I closed my eyes. Not the Library. I wasn’t the type to do research and compile records. The very idea made me want to leap into the Abyss.
Wu sighed. It was a long, drawn out sigh, filled with regret, the kind of sigh that told the listener if things were different it would instead have been a sigh of satisfaction.
I opened one eye. Wu shook her head.
“You are very fortunate we need you in the field tonight.” She glanced at the old-style gold wristwatch with a slender maroon band she wore on her left wrist. “It’s only eight o’clock. Why is it trouble is always double on the longest night of the year?”
I blinked. Wu quoting an old R.U.N.E. Academy saying? She didn’t seem the type to quote a saying about manifested mayhem being worse on Solstice.
She pursed her lips. “By rights, despite the need, I should send you back to the Silos or give you a Library assignment. You left quite a mess in Peoria, Sorcerer-Agent.”
I continued keeping my mouth closed, listening. Things were looking up.
She cocked her head at me, obviously expected me to respond.
“Yes, Ma’am,” I intoned.
“You could try sounding like you meant it,” Wu said. She stared sadly at the teleportal. “Needs must,” she whispered. She turned back to me, basilisk glare back.
“You will stay in the field, for now. You’ll continue in a field agent capacity for tonight.”
Tonight. I definitely wasn’t off the hook. Sure, it was the longest night of the year, but it was just one night.
Wu looked at cardigan-sweater-clipboard-man. “Carter, would you please bring the paroled manifestation we discussed earlier?” She asked him.
The man nodded. He went to an oak chest, bound with iron bands, and inserted a skeleton key in the lock. “Open,” he said. The lock clicked open. He raised the lid and reached inside, lifting what looked like a gunmetal cylinder about a foot long and brought it over.
“Please give it to Sorcerer-Agent Marquez,” Wu ordered.
He placed it in my arms. My sorcerer’s vision brought the object’s true nature into focus. The cylinder was actually a giant jade chrysalis, about a foot long. It was warm in my hands.
I cocked an eyebrow. “A fly-by-night?”
Wu nodded. “Yes.”
Let me out, a voice said in my head.
My eyes widened. “It’s awake.”
“Yes, but bound in its chrysalis.” She paused, face expressionless. “Provided no one releases it.” She emphasized no one.
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m transporting a criminal? Why isn’t it in the Silos?”
Wu regarded me coolly. “Following instructions is part of being a good field agent, Marquez,” she said.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t get to ask questions.” I wasn’t going to be played. R.U.N.E. agents had a duty to ask questions. Wu knew that.
“Indeed,” Wu said. “This Class III manifestation does not have criminal status.”
I crossed my arms. “But it’s in trouble, is that it?”
“It has failed to register itself and as such has been bound for service.”
Ah, that explained it. A Class III supernatural had existed long enough to become solid, but it wasn’t permanent, not yet. Manifestations needed a bit more time to become fully permanent, Class IV or above.
The Laws of the Compact said that solid demi-permanents, Class III manifestations, that had failed to pledge those same laws were then bound to the service of sorcerers and wizards until such time as they had either earned their permanency or had been dissolved.
“Whose service?” I asked.
“Skyler Farlance, the Regional Director for the Pacific Northwest,” she replied. “The same regional director who you will be reporting to for tonight’s assignment.”
My ears perked up at the name. I’d heard stories about Skyler Farlance. He was a second-order wizard, which put him way above me in magical ability. He’d been involved in stopping the Black Ring’s assassination attempt on the United Nations five years ago. The word was he was a real lady-killer. The photos I’d seen of him showed a strikingly handsome and always sharply-dressed blond--movie star looks and apparently charisma to match.
Rumor had it he’d had a dozen lovers in R.U.N.E., and more outside the agency.
Rumor was often wrong. But everyone agreed he was an Adonis in a bespoke suit. Fine if you loved the chiseled, well-tailored type.
He wasn’t my type.
I liked tall, dark, handsome, and earthy. The kind with muscles, a quiet smile that made my toes curl. Now, that was the real deal.
Wu frowned. “Are you paying attention, Sorcerer Marquez?” she asked, her voice suddenly even more stiff and formal.
I blinked. My thoughts had strayed. “Yes, Director,” I said, struggling to get back to the briefing. It had been far too long since I’d had a date, but now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. I needed to prove I could I complete this assignment. I was mentally running in circles. Spending the past six months out of circulation, four of them helping guard a Gods-forsaken silo in the middle of North Dakota, had made me antsy for action.
Wu’s gaze locked on mine. “Good, because you must always remember the first rule. You do remember the first rule, correct?”
“Pay attention,” I replied automatically. Gods, she was channeling my first teacher, Wanda the Merciless.
Wu nodded. “Very good, Sorcerer Agent. Take the sealed chrysalis and report to Regional Director Farlance. Follow his orders to the letter. Understood?”
I nodded. Portland was better than Peoria, and way better than the Silos, but it wasn’t the big time, arcane speaking, in my book. Plus, I was from there, so it didn’t have the same appeal as the East Coast. I’d kill to get assigned to London, or Paris, but I’d settle for New York City.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, trying my best to sound like a professional who could indeed be assigned to New York City, London, Paris, or even Chicago. A little voice in the back of my head was saying I was screwed, but I
