"Your breakfast," one of our captors walked into the room, set a plate of food on the floor and slid it toward us. They'd started this tactic the day before, when Norian almost gained the strength to change.
Until this mission, I'd never guessed he was a shapeshifter.
Many things made sense, now, but I couldn't dwell on those unraveled mysteries-I had to form a plan of escape, knowing that Norian would be able to escape with me. With a hand still chained to the wall, I gripped the edge of the plate and drew it toward me.
I'd studied shapeshifters when I was young-my father had seen to that. I understood their elevated metabolism. Norian needed most of what they'd given us; I intended to see that he got it.
* * *
It had become Morrett's duty to empty the slop bucket. He understood that going in after meals was the proper time to do so-he felt less afraid, then.
Only one of the men used the bucket; the one his masters had shot and beaten after he'd become a large snake and bitten two, killing them quickly. Morrett had no words to explain to Fisk that the other man-the one with deeper eyes and paler hair-didn't need the bucket.
Immortal whispered in Morrett's mind. He only knew that because he'd read it somewhere-his mother certainly hadn't taught him anything. His captors weren't immortal, however. Yes, they resembled what he could become when enraged, but the resemblance stopped there. Somewhere in the timeline, they may have been related.
Morrett wanted to claim no kinship with them. To him, they were cruel-as his mother had been cruel. He couldn't deny that when they changed to their other form, however, they greatly resembled his race, which could also change.
Morrett seldom changed-his mother had laid compulsion to never attack his masters; therefore, it wasn't worth the beating he'd receive if he did so. He had no idea where his mother was, but wherever she was, he cursed her.
Again.
* * *
Geethe Cheriss, Prime Potentate of Lyristolys
To: Outland Commander Fisk Boralus
Subject: Wymarr Belancour
There is no need to send the wizard back and forth; keep him there with you until this is finished. I have no immediate need of his services and your successful mission is now of utmost importance. I have had word that Deonus Wyyld is quietly searching for Keef; therefore, we must eliminate him very soon. Have Wymarr transport you and any equipment you need-send him back to me when this is finished.
* * *
Corinne
"This is where they were captured." Val's gaze settled on the wrecked duplex in Toronto. At first, I'd wondered why the owner hadn't bothered to check on the rental, but discovered he lived in the unit next door.
It was obvious he'd come to check on his renters when the noise started. He was now decidedly dead, his bloated corpse lying in a pile of rubble nearby.
That's where we stood, inside the rented side of the duplex, surveying the damage.
"Six days ago," Val surmised. "I have determined the level of decomposition in the body and translated it into local time."
"If Auggie didn't have his hands full already, I'd ask him to pass this on," I sighed. The landlord, a man in his early fifties, had been fit and in good health before the horde of Lyristolyi descended.
He'd died quickly, from a single weapon discharge.
"Ranos technology-in its infancy," Val explained. "There wouldn't have been anything left of the body with a pistol from current times. This weapon was quite old."
"Keef and Schaff put up a fight," I said. "They were better armed, at least."
"Yet outnumbered, unless I err in my guess," Val nodded. "I detect two deaths-from poisoning-Keef turned at the last. They must have wounded him badly to take him after that. I fear you were right, dearest; I also detect the interference of a wizard."
"So not all those holes in the wall were from a ranos pistol?" I asked.
"Here-see this one-Look, you will find no ranos burn-the residue it leaves behind. No, this blast was from a wizard's hands."
"And not a warlock?"
"Different methods," Val shrugged. "If we had time, I would return you to the places where the Elemaiya leveled blasts, then take you to the room where Ilya practiced, then allow you to compare both to these. We have not the time. I fear Keef's time is dwindling rapidly, and with a Sirenali to hide them and a wizard to transport the Lyristolyi from place to place, we may not find him soon enough."
I wanted to curse the Sirenali again, for keeping us in the dark as to where a rogue wizard could have transported the ones from this room. At least they'd taken their dead with them; I could barely look at the body on the floor without feeling ill.
"Do you think they're still in Canada?" I asked. "That they may have established a base here, since they can hide easily and get in and out with the wizard's help?"
"I believe Keef and Schaff thought they were getting close; why would they lease a temporary home otherwise?"
"Good question. I didn't understand it-not really. It doesn't make much sense."
"It makes me wonder if there were communications placed with Deonus Wyyld or with their agency regarding their decision," Val agreed. "I can contact Father about those things."
"Yeah. I think we should," I said. "This is awful." I pulled my eyes away from the dead man on the floor. I couldn't help comparing his death to that of hundreds of thousands across Europe-all caused by the same people.
"I must go, dearest, Father is calling," Val said. He disappeared almost immediately.
"Huh?" I stared at the space he'd occupied. "Damn," I muttered before transporting myself to Italy.
* * *
Sunlight on the snow surrounding their lodge almost blinded Finch. He took a moment to fumble in a pocket for his goggles. Two of his team had spent the night before and most of the current day out in the weather-they'd gone farther than they should have, looking for signs of others in the area.
He'd just gotten a garbled message on his radio, so he'd gone outside to get a better signal. "Finch here," he said. "Come in, rover."
"Rover here," came the answer. "We smelled smoke from a fire earlier. We're currently looking at a hidden cabin buried in the snow. Sundown in twenty, sir."
"Give me your coordinates," Finch snapped. "We'll be there soon. Remain undetected, do you hear me?"
"Yes, sir."
* * *
Ilya
After mindspeech with Corinne, the day crept by. Sundown was upon us, leaving roughly six hours before our planned attack. The usual knock sounded on my door, announcing the arrival of food.
At least we were being fed properly, if somewhat blandly.
"We're still on for tonight," the corporal informed me as the tray he carried was set down on a small table.
"I understand," I nodded. "Thank you." I tipped my head toward the tray.
"You're welcome, sir."
"Will you be coming with us, tonight?"
"That's the plan." He sounded excited. I made a mental note to attempt to protect his life, too. I doubted he had any idea what we would encounter when we arrived at Phillips' compound.
"I will see you then," I said.
"Yes, sir."
* * *
"There's no movement sir. Inside or outside that cabin," Finch's Lieutenant reported.
"Let me see." Finch took the binoculars to check for himself. "You're right-I don't see a thing, and the smoke isn't very thick. The fire may be dying. Do you suppose they've abandoned the site? Are you sure they didn't detect you?"
"No, sir. Nobody's left-before or after we arrived."
"Then let's go in and check it out. If this is where our bombers have been hiding, we'll know soon enough."
"Yes, sir. Who's guarding the perimeter, sir?"
"You come with me. You two," he pointed at two others, "stay back and watch for their return."
"Yes, sir."
"Come on, we have a cabin to search." Finch moved forward, his boots crunching softly in deep snow.
/>
* * *
"We don't have to change the original paint or wording, we merely have to remove what was added later." Fisk tapped the outer shell of a purloined missile. "We want to blame the original owners, not the more recent ones, after all."
Wymarr Belancour studied the missiles he'd whisked away from their hiding places-the newer paint was ridiculously easy to separate from the aging lettering of the original.
Two different languages-neither of which he could read. He cared not-his job paid quite well and allowed him comforts he'd never received in his brother's home-the same brother who'd kicked him out when the first notice was released by the ASD, telling everyone there was a bounty on his head for a few minor misdeeds.
Marid could fuck himself-Wymarr had done quite well on his own. Lifting his hands, he prepared a spell to remove the designated paint.
Nearby, and almost undetected, Morrett dropped to his knees and shuddered.
* * *
The moment Finch crossed the invisible perimeter, he knew it-for approximately two-thirds of a second, until the cabin exploded in a huge fireball, taking everything inside the perimeter with it.
From the hill above, two men were on the radio quickly, asking for help as debris rained about them.
* * *
Corinne
"Norian's dead. Schaff, too," Val said. He didn't conceal the weariness in his voice as he spoke after his arrival.
"I know. If I'd known to look for a window where the Sirenali wouldn't have been present to hide their location," I shivered.
"Dearest, you can't take blame for this," Val said. "Father worried that something like this would occur. I was meeting with him and Kalenegar when this tragedy happened."
"The worst part?" I looked up at Val, whose eyes were deeper and sadder than when I'd seen them last. "The worst part is that Finch set off the perimeter spell, causing everything to blow up. Courtesy of their wizard, no doubt."
"No doubt," Val agreed before sitting heavily beside me. "I understand only two of his team are still alive."
"I heard from Auggie shortly after it happened, but I already knew," I sighed. "I didn't want to go-word is there isn't much left to see."
"Yet the President is still insisting on sending Ilya and the others into that trap," Val muttered. "Word has not reached Deonus Wyyld, as yet. If he hears that Lyristolys is responsible for Keef's death, he will oust them from the Alliance."
"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.
"In some instances, it could prove to be quite detrimental to all involved. Lyristolyi tend to be a vindictive people-as you have witnessed. Without the Alliance laws to hold them in check, they can willfully cause much damage. Look at what they have accomplished here, with only a handful of their people."
"Good point," I mumbled. "Val, I feel numb. Like it's not real one minute, and that it shouldn't have happened the next. I don't know what to do, right now."
"That is an understandable reaction," he soothed. "When did you last feed? Come, I will take you elsewhere."
* * *
Ilya
The van we rode in dropped us off half a mile from the wall surrounding the estate. Agent Smith led us in; Brett, Jennifer and I, followed by four others. At least they'd given us weapons at the last; I worried that we'd be forced to go in unarmed.
We'd been provided body armor, too, but I was concerned it wouldn't help us against what we might meet inside Phillips' home. Getting over the wall went well enough; it was what came after that changed everything.
* * *
Captain Brett Walker
Smith had taken the lead, with Rafe right behind him. Jen and I came next, with Smith's agents following. Rafe should have been in the lead-I recall thinking that. He appeared to be better prepared and more knowledgeable than Smith, who took a circuitous route toward the house.
We'd almost arrived at the designated door when the impossible happened-Smith turned as if to signal the rest of us, but instead, he hit Rafe in the head with the butt of his gun.
Rafe fell, unconscious, while weapons were poked into Jen's and my back. "Keep quiet or we kill him," Smith snarled, jerking his head toward Rafe, who lay unmoving on the ground.
The door-the one we'd targeted, opened, and former President Phillips stood there, the light at his back, smiling at Smith as if he'd been expecting us all along.
Turns out, that's exactly how it was.
Our weapons were taken away and Jen and I were forced inside the house while Rafe was dragged in by two of Smith's agents.
"I don't want him damaged too much," Phillips chuckled as the agents dumped Rafe on the tiled floor of the kitchen. "I need him, after all."
Guns were still pointed at us-and at Rafe while he struggled back to consciousness. I witnessed something then that I never want to see again-when Rafe's eyes blinked open, and before he had time to do anything else, Phillips placed a command.
"From now on, you will only do what I say," he snapped.
I'm sure it was the wolf in me that detected the waves of power in that command-I doubted my previous human self would have recognized it.
Somehow, too, the wolf knew better than I did what to do. I turned in the kitchen and fought my way through it, getting two bullet wounds for my trouble.
Yes, I should have known better.
Whatever that power was that Phillips had, he turned it on Jen, next, ordering her to do the same thing. What came next defied logic and would have made me ill, if I'd been human.
* * *
Notes-Colonel Hunter
Matt and I sat at the bar in a restaurant not far from my office. He'd been the one to tell me that Granville had sent the team in early. Therefore, we'd chosen a public place to drink, imagining that we'd be called to account for our whereabouts at a later time-once word of the infiltration and attack on Phillips' estate got out.
As it surely would.
News of that explosion did come first-barely.
What followed left us both staring at the television screen mounted over the bar, where images were transmitted by Israeli and Saudi news crews of nuclear weapons destroying Iraq.
I found I couldn't move as we watched infrared cameras record high, massive plumes and mushroom clouds. Matt must have called my name a dozen times before I realized he was pulling on my arm to get me away from the bar.
"We have to get to the White House," he said when the roaring lessened in my head.
"Who?" I blinked at him, still in shock.
"They're going to blame this on the Russians," he hissed. "We may be next," he added. "Come on. We have to hurry." Tossing a large bill on the bar, he practically carried me away.
I didn't comprehend how Opal could be outside in a car, waiting for us to get in. The last I heard, she'd been in Europe earlier in the day.
"Buckle up," she instructed as the car peeled away from the curb. "I've contacted Cori-she and Val are on the way. Half of Iraq is gone-six bombs hit. That only put a dent in the stockpile, so who knows what may get hit, next."
"They're getting hit with the bombs-the ones given to them?" I asked. I'd squeezed myself into the back seat and now stared at the back of Opal's head as she wove her way through traffic toward the capitol.
Matt's cell phone rang. "On our way," he barked into it.
"Sir, there's a firefight going on at the Phillips estate," I heard clearly through the phone.
"No surprise," Matt said. "We'll be there soon." Opal hit the gas, forcing the car to lurch forward. Horns honked all about us that night-the night World War Three actually started.
* * *
Corinne
When Val and I arrived at Phillips' compound, half of it was destroyed and the other half was burning, the flames fed by an unnatural source and licking high into the sky. The roar of it joined the noise in my head, amid desperate attempts to reach Ilya in mindspeech, which were peppered with the images of a country hit by the very bombs they'd stockpiled to destroy others.
Exc
ept that's not how it would look when all was said and done.
Blame would be laid elsewhere-by design.
Treaties and agreements would be ignored or blatantly tossed aside, as fingers began to point. Ilya-there was no reply from him. That terrified me.
Those who'd taken the bombs away to drop them on unsuspecting targets would find more nuclear weapons and attack more countries. They wouldn't be forced to rebrand the next round of bombs in order to spread the lies of where the attack originated-it would already be written on the missiles themselves.
While some might be shot down-if they could see past the technology and wizardry concealing them-there were too many to be eradicated completely.
All this raced through my mind as we frantically searched for Ilya, Jen and Brett. Wherever they were, a Sirenali hid them from us-we couldn't find them anywhere by Looking. In desperation, I attempted to contact Jen. After all, Maye had mindspeech.
Still nothing. Forcing rising fear and panic down again, Val and I snuffed the flames of the fire. He cooled the heated remains well enough that we could walk among them. We scanned every inch of Phillips' compound that night, and found nothing. I feared we'd find bodies of those who'd gone in with Ilya.
There wasn't so much as a fingernail left behind.
Wherever Ilya was, he was either dead or incapacitated. He'd have answered me if he were conscious-or himself.
A terrible dread came over me, then.
Phillips was Sirenali.
What had he done?
Chapter 15
Corinne
Earth doesn't sleep after an event such as this. After the initial shock and silence ends, voices rise in a demand to know why. And, in this case, who.
At first, satellite images of the bombing sites were all anyone could see. Radiation levels were off the charts across Iraq; clouds of radioactive dust moved with the winds while surrounding cities and nations did what they could to prepare for its arrival.
Medical teams converged on the borders of Iraq, waiting for refugees to spill over as they ran from the bombsites. Images of dying children, carried by unidentifiable personnel dressed in white protective gear, became common.
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