The Wounded World, Part 3 free porn video

Mantra is the creation of Michael W. Barr. Mantra and other characters originally introduced in Malibu Comics are the copyrighted properties of Marvel Comics, Inc. All opening chapter quotes are from the poetry of William Blake. THE WOUNDED WORLD Part Three By Aladdin A story of Mantra Chapter 12 "Dating the NM-E" "And mutual fear brings peace Till the selfish love increase. Then cruelty knits a snare And spread his nets with care." The idea of a schoolgirl running headlong into danger bothered me, but I was hemmed in. All I could do was monitor communications and take in the play-by-play reports coming in from Greg Tunney. It had been almost six o'clock when I'd contacted Lauren. Five minutes later a new update from Tunney let us know that he had released NM-E. The robot, according to the report, had crossed the mall tarmac like a great stalking insect. The first sighting of the metallic thing had spread alarm like wildfire and hundreds of panicked shoppers were fleeing to their cars, or else taking off on foot. I glanced over my shoulder. Smekes was beaming; the stage seemed set for a major Aladdin coup, one all to his credit. The plan required that the A-team wait several minutes, hoping that Mantra or some other hero would show up to offer battle. Then the squad would rush in with nets and stun guns and the captured hero would be taken away for indoctrination and brainwashing. Should no ultra appear, the team would call NM-E back and move it to an alternate site, a movieplex located about a mile away. I kept my fingers crossed, hoping that Lauren found her mom and had gotten her out. I had already tipped the girl off that if she simply refused to fight there would be no serious consequences. I kept glancing at the clock. Sometime after eleven, E.D.T. -- only some two hours away -- a Nagasaki-style disaster would take down New York. I wished more and more that I were still Mantra. I don't know exactly what I could have done, since even teleporting across the country to the scene of the imminent disaster would have drained me to the dregs. In such a condition I would have been hard put even to fight with ordinary terrorists, much less something fancy. Worse, I didn't know anyone who could pinch hit for me in such a situation. None of the few ultras whom I could contact mentally lived anywhere near New York. It seemed hopeless. But was it wise to try to change history? What were the wider consequences? There had to be some. Wouldn't a change that helped one group inevitably harm another? Every act, from the largest and smallest, must surely carry with it unintended consequences. The one good thing about doing nothing was that a person could call the results "fate" and think that they've removed responsibility from one's own shoulders. But wasn't that POV just rationalization? Maybe, maybe not, but it left me in a dilemma. I've usually honored the maxim "he who hesitates is lost," even though that attitude has steered me into disaster many a time. If I see bad things coming, I'm driven by my nature to try and forestall them. That's POV again. Napoleon's idea of bad things would have been much different from Wellington's.... If things happened as they'd happened before, 'Strike would be one of the night's big losers. I may or may not have already changed history locally, but there was no way for the ripples of my actions to reach New York by 11:00 p.m. Deep down, the thought nagged at me that Tark really would turn renegade. The Night of Terror had driven Prime out of his wits; it could just as easily have tipped 'Strike into some form of destructive dementia. An electronic voice interrupted my glum reverie. It was Tunney checking in again, this time to tell us that NM-E had made positive contact with his ultra opponent. I closed my eyes and clenched my fists. That was the sort of news that I'd least wanted to hear. But wait! Maybe it was some other ultra involved, not Lauren. "What does the opponent look like, Wrath?" I asked, my throat tight. "It's not the red-headed chick," he reported. "I'm seeing that bouncy cheerleader-type, the one that your little girl called 'Mantra.' She's coming on strong. That kid's got real power!" Worst-case scenario! Why was Lauren doing this? She didn't have to, not after my warning. But why do kids her age do ~anything?~ "If we're going to keep that little lady confined, Sarn will have to pump a lot of dope into her," put in Smekes. I hoped no one saw me glare. That was what they were doing to Blythe Ashwin and I hated it. But Ashwin was at least a bona fide criminal. Lauren was guilty of nothing except showing off. I was so angry with the people around me that I might have done something rash had I still possessed Mantra's power. "The cheerleader just bounced one of NM-E's own electrical bolts back at him..." Tunney was saying. "He's staggered. I'm going to see if his chips can still function normally. 'NM-E -- intercept and detain....'" Then suddenly he yelled ~"No!"~ and went silent. I sucked in a breath. According to the history I knew, Lauren had just trashed the equipment that our man on the scene needed to control the world's most destructive killing machine. Even now NM-E robot would be rebooting into its original psychotic program -- a program that Aladdin's techs had only suppressed, not eliminated. We couldn't expect to receive any more information from Wrath. He'd soon intervene to help Lauren as things spun out of control and would get himself seriously injured for his efforts. ~I couldn't help but think that he wasn't such a bad guy after all.~ "Try to pick up Tunney's lieutenant on the A-team," I instructed the communication officers. A moment later they'd raised a woman on our dedicated bandwidth. "Smoke is coming from Wrath's van," she reported in agitation. "Tunney doesn't respond. The ultras are dueling between him and us. I'm sending someone to circle around the fracas and ascertain his status!" "It doesn't sound like Tunney's made a very competent deployment," Smekes put in sourly, "not if he's already managed to get himself cut off." I gritted my teeth. The director's mind was racing. He already had an inkling that this project wasn't going to turn out well and was fishing around for a scapegoat. He might not be much of a leader, but Smekes had what it takes to survive in bureaucracy politics. "The witch must have attacked the mission center," I said out loud. "Wrath may have lost control of NM-E, and that could mean slaughter at the Mall." I turned my chair around to face the director. "Mr. Smekes, we'll have to deploy a heavy support team immediately, one authorized to take that monstrosity out -- if necessary." "Ahhh..?" he seemed confused, unsure, but if he didn't know what to do, I sure did. "Issue me a car, sir," I told him. "I have to get to Sherman Way and monitor what's happening before the whole mall is wrecked." Smekes, still looking out of his depth, fell back toward his subordinate. "Give her what she needs," he ordered. Meanwhile, I kept listening to the com, but nothing was coming in. "Your van is in the loading zone, ma'am," Smeke's aide called out a minute later. Without waiting for our director to get second thoughts, I made for the parking lot. # The Sunday evening traffic wasn't bad and we made good time toward Canoga Park. Unless I was running ahead of schedule, the battle would be over before I arrived. If Lauren were still all right, I'd pretend to be a hard-nosed cop trying to catch "Mantra" but would let her "outsmart" me and get away. If she wasn't all right -- well, that was something I didn't want to think about. The Sunday evening traffic only got bad at the point where we steered into the street that flanked the Mall. Every car in the lot was trying to get away from NM-E. More exasperatingly, other motorists were pouring in -- throngs of thrill-seekers hoping to witness a first-class ultra brawl, as reported on the radio. Horns blared as the contrary streams ran foul of each other and brought us all to a jarring halt. "Out of the car!" I told the team. "We'll go the rest of the way on foot." I rapidly pulled ahead of my squad, loaded down as they were with rocket launchers and other equipment. No sooner did I reach the parking lot than I saw something like a V-2 rocket soar into the sky. I could tell at a glance that it was NM-E, making his escape by means of some advanced form of jet propulsion. Thank God that that the robot was out of the picture! The escape of NM- E wasn't good, but at least things weren't any worse than before. At this point I would have been happy just to break even. I knew the layout of the shopping center from many past visits. Recalling that Lauren's fight with NM-E had come to a crisis inside the Toy World store, I made directly for it. That's when I saw Wrath stagger out of the wreckage, holding his shoulder and limping. I pimpled with gooseflesh. He should have been in much worse shape. History had been changed. But if Tunney was a winner in this crapshoot, was Lauren a loser? "Tunney," I yelled. "Where's L -- Mantra?" "Back -- Back in there," he gasped. I scrambled through a gaping hole in the Toy World wall. Inside, it looked like a herd of buffaloes had run through the aisles using flame- throwers. Broken and scorched toys were strewn everywhere. A headless action figure of Mantra stood upright at my feet and the sight of it gave me pause, if only for a second. My eyes tearing from the stinging smoke, I scanned the jumble. When someone touched my shoulder I jumped and swung about. Tunney again. "She's -- she's over there, M-Mrs. Blake. B-Behind those boxes," he stammered. I went where he pointed and, amid a pile of crumpled cartons, I beheld as bad a sight as I never hoped to see again. It was Lauren, all right. Blood covered her slim body and that peaches-and-cream flesh of hers was torn in many places. The gray-colored magic armor she'd been wearing looked amply scarred, though it had not been broken. It didn't have to be. Her open throat made all the rest of her wounds superfluous. I cried out in dismay and dashed to the teenager's side. Desperately feeling for a pulse, I detected warmth in her limp arm, but not a hint of life. She hadn't been dead long. ~But dead she was.~ The realization hit me like a blow. Lauren was dead. "It -- It got outta hand," Tunney was yammering behind me. "She trashed the controls. The thing went wild. The harder she fought, the more lethally it attacked. She was just a kid -- no match for a monster like that. I tried to go berserk and lend a hand, but NM-E knocked me head over heels before I could make a move. By the time the world stopped spinning, it was too late." I nodded, my voice stolen away. Lauren had admired Mantra; two nights before she had risked everything to save her. She could have been one of the world's greatest ultras, but she hadn't been ready to live up to the risk and responsibility. Why had the girl pitched into such an insane fight in the first place? Was it just bravado? The thought of her grieving parents at her graveside, their faces wet with tears, sliced like a dagger through my breast. How could they -- how could any parent -- bear the sudden, violent death of a child? And then there was Evie. She would soon know that her friend, the one who had rescued her mother and made happiness possible had been killed in a terrible way. I shook my head. The next day was going to be unbearable for both the child and me. I didn't want to see Evie cry. Not again. Not so soon. I felt Tunney's arm around me. I swallowed hard and struggled to get a grip on myself. "I know. This is bad," he said. "I feel like crying myself." I closed my lids, shutting out the sight of Lauren. What was I suppose to do now? I stiffened and raised my head. I'd seen thousands die over the centuries. I had seen countless children die, too. The loss of friends was no new experience, not for me. That was life. That was death. I didn't have the luxury of giving in and falling apart -- not quite yet. I stood up beside the corpse; Tunney backed off a step. First I had to report in to HQ. My emotions screamed "to hell with headquarters," but I had to act like a strong and steady agent. Helping Gus later on might depend on preserving Aladdin's confidence in me. Okay then, what first? The perimeter had to be controlled, of course. The girl's body had to be seen to. When Sarn and Smekes learned who this new Mantra had been, they would know that she had had a suspicious link to Eden Blake. I'd have to talk my way out of it, somehow. What else? Tunney. He needed medical attention. By now some of the other agents began piling into the toy store belatedly, loaded down with weaponry. I turned and faced them, my chin high, my fists clenched. I had a role to play. I had to make my colleagues think that death and destruction couldn't move me. I needed to show that the interests of the Company were all that mattered to agent Eden Blake. "Send for an ambulance," I told the Aladdin squad. "P-Put up a cordon. Keep every one out until a forensic team has done its work. Don't give any statement to reporters. Don't add anything to what the public doesn't already know. Standard procedure." "Yes, ma'am," someone said. # By the time I got back to HQ it was full darkness and the first word of New York's disaster had hit the airwaves. The news services had all gone crazy. At first there was only incoherence from reporters that were clearly losing it. The situation was made worse by the fact that so many communications centers had been wiped out -- including the New York Times building. The story at first had no shape, no form. Nothing was being broadcast except hysteria. The media's misinformation, fear and paranoia were now spreading across the country. The death of a new and unknown young ultra at a suburban mall in the Los Angeles area was going to pass with almost no notice. Only her friends and family would have the presence of mind to mourn. I had hoped that in such a confused climate Smekes would let me off without requiring an immediate report, but no such luck. The new director was the consummate officeholder. Mass death wouldn't stop him from crossing every "T" and dotting every "I". The suffering of others never moves the driven careerist type; nothing matters except looking good and shifting blame. And there would be plenty of blame to shift in the Mall fiasco. All the senior personnel on the A-team, along with the ranking members of its local support staff, were ordered to stand by for debriefing, starting with Wrath. On the other hand, our security level had been downgraded and I was finally given leave to call out. Evie would be with her grandma, I knew, and so dialed accordingly. "Hello, M-Mom," I said when Barbara Freeman answered. "You sound awful, Eden. Where on earth have you been?" I took a deep breath and steadied the tremor in my voice. "I'm at the downtown office. I was able to...to look in on Gus in San Francisco. He was in sedation and we couldn't talk. But a work-related crisis came up while I was there. I didn't have any choice but to pitch in and deal with that, too. We were under a communications shutdown until just now." "Was it about New York? Eden, what's happening? Are there going to be more attacks?" "No, I don't think so. We don't know much yet. The New York blast came as a total surprise." She wanted to know more about Gus, but I fended her off, hinting that it wasn't the right time to go into it. "A lot of people suffered strange effects Friday night," I said. "Some unknown energy from outer space struck around the Earth and affected not just Gus but a lot of people. We've been trying to get the facts. Maybe the blast in New York was an aftershock, or maybe not. I'll head home and tell you everything I'm allowed to, just as soon as I'm released." "You should have found some way to talk to Evie before this. You know what a fright she's had. She needs her mother more now than ever." "I'm sorry. This is government and they do things their own way." I doubt that satisfied her, but she changed her tone. "Eden, the A.P. was here yesterday, wanting to know all about what happened Friday. You hardly told me anything before rushing off, and Evie couldn't say very much without starting to cry. I did get the idea from her that you two weren't together for most of the night. What happened?" "There's not much to tell," I evaded. "We'll speak soon." I wondered if I could make Mrs. Freeman believe what I'd told Tunney -- that I'd laid unconscious in an empty lot until morning. "Is Evie there?" I asked, glad to change the subject. Mother summoned the little girl to the phone. "Mommy!" It felt good to hear her voice; it was just the thing that my frayed nerves needed. "Darling, I wanted you to know that I was all right and that I'm going to see you soon." "Are you still in San Frisco, Mommy?" "No, darling. I'm back at work, not even an hour away from you. I'm waiting to talk to the boss, but after that I'll come and stay with you." "You're really okay?" "I'm very tired, but I'm perfectly okay." "Did you get your ---?" I thought she wanted to ask if my powers had come back, so I quickly interrupted. "Shhh, honey. No, that didn't happen. But, please, remember that we never talk about important family things like that over the phone." "Okay. I'm sorry, Mommy. Did you hear how a super bomb landed on New York? That's on the right side of the map, isn't it?" "Yes, Button. It's terrible news. Try not to think about it." "And they said on TV that a monster attacked the mall were we always shop. Mommy, what's happening? Is the world coming to an end?" "No, I don't think so, Precious. It's one of those funny weeks when everything bad seems to happen at once." Apparently Aladdin hadn't released information that "Mantra" was dead or else Evie would have brought it up already. I didn't want to give her the awful news before I absolutely had to. She'd need lots of hugs and kisses to pull her through. "Did you find out where Gus is?" she asked eagerly. "Yes, I did. The doctors gave him something to make him sleep. I'll have to go back and talk to him later, after he wakes up." "You're going to go away again so soon? It's such a long way!" "I know, sweetie. I think we'll both have to go up to San Francisco next time and stay there for a while. Then we'll be able to visit Gus every day." "Me, too?" "Maybe. I'm not sure yet." "It must be awful to be in jail." She didn't know the half of it. "I'll tell you all about Gus when I get home. Don't be scared if I'm not with you before bedtime. Just get some sleep and then we'll see if you feel well enough to go to school in the morning." "I had nightmares last night, Mommy. I had to sleep with Grandma I was so afraid. My hands shake sometimes, too, and I can't make them stop." "My poor baby. You were frightened more than any little girl should ever be. I know a good doctor. I'm sure she can cure that nasty shaking. I'll see you soon, Pumpkin. All my kisses. Please put Grandma back on the line." "Eden?" came Barbara's voice. "I'm worried about Evie. I'll have to take her to a child psychologist." "I was going to suggest that." "I know one from college. She's working in Frisco now. She's the best." "Okay." Mom sounded just about as drained as I felt. "Just do whatever you can to keep Evie calm," I said. "It may be best to turn off the news for the rest of the night. She doesn't need any more bad dreams." Most of all, I didn't want her to hear that "Mantra" was dead -- not yet. "Play some cartoon videos until she's ready for bed." "I will," she said distractedly, and then added, "The news is making it sound like the whole of New York's been destroyed and millions are dead." "No, it can't be that bad. The main business district was hardest hit. The first helicopter shots make it look like about a quarter of the metropolitan area was scorched. We'll know more after the search and rescue teams are able to go in by daylight, but there wouldn't have been many people working downtown so late on a Sunday night. The toll is going to be terrible, but not nearly as bad as the early estimates are going to make it sound." "If you say so. But do you think L.A. will be next? Somebody on CBS was saying that the ultras might have done it -- and there's more ultras here than anywhere else." "Nobody knows anything for sure," I replied, "but I don't think it was the ultras. The networks never get these things right. See what talk radio has to say about it in the morning." "I will, darling. Just get home soon. Evie needs you." "I'll try. Bye." "So you don't think ultras are involved?" broke in a strained, but mellow voice. I knew it for Wrath's. I put down the receiver and turned toward the entry. He was wearing civilian attire and a snowy sling supported his right arm. His expression was tight and grim with consternation. "Just an opinion," I said with a sigh. "In cases like this, first impressions are almost always wrong." "A couple days ago I wouldn't have agreed with that, not about ultras anyway. Now I'm not so sure." I forced a smile. "You don't look so bad now that all that blood's washed off. How are you feeling?" "I'm still a high on painkillers and my head's spinning. I got some abrasions and torn ligaments, but over-all it's not that bad. Things could be a lot worse." I knew that they ~could~ have been. But the situation was bad enough. And I had no expectation that they were going to get better. Chapter 13 "Chaos and Conspiracy" "The villain at the gallows tree When he is doomed to die To assuage his misery In Virtue's praise does cry." "What aren't you sure about?" I asked Wrath. He shrugged. "Your debriefing is over?" The big man nodded. "I told Smekes about everything I saw and did. He's hammering on Coburn now." I nodded sympathetically and motioned him to a nearby chair. "Is there anything fresh coming in from New York?" He shook his head. "Smekes there's a possible ID on 'Strike' as one of the perpetrators. He and some others were spotted on the south edge of Central Park. Of what's ~left~ of Central Park." "Is the source reliable?" The spotters who saw them came from an army battalion that's been on duty there ever since the Terrordyne attack on the Statue of Liberty. They'd reached the scene in under ten minutes." ~So that shoe has finally dropped~ I thought. "It's hard to believe that 'Strike could be involved," I said slowly. "For a while we had a lot of reports coming in about him. He's always been wild, but never a criminal or terrorist. But lately there's been nothing. What was he up to last?" "A fight in a cathedral last winter," said Wrath. "He's been laying low for some reason. Some people thought he might have been dead. Now he turns up running with a bad outfit -- mass murderers." This Tunney was obviously no dummy; he was keeping up on things pertinent to his job. My own memory wasn't as foggy as I pretended. Back on my Earth, just before the Godwheel incident, Warstrike had fought an ultra-powered strong-arm man called Blind Faith in the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels. He was whisked off to the Godwheel shortly afterwards and had a mental breakdown while there. Once back on Earth, he went on a long ocean cruise and remained in an inactive funk until I got in touch with him in July. The latter encounter probably hadn't happened in this reality. "All we've got on 'Strike is a sighting to put him in the wrong place at the wrong time, right?" I asked. "Maybe he wasn't a perp; maybe he was just checking things out, just like the soldiers were. And why would one of the good guys go that far wrong? It doesn't figure." "I tell you, lady, the more I get to know the ultras, the less I understand them." I thought it best just to leave it at that, but Tunney wasn't finished yet. "Mrs. -- ~Eden,~ did you ever notice how many ultras are just kids?" Odd question. I regarded the man keenly. "Yes," I replied carefully. "An awful lot of them seem to be." "Can grade-schoolers be part of the 'vast ultra conspiracy,' like the First Lady likes to call it?" I grimaced. "Not very likely. My son was no conspirator. He just thought he was too ugly to be loved and when he got the chance, he started taking it out on everyone around him." "I could say that anyone with too much power is dangerous, but that would include me." "How do you mean?" I asked. I was aware that the original Wrath had ultra strength and agility, along with some fancy wetware upgrading. But also recalled that Lauren had described this guy as having done something very weird. "I can work myself up into a kind of 'berserk' mode," Wrath explained. "It multiplies my strength and the crazier I let myself get, the stronger I become. But I always go nuttier than I want to. All to often I forget what I'm doing and demolish more than just the target." "'Wrath' is the perfect codename for you then," I jested lamely. The smile that Tunney gave back seemed forced. "That may be. You know, Eden, there's always been this theory that the ultras are all part of some master plan. Maybe the Illuminati are behind them, maybe it's the neo-Nazis. The trouble is, whenever I hit the streets as Wrath, I don't run into any of those Nazis-types. Mostly, the ultras are youngsters. What am I supposed to do? Kill wet-behind-the-ears kids or lock them up just because some kind of accident's made them different from the rest of us?" He gave a shudder. "It'll be a long time before I get that girl who died off my mind. I talked to her last Friday and she didn't seem like such a bad kid, just a teenybopper playing dress-up. A girl her age should be ~grounded~ for pulling bone-headed, dangerous stunts, not --." "I can't argue with that!" I put in abruptly, not wanting to him to make me relive Lauren's death. "It's going to be hard to sleep for the next few nights, I'm afraid." "I'm feeling pretty bad myself," I admitted. "I should have let this field agent stuff go hang and stayed behind my CRT. It keeps a person's hands clean." Wrath smiled mirthlessly. "At least you've got some technical skills. I'm just a fighter. That's all I'm good at." I understood his glumness better than he knew. I wanted to tell Tunney that we're all more complex than we seem, better than we believed ourselves to be, but I held back. Wrath and I were probably a lot alike. The thirst for excitement is a powerful addiction. Both of us had hooked up with outfits that helped to bring out the worst in us. When one goes down that road it's hard to come back. At that moment a female staffer poked her head into the lounge and called my name. "Mrs. Blake, Mr. Smekes is waiting to see you now." Well, this was it. I muttered a goodbye to Wrath and followed her out. # For a quarter hour I tried to sound like I was holding nothing back, even while in the act of dodging around the truth. "There's something you're not saying," Smekes suddenly remarked. ~Oops. Maybe the guy wasn't as dumb as he looked.~ "It's that girl's death," I said. "I've got children of my own. I can't help but think about her parents and what this will do to them. Kids grow up knowing that someday they're expected to bury their mom and dad. But when a parent has to bury a child...." I shook my head. "Well, that's...that's something else." "Yes, Eden," he commiserated without making it sound sincere, "I understand that. Both your son and daughter were in grave danger only recently." I nodded, not wanting to take about it with the likes of Smekes. "You had an interesting connection to this short-lived new Mantra, I've discovered." I returned him a curious frown. I had to tough it out. Without Mantra's powers I didn't have a prayer of getting out of the HQ alive if he was determined to arrest me. I could almost see myself in a cell next to Blythe Ashwin with Sarn on the other side of the bars, laying it on hard with the pain button. ~Step One. Feign ignorance.~ "I don't understand, Mr. Smekes." "We've identified her as Lauren Sherwood, a sixteen year old neighbor of yours. She was actually one of your baby sitters. That's very suspicious." ~Step Two is incredulity. Make it look good, Lukasz~ "Lauren? Are you m--? Are you ~serious?"~ "I'm quite serious. And I don't think it's a coincidence that she's been a frequent visitor to your house." ~You don't, huh? I wish to hell you did.~ "What do you mean, sir?" I saw no use in panicking. Nerve is like grease in a tight spot; panic is like sand. "You're an Aladdin agent. Your business is to keep a watchful eye on ultras. We have reason to think that an ultra conspiracy has successfully planted one of its own people inside your home. Their aim was to maintain surveillance on us, the watchers." I blinked. ~ Smekes was living down to my expectations. Step Three was to encourage him to choose the wrong road, or any road at all so long as it doesn't leave me road kill.~ "Lauren was a spy? Are you sure?" "Maybe you can help us become more sure. How did you first meet Lauren Sherwood?" "Well, sir, more than a year ago, my mother hired Kelly Cantrell, a neighborhood girl, to sit with the kids. It worked out and Kelly came over quite often after that. When she got a new job at one of the strip malls she introduced me to a friend of hers from high school. It was Lauren Sherwood, who was interested in getting more sitter work." "And this girl did not appear suspicious?" "I got some references from some other families she'd worked for and she seemed to be a sensible and responsible young person. Her family had loved in our neighborhood for years. I tried her out and both of the kids seemed to like her. She did the job competently and didn't cause any problems." ~Actually, the young lady had gone seriously Dark Side once and nearly killed me, but Smekes didn't need to know about that.~ "I just received some faxes the people we've assigned to check Sherwood out." "Yes, sir?" ~Sheesh!~ Lauren probably hadn't reached room temperature yet and Aladdin was already shifting over her remains. "What have they turned up?" "That she's a very interesting case. For one thing, she's changed physically during the year that passed between her last two yearbook pictures. She hardly looks like the same girl. Didn't you think such a thing was strange?" "Well, of course I did, to a degree. But kids a lot of kids grow up fast and fill out fast. I never got any idea that her friends or teachers were concerned about it, so I just took it in stride. Anyway, I've seen her so often over the last year that any gradual wouldn't be all that apparent." What I told him was mostly the truth, but I hadn't been as unobservant as I'd claimed. Lauren had been plain, flat-chested, and skinny when I'd met her. At the age of fifteen she looked more like thirteen. Now, at sixteen, she'd filled out strikingly. I had never seen a normal kid change so much in such a short time. Now, looking back, I wondered if magic had been responsible. After all, the Prime was able to alter his appearance, as the whole world had found out when he suddenly decided to become 'Rogue Prime,' a stubble-faced biker-type. Before her major empowerment, her innate talent for sorcery might have been working on her in subtle ways. I glanced up attentively; Smekes was still talking. "What you say disappoints me, Mrs. Blake, but it's true that you were not a trained agent back then. Possibly young Sherwood made a deal with the devil." "The devil, sir?" "Figuratively speaking, of course. Isn't it possible that some ultras can bestow beauty, just as others can defy gravity? Such an enticement might make an ugly duckling like Lauren Sherwood fall in with their plans." "Who would ever think that babysitting could pay such -- large dividends?" I remarked. Smekes refrained from smiling, preferring to play the world-wise professional. "Small levers move huge objects, Mrs. Blake. The Nazis destroyed the entire Allied intelligence network in Holland by using just one low-ranked double agent as their tool. A babysitter would make an exceptionally good spy. She'd often be in her target's home -- much of the time alone with the children asleep. You say you liked Miss Sherwood. She no doubt would have tried hard to keep on your good side, just so long as she needed access to your house." "Have you deduced who exactly she was working for, sir?" He didn't take the bait, but instead asked, "What do you know about the girl's parents?" "Not very much, I'm afraid. I think her father is in accounting. He and his wife separated last year. Lauren's always been reluctant to talk about the reason why. "I think her mother is in advertising," I added belatedly. "She kept on living with her father, but, as far as I could see, her relations with her mother are very friendly." Then I had an idea. Telling Smekes something that he'd soon find out regardless would make me look good and it couldn't do additional harm. "Now that you've opened my eyes, sir, I realize that there was something about Lauren that might have been significant." "What is that?" "She was a tremendous fan of Mantra." He silently chewed on that crumb for a few seconds. "It fits. She was calling herself 'Mantra' when overhead at the Mall Friday night. According to Tunney, by that time your daughter knew of her as Mantra, too. It can't be a coincidence that Lauren Sherwood should step into the original Mantra's shoes only a month after we captured her heroine. Would she have done that if she didn't know that the real Mantra was our prisoner? No doubt her sources of information are excellent. I'm starting to wonder if the Sherwoods were her real parents and whether Lauren wasn't actually related to Mantra -- maybe even her daughter." "I wouldn't know about that," I said. "As for Mantra fan activity in Canoga Park, I know of a registered club with four steady members." "Did Lauren belong?" "No. I take it she didn't get along with the other girls." "An alienated loner? A troubled, anti-social type?" "Not that I noticed. She just seemed to be more reserved and studious than most girls her age." ~I was prettying up the picture. When I first met Lauren she was a bookish nerd with few friends other than Kelly.~ Smekes spent the next couple of minutes typing something into his keyboard. Then he looked up, triumph writ large in his smirk. "I just searched our data base for the name 'Kelly Cantrell.' It seems that she's been observed in contact with the ultra Prime. That's not something typical of girls her age. I'm going to have her put under observation. Her movements and communications may lead us to a whole nest of ultra conspirators." A nice, ordinary high school girl like Kelly was in our database? For a long time my frame of reference had been the Middle Ages. But now, at the end of the Twentieth Century, computers had wiped out most people's privacy. That made me sorry that I'd been forced to bring up Kelly's name. Aladdin could play rough even with children, Gus being a case in point. Kelly might soon be taken into custody for questioning. Did she know anything that could compromise Prime? Infatuated teenaged boys could be so indiscreet. "It's interesting that you should mention Mantra," Smekes said. "We've received reports that Prime has had some sort of association with our prisoner -- as does the mercenary ultra 'Strike. At one occasion, all three of them were observed acting together against the Company's interests. 'Strike has been implicated in the New York disaster and it makes one wonder whether Prime's might not be involved also, even if behind the scenes." Pretty soon every ultra not already in prison would be on Aladdin's suspect list for destroying downtown New York. "But let's stick to the matter at hand," the director hurried on. "It's possible that Kelly was spying on you with Prime as her contact. She could have been nudged aside when young Sherwood was sent in to take her place. As a powerful ultra, Sherwood would have been much better suited to the role. Whether Miss Cantrell is still associated with conspirators remains to be discovered. Who knows? She might turn out to be an ultra herself." ~Ohhh, this whole thing was spiraling out of control.~ Smekes made a show of looking over his shoulder. "We'll have to proceed cautiously. "The ultras have already infiltrated Aladdin itself with Blythe Ashwin. She might not be the only one." He frowned thoughtfully. "We'll have to find out if Ashwin has information about other ultras breaching Aladdin security. It now looks like might not have been working alone." ~My heart sank. I hated the idea of anyone, even Blythe Ashwin, getting tortured by paranoids chasing phantoms.~ "What do we have that's solid so far, sir? That Prime might be some sort of espionage ringleader?" I was repackaging Smeke's own words and shoveling them back at him. Though making myself sound like a kindred spirit might get me somewhere, I was of two minds about encouraging Smekes in his fantasies. It might make trouble for Kevin Green down the road. "That's hard to say. We'll have to carefully consider that possibility." "I don't think Lauren or Kelly could have found anything in my house that would be helpful to an enemy," I said. "I've always been scrupulous about security." "Might you have let anything slip to your son or daughter, or your mother?" I shook my head. "They all think that I work for the CIA and I've always refused to answer questions about work. I know the manual." "That goes for your brothers and your personal friends, too?" "Yes. I'm good at keeping secrets." "Very commendable." The words were intended to sound reassuring, but his tone spoiled the effect. At that point Smekes abruptly stopped speaking. His expressionless eyes remained fixed on me and I recognized his change of manner as an old interrogator's trick, having met plenty of old interrogators. He wanted to make me sweat, to make me think that I had somehow aroused his suspicions. Under pressure a person might babble out some incriminating reference. The poor fellow must have been reading too many company manuals. I didn't react at all. He waited until, presumably, he started to feel silly and then said, "I'm putting some additional people into Canoga Park to turn up what they can about Sherwood. You'd be of great assistance, considering it's your own back yard." ~"Ahh,~ sir," I said hesitatingly, "working on the Sherwood matter would create a problem for me. I was thinking about closing my house and asking HQ for a transfer to San Francisco. My son is being held at Alcatraz and I want to be able to visit him as often as possible." He frowned. "You've talked this over with Sarn?" "Not yet. I saw her only briefly, and that was before it had become clear what exactly the situation was. The time we spent together almost entirely devoted to planning the deployment of NM-E." He nodded. "I see. Well, your wish is an understandable one. Dr. Sarn intends to stay in San Francisco for some while. She engaged in an important project that's best carried out in our facilities there. I know that the two of you have worked closely ever since your Spear of Destiny coup. If the doctor signs off on your transfer, well and good." He stood up and extended his hand. I rose and accepted the shake. "I was wondering, sir." "Yes?" "What will the public be told? Will Lauren Sherwood be buried as an ultra, or as some local girl who accidentally got killed during a random outbreak of violence?" "That hasn't been decided," he replied soberly. "I would prefer the latter. If all goes well, in a month no one will remember that there'd ever been a 'new Mantra'." "Yes, sir, and calling the death an accident might make things easier for her parents, too. If they think their daughter died because of a simple accident, her loss might be easier to bear." "Oh, yes, her parents," Smekes said absently. "We certainly mustn't make things unnecessarily hard on America's bedrock." I felt immensely relieved to have the interview over. A little of Smekes goes a long way. # Once in the outer corridor, I leaned back against the wall, my eyes closed. I'm a hard case, usually, but what I'd been going through over the last few days had worn me down. Gus was suffering. I had failed to protect Lauren Sherwood and had done nothing to prevent Prime, Warstrike -- excuse me -- 'Strike -- and Kelly Cantrell from looming large on Aladdin's radar. Also, I'd come across as being na?ve about Kelly and Lauren. But, damn it, Smekes was wrong about them in almost every particular! Suddenly someone rushed past my alcove in a flash blue -- traveling ~backwards.~ To my dismay, I realized that it was no speeding ultra -- just an ordinary a man in a business suit. Time was going unhinged again! The hall was suddenly a beehive of activity, every motion wildly accelerated. I saw Coburn and then Wrath dash in the direction of Smeke's office -- in retrograde -- and then come out again, still retrograde. After that things started happening too quickly for the eye to follow. I covered my face and awaited my fate. Whatever power had me in its grip was about to would move me across the chessboard again. How had this started? Why did it keep happening? And how long could I stay sane living this way...? Chapter 14 "The Night of Terror" "Alas for woe, alas for woe, alas for woe, They cry and tears forever flow." When the world finally stopped spinning, I found myself leaning against a kitchen counter. ~And it happened to be my own kitchen counter.~ Feeling unsteady, I braced my weight against a cabinet and stared out the window. It was definitely sunset, but the sky appeared off-color. The trees and houses looked strange, too, as they often do when the heavens darken with storm. I shook myself hard, trying to banish my bleariness. What was the date and how much time had I gained -- or lost? I shifted unsteadily towards the calendar, which, under a Norman Rockwell schoolhouse painting, showed the month of September. That didn't tell me a lot. ~Wake up, Lukasz.~ The kitchen clock had a digital date as well as the time of day and read 7:16 p.m., September 15. I frowned. The date meant something, but.... Then it hit me -- ~like a ballista bolt!~ ~"Mommy!"~ Evie's shrill cry had echoed from the hall. I dashed into the living room. Seeing the corridor to the bedrooms empty, I started toward Evie's room. After only two strides, I stumbled to a halt. ~Idiot! This is the Night of Terror!~ My heart leaped to my throat. Could it -- the terrible thing -- have happened already? Without a pause for thought, I projected my wizard- sense into the darkened wing and it returned a mystic impression like a hot puff of dragon breath. Something as psychically prickly as a sea urchin and as vast as a whale was permeating every corner of my surroundings. I felt like I'd gotten a foul whiff of Boneyard's overpowering miasma, only this manifestation came across as much stronger. I'd encountered nothing exactly like it, other than the time I'd confronted Loki, the Norse god of evil, in the dead city of Vahdala. ~Just a cotton-picking minute!~ I had actually been using magic. That meant -- In the wink of the eye I was wearing my golden armor! Whatever had robbed Mantra of her magical powers in the alternate future that I'd just returned from hadn't occurred here -- not yet. ~Move it, Lukasz! Your and Evie's lives hang on a thread!~ Gus was lurking in his room, expecting me to come in. He would be feeling nothing for me except hate and fury -- and he was wielding the power of a demigod to work out his pique. I cursed under my breath. Why couldn't I have jumped just ten minutes farther back? That would have given me time enough to get my head on straight and whisk both Gus and Evie away from our accursed house. Now Evie had become Gus's virtual hostage, and Gus was willing to kill to get his own way. I had to stop the boy from injuring anyone, but the direct approach wouldn't work. With his power at its peak, he could eat me for lunch. But neither did I dare be passive, not with Gus posing such danger to the neighborhood. I had changed history before, so why couldn't I change it again? This time, though, I knew the hazards of tampering and would be a damned side more wary! I couldn't stay where I was. If Gus got tired of lying in wait and came after me, history might repeat itself. If we fought, it had to be on my terms. For now, though, wisdom called for retreat. Reluctantly turning phantom, I darted away through the roof. ~Forgive me, Evie.~ # In the open air, I hovered indecisively. Gus didn't hate his sister, I knew, and that meant she wasn't in immediate danger. How tempting it was to teleport the little girl to my side, but such heavy usage of my manna would have left me helpless for hours. Gus was bound to come looking for his missing mother and sibling, and so I had to conserve my store of magic for the ultimate confrontation. Determined to keep an eye on the Blake house, I made for the tallest structure at hand, the Lutheran Church on Jordan. I summoned a warm updraft of late summer air and a gentle geyser bobbed my nearly weightless body all the way up to the lofty steeple. The ledge there was narrow, but I gripped an ornamental angel that afforded me just enough purchase to prevent my falling. The Blake house, a few blocks away, remained quiet. Even as I clung to the concrete decoration, I clung also to the dogged hope that I wasn't helpless. I possessed the means and the knowledge to change the course of events. True enough, Lauren had died because I'd interfered with what had been a delicate, established flow, but I saw no alternative but to try and help. The disorientation from my last time-shift was fading and it was becoming easier to focus. If chrono-jumping was going to get harder each time I did it, it wouldn't take many more shifts to reduce me to a basket case. I hoped that wouldn't happen before I got home -- if I ever ~could~ get home. While trying to formulate a plan, I gazed upwards. The sky still looked odd. It had taken on a faintly glowing, raw-liver hue and, here and there, I saw rippling patches. These reminded me of nothing so much as the Aurora Borealis, but then, even as I stared, a humongous green streak began to congeal above Canoga Park like a ghost materializing. It was the same streak that Lauren had mentioned. I suddenly realized that I was unconsciously using my wizard-sight. To ordinary people the phenomenon would probably stay invisible. That meant that the energy band possessed some sort of magical component. Well, no surprise there. But it made my hair prickle to see one end of it undulating above our rooftop like a pit viper, while the rest of it arched away, off in a direction that I knew would lead to Heather Parks' home. Poor Heather! Coven, the four-faced monster, must come into being at the same instant that Gus had been changed. Now, though, with Lauren gone, it was up to me to deal with Coven. And, after that, there would be Necromantra to tackle. Following that... Wait a minute! Lauren wasn't dead. She ~couldn't~ be. By slipping back into time, I had brought her back to life -- at least from my perspective. And wouldn't the same thing be true of the thousands of strangers fated to die in New York City just two nights hence? Though I didn't understand it, Lauren's fate just then seemed more important. I had, in fact, an overriding responsibility to help her. The Eden of this world had invited her over and exposed her to danger. I hadn't seen anyone come at the Blake's door so far. I had to locate her and warn her before it was too late. Otherwise Gus would turn his full fury against her and this time she would find no sanctuary inside my cloak-castle! She'd die before her powers could jump-start. I sprang into the air, desperately scanning the sidewalks below. For once Fate appeared to smile. I spotted Lauren's tow-haired figure below, strolling along Wyandotte Street, a solitary shape under the lampposts that were only now just turning on with the dusk. The babysitter must have heard my cloak fluttering above her head, for she suddenly looked up at me, wide-eyed. ~"Mantra!"~ the girl exclaimed. My heels hit the pavement hard and, while struggling for balance, I breathlessly muttered: "Lauren, you shouldn't be out tonight! Some kind of wild magic is loose. Go home. You'll be safer there." "Whoa!" the girl fired back. "The Blake house is just a couple of blocks ahead. Can't I pick up my wages first?" "You're wages aren't important, not when your life's at stake! I wish I could bodyguard you, but there are too many other things for me to do, and too many other people to help. Now, vamoose!" "But Mrs. Blake is expecting me. Maybe I could help her protect the kids." "Eden has enough problems! Another kid to worry about is the last thing she needs. Do her a favor and go home! Your own dad might need protecting, if things get really bad." I didn't think that was true, but hoped that the warning would make her more cooperative. "Okay," she grimaced, "I'll go home, but I'll call Eden up and tell her just what you just told me. I'll tell her to lock up and hunker down." I couldn't let her do that. Gus would probably answer the phone and urge to come over. And if I knew Lauren, she'd do it. Gus's motivation might be just a simple wish to impress her, but when she rejected him he'd explode. "Listen, Lauren, you shouldn't be on the phone tonight. Ah...there's some kind of evil energy in the air and it might infect the telephone lines. You and Mrs. Blake could get cursed!" ~Oh, Lordy, did that sound as dumb to her as it did to me?~ Apparently so. Lauren returned a funny look. "Uh, Mantra, I've got a feeling that there's more, or maybe less, going on around here than you're telling me." "No more time for arguing, young lady. You're heading home!" I scooped Lauren up into my arms and sprang into the air. Though I fly by a complex method -- one that combines magical levitation with elemental control of the air currents -- the ascent was a rapid one. The girl's surprise stifled all thought of questions and protests. That was to the good, but sterner measures were called for. I had to make sure that the adventurous and inquisitive adolescent would stay out of harm's way for the entire the night. Consequently, while holding the teen close, I started siphoning away a portion of her bio-energy. And I got more than I bargained for! I'd never had a transfusion like that since I'd tapped into Prime himself. Lauren was a potential ultra, no mistaking that! The energy was building and the moment of her magical empowerment had to be very soon. But I wouldn't let it happen tonight. There were terrible dangers abroad and it was my responsibility to deal with them, not hers. By the time we'd alighted beside the Sherwoods' welcome mat, the girl was nodding off like a vampire's victim drained of blood. She would probably sleep for a dozen hours. I rang the doorbell and then took off to avoid being seen. I didn't dare to be recognized as Mantra, not while Aladdin had locked Blythe Ashwin away. A departing glance assured me that Mr. Sherwood was helping his rubbery-legged daughter across the threshold. From her weak and sleepy condition, he'd probably surmise that she was coming down with the flu. Had I changed history enough to save Lauren's life? I hoped so. She'd proven what a fine ultra she'd make. But no schoolgirl was ready to shoulder responsibilities of a super-heroic size. They could send her to an early grave, as they actually had in an alternate future. # At this point my plan called for me to do just what Lauren had done in that other reality. I would bring Gus and Coven together and hope that they would knock each other out. But what then? Heather and the girls would, presumably, regain their separate identities, but the curse would still be fast upon Gus. How would I control him over a period of months while Pinnacle set up her cloning operation? I didn't have Aladdin's brutal technology or their indifference to the boy's suffering. But neither was I entirely without resources. I knew several powerful ultras of various talents. But which of them should I contact? There was Pinnacle, for one, but she was an emotional wreck would need hours of tender loving care just to sober up. Besides that, she lived in San Francisco. Prime came next to mind. He was the strongest of all the good-guy heroes and had already bested an impressive array of enemies. If I summoned him by telepathy, he'd be able to cross the country at hyper speed. Unfortunately, I knew that Prime would have been rendered deranged, undoubtedly a side effect of the Night of Terror. I already had one juvenile running amuck and hardly needed another. Who else was there? Warstrike? Or, more correctly, 'Strike? Brandon Tark was both cunning and fearless. Moreover, he was a good tactician. Although physically no match for Prime, he had a superior technological support system, as well as innate psychic ability. There was a good chance that this world's 'Strike had access to equipment that could keep Gus confined until Pinnacle was ready for him. On the other hand, 'Strike was soon to be implicated in a heinous act of terrorism. Was he really like the man I knew? I had to take that chance. In the best-case scenario, I might be able to head off the trouble he might otherwise get involved in on Sunday night. ~But I'd need a lot more backup than just 'Strike.~ The original Wrath, a.k.a. Thomas Hunter, also hadn't been a slouch when fighting rogue ultras either. I would have liked to summon him, but he'd vanished into private life without leaving me a forwarding address. The man wasn't even showing up in the Aladdin database lately -- probably because he was trying not to. A telepathic summons would not be possible since we'd never traded energies, and to make things all the harder, he seemed to have no psychic talent. ~And you'll be needing magic even more than muscle, Lukasz.~ I personally knew two magic-users whom I could appeal to. One was Shadowmage, the alien girl from the Godwheel. She was a mercenary with team called The Solution, but the squad had dissolved after it's leader, Lela Cho, had taken back the family company from the gangsters who had seized it. I just hoped that Shadowmage hadn't gone back home, through one of the gate links leading to the Godwheel. The other magic-user that I'd worked with was Yrial, the Native American sorceress who had associated herself with the Strangers. If I had my druthers, I'd have brought in the whole team, except that were going to be off in Pasadena tonight fighting zombies. My best hope was that I could persuade Yrial to split off from the rest of her capable buddies and help me. But I was racing ahead of myself. Before I did anything else, I had to reassure Evie. The tyke didn't know where I was and had to be terrified. Touching down behind some screening bushes along Heather Parks' street, I tuned into my daughter mentally. A moment later there came a response: ~"Mommy? Where are you?"~ "Evie, darling. I'm -- I'm outside the house. Are you all right?" ~"How can you be talking inside my head?"~ "It's a secret ultra power I have, honey. But ~shhh!~ Don't say anything out loud. Just think hard and I'll be able to hear you. We have to be careful that Gus can't listen in. Do you see him? Does he know that we're talking?" ~"I don't think so. He's been yelling about how he's gonna smash everybody who was ever mean to him. He's even mad at you and Daddy, and Mantra --"~ "Hush, Evie, don't think about Mantra, not until we're sure that Gus can't hear us." It was possible that the boy might pick up this sort of sending, considering his nearness to Evie and the monstrous scope of his abilities. ~"Mommy, I'm afraid that Gus is gonna remember all the tricks I played on him an'll wanna smash me, too."~ "You have to be very brave, Pumpkin. Something bad has given Gus the worst sort of magic. It makes him wild and he's gotten so powerful that I don't dare fight with him just yet. What I'm going to do instead is call in some good people to help us. Then we'll be able to catch Gus without hurting him. " ~"What should I do?~ "Try to be as friendly to your brother as you can. Don't tell him he's bad and don't scold him for anything he says or does. He's not thinking clearly and if he gets excited he might hurt you before he knows what he's done." ~"Mommy, can you see us? You sound like you know just what's happened to Gus."~ "I can't explain now, Sweetheart. But I promise to come and rescue you just as soon as I can." ~"Mommy! Don't talk!"~ And then our mind-link broke off. # What had happened? I feared the worst, but resolved to follow though with my plan. I touched my gloved fingers to my brow and concentrated. ~"Brandon, this is Mantra. Can you hear me?"~ I repeated this call several times. I was beginning to get anxious when a familiar voice came over my ethereal walky-talky: ~"What? Mantra?"~ "Brandon? That's you, isn't it?" ~"Sure it is, Eden. Sorry. You woke me up. Jet lag. I was buying art in Europe. When you called I was having a nightmare... something about New York City. It's good to know you're still up and about. It's been a long time since the Godwheel, hasn't it?"~ Brandon, something important has come up! ~"I guessed that. You wouldn't be calling me at such an ungodly hour. It must be -- oh, it's only seven-thirty. Well, lay it on me, beautiful. What are you and Luke up to?"~ I hesitated. 'Strike was making the same mistake that Warstrike had made back in my own world. He didn't know that Eden had died, or that I was once more in possession of her magic-channeling body. "Brandon, this is ~Lukasz.~ I'm Mantra again. Necromantra murdered Eden last January. There's no time for details." ~"How did that bitch claw her way back from the dead?"~ He stopped himself, ~ "Sorry. Give me the scoop. What's happening?"~ "A total disaster! Both my kids are in danger. I need your help." Then that old devil, Suspicion, tapped me on the shoulder. "Are you well, Brandon? Did you get through that nervous breakdown okay?" ~"Sure, Luke, except that I've been pretty much a burnout. I haven't been mixing with my old crowd at all and haven't even wanted to climb back into that crazy costume. But if you're in trouble --"~ "It's trouble in spades, Tark. Listen! Can you help me cage a magician who's at least twice as powerful as me, and do it without causing him any real injury?" ~"What magician? Is Boneyard back?~ In the screwy world that Tark and I occupy, one could never be sure that the dead would stay dead. Even Eden Blake had once come back from the Great Beyond. "No, I'm up against someone a lot stronger than old Tall-Gray-And- Ugly." ~"That's a scary thought. Exactly where are you?"~ "Canoga Park. I'm about half a mile from my house --" Before I could finish explaining, I heard something. It sounded like a telepathic a cry of pain. "Tark! What's wrong?! Come on, man, talk to me!" He started projecting again, but only fitfully. ~"I- I just went on the wire again. Since the Godwheel I've been doing that sometimes, seeing the future without trying to. I d-don't even need an adrenaline rush to turn it on!"~ "So what did you see?" ~"New York again. It's about to be blasted!"~ "Keep calm, guy. I've seen that future, too." ~"Don't joke! This is serious."~ "I'm not joking, Warstrike. I've been experiencing future events, up through next Thursday at least. A lot of New York is going to down. Thousands will die, but you have to keep clear of it. I've foreseen that if you show up in NYC on Sunday night, you're going to be blamed for causing the damage, along with another group of ultras that you'll be mingled with for some reason. One of them will be Amber Hunt." I expected a bellow of surprise, but, instead, Tark's tone switched to hard and wary. ~"My name isn't Warstrike. And since when can Mantra see the future?"~ "I'm not an imposter and this isn't a trick. I didn't want to go into long explanations, but some power's gotten its hold on me. I'm being dragged between different timelines and alternate dimensions every couple days. In another world you were called Warstrike." I hoped that this edited version of the truth would suffice to ward off his suspicions. Time was short. ~"That sounds too nutso to be anything but true, Luke. Is there any way I can help?~ "The biggest help I need right now is in saving Evie and Gus. We'll handle everything else later." ~"As soon as you mentioned Amber Hunt I remembered seeing her in my vision. Are you sure you need me? If Amber Hunt's really setting her sights on the Big Apple, maybe I can stop the blast by heading her off."~ "I don't think that's in the cards, Brandon. But, look, if you'll help me, I'll help you. New York will be safe until Sunday night. Maybe by then we'll be able to bring in the Strangers, too. Right now I've got a familial crisis. I don't want to lose the kids the same way you lost Jamie." I felt his surprise. ~"I -- I didn't know you knew about Jamie."~ "You never told me, but I found out about her from Warstrike. He had a Jamie, too." Tark paused just a moment before he asked, ~"Is your problem something we can handle quickly?" ~ "I don't know. But I ~do~ know that it's probably too big for just the two of us. We'll need magic, if possible. When I leave you I'm going to try to contact Yrial and Shadowmage. Do you know of anyone else who's available at short notice?" ~"Not a sorcerer, unfortunately. But Hardcase called me up last week. He used that contact number that I've been keeping out there for public referral. Now that he's washed his hands of UltraForce, Hardcase wants to form a new super team, one that doesn't lick Aladdin's boots. He was in the L.A. area when he called and I know how to get back to him."~ "Great! Hardcase is one of the best. If we put together a squad powerful enough -- the person in question -- might give up without a fight." ~"Why not knock him around a little first? He has to be an S.O.B. if he's threatening your kids."~ "It's not so simple, Brandon. We're talking about Gus." ~"Gus?"~ "Dark magic has a hold on him and he can't control himself." ~"You're up against your own ex-husband?"~ "No. It's worse than that. I'm up against...~my own son."~ Chapter 15 "The House of the Coven" "Sweet smiles in the night, Hover over my delight. Sweet smiles Mother smiles All the livelong night beguiles." I'd been sending out mental summons to Shadowmage for at least two minutes, but to no avail. The more I use telepathy, the easier it becomes to tell a "dead line" from an unanswered "ringing phone" and Shadowmage definitely seemed to be outside my service area. Angry at myself for wasting so much time, I switched my appeal toward another sorceress. "Yrial! This is Mantra. Can you hear me?" After about thirty seconds, and to my intense relief, my appeal was answered. ~"Mantra? Is it you? I didn't know that you possessed suc