ONSET: Stay of Execution

by Glynn Stewart

  “Our country has to decide how they want to operate in a world with the supernatural as a known reality. We have to make sure the world is still here once they do.”

  David and Mason retreated to the office he’d taken over after sending their teams to prep, taking seats behind the desk as she set up the link back to the Campus.

  Warner appeared on the screen looking utterly exhausted, nodding calmly to them before the screen split in half to include Charles’s long, scaly face, then into thirds to include Colonel Ardent’s flat expression.

  “In any world where things weren’t going insane, you would both be in an immense but survivable pile of trouble,” Ardent told them calmly. “There are arguments to cover for your disobedience to orders, and I’d be willing to field them, but our superiors are unwilling to hear them.

  “Fortunately for you, Commander O’Brien took it upon himself to shield you and Major Warner, and I have enabled this,” he continued. “Unfortunately for us all, the result of that is far worse than we expected.

  “Commander O’Brien appears to have anticipated the situation. He has disappeared. I am…reasonably certain I know where ONSET Nine is and have already begun pushing to have Agents Ix and Akono released back to my custody.

  “Officially, all Omicron agents have been ordered to regard O’Brien as armed and dangerous and to report his presence without engaging. ONSET teams that encounter him are expected to take him into custody, but I am concerned that the clear intent is for us to pass his location on to a third party.”

  “What third party can they expect to arrest O’Brien?” David asked carefully.

  “I…do not know with certainty,” Ardent admitted. “What I suspect, however, is that we are expected to hand his location over to kill squads that are black even by Omicron standards.”

  Kill squads. That…was not a phrase David had expected to hear in this context. The realization that the government might have had an even blacker organization whose job was to watch ONSET and the rest of Omicron made sense, but for them to immediately leap to kill orders was…nerve-wracking.

  “What do we do, sir?” Mason asked.

  “Your jobs, Commander,” the Colonel said flatly. “O’Brien made his choice and is now beyond our ability to protect or help. We must make sure to continue to operate as we always have and demonstrate that ONSET is just as trustworthy as it ever was.

  “In pursuit of that…Charles?”

  It was hard to read emotions or opinions on the dragon’s face. You could anthropomorphize enough to guess, but it was always a dangerous game. Today, though, David was quite sure that Charles was maintaining an unusual level of control.

  “In the midst of everything, we have an old problem rearing its ugly head,” the dragon told them. “Ai’ve been studying the pattern of attacks, as Ai told ye. We’ve identified at least one central point.”

  “Where?” David asked.

  “The lodge where Ekhmez was summoned,” the dragon said. “We knew it was a weak point in the Seal now, and it has not recovered as it should.”

  “Charles told us this, so we started reviewing the surveillance,” Warner said, taking over. “It’s been dead and frozen for a year, but…something triggered about an hour ago. We think there’s someone at the site right now.”

  “We’re ready to deploy,” David told them. “Give the word.”

  “That’s where we want ONSET Thirteen, yes,” Ardent told them. “Mason, we have a different role for ONSET Fifteen. We have another Code Red in North Carolina. It was ONSET Nine’s area of responsibility, but since someone has locked up the remaining members of that team, you’re the closest.”

  “Coordinates will be relayed to both of you via your normal control and analysis teams,” Warner told them. “We’ve got headaches all around, people, and a giant distraction in the media circus. Let’s keep the ball rolling.”

  The two Commanders found themselves alone in the office as the video conference ended, considering their options and each other. With the cameras off, David offered Kate his hand over the desk. She took it and squeezed gently.

  “This tempo has to slow down,” she said quietly. “We’re burning our teams out.”

  “Stone should still be on bed rest,” David agreed. “I’m going to take him into action anyway because I need the extra hands.”

  He shook his head.

  “You be careful,” he told her, gripping her hand fiercely. “I’m not prepared to lose you.”

  She leaned over and kissed him.

  “I’m not prepared to lose you, either,” she pointed out. “We both have jobs to do, but I do rather insist you come back to me. With notably fewer nukes this time, mind you.”

  He chuckled, but the humor died.

  “I can’t believe I set this all in motion,” he murmured. The nuke was what had done it. They’d needed the weapon to turn the tide at the Mountain, but…that had become impossible to ignore.

  “I think you can probably blame the troll, actually,” Kate reminded him. “That would have shown up regardless of whether we nuked the vampires. And once we fought a troll on live TV…”

  “This whole thing was fucked,” he said. “But…O’Brien on the run? ONSET Nine locked up? What’s going on?”

  “Our government is panicking,” Kate said quietly. “They’re not thinking straight and they’re leaping to what they think might help them survive the next election.”

  “If they keep this up, none of us might live that long,” David said. “This could get ugly—and that’s before we start counting the Code Reds.”

  “I’ll deal with that,” Kate promised. “You go find out who’s poking around Ekhmez’s summoning circle. We do not want that asshole coming back.”

  David snorted.

  “I wish I could say he was dead, but I’m not entirely sure decapitating a higher-court demon, even with Memoria, is enough to make sure one of the Pure stays dead.”

  Kate winced. “I’m…relatively sure it isn’t, sadly,” she admitted.

  “Well…worst-case scenario, I kill him again,” David said firmly, with a confidence he didn’t quite feel.

  Before he could get up, however, Mason slipped out of her chair and into his lap, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his.

  “I’m afraid, David,” she said quietly. “The world is coming apart and I’m not sure we can trust our bosses. What do we do?”

  He held her silently for a few moments.

  “We serve and protect,” he finally replied. “We do the job. But…we watch our backs. And we watch our friends’ backs.”

  They held each other in silence for a few more seconds. But the world didn’t allow them more time than that.

  They both had jobs to do.

  12

  Michael O’Brien made it to the small towns north of the Potomac before there was any sign he hadn’t made a clean getaway. He was trotting along a suburban street when he caught the sound of helicopters approaching.

  That he could hear them at all told him he they weren’t ONSET or OSPI aircraft—both of the Omicron policing organizations used the Pendragon, which was enchanted to be utterly silent from the outside.

  Pausing, he sat down on the side of the road and panted, looking behind him. He had far better distance vision than a regular dog would have, so he was able to see the helicopters moving forward. There were maybe six in his line of sight, moving in a rough formation that allowed them to sweep a massive amount of ground.

  He wasn’t sure how they expected to find him, but it seemed like hiding might be a better idea than moving. A dog moving with clear purpose might stand out enough to attract their attention, but one sleeping under someone’s deck would probably pass without notice.

  Michael had made his way into an empty backyard when a strange buzzing sensation swept over the back of his skin, the long yellow hair of his current form spiking out in a dozen directions in reaction to the strange energy wave.

  He�
�d been detected. He wasn’t sure how or by what, but one of the helicopters had a bead on him and was turning towards the yard he’d picked to hide in.

  Somehow, his pursuers could detect his transformed self. That was unexpected and problematic.

  He ran.

  He might be wearing the skin of a midsized golden retriever, but he had all of the strength and speed of the supernatural wolf he normally transformed into. He leapt the fence in a single bound and hit the ground running, blurring down the street and causing sudden shouts of surprise and fear as he leapt over a dog-walker with four terriers on leashes.

  He was reasonably sure it didn’t matter if the helicopter was armed. They weren’t going to fire off missiles or machine guns at a dog in the street, however sure they were. What they were going to do…was have two more helicopters fly ahead and land, deploying teams of young men in neat-looking black suits.

  Those men started spreading out, trying to cut off his escape as they clearly took a moment to locate the particular dog they were chasing. They didn’t move right. They were too fast for mortals, but not smooth enough to be supernaturals.

  Their movements were jerky, rapidly stopping and starting in a way he’d never seen before. They weren’t as fast as he was…but there were a dozen of them closing with him now, and it was a safe assumption they were all armed.

  The sight must have been very strange to anyone around them. A dozen men in suits trying to cut off and pin down a relatively ordinary-looking dog, though that dog was moving far faster than any normal canine.

  Michael left the ground in a massive leap that should have taken him between the closest two suits, well outside their reach. Instead, he collided with one of them as the youth jerked impossibly into the way.

  They rolled, Michael trying to break free without having to injure the other man. He didn’t know who these people were, but he wasn’t going to leap straight to killing them!

  The stranger might have been far too fast for a mortal, but he wasn’t fast enough or strong enough to keep up with a thoroughly pissed-off werewolf, regardless of what form the werewolf happened to be wearing right now.

  Michael’s entire canine weight slammed into an awkwardly placed leg, and the young man went down with a sickening crack as his shin snapped. One firm headbutt later and Michael was free, diving away from the injured agent and running.

  “Stop!” a voice bellowed. “Commander O’Brien, we have the authority here! Stand down and surrender or we will fire!”

  They were making interesting assumptions about a random dog, Michael noted. They certainly weren’t letting that slow them down. Gunfire echoed through the Washington suburb a moment later, even the silenced pistols his pursuers produced painfully loud in his ears.

  None of the bullets hit him, but they were getting closer than he liked, and they were still actively chasing him. They had helicopters, numbers, and firepower.

  He had…a river.

  More gunfire followed him as he reached the edge of the Potomac and leapt, releasing his transformation as he did. He hit the rushing water with brutal force that took his breath away, losing the gun Ix had given him in moments as the cold water rushed over him.

  He was hoping that they could only detect him when he was transformed, and focused on getting as deep as he could. He still needed to breathe…but he could go a lot longer without oxygen than even most supernaturals, and unless they could detect his untransformed self in the water, he’d be safe.

  Keeping his eyes and ears open for pursuit, he let the current sweep him away.

  “Are you okay?”

  It took Michael a moment to reorient himself and identify the jogger who’d spoken. She was an attractively chubby blonde woman, probably in her mid-forties, clad in the stereotypical “urban jogger” outfit.

  She was also coming over to where he lay gasping on the stones next to the river. He struggled to his feet, suddenly aware that, soaked as he was, he might as well have been completely naked.

  And the woman was definitely eating the eye candy, even as she was checking on him.

  “I think I’m fine,” he told her, coughing some more. “My friends bet me I couldn’t swim across the river.”

  Looking back at the Potomac, he forced a laugh.

  “You need new friends,” the woman told him dryly. His responding laugh was much more honest.

  “In their defense, they were high as balls,” he lied quickly. “But it’s amazing how sober you get when you hit freezing water!”

  “Are you okay?” she repeated. “You look…cold.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said.

  “Can I call you an Uber or a cab or something?” she asked quickly. “I’m guessing you don’t have a phone or any money on you!”

  Michael looked down at his soaked boxers and chuckled.

  “Not really,” he admitted, looking over to try and find a street sign. He was too far away from his apartment building to walk.

  “If I could borrow a phone to call a cab, though, I’d appreciate it,” he said. “I have cash if I can get back to my apartment.”

  The woman chuckled, glancing at the path she’d been jogging along, then back at his mostly unclothed form.

  “Now, my dear, what kind of Christian would I be if I just called you a cab and left you to freeze out here?” she asked. “My car’s only a few minutes’ walk, and I’ve got a couple of towels in the trunk; you can dry off while we get you home.”

  “You, miss, are an angel,” Michael told her fervently.

  Michael’s rescuer delivered him to his apartment building, where a six-digit code let him in. The state of the apartment set aside for him, however, was not what he’d been expecting.

  He’d paid for the apartment to be refurnished three years earlier, and renovated ten years earlier. From the motheaten dust covers and faded linoleum, not only had those refurbishments not happened, but the refurbishments before that hadn’t happened either.

  Fortunately, the safe the lawyer he’d retained for this purpose kept stocked was still there and contained what it should. He handed his rescuer, who was eyeing the entire apartment askance, a stack of twenties.

  “Thank you for the rescue,” he told her.

  “It was my pleasure; I don’t need this,” she replied.

  “Take it,” he insisted. “Consider it a bribe to forget how bad the apartment looks!”

  “If you insist, mister.” She looked around, shaking her head. “Good luck with those friends of yours.”

  He closed the door behind her, surveyed his safe house, and sighed.

  Apparently, he should have told the lawyer to send him pictures of the place. All he’d told the woman to do, however, was make sure the safe and closet were stocked.

  The clothes in the closet, like the safe, lived up to expectations. And well beyond—the neatly bagged and organized clothes were in the sizes he’d given the lawyer. They were also the latest fashions, high-quality fabric and designer labels.

  At least one of the people taking care of this place hadn’t been screwing him over. Given that the money from the property management company went into trust with the law firm, that was probably a good thing.

  He’d take the cash and go buy a prepaid cellphone once he’d recharged. Grotty as the furniture was, the heat was working, the water was running, and the lawyer had done her job. It could be worse.

  He showered, dressed, and then carefully measured the wall away from the closet. Six steps. Seven. Back four inches.

  He punched into the wall, tearing a hole in the old drywall and looking in at the safe he’d installed himself almost thirty years earlier. He’d patched up the wall himself, so none of the people he’d hired had even known it was there.

  Michael ripped the safe out and spun the dials, plugging in the combination in seconds.

  The safe the lawyer knew about had money. The closet had clothes. The property management company was supposed to keep non-perishable food on hand, but he didn’t
trust that.

  The safe in the wall held things no mundane was supposed to know about. An M1911-Silver, modified for the different ballistic properties of the old solid-silver rounds. One of the first mageblades, an enchanted knife that would cut through anything. An enchanted lightweight Kevlar vest and silver bullets filled the rest of the safe. It was a small arsenal, put aside for if everything went wrong at some point.

  Michael O’Brien had given his life to the service of the United States of America.

  That didn’t mean he’d ever fully trusted Omicron’s superiors.

  13

  The hunting lodge was high enough to still be covered in snow and ice. David reflected that he’d apparently never see this place without it being frozen—not that he had any great desire to see the hunting lodge where the Church of the Black Sun had summoned a demon again.

  But duty called.

  “What are we seeing on the surveillance?” he asked McCreery as the Pendragon swept over the snow line and continued along the mountain chain.

  “Nothing definitive,” she warned him. “Something tripped the external motion sensors three hours and twenty-six minutes ago, but we have nothing to suggest they left afterwards. Overhead isn’t picking up anything, but the internal sensors are still occasionally pinging.

  “There’s someone in there, but they’re being careful and moving around enough that I can’t be sure where they are.”

  No one should be in the building at all—it had been seized by the government after the Black Sun had been taken down, and then laced with sensors just in case. Since someone was, he could only hope it was a lost skier.

  And not, for example, a rogue faction of demon summoners.

  “Set us down outside and then get back in the air to provide overwatch,” David ordered. “If anybody runs, they get one warning. Then shoot them down.”

  His pilot winced but nodded.