Demon Accords 05.5: Executable (11 page)

“Perhaps.  Now, where should I tell mother to meet us?”

“Rowan West.”

“You would bring this mess to your aunt?” she asked.

“You don’t know my aunt.  She’s probably already expecting us.”

Caeco glanced my way, one eyebrow raised as she considered my answer.  I turned the Beast onto my home road and headed to the restaurant.

I was right.  Aunt Ashling was sitting at the kitchen table when I led Caeco in through the back door.  She had three places set, with bowls of soup and fresh-baked bread at each.

Despite her awesome abilities at Divination, she was still worried.  The Craft gave her the big story, but a lot of detail could fall by the wayside.  She
knew
, from her Readings, that Caeco and I would show up, but she couldn’t know in what condition.  Seeing me, she jumped up and rushed around the table to hug me.  Then she spun around and hugged Caeco as well, a move that caught my genetically engineered killing machine friend completely and utterly by surprise.

Caeco stood awkwardly while Aunt Ash wrapped her in an embrace, her dark eyes looking at me a little helplessly.  I just grinned and headed for a bowl of soup.  Caeco’s eyes followed me and lit up at the sight of the food.

“Goodness, dear. Yer a right solid one, aren’t ya?  Declan, wait for your friend before making a hog of yerself.  Now, Sarah dear, have a seat and help yerself to seafood chowder before Declan devours it completely.  Fresh dill bread and butter, too,” she said, bustling around and getting the chocolate milk from the fridge. 

I knew Aunt Ash was just burning off her nerves and she would shortly settle into her calm planning mode.

“Her name is Caeco, Aunt Ash.  She was born in a government lab and they wanted to kill her, so she and her mom escaped.”

“
Pseudo
government lab.  Agents in Rebus is not really a government group.  It was formed decades ago by wealthy patriots to protect our country from a dysfunctional two-party government that changed leaders too often to be truly effective at defending our way of life.  It was created within the government and has access to almost every part of it, but is not actually of it.  Mother says the original intent may have been sound, but like everything else run by humans, it eventually morphed into something darker,” Caeco explained.  She sniffed a spoonful of chowder, her eyes getting round at the rich delicious scent.  The spoon disappeared into her mouth and her eyes suddenly closed in bliss, her expression just exactly like that of our cat Brona after a can of tuna.

“Where is yer mum, Caeco?” my aunt asked.

“I’m here,” a voice said from the doorway.  I jumped a bit to see Caeco’s mother standing in the door, eyeing us with distrust.  I did notice that Caeco hadn’t even flinched at her mother’s voice. Instead, she continued to devour her soup and bread.

I looked back at her mother and this time noticed she was holding a nasty
-looking semi-automatic pistol in her right hand, which was thankfully dangling alongside her leg and not pointed in our direction.

“Mother, the gun is not necessary.  Declan and his aunt have done nothing but help us since we arrived.”

“You are still a child, Caeco, and despite everything you’ve been taught, all your training and the events of the last month, you are still too trusting,” her mother replied, although her eyes never left off watching Aunt Ash and I.

“Perhaps, mother, I have simply processed all available information, most of which you do not have, and arrived at a more informed opinion,” Caeco said before turning to us. “Declan, Ms. O’Carroll, this is my mother, Dr. Abigail Jensen.”

“Tis mostly a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Jensen.  You never did look a bit like a Rachel to me,” Aunt Ash said, looking back at the other woman calmly.  “Now, you’ve most likely a bit of time before ye must flee.  It might be wise to eat and plan a bit.”  She pointed at the third place setting.  Dr. Johnson raised her eyebrows in surprise at the extra spot at the table.

“My hypothesis turned out to be correct, Mother.  Declan and his aunt, are, in fact, witches.”

“Ye suspected that, did ye?  A logical, science-based girl such as yerself?” my aunt asked.

“You’ve seen proof, Caeco?” Dr. Jensen asked, ignoring my aunt.

“Yes, Mother, although as I said last night, I’ve been seeing proof since we got here,” Caeco answered.

“Wait, you actually believed we were witches.  How is it that you believe in witches?” I asked.

“Science doesn’t know everything, despite what some
people
would have you believe,” Caeco said, ignoring her mother’s eye flare
.
  “AIR has been nothing if not thorough in their search for better weapons and people.  The Juice supplement I told you about is based on proteins harvested from an actual hemivore—a vampire, if you will.  She was kept in the same lab that I was, so
we
had undeniable evidence.  She was a young one, newly infected with the virus, but she was much faster and stronger than any normal human.  She burned if exposed to the sun or UV light, and silver was poisonous to her.  There were rumors among the staff that AIR had samples of other mythical monsters as well, specifically lycanthropes, or werewolves.  Mother even saw reports from credible researchers regarding witches, so you can see where we might not find you to be implausible.”

“We believe in the possibility of witches.  Without proof, I, however, don’t trust my daughter’s ability to be unbiased in this case.  She’s only ever interacted with people in the lab and her combat instructors.  Despite her high intelligence, I think she lacks enough experience to avoid being duped by clever people, especially attractive young people her age.”

A micro-expression of hurt flashed across Caeco’s face before hardening into a glare at her mother.

“Declan, would you demonstrate for Mother?” she asked, her eyes never leaving Dr. Jensen’s.

Aunt Ashling loves candles. I’m pretty sure Yankee Candle Company mentions her by name in their annual financial statements.  It’s probably its own line item, maybe after regional sales, you know, like
North American sales up x%… Ashling O’Carroll sales up 50 %.
  The result is a veritable plethora of candles populating our living quarters.  Big ones, little ones, handmade, storebought, whatever.  They make great targets for my training.

I held both hands in front of me, left palm up, the right hand facing downward, like I was cradling something.  After a moment’s concentration that years of practice has made second nature, a ball of crackling blue plasma formed between my hands.  Just a small one, maybe like a ping-pong ball in size.  Dr. Jensen’s eyes were glued to it, but I could see her looking for tricks like I had wires up my sleeves or something.  I pushed the ball lightning across the table toward her, letting it float above the surface, little tendrils of snapping, arcing blue electricity flicking out in every direction, seeking a conductor.  The plasma ball, which stayed about eight inches off the tabletop, got close enough that her hair began to stand on end; close enough that the static discharge was palpable.  A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face as she felt the reality of its approach.  When she raised her eyes to mine, I stopped the ball, then pulled it back to my hands.  Letting it hover for a moment, I waited like a circus showman for the right moment before absorbing its energy into mine, clapping my hands together, changing its form and instantly redirecting it to multiple points around the room.  Candles everywhere in the kitchen and family room area lit at the same time.

Dr. Jensen looked around at the lit candles, even picking up the orange pillar candle in the center of the table to examine it.  Aunt Ashling was busy counting.

“I make it terty-seven, dear.  A new best?”

“Thirty-eight, Aunt Ash. I got the little tea light in the sculpted owl thingy behind you, too.”

She turned and looked, nodding.  “Terty-eight it is.  You see, Dr. Jensen.  Me nephew Declan is brilliant at manipulating energy.  Lighting terty-eight candles at once is more than a bit unreal, it is.  I can light four, some days five. Me sweet nephew is as much a product of man’s manipulation as yer daughter there.  Jest took a wee bit more than five centuries to get him, is all.  And we know a thing or two about running from enemies, eh Declan, boyo?”

Her brogue was getting thicker, a sure sign her emotions were running high.

“We know you have to go, Dr. Jensen.  Is there anything you need?  Any help we can provide?” I asked.  She was still staring, looking from candle to candle and not meeting my eyes.

Caeco sighed and pulled her mother’s untouched bowl of chowder in front of her. After giving me a little shrug, she started to eat it.

“Dr. Jensen?” I asked.  She still didn’t respond, so I pulled the energy from the candles and they all went out.  She jumped and looked at me.

“Ahem,” Aunt Ashling said, catching my eye and pointing at a scented jar candle on the kitchen counter next to the stove.  We all looked to see it was still lit.

“Damn,” I said softly, mentally snuffing the candle I had missed.  I gave Caeco a shrug of my own, and she grinned back at me between spoons of soup.

Brought back to the reality at hand, Dr. Jensen looked thoughtful.  “Most of our stuff is still in the car, although I left our bad weather clothing at the house we rented.  It’s been fairly warm.  Should have left it in the car,” she mused.  “Kept our cash with me, although it’s getting low.”

“Declan, would ye dig out some jackets and such for the ladies?” my aunt asked.  I jumped up and headed to the mud-room-slash-entryway, where we keep a lot of that kind of gear.  We live in Vermont and as the old saying goes,
If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes. It’ll change.

After a moment’s thought, I also darted into my container room and grabbed some things there, as well.

Aunt Ashling was speaking when I came back into the room, the other two frozen rapt with attention.

“Me sister Maeve was the darling of the family, the best and brightest seen in hundreds of generations.  I was and still am no slouch, mind you, but me sister was in a class by herself, at least until her boy here was born.  I suppose I should have been jealous of her and the attention she got.  But if the family showered her with praise and flattery, then she passed it on to me.  It’s just the way she was, ye see.  I was her baby sister, and she protected and pampered me fierce.  See, our own mum died when I was born, an infection she developed after the birthing.  So my da had impressed on Maeve that she was to look after me.  And did she ever.  It also didn’t hurt me self-esteem that of the two of us, I was the fairer.  Just how it was, just as she was many times more powerful than I in the Craft, although I more than held me own at Divination, which is me own gift.   So we were the famous O’Carroll sisters, known across the county of Tipperary and beyond.  But when Mum died, the leadership of the Circle passed to another, her main rival, Macha Banfill.  Maeve was just a young girl, see, and though no one could doubt as she’d lead the circle one day, she wouldn’t be ready for years to come.

“Macha was of an age as me mum.  Grew up in her shadow, and although she was the next most powerful witch in the village, it was like comparing a clover to a towering oak tree.  And she only had a handful of years afore Maeve would pull the leadership from her.  So she plotted.  We studied our Craft, Maeve and I, and enjoyed being the darlings of the county.  Among the village and in the other Circles around the county, Maeve was known and admired for her abilities.  But among the regular folk, the ones who weren’t privy to the business of the Circles, well, we both got attention, and as I got older, I started to get more of the male attention.  So life was pretty grand for a time.  Our da was the vet, an important job in a farm village, and we studied our Craft and flirted with boys, me more than Maeve.  Till Maeve turned sixteen.  I was just shy of me fourteenth year at that point.  Macha held a grand ceremony for the pride of the Circle and right at the height of it announced that she’d arranged a marriage for me sister.  It was an old tradition in the Circles, see, to make the most likely matches that would strengthen the bloodlines.  Mostly, it worked out well, although it was usually done in groups so that some choice was left to the lads and lasses.  But Macha declared that there were no suitable lads in all of Ireland for our dear Maeve.  Instead, she had put together a match with a Croatian lad who was known to have some ability of his own.  Men of the Craft are rarer than teeth in a hen, but they do appear from time to time, more it seems in modern times.  When they do, they are much sought-after as husbands, as they almost always father strong witch daughters.  So it was that Macha had found the strongest male known at the time.”