named, appropriately, Bad Bob. Bad Bob had once gotten the upper hand on me, and I was still vulnerable to him in magical ways.
Ways that I was having a very hard time controlling. The sickening thing was that as I studied the approaching hurricane, and felt the black torch on my back burn brighter, some part of me
It terrified me.
I had been denying it for days now, but it wasn’t a tattoo.
It was a Demon Mark, put there by the scariest Demon alive.
And I really didn’t know how to stop it.
“Jo!” A male voice bellowed in my ear, and I clawed rain-soaked hair out of my eyes and turned to look. It was my fellow Warden Lewis Orwell—the boss, actually. The CEO of magically gifted humans.
Panic didn’t look good on him.
“It’s not working!” I yelled back. The wind whipped the words right out of my mouth. He nodded and wrestled a yellow storm slicker around my shoulders, holding me steady while I put it on. There. I shivered in sudden relief as the rain pummeled the plastic instead of my skin, but it was just animal reaction. There was no such thing as true relief right now. “We have to get out of here, Lewis!
A bolt of lightning the thickness of a skyscraper tore through the false night, arcing over the bowl of the sky. It shattered into a thousand stabbing branches. In the glow, Lewis looked worse than I’d expected—tired, of course, and unshaven, but also pallid. He’d pushed himself to the limit, and it hadn’t worked.
If the most powerful Warden on the planet, connected to a network of hundreds of
“Get on the ship,” he yelled over the wind. “We need to get it out of the harbor,
I looked past him to the massive floating castle of the
“It’s stable!” he shouted back. “I’d take a destroyer if I could get my hands on one, but this’ll have to do. It’s fully provisioned and ready to go. It’s our only option right now, unless you want to try to take this thing here!”
Yeah, I had to admit, our options were fairly limited. Die on shore or make a run for it and hope the storm wheeled to follow, sparing the city.
Still. A cruise ship? Granted, Wardens generally don’t travel cheap. That’s practicality. When you have the power to control the elements of the planet—like living things, geologic forces, wind, and water—and when those elements get
First class, of course. It’s not all about the free champagne. Although that’s good, too.
Taking all that into consideration, commandeering the
The problem was that up to about an hour ago, it had been boarding for its normal, tame cruise business. Granted, the storm had reversed that process, but even so, it took time to de-board three thousand passengers, not to mention the thousand or so crew members. Police were on-site, guiding the confused, angry, terrified tourists out of the boarding area and off to waiting buses to take them to shelter. It was chaos, complicated by pile-driving rain and wind, and I expected it only to get worse.
I’d been watching the steady stream of humanity with a kind of stunned, detached disbelief. As a Warden, I would never pack myself into a ship so full of people and go out to tempt fate—not recreationally, anyway. It’s a fact of life: Wardens draw storms, and not just any storms. They might start out as forces of nature, but they develop their own personalities once they reach a certain level of power.
And they develop intelligence. The one thing that seems consistent about storms is that whatever their origin, they seem to really
Lucky us.
It seemed counterproductive to be boarding a ship under the present circumstances, but Lewis knew what he was doing.
If we moved, it would likely follow. Bad for us, good for the millions of people in the Miami area who were looking at a worst-case-disaster scenario.
A year ago, we would never have dared try to snatch a ship like this in broad (if stormy) daylight, but times were changing. The Wardens had been around since the last spire of Atlantis slipped under the waves, but they’d existed in secret, a kind of paranormal FEMA that was noticed only when it failed. Governments rose and fell, but they all worked with us. They all funded us.
They really had no choice.
Now, though, it wasn’t all hush-hush and top secret. We’d come out to the public. We’d had to; we’d pushed the secrecy as far as it could reasonably go, and in an age when every person had a cell phone and a video camera our days of operating in deep cover were long gone. We were tired of exerting energy to keep people quiet.
The new strategy—of which I’d been a part—was to just let the chips fall where they may. Less work on our part, which was good, because our ranks had been thinned recently.
The upside of coming out in public was that when we said we needed the
So—there had been a whole lot of orders issued from the highest levels of government, and cash passed both under and over the table by the Wardens to make sure that everyone bought in. All that had taken time, and lawyers, and paperwork, and we’d burned up our safety margin in trying to make this happen in an expeditious fashion that didn’t involve just storming the ship and pirating it away.
Hence the black morning, and the looming disaster. Sometimes, piracy is the only really efficient way to go.
Lewis took my arm and steadied me against the wind as we staggered down the harbor’s spacious walkway—now crowded with confusion—toward the gangway. It still burped out passengers, though in uneven groups now rather than as a steady flow. The Wardens were clustered and ready to board. Standing at the mouth of the flapping canvas of the covered gangway was my best friend, Cherise, decked out in the latest in bright yellow hurricane-wear. She had a cute little clipboard, and she was checking off Wardens as they moved past her, flashing smiles and thumbs-up signs.
There were a total of one hundred seventeen Wardens gathered in Miami today. Not all of them would be coming with us on the
We’re still waiting for her to get over it.