Weston Ochse - Reign of Evil

“Once we saw the body, it was all about that.”

“Did Hoover come in here?”

“No, she was in the other rooms.”

Walker pulled his pistol and dropped to his knees. A set of eyes met his own. “Get out of there.”

The eyes blinked at him.

He waved the barrel of his pistol. “Get the hell out.”

A hand came out. He grabbed it and pulled a woman free. She wore jeans and a blouse but had no shoes on, nor did she have any jewelry. Her blond hair was mussed, but her face was thankfully free of stitches. She looked for all the world like a regular girl, but Walker knew better. The moment he touched her he could feel the power coursing through her. He let her go and kicked her away.

“Get the witch.”

YaYa stared a moment, then broke into motion. He went to the top of the stairs and called down. Soon Laws and the witch were pounding up the stairs and into the room.

“I don’t know what she is, but she’s something.”

The witch took one look and laughed. “Sarah Pinney, what have you done? Did you look under the bed for a robe?”

YaYa reached under the bed and pulled out a scarlet robe, the same ones worn by the Red Grove. He held it in his mechanical hand like it was rotten.

Walker stood and backed away. He crossed his arms low and in front of him but still held his pistol.

The woman named Sarah was older than he’d originally thought. Her mousy blond hair held slivers of gray and crow’s-feet lived at the corners of her eyes and mouth. “Sassy, we thought it was you.”

“In all of my glory.” She took the robe from YaYa and inspected it. “I thought there were a few familiar touches in the Red Grove’s magic.”

The girl went to stand, but Walker shook his head and lifted the tip of the pistol slightly. She gave him a smile which said a girl had to try, then settled onto her butt. “You might as well know, since it’s almost over.”

“You’d be surprised how much we already know.”

Sarah giggled. “We know. Merlyn told us.”

Laws stepped forward. “Who is this, Ms. Moore?”

“She and I once trained together. She was going to be a part of the Fraternitas Saturni as well, but she didn’t have what it took.”

“Except she has a Tuatha inside her, now,” YaYa said.

Sassy nodded. “Except that. How’d you know?”

YaYa made a face. “It’s like a familiar smell, except it’s a feeling instead. Not at all pleasant.”

“Even with a Tuatha, this one is no match for me.” Sassy knelt next to the woman. “And it’s a nasty little beastie inside you, isn’t it? What is it?”

“A Baen Sidhe.”

“What’s her name?”

“I’m not going to tell you that.”

Sassy gave her a matronly smile. “Come now, Sarah. You’ve never been one to like a lot of pain. Do you really want to deny me?”

The other witch looked defiant for a moment, then sighed. She shrugged. “Fine. Have her. It’s not like you’ll be able to do anything with it. There’s nothing you’ll be able to do to stop it.”

“We’ll see about that. Now let me get to that Baen Sidhe. I could use a recharge.” She brought her Viking wand up and pointed it at the other witch. “You boys might want to turn away. This is going to get ugly.”

Preeti was anxious to get through. The total blackout was killing her. Not only did she need to find out about Trevor, but she’d also been trying to coordinate some backup for Ian and the men of SEAL Team 666. Her brother was helping her as well and both of them were butting up against a wholesale effort to keep information from flowing within the country and to turn the communication networks into a cat’s cradle of confusion. She couldn’t contact anyone meaningful, and when she could get through they were requiring her to authenticate a phrase for which she had no password. Lord Robinson was completely incommunicado. Even his private cell number was out of service. She was becoming increasingly concerned that they might be winning the battles but losing the war. She said as much to Genaro, who could feel her frustration.

“Have you tried to have someone external contact an internal number? Maybe it’s something they’ve done with the switches.”

She thought it was a great idea and contacted Pete Musso at SPG. She explained what she needed. Gave him several numbers, then waited. He came back in fifteen minutes and the news wasn’t good. He couldn’t get through either, and with a query to a colleague in America’s NSA it became apparent that Britain’s Government Communications Headquarters had locked down the communications systems and was only allowing connectivity through their master server in The Doughnut, their headquarters in Cheltenham.

Preeti slammed her crutches against the floor. “Damn it. What if they need help? There’s no way to get it to them.”

“This had to have been part of the greater plan. It makes you wonder how many people in high places are involved.”

“It could only be a few if they have the right access. After all, it’s Christmas Day. No one’s paying attention to anything except their families.”

Genaro had another idea. “What about friends from outside England? Help from America is too far, but what about France or Germany?”

Preeti felt a well of hope. “Or Ireland. Trevor and Ian worked with a couple blokes from the Irish Seventeenth Army Ranger Wing. On paper it doesn’t exist, but much like Section 9, they’ve been around for quite a while.”

She tried to call out but wasn’t able to connect. Which made sense, since GCHQ controlled all of Great Britain. She called back Musso and asked him to contact Conor McGinty and to give him a time to connect, which was thirty minutes from then. Musso said he would, and in the meantime she logged onto Facebook and pulled up a popular application used to play word games.

While she waited, Genaro made them another pot of coffee. She was on the third pot. Her stomach was torn up from the stress and the acid. He urged her to eat and she finally chose a slice of bread with some butter on it. She couldn’t bring herself to try anything else.

Two of her Facebook friends saw her online and tried to initiate a game, but she ignored them. Finally, thirty-seven minutes after she began waiting, she saw the word Laith pop into her box. She replied with Luachra . Laith Luachra was the mother of Finn mac Cumhaill, better known as Finn McCool. Not only was he a great Irish mythological warrior, but it was also the nickname of the Irish Seventeenth Army Ranger Wing—the Finn McCools.

Then they opened a chat window.

Conor: Merry Christmas. What’s up?

Preeti: Nothing merry about it.

Conor: Uh-oh. Tell me.

Preeti: Jerry’s dead. Trevor may be too. Lost three others last week. Might lose the Queen. Need help.

There was a long pause.

Conor: Sorry about loss. Terrible. What news with Queen?

Preeti: All other coms are hijacked. Highest-level bad guys. Want to overthrow Queen.

Conor: We’ve been tracking something. Bad day to get help.

Preeti: Can’t help it. Do you have anything?

Another long pause.

Conor: Have two choppers at Culdros. Two men. Not going to be happy, but looks like you need it.

Preeti: You have no idea.

Conor: It must really be bad. How’s Ian?

Preeti: You can guess.

Conor: Yeah. I can. Listen, Patrick Kelly and Keith O’Reilly will be in contact. Keep lines open.

Preeti: Will do. And thank you, Conor.

Conor: As always, payment in beer.