Rick or Treat: A Fae Killers Novel (The Fae Killers Book 3)

by Jaxon Reed

  Rick shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. On most alternates, New York is the most important city for hundreds of years, especially in the latter part of the timeline. So when Cait’s sensors are planted, sometimes they’re concentrated where they’ll be needed. Or where she thinks they’ll be needed. London, New York, Rome. Nobody knew that Houston would become the dominant North American city here.”

  MacGraw maintained a skeptical expression. He said, “Be that as it may, Ah am still supposed to accept the fact that the Germans are planning to blow up everybody at the All Hallow’s Eve Ball based on a message from New York. Why would they do that? More importantly, how would they get away with it?”

  Rick shrugged. He said, “Who knows if they’re just aiming for the Texas delegates, or everybody? On my alternate, Hitler made a secret pact with Stalin, and they both agreed to partition Poland. Russia took the eastern part and Germany took the west, over to Warsaw. Things were going well until Hitler reneged and sacked Warsaw, killing all the Russian troops stationed there. Then he marched into Belarus.

  “Stalin was furious and felt Hitler betrayed him, and World War Two was on. In other alternates, Poland was to be left alone and Hitler used deception to gin up an excuse to raid it anyway. A common thread always involved tricking people, whether it was convincing Chamberlain he wanted peace, or fooling Stalin they could be friends. Inevitably, on every world, the Nazis betray everybody and start the worst war seen to that date.

  “As for what’s going on here and now, if I had to guess I’d say he aims to wipe out as many diplomats as he can, then attack somewhere in the aftermath. Think of the confusion with all those diplomats dead.

  “He obviously foresees Texas as a threat when things start moving on the continent. England, too. In my world, we used England as a giant aircraft carrier, and bombed the heck out of Germany while Russia’s army decimated their manpower in the east.”

  MacGraw’s expression shifted from skepticism to thoughtfulness. He said, “When we get through this, Ah’ll have to talk to you about how your side won that war. You might be able to provide us some valuable insights.”

  “I can tell you it’s a two-pronged war for the American . . . uh, Allied side. It involves fighting the Empire of Japan in the Far East at the same time. Their big trick was to try and wipe out our fleet at Pearl Harbor in a sneak attack. They were willing to fight to the last man, too, until we dropped the atom bomb on them, forcing a surrender.”

  MacGraw’s face grew visibly troubled. He said, “What was the date of that attack on Pearl Harbor?”

  “December 7th, 1941. ‘The date of infamy,’ as our President called it.”

  “We definitely need to talk after this is over. Ah may be able to do something about that. For right now, we’ll have Dorn take you back to Louie’s and get outfitted for a tux. You’re coming with us to the All Hallow’s Eve Ball.”

  -+-

  Smitty peered over the technician’s shoulder. This fellow was young, Smitty thought, like most of the men and women working in the embassy basement. Early 20s. Light brown hair, cut short. Both men looked through the open metal door in the side of ENIAC at a large array of vacuum tubes, stretching up a giant breadboard ten feet tall and three feet wide.

  “We’ve isolated it to this panel, Mr. Smitty,” the technician said.

  “Right. You know the drill. Yank the tubes and put them on the tester. Replace the faulty ones. And check for obstructions in the sockets. If it’s another cockroach, so help me, I’ll pummel that useless exterminator.”

  ENIAC had been down for a period of time some months back and Smitty’s team had pulled most every tube, even the ones known to be good. But nobody could pinpoint the problem. At long last one of the technicians noticed a roach crushed inside a socket. When it was cleaned out, ENIAC worked properly again. Since then, the technicians had come to call any computer problems a “bug.” The term stuck.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The young technician immediately began twisting and pulling out each tube in the array as far up as his hands could reach. When they were all out of the breadboard and in a basket, he retrieved a stepladder to pull the remaining ones higher up.

  Smitty nodded, made a notation on his clipboard, and left the young man to his task. He walked back toward the entry room, through a veritable labyrinth of panels and corridors all humming with electricity and the soft glow of vacuum tubes.

  The air crackled in front of him.

  He stopped and stared at the space that had snapped at about the same level as his stomach.

  “There should not be any static electricity,” he said to himself. “This entire place is grounded.”

  The air crackled again. This time a black rip in the fabric of reality appeared, floating briefly before him. It popped out of existence just as suddenly.

  “That’s a new one.”

  Absently, Smitty looked over his shoulder to see if the technician might also have noticed the odd phenomenon. But the young man was nowhere in sight.

  The air crackled a third time. The black scar returned, about a foot tall and four inches wide this time. Slowly, it moved toward him. Smitty took an involuntary step backward. The scar rushed forward and sucked the clipboard out of his hands.

  POP!

  The technician ran out into the corridor. He said, “What was that?”

  Shaken, Smitty said, “I don’t know. But whatever it was grabbed my clipboard!”

  “Are you sure, sir? Maybe it just fell out of your hands or something.”

  The two men looked on the floor, but could not find the clipboard anywhere.

  -+-

  Louie said, “I hate that I’m rushing another order for you, Mr. Strickland.”

  Rick stood on a small platform holding his arms out while Louie and two assistants took multiple measurements. Baxter and Angela waited outside in the car.

  “A truly bespoke suit involves multiple fittings over several sessions,” Louie continued. “What we’re doing for you here is simply altering a pre-made outfit.”

  Rick smiled in acknowledgement and said, “Don’t worry about it. That last suit you gave is one of the best I’ve ever owned. And I’ll probably wear this tux once and be done with it. Seems pointless to go to a lot of trouble.”

  “What you do with our products is none of our concern, of course. But it’s my job to make sure we offer you the very best clothes we can deliver.”

  Louie made a few more notations on a notepad and copied down the measurements his assistants had taken.

  He said, “Do you have any special requests for this tuxedo, Mr. Strickland? Any particulars you prefer? I presume you’ll want a shawl lapel, for instance.”

  Rick shrugged. He said, “Just make it look good.”

  Then he was struck by a thought. He said, “Hey, Louie. Do you have any iron buttons?”

  “Iron? That’s not a very common material for clothing. Tends to rust, I’m afraid. Especially in London’s weather.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. But if it’s possible, I’d love to have iron buttons. And an iron pin for the boutonniere. In fact, if you have any spare iron pins, I’d like several to be included in this order.”

  Louie stopped and stared at Rick speculatively for several moments. He had a wide nose and balding head, with longer locks of straight hair around the sides and back to compensate. In another place and time he would have had plenty for a comb-over, but in keeping with current styles he let them hang down. Rick thought he looked like a Jewish Benjamin Franklin.

  “If I may be so bold,” Louie said, “what do you want so much iron for, Mr. Strickland?”

  “Uh . . . in case I meet up with some fae.”

  The two assistants stopped, young men evidently serving as apprentices under Louie. They stared at Rick, then at one another.

  They burst into laughter.

  The assistants left the room chuckling. The last one through the door flashed a smile over his shoulder on the way out. He said, �
�That’s a good one, sir!”

  Rick smiled back but when they shut the door he returned his attention to Louie.

  He said, “So, how about that iron?”

  Louie said, “You’re serious?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You intend to take on fae with iron pins and buttons?”

  “Well . . . yeah. Unless you have something better that’s made out of pure iron? Like a blade, or a sword, or even a sharpened rod. And not steel, either. Pure iron.”

  Louie stuck the pencil in his ear and smiled at Rick. He said, “I do think you’re serious and not making fun of us.”

  “Making fun of you? Look, I’m not from around here and I’m sure I put my foot in my mouth several times a day. But I am in no way trying to insult you or . . . or your people.”

  “Alright. So, you’re not familiar with Jewish folklore?”

  “Jewish folklore? Uh . . . what about it?”

  “Monsters?”

  “Oh. Well, I’ve read a little about your Golem.”

  Louie responded with a blank look on his face.

  Rick said, “You know. A monster made of mud? The Golem of Prague?”

  Louie shook his head. He said, “Never heard of it. No, the monster I was referring to is the Fae of Eden.”

  Rick’s eyebrows shot up as several things clicked into place.

  He said, “So, you have a tradition of fae persecuting your people?”

  Louie nodded. “The Fae of Eden tricked Adam and Eve into eating the forbidden fruit. And then he mostly disappears from the Biblical record. But we have a long tradition of his animosity for the descendants of Abraham. The rabbis say he wanders the world, seeking to sow distrust and hatred for Jews among the nations, always scheming to destroy as many of us as he can. Unfortunately, he’s been successful over the centuries time and again.”

  Rick said, “So, he’s never been killed?”

  Louie shook his head. “Only wounded in battle. And then, at great cost every time. He always kills his opponents before they can finish him off. Some have gotten close but have never seen it all the way through.”

  “When was the last time that happened?”

  “The year 1607, we think. There were no survivors, but it’s widely believed a group of King James’s soldiers faced the Fae of Eden and gravely wounded him outside London. At any rate, no one else ever claimed responsibility for the massacre, and that remains the simplest explanation.”

  “So, what you need is . . . someone who can’t be killed.”

  “I suppose. That, and a way to find him. Since then nothing but rumors and stories have cropped up. A peasant village in Russia is wiped out. Spanish authorities investigate entire regions where everyone is found dead. You can’t really tell what is rightfully attributed to the fae, or natural phenomena. No one knows much of anything for certain. It is said he can disguise himself as a human and walk among us undetected.”

  “Well Louie, I think I can handle both finding him and killing him. If you can get me some iron weapons, I’ll take care of the rest.”

  5

  Toya said, “Cait is making good progress on her rebooting process. She’s got about 70 percent capacity on Rick’s world right now. It seems progress is exponential, too. The further along she gets, the faster she goes.”

  Nancy smiled, tentatively. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and said, “That sounds good. Can she give him any support?”

  “Looks like she’s established communications through local channels. She’s not able to do a whole lot for him at the moment other than monitor and send messages. I hope to have a video feed of some sort soon, so we can maybe follow his progress.”

  “That’s great. How are the others?”

  “I have a bead on Jason. He’s on an alternate in the American West, early 1880s.”

  “Oh, that’s pretty close to his original timeline. He likes that period.”

  “Yeah, but it appears the fae have introduced a weird anomaly. Some kind of zombie plague.”

  “A zombie plague?”

  “Evidently the locals got infected with a virus of some sort. If I had to guess I’d say it’s one of those stupid golden bracelets again. And with frontier medicine, nobody knows what to do.”

  “Is he okay? Can we see him yet?”

  “Yeah, it looks like Cait is further along in her reboot on that alternate. I’m seeing over 90 percent. She’ll be able to reestablish contact with him soon through his neural interface.”

  Toya made a motion with her hand, and the holographic screen changed, showing the Walker.

  -+-

  The redheaded boy pulled Jason in and slammed the door shut. The cabin’s dim interior revealed two more people: a woman in her late 30s and a younger boy, perhaps ten or eleven years old. They all had the same shade of dark auburn hair and seemed obviously related.

  The interior of the house looked rough and crude. It was built from logs, sealed with mortar between the cracks. On a rough wooden plank floor, a large handmade table and chairs appeared scuffed and scarred from daily use. Two more chairs in front of a fireplace made from local river rocks took up one wall. Along the back a cast iron hand pump perched over a sink, and a large wood-burning stove stood ready to handle cooking duties. Jason noticed all the windows were boarded up.

  The Walker turned back to the family. He towered over all of them. His blond hair hung down to his shoulders. On many alternates he could pass for a Viking, or any Northern European. That was without Cait to change his looks, if needed. But if he were indeed in the American Wild West, as he suspected, there would be no need to alter his appearance here. It was too late for that, anyway.

  He addressed the woman and said, “Do you know what’s going on out there?”

  She nodded, and said, “Ever since a star fell into Indian territory a few weeks ago, they’ve been acting funny. Now their dead walk among us.”

  A low, guttural growl accompanied shuffling footsteps on the porch, as if agreeing with her.

  “Is it like this every night?”

  The woman said. “Pretty much. They can be active in the daytime, too.”

  He glanced down at the gold band on her finger. He said, “And your husband?”

  She twisted the ring nervously and said, “They got him a few days ago.”

  A low groan drifted in from outside. The steps to the front porch squeaked, then a slow, scuffling sound came from outside the walls.

  They heard a thumping at the door as dead flesh pounded slowly on the wood.

  The younger boy trembled and hugged his mother tighter. The older boy walked over and picked up a rifle propped up in one corner. He cocked it, working the lever action, and aimed it at the door.

  Jason said, “Have they ever made it in?”

  The oldest boy said, “Just when they got Pa. He tried to fight ’em off the porch, but they got him. We managed to push ’em out and shut the door again.”

  The scuffling continued around the front door. Soon the steps creaked again and several more dead feet shambled around the planks. Hands slapped against the boarded windows and moans drifted through the door.

  Jason said, “This is maddening. How do you sleep?”

  The woman shrugged. She said, “During the day, mostly. They’re less active in daytime.”

  Jason looked over the rifle the boy held. He said, “Have you tried to thin the herd?”

  The boy nodded and said, “Yes, sir. But they’re hard to kill. They don’t go down easy. And they stay alive when they do go down. Pa shot a bunch of ’em that first night when they dragged him away.”

  Jason said, “You’ve got to aim for the head. That’s the only way to take a zombie out.”

  The woman said, “You know these things? You know what they are?”

  He nodded. “I’ve seen some in my time. Read about them, too. How much ammo do you have?”

  The boy pointed at the table, where a six-shooter and several boxes of ammunition were sp
read out like a buffet. Jason walked over and picked up the revolver. He opened the cylinder and spun it before shutting it again.

  Jason pointed his chin at the rifle the boy held and said, “Both guns shoot the same caliber?”

  The boy nodded.

  Jason said, “Alright. I’m going to take out the ones on the porch.”

  The woman gasped and the younger son tightened his grip around her waist again. Jason walked swiftly to the door and removed the wooden beam barring the way. He opened it and stepped out with the gun.

  Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!

  He stepped back inside and barred the door behind him. He walked over to the table, opened the cylinder, ejected the spent shells and reloaded.

  “Well, that’s six down. Let’s hope the noise doesn’t bring any more.”

  The boys and their mother stared at him. The younger boy’s mouth gaped open in astonishment. Jason looked into the woman’s eyes and he could see her exhaustion and stress staring back at him.

  “I tell you what,” he said. “You people get some sleep. I’ll stay up and keep an eye on things.”

  He spun the cylinder again and slammed it home with a loud Click!

  -+-

  Back at Headquarters, Nancy leaned away from the screen.

  She said, “Looks like Jason’s got the situation under control there.”

  Toya pointed at another virtual screen floating in the corner. She said, “Oh, look! I’m getting some more data on your man Rick. Cait must be getting closer to going fully online over there.”

  “Wonderful!” Nancy grinned and clapped her hands together. “Can you get a visual?”

  “Hold on . . . yeah, here we go.”

  -+-

  “Alrighty then. Here’s the plan.”

  MacGraw towered over the other dozen men and women dressed in tuxedos and ball gowns.

  “Ah have sent non-essentials home. Even mah lovely wife and daughter are on a plane bound for Houston as we speak.”