Scenes from a Preternatural Presidency -- 5. The Proper Use of Thunderbolts (C)

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Adam and I were suppressing grins, Skuffles didn’t bother, and State’s eyes narrowed before she nodded.

“Well, it’s not as if there’s much choice on offer when it comes to high-level advice on preternatural contacts, and if some will say the President should give all such, she has plenty of other things to do. Besides, I know Ms Fisher and Ms Willis have given help to the Farouts pro bono, more than once, and often to SSAC Fisher as well as Kennewick PD. Mr Vice-President, Mr Director, do you have a problem with ignoring this particular bit of legal advice ?”

Frank shook his head. “No. I understand the legal point, but even Rachel thinks it’s nit-picking. It’s good not to shout about it, though.”

“Nor me, Ms Secretary. Law’s law, but the preternatural brings imperatives it doesn’t allow for.” The Director shrugged. “And if results aren’t all that matter, they are always at the top of my list.”

I blew out a breath. “Thank you both. I don’t like crossing legal lines, but I do what I must. And another reason you’re here now, Ms Secretary, is Nordic repercussions. I have no wish to annoy any of them, and news of the invitation played very heavily there, so we’ll do a White House reception for Thor straight after the movie-night, and invite not only the four Scandinavian and the German ambassadors with families and seniors, but their PMs or whatever, if they care to fly in, and within capacity whoever else you’d like to tickle.” She nodded briskly, looking happier. “Full fig, best glamours, and photo-ops all round, certainly with me, maybe with Thor or other fae - they can play hard to get with cameras, as you know, but some should be willing. Ambassadors and whoever as well. I’m only feeling my way, but as I try to be optimistic, I was wondering what global reaction might be like if whatever the threat is happens in public, on air, and I do successfully thunderbolt something … reprehensible. It’ll be Bonarata all over again, or scaled up, God help me, if that’s even possible. Plus thunder aside, I may have immediately bolted who knows how many energy bars, probably also on air.” I shrugged, more lightly than I felt. “This is not going to leak or heads will roll, but if it happens domestic and international PR is going to have to be smart and swift. If I prep it from here any number of people will notice, as they know you’re here tonight and that something’s up, but if you two manage it under cover of security and liaison over foreign-policy matters any real knowledge should remain strictly contained.”

Adam gave me a thumbs-ups and both State and the Director nodded.

“That makes good sense, Ms President, but what sort of smart and swift did you have in mind ?” State looked introspective. “There won’t be a problem domestically, nor in popular reception elsewhere, I’d think. But at higher levels ? A nuclear superpower having a president who can throw thunderbolts does … resonate uncomfortably.”

Frank winced, and I nodded.

“Tell me, Ms Secretary. That’s one reason for the secrecy unless and until, and I guarantee ap Lugh thought of that, too. But if it does break, some swift truth, for one thing. Gift freely given by Thor, in expression of his and other Valhallans’ gladness about Manannán and Bonarata. Kept secret because, d’oh, presidential security. Strictly, please note, a line-of-sight weapon - I can’t use it round corners or at any great range. And used only in dire need, because while I don’t do murder I certainly defend myself and others any way I can when I must. Let’s hope this time deters any more idiots.”

State nodded. “OK. I see all that and the line-of-sight point is good.”

Jesse leaned forward. “I can do social media, Ms Secretary. Mom called Thunderbird. Thor called her. Now she can do thunderbolts - like she couldn’t before. D’oh. And she can’t serve more than two terms anyway, so forget the fussing and be very glad it worked out.”

There were grins, and State shook her head, not in negation. “Let’s hope, Ms Hauptman. But you should think about a case-study for Others 201 - it’s not as if anyone can do anything about a President with even more magical powers, but that won’t stop some very dark muttering. President She Drops People Right In It scares the pants off plenty of people already, including nice guys and gals, and if this all happens it won’t help any.”

Jesse shrugged. “Tough. One of Mom’s other names is Hey, Where Did My Trousers Go ? Good thing, too.”

“You could say.” State’s tone was dry. “Who bestowed that one ?”

“Then SA Fisher, during that week.”

“Huh. Can’t argue. And I have my orders, so I’d best get to them, Ms President, unless there’s anything else.”

“No. Thank you all for coming over so late”

When only Frank was left Adam poured him another drink, and he sat back, eyeing me.

“You can tell Rachel, Frank, but no-one else, please, though I imagine Jesse will be talking to Andrea. I’ll tell Jenny too, in case whatever I do when whatever it is happens has any legal fallout. But I want the hole card badly.”

He nodded. “That I get, Mercy. I’m just taking it in.” He shook his head. “Every time I think I’ve got my head round your notions of sideways you do it some more.”

Adam smiled. “I’ve told you Mercy is still a waxing power, Frank. The magic from Guayota started it, and with the artefacts she got more from Manannán and all sorts of places.”

It’s me as well, Frank. I have much more magic now than Mercy gave me to start with. Many gifted me with some, but though it makes me it is all her magic too. Skuffles cocked her head at me. Besides, I bet thunderbolt magic will be like slow time - not owned or carried, but accessed through the cloak, and maybe Excalibur.

I nodded. “Me too, Skuffles. And I’m always aware of your magical reserves, so I can’t deny we’ve gone major league. I really was not expecting a gift of thunderbolts, though, and who knows what the rest of the fae agenda is.”

Adam quirked an eyebrow. “Ap Lugh and Edythe were pretty straight and open, love, so earth and fire really do want a job offer, and maybe some fame like Manannán’s Bane.” It was leaning against my chair and I could sense it preen a little. “But for my money there’s also some debt-paying involved, however no fae will say so.”

“Yup. But old debt or something new ? Gray Lords have too many layers. The best news of the evening was just how detached most of the Valhallans are.”

“With you on that. And maybe some new debt, but that means opportunity. Herne and those hounds were pretty interesting.”

“Weren’t they just ?” Jesse’s eyes narrowed. “You think they want some exercise too, Dad ?”

“Could be, Jesse. My wolf thinks the hounds want a proper run.”

“Does it, now ?” I turned it over, but I’d wondered about the Wild Hunt since discovering they were only on a prolonged retreat from the techno-world. “Yes, alright, that makes sense for another Gray Lord layer. And I agree Edythe was straight up, even without the binding geas-oaths they both saw fit to mention.”

Frank blinked. “The thing you did after St Louis ?”

“Yeah. All Gray Lords are oathbound never to seek to deceive me or mine by omission or commission, but that doesn’t mean they blab anything they don’t want to. It might just be manoeuvring to get me to make the offer, and sidestep debt. And I’ll believe the older magics were nagging ap Lugh as well as Thor. Maybe Underhill as well - I’ll be asking her before accepting anything.” I sighed. “I don’t really think I’m being offered a Trojan unicorn, but any fae generosity makes me suspicious, never mind on this scale.”

Jesse gurgled a laugh. “Trojan unicorn is a good one, Mom, though I dunno what Purity would think.”

Skuffles was amused too. I’ll ask her next time we coincide. But I think it should reverse the meaning - a Trojan Horse is a bad surprise, a Trojan Unicorn a good one. Though who finds a giant wooden horse at their door, when they’ve been besieged for ten years, and says ‘Oh, let’s bring it inside straight away’ ? Talk about ignoring a threat environment.

Thoughts tumbled, and I grinned, feeling happier. “You’re right about that, Skuffles, and a good Trojan Unicorn is very sharp. Not hidden bane but hidden benefit, that for some reason they don’t, won’t, or can’t talk about. One to think on. And I need to lie down and do some digesting.”

Sleeping on it all helped, a little, and talking to Underhill next day in the Garden of Manannán’s Death helped more. She was watchful, but confirmed she and ap Lugh had been very aware of what the magics wanted, and agreed with Irpa I had the juice to use them, before smiling at my next question.

“Of course it is our triad, Mercedes. Two of its parts and all the power are mine, but the Duckpond is the crown and as much of you and Skuffles as of me. In the nature of this place and its making it is a conduit only we may access, and it reaches more deeply than any but you have seen.”

“Huh. That sea and over its horizon ?”

“Yes. Its depths, also, and the earth they rest on.”

“Right. And perhaps one concern is that you would much rather, should I in some emergency tap that conduit, I have at least half an idea of whatever it is I’m doing.”

She smiled again, the dangerous one this time. “There is an aspect of that, Mercedes. You must recalibrate for yourself again, certainly. But those magics know what they are doing. And it is partly your coyote ability to find new ways of using and combining magics that has them so eager. They are drawn to you, as many are, and I would not have them come upon you unawares.”

“Ah. Well, that’s some glad and sensible sideways. And a surer imperative than my own curiosity. May we talk practicalities, then ?”

We did, and next morning, in a half-hour coffee-break between a meet-and-greet reception for some interesting veterans who’d done a lot of charitable fundraising and a treasury meeting, Adam and I went Underhill, to the Garden, and Thor gave me the magic. I didn’t feel much except a burst of tingling, but sleepiness was swift and compelling, and my dreams - visions, really - were seriously weird and instructive. I’d always known the fae were deeply into the four elements, and the magics in Underhill’s depths were truly ancient and very pure, oddly reminding me of Medicine Wolf, while also profoundly shaped by her enormous awareness, another commonality. And if earth and fire were taking the lead, air and water were in there too, though water seemed more interested in the triad and the other three in the thunderbolt business in hand - because, I realised at some point, water had already played its part in vengeance when Underhill had made the Fountain and Statue, and I’d duckponded Manannán. Fire and earth, with air in tow, were unassuaged. The way of thunderbolts trickled into my knowledge, and going the other way I did my best to tell the magics about the greater complexity attending a POTUS doing direct smiting, and that whatever the circumstances were they would be more complicated than predatory wyverns, however not dissimilar in essence. I don’t think much got through, but I did offer some sense of coyote sideways, and that was of more … interest isn’t right, but occasioned a stronger sense of acceptance, and I woke feeling very peaceful and hungry. Adam told me it had been only 12 minutes for him, and with gladness all round we went back, and I managed to grab a burger before the treasury meeting.

That evening I nipped back to Kennewick to meet Nuthatch and Pirandella, who were entirely delighted with me having new powers, and would be most observant about the threat, but couldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. I’d also called Medicine Wolf, who came by with Tigger and Young Manitou River West, giving a surprised whuff when it saw me sitting with the earth fae in the garden, wine in hand.

Someone has given you much new magic, Mercy. Underhill ?

“Yup. Do a quick read, please - I would greatly value any insights you can offer.”

I met its eyes, offering events Valhallan, felt them absorbed, and it whuffed again as I sat.

How unexpected and interesting. I shall certainly be alert around you, and thanks to these two Ol’ Manitou River and Koyaanisquat already know, and will be likewise. Ol’ Manitou River and I suspected from St Louis that the triad was a conduit, but did not know for what. And we have not seen it save through you, of course. But you are right that however Underhill and great manitous are on opposite sides of time and place, we are all of the four elements and the deeper time of their balance. But the Fae honour justice and pursue vengeance, as manitous generally do not, and their earth and fire are not as mine, however related, while my waters and air are all my own.

“OK.” I sipped, letting thoughts turn. “Do you see any more Gray Lord layers than my five ?” Tigger, Nuthatch, and Pirandella all looked the question, and I extended fingers one at a time. “Training, so neither party pulls on the other unawares. Appeasing the magics, so they stop nagging Underhill and Gwyn ap Lugh. Appeasing Thor, ditto. Troll business that’ll be connected with having representation in Congress, and consequent leverage. And either paying down debt or building credit against something.”

Pirandella gave me a pixie look. “All of those, surely, Mercy, but also honour given where it is truly due. Thor takes his lead from Underhill, as well as his daughters.”

Nuthatch nodded solemnly. “All know the magics wish to come to you, and to the Path of Mercy, as we earth fae did, and the selkies and oaks. Your modesty is most unusual in one so potent, but you must not let it blind you to the effects of your deserving.”

“Huh. Easier said than done, Nuthatch. And I don’t altogether appreciate having to publish that bard’s song.”

They both smiled.

“We imagine Skuffles liked it.”

“Oh yeah.”

Pirandella smiled some more. “You cannot complain, Mercy, for you hoarded your modesty and gave her none.”

I stared and Medicine Wolf whuffed a laugh.

“You could say. And actually there’s something Skuffles thought up I should tell you about.”

Trojan Unicorns had all of them amused, and while word spread among the fae fast enough I’d made it very clear indeed that my geas about discussing the triad extended to this, in every particular. My performance next day at the last pre-Christmas press conference drove it home, because I frustrated the media no end by talking only about the excellence of Valhallan food and hospitality, flatly refusing to say anything about who else might have been there or what had been discussed. They did get Thor’s scheduled visits in March to Kennewick, the White House reception, and Marvel, with gun-crushing and safety-film thrown in, and before the next press conference, in the first week of the new year, were distracted by the bard’s poem, which brought me some mild amusement among many embarrassments because all the professors Skuffles had tapped for the Old Norse invitation ganged-up on us, squeaking excitement, to demand an account.

Skuffles was game, and Adam and Jesse interested, so I surrendered gracefully and invited them all to dinner at the White House one night. They took the chance to go round the exhibition beforehand, but what they wanted was an exact account of the bard and his delivery. With my nod Skuffles told them, confirming that the written version was exactly what had been chanted, and we learned in the ensuing flood of literary geekiness that there had been more magic at work than we’d supposed, because the calligraphed version could not have existed before the performance - the whole thing was, apparently, oral-formulaic, the bard making it up from a stock of pre-learned half-lines as he went along, and his stock included lots they already knew from Beowulf and some other Old English poems. They did concede that many new ones had been added as well as the shift to what they called Present-Day English, lines like the ravenous Roman, lifeblood’s ruin and ugliest Undead under the sky not often being called for in Old English, or even Old Norse, but I pointed out that if the bard had been living in Valhalla as long as I suspected, and presumably practicing his craft, poems about smiting vamps were only to be expected.

It kept me amused and gave me an ice-breaker in March when Thor came to see Shrek. Once it had become clear troll movie-nights would keep happening we’d bought a proper projector and screen, and commissioned troll-size benches. For this I’d added a Thor-sized stool, courtesy of a carpenter Ramona knew, with a gorgeously embroidered Yakama cushion. Ap Lugh had agreed to come, more in curiosity than trepidation, I thought, and although a Thursday was less than convenient State was already here, with Frank, Rachel, Andrea, Jenny, and several Directors, but lots of people had wanted in, as well as the pack and the Freed, so I had reluctantly confined myself to making the burger mix (just enough to set the hospitality spell going). There were troll- and Thor-sized ones with special buns, and as it was an official reception I’d brought in White House catering staff to mind the grills and garnishes. Matching Valhallan mead was a problem, but Uncle Mike had been persuaded by Skuffles to sell us several kegs of an ale he and Irpa both said would be more than acceptable. There was also plenty of superior finger food, smoked-salmon pastry-puffs with a lemon garnish, delicate wafers with houmous and pine-kernels, little triangular sandwiches with all sorts of good fillings, and bite-size rounds of Benny’s miracle pies.

The dress code was usually informal, but we’d stepped this one up to evening wear, Adam and I went out to receive guests, and the parade of arrivals made the corralled media very happy. Medicine Wolf didn’t need a tux, nor the mini-manitous, but Coyote and Bear were in best buckskins, Zee, Tad, and Uncle Mike in handsome glamour, Jill in one of her Amerman dresses, Joel in a new and very handsome tux, and Lucia in a flared Mexican dress I really liked. Charles and Anna had gone native too, in dark fringed buckskin and a long Navajo dress in deep red wool. Kyle and Warren, who came with Washington, Oregon, and their spouses, were all very fashionable ; Warren wouldn’t do bow-ties any more than ordinary ones, but Kyle had bought him a stunning Zuni western one, with delicately fancy silver aiguilettes and a clasp mosaiced in turquoise. Leslie was on duty though present as a guest, and had gone for Chanel, while Jude in a tux was something to see, as were Jenna and Sally, enjoying the fruits of their business. Sally had also browbeaten Clay and Donna into accepting some high-end gear, which was good, as was Donna’s relative ease - she still didn’t enjoy being around the preternatural, but was proud of a presidential invitation, as well as of her daughter. I was also very happy that Shrek plus genuine curiosity had been enough to tempt Stefan, though he remained more closed than he’d been before Bonarata, and I was oddly relieved to know that the cloak would be blocking any clear perception of my enhanced magics.

Then a large arch opened, and a half-dozen trolls in Chanel and Dior came through, bracketing ap Lugh, Edythe (who’d asked for an invitation, saying only that she liked Shrek), and Thor, and if the Gray Lords were as elegantly glamoured as always, he was in a form-fitting black leather tux and trousers, with an embroidered silk shirt and green cravat, that had more women than me humming a little appreciation as I stepped forward and did the official welcomes, with gladness felt by all. The trolls and Thor headed round the house to the back, but the Gray Lords came through the house with Adam and me, and we lingered briefly in the kitchen when Edythe put a small hand on my arm.

“There is nothing clearer, Mercedes Elf-friend, though my dreams do not cease troubling me, but there is one thing - a fragment that must come from a future where you have defeated the threat.” She smiled very disconcertingly. “That mortals should be deeply astonished is no surprise, but I rather think you are going to astonish us.”

“Huh.” I shrugged. “Good to know, Edythe, though as I have no idea what I might do I can only file that away to think about. I’m better pleased to have confirmation of at least the possibility of success.”

“As am I, Edythe.” I could feel Adam’s relief. “We are both gladdened by your care.”

She nodded, and Ap Lugh smiled slightly as she spoke.

“I please myself also, and guard our own interests, as yours. I cannot aver it, but it may be that I have no clear vision because that future does not happen, and whatever does blocks me from knowing it.”

“Huh again. Another comforting thought, however necessarily taken under advisement, and more gladness. But we should head out back - all sorts of beings to meet.”

The prospect didn’t thrill them, but we discovered Thor was quite taken with Medicine Wolf, probably on grounds of scale, equally taken with Tigger, for the sabre canines, only glared at Stefan a little, and was charmed by Jesse introducing Jenna, Sally, and their parents. It wasn’t clear he quite grokked social media, but he did like the young, and that they were all very attractive and superbly dressed girls wasn’t hurting any, though I knew it made Adam want to growl - but so did Jesse charming any male. There was some useful talk - I’d asked Clay Willis and Tony Montenegro partly so they and Thor could speak of what the KPD might have to offer - and after a bit, while ale was sipped and finger-food devoured with appreciation, more general mingling happened. My Kennewick friends including Zee and Uncle Mike were mostly gathered with Ramona, the Freed, and the pack, talking happily about a baseball game in which a Freed-heavy Cougars team had wiped the floor with the division favourites, Elder Spirits and others were talking to Medicine Wolf and the mini-manitous, and I was ice-breaking with Thor, Gray Lords, Frank, Rachel, Andrea, Jenny, State, and the girls. Irpa and other trolls were listening, with a professionally intent Leslie. The Bard’s royalties were a necessary business, but to my surprise proved far more useful than even Skuffles had expected.

However badly it embarrassed me, the praise-song had commanded a lot of media attention and pleased all sorts of people. Whether any of the academic explanations of oral-formulaism had been understood by the wider public wasn’t so clear, but lines like brutish Bonarata, ghost-thief and -braider, darkness deluded dismissed into dust, and the vilest all vacuumed to melt in the mantle had been enough to ensure roaring sales, requests to translate into every language under the sun, sample for rapping purposes, perform live, record, adapt into operatic form, and who knew what else, so there was an absurd amount of money owing, as well as multiple professorial pleas for anything anyone could give them. Valhallan visits were out of the question, and the bard wasn’t keen on returning Overhill even briefly, but a meeting at Walla Walla was possible, and release of further Old English and Old Norse materials in his memory and various fae libraries would complement the Fae Embassy’s cultural resources programme and boost their PR nicely. There was also some question of a debt the bard owed someone in Valhalla that an influx of several tens of millions of bucks might offset, as well as bardic vanity that could be assuaged, that I decided might be sixth and seventh layers of Gray-Lord reasoning. Either way there were a lot of possibilities that interested State as well as ap Lugh and even Thor, and some additional meetings around the White House reception were arranged to mutual satisfaction, with a side-helping of amusement at my admittedly tenuous hope that alternative versions of Beowulf or whatever would distract attention from the bard’s more recent efforts.