Revolution: Book Three of the Secret World Chronicle - eARC

by Mercedes Lackey

  Pride followed him to the flat panel display and watched as the young man pulled up several images he remembered seeing in one of his mother’s albums. “That’s not necessary. You wouldn’t happen to have a scan of the original ECHO charter, would you?”

  The assistant director shook his head sadly and motioned to the open area of crumbling concrete visible through the picture window. “Sadly, our original was destroyed in the first wave. We didn’t consider scanning the documents until afterward, but we do train volunteers to assist with the backlog. At our current pace, I expect that we’ll be caught up by the end of the year.”

  “Of course.” Pride did his best to hide his disappointment by taking a renewed interest in the images on the touchscreen. “How does this work? Do you have them sorted alphabetically, by year, or—”

  “You can search for any ECHO metahuman by name, civilian name, ability, year of entry, year of retirement, or by year of death.” He tapped the screen twice; the chiseled image of Yankee Doodle appeared on the screen in telltale red, white, and blue. The press had likened him to the late Spencer Tracy, with an easy smile that could carry sympathy as well as triumph. Next to Tesla, Yankee Doodle had provided the image of the ECHO Everyman, a public-relations dream that carried the organization from its early years through the turbulence of the post-war world. At every turn, he exuded charm and confidence. When he had finally retired from ECHO, he and Dixie Belle had moved to a sleepy suburb of Atlanta to live out their days in peaceful philanthropy.

  There were images of the funeral, ten years ago. Pride stood next to his mother, stoic as nearly all of Atlanta came to pay their respects to the man who bore the moniker of the North but grew to love the South as much as they embraced him. He had been larger than life, the figurehead of ECHO as well as the entire metahuman movement during World War II.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” The words brought Pride back to the present with a snap. “Would you like to see another one?” Without waiting for a reply, the young man flipped to a picture of a willowy blonde wearing a modified one-piece outfit reminiscent of a sailor’s pin-up girl. She stood in the classic pose of Rosie the Riveter, the glow around one hand as bright as the neat white smile she wore. Underneath the picture, the words “Dixie Belle” appeared in jaunty red script. “This is another one of my favorites.”

  Pride glowered at the image. “It’s historically incorrect,” he growled. “That is not Dixie Belle.”

  The man chuckled delightedly. “True, but it’s a great picture. Amazing how people could accept mutations and fantastical abilities, but at the end of the day, all of ECHO’s darling’s had to be…” He stopped himself and coughed. “Sorry.”

  “Where’s the real picture?” Pride folded his arms across his chest. “The historically accurate one.”

  It took a few fumbles through the database, but a grainy image appeared on the screen. The real Dixie Belle was escorted from a small plane, flanked by two pilots attributed as members of the Tuskegee Airmen. Off to one side, Yankee Doodle stood tall, the military salute crisp and directed toward Dixie Belle. Pride allowed himself a small smile. “You got any more like that?”

  The assistant director lingered over the picture, still flustered. “Not as many as we should. Prior to the establishment of the Eastham Foundation, Ms. Davis had the largest private collection of metahuman memorabilia. She donated some things following the death of Yankee Doodle, but…”

  Pride paused, glancing over his shoulder at the pile of concrete that had held the ECHO charter. “Was that charter hers?”

  “Oh, no. That belonged to Gordon Weddell. Did you know he donated his entire ECHO pension to the foundation of the Weddell Endowment for Metahuman Education in…” The young man continued his short history lesson, but Pride’s mind was already racing. If the place only had one charter, then it was entirely likely that a copy of the original ECHO charter wasn’t more than an afternoon away.

  Pride grinned and patted the young man on the shoulder a little more enthusiastically than he’d planned. “That’s excellent news. What’s your name, young man?”

  He recovered from the wallop to his back with an uncertain smile. “Michaels, sir.”

  “Well, it’s been a pleasure, Mr. Michaels. Thank you again for the tour, and thank you for your service to ECHO.”

  * * *

  Ramona accompanied Pride and Jamaican Blaze on their trip to the outskirts of Atlanta to pay a visit to Mrs. Louisa Mae Davis, better known to the rest of ECHO as Dixie Belle. While the other two acted as if it was any other trip to visit family, Ramona was acutely aware that this was a singularly rare opportunity to meet a piece of ECHO’s history. This wasn’t talking to a consciousness via some advanced desktop device, she realized as they pulled into the parking lot. This was real.

  Jamaican Blaze wore a simple white sundress and kept a small lighter in her hand. Pride walked next to her, neat and pressed in a simple dress shirt and khaki pants. Ramona had kept to her standard ECHO uniform and kept a few steps behind them. The conversation was one-sided, mostly due to Blaze being mute and her particular brand of telepathy. Every so often, Pride would pause and the flame would flicker in Blaze’s hand, presumably to continue the conversation.

  “All I’m saying is that you don’t need to be concerned about working with any members of the CCCP. Especially the older ones.” Pride stopped while the lighter opened and shut, a smirk on Blaze’s face. “Well, okay,” he conceded. “Perhaps everyone but Pavel.”

  The three stopped at the front desk and gave their names, but the nurse simply smiled and waved Blaze through along with the other two. She led them through a common area and outside through a tree-covered walkway, then stopped in front of one of the ground floor condominiums. She knocked once, waited a few seconds, then knocked again. A cheerful “One moment!” came from inside, followed by footsteps and the clicking of a few locks. Ramona couldn’t help but hold her breath as the door opened and she came face to face with the living legacy of ECHO.

  “Well, well. Look who’s here to pay a visit.” Bright eyes crinkled at the corners as she opened her arms and waved Blaze toward her. “You come and give your Gram a hug.”

  The woman who had worn the moniker of Dixie Belle for over seventy years still stood tall as she gathered her granddaughter close and pressed her cheek against Blaze’s forehead. “I am so proud of you, Willa Jean. I saw that footage…what did I tell you? Don’t question what’s been given to you, you just work what you have and it’ll all work out in the end.” She kissed the top of her head before letting her go and turning to Yankee Pride.

  “And you. It’s not a Sunday, Benjamin. It’s not my birthday, and it’s not a holiday.” The words were warm and without judgment, but she spoke them with a hint of sadness. “But I’ve seen the news, and I’ve heard the gossip. You’re here on business.”

  To Ramona’s surprise, Yankee Pride ducked his head and mumbled a “yes, ma’am,” every inch of him waiting for some type of backlash. “It’s not a bad sort of business, Mom. I mean, it’s not urgent.”

  Dixie Belle didn’t appear convinced of this. She looked past her son to focus on Ramona, who responded with a nervous smile and a proffered hand. “Detective Ferrari, ma’am. It’s an honor.”

  The older woman waved it off like a compliment on a well-worn pair of shoes. “If it’s not business, then I don’t want to hear any bit of ‘detective’ around here, Miss Ramona Ferrari.” She followed with a wink. “I know who you are, young lady. Now, let’s get out of this doorway before someone gets suspicious.”

  In a few minutes’ time, they sat around a small table in the apartment’s modest kitchen. Pride bustled about, making coffee and boiling water for tea. His mother patted Blaze’s hand as she talked. “You really shouldn’t be so surprised, Ramona. Just because we leave ECHO doesn’t mean that we stop paying attention to what goes on. In fact,” she leaned forward, the whisper loud enough for Pride to hear, “without all of that promotional nonsense, we
have the time to really watch what’s going on.”

  Ramona nodded in thanks as Pride slid a blue ceramic mug in front of her. “And? What do you think about what’s going on so far?”

  Dixie Belle snorted, taking her own cup of tea in one hand. “In the kindest terms, dear? Bullshit.”

  Ramona choked on her coffee. Vickie, ever present as Overwatch, chuckled in her ear. Pride let out a soft groan. “Momma, please.”

  “I said that it was the kindest term,” she reminded him, then looked to Blaze. “I did say that, baby girl, didn’t I?” Blaze nodded in agreement, grinning silently at Pride. “Well, then. To be more specific, that slimy egomaniac with a receding hairline has his designs on more than just ECHO. Mark my words, I’m certain of it. I know that Alex Tesla didn’t die the way that the papers said that he did, and I know that it’s not just coincidence that those rats over at Blacksnake are now trying to be all friendly.”

  “You know about Blacksnake?” Ramona frowned over at Pride. While she hadn’t considered it before, the number of retired metahumans around Atlanta made the assisted living complexes and retirement communities a prime target. She made a mental note to speak with Vickie about comprehensive background checks for the support staff. “What do you think of them?”

  To Ramona’s surprise, Dixie Belle didn’t respond with the same immediate harshness as she did to ECHO and Verdigris. “Now that there, that’s a little more complicated. I know plenty of folk who came out of retirement to go and work with them, because they didn’t like the way that ECHO limited them. They wanted the money or the risk, or both. It’s not a choice I’d make, but that’s it.”

  “They didn’t come after you, did they?” Pride slid into the chair next to Ramona, his brow furrowed. “They haven’t been back here to bother you, after—”

  Dixie Belle shook her head and laughed, squeezing Blaze’s hand. “No, no. They tried to talk to Willa Jean, but she’s too smart for that nonsense. Burned the eyebrows off of a fool smoking menthols on my front step. That’s why she’s my favorite grandbaby.”

  “Your only grandbaby,” Pride corrected, smiling over the edge of his coffee cup.

  His mother conceded. “Well, you and your sister had different priorities. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that mattered.”

  Ramona smiled at the conversation, sipping her coffee. Three generations of heroes, and the talk was as warm and simple as any other family. Dixie Belle caught her grin and the corner of her own mouth twisted up. “Something funny, Miss Ramona? Good to see you happy…you keeping up with that handsome beau of yours?”

  “Wow, she’s good,” Vickie murmured.

  Again, she choked on a mouthful of coffee. Ramona shot an accusing look to Pride, who put a hand up in the air. “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know she knew half the people in the organization.”

  Dixie Belle waggled a finger in their direction. “I didn’t. I did my research. Just because I look like a relic doesn’t mean I don’t know about all of those new-fangled technologies. Body might be old, but the mind’s still going strong.”

  Pride nodded again slowly. “So, then. What would you do in our situation, Momma? I mean, we have a plan, but…”

  “But you’re concerned,” she finished. “You’re just like your father, rest his soul. So, I’ll tell you what I told him. You trust what’s in here.” Dixie Belle pointed at her chest, fingers resting against the soft blue fabric of her blouse. “Don’t ignore what’s in your head, but you trust how you feel. You surround yourself with the right people, you stick to your decisions, and you own those decisions, good and bad.”

  “And how’d that turn out?” Ramona already knew the answer, but Dixie Belle smiled at the question.

  “Handsome, if not a little thick in the head.” She sipped her tea and winked at Pride, who ducked his head over his mug. “He still hasn’t said what he needs, you see? Comes over, makes me tea, but he can’t be direct. Too much of a gentleman, but it’s so damn frustrating.”

  “Momma.” He passed a hand over his eyes. “Please.”

  “I’ll do worse, Benjamin.”

  “I know.” He took a breath. “We need a copy of the original ECHO charter. The one at the Eastham Foundation was destroyed, but we think—”

  “They were careless. Nice folk, but careless. No planning for the future.” She tsked and stood, leaving her tea on the table. “And what makes you think I still have a copy?”

  This time, Ramona piped up. “Well, I don’t know about them, but if I don’t trust my employer, I save every scrap of paper. That way, when the time comes, I’ve got the upper hand.”

  Dixie Belle’s smile widened. “That,” she declared, “is one smart woman. I like you, Miss Ramona. You and me, we should talk more often. You listen to her, Willa Jean. ECHO needs more smart heroes like that.”

  “But I’m not a…” Ramona stopped as Dixie Belle pulled a tattered Bible from a bookshelf. It was worn at the edges, the gold lettering on the front faded. The binding creaked as she opened the book, turned to the middle, and extracted a slender envelope. She offered it to Ramona with a wink.

  “Don’t scan it yet,” she warned. “Making a copy will just give you a blurry page. Find a magician. A good one, and one you can trust. They’ll know what to do with it.”

  Pride frowned as Ramona tucked the envelope inside her jacket. “And after that?”

  She didn’t answer immediately, but sat down at the table and sipped her tea. “After that, you’ll have to work to bring everyone together somehow. Keep in mind that ‘together’ has different meanings for you and whatever mage-worker you can find. I don’t know much about what could happen after that. Magic was never my strength.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think that magic will be a problem,” Vickie remarked dryly in Ramona’s ear. “Call it a hunch.”

  Ramona placed a protective hand on the outside of the jacket. “Will they stay safe, ma’am? You’ve heard what Dominic Verdigris has done to his better business partners.” She had images of aging metahumans caught off guard by Blacksnake operatives as they traveled to doctors’ appointments and grandkids’ parties. The possibility for what she thought of as civilian casualties made her nauseous.

  Dixie Belle smiled. She reached across the table and took Ramona’s free hand in hers. “Ramona, darling, you’re going to have to trust an old woman when it comes to these sorts of things. The people you’re going to find, they’ve faced worse things than that oily little weasel on the best of their days. Dominic Verdigris doesn’t scare me, and he doesn’t scare a lot of the others.” She squeezed Ramona’s hand and waited. When Ramona finally nodded, her smile broadened. “Good. You’ll have to start this rolling. Leave the smiling and shaking to Benjamin.”

  Yankee Pride let out a long breath. “To make this happen, we’ll have to work with the CCCP. Is that going to make any of the older generation nervous?”

  At the mention of the CCCP, Dixie Belle got a devilish twinkle in her eye. “That depends upon what you would call ‘nervous.’ Is that handsome wolf still in charge of things?”

  “Momma!”

  Leap Into The Wind

  Mercedes Lackey and Dennis Lee

  There was something odd going on with the later generations of metas, and this one in particular. We had combined powers. We had powers that improved with time and practice and honing them. And we had powers no one could categorize. None of this had ever happened with the first generation, and nothing like this had happened with the speed and chaos of this one.

  Bella was about to find out just how strange things were getting.

  The knock at her door was expected, but Bella double-checked the little video monitor Vickie had installed for her to be sure of who it was out there. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to get the camera installed after the first time she’d looked out of the regular peephole into the muzzle of one of Vickie’s Glocks—and that had been before Verdigris had murdered Tesla. Having an extremely paranoid neigh
bor/patient was not such a bad thing.

  It was, as anticipated, Bulwark. But she used the intercom anyway. “Sushi’s here.”

  “You promised me spaghetti,” the big man rumbled with amusement. That was the right answer. Relieved that it was him and not Doppelgaenger, she let him in and locked the door behind him.

  “Clean?” he asked in an undertone. She nodded.

  “And Vickie’s glass-thingy is running,” she added. Vickie had demonstrated how one of the most common bugs didn’t rely on having a physical bug present at all; it was tech that picked up voices from the vibration of the glass in your windows, from as far away as a mile. Vickie solved that with tiny speakers attached to each pane, playing whatever you had on your stereo directly into the glass. That pretty effectively scrambled what people were saying inside a room without raising suspicion. If anyone was listening tonight, they’d be treated to the full Ring cycle. “Oh, Vix wants to see you after this. She wants you wired with the improved Overwatch. That way we won’t have to play question and answer anymore.” She wrinkled her nose. “Some magic hoodoo about how because she tuned it with a sample of you that she got before DG infilled, if it takes, she knows it’s you for sure. She’ll tell you all about it.”

  Gairdner lowered himself down to the couch with a sigh. He was actually skirting the edge of visible emotion…which was close to being out of character for him. Then again, he’d just come back from the brink of death, so perhaps a few lapses in his iron control could be forgiven. “No scolding, please, Bella,” he said. “Trust me, Victrix has already delivered everything you could want, and more. In…I think Djinni counted three Eastern European languages. Maybe four.”

  Bella raised an eyebrow. “You must have really popped her cork. She only swears in the Slavics when she’s so mad only cussing like a dockside whore will relieve the pressure. Lie down, please.”

  Gairdner did so. The oversized microsuede couch was just barely long enough for him. She knelt down beside him and held her hands just above his torso, brows creased with concentration as she checked on how his insides were healing.