“Magic is science we don’t understand yet.”
Gelpack didn’t answer. Nero guessed that the complexities of human language were difficult for the alien to process. Meanwhile, Captain M was folding her arms.
“Either way, we need researchers, and not the librarian kind. Call it tech support, a geek squad, or Fitz-Simmons. I don’t care. We can’t go out with just fangs and claws anymore. Not since half our calls are more than the occasional vamp or an idiot demon. Hell, I can’t remember the last demon that could dress itself, and this one came with magical fire.”
“And could use a handgun,” Nero reminded her. That bit tended to get forgotten in the whole atomic explosion part at the end.
She nodded. “How the hell did a demon figure out firearms? Before you know it, they’ll be on the internet and taking over Amazon.”
It was a joke. Sort of. But Captain M had a point. Magical baddies were getting more capable and more weird by the second. No one could keep up, least of all the lowest grunts on the take-’em-out scale.
All the species in the Paranormal Alliance took turns handling paranormal threats. It was shifters who bore the brunt of them, though. Wolves, bears, and cats all had their own organizations, and they usually dealt with the grunt work. The Non-Corporeals were less capable, limited to hauntings and driving people crazy, but they had their place, especially since they included some unspecified number of fairies who focused on stopping mystical mischief. That included, of course, the Fairy Prince Bitterroot, who had started this particular problem. Then there was the catchall of witches, warlocks, and whatnot in the Religious Crew. That was the unofficial name for demons turned good-guy and angels turned not-so-good. Throw in a few surviving demigods for their board of directors and you had Halloween, Inc., the third leg of the weird world tripod.
Nero had no idea where Gelpack came in except that he arrived like the Silver Surfer. He just showed up and asked to hang out with the wolves. As far as the World of Weird went, Gelpack was almost blasé. Completely see-through, he was like a living Jell-O mold in the shape of a human body. He had a mouth, but sound seemed to come as a vibration of his whole form. His eye indents were there, but no one thought he could see through them. He was like a talking gelatinous mannequin. Why the creature was in this meeting was anyone’s guess.
“We have to figure out how to defeat that fireball,” Nero insisted. “Can we tap Halloween, Inc.? They’ve got to know a way.”
“Already done,” Wiz said mournfully. “If they know the answer, they’re not telling.” Wiz rolled his eyes. “They’rereligious, and they think we’re another form of demon. So if a demon takes us out, all the better for them.”
Well, shit.
“But what if—?”
Captain M cut him off. “We don’t make fairy deals. Ever. That comes down from the founder himself, and if you don’t like it, then take it up with him.” Wulfric was still alive, even though he and his magical mother were more than two hundred years old. They were the creators of the original Paranormal Alliance back in the 1800s, and whatever bullshit had gone on then, the fairies were responsible for it. Hence the rule: no negotiating with fairies. Nero kept his mouth shut.
“We need geeks,” Captain M repeated. “We need torecruitgeeks.”
No one argued, though everyone wanted to. The problem was that paranormals weren’t exactly in the open. Lots of people had experience with the woo-woo, but those who were touched by it—by the real shit—tended to die. Survival rate was highest among those born as werewolves. The infants were stronger and as they aged, they knew how to handle themselves against scary stuff. Nero was a lycanthropy werewolf—bitten when he was a teenager—and the odds on him making it were one in ten. Others manifested from curses or mystical bullshit, but again, the survival rate was low. Weak minds and bodies crumpled under the strain. Heart valves broke, asthmatics stopped breathing, and those with bad allergies? Their bodies attacked themselves and they died ugly. And that was nothing compared to the ones who went nuts. Geeks and nerds weren’t known for their physical stamina. And who knew what mental hang-ups wandered around in their massive brains? At least that was the perception, and no one wanted to test it. So geeks had been noticeably absent from the werewolf rolls. Unfortunately, the need for scientific mojo was becoming more obvious by the second.
Captain M looked around the room, her gaze heavy on each of the wolf higher-ups. “We’re agreed?”
One by one, they nodded, their expressions blank except for their tight mouths. Seeing werewolves that quiet was downright creepy. Meanwhile, Captain M grunted her acknowledgment and gestured to the stacks of file folders on a side table behind her.
“Pick whoever you want,” she said to Nero. “I’ve listed my recommendations. Then get with Wizard to figure out how to make it happen.”
Nero’s head snapped up. He’d been staring blankly at the dozen or so folders when his gaze shot back to her. “What?”
Her expression softened. “We’re not putting you back out in the field right now, but you’ve got more than enough experience to identify what kind of scientific support we need.”
“I haven’t a clue, beyond the obvious.”
She smiled. “That’s more than most people have. Go through the folders, talk it over with Wizard, and figure out who we can activate.”
“That’s a pretty word for destroying someone’s life. And that’s assuming they survive.”
“Your life wasn’t destroyed.”
“I was infected by an asshole, and I got lucky.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not going to bite some random geek on the prayer that they—”
“They’re not random,” said the Director. His voice was whisper-soft. Rumor had it that he’d had his trachea decimated by an angry vamp but had gotten some kind of magical replacement. Either way, he never spoke above a whisper, but everyone listened. “We’ve had our eyes on them for a while. Most of them are genetic werewolves, a few from the founder’s line. Someone in their near past carries the werewolf gene, and so the odds are they’ll manifest someday.”
“Somedayis a far cry fromtoday.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
Captain M spoke up. “There wasn’t a lot to choose from, but those are all the scientists, programmers, and researchers we know who can become werewolves. People who can research the demons ahead of time, who can figure out our biology when we’re hurt, and—”
“Who can figure out how to defeat magical fire.”
