He nodded slowly. "More or less, yes. The specific events meant to take place are of course laid out. The ancient Norse had as specific an eschatology as anyone else. But I couldn't say for certain how much truth is in any of the human mythology. That's Bancroft's department. I do know that Jör
mungandr is very real and very dangerous."
"And what?" King sounded as solid as ever. If there was fear or worry or apprehension about the possible end of the fucking world, she wasn't showing a bit of it. "Does this mean they're trying to bring about Ragnarok?"
"Not necessarily. It could. It could not. What it does mean is that we're working with powerful magic. Jörmungandr is a Class A entity."
Finally, that struck a blow to King. Not much of one, but her eyes widened, and I swear I saw a tiny bit of color drain from her cheeks. "Class A? And the Kingdoms didn't notice?"
"It could be that it's not Jörmungandr. But if it is…then yes, they didn't notice."
The air was heavy and the room was silent…but I was out of the loop. "Class A is apparently bad. I'm new here, remember?"
Gutt nodded apologetically. "Of course, yes. It's a broad categorization of magical effect. A practitioner like myself is a Class C. I can certainly affect the world around me, but it requires effort and training on my part, and the scope of my abilities is limited. A Class B would be considered a prodigy. Capable of considerably more with considerably less time and effort. A natural talent."
"And Class A is more than that."
"Class A is likely the broadest of all. Very few normal preternaturals, for lack of a better word, would ever be considered Class A. Savants, perhaps. Mostly, they are creatures and entities beyond normal comprehension. Prehistoric entities. Perhaps even timeless. Beings so dangerous that their very existence warps and alters the natural world, or who otherwise pose an imminent threat to existence itself." He cracked his knuckles, no longer looking at me or anyone else while he spoke. "It takes powerful magic to seal and unseal a Class A, and almost all of them are sealed away for the protection of every other living being."
Shit. Double shit. "So…this could be bad."
"Yes. This could be the end of times."
Yeah. That was going in my "bad" folder.
When morning came around, the four of us were at the ready. Unfortunately, so was Swift, wearing a bulletproof vest and carrying a rifle. "
"I hope Casey's cleared the lot of you for duty. We've got an active sorceress at East Side High School."
Fuck. My spine stiffened. "That's where Oscar went." All the tension of the night before redirected from the poisonous snake to this attacker. I looked over at Casey. "Well?"
He nodded, blinking rapidly as he pulled himself out of his apparent stupor. "I don't see why you couldn’t go."
"Good. We need a solid marksman." Swift pushed an M4 into my hands. The entire body was etched with those swirling, smooth characters I'd seen on the Glocks last time. "This sorceress tries any funny business, you're our shot. And be careful. There's kids around. But I want her alive if at all possible."
"I'll see what I can do."
Gutt grabbed Casey by the shoulders. "Fill in Bancroft and Kimmy. Tell them to get on this."
And we were off to the armory to suit up. Swift glanced between the three of us. "Break in the case?"
Gutt shook his head. "Not yet. And not important. We have a sorceress to deal with. Then we can get to the root of this mess."
"All right. Don't die before you can fill me in."
We headed to the elevator and down to the parking garage. We were loading in, but I needed to clarify one thing before we got there. "One stipulation, Swift."
"Not the time to question my authority."
I ignored that. "She tries to kill a kid? I'm aiming between the eyes."
Swift met my eyes and nodded. "Fine by me."
Chapter Twelve
The school was on lockdown when we got there, and they were sickeningly good at it. All doors closed and locked, windows blacked out, not a damn peep to be heard from anywhere. Practice makes perfect, and these kids, these teachers, they had no choice but to practice.
Guess it came in handy this time, at least.
I'd been sent off with Gutt to the top floor. Everyone agreed it was the most likely location for our terroristic friend. Bottom floor was clear, and King and Swift were on the middle two floors, scouring for any clue or, I don't know, an actual terrorist. But the poison gas was so volatile, dropping it from the top point seemed like the best way to get maximum exposure. That was at least their plan at the apartment complex. And we had a few field agents scoping things out on the ground in case that poison came sprouting up again.
Sweat dripped down my nose inside the gas mask. We'd called in as soon as we heard, had them shut off the ventilation systems. Kept everything as secluded and separated as was possible, so the poison wouldn't move through the vents. Although the terrorists seemed able to control the direction of the gas, so it was probably largely worthless. But if we could buy even one or two extra seconds, it was worth it.
We still didn't have the magically protective gear, which meant we still had to be careful. All the more reason to take this sorceress alive. Quickly, before she could strike out or run away. Those clothes of hers could be the key to us surviving a little bit longer…until Ragnarok ended everything anyway.
Slowly, Gutt and I rounded a corner, guns leading the way. Since his magic seemed to just fizzle out against the last one, maybe the magical firearms would do the trick.
Gutt tossed out a tree-limb arm to stop me going any farther. As quietly as possible, so softly I could barely understand him, he said…he said just the worst damn thing. "Sorceress has a kid."
I locked eyes with him and nodded, and we both backed away so we could actually talk. The first thing I did was get on the walkie. "Swift, King. We found the sorceress. She's taken one of the kids hostage. Get up here now."
As soon as I was off, Gutt launched in. "We can't shoot. Not with magical guns. If we miss and hit the kid…it's bad news."
"It would be bad news either way. If I see a shot, I have to take it." Better a kid who needs to visit Casey than a kid who needs to visit the morgue.
"No." He was whispering, but…well, I was given a nice reminder that he was actually a giant scary-looking troll in that moment. "I've seen one of these bullets hit someone. That kid gets shot, her best outcome is double amputee."
I was ready to point out that double amputees were still better than dead, but Swift and King arrived, both surprisingly light of foot.
Swift nodded to both of us. "Just one hostage?"
Gutt nodded back. "Down this hallway. Just…waiting, like the last one."
It was odd. Why were they waiting? There had to be a good reason. It wasn't just for god damn dramatic flair. Especially not now that they knew we were on their asses. Not that I was complaining about the hesitation…but why?
Swift closed his eyes and drew a few deep breaths, then set into the orders. "Gutt, you take the lead. When you get an opening, magic dampening restraints. King and I will circle around to the other end of the hallway to cut him off. Dash, you don't take a shot unless that kid is out of the way."
I was a good shot. I'd do what needed doing if it came to it. It's not like I wanted to put this child at risk. "I'll only shoot if there's no other option."
Swift's gaze lingered on me a moment longer than I was totally comfortable with before he gestured to the hallway. "Let's move. Wait for my signal."
And so we reached the waiting. The itchy, uncomfortable, uncertain part of every outing. Even if it only took King and Swift a couple minutes to circle around and get to the other end of the hall, it stretched into eternity. I still hadn't seen the target, assessed the situation.
But when Swift's voice crackled in my ear, it was all a blur.
Gutt stepped out with a stack of those glowing magical rings in one palm. In the starkness of their light, I saw how fucking ugly that sorceress was. She made the last sorcerer look like the vision of health. Her skin was practically sloughing off her body, and she looked…wet. Like a corpse dredged out of the river.
The girl she had with her was crying, but her voice was muffled by the sorceress's hand. She looked to be maybe sixtee
n, dark hair in a ponytail. Blood smattered her face, though I couldn't say whose it was. And she locked eyes with me. Wide, fearful brown eyes that burned into me. My fingers tightened around the grip of the rifle.
This terrorist was a lot more talkative than the last one, launching in right away. "If you sacrifice yourselves, this child doesn't need to die. I won't offer any negotiations. That is the deal: this young life for the four of yours." She pointed over her shoulder. "Unless you thought I didn't know about the two agents sneaking so clumsily up behind me."
My spine stiffened. Gutt either didn't blink, or he was better at hiding it than I was. Years of facing off against magical sons of bitches would do that, I guess. "You let the child free, we don't shoot you between the eyes."
"You wouldn't." She tightened her hand over the girl's mouth. "You value the young more than you value killing me. That is where we differ."
Gutt nodded. "Agreed. But I would rather have a heart than be so ruthlessly efficient. That doesn't mean every agent here is the same. Are you willing to take that chance?"
"I will take the chance." The sorceress cackled. "Your threats are toothless. Living with the humans. Protecting the Mundane. They've castrated you." She whipped off her gas mask and tossed it aside. "I would sacrifice everything to rid the world of this plague. And so I will."
Gutt tossed his rings all at once. Most of them missed, but two struck the sorceress. One bound her legs together, and the other yanked her arm up and away from the girl.
We had her. We had her easily, and without firing a single shot. My heart still crashed against my ribcage, my whole body vibrated. There was nowhere for all of my adrenaline to go, but we had her. Gutt marched up, carrying more of those rings with him as he approached.
And then the sorceress grinned, and white smoke billowed out from between her teeth. She grinned into her death as her skin blackened.
The girl wasn't moving, and the poison was closing in. So I ran, tossing the rifle aside. I tackled her back, then dragged her to her feet. This poison, at least, was slow and seemed to lack direction and purpose. It gave me time to get the girl up and over to Swift and King, then swing back around. "Gutt!" I ripped my gas mask from my hip. "Get this on her face!"
