by Renée Jaggér
She nodded. “That’ll do.” They washed their hands, ate, and drank.
Partway into the meal, Bailey told the mechanic about Loki’s appearance and all he’d said, and how she’d met Fenris right afterward and been unable to avoid teasing new meanings out of things he said.
“I’m not sure,” she confessed. “I don’t know what to believe. Fenris is...my friend, but I wonder now. I can’t help it.”
Gunney shook his head. “Shit on a shingle. Every time you get a concern, you come to me with something so crazy it makes the insanity from before look kinda reasonable. Well, if I see Fenris, I won’t say anything about any of this. First time I met him, he seemed...shady, at first, and yet, like you’ve said, he’s never really done anything but help us and be good to us. I don’t know, either.”
Her shoulders slumped. She’d hoped the mechanic would be able to give her a clearer answer.
“Well,” he continued, “I will say that it’s always best to worry about problems closer to home first. If bigger stuff comes down the pipe, we’ll deal with it like we always have. Start with the simple stuff.”
Bailey finished eating and crumpled the sandwich wrapper to toss into a nearby trash can.
Gunney gestured behind him. “For example, the remaining simple stuff that that thing needs done, such as rotating the tires. Me, I’m old and crotchety, my back’s going bad, and you’ll have to hear me bitching and moaning the whole time. Whereas, a young kid like you with wolf-shifter strength and divine powers should be able to make short work of it.”
Laughing, she stood up and completed the job while he watched. It was good to know exactly what she was supposed to do for once.
One of the younger agents, greener than Park, looked at Velasquez. “This shit’s real, isn’t it, sir?”
“Affirmative, Norman,” the senior agent replied. “You’ll see how real in a minute.”
Velasquez was the acting team leader for the current force, which numbered a dozen men including him, Park, and Norman. They had congregated in the sub-basement of the Agency’s HQ after suiting up.
All twelve wore silver-chrome breastplates and helmets over standard paramilitary body armor. They all carried weapons that resembled compact short-barreled rifles, the same bright hue as the armor, paired with wrist-mounted storage tanks. At their sides, they wore the Agency’s new anti-magic combat knives.
Velasquez faced the others. “Everyone ready?”
“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.
The team leader turned back to the device they’d set up. It had an expandable circular center and four pins attached to cords which they’d anchored to the four corners of the far wall. Counterintuitively, that had caused the central circle to stretch into a vertical oval the size of a narrow doorway.
Agent Park flipped a switch on a small remote, and the thing on the wall charged. Deep violet and bright magenta light filtered down the cords and swirled in the oval portion, which was specially calibrated arcanoplasm the Agency had harnessed for use in opening portals to other domains.
No one had tested it. This would be the Agency’s first foray into the Other under their own power. When Velasquez and his men had gone through before to aid in the fight against the goddess Aradia, they’d relied upon the abilities of supernatural casters to open the gate.
Velasquez stepped forward and put his hand on a dial on the side of the oval doorway. It was a key of sorts; the Agency had mapped enough of the Other to be able to track specific types of emanations. Referencing the tracking device in his other hand, he set the coordinates for the spot that was currently showing the largest amount of activity related to their recent monitoring of the eldritch crones.
The light grew brighter, then the swirling radiance within the oval gateway attained depth. It was no longer a flat object but a passage.
The team leader took a deep breath. “Maintain formation. After me.”
He stepped into the portal, hoping the boys in the lab hadn’t flubbed the technology. He was a brave man, but he had no desire to end up between dimensions or accidentally fall into a steaming pot of soup resting on Satan’s table in Hell. That would be bad.
Freezing cold swept through him, and there was a sense of dizziness and disorientation, then Velasquez’s foot connected with solid rock. He took three steps, then another, shook his head to clear it, and came to a halt. He could hear other agents streaming out of the doorway behind him.
They had emerged into the desolate wasteland to end all desolate wastelands. It was like the surface of the moon, though the barren rock that stretched for untold leagues before them was a concentrated red, whereas the sky was an angry bruise-purple.
Behind them was a flat plateau. In front of them lay a cliff’s edge, which opened onto a broad, deep canyon. Something was moving in the half-shadowed depths below.
“Well,” Park’s voice commented, “that was a hell of a rush. Only lasted a second, though. Christ, this place is like the Halloween version of northern Arizona, but I don’t think the canyon is quite as big.”
“Quiet,” Velasquez replied, though the air had a flat, dead quality which muffled the sounds around them. It made no sense since the open nature of the landscape meant any noise ought to travel for miles and echo for entire minutes.
The Other was not bound to the same laws of nature as the Earth.
At the team leader’s gesture of command, the dozen men moved forward, their boots making the softest of thuds on the lifeless stone as they advanced toward the precipice. The full vista of the dark red canyon below opened before them.
The gorge was impressive. Just as striking as the striated layers of rock plunging hundreds of yards below them was the shifting, squirming mass that filled it, the chaos of uncountable forms, all of them identical, milling around within a confined space.
Velazquez felt as though his stomach were sinking between his knees. “Shit,” he muttered as he checked the tracking device. It was beeping frantically, and the display screen had brought up so many red dots that it looked like a solid wall of scarlet.
The canyon was brimming with duplicates of Callie McCluskey in her loathsome semi-corporeal form as an eldritch crone. Ragged, translucent, hag-like forms were everywhere. Their estimate that she was creating a legion of clones had not been an overstatement. Velasquez guessed there was a minimum of three hundred down there, more like five.
Norman came up beside the team leader and gawked stupidly at the nightmare vision. “We’re fighting those things?”
Velasquez puffed himself up. “Not right this minute,” he stated, “but yes. We have the technology to eliminate them, but as you may have surmised, there are more than we expected. Attacking them now would be a gross error.”
“I agree,” said Park. “This isn’t Sparta. But we have to do something.”
“Of course,” the senior agent agreed. “If these things aren’t stopped and soon, they’ll launch their assault and overrun the entire northwest coast of America, possibly more. Averting stuff like that, gentlemen, is why our organization exists.”
He bade them retreat, and everyone filed back through the portal, reemerging in the mundane basement chamber. Velasquez shut off the gateway device as soon as everyone was accounted for.
He turned to his men. “Don’t get too comfortable. We will be moving soon, but we’re going to need help to take on that many of the fuckers.”
Nods of agreement went around the group. Even the boldest of them was ashen-faced.
“Fortunately,” Velasquez added, pulling out his cell phone, “I just happen to have a goddess on speed dial.”
Chapter Three
Given the nature of the discussion that was about to take place, Bailey sat at the head of the dinner table. It felt weird and borderline blasphemous. Normally the space was reserved for her father. He wasn’t home much since his various odd jobs and social calls took him all over the Hearth Valley, and sometimes into the mountains or hollows beyond. He often st
ayed where he was working for weeks or months at a time, but she still thought of it as his permanent place.
Nonetheless, this was a serious council.
Roland, the slender blond wizard from Seattle and her husband-to-be, sat at her right hand, and Jacob, the tall and square-jawed eldest of her brothers, at her left. Beyond them sat her two youngest brothers, Kurt and Russell. Kurt was of a height with Jacob though scrawnier, and Russell was taller, darker, and heavier than either.
In the middle of the table rested the remains of the pot roast they’d devoured for dinner. Empty glasses had been pushed to the opposite end from Bailey.
“Okay,” she began, “this is…not easy for me to talk about. Not in the slightest. But you guys are my trusted inner circle, and I need you to do two things for me. First is to listen and consider that this might be something major. Second is not to jump to conclusions too soon. I myself am still not certain. Do you understand?”
They all did. In their eyes, she saw concern, trepidation, and burning curiosity.
She opened up and told them everything. At first the words came out slowly and hesitantly; she was uncomfortable discussing the topic. Then the blockage passed, and the words spilled out in a quickening flood as the emotions behind them grew stronger.
When she mentioned Loki’s visit and all that he’d apprised her of, Roland seemed keen to offer his own commentary, but seeing that she needed to get it all out at once, he held back, waiting until she was finished.
She went on to describe her meeting with Fenris behind the house the previous night and spoke of the terrible thoughts that had filled her mind as everything he said took on a seemingly sinister new meaning in light of Loki’s report.
She concluded by reminding them that there was no way to be one hundred percent sure. Not yet.
“Roland,” she said, “I remember that you always were, well, standoffish with Fenris, even when I trusted him completely. Maybe you were right after all, but please do this for me. Don’t jump at the opportunity to get back at him or anything like that, because if Loki’s the one who’s lying, I’ll never forgive myself if we turn against Fenris for no reason. He’s…he’s done so much for me.”
The wizard nodded. “If what Loki says is true, Fenris has done it mostly for himself. However, as I wanted to say earlier, Loki is not the most trustworthy character in the old Norse legends. His suspicions line up a little too neatly for us not to consider what he said, but it’s possible that this is a masterstroke of misdirection on his part.”
“Yeah,” Bailey acceded, “that occurred to me. Which is why I’d say it’s important for us to be on guard and prepared, but also to keep playing along like everything is normal until we can find out more.”
Russell grunted. “Agreed.”
Kurt shook his head. “This crap is mind-boggling, but yeah, agreed.”
Jacob remained silent, his brow furrowed. Bailey asked him what he thought.
“I,” he began, then paused. “I just…Fenris is our god. He’s the father of werewolves. His whole reason for existence is to watch out for us. That’s the way it works, isn’t it?”
Bailey closed her eyes, feeling another stab of pain at the implications. “That’s how it’s supposed to be, yes, but it’s possible that everything will be changing for all of us soon.”
Roland put his hand atop hers, and she looked at him.
“Roland, I’d like you to get in touch with your friend—Dante, I think his name is. And anyone else you know from the caster community around here. We want to make sure that the witches are mostly still on my side and ready to act if we need them. I’m a goddess of your people as well as my own, but it’s better if they want to help.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Understood. I have contacts, and most witches hold me in pretty high esteem these days. If we can demonstrate that there’s a legitimate threat brewing, I’d say we can count on a significant number of them.”
“Okay, great. Jacob, and Kurt and Russell,” she went on. “You guys need to be my contacts among Weres. Talk to everyone around here, including anyone who knows wolves in other nearby areas, and maybe some of those people we helped awhile back from other parts of the country, too. Again, I’m not issuing goddess-orders. I only want to get an idea about if they’ll back us up if worse comes to worst.”
Jacob still brooded, so the two younger brothers spoke for the male Nordins.
“Shouldn’t be hard,” Kurt quipped. “Most of those guys kinda pledged loyalty to you months ago anyway, and you’re technically their goddess now, too.”
Russell said darkly, “We’ll do whatever we have to.”
Jacob finally nodded, though he looked dazed and unhappy.
As a sense of purpose settled in among them, Bailey spread her hands and concluded, “I truly don’t know what to expect, but there’s major trouble brewing, that’s for damn sure. Since if Fenris is innocent, that means that Loki is trying to turn us against him, and that’s equally bad. If we need an army, it’s better to have one on standby rather than try to assemble one out of thin air.”
Roland stood up. “I’ll call Dante as soon as we’re done here. Man, a possible betrayal between the gods and a battle amidst the pantheon. Come what may, at least it’s going to be interesting.”
Kurt remarked, “That’s not the term I’d use, but it’ll do.”
Bailey sensed rather than saw that she had a visitor. Sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes, and glancing at the clock, she saw that it was 3:02 a.m. Beside her, Roland lay in a deep sleep, snoring gently. She did not wake him up.
She climbed off the mattress and went to the window barefoot, looking out between the blinds. Standing on her lawn was a tall, hooded, broad-shouldered figure. He beckoned for her to come to him.
She stared down, then let the blinds fall closed and almost stumbled back into bed.
Go talk to him, she told herself. Every time he shows up, you’ve paid attention because it’s always something important.
The werewitch padded out of her room and down the stairs, taking care not to make any noise that would rouse her brothers. Gently, she opened the back door and eased out onto the damp grass.
Fenris turned to her, and they met halfway across the lawn.
“Thank you for coming out,” he began. “I didn’t want to disturb your family while they rest, but I must speak to you. Walk with me to the edge of the woods.”
She hated that it scared her to hear him say that. Absolutely hated it. Fenris was her teacher and friend, and he had never harmed her in any way.
“Sure,” she said and followed the wolf-god as he strode toward the north side of the yard, leaving the Nordin property and beginning to ascend the semi-wooded slope. They moved without talking, and there was a heavy, glum quality to the silence between them that bothered her.
Finally, Fenris spoke.
“This is difficult to discuss,” he began, and Bailey’s heart skipped a beat, “but one of your duties as a goddess is upon you. You knew that things like this could happen, of course. Dangers might emerge from places you’d never heard of; things most mortals have never heard of that can destroy them all the same.”
The girl inhaled and did not respond right away. Though what Fenris described sounded serious, he did not seem to be talking about anything pertaining to Loki’s efforts to inform against him.
Or to what Bailey had told her family and friends.
“What is it?” she asked. “Is it something we have to deal with right away?”
He stopped and turned to her, as they’d just now entered the forest. “I’m afraid so. There is another plane of existence being threatened by an influx of frost trolls. Perhaps you’d think that this was none of your business, but in fact, it means that Earth will be threatened if something isn’t done.”
“Frost trolls?” she sputtered.
“Not the frost giants from the legends of our pantheon,” Fenris clarified, “but bad enough. For various reasons, the barri
ers between realms have recently weakened, and dangerous creatures like them have been unleashed. The more peaceful and civilized peoples of the universes are threatened by incursions from creatures of their ilk, and when they’ve finished with their current target, they will move on to our world. We have a responsibility to stop them.”
The girl had not expected anything remotely like this. She felt as though she’d missed an important day of class right before a test. “How?” she inquired.
“By cutting them off at their source,” the wolf-father stated.
All of a sudden, Bailey found herself wishing for a nice cup of Russell’s coffee. “The source, meaning their homeworld?”
“Yes.” Fenris’s manner was growing distant, so he was probably getting ready to open a portal and plan his strategy of attack and defense. “They are dangerous, but by no means invincible. The two of us can deal with a great many of them.”
I don’t doubt it, Bailey thought. But if these trolls are such a big threat, then shouldn’t we be asking for reinforcements?
The wolf-god went on, “They are large—noticeably bigger than humans—and physically imposing and strong. They also resist magic. They’re not immune, but you will find that it takes more than usual to defeat them, so it will be like trying to channel in the Other before you learned to circumvent that domain’s limitations. Though frost trolls are tough, they’re not very intelligent, and their usual battle strategy is to act as juggernauts in a frontal assault. That is nothing to scoff at, so be ready.”
Sighing, the girl resigned herself to whatever was to come. Despite her suspicions, she had no concrete evidence that Fenris was acting on malevolent or dishonest motives.
He spread his hands while chanting, and a wavering doorway that looked like glowing amethyst liquid appeared in front of him.
“This,” he added, “will be an all-out, no-holds-barred fight. We will be struggling for our lives and those of our families and friends. Treating it as anything less risks leaving our realms open to the trolls’ onslaught.”
