“I’m familiar with the man,” I said. “Quite the memorable figure, after all. How did you come to know his name?”
The two special agents shared a look. Either they utilized some manner of telepathy or had simply grown so accustomed to one another a glance told them all they needed to know. Silent agreement was reached. They returned to their seats, guns holstered.
Special Agent Biehl fiddled with his collar. “There’s a limit to what we can say, but we hope to develop a mutually beneficial relationship with you, Ludo. Darius Brand is one of the paladins currently contracted under the PED. I remember hearing you your name from him, when he was telling us the last thing he remembered.”
At first his words failed to register. Once they did, various emotions warred inside me. Joy, to hear that some of my fellows had apparently survived this ordeal. Relief that I was not alone in this foreign land. Then came the confusion.
“Paladins of the Shining Goddess are not mercenaries who can contract under earthly organizations,” I said. My voice remained steady but I could not fully mask a concerned undertone. “I do not understand how this could be possible. Darius Brand was no saint but he was a still a man of great honor and piety.”
Special Agent Biehl remained still as a statue for a few moments. He lifted a finger as if about to lecture me, but Davis interrupted before he could speak.
“Sorry about that,” said Davis, his tone smoothing out. “Biehl is still working on his tact. Contracted isn’t the right word.”
Special Agent Biehl lowered his finger. “Right. We agreed that our government and your Order should work together against a mutual enemy. We’re providing for Darius as a thank you for his assistance.”
“That is a great relief.” I planted a hand against my chest. “I assume he made you aware of the oaths we take upon joining the Order. Though we are guests in your homeland, we pledged our very souls to a guardian deity whose power transcends realms. You are employees of a powerful government. Though I may I view you as brothers in arms, there is a serious distinction."
Biehl puckered his mouth like he wanted to disagree but thought better of it.
“Please,” I said, “do speak. Communication is vital to a proper relationship.”
Davis held out both hands in a plea for the conversation to end.
Ignoring his partner, Special Agent Biehl adjusted his cuff links, glanced down, back up at me, down, back up to me. “People are dying. I don’t care if you’re an angel from heaven, or some dual affinity third-ring whatever---"
“---third-ring paladin of the Shining Goddess, dual affinity---” I interrupted.
“Please. I know.” Biehl shook his head. “Look, Ludo. These bastards are killing people just as deserving of life as as you or me. They want to kill all of us. Well over seven billion breathing, talking, loving people. I don’t care if it’s your scheduled hour of prayer for the day or whatever. If you or any of your friends can help us, then you’re going to help us.”
There was more than a hint of challenge behind his words. This young gentleman thought to lecture me about people dying? Some childish part of me wished to antagonize this man further, to dismantle his suppositions and whittle away at sensitive spots. Perhaps the memory of Darius Brand had conjured up some lost remnant of the person I was in my youth. Back then it felt as if everyone else was against me, which didn’t matter much as long as the most enchanting woman in the world remained at my side.
“There seems to be some tension in the air,” I said, adopting Johnny Parish’s classic grin and mannerisms. Best to make a bit of use of the socialite’s skills. “Let’s move on to other matters. I’d love to be able to speak with Darius again.”
Biehl blinked a few times and relaxed. “Dropped your thees and thous, did you? It’s like I’m watching Johnny Parish himself on tv. I remember when he had that super fake dating show. What was it called, Davis?"
“Bay City Bachelor,” said Davis. “Loved that one. Shame they canceled it. I was rooting for Courtney.”
That was a part of Johnny’s life he tried his best to forget. He spent most of that shoot in a cocaine-induced mania and had chosen to shield himself from viewing too much of the public backlash afterwards. Things died down eventually, but it remained a sensitive topic.
There had been quite a bit of condemnation from all sorts of folk, a legendary fine, multiple lawsuits, and an exceptionally brutal lecture from his older sister. It even sparked one of those rare protests where the more rural Central Californians marched alongside the highly liberal city elite, condemning in equal measure his debauchery, environmental malignancy, and general offensiveness.
“Well,” I said, “for what it’s worth, he does regret it. One moment things seemed to be going well with the Yacht Mixer episode. The next thing he knew, everything’s on fire and the National Guard’s storming the area. A lot of people were just starting to experiment with bath salts back then.”
Biehl shook his head in disbelief. “Look, Ludo or Johnny or whoever you are. It’s possible for you to speak with Darius, but only under certain conditions.”
“What possible conditions can there be? Paladins swear an oath not to impede, coerce, or compete with each other. We extend that courtesy to other organizations as long as they extend it toward us.”
Special Agent Biehl’s nostrils flared in annoyance. “We’re doing what we can, Ludo. Trust me, we would love to work with you. You and the other paladins are being sent here for some sort of reason, after all. But we don’t have to play too nice. I wouldn’t want to go against you or Brand personally, but when it comes to destructive assets, it’s pretty hard to beat the U.S. military. What you did to that coffee shop, we buy shit capable of that by the thousands. We want your insight and your cooperation, but you aren’t in a position to demand anything.”
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Davis slapped Biehl’s shoulder with a meaty thump. “Go cool off, man. Take a few minutes. You’re acting like it’s your first day.”
Special Agent Biehl’s mouth hung open slightly, eyes accusatory as if his partner was betraying him. The expression faded as something in Davis’ earnest face won him over. The tension in his body vanished. Biehl stood, fastened the bottom button of his suit, and strolled out without another look my way.
After the door closed, Davis pulled an extravagant vape pen from his breast pocket and inhaled deeply. Several neon lights flashed along its length. Streams of eggshell-blue smoke billowed out from his nostrils. “Want a hit? Ghost OG and Maui Choc.”
I waved a hand in grateful dismissal. “Oh, no, no. I appreciate the offer, though.”
“Herbal medicine, Brand calls it. Loves the shit. You sure?”
“I have no problem with it personally,” I said. “But Johnny Parish has a sobriety vow I’d hate to break on his behalf.”
“Even green?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Davis leaned back and tapped the vape pen against his lip. “I respect that. In a way, Johnny is your partner on this case. You understand how you have to look after your boy. So I'm asking you to forgive Biehl. He gets a bit heated, but he’s good folk all around.”
“He was likely correct that I couldn’t take on your entire government by myself,” I said. “No hard feelings.”
“Good.” Davis shifted his considerable bulk; the aluminum chair groaned beneath him. I reinforced it with a thread of power, just in case. “So---my man Johnny P was trying to get it together right before the end of the world, huh? Bad luck for the guy. Could have really ended up making something of himself. Instead some scavenger is going to dig up a copy of Bay City Bachelor in a hundred years and wonder who the asshole on the front is.”
“Few of us leave the legacy we hoped to,” I said.
The special agent inhaled once more, treating me to another light show and cloud of chocolate-scented smoke. “You’re a lot different than Brand said.”
“I wasn’t much more than a child back then. A little fire in your youth is normal. It’s the same reason I don’t blame Biehl for showing some emotion. He wants me to be a simple tool that makes his life easier. He has serious problems to solve and doesn’t want me making more of them. I used to think everything revolved around me, too. The world ending does tend to change your perspective. Unfortunately, those lessons always come rather late.”
“Doesn’t get much later than the end,” said Davis. “Guess you got epilogues.”
Several sharp knocks drew our attention to the door. Davis slipped the vape pen back into his pocket just before the door burst open with enough force to rebound off the wall.
I stood with lightning speed, divine sight limning the room in gold and silver. Six different electrical signatures piled into the room, shouting at one another in an unintelligible cacophony. Humans. I blinked my magical vision away.
The sight of the first person to barge into the room sent tingles down my spine. Or, at least, Johnny Parish’s spine. The visceral reaction came from him. Charlotte stood in his memories as a colossus of excellence and competence, determined to rescue her troublesome younger brother at all costs.
Her dark hair was drawn back in a ponytail, allowing one to appreciate the rage etched into her surgically perfect face. A light pink dress clung to her slender frame-- doubtless the work of some blind, nameless master from a remote village in Sardinia. Her shoes were espadrilles seemingly woven from straw in a wicker basket pattern, with pink diamonds the size of a knuckle set onto their tops.
Judging from her fumbling with a pack of cigarettes, the events of today had forced her to at least double her usual cocktail of stimulants and antihypertensives. She managed to extract a cigarette, accidentally tore it to shreds, replaced it with two more that she jammed between her lips. The entire time she ranted in a hoarse frenzy:
“Don’t-give-a-shit-about-your-rules-this-clown-is-vaping-i'll-have-a-cig. Oh god, you’re just a fucking doll Alanna.”
The latter part was spoken to her omnipresent assistant, a petite woman who indeed had an almost doll-like appearance. Alanna’s free hand, steady as a stone, used a gold-plated Zippo to light the cigarettes haphazardly jutting between Charlotte’s lips. As always, a hefty digital tablet was tucked under one arm. The device was a treasure trove of social, financial, business, and personal data related to the Parish family empire.
With them was an unfamiliar lawyer, an impeccably dressed fellow whose composed face revealed nothing of what he thought of the argument unfolding around him.
Besides Charlotte, the noise came from two of the officers from earlier. Henderson kept herself wedged between the groups, restraining her wildly gesturing subordinates. The string of banal insults they hurled Charlotte’s way do not deserve mention. The chief no longer seemed to exist in their eyes; their usual deference meant nothing when confronted with that manicured cyclone.
Charlotte jabbed a trembling finger in their direction. “Just wait until the New York lawyers land, you little rats. I’ll buy your grandmas’ nursing homes. Keep me out of here? You think any of you can keep me out of here? These guys got mortgages, Alanna?”
Alanna tapped a couple fingers onto the tablet and didn’t even bother to look at the still-dark screen. “No.”
“You think I’m blind, bitch?” The twin embers from Charlotte’s cigarettes flared. She tugged at one of her pearl earrings.
“No, no---” Henderson to her officers, “---we can’t arrest her. He has a right to an attorney. You saw the crowd out there, we can’t keep them, no real charge---”
I drained electricity from the overhead fluorescent lights, causing them to flicker. Though I meant to distract everyone and calm them down, it only amplified the chaos, turning everyone’s movements into a frenetic slideshow dance. I reversed the flow of energy until the lights flared and burst.
Darkness settled over the scene, and with it came quiet.
Tiny neon lights danced across the table from me as Davis inhaled his vape pen.
The twin cigarette cherries.
A rectangle of dim light as Alanna activated her tablet.
I snapped, filling the room with hundreds of tiny sparks of static lightning, like stars in the night. Controlling so many disparate packets of electricity drained my mana at an alarming rate, as well as requiring an extraordinary degree of focus. But I have always appreciated the ambience generated from that field of blue-white sparks.
It seemed I still not learned my lesson regarding overt displays of magical power.
Now Charlotte hyperfocused on me alone, her brilliantly overactive mind coalescing into one point, scattered threads of attention knitting back together for a brief moment. Her voice approximated a normal pace for once, slow and deliberate.
“You’re not Johnny. So who are you?”