by T S Paul
“Yuck,” Fergus spit out the mouthful of hay he’d tried to snack on as he climbed down from the hay bales. “Old and dried out. Don’t these hicks around here cover this stuff? Only boring cows eat this.”
As if in response, one of the black and white bovine creatures let out a deep “moo.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, Bessie,” Fergus peered up at the large creature next to him. “I’ve taken down bigger things than you and the rest of your pathetic herd. You don’t see me getting turned into a hamburger now do you? Where the hell am I, do you know?”
Bessie’s large tongue gave Fergus a lick before sucking down a mouthful of fresh grass. Her hot breath made the tiny unicorn shiver all over. Too many remembrances of demons and very large cats.
“Cow slime…” eyeballing a porch on one of the buildings, Fergus jumped.
Landing with a crash he slid across the rotten wood, hitting a barrel full of rainwater, which splashed down onto him. “Aaargh! Can this day get any worse?”
“That depends on your point of view, youngster. Care to explain how a unicorn talks, and why it’s on my porch? This place is supposed to be impossible to find by mortal man,” a deep man’s voice said from the shadows of the building's front door. “Or anyone, actually. You can call this my retirement cottage.”
“Looks more like a dump to me. What did you retire from being an extra on the Dukes of Hazzard?” Fergus snorted out. The place looked more like that really old show about the hillbillies, but he thought he’d be a little nice about it.
The man moved into the light and stared down at Fergus. Dressed like a century-old farmer, he sported a long white beard and floppy hat. “Funny man. I’ll have you know that in my day this was a palace. A modern marvel of technology and convenience.”
Fergus gave it a once over again before snorting. “Unless you mean a convenience store is moving in after they bulldoze the place I’d say you’re lying.”
“Ah, youth. You can call me Woden, by the way. You still haven’t said why you’re all the way out here,” the old man replied.
“Your name is wooden? That matches this dump pretty well. What happened, your parents watched Pinocchio too many times?” Fergus asked him with a laugh.
“Woden. Like Whoa, but with a den at the end,” the old man explained, stressing the pronunciation of his name.
Fergus shook his head, “Not getting it, Woody. Sounds the same to me.”
“My name is old Norse. Listen as I repeat it. The sound of the oh is differen.,” Woden crouched down trying to get Fergus to understand him better. Words were power, after all.
“Dude, seriously, I’m not staying here so who cares if your name is Woody. I always thought Buzz was the better actor, anyway. Can you tell me where I am? I’ve got a Witch to save,” Fergus asked.
“If I tell you, do you promise to stay away from here? Witches and their like are why I’m hidden from reality. The world is changing and not for the better. Best to hide then be dragged into the pit by those who’d roast us for fun. Tell no witches you’ve even seen me here,” Woden replied.
“No idea what you’re even saying right now. Much less where. Have you got food or not, Woody?” Fergus asked. “Time is money and the witches don’t exactly believe what I say is real, anyway.”
“Since when does one of your kind have money? Has Tir Na Nog been resettled?” Woden asked him.
“I’m from Montana by way of Maine. The only nog I know about is that nasty stuff humans drink in the winter. Rum and buttermilk is not a fun combination. Directions? I need to go West,” Fergus muttered. “Seriously now. Which way? I’ve got a Witch to save and I could really use a pizza right now.”
Woden stood up and pointed. “Go that way twenty-five hundred miles or so. Stop when you hit the water. Can’t miss it. The Pacific Ocean is really big.”
“Whatever. You never did say where I am. That sort of thing is super helpful if I have to explain my trip especially to pissed off Witches. Rest in peace or whatever,” Fergus turned away as he drew in power.
“Unicorn, tell your mistress that time heals all wounds. The human’s weakness is also their salvation. The universe can take care of itself if it has to,” Woden stated as he returned to the darkness of the shack.
“Mmm fortune cookies sound really good about now. Thanks for the lunch idea dude, even better than pizza. Later.” Without even a flash, he jumped.
“The world is doomed. We are all lost if that is what serves as a hero today,” Woden muttered as he watched Fergus leave. “Ragnarok will soon be upon us.”
Chapter Nine
Three-hour time differences suck. Nobody of importance was asleep in Briarwood. Dreamwalking requires dreams to work the way it’s supposed to. Still energized from the power I borrowed from Fergus I’d walked the dream paths looking for my family. And didn’t find them!
Nobody inside the valley was sleeping. As a matter of fact there weren’t all that many human or otherwise signatures to be found in it. I could sense something but couldn’t open the door to them. In a lot of ways the dreamscape was similar to Otherwhere’s Hall of Doors. If you replace doors with brains. Once I got inside there was so much I could do, but I had to get inside first. Casting my net a bit wider I searched for a sleeping mind. At this point I’d take a rabbit or a squirrel. The valley was just that empty.
Wolves.
Lots and lots of freaking wolves. Bears and cats too. But it was mostly wolves I was sensing.
When my powers brushed up against a human mind things got just a bit clearer.
“Six freaking months?” In this state of mind or body nobody could hear me, but I shouted it out anyway. I’d been in California in some sort of Kitsune wonderland for six freaking months! And the world stood on its ear and wept…
Ugh. So stupid. Diving into the human further, I dug around a bit. Not the one directly in charge. He was the lieutenant. Just enough in the know to allow me to see the full picture from the government's side. Or at least the ones in power. Like the president and my former nemesis, the FBI director. It was the dragons that touched the whole thing off, and ultimately it was my own damn fault!
For a human, the sleeping man was really in the know about many things. Invading his dreams, giving them a bit of a turn, I was able to really see the whole picture.
Pumping up the public's fear of the supernatural and paranormal was just the start. The new President put pressure on every corner of the country pressing all the correct buttons: loyalty to pack not country, hidden cities, covens, vampire attacks, and the second demon incursion to name a few. Then the dragons attacked. Whether they knew it was about to happen or not they used it as an excuse to bring in troops and lock the cities down. My battle in the skies over New England only gave them more ammunition. Suddenly Witches and Weres were the enemy and not to be trusted among humans. The purge my grandmother feared was on. Or it had been several months ago. Now it was just clean-up. Rounding up everyone and shipping them to relocation camps.
Making the sleeping agent wince in his sleep, I pressed hard on his brain. I needed to know more! Was this the reason I couldn’t find anyone? Digging deeper into the man’s subconscious I found the answers I sought.
“Think of this assignment as a step up Lieutenant. Catching and holding these criminals is your top priority,” Supervisory Agent Larry Lundy instructed. “Washington was just a warm up exercise. This is the real deal here.”
Lieutenant Shane Goody nodded in response. The Washington operation had been a small nightmare to set up and coordinate. More than half of all government agencies were infested by those of paranormal persuasion. In the end they’d just pulled up to each building, surrounded it, identified each and every known Paranormal subject, and removed them. His was one of a half dozen teams just like it. Captured subjects were shipped off to one of three existing facilities prepared specifically for them. This wasn’t the old world and the US government wasn’t the inquisition. Nobody died. At least not on his
team. He’d heard a few rumors, but that was all they were, rumors. It was for their own safety after all.
“Sir, do we know how many are in the valley?” Shane asked Lundy.
“Several hundred we think,” Agent Lundy leaned back in his chair giving the young agent in front of him a steady look. “Briarwood has always been a hotspot for witches and other paranormal creepy crawlies. It was the main focus of the dragon invasion you know.” Flipping through the pile of files on the edge of his desk Lundy pulled the two thickest out. “We’ve had dozens of reports of teams of Weres and Witches stripping the countryside of food and other supplies. All contact with local law enforcement inside the valley ceased during the dragon attack.”
“Humans and others then. We’ll round them up. Is the team I had in Washington available?” Shane asked.
“You bet it is…”
Mentally, I shifted inside the officer’s brain. Background was good, but I needed to know what the hell was going on and… I paused for a moment ticking things off my mental list. Grandmother, my team, and Fergus were what was important to me. They were what I needed to worry about. Digging deeper into the man’s psyche I found what I needed.
“... some kind of freaking shield, sir. It popped up the moment we pulled in. If you start with the crushed patrol car over there looking past the river bend, you can sort of see the shimmer as the sun hit it,” one of the unnamed agents explained.
Lieutenant Shane followed the man’s finger toward the river. Rough rapids formed by the way the river flowed into the valley caused a bit of spray. It was what really sparkled. Not the shield or barrier. But he could see what the man was trying to say. “Does it go all the way around?”
“Sir?” The agent asked him, a puzzled look on his face.
“The valley. Does the barrier go all the way around it?” Shane asked as he studied the road in front of them.
“As far as my guys can see. One of the air units tried to land inside but they bounced right off. It’s not exactly a dome. More like a triangle. The chopper pilot said it was hitting a soft wall. The propellers didn’t break though, which we thought interesting. It’s all in my report to higher, sir,” the man explained.
“And the troops?” Shane gestured to the roadblock just inside the entrance to the valley.
“Weres. They came up to the shield and explained things to us,” the agent started to say.
Holding up a hand I stopped him. “What things?” I demanded.
The man in front of me looked up at the sky for a moment before speaking. Letting out what sounded like a sigh he began again. “The wolves were in charge. He said his name was Moore, Robert Moore. Mr. Moore told us the city of Briarwood was closed to government interference. Tourists and refugees would always be welcome but not anyone from the United States government or that of the State of Maine. His exact words sir.”
“Seriously? Well, that can’t be allowed to stand. We have to get in there,” Shane stated. Pulling out his cell phone he made a call. If magic was involved he’d need someone on the inside and the new FBI had those sort of resources. Speaking into the phone he cursed a few times then nodded.
Looking back at the agent in front him he grimaced. “My contact in Washington said it’s now a waiting game. Those bitches in there have sealed the whole damn thing in! As I said earlier, I won’t lay down on this one. Assistant Director Dalton might say he knows how these people operate but he isn’t the one out on the sharp end of things these days. Lock it down. I want active and armed agents every twenty feet around this place. They want to stay there? Fine we’ll let them. But no one and I do mean no one leaves. Call in the freaking National Guard if you have to but lock it all down now.”
Damn. That explains some of it. All I could think of was my family and my friends. If Robert Moore was there Catherine was safe for sure. No way on earth he’d allow something to happen to her. As one of the Species Council enforcers Moore had the capability to move literal mountains of red tape and money. Grandmother must have called in all her favors to get him there.
The name Dalton was troubling though. I hadn’t heard from my old mentor Jack in a long, long time. He was supposed to be retired in rural Texas. That’s what he’d said the last time we spoke. No way he’d volunteer for something like this. It had to be a coincidence.
Ghost-like I passed through the shields and entered the valley. For once, being literally little more than a thought rather than substance was advantageous.
“Did any of you manage to track him at all?” My grandmother was pacing the floor in Belial’s room. The self-aware former Christmas tree looked much like it did the last time I’d seen him, full and green. He was yet another of my childhood accidents. I’d wanted more friends so I made one. Only I would have both a talking unicorn and tree in my life. Belial pretty much embodied the house now. His magic took it over making the structure practically indestructible.
Robert Moore sat with most of my team on the couch. Minerva, Callimachus, and a dozing Faith Vick took up the other chairs. Leaning forward Robert grunted to clear his throat. “None of my folks are capable of that. My…” he paused for a moment as if thinking of a word. “Call them my contacts if you like. But I heard through channels that a small gas station outside the capitol had a close encounter of the equine kind. A small talking horse appeared suddenly on the main counter. It stole four packs of snack cakes, beef jerky, and pizza shaped bubble gum before disappearing. That’s the only report we’ve managed to find so far. Was that his first landing, or were there others?”
Cat and Chuck stared at each other for a moment as if communicating telepathically. That’s what it looked like to me at least. Cat shook her head looking up at her father. “We have no idea. Fergus has said he jumped places all the time, but it was only a year or so ago that we even knew he was magical. You’ve got a unicorn on the council, can’t he track him for you?”
Robert winced. “As we understand it, Fergus isn’t a member of the herd. While they might’ve accepted him after that mess in Montana, it didn’t last. The first time they asked him to do something, he balked. Too independent for them, we think. And even if he was still a part, wizards cannot be tracked.”
But he can be. Reaching up to my throat, I felt for my bag. My spirit bag. Insubstantial I might be, but the bag was still there. The kitsune hadn’t removed it. If it was there... what else was there besides the bracelets. It was something to think on once I finished up here and returned to California. Somehow I needed to contact someone soon before I was drawn back.
Chapter Ten
“A witch walks into a bar,” I exclaimed, linking into Faith’s dreams.
The entire scene surprised me. Living with my grandmother up on the estate, I had a sheltered lifestyle. Fearing my power and influence, my aunt Camilla turned everyone around me against me. My power was too strong, too uncontrollable, and too strange. Things happened around me. Some were not always good. Because of that, I was kept home a lot. Beyond the surface, the town or Briarwood was a mystery to me. It still was even not that I was an adult. At the academy and on some of our assignments, we’d gone to restaurants and a few smaller bars as par for the course. But a place like Knockers was beyond me. Not something I expected from my local small town.
Red and orange lights are what caught my attention at first. That and the acrid smell of spicy chicken. I’d seen the signs and read the menus. It wasn’t just local motels that carried them. Knockers was a national chain combining food, alcohol, and beautiful women.
“Hello there, welcome to Knockers. How many?” The overly perky young girl at the front desk asked as I walked in through the front doors.
Before answering I let my FBI training take over. Marked exits were on either side of the place along with what I suspected were kitchen doors. There were a few shabbily dressed men sitting along the bar either drinking or staring blankly at the many television screens scattered about. Employee wise I could only see three girls, one of which was Fait
h. She was behind the bar.
Smiling, I replied to the hostess, “Just me thanks. May I sit at the bar?”
“Sure! It’s full service so if you want food just ask,” she replied, waving me forward.
Weaving to my left instead of straight, I kept one eye on the patrons, the other on my target. From what little I knew about the girl, this wasn’t a place I imagined I’d see her. The valley wasn’t supposed to be restrictive for young witches, at least according to grandmother. I’d been trained to possibly take over the Coven one day so I’d been taught all the rules and stuff. Just because I couldn’t go out didn’t mean the others were trapped with me.
Wiping the bar down, Faith looked over at me with a smile. Her dream self looked almost exactly like I remembered except for a bit more boobage up top. Getting a closer look as she handed over a menu, I changed my internal comment to a lot more. She was definitely stacked! Kind of a surprise for little ol’ sheltered me. Signing her name on a napkin, she smiled again and asked what I’d like to drink.
“Something diet?” I asked her. Alcohol didn’t mesh all that well with my magic on a good day and this was a dream after all. Taking advantage of her distraction as she filled my glass, I asked some questions. “Faith? Do you remember me from town? You’re in my grandmother’s coven, aren’t you?”
With a smile, the young witch turned bartender looked up at me. “Coven? Is that a new drink? We’ve got one called Black Magic.”
“No. Don’t you remember the battle a few months ago, with the dragons? You were part of a commando raid. Any of that ring a bell?” I asked her, trying to break through her dream state.
Khonsu stressed to me that dreamwalking was as much a fist fight as it was a question and answer session. Dreaming minds become locked into whatever fantasy or altered reality the dreamer thought of. Interrupting those dreams took effort and practice. And this was my first time.