Victor nodded. “They are trying to weaken our morale.”
“That message could start a panic. A lot of the Magicals are pretty high strung as it is.”
“And how’s your morale, Iowa?”
“Demolished,” I admitted. “Couldn’t save Sam or Clyde or the Lindas. I saw Peter Smythe and I couldn’t get to him.”
“Your father.”
“Don’t call him that.”
“He was my closest friend before we…fell out. What do you think makes him work with the Darkness Visible, Iowa?”
“I can’t imagine what would make someone a traitor.”
“I can,” Victor said. Despite the fact that we were alone, he leaned closer and whispered. “Some species of the Ra do not age as we do.”
“They’re a different species,” I said. “I’d be surprised if they did. Doesn’t every species have a different expected lifespan?”
“No, that’s not what I mean. They might be able to offer humans a longer and healthier life.”
“Not worth it,” I said. “I’ll just eat more kale and fewer hotdogs.”
“They have certain factors in their blood that we lack but are compatible. They’re stronger, and not just because of size. If they weren’t as strong as they are, they wouldn’t have survived the changes in their dimension’s atmosphere this long. They have adapted to their environment. The changes have killed many, but our information is that those who have survived…genetically, they are a superior breed. In their blood, there are secrets that could benefit us.”
“What are you saying?”
Victor looked at me in a new way, as if he was searching for lies. “Tam…did the monster…did Key say anything to you that you found persuasive?”
“What are you asking me?”
“Just tell me, did he offer you anything? A bargain for you personally, perhaps? Or maybe he just slid in some propaganda about how we can all share our planet and coexist peacefully?”
“He said we demonize them,” I said. “Again, no pun intended and no pleasure taken.”
“But did you believe him?”
“Of course not! With what they did to Sam and — ”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I had to ask. I have to know your reaction. Your father wasn’t so sure about our cause. He tried to talk to me about his misgivings, but I didn’t take him seriously.”
“Why? What did he say?”
“It doesn’t matter. He was wrong. We call them monsters for a reason.” He put a finger to his lips to silence me. “When the demons come, they won’t be riding on a mission of mercy. They are soulless killers. Have no illusions.”
“They don’t like holy objects and blessed swords kill them best. Pretty strong clues, Victor.”
“Good. Good.”
“But? ”
“No buts.”
“How do you know about the Ra’s biology, sir?”
He whispered so low I could barely hear him. “We’ve been examining the bodies of the Ra that fell during the incursion on the Keep. We’re looking for more ways to kill them. We’re learning, but slowly.”
“And?”
He hung his head. “There’s still so much we don’t understand. Aside from a researcher we’re consulting from the Vatican, there’s no intersection between science and magic. All we know is that what looks like magic now will eventually become science. We always figure it out eventually, and just like with every magic trick you’ve ever seen, the truth is simple and disappointing. It’s all smoke and mirrors. When we figure out the truth and solve the mystery, it becomes science again.”
“Sure, if D-Day doesn’t arrive first. It’ll be hard to figure out the truth when the Ra rampage through every university in the world breaking microscopes and eating cheerleaders, football players and the science department.”
Victor stood and straightened until he was stiff. I could tell he was about to get into the mode of slinging orders. He was the conductor of the Choir Invisible again. “Iowa, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the Keep. We’ll find something else for you to do, away from the battlefield.”
I pointed at my broken arm. “Sir! Really? It’s just one broken arm and you need every singer, broken wing or not.”
His eyebrows furrowed and I stood, eager to suggest a mission and a strategy instead of having a bad idea imposed on me. I followed the conductor’s orders, but he had always been collaborative and willing to hear his singers out before making up his mind. “How about I take some Magicals and go work on rebuilding the library database? If the Magicals aren’t at the Keep, maybe we can make them safe from invaders or more traitors like Lynda.” Or my father, I thought.
“What if the demons tell someone else about the bargain they want to strike? They’ve obviously been watching us,” I said. “Who knows where they’ll strike next? They burned Castille to the ground! What if they hit up one of the noobs with the same deal and somebody goes on a killing spree? If one Magical dies at the hands of a member of the Choir, it’ll tear the Keep apart before the Ra even get here.”
Victor shook his head. “I already have others working on the database and research. I’ll take steps to ensure the magic folk are safe in the Keep.”
“C’mon. Don’t bench me, coach. I’m injured, but I can help. I can lead if you give me the chance. You know I can still do that. The PTSD won’t kick in until after we’ve won D-Day, I promise.”
“That’s too big a promise, Iowa, and no, you can’t be here. I need you at your best.”
“Working second string rolling bandages and cooking hash in the mess while the front line sword singers attack on the vanguard — ”
“No,” he said firmly. “I have an important mission for you. You have done all you can here, but elsewhere, you may be able to turn the tide of this war.”
“No shit? You aren’t just blowing me off?”
He looked like he was about to lose patience. “Had you asked that question this morning, my answer would have been different. However, since the attack at Castille, it seems all bets are off. The Ra masked their intent. They are more devious than I expected. They somehow trapped Rory — we still have to figure that out. They made us think danger is everywhere. Perhaps it really is. I won’t underestimate them again. I pray you won’t, either.”
“What’s the mission?”
“Go home.”
“What?”
“Go home, Iowa. We need you in Medicament. That’s where you’ll unleash our secret weapon.”
Chapter 22
I still worried that Victor was trying to get me out of harm’s way until he told me I wouldn’t go on the super secret mission alone. “Take a couple of singers with you, just to be safe,” Victor said. “Who would you choose for an away mission?”
“Manhattan.”
“No, I can’t spare her. If D-day comes while you’re away, I need her here.”
“Makes sense,” I said, though I was disappointed. Manny was my best friend in the Choir Invisible. I always felt safer with her by my side.
“Wilmington and Trick were injured. I’ll take them.”
“Slightly injured,” Victor said. “I do hate to be without my bodyguard. Wilmington saved me today.”
“If there’s danger everywhere and you won’t let me have Manny with me, give me Wil.”
“And the new boy? What good is he to you?”
“Wil took a bullet for you and Trick took a bullet for me.”
“I see.”
“Besides, when D-day comes, I think standing in the way of flying spears is all he’ll be good for. He’s safer with me.”
“He’s supposed to be there to protect you and fulfill the mission.”
“And he proved he’s up for protecting me already.”
Victor paused a long moment before giving a slow nod. “Fine. If you think that’s best for the mission.”
Okay, I admit it. My motivations where Trick was concerned weren’t entirely pure and strategic. But if you got a cha
nce to pick a hottie to be your lab partner in high school, you’d do it, too, even if it meant more homework for you. I still felt dead inside and I wanted Trick around to remind me of something good. I wanted to feel something good again. I wanted the blonde guy with the cool Irish accent by my side, when I was walking around and waking up in the morning.
Dr. Moosejaw returned, ready to put my forearm in a cast. Victor gave the medic a nod. “Please fix her up nicely, Doctor. I need Iowa back in the fight as soon as possible.”
“How long will I be gone?” I asked.
At the door, Victor turned. “That will depend on a number of factors. One more thing: I’ll send Chumele with you.”
I hadn’t spent much time with the Magicals and didn’t relish having a grandma around for a mission if it was dangerous. “I thought Chumele preferred to stay below ground.”
“I’d prefer to be on a beach in Spain sipping wine each night in a restaurant with a magnificent view of Madrid,” Victor said. “We all must make sacrifices. Take her with you, Iowa.”
“Yes, sir. But you haven’t told me exactly what you want me to do.”
“Mr. Chang knows what to do when the time comes. He’ll conduct this mission.”
“Oh. Yes, sir. I won’t let you down, sir.”
When Victor was gone, I sagged in my chair. I’d thought I was going to be in charge. Medicament was my home town. However, Kevin Chang, my hapkido instructor, was a founding member of the Choir Invisible. When he wasn’t training singers in the art of combat in a secret fortress in Brooklyn, my little town was his home, too.
Lesson 129: No underling is as important or indispensable as they think they are, especially to the boss. I had yet to learn that, as a friend, I wasn’t as essential as I thought, either.
“Dr. Moosejaw?”
“Yes?”
“Do you regret ever your choice of name?”
He chuckled. “Nope. When I was born, I chose my parents and my place of birth very carefully.”
I should have done that.
Chapter 23
I’d never flown in a helicopter and my stomach seemed to stay on the ground as we lifted off abruptly.
Trick sat by my side but the rotors were so loud we could hardly carry on much of a conversation. That was for the best, anyway. Mr. Chang sat across from me. He’d known my first boyfriend so I felt self-conscious. Under my hapkido master’s silent scrutiny, I put on my warrior-ready-for-battle face.
Wilmington wasn’t fooled. She grinned at me, her eyes shifting back and forth from me to Trick.
I glared at Wil and she smiled wider.
“Are you all ready for battle?” Mr. Chang asked through our headsets.
We all gave him the warrior’s sign: an open palm covering a closed fist (though Trick did it backwards.)
I was worried about flying high above New York in an aircraft without wings. If a plane’s engine fails, at least gliding to a safe landing is a possibility.
I wasn’t worried about being ready for battle. Our seers predicted that D-Day would come to the Keep first. They had been wrong about a few things, though. Victor had expected to die when the demons came to the Keep. Others were taken in his stead.
Despite the heat of Trick’s knee against mine in the cramped helo’s cabin, I pretended to focus my attention on Chumele. I almost had to yell into the microphone on my headset. “Chumele! How accurate would you say your seers’ predictions are?”
“Seers are never wrong,” the old woman said.
“I know that’s not true.”
“Not true here,” she yelled back. “True on some other timeline in some other dimension. It’s more complicated than you imagine.”
That’s Magical logic for you: a prediction might be true somewhere, somewhen. Therefore, they’re never wrong but seldom useful and never dependable.
Fortunately, the helo ride didn’t last long. We set down next to a private jet at the Newark Airport. As the rotor wash pushed and pulled at us, I was glad we’d dressed for an Iowa winter. The temperature had dropped and we all wore armor beneath bulky parkas.
The best part of working for a paramilitary organization under the direction of a secret defense contractor was the ease of air travel. We didn’t have to deal with the TSA. In fact, I saw no one on the tarmac besides one misty wistful who had been burned horribly.
I try not to stare at misty wistfuls so they won’t follow me around. However, it was difficult not to look. I decided the ghost might have been a woman once. She stood in the middle of a runway, staring at the sky.
Mr. Chang stepped beside me. “She watches the planes. She is always looking up.”
“That’s a phrase that would otherwise sound cheery.”
“I suspect she’s from the crash of a Dash-8 in 2009. I noticed her after that plane crashed, not far from here.”
“How long have you been running back and forth from New York and Medicament?” I asked.
“Frequently,” Mr. Chang said. “I had to run a business, train you and keep watch over you.”
“If I didn’t know you,” I said, “that would be creepy.”
“You never really knew me, so it is creepy,” he said. “Your father left you and your mother to try to keep you out of the war. The seers saw your destiny.”
“That sounds kind of Lord of the Rings.”
Mr. Chang smiled. “I read the books.”
“I saw the movies,” I said.
“Any good?”
“Too long and the last one of the trilogy had like, five endings. All those years of training me, why didn’t you just tell me what the deal was?”
“You wouldn’t have believed me until you were ready.”
“Did you ever think I might take a left turn at Albuquerque and have a nice little life with my high school sweetheart? No demons, no war, no dead friends?”
Mr. Chang shook his head. “Brad was a nice boy. His loss was tragic. However, because of who your father was, you would see ghosts eventually. After that, it was all inevitable.”
“I thought nothing was inevitable. That’s why we fight when reason and the odds say don’t bother.”
Mr. Chang sighed. “In my experience, people who deny their destiny always hold the pain and shame of the gap between what they are and what they were meant to be. You are who you are, Iowa.”
“I’ll put that in the next training manual,” I said.
So, Lesson 130: people who deny their destiny always hold the pain and shame of the gap between what they are and what they were meant to be.
Ticked that one off the to-do list. I wish every lesson came that easily instead of having to do things and go through pain.
We transferred our gear to the plane. We each carried a backpack and a cane sword. Mr. Chang wheeled what appeared to be a golf bag full of golf clubs. It was a ruse, of course. Each protective sock looked like it covered the head of a golf club but five katanas were in there.
We also hauled a heavy steamer trunk I assumed was filled with more gear we probably wouldn’t need. Despite my broken wing, I took up a trunk handle with my good arm and helped until we got to the plane.
“Good thing no one is around,” Trick said.
“Yeah, I hate going through airport security,” I said.
He smiled. “No, I mean we look ridiculous. None of us is limping and we’re all carrying canes. At least with that cast in a sling, you look the part. We’d be less conspicuous if we all walked around with canes and top hats and tails.”
Trick wasn’t wrong. When Manhattan and Wil and I wandered the city, we at least carried our umbrella swords with us. Several times, New Yorkers gawked at us. Then they’d point to the clear blue sky. “Doesn’t look like rain, ladies.”
Manny was the one who looked like a runway model. We left it to her to slide her glasses to the tip of her nose and say in an arch British accent, “My dear, don’t be a peasant. The decorative brolly is all the rage in Milan!”
When Manny broke out the
British accent, Wilmington would giggle uncontrollably.
It was always left to me to apologize to the peasant in question. “I’m sorry, ma’am. My friend is insane and we’re just humoring her until we can find her a good Jungian analyst.”
When Wil asked me what a Jungian analyst did, I shrugged and told her it was something I had picked up during my stay at an insane asylum.
“I think they call them mental hospitals now,” Wilmington said.
“The one I was in had an O.G. insane asylum vibe.”
Once we took our seats on the jet, Mr. Chang addressed us. “As far as the world knows, we’re just visiting Medicament. We may be blending in for some time. I heard what you said about the canes, Mr. Aonghus. We shall not congregate in a group unless I call you to do so. Stick with sword umbrellas or other concealed weapons unless I order otherwise.”
Chang paused and I caught his glance at the cast on my arm. “Iowa, you may keep your sword cane. If you forget to limp, tell anyone who asks that you only limp when you are tired. On second thought, find a small rock and put it in one shoe.”
I nodded. I knew better than to roll my eyes in Mr. Chang’s presence, but I wanted to. “Shall I tell the Normies my arm was broken in a life and death struggle with an antlered demon from another dimension bred to kill the human race?”
Mr. Chang didn’t smile. “I’d keep that low key. Say you fell down a flight of stairs. Any other questions?”
Wilmington raised her hand. “For this mission, call me Willow instead of Wilmington.”
“Is that your real name?” Trick asked. “It’s lovely.”
“No,” she said. “I’m a Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan. Without that TV show, I wouldn’t be here, living it in real life.”
“Call me Tam.” I looked at Trick. “That’s my real name and how everyone in Medicament knows me.”
“Keep calling me Trick,” he said.
“Trick,” I said.
He looked at me with eyes so blue I thought of Siberian huskies. “I like how you say it, Tam.”
Ooh. Shivers.
“I had another name once,” Chumele said. “Back in the Philippines, when I was little, they called me Bing.”
The End of the World As I Know It (The Ghosts & Demons Series Book 2) Page 10