Chinooks flying over Exeter aren’t as rare as you might think. For some reason they fly around quite often. Which was a plus. On the other hand, chinooks swooping low over the M5 and landing at Middlemoor, headquarters for Devon and Cornwall Constabulary, was not something which would escape the notice of locals or what passed for the local newspaper.
Still, there was an agreed cover story that a disaster recovery exercise was being carried out, and the Masking spell would hide the true nature of the beings in the vehicles that would be disgorged.
‘That is a bloody big helicopter!’ yelled Ragnhild as the appropriately named Wyrm 1 came in to land.
I couldn’t disagree. We’d been explicitly warned to stand clear of the engine exhaust of the aircraft it could apparently cause burns, and the downdraft was incredible.
Part of the Joint Special Forces Aviation Wing, flying from RAF Odiham, Wyrm 1 was part of Wyvern Squadron, known by the Mundanes as 699 Squadron. Its nose code had a red triangular shield, with a golden wyvern in the centre.
‘Prepare yourselves,’ said Marcus. ‘You’re going to meet some real characters shortly.’
Which was saying something considering the characters we’d already met.
As he spoke, the rear door of the chinook lowered, its blades not even stopping as its cargo disgorged. A group of smartly dressed men and women made their way directly down the ramp, followed by a larger group of uniformed men and woman carrying various boxes of all sorts and sizes.
Matte black Landrover Defender 110s raced across to the landing strip, the lead group of men and women climbing into the front two, whilst the others started loading up the other Land Rovers.
‘That’s our cue,’ said Marcus. ‘Time for us to go.’
‘Where to?’ I asked, wincing at how bumpkin I sounded at that moment.
*
“Where” was a warehouse on a nearby industrial estate had been acquired to house Team Ness until they were needed. From the outside it looked like a cold storage plant, replete with a small guard house, loading docks, and enough fencing and barbed wire to keep out a zombie horde. There were even a couple of refrigerated lorries parked outside.
Inside was a completely different matter. Aside from a large garage, it had a secure armoury, kitchen, cafeteria, a well-appointed clubhouse and bar, and enough rooms to house our small army in comfort. I was impressed. And annoyed.
‘This has been here all the bloody time, and you didn’t think to tell me?’ I asked Marcus once I’d managed to gather my wits.
‘It’s a need-to-know kind of place. You didn’t need know until now,’ he said, completely unabashed.
Ragnhild laid a hand on my shoulder, stopping me from saying something stupid. Or more stupid. I filed my thoughts away for the future. I didn’t like that Marcus would keep such things a secret from me, as a facility like this would have been handy to know about.
‘Perhaps we should meet our guests?’ she suggested, pointing in the direction of a very stern-looking woman.
‘Colonel June Merryweather,’ said the lady. ‘I’d say it was a pleasure meeting you, but under the circumstances that would be a gross overstatement.’ Her eyes were just as cold as her tone.
Cold-hearted bitch, I thought. The woman had decided to start things off combatively. And that, in my opinion, was decidedly unprofessional.
‘Welcome, Colonel Merryweather,’ said Marcus holding out his hand, ‘I’m the designated Handler for this Mark.’
She shook it once. A hard, downward motion that both pulled him off balance, and in towards her. I decided at that moment that she and I weren’t going to be friends. Her face was gaunt, and it was hard to put an age on her. Granted, the appearance of age didn’t really count for much in the Magical world, but I’d have said she could have been anywhere between 40 or 60. Her hair was short, cut into a somewhat severe bob on the back and sides, whilst allowed to grow slightly longer on top. As to colour, it was a nondescript, dirty blonde. Her skin was slightly sallow, and she wore a permanent look of disapproval. She was not the sort of person I would want to serve under. Or work alongside for too long. Still, Dawn always had pointed out that I can be a bit shallow when it comes to first impressions, so I was willing to wait and see.
‘I take it you’re the infamous Jane Doe. Congratulations on your failure thus far to capture the killer.’
On second thoughts, she could go fuck herself.
I offered my hand, saying nothing until she took it. As soon as she did, I laid my first two fingers onto the inside of her wrist. It was a trick I learned whilst studying gatka, my grandfather’s Sikh martial art. Doing so prevented the person holding your hand from crushing it in a hard grip. I don’t know why it worked, but it had served me well in the past just as it was now.
I also stepped forward before she could pull me in, closing the gap and standing in her personal space. I could see she was just itching to take a step back.
Forehead creased she applied as much pressure into the shake as possible whilst being able to remain outwardly cool. I arched an eyebrow as her frown deepened. I could see the strain as she tried to exert more pressure. I felt nothing apart from the warm glow of “fuck you” smugness.
‘Delighted to meet you, Colonel. I’ve heard a lot about the Team Ness Seelie unit. You’re legends. Let’s hope you’re able to get a better grip on things,’ I said with my biggest smiles and an arched eyebrow. Got to love the Rock. Arched eyebrows are perfect for letting people know any manner of things, including that you don’t give a shit.
‘Quite,’ she said finally breaking off the shake.
‘Hello, I’m Ragnhild,’ said Ragnhild as she extended her hand. She towered over the Colonel, and I smiled as she didn’t even attempt to exert her power on my girlfriend. I smiled widely at that thought.
‘Ah, the foreign freelancer. I’ve heard a lot of good things from Norwegian special forces. Seems you served a few tours with them over in Afghanistan.’
I turned to look at Ragnhild. That was something she had not mentioned and hadn’t been something I’d seen on her file. There’s need to know and there’s need to know it seemed. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
‘I was nothing. A few Djinn that needed taking down before our regular forces could sweep the area and carry out peacekeeping duties. I wasn’t alone either.’
‘No, you weren’t, but your file mentioned three bravery awards where you were the key factor in denying the enemy their objectives. And you saved your commanding officer from a particularly tight spot. We’ll have to have a drink and discuss that at some point.’ Merryweather smiled, the first that I’d seen since we’d met her, and I felt my fists tighten as the green demon hit hard.
‘I’ll enjoy that,’ said Ragnhild. I felt a knuckle pop as my hand tightened even further.
‘Come and met the rest, of the team. They should be squared away and waiting in the common room.’ Merryweather led us through the facility into the large common room. It was well appointed with thick leather chairs, plenty of tables and a bar that looked as though it had been stocked by someone who loved their gins and whiskies.
Her team, the core Seelie members were all sat in various areas nursing drinks. None of them had gone for wine or beer. Spirits only these people.
I did a quick scan, taking each and every one of the team in before Merryweather even had time to start talking. Nearest to use was a pair of Shadow Aelfs. From the tattoos and their common looks they were related, which wasn’t uncommon. The younger siblings in an Aelf House were usually not expected to assume any duties nor to receive any inheritance and so had to find their own means of living. If they were close, they would often do this together. I put these two as sisters, possibly even twins they resembled each other that much.
The next made me gasp. Easily eight feet tall, he was a Cyclops, not something that was an everyday sight anywhere. He’d shaved his head so looked like an thumb with one eye. It was disconcerting, but not as disconcerting as the ugly red scar which ran from seven o’clock to two o’clock across this face. How he hadn’t lost his eye I didn’t know.
Sat with him were two redcaps and the sight of them made my hackles rise. They really weren’t the sort of people you’d expect in a crack military unit, especially not one which was supposed to be composed of good guys. It was a sign as to just how fucked up things were if they were willing to set a pair of Redcaps loose against DuCrow.
A couple of Orcs were sat at another table, drinking pints of whisky. Their tattoos marked them as being from the same clan, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember which one it was. Both were incredibly well muscled, something which was evidenced by the bare arms sticking out of their sleeveless tops.
Across from them was a dwarf. Her beard was utterly glorious and, somewhat incongruously, sprinkled with golden fairy dust. She was busy entertaining a couple of Fae by juggling two combat tomahawks.
The Fae were an interesting addition, and I immediately pegged them as being part of the team’s recon section. They seemed to be highly amused by the dwarf’s antics and were joining in by zipping in and out of the axes’ flight paths. Judging by the fact that they weren’t immediately killed, I reckoned that this was something they did on a regular basis. If it was designed to impress the civilians – us – then it worked.
Further into the room were two humans, both men and looking to be in their mid-to-late 20’s. They had the hard look of men who had seen a little bit too much action for their own good. One was a Fire Mage, clicking his fingers and conjuring a small flame whilst he read from a kindle held in his other hand. The other looked like a hawk. Literally. I don’t know how to better describe him other than that he appeared as if he could spot his prey from a mile off and swoop down to devour it. His head moved like a bird’s when it turned to regard us. Even the way he blinked was off. Perhaps he wasn’t human after all.
Beyond them, an Asian woman sat talking with a Silky. They seemed to be incredibly animated about whatever it was. Looking at the Asian woman’s hand markings, I realised that she was a member of the Clan Werewolf Killers, a Seelie sub-unit with one of the most spectacularly unoriginal names, but which had battle honours the world over. A specialist amongst specialists. If she couldn’t take down DuCrow, I didn’t know who could.
The Silky was beautiful. In her human form she had wide eyes that appeared to be so deep you could swim in them. When she smiled, I could see rows of sharp teeth.
Why did they always have to have so many sharp teeth? I thought. It seemed to be common theme. On the whole, Magical creatures tended to be predators. Which probably explained why Mundanes had such huge problems with them.
The final member of the team was a huge bear of a mean. And by bear, I meant Were-bear. He had thick, brown shoulder-length hair, a beard which reached down to his chest and thick muscled forearms which were as covered in hair as his head. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought that he was already Were’d, rather than being just a very hirsute guy indeed.
‘Jane! Good to see you!’ and right at the back of the room, as if they’d been purposefully put there to remind them of their status were the survivors of Team Six. Thankfully, they looked pleased to see us. And I was certainly happy to see them. I owed Hart, Perseus and Koric a debt I thought I’d never be able to repay.
All conversation stopped at that moment, and every eye of Team Ness turned to regard us. Not one of them looked friendly. The Silky looked positively angry, and I could see resentment in a few other’s eyes as well.
‘Please, stay seated,’ I said, not that any of them had shown any inclination to stand. ‘Under Directive 51, I’m technically your commanding officer.’ Merryweather spluttered at that, completely wrong footed by my sudden, and obviously unexpected assumption of command. As an Agent I was usually outside of the normal table of organisation of any unit; military or otherwise, but I could, by using the little- known Directive 51 assume command.
Directive 51 gave the ranking Agent – me – the ability to command any and all resources if the Mark proved to be of sufficient danger to the Magical and Mundane communities. I hadn’t needed to invoke it when taking down the cult because Dawn and I had been perfectly able to deal with it. But now I’d lost my apprentice, Seelies had been killed, and the Magical and Mundane communities were very much focussed on the issue, I was able to use it.
This was the first time I’d ever used it. Normally I’m happy to be me and to let others do what they needed to do, but Merryweather had well and truly rubbed me up the wrong way and her team’s aggressive attitude and lack of common manners had been the straw that broke the camel’s back.
I caught Marcus’ eye and could have sworn he was hiding a smirk. He gave a miniscule bow of the head, and I felt a pressure I wasn’t aware of until then release.
‘I’ll be letting Colonel Merryweather run you as normal, but please bear in mind that I outrank her, and naturally all of you. So, the next time I enter this or any room, I expect you up and out of those chairs so fast I won’t even know you were sitting. Am I clear?’
Deafening silence.
‘I’m sorry, perhaps I wasn’t clear. I’m your commanding officer, as of now, and I expect every courtesy to be extended to the rank, if not the person. Am. I. Clear?
‘You are, ma’am,’ Merryweather replied through gritted teeth. ‘Team, attention!’
Give them their due, they snapped to their feet and assumed a perfect parade-ground attention.
‘Thank you, at ease all. Captain Hart, if I could speak to you and your team?’
Hart’s eyes narrowed slightly as the eyes of Ness shifted towards her whilst they all sat down.
‘Certainly ma’am, please, join us.’
I walked over to them, pulling over a couple of chairs for myself and Ragnhild to sit in. Perseus naturally stayed standing. As soon as we were seated, conversation resumed. Merryweather had joined the Silky and her Asian friend.
‘First of all, I am so sorry for your loss. I know what I say will never bring Ox or Park back, but their bravery kept me and the people I care most about alive,’ I said.
‘Appreciated, Agent Doe,’ said Hart. ‘That bastard’s going to pay when we get our hands on him.’ The others growled their agreement.
‘That he is, that he is,’ I glanced around the room. ‘What can you tell me about this lot?’
‘They’re pissed off. They were engaged in another operation and think that being pulled off it to fix what they think are your problems, especially after two of our own were killed, is a load of bullshit,’ said Hart. ‘Personally, I think their pride is bent out of shape because they’ve been called in to carry out a policing role. Team Ness, never, carries out such roles.’
‘Their pride hasn’t been bent out of shape,’ said Perseus. ‘We’ve never lost members of our teams when the odds have been so much in our favour. Even when we’re outnumbered, we rarely lose one of our own. They’re … scared.’
I nodded, realising that the hostility I thought I’d perceived had really been a display of fear by beings who thought that they were nearly immortal. One Werewolf had ripped their unit’s reputation into shreds and planted a seed of doubt in minds which they were doing their best to now allow to grow any further.
We talked some more, but I could tell they were still mourning their friends and wanted to be able to get on with a heavy drinking session in their honour, so I thanked them, promised we’d speak another time, and moved into a corner of the room.