Revolution: Book Three of the Secret World Chronicle - eARC

by Mercedes Lackey

  Finally she grabbed a tissue from the wreckage of the coffee table and wiped her eyes, and looked into his face, into those intelligent, kind eyes, eyes she desperately wanted to see warming with something other than friendship. And that was when it hit her. Competing with a dead woman or not, stupid or not, he’d almost ended up dead, and she’d never—

  She thought about every stupid rom-dram she’d ever seen, every television show that had this sort of situation, and how she had always cursed the stupid writers for doing the same damn cliché over and over. One or both of the leads were in love, never said anything, and then they ended up wasting time until the last reel, time that they could have been spending together. Or at least, wasted time in not knowing, dithering around, never just saying something and getting rejected—or not. They were always saying “they were afraid of losing what they had,” which was just moronic. She could handle rejection, and Gairdner wasn’t the kind of guy to panic and run away if she bared her soul to him, given everything else that absolutely required his partnership with her.

  “Gairdner…I don’t know what you’re going to think when I say this, but don’t interrupt me till I get done blurting all this out, okay?” she said, leaping into the wind again. “I’m crazy nuts about you. I don’t know for sure if it’s love, I’ve never been in love—it’s the telempathy thing, when you know exactly what a guy is thinking once he touches you, it kind of kills romance. Now, I can’t read you, and maybe that’s all this is, but I don’t think so. All I do know is I’d give an arm and a leg to be with you, and that I can’t just bottle this up anymore, and I sure as hell don’t want to find myself staring into that Khanjar bitch’s gun tomorrow and find the last thing I’m thinking is regret that I never said anything. And I sure as hell don’t want to find out something happened to you and end up with the same regret for the rest of my life, though the way things are going that might not be all that long.” She let it all out in a rush, and almost ran out of breath at the end of it. “There. I’m done now. Now you get to be Captain Perfect Control and pat me on the head and tell me that a leader can’t afford to feel that way and we pretend I never said this and move on.”

  Except, of course, I did, so now there’s a whole new Elephant In The Room. Still, there was some relief in finally getting the Elephant out of her heart and into the open.

  “Bella, I…” he paused, as if unsure of what to say.

  Oh god, she thought. I knew it. She steeled herself for the inevitable “Let’s just be friends and colleagues” speech.

  Instead, she let out a shrill cry as the couch collapsed under Bull’s augmented weight. Well, that would be where the rest of the metal had come from…the reinforcements on the wooden couch frame. They crashed to the floor, thrown together, and Bella found herself staring into Bull’s blue eyes in shock.

  “Overwatch to Bull and Bella. You two all right? Do I need to get paramedics or the fire department, or were you just breaking furniture for the fun of it?”

  Bella was mortified, and looked at Bull helplessly. Bull’s face cracked, his lips twitched, and he broke into helpless gales of deep, rumbling laughter. She felt her expression melt, from horrified embarrassment to mirth, and she joined Bull, hooting wildly until her sides ached. She became very aware of his arms, which had slipped around her.

  “We’re fine, Vickie!” she managed, finally. “Just fine!”

  “If you say so,” Vickie answered. “And I’ll let the office pool know I won. You DO break things when you’re doing it. What were you doing, swinging from the chandelier?” There was a pause. “You guys do realize everyone in ECHO Med is sure you’re boffing like bunnies, right?”

  You Have To Believe We Are Magic

  Mercedes Lackey and Veronica Giguere

  It took some serious research on the charter, pretty much all of which I did under such tight security a nanobot couldn’t have gotten into my place, but I finally got all the ducks in a row.

  There was just one, teensy, tiny little problem…

  But hey, for that, I had Ramona.

  The streets of downtown Atlanta buzzed with the usual sights and sounds of a Sunday afternoon. People still dressed in their finer clothes to go to worship services, while others lounged at tables outside coffee shops with newspapers and casual conversation. With less than a year having passed since the day of the invasion, many of the smaller establishments had managed to return to some semblance of normal. Orange construction netting provided a reminder of the damage to some of the larger buildings, and the boarded-up windows of other restaurants and businesses offered proof that not everyone would make it through these hard times.

  Ramona Ferrari folded back a page of the Atlanta Journal Constitution and took another sip of coffee. The editorial section burned with the wrath of angry readers who demanded that the city do more about the Kriegers and that ECHO step in and solve the problem, and that the inability of either to solve the problem meant that there were issues with the leadership in both. One particularly amusing article blamed the recurring wrath on the apparent heathenism of metahumans, while a rebuttal from a prominent Atlanta minister attributed the remaining ECHO personnel as proof that greater powers had not forsaken the God-fearing people of Georgia in these dark times. Ramona shook her head and scanned the page, decided that nothing important remained in the newspaper but sports scores and coupons, and set it neatly on the table. As she did, the familiar ECHO insignia caught her eye. She scowled, picked up the page, and scanned the small ad.

  “To remember those who sacrificed their lives in duty to the citizens of Atlanta, ECHO plans to dedicate a memorial on the one-year anniversary of the invasion. Chief Executive Officer Dominic Verdigris will present the plaque and statue at the event, which will be open to the public.”

  Ramona reached for her phone and snapped a picture of the ad, tagging it for later viewing with the hope that Victrix had already seen it in one of her many data-mining passes through the Atlanta media. A sick feeling lurched in her stomach as she re-read the paragraph. A public event with Verdigris in charge of metahumans, cementing his image in the minds and hearts of everyone attending, everyone watching. He would own controlling shares of ECHO alongside the gratitude of the people of Atlanta, and there would be little that anyone could do about it.

  She shifted in her seat, fingertip brushing the side of the earpiece as she hummed. “Overwatch? I know you read more than I do, but what I’m seeing doesn’t look right.”

  “I’m not a mind-reader, I only live next door to one. What page of the paper are you looking at? The cam in the coffee shop only shows me you from the front.” There was a pause. “Scratch that, bring the paper and come by my apartment. I’m getting you rewired, you’re too important for the old rig.”

  “Re…okay.” Being a civilian with ECHO meant not asking questions about tech when confronted by those who breathed it, and Ramona knew could trust Vickie. “You want anything? This place is really good, it’s a shame they don’t do delivery.”

  “Pick me up one of those gigantor things that’s all espresso with a double shot of cream and sweet, and yeah, a couple something or others from the case. Use that as your excuse to come visit the poor phobic shut-in. I like their coffee, I just don’t like going out for it.”

  * * *

  As instructed, Ramona appeared at the apartment with not one but two coffee disasters and a box of cinnamon coffee cake. She shifted a bit as if to knock, but realized that Vickie likely heard her breathing, let alone knew she was there.

  To prove the point, she heard the sound of five locks being thrown, and Vickie opened the door for her. The young woman looked…surprisingly well. Better than Ramona had ever seen her look, in fact. No more dark circles under her eyes. She actually smiled a little as she waved Ramona inside. “Now, what did I ask you to bring me, exactly? I forget.”

  “This.” She thrust one of the coffees at Vickie. “Gigantor, which they call ‘venti’ over there, all espresso with a double shot
of cream and sweet. The ‘couple something or others’ from the case are cinnamon. Oh, ye poor phobic shut-in,” Ramona finished.

  Vickie sighed with relief, and unburdened her. “Once I get you wired I won’t have to make with the passwords, thank god, but now that we know Doppelgaenger was inside ECHO and we presume has had access to all sorts of people, I’m not letting anyone in without a check.” She shut and locked the door.

  “Makes sense to me.” She deposited the rest of her wares on the counter. “So, wired? I get to be the FerrariBot 9000?”

  Vickie put the cup down on the coffee table and picked up three tiny plastic boxes. “OK first things first, off with the old, and before we stuff ourselves, on with the new. I’ve got these running on Bella, me, Red, Saviour, Untermensch, Sovie, I’m about to grab Bull after I get you, and Pride after I get Bull. These—” she held up the boxes, which each contained a tiny bead-like capsule. “—are the new, improved techno-magic Overwatch. You could be on the other side of the galaxy, and I’ll pick you up, no one can use it but you, no one will know you have it but you, and no one can pick up the signals but me unless they happen to be as good a technomage as I am and break in here to twin my rig.” She grinned. “Impressed yet?”

  Ramona grinned back. “I haven’t stopped being impressed with what you can do since I met you. This is amazing. They work on every variation of metahuman? Even Red Djinni?”

  “Like a charm. Better on him, actually, I didn’t really need to worry about rejection with him. OK first we do what we replace the earpiece with. Just hold still.” Vickie picked up one of the “beads” on the end of her finger, touched it to the back of Ramona’s ear, and muttered something that sounded like “Apport.” As far as Ramona could tell, nothing happened, but Vickie seemed content.

  “Now the pickup-mic.” She picked up another “bead.” “Open wide.”

  So far as Ramona could tell, Vickie just touched the top of her soft palate.

  “And now my pride and joy, and this is going to be a little creepy. Don’t move till I say so, and don’t touch your eye.” This time the “bead” went in the corner of her eye, and Vickie actually grabbed both her wrists.

  Staying still was a challenge, and Ramona could sense something smaller than an eyelash but larger than a grain of sand shifting around and behind her field of vision. The gritty sensation went away, but the barest touch of pressure someplace behind her eye resembled the beginning of a migraine and she tensed. “How long does this last?”

  “Not long. Maybe another minute, just hang in there. It’ll flatten out once it’s seated.”

  True to her word, the pressure subsided and Ramona could feel herself relax. “Better, I think. Now what?”

  “Overwatch: command: activate Ferrari,” Vickie said. Her grin spread like a kid with a Christmas present. “Overwatch: command: activate Ferrari HUD live. Now, check that little goodie out. Just scan me for starters.”

  Obediently, Ramona looked over the wisp of a woman in front of her, toes to head and back again. Not a lick of skin showing below her jawline, but the all-black ensemble didn’t make her look sickly. As she scanned a second time, other information appeared to the side of Vickie. Time, location, general address as well as latitude and longitude. She allowed her gaze to linger for a second longer, and Ramona’s eyebrows went up as a red icon flashed over the small of the woman’s back. The bulky sweater hid what the HUD determined as a Glock, fully loaded, and even went so far as to correlate that information to Vickie’s full profile from ECHO. Ramona was less surprised when it recommended “no engagement.” “Only packing one? I guess I did get your coffee order right.”

  Vickie chortled. “Oh I have plenty of mags within reach. If you want to play Easter Egg Hunt, be my guest. Overwatch: command: transfer control: Ferrari: Ferrari. Now you’re in the driver’s seat. Anything you can hear, I can hear. Anything you can see, I can see. I can talk to you without anyone overhearing because there is a pickup and a speaker smack in your middle ear, and you can whisper because there is a second pickup in your soft palate. Here—” She handed Ramona a little printed folder. “That’s your basic commands, but if you don’t like how I set it up, and I admit it’s kind of geeky, then teach it yourself, the instructions are right there. Now, I can override at any time and take control and turn things on. You can turn it all off for as much as eight hours at a time for privacy, any more and it’ll alarm and force you to do it again. If you go over your designated time, it’ll alarm for me, too. So yes, you are now the Ferrari 9000, congratulations.” She paused then added “Oh. lower left hand corner of your HUD, little camera icon, tells you the feed is live, and there are two dots next to it, one is the mic, the other is the speaker. Same thing. Turn them off, the icon and dots go away. Now, have some cake and tell me what brought you here in the first place.”

  “Well…” Ramona tucked the folder into her purse, trading it for the newspaper. She unfolded the first page, then pressed it back along the crease so that Verdigris’ ad would be perfectly centered. “This. This isn’t something that was publicized in-house, and only a one-week lead makes me suspicious. Plus, he’s using ‘Chief Executive Officer’ in reference to himself, which isn’t quite accurate. Something’s rotten, Vickie.”

  Vickie frowned. “You think he’s copped to us? Or at least that we’re up to something?” Her frown deepened.

  “I don’t know.” Ramona flicked the edge of the page with her finger. “What this does, or could do, is make him the benevolent darling of the media, earning the adoration of the public by commemorating that day. No one will want to touch him after that kind of gesture.”

  “Overwatch: command: open Bella private. Bells, we have a possible sitch.” Vickie explained, then listened. “Roger, that’s a go. Overwatch: command: close Bella private.” She turned her gaze back to Ramona. “We’re on accelerated program, detective. Doubletime if we can manage it.”

  “How close are you to unlocking the charter?” She had made sure the document had arrived safely at Vickie’s apartment less than a day after her meeting with Yankee Pride and Dixie Belle, but the legendary metahuman hadn’t been joking about the need for a good mage.

  “Close. I know exactly what we need now. The obvious stuff was keyed as tarot code, which is why you kept seeing cards on the edges of the Charter parchment. Major Arcana represent actual people. The Emperor—that’s Pride. The High Priest—that’s a tricky one, that’s Nicola himself. The Tower—that’s the other tricky one, Marconi. Minor Arcana represent objects. King of Staves, Queen of Pentacles, King of Swords—physical bits of the three original signatories, that’d be Dixie Belle, Yank, and Alex’s father. And I worked out the unlocking ritual, which is a very pretty and neat piece of mathemagic, and I would love to know who did it for them.” Vickie pursed her lips. “So, can you get me all those things?”

  “We can get Pride, sure. Bits and pieces might be a little harder, but since Dixie is still alive, she can help.” Ramona let out a quick sigh, part thought and part frustration. “Mr. Tesla’s going to be the hard one, since I’m guessing that you can’t up and transport your ‘rig’ into the CCCP closet.”

  “Actually I have carte blanche from Nat ever since I wired her up. I have gone from ‘Daughter of Rasputin’ to ‘Hero of the People.’ I think she’s decided I’m close enough to science to get a free pass.”

  “But is it safe for you to take all of that out? I mean, the man is an electronic ghost…and how do we have both Marconi and Tesla there at the same time? Only one can use the box at a time.”

  “Tch.” Vickie waggled a finger at her. “Oh ye of little faith. I have a portable version of my workroom. The magician isn’t the workroom, the workroom is the magician. And I am a technomage, you didn’t see me unlock the MacGuffin in the first place, but trust me, tech is safe around me. Have I never shown you the Overwatch suite? But about Tesla…hmmm. The logical solution is to let Marconi use the box and make you Tesla’s proxy. I hope you don’t mind bein
g possessed.”

  Ramona searched for the right word that would give her some shred of magic street-cred. “You mean, to serve as a, uh, conduit?”

  “Pretty much,” Vickie said, cheerfully.

  “If it keeps the slimeball from taking over, I’ll spit pea soup on the ceiling. I think, if you’re not busy, we could probably get Pride on his way back from his weekly visit to his mom.” She tried not to think about Tesla’s voice coming out of her mouth.

  “Let’s get him. The sooner I wire him, the better, anyway.” Vickie sighed. “Right, this is going to take some prep. And it’s going to take some convincing. Tesla isn’t going to like riding a body, he might not believe I can do this, and he is probably going to be afraid he won’t be able to go back to his box when we’re done. So now, detective, you get to do what you do best. While I prep, you go talk to the Great and Powerful Oz.”

  “Me?” Ramona goggled at her. “Why me—”

  Vickie gave her a look that clearly said don’t play coy with me. “Because you are Ramona Ferrari, who has a better chance of talking Eskimos into buying bikinis than anyone I ever met in my life. Now go. Shoo. I’ll meet you at CCCP HQ.”

  She gathered up her things and slung her oversized purse over a shoulder. In the spring, the overwhelming heat had not settled over the city, so she managed the six blocks to the CCCP headquarters without melting. She banged on the door twice, readying for a third knock when the door swung open and a severe man in military fatigues appeared. He did not smile as she produced her ECHO badge and cleared her throat.

  “Detective Ferrari, sir. I’m here to speak to the Commissar about the item you have in, uh, storage.” He didn’t show any signs of understanding, so she held up her badge a little higher. “Echo? I’m a Detective, with ECHO—”