Nefertiti’s Curse: An Urban Fantasy Page 9

  “You’ve seen all my sides.”

  “And they all look good, Babe. Smart is the new black.”

  They all laughed.

  Xavier was glad he had come back.

  Then Anna said, “Xavier, would you like me to serve you twelve fluid ounces of Orangina with six half-octagonal ice crystals in a container composed of a silicon-oxygen tetrahedra compound? Based upon your mass of ninety-two point eight kilograms, this will refresh you for twenty-three point five minutes before you will need to excrete the excess liquid from your bladder, which has a capacity of—”

  “That’s enough,” Caden cut in. “Would you mind going to check on the girls for me?”

  Her neck rotated thirty degrees twice in quick succession. “Of course, Babe,” she said, returning to her original voice and disposition. “Xavier it was a pleasure to meet you. I’ll make sure I’m at the door with bells on the next time you stop by.”

  “The pleasure was all mine,” he said.

  “Let me go see what the princesses are up to,” she said.

  After she had gone, Caden said, “A human-sized skull has a lot less room for interaction subroutines than a data center. We had to leave some things out.”

  “She seems good with the kids,” Xavier said.

  “I modeled her maternal subroutines on Cherise.”

  Cherise Wells had been Caden’s wife and was the biological parent of his two children. She had died from cancer years earlier.

  “I know firsthand what it’s like to grow up without a biological parent,” Xavier said. “It’s a blessing to have someone who shows you just as much as love.”

  “Anna loves the girls,” Caden said. “And they certainly love her.”

  Xavier paused a moment before coming back to his original question. “Do they know?”

  “Yes. They’ve always known. Simone even knows how to reboot Anna when she glitches. Knowing hasn’t affected their emotional bond in any way that I can see. Love is what counts.”

  Xavier thought of all the truths he knew about Isabella and decided he could only agree.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  Over two hundred members of the local supernatural community mingled inside a cavernous warehouse in the Port Richmond section of Philadelphia. Physical meetings like this were rare, but the tumult spreading in the wake of Baynin’s fruit had led to demands for a parlay. It was too risky to gather everyone in a single location, so lots had been drawn to decide who would attend in person and who would participate remotely through the enchanted mirrors spread throughout the room.

  Security for the meeting was being handled by the local clan of orcs. Two dozen of the hulking green-skinned humanoids patrolled the room, keeping an eye out for trouble and ensuring that those attendees who were enemies or the traditional prey of other attendees maintained a safe distance. The largest and most intimidating orc was stationed at the building entrance with a werewolf and a shaman who were checking the scents and auras of everyone seeking entrance.

  Although Xavier knew the lycan and the shaman by name, they had still insisted he transform into his anubis before they would let him inside. The orc had taken two menacing steps toward him before he agreed to comply.

  Now, back in human form, he stood in the rear of the room studying the bizarre crowd. He spotted a large, slithery grootslang in front of the receiving dock pacing back and forth on its eight legs. This was a surprising sight since the reclusive cryptids rarely left their underground tunnels. Scanning the other end of the room he noticed a mage from the Roxborough Magic Guild whispering in the ear of a topless and curvaceous harpy, who seemed to be relishing the attention she was getting from the males in the vicinity.

  When Xavier turned from that scene he found Ghox, the orc clan leader, staring directly at the grootslang. The warlord was at a table with the other Council members, his stony expression giving no hint of his emotional state.

  Isabella strode to the front of the room. “May I please have your attention. We would like to begin.” The crowd quieted. “As always, we ask that you put any differences aside for the duration of this meeting.” She cut a glance to the exhibitionist harpy. “We also ask that you cease any behavior that may draw attention from our speakers. Given the record attendance this evening, I think it is fair to say that our topic is of grave importance.”

  Two fairies the size of a human hand popped into existence next to the harpy’s head. They were carrying a brown cloth that the harpy snatched with an eye roll and then tied around her chest.

  After other Council members delivered a census report and a security briefing, Isabella came back before the audience. “Before I call Bethany and Chiyem up to deliver the special report on the anomalies, I want to ask everyone to hold your questions until they have both had an opportunity to give their full presentations. This matter of decorum will be enforced if need be.”

  Ghox came to stand beside her to reinforce the point.

  Isabella nodded to her left. A graceful young woman and a dwarf covered in silver fur approached the speaker’s area. Bethany was a wood nymph who appeared to be in her twenties and fastidiously kept her naturally green hair dyed brown. Her counterpart was an Eloko dwarf from Central Africa named Chiyembekezo who was garbed in a tasteful dashiki of red and gold. The diminutive, middle-aged creature looked closer to a koala bear than most species of dwarves.

  Bethany spoke first. “Hello everyone. We will be giving our presentation in two parts: First, I will share with you what we know and believe about the individual who is distributing a biological change agent throughout supernatural communities worldwide. Chiyem will then give a second presentation sharing what we know and believe about the biological agent itself.”

  “Do the second part first!” a feminine voice yelled out from the crowd.

  “Yes, tell us about the fruit!” a different male voice called out.

  “Respect the speakers,” another voice shouted at the male speaker.

  A chorus of shouting and general disorder followed.

  Ghox rose to his feet at the Council table and bellowed, “Order!”

  But that only worked on half the audience.

  The orcs began to gather in a two-column formation on either side of the main audience stations.

  Isabella nodded to two witches from the Swarthmore coven who were standing ten feet to the left of the Council table.

  The witches recited a spell in unison that caused a translucent one-way sound bubble to engulf the majority of the audience. The bubble used magic to collapse sound waves, so speaking or shouting had no audible effect.

  The room became eerily quiet. Isabella began making her way to the speaker’s area.

  Before she got there, the mage who had been flirting with the harpy cast his own spell that counteracted the sound bubble. “Nobody tells me to shut up with a spell!” he said indignantly before he was drowned out by the return of raucous crowd noise.

  Ghox gave a hand signal to his troops. They withdrew shock tasers from shoulder holsters and began closing in on the audience.

  The grootslang had been furtively creeping toward the front of the room while all of this was happening. As an orc prepared to shock a rowdy vampire, the grootslang roared and fell upon an unsuspecting Chiyem. The dwarf barely had an opportunity to look up before it was swallowed whole. The grootslang whipped his head back and forth as a bulge slid down its throat toward its abdomen.

  This shocked most of the crowd into silence.

  Ghox leapt over the Council table and sprinted toward the grootslang. As he ran, he expanded a retractable pole with three articulating arms at its tip. He used the pole to pin the grootslang’s neck to the wall. Other orcs arrived with similar pole devices which they used to restrain the grootslang’s extremities.

  “I am within my rights,” the grootslang wheezed. “Eloko prey. Within my rights.”

  Ghox looked to the Council table for guidance. The cryptids had inde
ed fed on Eloko dwarves since they had been introduced into Africa by German tank divisions during World War II.

  An elderly man with red skin and intricate kanji tattoos rose from his seat at the Council table. “You fool!” he snapped at the Grootslang. “Chiyem had information we all seek. You are well aware the Lenape Accords suspend your right to hunt during a parlay. I call for an immediate Vote of Violation.”

  “Seconded,” Bethany said, glaring at the writhing grootslang. “Chiyem was the kindest soul on this whole plane of existence. And he was a friend to many of us.”

  Ghox drew a large blade in preparation for acting on the vote.

  “Opposed,” Isabella announced. “Wisdom dictates that we interrogate this beast to discover who is behind this clear act of sabotage. Nothing in the Accords prevents us from calling for a Vote of Violation after we have obtained this information.”

  “Yes,” the grootslang hissed. “Gypsy human wise. You must interro—”

  The creature’s midsection suddenly exploded outward, showering everyone nearby with blood and intestines.

  Gasps of disgust rose from the crowd.

  A well-muscled Biloko dwarf with long curved fangs and thick black claws climbed out of the Grootslang’s limp body and nervously evaluated its surroundings. Its silver fur was stained dark with blood.

  The Biloko were the ferocious genetic cousins of the gentle Eloko forest people.

  “Chiyem?” Bethany asked, grootslang gore festooned about her face and hair.

  The dwarf turned to her and gave the closest approximation of a smile that its huge fangs would allow. “Beth..ah..nee.”

  Two orcs snapped their pole clamps on the dwarf’s arms.“How...”

  The dwarf’s body began to contract down into Chiyem’s original Eloko form. When the transformation was complete, it easily withdrew its much slimmer arms from the clamps and examined its clawless hands.

  “The fruit,” Chiyem said. “I ate the fruit.”

  Before anyone could respond, a short, balding Caucasian man stepped up next to Chiyem and asked, “Is this a bad time to get my parking ticket validated?”

  * * *

  The stranger said they could call him Howling.

  He was in a small room with Xavier, Isabella, Ghox and two members of the Council.

  After nearly an hour of listening to the man dodge their questions about his identity and motives, Isabella said, “Mr. Howling, I will admit that we do not yet know how you came to be aware of our parlay or how you managed to bypass our security. However, you have given us no reason to believe your claims and certainly no reason to cooperate with you. For all we know, you could be a DSO operative or Baynin himself in disguise.”

  “How about this,” Howling said. “I will provide you with a list of the next three individuals inside the Self Governance Zone who will receive visits from Baynin. To prove that I am not him, I will allow you to detain me in your super-secret safe house in Camden for the next week. Check on me every hour and watch me on the cameras. If my information bears itself out, then you will accept my help.”

  “And if it does not?” Isabella asked.

  Howling gave her a devilish grin. “Then you can keep me as your love slave until the next Solstice. But you have to promise to use the silk whips because the leather ones chaff the delicate skin of my butt. Does anybody else have that problem?”

  “What about the DSO?” one of the Council members asked. “What assurances can you give us that you are not here on its behalf?”

  “I can give you my word that I am not plus some advice: If you want to get rid of your ant problem, you have to find the queen.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Washington, DC, Two Days Later

  Elaine Waldren, the Chairwoman of the DSO Oversight Committee, said, “Oh Wilson, you’re too kind.”

  She was at a table in the Senate Dining Room sharing a meal with a junior congressman from a neighboring state.

  Despite her gracious remarks, she found her dining companion a boorish halfwit. He had repeatedly mispronounced Worcestershire to the server and made unseemly slurping noises with his straw each time he vacuumed up the last drops of his cola. She could barely wait for the phone call from her aide with the fabricated emergency she would use to escape.

  The building suddenly lost power.

  “I guess the Green Party forgot to pay the light bill,” Wilson yelled out before laughing uproariously.

  There were nervous murmurs around the dark room.

  Elaine tapped three times on the ring that was provided to every senior official involved with the DSO. This caused an invisible shield of Vampthrax and anti-magic particles to spring up around her body. Wilson’s laughter became slightly muffled.

  A dozen plates crashed to the floor near the kitchen.

  Elaine was just beginning to get concerned when the electricity returned. Then she screamed and leapt out of her seat.

  The rotting, decapitated head of a dead grootslang had joined them at the table.

  Twenty-nine minutes later Carlos and Secretary of Defense Robert Landon were seated in Elaine’s office.

  “And you know what’s worse?” Elaine asked in her Southern accent. “My security detail had to use my last set of octo lights to do a two-hour wipe on Wilson. It probably raised his IQ by ten points, but I like to save those for my husband.”

  “I’ve already directed the DIA to provide you with five new sets,” Landon said.

  “Yes, they arrived ten minutes ago. Thank you for your prompt attention to that Bob. Now, what was that hideous thing at my table?”

  Landon nodded, giving Carlos the okay to answer. “It was the severed head of a grootslang. It’s sort of like a giant insect that can talk.”

  “What the hell was it doing in the Senate Dining Room?”

  “We’re still investigating that Ma’am,” Landon said. “It’s our number one priority.”

  “That answer does not inspire confidence,” Elaine said.

  “We want to conduct a full review to ensure we provide you with accurate information,” Landon said.

  “I’m fine with speculation until then,” she said.

  “We think it may have been Baynin sending us a warning,” Carlos said. “We have satellite footage of him in the vicinity of a grootslang nest four days ago.”

  “A nest,” Landon added,” located in the SGZ, where we allow God-forsaken monstrosities like that to roam free.”

  “Baynin,” Elaine said, squinting in concentration. “Is that the entity you briefed me about two weeks ago? The one who is going around the world giving out new powers like the supernatural Kris Kringle?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Carlos said.

  “What are we doing about him?”

  “I just doubled the size of the task force dedicated to finding and neutralizing him,” Carlos said. “And we reallocated some of our strongest wards to provide additional protection to your home and offices.”

  “Wards?” Elaine asked. “Is that the best we can do? This entity just conducted a successful incursion into the Capitol Complex.”

  “There are other options,” Carlos said.

  “We are pursuing every option that is consistent with the letter and spirit of the law,” Landon said quickly.

  “What option do you suggest?” Elaine asked Carlos, ignoring Landon.

  “I recommend that we reach out to the other side and propose a joint operation to stop Baynin. This substance that he is distributing is causing massive upheaval in their social structures and exposing all of them to an existential risk. They’re just as afraid of Baynin bypassing their security as we are of him bypassing ours. And the reality is that they can access resources that we simply cannot.”

  “Such as?”

  “There at least two entities that I know of who are guaranteed to have knowledge of Baynin’s whereabouts, but neither of them will work with us.”

  “And we can’t force the information out of them?”


  “They’re located in hostile nations.”

  Elaine hadn’t thought of that. “I want to give this approach a try,” she said to Landon. “It worked for us in Iraq.”

  “Of course, Ma’am,” Landon said. “I will see to it personally.”

  “That is fantastic,” she said, dismissing them. “Keep me posted.”

  A few minutes after they had gone, she called Landon privately and told him what she really thought they should do.

  * * *

  Three days later an orc unlocked a door inside a nondescript home in Camden, New Jersey and stepped into a room. Isabella stepped in behind it.

  Howling was inside the room leisurely floating in midair with his hands clasped behind his head.

  “We will give you one week,” she said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Oslo, Norway

  The Centre for Gender Studies at the University of Oslo was housed in a gleaming glass and steel building with a twenty-meter tall sculpture of the goddess Athena dominating its central atrium. The entire top level of the building was an ultramodern fitness center. That’s where Xavier and Howling stood watching Astrid complete the last reps of her kickboxing workout with a female trainer.

  Astrid was punishing her trainer’s mitts with brutal straight leg kicks, each punctuated by a feral yell. This display of fury went on for several minutes before the session ended with a sweeping roundhouse kick that sent her trainer flying to the ground with a yelp.

  Xavier glanced down at Howling, who said, “Girl fights are so hot.”

  Astrid patted her face with a towel and came over to greet them. Howling made introductions.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Hellstand,” Xavier said.

  “Call me Astrid,” she said with a heavy Norwegian accent while scrutinizing his tattoos.

  “Is there someplace we can speak in private?”

  She smiled.

  A half hour later the two of them sat together atop a rock climbing wall that nearly touched the ceiling.