It was the Dragons that might help her stay free of the Demons. Esta knew that the treaty between the two forces was tenuous at best. The Demon Lord was counting on the fact that she was supposed to be under the book’s spell. She would have to prove him wrong and find her own way out.

  “What does Harborym want now?” the Dragon ambassador asked.

  Esta broke away from her thoughts and plans, and studied the ancient ambassador. He may have started out as a human, but he barely resembled one now. Scars covered every inch of exposed skin. Some wounds must have caused incredible pain.

  Ambassador Dimachaerus glared at Esta. Following her eyes, he looked down at his arms. “Do these horrify you? They are but a small sample of my battle for position and honor. Life isn’t free, little girl. I’ve spent centuries fighting for my lords. The Demons should know this.”

  Esta grimaced, “Duke Harborym sent me to inform your masters that the portal will be open at the appointed time but I request a boon.”

  “A boon? Your lord has been paid in full, and now he asks for even more? What makes him think that we’ll grant him anything beyond what is due?” Dimachaerus spat. Waving his arms in her direction the ambassador called forth his Dracaenae guards.

  “The boon is for me. I need help to escape the Demons.” Esta closed her eyes as she spoke.

  “You?” Dimachaerus asked.

  “They took everything from me. This place, your masters, can help me to survive them.” Esta answered.

  The Dragon ambassador started to laugh. Both Dracaenae guards froze in their tracks at the sound of his maniacal laughter. Laughter not heard in more than a century. Not since the ambassador won the yearly games. He was once the greatest gladiator in the Draconic Empire.

  “I remember you. Once all that mattered was what you perceived to be power. True power is something you earn. It cannot be given or taken. There is no easy path to greatness. Anyone that tells you different is a fool. Did you not learn your lesson with the Book of Undying?” He asked.

  Esta shook her head as a shiver went through her entire body. The Book. At first, it seemed to call to her, whispering and murmuring in her ear. Then the murmurs became orders and all free will drained out of her body. As a Strega Elder, she had spent more than a century doing the will of Set and following the instructions of the coven. Her own husband and child were sacrificed for the cause. Horror was not unknown to her. But this loss of everything was more frightening than death at the hands of an enemy. She would die from that. The Book wouldn’t allow its keeper to die. When it was in control her every will and movement was under its rule. “Yes.”

  “Yes?” the ancient man cackled. “That book was a trap that your and your sisters fell into. Did you think it a coincidence that the very item you were searching for just appeared within your reach? There were many plans in motion. My masters are just one cog in a great machine.”

  “And I was to be another of those cogs. My sisters…” Esta trailed off. She remembered the ritual and the screams of the Coven when the Duke Harborym broke the circle. All it took was a single error. The tiniest rune out of place and evil was loosed upon the world again. The blood of a hundred dark Witches fueled the birth of thousands of Demons. “My sisters paid the price, but I survived.”

  “What do you bring to the Empire in return for payment?” Dimachaerus asked.

  Esta touched the pouch at her side. Carefully she pulled out a small book. “I still have this.”

  Dimachaerus snorted. “That thing holds no sway here. Quite stupid of the Demon to send you of all people here to negotiate.” He cocked his head to one side.

  “He didn’t know. Neither did I actually. My escort…” Esta paused and looked at the two monstrous Dracaenae that now stood beside her. “The Demon never noticed the change.”

  “Their loss. Store the book in the depository and prepare the Witch for transport. Lord Leomaris is in need of a Witch,” Dimachaerus instructed the guards.

  As the two dragon-like creatures grabbed her arms and began to bind her, Esta screamed. “I came of my own free will!”

  “That’s what makes it all the more ironic. Slave to a book, a Demon, and now the Dragons. This just isn’t your year. Welcome to levels of pain you can only imagine.” Dimachaerus began to laugh again.

  Esta ceased struggling and bowed her head. She’d gone from one fire into another. Ysabel, the leader of the coven, was the one who generally dealt with the Dragons. All Esta knew of them was that everyone, including the Demons, feared them. They were the interdimensional boogeymen.

  <<<>>>

  FBI surveillance Teams One and Three sat on the different corners of the street watching the Frederick house. Orders had come down from the highest levels for agents to observe and catalog visitors after pictures taken by a tourist of Camilla Blackmore were found on the internet.

  “Anything?” Agent Smith asked.

  “Nothing I could decipher. That language they were speaking, do we know what it is yet?” Pulling off her headphones, Agent Jones replied.

  Anabella Smith was supposed to be the team’s linguist, but whatever they were speaking in that house was not of this Earth. Literally. “No. I sent the last tape to linguistics in Washington. My guy at the Bureau says it was bumped up even higher and classified Top Secret Arcane Blue whatever that is. He couldn’t go into details. Based on what we know about the subject and recent events in Italy I’d say it’s Demonic.”

  “Duh,” Agent Alicia Jones pointed to the news channel running live video from the battle zone. It didn’t look good for the Italian island state. “Weren’t you the one that told me Demonic was just a mishmash of several languages?”

  Smith made a face and shook her head at the other woman. “Not exactly. You have to remember that it was the early Greeks that started ‘talking’ to Demons. They wrote about the many worlds and how to contact the otherworldly. It was men such as the theologian Cornelius Agrippa and Magician John Dee that proposed that Demons had an actual separate language of their own. Demotic and Enochian are the two most prevalent. Whatever these women are using isn’t one of those. Every so often I catch a single word though. It may be a mix of a dialectic change. I’m not completely sure of any of it, though. The biggest question that I see is if it’s dialectic how did they learn it? They speak it like they were born to it.”

  “Could that be one of the reasons command is having us watch them?” Jones asked.

  Anabella shook her head, “No idea. I’ve watched a lot of subjects, but these take the cake. They’re up at all hours of the day and almost never leave the house. Only the daughter, Autumn is seen outside.”

  The sound of a bell made both women look away from each other and check the monitors. Besides the crowds of walkers on both sides of the sidewalk, there was a line of horse and buggies carrying even more tourists coming down the street.

  “I thought there was a citywide initiative to do away with those?” Jones asked.

  Anabella looked away from the monitor and carefully peeked out the surveillance truck window. She had to pull away first the drapes and then the blackout screen to do so. The first carriage passed by with no issue but the second one paused as the former Amish draft horse had a call of nature and missed the manure bucket attached to its rear. A slim man dressed like a pirate jumped down dropping what looked like half a rubber ball with a flag attached to it next to the small pile of organic matter. “There is. All the locals are tired of the excrement issues as well as tax dollars being spent to clean it up each and every day. Those little flags just point out the problem and advertise it.”

  As if to magnify her point one of the carriage drivers announced to his load of tourists the meaning of the flags.

  “That can’t be the only reason though. Carriage rides are an institution around here,” Alisha remarked.

  Letting the window drapes drop Anabella looked at her partner. “You forget I grew up here in the French Quarter. My folks still have a house about a mile that way.” She pointed North. “The issue is congestion and the welfare of the animals. There have been accidents with cars that injured the horses as well as insensitivity by the companies that own the horses. Lots of stuff is involved. Politics, even. You have to hate an election year. This whole area has been on an upswing of gentrification as well. It's all grist for the mill, regardless.”

  “Understood.” Jones looked at the monitors and froze. “We have visitors to the house.”

  Four men were approaching the front door of the Frederick mansion. To the FBI agents, they looked rough like they might be workmen or bikers.

  “Break out the parabolics and alert Team Three. This might finally be our chance to learn something. We need to figure out what these women have planned for my city,” Anabella ordered.

  Chapter 5

  “If I were a fuse box where would I hide?” Alexander pointed his modified G3 assault rifle at an open doorway. The question was rhetorical as he was alone. Searching the darkness for things that go bump in the night was a specialty of his former service the SAS. Why he left them and joined ARCANE was a question only the higher-ups knew.

  Level Five of the underground complex held several things: a cafe, locker rooms complete with showers, maintenance facilities, and, according to Commander Carson, a hidden backup command center. Power was spotty on this floor. Only a few of the emergency lights seemed to be working. Ironic that on the maintenance floor stuff didn’t get properly fixed.

  He found a doorway that led to a small office complete with desks and chairs. Alexander’s night vision goggles made all the furniture glow with an unearthly light. Giving the headset a shake, Alex muttered, “Stupid bottom basement tech.”

  “Alex, report,” the tiny comms speaker attached to Alex’s ear came alive suddenly with Commander Carson’s voice.

  Pressing the mic control at his throat, Alex responded, “First column of offices clear. No hostiles, friendlies, or electrical controls. Do you want me to continue the sweep?”

  “Negative, Alex. Proceed laterally and meet up with Sheldon and Nadya in the cafeteria. The boxes we need are in the kitchen area,” Amber replied.

  “Which is where I said they were in the first place,” Alex muttered before he triggered the microphone. “Understood. I’ll work my way toward them.”

  Still scanning with his goggles, Alex began to backtrack towards the main hallway. Each floor was laid out in a spiral with two cross hallways connecting them together. The elevator shaft went right down the center of the “X” in the floor plan. A faint shimmer of light brought him to a standstill just short of the elevators.

  “Alex to command. Is anyone in the elevator area?” Releasing the mic button Alex gripped his rifle with one hand as he slipped the goggles off. He could see a very faint light coming from under the door.

  “Negative, Alex. Do you need backup?” Amber’s voice whispered in his ear.

  Ignoring the voice, Alex released his grip on the G3 and slipped the goggles back on. Firing the rifle one handed was always a bad idea, so he re-slung it over his shoulder and pulled out his sidearm.

  “Alex, do you need backup?” Amber repeated the question.

  Pistol at the ready and crouching low Alex opened the door as silently as he was able. He peered around the edge of the frame peeking into a faintly lit office. The glow seemed to come from the desk in the middle of the room. Touching the mic, he responded to the calls. “I’ve got an unexplainable glow coming from the last office near the elevator. Investigating now.”

  The goggles didn’t show anyone in the room. Vampires, Werewolves, and other supernatural creatures had different body temperatures. Even the coldness of death should show up on the goggles. Demons were supposed to show as yellow according to the techs.

  Carefully approaching the desk, Alex kept his gun ready. As he looked down at the glowing object, he froze for just a moment and then started to laugh. “Stand down. No threat detected. Proceeding to your location.”

  Amber paused but answered, “Affirmative.”

  The cafeteria was less than a hundred feet from his location, but in the dark, it felt very much longer. Keeping his gun handy, Alex followed the hallway until the room opened up. His other three team members were sitting around a single table in the center of the room.

  “Well, what’d you find?” Amber asked.

  Alexander snorted and reached into the cargo pocket on his left hip. Even in the dim light of the cafeteria the objects in the former SAS soldier’s hand still glowed.

  “Golf balls. A whole table full of them,” Alex replied as he set several of them on the table.

  “What the hell?” Sheldon picked one of them up turning in around in his hand.

  “They’re a cheap alternative to chem lights. Someone, probably the owner of that office, painted these. I’m only guessing, but they might be used in live fire exercises or night golf. Not standard issue at all,” Alexander slipped a few of the balls back into his pocket.

  “So, not important then. The floor appears to be clear of all personnel. That in itself is strange. Operational people still have to eat. I can only assume that the sudden power outage precipitated an evacuation. We need intel about what’s happening above. I don’t want to pop out in the middle of a battle up there.” Amber looked around at her team for a moment. “Come with me.”

  The kitchen was laid out like every Army kitchen in every mess hall in America. Ovens, griddles, steam pots, and stoves were arrayed along the main cook line. Doors leading to the walk-in and freezer compartment were off to the left. Offices and dry storage on the right.

  “Each level of the complex was designed to be a certain distance from the other. Think plates stacked in a box. The elevator travels the same amount of distance between each of them except between five and six. If you measure it, you will notice it takes almost twice as long to arrive.” Amber paused letting the facts sink in.

  Walking past the kitchen equipment, she pulled open the walk-in door and waved toward the interior. “Go inside, please.”

  Alex gave his commander a funny look but entered, first shining the way with his portable flashlight. Nadya and Sheldon brought up the rear.

  The walk-in looked the same as just about every commercial refrigerator in America. Wire shelves lined the walls with rolling carts in the middle. Since this base was in Southern California, there was an abundance of fresh vegetables and local products on the shelves.

  “Close the door,” Amber asked.

  Looking surprised, Sheldon pulled the large metal door closed. Instead of darkness, a red light came on as the door clicked shut.

  “In order to keep the command center secret, they hid it from everyone.” Amber pointed to a digital readout next to the door. It was blinking the temperature.

  “It’s a temperature gage. Big deal,” Alexander remarked.

  “That wasn’t what I was pointing to. Look closer,” Amber reached into the shelf next to the wall and moved aside several large jugs of milk and cream.

  Nadya pointed, “There’s a panel back there.”

  “Yes. The kitchen staff is told there are regulations regarding keeping the temperature just so in here.” As she explained, she laid her thumb on the temperature readout panel. It lit up and scanned her finger. There was a whirring noise as the panel opened up. “Hold on Dorothy, because Kansas is gone.”

  Before anyone could answer, she touched a button inside the panel, and the entire cooler shifted. There was a grinding sound as the walk-in turned elevator started to move.

  “Cool!” Sheldon remarked. He checked both the ceiling and the temperature gauge. “So, this whole thing is an elevator?”

  “Operational security. They wanted to hide it in plain sight. Where else but somewhere there were people all the time? Stay alert. We might not be the only ones trying to use it,” Amber drew her sidearm and stood ready.

  Shuddering to a halt the elevator opened on another darkened hallway.

  “Not again! Do we really have to clear another floor?” Alex frowned as he unslung his weapon.

  Amber grabbed his arm. “No, they should come on the moment you step out there.”

  “Seriously?” Alex pushed past Amber and Nadya and walked out into the darkness.

  Like a string of dominos fluorescent lights began turning on up and down the hallways. Brightly lit doors could be seen on either end of the hall.

  “Command is that way,” Amber pointed towards the left. “The other room is either storage or an armory. I’m not sure of either. I do know it takes more than just my clearance to activate that door. So don’t even try, Alex.”

  Alex pointed towards himself and mouthed the word, “Me?”

  Pointing left, Amber directed the team. “We need information. Let’s go.”

  The hallway seemed to be longer than it looked. Multiple sensors lined the walls as well as cameras. As the team passed, each electronic module came to life. The equipment collected information on the group with every step they took. Height, weight, armaments, clothing, and genetic sampling. All the issued equipment of the team was embedded with RFID chips that knew more about the individuals than they knew about themselves.

  A cornea scanner and a hand scanner were attached to the door. Each was blinking with a red light.

  Amber leaned forward as she approached the door her hand extended.

  “Wait!”

  Stopped in her tracks Amber looked over at Sheldon, “What is it?”

  “What happens if it doesn’t work?” Sheldon asked.

  “Giant machine guns pop out of the walls and kill us. Got it? Let me do this, please.” Amber leaned forward to the eye scanner. As everything lit up, she laid her hand on the pad.

  Sheldon snorted, “Machine guns. Good one, boss.”

  Alex frowned at the frivolity as he studied the walls around the team. There were slight indentations equidistant to each other up and down the walls. Sensors or indentations in the ceiling reminded him of the Navy’s new laser targeting system. Subconsciously, the whole place was giving him the shivers.

 

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