“I know what a death spirit is,” Sir Myron snapped. “I’m not talking about technical classifications. I meant that thatthingcan’t possibly be the first Mortal Spirit! Mortal Spirits are the spiritswecreate. They’re the living incarnations of universal human obsessions: love, war, wisdom, bravery, anger, fertility. You know, the things we made gods for. How is it possible that the spirit ofthis”—he threw out his arms at the stray cats, who startled and scattered to the safety of the trash—“is the first to rise? What does that say about humanity? About our magic?” He glared at Marci. “What does it say aboutyou?”
“Now hold on,” she said angrily. “You make it sound like Ghost is evil, and that’s just not true. Sure, his powers are a little creepy, but that’s on us, not him. Death is a natural part of life.” She looked down at Ghost. “Everyone’s afraid to die and be forgotten,” she said, petting him gently. “It’s certainly much more universal to the human condition than any of the stuff you just listed.”
“So are murder and greed,” Myron growled. “And I wouldn’t want either of them as the first Mortal Spirit, either.”
General Jackson crossed her arms over her chest. “A Mortal Spirit rises fifty years ahead of schedule, and you’re being picky?”
“Yes,” Myron said, drawing himself up to his full height. “Because this is worth being picky about! We’re talking about a spirit-human pair who could possibly influence the course of human magic for centuries to come. If we begin withdeath, I don’t think we’re going to like what we get.” He pointed at Marci. “She hasn’t even told us what aspect of death he represents yet! For all we know, he’s the spirit of murder.”
“He’snota spirit of murder!” Marci cried. “He’s—”
“He’s what?” Sir Myron taunted. “Worse?”
Marci looked pleadingly down at Ghost, but he was just glaring at Myron in disgust.Do not grant my name to this small-minded idiot,he hissed, turning up his nose.Spirit of murder, indeed.
“Now you’ve insulted him,” Marci said, shaking her head in frustration. But as she was scrambling to come up with a way to defend Ghost to Myron that didn’t involve dropping his identity, General Jackson stepped between them.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said coldly, fixing the undersecretary with a glare. “This isn’t an opportunity we can afford to waste, Myron. Sailors on sinking ships can’t be picky about what kind of vessel comes to their rescue. Whatever we get, we’ll make it work.”
“But at what cost?” Sir Myron asked. “Some of us still have humanity left to lose,General.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. Before she could answer, though, the room was filled with the fluttering of wings as Raven flew in through the empty doorframe. “Heads up!” he croaked. “We’re about to have company.”
General Jackson whirled around. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”
“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Raven said as he settled on her shoulder.
The general’s face turned furious. “I leave you on watch, and you didn’t want to interrupt?”
“Fine,” Raven snapped. “Icouldn’tinterrupt.” He turned to give Ghost the evil eye. “The spectral feline over there has very strong opinions, and I was most decidedlynotwelcome inside until just now.”
“Ghost!” Marci cried.
The spirit flicked his ears in the cat equivalent of a shrug.His magic doesn’t blend well with mine. Would have made a mess.
She frowned, curious. “What kind of mess?”
“He means a mess ofme,” Raven said. But just as Marci was realizing this answer meant that Raven could hear what Ghost was saying inside hermind, the spirit flitted up to one of the broken windows. “Oh, there, you see?” he squawked. “While you were busy accusing me of negligence, they got everywhere.”
“They who?” the general demanded, moving to the window so fast, it was like she teleported. She must have spotted her answer immediately, because she stepped away again just as fast, grabbing Marci by the arm. “Is there another way out?”
Marci winced. Nothing good inspired that question. “There’s a way upstairs through the trash,” she said, nodding toward the back of the basement. “But—”
“It’s blocked, I can see,” General Jackson finished, letting her go. “Okay, change of plans. We negotiate.”
Now Marci was gettingreallyworried. “Negotiate with whom?” she asked, rising up on her tiptoes to peer through the broken windows into the growing dark. “I don’t see—”
She was interrupted by a loudthunkas a huge bank of floodlights switched on with blinding intensity. The glare was so bright in the rainy night, Marci didn’t actually see the trucks behind the lights until the soldiers began to pour out.
“Marci Novalli!”
Marci froze. She’d heard some pretty terrifying things in her life, but the sound of her name crackling through a police megaphone at full volume had just jumped to the top of the list.
“Known dragon sympathizer,” the voice continued, the megaphone warping and screeching the words until they sounded almost alien. “Murderer of Vann Jeger and Eugene Bixby. You are surrounded. Surrender now, and the Lady of the Lakes will show mercy.”
He didn’t say what would happen if theydidn’tsurrender, but he didn’t have to. Given themultiple tanks Marci’s adjusted eyes could now see waiting in the neighbor’s yard, she could guess well enough. “Well,” she said, sinking down against the damp brick wall with a sigh. “At least someone’s taking me seriously for once.”
“Those aren’t for you,” Emily said, peeking through the open doorway. “See the rocket-propelled harpoons above the gun mounts? Those are anti-dragon tanks. I use an older version of the same model for my own task force, but these new units use a modified law rocket that can shoot through fifty centimeters of steel.” She arched an eyebrow at Marci. “Your dragon must have made quite an impression.”
