by Voss Foster
I walked back over. "What's going on?" I glanced around, expecting to see something and really hoping I didn't. And I did get my wish. I didn't see anything.
But I smelled ozone. Heavy, thick ozone that only seemed to be getting stronger. It wasn't a smell I was supremely familiar with, but working OPA had made it more recognizable. Ozone was the smell that accompanied magic. Usually so faint it was imperceptible, but the stronger the magic thrown out into the Mundane, the more intense the fragrance.
This was intense.
As if in confirmation, Gutt's knees buckled and he only just caught himself on the edge of his desk. I rushed over and helped him into his chair, and all the while the sharp, antiseptic stink of ozone grew steadily stronger, burning my nose.
"Gutt, are you okay?"
Slowly, he nodded. "Strong magic. Too strong. Get Swift."
"Swift's already here." He strode up, calm and put-together, but with a sharp frown set into his face. "I smelled the magic."
Gutt nodded again, closing his eyes. "I haven't felt anything quite like this since Jörmungandr. Did you approve anything of this magnitude, Swift?"
"I didn't approve anything of any magnitude, and I doubt anyone else would've tried some kind of experimental bullshit without running it by me." He glanced to the clock up above his office door. "Casey will be gone by now, but I could call him in if you need some assistance, Gutt."
"No." Gutt cracked his eyes open and, shaky and uneasy, brought himself back to his feet. "I'll be fine. It just came out of nowhere. Took me by surprise. I've got a handle on myself for the moment." He flicked one enormous hand to the side in a familiar motion. I saw sparks of golden light, but that was it. The enchantment fizzled out, and Gutt's scowl cut deeper. "But whatever this is, I won't be able to magic our way into a solution."
"Well then, we'd better hope it's friendly." Swift's voice still remained even and easy, carrying the slightest twang of his New Orleans accent. "Dash, you don’t happen to have cuffs on you, do you?"
I went to my desk and opened the bottom drawer. I came back out with a set of anti-magical restraints, wood and metal handcuffs scribed with swirling, interlocking symbols and studded with gems and stones in all sorts of different colors. "You really think these are going to work on something so strong it about knocked Gutt out of commission?"
"Not for one hot second," said Swift. "Doesn't matter. Better to try and fail than not try and find out it would have saved us a shitpot full of trouble." He turned his attention back to Gutt. "Any chance you can sniff out where this is all coming from?"
Gutt closed his eyes, and he actually managed to stand up fully straight again. "I think so. It's a strong signature…but it's coming under control again."
Yeah, or winding back for a big fuck-you-magic-punch. But I kept that particular fear to myself and just followed behind as Gutt led us on our chase.
Gutt led us at a decent clip, now that he was back up and running. Well, not quite running. No way my stupid human ass kept up with a seven-foot troll if he decided to run. I knew that from experience. But Swift and I were definitely running to keep up with Gutt's jog. We left the main OPA offices and headed down the hall. Gutt stopped at an intersection now and then before apparently making a decision on which way the danger lived.
I was personally regretting not having a magicked-up firearm at my hip when we headed downstairs and hit the distinct smell of ozone once again. It lived somewhere between rainstorm and chlorine, and it sent my hand going straight for the very useless, very non-magical Glock I was allowed to carry. Magic guns did too much damage for everyday use, and certainly too much to be allowed willy-nilly inside FBI headquarters.
Gutt led us down three flights. We were on the same level now as the parking garage, but I couldn't recall ever having gone down to wherever this was. I couldn't find a sign that told me what we might be walking into, either.
Gutt slowed at the bottom of the stairs and creaked the door open. "Swift, can you think of anything that would be down here that anybody might want?"
"Not off the top of my head. As long as I've been here, this has been storage for odds and ends, but nothing magical."
A storage room that, as far as I knew, nobody ever checked. I mean, I was low man on the totem pole. If anyone was going to be sent down for busy work in the last year, it would have been me. This was exactly the kind of place something nasty could have been brewing right under all our damn noses. "What's the plan?" A fresh wave of ozone hit and I stiffened. We were walking in there one way or another. "We have a plan, right?"
"Go in and see what the hell we're working with. That's my plan." Swift sighed. "Can you arm yourself at all, Gutt?"
Once again, he tossed his hand to the side. A glowing golden ring appeared around his wrist. Shaky, flickering slightly, but present. A strong, magical restraint, and one Gutt used often enough I recognized it. I was happy he could make it again, no doubt, but less reassuring? When Gutt made those rings, I always smelled ozone, even when it was faint. The first time I learned to associate that smell with magic had been with Gutt summoning those rings in downtown Manhattan, and the fact that this ambient magic from whatever was in that room could drown it out? I wasn't thrilled.
Gutt reached forward and opened the door, and we slowly walked forward. We made it about two feet in before we saw something that was definitely not part of OPA storage. At least I hoped not. "Swift, is that the last agent you tried to hire before me?"
"Last person who joined up was Bancroft. So no."
Huddled on the floor was a slight figure, wearing a worn, ivory tunic and loose-fitting red pants. They were rough, but appeared to be of decent quality. The figure appeared to be a human female. Olive skin, short, ragged brown hair cut to just below the bottoms of her ears. However, the reek of ozone implied she was no human at all.
Gutt stepped forward, holding his glowing ring at the ready, and he spoke softly. "Who are you?"
She whipped her head around, and wide, round eyes darted from Gutt's face to the ring. Then came a new wave of sinus-burning ozone. The golden ring guttered out of existence.
Gutt stepped back in line with me and Swift and raised his voice. Guess working in the Class-B prisons in the Kingdoms taught him how to stand up to folks who could end him. "You are in the Office of Preternatural Affairs without permission. Who are you, and what business do you have here?"
She parted dried, cracked lips. I swallowed back the initial pang of sympathy looking at her bedraggled, rough form. She was an intruder in the FBI headquarters, and the sort of intruder who could get in without tripping any magical sensors, any physical sensors, and nearly incapacitate an experienced practitioner like Gutt.
When she finally spoke, her voice quivered out past her lips, and she closed dark eyes. "Please kill me."
Chapter Two
Gutt, Swift, and I stood in silence, glancing back and forth between each other and the young woman on the floor. She wanted us to kill her? She had to be sick or in danger.
I turned full on to Swift. "If that's not a cry for help—"
He held up his hand to stop me and, having much bigger balls than I did, walked up to the woman. "I'm Agent Nathanael Swift. I run the Office of Preternatural Affairs, and we need to get one thing straight right away: our job isn't to kill you. If you're in danger, then we can help you."
She shook her head. "No, no, no, no, no. You can't help. No one can help."
Swift reached out to touch her, but stopped several inches short, then pulled away and strode back over to me and Gutt. "Gutt, do we even know what she is?"
"Golem? A sorcerer casting a glamour?" Gutt shrugged. "She's powerful, which means that anything's possible."
"How powerful would you guess?"
Gutt sighed, and shadow crept over his eyes. "I'm no expert in this, Swift."
"First instinct, in the field. Go."
Immediately, Gutt started popping his knuckles. It took several pops before he finally responded
, and the sound in the otherwise long, unbroken silence tensed my muscles until his voice finally broke through. "If I were to estimate conservatively, she's a Class-B, and a markedly powerful one. But my first instinct would be—"
Oh shit.
Before he could say the words that none of us wanted to hear, three figures materialized from nothing. Remote transported directly into this random storage room in the OPA. My mind immediately flashed through options. No accident, that was for damn sure. The girl was bait to get us down here so they could dispatch us? Possible. Also possible was that they were all here after her, which would explain why she seemed absolutely terrified. Getting pursued by sons of bitches would do that. Why hadn't they triggered any of our security systems? Assuming we'd even bothered with security in this random storage room. And that our friend here hadn’t crashed them all with her magic.
I leveled my Glock as Gutt got one of his special magic rings at the ready and his tusks out, shining in the golden light. "Agent N'Gutta of Droshheim, Office of Preternatural Affairs. You all are trespassing on federal property."
I examined the three of them to see what our situation was. My gun pointed at an elf, his ears studded with polished wood piercings. A silvery-white ice elemental stood to his left, her stark blue hair shorn close to her scalp. To her left, a broad-chested, gray-skinned troll. A couple inches shorter than Gutt, but still easily towering over me. And if I was being honest, he looked to be in better shape than Gutt, which made just his physical presence all the more intimidating. And that was without knowing what sort of magic he had available.
All of them wore some sort of protective gear. Mostly thick leather or hide of some kind, stitched or carved through with symbols. But I noticed that all of them had plenty of steel on them as well, bearing just as many runes and sigils. They were all heavily enchanted, which meant they were serious business.
The ice elemental spoke up first, keeping her hand at a dagger on her left hip that she didn't seem to care about us noticing. "You let us have the Class-A and this doesn't have to go any further than right here, right now boys."
Class-A. The very thing Gutt had been avoiding saying. We had a Class-A preternatural in a storage room in FBI headquarters. The kind of being that was normally locked up in a private dimension to avoid the damage they did to the world around them. Class-A preets bent reality around them, changed the world just by existing, and not necessarily for the better.
In fact, in my experience, always for the worse.
Swift sighed. "Agent Rourke, if you would be so kind as to cuff the nearest one of these interlopers for me?"
Right. FBI agent time. This Class-A, in spite of her request, was clearly under duress and needed our assistance. Which meant stopping the threat to her person. "My pleasure."
I stepped forward, but the big troll met me. Not with a fist, but with a bright purple fireball. He shook his head, and his tusks were…sharp. Very sharp. "You want to do this?"
"If I'm honest, not particularly. But I did kill Jörmungandr singlehandedly, so…maybe not the stupid human you want to mess with?"
"I'll take my chances."
Well, so much for that. Killing the world-ending serpent was sort of my intimidation trump card.
A massive hand swept me back and Gutt stepped forward, still holding the glowing light ring. He used every inch of his extra height against the other troll, and his voice came out cold and sharp. "I worked over a decade in Fourth Order Class-B containment. If you think I can't handle all three of you, I believe you will find yourselves all very mistaken. Now surrender peacefully."
The troll snuffed out his flame…then he launched himself at Gutt. They both tumbled backward and slammed against the wall hard enough to shake everything and send dust flying into the air. I immediately whipped around and aimed at the elemental woman. She was the only one I knew for certain was armed. "Stop now. All of you."
Gutt groaned loud and tossed the enemy troll three feet back toward his compatriots. My eyes flicked to the…to the damn Class-A. She was still on the floor, now shivering and clutching the sides of her head.
The pierced elf glanced to her as well. "Enough. We need to go."
I lunged for him with my restraints. They'd threatened to kidnap a preet in the US, and one of them bodily attacked an OPA agent. But I watched them all step away through shimmering air and skidded to a stop on my knees, cuffs in hand. Wherever they'd transported to, I didn't want to wind up there alone. Or worse, stranded somewhere completely separate because they'd given me the slip.
"Dash." Gutt's deep voice thrummed behind me, slightly weak and raspy. "Dash, you need to get away from her. We don't know what she's capable of. If she really is a Class-A…"
My stomach churned at the thought, but when I looked back to her, I couldn't help but just see someone scared out of their wits and trying to hold onto some thread of…anything. She sat there, clutching the sides of her head, prone on her stomach. No poison gas like Jörmungandr. No fire leaping out of her body uncontrollably like an untrained elemental. No…I didn't even know what else I should have been on the lookout for, but nothing pinged off my danger sense.
So I ignored Gutt and reached out for the scared, ragged young woman. "It's all right. They're gone. Calm down." I laid the cuffs aside and put both arms around her shoulders, trying to gently lift her out of her huddled position. "We're going to keep you safe and figure out what's going on, all right? My name's Dashiel Rourke, but you can call me Dash."
She stopped shaking, then slowly lifted her head out of her hands. Her eyes weren't red from crying, just wide, taking in every bit of my face like I was the first person she'd ever seen. "I'm…Lenva."
"Lenva." I didn't ask for a Kingdom name right now. What were the chances we'd need one to figure this out? Lenva the Class-A preternatural who escaped. I'd be shocked as hell if we didn't have the Hidden Kingdoms's ambassador porting into our office in the next hour to tell us what we needed to do with her. On that…we could deal with it when it popped up.
"Dash." I looked up at Swift. He had his phone out, but was currently locking eyes on me. "I've already called Casey. He's coming back ASAP. I'll call Ambassador Cyrex to let her know what's going on. You and Gutt can take her up to medical." Then he turned his attention to Lenva. "I promise, you're going to be okay."
"Come on." I slowly led her up to actually standing. I was halfway expecting to have to support her, but in spite of her frail appearance, she was more than capable of moving, walking, all that good shit.
"You shouldn't be bothering." She let Gutt and I lead her up the stairs, but she kept up the same refrain she'd greeted us with when we first opened the door. "Just end this before anyone gets hurt. Please. It's for the best."
I looked at Gutt, and he gave the slightest shrug possible, but didn't say anything.
We got her to Casey's room, and he'd already arrived, standing in a T-shirt and jeans. He looked her over briefly, then grabbed her hands. "You two go wait outside. It's bad enough that she's going to be in here with me after this whole ordeal she's been through. Doesn't need two FBI agents standing watch over her too, no matter how strappingly handsome they might be."
I wasn't about to argue, and apparently neither was Gutt. Worked for me. He and I needed a word or two anyway. We stepped out and I led him a couple yards down the hall, just to be sure we were out of earshot. "So you going to say anything about all of this?"
"She's a Class-A. What is there to say? She needs to be contained somewhere secure, and the Mundane does not fit the bill."
I wasn't going to enter that. I didn't entirely agree or disagree with him on that. We didn't know what she could do. The Lenva we'd seen so far? I would have railed against her being locked away in some dark, lonely dimension on her own. But for all any of us knew, she could blow up the entire FBI headquarters with a sneeze.
"But do you know anything about her?"
"I don't. Ambassador Cyrex will, and if she doesn't, she'll be able to c
ontact those who do."
"We could always call in Vellius." She was our best contact when it came to this sort of problem. A gorgon researcher in the Grand Archives. She'd helped with Jörmungandr and was about the only person I could think of to help us again.
"If a Class-A was released, Vellius should already be aware." He sighed and got to cracking his knuckles. Or trying to. They'd been officially popped down there in the storage room, so they made no actual sound, but it was Gutt's number one nervous habit. "What I don't yet understand is why she's here? Why would she get out and come to the authorities at all, let alone authorities in the Mundane?"
"Well according to her…she wanted us to kill her. I don't know how she ended up here instead of the Kingdoms, but once she got here, maybe she thought we were her best chance at an execution."
"Well we're not going to kill her." Gutt nodded curtly, and I had to admit, it was a relief. I'd known Gutt for a year, now. He was my partner. He was a good person. But he also believed very firmly in "the way things were supposed to be," and that included the absolute danger of these Class-A preets. At least he didn't want to immediately neutralize the threat.
"What should we do, though?"
"We don't do anything." Gutt stuffed his hands into his pockets and gave me a big grin, tusks and all. "For once, Dash, something is not our problem. I say we take that as a win."
There, I couldn't argue. "Then let's take it as a win. Go team." I quirked up an eyebrow at him. "Now what about the security system that apparently doesn't do us any good? Is that one our problem?"
He sighed. "It's only our problem until Zar and the R and D gals get back into the office. Then it would be their specialty. But I will make some calls in the interim. A few folks we have on hand just in case things may be going pear-shaped." He dug out his phone and sighed. "I'll still take this problem over the Class-A problem."
And on that, I could definitely agree.
Chapter Three