Five Hertz of Separation

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

It had been a surprisingly short fight. At least three squads of the Queen’s Guard had ridden up but we had disarmed most of them before they even dismounted. None of them expected their weapons to be yanked from their hands. The only ones who kept their guns were those who had the straps around their arms or shoulders and they ended up on the ground at their horses’ feet. They came up firing but that only lasted as long as their fingers remained unbroken, which was not very long.

Once I found their Captain, I lifted him off his horse, held him in mid-air, stripped him of his clothes and dropped him back down on his mount, naked. They did not stay long after that. They may be planning some kind of attack right now but the longer it takes, the better for us, as long as Alexia is doing what she promised. It doesn’t really matter if she succeeds or fails. I am not leaving here until I have had my revenge.

The magic power here is breathtaking. Things that were difficult before are easy. Lifting one barrel of flour skyward would have been hard three days ago but now, lifting all four was nearly effortless. Crushing them was easier than not crushing them. I wonder if this is how Alexia feels every day. Or Opulessa.

Suddenly, someone grabs me by the back of my blouse. I turn, ready to fight but discover that it is only Dierdra.

“What do you want?” I demand.

“You are coming to help with the medical problems. Now.”

“I am still needed here. There may be another attack. We do not know …”

“If there is another attack, Olga will replace you. I saw how much you enjoyed yourself out there.”

“And what is wrong with that? You cannot tell me what to do.”

“Alexia left me in command. You will do as I say.”

“What do I care of Alexia’s orders? I am here and I will do as I please!”

“You will do no such thing!”

Dierdra stands straight up, spreading her arms wide, palms up, her fingers extended. She seems to be growing before my eyes, sparks passing between her fingers, her hair flying about as if alive. She is a Fifty Two while I am a Forty Five. I know how powerful I feel, she must be experiencing the same things I did, only more so. I step away from her and raise my hands, ready to strike at her but she slaps me down as if I were a child. She lifts me off the ground, shaking me.

“I brought you into this! I vouched for you! I knew how badly you wanted vengeance but I did not expect you to be so reckless! Come, see the results of your handiwork.”

I fight her but she easily drags me back toward the Palace wall in which there is now a large hole, the result of the explosion. Once inside the Palace grounds, Dierdra takes a zig zag route through large pieces of debris. I can also see much damage from the dust fire. It was my hope that the dust would travel through out the building, burning those inside to death. I have not seen any corpses yet. She stops, opens a door and throws me inside the room. Landing on the floor, I quickly scramble to my feet and confront her.

“How DARE you treat me in such a manner! We have known each other for YEARS!”

“I thought I knew you. Clearly, I was wrong. Greet the residents of the building next to the Palace. If your conscience permits it.”

I look around the room. There are at least twenty people, men women and children, who are burned, some worse than others, all being cared for by members of our coven. I had not intended this though I knew it was possible.

“This is war Dierdra. Innocents sometimes get hurt, even die. It is the price we pay for victory.”

“OH, WE pay that price, do WE? Let me show you another set of your victims from today.” She starts to walk away but I do not follow. She stops after a few steps, turning back to me. “Afraid to see them are you? You can either walk or be drug.”

Reluctantly, I follow her to another, smaller room attached to the larger room. When we enter, the smell is horrible. I hurriedly cover my nose and mouth with a handkerchief. Dierdra takes it away from me.

“You need the full experience, Beckwith. Step aside, Olga.”

Olga gets up, staring at me as if she would kill me if she could. My eyes follow her as she leaves the room. What have I done to her?

“Look this way, Beckwith,” growls Dierdra. I turn back to where Olga was originally sitting. There are two low makeshift beds on which there are two terribly burned bodies, charred flesh peeling off their limbs. One is much smaller than the other. Suddenly, the larger one moans in pain.

“She is alive?!” I cry.

“Yes. Olga has performed miracles today. It is now your turn. They are mother and daughter. There is a second child, a baby. The mother could only protect one of her children when their room became flooded with flour dust which burst into flames. You behaved as a Healer before today. Prove to me that you are still a human being. Keep this woman and her child alive until Alexia can come and heal them.”

“Heal them?! That is impossible! That they live at all is Zaphod’s will.”

“Then you best pray for his blessings because if either of them dies, you will join that poor, tortured soul in the after life in the same manner. And should you care to know, this is not just my decision. Every member of the coven who has seen these poor unfortunates agrees with me. That is eight of twelve. I expect it will soon be unanimous.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

The horn drew all eyes, including mine, to the top of the tower, bringing a momentary halt to the panicked hurley burley in the Courtyard. Most everyone gasps or screams when the figure appears to leap from the top of the tower, arms outstretched and then starts to fall towards the ground below. It rapidly becomes obvious that it is a woman and that she will strike the ground very soon. Many people run away from where it appears she will land. The woman almost seems to fall faster than expected and strikes the ground with great force, raising a large cloud of dust. As the dust settles, a few men edged towards where one would expect to see the various body parts, but the woman is still intact! In fact, she is hunched over one knee, dressed completely in black. She raises her head, looking directly at me, smiling through blood red lips on her flawless porcelain skin surrounded by a wild mane of dark black hair. She rises and steps forward from the depression in the dirt around her.

One must give her credit for such a simple but impressive entrance. That and her manner of dress. No woman would ever appear in public dressed as she is, no matter how lovely she might be. Ahhh youth, precious youth. So bold and unconventional! So confident! I will allow that confidence to grow before taking it away. I rise from my throne.

“Welcome to my party. By what name do you answer, my dear?”

“My name is Alexia Thompson. You may call me Alexia, Opulessa.”

Such disrespect! Insolence such as that must be punished, but not quite yet.

“Alexia it shall be. Perhaps you are aware of another famous Alexia?”

“Yeah, I am. I think she got bad press. If she’d had a better agent, the name ‘Alexia’ would be more popular than sliced bread.”

Did that fall addle her mind? No matter. “You dress as she would.”

“What, this old thing? I just threw it on today. Thought it might be more comfortable than all that full skirted stuff you wear. You can tell me, just between us girls, you’re what … two, maybe three stone overweight? When you’re young and fit like I am, you can wear just about anything but when you get old and fat, like you … well, the choices are more limited, aren’t they, Opulessa?”

Now the punishment. “If you can not be bothered to dress appropriately, perhaps you should not be dressed at ALL!”

I waive my hand, ripping the clothes from her body … but they do not move! She has blocked me! She smirks at me.

“Nice try. My turn, Grandma.”

A blow strikes me in the head. Losing my balance, I fall to the stage floor. That infuriating young witch flies into the air and lands on the other end of the stage opposite me.

“You and I need to talk, Opulessa. You may yet live through this.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Where the hell are my men!

The Queen wanted me on stage with the rest of the dignitaries but first there was the explosion and fire. I hadn’t fought my way fifty feet into the crowd before there was that God awful blast on the horn and the rogue witch fell out of the sky. I thought she’d screwed up and died right then but she got up and walked out of the crater she made when she hit the ground. That’s one tough bitch.

My boys should have been pouring into the courtyard by now but there’s been zilch! I haven’t got my radio with me because the Queen didn’t want the chatter to interrupt the ceremony but I left it nearby. By the time I reach it, they’ve traded blows and Opulessa seems to be having the worst of it. I switch it on.

“This is Colonel Willis! Anyone who can hear this, REPORT!”

“This is Captain Ridgeway, reporting as ordered, Sir”

“Where the FUCK are you, Ridgeway?!”

“In the Mess with the rest of the guys, Colonel.”

The Mess? Why in God’s name are they … “Get your asses out to the courtyard this God Damn instant Ridgeway. Do you read me?!”

“Yes, Sir, we read you loud and clear but no can do. The Queen told us all to stay here until she came and got us personally.”

What the fuck?! “Exactly when did she tell you this, Ridgeway?”

“About twenty five minutes ago. Before that big ass explosion, that’s for sure.”

“Well I am countermanding that order, Ridgeway! All of you get your gear and report to the courtyard immediately!”

“Sorry, Colonel. The Queen said that there would be people trying to get us to violate her orders so we all solemnly swore to follow her orders in detail, no matter what anybody else said.”

“Ridgeway, I am not someone, I am your commanding OFFICER! Get your asses out here NOW!”

“Again, sorry Colonel, but you aren’t the Queen and you can’t countermand her orders”

I look up at the stage. They’re talking right now so I’ve got time to go and rattle some cages.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

She surprised me with that. Usually, there is a momentary surge of power before a witch strikes but her attack was instantaneous. Like mine are. I will not be taken so again. I slowly regain my feet and arise, maintaining my dignity as I do so.

“You wish to speak to me? Address me as is my due. I am your Queen.”

“Not mine, actually. My country overthrew the royal yoke about two hundred thirty seven years ago … which wasn’t long before you were born. Huh, I hadn’t thought about that before. I wonder if that means something? That’s for later. Right now, Opulessa, I want to talk about those who are your subjects. Do you have any idea what’s going on outside these walls? The poverty, the ignorance, the sickness, the abuse? Do you know how badly other women are treated? We are not respected. We’re pawed whenever we go out in the street alone. This is no way to run a world, Opulessa, but you can change that.”

“Why would I wish to do so?”

“You’re supposed to be in charge, that makes you responsible.”

“I have others who do that for me. I have passed responsibility on to them.”

“So, if they fuck it up, what do you do about it?”

“Such language! One who speaks with such a foul mouth deserves to look as they sound.”

I make no outward move but curse her nonetheless. For just a moment or two, her face begins to sprout fine, white feathers but they disappear. She shakes her head in disgust.

“Really? A chicken? That’s your answer? I treat you like a responsible adult and you try to slip me a curse. I don’t want to kill you, but I will if you force me to. There is too much riding on this to be squeamish. Are you willing to lead your people to a better, more equal world?”

“And who decides what this ‘better world’ is? A child like you? An outsider? You have barely lived one score while I have lived over eleven. Yes, these are my people and I will treat them as I wish, not how some simple minded trollop believes I should. MY people, do you hear! Mine to do with as I please!”

“I tried Opulessa. I gave you every chance. Beckwith said it was a waste of time. Turns out she was right this time.”

I feel the blows coming this time and block them, but barely. I am forced back to the edge of the stage before regaining my balance, yet, I am stronger for it. This is what I have been waiting for. She strikes again and again, in a frenzy of undisciplined youth, each strike filling my reservoir of power. I can sense that she is becoming fatigued, her attacks weaker. She has used her power too quickly, not allowing herself time to gather more power from the magic around her.

The ignorance of youth. It will be her undoing. Time to provide an education.

Stepping out of my crouch, I backhand her from the end of the stage. She flies at least thirty decileages before landing hard in a cloud of dust. I leap into the air and land close to her as she scurries to her feet, a look of puzzlement upon her face.

“What was that?!”

I backhand her again. She rolls to a stop, resting against a series of flag poles. This time, when she rises, there is a look of concern mixed with fear upon her face. She grabs one of the flag poles and rips it from the ground, turning to face me with it in her magically enhanced hands. She is learning, though likely by accident. It is better to attack a witch with things rather than raw magic. Raw magic attacks takes more power from you and passes it to your opponent. Using a magic controlled device conserves your power and forces your opponent to use her power to defend herself. To bad for her it is now too late.

“Have at you!” She shouts, charging me, swinging the long pole at my head. I am too fast for her, easily dodging the pole, then breaking it in half with a flick of my wrist. She throws the remaining stub aside.

“Is that all you’ve got!” she screams. “You’re nothing! You’re a washed out, used up, old dinosaur!”

I do not know what a dino-souer is but it is likely an insult. I reach out and pull a shower of bricks off the wall behind her. They mostly miss but a few strike their target, hitting her in her arms and legs. She moves away, limping slightly, panting.

“That’s it?! That’s ALL?! Tis but a scratch. A few measly bricks?! I’d expect more from a fat, old, relic like you. You’re supposed to be this almighty, all powerful witch of the century … hell, two centuries. Come on Oppy. Show me your good stuff!”

I oblige her.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

When I reach the Mess, most of them are eating. The rest were watching a movie and eating. I’m going to flay the lot of them.

“CAPTAIN RIDGEWAY!!!”

The men fall away as Ridgeway pushes himself forward through the crowd, still holding his hamburger. He salutes with his free hand.

“Captain Ridgeway reporting, Sir.”

“What are you imbeciles doing?!”

“Nothing, Sir. We just thought that we might as well take advantage of the down time. You know what they say. Never pass up a meal while in the field, you don’t know when the next opportunity will come. We’re ready to drop everything and go the instant the Queen needs us.”

“The Queen needs you right now! I need you to grab your gear and get out to the courtyard. She’s fighting for her life, you idiot!”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but we’re just following orders. As I told you over the radio, The Queen was very, very explicit. We’re all to stay here until she personally comes to get us. Her exact words, Colonel.”

“And how did you know it was the Queen, Ridgeway?”

He smiled that familiar wide, slightly hazy smile you always see on a guys face after seeing the Queen. “There was no doubt, Colonel Willis. We all saw her and felt the love, her concern about our lives, that she wanted to keep us all safe. It was as strong as I’ve ever felt it. We all did.”

There was a general nodding of heads and those whose mouths weren’t stuffed with food added their two cents in agreeing with Ridgeway, even some of those whose mouths were stuffed with food.

“See, Colonel, no question about it. Maybe you should ask yourself why you haven’t joined us.”

“Because I’m not a fucking moron, that’s why! When this is done, I’m shipping the lot of you home, do you understand me? Home! Back to a girls life! Pretty dresses and high heels and makeup and no respect and fighting off stinking bastards until you just can’t fight anymore. Is that what you want, because, as God is my witness, that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Ridgeway squares his shoulders and straightens up. “You do what you have to do, Colonel. The men and I have our Orders and we will follow them, to the letter, or die trying.”

Every last man jack stands up, taking the same stance. Who ever got to them got to them good. This is a fucking waste of time. I grab a M4A1 stacked against the wall and two spare clips sitting on the table.

“I’m taking these with me. Anybody got a problem with that?”

“No, Sir,” answers Ridgeway. “If we need more, we can requisition them from the Armory.”

“Great. NOW you’re being reasonable. When I find out who fucked up my command, there will be hell to pay.”

I turn and run for the door. I need to get back to the courtyard before it’s too late.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I’ve gone too far.

I knew it while I was doing it but the foolish girl would not be silent! No matter what I did, she continued to taunt and insult me. It was unbearable! Did she not understand who I am? Not being born in this world was no excuse; she had lived here long enough to learn how to properly treat a person of my stature. Instead, she had called me names, such as “Corpulessa”, “Tubbo”, and “The Wicked Witch of the West”. When I struck her with the remains of the flag pole, her arm was cut badly but she claimed it “was merely a flesh wound”. Regardless of what strike or curse I used, she would first block it and then deride my skill and power.

The result was that I over extended myself, just as she did early in our contest. The difference was that she had carefully husbanded her absorbed magic, not even bothering to repair her damaged arm, instead wrapping it with a torn piece of one of my birthday banners. She was careful not to give back any of the magic she retained from my attacks. I had deliberately given her openings but she refused to take them. The result being that I am now weaker than I was after the first attack and she is stronger. Surely, she does not know the limitations of our contest. How could she learn in such a short time what has taken me a lifetime? I can sense a growing confidence in her. Let us hope it is over confidence. We are slowly circling one another near the middle of the courtyard, raising a small cloud of dust, separated by about twenty paces. A cool wind blows across my face, stirring loose strands of hair, which land in my eyes. They are not blonde but gray! I glance at my hands. They are no longer smooth and supple but wrinkled with enlarged joints and age spots. There is thunder in the distance and I can feel the change in the weather in my joints. Alexia smiles at the sound of the echoes of thunder.

“About damn time. You’re looking a little old and haggard there, Oppy. Hope I’m not wearing you out.

I no longer have enough magic to easily maintain my façade of youth. I could take what I need from reserves but it is not worth it to waste power on such frivolities. There will be plenty of magic available to both restore my beauty and remove the memories of those who saw me in my current degrading condition once I have defeated this interloper and taken her power as my own.

“I am well, do not worry. Perhaps you should test me.”

“Perhaps I should.”

I tense my muscles, causing unsightly bulges to appear along my thin skinned arms. My movements are slow and feeble, my muscles having grown weak from lack of use due to my use of magic to support them. Consider this a lesson learned. After I defeat this ill bred whelp, I will take better care of myself in the future. She steps towards me, raising her hands. Here comes the blow … but I feel nothing but the air gently swirling around me, carrying dust skyward. Two can play the insult game.

“Is this your best effort, child? If so, it is disappointingly weak. I have created great winds, strong enough to topple the buildings in entire towns.”

“Good for you, Blondie, oh wait, that’s no longer true, is it? Your gray roots are showing. Actually, it’s more than your roots. Truthfully, Honey, you look like shit on a stick.”

It is all that I can do to keep myself from trying to wipe that smirk off her face but my resources are very low. My attack must be verbal.

“No need to concern yourself about my appearance. When I have defeated you, I will imprison you in a tower and slowly take your youth from you. You will be my prisoner for hundreds of years to come.”

The winds continue to swirl around me as a long, thin line of dust winds its way up towards the darkening clouds above the courtyard, the thunder growing louder and more frequent. I do not understand what is going on.

“Is this supposed to harm me in some way? I am getting dust in my eyes but other than that, you are wasting your time.”

“Ya’ think so? Let me educate you while we wait. There was a great man in my world, now dead. He was a scholar, a revolutionary, a patriot, a politician, an author, a humorist, an inventor, a scientist, an ambassador and a bureaucrat. Among his many accomplishments was the time when, at great personal risk, which he actually didn’t realize until too late but better dumb luck than none at all, right? Where was I, oh yeah, this great scientist managed to capture lightning in a jar by using nothing more than a kite, some string, a jar and a key. The man’s name was Benjamin Franklin. I don’t have a kite, string, key or jar but a thin stream of dust connecting the ground to the thunderhead will do the same thing as a kite string. This should work … just about …” I feel my hair rise in the air about me, my skin tingling. “ … now.”

There was a blinding flash of light, a tremendously loud explosion and a searing, burning heat. My entire body was wracked with intense pain, more severe than any I have ever felt in my long life. It pulsed several times then disappeared, leaving me stunned and on my knees, barely able to breathe. It would have killed anyone but myself or Alexia.

“What … happened … you …” the gentle breeze and swirl of dust returned. I will not survive another strike! I try to struggle to my feet but cannot make my legs follow my commands. The tingling sensation begins again as I fall to the ground.

It does no good. More light, more sound, more heat, more and more pain.

The stench of burning hair and flesh fills my nose. Somehow, I am still alive though every breath is accompanied by a bone breaking cough. I am laying face first in the dirt, weak as a day old baby, wrung of all strength and control. I am barely able to push myself up and look around.

My clothes, my beautiful clothes, are singed tatters. My hands and exposed arms look ancient, wrinkled with bags of skin. My head feels surprisingly cool, which likely means my hair has been burned away. I feel … old, old as I have never felt before. The dust begins to stir around my hands, floating up into the air.

“Nooooo…” I quietly moan as I try to crawl away but it is hopeless, Again, I feel as if I am being scorched, tossed and torn apart when the lightning strikes for the third time. When I regain my senses, I am on my back, still alive. A cold drop of rain strikes my forehead, followed immediately by several more. Very quickly, the rain is falling in sheets. It is refreshing and I find enough strength to roll over and push myself upright on my knees.

The courtyard is rapidly becoming a muddy muddle as the rain pours down. The few people who had stayed to watch our contest have taken cover elsewhere. Only she and I remain. I manage a quiet laugh but it sounds like a cackle.

“No more dust, child. That is the end of that trick! I remain alive! The magic will not let me die! You cannot kill me!”

There is a shell of magic power surrounding her. I can see the rain strike it and hear the sizzle as it turns to steam. I have never seen anyone try to hold so much magic inside themselves before now. I do not know if it is my imagination or my eyes growing old but her image seems to shimmer slightly, as if she might dissolve before me.

I have other plans for her. For now, I must recover my magic.

“Stupid Girl! Did you think you could defeat me so simply? I remain alive despite the power of the Gods! You cannot continue to hoard the power for yourself.”

“Why not? I’m doing pretty good so far.”

She attempts to make light of our predicament. I might allow her to continue as she has if not for my need of the magic that she withholds. It would be interesting to see what happens to her.

“Surely, even a fool such as yourself has discovered that you cannot kill me! It is the balance of magic for witches as advanced as we. Even if you do nothing, I will recover but you cannot afford to wait that long. Even now, I can see the strain you are under. You have tried to capture all the magic available and deny it to me. It cannot be done! Surrender the power to me and I will show you pain like none has ever experienced in this world. Do that or do nothing. I will enjoy watching the magic tear you apart.”

She just stands there as the downpour continues around us, trembling from the effort of holding the enormous quantity of magic within herself.

“I know that I can’t kill you. I know the rules,” she growls in a low, strained tone.

“Then what do you hope to achieve?”

“A loophole.”

She falls to one knee, extending both hands towards me. I can actually see the air bend around her hands as she prepares to strike at me. I await the strike with open arms, for it is my salvation and her ultimate doom. I have taken the best she has to give but she has experienced only a token of my abilities. When the strike arrives, I am enveloped with both pain and pleasure, soaking up the power as a sponge does water, filling every part of my body, down to the very marrow of my bones. She smiles at me through gritted teeth.

“It’s not always nice to be the King.”

She snaps her finger.

It all disappears. The pain. The pleasure. Everything. It is as if I am an empty, hollow shell.

“What have … you … done?” I croak, unable to breathe in more than shallow, inadequate, gasps.

She doesn’t answer me right away, appearing to be spent from the effort of whatever she did. I begin to notice other problems. While I felt weak before, I am much weaker now, fighting to keep my balance on my knees. All my joints scream with pain as I sway in place. A strong wind blows and I fall on my side, several bones breaking when I strike the ground. My heart is barely beating. It is growing much darker around me. Cold, so cold.

“Help … me … some … one.”

I can plainly hear the sound of the rain striking the ground around me. The hiss is almost deafening. Now there is the sound of someone sloshing though the mud, moving next to me.

“I did to you what your world did to me. I changed your sex. I may not be able to kill you but you don’t see a lot of two hundred thirty two year old men running around.”

Cannot see.

No breath.

No heart.

No …

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

That took more out of me than I thought it would. Practicing on rats in the barn back on the farm gave me a hint but a person has a lot more cells than a rat. To instantly replace an “X” chromosome with a “Y” chromosome in every cell in Opulessa’s body at the same moment was the hardest thing I had ever done, by far. The lightning strikes brought her power levels down far enough to make her vulnerable but I still had to deliver.

Looking at the tiny, wasted, crumpled, body of the old man in the mud next to me, it’s hard to believe what it used to be. I wish that there had been some other way.

No rest for the wicked. Suck it up, Alexia, old girl. There’s more work to be done before the end of the day.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I was too late.

When I heard that first lightning strike, I thought another bomb had gone off. That’s when people started streaming down the hall at me, hundreds of frightened, panicked people. The wave hit me just as the second bolt landed. Sounded like it struck ten feet away from me. Swear to God. I finally had to fire several rounds into the ceiling to get the crowd to make way. The third strike knocked me on my ass just as I entered the courtyard. Some of the electricity must have bounced around, looking for a ground. Lucky I wasn’t it but I did get in the way and paid the price.

When I came to, it was raining buckets. I had to wipe the mud off my face before I could see anything. What I saw astonished me. What I assumed was the Queen was on her knees in front of the rebel witch. The Queen looked terrible, no hair, clothes in shambles, thin and old. Like really old. Really, really old. Great great great grandmother old. I sure as hell wouldn’t have recognized her if the rebel witch hadn’t been there. I know the Queen wanted to handle this herself but she couldn’t have expected it all to go so far, could she? I brought my rifle up, aiming for the rebel’s head, but I hesitated, unsure of what to do.

That’s when she dropped to one knee, hands out, reaching toward the Queen, who had started to glow all over, a kind of blue green color. I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t know who was winning. Then, in an instant, it happened. The Queen’s body sucked in the blue green glow and then it blew back out. For a fraction of a second, I thought that she was turned inside out but that was crazy.

What was left kneeling on the ground was a gnome like old man, even older than the Queen looked before. I’ve never seen a frailer human being in my life. I thought the rebel witch had done some kind of transport type thing, trading people but then I saw that the old man was wearing the same scraps of the Queens’ gown. The whole thing was fucking unbelievable.

The old guy slowly fell over, landing on his side. The rebel witch crawled over to the guy, leaned down near his ear and looked like she said something, then pushed herself up and started to walk away. In my heart, I knew the Queen was dead.

Time for the other witch to die.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Like an idiot, I thought everybody had left the courtyard. I sure as hell would have when the lightning started zapping down. I didn’t have a lot of control over it. Dumb luck is better than none at all.

The first shot missed, but not by much, whizzing right by my left ear. The next five were dead on target but I managed to deflect them by adjusting the density of the air around me. If the shooter had been closer, that trick wouldn’t have worked. I run back behind the stage, looking for some kind of cover. After I reach it and turn around, I see him, charging towards me. I haven’t recovered enough to do anything to him. There’s a sharp, single crack and a fountain of mud pops in the air two feet in front of the gunman. He stops and fires an automatic burst into the air around him. There’s a second crack and another splash in the mud in front of the gunman. It’s got to be Johnathyn.

“That’s your second warning shot!” I shout. “You better leave before someone gets hurt!”

“You killed her!” he screams. “You don’t think I’m gonna let you get away with that, do you?!”

“Maybe not, but do you want to join her?”

“If you could stop me, you’d have done something by now. I know you witches have to recharge after a big spell. If I’m ever gonna get you, now’s the time!”

He peppers the stage with gunfire, trying to force me out. He stops to swap out the ammo clip when there’s the third, sharp crack. It knocks the shooter down to the ground, on his back, where he stays, not moving, gun about five decileagues away in a deep mud puddle. I carefully edge out from behind the stage and nervously approach him. As I get closer, I can see that the rain is mixing with his blood, forming red, muddy pools. Finally, I get a good look at what’s left of his face.

Even on a good day, there’s nothing I could have done about the big hole in his forehead

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Everyone felt the drop in their magic powers. One of them has died. It would be nice to know which one but it’s too late for me. I am committed and that commitment just became harder. Both the mother and child began to stir, muffled moans rising from their scared throats. I struggle to keep them quiet but it is getting more difficult.

Dierdra is in the larger room, checking with the others. The ones who had been working on the weather were now helping the injured. After the initial attack, the Queen’s Guard disappeared. Apparently, word had quickly spread that witches had taken over the Palace and none of them were interested in challenging us. I don’t know how many people had been captured or what was being done with them but I will find out, once I am done watching over these two. Dierdra enters the room.

“I assume you know.”

“Only that one is dead.”

“It was the Queen. Alexia triumphed but is greatly fatigued. I sent Silva and Pamela out to see if there are any more injured to be brought back here.”

“What does it matter? If they are in this building, they are supporters of Opulessa and their welfare is no concern of ours.”

“You mean like those two?” She is pointing at my patients, who are only here because of what I did.

“That is not what I meant.”

“But it is what you said, Beckwith. Any injured are citizens of our world. If we are to have peace, then we all must be treated alike, bury our differences here and now!”

“That will never happen, Dierdra. Too many have been killed or injured for there to be forgiveness.”

“So what will you tell that woman’s family when they come to see you? Will you ask for their forgiveness? Will you blame her for living next to the Palace? Will you tell the father of that child that he is free to kill you in vengeance for your attack on his family?”

“I did not attack this woman!”

“Not directly, but your recklessness caused them injury just the same. I do not know if Alexia will be able to save them now but you must keep them alive until she arrives.”

“I … I am not certain … there is so much pain … the child suffers so.”

“Then you must take the pain away.”

“I have tried to suppress it but now, with less power …”

“Not suppress. You must accept their pain. Take it upon yourself.”

“Are you MAD?! Look at them! The pain must be unbearable!”

“Then help them bear it, Beckwith. For, if they die, you know your fate.”

I did. The final votes had come in. Unanimous.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

The rain had slacked off a bit. It was still coming down but not the deluge it was. The heavy part of the front seemed to be moving off. There was still lightning and thunder in the air but it was just occasional and further east.

The Courtyard was a muddy, sloppy mess. I wade over to where Opulessa’s body lay. What little remained seemed to be almost dissolving in the rain. It was more than a hundred years too late but nature was finally reclaiming its own. I heard a door bang open behind me. Spinning around, slipping and almost falling on my face, I saw it was Johnathyn, slogging toward me, still carrying his long hunting rifle.

“Are you well, Alexia?”

“Yeah, fine.”

He grabbed my arm, making me wince in pain. “This is not ‘fine’. We must find Dierdra, immediately.”

I carefully work my injured arm out of his grip. “I’m not perfect but I’ll be okay. Dierdra’s probably got her hands full and I need to get in there. I thought I said no killing.”

“It would appear the soldier did not receive that message.”

I look down at the body, his lifeless eyes, blood still leaking from the enormous wound caused by the .50 cal ball that hit him. It smashed his skull and took out the back of his head. He wouldn’t back off. Stupid bastard was loyal to the end. We shouldn’t have to lose people like that. Still, he wasn’t going to stop trying to kill me.

“You’re right,” I sigh. “Another useless killing. I appreciate the warning shots, Johnathyn.”

“What warning shots? It was raining like the piss of the Gods. I could barely see anything from up there. You are lucky I was able to strike him at all.”

Dumb luck. Again. I wonder if there really is someone out there, watching over me? Better not test it too often. He or she might be on a ten minute break or something when I really need the help.

“I thought you were supposed to be this great marksman, ‘Can’t Miss Tyber.’”

“Yes, from fifty decileagues in good weather, not from the top of that tower in the middle of a thunderstorm … do you hear that?”

“Hear what ? Yeah, I do.” It’s the voices of people, yelling for help. Hard to hear over the sound of the fading storm. Good catch, Johnathyn. “Where are they coming from?”

We both look around. He points towards a set of large double doors with normal sized doors built in. “The stables, I believe.”

“Let’s go,” I say. He grabs my bad arm, making me wince.

“Sorry. Is this safe?”

I flex the arm. “Don’t know. They’re calling for help. Can we ignore that?”

He sighs. “Apparently not.” He picks up the rifle dropped by the dead soldier and finishes popping the clip into place. “Please, Alexia, let me lead.”

“What ever you say, Dead Eye.”

We hurry as best we can to the large doors. Peering in through low windows, neither of us can see anything suspicious inside and the voices are louder. We pause long enough for me to grab the handle and throw open the smaller door, Johnathyn charges through and I immediately follow.

The smell leaves no doubt that it’s a stable. At least it’s dry and the footing’s better. Sort of. It’s not very bright, just a couple of lanterns. The horses are still restless from the thunderstorm but they’re all in their stalls. No sign of any workers or guards. We can hear voices and pounding on a door at the far end of the building. We look at each other. He hefts the gun and shrugs so we head for the door.

It’s locked from our side and I don’t see any key hanging from a hook nearby. Johnathyn will have to shoot it out. Or maybe …

I pound on the door with my good hand. “STEP AWAY FROM THE DOOR!” I shout. Concentrating, I punch the lock through the door. Johnathyn is impressed.

“It is good to see you are feeling better. Now step back and do not follow too closely.”

He slowly pushes the door open with the muzzle of the gun, crouching and stepping forward into the doorway. He turns left, then right, then steps into the room. I follow.

It is smaller and darker than the other room, no lanterns and a few skylights in the high ceiling. I conjure up a ball of light and float it up high into the air, illuminating the space. The place is a smaller version of where we just were, same stalls, same smell but this time it’s not just horses in the stalls, it’s people. Men and women. Mostly men. All naked and filthy. Some old, some young. There’s a few horses, cows, pigs and chickens mixed in with the people, but that’s not the strange thing.

A few of the people are outside of the stalls, just staring at us. Some of them are still in the stalls but either unconscious or like catatonic; squatted down, holding themselves and rocking back and forth. Still others are acting just like the animals they are mixed with, wallowing in mud with pigs, scratching at the straw with chickens, or their heads in the feed buckets with the cows or horses.

“What is this place?” whispers Johnathyn.

“Damned if I know,” I whisper back.

A man shakily steps forward. “Damned is correct, Alexia.”

I recognize him from the meetings at Patron Miller’s house. “Bickle Rholls? Is that you?”

“Yes, Alexia, it is. Have you beaten Opulessa?”

“Yeah, I have. She’s dead . Or he is. Depends on your point of view.”

Several of the people who had been staring at us collapse in tears, some holding others up while they cry. Rholls grabs the wall of a stall but stays on his feet.

“What goes on here, Rholls?” Johnathyn demands, unnerved by the sight of all these people acting so strangely. It freaked me out too.

“We were prisoners of the Queen,” he replies.

“What about them?” Johnathyn pointed the muzzle at two men and a woman, grunting and snorting while lying with several hogs. If I didn’t know better, I’d say one of the hogs was trying to fuck one of the men and he wasn’t fighting it. In fact, he might actually be encouraging the hog. Rholls just shook his head sadly.

“Some of us have been prisoners longer than others.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

We decided we couldn’t leave the door to that room unlocked, not the way some of them were behaving. Zaphod help them if they got outside. Those that were conscious and alert left with us. Johnathyn found a heavy timber and used it to wedge the door shut. Taking one last look around before shutting the door, I have to admit I’ve got no idea whatsoever to do about them. Rholls told us more about what went on in that room. Any regret I felt about what happened to that bitch Opulessa quickly evaporated. What kind of person could even think about things like that, let alone do it to other human beings? I found some feed sacks piled in a corner and whipped up some rudimentary robes for the prisoners. They’ll do until we can get them some real clothes. As we slopped through the courtyard toward the east wing of the Palace, it suddenly struck me. Others had to know about that room. There was feed in the buckets, the crap had to be removed, water brought in. You could be damn sure Opulessa didn’t do all that, not even with magic. I told Johnathyn what I suspected as we walked along.

“You are likely correct, Alexia. Keeping a stable running is hard work.”

“I thought so. Anyone who knew about that place and did nothing is a dead man. No trial, no jury. Dead on the spot. No, no, if I knew how to do it, they’d spend a few weeks as residents and then they’re dead.”

Johnathyn reaches out, gently taking my arm and slowing me down.

“I know you are upset right now. I am also. Those were atrocities beyond description and belief but what about your Truth and Reconciliation Commission?”

“Some things are simply unforgivable, Johnathyn.”

“Are you the one to decide that?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have been quick to point out that, once you are done here, you are returning to your world. Are you not done here?”

I pull up short. He’s right. There’s some things to finish up but not much. I could be out of here in a week or two. Back home in New York. The possibility is almost frightening. I start walking again, crossing the threshold back onto dry ground and out of the rain. I turn down a large hallway and head for where the other witches are waiting.

“You’re right. It’s not my place. They’re lucky it isn’t because, if it was, I would have had every one of them hunted down and … hung … what the hell happened?”

There are at least thirty people, mostly men and women but some kids, all of them burned somewhere on their bodies. Arms, legs, backs, chests, combinations of all of the above. This shouldn’t have happened. Dierdra hurries up to me, hugging me briefly.

“Thank Zaphod you are alive! I have heard what you did. Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! I have many questions for you but there is no time now. Can you work? Have your powers been restored?”

I used up a little magic with the lock, light ball and the robes but, now that I was back with the coven, I was feeling better. Nowhere near what I was but better.

“Thanks. Happy to see all of you alive and well. And busy. I’m good, at least for awhile. What went wrong? How did all these people …”

“Beckwith!” Dierdra spat. “She threw the floor drums into the sky and crushed them, filling the air with floor dust just before the bombs detonated.”

“Oh. My. God. All that air and fuel. That’s what we saw.”

“Exactly.”

“Did she know?”

“She did. She did not plan on the cloud of flour being blown away from the Palace and into a group of homes nearby. You have seen the results.”

“Where is she? Is she alive?”

“She survived. I have her tending to the two most seriously injured. A mother and young child. I am surprised that they have lasted this long.”

“Take me to them.”

Dierdra grabbed my hand and lead me to a small room of to the side. It looked like a storage room of some kind. There were two cots and a chair stuffed in, with two badly burned bodies on the cots and Beckwith, eyes closed and face drained of blood, her mouth tightly clenched shut, the fingers of both hands digging into the palms of her trembling hands.

“What’s wrong with her?” I ask, pointing at Beckwith.

“She is absorbing some of their pain.”

“We can do that?”

“Yes. It takes training that you have not had. It is a Healer skill to make a patient more comfortable while another Healer attempts to cure the ill. We all felt the level of magic drop when Opulessa died. It caused us some problems.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Much preferable to the other alternative. We rejoiced at the news of your victory and eventual return to us. What do you wish to do?”

Looking at the two victims of Beckwith’s stupidity, my first thought is “Get me the Hell away from this disaster” but it’s as much my mistake as hers. I should have known she would have tried something like this but I needed her power, her strength of will. I took a risk and busted. No dumb luck this time.

“Okay. Johnathyn!” I shout, turning back to the main room. He’s at my side instantly. “Figure out if any of our friends from the stable are well enough to help you. If they’re too shaky, leave them here but it would be nice if there were two or three who were steady enough to safely hold a gun and not shoot someone. You need to go to the Mess and find out if those guards are still enchanted. If so, they can stay there, if not, you need to collect their guns and ammo. Tell them we do not intend to hurt them, just send them home. If they want to know when, pretty damn fast. Also, see if you can find the prisoners some decent clothes somewhere. And don’t get shot. I need you back here, safe and sound. So does Lee.”

He touches my arm. “As you wish. Do not blame yourself, it was inevitable. You did what you could.” He hurries off. One job done.

“Who are those people?” asks Dierdra.

“Prisoners. Most of them are from Patron Miller’s group. There are others … but that’s for later. We need some triage here.”

“What is that?”

“I need to know what patients are stable and can wait, which ones are stable but need help, which ones are not stable and need help right away but can survive and …” I look over at the mother and daughter on the cot “… which ones are beyond help.”

Beckwith moans loudly and grabs my arm with her sweaty hand. “Do not abandon them!” she hisses through clenched teeth. “I have not kept them alive so long for you to pass judgment on them now!”

“It is not Alexia who passes judgment. You did so with your dangerous actions!” says Dierdra. Beckwith’s hand slide off my arm, returning to its original, trembling position.

“Yes! Yes, it was me! I did it. It … aahhhhhh … was my doing … but they should not die … for my failings. Do not abandon … us, Alexia.”

I lean down near her ear. “No one’s died on my watch when I can do something about it. I don’t plan on starting now. You keep them alive until I can get back.”

Dierdra and I walk away. “Alexia, surely, you do not intend to …”

“Triage, Dierdra, just as I told you. If Beckwith can keep them alive, they’ll get everything I got left. Send others to help if they become available. Have someone get me my computer right away.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

After speaking with all of them, I determined that four of the ex-prisoners were of sound enough mind to be of assistance to me. One of them, Jeremiah Merkel, was familiar with this area of the Palace and he was able to lead us to the storage area for the guards. There we found extra uniforms and weapons.

They exchanged their robes for new uniforms and arms. We were about to leave to meet the guards when it occurred to me that our men and theirs now looked alike. I pick up one of the discarded robes and tear several strips off the bottom, first cutting them with a knife. I hand them out to the four men with me.

“Tie these around your biceps. They will help distinguish you from the other guards should there be trouble.”

They all do as I ask and we are off to find out what was happening. As we near the door, I hold up and hand Rholls my gun.

“It is best that I not appear threatening at first. Hold this for me.”

I position them out of sight around the corner then push the door open just enough to peek into the room. It appears that most of the men remain, though I cannot see all about the room. I finish pushing the door open and step in.

All the men appear in various stages of anguish. The one called Ridgeway approaches me, then pushes me. I try to stay where I am.

“Where’s the Queen?” he demands.

What should I say? He is clearly upset. They may know that things have changed but they do not know how or why. Alexia has taught me that, when in doubt, answer a question with a question.

“Why do you wish to know?”

“You were with her earlier today.” He pulls his hand gun from its holster strapped to his thigh. “I want to know so that I can blow her head off, that’s why.”

“Do you think you can find her? She is a witch. What do you want of her?”

“I want to see her because I remember! Remember all the sick, twisted things she made me do. We ALL can remember.” Several men have picked up their guns.

“So … you wish her dead?”

“Yeah. Dead.”

“And what of your employer? And this world’s government? Do you believe that they will all stand by and do nothing while you attempt to … do what, exactly?”

Another man approaches us. “He’s right, Captain. Colonel Willis wouldn’t let us get away with it. That man’s a true believer if ever there was one.”

“This Colonel Willis you speak of, was he here when the Queen and I visited?”

“Nah, he was out in the Courtyard on the stage.”

Interesting. Perhaps it is time to provide some information.

“The woman who visited you in this room was not Queen Opulessa. She was the witch Alexia pretending to be Queen Opulessa. Our purpose was to keep you all out of harm’s way while Alexia and Opulessa fought. Alexia won. It is her desire that you leave this place, returning to your base to await further developments.”

“What about Colonel Willis? He won’t put up with shit like that,” says Ridgeway.

“Was Colonel Willis the only member of your group not in this room?”

“The only one stationed here. We’ve got other people elsewhere.”

“Then I believe your Colonel Willis is also dead. If you wish, I can send someone with one of your people to show you where he fell.”

Ridgeway signals with his hand for the man who had stepped forward to go and check. I hold up my hand to stop him.

“Without the weapon, if you please. That was why I was sent, to collect your weapons and escort you from the Palace.”

Those who have weapons clutch them tightly. Those who didn’t quickly pick one up. Many are pointing theirs at me. Ridgeway places his hand gun near my face.

“There is no fucking way we’re disarming. You think you can take ’em? Give it your best shot.”

I slowly reach up and push his hand away from my face.

“I have armed men outside, equipped as all of you are. We can have what I believe you call a ‘fire fight’ in this small room, which would leave many dead and most everyone else injured. I do not have as many men as you so, it is likely you would win. For the moment. What would happen next would be extremely unpleasant.” I hold up my hand, displaying my ring. “I am married to Alexia. She is my wife and I am her husband. We have a child. Should I die or even be injured, her rage would be epic. None of you would survive her wrath. Remember, she killed Opulessa. That is the measure of her power. In addition, there are twelve other witches on our side, all just about a hundred decileages away from where we stand. They would also show no mercy.”

I step back and raise my voice so that all can plainly hear me. “You have my promise that none of you will be injured if you cooperate with me. Fail to do so and I will not be responsible for your fates. It is your choice. Choose now.”

One of the men in the back pulls back on the lever on his gun, making a loud click-clacking sound. I believe it loads a shell into the firing chamber.

“Husband, huh?” he sneers. “Seems like we got ourselves a hostage.”

“Where would you go?” I ask. “This is not your world. There is no place for you to hide. We are sending you back to your compatriots to await transportation back to your world. Should you cause my wife trouble, she need only snap her fingers and you are all transformed into mindless beasts. I assume you all know about the smaller stables hidden in the larger stables off the courtyard.”

From the shared looks, I would say that I am correct. “Alexia is more powerful than Opulessa. She will have her way, no matter the protest.” I lean in closer to Ridgeway. “As her husband, I know only too well.”

“A real bitch, eh’?”

“Of the highest order. You have my promise of safe passage.”

He considers what I have said for a moment. “What if you’re lying to us?”

“Then the lucky ones will die. Should I need to call for her help, she can strike from where she is right now. You will never even see her. You have heard the story that she decapitated a man from half a league away? It is true; I was there when it happened. Took us hours to clean up the mess it made.” I look around the room, inspecting the walls and ceiling. “I assume the blood would wash right off these stone walls. Lucky thing.” I turn to face Ridgeway. “What is your answer, Captain?”

He stares at me for a moment, then turns to face his men, his eyes slowly passing from man to man, looking for what I cannot guess but I can feel the tension increase as time moves on. Eventually he turns back to face me, sighs and gives me his handgun, handle first.

“Just get us out of this God damn freak show alive.”

I place the gun in my belt. “You have chosen wisely, Captain. If your Colonel Willis had been equally as level headed, he would still be alive. It is best to not trifle with powerful beings beyond our understanding.”

He nods his head in agreement. “Witches.”

“I was speaking of women in general but it also applies to witches.”

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

By the time I return to the little room, Beckwith was spent but mother and daughter were still alive. It now was my job to keep them that way. Mine and Dierdra’s. Leila leads Beckwith away and Correia replaces her for the moment.

“Just like before, let’s get them to the kitchen,” I say with more confidence than I possess.

“Alexia,” whispers Correia. “How will you ever …”

“We’ve done this already, just on a smaller scale. It’ll just take longer, That’s all.” I smile at her.

“If you say so,” she answers without conviction.

“I do say so. If you’re not up to the challenge …”

She looks shocked, as if I had slapped her. “No. I am. I will not fail you!”

Dierdra leans in. “It is we who must not fail them. All is as ready as it can be, Alexia.”

“Then let’s move.”

Steinvild had come off security, trading with Sarah and each of us took a corner of the cot with the woman on it. Working together, we each slowly levitated a corner, steadying it with our hands and carefully move through the room toward the kitchen. This part of the Palace had a rudimentary infirmary, enough for typical small emergencies but the big medical facility was at the Winthrop Group compound. If it was too much for them, the victim was sent back home for expert care.

All I had to offer was my trusty laptop.

We had turned the kitchen into a makeshift operating room, as clean as we could scrub it. So far, it had been adequate for the injuries we treated. Most of the other patients had already gone back home with interesting stories to tell. A few were kept in the infirmary because their burns were too deep to do a skin graft and expect it to take all at once. There were going to need to be several layers laid down over time. Of course, if things go well, I can speed the whole process up quite a bit, reducing exposure to germs but these two are a whole other level of trouble.

I first need to clean out all the burned areas, removing the burnt flesh and clothes from the good skin. The next thing is to disinfect and the third is to find some intact skin, remove a small patch, make it grow and transplant onto a damaged area that had been prepped to accept the transplant. Rinse and repeat. About a couple hundred times.

Because I can get inside the wound, it’s pretty easy for me to get right up in the injured area and tell what has to go and what skin can be saved, along with internal damage like lungs, heart, eyes, whatever.

Piece of cake.

It takes over three hours to treat both of them. The worst is over and I think we kept them both knocked out, so little or no pain. Now we need to avoid infection and keep adding layers of skin. With luck, they’ll be home in a week. After moving the cots into the infirmary, I thanked and congratulated everyone on a job well done.

Johnathyn was waiting for me when I came out. He bent down and gave me a brief but intense kiss, the kind that leaves you longing for more.

“Whhooo. Hello to you too. How’d it go with the guards?”

“Just as we had hoped. They are all on a wagon headed back to the Winthrop Group compound, along with the body of their leader. Without their weapons.”

“Wonderful! How did you pull that one off?”

“I threatened them with the baddest assed witch on the planet.”

“That’s baddest ass. Whatever, as long as it worked. I can be bad cop to your good cop any day. What did you do with the guns and ammo?”

He pulled a light chain from around his neck, on which hung a key.

“There are only two keys, I obviously have one, the other is for you.”

“Hang on to it for a bit longer. I don’t seem to have any pockets in this outfit.”

He snakes a arm around my waist, hugging me close, resting his hand on my butt. “I know that you are very tired …”

“I’m not THAT tired.”

“Yes. You are. I am leaving shortly to return to the farm to pick up Lee.”

“Johnathyn! It’s not safe yet!”

“It is safe enough and she can be of help, taking care of the injured.”

“They look bad and the next couple of days are not going to be pretty.”

“So much the better. Best to see the consequences of war with clear eyes, don’t you think? Besides, she will worry more about us if we leave her at the farm.”

I yawn widely, holding it for several milicycles. Yeah, I’m not tired. “It’s your call, Johnathyn, but take some help with you, just in case.”

He kisses me lightly on the forehead. “As you wish, my Queen.”

I punch him none too softly in the chest. “Cut that out!”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

We take shifts, keeping the injured as pain free as possible. There are six people left, four that will probably go home in the morning and then the woman and her daughter. They are all asleep and I want them to stay that way.

It’s 2:00 in the morning. Silva, Bellah and Britanna are watching the perimeter along with some of the people we found in the stables. I still have no idea what to do with the ones who are in bad shape. Where’s a head doctor when you need one?

There’s been a little activity by some of the Queen’s Guard but it was disorganized and the girls took care of it. We got a report from the driver of the wagon who took the Winthrop Guards back to back to their base. There was a bunch of the Queen’s Guard hanging around outside and he thought he saw First Minister Dupree there too. It would make sense for them to gather there. I’m going to have to deal with them before they get a chance to get organized. Right now, I’ve got patients to take care of.

I took the woman and daughter myself. I’ve got more energy than the rest of the coven and these two will need it. What I wouldn’t give for a little bit of morphine right now. At least the skin grafts seem to be okay. I was able to stimulate the undamaged skin to grow quickly but it stressed their systems and I can’t do it again until they get a chance to heal and recover Even with magic, deep burns don’t heal overnight. I hear a soft knocking at the Infirmary door. I turn and look. It’s Silva with a young man, twisting a hat in his hands.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“This is Marteen Cantell. He thinks that the woman and her child are his family.”

Great. I wasn’t looking forward to this. I stand up, smoothing my skirt. I’d changed out of the cat suit. It was too distracting. For everybody. Someone found a servants dress that fit well enough.

“They look worse than they are,” I say, trying to lighten the blow. “They’re almost past the danger period. It’s just a matter of time and they both will be as good as they were before the fire.”

He nervously edges past me, keeping his eyes averted until he reaches their bedside. I heard him gasp, then begin to sob.

“I-I-I am not-not certain. They-ey look so …”

Silva scoops a plain gold ring off the table next to the woman and hands it to him.

“Here is her ring.”

“Thank-thank you.”

She steps back away from the man as he tightly holds the ring in his hand.

“What good does that do?” I whisper to her. “It’s a plain gold band, looks just like mine. How could he tell if it’s his wife’s?”

“These are not ordinary rings, they are first anniversary rings. If the love is true, the rings know it. They are drawn to each other. He will know.”

He stands next to the woman, searching for something recognizable in her burned, swollen face. Slowly, he nods his head, tears in his eyes. “Yes … it is her … both of them,” he sobs. “My darling Marta, my dearest Codii. How could this happen to such innocents?”

Now it’s my turn.

“Mr. Cantell, it was an accident. No one intended to harm either your wife or little Codii. I take full responsibility …”

“No.”

We all turn to see that Beckwith has entered the room. She strides right up to Cantell. “It is I who am responsible.”

Cantell appears confused. “I do not understand, how …”

I jump in. “Beckwith here has spent the most time caring for your family. She’s spent hours keeping them as pain free as possible. She is the one most responsible for them being alive today.”

Cantell falls to his knees in front of her, grabbing and repeatedly kissing her hands. “Thank you! Bless you, Mistress Beckwith! We cannot repay your efforts on our behalf! I am eternally in your debt.”

He returns to kissing her hands. Beckwith is shocked and tries to pull her hands free from his intense grip. I quickly step to her side.

“Now, Beckwith, be gracious. You deserve his thanks.”

“But … I …” she protests.

“Forgiveness comes only through me,” I whisper in her ear. “You’re not there yet.”

She scowls at me but doesn’t say anything, letting Cantell continue declaring his gratitude for all that she had done. The little girl makes a quiet, high pitched moan. Cantell is kneeling at her bedside in milicycles.

“Is there something wrong?” he anxiously asks.

“No,” I answer. “She’s fine, well, as fine as can be expected. I won’t lie to you, Mr. Cantell. Neither of them are ready to go home right now and won’t be for days but I’m certain that they’ll both walk out of here completely whole. I will not rest until they do.”

Cantell continues to look at his daughter for several milicycles, then sighs. “Are you the witch who defeated Opulessa?” he asks, almost too quietly to hear.

“Yes, I am.”

He pushes up, using the cot to help him get upright. He’s still looking down at his injured family.

“My family was hurt during that fight?”

“Yes, they were.”

“And you claim it was an accident?”

“I don’t claim, it was an accident.”

Now he looks me in the eye, standing as tall as he can, chest out and chin up. “Then I suggest, Mistress, that you be more careful in using your powers in the future.”

Both Silva and Beckwith gasp. I’m not from around here but I know when I’m being dissed. He’s got to be very brave or very stupid.

“I understand, Mr. Cantell. I’ll take your suggestion under serious consideration.”

He relaxes ever so slightly, happy to have gotten away with it. “That is all I can ask. May I stay with my family?”

I bring Beckwith over with a wave of my finger. “Beckwith will see to finding you some place to stay, along with your baby.”

He bows towards me. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Beckwith hustles him out of the room. Silva slides quietly next to me.

“I am certain that he was distraught when he said what he did, Alexia.”

“Yeah, he was, but he was also right. Can’t get pissed at a guy when he’s right.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

T-bone steak, medium rare, about 10 ounces. I never ate anything like that at supper when I lived in New York. Now I’m having it for lunch. Of course, when I was in New York, I was watching my figure. You have to hand it to the U.S. military. When they deploy overseas, they always bring America with them. Now the Winthrop Group has gone one better. They brought America to another world.

Once you cross the wire into their compound, you might as well be in Nebraska. ESPN on the televisions, one week delay, of course. The latest movies on BluRay. An ice cream bar at every meal. Fresh vegetables even in the winter. Texas, Carolina, Chicago and St. Louis barbecue. I put on at least ten pounds when I’m on assignment. There’s a complete gym and steam room on base. Winthrop may be responsible but the Consortium is paying for it.

I’d just sat down to enjoy my meal when Dupree comes in and stomps his way to me, his pet Rachet on his heels. I sigh. There is no peace in this job.

“First Minister. What can I do for you?”

He sits down opposite me, Dilgar standing silently behind him.

“You can order your soldiers to join mine so that we may retake the Palace and return to power, White! It has been four days! If we wait any longer, it may be too late!”

“Why do you need my men? There’s less than a hundred and, frankly, most of them aren’t really interested in helping.”

“They are soldiers! They will do as they are ordered!”

“They are mercenaries, First Minister, and they don’t jump simply because I tell them to. Most of them are still very upset about the way they were treated by the Queen.”

“Of which I was completely unaware and am equally upset, Mr. White.”

Bullshit! He knew, they all knew. Hell, even I knew something was up, I just didn’t know what and honestly didn’t care, as long as the contract terms were met. As long as deliveries were made in full and on time.

Now that’s blown to Hell.

“I’m sure that your very upset, First Minister. The question is, over what? I may be misinformed but, historically, isn’t this exactly how you get a new Queen. Someone comes along and defeats the old Queen. The Queen is dead, long live the Queen, that sort of thing?”

“Yes, but I had hoped we had outgrown assassination as a way to change Queens.”

“Really? What was the new way you all had agreed to follow?”

Dupree gives me a ‘go to Hell’ look. “These are things we do not discuss with outsiders.”

The politician’s version of ‘Fuck Off’.

“That’s unfortunate, particularly when you’re asking for help from ‘outsiders’. Your choice of course, First Minister.”

The business man’s version of “Eat shit and like it”.

“It is unlikely that you will be able to continue your mining operations with Alexia on the throne.”

Translation: “Better the devil you know.”

“Certainly the contract would need to be renegotiated but reasonable people can reach a reasonable arrangement.”

Translation: “Everyone has their price.”

“Alexia should not even be here. She is from your world. She is not even a ‘she’. Do you not feel some obligation to fix this problem?”

That’s the first straight forward thing he’s said. Must be desperate.

“To be honest, First Minister, I do. Unfortunately, I don’t see how our involvement is going to change anything. Assuming you do defeat her, there is no one to replace the old Queen. You can certainly find another witch, Alexia has at least a dozen helping her, but whoever it is will not be as dominant as Opulessa was. You’re in for years, if not decades of instability. If you don’t defeat her, then she assumes the throne and is upset with the Consortium for backing you. Neither situation benefits us. We prefer stability over all other options. Nothing you can do will give us that stability. Only backing Alexia gives us that possibility.”

“You do not think that your participation in the plan to kill her family may not have her thinking twice about joining forces with you?”

“It very well may but it was you who demanded we do so once the rebel plan was discovered. She’ll be more interested in you than us. Her interest can be fatal. The woman controls lightning for God’s sake!”

“I have seen more from Opulessa. So you refuse to help us?”

“I don’t really see what we can do to help you that doesn’t potentially hurt the Consortium.”

“Can you not see beyond your own avarice?”

“I’m a company man, Dupree. So to speak. How do you plan to kill her anyway? She seems to be a pretty tough cookie.”

“We can send enough men to overwhelm her. It takes only one to succeed.”

How imaginative. I’m sure he’ll have a lot of volunteers for this job. I can just hear him now. ‘Men, she may kill a hundred of you, that’s why we need a hundred and one. Let me know how it all works out.’ The brute force method of conflict resolution.

“You realize, Dupree, that if you fail, you’re signing your own death warrant.”

“I am likely doomed anyway. Being First Minister marks me for death. No First Minister has survived the death of his Queen. Add to that, my involvement in the death of the witch’s family. It comes down to me or her, and if she kills me, she will come for you next. It is in your personal interest to provide me with all assistance possible.”

“There’s where your wrong, Dupree. You are stuck here, I am not. Even if she surrounds this post, we’ve still got an enormous back door. You’re welcome to join us.” The look of horror that he was unable to suppress was my answer. “I see not. As you wish. We can be back to my world in less than ten minutes. The entire staff is already here; ready to move at a moments notice.”

“She could follow you.”

“Not with our equipment she won’t. Password coded. Besides, over there she returns to Alex Thompson, ordinary schlub. Not much of a threat.”

He pushes away from my table and stands up. “So, we have come to a parting of the ways.”

I stand up too. “Not necessarily. If she comes here, I can act as a negotiator, try to work out some kind of deal.”

He gives me a tight smile. “I believe that my best interests are served without your help.”

I shrug. “Suit yourself.” I hate for things to end on a bad note. “You and your men are free to stay here, for what that’s worth.”

“Thank you, but no. Once we can get organized, it is best that we depart for the interior of the country and set up our own government.

Going the guerilla route. Guess it’s worked for some over the years.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Johnathyn and Leeanna returned without incident several days ago. Lee dismounted and immediately ran to find me, hugging me fiercely when we met. Her father had told her all about our exploits, filtering out things not appropriate for young ears but she used her imagination to fill in a lot of the blanks. She wasn’t far off. It’s scary when someone knows you well enough to do that.

I put her right to work in the infirmary, mostly because it was easier to keep an eye on her there. After being initially grossed out, she jumped right in, taking a special interest in taking care of Codii Cantell and her baby brother, Emery. Codii has recovered more quickly than her mother, primarily because young children are still growing and developing naturally. I don’t have to push her that much harder. Once Codii was conscious, Lee practically took over, becoming more like a big sister to both children. Marteen Cantell appreciated her help because it gave him more time to stay with his wife. If that thing Silva said about the rings was true, then they did their job. Marteen was devoted to Marta, doing everything he could to help her. They both had other family members who were in and out a lot. The last couple of days, Marta has been our last patient and she’s well on the way to recovery.

I may have been keeping her longer than necessary because it allowed me to put off the next job, going after Redmond Dupree and the rest of his people. Almost immediately after Opulessa’s death, people started showing up, offering to help, even to join up. We picked up a few more witches, one Forty Seven from the east that Dierdra had heard of who was visiting family nearby when we attacked. Beckwith wasn’t happy but kept her peace, not wanting to upset me any more than she already had. The background level of magic was getting stronger, not like before Opulessa died but it was noticeable.

More importantly, people other than witches started to volunteer. I left most of that to Dierdra to organize but she gave me regular reports about the numbers. I told her that I wasn’t interested in people who were switching sides, not yet at least. That can come later. People, particularly women, who had been kept down, who wanted to rise up and become someone, that was fine. We didn’t need a bunch of soldiers either. That may, regrettably, come later too but not yet.

Steinvild and Emlilly were put in charge of Intelligence and they immediately began getting reports from the countryside about Dupree and the old government taking refuge at the Winthrop Group headquarters not far from Glory, which made a certain amount of sense, particularly if they were planning a counter attack of some kind. The girls actually did a couple flyovers to check things out and there was no response of any kind, which was good news. Frankly, I was expecting drone attacks by now.

Silva and Correia took on the job of getting the Palace repaired, at least the damage that we did. Some of the other areas, in particular Opulessa’s quarters, went downhill quickly after she died. I think it was because she was using her magic to maintain some stuff that went poof when her powers were depleted by her attacks on me and the lightning strikes. They are going to leave those repairs for later, if ever.

Beckwith took the job suitable to her personality. Internal Security. It galled me that we had to do it but Dierdra convinced me it was necessary. Too many unknowns, too many people offering to help, too many potential agendas. We needed someone to sort it all out. I also wanted to know who knew about Opulessa’s special stables and any other similar activities.

Turns out that the stables were kind of unspoken common knowledge among both the staff and the government. No one would admit to specific knowledge but the rumors were rampant. Unfortunately, the rumors didn’t touch the reality. Pamela and Olga accepted the impossible job of helping the survivors from that unspeakable place. Most of the people from Patron Miller’s group have recovered fairly quickly and well. Bickle Rholls has been an immense help to us all. Unfortunately, that doesn’t include Patron Miller himself. He was an egotistical buffoon but something happened in that place that utterly broke him. He hasn’t said what it was and no one is pushing him but it had to be pretty awful.

Johnathyn. I can’t say enough about Johnathyn. Any task I give him, he does. Any question I ask, he gets the answer. Any advice I ask for, he gives, whether I like the advice or not. And at night, when I drag myself to bed, he offers comfort and solace, plus, if we’re both not beat right into the ground, some unbelievably great sex, though I like to think I give as well as I get. I mean, I do know what a man likes.

The day has finally come that Marta Cantell has recovered enough to go home. Her hair has regrown but it’s short. Her skin is soft and white, not scarred and burned. She asked me to take her to the front gate where her husband and family were waiting for her. She was still a little unsteady due to all that time in bed so I agreed. As we walk through the halls, I notice that there are fewer people around than usual but it is near lunch time.

“You sure you don’t want to stay for lunch? I think it’s some kind of spring vegetable soup and fruit along with cheese and black bread but don’t hold me to that.”

“No thank you, Mistress.”

“Look, I’ve told you, call me Alexia. You’ve been through hell because of me and I’m not your superior.”

“It does not seem proper, Mistress. As for my misfortune being your fault, I know the truth. It was not your doing but it was you who restored me.”

“I wasn’t the only one. Lots of different people had a hand in it, including Marteen. I think you’ve got a winner with that one.”

“If I may be so bold, as do you with Johnathyn.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that. Guess we’re both lucky in love.”

When we reach the courtyard, the ground is dry but uneven. I offer her my arm and she takes it, slowly walking together over the rough ground towards the main entrance. It’s a beautiful, sunny, late spring day. You can smell the flowers in the air, though there are none in the courtyard. It’s still a mess from the attack. You can see the scorch marks on the ground from the lightning strikes. I stop at the impact point of the third strike, where Opulessa died.

Dierdra had what little remained of the body buried in an unmarked grave. She did it herself and only she knows the location. Just looking around, I realize it was just a little over a week ago but it feels like a month. There’s been so much done and there’s so much to do. Looking more closely at the exact spot where she died, it seems more barren, more damaged than the ground around it. I wonder if grass will ever grow here again.

“She was evil,” says Marta.

“But beautiful,” I add.

“She was not beautiful, she was attractive. Living so close to the Palace, I saw her frequently. I could tell the difference.”

“I’ve never heard someone make that distinction before. What’s the difference between beautiful and attractive?”

“Beauty reflects one’s inner nature, acceptance of who and what you are. A beautiful person does not put on airs. An attractive person is focused on the outside, the surface, the appeal to others, seeking attention, ignoring, even hiding, what is inside.”

“That’s pretty darn observant for someone as young as you.”

“We are of similar age, Mistre … Alexia.”

“I guess we are though Zaphod knows I feel older, what with all that’s happened.”

“Yet you remain the most beautiful woman in the land.”

“Wait a minute! There is no way that I’m the most beautiful woman in the entire country! Technically, I was not even born female.”

“So I have heard. I have heard and seen much in the last few days, often when others thought I was asleep. It is said among our people that you cannot fight your basic nature. Opulessa was evil but she fought not to appear so. She wanted all to think that she was not evil so she tried to attract their attention, to have a perfect face, to have perfect clothes, to have all look upon her and say ‘how could one who looks as she does be evil?’”

We were nearing the door but Marta stops and turns toward me.

“You do not call attention to yourself, you do the work that others may try to avoid, you accept blame when you are not at fault, you wear a simple servants dress, you make no effort to improve your appearance ….”

“I’m not that unkempt, you just caught me at a busy time.”

“Yet, with no effort, by your basic nature, you have achieved what Opulessa desperately sought. Your beauty comes from inside, reflecting what you are and who you are. It is not dependant upon others.”

“You’re not bad yourself, Marta. Let me get this.”

I wave my hand and the long timber locking the huge wooden doors together floats up and out of the wrought iron cradle attached to the back of both doors. It drops to the ground with a soft thud. I make a pushing motion with my right hand and the doors begin to swing open. We both step toward the widening gap in the doors.

“Remember,” I say. “If either you or Codii have any problems of any kind, you come right back and we’ll …”

A tremendous roar of cheers erupts when Marta and I clear the swinging doors. People are packed around the large stone paved square in front of the Palace, ten maybe fifteen deep. Men and women, hanging out of nearby windows, some even on the roofs of the surrounding buildings, all shouting and cheering, calling out my name.

Marteen Cantell walks up, leading Codii by the hand. Leeanna is walking right behind him, carrying baby Emery. Marteen kisses his wife and she takes Codii’s free hand as Lee hands the baby off to Marteen and steps back.

The Cantell family turns to face me. Just then, my Coven emerges from the crowd and line up behind the Cantells. Dierdra is in the center. I see some new faces and notice one old face not present. They are all smiling broadly.

Clearly, something is up.

Leeanna walks over from where she was standing, taking up a position five decileagues to my left. I start to walk towards her but she puts up a hand, palm forward, stopping me. She points behind me and I turn, finding Johnathyn standing next to me.

“What the HELL is going on here!” I shout over the cheering crowds. He leans down close to my ear.

“It is your coronation! Dierdra knew you would never agree to it.”

“Damn straight I wouldn’t agree to it! I can’t be the Queen! I’m – I’m leaving as soon as I can. You know that. SHE knows that!”

“It does not matter. The people demand it. They have always had a Queen. It is all they know. You defeated Opulessa so you are the new Queen.”

“No! Dierdra can be Queen. She’s one of you. She’d do a much better job than I would! She’s older … wiser. If it’s a matter of one person beating another, we can Indian Wrestle for the job.”

“To the death?”

“It’s got to be to the death? Couldn’t we just cut cards or something?”

I look up into his handsome, smiling face, hoping for him to tell me a way out of this mess. He shakes his head ever so slightly and leans in even closer.

“I am sorry, but there is no other way. Accept this with grace and dignity, my Wife … my Queen.”

Then he kisses me and the crowd goes even wilder. The noise echoing off the nearby buildings, quickly becoming almost painfully loud. Marta releases Codii’s hand and cover the baby’s ears with both of her hands. You can hear people laughing and the cheering drops down a couple of notches but it’s still deafening. Dierdra steps forward two paces, turns to face the crowd and raises both hands high above her head. The crowd falls silent almost instantly.

“I GIVE YOU THE ONCE AND FUTURE QUEEN! MAY SHE LIVE AND REIGN FOREVER! I PRESENT TO YOU … QUEEN … ALEXIA!!!

The Cantells bow and curtsey before me, as do Leeanna and Johnathyn. The Coven is next and, finally, all the people in the crowd. This lasts just milicycles and the cheering returns, just as loud as before as everyone rises up. Johnathyn returns to my side, taking my hand.

“Is that it?” I shout to him.

“Yes. It was all that Dierdra thought you would stand for.”

She got that right. I’ve never been much for ceremony and programs.

“What is your First Command?” he screams at me.

“My what?”

“Your First Command. It is tradition.”

What can I say? “Make love, not war.” “Let there be peace in our time.” “Spay and neuter your pets.” I look around and see the size of the crowd. A crazy idea occurs to me. The more I look round, thinking about the vibe I’m getting off the huge group of believers, the more sense it makes.

Why the hell not?

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Someone was knocking on the door of the tiny room that White had assigned me. It was barely ten decileagues square, including the indoor bathroom.

“First Minister! Mr. White wishes to meet with you.”

It is Dilgar. At least he has remained loyal. Many others have abandoned me. Two thirds of the Council is all that remains. I know the others were not killed for I saw them with my own eyes after Opulessa died. They just decided that their fates were better served by severing their connection to me. They will pay for that after we defeat this usurper.

As will White and his associates. They could make this so much easier. While their numbers are depleted and I can understand their reluctance to do so, the help of the Winthrop Group would be invaluable. They make up in other world equipment what they lack in field knowledge and I can provide the field knowledge.

And the way he treats me. Taking all sorts of actions without first consulting with me. It is not like I have anything else to do while waiting for my troops to gather. We practice drills outside the Winthrop fences during the day and I spend my evenings inside the fences.

The troops understand the necessity of that. It appears that I am afraid of these so called witches but that is hardly the truth. The facts are that I am the last vestige of civil authority in the land and the most vital thing to do right now is keep me safe and protected from those witches, no matter the cost. The men outside these walls would die to protect me.

As we hurry along the pristine hallway toward their Command Center, I worry about why I have been summoned. These emergency meetings are rarely good news. When we reach the doors to their secure area, our way is blocked by two burly armed guards.

“You know you people aren’t allowed back here. Why don’t you both just run away and …”

“Do you know to whom you are speaking?” barks Rachet. My ever loyal Dilgar Rachet.

“Yeah, I know ‘to whom I am speaking’. You’re the little tin pot dictator who let that bitch queen Opulessa run wild! Do you know that …” the radio attached to the band across his chest beeps several times as he reaches up and touches his right ear and listens for a milicycle, then he frowns. “You two can go right in. White’s orders.”

They both step aside, the door opens and we enter. The room is not much larger than my quarters but it is full of all kinds of complex equipment and large framed pictures but the pictures moved! A guard approaches us and directs us to follow him. We do and are quickly escorted to Don White. He is seated in front of one of those picture frames with a moving picture. It appears to be a landscape of some kind. He is tight lipped.

“Ahh Dupree. Prompt as always. I thought you might like to see this. We recorded it a few minutes ago.”

“Recorded?”

“Ohh brother, this won’t be easy. We have devices that take pictures and send them here. They are located in various places along the main road to this building. No two cameras take the same photo though there is some overlap.”

“You are telling me that these moving photos are showing us what is happening right now, outside this building? That is amazing!”

“Yeah, a miracle of modern science. More important is this.”

He reaches down and pushes a button. A new image appears but it was from such an angle and it moved in such a way that it seems to be from the point of view of a bird, looking down upon a very long line of wagons full of all kinds of people; young, old, men and women, children. As it flies over the wagons, it becomes clear that there are thousands of people traveling in the wagons, wherever they were going. Suddenly, an old woman’s face fills the picture frame and then the framed portrait turns black and stays that way until White pushes another button, revealing another portrait of someone I did not recognize.

“What does all that mean?” I ask.

White does not answer me immediately so I ask again. This time he answers.

“That was video from something we call a Drone. It flies in the air, like a bird but we can see what it sees in real time. We added them to the inventory a couple of months ago but have only been using them at night. Mostly at night anyway. Two of them have been weaponized. Just in case. Because of the change in circumstances, we decided to deploy them in daylight and monitor the areas around Glory, including this compound. Those wagons you saw number about five hundred. There are more on horseback and on foot. They’re headed this way but they sure as hell don’t look like an army.”

“I would agree. What about the old woman? What happened to the picture?”

Again, White said nothing for several milicycles but he eventually spoke up while staring at a smaller blank picture frame.

“That Drone, one of the two weaponized ones, by the way, was at least eight hundred feet in the air … sorry, about four hundred decileagues. We lost the signal so it likely malfunctioned and crashed.” He looks up at me. “Or it ran into an old lady who just happened to be flying by on the way to a quilting bee. First Minister Dupree … do you know something about witches that we don’t?”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Alexia was walking along in the front of the column of wagons, striding with youthful vigor, still wearing the servant’s dress, though she had me retrieve what she called her ‘cat suit’. She planned to change when she reached the Winthrop Group compound. She could have ridden a wagon. She could have simply flown. It is only ten leagues from Glory. She decided to walk because it made, what she called ‘good copy’ and ‘PR you couldn’t buy’.

Sometimes, I think she says things like that simply to prevent me from arguing with her.

Her First Command had been that anyone who wanted to put a final end to the reign of terror and abuse that had been led by Opulessa but aided by First Minister Dupree and his henchmen was to follow her to the Winthrop Group compound. She had smartly left an opening for people to decline but tradition required that her First Order be immediately obeyed.

Though, it had been a very long time since the last First Command, which, I believe history recorded as something about eating the roasted bodies of Opulessa’s defeated enemies.

While we clearly were not a group of armed men prepared for battle, there were a few guns among the many thousands who traveled along the road this day. Alexia also had some of the other witches fly what she call “Cover Air Patrol” to keep track of what was going on around us and, more importantly, ahead of us. That was how Olga found the large, strangely shaped object in the air ahead of her. She chose to capture it and bring it down to show Alexia, who did not seem as surprised as the rest of us to see it. In fact, I would describe her reaction as smug satisfaction, odd as that may be.

She had me bring her the backpack and, while I drove a barrowed wagon and she rode in the back, she proceeded to quickly disassemble the device into several smaller pieces, all of which were stored in a wooden box. She returned to walking while I continued to drive the wagon, full of the original assortment of city folk, some of whom I believe were visiting the countryside for the first time in their lives. When I suggest this to her as she walks beside me, she replies “Johnathyn, I can relate to that.”

Most of the way, the atmosphere is almost like a party, but as we draw nearer to the Compound, you can feel the tension increase. The witches move up and down the line of wagons, telling everyone to remain calm, to take no action, that they would protect the people from harm. Some men try to argue with them but it was pointed out that women and children were present and they do not wish to make them targets by drawing fire their way. They also politely state that any man who starts anything would lose the use of his hand for months to come.

The combination of the two arguments seems to be effective.

All of the other witches come and go while Alexia leads the way. They come up and speak with Alexia for a moment or two, then fall back, their assignment having been given. Eventually, Beckwith comes forward.

“I missed you earlier today,” Alexia says.

“I… was busy … important … interview,” she pants, having run to make her way to the front.

Alexia threw her arm over her shoulder. “I’m sure you were. Appreciate the effort. Who should we find in there waiting for us?”

Beckwith seems surprised but she quickly recovers. “Certainly First Minister Dupree. I would expect several of the other ministers though not all. The current representative of the Consortium is Don White. He is … like you.”

“An outsider?”

“Yes, an outsider.”

“I’m curious, Beckwith. How long must a person live in this world to no longer be an outsider?”

“It does not matter. Outsiders will always be outsiders.”

“Sounds like Nantucket.”

“Where is that?”

“An island in my world. They’ve got an annoying superior provincial attitude and no good reason for it. I’ve got an important job for you, if you’re up for it.”

“Why me?” she asks, suspicion practical dripping from the question.

“Because it’s likely the most important thing about this little trip and it goes completely against your nature. If you can do this, it’ll make up for your failure at the wall.”

“My failure?!”

“Yes, your failure. You screwed up. You chose to freelance instead of sticking to the plan. We weren’t ready for it and people were hurt. You know you fucked up but your pride refuses to let you admit it. I know a lot about out of control pride.”

Beckwith snorts but says nothing else. They walk on, side by side for almost a quarter cycle before Beckwith speaks.

“What is this important ‘job’?”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Dupree had his troops take up position outside our main gate, hiding behind a group of overturned wagons. The Winthrop Group troops were inside the compound. Dupree’s troops were concentrated in the front but they completely surrounded the Compound, just to be safe.

When the first wagon arrived, it stopped about a hundred yards away from the center of Dupree’s lines and then the other wagons pulled in next to it, one going left the other right, back and forth, until they stretched as wide as our boundary. Then the second row started, then the third. And so on, filling the field in front of the Compound completely.

Yet more came, lining the road both ways. In the end, there were thousands of people. If they all decide to rush us, we’d be overwhelmed, though the casualties would be horrendous.

“What do you want us to do, Mr. White?”

“Nothing for the moment, Captain Ridgeway. We’re safe for now. Is the gateway warmed up?”

“Yes, Sir. The techs say it’ll take at least twenty minutes to completely evacuate. They also say it’ll burn out the gateway.”

“If we have to bug out, the gateway has to be destroyed anyway. Alright, Captain, tell everyone to remain calm and cool. If there’s an attack, they have to get through the locals before they get to us.”

“Sir, if I can speak freely, they’ve got witches on their side. Anything could happen and I mean anything. That crowd includes women and children. Little children, Mr. White. My men are not firing on little kids.”

“No problem shooting women though? Let’s hope no one gets shot, Captain.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Ridgeway goes back outside as I and some other techs monitor the video feeds. I can’t sit around waiting for reports. I’m the impatient sort. Nothing happens for almost ten minutes before there is a stirring among the crowd. A lot of them are looking and pointing skyward. We have to switch cameras a couple of times before seeing what the fuss is about.

The witches are coming. There appears to be fourteen of them, flying in from the South. Did I really just think that? There are women just outside these walls actually flying through the air. No wings, no engines, no brooms, nothing but themselves and a shit load of magic. Looking at the video screen, it feels more like a movie than reality.

They all eventually land in the hundred yard wide open area between the crowd and Dupree’s troops, some more gracefully than others. They’re all dressed like regular local women; long dresses in assorted colors, long sleeved blouses, vests or short coats. They look more like mothers or grandmothers than stereotypical witches.

“Here comes another one!” shouts one of the techs. “She’s coming in hot!”

The latest witch is flying faster than the others. Much faster. No camera could catch more than a glimpse of her. She is a black blur. I assume that it’s a person simply because I don’t know of anything else on this world that big that flies. What ever it is, it was heading straight for our camp and getting pretty damn close. We don’t have any anti-aircraft weapons in stock, no one expected to need something like that.

The black blur keeps coming, flashing silently over the Compound, everyone one in the Control Room ducking reflexively. It turns sharply and loops around, coming to a stop in the air, hovering above the other witches who are already down. She does a couple of somersaults and drops down, landing on one extended leg.

This witch does not look like a grandmother or a mother. She looks more like a cosplay character at one of those comic book conventions. A skin tight, black outfit, jet black hair and a very impressive pair of breasts. The only differences between her and a comic book super heroine is she’s not showing any cleavage and she’s not wearing spike heeled boots. Thanks to one of the techs, we’re all getting a close up view of her. Or at least various parts of her.

“You weren’t kidding about hot, Jake. Daddy like,” says the spike haired tech.

“Daddy may like, Gentlemen, but keep in mind that she’s killed at least three people,” I say.

“Bet I know how they died,” replies Spikey.

Clearly, he’s been here too long. She’s looking directly into the camera and saying something.

“Can we get audio?”

“I’ll try, Mr. White.”

He fiddles with some dials, the speaker in the front of the room crackles and pops several times then we can hear it.

“…before this all gets out of hand. I repeat, we need to talk about the future of this world before this all gets out of hand. You’ve got ten minutes before I’m coming in, whether you like it or not.”

“Jake,” I sigh, “please fetch Dupree.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

“I absolutely refuse! The woman is a known killer! Why do you think I have all these men protecting me? You want to let her just walk past my men and assassinate me?! You believe you can make a deal of some kind with her, don’t you White? Save your precious business. Well, your only hope of that is to kill her right now, before it is too late!”

“How do you propose to do that?”

“There are over two hundred guns out there. We all fire at once. Surely at least one of them will kill her.”

“What about all the people in the line of fire behind her?”

“They chose to come with her, they are not my concern.”

“A good leader is concerned about those he leads, First Minister.”

“Yes, but I do not lead those people, Alexia does. They are not my people. My people stand between us to protect me from her and her people. I will tell you sincerely, White. You must throw in with us or all is lost.”

Clearly, a visionary. His visions include being burned at the stake for all he has done since becoming First Minister.”

“Should you not be concerned about the welfare of all your citizens?”

“Were you concerned about the welfare of those who worked in your mines? Those who worked on your farms? Those you sent into the wilds to search for rare and exotic plants?”

“I had different objectives. I wasn’t trying to run a country.”

“Nor am I. I am attempting to save my world from the likes of her and her supporters.”

I look at my watch. Two minutes to go. “Look Dupree …”

“First Minister Dupree,” he growls.

“Whatever. We’re almost out of time. This Alexia says she’s coming in, one way or another. From the reports I’ve read, I think she can do it. If we can’t stop her, we might as well invite her.”

“Let her try!” he cries out, defiantly.

“I am inviting her to come in, First Minister. You and your men will behave or there will be hell to pay. Do you understand?”

“Let it be on your head, White.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Dierdra snuck up behind me.

“Alexia, it is almost time.”

“I know. Pass the word to be on the alert. Everyone should know what to do. Is Beckwith ready?”

“She is. There are over five score family members but there are many of the Queen’s Guard.”

“Tell Beckwith to push the fact of who the new Queen is and their oath of loyalty. That and the stuff we already talked about. If men begin to break ranks, it’ll start a flood. Remember, we take men, not weapons.”

“Are you sure about that, Alexia? We could put them to good use.”

“The best use is no use at all. Times up. I’m going in. You’re in charge.”

“Until you return. Take care.”

She returns to the Coven’s line and I step forward. Just then, someone fires up a bullhorn.

“This is Don White, Consortium representative.” There was a momentary pause and some rattling noise with a few pops and squeaks. “And this is Captain Ridgeway, acting commander for the Winthrop Group. Every one is to stand down and allow her into the Compound. Is that understood? I mean everyone! Including the Queen’s Guards!”

That’s good news but I’m not ready to relax. I turn to signal Dierdra to keep alert, and then return my attention to the line of overturned wagons between me and the fence. As I start to walk towards the first wagon, there is some activity around it, trying to push it aside when a gunshot sounds. It is followed immediately by a hail of gunfire, all aimed at me but the Coven was too quick. The bullets are being deflected down in to the ground. There is a lot of screaming initially but as soon as people realize nothing’s getting through our shield, a tremendous cheer breaks out.

We had done what I did in the Courtyard fighting Opulessa, condensing the air around us until it became a semi-solid body, still mostly transparent but strong enough and flexible enough to absorb the kinetic energy of a bullet and deflect it down into the dirt in front of us. The heavy fire lasts just a few milicycles then quickly fades away, leaving nothing behind but a smoky haze and the smell of burnt cordite.

“Do we want to try this again?” I shout.

This time, the two wagons on either side of the gate start to slowly move out of the way. I give each one a bit of a boost, leaving the men behind attempting to regain control of the wagons as they roll harmlessly out of my way. As I step forward, armed men outside the gate glare at me but they do nothing but scramble out of my way. By the time I reach the gate, it is silently sliding to the left. There are more armed men on the inside but they aren’t glaring at me. They’re the professionals, just doing they’re job. Two of them step forward.

“Would you please follow us, Ma’am?”

“No problem. Who stopped the idiots firing on us?”

“That would be Mr. White and Captain Ridgeway, Ma’am.”

“Thank them for me.”

“You can thank them yourself, Ma’am.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

“Why did you stop us?!”

“Because it wasn’t working!

“They might have tired! There could have been a weakness in their line! There might have been … something!”

“First Minister, you must face reality. Opulessa is gone. This witch is the new power in your world and it appears that she has organized a group of witches to join her. If I understand the history of your world, this is unprecedented.”

Dupree looks as if he had been sucker punched, slumped in the padded chair at our conference table, just staring at the video feed of the rouge witch marching through the building, headed our way.

“It is. Certainly it never happened during Opulessa’s reign, she ordered her Guard to hunt for other witches. There was a bit of tolerance because almost all Healers were also witches and a community needed its Healer. The Guard knew that their families lived in those communities. If any of them tried to work together, the Guard would act but if they kept quiet, they were left alone.” He slowly stands and walks over to the window overlooking the entrance gate. “It may have been a mistake to be so lenient.”

Or to piss them off in the first place. Too late now.

“Looking back isn’t going to help now, First Minister. We need to deal with her. For all we know, she might be a Republican.”

“What is that?”

“Someone who is aware of their self interest.”

“Ahhhhh, I see. We should be so lucky.”

I glance down at the blue file folder laying on the table in front of me, the red tab reading “Thompson, Alex”.

“Or prepared.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Alexia said that we should delay at least ten decicycles after she entered the building before crossing over to where the Queen’s Guard waited. We had used the viewing device she had given me to choose some likely targets.

The woman had been amazed after looking through them.

“What did the Queen call these, Mistress Beckwith?”

“Bye nock yu lars.”

“Are they magic?”

“No. Tech nal ogee.”

“Well, whatever they are, that’s our Daveed over there.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, Mistress, that’s our little Daveed.”

“Little Daveed” appeared to be at least eleven stone and almost three decileagues tall.

“Just to be certain because this is dangerous, you agree to talk to your son about leaving the group over there and joining us over here?”

“Oh yes, Mistress. Our family has always supported the Queen, no matter what she did. It has been difficult over the years. Very difficult. Now, with this new, lovely Queen … she is so nice, don’t you think?”

“She is very nice. Go on.”

“You can tell by just looking at her. Such a nice girl, though I don’t know about those clothes.”

“They serve their purpose. About your son?”

“I am no fool, Mistress. I was standing where they were shooting towards. If you and the others had not been protecting us with your magic, many would have died. If this does not end soon, many will die. I do not wish my son to be among them. I support this Queen. My son will do the same. Once I explain it to him.”

“Very well. Follow me.”

Her story was similar to those of other mothers I had spoken with. They feared for their son’s safety, even their lives. They wanted to help, some demanded to help. All I need do is to get them safely across the divide.

There were over eighty different mothers who had recognized their sons among the men across the divide, some had more than one son there. I gathered the women together and we began to walk across, myself in the lead. Guns were quickly pointed at us, though not by all the men. We continued to walk without hesitation and were almost half way across.

“Who among you is in charge?” I shout. No one responds so we continue walking. “I would like to parley with the man in charge.” This time, a uniformed man steps forward.

“What do you want, Witch?”

I keep walking towards him as the group of women begins to slowly spread out across the front line of the Guard.

“Whom am I addressing?”

“General Dyson Packer. What do you and your rabble want?”

To his credit, he does not point his weapon at me. Brave but foolish.

“Rabble? We are simply mothers concerned about the safety and welfare of our children.”

“YOU have a son serving in the Guard?”

“Me? No. I am just the shepherd for this flock of grief stricken mothers.”

“Why are they so ‘grief stricken’?”

“Their sons are about to die.”

“How so, witch? I see no evidence of that. We are the ones with the guns, are we not?”

“Guns mean nothing. The Queen rules this world and all who oppose her are doomed to die. They may die slowly or quickly but they will be dead. You should know that as well as any.”

“That abomination is not the Queen!”

“No? Then who is?”

“There is no Queen.”

“Then General Dyson Packer of the Queen’s Guard, whom do you serve?”

“I serve the people!”

“Really? The people have accepted Alexia as the rightful Queen. All that you see before you came here at her behest. Even more cheered at her coronation earlier today. You have sworn an oath, a solemn oath, to serve and obey the Queen. It is the Queen who serves the people.”

It took several moments for him to stop laughing.

“Opulessa served none but herself!” he declares.

“Agreed. Yet you followed her orders. Why would you do such a thing? Because it profited you to do so? Then you did not serve the people but yourself and are no better than Opulessa. Did you follow her out of love? Then you are an ignorant fool and undeserving of your position because you yourself have already admitted she served none but herself. Or did you follow her because of your oath? If so, your oath requires you to follow the orders of the current Queen.”

He shakes his head. “You argue well, witch.”

“I have much practice. What say you, General Dyson Packer?”

“I say that I follow my orders and they are to keep you and your mob away from First Minister Dupree.”

“Who serves at the Queen’s pleasure. What if Queen Alexia were to dismiss him? Who would you take orders from then?”

“Alexia is not the Queen!”

“So, we return to that point, do we?”

As I and General Packer continue to argue, I can see a steady trickle of men moving from the Guard’s lines to our own. Alexia’s plan seems to be working.

Say what you will about her, she is very clever.

CHAPTER THIRTY

The cameras follow her progress through the Compound until she is just outside my office door. I stand up, preparing to greet her but Dupree stays seated. There’s a knock at my door.

“Come in,” I say, a little too loudly.

The doors open, sliding apart into the door frame. She stands between them, hands on her hips, legs slightly apart, hair as black as the night contrasted with white skin and red lips. She wears no obvious makeup but your eyes are drawn to hers, there is fire in those eyes. Her hair is wild, flowing, framing her high cheeks and tapered jaw line, ending in a strong, almost pointed chin. Hers is not the baby face you see on most beautiful women. You can just barely make out its masculine origin but it just lends a feeling of strength and determination to her beauty.

Then there’s those big tits, narrow waist and sculptured ass. I’m not one of the many lesbians who are a part of this mission but, right now, I can see the appeal.

“Please, have a seat.” I indicate with my hand the unoccupied seat next to Dupree.

“Thank you, Mr. White.”

Her voice is not high pitched and bubbly. It’s lower, more like Lauren Bacall’s. She moves with a purpose, sliding into the chair.

“May I introduce First Minister Redmond Dupree.”

She looks over at him, nodding her head slightly. “First Minister.”

Neither offers their hands. Maybe Thompson has adapted to local custom. Dupree doesn’t even acknowledge her presence. I return my attention to Alexia.

“Are you comfortable? Can I get you something to drink? Beer, wine, Coke? You don’t get a lot of choice over here.”

“I’ll have some coffee if you make it strong.”

I smile. “Is there any other way?”

“I will also have one of your coffees. Have Rachet bring it,” says Dupree.

Dupree has a paranoia about personal safety, always worried about someone poisoning his food or drink. Dilgar Rachet is his last line of defense. He’s also never shown any interest in coffee before.

I push my intercom button. “Three coffees. Black?” Alexia acknowledges my question with a nod but Dupree doesn’t. Probably doesn’t understand it. “Black. The First Minister would like Mr. Rachet to deliver.”

It’s an uncomfortable couple of minutes of silence while we wait for the drinks. When Rachet arrives, it’s with three oversized steaming mugs. Alexia quickly takes hers, inhales deeply above the rising vapors and then takes a tentative sip, smacking her lips slightly.

“Not bad. I made a mean cup back in the other world. Stronger than this but I was about the only one who could tolerate it. I think coffee is the thing that I missed the most. What do you miss the most, Mr. White?”

“Well, we have almost all of the creature comforts here. American food and drink. Movies and TV, that sort of thing. I guess it’s my family more than anything else.”

She takes a long, slow drink from her mug. “Family is important. Do you have any family, First Minister?”

He’s taken aback by her direct question. “Uhhh no, I do not.”

“No wife or children?” she asks.

“No.”

“No parents still alive?” she presses, though pleasantly enough.

“None.”

“Brothers or sisters?”

“No. None.” He answers, slightly exasperated

She takes another long, slow sip, almost draining the large mug. “That puts us in similar positions, though I didn’t have your family killed . So there’s that difference.”

Whatever artificial pleasant atmosphere existed disappears, replaced by cold, nervous anticipation.

“I assure you,” Dupree sputters “I had absolutely nothing to do with the deaths in your family!”

“Well, one of you two did and I plan on discovering exactly who did what …” The locks on my door close with a loud thump. “… before either of you two leave this office today.”

Shit. “Look …Alexia? What would you prefer we call you?”

She smiles but not pleasantly. “My Queen seems a little pretentious so, since were all friends here, Alexia will do. For the moment. I’d also appreciate a refill.”

“As would I,” adds Dupree, who had barely touched his mug.

I hit the button again. “Two more black coffees, please. And do not disturb us after that.” Turning toward the witch. “What evidence do you have, supporting this theory that the First Minister or I had anything to do with the deaths of your mother and brother?”

“Nothing right now but you know who I really am, don’t you MISTER White? When it comes to hacking computers, I’m as good as there is. We’re all going to sit here while I access your system and see what I can find. I can assure you, if there’s anything to be found, I’ll find it. When I do, one or both of you are going to pay.”

There’s another knock at my door. The locks slide open as do the doors without me touching anything. She’s already taken control of part of our system. Rachet is standing in the doorway, a mug in each hand.

I wave my hand at him. “Come in, Dilgar.”

He enters the room, keeping a wary eye on Alexia, reaching towards her with the mug shaking slightly in his right hand. She holds the empty mug up with her left hand, taking the full one from him with her right, again taking a deep whiff of the aroma before bringing it to her lips … and pausing.

“Excuse me. Dilgar is it?”

He had just traded mugs with Dupree.

“Yes. Dilgar Rachet.”

She carefully sets her mug on my desk.

“I’ve got a question for you and you’ve got one chance to tell me the truth.” The doors bang shut and lock again. Dilgar’s’ eyes are wide with fear. “Remember, just one chance. You lie; I will kill you where you stand. You tell me the truth; you walk out that door. Understand me?”

He rapidly glances back and forth between Dupree and Alexia, saying nothing but beads of sweat form on his forehead. You can practically smell his panic. She eases herself out of the chair, striding towards him, fixing him in place with her eyes. Slowly reaching out with her right hand, lightly brushing his cheek with the tips of her fingers, she stares him down.

“Do. You. Understand. Me.” She asks, slowly, quietly and with more malice than I can recall four words ever being uttered.

“Y-y-y-e-e-ssssss,” he managed to stammer.

“Good. It’s a two part question. What did you put in my coffee and who told you to do it? Again, one chance and I will know if you’ve told me the truth because, hey … I’m a witch.”

The sweat is rolling off his face, dripping from his eyebrows. He’s straining to look at Dupree but can’t tear his eyes away from Alexia’s face. She brings her index finger to point at his nose.

“The truth, Dilgar. Now.”

He’s definitely has that “deer in the headlights” look. He blinks, gulps, then opens his mouth.

“Snake venom, Woodland Adder venom,” he whispers.

“Nasty stuff. Now, part two. Who ordered it? It’s useless to lie to protect someone else. I’ll know it and you might as well as tell me who it was in the first place. You’ll both die, tell me the truth and at least you’ll live. Give him up, Dilgar.”

“Now see here!” Dupree harrumphed. “How can you expect to get the truth after threatening a man like that?! Why, he has no choice but to …”

Alexia flicks her hand towards Dupree without turning her attention from Rachet. The First Minister continues to talk but makes no sound.

“Just you and I, Dilgar. If it was your idea, fine. Tell me and you are free. Lie and die. Now.”

“I … I …” he began, struggling to speak. “It was all … my … I … You had to be … so I …” He stopped, closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. “First Minister Dupree gave me the poison,” he murmurs. “I was to put it in any drink you ordered the first chance available.”

“And how did you know that I’d order a drink?”

“White always offers drinks to his guests and our people always accept. They cannot resist trying something from his world.”

“Interesting.”

She gracefully returns to her chair, picks up the mug, cradling it in both hands for a moment before bringing it to her lips, taking a third, long swallow.

“It does add a certain kick you don’t usually find in coffee, however I doubt there’d be a big market. Though, with Starbucks, you never know.” The doors slowly slide open. “You’re free to go, Rachet. Your sins are absolved.”

He just stares blankly at the back of her head for several seconds then a look of mad relief comes over him. He turns and quickly heads for the door, which slams shut just as he reaches it.

“This is a one time offer, Dilgar Rachet. Never to be repeated. Conspire against me or my people ever again, in any way, and it will be you drinking the Woodland Adder venom.”

Rachet carefully spins back to face Alexia, bowing low behind her.

“I understand perfectly, my Queen.”

The doors glide open and he backs out of the room, bowing repeatedly, continuing as he moves down the hall. Eventually, he backs around the corner and the doors slip shut again, the locking mechanism activated with a dull, dreadful thud.

After another sip of the poisoned brew, Alexia sets her mug on my desk.

“Now. What am I going to do with the two of you?”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

“HOW MANY?!” I shriek.

“Nine out of every ten, maybe better, and they still are coming. More of the officers stayed than the regular soldiers but we did persuade a few of the officers. Including General Packer.”

“Well done, Beckwith!”

“I had him on the fence until his mother arrived and drug him off it onto our side. As unlikely as it seems, the argument about loyalty to the Queen carried more water than I thought it might.”

“People need something or someone to believe in, Beckwith.”

“People are simpletons!”

“People have a need to belong, to be inspired, to have a goal larger than themselves.”

“In other words, Dierdra …simpletons."

“Think what you will, Beckwith, but it was Alexia’s understanding of these ‘simpletons’ that has given us the victory this day. Without a single person being harmed I might add.”

“We are a long way from victory. They still have almost all of the guns.”

“And no one left to even carry them all, let alone shoot at us.”

“More men will be coming.”

“And more men will be leaving. We can use the same approach across the country. All divisions of the Queen’s Guard are local, as are their families. What is it Alexia says? ‘Blood is thicker than water.’”

“Yet both are easily spilled.”

“Not today, Beckwith.”

“Not yet, Dierdra.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Alexia restores Dupree’s voice and he does not waste any time in using it. “Rachet succumbed to some form of witchcraft! You made him say those things! No one would ever believe those lies!”

“I do. And so does Mr. White. Isn’t that right, Mr. White?”

She is trying to play us off one another. Clever girl. “I try not to get involved in internal politics.”

“Ahhh, bad for business. Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Business is closed.”

“SEE?! I told you White! You should have thrown your lot in with me!”

Dupree’s an idiot! He doesn’t understand what is sitting in front of us. He hasn’t read Alex Thompson’s dossier, not that there’s a hell of a lot there. What is there tells me we’ve got a political extremist with ultimate power. Even extremists want something; I just need to find out what that something is.

“Surely, we can come to some kind of mutually beneficial arrangement. As you have pointed out, this land has so many needs. The Consortium can fill those needs.”

She takes another sip of the doped coffee. How the hell does she do that and not drop dead? “And I should believe you because you’ve done such a wonderful job up ’til now?”

“We accommodate whoever is in charge. As you appear to be the new power on the throne …”

“Do not be so hasty, White! My men and their guns will have something to say about that! You are, in fact, surrounded by my men, witch, and are my prisoner! What do you say to THAT?!”

Alexia turns and fixes him with a leisurely look of disdain. “I say that you’d better do a head count. You might be down a few men.”

I reach for the intercom button but pause, looking at Dupree. He gives me a quick nod. I push the button but pick up the handset, best to keep this conversation at least partially private. I pass the handset to Dupree.

“Get me General Packer …. Where? … How is that possible? … Why did no one stop them? … Mothers? All of them? …. Get me Colonel Saveed then … Colonel Kaye … Captain Shikama! … Well, who is left out there? …. Yes! Immediately!”

There’s a pause, apparently waiting for the highest ranking officer available to be rounded up and report. Dupree is suppressed anger personified. Alexia continues to drink her coffee.

“This really isn’t bad, Mr. White. I’ve never been a fan of flavored coffees, more of a purist. Flavors just hide the fact that the coffee itself sucks. But this Woodland Adder venom has possibilities. Do you know where Dupree got it?”

“Sorry, no. Strictly a local product I imagine.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Lieutenant Mandell!” Dupree shouts. “What in Zaphod’s name has happened out there? … Just tell me how many men remain under your command.” His shoulders sag as some of the steam goes out of him. “Where are they? … Thank you Lieutenant.”

Dupree returns the handset to me. “You are still surrounded, witch!” he declares.

Alexia drains the last of the coffee from her mug, setting it on the edge of my desk.

“Fine. Come and get me.”

Dupree eyes her suspiciously. “Will you come peaceably?”

“No,” she laughs. “Of course not. I’ll decapitate the first man who walks through that door, and then the second, the third and so on. Make sure your people know that I plan to put up a fight as will my friends outside. I imagine you’ll lose a lot more men when they hear that. For now, Mr. White and I’ll discuss the future. You were saying something about accommodating who ever is in charge?”

“I was. The prior administration had certain goals and objectives and we adjusted our activities accordingly. If you have different goals and objectives, we can adjust again.”

“I doubt you’d be willing to adjust enough.”

“You never know unless you ask.”

“Let’s see. I promised the people of this world that I’d remove every last vestige of my world from theirs. Everybody and everything goes, including you and the Consortium. You interested in that deal?”

There it is. The end of the job.

“Not really.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“Who’s going to pay for all that?”

“You would, or The Consortium would to be exact.”

“I don’t think so, or The Consortium doesn’t think so, to be exact. What would keep us from just packing up and bugging out?”

“Nothing, though it’s what I’d expect from a group as irresponsible as yours.”

“Let’s not be insulting, Mr. Thompson.”

“Alexia, at least for now. Still the baddest ass witch in this world. You might want to remember that until you skip out on your obligations.”

“What obligations? There’s no enforceable contract.”

“Big surprise. Why shouldn’t I just kill you and all of your people right now?”

“Because you have no proof of any wrong doing by either me or my workers. Without proof you can’t …”

“Proof? I don’t need no stinking proof. I’m the ultimate authority in a world without any checks and balances. The Queen does whatever the Queen wants and nobody can do squat about it. Every single person currently in this world is at my mercy. Every. Single. One. Including you and your workers, Miss White. If you and your employer won’t work with me, Miss White, why shouldn’t I just snap my fingers and take care of that portion of my promise right now?”

DAMN! She’s really embracing her new role in this world. Who could blame her? How many people are given absolute power in their lifetime? Dupree has been silent since Alexia shut him down but I can tell he’s enjoying my predicament

“Perhaps my employer would be willing to negotiate certain issues. You can’t expect us to foot the entire bill.”

“Yes, I can.”

“You understand that I’m not authorized to make that large of a commitment? I’ll need to consult with the higher ups before giving you an answer.”

“Don’t take too long, I’m the impatient sort. I’ll just take Dupree with me now and we can talk after your consultation.”

“ARE YOU MAD?!” Dupree screams.

“Yeah, I am,” she replies. “Madder than hell. You’re the one who ordered the hit on my family.”

“How could you possibly …”

“I checked the system while we were talking. I’m getting better at this magical multitasking thing. You discovered what Patron Miller’s plan was and asked White here to have his employer take care of the problem, which they were happy to do. I still need them but I don’t need you. I assume you knew about Opulessa’s little petting zoo?”

Jesus Christ! She wouldn’t …

“I-I-I can assure-you-you that there was nothing that I could do about her …” Dupree desperately babbles. “She was beyond my control!”

Alexia stands up, flexing her fingers.

“This won’t hurt a bit. At least, I don’t think so. Not that I care.”

Dupree tries to get out of his chair but falls over backwards, sprawling on the floor on his back. He raises his hands, trying to ward off his fate.

“NO! PLEASE! I …AAHHHHH!!”

Dupree begins to glow, dull yellow at first but, in seconds, he grows brighter and brighter until I can no longer look at him. I close my eyes tightly and look away. Then I hear a soft squeal.

I open my eyes and see a pile of clothes with something small squirming around under them. Oh my GOD! She actually did it! Alexia comes to the front of my desk, places her hands on the edge and leans closer toward me.

“If I could trouble you for a bag.”

“A-a-a bag?”

“Yeah. Something big enough to hold a …” She bends down, roots around among the pile of Dupree’s crumpled clothes and stands up. “pig. Appropriate. Don’t you agree, White?”

She is holding a squirming, squealing piglet by the scruff of the neck. She’s freaking nuts! I dive for my intercom.

“Yes. Very appropriate. I’ll get you that bag.”

It took a few minutes to find a strong enough sack and a couple more for her to stuff Dupree into it. Dilgar had fled the building as soon as Alexia had let him go so there was no one left to deal with Dupree’s personal effects.

“Give them to whoever is left in charge of his troops. I assume he had some loyal followers,” Alexia says, the bag and its contents slung over her shoulder. “I expect to hear from you within the next two days, White. If I don’t …”

“Don’t worry, you’ll have our answer very soon.”

“Good. See ya’ later.”

She saunters out of my office, down the hall, through the building and out the door, carefully watched by our security cameras. A quick headcount reveals less than fifty men left from Dupree’s original almost a thousand and they are all from far away regions. They have no place nearby to run to. That doesn’t matter when they get the news about Dupree. They begin looting their fellow troop’s belongings and start heading for the woods in minutes.

As soon as Alexia reaches her people, the wagons start to leave in a surprising orderly manner. I reach for my intercom one last time.

“Once the last wagon has left the property, we will begin Emergency Evacuation Protocol Alpha,” I announce to the entire base. “Do not, I repeat, do not leave anything you value behind. We will NOT be returning.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

When I reach the wagon, Johnathyn takes the bag from me.

“Be careful. He’s pretty shaken up,” I tell him.

“I will,” he replies. “It is understandable.”

He climbs up onto the driver’s bench and I follow him. Standing up on the seat, I waive my hand over my head several times. There’s a loud roar, a mixture of shouts, applause, laughter and general huzzahs, quickly followed by assorted whistles from the people assigned to traffic control. The wagons start to head back to Glory, the new Queen’s Guard formed up and leading the way. Dierdra and Beckwith run over to our wagon as we wait for our turn to join the procession.

“Were you successful?” asks Beckwith.

“Let’s find out. Johnathyn?”

He hands me the reigns and jumps into the back of the wagon. Reaching down, he lifts the corner of a large quilt. Underneath is a naked, bound and gagged Redmond Dupree. Beckwith laughs, slapping me on the back. Dierdra eyes her harshly but says nothing.

“Was it difficult?” Beckwith asks.

“I’ve got no idea how Opulessa did what she did to those poor prisoners and I don’t want to know but teleporting is a whole lot easier. Dupree can spend the rest of his life in prison for the death of my family and no one will be looking for him. His supporters have either joined us or run to the hills to save themselves.”

“You did well, my Queen,” says Dierdra.

“You guys did pretty well too. Dupree was darned upset when he found out most of his troops had defected.”

“Beckwith was very persuasive,”

I turn to face Beckwith. “Were you now?”

“It was not difficult. Most of them were just local lads who joined to make a living. They were not evil men and simply followed orders. Even the officers were decent men. Did you know that most of them refused to fire at us? If they had not, we might not have been able to protect the crowd as we did.”

“There was a risk but I’m sure we would have handled it.”

“You mean that you would have handled it,” says Dierdra.

“My power is your power and vica versa. That’s why you all will have to work together once I’m gone. There is strength in numbers and you’re gonna need that strength until you get established. It may be that doing the wrong thing together is better in the long term than doing the right thing if divided. You have to show the world that you can work together, listen to each other, compromise and, most of all, get things done.”

“What is next, my Queen?”

“Have Steinvild hang back with five empty wagons. I want every gun picked up and brought back to Glory. I’d destroy them if I could but that’s being too idealistic. Eventually, when this is done, we’ll field strip them, separate the pieces and store all the receivers in one place, all the barrels in another, all the stocks in a third and so on. In order to get a working gun, a person would have to successfully break into like five or six separate security areas. Not impossible but pretty damn hard.”

“What about White and his people?” asks Beckwith.

“We’ll return in the morning and salvage anything useful but not too dangerous then mothball the rest.”

“And you believe that White will allow you to just walk in?”

“If there’s a single man present in that building in two hours, Beckwith, I’ll eat my hat.”

“What hat?”