Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from this work.

.

.

"You can go in now, Miss Somerled," said the secretary as she replaced the telephone receiver back in its cradle.

Elfraine put down the magazine she had been flipping through and rose to her feet. "Thank you, Miss Torres." She crossed briskly to the door of the inner office and stopped. Thomas Manning, Director, the brushed-silver name plate proclaimed. She already knew that; the woman from the employment agency had been able to give her at least that much information when offering her the assignment. However, in making her own enquiries, Elfraine had quickly discovered there wasn't a great deal else to be had on either 'Thomas Manning, Director,' or the intriguingly-named 'Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defence': only a handful of old, difficult-to-find newspaper articles with lurid headlines, and some television footage – also on the Darknet – that raised more questions than it answered. She had found an avalanche of internet conspiracy theories as well but they had been of next to no use – though given the manner of her arrival at the Bureau she was less inclined to dismiss them now.

Director Manning had insisted on sending a car for her: one with darkened windows and two besuited – and imposing – agents in addition to the driver. After frisking her and confiscating her cell phone – just until she had signed the requisite secrecy declaration, one of them assured her – they had bundled her into the car, rolled up the partition separating the front and back seats, and held her more or less immobile between them for the entire journey. After the first few turns, she had completely lost her bearings and neither of her escorts had been particularly informative despite her best efforts to draw them out. All that had been missing was the blindfold and gag, she thought cynically.

But far from being annoyed, she had felt a rising sense of anticipation as the car wound its way towards the Bureau's headquarters. Taken together, everything gave her hope that the assignment might result in a greater benefit than simply the pay packet. One face stood bright and clear in her mind, and God and Fate be damned but she would regain what she had so unforgivably lost all those years ago. The Bureau's archives could very well lead her to the final thing she needed in order to do that.

It was what she focused on now as she stood outside the Director's office. Tamping down her excitement, she straightened her shoulders, rapped sharply on the polished wooden door and, without waiting for an answer, walked in.

Tom Manning looked up as the door swung open. His first thought was that the dreaded moment had finally arrived; his second, that the new archivist's passport photo hadn't lied - she was certainly easy on the eye. He stood up and walked out from behind his desk. "Miss Somerled," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Tom Manning, Director of the Bureau. Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise, Director Manning," replied Elfraine as she took his hand. "And please, call me Elfraine – or 'Elf' for short, if you like."

Manning had been listening more to the smooth tone of her voice and her polished British accent than to the actual pleasantries themselves but at that last part he froze, mid-handshake. 'Elf' for short! That wasn't good. Not at all. He wouldn't call her anything of the sort! His brain worked furiously. Perhaps she'd be willing to change her name – just for the duration of the project. Or at least keep her diminutive to herself. It was bound to only add fuel to a certain malicious, homicidal flame not a million miles away.

Hard on that realisation came a twinge of guilt at the thought of what he was about to subject the woman to but in view of everything that had happened over the past six months, he had no choice. Besides, it was only a temporary thing; the guys in IT had said it would take around three months for an archivist to transcribe the older collections in the Archives Storeroom into digital format and at the end of the day Prince Nuada would just have to put up with it. After all, it was the Bureau's storeroom – no matter what the elf thought. Trouble was, in the few months since Nuada and his sister had been at the Bureau, the prince had managed to 'convince' just about everyone that the storeroom was, in fact, his own personal domain. Most people avoided using it now unless they absolutely had to, and even then they tended to get Abe to retrieve whatever they needed. Abe was one of the most approachable agents in the Bureau and, more importantly, one of the few who was not freaked out by the elven prince's arctic – and more often than not, venomous – manner. Manning could only hope the archivist had some fortitude of her own; she would need it. Her voice broke in on his thoughts.

"Director?" Elfraine was more than a little alarmed at the man's sudden pallor and silence. She retrieved her hand from his and took a step back.

Manning quickly recovered. "Sorry!" He gestured to a chair in front of the desk. "Please, have a seat – Miss Somerled." He resumed his own and straightened some papers as he gathered his thoughts.

With a cool arch of her brow, Elfraine sat down. Her calm expression gave lie to the butterflies in her stomach. She had no idea what could have possibly upset the Director in such a brief exchange and it occurred to her that access to the Bureau's archives might not be quite the foregone conclusion she had assumed, even though the employment contract had been signed several days ago and the secrecy declaration and other forms completed just now in the outer office with Miss Torres. She tensed as she thought about the paperwork; perhaps they had discovered something amiss with her own. It was getting harder and harder to lay hands on the right documentation: forgeries that could pass electronic muster…

"As you know," said Manning, finally deciding on his approach, "the Bureau's archives contain several old collections that need to be transcribed into digital format." He looked up. "Urgently."

Elfraine relaxed a little; so far, so good. She cautiously inclined her head.

"I'll show you the Archives' Storeroom today," Manning continued, "and introduce you to some of our agents. You might find them – useful." He grimaced as he spoke. 'Useful' was an understatement but he wasn't quite sure how else to put it. Quite apart from giving her a heads up about the Enhanced Talents team, so she wasn't too surprised when she met them, he was counting on them to keep Nuada in line over the coming months so Miss Somerled could get the project done. Manning was certain the prince wouldn't be so accommodating as to find somewhere else to skulk for the duration. And that reminded him, as if he could forget – he needed to warn her about the elven prince, without scaring her off before she'd even started. Where to begin with that one, he wondered.

Elfraine realised the job was still hers; it was obvious from what the Director was saying. All the same, he was clearly working up to something and she wondered what it was he was so reluctant to tell her. She wished he would hurry up; she was just dying to start work on the archives now. The irony of that thought put a gleam in her eye and she flashed him an encouraging smile, to speed things along.

Manning took the hint and heaved a sigh. He tried to pick his words carefully. "The project's pretty straightforward and I'm sure you'll have no problem with the actual work but - " He hesitated again and Elfraine smiled again, a little less brightly this time.

"The thing is…" Manning equivocated once more.

"Yes, Director?" Her tone was short but she couldn't help it; she was becoming impatient. With each passing minute, she was more and more convinced the Bureau's archives contained the information she sought. Nothing on earth could change her mind about the job now. She dropped all pretence of accommodation. "If it's bad news, you might as well serve it straight," she told him. "I'm not as fragile as you think."

Manning bristled at her tone. "Right, Miss Somerled," he shot back. "Straight it is. The agents you're about to meet are like no one else you've ever met before."

"I doubt that," she murmured.

He frowned and continued. "One of them – Hellboy – he's half-human, half-demon. His wife, Liz Sherman, has pyrokinetic abilities. Abraham Sapien is an ichthyo sapien – a fish-man – and Johann Kraus is – well, he's an ectoplasmic being." Manning paused to let that sink in.

Elfraine looked only slightly interested in his pronouncement. "So, the newspaper articles and TV clips were more or less right after all," she said, offhandedly. As long as the Bureau's agents kept out of the Archives Room, she didn't care what they were.

"Er, yes," said Manning, a little off balance. Her lack of reaction surprised him, as did her mention of the old newspaper clippings and television footage. He thought he had well and truly buried those four years ago.

"I'm sure we'll get along famously," Elfraine assured him.

"No doubt," he muttered, "but they're not the ones I'm worried about."

"Oh?" Elfraine felt a frisson of alarm at the hangdog look on the Director's face.

"We have a – guest, I suppose you could call him," Manning explained. "He has a special interest in the Archives Storeroom and spends a lot of time in there."

Elfraine's eyes narrowed.

"Unfortunately," continued Manning, "he's not very friendly."

"Oh, I'm sure I can handle him," broke in Elfraine. "I'm used to dealing with all sorts." She was already thinking of ways in which she could rid herself of the unexpected – and unwanted – 'guest'.

Manning was taken aback by the hard gleam in her big, brown eyes. However, he doubted she could handle Nuada. The prince had put the fear of God into some of the Bureau's toughest and most experienced agents – the human ones that was. The woman in front of him, although undeniably striking in the looks department, wasn't in any way physically imposing. She was of only average height and slim, and Manning thought that even he could pick her up with one arm. He couldn't imagine her presenting a serious threat to anyone, let alone a battle-hardened elven warrior with some four thousand years' worth of experience behind him. And if she thought she could charm the prince, well… she would soon find out otherwise. Manning knew he needed to make it quite clear to Miss Somerled just what she was up against. "I mean," he forged on, "he's so unfriendly, he wants to wipe out all humanity."

That got a reaction; she seemed lost for words. But before he could assure her she would be protected, she found her tongue again. "Well then lock him up, Director!" she said. "Why on earth is he allowed free run of the place if that's how he thinks!"

Manning couldn't really fault her on that point; he wondered the same thing himself. He knew now he had been overly optimistic when he used the rune stone and spell after Nuada and his sister had been resurrected just over four months' ago. He had quickly discovered he had a tiger by the tail, and the rune stone was only a tenuous restraint at best. Technically speaking, the prince hadn't broken his word and so Manning had no grounds to go back on his own but he wasn't going to explain any of that to the archivist – not when he hadn't even told any of his agents the true circumstances behind the elves' presence at the Bureau – and so he cavilled now. "It's not exactly 'free run'," he said, "and besides, it's… complicated."

"Complicated how?"

Manning ignored the question and rushed on. "Anyway, Hellboy's team will provide protection, and the Archives' room is a decent size. You should be able to keep out of each others' way."

"I see," was all Elfraine said. Her mind was chewing on this new piece of information; for all that it was a 'decent size', the Archives' room was going to be far too crowded for her liking.

Manning pressed on towards the last hurdle. "There's one other thing, Miss Somerled," he said.

"Yes?" She wondered what else there could possibly be.

"Our… guest is a four thousand-year-old elven prince."

Elfraine felt as if she had just sucked on a lemon. The situation was becoming more and more… complicated, to borrow a word from the Director. A four thousand-year-old elven prince with genocidal tendencies presented more of a challenge than a mere unfriendly guest with the same. Still she was nothing if not resourceful. She was certain she would find some way to rid herself of said elven prince, as well as the Bureau's team of 'bodyguards'. Smoothing her features into a neutral expression, she spoke. "As I told you, Director Manning, I've dealt with all sorts. I'm sure we can work something out."

"Well then!" said Manning. "Good!" It was all out in the open – at least, the relevant parts were. He heaved a mental sigh of relief and allowed himself to think that the next three months might not be as difficult as he had anticipated. Of course, there was still the main business at hand to be dealt with but if he didn't have to spend his time mediating between Nuada and Miss Somerled or recruiting for a new archivist should the elven prince scare her off- and that was still a possibility – then he could count it a victory. He stood up and said, resolutely, "That's everything covered, Miss Somerled. If you're ready, I'll take you to meet the others in the Archives Storeroom."

"Very well, Director," said Elfraine, also standing, "'Once more unto the breach', good sir."

The irony of the quote went entirely over Manning's head.

… … …

Nuada strode up and down the length of the Archives Storeroom, in the grip of a cold fury. This was the final humiliation but he had no choice other than to bear it, thanks, once again, to Manning and his accursed rune stone. That didn't mean he would make it easy for the Bureau's puppets though. He was certainly not going to cede the room to their new archivist or let her interfere with his own work in even the slightest way. He would, instead, make sure he instilled in her a proper measure of fear and respect, an easy enough task with what was certain to be a soft, spineless creature. Scowling, he recalled that Manning had asked Anung un Rama and his lackeys to give the woman whatever assistance she required – to act as bodyguards, in effect. Well, he would just have to play a careful game in that case. But make no mistake, the archivist would have a clear understanding of her place in the scheme of things by the time he had finished with her.

A clear understanding… The thought caught in Nuada's mind and he broke his stride. A clear understanding would be a fine thing indeed: a clear understanding of what had happened that day, four months ago, in the Cave of the Golden Army, and why it had happened; a clear understanding of how that creeping toad, Manning, had obtained the rune stone and learned to use it; and a clear understanding of who was behind it all – for he didn't believe for one minute that Director Manning was directing anything other than his precious Bureau.

If you cannot command then you must obey... The words sprang up, unbidden. He had uttered them four years ago, to taunt the demon, and now they had been turned back on him. His jaw clenched and his lips flattened in a thin black slash of anger. He was the uncrowned King of Bethmoora, a warrior with over four thousand years' worth of experience, and yet he was forced to obey a selfish, hollow creature like Manning. It was a source of unbearable humiliation. His oath – a thing of value, a source of pride – had been reduced to rancid, bitter words given against his will.

But he had borne too much over the centuries to be undone by this. He would do as he always had: fight back in any way he could. First though, he needed to break the hold of the rune stone and he hoped that somewhere in the Bureau's old archives he would find the way to do that. Of course, he still had other ways of finding things out, through the contacts he had re-established in the Mhargaidh Troll, but he had already discovered some very interesting tomes in the archives and if he was honest, he didn't want it known amongst his own kind that he was powerless against Thomas Manning and his infernal rune stone.

Whatever Manning had done, however he had done it, Nuada was certain the man hadn't done it on his own – or had even thought to do it – and once he found a way out of this bind, he would hunt down the true architect. After, that is, he wreaked vengeance on Manning and every other person in this wretched place. Including his sister. Nuala. The destroyer of the ancient House of Airgetlám – her house, and his too – and the one who would see of the last remnants of their people – the Tuatha Dé, a race as old as time – fade from this earth. He would never underestimate her again…

.

.

References:

'Once more unto the breach' – Shakespeare, Henry V, Act III.

Mhargaidh Troll Oirthir Mhór: (Irish Gaelic) Great Eastern Troll Market.

Airgetlám (silver hand/arm): (Irish mythology) the epithet of Nuada, the first king of the Tuatha Dé Danann.

Tuatha Dé: (Irish mythology) "People of the Gods". Also called "the Ever-Living Ones" (implied by áes sídhe – Ir. "people of the sídh".)

.

Chapter posted 21st March 2012