by T. G. Ayer
The elevator dinged open and the two girls and the hellhound entered.
Joss snorted as she stabbed the floor for the armory. “It’s not as if you’ve never given them a reason to make fun of you, Maya. I think it’s reactionary on their part anyway.”
“You making excuses for them now?” The elevator doors slid shut as Maya narrowed her eyes at her best friend.
“Well. For one, you’re the bosses’ daughter.” Joss raised one finger, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“And for two?”
“For two,” Joss raised a second finger, “it’s not often they get to see an agent burn off her clothing, then stand there stark naked. I’m not sure which part was more shocking; you bursting into flames, or you giving them a full-on striptease.”
“Shut up, Joss,” Maya growled. She still hadn’t gotten over the embarrassment of the whole episode, but she had begun to suspect the regular teasing from the team was a means to make things less uncomfortable. Most of the agents were good-natured enough and Maya wasn’t threatened by the fun.
The elevator doors opened, and Maya and Joss exited, made a right and strode down a wide corridor toward the tactical dressing stations.
“Hey, you asked what was for two.” Joss raised her hands in defense. “Besides, I know for a fact most of them averted their eyes.”
“Uh-huh, a group of men and women averting their eyes when confronted with unexpected nudity? Of course,” Maya replied, her tone dry.
“Well, I suppose they averted their eyes after getting a first peek. They get points for that in my book. And as for the coats? You had three offered to you so fast a girl would have missed it if she blinked.”
“Like you helped. So much for being a friend.”
“Seriously, Maya? I was way too far away.” Joss eyed Maya before the pair entered the room and hurried over to the issuing desk.
Neither girl spoke as Cori, the agent who manned the tactical-gear allocations-desk, nodded at them, clearly prepared for their arrival. She slid two keys across the counter, one to each of them. “Gear’s ready. Suit up. You two move out in T-minus fifteen.”
Without a word, Joss and Maya grabbed their keys and scurried off down the hall to their lockers. Inside, they found their gear, everything from clothing to weapons to weird and wonderful magical gadgetry.
They dressed swiftly and, just as they were sticking their earpieces into their ears while shutting their lockers, their mission launch announcement came up on their comms.
“B-Team, Squad 2, be ready to move out in two minutes. I’ll be your comms watch for this mission, ladies. Have a good one.”
“Thanks, Claude,” both girls replied in unison, though Maya didn’t miss the pointed look her BFF sent her.
Joss had most definitely caught the edge to Maya’s voice. Which made her pray that the channel interference would have garbled the grittiness in her tone. She didn’t need to complicate things by giving Claude any sign of her internal struggles.
As far as her aunt knew, the Rao’s were back to normal with her. Though Maya had to remind herself the truth often had a way of coming out.
It was usually only a matter of time.
Chapter 4
Maya tried and failed to shake the sodden strands of her hair out of her face, then sent a dark glare toward Mirov who was currently hunkered down a few feet away in the shadows behind a line of battered—and decidedly odorific—trashcans, soaked to the skin from the slow, steady rain which hadn’t let up since they’d arrived.
Crouching in the midnight shadows, steeped in the aroma of week-old rot, Maya was in no mood to drape calm over herself as she'd been taught. Reiki or not, nothing would help her nerves, not now when danger lay just across the street from her and her team.
This was no time for calm.
Sabala sat beside her, as still as a black marble statue, liquid obsidian eyes traveling the street and scanning Maya and the team intermittently.
Maya wasn’t complaining—Sabala had come in handy on numerous occasions, especially with his demon-detecting senses always at the ready to support her own newfound skills. And right now, both their senses were twanging.
The hellhound’s ears stood on end, his lips raised on a silent growl which could only mean he’d sensed magical activity across the street. At least they weren’t here on a wild goose chase, though all Maya wanted to do was get in, complete the recon and get home.
A few feet away on Maya’s right, Joss was shifting from one foot to the other, transferring the strain from one of her thigh muscles to the other before flexing her foot to get the blood flowing again. Maya had performed the very same exercise half a dozen times in the twenty minutes since they'd arrived and submerged themselves in shadows across the street from Dolly's Toys & Games.
A thick darkness blanketed the front of the toyshop, though the packed interior was dimly lit every few minutes; the revolving light cast by a toy lighthouse perched on a back wall had obliged the team by intermittently throwing a dull glow upon the rows of shelves stuffed with toys. Although meagre, the little lighthouse beacon provided the team with a view of the shop, confirming the storefront was clear of all demonic activity.
The basement was another story altogether.
The team had dressed in full tactical gear, black sweaters, cargo pants, army-boots and beanies—which Maya had refused to use, thus the rain-soaked hair. And, though they were also somewhat protected by their thin bullet-and magic-proof vests, and had come kitted out with full weaponry, this whole thing was just a dress rehearsal.
The sudden mission was supposed to have been a training exercise, just a run-of-the-mill practice session to see how well both girls performed in the field; testing Joss's response times—which in Maya's opinion were perfect as the girl was a freaking natural—and also monitoring how much control Maya had over her fire after weeks of practicing.
As yet, they hadn’t had the chance to find out.
The girls and Mirov had approached the designated address where the kids were suspected of an attempt to summon a low-level rakshasa demon, and since Maya had been on a mission just like this one not too long ago, she hadn’t had so much as a palpitation at the thought of recon.
Seriously, she’d fought off a furious churel and had saved her dad from having his life sucked out of him by the volatile she-demon. Not to mention, she’d worked on her demon-detecting ability and honed it so well that she no longer needed a taste of her prey’s blood to be able to track it.
She’d fine-tuned her senses to confirm a demon was in the vicinity simply by using her mind, in conjunction with her knowledge of what demon blood smelled, tasted and felt like. Not so long she’d have though the very ability was gross.
She’d long since moved past that.
So, when Maya and Joss had completed the perimeter check on the small corner shop, Maya been a little too blasé about things going easy. She'd learned much of the nuances of her fire power, of which Mother Kali would likely be proud--though the goddess hadn't yet dropped by to say so. Maya had also learned to control her uncoordinated limbs better to engage in hand-to-hand combat and survive.
She could knock out a demon at fifty paces using her madus and her dagger—not that her latest practice session with her mom could prove it. Still, when her mind was focused, she was a weapon unto herself, so these mission exercises were only meant to upgrade her combat skills and defenses, in the process priming her for fieldwork.
But, when the perimeter-check had confirmed that yes, there had been magical activity going on inside the toyshop, with the basement the more accurate location, what they hadn’t expected was to find said demonic activity still in progress—confirmed by the state-of-the-art magical dowsing-contraption she’d been assigned. The device had emitted a low beeping in their comms, and the closer Maya had moved to the basement, the more the alarm sped up.
Now she threw a glare at a motionless Mirov, whose expression was slightly glazed over for a long mome
nt as he listened to someone on his comms—a secure line that neither Maya nor Joss had access to. After a few sober bobs of his head, his jaw tightened, eyes now focused and narrowed.
A training exercise?
This was no training exercise. Not by a long shot.
Mirov had given Maya and Joss no indication that this was the real thing. From what he’d said, they were merely checking out the location. Was someone deliberately trying to mess with their pseudo-mission? Have them all caught off-guard without the proper backup and ensure training-mission failure?
Maya still watched Mirov, and from the guarded look in his eyes, the taut non-expression on his dark face, she had to pause in her judgement. He looked just as surprised as she was. Which translated to not at all good.
Blind leading the blind was neither comforting nor was it motivating by any stretch of the imagination.
Chapter 5
With her patience finally running out, Maya did a side-shuffle, moving a few paces close to her supervisor like a wobbly, sodden, two-limbed crab. “Claude?” Maya grunted her aunt’s name into her comms.
“Yes, Maya,” Claudia replied.
Mirov threw Maya a glance that said he was listening in on her conversation with Control. Then his attention focused on the shop as though he could see into the basement—well, if you counted the ground-penetrating-radar device in his hand, he certainly could.
“Where exactly did you guys get your intel?” Maya still gripped the magic-finder, aware it broadcasted the low alarm, a constant reminder that whatever magical activity going on inside the basement hadn't yet come to an end. She’d be happy as long as the pace of the beeping didn't increase to reflect heightened power levels.
Mirov flicked a few buttons on the screen of his GPR device as Claudia replied, “Why?” The tiny hitch in her voice had Maya on alert.
She watched Mirov closer now, and she didn't buy her supervisor’s fake calm. He wasn’t prone to skittishness, but she’d spent enough time with him to have learned his tells. The way he flicked the top of the screen with his forefinger, as though he were dusting lint off from the edge of the device, was sufficient confirmation.
Maya contained the urge to smirk and roll her eyes because…adulting and agent professionalism, of course. Her own tone calm, she said, “Because I don’t think you guys vetted your intel properly. Thought your team was big on due diligence, especially with these cases being in the news so many times this month.”
Okay, so maybe outright criticism wasn't all that professional, but Maya did have a right to know. So did Joss. And Mirov, if he wasn’t in on it as well.
Worst-case-scenario is also a form of mission prep.
“Maya…what exactly is your issue?” Claudia asked as though she hadn't heard a word Maya had said.
Was the woman distracted or being deliberately obtuse? Why had she been given the comms control role in the first place if she wasn’t able to vet the intel before passing it to the team on the ground?
Maya scowled and took a deep breath, ignoring the narrowing of Mirov’s eyes as he recognized her impatience. Then she replied, “This was supposed to be a ‘suspected’ summoning,” She drew air-quotes around the word suspected and ignored Mirov’s shake of the head as she continued, “not a real one. And there was no mention of actual demonic activity. That’s inaccurate intel IMHO.”
Mirov didn’t appear to want Maya to interrogate Claude, which made her now suspicious of him too.
Claudia cleared her throat, the sound crackling in Maya’s earpiece. “IMHO?”
“In my honest opinion,” Maya replied, finally losing control and rolling her eyes.
Where had Claude been spending the last few years of her life that she’d missed out on learning the meaning of such a simple acronym? The woman wasn't old either.
Maya flicked her sodden bangs out of her eyes again and glared at Mirov, annoyed that he wasn’t backing her up. “What I’m trying to say is, had I known there was actual demon activity, I would not have come.”
There, the truth was out.
And Claude was going to make the assumption that Maya was a coward—which was the furthest from the truth she'd ever get.
Claudia let out a low sigh, the rush of air throwing static on the comms, reminding Maya that their conversation had not been a private one. Dang it.
She should’ve thought of that before she’d kept interrogating her aunt. She was pretty certain disrespecting a superior agent was against the rules or something.
“Maya, it’s not as though you haven’t fought demons before," Claudia said with a chuckle, probably also wanting to downplay what the team could interpret as Maya questioning an order. It worked too, as Maya could have sworn she heard someone snicker when Claude said, "So why the second-guessing this time?”
Double dang.
“No reason. Let’s just hope we get out alive so we can figure out why our intel was wrong.” Maya flicked off the open line and gritted her teeth. Claudia's question had hit her with the awful truth: she'd admitted her hesitation to the entire team, including anyone listening in at HQ.
Anyone like her parents maybe?
Maya shrugged. She had her trusty weapons, each attached to her belt, and she had a souped-up revolver, one her mother had explained was for close-range, no-other-choice situations.
Maya had her fire, along with everything that particular god-given—literally—power entailed, which translated to dangerous and devastating if she didn't know how to control it in every possible situation. She wasn't blind to the logic of these missions. But the ones Claudia referred to, were missions where Maya had been accompanied by someone she trusted.
And one or two of them with a Claudia she had once trusted.
But back then—if a few months ago could be referred to as back then— Maya wasn’t plagued by doubt where Claudia was concerned.
She should just get on with doing what she’d asked to be allowed to do—to fight in the field rather than live in the jungle and oversee everything. Living in the jungle was now Ria’s thing, and overseeing? Well, she wasn’t so sure…maybe such a role lay securely in the hands of her mother and father.
Maya and Joss had begun training with the Special Forces B-team, apparently still one of the best, but a squad responsible more tech-support and backup than frontline fisticuffs.
Was their lack of field experience making Maya a little less secure? Was she questioning everything because the team she trained with weren’t the A Team but rather a bunch of agents who needed their own training in order to keep up with the main tactical unit?
Maya shook the thoughts away and focused on glaring at Mirov who was currently shaking his head. Then he widened his eyes and cocked his chin pointedly at the darkened store, clear instructions to pay attention.
She didn’t want to obey but she had little choice. His pinched expression and shadowed eyes gave her zero idea of what he was thinking, though the set of his shoulders made it clear he didn’t want to be there.
Well, at least Maya was in good company.
Chapter 6
Maya was thankful to be out of the rain but being cramped inside the communications van with two other warm bodies, all wet to the bone and stinking of fetid garbage wasn’t making her really feel the gratitude.
Why HQ had decided to send over the comms truck she wasn’t sure, but they’d had it driven to the team mere seconds after Agent Mirov’s GPR device had confirmed the existence of eight living forms within the basement.
One signal though, had appeared more blue than red, clear indication its owner hovered dangerously close to death. Which meant the team had to move. And fast.
And they did.
The comms truck had settled into a spot around the corner from the toyshop and safely beyond the view of the large front window. They were far enough away not to draw attention to themselves, and near enough to a streetlamp in case a cop appeared and the team had to pretend to be actual communications technicians.
> Maya and Joss were leaning against a narrow shelf fitted along one side of the back of the van, waiting as Claudia—whose face was currently displayed on the monitor across from the girls and Mirov—came to a final decision on the next move.
Joss sat motionless, while Maya fidgeted, trying to comb her soggy locks back from her face. Failing, she resorted to tucking them behind her ears, which made little difference as they simply slipped out and returned to form a line of spiraling wet strands that hung over her forehead like a row of rat’s tails.
But, despite the horrifically unattractive state of her hair, she wasn’t about to admit forgoing the use of her beanie was a mistake. She hated the way the knitted hat hugged her head and made her feel claustrophobic. So, every now and again as she moved, Maya cascaded drops of water everywhere from her wet hair.
She was about to give her stupid bangs another go, but then admitted defeat and tucked her fingers into her pockets. She let out an annoyed breath, and just as luck would have it, Claudia chose that moment to look up from the screen.
She frowned at Maya, the look both contemplative and disapproving. “We don’t have eyes on the target. Neither do we have the ability to teleport into the basement. Which leaves us with Fido.”
Maya almost laughed. They were going to send in a dog? But, despite the amusement that threatened to burst forth, she kept a straight face and waited for Claudia to clarify.
Claudia tilted her head and studied Maya’s expression for a moment, disappointment etched within her eyes. Then she glanced at Joss. “She didn’t bite….”
“I told you she wouldn’t,” Joss replied, her tone even as she tucked her thumbs into the front sleeve openings of her vest. She looked badass, like a golden-haired valkyrie, ready to kick butt.
Maya raised a finger into the air, her ears going a little hot. “What’s going on?” These girls were up to something, though why Joss would be in cahoots with Claudia for anything was a mystery to Maya.