In a realm of cold a fire burned. The realm itself was cold, dark, and dreary, as one would expect a realm of eternal punishment would be. At the center of the realm stood a keep as dank and bleak as the rest of the landscape. The great gray ship moored to the dock lay at rest; there would be no need for it today. No watchmen stood at the watchtowers; no soldiers guarded the gates. If it were not for the slight steam that rose from the ground, it might be abandoned.

The steam rose, and so did faint sounds from within. In the gloom, the darkness, the cold, the slowly rising mist, they could easily be mistaken for cries of pain, of terror, of fear. Within, the walls were still stark, but no longer bore the scars of abandonment. Instead, they soared upward, higher on the inside than could be accounted for by the height of the keep, and were covered with tapestries, alternating black on white and gold on red. The cries came from within the room at the heart of the keep, from the tallest tower. In the bedroom there, the cries no longer sounded of fear, but rather of agonized delight.

In a four-poster bed larger than some houses, two lovers lolled in post coital bliss. Occasionally, one would lean over and playfully tease the other, bringing more cries of delightful pain from their partner. When the man, golden of hair and red of skin, caressed his lover, lines seared themselves across her skin, and she squirmed with obvious painful delight. When the woman, piebald of skin and hair, responded in kind, her fingers left frozen, age wrinkled lines, eliciting aching moans of pleasure. They rolled apart, wounds healing as rapidly as they formed.

"You know if my uncle caught us, he would kill us both."

"Your uncle? What about your father?"

"He's tricky. He might kill us. He might tell my uncle to keep his hands clean. He might blackmail us. He might encourage our plan to supplant Uncle, at least until he could take over."

"He couldn't really think we'd leave him alive?"

"Why not? He and father were enemies of old, so he's a natural ally. Really, though, I think he'd just play along, realizing our plot the whole time."

"Does he know now?"

"Who knows what he knows. That's why I'm with you. I tired of the endless plots within plots. Give me a simple, passionate man any day."

"So, no 'like father like daughter'?"

"That would be 'like father like son', which would be why Sleipnir had to die. Uncle finally realized he was acting as father's agent all along."

"He was? I'm stunned."

"Father gave him up as part of his alliance with uncle."

"That is pretty cold of him."

"Especially since Sleip was never, to my knowledge, in cahoots with father."

The man shuddered, disgust warring with unaccustomed fear on his face.

"Remind me never to turn my back on your father."

"You'll notice I never do."

"Care to turn your back to me for a bit?"

"I don't know, I'm not sure I can trust you back there."

"You've known me how long, and you still say that?"

"It's because I've known you so long that I say that."

The great doors boomed open, causing swirling blasts of freezing and baking air to chase themselves across the room.

"You two are disgusting."

"You're just jealous that we got to play while you had to work."

The newcomer, milk white of skin and with hair like a raven's wing, curled her lip in a sneer, then pointedly looked away from the pair on the bed with a sniff.

"I take it you're not going to join us?"

"Shut up, Surtr. Hel, I need you."

"What's up, Anni?"

"Surtr is corrupting you, Hel, just like he was corrupted by all those mortals who owe their livelihood to him."

"Look, can we get past your jealous little rant and get on to the part where you tell me why you're so upset? Are you limping?"

"As you wish. The dead that are mine are part of me, just like the Valkyr are yours and the fire elementals are his. When any are destroyed, it's... painful."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, love?"

"Never call me that, fire lord. If it weren't for her, I would gladly let you feel the claws of Nemain. Have any of yours been snuffed out since the pact made them part of us?"

"No. Of course not. Since the pact we've been unstoppable, each of us destroying the other's ancient foes. You really should think about taking better advantage of the other benefits of the agreement."

"Do you ever think of anything else? I'm surprised, though. I thought dragons were yours."

"They are, except the ones that died before the pact. Did you lose one?"

"I only had the one. Most of the ones that died were scavenged for parts."

"Had implies you lost it, Anni. Is that why you're limping?"

Hel flowed from the bed, moving toward Annan with horrified fascination. Annan froze, one hand clutching at the door frame to hold herself up. Hel's hand ran along Annan's side, caressing the spots Annan was favoring.

"You did lose it. How?"

"That psychotic mechanic. She dove down the thing's throat and blew its brains out with one of those infernal toys Surtr inspired the mortals to make."

"Something needs to be done about her."

"If we could incarnate now, I'd kill her myself."

"So get Mort to convince our pawn to banish her. You can meet her on this side, and we'll hold her down while you tear out her soul."

"See, that's why I like you, Hel. You think of the nicest things to say."

"Hey, I'm all for that holding people down thing."

The answering chorus was immediate, amused, and emphatic.

"Shut up, Surtr."

***

"I'm afraid this is quite unusual, Mr. Lefee. Typically, a student's parents will be the ones applying for admission."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Mr. Jordan. There has been at least one precedent. The Black girl."

"You're referring to our sister school, but I'll readily admit that we try to keep policy equivalent, if not always precisely equal."

"Not equal?"

"There are differences between boys and girls. At both Martin Van Buren and Richard Mentor Johnson High Schools, we recognize this and work to provide each with a learning environment optimized to the needs and strengths of their gender."

"That's a lovely sentiment. What does it mean?"

"It means, young man, that we have a football team, they have a cheer squad, their lavatories have bidets and ours have urinals. Also, your question belies a cynicism beyond your years. Might I ask why you wish to attend Mentor High?"

Mort looked up at the ceiling, carefully looking over the headmaster's right shoulder. While the man's attention was drawn to his eyes, his hands worked their way over the amulet mother crafted for him. A moment later, the headmaster's eyes glazed ever so slightly as the spell took effect. Anything he said from this point forward would be taken as earnest and honest. Lies would have to be realistic to be believed, but they would be believed with a fervor that would surprise any but the most cynical of manipulators. It helped if the untruths bore a passing relation to the truth. When they did, the victim of the spell would believe the deception even when presented with hard evidence to the contrary.

"My parents, like Ms. MacAdams', are dead. My mother was the leader of a group of freedom fighters, and my father ordered her death when he realized her betrayal. My father was a member of the government against which my mother fought; I was conceived when she was assigned to seduce him, to acquire information from him. When he ordered the assassination of my mother, I... I went a little insane. I tried to kill him. He shot me. I shot him. I woke in a hospital. I assume he died, or I would never have awakened."

Mort reached into his inner jacket pocket and produced several documents, all of which he laid on the table in front of the headmaster. All of them were forgeries to one degree or another. Most of the identification, like the immigration and naturalization information, was real, but had dates changed to conceal Mort's true age. Some of the rest was real, some was fake. The birth certificate, for instance, was a complete forgery. England didn't have them when he was born, and children born out of wedlock rarely had accurate information recorded anyhow. Mort stepped back and once again surreptitiously caressed his amulet. It wouldn't do to leave the headmaster a gull, after all. The glazed look faded from his eyes, and he looked over the papers on his desk.

The headmaster muttered a bit as he worked his way through Mort's identification, but Mort could already tell; he was looking for an excuse to admit Mort, rather than excuse to deny him entry.

"I understand the semester has already started, but I believe I can make up any required work over the Thanksgiving weekend. I don’t intend to visit my parents, after all."

"Good, good. Given your situation, I don't doubt that's for the best. Do you have local accommodations?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. Do you have a room available in the dormitory?"

"Yes, we do, but that does increase the tuition substantially. As an emancipated minor, I'm not certain you can afford that. If it were still summer, I would recommend testing for our scholarship program, but this late in the year that isn't possible."

"I would decline anyway, sir."

"You wouldn't even try?"

"It would be unfair to those who really need it, sir."

With that statement, Mort reached down to the briefcase he'd carried into the room. Setting it on the headmaster's desk, he keyed the latch, spun it about, and opened it facing the headmaster. After a moment's confusion, Mr. Jordan's eyes indicated he recognized what he was looking at and was more than slightly shocked. He did not, however, look displeased.

"Bearer bonds? How did a young man your age come by them?"

"My father again, sir. He was a rather wealthy man, and never changed the passwords on his electronic locks. Apparently, my mother made a lasting impression."

Shaking his head at the foolishness of others, the headmaster gently closed the briefcase, then reached out a hand to the trim, well put together young man before him.

"My secretary will no doubt have an enormous amount of paperwork for you to fill out, but in the meanwhile let me be the first to welcome to Mentor High, Mr. LeFee."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

***

"So, Greatfather, which of them do you expect to survive?"

"You expect me to confide in you?"

"No, I expect you to brag to me."

"You've known me too long, haven't you?"

"Are you telling me I'm not on the list?"

"Of course not. I expect even if I didn't expect you to be, you would wind up there. The ravens and your daughter won't, of course."

If hearing his leader sentence his daughter to die bothered him, Loki showed no sign. Noting the chairman's careful lack of names, he followed suit with equal care.

"Of course. We've agreed on that from the beginning. The giant will no doubt be pleased."

"Not likely. He'll be going before them."

"You're certain?"

"Absolutely. I wish to reap the maximum benefit from the sacrifice of our death goddesses. Killing them will be difficult enough, and after they are dead killing of anyone will require my personal attention."

"The enchantress?"

"If we can kill her before the giant, certainly. Otherwise, let her do and become as she will."

"I don't like letting her run free, Greatfather. Most especially if she can outlive the giant."

"I don't like how little I know about what powers she's achieved over the past millennia. That some are shielded from me is a sure sign she is more than mortal even now."

"That's supposed to make me feel better about letting her live?"

"That's supposed to remind you that she might even now be more powerful than you."

"But not you?"

"The pact, Liesmith, the pact. Until it is broken by me, my power is the sum of all of its living members."

"How did you get that in there?"

"When we made the pact, none of you foresaw the importance of lawyers."

"Touche. What of the sidhe? Once we've traveled to his plane, do we keep him alive?"

"I think we'll have to play that by ear when we arrive. I doubt we'll want to eliminate him before we at least gain some introductions to the locals."

"What if he's got something unfortunate waiting for us?"

"Then we'll have to bring along something unfortunate for him. I leave that in your capable hands."

"I'll be taking my leave then."

Halfway to standing, Loki paused.

"It just occurred to me. What about our two mortals?"

The chairman's look spoke volumes, and told his right hand that the question was, at best, a poor joke, and dark humor at that.

"I thought that would cheer you up. Be well, Greatfather."

***

"Mr. Josephs. It's good to see you back."

"It's good to be back, ma'am, even if it is only to have the secretary fill out forms."

"You're not going to be doing the interviews?"

"Well, yeah, but only the ones already vetted by Bel and yourself."

"I do wish you'd take the first round of interviews."

"The doctors would prefer I stay on bed rest entirely, Ma'am, but I can't leave you in that lurch. I'll make sure whoever it is knows enough about modern perimeter electronics to keep them up. I know you want looking at me to weed out the ones with weak stomachs, but I'm pretty sure Bel won't let anyone without enough intestinal fortitude through."

"Well, it's good to see you up and about, at any rate. Keep me in the loop."

"Will do, Ma'am. Do you want me to send Bel in?"

"Is he waiting outside?"

"Yeah. He and Harry insisted on walking me over here.”

"OK. Send him on in, we need to talk."

As soon as the retired SEAL's back was turned, Renee's face went blank. As she watched him leave the room, she reflected on the importance of keeping good subordinates aware of everything except how dire their superiors found a situation. Bel came in while she was still fuming over the recent press debacle.

"Bel, I hope that within the next few minutes you'll explain to me exactly how you've prevented this from ever happening again."

"Ag shame, Ms. Williams. I can tell you lots of things, some of them quite good, but not that."

"You have my undivided attention."

"Are we secure?"

Renee reached under her desk and threw a switch. A moment later a small light came on in a bookcase behind Bel.

"We are now. Go ahead."

"The CIA denies any involvement. My contacts there told me there's nothing official going on, so the denial is honest, as far as it goes. They also told me they don't have anything simple that would do what was done here."

"Nothing simple isn't the same as nothing."

"No, but it means that Ms. Drake didn't do it herself."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I am of anything in this mess. My contact thought of a few ways they could execute this, but..."

Bel tossed his head, looking for all the world like a bull shaking his horns. Renee remained silent; she'd seen Bel like this before, and it always paid to let him work out his internal confusion. After a few moments, she was rewarded by a look of sudden inspiration on his face.

"Here's the problem in a nutshell; all the ways we talked about required substantial resources devoted to this. Men, materials, payoffs. I checked with my FBI contacts, and they confirmed with me that no one has moved any of the required materials near here that they're aware of. Also, none of the professionals who could pull off this kind of stunt were involved."

"There is always the possibility of amateurs."

"Not with this kind of smooth timing. It takes a lot of practice to get this good, to pull off this kind of operation without leaving any traces. To do it as a distraction is almost impossible for an amateur; they are so enamored of being able to do it that they have to."

"Don't I remember you saying something about being taken unawares by an amateur during your last Vegas trip?"

"Poker isn't quite the same, but I take your point. It's possible that amateurs who got access to good information and equipment could do enough VR training that they could pull it off, but they would have to be lucky. I thought about that, but there are other considerations."

"Such as?"

"We found bodies this time. I had them taken care of before the news saw them."

"Thank god. Have we identified them yet?"

"One or two, and most of them we've got at least a rough idea."

"How many were there?"

"Six or seven, depending on how you're counting. Six were laid out in a trail from the garage to the spot where we found the seventh. The seventh wasn't human."

"Come on, Bel. We don't have time for games."

"I'm not playing, Ms. Williams. Several shells from Josephs' shotgun were found in a pile of mixed dust and offal. The folks I've had examining the remains have determined it's some kind of lizard, but they can't tell what. Whatever it was didn't match any of the gene maps they had. The real kicker is this."

With a magician's flourish, Bel produced an enormous tooth, a fang really. Renee had seen illustrations of similar ones, although they'd all been black instead of yellowed white. The color of fossils, not the color of slightly rotten teeth. With rapt fascination she took it from him and looked it over, noting the small area near the root where samples had been taken.

"Are you saying someone let a dinosaur loose on my campus?"

"Ms. Williams, I'm saying I have no idea what was loose on the campus, only that it was big, reptilian, and it flat disappeared after taking six rounds of buckshot to the inside of the mouth."

"What?"

"Ms. MacAdams was responsible for the six bodies we found. She managed to break into Josephs' gun locker and get that scattergun he favors. She apparently handed it off to the Lake girl when the big lizard appeared, and that..."

"Go ahead, you can say it. Idiot."

"No, I was actually thinking lunatic. If she was seeing what Ms. MacAdams was seeing, what she did wasn't stupid, just brave to the point of insanity. It did, however, appear to work."

"How do you know?"

"Shortly afterward, whatever she was shooting at went away, with six rounds of buckshot inside its skull."

"How can you be so certain?"

"I had Lazar police the area. She found the spent shells, Josephs confirmed those were the only ones missing. That's why I've been waiting to talk to him before I came to you. He also confirmed that all the shells that were fired were those triple-aught buck he prefers."

"I still wonder about him for those."

"I've seen men in body armor keep coming after being hit with a nine-millimeter to the chest. Not happily, and not uninjured, but they keep coming. Being hit with a half dozen or more at once, on the other hand, makes a body sit down and contemplate the cosmos for a while."

"I suppose it would."

"You didn't hear me say this, but Josephs is also very protective of the girls."

"Huh?"

"I suspect that anyone he caught breaking in with the intent to damage or despoil would wind up being shot, once, when they tried to use lethal force on him."

"On one hand, I'm horrified that anyone on my staff could consider a premeditated action of that nature. On the other hand, I've just decided that Mr. Josephs will not be replaced, even if we must hire an assistant for him full time. The Lake girl would do nicely if she wants the job."

"Speaking of which, Ms. MacAdams."

"What of her? Oh, God, this situation has me shaken. She needs counseling after killing six men, I expect. Have her parents been informed?"

"Actually, those are several parts of what I still need to talk to you about."

"Go on. Again."

"First, she doesn't need counseling, but I would like to give her a job."

"If you had come from any other line of work, I would question you hiring a sociopath. As it is, I will simply defer to your professional judgment. What do you want to hire her for?"

"She's not a sociopath, but she may be the coldest young woman I've known in a long time. I want to hire her to secure the school's computers, as well as try to track down the source of these attacks via the web."

"Killing six men and not requiring any counseling doesn't make her a sociopath? As for computer security, why am I paying someone for that again?"

"Nichole is good. Solid. Utterly dependable, which is rare among highly skilled hackers. She can also work with the rest of my team, which most of them can't. Ms. MacAdams, on the other hand, is a genius. Josephs' locker was secured by Nichole and himself. She didn't hack it over a period of a few days, the way I'd expect to, she went through the lock in no time flat while under fire."

"Ok, so she's a budding genius. You hire her to do this, and after we'll see if the school can hire her permanently to handle our computer security. Why isn't she a sociopath again?"

"Because they were already dead."

"Excuse me?"

"Time of death on the most recent is estimated at six months."

Renee leaned back in her chair, examining Bel through narrowed eyes. He sat there, unperturbed. Not only had he both led and faced men far more dangerous than she in situations far more tense, but he also had the unmistakable advantage of being habitually honest with her. After a solid minute of trying to stare him down, she spoke.

"Are you trying to tell me that my school was invaded by the walking dead?"

“Let me show you something.”

Bel pulled out his laptop, opened it, and tapped a few keys. He’d come prepared for this. When he turned the laptop around, a portion of a beautiful dragon tattoo showed on the screen. Renee examined it for a while, noting the detailed work. Whoever had done the work had connections with the Yakuza or had been trained by an artist who did. Given the quality of the work, she suspected the former.

“So, the Yakuza are responsible?”

“I wish.”

Renee closed her eyes and counted to twenty. It didn’t bode well for anyone that she had to do so. Speaking slowly and carefully, her eyes still closed, she explained what she wanted.

“Bel. I need you to stop the incremental descent into this. I need to know what you know, and what you suspect, and what you are going to do. I need to be sure you are not going, nor have gone completely around the bend. Am I clear?”

“Crystal, Ma’am. I need to make some things clear in return.”

Renee’s eyes snapped open. Bel had only called her Ma’am once before, when she had overruled him on a security matter. She had been right to do so, politically, but he had been right from a security perspective. She had learned from that one instance that when he took that tone, compromise was the least she ought to be doing.

“I’m listening, Director.”

Bel’s small smile told her he understood her acknowledgement of his authority.

“Excellent. We have been attacked twice. Two students have been injured, one with wounds consistent with an animal attack, one with wounds consistent with being shot while in body armor. No group has claimed responsibility for the attacks. None of our contacts can identify the attackers. All of our contacts claim that making these attacks appear as they do requires an enormous expenditure of resources.

“The only evidence of the first attack were the animal wounds, several piles of dust which turned out to be mixed organic ash and sulfur, and a power line apparently severed by a very minor earthquake with an epicenter meters from the connection between the generators and the breakers.

“The only evidence of the second attack are the gunshot wounds, six human bodies and some reptilian remains, and six expended shotgun shells which were not, prior to the event, blanks. The reptilian remains are of an unknown species, and of the human remains, the newest has been dead six months, the oldest was wearing a vintage Confederate uniform with evidence of a significant time spend underground, and one was the body of a Yakuza I personally killed six years ago.

“Given all that evidence, I have no choice but to accept one of two things. One, some agency or agencies are using bleeding edge technology to stage attacks on this facility for unknown reasons. Two, this facility is under attack by an agency or agencies previously believed to be mythical in nature.

“Either option requires the same response; I must increase security. I will be hiring a combat veteran to replace Josephs while he is on sick leave, and if Josephs returns before the crisis is over, keeping them both on for perimeter watch. I will be hiring additional workers to refurbish the grounds, all of whom will be combat trained, preferably combat veterans. I will be opening the armory and issuing concealable body armor and heavier side arms to all security personnel. I will be placing heavier weapons in all classrooms behind concealment panels and activating the cafeteria safe room system.

“In addition, all security personnel will be given a crash course in identifying and neutralizing as many supernatural threats as we can find convenient man portable counters for. While they will be instructed to use their normal armaments as a first recourse; if those should fail for whatever reason they will use the counters as a second line of defense.”

“You’re going to be issuing crosses to the teachers?”

“Yes and no, Ma’am. I would recommend saying we're allowing open wearing of religious symbols as a display of religious freedom. Students will be encouraged to wear a symbol of their choice as a display of diversity. All security personnel will openly wear a religious symbol of their choice. All security personnel will have a variety of alternate symbols available should they be required.”

“You are having them wear crosses. I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

Renee’s fingertips found their way to her temples. Bel shrugged.

“For all that we pretend, Martin Van Buren Academy for Girls is not a public school, Ma’am. There is nothing the parents can do.”

“Except pull the students out.”

“They’ll pull more out if we lose one to the attacks.”

“Point taken. Go on.”

“I’m about done; only two more items. First, it would be useful to determine the target of the attacks, and I am doing what I can, but that really isn’t my area of expertise. Nothing at Martin Van Buren has changed in the past year, but I don’t have your connections with the parents. Could I get you to contact them or otherwise determine if any of the students have changed risk categories?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Also, if you could contact the headmaster at Richard Mentor Johnson and determine if there are any changes there, I would really appreciate it. Technically I’m senior to their security director, but she and I… don’t get along.”

“Certainly. I’ll have the information to you by the end of the week. Is that all?”

“Actually, no. The second item is the armored figure the students and some faculty have reported seeing.”

“What about it?”

“My recommendation is that we stop trying to stop or apprehend her.”

“Why?”

“Thus far, every report has her trying to stop the attackers. If there are unknown agencies attempting to attack us, it stands to reason that there may also be unknown agencies attempting to defend us. Given the fluidity of the situation, it seems to be unwise to offend potential allies.”

“I concur. Will that be all?”

“That’s all on the security front. Other than that, Gwen MacAdams has taken over as the primary trainer of the cheer team again.”

“Oh, thank God. Some good news at last.”

Bel cocked an eyebrow at her, a sure sign he hadn’t followed her line of thought.

“I trust you with my life and the lives of my students. By extension I trust your men, including Mr. Roberts. However, the ‘funky chicken’ is not and will never be a solid basis for a cheer routine.”