Rogue, Renegade And Rebel (In Her Paranormal Majesty’s Secret Service Book 1)

by Michael Anderle

  Jennie shrugged. “We won’t know until she wakes up.”

  Tanya paused, then frowned. “When is she going to wake up?”

  Again, there was no answer to give.

  Tanya still wasn’t satisfied. “Can’t you force her to wake up? Do your power thingy and zap her awake?”

  Jennie shot her a look.

  “What?” Tanya asked.

  “Would you like to be awoken by being zapped into consciousness?” Jennie asked. She picked up a nearby extension cord and yanked it from the wall so hard the plastic casing broke and the copper wires were exposed. “Here, let me connect this to your temple while you’re sleeping, and you tell me if you appreciate the wakeup call.”

  “Fine.” Tanya deflated. She turned back to Lupe and shook her head. “I can’t believe you couldn’t describe her.”

  “Describe her?” Lupe repeated, aghast. “I didn’t even pick these clothes out. You think I know what I’m wearing? There’s a reason I usually wear a cloak.”

  “I thought that was because of the scars on your face?” Jennie asked innocently.

  Lupe gave a half-nod. “That’s part of it, too, I suppose.”

  Jennie took a seat and watched the girl as she breathed softly on the couch. Baxter sat patiently beside her, looking like a faithful Labrador at the foot of its master.

  And so, they waited.

  Chapter Thirty

  The Plaza, New York City

  When the elevator dinged, Jennie walked through parting doors and straight toward her temporary apartment. Baxter walked swiftly behind her with the girl nestled safely in his arms and two other specters in tow.

  The first was someone Jennie had thought she wouldn’t see again. Carolyn was a damn sight chirpier than when they had last met her at the city hospital’s morgue. Back then, she had been barraged with the decision of where to align her loyalties and had blindly followed a gowned specter into the Spectral Plane.

  At the time, Jennie had believed the Spectral Plane to be a rogue faction. A group of anarchist rebels looking to oust the queen. Now, her opinion was quite different. She held no sore feelings for Carolyn choosing an alternative path and was actually rather pleased to see her again when Lupe guided her and Baxter to the subway to look for reinforcements to their cause.

  The second specter was one whom Jennie vaguely remembered from her invasion of the Spectral Plane’s underground home. A face plucked from the crowd around the time she had been piled upon by specters and managed to break herself free by harnessing their energies and using it against them.

  This specter—Feng Mian—was ancient. Born of Chinese descent, Feng Mian had been mostly silent so far. Though Jennie was certain he understood their language, it was clear English wasn’t his native tongue.

  Baxter took the girl to the couch in front of the immense high-rise view of Central Park and laid her down.

  Small snores escaped her tiny lips.

  The girl hadn’t awoken. They had waited hours, and there was no sign of her regaining consciousness whatsoever. As midday gave way to afternoon and then into evening, Jennie had grown impatient. There was more to do in the city. Far more than babysitting a young specter until she decided to awake.

  It was with great reluctance on Tanya’s part that they took their leave, promising to update her should there be any developments with the girl. Although there was no way on Earth that Tanya would be able to see her when she did awake, she seemed to have created quite the impression on the Spirit Mother.

  “Make sure she’s comfortable,” Jennie told Baxter.

  Baxter smirked. “She’s been sleeping inside a rock for two hundred years. How uncomfortable can this really be?”

  Jennie busied herself at the bar and made herself a nightcap.

  “This place is amazing,” Carolyn breathed as she made her way to the window and placed her hands against the glass.

  Her face and palms slipped straight through, and before she knew it, the whole top half of her body had started to tumble out of the building.

  She managed to get out a small scream before Feng Mian dashed across the room, grabbed her shirt, and pulled her back into the room. His face remained neutral throughout the whole process.

  Carolyn placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart. “Wow, thanks. I keep forgetting I’m dead. It’s taking forever to learn how to control my spectral abilities.”

  Feng Mian gave a curt nod, and nothing more.

  Carolyn returned to the window, remaining a couple of feet back this time, and looked down toward the street below. “What would have happened if I’d have fallen? Would I have…”

  “Died again?” Baxter asked. “I doubt it. To be honest, I’m not sure what would happen. I’m yet to meet a specter who’s tested their abilities by base jumping from a ridiculous height. It’s not really worth it to try, is it? If you land and you’re fine, then great. If you land and you’re not, well, it’s to the void with you.”

  “So, no one knows?” Carolyn asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Baxter answered. He turned to Feng Mian. “You?”

  Feng Mian shook his head.

  “Anyone for a grasshopper?” Jennie called to the apartment, gesturing to the cocktail glasses she’d filled with sickly green liquid.

  “What’s a grasshopper?” Baxter crossed the apartment and sniffed one of the glasses. His nose wrinkled. “Wow, that smells like toothpaste.”

  “Wouldn’t have thought they had toothpaste in your day.” Carolyn smirked. “I’ve seen pictures of people your age. All black or missing teeth.”

  Jennie took a long sip from her glass, the thick liquid leaving a green mustache on her lips. “Actually, toothpaste was invented in the late 1800s. My parents used to have it in a jar in the bathroom.”

  “In a jar?” Carolyn laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Jennie shook her head. “Not one bit. It wasn’t until the end of the century that it came in a tube in the States, and it took a few more years to migrate over to us Brits after that.”

  Baxter chuckled. “And they say there’s nothing to the jokes about Brits and their teeth.”

  Carolyn eyed Jennie suspiciously. She had clearly heard something of her reputation but couldn’t quite believe what she was saying.

  “You say your parents had jars of toothpaste at the end of the nineteenth century?”

  Jennie nodded. “That’s correct.”

  “But that would make you…” Carolyn’s eyes turned upward as she performed mental arithmetic.

  “Need a calculator?” Baxter asked.

  Carolyn shook her head. Whispers of “1900 would be a hundred and nineteen years…” tumbled from her lips.

  Jennie could take no more. “I’m a hundred and thirty-eight, genius.”

  Carolyn gaped. “But you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

  Jennie grinned. “Thanks.”

  “How is that even possible?” Carolyn asked.

  Jennie wasn’t getting into it now. “It’s a long thread to untangle, dear. Longer than we have time for. How about we discuss this after I get some shut-eye? We’ve got a long night ahead.”

  Baxter spoke from behind his hand. “That’s code for ‘I have no idea.’”

  Jennie glared at him, then turned her attention to the others. “Okay, so you know the deal. Watch her like a hawk until she wakes. If she does wake, let me know. Straight away. The minute you see movement. I don’t want to be woken by sunlight and realize I missed out on the newborn specter imprinting on me.”

  “What’s imprinting?” Carolyn asked.

  “It’s when a baby bird is born, and they imprint on the first thing they see as their mother,” Baxter answered. “That’s why ducklings know to follow their mama duck—because she’s the first thing they see.”

  “Oh, okay.” Carolyn’s face screwed up in thought. “But she’s not a newborn specter. At least, no more newborn than me.”

  Jennie pinched the bridge of her nose
. “Is she always going to be this literal?”

  “Hey, you wanted me on your team.” Carolyn smiled. “Maybe not at first, back in that morgue. But now that you’ve come over to the light side, you know you love having me here.”

  “The light side?” Baxter asked.

  “Star Wars reference,” Jennie replied. “Cute. And, maybe you’re right. Or maybe, because you’re new-born, I thought you’d be the easiest to influence and manipulate.”

  A quiet pause.

  “Did you?” Carolyn asked.

  Jennie grinned, turned on her heels, and went to her bedroom.

  The door closed softly behind.

  Jennie awoke several hours later, refreshed and ready to go.

  There had once been a time in her life when sleep had eluded her. In the early days of working for the paranormal court when her parents had gone, and life didn’t make sense.

  But now, after decades of familiarizing herself with her body and understanding what she needed to work, she found she could operate on just a few hours’ sleep at a time. To her, four hours was just as restorative as eight. Six hours was just as rejuvenating as twelve.

  Jennie stretched, got dressed, and headed back to an eerily quiet living room.

  There was a part of her that had expected to be roused by Carolyn, Feng Mian, or Baxter telling her the girl was awake. Even now, as she entered the living room and saw the four specters on their respective chairs snoozing away, she thought she might have at least found the girl up and alert to the world around her.

  “Hey, sleepyheads,” Jennie called louder than usual. “Great job keeping an eye on the girl.” She slow clapped. “I gave you guys one job.”

  Baxter pawed at his eyes, rapidly pushing himself to a seated position.

  “Relax,” Carolyn told her. “She’s still here, isn’t she?”

  “What if she wasn’t?” Jennie asked, eyes boring into Carolyn’s. “What then? We’d have a confused and scared specter on the loose with unknown powers.”

  “About that,” Carolyn asked. “How do we know she has different powers than us? What evidence have you got that this is true?”

  Jennie considered this. “Very little, so far. But I’m not taking the risk of not being careful just on the off-chance she may be just as ordinary as you.”

  Carolyn’s mouth flapped open, then shut.

  Jennie crossed the apartment and found her way to the minibar, where she began tinkering once more. The glasses from her previous cocktails were still on the side. “You couldn’t be arsed to wash up while I was asleep?” she scolded, pouring measures of cognac, Cointreau, and lemon juice into a tumbler.

  Carolyn moved to within earshot of Baxter. “Why does she do that?”

  “Do what?” Baxter asked.

  Jennie began to shake the tumbler next to her ear, the metal container beading with condensation as the ice and cold liquids frosted the outside.

  “Talk to us as though we’re still alive and can help and do stuff?” Carolyn expanded.

  Baxter shrugged. “I can’t say I’ve asked the question.”

  Jennie reached into the cupboard and pulled out several margarita glasses.

  “There you go,” Carolyn whispered. “She’s pouring us drinks again. Why?”

  Baxter watched and fell into silent thought.

  “Orders are up!” Jennie called, pouring a pile of sugar onto a plate. She wet the rim of each glass and dipped it into the sugar. She popped the lid off the tumbler, and a sweet-smelling yellow drink foamed out and filled the glasses.

  “Say, Jennie?” Baxter started, unsure how best to proceed.

  “Hmm?” Jennie murmured, not looking at Baxter but raiding the fridge instead for a lemon to garnish.

  “Why do you keep offering us drinks when you know specters can’t consume mortal beverages?” Baxter finished.

  For the first time since she started making the cocktail, Jennie looked up. She took a wedge of lemon, sank her teeth into its juicy flesh, and sucked hard. What would have made an ordinary man wince and screw his face up as the sourness hit his taste buds only made Jennie grunt in satisfaction.

  “Because it’s kind,” Jennie replied, chewing the lemon pulp. “Because the minute we forget our kindness and sensibilities, we start to degenerate and forget our manners. I grew up in an era where manners and civility were the staples of our society. If you think I’m going to leave manners behind just because you three are dead, think again.”

  Baxter and Carolyn were stunned to silence. That had been the last answer they’d been expecting.

  Jennie found a flask among the various other drinks containers and poured the rest of the cocktail inside. She raised it toward the others. “One for the road,” she muttered, then placed it on the counter and checked her cell phone.

  There were several notifications on her screen—a few news articles triggered by her hunt for activity around the events in the museum yesterday, but nothing too concerning. There was also an update about a new album released by Taylor Swift.

  Jennie clicked the download button and made a note to crank that one up in the car.

  There was also a message from Tanya, stating that they were on the hunt for additional potential spectral activity. Apparently, the Hell’s Kitchen area of the city had been abuzz with reports of poltergeists among online forums, but there had been no more incidents or rumors of potential rocks or artifacts that might need investigation.

  Fortified by her drink, she motioned for Baxter to follow her. “Carolyn, Feng Mian, watch that girl like a hawk. I’m serious. I want an update the instant she wakes, no matter what I’m doing.” She pointed to the small fridge, where a large scrawl of red writing decorated the front. “I’ve written my number on the fridge. Make sure you call me. We’ll be out most of the night, okay?”

  Feng Mian nodded.

  “Okay,” Carolyn agreed. “Where are you going?”

  “Out.” Jennie grinned. “We’ve got some rogue specters to bring over to the light side.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Hell’s Kitchen, New York City

  The Mustang drove like a dream, but it sure was loud.

  More noticeably so the farther into Hell’s Kitchen they went. The engine growled like a ferocious cat as they passed through. The streets shrank, and the neon lights and glamor of central New York faded behind them.

  “At this rate, every criminal in New York, both specter and mortal, is going to hear us coming,” Baxter muttered.

  Jennie, who had only just turned down the volume after bopping along to Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings, couldn’t agree more. There had to be a way to give the kitty a narcotic.

  Great. Wake one baby up, put another one to sleep.

  She rifled through her in-car menu and found the option Dave the salesman had demonstrated for her when she had initially bought the car. Jennie selected “Quiet Exhaust.” She’d had a hunch a feature like this would come in handy.

  The rumbling growl turned instantly to the whispering hum of paper sliding across a blade of grass.

  “Impressive,” Baxter remarked.

  Jennie poked her tongue out the side of her mouth.

  They drove along the dark streets, zigzagging ever farther into areas where the buildings looked desolate and abandoned, but Jennie knew this not to be true. In third-floor apartments, the blue wash light of TV screens flickered and created ghostly outlines on the walls.

  Groups of teenagers and thugs strolled around in puffy jackets with their hands in their pockets. Jennie saw bandanas wrapped around their heads, and cigarettes and joints glowing in their mouths.

  Baxter shook his head as they passed just such a group, two men in their late teens flanking a woman in a skirt that ended millimeters short of her ass. “I don’t get it.”

  “I know,” Jennie told him. “No matter how long you live, it never changes.”

  “No, not that.” Baxter sighed. “Star Wars. I just don’t get it.”

  Jennie w
as slightly taken aback. “What do you mean you don’t get it? It’s just a stupid film about aliens and space tech. There’s nothing more to get.”

  Baxter shrugged. “People go mad for it, though. The light side, the dark side, little green alien dudes and growling fur men. Why was it such a break-out hit?”

  Jennie found herself laughing. “What does it matter?”

  Baxter stared out the window. “It doesn’t, I guess. I suppose I just can’t understand it since I’m passionate about real-world tech. Lightsabers and ray guns are centuries away from invention. Why worry about that tech when we’ve got so much to admire in front of our noses?”

  They arrived at the house just a few minutes later. Jennie insisted on parking her car a block or two away to not draw too much attention to her new baby.

  Lupe met them at the steps. He was dressed in his robe once more, looking a lot more like a tiny grim reaper than the polo-clad Latino from earlier that day. Around him were three burly specters who looked like they meant business.

  “You took your time,” he grunted.

  Jennie couldn’t help but chuckle. She thumbed at Baxter. “Bozo the specter made us walk all the way here. Can you believe it? I’ve got a beautiful new Mustang, and the specter gets all romantic and wants to tread the sidewalk.”

  Lupe turned to Baxter.

  “She’s full of shit,” Baxter told him, looking bored. “We drove here. She just insisted on sleeping.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jennie retorted.

  Lupe laughed. “You sound like an old married couple.”

  Baxter and Jennie flushed.

  “Married?” Jennie repeated. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’d rather die than be married.”

  Baxter winked. “That can be arranged.”

  Lupe shook his head. “When you’ve finished bickering, they’re ready for us.”

  Jennie turned her attention to the apartments in front of them. Six stories high, with vertical bars across each window, these buildings did not look inviting. Several of the windows were boarded up, and a dog was frantically barking inside one of the apartments.