Rafe laughed.
“And probably how she looks as well. Right?”
Drake nodded with a grin.
“Yep. You got me there. But the thing is, I think she felt me looking at her; at least, that is the feeling I got when she turned and looked at me.”
Rafe grinned. “Don’t worry. Her name is Lynda Pence. How she got here is her story to tell, but you should know, she’s a warrior. And,” Rafe looked at Donald through slightly narrowed eyes. “Since you’re a warrior yourself and you’ve been on the sharp end, when you get a minute, why not introduce yourself? She’s had a hard time since she came into her powers, but she’s happy here, being accepted for who and what she is, and not having to hide any longer.”
Rafe motioned towards some chairs sitting beneath one of the huge oaks. “Come on, let’s talk”
The two walked across the chairs and sat down. After a moment, Drake began telling his stories, how he protected his platoon from attacks. Rafe nodded, and then focused on Drake. Donald sat there and then suddenly heard in his mind, Do you hear me?
Almost automatically he mentally replied, Yes.
There was a moment and then he heard in his head, Good. Yes, you have power, primarily mental powers, like I do. You’ll get training so you can learn to use these effectively, as well as to be able to mute them or hide them as necessary.
Rafe paused and then continued, this time just talking normally.
“You will also get trained in powers you probably don’t realize you have. For example, you should be able to ‘shield’ yourself; that is, generate a wall of power that will stop an attack, even to the point of being able to stop gunfire. And then there are the basic powers of controlling light, controlling fire, and so forth.” He grinned at Donald. “You’re going to work very hard, because if you don’t pay attention, if you don’t learn to control your powers, you can kill someone by accident, or even kill yourself. You’re ex-military; think of where you are at with your powers as the same as giving a loaded firearm to a kid with no training.”
Donald nodded to McMahan, understanding the point he was making. Even as he sat there, he noticed McMahan’s eyes flick somewhere behind them. Donald closed his eyes and focused his mind behind them to whoever was there. He relaxed for a moment, and then smiled.
“Hi, Lynda,” he said, not looking back.
“Darn. I was hoping to sneak up on you,” a woman’s voice responded. The tawny-haired muscular woman, now in human form, walked past and around him to stand in front of him. “You seemed very interested in me, so I thought I would say ‘hello’.”
Donald stood up and extended his hand.
“Hi. I’m Donald Drake. And you are Lynda Pence?”
Lynda glanced over at Rafe.
“You cheated. You told him who I am,” she accused him with a grin.
“His powers tend to the mental, so there’s no real hiding from him. You felt him looking at you, didn’t you?”
Lynda nodded.
“See, he needs training so that his powers don’t bleed over and don’t impact others while being able to actively control them.”
Lynda looked at Donald while addressing Rafe.
“Well, it’s lunchtime, and you’re not going to be able to really get started training until this afternoon, so, Don,” she said, focusing on Drake, “are you going to invite me to lunch?”
Drake grinned.
“Since I don’t have to pay for it, absolutely. So, would you care to join me for a bit of lunch?” He stepped up beside Lynda and took her offered arm, and the two headed off towards the large dining area.
***
The next month passed like a whirlwind for Donald. He worked in the morning learning to control his basic powers. There he found out his ability to shield himself was very strong, but other powers were weaker, which, he found out, was not unusual for someone whose powers went to the mental side. The afternoons were spent learning to control his mental powers. It would be common to train with either elven warriors or the security team commanded by Gunner Williams. The more he worked, the more he became impressed with what they were putting together. As he listened to the people talk, he didn’t hear any talk of declaring war on the U.S. However, there was a growing worry that the law as it was didn’t recognize all these intelligent beings as being ‘human’ under the law. This was being reinforced since rescue teams were being forced to going out more and more often to recover magic users and other beings that had kidnapped and used for experiments. And more than once, the recovery teams had come back with people that looked like they had been imprisoned at concentration camps or, even worse, dead.
Evenings found him walking outside, often with Lynda. She was a warrior, which attracted her to Donald. One evening, they were sitting under a large magnolia, occasionally swatting at a mosquito and talking. Donald had told her about his background, but so far she hadn’t opened up. For a while she had just sat there, quietly enjoying the companionship. Finally, she looked over at Donald through hooded eyes.
“You need to know who I am, and how I got here.”
Donald just nodded for her to continue. She looked away across the lawn as fireflies flitted through the dark.
“It was in Miami. I’d graduated law school, passed the bar and had literally just accepted a marriage proposal. We’d left the restaurant and were walking to a club to celebrate when a man came out of an alley, grabbed me, and put a knife to my throat.” She shuddered, the memory of that night still raw. “He pulled me into the alley, demanded my fiancé’s billfold, and then told me he was going to rape me, threatened to kill me.”
She paused for a long moment.
“And then, something happened; something clicked inside me. In moments, I became the lioness, complete with claws, growing in size and ripping my dress. I grabbed the hand with the knife, crushing it, and proceeded to rip his throat out.” She shook her head as she shared the horror of that night. “I’m standing there in my lion persona. I remember turning to face Spencer; that was his name. Anyway, I’m standing there, drenched in the man’s blood. I remember tasting it on my lips.”
She paused, clearly lost in the memory, and then continued. As she did, Donald realized just how traumatic that must have been for her.
“The taste of the blood…” She shook her head. “The lion inside me seemed to growl in satisfaction. I smiled at Spencer, glad to be alive while all the time ignoring the dying gasps of the rapist. But Spencer…he couldn’t handle it. He turned and ran, leaving me there alone with the body. I made it back to my apartment on foot, only to find the police there. I gave them a story about taking the knife away from the man and using it on him. They accepted my story even though the police knew there were huge holes in it.”
She sighed. “Anyway, Spencer and I split, and I tried to go on with a normal life; well, normal for what I had become. I had accepted a job at an attorney’s office so I used the time between the attack and reporting to work to learn how to control my changes. I also learned what to wear under my clothes instead of normal underwear.” She looked at Donald and grinned. “When I change wearing normal clothes, that often means they get shredded, which can be embarrassing. Anyway, it turns out the lawyer I was working for was moving money for a South American mob. They got spooked and decided to eliminate any loose ends, and that included the attorney and me. The mob sent three shooters and, well,” she shrugged. “I killed them.”
Donald looked across at her, amazed. “You took out three armed killers single-handed? And didn’t get hurt?”
“Oh, one bullet grazed my arm,” she replied, “but I heal fast. Anyway, I knew the cops weren’t gonna buy my ‘oh poor me’ story. I mean, I had crushed the throats of two of the men and sliced the third one’s throat. And besides, I’d have to show my lion form, and I didn’t want to end up in some lab somewhere being experimented on.”
Donald nodded; he’d seen the results as the teams had recovered people and beings from labs.
“So, I headed here,” she continued. “But,” she held up a finger. “Things were about to get real weird; well, weirder than what had already happened. As I drove into New Orleans, I felt something pulling me to a park just off Canal. I stopped, went into the park, and ended up seeing Sherry and some other magician hammering each other, with other magicians, cops and security people following Sherry. The magician she was fighting noticed me and grabbed me. Now, he’s threatening me, using me as a hostage.” She gave Donald a wry grin. “I decided then and there that I wasn’t running any more, that I was going to control what happened to me.”
“So you killed him,” Donald surmised.
“Oh, yeah. I ripped him from belly button to breast, and then tore his throat out.”
Donald grinned. “That’ll do the job.”
“Yeah,” she replied. “Anyway, Rafe and Sherry called some high-powered attorneys, got me cleared from the mess in Miami, and, now, I’m here. I’m getting licensed in Texas and Louisiana; Rafe wants me to serve as their in-house legal officer.” She leaned back and smiled at Donald. “So, do I scare you?”
Donald stood up, reached down and raised her into his arms. “Not one bit. You are a warrior, strong and proud. So am I. What’s there to fear?”
***
On evenings, when Lynda was tied up elsewhere, Donald would be found walking around the yard, talking with one of the Pegasi or elves, or sometimes watching the children, both human and inhuman, chasing fireflies. What would have been unimaginable a couple of months ago now had become just another part of his life. For possibly the first time in his life, he was at peace with where he was.
But late in the evenings, alone in his room, he was starting to have concerns about what he was being ordered to do. He was still in the military and was used to following orders. But, the more he reported, the more he learned about what these people were about, the more he wondered if he was doing the right thing.
It had become clear that these people did not pose a threat to the U.S., or, at least the government hadn’t made them turn against it. Rather, it was becoming apparent that the politicians and unethical people in various position, both in the corporate world as well as governments, were a threat to all these people, be they mythical beings come to life or a magic user. His reports continued to describe exactly what was happening; how he was being trained, along with the events that were taking place. Nowhere did he say they were a threat to the government.
What was getting him nervous was the pushback he was receiving from his handlers. More and more pressure started coming down on Donald, disabusing him of the idea that his handlers wanted an impartial report of what was going on. Rather, it became obvious that they had a different agenda and, after stronger and stronger hints, one evening their agenda had come across crystal clear. That particular evening, after he sent up his daily report by text, he got a phone call from someone identifying themselves as ‘Mr. Jones’, even though the voice was different. That was just one more indication that his handlers weren’t being honest.
When he answered the phone, rather than a conversation, he got a lecture.
Okay, Drake, we didn’t send you down there to enjoy yourself, to have a vacation in New Orleans. We know that these people are a threat. There are people that are pushing the Attorney General to declare them a terrorist group and we need the data from you to support that. Now listen; if you don’t play ball and give us what we want, you can kiss your Army career goodbye.
Donald had spent the rest of the evening trying to decide what to do, how to comply with the orders he had been given. He’d been taught to obey orders, no matter what. As a sergeant in the army, he wasn’t paid to make strategic decisions, just implement the orders to the best of his ability. But now, he was facing a crisis of conscience. If he followed the orders to the letter, he would be lying: lying to his superiors, lying to those around him, and lying to himself. What was he to do?
The next day, he’d begged off his training, saying he had to figure some things out. Given his background and experience, the others figured he was dealing with his PTSD, and, in a manner of speaking, he was; except the PTSD he was facing was the conflict in his soul. Did he give the spooks the fabricated data they wanted, or did he turn his back on his career and be truthful to the people he had met, the beings he considered friends, and, especially, to Lynda?
He wandered away from the home and into the woods that ran from behind the home down to the Mississippi levee. There, under the oaks, he checked the ground for fire ants and then sat down and leaned against one of the aged trees. The problem he was facing chased itself round and round in his head. The more he thought about it, the more unsolvable it became, and was really giving him a headache.
As he sat there, contemplating what how to solve the problem, he heard a voice in his head: You are troubled, Donald. Can I help?
Donald looked up to see Ramon, the huge black Pegasus, standing in front of him. “You followed me?”
Oh, Donald human, I could feel your distress as you walked past the herd. For that matter, the entire herd felt your pain. I don’t know what is bothering you, but perhaps talking to me will help you decide what path to take in solving your problem.
Donald looked up at the Pegasus, his deep blue eyes seeming to peer into his soul. He sighed. “I am being asked by someone to lie, to satisfy their agenda rather than to adhere to the truth. If I fail to follow their orders, my whole career is gone. I will have sacrificed so much of my life for nothing.”
For nothing? Donald, I know your story. I know that you have put your own life on the line for your comrades. I know that you have stood between evil and those who simply want to live their lives quietly and peacefully. And, from what you say you are thinking, if you obey your orders, whatever they are, you do not feel that you will be able to forgive yourself for whatever happens after that.
Ramon paused and then shook his mighty head. There is a passage in your people’s religious book along the lines of what does it matter to gain the world but lose your soul.
Donald’s head jerked up. “You’ve read the Bible?”
Ramon snorted and shook his head. Oh, Donald. My people were there when much of it was written. There were monks and priests that accepted that we were an intelligent people and felt it their duty to tell us of what they felt were the truths in these writings. This particular passage stuck with me because it forms the basis of morality. In simple terms, you can take one step towards evil, which makes the second step easier. You can lie once, and then twice, and then lying becomes what you do without even thinking about it. You can betray those who you feel responsible for once, and then twice, and then the next betrayal becomes much easier. And each time you do these things, you sacrifice a piece of who you really are. You give up your morality, your soul, all that makes you, you.
If this is what you are facing, think about the consequences, not so much for others but the consequences to you, to your soul. Is it worth preserving what you had if you give up who you are? I just ask you to consider this. Now, I have hints from your mind as to what you are being asked to do, but I will hold that in confidence as you have trusted me in the past, as we have walked and communed in previous days.
At that, Ramon turned and walked back towards the main buildings, leaving Donald pondering what Ramon had said. It all boiled down to one simple fact, the fact that he had to be true to who he was. Not what the Army thought he was, not what his handlers wanted him to do, but who he was and wanted to be.
It was mid-morning and Lynda was involved in her training when she saw Donald walk away from the buildings, climb in his car and drive away. Late that afternoon, he returned, carrying a briefcase and a gym bag. She looked around for him at supper but missed him. When she asked around, Gunner Williams told her Donald was down at the shooting range. She thought it was a bit odd as he hadn’t been down there before, but he was ex-military and she figured he just wanted to get some practice in. Mentally shrugging, she d
idn’t think anything else about it.
***
Mr. ‘Jones’ answered the scrambled phone on his desk.
A voice on the other end began with no preliminaries: “Your source is not giving us what we need. For that matter, we believe that he is becoming a liability. If he rolls on us, we will be disavowed by the powers that be, and we definitely don’t want that. This is your mess. Clean it up.” The phone disconnected, leaving ‘Jones’ staring at a dead phone in his hand.
Damn. Why couldn’t Drake play ball? All he had to do was just give us something we could use, but, no. He had to play it straight.
‘Jones’ shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to eliminate a potential source of trouble. He picked up the phone again and started making calls.
***
It was Saturday. Donald had asked Lynda if she wanted to go into the Quarter and have supper and then visit some of the Bourbon Street clubs; she readily agreed. So as the sun creeped down, they drove out of the entrance to the school. As he tried to turn onto River Road, his car was momentarily stopped due to a few straggling protestors crossing in front of him. Watching the people crossing in front of him as well as traffic, Donald didn’t notice when one of the protestors stuck a tracer bug to the rear of the car. As they drove away, the protestor pulled out his phone and hit a contact number.
It was an easy drive into the Quarter, where they parked down on Decatur. As they were going to a dressy/casual restaurant, Lynda was wearing a frilly sleeveless top and leggings, while Donald was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, slacks, and a leather vest, which was a bit unusual for him. A quick walk into the Quarter on Bienville led them to a seafood restaurant, where they had wonderful dinner.
With a few drinks and good food in their bodies, they started down Bienville towards Bourbon Street, planning to start hitting the bars. Suddenly, Donald’s internal alarm started going off. He stiffened, his head starting to swivel. Lynda, her hands around his right arm, glanced at him, clearly concerned. Without stopping, he moved her from his right side to his left, freeing his arm.
Fantastic Schools, Volume 3 Page 13