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

by Michael Anderle

  Jennie and Baxter burst out laughing.

  Tanya looked perplexed. “What? What happened?”

  Jennie smirked. “It’s best you don’t know.” She turned her attention to the cloaked figures standing behind Tanya. “If you’d follow me? I’ve got another job for you all, and this is a big one.”

  One of the figures sighed and lowered his hood. It was the sandy-haired man who had complained at the museum, whom Jennie had learned from Tanya was called Tom. “It’s not fetching more booze, is it?”

  Jennie considered this. “Not exactly, although it does have to do with potions.” She laughed at Tom’s perplexed look. “I’ll explain it all, but time is against you. Come on."

  The Empire State Building, New York City

  Worthington’s hands were shaking. The cell phone he had acquired the week prior to keep in touch with Her Majesty was reduced to fractured and broken components on the floor.

  How had she known?

  Wasn’t it obvious? They had told her.

  Rage boiled inside Worthington. His nostrils flared, and he hadn’t blinked in several minutes. Thoughts raced through his head as he contemplated what this would mean for him and for his reputation.

  The last time he had been screamed at on the phone, he had been alive. He had almost forgotten what being reprimanded felt like. The embarrassment flamed up his ears and caused him to tremble. Her majesty’s voice had grown hoarse, her contempt lacing every syllable. She was angry, and now he was, too.

  “Everything okay?”

  Worthington looked up and saw Rico.

  His head hovered just through the door. He looked warily at Worthington, as though he was placing his head inside a hornet’s nest.

  Worthington stared at him, causing Rico to shrink back. He took a steadying breath but found that nothing could dampen the menagerie of thoughts running rampant in his mind. “We. Cannot. Fail.” Each word was an effort. “No. Matter. What. Happens. We. Crush. Them. All.”

  Rico gave an enthusiastic nod. “I don’t know if this helps you, but I’ve got some good news.”

  Worthington looked at Rico as though he had said something foreign. As though the very idea of “good news” at this point was ridiculous. “Yes?”

  “The girl,” Rico clarified. “She’s showing signs of waking up.”

  Worthington gave a small nod that he had acknowledged Rico’s words, but his demeanor did not change. Could the girl be a small glimmer of hope for his cause? With the queen on full alert to what he was doing, he’d have to pull out all the stops to claw his way back into her good books.

  He had lied. To the queen.

  Had she been ignorant, he might have returned home to a chorus of cheers, been showered in gold, and would finally have nudged that prick Porter from her side.

  But if he failed now, he would be a laughingstock. He wouldn’t last five minutes before the queen called upon her personal exorcist to send him into the abyss.

  Even if he did return victorious, the entire campaign was besmirched by Genevieve-Bedamned-King. There would always be a dark cloud looming over his reputation.

  His eyes narrowed. Everything he wanted now rode on destroying the Spectral Plane and discovering the secret of the girl in his chambers.

  “Show her to me,” he snarled at Rico.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Lenox Hill, New York City

  Jennie’s Mustang hummed as she cruised over the Brooklyn Bridge on their return to New York City. Traffic was lighter than usual, and whether or not she was imagining it, the city felt muted in anticipation of what was to come.

  She noticed a distinct lack of spectral activity as she drove along the streets. Not that there had been an overwhelming amount before, but at least when navigating the grid roads of the city before she had seen a few specters along their way.

  Now, there was none to be seen anywhere.

  They arrived at Hendrick’s shop in the late afternoon. The street was quiet, but the shop was empty.

  “How does he keep himself afloat?” Baxter asked quietly. “It doesn’t exactly look like he makes a roaring trade.”

  “That’s the thing with alchemy,” Jennie told him. “You don’t need to sell to the masses. You just need a select clientele who know the value of what they’re buying. Most of these potions and concoctions cost a pretty penny, so it’s quality over quantity.”

  “How much are we talking here?” Baxter inquired.

  Jennie thought. “Let’s just say a vial of the energy elixir would likely pay for several months of living in a posh apartment.”

  Baxter’s jaw dropped. “Follow-up question?”

  “No.” Jennie grinned as she opened the door and entered.

  Hendrick was nowhere in sight at the main end of the shop, which didn’t surprise Jennie too much. With little or no regular business, it was unlikely he’d be needed to keep an eye on customers and ensure they didn’t steal anything.

  They heard the alchemist moving around in the back and found him looking as flustered as an old man could look.

  “You’re early,” Hendrick complained. “It isn’t ready, yet.”

  “You know I’m always early,” Jennie replied. “The amount of time I’ve saved over the years by arriving early and getting business done faster than predicted has been remarkable. You should try it sometime.” She stuck her tongue out at the old man.

  “I pride myself on my punctuality, but this is a tall order even for me,” Hendrick told her, eyes not moving from his work as he held up flasks and dropped quantities into various vials and jugs. “And you need all of this for an attack that’s going to happen later?”

  Jennie nodded. “Without this, I’m afraid that we may find ourselves in a mess when the time comes.”

  Hendrick nodded. “Very well. Please, allow me the additional time you had set.”

  Jennie hopped onto a rare empty section of the counter and took a seat. “No problem. I’ll just sit here with Baxter and watch the master at work.”

  “Baxter? Ah, the specter you brought with you last time. Excellent, excellent.”

  Jennie and Baxter sat side by side and discussed the looming battle while Hendrick busied himself with his work. Baxter expressed his concerns with a few groups of specters who preferred the idea of a pacifistic approach. Idealists who didn’t understand the situation, but ultimately seemed confident in what lay ahead.

  Jennie remained tight-lipped on many aspects of the operation. He could see it in her eyes that her trust issues ran deep. Even though Baxter had proven his loyalty beyond any doubt since he had met Jennie, she withheld a lot of information.

  Baxter wondered how long it would be before those issues were remedied. If, perhaps, they’d ever be remedied. From what he’d heard, Jennie had spent years and years working solo and refusing to grow close relationships with anyone. Close relationships equaled vulnerability, and that was something she couldn’t allow in her line of work.

  How many years would it take to undo it all? That was the real question. Could Baxter win her over and prove he was trustworthy? He wasn’t sure what it was about her, but he believed in what she stood for. Despite all the mess the paranormal court had created, Jennie’s morals lay with freedom, hope, and fighting in the name of justice.

  That was someone he could definitely get behind.

  Figuratively speaking, of course.

  Small clouds of controlled smoke puffed from the glasses as the final ingredients were mixed. A vial was placed over an open flame, and finally Hendrick was finished.

  Jennie tapped her wrist. “You’re late.”

  Hendrick shuffled over to the far counter and picked up a dirty old rag. He dabbed his forehead, where beads of sweat had collected like condensation on a frosty window. He pointed the corner of the room at a clock with artfully exposed gears and cogs and shook his head. “Two minutes.”

  Jennie smirked. “Late is late.”

  “You asked for the impossible.”


  “Yet, you delivered.”

  “You’re not the only one with magic.” Hendrick carefully picked up a bulbous glass beaker with a long funnel. Inside the beaker, pale blue liquid sloshed delicately under his controlled steps. He handed Jennie the beaker.

  She shook her head. “You really think I can carry that inconspicuously into battle?”

  “I don’t care what you do with it,” Hendrick retorted. “Take your product and give me my money.”

  Jennie laughed. Although his words were harsh, there was a gentle edge to them. She remembered a long-gone past in which the pair would rib each other in Yungheim’s workshop, finding ways to wind the old alchemist up as he worked. “I’m not taking the product without some way to conceal what’s inside. I’m already going to be their sole target in battle. What are they going to do when I turn up with a massive beaker of an unknown substance? What about the mortal police? Do you think they’ll let me wander around New York with a mysterious substance?”

  Hendrick stared long and hard at Jennie before sighing. “Fine.” He shuffled over to a nearby cupboard and withdrew a handful of small vials.

  He passed them to Jenny, who put them in one of the bags she had brought with them from the Spectral Plane’s trip to gather cocktail ingredients.

  Hendrick’s not the only alchemist in New York City.

  “You’ve done your city a real service,” Jennie told Hendrick, theatrically bowing to the ground. “We will thank you when the war is done.”

  “The war?” Hendrick echoed. “So, there definitely is a war to worry about?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about until you’re dead.” She paused, studied Hendrick, then added, “Give it a year or so.”

  Hendrick laughed and ushered them out.

  The countdown was rushing by faster than Jennie liked. Had it really already been over half a day since Camo had delivered the news of their trial by fire?

  The city was bustling, blissfully unaware of what was to come. Would they ever find out what was going to transpire in Times Square that night? She imagined so, considering she would be a part of it all. Sometimes the living and the dead had to team up to have the impact required to emerge victorious.

  They drove down Fifth Avenue and onto Forty-Fourth Street. Traffic moved steadily along as they made their way toward Times Square. Jennie was eager to get a sweep of the arena before nightfall to check that their call to Mama Queeny hadn’t caused Worthington to move the time of their conflict forward.

  “He wouldn’t,” Baxter assured Jennie, although his words were muffled because he had his head shoved inside the glove compartment, checking out the wiring and electrics.

  Jenny grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “I can’t understand a word you say when you go full nerd mode.”

  Baxter cleared his throat. “He wouldn’t start anything early. He needs us to come to him. He doesn’t know where the Plane specters are.”

  Jennie saw the sense in that reasoning. “What if he’s getting nervous? What if he chooses to sweep the city? Who knows how many specters are on their side?”

  “Do you think that’s what he’ll do?” Baxter asked.

  Jennie chewed her lip. “The truth is, I don’t know what he’ll do. I’ve dealt with some funny specters in the past—and not ‘ha-ha’ funny, either—and I’ve never come across this before. Maybe he’s just on an ego trip. Maybe he’s scared. Whatever is going through his head, all I know is that he’s dangerous. Having an egomaniac try and take the helm in a place as independent as New York City, that’s a dangerous situation.”

  They continued straight ahead at the Sixth Avenue junction, and already the traffic was beginning to increase.

  How could anyone make a living from driving around this city?

  “What are you going to do when you find him?” Baxter asked, turning his full attention to Jennie. “Worthington, I mean.”

  Jennie’s hands involuntarily tightened on the wheel. “I don’t know. Anyone willing to fan the flames of conflict as big as this? Well, that calls for a removal from this world.”

  A small gasp came from Baxter. “You’re talking exorcism, aren’t you?”

  A pained expression came over Jennie’s face.

  “What is it?” Baxter asked. “You can exorcise specters, can’t you? I saw it with my own eyes. The Messino brothers.”

  “I don’t know how I did it.” The words physically hurt Jennie as she said them. Years had passed since she had learned that admitting to her vulnerabilities was her biggest weakness. Yet she needed to tell someone, and Baxter was as good a person as any she’d met in a long time.

  Baxter’s eyes widened with surprise. “But you seemed so confident. The brothers were banished by your words. Under your…power.”

  Jennie’s face hardened as she glanced at the people they passed on the sidewalk. Many of them turned to stare at the sleek black Mustang driving past, along with a few older men whose gaze lingered on the pretty redhead in the driver’s seat.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” Jennie admitted. “Exorcism is a skill that requires a lot of practice. The queen has people who are able to perform an exorcism, but it takes a real surge of emotion and passion to produce. I’ve tried many times up until now to exorcise scumbags, and it has never worked.”

  Baxter contemplated that. He had heard rumor of the power of exorcisms but had never witnessed one firsthand. He remembered the giant orb of light that had appeared in Jennie’s hands and the surge of power that had gone with it.

  “The betrayal?” he suggested.

  “It had to be,” Jennie replied as the lights turned green and the Mustang purred into motion. “I’d never felt such rage before. Such injustice in the world! Do you know what it was like to see those two again? To know that two shit-heaps you’d once scourged from life were now not only back in action, but were supported by the person you serve?”

  Baxter shook his head. “Must have been a real kick in the face.”

  Jennie barked a cold laugh. “A kick in the face, a punch in the crotch, a sledgehammer to the heart. You name it, that’s what it was.”

  “So, use that energy,” Baxter told her. “If you’ve got it inside you, and if you could do it once, you should be able to do it again.”

  Jennie hesitated. She wanted to feel Baxter’s enthusiasm, but she couldn’t. “Back in that theater, my emotions were at the very surface of my skin. Every inch of hate and rage and frustration at the injustice boiled within me. I’m still pissed off, but the initial shock has gone away. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it back.”

  Baxter waved a hand and exhaled. “Oh, I’m sure Worthington will find another way to piss you off before this is all over. He seems to have a knack for it.”

  Jennie allowed herself a smile. “You’re probably right,” she agreed, not letting Baxter see the doubt plaguing her mind.

  They eventually emerged into Times Square. The place was as busy as ever, and it took Jennie and Baxter almost half an hour to circle the landmark and make their way back to Red Hook.

  There were no signs of specters that she could see: no ghostly figures, no suspicious-looking ghouls or poltergeists.

  By all accounts for the mortals, it was just another day in the city.

  Jennie, however, knew very, very differently.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The Empire State Building, New York City

  The girl was stirring. Her eyelids fluttered as she fidgeted. Minuscule movements which indicated at least some kind of activity within her.

  Still, she was not awake.

  “What is this, Sleeping-fucking-Beauty?” Worthington asked, feeling his frustration crank up a notch.

  Rico withered under his glare. “She showed signs of waking. We thought she…”

  Worthington’s hand flew out from his side and back-handed Rico across the face.

  The other specters gathered around shrank back as Rico’s hand moved to his cheek, his spectral glow pul
sing as he phased in and out of his invisibility mode.

  Worthington held his hand in the position it had met Rico’s face, his eyes boring into the specter’s. A tiny part of him felt guilt at the strike. He’d never outright slapped someone in his life, but the other part of him—that hungry, terrified part that had been driving him since he had found out that the queen knew what he’d done—the part that made him work his ass off to reunite the scattered loyalists and gather both parties to the Empire State building in the hope he could salvage his place. That part of him didn’t care.

  That part of him actually liked it.

  Having been the specter always acting as the perfect role model, the one who had always obeyed on the off-chance he might be shown the slightest modicum of gratitude, it felt nice to be able to bend the rules for once.

  What was Rico going to do, really? What could he do when Worthington had almost a thousand specters at his beck and call?

  The word had spread faster than he had imagined it would, and hundreds of specters had rallied from their hiding places to unite on behalf of the queen.

  “For Queen and country!” had been his rallying call. It didn’t even matter that America didn’t fall under British rule in the mortal world. The spectral world had its own rules.

  “You told me she was waking up.” Worthington scowled. “Why bother wasting my time on false promises?”

  Rico’s eyes darted to the specters gathered around them. He paused a moment as if deciding whether it was worth retaliating. He still had his Tommy gun, and that could do some damage. But was it worth trying his luck?

  Rico continued to pulse in and out of sight. His power was somehow linked to his emotions.

  Worthington eyed him curiously, his gaze switching back and forth between Rico and the girl. “Your power,” he mused. “How is it that no other specter among us has the ability you have?”

  Rico shrugged, unable to hide the contempt from his face. “I don’t know. Born with it, I guess.”