to again. 'No, I'm fine. Must have been the flight… Let's get this over with.'
Franks regarded me suspiciously as I walked after Harbinger and Myers. Finally, he nodded at three other agents. They picked up their gear and followed.
The group entered the main building, passing quickly through the entryway, as Earl was walking at a pace that indicated he wanted to get this done with. Agent Franks made note of the portcullis chained above us, almost approvingly.
'Welcome home, Z. Milo told me you'd killed yourself a mess of zombies,' Dorcas, our secretary, receptionist, and semi-retired Hunter, said from behind her massive desk. She looked like a typical matronly Southern grandma, except for the Ruger Redhawk bulging from the shoulder holster underneath her knit sweater. 'I can always count on you for a good killin' story or two, about the only entertainment I get around here nowadays.'
'Yes, ma'am, I'll tell you all about it after this meeting.'
When she spied the Feds coming up behind me, her smile vanished, and her eyes narrowed so dangerously that they turned into little slits. For a second it looked like she thought about going for that magnum. 'Myers…' she spat.
'Dorcas,' the senior Fed responded slowly.
'How's the traitor business treating you?'
Myers was unperturbed. 'Good, good… How's your leg?'
'It's made of plastic. How'd you think it's doing?'
'Yes, of course… Forgot. See you around.' Myers nodded smugly and followed Earl down the hallway. The hate-filled look that Dorcas cast after us almost peeled the paint off the walls. I paused for a moment. Our receptionist was usually cranky-hell, she was prepared to commit murder if any of the other employees messed with her lunch in the cafeteria fridge-but I had never seen her like that before.
I waited until the Feds were out of earshot. 'What's that about?'
She sneered. 'Old times… me and Judas there have a score to settle.'
'What'd he do?'
'He saved my life…' Dorcas shook her head and went back to answering the phones. 'Now get. I've got work to do.'
I caught up with the others as they were entering the smaller conference room we had set aside on the first floor. It was going to be a tight fit, but apparently Harbinger didn't want to give the Feds access to the nicer room on the second floor. Myers had stopped Earl in the hallway right in front of the wall of silver memorial plaques and was speaking. 'Just you, Shackleford, and Pitt. I have some very sensitive information, and it's on a need-to-know basis. My men will stay out here.'
'Negative.' My boss gestured at Trip and Holly. 'They're on my personal team. Anything you can say to me, you can say to them.'
'Your team?' Myers grew furious. His face turned red and he raised his voice. 'The great Earl Harbinger? Not keeping secrets from his team? That's new.' It was a surprising change in demeanor. The small man went to the memorial wall and started scanning back through the names, obviously looking for one in particular. He finally found the one he wanted, chronologically over a dozen deaths before the large number from the Christmas Party of '95, and stabbed his finger into it. 'No secrets? So, you've told your team about Marty then?'
Earl did not respond for several seconds. All the Feds except for Franks appeared surprised at their commander's sudden emotional outburst. Franks looked bored. The Hunters were confused. Finally my boss sighed, apparently not prepared to debate the point. It was shocking to see him back down on his own turf. 'You two, wait outside. Don't let these guys touch anything,' He pointed at the rest of the protective detail. Trip and Holly knew not to argue. They stepped aside.
I stopped to read the indicated plaque as the others entered the conference room. The plaque had a small picture of a young man with a sly grin on his chubby face.
A. Martin Hood
1/14/1960-10/17/1986
Nothing really set it apart from the other four hundred and some-odd other plaques on the wall. I went into the meeting.
Chapter 4
Franks and Myers sat on one side of the table, Earl, Julie, and I on the other. The senior Fed still seemed uncharacteristically angry. He gestured to the folder that he had given me. 'Open it.'
'Why the secrecy?' Julie asked.
'Open it,' Myers repeated. I dropped it on the table between us and flipped through the thick stack of papers. The top sheet was a sketch artist's interpretation of the shadow man from the flight home. 'The Sanctified Church of the Temporary Mortal Condition, or Condition for short, was founded ten years ago,' Myers stated, as if he had given this briefing a few times. 'They didn't come up on our radar for a while. We thought they were just another bunch of scam artists taking money from gullible morons, until they released this…' He pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Harbinger.
'A proclamation heralding the return of the Old Ones…' Earl frowned, 'It's a bunch of crap about welcoming our new overlords back to Earth.' He held up the paper, 'And a really bad drawing of some sort of sky squid.' I had seen that particular shape once before, while my disembodied spirit slugged it out with Lord Machado for control of space and time, only the picture didn't do it justice. In real life the Dread Overlord was as big across as ten aircraft carriers parked in a line.
'Check the date.' Franks spoke for the first time.
Julie leaned in to see. 'That was printed two days before Lord Machado tried to use the artifact in Childersburg, one day before we got killed in Natchy Bottom… So, they knew beforehand?'
'Yes, and once the whole world got to travel through time for five minutes, it really helped the Condition's recruiting,' Myers said. I was still really glad that the government didn't know that was my fault. 'They're growing, and the word is out that their leader, this guy'-Myers tapped the artist's rendition of the shadow man-'is building an army to help prepare the Earth for the Old Ones' return. Monster Control Bureau agents were sent to investigate, but we've had almost no luck and I've lost some good men. The Condition is brutal, devious, and their magic actually works, so our intel is extremely limited.'
'Who are they?' Julie asked.
Myers picked out another sheet. 'These are some of the members we know about, but they're just useful idiots, celebrities and suckers they're scamming money off of to fund their operations. We've investigated them thoroughly. As usual, they don't have a clue what they're into. Publically, the Condition is just another oddball religion. They preach about ending the greedy tyranny of man and building a perfect utopia on Earth, under the wise leadership of the benevolent Old Ones, of course.'
My side of the table gave a collective snort. We'd all dealt with those things before.
'I take it you can understand why my superiors are so concerned. This church has been recruiting monsters, various types of undead, and they even found a shoggoth somewhere.'
Earl picked up the picture of the Englishman. 'So I take it you can't find this asshole?'
'They call him their Shadow Lord. He's an enigma. All of their leadership is cloaked in secrecy. Finding him is where Pitt comes in. They'll be forced to send some of their operatives to get him, and when they do, we'll take them. My orders are to shut this church down, no matter what. I just need an in.'
'What? Worshipping giant space mollusks that want to enslave humanity isn't cool? What's next, you guys going to pick on the Scientologists?' I asked sarcastically.
'I'm sensing some serious First Amendment issues on this one,' Julie offered.
'ACLU's gonna be pissed,' Harbinger responded.
I laughed. Franks leaned forward, flipped through the stack, and pulled out a glossy crime-scene photo. He shoved it at me. It was, or had been, a woman. She had been brutally torn to bits. The laughter died off.
'Oh… That's terrible,' Julie said.
'That was our last undercover agent to infiltrate the inner circle of the Condition, Special Agent Ashley
