Chapter 8: Official Business: Part Two
The first title drew a smile to my face as I saw it.
JOAN OF ARC SPOTTED IN FRANCE!!!! Breaking news, France’s most famous saint might really be on Earth!
For a moment I was tempted to open the page and see if there was anything there about me, but I moved on to the more general stuff, the threads that had been opened over the last week, not the last few minutes. Sure, there were loads of them, so I’d just read the ones that got the most hits, the ones that had the most traction
News from China! Official international investigators will be allowed in to assess the state of human rights and population condition!
Okay, that was good news. Hopefully getting some official eyes into the nation now run by the Celestial Bureaucracy would do something to reduce international tension. Far too many nations were on a hair-trigger since China was taken over. The only reason that war hadn’t broken out was that the fall of the Chinese government had shown just how futile it was to go up against gods with the weapons mankind had. Getting eyes in there . . . I hoped it would do some good.
Further conflict erupts in Africa as demigod warlords clash in efforts to expand territory!
Not good. Central and southern Africa had been consumed by an almost non-stop war since the first demigods revealed themselves. It started with just two of them, but more had shown up as time passed. Other countries were more than happy for their ambitious demigods to go somewhere else to cause general mayhem, but for the people there it had to be hell. The only reason most of central and southern Africa hadn’t been reduced to a wasteland was that several of the demigods involved had powers that let them restore the land and even rebuild villages and towns. Some new kingdoms were managing to endure and gain traction, but it looked like the fighting hadn’t gotten any calmer while I was gone.
Not good, but probably not something I had to worry about right now.
New developments in Hollywood! Olympus Industries opens up a new studio branch! Will more gods take the big screen by storm?
Secret antigod weapons research in Arizona leaked?
Both of those were over in America, so again, not my concern right now. Though I did make a note to look up the updaye later. I was a fan of Apollo’s films, so more of the same could only be a good thing in my opinion.
Killings in Spanish middle school might have connections with new cult worshipping an unknown god!
Okay, that was closer to home and pretty damned horrible. I opened it up and had a quick look, after all, Spain wasn’t too far from where I was, especially if you brought powers into the mix. Thisbeing connected to Joan’s Oracle wasn’t impossible.
A quick read left me pretty sure it wasn’t something I’d be having to deal with though. According to the info it looked like the ‘cult’ was a group of antisocial types that had gotten together and ended up feeding on each other’s resentment in the worst way possible. According to the article the ‘cult’ was either dead or in prison, things mostly settled. There was something about the upcoming trial, but nothing that hinted anything was unresolved. Nothing that might get me involved.
Encinitas California shocked as hundreds of barrels suspected to hold toxic chemicals are washed up on beach! Supernatural influence suspected!
Over in America again, and not something I could get involved in. Not from where I was anyway.
Standoff in Russia continues as Skadi defends the territory and communities she has claimed as hers!
A bit more concerning, but still not anywhere nearby. The name was familiar though, and it took me a moment to place it. Skadi was a Norse goddess, if I remembered right, and a powerful one. Powerful as in ‘ Odin, king of the Norse gods, didn’t want to mess with her’ powerful. I was going to have to look into this one a bit more once I had some more free time.
Mass disappearance in Australia causes surprisingly little panic as relatives are contacted in dreams that the vanished are safe!
Okay, interesting, but again, not what I was looking for.
Heroic rescue in Saltlake City! New demigod succeeds in saving a whole family and their dog from a burning house!
Okay, that made for a few minutes of more uplifting reading. It was a nice happy story, and the picture of the dog was a cute touch. Not something to do with me though.
Investigation into the White Moon still yields no results! The French government may have to call in foreign specialists in response to mounting pressure!
That one caught my eye. The White Moon? What was that? It had happened in France so . . . had I missed it because I was in the Hallowed Sanctuary? Still, it looked like something I should investigate. Maybe that was why we were here because something was going to happen tonight to do with this White Moon. Clicking on the link I opened the page and started reading.
A few minutes later I was brought out of my rather stunned state by the feeling of one of my wings grinding against something solid. Looking up it took me a moment to realise that I’d unconsciously spread my wings behind me as I read my way through the thread. The sword-like feathers on one wing had started to dig into the plaster of the nearest wall, sinking in easily until they hit some concrete. It was enough to get me off the rails my mind had been stuck on.
Me . . . I was responsible for the White Moon.
I’d read the descriptions and it talked about a massive sphere that had been identified as an Awakening Flare. A massive white sphere of energy that had lit up the world at night and had been visible the world during the day. Something that had appeared on the same night I completed my Awakening.
I didn’t have to be a genius to line up the pieces.
I’d spent more than twenty minutes numbly reading people talk about the White Moon, what it had done, what it might have signified, and what they thought it meant about the demigod that had caused it. There were literally hundreds of people speculating about this, the French government had created an entire intelligence department dedicated to trying to learn about it, several cults had sprung up to worship the ‘New Moon’ then fallen apart as it didn’t appear once more. And it was all about me. And I’d had no idea it was going on. It was tough to wrap my head around it.
After my wing getting stuck brought me back to reality. My first impulse was to start posting replies to let people know that no, a new superpowered demigod wasn’t going to unleash an army of moon pixies to sweep across Europe and establish an empire of the moon. The fact that such a theory had actually managed to get some traction had been worrying enough, but I realised that if I let myself get dragged in then I was doing nothing but borrowing future trouble.
At best no one would believe me, at worst I might end up providing enough proof to convince the other readers that I was the genuine article and that I was the one that would lead the pixie empire. If someone with actual authority bought into the theory then my life was going to get way harder far quicker. It was probably better just to keep my mouth shut, metaphorically, and work to try and establish a good reputation before anyone found out I was behind the white moon.
I returned to the main menu and started seeing what other threads would catch my eye.
Is bio-petroleum a viable alternative to petrol? Multi-billion dollar businesses threatened by Buddhist Monk demigod!
Interesting, but not applicable to me at the moment.
Dragon sighted in Belgium! Where can it be heading?
Okay, that was a bit closer to here. Was I looking at stopping an attack on the city from a dragon? Well, that was one way to establish my bona fides. Dragons were the sorts of monsters that even gods respected. That said . . . did I want to take one on? I had some first-class backup, but even so . . .
King Arthur’s Sheath stolen again! Mass manhunt for thieves still shows no results!
Seeing that one made my mind come to a crashing halt. For a moment I just stared at the screen, seeing the words but not quite getting them. The King’s scabbard? Stolen? Again?!
Just like every young boy in England, I’d heard one version or another of the legends of King Arthur. In my case, it had been when I was seven, and my Dad read the stories to me before going to bed. I remembered the story of how Morgan la Fey managed it, tricking Arthur into fighting one of his own knights to the death, a knight that held Excalibur while Arthur wielded a fake. It was a fight that nearly killed the king, and it was only due to his scabbard that he survived and healed. His half-sister had stolen it from him while he was helpless in bed, and then thrown it into a bog when she had been chased by his knights. It had been the start of the end for Arthur and Camelot. And now it had been done again.
Crap! This was bad! Very, very bad! Arthur was the UK’s safety net, the reason that my home country had been able to endure the aftermath of the Black Sun more easily than many other places. As much as the world tried to keep going as though not too much had changed the fact was that every country in the world had suffered tragedies and disasters of some sort. Entire towns being wiped out, monster attacks, whole chunks being taken over, demigods going on rampages, something. Having the King and his knights acting as Britain’s protectors had kept the United Kingdom safe.
Okay, this was something serious, but did it have anything to do with me? Yeah. I’d dearly love to be the one to bravely recover the scabbard and return it to the King, but that was over in Britain. I was here, and I was going to have to deal with it. that said, once tonight was over I was going to seriously suggest that we headed back to my home country. Athena was a goddess of Craft, right? In the myths, she was always depicted as the smartest and wisest of the Olympians, her occasional tantrum notwithstanding. Maybe she could help with the search? If I could help the scabbard be found, even if it was just by bringing help, then not only would I feel as though I’d done something useful, but it would also be a feather in my cap.
Glancing to the clock in the screen’s corner I was surprised at how much time I’d taken just checking out the titles and the accompanying articles. I’d managed to satisfy my curiosity and had something of a picture of how the world had fared during my seclusion. By the looks of it, China wasn’t going to launch a war of conquest against the rest of the world, so that was to the good. On the bad side, there were still plenty of smaller fires burning around the world, but at least the whole thing wasn’t crashing and burning.
Glancing at the door I didn’t see anyone looking in through the window, or anything like that. I had time, or so I hoped. Enough time to log into my email address and write a letter.
Hello all!
Adam here, and I have got so much to tell you guys!
Joan, and yes I do mean Joan of Arc, got me to France and brought me to this farmhouse out in the countryside and a ways away from anywhere other than a small town. Yes, a hot girl took me to her hideaway so it could be just the two of us, but sadly it wasn’t nearly as much fun as it sounds.
Joan spent the next few days repeatedly kicking my ass and then healing me up, all in order to train me! I’m pretty sure she could look at some army drill sergeants and call them too soft. Seriously, when she healed me up it was from things like broken bones and crushed muscles.
Still, I needed it. Things have been good, but there’s been some not good stuff too. Don’t worry. I’m fine and safe, but if Joan hadn’t been here it would have been bad . . .
I went on, writing in generalities rather than specifics. I told them about how my Awakening had been attacked and didn’t go quite as planned, but not about just how bad it was. I told them that my new powers had given me wings and a makeover, but not just how changed I was. I wrote about my training, though I didn’t give details of just what I could do. I described the fight with Etienne but didn’t tell them how close it had come to my death. Lastly, I told them about the goddesses arriving, and about my coming to Le Havre and why I was there.
. . . I don’t know how things are going to go, but Joan thinks we have to be here, and I trust her. I’ve heard about the King’s scabbard being stolen, once we’re done here I’m hoping to come back to Britain and see if I can help.
Anyway, I just wanted to let you all know I’m safe and doing well. Can’t say things are perfect, but I can fly now, and that makes up for a lot of the stuff I have to deal with. Yeah, I’ve still got some trouble with heights, but I’m getting better. When I get back I should be able to take you guys for rides with me.
I’ve got to go now, don’t know how much more time I’ll have free. I just wanted to tell you I’m fine and that I’m really looking forward to seeing you guys again!
Lots of love
Adam.
I finished the email, then sent it to both my parents, Doug and Chris, my grandparents, and even Di, my boss at the Well Grounded, everyone I felt close to and who might be concerned about me disappearing. For a moment I gave secrecy some thought, but then dismissed it. I’d given the police my name and showed them my passport, even though it had taken some persuading to believe the picture was me given my photoshopped appearance. They knew who I was, and I wasn’t naïve enough to think that info would stay confidential. In just days some major news outlet would find out just who was running around with Joan of Arc, and then everyone else would know too.
The least I could do was to give my friends and family a head start, some time to get ready before they might get dragged into it too. I could only hope that it wouldn’t be too hard on them.
I clicked a button and the email was sent. For a moment I considered waiting to see if anyone replied, but then I dismissed the idea. I didn’t know what I was going to be facing tonight, but going into it with any distractions on my mind wasn’t a smart move.
Instead, I’d try to relax a bit and bleed off some tension to get me ready. I was a bit behind on the latest Divine Versus, that might be fun. I clicked onto the website and almost laughed when I saw the latest thread to be opened.
Joan of Arc vs St George! Who would win?
Okay, this could be fun, if only to see how wrong they could be about her.
My remaining free time passed all too quickly.
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Joan let herself lean back in her chair and close her eyes as she took a moment.
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All in all, things could have gone far worse than they had. The . . . unpleasantness at the park had caught her by surprise, though she really should have anticipated it. Adam, Athena and Kali, all of them were quite literally superhumanly beautiful. Joan knew herself to be attractive, and honoured Hadriel was beautiful to the point it hovered at the edge of the supernatural. Her charge and the goddesses were beyond that.
The truth was that she had grown accustomed to it, even if she had only known their new allies for a few days. She had spent weeks getting used to Adam being an Adonis, and a combination of her own will and her divine protection had allowed her to resist the spell of such beauty. She’d come to once again see the young man behind the new looks, and so had been able to, if not ignore then endure them. When the goddesses had arrived it hadn’t been a great task to resist their loveliness as well, though she had been surprised at how much composure Adam had shown when faced with them.
The simple fact was that the French Saint had grown so inured to the potency of divine beauty that it had slipped her mind, plain and simple. Still, the men and women of this police centre had proven that with some time to steel their will, a mortal could keep from having their reason swept away. Yes, she had been aware of many covert and lustful glances being directed at all of them, but at least there hadn’t been any enamoured frenzies.
Sighing she stood up and took stock of the situation. Honoured Hadriel was in a corner of the room they had been asked to wait in. It was fairly well-furnished, and Joan imagined it was normally used as a place to keep those who were powerful, wealthy or well connected. Goddess Kali was taking full advantage of the couch that had been set up at one end of the room, sprawling out on it as casually as she might have done were she at home. Goddess Athena had sat down at the table in the middle of the room and was tapping away on a small but intricate cell phone.
That was something of an odd sight, the venerable Olympian, in her toga and shawl, working upon such an advanced piece of technology. Joan knew that she was not any sort of expert on modern technology herself, being still new to this world of wires, mechanisms and transferred knowledge that would have been unthinkable in her days as a mortal.
“Excuse me, are you . . . Joan?”
The resurrected soul was brought out of her thoughts as the door opened and a policeman stuck his head in. He seemed nervous, his eyes flicking from one woman in the room to the next, but at least he was able to drag his eyes away from the others to focus on her face.
“Yes. How may I help you?”
“There-there are some people here that have asked to speak to you specifically. They’re from the government, all official-like. Can you speak to them?”
He was clearly nervous, though she could not help but notice that his eyes kept flicking from her face to her armoured chest and then back. Suppressing a sigh she nodded to him.
“Certainly. I have time and I would be happy to aid the gouvernement.”
She let the others know she was leaving, then was quickly led to another room. It was smaller, an office, but comfortably furnished. Waiting there were two people, a man and a woman seated in chairs. The woman had black hair cut into a short bob, while the man had brown hair cut short and parted at the centre. Both were fairly young, perhaps in their mid-twenties at most and were dressed in black suits with white shirts. Even though they were indoors the man was still wearing dark glasses while the woman had a pair tucked into her front pocket. Something about the way they were dressed tickled a memory for Joan, but she could not put her finger on it. As she entered both of them stood up to greet her.
“Jeanne d’Arc?”
The woman asked, her face showing traces of awe as she stared at the reborn saint. She moved to offer her hand to shake, then took it back, paused, moved to offer it again, then jerked it back and stood also rigidly with her arms at her side. Joan offered the kindest smile she could and settled into the chair facing them. It was nice to hear her original name. She had been going by Joan with Adam since it was the name he would have been most familiar with, but to hear her name in her mother tongue was surprisingly pleasant.
“Yes? How may I help you?”
The woman seemed to get herself under control and also sat, the man following her example.
“It is an honour and a privilege to be in your presence. Your example and legend have been an inspiration to your country for centuries!”
As the woman spoke the man nodded along, his own slightly jerky movements giving away his own nervous state.
“Thank you,” the resurrected saint gestured back to them. “Who are you, if you do not mind me asking?”
“I am Agent Gensoul, this is Agent Devereaux.” The woman stated, gesturing to herself and her partner. “We work for the Myth Security Directorate, a new branch of the General Directorate for Internal Security. Our task is to see to the protection of France during these turbulent times.”
Ah, that made sense. Joan was pleased to hear that the government of her homeland was working to adapt to the changing world.
“A fine and worthy goal.”
“Lady Jeanne . . .” This time it was the man, Agent Devereaux, who spoke. “It is our sincere hope that you would be willing to join the MSD. We have successfully managed to sign on some demigods to aid us, but they are new to their powers and unreliable. If you could help us it would be a great boon!”
Internally the French saint winced. Yes, she should have been expecting that. It only made sense that the rulers of this land would be eager to bind her to protect it if they could. Truthfully, were she not already committed to aiding Adam, she would have been all too happy to stand as a defender of France once more. Sadly such was not possible as things stood, something she had to make clear to these agents.
“I wish that I could, but I have a task I must continue. I am sorry, but-”
She was interrupted as the female agent suddenly leaned forward, her hands clasped before her as though entreating some noble.
“Please, Lady Jeanne! France is in desperate need. After the disaster in Lyon the citizens are fearful, to be told that la Pucelle now fights for them would soothe many hearts and minds.”
Joan frowned at that, focusing on the latter part.
“What happened in Lyon? I have been . . . outside the normal channels of communication.”
“The truth is that we don’t yet know,” The male agent admitted. “A few days ago the Saône River overflowed its banks and flooded half the city. At the same time, strange wisps of fire descended from the sky. We do not know why the whisps targeted certain buildings, shops, homes, even a pair of schools, and swarmed them, burning them down. There were many deaths and much property damage, but then the whisps disappeared, and the water receded. The city has survived, but the suddenness and seeming randomness of the disaster has left many feeling unsafe and vulnerable.”
That sounded bad. It was one thing for a city to be caught in a conflict between powerful forces, but it was another thing entirely to be just attacked out of the blue. Battles between uncaring gods or reckless demigods could lead to tragedies, but they were understandable, in a way. People could comprehend it, prepare for it, and recover from it. It was simply a greater scale of something they had always been aware of, the dangers of conflict. A supernatural assault from out of nowhere, without apparent cause or any sort of warning was a different and more frightening prospect.
Part of her ached to lend her aid, to fly to Lyon and fight any that dared to attack her beloved France. However, her duty would not allow it. still, she could at least offer what aid she could, even if it was just her knowledge and opinions.
“I wish that I could offer information, but I cannot determine enough from that description. The combination of fire and water is unusual, perhaps the result of two different powers? Is there any sort of common factor to the burned buildings?”
Joan noted a short pause before the female agent answered. Perhaps it was information not meant to be shared? If so she was grateful that Agent Gensoul was willing to break that rule.
“None that we’ve been able to find.”
More, she needed more information.
“The Water was a far more encompassing disaster while the fire was more specific,” The resurrected saint noted, leaning forward slightly. “Exactly how long did this disaster last? From what time to what time?”
“It was . . . six hours. Exactly from 9 am in the morning to 3 pm in the afternoon”
That was significant, such precise timing regarding the sun . . .
“This has the hallmarks of a ritual,” Joan said slowly, voicing her thoughts as they came to her. “The duality of water and fire, the timing that equally frames midday and the possitioning of the sun, the fact that specific buildings were targeted. I would recommend further investigation of the burnt buildings, as well as seeking events that took place at exactly high noon.”
It was not much, but it felt right. It was not much, but it was the best she could offer.
“This . . . this is why we need you lady Jeanne! We know so little, and it is taking far too long for us to learn and fill in the gaps in our knowledge. We are learning, but it is slow, and every failure costs our homeland and citizens their livelyhoods or even their lives. Please . . . how can you just ignore France when it cries out in need?!”
The black-haired woman suddenly burst out, her face a mixture of hope and anger.
“I am sorry, but the mission I am currently on was assigned to me by Dieu Tout-Puissant himself. Even if it is to once more save my beloved homeland I cannot abandon it! Rest assured though, my ward and his allies are here to help. Danger looms in Le Havre, and we have arrived to contest it!”
Joan was careful to keep her voice level and conciliatory. She wanted them to understand, she would never desert France, but her duty pulled her away.
“Is there nothing we can say? Nothing we can offer? All of France would celebrate the return of their most beloved saint. There are . . . concerns of how France stands in comparison to Britain. Their legendary king has returned to protect them, and we stand defenceless. If they were to know that France’s own saint has deserted them the people will only further lose heart.”
The male agent’s words were spoken with less passion than his partner’s, but there was a certain cold practicality to them that made them hard to ignore. She was aware of how her legend had grown over time, and of how that reputation might stand in the current age, with myths and legends returning to the world. But . . .
“I shall never abandon France!” she stated, her voice reflecting both her regret and her certainty. “I fight to ensure that disaster does not befall France, my Homeland and the rest of the world! God Himself laid this duty upon me, our Holy Father in Heaven, the Creator of All! I stand beside goddesses and an angel in the fulfilment of this task, do not think that I am being frivolous in my dedication to it and my charge!”
“Please forgive Agent Gensoul,” Agent Devereaux said, holding out his empty hands placatingly. “I am certain she had no intention of questioning your honour or the importance of your task. She . . . we were merely disappointed that your duties do not leave you free enough to lend us sorely needed aid.”
Joan smiled and nodded in response, her face a mask of earnestness as she replied.
“I understand. Our country is besieged by threats that you are unsure of how to combat and the governors of this land are eager for any allies they can enlist. Rest assured, though I may not be able to devote myself to my country I shall entreat the Heavens to lend you further aid.”
“Any help you can get us would be great,” the female agent stated, though the saint could still see traces of resentment in her gaze. “Though . . . if you could perhaps have some official interview? Just the knowledge that you have returned would be enough to hearten many of France’s citizens. If you have a divine mission then I can understand not being able to remain, but surely there is time for some words for your countrymen.”
“Perhaps,” Joan allowed. “But it shall not be today. Tonight there is to be some event in which we need to intervene. I do not know if it shall be a foe to challenge, a disaster to avert or some scheme to derail, but until it has been dealt with I fear I shall not be fully free to concentrate upon anything else.
It was as gentle a refusal as she could offer. Truly, if it had been her choice she would have been eager to once more rise to defend her homeland, but she was not free to follow her whims. Also, she was aware that even if the offer had been couched as gently and flatteringly as possible there would also be some darker elements behind it. France was in danger of being overshadowed by the United Kingdom on the international stage due to the return of King Arthur. Her return would have served as a fine . . . counter? Certainly a balancing force, at least. She was also certain that the mortal rulers of France would have done all they could to control her, or at least direct her.
How valuable would her existence be to a government reeling from the changes in the world? Yes, she could see why they would be eager for her to be a national symbol, a figurehead for the national authority, maybe even some sort of mascot for the whole nation. A cynical part of her also wondered how much money could be made with her likeness. Joan might not be fully aware of all the facets of the modern world, but she did know enough to bet that someone would be set to make staggering wealth using her image.
Still, she did not need to attribute any malice to the pair of agents before her. Perhaps they had ulterior motives for trying to recruit her, but they might just as much have been completely honest with her. Deciding to give them the benefit of the doubt Joan stood and offered them her hand to shake.
“I am sorry I could not accept your offer more fully, but I ask you to understand my situation.”
She wanted to say more, but she would just be repeating herself. Rather than seem like a dullard she hoped she would instead come across as sincere. She must have been at least partially successful because the male agent also stood and shook her hand. The female agent was less forthcoming though, remaining seated with a sullen expression on her face.
“Well, I shall not lie. I had hoped for a different response,” Agent Devereaux admitted, “Still, I understand that you have responsibilities of your own that we could not have anticipated. I can only hope that the future favours us both and you shall be freer to aid us.”
“Thank you.”
Without further words Joan left the room, glancing at a clock on the hallway wall as she did so. There were still hours to go. What could she do to help Adam prepare?
Under other circumstances she might have gone to get him some food, to fuel himself for the evening to come. She remembered all too well during her time as a mortal, how a good meal had done wonders for soldiers preparing for a battle in the morning. Such a comfort was denied to her charge, so what else could she do for him?
Actually . . . where was he? Best that she find him first, then she could make plans from there.
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Hugo Devereaux watched the resurrected saint turn the corner and leave his line of sight while he carefully controlled the urge to curse. At his side, Claire Gensoul showed no such restraint.
“Damn it!”
Agent Gensoul had proven herself effective in the field, being observant and intelligent, but she tended to be overly emotional on certain topics. Figures that she deeply respected were one such topic, and Jeanne d’Arc was someone she had deeply admired. Her attitude was . . . somewhat disappointing, but he hoped that experience and time would temper that aspect of her. For now, he had best help her settle down.
“We were always aware there was a chance for failure.” He reminded her, sitting back down in a chair that faced her.
“How can she not come to her country’s defence? She’s needed more than ever, and she’s just following around some random Englishman?”
There was real vitriol in her voice, as though Jeanne’s choice were some sort of personal insult. He supposed he could understand it, hadn’t his heart leapt when he heard confirmation that France’s Patron Saint had been confirmed to have returned and be in the presence of angels and gods? To have that hope come crashing down was painful, but it was not an excuse to lose control. Nor was it an excuse to ignore reality.
“‘Some random Englishman’? Have you seen him? Do those wings seem like they belong in a coffee shop?” Hugo scoffed but then continued in a gentler tone. “Apparently, this is a demigod that God Himself commanded Jeanne d’Arc to aid. Do you truly believe anything would matter to a Saint such as she more than fulfilling His commands?”
Claire grimaced, but then reluctantly nodded her agreement.
“Okay, okay I get it! You can’t blame me for being disappointed though.”
“I understand! Believe me, I understand. If she had agreed it would have been perfect.”
So many opportunities, gone! The effect on the general public alone would have been worth five times her weight in gold, while fully armored at that. Publicity, merchandising, being the public face of the government, any one of those would have been of incalculable value, and that was just taking her identity into account. Jeanne d’Arc was a soul returned from Heaven, a genuine Saint reborn. What she knew about the supernatural and the Legends probably completely eclipsed all that the MSD had been able to learn through frantic research.
And then there was her power! She could turn into an angel, at least according to witnesses, one able to fly and manipulate light. Yes, the MSD had been able to recruit some supernatural talent, namely some demigods, a couple of budding spell-users and even a dryad that had decided to make her home just outside Paris. None of them were trained fighters though. Having someone trained in the use of such powers to act as a teacher would have been invaluable to their new directorate.
Of course, he knew there were . . . darker elements in the government that would have been desperate to get her under their thumb. Honey traps, blackmail, threats, bribery, it wouldn’t have mattered what it would have taken, they’d have done it if it meant getting an asset like her under their control. The possibilities she offered would have been incalculable.
In the end, maybe it wasn’t a completely bad thing that she’d chosen to stay independent. Her mere existence might have caused large chunks of the already faltering French Government to turn on each other in a desperate frenzy to control her.
“Yeah, instead she’s going to gallivant around the country and beyond with no oversight or restraint.” His college’s bitter tone brought Agent Devereaux out of his thoughts and back to the matter at hand. “Never mind what the public thinks about our nation’s patron saint following around some guys from Britain, can you imagine the mess it’ll be if she gets involved in a major incident in a foreign country?”
“Preparations will need to be taken, but there’s something you’re ignoring.” He assured her, his words catching her interest enough to pull her out of her dark mood as she glanced back at him.
“Oh, what?”
“That young man, Adam. Jeanne d’Arc and an angel have been sent to assist him, two goddesses are also following him around. That means that he’s important, and he’s shown up in France. Something can be done with that. If the folks in the Public Relations department can’t do something with it to benefit our country then I’ll be willing to eat my shoes.”
It wasn’t what they’d wanted, but it was at least a small victory. Athena, and Kali, both of them were big names. Throw in a literal angel and their country’s patron saint was in fine company. Just that association was enough to elevate her status, and through her France itself would also gain repute. The United Kingdom had benefited greatly from the presence and reputation of Arthur, now France would likewise prosper, at least in part. Well, assuming things went well, of course.
There were so many ways this could go wrong that it wasn’t even funny. Damage to the city, terrible as it could be, was at the low end of the scale. At the worst end was France being dragged into an international war if things went badly enough.
“Let’s get back in touch with the main office,” Agent Devereaux declared, straightening his tie as he stood up. “We’ll have to inform the Chief about how things turned out, and begin making preparations.”
“Okay,” Gensoul agreed, as she put on her sunglasses. “La Pucelle mentioned that there’d be something happening tonight. I guess giving the guys at the office some warning will make things easier when we’ve got to smooth things over tomorrow.”
He nodded in response as they both left the police station. The bright sun outside was dulled by the sunglasses they each wore as they left the building. Honestly, he understood the psychological advantages that wearing the shades provided him as an agent, adding to the mystique of his profession, making him harder to read by others, and even making him appear a little more intimidating. All of that was useful, but he still felt like a teenager trying to look cool whenever he wore them indoors.