Chapter 07

Joe walked back into the Nebraska facility without any expectation of receiving a warm welcome. Kirchmann was still with him, but the older man seemed to share his awareness of impending issues with Margaret after Joe had kept her in the dark about Henrik and Jabari. He knew Kirchmann was still displeased by this, as displeased as the little old man could get anyway, but Joe didn’t care. He understood Margaret well enough to know he’d made the right choice there. She needed to be challenged once in a while or she’d steamroll everything and everyone in sight just to prove she could. Back in the day, Atticus would have taken this role, but now it fell on Joe’s shoulders. Atticus was barely keeping it together these days and Margaret was either so blinded by hatred that she didn’t notice or she had become too callous over the years to care. Regardless of what it was, neither reason was acceptable in Joe’s opinion, no matter what had happened almost four decades ago, and if he had any say about the matter it would stop soon.

He and the elderly Monsignor made their way carefully up to Margaret’s office and soon found themselves in their now familiar seats across from her impressive workspace. Margaret was busy pecking away at her laptop, but looked up to greet them as they sat. She didn’t seem to be on the verge of one of her trademark tirades, but this nonchalance seemed more ominous somehow. Closing her laptop after a few more moments of rigorous typing, she finally seemed ready to talk.

“Maryland went well I hope?” she said.

“It was not an entirely fruitless venture,” Kirchmann said almost sourly. “Joseph will not have to worry about reprimands from his former diocese at least. He is now officially working under my charge.”

“That must be a relief,” Margaret said, locking eyes with Joe momentarily before returning her gaze to Kirchmann.

Even with only that brief exchange, Joe knew he was far from out of the woods. She was playing nice for Kirchmann, nothing more. Their real talk would come after the elderly man had gone on his way. Mentally preparing himself for later, Joe said, “It had to be done. I am back where I belong now.”

Margaret ignored this and said, “I’ve had a good long talk with Fathers Jabari and Henrik and I think we have come to an understanding that will keep all parties happy. That is, if you agree, Monsignor.”

“What have our dear brothers come up with in my absence?” he laughed softly though he did not seem worried at all.

“They will be allowed to stay here, on your dollar of course, and will have full access to all readings from Wynters Tech instruments as they pertain to EDTF activities and all field data secured by Allen and his team. They can both use this data to support their theories and share it with your Order for whatever purposes you and your people see fit. Kim will make sure all of you know how to handle it properly and access it securely. I won’t have this arrangement resulting in any leaks on your end, be they careless or otherwise, but I’m confident this will serve as a good first step in mending the relationship between our two parties.”

“I’m sure this proposal thrilled them,” Kirchmann smiled, but Joe could see his mind was working hard to sort out what had caused Margaret to have such a quick change of heart. It was obvious to Joe that this was a fairly safe way for Margaret to appease the Order’s want for more open communication and data sharing without letting any more Order troops into her facility. “That would leave five Order members in your ranks.”

“Almost a third of our total number,” Margaret agreed emphatically.

Kirchmann nodded slowly, both agreeing with Margaret and making up his mind. “This sounds like a good beginning,” he said. “Brother Jabari and Brother Henrik are both valuable members of our Order. I hope you will use them to the full extent of their considerable abilities and not just to placate me. They will not care for it and you will be wasting the talents of good men.”

“Something I’ve made a rather successful career of not doing,” Margaret assured him. “Your men will not be underemployed here.”

“Well then, before I go, I must make one last attempt to connect you with our network of contacts, our eyes and ears if you will, on the ground. They are mostly laymen and women of the faith, but they are loyal to our cause and our mission. They could be of great help to you down the road,” Kirchmann said in a tone that implied he already knew what Margaret’s answer would be.

“With time,” Margaret said. “As I’m sure you understand we are on tricky legal ground as it is and bringing more people into the fold is not the most appealing prospect at the moment.”

“Understandable,” Kirchmann said. “If I can’t sway you today, I think I should probably be on my way. I’m needed back in Rome for a short time and will require a good long rest before getting back on a plane. I’m not a young man anymore. All that time in the car took a toll I’m afraid.”

“Kim will help you down to your vehicle Monsignor,” Margaret said. “You weren’t planning on having Joe drive you to the hotel were you?”

“No I’ll handle that on my own,” Kirchmann chuckled. “Driving makes the traveling easier in truth. I just try not to subject others to an old man’s pace. God gives his children enough tests in life without me adding my own to the mix.”

“Drive safely then,” Margaret said as Kim took the older man by the elbow and accompanied him out of the office. “We’ll be in touch.” Kirchmann said as he disappeared out of sight and into the vast facility beyond them.

Joe sat quietly in his chair and watched as Margaret stared at the door where Kirchmann had just exited. He could see the rage building in her slender frame, and decided to meet it head on. It was a dangerous strategy with her, but he had reached his breaking point with Margaret days ago. “Well, get on with it then,” he said, hearing how childish it sounded even as it left his lips.

“Excuse me?” Margaret said, turning to look him in the eye. “That’s how you want to start this?”

“Better than just waiting for the hammer to drop,” Joe said, trying to sound less petulant.

“I’m sorry, remind me how this is in anyway my fucking fault?” she yelled at him, rising from her seat and closing the distance between them. “You lied, for no goddamn reason that I can see, and put strain on a relationship that doesn’t need any more goddamn stress. Seems to me that you’re trying to undermine me for some reason that I can’t honestly figure out on my own, so why don’t you fill me in Joe?”

“You know full well that if I had told you about Henrik and Mustafa that you would have blocked it before they ever had the chance to plead their case,” Joe said. “I had no interest in going down that road with you.”

“Your case you mean,” she spat, laughing mercilessly. “Don’t pretend that you aren’t as invested as they are in proving that your theories about all of this are right. You seem unaware that whether these things are demons, folk tales or fucking aliens is irrelevant when we have two of them working for us; what the hell could those two men tell me that the Raven and the Prince couldn’t? I let them stay to avoid an embarrassing moment, a moment you fucking created for no reason other than to force this kind of interaction. I’m over it Joseph. You want to stay, fine. You can be a goddamned errand boy. Only thing I can trust you to do.”

“Margaret, I…” Joe began, trying to figure out which of these accusations and assertions to address first.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she said, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “You are who you’ve always been Joe; a meddlesome little cretin. I’ve had no use for it the last forty years and I sure as hell won’t put up with it now. Find something to do, but do it out of my sight and without me needing to hold your damn hand. If you need direction from here on out, ask Atticus.”

“Speaking of Atticus,” Joe said, unable to keep his anger from his voice, “is this about how things went with him after Florida wrapped up so nicely?” Even as the words left his mouth he knew he was just making things worse, and not just for himself.

“Yes actually,” she said coldly. “And why wouldn’t it be? The pair of you are two sides of the same dirty coin I tossed aside when I was still a girl. Jack was the only man who ever stood by you two long enough to make you seem even mildly palatable. And then you went and got him killed. Forgive me if I don’t feel like mending fences with you two jackasses. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

Joe didn’t need to be told twice. He was out of the office and searching for Atticus without any real memory of leaving Margaret behind before he knew it. She had always known how to cut deep and that skill seemed to have only sharpened with time. The harsh words about Jack had stung, but Joe had lived through what Margaret could only make assumptions about. He knew that Jack’s death had been the result of bad luck and a powerful evil they could never have anticipated before they’d met it face to face. Jack had known what could happen when they’d set off to hunt the A’Sin; they all had. Margaret throwing that in his face was low, but he could ignore it.

Atticus on the other hand was in real danger if this was what he had been dealing with in Joe’s absence. Tough as he may seem, Atticus felt things deeply and took responsibility for his own shortcomings and more. Even without Margaret’s constant attacks, he would have been in a bad state over what had happened to Jack. Before Joe consulted with his Brothers, he’d need to check on his old friend.

He found him outside the garages, smoking heavily and staring out at the endless sea of prairie grass that surrounded the facility. Joe had no idea how people could live out here. You could feel just how far from the water you were and everything around them but the grass seemed to be dead or well on it’s way. Not his ideal retirement location, that was for sure.

“You really need to cut back on those,” Joe said, squatting next to the office chair Atticus had smuggled out here.

“Have your little chat with Margaret yet?” Atticus growled back. He was in a foul mood it seemed.

“Just finished,” Joe said. “She’s a piece of work. Absolute…”

“Jesus Christ Joe, shut the hell up,” Atticus said, rubbing a hand over his ragged face as he flicked his cigarette into the dirt and turned to look at Joe with bloodshot, exhausted eyes. “You baited her. You baited her and made Kirchmann look like a fool for trusting you. You made him, the Order and most of all yourself, look totally incompetent. Margaret’s biggest fear is that letting any of you into the fold would be a mistake and you of all people should be showing her that isn’t true, not making everything worse.”

“I was just trying to circumvent more of her grandstanding,” Joe said flatly. This was not going like he’d hoped. “Just trying to show her she can’t talk to you or I like…”

Atticus was on his feet in a second and physically grabbed Joe by the front of his robes, pulling him down towards his admittedly low lying eyeline. “You want to go on being an asshole because of your hurt ego, fine, but don’t you dare make this about protecting me. I don’t need you looking out for me Joe. Margaret is right to treat us like she does. Jack is dead, Joe. Do you really get that yet? And it’s on us. You and me. Better you start accepting that and quit all this diva boy bullshit.”

----------------------------------------

Joe didn’t say a damn thing as he retreated back into the facility and left Atticus alone outside of EDTF headquarters. Joe Rigali really knew how to get under his fucking skin, that was for sure. He had known the priest was going to eventually lay his petulant behavior at Atticus’ feet and he’d been ready for days. Hopefully Joe would drop that shit now that he and Margaret had each given him a piece of their minds.

Annoyed that he’d cashed a perfectly good cigarette over Joe’s bullshit, Atticus went to grab himself a consolation smoke. As his hand slipped into his pocket, he felt his new phone start buzzing. Knowing he only had seconds before that awful ringtone kicked on, he answered the call immediately and said, “Atticus here.”

“Yeah, no shit, I called you,” Olivia’s voice said on the other end of the line. “You doing ok old man?” Atticus smiled as his former assistant mocked him. He missed having her on the EDTF grounds. She was one of the only people he didn’t actively avoid at this point.

“Sorry Liv, can’t figure out this new phone quite yet,” he lied. “What’s new? Anything come up in your tour of nowhere Louisiana?”

“Well that’s what we’ve spent all of last night and this morning debating,” Olivia said. Atticus listened as she told him about the team's sojourn into Doumont and the bits and pieces of odd information they’d all pulled together. The timeline was worrisome, as was the potential police corruption, but so far nothing she’d told him set off any serious alarm bells. “And then this voodoo guy Noah talked too, Jonathan something, pretty much reaffirmed all of that and added that he’s found bodies in the swamp. Attributed it to some sort of war brewing between people in town.”

“Bodies? How many? What state were they in? I don’t want to sound callous, but the swamps in this country are full of bodies. I’d guess almost all the world’s swamps are,” Atticus said.

“Guy didn’t say,” Olivia responded, “but Hayden seems to be thinking what you are.”

“And you and Noah think there’s reason to stay?” Atticus said. Hayden’s experience was undeniable, but Atticus tended to think that both Olivia and Noah had exceedingly good heads on their shoulders and was inclined to go with their gut feelings over Hayden’s expertise.

“To stay? For sure. To say that something is happening worth staying for...not yet,” she said honestly.

“Well I trust your intuition Liv. And Benjamin’s too to be fair. Send Noah back to this source of his, preferably alone, we don’t need too many people linked to this guy if he turns out to be a nut, and see what else he knows. Focus on the bodies. If he just found them, move on, but if he says they were mutilated or something that makes you think of the Carolinas, phone me.”

“Will do,” Olivia said. “Everything going alright on your end?”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Just peachy,” he said sarcastically. “Stay safe Liv. Don’t take any chances down there.”

“We will. See you soon I hope,” she said, and then she was gone.

Atticus looked at the phone sadly before putting it back in his jacket pocket. Before he could try and get at that much needed cigarette, another young woman’s voice got his attention. “Mr. Daniels? You know there’s no smoking on the grounds, correct?”

Atticus sighed as he turned to find Kim standing just inside the garage, a look of disdain etched on her otherwise attractive face. Whether it was due to his smoking or simply his existence in general, he had no idea. “What can I do for you Kim?” he asked.

“Margaret needs you in her office,” she said.

“For…” Atticus said. He may not be willing to go into hysterics like Joe every time Margaret treated him like this, but he wasn’t going to be as submissive as the woman seemed to think he should be.

“She wants you to sit in on her meeting with the Raven,” Kim said as if this was too much information already.

“More meetings eh?” Atticus sighed. “The woman needs to find another hobby.”

“Please hurry,” Kim said as she waited for him to show some sign that he was in fact coming with her.

“No time for a quick smoke then?” he asked.

“There is no smoking on the…”

“I was kidding kid, lead the way.” he said half-heartedly. He really did need that smoke. “Any chance she’s in a better mood than last time,” he asked as they reached the outer door to her office.

“Your friend Father Rigali didn’t do you any favors there,” Kim answered stiffly, but she did answer, which was a solid improvement as far as Atticus was concerned. As he followed her up to Margaret’s office, Atticus thought he might be able to win her over yet.

Walking into the office Atticus was met with a sight that took a moment for him to process. The Raven was standing in the center of the room across from Margaret, the feathers that ran down the backs of his arms bristling in a way that did not bode well for anyone in his path. Margaret seemed unintimidated by this and was thrusting something at the Raven despite his obvious annoyance.

“Everything alright here?” Atticus asked.

“No,” the Raven said.

“Yes,” Margaret said at exactly the same time. Raising his eyebrows, Atticus waited for an explanation. “I’ve decided our friend the Raven here is showing a bit too much skin for the modern world and I’ve commissioned him some pants that should help with that,” she said finally.

“And you aren’t going to wear them I take it?” Atticus asked the Raven. Currently the man wore nothing more than a loin cloth and some leather undergarments beneath it. It kept anything too scandalous from showing, but it did take some getting used to.

“They will restrict my movements,” The Raven said, crossing his arms and glaring at the pants through the eye slots in his helmet.

“I made sure when I had them tailored that they would not,” she said. “They even look and feel like what you’ve already got on. Just try them. They’ll help you blend in a little more.” Looking the Raven over, Atticus wasn’t sure if that was necessarily true. Considering that the helmet, the one that looked as though it had been burned onto him, sat well above his beltline, he doubted pants were what it would take to assimilate the Raven to modern societal norms. It would be a start though.

“It will be easier to just try them on,” Atticus said.

“Why would I care what is easier?” the Raven said. “I will not wear them.”

“Just wear them man, so we can get to real business,” Atticus shot back as he took a seat.

The Raven watched him with his head slightly cocked to the side, an odd expression of his, but eventually he took the pants from Margaret, who returned to her seat behind her desk. Atticus had to fight back laughter as she turned bright red upon sitting. Atticus had seen enough of the processes’ start to avert his eyes, but Margaret seemed to have gotten a full view of the Raven as he changed into his new garments mere feet from them.

“How do you like them?” she half choked as she looked anywhere but directly at the Raven.

“They are acceptable,” the Raven said as he bent his legs and threw some slow, practiced kicks in the center of the office. “I will don them for now.” Atticus smirked uncontrollably as he prepared for what was sure to be one of the more interesting discussions to take place in the office he was coming to know so well.

“Well I appreciate you coming to speak with me,” Margaret said, trying to regain some of her composure after the embarrassing moment she’d just suffered.

“I am your prisoner. I come when called because I have no other choice,” the Raven said.

That wiped the smirk off Atticus’ face at once. “Now hold on,” he said. “You agreed to stay here. No one is keeping you locked up.”

“You make distinctions where there are none,” the Raven said back coolly. “If I tried to leave you would stop me. If I did leave, you would hunt me. I know this, so I stay. Call it what you will, but I see this arrangement for what it is.”

“We’d like to call it an alliance,” Margaret said, a little more of her usual fire back in her voice. “You’ve been very tight-lipped about why you’ve come here, but so far you seem willing to help us, when it suits you of course. I want to be able to trust you, but I have to be honest, so far that isn’t going so well.”

“Because I will not make you a new map?” the Raven said.

“Not just because you seem to be playing dumb when it comes to the map,” she corrected him, “but because the old stories about you label you as a deceiver. One who lies by their very nature. Now I mean you no harm, none of us do, but that is not something I can tolerate in a partner.”

“Then let me leave,” the Raven said.

“I can’t do that,” Margaret responded.

“Then I am a prisoner,” the Raven said. “That is the truth, if truth is what you seek from me.”

“I seek information,” Margaret said. “So far my only insights into what’s happening here are that there is some other place connected to our world and that things like you are going to be coming here to do awful and destructive things sporadically for the near future. As far as we know, you are the sole exception to this rule. That makes me very uncomfortable and I doubt it is difficult for you to understand why.”

“You have the Prince,” the Raven retorted.

“Yes, but he is not like you by his own admission and from what I understand his people fled your world to avoid exactly what is happening in our world now. That being said, he has vouched for you Raven. That’s the only reason we’re having this conversation. If he has faith that we can work together to accomplish our goals, I believe him.”

“He is a being of great power,” the Raven nodded, “but he is not all powerful. Do not place all your faith in the sons and daughters of the ether. They are not like us, as you have already stated. Our concerns are not their concerns. Our end is not their end.”

“That isn’t exactly a commitment to help us,” Margaret said.

“What help have I refused you?” the Raven said. “You treat me as though I am an enemy, not one who has kept some of your people alive. Your kind owe me, Margaret Wynters, not the other way around.”

The two of them were talking in circles at this point and Atticus now understood why Margaret had brought him into this, even if she didn’t. Her temper would not outlast the Raven’s meandering non-answers and he was here as a buffer. Not his most useful role, but one he could execute without issue.

“We aren’t accusing you of withholding information exactly,” Atticus cut in, “we just wonder why you haven’t been offering up help or information about you or your world more readily.”

“You worry I cannot be trusted but never consider that you yourselves have trust to earn,” the Raven said. “Ask me what you will and I will answer.”

“Truthfully?” Margaret said skeptically.

“Deception is but one of many tools I’ve used to stay alive,” the Raven said. “My world is not like this one. It is not soft or forgiving. Misinformation and half-truths can keep enemies at bay and traitors in the dark. I have lived as long as I have because I trusted only a few. Even that has had its cost. To blindly trust you and your kind is against my nature and my better judgment.”

“Well maybe it’s time for a new line of action for this new world you’ve found yourself in,” Atticus suggested.

“Perhaps,” the Raven said. “As I said, ask what you will. I will answer what I can.”

Atticus shot Margaret a look that said this was all on her now and she got working without pause. “So you say that you can’t look at the map I gave you and tell what might come through each gate based on all of the data we’ve given you?”

“No,” the Raven said flatly.

“Why not?” Margaret asked.

“I do not understand the question,” the Raven said.

“How can you not guess what might come through each gate?,” Margaret reiterated. “You said the gates are always in the same place on your end and you suggested in earlier interviews that you were aware of having been in the Carolinas prior to being taken there by Allen and his men. I just find it totally implausible that you can’t come up with some useful way to put all of that knowledge together and help us out.”

“I see,” the Raven said slowly. “You misunderstand the nature of the gates.”

“How so?” Margaret asked. Now they were getting somewhere.

“A great many of the beings in my world live in a state of flux. They are not settled like you are here. Tribes of prey float from here to there and my kind hunt them in turn. The gates lay mostly in the wilderness and are used by opportunists or are simply stumbled upon by beasts of the land or sky. Only a select few are owned or guarded by specific beings, but as I said, I cannot mark them for you on your map regardless of whether you understand why or not.”

“Can you please try to explain why not?” Margaret suggested.

“Explain what?,” the Raven said again.

“Why you can’t show us these owned gates?” Margaret said through gritted teeth.

“Because I come from the wildest lands of my world,” the Raven said, as if still confused by the exact question he was being asked. “I know little of the gates in the more developed lands. I just know to avoid them and that they exist.” This didn’t make much sense to Atticus but Margaret seemed willing to move past it.

“Can you explain what’s happening in Michigan then?” Margaret said changing tact. “Why is that gate holding open like this? Shouldn’t something have come through by now?”

“Gates open of their own accord. Most are used quickly, that is true, but not all,” the Raven shrugged.

“Is there any chance it is being held open?” Atticus asked. This idea had been bothering him for awhile now. “I know you said that your kind can’t truly die here. What if something is trying to come back?” He didn’t mention the A’Sin by name, but the possibility had been sitting poorly with him.

“The A’Sin should not trouble you any longer,” the Raven said in an almost soothing voice. Atticus relaxed slightly, but eyed the Raven with open suspicion. This was not the first time the man had given him the impression that he could read Atticus’ mind.

“But could it come back? This thing that killed Jack and the Order man?” Margaret asked, shooting Atticus an alarmed look. He had not vocalized this concern with her before now. It had seemed too much like the nightmares of a scared child for Atticus’ already damaged pride to risk.

The Raven cocked his head to the side again at this, but didn’t answer right away as he had with their other questions so far. “Passing through the gates takes a toll, exacts a price,” the Raven said finally. “When my kind cross over to your world, we lose not only some of our strength, but a part of ourselves. Your men saw this when they found me recovering in that cave shortly after I arrived here in the Shadow. Even had the witch and the graul not attacked me, I would have needed to rest after my journey to your world. What you must understand is that going back has a cost too. The closer these two events occur to one another, the more collective stress is put on the being doing the traveling between planes. If I crossed over one day and returned the next, I would likely suffer physical problems on my return home. Now, when you add to the equation being sent back, against one’s will as the Prince did to the A’Sin, you compound that damage exponentially.”

“In other words,” Margaret mused, “the cost of being sent back too soon after your initial cross over makes the cost of returning for revenge too high?”

“Exactly,” the Raven said. “The A’Sin surely wants you dead, but he will not risk any more adverse effects from traveling here to do it and you will be long gone by the time the next cycle begins.”

“A comforting thought,” Atticus said, and he meant it.

“For you perhaps,” the Raven said.

“What about Louisiana?” Margaret asked. “The place we told you Hayden, Olivia and Noah went.”

“I have no insights,” the Raven said.

“None?” Atticus prompted.

“None,” the Raven confirmed.

“Well I spoke to Olivia just before I came up here and she thinks there might be something going on down there,” Atticus said. Both Margaret and the Raven seemed interested by this news. Atticus told them what the others had found, but ended by saying, “Hayden doesn’t seem to think it’s anything but corrupt cops making the most of their last days on the job, but the others aren’t convinced.”

“Sounds like compulsion to me,” the Raven said.

“Excuse me?” Margaret asked.

“The odd actions, strange meetings,” the Raven said, “these signs all point to compulsion, at least in my experience. Some of my kind have more subtle magic than the A’Sin at their disposal. They draw power from loyal adherents and use them as tools to sow discord or harass their enemies. An imperfect strategy compared to a being like the A’Sin, but a safe one for the master in charge of the compelled.”

“Anything more specific?” Margaret asked.

“It is not an uncommon trait and is present in many of my kind,” the Raven shrugged. “Low magic. It could be a host of different beings. Speculation would be unwise and unhelpful.”

“Of course it would,” Margaret muttered audibly. “Before I let you...before you get back to whatever it was you were doing before this, is there anything else you think would be good for our people to know?”

“No,” the Raven said without hesitation.

“If the time comes and some of your kind are stirring things up in Louisiana,” Atticus said as the Raven was preparing to leave, “will you help us?”

“When the time comes,” the Raven said, “I am sure I will prove my worth. Again.” Turning to Margaret before he left, the Raven said, “I am sorry I do not have all the answers you seek. In time I hope to earn your trust and to give you mine.” With that he was gone.

“Strange son of a bitch,” Atticus said, “but that wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”

“Not even close,” Margaret said, her mind clearly elsewhere. Before Atticus could leave, she added, “Thank you for being present. He seems to respond differently to you. I’ll try to give you more notice next time. I’ve been all over the place today.”

“Not a problem. I’m here to help,” Atticus said before leaving Margaret to her thoughts.