Arm Webberly relaxed, masterfully still ignoring the icy rain running down her face and into her clothes. The water at her feet ran pink with blood. “Despite the change in her metapresence, the only one who matters among the group is Arm Bass. With her is an Arm taken from the authorities by Focus Patterson and her faction, and trained by Focus Patterson in her compound. Also with her is a Crow we believe is Crow Echo, but beyond the use of the ‘metapresence echo’ trick we have no real proof of this.”
The tall Crow smiled a thin and nasty smile, and cracked his knuckles. His cowboy hat seemed to completely protect him from the sleet, and he wasn’t wet at all. “By your enemies you prove your worthiness,” he said. Del felt a caress of snakes in her metasense, an immense moving of the juice in a metasense area beyond her understanding. Senior Crow tricks involving dross, she suspected. She wished she had more experience in this, anything more than Ma’am Keaton’s literature about senior Crows, who were supposedly fearless…and for good reason. She didn’t trust the former, as both these senior Crows leaked fear like a wet sponge, but she suspected the latter was an understatement. “Arm Webberly, is it possible you could lure your opponents closer? When you pulled into the rest stop, they pulled over to the side of the road a mile back, where they now wait.”
Now Arm Webberly smiled. “You’re volunteering to smite them?”
“Crow Echo and I need to have words,” Guru Arpeggio said, implying far more than words. “About many things. Arm Bass I would present to the Commander as a gift. Unfortunately, to do so, you would need to lure them in, to within a hundred yards.”
“I can try, Guru Arpeggio,” Arm Webberly said. “It shouldn’t be too hard to make my group appear to be falling apart due to lack of juice. I fear Arm Bass is too canny to fall for such a trick, though. I can guarantee that if you can chase them away and get them off our tail, you will have given the Commander a gift nearly as large.”
Guru Arpeggio turned to Guru Snow. “Will this satisfy you?”
“Oh, quite,” Guru Snow said in his deep voice. “Arm Webberly, you recall that I am of a far more delicate nature than most, and I find combat and fracases most distressing. Would you mind overly much if I spent some time conversing with your most interesting Student Arm? I promise I will return her to you unharmed at the end of this contretemps.”
Del hid her instinctive wince. Guru Snow believed Guru Arpeggio would easily defeat Arm Bass and her crew, which Del thought arrogant. This she couldn’t let sit.
“Sirs, Ma’am, other Major Transforms, a moment,” Del said. Uh huh, the frowns, or what she took as a frown from the blizzard protection around Guru Snow, which got fiercer. Arm Webberly motioned for her to speak, likely against her better judgment. “Guru Crows, you need to know that Arm Bass surpasses all the Arms I am familiar with as far as holding a grudge is concerned. She is most irrational on the subject, to the point of carrying out payment on grudges to her own detriment. It would be remiss of us not to warn you of this, as you are volunteering to help us.”
“We know of the danger, little one,” Guru Arpeggio said, and not with a grin. “I am much the same way, myself.”
“Take her, Guru Snow. Please,” Arm Webberly said. She said nothing about returning Del afterwards.
Del wasn’t sure about this, but did walk off with Guru Snow, to behind the reeking outhouse, as Guru Arpeggio and Arm Webberly walked back to the military surplus truck and concocted their scheme. Del’s wet hair stuck to her face, and her clothes were now wet through. At least the wet had loosened the spots where the blood had cemented the fabric to her wounds. The water running off her ran pink as well. “I’ve never met a Crow Guru before, Guru Snow. What do I need to know about Crow Gurus, so as not to embarrass myself and the Arm community by my actions?”
Crow Guru Snow laughed. “Need to know? Well, how about the fact that when you wake up, you won’t remember a word of our conversation.”
Crap.
“…then all of a sudden someone inside the station wagon grabbed at the wheel and Bass’s car spun out. On the Interstate! Two semis skidded out of the way, and one tipped over, sliding to a stop blocking the rest stop entrance. Guru Arpeggio said the wheel-grabber was Crow Echo; it didn’t take much for Arm Bass to change her mind about tailing us, because the station wagon made a U-turn on the eastbound lanes and drove west, against traffic, for almost a quarter mile before crossing over at one of the gravel official-use-only turnarounds and continuing to the west, this time with the flow of traffic.
“Crow Guru Arpeggio wasn’t satisfied with simply chasing Arm Bass and her entourage away. Annoyed that his ‘low juice insanity’ metasense illusion didn’t work, and hadn’t lured Arm Bass and crew to within a hundred yards, he let loose a song of power, an immense use of hidden Crow strength none of us expected from any Crow. It was as if the notes of the song had physical presence, and they took wing toward Arm Bass’s station wagon, an angry swarm of noise-hornets aimed at Bass’s treacherous heart. Because of his long-distance attack, Arm Bass’s predatory ‘part the incoming cars the way Moses parted the Red Sea’ trick failed, and she barely avoided a head-on with a car-carrying semi. Even after crossing to the westbound lanes she still showed the afflictions of the Crow Guru, and she wove from lane to lane as she headed off into the night.”
Del sighed and shook her head. She had given up on her wet clothes and now wore only a rough army surplus blanket. Her wet hair still stuck to her scalp. “The original U-turn sentence is far too run on and detracts from the story. It’s better, though.”
Arm Duval nodded, thought for a moment, and started over.
A group of Arms got to watch a Crow Guru strut his stuff and chase off Arm Bass, and Del hadn’t witnessed an instant of the fight. At least they were safe, now, on their way to the Commander and to the safety of absurdly large numbers. And a war against Focus Patterson, it appeared.
In the back of Del’s mind some unwanted thoughts gathered to bother her equilibrium: “You’re part of the Commander’s Arm organization now. Get used to this sort of insanity, as it’s what they do all the time.” Worse, Arm Webberly’s ‘feel your fear’ order still held, and Del couldn’t bury the terror of her realization deep in her quiet pools, where it belonged.
Carol Hancock: December 21, 1972
“Boss?” Webberly said.
“You okay?” I stood in a phone booth in one of the oversized rest stops on the Ohio Turnpike, on my way to the Adirondacks camp. Checking in, hoping against hope Webberly would call in to my people back in Chicago. I had already talked to Tonya and gotten the word on Polly’s acceptance of my invitation, talked to Focus Gerry Caruthers about renting us the transports we would need to get to Pittsburgh and about the other issues of food, water, shelter and juice for the Adirondacks camp, and I talked to Linda Cooley about what to do if the Hunters (or Bass) attacked Chicago while I was away. Then I heard the word that Webberly had survived and remained free.
“Yes, overall, but we’ve had what the Hero would call an adventure.”
The stars faded in the east and I ignored the cold as Rose told me about grabbing Keaton’s students, the fight with Bass, the chase, and the conclusion of the ‘adventure’ when the in-afterthought-almost-predictable aid from Guru Arpeggio appeared. The lack of fatalities pleased me to no end, and I managed to hold in my anger over the casualties. I had been counting on Giselle for the Patterson fight, and with her down an arm and a leg, the Patterson fight was no place for her. Still, Bass’s confession of her treachery was priceless; with her confession, I wouldn’t have any problems retaining the loyalty of the rest of the Arms. It also gave me a bunch more motivation to take down Bass before she made the inevitable challenge for the Arm boss position. I absolutely had to keep her from gathering a power base, which meant holding all the Arms close to me, and preventing her from helping Patterson. My best strategy was still to hit Patterson fast.
“I promised Guru Arpeggio that if he saved us from Bass, by chasing her
off, you would consider his work a great gift. He wouldn’t say what he did to need such a gift, though, and I don’t trust what a particularly annoying student Arm told me about what was going on.”
“He was one of the Gurus who cast out Crow Sinclair,” I said. “I take it he’s had a change of heart?”
“Yes, ma’am. He’s agreed to neutrality in some Crow duel that’s coming up.”
“I’ll explain later. Anything else?” Given the amount of effort Gilgamesh and I had invested in winning Arpeggio over to the good guys, he needed more restitution than this. Listening to Chevalier about anything was boneheaded on his part.
“He said he’s not going to help us against Focus Patterson, but he is pledging to at least provide distant support against the Hunters, and, um, personal help against Bass and Crow Echo, whenever needed.”
“I’m not surprised at the latter,” I said. “Any other problems?”
“The Focus I was supposed to pick up wasn’t there, and the Arms at Keaton’s place didn’t know what happened to her.”
“Naylor got her and gave her to me as a gift,” I said. “She had some cockamamie reason for stealing the Focus from Keaton’s lair, something to do with not wanting to end up as a flunky of a Student Arm. Morris is with me here, she’s helping me care for Focus Elspeth and I’m helping her by trying to put her mind back together. She had a rough time of it with Keaton.”
“I can imagine.” Pause. “Hey, boss, there’s a student Arm here you’ve just got to meet, the formerly insane one. Dolores Sokolnik. She figured out what was going on all on her own, and grabbed the tags of all the other student Arms, and Arm Kent, supposedly left there to guard the student Arms. And Merry Bartlett, who she tricked into coming back to admit failure. She’s the student Arm Naylor was avoiding.”
I winced. Sokolnik did sound like a trip and a half. “All right. Bring me this Sokolnik in person, along with Kent and Bartlett. Put the fear of God into the rest of Keaton’s students, pack them up and take control of them. They’re yours for now.”
“Will do, boss.”
A Rigidly Organized Array of Miscellaneous Parts
Michelle Claunch – Focus #12 – December 1956. Focus Michelle Claunch, as with Focus Schrum and Focus Fingleman, believes in close cooperation between the Transform community and the non-Transforms in business and government. In 1961, Michelle (as she prefers to be called) formed the Focus Network, a semi-public organization of non-Transforms who exist to help the Transform community, and to receive help from the Transform community – and maintain open communications among all Focuses. “Only by working together with those outside the Transform community can the Transform community prosper,” she says. Michelle was a well-known celebrity Focus from 1964 through 1967, appearing on many talk shows, having bit parts in two Hollywood movies and a television variety show, until her star was tarnished in the Arm Flap and she was forced out of the limelight.
“Lives of the Focuses”
Tonya Biggioni: December 23, 1972
“Who are you and how many?” The Noble poked his head in the window of the bus and gave them the eye. He was a vaguely leonine Noble, with a beautiful gold mane all the way around his head that missed being human hair by several branches of the evolutionary tree. Besides this guard at the entry station, Tonya could sense several Monsters hiding in the brush, which gave her pause and the need to control her own baser instincts. If this guard didn’t approve of them, they wouldn’t be going any farther.
“Focus Biggioni’s household,” Danny said from the driver’s seat.
The Noble checked the list on his clipboard. “What personnel? By type.”
“One Focus, thirteen Transforms, and six normals.”
Sir Lion nodded. “Follow the road and check in at the welcome station in the Lodge. They’ll tell you where to set up camp. You’ll need an equipment review, and all personnel including normals need to register their skills with Ila Abbott. Combatants need to report to Tom Delacort for evaluation. Is the Focus staying in the Lodge or will she be camping with the household?”
Tonya leaned forward. “Are there telephones at the Lodge?”
Sir Lion nodded. “All the Lodge rooms have telephones.”
“The Lodge,” Tonya said, and Sir Lion waved them through.
Tonya needed phone service. They had been on the bus from Philadelphia for hours, out of contact, and heaven only knew what had blown up in those few hours. Tonya would have given a lot to skip this entire attack on Patterson. She didn’t have time for this. News of the fall of the first Focuses got out to the Focuses eight hours ago, and the Focus community was piling up some mighty big phone bills today.
The Council was a powerless hollow shell without the support of the first Focuses. They were at best an unelected tool of the Firsts, and the Focuses saw no need to tolerate the Council anymore. The most troubling was the ongoing wave of defections to the ISF (the International Sisterhood of Focuses) in the Midwest. Joining the Canadian ISF Focuses at least made logical sense. The most annoying were the two groups of Focuses who wanted to set up a new organization, and not to anyone’s surprise they each thought they should be at the top. The most hilarious was the small group of South Region Focuses who wanted the Focus community to set up a tribunal and punish all the Council Focuses for the misdeeds of the Council…starting with the Council members from the South Region.
Tonya wanted to bang all these Focuses over the head with a cast iron skillet and tell them to start thinking. The Focuses couldn’t afford to fracture into a dozen competing factions. The predators were out hunting, ready to pounce on any Focuses easily cut out of the pack. The Council was the Focuses’ only structure and source of stability, and the Focuses couldn’t afford to lose it.
Tonya’s message wasn’t hopeless. The Focuses hadn’t fallen into anarchy yet, but only because of Tonya’s efforts and those of Polly, Connie, Jill and Lori and a dozen other loyal Focuses, and their promises of new and fair elections.
Tonya needed that phone.
Tonya first saw the camp as the bus rounded a turn mid-way down a tall hill and felt a rush of excitement in spite of herself.
Ever since she learned Polly’s juice buffer access trick, she felt like a teenager again. A particularly mindless teenager, at that. Everything was exciting, and she was constantly overflowing with energy and what seemed like inspiration and probably wasn’t.
If only she hadn’t been too busy to do something about her needs. Outside of her household. Her household wouldn’t fall apart if she went out on dates. Of course, she would need to study up on dating etiquette when accompanied by bodyguards…
Frigidity had been convenient, but that was gone. Now? She couldn’t even think of a man without wondering what he would be like in bed.
Tonya forcefully yanked her mind out of the gutter and turned her attention to the camp. She didn’t have time for distractions.
The camp spread out below them in a sheltered valley, far from normal human contact. The only road was the narrow dirt road they came in on, and Tonya didn’t see a house anywhere.
The camp itself was a rigidly organized array of miscellaneous parts. About half of the tents appeared to be army surplus and the rest were probably out of various garages and scout camping trips, all arranged in ruler-straight neat lines. Several Focus households of the gypsy variety were here, in the usual confabulation of campers, motor homes and converted school buses. There were well over a hundred people, probably a lot more, and Tonya saw normals and Transforms all over, all bustling about with an air of intense urgency. There were enough of the Monster commoners to make her nervous. She hated the Monsters, going all the way back to the time when her household did Monster hunting, and she had buried far too many of her Transforms after the Monsters inevitably took a few down. She hated seeing them as protected members of the Noble households.
That wasn’t all. A group of people practiced weaponry at a newly set up rifle range. Another group had a hand-to-h
and combat ring set up, going to with excessive vigor. There was another group halfway up the hill practicing movement. A chow line fed a stream of people, and more people moved supplies busily from one place to another.
The Lodge crouched a bit farther up the hill, an old vacationers’ hotel, appropriately rustic, with exposed rough boards and a beautiful view. Danny dropped Tonya off with a set of four bodyguards, and took the rest of the household to report in and set up tents.
“Tonya.” The voice came from the entry to the lodge. Shadow, just coming out the door.
She smiled to see him. He was about her height, with beautiful dark hair and wise, thoughtful eyes. A beautiful juice structure, when he didn’t keep it hidden. Far more complex than that of a Transform.
She wondered if he was good in bed.
No, this was ridiculous, she told herself. She hated this loss of control over her own body. Hormone surges, at her age. She should be going through menopause, not puberty. The teenage sex drive was enough to make her wish for the ordinary misery of a low juice count. At least she knew how to deal with frigidity.
“Shadow. Are you the official greeter around here?”
“Only for the important guests,” he said. His voice was a pleasant low tenor with rich undertones. It rubbed like a fuzzy cloth along her skin. “Come in. I’ll help you settle in.”
So they all marched into the Lodge, and Tonya couldn’t help but note that somehow the one person she was least likely to be able to manipulate was the one to greet her. Carol’s doing, most likely. Tonya didn’t consider this a sign of trust.
“Who else is here?” Tonya said, as Shadow walked her up to her room.
“The Arms are here, except for the Commander, and they’re all buzzing around like angry hornets. Most of the Nobles made it in last night. Several Crows, too.”
The Forgefires of God (The Cause Book 3) Page 24