Shadow Ops 3: Breach Zone

by Myke Cole

  ‘What do you want, Scylla?’ Saying the monster’s name felt good. Don’t call her Grace. That woman is dead.

  ‘To save your life, and the lives of whatever handful of Latent people you have under your command. You’re an idiot, but it’s an idiocy born of devotion to the institutions that raised you. It takes a lot to break those chains. You turned down the chance to come with me before, but . . . you know, since we were close, I figured I’d give you another one.’

  ‘You’re not making sense.’

  ‘I am the only one here making any sense.’

  She held up a pistol. Without taking her eyes off Harlequin, she fired it into one of the Gahe. The creature didn’t flinch, the bullet vanishing into the dark surface of its body.

  ‘You have a lot of these,’ Scylla mused, looking down at the smoking gun. ‘Bigger ones, too. None of them will help, you know that?’

  ‘If you think that means I give up my position, you’re wrong.’

  She shook her head, clucking her tongue. ‘That’s suicide, for you and your subordinates. And for what? So you can go on doing the bidding of people who are terrified of you? We’re the same, Jan. We both want to do good.’

  ‘You don’t want to do good.’

  ‘We’re the next rung on the evolutionary ladder, you and I. We are quite literally the same. It’s foolish for us to fight.’

  ‘We’re not the same. I’m an agent of the people of the United States of America, and you’re a murdering criminal. Whatever happened between us died along with those people you killed. Now, tell your dogs to go back where they came from and surrender. I won’t take it easy on you, but I’ll be just. That’s something.’

  ‘I think I’m done with your brand of justice, thank you very much,’ Scylla said. ‘If you’re determined to remain a footrest for the humans, then I’ll have to hold you to account along with them.’

  ‘Humans?’ Harlequin asked. ‘You’re a human.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Scylla’s expression darkened. ‘I’m something else entirely. You could be, too, if you’d only let yourself see it. We’re a new race to rule a new world. Your SOC and McGauer-Linden laws are just feeble flailings to stave that off. That flailing irritates me. I’m here to make it stop.’

  ‘New race, huh?’ Harlequin gestured to the Gahe. ‘Is this what the new race looks like? Because you don’t seem to fit in too well. And honestly? They’re fucking ugly.’

  She exchanged glances with the Gahe she’d shot, back to Harlequin. ‘Looks can be deceiving. There’s plenty to find ugly about humanity.’

  ‘And plenty to find beautiful, too,’ Harlequin said. ‘Are they equally devoted to this new order of yours? And what about all those goblins up on Wall Street? What did you have to promise to get them to help you?’

  ‘And what were you promised, Jan? Are these humans you’re so ready to die for rewarding your loyalty? Are they treating you like the hero you are?’

  Harlequin swallowed. Faces flashed through his mind, the vein throbbing in Hewitt’s forehead, Knut’s curled lip.

  ‘They’re terrified of you, aren’t they?’ Scylla asked. ‘They curse you even as they beg you to save them. Why, Jan? I don’t understand.’

  Because it’s not about me. It never was, he thought. But all he said was, ‘You can’t understand.’

  ‘Jan,’ she said, her voice low now, all anger gone from it, quivering ever so slightly. She sounded hurt. She sounded genuine. ‘Jan, please. Don’t do this.’

  It’s not her. Grace is gone. Harlequin looked down and shook his head.

  Scylla sighed. The remnants of her smile faded. ‘Remember when I worked here?’ she asked, sweeping her arm to encompass the now-silent Financial District. ‘Remember what I showed you?’

  ‘I remember,’ Harlequin said. ‘It doesn’t matter. You came up Latent. You came up Probe. You killed people.’

  The sardonic smirk returned. ‘And that is why they help me. The goblins, the mountain gods, all of them. They see you for what you are, and they know you will never stop until you control every action of everyone and everything that frightens you.

  ‘They want the same thing I do. To be able to go to bed at night and never have to wake up worrying that you’re out there, plotting to put us in chains again.

  ‘We can’t get that by negotiating with you. We can only get that by teaching you what those chains feel like. You’ll have to wear them for a good, long while before you understand.’

  Her voice and posture stiffened. ‘Last chance. You can stand at my side, or you can crawl under my boot, but I’m done asking nicely.

  ‘I’ve given you terms. Accept them, and let’s be done with this.’

  Harlequin shook his head. ‘Your terms are refused. You’re going to have one hell of a fight on your hands. I promise you this: When we beat you, and we will beat you, we’re not going to throw you back in the hole. We’re going to make damn sure that you can never hurt anyone else ever again.’

  ‘How pleasant to see we have precisely the same goals,’ she replied, ‘and yet another reason why it’s foolish for us to oppose one another. I have a feeling that as this struggle wears on, you’ll come to see the wisdom of my position. Please convey to your leadership that I’ll be glad to receive any embassy from them under flag of parley should they wish to treat with me. They can find me there. Top floor.’ She pointed over her shoulder up Wall Street, where the Trump Building rose seventy stories over the Manhattan skyline.

  ‘Nobody is coming to talk to you, Scylla. We’re going to rout your army; and then we’re going to put you to death.’

  ‘We’ve known one another a long time, Jan. I promised when you first took me that I would get free. I promised that I would turn that fucking gulag of yours to ashes. And I did, didn’t I?’

  Harlequin was silent.

  ‘Didn’t I?’ she repeated.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I also promised that I would make you pay. I always keep my promises, Harlequin.

  ‘Always.’

  Interlude Two

  Sheepdogs And Wolves

  The problem was one of military authority. Title 10 of the US Code prevents the military from arresting or using deadly force against people not subject to the UCMJ. The navy uses the Coast Guard’s legal authority to get around that when warships happen to come across drug smugglers at sea. The SOC Law-Enforcement Support Elements were the answer on the ground. The fact was that Selfers are really a police matter, right? American citizens breaking American laws. But when the bad guys have the kind of firepower that Selfers usually pack, well, even the best SWAT team in the world isn’t going to cut it. You need muscle, and that’s where we come in.

  – Major Samuel Arneau, Judge Advocate General, US Supernatural Operations Corps

  Six Years Earlier

  Enoteca went silent as Harlequin and Crucible walked in. The Upper West Side wine bar was a staple for corporate executives, software tycoons, and the rest of New York City’s power elite. They weren’t used to seeing army officers in uniform.

  Army Sorcerers were a bridge too far.

  Harlequin was used to it by now. He’d been alternately reviled and admired by every non-Latent person he met, and he didn’t prefer one reaction over the other. Both fetishized him. At the zoo, you stared in amazement at the lion. You waxed eloquent about its beauty, its lean, predator grace. But you sure as fuck weren’t going to get in the cage with it. Thorsson met the shocked gazes evenly. He was not a human being to these people. Some thought him more, some less. It made him tired.

  The silence began to abate into nervous chatter as the two officers took a seat by the window and looked over the menus.

  ‘So, where’s our contact?’ Harlequin asked.

  Crucible gestured at the crowd. ‘We’re the standouts. She
’ll find us.’

  ‘It’s a female?’

  Crucible nodded, and they sat in moody silence, painfully conscious of the stares falling over them.

  ‘We could take these off, I guess,’ Crucible said, tapping the SOC badge Velcroed on his sleeve. ‘Maybe they’d think we were National Guard.’

  Harlequin shook his head. ‘SOC is what we are. I’m not hiding that. I’ll make captain soon, and then it’s out of here. Less time around civilians, the better.’

  Crucible smiled, arching an eyebrow. ‘We swore to protect these civilians.’

  ‘We did,’ Harlequin agreed. ‘But that’s not something they understand. We’re sheepdogs.’

  Crucible’s expression fell. ‘Jan, I got the same speech when I went through SAOLCC. It’s crap.’

  Thorsson swept a hand over the crowd, men in thousand-dollar suits chatting amiably with women whose gym-lean figures were amply advertised by pencil skirts. ‘Sheep, Crucible. These are sheep.’

  Crucible frowned. ‘Don’t drink the Kool-Aid, Jan. You don’t have to believe everything they teach you.’

  Harlequin waved a hand. ‘It’s the truth. They go about their lives blissfully ignorant of the danger that’s all around them. At any moment, a Selfer could Manifest here, decide they want to practice desiccative Hydromancy on a city block. Then they’re all dead, and all the money and power in the world can’t change it.

  ‘They’re sheep, and there are wolves in the flock, Crucible. And they don’t even know it.’

  ‘Wolves.’ Crucible sighed.

  ‘Wolves,’ Harlequin agreed. ‘We keep those wolves at bay. And you know what the problem is with that?’

  ‘That you keep talking?’ Crucible asked.

  ‘The problem,’ Harlequin went on, ‘is that sheepdogs and wolves look the same, smell the same. To a sheep, there’s no difference.’

  ‘You need to secure that attitude,’ Crucible said. ‘You don’t do the job because you expect to be thanked for it. It’s not about you and never was. Neither of us asked to come up Latent, but we do the best with what we have. You distance yourself from these so-called sheep far enough, and you’ll turn into a wolf yourself.’

  ‘I’m right, and you know it,’ Harlequin said. ‘And you don’t have to worry. Because there is one critical difference between sheepdogs and wolves. One thing that keeps us on the good side of the dividing line.’

  ‘Our snazzy haircuts?’

  ‘Regs. We obey the law. Selfers don’t. That’s the core. That’s everything.’

  Crucible opened his mouth to argue when the waitress finally approached the table. She was young, with New York hipster beauty that hinted at artistic aspirations beyond the walls of the wine bar – cat’s-eye glasses with leoprint frames, two-tone hair, an anchor tattooed on her tricep. ‘Hi, guys,’ she said. ‘Let me start by thanking you for your service to our country.’ Her voice wavered with excitement. Her eyes darted, looking away the moment Harlequin made eye contact.

  Harlequin would have registered such nervousness as an indicator of guilt of some kind, but he felt no magical current from her, and everyone treated him with the same heady mixture of amazement and fear.

  ‘It’s our honor, ma’am,’ Harlequin answered. Crucible smiled mildly.

  She grinned back, practically shaking, saying nothing.

  Crucible broke the awkward silence. ‘So . . . maybe we could get a couple of beers here?’

  ‘Oh, right!’ she squeaked. ‘Sorry. Uh, we actually don’t serve beer here. But we have some great wine selections.’

  Thorsson frowned. ‘I don’t know a damned thing about wine.’

  ‘Oh, that’s no problem. If you’re . . . new to it, I can pick something out for you.’

  ‘That’d be great,’ Crucible said. ‘White for me.’

  Harlequin nodded agreement. The waitress nodded back and didn’t move. The moment drew out.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s just that I never met real Sorcerers before. You guys are SOC, huh? What are you doing here?’

  ‘LE support, ma’am,’ Crucible said. ‘We help out your police department on arcane matters.’

  ‘So . . .’ she said slowly, ‘you guys, you know, track down Selfers?’

  Harlequin sighed inwardly. ‘When we have to, ma’am. It’s not our favorite part of the job.’ That was public affairs talking. Harlequin liked taking down Selfers just fine.

  ‘Still,’ she said. ‘That’s really . . . scary, you know?’

  ‘You get used to it,’ Harlequin said. The truth was, it was scary, but he’d found that was something you didn’t really notice until afterward.

  ‘So . . .’ Her pierced tongue darted out to lick her lips as she glanced at his school lapel pin. ‘You’re an . . . Aeromancer, right?’

  Harlequin nodded. He appreciated the attention, her big brown eyes and pert breasts straining her tight T-shirt. Her sense of style spoke of a person who broke rules even though he knew she was conforming to her own special set, but opposites attracted, and the appearance alone was powerfully erotic. But she wasn’t talking to Thorsson the man. She was getting close to the canine in her midst, excited as she overrode her sheep instincts and sniffed at it. He was sick of it already.

  ‘You can fly?’ she asked.

  Harlequin didn’t answer, but Crucible was grinning like a fool. ‘Sure, he can. Just got off duty with a navy squadron in Florida, didn’t you, Lieutenant?’

  Harlequin glared at him.

  ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘That is so amazing.’ She paused. When neither of them spoke, she pulled a scrap of paper from her skirt pocket. ‘Well, listen. I’ve always wanted to . . . you know . . . learn more about magic. Maybe we could hang out sometime. I’m sure you’ve got some awesome stories to tell.’ She set the scrap of paper down in front of Harlequin. Crucible looked down at his wedding ring, smiling fit to split his face.

  ‘And if you’re just out of Florida, I could show you around New York a bit. I know a lot of people shy away from you, but I’m not like that.’ She looked up at Harlequin again, working hard to hold his eyes, failing miserably, looking so frightened that he half expected her to pass out.

  ‘That’s very kind of you, ma’am,’ Harlequin said, making no move to pick the paper up. A phone number and e-mail address were scrawled below a name – ALICIA.

  ‘Okay!’ she said, paused awkwardly, then walked away.

  ‘Wow,’ Crucible said. ‘Somebody’s getting laid.’

  Harlequin snorted. ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Dude. I’m a happily married man, but if I was a swinging dick like you? Young, in shape, pretty blue eyes? I’d have gotten half the city pregnant by now. As your superior officer, I order you to go out with that girl.’

  ‘Hell, no. She’s not interested in me. She just wants to tell her friends she fucked a Sorcerer.’

  ‘You’re an idiot. Do you know how Sam and I fell in love?’

  Harlequin shrugged. ‘At a monster truck rally?’

  Crucible laughed. ‘Actually, that’s not far from the truth. But, no. We got drunk in a bar and hooked up. I think I’d spoken a total of five words to her before we were making out. We woke up next to one another and freaked out, wondered what we’d gotten ourselves into.’

  ‘So . . . your point is that you’re a man-whore.’

  ‘Yes. Wait, no. My point is that we just lived our lives and acted like human animals, and we kept waking up next to one another. We’ve been doing it for years now. And now we do it with our son in the next room. That’s how life happens, Jan. It’s not all regs. Sometimes, you have to let it unfold.’

  Harlequin frowned. ‘Magic changed that. You let stuff unfold, and people die.’

  Crucible shook his head. ‘You’re an idiot.’

  Harlequin shr
ugged again as a drink was set down in front of him. It was a tall, mixed drink, the kind that was served in a giant martini glass. Big, fancy. Expensive. ‘Um . . . this doesn’t look like wine . . .’ he said, confused, ‘and he needs one, too.’

  Alicia looked unhappy. ‘It’s for you. From the lady over there.’ She gestured to the far corner of the bar. A woman sat alone, in a black business suit that hugged a tight figure that rivaled Alicia’s.

  But that was where the resemblance ended. Where Alicia looked young and nervous, this woman was wise, confident. Her jet-black hair was cut in a short bob along her chin. Her dark eyes spoke of experience, command.

  She quirked a smile at Harlequin, raised a glass that matched the one just set before him.

  Alicia frowned and walked away, swishing her hips in a way she must have thought looked sensuous.

  ‘Holy crap,’ Crucible said, ignoring the waitress. ‘Dude. I’m dead serious. If you don’t go talk to this one, I really will bring you up on charges.’

  Harlequin nodded. His fatigue vanished. Her expression was fearless, looking at him with the naked anticipation of one person wanting to get to know another. After months of being treated like a zoo animal, that stirred him.

  ‘What about our meeting?’ Harlequin asked.

  ‘I’ll keep an eye out,’ Crucible said. ‘I’ll come break you off when it’s time. Speaking of which’ – he tapped his watch – ‘if you’re going to make any headway here, you better get moving. Go go go!’

  Harlequin nodded, picked up the ridiculous drink. The woman watched him as he made his way over, giving him the uncomfortable sensation that she was looking through his uniform. He felt the heat of that look wash through his body and was amazed to feel his cheeks redden. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had made him blush.

  He raised the drink, nearly spilling it on himself. ‘Much obliged, ma’am.’

  She snorted. ‘That’s what they called my mother. I’m Grace.’

  ‘Grace.’ He tried the name out. It fit her. He struggled to find something to say, failed. ‘Thanks for the drink.’