by John Conroe
“The sacrifice already occurred, Attorney Cornell,” Tanya said, her use of formal address a rebuke.
“She’s exactly right. And you are too,” Declan said. “I’m not going to lie. This spell is perhaps the darkest I’ve ever constructed. It uses death magic, as in the death of the victims, to give it at least a little power, just a bit.”
“And what does that do?” Lydia asked. “Because I’ve always understood that we needed to keep you from doing any death magic?” She shot a glance at Stacia as she commented.
“Ninety percent of this spell has nothing to do with death, but with commonalities, connections, and shared attributes. The on-Earth organization of the Vorsook share a common goal: the conquering of Earth. That common purpose is our drill bit. Think of the grief and anger of the survivors, along with the innocent deaths of the victims, to be the carbide that coats our drill bit, letting it bite deeper than it could on its own, able to cut through hard metal.”
“What’s with the tree?” Arkady asked.
Declan smiled again, and there was nothing nice about it. “That, Arkady, is the root part,” he said, then waved his hand.
For a second, nothing happened, then the lights dimmed. It took me a second to realize it wasn’t just the lights on the roof, but all the lights… across the entire city. The ones on the roof popped and snapped, throwing sparks that bounced off the invisible walls of each circle. The lights of Brooklyn faded to darkness, then the lights of Manhattan, followed by all the other boroughs, dimming down to complete blackness.
For a second, there was just starlight, at least for those of us with true night vision, and then, with a hiss and a snap, a florescent blue light flared at the edges of the two big outside circles, zipping around them like hungry flames on trails of gunpowder. Then the lights began to jump across the diagram, tendrils of blue will-o’-the-wisp leaping from sigil to symbol to circle to line until the entire working glowed blue. Suddenly, the red road flares at the points of the pentagram ignited all at once, adding their hellish glow to the already very spooky scene.
With a sharp whump, the piles of clothes caught fire, followed a second later by the big pile of memorial items, going up in a flare of fire that lit the whole rooftop. Funny thing was that the road flares weren’t close enough to have ignited those fires, which burned like they had been doused in some kind of accelerant far more flammable than gasoline.
My sharp hearing let me hear the almost silent countdown by Declan, who tilted his head up and away from his creation, looking almost straight up at the stars. “Five, four, three, two, one,” he whispered. As his soft voice hit one, two things happened simultaneously: In the centermost circle, the one with the grotesque spines and skulls, a brilliant blue flame lit up, and at the exact same time, the yew tree just grew, expanding in height and mass like a dry sponge sucking up water. It grew six feet taller in two seconds, the same two seconds that the blue light burned inside the circle, its roots bursting free and breaking its pot. And when the two seconds were up, a beam of brilliant blue light shot up into the night. Tiny, the diameter of a nail maybe, like the world’s most powerful blue laser pointer. And it didn’t go straight up but rather off at an angle, across the sky and into the western night, a beam that stretched to the stars and then cut off, the pulse flashing up into the heavens.
The light fluorescing from the diagram disappeared like a switch had been thrown, the only light left on the rooftop coming from the still burning red flares and the dwindling fires.
“What exactly just happened?” Tanya asked.
“Two things, I think,” Declan said.
“You think?” Darion asked sharply.
The young witch turned slowly, his blue eyes glowing softly in the night, and the much bigger man took a sudden step back. “As I understand it, Attorney Cornell, you are here as a witness, correct?”
Cornell nodded twice, sharply, and I could smell sudden fear coming from him.
“Then perhaps listening and witnessing are called for?” Declan said in a cold voice.
“D, that’s enough,” Stacia said.
The blue light in the witch’s eyes died as soon as she spoke, and his cold expression changed to something less hard. “As I said, the remnants of the Vorsook’s agents”—he waved at the middle circle, which was now completely empty, the metallic spines and grotesque heads just simply gone—“were cross-linked to both their alien master and to the rest of the organization. So we were able to accomplish two different spells at once. One to, ah, root out the terrorists, and one to send a direct message to the alien that attacked us.”
“Okay, Merlin, how the hell does your spell let us find these terrorist bastards?” Lydia asked, not at all put off by the witch who had just blacked out New York City, the lights of which were only now coming back on.
“Omega?” Declan asked.
“Nine-one-one calls are coming in now.”
“Where?” Nika asked.
“Everywhere. Not just in most major cities here in the US, but all across the country. Similar calls are being made in other countries all over the world.”
“What’s the nature of these calls?” Tanya asked, glancing at our witch.
“They concern individuals who have suddenly expressed unusual growths,” Omega said.
“Unusual?” I asked although I already had a good idea based on my lunchtime conversation.
“Tree roots growing from their legs, down, into the ground or floor.”
“Across the country?” Lydia asked.
“Across the world.”
Chapter 32
“Well, it’s been some time since we last caught up. Thanks for agreeing to this interview, you two,” the internet journalist said.
“Yeah, it’s good to see you too, Brystol,” Stacia replied, sitting comfortably, legs crossed at the knee, hands in her lap.
“I would say you look amazing, Stacia, but then, you always do,” Brystol Chatterjee said with a sincere smile.
“Aw thank you, but that’s not at all true, right D?” Stacia said, glancing at the witch sitting next to her.
“No, she’s right, you always look great,” he said. “In a jungle, on top of a mountain, in the middle of a desert.”
“Whoa, listen to this smooth talker,” Brystol laughed. “You’ve certainly upped your game, Declan.”
He just shrugged, clearly nowhere near as comfortable in front of cameras as his wolf was.
“So what did you want to talk about?” Stacia asked with an easy smile.
“Oh, I have a full agenda for today’s chat, Stacia,” Brystol said with a sly smile and a laugh. The thing was that their interactions weren’t fake. It was clear that they really did like each other and even the witch, who hated being the center of attention, wasn’t threatened by Brystol.
“Okay, before we dive into the meat of the matter, I have some recurring questions that I get from fans. Currently, the one in the top spot, by like a mile, is some variation of this: With the exception of Mr. Smooth’s last comment, your relationship seems… um, how do I say this? Low key? Lacking, ah, well, passion?”
“Really? That’s how it appears? Hmm,” Stacia mused, smiling slightly, but her green eyes got just a touch lighter.
“That’s the question I get,” Brystol said, holding up both palms. “Just passing it along.”
“I’ve read comments like that before too,” Declan said suddenly, nodding.
“And your response?” Brystol asked.
He looked surprised. “Do I need one?”
She laughed. “Well, that is the nature of answering fan questions.”
He turned his right hand over, palm up, resting it on his right knee. A ball of fire the size of a basketball burst in being, roiling flames of orange, white, and red. “Does anyone really want to see me display lots of excitement?”
Brystol had pulled back at the emergence of the fire but Stacia never even looked his way. She reached blindly for his knee, her eyes on Brystol, t
he fire disappearing as her hand got near enough to pat his leg.
“When you grow up as Declan did, controlling your emotions is pretty much a life and death requirement, wouldn’t you say, Brystol?”
“Okay, I get it. No flaming personal displays of affection. But I think what the fans are asking is for a glimpse into what they feel has to be a powerful romance, but they… we… don’t get to see.”
“Ha, who’s the smooth talker now?” Stacia asked.
“Let’s face it: The world is fascinated with you two and it’s only human to wonder,” Brystol said. “After all, you have, by your own admissions, spent most of the year traveling to far-off, remote places in order to meet entities that aren’t even aware of humans. How much romance is there in that? All work and no play makes for, well, no play.”
“I see,” Stacia said. “Brystol, are you familiar with the Crested Auklet?”
“What?”
“It’s a bird, related to puffins. Nests on the volcanic outcroppings of the Aleutian Islands off the Alaskan coast. Gray feathers, kind of chunky, orange beak, and a little feather crest that hangs down over their face.”
“Okay, interesting segue but let’s go with it. No, I haven’t,” Brystol said.
“Look them up. Specifically for videos of flocks flying in synchronized patterns. Flocks of two hundred thousand or more,” Stacia said. “Once you’ve done that, I want you to imagine yourself sitting on one of those active volcanic islands, picnicking while thousands of colorful birds fly patterns over and around you. So close that when you raise your hand, their feathers brush your fingers as you sip wine and nibble on a gourmet lunch packed by a world-class chef. Flying patterns around you that circle you like you’re the center of the universe. Landing on your outstretched arms, performing maneuvers that would probably never happen if you weren’t there. If he wasn’t there. Then I want you to reconsider your question.”
Brystol’s eyes were wide and she was speechless for a moment. Then she turned her head to Declan. “You devil you.”
“I drag her all over the place, so the least I can do is take time out for us to smell the roses, so to speak,” he said.
“And you do this all over the world?”
“Our visits are usually quiet and peaceful and we’re in the most amazing natural places on the planet. It would be a crime not to enjoy it,” he said.
“Wait, my producer has a clip. Let’s play it.” A monitor behind them lit up with a video showing massive flocks flying close patterns. “That’s amazing, but I see that and wonder if you don’t need a really sturdy umbrella to protect you from poo?”
Stacia pointed at Declan. “Witch. Magic. Invisible shields.”
Brystol nodded. “Right. So, you turn all of these expeditions into romantic getaways?” she asked Declan.
“Yes, unless I happen to trigger a massive undersea earthquake,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “Right up until then, we were enjoying deep sea bioluminescence.”
“Ah, perfect. Earthquakes. That happens to be next on my list of questions,” the journalist said. “As in, how much did you have to do with the recent quakes in California and the Midwest?”
“Are you asking if I caused them?” he asked with a really deep frown.
“The rumor is you may have stopped them,” Brystol added hurriedly.
“California is still there, right?” Stacia said.
“And immediately after, you and the rest of your gang of do-gooders dug a whole bunch of survivors from the rubble. The videos of your, ah, excavations, have been viral for a week,” Brystol said. “And the president, the Hammer of God and his Night Angel all admitted it was an attack from the aliens, conducted by humans who actually side with the Vorsook. Oh, and there is a whole section of the Santa Cruz mountains that have been closed off by the federal government, a section that triggers big spikes on airborne Geiger counters.”
“So what are you asking?” Stacia asked after a puzzled glance at her boyfriend.
“You were involved, right? Along with Chris Gordon and Tatiana Demidova?”
“Yes. Kind of our job,” Declan said.
“And it was wildly successful, at least as the White House spins it?”
“People died,” Declan said, his frown back and deeper than ever. Every single body removed from the wreckage had helped build that frown.
“Yes, they did, and our prayers and thoughts go out to their families and loved ones. But fewer died than would have, fewer by millions,” Brystol said.
Declan just looked down at his folded hands but Stacia nodded. “Yeah, that’s accurate.”
“People have wondered if we would have a response to that attack. It’s the next biggest question on my list. But personally, I think it’s already happened,” the reporter continued.
“Oh?” Declan asked without looking up, still looking at his fingers.
“Yeah, it seems that six hundred and ninety-six people suddenly grew plant roots from their feet into the ground or floor or wherever they were standing, all over the planet, all at the same time—the exact same time—last night when New York’s lights went dark. And according to the authorities, those people have all turned out to be Vorsook sympathizers, without exception, and have been either arrested in those cases where there was evidence of crimes, or at least exposed where there wasn’t. Apparently, Omega helped find the connections.”
“Yeah, we heard that too,” Stacia said.
“Odd, right? Happened just after all the cards and photos at the LA memorial site just vanished. Seems related,” she said, staring at Stacia, who looked her in the eye, and then at Declan, who was still studying his hands.
“Bizarre,” Stacia agreed, nodding.
“And as I said, right at that same time, there was a city-wide power outage here in the Big Apple that none of the utility companies can explain. Lasted just a minute or two, but it was completely dark here, so dark that millions of New Yorkers all saw a beam of blue light flash into the sky. A beam of light that looked suspiciously like the kind of thing that you used in Philadelphia?”
“Are you asking if I shot a laser at the stars in order to try and hurt a Vorsook who is some ridiculous number of light years away?” Declan asked.
“Well, the experts say that such a beam wouldn’t reach any star system near us for hundreds of years, if not thousands. But some of them have speculated that it was more of a kind of pointer, showing where in the universe the aliens might be. It was caught on a whole bunch of videos, you know.”
“Omega, is that right? Did that mysterious light beam point out the Vorsook galaxy?” Stacia asked the open air. Instantly, Omega’s avatar was just suddenly sitting next to her, appearing out of nowhere. Brystol jumped but neither the witch nor the werewolf flinched in the slightest.
“Well, Stacia, that beam of light did appear to aim directly for the Canis Major Dwarf galaxy, which happens to be our galaxy’s closest neighbor,” Omega said. “It could certainly make a viable location for the Vorsook.”
“Hi, Omega,” Brystol greeted him. “I have to say I love when you pop into these interviews. So much more bang for the buck.”
“Well, as you know, I hang around these two a quite a bit, so you can’t honestly be that surprised?”
“Oh, a girl can always hope, right?” she said. “But my question is what good would a laser pointer do as a response to a deadly attack against our world, our country?”
“It wouldn’t, at least by itself,” Omega said. “Useful information, but frankly the distance is far too vast for it to have any impact on a distant galaxy. In fact, the whole idea of space travel without using black holes and other portals to cover these unimaginable distances is moronic.”
“Oh, you’re going to lose me really fast talking about all this particle physics stuff,” Brystol said. “But I have heard the word entanglement thrown about by some of the very smart people. Can you explain that?”
“Yes, it’s very valid,” Omega admitted. �
��There are quantum particles that are linked to each other, entangled so to speak, and whatever happens to one happens instantly to the other, no matter the distance.”
“So rather than a laser beam, a counterattack against these aliens who might be, say, twenty-five thousand light years away, using entanglement would make that distance moot?”
“Exactly. Let’s say you had one half of an entangled pair of particles. It’s almost like having one end of a phone call. If you sent your response through that phone, it would pop out the other end, right? It would seem almost instant. Only with entanglement, it would be instant.”
“Okay, that’s an image I can wrap my head around,” Brystol said. “So you could send, say, the energy from a major city’s electrical grid through it and sorta, what? Bomb the other side?”
“Possibly, but let’s say you took not just all the electricity from the grid, but also a big chunk of kinetic energy from all of that city’s buses, trucks, cars, elevators, as well as the millions of individual inhabitants, and then add in the thermal energy stored in miles and miles of pavement and concrete from a long day in the hot sun, as well as the heat from hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of various motors, furnaces, freezers, refrigerators, capacitors, power plants, generators, and even nearby nuclear reactors. Now, that would be a pretty powerful package. You could do a lot of damage with something like that,” Omega said.
“Wow,” she said, sitting back, eyes really wide. “That paints a pretty incredible picture.”
She looked at Declan, who still hadn’t looked up from his focus on his fingers. She turned back to Omega. “What kind of damage would that do?”
“Well, Brystol, there’s no way to know that. We can only speculate, and it would depend on where the other half of that entangled pair of particles was, right?” Omega asked. “Is the particle in an alien home, vehicle, their equivalent of an office? On a planet, in a ship that’s in space, inside an asteroid or moon? Who could say?”
“But if you had to guess, knowing what only you know about the aliens, what would you guess?” she pressed.