Chapter 16: A Lot of Important People

The wave of gremlins finally began to die down. Perhaps he’d pulled in all of them within the chitterer’s radius, and there just weren’t enough left right now to respond to the summons. How far did the chitter cry reach? Five blocks? Ten?

Regardless, the last of the gremlins had given up on assaulting him. They hung back, sulking, slinking off into the shadows in search of easier prey.

They were suicidally stupid, but eventually a base cunning had taught them to avoid his aura.

James hadn’t been touched once, but he felt exhausted. Mancini had radioed in shortly after his departure that they’d circle and wait for his go-ahead to return and collect him, and as James walked across the parking lot he thumbed on the radio.

“Mancini, this is Kelly. Cleared for pick up, over.”

“Kelly, this is Mancini. Location? Over.”

“Same spot. Parking lot in the back of the warehouse. I’m moving onto the street to make it easier.”

“Kelly, this is Mancini, we’ll be there in a minute, out.”

James sat on the curb and lay his skillet beside him. Other than as a source of noise to draw the gremlins out, he’d not used it once. Having a wicked aura did that for you, he supposed.

He’d leveled again at the very last. He must have killed - or destroyed, at any rate - several thousand gremlins in the last hour alone. Enough to reach Level 8. With his aura on point, and his Strength and Power up to about the same level, he’d opted for another Aeviternum Point.

No harm in being able to revive himself three times in a row.

After all, there were no guarantees that the Nemesis 2’s were going to be push-overs.

The hummer came around the corner, Mancini leaning out the window with his rifle at the ready, but the Sergeant relaxed at the sight of James alone on the curb. The car pulled up before him and Serenity jumped out the back, both pistols at the ready.

“You look beat,” she said. “Tired already?”

James levered himself upright. “A whiskey’ll keep me going. Throat’s dry, is all.”

Mancini was on high alert. “Let’s get moving, people.”

They scrambled into the back of the Humvee. Only two people fit up front, with the rest having to sit facing each other in the extended cargo bed. A thick awning was wrapped over the top, but James doubted it’d do much to keep gremlins out.

Everybody stared at him expectantly.

“So?” Huffman leaned forward, practically glaring. “You walked the whole way here. How many did you torch? What level you at?”

“Eight,” he said. “But that ain’t all of it. I had a chat with one of their higher ups.”

“You what now?” Huffman sat up stiffly. “You talked to one?”

“Long story. But we -”

“Hey, Mancini!” Huffman scooted up to the window in the back of the cab. “Kelly spoke with the enemy!”

“Great,” muttered James. Serenity was staring at him questioningly, obviously wanting to interrogate him alone.

The Humvee stopped and Mancini’s face appeared in the window. “Kelly, you spoke to a Nemesis?”

“No. One of their bosses. A Monitor.”

“You got intel?”

James considered, then nodded reluctantly. He could tell where this was going, and he felt worn out. “Yeah. I got intel.”

Mancini leaned out of view, and James heard him call someone via the radio. Singh started driving again. Nobody spoke as they all tried to listen in, and then Mancini confirmed something and leaned back into view.

“Major Hackworth wants to talk to you now. We’re heading to the Emergency Management building.”

“What?” Huffman stared at Mancini. “Why? This is army intel, we should debrief him first, then everyone else.”

“Not our ballgame,” said Mancini simply. “We’re not operating on foreign turf. While in the city, we have to play ball, and that means sharing intel with other agencies in real time.”

“Great,” said Serenity, slouching down. “What are the odds they’ll have good whiskey?”

“Or even shitty whiskey,” said James with a wry smile.

Delvecchio gave him an up-nod. “What’d you get? With all your new points? You just keep doubling down on Arete?”

“No,” said James cautiously. “Things got interesting at Level 5.” And he told them about the Benediction, the three choices, the Aeviternum Points, and everything he’d remembered thereafter.

“Hell yeah you went Smite,” said Huffman, giving him an approving nod. “The best defense is an offense, and we’re not going to win this war without wrecking some Nemesis shit.”

“Eloquent,” said Delvecchio with a grin, then pretended to flinch back when Huffman raised a fist as if about to clobber his shoulder. “Mercy! Don’t ruin my good arm, Huff, or I’ll be unable to wipe properly later tonight.”

“Moron.”

Serenity leaned in closer. “For real you’re Level 8?”

Her voice was quiet, strangely tentative.

“Yeah. Several thousand gremlins must have thrown themselves at me.”

“Wow.” But she didn’t sound happy.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.” She looked out the back, over the tailgate, at Queens slowly transforming into Brooklyn.

“Come on now.” He nudged her with his elbow. “We ain’t going to start keeping secrets, are we?”

She glared at him. “You’re one to talk.”

James paused, processing the sudden venom in her voice, and then she pressed the base of her palm against her brow and winced. “Sorry. Sorry. Ignore that. I’m just…” She lowered her voice even further. “We’ve had this good thing going, you know? Bonne and Clyde, it’s how I’ve been thinking of us. But shit went down so fast back there I only got a hundred or so shots off, just enough to his Level 4. Which I dumped into Arete, you’ll be proud to know.”

“Smart move.”

“Yeah, well. Level 4 is nothing compared to 8.” Again she looked away, and this time she hunched her shoulders. “I’m just… fuck. I hate talking about my feelings. Makes me feel like such a little bitch.”

“Hey.” He bumped his shoulder against hers. “Bonnie and Clyde sounds good to me. You’ll catch up real soon.”

“Yeah.” She sighed, deflated, and looked down at her guns. “But Sig Sauer’s have got nothing on your aura. I’m going to have to go do some extracurricular demon hunting if I’m to keep up.”

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And her eyes shone glassily as she teared up.

James studied her profile for a moment, unsure of himself, then decided to just give her space to process her shit. On the streets you learned to do that fast. The world was tough. It didn’t do people any favors to try and insulate them from their pain or grief.

Hell, nobody had done that for him, and if they’d offered, he’d have laughed in their face.

So he just sat next to her and hoped she took comfort from his presence.

“Level 6?” Huffman was incredulous. “How many unspent points you sitting on, you jack ass?”

“Shit, let me count,” said Delvecchio, screwing up his brow in serious thought. “One, two, three, four… fuck, I’m all out of fingers.”

“This ain’t fucking fair.” Huffman slumped back against the siding. “Why the hell did I pull rearguard duty while you got to go to town with a SAW?”

“I mean, I am the best looking -” Delvecchio flinched away again with a laugh as Huffman glared at him. “What? You want to carry around my gun all day?”

“You know I could.”

“I know. But shit, that’s the way it went down. What level did you get to?”

“Four.”

“That’s awesome. What you complaining about?”

The fireteam had agreed before as part of the plan to not spend their points unless their lives depended on it. The military brass wanted to game out their advancement as optimally as possible, and to test out theories on them.

They subsided into silence, and ten minutes later arrived at the NYCEM building in downtown Brooklyn. The place was lit up by mobile light towers, and the level of activity had only increased since they’d been there last. The media was still around with their vans at the outskirts, but security was everywhere, and they couldn’t even get into the parking lot.

Mancini was waved through, and they parked the Humvee over two normal parking spots at the rear of the lot and then trooped back together, guns in their combat carry positions. Serenity had hesitated over her Sigs, then simply decided to carry one in each hand with two extra mags tucked into her belt.

James brought his skillet.

It was starting to feel like a good-luck totem.

They entered the lobby, were processed through security, and after giving up their weapons were met by an exhausted-looking assistant and escorted to the fourth floor to a large meeting room outside of which a gaggle of more exhausted assistants were talking on phones or tapping on tablets.

Everybody stepped aside for their party, and eyes went wide as they seemed to recognize James.

“Fucking celebrity sell-out,” said Serenity with some of her old humor.

James just shook his head.

Their escort opened the double doors to reveal the biggest room they’d yet seen. The central table ran down its length, an oval large enough to accommodate forty people, every chair taken, and a wall of monitors along one side alive with faces as just as many watched the proceedings virtually from who the fuck knew where.

James made out some familiar faces.

The mayor of NYC, for one, seated at the head of the table with two laptops open before him and three assistants hovering right behind, clearly multitasking even now. A few seats down was Deputy Commissioner Mack, and on the other side was the CIA guy, Iverness. He saw the FEMA lady, whatever her name had been, the NYPD captain - Vischenka? And Major Hackworth, close to the foot of the table.

But there were so many more people, most of them in impressive military uniforms or giving off that air of self-importance and gravitas that came with having so much power and respect given to you on a daily basis.

James tried to swallow as every eye turned to fix him where he stood and felt like a butterfly being pinned to a display case.

Didn’t help when he caught sight of Jessica Miles standing against the wall, hair slightly mussed, pencil between her teeth, sending a message on her phone.

The babble of voices stilled, people put away phones, lay down tablets, and the people on the wall monitors turned to focus on the meeting.

Shit.

“Mr. Kelly.” Mayor Liu stood and gestured at one of the few empty chairs at the end of the table. “I wish we could have met earlier. I’m Mayor Liu. In this room are some of the most crucial players in our disaster response team. Introducing them all would take too much time, so let me just say that we have…” And he turned to the monitors as a gray-haired man with stern features sat down at a table, coming into view. “The honor of having the US Secretary of Defense taking part. Good evening, sir.”

The Secretary of Defense merely gestured, too weary and reluctant to make a speech.

“Also in attendance is Mr. Patel, the Deputy National Security Advisor, and General Ruiz from the Joint Chiefs of Staff.”

Polite nods were exchanged.

“But I think we’re all done with formalities and protocol at this point. Major Hackworth has reported that you made contact and spoke with one of the enemy. Is that correct?”

One of the assistants stepped forward to pull out a chair for James. Throat clamped shut, he sat and then slowly placed his hands on the table. Big mistake. His hands reflected the life he’d lived these past seven years. They were large, callused, the nails rough, the seams of his knuckles ingrained with dirt that even a couple of showers had done nothing to remove.

He quickly put them back on his lap.

Everyone was staring at him. Forty sets of eyes, most skeptical, many curious, others disdainful.

James found Hackworth, who gave him an encouraging nod.

“I did, sir,” whispered James.

“I’m sorry, it’s a big room,” said Iverness, the CIA guy. “Could I ask you to speak up, Mr. Kelly?”

James pitched his voice. “I did.”

There was a stir, as if people had half expected him to deny this fact.

“Excellent,” said Mayor Liu. “Please. In your own words. Describe this encounter. Leave absolutely nothing out.”

James made the mistake of looking around again. Grave men and women stared at him from the monitors, most of them backed by official seals from their departments. The rest of the walls were lined with young people, all of them having momentarily ceased their busy activity and messaging to listen.

“You tell ‘em,” said Serenity suddenly into the silence, her voice brazen and tight with nerves. “You got this, James.”

A whole bunch of people looked past him at where Serenity stood by the doors.

“What?” Her voice was defiant, almost shrill. “I gotta ask for permission to speak?”

Several people went to respond, but James turned, met Serenity’s eyes, and when she gave him a wink he felt a measure of confidence return.

He looked back at the mayor.

“All right. From the beginning. I’ll tell you this up front, though. I didn’t get any good news.”

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