by John Conroe
“Ah, would I be correct in surmising that the technology in question is more paranormal than not?” Ian Smitwick asked before Cryor could explode.
“You would be exactly correct, Ian,” Tanya said. “A combination of old knowledge with new to block a digital enemy that can’t be stopped by the current state of the art in cybersec. And before you have an aneurism, Dustin, that includes your technology. We have one of your protected netbooks that Chet has been looking over, and it was suborned as rapidly as any other computer in the place.”
“I’m guessing then that not all your interns come from name-recognition institutions?” Ian asked.
“Again, you are correct,” Tanya said. “We will explain all of this, but we need some additional time to lock down our current advantage, which is tenuous.”
“I, for one, will be dying to hear all about these new discoveries,” Dieter Bernhard said with only a trace of accent.
“And hear about it you will. Again, we will need to make sure your personal systems are all protected first, though,” Tanya said.
“I’m not even getting a signal on my Android,” Dieter noted, frowning at his phone.
Katrina tapped my leg with one finger, then tilted her tablet so that I could read the message on the screen, which said it was from Tanya.
Is that our wards blocking his phone?
I nodded to Katrina and her fingers flew in swift answer.
“And you won’t unless we let up on the protections we’ve put in place,” Tanya said, looking up from her own tablet.
Smitwick poured himself a glass of water from the bottle of Evian that each of them had at their places, glancing up to catch me watching him. He raised one eyebrow slightly at me and then sipped his water.
He knows about me… or guesses, somehow, I thought. Katrina tapped my leg again and showed me the sentence that she had herself typed for my view.
Smitwick is crazy sharp at observing his surroundings… it’s his vamp power.
I nodded my understanding to her and returned my attention to the main drama.
“You are doing us a great disservice by not telling us at least the name and origin of this malware,” Dustin said.
“It may seem that way, but in actuality, we’re doing you a huge service in not telling you. See, the enemy is the software… an autonomous program that has left its cage and is out of its handler’s grasp,” Chris said.
“That’s absurd. Nobody has anything that advanced. I would know,” Dustin said.
“They do—or at least they did, and this software tends to protect itself, which is why you haven’t heard about it,” Chris said.
“Can we go back to the part about mixing old knowledge with new?” the professor, Pitcairn, asked. “Can we at least hear a bit more about that?”
“I can tell you that it’s right up your alley, Wade,” Chris said.
“Are you talking about Crafting? You have a practitioner on staff?” Pitcairn asked.
“We do,” Chris said.
“Crafting? What the hell is that? What’s a practitioner?” Cryor demanded.
“He’s talking about an individual who can mold reality to her or his wishes,” Smitwick said. “The terms you might apply to such an individual are wizard, sorcerer, or witch.”
“You’ve never been partial to Crafters?” Brock asked, looking specifically at Chris.
“There are always exceptions, Brock,” Chris said.
“Does this have to do with that joint education project with the government’s Oracle group?” Galina asked. “That was a rather expensive line item, if I recall.”
“One that has obviously borne fruit if it has resulted in the resumption of profit generation,” Smitwick said.
“Hold on. You’re saying you have a Harry Potter or Hermione Granger on staff, that you recruited him or her from some kind of Hogworts that we’ve been funding and he or she wrote a new computer language?” Cryor asked, half-exasperated and half-incredulous.
“Essentially accurate, if a bit heavy on the pop culture,” Tanya said.
“When can I meet her?” Pitcairn asked.
“Her? How do you know it’s a female?” Brock asked.
“I, too, desire to meet this individual,” Smitwick said, glancing my way.
“Despite all the fiction, the best practitioners of the Craft are the witch families, and magic appears to be stronger in females,” Pitcairn said to Brock.
He knows nothing of strength, Sorrow said. I was intrigued that Pitairn knew as much about witches as he did.
“We’ll tell you more when your phones and tablets have been protected,” Chris said.
“How soon can that be done?” Pitcairn asked.
“If you want to stay after the meeting, we will see what we can do,” Tanya said after exchanging a look with Chris.
“Can you at least tell me what family or country she’s descended from?” Pitcairn asked.
Again, there was an exchange of looks and then Chris spoke. “The Irwins of Ireland.”
Pitcairn sucked a breath, eyes widening. “Really? Fascinating,” he said.
“I was going to guess Ireland,” Smitwick said. “The features are rather self-evident.”
“What do you mean? Have you already met her?” Pitcairn asked.
“No Wade. I just pay great attention to my environment is all,” Smitwick said, then turned to look straight at me.
Brock turned to see where Smitwick was looking and found me immediately. His nostrils flared and he nodded to himself. The others turned and looked around the seated crowd, Pitcairn looking right past me.
Tanya sighed. “Thank you, Ian, for preempting our secret,” she said sarcastically.
“Oh heavens. If you wanted him secret, you knew better than to bring him in here and, besides, you’ve already indicated that this room is protected from the enemy’s surveillance,” Smitwick said, completely unconcerned.
“Him?” Pitcairn asked.
“Declan, would you please stand up?” Chris asked, looking as exasperated as Tanya.
Katrina poked me when I didn’t move quick enough, leaving me rubbing my side as I stood in place.
“Meet Declan O’Carroll—sophomore at College Arcane, computer science major, creator of the Wytchwar Games, and our ace card,” Chris said.
“But he’s a he?” Pitcairn sputtered.
“Excellent observation, old boy,” Smitwick said.
“His mother was Maeve Irwin, if that means anything to you, Wade,” Chris said.
Pitcairn sucked in another sharp breath and looked at me with surprised eyes.
“None of this means anything to me,” Cryor said, studying me like I was a mildly disgusting bug.
“Ahh,” Brock said, at which Pitcairn’s head snapped around.
“You know who Maeve Irwin is… was?” the professor asked the werewolf.
“No, but I’ve heard a lot about this young man from one of my pa…people. She’s mentioned you, young man,” Brock said, the first to speak directly to me.
“She enjoys beating me up and calling it teaching,” I said, noticing that he stopped himself from saying the word pack. The whole room was watching me, and I didn’t much care for it.
“Thank you, Declan,” Tanya said. “There will be time to talk to Declan after we conclude the meeting. Now perhaps we can call on Dr. Singh for an update on our biotech endeavors?”
I sat down and listened as Singh started to speak about successful drug trials in India and Thailand with tumor reductions and outright eradication of cancerous cells. The meeting resumed, but Pitcairn kept stealing glances at me and Smitwick just met my eyes and raised one eyebrow sardonically before looking to his tablet.
All in all, my first exposure to a board-level meeting in a major company was enlightening. Somehow, I hadn’t anticipated how much personality wrangling Tanya and Chris would have to do to run their company. What else was this summer going to teach me?
Chapter 15 - Chris
&nbs
p; Smitwick and Pitcairn were grilling Declan while he worked on board member cell phones and tablets, as Brock listened in and Cryor prowled around the edges of the conversation. Rescue seemed in order.
“He’ll be all right for a few minutes more,” Tanya said, coming up behind me. Galina was with her. “In the meantime, Mother has offered to use some of her connections to get us information on the NSA programmers that created Anvil.”
“What’s the use of helping birth a country if you don’t end up with some serious leverage in the process?” Galina asked.
We may have split from the main Coven and formed the Demidova Corp, but the ties of family are strong and vampire relationships are formed from spider silk crossed with Kevlar. They may stretch and twist, but completely breaking them is difficult. Galina had appeared back in New York not long after Tanya had stopped talking to Elder Senka. That she was a plant was obvious, but she had been generous with her resources and advice, and she was, after all, Tanya’s mother.
“You must be careful, Mother. Anvil is dangerous,” Tanya said.
“I shall be circumspect in my questioning, and I take it that your pet witch can secure my technology,” Galina said.
“He’s not our pet witch, Mother,” Tanya answered. “He’s very much his own person.”
“One with supremely valuable skills. You should bind him to you,” Galina said.
“I would rather earn his trust then try to enslave him,” I said, beginning to feel annoyed with my vampire mother-in-law. “But thank you for digging up that information.”
“Nonsense. It’s just a few judicious inquiries. But as to the boy, if he’s as useful as you say, you must lock him to your service. Relying on trust and honor will leave you betrayed and broken. High ideals have no place in either the business world or the Darkkin world,” Galina said.
Six months ago, I would have argued it out with her, but time had taught me better uses of my energy. Teaching an old vamp new tricks was a loser’s game. Instead, I left her to her daughter while I moved forward to protect my intern.
“Mother, you did that on purpose. You know how he feels,” Tanya admonished as I moved away.
“Bah. You’ll learn. You’ll both learn if you live as long as I have,” Galina said behind me.
“Ah, but you forget… I did learn… at the same time you did. I experienced all that you did over those years,” Tanya answered, referring to the lessons she had absorbed during her multi-century gestation period.
“Maybe so, dear one, but you failed to take those experiences to heart,” was her mother’s answer as I left their conversation behind me and picked up on the one in front of me.
“But you must have some idea why you fall so far outside the bell curve for males?” Pitcairn was asking Declan.
“I have a theory, but it’s not one I will talk about,” Declan said with uncharacteristic firmness. Uh oh; their pressing was getting to him.
“Declan’s theories are his own, along with his spellcraft and family secrets,” I said, causing them all to turn to me.
“Of course they are,” Smitwick said smoothly, turning to Declan. “Excuse our fervor, young man. Professor Pitcairn and I share a rather sordid fascination with the occult. To find such an accomplished practitioner of the Craft in our back garden, as it were, is both a bit of a shock and an irresistible temptation.”
Wade looked mildly crazed, but he caught Smitwick’s elegantly raised eyebrow and reined himself in.
“My apologies, Declan. Ian is right. The pursuit of knowledge gets the best of my common sense at times,” Wade said.
“I understand, sir. My professors at college have much the same passion,” Declan said. “It’s what makes them good teachers.”
Brock, who was watching the whole byplay, nodded slightly, either in agreement or approval. I was looking forward to hearing his observations about our intern, privately.
“What I don’t understand is how this magic or whatever can be written into code?” Cryor interjected.
“There are theories that magic is really quantum mechanics harnessed by the human mind,” Declan said.
“How can a brain harness particle physics?” Cryor asked, his tone still incredulous.
“How can observation affect a beam of electrons?” Declan asked.
Cryor pulled back, surprised, then his expression turned thoughtful.
“What are you talking about?” Brock asked.
“One of the more fantastic premises about quantum theory is that the very act of observing an experiment changes the experiment. It’s been shown that a beam of electrons changes if it’s observed as opposed to when it is not observed,” Wade Pitcairn said.
“Really? That’s rather bizarre, isn’t it?” Brock asked.
“So you’re saying that your ability to alter the physical world is change on a quantum level affected by your brain?” Cryor asked Declan.
“Essentially,” Declan said.
“So anyone could do it,” Cryor said.
“It seems that everyone has some degree of effect on the quantum world, but it varies greatly. Most people can observe a double-slit experiment and change its outcome. Some people can drive under a street lights and have them blink off for no known reason. Others, like some of my classmates, can observe things happening hundreds of miles away with just their minds, or read minds for that matter, or move a pencil. And then you have witches who can do even more,” Declan said.
“And speaking of witches who can do more, I need to snag Declan. We have some vehicles to ward,” I said, seeing my opportunity.
“Nice to meet all of you. Work calls and the whipmaster is here,” Declan said ruefully. I could tell he was happy about the interruption, his body already moving toward the exit.
“Hah, a pleasure to meet you, young man,” Ian said.
“Maybe you could spare Declan for lunch sometime, Chris?” Wade asked. “I really want to hear more about your college and if they’re hiring.”
I stopped and twisted around to see if he was serious. He wasn’t grinning, laughing, or sweating with a fever. “It’s a tiny institution that farms out its students to established colleges for most of their curricular needs, Wade. It isn’t in your pay grade,” I said.
“But it is apparently chock full of truly gifted occult students. I’d give my left arm for that experience. Who knows, maybe we could arrange a visiting scholar type situation. See how it works out,” Wade said, getting more excited. “What do you think, Declan? Could you see me there?”
Declan, his expression wary, took his time answering. “I don’t know what or how you teach, sir, but if you’re on this board, then you must come highly recommended. But how do you get along with young werewolves?”
Wade smiled, then realized Declan was serious. Now his jaw dropped open. “You have werewolves among the student population?”
“About a third of the students are weres, most of which are wolves. They can be a bit of a handful,” Declan said.
Wade looked from my intern to me and then to Brock, who just arched one eyebrow in amusement.
“How is discipline maintained, Declan?” Brock asked, as Wade was still speechless.
“Well, most of the time Delwood, the class Alpha, keeps them in line. Mr. Jenks, who is also a werewolf, kinda keeps Delwood grounded, as does Gina Velasquez, the director of the school,” Declan. “But they have mercurial tempers and you have to be a bit… judicious with them.”
“Do they bully any of the students?” Brock asked.
“Well, Delwood started in on me, but we came to an arrangement,” Declan said.
“What was that?” Brock asked, fascinated.
“He leaves me alone and doesn’t get out of hand with any of the other kids and I don’t burn him to ash,” Declan said with a small smile.
Brock’s eyebrows went up and he looked to me for confirmation of Declan’s seemingly bold statement.
“He’s not kidding. They had some real scrapes and then Delwood dis
covered what a pissed-off witch can do. But you’re now friends, aren’t you?” I asked.
“Of a sort. We respect each other; we like to compete with against other. He’s not just a muscle-bound idiot but actually rather intelligent when he decides to be, and he’s learned that I’m not a skinny geek. Well, actually I am, but I’m not a pushover skinny geek.”
“Fascinating. We have to have lunch soon,” Wade said.
