dochermes

"Snow, Cold, Darkness and Death"

1/21-1/22/2013

I.

By midnight, three inches of wet heavy snow had fallen and more was coming down. On the deserted back roads of the north end of Long Island, a dark massive form stomped along doggedly. Even through the clouds, enough moonlight penetrated to see by. At a crossroads, headlights cautiously approached from behind. The dark figure stopped as a big white SUV slowed to a halt. A power window slid down and a man' voice called out, "Hey buddy, get in! I'm going your way."

A second later, the huge form reached the SUV and unexpectedly yanked the door open. A huge gnarled hand clamped down on the driver's arm and hauled him violently out. Getting a glimpse of a horribly twisted white face from the back glow of the headlights, the helpful man barely took in breath to scream before his neck was broken and his body thrown effortlessly ten feet off the road into the bushes.

The giant bulk squeezed in behind the wheel, pulled the door shut and started the vehicle forward at reckless speed. Through the still open window, a surprisingly mellow and polished voice said, "Thank you ever so much, my good man."

II.

At eight-thirty AM, Haley Lawson stepped out the front door of her house while her mother was enjoying a second cup of coffee. The seventeen year old was prudently wearing boots, heavy sweat pants, her bright blue down-filled coat and black gloves. It wasn't that cold out, just under freezing, but she had pulled her auburn hair up under a wool ski cap.

It looked like the roads had been plowed well enough. She faced the patio and fifteen feet of driveway. Haley's green eyes were bright enough with the pupils contracted from the glare off the snow, but the glee in them added to the effect. The snow shovel remained untouched in the garage where her mom's car was safely parked.

This was going to take some concentration. Under her coat and sweater, the ancient Air Gem was fastened securely to a choker around her neck. Haley visualized what she wanted to summon, nothing too dramatic or violent. Part of her mind reached out through the Melgar talisman and summoned warm arid air from New Mexico. The snow began visibly melting, sinking down and running off, leaving a patch of the driveway exposed. The Windcatcher kept at it, bringing more warm air to expose the entire driveway and patio. She satisfied herself that the asphalt was dry and there wouldn't be any ice forming from moisture refreezing.

Placing her hands on her narrow hips, Haley beamed with self-approval. The whole process had still taken maybe ten minutes but was easier than shoveling. She went back inside the snug cozy kitchen, plopped down ungracefully on a chair and began unlacing her boots. "All done," she announced.

Lisa Lawson did not much resemble her daughter. She was shorter than Haley's five feet seven and had black hair and darker green eyes. They had the same sassy grin though. Putting down her cup, she said, "And it was a lot easier than it was getting you OR your sister to do it the old-fashioned way."

"Maybe I should go around the neighborhood, clearing off everybody's walks and stuff," Haley said. She started gathering ingredients for some Shredded Wheat, including a plastic bowl big enough for a chef salad. Almond milk, sugar, one of those bananas on the windowsill...

"Honestly, I don't think that's such a great idea," her mother said. "This isn't an emergency. Only four inches on a Sunday morning and people can handle it without the Windcatcher. I think the danger is that if you start doing feats like that, everyone will quickly come to expect it from you. And then you'll be caught in an obligation."

"Hmm. Yeah, you got a point." Haley brought her cereal over to the table and began to shovel it down. Slender and coltish, she had the teenager's gift of being able to eat constantly without putting on weight. After a few mouthfuls, she went on, "When you had the Air Gem, did people bug you to help them out alla time?"

"No, because we didn't start. We used our Gems sparingly. I've told you what happened when I tried to break up a thunderstorm and just made two separate storms that were worse. That's a great power you're fooling with, young lady. You can't catch mice with a hand grenade."

"Got it. Lesson taken to heart. I still think it's totally weird how casual everyone is about my flying over the town and everything. They're so, well, blasé. It's crazy."

Lisa folded up the local paper and handed it over to her younger daughter. "It was the same with us. Midnight War scholars think that's a side effect of the Gems. Their gralic effect sort of dampens everyone's curiosity. What did you say you were doing today again?"

"Oh, Gina's been texting me non-stop about a big Mysterious Mystery. A man's body was found out on Van Broek Road and his car was found miles away. She's all excited. I think she's been watching too many Unsolved Crime shows and sees us as genius detectives."

Lisa got up with her coffee cup and saucer and, seeing that her daughter had finished the cereal, took the bowl with her to the sink as well. "I know, I know, telling you to be careful is like telling a stone wall...."

"Mommmm," complained Haley. "I can summon tornadoes and fly. What could happen to me?"

( the rest of the story )

"To Dust We Return"

6/14/2023

I.

Jeremy Bane was in a restless, troubled mood. The hyper metabolism which gave him his enhanced speed and reflexes also charged him with excess energy that had to constantly be burned off. Already that morning, he had gone through his DohRa form, showered and changed into what was practically his uniform of black slacks, turtleneck and sports jacket. And now he was at a loss what to do for the rest of the day. There were no threats in the air as far as he could see. The Midnight War had certainly quieted down since the hectic days when he had led the KDF against the likes of Karl Eldritch, the Preincarnators or Wu Lung.

Pacing around a living room so free from clutter that it seemed no one lived there, the Dire Wolf tried without success to calm down. At sixty-five, he still showed few signs of age other than a scattering of white in the short black hair and lines at the outer corners of those pale grey eyes. He was still lean to the point of seeming gaunt and he circled the room with the easy stride of a much younger man.

The day before, he had called Sable to see if the newest KDF team had anything on hand and had been regretfully told no. He had phoned Sheng at the Fist For Hire agency and gotten the same wry answer. It had been weeks since any sightings of paranormal activity, crypto-beasts or new criminal masterminds. Maybe it was time to return to Tel Shai for a week. He would spend some welcome time with Cindy, get more intense training from Teacher Chael, maybe add annotations to the Great Archives. Yes. That was a good idea.

Bane paused in front of the picture window which looked out on Pierpont Street. A dark blue Subaru Outback was coming to a stop against the curb. That was Police Detective Chatcuff's car and there was the short stocky form of Harvey Chatcuff himself getting out to walk up the short flagstone path across Bane's tiny front yard. The Dire Wolf felt his spirits lift as if hearing a bugle calling charge. Something was up!

As he waited by the door, Bane thought again about how Megan Salenger had repeatedly tried to install Trom scanners on the steps outside to check for ID matches in NYPD or Mandate files, as well as sensors to read off a visitor's height and weight, blood pressure, heartbeat and whether or not large bits of metal were on his person. Bane had refused. He had thought at the time he was actually retiring from the Midnight War. Now, when he remembered Megan, he wished he had humored her. It would have made her happy.

As the doorbell rang, the Dire Wolf took a deep breath. He was counting on his Kunmundu training to be sure that this was Harvey Chatcuff and that the
body language indicated no intention to attack. Opening the door, he swung sideways and gestured for the man to enter. "Detective Chatcuff! I know there's trouble when you drive all the way out here to Forest Hills."

"Hiya, Bane," came the strongly New Yawk accented voice. "Nobody else here?"

"No. Sit down and tell me what disaster you want me to stop."

Lowering himself to a chair facing the leather-covered couch, Chatfuff unbottoned his suit jacket to let his paunch breathe a little. "I have to give the usual speech first. This is unoffical, off the record, unauthorized and all that. The Department does not use you as a freelance vigilante. In fact, I didn't even come here today."

Bane dropped down on the couch, clasping his hands together as he felt alive for the first time in a week. "Understood."

"I don't even have any photos or reports or anything to show you. But I know your memory is good. First victim was Howard John Nivens, 48, lived on Sycamore Avenue in Glenville, Long Island. He was found Monday morning between two residential houses. Both lungs were crammed full of dry dirt."

The Dire Wolf's pale eyes lit up. "That's something new."

"I sure never heard of such a thing. And the ME is so stumped he yells at anyone who asks him how it was done. Then, last night at two-thirty in the morning, a man's body was found behind a Chinese restaurant on Broadway in Carlinton, Long Island. Name was Stan Woodrow. Age 41. His chest was crushed flat, sternum cracked and every rib broken. And like Nivens, it's a mystery how he was killed."

"Yeah? Why is that?" It never occurred to Bane to offer coffee or tea to his visitor. His manners would never be polished.

"Well, the captain has an idea that someone put a flat piece of wood or metal on his body and then drove over it with a car. Sounds plausible. But Woodrow was found sprawled up against the wall of the Chinese restaurant and the forensic guys found fibers from his coat pressed into the bricks. Some blood as well."

Despite himself, the Dire Wolf got up on his feet and began pacing. He couldn't help it, being restless under the best of conditions. "Oh, this is interesting. Let me think about it. I suppose it could still be done. Two guys hold the victim up against the restaurant wall with a board across his chest. Then a third man drives a car or truck forward slowly to press against the board. The victim falls, they grab the board and ride away."

"Could be. But there's one more interesting detail. Bane, dirt was found pressed into the fabric of the front of Woodrow's coat and shirt. Lab says it's identical to the soil that killed Nivens."

( the rest of the story )

"Babe Lincoln"

6/2-6/3/2012

I.

"The super-hero poses are very dramatic, Hales, but they don't get the job done."

Pouting at the snark from her best friend forever, Windcatcher lowered her fists from her hips and threw the heavy blue cloak back over her shoulders. At seventeen, slender and long-legged in snug blue shorts and a long-sleeved white pullover, Haley Lawson had the confidence of youth that nothing really bad could happen to her. No matter how much she asked for it.

Her rich auburn hair blazed in the early September sunlight, and under heavy bangs a pair of lime green eyes winked at Gina and Bentley. "Okay, I'm gonna try it. Not sure how well this will work out."

"That's why we're sitting way over here," called Gina from forty feet away.

"Oh ye of little faith..." Haley grumbled, moving up to a waist high boulder that was standing by an outcropping at the edge of the meadow. "See, I got this idea because of something my mom did when she was in high school. One winter, the driver's door of her car was covered with ice. No way to open. She thought it would be a good idea to bring up a soup pan of boiling water from the house and pour it all over."

Bentley laughed out loud at the thought and Gina smirked in her own subdued way.

"Yeah! She got the door open and drove to school BUT the window on the driver's door was shattered into a million little bits. So, let me take what Mom learned the hard way and put it to good use." She touched the soft choker under her shirt collar to contact the unimaginably ancient Air Gem and concentrated. Over an active volcano on the Big Island of Hawaii, air at a temperature just under two thousand degrees was mystically siphoned the great distance to flow over that rock. The surface turned bright cherry red instantly, and the shape of the rock visibly sagged.

"That's part one," Haley announced and then launched a blast of wind from an Antarctic storm. Eighty degrees below zero, that air struck the superheated rock which exploded like a grenade and sent shards whizzing off in all directions. Haley yelped and jumped back too late to have done any good.

"Haley, come on!" screamed Gina. "Are you TRYING to kill us?!"

"Sorry, sorry, you guys aren't hurt?"

"No. I'm okay. Bentley, did you get hit by any of that?"

The gawky eighteen year old was patting his arms and legs tentatively, looking for blood. "I'm good. But man, that was close. I heard a piece of rock buzz by me and it sounded like a bee."

Haley Lawson herself noticed a gash in the fabric of her blue cloak, down by the lower hem. As sublimely confident as she was, the thought did pass through her head that a sharp fragment of rock could have taken out someone's eye or sliced across an artery. But it hadn't. And as quickly as that, she moved on.

"Okay, okay, I guess my next experiments will be conducted a wee leetle bit more carefully. I think I can manipulate hot and cold air masses enough to cause lightning strikes..."

"Time for us to go!" yelled Gina, hopping to her feet. She was a petite curvy Junior at Haley's high school, with the full wavy hair that came from being full Italian generations back. She was yanking on her boyfriend's arm as if she had spotted a brown bear emerging from the woods.

The Windcatcher trotted over to her friends, waving her hands. "Not today, not today, I swear. That's enough for right now. What we need to experiment on is pizza. How does that sound?"

Both Gina and Bentley came to a halt. "It's always a good time for pizza," the boy agreed. We skipped lunch to come out here and it must be four o'clock by now."

"Out of deference to our jangled nerves, I will not fly us down to the Village Pizza joint but we will walk with our feet solid on the ground. Sound like a plan?"

Gina began tugging Bentley in the opposite direction, toward the long sloping h
ill which led down to Glenville. He didn't mind. He had gotten used to her pulling on his arm to make he was going along with her impulses. "Say, Haley," Gina said, "I was wondering. If you got to be really good with your Air Gem, I mean like perfectly in control, couldn't you make the weather better? Couldn't you stop droughts and break up hurricanes and stuff?"

Unsnapping her cloak and rolling it up to carry under one arm, Windcatcher sighed. "You'd think so, ya know? But Mom said that she tried it when she had the Gem, and things went wrong every time. If she tried to stop a hurricane, she could split it up but it would surge back stronger than before. Redirecting floods caused just as much damage somewhere else. One time she tried to divert a Northeaster, big winter storm ya know? and it split into TWO Northeasters and got much worse."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Bentley offered. "I know you've got a good heart, Haley. You want to help people."

"Thanks. But it seems like weather is just too big and too complicated to mess with. Maybe someday, I'll try starting small and see what I can do. But for now, I think the Air Gem has to be used carefully. With great power...."

"Yeah, we know the quote," Gina laughed. "I still think you need to start reading some real books for a change."

Heading down the hill toward Church Road, Haley said, "Have you guys seen on the local news about this burglar called Babe Lincoln...?"

( the )

"The Chimera Is Back!"

6/19/-6/22/2012

I.

Haley's landings needed so much work. Summoning tornado winds to lift her into the sky and even to travel at a hundred feet up was relatively easy with the Air Gem. But lessening those winds gradually and coming down to the ground safely was much more difficult. The concentration needed was so demanding that she couldn't get it right.

So the Windcatcher was practicing over Lake Schoonmaker, eight miles from her home in Glenville, Long Island. Sitting on the white sand shore were her two best friends and romantic couple for more than a year, Gina and Bentley.

Descending to twenty feet, Haley swept back the heavy blue cloak over her shoulders. It was a big help in guiding her flight while in the air, but a real nuisance at the moment. She dropped her legs down, spread her arms out wide and her thoughts wandered for an instant as a fish broke the surface nearby. That was all it took. She plummeted straight down with a mighty splash.

"Drat this anyway!" she spluttered and began stroking toward shore. Tall at seventeen with long legs, she was a strong swimmer who loved the water but at the moment she was vexed beyond endurance. The wet heavy cloak weighed her down like a blanket. Her chestnut hair was tied back in a ponytail but her bangs were too long and hanging in her eyes, dripping heavily.

Standing with his feet in the water, Bentley held a cork lifesaver ring he had taken from his uncle's pool. This had been his idea. He watched Haley drawing nearer without being able to hide his concern. If she seemed to be struggling, he was going in to help her whether she wanted it or not.

Gina Giacomo had come over to stand beside him. Italian on both sides, she was widely considered by the boys to be the sexiest junior at their high school. That day, she was wearing the bottom half of a blue bikini with a fuzzy white long-sleeved shirt. She had no intention of getting in the water after all the time she had spent preparing her long mane of curly black hair.

"It was that fish, Hales!" she sang out. "I saw it. He deliberately screwed up your landing."

Plopping down on the sand, panting after the exertion, Haley unsnapped the cloak and let it fall to one side. "I'm exhausted. My head is killing me. This flying is like doing trig in your head while riding a bicycle uphill. Movies and comics make it look so easy!"

A few feet away were two white beach towels covered with bottles of sunblock, a bag full of empty soda cans and crumpled up potato chip bags, three cell phones and an oversized pair of aviator sunglasses. Getting up on her feet, Haley lurched over there and dropped to her knees to claim the last can of Mountain Dew. "Whew. Thanks for being ready with the lifesaver, Bentley. You're the best."

"He IS. I landed a great boyfriend," Gina added. "Listen, Haley, while you were up there swooping and soaring and whatnot, I saw something on the news that might interest you."

Winging out the soaking wet cloak to let dry in the warm June sunlight, Windcatcher asked, "Like what?"

"Here, I saved it." Shading her phone's screen with one hand, said, "Let's see. Umm, there have been sightings in Danverton of a mysterious man in a purple costume. He beat up three men who were trying to rob an elderly gentlemen on North Wall Street Saturday night. Wednesday at two AM, he chased away a creep who was following a woman walking home from Rustler's Dance Club and made sure she made it to her apartment."

"That's what I should be doing!" yelped Haley. "As soon as I get a little better control, I will patrolling high crime areas late at night. Well, at least until school starts up."

"Sounds like Long Island has another super-hero," Gina said. "Listen to his description. A tall athletic man wearing a purple jumpsuit with black riding boots and a hooded mask which covered his face except around his nose and mouth. On the front of his shirt was a white silhouette of some strange animal neither witness recognized."

"Oh my God, the Chimera!" blurted Haley. "I read all about him when I was little. That was ages ago. He disappeared around the time I was born, late 1995. I couldn't get enough about him. Officially, the police made statements calling upon him to stop his unlawful vigilante crusade but, you know, somehow they never showed up until he was gone. I figured they watched from a distance and only moved in to clear up after Chimera was off the scene."

"There's more," Gina said. "Known from notes he left naming himself as the Chimera, the masked man subdued a gunman who had robbed a liquor store and left the perp tied up with his own belt and shoelaces. In the summer of 1994, he smashed up two Asian massge parlors staffed by underage Korean girls brought into the country illegally. He left the girls at the local FBI office in Manhattan and their testimony led to the arrest and conviction of the owner on human trafficking charges."

"You see why he was my hero?! I still have a scrapbook of newspaper clippings about him somewhere," Haley laughed.

"How come he never got shot?" asked Bentley.

"What?"

"Haley, I know you're nuts about super-hero comics but they've given you seriously unrealistic ideas. I don't care if you're the world's greatest master of kung fu and karate, you can't charge at armed men without getting shot. And it says he did this not once but at least five reported times." Bentley shook his head. "It smells fishy."

"Aw, your feet smell fishy," Haley scoffed. "Maybe he was very very lucky or maybe he's a former Navy SEAL or something. What I want to know is how he can still be active. That was a long time ago."

Gina said, "Hey, suppose he was in his mid-twenties back then. He'd be forty-five today. That's not ANCIENT! My dad is forty-six and he runs three miles a day in all weather. I bet my dad is stronger than any of the wrestlers at our school."

"Maybe your dad is the Chimera," offered Haley in her sweetest, most innocent voice.

"No such luck. Mom watches him like a hawk. If he tried sneaking out at night, she'd bust his eardrums with her yelling."

Haley had that familiar far-away look that warned of trouble brewing in her lime-green eyes. "So where has the Chimera been all these years? Why has he gone back into action now? What's his deal anyway?"

( the rest of the story )

"ATRUMO THE CONQUEROR III: The Boiling Pit of Filth"

3/27/2015

I.

Two of the stinking Ghulgol held him up by the arms, his legs dragging across the gleaming marble floor, and hauled Bane toward a massive wooden chair that served his enemy as a throne. He was flung brutally down at the boots of the Conqueror as the unliving creatures stepped back awkwardly.

Dazed and aching from being beaten with maces, his field suit hanging in mere shreds and tatters from the corrosive Alchemical mist which had engulfed him, Jeremy Bane remained completely defiant. He pulled himself up to a seated position, unfastened the crumbling helmet and yanked it off. Revealed in the overhead fluorescent lights was an intense narrow face with short black hair and cold grey eyes that glared up at his enemy.

No one knew Atrumo's true backstory. Some said he had been sold to Chujiran slavers to work their jade mines and had escaped by killing twenty guards when he reached manhood. There were those who claimed he had been lost as a child in the wilderness of Evaho and had raised himself as a wild beast might. Rumors also circulated that Atrumo was a disinherited illegitimate son of some Melgar royalty, perhaps even a bastard child of King Holmir himself. It didn't matter. He was a threat to be reckoned with now.

The raider chief wore high-laced boots and leggings of deerhide and was naked from the waist up presumably to display immense hard muscles a blacksmith might envy. Around his waist was wrapped a thin cord of red metal links. On a leather thong around a neck thicker than his head hung a faceted scarlet crystal wide as a man's outstretched hand. Atrumo's hair was concealed beneath an black iron helmet forged to resemble the maned head of a lion from within which his flat brutal face glared out. Between the bristling dark beard and the shadowy overhang of that helmet, little could be seen of his features. "The Dire Wolf. Again! We will not meet a fourth time."

"That's just what I was thinking," Bane snapped back, forcing himself up on to his feet. "The last thing the realms need is an imitation Saturnius like you."

"Defiant to the last breath, I see. I will not waste your carcass, Dire Wolf. Even in death, you will further my campaign." He gestured to the Ghulgol. "Each of you take one arm and one leg. Another of you, stay close to crack his skull open if he resists. Come, let us visit the Boiling Pit."

( the rest of the story )

"ATRUMO THE CONQUEROR I: Fragile Shorelines'

3/3/2015

I.

Snow-topped mountains were made blue by distance. High on the wind-scoured hill overlooking the harbor, the King's Grand Hall stood on a foundation of huge stones. The dark wood of the outer walls was elaborately carved with abstract shapes in recurring patterns. On the landing by the main door, two posts rose up sixty feet with green flags snapping in the stiff breezes. The one to the right as one approached bore the rearing outline of Skandor's Standing Bear, while the other showed a front view of a bear's head. This was the emblem of the province Kyldal.

Long before the three KDF members made it up the flag-stoned road to the front approach of the hall, guards in mail coats and wielding long barb-headed spears had lined up at the bottom of the twenty-three stone steps. They seemed to be typical Skandorin, tall brawny men with dark blond hair in braids and thick, close-cropped beards. The pale skin, often freckled, was reddened by exposure to the whistling winds at this altitude.

Past the humbler thatched-roof huts and cottages of the villagers, past three lesser Halls where the noblemen and trades masters resided, up to the Grand Hall itself they strode. Jeremy Bane stopped at the base of the wide steps with Haley and Jocelyn on either side. Against the blue of the morning sky and the white snow, his grey eyes reflected even paler than usual.

One of the guards called down, "Halt and be recognized."

"We are Knights of Tel Shai seeking audience with King Birgun,"answered Bane. "The Dire Wolf stands before you with his teammates."

"Well do we remember you, Dire Wolf, from dark days not long gone," the center guard replied. "You bear no swords, no spears nor axes nor other tools of war, as any eye can tell."

All three were being subjected to intense stares but, as was expected, it was Jocelyn Garimara who was the focus of most scrutiny. A short slender Aboriginal woman from the northwest near Wyndham, her smooth dark skin and distinctive facial features were like nothing these insular Skandorin had ever imagined. Their open curiosity didn't bother her. She had long since gotten used to it during her travels.

"And you, maiden" and here he pointed his weapon at the other young woman, "Beneath that cloak is no weapon?"

Haley Lawson threw back the heavy dark blue cloak to show she was wearing incongruous sneakers, blue shorts and a long-sleeved white pullover. "I'm armed with only my smile," the Windcatcher laughed. She was being less than honest, of course, because fastened on a choker around her neck was the ancient Air Gem crafted by Malberon ages ago. But her policy was never to volunteer that information.

The Dire Wolf held out the seven-inch combat knife strapped to his thigh without comment. None of them had brought the anesthetic dart guns or regular pistols. Skandor was a realm where gunpowder and other technology would not function.

Bane did not mention the matched ensalir daggers he wore under his sleeves. Expensive covers of molded silicone made the knives feel exactly like normal Human muscle even to a trained searcher. He had no intention of revealing any of this. Those daggers were made of silver ensorcelled by the immortal Eldanarin themselves and had slain creatures of the night of every description. The Dire Wolf stepped back and waited while a preteen page in rough tunic and hose ran into the hall.

In mere seconds, the boy galloped back outside and bowed his head to the visitors. "Our Lord says he will see you at once," he said and gestured with both hands for the strangers to follow him. While three of the guards remained by the doorway, one accompanied the Tel Shai knights into a cavernous single room supported by flanking rows of massive pillars and well lit by many high narrow windows covered with oiled cloth. Tables for dining had been pushed back against the walls with their benches. In each corner of the the Hall, a fireplace roared and crackled with hunting hounds lying in comfort near the heat.

On a raised dais, upon a wooden throne inscribed with many esoteric runes and images, sat King Birgun son of Evanmir. Past sixty but dstill athletic and imposing of build, he watched with sharp perceptive eyes at the three. Birgun was dark for a son of Skandor, with glossy brown hair that reached his shoulders, but considerable white strands mixed in.

His heavy robe was trimmed at collar and cuffs with brown bear fur, and his crown was of stiff leather set with a white cameo of the bear head. "Come be admitted, Dire Wolf, Jeremy Bane of the outside world, both you and your comrades."

With Jocelyn and Haley, Bane bowed deeply but did not drop to one knee as was customary. Their status as Tel Shai knights set them apart from many courtesies and protocols. "Hail, Birgun, King of Skandor. It's been years since the last time I was in your land and, once again, I regret that I come with grim tidings to bear."

"I would expect no less. Dire Wolf! You are known to race ahead of every breaking storm, and there are those who say you bring said storms with you."

"Your late father, respect to his name, must have related tales of what urgencies brought me here and how we stood together to defend this land."

Standing slightly behind the throne, an old woman with white hair done up under a tiara stared. Her right eye bulged out considerably larger than its mate, red-veined and hot. She whispered, "When has great misfortune come to our land without this Dire Wolf arriving before it? Does he bring warning or does he bring the evils with him?"

Before Birgun could respond, Bane said, "Has your majesty received word on the fall of Thamulkor?"

To his credit, the king kept his face from betraying any reaction and his words were cautious also. "What word do you bring me, Dire Wolf?"

"That realm has been overrun completely," Bane answered. "The cities have stopped burning because there is nothing left to burn. The Almadim were slaughtered. Some of the smaller female children were carried off. You can guess why. Even the cattle and sheep and goats were cut down."

"How is all this known to him?" hissed the old woman from directly behind the king.

Not looking toward her, staring directly at Birgun, Bane asked, "Who sits on the throne of his fathers, ruling Skandor by grace of great Jordyn Himself? And to whom should I speak?"

That stung the king's pride. He sat up straighter and raised his head. "One land, one king. That is the law. Give a name to these invaders and their leader, if you can."

Jeremy Bane had the quiet self-assurance from a lifetime spent in the Midnight War. He did not raise his voice but remained steady. "It's a genuine army, tens of thousands strong. Humans serve as its herders and whip hands but the soldiers are not fully alive. They are Ghulgols, 'the living filth,' And their master is the Melgar conqueror Atrumo."

( the rest of the story )

"Silk and Stone, Wood and Leather and Iron"

12/17/2013

I.

From one hundred feet up, Haley lessened the tornado winds which were propelling her through the sky. She lowered her legs, stretched her arms out to either side for balance and dropped toward her friends who were staring up with trepidation. Too fast. The Windcatcher cloak flipped around to cover her head and cut off her vision; she dropped down to slam hard into Timothy and Demrak Jin, tumbling all three of them end over end across the meadow. The frozen earth did not make the impact less punishing.

"Will you PLEASE pay attention!" shouted Timothy Limbo. He had ended up on the bottom of the heap, stretched out on his back with Haley sitting up near the top of his chest and Jin sprawled over his legs. The small Gelydran woman sputtered incoherently as she disentangled herself from Tim and Haley.

Getting the heavy blue cloak straightened out, Haley grinned down at her new KDF teammate. "Be honest, Tim. Back in school, lots of guys would have absolutely loved to have me sitting on them like this."

It was true. At eighteen, Haley Lawson was cute rather than gorgeous, tall and slender with trim long legs in blue tights. Her best feature was the pair of bright lime-green eyes under auburn bangs. She showed no inclination to get up off Tim.

For her own part, Demrak Jin was bristling with outrage. The Gelydra was only a few inches over five feet tall but wiry and lithe. She wore her Race's customary long-sleeved tunic and pants of abrasive grey shark-hide and had her bone-bladed long knife sheathed across her back. "You do not take seriously the great gift you have been given." she spat. "Perhaps you do not deserve the Air Gem."

Finally climbing up onto her feet, brushing back to tangling long hair from her face, Haley said, "Ease up, Sharkie. So I misjudged my approach a little. I knew my pals would be glad to catch me."

"Sharkie...!?"

"Come on, you guys, settle down." Timothy Limbo alone of the three partners had on the KDF field suit they were supposed to wear on missions to the other realms. The heavy boots, pants and waist-length jacket were not only made of tough protective material, they held a dozen small tools and gadgets in concealed pockets. Timothy stood up, tugging down his jacket where it had become twisted around, and gestured at the vast green expanse that reached down the hill where they stood. "We've got some hiking to do before it gets dark. Better get to it. We only have forty-eight hours here in Signarm before we zap back to the real world."

Haley began, "Why walk? This realm has got some great storms to the far north, I can sense them. Let me summon some two hundred mile per hour winds and I can fly us to this town where we're supposed to go..."

"No." The single word from the Gelydra carried immense conviction. In the late afternoon sunlight from a cloudless sky, Demrak Jin did look intimidating. In a wide flat face under bristling white hair, her eyes were sullen. Her people of Ulgor believed that each of them was born at the same time a shark was, and that the ferocious shark spirit lived in their hearts. Haley's attempts at nicknaming Jin "Sharkie" were not far off the mark.

Windcatcher wilted a little at the cold stare she was getting. "Oh, all right. I suppose walking gives us time to review this mission." She started leading the way at a brisk stride. "Now, let's start with we're in the northwest region of Signarm. It's called Barodal, kind of rustic and uninvolved in what the Barons and the King are up to."

"You are accurate so far," Jin admitted grudgingly as she trudged along behind her two mates. "What more can you say?"

"Well, it's farmland mostly. Wheat, tobacco, some corn. A lot of small villages but no towns big enough to really be called a city. The Barodalin are supposed to be pretty comfy here with lots to eat and their own homemade corn liquor to drink. If you go south, the Barons are always ganging up on each other in vicious little wars, but up here things are quieter."

"You have to admit, Haley was paying attention at our briefing." Timothy Limbo had slightly taken the lead as the slope slanted down more steeply. Coming into sight was a narrow river that sparkled silver in the sunlight, and wooden buildings could be made out along its bank. "We have a few observers here. That was Jeremy's doing, of course. When he was KDF leader, he tried to have some locals on retainer in every realm. They let us know if anything weird and ominous happens."

"Weird and ominous is what we're all about!" laughed Haley.

"Yep, true enough. Sable got a message from one of our observers here. Some of the farmers have been hurt by mysterious intruders. No fatalities so far, but broken arms and severe bruising are no joke. Houses have been ransacked and supplies like food and firewood stolen. And inhuman figures have been seen, running through the night."

"It's the sightings of these monsters that worry me," Haley put in. "Moving statues! Moving statues of iron and granite, smashing down doors and paying no attention to the pitchforks or shovels getting broken on them. Kind of a scary image, no wonder the rednecks of this realm are spooked."

"These creatures have not met US yet," Demrak Jin said.

( the rest of the story )

"She'd Make the Devil Nervous"

4/28/2015

I.

It was a few minutes before noon when she heard the yelling and crashing from the third floor just above. Haley Lawson was hunched over at the long oak table in the conference room. In front of her was a huge 19th Century tome with tiny cramped lettering, all about how shape-shifters followed different rules and restrictions based more on what they believed to be true than what really bound them. Reading it made her head hurt. This was worse than being back in high school taking World Economics. But being a KDF member meant learning a wide variety of skills, from emergency trauma medicine to flying the CORBY stealthcopter to identifying bite marks from various mythological creatures who turned out to be not so mythical. It was a lot to digest.

After what sounded like furniture being smashed directly overhead, Haley lifted her head and surprisingly grinned. Her best feature was a pair of clear lime-green eyes under chestnut bangs, and her face was at its most appealing when she was smiling widely. The Windcatcher was wearing a plain white T-shirt, jeans and sneakers, being off-duty that day. She pushed her chair back from the table and heard the exchange of a deep thundering voice answering a louder, shriller one.

Demrak Jin and Galvan were fighting. Of course, she thought with perverse satisfaction, she had been expecting the clash. In fact, she was surprised it had taken this long. The Windcatcher got up and went over the door to the hall, peering out cautiously. A second later, she saw the tiny form of the Ulgoran woman racing furiously down the stairs. With her bristling short white hair, Demrak Jin was unmistakeable even at a glance. She was leaping down the stairs at a reckless pace.

Haley stepped out into the hallway, uncertain if she should ask what was going on or just keep out of the way. As she leaned over the bannister and looked down at the first floor below them, a huge dark form hurtled past her to land with a solid thump in the front hall. Galvan had simply jumped down from the third floor to the first, bypassing the stairs and absorbing the impact with his immense leg muscles. Even after the past few months of seeing him every day, Haley still stared at the giant Melgar. Wearing only a pair of khaki pants, his upper body was an amazing V-shaped wedge of broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, covered with hard well-defined muscles. She had never seen anyone built like that in real life.

Galvan landed just behind Demrak Jin. The Gelydra spun quickly, crouching with fists raised in comical defiance of a man who stood more than a foot taller and who weighed more than twice as much as she did. Jin had on her tunic and pants of grey sharkhide, worn with the rough denticle side out to abrade opponents, but the bone-bladed knife was not strapped across her narrow back for once. Despite the difference in their sizes, there was something elemental and savage about the Gelydra that made her seem threatening even to a huge brute like Galvan.

Galvan's broad, bearded face seemed obviously worried. He held up both open hands in a placating gesture. "Calm yourself, little shark. We both knew that this day would come...."

"Your words are not to be trusted!" Demrak Jin snarled. She took a menacing step toward the big Galvan and he actually backed up. "Shall you rip out my very heart and toss it aside and live to boast of the deed?"

Watching from the landing above, Haley muttered to herself, "Oh, this is gonna be juicy."

Galvan was tanned and handsome in a gruff lumberjack way, with thick curly hair that matched his beard. When he smiled in an attempt at being disarming, perfect teeth gleamed white as chalk. "Jin, Jin. We did talk of this. Our time together was great pleasure for both of us, but every season passes in its due.."

"I will hear no more!" The Gelydra dove forward in a blur of motion, bringing her right fist down almost by her knee and swinging it up in a vicious hook that smacked exactly on the side of Galvan's face. The Melgar did not even flinch at that blow but Jin fell back with a gasp. She gripped her right hand with her left and moved back a few steps.

"I hope you haven't hurt your hand," Galvan began. "You should know better than to strike me, little shark."

"A broken fist is naught compared to a broken heart!" Demrak Jin screamed. "I never thought I'd give myself to... to a Melgar!" And with that she whirled on one foot and raced out the front door to East 38th Street.

After the door slammed shut, Galvan stood motionless in the front hall. His shoulders lowered and he let out a sigh from deep within the huge chest. Coming down the stairs behind him, Haley cleared her throat.

"I couldn't help but hear that," she said. "Jin has always had a temper. I've seen her blow up like that over food being burnt in a restaurant."

The Melgar champion slowly turned to face Windcather. "The Melgarin have a saying, 'she'd make the Devil nervous.' Ah, so it goes. Perhaps I should not stay here any longer. There will always be friction and bad feelings between her and I. Too bad, as I have greatly enjoyed my adventures with your team and we two have not even teamed up."

Haley Lawson waggled a finger at him. "Just don't get any thoughts about landing ME in bed next. You've already tagged Jocelyn and Jin. Do you have a checklist or something?"

There was genuine hurt in the deepset brown eyes. "Oh, Haley, you misunderstand. Women have always been drawn to me and I to them. Like wine and song and tales of brave deeds, the company of women is a great joy in life. I do not seek it out. But I accept it when it comes to me."

"Get a shirt on, and we can talk on equal terms. You're too distracting with those muscles hanging out all over," she answered. "I suppose now we will have to wait for Jin to come back once she calms down."

He started up the stairs toward his guest room on the third floor. "And I expect Sable will have much to say about this when she returns later. More worries."

( the rest of the story )

"What Remains Behind"

11/19/2013

I.

Timothy Limbo didn't even notice when the motel room door opened behind him with a click of the lock being forced. He was still kneeling on the thin rug in front of the chair in which Emmy sat. Her chest only moved three or four times a minute, but he was convincing himself that the breathing was growing stronger and more frequent. Timothy had long since stopped looking for a pulse. Even the heating pad he had draped over her shoulders could not raised her temperature above that of the room.

For a long time, the door remained open behind him and the gust of cold December wind finally got his attention. In his late twenties, Timothy had not filled out much since adolesence. He was still a thin, gawky figure a few inches under six feet tall. His worn old leather jacket, jeans and biker boots did not make him intimidating in the slightest. Under a mop of butter-yellow hair, the bony face was as blank as Emmy's.

Closing the door, Haley Lawson gaped at the scene, not even aware her mouth was hanging wide open. Bundled up in a down-filled blue parka and wool scarf, she had left her long reddish-brown hair down free over her shoulders. She was much younger than he was, having barely reached twenty. Haley's most striking feature was a lovely pair of lime-green eyes but right now the expression in those eyes was pure dismay.

"Tim?" she ventured finally. "Hi. Excuse me. Sable didn't send me, I came on my own. When she contacted you after twelve hours, you just signalled back that you would get in touch later. You used the Green code to indicate you were in no danger. We didn't hear from you after that."

There was no response on his face. After a second, he swung around back to gaze up at Emmy. "You can't help, Haley. Go home."

"Oh, honey, I think you need more help than you realize." She unzipped her coat and dropped down on the rug next to him. "She's gorgeous, Timothy. Look at that hair. It's so jet black and wavy. Who is she?"

"Who WAS she? That's what you mean. Her name was Emily Giacoma. We went through grade school and high school together. Usually in the same homeroom. Yeah, she was always pretty."

Haley reached over and shook him by the shoulder as hard as she could. "Tim! Snap out of it. Look at me for a second. Turn your head and look at me." When she saw his eyes start to focus in her direction, she went on, "You know she's dead, right? Are you in shock or something?"

"Not really dead. She walked in here and sat down by herself. Emmy, wave to the nice girl."

With the faintest of creaking noises at the shoulder, Emily Giacoma lifted her right arm and held out an open hand in the most ghastly attempt at a wave imaginable. Her arm fell back down by itself.

"Oh my God, I can't handle this!" yelled Haley. The Windcatcher jumped to her feet and seized Tim by both arms to make him rise as well. She yanked hard enough to get him up without his cooperation. "What is wrong with you? Timothy Lambert, stare me right in the eyes. No, no, do not turn back or I swear I'll slap you so hard it'll break your nose."

"Don't be mad at me," he said mildly, lowering his gaze to the floor.

Still squeezing his arms hard enough to hurt, Haley tugged him with her as she backed toward the door and got them both outside. The wind chill was near ten above that night and despite his state, Timothy blinked and glanced around him. "I have to go back in," he said. "She might need me."

"She is beyond needing anything, Tim. Seriously. Listen to my voice. Am I your friend?"

"Sure. I know that."

"I prank you and give you hell and all that, but it's because I love you to pieces. Tim, what happened to Alacredo? Where is he?"

Timothy frowned and started to turn back to the motel door but she gripped him with fingers like vises. The freezing air was bringing awareness back. "Alacredo? He's dead. He had a ceremonial knife. I took it from him and.. I killed him. I had to get Emmy away from there."

"That's okay. He sure deserved it. Alacredo was a disgraced Hungan, a 'gangan' who was wanted by the authorities all over the Caribbean for multiple murders and abuse.The FBI alerted us he was in America."

The dark blue eyes seemed to see her for the first time. "Haley? Haley, Alacredo kidnapped Emily. He killed her and resurrected her to be his servant. He said he had to destroy all his Zombies when he left Cuba. Emily was going to be the first of his staff..." He shivered violently and glanced around the deserted parking lot. "What time is it anyway?"

"It's a quarter after three. And it's Sunday morning. We left headquarters Friday afternoon to start searching for Alacredo."

"Really." He twisted his head around toward the lit window of the room they had left. "Emmy has a big family. Three brothers and two sisters. They're Italian, you know. They must be so worried about her, but I can't call them."

"No. They must not see her this way." Haley had dropped her hands as she decided Timothy was not about to rush back into the room. "We've discussed what to do in a situation like this. All those KDF policy meetings with Sable going over all the horrifying situations we might find ourselves in."

"I'm freezing, Hales. Let's get back inside, I'm all right."

"In a minute. Here. I'm sure you haven't eaten anything in thirty-six hours." She reached into a pocket and came out with a handful of dried meat sticks, peeled the cellophane wrappers off two and gave one to him. "These are so bad for me, packed with salt and preservatives and God knows what, but I can't resist once in a while. I picked them up at a gas station on the way here."

Chewing on the snack, Timothy said, "You found me through my Link, I guess?"

"Yeah. You turned it off but we knew where the last signal had come from. Sable was taking the rest of the team to some emergency in Veganora, I dunno what. There's always a crisis somewhere. I said no, I had to find Tim and she agreed." Haley offered him another Slim Jim and he took it.

"I guess I was getting hungry after all ," he admitted. "Ow, feel that wind. Okay. Haley, we need to sneak Emmy back to our headquarters. There has to be a way to undo this Voodoo spell and revive her."

"Oh, honey, no. Stop thinking that's a possibility. You were there when Samuel Watesa spent a whole day lecturing us on this stuff. No one has ever found a way to return magick-based Zombies to life. It just never happens." The Windcatcher watched his face somberly. "Your friend was killed and her body given a semblance of animation, but she's NOT alive."

Timothy was shivering visibly, and he swung around toward the door to his room. "I'm going in, Hales, it's too cold out here. Come on. Help me decide what to do next."

"All right." Back inside, the air seemed stuffy and oppressive by contrast. She wrestled out of her parka before she would start to sweat. Underneath, she was wearing a bright gold cardigan over a black shirt since yellow always went well with her green eyes. Haley steered Timothy away from heading back toward the body and made him sit on the short couch in the corner. She dropped down next to him and rubbed his back to give what comfort she could.

"Now I keep thinking of her family," Timothy said. "They're all so close. They must be worried and hysterical."

"We have to end this," she agreed. "I'm so sorry, Tim. She was a childhood friend of yours. But that's not her. The real Emily has gone on, she has crossed over into the light. This shell is only what we leave behind."

"That's why we call it 'the remains,' " he agreed. "I understand. Oh God. I never dated Em, you understand, we were pals. We went swimming in the summer with a whole bunch of friends, we went to concerts and street fairs, that sort of thing. Always laughing, always raising hell. She's gone now. I get that, but it's so hard...."

"You can cry if you want. It's okay. I won't think any less of you."

"I'm all dried out from crying, honestly. My eyes are sore," he replied.

"Sometimes I think the two of us are not bad-ass enough for this Midnight War business," she said. "I mean, Jin is tough as a handful of nails. Jocelyn is hard when she needs to be. Even Sable can buckle down and face the worst atrocities without blinking. But you and I are honestly too sensitive."

"I've thought of that," admitted Timothy. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. "I love solving the mysteries and finding out about the secret worlds all around us. But there's too much fighting and having to use lethal force and having to see innocent victims. Like Emmy. Maybe I wasn't meant to be a Tel Shai knight." He stood up abruptly. "Hey, I know what to do. Give me one of those Slim Jims."

"Sure."

Taking the meat stick, he went over to kneel in front of Emily Giacoma. Her eyes did not follow him and he noticed that her pupils were clouding over. Taking her cold hand, he placed the snack in it. "Eat this. Chew it and swallow."

The Undead obeyed. As she demurely gulped down the meat, a tremor ran through her body. Emily took a deep shuddering breath and looked up right at Tim before she slumped to fall out of the chair. He did not react quickly enough to catch her.

With infinite tenderness, Timothy lifted the limp form and carried it over to stretch out on the bed. He clasped her hands together over her waist and was relieved that her eyes had closed. "Salt did it," he muttered. "That's what Watesa told us. When the Hungans used Zombies as labor on the old plantations, they had to keep salt away. Otherwise their victims were would actually die. She's completely gone now. To Heaven, if you believe in that."

"It was for the best," Haley said, getting up and standing next to him. "I passed a small local hospital on my way in here. We'll have to sneak her out in your car and leave her out in the hospital parking lot, then call 911 and report we saw a girl lying there. It sounds awful, but they'll bring her in and notify her family."

"Her poor parents. Emmy was their pride and joy." Timothy shook his head and went to get the heavy coat he had thrown in a corner. "I hate doing this. But I don't see any choice."

"Of course I'll help you. I'll get get some sheets from that dresser to wrap her in. Tim, this is the only option for us. At least her family will have closure. She'll have a proper burial and be treated with respect. It's the best we can do."

Timothy Limbo stood staring down at the body. "The most abominable things happen to the sweetest people. But you know, Haley, I don't care what Watesa or all the occult experts say. At that last moment, when the final trace of the spark left her body, I saw her look right at me. And I will always be certain that she remembered me."

2/21/2019

"The City Beneath the City"

8/17-8/19/2013

I.

Almost four AM in the rough neighborhood of Westfield on the edges of East LA. Josef Jubilec strode down a side street past an old bowling alley that had been boarded up years ago. He was a fit man two inches over six feet tall and dressed all in dark clothing... boots, pants, waist-length jacket. On his back was a knapsack longer than usual, and he held in his right hand a strange-looking device that looked like a wooden hoop. As he passed the single bulb burning over the door of the old bowling alley, Josef's long bony face with its short-cropped sandy hair could be clearly seen. He glanced around suspiciously and then kept walking.

A shiny black car slowed as it passed him. Not a glimpse of its occupants could be seen through the tinted windows, although the booming bass of the music was audible a block away. The car sped up again. Evidently, the people in the car saw nothing in Jubilec to interest them. As the car rounded the next corner, the Blind Archer smiled to himself. He had not seen a police cruiser in an hour, just cars full of drug dealers or cars with middle-aged men searching for hookers.

Josef paused at the corner. Across the street was a field through which a railroad track ran. There was a low wire fence that had been knocked down in several places. Josef saw a metal barrel surrounded by garbage, a sure sign that vagrants used it to burn scrap wood on chilly nights. He turned to look left and right, wondering if he should head back to the hotel and get some sleep before his team arrived later the next morning... well, this morning actually.

Then he spotted movement. Over by the railroad tracks, two dark figures were creeping through the gloom. One was short and squat, the other well over six feet tall and wearing a long coat of some sort. They were carrying bundles. The furtive movements and constant glancing in all directions would have seemed suspicious to any observer.

Watching them, determining that they had not noticed him standing next to the closed up building, the Blind Archer thumbed a button on the device he held, and the bow snapped open on its hinge by the grip. He disliked using a gimmicky folding bow such as this, being a purist who prefered a handcarved longbow, but when he was out in public he felt the folding bow was a little less conspicuous. He strung the bow and satisfied himself that it was ready.

Before he stepped out into the street, Josef reached behind his left shoulder and undid the top flap of his knapsack. The feathered ends of a dozen three-foot-long arrows were exposed. The knapsack was actually a quiver he had fashioned himself. He did not draw a shaft just yet, but crossed the street and began to follow the two sneaking figures by the tracks. As he approached, the smaller one caught sight of them and squawked in alarm. This close, Josef could make out that the smaller one was dressed in rags, including fingerless gloves and a wool hat pulled low on his head. He was carrying three plastic bags that were filled with some items.

Beside him, the tall figure swung around, his long coat swirling. Josef pegged him immediately as the real threat. Speeding up his pace, the Blind Archer called out, "Hold it, you two! I just want a few words."

The taller figure had longish black hair tied back in a ponytail. He clapped the other man on the shoulder and said in a deep bass voice, "Run, my friend. I will catch up to you."

"Yes, Imperatus! Hurry." As the smaller man took off at an awkward lope, the tall man suddenly raced directly at Josef with startling speed. He hurtled over the uneven ground faster than an Olympic sprinter. Alarmed at this unexpected twist, the Blind Archer reacted just as quickly. A shaft was notched and let fly in a flash. Josef had selected an arrow with a head of round hard rubber rather than one with a point. At the speed an arrow from his bow flew, those rounded heads struck with the force of a heavyweight boxer.

The arrow struck the onrushing man directly on the forehead and bounced off without any effect. Josef was startled and there was no time for a second shaft. The stranger called Imperatus was upon him in a rush, and one fist that felt like a block of iron crashed hard against the side of his face. The Blind Archer fell heavily onto his side, not entirely unconscious but dazed enough to be helpless. After a few minutes, his head cleared. Like other Tel Shai knights, decades on the tagra diet of Tel Shai had enhanced his body's healing beyond what medical science could explain. He leaped back onto his feet, not having let go of the bow even in his stunned condition, but both men were gone.

Josef searched the area for an hour but found nothing. It would be getting light soon. He walked briskly back the way he had come, folding his bow again and strapping it across the top of his knapsack. Entering a better neighborhood eventually, he found his rental car untouched where he had left it. He felt disappointed and sullen over the events. At least he would be able to get a few hours sleep before his team arrived from New York.

( the rest of the story )

FAMILY OF TURNERS II - Get Out Your Fangs and Claws

6/14-6/15/2013

I.

It was just getting dark outside. Albert Turner walked into his living room as if he were carrying a five-ton weight on his shoulders. He had stopped trying to hold his belly in, his shoulders were slumped and his face seemed to have aged twenty years since that morning. His glasses were folded in the pocket of his plaid shirt, making his face seem unfamiliar even to his family.

Sitting on the white leather couch in front of the gigantic projection TV, which none of them were watching, were the three surviving children of the Turner family. Parker was the oldest at nineteen, a studious girl with long straight black hair and black-rimmed eyeglasses almost identical to the ones her grandfather wore. Seated right up against her was Amelia, a year younger, slender where Parker was busty, wavy-haired and more made-up. She was wearing a short denim skirt and white short-sleeved blouse where Parker had on a loose purple sweatshirt and baggy jeans as usual.

Chauncey Turner was not on the couch itself, but sitting on the floor with his back against it, near his two cousins. He was chubby and unattractive with a buzz crewcut that just emphasized his round face. Only thirteen, but acting and speaking as he thought a middle-aged man would, he struck most people as pretentious. Right now, the open grief on his face struck his cousins hard and Amelia kept reaching down to rub his back.

"Kids..." began Albert, then had to stop to gather himself. "This is not going to be easy for any of us. We've managed to get Zane into the RV. Gil and Blair and I are going to drive to the Pennsylvania border to a spot where we camped once. There's no towns nearby. There, we will.. we will bury Zane and come back."

"Oh my God.." sniffled Parker, trying not to start crying again. "No services? No notice in the papers? It's like we're ashamed of Zane!"

Albert held up a hand to still her voice. "We live the way we have to, honey. If Normals learned about us, they'd hunt us down without mercy. We have no choice. Our totems reflect our personalities but they also influence us. Zane was like me. We're both apex predators and sometimes we just have to take prey or explode. Chauncey, you're the same way. As you get older, you'll need to hunt once in a while."

"I've been thinking," Chauncey said, raising his head for the first time. "School is out for the summer. We have no real friends among the Normals. Maybe one or two classmates will try to text Zane but that's it. No one needs to know that he's dead."

"We've tried to prepare for this," Albert answered. "Before September, we'll have to relocate. Gil and I have new identities ready to go for everyone, fake IDs and backgrounds that will stand up to most checks. I don't know.. maybe we'll move out West. Start over." He straightened up with an effort. "I'm going now. Gil and Blair and I will be back by early tomorrow morning. You kids stay put. Eat everything if you want, watch R-rated DVDs, it's okay."

"So long, grandpa," Amelia said, biting her lower lip. "I wish we could go with you. We want to help."

"I know you do, sweetheart." The grandfather turned and left the living room. A moment later, headlights could be seen moving past the windows toward the driveway.

Parker held up the remote and started going through channels absently. "Give them half an hour to make sure they won't come back for something."

( the rest of the story )

"Haley Gets Her Heart Broken"

5/28-5/20/2013

I.

"Jasper left with his friends twenty minutes ago."

Sitting on the waist-high stone retaining wall in front of Coolidge High, Haley Lawson gave a start. "Gina! Hi. I wasn't waiting for Jasper. I'm just thinking."

Almost a year younger than her BFF, Gina Giacomo was a petite girl, Italian on both sides with long wavy black hair to prove it. She dumped her bookbag unceremoniously on the sidewalk and hopped up on the wall to sit with her legs tucked under her. "Who are you kidding? You're one step away from standing outside his house at night hoping he'll walk past a window."

"No way. Come on, Gina, I like the guy but I dunno, he looks right through me. My vanity is stung, that's all." Five feet eight, Haley Lawson was six inches taller than her pal, long-legged and rangy compared to Gina's curves. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a ponytail that was getting too long to manage. Haley's best features were her large lime-green eyes and lately she had been trying to accent them with some liner. "You wouldn't know how it is. You're too hot for your own good. Every day, you have to shove the boys off so they don't bury you in a dogpile."

"Hah. So true. But Bentley and I have been serious for two years now. I wouldn't risk losing him for anything."

"Speaking of Bentley, where is he anyway?"

"Working at Price Chopper. Twenty hours a week now. Too bad he has to punch in right after school, but he gets off at seven and tonight we're going to watch a Slamface concert at my house."

Haley nodded gravely and fiddled with the knapsack next to her. "Less than a month until we graduate and we're outta here, Gina. I have mixed feelings. Everything's all set with the Kenneth Dred Foundation. On June 22nd, I take the Greyhound and move into headquarters on 38th Street."

Gina grinned so widely it seemed it must hurt. "And Windcatcher will save the world from all the monsters that come out in the middle of the night! Oh my God, you must be so excited."

"I guess. I mean, it seems a little unreal, ya know? I still can't understand why I'm not a world-famous celebrity. A girl who can literally fly and cause thunderstorms and tornados. But no one in Glenville seems impressed. As if it's no big deal. I don't get it."

"Me and Bentley were talking about it," Gina said. "We think it's kind of some side effect of your Air Gem. That thing is magic like nobody's business. We think maybe the stone dampens people's reaction to you. Otherwise, you'd be on the news alla time, giving interviews, being asked to the White House, getting called to help out with disasters."

"Beats me." Haley shifted her weight restlessly. She tugged at the calico-colored shirt which was clinging to her back. "Sure is hot today. How about I summon a tornado and we fly out to Lake Schoonmaker?"

"You figure Jasper will be there drinking beer and smoking weed with his friends, right?"

Haley tried to keep a straight face but couldn't repress a grin any longer. "Coullllld be. Anyway we can get some footlongs and soda at the stand there. What do you say?"

"You got it bad, girl." Gina bumped her shoulder up against her friend and Haley bumped her right back. "He's gonna be your second partner, right?"

"Ah, that thing with Beckert was mostly out of curiosity. I didn't like it all that much." Haley hopped to her feet and stretched, then started trying to shrug into her knapsack, Gina giving her a hand. "This thing weighs a TON," she complained. "All my textbooks and my Ipad and charger and my phone's charger and some Tylenol and my art supplies, not to mention my Windcatcher outfit. I'm folding up my cape to fit in there, it still takes up a lot of space."

"The hard life of Long Island's resident super-hero," Gina scoffed, making sure her own bookbag was strapped securely. "Do you have enough for curly fries? I'm busted."

"That's what all the boys say! You're busted, har har."

"Extremely hilarious, Hales. Okay. I'm all set."

Haley held out her arm and Gina took it, also wrapping a thin arm around her friend's waist. "This is not the gay, I just don't wanna get dropped on my head."

"That only happened ONCE and you were fine." Concentrating and visualizing, Haley sensed a full tornado out in Oklahoma. She drew some of those two hundred mile per hour winds through a gralic gate. With a rush and a roar, Windcatcher and Gina were flung upward and out of sight almost instantly.

Speech was impossible within the vortex of furiously whirling air. How the two of them were able to breathe at all during the flight was another mystery. It was sixteen miles from midtown Glenville to the shores of Lake Schoonmaker and Haley was not using her top speed to keep Gina from distress.

But within a few minutes, the winds lessened and they descended at a good clip. Both knew how to drop their legs and bend their knees before landing, but this time they touched down as lightly as if hopping down off a kitchen chair.

"You are getting much better at that," Gina said with relief. "When you first started, I saw you take some awful spills."

"Tell me about it. Practice all day every day, that's the trick." Windcatcher pointed at the crowd of twenty people who were lazing about the lake, including those who were gathered at the trailer which sold hot dogs and hamburgers, bottles of soda and bags of chips. "I mean, what the hell? We come sailing down out of the sky! It's astonishing! Only everyone looks up and then goes back to what they were doing."

"Wish I'd tied back my hair," was Gina's only response as she began working on the hopeless tangle of her hair with a brush. "Hmm. Smell them burgers on the grill."

"See, you're doing it too!"

"Let's wrap ourselves around some chow, Hales," Gina urged, tugging Windcatcher by one arm. The town had provided a few wooden picnic tables with benches and the two girls plopped down with paper plates laden by double cheeseburgers, large curly fries and one bag of spicy Doritos. Each had a can of soda, root beer for Haley and Diet Pepsi for Gina. They dug in with a complete lack of self-consciousness.

"Oh, that's better. I spent lunch period in the hall on my phone," Gina sighed. "I swear there was an echo in my stomach."

"Yeah, I didn't exactly mind this," agreed Haley. "That mac and cheese in the cafeteria is old enough to walk by itself."

Changing to a sing-song voice, Gina crooned, "Somebody is watching you, Haley Jean..."

Windcatcher swung her head so fast that her ponytail almost knocked over her soda can. "Oh. Is he coming over here? How do I look? Are my bangs straight?"

"Jeez, Hales, what do you think you could do if they weren't straight? Hi, Jasper. Howya doing?"

Sauntering up to them was the tallest senior in the school, gawky with the long torso and limbs of late adolescence. Jasper Brink was wearing his usual tight jeans, baggy green T-shirt and an open white button-front shirt over that with the tail hanging free. That haircut, shaved on the sides but teased on top, annoyed Gina as unbearably pretentious but one glance at her friend showed that Haley liked it fine.

For Windcatcher, the rest of the world faded into foggy irrelevance. All that mattered right then was being approached by this boy, with his cocky smile and complete confidence. "Hey there," she managed to say.

"Hi, girls. Haley, good thing you turned up here."

Unaware of the smitten expression on her face, she said, "It is?"

"Yeah. My squad found something weird in the woods. Nobody knows what to do, we figured you might want to take a look. Ever see a Bigfoot skeleton?"

( the rest of the story )

"The Four Adaptites"

7/29-7/30/2013

I.

At ten after five, Bane decided it had been a wasted day. More and more, he felt like only taking cases by appointment and spending more time traveling. The days of the big masterminds like John Grim or Wu Lung seemed to be over, and the new KDF had been doing fine handling what Midnight War events did come up. The only hint of any action that day had been a man coming in to ask if he could have his daughter trailed to see where she was buying drugs and Bane had explained that, sorry, the Dire Wolf Agency was mostly concerned with gruesome murders.

Standing up and stretching, he decided he would pick a city he had never been to before and spend a few days looking around. Kenneth Dred had left him millions in his will, and Bane had personally lived simply all his life. Now that he was in his late fifties, maybe it was time to retire. Or semi-retire. As he thought that, the office phone rang on his desk and he smiled slightly. He recognized the number on the little screen. "Hello, Bleak," he said.

"Listen," came the familiar sour voice. "Get out of there. You don't have any time."

"What? Why?"

"The cops are on their way to arrest you. I was tipped that you shot a little kid behind Bryant Park a few minutes ago. Run now. I'll explain later."

"Got it," Bane said and hung up. ( the rest of the story )

"The Teen Tyrants"

11/1-11/5/2012

I.

Four o'clock in the morning. In a furnished basement complete with a huge flatscreen TV and professional quality sound system, three fifteen-year-olds set up their chairs behind a polished mahogany table that had been upstairs in the dining room. According to Bossy Girl, they had at least two months before the family who owned this house would be back from their South American cruise and the three Tyrants could trash the place if they liked.

The one called Bossy Girl took a seat between the two boys. She was a strawberry blonde with a good trim figure and an oval face that was basically pretty despite some acne. The purple sweater and purple jeans she wore clashed horribly with her coloring. Maybe this was deliberate. She gave her two partners impatient stares as they took their time getting settled.

To her left, Friction Boy tilted his head back as far as it would go to get the last drop from the can of Death Sentence Energy Drink. He was a tall gangly kid whose arms and legs seemed too long for his body. Lank black hair hung down over his face and swung over his neck. Friction Boy was also in a monochrome outfit, a bright red long-sleeved shirt and red sweatpants. He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand and enjoyed a belch.

"That stuff will kill you and I'm not kidding," Bossy Girl told him. "Someday your heart will just blow up inside your chest."

"Who cares?" he said. "It's my heart and my life."

On the other side of the girl, the second boy laughed. Halo Boy had a square good-looking face under a buzzcut so short he might as well have shaved his head and gotten it over with. He was wearing a black pullover with white collar and cuffs, but wore white pants that had vertical black stripes and the effect was slightly confusing. "There's worse stuff you could be drinking," he said. "Like what your old man finishes off every night-"

"I told you to shut up about my dad!"

"Both of you, stop talking," Bossy Girl barked in a voice that had a strange echoing quality to it. They obeyed instantly but fixed resentful glares at her. "That's better," she said. "Let's get real here. We have three applicants tonight, I bet Rubber-Arms will be showing them down here any minute. Let's impress them."

"Hah!" snorted Friction Boy, tossing the empty can under their table. "If they know enough about us to wanna join, they must already have a healthy respect for the Tyrants."

"True that," Halo Boy agreed. "Even the cops have learned to leave the Teen Tyrants alone. We've got this miserable little town under our thumbs."

Raising one hand in a typically imperious gesture, Bossy Girl said, "Has either of you heard any theories about why so many kids are developing weird powers? Doesn't it seem... ominous?"

"Nothing on the news. I checked Whazzup.com for the local chat and there's nothing," said Friction Boy.

"It sure worries me," Halo Boy admitted. "People seem afraid to even talk about it. In the past year, there must have been twenty high school kids suddenly being able to change their eye color or to turn TVs on and off by looking at them. But no one is willing to say anything."

"Maybe they're right to be afraid," said Bossy Girl. She looked back and forth at her two partners. "Look at the three of us. Since last winter, we have been able to rob Sedgewick blind and the cops act like nothing is happening. What's going on?"

She paused as the door at the top of the wooden stairs opened. A boy their age stuck his head in and said, "They're here." He was wearing a white T-shirt with the logo SCARABS FINAL WORLD TOUR on the front.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Bossy Girl snapped. "Come on, let's go."

Led by Rubber-Arms, two more girls and a boy came down the stairs hesitantly. They seemed a few years older than the three already seated at the table, maybe seventeen or eighteen.

"Welcome to the Teen Tyrants auditions," Bossy Girl announced as if speaking to an audience of thousands. "Let's get this over with. You, the Oriental chick, what's your ability?"

"Uhhh, hi," said a tiny Asian girl barely five feet tall. She was bundled in a down-filled parket and ski pants. In one hand, she held up a gallon jug of bleach. "I call myself Iron Stomach."

"Yeah? I've eaten Chinese take-out," scoffed Halo Boy. "I think we all qualify for that name!"

Ignorning the chuckles from the Tyrants, the girl unscrewed the cap on the white plastic jug and showed them the unbroken aluminum seal. "See? Untouched. Pure bleach." She peeled off the foil, raised the jug to her mouth and took several long gulps.

Next to her, a taller girl with auburn hair and green eyes sniffed audibly. "Whew. That's bleach all right."

Lowering the container, Iron Stomach licked her lips. "See? Not hurt in the least. I can eat rat poison or drink kerosene and it doesn't bother me. That's my power."

Bossy Girl slapped her palm down on the table so hard everyone jumped. "REJECTED!" she shouted. "Why are you wasting our time with a power so useless? Rubber-Arms, get this loser out of here."

The Asian girl's face screwed up as she fought not to cry. "But I-- I thought--" The boy in the white T-shirt placed a hand on her back and steered her toward the stairs.

The next candidate was a black kid bundled in a maroon hoodie and baggy pants, with his face shadowed in the cowl. He was an inch or two over six feet tall but with a noticeable paunch. "I guess I'm up to the plate, then. Call me Street Skunk. You see, I developed these glands a little while ago and when I feel threatened or angry..."

"Rejected, rejected!" Bossy Girl yelled. Her voice developed that far-off echoing quality again. "Do not use your power. Leave this building and never return."

As the applicant meekly obeyed, Halo Boy exhaled and covered his face with both hands. "Jeez. Your power sure came in useful, Beth."

"Use our code names, Halo Boy," she retorted. "Don't slip up again. Okay, girlie, you're up next. Name and ability?"

The final candidate grinned and stepped up to the table. She was tall at five feet eight, showing off toned legs in snug white shorts and with a long-sleeved blue pullover. Aside from the rich chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail, her most striking feature was a pair of bright lime-green eyes. "I call myself Celsius Chick," she said confidently. "Here's a quick demonstration."

The teen pressed her open palms in front of her and bowed her head as if in prayer. Instantly, the air in that basement swirled violently as the temperature dropped below freezing. Frost formed from the moisture on the table and walls, and the Teen Tyrants saw their own breath hang as vapor in front of their faces.

"Wow!" said Friction Boy. "That's awesome. I'm shivering."

"Not bad," Bossy Girl admitted. "I see your ability could be useful in robberies."

"Wait, wait," Celsius Chick held up a hand. "That's only half of it." Again, wind rushed through the room and the air temperature shot up within seconds to be unbearably hot and muggy. The sudden change in extremes left the Tyrants breathless.

"Awright, awright already," said Halo Boy. He was wiping a sweat-covered face with the back of his hand. "We get it. Knock it off."

The basement returned to its normal warm dry levels. Standing with arms folded across her chest, Celsius Chick smirked at the three teens lined up in front of her. "I can actually make things much hotter or colder, enough to be fatal. If necessary..."

The Tyrants looked back and forth between themselves, nodding and reaching an agreement. "You certainly seem qualified for membership," Bossy Girl said. "We do have to get to know you better. You'll have to stay here for a day or two and go with us on a looting expedition. You down with that?"

"Oh, absolutely," answered Haley Lawson. The Windcatcher lowered her arms and placed her fists on her narrow hips, still smiling with relief. She had never worked undercover before.

( the rest of the story )

"Slaves To Their Own Skill"

5/3/2015

I.

Demrak Jin hurtled up out of the Atlantic, breaking surface as if she had been shot by a catapult. The young Gelydra cleared the rounded boulders which ringed Hawk Island and landed lightly in a crouch on her toes and fingertips. She was wearing the tunic and pants of rough grey sharkhide which fit tightly on her thin body, and the bone-bladed knife was sheathed across her shoulders. In one hand, Jin held a short trident. On its three barbed tines was impaled a twelve-pound salmon.

She grinned at the thought that she would be able to eat this fish raw as it should be eaten. If any her teammates had been here, their stubborn insistence on cooking food would detract from the flavor. The truth was, like many of her Gelydrim countrymen, she really preferred eating her catches while the creatures were still alive. But this was a habit she knew they would not understand.

At three inches over five feet tall, Demrak Jin looked thin and almost frail but that was deceptive. Like all her Race, her muscles were denser and stronger than Human, adapted for life at crushing water pressure. She had the stiff bristly white hair, cut short, common to inhabitants of Ulgor and her wide flat face with its pug nose and cloudy blue eyes was always sullen. Even when she was relaxed and satisfied, her expression remained angry. Haley had once said that Jin had a bad case of 'Resting Bitch Face,' which was accurate enough but which Jin had not appreciated.

Holding the spear so she could examine the still gasping salmon closely, the Gelydra woman stiffened. She had noticed something out of place. Fifty yards down the rocky shore sat a wooden boathouse that stored equipment and two small speedboats. Jeremy Bane had constructed that structure and ordered the boats so that KDF members would have a way off Hawk Island if anything happened to the CORBY helicopters. He always wanted to have back-ups for every contingency. But the boat which was tied up to a metal ring set alongside the boathouse was not one of theirs. It was a thirty-two footer Renegade, white with Kelly green trim and the name LOUISA written in cursive in the bow.

Jin scowled and bent to place the spear with its catch on a flat rock. She did not know any surface person named Louisa, she was sure of that much. Drawing the sword with its bone blade and ivory handle she had crafted herself, the Ulgoran strode grimly toward the boathouse. Just over a mile to her right was the Hawk Island complex. The main building was one story high, made of stone blocks painted white, with a wing on each end. The wing on the left held five rooms that visiting members could use as personal quarters on a first-come, first-served basis. The main building held the captain's office, a command center, a medical ward and a recreation room. The wing opposite the private rooms held training facilities... basically a gym and obstacle course.

Just beyond the complex was the hangar with its wide segmented steel doors. Here one of the three CORBY stealthcopters was stored, while another was kept at the KDF headquarters in New York City and the third was at the HCE Project in New Mexico where Stephen Weaver did maintenance and upgrades on them. The copters were rotated on a regular basis. Demrak Jin glared back over her shoulder, but the hangar door was down and there was no sign of a second CORBY. She became convinced that it was not one of her teammates who had come to the island in that speedboat.

As she trotted silently toward the boathouse, barefoot on the rocky ground but not noticing the sharp edges under her toughened soles, the Gelydra adjusted her grip on her weapon and readied herself to tackle any possible adversary. From around the side of the structure, looming up six inches over six feet in height, came a bearded man in plain white slacks and white polo shirt with deck shoes and a billed cap. He was an impressive example of highly developed muscle, with a V-shaped wedge of a torso above a narrow waist. The big Melgar grinned, showing a flash of white teeth through a thick short beard. Like his curly brown hair, the beard had flecks of grey scattered through it.

"Galvan?!" she gasped, almost dropping her weapon. "How dare you show up here on Hawk Island?"

"I have come to see you," the big Melgar said in an uncharacteristally subdued voice.

Jin reached up behind herself to sheath her sword. "Me? No. I certainly don't want to talk to you. We need not ever meet again. Go away."

"Now, now, don't be like that. I rented that boat in Southport to come here. These are treacherous waters indeed. If I had not already known about the reefs and sharp submerged rocks around this island, I doubt if I would have made it here."

Folding her arms across her narrow chest, Demrak Jin fixed her most ferocious scowl on her face. "I think you have done enough harm to me, son of Androval. Better a broken leg than a broken heart, as the old lore has it."

Stepping closer, towering by more than a foot over the diminuitive Gelydra, Galvan removed his cap and held it humbly in front of him. "I have been thinking about you, Jin. Often. I can picture your face and hear your voice in my daydreams. To be honest, this is new to me. I do not know what these feelings are."

"Oh, please. You are a hundred and forty years old. I am sure you have bedded more women than would fit on this island. You received what you sought from me, now move on as you said you intended."

"I was wrong," Galvan said simply. He lowered himself to sit on a flat rock so that their faces were on a level. "Jin, I did not know what this feeling was until it came to me. I am surprised by the joy. Even if you will not be with me, I have to tell you this."

"Are you serious? You ARE serious." The small white-haired Gelydra visibly softened, her shoulders lowering and her fists relaxing into open hands. "But me? Of all people, you are saying you have feelings for me?"

"That is the truth of it," the Melgar said. He clasped his big rough-skinned hands in front of him and gazed down at them. "I'm miserable, Jin. I had to see you again. But now that I am here, I do not know what to say."

She did not answer for a long tense moment, then came over to sit next to him. "Galvan, I was hurt when you said you were leaving. It still is a cold pang in my heart. But I think I can rise above that and move on. My anger should be a servant and not a master."

Galvan seemed as if he wanted to touch her, perhaps embrace, but he was restrained in a way she had never seen in him before. "At least, we should still work together," he said. "The comradeship you have with your team of Tel Shai knights is a rare thing."

"Oh, I have come to realize that," Demrak Jin told him. Suddenly she untensed. "I realize now that they put up with my moods and temper and lack of manners as few Humans would. I have even mentioned this to them."

"I'm glad I came to see you. Truth be told, Jin, I was more afraid of coming to see you than I have ever been facing Trolls or Darthim." He broke off as they both saw the black helicopter approach from the south.

It was one of the CORBYs, so well silenced that it made no more noise than a gust of wind would. Showing no external lights, bearing no identifying logos or numbers, the Trom-built craft swiftly lowered fifty yards away from them. As the landing gear swung into position and the rotors slowed, they could spot Haley Lawson in the pilot seat, giving them a cheerful salute. The front left hatch hissed open as pressurized air was released. A powerful figure in blue and white jumped out.

Galvan stood up. "Sulak!"

( the rest of the story )

"The Space Between Spaces"

11/2/2014

I.

Haley's landings were improving. She and Timothy swooped down rapidly from the chill sky over northern Vermont, propelled by shrieking winds she had siphoned from a tornado a thousand miles away. They slowed to alight at the bottom of a rocky hillside. Neither stumbled. As the last of the winds faded, Haley Lawson threw back her heavy blue cloak and grinned in unbearably smug triumph. Not quite twenty, she had long chestnut-brown hair over a round face but her best feature was a gorgeous pair of bright green eyes. Today, she wore her Windcatcher costume of long-sleeved white pullover, snug blue trunks that left her legs bare and plain canvas sneakers with white ankle socks. Haley often felt tempted to add a super-hero emblem to the front of her shirt, a big blue W or a stylized tornado or something similar but so far had restrained herself.

Getting his footing next to her, Timothy Limbo tugged down his leather jacket and straightened its sleeves. "That wasn't half bad," he told her. "I could actually breathe the whole time." At five foot ten, he was only slightly taller than his teammate and only a few years older. Timothy's mop of butter-yellow hair hung down almost in his eyes. The biker boots, worn-out blue jeans and plain white T-shirt under the jacket were as much as his trademark outfit as was her more flamboyant clothing.

It wouldn't show to any observer, but these KDF members were wearing the silk-thin Trom armor under their clothes and both carried a dozen tiny weapons and gadgets. Timothy's gear was stowed in various pockets, while Haley wore a narrow leather belt with pouches. Even when not in the command-style field suits, they both were ready for the Midnight War to break out at any time. Haley's ability to summon air from anywhere on Earth and Timothy's small 'friendly ghost' observers were always ready to be used as well.

"Tim, just look at that place!" Haley said. "How could anyone live in a disaster like that?" She pointed to a huge gleaming dome located halfway up the slope. Constructed in a single unbroken piece, it was a semi-translucent blue, big enough to hold a regular two-story house. Enclosed walUngwerys from the dome connected a few smaller, more conventional storehouses and even a mundane bungalow with a chimney. The main structures seemed to be made of burnished aluminum and white enamel, shining bright and new in the fading sunlight. No one was in sight.

"It's wild, all right," he agreed. "But I read up on Dr Sinclair back at headquarters. He's supposed to be a record level genius with PhDs in a half dozen fields... applied biochemistry, mechanical engineering, linguistics, quantum physics and, uh, xenobiology. A few more I can't remember or pronounce in any case. I guess to him this place looks normal."

Haley snapped her fingers in a dismissive gesture. "If he's so smart, why doesn't he have a Nobel prize or two? Hah? I never heard of him."

"From what I remember, Sinclair argues and feuds with every scientist he meets. He's also been accused of swiping research and being a real jerk in general. That's why Sable was surprised to hear from him. He called our headquarters and asked for a few of us to come listen to a big announcement of some kind. Sable sent us ahead since she and Sheng had a meeting with the NYPD before they could leave. They're probably on their way now. In a real emergency, they can get the CORBY here in a minute."

"Humph. I suppose," she grumbled. "This place still looks goofy as hell to me. Do you see any kind of path up to that so-called house?"

"Not really. Funny, we didn't see any roads from the air, not even a trail for a dirtbike..." He froze in surprise as a device the size of a laptop buzzed through the air and hovered in front of them. It resembled a drone, but instead of fans at the four corners, brilliant blue-white bulbs blazed bright enough to be painful if stared at directly. A screen swung up which showed a vivid image of an old man's face.

"Welcome," came a voice as full and natural as if the person were standing right there with them. "Representatives of the Kenneth Dred Foundation, I take it? Please follow this messenger for a few feet."

"Well... okay," Haley said without enthusiasm. They walked behind the drone to where a panel of grass-covered material moved aside and revealed an escalator. They grinned at each other as they stepped aboard and were smoothly lifted up the hill to where a door slid open in the side of the dome for them.

Stepping inside, the two KDK members entered a confusing array of gleaming chrome and white tile, hundreds of mechanisms hooked up to each other in labyrinthine swerving connections. Various red and yellow lights blinked in complex patterns, gauges and digital readouts added to the visual overkill, and the floor beneath them hummed and vibrated as if some immensely powerful engine was running. It was impossible to take it all in at once. Haley and Timothy stood where they were, not daring to move for fear of bumping into something dangerous or fragile.

"Take a few minutes to adjust," said the voice from nearby. "I realize my workspace is a bit overwhelming if you're not used to it."

"No kidding," Haley said. "It's like trick photography or something. Dr Sinclair? Is that you?"

"Here I am." A bizarre figure moved around a counter toward them. Not more than five feet high, slightly built to the point of seeming fragile, he was an extremely old man wearing a breastplate, gauntlets and greaves of dark green plastic. From within the open visor of a green ovoid helmet peered a face as wrinkled as an apple dried in the sun. Yet he moved with confidence and precision. "Herbert Lewis Sinclair, at your service."

"Hi," Timothy returned. "Glad to meet you. Uhh, Dr Sinclair, I don't know if you're aware of what the KDF does? We mostly investigate and debunk sightings of the paranormal. I'm not sure your work really applies to us at all."

"All will be explained. Do not worry about staring like yokels, it doesn't trouble me. I am well over a hundred and twenty years old, children. I bear a synthetic heart of my own design. My nervous system has been enhanced by experimental proteins I developed. And I am facing you within the most sophisticated powered exoskeleton ever constructed. Despite my unimposing appearance, I can perform Olympic level feats."

Haley let a nervous laugh escape her. "Heh. How wonderful, but you know, Dr Sinclair, we don't have much time..."

"Forget that name!" snapped the old man in the gleaming armor. "For nine decades I have been known and feared as Cogitus. I know all about you, the famous knights of Tel Shai, agents of the Kenneth Dred Foundation. You dip your toes into the merest edge of the Unknown and think you are brave. Today you will confront that Unknown more directly and fearfully than you ever feared." He raised a gauntleted fist. "You will experience the spaces between spaces!"

( :the )

"Slavers of the Secret World"

10/19-10/21/2012

I.

Three teenagers swooped down out of the deep blue sky near the brick structure of VILLAGE PIZZA with the roar of a tornado. Haley was getting better at controlling the winds she summoned, lessening the two hundred mile per hour force down to a mild breeze as they neared the parking lot, but the trio still hit the paving hard enough that they stumbled and Gina fell flat on her face. At once, Bentley was helping her up and making sure she hadn't been hurt.

Haley Lawson twirled the heavy blue cloak with a dramatic gesture and flung it back over her shoulders. At five feet eight, she was the tallest of the three and the oldest, having passed her eighteenth birthday a week earlier. She had on her Windcatcher outfit, the white sneakers, snug blue shorts and long-sleeved white crewneck shirt as well as the blue cloak which fastened around her neck with a clasp. With her chestnut hair and huge pale green eyes, Haley was cute rather than gorgeous and she was satisfied with that. As soon as she got her footing, the Windcatcher hurried over to check her two friends.

"Sorry about the landing," she said blithely, "It's the trickiest part."

"Whoo. Ohmigawd," Gina gasped. "My legs are wobbly. Gimme a second."

Bentley was a skinny youth in a black T-shirt that read JACKSON STRONG WORLD TOUR on the front and had a list of concert dates on the back. Tight blue jeans and clunky work boots completed his outfit. That summer, he had been cultivating a mustache but so far had only bristles to show for it. The tenderness in the way he helped Gina stand up was a bit overdone but then they were still at the infatuation stage. "Yeah. That... that was not what I was expecting."

Haley's grin faltered. "You guys didn't like it? I showed you Glenville from the air at a hundred feet. I thought you'd have a blast."

"Yeah. Yeah." Gina Giacomo went over to lean back against someone's beat-up old pickup truck. "I dunno, it was fun but a bit TOO exciting, ya know? My heart feels it's going a thousand beats a minute." Not much over five feet tall, Gina had glossy black hair down past her shoulder blades and a curvy little figure that was the envy of most girls in the senior class. She was wearing a matching outfit to Bentley's, since they were both fans of the Jackson Strong band. "I need a minute to catch my breath."

"You guys aren't cut out to be super-heroes," Haley muttered but she joined them in leaning against the truck. Fastened to the clasp at her throat was a beautiful oval stone of a deep blue with paler streaks running its surface. She pressed a finger to it thoughtfully."Although, maybe I'm more comfortable with the Air Gem because I'm used to it. I'm sorry, Gina, I expected you to love the ride."

Bentley had an arm around Gina's shoulders, and she snuggled against him. "I was thinking, Haley, maybe the magic in your stone protects you somehow. You have no trouble breathing up there but I felt like I was caught in a storm and couldn't handle it.'

"It could be," Windcatcher admitted. She unsnapped the clasp of her cloak, leaving the gem fastened to her shirt collar, and rolled the thick material into a cylinder which she tucked under one arm. "I'll ask Mom. She owned the Air Gem back in her day, maybe she can explain some more."

The three of them went into VILLAGE PIZZA, pondered their order as if it was the most portentous decision of the ages and emerged with three meatball subs on paper plates and a 64-ounce bottle of Pepsi with some red plastic cups. They settled down around the cast iron table with its glass top and dug into the food with a vengeance.

"Slow down, Gina," Haley laughed at one point. "You look like a chipmunk with your cheeks full that way."

Bentley chugged a glass of soda and punched himself in the chest to release an epic belch. "You know what's the weirdest thing about your whole Windcatcher game, Haley?"

"What?"

"Everyone is so blase about it. I can't figure it. You fly around town in plain sight, you put out that garage fire on Vandermark Street by pouring rain on it and you rescued that old man who was drowning in Coogan Lake at the Fourth of July festival. But everyone takes it for granted."

"You know, I've been wondering about that," she admitted. "I was expecting to be more of a sensation, you know?"

Gina finally finished chewing and swallowed before adding, "Honestly, you should be in all the papers. TV news crews should be following you around. I expected SIXTY MINUTES to do a big interview with you. But nothing. Nada, zilch, bupkis."

"Bupkis?! Where did a nice Italian girl like you hear that word?" Haley said. "But you two are right. Not that I'm looking to be a world famous celebrity, well, actually I am. But instead the world ignores me. It's hard to figure."

"Hey, someone stole my sub!" Bentley yelled in mock indignation. "It was here a second ago."

"Right now, it's on its way to your lower intestine," said Gina, rubbing his back. She wiped her pouty little mouth with a napkin and gazed over at Haley Lawson. "I bet it's some side effect of your jewel, Hales. You said it's unimaginably old and powerful. I have a hunch that the stone is someone keeping everyone from freaking out over you."

"Could be." Picking up the last bit of crust, Haley was frowning at the thought. A few months earlier, she had met her mother's old friend Jeremy Bane, who had spent an evening explaining the Midnight War to her. Along with his somber warnings and unsolicited advice, he had told her the history of the Air Gem she possessed... how it was one of four talismans created thousands of years earlier by someone called Malberon, how her mother and the rest of the family had been known as the Heirs of Buliwyf years before Haley had been born. Not much of the lecture made sense to her.

"I guess there's some deep dark mystery to my gem," she said at last.

Bentley was gathering up the grease-stained paper plates and crumpled napkins. "I'll get rid of this stuff and we can head over to the Green. The rest of the squad is probably there. Scott's showing off his guitar and everyone will want to fool with it."

"You guys go ahead," Haley said as she got up and tucked the rolled-up cloak under one arm. "I think I'll head home for a while."

Leaning over, Gina ruffled Haley's dark reddish hair. "Aw. Thanks for the ride! We'll try it again a few times and get used to it. Send me a text if you wanna come over tonight. We do have Netflix, you know. Bentley and I will be fully dressed."

"Yeah, right, with your shirts on inside out and buttoned up wrong. Thanks, I'll be checking in later." Haley smiled as she watched her two friends hustle across the parking lot. It was Friday afternoon. She had no way to know that was the last anyone in town would see of them.

( the rest of the story )

RESURRECTION EMPIRE III - Life In the Morgue

(2/21/2015)

I.

The explosion that destroyed the foyer happened just after noon.

Jocelyn Garimara had been alone in the office, just sitting on the couch and mulling over recent developments. Some of the team were catching up on sleep, some were in the conference room on the second floor discussing the campaign against the Resurrector's zombie empire, but she had felt the need to get away for a few minutes. It annoyed her more than she expected to find that Galvan and Demrak Jin were sleeping together. She didn't feel hurt, exactly... there had been nothing between her and Galvan but two sexual experiences which had certainly been fun but which had contained no emotional content. She did feel unreasonably irritated that he and Jin were so blatant about their liaison, perhaps. It seemed crass.

Standing up, she began to pace. At just thirty, Jocelyn was a thin woman not much over five feet tall. She had the rich dark skin of her tribe, the thick straight hair and distinctive Aborigine facial bone structure, but she had lost her accent over a lifetime of travel. To be honest, she felt as alienated from her own people as she felt ill at ease here in Manhattan living with Americans. Ever since the Red Spectre had manifested from her body at puberty, Jocelyn had not felt she belonged anywhere. At least here she had purpose.

The front doorbell rang, which gave her a start. Then she smiled at her jumpiness. Jocelyn strode quickly out of the office and across the hall to the inner front door. There was a wooden panel set in the wall at face height, which she slid open to reveal a monitor screen and bank of controls. Pressing the button for the outside speaker, she said in as pleasant a voice as she could muster, "Just a minute, I'll be right with you." As she spoke, the monitor lit up to reveal what the outside camera showed.

A spare, almost frail blond man in his mid-seventies was leaning on a cane. He held a briefcase in one hand and was peering up at the camera lens in a distracted way. Jocelyn had only met Bleak once before, and then only for a few minutes, but she recognized him immediately. A major fighter in the Midnight War himself a generation earlier, he had long been the most reliable source of information on new menaces and developments that the KDF had. Bleak seemed to have contacts everywhere from offices in City Hall to the most secretive mystic cults in the metropolitan area.

"Hi, Bleak," she said and unlocked the outer door to admit him into the foyer while security checked him out. That area was just big enough for two or three people to stand in at the same time, and it had contained just a bench, a shelf with a lamp, and an oil portrait of Kenneth Dred on the wall for decades now.

As the advanced Trom sensors analyzed Bleak more thoroughly than the best MRI would, Jocelyn frowned. He seemed so listless, so disinterested. Odd that he hadn't spoken. Maybe it was just advancing years. Then she glanced over at the green readout figures on the monitor screen. Positive ID for Henry Wilson Cross AKA 'Bleak,' seventy-four years old, five feet nine, one hundred and sixty pounds. Body temperature fifty-three Fahrenheit, heartbeat four per minute, respiration six breaths per minute, blood pressure no reading...

Jocelyn punched the red alert button on the control panel and a klaxon sounded throughout the building. Through the PA system, she began, "Sable! Get down here-" but that was as far as she got before the blast knocked her down.

The next few minutes were a dazed blur. Someone was helping her up. Acrid stinging smoke in the air was being rapidly cleared out by the purifiers. Jocelyn got up on her feet, bracing herself and feeling her head ring. The inner door bulged in the center but it had held. Some of the mahogany paneling had come off the walls facing the foyer to reveal steel plates beneath.

Sable was suddenly in front of her, peering anxiously into her eyes. "Jocelyn, can you hear me? Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?"

"Oh.. no, captain. I think I'm all right. More surprised than anything else."

"Your heartbeat is solid. Pulse elevated, but that's to be expected." Sable was using her enhanced perception for diagnosis. "Close one eye for a few seconds. Now open it, good. Your pupils are reacting normally."

"I don't feel harmed at all, captain," the Australian woman interrupted. "Listen! That was Bleak out there. You know, Bleak.. Jeremy's friend, our investigator. And he was a zombie."

"Really. Bleak? Oh, this is bad." Sable spoke over Jocelyn's shoulder. "Josef, go out the back and circle around. The police and probably an ambulance will be out there in a few minutes. Don't volunteer information except the obvious that someone set off a bomb in our lobby."

"I'm on it," answered the Blind Archer.

Jocelyn felt someone turning her. Unicorn had brought a chair from the office and was gently urging her to sit. Suddenly aware that her knees were in fact a bit wobbly, she complied. Unicorn was a pretty platinum-blonde the same height and build as Jocelyn, and she had sometimes joked that the two of them looked like a yin-yang symbol when they stood together.

"Thanks, Ashley," she said, taking a deep slow breath to calm down. "Sable, I suppose it's obvious that this is the Resurrector striking back at us? We took down some of his operations, that fast house in Corona and the undead farm in Pennsylvania. So he killed Bleak and immediately.. well, revived him and sent him here."

"Yes. That's clear." Lauren Sable Reilly finally seemed satisfied that Jocelyn was not in immediate danger and stepped back. She was a few years older than the other teammates, very serious and disciplined at the best of times and now her demeanour seemed more intense than ever. "I don't think he expected to kill any of us. This was a warning."

"Some warning," Ashley Whitaker muttered. She was standing behind Jocelyn with a reassuring hand on each of the seated woman's shoulders. "Someone has to call Jeremy about Bleak," the Unicorn added. "Not that I want to do it. It's gonna be tough. They knew each other for ages. This is going to hurt Jeremy really bad."

"To be honest," Sable replied, "I have not been able to reach him. He hasn't been at the Dire Wolf agency for a week, and he's not at his apartment on 44th Street. Knowing Jeremy Bane, he could be anywhere in the world or in any of the adjacent realms."

"You'd think he'd let us know where he is, just in case," Unicorn grumbled.

"Well, we're not going to get anything done today against the enemy. The CSI team will be taking the lobby apart." Sable made a disgusted noise and turned to look at the ruined wall behind her. "Poor Bleak. We'll be answering questions about him all day and I know he would have hated that."

( the rest of the story )

RESURRECTION EMPIRE II: Pimping Out Zombies In Corona

2/19-2/20/2015

I.

Josef Jubilec found a parking spot and eased the Toyota Matrix into it before anyone else could claim the opening. The Blind Archer was wearing black slacks and suit jacket, with a white dress shirt but no tie. Even his leather shoes were highly polished. Tall and fit-looking, with short sandy hair over a freshly shaven if weathered face, he seemed to be a perfect example of an office-dwelling executive. Behind the wheel, he glared over at the two-story building they had come to find. It was old, the bricks were chipped and stained, the sidewalk in front of it was cracked and had a few strands of weed starting to grow up through the openings. Most of the windows were lit and curtains drawn.

Seated next to him, Haley shook her head. She herself was wearing a KDF field suit, complete with the waist-length jacket that had its own inner layer of armor. "It's just weird to see you without a bow within reach. It bothers me. Not even that folding contraption you hate to use."

Josef shrugged. "No choice. Our captain has sent us here to investigate and I am certain to be patted down for weapons. A longbow is slightly conspicuous. For that matter, you seem uneasy without your Windcatcher costume. No cloak? No white pullover and blue shorts?"

"Same here," she replied. Haley Lawson normally stayed insolent and slightly brash no matter what, but tonight she seemed subdued. Under the dark brown bangs, her green eyes were thoughtful. "Of course I am still wearing the Gem of Air under my collar. I can summon wind from a hurricane or Death Valley if I choose, so I'm not really disarmed."

"I'll be fine."

"I guess." Haley looked over at the rundown building herself, seeing it sat next to a bodega that was still open at this hour. "I don't think I've ever been in Corona before. Where are we? Roosevelt Avenue and 91st Street. Looks overwhelmingly Hispanic to me, even the signs are mostly in Spanish."

"Yes," Josef said, unbuckling his seat belt. "This isn't a bad part of Queens. You can buy some fresh produce here at a reasonable price. Tonight, of course, we are shopping for something more gruesome."

She stuck two fingers in her mouth and made a gagging noise. "Ugh, ick. A brothel. I can't believe places like this still exist in this day and age."

"This is called a 'fast house,'" the Blind Archer told her. "Very common in a lot of Latina neighborhoods. Forty or fifty dollars gets you fifteen minutes with a young chica. Then they toss you back out on the street."

"I think it's disgusting. Even with living prostitutes."

Josef got out of the car and leaned back in before closing the door. "I can't even bring my Link in with me. Just cash. But Megan has rigged a button on my belt buckle. When I press it, your Link will buzz and that's when you charge in to the rescue."

"If you really want to be rescued, ha hah."

"This is just a mission like any other," he said and closed the door. Josef Jubilec straightened up, looking around at the night, and his perception caught that he was being watched from a window of the fast house. He did not glance in that direction. The Blind Archer walked up to the front door with its simple tacked-on number 553 and pressed the white doorbell for a single long ring.

A short stocky man who had not shaven for a few days answered without opening the door more than a crack. In Spanish, he asked if his visitor needed help.

Josef answered in Spanish fluent enough that it seemed completely natural. Before joining Tel Shai, he had worked around the world as a bodyguard and counter-assassin, and he spoke several languages as if he had grown up with them. He replied that he needed the usual help a man requires, and held up two twenties and a ten. The man snatched the bills quickly and let him in.

In a long front hallway, with doors on either side, beneath a ceiling light in a grimy glass ball, the man asked him if he had any girl in mind. Josef managed a smile and answered that of course he wanted the youngest and prettiest in the building. This seemed to amuse the papi. He led the Blind Archer down the hall a ways and opened the fifth door they came to, then said "Only fifteen minutes, remember, then we knock."

At the end of the hall, another man was sitting in a plain wooden chair, studying a newspaper. He was bigger, tougher-looking and he had just stubbed out a cigarette on the arm of the chair. Reading their lifeforce with his gralic perception, the Blind Archer decided at once that these were normal living people even if not in the best of health. It was the ability to fix on a being's lifeforce without using sight that made the Blind Archers so feared. In darkness or rain or fog, their arrows never missed.

Thanking the papi, Josef went through the door into a hot, stuffy room lit by a single ceramic lamp on the wall. There was a chair and an empty nightstand, and aside from that only a Queen-sized bed with dingy sheets. Standing next to that bed was a tall, slightly chunky young woman with long curly black hair. She was wearing a yellow sundress and was barefoot. The vague smile on her face did not waver as she saw him.

Instantly, Josef knew that she was not fully alive. Her aura was faint and unsteady. He decided the room was kept overheated so that customers would not notice her flesh was not warm by itself. As Josef closed the door, she automatically drew the sundress up over her head to stand naked in front of him. There was a deep scar in her left ribcage that they had tried to mask with some sort of flesh-colored putty.

That must be the wound that had killed her, he thought. He asked her what her name was and she promptly replied it was Inez. Then he asked what day of the week it might be and she did not answer for a long moment before telling him he had better hurry and get undressed.

Josef felt a great weariness come over him. This was not a situation he wanted to be in any longer than necessary. In Spanish, he asked the woman if she remembered her family and if she realized what had happened to her. There was no reaction in her eyes at all. She walked closer and reached up to start unbuttoning his shirt.

The sooner the zombies were revived after dying, the more awareness and consciousness they retained. If they had been dead too long, they were mere automatons. Josef saw the stretch marks on her belly and decided to try one more question. He asked her if she remembered her children. There was not even a flicker of response in the blank cloudy eyes. Not anger, not bewilderment, not sorrow. She was acting out a limited choice of responses that had been drilled into her.

"I'm so sorry," he said. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he spun her around and brought down the rigid edge of his hand sharply down at the base of her neck. She dropped as limply as if she had never been resurrected at all, not trying to break her fall as her face hit the bare wooden floor. It was as if she had been eager to go into true death.

Moving slowly, Josef picked her up, tugged her sundress back onto her and stretched her out on the bed. He folded her hands across her chest and closed her eyes, giving her what little dignity she could have at that point. Where was this woman's family, he wondered. Were they still looking for her? Was her face up on home-made posters in some city, HAVE YOU SEEN ME? And would they really want to know what her horrific fate had been? With a face taut as stone, he opened the hall door to leave that room of horrors.

( the rest of the story )

RESURRECTION EMPIRE I: "All These Empty Graves"

(2/15-2/18/2015)

I.

At two minutes past ten that night, Galvan entered the conference room on the second floor to find the team of Tel Shai knights assembled around the long oak table. They had not been waiting for him, as Timothy was just pulling his own chair in and settling down. Walking over to the far end of the table, Galvan lowered his huge bulk carefully into the chair. At six feet six, with a denser body than a normal Human's, the big Melgar treated every chair with wariness.

They were all watching him. It was not because he was the last to arrive, nor that he was a guest of the KDF and not a member. The Melgar was an immense bulk of hard, well-defined muscle with zero body fat and he drew stares everywhere. In the plain white T-shirt and snug jeans, his body was impressive by any standard. Even after having him around the building for the past month, the others still gaped a bit when they saw him.

Within a curly black beard, perfect teeth gleamed as he smiled. "Good evening, everyone," the Melgar said in a pleasant baritone. "I assume some perilous crusade is ready to be launched?"

Sitting in the captain's seat at the head of the table, Lauren Sable Reilly smiled back. "Yes indeed. We are just getting ready. I want to say again how pleased we are to have you helping out on our cases, Galvan. Our team has a variety of skills but we lacked sheer physical strength which you provide."

"I cannot tarry here forever," the huge Melgar said, "But for the moment, I enjoy both the company and the chance to perform valiant deeds."

"Well, you are welcome to stay here indefinitely." She gazed at over at the assembly. The newest members, no longer trainees, were all present. Haley Lawson, Timothy Limbo, Demrak Jin, Jocelyn Garimara. But what pleased her most that the members of the former team, who had stepped down to reserve status, had come back as well. She had not seen Josef Jubilec, Sheng Mo-Yuan and Megan Salenger seated together at that table for years and it touched her enough that she had to clear her throat before continuing. Even Unicorn had promised she was on her way.

"Team, here's the situation. For almost a year now, I have been following a half dozen different mysteries across the Northeast and wondering if they had something in common. I am now convinced that we will be dealing with five different abominable operations all guided by the same mastermind, someone called the Resurrector. And they all involve reanimation of the dead."

"Ick, zombies," muttered Haley Lawson. She inspected her fingernails to distract herself. "I was hoping to avoid those things."

"Not zombies in the usual sense," Sable went on. "When we have dealt with Walkers before, they were corpses restored to a mere semblance of life by gralic sorcery. This seems to be something different and even worse. These Undead are coherent and verbal. They can mostly pass for living people." In her late thirties, Sable was a bit older than most of her team. She was serious and perfectionist by nature, traits which had led to her being chosen as captain of the team when Jeremy Bane had stepped down.

Looking over the assembled Tel Shai knights, Sable felt pride and satisfaction. She felt the new members were equal to the two previous KDF teams and would match those teams' records in the Midnight War. Seeing the eager young faces watching her with complete trust and anticipation, Sable began, "We will divide into pairs for this and then regather here for the final phase. For the part that requires stealth and infiltration, I have selected Timothy and Megan...."

After explaining her plan and assigning the teams their specific responsibilities, Sable dealt with the inevitable questions and requests to switch from one team to another but she had thought this all out thoroughly. "Since we will be using both of the cars in our garage and the CORBY, I must ask Megan to use her own vehicle on this case."

"Not a problem," the Trom Girl replied. "My Jeep is stored at IMPERIAL GARAGE on 40th Street, ready to go." She glanced across the table at Timothy Limbo. "Tim, are your friendly ghosts in good shape?"

"They're all excited," he said with a straight face. "They enjoy your driving. It's like going on the rides at Coney Island."

Sable continued, "We will begin in twenty minutes. I would like to recommend full field suits for this, all weaponry and helmets included. But, Josef, your assignment calls for civies. I think typical office clothing would be good. Of course Galvan has not been issued a field suit, and then we have Demrak Jin. As usual in a combat situation, you will want to wear your sharkhide outfit, Jin. But at least throw a long topcoat over it to avoid drawing attention."

Demrak Jin's wide flat face with its pug nose and bristly white hair always looked sullen, even at rest. Now she gave her captain a grudgingly polite look and answered, "Of course, Sable."

Unable to repress her grin, Haley Lawson burst out, "Where's Jeremy? Where IS he! All we need is the Dire Wolf to make the reunion complete."

"Ah well, Jeremy is semi-retired. He still takes an occasional minor case now and then, but we can handle this threat ourselves," Sable said. "As it is, I can't remember the last time we had such a full roll call on hand."

Leaning back and folding her arms, Haley grumbled, "Even so, a big project like this is not complete without our Dire Wolf present."

"Everyone keep in touch through the Links as things develop," Sable continued. During lulls, I want you to report briefly to me so I know the general score. That's it, let's roll."

( the rest of the story )

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Entries tagged with haley lawson

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"ATRUMO THE CONQUEROR III: The Boiling Pit of Filth"

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"RESURRECTION EMPIRE III: Life In the Morgue"

"RESURRECTION EMPIRE II: Pimping Out Zombies In Corona"

"RESURRECTION EMPIRE I: All These Empty Graves"