ones conjured by westerners tend to look like devils or angels, people tend to make assumptions. So, do you at least have a theory as to where Power comes from?'
Sullivan chewed his last bite of steak, thinking. 'Oh, I do. Don't mean I'm right, or that I can prove it. I think magic is a force. I don't know from where. I don't know if it is alive, or if it's intelligent, but it picks people here and attaches itself to them. I can't make heads or tails out of why it picks who it does, but some of us can touch a little piece of it, some more than others, and we can use that little bit to do something to influence the physical world. What we can do depends entirely on what little bit of the Power we can personally reach.'
The other two shared a surprised look. 'Not bad…' Heinrich said. 'You come up with this on your own?'
'Yep.' Sullivan didn't add that he'd figured out a whole lot more than that. As far as he knew, he was the only person who'd put together how a few different Powers were related, and how he'd been able to stretch his into the adjoining areas a tiny bit. But that was his secret. It was time for the Grimnoir men to share some of theirs. 'Funny, I've been doing all the eating and the talking, and I still ain't got no more answers.'
'What if I told you that we know the real history of magic?'
'I wasn't born in Missouri, but I'd say show me, Dan.' Mar Pacifica, California Francis stayed in the back of the room. He'd known General Pershing for most of his life. He was almost like a second father, especially since he'd done a much better job being an example of manhood than Francis's real father, and it pained him deeply to see the General in his current state. His body seemed to deteriorate a little more every day since he'd been cursed by the mysterious Pale Horse. Jane exhausted her Powers on a daily basis fixing all of the new health problems, and even she had to admit that at this point, Black Jack was living off of sheer determination alone.
If they could just figure out who it was that had cursed their leader, then the Grimnoir would kill the wretched Pale Horse and break the spell. They all suspected that it must have happened during the Imperium's attack against their old headquarters. The General had fallen ill shortly after. A Pale Horse had to touch his victim to bind the curse, so it must have been during the chaos of the battle. They'd done everything they could over the last few years to track down the Imperium's agents, but even after assassinating every one they could lay their hands on, they still hadn't found their Pale Horse.
The General's hands were so paper-thin that sunlight could be seen through his skin. It was hard to believe that those were the same hands that had taught him how to throw a ball, how to ride a horse, how to shoot a gun. It won't be much longer now, Francis thought, then hated himself for thinking it.
The girl, Faye, was showing the General her Grandpa's treasure. Whatever it was had certainly gotten the attention of Lance Talon, and he wasn't a man who riled easily. Lance had told Mr. Browning what had been printed on the device, and the second-in-command had immediately said that they needed to take it directly to the General.
The old gentleman, John Browning, had joined them. He stood on the other side of the bed, tall, regally thin, and extremely bald. Nearly eighty, his mind was still the sharpest amongst them. He studied the device with intelligent eyes, obviously worried by what he saw. So that meant that two of the most experienced American Grimnoir were distressed by whatever the presence of the device suggested. The General gestured with one palsied hand, and Mr. Browning lifted the small piece of metal, carefully reading the nameplate again. He let out his breath in a long, low whistle. 'I would be forced to say that this is the real thing, General.'
'I was afraid of this…' the General rasped. 'I told them that we should have destroyed the pieces when we had the chance… The fools thought we might need the weapon someday… Who else knows where the other pieces are hidden?' The weakness of his voice made Francis cringe.
'Only the senior members of the Society,' Browning replied. 'The elders of course, it was their order. Here? Only you, I, Mr. Talon-' he nodded at Lance-'and Mr. Garrett. We were all sworn to secrecy. The others that knew were lost in the last attack. Even the knights entrusted with a piece did not know the others' whereabouts. None of the junior members should know.'
'The Chairman has found out somehow… I feared this day would come.'
'We thought them finding Jones was a coincidence, that the Imperium ran into him on accident. He had the blueprints for the Geo-Tel, but we thought they'd been burned.' Lance was speaking. 'We've got to assume that the Chairman has got the plans. I tried Christiansen, but no response on his ring, and he don't have a phone.'
'What's going on?' Faye asked. 'What are y'all talking about?' But the seniors were too involved in their discussion of mysterious devices and conspiracies to pay the young lady any mind.
Francis caught himself staring at Faye, even though she wasn't his type. He was no stranger to the ladies. That's what happened when you grew up in a family with money to burn and a line of eligible women who wanted to marry into that kind of money. Then when he'd gone off to school his father and grandfather had encouraged him to sow his wild oats and get such foolishness out of the way. He'd bedded half the lovelies in Boston, all of the reputable prostitutes, and still had plenty of time left over for drinking and gambling, but that was before he'd turned his attentions to the more serious business of saving the world and pissing off his family.
In comparison to other girls, Faye seemed rather drab, with her simple clothes that only hid too skinny a figure, plain features, and a complete lack of refinement. At best he'd consider her cute. She obviously came from poverty and a total lack of education, but something about her kept snagging his attention, and he couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe it was those strange grey eyes.
Or perhaps it was her refreshing directness. 'Excuse me, you old mummy.' Faye raised her voice. 'That's my gizmo you're pawin' over. My Grandpa died for it, and I came a long way to find out why.' Browning and Pershing ceased speaking immediately. 'Thatmore like it.'
'My apologies,' the General whispered. 'Your grandfather was a very good man, and you have my condolences. We are members of the Grimnoir Society, an organization that stands against the darkest magics.'
'He was once a member and helped in one of our gravest missions,' Browning said. 'This item you brought here is a part of the most destructive weapon ever created by the hand of man, and in the summer of 1908, we stopped it from being fired on the United States. Thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, would have perished.'
'And now if you'll let the grownups finish talking, we've got to figure out how to keep the evilest bastard in the world from putting it back together and killing us all,' Lance finished. 'So shush.' Western Colorado 'So, you're a secret organization that protects Actives…' Sullivan took a long drag from the second cigarette he'd bummed off of Garrett. The train was rolling into the sunset, and the dining car only had a few other people in it, including a young couple, a businessman, an old woman, and the bored waiter loafing at the far side of the cabin. Nobody was close enough to listen in. 'And fights evil magic?'
'Basically, yes.'
'Define evil.'
'It's pretty self-explanatory,' Garrett exclaimed.
'Dan, one man's evil is another man's politics.' Sullivan had once gone to prison for doing what he knew to be the right thing, and that wasn't too long after fighting in a war where both sides thought of themselves as the good guys, but that didn't stop them from slaughtering each other by the thousands with every tool at hand.
'I can't define evil, but I sure as hell know when I see it,' Heinrich said.
Sullivan grunted in affirmation. 'And I thought you said Dan was the one that was good with words.'
'We do whatever it takes to stop those who would use magic to enslave others. On the other hand, we also fight those who would punish all magicals for the actions of a few. There are powerful Actives who would like to put the entire world under their boot. They see themselves as the logical end of the eugenicist's argument, the answer to Darwin's theory. On the other side are the normals who are so scared of magic that they would love nothing more than to just stamp us out of existence.'
Sullivan had smoked the fag down to nothing, and stubbed it out in the ashtray. If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. 'So if it's so good, why's it secret?'
'Those of us that join the Society must fight in the shadows. There are forces at work, whole nations, and things even bigger than nations that would have us fail. They'd hunt us down, and if they couldn't destroy us, they'd kill everyone we love.'
Sullivan pondered Dan's last few words. He seemed to be telling the truth, or at least he believed he was. 'Does the U.S. government know about you?'
'Parts of it…' Garrett said hesitantly, glancing around the room. 'It's complicated.'
'I'm an American first, Active second,' Sullivan growled. Despite it being run by a bunch of idiots, Sullivan
