CHAPTER 23
Kieran looked dubiously at the silver knife. “It still tingles a little.”
“Two steaks, and the recipe for the dry rub if we live through this,” Jim said.
Kieran smiled, and attacked the remaining piece of meat with gusto. He showed no signs of being affected by the knife — Jonas wasn’t sure if a normal werewolf would have died or just broken into hives — and finished his plate in two minutes. Jonas looked down, and realized he’d been frozen with the fork halfway to his mouth.
“Thanks, Kieran, you’re a good sport,” said Jim, and put two barely-seared steaks in front of him. He pointed a spatula at Billy and said, “Mission first, Billy.”
“Mission first,” a few of the others echoed.
Kieran turned to Billy, held up the knife, and said, “You mind if I hang on to this for a minute? Steaks are hot, don’t want to burn my hands.”
Eugene chuckled.
Billy sighed. “I’d rather you didn’t. Nothin’ personal, s’just my good knife.” He walked over, took his knife back, and sat on the floor between Kieran and Frank. “I’ll have one of those steaks, though, Jim. Small one, well-done.”
Jim nodded.
The tension left the room — not that Eugene had ever looked up from his book. After a few minutes, Billy leaned over and muttered something to Kieran.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kieran said, speaking softly. “I’d rather be treated like a wolf than a lapdog.”
♟
Phillip came by at 10 a.m. and Jonas brought him up to speed on everything that had happened so far, and their plan to retake the Agency. Phillip was hesitant at first, but when he found out Jonas had a specter onboard, and that Kieran was going with or without him, he agreed to help.
“We should do a test run first, though. Make sure everything’s working,” Phillip said.
I’m not a radio, Mr. Macready. You don’t need to test the transmission, Madoc replied.
“I’m not worried about you. I’m more concerned about my children working with hunters,” Phillip said.
♟
That’s how Jonas and Amelia found themselves strolling through Central Park in the late afternoon.
Jonas glanced her way. “Feels like a normal Sunday, doesn’t it?”
“No,” Amelia said. “It feels like we’re dangling on the end of a hook. Where’s your friend? Kieran, right?”
“I thought it would be better if he kept his distance.”
“And he just does what you tell him to?”
“We talked about it, he agreed. He can get to us quickly if he needs to.” Jonas was well aware of his tenuous status as the leader of the group without Amelia reminding him. He’d had to convince Kieran that he’d be able to see everything through Madoc, and that the sight of a winter wolf would ruin any chance of the Order attacking them, like they wanted.
Amelia turned and looked back over her shoulder. “They’ve got to know this is a trap.”
“Probably. But all they know for sure is that I’m working with hunters,” Jonas said. “Besides, they’ve been following us for an hour.”
“What? Where?” Amelia said, looking back again.
“Stop looking!” Jonas said.
“I didn’t see anything, anyway,” Amelia said. “Are you just messing with me?”
Jonas considered telling her that the people following them were thralls — normal looking humans — but Amelia was freaked out enough as it was. “Can’t you just enjoy the walk? We’re perfectly safe.” It was a nice day, though a bit colder than it’d been recently. They both wore scarves with their coats.
Amelia stopped. “You’re kidding, right? I mean, you dumped me, I saw people die, there were werewolves everywhere, and vampires. Plus you’re a vampire, and you call me to go for a walk? I wasn’t planning on leaving my house again, ever!”
“You’re safer here than at home,” Jonas said.
“I know that, Jonas!” Amelia said, sighing in exasperation. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “You don’t have to treat me like a child. Do you think I’m stupid?”
“What? No!” Jonas said.
“Well, I’m glad you’re taking it so well, but I’m allowed to feel like cowering at home like a normal person. It’s what humans do. And I think it’s a load of crap that you’re laying on the Zen routine so thick, considering how you handled your dad’s death.”
Jonas stumbled. It felt like she’d stuck a knife between his shoulder blades. But it was true, he was expecting a lot of her, more than he would have expected of himself while coming to grips with his dad’s disappearance. And Amelia was mourning too, in a way. She’d invested two years in Jonas, and lost her comfortable, planned-out future in a single day.
“I’m sorry; that was bitchy,” Amelia said.
“It’s okay. I deserved it.”
She thought about it. “Yeah, you did, but that’s not the person I want to be.”
Jonas looked at Amelia, feeling a moment of fondness for his ex-girlfriend. It wasn’t enough to get them back together; there were practical problems, like the fact that he’d probably outlive her by several hundred years. But, even after losing the desire to see her naked, and having dodged her life-planning obsession, he’d still come to the conclusion that he liked her. Whether she liked him enough to remain his friend or not was a different story.
“What are you thinking?” she said.
“That I haven’t been a very good friend.”
They walked in silence for a minute, then she said, “So, what Kieran said about you being a vampire…”
“It’s true,” Jonas said.
Amelia licked her lips. “And you drink blood? From humans?”
Jonas smiled, remembering the first time he’d asked his mother the same question. “No, from a bag, mostly, but I hear wineglasses are nice, too.”
Amelia swallowed hard and unconsciously moved further away from him.
They’re making their move, Madoc said.
“It’s starting,” Jonas said, finding a bench to sit on. Madoc linked him into the overhead picture. There were twenty werewolves and thralls, in total, and the whole group was converging on him and Amelia’s location.
“Can you ask him to show me, too?” Amelia said.
“Are you sure you—”
“I want to see it, Jonas. You can spend the next ten years telling me I’m safe, or you can prove it.”
I’m linking her in, now be quiet unless you need something, Madoc said. And that goes for both of you.
It was as if they were hovering over the city, except the ground, the buildings, and the people, were all rendered as clear, gray glass. Twenty of the humanoid shapes were tinted red, riding in vans, in train cars beneath the streets, or jogging down the park sidewalks toward the two teenagers. Also visible, in pairs or alone, in crowds or on rooftops, were thirty-four blue shapes — Phillip’s kin, and hunters, working together. As the red shapes closed in, the blue shapes merged with them — a knife in the crowd, someone pushed into an oncoming subway, a gunshot from a balcony… one by one, in quick succession, the red shapes winked out.
Amelia gasped. “Oh my God! Was that Frank? Did he just—?”
It’s over, Madoc said. No transmissions back to the Agency, no survivors, zero casualties on our side. Good work, everybody.
Jonas felt a wave of excitement rushing through the network of connected minds, before Madoc broke off communications.
A few minutes later, Jonas spotted Phillip and Kieran walking toward them.
“It went perfectly,” Phillip said, beaming. “Haven’t had that much fun in years.”
Kieran’s eyes were on his father, and he had a satisfied smile on his face.
“So you’ll help us fight?” Jonas asked.
Phillip waved his hand dismissively. “Of course, but we need to talk about what’s going to happen after that. Would you mind if Kieran walked your friend home?”
“What?” Amelia said.
; “It’s okay, you’ll be even safer with him than you were with me,” Jonas said, smiling. “Right, Kieran?”
“Absolutely,” Kieran said, offering Amelia his arm. Jonas felt himself prickle a little at the werewolf’s newfound confidence. Don’t be an idiot, Kieran’s earned it, he thought, as they walked away.
“Heard you were with Eve now. Having second thoughts?” Phillip asked, wagging his eyebrows.
Jonas sighed. “No. Things are just moving really fast. You and Kieran seem to be getting along well. So, what did you want to talk about?”
Phillip clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re the new clan leader of the only winter wolf in existence, that we know of, and the other clans are going to have something to say about that. The elders will want to meet you, and…”
Jonas listened as Phillip went on about the intricacies of werewolf law and politics. It sounded like a nightmare.
“I’m just glad you’ll be there to advise me,” Jonas said.
Phillip grinned.
♟
Monday was calm. Amelia went to school, but not Jonas. He stayed home, courtesy of Mr. Edwards. He finished the first of his books and started on the second. He’d done more drills with Sam and his imaginary army. They were getting better, but Jonas was exhausted.
Eugene went to work, as did Mr. Edwards. Frank stayed with Jonas, never leaving his side, unless Kieran was in the room.
As for Kieran, he spent most of his time eating and sleeping. When Jonas asked him about it, Kieran said, “My father’s idea to create a winter wolf was to deny a werewolf’s instincts: fighting, eating, and breeding. Of course, breeding wasn’t much of a problem; that doesn’t usually happen until after our first change, anyway. I went through Agency training to work on the fighting part.”
Kieran paused to stuff the rest of a sandwich in his mouth, chewed, and drained a glass of water. “For the last bit, I starved myself. That’s why I’m so small. My brothers and sisters thought I was too weak to fight for my own share, so they took even more. Anyway, I’ll slow down after a while. I just want to know what it feels like to be full for a few days.”
Kieran picked up his plate and walked to the fridge.
“What made your dad think of that? Denying your instincts?”
“It’s an old story,” Kieran said, and went back to eating. He wouldn’t say anything else on the subject.
Phillip told Jonas that Fangston had been calling him all night, but that he hadn’t answered. “That demon’s got to be hopping mad by now. They don’t deal well with rejection.”
Most of the hunters and werewolves were out for the day, set in ambush positions around the Agency and watching all the bridges leading out of the city. Nobody tried to get out, however, one team did intercept two werewolves in a hearse trying to sneak into the warded area. They had three Order vampires in the back.
You’re sure they’re with the Order? Jonas asked.
Yes, I heard them talking, Madoc said.
Phillip’s pack took the werewolves somewhere for safekeeping; they were juveniles like the rest. As for the vampires, Jim and Billy opened the coffins in broad daylight, then dumped the ashes in the river.
Jonas was almost bored. He wasn’t making decisions anymore, just sitting on the couch watching Fangston’s men get cut down. It made him uneasy at first, but then became a morbid kind of math — every member of the Order who died in an ambush improved the odds of a successful strike against the Agency.
Then Edwards stopped by with the priest. He didn’t look like much: no vestments, just a regular guy in his mid-fifties with a rough, tanned face, short white hair, and a stubbly beard. He wore jeans and a worn navy blue pea coat. He reminded Jonas of an old fisherman. He moved from hunter to hunter, talking with them in low tones while Edwards made coffee. Comforting soldiers before the big battle, Jonas thought. He skimmed the priest’s mind and saw that he was tired, and a little scared, but seemed resigned to the task at hand. It wasn’t immediately obvious why he’d agreed to go along with the plan at all, but as Jonas pushed a little deeper, there was something else… the priest’s faith. It felt strong, like it could stand in the face of a hurricane and not budge an inch. Suddenly, it felt like someone or something had smacked Jonas on the back of the head and his connection to the priest was immediately severed.
“Ow!” he said, sitting up. He looked around, but no one was close enough to have hit him.
“Sorry,” said the priest, giving him a slight smile. “He doesn’t like people poking around my head. You must be Jonas.” He extended his hand.
“That’s me,” Jonas said, and shook his hand. The old man’s skin was rough and callused, but his grip was gentle. “Who doesn’t like people poking around your head?”
The priest smiled. “Why don’t we step outside for a minute? There are some things we should talk about before Wednesday.”
Jonas frowned, then shrugged. It couldn’t hurt. He followed the old man to the small roof deck, waving Kieran away when the werewolf moved to follow. He and the priest leaned against the railing and looked down at the pedestrians below.
“How are you holding up, Jonas?”
Jonas raised an eyebrow and looked at the priest. No one had bothered to ask him that recently. “I’m okay, I think. Tired.”
The priest nodded. “You’ve been through a lot lately, and I’m sorry for that. Do you know what you’ll be facing when you find this thing?”
Jonas started to answer, then remembered how many times he’d gotten in trouble for making assumptions, lately. “No, I actually don’t. I’m not even sure what a demon is.”
The priest nodded, thoughtfully. “Good for you, Jonas. That kind of honesty is unusual, at any age. The short answer, which is good for starters, is that a demon is a lie.”
“So, it’s not real?”
The priest shook his head. “No, it’s as real as you and I, but at its core, it’s an untruth, like ‘money can buy happiness,’ or ‘you have to be selfless to be good.’ You see, Jonas, that’s how they worm their way into people’s heads, by making them believe in lesser evils until they can take over completely.”
“So how do I fight it?”
“You don’t. Fighting a full possession is a quick trip to the graveyard. And never try to negotiate with it; any deal it offers will only result in more mayhem.”
Jonas nodded. Fangston had mentioned the same thing.
“We can always discuss this in more detail later. But for now, just get the information you need, bring the ward down, and leave the rest to me.”
Jonas looked down at the priest’s withered hands on the railing. “Are you some kind of supernatural, too?”
The priest chuckled. “No, you could do the same thing I’m going to do. God’s just had more time to pound me into the right shape.”
Jonas looked away, out toward Central Park. The sun was sinking below the skyline, painting the rooftops red and orange, turning skyscraper windows into liquid gold.
“More of them out than usual tonight,” the priest said. “That’s usually a bad sign.”
“More of what?” Jonas answered.
“Watchers,” the priest replied. He muttered a few words, then touched the back of Jonas’ head. For a brief moment, Jonas saw several hooded forms, in flowing gray robes, standing on the corners of nearby rooftops. They were looking down at the people below. Then he blinked, and they were gone. He turned to question the priest, but the old man was already walking back inside.
Jonas followed.
Inside, the priest was already talking to Eugene, so Jonas put his questions on the back burner and walked over to speak with Edwards.
“You need something, Jonas?” Edwards asked. He’d been watching the hunters in the room, and seemed to be in high spirits.
“I have a history question.”
Edwards grinned. “Okay, what is it this time? You ready to upgrade to gunpowder and artillery?”
Jonas smiled and said, “No,
actually, I was wondering if there were any assumptions a military commander would make, if he was a few centuries old, that would be different from a modern-day point of view.”
Edwards nodded and took a sip from his mug. “Well, the first thing to understand is that, up until World War II, your average commander had very little use for their infantry, other than cannon fodder. There was no press to comment on his tactics, and people assumed that soldiers would die. Specialists, like engineers or knights, were valued, and often ransomed back from the enemy if captured. But foot soldiers were often executed on the spot. That’s why Vietnam was such a shock to the military mind, it was the first time a population really followed the casualty count, though far from the first time popular opinion influenced a war.”
They talked for about twenty more minutes, then Edwards and the priest left. Jonas was half-asleep on the couch, having just finished the second of his books, and thinking about getting a blood pack from his room, when Madoc said, Jonas, wake up. Something’s wrong.
Jonas sat up, and Madoc connected him into an overhead view of the city. There were dozens of people — supernaturals — fleeing the warded area in every direction. He looked at Frank and said, “Are you seeing this?”
Frank nodded, frowning.
I can’t track this many at once, Madoc said, sounding overwhelmed. Then the overhead view of New York flickered and narrowed to just the blocks around the warded area. That’s about the best I can do.
The door opened and Eugene, coming back from his shift on watch, picked up a newspaper and said, “What’s going on?”
“Not sure,” Frank replied, “Looks like they’re all making a break for it at the same time.”
“You think they’re running away?” Jonas said.
“That’s what it looks like, kid. Smart. We can’t contain that many, not with the number of people we have.”
A hunter/werewolf team moved to intercept one of the fleeing groups. When the blue and red figures merged, they stopped moving for a moment, then parted ways.
Madoc? What happened? Jonas asked. He didn’t get an answer.
After a few seconds of silence, Frank’s phone rang. He picked it up. “What? You’re sure? I’ll take care of it.” He looked up and said, “Madoc?”
“He’s not answering,” Jonas said.
“Make him answer,” Frank said.
Madoc! Jonas projected. More of the overhead view faded, and some of the red figures jumped around, like they were teleporting from place to place.
What? I can’t do this and talk to you at the same time.
“Jim says the group they intercepted were just kids; they let them go. Can you filter out anyone who couldn’t possibly be a threat?”
Madoc didn’t answer, but red dots started disappearing. First there were one hundred, then fifty, then twenty, then they were all clear. The view expanded back to cover all of Manhattan.
“They were all students?” Frank said.
Students, instructors, a few security guards. All regular Agency personnel, and all varying degrees of frightened, confused, and angry, Madoc said, None were a threat.
“Why would the Order do that?” Frank asked, “That was a perfect smokescreen to break out or launch an attack.”
I don’t know, Madoc said.
Frank ran his hand through his hair, then said, “Pull the hunters back here, Madoc. We should be prepared.
Jonas hesitated, making sure they were done, then said, Madoc, did Eve make it out?
Yes, she appears to be headed here.
Thanks.
“Is Madoc going to be able to handle this operation?” Frank asked. “That was just a hundred people; there are supposedly close to two hundred under the Agency.”
I’m still here, Frank. And yes, I can handle it in a small, specific area. There are almost two million people in Manhattan, seven times that if you include the Boroughs. I can actively track and screen about three hundred at a time, close in.
They waited. Eugene went back to reading his paper; Frank paced. The teams of hunters trickled in, asking questions that Frank didn’t have the answers to.
“Just sit down and get some food in you. You’ll know when I know,” Frank told them.
Eve’s here, Jonas, Madoc said.
Jonas got up and opened the door just as Eve was poised to knock.
“Come in. These are—”
Viviane pushed past Eve and stepped into the room, immediately locking eyes with Jim.
“Puppeteer!” Jim shouted, and drew a gun before the others could react. Viviane grabbed Jonas, using him as a shield. He felt a surge of mental energy, and all the other hunters drew their weapons and pointed them at Jim.
“Well, this is awkward,” Jim said, looking at Jonas over his gun sights.