Chapter 12- Declan

 

I was having trouble keeping my eyes open in the back of the big SUV on the way back to the tower. Thing One and Thing Two were rolled into big black metallic beach ball-sized orbs in the luggage area behind me. I could feel them in the back of my mind, sitting quiescent, waiting for orders. Like I should be the one to give them.

 

“What was it like?” Nika suddenly asked me, turning in her seat in the middle row to look back at me.

 

“What?” I asked.

 

“The program, Anvil. What was it like? I could feel when you interacted with it,” she said.

 

“Well—massive. Powerful. Really fast. And those were just leftover copies that were still in the pedes when the rest left,” I said.

 

“No, I mean at the beginning. When we first stepped outside?” Nika pressed.

 

“Oh. You mean when I froze up,” I said, spotlighting the elephant in the car.

 

“Really? You feel you froze up?” she asked, her voice politely disbelieving.

 

“What you would you call a complete lack of response to an overwhelming attack?” I asked back.

 

“In this case? When I sensed you communicating with the program while monitoring the storm? I’d call it tactical observation and perhaps even an attempt at negotiation.”

 

I snorted. “Lipstick on a pig, Nika. I froze up. You all know it.”

 

Tanya spun around to look at me from the far front. “Have you frozen before? When you fought the revenants at Rowan West? When you fought the witch in the parking lot? When you fought a giant werewolf bully? Or did you sense information from two different sources that none of the rest of us could? Information important enough to distract you from the fight? Because distraction isn’t good Declan, but it’s not at all the same thing as freezing in fear. And did you snap out of it when your teammate was in dire straits? Because that’s what good team member does.”

 

“What was that spell? The one with the laser beam?” Stacia asked before I could respond to Tanya.

 

“Ignis Solis. Sunfire,” I said.

 

“Effective,” Arkady commented.

 

“It’s dangerous. I have to be careful with it,” I said.

 

“No shit. You just about vaporized that thing,” Lydia said.

 

“He means it is dangerous to himself as well,” Nika said. I sometimes forget she can literally hear my thoughts.

 

“Explain,” Tanya demanded, frowning at me.

 

“I almost always try to use power I find around me in my spells. Save my own reservoir for emergencies. Ingis Solis can only use a witch’s personal power, and it’s a huge draw on that well of energy. A giant vacu-suck of power that could get away from you and leave you a magical husk. So I have to use just little blasts of it. It’s tricky,” I said.

 

“Why did you use it, then?” Tanya asked.

 

“It’s also very powerful. I needed to make sure that centipede was down and out,” I said.

 

“You know what I think? I think you got really mad that something hurt your friend and you obliterated the thing that did it,” Chris said from the shotgun spot in the front.

 

I wanted to come up with a counter argument, something about appropriate forceful responses to an attack or some such bullshit, but ultimately he was right. “Point,” I said.

 

“Ahh. So you maybe got angry and fought angry?” Tanya asked.

 

I already knew that you weren’t supposed to fight from anger, but I nodded.

 

“Anger is good—if it is harnessed and controlled. Chris fights from rage, yet it is precise and focused. Your response was overwhelming and decisive, but it exposed you to exhaustion, depletion of your abilities, and the potential to lose your weapon of choice—your magic. Later today, we begin training.”

 

“Good. I obviously need it,” I said, meaning it.

 

“Declan, your use of the storm and its power ended what might have been a bad battle for us. You did well. But if you are unhappy with your own responses, then we will train and train until your reactions are instinctive and reliable, as well as controlled. Hard, focused anger can be a decisive weapon in battle,” Tanya said.

 

My thoughts were definitely angry, mostly at myself. Behind me, both pedes shifted slightly, still in ball form. I checked them and found them responding to my emotion. I took a breath and stilled myself, and then them. Beside me, Stacia had tensed up when the pedes shifted and I had a flash of insight. They scared her. Quick, somebody mark a calendar… the teenager had a moment of empathy.

 

“Hey, I’ve already reprogrammed them. They won’t ever attack anyone on the team. In fact, they will take your commands and will fight for you,” I said to her.

 

“Maybe I want to fight for myself,” she said, and I had some more insight. Go me.

 

“Oh. Well, they were literally created to fight werewolves and vampires. Designed from the ground up. These two are versions nine-point-five. Refined. They have detailed attack programs for fighting beast form werewolves. Not sure how they got those, but they’re there. You, on the other hand, have never fought a giant robot centipede before and you pretty much mashed the first one with that scooter.”

 

“I should have done better,” she said.

 

“Me too,” I said. “But if it helps, we can train against these two. You can work out your own methods for combating them.”

 

“I want a piece of that, too,” Lydia piped up. “My gun didn’t do squat.”

 

“I might be able to modify your ammo—rune up your bullets a bit,” I said.

 

“Is good use of robot bugs,” Arkady rumbled from the driver’s seat.

 

“You did well against them,” Stacia commented to me. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one butt hurt about this.

 

“Yeah. Because they were designed to fight vampires and weres… not witches. Anvil will likely seek to change that,” I said.

 

“How?” Tanya asked.

 

“Find someone to put counter spells on them. Like magical armor,” I said.

 

“You think this program will allow for the existence of witches?” Chris asked.

 

“It allows for anything it has information on. Since it can go almost anywhere in computers, especially government computers, it has all the info it needs to decide witches are a threat,” I said, Demidova Tower suddenly appearing before us as we came around a turn.

 

Arkady pulled us onto the down ramp to the underground parking, the guard rushing to activate the metal gate at the sight of us.

 

“You are likely correct, Declan. This thing—this program—will adapt and change as it has before. We must adapt and change to beat it. We will all meet at seven tonight, in the gym. Declan, bring your pets. We have much work to do,” Tanya said.

 

It was a little past two in the morning. I, for one, was going to try and get some sleep, after a hot shower. Tanya sounded… motivated. I needed her training… that was obvious, but it promised to be painful.

 

 

I slept the sleep of the dead for ten hours, getting up a little after noon. I got a sub and soda to go from the dining room staff and marched out of the building into the sunlight, leaving Things One and Two in the lobby near the reception/guard desk. The two guards on duty eyed my two rolling fun balls of death uncertainly but ultimately just made notes in their rune-covered computers and gave me a nod.

 

Outside, I found the city in full hustle mode, people streaming across busy streets and sidewalks. The building next to the Tower had a series of benches in front of it, so I sat my ass down and started in on the cheese steak sub, watching people rush about in the warm sun.

 

A few guys with cameras seemed to hover near the entrance to the tower, most likely paparazzi looking for a quick shot of Chris or Stacia, as the vampires were no doubt asleep. I was looking them all over when I realized someone was staring at me.

 

A familiar-looking Indian girl stood next to a disheveled photographer who was fumbling with his camera and tripod. His attention was on his equipment, but hers was on me. I made eye contact and then looked away quickly. Aunt Ash said not to make eye contact with New Yorkers. Too late. She was now headed my way.

 

“Hi there,” she said brightly when she was just ten feet away.

 

Politeness had been formally injected into my character from an early age by both mother and aunt. Despite my reservations, I answered her back.

 

“Hi yourself.”

 

“You work in the Tower? You’re one of the summer interns, right?” she asked.

 

I couldn’t stop the frown on my face. She noted it and laughed lightly. “Sorry, but it's kind of obvious. You’re a college-age kid, dressed in casual clothes, carrying lunch out of Demidova Tower. I’ve seen dozens of you over the last couple of days,” she said.

 

“What are you? Some kind of stalker? Hanging out in front of a business building for days on end?” I asked lightly.

 

She laughed again, a nice, clear laugh that made me smile despite my concerns.

 

“I’m Brystol Chatterjee,” she said, holding out a small hand. “I’m a reporter. Stalker works pretty well too.”

 

“Oh, no wonder you look familiar. I’ve seen your interviews with Chris and Tan… er… Miss Demidova,” I corrected. Her eyes narrowed as her grin widened.

 

“You know them on a first-name basis I see,” she said. It was a statement.

 

“Well, they’re very personable. They’ve met all the interns,” I explained.

 

“But, according to my sources, they have their own intern—a supernatural specialist. A young man of about your age, I hear,” she said.

 

“Wow, you have sources inside the Tower? That’s got to be worth gold to a reporter?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

 

“Well, the world is very curious about New York’s resident angel and vampire princess. And I’m the reporter who broke the story,” she said, with not a little pride.

 

“Yeah, I saw you on TV. You’re pretty famous yourself these days,” I said, sensing that flattery was working.

 

“And you’re very mysterious. A college kid who expertly deflects attention from himself, who knows the power couple on a first-name basis and is the only intern to travel around by himself,” she said.

 

“Ah well, you know. Small town kid, Big Apple. Don’t really know the other interns all that well yet,” I said.

 

“Hey Declan,” “Hi Declan,” “G’day Dec,” rang out from twenty yards away as Aleesha, Jodi, and Grace all walked up to the entrance to the Tower.

 

Damn.

 

“Yeah, I can see that,” she said, smirking. “Although my sources said the special intern was named Declan. What do you think are the odds that you and he have the same name?”

 

I tried a laugh, but it came out nervous. “Well, we have like two Johns, two Stephens, a couple of Alicias with minor variations in spelling, and three Moriahs. So, pretty good, I’d say,”

 

She pulled her smart phone and scrolled through something on the screen, nodding to herself. “Yup, you have all of those. But no other Declans.”

 

“You have a list of every intern’s name?” I asked, incredulous. “Just who the hell do you have for a source?” I asked, knowing she would be unlikely to answer.

 

“Hey Declan. You can’t just leave your pets in here,” a familiar voice rang out. I looked over to find Stacia standing in the Tower doorway. The paparazzi cameras started to click and snap like crazy. “Oh, hey Brystol,” she said, waving. “Seriously D, ya gotta move them to somewhere safe.”

 

“They’re perfectly fine right there,” I said back, not bothering to yell.

 

“You’re kidding, right? Just sitting there all rolled up? What happens when someone sits on one of them?” Stacia asked.

 

“Absolutely nothing. You could hit them with a sledgehammer and they won’t move,” I said, not completely certain that was true.

 

“Why don’t you humor me and take them to Chet. He’ll love them,” she said before turning and heading back inside. “Bye Brystol,” she called over one shoulder.

 

The cameras snapped and whirred even faster as she walked away.

 

“So that’s your source,” I said.

 

Brystol’s eyes gleamed. “Hah, so you are the special intern. You and I are going to have a long talk,” she said.

 

“Sorry, I’ve gotta go put away my toys,” I said.

 

“You know that every time she comes out that door, these guys snap about a billion shots of her? That she avoids this entrance like the plague? And yet she comes out to call you back inside. Hmmm. Interesting stuff, don’t you think, Declan?”

 

“Nice to meet you, Miss Chatterjee. Gotta run,” I said. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

 

“No maybes about it, Declan,” she said, eyeing me like a coyote with a T-bone steak.

 

I almost ran but managed to keep it to a fast shuffle. Fleeing the scary reporter for the safety of the werewolf, robot centipede, and vampire-filled building.