Starlight (The Dark Elf War Book 1)

by William Stacey

  Helena’s face went scarlet. “That’s a vast oversimplification of the control demonstrated by the test subjects. Ms. Chambers, for example, can manipulate much heavier—”

  McKnight raised his hand, cutting her off. “Doctor, please. No one means any disrespect to you or your staff’s efforts.” He frowned at Buck. “Major, you may have the best hammer in the world, but not every problem is a nail.”

  Buck sat rigid, his eyes narrowed in anger, but he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  McKnight sighed and shook his head. Alex glanced at the television screen showing out-of-focus camera footage of the basilisk climbing out of the wall of the hospital.

  “People,” said McKnight, “we have nothing. Nothing. We were on top of this, and overnight, everything turned upside down on us. People in Washington and Ottawa are asking questions. They’ve made the connection between the monster and us. If we don’t fix this, and right goddamned now, the people in power are going to step in and fix it for us. And that means they’re going to fix it to us. I guarantee none of you want to see that happen. You will not be happy.”

  “Yes, sir,” both men answered. Helena nodded her head like a bird.

  “There are monsters out there,” McKnight continued. “Somehow, they’ve followed us back from Rubicon, and they’ve brought magic with them, or at least a power source we can’t see or measure. We need to find these things, stop them, and make sure they don’t manage to come across again. And we need to figure out this energy source, find a way to tap into it ourselves.”

  Alex leaned forward. “We’re going to need bigger weapons, sir. High-caliber weapons. Pistol fire was ineffective against the basilisk.”

  McKnight paused. “I have plans for the basilisk, Captain. Something other than destroying it, something that may yet save our collective asses with the people in power. But first we need to find it.” He turned to face Buck. “Major, any success with finding a local tracker?”

  “Done, sir,” said Buck. “I got an Indian. He’s supposed to be shit hot.”

  “I think they prefer First Nations citizen,” said McKnight.

  “Yes, sir, a First Nations citizen—one of the Beaver people.” Buck grinned, exposing his two front teeth in what he must have imagined passed for a beaver’s face.

  Alex stared in disbelief. How did this guy become a major?

  When no one laughed, the smile disappeared from Buck’s face. “He’s in the barracks now. He’s ready to go when we are. Says he can track anything around here.”

  “We’re not tracking anything from around here,” said Alex.

  Buck glared at him, but McKnight raised a hand to forestall any further comment. “Good work, Major, but watch him closely as well. Make sure he doesn’t see anything from Operation Rubicon.”

  “Yes, sir,” answered Buck. “I have one of the men keeping an eye on him.”

  McKnight nodded. “Make sure we have at least two assault teams ready to move. When the mag-sens are ready, I want at least one with each team.”

  Alex opened his mouth but then closed it again. McKnight stared at him. “What, Captain? Speak up.”

  “Sir,” said Alex. “Shouldn’t we wait? They might get killed.”

  “They might get us killed,” said Buck.

  “Helena’s people will work with them,” McKnight said. “If they can tap into this… magic… mana… whatever, then maybe they can act as a form of proximity alarm whenever we’re near these creatures.”

  Helena leaned forward. “It’s possible. They are sensitive to mana and can usually ascertain whenever another subject is using this energy. So far, Ms. Chambers has consistently been able to demonstrate knowledge of whenever Mr. Hocking has… channeled. They use that term amongst themselves: channeling. At any rate, not only has she been able to sense when he’s channeling, she’s also been surprisingly accurate estimating where he is, often within two or three meters.”

  McKnight locked eyes with Buck, then Alex. “Might be useful having a human Geiger counter—don’t you think, gentlemen?”

  Geiger counter or mine canary?

  “They could provide a tactical advantage,” said Helena.

  Buck snorted. “If they stay the hell out of the way once the shooting starts.”

  “Keep them out of the way, Major. These people are unique, the very first humans who have demonstrated the ability to draw upon and manipulate a previously unknown power source.”

  “Unless we have had earlier interaction with the inhabitants of Rubicon,” Dr. Simmons interjected. “Perhaps it has happened before during the early history of humanity, maybe hundreds—if not thousands—of years ago. Think about it. All the legends of wizards, witches, tribal sorcerers, magical creatures. There may be an element of truth to these legends if humanity has been exposed to mana before.”

  “Lot of ‘ifs’ flying around this room,” Buck said.

  “Indeed, Major,” said McKnight, “but that’s all we have right now: theories.”

  The room was silent. Outside, in the wilderness surrounding the Site C Dam Complex, a loon cried out, its haunting call echoing across the forest. McKnight was right: overnight, everything they had known had changed. An ambush in Rubicon had somehow resulted in creatures of myth and legend running loose on Earth. Somewhere out there, perhaps very close, a giant lizard that could turn people to stone and a pack of fire-breathing wolves prowled the wilderness. Innocent people had died and were going to keep dying until Task Force Devil found them. The world had truly taken a bizarre turn.

  And apparently, magic was now a real thing.

  Chapter 19

  Cassie was sitting in a chair by the window in her wardroom when someone knocked on the door. The army medical staff would have knocked and then come right in, but whoever was out there was still waiting. She stared at the door, knowing she should say something but just not having the energy to move or speak. It wasn’t as if she were doing anything. She was just sitting and thinking with the sunlight on her face.

  She didn’t want to sleep anymore. Sleep brought nightmares.

  “What?” she finally called out, aware her voice sounded strained.

  The door opened. It was Alex, Captain Benoit of the Canadian Army. When he looked at her, she recognized a flash of something in his eyes, pity perhaps. “Sorry to bother you,” he said. “Colonel McKnight thought you might want to get out of this room.”

  “And do what?” she asked, not really caring.

  He held a battered old army duffel bag in one hand, which he placed on the floor beside him. “We put together some clothing for you. It’s not much, but it’s more than a hospital gown. Uniforms and gym gear mostly.”

  Her eyes dropped to the duffel bag, and she stared at it for several moments.

  “Cassie…” He watched her, clearly not certain what else to say.

  “What?” she said, still staring at the dark-green duffel bag.

  “You can’t stay in this room forever. I’ll wait outside in the hallway while you get dressed, and then I’ll show you around.”

  “Show me around? What’s around?”

  “Well… for the next little while, home. At least, our home.”

  She choked back a laugh. “Home?”

  “I’ll be outside the door while you get dressed.” He closed the door, leaving the duffel bag on the floor.

  She watched it for several moments and then pushed herself off the chair. Why not? It’s not like I’m doing anything else.

  She rifled through the bag, finding gray sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a blue hoodie. There was a pair of used gym shoes, as well, which she was surprised to find were her size. Had they guessed correctly or measured her when she was passed out? She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.

  Dressed, she stood in front of the door. I can’t stay here, hiding in a hospital room. Alice would want me to keep rolling. Cassie reached for the door handle.

  * * *

  Cassie hadn’t intended to be impressed by the Site C Dam;
in fact, she wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the complex was something to see after all. Her father would have loved this place, but he had been an engineer. The dam itself was a massive earth-filled concrete structure spanning the Peace River. God only knew what kind of long-term environmental damage it was doing, but it was impressive as hell. Alex led her along the south bank of the river, past the Spillway. From there, he pointed out the huge generating station. The reservoir spread out on the other side of the dam, looking more like a lake than a river. She couldn’t help but think about the lands they had flooded when the dam went up, all the wildlife killed or displaced in the name of electricity. All of the site’s buildings were located on the south bank of the Peace River. The north bank was dominated by a large cliff, which met the concrete wall of the dam. A single access road ran parallel along the cliff, crisscrossing its way up to the top. Another of those bizarre-looking tanklike vehicles moved along the access road. Most of the land around the south bank had been cleared of brush and was now covered with loose gravel. Alex told her most of it would eventually be paved. As they walked, he pointed out the perimeter fence, a ten-foot-high, razor-wire-topped barrier surrounding the site.

  He took her around to some of the site buildings: the large cafeteria—which must have seated a hundred or more people—an impressive-looking gymnasium, numerous warehouses, and a massive hangar, which Alex claimed housed the site’s vehicles and aircraft. They also passed several dormitory buildings. One of them Alex pointed out as the barracks she would be moving into later that day. Finally, he brought her by a small redbrick building that Alex said was an all-ranks bar. A paper taped to the glass of the door displayed a cartoon demon with a pitchfork chasing a dragon. It would have been much funnier had that dragon not killed her sister. As they stood in front of the glass door, another one of the ugly boat-shaped armored vehicles drove past, blowing up a small cloud of loose gravel and dirt. Up close, the machine gun on the automated turret looked lethal and high-tech. Something like that would no doubt shred the basilisk.

  “So anyhow,” said Alex, “this is our home. We call it the Magic Kingdom.”

  “Why?”

  He paused in thought for a moment before answering. “Operators have a weird sense of humor. Someone thought it sounded funny, you know, like Disneyland. Kind of lame now that I stop and think about it.”

  She stared at his face. She was certain there was more to it than someone thinking it sounded funny but let it go. “Operators?”

  “Special Forces operators. That’s how we identify ourselves.”

  “You’re Special Forces?”

  “Task Force Devil.”

  He must have seen the frown on her face, because he elaborated. “So, whenever armies put together a special team for a mission—or an operation, which is a bunch of missions—we form what’s called a task force, an organization of people, gear, and support facilities to help get the job done.”

  “So, why that name?”

  “Well, remember I said operators have a weird sense of humor?”

  She nodded.

  “We also have a highly developed appreciation for history and tradition. This is a joint American-Canadian task force. That’s actually very unusual, but it’s not unheard of. In 1942, during the Second World War, there was another joint unit, the 1st Special Service Force. It was kind of the first-ever Special Forces unit in North America, an American-Canadian version of the British commandos. It was a highly decorated fighting force that did combat in Italy and France.”

  “So, why Devil?”

  “The 1st Special Service Force was also known as the Devil’s Brigade. German officers referred to them as ‘Black Devils.’”

  “That’s it?”

  “I said we had a highly developed appreciation for history. I didn’t say it was always super clever.”

  She smiled, patted his forearm, then grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face the all-ranks-mess entrance. “Is this bar open now?”

  He smiled, raising his eyebrows. “Come on. I’ll buy you a beer. Then I have to get back to work, and you need to move into the barracks. Tonight, you start training with the other lab rats.”

  “Nice. You know how to flatter a girl.”

  He held the door for her.

  * * *

  Cassie was bored out of her mind. She sat on the edge of her bed in her new room in the barracks and contemplated her surroundings. The barracks was kind of like a university dorm only way less interesting and much cleaner. Her small room came with an uncomfortable little bed with hard white sheets and a scratchy gray wool blanket that had a black racing stripe running down its center. There was no television and only a small radio alarm clock on a bedside table. A flimsy wooden chair sat in front of a small desk near the open window.

  It was all very orderly, very functional, and very sad. No Internet, no Wi-Fi—not that she had her phone anyhow. The Hotel Del Spartan, she mused. And Lee wants to join up and live like this all the time?

  Since her brief walkabout with Alex, she had been left to herself. Testing with Dr. Simmons and her staff was to commence later that evening, but for the moment, there was nothing much to do but sit around, stare at her hands, and contemplate her life.

  She was all alone in the world. Her entire family was dead. She was a twenty-year-old orphan. It was like a bad joke, only it wasn’t a joke at all. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the monster again, saw it kill her sister.

  She jumped to her feet, deciding she couldn’t stay there anymore. It was almost supper time anyhow. She’d make her way over to the cafeteria. Flinging her door open, she stormed out into the hallway—and ran into Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth wore dark-green army clothing. The two women stared at each other for a long, awkward moment. “I heard you were here,” Elizabeth finally said.

  “Hello to you, too.”

  Elizabeth, clearly uncomfortable, squared her shoulders and looked Cassie in the eye. “I’m… I’m so sorry for your loss. I’ve been praying for your sister… and for you.”

  Cassie fought back the tears and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Down the hallway, one of the female soldiers was coming out of the showers, her skin rosy. The young woman wore a pink bathrobe and fluffy slippers, looking nothing like a trained killer. Elizabeth and Cassie waited silently as she walked past them.

  “Thank you,” Cassie finally said, watching the young woman’s back as she walked away.

  She didn’t want to think of Alice any more that day. It just hurt too much.

  “I was on my way to dinner,” Elizabeth said. “Would you like to join me?”

  “Sure.”

  Together, they walked out of the barracks, passing another young soldier on his way out, who nodded in greeting but watched them suspiciously just the same.

  “They don’t trust us, do they?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I’m not sure they really want us here. We make them uncomfortable.”

  “I can’t imagine why.”

  “It’s because we can work miracles,” Elizabeth stated simply, as if she were talking about the weather.

  Cassie watched her out of the corner of her eye. She really believes that nonsense—that God has chosen us. Outside, the stench of diesel fuel mingled with the scent of pine trees. The two women walked across a mostly empty parking lot to get to the cafeteria. Cassie stared at the military vehicles parked in front of the cafeteria: large, multiwheeled transport trucks sat beside small, jeep-like off-road vehicles.

  A steady stream of soldiers and technicians was gathering near the glass double doors of the cafeteria, forming a line. As they joined the queue, the conversations of those around them died down. It was pretty obvious everyone there knew who they were—the mag-sens, the freaks who could work magic. Cassie pretended not to notice. Any uneasiness these people had was their problem, not hers.

  The cafeteria doors opened, and the line began to move. Once inside, Elizabeth handed Cassie a still-wet
plastic tray from a rack and they edged forward, their trays held in front of them. Elizabeth glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “The… creature at the hospital, what do you think—”

  “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “It’s still out there, isn’t it?”

  Cassie bit her lip and quickly nodded then looked away.

  Elizabeth reached over and patted Cassie’s wrist. Then, fortunately, the line moved again, and Cassie quickly found herself standing in front of the food. She ordered barbecued chicken and rice from the menu listed on a whiteboard. With their trays full, the two young women looked about the crowded cafeteria for a table. The other diners made a point of staring down at their plates, pointedly ignoring them.

  Cassie sighed. Not that long ago, young men would have been shoving each other aside to make room for her.

  “There,” Elizabeth said, nudging Cassie with her elbow.

  At a table near a window, a young man sat alone. He was a civilian like them but clearly out of place among the soldiers, technicians, and base staff. Cassie followed Elizabeth. As they stood in front of him, the young man glanced up, startled.

  “Cassie, this is Duncan.” Elizabeth set her tray down and pulled out her chair, seating herself.

  “Hey,” said Cassie, sitting down as well. “Cassie Rogan.”

  Duncan was in his early twenties, maybe just a little older than her. Tall and thin, he was kind of awkward looking—a bit nerdy really. He had a long, drooping mustache, the ends of which ran all the way down to his chin, and long sideburns. His wavy brown hair had been carefully combed across his forehead, but the overall effect was that of a guy trying way too hard to be hip. That impression was reinforced when he smiled timidly at Cassie and hesitated before holding his hand out to shake hers.

  “Duncan Walton Hocking,” he mumbled through a mouth filled with food. “Nice to meet you.”

  His grip was weak, but Cassie’s eyes widened when she felt a slight tingling in the back of her throat.

  Elizabeth reached across the table for the salt and pepper. “Duncan’s from Fort St. John as well.”