dochermes

"Forever Sundered"

7/7/2021

I.

On its paper plate sitting on a redwood picnic table, it was a perfectly good cheeseburger. The bun was lightly toasted, the yellow cheese had melted down over the crisp juicy meat with two pickle chips showing. Next to it stood a red Solo cup filled with bubbling root beer, beads of condensation on the cup in the muggy July heat. A few years ago, this would have been a treat for Carlo Ventura. He would have asked for nothing more.

But he had been sitting on the bench in front of the soda and cheeseburger for ten minutes without touching them. Around him, dozens of New Yorkers chatted happily at the street fair while a local band was playing decent versions of old 1990s rock music. So many pretty young women in minimal clothing strolled past that it felt like a parade. The hazy July sunlight gave everything a vague softness.

This is ridiculous, Carlo thought. He was a thin young man in a bright canary yellow T-shirt and white jeans, with a gym bag slung on its strap over one shoulder. The curly black hair and gaunt face with a sharp nose gave him a striking appearance. He looked like an intense, too-serious poet. Picking up the hamburger, he made himself take a good-sized bite and began chewing. It tasted even better than it had before he had entered the Midnight War because his senses were sharper. He could distinguish the tang of the pickle chips from the sesame seeds on the bun even as he chewed. As he swallowed, Carlo picked up the plastic cup and swigged a gulp of the chilled root beer. So familiar, and yet now unappealing. The sugar and the caffeine were not welcomed by his system.

The food and drink were the same. He had changed.

As if completing a tedious chore, Carlo ate some more of the burger. He had also bought a small cardboard tray of French fries and he popped a few of them in his mouth. Not so long ago, he would have wolfed everything down in a hurry. In the gym bag by his side, he felt the warm tingling presence of the Eyeless Helmet. That was another thing that troubled him. It had reached a point where he was no longer willing to leave Sagehelm behind when he left the KDF headquarters building.

Well before Jocelyn came into sight, Carlo detected her presence. He could not explain his enhanced perception and had given up on trying. In another minute, his teammate strode briskly up and dropped down on the bench opposite him, clapping one small hand on the redwood table. In her late thirties, Jocelyn Garimara drew some curious stares in Manhatan. Her naturally straight, thick black hair and smooth dark brown skin were not those of an American black woman. The distinctive facial features were those of her Aboriginal people in Northwest Australia and were exotic enough to fascinate strangers.

In her free hand, she held a piece of hot fried dough sprinkled with powdered sugar. "Hey, Carlo, something's eatin' you, what's the problem?"

The mystic did not immediately answer, watching her enthusiastically bite off a too-large chunk of fried dough. Where had his zest gone? "I don't know. I guess I've been through more changes than I expected."

"Mmmm. Yeah, I've seen it happen to you. It's that helmet. I've been reading about it in our files. Sagehelm wasn't really meant for a Human to wear. It was crafted by the Eldanarin, and we don't have their immortality or their group mind. You know, Jeremy says that Garrison Nebel got more philosophical and poetic the longer he kept Sagehelm."

Carlo managed to finish the hamburger. "The Teachers at Tel Shai aren't really much help either. I get the feeling they're waiting for me to figure things out on my own. It's getting me down, Joss."

"It may sound funny because I've got my Red Spectre living inside me," she said, "But I'm not psychic at all. I'm not even particularly spiritual. You hear all about Abos being connected to Nature and the Dreamtime and all that, but that's not me. I'm just here and now, feet on the ground. So I wouldn't be the best one to talk to about this, Carlo."

He shrugged and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, hands clasped. "Oh well, life goes on and things change. Anyway. You didn't come down here from 38th Street and find me by coincidence, Joss. What's up?"

"Sable sent me. We don't really have a mission as such, it's just a few hints and clues that have her worried. She wants the two of us to poke around."

Picking up his paper plate and empty cup, Carlo leaned way over and tossed them into an open-frame metal waste basket nearby. "What can you tell me?"

"There are three missing girls from the past month and one of them was found dead deep in the woods outside Hendrick, Pennsylvania. The other two had last been seen in Connecticut at a concert in New Haven. The police have been doing the usual investigation without results."

"Ah. Was there a concert near Hendrick featuring the same band or singer as the other two disappearances?"

Jocelyn stood up and pulled down her denim jacket, which she wore despite the heat. In its inner pockets were a dozen tiny gadgets and hidden at the small of her back was one of the KDF dart guns. "You're on the right track, Carlo. Yep. A sort of progressive rock group from a few years ago, Crescent Moon. Why are you smiling?"

"When I was fifteen, I had a major crush on the lead singer, like a million other boys. Her name was Despair Alvarado. So pretty and shy, hardly looking up when she sang. I hadn't thought about her in years."

"You may get a chance to meet her," Jocelyn said, starting to move over toward Avenue A. "And you can ask her why teenage girls are disappearing after going to one of her shows."

( the rest of the story )

"The World Is Our Arena"

1/8/2021

I.

Jeremy Bane actually felt the cold of the winter night for the first time in forty years. Closing his car door, he drew out a pair of thin leather gloves from his topcoat pocket and pulled them on. He didn't think he even owned a hat or scarf. On the Tagra tea regimen, his body had been enhanced enough that it adjusted to temperature extremes, just as it healing unnaturally fast from injuries. The Dire Wolf had become used to recovering from wounds or cracked bones or severe burns within a day or so. He didn't have to worry about infections or shock or even most poisons.

All that was gone now.

Standing in the secondary parking lot down the hill from Metro General, he absently rubbed the small of his back where a steady if not unbearable pain started after standing for a few minutes. The bruise on his chest he had received in that fight with Ulamak a week earlier still was sore. This was what normal people had to put up with, he thought. The aches and pains everyone talked about.

Bane made himself stand up straight and squared his shoulders. So what. He wouldn't let himself get discouraged. He was still the Dire Wolf, still faster than any normal Human. Rolling into the entrance was a long black sedan with windows tinted beyond the legal limit. He watched it pull into an empty space facing him. After a few minutes, both the front doors opened and two tall men in dark suits and white dress shirts got out. He recognized one, Agent Wilfred Granville.

With his Kumundu training, Bane knew from their stances and gaits that both men were armed, each with a pistol at the belt and a smaller LCP holstered to one ankle. But they were not intent on attacking him. Their body language said otherwise. And when Granville spoke, Bane caught the subvocal tremors of someone stressed but not angry.

"Good to see you again, Jeremy," the INTERCEPT operative began. "I didn't know there were going to be wind chill effects like this or I would have arranged the meeting in a diner."

"Hello, Wilfred. And you, we haven't met?"

"Agent Keith Gilmore. Glad to meet the famous Dire Wolf in person," said the other man.

"I officially retired six years ago," Bane said. "Yet I keep getting pulled back in for one last job, and it's always supposed to be something so dangerous no one else can handle it. What is the pitch this time?"

"An assassin. We're transporting a Chinese-American geneticist who has lived in North Korea the past decade, not that he wanted to. He was basically kidnapped and enslaved. Once he escaped from his handlers, as the cost of taking a bullet in the arm, we managed to get him back to the States. But someone has been sighted on his trail."

"Let me guess. A world class assassin. Not Dandelion, I hope?"

Granville made a disgusted noise. "Dandelion? No, she hasn't been heard from in years. No, this is a bare hands killer. You remember the Open Fist of Furious Buddha? The latest Master of that school has left a few broken bodies in Hawaii while trying to find Ling. Those were our men."

"Hmm. I don't know if I'm really needed," the Dire Wolf responded. "No matter how good they are, 're Furious Buddhas aren't bulletproof."

Off to one side, Gilmore added, "Our agents had their guns in their hands, standing out in the open and this killer still closed in on them and tore them apart. Our chief says a threat like this is more than normal human beings can handle..."

Not knowing he was going to react this way, Bane blew up. "I am so sick of this! You guys or the Mandate or Department 21 Black, you're all the same. You all lie so much. I can't believe a word you say. The hostages turn out to be your undercover men, the double agent is really just getting too old and you want him out of the way, the valuable secret papers turn out to be bribe money for some politician. I don't care any more. Goodbye, I'm leaving."

"Jeremy," came the quiet voice. "This isn't like you. You've always been in control."

"Well, maybe it's time I wasn't in control. I'm sixty-four. I've been fighting the Midnight War and criminals and spies since I was a teenager. Forget it. Find someone else."

Reaching out, Granville took Bane by one arm, which was a liberty few would dare. In the light from a lamppost overhead, the Dire Wolf's grey eyes flashed but he did not tug his arm away. After a second, Bane said, "As far as I know, Wilfred, you've been straight with me every time. You're one of the few. That's the only reason I even come out here tonight."

"There IS one more thing," the INTERCEPT agent said. "And that's why I thought you would want to be in on this. The new Furious Fist assassin is someone you have history with. You haven't forgotten Ethan Petrov?"

II.

Back in his Mustang heading out of the city, Bane fumed and gripped the steering wheel so hard his fingers hurt. He started deliberately taking deeper and slower breaths. Ethan! Of all people to have been trained by Furious Buddha. Like that school of assassins wasn't already deadly enough.

In part of his racing mind, the Dire Wolf recognized some of his anger came from self-reproach. He had allowed himself to check up on Ethan's activities at longer intervals and eventually had lost track of the man. The mental blocks that Cindy had telepathically put in the man's mind should have lasted a lifetime. Ethan should have been locked into a non-violent state where he could not have been shoved someone aside. That precaution had never failed before.

But then, this was the Open Fist of Furious Buddha. Their methods were nearly as ancient and effective as those of the Order of Tel Shai.

Ahead was Exit 7, leading toward New Dover. Traffic was sparse this close to dawn, and Bane had as always been automatically watching for any cars shadowing him ahead or behind. At the last second, he swung over up onto the ramp and hit a red light at the intersection of Crosby Road. No vehicles were in sight at he sat there.

Ethan Petrov, he thought with the rage building up again that he had to repress. In all the years the different KDF teams had operated, Ethan had been the only member to be expelled. The sharp observant minds of the Teachers of Tel Shai included several telepaths and they had cautioned that Ethan was not completely suitable. And in fact, the man had lasted less than a year before he committed enough offenses that he had to be dropped. Only a short time later, Ethan had begun hiring out as a professional executioner. Bane had reluctantly activated a protocol in the man's consciousness placed by Cindy Brunner and shut down some parts of the mind. It was supposed to leave him non-violent and last forever.

Cruising along the outskirts of the sleeping town of New Dover, Bane could not suppress a snort. Forever? In life, there was no use in counting on words like never or forever. Somehow, one of the surviving Masters of Furious Buddha had located Ethan and offered him the invaluable training that made them known as the Walking Weapons.

Ahead was a side road he had been told to find, John Nelson Lane, and he wheeled over onto it. No one was following him, he was certain. The Dire Wolf slowed as he rolled along between flanking yards holding expensive and immaculately maintained houses. He had to force self-reproach from his thoughts but he was stricken by the thought he had not made a project to track down the three known Masters of Furious Buddha and neutralize them. There had been slack periods when he had the time, the resources and the ability to do so but, looking back, Bane realized he had been too reactive and not proactive enough.

But enough of that. Stick to the here and now.

There was the two-story house with tan siding and the attached carport. 551 John Nelson Lane. The dark shape of an SUV could be made out in the shadows of that carport, but there was no movement at all and the windows of the house were dark with a single light over the front door. In that split-second of passing by, Bane had not spotted any watchers on guard.

After the next house was a stretch of untended woods and he pulled his car over under some dead leafless trees. Before he got out, Bane took several minutes to focus. He was going into this mission with too much loose emotion. Between his history with Ethan and the loss of his healing factor, he was way too distracted. Feeling he was ready, the Dire Wolf got out, closed his door silently and took off at a sprint through the woods.

Despite the darkness and the patches of snow, he made no sound and seemed as sure of his path as if it was daylight. An unsuspecting civilian standing only a few feet away might not have even been aware of his presence. In a minute, he approached the rear of the yard adjoining the house where that Chinese scientist was supposed to be hiding. Even now, he was skeptical of the whole situation. Spies couldn't be trusted to tell you what day of the week it was.

Even before he reached the ankle-high hedge that separated the two yards, Bane knew someone was waiting for him. He reached behind his left hip and drew his long-barreled Smith & Wesson .38 revolver without breaking stride. It was only when a tall bone-thin figure swung around from behind two trees that Bane slowed and came to a halt fifty feet away.

"You're not going to shoot me," said a silky-smooth voice that had never quite lost its childhood Georgian accent. "I know you better than that. Killing an unarmed man who isn't physically attacking you. You're too soft for this trade, Jeremy."

A year older than Bane, Ethan Petrov was the same height and general build but thinner, almost fragile looking. He dropped a down-filled parka to the ground and stood unmoving. In the faint light from a single bulb over the front door of the house, little of his saturnine face could be seen.

Bane slowly holstered his gun. It was true, he wasn't capable to cold-blooding execution, no matter how much easier it would make everything. "I had hoped the mental blocks would keep you harmless the rest of your life."

"Hah! They would have. But Master Park found me by chance or by fate. He abducted me and started the Furious Buddha training. You know what it entails, I take it?"

From where he stood, Bane decided Ethan was in fact unarmed. "They put you in a coma for three days, actually bury you in the ground and then dig you up and revive you with their Alchemy serum. Most of your memory is gone after that. Then it's nothing but exercise and sparring and practice until you're one of the Walking Weapons."

"Come this way," said Ethan, stepping over more to the center of the yard. "My memories came back to me for some reason. It doesn't matter why, I was glad to go along with the initiation. Adding the Furious Buddha techniques with the Kumundu training I already had, I became an apex martial artist. As you will see."

"Oh, godammit!" Bane snapped. "I am sick of all the fighting. I've had enough. Look, Ethan, we were teammates once. I kept speaking up for you when even the Teachers warned you were unstable. Walk away now. Vanish. Or I will put a few slugs through your face and go home to a warm bed with nice clean sheets."

"WHAT?! Is that someone else talking? Is that really Jeremy Bane?" Ethan sounded more hurt than angry. "The Dire Wolf I knew would never be afraid to accept a challenge. Come on, old friend! For men like you and me, the world is our arena."

A full minute crawled by before Bane shrugged out of his topcoat and dropped it behind him. He was wearing his trademark uniform of black slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket so only the pale oval of his face was clearly visible in the night. "I guess this is the only way."

III.

Even in the light had been better, a civilian Human witness to that duel would have seen only a baffling blur of movement where the crisp sounds of impact seemed to come from no blow being struck. Both Bane and Ethan began with short straight punches and kicks. These were economical in energy used. After thirty seconds, combination attacks were tried, more complicated strikes from different angles, more attempts to seize an arm or leg for leverage.

At ninety seconds at a pace that no normal athlete could have maintained, Ethan saw an opening and whipped a backfist that caught Bane squarely on the cheekbone. The Dire Wolf reeled to one side and fell. Ethan had drawn back, fists raised for an expected counter-attack but none came.

It only took an instant for Bane to leap back up to his feet but the fact he had been dropped at all was a surprise. "What is wrong with you?" demanded Ethan, still breathing easily enough to talk."

Lunging forward, Bane threw a left side kick that was a feint. Before it could make contact, while Ethan was slamming his hand down to deflect it, Bane redirected the kick upward and cracked it to his opponent's nose with a whiplash noise. Now it was Ethan who staggered backward a few steps. The Dire Wolf closed in to launch a series of drumming body blows with both fists, intending to sidestep before he could be seized. But that backfist to the face had hurt him more than he had expected. He stayed too close too long and paid for it by taking an open-hand chop to the base of the neck.

This time, when he dropped to hands and knees, Bane had trouble recovering. He was so used to even the most brutal blows being nothing but vague thumps he hardly felt. The pain had become something new.

"Oh my God!" whispered his enemy. "You've lost your healing factor." In the second before Bane could rise, Ethan blasted a front snap kick that caught Bane under the chin and swung his head back so far his neck almost broke. The Dire Wolf landed full on his back, gasping for breath.

Lowering his hands to his hips, Ethan Petrov laughed out loud. "Hurts, doesn't it? Good. Now you know what it's like."

With infinite effort, Bane rolled over and got on his hands and knees. He was having resistance moving his neck and could not look up. The ringing in his ears made it difficult to hear what Ethan said.

"Well. Maybe I will let you live and we can resume this some other time," Ethan announced. "Beating you now wouldn't prove anything. I do have my chore to attend to. After I kill that geneticist in the house and his INTERCEPT guards, I might come back to hurt you a little more. Like this!" With terrifying speed, Ethan plunged forward, seized Bane's right arm and yanked it straight, then broke it at the elbow with his free palm.

For the first time, Bane cried out at an injury. He caught himself with his left hand, then rolled over onto his side with his right arm bent at an unnatural angle. He was breathing in short rapid gasps. "Wait. Don't go after Ling, Ethan."

"Why not? I've already been paid half. Furious Buddha has its reputation to uphold, you know. Come to think of it, I should take you prisoner. You still have many enemies in the Midnight War, Dire Wolf. Some would pay well to see you die."

There was no choice any more. Bane managed to get over onto his back and sit up a little using mostly his stomach muscles. He had reached behind him with his left hand. As Ethan stood grinning, Bane raised his Smith & Wesson and fired three times in a horizontal grouping at chest level.

As he had expected, Ethan's reflexes were at peak Human and he had stepped to one side as soon as he saw the muzzle pointed at him... but this placed him right in the path of the second of the three slugs. The impact drove directly into the left side of his chest. Ethan grunted and fell over backwards without trying to catch himself.

Tears were running down his face but Bane did not know this and would not have cared. Moving more carefully, trying to keep his broken arm still, he slid over on the frozen grass until he could see Ethan's head. His former teammate's eyes were open and blank but the Dire Wolf shot once more to be absolutely certain. At that range, the bullet made a good half of Ethan's face vanish in a spray of blood that was black in the winter night.

Then, panting with effort, Bane tried to sit up without success. He was going into shock, which he had forgotten all about. He could hear yelling from the house and the INTERCEPT bodyguards were running toward the scene. They were asking questions, examining Ethan, gently helping Bane to his feet.

"Hold still," one of them said. "We're calling an ambulance now. You'll be all right."

"That's the end of Ethan Petrov," added another. "Ling will make it into relocation and a new identity. You've done good work, Mr Bane."

"It's still dirty work," the Dire Wolf replied miserably.

5/19/2021

"Carrying Lightning In Your Chest"

5/11/2021

I.

"So I said to him, I can be Vietnamese AND Australian, it's not one or the other. And I'll give him credit, he put on a sober puss and says, he reckons he never really thought about that before, yer know? So, me and him talked it over...."

As Arthur Tran talked, Jocelyn felt her attention slipping away. It was such a gorgeous late afternoon in May, with a breeze and bright sunlight, and sitting at the sidewalk cafe made her feel like a cat dozing in the sun. Their plates sat empty on the wrought-iron table between them. She had eaten more than she normally did, the shells stuffed with cheese and mushrooms felt like an anchor in her stomach but she liked the unfamiliar sensation. With a conscious effort, she got back into her companion's flow of words and found he was talking about how Vietnamese families weren't really as close-knit as they seemed to others. Mostly they were nosy about each other's business and getting in the way to meddle.

In her early thirties, Jocelyn Garimara looked poised and even elegant in her tailored cream-colored pantsuit, her ankles crossed and one forearm resting on the table. She had the rich dark skin and thick straight hair of her tribe, a small Northwestern group almost extinct now. The full lips and wide nose added personality to her face. Jocelyn's eyes were large and wide-set, at the moment they had a friendly openness to them.

Seeing Arthur pause and smile, she grinned back. "Give me a second. That's a lot to take in. I'm trying to figure out your family from what you said, you have two brothers and two sisters?"

"That's right. Sorry to yammer on like that, Jocelyn, I just feel comfortable with you." A few years older, Arthur Tran was no bigger than the petite Aboriginal woman. He had narrow shoulders and a small hands, his face under the mop of glossy black hair looked almost prepubescent. But that was an expensive suit he wore and that watch on his left wrist had cost more than a casual glance would suggest. He was doing all right for himself.

"I have to get going soon," she admitted. "I'm on watch duty today."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and said, "That's funny innit? You said you work for a research organization, poking around where the paranormal is reported? What's with watch duty? That makes it sounds more like law enforcement or military work?"

This was the moment she had been dreading. How did Timothy have so many friends in the civilian world? Every time Jocelyn got to meet someone, there came this moment when she either had to be misleading and vague, or else she took a chance on freaking them out. She took a deep breath. "We investigate situations that are often mysterious, Arthur. You don't have to believe in the supernatural. I can understand that. I'm skeptical by nature myself. But my team often has to go where you can't count on civilized law, where there are hazardous conditions and vicious creatures."

"Oh, this is getting more and more interesting," Arthur grinned, leaning forward. "I work with statistics for a law firm and you couldn't make my job sound exciting no matter how creative you are. So you lot are explorers? Ghostbreakers? You're like that old TV program with the FBI agents chasings spooks?"

Now laughter escaped her in a quick burst that she managed to cut short. "I'm sorry. It's hearing it put that way, but yes. I belong to the Kenneth Dred Foundation. Ninety-nine per cent of the time, we find ourselves checking out reports that turn out to be mundane and disappointing."

"Oh, but the remaining one per cent?"

Jocelyn picked up her glass of iced tea and found it was empty. All that remained that was a tiny bit of water from melted ice cubes and she took a sip to stall before answering. "Well, I'll tell you the God's honest truth, Arthur. That one per cent turns out to be truth. Hell. Bloody hell. Let me come right out with it. Yes, we find ourselves fighting monsters. Vampires, werewolves, Skinwalkers, Trolls, you name it. My life is like a trashy horror flick."

Not a trace of amusement showed in Arthur Tran's manner. Instead, he slapped his palm lightly on the table. "I knew it! Ever since I was a kid, I had a feeling there's more going on in the world than we're told. For thousands of years, people have believed in things that come out at night. So, what have you seen personally?"

"Everything. I really shouldn't be telling you this, but the worst that'll happen is you'll think I'm soft in the head. Arthur, I... I've faced creatures out of folklore and out of nightmares." She clinked her empty glass down on the table. "Maybe I've said too much. I should shove off now."

"Wait, don't think I'm not taking you seriously," he said, half rising from his chair. "I have had such a good time talking to you. When I heard you in that shop, your accent made me homesick and happy at the same time."

She tilted her head, regarding him a bit dubiously. "Same for me. I could tell you were from the far Northwest right away. Up by Darwin, maybe. I loved hearing it. Yanks in movies and TV lay on Australian accents so heavy that hearing the real thing is a delight. Come on, let's walk a bit. I have to head toward 38th Street."

"Sure, I'd like that. Nothing waiting for me in my apartment but some pathetic hanging plants and my rice cooker." They had already left money in the plastic tray to cover the bill with a tip. As they pushed back their chairs, a wave of dizziness swept over Jocelyn. Her knees got weak. Even though she tried to cover the sudden weakness, she saw Arthur give her a concerned look.

Overhead, a loud static crackling sounded. Something human-sized swooped down and hit the sidewalk with a deafening roar like lightning striking at close range. For a bare instant for soaring away again, a crimson outline of raw energy stood on two legs and turned its featureless oval of a head toward Jocelyn and Arthur. Then it was gone, leaving only a charred spot on the pavement. The Red Spectre.

( the rest of the story )

"The Moody Creek Incident"

3/27/2021

I.

Parking the leased Subaru Outback by the edge of the water, Demrak Jin hopped out and turned slowly around to take in the area. Not more than five feet tall, slim and wiry, the Gelydra was wearing black jeans and a lightweight windbreaker over a plain white T-shirt. A stranger would wonder why her laced-up hiking boots were comically oversized but in fact her feet had lengthened to the extent normal for her amphibious Race.

Jin was not pretty by conventional standards, with a flat face and cloudy blue eyes under a shock of stiff white hair. But she had charisma. She moved with quick, abrupt motion that hinted at enormous nervous energy barely under control. People who met her cool, steady gaze invariably became uncomfortable.

Moody Creek! Site of folklore and legends. More than a hundred yards across, fast-running and turbulent after all the snowmelt further up in the Catskills, the Creek lay between two steep slopes with only a few houses on either side. To reach here, Jin had driven along a two-lane road in serious disrepair. The nearest town, Cowling, was fifteen miles behind her. She had driven for three hours to get up from Manhattan.

Four people missing in the past year from the area, she thought. Three men, one woman. A child ten years old found drowned on the banks. And the local had taken to make sure their dogs and cats did not wander off, because so many pets had been let out and no returned. She stared down at the turgid water roaring past. It was good that Sable had sent her to investigate. This was a mission meant for Demrak Jin to handle.

A car coming up the road caught her attention. Jin scowled, but then that was her default expression. Her bone-bladed knife was stowed in the rear of the rented car, along with her sharkhide outfit, and she had no weapons on her. No matter. Her confidence in her capabilities was well earned.

The black and white town police car slowed and the officer in the front passenger seat rolled down his window. "You all right, miss?"

"I have no problems," she replied. Her weird unplaceable accent had finally faded after all these years among the surface people and now she sounded like a typical New Yorker.

"This area may not be safe. I'd advise you to move along."

"Do not worry about me." Seeing the tense expression on the cop's face, Jin strode over toward the car. "I'm getting a look at the area. It's broad daylight, I'm safe."

"All right. Still, I wouldn't hang around here if I were you."

The Gelydra did not respond for a long moment, trying to find a correct reply. She knew her manners would never be quite right after growing up in feudal Ulgor, but there was no reason to alarm or antagonize the police. Finally, she said, "Thank you for your concern."

The cop was openly staring at her but he started winding up his window again. "Just trying to help. Best to avoid trouble." The car rolled off down the road as she watched until it was gone from sight.

"I came here looking for trouble," she said out loud. No traffic was in sight. Jin left the rear door open as she dropped down to the seat with her legs staying outside. The sigh of relief as she unlaced her boots and drew them off was heartfelt. Like all adults of her Race, Jin's feet were several inches longer than the Human norm. The webbing between her toes was noticeable even with her feet unsplayed.

Quickly, the Gelydra stripped down to white bra and panties, revealing remarkably wiry muscles in her slim arms and legs. She drew on her long-sleeved tunic and pants of rough grey sharkhide with the abrasive denticles facing out, lacing the garments up snugly. Strapping the bone-bladed long knife across her back in its walrus bone sheath, she finally buckled on a belt with two watertight pouches. In one went her Link communicator and sensor, in the other her keys.

Turning toward Moody Creek, Demrak Jin gave in and called Galvan back in New York City to see how their two year old son was doing. The welcome deep voice reassured her that little Pol was fine, taking a well-deserved nap after an active morning. Jin promised to return as soon as possible, then reported to her KDF captain Sable of her whereabouts.

Ready at last to hit the water, she thought. Standing on the banks, the Gelydra leaped straight up to head height from a standing start, jackknifed and dove cleanly down into the creek. As soon as she submerged, a flap closed over to seal her lungs and the gills on either side of her neck opened.

II.

The water was frigid and turbulent enough to kill a normal Human within a few minutes/ Jin loved it. Her people had been modified ages ago by Darthan magick to thrive in Arctic waters. For more than ten minutes, she simply swam excitedly about before heading down toward the bottom. She could see perfectly well; Gelydran eyes worked further into the blue end of the spectrum than Human eyes and needed less light as their pupils worked differently. The drawback to this was that their sense of color was limited and they were nearly blind in bright direct sunlight.

How long had it been since she was in her element? Ages. If not for Galvan and little Pol, she would be tempted to simply swim drownstream to where Moody Creek joined the Hudson and perhaps go out into the Atlantic again. But no, she couldn't do that. And of course, she had sworn on her clan's name to be a loyal member of the KDF. So she began searching the bottom. After a few miles, she did a backwards somersault and swam upstream toward her starting point. The current was strong enough to make this difficult even for her. She enjoyed the exertion.

Returning to where she had entered the water, Jin finally found something. There, caught in a submerged tree trunk, was a boot with the foot still in it. The Gelydra crouched low and examined the gruesome relic. The foot had not separated from its leg through decomposition, because savage bite marks were clearly visible. She didn't recognize the marks at all.

Should she tug the body part free and give it to police? Well, legally yes. But that would mean having to identify herself and why she was here, not to mention the difficulty of explaining how she had retrieved it when she had no diving equipment or wetsuit. Demrak Jin thought for a second, waving her arms back and forth to keep from swept away.

She would bring the foot to the police when this was all over, she decided. That was best. This way she could operate freely for the time being. Jin swam over to the shore, found a protruding rock ledge ten feet below the surface and kicked up from it to leap completely out of the water and nimbly land standing on the ground. As a Gelydra, her dense body was stronger pound for pound than a Human twice her size.

But to her dismay, there was a witness. A young man in a denim jacket and jeans was standing right next to where she landed. as she shot up out of the water like a missile, he yelped and fell onto his back, not even trying to catch himself.

"What are YOU doing here?" she yelled.

"Huh? What? Where did you come from? Did you get thrown out of the creek by a catapult or something?"

Hurrying back to her car, Jin turned away from the stranger and hurriedly pulled her boots back on. The last thing she wanted at the moment was for this outsider to get a good look at her feet. "Of course not! What do you want here?"

"Is that a machete on your back!?" he replied instead, getting back up. Standing, he was a foot taller than the petite Gelydra, a slightly bland-looking man in his early twenties. He had unremarkable features, short dark brown hair and would have been difficult to describe. The only distinctive trait on his face was a feeble attempt at a mustache that looked like it was doomed to go nowhere.

Jin also stood up after lacing her boots. "That's no answer!" she spat back at him. "Are you spying on me? Who do you work for?"

"Who do I...? Whoa. Listen, please, let's ratchet this back a little. Why are we yelling at each other? I don't work for anyone. My name is Mark, Mark Castellano. This is my town, I've lived here all my life and naturally I want to find out what happened with the people disappearing. That's all." He held up his hands at chest level, palms out. "I don't see why we'd be at each other's throats."

"Oh." With great effort, Jin unclenched her fists. She had been told many times to watch her temper and to adjust her manners from the warrior culture of Ulgor, but without great success. She took a deep shuddering breath and tried to make her voice sound less threatening. "I am sorry. Yes, sorry. My name is Jin, I'm an investigator for the Kenneth Dred Foundation. In New York City. We are a research group looking into unsolved mysteries and strange crimes, so I have been sent here. I guess I am doing the same as you are, Mark Castellano."

Visibly relieved, Castellano tugged down his jacket where it had ridden up. "Not to get it starting again, but you're soaking wet. You were swimming in Moody Creek, this time of year? That water must be freezing."

"It doesn't bother me," she said absently. "Tell me what you know about the missing people. Um, please."

"Oh, I haven't found out anything that isn't public knowledge. I had met one of them a few times at the supermarket, I recognized his face in the papers, but I didn't really KNOW any of them. Local folks. As far as anyone can tell, all three were out along the creek at night, walking a dog or running along the shore. Their disappearances were months apart and there's no obvious connection."

"Very well. I will go now." Jin reached into the pouch at her belt and drew out her keys but she made no move to unstrap the bone knife from her back. Her stance hinted she was still half-expecting a fight with this man, whether he seemed threatening or not.

"Really. Wait a second, okay? Have you checked where the drowned girl was found? It's a couple miles back toward town."

"No. I do not know the exact location," she said, still watching him with no attempt to hide suspicion.

"I'll show you. Come on, it'll get me closer to my boarding house anyway, it's a little cold to walk all the way back."

Demrak Jin was silent. Taking a long time to respond in conversation was one of her habits which greatly annoyed people, but she was delayed by translating her Gelydran customs with those of the surface world. "Yes. I can do that. You do not seem to be a threat, Castellano."

"Aw, call me Mark," the young man said, finally smiling. "And I'd appreciate it. We can help each other out."

Moving slowly, the Gelydra unfastened her long knife and secured it behind the front seat. She picked up an oversized blue and white flannel shirt and tugged it on but left it unbuttoned. Rolling up the sleeves to her biceps, she said, "Let's go."

"Great."

Without a further word, Jin slid in behind the steering wheel as he ran around to the passenger side. She started up the car, swung it around and sped off down the road faster than was really necessary.

Reaching toward her forearm, her passenger said, "Can I ask what kinda material that is? I never saw anything like it."

"Don't touch my suit," she snapped. "Rub it the wrong way and it will take your skin off."

"What? Really?"

"It is the hide of a young mako I killed. This is a tradition among my people," she said as casually as if discussing where to stop for lunch. "If any enemy attempts to seize me, he is at a great disadvantage."

"Well, I bet he would be! Cripes. You're full of surprises, Jin."

She turned her eyes toward him for an instant, still wary and appraising. "What is your task among your people?"

"You mean my job? I was a driver for the pizza place, Angelina's. Got laid off awhile back, I'm surviving on unemployment." He was not doing well at hiding how fascinated he was by her stiff white hair and odd facial features. "What's this Foundation you work for?"

"The KDF. We research unsolved mysteries, reports of the supernatural, anything inexplicable," she said, slowing as they approached the edge of town. To their left was a junkyard with some rusted shells of old cars and farm equipment half hidden under dead grass. On their right was a brick building with a huge sign WE BUY SCRAP METAL, ALL KINDS. After that, isolated houses began to appear.

Jin noticed the young man's mesmerized stare and exhaled sharply. "I think I should be blunt and to the point, Mark. Have you ever heard of the Midnight War?"

"Actually, yeah," he said with rising excitement. "I went through a real occult and witchcraft phase as a teenager. I read about a lot of rare old books. The Midnight War, the real mystic phenomena behind everything that normal people know about... oh my God. You're a Gelydra!"

"Yes. Remain calm. I am from Ulgor. I am amphibious, I have gills and can live underwater. I was raised as a warrior, born at the same time as a shark, and have slain over a hundred opponents in fair combat. Now I work with my teammaes in the KDF. You must find all that hard to believe?"

"No, not at all," Castellano replied. "I mean, I saw you pop up out of that freezing creek, perfectly comfortable. I noticed your hair was completely dry in a few seconds. So I figured I had finally found a real inhabitant of the Midnight War."

Turning toward him at a stop sign, Demrak Jin smiled with her mouth but her dark blue eyes remained serious and the effect was sinister. "Just so you know, you are sitting next to one of the deadliest individuals you will ever meet."

III.

Dusk was slowly settling in when Castellano told her to pull over on the banks. This close to the town, a low metal guard rail had been set up to prevent cars from accidentally plunging into the water. Jin finally took off the sunglasses as it was getting dark enough for her to be comfortable.

They both got out, stepped over the guard rail and stood right by the water's edge. After a few minutes, the Gelydra went back to her car and retrieved the bone knife. She shrugged off the flannel shirt and strapped the weapon across her back with the hilt up behind her left shoulder. The blade was short enough that she could draw it easily from that position.

Dropping down to sit on the loose rocky shore, Jin unlaced her boots with relief and hopped lightly back up again. "I am not one of your Human detectives who are subtle and clever, I am a mere fighter. But I have been thinking about what has been carrying off stray people."

"Oh? Like what?"

"You know about shape-shifters. Even the average civilian has heard of werewolves. But almost any animal can become a totem. A bat, a tiger, a bear. Years ago, my team fought a man who changed into a Pterodactyl. And I am increasingly sure that the menace here is a Human who takes the form of some large predatory beast. A crocodile, perhaps?"

Castellano nodded. "You know more about these things than I do, that's for sure. It makes sense though. Police divers went looking at the bottom for a week and they had motorboats patrolling too. They didn't find anything. But maybe the monster was standing here watching them, looking completely ordinary."

"Looking like you," she said, whipping out her long knife with a hissing sound. "The Midnight War is not common knowledge, young man. Few have even heard the words. Yet you know about it and you recognized my Race instantly. You found me so soon after I arrived here. All very suspicious."

"Whoa, whoa, ease up with that machete, Jin." Castellano stepped awkwardly back with his open hands held up at chest level. "Let's stay cool. I'm no threat to you."

Even in the gloom, her teeth flashed in a wicked smile. "No. You're not. But to unsuspecting Humans, I think..." With her attention fully focused on the alarmed man, Demrak Jin was taken entirely off guard. Something with a grip like iron clamps seized her ankles and yanked her so she crashed face down on the rocks with the long knife spinning out of her grip, then it hauled her back down into the water, all in a single blink.

Even as they submerged, Jin kicked free and swung around to face her attacker. It was a creature she had never seen before. Slightly bigger than a human being, with smooth sleek hide, it had two thick arms ending in three fingers and a thumb, all armed with talons. There were no hind legs, the body ended in a wide flat tail that had horizontal flukes. The face glaring at her was more froglike than humanoid with staring google-eyes at the top of the skull, a lipless mouth and no nose or ears.

All this she saw in a flash, even as she attacked. Jin seized one of the creature's wrists in each hand, locking her fingers so they could not be opened without breaking her bones and she kicked with both powerful legs. The monster struggled and almost got back up to the surface. They seemed evenly matched as far as muscular power went. But her fierce determination outweighed the creature's bloodlust and she forced him down to the rough slimy stone of the creek bed.

Great air bubbles big as a man's head escaped from that wide batrachian mouth and rose up through the water. The monster grew more frenzied in its attempts to escape but Demrak Jin was implacable. Her fury was fully raging at this point and it would have taken a dozen men to pull her away from her prey. One last air bubble freed itself before the creature convulsed and went limp. Even so, the Gelydra knelt on the body for another long minute before being satisfied.

What was this beast? She had no idea. But then new and unknown beings surfaced often in the Midnight War, and she would haul the corpse up to drag it into her car and take it back to KDF headquarters. Probably Sable would go through their files and identify the monster quickly enough. What was important was that she had immediately saw that it had no gills and would almost certainly an air-breather. If it had been some sort of fish or amphibian that could breathe underwater, the struggle would have been more prolonged and might not have gone so well for her.

Stroking back up to the surface, Demrak Jin leaped out of the water exactly where she had been standing where she had been seized. Her bone-blade still lay there and she claimed it as Castellano gave a start that almost made him fall down again.

"You're alive! You're okay! What happened?"

Sheathing her weapon, the Gelydra started to retort sharply but caught herself. "I.. I believe I need to apologize. I was wrong. There was some unknown acquatic creature behind the deaths, but it will not be harming anyone else."

"Really? I caught a glimpse but it all happened so fast." He drew back as Jin approached him. "Oh no, stay where you are."

"I have admitted my mistake. I have offered apology," she said.

"Yeah, well that's not enough, lady. You threatened me with that damn blade. You were getting ready to slice me up without any evidence at all." He wheeled around and took off at a full run toward the lights of the town.

Watching him disappear into the distance, Jin did not know exactly what to feel. All the years among the surface folk and she still did not understand them.

5/23/2021

"Jellybean"


6/30/2021

I.

"I see the creature now," Timothy whispered into his Link from behind a pair of elms. "It... well, it's weird. It looks like a purple jellybean about four feet tall, with a pair of skinny pipe-cleaner legs and big feet but no arms. No face, just a single big eye with a bright blue pupil. The eye's bloodshot. There's also some straggly red hair hanging from a sort of topknot."

"When did you start dropping acid, Timothy?" asked a woman's voice.

"Quiet, Unicorn," said a second female voice. "How far away are you, Tim? What's the creature doing?"

"I'm hiding near some trees, maybe fifty feet away," he answered. "It looks like there was a cookout going on here but no sign of the family. There's a grill with a few hamburgers on it, and a long redwood table with a round white cake, some bowls of chips, paper plates and stuff. The darn thing is approaching the cake. If the beast had a nose, I'd say it was sniffing it."

"Our ETA is six minutes," Sable said. Timothy held the Link up closer, hoping the creature wouldn't hear. There were earpieces available but he seldom remembered to use them. In his late twenties, Timothy remained a lanky young man a few inches under six tall, still with a mop of yellow hair over a friendly-looking face. For once, his usual outfit of well-worn boots, jeans and black leather jacket was appropriate since he had been riding his Harley when he got the call from Sable back in Manhattan.

He had left his bike some distance behind and run up the back road to where he could see the house. This was in the backwoods of Greene County more than a hundred miles north of the City, where the Catskills began, and he had been on a day trip to visit some friends he had grown up with. That he had been only a few minutes away from where the Chaffee family lived must be a coincidence. Or was it just his usual bad luck?

"What's ol' Jellybean up to?" asked Unicorn's voice, finally back to her normal flippancy after having gone through a few bad months emotionally.

"It.. he? She? Seems to be eating half of the cake, Ashley. I can't see how. With no arms and no mouth, I'm baffled how that works. As far as I can tell, Jellybean leans over close and sort of sucks the cake in through its skin."

"We're directly overhead," Sable cut in. "I've got the CORBY hovering out of sight at two thousand feet so we don't alarm this being."

"Jellybean," suggested Unicorn's voice.

"All right. Good a name as any. Ashley, call the Chaffees on your Link and tell them we're on the scene. There doesn't seem to be any immediate danger but they should stay inside and out of sight for the moment."

Timothy straightened up. The being which they had dubbed Jellybean had finished off the entire two-layer cake, including the unlit candles on its top. Now he was working on a plastic bowl of Fritos but seemed less enthusiastic about them. Fascinated by the bizarre sight, Timothy dropped down and scuttled to get behind some bushes that were closer. He had studied all the various Races and non-Human beings of the Midnight War, but this was like nothing he had ever heard of. For a moment, he wondered if it might be an alien from outer space. Midnight War lore did not tell of any extra-terrestrial encounters, but he himself was open to the possibility. The Universe is large beyond our mind's ability to grasp, he often thought, so who knows what could be out there?

As Timothy watched, Jellybean moved over to inspect the grill, where four hamburgers still sizzled over white coals. The creature backed off uncertainly, then approached again. As it leaned over to get a good look, the front of its cylindrical body brushed up against the metal.

The long piercing scream must have been telepathic, but it was no less disorienting. Timothy's head rang and he clapped both hands over his ears with no effect. He jumped to his feet with a vague idea of seeing if the creature needed help. Jellybean's single eye blazed up as if lit from within and a dazzling lightning bolt crackled from it to send the grill flying into the back yard, tumbling end over end.

While the thunder still echoed back and forth from nearby hills, Timothy got to his feet, a little dazed by the unexpected fireworks at such close range. He immediately thought better of showing himself and dove as far to one side as he could. The creature swiveled as it caught a glimpse of the motion, and a second bolt shot out to detonate right where Timothy had been standing. Even a near hit was devastating. Timothy was flung upward in a clumpsy somersault and hit the lawn face down with a thud as everything went grey for him.

II.

The familiar voice of his captain seemed to be coming through a tunnel from a great distance, "He's going to be fine in a few seconds. Pulse is nice and strong, breathing is clear. Tim will throw off that gralic blast right away."

"I'm... glad to hear that," Timothy grunting, forcing his eyes open. His whole body smarted as badly as a severe sunburn would, and there was aching deep in his joints. But in fact the enhanced healing from the Tagra diet had kicked in. He felt better every second. As his vision cleared, he made out Sable kneeling over him. Her confident smile was reassuring.

Crouching nearby with fingertips of one hand touching the grass to give stability was Unicorn. In her early forties now, Ashley Whitaker still was a perfect little platinum blonde with delicate features; only the faintest lines at the corners of those crystal blue eyes and on either side of the full lips gave away the fact she was no longer a teenager. Like Sable, Ashley wore the black boots, pants and waist-length jacket of the KDF field suit. Like Sable also, she carried a needle-nosed anesthetic dart pistol holstered at her right hip. In a white leather sheath across her back was strapped a three foot long talisman, the genuine Unicorn horn that gave her that war name. Seeing Timothy glance over at him, the Unicorn gave a mock salute with two fingers up at her temple. "Glad you're okay, buddy."

By then, Tim felt able to get up. He didn't refuse a helping hand from the team's captain. Sable pulled him up by one arm and steered him over to plop down on a bench by the redwood table. "Better give yourself another minute or two," she advised. "That was a first class gralic bolt that grazed you."

"Whoa, maybe you're right," he admitted. "Did you guys see what happened? I still can't believe that thing was real."

"We were watching through the telescopic sensors," Sable said. "By the time we landed the CORBY, Jellybean had galloped off into the woods. Carlo, you haven't said anything yet."

Standing apart from the others of the team was a skinny youth barely out of his teens. Carlo Rivera wore white jeans and a bright yellow T-shirt, holding a round leather satchel in one hand. His face had sunken cheeks and a sharp pointed nose, the curly black hair was untidy. "I felt a lot of gralic force coming from that creature," he replied. "Really strong, potent enough to blow away this house and most of the yard if used to its fullest. Jellybean, I guess we're gonna call it, is dangerous all right."

"Not exactly good news," Sable said. She gave a nod of her head to the blonde Unicorn. "Ashley, better go in the house and tell the Chaffees it's safe to come out now. As soon as we know they're okay, we're going to find out where Jellybean went."

The next few minutes were spent calming down Peter and Marion Chaffee, a middle-aged couple who had been on the outskirts of the Midnight War for decades. Many years earlier, a young Jeremy Bane had rescued them from some daywalkers and, rather than accepting a reward, had asked only that they call him immediately if they knew of any occult or unexplainable phenomena in the area.

Today was the first time they had been able to pay their debt. They had spotted the weird creature wandering in their yard and had immediately phoned. Bane was retired now, but the KDF team he had founded had been quick to respond. Being already in the area, Timothy had arrived first. Sable, Unicorn and Carlo had come quickly in the jetcopter CORBY, which now sat in the huge back yard.

"Listen, we're not going to mention this to ANYONE," Marion said. "They'd think we were having a Senior Moment or worse. It's bad enough when young people claim to witness the supernatural."

"I bet the doctors would smile politely and start drawing up papers for us to go into a nursing home," added Peter with a scoffing noise. "No thank you. We'll keep this to ourselves."

"That's the best plan," Sable agreed. "There's good reasons why the Midnight War is secret. After we deal with that creature, we'll come back here to talk some more. I'm so glad you phoned us right away."

Standing over by the redwood table, Unicorn had swiped a few Fritos when she thought no one was looking. "You two throwing a party?"

"That's our annual custom," Peter told them. "Marion and I met at a barbeque. Each year, we recreate it as our anniversary. Forty-three years ago to the day."

"Too bad there's nothing left of the cake," Unicorn sighed. "I've been cheating on my low-carb diet lately."

Sable gestured for her team to start moving toward the back yard. "At least, you two weren't hurt. We'll make sure that creature doesn't come back."

"What a monster!" Marion said. "It made my blood run cold AND my skin crawl just looking at it. But somehow, I didn't think it was vicious or threatening. More like it was simply curious."

Before joining his teammates, Timothy asked the older couple if it would be okay to wheel his motorcycle across the lawn. Receiving a prompt "Of course," he ran up to the road and soon was pushing his Harley down the slope of the back yard to where their copter sat. "I'd hate to leave the girl here and have to come back for her," he explained.

The sleek sharklike shape of the CORBY bore no identifying numbers or logos. Even though no weapons were visible, the jet black craft still seemed vaguely menacing. Sable was already in the right pilot seat, doing a rundown check preflight. With help from Carlo and Ashley, Timothy got his bike up a lowered ramp into the rear storage area and secured it carefully with straps. Then he was asked by Sable to take the co-pilot seat, while Unicorn and Carlo placed themselves on the bench in the compartment just behind the cockpit, buckling themselves in as well.

Once everyone was on board, with the hatches sealed, the four rotors began to spin. Strangely silent, making only a stiff breeze as it rose, the CORBY lifted clear and shot straight up in the summer sky.

Standing on their patio, watching the black craft speed away, Peter Chaffee laughed. "It's too bad the Martinos next door are away on vacation," he said. "Imagine their faces if they saw that helicopter."

"They always say we're such nice quiet neighbors," Marion added.

III.

Before they got too high, Sable called to Timothy Limbo in the rear compartment. "How about sending a few of your caspers down to search, Tim? They could save us some time flying around. The fewer people spot the CORBY, the better."

Seated on the bench, Tim held up open hands and four tiny whirlwinds materialized in front of him. Barely visible even in good light, they were swirling cones of gralic force which began moving around him like affectionate hummingbirds. After a few seconds, the caspers scooted back to an air vent and squeezed through the grating to leave the CORBY.

"My friendly ghosts," he said with the pride of a man watching his prize dog do a complicated trick. "Slow down please, captain. We're about at the top height they can fly to."

"Copy that," Sable replied. "We're hovering. Radar shows no other aircraft within miles of us, but I don't want people making videos with their phones of this copter."

Next to Timothy, Carlo Ventura had zipped open his satchel and taken from it a helmet made of pale gold, shimmering warmly in the subdued light of the compartment. It was all one piece, with a slightly flattened front plate. There were no eye holes, merely etched outlines where such holes should be. Showing in the open satchel were a blue crystal in a gold setting and some folded fabric that was also the same nearly-white gold color. Carlo tapped the jewel with his index finger. "This Eldar travel crystal is great," he told Timothy. "I think I finally am getting good at entering other realms and coming back safely, but it sure takes every bit of concentration I can scrape together."

"That's good to hear," Tim responded. "How's it going with the helmet?"

"I still haven't got the knack of using Sagehelm to its fullest," Carlo grumbled. "Nebel could have tracked that Jellybean monster with no problem. My progress is so slow, it's driving me nuts. So unfair!"

In the front co-pilot seat, Unicorn swiveled her head back toward her teammates. She was careful not to tease the touchy Carlo the same way she tormented Timothy. "From what the Teachers at Tel Shai say, the helmet reveals itself at its own pace, Carlo. Heck, even so, you've already saved our butts a few times with it."

"I guess I need to be more patient," their newest member admitted.

Timothy sat up straighter. He was staring ahead with a distracted expression. "Say, I'm getting some images from my boys. Yeah. There's Jellybean, a little over a mile away. North by northwest, captain."

"Got it. Everybody stand by." Sable swung the copter around. Below was a dirt road too narrow for more than one car to navigate at a time. Storming his way along it was Jellybean. The bizarre creature was stomping both of its flat feet and kicking at any fallen branches it passed. As the CORBY neared, the KDF team saw a bolt from the being's eye blow apart a withered old apple tree that had done nothing to deserve such destruction. Splinters and shards whirled away from the blast.

"Yikes," Unicorn remarked from the co-pilot seat. "That's quite the tantrum. He's acting like a two year old throwing a conniption fit."

"Funny you should say that," replied Sable quietly, bringing the CORBY down to forty feet but staying back. So far the creature had not noticed the silent craft. "Carlo, would you put on the helmet? Let's see what you can perceive before we confront Jellybean."

When Carlo lowered the eyeless helmet down over his head, his voice became hollow and solemn. "This being is as it should be," he intoned. "There is no damage nor external affliction for the light of Elvedal to heal. I cannot affect him."

"Can you find out what he wants? What he's doing here?"

"I need to contact him directly," Carlo said after a moment's hesitation. "I can tell you that I perceive no malice nor hatred in this being we call Jellybean. He is simple, direct, almost elemental in his emotions."

Sable had begun following the creature at a distance. "Let's observe him before we try to make contact. There are no other houses for a few miles. Maybe a walk through the woods will calm him down..."

"Hey, he sees us!" Unicorn yelled. "Look out!"

The big blue eye had rotated around to the back of the cylindrical body and instantly a lightning bolt sizzled up to crash full against the CORBY. All its systems went dead. The row of monitor screens and indicator lights blacked out. Still moving forward as its rotors slowed, the copter plunged down thirty feet to skid along its fuselage on the grass and brush before coming to a halt.

No one was hurt from the impact. "Tim, open your hatch with the manual lever," Sable ordered. "Let's get some air in here. Everyone unbuckle. Be ready to fight or to run if that thing attacks us."

Sliding open the hatch, Timothy said with relief, "Jellybean is going on his way. It's like he forgot all about us already. Just as well."

"I never saw a CORBY shut down like this before," Unicorn said. "I'm honestly shocked. I thought they were indestructible."

"Nothing is perect, Ashley. I'm trying to reboot the systems now. How's your Link?"

"It's dead. No signal, no sensor functions," Unicorn muttered. "Wow. What are we dealing with here anyway?"

Sable had popped open a panel on the control board in front of them and was resetting a row of tabs. "Patience, everyone. Let's see.. There. I've got a screen going. It says 'function restored in eighteen minutes.' I guess we have to sit tight."

"The screen on my Link flickered," Unicorn said. "Looks like it's trying to start up again. I know how it feels, I almost needed a change of underwear."

"Good thing we weren't any higher," Timothy added. "If we had been cruising a couple hundred feet up... Sheesh. I've got a casper following Jellybean. He's calmed down a lot. Maybe smacking a helicopter out of the air is his way of blowing off steam."

It was half an hour before the CORBY was functioning properly again. Even then, Sable insisted on a full preflight check, including visual inspection from outside.

"The Trom tech builds amazingly advanced aircraft," she said as she inspected the top rotors. There were no tail blades, instead a pair of vertical vanes used high pressure air to stabilize. "But we can't take anything for granted."

Lying full length next to the craft, Timothy called over. "Some scrapes and dents, captain. But the panel over the landing gear looks untouched. Hopefully the wheels will come down without trouble."

Carlo had gazed out over the CORBY in silence. He raised the eyeless helmet up and held it in the crook of one arm, his voice sounding normal again. "My perception works best with living things but I didn't sense any damage that will present problems."

"I see you've attached the travel crystal," she said.

Carlo touched a finger to the small blue gem he had fastened to the collar of his shirt, right above the top button. "I have a feeling it will be useful."

"All right, resume your stations. Let's take it easy the first few minutes of flight and see if everything's nominal before we confront Jellybean again. I'm worried he could throw a stronger bolt that would wreck us completely."

IV.


"My caspers have found Jellybean again," Timothy said. "They're not exactly eager to get too close, I guess they can sense his gralic force. Looks like two men are with him. They're to the west, Sable, more northwest actually."

"Got it," their captain said, swinging the CORBY smoothly around and accelerating. "I'll keep the speed down so your friendly ghosts can keep us with us."

In less than a minute, the copter slowed to hover. "Take the stick, Ashley," Sable said.

Reaching over to the combined cyclic/collective stick between their seats, Unicorn flicked the switch that moved control of the CORBY over to her side. "Got it," she chirped. "Relax, y'all. You're in good hands."

The captain of the team leaned toward the windscreen, peering down at a clearing below them. Lauren Sable Reilly's unique gift involved using gralic force to extend her senses far beyond normal limits. She could hear a moth in a darkened room, detect a single drop of anything added to a gallon of water by one sip and read painted signs with her fingertips. Now she shifted focus to give herself telescopic vision.

"There's Jellybean," she told her team. "He's sitting on the ground peacefully enough. Oh, this is bad news. I recognize the two men talking to him. Thicke and Wickett."

Unicorn let out a curse word that was so out of character that everyone gaped. "Not THOSE two, again!" she said. "I swear, I hate con men like them more than I do Skinwalkers or necromancers."

"We've run into Thicke and Wickett a few times," Timothy explained to Carlo. "They're shady characters on the outskirts of the Midnight War. Grifters, frauds, thieves. They pull elaborate heists. You can't believe them if they tell you what day of the week it is, and they'll steal your socks without you noticing."

"Bring us down, Ashley," ordered Sable in voice that was suddenly taut. "Not right on top of them. Damn. Now we have to deal with those two tricksters as well as this mysterious unidentified creature."

Not surprisingly, the silent descent of an ominous black helicopter captured the full attention of the two rogues and the strange creature. Thicke, the smaller of the men, was squatting ten feet away from Jellybean, who was sitting on the ground with his legs folded in a way no Human legs were flexible enough to emulate.

Strangely, Thicke was rolling an ordinary softball along the ground toward Jellybean. Every time he did this, the creature fired a mild little sting from its single eye that was just potent enough to send the ball spinning back for Thicke to catch. This seemed to amuse the weird being greatly. The cylindrical body swung from side to side in what might have been laughter.

Both men were well dressed in a rather old-fashiioned way. Graham Thicke, short and slim, wore a brown suit of Harris Tweed, including a vest and a narrow tan tie. Pushed back on his head was a matching felt fedora. A pleasant smile on a bland face completed the effect of amiable harmlessness.

Behind him, looming up several inches over six feet and wide, stood an older man wearing grey pinstripe trousers, formal jacket and a white dress shirt with an old style detachable collar. This was Ian Wickett, who had a round-crowned bowler placed correctly, black hair that was trimmed precisely and a closely shaven face. But even the impassive expression on that lantern-jawed face could not hide a smoldering air of repressed anger. This was the one to watch.

As the hatches hissed open to release pressurized air, the four KDF members hopped nimbly out and began marching toward the odd scene. The single eye on Jellybean's upper end swung around somehow without him turning, a singularly disconcerting effect.

"Look at the way they're... playing..." Unicorn began, her voice trailing off at the realization.

"Of course," Timothy added. "It makes sense. This Jellybean isn't an adult of whatever species it is. It's a toddler. The way it wolfed down the cake, then threw a tantrum when it burned itself. Yeah, that explains it."

Wickett drew himself up and turned to face the newcomers. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen."

"Good manners for a Melgar," Sable replied. She came to a stop, just out of reach, and placed her fists on her hips with her right hand within reach of the dart gun's grip. "Thickeand Wickett. You seem to be making a new friend."

Rising from his crouch, the younger man grinned. "Ah, Sable. Unicorn, Timothy.
always a treat when old chums meet. I'm afraid I haven't made the acquaintance of the fourth member of your little commando squad. If you'd be so kind?"

"His name is Carlo, but let's get right to the point. What are you doing with Jellybean?"

"Oh, I say. That IS an appropriate appelation. Wickett and I were condidering if we should bestow the name 'Polyphemus,' a classical allusion with some gravitas. Yes, he appears to have taken a liking to me, Sable. Stray dogs and children and old grandmothers do, you know, I'm quite likeable."

"To those who don't know what you're really like," she snapped. "Don't bother clenching your fists, Wickett. Yes, you're really a Melgar and you're big and tough and stronger than a bull. But we've buried enemies a lot tougher than you."

The bigger man simply touched the brim of his bowler hat. "Ma'am."

"Still, you do seem to have quieted Jellybean down," Sable continued. "That's a welcome development. Maybe we can arrange a truce for the moment."

A flash of pale blue light behind them made the KDF team give a start and swing around. Carlo was gone without a trace. The remaining three members had reflexively drawn their dart guns, Thicke had scrambled to his feet and even Jellybean was staring with his single eye.

"That's a bit dodgy," Thicke drawled. "Your new teammate appears to have scarpered off. Lost his nerve, has he?"

"Never mind that," said Sable. "Look, I know you don't have any unusual abilities yourself, but you're experienced and shrewd. You know a lot about Midnight War phenomena.
If you can persuade Jellybean there to board our copter peacefully, I think some compensation would be in order."

"Ah, the conversation has swerved toward a more pleasant tone, dear lady. Please go on."

"Let's say, twenty thousand dollars in unmarked bills within the hour. We'll take Jellybean to Hawk Island where he'll be no danger to anyone and maybe we can figure out what to do with him. Sound like a deal?"

Thicke glanced over at his partner. Wickett merely said, "Our bank balance is decidedly anemic, sir."

"Unfortunately all too true," the young man said. He adjusted the angle of his fedora, made a tut-tut noise and went over to crouch down facing Jellybean again. "But I think not, Miss Sable. Our new acquaintance here offers tantalizing possibilities. I'm not implying I would encourage him to blow open bank vaults, of course. That would be against the law."

Still holding the anesthetic dart gun in her hand, muzzle pointed down, Sable exhaled sharply. "So much for doing this the easy way. You two will wake up in an hour more or less, but you'll feel weak and nauseous the rest of the day..."

"Steady on, old girl," warned Thicke. "How do you think our best friend Jellybean will react when you shoot his new chums and we appear quite bereft of life?"

"Nobody move," Unicorn said with sudden enthusiasm. "I've got one of my brilliant ideas!" The little blonde spun on one heel, raced back to the CORBY and vaulted in through the open hatch.

"Nimble lass, isn't she?" asked T.hicke

"Quite so, sir," Wickett replied.

Leaping back out again, Unicorn was unwrapping the foil off two candy bars. "Swiss chocolate, so much better than that tasteless American stuff." She shifted to a higher, gentler voice. "Here, boy, try one of these."

Jellybean allowed her to approach and leaned forward to suck the candy in through the skin where his face should have been. To everyone's amazement, the straggly red hair wiggled with obvious joy.

"Good, isn't it?" Unicorn crooned. "Sooo yummy, come on, I have a whole box in the helicopter I keep in case I get the blues."

"Oh my God, Ashley!" said Timothy. "You're luring a child into your vehicle with candy!"

"Quiet, you. This is for the greater good," she said in the same soothing tone that Jellybean seemed to be responding to.

Thicke came around to stand next to the creature. "Here now, you're OUR hen that lays golden eggs, lad. Keep away from that trollop."

For a moment, Jelly seemed conflicted. The solitary eye moved from Unicorn to Thicke and back again before beginning to glow with lambent force.

"Watch out, everyone," said Sable, stepping back. "He's getting annoyed."

But in the next second, another flare of blue light burst behind them and a deep sonorous voice boomed, "Stop it! That's enough."

VI.

Standing beside Carlo Ventura were two members of Jellybean's species but much larger, one reaching well over seven feet. Both had longer hair and one had a green-irised eye.
Seeing them, Jellybean raced over and clung to the taller one, who bent over protectively.

The shorter creature turned to Carlo, who was just now removing the eyeless helmet. The telepathic bass voice continued, "We thank you for bringing us to our child. We did not think he was capable yet to breach the Wall Between the Worlds. But do not return to our realm. We Ulirim keep ourselves to ourselves." Blue radiance flashed around the three beings and they were gone, leaving only footprints.

"Oh, so THAT'S where you disappeared to," Sable said, finally holstering her gun. "You figured out where Jellybean came from."

"And brought his parents here!" interrupted Unicorn, eating the second chocolate bar herself. "Perfect! This solves the whole crisis. Nice work."

Carlo held up the gleaming helmet and gazed down at it with a faint smile. "Sagehelm itself told me. I need to start listening to it more and stop trying to bend it to my will. What a strange realm those Ulirim live in. Wait until I tell you about it."

"Hey, there go the con men!" Timothy interrupted. He pointed down the dirt road where both Thicke and Wickett had broken into a full run toward their Mercedes. "Shouldn't we chase them?"

Suddenly weary, Sable walked over to the CORBY and dropped down to sit on the edge of the open hatch. "No. Let them go. What are we going to charge them with? What would we tell the police or a judge? Anyway, we're bound to meet them again."

"Aw, this is for the best," Unicorn said. "I wasn't looking forward to babysitting a critter that shoots lightning when he's mad. Here. I've got a whole box of Toblerone, plenty for everyone."

9/9/2021