We gazed at each other, the sinking feeling in my stomach fighting with the breakfast I had just eaten. My hands clench, almost but not quite going for my weapons.
“Why so hostile?” Her mental voice is coolly amused. It stops me in my tracks. Exactly why am I so hostile? I have never, to my knowledge, met a witch. So why the instantaneous recognition, loathing and fear?
“You begin to see that not all of your education was benign.” She still sounds amused when using her speaking voice, but with an undertone of sad resignation. “Don't worry, every operative has the same reaction when they find out.” Luigi and Marta look confused and worried.
“Marta, Luis, it's OK. Just had a little bit of a shock, that is all. We'll be fine now.” I reassure them. They still look dubious, but accept it. “I must look into this, but not right now.”
“I can help you, if you trust me to do so.” Still wary, and standing just out of range.
I look at Marta. She nods. “You can trust her as we trust you, cara mio.” I nod gravely – that is trust indeed. Check the time, still got an hour.
“I need to be back inside in an hour.” Eyes rest on Seraphina. “Marta says you may be able to help me with a demon problem.”
“Yes, Marta told me about this.” She reaches into her cloak and removes a small silver brooch, amorphous in shape with an unusual stone in the center. “Wear this, it will attract and hold the gaze of your Reaver for a few seconds. Only a few seconds, but that must be enough, for it will drive the monster into a fury. I cannot help you with your implanted education in the time we have.” I take the brooch and pin it to the collar of my jacket.
“I will meet you tomorrow, should I survive tonight. Marta and Luigi will know if I fail or am injured – they and my god-daughter are listed as my next of kin.” They look stunned. I smile at them. “Well, who else have I got?”
* * *
16:00, Briefing Room 4. Running a last minute check on what we have so far. Tracking sends some information my way - a tentative location for our Reaver and entourage based on some intermittent readings. Slap bang in the middle of the Metro Toronto Convention Centre, and about 30 meters down.
Oh, this is fucking great. By sundown, the convention centre will be packed with people attending the biggest sci-fi/horror con in Eastern North America. And North American authorities are notoriously uncooperative with the Vatican. Still, one must try. I route the information to one of the Old Men – Jarwalyski, chief of diplomacy, for him to try his luck. Call up the list of Rapid Reaction Force officers for the Metro Toronto area. If I am lucky …
Bingo! One of Mom and Dad's old friends is now Chief of Operations there. Sometimes, He does smile on our endeavours! Mutter a quick prayer of gratitude as I place the call.
The screen snaps into sharp focus, showing a man of 60 in an immaculate uniform. Behind him, through the glass, I can see the organised chaos common to every operations room on the planet.
“Commander LaSalle, it is good to see you again.” I remember him well, he used to take me fishing as a child.
“Do I know you? I have no time for social calls, we are busy.” He hasn't changed much, just gotten older. He reaches for the off switch, then pauses. “You do look familiar though ...”
“Felix Stevens – Frank Stevens boy.” See recognition in his eyes. “I am calling about your problems, sir. They are about to get much, much worse.”
He looks me over. “Heard you had joined the nutcases for some reason or other. Is this related to that?”
“Yes sir. Your demon is no ordinary one, so they called me in to handle it.”
“Demon! Try a score of them and you'll be closer to the mark. And all requests we have made to the high and mighty Vatican have been met with a “We'll get back to you as soon as possible” answer. I have people dying here!”
“As do we, sir. You will have an observer team arriving an hour before sunset to pinpoint the location. My team will arrive at sunset, directly to the most probable of tonight's attack points. The Metro Convention Centre.” He sags. “We will need your people's help. Desperately. I am contacting you directly, as you at least may believe me enough to help minimise the loss of life tonight.”
He thinks. In the background I hear some of the team members arriving. Seeing me in screen conference, they stay out of pick-up range and listen.
“OK. For Frank's boy, not for the religious nuts. What do you need?”
“I need the Convention Centre totally empty by sunset. Round up every stray dog and cat you can find and put them in there, so there is still an intense enough concentration of life force that the demons will attack there instead of looking elsewhere. Put food outside the cages, so the animals get excited and upset.”Ticking off points on my fingers as I make them. “Have ambulances standing by at least three blocks away, ready to come in fast if they are needed – and they will be needed.”
“Difficult in the time, but doable.” He nods. “Do you need any soldiers?”
“Put a squad to protect each ambulance, and a squad at every intersection leading to the convention centre. Make sure they have night vision goggles – and use them. Guns don't to much against demons, but they do slow some of them down, so if it doesn't look right, shoot. I'll send through enough Operatives to protect each squad in case of a breakout. Those will be with you in 90 minutes, to give them time to learn the aura's of the people they are protecting.”
“And where will you be?”
“I'll be right in the middle of it all, killing the head demon, Him willing.” Wonder if my face is a grim as I feel. “I'll put you in touch with my liaison officer nearer the time.”
“Wilco.” He looks at me with something approaching respect. “Felix, your Dad would be really proud of you. Try make a bit of time after this, we'll get in some fishing. LaSalle out.”
Look round the room. Whole team is now present, having silently filtered in while I was on the phone.
“Luis, good to see you again! Stomach healed up?” He wobbles his hand in the air. Luis is only a Operative 14, barely able to banish a ghost, but is capable of following 20 conversations simultaneously. He got ripped up almost as badly as me on the Brinkmeyer case. It is good to see him on his feet again.
“Still I cannot eat the food properly, but the medics say it is healed bueno.”
“OK – you got liaison. Try to duck faster this time, amigo, or Margareta will have my cojones for earrings in earnest this time!” A chuckle. “Del Toro, Smith – you are with Luis. Banish anything that comes within 50 feet of you and assist with comms as needed.” Del Toro nods, Smith just grunts.
“Ahitana, you and Flash have point, as usual. We'll be needing her senses for this one, at least five of the Reaver's retinue are only sporadically visible.” He nods, impassive. We have worked together many times, he knows the routine. Flash stretches, yawns, showing 6 centimetre long fangs, and wanders over to lick my face in greeting. I scratch her ears briefly, and she collapses on my feet with that buzzing growl cheetahs use instead of a purr. Rather painful, given her weight. Ahitana has an advantage that any Hunter would kill for – demons cannot sense him at all. Useful, since most demons are blind. “You will maintain position 3 meters in front of the main strike team.”
“Suilien, Franco, Hang. You are with me as main strike team. Protect Ahitana and Flash, and keep the small fry off my back.” My eyes rest on Suilien. “Suilien, bring your sword. You may get your chance if I miss, but I am relying on you to get our people out if the op fails.” She nods.
“Wickham, you are in charge of mop up. 20 Operatives – pair a low with a high to cover all eventualities. Make a fuss round the edges and get rid of as much of the retinue as you can. Peters – protective detail. Pick your Operatives and send them over to Toronto RRF as soon as possible. Find a pair of healers too – we'll need them.” Peters and Wickham move to a console and start calling up names.
“Right, ladies and gentlemen. One hour to absorb the briefing, then three hours free before we meet at dispatch. Do what you like in the three, I personally am going to get some sleep.” A laugh from the old hands, who know my habit of napping well. “Any questions?”
“Just one, sir.” Suilien look earnest. “Why do they call you Cat?”
“It is an old and bad joke, Suilien. From back in the 20th century. There was a singer called Cat Stevens, and a cartoon called Felix the Cat. Combine that with these …” I hold up my hand and send the command that pops the two cm long, razor sharp titanium claws through the calloused slits in my finger tips “and the name becomes obvious.”
I leave the room through a buzz of conversation and phone calls. One of the arts of leading a team is to pick the best people and let them get on with it. That is the easy bit. The hard bit will be watching them die tonight.
Sleep has never seemed so far away.
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