Spellbound (3 page)

That alien marking could only mean one thing.
Iron Guard!

The killer saw Francis in the window and grinned. Sparks gathered in his hands.

Gathering his Power and blinking the blood from his eyes, Francis searched for a weapon. The waiter that had brought him a drink was on the floor nearby, burned and gasping. The silver serving tray was next to him, aerodynamic and solid . . . Francis concentrated, using his magic to reach out and lift the tray from the floor. It appeared to levitate, up, over the windowsill, and then Francis concentrated and used a mighty blast of Power to hurl it at his target.

Being a Mover of his caliber was just like having a bunch of invisible, long range, extremely strong hands. Not impeded by the frailty of human muscle, Francis was able to spin the tray through the air at a terrible velocity and guide it with precision. The improvised discus hit the assassin square in the throat. That eerie smile disappeared as the head rolled off into the street.

Los Angeles, California

FAYE SAT IN SILENCE
while the film reel played. It was an amazing thing, and though she’d sat through dozens of motion pictures over the last several months—since she routinely rubbed elbows with high society now—the magic of a moving picture never seemed to wear off. The projector was a small one, as was the screen. The smoky hotel room was certainly no theater, the subject was depressing, and there was no music or narration, but despite that, even this movie was neat. Faye just plain liked going to the movies. They were . . . well . . .
magic.

The newsreel was showing scenes of Japan. Faye had never visited the faraway lands of the Imperium in person. The closest she’d ever come to Imperium soil was standing on their flagship, however briefly, before it was blown to kingdom come by Tesla’s Geo-Tel. The film made Japan seem nice, with cherry blossoms falling like snow, big wooden arches, and exotic ladies with big sandals and pretty dresses. If it wasn’t all controlled by a bunch of evil crazy people who’d already tried to kill her a whole mess of times, the film would almost make her want to go for a visit.

The hotel suite was crowded. Most of the participants were using tobacco, and she could watch the smoke curling into loops and swirls in the flickering beam of the projector. Faye found that it was hard to breathe, but the others didn’t seem to notice. These important-behind-closed-doors types all seemed to smoke. Their Healer, Jane, certainly disapproved, and despite the fact that Jane could actually see your lungs right through your chest and sense disease coming a mile away, nobody wanted to listen to her on
that
subject.

Some of the people here were powerful, and not just in the magical sense, either. Knights had come from all over the country, and a contingent of them had even come all the way from Europe, including two of the elders. Things had really been shaken up since Mar Pacifica and the Geo-Tel. It was a huge meeting by the standards of the Grimnoir Society, and she knew that was partly because they wanted to see her in person . . . the girl who had dared to face the Chairman.

The elders had spoken to her alone for a long time. Faye had given her report; she’d been grilled, quizzed, questioned, annoyed, and poked at, and now she was ready to go home. When it was time for the movie, they’d invited everybody else in.

On the screen, men in robes beat a rhythm on giant gongs. Children laughed and played in the perfectly clean streets.

“They skipped the part with the torture schools,” the man at her side pointed out.

“Hush, Mr. Browning,” Faye whispered. “I’m trying to listen.”

“There is no sound accompanying it, my dear.”

He had her there. “It isn’t polite to talk in the theater anyway.”

John Moses Browning chuckled, but decided not to take her advice. He spoke up so that all could hear. “Is it possible that this was filmed prior to the Tesla event?”

Much to Faye’s consternation, the elder in charge of the secret gathering had no qualms about talking during the movie either. “We have confirmed that this was filmed recently. Here he comes. Watch carefully, please, Miss Vierra.”

That was her. There were only three members of the Grimnoir Society that had ever spoken with the Chairman in person that were still alive, and Jane and Mr. Sullivan weren’t here. Faye made sure to concentrate, a skill that came with great difficulty when your brain worked so much faster than everyone else’s. The projector was showing a big army parade. Imperium soldiers were marching in wave after wave, their posture as straight as the long bayonets on the ends of their rifles. There was a man riding a giant black horse at the head of the column. The crowd of thousands bowed and stayed bowed as he rode past. He was familiar, handsome, intimidating, and far too alive to be who she thought he was.

The image looked exactly like him. “There has to be a mistake,” Faye said. “The Chairman’s dead.”

One of the younger knights at the back of the room chimed in. “The Imperium insists he didn’t perish aboard the
Tokugawa
.”

“The Imperium also says the
Tokugawa
and the
Kaga
got wrecked in a storm, and we all know that’s a bunch of bunk.”

“How can you be so certain he is deceased?” a young English knight asked.

His accent—was that what English was
supposed
to sound like?—grated on Faye’s ears. “Shucks, I don’t know. Maybe because I cut his hands off and threw them in a propeller, is how. Then the whole ship got blown up. I was there, you weren’t. Besides—” John Moses Browning reached over and placed one hand on her knee to try to quiet her, because he knew what she was going to say next was going to sound crazy, and she already hadcultivated quite the reputation for crazy, but Browning was too late. “I talked to his ghost afterward.”

Mr. Browning sighed.

“Preposterous,” said one of the other knights.

“No. He was sad that he was dead. He told me a poem.”

The knights all began speaking at once. The film ended. The loose end of the reel slapped rhythmically against the projector. The screen went white.

“The child is quite mad, Browning,” said a Frenchman.

That made Faye angry. First, she wasn’t a kid anymore, and second, she wasn’t crazy. The Frenchman was lucky she didn’t Travel his head someplace without the rest of his body.

Mr. Browning stuck up for her. “This
child
killed a hundred elite Imperium troops in combat, did battle with the most powerful wizard the world has ever known, and then Traveled an entire dirigible and its crew a thousand miles . . . I would watch your tone, sir.”

There was a polite cough. “My apologies, madam.”

Damn right,
Faye thought to herself.

“That man in the film could be a double,” one of the other Americans said. “Maybe a Ringer? Heaven knows the Imperium has enough Actives—they are bound to have a few of those.”

“Not a Ringer. Their magic clouds the viewer’s mind. It has no hold over recording technology,” Mr. Browning said. He was one of the senior members present and as far as Faye was concerned, the smartest one there, but she was rather biased. “A skilled actor would be more likely.”

“Then this thespian deserves one of those new academy awards for his performance.” One of the two elders was British. The elders never left the shadows, as their identities were always kept secret, but he sounded fat. Even his shadow was fat. “Bravo. Excellent performance, I say.”

Faye didn’t know very many of their names, and that was on purpose, including the Americans that hadn’t been Pershing’s knights. It wouldn’t be much of a secret society if you knew everyone else’s name, now would it? Whenever the Imperium captured a knight, the first thing they did was torture them until they gave up everyone else they knew.

The fat Englishman continued. “Our spies insist that both the Imperial Council and the Emperor believe this man to be the real Chairman. His mission of purification continues unabated. The schools still churn out Active soldiers, more territory falls by the day, and Unit 731 continues their eugenic madness. So, even if deceased, the Chairman is having a rather fine year.”

“I’m telling you,
I
killed the Chairman,” Faye insisted.

A new voice came from the back. “If anything killed the Chairman, it was the cunning of Isaiah Rawls and Kristopher Harkeness.”

The room grew deadly quiet.

“Who said that?” Faye asked sharply.

Through treachery, murder, and blackmail, those two Grimnoir had delivered a sabotaged Tesla superweapon into the Chairman’s hands. Its firing had vaporized the
Tokugawa,
but in order to deceive the Chairman, Harkeness and Rawls had sacrificed many of their fellow Grimnoir. Their plan had worked, but it had cost lives. Some had been her friends, and one in particular had been her grandpa. Harkeness was dead. Rawls was missing, and if she knew what rock he was hiding under she’d kill him too. It was amazing that anyone here actually had the nerve to speak up for traitors. Faye stood and tried to pick out behind the gleaming beam of the projector which one of the shapes she needed to hurt. “Say that again.”

Browning sensed the coming murder. “Faye, please . . .”

“Enough,” the elder in charge of the meeting spoke. He was German, and sounded a bit like an older version of Heinrich when he talked. “Their actions were a blight on the Society and made a mockery of what we stand for. Regardless of how you personally feel, Pershing’s knights were the ones bled by their actions. Those names will not be spoken here today.”

Faye returned to her seat. She may have been the youngest there and the only girl, but she wasn’t about to have somebody talking up the men responsible for killing Grandpa like they were heroes. Whoever it was who said that . . . well, she was going to have a little
talk
with them after.

The German elder stood to address the room. “Turn off that blasted machine.” The projector was shut down. The only illumination was the bit of sunlight sneaking around the edge of the curtains. “Gentlemen, lady, the elders have much to discuss. Our American brothers are in trouble, with being blamed for the Peace Ray destruction of Mar Pacifica, and talk of a registration of Actives or worse . . . These are challenging times for our people everywhere. Thank you for coming all the way here. Your reports are valuable and your efforts, as always, are appreciated.”

“And of my request?” Mr. Browning asked.

“We have discussed it. The American knights have taken terrible casualties over recent years. Some here have already volunteered to join your cause and will be returning with you.”

“And of new recruits?”

The fat Englishman answered. “It appears General Pershing recruited against our counsel anyway.” It was obvious he was looking directly at Faye as he said that. “I can only assume you plan on continuing that tradition. You Yanks tend to do what you want, regardless of the risks it exposes the rest of us to.”

“We did what we had to,” Mr. Browning said pointedly.

“Though it may have felt that way in the past, you have not been in this fight alone. Across the Orient, the Imperium grows. The Soviets are enslaving every Active they can get their hands on. Both groups have agents and saboteurs in every single land, stirring the pot.”

“I assure you, sir,” Mr. Browning said as politely as possible, “that there is a significant measure of difference between pot-stirring and having Tesla superweapons fired at your cities.”

The German elder just nodded. Faye had to remember that Germans knew all about what it was like to get blasted with a Peace Ray. “Very well. You have the authority to recruit as you see fit. You will report solely to the American elder, who, sadly, was unable to join us today. Pershing’s knights are yours to command, Mr. Browning.”

“They will continue to be called Pershing’s knights. I do not consider myself worthy.”

“As you wish, old friend. Do your best. Alive or dead, it seems the Chairman, or perhaps the idea of the Chairman, is still our greatest threat.”

Faye had to speak up at that. “There’s something worse.” The two elders hadn’t wanted to listen before when they were alone, but now that all the others were in the room, they had to know. “The hungry thing. The thing that’s looking for the Power. Even the Chairman was scared—”

“That’ll be all,” the elder stopped her gently. “Do not worry. We will discuss what you and Mr. Sullivan told us, and make plans accordingly.”

It was the politest way that she’d ever been told to shut up. These Europeans sure were fancy with the manners.

The meeting broke up. The elders shuffled out one door to be whisked off by their many bodyguards to some other secret hiding place. It was understandable. Even though there were something like twenty knights watching this place, their enemies would love to take a crack at them. Sometimes Faye wondered if doing everything so secretly for so long had made many of the old Grimnoir too timid.

“I don’t think I did very good,” Faye told Mr. Browning.

“You shook things up a bit,” he answered with a gentle smile. “But I don’t necessarily believe that to be a bad thing. It is easy for an organization led by old men such as myself to be a little hidebound. In fact, the only other person I know of that’s ever been able to shake up this bunch was Black Jack himself.”

That comment made Faye especially proud.

Once the elders were away, someone opened the curtains. Faye was surprised to discover that many of the regular knights wanted to talk to little old her. Some of them had come a very long way, and apparently the stories about her had caused quite a stir. She really wasn’t used to the attention. She spent the next few minutes retelling the story about the fight aboard the
Tokugawa.
She didn’t even have to exaggerate to make it sound amazing.

There was a sudden commotion at the rear of the room. Browning may have been an old man, but you wouldn’t know it by the speed his hand landed on the butt of the .45 automatic inside his suit. Several other Grimnoir reacted in the same manner, which just went to show that they were a jumpy bunch. One of the elders’ bodyguards was in the doorway, speaking rapidly in French. Someone else was asking him to slow down. “Just a messenger,” Browning removed his hand from his pistol and listened, scowling.