Federal Agents of Magic Boxed Set

by T. R. Cameron

  The elf nodded.

  “My fears were well-founded. We bought the best available, but those who are truly extraordinary have already been contracted by others seeking power and status on Earth.”

  Nehlan frowned, and rage stirred.

  Others indeed.

  They would see both worlds under their control, reserving the choicest parts for themselves. He suppressed his anger with a thin smile.

  Once the humans are dealt with, we will move into the endgame, and then we will see who gets what.

  He shook his annoyance off. “This does not make us look good in the eyes of those above. Not good at all.” The dwarf finished his wine with a nod, and Nehlan waved the human servant forward to refill it. “I see only a single option at this moment. Have you seen it as well?”

  Kergar gulped half the liquid and set his wineglass down carefully. His face twisted again “Yes, master. I will have to take care of this myself.”

  “Indeed, you shall. There’s no moment like the present.” He gestured again, and the human man came to escort his subordinate back to the portal room.

  Nehlan drank his wine with a satisfied smirk. The sterro fruit was indeed the delicacy he had promised but was also a potent poison that built up in the body over time. The wines he served all contained an ingredient that delayed the onset of the poison, but when sufficient time passed, guests at his table would find their magic dwindling, consumed from within by the tiny seeds hidden in the fruit’s flesh. Once the host died, the seeds would congeal and form a stone that carried the being’s power. He thought of the jewelry in the locked and warded case in his bedroom—a matching set of bracelets, rings, and a necklace that were already one-third adorned with power taken from those he’d killed. Someday, events would see it completed, and then he would truly be a force to reckoned with.

  As he often told his lieutenants, deal with the now, but always, always keep one eye focused on the distant future.

  Kergar stepped out of the portal with a curse. “The arrogant bastard thinks he can condescend to me? Well, after these humans are dead, we’ll see what we’ll see. Perhaps his boss finds him as annoying as I do.” That idea brought a grin to his face as he opened the door from the barren back room that was his landing space and entered the main room of the bar.

  The Twisted Lizard was a dingy place, one of many fronts he had set up at the outset of the operation. A human behind the bar nodded, and Kergar whispered a word under his breath that pierced the illusion to reveal Enthan’s true features. He swept his gaze across the room, which was filled primarily with his lieutenants in disguise as well as some purely human retainers and hangers-on. He gestured at the front door and spoke a word, and the door slammed, startling those arranged at the square tables that occupied the majority of the space. The few at the bar did not react. They were his best and knew his mercurial moods well. He could still surprise them on occasion for a laugh, but more often than not, he enjoyed the fact that with them, he didn’t have to pretend—unlike with the pretentious asshole who currently made his life difficult.

  He raised his voice. “We’re in operational mode as of now, people. Our first foray was a failure due to the weakness of those we sent. It’s time for us to show these foolish governmental drones the truth of their inferiority.” He gestured to two of his lieutenants at the bar and pointed at a side door. “A free round for everyone, Enthan.”

  The room cheered as his pair of underlings closed the door behind them and cut the small office off from the rest of the bar. Kergar trudged behind the old desk and sat in the worn chair behind it.

  Worn. Everything about this place is worn. Everything about this planet is worn. It needs to be razed and created anew.

  His lieutenants sat in the equally threadbare chairs across the desk. They operated exclusively as a pair and had been with him for some time. Drisnan was the leader of the two, by virtue of his quick intellect and was an experienced wizard. Cresnan was the muscle, a rough-skinned Kilomea who towered over his partner. Their long experience together led to an unspoken understanding that made them formidable foes.

  “It’s like we told you, boss,” the larger one said. “We need to take out the whole organization. Set up an incident—maybe blow up some buildings—and kill them when they respond.” His partner nodded, a bloodthirsty grin on his face.

  Kergar spread his hands. “I would like nothing better, believe me. But it is still too soon for the Remembrance to come to light. We must continue to move in the shadows. So, here’s a different idea.” He gestured and an image appeared in midair, a frozen moment from the battle that had claimed Insela and Giandeh. Two humans were present, a tall man and a shorter woman. Each had displayed power during the fight, and the man had also defeated Lienne on his own. They were, in their own way, almost as considerable a danger as the pair before him.

  “Perhaps the thing to do is to attack the head and weaken the body. These two were the most effective in the battle at the house. Which should be dealt with first?”

  The mind and the muscle looked at each other and grinned. “The woman, of course.” A predatory gleam shone in their eyes.

  Kergar clapped briskly. “It is decided, then. Find her, isolate her, and kill her.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Diana was tying the final knot of her gi when Lisa finally arrived. “About time. I thought you would be lame and chicken out.”

  The woman dropped her gym bag on the bench next to Diana. “In your dreams. My chat with Steve ran long.”

  “I thought you looked a little breathless and excited.”

  Lisa laughed. “Shut up. Just because you can’t get a date is no reason to make fun of me.”

  “Like I need a reason to make fun of you.” she laughed as her friend stuck her tongue out. “So, is he proving to be everything you thought he’d be, based on his oh so used-car-salesman online profile?”

  Diana took a pair of sweatpants to the face as her companion hurled them from inside her bag in a snappy motion. “Yes, he is, thank you very much. Better, even.”

  “Have you actually been on a date with him, or are you only cyber lovers?” She raised and lowered her eyebrows suggestively.

  Lisa stopped pulling her exercise gear out and pointed a finger at her. “One more wisecrack out of you, woman, and I’ll throw something heavy at you.” She sat and pulled off the thick-heeled trendy shoes she wore. “Like this. Although it would be a tragedy to get blood on something so beautiful.”

  Diana grinned. “I’ll pretend you’re talking about my face, rather than the shoe. When will I get to meet him, so I can tell him all your secrets?”

  “That depends. Will you actually join me at the Beagle at some point or constantly turn me down? I’m sensitive, you know. I can only handle so much rejection.” She sniffed, then pretended to sob.

  “I know.” She sighed. “The new gig has sucked up a lot of time. I’ll do better.”

  Lisa donned a haughty expression. “See that you do, Agent Sheen.” She broke into laughter.

  Diana stood and slipped the blue belt around her waist, knotted it tightly, then rechecked to ensure all the other knots on her uniform were equally secure. It wouldn’t do to have a wardrobe malfunction while rolling. “I’m heading out. Don’t be long, or Jackson will make you do push-ups until your arms fall off.”

  Lisa nodded and moved notably faster.

  Jackson was crazy tall, like six and a half feet. He was proportional and built like a rower or wrestler, more for speed than power. His dark skin set off the pure white of his uniform as he exchanged words with potential clients at the front of the room. The other students milled about the padded floor and bowed respectfully before they stepped into the training area. Jackson was a traditionalist, which was one of the things that drew her to him as an instructor. The fact that he was a bona fide ball-buster and national champion didn’t hurt either.

  Lisa joined her and executed the proper bow Diana had taught her. She had warned her
friend about Jackson’s sixth sense that ensured he was always aware of what went on in his school. Also, she’d cautioned that her behavior would reflect on them both and she thus needed to keep her head in the game.

  “You weren’t kidding. He is cute.”

  “He’s married.”

  “Happily?”

  Diana nodded. “And his wife’s trained for more than a decade. She’d twist your slutty ass into a pretzel before you knew what was happening.”

  Lisa smacked her. “Having a healthy attitude toward sex is not being a slut, Diana. You should try it sometime.”

  “Wench.”

  “Prude. Oh, look, he’s coming this way.”

  The students dashed to arrange themselves in rank order. Diana pushed Lisa into place and slipped into her own position farther up the line. Jackson paced in front of them, reviewed their arrangement, and nodded. He gave a slight bow, and the students returned much deeper ones.

  His voice was deep and resonant. Diana imagined it was how a tiger might sound if speaking English. “Three phases. Drills, sparring, rolling.” He gestured at several higher ranks. “Pairs will work with senior instructors. Get to it.”

  Diana grinned, shook her arms out, and stretched her neck. Her mixed martial arts sessions were one of her favorite activities. It struck her that relocation would mean she’d have to find a new instructor, but she shrugged the worry away. Surely Jackson will have a recommendation, and it’s not like DC is that far from Pittsburgh, anyway. Lisa joined her, and they moved to a corner of the room where one of the senior instructors waited.

  Her friend adopted her “serious and honest” tone. Diana had heard her use it to lie before, but not often. “I’ll try not to embarrass you.”

  She grinned. “You could never embarrass me. But if you make me look stupid, I’ll kick your ass.”

  They were still laughing together when the instructor threw pads at them. “Less talking, more punching.”

  Their mood sobered instantly, and they marched across the width of the dojo. One attacked while the other swung the target pad in position for different moves. When they reached the far side, they switched roles and traveled in the other direction. By the end of the ten-minute warm-up phase, they were both sweaty and energized and threw kicks and punches for all they were worth. Even though it was Lisa’s first time at a mixed martial arts lesson, she had some basic karate in her past, plus kickboxing for exercise, so her moves were adequate for the warm-up. When a loud clap signaled the switch to sparring, a different instructor led her away to review fundamentals.

  Diana crossed the room to where her gym bag sat against the wall and retrieved her gear. She slipped her shin and foot guards on, donned her fingerless gloves, and slid the bite guard into her mouth. There had been a time when she had been one of those who thought the mouthpiece wasn’t important, that she wouldn’t take that hard a hit. A thousand-dollar dental bill for three cracked teeth had quickly corrected her opinion on the matter. She returned to the instructor, who had found a size-appropriate opponent. She raised the glove and bumped fists with him. “Jonathan.”

  “Diana. What’s shakin’?”

  “Same old. You?”

  “Promotion. Moving on up.” He had been with the Secret Service for five years and wanted to be one of the goofballs who ran beside the president’s limousine. Other than that, he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, and Diana enjoyed their bouts. He had short, black military-cut hair, a clean-shaven face, and skin the color of a quality dark beer. He was more muscular than she was but only an inch or so taller. The instructor touched each of them on the shoulder and guided them into position for the start of the round. “Three minutes, full speed, twenty percent power.”

  They launched into motion and traded kicks and punches. Jackson believed control was everything and permitted his students to spar at full speed but pull back at the last instant to avoid damaging their partner. Of course, accidents happened, but the reality of fighting without a ton of stuff weighing her head and chest down met her needs far better than wearing protective gear and full boxing gloves.

  Distracted for a moment, she caught a foot to the cheek, sidestepped to avoid most of its force, and shook her head.

  Focus, Diana.

  She tried to close with him, but Jonathan had a wicked low kick that forced her to block with every half step to avoid a painful blow to the shin.

  And getting nailed in the shin hurts like hell. Even with the pads.

  Diana growled in frustration and tried a new tactic. She timed his next kick and stepped in quickly to deliver a jab to his midsection.

  He blocked it and kicked her in the shin. She hopped backward, angry at herself for not seeing the trap. If it were a real fight, she would attempt a jumping sidekick and then rely on her ground skills, but they had to stay on their feet until instructed otherwise. She threw her own low kick, and he raised his foot to block it, then pivoted to throw that foot in a weak sidekick. A sharp block and a hard push broke his balance. She managed a quick one-two-three jab to the midsection and threw a hook at his head. He ducked it and came up with a double punch to her chest that sent her staggering back.

  She distantly heard the instructor shout, “rolling,” through her battle haze. Her extreme focus on one opponent was a weakness, Jackson had told her, and inadequate should she ever find herself fighting multiple foes. She banished it with a shake of her head and saw Jonathan’s legs tense as his body leaned toward her.

  It wasn’t time slowing down but rather long training that revealed what his next move would be. A smile spread over her face. He rushed forward and grabbed at the lapels of her uniform, his plan to overwhelm her with sheer force. She levered one leg between them, planted it on his midsection, and used his momentum to propel her backward. Diana executed a flawless Tomoe-nage, used her foot to lever him up and over, and grabbed his forearms as he tumbled past. He landed on his back, head to head with her, with a loud thump.

  Captain Kirk had the best moves.

  She spun and latched her legs around him. The landing had blasted his breath away and his defense was sluggish. In an instant, she had locked one of his arms against his body with her legs and bent the other into an armbar. She gave it the slightest pressure and he tapped his hand against his leg.

  With a small crow of victory, she released him, and they both bounced to their feet and exchanged fist bumps again.

  Jonathan grinned. “Nice move. It won’t work next time.”

  Diana returned the smile. “My bag of tricks goes way deeper than that.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Me too.”

  They separated, and Lisa spoke behind her. “He’s cute.”

  She turned and rolled her eyes. “Rule one. You don’t date anyone from your dojo. That has the potential to mess things up for everyone.”

  “You have too many rules, Diana.” Her friend paused, then said with forced casualness, “Will you spar with me?”

  Diana shook her head. “While I have the skills to teach you the basics, I’m definitely not good enough to spar with you here.” She grabbed Lisa by the arm and pulled her across the floor to where one of the most experienced brown belts stood. He was a giant bear of a man who wouldn’t be out of place in a professional football locker room. “Benjamin, my friend is interested in a round of sparring. This is her first day.”

  He smiled and nodded. A deep rumble emanated from his chest as he replied. “Of course. I’d be glad to teach her a few things. She’s not particularly breakable, is she?”

  She grinned. Benjamin’s humor was well camouflaged until you got to know him, and Lisa’s eyes had already widened. “Less than most.”

  He nodded again and gestured the other woman toward the safety gear in the corner of the room. Diana suppressed a laugh as Lisa turned back momentarily and mouthed, “I will kill you for this.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Rath ensured that his bandoliers were properly cr
ossed and secured. He had discovered a patterned shoelace in gray and black in the drawer of awesome random things and had fashioned it into a headband. It was pulled tight and knotted in the back. He looked at the Borzoi, whose nose was an inch away and sniffed at him with warm puffs.

  “Max. Good boy.” He climbed onto the dog’s nose. “Door.”

  Max kept his head tilted so Rath wouldn’t fall as he plodded softly to the front door. Rath crouched. “Launch.” The dog’s head snapped up, the troll jumped, and the combination launched him in a shallow arc to land in perfect balance on top of the control pad for the alarm. He kicked at the cover until it flipped open, then dangled by an arm to punch the buttons in the order he had seen Diana press them. A soft beep sounded as the system disarmed.

  Phase one complete.

  Rath dropped down to the cover, which stuck out like a platform, and stared at the door’s top lock—something called a bolt. He backed up and began to run toward it, then skidded to a stop as common sense momentarily overrode adventurism. Cautiously, he peered over the edge. “Max. Safe.” The dog moved obediently into the space. Now, if he fell, he’d land in Max’s softer fur rather than on the threadbare carpet. He nodded and commenced his run again to vault himself at the lock across the way. He caught it, clutched the upper part, and used his weight to make it turn. When it clicked, he dropped to the next and repeated the procedure. Finally, he landed on the door handle and turned the small lever there.

  “Good. Is good.” He and Max had made it this far before, but no farther. Rath knew Diana would not want them to go out without her, but there was only so much you could learn by training inside.

  Must train.

  The dog moved position and Rath jumped to land on the back of his neck and slid to his collar. He settled into place and grasped it strongly with both hands. “Max. Knob. Turn.”