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

by Anderle, Michael

  They nodded curtly and followed Rathbourne as he turned from the cemetery. They loaded into the van, gathered around Rathbourne’s tomb, and set off to their next destination.

  Jiao checked her cell phone, knowing that if she didn’t hold up her end of the bargain, the Dreadnought would be pissed. To her relief, her men had replied, and would soon reunite with their Dragon.

  She smiled. A Dragon and a Dreadnought, ruling from on high. Mortal and specter. Oh, how the world would soon bow before them.

  * * *

  The house stood alone on the top of a small rise. It was a dilapidated thing, the windows bare of glass and the door standing crookedly on rusted hinges.

  At one point in time, it had been a family home. Susannah told them of her aunts and uncles, her mother and father, the brothers and sisters who had once run around the hallways and rooms and breathed life into the place.

  “It must have been beautiful,” Jennie commented, withholding the word she wanted to add, once.

  The city had turned the house into a monument to the past. The lawns were neatly kept, but the house and all inside it had been left untouched. Jennie and her team strode up to the house and nudged the door open. It was dark, the thick layers of dust absorbing what little light made it through the grimy windows.

  Tanya shook off the rain that had drizzled onto her. Far off in the distance, the sky rumbled.

  A thoughtful look crossed Susannah’s face as she breathed in her childhood home.

  “What are we looking for?” Baxter asked.

  Susannah ran a hand through her hair. “A sign that they have been here. Beneath this house is the original burial site of Richard Haybourne. Rathbourne Valerius. The Dreadnought.”

  Carolyn scoffed. “We should start calling him ‘The Artist Formerly Known as the Specter Now Known as The Dreadnought.’”

  Jennie and Baxter chuckled. Tanya rolled her eyes, her careworn expression lifted ever since she had reunited with Sandra, who currently clutched her leg.

  Jennie examined the floor, surely if anyone had been here, their footsteps would be the first tell-tale signs. There was no way someone could walk in here without leaving some kind of trail.

  Still, what if they were all specters?

  They divided and explored the house. Jennie took in the rusted pots and pans left by a sink overgrown with weeds and ivy. Most of the doors had fallen and were now bent and bowed, slumped against the jams like drunken sailors. The stairs creaked as they explored the upper floor, wandering around the empty bedrooms with linens that may once have been white but were now a mottled shade of brown and gray.

  Then they came to the basement.

  Susannah led the way, finding the entryway hidden in a cupboard under the stairs. At the back, cast entirely in darkness until lit by Tanya’s phone, was a concrete slab with a thick metal ring set into it. “There’s another sub-level below the basement.”

  Jennie tugged at the slab, but it didn't move at first. A second tug cracked the dirt seal around the edges. A third tug brought the slab away from the wall and revealed a doorway beyond.

  The stairs went lower than Jennie had anticipated. They had already descended ten to fifteen feet into the basement. The stairs into the sub-basement went down for almost triple that. The stairs curved into the earth beneath the house and finally opened into a large chamber with smooth stone walls.

  A chill lingered down here that prickled the skin of the mortals. Tanya shivered as she shone her light, casting shaky shadows as she swept it over bookshelves, cupboards, desks, hanging hooks, and other paraphernalia that told of only one possible reason: witches.

  Susannah’s eyes turned glassy as she floated into the center of the room, a nostalgic smile on her face. “I spent the formative years of my life down here, learning, studying, playing. Being a witch is nothing like they make it out in the movies or books. It’s a science, it’s art. Delicate balances must be assumed to create the perfect concoction.”

  She crossed over to a shelf where thick tomes were almost lost in dust and webs. The pages were yellowed. Jennie brought one down and placed it on the side, opening the book to a random page where handwritten scrawls in penmanship she could hardly understand decorated the page.

  “A potion to lengthen your lifespan,” Susannah stated. “The body is nothing more than a biological machine. Feed it the right ingredients, and you can keep that ticker going far beyond what anyone thinks is possible.”

  Carolyn studied the far wall where an array of neatly-labeled animal skeletons were displayed. “You make it sound like a general science. Something that anyone can learn. Like it’s not even magic.”

  “Magic is just a word people use to explain what they can’t comprehend,” Susannah replied. “Most of our work centered around medical practices that would be recognized today by science. It was only our work playing with the borders of the spectral realm that could be called real magic.” She scanned the room, her eyes wide with wonder. “We didn’t know what we were playing with, but there are forces greater than those known to man. Jennie is a prime example of the mysteries that still exist in this world. If one can draw on the unknown and harness the secrets of this world, then many who remain blind may call it magic, but we just call it life.”

  Susannah turned to Jennie. “Do you not agree? Are you not also a witch yourself?”

  Jennie considered this. She had never thought of herself in that light, but she supposed that mortals who didn’t understand what she was capable of or the powers she drew from might call what she did magic.

  “Magic is nothing more than a cop-out to explain that which people do not understand,” Jennie replied. “In the same way that ancient cultures used to explain patterns of nature by attributing them to gods, magic is used to explain the impossible.”

  Susannah nodded. “The impossible that is possible. So, I ask again, are you not one of my coven?”

  Jennie grinned. There was a playfulness on Susannah’s face she hadn’t seen before. “I suppose.”

  Carolyn looked between the pair. “I suppose that could explain some of my gifts.”

  Susannah cocked an eyebrow.

  Carolyn continued. “Oh. Yeah, I can draw on spectral frequencies and draw items to me from afar. A kind of telekinesis. Feng Mian can draw shields around himself, too. Bax…Well, I’m not sure what your skill is, Bax.”

  Bax held up his wrench. “Being able to interact with the mortal world isn’t too shabby as an ability. I can bludgeon with this. Also, I’m good with technology.”

  Carolyn looked unimpressed. “Yeah, that too…”

  Susannah nodded. “And yet, there is nothing to explain you, Jennie. If anyone here could be considered a witch, it’s you.”

  Jennie grinned. “Just show us where you buried The Artist Formerly Known as The Dreadnought.”

  The sub-basement had more rooms than Jennie had anticipated. A whole family could easily have lived down here without anyone knowing. Susannah led them through a doorway, then down another set of stairs.

  Jennie looked around when they arrived at the bottom. The room was smaller than the others, and a long rectangular mark on the floor signaled where the tomb had once lain.

  “I put him there,” Susannah explained. “The tomb we carved from the rock down here, and once he was dead and cursed, we carried him down into the darkness and sealed this level away from prying eyes. Unfortunately, it was only a day or two later we had to abandon our place here and find new pastures. Rumors of our deeds had already spread too far.”

  Jennie crouched and ran a hand along the dusty floor. Drag marks were scored into the floor by the weight of the tomb. “They must have had a hell of a job carrying the sarcophagus all the way back to the surface.”

  “I reckon so,” Baxter replied.

  Jennie placed a hand flat on the stone and felt for the residue of spectral energy. After a few moments of searching, nothing came to her. “It’s a dead end.”

  Voices filtered d
own to them from somewhere in the rooms above. The faint whispers echoed around the room, magnified by the rock. A second later and a scraping sound reached them.

  Jennie’s eyes widened. She sprinted back up the stairs and made her way through the rooms. When she reached the stairs leading to the surface, she was afforded enough of a glance to find a man dragging the stone slab back into place in the under stairs cupboard.

  Jennie raced up the stairs and barged shoulder-first against the stone. It jolted, but the man held fast and pushed back. The remaining sliver of light raised Jennie’s alarm. As it closed, she realized she was all that stood between the men getting their way and her team avoiding being trapped once again.

  “Help me out, will you?” the man called. The rock was pushed toward Jennie again, and the final gap closed.

  Jennie shouldered the rock again but felt no give. Tanya came up to join her and added to the push on their side, but whatever they’d done on the other side of the rock held it securely in place.

  “Wait here,” Jennie told Tanya.

  Tanya looked disheveled, already concerned about being trapped under the ground in a secret basement once inhabited by witches.

  Jennie latched onto Baxter, and together they melted through the rock. They made their way out of the cupboard and stopped in the hallway, no more than a couple feet away from a handful of men who were grinning triumphantly.

  “That oughta hold them in place,” a burly man declared, clapping his hands to clear the dirt from his palms. “The Dragon was right, straight back to the witch’s house. So predictable.”

  Another man, this one more slight with a receding hairline, nodded. “Thought she’d put up more of a fight, given what the boss said about her. She was supposed to be stronger than that?”

  “Nah, not strong,” the third commented. “Just good at communicating with specters.”

  The first thug shuddered. “Creepy things. Ain’t no difference between them and ghosts, I reckon.”

  The third man cocked an ear toward the rock. “Awfully quiet, ain’t they?”

  “Thick rock,” the balding man explained. “Come on, let’s go give Vincenzo the good news. They’ll want some of that with their reunion tour coming up, won’t they?”

  “Think we’ll get a reward for this?” the first man asked.

  A woman whose hair was cut into a short bob and had a face like a stone gargoyle walked in. “I fucking hope so. If she is as dangerous as they say she is, we just put our necks on the line.” She bumped into a sideboard, and an ancient vase toppled and smashed. “Oh, shit. Let’s get out of this place. It’s dirty, and it’s giving me the creeps.”

  The first man grinned. “I thought you liked it dirty.”

  “Not now,” the woman replied, rolling her eyes.

  Jennie exchanged a look with Baxter as Feng Mian and Carolyn came out from a cupboard under the stairs.

  “Vincenzo?” Jennie asked Baxter, aware the mortals wouldn’t hear her as a specter. “He’s one of the Seven, right?”

  Baxter and Carolyn shrugged.

  “I think so,” Baxter replied.

  Feng Mian nodded. “He is. Last seen in Pennsylvania, Cassie informed us. Your SIS friends are there hunting for him right now.”

  Jennie cocked an eyebrow. “Then how the hell is he ordering these guys around Richmond so effectively?” A dawning realization crossed her mind and made her blood run cold. She needed confirmation, and she needed it fast.

  Jennie ran through the thugs and reached the doorway before they did. As she passed through them, the woman shuddered. “Jesus, freezing in here. Did you feel that?”

  The balding man, trying to maintain his bravado, shook his head. “No. Don’t know what you’re talking about. Got the spooks, have you?”

  A moment before they reached the door, they froze as Jennie disconnected from Baxter and turned material before them. She appeared in the blink of an eye, casually leaning one arm against the rotting door jamb as she inspected the nails on her other hand. “Oh, dear. Oh, dear. You are in trouble, aren’t you?”

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Richmond, Virginia, USA

  “I hate to say this, but your boss might have allowed you to enter combat ill-prepared.” Jennie aimed the Big Bitch in their direction, causing them to freeze. “It’s not his fault. I can’t imagine he would believe the stories since he hasn’t met me in person. Most people who hear about a woman who can tread the line between specter and mortal brush it aside and think it’s BS. But now that you know better, you’ll be able to tell your boss, won’t you?”

  The thugs remained tight-lipped. A couple of them growled, but none of them moved.

  “The problem is,” Jennie continued, “that I’m a big fan of balance. Karma. The world exists on the edge of a knife. Tilt too far one way and…poof. You’ve fallen to your doom. You people came in here with the intention of trapping me in a basement for God knows how long. I could’ve died in there. Suffocated. No one would have found my body.”

  The woman boldly stepped forward. The man to her right grabbed her wrist. “But you didn’t, did you? You’re here holding us at gunpoint. Think that makes us even, don’t you?”

  Jennie grinned. “Nice try, bitch. The problem is, you didn’t expect this to happen. I escaped without incident, but it doesn’t mean you get away scot-free. We need to balance the tables, don’t we?”

  “What do you suggest?” the man nearest to Jennie asked.

  “Good question.” Jennie held the Big Bitch on the group and touched her lip. “How about an eye for an eye? You thought you’d killed me, so I’ll kill one of you.”

  They looked uneasily at each other.

  “I’m serious,” Jennie confirmed. “Four of you can live. The other will die. Pick one.”

  When they remained silent, Jennie tapped her wrist. “You’ve got sixty seconds. Go.”

  The group fell into a sudden and urgent debate that quickly devolved into a cacophony of shouts. In the confines of the corridor, they screamed at each other, shoving each other into the walls as they punched, clawed, and kicked.

  Jennie waited patiently, with Baxter on the other end of the hallway by the door to the basement. He smirked as he watched them fight like animals, each one desperate to not be the sacrifice for the rest.

  When sixty seconds had passed, Jennie shouted to draw their attention. They slowed down, faces flushed and breathing heavily. Jennie bounced her eyebrows. “Well?”

  They started shouting over one another again, each stating their case for survival. Jennie shook her head and aimed at the balding man near the back. “Enough! You’ll do. Say goodbye, friend. I’m sorry it had to end this way.”

  The man’s eyes widened and he waved his hands in front of his face. “No! No! Please, I swear… No!”

  He ducked behind one of the other men, who immediately shoved him back to the foreground. As a team, they grabbed him and held him before Jennie. He was inches away from the barrel of the gun.

  Jennie held his gaze for a few seconds before shaking her head and sighing. “I expected no better from you than to cower and let someone else make the decision for you. Where I’m from, it would be an honor to die protecting those you care about. But that’s not what this is, is it? None of you gives a shit about the others. You’re all in this for yourselves.”

  Jennie holstered the Big Bitch. The man breathed a sigh of relief.

  Jennie continued. “You tell me where I can find this Vincenzo motherfucker, and I’ll let you all go. How’s that?”

  Their faces contorted in a mixture of emotions. Many of them wanted to save their own lives, but none of them wanted to be known as the rat who snitched on their boss. Jennie was unsurprised to find it was the balding man before her that gave up the answers.

  “I’ll tell you where he is,” he grumbled. “He’s at—”

  The woman grabbed the back of his head and was about to ram his skull against the wall when a shot exploded in the hallway.
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br />   The woman’s head disappeared in a fountain of crimson as the bullet passed through her skull and embedded itself in the wall.

  The other thugs froze, holding their breath.

  Jennie growled and lowered the pistol. “I warned you. Don’t fuck with me. I’m really not in the mood.” She turned to the balding man. “You were saying?”

  “Hotel Snyder,” the man answered, his voice dropping a level in volume. “We arrived this morning and were set straight to work by the Dragon. Vincenzo is leaving for some meeting later today, but I don’t know when.”

  “Hotel Snyder?” Jennie confirmed.

  The man nodded his head.

  Jennie chewed her lip in thought, eyes narrowed at the remaining men. The one at the back couldn’t look away from the bloody mess before him.

  “Relax,” Jennie scolded. “She was always going to be a problem. I’ve come across a million women like her in my lifetime. You’re better off without her. Now, wait right here while I get my friends out of the basement.”

  She moved toward the men, who were so taken aback by her brazenness that the idea of grabbing her didn’t even cross their mind. She kept the pistol on them, warning them not to move a muscle, and beckoned them over to the cupboard beneath the stairs.

  “Get it open. Stay where I can see you,” she instructed. “I’m fast. Don’t test me.”

  Jennie kept the Big Bitch trained on the men as they ducked beneath the stairs and pulled the slab free. “Now move,” she told them in an icy tone.

  Tanya coughed, then breathed in the clean air when she made it into the light. She froze as she saw the men.

  “Interrupting a party?” she asked. Her eyes landed on the dead woman. “I guess not.”

  Jennie waited until Tanya and the specters who had been accompanying her were out of the basement before addressing the men once more. “Go on, then. Your turn.”

  The men stared at her blankly.

  “What?” she continued. “You think after all you’ve seen of me that I’m the kind of person that would kid about this shit? Get your traitorous arses inside. Now.”