Agents, Agreements and Aggravations: In Her Paranormal Majesty’s Secret Service™ Book Three

by Anderle, Michael

  She leaned against the wall and accidentally flicked the light switch with her shoulder. Intense light flooded their vision from the ornate chandelier that had replaced the old candle-dependent version.

  She quickly switched the light off as the others came through the door and looked for a place to pop the couch down.

  “At least the electricity is working.” Tanya chuckled.

  Sandra clapped her hands as the Roomba bumped into the wall and corrected course.

  Washington DC, USA

  The holding cells were in the lower levels of the HQ. Jennie had come across them a few times before and was glad to see that this was one of the main areas that had been unaffected by so much change.

  The walls were different, however, imbued with the spectral defense barriers they had incorporated in the early days of Jennie’s arrival. This was both positive and negative, considering that captives could no longer escape, but Jennie also couldn’t worm her way in, either.

  Jennie was halfway down the hallway when three agents blocked her path.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, no further. Direct instructions from the SAiC,” a woman with a thick neck and a stern face declared. “Authorized personnel only.”

  Jennie gave an empathetic nod. “Of course. We only wish to see a friend of ours for a brief moment, then we’ll be out of your way.”

  She latched onto Baxter and turned spectral before walking straight through the agents.

  They pivoted, and Jennie heard the unmistakable sound of firearms being readied.

  She paused and spoke with cool confidence. “You’re not going to shoot me. I’m the greatest ally you guys have.”

  The tinny sound of someone talking into the agent’s earpiece reached Jennie’s ears. She had no doubt of who was on the other side of that line.

  “Give it up, Daggro,” Jennie called, voice raised. “This is happening. I don’t want to cause trouble. If anything, I want to assist your cause. Your agents aren’t made for spectral interrogation. I made a living out of it. You’ve seen me work, so let this one go, and I’ll be out of your hair before the first seeds of a conscience begin to grow within your stone-cold heart.”

  There was a moment’s silence. Daggro spoke in a hushed tone, undetectable by the others. The woman pressed a finger to her ear and nodded. “Follow me.”

  Jennie let out an internal sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure that Daggro would have let that one slide, but it seemed that even she knew when to draw the line and concede. It was a small win, but at least it was something.

  Jennie wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but the Dragon was nothing like she had envisioned.

  He was an obese spectral blob, veiled only in a small scrap of material that covered his private area. It was like what she imagined would happen if sumo wrestlers ever crossed with the fashionistas working on the catwalk. A long sash wrapped several times around him, and for that, she was thankful.

  The Dragon sat cross-legged and stared straight ahead when they were allowed into his holding cell.

  “He has bigger boobs than any woman I’ve ever seen,” Baxter muttered out the side of this mouth.

  Jennie had to work to keep herself from laughing.

  “The Dragon, I presume?” Jennie asked.

  The Dragon’s eyes flicked toward her. There was a serenity in that stare, a calm she could feel on the surface. “You’d be right. And who might you be?”

  Jennie introduced the others. When she called Feng Mian’s name, the Dragon smirked. “Good to see you again.”

  Feng Mian remained silent, though Jennie noticed his hands were poised with a slight glow, ready to kick into action if it indeed came to that.

  “You look well,” Jennie told the Dragon. “Nothing at all like I was told you looked in your final moments of mortality.”

  The Dragon puffed out his huge chest and smiled.

  A sucker for compliments? That could come in useful…

  “Spectrality becomes me, does it not?” The Dragon took a deep breath in and stretched his stomach even further than Jennie thought possible. “For years I clung onto life, afraid to cross into the spectral realm, although I knew the benefits that would come my way. Call me old-fashioned, but there’s something about death that remains ingrained in the human condition that makes us go to extreme lengths to avoid it.

  “Our primal instinct is to protect ourselves. To cling to life and take advantage of every last breath. Had I known just what a liberating experience death would be, I wouldn’t have waited so long. I would have hung myself from the rafters and operated my little project from the spectral side of life. Oh, well. You live and learn—or die and learn, in this case.”

  He laughed, though at first, it wasn’t apparent that that was what he was doing. Jennie waited until he was silent once more.

  “But I suppose that’s not the true reason you’re here, is it?” the Dragon continued. “I’m assuming you want answers from me, the same answers those puny agents outside tried to extract. I’m sorry to tell you that I’m a closed book. You may have me trapped, but I have my own secrets trapped within, too.”

  Jennie grinned. “There we have it. The first admission. There’s more to your puzzle. You’re hiding secrets.”

  The Dragon shrugged. “So what if I am? Maybe I’m not. Who knows? The point is, what are a bunch of mortals going to do about it?”

  Feng Mian uncharacteristically broke ahead of the group and stood before the Dragon. “You make a big mistake. Before you is no mere mortal. Rogue is leagues above what those damn mortals could ever hope to be. I’d watch your mouth in front of her, for some things are more fearsome in life than the Dragon.” He nodded at the long dragon tattoo that snaked up the man’s arm. “It’s apt that you name your legacy after a creature of myth. Soon enough, all that will be left of you are the stories we tell of your demise.”

  Jennie felt a strange sense of pride at Feng Mian’s words.

  The Dragon, however, was unmoved. “Very well. If this is to be your next interrogation attempt, come at me. I’m curious to see what this mythological beast can bring to the equation.”

  Feng Mian stepped aside, and Jennie took his place. “Are you sure you don’t want to do this the easy way? Honestly, once you get my engine revving, there’s no going back. Not even the SIA will be able to save you once I get going.”

  The Dragon narrowed his eyes and looked darkly at her. “Bring it on.”

  Jennie sighed. “Okay, then. Feng Mian, hit it.”

  Feng Mian clapped his hands, and a blast of spectral energy pulsed from between his palms. The lights blew as the circuits shorted, and even the electric keypad that operated the door to the cell stopped working.

  The live feed to the camera shorted, and the only source of light left came from Jennie.

  She sent out tendrils of spectral energy to connect with the Dragon and latched onto his power.

  The Dragon jittered nervously, unsure what this strange sorcery was and at that moment Jennie felt his panic and confusion running through her as she experienced his emotional state through their connection

  Jennie locked eyes with the Dragon. “Strange, isn’t it? I can’t explain it either, yet here we are. Are you ready to talk yet?”

  The Dragon glared.

  Jennie continued. “You know, back in 1923, I encountered someone as stubborn as you.” She curled her arms in front of her in a mime of a large person. “I was still relatively young, barely into my career at that point. I believed that the larger the specter, the less control I had on them.

  She tilted her head, her eyes boring into the Dragon’s. “Turned out that was all crap. This guy was huge. At least double your size, if you can believe it. He had been one of the henchmen for a notorious mobster somewhere in Eastern Europe—I can hardly remember where anymore—and we needed answers. I latched onto that bad boy and wrung him out like a sponge, draining his power and manipulating his gifts until he was nothing more than a ball of spectral bl
ubber crying on the floor.”

  People moved behind the door. There were raised voices and people banging their fists against its frame. The lock didn’t budge.

  The Dragon grimaced. “What answers do you seek? You have me bound and captured, what more can I do?”

  Jennie smirked. “Good boy, now we’re playing ball. I want you to tell me who your successor is. You were sick; there’s no way you left the game without introducing somebody else to the field. Tell us who the new Dragon is.”

  The Dragon looked impressed. “I have to admit, you’re not as stupid as the other ones. But, alas, you’ll have to kill me first.”

  He cried out in pain as Jennie drained the energy from his body. His glow faded to nothing more than a dull pulsing light as he struggled for release. Jennie was glad to detect no real curveballs in regards to his powers—at least, none yet. Time would tell what powers the Dragon would inherit.

  “A name,” Jennie instructed.

  The banging on the door grew louder. Voices cried over the top of one another. Through it all, Jennie heard Daggro calling a muffled command.

  The Dragon grinned. “Your time is short.”

  “So’s my patience,” Jennie shot back. “A name.”

  The Dragon was stubborn, she had to give him that. She drained him further, not believing he was going to yield, but with a final pulse of power from Jennie, he squealed.

  “Ren.” He panted as though he’d ran a mile. “Ren-Min-Bi.”

  Jennie retained her connection to his emotions for a moment, wanting to make sure there was no falsehood in his information. Satisfied, she cut off her connection and plunged them all back into darkness.

  Just in time, too. The lights flickered back into action, and the door swung open so suddenly that half a dozen agents fell into the room. Behind them stood Daggro, her face a picture of anger.

  Jennie and Daggro stared at each other silently for a few seconds, before Jennie spoke. “We have a name.”

  If Daggro was pleased, she didn’t show it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Washington DC, USA

  Former Special Agent Alan Rhone sat on the couch of his one-bed apartment and watched his sixth consecutive episode of Game of Thrones.

  He had fallen in love with the show. So much so, that in the few days since he had been fired from his position in the SIA, he had worked his way through four seasons of the damned thing, and was already anticipating the excitement of the show’s climax.

  He scooped a spoonful of sodden Fruit Loops into his mouth and scratched his face. A healthy rash of beard had taken over where the smooth skin had been, and his usually perfect hair had remained untouched and now stood at strange angles.

  Still, it’s nice to have a break, isn’t it?

  He had been serving the government for over a decade without a rest. In that time, he had never requested a day off, had never taken any annual leave, and had bound himself to the service of the United States of America. Never would he have been able to foresee that the woman he had risen through the ranks with at the SIA would have the power to cut him loose.

  When the episode finished and the credits rolled, Rhone rose from the couch and placed the bowl next to the stack of unwashed dishes by the sink. He stretched and looked out of the window at the rose gold of the sunset falling beyond the Washington hills, feeling a strange sense of calm.

  When was the last time he had been this calm? He couldn’t remember. Years ago, perhaps.

  He raised an arm, and a strange smell caught his attention. He sniffed his pits and discovered that it was him. With heavy feet, he trudged to the bathroom and took a shower, feeling rejuvenated by the steaming water raining down on him.

  He didn’t bother with soap or gels or any other cosmetics. Instead, he switched off the water, wrapped a towel around himself, and made his way back through the living room with the intention of going to the bedroom, falling into bed and closing his eyes.

  “What in Sam Hill happened to you?” Jennie smiled at him from the couch. She held his discarded shirt in her hand and wrinkled her nose. “Been busy, have we?”

  * * *

  Rhone finished getting himself dressed in the cleanest clothes he could find and returned to the living room, still tugging down the hem of his t-shirt. “It’s rude to enter without knocking.”

  Jennie shrugged. “You make it so easy. This apartment doesn’t have any alarms, no security whatsoever. It’s like you’re inviting people to rob you. Did you even work for the government?” She glanced around the apartment. “Not that there’s much to steal. This place is a shithole, Rhone.”

  Rhone nodded in agreement. “Sure is. Just a quick stop until I get back on my feet.”

  Jennie raised an eyebrow. “Don’t they pay you better than this in the SIA? Special agents must have some benefits.”

  “I do okay.” He planted himself on the arm of the couch and looked around. “It’s a government salary so we do it for love and labor over glory. Besides, I just wanted a roof over my head before I start looking for other apartments and other work. Coffee?”

  Jennie craned her head to see the mound of dishes and crockery piled by the sink. “Sure. But, first, let’s clean up this swamp and get to talking. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

  They made swift work of the dishes, standing side-by-side as they conquered the tower and left behind a smooth, clean surface. Jennie and Rhone laughed almost the entire time. For years Jennie had been in a privileged position of never needing to worry about doing things by hand, but something about returning to the basics and experiencing a glimpse of what she considered to be “normal life” was rejuvenating.

  As they chatted and laughed, Jennie glanced out of the window at the nearby houses with their manicured lawns and the rising apartment blocks nearby. For a brief moment, she wondered what life would be like if it were all simpler.

  Finally, Rhone threw the towel over his shoulder and they high-fived. Jennie switched on the kettle, and as the water began to boil, she told Rhone her proposition.

  “I want you to work with me.” There was a sincerity in her face, readable even behind the dark lenses of her glasses. “Fulltime.”

  A smile crept onto Rhone’s face. “I thought you’d ask me that eventually, although I figured it would be a little longer than four days. Are you really serious about establishing your own organization?”

  The kettle boiled. Jennie looked uncertain as she picked up a jar of instant coffee and looked for a spoon. Rhone helped her and took over as she continued. “I’ve been serious about this ever since I learned of the Queen’s betrayal. She promised me she’d leave the United States alone, and my plan has always been to build something here. The only thing I’m lacking is a team of agents who are willing to stand by my side and help me build it all.”

  Rhone handed Jennie a steaming mug, and he was shocked to see her sipping the scalding liquid. He blew on his and tested the temperature, instantly regretting it as his lip went numb.

  “You’re going to hit a lot of resistance,” Rhone mused. “The SIA wants to work with you, but if you start stealing their agents, they’re going to get hostile. With Daggro temporarily taking the helm and Rogers in the President’s pocket, it’s all in her hands. She already doesn’t like you. I wouldn’t do anything too brash that might upset her even more.”

  Jennie glanced at the floor, a playful grin on her face.

  Rhone sighed. “What did you do?”

  Jennie explained the situation with the Dragon and the interrogation in his cell.

  “Come on, Jennie. You’re just giving them more reasons to hate you.” Rhone led Jennie back to the couch and took a seat. He had to move another soiled shirt off the back of the couch to sit comfortably.

  “I speak only one language, and that language is progress.” Jennie placed her empty mug on the table. “I got the answers they were too stupid to get. Can you blame me for wanting to get to the bottom of a real issue in NYC?”


  Rhone shook his head. “I suppose not. But there are other methods. Other channels…”

  “Channels that are hidden under layers of bureaucracy,” Jennie retorted. “Spectraldom is different from mortality, Rhone. Things move fast. We can’t be afraid to take action when trouble arises. Specters wait for nothing. And, if we do make a wrong decision, we live and we learn. We move on. That’s the way of the King’s Court.”

  Rhone grinned. “Catchy name.”

  Jennie smiled. “Thanks.”

  Rhone managed to take his first proper mouthful of coffee. “How did you leave it with Daggro, anyway?”

  Jennie sat back and chewed her lip. “She was fuming, of course, but she couldn’t argue with me in front of her people. I got what they failed to retrieve. There’s now a name in the mix. With that, they can actually start looking at intelligence in the city and seeing if they can track down this Ren-Min-Bi. It’s a win for her, although she was certainly happy to see me leave.”

  “You’ve got her in a difficult position,” Rhone told her. “The agency needs you.”

  “To be honest, I think she’s likely going to change the locks so I can’t return.” Jennie placed a hand on Rhone’s knee. “Now we’re both exiled! How does that feel?”

  Rhone laughed. “She won’t change the locks. She doesn’t have the power to. You have an agreement in place with the President, and that’s something that she can’t override. She may be able to make you uncomfortable there, but I’m guessing that’s not an issue for you?”

  Jennie shook her head. “Not one bit. Speaking of, are you going to give me an answer, or not? The others are waiting for you in the car. I kind of want to get moving and find out how the house is shaping up.”

  Rhone raised an eyebrow. “What house? You left who in the car?”

  Jennie stood and held out a hand, her smile stretched from ear to ear. “Come on, Special Agent Rhone. This is a one-time offer. Are you in, or are you out?”