Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Science Fiction and Fantasy Novels

by White, Gwynn

  “Ugh, the cots.” Jeanine wrinkled her nose at the very idea.

  “Your objection has been noted and overruled. The cots it is.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  They were just starting to embrace the idea of an office sleepover when who should come barreling through the door and down the steps like a tempest in a teacup but their illustrious mayor himself. On the best of days, Dolan was a ball of tightly focused, anxious energy, a dynamo unto himself. On the worst of days, though, that energy had a tendency to go off-balance and get the better of him. It was his greatest asset, but also an albatross just waiting to drop around his neck. Today being one of the worst of his entire tenure, he was definitely starting to feel the heavy weight bearing down on him.

  “Can you believe this crap?” Dolan bellowed as he tromped down the stairs. “Those sons of bitches pulled an end-around on me! Now, I have to join their call for unity or look like I’m over here with my ass hanging in the breeze!”

  Cato said nothing—the position of his desk tended to draw the eye of visitors as they came down the stairs, just as he’d intended—and instead glanced across the room to Jeanine. The implication was clear.

  “Oh, hello, Jeanine.” Dolan cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, though it didn’t need it. “My apologies for the language.”

  Jeanine snorted. “Please, don’t bother. I hear worse from Uncle Ryen day in and day out.”

  “Yeah, but it’s my office,” Cato said.”

  “Our office,” Hank corrected.

  “Would you like some coffee, Mayor Zobbles?” Jeanine offered.

  “No, thank you, Jeanine.” He smiled and looked to Cato, about to speak; then a thought seemed to occur to him. “Cato, would you mind if I borrowed Jeanine for a bit? I have a special assignment for her.”

  “Really?” Jeanine’s eyes went spotlight-wide, dilating with excitement. “A special assignment? For me? What is it?”

  “Ahem,” Cato said, checking Jeanine’s enthusiasm before directing the next bit to Dolan. “That depends. What do you need her for?”

  “Ann’s insisting that she’s not out of the fight, even from her hospital bed. I’m not about to argue with her—the woman frightens me, quite frankly—so I agreed to find someone who could relay her orders and observations to the troops in the field. PWD is already stretched to the limit, so I thought perhaps Jeanine would be an ideal candidate, given her and Ann’s relationship.”

  Jeanine looked as if she was about to explode with excitement. To her credit, she didn’t beg or plead or play any of the cards that Cato might have expected. Perhaps it was the significance of the task, the weight of it, that encouraged that response. Perhaps it was the chance to work closely with her personal hero—Cato was under no delusions on that count—and help the city she called home. Either way, he didn’t feel it was his place to deny her such an important opportunity. She was far too talented to be an office manager her whole life, even if it was the safest option for her.

  As if to confirm his assessment, Jeanine mouthed the words, “I can do this.”

  Cato nodded. To her, and to Dolan. “Promise me she won’t be in the field.”

  “She won’t be in the field; you have my word. We’re having a mobile radio unit set up in Ann’s room as we speak. Everything can be handled on site.”

  What else was there to say? “Better grab your stuff. I expect Ann is already squirming with anticipation.”

  “How am I getting there?” Jeanine asked, practically falling all over herself to grab her bag and other vital items.

  “My driver is waiting outside. He’ll take you straight there.”

  “Thank you so much, Mayor Zobbles. I won’t let you down.” With a formal nod to Cato, Jeanine added, “You either, Uncle Ryen.”

  Cato and Dolan traded glances. The mayor seemed to defer, so Cato said simply, “We know you won’t.” A beat passed with no action on her part and he added, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  She was gone that quickly, the stairs shaking with the memory of her hurried steps.

  “All right,” Cato said once it was just the three of them. “What’s got you all in a twist?”

  Dolan looked completely dumbfounded. “You haven’t heard? Gragos and Erastes announced a call for unity. They’re basically insinuating that my administration organized the attacks or is complicit with them!”

  “Fucking hell,” Cato said. “Seriously?”

  With a theatrical flourish—politicians, Cato thought—Dolan produced a printed transcript from his jacket’s interior pocket. He tossed it onto Cato’s desk, the folded sheaf flopping open awkwardly. Hank made the trek across the office to read over Cato’s shoulder.

  “Boy, they didn’t hold back, did they?” Cato said.

  Hank stepped back with a shake of his head, concurring. “Brutal.”

  “Exactly. And, while we’re on the subject, it’s not helping with you two going out and staging unsanctioned roadblocks.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Cato said, and for once he wasn’t blowing smoke.

  Hank raised his hand, a little too happy to take the heat. “That was me.”

  “Seriously?” Cato and Zobbles said in unison.

  “Yup. Rolled a cement mixer in front of the southside tunnel to Tanglereave, caught Kaboc and his money convoy by surprise. Had a nice little chat right there on the street.”

  “Nice,” Cato said. “Well done.”

  “No! Not nice or well done,” the mayor blurted. “This is what I’m talking about.”

  “Hey, in Hank’s defense, Kaboc had been dodging his interview all day.”

  “Damn it, damn it, damn it. You two were supposed to make this shit go away, not multiply it!”

  Cato and Hank exchanged a glance, neither of them willing to jump on that grenade for the other. Not that it mattered. Zobbles was too worked up, anyway.

  “Okay! So, that’s it, then! I have to call their bluff. Come on, let’s go.”

  “What?” Cato crossed his brows, the weight of the day dropping hard upon his shoulders. “Where? Where are we going?”

  “Faust’s Bargain, and right now.” With that, Dolan turned and started hiking up the stairs. He stopped halfway up and looked down at Cato and Hank expectantly. “Well? Come on, already! I sent my driver off with your niece, and you two are my security detail anyway.”

  Cato and Smiley took one last look at each other, shrugged, and hiked up the steps after their mayor. Duty called, after all.

  13

  Cato drove, the roadster bouncing and jogging along Meridia’s roughly fashioned back roads. Word of the impromptu unity rally had already gotten out thanks to the fourth estate, with legitimate journalists and shock jocks alike waiting with bated breath for anything of substance to be said. Whether or not the leaked news was by design or not, Cato couldn’t say. Above his pay grade.

  He flicked his eyes up to the rearview, observing their charge in the backseat. Zobbles didn’t seem too worked up over it, at least no more than he had been when he stormed into their office.

  Cato reached over and turned off the radio.

  They rode in silence for several minutes. Finally, Dolan spoke up. “You two are quieter than usual tonight. Usually, you’re going at each other like cats and dogs. Is there something I should know?”

  Hank glanced back over his shoulder, between the front seats, and shook his head. “No, sir. Just trying to make sense of everything that’s gone on the last day or so. There are a lot of moving pieces to this thing.”

  “Ah,” Dolan said flatly. After another quiet beat, he added, “That, there are.”

  “Speaking of unusual,” Cato said, glancing back into the rearview again. “Don’t you usually roll with more of an entourage than a single driver and no security? What gives?”

  “Hank and I had a conversation at the hospital when I went to check on Ann. He advised that I keep a lower profile, so that’s what I’m trying to do. Not draw too muc
h attention to myself.”

  Cato nodded, sparing a glance to the passenger seat and the man occupying it. “Sound advice.”

  “You sound surprised,” Hank said.

  “Not at all. That’s just the type of savvy I was looking for in a partner.”

  Dolan eyed the exchange from the backseat, his discomfort becoming increasingly evident. “Yeah, well, savvy or not, if this whole ‘call for unity’ thing doesn’t work out, we’re going to have to seriously revisit the martial law discussion.”

  Hank winced visibly beside Cato.

  “Martial law discussion?” Cato asked tightly. “You forget to mention something, partner?”

  Clearing his throat, Hank said, “I, ah—I guess with everything else going on, it sort of slipped my mind. You know how it goes.”

  Oh, how the tables had turned.

  “It was at the hospital earlier,” Dolan said. “Hank and Ann talked me out of it at the time, but we’re rapidly running out of options to stop the bleeding.”

  “Martial law isn’t going to stop anything but our investigation dead in its tracks.”

  Dolan sighed heavily. Wearily. “Look, Cato, I understand that martial law presents some challenges—”

  “Let me tell you what’s going to happen when you institute martial law,” Cato said, interrupting. “The hitters will go to ground before the first roadblock or checkpoint ever goes up. They’ll scatter, and whoever is sponsoring them will likely already have arrangements in place to smuggle them out of the city. Meanwhile, Hank and I will be stumbling around with our dicks in our hands, showing our badges every few blocks, telegraphing our every move and intention. Any momentum, any progress we made today, will be erased. You won’t figure out who’s behind the attacks, you’ll lose the election, we’ll lose our jobs, then the moment the next guy lifts the roadblocks and curfews—boom!—it will start up all over again, and the city and everyone in it will be right back to square one. No, screw that—square zero.”

  Silence reigned in the roadster as Cato finished his soliloquy. The only other sound was the hum of the tires against the road and the rumble of the roadster itself as it rolled along unabated.

  Finally, Dolan spoke. “I appreciate your position, Cato. That, and your passion. But, believe it or not, I’m not so vain that I can accept the deaths of hundreds of my fellow citizens as the price of my office. At the moment, I’m open to any solution that stops the attacks and gives this city room to breathe. If, in my capacity as mayor, I decide martial law is that solution, I will not hesitate to institute it. Your input is valued, but let’s not forget who’s driving whom here.”

  Cato spoke through gritted teeth as he said, “Point taken, Mr. Mayor.”

  Dolan sat back in his seat, apparently satisfied with the conversation’s resolution.

  Cato, on the other hand, was anything but. Gripping the steering wheel hard, he reminded himself that nothing had been decided. He and Hank still had time. That, and there was always the possibility that the call for unity might actually slow the bloodshed, as Dolan had said. Hell, someone might even be inspired to come forward with a vital tip or confession. It was highly unlikely, but stranger things had happened in Meridia.

  Whatever the case, they wouldn’t have to wait long to find out. Cato approached the PWD cordon outside of Faust’s Bargain and parked the roadster where the officer directing traffic indicated. Looking over his shoulder into the backseat, Cato said, “We’re here, sir.”

  * * *

  The wide, spacious lawn at the center of Faust’s Bargain wasn’t quite packed to capacity, but the turnout was surprising, nonetheless, given the hour.

  The space had been named for Meridia’s first and only posthumous mayor, General Adrina Faust. She had been all of 36 years old at the time of her martyrdom, her rank the product of the constant up-jumping resulting from the deaths of her superiors, and yet she had marched alone into the marsh that had once stood upon this very spot, armed with nothing more than her bare hands, then returned to display the bite-bonds of unity between the three newly dominant species.

  Adrina Faust had died a brutal, ravaging death that lasted several days—so the legend went, anyway—but the armistice was ratified as a result of her sacrifice, and so the marsh was leveled and filled in, and the city of Meridia built atop it. Countless generations had known peace and prosperity thanks to Adrina Faust’s sacrifice, and she had been honored as such. Fitting, then, that it should come full circle, the three dominant species coming together once again to beg their various constituents not to blow the ever-loving shit out of each other.

  And yet, here they were, a single day’s worth of events ready to shred the city and its long history to fleshy, gory ribbons. This was Dolan’s moment, Cato knew. The question was if he was up to it? Dolan had had precious little time to prepare, had no notes, and yet he was supposed to somehow soothe an entire city that was on the verge of eating itself alive. It was an unenviable task, to be sure.

  “Hey,” Cato said. “Check one?”

  “Go for one.”

  With Dolan’s attention centered, Cato reared back and struck him across the cheek.

  “Whoa!” Hank bellowed.

  Dolan held up a hand, staying Hank and nodding as he staggered back. “Thanks,” he said to Cato, rubbing at his cheek. “I needed that. Mind if I get one in on you?”

  “Not at all.” Cato lifted his chin invitingly. “Make it two, if need be. Whatever gets you right.”

  Dolan nodded, then strode in with a quick boxer’s stance. “Yeah, thanks.” Cato didn’t so much as move. Quickly, Dolan snapped Cato’s head back with a soft jab and a hard right.

  “What the hell is wrong with you two?” Hank wondered.

  Cato was already shaking it off, laughing slightly.

  “It’s all good, Hank,” Zobbles said. “Don’t worry.”

  “Ooookay…”

  Working his jaw a bit and tilting his head from side to side, Zobbles smiled. “I’m ready.”

  “Sorry,” Cato said to Hank as Zobbles took the stage. “We used to do that before battle, back in the day.”

  “What in the world for?”

  “Hell if I know. We were a bunch of stupid kids afraid of dying young.”

  “Fair enough, I guess.”

  “Let’s just keep focused. Our new friends should be arriving any minute.”

  The words had barely tripped off Cato’s tongue before the vampire and gargoyle delegations made themselves known. A rapid-fire exchange of handshakes and introductions ensued, though Cato couldn’t have cared less about the names of his vampire and gargoyle counterparts, so long as no one tried to turn them.

  The leaders quickly separated themselves from their security details, huddling off to the side as they discussed in hushed tones how they were to proceed. Like Zobbles, Gragos Cairn and Erastes Ensanguine had arrived with a minimum of security, preferring the ease of movement and lack of attention that came from rolling with a low profile. That, and the way the event had come together seemed to suggest they were safe by proxy. This wasn’t a long-scheduled speech or a predictable campaign stop; the fact that it had been arranged so quickly, almost spontaneously, had made it that much more difficult to prepare an attack against.

  Still, Cato didn’t like it. He and Hank had been chasing down the major players behind the scenes for the last 24 hours, and now, suddenly, here they all were, together. Almost like pieces on a board, being moved about by some external, unseen force. Maybe that last part was a little farfetched, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that they were playing into a grander design than they realized.

  Or maybe he was just being paranoid. It wouldn’t be the first time, or the last; and it was like the old saying went: It’s not paranoia if someone’s actually out to get you.

  The various security details consulted briefly, then fanned out, as much to cover more ground as to put some distance between themselves. They all knew their jobs, and no good would come from tre
ading on each other’s toes.

  Cato edged along the perimeter and studied the faces of those behind it. He had a fleeting hope that he might recognize a face in the crowd from one of the attacks this morning, but no one tripped any alarm bells.

  Something, though…

  Something kept nagging at him.

  “What’s on your mind, partner?”

  Cato lifted a brow, glancing over to Hank. “Not sure, honestly. Something about this just feels… I don’t know.”

  “Well, it’s only a matter of time until they get started…” Hank said. He went on talking, but Cato had tuned him out. Then he said, “We should probably—hey, you still with me?”

  “Crius said the same thing. Right near the end of our interview.”

  “Said what?”

  “That it’s only a matter of time. First, he asked when he was getting out, though.”

  “Okay…”

  “Thing is, Nissa Aziani told Gragos that Crius would be sidelined until Ann was on her feet again. No chance for bail.”

  “Ouch. Bet that didn’t go over well.”

  “Actually, Gragos didn’t object. But Crius, though—there was something about his reaction.” Cato paused, replaying the exchange in his mind’s eye. “I played it off like I didn’t know, that he should ask PWD, and he just shrugged it off. Like he didn’t really care if he got out at all.”

  Hank pursed his lips and looked over at the vamp security detail. “Kaboc said something interesting, too, now that you mention it.”

  “Oh? How’s that?”

  “Right before I lifted the roadblock we sprang on him, he said something like, ‘We will take your world yet. We’ve learned how to play your games.’”

  “Huh.”

  “Yeah. My thoughts exactly.”

  Cato shook his head, eyes narrowed as he tried to read between the lines. “Why would Crius be comfortable staying in prison?”

  They were still considering the possible answers when the three leaders began to make their way toward the hastily erected array of microphones and antennae placed in front of Adrina Faust’s statue.