Come, Seeling Night

by Daniel Humphreys

  “Look, kid, this is a marathon, not a sprint. I appreciate your dedication, but if you burn yourself out before the mission kicks off, you’re no good to me. Take a few weeks off and come back on …” He turned and looked around for a calendar. “The 7th. That gives you Christmas and New Year’s week. Check out of your hotel room, get some fresh air.” He cocked his head to one side. “Visit your family.”

  I blinked at the suggestion, as it wasn’t something that had honestly occurred to me was a possibility—but it was, wasn’t it? There was nothing keeping me from getting on another plane, legally, this time, and doing just that. It hadn’t started snowing in DC, yet, but the temperatures were dropping like a rock and the sun was an absentee friend.

  Which was how, the next morning, I found myself walking up to the baggage claim at San Diego International Airport and trying to keep my feet while Carlos swept me up in a bear hug.

  “Why the hell didn’t you come sooner, hermano? We were starting to wonder if the men in black were holding you hostage again.”

  “Hostage to the job, maybe,” I grinned. “And I’ve been asking myself the same question ever since I got on the plane. Everybody all right?”

  “Ah, you know. You’re looking fit, dude. Not quite as emaciated as the last time I saw you.”

  I grinned. “Regular meals and not getting kicked around by ghosts and monsters is a big help. And a couple of hours a day with the tac team doesn’t hurt, either.”

  “Nice. Let’s get out of here.”

  Even with a career, I’d still kept my minimalist ways, and everything I needed was in a single suitcase. As soon as we retrieved it, we headed out for the parking lot and got on the freeway toward the office.

  “How’s it working out with Kent?” The temporary stay in San Diego had turned permanent—I guess knowing that any number of the cops he’d worked with over the past few years had done so under the influence of a cult leader channeling ancient magic made it easier to pull the pin and walk away.

  “He and Esteban spend all day busting each other’s balls, it’s awesome.” Carlos laughed. “It’s good, though, man. Felt weird, the feds cutting us loose like that, but it’s been smooth, you know? They even gave us our stuff back.” He glanced at me as he signaled for the exit. “Which isn’t the weirdest part.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Ever since we got back, things have been strangely easy with law enforcement. Downright respectful, even.”

  I hadn’t done much direct PI work with the guys before setting out on my own, but I did know that the cops basically regarded the guys as the equivalent of paparazzi with delusions of grandeur. And, to be fair, a good amount of what they did involved photography. Catching cheating spouses and disability fraud was the De La Rosa Agency’s bread and butter. But every so often, the guys had a chance to right wrongs—tracking down missing persons that fell off the police radar, for whatever reason, or more off-the-books recoveries when the involvement of the police wasn’t possible due to immigration status.

  I’m generally a law and order guy, but if it came down to choosing a side between someone with a shaky green card and a kidnapper for a cartel, I go with the green card every time. And every now and then, the agency had run into something that, until recently, we didn’t know law enforcement had the capacity to handle.

  Grinning, I said, “Well, I may have mentioned something to my supervisor about you guys showing me the ropes, and helping to keep a lid on some of the little beasties that creep in from the desert.”

  “It’s been quiet, lately. Everything has been fairly conventional. Which is how I like it. I got us a tee time tomorrow afternoon—you been staying loose?”

  “I haven’t played in months,” I groaned.

  “’S’all right. You know I’m going to win, anyway.”

  The best families—and friendships—don’t suffer from separation. My return to Esteban’s home was comfortable, lifting a weight from my shoulders that I hadn’t even known was there. I laughed more in the first few hours than I had since the night Mother took Cassie.

  With the thought of her, guilt crashed in on me, and I suddenly felt awful for enjoying myself. Who knew what she’d gone through and here I was—doing what? Waiting out the clock? I drifted away from the party and took a seat outside by the pool. The guilt and the shame turned into anger at Mother. Morgan was slowly teaching me how to use my emotions to fuel my magic. The way I felt at the moment, I could have phased a bulldozer through a wall and not broken a sweat.

  I’d only thought that my absence had gone unnoticed. Father Rosado settled into the chair on the other side of the table from me with a contented sigh. We sat in silence for a bit, watching the sun go down over the ocean.

  “You look good, Pax,” he commented finally.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Recovered, I hope?”

  “I get short of breath every now and then, but much better, yes.”

  “I’m glad—and I’m sorry. I should have been there to help.”

  He shook his head. “Nonsense. You were exactly where you needed to be.” Father Rosado smiled. “What are an old man’s lungs, weighed against the lives of two children?”

  “Well, when you put it that way.” I took a drink to give myself a moment to think. Division M wasn’t so much top secret as it was ‘don’t talk about stuff that’ll get you painted as crazy,’ because the agency would shrug and allow other authorities to haul agents who talked too much off to treatment facilities. Ghosts? Beats us, we’re Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms—better get that guy some Haloperidol. Very much a ‘the Secretary will disavow any knowledge’ situation. But if you couldn’t talk to a priest, who else could you talk to? “I hope that stays true. Because if I’m not in the right place at the right time this spring, it’s going to be bad.”

  “Still no luck in the search for your mother and Cassie?”

  “If the people I work with are right, Mother has taken her somewhere we literally cannot go. So, we wait.”

  “The ides of March,” he said. “Randolph Forest, she said.”

  “That’s the place and the time.”

  “And with the book, she will do what, exactly?”

  I tried to decide how to frame it, exactly, and settled for, “Cause the end of the world.”

  At this, he laughed. “Nonsense.”

  “I’m not being dramatic—”

  He cut me off. “I’m not laughing at you, son. Your Mother can’t end the world, magic book or not. That’s not in the cards.”

  “Well, the consequences of her plan seem pretty straightforward. Just saying.”

  “The world will end when it’s supposed to end. No sooner, no later, and not changing for any of our desires. We’ve got a whole book about that, you know.”

  “That’s the one where the dead are walking around?” I debated whether to tell him about Roxanne. She’d jumped at the chance to get out of DC, though she’d been scarce since I’d gotten to Esteban’s. “Seems to fit.”

  “’The day of the Lord will come like a thief at night,’” he quoted. “It might be bad, but it won’t be the end. And who’s to say that you or something else won’t stop her?” He shrugged. “Have faith.”

  “So far, faith’s batting about .500.” That came out more flip than I intended and I continued. “At least, I didn’t get quite as much help the second time around. I’m kinda figuring this one’s on me.”

  “And what will you do?”

  “Stop her.”

  “How far are you willing to go with that, son?”

  I frowned. “What are you asking? Am I ready to kill her?” I clenched my fists, digging fingernails into my palms. “Honestly, Father, I’ve been asking myself why I didn’t do it sooner.”

  “No one can hurt us so badly as the ones we love, Paxton. They know all our weak spots, after all.” He leaned closer, fixing me with a stare. “You can’t keep hate in your heart—it might sound impossible, but you have to find it in yourself to for
give her.”

  “You can’t be serious. You don’t know what she’s done! Killing my dad is just the tip of the iceberg. The stuff she’s done since she broke out of jail? Calling it evil is an understatement.”

  He shook his head. “You’re not listening to me. If you have to defend yourself, or one of your friends, and killing her is the only way? So be it. I know you’re hurting inside, and if it’s God’s will to stop her, you will. This isn’t about her—it’s about you.”

  I resisted the urge to sigh. “Is this some Jedi thing? Hate leads to the Dark Side?”

  He laughed. “Even better—it’s a Bible thing. Forgive us, Lord, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

  “I’ll try—” I began. His face brightened, and as he opened his mouth, I interjected, “if you drop Yoda on me, you’re going in the pool.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Paxton—Monday morning

  Washington, DC

  When I returned from the holidays, I had a new boss. For everyone else, it was a return to the status quo.

  Deputy Director Newquist had the look of a bodybuilder who’d suddenly lost a good deal of weight. Considering he’d been in a medically-induced coma since the day I’d escaped, he had an excuse. His smile widened as I entered the room a few minutes after the scheduled start, and he pushed himself to his feet with a bit of an assist from the conference table.

  “I’m glad we finally meet in person, Agent Locke.”

  “The same to you, sir,” I said. “Sorry I’m late.”

  The director dropped back into his chair after we shook hands. “Only the four of you, then, Valentine?”

  Val winked at me. “That’s the plan, sir. Clear out the town, Eliot, Paxton, George and I go hunting. Morgan and Arlan’s team are batting cleanup, with the National Guard providing perimeter security.”

  The director stared at the map pinned up on the wall and shook his head slowly. “Lot of moving parts. But I can’t see any other way to do it. No worries, I’m not going to undercut you on this one. You’ve got my backing. Where are we on Krist—the bomber,” he corrected himself.

  Morgan chimed in. “My contacts overseas are still kicking the bushes, but I’ve got a few leads developing. We don’t know who hired her, if anyone, but we should be able to track down the thing that impersonated Kristin.”

  “I look forward to having a discussion with it,” Eliot growled.

  “Be that as it may, Maine is our top priority at the moment,” the director said. “Work it as it comes, but it’s a secondary priority until we resolve this situation, understood?”

  We all nodded agreement. No one pointed out that if we didn’t stop Mother, we’d likely be too busy trying to stay alive to worry about catching the faux-Kristin.

  “Morgan, I read your report on your findings on the ritual over the weekend. Good work, there.” He turned and fixed me with an intense stare. “Agent Locke, can we count on you to do what needs to be done?”

  The room shifted uncomfortably, but I remained stoic. If nothing else, my talk with Father Rosado had gotten the butterflies out on this particular topic. “Call me Pax. What’s your preference, Director Newquist?”

  That made him blink, and I thought I saw Valentine raise a hand to cover his mouth out of the corner of my eye. The director frowned. “Clarify, please.”

  “I’m still working my way through the processes and procedures manual, but as I understand it, the Coolidge Order only applies to non-human entities. Putting aside my personal preferences, are we bound to bring her in alive? Does she get a trial?” I shrugged. “If she does, can we at least agree that she does not need to be in minimum security?”

  He stared at me for a moment, then said, “Lord, Valentine, it’s like listening to a recording of you. What have you done to this boy?”

  The others broke up in laughter, and after a minute, I joined in. “I’m trying to remain dispassionate about it, Director.” I hesitated, unsure whether to explain further, then settled for, “I had a talk with my priest about keeping hate out of my heart. Which is tough, when I keep thinking that we could have avoided this entire situation had I gone further ten years ago.”

  I could tell he wanted to know how much I’d revealed to my priest, but he let it go. “Understood. And in a normal situation, yeah, we’d strive to bring her in alive. But can you honestly tell me that your mother wouldn’t be a threat to others going forward?”

  “No,” I said, with zero hesitation. There was more than a little heat behind the statement, but the assessment was one of reason. Or so I hoped. Baby steps, kid. “I don’t care how deep a hole we put her in, she’ll never stop trying to get out so long as she lives. Based on what Morgan’s told me, that might be a good long while.”

  “I’d say that answers that question. As always, the final decision is in the hands of the agents in the field, but you have my word that I’ll back you, however it goes.”

  “Gosh, Russ, the way you’re talking, it’s like you don’t expect me to be around to make the call,” Valentine joked. “I’m not sure how I should feel about that.”

  “Well, depending on how things go, a geas could be faster than a bullet,” the director said. “Who knows what sort of spells she’s yet to use, or even picked up in the interim.”

  That was an unhappy thought that I’d had more than a few times, working with Morgan. Of course, what the director was polite enough not to mention was that based on our hypothesis, Mother didn’t need the others for the ritual. There was no need for her to pull her punches, so if things went badly, it was very likely to come down to the two of us.

  This time, you won’t pass out, I promised myself. You’re not that terrified kid, anymore. You’ve got this.

  Claudia, who I suspected had done the lion’s share of work helping Valentine to keep the place afloat during the director’s hospital stay, stepped into the conference room with a look of panic on her face. “Sir,” she whispered. “Senator Prince from the Oversight Committee is here to see you.”

  Director Newquist frowned. He glanced around the table, then said, “We’re about to wrap this up, Claudia. Go ahead and send him in.” After she’d left, he murmured, “Scoot over a few chairs, Pax. Let him sit there.”

  I moved and Valentine grumbled, “I’m surprised the asshole knows how to find the place. He seems to enjoy summoning us to hearings too much to dirty his shoes up coming down here on his own.”

  “Oh, something’s up,” Newquist agreed. “Do maintain your calm, if you please.”

  Valentine snorted. I stifled a laugh—he’d been called into Oversight hearings a few times since I’d come on board, and he always came back in a sour mood. I didn’t have to try to hard to imagine what it felt like to have your methods and activities called into question—but it couldn’t have been fun, coming from a panel of seven.

  Senator Prince was a tall, gray-haired man in a gray suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Every bit of him was long and lean, as though he’d been a man of normal build stretched out. That thought rose the hair on the back of my neck as I considered the Void, but he gave me only a passing glance as he swept into the room and took the seat I’d abandoned.

  Before anyone could greet him, the Senator spoke. “Director Newquist, I’m happy to see you out of the hospital. What makes me less happy are the phone calls I’ve been receiving from people back home.”

  I frowned, confused by the ‘home’ reference until I remembered that Prince was the junior Senator from Maine. Oh, shit.

  Director Newquist shifted to one side in his chair. “This is the first I’m hearing of it, Senator. I’ve gotten up to speed in the past week. If there are any concerns, we haven’t heard them.”

  “You’re hearing it now,” the other man snapped. “Is it correct that a joint exercise between Division M and elements of the Maine National Guard is scheduled for mid-March?”

  “Yes,” Newquist said. “We a
nticipate Helen Locke’s arrival to Randolph sometime around that time.”

  “Your Agent Valentine declared Ms. Locke to be one of the most dangerous threats to the security of the nation not all that long ago in a committee hearing. With no slight intended toward my fellow citizens, if she is indeed so dangerous, why are you only taking a single company of infantry to deal with her?”

  “My apologies, Senator,” the director said. “I believe you don’t have the entire story.”

  “Please, enlighten me.”

  “The elements of the National Guard will be used to enforce a secure perimeter and to assist in the evacuation of civilians from the area. We don’t intend for them to engage in direct combat. My team in this room is taking lead, there, with another tactical team in reserve.”

  Prince swept his eyes across the room. “Do you mean to tell me that this is your answer? Faced with what Agent Valentine glibly assured the committee was a potential ‘extinction-level event’, you’re sending in a couple of agents, a cripple, a kid, and an old woman?”

  “There’s no need to be rude,” Morgan murmured, but Valentine was less circumspect.

  “You Yankee son-of-a—”

  Newquist’s arm on his shoulder silenced Val, but the director’s own tone was even colder. “Senator, your position entitles you to certain information and historical documents. If you haven’t reviewed those documents, I would contend that you’re not fit to serve on the Oversight Committee and I’ll be bringing it up to the chair.”

  Prince sniffed. “I’ve read them. I know all about your crew of misfit toys, Director.”

  “Then you should also know the danger of underestimating my people.” Newquist leaned forward and pointed a forward at the senator to punctuate each point. “You send in a company of soldiers in to capture Helen Locke, you’re giving her dozens of loyal servants that will die if she orders them to. Kamikaze slaves with firepower. Needless to say, we regard that as an outcome we’d prefer to avoid. Paxton’s dealt with his mother in the past, on his own with no support. With backup, we should be able to contain the situation.”