“She may have general protections, even if she doesn't know what they’re actually fighting,” Caitlyn pointed out. Golem had confirmed that most sorcerers of his time had never been ill, despite knowing next to nothing about how diseases spread from victim to victim. Indeed, some diseases had definitely been magical, created to be very early biological warfare weapons. “What else can we do?”
“We're working on the nuclear option,” Jorlem admitted. “There are quite a few other tricks we can try; lasers, for example. And we’re still working on just what charms Matt uses when he fires a gun at a supernatural creature. One of us is even considering trying to use the weapons we recovered from Arlington, on the grounds that they might be supernatural. May be a long shot, but it’s worth a try.”
Caitlyn grimaced. Either through malice aforethought or simple coincidence, Harrow had made her appearance in the middle of a populated city. Even if she was in the countryside, well away from population centres, she knew the President would be reluctant to order a nuclear strike. And, for all they knew, Harrow might be capable of walking out of one just fine, even though it seemed impossible.
Jorlem shook his head when she said that out loud. “We have all kinds of researchers working on the problem,” he added. And then he stopped dead. “I think I’ve just had an idea.”
Caitlyn gave him a sharp look. “A workable idea?”
“I think so,” Jorlem said. He was scribbling notes to himself as he spoke. “We'll just have to play with it until we get something we can use against her. I mean...she has to show herself sometime, doesn't she?”
“Let’s hope so,” Caitlyn said. “If she can take over the country without showing her face, we’re screwed anyway.”
Her cell phone buzzed. “Caitlyn, it's Matt,” a voice said. He sounded rather shocked, which worried Caitlyn. After everything else they’d seen, what could shock them now? “We have a...visitor in Mindy’s room. I think you’ll want to see this.”
“Understood,” Caitlyn said. “I’m on my way.”
She closed the cell phone and looked over at Jorlem. “Find something, quickly,” she ordered. “I don’t think that she’s going to be hidden for very long at all.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
New York, USA
Day 36/37
New York was a very scared city.
Harrow stood on top of a skyscraper, a building taller than any that had existed in the past, and drank in the city’s aura. New York was immense, far more densely populated than any city that had existed in her time, a testament to the sheer productive power of the modern world. Quite how they managed to feed so many people was beyond her, although she could see that it would have advantages for her once she’d taken control of the country. She would be able to support a much larger army to take the rest of the world.
The population was nervous, unsurprisingly. New York had seen Calvin’s escape from justice through magic, as well as his brief reign of terror and a vampire prowling their streets. And they’d heard about what had happened in Washington...and they’d been scarred by something else, in the past. Harrow had learned about 9/11 from Calvin while she’d been studying the modern world and the whole thing puzzled her. If there was an ideology that was bent on waging war on the modern world, why not simply destroy it? The modern world seemed remarkably forbearing of threats that could be squashed with relatively little effort.
Harrow pushed the thought aside as she reached out with her mind. All human souls brushed against the dreaming as they slept, even when they were so tired that they didn't sleep. Few magicians dared to try to manipulate the dreaming – it could be very dangerous – but Harrow had made it her speciality. It had given her the ability to send her thoughts out of the prison long before Calvin had broken it open, releasing her into the mortal world once again; now, she would use it for its true purpose. The first step towards world dominance was building an army.
There were so many minds within range that she almost recoiled. Some were weak, easily broken, some were so brittle that too much pressure would destroy them. A handful seemed to be tough, either through brushing against the mana field themselves or sheer stubbornness. Harrow left the latter alone, knowing that she didn't need them. The potential magicians, on the other hand, she marked down for later attention. She’d had to seduce Calvin, a task made easier by having access to his every thought and desire, but now she could simply break the other magicians. Besides, Enchanter’s servant might have warned the modern world about the dangers. The potential magicians would think twice about any advice from an ancient sorceress.
Harrow smiled, drew on her mana, and reached out over New York, pushing suggestions into the dreaming. She hadn't been called the Queen of Nightmares for nothing. Weak minds, those addled by drugs or alcohol or simple frustration, would break very quickly, allowing themselves to be warped into something new and dangerous. The stronger minds would hold out for longer, but in the end they too would fall. Harrow felt some minds responding almost at once, accepting her as their mistress. The mundanes had always been weak, in search of a strong leader who would tell them what to do. It seemed to be no different in the modern world, even if so many things made little sense. The mundanes publically mocked and insulted their leaders. Why didn't their leaders just send soldiers to beat the mockers? It was what the leaders of her time would have done.
Most of New York was asleep, and vulnerable. Those that were awake would sense nothing until it was far too late.
***
Danny twisted and turned in his bed, feeling new and strange sensations crashing through him. He had always been frustrated, but now it was different. The place he worked had laid him off, simply because their profits were dropping sharply now that no one dared to go out after dark. He had a wife and two kids to feed and they’d laid him off anyway! What was he supposed to do now? It wasn't as if getting a job was easy these days.
His eyes snapped open, but the nightmare refused to fade away. He’d gone to the bar, trying to drown his sorrows, before staggering home and into bed. Once, he’d loved his wife, but now she was nothing more than a plague on his life. She’d screamed at him when he’d come home late, accusing him of everything under the sun from adultery to incompetence. What had he been thinking when he’d married her? And then the kids had started screaming too...eventually, he'd given them the back of his hand and staggered off to bed. He no longer cared about the future, if only because he didn't have one. The family had been slipping under the poverty line long before he’d lost his job.
Goddamned government didn't care. Goddamned government coddled everyone, but true-born Americans. Goddamned government bitched and moaned about how the poor had too much money given to them, even though what little they received was barely enough to help keep them fed. God knew that Danny needed the help; the American Dream was dead, killed by the bankers and corrupt politicians and others who cared not a jot for the common folk. It paid to be anything, but American in this world.
And there was a voice in his head, demanding servitude, promising much.
He pulled himself out of bed and stumbled towards the door. There was no sign of his wife, which meant that she'd either slept on the sofa or she’d gone crawling off to her sister’s for the night. Just because her sister’s husband happened to be a marginally more successful wage slave in another uncaring corporation, his wife thought that she could use it to batter Danny. He wanted a job, he wanted promotion, but both of them were in very short supply. And his wife, instead of being a caring helpmate, complained and complained and complained...
The rage boiled up in him as he opened the door and stepped into the hallway. He could hear one of the girls whining in her bedroom, as if she too was having a nightmare. Danny wondered, suddenly, if he was still dreaming, before feeling the wall as he stumbled into the living room. This was no dream, even if the world did have an eerie dreamlike air. It crossed his mind that something was very wrong, before the rage and resentment and
frustration pushed it all away. What was the point of obeying society’s laws when they were just used to screw people without political power?
His wife rose up from the sofa as he passed. Voice like a fucking cat, complaining and complaining and complaining...she never shut up. What did he do to deserve her? It wasn't as if there were no better women out there, even for him. He was sure that Daphne had been giving him the eye over the last few weeks and God knew that she was pretty, far prettier than his wife. And his wife just wouldn't shut up.
He hit her. Something broke in him as he saw her stumble backwards, a nasty red mark appearing on her cheek. He lashed out at her again and again, sending her falling bloody to the floor and slamming her head against the sofa. Blood pooled around her as he lifted his foot and pushed hard down on her throat. There was a brief moment of resistance as he pushed down, before his wife let out one final gasp and died.
Danny stared. Part of him was horrified by what he’d done; part of him was delighted. He’d finally taken control of his life and struck down one of his tormentors. The horror was washed away by the sheer exultation, an unholy glee in murder. Somehow, without knowing quite why, he found himself moving towards the door and out onto the streets, where others were gathering and preparing themselves to take back their lives. They could all hear the same voice echoing through their minds, growing louder as they surrendered themselves to its control. And it felt good. It was easy to surrender completely.
And Danny did.
***
“Something is in the air.”
Officer Leila Farnham gave Sergeant Terry O’Kelly a sharp look. The NYPD had been running extra patrols through New York in the wake of the disaster in Washington – and their own encounter with magical terrorism a few days earlier – but the force was very thinly spread, all the more so because of desertion and policemen being taken off to train in anti-magic and anti-monster tactics. Apparently, the SWAT team were learning to shoot bullets that were silver, blessed by every major religion and then dipped in holy water.
Leila hadn't been a policewoman for very long; indeed, she'd only qualified three months ago. A rookie shouldn't have been doing patrols, even with a more experienced officer, but the NYPD was desperately shorthanded. The Governor of New York had been under considerable pressure to call out the National Guard, yet the Mayor had resisted the suggestion, pointing out that calling up the Guard would add to the economic woes striking New York City. These days, night patrols were either boring or terrifying. They’d been given stakes and silver bullets, but there was always the possibility of running into something that hadn't been discovered yet. One police officer in San Francisco had run into...something that had turned him into stone. Their best guess was that gorgons, too, had been derived from humanity before the mana faded away.
You’d think that someone with snakes for hair would be easy to spot, she thought, as they walked down deserted streets. New York was no longer a lively city after dark. Some of the policemen had been grateful – breaking up late-night fights in bars was never fun – but Leila found it chilling. A part of their world was no longer fully under human control. Of course, there had only been a handful of vampire attacks, yet Leila had been pushed into studying the various shark panics while she’d been training to join the NYPD. There had been a handful of shark attacks which the media had blown out of all proportion. The Mayor could point to the fact that a vampire had been captured, but few citizens found it reassuring. New York was unlikely to return to normal for years, if it was possible. The incident in Washington suggested that nothing would ever be the same again.
Ahead of her, she heard a crash. The two police officers started to run forward, unsure if they were heading towards street people – or another person who had Changed into a monster. Rounding the corner, Leila stopped dead as she saw hundreds of people filing out of their apartment blocks, flooding down onto the streets. For a moment, she wondered if someone had hit the fire alarm, until she saw their faces. Some of them looked like zombies right out of a typical low-budget horror movie, but others looked like they were trapped in a waking nightmare, or stoned out of their minds. Many of them carried weapons, from pistols to clubs made from damaged chairs. And they were staring at the cops in eerie silence.
O’Kelly pulled his radio from his belt and started reporting in, asking for backup, as the crowd started to advance towards them, slowly and menacingly. More and more doors were banging open, revealing hundreds more people who had joined the mob. The NYPD had been advised that the newborn magicians had developed ways to control minds – at least one rape had been confirmed and several more were suspected – but this was different. It looked as through something had bound thousands of men and women into a mob. Leila had never seen a riot, but she’d heard from police officers who had faced rioting crowds and they'd told her that the crowd often seemed to blur into a single vast entity. Ordinary people who would never harm a fly found themselves picking up rocks and hurling them at police officers, or smashing windows and looting defenceless shops. They'd been caught up in the mob mentality.
“They’re saying that this is happening all over the city,” O’Kelly said, in shocked disbelief. “Even out in the suburbs...”
Leila threw him a sharp glance as the mob came closer, suddenly very aware of how alone and isolated they were. Some of the mob’s members had blood on their hands or splattered all over their shirts, suggesting...what? Whatever had influenced them had driven them to murder? Two police officers, no matter how well-trained, couldn't hope to stand off the entire mob themselves. If they drew their guns and opened fire, it was unlikely that the shooting would shock the rest of the mob out of their trance. They’d just keep coming until they overran the police officers and tore them apart.
“Time to make a tactical withdrawal,” O’Kelly added. He caught her arm and pulled her down the street, trying to leave without – quite – running for their lives. Behind them, the mob just kept advancing, slowly and patiently. It wasn't shouting or screaming, not like the mobs she’d seen on the television; indeed, the mob was proceeding with a deliberate silence that was all the more chilling. “Dispatch says that the barracks are affected too.”
“They can't be,” Leila said, automatically. The unmarried NYPD officers – and quite a few of the married officers, who’d sent their families out of the city – had been bedding down in police stations, barracks and even a pair of commandeered gyms. They should have been ready to get up, take their equipment and go out on the streets as reinforcements when the shit hit the fan. “What are they doing?”
“We don't know,” O’Kelly said. He had years of experience and he sounded scared. This was something completely outside his experience. “Dispatch doesn't know either...”
They rounded a corner and came face-to-face with another mob. This one advanced towards them, trapping the two police officers between two fires. O’Kelly drew his pistol, looking for targets, but there were no obvious leaders. Instead, he motioned for her to run to the nearest fire escape, hoping it would take them out of danger. Leila started to run, just before the mob suddenly lunged forward and closed the trap. Strong hands grabbed her and shoved her to the ground.
Desperately, she curled up into a ball, knowing that she was likely to be crushed to death, or at the very least seriously injured. Police officers – and civilians – had been hurt or even killed when they’d been caught up in mobs and shoved to the ground. Instead, the mob just surged around her, thousands of pairs of feet slamming down alarmingly close to her head. And there was a voice, right at the edge of her awareness, boosted by the sheer presence of the mob. The voice offered peace through surrender and servitude to her betters...
No, Leila thought, trying to crawl out of the maddened crowd. It was a mistake. The mob suddenly turned in on her, punching and kicking, slamming her back down to the ground. Her pistol was lost somewhere in the chaos; she reached for where she thought it was, only to have a foot come down on her hand. And
then the pain grew worse and worse until she blacked out completely.
***
Harrow smirked as she monitored the chaos running through the modern city. It was still a mystery to her how the city worked – the city government seemed designed to confuse outside observers – but certain truths were universal. Her mental influence had swallowed up countless minds, creating a mass that in turn swallowed up more and more minds. Those who were too strong to fall easily were eventually isolated and killed by the mob, which helped to break resistance.
She loosened her mind from the overall mob and sought out those she’d identified as potential leaders. Many of them were stubborn enough to make it hard to break them through nightmares, but the mob could bring them to her and she could bind them with proper spells, putting their knowledge and experience to work on her behalf. Once they were her slaves, they would take control of the mob as it expanded out beyond her mental range and seal off the city. The national government might have had the power to destroy entire cities – or so Calvin had insisted – but they’d have to decide if it was worth slaying millions of their own people just to destroy Harrow herself. And if they did, she could simply teleport away and leave them with nothing more than a ruined city.
Locating the Mayor in the dreaming had been surprisingly easy. He didn't seem to be very strong, for someone who ruled a city larger than anything Harrow had ever imagined before she’d been imprisoned. In fact, he seemed more corrupt than she had expected, although most of the corruption didn't seem to make sense. There were concepts in his mind that puzzled Harrow, even as she ordered him brought to her. Unlike the useful slaves, there was no point in putting him to work in the city, but he could still serve a purpose. Someone would have to take Harrow’s message to the rest of the country.
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