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

by Michael Anderle

  “How did you find me?” Hendrick inquired. “I heard a rumor you were in the area, but I thought it prudent not to ask more than I should.”

  “Who did you hear about me from?” Jennie asked.

  Hendrick thought back, taking his time in recalling the memory. “Some of Her Majesty’s people while I was making my way home. I picked up the word ‘Rogue’ and wondered if they were discussing you. Now, you must answer my question.”

  Jennie pulled her phone out of her pocket and shook it in front of Hendrick. “I still know people who know people, and those people know you.”

  Hendrick laughed, the sound like dust puffed through an old vacuum cleaner bag. “Very good, very good. I’m assuming because you’ve gone out of your way to find me that you are in need of some of my stock? You realize my trade ends at five PM sharp, and closing time has passed?”

  Jennie lowered her glasses and looked over them at Hendrick. “You know, I must have missed the sign on my way in.” She dropped a hand to her hip. “Well. It’s only the stability of the whole world at stake. I’ll just go and tell the forces of evil I can’t deal with them until…what time do you open?”

  Hendrick was quiet for a moment, staring intently at Jennie.

  Baxter swallowed, wondering if she had pushed the old man too far.

  Hendrick suddenly exploded with laughter, his layers of wrinkles wobbling like Jell-O. “Very good, very good. Follow me, lass. I’ve got lots to show you.”

  Jennie glanced at Baxter and stuck out her tongue.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Lenox Hill, New York City

  Hendrick led them through a door at the back of the store. “So, tell me, are you here to replenish what you have, or to stock up completely?”

  If the front area of the shop had been strange, the back room was beyond anything Baxter had ever seen. He recognized the specialized equipment on the tables that were dotted about the large wooden room, packed with various conical flasks, Büchner funnels, and tubes. Chemicals and other ingredients lined the shelves that filled the walls and the floors. Innumerable vials and specimen jars spilled out of the cupboards and nestled in baskets hung from the ceiling.

  “A bit of both,” Jennie replied, nonplussed by Hendrick’s gear. “I’ve used some of my personal effects over the last week, and I need to stock up on those, but I won’t turn down anything you’ve got that could be useful for the future.”

  “You’re a chemist?” Baxter asked, ignorant of the words Jennie had just spoken.

  She laughed, forgetting for a moment this sort of setup wasn’t what people usually saw in their day-to-day lives. For Jennie, this was a staple of her world.

  “A chemist?” Hendrick exclaimed. “Oh, dear boy, no. ‘Chemist’ is such a crude word for an artist who works with the elements. It is both beautiful and technical.”

  “Then what are you?” Baxter asked, glossing over the fact that he, a century-old specter, had just been called “boy.”

  “An alchemist.” Hendrick rooted through his cupboards. Glass clinked, and liquid spilled. When one small drop from the vial landed on the floor, the concrete opened into a small, dark hole as the substance hungrily ate through it.

  Baxter looked at Jennie for help. He wanted to ask more but wasn’t sure if he should.

  Jennie laughed. “Hendrick is one of a very rare breed, the masters of a profession long since lost to legend by mortals. Alchemists are procurers of rare ingredients and masters of potions.”

  Baxter was no clearer on the distinction. “I was right, then? A fancy chemist?”

  Hendrick flinched. His head hit the top of the cupboard he was ducking inside as he searched for items. “Bastard!”

  Jennie gasped. “Hendrick, watch your language.”

  Hendrick withdrew from the cupboard and rubbed his head. In his free hand were several small vials. “If I remember rightly, it’s you who has the loose tongue, young lady. I’d never dreamed of the day Genevieve King would reprimand me for foul language.”

  Jennie smirked. “I never dreamed I’d meet a wrinkly old nutsack with a tongue like a dagger.”

  Hendrick returned the grin. “Tell your friend to watch his tone.”

  “Alchemists don’t like being called chemists,” she reiterated to Baxter. “It makes them feel inferior.

  “What’s the difference?” Baxter spoke more quietly now, hoping not to be heard by Hendrick while the alchemist made his way around the room and collected various items in the crook of his arm.

  “A chemist deals in the elements of the periodic table, creating substances to harm or benefit mankind,” Jennie explained. “An alchemist, on the other hand, plays with more mysterious materials. They create concoctions that can apply to man or specter. Compounds and elements which defy modern logic and create the impossible.”

  Baxter frowned. “You mean like the gas that confounded the specters in the alley?”

  Jennie grinned. “Exactly like that. If you’d have been mortal, you wouldn’t have even seen that cloud.”

  Baxter’s eyes widened in wonder. “Amazing…”

  Jennie nodded. “I know.”

  Hendrick finally returned to them and delicately placed all of the items he had gathered onto a clear portion of the workspace. There were containers of a range of shapes, including some small cylindrical vials like the ones Jennie already had in her pockets, and some which were flatter and rectangular. There were even a few that were hour-glass and hexagonal.

  He guided them through what each of the concoctions did. Baxter couldn’t take it all in since none of it made any sense. In all his years, he had been taught what science was and what it was capable of, and now he was being shown potions that could do the unspeakable.

  Jennie pointed out a potion in the hourglass-shaped vial. It was deep orange in color and viscous enough to cling to the glass like molasses.

  Hendrick explained that a single drop of this potion was enough to paralyze a specter and make it freeze on the spot for several minutes. Two or three drops, and it would be incapacitated for several hours.

  Jennie indicated another vial containing a clear liquid that was almost invisible to the naked eye. This one reacted with the air and created a barrier through which no specter or mortal could pass. As clear as the cleanest glass and as tough as a brick wall, all that was needed was for the vial to smash on the floor, and an invisible barrier would appear.

  “Interesting.” Jennie held the vial to her eye. “This could come in handy.”

  “If you’ve got several of those, you could always smash them in a circle and create an invisible cage to trap them,” Baxter suggested.

  Jennie grinned, liking his thinking. “What else do you have?”

  Hendrick had the usual supply of distractors and aggressors, vials with potions that melted through locks, which Jenny paid for upfront and placed safely in her pockets, as well as vials that caused small explosions when thrown and liquids that dazzled and confused enemies.

  “Do you have any more of this?” Jennie asked, holding up a small purple vial that was now half-empty.

  Hendrick held the vial close to his beady eyes, then unscrewed the top and took a long sniff.

  “What does that one do?” Baxter asked.

  Hendrick chuckled, waddled over to a small cupboard filled with the corpses of dead flowers surrounding a single large glass bottle, and poured some more into the vial.

  He handed it back to Jennie, who held the top open for Baxter.

  Baxter took a long sniff. “Perfume?”

  Jennie winked as she stowed the bottle. “You got it.”

  Baxter laughed and addressed Hendrick. “All of these concoctions, and you also dabble in perfume?”

  “It was Jennie’s idea,” Hendrick told him. “Back in London, we worked for hours to craft the perfect scent—something that would be unique to the mortals who frequented the spectral arena.”

  Jennie gave a nostalgic smile. “At the time, I’d been on a sixt
y-year mission to prove there were others like me who could do what I do. I’ve since given up.”

  “Yet, I’ve always kept your stock.”

  Jennie stood beside Hendrick and placed an arm over his shoulder. “That’s why I pay you handsomely.”

  They spent another half-hour in the backroom of Hendrick’s shop while Jennie deliberated over what to keep in her pockets. She only had so many that could comfortably hold the potions, so it was of vital importance to select the ones that would benefit her in the fight to come.

  And there was going to be a fight.

  Finally, Hendrick guided Jennie back to the front of the shop with her pockets full and her spirits high. Jennie wasn’t surprised to see the city had grown dark. Headlights dazzled them as they passed the glass front.

  “It’s amazing to see you again,” Jennie told Hendrick, embracing him tightly. She held his shoulders and studied him from top to toe. “Any plans for an apprentice? You know you won’t live forever.”

  Hendrick laughed at the brazenness of Jennie’s comment. “You never did learn to watch your mouth.”

  Jennie laughed. “That’s why they call me ‘Rogue.’”

  “We can’t all live forever like you,” Hendrick reminded her. “Finding those in the city who want to commit themselves to the ancient arts is difficult in a world where everyone changes what they do every week, and attention spans are only as long as the latest meme. Alchemy is a dying art, but maybe I can teach it to someone in the afterlife. Hey, maybe I can teach it to you?”

  “I’m sorry.” Jennie grinned. “I’m afraid my life is already bound to another path.”

  “I thought as much,” Hendrick replied. “You take care.”

  Jennie patted his arm. “And you.”

  “Thanks, I guess,” Baxter put in awkwardly. He offered a hand, and Hendrick took it. His skin felt thick and leathery.

  “Take care of her. She’s one of a kind,” Hendrick told Baxter.

  Baxter nodded but didn’t reply.

  “Oh!” Jennie paused with her hand hovering over the front door lock. “One more thing.”

  “Yes?” Hendrick asked.

  Jennie grinned. “Well, I haven’t slept for over twenty-four hours. I don’t suppose you could…”

  Hendrick threw a small bottle to Jennie. “Do you even need to ask?”

  “Carpe noctem.” Jennie grinned, drained the bottle, and left the shop.

  Times Square, New York City

  Carolyn took her place on the balcony and watched the flood of tourists and city-goers moving around Times Square.

  The lights were bright, illuminating the street as if it were daytime. Ads scrolled and flashed on screens larger than houses, with the latest dreams being pushed to the public. The whole thing made Carolyn miss her life as a mortal.

  “It gets easier,” Feng Mian told her. He stood beside her, arms folded, eyes scanning the streets below.

  They had been put on guard duty by Lupe and Jennie and told to watch the square for any sign of spectral activity. There were specters in place all around New York, watching out for any sign of the enemy. They weren’t sure what Jennie and Lupe thought was going to happen, but they were all on high alert.

  “Thanks,” Carolyn replied. “But when?”

  Feng Mian considered this. She wondered if she’d get a full answer, knowing the man was not exactly the world’s most comprehensive communicator.

  “Soon. Time heals. You’ll see.” He smiled, a small thing she almost missed.

  Carolyn nodded. Below them, the roads were choked with pedestrians. Tourists posed with cameras on the islands around the roads, and somewhere a musician was busking with his guitar.

  Dotted among them all was a smattering of specters. These Feng Mian had named as neutrals, specters who had not picked an allegiance and simply haunted the city without any aim. It was strange seeing them floating through the crowd, some of them photobombing people’s pictures, while others simply wandered with melancholy expressions, possibly lamenting that they were specters.

  Carolyn could sympathize with that.

  Sensing Carolyn’s sadness, Feng Mian decided to distract her. “Do you want to learn to fight and use your abilities?”

  Carolyn lifted her chin from where she’d been resting it on her arms on the railing and stood up straight. “You mean it?”

  Feng Mian nodded. “Come, turn and bow.”

  Carolyn did as she was asked. “Maybe I’m too small to be any good at fighting.”

  Feng Mian shook his head. “Your energy is no longer just a part of who you are. No more skin and bone. You are pure energy. You must learn to feel it.”

  Carolyn closed her eyes and tried to tune into her body. He was right; the whole of her body felt different. Whereas before she could feel her heartbeat and the warmth of her skin, now she felt as though she were made of water fighting to keep its shape.

  Feng Mian continued. “Inside is your power. If you can learn to control it with your mind, then you unlock what you are capable of. Try.”

  Carolyn took a deep breath and felt the cold energy moving around her. She forgot to hold her solidity and began sinking into the floor. Without thinking, she caught herself before she disappeared.

  “I did it!” She placed her hands on the floor and pushed herself back to a standing position.

  “You could always do it,” Feng Mian told her.

  “But… It’s controlled.”

  Feng Mian gave a rare grin. “This is the easy part. You must learn to fight, too. Harness what’s inside of you.”

  “What does that mean?” Carolyn asked, her hands turning to flat blades as she pretended to slice through the air. “You going to teach me some Taekwondo? Maybe some Muay Thai, or Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu?”

  Feng Mian shook his head. “All of this is easy to learn. Fighting is a sequence of movements in response to a specific stimulus. Anyone can learn to fight. You will, too.”

  Carolyn arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean, then?”

  Feng Mian turned and gripped the balcony, eyes scanning for the specters. “Every specter possesses a hidden talent. Something which gives them value and makes them powerful. For some, it is simply the ability to manipulate electricity and startle humans. For others, it’s to turn completely invisible, even to specters.”

  “Which is why you could create that barrier,” Carolyn gasped. “With the girl? You were able to create a forcefield to protect her.”

  Feng Mian nodded. “Only when concentrating. I am ashamed that I failed.”

  “We failed,” she reminded him.

  “That does not make it better,” he told her sadly.

  Carolyn let out a short, emotionless laugh. “You’re right, there.” She joined Feng Mian and watched the street again. “What do you think my power is?”

  Feng Mian was silent for a long moment, so long that Carolyn thought he hadn’t heard the question.

  Carolyn fell into an introspective silence, her thoughts focused on what power she’d find she had. She was about to nudge Fend Mian into a reply when she felt a prickle at the back of her neck. Tiny spectral hairs stood on end and her attention was drawn to the square.

  She searched the crowd, not knowing what she was looking for, just knowing she needed to. She spotted a group of specters drifting into an alley, keeping close to the shadows until they disappeared from sight.

  “There.” Carolyn pointed. “The loyalists, they went down there.”

  Feng Mian followed her finger.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “What?” Carolyn said.

  “Nothing,” he called back as he ran inside and worked his way down the stairs and out into the street.

  Lenox Hill, New York City

  They had been about to turn down the side street when something caught Jennie’s attention.

  She turned to Baxter. “Did you hear that?”

  Baxter paused and listened. “No? What’re you…”

  A scream i
nterrupted his reply. A moment later, another scream sounded.

  Jennie took off in the direction of the distress, leaving Baxter to follow in her wake.

  Baxter lowered his head and sprinted after her. With his giant strides, it wouldn’t take too long. He just wished she wouldn’t just run off ahead. For once, it would be nice to feel like a team.

  The cries sounded again. They passed several passersby who shook their heads.

  Clearly, the mortals weren’t able to hear the distress, which meant only one thing.

  “No, please! No!”

  The source of the screams was close. Jennie felt the first thrum of spectral energy as she rounded the corner and came out in a quiet street. She slowed her footsteps, not wanting to alert whoever was dishing out the pain that she was nearby.

  Surprise is the best weapon.

  Baxter caught up with her. His footsteps echoed loudly, and his breathing was heavy.

  Jennie whirled and placed a finger on her lips.

  Baxter stopped and tried to catch his breath as quietly as possible. It was comical to the giant that he would go into stealth mode at the click of her fingers.

  Jennie tiptoed along the street and moved near the wall. She worked her way toward a small alley where the lights from the sodium arcs couldn’t reach.

  “I can’t. I can’t do it. I promised I’d never choose.” The voice was soft and feminine. Pain laced every syllable, and dark cackles could be heard from her captors.

  “From where I’m standing, you don’t have much of a choice,” a growling voice informed her. “You and your pretty boy can either join us or live forever in our torture chamber while we cut a piece of you off each day, only to watch it grow back so we can do it all over again.”

  “I vote for the toes,” another voice offered gleefully. “Definitely the toes.”

  “You always go for the toes,” a third complained. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I like feet.”

  “Please!” A man’s voice, desperate and pleading. “No more! We’ll do it. We’ll—”

  “George, no,” the woman shouted, before screaming out in pain once more.