Scenes from a Preternatural Presidency -- 5. The Proper Use of Thunderbolts (E)
Agents were ringing me, another speaking urgently on his phone, and the senior trying to argue with Adam’s dominance, his arm round a still shaking Jesse. Jude and Leslie were holding Jenna, and Mary held Sara and Josh, faces streaked with tears but both keeping it together, bless them. I could hear sirens and choppers, the TV crew across the street were also shaking but still filming, if keeping their distance, and the chances they hadn’t gone global were nil. The restaurant owners were holding each other too, and while I can’t say priorities tumbled they lurched around a bit, and with another long glug of water I found enough voice to grab an agent’s attention.
“Anderson, do we know if the police or civilians took any casualties ?”
“Bruises and scrapes, Ms President, but nothing worse that I’ve heard.” He had a reproachful look beneath his pallor. “And we have to get you out of here now.”
I knew the drill, but also things he didn’t. “Not going to happen. Necessity. All those choppers are ours ?”
“Yes. Airspace very sealed indeed.”
“Right. Get me your Director, please.” He whipped out a phone and dialled. “What else is happening ?”
“Civilian and cell-phone systems have been shut down, police are cordoning off the area and hustling tourists out. FBI are on their way. But there might be follow-up - please, Ms President.” He handed me his phone. “The Director.”
For a human the Director’s desperation dominance was decent, but as even Bran mostly bounced off me he didn’t make so much as a dent.
“Not going to happen, Mr Director - this was not a feint, believe me, and however I’m in a lot of pain there is critical stuff only I can do. I’ll make it an order if I must, but I’d rather save what juice I have left and show’s better than tell. Are you seeing that thunderbolt on TV ?”
“So nothing’s coming up 33rd that way until we can shift it, the area is sealed, and we control the air. Plus, ap Lugh and Thor at least will be here soon. You really want someone else having to deal with Gray Lords and Valhallans ?”
“If only. And while I grant you I’m in no shape to do it again for a bit, if I’d followed SOP there would presently be a smoking crater and a whole bunch of body parts here, not a cooling thunderbolt and no casualties except the occupants of that Navigator.”
“Un huh. Long-wheelbase model, black trim, recent.” I pushed through pain to memory and gave him the plate I’d glimpsed. “Please make sure State knows what’s happened and triggers that PR stuff. And patch me through to the Pentagon, please.”
I could feel his flaring disapproval and worry, and heard him barking other orders, but he did as asked and listened in as I told a duty general to get an audit of military-grade HE underway at once, because even if all 120 cubic feet had been crammed full what had exploded was way more powerful than anything civilians used. Intuition was pinging, and I told him to start with Fort Pickett and Virginia National Guard access.
“I might be off base, General, but I think my backbrain noticed something I haven’t caught up with yet.”
After a shaken but intrigued ‘At once, Ms President’ I rang off, gave Anderson back his phone, saw a bunch of FBI jackets coming past the many police cars now closing the P-end of the block, marshalled my bruised brain some more, and crooked a gaunt finger at the restaurant owners, who came across, a mess of emotions visible in drawn faces. Adam came back too, and sat beside me, one arm around me and the other stroking Skuffles.
“I’m sorry about all this, and there will be compensation for the time you’ll have to be closed, but keep the kitchen running now please, and make sure all the food I nabbed from these good folk goes on my bill, plus full replacements of choice. And if you could get my party inside and fed I’d be grateful.”
Adam growled protest but I shook my head, briefly, as it hurt.
“Needs must, love. Too much only I can do. Told the Director.”
The man who’d surrendered his Hawaiian raised a hand and spoke in a shaky voice.
“Ms President, ma’am, you saved all of us, God knows how and at what cost though I can see it. You don’t need to pay for my food.”
The simple kindness heartened me, and I gave him a crooked smile.
“Actually I do, sir. There are rules about accepting gifts, but thanks for the thought. And for the pizza - thunderbolts use a lot of energy.”
“Thunderbolts ?”
“Un huh. A precautionary gift from Thor, bless him, who is about to arrive.”
Even through their bruises my magical senses were pinging, and I turned with Adam to see an arch form in the street. Gwyn ap Lugh, Edythe, and Thor came through, followed by Irpa, human-size, and while Thor stalked off towards the thunderbolt, frowning, Irpa in tow, the others headed over and I told the agents to let them through before turning back to Adam.
“Jesse and the others ?”
“Shaken but OK. You and Skuffles are the only ones hurt.”
“Un un. Bruised police and tourists, and two dead bombers in the Navigator.” Some of my backbrain caught up with me. “Whom I hope some fae magic might help us ID, though I find I have more than half-a-guess. If Leslie’s willing to wait on food she should come see this.”
He gave me a long look but went, and I turned to the Gray Lords.
“Gwyn ap Lugh, Edythe. Your warning and gifts have made me very glad.”
“As we rejoice in your survival, Mercedes Elf-friend.”
“And you have indeed astonished us, as well as another global audience.” For the second time I could remember there was no sign of Edythe’s yo-yo. “What happened, if you know ?”
“Earth, fire, and air happened, Edythe. As it became clear Skuffles and I with the thunderbolt could not contain the explosion they … I cannot aver it, but came to us in full ? Or through us, I think. Earth gave the strength and fire with air took away the heat and energy. I trust Underhill has sustained no harm in their doing so ?”
“None of which we know, Mercedes.” Ap Lugh had a look that in anyone else I might have called croggled. “Earth, fire, and air came through you and Skuffles ?”
That is what it felt like, Gwyn ap Lugh. Skuffles sounded as bruised as I felt. I think they would not let the thunderbolt fail of its purpose, and acted as they felt necessary. I am very glad they did so, and ask that you tell them and Underhill of our great gladness, for I do not think we will be doing anything magical for a while yet.
“Nor should you, Skuffles.” Ap Lugh eyed the thunderbolt, or perhaps Thor prodding it with a large finger. “This was yet another mighty deed.”
I was too tired to shrug. “If you say so, Gwyn ap Lugh. Edythe, do you have any sense that it is not over ?”
“None, Mercedes, and every sense that it is. The future that was dark cleared with your act.” She gave me a sly smile. “And if you had any thought of being a one-term president, you should think again.”
If I’d had the energy I might have rolled my eyes, though she was probably right, dammit, but there were more pressing issues as Adam returned with Leslie, and Thor turned from prodding the thunderbolt to head towards us with Irpa.
“God above, Mercy, thank you for Jenna’s life, and mine and Jude’s. And Ms President, what can I do ?”
“Nada, Leslie. Jesse’s life too, as well as mine and Adam’s, and everyone on this block at least. And though I’m sorry to put you back on duty, SSAC, and I promise we’ll get to food soon, two things. Watch and learn whatever, and outrank any of the zillion incoming FBI guys and gals as necessary.”
That got a half-smile, but it faded as a shadow fell over us and I turned in my seat.
“Thor, your gift has made us very glad. Irpa.”
Thor gave me a severe look, and Irpa a thumbs-up he didn’t see.
“Mercedes Troll-friend, what did you do to that poor thunderbolt ?”
I sighed, wishing everything didn’t hurt so much.
“I inverted its squish-axis and equated momentums.” I thought about it. “Momenta ?”
There was a deep silence in which I saw Irpa and Edythe stifle grins. Thor’s look went from severe to severely bemused, and one large foot tapped twice.
“You inverted its squish-axis.” He made it sound like a crossword clue he couldn’t solve. “Perhaps you might … gloss that a little.”
My shrug was minimal because moving hurt.
“You throw a thunderbolt, you squish something. My target was cold iron that was going to go squish anyway, so I switched things round. Worked beautifully, and stopped the Navigator dead as well as containing it. The momenta cancelled out. It was the explosives that were the overkill, until earth, fire, and air dealt with them.”
Talking hurt too, so I stopped, but while ap Lugh was relaying what I’d already said about elements I saw something across the street that sat me up, despite the pain, and so did Skuffles. Adam tensed.
“What, love ?”
“Ghosts. And ID.” However I hurt my brain was abruptly clear, priorities lining up, and I took a deep breath. “SSAC, you have your dictaphone, by any chance ?”
“I do.”
“Good. On the table, please, running, and get that camera crew over here.”
Leslie set the dictaphone down and went, brushing past a protesting agent with a snapped order, and I looked up.
“Gwyn ap Lugh, if Herne and the Wild Hunt would care for some righteous exercise and can be here in five, that would be good. And if your spectral horses could accompany them to bear captives back, that would be better. Nemane would be useful too.” He blinked but after a second nodded, and I spoke to air. “Da, if you hear me, please get here fast. Or any Elder Spirit.”
Adam was staring at me, and so were Edythe, Thor, Irpa, and the other diners as I drank more water to clear my throat. Leslie returned with the WETA camera crew, and I wryly thought that PBS deserved the luck. The reporter was a thirty-something African American, clearly shocky but holding it together, and I looked him in the eye.
“Sir, you can keep filming, and you can stay close enough for sound, but the broadcast stops now, until I tell you it can resume. Clear ?”
“Uh, clear to me, Ms President, and dear God, thank you for our lives, but the station won’t wear that.”
“You’re welcome, sir, and they have no choice.” I gestured to the dictaphone and spoke as clearly as I could, giving the date and with a glance at my phone the time to the second. “Executive Order Number 14875. By the constitutional powers invested in me as serving President of the United States of America, no television or radio station within the USA may broadcast, share, or otherwise make publicly available in any way the live video and audio stream now being filmed by a WETA-TV crew on 33rd Street NW, Washington DC, until further notice, on penalty of prosecution for obstruction of justice amounting to high treason and complicity in the attempted presidential assassination that has just occurred. By my hand this day, She Doesn’t Only Fix Cars, She Drops People Right In It. End text of Executive Order. It’ll only be for a few hours, sir, but I mean every word. Tell me when we’re off air.”
His hands were shaking as he took out his phone, but it rang before he could dial and as soon as he had it to his ear he nodded at me.
“WETA’s stopped its broadcast and distribution, but is recording us, Ms President.”
“That’s fine, sir, as is maximal sale as and when, and you’ll soon see why. Just do not pass anything on to anyone.” I drank again, and called the Director of the FBI before once more giving date and exact time. “Executive Order Number 14876. By the constitutional powers invested in me as serving President of the United States of America, in light of their involvement in the attempted presidential assassination this day on 33rd Street NW, Washington DC, the John Lauren Society is hereby declared a banned terrorist organisation. All assets are to be sequestered with immediate effect, and all known members detained for interrogation concerning possible complicity in high treason, terrorism, attempted mass-murder, and illegal possession of classified military high explosives. By my hand this day, She Doesn’t Only Fix Cars, She Drops People Right In It. End text of Executive Order.”
“I’m looking at the would-be assassins’ ghosts, Mr Director, and I recognise both, but I’ll try for some more admissible evidence. Watch, but start those balls rolling now. With any luck those truly in the know will be in custody before dawn, but I want a very clean sweep.”
I almost heard his blink but he was good.
“Thank you. Here we go.”
I gave Adam the phone to point as a bruised tingle announced the arrival mid-street of Coyote, in human form, whistling as he stared at the thunderbolt but heading straight towards me, frowning concern as he took in the state Skuffles and I were in.
“Seriously surprising daughter, very nice one and then some, but you’re not looking so good. Nor is Skuffles.”
“Tell me, Da. We’re going to need a bunch of Bear’s feeding-up, but it was alright on the night. Meanwhile, see those ghosts over there ?”
He turned, eyes narrowing. “I do, daughter.”
“Get them over here, would you ? Some camera shots of them would be good, if we can manage it.”
He gave me a curious look but nodded, going coyote and bounding across to the far sidewalk to snap the startled ghosts into motion like a sheepdog after strays.
“Skuffles, you’re as bruised as I am but if Irpa gives you the juice could you glamour those ghosts visible to the camera ?”
I can try, Mercy. Don’t want to do anything much but I see your point.
“Nor me, and thanks. Irpa, would you mind lending Skuffles some glamour to project ?”
Troll eyebrows were high, but she nodded.
“Not in the least, Mercy, but I dunno if glamour will stick to ghosts.”
“Our intents aren’t bruised, Irpa, however magics are drained.”
“Point, but even so.”
“I can assist, Irpa.” Edythe’s yo-yo had reappeared. “And tonight is one for many books.”
I murmured gladness, dredging up what little I had left to offer Skuffles as she rose and Coyote herded the skittering newbie ghosts in before morphing human and somehow grasping two ghostly collars. I didn’t try to follow the magics Irpa and Edythe offered, concentrating on my intent desire for maximal visibility in the name of justice, and felt bleak satisfaction as Sarah Clements glimmered into human view, pale but recognisable, with her cousin who’d tried to give her a false alibi in Paul Harris’s slander case and wound up doing a year for perjury. Adam’s breath hissed, and Leslie’s. I looked at the WETA guy.
“Are they showing on camera, sir ?”
He’d gone white again despite mid-brown skin, but glanced at his camera-gal who nodded and spoke.
“Woman, blue and blonde, maybe thirty, man, blue and blond, older. Uh, Ms. President.”
“Not a problem, and thank you, ma’am. Sarah Clements and Alexander Wood, both known JLS, and now both known as truly vile would-be terrorists and mass-murderers. Adam, the Director can see them ?”
He checked and nodded, holding down his rage with the fools. “He can, love, clearly.”
“Good.” More magic swelled. “Da, hold them there a minute ?”
If Coyote replied I didn’t hear him because an enormous arch had opened and the street was abruptly full of belling hounds and spectral horses, with Herne astride a horse like the one I’d seen Zee use for the faerie rade at the Medicine Wolf Accords but its white twin. Nemane was there too and came to stand beside ap Lugh as Herne swung down lightly, antlers gleaming in the fading light while hounds and horses looked at the thunderbolt, and offered me a shallow bow as his owl’s gaze took in my condition, with Skuffles’s battered ruff.
“Mercedes Troll-friend, Prince Gwyn ap Lugh tells me you and Skuffles have done another mighty deed, and that there is a righteous hunt for us, if we wish it.”
I sat up as best I could, taking a deep breath as Adam’s arm came comfortingly round me.
“How mighty is not for me to say, Herne the Hunter, but forgive my not rising in its aftermath. Prices must be paid. And there is truly a righteous hunt, if you wish it. Do you see these ghosts that glamour limns ?”
“I do.”
I was aware of hounds and horses gathering around us as the spooked TV crew shifting back to widen their shot, though the soundman stayed close, boom mike aimed at me. Another deep breath, marshalling necessary words.
“They were driver and passenger in a Lincoln Navigator some remains of which are within the thunderbolt. It bore many hundreds of pounds of high explosives, and had the thunderbolt not contained their effects many and many would have died this day. Nemane, is it possible that we might see, just before the thunderbolt within which they died engulfed and halted it, that which contained the bodies these ghosts fled ?”
Beady eyes looked at me with what I thought was real surprise.
“Nice wording, Coyote’s daughter. Maybe. Edythe ?”
“Oh yes. The Hunt rides for us as well as Mercedes Elf-friend, and consider the cold iron in this.” Edythe smiled, the frightening one. “Besides, it is only more forensics.”
Ap Lugh half-smiled. “Truth, and simple enough.”
He gestured and spectral horses and hounds gave space. How simple it really was I neither knew nor cared - that spell was well within fae capacity, Nemane had affinity with the dead, the ghosts were right there, and I was more interested in getting a good look at the Navigator that shimmered into view. FBI agents had cameras pointing, and Leslie was giving precise detail to dictaphone and phone, including commendably accurate police shots starring the windshield with the fact that Clements had been the driver I’d half-glimpsed, and as Adam and I went round the side she followed. The windows were darkened but as we reached the back ap Lugh gestured sharply and the tailgate opened, rising to show the solid stack of boxed HE filling all those cubic feet. Adam leaned in and gave the dozen US army serial numbers and codes he could see, craned his neck, counting, and ducked back out.
“At least four hundred … kilos of battlefield HE.”
Adam had never yet sworn on camera but I knew he’d come close.
“Oh yeah. Just like K-K-Kantrip and human collateral, love. No polite words cover it. SSAC, the Pentagon has those serial numbers ?”
Leslie had her phone to her ear and nodded. “Yes, they’re patched in. And someone says Fort Pickett was spot on. Military Police are scrambling.”
“Un huh, but the Hunt will have priority. As it does now.”
I’d like to say I strode back round the Lincoln as it vanished but walked is generous, even with Adam’s arm and a sense of countergrav from Excalibur that had me resting a grateful hand on its warm hilt. I stopped a few feet in front of the ghosts, still held by Coyote, and turned to Herne, flanked by the lead hounds.
“Herne the Hunter and all Hounds of the Hunt, with the spectral horses of Prince Gwyn ap Lugh, know that in life these bore the names Sarah Colquhoun Clements and Alexander Basildon Wood, and were known as haters of the preternatural, active members of the John Lauren Society, as they are now known in dishonourable death to have been willing to commit mass-murder and terrorism, with the further sin of suicide. Both lived in the state of Virginia, south of here, and those I would have you seek this night, there or elsewhere, and deliver alive to Federal custody at the police station at 3320 Idaho Avenue NW, here in Washington, D.C., are all who had sure foreknowledge of their crime, who aided in its planning, supplied or enabled the theft of explosives and constructed the bomb, bolstered resolves to murder so many others with themselves, and show themselves abomination, uncaring of whom they slay, false to their nation and laws, as to the Christian God they claim to honour and serve.”
Antlers gleamed again as he nodded before turning for a moment to sweep his gaze across eager hounds, and turn back.
“Truly that is a righteous hunt, Mercedes Troll-friend, and we are glad to accept your charge.”
“As I am glad to hear you, Herne the Hunter. One thing more, and you may begin your hunt.” I swallowed, once again gave date and exact time, and looked at a very wide-eyed Leslie. “Tell me if I forget anything that matters, please, SSAC. Executive Order Number 14877. By the constitutional powers invested in me as serving President of the United States of America, I declare that Herne the Hunter, the fifty couples of the Wild Hunt, and the spectral horses of Prince Gwyn ap Lugh are now and shall until tomorrow’s dawn remain duly deputised Federal agents of the United States of America, fully empowered to arrest and transport to police custody any and all who had prior knowledge of or in any knowing way assisted in planning, facilitating, or executing the attempted presidential assassination and act of mass-murder and terrorism that occurred this evening on 33rd Street NW, Georgetown ; and do further declare that whatever state or territory of the union such persons shall be found in, no legal claims of invalid authority, lack of probable cause, or failure to mirandize any and all such persons as Herne and the Wild Hunt may arrest to deliver to police custody shall prevent their federal trials or in any way forestall, impede, or impugn any verdict a duly sworn jury shall render in such trials. By my hand this day, She Doesn’t Only Fix Cars, She Drops People Right In It. End text of Executive Order. SSAC ?”
It was Leslie’s turn to take a deep breath. “That covers it, Ms President.”
“Good. Thank you, SSAC. Herne the Hunter, Hounds of the Wild Hunt, Horses of Prince Gwyn ap Lugh, you have the full authority of the United States Government in your righteous hunt for those who have so fouled their souls and scoffed at all laws. And without offence, may the Christian God in whom I believe bless you, aid you, and keep you as you seek your lawful prey.”
Many fae eyebrows were high but a slow smile spread across Herne’s face.
“Well, there is a rare departure, Mercedes Troll-friend, and we are glad now to hunt the wicked in your name as President of the United States, and all righteousness.”
“Anderson, do we know if the police or civilians took any casualties ?”
“Bruises and scrapes, Ms President, but nothing worse that I’ve heard.” He had a reproachful look beneath his pallor. “And we have to get you out of here now.”
I knew the drill, but also things he didn’t. “Not going to happen. Necessity. All those choppers are ours ?”
“Yes. Airspace very sealed indeed.”
“Right. Get me your Director, please.” He whipped out a phone and dialled. “What else is happening ?”
“Civilian and cell-phone systems have been shut down, police are cordoning off the area and hustling tourists out. FBI are on their way. But there might be follow-up - please, Ms President.” He handed me his phone. “The Director.”
For a human the Director’s desperation dominance was decent, but as even Bran mostly bounced off me he didn’t make so much as a dent.
“Not going to happen, Mr Director - this was not a feint, believe me, and however I’m in a lot of pain there is critical stuff only I can do. I’ll make it an order if I must, but I’d rather save what juice I have left and show’s better than tell. Are you seeing that thunderbolt on TV ?”
“So nothing’s coming up 33rd that way until we can shift it, the area is sealed, and we control the air. Plus, ap Lugh and Thor at least will be here soon. You really want someone else having to deal with Gray Lords and Valhallans ?”
“If only. And while I grant you I’m in no shape to do it again for a bit, if I’d followed SOP there would presently be a smoking crater and a whole bunch of body parts here, not a cooling thunderbolt and no casualties except the occupants of that Navigator.”
“Un huh. Long-wheelbase model, black trim, recent.” I pushed through pain to memory and gave him the plate I’d glimpsed. “Please make sure State knows what’s happened and triggers that PR stuff. And patch me through to the Pentagon, please.”
I could feel his flaring disapproval and worry, and heard him barking other orders, but he did as asked and listened in as I told a duty general to get an audit of military-grade HE underway at once, because even if all 120 cubic feet had been crammed full what had exploded was way more powerful than anything civilians used. Intuition was pinging, and I told him to start with Fort Pickett and Virginia National Guard access.
“I might be off base, General, but I think my backbrain noticed something I haven’t caught up with yet.”
After a shaken but intrigued ‘At once, Ms President’ I rang off, gave Anderson back his phone, saw a bunch of FBI jackets coming past the many police cars now closing the P-end of the block, marshalled my bruised brain some more, and crooked a gaunt finger at the restaurant owners, who came across, a mess of emotions visible in drawn faces. Adam came back too, and sat beside me, one arm around me and the other stroking Skuffles.
“I’m sorry about all this, and there will be compensation for the time you’ll have to be closed, but keep the kitchen running now please, and make sure all the food I nabbed from these good folk goes on my bill, plus full replacements of choice. And if you could get my party inside and fed I’d be grateful.”
Adam growled protest but I shook my head, briefly, as it hurt.
“Needs must, love. Too much only I can do. Told the Director.”
The man who’d surrendered his Hawaiian raised a hand and spoke in a shaky voice.
“Ms President, ma’am, you saved all of us, God knows how and at what cost though I can see it. You don’t need to pay for my food.”
The simple kindness heartened me, and I gave him a crooked smile.
“Actually I do, sir. There are rules about accepting gifts, but thanks for the thought. And for the pizza - thunderbolts use a lot of energy.”
“Thunderbolts ?”
“Un huh. A precautionary gift from Thor, bless him, who is about to arrive.”
Even through their bruises my magical senses were pinging, and I turned with Adam to see an arch form in the street. Gwyn ap Lugh, Edythe, and Thor came through, followed by Irpa, human-size, and while Thor stalked off towards the thunderbolt, frowning, Irpa in tow, the others headed over and I told the agents to let them through before turning back to Adam.
“Jesse and the others ?”
“Shaken but OK. You and Skuffles are the only ones hurt.”
“Un un. Bruised police and tourists, and two dead bombers in the Navigator.” Some of my backbrain caught up with me. “Whom I hope some fae magic might help us ID, though I find I have more than half-a-guess. If Leslie’s willing to wait on food she should come see this.”
He gave me a long look but went, and I turned to the Gray Lords.
“Gwyn ap Lugh, Edythe. Your warning and gifts have made me very glad.”
“As we rejoice in your survival, Mercedes Elf-friend.”
“And you have indeed astonished us, as well as another global audience.” For the second time I could remember there was no sign of Edythe’s yo-yo. “What happened, if you know ?”
“Earth, fire, and air happened, Edythe. As it became clear Skuffles and I with the thunderbolt could not contain the explosion they … I cannot aver it, but came to us in full ? Or through us, I think. Earth gave the strength and fire with air took away the heat and energy. I trust Underhill has sustained no harm in their doing so ?”
“None of which we know, Mercedes.” Ap Lugh had a look that in anyone else I might have called croggled. “Earth, fire, and air came through you and Skuffles ?”
That is what it felt like, Gwyn ap Lugh. Skuffles sounded as bruised as I felt. I think they would not let the thunderbolt fail of its purpose, and acted as they felt necessary. I am very glad they did so, and ask that you tell them and Underhill of our great gladness, for I do not think we will be doing anything magical for a while yet.
“Nor should you, Skuffles.” Ap Lugh eyed the thunderbolt, or perhaps Thor prodding it with a large finger. “This was yet another mighty deed.”
I was too tired to shrug. “If you say so, Gwyn ap Lugh. Edythe, do you have any sense that it is not over ?”
“None, Mercedes, and every sense that it is. The future that was dark cleared with your act.” She gave me a sly smile. “And if you had any thought of being a one-term president, you should think again.”
If I’d had the energy I might have rolled my eyes, though she was probably right, dammit, but there were more pressing issues as Adam returned with Leslie, and Thor turned from prodding the thunderbolt to head towards us with Irpa.
“God above, Mercy, thank you for Jenna’s life, and mine and Jude’s. And Ms President, what can I do ?”
“Nada, Leslie. Jesse’s life too, as well as mine and Adam’s, and everyone on this block at least. And though I’m sorry to put you back on duty, SSAC, and I promise we’ll get to food soon, two things. Watch and learn whatever, and outrank any of the zillion incoming FBI guys and gals as necessary.”
That got a half-smile, but it faded as a shadow fell over us and I turned in my seat.
“Thor, your gift has made us very glad. Irpa.”
Thor gave me a severe look, and Irpa a thumbs-up he didn’t see.
“Mercedes Troll-friend, what did you do to that poor thunderbolt ?”
I sighed, wishing everything didn’t hurt so much.
“I inverted its squish-axis and equated momentums.” I thought about it. “Momenta ?”
There was a deep silence in which I saw Irpa and Edythe stifle grins. Thor’s look went from severe to severely bemused, and one large foot tapped twice.
“You inverted its squish-axis.” He made it sound like a crossword clue he couldn’t solve. “Perhaps you might … gloss that a little.”
My shrug was minimal because moving hurt.
“You throw a thunderbolt, you squish something. My target was cold iron that was going to go squish anyway, so I switched things round. Worked beautifully, and stopped the Navigator dead as well as containing it. The momenta cancelled out. It was the explosives that were the overkill, until earth, fire, and air dealt with them.”
Talking hurt too, so I stopped, but while ap Lugh was relaying what I’d already said about elements I saw something across the street that sat me up, despite the pain, and so did Skuffles. Adam tensed.
“What, love ?”
“Ghosts. And ID.” However I hurt my brain was abruptly clear, priorities lining up, and I took a deep breath. “SSAC, you have your dictaphone, by any chance ?”
“I do.”
“Good. On the table, please, running, and get that camera crew over here.”
Leslie set the dictaphone down and went, brushing past a protesting agent with a snapped order, and I looked up.
“Gwyn ap Lugh, if Herne and the Wild Hunt would care for some righteous exercise and can be here in five, that would be good. And if your spectral horses could accompany them to bear captives back, that would be better. Nemane would be useful too.” He blinked but after a second nodded, and I spoke to air. “Da, if you hear me, please get here fast. Or any Elder Spirit.”
Adam was staring at me, and so were Edythe, Thor, Irpa, and the other diners as I drank more water to clear my throat. Leslie returned with the WETA camera crew, and I wryly thought that PBS deserved the luck. The reporter was a thirty-something African American, clearly shocky but holding it together, and I looked him in the eye.
“Sir, you can keep filming, and you can stay close enough for sound, but the broadcast stops now, until I tell you it can resume. Clear ?”
“Uh, clear to me, Ms President, and dear God, thank you for our lives, but the station won’t wear that.”
“You’re welcome, sir, and they have no choice.” I gestured to the dictaphone and spoke as clearly as I could, giving the date and with a glance at my phone the time to the second. “Executive Order Number 14875. By the constitutional powers invested in me as serving President of the United States of America, no television or radio station within the USA may broadcast, share, or otherwise make publicly available in any way the live video and audio stream now being filmed by a WETA-TV crew on 33rd Street NW, Washington DC, until further notice, on penalty of prosecution for obstruction of justice amounting to high treason and complicity in the attempted presidential assassination that has just occurred. By my hand this day, She Doesn’t Only Fix Cars, She Drops People Right In It. End text of Executive Order. It’ll only be for a few hours, sir, but I mean every word. Tell me when we’re off air.”
His hands were shaking as he took out his phone, but it rang before he could dial and as soon as he had it to his ear he nodded at me.
“WETA’s stopped its broadcast and distribution, but is recording us, Ms President.”
“That’s fine, sir, as is maximal sale as and when, and you’ll soon see why. Just do not pass anything on to anyone.” I drank again, and called the Director of the FBI before once more giving date and exact time. “Executive Order Number 14876. By the constitutional powers invested in me as serving President of the United States of America, in light of their involvement in the attempted presidential assassination this day on 33rd Street NW, Washington DC, the John Lauren Society is hereby declared a banned terrorist organisation. All assets are to be sequestered with immediate effect, and all known members detained for interrogation concerning possible complicity in high treason, terrorism, attempted mass-murder, and illegal possession of classified military high explosives. By my hand this day, She Doesn’t Only Fix Cars, She Drops People Right In It. End text of Executive Order.”
“I’m looking at the would-be assassins’ ghosts, Mr Director, and I recognise both, but I’ll try for some more admissible evidence. Watch, but start those balls rolling now. With any luck those truly in the know will be in custody before dawn, but I want a very clean sweep.”
I almost heard his blink but he was good.
“Thank you. Here we go.”
I gave Adam the phone to point as a bruised tingle announced the arrival mid-street of Coyote, in human form, whistling as he stared at the thunderbolt but heading straight towards me, frowning concern as he took in the state Skuffles and I were in.
“Seriously surprising daughter, very nice one and then some, but you’re not looking so good. Nor is Skuffles.”
“Tell me, Da. We’re going to need a bunch of Bear’s feeding-up, but it was alright on the night. Meanwhile, see those ghosts over there ?”
He turned, eyes narrowing. “I do, daughter.”
“Get them over here, would you ? Some camera shots of them would be good, if we can manage it.”
He gave me a curious look but nodded, going coyote and bounding across to the far sidewalk to snap the startled ghosts into motion like a sheepdog after strays.
“Skuffles, you’re as bruised as I am but if Irpa gives you the juice could you glamour those ghosts visible to the camera ?”
I can try, Mercy. Don’t want to do anything much but I see your point.
“Nor me, and thanks. Irpa, would you mind lending Skuffles some glamour to project ?”
Troll eyebrows were high, but she nodded.
“Not in the least, Mercy, but I dunno if glamour will stick to ghosts.”
“Our intents aren’t bruised, Irpa, however magics are drained.”
“Point, but even so.”
“I can assist, Irpa.” Edythe’s yo-yo had reappeared. “And tonight is one for many books.”
I murmured gladness, dredging up what little I had left to offer Skuffles as she rose and Coyote herded the skittering newbie ghosts in before morphing human and somehow grasping two ghostly collars. I didn’t try to follow the magics Irpa and Edythe offered, concentrating on my intent desire for maximal visibility in the name of justice, and felt bleak satisfaction as Sarah Clements glimmered into human view, pale but recognisable, with her cousin who’d tried to give her a false alibi in Paul Harris’s slander case and wound up doing a year for perjury. Adam’s breath hissed, and Leslie’s. I looked at the WETA guy.
“Are they showing on camera, sir ?”
He’d gone white again despite mid-brown skin, but glanced at his camera-gal who nodded and spoke.
“Woman, blue and blonde, maybe thirty, man, blue and blond, older. Uh, Ms. President.”
“Not a problem, and thank you, ma’am. Sarah Clements and Alexander Wood, both known JLS, and now both known as truly vile would-be terrorists and mass-murderers. Adam, the Director can see them ?”
He checked and nodded, holding down his rage with the fools. “He can, love, clearly.”
“Good.” More magic swelled. “Da, hold them there a minute ?”
If Coyote replied I didn’t hear him because an enormous arch had opened and the street was abruptly full of belling hounds and spectral horses, with Herne astride a horse like the one I’d seen Zee use for the faerie rade at the Medicine Wolf Accords but its white twin. Nemane was there too and came to stand beside ap Lugh as Herne swung down lightly, antlers gleaming in the fading light while hounds and horses looked at the thunderbolt, and offered me a shallow bow as his owl’s gaze took in my condition, with Skuffles’s battered ruff.
“Mercedes Troll-friend, Prince Gwyn ap Lugh tells me you and Skuffles have done another mighty deed, and that there is a righteous hunt for us, if we wish it.”
I sat up as best I could, taking a deep breath as Adam’s arm came comfortingly round me.
“How mighty is not for me to say, Herne the Hunter, but forgive my not rising in its aftermath. Prices must be paid. And there is truly a righteous hunt, if you wish it. Do you see these ghosts that glamour limns ?”
“I do.”
I was aware of hounds and horses gathering around us as the spooked TV crew shifting back to widen their shot, though the soundman stayed close, boom mike aimed at me. Another deep breath, marshalling necessary words.
“They were driver and passenger in a Lincoln Navigator some remains of which are within the thunderbolt. It bore many hundreds of pounds of high explosives, and had the thunderbolt not contained their effects many and many would have died this day. Nemane, is it possible that we might see, just before the thunderbolt within which they died engulfed and halted it, that which contained the bodies these ghosts fled ?”
Beady eyes looked at me with what I thought was real surprise.
“Nice wording, Coyote’s daughter. Maybe. Edythe ?”
“Oh yes. The Hunt rides for us as well as Mercedes Elf-friend, and consider the cold iron in this.” Edythe smiled, the frightening one. “Besides, it is only more forensics.”
Ap Lugh half-smiled. “Truth, and simple enough.”
He gestured and spectral horses and hounds gave space. How simple it really was I neither knew nor cared - that spell was well within fae capacity, Nemane had affinity with the dead, the ghosts were right there, and I was more interested in getting a good look at the Navigator that shimmered into view. FBI agents had cameras pointing, and Leslie was giving precise detail to dictaphone and phone, including commendably accurate police shots starring the windshield with the fact that Clements had been the driver I’d half-glimpsed, and as Adam and I went round the side she followed. The windows were darkened but as we reached the back ap Lugh gestured sharply and the tailgate opened, rising to show the solid stack of boxed HE filling all those cubic feet. Adam leaned in and gave the dozen US army serial numbers and codes he could see, craned his neck, counting, and ducked back out.
“At least four hundred … kilos of battlefield HE.”
Adam had never yet sworn on camera but I knew he’d come close.
“Oh yeah. Just like K-K-Kantrip and human collateral, love. No polite words cover it. SSAC, the Pentagon has those serial numbers ?”
Leslie had her phone to her ear and nodded. “Yes, they’re patched in. And someone says Fort Pickett was spot on. Military Police are scrambling.”
“Un huh, but the Hunt will have priority. As it does now.”
I’d like to say I strode back round the Lincoln as it vanished but walked is generous, even with Adam’s arm and a sense of countergrav from Excalibur that had me resting a grateful hand on its warm hilt. I stopped a few feet in front of the ghosts, still held by Coyote, and turned to Herne, flanked by the lead hounds.
“Herne the Hunter and all Hounds of the Hunt, with the spectral horses of Prince Gwyn ap Lugh, know that in life these bore the names Sarah Colquhoun Clements and Alexander Basildon Wood, and were known as haters of the preternatural, active members of the John Lauren Society, as they are now known in dishonourable death to have been willing to commit mass-murder and terrorism, with the further sin of suicide. Both lived in the state of Virginia, south of here, and those I would have you seek this night, there or elsewhere, and deliver alive to Federal custody at the police station at 3320 Idaho Avenue NW, here in Washington, D.C., are all who had sure foreknowledge of their crime, who aided in its planning, supplied or enabled the theft of explosives and constructed the bomb, bolstered resolves to murder so many others with themselves, and show themselves abomination, uncaring of whom they slay, false to their nation and laws, as to the Christian God they claim to honour and serve.”
Antlers gleamed again as he nodded before turning for a moment to sweep his gaze across eager hounds, and turn back.
“Truly that is a righteous hunt, Mercedes Troll-friend, and we are glad to accept your charge.”
“As I am glad to hear you, Herne the Hunter. One thing more, and you may begin your hunt.” I swallowed, once again gave date and exact time, and looked at a very wide-eyed Leslie. “Tell me if I forget anything that matters, please, SSAC. Executive Order Number 14877. By the constitutional powers invested in me as serving President of the United States of America, I declare that Herne the Hunter, the fifty couples of the Wild Hunt, and the spectral horses of Prince Gwyn ap Lugh are now and shall until tomorrow’s dawn remain duly deputised Federal agents of the United States of America, fully empowered to arrest and transport to police custody any and all who had prior knowledge of or in any knowing way assisted in planning, facilitating, or executing the attempted presidential assassination and act of mass-murder and terrorism that occurred this evening on 33rd Street NW, Georgetown ; and do further declare that whatever state or territory of the union such persons shall be found in, no legal claims of invalid authority, lack of probable cause, or failure to mirandize any and all such persons as Herne and the Wild Hunt may arrest to deliver to police custody shall prevent their federal trials or in any way forestall, impede, or impugn any verdict a duly sworn jury shall render in such trials. By my hand this day, She Doesn’t Only Fix Cars, She Drops People Right In It. End text of Executive Order. SSAC ?”
It was Leslie’s turn to take a deep breath. “That covers it, Ms President.”
“Good. Thank you, SSAC. Herne the Hunter, Hounds of the Wild Hunt, Horses of Prince Gwyn ap Lugh, you have the full authority of the United States Government in your righteous hunt for those who have so fouled their souls and scoffed at all laws. And without offence, may the Christian God in whom I believe bless you, aid you, and keep you as you seek your lawful prey.”
Many fae eyebrows were high but a slow smile spread across Herne’s face.
“Well, there is a rare departure, Mercedes Troll-friend, and we are glad now to hunt the wicked in your name as President of the United States, and all righteousness.”