Demon Accords 05.5: Executable (21 page)

I heard some of the discussion, fading in and out of consciousness.  Somewhere along the way, I ended up with a pillow and blanket, along with a couple of disposable chemical hand warmer packets.  When I finally dragged myself back to the world of the living I found a tray of food—oatmeal and chocolate milk.  I dug in, knowing I’d need every ounce of energy I could muster if we were going to escape. 

An hour after I had finished eating, Krista appeared with a beefy guard to retrieve my tray.  The guard reached out to the platform with a long pole, snagging my plastic island with a metal hook in an indentation on the bottom of my platform.  He pulled the whole disc over to the doorway, allowing Krista to barely step onto it.  I felt a subtle change in the power around me, telling me that the circle of silver had been closed and charged till she broke it.  The whole thing was a clever set-up, designed to isolate me from both the earth and any source of energy I could use for fire.  Even the air was cool, reducing the amount of heat in the atmosphere around me, leaving me nothing to work with.  Or almost nothing.  I didn’t have much knowledge of how witches could be kept captive, but it made huge sense to me.  If it was Krista being kept captive, than
I
would enclose her in earth, surrounded by high heat to bake away any moisture.  Earth against air, fire against water. 

But as chill as the air was, it still had
some
measure of heat to it.  Not a lot, and spread out over the whole volume of the cell, not really accessible.  Unless the witch trying to tap it also had some small skill with Air. 

So my stomach was reasonably full, and my reserve of power had been trickle charging over the last hour as I extracted what little heat I could, sitting cross legged on my island.

“Wow, it’s cold in here,” the dark witch noted.  “Tell those idiots in the control room to turn it up a small amount.  We wouldn’t want our young friend here to catch a cold, now would we?”

“Speaking of friends, where is mine?  Where is Caeco?”

She frowned at me, then squatted down to bring her eyes level with mine.  She was wearing a long-sleeved black dress over black knitted tights, chunky high heels, and long, hanging earrings that depicted some kind of geometric pattern. Her sleeves were pushed up her forearms, exposing tattoos. The earrings looked witchy, but they weren’t.  Three of the rings on her hands
were
, though.  Magical artifacts, little fields of power that made each of them look extra sharp to my vision, like the difference between high-definition TV and a standard picture.  Two on her left hand, one on her right.

Every witch and warlock is born with a certain level of power which, with training and experience, they can maximize.  But to exceed that level of power is not possible unless you have boosters, enhancers—artifacts. Any witch could use an artifact and depending on the power of the item, it could move that witch up one or more levels of power.

“Your friend is fine, well not fine, but healthy at least.  I wouldn’t worry about her too much; she probably wouldn’t want to see you right now anyway.  She’s in kind of a funk… dealing with some personal issues, you might say.  But let’s talk about you, Declan.  Now your driver’s license says
O’Carroll
for a surname, but my own sources on the Emerald Isle have never heard of any witches named O’Carroll.  I guess that makes sense. I mean, if
I
were going into hiding in a new country, I wouldn’t use my real name, now would I?” she asked, tilting her head to study my reaction.  Reactions.

Her words had triggered a whole lot of thoughts.  Caeco was alive, but angry and dealing with… issues?  That didn’t make any sense until the thought of her frozen in place at the strange words that Miseri had uttered.  Her limbs had been shaking with the effort of trying to move, but she’d locked up tight.  I had a flash of insight—a eureka moment.  It came at the same moment as a memory of the metallic taste in my mouth when I had first woken up.  Along with a memory of Caeco falling on me and her blood dripping into my mouth. 

If I were a mad scientist and I was going to build a super warrior, I think I would want a fail-safe of sorts.  Something to protect myself from said warrior.  And if my super weapon was loaded with programmable nannites, maybe I would program those little micro mini-machines with a command, an executable file, triggered by words only I knew.

All of this flashed through my head at a most unusual speed.  Literally a stream of consciousness that bordered on bizarre.  Then I focused on her words about my name.

“O’Carroll is the only name I’ve ever known.  If they changed it, I wouldn’t know,” I answered truthfully.  I had actually never considered that my aunt and mother might have taken a different last name.  I found myself a bit bothered by the fact that I might not be who I thought I was.

Krista was nodding, her dark eyes studying me carefully.  She wasn’t a whole lot older than I was.  Maybe twenty-three or twenty-four, I decided.

“There is a story about two witch sisters that disappeared something like eighteen years ago.  Quite high level too.  Ashling and Maeve Irwin.  Ever heard of them?”

I shook my head, slightly stunned.  The chances that two witches with the same first names as my mom and aunt leaving Ireland at the same time were pretty nil.  And then there was the fact that my middle name—the one I wasn’t allowed to put down on any forms—was Irwin.  Aunt Ashling had never told me that my true last name was Irwin.

She smiled, but it was a victory smile, not a friendly smile.  “Yeah and the one witch, Maeve, tested off the charts.  Your mom’s name wouldn’t be Maeve, now would it?”

I didn’t answer her, at least verbally.  But any chance of hiding my reaction had been blown by the revelation that I wasn’t who I thought I was.  That probably shouldn’t have come as a huge surprise.  I mean, it would have been idiotic to run to America and then continue to use your last name.  But I had never thought about it, had just assumed I was an O’Carroll from Ireland.  But I wasn’t.

“Well, good chat, stud.  We’ll talk some more,” she said, standing up to leave.  I grabbed at her hand, her right hand with my left.  “Wait, can I see Caeco?”

She shook me off, looking annoyed.  “You need to forget her.  She’s not your kind, Declan,” she said, stepping back and leaving my island.  I felt the circle power up as she nodded to the guard, who shoved my platform back to the center of the water.

Standing behind the squatting guard as he positioned me back out in the middle of the pool, she locked eyes with me, hers having a greedy gleam to them.  Then the door slid shut, leaving me alone.  Just myself and the dose of power I had just leached off her ring.  I tucked it away inside me, a pulse of magical power that brought my levels up to almost full.  With little else to do, I sat back and contemplated the air itself.  The molecules of gases that swirled around me, sustained my lungs, and moved about the cell.  And out of the cell, through the fine mesh grating near the ceiling and into the rest of the building.  My tongue was feeling my teeth, kinda like when I’ve just had them cleaned at the dentist, but now they were cruddy—unbrushed for too long.  Some of the bad taste in my mouth was normal, but a small part was metallic and sharp, gritty and biting almost.  And oddly, as I tasted it, I had a mental image of Caeco, sitting in a cell, angry and ashamed, filled with self-loathing.

The girl crouched in the corner of her cell, arms wrapped about her legs, forehead on her knees.  She positively radiated anger.  And hatred.  As she raised her head and met Miseri’s gaze, much of that hatred focused on the blonde agent.  But Miseri thought some measure was being directed inward
, as well.

“Come on, Caeco. You didn’t think we would leave you without a safety, did you?  What kind of weapon has no safety?  I imagine it was hard… being frozen in place, unable to help your young warlock friend, all because of a tiny command file embedded in your nanotechnology.”

The girl just glared at her, which was a teeny bit disconcerting.  Miseri had more than a healthy respect for Caeco’s abilities.  She had been assigned almost from the moment Caeco was decanted from her growth tank, had watched her grow.  She’d even suggested many of the tests and challenges that the research team had put the girl through.  Their relationship had always been cordial.  Now, Miseri was glad the cell was constructed of zoo-quality steel.  Even the executable file wouldn’t help her if Caeco got free.  In the time it took to say the words, the girl could kill three people.  She’d almost killed Clay in less time than that.  Privately, Miseri thought that AIR was wrong to terminate the project.  The seventeen-year-old girl was more than a match for any of the Juiced soldiers that AIR had decided were the more cost-effective replacement.  Even with her own Juiced abilities, Miseri held no delusions about the outcome of a close quarters encounter with the genetically enhanced girl who now actively hated her.  She should be studied, replicated with new technology.  Her raw potential was too valuable.  But ultimately, it wasn’t Miseri’s call.

“If it’s any consolation, your mother is still free.  Oracle whisked her away before another team could get there.  You and your little buddy had already left me undermanned—kind of decimated my team.  You did pretty well together, you and your witch boy.  How did you find him?  He’s kinda cute, don’t you think?  The witch girls are gonna go batty over him,” Miseri said, watching for reactions.

And she got plenty.  Not that a casual observer would see much, but Miseri was long practiced in reading Caeco’s reactions, as few and tightly controlled as they were.  A few twitches and eyeblinks, but it was something.  Quite a lot, actually.  She had obviously formed loyalties and strong attachments.  It confirmed one of Miseri’s long-held beliefs.  You couldn’t grow a robot from a human base and expect it to not have emotions.  She wasn’t even sure why the AIR Council would want to.  The best fighters she knew all had passion for something, herself and Clay included.  People mistook her giant partner as a dangerous simpleton who went where he was pointed.  They were wrong.  Clay was well-suited to his work and had a certain cunning for combat.  More importantly, he was completely loyal—to her, which worked as she was loyal to AIR. Together, they were one of the top teams that AIR fielded. 

“Why are you waiting?” Caeco asked, voice surprisingly soft.

“I’m waiting because I have never agreed with the Central Council’s view of you.  My report will reflect that.  You and your mother escaped Facility 21, which has never been done, created new identities, and set up functioning lives.  You managed to completely integrate yourself in a modern high school within days and form alliances that provided you with significant resources.  Then, when your cover was blown, you managed to take down more than half of a Gladius team as well as poor Clay.  Oh, and you found yourself a supernatural partner in the process.  The only reason that you were captured at all was because of the executable protocol that
I
insisted be added when you were enhanced with nano.  Outstanding performance, Caeco.”

“How did you find us so fast?”

“Your mother is a brilliant woman, top of her field, and didn’t do too badly dabbling in espionage.  But we know all the players in the false identity line in New Mexico, Nevada, Texas, and Arizona.  Your mom left a few small clues that pointed toward Phoenix, and then it was just good, old-fashioned human spycraft.  If you had run again after disposing of Machete, you might have been better off.  Oracle has been a thorn in our side but ultimately, we prevail.  Trusting them was a mistake.  They are inherently weak, which is not so much because of their abilities but the lack of will to use them as they should.”

“Where is Declan?”

“Oh, he’s tucked away, safe and sound.  No worries there.  Apparently, he has a lot of value, you know, for his abilities,” Miseri replied.

“He’s just a male.  They don’t have that much power,” Caeco said. 

Interesting.  Not trying to sandbag me, are you little girl?
  Miseri thought.  “Really?  I thought he did pretty well with the lightning and all.  Taking out three combatants and a vehicle in one strike is rather impressive.  He’ll fetch a nice price.  I suspect he’ll live out his days in a drugged stupor, you know, when he isn’t being used for his… ah… services.”

Caeco was on her feet, the movement from sitting to standing a smooth blur.  Fists clenched, body taut with anger, still she held herself in check.  
Hmm, there’s a reaction. But the girl is learning to control that temper.

The door to the cell block opened behind them both, and Miseri turned to see Krista come through, a canvas messenger bag over one shoulder.  The young witch nodded at Miseri, studied Caeco with obvious curiosity, and then proceeded to the empty cell two over from Caeco’s.  Once inside, she opened her bag and pulled out what looked like a metal ball with a screw on top and a bundle of string.   She set the ball, which appeared to be lead, in the middle of the cell floor, unwound the attached string, and started to compass draw a circle with chalk that she tied to the string.

“What are you doing?” Miseri asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?  I’m setting up the cell to hold
her
—” she pointed at Caeco, “—little friend.  He’s gotta be moved from the containment cell.”

“Are you crazy?  That crap isn’t going to hold him!  Who gave that order?”

“Director Hasta.  They need to empty that cell and reconfigure the whole floor above us.  Some big deal is about to go down, and the Council is getting a trap ready.  Something called Brutal Asset?”

“What?  Now?  They can’t do that! The boy will blow right through your Mickey Moused setup!”

“Look, Agent Miseri, you might be a hot shot with science projects like her, but witchcraft is
my
profession, and
my
circles hold!  What the fuck do you know about the Craft?  And if you don’t like it, take it up with Hasta!” the Goth witch said.

“I know you’re being played for a sucker by that kid.  As for Hasta, where is he?”

“Yeah, good luck with that.  He’s upstairs, same level as the kid,” the witch said before turning her back and pulling a can of spray paint from the bag.  Shaking the can until it produced clunking sounds; she proceeded to reinforce the chalk circle with a painted one.

Miseri left, heading for the upper level. As she turned to go, she caught the slightest gleam in Caeco’s eye.  Just a hint of interest… or maybe a hint of hope.