by Clara Martin
I drove to work, listening to the news. There was more debate about repealing the sanctuary law. “What is happening to us,” the commentator asked despairingly, “that we would refuse to shelter our own kind against the fae, power-grubbing and cruel as they are?”
I nodded in agreement as I pulled into the parking lot, getting out and swinging my purse across my body. I made it to the door and paused. The door ward was still shining.
I knocked, and a few moments later a woman opened the door. “Yes?” she asked, blinking at me.
I smiled uncertainly. “My name is Eileen O’Donnell—I’m starting work today as assistant program director.”
She frowned. “I didn’t know anyone had been hired,” she said querulously. She gazed at me, eyes sparking. I braced myself, recognizing a Truth spell. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.
I felt the Truth spell take hold. Truth spells could be fought, but only with a combination of willpower and mental focus. I gazed at her, staring at her nose, and resisted. I felt myself sputter as the words began to bubble to the surface.
“Jenny!” Garrett came up behind her. “What are you doing?”
Jenny frowned again. I felt the Truth spell break. “She came to the door, saying she was the new assistant program director.”
“She is, Jenny.” Garrett gently pushed her aside. “We’ll talk about your use of Truth spells later. Eileen, come in.”
I walked past Jenny, who was staring at me, and smiled at Garrett. I could feel a headache beginning to throb in my left temple. “Good morning, Garrett,” I said politely. “Can I get a password to the door?”
“There’s no password to the door ward—you have to use magic to open it. It’s how we recognize people.” He sighed. “We’ll have to build in a loophole for you.” He waved his hand into the first room. “As for the door to the conference room and the door to the War Room, absolutely. We’ll get it set up this morning.” Garrett guided me down the hall and leaned into the conference room door, murmuring a word. The door sprang open. “I can tell you’re former army,” he remarked. “You’re fifteen minutes early.”
“On time is late,” I quoted.
He grunted, sitting heavily at the table. “We’re just waiting for Anna,” he said. “She’ll be late. She always is.”
The door behind us swung open. “Good morning, Garrett,” a jovial voice boomed in. “Strike Team 3 is home.” A man walked in the door, followed by two others.
The man in the lead was tall and bulky, built like a football player. He had long, shaggy black hair and a beard. I swallowed a gasp. I could feel the magic crackling off him—a veritable bonfire of power. His gaze swept to me.
“And who,” he murmured, “is this?” He stared at me. I stared back, holding his eyes.
“This is Eileen O’ Donnell,” Garrett said, waving at me. “You missed the dramatics while you were out vacationing in Winter Wind.”
The man laughed, showing clean, white teeth. “Oh?” he asked, smiling. “What happened?”
Garrett grunted again. “Why don’t you tell him, Eileen,” he said.
“I got in a fight,” I said shortly.
The man laughed again. “Must’ve been some fight,” he remarked. His eyes trailed over my face.
I shrugged. “It was interesting.”
“Eileen is our new assistant program director,” Garrett said. “Eileen, this is Charlie Tango, who you heard over the radio last night. Also known as Charles Talbot.”
I stood and walked over, extending my hand. “Pleasure,” I said.
Charles took my hand and stood there, staring into my eyes. “Christ,” he said, releasing my hand. “You’ve been through the wars, haven’t you?”
I shrugged again. “I never deployed,” I said, voice tight.
He stared at me. “How did you—”
“That’s enough,” Garrett said, standing. “Come back here, you three. We need to debrief.” All three men filed past me, shooting curious looks in my direction. Anna arrived in their wake.
“I’m sorry, Garrett,” she said, voice distracted. “My car wouldn’t start.”
He grunted. “Seems like a recurring problem, Anna,” he said, voice skeptical. “Why don’t we get started, and after you’re done, you can call a mechanic about your car. Like you should’ve done last time.” He stared at her, raising an eyebrow. She seemed to shrink.
“No problem,” she said dejectedly. She sat down in one of the chairs. “We’ll take about five minutes here, and then go back to debrief,” Anna told me. “First, here’s your password.” She pulled out a sheet of paper from her briefcase and passed it to me. “It’s bloodlocked,” she added.
I nodded. “Do you have safety pin?” I asked.
She passed me one, and I pricked my finger on the pin and smeared the blood drop on the sheet. Words began to sparkle on the paper. Unicorn, I read. Then, Griffin.
“The first one is the passcode to the conference room,” Anna explained. “The second, to the War Room. Don’t repeat them where anyone can hear them, and—” she pointed at the paper. It crackled in a sudden burst of flame, burning up before my eyes. “That’s that,” she said in satisfaction. “Any questions?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
“Excellent,” Anna replied, standing and gathering her briefcase. Garrett stood, as well. “Let’s go to the debriefing, then.” She led the way to the War Room door, whispering the word and closing the door behind her.
Garrett looked at me. “Standard precaution,” he explained. “Some of the fae can shape-shift. We had one shifter try to get into the War Room, but he was caught when he didn’t know the passcode.” He whispered to the door, opened it, and shut it in my face.
I swallowed, leaning in close. “Griffin,” I murmured. The door opened once more. I walked in, closing it gently behind me.
The three men from Strike Team 3 were sitting around the War Room table. Charles had a piece of paper in front of him and was rapidly scanning it. One of the other men had an open newspaper. The third man stared into space, looking sleepy. Anna sat at the head of the table and gestured for me to join her. I sat to her right. Garrett took the opposite side.
“Welcome,” she said, “and good job, Strike Team 3. Before we begin, I want to introduce the new assistant program director”—she pointed at me—“Eileen O’Donnell.”
I nodded to the table, smiling. The men nodded back.
“Good to be home,” Charles said, smiling back at me.
The other two men exchanged looks. “You’ve met Charles,” one of them volunteered. He was Asian, tall and rangy. “I’m Vu. Vu Mariner.” I nodded at him.
“Jim,” the third said laconically. He blinked, still sleepy. “Jim O’Rourke.” He was shorter, also rangy, with brown hair that hung to his waist.
“Pleasure,” I told all three. I leaned back in my chair.
“Now,” Anna said. “Let’s hear it.”
Charles nodded. “We infiltrated the boundary of Western Wind,” he said, pushing a map to the center of the table. There was a red X marked at one point. “We met up with the retrieval target and her child. We escorted them to the safe house in Shenandoah.” He paused.
“We were pursued by three hunters, all from Western Wind. All second-rate. The Queen of Western Wind must not have placed much value on this particular slave. They were three days behind us, and we had them running in circles. We reached the safe house without incident.”
Anna nodded. “We tracked them with the BFT,” she said. “They seemed to have no idea how to track.”
Charles nodded back. “The retrieval target and her child were safe and sound when we left.” He pulled the map back. “The mission planned for next week, to Northern Sun, should be more interesting.”
Anna smiled. “Anything to add, gentlemen?” she asked the other
two men. They both shook their heads. “Excellent,” she said. “You’re dismissed and off duty for the next two days. Go recover.”
Garrett cleared his throat. “And clean your gear,” he added. “I can smell it from here.” He frowned at Jim. Jim smirked.
Charles laughed. “Yes, First Sergeant,” he said, grinning. He stood. “All right, you two. Go,” he told the other two men. They stood and filed out of the room.
Charles looked at me. “So, new assistant program director,” he said, voice taunting, “Any thoughts?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Seems like you did pretty well,” I said lightly.
“We did.” He dropped into the seat next to me. “My team is the best team.” He studied me for a moment, frowning slightly.
“I see the damage,” he said slowly, “but I don’t understand how it could’ve occurred. That must’ve been a hard blow.”
“Do you all know nothing of privacy?” I asked, irritated.
“No,” he said, laughing slightly. “I’m used to assessing the health and combat capabilities of everyone I meet. You look fit for the office, not the field.”
I glared at him. “I’m more than capable,” I said tightly.
“Never said you weren’t,” he said lightly. “But I wouldn’t take you on a mission, that’s for sure.” He eyed me. “Want to get coffee? I’ll pay,” he said abruptly.
I laughed. “Thanks, no, I’m fine.” I leaned back in my chair. “I’m here. In the office. Being capable.”
His mouth compressed into a thin line. “Your loss,” he said, rising. “Nice to meet you, Eileen. I’m sure that I’ll see you around.” He gave me a shallow bow, his eyes dancing. I stared at him, unimpressed. “Garrett. Anna,” he said, nodding to each in turn. He strode out of the room, banging the door shut behind him.
Anna sighed. “Of course he did,” she muttered. “That man is a hound dog.” She glanced at me. “Charles Talbot hits on every woman he meets,” she added, “and most of them accept when he asks them to coffee.” She laughed. “I think you’re the first to have turned him down in almost two years.”
I grunted. “I have better things to do with my time,” I muttered.
“Of course you do,” Anna said lightly, “Especially now that you’re assistant program director.” She pulled another sheet out of her briefcase. “We have two more missions in November. Let’s start planning.”
“Mission planning?” Phillip walked in, smiling. “I’m right on time, then.”
“Phillip,” I said slowly, “What exactly do you do?”
He smiled at me. “I don’t have to attend the debriefs,” he said, answering my unspoken question. “I’m a communications specialist.” He grabbed the chair Charles had just vacated, stretching out. “Let’s go, then.”
Anna pulled a map from her briefcase, smoothing it out. “This,” she said, gesturing at it, “is a map of Northern Sun.” I looked at it. There was frighteningly little detail.
“We’ve never been inside the estate,” she said, glancing at me, “and there’s little detail to go off of, except what we gather on missions.” She pointed at the boundary of the estate. It was more detailed, cartographic representations of ravines stretching out parallel to each other. “Satellite doesn’t work over this particular estate. The King, Lugh, is very powerful and able to block it. You’ve met his son, Faolain,” she continued, glancing at me. “Faolain does most of Lugh’s dirty work. This is one of the most difficult estates to infiltrate. Strike Team 3 will be going out next week to meet two slaves and bring them back. This is a longer trek than Western Wind. The closest safe house is in Vermont.” She pulled out another map, this time of the continental United States. The Northern Wild, Northern Sun, Western Wind, and the Kingdom of Texas were marked out in an ominous red. The thirteen states and California were colored a friendly blue. Anna pointed at Vermont. “We need to get a medic team to the safe house there without Faolain noticing—he has eyes on our building and operation,” she explained to me. “This safe house isn’t often used, so we can’t station a medic team there permanently ... and we can’t let him know that there’s a mission planned. Any movement to Vermont could potentially alert him and make the team’s mission more perilous.” She sighed, leaning back. “Ideas?”
“Isn’t there a football game up in Delaware, at one of the universities there?” I asked thoughtfully.
“There is.” Anna tapped her pen on the table. “Are you thinking send the medic team to the football game?”
“Send a lot of people to the football game,” I said. “Just stick the medic team in there with all the folks heading there.” I pointed at the map. “They can head to the safe house after the football game. They’ll just have to be careful not to be spotted en route.”
“It is a less direct route than straight from here to Vermont,” Phillip said. And it’s less likely Faolain will pay attention to a large group of people heading out for entertainment.”
Anna nodded briskly. “Garrett, thoughts?”
Garrett leaned back in his chair. “Makes sense to me,” he said laconically. “We only need four people—two medics and two EMTs.” He glanced at me. “We just need to find a large group of people for the football game.”
“My brother goes to George Mason,” I said slowly. “He told me that one of the clubs there is preparing a spirit trip.”
Garrett raised his eyebrows. “Now how,” he said skeptically, “are we going to get four people in with a bunch of college kids?”
“I could ask my brother if a group could travel along,” I said. “He’s the secretary of the club.” I paused. “The only problem is that it’s the Society of Law, and it would be a lot less conspicuous if the four people chosen could talk law.”
Anna laughed. “We’ll tell them to brush up,” she said. “Okay. Can you call your brother?” She gestured at me.
I nodded, pulling out my phone. “He shouldn’t be in class,” I said, checking the time. I brought up my contact list and pressed the contact labelled “Thing 2.” He answered on the second ring.
“What’s up?”
“Hey, Nate,” I said, drumming my fingers on the table. “I have a favor to ask. Can four of my friends tag along on your spirit trip?”
“I don’t really care,” Nate replied, “I hate this trip and everything to do with it anyway. What a waste of time and the society’s coffers.” He fell silent for a moment. “You’ve never been interested in football before,” he said. “Does this have anything to do with your new job?”
“How do you know—”
“Mom mentioned it this morning.” He paused. “So, does it?”
I sighed. “Yes, it does.”
“Okay.” He fell silent for a moment. “We leave tomorrow at nine o’clock. Tell your—friends—to meet us at the George Mason Library. The bus leaves from there.”
“Thanks, Nate,” I said, voice cracking. “I truly appreciate it.”
“Sure.” He hung up.
I looked up. “Okay, it’s a go. Can the medic team leave from the George Mason library tomorrow at nine?”
Anna nodded briskly, gesturing to Phillip. He pulled out his phone and began to text. “It’s a go,” he reported after a few moments.
I frowned. “Anna ... ” I said slowly. “Maybe the paranoia is talking again. But how do you know our phones aren’t tapped?”
Anna laughed. “A little bit of paranoia in this business really isn’t a bad thing,” she replied. “This whole room is protected from eavesdropping.” She raised her hand, snapping her fingers. “I’d know if someone was listening in.”
“Right,” I said. My heart rate returned to normal, and I put my phone down.
“Okay,” Anna said, looking at the map. “So our medic team is ready to go. Now, we need to plan out supply. The medic team will have their medical supplies, of course, but we’ll
need to arrange to get them food.”
We talked for a while, going over resupply. Phillip leaned back in his chair, eyes drooping. Garrett added the occasional comment, fingers bridged together. At last, Anna put down her pen.
“That’s enough for now,” she announced. “Let’s get lunch.”
I nodded, standing. “I brought mine,” I volunteered. “I just need to go to the car and grab it.”
Anna nodded, distracted. She was studying the map again. “That’s fine,” she murmured. She was tapping her pen on the table.
I jogged out of the room, snagging my keys on the way. I blinked. Charles was sitting in the conference room.
“Well, well,” he said with a lazy smile. “If it isn’t Eileen O’Donnell. Working hard, or hardly working?” His eyes trailed down my face and body.
“That’s classified,” I said shortly. I dangled my keys. “Right now, I’m interested in lunch.”
“Is that an invitation?” Charles sat a little taller in his chair.
“Absolutely not,” I replied coolly. I glanced at the table. He had a book out. “What’s the book?”
He put a finger on the page he was reading and flipped it shut, holding it up to me. I looked at the title. “Sun Tzu?” I asked.
“A little professional development,” he said, voice rumbling. Charles looked at me again. “Why don’t we get lunch?” he suggested. “I could use a break from my book, and I bet your sandwich is wilted from all the time in the car.”
“Thanks,” I said, turning away, “but no thanks. I need to get back to work.”
Charles laughed. “You do that, then,” he said, going back to his book. “See you.”
“See you,” I echoed, fingering my keys. I walked out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind me. I jogged to my car, glad I’d worn clothes I could move in. It was chilly.
I unlocked the car and froze. I could feel eyes on me. I got in the car and slammed the door, locking it, and surveyed the parking lot. There was nothing there.