The High Queen summoned me at two in the morning on August 31st.
I was sleeping on the couch in my husband’s condo.
Riordan had a condo in Manhattan, and it was nice. Like, seriously nice. I had known vaguely that Riordan had money, but I hadn’t realized how much money. He had a corner condo on the top floor of an expensive building in midtown Manhattan, the kind of place that it takes mid-six figures to buy.
Apparently, he had lived here for years. It had four bedrooms, one of which had been converted into an armory and a workshop and another into a well-equipped gym. The condo also featured a large living room and dining room, and even a balcony where you could stand and watch the lights of the cars on the surface streets far below. Despite the expensive condo, the furniture wasn’t pretentious – lots of couches with big, soft cushions. My husband liked to read, and so he had bookshelves lining the walls of the living room. The bedroom had a king-sized bed, the largest bed I had personally ever slept in, and I had also learned that a king-sized bed was extremely comfortable for certain other marital activities.
But it felt strange to sleep in that huge bed without Riordan, so I was sleeping on the couch by myself.
Riordan was out of town for business. He was a member of the Family of the Shadow Hunters, the secret society dedicated to hunting down and eliminating creatures from the Shadowlands that attacked Earth (along with the men and women who trafficked with such creatures). He had gone to the UK to help deal with a pack of wraithwolves that had been terrorizing the Greater Manchester area. I would have gone with him. I wanted to go with him, and he would have liked me to come.
And not just from the pleasure of my company. I had a bit of experience fighting wraithwolves. A century and a half or so.
The problem was that I didn’t actually have a passport yet.
In the bad old days when I worked for Morvilind, that wouldn’t have stopped me. I would have used the Mask spell to disguise myself or forged the necessary documents under a false identity. But I was legitimate now, sort of. The High Queen had given me a retroactive pardon for every illegal thing I had done before the attack on New York, and I was one of her shadow agents now. (I was entirely certain Tarlia had more than one shadow agent.) So that meant I had to try to do things legally when possible so I didn’t embarrass my boss. I had filled out the necessary forms at both the post office and a Homeland Security branch office, had my picture taken and a DNA scan done, and now I needed to wait four to eight weeks for the passport documentation to arrive.
The next time Riordan went to the UK on business for the Shadow Hunters, I would come with him.
For now, I was on my own until he returned. And that meant I had his condo in New York to myself. Complete with that huge bed, which felt empty and cold without him, so I had retreated to the couch.
I turned over, trying to get comfortable as I adjusted the blankets. I was little embarrassed at myself. God, was I really going to be one of those women who had a difficult time sleeping when her husband was away?
Guess so.
I drifted to sleep around 11 PM, and I got a good three hours or so until I woke up. What woke me up was a nightmare. I was back in the twisted simulacrum of a small town that had filled the Eternity Crucible, fighting as wraithwolves closed around me. I cast spells of fire and lightning and ice, killing them by the dozens, but still they kept coming. I killed and killed, but at last, they piled onto me, their weight driving me to the ground, fangs and claws sinking into my flesh…
I awoke and felt the weight of the wraithwolves on me.
I surged to my feet with a shriek, the blanket falling away. My eyes darted around the living room, looking over the couches, the end tables, the big TV, the rows of books on their wooden shelves. The wraithwolves were there, I was sure of it, and I called elemental fire to my hand as I spun, ready to blast them dead. I saw the lights of Manhattan through the windows in the dining room, and…
Wait. There hadn’t been skyscrapers in the Eternity Crucible.
I blinked in confusion, looking at the blanket where it had dropped to the floor. The blanket. It was a big, thick blanket, and in the confusion of the nightmare, I had mistaken its weight for a wraithwolf.
So now I was standing in my underwear in my husband’s condo at two in the morning, ready to burn the place down because I thought the creatures of the Shadowlands were after me.
“Jesus, Nadia,” I whispered to myself, closing my eyes and dismissing the magic I had summoned. I forced myself to calm down, though a tremor still went through my hands. That would be a fine present for Riordan when he returned, wouldn’t it? We had been married just over two weeks, and the first time he has to leave on work for the Shadow Hunters, I burn down his condo while he’s gone?
I sighed and paced in a circle, taking deep breaths until my heart rate slowed back down to normal. Sleep wasn’t happening again for a while, so I stooped, folded the blanket, and put it back on the couch. I decided to get my workout in early. I didn’t have anything better to do, and perhaps exercise would tire me out enough that I could get back to sleep. After that, maybe I would catch a flight back to Milwaukee and stay with the Marneys and Russell until Riordan got back from Britain.
I had always been a loner, but I was beginning to suspect that I had become the kind of woman who shouldn’t be left alone with herself for too long.
My mind made up, I took one step towards the bedroom.
My phone rang.
I stopped and looked back at the end table. Was it Riordan? London was five hours ahead of New York, so he was probably awake by now. Then again, Shadow Hunters tended to keep odd hours for their work.
I stepped to the end table and picked up my new phone. My old phone had caught fire in the Shadowlands, and I had smashed my phone before that in a fit of rage and grief. This new phone was a high-end model with all sorts of elaborate features, though I was going to customize it with abilities more useful to my particular line of work.
I recognized the number on the screen.
It wasn’t Riordan.
“Shit,” I muttered, then I took a deep breath to calm myself and lifted the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Good evening, Mrs. MacCormac,” said a dry male voice. It was Robert Exeter, one of the troop of lawyers/secretaries who followed the High Queen everywhere to take dictation. Riordan had told me that Julius Caesar had been famous for having multiple scribes following him everywhere to take down his correspondence, and apparently, the High Queen did the same thing. “Or good morning, I suppose. I trust you are well?”
“Just great,” I lied. “What can I do for you?”
“The High Queen wishes your presence at once,” said Exeter.
I felt my throat go dry. The High Queen had said she would have work for me once my honeymoon was over. It had been over for a day and a half, and already she was calling. “I’ll get there as soon as I can. Where are you?”
“We are waiting for you at 40th Street south of Bryant Park,” said Exeter.
I blinked. “Really? That’s not far.” The building with Riordan’s condo was on the block of 6th Avenue and 43rd Street. It would be a ten-minute walk to Bryant Park.
“It is not,” said Exeter. “I suggest you arrive within the next half-hour.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Be there soon.”
I hung up, took a deep breath, and hurried to the bedroom to get dressed. I wore the clothes I usually did – black jeans, snug gray sweater, and running shoes. Over it all, I donned a long black pea coat, and I put my phone and a small revolver into the interior pockets. The clothes were too heavy for New York in August, but that was all right.
I often felt a lot colder than most people. Another fun little consequence of the Eternity Crucible.
I left the condo and took the elevator to the lobby. I usually preferred the stairs (it’s a great mini-workout), but I didn’t want to keep the High Queen waiting. I hurried from the lobby and headed for Bryant Park at a brisk walk. The air was torrid and hot. The temperature had been ninety-five yesterday, and it was supposed to be hot again tomorrow. Or later today, I suppose. It was two in the morning, but there were still a few people on the streets, mostly inebriated people heading home from various bars and clubs. It probably wasn’t safe for one woman to walk the streets alone at night, but New York had a massive Homeland Security presence after the Rebel attack, and the men-at-arms of the local Elven nobles still patrolled the streets.
Besides, anyone who tried to mug me would be in for a seriously unpleasant surprise.
Bryant Park is a nice place in midtown Manhattan with a lot of tree-shaded sidewalks. I had never been there in winter, but Riordan had told me that the city made part of it into a skating rink when the weather is cold enough. I’ve never been ice skating, and I wondered if I would be any good at it.
I came to 40th Street and spotted the High Queen’s vehicle. It wasn’t hard to find. There was no parking on the street, but a tour bus had pulled over to the curb, its lights flashing. Two black SUVs had been parked in front of and behind the bus, and through their windows, I glimpsed Elven Royal Guards in their silver armor. God have mercy on the Homeland Security traffic officer who tried to cite them for parking illegally.
I walked towards the bus, and the doors hissed open at my approach.
An Elven woman waited for me. She was tall, with dark hair and bright silver eyes, and wore a bright pink leather coat. The coat fit well against her lean body, but I knew thanks to the spells Kaethran Morvilind had put upon it, she could fit an entire arsenal into its pockets.
“Hi, Tyth,” I said.
“Nadia!” said Tythrilandria, beaming. Like me, she had once been Lord Morvilind’s shadow agent, and now we both worked for the High Queen. Unlike me, she seemed to serve as one of Tarlia’s personal assistants. Perhaps the High Queen had wanted an assistant who knew how to keep a secret.
Because, good God, the High Queen spun more webs than a spider.
But I liked Tyth. We had survived some crazy and dangerous things together. And she had come to my wedding.
“How’s the new job?” I said.
“Busy,” said Tyth. “There’s always something to do, but that’s okay. I totally like being busy.” Her face went grave. “She wants to see you right away.”
I took a deep breath. “Let’s not keep her waiting.”
I followed Tyth onto the bus. The interior looked like a conference room. The seats lined the walls and faced each other, probably so the occupants could talk while the bus was in motion. There were multiple video monitors on the walls, showing a combination of news reports and maps. All of them were muted. I spotted Exeter in one of the chairs, along with two more middle-aged lawyers in business suits and a pair of Royal Guards.
The High Queen Tarlia stood at the end of the bus, scowling at a tablet. She was tall, over seven feet, and as always wore silver armor that fit close to her body. Her eyes were a ghostly shade of blue, and her flame-colored hair was bound back with a golden circlet.
“Your Majesty,” said Tyth. “Nadia Moran MacCormac has arrived.”
“I see,” said Tarlia, her voice like music and thunder. “Thank you, Tythrilandria. All of you, wait outside. Mrs. MacCormac and I must speak alone for a moment.” A ghost of a smile went over her face. “Go have a cigarette, Exeter.”
“I’m trying to quit, your Majesty,” said Exeter, but he produced a carton and a lighter as he stood. Tyth, the lawyers, and the Royal Guards filed out, leaving me alone with the High Queen.
That’s always an unsettling feeling, let me tell you.
“Your Majesty,” I said. I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to bow or kneel, so I settled for a deep bow.
That amused Tarlia. “Darling girl. You seemed surprised to see me.”
“I am,” I said. “I thought the Skythrone was in Africa.”
“Northern Africa,” said Tarlia, “and the Skythrone should soon be crossing into the Middle East. The Day of Return has heralded great change, but it seems that the Caliphate, the Imamate, and the Neo-Ottoman Empire have decided to celebrate those changes by preparing to make war on each other. But I will not allow that, and a Royal Progress will remind them of my displeasure on the matter.” She smiled. “But the High Queen need not always be where the Skythrone is. How was your honeymoon?”
“Good,” I said, thrown by the sudden change in topic. “We...ah, we went to the Grand Canyon.” She raised an eyebrow. “I had never seen it before. I’ve driven across the US dozens of times and I’ve been to Arizona a lot, but I never had time to see the Grand Canyon.” I had been surprised at how much I had enjoyed it. But maybe going to see it with Riordan had made all the difference.
“You and Mr. MacCormac came to know each other satisfactorily?” said Tarlia. “I understand that physical compatibility is quite important in a human marriage.”
I felt my cheeks warm as I realized what she meant. “Yes, your Majesty. Very...er, satisfactorily.”
“Well, Mr. MacCormac does seem quite physically capable. I assume he is in Britain?” said Tarlia, lifting something that glittered. I blinked in surprise. She was holding a small crystal vial of blood. It was the vial of heart’s blood that Morvilind had taken from me when I had entered his service.
“Yes, your Majesty,” I said. “Business for the Shadow Hunters.”
“Mmm,” said Tarlia. “As it happens, detonating a nuclear device in the Shadowlands weakened the barrier between the Shadowlands and Earth itself. I’m afraid that such incursions from the Shadowlands are going to be more common for some time.”
“It...was still better than letting the Sky Hammer go off in New York,” I said.
“I quite agree,” said Tarlia. “But it’s time for your first assignment from me, darling girl. A bit of a trial run, let’s say. Are you ready?”
I knew this had been coming. And strangely, I had been looking forward to it. I was good at what I did, and idleness never suited me. “Yes, your Majesty.”
“Splendid,” said Tarlia, and she tapped a command into her tablet. One of the screens on the wall lit up, showing an official-looking portrait of a man in middle age. He wore an expensive business suit, and he was jowly and red-faced, with graying hair styled in a severe crew cut. “Do you know this man?”
“No,” I said, frowning. “But...I think I recognize him. He turns up on the news a lot.”
“His name is Joseph Sulzer,” said Tarlia. “He is a former man-at-arms, a successful entrepreneur, and he is the current Congressman representing the state of New York’s 9th Congressional District.”
“A Congressman?” I said. “Oh, so he’s a scumbag.” Tarlia gave me a pointed look, and I had a sudden memory of watching her on video executing the United States Congress during the Conquest. “Well...he’s probably a scumbag, isn’t he? I mean, no one goes into politics because they’re a good person. They go into politics so they can take bribes and lord it over people and grope their secretaries.”
“Your cynicism is breathtaking in one so young,” said Tarlia.
“I am a hundred and eighty years old, your Majesty,” I said.
“By the standards of the Elves, that is young.”
“I am human, your Majesty. And I was also Kaethran Morvilind’s shadow agent. If that does not teach cynicism, then nothing does.”
Tarlia laughed at that. Talking to her was always a strange experience. Morvilind had never laughed, and he had always been annoyed when I had questioned him and had sometimes threatened me if I went too far. Tarlia, by contrast, seemed to relish conversation and didn’t mind being questioned, at least in private.
So long as she wasn’t disrespected, of course. But I suppose a monarch could not tolerate disrespect if she wanted to keep her throne and probably her head.
“But as it happens, your cynicism is quite correct in this case,” said Tarlia. “Mr. Sulzer is indeed, as you so eloquently put it, a scumbag. He is on his third wife and possibly his eleventh or twelfth mistress. His businesses skirt the law at every available opportunity, and he has friendly connections with New York’s organized crime syndicates.”
I stared at Sulzer’s image on the screen. The High Queen had two different planets to rule. Why would she care about a corrupt US Congressmen? There had to be thousands of legislators and members of parliament and assemblymen or whatever in the various nations of Earth, and a substantial percentage of them were likely scumbags. Why would she waste her time talking about a relatively small-time crook like Joseph Sulzer?
Then I figured it out.
“And in addition to all that,” I said, “he was helping the Rebels, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” said Tarlia, her voice suddenly cold. “I can forgive many things, Nadia, but the one thing I cannot ever forgive is treachery.” She gestured at the screen. “The Sky Hammer destroyed most of the fighting force of the Rebels and annihilated their sanctuary in Venomhold. But their organization had many logistical branches and financiers scattered throughout the world. Mr. Sulzer was one such financier, and he helped launder money and funnel funds for the Rebels’ needs.”
“And you want me to kill him?” I said.
Tarlia blinked. “Of course not. If I wanted him dead, I would do it myself. Or I would contract the job out to your husband’s organization. Besides, I try to follow the local law whenever possible.” I blinked at that, and she scowled. “Don’t look so surprised. If the people were to see me break the law, that would justify breaking the law in the minds of some. Ruling is as much about symbolism, grand gestures, and persuasion as it is about results.” She paused. “Though results are also very important. Which, darling girl, is where you come in.”
I frowned. “If you don’t want me to kill him...”
Those eerie blue eyes glittered. “I want you to ruin him.”
“Ruin him?”
“Homeland Security has investigated him and been unable to find proof of his misdeeds,” said Tarlia. “You, however, are uniquely suited for spying on him. You’re going to find irrefutable proof of his crimes, and you will turn it over to Homeland Security. He will be tried, found guilty, and executed on a Punishment Day video for treason and Rebel collaboration.” Her eyes glittered the way Morvilind’s sometimes had. “We are going to make a memorable example of Mr. Sulzer. I want the people to see that video and know that not even a wealthy and powerful Congressman can escape justice for his crimes.”
I didn’t say anything. She was the High Queen, and it sounded like this Joseph Sulzer guy deserved all the misery that was about to fall on him. And I didn’t like the Punishment Day videos. I didn’t like the way some people watched the floggings and the executions every week. I didn’t like how some schools showed them to students to scare them straight. I didn’t like how some people made remixes of the videos with upbeat music and put them on the Internet for laughs.
“You don’t approve of the Punishment Day videos?” said Tarlia.
I hesitated. “It’s...not my place to say...”
“Don’t prevaricate,” said the High Queen, her voice a little harder than before. “If I didn’t want to know your opinion, I wouldn’t ask for it.”
“I...am not fond of them, your Majesty,” I said.
“Nor should you be,” said Tarlia. “What would you have me do instead? The pre-Conquest American government maintained a prison system that cost billions of dollars every year, and the inmates frequently brutalized and tortured each other. Would that be preferable?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“A good answer,” said Tarlia. “Here is an unpleasant truth, Nadia. Justice is ugly. People like to think that justice is neat and tidy. The hero shoots the villain at the end of the movie, and everyone lives happily ever after. Justice isn’t like that. Justice is covered in blood and tears.”
“I know that,” I said, voice quiet.
Tarlia shrugged. “Of course, newborns are covered in blood and tears as well, and they are just as necessary for the future. If it eases your conscience, consider this. On the day Connor planned to destroy New York with the Sky Hammer, Congressman Sulzer was out of the city. He knew what was going to happen, and he was perfectly willing to abandon both his colleagues and the people of his district to save his own skin. And if left alone, no doubt he will do further harm.”
My lip twisted. “Nicholas probably promised him a high rank in his new government.”
“Precisely,” said Tarlia. “So, you have no problems with this assignment?”
I looked her in the eye. “No. No, I’ll take him down.”
“Splendid,” said Tarlia. “One advantage of working for me, darling, is that the information sources are so much better. Tythrilandria has a file for you. A great deal of useful information about the soon-to-be former Congressman Sulzer. Take that with you and bring me irrefutable proof of his crimes.”
“I will,” I said.
“Good luck, Nadia,” said Tarlia. “You may contact Exeter when you have news. Tell the others to finish their cigarettes and come back inside.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” I said, turning to go.
“Oh, and Nadia?”
I hesitated and turned back. Those cold blue eyes regarded me without blinking.
“I understand that things sometimes go wrong during this sort of work,” said Tarlia. “If in the process Joseph Sulzer should happen to get killed, I’ll be disappointed…but I’ll understand.”
I bowed again and left the bus. Exeter, Tyth, the other lawyers, and Royal Guards stood on the sidewalk. I was amused to see that all of them, even Tyth, were smoking. Royal service had to be stressful, though I had never seen an Elf smoke before.
“Your meeting is finished, Mrs. MacCormac?” said Exeter.
“Yeah,” I said. “The High Queen said you guys should finish up your cigarettes and get back on the bus.”
“No rest for the wicked,” said Exeter. He took one last draw on his cigarette, and I was amused to see that he put in in the concrete ashtray instead of just dropping it on the ground. The High Queen meant what she said about following laws.
“The High Queen said you would have a file for me?” I said to Tyth.
“Oh!” said Tyth. “Yes, that’s right.” She reached into her coat and produced a fancy leather folder, the kind held shut with a string. “Here you go. I hope it’s helpful. Good luck, Nadia.”
“Thanks, Tyth,” I said.
She grinned at me, put out her cigarette, and got back onto the bus.
I headed back to the condo building, and a few minutes later I heard the rumble of the bus’s engine. I glanced back and saw the bus and the two SUVs driving away. I wondered how often the High Queen did this, traveling without fanfare through the human and Elven cities of Earth as she dealt with various crises. Maybe if I kept working for her, I was going to find out.
I walked back to Riordan’s condo, but there was a new urgency in my stride.
Despite my nightmare, the lack of sleep, and the task the High Queen had given me, I felt better.
I was good at this kind of thing, and as dangerous as it could be, I enjoyed the work. I was what Morvilind and Arvalaeon had made me to be. I was a shadow agent, and I was a good one.
It was time to get to work.
And if this Joseph Sulzer had really been one of Nicholas Connor’s followers, he was going to regret it.
***