by Bryan Cohen
The General clutched at his stomach as the sickness crept over him again. It was the third time this week he'd run to the bathroom with discomfort. The previous two instances had induced vomit, but a few splashes of water had made him feel much better this time. A knock came at the door.
"Give me a moment."
The clicking of Pluric's tongue made his identity obvious through the door. "Are you doing alright, General?"
The General hesitated for a moment before opening the door. Pluric looked more annoyed than sympathetic.
"It's better this time."
Pluric looked back to the throne room. "You have a dozen more trials to see to."
The General nodded. "The last few weeks have been... strange."
Pluric tapped his commander on the shoulder. "Soon enough, you'll be back to normal." He looked deep into the General's eyes. "I think you should reconsider the decision you made about the girl's mother."
The General once again saw the memories of Razellia and Vella. There were bits and pieces of other people interspersed throughout the thoughts. The humans Natalie and Travis, and the protector, Erica LaPlante. There was a sweetness to the images. He wasn't seeing enemies. He was seeing friends. His friends. The realization came over him that he wasn't the General after all.
As soon as the epiphany came, it started to dissipate. A tiny memory formed far back in his mind. It was as if it was miles away. He remembered Tank, one of Nigel's gang members calling out to him after he'd first used his powers. The voice was like an echo.
"What the hell are you?"
I'm Ted.
The memory came and went. It'd been wiped from his mind.
The General blinked. "What was the woman's name again?"
Pluric smiled. "Razellia."
The General straightened his clothes and grinned back. "You know, we do want to send the right message to the people." Warmth filled him as he pictured his kingdom yet to come. "Kill her. And make the daughter watch."
Co-Authors’ Note
As you’ve probably figured out by this point, we’re huge fans of Joss Whedon. Maybe it was the literary sword we buried in your back that clued you in :). We’re sorry about that, but we write the stories we would want to read. We love comedy mixed with tragedy and having our hearts hugged and stomped upon in equal measure. It’s a tough way to live, but that’s entertainment!
If you still want to find out what happens to Ted, Erica, Natalie, and the gang, you can read a short preview of The Devil Within on the following pages.
You can also get the whole next book onto your device RIGHT NOW if you click this link and buy it.
We really appreciate dedicated readers like yourself. Thanks for taking the time with us, and for caring about what happens to the characters who live in our heads!
Sincerely,
Bryan & Casey
Excerpt: The Devil Within
President Blake awoke with a start as his phone buzzed on the bedside table. A nearby clock displayed the time of 3 a.m. in blinking red lights. It didn't take long into his first term in the Presidency for him to turn from a deep sleeper into an extremely light napper. After nearly four years in the office, he could tell this late-night interruption wasn't an emergency, but he knew it warranted enough effort to hop out of bed and slip on his lightweight walking shoes. He noticed his wife stirring to his left, but he was relieved when she didn't fully wake up. He would've gotten an earful in the morning for that. He pressed the necessary button to take the call as he stepped into another room and quietly closed the door behind him.
His scratchy voice pierced through the silence. "This better be good."
The man on the other line stammered for a beat before he composed himself. "I–I–I wouldn't have called you so late, sir, if it wasn't of extreme–"
Blake sighed. "Just let me take a leak first."
Walking down the marble staircase of the ancient-for-America building used to give Blake great pride. Now, with Ridley, his up-all-night Secret Serviceman by his side, the history of the place seemed to fall away.
Their footsteps weren't echoing in a museum; it was more like a prison. And he was the head warden, tasked only with making sure the inmates didn't escape. Like all Presidents before him, Blake's temples were graying, and he was showing the signs of incredible stress in all the typical health indicators. And yet, he won the responsibility to govern his country twice in the last five years. He likely would've lost and learned to sleep again, if Senator Kable hadn't been a bloodthirsty psychopath all along. Blake pictured the uncensored DHS footage of his opponent with the outstretched arm of a metal statue sticking through his stomach.
Hell of a way to go. That bastard'll be more remembered than I will, he thought.
Ridley opened the door to a room Blake had only been inside once, to his recollection. As the neurons started to fire and bring him out of his sleepy state, he realized that the person on the phone hadn't been the Secretary of Defense. These days, that usually meant it was a Homeland Security thing. Which, of course, meant that nobody knew what the hell was going on. The organization had assumed responsibility early on for anything Ted– or other-world-related, and they'd been trying to get rid of the responsibility ever since. It never looked good when half of your top officers had their minds wiped by an insane and power-hungry presidential candidate.
I'm the only one who should be allowed to do that.
Blake rubbed the sleep and gunk away from his eyes and looked up to see freshly-minted DHS Secretary Ken Roberts attempt to stand up straight. Blake wondered how long the silver-haired new appointee had been awake. He also wondered if the official had any chance to handle even a tenth of these insane situations the other worlds were putting on their radar.
Roberts suppressed a yawn. "Sir, there's something you need to see here."
Blake nodded so he didn't have to hide his own grogginess with a reply. Roberts gestured to another door, and Blake and his sentinel walked through. Wall-to-wall technology that Blake's pen had approved covered the walls and ran down to a system of what he assumed were information-age computers powered by a team of nerds clacking away on their crumb-laden keyboards. He was half-surprised not to see a garbage can filled with Mountain Dew bottles anywhere in the room.
Roberts cleared his throat and two out of three of the nerds stood at attention in response. "Mr. President, I'd like to introduce you to our team of Ted Trackers."
Blake squinted. These were the technological experts who exposed Erica LaPlante and later his electoral counterpart as beings with great power. They also looked like the kind of kids Blake punched in the face back in middle school.
It's a shame those days are over.
Blake grunted. "Gentlemen, you woke me up from a pretty sexy dream, so I hope you have something good."
Of course, he hadn't been dreaming at all, but he wanted to see the dorks squirm a bit. He wasn't disappointed.
The Ted Tracker with the largest glasses stepped forward. He attempted to straighten his spine, but it looked as though thousands of hours hunched in front of the screen prevented him from being able to do so with any kind of success. "Sir, we apologize for the late hour." He took off his glasses and wiped them with his sleeve. "As you know, we've been tracking Erica LaPlante and Ted Finley since this program began. As a result, we know what they look like on our monitors when they're using their powers."
Blake let the growl stay lodged in his throat. "I'm well aware. Tell me something that makes this trip to the Geek Squad worth my while."
The head nerd shifted uncomfortably once again. "Well, we've noticed an anomaly."
After several minutes of walking Blake through the system, the nerd on high finally got to the good stuff. He pointed to a particular spot on the color-coded graphs that filled one of the largest computer monitors the President had ever seen.
"If you look at Ted's energy signature here, this is the moment he crossed through the portal in Philadelphia and left... uh, our worl
d for a few weeks."
The regular pattern dipped up and down with few peaks or valleys of any kind. The president traced the line to get a better understanding, before nodding at his tour guide to continue.
The nerd took a deep, phlegm-filled inhalation. "But if you look here, ever since he returned, his pattern is completely different."
The dork was right. Instead of the even pattern that had occurred beforehand, there were large jumps up and down that hardly resembled the former graph.
Blake took a deep breath to stave off another yawn. "And none of the others who went through the portal experienced the same thing?"
The Nerd King shook his head.
Blake peered into the genius' eyes through his thick spectacles. "You're a scientist. What's your hypothesis?"
The nerd took a deep breath. He looked to his fellow geeks for support, but their eyes remained downturned. He returned the President's glare. "Sir, we don't think it's Ted."
Blake stared back for a second before turning and beginning a presidential pace. Even through the tiredness, a name he'd been scared to utter trickled to the front of his mind.
His voice came out in a whisper. "The General."
Secretary Roberts took a few steps toward him. "Who?"
Blake raised one eyebrow. "You tap enough phones, you learn about hell of a lot of suspects." He stood up tall and smiled. "Thank you, gentlemen. I appreciate you bringing this to my attention."
The head nerd's face scrunched up in confusion. "We thought you should know about this as soon as possible. Especially with the Summit coming up."
Blake walked over as Presidentially as he could muster. He put a hand on the dork's shoulder. "Thank you for that. Now, go home and get some sleep. I'm sure you've got some n00bs to frag in the morning or something."
Blake turned on a dime and walked out of the room with Roberts and his Secret Serviceman shadow in tow.
He waited until the door was closed and they'd taken at least 10 paces before speaking again. "I want them all promoted and reassigned."
Roberts blinked a few times in response. "Sure thing, Sir. But shouldn't we be worried that Ted isn't who he says he is?"
Blake smiled for the first time that day. "Mr. Secretary, when you find out that someone is playing dirty, you don't stop them." He firmly cuffed Roberts on the shoulder. "You simply join the game."
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Legal Business & Acknowledgements
All contents Copyright © 2017 by Bryan Cohen & Casey Lane. All rights reserved. No part of this document or the related files may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means (electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. They are used throughout this book in an editorial fashion only. The publisher has used its best efforts in preparing this book, and the information provided herein is provided "as is." Bryan Cohen & Casey Lane make no representation or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this book and specifically disclaims any implied warranties of merchantability or fitness for any particular purpose and shall in no event be liable for any loss of profit or any other commercial damage, including but not limited to special, incidental, consequential, or other damages. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Thank you to everybody who made this book possible. Especially Ashley Lankford, H. Claire Taylor, Sheridan Stancliff, Dan Brian, Tim Matson, and Julianne Clancy. Lastly, thanks to Amy for everything.
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