Chapter Twenty-Eight
After I'd set lamb cooking and fried a mountain of bacon and sausages for the pack, we did pig out at breakfast, feeling rested as well as starving, and the combined sugar and protein rush got me through massed Sunday papers. As I hadn't said anything else in public since Wednesday, my snap at paparazzi was widely discussed, which meant getting into the Freed's huorns and earth fae, and the contrast between fellow preternatural ex-prisoners repaying kindness with kindness and grossly unethical human ghoulishness generated real discomfort. I was interested by op-eds wondering what it might mean to have a president who reacted fast to outrage, and linking the Man's endorsement to his forced experience of doing so with Cantrip. Coyote's delighted comments about my putative candidacy on behalf of Elder Spirits, and ap Lugh's careful but equally positive welcome on behalf of Gray Lords, had with ever-growing numbers on websites tipped gawping at crowd-sourced funding and candidates into excited discussion of a new political model — but what wasn't there, though enough elected representatives had been asked to comment, was anything substantive from any of them. Tight-lipped spokespeople for main parties said matters were being carefully considered, though there had been a pained observation from a senator that however the Man had broken ranks, expelling him while in office did not seem wise.
SAGE stuff was also strongly positive, and claims by the NRA about using assault rifles for rapid target shooting were slammed by vets who mentioned Adam's video with strong approval, and post-Parkland ex-kiddos. Several of the latter had given interesting interviews about conflicts Jesse had reported, wondering about stricter exclusion zones around schools — or just better-enforced ones, with magical as well as human vigilance, and I passed them to Jesse.
"I appreciate constructive thinking, and hats off to it, but that would be a whole lot of magic needing regular renewal. All schools is not possible, though if there was a known higher-risk case something short-term might be on. Human enforcement could kick up, meaning more prosecutions for infringement of school zones, with forfeiture of weapons. Beyond a hard clampdown on rapid-fire weapons, and maybe a compulsory buy-back, what could be done more widely, though it'd take time, is trees to make recon harder, though that won't help if the shooter's from the student body, and scenting on entry for metal, which will. Trained dogs, wolf or other preternatural parents, where available. Reinforce the perimeter while we work on the threat environment. Talk to Joel about breeding and training? And ask on social media about school fundraisers for buying dogs?"
Jesse made notes, and nodded. "I do warn magic has to be practical, but it's hard to see parameters when you're not used to it. But dogs are good, and knowing how to behave with large ones would transfer to Preternatural 101. And wolf and fae or half-fae parents."
"Good points."
Adam and the pack thought so too, including Joel and Lucia, who had things to say about what high-school graduates should know about animals of all kinds and sizes, talking and otherwise. That opened up the curriculum and methods of a compulsory Preternatural 101, and discussion was lively. I threw a senior-year camping trip to one of my new magical forests into the mix, regretting there weren't sasquatches to introduce them to but wondering what other encounters might be possible, and it got livelier. Needing to head to church Adam and I left them to it, with Jesse composing a long memo for Frank, though not before she'd urged me to address the post-Parkland dilemma in the second broadcast. Adam gave me a sidelong look as we went upstairs.
"They'll be voters when you're up for re-election, love."
I gave him an appalled look. "That is so not the point."
"Isn't it? Ex-kiddos doing Preternatural 101 are going to be happy campers, if they don't get eaten. And mixing Wildlife 101 in is an interesting tactic. Maybe it should be Others 101."
"Oh!" This look was a lot warmer. "I like that a lot. Ask Jesse?"
He agreed, and as he changed faster than me went to do so while I was considering my expanded wardrobe with mixed pleasure and resentment. I didn't mind dressing up for occasions, but I'd always been a jeans-and-tee girl for solid reasons, and having to co-ordinate things that didn't really matter bored me. But I had rep to uphold, and I'd done some brainstorming with Jesse and friends, plus Andrea and Jenny, before spending a silly amount of money. Accessories I had covered, and chose a Seminole patchwork skirt that would take Carnwennan's belt with a coppery silk blouse that picked up its muted earth-tones. Adam wanted me in the cloak in public, and as it was less bored by colour co-ordination was experimenting with shifting hues to avoid clashes. I knew better than to interfere, but got some looks when I breezed back downstairs.
There were more at church. The media mob was large and loud, and Adam and I ignored them this week, saving a polite wave, but arriving congregants were a little breathless from the noise and seeing four-legged wolves on the door. I knew Reverend Jackson had done some posting about my (probable) campaign, security, and attendance, but for all the stares no-one had anything to say until a flushed Mrs Wright came in with her husband, adjusted his hearing-aid and her own, and beamed.
"Ms Hauptman. What a gorgeous outfit. And your lovely cloak matching it." I rose to hold her proffered hand. "Aren't they noisy out there? We had to turn our hearing-aids down. But it's so exciting I suppose we shouldn't blame them too much. You must be thrilled."
I couldn't help the irony in my voice though I gave a smile she deserved. "Among other things, Mrs Wright. Mr Wright." He gave a cheerful nod, murmuring my name. "It's humbling and terrifying. But I am very happy about the state assemblies' joint bill, and especially Celilo Falls."
"Oh yes. You spoke so well. And your father popping up like that! What she said." She chuckled. "I don't understand half these new sayings, but I got that one right away. And we'll both vote for you, if we're spared. It's so nice someone's making sense, at last. But we're holding people up."
They headed to their usual pew, leaving Adam grinning while letting me know he felt like rolling his eyes too. But Mrs Wright had broken the ice, and those sitting near us began saying proper hellos and offering support, to me, and Ramona and the Freed about press intrusion. There was real curiosity about anti-photography, and Ramona and I had sorted what we could say with Gwyn ap Lugh, so there was what amounted to a q.-and-a. about glamour until Reverend Jackson smilingly called time. The liturgy was its own business, but she had housekeeping about arrangements with the KPD while boosted security was necessary, and her sermon veered away from preternatural issues to ask about the meaning of sacred space. Churches were hallowed ground, as were mosques, synagogues, temples, and gurdwaras, but humans had a problem recognising as sacred things not enclosed by walls. Stone circles did the business, and sacred groves, which was what it sounded to her as if Celilo Falls was about to become; but if fencing and trees would demarcate sacred space, it was nevertheless symbolic testimony to a much larger resacralisation that encompassed the whole Columbia Basin. We knew ecosystems were living things, and this one the domain of a manitou widely recognised by Christians as a Godsend, however also a warning, so the way we tended to divide space into enclosed and up-for-grabs was not working so well; if it ever had. She didn't have answers, but set everyone thinking.
Half the congregation seemed to think I might address them again, but Reverend Jackson, who'd checked, told them I'd meant what I said about it being over to them until Wednesday, and wouldn't be lingering today because I was cooking for eighteen as well as earth fae. I didn't have much left to do, Basmati rice and snow peas not needing a whole bunch of preparation, so Adam and I did stay a little, and I was amused to be asked what I was cooking, adding why I didn't do this to lamb too often. There were appreciative mmms, and I was happy to point people to the recipe and discuss steeping, but a more serious matter came up with gun-owners, strongly pro-SAGE and inclined to think Episcopalians and others might honourably weigh in. Reverend Jackson agreed there was a case and promised to ask the Bishop, urging wider consultation. It was a good note to end on, but the inane shouting of the media annoyed us, and the KPD had to use sirens to get us home.
"It'll ease once there's a regular schedule of press conferences." Though he was being reassuring Adam's irritation showed in the growl to his voice. "Today, though, it means our guests have a gauntlet to run."
"And the trees have concentrated them at the front. I'll ask the KPD to inform them, loudly, there will be minors among those arriving."
"I'll do it myself."
He took wolves on four legs to snarl in chorus, and I rang Leslie and Clay to warn them — redundantly, because both had seen TV images, and Clay had talked to his bosses about escorts. Jesse had coverage of Adam at the gate on, and after he'd spoken briefly to the uniformed sergeant I felt the pull as he rolled out enough power to bring silence and let the media know their behaviour was over the line, and would be actionable if minor guests arriving were harassed. Wolves bared teeth satisfactorily, and Adam shifted to persuasive mode, telling them if they wanted access they'd better consider consequences. Rude Fox-guy, again to the fore, was silly enough to complain about a threat to press freedom, and Adam fixed him with a stare that made him drop eyes and shuffle feet.
"Boy, you're dumb." Adam shook his head. "That wasn't a threat, just your basic quid pro quo. Be professional, we'll make nice. Be unprofessional, we'll exclude you from press conferences. This would be a threat."
He let a warning growl sound, gaze fixed on a suddenly scared Fox-guy.
"You and your station have always pushed your luck, as well as the boundaries of law. And you like exaggerating. With the preternatural that is not good strategy, as we consider wilful exaggeration a lie, and there will be fae as well as wolves and minors arriving, so the Medicine Wolf Accords are in effect. You should try turning your brain on about that. So should your bosses." Adam let Fox-guy go, and swept his gaze across everyone with Alpha punch. "You have my word no-one here, nor any guest, will be making any statement today. Mercy will not be making any before Wednesday. If you must wait, knowing it pointless, that's your business, but if you are at my gate you will behave in an orderly fashion, and stop disrespecting me, my family, wolves, and Kennewick PD. Last warning."
He turned on his heel, speaking briefly to an obviously grateful sergeant, and several wolves stayed, eyeing a subdued mob. I was distracted by a call I'd been expecting, and when he came into the kitchen gave him a hug, enjoying his in return.
"Idiots."
"I know, but you've put them on notice, and shaken Fox-guy hard enough he might start thinking."
Adam sighed. "I'm not sure why they're bothering me so much today."
"Jesse. But I'm looking forward to seeing her pull out some style and whack them upside their assumptions. And me, as they're a distraction when you're fretting about Bonarata. But David will ease your heart, Irpa will have news of troll availability, and I've just spoken to Jill Widepaw, who will join us by 6, to eat. She thinks bodyguarding's a bore but imagines I'll make up for that, and says I get an A for legislator-wrangling. She was pleasingly blunt without disrespect, and made me feel my true age."
Adam stared a moment, and laughed. "A Bear-ish bear avatar, then."
"She's had time to settle to it, love, being in her 2100s."
More had to wait, because a call from the AED told me he and Wiseman were on the ground and would be with us in thirty. Leslie beat them — Jude and Jenna were coming later, with Clay and his family, and Tad — and so did Coyote, Ramona with Carla, Warren and Kyle, and Zee and Irpa, being Ms Thorsden, by archway, so it was a full house. The traffic made the media restless, though Adam's warnings were holding them, and the three Feeb SUVs that followed a Benny's van in had flashes blasting away, not that it would get them anything. Then again, though agents covered them, neither Westfield nor Wiseman made any attempt to avoid being identified, a calculus I could respect, and Westfield racked up points by greeting the Benny's driver, cheerfully telling Wiseman that helping carry boxes in earned earlier choice of topping. I stepped out to greet them, ignoring the ripple of flashes, and offered a tense, mildly bemused Wiseman a grin as we headed in with laden arms. Good smells made for impatience as I whipped through introductions, noted how warmly Leslie and the AED greeted one another, saw Wiseman seated with his favourite Diavolo, which boded well, and gave everyone permission to tear in.
While slices were going down I kept to small talk, asking after their flight and families. I'd been saddened but not surprised to learn the AED was a widower, but he had a son and daughter he adored, both in college and doing well. Wiseman was older, his three children full-grown, but appreciated enquiries about their wellbeing and his wife's, reciprocating with questions about my mom and sisters, making clear he'd been reading up on me. What my federal file looked like by now I dreaded to think, but he was showing willing as well as smart, and as hunger was assuaged I steered conversation to what he needed to know about vamps, making it clear Jesse knew about everything we'd be saying, while those arriving later, save Jill Widepaw, weren't yet in this particular loop.
The extra guest had Westfield doing some checking, and others had questions, which set the tone nicely at informal. Zee was cool with it, and Irpa wasn't bothered by letting her hair down. Details would remain uncertain until we had vamp input on how they'd handle failures of compliance, but everyone wanted the Farouts to work so over the litter of empty boxes Wiseman and the AED, digital recorders running, learned a great deal about vamps and the attitudes of wolves, Elder Spirits, trolls, and metalzauber to them, as well as many other things.
Besides my adventures with Gauntlet-boy and Blackwood, which widened eyes, I didn't say much, but I watched Wiseman carefully, and he watched me back, when his attention wasn't nailed by one of the others. The AED had clearly spoken to him openly — I wouldn't have minded being a fly on that wall, though my ears would no doubt have been burning — and he was finding confirmations as well as having his worldview adjusted. He appreciated my gently turning conversation, mid-afternoon, from vamps per se and their history with our various kinds to the practical problem Farouts faced. My distinction of registration, monitoring, and enforcing compliance was accepted, and the first two were human business, though sheep put me centre-stage because none of the others had ever had much to do with them while I knew Stefan's flock and had met some others. I also knew about feeding ties, warning Wiseman flatly that, the magic involved being very real, however invisible, his primary source would have to be vamps and sheep, and he'd need to be careful about psychiatrists he hired, so we did the putative SHEEP section. Enforcement was preternatural business, though, and Adam had been liaising with Alphas in cities with seethes, while Coyote spoke of searching for ghosts, already underway. One practical issue was a means of reporting discoveries, with a protocol for what would then happen, and Coyote added a memorable explanation of why some avatars were more vulnerable than others.
"All avatars are magic, founding Farout, and can do cool things, but don't have wolf strength in human form, and if you're fighting a vamp, fast and strong, turning into a rabbit, snake, or bobcat doesn't help much. If you turn flier you have a better chance of escape, but not of killing the vamp. But if you turn cougar, bear, or elk, that's another story. Weight's up, and strength, with sheer bulk." He grinned. "Horses for courses. Or bears for stairs. It's one thing Mercy's getting quite good at."
"Still on a learning curve, but that matters, Mr Director. You know one of Cantrip's biggest problems was that while they did very little except discriminate, they did it really badly, internally as externally, lumping shapeshifters, magic users, and fae together, so muddled about who can do what they couldn't think straight even when they had to. A different example is humans compulsively packing silver, though lead stops a wolf just fine and the only point of silver is to kill, escalating to fatality before there's need. It's rude. How would you feel about a human who insisted on drawing and taking the safety off before he'd enter your house?" Wiseman winced. "Exactly. Your people don't just need preternatural facts — they need an attitude based on understanding both problems on the Path of Assertion and opportunities on the Path of Mercy."
"I get that, Ms Hauptman, but how to train that attitude is less clear."
"ACT." I held up a finger. "Accuracy. Are you certain you have the facts straight?" And a second. "Clarity. What is your perspective on those facts, and what perspectives might other beings have?" A third, with a coyote grin. "Thinking sideways. I know, but your SOP has to include questioning SOP hard and often. Will it get the desired result? Because if not, forget it, and work out what will that is legal, polite, and viable."
Westfield shook his head, smiling. "Accuracy. Clarity. Thinking sideways. That's no bad summary, Mr Director, though matching Ms Hauptman at the sideways is probably not possible."
"That's my coyote-girl." My great guru father sat back. "Good one, for an acronym, but it leaves out grabbing opportunities. We coyotes tend to play it by ear, and our ears are bigger and better than yours."
"Un huh. But there's creating opportunities too, Big Ears, and that's about sideways. As a current example, someone in the Pentagon worked out huorns round secret installations might do wonders denying other nations satellite imagery, and as I'm all for real secrets being secret, co-operation, and carbon fixing, I'm thinking about it and will ask Underhill and Gwyn ap Lugh as and when. But benefits should run both ways, and huorns dislike pollution as much as any tree, so maybe it could be a lever to get the military looking hard at its energy budget, and agencies insisting employees use hybrids."
"Huh. That's very smart, Ms Hauptman. And legal, polite, and viable, as well as right and popular. Greener government in all ways."
"You bet, AED. But the other thing I wanted to say about recruitment, Mr Director, is you shouldn't just train people, you should grow them." I took us back to what Jesse and everyone had been happy should be Others 101, adding the brief I envisaged for Frank. "We figure it can start early with the neverending mysteries of the other sex, go on to creeds, cultures, and colours, and include preternaturals from human magic users to manitous and fae, with practicals — school visits, trips, whatever. But some kids will be better at the preternatural strand. I don't just mean preterophiles, but ones who are calmer, don't get so freaked by very large or changing forms, or squicked by eating things raw." I smiled wryly. "It's harder to think sideways when you're panicking or barfing and can't think at all. You should be looking for those kids, offering a summer programme, opportunities leading to internships, college sponsorship, fast-tracking for really good ones. And don't be afraid of having younger agents or supervisors than the Beltway thinks sensible — age matters less than getting it right. Adam's twice my age, he's than a quarter of Warren's, who isn't a hundredth of Irpa's, Zee's, or Coyote's. So what? We trust one another to try to do the right thing, and not do stupid things."
"Unless they work."
I flapped a hand at Coyote. "If they work they weren't stupid."
Leslie laughed. "The law of success we get. But Ms Hauptman is again spot on, Mr Director, and Miss Hauptman a walking example of what she means. My daughter and Detective Willis's, who'll be here later, Mary Oliver's kids too. I've watched them learning to deal, and it's not just being cool with the preternatural, it's being supple and sharp with the world. My Jenna's matured a lot since we came here, in very good ways."
"It's home that counts, Leslie."
"Un huh. And Jenna's spent serious time in yours and Adam's, Mercy. Point is, Mr Director, I'd write very strong recommendations if any of them prove interested in a career with the Bureau. And there will be others like them, especially around wolf-packs. I can see wolves' children might be an issue, but look among their smarter friends."
"I'd second that, Mr Director." Westfield gave me a long look. "Excluding Ms Thorsden and Mr Adelbertsmiter would be rude, so I'll say your willingness to aid the FBPA makes the Federal Government glad."
"Indeed." Wiseman was emphatic. "It has been very helpful, and I can see my way forward much more clearly, with the immediate vampire problem and longer term. I must respect, ah, electoral contingency, but may I talk to Mr Lafferty about how he would, if elected, wish to proceed? This Others 101 as a nationwide feeder system, not only for my Bureau but as a way of getting humans who can think preternatural into federal agencies would be a policy I think most fellow directors would support."
"Of course." My eyes met Adam's, and we stifled sighs. "You should talk to Jesse, Mr Director, and Jenna and Sally when they get here. They've been taking point on this, and however it plays social networking and peer-to-peer education will be critical." I felt the tingle of magic, and so did Coyote, Zee, and Irpa. "But it's time to say hi to Medicine Wolf."
"Ah."
Wiseman actually coped quite well, helped by the AED being cool with Medicine Wolf, even when Irpa dropped her glamour — for ease, she said, human dimensions making her feel as if she was wearing shoes several sizes too small, but I'd bet mutual admiration by megafauna was involved. Earth fae joined us, to greet Wiseman and because I'd promised to feed them early, not being able to accommodate them with nineteen other guests. Steaming didn't take long, nor decanting cookies, which gave me the opportunity to weave a hospitality spell, explaining to Wiseman.
"If you had a magic user who could cook on staff, even coffee and cookies, formally served, could make for more productive interagency meetings." Preternaturals laughed, he blinked, and I shrugged. "Use what you can. I try to use magic as WD-40, reducing friction and drag. And any magic user who is a host can cast a hospitality spell."
"Right." Wiseman frowned. "I thought I had clarity about other perspectives and thinking sideways, but you seem to blend them."
There was more laughter, and Adam leaned forward.
"Yes and no, Mr Director. Mercy perceives magic oddly. That gives you the friction and WD-40. But then she thinks sideways, because a bunch of desks arguing are in someone's territory, and if they eat and drink they can be magicked into greater goodwill, so why not?"
I don't know how well Wiseman got it, but while earth fae ate we sat round Medicine Wolf to canvass what if any roles Farouts had in the Columbia Restoration, Cascadia evacuation, and Celilo Falls. The answers to two and three were limited to observation, but as dam work progressed into the Snake and Flathead there would be opportunities for training and experience. Removing dams is no kind of simple, engineering being critical as well as happily assistable by preternatural abilities, and Medicine Wolf was willing to accommodate serious students. As it reminded Wiseman, opportunities would extend with Ol' Manitou River and levees, and with Others 101 field-trips also on the cards another web of connections and routes to recruitment opened up that kept us going for a while.
"Maybe you should have an educational division, Mr Director. Not just recruitment, but a wider mission. The better educated humans are about the preternatural, the less trouble you'll have to deal with, and we all want new teaching materials for Others 101 to be good. FBPA approval that something meets the ACT requirements should carry weight."
"Ja." Zee nodded. "And the other way, if you blacklist something. Nothing will stop humans spreading and believing what is false, but there should be a standard they can trust. And surely the young must be taught truth about all kinds. Preternatural Affairs must include what humans falsely think and believe of us."
Irpa nodded as well, tattoo-Skuffles echoing her. "Perhaps some of that money we hacked, that the Man said should go to Farouts, could be earmarked for education. There was enough to go a long way around."
The AED knew he was being corralled, but approved, and with Coyote happily imagining educational ads we got more useful stuff done before the gate warned Adam our outstanding guests had arrived with a KPD escort. Adam and I thanked Medicine Wolf, and left Jesse to see everyone inside while we headed out front. It turned out Jude and Jenna, with Tad in convoy, had collected Clay, Donna, and Sally Willis, using a big hybrid SUV that was one fruit of Leslie's promotion, and Jill Widepaw had had the luck or good timing to tuck her battered pickup in behind the trailing escort. I remembered her sixty-ish appearance, some gray in her long, braided hair, as well as the sense of bulk despite evident fitness and easy movement, but knowing her true age her eyes seemed different. I wasn't sure if I was seeing more clearly, or she'd let it show, but for all my bravado about ages I did feel 34 to her 2100+, like Pippin or Merry looking into Treebeard's infinite eyes. All Fae and Elder Spirits had it, and Medicine Wolf, but they were of other kinds, even my not-exactly father, while Jill was of mine, and that look was one thing I was aiming for.
"She Doesn't Only Fix Cars. I'd heard about your new trees, but they're something to see."
"Aren't they just? The ghouls are furious." She gave a wide grin. "Adam you know, but come meet everyone else, starting with these fine humans."
Clay and Jude were easy, as was Tad, but Donna Willis was edgier, not having been round us as much, and Jenna and Sally careful to ease things along with Jill and Tad. The kitchen's easy informality was good, though I did formal introductions to respect Wiseman as well as Zee and Irpa, before leaving Adam to supervise laying the table, with a couple of stools for a sated but lively Pirandella and Nuthatch, and taking Jude and Jenna to meet Medicine Wolf. They were excited, reading was as swift as ever, and after thanking them and asking about reading more African Americans who knew the Mississippi, it offered me private assurances that while it wouldn't be visible, it would be alert and around. Back inside I found Wiseman had taken Leslie's advice and was talking to, or being talked to by, Jesse, Jenna, and Sally, and Adam was getting to know Jill. Ramona and Carla helped me with rice and snowpeas, and when meat came out of the oven while trays of apples went in, good smells filled the air. Westfield drifted across, nodding to Carla and Ramona.
"AED?"
"Just Grant, at the moment, if you will."
"With pleasure. Mercy, then. Leslie's told you how we switch SAC and Ms in and out?"
"She did, and it works for me. This is more than duty, however I'm on it." He gave a smile I liked. "I've already promised you my vote, and I am the very opposite of repining. I'm also relieved by the guards and defences you have, Mercy, and I meant it about asking for anything else of use."
"Thanks, Grant, but we're good so far, and more resources will be arriving. David Christiansen, for one. Or six."
"So I gathered. Are the huorns also an alarm system?"
"Among other things. But not speaking about it matters. I want vamps inaccurate, unclear, and thinking in straight lines, and with magic involved loose lips really can sink ships."
"Yes. But from the AED's point of view, you're a civilian taking point in a war, and he, like Grant, is really looking forward to your inauguration."
People kept mentioning that, hypothetical as it was, so while I served, Carla setting out dishes of marinade, and people discovered you really could carve the lamb with a spoon, I asked how many languages I should take the oath in and whether I should do it on four legs as well as two. Amid laughter, the consensus was as many languages as I wanted, and Coyote countered Zee's observation that an oath in either form held both, and suggesting otherwise a bad idea, by pointing out I couldn't say it for coyotes unless I was one. Grant was clear that the Constitution de facto mandated the oath be sworn in English but a president-elect had the right to add words — that having been tested about So help me God — and translations into Spanish and Amerindian languages unquestionably lawful. With expertise available, and lamb being savoured even by Adam and Warren, I brought up the text on my phone and asked Coyote and Jill to do Salish and Siksiká while others tried Spanish. Pirandella slyly offered Old Cornish, but I countered with a different question I'd wondered about, and got her promise to provide a guide to pronunciation.
We were, saving wolves and Irpa, pretty full, the lamb being ridiculously rich as well as soft, but once we'd cleared and I dished baked apples spaces were discovered. The wolves and Irpa got two, everyone was complimentary, and domesticity again hit its mark. Wiseman was still adjusting, but seeing humans, including ex-kiddos, interacting happily with several kinds of preternatural, not in conflict or emergency but as friends and willing allies, made what had been abstract abruptly real, in more ways than he'd anticipated. He was excited by possibilities he was beginning to imagine, a flowering of solid administrative work he'd already put in, and I was feeling pleased with myself when serious magic flickered nearby. Zee's, Irpa's, and Coyote's heads snapped up, bringing abrupt silence.
"What?"
"Not sure, Adam. Magic nearby. And … odd. Mixed. But it just came and went. Anyone recognise it?"
"Some was fae, liebchen, but I am not sure what kind."
There was a much more familiar ripple of magic.
"I suspect we're about to find out."
When I opened the back-door Medicine Wolf put its great head inside, silver-on-gold eyes meeting mine as it spoke privately.
Mercy, an Undead entered your land on foot, and sought to observe from the grove. One of the oaks objected. You should come to see, but perhaps not all your guests.
I processed, wondering about education. "Objected as in dismissed?"
Wolf and fae attention behind me spiked.
Yes.
"Dust?"
Yes.
"Any others about?"
No. He came alone, stealthily, though clear to me.
"Alright. Give me a moment?"
Of course.
I turned. "Jude, Jenna, Clay, Donna, Sally, there's no danger but something's happened I and others need to see. Jenna, Sally, it's your parents' call, and Leslie and Jesse know what's involved, but one, anyone who comes swears an oath of secrecy — limited time, but it matters a great deal until — and two, given it is safe, however … squicky, we've been pushing education all day, I'd advise all to take the opportunity."
Leslie's eyebrows were high but she looked hard at Jude, then nodded, and he shrugged agreement. Clay also looked at his wife, then at me.
"Another preternatural secret popping, Mercy?"
"Yup. And it's a doozy. You're only one circle outside need-to-know, and before you left tonight I'd have given you some interesting new ammo for your Glock. This just shortens the timetable, and the facts will break wide in no more than six weeks, probably sooner. But there is a squick factor."
"OK. We do squick. What sort of interesting ammo?"
"Oaths, if everyone's in?" They were, and I collected them, rolling out a little power. "Alright. And that would be wooden ammo, Clay, because the problem is vampires. They exist, are not good news, and we, meaning every kind here, are jointly outing them and imposing reform. Detail can wait but it's germane that I delivered an ultimatum to the vamp's powerful if ridiculous dictator Friday night, speaking for and with the Marrok, Gray Lords, Elder Spirits plus Medicine Wolf, and the Man. I know, but Director Wiseman and the AED can confirm. Right now, what matters is Medicine Wolf tells me a vamp came to spy, and stood next to an oak that objected, terminally, so we need to go see some dust."
It would have been very odd even without croggled humans, and preternaturals were deeply intrigued. The fae offered assurances no-one would be photographing anything without their let, but we went through the garden, and if no-one disbelieved Medicine Wolf's assurance of no present danger we were still armed to the nines. I had a Glock packing wood and so did Jesse, on principle. Zee hadn't dropped glamour but acquired a sword, Irpa had Giant-shortener, and even Nuthatch and Pirandella had hands on oak hilts. Adam issued a bunch of LED torches, beams cutting darkness and picking up Medicine Wolf as it loped alongside. I was also toting a hand vacuum with a clean bag, and I'd grabbed dust-masks. In unspoken accord wolves and fae had taken the perimeter, keeping Jesse and humans inside it, and Coyote had joined in. No-one was speaking, and when we got to the grove a deeper silence grew as we formed a circle, torch beams concentrating, and other earth fae slipped from the trees to join us.
The objecting oak was well-positioned to shield someone looking at the house, and binoculars tumbled on the grass told us the vamp had been doing just that — until a hanging branch had grown a twig right through him, from behind. A designer jacket and shirt, sporting a tie, hung limply from the twig, tips of expensive leather shoes and a briefcase peeping out from crumpled trousers, silk boxers, and uneven heap of dust directly beneath them. I heard Zee mutter something astonished in Old German as my mind spun, and after one long second snapped into action.
"Nuthatch, Pirandella, please convey our gladness and check if the oak needs help. Growing that fast has to be a strain. Irpa, get Gwyn ap Lugh on your phone, please, with video? Adam, Bran ditto? Jesse, Frank. SAC, AED, independent recordings please, and bring the Man in if you can." That would do, and once phones were held out I took a breath. "What happened here is the vamp came to observe and maybe more, using the oak as cover, and the oak grew a twig right through him, which has to be Underhill time bubbled Overhill, somehow. A few months' growth in less than a second. Vamp was old enough to become dust, but if that tailoring and those shoes aren't Italian I'm a dingo. Ex-kiddos, humans, note my precautions. You really, really do not want to breathe vamp dust, because it tastes vile. And SAC, one analysable sample coming up, as requested."
I put on a mask, asked the cloak to seal itself tightly and repel anything I stirred up, and set to. Gently whacking shirt and jacket with Manannán's Bane dislodged any dust that had stuck, and while Adam, also masked, checked jacket pockets, recovering wallet, keys, and phone, a combination of prodding and vacuuming allowed Warren to recover trousers, socks, and shoes, with loose change, Euros and cents, and a gold signet ring with a pelican crest. Memory pinged, and a query to Adam, investigating the wallet, elicited confirmation. I finished vacuuming, asking an appreciative Nuthatch to warn worms and insects before I tackled the grass, and straightened, detaching the bag and holding it out as I shucked the mask.
"SAC Fisher, the dust of Alessandro di Ragusa, Bonarata's first-call assassin and one of his children. Born in the 1480s, IIRC, and certainly worth being rid of. Nuthatch, how's the oak?"
"I believe it is well, Mercedes Elf-friend, but it has done a new thing, and an oakman to bespeak it directly would not be amiss."
I looked at Irpa, who nodded. "The Prince hears, Mercy, and is on his way. Does the Marrok wish to be collected, Adam Hauptman?"
"He does, Irpa, and is glad of the offer."
Less than a minute after Irpa stashed her phone an arch opened, and ap Lugh came through with The Dagda, two oakmen, Bran, and Charles. I did proper introductions, but what mattered was the oakmen vanishing into the oak, with ap Lugh's clear statement a moment later that though strained and in human terms shocked, it had taken no harm. Relieved, I quirked an eyebrow.
"Was this expected, Gwyn ap Lugh?"
"Not at all, Mercedes Elf-friend, but file under synergies." He shrugged, elegant as ever. "Your cloak has spoken to the oaks, and when this one knew one Undead to stand beneath it, it had an idea, and made a request Underhill promptly granted."
"Very promptly."
"And what is time to Underhill? We must know what is in that briefcase."
Adam was peering at it. "Fingerprint lock, so it needs busting. Mercy, can you smell explosives?"
I stooped to smell carefully along the join. "Only cartridges, Adam. For my money there's a gun in there, as well as silver ammo."
Coyote went coyote to sniff, and shifted back. "Nothing like a booby-trap I can smell, cautious son-in-law."
"With modern PE, cautious is good, believe me. Gwyn ap Lugh, and other magic users, can any sense anything that means we shouldn't use force?"
Even humans felt the magical weight that fell on the briefcase, shuffling slightly, and it made me squint. Zee's and Tad's probing magics were most interesting, The Dagda's and ap Lugh's more repelled by the steel framing and lock, but after a moment all shook heads.
"Nein. It is just security, Adam Hauptman. And while I cannot smell its contents as Mercy did, I agree it is a gun and silver bullets."
"I concur, Dark Smith. Irpa, yours is the greatest strength here."
"No problem, Prince. Hand me the briefcase when I have my gloves on, Adam Hauptman, if you will."
Irpa's dress did not have room for pockets, but she produced a pair of hefty leather gloves from somewhere that I strongly suspected were the glamoured version of the ones I'd seen her wear to rip steel doors apart. She pulled them on Ms Thorsden's elegant hands, and when Adam gave her the briefcase something very magical happened. Her hands still looked right, but she was holding the whole thing from opposite sides, fingers curled round the base, thumbs pressing above and below the lock, which was not spatially possible. And it didn't last, leather and steel dimpling under pressure, and the briefcase opened with a crack that sent a fragment of something straight up. When I looked down again a normal hand was holding the briefcase closed, the other outstretched until the fragment came down and was tossed to Zee. Then Irpa opened the case.
"Ta-daaa!"
I might have grinned, but it was a gun — an assassin's rifle, as in The Day of the Jackal, stock, chamber plus trigger, two-section barrel, telescopic sight, and silencer in custom-cut recesses, a row of large-calibre silver bullets on one side. I swallowed as my mind spun and could almost hear everyone thinking. Charles spoke first.
"There are many implications."
"Yes." Bran's voice held weight. "The Undead are every bit as blind and overconfident as they wrongly think you, Mercy. Di Ragusa acts only on Bonarata's direct orders, so he is kneejerking as hoped, and if this one may have flown in rather than translocated, a solitary first approach was long-term SOP, and that he did not know or think to avoid huornsspeaks volumes. And it is … a cliché."
"Oh yeah. Which we want."
"Yes. How do you wish to respond?"
I thought about it, but I knew. "With another, Bran, which will confuse Bonarata because he doesn't realise he's being funny. Luca Brasi is sleeping with the fishes. Or the pizzas." Bran blinked, but Charles gave me a slow, brotherly grin. "You get the dust, SAC, and the binoculars and gun, which should be run against any open snipings. We'll deal with the wallet and phone, and pass on data when we have it. Meantime, Warren, please grab some Benny's boxes, pack the shoes and clothes, add a little parmesan, and with a guard detail drop them off at Marsilia's seethe. Signet ring on top of the stack. Just hand over and leave, or if there's no answer in reasonable time, set down and leave."
/Parmesan?/
I recognised the voice from the AED's phone. "Oh yeah, Mr President. Bonarata just said war on, and if it goes to plan he's bruschetta."