Wait. Atomic bomb. Hadn’t the genie tempted Ariel by offering to destroy a facility designed to give atomic weapons to her country’s enemies? A country that had vowed that they would destroy her country as soon as they had the means?
Yes, a quick swim revealed the location. Hard to hide refined uranium from an astral werewolf with a nose for transuranic elements.
Back at the fault, I lined up the shot. One quick flick of my finger and the energy would cause an earthquake that would swallow hundreds of acres of land, taking the uranium processing facility with it.
But there were still innocents at that facility. Support personnel who just needed to work. Could I give them a warning? Some pre-tremblors to force an evacuation?
That would require more control of my shot, and would lead to a greater chance they could remove the material and equipment and start over.
It was what I could live with. I took a deep breath and made my shot.
I gasped and opened my eyes. Blinking was hard, my eyelids were gummy. A wave of dizziness passed and I smelled myself. Ugh.
Mike was instantly at my side, handing me a bottle of lukewarm water. I sipped water through lips so badly cracked that they bled.
I finished the water and Mike handed me another bottle. Between sips, I examined him.
His beard had grown out and his eyes were hollow. Like the locals, he had wrapped a gutra around his head to block the sunlight. Despite the covering, his skin was deeply burned. That’s when I realized our shading camouflage canopy was gone.
It was hot, too hot. Crap, my magical air-conditioner had stopped when I went under.
“How long was I gone?”
“Four days,” he said. “I was beginning to worry.”
He tilted his head and examined me critically. “I don’t think you can do any more of these four-day-long trances. You look like crap.”
“I feel like crap, but I’ll bounce back. Anyway, I did everything I needed to do in one session.”
“We don’t have to camp out here for another few weeks?”
“No, I got everything done in one dive, but we need to get going. I set a lot of events in motion and we don’t want to be in this part of the world when they occur.”
I was weak as a kitten and my bladder was full, but I dredged up enough magic to activate the cooling spell. Not much to do about the shade, but it was already near sunset.
I stroked the dagger, ready to drop the circle and get moving to more hospitable locales, then stopped.
“Is there anything dangerous about?”
“Not now. There were some dust devils before. Nothing like the genie—these were tiny. But they kept banging against the circle, then finally got bored and blew away the canopy, and left.”
I rose like an old woman, creaking and groaning, before werewolf vitality brought me back to near-normal. I was still weak, but I could move.
“Okay. I’ll leave the circle up while we rest some more and pack.” My stomach growled. “And eat something.”
Mike sat station at the edge of the circle, facing outward while I cleaned up with my magic cloth, wiping away days of sweat and dirt.
I dressed in a spare desert-brown T-shirt and pants, then handed the cloth to Mike so he could clean up.
I busied myself dropping the circle and erasing all traces of our stay here while Mike wiped down and changed clothes. Like him, I found an excuse not to stare while he was naked.
We finished off two sets of MREs each, as well as the last of the water.
“You moved the oil?” asked Mike.
“The oil is moving. It’ll take a couple of weeks for the effect to be felt.”
“I thought you had failed; you were under so long.”
“I had to give the moon time to circle around the Earth. I used modulated gravity waves to image the interior of the Earth so I could—”
Mike stopped me with a raised palm. “I’m sure I wouldn’t understand the details, Luna. It sounds like you used the moon like a big rotating MRI magnet to x-ray the center of the Earth.”
“I didn’t use magnetism, too much interference from the magnasphere—”
He shook his head again. “If you say it worked, it worked. I’m just glad you came back alive.”
Were his eyes pooling with tears? Must be irritation from the sunlight and windblown grit.
“I told you I always come back.”
Mike nodded in agreement, then raised an eyebrow. “What now, Princess?”
“Call the ship for our pickup. We’re done.”
33
Two weeks later, we were sailing out of the Strait of Hormuz—or trying to, at least. The USS George Washington and her carrier battle group were blocking our way.
Lady Birdsong had called me to the communications center. Present in addition to the two of us were our captain, Mike, Manny, and some crew-members.
A 65-inch screen displayed several people, each in an individual window.
Prince Abdul and the CIA asshole were in one window. The carrier strike group commander, an admiral, was in another window, flanked by several senior officers.
And my old enemy General Marcus was in his own window. How the hell did this known demon keep bouncing back?
The video quality was excellent. I could make out details: the increasing number of white hairs in Prince Abdul’s beard, the tiny flames in the eyes of Marcus and Mr. Jonathan that denoted possession, the faint sheen of sweat on the admiral’s brow as he nervously twisted a heavy ring on the third finger of his left hand. When Mr. Jonathan tilted his head, three faint scars on his neck became visible, barely concealed by makeup and his collar.
As I slid into my seat at the table, a few drops of water dripped from my hair and splashed onto the polished teak. I wiped them up with the sleeve of my blouse.
Ignoring my interruption, Lady Birdsong said, “I repeat, we are an allied warship taking part in a confidential mission at the behest of the Crown. You interfere with us at your own risk.”
“And I repeat,” said the admiral, “you are to stand down, disable your weapons, and await a boarding party. The terrorist Luna White is on your ship and we have orders to arrest her at all costs.”
“I’ll thank you to use her royal title,” said Lady Birdsong. “Princess Luna has been granted sanctuary by Her Majesty’s government.”
“She’s no princess,” spat Marcus. “She’s a werewolf bitch with delusions of grandeur.”
“Princess Luna is now recorded in the classified edition of Blake’s Peerage. As such, we insist she enjoy the deference and privileges of her title.”
Other monitors around the room showed images of an unprecedented number of warships in our way. One camera tracked F-16 fighters with the Star of David on their tailfins. Another tracked several smaller warships with the crossed-swords emblem that denoted Saudi vessels. Several more warships with Arabic writing on their bows were from other countries.
“Princess Luna brings all the nations together,” murmured Mike while the discussion of my status continued in the background.
“We are a sovereign nation and we will not be bullied by a ragtag group of mercenaries.” Prim and proper, Lady Birdsong had a way of chilling the room with her tone.
“This, Lady Birdsong, is a coalition united to fight terrorism and anarchy. The crimes committed by this woman include the use of magical weapons of mass destruction, sabotage, and espionage. We are well within our rights to detain her.”
“Our queen wills it otherwise. Princess Luna has been guaranteed safe passage and sanctuary. The full force of our government will be brought to bear unless you back down.”
“Lady Birdsong, they’re not listening. Typical head-up-their-ass politicians. All they know how to do is threaten and intimidate,” I said.
“Yes, quite,” said Lady Birdsong. “However, you will find that Her Majesty’s subjects do not respond to intimidation.”
“You should be intimidated, you terrorist!” shouted the admiral.
“Any one of our escort vessels is more than a match for your vessel. If the George Washington were to attack, you’d be blown out of the water so fast you wouldn’t even know it was coming.”
I coughed slightly to interrupt. All eyes turned toward me. In my mildest tone, I said, “So you believe your ship to be invincible?”
“We’ll swat you like a fly. You and your entire pack.”
Mike murmured, just loudly enough to be overheard, “Don’t piss off the princess. You won’t like the result.”
I ignored Mike’s comments. He was doing something I couldn’t understand, tapping his fingers on the table in a nervous manner. But Mike was never nervous. He had walked into a hail of bullets for me without a tremor.
“But I note,” I said, copying Lady Birdsong’s precise tone, “that my ‘invincible’ enemies are hiding. They’re dialing in remotely to avoid being on your ship during this altercation. Perhaps, dear Admiral, they are not as assured as you are?”
I turned to Marcus. “Beekeeper, you plotted to throw me to the wolves, in a prison designed specifically to hold me. I came back leading the pack. Now you cower in a remote location, your finger on a button to cut us off if we should appear to have a prayer of a chance of surviving.”
I pointed to the CIA demon. “You tried to have me killed by your Saudi allies, rejecting our plea for sanctuary when we rescued American citizens from criminals. Then you tried to trap us in the British Embassy, hoping to secure our capture. When that failed, you engineered the capture, torture, and disfigurement of an innocent child.”
Mr. Jonathan snorted in contempt and opened his mouth to speak.
I interrupted him. “It’s useless to hide. We have your scent. I see you have already been visited by one of our friends.”
“The werewolf who attacked me is dead.”
“But he left a mark, did he not? Perhaps the next will not be so inept. Hide as you might, we can always sniff you out. There is nowhere on Earth you can hide from me and my pack.
“Prince Abdul, you used the promise of fame and riches to entice a child to betray her family. Then when caught out, you said that your country’s billions of dollars, trillions of barrels of oil, and vast influence would ensure that my pack and I would never know peace.”
His only response was a look of glaring hatred.
“How’s that oil flowing now, Prince? Are you at peace with recent events?”
“The oil still flows, terrorist.”
“But it’s a bit less each day, isn’t it? And your reserves will continue to dwindle, until your entire government is toothless and ignored, like the homeless women who beg on your streets after their families reject them.”
I’d heard that Saudi men hated being compared to women, but his reaction was over the top. He snarled and spat some phrases I had never heard before, then he tried to reach through the screen to attack.
I laughed at him and his face grew bright red. Maybe I could give the bastard a heart attack.
“And your Iranian allies, not present but listening in: How’s that uranium enrichment facility doing? You know, the one you insist doesn’t exist. Wasn’t there an earthquake in that area last week? Some would call that an act of God.”
“Gee, Luna,” drawled Mike, “wasn’t there an island in the Pacific Ocean that sank about a year or so ago? Come to think of it, that was the island where your husband was detained. Wasn’t he the only survivor?”
“Yes,” I said. “Mason is still angry about that. He’s the nicest man in the world, but when he gets angry, ‘acts of God’ occur with remarkable frequency.”
“You’re trying to claim credit for a natural disaster. But it is all lies, evidenced by the fact that even the Israelis have joined us,” said Marcus.
“Politics makes strange bedfellows,” I said. “Perhaps they would change their tune if they knew those diverted oil resources are now located—”
Marcus jabbed a button, which I assumed cut out the Israelis.
Lady Birdsong pursed her lips in disapproval, but kept quiet. I don’t normally go on so long in an argument. But the George Washington’s executive officer, standing at attention behind the admiral, had started to tap her unadorned fingers against her uniform pants.
I pointed to the admiral again to fix his attention on me. I held up my open hand. In my palm was a gold amulet with the chain twined between my fingers.
“You say your ship is invincible? Were I to raise a finger, your ship, the very sign of your world-conquering might, would be dead in the water.”
“Now we know why she’s named Luna,” spat Marcus with a laugh. “She’s a fucking lunatic.”
Emboldened by Marcus, the others laughed.
“Little miss, you can no more damage this aircraft carrier than a mosquito could damage a Sherman tan—”
His voice cut off as I popped one claw-tipped finger and the lights in their room went out.
The video link must have been on a battery backup, because the feed continued. They were bathed in deep red emergency lights, alarms sounding in the background. A voice came over the loudspeakers. “General quarters, general quarters. All hands, man your battle stations.”
“Know this, Admiral. This werewolf is neither lunatic nor a liar.”
A sailor raced into the conference room and whispered to the admiral. “Emergency reactor SCRAM, Admiral. It’ll take at least three hours to recover. Emergency generators should be online in thirty seconds.”
The lights came back up. The admiral gritted his teeth and said, “A mere coincidence. Maybe you have some kind of precog working for you and are attempting to use that to dupe us.”
“Really? And how about that submarine that’s shadowing your aircraft carrier? The USS Annapolis, if I’m not mistaken. She’s about five hundred feet behind your stern. Would foresight allow me to…?”
I popped up my second finger and sent a spell.
Thirty seconds passed in silence; the admiral looked pleased.
“Hah. Nothing happened. You’re a fraud—”
“Give it a minute,” I interrupted rudely.
The same sailor raced back into the conference room and whispered in the admiral’s ear. “The sub just appeared on the surface. They had a reactor SCRAM and had to do an emergency ascent. They’re dead in the water and are requesting assistance.”
The admiral’s face paled and he gulped. Then he shook his head in defiance. “You have spies and saboteurs onboard my ships. We’ve heard you have shapeshifters in your ranks. We’ll have to root them out.”
“Admiral, I just told you I don’t lie. Believe me when I say no one else was involved. Just little old me, the lunatic and her magical gadgets.”
“Our ships are well-protected from long distance magical attacks. Maybe the Chinese gave you access to some computer virus to SCRAM our reactors remotely. Like we did with the Stuxnet virus in Iran.”
“A computer virus from China? Really? That’s the best excuse you’re got?”
Mike interrupted, “That boat was radio silent. There’s no way we could have activated a computer virus from here. Face it, Admiral. You’re outgunned.”
“Hardly,” snarled the admiral. “Our weapons systems will be back online in minutes. Then we’ll blow your ship out of the water. You have nothing to compare to our missiles and aircraft.”
“What’s the opposite of a reactor SCRAM?” I mused. “Some kind of meltdown, right? Do sailors still call that the China syndrome?”
I held up my open hand, claws extended. “Were I to close my fist, your reactor would melt down and your ship would sink to the bottom of the sea, taking all your missiles and aircraft with it.”
I took a deep breath, and shifted my face back to human.
“Please don’t make me do this,” I pleaded. “I don’t want to kill any innocent sailors. Just pull back out of range and let us steam away.”
The captain opened his mouth to either reject me or to order an attack. Either action would kill thousand
s.
Mike whispered loudly to interrupt him, “Take out the submarine first. They only have about a hundred crew.”
I looked at him in surprise. Didn’t he want the admiral to go down with his ship?
“It might give the saner members of the carrier’s crew time to abandon ship. It’ll save thousands of lives and still prove your point.”
The executive officer touched the arm of the message runner and they both exited. They were ignored by everyone.
“Okay,” I said to Mike. “We’ll do the submarine first. How many minutes does the crew need to evacuate?”
Mike looked at the monitor that relayed a drone image of the floundering submarine. “They’re already started to abandon ship. It’s SOP for reactor emergencies. Give them fifteen minutes.”
While the sub’s crew evacuated—some in boats, some jumping into the water—the admiral stared at me. This human leader, even with an aircraft carrier under his ass, thought he could stare down an alpha? I could stare down assholes all day. Fifteen minutes was nothing.
At the fifteen-minute mark, he broke first. “Your threats are empty. The greatest navy in the world bows to no terrorist or lunatic—”
He was interrupted by another announcement over the loudspeakers. “Abandon ship. Abandon ship. This is not a drill. All hands to your emergency stations and prepare for evacuation. Repeat, this is not a drill.”
“Sounds like you won’t have any pilots to fly those planes, nor men to fire your missiles in the next five minutes,” said Mike.
“I can wait five minutes before sinking you,” I said with a smile. “As long as no jets approach and no missiles fire, you’ll have time to evacuate.”
“Saint Luna is gracious in victory,” intoned Mike. He was laying it on thick. “Preserving human life is her primary goal.”
“I can launch from here on the bridge,” said the admiral. “I don’t need any of these traitors.”
General Marcus and the CIA demon looked on approvingly. Were they mentally pushing the admiral to continue his mad attack?
“Contact missile control,” said the admiral.
Lycan Legacy - 4 - 5 - 6: Princess - Progeny - Paladin: Book 4 - 5 - 6 in the Lycan Legacy Series Page 77