Secret Treaties (The Valens Legacy Book 9)

by Jan Stryvant

  Sean smiled. "How do you know I did it? Perhaps they were just messing around with something beyond their abilities, like they had been doing up in Eugene a couple of days before?"

  Sean noticed Kane's eyebrows dip momentarily, apparently they didn't know about that one.

  "We have it from reliable sources that you are responsible for the act, Mr. Valens. Would you deny it?"

  "Please, call me Sean. Before I answer that question, do you know what the Gradatim did prior to that explosion?"

  "I fail to see..." Norman started.

  "Do You?" Sean growled, interrupting him as he leaned forward.

  "That has no..."

  "Over a thousand, a thousand lycans were murdered, Marshals Kane and Page. Murdered on the orders of one Rupert Spencer and agreed to by all of the leaders of the Council of Gradatim.

  "Where was the government response to that?" Sean demanded.

  Both Frank and Norman flinched at that. They'd heard about it, it had been part of the briefing notes.

  Frank shook his head. "That still doesn't give you the right to set off nuclear weapons or to kill hundreds of people!"

  "Welcome to the war, gentlemen. Because it does, and yes, I did it. Now sit your asses down and tell me why, after two hundred and fifty years of neglect, the government of the United States has finally decided to get involved."

  "You're under arrest for the detonation of a nuclear device within the continental United States, and the murder of hundreds of men, women, and children!" Norman said.

  Sean sighed. "You can't arrest me for their murder. I'm a magic user, and by marriage a member of the Council of Sapientia. By the Treaty of York, all crimes committed between magic users are, by legal definition, not within the jurisdiction of the United States of America, or its many territories or possessions."

  Frank and Norman looked at each other and, grumbling, they both sat down.

  "You're still coming with us," Norman said.

  "No, I'm not going anywhere. You still have no idea just who or what you're dealing with."

  "You're the one who doesn't know," Norman retorted. "We represent the government of the United States. You're just a punk kid with delusions of grandeur."

  "Well, then, why don't you make me?" Sean said, scowling at them.

  Norman pulled out a wand and hit Sean with a cramping spell, which went nowhere of course, while Frank used one with a greater sleep spell in it.

  "Girls, don't," Sean said, holding up his hand. Daelyn had Maxwell in her hand, and he couldn't see what Cali had, as she was behind him, but he was sure it didn't bode well for the two marshals.

  "Guess that didn't work, did it?" Sean said, looking at the agents.

  "We have silver bullets!" Frank warned.

  "Silver won't affect me. Didn't they tell you that?"

  "Huh?"

  Sean held out a hand. "Give me one, I'll show you."

  Sean watched as Frank pulled out his pistol, worked the action, then handed Sean a bullet.

  Sean closed his hand around it; he noticed it had quite a few spells layered into it, as well. All of which came apart as the silver turned into rhodium.

  "Sorry about the spells," Sean said as he handed the bullet back. "But it couldn't be helped."

  Frank looked at the bullet and then passed it to Norman.

  "Now," Sean shifted into his lion hybrid form and looked down at the two marshals, who blinked and leaned back just a little. "I am not some 'punk' kid, I'm a lion. And I would hardly declare someone who has solved the silver issue for lycans, as well as being able to cast spells that mimic the effect of a nuclear bomb, as suffering from delusions of grandeur. Would you?"

  "All the same, we're bringing you in," Norman said.

  Sean sighed and looked up at the ceiling for a moment.

  'Dad? I don't want to hurt these idiots, much less kill them.'

  'I got it.'

  "I have a much better idea," the First said, taking over from Sean.

  "And that would be?" Frank asked a little warily.

  "You tell your president that I would be more than happy to meet with him. Here, in Reno."

  "Why would our President want to meet with you!" Norman laughed.

  "Because I'm a god," the First said with a smile, and suddenly the room was filled with lions. "And you two most definitely are not."

  The walls disappeared then, and they were sitting on the side of the mountain Sean recognized from all of his dreams. All of the lions were there, and they were all sitting up and looking at them.

  "This is an illusion! It can't be!" Norman said, looking around.

  "Now, this is how it's going to be," the First said, staring them down. "You are going to go back and tell your bosses that I'm willing to talk to them, I'm even willing to treat with them, but I will not bend my knee to them.

  "Nor do I expect them to do so to me, for all that I am a god. Because I am not your god. I am the god of the lycans. So if they want to talk, they can come here, I'll await their pleasure. But understand one thing," the First growled the last sentence.

  "What?" Frank asked.

  "We do not want a war with anybody. The magic users pushed us into this; if not for their actions, none of us would be sitting here today. Either you keep ignoring us, as you have for centuries, or you befriend us. I would strongly advise against making us your enemies."

  Frank coughed and looked around the table and chairs, which now appeared to be sitting on a small level area on the side of a mountain. "Actually, the President has approached the courts to rule that the lycans are not covered as property under the Treaty of York."

  Sean sat back in his seat as both he and the First showed their surprise.

  "I thought you were a god?" Norman grumbled.

  "Of lycans, not humans. I hope this means he wants to be friends." And just like that, they were back in the room.

  "Now if you'll excuse us, Gentlemen, my wives are with child, and I doubt the stress of this meeting has done them any good."

  Sean stood up and walked towards the door.

  "Wait!" Frank called.

  "What?"

  "The guys outside haven't been read in on you."

  "Oh! Sorry," Sean said and shifted back, as did Roxy. "Of course, that mass sleep you tried to use on me, I deflected, and it hit everyone in the building, so you might have to go and wake them all up."

  Frank shook his head and watched as they all left the room.

  "Have you ever seen an illusion like that before?" Frank said, turning to look at Norman.

  "It wasn't an illusion," Norman said, looking at the dandelion in his hand, which he then handed to Frank. "It wasn't an illusion at all."

  Frank shook his head and sighed. "I think we just got owned."

  "I think you're right. And I think he's right, we really don't know what we're dealing with."

  "Let's get back to the airport; I think we need to talk to some people back in D.C."

  Sean looked at the girls as they walked back to Daelyn's 'Cuda. "Well, that went well, don't you think?"

  "You know, you've only encouraged them to come back bigger the next time." Roxy sighed.

  "Maybe you should send them a message?" Cali asked with a smile. "A nice, friendly message, one that tells them something happy while showing them that it would be better to talk than to fight."

  "I don't know, Cali." Daelyn chuckled. "The kinds of messages you like to send just might scare the hell outta' them!"

  "Besides, what could we possibly say that would be friendly?" Roxy asked. "I think they're pretty fixated on the whole 'nuclear bomb' issue."

  "Well, didn't they say the President was taking our side on the slavery issue?" Cali pointed out.

  "You know," Sean mused for a moment, "Cali does have a point." Sean gave her a hug as Cali beamed. "We really should thank him for doing that."

  "And just what did you have in mind?" Roxy asked.

  "Oh, I was thinking a card, something nice, not too che
ap, kinda classy."

  "Even if you sent it overnight, he'd probably never see it." Roxy sighed.

  "I was thinking more along the lines of leaving it on his desk." Sean grinned.

  "What? We ain't got no recall stones for the White House!" Daelyn retorted.

  "I was thinking of asking Markey if he'd do it for us," Sean said, grinning.

  "Markey? Why the hell would he do that?"

  "Because it would be funny?" Sean replied, still grinning.

  Daelyn snorted, and Roxy snickered.

  "You know, you just might have a point there, Lion-boy."

  Friends?

  "Carl! I need to see you in my office! Right now!" Kensington yelled out into the room, then went back inside his office, where a very harried-looking agent was standing.

  "What's wrong, Vincent?"

  "That's what's wrong," Kensington said and pointed to a nice-looking white card on his desk that said 'Thank you' on it in flowing gold script.

  "All right if I touch it?" Carl asked.

  "We've already dusted it for prints," the haggard-looking agent said.

  Nodding, Carl picked it up and looked at it.

  "Oh, Carl Mince, Head of Lycan Affairs," Carl said to the agent.

  "Jeff Turnbull, Presidential Security detail."

  Carl looked inside the card. Inside it said, 'Thank you for taking our side in this!' and was signed 'Sean Valens, on behalf of all lions'.

  "Well, we know who sent it at least, where was it?"

  "The President found it on his desk this morning," Turnbull said.

  "Wow, that's ballsy. Anybody see anything?"

  "Nothing."

  "What about the security cameras?"

  "The President doesn't allow any in the Oval Office."

  "Really?" Carl said, looking at Turnbull.

  "It just suddenly appeared. It was small enough that the guard on watch didn't even notice it. We had to run back through the tape."

  "What do you make of it, Carl?" Kensington asked.

  "How did Sean find out about the President taking the lycans' side? That's what I want to know," Carl said.

  "That is a good question, isn't it?" Kensington agreed.

  Carl grinned suddenly. "The U.S. Marshal's office got spanked yesterday, didn't they?"

  "I've heard a few rumors," Kensington admitted, "but nothing official yet."

  "The president isn't sure what to make of this," Turnbull said. "He'd like your expert opinion."

  Carl shrugged. "Let me call him and ask."

  "Who, the President?"

  Carl shook his head. "Valens. He knows there's going to be a response, hell, he's begging for it. I'd say he's none too pleased by what happened yesterday, so he's reaching out." Carl looked at his boss. "Okay?"

  Kensington thought about it a moment, then nodded. "You're the expert. Call him up, see what he wants, smooth over any ruffled feathers if you have to. Oh! And see if you can't find out how he did it; protecting the president is our main job. If he figured out a way to get past all the wards over there, someone a lot less friendly might figure it out, too."

  Carl nodded. "I'll make sure he tells me how he did it."

  Sean yawned and rolled over in bed. Roxy was pressed up against him now and was smiling at him. It was early yet, and it had been hours since he'd...

  Just then the phone rang in the kitchen.

  "Who the hell calls at six in the morning," Sean grumbled as he heard the sound of running feet coming down the hallway, followed by a tap on the door.

  "Come in," he growled.

  Dania padded into the room on bare feet and handed him the cordless phone.

  "It's something called the 'Secret Service'?"

  Sean sighed and, grabbing the phone, he waved Dania out of the room as he sat up in bed, and Roxy grumbled something about 'time zones'.

  "This is Sean," Sean said with a yawn.

  "Hi! I'm Carl Mince, Head of Lycan Affairs with the Secret Service."

  "You guys have a Lycan Affairs office?" Sean asked and yawned again.

  "Well, we do now!" Carl said with a chuckle. "Gotta thank you for that, Sean. Got me a promotion."

  "Glad I could help. You know it's six in the morning here, right?"

  "Yup, and I even know just where 'here' is. I have a sister that lives down in Carson City."

  "So, why the call?"

  "Really? You have to ask? Come on, Sean, I know you're better than that."

  "Eh, lions and mornings don't get along, unless of course we're doing something a lot more fun than talking on the phone. So I take it my card was a hit?"

  "Oh, I think the President really appreciates the sentiment, he's been getting grief from more than a few people for getting involved in this. Though I gotta ask, what prompted you to send him a card?"

  "Why, I just wanted to thank him, that's all," Sean said. "I was worried if I sent it by the usual channels, some flunky might intercept it, and then the President would never know just how deeply we appreciate his concern, as well as his actions."

  "Oh, so it wasn't because another government agency decided to piss you off, and you thought maybe it might be a good idea to go over their heads?"

  Sean looked at the phone, then at Roxy, who was snickering. Shaking his head, he put the phone back to his ear. "Well, now that you mention it, something like that did happen yesterday."

  "How badly did you spank 'em?"

  "Huh?"

  "Sean, I got money riding on this. Everyone else thought you'd send 'em back in a body bag or something, but I've been reading your blog, the Facebook page, all of it! I know that's not your style."

  "I took them to an alternate reality, after inviting them to take their best shots with their wands. Then I all but patted them on the head and sent them home."

  Carl laughed. "Thanks! Free lunch, here I come!"

  "You actually bet on me?" Sean said, the surprise evident in his voice.

  "Sean, the Secret Service has been dealing with the magic users since we were formed. The whole slavery issue was never big with us; we came out of the Civil War, more or less. So we've all been quietly rooting for you. Yeah, the LA thing, that was a bit over the top and got some folks who don't know the score worried. Please don't do that again, by the way. Call us first; we'll deal with it for you."

  "Seriously?" Sean sat up straight, wide-awake now. Even the First had woken up when he heard that.

  "The President is pretty hard over on this one, Sean. If the court doesn't rule his way, I think he's going to push it through Congress, and well, I'm not sure anyone wants the attention that'll bring. But the point is, it separates you from the silence, so it becomes murder."

  "Damn, I hadn't thought about that."

  "I didn't expect you would, you didn't even know about it until those Marshals let the cat out of the bag, right?"

  "Dude, it's too early for puns," Sean grumbled.

  "Sorry," Carl laughed, "I'll let you get back to bed in a minute, hopefully they'll let me come out next time so we can chat over a couple of beers instead of playing games."

  Sean nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'd like that."

  "Oh! One last thing!"

  "Hmm?"

  "Please tell me how you got that card onto the President's desk, okay? The White House is supposed to be warded against all that kinda stuff, and while I'm not worried about you, I am worried that one of our enemies might figure it out, and well, protecting the President is kinda our first priority."

  Sean had to smirk at that. "Well, seeing as you're being nice about it, you have a ward against spirits of bad fortune, but not ones of good fortune. Seeing as this was not intended as an expression of ill will, more of a joke really, they were more than happy to deliver it for me."

  "Are we talking Celtic spirits?" Carl asked cautiously.

  "Ummm…" Sean wasn't sure how to respond to that.

  "You got a pooka? Holy shit! Man, now I definitely gotta get out there, even if I have to use personal ti
me! Thanks, Sean! Give my regards to your wives! Bye!"

  Sean turned the phone off and tossed it onto the floor.

  "Normally I'd comment on just how strange a phone call that was, but these days I think my life is defined by strange," Sean said, rolling over and grabbing Roxy.

  "Well, now that you're awake, how about me and you time?" Roxy purred.

  "I'm next!" Jolene giggled.

  "You're all next," Sean said as he kissed Roxy. "I think I've earned a late morning."

  #

  "Yes Ma'am, I can take you and your friends there right away!"

  "Excuse me, Sir, but I think you dropped this?"

  "Hi! I'm your new bus driver, George called in sick today, but don't worry, I'm sure he'll be back tomorrow!"

  "Here's your coffee, Sir! Phillip? Oh, Phillip is off today, family issues I think? I work at the uptown shop normally, have a good day!"

  Chad looked up as they carried in another unconscious magic user. Between the gas and the potions Burke Devin had helped him find, they'd met with very little resistance so far today, and out of the thirty-five hundred or so magic users and their families John had isolated, they'd already picked up two hundred, and it was barely past noon.

  "Damn, they're coming in faster than I thought," Max said, coming over to him. "I got the guys working full bore back there, building more holding cells. I don't know how we're going to deal with them once they start waking up."

  "I had Trey buy out a couple of the BDSM shops on the west side. We have enough hoods, gags, and handcuffs to deal with an army. If anyone acts up too badly, we'll just dart 'em and keep them sedated. I don't think they're going to be here all that long."

  "What about scrying?"

  "One of Burke's people put a scrying ward over the whole place."

  Ray came in then. "Guess what?" he asked, smiling.

  "You got somebody important?"

  "Hell yeah! Chachi's idea of taking over the Starbucks is working like a charm. We picked off three people from that Saad Council's leadership, plus a dozen mid-level mages. Apparently it's a popular spot for them, so we've been dosing them and picking them up when no one's looking."

  "You know, if this keeps up, we're going to run out of room," Max said.