The Dragons of Styx Read online

  “In other words, he’s our kind of guy,” Mark said with a grin.

  “Yeah, and he seems to be a straight shooter—no pun intended. He wants me in on the meeting to maintain protocol because I’m your primary contact with LEI Corporate, but also to give himself some credibility, because I know you personally. So…naturally I suggested he include Ramirez in the meeting as well.”

  “Naturally…” Mark’s grin got wider. “I mean, nobody would possibly think you had ulterior motives.” Morgan had been pursuing Nydia Ramirez for over a year in a quest for a romantic relationship—pursuing with enthusiasm, but so far without much success.

  “Of course not!” Morgan insisted. “Hey, he wants to meet with both of you, and Nydia knows Lisa better than I do. Besides, for some reason, he jumped at the suggestion when I told him she works for Corporate Legal. Apparently, he thinks there might be some kind of legal issue involved in whatever he wants to talk about.”

  “Which he still won’t tell us.”

  “No, he’s invoking SAD top-level security on this one. He’ll probably want to swear us all to pain-of-death secrecy on the whole thing. Do you have any idea what it might be about?”

  “Yeah, maybe. Probably has something to do with how his agent came to be our guest in the first place. I mean, she’s a friend of ours, and she’d be welcome here any time, but how she got here is an interesting story. I’ve got a feeling this is going to be a really fun meeting—maybe more so for some of us than for others.”

  Chapter Two: Meet the Dragons

  “You called the meeting. Start when you’re ready.” Mark nodded toward Martelli.

  The LEI people had arrived at the Ferry at 11AM, the earliest Mark would agree to meet. Morgan had introduced Martelli to Mark and Lisa, and they in turn had introduced Waters to Morgan and Ramirez.

  Now the six of them were seated comfortably at the long table in the Charon’s Ferry conference room. Lisa and Waters (dressed in an outfit Lisa had put together for her) sat on one side of the table. Morgan and Ramirez sat on the other side, and if Morgan was crowding a little closer to Ramirez than the needs of the moment required, it didn’t seem to bother her. Mark and Martelli looked at each other from opposite ends of the table.

  Waters had deliberately chosen the seat to Mark’s right—away from her boss—leaving Lisa between her and Martelli. She was scrunched in her chair, looking down at the table as if trying not to be noticed. Mark found the body language interesting. Like she figures Martelli’s pissed at her for what happened last night. That’s OK, because based on what she told me, I have reason to be pissed at him.

  “First off,” Martelli said looking around the table, “I know that you two understand…” he waved at Morgan and Ramirez, “but I have to advise you, Mr. Marshall, and you, Ms. Woods, that what’s said here must be kept in absolute confidence and not disclosed to anyone outside this room.”

  “Let’s keep it informal,” Mark replied. “I’m Mark, she’s Lisa, and nothing said here will ever go outside these walls. We know how to do security at the Ferry.”

  “I can vouch for that.” Morgan chuckled. “I’ve known this guy for years, and I have no idea what goes on in here. Even their clients never talk about it—usually because they’re dead.”

  “All right.” Martelli seemed to relax a bit. “Mark, Lisa, I’m Tony…and I’ll accept your assurance on security, but we’ll probably get into areas even Morgan and Ramirez—excuse me, Jay and Nydia—aren’t cleared for. Things that might get me in trouble even for talking to them about. But I don’t see any other way…we’ve got to do this.

  “So…with that in mind, let’s talk about last night. What exactly happened?” He looked expectantly at Mark.

  “Not really sure,” Mark replied, “but from my viewpoint, it looks like your people seriously screwed the pooch and left Spark here—” he waved in Waters’ direction, “—alone, unarmed, and at the mercy of that creature, whatever it was. After that…well, things are a little confused. What do you think happened?”

  Martelli reddened.

  “Yes,” he admitted. “Two of my people screwed up. I thought Waters was with them, but they left her behind to go after the target. I am going to personally rip each of them a new anal orifice. Waters, I’m sorry…that should never have happened.

  “As for what I think happened, I think she called for help and you…heard her somehow. Where were you at the time?”

  “Right here, upstairs…asleep in bed, as a matter of fact,” Mark responded. “We live in this building.”

  “So I’m told…and we’re what? About 40 plus miles from the warehouse in Anaheim where Waters was trapped?”

  Again, Mark nodded.

  “So then—tell me if I’m wrong—I think one of you responded, somehow transported yourself to the warehouse, terminated the target, grabbed Waters, and came back here—incidentally forgetting to bring her clothes and personal effects along for the ride.”

  He reached down beside his chair and produced Waters’ tote bag, which he shoved down the table toward her.

  “Here…I think I got it all.”

  “Thanks…” she said in a small voice.

  “Now…is there any part of that I got wrong?”

  “Just one thing,” Lisa spoke up. “Both of us responded. I grabbed Sparkle and brought her back—sorry about the clothes, first time I’ve ever tried to do something like that—while Mark ‘terminated the target,’ like you said. What the hell was that ugly thing, anyway?”

  “When people talk about Paranormal Activities, they usually think of ghosts, wraiths, things like that,” he said, “but we also deal in creatures of substance, living things most people don’t believe in, like vampires, zombies, werewolves, and other strange creatures that cause problems. This was one you probably never heard of—a chupacabra.”

  “Really!” Ramirez spoke up. “That’s one from my culture, gringo. The Goat-Sucker—that’s what chupacabra means. My grandfather told me stories about those things when I was a little girl down in Nogales. It’s a Mexican vampire, or maybe a cross between a vampire and a werewolf—supposed to look like a giant dog.”

  “Yes, it’s an intelligent canine that walks upright, but it’s not a lycanthrope. Unlike a werewolf, it doesn’t change to human form. The way it looked last night is its normal appearance. It’s just very stealthy—few people ever see one, unless it’s the last thing they see.”

  “Damned ugly, if you ask me.” Mark snorted. “That thing had a face that would make a freight train take a dirt road.”

  “In any case, you terminated it,” Martelli said, “with a serious case of overkill. It was a living creature, a mortal being—a bullet in the head would have put it down just as effectively.”

  “I forgot to bring my Glock.” Mark shrugged.

  “Right…so my team ended up looking at a hot, smoking pile of charred skeletal remains. Want to tell us how you did that?”

  “Hmmm…not really sure, even now. Look, everybody relax, smoke if you’ve got ‘em. Maybe Lisa and I should just tell you what it looked like from our side of the action.”

  Twenty minutes later, Mark had wrapped up his description of the adventure. He turned to Lisa.

  “Did I miss anything, Love?”

  “Nope! You covered it. Just one little detail…you mentioned a crimson haze around everything just before we launched. For me it wasn’t crimson, it was blue, kind of a deep turquoise color.”

  “But you still don’t know how you did it or how you torched the chupacabra?” Jay Morgan looked puzzled.

  “No…” Mark shook his head, “but I remember when I was chasing it something popped into my head from our days back in the sandbox. You remember what Gunny Meeks used to say?”

  “Oh, hell yes!” Morgan grinned. “Quote, J.R. “Junior” Meeks, Gunnery Sergeant USMC: ‘Most human problems can be solved with proper application of superior firepower.’”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. The chupacabra wasn’t hum
an, but it was a problem that needed to be solved.”

  “Hey, it worked on the BURPs!”

  “BURPs?” Ramirez looked puzzled.

  “Butt-Ugly Raghead Pricks,” Morgan responded. “It’s a military thing.”

  Ramirez turned to Lisa and shook her head.

  “See why I don’t like to go anywhere with this guy?”

  Lisa smiled. But he’s crazy in love with you, and I’m betting it’s more than a little bit mutual.

  Ramirez looked at her in shock, and Lisa realized she hadn’t said the words out loud, but the other woman had heard her! Thinking back, she realized it was the same way she and Mark had spoken to each other last night, during the rescue. Another thing I’m going to have to get used to—and learn how to control.

  Ramirez looked around. Apparently, nobody else had heard the remark. She turned back to Lisa, smiled, and nodded.

  “OK…” Martelli spoke up, getting everyone’s attention again. “So now we have a problem—the whole reason I needed to talk to you. Waters, have you told them…I mean, do they know what they are?”

  “Yes…I told them last night,” she said in a quiet voice.

  “What she probably hasn’t told you—” he gave Waters a disapproving look, “—is that she’s known ‘what you are’ for about six months—ever since she came over here to conduct that paranormal activity study we asked for.”

  “Your dear friend Sparkling has a talent, you see—the whole reason she’s on my team. She can sense, locate, recognize, and track things that are in the realm of the paranormal—and apparently some things beyond even that. We didn’t expect her to find what she found—we thought with the number of people who have died here in this building, we would see some evidence of spirit activity. Surprisingly, she found none of that…she found you instead.

  “I didn’t believe her when she told me. She’s gone off on crazy quests before, sometimes right, sometimes wrong, but seriously—nobody’s seen a dragon in about a thousand years. I figured she was just dreaming, and I told her to forget it, but she wouldn’t let it go. She went off on her own, and you’ve been her private research project for the last six months.

  “Until last night. Well, you’ve proved your point, Waters. Are you happy now?”

  Waters said nothing, but there were tears in her eyes as she looked at Lisa.

  “Sparkle…is that true?” Lisa wanted to know. Mark wore a serious look.

  “No…I mean…it’s not like that, it’s…” She sobbed.

  “Hey…it’s OK. We’re still friends, nothing’s changed,” Lisa assured her. “I understand why you might be afraid to tell us. It’s OK.” She reached out and put a hand on Waters’ cheek.

  “Did somebody just say dragon?” Ramirez wanted to know. “I mean, dragon, as in giant fire-breathing reptiles of ancient lore?”

  “Yeah…” Jay Morgan chimed in. “I mean…hey, I don’t see anything like that in this room.”

  “That’s not what a dragon is,” Martelli said. “That’s just a manifestation—one of the ways it might appear to an observer when it’s in…‘dragon mode,’ for want of a better term.”

  “It’s not just a manifestation.” Waters had recovered somewhat and was wiping her nose with a tissue Lisa had given her. “I thought it was, but it’s not—it’s an actual living creature. Cultures all over the world, from China to eastern Europe, from Africa to the Scandinavian countries, all reported seeing them that way—giant fire-breathing reptiles with wings.

  “And that’s what I saw in the warehouse last night,” she added in a small voice. “Two of them.”

  The silence that followed lasted an awfully long time. Mark and Lisa looked at Waters; Morgan and Ramirez looked at Mark and Lisa. Martelli just sat there, watching all of them. Hell, we haven’t even gotten to the real issue, but at least the dragons haven’t torched me yet.

  Finally, Lisa spoke.

  “Did I really look like that? I had no idea…guess I forgot to bring my makeup mirror.”

  “At first, all I saw were your eyes,” Waters told them. “Huge eyes—blue, just like your…human eyes, but shaped differently. Then Mark’s eyes—same thing, but grey. It was dark, and the rest was just a couple of huge shapes…and then it got brighter. Don’t know where the light came from, but I saw you the way you were.”

  She turned to Lisa.

  “You were beautiful—terrifying, but beautiful. Scales like polished metal, blue, kind of like your eyes, but more…you said turquoise. Yes, that was it—turquoise with black and silver accents. And you—” she turned to Mark, “—were dark red, with black and kind of like copper color along the edges of the scales.

  “And…omigod! Fangs and claws! At that point I sensed it was you, but I didn’t know what you would do in dragon mode. I mean, in all the old legends, when a dragon shows up, it’s usually pissed off about something and burns down a village, eats everybody….

  “Then you,” she nodded at Mark again, “went after the chupacabra, Lisa grabbed me, and I kinda went lights out.”

  “…and woke up here, naked, in bed.” Lisa chuckled. “Don’t worry, Sparkle, we would never eat you.”

  “Wouldn’t eat the chupacabra, either,” Mark added. “Probably taste as bad as it looked.”

  There was another moment of silence, then Morgan spoke up.

  “I’m sorry…I’m not seeing it. I look at them, and it’s still Mark, my old Marine Corps brother-in-arms, and his favorite lady, the lovely Lisa. I see ordinary humans—wild and crazy people, mind you—but humans all the same, not dragons.”

  “They are human—at the moment,” Martelli said. “Think of a werewolf. It’s human, too…until it changes. It’s all about…well, for want of a better word, magic.”

  “Huh?”

  “Look, Waters…” Martelli turned to his subordinate, “all I know about the subject is what you’ve told me. You did all the research; why don’t you explain it to them?”

  “I already did…to Mark and Lisa, last night,” she said.

  “They’re smarter than I am,” Morgan insisted. “Can you kind of explain it in terms a dumb grunt Marine from Tennessee can understand?”

  “Or a farm girl from Nogales?” Ramirez added with a chuckle. Morgan looked at her with a snort—knowing the ‘farm girl’ had more college degrees than the average tenured professor.

  “OK…well, you’re LifeEnders people,” she said, “but what I’m going to tell you goes beyond what most LEI people ever see. What do you two know about the Arcane Arts group?”

  “Nothing but shit-house rumors.” Morgan shrugged. “Supposed to be into magic and weird stuff like that, but not supposed to be any of my business. I’m supposed to call them if I run into anything that looks like magic. Hasn’t happened so far.”

  “Actually, I know them fairly well.” Ramirez produced a sour look. “Bunch of arrogant bastards who tend to forget they’re doing business in a normal world full of normal people who have laws and regulations to keep things in order. When the mighty wizards run afoul of those laws, I’m the one who has to bail them out—literally, in some cases, as in ‘get their asses out of jail.’ Of course, they could probably magic their way out, but Corporate would get really upset with them, so that’s one of the few lines they haven’t crossed yet.”

  Waters produced a smile, her first of the evening.

  “Right…” she said. “They do magic, sorcery, whatever you want to call it. They do that by connecting to a special realm, a dimension they call kaval, where a special power exists. You might think of it like ‘the Force’ in that old Sci-Fi video series, just a deep reservoir of power they can tap as needed to do their magical stuff.

  “But there’s more to it than that…stuff none of us in this room are supposed to know.” Her smile vanished, replaced by a serious expression.

  “Getting to that reservoir of power—kaval—isn’t easy. Only certain people have the right mindset, and even then, it takes a lot of special training before th
ey can ‘use the Force’ to do anything. It requires some sort of effort to make the connection, and our local Arcane Arts magic users can’t do it naturally. They need a spell, an incantation, a complicated gesture to focus that force, and sometimes they need a magic item like a wand, a talisman, or a pentagram on the floor, depending on what they want to do. If they don’t have the right spell or the right magical item, it ain’t gonna happen.

  “Most of them never manage to master more than one or two skills—they’re like specialists in a particular type of magic. They probably don’t understand the true nature of kaval—they’re just doing what they’ve been trained to do. At least, that’s the impression I got.

  “A lot of the people at Arcane Arts don’t have any magic skills. They’re just investigators—doing the same kind of thing I do for Paranormal—but some of them are Shooters, and they use magic skills as well as traditional weapons to kill, just like regular Shooters in the ‘normal’ world.”

  She paused and looked at each of them in turn.

  “All of you are Shooters, but only one of you has a First-Class license—you, Mr. Morgan.

  “That doesn’t mean you’re any better at killing than these four. You got to be First Class because you were one of the original LifeEnders—the guys who went after the terrorists. You could have had a franchise of your own if you hadn’t decided to take a corporate job instead.”

  Morgan nodded. “I’ve gotten to like the feeling of a nice, leather-covered swivel chair under me,” he said with a grin.

  “The rest of you have what’s known as the basic Shooter’s license,” Waters continued. “Mark and Lisa only kill people who come here voluntarily with suicide in mind. They have a franchise, but it’s limited to that, not like a First-Class franchise. For you, Ms. Ramirez, the license is just an extra tool in your briefcase in case legal arguments won’t settle the issue.