Rogue, Renegade And Rebel (In Her Paranormal Majesty’s Secret Service Book 1)

by Michael Anderle

  Jennie grabbed Rustin by the collar and held him an inch away from her face. “Who are ‘they?’ When’s it going to happen? What do you know?”

  Rustin stared at Jennie with glassy eyes as if accepting a fate he knew he couldn’t escape. “I am loyal. I am loyal to the crown.”

  Jennie shook him roughly. “How long?”

  “Two days. In two more days, we’ll—” In a flurry of movement, Rustin grabbed the Big Bitch from Jennie’s grasp. He turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger.

  A roaring boom sounded as pieces of the specter’s face flew at the wall behind. His head disappeared, leaving nothing by a stump on his neck.

  Jennie rubbed her temples and snatched the gun back from his weakened hands.

  Baxter exhaled. “That’s unfortunate.”.

  “Unfortunate?” Lupe cried. “He killed himself!”

  “Who did what?” Tank Top asked, finally finding the energy to move. “Man, fuck this shit. I’m outta here. Veronica! Boo! Grab your coat. We going to Big Mike’s!”

  “He ain’t dead,” Jennie told Lupe as she rose to her feet and examined the smoking barrel of the Big Bitch. “It takes more than ethereal bullets to kill specters.”

  Lupe was still shaken up by the sight. “But…but…”

  “He shot himself so he couldn’t talk,” Jennie informed him. “Admirable, really. That’s one way to stay faithful to those you’ve sworn your oath to.”

  “But we need him,” Lupe complained. “He has more information.”

  “No,” Jennie told him. “He’s given us all the information we need.”

  Baxter gave her an incredulous look.

  Red and blue lights appeared through the windows. Tank Top gave a dull moan and began throwing clothing into a suitcase.

  Jennie, on the other hand, ran with Lupe and Baxter down the stairwell and out the back door of the apartment as quickly as she could.

  Soon they had melted into the night.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Battery Park, New York City

  Jennie parked at the sidewalk, switched off the engine, and checked her phone. There was still no news on the girl at her apartment. No notification from Carolyn or Feng Mian.

  If that little girl doesn’t wake up soon, we’re going to have to resort to finding a prince to wake her with a kiss.

  She stepped out of the car with Lupe and Baxter following and walked out onto the grass verge. They made their way to the rail that kept civilians from falling into the Hudson River.

  The wind had teeth and bit their flesh, but other than that, the night was calm. A smattering of clouds floated lazily overhead, and the brightest stars winked to light their way.

  Jennie hadn’t expected to see anything when she looked skyward, considering the amount of light pollution the city cast. It was the same as in London. If she ever had the opportunity to travel out into the countryside—Devonshire or Cornwall, in particular—she could really see what the sky should look like. More like an extract of sheetrock glimmering with dazzling minerals rather than a sheet of black paper with a couple of white spots painted crudely on its front.

  “You going to finally tell us why we’re here?” Baxter asked as he leaned his elbows on the rail and stared over the inky water. “Seems we’re traveling all over the city today.”

  “You’ve got to go where the action is,” Jennie replied.

  Lupe scanned around them; eyes narrowed as if he was expecting a load of specters to jump out at any moment. Pretty much every moment he had been with Jennie had been a whirlwind, and now this quiet was unsettling.

  “Are they here?” Lupe asked. “The machine. Is it here?”

  Jennie closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the air. She’d forgotten how much she relished the quiet. Other than a few New Yorkers wandering around the lamplit streets nearby, they were far from the hustle and bustle of the late-night activity.

  “Jennie?” Lupe nudged.

  Jennie pointed ahead to where the Statue of Liberty was aglow under dazzling spotlights. Across the water, she stood tall and proud. A monolithic reminder of every ounce of freedom the island stood upon.

  The irony didn’t go unnoticed by Jennie.

  During the day, the Statue of Liberty was visited by over ten thousand tourists, all fighting to grab a glance from afar, take the ferry over to the island, and climb the three hundred stairs into the crown.

  But at night…

  Nighttime was a different matter. The island was closed to the public and the statue stood empty, a hollowed-out husk of stone and symbolic craftsmanship.

  “Rustin gave us more information than he meant for us to have,” Jennie told them at last, her eyes fixed on the highest part of the statue—Lady Liberty’s torch. “Think about it: ‘The flame is lit.’ ‘Freedom for the queen.’ His speech was soaked in symbolism. And where else would a group of specters go to plan and build a revolution than the very monument that stands as a symbol for America’s freedom?”

  “It’s genius,” Baxter admitted. “It’s off the main island, away from prying eyes, and it’s also in plain sight, so it is the last place people would think to look.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Jennie chuckled. “I could be wrong.”

  “Do you think you are?” Lupe asked.

  Jennie considered, then slowly shook her head. “No. No, I don’t.”

  Baxter clapped his hands. “Okay, then. Let’s piss on the ants’ nest and flush those bitches out again.”

  The Plaza, New York City

  “I’m bored.” Carolyn sat upside down on the armchair, her head dangling inches from the floor and her legs up and over the back. Outside, the world was black, and inside, the world was dull.

  Feng Mian sat silently on the chair beside hers. His back was straight, his hands rested gently on his thighs, and his eyes were fixed on the girl.

  She hadn’t moved a muscle since the others had left the apartment. She’d barely made any noise. The only movement which indicated there was any life had been her eyelids fluttering as she dreamed deeply in her stasis.

  Carolyn slid onto the floor. Her head briefly dipped beneath the floorboards before she regained her control and lifted herself back up.

  Life really had been a challenge as a new specter. Not only had she been forced to leave her world behind, including her possessions and her loved ones, but now she had to get used to controlling her abilities, too?

  Learning to navigate her spectral body was a challenge almost every second she was awake. She’d thought it would be easy. Simply focus on remaining material, and she could exist as any other person on the planet. Although, instead of being alive and warm, she’d be cold and dead.

  And now, just a week into her spectral life, she was being used as a glorified babysitter by a mortal who harnessed powers beyond description. Sitting in an apartment filled with her favorite things—alcohol, chocolate, plush comfy beds—which she could barely take advantage of. Her only company was an ancient Chinese specter who had said so few words since she had met him that she could count them on one hand.

  Zero.

  Carolyn pushed herself to her feet, then slumped back in the chair. She folded her legs beneath her and stared at Feng Mian. “You know, my friend Shelley used to love the strong, silent types. If you want, I can hook you up with her? She’s not bad to look at. Maybe a little extra cushion around the waistline, but you wouldn’t kick her out of bed.”

  Feng Mian continued to stare at the girl. It was as if he hadn’t even heard Carolyn speak.

  “You don’t have to take everything Jennie says so literally,” she complained. “When she said ‘keep an eye on her,’ it was more a case of making sure she didn’t disappear or die on our watch.” She touched her chin. “Okay, maybe ‘die’ wasn’t the right word.”

  Silence.

  Carolyn rolled her eyes and strolled around the apartment. It was everything she could ever have dreamed of during her days of walkin
g through Central Park and seeing the building looming over the tops of the trees.

  She had been a dog-walker in life. While Cody, her boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend—had been gunning for a full-time spot at a local law firm after completion of his internship, Carolyn’s days had been considerably different.

  Each morning Carolyn would take her four clients’ dogs—a grand total of eight leashes grasped and a variety of dogs including a Schnauzer, a Labrador, and several Yorkshire terriers—out into the park and let them pull her around the loops and coils of the park’s paths.

  It had actually been late morning after returning her clients’ dogs to their respective homes, that she had made to cross the road and heard the squealing of tires. The car was a Mazda 2, and the driver was more interested in changing the episode of his favorite podcast than obeying the stoplights.

  Carolyn didn’t remember the crash. She only remembered looking longingly at the white stone of the Plaza towering above her, dreaming of what it would be like to stay for just one day in that hotel. Praying Cody would make the cut and earn the money to eventually make her dreams come true.

  Now she wandered around the apartment with wonder in her eyes. The main living space was huge, with black marble countertops in the kitchen and a TV larger than any she’d seen in a house.

  There was a bathroom, complete with a jacuzzi tub, and a number of bedrooms. A large oak desk sat in front of the paneled glass window, set up and ready for a high-earning hipster to set up their laptop and work while looking over the heart of the city.

  Man, and there I thought I was living it large when I could finally afford a Fitbit.

  She explored every inch of the apartment, peeking into cupboards, playing with taps and the shower. She laughed as she went, imagining what it would look like if a maid came in and saw her. How she’d scream and flee from the room, wondering what kind of spectral force was haunting the room.

  In the second-largest bedroom was a stack of books piled high on a side table. There were also coffee-making facilities and chocolates.

  These she stared at, salivating. She’d tried a couple of times to eat one. She couldn’t understand why she was material enough to lift, touch, and interact with the physical environment, but death had cheated her of taste buds and functioning organs.

  The golden wrapper floated to the floor, and she placed the wafer-thin chocolate between her lips and flicked it with her tongue. She clamped it between her teeth and broke it into two pieces. She tried to swallow, but the block fell straight through her body, as tasteless as freshly dried concrete.

  In a fit of frustration, she marched into the living area. She picked up the yellow drink Jennie had left in three of the glasses and poured one into her mouth. The liquid fell straight through her and splattered on the floor.

  She tried the next, then the next. Not a single drop of flavor on her tongue.

  She picked up the glasses and threw them against the refrigerator. Glass shards rained down across the floor and glittered like stars under the LED spotlights on the ceiling.

  Carolyn stood and breathed deeply. Her shoulders hunched over as if she’d just come back from a run and was regaining her breath.

  “You hurt?” Feng Mian spoke with a thick Chinese accent. His voice was soft and nurturing, although when she looked at him, there was a steeliness to his gaze.

  “Now you talk?”

  Feng Mian shrugged, then turned back to the girl.

  “No, no, no…” Carolyn urged, running over and taking the seat beside him. She pulled it around until she was in front of his line of sight and placed a hand on his. “Don’t go silent again now. I think I’ll go crazy if you go back to your duty.”

  “Rogue asks us to watch.” Each word was labored, as though every syllable was carefully considered and chosen. “We must do as she wants.”

  Feng Mian’s eyes flickered to Carolyn’s, then back to the girl.

  Carolyn ran a hand through her hair, able now to smell a strong scent of lemon in the air from the cocktail on the floor.

  Why? Why do they strip you of taste but not the other four senses?

  Her face reddened. Now that she was calming down, the whole thing seemed silly. Had she really gotten this mad because she had failed to eat a chocolate?

  “You are sad,” Feng Mian commented, his eyes on Carolyn’s again.

  “No. I’m not sad,” she replied. “I’m angry. They’re two completely different things.”

  Feng Mian nodded. “Yet, one does not exist without the other.”

  Carolyn’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sad, okay? I’m pissed off because I should be at my own home in my own bed right now. I should be snuggled in my silk pajamas, lying next to Cody and dreaming of the life we were going to share together.”

  She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m pissed because I should be waking up in the morning and kissing him goodbye, wondering how his day is going to go before he’s left, tying my shoelaces to take the dogs for a walk and thinking about what I’m going to do with my life. Maybe call my Mom and arrange a shopping trip. I should be worrying about how we’re going to afford Christmas presents, how long it’ll be before my sister and her fiancé finally choose a date. I should be debating about finishing the last cookie in the packet and missing the last few minutes of Desperate Housewives.”

  Feng Mian watched her rant in silence.

  Carolyn slapped the arm of the chair in frustration. “I should be living life the same as any twenty-four-year-old does, but instead, I’ve been dumped into a world of ghosts and forced to align myself with a faction. Now I can’t even eat fucking chocolate, because, for some goddamn reason, specters don’t have taste buds!”

  Carolyn hadn’t been aware she had gripped the arms of the sofa so tight her nails threatened to puncture the material. Now she released her grasp and let the spectral tears fall down her cheeks.

  Feng Mian reached over and wiped away a tear with his finger. He examined the wet mark as though he were a biologist examining a creature he had never encountered before.

  “Sadness,” he repeated simply.

  Despite herself, Carolyn chuckled. “Fine. I’ll give you that one. Maybe I am sad.”

  “Life moves beyond death,” Feng Mian told her. “All things move on. Even death has an ending.”

  Carolyn examined Feng Mian with glassy eyes. “But how do I move on? How do I immerse myself in this life? Sure, I’m now bound to the Plane, but I don’t know anything about spectral life. I don’t know anything about this body I live in. What do I do to move on?”

  Feng Mian sat in silence for a while.

  Carolyn waited patiently, wondering once again if he had even heard her. Just at the point where she was ready to give him another nudge, he spoke.

  “I’ll teach you.”

  They hadn’t been the words Carolyn was expecting. This elderly Chinese man who seemed to focus on nothing more than the job at hand would make an unlikely mentor. Yet, she knew she needed friends around her and people willing to help if she was going to make the best out of the situation she was in. “You will?”

  Feng Mian nodded. “Yes. I’ll show you how to work your abilities.”

  Carolyn let out a relieved laugh and dived at Feng Mian, arms ready to embrace him. When she reached him, she melted straight through his body and came out on the other side of the chair.

  “No hugs,” Feng Mian muttered. “Americans and their touchy-feely culture.”

  Carolyn chuckled and picked herself up off the floor. “Fine.”

  Undeterred, she came up behind Feng Mian for the sneak attack and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “There. I win.”

  Feng Mian nodded, the ghost of a smile curling his lips. “This round.”

  “So, when do we start? Can you teach me to control my immaterial…” She couldn’t think of the right word. “’Ness?”

  “I will teach you that,” Feng Mian told her. “I will teach you to fight. I will teach you patience and hono
r and sticking to a task at hand.”

  “Great!” Carolyn jumped excitedly on the spot. “When can we start?”

  Feng Mian’s ears pricked up. “Now. The enemy is outside the door. They are trying to get in.”

  Sure enough, not two seconds later, several specters burst through the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Liberty Island, New York City

  The craft was little more than a rowboat, a tiny wooden thing Jennie cut loose from the docks and rowed across the river with Lupe’s help.

  The water was choppier than expected. Small waves kept the boat bobbing unevenly. Fractures of light from the night sky caught the tops of the crests like silver fishes, and soon the river was behind them.

  They docked their boat, and Jennie took her first steps upon an island she had only visited in photographs and dreams. The statue loomed over her, proud and tall. She had always wondered about the architects of such creation, imagining how something so large could have been erected and kept in one piece against a multitude of storms and weather patterns.

  Baxter watched Jennie’s marveling face. “She sure is pretty, isn’t she?”

  Jennie nodded, steeled herself, and headed toward the entrance.

  The doors were locked. Of course, they were. Jennie had expected nothing less.

  Jennie latched on to Baxter and felt herself become immaterial, and soon she was through the door She stared at the lock from the inside, figuring the best way to gain access for Lupe who stood patiently outside.

  “You need a key,” Baxter told her after a swift examination.

  Jennie chuckled. “No shit, Sherlock.”

  Baxter looked behind them and listened. “Maybe there’s a guard on duty? Someone with keys we can distract?”

  Jennie wasn’t paying attention. She now crouched by the door and rattled the locks, listening to the sound of the mechanism and working out the best way forward.

  She reached into the small pockets lining her waist and withdrew a small vial. Jennie unscrewed the top, then recoiled. The liquid inside was shocking pink.