The Fae Killers Compendium

by Jaxon Reed

  “Wouldn’t it be Texans if it came from your embassy?” Rick asked, with an innocent expression.

  Maples scowled back in reply. “Whoever it was, my counterpart at our embassy in New York swears it did not come from one of her people. Is your name really Rick Strickland?”

  Rick nodded. Maples lifted an eyebrow at Smitty, who also nodded.

  She said, “Alright. What do you propose doing, Mr. Strickland?”

  “I’d like to try and send a message back on the same frequency. Or cable, or whatever.”

  Maples nodded and turned to walk down one of the rows of tables. The others followed. Over her shoulder she said, “Lena is in charge of the New York line. She doesn’t stay very busy, anyway.”

  They stopped at the space occupied by a pretty blonde who looked up as they approached. Rick realized with a start she was the doppelganger of one of the women he had met on his home alternate.

  Maples said to her, “Take his message and key it in.”

  Lena nodded and looked up expectantly at Rick, pencil in hand, ready to write down his words.

  Rick paused to think then said, “Cait, this is Rick. Message received. Please advise.”

  Everyone waited patiently as Lena typed in the message on her teletype’s keyboard, glancing at the notepad to ensure accuracy.

  Smitty said, “ENIAC will take the basic text and encode it. Then it travels by cable to New York where its counterpart will decode it for the staff there. We should know in a few minutes if the message was received, by, uh, Cait or whoever.”

  While they passed the time waiting, Rick struck up a conversation with Lena. He said, “So, ever been to Tennessee?”

  She laughed and said, “Oh, no. I’ve never been on the other side of the Mississippi. There’s not much over there but farmland and wilderness, from what I understand. I’m a California girl. Born in San Diego.”

  “Oh. So, California is a state . . .”

  “A state of Texas, yes. It’s part of the republic.”

  “So, is there is a, uh, state named Texas in the republic . . . or, how does that work?”

  “Oh, yes. The original territory is still called Texas, but the other states are all part of the Republic of Texas. You aren’t from there? Your accent seems normal. Where are you from?”

  “Uh . . . New York, I guess. It’s hard to explain.”

  “Oh. Well, you don’t seem like an American.”

  “What are they like?”

  “The ones I’ve met have all been country bumpkins. You know, they wear stained overalls. They’re smelly. They chew tobacco and spit everywhere.”

  She shrugged and smiled. “They’re not too sophisticated.”

  “They can’t all be simpletons.”

  “Oh, they’re not simpletons. Some of them are quite intelligent. They’re just . . . ‘agrarian’ is a good word for them. You know. Country folks.”

  A teletype clattered in the corner of the room, interrupting their conversation.

  Lena said, “Oh, that’s mine. Let me go see what your response is.”

  She returned a moment later with a printout and handed it to Hilary Maples who glanced it over, then handed it to Smitty. He read it quickly then handed it to Rick. Angela read it over his shoulder.

  MY CAPABILITIES LIMITED STOP

  RIBBENTROP IS FAE STOP

  YOU THWARTED EFFORTS TO KILL AMBASSADOR MACGRAW ON PLANE STOP

  NOW RIBBENTROP PLANS KILL GUESTS WITH TNT AT ALL HALLOWS EVE BALL STOP

  4

  Rick said, “So, did you guys have a Guy Fawkes?”

  Angela and MacGraw stared at him blankly.

  Rick said, “No? ‘Remember, remember the fifth of November?’”

  Angela shook her head.

  MacGraw said, “Ah have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Rick smiled and said, “Alright, so look: on my world, and I think on a lot of worlds, there was a fellow named Guy Fawkes. He tried to take out the British Parliament back in the day by planting a bunch of gunpowder under the building. It failed, though, because too many people knew about it. You know what they say about having a secret and sharing it. You had nothing like that happen here?”

  Angela shook her head again.

  Rick said, “Okay. Well, I guess that explains why Ribbentrop thinks this is a good idea. Nobody has heard of the idea. Even better, he’s got TNT instead of simple black powder.”

  MacGraw said, “Ah’m still having a hard time grasping the idea of your computer sending you a message from New York. It’s not the advanced computer part, mind you, it’s the part about New York City that troubles me. Why would she be over there? It’s barely a one horse town on that island.”

  Rick shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. On most alternates, New York is the most important city for hundreds of years, especially in the latter part of the timeline. So when Cait’s sensors are planted, sometimes they’re concentrated where they’ll be needed. Or where she thinks they’ll be needed. London, New York, Rome. Nobody knew that Houston would become the dominant North American city here.”

  MacGraw maintained a skeptical expression. He said, “Be that as it may, Ah am still supposed to accept the fact that the Germans are planning to blow up everybody at the All Hallow’s Eve Ball based on a message from New York. Why would they do that? More importantly, how would they get away with it?”

  Rick shrugged. He said, “Who knows if they’re just aiming for the Texas delegates, or everybody? On my alternate, Hitler made a secret pact with Stalin, and they both agreed to partition Poland. Russia took the eastern part and Germany took the west, over to Warsaw. Things were going well until Hitler reneged and sacked Warsaw, killing all the Russian troops stationed there. Then he marched into Belarus.

  “Stalin was furious and felt Hitler betrayed him, and World War Two was on. In other alternates, Poland was to be left alone and Hitler used deception to gin up an excuse to raid it anyway. A common thread always involved tricking people, whether it was convincing Chamberlain he wanted peace, or fooling Stalin they could be friends. Inevitably, on every world, the Nazis betray everybody and start the worst war seen to that date.

  “As for what’s going on here and now, if I had to guess I’d say he aims to wipe out as many diplomats as he can, then attack somewhere in the aftermath. Think of the confusion with all those diplomats dead.

  “He obviously foresees Texas as a threat when things start moving on the continent. England, too. In my world, we used England as a giant aircraft carrier, and bombed the heck out of Germany while Russia’s army decimated their manpower in the east.”

  MacGraw’s expression shifted from skepticism to thoughtfulness. He said, “When we get through this, Ah’ll have to talk to you about how your side won that war. You might be able to provide us some valuable insights.”

  “I can tell you it’s a two-pronged war for the American . . . uh, Allied side. It involves fighting the Empire of Japan in the Far East at the same time. Their big trick was to try and wipe out our fleet at Pearl Harbor in a sneak attack. They were willing to fight to the last man, too, until we dropped the atom bomb on them, forcing a surrender.”

  MacGraw’s face grew visibly troubled. He said, “What was the date of that attack on Pearl Harbor?”

  “December 7th, 1941. ‘The date of infamy,’ as our President called it.”

  “We definitely need to talk after this is over. Ah may be able to do something about that. For right now, we’ll have Dorn take you back to Louie’s and get you outfitted for a tux. You’re coming with us to the All Hallow’s Eve Ball.”

  -+-

  Smitty peered over the technician’s shoulder. This fellow was young, Smitty thought, like most of the men and women working in the embassy basement. Early 20s. Light brown hair, cut short. Both men looked through the open metal door in the side of ENIAC at a large array of vacuum tubes, stretching up a giant breadboard ten feet tall and three feet wide.

  “We’ve isolated it to this
panel, Mr. Smitty,” the technician said.

  “Right. You know the drill. Yank the tubes and put them on the tester. Replace the faulty ones. And check for obstructions in the sockets. If it’s another cockroach, so help me, I’ll pummel that useless exterminator.”

  ENIAC had been down for a period of time some months back and Smitty’s team had pulled most every tube, even the ones known to be good. But nobody could pinpoint the problem. At long last one of the technicians noticed a roach crushed inside a socket. When it was cleaned out, ENIAC worked properly again. Since then, the technicians had come to call any computer problems a “bug.” The term stuck.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The young technician immediately began twisting and pulling out each tube in the array as far up as his hands could reach. When they were all out of the breadboard and in a basket, he retrieved a stepladder to pull the remaining ones higher up.

  Smitty nodded, made a notation on his clipboard, and left the young man to his task. He walked back toward the entry room, through a veritable labyrinth of panels and corridors all humming with electricity and the soft glow of vacuum tubes.

  The air crackled in front of him.

  He stopped and stared at the space that had snapped at about the same level as his stomach.

  “There should not be any static electricity,” he said to himself. “This entire place is grounded.”

  The air crackled again. This time a black rip in the fabric of reality appeared, floating briefly before him. It popped out of existence just as suddenly.

  “That’s a new one.”

  Absently, Smitty looked over his shoulder to see if the technician might also have noticed the odd phenomenon. But the young man was nowhere in sight.

  The air crackled a third time. The black scar returned, about a foot tall and four inches wide this time. Slowly, it moved toward him. Smitty took an involuntary step backward. The scar rushed forward and sucked the clipboard out of his hands.

  POP!

  The technician ran out into the corridor. He said, “What was that?”

  Shaken, Smitty said, “I don’t know. But whatever it was grabbed my clipboard!”

  “Are you sure, sir? Maybe it just fell out of your hands or something.”

  The two men looked on the floor, but could not find the clipboard anywhere.

  -+-

  Louie said, “I hate that I’m rushing another order for you, Mr. Strickland.”

  Rick stood on a small platform holding his arms out while Louie and two assistants took multiple measurements. Baxter and Angela waited outside in the car.

  “A truly bespoke suit involves multiple fittings over several sessions,” Louie continued. “What we’re doing for you here is simply altering a pre-made outfit.”

  Rick smiled in acknowledgement and said, “Don’t worry about it. That last suit you gave me is one of the best I’ve ever owned. And I’ll probably wear this tux once and be done with it. Seems pointless to go to a lot of trouble.”

  “What you do with our products is none of our concern, of course. But it’s my job to make sure we offer you the very best clothes we can deliver.”

  Louie made a few more notations on a notepad and copied down the measurements his assistants had taken.

  He said, “Do you have any special requests for this tuxedo, Mr. Strickland? Any particulars you prefer? I presume you’ll want a shawl lapel, for instance.”

  Rick shrugged. He said, “Just make it look good.”

  Then he was struck by a thought. He said, “Hey, Louie. Do you have any iron buttons?”

  “Iron? That’s not a very common material for clothing. Tends to rust, I’m afraid. Especially in London’s weather.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. But if it’s possible, I’d love to have iron buttons. And an iron pin for the boutonniere. In fact, if you have any spare iron pins, I’d like several to be included in this order.”

  Louie stopped and stared at Rick speculatively for several moments. He had a wide nose and balding head, with longer locks of straight hair around the sides and back to compensate. In another place and time he would have had plenty for a comb-over, but in keeping with current styles he let them hang down. Rick thought he looked like a Jewish Benjamin Franklin.

  “If I may be so bold,” Louie said, “what do you want so much iron for, Mr. Strickland?”

  “Uh . . . in case I meet up with some fae.”

  The two assistants stopped, young men evidently serving as apprentices under Louie. They stared at Rick, then at one another.

  They burst into laughter.

  The assistants left the room chuckling. The last one through the door flashed a smile over his shoulder on the way out. He said, “That’s a good one, sir!”

  Rick smiled back but when they shut the door he returned his attention to Louie.

  He said, “So, how about that iron?”

  Louie said, “You’re serious?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You intend to take on fae with iron pins and buttons?”

  “Well . . . yeah. Unless you have something better that’s made out of pure iron? Like a blade, or a sword, or even a sharpened rod. And not steel, either. Pure iron.”

  Louie stuck the pencil in his ear and smiled at Rick. He said, “I do think you’re serious and not making fun of us.”

  “Making fun of you? Look, I’m not from around here and I’m sure I put my foot in my mouth several times a day. But I am in no way trying to insult you or . . . or your people.”

  “Alright. So, you’re not familiar with Jewish folklore?”

  “Jewish folklore? Uh . . . what about it?”

  “Monsters?”

  “Oh. Well, I’ve read a little about your Golem.”

  Louie responded with a blank look on his face.

  Rick said, “You know. A monster made of mud? The Golem of Prague?”

  Louie shook his head. He said, “Never heard of it. No, the monster I was referring to is the Fae of Eden.”

  Rick’s eyebrows shot up as several things clicked into place.

  He said, “So, you have a tradition of fae persecuting your people?”

  Louie nodded. “The Fae of Eden tricked Adam and Eve into eating the forbidden fruit. And then he mostly disappears from the Biblical record. But we have a long tradition of his animosity for the descendants of Abraham. The rabbis say he wanders the world, seeking to sow distrust and hatred for Jews among the nations, always scheming to destroy as many of us as he can. Unfortunately, he’s been successful over the centuries time and again.”

  Rick said, “So, he’s never been killed?”

  Louie shook his head. “Only wounded in battle. And then, at great cost every time. He always kills his opponents before they can finish him off. Some have gotten close but have never seen it all the way through.”

  “When was the last time that happened?”

  “The year 1607, we think. There were no survivors, but it’s widely believed a group of King James’s soldiers faced the Fae of Eden and gravely wounded him outside London. At any rate, no one else ever claimed responsibility for the massacre, and that remains the simplest explanation.”

  “So, what you need is . . . someone who can’t be killed to attack him.”

  “I suppose. That, and a way to find him. Since then nothing but rumors and stories have cropped up. A peasant village in Russia is wiped out. Spanish authorities investigate entire regions where everyone is found dead. You can’t really tell what is rightfully attributed to the fae, or natural phenomena. No one knows much of anything for certain. It is said he can disguise himself as a human and walk among us undetected.”

  “Well Louie, I think I can handle both finding him and killing him. If you can get me some iron weapons, I’ll take care of the rest.”

  5

  Toya said, “Cait is making good progress on her rebooting process. She’s got about 70 percent capacity on Rick’s world right now. It seems things are exponential, too. The further along
she gets, the faster she goes.”

  Nancy smiled, tentatively. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and said, “That sounds good. Can she give him any support?”

  “Looks like she’s established communications through local channels. She’s not able to do a whole lot for him at the moment other than monitor and send messages. I hope to have a video feed of some sort soon, so we can maybe follow his progress.”

  “That’s great. How are the others?”

  “I have a bead on Jason. He’s on an alternate in the American West, early 1880s.”

  “Oh, that’s pretty close to his original timeline. He likes that period.”

  “Yeah, but it appears the fae have introduced a weird anomaly. Some kind of zombie plague.”

  “A zombie plague?”

  “Evidently the locals got infected with a virus of some sort. If I had to guess I’d say it’s one of those stupid golden bracelets again. And with frontier medicine, nobody knows what to do.”

  “Is he okay? Can we see him yet?”

  “Yeah, it looks like Cait is further along in her reboot on that alternate. I’m seeing over 90 percent. She’ll be able to reestablish contact with him soon through his neural interface.”

  Toya made a motion with her hand and the holographic screen changed, showing the Walker.

  -+-

  The redheaded boy pulled Jason in and slammed the door shut. The cabin’s dim interior revealed two more people: a woman in her late 30s and a younger boy, perhaps ten or eleven years old. They all had the same shade of dark auburn hair and seemed obviously related.

  The interior of the house looked rough and crude. It was built from logs, sealed with mortar between the cracks. On a rough wooden plank floor, a large handmade table and chairs appeared scuffed and scarred from daily use. Two more chairs in front of a fireplace made from local river rocks took up one wall. Along the back a cast iron hand pump perched over a sink, and a large wood-burning stove stood ready to handle cooking duties. Jason noticed all the windows were boarded up.