There will be some innocent victims in this fight against magical Fascists. We are launching a major attack on the enemy; let there be no resentment if we bump someone with an elbow. Better that ten innocent people should suffer than one enemy of the worker get away. When you chop wood, chips fly.
—Nikolai Yezhov,
Deputy People’s Commissar for Special Affairs,
comments related to the resettlement of Actives
during the “Soviet Planned Population Transfer”, 1930
OCI Headquarters
It was like waking up from a two day bender, only judging from the dungeon-like surroundings illuminated by the single flickering light bulb hanging from the ceiling, this certainly wasn’t his old fraternity. Rust colored water was dripping down the brick walls and the floor was poured concrete covered in half an inch of dust. There was a single door, no windows, and he was alone. The last thing he could remember was being clobbered by Crow. He reached up to put one hand to his throbbing head, but a chain snapped tight against his wrist. “Ugh. Where am I?”
There was a noise, some movement, and a cough. “Francis?” The voice had come from the wall behind his back. “Is that you?”
“Yeah.” Francis had to be hallucinating from the head injury. Was there such a thing as auditory hallucinations? He didn’t rightly know. Getting hit so hard that you begin hearing dead people couldn’t be good. “Heinrich?”
“Mein Gott, it is you!” There was a scraping noise and the clank of chains. “They got you too.”
“You’re alive?”
The laugh was bitter. “For now, though I don’t know why.”
He was very excited to discover that one of his best friends had cheated death, but the circumstances of their reunion left something to be desired. Francis managed to turn his head far enough to see that there were small holes cut in the wall. His chains led through them, so he couldn’t fiddle with whatever they were tethered to. Heinrich’s voice was coming through the holes. “You’ve got no idea how glad I am to find you. Where are we?”
“I believe we are under OCI headquarters.”
“Hang on.” Francis concentrated on the light bulb to see if he could make it swing. Nothing. They had to be under the influence of one of Buckminster Fuller’s nullifiers. “Damn.”
“Using your magic? It doesn’t work here. A man named Crow said they have a device—”
“We’ve met. He’s the reason I’ve got a splitting headache.”
“A pleasant enough sort, for a statist secret policeman. I believe he will kill us as soon as we are no longer of use.”
“He’s a demon,” Francis said.
“Indeed. His kind always are.”
“No. Literally. He’s a Summoned.”
Heinrich laughed. “You must have gotten hit very hard.”
“I heard from one of the new knights that’s with—”
The chains clanked. “Quiet! Speak of no one else. Do you think they put us where we can talk to each other on accident?”
Francis shut his mouth and studied the walls suspiciously. Heinrich was right. They were probably listening. “Sure . . . Never mind.”
“I was wondering why they finally gave me food and water . . . They wanted me strong enough to have a conversation.” Heinrich sounded very tired. “I’m sorry, Francis. It is too late for many. They made me talk. Drugs and magic. I don’t even remember, but they stole names right out of my mind. I don’t even know who for sure, but I’ve put them in danger. This Crow, demon or man, whatever he is, he’s clever.”
“Trust me. The bastard grows horns and can fly. How long have I been here anyway?”
“An hour, maybe, since I heard them drag you in and chain you up. Not too long.”
There was a ring of metal on metal as his door was unlocked. “Shhhh.”
The door swung open to reveal Crow. “Afternoon, Francis.”
“Go to hell, demon.”
“That’s not fair.” Crow said as he came into the room. The door was closed behind him and relocked by unseen staff. This bunch sure didn’t take any chances. He walked over and stood under the light bulb, the brim of his hat shadowing his face. “I’m a person too. Born in Cleveland. Dad was a foundry worker. Mom died when I was little. Real sob story, you can fill in the blanks. I’m as much a human being as you are. Well, part of me at least. See . . .” Crow squatted down so they could see eye to red eye. He leaned in so close that Francis could smell the tobacco on his breath. “I’m just not as limited as you. I got more than one body that I can use. When one gets broken, I just get a new one . . .” Crow placed one finger softly on Francis’ cheek.
“Go fu—” and then Francis ground his teeth together as Crow slowly sliced his face open.
“You on the other hand . . .” The demon rocked back on his haunches, examining his open hand. His fingers ended in black needle points. Crow licked the blood from one and smiled. “Are so fragile.”
Francis face burned. He could feel the heat of the blood dripping down his chin. “What do you want, asshole?”
“I knew you had some fire in you. Knew it from the beginning. What do I want? What was it again?” Crow cocked his head to the side until it was at an unnatural angle. “I want to drink your blood and eat your soul,” he hissed with a voice that was unlike any Francis had ever heard before. It made him think of rusty nails and dried snakeskin.
This was no act. Crow was losing his mind. Francis cringed away.
Crow stood up. His hand returned to normal as he looked toward a sound that Francis couldn’t hear yet. The metal bar clanked and the door opened again. A man stood there, tall and wide, with the broad shoulders of someone who’d been strong in his youth, but the muscle had long since turned to fat. Wearing a pinstriped suit and carrying an ornate cane, he appeared to be in his sixties, with a long white mustache and unfashionably large, old fashioned sideburns. He came into the room and gave Crow a stern glance. “What are you doing here?”
Surprisingly, Crow dropped his head. “Questioning the prisoner, sir.”
“Get out,” the stranger ordered. He stepped out of the way and pointed his cane at the door. Crow strode from the room without another word. When he was gone, the stranger returned his attention to Francis. “My apologies, Mr. Stuyvesant. You see, Mr. Crow has been under a great deal of stress lately. I’m afraid it has been getting to him.”
“He’s insane.”
The man shook his head. “Only sometimes, and that is entirely dependent on the nature of the body that his mind is currently inhabiting. I’m afraid some can be worse than others.”
“He’s insane and he’s dangerous. You’re playing with fire.”
“Yes. Fire is dangerous, yet if man had never harnessed its power we would still be living in caves. Electricity is dangerous,” he reached up with his cane and tapped the light, making it swing and cast wild shadows. “Yet, we harness it for all of our modern technological marvels. Why, Mr. Stuyvesant, should magic be any different?”
The odd fellow seemed vaguely familiar. “Do I know you?”
“We’ve met briefly, but it was a very long time.” He rested his weight on the cane, and took a white handkerchief out of his suit to wipe the sweat from his face. “Excuse me. Far too many stairs for a man in my condition. I should have an elevator installed. Yes, we have met. You were but a child. I knew your father, was friends with one of your uncles, and an acquaintance of your grandfather.” He started to put the handkerchief away, then took note of the cut on Francis’ face. Clucking disapprovingly, he came over and gently pressed the cloth against the cut. “Oh, Mr. Crow . . . He’s something of a project of mine. Here, keep pressure on that.”
There was just enough slack in the chain for Francis to tilt his head and keep the handkerchief in place to stop the bleeding. He winced as the cut burned. “Who are you?”
“Bradford Carr. Do you remember now?”
Francis was drawing a blank. “What are you?”
He chuckled. “I’ve held a few titles in my day. In my military days it was only Captain. For the longest time it was Doctor, or Professor of magical studies at the University of Chicago, briefly Ambassador. Most recently, it has been Senator, and since last summer when Herbert Hoover saw fit to the appointment, I have been the Coordinator of Information. I was after all, the most qualified applicant for the position, since I have made the study of magic my life’s work. However, since my current assignment is one of utmost secrecy, let’s just keep that between ourselves.” Carr smiled. “Does that answer your question, Mr. Stuyvesant?”
Now he remembered. Carr hadn’t been as grey or as fat back when Francis’ father had replaced him as ambassador to Japan. He too, had known about the Chairman’s schools. “You dirty bastard. You were on the Imperium payroll, too.”
Carr clucked disapprovingly. “You’re smarter than that, Mr. Stuyvesant. Do not make the mistake of thinking that just because I studied the Imperium ways, meant that I was in their service. I had a friendly relationship with the Chairman, and of course many of the things I observed went unreported, but that was necessary to further my own research into the nature of magic. The Nipponese were merely unafraid to delve into mysteries that my own countrymen would not. As a scientist and a philosopher, I would have been foolish to ignore all of the valuable knowledge they’d gained.”
“The Imperium schools are evil!” Francis shouted. He’d seen the horrors with his own eyes. There had been torturous ordeals to bind non-magical people to the Power, and even worse experiments to create stronger Actives. His family hadn’t cared, as long as the gold kept flowing, and that’s what had driven Francis away from them and toward the Grimnoir, who were brave enough to do something about it. “Anyone who can’t see that is a fool.”
“The Imperium schools are a necessary evil. The Power must be studied, harnessed, and controlled for the good of all mankind. It is selfish to think otherwise. Power is a resource that must be properly managed, just like any other. If a nation cannot control its own resources, then it will fall into the dustbin of history.”
“Those are people you’re talking about, not some nebulous things.”
“Exactly my boy!” Carr wagged his cane at Francis. “And that’s why the United States has lagged so far behind others in this regard. We, as a government, have lacked the will to take control for the greater good because of a naive faith in the individual. As it stands now, all of our useful magic is being squandered on foolish pursuits. Wasted by individuals who think only of themselves and not of the rest of society. Just imagine what could be accomplished if these resources were managed in a scientific way!”
“You mean slavery.”
“An emotionally loaded choice of words.”
“You take someone’s freedom and tell them what to do. Sounds like slavery to me.”
“I’m talking about the greater good, for both normal mortals,” Carr touched one big hand to his chest. “And you! This is for your own protection. An individual with magic is capable of causing much harm. They are dangerous at worst and wasted at best. I have a vision for a greater tomorrow, where the miraculous Power is used for the betterment of all. My vision—”
“Like the Imperium? Like the Soviets? Are you going to cull the herd like them? Experiment on the weak? Breed the strong?” Francis was furious. “The unworthy go to the schools or the gulag? Fuck your vision.”
Heinrich’s voice came through the wall. “We had a politician that preached eugenic nonsense like this in Germany, Hitler was the name, if I recall it right. We put him against a wall and gave him the firing squad. I’d suggest we take up that tradition here, Francis.”
Francis looked Carr square in the eye. “That sounds like a fine idea, Heinrich.”
Carr’s face turned red. “I was hoping for the sake of your family name that you would listen to reason. Your father was a fine man. I felt I owed him enough to at least try.”
Francis was no politician or philosopher, but he had a finely tuned sense when it came to detecting bullshit. “Your reason, science, whatever you want to call it, is a sham, a two-bit hustler’s scheme. This is America. The government doesn’t own the people. The people own the government.”
“You would be surprised to learn how many very important men disagree with you on that point, Mr. Stuyvesant. Once my operations are complete, the rest will have no choice but to come around. They will come to understand that Actives must be controlled. It only takes one great visionary to change the course of a nation.”
It all became clear. The assassin’s ring, the mystery spell, the newspapers, the manhunt, everything. “You’re the one that set us up . . . You’re the one that tried to kill the president.”
“If only that had been enough.” Carr just smiled. “Recent events have forced me to expand my ambitions. It seems that this deadly Grimnoir terrorist group is not happy that they failed in their last attack. I have warned the cabinet that we believe they are plotting another attack sometime very soon. I’m sure it will end tragically.”
“You bastard . . .”
“Would you like a preview of the newspapers a few days from now? I find I’m rather good at predicting these sorts of things.” Carr cleared his throat. “Many innocents were murdered by mad Actives last night. Luckily, during the aftermath of the attack two leaders of the foul Grimnoir organization were intercepted and killed by brave OCI operatives. One of them had a manifesto on his person detailing how they would continue to kill Normals until the Active race rises up, throws off the shackles of oppression, and takes their rightful place as world leaders, since they are the superior evolution of man. Everyone will be shocked and saddened to discover that this cabal is being led by a well known industrialist, Francis Cornelius Stuyvesant.”
Francis was so angry he couldn’t form coherent words and instead emitted a growling noise.
“The rich make such convenient villains, don’t you think? Half of society already hates you for the station you were born into. Your peers will be embarrassed that you’ve endangered the status quo. Your name will become a symbol synonymous with tyranny. It is already in the papers how some of your underlings tried to enlist Smedly Butler’s help in overthrowing the government.”
“Who?”
“That’s priceless” Carr chuckled. “A political opponent of mine, a retired general with far too much integrity to ever fall in with such a plot. Oh, but questions will remain. How deep do the roots of your cancerous organization grow? Everyone knows when you pull weeds, if you only take the top, they grow back. You must dig up the roots. Drastic measures must be taken to find all of the Grimnoir sympathizers amongst the Active race. Controls will need to be put into place, for the greater good. Once it begins, it will not end.”
Francis threw himself against the chains. They didn’t budge. “You’ll not get away with this! Someone will find out the truth.”
“Who? If your allies come here they will be walking directly into a trap that Mr. Crow has very capably set, and I’ll have more Grimnoir bodies to deposit at the scene. None of my men will talk. The majority of OCI’s staff are simple recruits who know nothing of my plans. They are pawns that I will use to round up those that trouble me. The men I have stationed here are absolutely loyal, hand-picked because of their personal hatred for your kind, and they are as committed as I am. No one will talk. None of my colleagues know my plans, and even my political enemies would never guess how far I am willing to go . . . That’s because they don’t get the big picture.”
“You’re going to pay.”
“You are in no position to make threats. I tire of this.” Carr walked over and rapped his cane on the door. It was opened for him. “Good bye, Mr. Stuyvesant. We will not meet again. You will be dead in a few days.” He strolled out of view and the door slammed shut behind. The heavy latch fell into place.
Francis waited to make sure Carr was gone. “Heinrich?”
“We are in far more trouble than I thought, my friend.”
Crow waited for his superior in the hall. He knew he was in trouble. The boss had seen him losing his cool. This was only a minor Summoned, but it was a mean one. The alien thoughts were pushed back to the rear of their shared mind, but they were all about stalking and killing prey. Back when this particular Summoned had its own form, it must have been quite the vicious little predator. That was completely unacceptable. If he got in any more trouble, the boss would yank the spell he’d been given. Crow was not ready to go back to being a nobody.
Fuming, the fat man hobbled down the hall on his cane, flanked by his two personal bodyguards, Sharps and Deych. They were Normals, but they were both bruisers and handy with gun or blade. Like the rest of the men stationed at headquarters, they were magic haters, recruited personally by the Coordinator from various militant anti-Active groups like Human’s Only or the League for a Magic-Free America. They hated Crow as much as they hated all Actives, but as long as he was seen as the Coordinator’s tool, they left him alone. These men were scum, but they were reliable scum. They’d caught the Coordinator’s vision for the future.
Crow didn’t give a shit about anybody’s grand dreams. He played a part, and in exchange got something that benefited him. Right now he was going to have to play the part of eating some humble pie.
“Sir, I’m—”
The Coordinator raised one bushy eyebrow suspiciously. “It’s quite all right, Mr. Crow. I assume you were just putting the proper amount of fear into the boy, correct?”
That was a surprisingly opportune way out. Doctor Carr had to know the truth, he was way too smart not to, but for whatever reason he was letting it go. “Yes, sir.” He looked over at the bodyguards. Even wearing the body of a lesser Summoned, he would have easily been able to whip them and get away. However, the Coordinator knew where his real body lived, and knowing the old man, he’d probably hedged his bets. This was his lucky day after all. “Just scaring him a little to get him ready for you.”
“Excellent work. However, the Stuyvesant predilection for self-preservation must have skipped a generation. His forbearers would have leapt at any out I offered to save their own skins. The boy is an obstinate fool. We’ll use him as we discussed. Have you had any luck capturing any of the others?”
“Not yet, but I’ve baited the trap.”
“Walk with me.” The bodyguards fell in behind them. “You used the Justice?”
“I gave her just enough rope to hang herself. She plays like she’s hard, but she’s too much of a goody-two-shoes at heart. She knows about the German and she knows we’ve got exonerating evidence. She went off the reservation a little while ago, which means now they know too. The Grimnoir will try something. I guarantee it.”
“Do we have enough nullifiers?”
“Four on site and the big one upstairs. The EGE packages were delivered this morning, and everything seems to be working fine with them.”
“Excellent. When the time comes, send the men first. Those robots were expensive.”
They paused at the stairs. The old man needed a breather before tackling them. Crow could smell the bodyguards’ fear as they watched him. They were pathetic. Sure, they thought they were tough, but they were nothing. The Coordinator’s inner circle were all true believers, thinking they could control Actives. Sharps had been a prize fighter until a tiny Active had whipped him. Some of them, like Deych, had been Carr’s students back when he was a professor, going on and on about how someday they would see his idealized world. It was tempting to just reach out and pluck their eyes out, then they wouldn’t see shit, but Crow refrained.
“I want this expedited, Mr. Crow. I want to proceed with the next attack as scheduled. I have to keep up the pressure. If we do not strike while the iron is hot, then my political allies will lose their will and all this work will have been for nothing.”
“I’ll spread the word that we’re going to start executing prisoners tomorrow. That ought to get their attention.”
“Excellent idea as usual . . . Make it two days.”
“If it feels too rushed, they might just chicken out.”
“Exactly. Let them plan, but not for too long. Let them bring in reinforcements. I want all of these meddlers dead. The nail that sticks up must be hammered down. Remember, the only one I care about capturing alive is the Traveler girl. She is a valuable anomaly. If she truly inherited Warlock’s magic, I can only imagine what I could learn from studying her.”
Dissecting her, you mean, but Crow held his tongue. “My pleasure.”
Hartwood, Virginia
It was a small town, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t being watched. Hammer drove around the country store once before coming back and parking near the telephone booth. She was still driving a stolen car, and the last thing she needed was to be picked up by the law for something stupid. Since the coast was clear, she got out and walked quickly to the payphone. If she was gone too long, Sullivan would get suspicious. The Grimnoir were extra jumpy since another one of their own had gone missing.
Her argument had made sense. If she kept checking in periodically with the OCI like she was supposed to, then they wouldn’t get suspicious. If she went silent, then they’d assume she’d been killed or compromised. Surprisingly enough, Sullivan had agreed with her, and not even had anyone ride with her to make sure she wasn’t selling them out. For someone in a rough line of work, he seemed remarkably trusting, but she wouldn’t have been surprised to discover the farmhouse abandoned by the time she got back.
Hammer dropped in the coins, got the operator, and gave the number that Crow had supplied. The connection wasn’t very good. She got a man that didn’t identify himself, and when she asked for Crow, he told her to hold. Two minutes of background echo later, Crow answered. “Hammer? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I lost the trail for a while, but I’ve picked it back up.”
“We found your car.” Truth. “I was worried you’d been hurt.” Lie.
“I thought they’d spotted me at one point, so I switched vehicles. I was wrong, though. It wasn’t them.” For somebody with magic based in truth, she could be an extremely convincing liar.
“Where are you?”
She scanned the empty road and the quiet store. There were no witnesses, but he had a government agency full of professional investigators. Surely he’d have somebody talk to the operator to figure out where she’d connected from. “Northern Virginia, but the trail’s cold here. They’re a day or two ahead of me and heading south. I’ll check back in when I get closer.”
“Fine. Try to wrap it up. We’re about through with him. The German’s been scheduled to die in forty-eight hours.” Truth. “So new sources would be helpful.”
“I’ll do my best . . .”
There was a sudden thump against the glass. Hammer jumped. Somebody was right outside the booth and she had no idea how’d they’d gotten there. A pair of grey eyes were gleaming at her from under a gigantic straw hat. It was the Traveler girl. Excited, Faye jerked the door open and Hammer instinctively put her hand over the mouthpiece. Faye mouthed the word Wait!
Crow was saying goodbye. She uncovered the mouthpiece. “Wait,” Hammer said, then covered it back up.
“Ask about Francis!” the Traveler whispered.
“What is it?” Crow asked.
“One thing . . . Just thought of something. I saw in the papers about that rich guy in New York. Stuyvesant?”
“Yeah?”
“Was that one of our captures?” She liked the choice of the word our. It made her sound like a team player. “I mean, it identified him as Grimnoir. Did we get him, or do I need to be on the lookout for him too.”
“We got him,” Crow said proudly. “He’s downstairs with the German.” True.
“Okay, good to know.” Hammer looked at the Traveler, who was nervously biting her lip. “I’ll be in touch.” She hung up the phone. “They’ve got your friend. The German dies day after tomorrow.”
“Gosh dang it.” Faye wandered off, hands on her hips, and kicked the brick wall of the corner drug store. “I told him not to do anything stupid. Now I have to go save him too.”
“You followed me.”
“Of course,” Faye said indignantly. “I’m not dumb. I wanted to see if you were going to fink us out.”
“And if I had?”
The Traveler just smiled, weird grey eyes narrowing. “Bad things would have happened.”
“What are you, twelve? Are you threatening me, girl?”
“I’m eighteen . . . I’m pretty sure.” Faye folded her arms indignantly. “Listen, lady. Mr. Sullivan said that your magic makes it so you can always tell when folks are lying. So try this one on for size. If you had told Crow where to find us, I would’ve killed you extra hard. I would have killed you so fast that you wouldn’t have seen it coming. I’d have killed you and made it extra messy as a warning to anybody else that was hunting my friends, unless I decided to make it look like an accident, because then I’d have just Traveled you over in front of a truck and left you there . . . Basically, lady, you do not want to mess with me.”
The terrifying little girl was absolutely telling the truth, and it didn’t bother her in the least. “How many people have you killed?”
Faye shrugged. “I’ve lost count. Around a hundred or so, give or take twenty. It can get pretty confusing sometimes and I don’t always stick around to see if they’re all the way dead or only mostly. So, you mind if I ride back with you? Travelling to keep up with a speeding car is hard work and I didn’t sleep much last night so I’m plum tuckered out. Come on. Not magic tired, that’s fine, I mean my body is tired.” Faye began walking for Hammer’s car. “What? Come on already. We’ve got a lot of work to do. It’s going to be a super busy day.”
“You just threatened to kill me . . .”
“Only if you were a fink, but you didn’t tell on us, which makes you okay far as I’m concerned, so now we can be friends. Hurry up, Pemberly. Can I call you that? Pemberly is a real pretty name.” Faye opened the passenger door and climbed in. “Don’t make me start honking the horn. I’m a fugitive you know and that’s very embarrassing.”
Hammer followed the strange girl and got into the car. “Back to the farm?”
“Nope. The others just got back, so some of us are going on a top secret mission. I think Washington is supposed to be that way.” Faye pointed the wrong direction. Hammer pointed the other way. “Okay. Great. I’ve never seen Washington D.C. before. We’ve got a jail break to plan!”
Bell Farm, Virginia
She woke up riding in the military truck. The rumble of the Big Fight was silent for the first time in days. Somewhere behind her, everyone she’d ever known was gone because of the killer with grey eyes. The man that saved her noticed she was awake.“My name is Jacques Montand.”
She tried to talk, but her voice didn’t want to work. Finally, she was able to squeak out, “Are you a policeman?”
He could probably barely hear her over the loud engine, but he shook his head. “No. I lied to those American soldiers. My papers are forgeries. I am something different, though we also try to help people, just in a different way. Especially people with magic. I have magic and I can tell you do too. So now I’m going to try to help you. Do you have any other family? Friends I can take you to?”
She shook her head no.
“I would offer to drop you off at your local church, but it appeared that a dirigible from the front has crash landed on top of it.”
“I have nobody,” she whispered. “The monster took them.”
“Yes, he was a monster. His name was Anand Sivaram. We called him the Warlock. He’d cursed himself with a terrible spell. It was that spell that made him what he was and you were very brave to face him. Very brave, indeed. He’s gone now . . . What is your name, child?”
“Colleen,” she answered softly.
“What? I’m sorry. I can’t hear you. You will have to speak up.”
She tried again, but her sadness caught up, and then she couldn’t talk anymore.
“It’s alright. You are very quiet. It is fine to be quiet if that makes you more comfortable.” He turned to her and tried to give a consoling smile. “How about for now, I simply call you Whisper?”
Her eyes opened. Sad memories of her seven year old self were replaced by her twenty-two year old present. Whisper sat up in bed and listened. The decrepit farmhouse was silent. The second floor felt empty. Most of the others had left on a fool’s errand. She had told them that she was exhausted from the drive and needed to rest, and that was mostly true, but there was also another matter she needed to attend to privately.
There was a mirror in the bedroom, but it had been cracked long ago. It didn’t matter, though, since she found one corner that was large enough to work on. This particular door did not have a lock, so Whisper braced a chair against it. She had the glass shard prepared in a minute. The Grimnoir elder that had sent her on this mission appeared quickly.
“Whisper. Oh, thank God. I was worried.”
“I’m fine, Jacques.” She had to smile. He had always been quick to worry about her. “You taught me too well. It’ll take more than one gigantic demon to do me in.”
“You were a fine student and an even better knight,” he said proudly. “But an old man is allowed to fret over our loved ones. That’s what we do best.” His manner turned grave. “Any new developments with the Spellbound?”
Whisper noted it was no longer Faye or even the Traveler, it was simply the Spellbound. “She’s growing stronger again. She used a spell like the one we are using now to check ahead for danger and then Travelled several hundred miles in one jump.”
“Unbelievable. I assume she was close by when George Bolander died?”
Whisper nodded. “He was a brave man, with a very strong connection to the Power. What did the other elders have to say about my report?”
“They believe that we should wait and observe. If she does not realize the extent of her abilities, then perhaps she will not be tempted to grow them to a dangerous level. Though she is cursed, she is also innocent of any wrongdoing, and they felt that any preemptive action was unconscionable.”
“And what do you think?”
Jacques looked away. He was a just and decent man, but he alone among the elders knew what they were truly facing. He had spent much of his life studying the Warlock, tracking him down, and eventually destroying him. No one in the Society knew more about the dangers of that awful curse than Jacques. “I voted to eliminate the Spellbound immediately.”
The answer was sad, but expected. “Do not call her that. She is more than her curse. She is a person. She has a name. Faye is a good girl. She is kind, generous, and brave. I am honored to call her my friend.”
The man that raised her shook his head sadly. “So you agree with the elders then? Leave her be as she grows increasingly unstable and dangerous? I do not like it, but I will follow my oath and abide the decision. I just did not expect you to agree so readily.”
Whisper surprised him. “There is no agreement.”
“I do not understand.”
“If you are prepared to kill someone, you should at least have the courage to call them by name. This choice should not be easy. I do not wish to make my decision lightly. Her name is Faye and she is good . . . But she is dangerous. When the natural progression of things was not quick enough, how many people died by Warlock’s greedy hands?”
“There is no definite answer . . . Hundreds for certain. Perhaps more. India, Persia, Turkey, across North Africa, finally France . . . We followed him by the corpses left in his wake. How many others did I not see with my own eyes? Who can say?”
“And if you had not tracked him down at the cost of so many of our people,” Whisper said, obviously meaning both her family and the knights that had been under Jacques’ command. “If he had been able to soak up the million slaughtered at Second Somme . . .”
“He would have been unbeatable.” Jacques was concerned, and he was right to be. “What are you suggesting?”
“How many lives could have been saved if the Society had known about Warlock’s research earlier? What if they had moved against him sooner?”
“We did not know about him until it was too late,” Jacques answered quickly. “I know what you are thinking, but the elders have spoken. Whisper, please—”
“How many orphans will the Society’s inaction create this time?”
“You will do nothing!” Jacques shouted. “The decision has been made. She is not to be harmed.”
Whisper turned away from the mirror. “Very well . . .”
“Whisper?”
“I will not harm Faye.” She would not look at him. “My observation mission is done here, then. What would you have me do, elder?”
The use of his title stung. “Come home, please. Things are becoming too dangerous in America.”
“Do you doubt my skill as a knight now, as well?”
“Of course not!”
“There is much to be done here, then. I would like to assist until the Society’s name has been cleared of these crimes, and after that, I am convinced that the concern about this Enemy being is legitimate. I think my Power will be of more use here than at home.”
“I . . .” He hung his head in shame. “You have always been a very headstrong, but brave girl. Very well. Be careful. Anything you need, please let me know.”
“Goodbye, Jacques.”
“I know this is difficult and it seems as if no one understands your loss, but I do,” he said as the spell faded away. “Farewell, Whisper.”
He was gone. Wrong answer, Jacques. What do you know about loss? She had been forced to lie to the man who raised her as his own child. Furious, Whisper tore out the corner of glass and dashed it against the floor. “No more orphans, Jacques. I will allow no more.”
