Chapter 01

Atticus Daniels was up at seven a.m. sharp, as he always was, but today he was faced with an unusual amount of morning freetime. The last few weeks had been hectic to say the least, but things were starting to calm down now. Margaret had moved them into the new facility, an amazing space regardless of how much time she’d had to pull it together, and they’d begun the dual tasks of bulking out the new team and gathering as much data on these gates as they could.

The first task was still a work in progress. Margaret had taken over as their head of operations and her two top staffers, Jomo and Kim, reported directly to her and handled most of the day to day logistics. Allen Becker had been given control of the field team, a wise choice, and he answered only to Margaret herself. Kevin Hughes and Hector Morales had stayed on at Allen’s request, though neither was fully committed to their cause long term. As far as Atticus knew, they were being paid on a gate by gate basis, essentially an extension of their original contract with the Order.

The Order, the secret Catholic society that had drawn them into this mess in the first place, had provided two field agents of their own; Absolon Benoit, a man they had worked with for a short time in Appalachia, and Sophia Taube, an Israeli national oddly enough, who had been working with the Order for the past year and a half. Both were capable and had passed Allen’s interview process without issue.

Rounding out the field team was Micah Talbot, another acquaintance of Allen, Hughes and Morales, who specialized in the technology side of things, drones and the like. Considering that both Jomo and Olivia Ellis had military training as well, they could now field quite a force if need be. A nice change of pace from their first encounters with these strange beings.

The rest of the old team had been grouped into what was being called the investigative unit. Olivia Ellis, Hayden Fritz and Noah Benjamin all had some degree of military or police training, though in Benjamin’s case it was almost negligible, and Margaret had decided to use them as a backup team of sorts. The designation might have rankled some egos, mainly Hayden’s, but they had found enough work for everyone since they’d started settling in at the new facility that no one had been left to twiddle their thumbs long enough to get worked up.

That left Joe and himself as the odd men out. The priest was being used as a go-between for Margaret and the Order, which seemed to keep him busy enough, but he had no official title within the Wynters Tech organization like the others. Even Atticus was a contractor like Hughes, Morales and Talbot. When he wasn’t acting as a messenger, Joe joined Atticus in advising Margaret, though neither man solicited their advice unasked at this point. Margaret had been, and frankly still was, vocally critical of how Atticus and Joe had handled things before her involvement and though she’d had the tact not to say it outright, she clearly blamed them for Jack’s death.

A fair assessment as far as Atticus was concerned, though it pained him daily to admit it.

The only other two members of the team that remained in limbo were the Raven and the Moon Eyed Prince. Both had come from the same place as these other creatures, but both had also seemed willing to help them in their mission to keep innocent people out of harm's way. Each had saved lives during their short time in the team’s midst and as far as the original members of their little group were concerned, they could and should be trusted. Margaret and the Order seemed less sure about them however and that was causing some mild friction in their new team. The Order had no say in the matter, but Margaret had taken precautions that had rankled some feathers among Becker’s men and Olivia especially. Neither of the non-humans was confined to a designated room or space, but they were not permitted to leave the Wynters Tech facility without permission under any circumstances.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true, Atticus admitted to himself. They had been asked not to leave and had agreed, temporarily at least. Atticus was of the opinion that they might be able to stop the Raven leaving if they wanted to, but the small glowing humanoid, known simply as the Prince in their close circle, was a different story. Some of the others had taken a liking to him, Atticus personally owed him his life, but that didn’t mean him felt any less uneasy about this thing’s place among them. He didn’t know how long these two visitors would remain compliant, but that was a problem for another day.

The second task, the compiling of information on these gates, had gone far better. The original device that they had used to locate and monitor the gates had been destroyed along with their original base of operations. During the cleanup, though cover up was probably a better term for it, Margaret’s people had inspected the original machine and then replicated a far superior version with a much better range than the original. They could now monitor the Americas, Iberia, parts of West Africa and the Pacific Islands east of Australia. Luckily Margaret had facilities all over the globe and even now she was planning on placing two more machines on the African and Eurasian continents to provide them with total global coverage on a closed Wynters Tech network.

In the meantime, her people had acquired readouts from similar machines all over the world with a speed the original team could never have matched. Atticus had viewed the readouts with her once and they had seemed totally chaotic and undecipherable, yet she and her staff seemed to understand them perfectly. Soon they had located various gates, or potential gates, outside of their current zone of coverage as well as indications that the gates in Appalachia and the Cascades hadn't been the first in what the Raven had called this cycle.

It seemed possible that there had been a crossover event over a month ago in the southern swamps of Louisiana, though with no concrete leads Margaret had been slow to react. She had only recently sent the investigative unit to check things out and even that had taken some convincing from Atticus and Joe. The last time one of these things crossed over, there had been a clear trail of death and destruction to follow, and he and Joe had reasoned that it wouldn’t take the investigative group long to find something if it was there. If it was, Becker and his men could be flown in as backup without too much risk to anyone involved, legal or physical. Margaret had come around, but it hadn’t been easy or pleasant.

Personally, Atticus wasn’t thrilled with splitting the team up if more of those things might be lurking out in the bayou, but the decision had proved a good one. Just yesterday two rifts they had been monitoring for weeks had graduated to gate status in Michigan and southern Florida respectively. Within twelve hours the machine had read something passing through the Florida gate and their choice had been made for them. Jomo and Hughes, the two best outdoorsmen in the group, had gone to monitor the Michigan gate, the idea being that they could track anything that appeared in the wilds up there until backup arrived, while the rest of the field agents had gone with Allen to handle whatever had just come through the southernmost gate.

Walking out of his small room and into the common area of the onsite dorms, he felt the emptiness of the place. Margaret, Joe, Kim and himself were the only humans in the building, though the Raven and the Moon Eyed Prince had to be around somewhere. The common area was fairly spartan outside of the large TV that sat in front of a semicircle of comfortable couches and chairs. Besides the entertainment space, there was a small kitchen and six tall bookcases packed full of a variety of fiction and non-fiction for every taste imaginable. Perhaps the oddest thing about the room was the insane number of doors. Each of the sixteen small bedrooms had a doorway connecting directly to the common space and in addition to these there were the massive double doors that led out onto the production floor and the smaller set of double doors that led into the EDTF designated spaces hidden along the backside of the facility.

The production floor constituted almost two thirds of the entire facility and for good reason. The EDTF was not a government sanctioned, or even entirely legal, venture, and the only way they were managing to pay for it and carry out its activities was because Margaret was hiding it in the newly launched military defense division of Wynters Tech. So far the focus was on improved body armor, non-lethal crowd control options and higher capacity magazines for assault rifles, but none of that concerned the rank and file of the EDTF team as it truly existed.

The spaces designated for their usage all lay outside the massive production floor and out of sight. If Atticus were to go through the smaller double doors, he would find himself in the training room/gymnasium. Beyond that he could go to the workroom where the investigative unit was supposed to be housed, along with the machine they used to monitor the gates, and past that was the garage where the field team’s equipment and vehicles were stored. The last few weeks these spaces had been crowded with people, but now they lay as empty as when they’d first arrived.

Ignoring the smaller set of doors, Atticus pushed his way through the larger pair and stepped out onto the production floor. Not a single living soul worked out here; the entire process, or processes he supposed, had been automated from beginning to end. The constant whirring, hums and hisses that issued from the army of robotic arms and industrial machinery was strangely calming, if a bit eerie, especially when you were alone like this. He came out here more than most of the team since it was the quickest way to Margaret’s office, and despite being on her shit list, he still visited the place fairly often. More so than anyone else anyway.

They weren’t scheduled to meet until later in the day, but Atticus knew she’d be awake and he saw no sense in wasting time between now and then if they were both up and ready to get going. He pulled his weary, compact frame up the steep metal staircase until he reached a heavy metal door. Pressing the intercom button to the door’s right he said, “It’s Atticus, Kim. Can you buzz me in if Margaret is in there? If not, I can just come back later.”

The woman on the other end of the intercom didn’t respond, she rarely did, but the door’s lock clicked anyway and he was able to pull the heavy door open and step into a small hallway that ended in yet another security door. Once he stepped through that one he would still need to bypass the small hip high gate that ran from Kim’s desk to the wall, blocking access to the main office. He wasn’t fond of this little ritual, Kim clearly did not care for him, none of the Wynters Tech people seemed to, and he had no problem understanding why.

Margaret was an impressive woman who seemed genuinely invested in her people no matter how small their role in her organization. They in turn seemed to be unerringly loyal to her. Atticus assumed over the course of her time working with many of these people they had swapped life stories and that in many of Margaret’s, Atticus had not been a positive figure. Ex-fiance's seldom were he mused as he entered into the office proper.

“Morning Kim,” Atticus said to the slight Korean woman who was peering at him disdainfully over her laptop.

“You’re early. Very early,” she said flatly, not opening the gate to let him further into the office.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Atticus said. It was true. He hadn’t been able to sleep without help since Jack had died feet from him in that house of horrors only a few weeks past. When he did finally manage to rest or pass out from sheer exhaustion, the nightmare was always the same. It was always his fault. He was always too late. The worst part was that waking up didn’t help.

“Just let him in,” Margaret called from around the corner.

Kim said nothing, but the gate suddenly swung free and Atticus pushed wordlessly past the disgruntled young woman. “What in God’s name did you tell them about me?” Atticus said gruffly as he plopped down into the now familiar leather chair on the other side of Margaret’s impressive corner desk.

“Nothing that wasn’t true,” Margaret said as she looked over some papers on her desk. Atticus knew better than to ask what they were. Margaret told him what she thought he needed to know, when she thought he needed to know it. “Those ambien aren’t helping then?”

“They do just fine,” Atticus said. “I take a break once and awhile, that’s all.”

“Probably smart,” Margaret murmured without looking at him. This habit of talking to someone without ever once looking at them was a new one. The Margaret he’d known all those years ago had been very attentive, always one to hang on every word. “I’m glad you came early,” she continued, “best for you and I to talk before Joseph arrives. I know you think we can trust him, and I’m inclined to agree, but he is compromised by his Order membership. If we’re going to be meeting with Kirchmann today, best we keep some things from our priest.”

“Like what?” Atticus said, slightly confused.

“I just want to reaffirm between the two of us that we are tolerating the Order and their involvement because we have to and for Joseph’s sake. After everything I’ve heard about this Norton bastard, I don’t want these guys anywhere near my operation. Joe seems to think that there is trust to be earned here. I just want to make sure you understand that that is not the case as far as I see things.”

“Why not just wait and hear what they have to say?” Atticus said gingerly. “Kirchmann and Norton are two very different men. If they can offer real assistance, we shouldn’t turn that away. I have a feeling help is going to be harder and harder to come by the longer this goes on.”

“Just make sure that you don’t let Joe weasel you into ganging up on me in front of the Order,” she snapped, and now she was looking at him, like a hawk looks at a mouse. Why she felt this was an issue was beyond Atticus, but he tried to let it roll off his back.

“It won’t be an issue,” Atticus said, holding his hands up in surrender. “What time are they supposed to be arriving?”

“Nine,” she said, back to her papers. “Then I’m sitting down with the Prince. He and I need to have a chat.”

“About what?” Atticus said. This was the first he was hearing of this.

“I’m not totally sure yet,” Margaret said pensively. “Of our two guests, he seems both more dangerous and less likely to lie to my face. I want to pick his brain is all. We’re in the thick of it again and I see no reason to put it off any longer.”

“Do you want me to sit in on that one or…” Atticus began.

“You and Kim will be present,” she cut in.

“Ok...and after that?”

“You will check in with the various groups in the field and we’ll see whether or not Allen and his men can handle one of these crossovers in record time. I want to stay on top of these things, Atticus. No more chasing shadows around in the woods. We do it quick and clean and we move on.”

“You think Allen will be able to establish enough of a connection to give us a live feed?” Atticus asked.

“He has the best gear money can buy,” Margaret scoffed. “There isn’t anywhere on earth shy of the poles where his equipment won’t work. Hell he’d even have a good shot there. The feed won’t be an issue. I just don’t want anything going sideways on my watch.”

Ignoring her criticisms, Atticus pulled out his phone and began scrolling through news stories. This was how most of he and Margaret’s private conversations went. Things started cool and, before they got too cold, Atticus would retreat. He didn’t mind really. He hadn’t sought Margaret out all these years for a reason. They weren’t compatible. Never had been. Besides, his job for decades had been to be in the loop, but since he’d been entangled in this strange venture he’d found himself woefully uninformed. Better to get used to it than let himself get riled up.

They sat like this for almost an hour until Joe arrived.

“Didn’t we say eight thirty?” he asked as he took the chair next to Atticus.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Atticus said. Joe looked concerned, but Atticus ignored him. The man could save his fucking pity. Wouldn’t change a goddamn thing anyway.

“Can we assume your friends will be on time?” Margaret asked.

“Monsignor Kirchmann is a punctual man,” Joe said, letting his eyes drift from Atticus to Margaret. “I’d be surprised if he wasn’t here early.”

“Well then we need to get something straight quickly, Joseph. You work for them, but you reside here, under my roof. Let me handle the Order. If they prompt you to speak, do so, but do not interject on behalf of the EDTF or Wynters Tech in general. You know where I stand on the important things and I’ll not have you bringing up old arguments just because you have backup.” She was glaring at him the same way she’d glared at Atticus earlier, but Joe met her gaze levelly, something Atticus could not bring himself to do most days.

“I am on your side Margaret. I will do nothing to embarrass or undermine you in front of my brothers or anywhere else.” Joe’s tone was steady, but there was a bit of aggressiveness there too. Atticus wasn’t positive, but he got the sense that Joe did not approve of Margaret constantly needling Atticus. He even thought they might have gotten into a shouting match over it. He hoped not though. He deserved what he got from Margaret and more. Joe didn't need to spare him that. If anything, he needed to accept his part of the blame and stop making things worse.

“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it,” Margaret said coldly.

“Ms. Wynters,” Kim said from around the corner. “A car has just pulled up in front of the facility. Looks like the priests.”

“Fifteen minutes early,” Margaret said, “good instincts Joseph. Now if you wouldn't mind fetching your accomplices.”

Joe rose from his seat and left the office silently.

“Starting things off on a good foot,” Atticus said softly.

“The man needs to learn his place,” she snapped back.

Atticus said nothing, but waited patiently as Kim watched Joe retrieve their guests via the facility's many cameras and then let them in through the threefold security barriers leading into the office. Atticus rose as the four men entered and tried to gauge Margaret’s impression of this odd group of men Joe had brought them.

Kirchmann led the group, his small, wizened frame and kindly face making him seem more grandfatherly than authoritative. Behind him was Joe, looking calmer in the company of his fellow priests, and two others Atticus had never seen before. The older of the two newcomers was olive skinned with a thick black beard and wide frame reminiscent of the late Bishop Norton. The other man looked younger than Joe by about ten years, pale and slight, but lacking the confidence of the other three men. He seemed to be hanging back and observing more than anything else.

“Atticus Daniels,” Atticus said as he shook the two new men’s hands.

“Father Jabari,” the larger, dark skinned man said in an accent that reminded Atticus of time he’d spent in North Africa. “Mustafa Jabari.”

“Henrik Lehman,” the younger man said in a shaky voice.

Margaret did not rise, but gestured to the open seats and the couch that sat in a rough semi-circle around her L-shaped desk. Atticus, Joe and Kirchmann took the three armchairs while Jabari and Henrik sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch, looking odd in their dark robes and sandals.

“So good to see you again Ms. Wynters,” Kirchmann said genially in his soft, pleasant voice. “I hope that you are well? It seems that things have been quite exciting around here the last few days.”

“I see Joseph has been keeping you up to date,” Margaret said.

“I thought that was my purpose,” Joe replied, eyebrows raised. “That and running various errands no one else has time for.”

“It is,” Margaret said shortly before returning her attention to the small man seated before her. “We have sent teams into the field recently but it is too early to tell what they might find. Florida seems the most urgent at the moment, but even that could be a misread by the system. We should know more by the end of the day, but how much more is hard to say. Given that all we can do presently is wait, I’d say it is the perfect time for you to explain why you requested a face to face meeting. You seem like a good man Monsignor, but your predecessor has given me more than enough reason to keep you and your people at an arm's length.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Kirchmann nodded slowly as she spoke and by the time she had finished he looked downright morose. “We are not unaware of the damage Matthias Norton did to our cause,” the small man said, “but he paid a terrible price for his actions, actions he took without our full consent or knowledge. He kept us in the dark as much as he did your colleagues, though we did not suffer as your people suffered. Had he survived the ordeal in North Carolina, he would have been expelled if not defrocked. Given that the past cannot be changed, my goal with this meeting was to take the first step in rebuilding a trust between our two organizations. We have no idea what may come and allies will be few and far between if you mean to keep this quiet. You do mean to keep this quiet I assume?”

“It seems prudent at this juncture,” Margaret said. “As for a rebuilding of trust, I’m not sure you grasp how much trust has been lost.”

“I’m afraid I do,” Kirchmann said, shaking his head sadly. “You’ve declined numerous offers for men and access to our on-the-ground networks without hesitation, and you’ve kept Joseph as an unnecessary buffer between us. The feeling you have towards the Order, and subsequently myself, is quite clear. Like I said, I am here as a first step. I have no expectations of full contrition between us anytime in the near future.”

“And these gentlemen?” Margaret said, gesturing to the two priests sitting hip to hip on the leather couch. “Why have you brought them? I specifically turned down your offers for more men and yet here they are? Did you intend to leave them here or are they your personal guard?” Her tone was half joking, but it was clear she did not appreciate the presence of the extra priests. Literal guards might have upset her less.

“Ah yes,” Kirchmann said, swiveling in his chair to look at the two men. “The rather menacing fellow here is Father Mustafa Jabari, an expert on the folk traditions and mythology of the African and Islamic world and to his right is Father Henrik Lehman, another expert on folk traditions and mythology, though his expertise lean towards the European and American varieties. I believe that they may prove invaluable in your efforts down the road, and seeing as I am going to be taking Joseph away for a short time, I figured they would serve as adequate…”

“Going away? Going where?” Margaret cut him off, looking from Kirchmann to Joe rapidly. “When was this decided?”

Kirchmann looked genuinely shocked at her reaction, but Joe was glaring back at her angrily. “You would have made it an issue so I kept it to myself. It will only be for a few days. I left my congregation abruptly and some loose ends need tying off. The Order will need a representative here while I’m gone and I knew you would make that process more difficult than it needed to be.”

Before Margaret could explode, Atticus cut in. “You should have known better, Joe. This isn’t exactly helping with the issues of trust.”

“It most certainly is not,” Kirchmann almost whispered as he looked sideways at Joe. Atticus wasn’t sure the older man was capable of a truly scathing look, but the look he was giving Joe now might be the closest thing to it.

Taking a steadying breath, Margaret said, “Obviously if Joseph needs to leave, he will leave, but what do I need with two folklorists from the Catholic Church?”

“If I may, Monsignor,” Jabari said in a deep, sonorous voice.

“Please,” Kirchmann said, still eyeing Joe with disapproval and sounding happy to take a small respite from this mostly unpleasant conversation.

Rising from his place on the couch, Jabari clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing as he spoke, his demeanor making him suddenly seem like a college professor, not a man of the cloth. “When the Order was first founded, they began recording their many run-ins with these unearthly creatures in what became known to us in the Order as the Chronicles of St. George, though this is a bit of a misnomer since the Chronicle is not a single work, but many disparate accounts brought together by the Order itself over the centuries.

“For almost a thousand years their main theory was that they were engaged in a battle between heaven and hell, and that these things were clearly demons, sent to terrorize the faithful. This explanation was not questioned from the first days of the Order until the last recorded instance of a mass crossover event. This most recent event took place in the early 19th century, and as a handful of these encounters started being documented, some in the Order noticed the creatures involved seemed familiar. Almost all resembled beings known to the locals through generations-old folk tales, legends and ghost stories.

“Some in the Order began to think that, perhaps, this had nothing to do with Heaven and Hell at all. The idea didn’t gain much traction at the time, the terms demon and abomination are still used almost exclusively to describe the beasts and beings they encountered during this period, but Father Rigali, Father Lehman and myself have made quite a bit of progress in support of this line of thinking,” Jabari finished.

“And how is this helpful exactly?” Margaret asked, sounding half interested, half annoyed.

“It could make identification of your...targets I believe you call them, possible,” Jabari responded confidently.

“So you believe that if we study old ghost stories and monster myths we might be able to gain an upper hand on these things? These creatures from old stories that have come back to get us?” Margaret said, almost scoffing as she leaned back in her chair, eyeing the large priest with open skepticism.

“Not quite,” Joe said, annoyed himself now. “Don’t think of it as, these things from old stories came to life, consider that these stories are based on real creatures. Not all of them of course, but some come up so often across the historical record in certain areas that it makes sense.”

“Like bigfoot,” Margaret said in mock agreement.

“Do you have any examples to support this claim?” Atticus asked, hoping the priests would ignore Margaret’s jabs at their expense. “Perhaps some insight on the things we’ve already seen that might have proved helpful at the time?”

“Perfect examples can be found in that last batch from North Carolina,” Jabari said excitedly as he walked forward to Margaret’s desk, leaning on it so that he could look at all of them at once. “Take the big cat-like creature that killed Matthias. Some sort of super-predator that could correlate to any number of vague monsters, in any number of myths, from any number of cultures. Not exactly helpful. Same with the bird woman and her guardian in the Pacific Northwest; many cultures have stories of witches or strange women who live in the wilderness, preying upon unsuspecting travelers, with some type of monstrous guardian protecting them.”

“You aren’t exactly selling this theory of yours,” Margaret said, as Jabari took a breath.

“Let him get there,” Joe said.

Ignoring the interruption, Jabari continued, “But look at the Raven. Direct correlation to a number of stories in the folktales and myths of the American Indians.”

“Native Americans,” Henrik chimed in behind him.

Jabari waved a meaty hand at his colleague dismissively, as he said, “Also look at the creature that killed so many before your group took him down. You said it was called the A’Sin Adonata?”

“That’s what the Prince told us,” Atticus said.

“That’s Cherokee,” Henrik said, meekly. “It means evil wind in their language.”

“Hold on,” Atticus said, “that doesn’t make sense. The Prince, well his father actually, told us that the crystal was only able to track this creature because we knew its true name. How could its true name be in the Cherokee language?”

“Hard to say for sure,” Henrik said in a shaky voice, “but my initial hypothesis would be that the Cherokee term for evil wind was inspired by him, not that he was given the name by them. A powerful indication of just how much they feared this creature. There isn’t much on this thing in the surviving stories, so much of the Cherokee culture has been lost, but he is named as a sorcerer and there is at least one story where he uses his finger like a spear to destroy his enemies.

Atticus felt his stomach drop a little as the description of the finger like a spear sent him momentarily back into the room where Jack had died. “That’s too accurate to be coincidence Margaret,” he said after a moment.

“So say you’re right,” Margaret conceded. “How does this help us, real time?”

“Something you all can discuss at a later date I hope,” Kirchmann said from his chair. All eyes swung to the little man as he rose from his seat. “Joseph and I have a long drive ahead of us, and I am needed back in Rome as soon as we are done dealing with Joseph’s loose ends, as he called them. I trust Father Jabari and Father Lehman have interested you enough to earn beds for a short while?”

“I believe they have,” Margaret said, rising from her chair as well and walking around the desk to shake Kirchmann’s hand. Before releasing it she said, “But the next time you arrive at my door, you will let me know in advance who you are bringing and why. This should be my last surprise from your Order.”

“I assure you it will be,” Kirchmann said.

“Kim!” Margaret called over the little man’s head as she ended their hand shake.

“Yes Ms. Wynters?” Kim said as she appeared around the corner.

“Set Father Jabari and Father Lehman here up with rooms in the dorms. They will be staying with us for a few days.”

“Yes Ms. Wynters,” Kim said and she was soon leading the two men out of the office with Kirchmann and Joe following close behind.

As soon as the main door to the office shut behind them, Margaret was pacing back and forth in front of her desk, fuming. “What the hell is Joe’s goddamn problem? Why would he create a situation like that? Even Kirchmann was pissed off and he seems unshakable. Did you know about any of this?”

“No,” Atticus responded honestly. “I didn’t expect something like that out of him.” This wasn’t entirely true, but it was the best answer at the moment. He understood why Joe had just let things play out. The Order needed reps here and it was in their best interest to at least keep some line of dialogue open between both groups. If Atticus was honest with himself, he knew Margaret would have made the process far more complicated than it needed to be. Her distrust of the Order was tied up in her controlling nature and together they were making the woman unbearably stubborn. “Those two Kirchmann left behind seem competent though. Might be worth it to pick their brains a little.”

“Oh believe me, I mean to,” Margaret said as she found her way back to her desk. As she sat down she said, “I’ll deal with Joseph when the time is…” Her words died as she became transfixed by something near Kim’s desk.

Whirling to face that direction, Atticus let his hand slip to his side. He had always owned a gun, but only recently had he begun carrying one on his person at all times. He felt the panic in him die as he saw what had gotten Margaret’s attention though, and his whole body relaxed.

The Moon Eyed Prince was an odd little creature. Barely three feet in height, and that was including the mass of twigs and brambles that protruded from atop his head, the little creature could only be described as humanoid in appearance. He had a well defined head, torso and limbs, even if they were a bit stubby, but his skin had the look and texture of an old hardwood tree. Impressive as it was, Atticus was of the opinion that this body was simply a vessel for the light blue energy that seemed to run like veins through the Prince and made up the large, luminous eyes that floated freely, like small moons, in his shield shaped head.

“Did I startle you?” he asked in his odd, far away voice.

“I just didn’t expect you to come through the door,” Margaret said, regaining her composure as the little, glowing creature stood awkwardly in the center of the office.

“I apologize for my style of entry,” the Prince said, bowing his head slightly. “I will remember not to do so again.”

“It isn’t a problem,” Margaret said, “just unexpected. Would you like to take a seat?”

“Would that be more comfortable for you?” the Prince asked.

“I would prefer not to look down at you I suppose,” Margaret said.

Atticus did not like to admit it, but he was enjoying watching Margaret trying to use her usual bulldog style on the aloof little being. It was good for her.

Suddenly the Moon Eyed Prince was floating, small, kneeless legs dangling below him, just in front of Margaret’s desk. He was angled so that he could talk to both Margaret and Atticus and had picked a height somewhere between both of their eyelines. It was odd to be sure, but efficient in its own way.

“Is this agreeable Ms. Wynters?” the Prince said.

“Perfectly fine,” Margaret said in a tone of forced calm. “Thank you for meeting with me today. I hope you’ve found your accommodations to be acceptable?”

“They are unnecessary, but appreciated,” the Prince responded.

“Uh, well,” Margaret said, put off by the odd response, “we appreciate your willingness to stay here with us, but I wanted to take an opportunity to get to know you a little better. Would that be alright?”

“You fear me,” the Prince responded without warning. It wasn’t a question either. Apparently the little guy had his own list of things he wanted to address and he was getting right to it.

“What makes you think that?” Margaret asked, visibly caught off guard.

“I can read it on your face,” The Prince said simply, as if this were obvious.

“A perfect segue to why I asked you here,” Margaret said, leaning towards the floating figure. “You say you can read my fear on my face? Are you being hyperbolic or can you literally determine how I feel by looking at my face?”

“In other words, you want to know what I can do, what I am capable of? I trust you understand that we are not similar creatures. You are of the flesh and I am of the ether. I do not share many of your limitations.”

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question,” Margaret said, still leaning forward towards the Prince. “I was hoping we could speak plainly.”

“Unlike the Raven, you mean,” the Prince responded flatly. “You worry that he is deceiving you and you think I will be honest, even if you may not like what you hear.”

“I would just prefer to speak plainly is all,” Margaret said.

The Moon Eyed Prince went dark for a moment. He did this from time to time. The light that seemed to be the source of his sentience seemed to recede within his small wooden frame anytime he needed to think on something he found complicated or important. It was odd to see, but most of them were getting used to it. “You view the world through your eyes, sensory organs,” the Prince finally said as his light returned to full brightness, “you see things through a lens. I see things as they are. I see the reality of things. This removes many of the limitations your kind are bound by on this plane, but it does not make me all powerful or omniscient in the way you are concerned it might.”

Atticus was fascinated as he listened to the small figure speak and couldn’t help asking, “When you saved us from that...place, you clearly weren’t affected by the A’Sin or his magic… power…whatever it was. Why?”

The Prince went dark again and Margaret shot Atticus an aggravated look that he ignored. She wasn’t the only one with questions. “Magic, as you call it, is much like anything else; it has rules, shape and substance, and even if you cannot see it or manipulate it, I can.” Again, he said this as if it was obvious and a satisfactory answer to their questions. He must have been able to read on their faces that it wasn’t though because he continued, “You were held in that place by bonds you could not see and a lock you could not touch. That was his advantage over you. I on the other hand could not only see his work, expert as it was, but knew how to undo it. Hence why you and I stand here today and the A’Sin is long gone from this world.”

“What about the crystal?” Atticus added quickly before Margaret could take the reins again. “How did that work?”

“Consider it a conduit,” the Prince said. “Had I needed to find the sorcerer on my own, I would have used the same process, but would not have needed the crystal to guide me. Does that make sense to you, Atticus Daniels?”

“More or less,” Margaret said, trying to refocus the Prince’s attention on her instead of Atticus. “It is an interesting concept though. I’m still not getting a full picture of, and forgive me for being blunt, what you are and what you’re capable of.”

“I am one of the kin,” the Prince responded. “I am both of this world and apart from it. I feel I am capable of a great many things, though my full potential remains unknown, even to me. This is my first time in the outside world. I am meant to grow here and test myself. I’m afraid I cannot give you an answer that will assuage your concerns, though I wish I could.”

“I’ll ask you out right then; are you a threat to us? Do you mean us harm?” Margaret asked pointedly.

“That is an odd question.”

“How so?”

“You ask it as if you expect the answers to be the same. Of course I am a threat to you. As far as I can see, you and your kind could not hurt me in any real way and to dispose of you would be simple if unpleasant. But I do not mean you any harm. I left my people because I was drawn to your cause. Noah Benjamin and Olivia Ellis left me without a doubt that your aims were just. They came with pure intentions. Otherwise, I would not be here.”

Atticus was stunned by how direct the Prince was being about his ability to kill them all to the man, but Maragret seemed more relaxed somehow. More power to her, Atticus thought. For his part, Atticus suddenly wanted far more distance between himself and the glowing figure to his right, though he was starting to think that wouldn’t help him much if he meant to remove himself from the Prince’s notice.

“You admit you can read our faces,” Margaret said, not relenting despite the Prince’s confirmation that he meant them no harm, “can you also read our minds?”

The thought startled Atticus, but not as much as the Moon Eyed Prince’s response.

“Certainly. Though I would not. I understand it would be a violation of the highest order.”

“So you haven’t done that to any of us, but you could?” Atticus asked.

“Well none of you humans. I did pry into the Raven’s mind, early on, but only to make sure he was safe. Many like him have gone down a dark path. I could not risk duplicitousness on his part going unnoticed in your ranks.”

“Well, is he safe then?” Margaret asked.

“He is dangerous, not because he is a seasoned warrior, but because he is driven purely by revenge and a barely controlled rage he has carried most of his unnaturally long life. That being said, he is single minded in his goal to defeat his enemies and since you are not his enemies, at least not yet, I would say that he is safe to share a roof with. So long as your goals do not stand in direct opposition to his own, he should prove a valuable ally.``

“Does he know you’ve done this to him? Read his mind?” Margaret asked. Atticus wondered if she was simply curious or trying to figure out if there was any indication that this was being done to you. Atticus certainly wanted to know. All of this was well outside of his comfort zone and Margaret’s calm was only making him more agitated.

“He must suspect it. He is no fool and likely knows enough of my kind to assume it is possible. If he is willing to share space with me, and he seems to be, he must not be worried about what I might find were I inclined to look.”

Margaret leaned back and clasped her hands together, as if in prayer, and placed them over her mouth. It was an old habit and usually meant she was deep in thought, her version of going dark. “That is promising, I suppose,” she said from behind her hands, almost to herself. “I guess my only remaining question is, what do you see your role here being? Surely if you wanted to hunt these things on your own, you could do so without our help. Why tie yourself to our cause?”

“It is tradition,” the Prince began, “for a future leader of the kin to spend time on the surface world. What he does in that time is up to him, but it is meant to be a time of discovery and growth that will make him either a worthy King or show his weakness before too much is at stake. As I mentioned before, I am not fully aware of my own limits and potential. To match myself against these creatures from the First World could end in my destruction and set my people back an entire generation. A new Prince would need to be grown and groomed in such an event and that is not a quick or easy task. I will not send my Father down that path carelessly, but if these things are invading our new world, our new home, I will stand and defend it. Currently, I see helping you as the best way to do that. You do want my help I assume?”

“We most certainly do,” Margaret said, “but that is what I’m trying to ask you; how can you help the most, given what you’ve seen so far? Do you want to be out in the field, fighting alongside Allen and his men or is there some other way your talents can be used?”

“I will fight if the need arises,” the Prince said, “but I must be cautious. As I said, I cannot set my people back by being reckless on your behalf.”

“You seemed to handle the A’Sin alright,” Atticus said. He was having a hard time understanding how a being like this could feel trepidation or fear.

“I saw that it could be defeated, so I acted,” the Prince said, looking at Atticus. “Had I not seen a path to victory, I would not have intervened. It is as simple as that.”

“What about more of these crystals?” Margaret asked. “Are there things you could make us that might help keep us safe?”

“I could create some basic wards,” the Prince said, “it would take time, but it could be done.”

“And what would those do exactly?” Atticus asked.

“Had you had them when you first met the A’Sin, he could not have held you as he did. He would still have been a formidable enemy, but you would not have been so helpless,” the Prince said.

“And you didn’t think to mention these when Noah and Olivia first came to you for help?” Atticus said, more angrily than he’d intended.

“You did not ask for protection. You asked for guidance,” was all the response he got from the small figure floating before him.

“How long would it take you to make enough of these wards for the entire team? Would that be possible?” Margaret said, silencing Atticus with a sidelong look.

“It would,” the Prince nodded slowly. “I would need to find the proper conduits, which might take some time. The actual creation of the wards would take a week or so.”

“The crystal only took a few seconds,” Atticus grumbled, “why so long?”

“A ward is more complex,” the Prince shrugged. “It will take a more complex vessel to house its magic. I do not expect you to understand, but it is nothing I can change or circumvent.”

“How soon can you get going?” Margaret asked.

“I can leave now, if you permit it,” the Prince said, though the idea that he needed their permission to do anything was dissolving each time he opened his small mouth.

“I do…,” Margaret began, but she stopped short. No sooner had she spoken then the Prince was gone. No flash of light or puff of smoke; he simply was not where he had been a millisecond before. “He’s a literal little guy,” she said, turning to Atticus.

“Thick, some might say,” Atticus growled. He knew resenting the glowing figure would do no good, but it sure seemed like everything that had been torturing him for weeks could have been prevented with the proper wording. He would need to find some way to push this out of his mind or it would drive him mad.

“An informative discussion though. Not sure if it makes me more or less concerned, but it was good to get some clarity at least,” Margaret said as she flipped open her laptop and began pulling folders out of her desk drawers. “We’ll obviously have to wait and see if he can deliver on these wards or whatever they are, but it was progress. It’s almost eleven now Atticus and I need to handle some Wynters' Tech business. Are you doing anything useful this afternoon?”

Biting his tongue at her choice of words, Atticus said, “I figured you would have plenty for me to do.”

“I do if you aren’t busy,” Margaret said. “Make sure the priests are settled and explain where they should and should not go; I don’t need the two of them popping up on the security feed if I can avoid it. Then check in with our teams in the field. I doubt they have much new information, but we should get in the habit of checking in frequently. When all that is done try to figure out when the hell Joe is coming back. Once you know, set up meetings with Jabari and the quiet one before Joe and Kirchmann return. Kim will get in touch with you if I think of anything else.”

Realizing that this was his cue to leave, Atticus rose from his chair and made his way towards Kim’s desk. The young woman had not returned yet, so Atticus was at least able to avoid her scorn on his way out of the office.

“ And Atticus!” Margaret called when he was halfway out of the main door.

“Yes?”

“Take a fucking pill tonight. You look terrible.”