There was a noise, some movement, and a cough. “Francis?” The voice had come from the wall behind his back. “Is that you?”
“Yeah.” Francis had to be hallucinating from the head injury. Was there such a thing as auditory hallucinations? He didn’t rightly know. Getting hit so hard that you begin hearing dead people couldn’t be good. “Heinrich?”
“Mein Gott, it is you!” There was a scraping noise and the clank of chains. “They got you too.”
“You’re alive?”
The laugh was bitter. “For now, though I don’t know why.”
He was very excited to discover that one of his best friends had cheated death, but the circumstances of their reunion left something to be desired. Francis managed to turn his head far enough to see that there were small holes cut in the wall. His chains led through them, so he couldn’t fiddle with whatever they were tethered to. “You’ve got no idea how glad I am to find you. Where are we?”
Heinrich’s voice was coming through the holes. “I believe we are under OCI headquarters.”
“Hang on.” Francis concentrated on the light bulb to see if he could make it swing. Nothing. They had to be under the influence of one of Buckminster Fuller’s nullifiers. “Damn.”
“Using your magic? It doesn’t work here. A man named Crow said they have a device—”
“We’ve met. He’s the reason I’ve got a splitting headache.”
“A pleasant-enough sort, for a statist secret policeman. I believe he will kill us as soon as we are no longer of use.”
“He’s a demon,” Francis said.
“Indeed. His kind always are.”
“No. Literally. He’s a Summoned.”
Heinrich laughed. “You must have gotten hit very hard.”
“I heard from one of the new knights that’s with—”
The chains clanked. “Quiet! Speak of no one else. Do you think they put us where we can talk to each other by accident?”
Francis shut his mouth and studied the walls suspiciously. Heinrich was right. They were probably listening. “Sure . . . Never mind.”
“I was wondering why they finally gave me food and water . . . They wanted me strong enough to have a conversation.” Heinrich sounded very tired. “I’m sorry, Francis. It is too late for many. They made me talk. Drugs and magic. I don’t even remember, but they stole names right out of my mind. I don’t even know who for sure, but I’ve put them in danger. This Crow, demon or man, whatever he is, he’s clever.”
“Trust me. The bastard grows horns and can fly. How long have I been here anyway?”
“An hour, maybe, since I heard them drag you in and chain you up. Not too long.”
There was a ring of metal on metal as his door was unlocked. “Shhhh.”
The door swung open to reveal Crow. “Afternoon, Francis.”
“Go to hell, demon.”
“That’s not fair,” Crow said as he came into the room. The door was closed behind him and relocked by unseen staff. This bunch sure didn’t take any chances. He walked over and stood under the lightbulb, the brim of his hat shadowing his face. “I’m a person too. Born in Cleveland. Dad was a foundry worker. Mom died when I was little. Real sob story, you can fill in the blanks. I’m as much a human being as you are. Well, part of me at least. See . . .” Crow squatted down so they could see eye to red eye. He leaned in so close that Francis could smell the tobacco on his breath. “I’m just not as limited as you. I got more than one body that I can use. When one gets broken, I just get a new one . . .” Crow placed one finger softly on Francis’ cheek.
“Go fu—” And then Francis ground his teeth together as Crow slowly sliced his face open.
“You, on the other hand . . .” The demon rocked back on his haunches, examining his open hand. His fingers ended in black needle points. Crow licked the blood from one and smiled. “. . . are so fragile.”
Francis’ face burned. He could feel the heat of the blood dripping down his chin. “What do you want, asshole?”
“I knew you had some fire in you. Knew it from the beginning. What do I want? What was it again?” Crow cocked his head to the side until it was at an unnatural angle. “I want to drink your blood and eat your soul,” he hissed with a voice that was unlike any Francis had ever heard before. It made him think of rusty nails and dried snakeskin.
This was no act. Crow was losing his mind. Francis cringed away.
Crow stood up. His hand returned to normal as he looked toward a sound that Francis couldn’t hear yet. The metal bar clanked and the door opened again. A man stood there, tall and wide, with the broad shoulders of someone who’d been strong in his youth, but the muscle had long since turned to fat. Wearing a pinstriped suit and carrying an ornate cane, he appeared to be in his sixties, with a long white mustache and unfashionably large, old-fashioned sideburns. He came into the room and gave Crow a stern glance. “What are you doing here?”
Surprisingly, Crow dropped his head. “Questioning the prisoner, sir.”
“Get out,” the stranger ordered. He stepped out of the way and pointed his cane at the door. Crow strode from the room without another word. When he was gone, the stranger returned his attention to Francis. “My apologies, Mr. Stuyvesant. You see, Mr. Crow has been under a great deal of stress lately. I’m afraid it has been getting to him.”
“He’s insane.”
The man shook his head. “Only sometimes, and that is entirely dependent on the nature of the body that his mind is currently inhabiting. I’m afraid some can be worse than others.”
“He’s insane and he’s dangerous. You’re playing with fire.”
“Yes. Fire is dangerous, yet if man had never harnessed its power we would still be living in caves. Electricity is dangerous.” He reached up with his cane and tapped the light, making it swing and cast wild shadows. “Yet, we harness it for all of our modern technological marvels. Why, Mr. Stuyvesant, should magic be any different?”
The odd fellow seemed vaguely familiar. “Do I know you?”
“We’ve met briefly, but it was a very long time ago.” He rested his weight on the cane, and took a white handkerchief out of his suit to wipe the sweat from his face. “Excuse me. Far too many stairs for a man in my condition. I should have an elevator installed. Yes, we have met. You were but a child. I knew your father, was friends with one of your uncles, and an acquaintance of your grandfather.” He started to put the handkerchief away, then took note of the cut on Francis’ face. Clucking disapprovingly, he came over and gently pressed the cloth against the cut. “Oh, Mr. Crow . . . He’s something of a project of mine. Here, keep pressure on that.”
There was just enough slack in the chain for Francis to tilt his head and keep the handkerchief in place to stop the bleeding. He winced as the cut burned. “Who are you?”
“Bradford Carr. Do you remember now?”
Francis was drawing a blank. “What are you?”
He chuckled. “I’ve held a few titles in my day. In my military days it was only captain. For the longest time it was doctor, or professor of magical studies at the University of Chicago, briefly ambassador. Most recently, it has been senator, and since last summer when Herbert Hoover saw fit to the appointment, I have been the Coordinator of Information. I was, after all, the most qualified applicant for the position, since I have made the study of magic my life’s work. However, since my current assignment is one of utmost secrecy, let’s just keep that between ourselves.” Carr smiled. “Does that answer your question, Mr. Stuyvesant?”
Now he remembered. Carr hadn’t been as grey or as fat back when Francis’ father had replaced him as ambassador to Japan. He too, had known about the Chairman’s schools. “You dirty bastard. You were on the Imperium payroll, too.”
Carr clucked disapprovingly. “You’re smarter than that, Mr. Stuyvesant. Do not make the mistake of thinking that just because I studied the Imperium ways, meant that I was in their service. I had a friendly relationship with the Chairman, and
of course many of the things I observed went unreported, but that was necessary to further my own research into the nature of magic. The Nipponese were merely unafraid to delve into mysteries that my own countrymen would not. As a scientist and a philosopher, I would have been foolish to ignore all of the valuable knowledge they’d gained.”
“The Imperium schools are evil!” Francis shouted. He’d seen the horrors with his own eyes. There had been torturous ordeals to bind nonmagical people to the Power, and even worse experiments to create stronger Actives. His family hadn’t cared, as long as the gold kept flowing, and that’s what had driven Francis away from them and toward the Grimnoir, who were brave enough to do something about it. “Anyone who can’t see that is a fool.”
“The Imperium schools are a necessary evil. The Power must be studied, harnessed, and controlled for the good of all mankind. It is selfish to think otherwise. Power is a resource that must be properly managed, just like any other. If a nation cannot control its own resources, then it will fall into the dustbin of history.”
“Those are people you’re talking about, not some nebulous things.”
“Exactly, my boy!” Carr wagged his cane at Francis. “And that’s why the United States has lagged so far behind others in this regard. We, as a government, have lacked the will to take control for the greater good because of a naive faith in the individual. As it stands now, all of our useful magic is being squandered on foolish pursuits. Wasted by individuals who think only of themselves and not of the rest of society. Just imagine what could be accomplished if these resources were managed in a scientific way!”
“You mean slavery.”
“An emotionally loaded choice of words.”
“You take someone’s freedom and tell them what to do. Sounds like slavery to me.”
“I’m talking about the greater good, for both normal mortals.” Carr touched one big hand to his chest, “and you! This is for your own protection. An individual with magic is capable of causing much harm. They are dangerous at worst and wasted at best. I have a vision for a greater tomorrow, where the miraculous Power is used for the betterment of all. My vision—”
“Like the Imperium? Like the Soviets? Are you going to cull the herd like them? Experiment on the weak? Breed the strong?” Francis was furious. “The unworthy go to the schools or the gulag? Fuck your vision.”
Heinrich’s voice came through the wall. “We had a politician who preached eugenic nonsense like this in Germany; Hitler was the name, if I recall it right. We put him against a wall and gave him the firing squad. I’d suggest we take up that tradition here, Francis.”
Francis looked Carr squarely in the eye. “That sounds like a fine idea, Heinrich.”
Carr’s face turned red. “I was hoping for the sake of your family name that you would listen to reason. Your father was a fine man. I felt I owed him enough to at least try.”
Francis was no politician or philosopher, but he had a finely tuned sense when it came to detecting bullshit. “Your reason, science, whatever you want to call it, is a sham, a two-bit hustler’s scheme. This is America. The government doesn’t own the people. The people own the government.”
“You would be surprised to learn how many very important men disagree with you on that point, Mr. Stuyvesant. Once my operations are complete, the rest will have no choice but to come around. They will come to understand that Actives must be controlled. It only takes one great visionary to change the course of a nation.”
It all became clear. The assassin’s ring, the mystery spell, the newspapers, the manhunt, everything. “You’re the one who set us up . . . You’re the one who tried to kill the president.”
“If only that had been enough.” Carr just smiled. “Recent events have forced me to expand my ambitions. It seems that this deadly Grimnoir terrorist group is not happy that they failed in their last attack. I have warned the cabinet that we believe they are plotting another attack sometime very soon. I’m sure it will end tragically.”
“You bastard!”
“Would you like a preview of the newspapers a few days from now? I find I’m rather good at predicting these sorts of things.” Carr cleared his throat. “Many innocents were murdered by mad Actives last night. Luckily, during the aftermath of the attack, two leaders of the foul Grimnoir organization were intercepted and killed by brave OCI operatives. One of them had a manifesto on his person detailing how they would continue to kill Normals until the Active race rises up, throws off the shackles of oppression, and takes their rightful place as world leaders, since they are the superior evolution of man. Everyone will be shocked and saddened to discover that this cabal is being led by a well known industrialist, Francis Cornelius Stuyvesant.”
Francis was so angry he couldn’t form coherent words and instead emitted a growling noise.
“The rich make such convenient villains, don’t you think? Half of society already hates you for the station you were born into. Your peers will be embarrassed that you’ve endangered the status quo. Your name will become a symbol synonymous with tyranny. It is already in the papers how some of your underlings tried to enlist Smedly Butler’s help in overthrowing the government.”
“Who?”
“That’s priceless,” Carr chuckled. “A political opponent of mine, a retired general with far too much integrity to ever fall in with such a plot. Oh, but questions will remain. How deep do the roots of your cancerous organization grow? Everyone knows when you pull weeds, if you only take the top, they grow back. You must dig up the roots. Drastic measures must be taken to find all of the Grimnoir sympathizers amongst the Active race. Controls will need to be put into place, for the greater good. Once it begins, it will not end.”
Francis threw himself against the chains. They didn’t budge. “You’ll not get away with this! Someone will find out the truth.”
“Who? If your allies come here they will be walking directly into a trap that Mr. Crow has very capably set, and I’ll have more Grimnoir bodies to deposit at the scene. None of my men will talk. The majority of OCI’s staff are simple recruits who know nothing of my plans. They are pawns that I will use to round up those that trouble me. The men I have stationed here are absolutely loyal, hand-picked because of their personal hatred for your kind, and they are as committed as I am. No one will talk. None of my colleagues know my plans, and even my political enemies would never guess how far I am willing to go . . . That’s because they don’t get the big picture.”
“You’re going to pay.”
“You are in no position to make threats. I tire of this.” Carr walked over and rapped his cane on the door. It was opened for him. “Goodbye, Mr. Stuyvesant. We will not meet again. You will be dead in a few days.” He strolled out of view and the door slammed shut behind. The heavy latch fell into place.
Francis waited to make sure Carr was gone. “Heinrich?”
“We are in far more trouble than I thought, my friend.”
Crow waited for his superior in the hall. He knew he was in trouble. The boss had seen him losing his cool. This was only a minor Summoned, but it was a mean one. The alien thoughts were pushed back to the rear of their shared mind, but they were all about stalking and killing prey. Back when this particular Summoned had its own form, it must have been quite the vicious little predator. That was completely unacceptable. If he got in any more trouble, the boss would yank the spell he’d been given. Crow was not ready to go back to being a nobody.
Fuming, the fat man hobbled down the hall on his cane, flanked by his two personal bodyguards, Sharps and Deych. They were Normals, but they were both bruisers and handy with gun or blade. Like the rest of the men stationed at headquarters, they were magic haters, recruited personally by the Coordinator from various militant anti-Active groups, like Humans Only or the League for a Magic-Free America. They hated Crow as much as they hated all Actives, but as long as he was seen as the Coordinator’s tool, they left him alone. These men were scum, but they were reliable scum. Th
ey’d caught the Coordinator’s vision for the future.
Crow didn’t give a shit about anybody’s grand dreams. He played a part, and in exchange got something that benefited him. Right now he was going to have to play the part of eating some humble pie.
“Sir, I’m—”
The Coordinator raised one bushy eyebrow suspiciously. “It’s quite all right, Mr. Crow. I assume you were just putting the proper amount of fear into the boy—correct?”
That was a surprisingly opportune way out. Doctor Carr had to know the truth, he was way too smart not to, but for whatever reason he was letting it go. “Yes, sir.” He looked over at the bodyguards. Even wearing the body of a lesser Summoned, he would have easily been able to whip them and get away. However, the Coordinator knew where his real body lived, and knowing the old man, he’d probably hedged his bets. This was his lucky day after all. “Just scaring him a little to get him ready for you.”
“Excellent work. However, the Stuyvesant predilection for self-preservation must have skipped a generation. His forbears would have leapt at any out I offered to save their own skins. The boy is an obstinate fool. We’ll use him as we discussed. Have you had any luck capturing any of the others?”
“Not yet, but I’ve baited the trap.”
“Walk with me.” The bodyguards fell in behind them. “You used the Justice?”
“I gave her just enough rope to hang herself. She plays like she’s hard, but she’s too much of a goody-two-shoes at heart. She knows about the German and she knows we’ve got exonerating evidence. She went off the reservation a little while ago, which means now they know too. The Grimnoir will try something. I guarantee it.”