The Second Siege (23 page)

“Come, my friends,” he said. “We are all busy people. Do we have an agreement or not?”

None of the Rowan representatives answered. With the exception of a teary, indignant Mum, they were now all staring at Bram’s talisman.

It was glowing.

Glowing
was too strong a word. The miniature light was as weak and shaky as a dying bulb. But it was getting stronger.

“What sort of cheap conjurer’s trick is this?” asked Rasmussen, bemused.

“I’m not doing anything to it,” said David, peering closely at the talisman, which now shone with the luminescence of a full moon. Several engineers stood for a better view; Rasmussen made a curt gesture, and they promptly returned to their seats.

Three loud beeps suddenly sounded in the room. Glaring at David, Dr. Rasmussen reached into his pocket and removed a slim phone. As he pressed it to his ear, his face twisted into an irritated scowl. Motioning impatiently for the guard captain, Dr. Rasmussen issued soft-spoken orders while the engineers looked on in silence. The guard captain hurried out of the room, followed by a score of soldiers. Dr. Rasmussen removed his spectacles and massaged his eyes.

“My apologies,” he said. “We’ve had a minor power outage in the northwest sector.”

“Do you always send soldiers to fix a power outage?” asked Cooper.

“Not normally, Agent Cooper, but the northwest sector is a particularly troublesome location for such a thing to occur. The museums are located there, you see. . . . Apparently several live exhibits have escaped,” muttered Dr. Rasmussen. “Dr. Friedman?”

The thin woman Max had spoken to at dinner snapped to attention.

“Yes, Dr. Rasmussen?”

“Please take your team and locate Dr. Braden. Immediately. It seems the good doctor’s homing beacon has become disabled and we cannot find her. Please ensure she is safe and accounted for.”

“Of course,” replied the woman, making a stiff exit. Max scanned the faces of the other engineers. They all looked frightened.

The room’s lights suddenly flickered and went out. Emergency lights kicked on, giving the room a dim orange hue. Dr. Rasmussen issued another command, but no one moved. All eyes were fixed on the talisman, which burned hot and bright as a blacksmith’s fire.

“Do you need help?” asked Cooper.

“Very thoughtful of you, Agent Cooper, but we can manage,” he replied. He pressed another button beneath the table, and the wall panels slid back to reveal an enormous screen depicting a score of separate images from around the Workshop. Max glimpsed the deserted café and redwoods; empty corridors; an abandoned lab where white-hot metals bubbled in dark crucibles. Rasmussen leaned back and spoke to the screen, issuing clipped commands that shifted some scenes and zoomed in on others until the whole was a disorienting matrix of motion.

“Victor,” muttered Rasmussen, eliciting a prompt response from a doughy, bearded man seated at the table, “I’d like you to transmit Emergency Code Six to our residents via their implant chips. Authorization code is currently 49653C8625. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” said the man, typing rapidly into a computer.

Then something strange appeared on one of the screens.

Rasmussen uttered a command, and the image expanded to half the available screen. A figure was visible walking across a marble floor. It had the approximate shape of a human but was wrought entirely of flame. Billows of white smoke rose in waves from its shoulders; a trail of burning footprints smoldered in its wake.

“An afrit,” said Cooper grimly.

“Is that bad?” whispered Mr. McDaniels.

Cooper, David, and Miss Boon nodded.

“A spirit of fire,” explained Cooper. “Very tough. I’ll bet our friends here bought him from the witches. Through an intermediary, I’d guess. Iran. Maybe Saudi Arabia.”

Dr. Rasmussen gave Cooper an irritated frown before speaking softly into his phone. Placing it back on the table, he tapped his finger while the camera adjusted to follow the afrit, which paused at an exhibit of a narwhal. A dozen pods appeared at the bottom edge of the screen; black-armored soldiers swarmed out like hornets. The afrit ignored them, turning to inspect a nearby polar bear. Amidst a flurry of nervous shouts and commands the soldiers hurried into formation. They pointed an array of fearsome-looking guns at the preoccupied spirit, whose flames audibly hissed and popped in the background.

The soldiers fired.

Bolts of energy forked from the guns and converged at the afrit, slamming into its back. The fiery being lurched forward from the impact, melting the polar bear’s glass case as if it were beeswax. Dr. Rasmussen smiled as the soldiers marched forward, firing another volley of bolts at the huddled afrit.

“Otherworldly or not, it appears to feel pain,” he chuckled.

“Cover your ears,” muttered Cooper, pulling his cap low and promptly following his own advice.

Max and the others did likewise.

The afrit stood and turned to face its attackers.

It screamed.

Even muffled, Max found the sound almost deafening—a high-pitched, inhuman cry of petrifying rage. Glass cases shattered into a million sparkling pieces; marble tiles popped from their settings as an apparent shockwave of sound and heat rushed over them. The soldiers collapsed and covered their ears; bolts of energy arced wildly as the afrit advanced. When the first soldier erupted in flames, Rasmussen hurriedly switched to another camera. Flecks of spittle flew as he hissed into his phone.

“All troops from north sector are to proceed immediately to the Biology Museum.”

“You’re sending them to their deaths,” said Cooper. “There’s nothing they can do.”

“Thank you for your opinion, Agent Cooper.”

“I’m going to find my family,” said Jason suddenly, pushing back from the table.

“You will stay where you are, as required by Emergency Code Six,” said Dr. Rasmussen.

Jason ignored Dr. Rasmussen, walking quickly to the doors.

“Restrain him,” ordered Dr. Rasmussen, continuing to watch the screen.

Max looked on as the soldier barring Jason’s way was knocked unconscious by the strong blond boy, who then wrenched the doors open and disappeared down the corridor. Several soldiers started to pursue, but Rasmussen screamed at them to remain where they were and secure the doors.

“It’s no matter,” he muttered, composing himself. “Let him go. We cannot be responsible for him if he endangers himself through his own stupidity.” Rasmussen gazed sidelong at the fallen soldier with disgust. “I’m afraid our troops aren’t quite up to Rowan’s standards. We have emphasized other things here. I can assure you it will be remedied,” he added, with an appraising glance at Max.

A flash of fire raced across one camera. Something brown and mottled lumbered by another.

“I’m not sure you’re going to get that chance,” said Miss Boon.

Dr. Rasmussen maximized the image from another camera, which was following something as it slithered slowly up a broad staircase. It was the lamia, Lilith. Her serpentine trunk rippled smoothly as she peered through an open archway. Seconds later, she disappeared inside.

“Th-those are the children’s dormitories!” stammered a woman.

“I can see that, Dr. Bhargava!”

Dr. Rasmussen switched to another camera inside the archway. Max jumped at the sight of the heavy-lidded, beautiful face filling the screen and peering at them. A forked tongue flicked between sharp teeth. Red lips parted in a slow, knowing smile. The image was suddenly lost in a blip of static before it went black altogether.

Dr. Rasmussen made frantic calls redirecting the north sector troops. No one answered.

“Where are those dormitories?” asked Cooper, unsheathing the wavy-bladed kris.

“Northwest sector, twenty floors up,” mumbled Dr. Bhargava. “But the tubes are shut down. You’d have to go on foot.”

“Hurry up and give me a map.”

The trembling engineer tapped several keys and offered up a palm-sized computer to the Agent, who snatched it from her hands. “Stay here,” he commanded before slipping out the door. Max heard rapid footsteps fading down the hallway before the doors were shut and bolted.

“How far is it?” asked Miss Boon.

“At least two kilometers,” replied the woman, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“Oh dear,” said Miss Boon quietly, watching the images anxiously as Rasmussen scrolled through them. The screen was checkered with black rectangles as surveillance cameras flickered and failed.

A shiny bead of sweat rolled like a ball bearing down Rasmussen’s smooth head to land on the collar of his shirt. He snatched up his phone.

“Dr. Friedman,
where
is Dr. Braden?”

The answer apparently displeased him; the device was slammed against the gleaming redwood. Bram’s talisman sparked. Dr. Rasmussen stabbed an accusatory finger at the talisman and then at David.

“You’re causing that, aren’t you?
You’re causing all of this!
”

David flinched at the accusation.

“Of course I’m not,” he said quietly.

“Ha!” scoffed Dr. Rasmussen, smacking the table. “Afrits and demons and sorcerers—you’re all the same. You should all be exterminated.”

“Shhh!” hissed Dr. Bhargava as something dark went hurtling up the dormitory steps and disappeared inside. It was Cooper.

Max found the ensuing wait unbearable. He paced up and down along the table, watching the screen while his pulse fluttered like a rabbit’s. Outside the door, he could hear the many footsteps of frantic engineers seeking shelter. Dr. Rasmussen ignored them, focusing instead on the camera stationed outside the children’s dormitory.

In the shadow beneath the archway, something moved.

The thick coil of a snake bulged out into the hallway. Cooper emerged a moment later, dragging the bloated body of the lamia down the steps, where it lay in a limp mound of flesh, hair, and scales. Turning, the Agent stepped back to the doorway, which he sealed with a swirling nebula of energy that stretched across the opening like a thin film of oily water. He paused briefly to study the computer before he was gone, dashing down the steps and out of sight.

“Thank God,” muttered Dr. Rasmussen, reaching for a bottle of water.

“Where is he going now?” Dr. Bhargava asked, searching the screens.

“To find that afrit, I think,” whispered Miss Boon, sitting very straight and staring at the golem’s primitive features.

“Well, he’s certainly a brave man,” remarked Dr. Rasmussen. “I’ll grant him that. Although I don’t see what good that knife will do him against that afrit. I’ve never quite understood why you people favor them so.”

“That’s easy,” Max replied, glaring at the man. “Anyone can shoot a gun or push a button, Dr. Rasmussen. But a knife? You’ve got to get close to use a knife. It takes real skill and courage. You wouldn’t know anything about it.”

“Don’t lecture me, boy.”

“Cooper was right,” snapped Max, surveying the assembled engineers and soldiers. “Bram’s Key belongs to us, and we’re
not
leaving without it. He’s risking his life to clean up your mess while you sit here. I don’t even know why we’re bargaining with you. I could take it right now.”

Twenty guns were leveled at Max.

“You tell them to point those somewhere else,” said Max quietly.

“Max!” exclaimed Mr. McDaniels, lurching to his feet.

“Stay right there, Dad,” said Max evenly. Slowly, he reached back for the
gae bolga
and drew it from beneath his sweater. It was warm at his touch and hummed like a tuning fork. “The brave doctor’s going to tell them to lower their guns. Otherwise, there’s going to be serious trouble.”

Dr. Rasmussen looked at Max with very real fear stamped on his taut features. He glanced at his colleagues and cleared his throat.

“Put them away,” he croaked to his guards.

The guns were lowered.

“We have a deal then,” said Max, walking toward Dr. Rasmussen. The Workshop leader winced and several of the guards shifted uneasily as Max raised the
gae bolga
level with his chest. Drawing the razor-sharp blade across his forearm, Max let three drops of blood patter onto the table. Rasmussen watched them spread for a moment, before snarling to his neighbor.

“Don’t just sit there! Get it in a container!”

Max lifted Bram’s Key and stalked back to his end of the table, setting it before Miss Boon like a trophy. Taking his seat, he scooped Nick back into his lap and sucked at the cut on his forearm.

“What about the lymrill?” asked the other engineer, stoppering a small vial containing the blood.

Max glared at the man before returning his attention to the monitors. There was no sign of Cooper. Suddenly, the main lights turned back on; the pervasive hum of white noise returned. Three beeps sounded on Rasmussen’s phone.

“Yes?” he responded. “Good, good. We’ll have to look for her later—something probably happened at the museum. Double-check the golem exhibit. Things are looking up, however.”

He placed the phone back on the table and took a deep gulp of water.

“Power’s been restored,” he said with a contented sigh. “Several escaped specimens have been destroyed, and the situation is coming under control. I believe it’s now safe to proceed to Central Command.”

“What about Agent Cooper?” asked Miss Boon softly. “Did they say anything about him?”

Dr. Rasmussen opened his mouth and clamped it shut again.

“I, eh, didn’t think to ask,” he said with a sheepish glance at Miss Boon.

“Just extraordinary,” snapped Miss Boon, standing up abruptly. She slid the sphere back down the table toward Max. “I’m going to look for William,” she said. “If I’m not back within the hour, the rest of you are to leave this hellhole immediately and proceed to the Berlin field office. If that
reptile
hinders you in any way, Max, you do whatever is necessary to get your father, David, and Mum out. Understood?”

“Yes, Miss Boon,” said Max.

“Hazel, be careful, love,” pleaded Mum, clutching Miss Boon’s arm.

“I’ll be fine, Mum,” said Miss Boon, kissing the hag’s topknot. With a farewell smile to David and the McDanielses, Miss Boon strode to the door. Flinging it open, she stopped dead in her tracks. Cooper stood on the threshold, frozen in the act of knocking. Smoke rose in lazy curls from his singed boots; dried blood streaked his chin. He blinked at Miss Boon.

“I—I was coming to find you,” she stammered.

“Mission accomplished.”

Cooper staggered as Miss Boon embraced him. For a moment, the Agent looked utterly bewildered; his scarred cheeks flushed pink. His gloved hand patted Miss Boon’s back hesitantly while the teacher’s shoulders shook with muffled sobs. A second later, Mum nearly tackled the pair.

“Did you manage to contain that thing? That afrit?” asked Dr. Rasmussen.

“I did,” said Cooper, stepping inside amidst Mum’s cries and triumphant whoops.

“Well, we’re very grateful, of course,” muttered Dr. Rasmussen.

Cooper nodded, while a number of the engineers hurried around the table to shake his hand and thank him for protecting their children. The attention seemed to make the Agent profoundly uncomfortable.