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"Glaring With the Third Eye"
"Glaring With the Third Eye"
9/21/1999
I.
In the dim twilight of early morning, standing before one of a row of nearly identical whiteboard one-story houses in Queens, Calebdar studied the numbers posted by the front door. 733. Yes, he recognized them. He could not read English, of course, his scholarship had been in Darthan magick and forbidden secrets of the Sulla Chun and he had never planned on coming into the world beyond Androval. But he could cope with recognizing three numbers.
Unlike the typical Melgar, Calebdar was short, not more than five foot six, and thin. His loose raincoat did not lend bulk to his slight frame. The warlock had a long, bony face with deepset dark eyes and a wide flat nose; a slouch hat pulled low concealed most of that face. "Now we begin," he told his daughter beside him.
Miruvar was the same height and weight as her father, but her hair was dark blonde like her mother's and she had her mother's chiseled features with high cheekbones and a slightly cleft chin. The girl was bundled in a plain cloth coat, with a white scarf around her throat, and she had put the suitcases down on the sidewalk beside them.
"This realm is still so strange, father. I am not at ease here, so many Humans rushing about, these loud carriages with no horses to pull them, the high towers. I wish we were back in Androval."
"Cease your whining," Calebdar snapped. "You know what waits for me at home. Do you wish to kneel and place your head on the block? I for one do not. Come, follow me." He went through the tiny front yard and up onto the porch of the house, rapping sharply with his knuckles on the front door. Behind him, Miruvar sighed and lifted both heavy suitcases to trudge behind him. Within a few seconds, the door swung open and a stout middle-aged man with thick-lensed glasses greeted them.
"You DID come!" he laughed. "I still can't quite believe it. Welcome, welcome to the world. Please come in. You must be Miruvar, let me help you with those." Wilbur Schlegel took a suitcase from the girl's grasp and led them into his house. He was a solid, warm presence in a plain white dress shirt and black slacks, with a beige cardigan. Only a fringe of white hair circled his head behind his ears.
"I've never been to any of the adjacent realms," Schlegel gushed, "And I was SO excited to communicate with you. A scholar from Androval. Please, please, let me know anything you need. I'm at your service."
"More than that," said Calebdar, stepping closer. In the center of his forehead, the skin wrinkled and peeled apart as a bright green eye opened where no eye should be. Its iris flashed with a lambent light from within, and Wilbur Schlegel froze paralyzed with deep terror at the sight.
"More than that," the Melgar warlock repeated as the Third Eye took hold of its victim. "You are but a slave with a new master."
II.
Trom Girl was up by five-thirty every morning, without any need for an alarm. She showered and groomed herself in the adjoining bathroom, then dressed quickly in plain white sneakers, denim jeans and a dark blue blouse with two breast pockets. At eighteen, she was small and slim, not more than five foot three and one hundred pounds, with an alert foxy face under a shag of thick black hair. Megan inspected her quarters, but of course everything was clean and neat. The room contained a double bed, a dresser with a big mirror, a TV set on a stand, a low table with two chairs, and a closet; all the member quarters in the KDF building were furnished this way, comfortable but not luxurious. Most had been untouched for almost a decade.
Although she had been staying here frequently the past month while the new team was being organized, she had not personalized her room at all. There were no framed photos, no nick-nacks or little statues or potted plants. All her personal gear was stowed away out of sight. Now she opened the top drawer of the nightstand by her bed and fetched her wallet and keys to stick them in her pants pockets. Leaving the room, Trom Girl clicked off the light and closed the door behind her, then trotted quickly across the hall to the elevator.
Here on the third floor were the private quarters, where so far only Bane and Cindy were permanent residents in their adjoining rooms. The hall was lined with shelves absolutely crammed with ancient books seemingly in no particular order and this irritated Megan unreasonably. All her training and natural disposition urged her to start organizing those books into some semblance of a system, but she knew that would take years. Kenneth Dred had been collecting those volumes on the Midnight War and the occult for five decades, and there was no telling how many thousands of them were stored in this building.
When the cage arrived, she rode it to the ninth floor, got off and hurried up steep cement steps to the hangar. This had once been the roof of the old building until Bane had its walls erected and a roof put on with a huge sliding panel. Here was stored the black stealth copter CORBY. Megan flicked on the bright fluorescent lights and glanced over at the craft. It needed so many upgrades and improvements, but the Links had to come first. She sighed without realizing it and went over to a work bench where seven electronic devices sat in a row, surrounded by tools and loose parts. Megan slid a stool over, dropped down on it and eagerly got to work.
The Links looked rather like remote controls with a video screen, but they were advanced communications and sensory devices no Human technology could match at this point. The Trom who used the name Leonard Slade had crafted them while he had been a KDF member. He had been dead for nine years now, and although the Links still functioned, they were hopelessly outdated by Trom standards. For the moment, Megan had to content herself with adjusting them and making small improvements until she had time for complete overhauls. For the next hour, she sat on that stool without fidgeting, opening panels in the Links to replace nearly-microscopic parts, cleaning and tuning up and resetting.
At seven, a buzzer sounded in the hangar. Despite her upbringing by the Trom, Megan was Human enough to give a start. "Good morning," she said quietly.
"Morning," came Cindy's husky voice. "Ready for another day. I bet you're not in your room, are you?"
"No," Megan admitted. "I'm in the hangar, upgrading the Links."
"Work, work, work," said the blonde telepath over the speaker. "Get yourself down to the kitchen, breakfast is underway."
"Understood," answered Trom Girl, automatically straightening out the Links and replacing the tools to their slots. She jumped up and left the hangar, rode the elevator down to the first floor and stepped out into a wide hallway with a bannisterd staircase facing the front door which opened on East 38th Street. This hall was lined with more of the bookshelves, but also had a few artifacts on the wall and two paintings. As soon as she stepped out of the elevator, she caught the aroma of bacon sizzling and her stomach growled audibly. Megan smiled faintly to herself and went into the kitchen.
Everything was stainless steel and dark polished wood. In one corner under a curtained window was a round table with four straightback chairs. At the stove, Jeremy Bane was juggling two cast iron frying pans which held bacon in one and scrambled eggs in another. He looked up and nodded as Megan entered. "Hey, Trom Girl," he said. "Comfortable in your new quarters?"
"My room is acceptable," she answered without realizing how graceless her statements sometimes were. "I will have the Links ready for use within another hour after I resume work." Megan came over to stand beside her captain. "Do you have instructions for me to help?"
"What? Oh, no, I've got this covered. Get something to drink and have a seat for a moment." Bane was six feet tall, but gaunt enough that he seemed a bit taller. The black long-sleeved turtleneck and slacks made him look even thinner. The Dire Wolf turned his pale grey eyes on Megan for a second appraisingly, then went back to his cooking. He wasn't aware of this. It was automatic for him to constantly be wary of everything and everyone, a lifetime spent in the Midnight War had given him habitual suspicion.
"Cindy will be back in a minute," he said as he got some plates from a cabinet over the sink. "She went to get a few newspapers. We might have a new case today."
"What would that be?" asked Megan, sitting bolt upright at the table with her hands folded in front of her. Being raised by the Trom had left her more formal than a typical Human her age.
"I'm not sure yet. I got a few reports from some of our observers. Calebdar has been spotted in the metropolitan area. He's caused trouble in the past."
"That's an understatement!" snorted Cindy from the doorway. The blonde telepath came in and dropped three newspapers on the dining table. As she shrugged out of her windbreaker, Cindy went on, "The last time he turned up, he got Red Sect slaughtered and you had a broken arm."
Megan was torn between the conversation and her urge to start examining the papers. "Who is this Calebdar?"
"He's a Melgar warlock," Bane answered. "The Melgarin don't have a lot of mystics, but the ones they do produce are both powerful and dangerous." He put plates down on the table as Cindy went to fetch silverware and drinking glasses. Bottles of apple juice and milk followed. While Bane shoveled the eggs and bacon onto their plates, Cindy put slices of whole wheat bread into the toaster.
Bane seated himself and began to dig in. Before Cindy could join them, a chime overhead alerted them that the front door had opened. Since no alarms had gone off, it could only mean the newcomer was one of a handful of people. The little blonde reached out with her mind for the barest instant, then grinned. "Sheng," she announced, "just in time for breakfast. Why am I not surprised?"
A young man who looked Chinese but who was from the realm of Chujir stuck his head in the doorway with a grin. Sheng Mo-Yuan, called Argent, was short and broad, with a wide flat face and thick glossy black hair. Today he was wearing plain canvas sneakers, light blue jeans and a blue work shirt with the cuffs rolled up to the elbows. "Good morning!" he called cheerfully. "Oh, I'm in luck, I didn't think breakfast would be this early."
III.
Miruvar placed the dirtied plates and bowls in the sink, then turned to where her father was still sitting at the table with a last cup of coffee. If only her mother were alive, she had been able to keep Calebdar's ambitions in check. But pneumonia had claimed her the previous year and now Miruvar could only obey whatever her father ordered. As a good Melgar girl, filial duty outweighed her own misgivings. She had watched him delve deeper into Darthan lore, even studying under a Kje on Maroch itself. And now he had that Third Eye of Dominance. She had followed his studies, observed his rituals and read his scrolls while he slept. Although she had never told him, Miruvar understood nearly as much forbidden knowledge as Calebdar did.
"You have not told me your plans, father," she said meekly as she walked over to stand before him.
The Melgar warlock scoffed. "That's because you don't need to know them! An enemy cannot force knowledge from you that you do not possess."
"May I be seated?"
"Eh, yes. Of course. Listen, Miruvar! You have been a good obedient daughter all these years. I can never return to Androval, but soon I want you to go home and find a decent Melgar lad and bear him a son or two. But first... I still need your assistance in this world." He drained the last of the coffee and shoved the cup aside annoyedly.
She took a hesitant breath. "I was not with you when you came to this world.. when you fought the Human called Dire Wolf."
"Miruvar, you are getting bold beyond your place. Yes. You were but seven when I came here to study with the sorcerers of Red Sect. Naturally I left you with your mother, Akuran rest her spirit. It was while I sat at the feet of Red Sect and listened to their lore, that the group was suddenly attacked. A Human, with eyes the color of ice, with an Ensalir dagger blazing in each hand. Apparently he had some long grudge with Red Sect and he attacked them without warning." Calebdar shook his head at the memory. "Dire Wolf! His true name is Jeremy Bane, I later found out."
"Please tell me more," the girl asked simply.
"Oh, very well. Why not? I had brought with me two bodyguards, seasoned arena champions both of them. Dire Wolf slew them both, though he suffered a broken arm in the fight. Would that it had been his neck! All the mystics of Red Sect were slain, as were my two bullyboys, and this Bane took me prisoner. He treated me without due respect. He brought me back to Androval where King Holmir himself decreed my punishment. I may never leave our realm again, if I did I should be face execution. And now I have defied that edict! The Dire Wolf will not go unpunished." Calebdar raised his scowling face toward his child. "Not only will Jeremy Bane die, he will suffer first."
As he spoke, the front door opened and Wilbur Schlegel entered. His face was not completely blank, not expressionless enough to draw notice, but he looked distracted and her eyes were distant. He held out a white envelope to his new master. "One thousand, six hundred dollars. As you commanded, all I had in my account."
"Good," Calebdar said. "I learned on my last visit that money is useful in this world. Very well, thrall, I think I have only one further use for you. Then you may as well die..."
"Father, wait!"
" 'Wait?' "he repeated. "Do you give me orders now?"
"No, never. But I have a thought I feel I must share. If this man has family or friends who will come to see him, he must be alive to send them away." Miruvar bowed her glossy head low. "I but seek to help."
Calebdar rose and the Third Eye opened on his forehead, blinking as normally as his two natural eyes. He turned to his slave. "Answer me fully and honestly. Will anyone call on you today?"
"My sister might. We talk every few days," Schlegel answered calmly. "She will only get my answering machine."
"Do you have to go to work? Do you have any social engagements?"
"No. Today is Sunday. I have no plans." He talked as naturally as if he were not being dominated by gralic force.
"Good," said Calebdar. "Good. Then you may live a while longer. It's unfortunate the Eye can only control one mind at a time. Very well. I will have you make one phone call to your friend, the Dire Wolf. Go into the next room and wait." As Schlegel left the room, the warlock turned to his daughter. "I will bind him with ropes. Later, perhaps, we will see he has food and drink, but for now I just want him out of the way. Why do you look at me that witless way?"
Miruvar bowed her head again. "It is not for me to criticize,father."
"Remember that! I fear you are getting soft-hearted, child. We are outlaws, living beyond the law and we must be cold and hard. Never let mercy stay your hand. Do you hear me?"
She lifted her head slowly to fix her dark blue eyes on him. "I hear and understand."
III.
By nine, Megan Salenger had completed the upgrades on the Links and handed them out. She had changed into her tight jumpsuit of dark material, fitted with numerous pouches and pockets, high boots and military collar. Her belt held three flat devices on magnetic plates and a metal disc the size of a dinner plate was strapped between her shoulder plates. "Ready for duty, captain," she announced with immense seriousness.
Holstering his Link on the side of his belt, Jeremy Bane tugged his sport jacket over to conceal it. As always, he was all in black.. slacks, long-sleeved turtleneck and jacket, what was essentially the uniform for which he was known in the Midnight War. He turned those pale grey eyes on the girl. "Megan, you are not officially a KDF member yet. We still have preparations to complete. Tel Shai has accepted you..and you, Sheng.. but your training has barely begun."
"Formalities, surely," Sheng shrugged. "We have already had a few cases together, captain. The Smiling Brethren. Don Coyote. Let the legend of Argent begin."
The Dire Wolf nodded, inwardly amused at the young man's zeal. "I think so, too. Naturally I have some misgivings. Ah well, the world needs heroes, Argent, and you two will be good ones."
Stepping closer, Cindy clapped him lightly across the back. "They're not any younger than we were when we started, Jeremy. And we know more now than we did then." She smiled at the two new knights. "Sheng, you have the Trom armor on? You have your dart gun?"
"Absolutely," Argent said. "You will find I am always ready!"
"All right. First, Trom Girl. Put on a coat or something over your operations suit. You can't walk around like that in Manhattan without drawing too much attention." Bane gave the faintest of smiles. "You look like a commando or something."
"Very well," she answered and raced up the stairs toward her room on the third floor. As they waited, Bane's Link buzzed and he answered it. "Hello? Walter? Hi, what's up?" He talked for a few minutes, thanked the caller and replaced the device to his belt. "That was Wilbur Schlegel. One of my observers. He says Calebdar has been spotted out in Queens, walking around his residential neighborhood." He frowned. "Wilbur didn't sound quite like himself. He's usually very chatty."
"He's getting old," Cindy said, "maybe he doesn't feel well."
"Maybe," the Dire Wolf conceded but he didn't sound convinced. "He hasn't been wrong yet, I trust his observations." He was frowning as Megan came hurrying back down the stairs in a long white topcoat that reached to her knees. "Much better," he told her. "Team, we're going to Forest Hills in Queens in two of our cars. Cindy will go with Sheng, using her powers to search for Calebdar. Megan will go with me. As soon as we spot the enemy, we contact each other and move in. I don't think he's likely to be carrying a gun but he IS a warlock and he's had ten years to learn more magick, so he will be dangerous. Last time, he had two Melgar warriors as bodyguards."
With that, Bane led his three teammates through the back panel of a walk-in closet by the front door, down steep concrete steps and along a narrow passage to the underground garage. It was just big enough to hold two cars without crowding. He took the dark green Mustang, Megan climbing into the passenger seat. Cindy got behind the wheel of the black Toyota Camry and unlocked the door for Sheng. Both cars had been inspected by Bane the night before as thoroughly as if he were checking an aircraft before takeoff. One after the other, the KDF members drove up the steep ramp as a steel panel slid upward to let them out in an alley that opened on Lexington Avenue.
Bane drove as warily as he did everything else, constantly checking his mirrors and watching other cars as if expecting an attack. The more time she spent with him, the more Megan Salenger realized her captain lived in a state of constant high alert. She wondered why it never seemed to wear him down, why he didn't show any effects of the stress, but he seemed to thrive on tense situations. Finally, she said, "Who is this Wilbur Schlegel who called you?"
"Wilbur? One of my oldest observers." Bane stopped at a red light and turned to look at her inquisitive face. "Whenever I helped somebody, instead of a reward I usually asked them to report to me anything weird or dangerous they saw. It's worked out better than I hoped. Over the years, I've gotten dozens of leads on everything from Samhain to Those Who Remember. Wilbur has sort of dedicated himself to doing research for me, he's been an enormous help."
Trom Girl hesitated. "What did you do that put him in your debt so much? If that's not prying. I'm still uncertain about some Human interactions."
"His daughter had been kidnapped by a Nekrosan called Golgora. I got her back safely. Wilbur has spent his free time researching the Midnight War ever since." Bane scowled. "It bothers me the way he sounded on the phone. Something not quite right..." He turned for the Queens Midtown Tunnel.
Watching his intense expression, Megan again reflected on the dangerous world her captain had lived in all his life. The Midnight War, the same secret world she was entering herself now....
IV.
Calebdar emerged through the door to the cellar in which he had left Shelgel tied up with knots unnecessarily tight. "The Dire Wolf has taken the bait!" he chuckled. "He should be almost here now. The anticipation is delicious."
Sitting on the couch in the living room, which was crammed with books and magazines and folders of clippings, Miruvar turned away from the TV. She had been watching cable news and was a little dazed by war footage of fighter jets and explosions. "What do you wish me to do, father?"
"You shall lure him in here where I will take him by surprise," the warlock told her. "Say I have gone out, you know not where. Say I have brought you here without explanation. He is a Human fool, he will believe you." Calebdar had taken off his raincoat in the rather stuffy, overheated house. He was wearing a simple dark suit with a tan dress shirt but no tie. "Oh, the waiting has been worth it. The research I have done. Finding out about this spy who works for Bane and who informs him of any Midnight War activity. Setting this trap has been easier than I dreamed."
Miruvar asked, "Is it worth it, father? Now you may never return home. And for what? Revenge?"
Startlingly fast, Calebdar stepped forward and slapped her so hard across the face her head twisted to one side and she almost fell. "Silence! You forget your station, child. It is not for you to question me, merely obey."
Miruvar straightened, pressing the back of one hand to her cheek. For an instant, rage blazed up in her eyes but she masked it and seemed meek again. "Forgive me, father. I mean no harm."
"You are getting to be as brash as your mother was," he growled. "A Melgar family can have but one head. I think we have been living too long in this country America."
The daughter said nothing, and after a moment Calebdar exhaled sharply. "Look! Out that window. Getting out of that car. It's the Dire Wolf. I don't recognize the girl with him. Follow my instructions, child." With that, the Melgar warlock stepped through the door to the cellar and left it barely ajar. Giving that door a cold glare, Miruvar strode toward the front door and opened it just as Bane and Megan stepped up onto the porch.
V.
Getting out of the Mustang, Bane studied the unimpressive white house just down the block from where he had parked. "This is where Wilbur lives," he told Megan. "I want to talk him before we start hunting Calebdar." He started walking and she trotted to keep up with his quick strides. They paused before the porch with its wooden bench and low round table.
"Stay sharp," the Dire Wolf said in a low voice. "Something feels wrong." He placed a foot on the porch and the front door opened to reveal a blonde woman in plain white sweater and navy blue pants. She met their gaze with a cool lack of invitation.
"Good morning," Bane said. "We're here to see Wilbur. Is he home?"
"Yes. Please come in." She took a step backward and held the door open. Bane entered with Trom Girl right behind him, standing in the kitchen. The Dire Wolf had been here a few times before, nothing seemed out of place. He did not recognize this girl. She looked maybe seventeen, five feet six and one hundred fifteen pounds or so. He said, "I don't think we've met."
"We haven't," she answered and with that, Bane caught her accent. Androval. His left hand blurred up with the anesthetic dart gun pointed at her as he took a step back to be beyond arm's reach.
"You're a Melgar! You must be working with Calebdar. Okay, where is he?"
"Here." The single word brought Bane swiveling around with the dart gun raised. Standing in the next room, the warlock leered as the skin on his forehead creased and opened to reveal the staring Third Eye. Caught in that emerald glare, the Dire Wolf froze in place, barely breathing.
"Do not move," Calebdar commanded. "Stand still. Good."
Megan Salenger said, "Captain....?" just as she caught movement from the corner of her eye. The blonde girl was swinging a fist at her, and she reacted by stepping to one side and deflecting it with a slap. But Miruvar was a Melgar, stronger than any Human her size and build, and that contact stung sharply. Megan felt her arm go numb from the blow. She snapped the projector device from its plate on her belt with her other hand and raised it just an instant too late. Miruvar struck a hard backhand that caught the Trom Girl on the side of the face with a sharp smacking sound. With no Kumundu training yet, Megan took the full blow and dropped to her knees, catching herself on one hand. She was dazed enough that her normally quick thinking was slowed.
"Use your weapon on her," she heard Calebdar say and she looked up just in time to see Bane pointing the needle-thin barrel of the anesthetic dart gun at her. "Captain, no!" she shouted and jumped up as the CO2 cartridge coughed and she felt the sudden jabbing pain on the side of her neck. The potent anesthetic developed by her own people made her mind get dazed and foggy instantly. Megan Salenger slumped down and passed out even as her face hit the wooden floor.
Automatically, Bane holstered the dart gun behind his left hip. Still focussing the Third Eye on him, Calebdar snapped, "Do not move with my orders! Stand still, I tell you." The Melgar went over and checked that Megan was unconscious. He grabbed her under the arms and raised her upper half off the floor.
"Miruvar, what are you waiting for?" he barked. "Take her legs, you little fool."
"As you wish," his daughter answered stiffly. She helped him pick Trom Girl up and they dropped her roughly onto the ancient couch in the living room. Miruvar gazed down at the pale face of a girl her own age. "And this one?" she asked. "Must she die as well?"
Caledbar exploded with outrage. "Again you question me? It is not for you to know my plans! Do not force me to beat you, Miruvar. Keep in your place."
This time, the Melgar girl did not trust herself to answer. The side of her face was still sore.
VI.
Every few blocks, Cindy Brunner found a parking spot and pulled over to search with her mind for traces of either her teammates or their targets. She narrowed her eyes as her perception widened, then sighed each time and pulled out into traffic again. "This would be easier if you could drive," she said.
"I have only been in your world a few days each month," answered Sheng in a slightly hurt voice.
"I know, I'm not criticizing you. I know you have started training in a dozen skills
since you came here from Chujir." The little blonde stopped at a red light and again expanded her telepathic awareness in all directions. "I'm just a little worried about Jeremy and Megan, that's natural."
Argent was staring out the window as they passed through a pleasant neighborhood of neatly kept tiny lawns and houses in good repair. "Sifu Tang recommended me to join your team. I knew she had come from the world beyond Chujir, that she had been a Tel Shai knight, but it never occurred to me that I could do the same." He swung his head to watch the telepath as she drove. "When our captain came to Chujir and helped us defeat the Smiling Brethren, I was amazed. His speed. His skill. I had not known there was anyone else who could compare with me."
"There's only one Jeremy Bane," Cindy chuckled. "I don't know if the world could handle another one. But you have your own powers, Sheng. The way you can shift from strength to speed to durability... with experience, you will be a great Tel Shai knight."
"Of course. But that's good to hear from you," Argent said.
Cindy smiled at his confidence. "Well, we're not making much progress this way. Maybe you should buzz Jeremy on his Link and see what's up with them."
Groping at his belt, Argent came up with the device, scrutinized its complex keypad and pressed a few flat tabs. They both listened to the buzzes for thirty seconds. "No answer," he said finally.
"Can you pull up his location?"
"Yes. Let me see. There's the yellow blip. He's not far, ten blocks ahead of us. Or at least his Link is." Sheng studied the grid. "233 Street."
"That's where Wilbur Schlegel's house is," Cindy said. "All right, Argent, let's see what's up." She sped up and barely slowed at a stop sign. In a few minutes, they spotted the green Mustang parked on the other side of the street and Cindy eased into a spot a little too near the curb to avoid a ticket if a cop came by. She stared over at the familiar house.
"Not good," she said quietly. "Jeremy and Megan are in there, they're alive but not fully conscious. Come on, Sheng." The blonde telepath jumped from behind the wheel, slamming the door behind her and raced across the street. Argent was right at her heels. He was not sure what she had detected but he could see her anxiety. They leaped up onto the porch and through the half-closed front door into the kitchen.
Cindy had drawn her dart gun and was holding it up by her face with both hands as they entered the living room. Megan Salenger was lying on the couch, trying weakly to sit up. Bane stood in a corner of the room, head down as if deep in thought and unaware of their entrance. A bloodied corpse sprawled in the center of the parlor.
Calebdar of Androval was lying on his back, a wide stain of bright crimson spread across his shirt. He was dead. Even if Cindy's powers did not confirm that, the corpse's glassy staring eyes and obvious deep chest wound showed it. The body had been mutilated, too. Across its forehead was a gouge several inches deep, as if something had been dug out of the skull. Lying nearby was a common butcher knife with a wood handle, its blade caked with gore.
Cindy went to Bane and raised his head, reaching out to make contact. At once, he blinked and shook his head roughly as awareness returned. "Cin? What? What's the situation?"
"You tell me," she answered. They looked over as Megan managed to sit up, recovering from the effects of the anesthetic. The Trom Girl was groggy. "Captain. You shot me with a dart."
"I did?" Bane said. "The last I remember was facing Calebdar. He had something on his forehead, something... the Third Eye."
It took a few minutes before they got the story straightened out by comparing what Bane and Megan remembered. Cindy picked up on the mind of Wilbur Schlegel in the basement, deep in a trance, and Argent raced down to carry the man back upstairs.
"He'll be all right," the telepath said after examining him a few moments. "I think he'll wake up normally in a little while. Jeremy, what do you think happened here?"
The Dire Wolf was examining the corpse carefully, having put on latex gloves from an inner pocket. "He hasn't been dead long," he said thoughtfully. "Body's not at room temperature yet, blood is wet. Sure looks as if that Third Eye was removed from his head with the same knife that killed him." He stood up and tugged off the gloves. "Unless we find signs of someone else in the house, it seems his own daughter did this."
"Miruvar," Cindy said quietly. "I'm not picking up a trace of her within range. She must have taken off."
"This is not acceptable at all," Bane growled. "Now we have to start looking for her and for all we know, she's already back in Androval." He poked the corpse with the toe of his boot. "Well, at least Calebdar is finished. We can close his file."
Gazing down at the body, Megan folded her arms and took a deep breath. "I wonder why she did it?"
Heading north on the Grand Central Parkway, a truck with HORN OF PLENTY NATURAL FOODS painted on its sides rolled along. The driver stared straight ahead with a slightly blank expression. He did not know why he had picked this young girl up against all the rules, nor why he had changed direction and was driving up toward the airport. Beside him, Miruvar counted the money she had taken from her father and decided it would do for the moment. She could easily get more now. Seeing that the driver was under control, the Melgar girl allowed the Third Eye on her forehead to close.
8/23/2014
9/21/1999
I.
In the dim twilight of early morning, standing before one of a row of nearly identical whiteboard one-story houses in Queens, Calebdar studied the numbers posted by the front door. 733. Yes, he recognized them. He could not read English, of course, his scholarship had been in Darthan magick and forbidden secrets of the Sulla Chun and he had never planned on coming into the world beyond Androval. But he could cope with recognizing three numbers.
Unlike the typical Melgar, Calebdar was short, not more than five foot six, and thin. His loose raincoat did not lend bulk to his slight frame. The warlock had a long, bony face with deepset dark eyes and a wide flat nose; a slouch hat pulled low concealed most of that face. "Now we begin," he told his daughter beside him.
Miruvar was the same height and weight as her father, but her hair was dark blonde like her mother's and she had her mother's chiseled features with high cheekbones and a slightly cleft chin. The girl was bundled in a plain cloth coat, with a white scarf around her throat, and she had put the suitcases down on the sidewalk beside them.
"This realm is still so strange, father. I am not at ease here, so many Humans rushing about, these loud carriages with no horses to pull them, the high towers. I wish we were back in Androval."
"Cease your whining," Calebdar snapped. "You know what waits for me at home. Do you wish to kneel and place your head on the block? I for one do not. Come, follow me." He went through the tiny front yard and up onto the porch of the house, rapping sharply with his knuckles on the front door. Behind him, Miruvar sighed and lifted both heavy suitcases to trudge behind him. Within a few seconds, the door swung open and a stout middle-aged man with thick-lensed glasses greeted them.
"You DID come!" he laughed. "I still can't quite believe it. Welcome, welcome to the world. Please come in. You must be Miruvar, let me help you with those." Wilbur Schlegel took a suitcase from the girl's grasp and led them into his house. He was a solid, warm presence in a plain white dress shirt and black slacks, with a beige cardigan. Only a fringe of white hair circled his head behind his ears.
"I've never been to any of the adjacent realms," Schlegel gushed, "And I was SO excited to communicate with you. A scholar from Androval. Please, please, let me know anything you need. I'm at your service."
"More than that," said Calebdar, stepping closer. In the center of his forehead, the skin wrinkled and peeled apart as a bright green eye opened where no eye should be. Its iris flashed with a lambent light from within, and Wilbur Schlegel froze paralyzed with deep terror at the sight.
"More than that," the Melgar warlock repeated as the Third Eye took hold of its victim. "You are but a slave with a new master."
II.
Trom Girl was up by five-thirty every morning, without any need for an alarm. She showered and groomed herself in the adjoining bathroom, then dressed quickly in plain white sneakers, denim jeans and a dark blue blouse with two breast pockets. At eighteen, she was small and slim, not more than five foot three and one hundred pounds, with an alert foxy face under a shag of thick black hair. Megan inspected her quarters, but of course everything was clean and neat. The room contained a double bed, a dresser with a big mirror, a TV set on a stand, a low table with two chairs, and a closet; all the member quarters in the KDF building were furnished this way, comfortable but not luxurious. Most had been untouched for almost a decade.
Although she had been staying here frequently the past month while the new team was being organized, she had not personalized her room at all. There were no framed photos, no nick-nacks or little statues or potted plants. All her personal gear was stowed away out of sight. Now she opened the top drawer of the nightstand by her bed and fetched her wallet and keys to stick them in her pants pockets. Leaving the room, Trom Girl clicked off the light and closed the door behind her, then trotted quickly across the hall to the elevator.
Here on the third floor were the private quarters, where so far only Bane and Cindy were permanent residents in their adjoining rooms. The hall was lined with shelves absolutely crammed with ancient books seemingly in no particular order and this irritated Megan unreasonably. All her training and natural disposition urged her to start organizing those books into some semblance of a system, but she knew that would take years. Kenneth Dred had been collecting those volumes on the Midnight War and the occult for five decades, and there was no telling how many thousands of them were stored in this building.
When the cage arrived, she rode it to the ninth floor, got off and hurried up steep cement steps to the hangar. This had once been the roof of the old building until Bane had its walls erected and a roof put on with a huge sliding panel. Here was stored the black stealth copter CORBY. Megan flicked on the bright fluorescent lights and glanced over at the craft. It needed so many upgrades and improvements, but the Links had to come first. She sighed without realizing it and went over to a work bench where seven electronic devices sat in a row, surrounded by tools and loose parts. Megan slid a stool over, dropped down on it and eagerly got to work.
The Links looked rather like remote controls with a video screen, but they were advanced communications and sensory devices no Human technology could match at this point. The Trom who used the name Leonard Slade had crafted them while he had been a KDF member. He had been dead for nine years now, and although the Links still functioned, they were hopelessly outdated by Trom standards. For the moment, Megan had to content herself with adjusting them and making small improvements until she had time for complete overhauls. For the next hour, she sat on that stool without fidgeting, opening panels in the Links to replace nearly-microscopic parts, cleaning and tuning up and resetting.
At seven, a buzzer sounded in the hangar. Despite her upbringing by the Trom, Megan was Human enough to give a start. "Good morning," she said quietly.
"Morning," came Cindy's husky voice. "Ready for another day. I bet you're not in your room, are you?"
"No," Megan admitted. "I'm in the hangar, upgrading the Links."
"Work, work, work," said the blonde telepath over the speaker. "Get yourself down to the kitchen, breakfast is underway."
"Understood," answered Trom Girl, automatically straightening out the Links and replacing the tools to their slots. She jumped up and left the hangar, rode the elevator down to the first floor and stepped out into a wide hallway with a bannisterd staircase facing the front door which opened on East 38th Street. This hall was lined with more of the bookshelves, but also had a few artifacts on the wall and two paintings. As soon as she stepped out of the elevator, she caught the aroma of bacon sizzling and her stomach growled audibly. Megan smiled faintly to herself and went into the kitchen.
Everything was stainless steel and dark polished wood. In one corner under a curtained window was a round table with four straightback chairs. At the stove, Jeremy Bane was juggling two cast iron frying pans which held bacon in one and scrambled eggs in another. He looked up and nodded as Megan entered. "Hey, Trom Girl," he said. "Comfortable in your new quarters?"
"My room is acceptable," she answered without realizing how graceless her statements sometimes were. "I will have the Links ready for use within another hour after I resume work." Megan came over to stand beside her captain. "Do you have instructions for me to help?"
"What? Oh, no, I've got this covered. Get something to drink and have a seat for a moment." Bane was six feet tall, but gaunt enough that he seemed a bit taller. The black long-sleeved turtleneck and slacks made him look even thinner. The Dire Wolf turned his pale grey eyes on Megan for a second appraisingly, then went back to his cooking. He wasn't aware of this. It was automatic for him to constantly be wary of everything and everyone, a lifetime spent in the Midnight War had given him habitual suspicion.
"Cindy will be back in a minute," he said as he got some plates from a cabinet over the sink. "She went to get a few newspapers. We might have a new case today."
"What would that be?" asked Megan, sitting bolt upright at the table with her hands folded in front of her. Being raised by the Trom had left her more formal than a typical Human her age.
"I'm not sure yet. I got a few reports from some of our observers. Calebdar has been spotted in the metropolitan area. He's caused trouble in the past."
"That's an understatement!" snorted Cindy from the doorway. The blonde telepath came in and dropped three newspapers on the dining table. As she shrugged out of her windbreaker, Cindy went on, "The last time he turned up, he got Red Sect slaughtered and you had a broken arm."
Megan was torn between the conversation and her urge to start examining the papers. "Who is this Calebdar?"
"He's a Melgar warlock," Bane answered. "The Melgarin don't have a lot of mystics, but the ones they do produce are both powerful and dangerous." He put plates down on the table as Cindy went to fetch silverware and drinking glasses. Bottles of apple juice and milk followed. While Bane shoveled the eggs and bacon onto their plates, Cindy put slices of whole wheat bread into the toaster.
Bane seated himself and began to dig in. Before Cindy could join them, a chime overhead alerted them that the front door had opened. Since no alarms had gone off, it could only mean the newcomer was one of a handful of people. The little blonde reached out with her mind for the barest instant, then grinned. "Sheng," she announced, "just in time for breakfast. Why am I not surprised?"
A young man who looked Chinese but who was from the realm of Chujir stuck his head in the doorway with a grin. Sheng Mo-Yuan, called Argent, was short and broad, with a wide flat face and thick glossy black hair. Today he was wearing plain canvas sneakers, light blue jeans and a blue work shirt with the cuffs rolled up to the elbows. "Good morning!" he called cheerfully. "Oh, I'm in luck, I didn't think breakfast would be this early."
III.
Miruvar placed the dirtied plates and bowls in the sink, then turned to where her father was still sitting at the table with a last cup of coffee. If only her mother were alive, she had been able to keep Calebdar's ambitions in check. But pneumonia had claimed her the previous year and now Miruvar could only obey whatever her father ordered. As a good Melgar girl, filial duty outweighed her own misgivings. She had watched him delve deeper into Darthan lore, even studying under a Kje on Maroch itself. And now he had that Third Eye of Dominance. She had followed his studies, observed his rituals and read his scrolls while he slept. Although she had never told him, Miruvar understood nearly as much forbidden knowledge as Calebdar did.
"You have not told me your plans, father," she said meekly as she walked over to stand before him.
The Melgar warlock scoffed. "That's because you don't need to know them! An enemy cannot force knowledge from you that you do not possess."
"May I be seated?"
"Eh, yes. Of course. Listen, Miruvar! You have been a good obedient daughter all these years. I can never return to Androval, but soon I want you to go home and find a decent Melgar lad and bear him a son or two. But first... I still need your assistance in this world." He drained the last of the coffee and shoved the cup aside annoyedly.
She took a hesitant breath. "I was not with you when you came to this world.. when you fought the Human called Dire Wolf."
"Miruvar, you are getting bold beyond your place. Yes. You were but seven when I came here to study with the sorcerers of Red Sect. Naturally I left you with your mother, Akuran rest her spirit. It was while I sat at the feet of Red Sect and listened to their lore, that the group was suddenly attacked. A Human, with eyes the color of ice, with an Ensalir dagger blazing in each hand. Apparently he had some long grudge with Red Sect and he attacked them without warning." Calebdar shook his head at the memory. "Dire Wolf! His true name is Jeremy Bane, I later found out."
"Please tell me more," the girl asked simply.
"Oh, very well. Why not? I had brought with me two bodyguards, seasoned arena champions both of them. Dire Wolf slew them both, though he suffered a broken arm in the fight. Would that it had been his neck! All the mystics of Red Sect were slain, as were my two bullyboys, and this Bane took me prisoner. He treated me without due respect. He brought me back to Androval where King Holmir himself decreed my punishment. I may never leave our realm again, if I did I should be face execution. And now I have defied that edict! The Dire Wolf will not go unpunished." Calebdar raised his scowling face toward his child. "Not only will Jeremy Bane die, he will suffer first."
As he spoke, the front door opened and Wilbur Schlegel entered. His face was not completely blank, not expressionless enough to draw notice, but he looked distracted and her eyes were distant. He held out a white envelope to his new master. "One thousand, six hundred dollars. As you commanded, all I had in my account."
"Good," Calebdar said. "I learned on my last visit that money is useful in this world. Very well, thrall, I think I have only one further use for you. Then you may as well die..."
"Father, wait!"
" 'Wait?' "he repeated. "Do you give me orders now?"
"No, never. But I have a thought I feel I must share. If this man has family or friends who will come to see him, he must be alive to send them away." Miruvar bowed her glossy head low. "I but seek to help."
Calebdar rose and the Third Eye opened on his forehead, blinking as normally as his two natural eyes. He turned to his slave. "Answer me fully and honestly. Will anyone call on you today?"
"My sister might. We talk every few days," Schlegel answered calmly. "She will only get my answering machine."
"Do you have to go to work? Do you have any social engagements?"
"No. Today is Sunday. I have no plans." He talked as naturally as if he were not being dominated by gralic force.
"Good," said Calebdar. "Good. Then you may live a while longer. It's unfortunate the Eye can only control one mind at a time. Very well. I will have you make one phone call to your friend, the Dire Wolf. Go into the next room and wait." As Schlegel left the room, the warlock turned to his daughter. "I will bind him with ropes. Later, perhaps, we will see he has food and drink, but for now I just want him out of the way. Why do you look at me that witless way?"
Miruvar bowed her head again. "It is not for me to criticize,father."
"Remember that! I fear you are getting soft-hearted, child. We are outlaws, living beyond the law and we must be cold and hard. Never let mercy stay your hand. Do you hear me?"
She lifted her head slowly to fix her dark blue eyes on him. "I hear and understand."
III.
By nine, Megan Salenger had completed the upgrades on the Links and handed them out. She had changed into her tight jumpsuit of dark material, fitted with numerous pouches and pockets, high boots and military collar. Her belt held three flat devices on magnetic plates and a metal disc the size of a dinner plate was strapped between her shoulder plates. "Ready for duty, captain," she announced with immense seriousness.
Holstering his Link on the side of his belt, Jeremy Bane tugged his sport jacket over to conceal it. As always, he was all in black.. slacks, long-sleeved turtleneck and jacket, what was essentially the uniform for which he was known in the Midnight War. He turned those pale grey eyes on the girl. "Megan, you are not officially a KDF member yet. We still have preparations to complete. Tel Shai has accepted you..and you, Sheng.. but your training has barely begun."
"Formalities, surely," Sheng shrugged. "We have already had a few cases together, captain. The Smiling Brethren. Don Coyote. Let the legend of Argent begin."
The Dire Wolf nodded, inwardly amused at the young man's zeal. "I think so, too. Naturally I have some misgivings. Ah well, the world needs heroes, Argent, and you two will be good ones."
Stepping closer, Cindy clapped him lightly across the back. "They're not any younger than we were when we started, Jeremy. And we know more now than we did then." She smiled at the two new knights. "Sheng, you have the Trom armor on? You have your dart gun?"
"Absolutely," Argent said. "You will find I am always ready!"
"All right. First, Trom Girl. Put on a coat or something over your operations suit. You can't walk around like that in Manhattan without drawing too much attention." Bane gave the faintest of smiles. "You look like a commando or something."
"Very well," she answered and raced up the stairs toward her room on the third floor. As they waited, Bane's Link buzzed and he answered it. "Hello? Walter? Hi, what's up?" He talked for a few minutes, thanked the caller and replaced the device to his belt. "That was Wilbur Schlegel. One of my observers. He says Calebdar has been spotted out in Queens, walking around his residential neighborhood." He frowned. "Wilbur didn't sound quite like himself. He's usually very chatty."
"He's getting old," Cindy said, "maybe he doesn't feel well."
"Maybe," the Dire Wolf conceded but he didn't sound convinced. "He hasn't been wrong yet, I trust his observations." He was frowning as Megan came hurrying back down the stairs in a long white topcoat that reached to her knees. "Much better," he told her. "Team, we're going to Forest Hills in Queens in two of our cars. Cindy will go with Sheng, using her powers to search for Calebdar. Megan will go with me. As soon as we spot the enemy, we contact each other and move in. I don't think he's likely to be carrying a gun but he IS a warlock and he's had ten years to learn more magick, so he will be dangerous. Last time, he had two Melgar warriors as bodyguards."
With that, Bane led his three teammates through the back panel of a walk-in closet by the front door, down steep concrete steps and along a narrow passage to the underground garage. It was just big enough to hold two cars without crowding. He took the dark green Mustang, Megan climbing into the passenger seat. Cindy got behind the wheel of the black Toyota Camry and unlocked the door for Sheng. Both cars had been inspected by Bane the night before as thoroughly as if he were checking an aircraft before takeoff. One after the other, the KDF members drove up the steep ramp as a steel panel slid upward to let them out in an alley that opened on Lexington Avenue.
Bane drove as warily as he did everything else, constantly checking his mirrors and watching other cars as if expecting an attack. The more time she spent with him, the more Megan Salenger realized her captain lived in a state of constant high alert. She wondered why it never seemed to wear him down, why he didn't show any effects of the stress, but he seemed to thrive on tense situations. Finally, she said, "Who is this Wilbur Schlegel who called you?"
"Wilbur? One of my oldest observers." Bane stopped at a red light and turned to look at her inquisitive face. "Whenever I helped somebody, instead of a reward I usually asked them to report to me anything weird or dangerous they saw. It's worked out better than I hoped. Over the years, I've gotten dozens of leads on everything from Samhain to Those Who Remember. Wilbur has sort of dedicated himself to doing research for me, he's been an enormous help."
Trom Girl hesitated. "What did you do that put him in your debt so much? If that's not prying. I'm still uncertain about some Human interactions."
"His daughter had been kidnapped by a Nekrosan called Golgora. I got her back safely. Wilbur has spent his free time researching the Midnight War ever since." Bane scowled. "It bothers me the way he sounded on the phone. Something not quite right..." He turned for the Queens Midtown Tunnel.
Watching his intense expression, Megan again reflected on the dangerous world her captain had lived in all his life. The Midnight War, the same secret world she was entering herself now....
IV.
Calebdar emerged through the door to the cellar in which he had left Shelgel tied up with knots unnecessarily tight. "The Dire Wolf has taken the bait!" he chuckled. "He should be almost here now. The anticipation is delicious."
Sitting on the couch in the living room, which was crammed with books and magazines and folders of clippings, Miruvar turned away from the TV. She had been watching cable news and was a little dazed by war footage of fighter jets and explosions. "What do you wish me to do, father?"
"You shall lure him in here where I will take him by surprise," the warlock told her. "Say I have gone out, you know not where. Say I have brought you here without explanation. He is a Human fool, he will believe you." Calebdar had taken off his raincoat in the rather stuffy, overheated house. He was wearing a simple dark suit with a tan dress shirt but no tie. "Oh, the waiting has been worth it. The research I have done. Finding out about this spy who works for Bane and who informs him of any Midnight War activity. Setting this trap has been easier than I dreamed."
Miruvar asked, "Is it worth it, father? Now you may never return home. And for what? Revenge?"
Startlingly fast, Calebdar stepped forward and slapped her so hard across the face her head twisted to one side and she almost fell. "Silence! You forget your station, child. It is not for you to question me, merely obey."
Miruvar straightened, pressing the back of one hand to her cheek. For an instant, rage blazed up in her eyes but she masked it and seemed meek again. "Forgive me, father. I mean no harm."
"You are getting to be as brash as your mother was," he growled. "A Melgar family can have but one head. I think we have been living too long in this country America."
The daughter said nothing, and after a moment Calebdar exhaled sharply. "Look! Out that window. Getting out of that car. It's the Dire Wolf. I don't recognize the girl with him. Follow my instructions, child." With that, the Melgar warlock stepped through the door to the cellar and left it barely ajar. Giving that door a cold glare, Miruvar strode toward the front door and opened it just as Bane and Megan stepped up onto the porch.
V.
Getting out of the Mustang, Bane studied the unimpressive white house just down the block from where he had parked. "This is where Wilbur lives," he told Megan. "I want to talk him before we start hunting Calebdar." He started walking and she trotted to keep up with his quick strides. They paused before the porch with its wooden bench and low round table.
"Stay sharp," the Dire Wolf said in a low voice. "Something feels wrong." He placed a foot on the porch and the front door opened to reveal a blonde woman in plain white sweater and navy blue pants. She met their gaze with a cool lack of invitation.
"Good morning," Bane said. "We're here to see Wilbur. Is he home?"
"Yes. Please come in." She took a step backward and held the door open. Bane entered with Trom Girl right behind him, standing in the kitchen. The Dire Wolf had been here a few times before, nothing seemed out of place. He did not recognize this girl. She looked maybe seventeen, five feet six and one hundred fifteen pounds or so. He said, "I don't think we've met."
"We haven't," she answered and with that, Bane caught her accent. Androval. His left hand blurred up with the anesthetic dart gun pointed at her as he took a step back to be beyond arm's reach.
"You're a Melgar! You must be working with Calebdar. Okay, where is he?"
"Here." The single word brought Bane swiveling around with the dart gun raised. Standing in the next room, the warlock leered as the skin on his forehead creased and opened to reveal the staring Third Eye. Caught in that emerald glare, the Dire Wolf froze in place, barely breathing.
"Do not move," Calebdar commanded. "Stand still. Good."
Megan Salenger said, "Captain....?" just as she caught movement from the corner of her eye. The blonde girl was swinging a fist at her, and she reacted by stepping to one side and deflecting it with a slap. But Miruvar was a Melgar, stronger than any Human her size and build, and that contact stung sharply. Megan felt her arm go numb from the blow. She snapped the projector device from its plate on her belt with her other hand and raised it just an instant too late. Miruvar struck a hard backhand that caught the Trom Girl on the side of the face with a sharp smacking sound. With no Kumundu training yet, Megan took the full blow and dropped to her knees, catching herself on one hand. She was dazed enough that her normally quick thinking was slowed.
"Use your weapon on her," she heard Calebdar say and she looked up just in time to see Bane pointing the needle-thin barrel of the anesthetic dart gun at her. "Captain, no!" she shouted and jumped up as the CO2 cartridge coughed and she felt the sudden jabbing pain on the side of her neck. The potent anesthetic developed by her own people made her mind get dazed and foggy instantly. Megan Salenger slumped down and passed out even as her face hit the wooden floor.
Automatically, Bane holstered the dart gun behind his left hip. Still focussing the Third Eye on him, Calebdar snapped, "Do not move with my orders! Stand still, I tell you." The Melgar went over and checked that Megan was unconscious. He grabbed her under the arms and raised her upper half off the floor.
"Miruvar, what are you waiting for?" he barked. "Take her legs, you little fool."
"As you wish," his daughter answered stiffly. She helped him pick Trom Girl up and they dropped her roughly onto the ancient couch in the living room. Miruvar gazed down at the pale face of a girl her own age. "And this one?" she asked. "Must she die as well?"
Caledbar exploded with outrage. "Again you question me? It is not for you to know my plans! Do not force me to beat you, Miruvar. Keep in your place."
This time, the Melgar girl did not trust herself to answer. The side of her face was still sore.
VI.
Every few blocks, Cindy Brunner found a parking spot and pulled over to search with her mind for traces of either her teammates or their targets. She narrowed her eyes as her perception widened, then sighed each time and pulled out into traffic again. "This would be easier if you could drive," she said.
"I have only been in your world a few days each month," answered Sheng in a slightly hurt voice.
"I know, I'm not criticizing you. I know you have started training in a dozen skills
since you came here from Chujir." The little blonde stopped at a red light and again expanded her telepathic awareness in all directions. "I'm just a little worried about Jeremy and Megan, that's natural."
Argent was staring out the window as they passed through a pleasant neighborhood of neatly kept tiny lawns and houses in good repair. "Sifu Tang recommended me to join your team. I knew she had come from the world beyond Chujir, that she had been a Tel Shai knight, but it never occurred to me that I could do the same." He swung his head to watch the telepath as she drove. "When our captain came to Chujir and helped us defeat the Smiling Brethren, I was amazed. His speed. His skill. I had not known there was anyone else who could compare with me."
"There's only one Jeremy Bane," Cindy chuckled. "I don't know if the world could handle another one. But you have your own powers, Sheng. The way you can shift from strength to speed to durability... with experience, you will be a great Tel Shai knight."
"Of course. But that's good to hear from you," Argent said.
Cindy smiled at his confidence. "Well, we're not making much progress this way. Maybe you should buzz Jeremy on his Link and see what's up with them."
Groping at his belt, Argent came up with the device, scrutinized its complex keypad and pressed a few flat tabs. They both listened to the buzzes for thirty seconds. "No answer," he said finally.
"Can you pull up his location?"
"Yes. Let me see. There's the yellow blip. He's not far, ten blocks ahead of us. Or at least his Link is." Sheng studied the grid. "233 Street."
"That's where Wilbur Schlegel's house is," Cindy said. "All right, Argent, let's see what's up." She sped up and barely slowed at a stop sign. In a few minutes, they spotted the green Mustang parked on the other side of the street and Cindy eased into a spot a little too near the curb to avoid a ticket if a cop came by. She stared over at the familiar house.
"Not good," she said quietly. "Jeremy and Megan are in there, they're alive but not fully conscious. Come on, Sheng." The blonde telepath jumped from behind the wheel, slamming the door behind her and raced across the street. Argent was right at her heels. He was not sure what she had detected but he could see her anxiety. They leaped up onto the porch and through the half-closed front door into the kitchen.
Cindy had drawn her dart gun and was holding it up by her face with both hands as they entered the living room. Megan Salenger was lying on the couch, trying weakly to sit up. Bane stood in a corner of the room, head down as if deep in thought and unaware of their entrance. A bloodied corpse sprawled in the center of the parlor.
Calebdar of Androval was lying on his back, a wide stain of bright crimson spread across his shirt. He was dead. Even if Cindy's powers did not confirm that, the corpse's glassy staring eyes and obvious deep chest wound showed it. The body had been mutilated, too. Across its forehead was a gouge several inches deep, as if something had been dug out of the skull. Lying nearby was a common butcher knife with a wood handle, its blade caked with gore.
Cindy went to Bane and raised his head, reaching out to make contact. At once, he blinked and shook his head roughly as awareness returned. "Cin? What? What's the situation?"
"You tell me," she answered. They looked over as Megan managed to sit up, recovering from the effects of the anesthetic. The Trom Girl was groggy. "Captain. You shot me with a dart."
"I did?" Bane said. "The last I remember was facing Calebdar. He had something on his forehead, something... the Third Eye."
It took a few minutes before they got the story straightened out by comparing what Bane and Megan remembered. Cindy picked up on the mind of Wilbur Schlegel in the basement, deep in a trance, and Argent raced down to carry the man back upstairs.
"He'll be all right," the telepath said after examining him a few moments. "I think he'll wake up normally in a little while. Jeremy, what do you think happened here?"
The Dire Wolf was examining the corpse carefully, having put on latex gloves from an inner pocket. "He hasn't been dead long," he said thoughtfully. "Body's not at room temperature yet, blood is wet. Sure looks as if that Third Eye was removed from his head with the same knife that killed him." He stood up and tugged off the gloves. "Unless we find signs of someone else in the house, it seems his own daughter did this."
"Miruvar," Cindy said quietly. "I'm not picking up a trace of her within range. She must have taken off."
"This is not acceptable at all," Bane growled. "Now we have to start looking for her and for all we know, she's already back in Androval." He poked the corpse with the toe of his boot. "Well, at least Calebdar is finished. We can close his file."
Gazing down at the body, Megan folded her arms and took a deep breath. "I wonder why she did it?"
Heading north on the Grand Central Parkway, a truck with HORN OF PLENTY NATURAL FOODS painted on its sides rolled along. The driver stared straight ahead with a slightly blank expression. He did not know why he had picked this young girl up against all the rules, nor why he had changed direction and was driving up toward the airport. Beside him, Miruvar counted the money she had taken from her father and decided it would do for the moment. She could easily get more now. Seeing that the driver was under control, the Melgar girl allowed the Third Eye on her forehead to close.
8/23/2014