by Renée Jaggér
Dante brushed against a girl who shouted, “Hey!” and glared after him, but there was no time to apologize. He was lagging in the rear of the formation. He considered himself to be in good shape, but he could not keep up with the others, especially Park, who had come to the Agency straight from the military and could probably have run a marathon before breakfast.
The young wizard looked through the scanner, which Velasquez was manning. They saw a blue-tinted ragged form disappear through a door ahead, around the corner leading to the mostly-abandoned food court.
Roland said, “It’s an overstock room for the restaurants. Don’t think she can get out that way. Might try to ambush us, though.”
“Whatever,” Velasquez snapped. “Get her!”
They bolted ahead and threw open the door, finding themselves in a dark space which, though large, was crowded with shelving, boxes, and tubs.
Dante suggested, “Leave the lights off. She might not be able to see us any better than we can see her. She’s been moving more by feel than sight, I think.”
The senior agent grunted. “You may be right.”
Roland cringed. “That’s spooky. Callie jumping out at me from a dark corner is something I never, ever want to happen.”
The scanner revealed only blackness as Velasquez panned it around, and they tried to make as little sound as they could, slowly advancing inward. Something crashed.
The agents pivoted and the scanner revealed...nothing. Then, in the scanner, Dante saw a faint blue glow past their shoulders.
“Behind you!” he shouted, and Velasquez dropped the tracking device.
Both wizards raised their hands and collaboratively conjured a shield that saved the two agents from death. A roaring cloud of poisoned ice shards dissipated against the arcane barrier.
Velasquez and Park spun, drawing their weapons and firing. The scanner showed the hideous image of the phantom hag, half-ghost and half-zombie, snarling at them as the green beams converged on her. Her dead eyes widened.
“Roland!” she cried out in a rasping hiss. Then the beams struck her in the chest, and her form wavered and dissolved.
Velasquez said, “Now!” and he and his partner deployed their suction tanks. One glowed green and one magenta; faint streams of glimmering blue dust were vacuumed into each, then silence set in.
Park laughed. “I might end up liking this job after all.”
Roland simply wiped his brow and leaned against a shelf. Dante wondered if hearing the creature call his name had been more than he could take. He’d known her, after all.
The four men exited the storeroom, whistling casually in case security spotted them, and left the mall through the food court’s doors to make the long walk back to their car.
Velasquez turned to the wizards. “Thank you for helping us in general, and for saving our asses in there. We have a file on eldritch crones, but neither of us has fought one before, so we didn’t know what to expect. In any event, she’s no threat to anyone, broken down into her essential salts or whatever. We’ll give you a ride back to that diner, then we’ll get rid of her once and for all. We promise.”
“Comforting,” said Roland.
Dante looked down at the tracking device. After he’d picked it back up in the storeroom, he’d forgotten to check it till now, and Park joined him in examining it.
“Jesus,” the agent muttered. “The screen’s cracked.”
Dante shrugged. “Well, don’t worry. The taxpayers will foot the bill. Right?”
Chapter Thirteen
Fenris had refused to leave until the council voted, and as he’d reminded them, any time he spent here was time he wasn’t spending watching over Bailey.
“So be it,” Thoth said at last, and aside from Freya, the others agreed. “We shall vote on whether Bailey should at least be brought in to defend herself while advancing her case as per the Ragnar incident.”
The council decided six to one to accept Fenris’s suggestion.
“Fools,” Freya said through gritted teeth. “You will come to regret this nonsense.”
The Egyptian deity, who usually acted as spokesperson and mediator for the council as a whole, tried to calm her down. “We have not voted to depose you at this time, Freya, only to hear the girl’s side of the story. Then we’ll go from there.”
“Aye,” Thor rumbled. “We’ve plotted behind her back enough as it is. I’d feel remiss if she wasn’t present to give her own account. We’re not such nithlings as to backstab her, are we?”
Coyote added, “The idea, I think, is not to bring her here for direct confrontation or combat, but simply a reckoning. Bailey and Freya should discuss their differences and present their reasons for acting as they have. Such a talk could be productive. Then we can move on to further judgments if need be.”
Thoth nodded. “Yes, I agree. The werewitch will not yet be judged, but she will be tested by each of us individually by fair standards to determine her overall worth and integrity. It is rare for a newly-ascended divinity to supplant a well-established one, but not unheard of. Freya, there is a good chance that you will retain your seat, but given your recent error, we are forced to consider Fenris’s proposal.”
Rather than respond to the Egyptian, Freya turned to the wolf-god.
“So, Fenris,” she began, “the council is in agreement that Bailey will be evaluated by us directly. If we go forward with this course of action, you are committing your pupil to the possibility of rejection and failure. Do you agree to subject her to that?”
Fenris ignored his sister’s obvious and arrogant implications. “So be it. Normally I leave major decisions in her hands, but in this case, it seems I must speak for her. I hereby pledge her participation in your trials and put her at the mercy of your wisdom.”
Freya smiled. “Good.”
* * *
Bailey ran down the dirt path. Beside her, a second Bailey ran in perfect synchronization with her movements. Both werewitches advanced with the same steady long-legged stride. Each breathed in time with the other. Their hair flapped in the breeze as if in a mirror, and when a log trap fell in front of them, both reflexively jumped over it and rolled past, then sprang back into a jog.
It was late morning. Bailey had risen early, getting breakfast and stretching and washing out of the way before heading to the obstacle course alone. She wanted to run through it again, taking different paths than the ones she’d used previously. While she was at it, she figured she could stand to practice illusion magic.
The training grounds were not quite ready to resume normal operations, and activities were still on an elective basis. Bailey had briefly spoken to Deona, and the woman had told her they expected the usual program to resume tomorrow.
She was approximately halfway through the course, and she was damn tired. Maintaining the illusion and ensuring that it remained connected to her and did exactly what she did doubled the effort she had to put into everything else the course threw at her.
She wondered if Carl had tagged along. He’d waffled, wanting to give himself a day to catch up on scholarly pursuits, but he’d suggested he might follow her into the course a bit later.
Minutes later, Bailey spotted the scion advancing toward a point where two paths converged. He must have entered the run directly behind her to be so close.
“Hey!” she shouted, and her clone mouthed the word also. “What’s a lowlife like you doing in a classy place like this?”
“Silence,” he shouted back. “This place isn’t classy at all. Wait, which one of you am I speaking to?”
Laughing, she pulled ahead of him. “You’ll have to figure that out on your own.”
Then something about the quality of his footfalls changed, and when she glanced over her shoulder again, two Carls ran behind her. Being taller, he was gaining on her.
“You asked for it,” he said, though she was uncertain which had spoken. Probably the one on the left.
The path narrowed and began to ascend a roc
ky slope, and Bailey slowed just enough for the scion and his double to nearly crash into her.
She snapped, “That’s it. As soon as this path widens, it’s go-time for all four of us. You owe me a rematch from last night anyway.”
He voiced no objection. They crested the ridge and came to a wide plain filled with tall, swaying emerald grass and mossy stones.
Carl and his clone attacked without preamble. Bailey had expected him to say something first, but she was used to having to fight on little notice, and she had a shield up in time to block the scions’ dual fireball attacks.
She conjured a ward then, one that would absorb water-based spells. He wouldn’t likely try fire twice, and during their armored duel she’d warded herself against electricity, so it made sense to her that he’d attempt something different.
With the ward up, she sent a flurry of tiny pebbles at the pair, noticing how they passed through the figure on the right. That was obviously the illusion. She commanded her double to engage it while she took on the real Carl.
I have the advantage this time, she thought as she ducked and pivoted around Carl’s melee attacks. He’s a good fighter, but nobody’s better than I am, and all my clone has to do is imitate me.
She ducked under Carl’s arm and elbowed him in the ribs while kicking his legs out from under him. As he fell, he tried to summon a geyser of water beneath her feet, but it dissipated into vapor before it touched her.
She laughed, then turned to throw a lightning bolt at the legs of Carl’s double. It struck true, and the illusion flickered while her doppelganger pummeled it. The second Carl fizzled out of existence.
Both Baileys converged on the real scion, flanking him with blindingly fast attacks. Her clone was caught in a net of arcane flame that disintegrated it, but by then, Bailey was able to grab Carl in a headlock and hold a plasma blade to his throat.
“Ughhh.” He sighed raggedly. “You win. I’m still better at pure illusion versus illusion combat until further notice.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, allowing him to regain his feet. “We’ll see about that. Anyway, it was a close fight.”
He agreed that it had been a hell of a match, and they finished the course together, crossing the finish line within seconds of one another.
“Man,” Carl breathed, “running that much and fighting is no joke, is it? I think I need a lunch break.”
Bailey thought about joining him but decided to keep training. “I’ll catch up with you later this evening,” she promised. They shook hands and went their separate ways.
As the scion headed toward the mess hall, Bailey made for the forest copse where Deona had instructed the two of them yesterday. She found the circle of dirt, sat, and summoned another alternate version of herself.
Then, breathing deep and concentrating, she employed the doubling technique to create two, four, and finally eight extra Baileys. Each time, the relative effort required was less, yet the cumulative strain of maintaining that many of them was enough so she could only do it for five or ten minutes at first.
She tried again, resting for a short while and then re-summoning the eight illusions. This time she stood up and again commanded them to shadow and imitate her. She jogged around the woods and leapt over fallen trees here and there, and drilled basic fighting moves.
The clones followed her with minimal errors for what felt like half an hour or so before she had to release them into oblivion. Then she sat, sweaty and winded, on a lichen-covered log, admiring the beauty of the woods.
Seven paces from her position, a glowing purple doorway opened in the air, and out stepped a tall man wearing a hooded coat.
“Fenris, you made it back,” she greeted him. “Hope things went okay back in Shiny Crystal Land. Things are pretty okay here. I was getting some more training in.”
The wolf-father smiled gently. “I was watching you from afar. You’ve grown by leaps and bounds in the brief time we’ve known each other—half a mortal year or less—and you continue to impress me. Each time you face a challenge, you set yourself a goal and push through to the next stage in your evolution. I’m proud of you.”
She felt like she was melting inside, hearing that, in a good way. She walked over and gave him a hug. “Thanks, old man. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Perhaps not,” he acknowledged. “But you’ve been a good student. Keep it up, and in no time, you will have perfect control over your new stores of magic. Managing so much power will be as natural to you as breathing.”
“That’s the hope,” she quipped. “So, uh, did Freya resign her post, or...”
His expression grew serious. “Not quite, but we’ll talk more of that later. Nothing terrible or drastic has happened, but something’s come up, and since the training grounds are still recovering from their losses, I feel we might take a short leave of absence.”
She separated from him and squinted. “To go where?”
“Home,” he stated. Turning, he dismissed the portal he’d come through and opened another in its stead. “Please, follow me. The trainers will not give you any trouble for taking one day off at a time when it’s permissible to do so.”
Though she looked forward to seeing Greenhearth and her family and pack again, she hesitated, thinking it would be better to tell Carl and the trainers first. Then she shrugged and stepped into the gateway.
After the customary rush of dizzying cold, she emerged on the familiar pine-covered slopes of Oregon with her equally familiar pole barn, backyard, and house before her. It was mid-afternoon, and the day was warm, muggy, and partially cloudy.
Kurt was standing at the edge of the yard, facing away from her and taking a leak against a tree while he whistled to himself and looked into the mountains.
Bailey waited till it looked like he was mostly done pissing before she shouted, “Hi, Kurt!” at the top of her lungs.
“Shit!” he shrieked, stumbling forward as he struggled to zip his pants up, then twisted around to see her and Fenris. He blinked. “Oh. Uh, yeah, hi. What are you doing back so soon?”
Bailey cracked up, and Fenris bowed his head and chuckled a bit. The back door opened, and Jacob and Russell appeared.
“The hell?” Jacob asked. “Hi, Bailey, glad you’re okay. What was that scream?”
Kurt fumed. “Nothing. She startled me. It happens to the best of us.”
Jacob nodded. “The best of us, yeah. And also you.”
“Shut up.” The youngest brother stormed past the other two into the house, presumably to wash his hands and check his underwear.
Bailey looked at Jacob and Russell. “Back on a break. Could use a home-cooked meal instead of all that magical food they’ve been tossing at us. Oh, and a shower. They’re operating at a fourteenth-century tech level in that place, so I’ve had to scrub myself with water from a damn pitcher.”
Russell said, “I thought you smelled different.”
She shook her head. “’Different’ is probably the polite way of putting it. Anyway, what’s for dinner?”
“Not sure yet,” Jacob replied, “but we’ll come up with something good. Come on in and tell us how things’ve been going. Oh, by the way, Roland took off to Portland to meet up with his friend. That little gothy dude, I forget his name.”
Bailey snapped her fingers. “Dante. Okay, well, I hope they’re having a good time or whatever.” She tried to hide her disappointment. Now that she was home, it struck her how much she missed Roland.
They all decided they were too hungry to spend a lot of time cooking, so they simply tossed a couple of frozen lasagnas into the oven. The hour it took them to bake would give Bailey time to clean up and talk things over with her brothers.
While she showered, Fenris confided in the three. “Bailey is doing well in her training. There are no problems there. She’s performing as well as I expected, if not better.”
Jacob laughed into his beer. “Sounds accurate.”
“There’s more,” Fenris added,
“but I would rather wait until she is present. She does not yet know everything. I will return shortly.”
Kurt screwed up his face. “You going back to Mount Olympus?”
“No,” the wolf-god replied, “up the hill. I don’t like lasagna.”
He walked out the front door and bounded up the slopes into the woods. When he returned forty minutes later, his breath smelled faintly of blood.
The five sat down at the dining room table, pouring Jacob’s semi-strong coffee into mugs as they waited for their meal to finish cooking.
Bailey kicked off the ensuing discussion. “All right, first of all,” she explained to her siblings, “some crazy guy tried to kill me, but we—me and a friend of mine—took him out. I’m sorry,” she went on as her brothers tensed up, “but trouble always seems to find me. Shitty-ass thing since he seemed like a decent guy at first.”
Jacob asked, “Why did he try to kill you?”
Fenris jumped in, explaining that the man was a disturbed berserker who wasn’t qualified for the excess trust and power Freya had invested him with.
“Wait,” Kurt pointed out, “didn’t Freya show up in town a while back and make a truce with you? Why’s she being such a bitch now? Sorry, Bailey.”
The girl shrugged. “She’s earning the use of that word if you ask me.”
“I don't know,” said Fenris. “I suspect it has to do with the pantheon resenting the ascent of a mortal such as Bailey to their level. That leads us to the next thing we must discuss. I spoke to the other gods about these incidents, and they agreed that Freya made a serious error and that Bailey should be given a chance to prove herself.”
Bailey inquired, “Yeah, but isn’t that what I’m already doing?”
The wolf-father shook his head. “Beyond that. They want you to appear before them, relate your account of all that’s happened, and then submit to trials and tests posed by each of them. Including Freya, who stands to lose her seat if you succeed.”
