The Forgefires of God (The Cause Book 3) (30 page)

“I can imagine.”  Pause.  “Hey, boss, there’s a student Arm here you’ve just got to meet, the formerly insane one.  Dolores Sokolnik.  She figured out what was going on all on her own, and grabbed the tags of all the other student Arms, and Arm Kent, supposedly left there to guard the student Arms.  And Merry Bartlett, who she tricked into coming back to admit failure.  She’s the student Arm Naylor was avoiding.”

I winced.  Sokolnik did sound like a trip and a half. “All right.  Bring me this Sokolnik in person, along with Kent and Bartlett.  Put the fear of God into the rest of Keaton’s students, pack them up and take control of them.  They’re yours for now.”

“Will do, boss.”

A Rigidly Organized Array of Miscellaneous Parts

Michelle Claunch – Focus #12 – December 1956.  Focus Michelle Claunch, as with Focus Schrum and Focus Fingleman, believes in close cooperation between the Transform community and the non-Transforms in business and government.  In 1961, Michelle (as she prefers to be called) formed the Focus Network, a semi-public organization of non-Transforms who exist to help the Transform community, and to receive help from the Transform community – and maintain open communications among all Focuses.  “Only by working together with those outside the Transform community can the Transform community prosper,” she says.  Michelle was a well-known celebrity Focus from 1964 through 1967, appearing on many talk shows, having bit parts in two Hollywood movies and a television variety show, until her star was tarnished in the Arm Flap and she was forced out of the limelight.

“Lives of the Focuses”

Tonya Biggioni: December 23, 1972

“Who are you and how many?”  The Noble poked his head in the window of the bus and gave them the eye.  He was a vaguely leonine Noble, with a beautiful gold mane all the way around his head that missed being human hair by several branches of the evolutionary tree.  Besides this guard at the entry station, Tonya could sense several Monsters hiding in the brush, which gave her pause and the need to control her own baser instincts.  If this guard didn’t approve of them, they wouldn’t be going any farther.

“Focus Biggioni’s household,” Danny said from the driver’s seat.

The Noble checked the list on his clipboard. “What personnel?  By type.”

“One Focus, thirteen Transforms, and six normals.”

Sir Lion nodded.  “Follow the road and check in at the welcome station in the Lodge.  They’ll tell you where to set up camp.  You’ll need an equipment review, and all personnel including normals need to register their skills with Ila Abbott.  Combatants need to report to Tom Delacort for evaluation.  Is the Focus staying in the Lodge or will she be camping with the household?”

Tonya leaned forward.  “Are there telephones at the Lodge?”

Sir Lion nodded.  “All the Lodge rooms have telephones.”

“The Lodge,” Tonya said, and Sir Lion waved them through.

Tonya needed phone service.  They had been on the bus from Philadelphia for hours, out of contact, and heaven only knew what had blown up in those few hours.  Tonya would have given a lot to skip this entire attack on Patterson.  She didn’t have
time
for this.  News of the fall of the first Focuses got out to the Focuses eight hours ago, and the Focus community was piling up some mighty big phone bills today.

The Council was a powerless hollow shell without the support of the first Focuses.  They were at best an unelected tool of the Firsts, and the Focuses saw no need to tolerate the Council anymore.  The most troubling was the ongoing wave of defections to the ISF (the International Sisterhood of Focuses) in the Midwest.  Joining the Canadian ISF Focuses at least made logical sense.  The most annoying were the two groups of Focuses who wanted to set up a new organization, and not to anyone’s surprise they each thought they should be at the top.  The most hilarious was the small group of South Region Focuses who wanted the Focus community to set up a tribunal and punish all the Council Focuses for the misdeeds of the Council…starting with the Council members from the South Region.

Tonya wanted to bang all these Focuses over the head with a cast iron skillet and tell them to start thinking.  The Focuses couldn’t afford to fracture into a dozen competing factions.  The predators were out hunting, ready to pounce on any Focuses easily cut out of the pack.  The Council was the Focuses’ only structure and source of stability, and the Focuses couldn’t afford to lose it.

Tonya’s message wasn’t hopeless.  The Focuses hadn’t fallen into anarchy yet, but only because of Tonya’s efforts and those of Polly, Connie, Jill and Lori and a dozen other loyal Focuses, and their promises of new and fair elections.

Tonya needed that phone.

Tonya first saw the camp as the bus rounded a turn mid-way down a tall hill and felt a rush of excitement in spite of herself.

Ever since she learned Polly’s juice buffer access trick, she felt like a teenager again.  A particularly mindless teenager, at that.  Everything was exciting, and she was constantly overflowing with energy and what seemed like inspiration and probably wasn’t.

If only she hadn’t been too busy to do something about her needs.  Outside of her household.  Her household wouldn’t fall apart if she went out on dates.  Of course, she would need to study up on dating etiquette when accompanied by bodyguards…

Frigidity had been convenient, but that was gone.  Now?  She couldn’t even think of a man without wondering what he would be like in bed.

Tonya forcefully yanked her mind out of the gutter and turned her attention to the camp.  She didn’t have time for distractions.

The camp spread out below them in a sheltered valley, far from normal human contact.  The only road was the narrow dirt road they came in on, and Tonya didn’t see a house anywhere.

The camp itself was a rigidly organized array of miscellaneous parts.  About half of the tents appeared to be army surplus and the rest were probably out of various garages and scout camping trips, all arranged in ruler-straight neat lines.  Several Focus households of the gypsy variety were here, in the usual confabulation of campers, motor homes and converted school buses.  There were well over a hundred people, probably a lot more, and Tonya saw normals and Transforms all over, all bustling about with an air of intense urgency.  There were enough of the Monster commoners to make her nervous.  She hated the Monsters, going all the way back to the time when her household did Monster hunting, and she had buried far too many of her Transforms after the Monsters inevitably took a few down.  She hated seeing them as protected members of the Noble households.

That wasn’t all.  A group of people practiced weaponry at a newly set up rifle range.  Another group had a hand-to-hand combat ring set up, going to with excessive vigor. There was another group halfway up the hill practicing movement.  A chow line fed a stream of people, and more people moved supplies busily from one place to another.

The Lodge crouched a bit farther up the hill, an old vacationers’ hotel, appropriately rustic, with exposed rough boards and a beautiful view.  Danny dropped Tonya off with a set of four bodyguards, and took the rest of the household to report in and set up tents.

“Tonya.” The voice came from the entry to the lodge.  Shadow, just coming out the door.

She smiled to see him.  He was about her height, with beautiful dark hair and wise, thoughtful eyes.  A beautiful juice structure, when he didn’t keep it hidden.  Far more complex than that of a Transform.

She wondered if he was good in bed.

No, this was ridiculous, she told herself.  She hated this loss of control over her own body.  Hormone surges, at her age.  She should be going through menopause, not puberty.  The teenage sex drive was enough to make her wish for the ordinary misery of a low juice count. At least she knew how to deal with frigidity.

“Shadow.  Are you the official greeter around here?”

“Only for the important guests,” he said.  His voice was a pleasant low tenor with rich undertones.  It rubbed like a fuzzy cloth along her skin.  “Come in.  I’ll help you settle in.”

So they all marched into the Lodge, and Tonya couldn’t help but note that somehow the one person she was least likely to be able to manipulate was the one to greet her.  Carol’s doing, most likely.  Tonya didn’t consider this a sign of trust.

“Who else is here?” Tonya said, as Shadow walked her up to her room.

“The Arms are here, except for the Commander, and they’re all buzzing around like angry hornets.  Most of the Nobles made it in last night.  Several Crows, too.”

“Focuses?”

“Focus Keistermann came in earlier today, but she’s closeted herself in her room ever since, making phone calls.  Focus Webb came in just a couple of hours later and did the same thing.  Focus Innkeep is camped with her people down the hill.  Unfortunately, Focus Bentlow won’t be joining us.”

Damn.  This was a stupid move on Jill’s part.  However, Jill had always been the most paranoid of them all.

“Rizzari?”

“Been and gone, twice, she and her motorcycle gang.”  Something new from Rizzari?  “So do you plan to closet yourself in your room with a phone, or are you available for other things?”  They reached the door to Tonya’s room, but didn’t go in.

Tonya wondered what other things he intended.  “No, unfortunately, I need to make a few calls, too.”

“The Focus organization must be a busy place right now,” Shadow said, “to occupy so much of the time of the senior Focuses.”

“You could say that.”

“In that case, I’ll come to visit you around dinner time.  Even the busiest Focus should take time to eat, and enjoy some company.”

“Certainly.  Please do.”  She smiled at him, attempting to hide her Focus bitchiness for at least a few moments.

Shadow disappeared then, leaving her standing at the door and staring after him quizzically.  If she didn’t know better, she would swear he had just asked her out.

Gilgamesh: December 23, 1972

Gilgamesh would much rather be in his room, blissfully unconscious from sheer terror.

Or back in Chicago, for that matter.

Even a frozen culvert would be better, if the culvert didn’t include an upcoming challenge to a duel.  Whoever thought up this ridiculous duel custom was a sadist of the worst sort.  Duels seemed almost designed specifically to induce panic.

Hell, Gilgamesh cursed under his breath, the psychological misery probably was a core part of the duel.  This was not only a test of skill, but also one of nerve.

Given that, he certainly wasn’t going to let the Crow terrors defeat him.  He was a six year old Crow with five years of experience dealing with Arms, in person.  His resume included fights against thugs, Transforms, insane Focuses, evil Crows, Monsters both free and otherwise, and, of course, the Hunters.  He refused to let a simple duel push his buttons.

Upstairs, Cathy Elspeth moaned miserably again, and Gilgamesh’s determined conviction collapsed.  If Cathy Elspeth, fourteen years a Major Transform and one of the first Focuses, could be chewed up so thoroughly, what special invulnerability could any Crow of his age claim?

He wished Tiamat would do something with Elspeth.  He couldn’t escape her misery, as everywhere Tiamat went, Elspeth followed nearby.  He wanted to cry in sympathetic horror every time she moaned.  Every few hours, Tiamat would put a double tag on her for a few minutes, and for a few blessed minutes she would be silent.  Then Tiamat would take off the tag, and the misery would return.

There wasn’t anything he could
do
about her misery.  Elspeth needed help, and unless Gilgamesh wanted to give up on his duel, he couldn’t spare the time to help her.  Another first Focus, Susanne Morris, stayed with Elspeth, Morris nearly as broken by Keaton as Elspeth had been by Patterson.  He despised Focus Morris, but Keaton’s tortures had reawakened Morris’s long-lapsed empathy for anyone outside of her household.  Save for the screaming nightmares that started ten minutes after Focus Morris fell asleep, she had turned from a hindrance into a benefit.  She couldn’t keep Elspeth quiet, though, despite her best efforts.

Gilgamesh just listened to Elspeth’s inescapable moans and wished he could be anyplace else.

Sky couldn’t help her, either.  Lori spotted the look on his face at the first moan and put her foot down.  He had his hands full taking care of one Focus, she told him.  He didn’t need to be taking on any others.  Not that Lori could stand being anywhere near, either.  She had taken off to run errands with her new toy, a motorcycle gang she borrowed from Arm Haggerty.

Shadow ignored Elspeth as if he didn’t even hear her.

Smoke looked almost pleased at the first Focus’s suffering.  Gilgamesh wondered what terrible experience made him hate the first Focuses so much, but he never said.

Newton, though.  The Newt came in with Focus Hargrove, having progressed to where he could travel with Hargrove’s household.  However, the moment he heard Elspeth, he walked up to her room, which turned out to be Tiamat’s room, and lay down on the bed next to her and held her tight.

Then he started to make gentle suggestions as to how Tiamat could adjust her double tag on Cathy, to ease Cathy’s pain and help her heal.  Then he had suggestions as to how Tiamat could tune the full tag.  He even chatted with Focus Morris, in his usual overly excitable fashion.  Newton hated the first Focuses as much as anyone, but Gilgamesh could metasense a change coming over Newton, dividing the first Focuses into
bosses
and
underlings
, and it was the bosses he hated.

As far as Gilgamesh knew, Newton had never dealt with Tiamat in person, or summoned up enough nerve to offer the mildest of suggestions.  With a wounded Focus in his arms, though, he summoned up all the courage he needed, and Tiamat followed his suggestions.

If Gilgamesh’s guess was correct, Newton had just dumped Hargrove.