The noise that came from the failing tower didn’t make a noise like stone, but ice; the sound of the leading edge of a glacier that’s reached a coastal cliff, groaning under the pressures of gravity in the moments before calfing an iceberg.
Strained pieces cracked apart, the sound thrumming across the traffic circle and into the core of every person watching until they could feel it in the churning of their stomach, the beat of their heart. Rubble fell down into the tower’s footprint and rebounded off of what was already there until the entire structure became an avalanche lit from within by faltering blue-silver light. Every time the light flickered, the rocks were pushed outward from the center as if by a pulsing heart residing there.
There was no dust, only rocks tumbling, rolling, bounding as the fell into a jostling heap.
It was over in minutes, and as soon as the rubble settled, Occult broke into a run toward it.
Before she got more than a few steps, she found that she wasn’t alone; Facsimile swooped down to land, running beside her.
“Wait.” The golden heroine said, easily keeping pace. “I don’t think you want to find what’s under there.”
Occult didn’t listen. She reached the ruins of the tower and vaulted up it, using her staff to balance on the shifting stones. “You don’t think I know that?” She asked, unable to keep herself from sounding hostile. “But I can’t let the rescue crews pull her out—they’ll think she was Morganna and then…”
More than anything, she didn’t want to talk about it. Reaching the center, she cast her staff aside and started throwing rocks aside with her bare hands. Soon, she found a set of huge, gold-furred mole claws assisting her in the task.
“You don’t have to…”
“The hell I don’t.” said Facsimile. “Like I’m going to sit here and let you dig until your hands are bloody when I can help?”
Occult lowered her head. “Right. Thank you.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before a chunk of wall beside her was shoved away by a mass of blue psychokinetic energy. Not long after, black heat and a small, compact whirlwind were in on the act as well. Behind her, Occult heard Codex talking to both the crowd and the police, telling them to stay back. No doubt, she was being aided by mood control and telepathy.
It seemed like forever, but eventually, they uncovered a hump of dark, polished stone.
“What’s that?” Zero asked, landing next to Occult.
An obstacle. Occult thought darkly and wished she could just smash it out of the way. “I have no idea. It’s to far up to be the seed. Part of the ritual, maybe?”
“Whatever it is, it’s in the way.” said Facsimile. “Is it safe to move?”
Occult cast a quick spell to assess it. “There’s no sort of active spell on it. Just be careful.”
So Facsimile wedged her claws under one edge and set her strength against the solid stone. With a massive effort, and Darkness lending her black heat to lighten the load, she flipped it out of the way with a resounding thud.
What was beneath stopped all activity on the pile of rubble as everyone sucked in a nervous breath.
A woman lay prostrate and naked on the broken stone. Her blonde locks fanned out around her head and sparkling drops of blue liquid slowly sublimated from her pale skin. Ice blue eyes stared into the sky for a moment before screwing shut against the brightness.
Seconds later, she shook with a cough and rolled onto her side to vomit up more of the blue substance. The process left her breathing hard and trying to gather her thoughts.
“Don’t. Move.” Darkness had whipped off her scarf and manipulated it into a bo staff. The weapon was held in a ready stance for quick strikes. The others were no less prepared to deal with any threat the woman could offer.
“Wha?” the woman said, looking up in confusion. “Wait, no!” She tried to sit up, realized that could be seen as threatening and let herself fall back to the rocks. Only then did she realize her state of undress and did her best to cover herself with her hands.
“I’m not her, I swear!” Then she paused and actually took stock of herself and the cascade of blonde hair that had fallen into her face. “Oh. Oh, my. How did this happen?!”
“It’s got to be Morganna, she’s talking crazy.” Facsimile guessed.
“But not Morganna crazy.” Occult shook her head, worried that she was being too hopeful. Carefully, she knelt in front of the panicking woman. “If you aren’t Morganna, tell me something only you would know. Something about your favorite niece.”
Breathing hard, the woman stared into the glamor-wrought void beneath Occult’s hood. Tears started to well in her eyes and the ghost of a smile started to form on her face. “Your best friend when you were four.” She paused to cough up more blue droplets, “It was a fluffy green hand towel you called Scribbles.”
Fondness filled her teary eyes, “Your parents kept buying you stuffed toys, but no, you just wanted Scribbles. I bet you’ve still got him in your closet.”
Tension broke somewhere in Occult’s chest; a day of pain and confusion and heartache washed away n that single instant. She threw herself at the blonde woman and wrapped her arms around her, sobbing. “Aunt Tay!”
Tatiana Farnsworth, in mind and spirit if not in body, gladly returned the hug. “I missed you so much, mi linda.”
For a long moment, they stayed like that, but reality soon returned: they were in a pit of rubble and still in the aftermath of a massive supernatural event. Reluctantly, they backed out of the hug and Occult asked the obvious question. “What happened?”
Her aunt shook her head. “I couldn’t tell you. I remember trying to stop her. It felt like I was putting myself in her way and then the ceiling exploded. Seeing as I’m here now, I guess I went into her body in her place.”
“It looks like Morganna got away.” Both women looked up to see that it was Chaos who had spoken. Surprisingly, he didn’t sound bitter this time, just stating an unfortunate fact. He took off his cape and draped it over Tatiana’s back.
She nodded her thanks and pulled the heavy garment around her. “The important part is that she doesn’t have what she wants.”
Occult gave her aunt another hug. “No, the important part is that she doesn’t have you.”
When they broke apart again, Tatiana smiled at her niece and then looked at the others gathered around. “Thank you. All of you; for saving me. I’m not sure if that’s such a good thing though… I feel the power Morganna was after. She’s not going to stop coming for it, and I’m not sure I can control it.”
Occult put her hand on her aunt’s shoulder. “Believe it or not, we’ve got the second part covered. WE came here in the first place to start kind of a social network for people with magic powers to help each other. Believe me when I say you’ll have a lot of help with this.”
“Not just her.” Darkness said, “All of us. You’re right; Morganna won’t stop coming; but when she comes again, she’ll have one hell of a fight on her hands.”
***
Codex slouched in her seat in the Karasu no Yūrei’s cockpit, moving data around on her tablet. She was so focused on her work that she didn’t hear Chaos approach until he announced himself.
“Long day. Fought what is probably our most dangerous enemy, caused extensive property damage, and our little sorceress made some new friends.”
“You sound awfully chipper, considering how much you hate magic and Morganna.” Codex observed without looking up, though she did smile.
Chaos leaned back and swiveled his seat to look at the closed door. In the passenger cabin, Occult and her aunt were still catching up. Tatiana had been missing for two years, after all. “I can’t not be happy with the result. Morganna and her knights have escaped before, but her plan failed, so it’s a win. Besides, Lisa’s got her aunt back and that’s worth being on the receiving end of The Blockade’s patented Trauma Slam.”
That got Codex to look at him. “’Trauma Slam’? The Blockade? Isn’t that from wrestling?”
“I never said I was a rabid fan or anything, but I’ve caught enough to know that the male half of the Knights Amore Detestabilis is Wayne Micheal Jones, AKA pro wrestling’s own ‘the Blockade’.” Chaos shrugged and tried to get comfortable in the seat. His costume didn’t fit right without the weight of his cape.
“Definitely something we can look into.” said Codex, “If we can find out how Morganna is forcing them to do her dirty work, we might be able to get them to break from her.”
Finally semi-comfortable, Chaos pointed at the tablet. “So what are you doing?”
“Making an identity. For obvious reasons, Tatiana Farnsworth can’t use her old one. So I’m building a new one. She was feeling spiteful, so her new name will be Elise Hafren, Morganna’s real name.” She showed him the screen.
“I honestly didn’t see it coming that she had a real person name.”
Returning to her work, Codex shrugged. “It does make sense after the fact though. In the early Arthurian Legend, Morgan was a completely sane ally; it wasn’t until later writers changed things around that she became a villainess, so if there even was a historical Morgan le Fay, she wouldn’t be anything like Morganna. But do you want to hear something scary?”
“Scarier than what we just went through?”
“Depends on your point of view.” said Codex, “But think about this: I remember from a lit course I took in college: a Marcus of Hafren was a peer, of Geoffrey of Monmouth; some say, he might have been the person to first tell him about the legend that later solidified into the Arthurian portion of Monmouth’s Matter of Britain.”
Chaos affected a shiver. “That’s not pleasant to think about. So Morganna’s his… sister, mother?”
“No idea. But again, something to look into.” said Codex, then she sighed. “We have a lot to look into; these new mages, Tatiana’s powers, and let’s not forget, we still don’t know who told Tome where the kids were going this summer.”
“Too many people know who we are.” Chaos groaned. “Even if Pratt is clean, the ROCIC is a huge organization; anyone could have pulled our files. Hell, Tome knows who we are.”
“But not what we’re doing every step of the way.” Codex pointed out. “I scramble all of our communications and obfuscate financial transactions. Whoever knew where the beach house was had to have known directly.”
“You’re not accusing their friends in this.” Chaos said bluntly. “What, you think Lisa or Kay is a mole? Yeah, they’re new, but they’re good kids.”
“Good kids can be pressured, Ian, just like anyone else. If someone had a knife to Alexis’s throat and you couldn’t stop it, what would you do to keep her safe?”
Chaos’s face darkened and he let out a long, slow breath. “You’re going to do it whether I’m okay with it or not. Fine. Look into them, look into the kids they’re all dating too. And your internet boyfriend too.”
“Voice is not my boyfriend.” Codex sniffed, “He’s in love with someone else.”
“I was talking about the programmer geek that works on the Deathgate games, but it’s interesting to immediately thought of him…” Chaos mused His mirth was short lived. “But everyone means everyone, L. I don’t want this hanging over all of our heads. And I do mean everyone—that includes family as well as friends.”
***
“Try it now!” Al Tyson’s voice came from below, echoing slightly in the confines of the tiny piloting cabin.
Sean McAllister checked the hand drawn schematic taped to the side of his canopy display, then grabbed the proper control lever, flipping the toggle on the side in the process. The entire fourteen foot frame of the mecha hummed as the system powered up. Indicators flashed green on the display.
“I’ve got power.”
There was a clatter below, and the perpetually red face of Al Tyson appeared on the screen showing the view from the forward cameras. “Punch it now, let’s see how she fires!”
With another glance at the schematic, Sean grasped the handle again and lifted it out of the neutral position. The whole machine swayed as the left arm came up, following the same arc he moved the handle in. A red targeting reticule popped up on the display to show where the arm’s primary weapon was pointed. He picked out a likely tree across the lit clearing from him and squeezed the trigger.
Power surged in the arm, but then came a series of crackling pops before all the lights in the cabin went dark.
“God damn it, not again!” He bellowed, already tugging at his seat harness. Al scrambled down the scaffolding just in time to miss being hit by the front of the mecha as Sean threw it open. “You told me you fixed the wiring!”
Al retreated to the relative safety of where his brother, Joe was waiting with Billy Jolson. Joe was shorter than his younger brother, but much wider, but with the same red face. He scratched idly at his short, graying beard as he watched.
“I tried.” said Al. “It wouldn’t be causing any problem if you didn’t want it to be so powerful. You don’t need that big a shock to drop someone.”
Sean finished his trek down the scaffold and spat. “For a normal human, maybe, but for a psionic? You don’t know what we’ll end up going against. Just get as much juice in it as possible.” Billy, a man whose face consisted of two squinted eyes and a short, flat nose struggling to show through thick, black beard and hair, handed him a beer.
Swigging the beer and throwing himself into the folding chair set up around what served as their planning table, Sean gestured at the mecha. “Besides that, how long until we’re ready to pay a visit to Mayfield?”
Al surveyed the six towering machines. “Structure’s good, most of the weapons are done… give me a couple weeks to armor ’em and we’re good to go.”
Joe ran his hand through what little hair he had left. “We still need a sixth man.”
“Six?” Sean asked, pleased, “So Zeke’s in?” Joe nodded.
“I know where we can get a sixth.” Billy said, speaking so quickly that it made them look at him skeptically. He failed to meet any of their eyes. “Just trust me, alright? They hate psionics as much as ya’ll. Probably more.”
Sean took another pull of his beer. “All that matters. Bring him here next week so we can show ’em the controls and make sure he’s really up for it.”
A cruel smile curled his lips. “God knows I’ve been up for this a long, long time.”
Landon Porter is the author of The Descendants and Rune Breaker. Follow him on Twitter @ParadoxOmni or sign up for his newsletter.
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