by Kyle Olson
The Secretary of the Airforce closed his eyes for several seconds. When he opened them again, they held a sharp, unfeeling edge. “Depending on the area we engage in, we could use the Deforester.”
“You’re sayin’ to drop a bomb meant to wipe out bases and whole armies on one person?
“I am not sure about whole armies,” The Secretary continued, “But yes, the explosion radius is lethal to unprotected individuals within half a mile. Anything within the central two, three hundred feet or so is guaranteed to be obliterated if it’s not deep underground.”
“Gods below,” Temmen breathed, unaware of the irony of his words, “That would be an absolute worst-case scenario. If we can help it at all, let’s avoid wiping our own towns off the map.”
There was always the middle option between tyrant and hero—that of a president faced with a hard decision, one that even in a hundred years, would still be up for debate by both scholars and proles.
“And what if we did nothing?” said the Chief of Security, “Let her go about her business?”
“Same as letting some mad terrorist walk about ‘cause you’re afraid of ‘em,” snorted the general, “They’re going to destroy something sooner or later.”
Darrin continued, as if the general had never spoken, “We have one confirmed case with the incident in Erton and another in Yosel. While we don’t have a matching ID on the people, or wolves, the method was the same. However, I must present, Seraphina Isolde has been to Erton many times in the past. There is no guarantee anything will occur outside of a lucrative business deal.”
“Solid point,” Temmen replied, “We let her go, nothing happens. No one knows. Ten years from now we all forget. Damnation,” he slapped a hand down on the table, “That woman is a threat in a way no man could hope to be. Ain’t even about makin’ sure she gets punishment for the crime. That god is a bomb waitin’ to go off, and it’s already gone off twice.”
“As you say, Sir,” The chief said, emotionless, “But I must ensure all sides are given consideration.”
“And I appreciate it,” Temmen said, putting on a homey, if weary, smile and resting a hand on the other mans’ shoulder, “I also wish we didn’t have to do this, but that’s the real test, ain’t it? Those poor bastards who never had to make a decision during their terms. No one remembers them.”
The Secretary of the Airforce cleared his throat, “History is littered with hard choices, you’re right. Now, I need yours. Do I have your authorization to ready the ordnance as we track her?”
President Temmen sucked in a deep, chest-heaving breath. He looked at the Secretary and the special forces colonel. “You have your authorization, but only so much as we’ve discussed here, got it?”
“Affirmative,” said the colonel, with the note of someone who was both excited to see some action and have a purpose, and someone who understood it was taking place within his own country, in a time of peace, against one person.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Tess and Sophia had their doubts about the motel when they’d arrived. A dump in the middle of nowhere, a tiny town for rich people who’d rather drive an hour to their jobs in the nearby city than live in it. Went to show Sejit’s resolve that she’d pick out a place where the outdoor pool had more leaves in it than water. Granted, no one was likely to use it considering it was still the cold season, but that it wasn’t even covered hinted that it wasn’t much different in the summer.
Tess knocked on the door to the room.
A shuffling of activity came from within, and then, the door swung open. However, neither Yf nor Sejit had been the ones to open it.
“Tess!” Tarkit came at her and wrapped her up in a hug that made her hiss in pain, “Ah, sorry!”
“Whatever, it’s fine,” Tess said, swallowing the pain. A bead of sweat appeared on her forehead. “Just feels like there’s a fire in my lungs and someone’s been using my ribs as a fucking xylophone.”
“Still injured? Should you be here?”
Sophia and Tess dropped their lone bags onto the floor in the room.
The motel room, with its two single-person-sized beds, was not intended to handle more than three, maybe four people. Five individuals, plus a tiger—even if the tiger was kept at the size of a house-cat—made for a crowd.
“Should I be here? What about you?” Tess said, directing her words to the lion goddess lounging on one of the beds.
“No telling what might happen. I would prefer to keep those I care for close by,” said Sejit.
“You ole’ softy,” Yf giggled. Sejit sighed.
“Well hey, the gang’s all here,” Sophia chimed in, “How about that?”
“How about that,” Tess repeated, still giving Sejit an undue amount of attention, “I’m assuming there’s been an addition to our little plan?”
“…No,” said Sejit with her words and “Yes” with her return look.
The overall plan, at least as it was, had been as simple as they could come. So simple a short text message in the group was all that’d been required. There’d been no complicated plots or detailed involvements requiring orchestrated action. This was because the time for covert actions, subtle maneuvering had come and gone and shown nothing for it.
Sejit and Tess would march through the front gates with Yf watching over Tarkit and Sophia in the motel. If needed, Yf could provide assistance via Hydon, with need determined on the fly because, while Sophia was able to finger a number of gods following along with Daontys and their locations, there were countless other possible suspects and it took the poor girl a good chunk of time to divine their allegiance and whereabouts.
When it came to it, they would pair off with Tess against Daontys and Sejit against Ifon. It wasn’t just a matter of injuries and recovery and raw strength, but their skill-sets were lined up well against one another. Probably. Tess and Daontys had never scrapped, so it was just an educated, possibly hopeful, guess.
This was all reiterated in person by Sejit.
“Uh, one thing,” Sophia asked as Sejit’s truncated plan came to an end, “I know you guys are going to try and keep your war nice and tidy, but what if shit gets out of hand, like in Sioun? Or worse? You haven’t said anything about what’ll happen then.”
“Okay,” Sejit said with mild irritation, “Can you predict what will happen? The last time I acted upon your information, it turned out to be incorrect and led us to this situation.”
“How many times do I have to apologize!” Sophia shot back, “Figuring out what it all means is hard.”
“Then as you are not yet mature enough, you cannot be relied upon. I must act as I see fit.”
“So why bother,” Sophia said, throwing her hands up, “This isn’t a plan, this is just you telling us you’re going to stroll up there and start shit like some kind of hooligan!”
Sejit jolted as if the accusation struck her. “Hooligan?”
“That has been her favored way to deal with problems long as I can remember,” said Tarkit, stroking his chin in thought.
“Sejit’s always been a ruffian,” Yf tittered, “A real bad girl.”
A glare that threatened unspeakable consequences silenced Yf. Tarkit got off easy—though, by some comparisons it may have been worse—with a ‘stern mother’ face.
“I agree,” Tess said, “Simple and direct, because where have centuries of grab-ass gotten us? Right. The fuck. Here.”
Her last four words come out slow, each syllable stressed and enunciated.
Yf stretched out like an unimpressed cat, one eye closed and the other half-open. “You’re forgetting centuries of grab-ass is the reason why we’re all still here.”
“Is it?” Tess’ words came from behind her teeth, “Or maybe it’s bullshit we’ve been telling ourselves.”
Brows across the room rose in surprise, save for Sophia’s, who had been shoved to the rear of the conversation by the years of history amongst those assembled.
“You’ve had quite the change of h
eart,” said Tarkit.
“I’ve had a lot of time to think shit over.”
“What we have done, or have not done, does not matter now,” said Sejit, standing on one leg, the other with its foot to the wall as she leaned against it. The yellowed light from the cheap incandescent bulb on the wall fixture cast her faint shadow long across the room.
“What matters is what we will do.”
Her emerald eyes were sharp as razors, focused on some distant point only she could see.
“Funny shit coming from you,” Tess said, “But hey, you’re right. So, your non-plan aside, when do we begin?”
“Now.”
“Works for me,” Tess said, lips crooking upwards.
But, before they could move more than a few steps towards the door, Tarkit interrupted them. “If what’s happened in the past doesn’t matter,” he said, concern etched deeper on his face than the crow’s feet or creases around his mouth, “Why fight at all? I know you’ve not forgotten. Or, have you decided to rule the world?”
Venom flecked his words, coating the barb.
“I do as I must,” Sejit declared, “Else we will forever be plagued by their efforts.”
“Taking on their means is the same as having lost to them,” Tarkit implored with his hands as much as his words, “If you fight now, the world will remember.”
Sejit’s chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm with each calm breath, calm, yet the faint whisper of rushing wind could be heard throughout the room. She’d thought long and hard over this topic, this matter, but had yet to give voice to it.
“Perhaps it is time they remember.”
“…Is that so?” Her son’s head drooped; he forced a wan smile, “Then for my sake as much as theirs, I pray you do not destroy the world trying to save it.”
His mother stiffened, turning to each other person in the room as if daring them to say something. Tess was the only one who dared.
“He’s got a fuckin’ point.”
“Is that so? Are you now having second thoughts?”
“Gaka-kof-ka-kofkof,” Tess wheezed, faced all scrunched up, “Not at all. I was merely observing, insinuating, even, that this little bit of woody mountainside is about to get a whole lot more barren.”
“Yet you willingly join.”
“I have my own bones to pick. Can’t let you hog all the fun.”
“Even you, Tess?” Tarkit, once broad shouldered and bodied, had shrunk smaller than Sophia, “Why?”
Seeing the boy so sullen and downcast was enough to take the wind out of her sails, but still the ship plowed on, carried by centuries of inertia. “You know damned well why.”
He tried to continue, to convince them, but was silenced by Yf’s hand resting atop his. “They’ve made up their mind,” she said, “All we can do now is watch and pick up the pieces when it’s over.”
Not even bothering with an attempt to conceal her weapon, Sejit made to leave the room. She paused in the doorway and turned back towards her son. A rush of cold, damp air blew through the room. He was old, almost twice the age of the average mortal. Still healthy and hearty, she expected he’d live for years to come.
Or he could die of a heart attack tomorrow.
She’d forced herself forward with ease until that point, foot on the threshold. His words, from then to now and all points in-between, crowded in her mind. What she was doing was selfish, no doubt, and the reasons she’d come up with were simple justification.
Except for one.
For there to be any chance of seeing the dream become real in his lifetime, this path had to be taken, even if it meant damning herself. Already too much time had passed and this was the fastest, surest course.
But, maybe, that too was nothing more than a justification to slake her thirst, a salve for her pride. Sejit smiled at Tarkit, sandy hair tussling about her face.
“You may not understand, but I do this for you. I love you.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” he sighed, “Love you too.”
Observing in silence, an unusual thing for her, Tess nodded to Tarkit as she left, following Sejit outside. Before she closed the door, she said, “The next time you see us, we’ll have their heads on her pike.”
“Please don’t,” Sophia implored, to which Tess snickered.
Once the door had clicked shut, Sophia and Yf watched from the window as the pair walked a few sure, confident steps, then sort of slow to a stop and look around. Tess pulled a phone from her pocket and she prodded at the screen for a minute.
The blinds shivered as Yf snickered and pulled away, flopping back down upon the bed. “I was thinking those two weren’t planning on walking all the way there.”
“Are they really just going to stand there in that shitty misty rain? It’s cold out!”
“Not like they could just come back in after that,” Tarkit said, taking a heavy seat on the edge of the other bed.
“Huh.”
Sophia would have expected them to just come right back in. Sure they had their pride, but that’d never stopped them before. Something different was going on, but she couldn’t put a finger on the what.
They’d taken the taxi all the way to the top of the access road for Daontys’ manor, after a short debate about whether or not they should walk on up from the highway. While stepping out of a beige four-door economy car lacked a certain panache when it came to making an entrance, the same could be said for trundling up the winding path through the cold, misty rain and arriving with matted hair and damp clothing.
The driver had remarked about Sejit’s polearm the moment they stepped inside the vehicle—its length made it so one of the rear seats had to be folded down to fit it, and even then, with the bottom of the shaft resting against the dashboard, the blade still poked from the trunk. It was just a historical museum piece. That was all. She was a purveyor of such things.
Because taxi drivers can never stay quiet for long or keep their opinions to themselves, he’d also remarked on the sorry state of the manor as it came into view. Sejit claimed it was a recent renovation.
For the short drive Tess had managed to hold off on her smoke, but, soon as she stepped out, she lit up, and coughed up half a lung. She got a curious, somewhat concerned look from the driver, but she shooed him off with a wave of her hand.
Before he’d had a chance to think of leaving, Daontys and Ifon appeared, emerging from one of the few doors that remained.
“You couldn’t have given us another hour?” Ifon said, his eyes flicking for a moment on Tess, but settling on Sejit, “I haven’t even been here half a day. “
“Sorry,” Tess glowered, cigarette hanging from a corner of her lip, “Takes me a while to get back on my feet after getting the shit kicked out of me.”
Daontys shook his head, “If only you’d the good sense to die.”
“Kiss my ass, fucker.”
Her voice was loud enough for the driver to hear. While he wasn’t in the biggest hurry to leave, he found himself wanted to take things a bit more cautiously, eyes glued to the four of them. Just in case they might wander into the path of his vehicle.
Sejit cleared her throat in a specific manner—the sort of manner that spoke, without words, of patience hanging by the barest threads and none would be safe should it break—which forestalled any follow-up commentary. “This ends today. No more threats. No more talk.”
“No more talk?” Ifon said, bemused, “Yet there you are. Talking.”
“Here I am. Talking,” Sejit’s gaze was a stiletto, ready to pierce through the wolf, “Don’t play stupid with me. I know you better than that.”
A confident smirk spread across his face, “And I know you! The only reason you haven’t attempted to tear us apart is because you’re afraid. Couldn’t say if it’s of us, or something else, but there it is.”
The lioness twitched. All her clothing from boots to pants to blouse strained against a surging bulk.
“Careful,” Daontys said, earnestly, beginning
to pace with his hands folded at the small of his back. He took a few steps one way, then the other, his head swiveling to stay focused on the source of danger, “I would like to add that yes, the reason we are talking instead of casting your bodies down from the precipice of these cliffs is because we too have our reasons. You’re right,” he said, heavily, “This must end, but I assume you wish to enforce limits?”
“Limits,” Tess shook her head, “They already know. They all fuckin’ do. Even him,” she jerked a thumb back towards the car that was idling down the driveway. The driver looked away but chanced another peek a few seconds later.
In an attempt to release the strain, Sejit cracked her neck one way then the other. “They know, but not everything. Let’s not attract too much attention, yes?”
Everyone, especially Ifon, had their breath caught for an eternal second. The biggest warning sign of all had appeared. “…Perhaps there’s merit to the suggestion.”
“Gakaka-kofkof,kaaakof fuckit! I really fuckin’ hate you,” Tess spat a wad of coughed up gunk in Ifon’s direction.
“And you should have stayed home. I admit I was wrong about you before, but how do you intend to fight in that state?”
“How?” Tess said, scratching her head as two pointed jackal ears grew up from her skull—resulting in her scratching herself behind the ears. She plucked the cigarette from her lips, “That’s a good question, really,” and flicked it towards Daontys.
Ifon, owing to his first-hand encounter, sprinted away without a thought. Daontys, who’d merely been told what transpired, did not have it writ upon his body and psyche, and so saw fit to observe the tumbling, smoldering stick as if she were merely littering. Wit came screaming at him too late.
The pinwheeling roll of tobacco and paper flecked ash as it went.
And then erupted in a massive ball of fire. Ifon and Sejit had made good on keeping distance, but even still, the conflagration blackened errant bits of clothing, and in Sejit’s case, even managed to singe some of her billowing hair. Daontys screeched and rolled backwards, parts of himself alight. The flames heeded their master, parting around Tess as she strode forward, though the heat of the inferno still sucked the wind from her lungs and induced another fit of coughs, which ruined any sort of image she had been going for, had anyone been watching instead of avoiding the ravenous flames.