Following the recommendation of the waiter, he ordered the rack of dry-rubbed ribs and a glass of tea. When they came out, the odor of the ribs made his mouth water after months of military food. Tearing into the rack of ribs, he had to admit that, even though this was an Irish pub, they had great food. He was halfway through the meal when a female voice asked, “Can I join you?”
Donald looked around and found a thirty-ish dark haired woman standing across the table from him. She was wearing a Mardi Gras t-shirt, shorts and sneakers, a small purse over one shoulder. Donald glanced around and saw that most of the tables were still empty; still… “Sure, haul up a chair.” As the woman sat down at the table in the chair next to him, a waiter came over with a menu and glass of water. With just a glance at the menu, the woman ordered a burger and a beer, sending the waiter on his way.
Donald looked over at the woman, his meal forgotten for the moment. “Okay, I’m Donald, and you are…?”
The woman smiled at him. “Yes, you are. You’re Staff Sergeant Donald Drake, on detached duty from your unit in Iraq.” Donald raised one eyebrow. He’d expected to be contacted but he figured some guy in a suit, not the woman setting across from him.
“You still haven’t given me a name,” he replied.
“No, and I don’t need to, but you can call me Mary if you like. It’s not my name, but think of me as an old friend, not your clandestine contact, at least for now. Unlock and hand me your phone for a moment. I’ll put my contact number in it under that name,” she said. It was clear to Donald it was a command, not a casual request. Donald slid his phone across the table, where Mary entered a number and name in his ‘Contacts’ file. That done, she slid it back across to him. He noticed that there also was a second contact, one titled ‘Mr. Jones’. Now that’s interesting, he thought.
As he picked up the phone and put it in his pocket, Mary’s burger arrived, so for a few minutes, they concentrated on the meal. As Drake finished his ribs, she put down the burger and leaned his way, elbows on the table, but with her head turned away from the bar and other patrons.
“Here’re your orders. They’re short, but here is some background that you need. What do you know about magic; and I don’t mean the stage magician type, but what has been taking place recently?”
Donald paused in thought. “I got the short briefing before coming here. Beyond that, I’ve seen some things I can’t explain. I did some research over the last couple of weeks and social media has stories almost every day. Now, we did stop some villagers from killing a family whose children were being accused of having evil spirits. According to the parents, the children were showing abilities that were, well, considered magical. We just shrugged and bundled up the entire family and sent them into a safe zone in Baghdad. But no one in my unit has shown any unusual abilities.”
Mary cocked an eyebrow at Donald. “No one?”
Donald sighed. “Okay, so you must have read my after-action report from a while back.”
Mary nodded while taking another bite on her burger. She took a pull on her beer and then looked back at Donald.
“Your story was quite interesting to a lot of people in Washington. That’s why you’re here, and here’s what you’re to do. You don’t believe you have any powers and yet unusual things have happened around you. Right?”
Donald nodded back.
“So, what we want you to go out River Road, to that magic school. I think it’s being called the Queen’s School of Magic now. Once there, you are going to get trained in whatever form of magic, of power, that you have. But, as your verbal orders said, you are also going to report on what is going on.
“You see,” she continued, “there are a lot of people in government who are very concerned about what is going on there. Is it a cult? Do they have real magic? Are they a threat to the country? We need to know. And the only way to know is if we get someone inside the school, someone who can report back to us.”
Donald’s phone chirped, showing it had received a message.
“That will be a message with a link to a web site. They’re very internet savvy; enough so that we can’t penetrate their firewalls. That’s why we need someone inside. When you go to that web site, you’ll find it lets you ask to come to the school for training. That particular site is very open, almost like you’re applying to college. So, sign up, go out there, and find out what’s going on. And then report back. If we find that it’s benign, then fine, we’ll work with them. If we consider them a threat, well, we do have a lot of military.” She held up one finger. “And when you are on line, pull up the videos of the so-called ‘Witch of New Orleans’ and her school. You really, really need to know what you are going into. There’re a whole lot of creatures there that are not human, but are highly intelligent. Just be diligent in your research, just like anyone else that would be thinking about the school.”
Donald considered what was being asked of him. Finally, he asked the main question that was hovering in the back of his mind.
“You’re thinking a Waco situation, aren’t you?”
Mary sighed. “That’s a possibility, but that was the biggest screwup ever. We definitely don’t want that situation if we can avoid it, but we can’t avoid it unless we know what is going on, and you’re our ‘in’ as regards to getting information about what is going on in that place. So, any questions?”
Donald leaned back and, taking a pull on the beer bottle in front of him, closed his eyes and considered what he was being asked to do. He wasn’t in the intelligence business, although he had done some work in that area while in Iraq; but it wasn’t anything like what he was being asked to do. On the flip side, it would give him the training for whatever was happening to him. He nodded to himself. He’d sworn to protect the U.S. from enemies both foreign and domestic, and if this was a cult of personality that was a threat to the U.S., then, yeah.
He opened his eyes and looked across at Mary. “I’m in. Now, how do I get messages out as they’ll be monitoring phone and internet usage?”
Mary nodded. “We thought of that. When you open your phone, you’ll see an app with an ‘S’ on it. That is a special app. Your phone connects like normal to the local cell towers. But, it will also connect securely to a ‘Stingray’ tower we have set up across the river from the school. To do that, you click on the Stingray app,” Mary explained. “That changes the signal to a scrambled one that only connects to the Stingray tower.” She smiled at Donald as he stuck the phone in his pocket.
“Good. Now,” she raised her hand and motioned the waiter over. “I’ll take care of the checks. It’s the least…or most I can do. Good luck, sergeant.”
Later that day, back in his hotel, Donald opened his laptop computer and went online to the web site. He looked at it, and from the first moment, it was clear that it was very professionally done. The graphics were sharp, the forms were easy to fill out and submit, which he did. It had to be an automated site because as soon as he submitted the forms, he got an immediate email giving him the directions to the school.
He clicked back on his computer and double-checked his application to the school. Nope, no mention that he was an active member of the military, just his basic data such as address, and so forth, and what changes he was experiencing. Okay, so I’ll go in as a former member of the military, discharged, and was planning on going back to college when this stuff started.
Then a second email arrived from ‘Mr. Jones’ with an attachment. He opened the attachment and began reading. The more he read, the more worried he got. It centered around the fact that the people on this property had crowned someone named Sha-Ri a’ Alean de Camlin as their Queen. There was even a link to a video. As the video played, Drake leaned back in the chair, amazed at what he was seeing. There were all sorts of beings as well as a lot of people kneeling in front a young red-haired woman standing under a huge oak, a woman who was being crowned as a sovereign leader. The U.S. didn’t have any royalty; it had been thrown out during the American
Revolution. Yes, there was a form of royalty but they were the music and movie stars with no more real power than the fanbase influence. But these people, they were following her as someone with real authority, which could create a huge schism between this group and the U.S. government.
Donald froze the video, focusing on the tableau on the screen. He shook his head. I think this is going to be more complicated than I originally thought.
***
Drake spent another day just being a tourist while picking up a couple of regular suitcases along with a full non-military set of clothes. While he had some civilian clothes, ninety percent of his stuff was what he would wear around a military base. He stripped all the tags, and then found a laundromat and ran everything through the washers and dryers so it didn’t look like it was just off the rack. Finally, he added these to his existing civilian clothes to complete the look of someone just out of the military. He kept a couple of pairs of camo fatigues and his boots, just like any other veteran would do; the rest he put in a closet-sized storage unit. The only thing he had to remember was to relax around others. He had to drop his shoulders a bit, relax his stance and not bark an answer to any questions.
The next morning, he tossed his suitcases into the backseat of his car and, following the directions he was given, drove west out of New Orleans to River Road and Plantation Row. The traffic on River Road was heavier than he expected for a narrow road in a thinly populated area. He drove past a large number of the old plantation homes, some restored while others were in severe decline. Then he suddenly hit a traffic backup on the road as he came up behind what was clearly a tour bus. Diesel fumes from the bus forced him to roll up the windows as the traffic inched along. Finally, he came upon a fenced property on the right. Standing along the edge of the road were a bunch of people with protest signs calling for, among other things, the arrest of the Queen, the registration of all magic users, and even the imprisonment of all magical users and beings, as if that was even possible.
He grinned when he realized that this must be the edge of what was now called the Queen’s enclave. He finally reached an entry drive with a sign identifying it as the Queen’s School and turned in, stopping as a guard waved him down. As Donald showed the guard his acceptance email, other guards were paying close attention to the nearby demonstrators. As the guard handed back his identification, Donald asked, “What’s with the people with the signs?”
“We’ve tried to keep a low profile out here,” the guard explained. “For a while, the main thing was people trying to take photos of the facility, of the folks here, which still happens. But, recently, there was an attack on the facility.”
“An attack? What happened?” Donald responded. He hadn’t heard about that.
“A team tried to penetrate the grounds and kidnap people. Luckily, one of our trainees reacted quickly and we, well, actually the trainee by herself, managed to take them out. And we are having to send out recovery teams to bring in threatened people. Recently, a tactical team had to go to Los Angeles and save a clan of elves from being sliced and diced by some corporate lab. That made all the papers.”
“Wait a minute. You’ve had people being kidnapped and treated like lab rats?”
“Yeah. You need to be aware of what is going on. These nuts,” the guard continued, motioning at the shouting protestors, “are being paid by someone. We managed to corral one and get him to talk. They’re a bunch of paid agitators, paid by some big money outfit to stir people up against us. So, just keep your eyes open. Anyway, head on up to the main buildings and park where the other cars are.”
Donald nodded and headed up the drive which ran beneath rows of huge oaks that completely overhung the road. As the trees opened up, another guard waved him to a parking area already packed with cars, pickups and vans.
Climbing out of the car and, leaving the suitcases for now, Donald walked towards the restored and impressive plantation home. But, as imposing as it was, the other beings walking around the property, training, and so forth were still a shock. Even being prepared by the videos, the reality was almost overwhelming. There were the flying horses with horns, Pegasi, he thought. In the distance he could see elves training with humans everything from martial arts to high powered magical arts. Even as he walked towards the front steps, he had to stop suddenly as several kids, both human and elven, along with three Pegasi colts went charging past. Bemused, he headed on up, stopping at two guards in tailored green and gold light-weight uniforms standing in front of the steps to the main building. What really got his attention was that the two guards appeared to be elves. When he told them he was new and checking in, one of the guards welcomed him to the school and gave him directions to the main desk. Thanking him, Donald mounted the steps and entered the school.
Walking through the doors, he found himself in an immaculately maintained and decorated entry room, a room that was probably a formal parlor in the original home. There was a desk at one side manned by a young mixed-race woman, apparently in her twenties. That began a whirlwind of movement that momentarily reminded him of the times he had changed units in the army. When everything was done, he’d received a key to a single room, a folder with the basic rules, wi-fi passwords, meal times, and a map of the facility. Even as he finished the paperwork, the young lady at the desk looked sharply at him.
“Something is bothering you. You’re concealing something. Spill it.”
“Excuse me? I’m not hiding anything,” Donald replied.
“I’m Stella, and I’m an empath. Something is there, buried in your mind. I know people try to hide things in their mind, but around here it’s virtually impossible. There are too many with empathic or similar powers. So, spill it. You’ll have to anyway.”
Donald sighed. He’d hoped that he wouldn’t be challenged so early, so he pulled out his story about being a recently-discharged veteran and was having to deal with both PTSD and some weird powers that let him feel when something was wrong. He gave Stella a quick summary of his patrol, intimating that it was at the end of his tour in Iraq and he’d been given a medical discharge as the doctors couldn’t figure out what he was talking about.
Stella looked across the desk at Donald, and then, to his surprise, she stood up, came around the desk, and gave him a big hug. She stepped back with an understanding smile on her face, her hands still on his arms. “I get it. I’ve had to deal with hearing other people’s thoughts, their feelings ever since that weird night. Here, I’m learning control; how to focus on one person, how to dial out what is best described as ‘noise’ of everyone around me. It was literally driving me crazy. Now, have you tried to do anything, like creating light or fire?” Donald shook his head.
“Good, and don’t try it. There’ve been way too many deaths from someone trying to use their newfound power, usually trying to call up fire. They set themselves and, sometimes, people around them on fire. These powers can be very beneficial, but they can be very dangerous, so let our teachers work with you. Okay?”
Donald nodded again.
“All right. It’s coming up towards lunch, so go grab your bags and find your room; it’s on the east side of the buildings. You’ll hear the lunch bell and it is served in the dining area on the back side of this main building. Today, just get familiar with the facility, and tomorrow morning after breakfast, head for the rear porch. Someone will find you. Welcome, and good luck,” Stella finished, giving Donald one more hug.
Shaking his head, Donald walked back out, grabbed his bags, and then started wandering through the building. He found the stairs easily enough and he found his room on the top floor. Opening the door, he pocketed his room key and then tossed his bags on the bed. He nudged the door shut, and then, pulling the phone out, clicked the Stingray app and, pulling up Mary’s contact number, opened up a text window. I’m in, he sent. And then, after looking around the room, began unpacking. This is going to taking some getting used to, he thought.
***
The next morning, Don
ald walked out back and stood on the rear porch, watching a wide range of people training to use their powers. What amazed him is that the powers appeared to be extremely varied, both in type and in power. One high school-aged girl was exercising her powers to punch holes in a thick piece of steel. Off to one side, there were people; well, he thought they were people. They were a combination of animals and humans. Shapeshifters came to mind. For some reason he found himself attracted to a woman who was a human-like lion, complete with full body hair and a tawny mane. Dressed only in a workout bra and shorts, she was tossing her opponent, a male werewolf similarly dressed, around like it was nothing. They looked to be evenly matched but there was something in her approach, her muscle memory, her movements that reminded him of the special forces members he’d run across. He couldn’t help but smile. As the two separated and caught their breaths, the woman’s head jerked up and she spun, looking straight at Donald. She stood there for a moment, and then smiled at him and nodded. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to her opponent to go again.
Drake turned back to watching the others. Damn. I must have reached out with my mind to her. That’s the only way she’d have known. Gotta be more careful…but…he glanced around at the woman again. I thing I’d like to know her; yeah. Definitely.
He was jerked out of his thoughts when a man walked up to him. Just slightly shorter than Drake, there was an aura of power around him. “Hi. I’m Rafe McMahan. Stella says you are dealing with some form of mental powers.”
Donald nodded and extended his hand, which Rafe shook.
“Yeah. I seem to be able to detect when something’s wrong. And…” he paused for a moment, considering telling Rafe about what just happened. Mentally, he shrugged; gotta learn control, anyway. “And I was watching the shapeshifters working out over there and, honestly, found myself very intrigued with the lioness. I’m ex-military and can really appreciate what she is doing.”
Fantastic Schools, Volume 3 Page 12