“Probably a better idea than talking about me like I’m not here,” Jennie replied. “Man, you specters are up your own arses, aren’t you? Thinking you’re the only ones around here who can hear you.”
Tobias’ mouth fell open. “You’ve found one?”
Baxter considered this. “More like she found me. That’s why we’re here. You told me the other day that you’ve seen other humans who can communicate with specters. Can you tell us where?”
Tobias sat back in his chair, processing this information. He studied Jennie’s body.
“Hey, numbnuts. My eyes are up here,” Jennie told him sharply, causing his spectral cheeks to color.
Jennie rolled her eyes. “Even in the afterlife, all men are the same.”
Tobias chuckled. “I like her.”
Baxter grinned. “Me too.”
Worthington scoffed. “The charm fades after a while, I assure you.”
Tobias fixed Jennie with dark eyes. “I don’t know how much help I can be, other than to say that, yeah, I saw another person like you. A small fellow with a fucked-up face and a hood to try to hide it. I thought he was one of us at first until I saw the other humans talking to him. Gathered in a circle, they were, in the dark, muttering shit I couldn’t quite make out.”
“Was there anything…unifying about them?” Jennie asked.
“Unifying?” Tobias repeated.
Jennie nodded. “You know, like anything that could identify them from a distance?”
Tobias thought a moment. “Not that I can think of. It was dark, and if they had anything, it would have been under their black robes.”
“So, how do you know this man can communicate with spirits?” Worthington asked, intrigued. “From what I can tell, we’ve got a bunch of cult followers muttering the words of the Dark Lord and gathering in the darkness. That’s nothing unusual.”
Tobias met Worthington’s eyes. “Because he had his own specter following him like an obedient lapdog.” He grinned. “You know what I mean?”
“A lapdog?” Worthington exclaimed. “If you don’t watch your mouth, I’ll make sure—”
“Where did you see these men?” Jennie asked quickly, eager to shut Worthington’s mouth.
Tobias spoke to Jennie but stared at Worthington with an amused smirk. “Central Park. They were skirting the edges. Looked like they were trying to find something.”
Jennie nodded. “Perfect.” She spun on her heel and left without another word.
Worthington followed, leaving Baxter and Tobias flummoxed behind them. Jennie had never been one for frivolities, and as Worthington was eager to point out, they had a job to do.
While Worthington wove through the other specters, Jennie simply walked through them all. Over the years, she had become accustomed to the sensation of passing through their bodies and become numb to the feeling.
As the door was in sight, a gruff voice called to Jennie, “You got somewhere to be, darling? You seem to be in an awful hurry.”
Several specters appeared before her, thick with muscle and eyes in which the pupils had dilated so wide that the entire eye was black. A woman who looked like she might once have been a powerlifter blocked her path and folded her arms.
“I am,” Jennie replied, ducking her head and expecting to pass through the specters, only to find they had materialized enough to become physical.
“That’s a fancy trick,” Jennie told them. “You do realize that the more physical you become, the easier it is for me to kick your ass?”
The specters laughed. “You really think that you, a mortal, can hurt us?” the woman asked. “Come off it, darling.”
Baxter ran up behind Jennie and Worthington. “What seems to be the problem here?”
“The problem is that this is supposed to be a neutral zone, and you have bought in scum from the Winter Court to infect our party. You really think no one would notice Lord Pompous there with his tree of a hat and bright red jacket?” She spat on the floor. “Winter Court bastards. And don’t even get me started on the human.”
While the woman spoke, Jennie saw Eva’s head poking around the corner, an expression of guilt on her face.
“The Winter Court?” Worthington snorted. “The Win— Madame, you best be careful of how you address the servants of the queen’s court. I’ve heard some nonsense in my day, but this…”
Jennie felt her fuse grow short. The Winter Court was a nickname that those against the rule of the crown had adopted since Victoria had taken over the paranormal court. Unfortunately, that hadn’t been because of the court’s resemblance to the fabled Faerie Court that had circled Wikipedia and the internet since Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files first launched in the year 2000, but rather due to the frosty and chilly atmosphere some had claimed had fallen over the spectral world since the queen had taken her throne.
Any mention of such blasphemy angered Jennie, a faithful servant of the court for over a hundred years. “You’ve got about ten seconds to get out of my way before you force me to do something I’m not likely to regret.”
“Oh, really? And what could a mortal possibly do to hurt a specter?” The woman scoffed, much to the delight of the men standing behind her. “You going to exorcise us and send us into the great beyond?”
“You really don’t want to test her,” Worthington warned as a crowd gathered around them.
“Oooh, I’m shaking in my boots,” the woman mocked. She grabbed a handful of Jennie’s hair and rose upward.
Jennie felt a blossom of pain from the top of her scalp as she was lifted off the floor. This pain she didn’t show, however. Instead, her eyes were closed behind her sunglasses as she silently watched the clock in her head.
Three.
Two.
One.
Oh, bitch. It’s on.
Chapter Four
There was a blinding flash of light, followed by gasps from the crowd.
The woman held her fist in the air, uncertain what was happening as she felt Jennie’s weight lessen to nothing. She blinked against the sudden attack of light and turned her head away.
Then came the pain.
The mortal’s fist pummeled her cheek before she had any idea what was happening. The next thing she knew, she had toppled backward and was looking at the ceiling from the floor.
She rubbed her sore cheek, not quite believing what had happened. She could feel pain. For the first time in a long time, she actually hurt.
The light faded entirely, revealing another specter in the room.
But she isn’t another specter, is she? What the fuck is going on?
Jennie jumped over the woman on the floor and turned her attention to the guys standing behind her.
She was glowing a spectral blue, a small line of power connecting her to Worthington. From this connection, she channeled the spectral powers she had within and connected with the world of the dead.
“You don’t know how many cocky sons-of-bitches I’ve had to teach lessons to over the years,” she told them. “You still sure you want to do this?”
The first specter roared and ran toward her. Jennie blocked his jab with a cross of her forearms, deflecting the shot and using his momentum to sidestep and allow him past. As he drew parallel with her, she raised an elbow and jammed it down on the back of his skull.
The specter cried out in pain and landed on top of the woman, who had been halfway toward getting to her knees.
Jennie wagged a finger at her. “Not yet, pussycat. Stay down until I tell you to get up.”
A shout came from the next specter, a man with fists like bowling balls and a face to match. He held a small dagger, which he tossed back and forth between his hands. The grunt next to him did the same, both leering menacingly as they came at her with their knives.
They attacked with impressive ferocity. The first specter slashed at her stomach, and Jennie blocked it while drawing her pistol. Ghostly metal clanged on metal, and the specter responded by attempting to backhand her wi
th his melon of a fist.
Jennie ducked, then used her momentum to drive an uppercut into his chin. When the next specter came at her, she was in the midst of replacing her pistol in its holster. She saw his fist and prepared to duck again, only she reacted a fraction too late.
The fist connected with her shoulder and spun her around. The blow was hard enough to send her careening into the throng of specters watching like a kids’ school fight.
“You okay?” Worthington shouted.
Jennie tilted her head left to right, her bones cracking as she did so. “Yep. No worries.”
The specter charged at her, and she allowed his arms to wrap around her waist and drive her back into the brick wall. Had they been on the mortal plane, the bricks would likely have cracked, adding to the rustic antiquity of this place.
Jennie patted the specter’s mountainous back. “It’s quite fine if you’ve got mommy issues, you know. Lots of people’s mommies never hug their children.”
The grunt looked up at her, confusion on his face. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” she grinned. “I just wanted to distract you long enough to see what you’re about.”
“See what I’m— Argh!”
The specter’s voice cut off as Jennie’s eyes grew white behind her glasses. She closed her eyes, feeling around for his power, overriding the string attached to Worthington.
The specter tensed as he felt Jennie’s power probing him.
Jennie smiled. “Oh, now this could be interesting…”
She honed her concentration on the specter and felt her body change. The muscles on her arms and legs grew so taut and strong that she felt she could lift anything.
And it seemed she could.
She grabbed the specter around his waist, hugging him tightly as she raised him off the floor; the angle caused him to hang awkwardly in her arms. “Hey, Worthington. Fancy a bite of this beefcake?”
“What are you talking about?” Worthington replied.
Jennie grinned. “You know, because you’re a Beefeater?”
Worthington closed his eyes as if pained by her words. He leaned toward the nearest specter—a boy of around thirteen in a flat cap, his cheeks stained with soot—and said, “She thinks that kind of stuff is funny, but all it does is—”
A hand wrapped around his ankle and pulled his leg out from beneath him. Worthington landed on his face.
The woman crawled toward him and licked her lips. “You! You’re the traitor who’s giving your abilities to that bitch? How about we exorcise you and cut her off from the source? Perhaps that’d make this a fair fight.”
Worthington disagreed. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s something wrong with a woman who thinks a fair fight is five against one.”
The woman spun on the floor and kicked Worthington in the face.
Jennie tossed the specter through the air with ease. She might as well have been launching a paper airplane. The specter whacked into his comrade, and the pair folded to the ground. “How are you doing back there, fuel bag?” She looked across the crowd and saw Worthington on the floor.
Worthington sighed. “Maybe a little help over here.”
Jennie ran across the room and stood on the specter’s back to launch herself toward the woman, who held a knife and was inching toward Worthington.
She landed on the woman’s back, and before she had a chance to respond, reached down to her hip, where a large gun materialized before the specters’ eyes. A few of them gasped in awe. It was around the size and shape of a sawed-off shotgun, but the weapon had clearly had some modifications made to it over the years.
“Put. The knife. Down.” Jennie punctuated each word with a curl of her lip.
Incredibly, the woman beneath her boot began to wheeze a laugh.
“You really think you can hurt me with that? You must be even more stupid than you look. How about when I finally slice your throat, you can crawl back to your precious queen and beg her forgiveness for being such a poor excuse for a mortal? I’m sure she’d like that.”
Jennie thumbed off the safety and held the gun inches from the woman’s face. “Or how about you beg for forgiveness, and I give you a chance to keep that pretty face in one piece? I think that’s a fair enough trade, considering you and your fuck-buddies decided to gang up on us for no reason.”
“No reason?” The woman spat again. “The filthy queeny scum says there’s no reason? Think again, bitch. You’re the whole reason we’re in this fucking mess.”
Jennie raised an eyebrow. Moved the gun closer. “Say that one more time.”
“Go ahead.” The woman sneered. “Let’s see how well your precious mortal weapons fare against a spec—”
The report was loud, a great booming explosion of sound. The specters covered their ears with their hands, then began complaining of burst eardrums and a high-pitched whine.
Jennie studied the woman’s face, a smug smile teasing the corner of her lips.
The specter was still very much “alive,” but her head was a complete mess. The only part of her that remained in working order was what was left of her mouth as she protested and cried out in a pain she hadn’t believed possible.
Jennie shook her head. It didn’t matter how many times she faced off against specters with her modified guns, they never learned. She supposed they grew complacent that their weapons wouldn’t work on mortals and assumed that to be the case for anyone who dipped into the spectral world.
It seemed they had no idea that the rules didn’t apply to Jennie.
The specters behind her looked at their boss with sudden fear.
“Wha… What are you?” one grunted before they whirled and headed for the exit, vanishing through the doorway moments later.
A stunned silence fell across the catacombs.
Jennie dropped to one knee beside the woman, looking at the place where her eyes had once been like a lover sitting at the edge of a cancer patient's bed. “Hurts, doesn’t it? See, that’s what happens to specters who underestimate my capabilities. You might not have found your way to the dark tunnel that comes after the spectral afterlife, but you’ll wish you had.” She plucked the woman’s knife from her hand and examined it. She placed the blade against her forearm and increased the pressure until a tiny droplet of blood formed. “Nice. I’m guessing this is…1940s? Tempered steel? Maybe military-grade?”
The woman nodded.
“Could have really hurt me with that, you know.” She tossed the knife onto the woman’s body and stood up. “Don’t worry, though. Just give it three to five days, and your face will be as good as new. You might not know this, but specters actually have an impressive ability to heal.”
The mouth flapped, uttering unintelligible syllables, until finally. “Who…who…”
“Who am I?” Jennie asked, leaning over the woman. “That doesn’t really matter right now. All you need to know is that I’ve been in this game longer than you’ve been around. I eat specters like you for breakfast and shit them out at dinnertime. But before I go on my almighty rampage, I need to ask you a question. Who are you working for?”
To her surprise, the lower part of the specter’s face broke into a smile. She gargled on something in the back of her throat and laughed. “You have no idea who you’re up against.”
“Why don’t you enlighten me?” Jennie pressed.
The woman waved her closer. Jennie leaned toward the woman’s mouth. She could hear odd parts of words in a hushed tone, then warm liquid hit her face. A dollop of bloody ghost spit dripped off her cheek.
Jennie stood up, aimed the gun at her head, and took the shot. Had the woman been mortal, there would be nothing left to salvage, but Jennie knew it would all grow back in time.
“Make that seven to ten days,” Jennie told her. “Doctor’s orders.” She nodded for Worthington to follow her and headed for the door, her body still shining with a ghostly pallor.
She rested her hand on the handle and cut o
ff the connection to Worthington. Her body returned to its normal color, the small scratch on her arm now clearer than before. At a wave of his hand, the guns fizzled into nothingness. “Oh, and tell your boss what you’ve seen. We’re coming for him, and whoever his security is, well. It doesn’t matter. There’s a new law enforcer in this city."
Chapter Five
New York City, USA, Present Day
Worthington cast furtive glances behind him as Jennie beelined through the streets toward Central Park. “Are you sure that was entirely wise?”
“What do you mean?” Jennie replied.
Worthington gave her a stern look. “You know, informing every specter in New York about what we’re here to do and what you’re capable of? In my day, we used to run covert missions based on the element of surprise.”
Jennie laughed. “Yes, and in your day, you also invaded Vietnam and brought AIDS to the Western world. Things move on. Get with the program. Now those specters are going to be shit-scared and tell their friends about us. My reputation runs on people knowing that I deliver justice—no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, the sooner we can make an impact, the sooner we can get back to the UK and deliver the good news to the queen.”
“Oh, won’t that be a blessing,” Worthington replied, a far-off dreamy look in his eyes.
Jennie ignored his sarcasm. “Exactly. What do you think all that stuff they were saying in there was anyway? The Yanks seem awfully hostile toward the paranormal court.”
“Not all of them,” Worthington corrected. “Just a small number. It probably has something to do with the fact that we’re not well-represented over here. You know as well as I do that the paranormal court operates out of UK and Europe. It takes a lot of work to provide protection and loyalty to those over on this side of the—”
“Don’t say it,” Jennie warned.
“The Pond.” Worthington smirked.
Jennie glared at him. “Well, let’s see if we can catch a few of those traitors and work out what the hell is going on here.”
Rogue, Renegade And Rebel (In Her Paranormal Majesty’s Secret Service Book 1) Page 5
