No Sorrow Like Separation (The Commander Book 5) (41 page)

Ah hah!  This was the secret to dealing with Crows.  Now that I understood the secret, I doubted I would ever have to worry again about panicking Crows by accident.

I sighed.  “I get so wrapped up in seeing everything as weapons and dangers I forget Transform Sickness amplifies the whole lot of our existence, the good with the bad.”

“The Crows are the opposite,” Hephaestus said.  He was a muscular man, about my height, with long black hair in a ponytail.  “Most of us would rather think of the beautiful or the philosophical than worry about weapons and dangers.  The Crow instinct is to run away from danger or ignore it.”

A bit of Zielinski here would help Hephaestus immensely.  “All Major Transforms have the choice not to follow their Transform-based instincts.  Your instincts make good reflex actions, for situations where reflex actions are needed.  They don’t need to do your thinking for you in all situations.”

Hephaestus’s eyes opened wide in surprise.  “Ma’am.”  He bowed, honoring my wisdom.

“I can’t take credit for this bit of philosophy.  A normal who I work with” own, at least from my Arm perspective; the more I learned the more I suspected that from Zielinski’s perspective he owned me “a Dr. Henry Zielinski, taught this to me, and I’ve found his advice useful on many occasions.”

“Ah, the Good Doctor,” Hephaestus said.  His voice held a smile; he had visited Hank in Austin, and I didn’t react when I realized that Zielinski had already won him over.  I was getting better at my non-reactions.  Zielinski was always good for these sorts of little surprises.

“If I may be so bold, mademoiselle Arm, might I suggest that many in this moot may consider access to the Good Doctor worth as much if not more than your earlier gift.”  Sky.  I heard quite a few whispered mutters of agreement in the distance.

All Crows hated all doctors and researchers, until one Crow decides to pal up with one, as Sky did.  Poof!  Now, all the Crows liked the person.  They also preferred be up front about dealing with him rather than going behind my back.  Probably too stressful for them.

Crows were strange.  I certainly had to think about the ramifications of these tidbits of information.

“My friend Zielinski is quite willing to meet and talk with any of you, and I have no desire to restrict Crow access to him.”  I would if he asked or Keaton ordered me to, so my comment wasn’t a lie.  “However, he didn’t get to be the Good Doctor by operating blindly; he’ll want payment in information and tests.”

“Your requirement should be no problem at all,” Hephaestus said, further illuminating the strange psychology of Crows.  “Ma’am, if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to introduce to you the Crow Nameless.  He invited himself here and I can vouch for his good intentions.”

Meaning he wasn’t a Guru or impressively powerful.  “I’d be glad to meet him.”  Nameless, though?  His name said a lot about this Crow, whoever he was.

The Crow Nameless stepped forward.  Unlike Hephaestus, who was a non-descript Crow of perhaps mixed Latino heritage, Nameless was not a Crow who would blend in with a crowd.  He was a short very black man, five three, portly, with close-cropped frizzy black hair.

“I am Nameless, and I follow an old Crow path not linked to power.  I’m a mystic.”  Nameless spoke with a muted Jamaican accent with a Canadian lilt added in.

“What can I do for you, Nameless?” I said.

“All I ask is that you accept me into your information gathering corps,” he said.  “The Focus you are calling Rogue Focus is an abomination, who if not checked could grow into as large a national threat as your other enemy, Rogue Crow.  She already possesses suborned Focuses in New Orleans and Pensacola, which drew the attention of one of the many Gurus who advise me, Guru Snow.  Although Guru Snow has issues with the elder Arm, he advised me that helping you in this cause would not be inappropriate.”

Translated: I’m Guru Snow’s spy and my Crow friends would rather see you rot in Hell, but although they think Keaton’s as large a danger as Rogue Focus they’re willing to test your word and your actions with me, a Crow who’s relatively young and disposable.  This was the first hard edge I had seen from the hidden Crow leadership; I suspected Snow was one of the six senior Crows on the list of possible Rogue Crows.

As far as hard edges went, this one wasn’t bad, as long as Nameless wasn’t going to turn his coat in the middle of the fight.  I didn’t think he had it in him, though.  A proper Crow coward, this one; he wouldn’t have ever approached me without Hephaestus’s cover.  He also gave me new information about Rogue Focus.

“I gladly accept your offer,” I said.  “I understand I’m daunting to face, but if you come up with any other advice, mystical or otherwise, I would appreciate it if you passed your information along to the other Crows, so they could pass it along to me.”

Nameless bowed and took a couple of steps back.

Two other Crows walked forward out of the shelter of the trees, Sinclair and another Crow, a six-two brown skinned young man with his head shaved bald.

“Sinclair,” I said.  I liked Sinclair, mostly because he was the first Crow I had met who was naturally grumpy and cutting, someone who had to put work into curbing his temper.  I sympathized a lot.  “Glad you could make it.”  As if he wouldn’t.  I already knew, from talking to him when I handed over the Chimera, that this was personal for him.  He had been Gilgamesh’s companion in Philadelphia and anything that helped me, a known enemy of Rogue Crow and the Hunters, was for the better.  Although just a little older than Gilgamesh as a Crow, his skills were different.  He was an animal master, enough so that when he approached, the mosquitoes vanished (I was jealous).  Gilgamesh thought Sinclair would soon join Occum as a Beast Master.  I wished him all the luck in the world.

“Arm Hancock, I’d like to introduce to you the Crow Midgard.”

Oh ho.  I took a moment to pay close attention to the Crow who had ‘dibs’ on Keaton’s baby Arm.  Yes, the panic ruled him less than the other Crows.  From Gilgamesh, I knew that Midgard had transformed a year before Gilgamesh.  All I picked up on was, like Gilgamesh, he carried a small backpack filled with dross rotten eggs.

I also learned from this that Sinclair used the Focus pleasantries, which meant he in some fashion dealt with Focuses.  Which one, or ones, though?

“Crow Midgard.  I’m glad to meet you.  You and Gilgamesh have had quite a few adventures over the years, haven’t you?”

Midgard nodded.  “I’m…”  He paused.  “I’m honored to meet you and flattered you know of me.  I’m just a wandering Crow, willing to lend a hand when needed.  I have some news you might wish to learn.”

“I’d be glad to listen.”

“Wandering Shade, who if Gilgamesh’s suppositions are correct is also Rogue Crow, deals with at least three Beast Man groups, each with different personalities.  The oldest group, the Mountain Men of the mountains west and north of Denver and Salt Lake City, are the strongest as individuals but they cannot work together at all.  There are at least five of them, but the older three cannot talk.  The second oldest group, the Patriarchs, are centered in and around Kansas City.  They are currently fewest in number and although intelligent and best able to integrate themselves into the normal world, they suffer from severe psychological problems, I believe caused by repression of their primal predatory natures.  I believe only one mature Patriarch is left at this time.  The Hunters, your enemies, are the newest and fastest growing group.  The three established mature Hunters are shepherding at least five other Hunters on their way to maturity.  They scour this country and Canada for recently transformed Beast Men to recruit; it’s a miracle they didn’t grab the Houston Beast Man before you subdued him and sent him off to Occum.”

I nodded.  “Thank you.  I have not forgotten Rogue Crow.”  Not even slightly.  “What we are doing here in Houston is quite important, as far as opposition to Rogue Crow goes.  If we learn to cooperate as Major Transforms we stand a far better chance of defeating him and his Hunters.”

Midgard nodded.  “The Cause illuminates us all,” he said, surprising me.  He, too, had fallen for Lori.  What was her secret?  If we could bottle and sell it, it would revolutionize the romance industry, at least at the street level.  “I speak on the Cause as I travel, and although few choose to listen at least the Cause is becoming known.”

“Glad to have you on board, then.”  I gave him a big smile.

No other Crows stepped forward.  Sky and Newton held back, nice and safe, but I included them in my short course on signaling.  This had gone well.

I had thought I was happy until I saw Gilgamesh.  He bounced.  To him, this was his biggest success, and he was definitely full of it now.

I got happier.

Chapter 12

Transform Authorities Deny Rumors

The CDC’s Transform Response Team denied reports today of a growing threat by Male Monsters in the Chicagoland area.  “As of today there have been no fully verified sightings of any Male Monsters in the Chicago area, as have been verified in the Minneapolis area.  The rumors and hysteria these rumors have caused are entirely without merit.”

“Hunter Activity Near Chicago and Media Responses”

Gilgamesh: July 20, 1968

Gilgamesh fought nerves, panic, fear and half a dozen Crow-ish worrisome emotions he didn’t even have names for.  Sky echoed him, a mile distant, from his position atop a recently constructed medical professional building.  Luckily Hephaestus, haunting the park-like grounds of Rice University with his students, treated this adventure as purely business, and his steadiness buoyed the other Crows who hid and watched.  Despite his wonderful piece of dross art based on Lori, he hadn’t forged a true emotional connection with the Focus.

The connection with Lori was why he and Sky had the super-willies.  Lori was here with fifteen of her best combatant household members (twelve Transforms, three normals), pregnant, pissed at life because one of the ruling first Focuses had exposed six of her household members as Transforms and cost Inferno four more jobs, and staggering under the weight of the political machinations she and Focus Ackerman were arranging for the Rogue Focus job.  He ached to go comfort Lori, as did Sky, but duty called.  The Focus contingent and their people were not supposed to be here in Houston long enough to attract attention.  Tiamat called them ‘blocking forces’ and ‘emergency reserves’, although the two Focuses were responsible for an important piece of Tiamat’s attack: their job was to convince the two Transform Clinic Focuses and their Transforms to stay in the Transform Clinic.

Carol had him, along with Frances, stationed on the flat gravel roof of the Houston Museum of Fine Arts, nicely situated to be the information headquarters for the attack.  Frances was Crow nervous, not only because she had never been involved in anything like this before, but because of how Tiamat had transported her here, sack of potatoes fashion, up the side of the museum building.  They had everything they could possibly need, including firearms (Tiamat had spent time teaching Frances firearm basics, just in case), walkie-talkies, extra batteries, maps, and typed up contingency plans.  Gilgamesh had arranged it all in neat rows, ready and accessible for when the fighting started.

Kali’s rampage, which would set the older Arm up for years as far as money was concerned, had worked as a distraction.  Only two Feds remained in the Fed safe house, most likely the two CIA operatives. Sky and Tiamat had studied them often enough to convince themselves the two were non-combatants.  They were no threat.

Gilgamesh wiped sweat from his forehead, the result of stress and the Houston evening heat and humidity.  At least the omnipresent mosquitos rarely ventured all the way up here on the roof.  The waning moon provided barely enough light to see, and he looked over the edge of the roof as two miles away to the southwest Tiamat’s sixty expendable troops, led by four of her real recruits, piled out of vehicles and surrounded Rogue Focus’s complex.  Tiamat cut off phone service to the Focus’s house and the mission was on.

Lori, Focus Ackerman and their people, which included Transforms from several other New England households, parked just outside of the South Main Transform Clinic and walked in the front door.  From earlier discussions, he knew both of the non-Houston Focuses wore well-crafted disguises, as did most of their household members and borrowed Transforms.  The invaders spread out after they entered the Clinic, jogging over to the dorms where the Clinic Focuses and their people lived.  The Boston Focuses and their people started to jaw with the Clinic Focuses; neither Clinic Focus was able to get her people out of their dorms.  As Tiamat had hoped for, Lori’s crew swiftly neutralized these two Focuses.

As Lori and Focus Ackerman did their thing, Rogue Focus’s people exited the three buildings they lived in and took up positions around the main house.  They knew what they were doing and had cover pre-arranged, including four foxholes they maintained for emergencies like this.

Tiamat had scouted the foxholes beforehand and she rushed one of the positions, all by herself.  Her plan was to clear it so her troops could push their way into the Focus’s house.  Only she didn’t make it.  Mid-leap, she grabbed at her head and fell just outside the fence marking the edge of Rogue Focus’s property.  She scrabbled away, dodging.  No gunfire yet, though.

“Uh oh,” Gilgamesh heard from Sky over his walkie-talkie.  “I’ve got one, two, no five cars and trucks filled with normals coming.  I think…yes, they’re here for the fight.”

Gilgamesh passed word via his other walkie-talkies.  Tiamat had been right.  She had predicted there would be at least one big surprise.  He couldn’t reach Tiamat on the walkie-talkie, though, a big problem.

Normals.  They hadn’t even considered the idea that Rogue Focus might have recruited normals to help her.  They had seen nothing to indicate she had any outside contact with any normals beyond her police department contacts.

Crap.  Gilgamesh hoped the whole plan hadn’t just been flushed down the toilet.

“I’m going in,” Sky said, his emotions now roiled and fierce.  “Marde!”  His voice clicked and buzzed, and then cut out.

Well, this was the reason why Sky was the Crow stationed closest to Rogue Focus’s household.  They couldn’t ask him to participate directly, but Tiamat somehow had known Sky wouldn’t be able to resist if things went wrong.  Gilgamesh hoped he could pull some miracle out of the now collapsing fiasco in progress.

“Someday I’ll be able to be that brave,” Gilgamesh said, hugging his arms around his torso.

“You’re crazy, Crow,” Frances said.  “I just hope they don’t figure out where our command post is.”

Yes, that would be nice.  The whole idea of a big fight like this practically made Gilgamesh break out in hives.  He was glad he was up here and the fight was down there and over that-a-way.

Carol Hancock: July 20, 1968

No gunfire, no cops, no worries.  My people crept forward in the darkness.  A quarter moon provided a bare minimum of light, plenty for me, but damned little for the normals.  I hoped my people didn’t end up shooting each other out of general confusion.  “Fred, Dennis, stick six more over by the mailbox on the left,” I said.  Rogue Focus had gone for a defensive deployment and so far hadn’t shown herself.  Perfect.  “The Clinic Focuses are neutralized,” Lori said, over the walkie-talkie.  I smiled.

With that potential problem down, the next step was breaking the deployment Rogue Focus had ringed around her house.  I expected getting into the bitch’s house to take time.  By then her people would be shooting at us.  Lori expected Rogue Focus would have placed some nasty Freudian juice patterns on the house itself, or just inside – something about sunlight and weather degradation making it impossible to maintain nasty juice patterns outside.  According to Lori, juice patterns were exhaustible, meaning my expendable recruits were going to be, well, expended.  What might these juice patterns do?  Mess with the mind.  Not kill.  So my expendables had been taught to disarm, contain and remove anyone who got hit, and recognize Freudian tropes when it hit them.  I wasn’t really sure of the effectiveness of the last, but, well, you worked with what you had.

Rogue Focus’s weakest strongpoint was the north edge of her east back yard privacy fence.  I signaled my people – I couldn’t call them an army, there weren’t enough of them – before I rushed the fence and leapt over.  The plan was for me to disable and disarm the four defenders who guarded this section of the privacy fence.  My people would go through the fence and start taking down the perimeter defenders from behind their lines.  Noise suppressed handguns, handcuffs, rope, the works.  We were supposed to be keeping the body count down.

Only the leap of mine didn’t work.  Lori had sworn you couldn’t make a force field or Star Trek like ‘shields’ with a juice pattern, but it felt like that’s what I ran into in my leap.  Only, it was my own body fighting itself that caused me to ‘bounce’.  Pain like a thousand fishhooks ripped through my skin and my head exploded with the agony of a migraine headache from hell as I fell.

I grabbed my head as I hit the ground, moaning.  Following procedure, my people disarmed me, pulled me back under cover, in this case behind a couple of parked cars on the other side of the street, and contained me outside the lines.

The thousand fishhooks pain wasn’t the problem.  That I ignored; Keaton had done worse.  The headache was something else entirely, pain in nerves Keaton hadn’t ever been able to touch.  My eyesight wouldn’t focus, and multiple images spun around me, making me dizzy.  My metasense winked out, reduced to static.

I tried to bark orders, but nothing came out but a moan.  Dimly, I realized the attack had tossed me back into the same mental headspace I had been stuck in after I first woke up after my withdrawal episode: inability to talk, fractured logic, general insanity.  I probably couldn’t read or write again, but right now I didn’t care.

A deeper part of me realized I had stepped into the Freudian trope of phantasmagoria and become lost in chaos.  Well, as long as I didn’t take any sudden death drives or start thinking of my enemies as walking penises, I would be okay.  I
wasn’t
going to let this stop me.  I had done quite well as the ‘magical thinking’ Arm, thank you very much.  I burned juice to chase away the headache, or at least made the attempt.  It actually took me quite a while, perhaps half a minute, to find
where
inside my head the damned problem was.  Then I fixed it with a juice burn.

Gunfire.  People shouting.  Nobody in command.  There should have been someone.  Me, for instance.  Without me to lead, the entire attack was going to shit.  I fixed my eyesight and metasense with more juice burning and tried to stand.

Nope.  Someone had handcuffed my hands and feet.

I didn’t have time for this.  Pop!  Pop!  Now I wore chromed metal bracelets.

No words came through my mouth, dammit.  I looked around over the parked Cougar and found myself behind my people.  Thugs piled out of several cars stopped in the middle of the street, just a few houses down.  Enemies.  Normals.  As many of them as there were of us.  A fight!

I fought, the obvious thing to do.  They shot at me.  I was faster.  The enemy thugs, which weren’t a part of my plan, set up a defensive perimeter just to the west of Rogue Focus’s property.  West was a bad omen.  The Clinic was to the southeast.  West was the direction of the Fed’s safe house.  I didn’t like their direction, so I tried to keep the thugs from maintaining their defensive perimeter.  I counted bullet wounds: one, two, three, and decided the next one, ‘many’ would be a bad omen for me, so I retreated.  Many of my people and their people were no longer functional, lying on the ground and leaking blood.  This wasn’t how the attack was supposed to go.

Weak hands spun me around.  “Carol, what in the hell are you doing?”

Sky.  Crow.  In my face.

I picked him up and moved us farther back, to behind my trusty gold Cougar.  He didn’t resist.  I pointed to my mouth and shook my head.

“A juice pattern got you, eh, Commander?  I can’t even sense it!” Sky said.  Bad omen that.

What was he doing here?  Another bad omen.  And why had he called me ‘Commander’?

“What can I do?”

I shrugged.

“I know, I’ll get Lori,” he said.

His intended action didn’t match the plan, so I tried to stop him.  Instead, I caught his lips on mine, and then found inside myself a great desire to close my wounds, burning juice.  I did so.  When I finished Sky had vanished.  By now I was too addled to see the Freudianisms at work.  Thankfully.

Rogue Focus solved the problem with my plan, that of getting into her house, by exiting her house, with her combatants, joining up with the remaining mob of normal thugs.  They took off on foot, heading west.

There was method to her madness, but I had to burn juice to figure it out: the Feds wouldn’t let Rogue Focus keep any heavy weaponry in her house, just hand guns.  However, I knew the Feds had a substantial weapons locker in their safe house.  Rogue Focus was going for the big penises.

Definitely a bad omen.

Sky: July 20, 1968

Sky leapt like a madman toward the South Main Transform Clinic, happy for his last year of exercises and training.  He had run into a fight!  He knew he had been acting far more fierce and directed than normal, but he couldn’t believe he had actually run
into
a fight.  He wasn’t sure why, but he had a bad feeling it wasn’t because he had suddenly transformed into a Beast Man or something equivalently rational.  No, it was something Crowish and irrational: he had fallen for Carol in some insane subconscious fashion.  Nothing spectacular like Lori falling for Gilgamesh.  But he could no longer think of Carol as ‘Tiamat’.

Accouché!  What, was this a disease?  Well, yes, but not in the way he thought he meant.  Had he caught it from Lori?  Gilgamesh?  Or from Carol directly, when he had Crow-operated on her messed up glow?

At least he was running away from the fight
now
.