by Ellie J Duck
“Agent Cane, this is Major Jeremiah Deans.” The Major’s voice interrupts before Agent Summers can say anything else.
“What’s she done now, Deans?” I hear Dad’s voice growl through the phone. The sound of it, even just through the tinny connection line, instantly calms me and makes me feel better. I don’t know why, but no matter how bad the situation, just the sound of Dad’s voice can soothe me and ground me in a way nothing else ever has. He might’ve spent more of my life in distant countries than he has with me, but he holds a power over me that no other ever has. Not only through the paternal and genetic link but also as the only person I’ve ever allowed myself to rely on in any way. I don’t trust anyone or anything the way I trust my Dad. Not even myself.
“Well, actually that wasn’t why I was calling, but she did attack two students last night,” Deans says. The bastard is always ready to rat me out to Dad, as though he’s going to berate me for it.
“What’d these two do to piss off my little girl?” Dad demands, earning a chuckle from Summers.
“The victims of her attack were her boyfriend and another girl from the school,” Deans says. He suddenly looks wary, realizing he’s about to tell a highly trained and utterly ruthless assassin that his little girl was cuckolded.
“That bastard cheated on my Anna?” Dad’s deep voice resonates through the phone with a menacing growl.
“Don’t worry, Dad. I was looking to ditch him anyway,” I say, knowing Dad will hear me even though I’m more than three feet from the phone.
“Did you teach him a lesson, darlin’?” Dad asks, clearly dismissing Deans from the conversation by talking directly to me, as the Major hands me the phone.
“Nah, I went the route of public humiliation. Punched him in the nose and gave him a concussion from the blow, and when he tried to make a fuss, I might have inadvertently broken his shoulder.” I grin. “I’d wanted to stab the jerk, but I didn’t really care that much. I was ditching him the minute I could blow this place anyway, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“And the female?” Dad asks, curious now.
“Knocked out cold and left exposed on the quad overnight. She’s got hypothermia,” I tell him, trying not to sound too smug.
“That’s my girl!” Dad says proudly. Agent Summers and I both laugh. “Is that Summers laughing in the background?”
“Yeah. He’s here to recruit me before I can hit the base across the city,” I tell him. “Claims he’s a friend of yours?”
“He is,” Dad answers. “Put him on the phone for a minute, would you?”
I hold the receiver out to Summers, who takes it with a grin. “Hey there, Magnus, how’s life?”
“Are you sniffing about ready to turn my daughter into one of your killers already, Greg?” Dad asks. He sounds menacing, but I detect an undercurrent of amusement.
“You know she’ll get tossed around the system the minute they unleash all of her potential. She’ll be better off with my team, safer with my team, and to be honest, we need her. You know my team have a unique skill-set, but we’re lacking someone with her gift for weaponry and it’ll do them good to interact with one not of their own.”
My ears prick at his terminology and I frown over the notion of ‘not one of their own’ and what it could mean.
“You better not let those “specialists” of yours give my girl too tough of a time, Summers,” Dad threatens. “If they do, I’ll be dealing with whatever pieces of ‘em are left once she’s finished.”
“You trained her well. I’ve seen some of her handiwork over the years. And she’s already giving me a hard time. I’m more concerned about what she'll do to my team than what they'll do to her,” Summers replies cheerfully. Apparently, he’s used to being threatened by the deadliest special agent in the world.
“Put Anna back on the phone,” Dad says gruffly. I grin to know that this Summers character can throw Dad a little off balance.
“I’ll be talking to you, Magnus,” Summers says. He hands the phone to me and sits back in his chair looking smug.
“Dad?” I ask when I don’t hear anything through the phone as I hold it to my ear.
“I’m still here. You going to take Summers up on his offer?” he asks.
This is what I love best about Dad. He doesn’t just assume that I’ll do it because he says I should or thinks I should. He doesn’t assume to predict what I might do, and I know that were I to say no to Summers – which is unlikely – he’d ask what I needed and tell me to not take shit from anyone.
“Maybe. Is he legit?” I ask seriously.
I must admit, I like the idea of joining a team where I’ll be tracking perpetrators down and taking them out. By the sound of what Summers said to Dad, he’s in need of someone with my weaponry skills. That’s a good sign. I don’t want to rock up and be pushing someone else out of a job. It becomes an occupational hazard when you’re planning to work with assassins.
“He’s legit, but it’ll be an eye opener for you, Anna,” Dad warns.
“Because I haven’t spilled blood yet?” I ask. Even though I’m trained to do so, I’ve never actually taken anyone out permanently just yet and it could be a bit of a black mark against me with whatever team Summers has put together.
“Well that, too. And this is important. Greg’s team is a little different to what you’re used to and there’s a whole lot more to the world than you ever believed there was. You’ll learn that in a hurry when you’re working with his crew and tracking down the targets Greg’s team hunts,” Dad explains.
“Is this why he keeps bleating about clearance?” I ask.
Summers smirks.
“Sure is. Soon as you’re cleared, you’ll know pretty much everything, and it might be a bit of a shock for you, darlin’,” Dad says. His voice is gruff through the phone, indicating to me that he’s worried about how I’ll react, and, no doubt, about what might become of me if I react badly.
“I can handle it,” I tell him sternly.
“I know you can,” he says with utter confidence. The sound of it pushes away the self-doubt that had begun to form at his moment of worry. Nothing messes with my head more than Dad worrying about me and not trusting me one hundred percent to achieve something.
“Guess I’d better take it then, and see what all the fuss is about,” I reply. I can’t help noticing the triumphant expression on Summers’ face and the look of disbelief on Deans’.
“That’s my girl. At least give Greg a shot. I’ll be back in the US in three months, so I’ll stop in at Greg’s base then and if they’ve been mistreating you, we’ll kill them all and go on the run,” Dad says, not even joking.
“You’ll visit me?”
“Of course, I will. I’ll give you some time to settle in before I show up and cramp your style,” Dad says. His voice deepens, going gruff, indicating that he’s uncomfortable and a little annoyed with me for doubting that he’d stop in and visit me the next time he’s home.
“I guess I’ll see you in three months then,” I say. I know he’ll be needing to get off the phone and back to his secretive life of taking out bad guys half a world away.
“I’ll be there, Anna. And listen, darlin’, when you take that first life, it’s going to change you. I know you can do it. You know you can do it, but if you need anything, I’ll be on a plane home to see you in a heartbeat, okay?” he asks. His voice lowers almost to a whisper so that the other two won’t be able to hear him through the phone.
I feel a lump form in my throat at the sentiment, realizing that he might’ve spent more time on the phone with me than face to face since I was eight years old, but my Dad knows me better than anyone. I might be trained as a weapons specialist and in the process of learning to become a hardened killer, but I’m still nervous and worried about what it might do to me. Taking a life. I harbor a secret fear that I might grow to enjoy the kill and go off the rails, evolving from the hunter of monsters to the monster myself.
“Promis
e?” I whisper back, turning away from both men in the room who have begun conversing softly at the change in tone of my phone call.
“Always, darlin’,” Dad promises me solemnly. I squeeze my eyes closed against the tears that threaten to overflow. An overwhelming urge to see him and hug him and have him tell me everything will be okay seizes me.
“You need me to kill that ex-boyfriend of yours?” he asks, almost like he’s changing the subject, as though he knows I’m having trouble holding back the tears at how badly I miss him. He’s always had a knack for it and I chuckle despite myself.
“He wasn’t worth the trouble it’d take to dig him a shallow grave,” I admit, still smiling.
“Better choose someone who’ll treat you right next time, darlin’, or I’m shootin’ the next one,” he suggests.
“I think I’ll have more important things to do than worry about boy drama, Dad.” I laugh quietly.
“Probably. Listen, darlin’, I’ve got to go. They’re hollerin’ at me on the coms that we’ve had a hit. Bad guys to kill.” I can hear the others on his team calling out in the background that they’ve found their target.
“Okay. Be safe. I love you,” I tell him. I’m unable to keep from blurting out the words in a rush, knowing that in just moments, he’ll be gone again.
“I love you too, Anna,” he says softly. “And, Baby?”
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Happy Birthday.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” I whisper just before the line clicks off. I hang the phone up slowly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
When I turn to look back at the Major and the Special Agent in the room, they are both watching me and waiting for me to speak.
“Guess I’d better grab my gear, huh?”
Chapter Two
Summers spends most of the flight to his base on the phone to different officials and from what I can pick up of the conversation, it’s all about getting me the proper clearance to join his team and to know what it is they do.
“Alright,” he says as we drive out of the Idaho army base airport following the three-hour flight from the Academy in an oversized Hummer, this one a particularly clichéd black. “So, you’ve been given the right clearance, and when we get to the base, I’ll get your passes all taken care of but for now, there are a few things you should know.”
“Which are?” I ask seriously, glancing at him from the passenger seat.
“The first is that everything you believe to be a myth is most likely true,” he replies.
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that monsters exist, and we hunt them down,” he says bluntly, glancing at me and no doubt seeing my skeptical expression.
“You’re telling me you’re a ghost hunter?” I ask sarcastically, hoping he’s trying to pull a fast one and that I’m not actually in the car with some nut-job being transported to his base with the other nut-jobs he’s convinced of this madness.
“Sometimes. Most of the time we don’t deal with ghosts. We deal with the corporeal beings that target humans. Meaning your vampires, shape-shifters, witches, fey, and mind-controlling psychics, that kind of thing,” Summers says brusquely. “My team hunts them down and makes sure they don’t keep killing humans.”
“I don’t believe in monsters and vampires and things. Is this a joke?” I demand, annoyed now and a little concerned for his mental health.
“It’s no joke, Agent Cane. This is the reality you live in and while most humans pretend it doesn’t happen, there are sectors of the government and the Special Forces, like my team, and like the team your father works for, that deal with these monsters when they become a threat to humanity.”
“You actually believe in vampires and werewolves and things?” I ask, shocked by how certain he sounds and how resolute he is.
“Yes. So should you,” he replies. “And if you don’t, you will. Very soon.”
I choose not to say anything to that. On some deep subconscious level, I suspect he’s right. There are things that simply can’t be explained in this world, and more than once over the years, Dad has mentioned the idea of hunting down some bloodsucker or a howler. I never really knew what he meant at the time and just thought they were creative names for whatever perp he was hunting down, but now I’m kind of thinking that maybe it was more than that. I don’t know why I feel inclined to believe Summers. I just met the guy a few hours ago, but there is something about his seriousness and his conviction on this matter that makes me think he’s not messing around or joking with me.
“So, monsters are real, huh?” I ask finally as we take a turn off the main highway we’ve been driving down at high speed. The adjoining road is twisty, with sharp turns that unsettle my stomach and threaten a revisit of my lunch.
“Yes, though most of them aren’t monsters. They’re not human like you. Most beings are normal, functioning members of society. Our team of the Paranormal Division only deals with those beings that go rogue and break the laws protecting humans. So, unless they start killing humans or manipulating their free will for perverted purposes, we stay out of it.”
I ponder that for a moment, supposing it makes sense that if such creatures do exist, there would also be a sector of the government dedicated to upholding laws of their society.
“Okay,” I say, choosing not to argue the issue.
“Okay?” he asks, glancing at me and making me uncomfortable as he takes another turn without watching the road. It’s clear to me that he knows every turn and so there is less danger, but that doesn’t make me any less terrified that I’ll die today because of a high-speed car accident.
“Okay. I’ll take your word for it, for now,” I elaborate, shrugging my shoulders.
“You’re not taking my word at all, are you?” he asks. “My guess is that Magnus has made comments which hint at the paranormal and you’re now realizing the depth and truth behind his slight remarks”
I don’t answer, not really needing to do so.
I’m kind of pissed that Dad has kept this secret about his life from me, but I suppose it makes sense. If I ever had a kid, I wouldn’t want to run the risk of having them tell tales to someone that I was a Special Agent. Someone who tracks and kills supernatural beings that snap their bolt and start preying on humans. Sounds like a sure-fire way to get the kid locked in a padded cell. Although, I’m still kind of wondering if maybe Summers belongs in one, too. I’m going to have to reserve judgement on that until I get some hard evidence that the supernatural really does exist.
Summers doesn’t say anything else either and we drive in silence in the gathering dark, flying around every twist and turn in the road until finally, amid the thick forest we’ve entered, buildings loom grey in the late dusk light. They are pale against the dark of the forest and obscured by the highest and most intimidating fence I’ve ever seen.
The gate that Summers pulls up to requires a scan of his palm, and of his retina before it opens. Standing twenty feet high and topped with razor wire, it is imposing to say the least. I notice there are signs hanging on the fence warning potential climbers that the wire at the top is also hot-wired with enough electricity to fry anything stupid enough to test it. I can only assume that whatever they’re for, it must have something to do with the fact that this team hunts monsters for a living and so requires extra protection.
I try not to think about the fact that whatever they are, they must have an aversion to electricity. Or about the idea that somewhere out in the thick forest there could be a monster lurking right now, just waiting to devour the newest, totally human addition to the group of what are basically ghost-busters. Of course, all of that becomes a non-issue when Summers drives us through the gate and I hear it grinding closed behind us, locking me inside with a deadly team of assassins.
“So, I should warn you….” Summers begins, glancing at me sideways as he drives toward a small carpark section where there are three other vehicles identical to this one sitting silently in the
late dusk. “The team might not be overwhelmingly welcoming. I didn’t tell them I’d be bringing back a recruit and they aren’t used to having anyone new around. It’s just been the five of us up until now…”
“Basically, you want to make sure that when they flip out and threaten to take me out, I’m not going to cry?” I ask him, rolling my eyes at the notion even as I exit the car and grab all my gear.
“Pretty much. They’ve never really dealt with humans before, outside of the occasional meeting on jobs… Do you need a hand with all that?” Summers asks me, eyeing the way I’ve draped both duffle bags over myself and then gone back for all my weapons and ammo.
“I’m good,” I shrug, itching to ask why he’s brought a human onto the team and to know what I’m getting into if the rest of the team aren’t human like me. “Which way am I headed?”
“This way,” he says, nodding toward a small concealed door that, like the gate, requires palm and retinal scans to unlock. He is hauling the rest of the gear he bought, including an arsenal of gadgets he insisted on purchasing on the way here.
When the door opens, and he leads me in through the base I raise my eyebrows in shock. It’s way more upscale than anything I’m used to. There is an entertainment area with a TV so big it takes up a whole wall and so many comfortable looking couches, bean-bags, and cushions that I can’t help but stare, slack-jawed with awe. Connected and partially looking into the indoor cinema is an industrial sized stainless-steel kitchen.
But so far, no sign of the team.
“Your room will be up here,” Summers says, leading me up a staircase and along a corridor with several closed doors on it. We go by a well-equipped communications room on the way and I marvel at the number of scanners and screens with all kinds of monitors running. There was nothing like this at the Academy. I can’t help noticing that no one is manning this room either and I wonder where the team is. I follow him to the end of the corridor where there is a single stainless-steel door. He stops momentarily as he turns the handle and pushes it open, revealing my quarters.