Technomancer

By Charlie Foxtrot

*****

 

Technomancer

©2025, by Charlie Foxtrot, all rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Cover Photo: ©2025, by Charlie Foxtrot

Ebook ISBN: 979-8-9901755-1-8

 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

 

Follow & Learn More: Subscribe to my blog at charliefoxtrotwriter.blog to learn about upcoming releases or background on my writing. Checkout my website at charliefoxtrotwriter.com for special features and updates related to my books.

 

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Epilogue

 

Chapter One

Elara heard the jailers approaching and hugged the two smaller girls sheltering beneath her arms even as she suppressed a shudder against the cold fear of what was coming.

“Goddess, give me strength,” she prayed softly, barely whispering.

Her belief would not let her ask for rescue or escape, not so long as these other girls were at risk. She had witnessed one girl pulled from the damp cell, stripped outside the thick metal bars, and roughly tied before being led through the stout wooden door set in the black stone wall. The thickness of the door did nothing to prevent her from hearing the screams of the child.

The door opened, and the two jailers entered, laughing at some unheard joke. One was a heavyset man, dressed in a black robe with worn leather boots peeking from beneath the hem just above the damp floor. He was older, with greying hair and a sparse beard. His broad, flat nose filled the space beneath and between his dark, beady eyes. His gaze was hungry as he looked through the bars at the cowering women.

The other was younger, fitter, but not any nicer based on his look. He wore leather pants and a tan tunic. His hair was blonde, and Elara thought he could have made himself attractive, but there were no pleasant thoughts once you saw his leer and cold eyes. Where his mate was hungry, he was mean. You could see he wanted to lash out, to cause pain for pain’s sake. He was the one that pulled a length of well-worn rope from his belt and smiled in anticipation.

“Not a young one this time,” the older man said. “The master wants someone who’s old enough to breed.”

“I guess that limits us,” the mean man said. “But it will mean we’ll get a young one for dessert,” he added with a wicked laugh.

Elara shuddered. The fear in the cell was palatable. She could feel it rolling off her cellmates. Fear of being chosen now. Fear of remaining to be selected later. The different flavors of fear filled her as her goddess’ gift let her feel those around her. Needing to face that fear, she gave the two girls at her sides a quick hug, then released them to force herself up to her feet.

Both men leered at her.

“Looks like we have a volunteer,” mean man said. “Get over here to the gate,” he ordered.

Elara stepped with unconscious precision, feeling the cold stone floor in the soles of her feet. The men watched her, letting their gaze travel up from her painted toes, along her legs, over her body and then up to her long silver hair. The coarse shift they had provided each of the prisoners provided too little cover for her, only reaching mid-thigh. She felt the other’s momentary sense of relief as the jailers seemed to accept her as their next victim.

The door was unlocked, and the mean man grabbed her firmly by the arm, jerking her through the doorway before the other man slammed it shut and turned the key to lock it firmly. She could feel the men’s lust rising as the mean man pulled out his knife and quickly cut up her shift, exposing her to their eyes.

They both licked their lips but then spun her around and tied her elbows behind her back.

“If the master doesn’t like her,” the old man said. “I’ll take her. I’ve never had one with silver hair before.”

The mean man laughed. “I thought you didn’t like them with any hair!”

Elara blocked their dark thoughts and let them push her out of the jail and down the dark corridor. Green magical lights cast eerie shadows as they walked. Down the corridor, up the winding stairs, then through another dark passage filled with black doors before descending once more.

Eventually, they reached a larger chamber, appearing carved from obsidian, but finished in precisely angular cuts. The room seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, and she could sense the boundary between the physical world and the magical realm growing thin. Crystalline structures glowed with an inner radiance, their facets refracting the ethereal light that filled the space. Gigantic machines hummed softly, their purpose a mystery to her.

A massive obsidian altar dominated the center of the chamber, and Elara could feel the power emanating from it. The air was thick with anticipation and potential. She had heard tales of such places but had never witnessed one firsthand. Despite her unease, Elara couldn't deny the allure of this extraordinary place coursing with power and potential.

A cloaked figure moved from the shadows along a series of carved bookshelves. He wore a dark and flowing robe of rich fabrics. Elara could see the complex glyphs sown in a matching hue, shimmering with subtle magical energies. Many of the symbols were unknown to her, but she recognized enough, chaos magic.

“What have you brought me?” a deep, sonorous voice asked. She knew it was from the man in the hooded robe, but the voice seemed to come from all around them.

Neither of the men spoke, but the old man put a hot hand in the small of her back, just above her bound wrists, and pushed her forward.

The figure lifted his hands to his hood and pushed it back, exposing sharp features that gave him an air of mystery and danger. His high cheekbones were accentuated by deep lines etched into his skin. She suspected the lines were from years of intense concentration during spell casting. His strong jawline was framed by a neatly trimmed beard, adding to the air of authority and power surrounding him. She knew he was a dangerous man of power.

“A priestess?” he said. “Excellent. You’ve chosen well,” he said to the men. “Now leave me. You may have one prisoner to share.”

Elara’s heart sank, knowing one of the girls in the cell would soon be journeying to the Celestial Realm, but only after suffering greatly. She resolved to not go gently to such a fate.

She watched the magician approach, carefully considering what she could do with her arms bound tightly behind her. Elara felt something probing at her emotions, as if trying to soothe her and make her trusting and compliant. She knew better but used her powers to create a facade of the sense he was trying to force on her. She managed not to shudder as he reached out and caressed her naked breast.

“A virgin priestess will suit my purpose,” he said softly.

Elara struck. She kicked up and out viciously, aiming for his groin, but finding her foot tangled in his robes. She snapped her head forward, planting her forehead against his nose, and was rewarded with a gasp and the sound of crunching bone. Her sense of victory was fleeting.

Pain blossomed across her face. She reeled away, unable to balance with her arms tied behind her, and fell, smashing her shoulder against the cold stone floor.

“You should have tried to enjoy this,” the magician growled while grabbing her bound arms and lifting her. She refused to stand. He dragged her to the altar. His fingers entwined in her hair, controlling her head as he pushed her down and across the strangely warm stone slab. He grabbed a knife from one end, cutting her bonds effortlessly, and then quickly securing her in a hinged wooden collar with two cuffs on the end. Her arms were now stretched out before her. The contraption forced her to hold them up lest she strangle herself, making them useless for resisting.

He bent her forward, quickly securing the wrists of the collar to a clip on the far side of the altar. She felt her feet being spread apart and realized she was not going to just be sacrificed for some arcane ritual. First, he intended to soil her body, her temple to her goddess. Hoping for strength from her goddess, she arched her back, forcing the collar against her neck. Her vision swam. She knew he would not let her die, but she would not let him win without resistance.

*****

Malachi, the Guardian of Set, stepped back from his altar, looking at the woman bound and bent over it. The pain in his nose and face were fading as he let the power of chaos mend him. She had struggled, to no avail. His seed was planted within her, completing the connection the magic would need. He dropped the hem of his robe, covering his nakedness, and began the final chants that would seal the compulsion on her while the connection was fresh. Once done, he would be able to perform the sending easily. Then, it would only be a matter of time before she returned to him with the prize, he needed to master the realms of Elysia.

*****

 

Chapter Two

Finn Miller glanced at the silent timer showing on his phone. Two minutes left. He watched the progress bar on the screen and tapped his fingers on the edge of the ancient wooden table the third-hand terminal sat on. The flat screen was cracked but still functioned. He hoped the location would give him a few more minutes of anonymity if the task took too long. He stood, stretching from his hours-long effort, preparing his body to flee. It was going to be close. He had three exits to choose from. If it took too long, he would have to pick which to run through. The fourth approach, how he had entered the room, was not an option. That path led to an open street that he knew had cameras. It had crowds as well, despite the late hour. It was, after all, a city that never slept.

He heard a sound and glanced at the main door. His temporary locks were still firmly in place. The plastic shims were inserted on the hinge side of the door, preventing it from swinging open. He glanced at the monitor, then crossed the small room to insert two additional wedges in the door, one high on the opening side and then the other on the floor, also away from the hinges. A tap of his finger sent the signal to them, causing the adhesive on the edges to expand and bind with the frame and the floor. Even a heavy battering ram would take several swings to shatter the door now. The wedges would hold much longer than the thin metal shell of the door itself. It was the best he could do to buy some extra time.

He glanced at his phone. It looked old, bulkier than the most modern models, but he would not trade it for anything. He knew every chip, circuit, and wire in the device. A commercial phone would have too many avenues of attack for him to ever trust. He should know, he had helped design the hardware compromises built into them for years. He had written parts of the low-level operating system they used as well. Finn had thought he was making the world a better place.

He shook his head at how naïve he had been.

Most people, even the technical elites, thought their phones were secure with end-to-end encryption and industrial operating systems. He knew better. His master’s thesis had gained him the job with the No Such Agency. They had placed him with a chip design company. He thought giving the agency the ability to by-pass all the commercial security efforts was warranted in the war on terror. Using quantum entanglement and post-deployment modifications to the processor’s microcode instructions let his superiors trigger a backdoor into anyone’s device. The agency had then subsidized the chips so heavily that no manufacturer could afford not to use them. He had been proud of his work. It should have earned him accolades. Instead, he was patted on the head and brought back into a windowless office hidden deep in a secure facility. He consoled himself with further refinements to the modified microcode running on so many phones.

A few years later, he realized that no one he worked with could understand what he did. They nicknamed him “microcode”, since they only seemed to understand that he did something that would modify how the processors operated. He began to wonder. If they did not understand how he did his exploits, did they understand the data collection those exploits enabled?

He began to look at how his work was being used. Yes, it was enabling traffic analysis for teams fighting terrorist and extremists. It was also being used to track citizens critical of the government. It was being used to listen in on private conversations of opposition party members. Then he found it being used to collect material to compromise government officials. The agency was controlling more than the flow of information, it was using that information to grow its own power.

His departure from government work had not come quickly. His clearances made it a slow withdrawal to avoid tripping any of the watchers tasked with keeping secrets, secret. He had used the time to slip away from the world. His phone had been built during that year-long retreat. It ran code that he would never give to the government. When he thought about how his work had been subverted, he got angry. Then he decided to get even.

In a roundabout way, that had led him to the dirty room with a decrepit terminal and spotty connectivity. He was tracing funds and messages between buyers and sellers. It was not weapons or intelligence in the traditional sense. It was the transactions people in power, people who thought they were beyond the law, were using to literally buy and sell lives. His digging had shown how the leaders of the agency, along with several multi-billionaires, were trafficking in people and using them as sexual playthings. Adding insult to injury, they were using parts of his backdoor technology to hide their actions and communicate across a network of perverted power-players without any regular law enforcement agency having a hope of finding them.

He glanced at the timer. The progress bar reached its end, but he was a minute past his self-imposed deadline. Someone would be coming for him. It was time to leave.

*****

“Some fucker is way too smart for our own good,” Agent Morrison said as he looked at the smoking keyboard on the table connected to the ancient terminal. “Who uses fucking acid to make sure they don’t leave prints or DNA behind?”

“Not only that,” his partner Agent Pamela Wilson said. “They came in long enough ago that the spotters on the street overwrote their footage and they fried the connection on their way out so any surveillance out back would never make it up to the cloud. All that, and no physical evidence of how they managed to stay here so long. No food wrappers, water bottles, nothing.”

“This isn’t some low-life amateur,” Morrison said.

“Nope,” Wilson agreed. “Our only break is the fact that they had to go out one of the other doors. The keyboard is still smoking, so they can’t have too much of lead.”

“But how much will that lead grow if we don’t pick the right path first?”

Wilson shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows, but we better pick one and get chasing. The bosses are worried about the hack on their banks.”

“I wonder why their personal accounts were targeted,” Morrison said. “A suspicious mind would think they had something to hide.”

Wilson paled. “I like breathing free air, Tony. Let’s keep any suspicions strictly between your ears.”

*****

 

Chapter Three

A palpable stench assaulted Elara's senses, a noxious blend of decay and filth. The pungent tang of rotting food mingled with the rank aroma of spoiled garbage, its sickly sweetness clinging to her nostrils and forcing her to wake, gagging. Decomposing organic matter gave way to a sharper, more pungent smell – the unmistakable stink of putrefying meat and fish. The sour, acrid odor of urine added another layer to the cacophony, a reminder that this was a place where nature fought a constant battle against decay and filth. It was a smell that spoke of neglect, disarray, and the unyielding passage of time.

Elara groaned, and forced her eyes open, afraid to see what foul place she had been thrown into now.

“Goddess, help me,” she pleaded softly as she spotted the barest hint of moonlight edging its way into the filthy alleyway she awoke in. Garbage was obvious in the large metal bins pushed against one wall. Dirty rainwater, she hoped it was water, puddled the rough street, and she heard strange sounds from the distant opening. A few lights shown through the mouth of the narrow passage.

She took hold of herself, realizing she was still naked except for the silver anklets with their tiny jewels and moonstones. She reached out with her mind, seeking the cool comforting connection to the powers her goddess had granted. The barest trickle of power would clothe her. It was one of the first lessons an acolyte learned, weaving the moon beams into clothes.

For the first time since learning the weave, her goddess’ power eluded her. The loss of her connection hit her as hard as the wizard’s fist had. She struggled to sit up and hugged her knees to her tightly. Where was her patron? Why had the connection been lost? How?

Alone. She could sense none of her sisters in the order. She could not feel Mother Nightbloom, the only woman she had granted the appellation of mother. Elara had always had someone of the order on the periphery of her awareness. Even in the dungeon of obsidian, she could feel a tenuous connection to the women of the temple in the Enchanted Forest. Of course, there it had been nearly overwhelmed by the emotions of the other prisoners. Now, it was simply absent. The magnitude of her loss sent a shiver through her soul, and she felt unbidden tears touch her face.

Alone. Not only were her friends and sisters gone, but her goddess was also as well. The usual sense of comfort and reassurance was absent.

She sucked in a deep breath of the putrid air, wishing for some hint of home, only to remind herself of the many lessons from her training.

“Have pity for others, but it has no place in your actions,” Mother Nightbloom had instructed. “Do not waste time pitying your circumstances, do something about them!”

She focused inward, seeking the place where she felt the peace of the goddess. This too, she had been deeply trained in. Her years as an initiate had prepared her mind and body for the trials of being an acolyte. Her years as an acolyte had honed powers that mere mortals could only imagine. She had reached the final trials to be anointed a priestess five years earlier than most expected to achieve that rank. She would not be deterred.

Elara reached out once more, focusing on the memory of the power granted to her. She resisted the urge to strain for it, opening herself and waiting until she felt the lightest of touches on her awareness. The power was there, but faint like an echo in her mind. Regardless, she willed that trickle to manifest. She felt the soft caress of cloth on her skin and opened her eyes.

It was not the full gown of a priestess as she had envisioned, but a short dress of blues and greens. At least it covered her nakedness. She felt drained from the effort but forced herself to stand and move away from the stench of the container hiding her from the main street. A crate of some strange material was a few steps further down the alley. She sat, exhausted, but determined to try once more to weave the moonbeams.

Before she could reach the meditative state of calm again, a new sensation intruded upon her. A longing, not for the goddess, but for a man. She relaxed her mind, trying to fathom who the man was. It was not the magician who had raped her before casting her out, that much she was certain of. She shuddered at the thought of the evil man’s touch even as she realized she could feel his seed leaking from within her. She needed a bath.

No, the man she sought was not a magician, but someone of power from this world. She knew she needed to find him. A man of power, but she could think of no name, no face, no way of identifying him. She only felt the need to search and find.

A geas! That evil bastard was using her to find someone, she realized.

She knew of spells to impose a geas. Only the highest priestesses were allowed to use them, but she knew the signs. The flames of her anger were blown brighter. Her goddess had truly forsaken her if she could not fight this compulsion on her mind. While she wanted to resist the pity welling up in her throat, her loss was all consuming. For the first time since being raised as an acolyte, she cried with the nearly silent sobs from her childhood.

Alone and abandoned again.

*****

 

Chapter Four

Finn could hear the agents in the stair well high above him. He kept his steps light as he hugged the wall and avoided exposing himself should they look over the flimsy railing of this escape route. His shoes were sturdy and laced tight, with rubberized soles that absorbed the light sound of his footfalls. He pulled the hood of his canvas work coat up over his head, hiding his dark, wavy mop of hair. He needed to trim it back to the close-cropped cut he usually kept. For now, he let it grow out, just in case he needed a hasty haircut to alter his appearance.

He thought about his options as he descended as quickly as he could without alerting his pursuit. Two doors were at the bottom of this stairwell. One would go back into the maintenance and service area of the building. The other into the alley separating this building from its neighbor. He would be exposed in the alley, at least until he could make it to the street, but the maintenance area only had one other exit, aside from the service elevator which was most likely being monitored by now.

He reached the ground floor and stopped, listening. How much time did he have? The slap-slap-slap of leather on stairs gave little sense of distance, but he guessed they were at least six or seven floors above him. The exit was in the middle of the alley. If he was lucky, he could make the street before they reached the floor.

He eased the doorway open. He had carefully oiled the hinges of doors along all his escape routes days ago and bypassed alarms. Finn glanced at his phone. No active surveillance in the area. The agents should have deployed drones or spy-cams around the building before trying to catch him. Maybe they did not want a record of their actions. It was a sobering thought.

He slipped through the door and closed it carefully. No loud bangs or thuds telling his pursuers which way he had gone. He tapped an icon on his phone and felt the electronic contact in the doorframe release. If they opened the door, the alarm would sound. It might convince them to resume their search inside.

“Now just make it to the street,” he said softly.

He stepped around the garbage dumpster and started to jog toward the end of the alley. The street he was heading for was on the opposite block of the entrance they must have used to reach him. Getting to the street, he could turn south and be down on the subway in half-a-block. Once down there, they could never follow him. He just needed a crowd to mingle in and activate his phone, then surveillance would be fuzzed for twenty yards around him. They would have no hope of following all the people suddenly hidden. Hop on a train, stop the jammer in a tunnel, and he would be one of the anonymous masses once more.

He heard the soft sobbing and slowed to locate its source. No one was around, but the sound grabbed his attention. Then he saw her. She shimmered, as if coming into focus in the night.

Her silver hair shone in the faint light of the alley, amplifying moonlight that was hidden by the tall buildings and scattered clouds above the city. She was sitting on a milk crate, with her knees hugged to her chest, wearing a light silky dress of blue and green. He noticed the silver bracelets on her ankles with jewels showing. She would not have them long, if she stayed around this part of the city.

She looked up at him as he stopped his flight. Her long, cascading silver hair fell in waves around her shoulders, framing her sharp features and piercing emerald eyes. The delicate curves of her face accentuated by the high cheekbones, giving her an air of regality, while her lips were full of promise, set in determination as she stifled her crying. Her complexion was pale, with faint freckles just visible in the poor light, giving her a youthful and sun-kissed appearance.

Finn shook his head, careful not to dislodge his glasses. Chivalry warred with self-preservation. His pursuers could come out any moment.

“Are you alright?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

“No,” she said in a flat tone, as if it should be obvious, she had problems.

Finn sighed. He didn’t have time for this. He also knew it was not in his nature to leave her in distress. Maybe it was a simple issue, he thought.

“Look, I want to help you, but I’ve got my own problems. Do you want help or not?”

She nodded and stood. She was almost his height. “I need to find a man I don’t know, in a place I’ve never been, and my goddess has abandoned me. Can you help?”

He shook his head. A crazy woman. He was on the run for his life and stopped to help a crazy woman. It didn’t matter if she was beautiful and mysterious, she was going to get him caught and killed, or worse.

“Possibly,” he said without thinking. He knew he could solve most challenges, given time to think. It was his habit to not shy away from any problem. “But I can’t do it here, and I can’t get caught here. If you come with me, I promise to try to help. Will that work?”

The woman flung her arms around him just as the night was shattered by the piercing blare of a door’s security alarm going off.

*****

 

Chapter Five

The alarm startled Finn, sending a surge of adrenalin through him and time seemed to slow. Should he duck and hide? The movement would attract attention, which he wanted to avoid. If he ran, they would surely follow. In a split second, as he sensed a head emerge from around the edge of the door, he decided.

He leaned forward and kissed the strange woman in his arms. She stiffened, as if to fight him off, but he wrapped her tightly in his arms, praying she would relax and not struggle. Thankfully, she did.

Her grip loosened, and she raised her fingers to the back of his head, almost caressing his scalp. Her lips were soft, inviting, and a delight to feel against his own even as he listened to the sounds mixed with the blaring of the alarm. No footsteps that he could hear.

Then the door slammed shut, and the alarm stopped, leaving the night eerily quiet in its aftermath.

Finn dropped his arms and stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, hoping to avoid any ire aimed his way.

The woman looked at him with … something. Longing? Appraisal? He was not sure what she was thinking but was glad she only nodded.

“We need to be going,” he said. “They may come back.”

“Why are they after you?” she asked in her soft tone, barely above a whisper.

“Long story,” he said. “They are after me because I’m after some bad people. I’ll tell you more later.”

He turned her toward the street and took her hand in his, glancing down at his phone clutched in his other hand. Still no warnings of surveillance.

Street, then turn left, he thought. Half a block to the subway. I can spoof the ticket gate, so no risks there. I’ll jam the cameras once we are on the platform. Depending on the trains, we’ll see how long we stay. Maybe the first train, possibly the second.

He knew every train made the agent’s search coverage expand exponentially. At this hour, any station would be busy. The subway was perfect to get lost in. They might revert to the surveillance feed, but his phone would thwart that.

He glanced out the side of his eye, admiring the calm, careful movements of his companion. She was beautiful and so graceful, as if every movement was planned and practiced until it was perfect. He had never seen someone like her before.

Then he realized the problem she would create. If the agents had seen her, she would stand out on surveillance footage. Her striking silver hair would be a beacon to them and an obvious lead to follow up on. Finn would either need to keep jamming their view, and risk creating a moving bubble of obscurity that would lead them to his neighborhood, or he had to find an alternative before they entered the subway. He would not leave her behind. He had given his word to help her.

Finn stopped her just short of the street.

“Here,” he said as he slipped off the canvas jacket with its soft fabric hood. He held it open for her. “We need to make you stand out less,” he said. “If we’re going to get away, I need you to wear this and pull up the hood.”

She nodded and slipped her arms into the jacket. The teasing sight of her smooth skin barely covered by the thin gossamer fabric of her dress sent a rush of lust through him. Finn forced those thoughts away, even as the memory of their kiss bubbled up in his mind. The sight of her plunging neckline was enticing. It had been too long. Colleen had been the last girl in his life, and that was over three years ago.

“Zip it up,” he said with a twinge of regret as he reached to pull the hood up and cover her head.

She shook her head, buttoned the jacket and then gathered her silver strands in a hand to make a simple twisted braid before tucking it inside the hood and hiding it from sight. Even in a drab work jacket, she looked spectacular to Finn.

“Okay,” he said. “We’re going out to the street and to the left. The subway is only a half block away. Hold on to my hand so we don’t get separated.”

She nodded and took his hand.

“I’m Elara,” she said softly as he stepped off.

Finn stopped. He looked at her and smiled. “I’m Finn.”

*****

Elara let the strange sights swirl past her, absorbed more than noticed. The cacophony assaulted her ears as they descended smooth rock stairs into a bustling cavern filled with people moving with purpose. Finn waved his hand device at the standing cage blocking their path and then pushed her through in front of him. She panicked for a moment but forced the fear down. Her feet clung to something on the floor, and she marveled at the scents assaulting her from all the people hurrying on their way.

Down another set of stairs, then into a long tunnel with a broad platform lining a lower portion. This must be the subway Finn had mentioned. Why not just call it a tunnel?

Then a strange sound, like a dull roar of water, could be heard in the tunnel. A moment later, as light appeared, followed by a moving string of metal and glass boxes. The contraption stopped by the platform and doors slid open as if by magic. People emerged from the metal beast, and then people on the platform walked on.

Elara felt a sinking in her stomach as she watched the door close. In all the realms of Elysia, she had never heard of such a strange device.

Where was she?

*****

 

Chapter Six

Finn looked down the street without focusing on any single shop, building, or person. He felt the neighborhood as much as watched it. Despite the late hour, people were out and about living their lives without realizing they were watched, even in darkness. He knew. He had helped build the modern surveillance state.

Finn's apartment building stood as an unassuming testament to everyday life. Its brick exterior was well-worn and faded, its once-vibrant colors now dulled by the passage of time and the relentless exposure to the elements. The building, a four-story structure with a pitched roof, blended seamlessly into the fabric of the community – an unremarkable presence amidst the myriad hues and architectural styles that defined the area.

It was safe in its anonymity. Nothing stood out on it to draw the eye. He glanced at his phone, checking his security systems and the spy-eyes he had scattered around the blocks near his home. The government would love to know how he managed to surveil the area without using local spectrum to transmit images. He smiled to himself. They would likely kill to keep others from being able to establish the quantum entangled communications he had perfected. It was just one of the secrets he needed to protect.

Elara stayed close to him, still disguised in his jacket. Something had troubled her in the subway. He had felt her stiffen and then drop her shoulders as if depressed by a sight, but nothing had stood out to him. His plan to spoof the video feeds in the station had gone off easily. They had boarded the third train into the station and then been whisked uptown to his neighborhood. He had stopped the interference with spy-eyes on a long section of tunnel around midtown.

Finn guided his newest problem through the entryway of his building and up the stairs to the third floor and the door of his apartment. There was nothing special to see on the door, but he knew it was far from typical. A glance at his phone confirmed it had not been touched or opened since he had departed. It unlocked with a tap of his thumb on his device, both the lock and doorknob untouched. His security was far better than simple mechanical locks.

The door opened to reveal a cozy living space filled with warm light. During the day, natural light from the north would stream in through large windows, bringing a hint of the outside in. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes on various scientific disciplines and technological innovations. The scent of cooking hung in the air brought from various vents in the building, mingling with the faint aroma of fresh paint and the distant echoes of laughter and conversation. It was a comforting clutter to Finn.

Elara followed him inside and watched as he closed the door and placed his hand against a small panel to the side. He held it there until it glowed red, then blue, and finally settled on a pale green hue. He dropped his hand and sighed.

“We’re as safe as I can make us,” he said with a smile.

Elara looked at him, clearly wondering what was next. She glanced around the room, looking at the books on shelves and spread about. Elara's gaze lingered on the plush couch, invitingly soft and well-worn from years of use. The warmth radiating from its cushions seemed to beckon her in, offering comfort if she chose to sit and relax.

Elara nodded, then pushed back the hood and unzipped her jacket. “Where are we?” she asked in her soft tone.

“My home. It’s safe,” Finn replied.

“No,” she said, shaking her head with a hint of frustration. “What realm are we in? This place, these people, they are not from any realm I know. Where are we?”

Finn scratched the stubble of his scruffy beard. “We’re here. I don’t know of any other realm. Where are you from?”

He was ready for the crazy to come back out, but now did not feel the fear of pursuit. She did not act crazy but scared. Maybe she was from someplace else. Finn was not going to assume she had broken with reality until she provided some more proof to his first thought of her. He was not quickly judgmental like that.

“Elysia,” she said softly. “I was born on the Ethereal Plains but raised in the Enchanted Forest. I was just starting my trials for the Moon Goddess when raiders attacked a village I was passing through. They took me and every woman younger than me. I think we went to the Realm of Shadows then.” A shudder passed through her, and her eyes took on a haunted look. She looked around fearfully for a moment, then looked back at Finn with a pleading expression. She looked down.

Finn followed her gaze, seeing her filthy feet. They were perfectly shaped and delicate, but dirty from walking barefoot through the city. He shook his head.

“You should clean up,” he said. “We can talk afterward. For now, let’s get you clean and settled a bit. The bathroom is down there,” he added with a wave of his hand to the short hallway leading to the bathroom and two bedrooms of the apartment.

Elara nodded, dropped his jacket on a chair, and walked away from him. His eyes followed her sinuous gait, admiring her beautiful figure. He shook his head again as she stepped through the doorway to the bathroom. He heard the water for the shower turn on.

Finn looked at the wallboard with the strings of connections he had tracked and verified. The proof from tonight made previously tenuous relationships more concrete. He had proof of the evil being done. Now he needed to expose the facts he had compiled. He turned on the stove and filled a kettle for tea. Who could he trust to bring this story to light?

*****

Elara closed the door behind her and looked around the tiled bathing chamber. A mirror filled the wall behind the washing basins. She figured out the taps and spotted similar handles in a glass enclosed space to one side. She reached in and turned them. Water began to stream out of a nozzle set high on the wall. She nodded and concentrated for the briefest of moments to let the weave of moonbeams that had made her dress slip away. Naked once more, she stepped into the small room and let the tepid water cascade over her body. She closed her eyes as the water warmed, then hung her head and cried softly.

“Goddess, hear my prayer,” she pleaded.

There was no responding sense of comfort or attention. She was alone, she reminded herself.

Her lessons on pity washed over her mind once again. With limited determination, she grabbed a sponge and scrubbed at her body. She tried to blot out the memory of being soiled by the vile man who had stripped her connection to her goddess. She wanted to wash away the memory of what he had done to her.

Elara used the bar of soap to clean herself further, shocked at the amount of filth that had accumulated on her feet. Finn had been right to ask her to clean up. He may not be the powerful person she needed to seek, but he seemed to be a good man. Even in her home, few people fleeing for their lives would have offered to help a stranger.

Once clean, she turned off the water and stepped back to the cold tile floor before the mirror. She saw a towel hanging on a bar, and used it to dry her hair first, then her body. She ran her fingers through her damp hair, and then without thinking, wove the moonbeams once again. It was easier this time, just as it had been easier the second time performing the weave as a novice. Looking in the mirror, she saw the dress was more substantial as well, less translucent and revealing. It was not yet the full length she expected, but it was below her knees now. Sandals were on her feet as well.

She nodded to herself. Maybe her goddess had not abandoned her completely.

*****

Finn was surprised when Elara reappeared, clean and in a different though similar dress. She also had sandals on her feet. His breath caught at the sight of her. He felt nearly invisible in her presence. His normal clothes were functional, not fashionable. He was still in the gray and charcoal plaid shirt and dark pants with the many pockets he had worn for the past three days. He had taken off his regular shoes while making tea and donned comfortable slippers before sitting at his small table to look at his notes.

“Thank you,” Elara said as she joined him. She eyed the cup of tea he had prepared for her and then lifted to smell the aroma.

“It’s an herbal blend,” Finn said. “I didn’t think caffeine was needed. I don’t know about you, but I need some rest before tackling next steps and figuring out how to help you.” He took a sip from his mug and was pleased when Elara copied him.

“You don’t believe my story,” she said after enjoying the first sip of the floral and citrus tea. She could feel his wariness at her assertion. The goddess had not abandoned her completely. Her lunar intuition was still with her. He required proof.

She reached out with her mind and canceled her moon weave once more.

Finn blinked as her dress disappeared and nearly dumped his hot tea in his lap. Even with damp hair and no makeup, she was stunningly beautiful. A moment later, she was clothed once more.

“I am to be a priestess of the Moon Goddess,” Elara said. “That is one of my gifts. I am not of your world, Finn.”

“I, I believe you,” he stuttered. “But why are you here? How did you get here?”

Elara nodded, then told what she recalled. She ignored her rape, not wanting Finn to look down on her or send her away. Such shaming and casting out would be expected back in Elysia. No woman should put herself in a position to be taken as Elara had been. At least that is what most of her folk believed.

Finn was nodding when she finished telling of her awakening in the alley and the suspicion, she had of being under a compulsion. “A quantum tunnel could explain your transport from one dimension to another,” he said. “I don’t know about this geas you mention, but it’s possible some sort of entanglement was used to override your sense of connection and will.” He shook his head again. “If that is what has been done to you, it’s evil worse than I’m fighting.”

“What do you mean?”

“The men I was fleeing are protecting evil here. They use the technology I helped make to watch and influence everyone; to wield their power. Worse yet, they use it to hide their own evil actions. If they had the power to control free-will, like what was done to you, they would be unstoppable.”

Elara paled at his words. The magician could already control her. Did he want someone from this world to do the same on a much larger scale? If the powerful here that Finn mentioned could watch the masses, how much worse would it be in Elysia when she completed her quest?

“What will you do?” she finally asked.

Finn sighed. “I need to turn over my proof to someone who can announce it to the world. If enough people are aware, the people will demand change.”

Elara felt unease with his plan. “You have such powerful bards here that can talk to the whole world?” Elara asked.

“No, but we have a few journalists who retain some integrity. They have the connections to broadcast what is going on. At least, I hope they do.” Finn stifled a yawn. “I need to sleep on it. I think I know who I can trust, but it’s been a long few days for me.” He eyed his couch. “You can take the bedroom, and I’ll stretch out here,” he said.

“You only have one bed?” Elara asked, suddenly tired as well. She had been unconscious, used, and abused, not asleep and resting.

“Yes. The second room is my office. I never put a bed in there.” He chuckled to himself. “I’ve never had a guest here before, for that matter. This has always been my refuge from the world.”

Elara sensed the honor in him as he thought. He would only bring a stranger here whom he had sworn to aid and protect. Finn may not be a powerful man in this world, but he was a good man. For now, that would have to be enough for her. She prayed the geas would agree.

*****

Malachi felt something through the bond he had created with the priestess. Sensing her thoughts across realms was more difficult than he had foreseen. He sat down in the chair on the balcony overlooking the chaos sea. The churning energy from this realm filled him with power. He closed his eyes, sending his senses down the bond. He could sense her struggle – her determination to forge a new path in a world dominated by technology and those who wielded its power. With a wicked grin, Malachi reinforced the geas he had laid upon her. His will whispered into the depths of her subconscious the importance of finding a man of power and influence in the realm of technology. Finding his prey would ensure her survival and success. He would have the power of that distant realm. He would use that power to bring the others to heel.

He embedded the return command deep within her mind, ensuring it would only be revealed when she ensnared her target and was ready to bring him back to his new master. Her desire would have no power. His target will would be tied to the priestess. Her quest would be fulfilled, regardless of her own feelings or desires.

His will, Malachi Guardian of Set, was all that would matter for the priestess’s quest.

*****

 

Chapter Seven

Elara woke to a feeling of deep-rooted fear, her heart pounding in her chest as her mind struggled to clear the cobwebs of disorientation. Her body was weak and trembling, every muscle protesting with each labored breath as she fought against the lingering sensation that something was amiss. A dark cloud of doubt loomed over her thoughts, casting a shadow on her memories – did she volunteer for her torment? She stood up in the cell without protest. Did she ask for the horror she faced?

Cold sweat bathed her as she struggled with the twisted covers on the bed. It took a moment for her to realize she was no longer in that dark realm. Sunlight beckoned from the translucent window shade. She forced her breathing to steady. Elara opened her mind to her surroundings, comforted by the simple, safe emotions in the building. She could feel Finn in the other room, sleeping with no sense of dread or concern.

Finn was a puzzle. His unassuming demeanor and quiet determination had piqued her curiosity, but his cryptic words and the air of danger that clung to him left her uneasy. He was older, maybe wiser, and exuded quiet competence like a ranger or one of the few priests sworn to the Moon Goddess. She could sense his determination and willingness to defend the weak, but he also desired to punish the people he hunted. She admired his courage in standing up against the oppressive regime and wanted to believe the same strength would help her. Time would tell.

She got out of bed and then knelt on the rug to stretch and perform her morning devotions. She struggled to keep her motions deliberate and smooth. Being unable to sense her patron or fellow believers made what had been second nature to her at home a challenge here. She finished the morning movement and knelt with her ankles crossed to meditate. Eventually, a semblance of calm was achieved.

Finn was stirring as she stepped softly into the main room of his apartment, clothed once again with her priestess’s garb. The weave of moonbeams was easier this morning, as if her mind had trod a path to the power. Maybe it was a clue as to where she was.

“Blessings of the Moon Goddess's tides upon you,” she said.

His eyes grew wide, and he fumbled for his golden rimmed glasses.

“Good morning,” he replied as he sat up.

Elara admired his physique as he stretched his arms above his head. Elara couldn't help but be captivated by the sight of him – every detail of his lean, toned frame accentuated by the soft glow of the morning sunlight. The sun-kissed freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks were more prominent than her own, and his deep brown eyes and the olive undertone to his skin spoke to an eclectic ancestry. She admired the way his strong jawline framed his angular face and how the wavy, dark hair that crowned his head clung to his forehead in scattered strands. The wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose only added to the scholarly yet approachable air he carried.

Finn moved quickly, placing his feet on the floor, unconcerned with her presence as he squared his shoulders and bent at the waist to stretch for the floor. Despite his slender build, there was an undeniable strength in him – a strength evident in the set of his shoulders and the unwavering glint in his eyes. His posture was upright and confident. He looked at her again and blushed.

“Sorry,” he said, glancing down at the well-worn shorts he had slept in. “I’m not used to having company. I usually hop out of bed and take care of my morning exercises.”

“I do something similar, making my devotions to the Moon Goddess. Don’t let my presence stop you,” she said as she went to the sink and the glasses in a rack next to it. The faucet was similar enough to the one in the bathroom that she was able to fill a glass and take a sip.

Finn was on the floor, just his toes and fingertips touching as he pressed himself up. His back and legs remained straight as he slowly lowered himself and then extended his arms once again. Elara admired the smooth motion and form.

“You do those well,” she said twenty minutes later as he finished his exercises.

Finn blushed, unused to having an audience. “I was raised by my aunt. She did not believe in much physical exertion. I refused to be like her. I started my exercises when I was young and have performed them every day since.”

Elara nodded. “Priestesses perform a form of the cycle every day as well.” She went to the center of the room and assumed her pose. Slowly, in time with her breathing, she flowed into the movements for the day that she had done in the bedroom. When she finished and returned to the opening pose, Finn was smiling.

“That looked similar to Tai-Chi,” he said. “Not that I know any of it, but that’s what I imagine it would look like.”

“That was the sixth movement of the waxing moon,” Elara said. She frowned. “I must assume that is the correct form. When was the last new moon here?” she asked.

Finn pulled up his small device, tapped on it rapidly. “A week ago. Eight days, to be exact.”

Elara nodded. “And the lunar cycle here?”

“Twenty-eight days,” he answered. “Why?”

Elara smiled with a sense of relief. “My goddess’s cycle remains the same in this realm. I may not be able to sense her, but it’s pleasant to know she is present all the same.”

It was Finn’s turn to nod. “I usually run or go down to the gym to swim,” he said as he moved to the sink and got his glass of water. “I won’t do that today.”

He glanced at her flowing dress. “We need to go out and get you something else to wear. Something that won’t draw attention.” His stomach made a soft rumble. “And we need to get some food.”

*****

Agent Pamela Wilson sat stiffly in the windowless conference room, wishing her partner was with her. Instead, their boss’s boss was there, staring at the two pages contained in the unmarked folder. Victor Sinclair was a legend within the agency.

He was a Princeton graduate, with all that entailed, who served in the Cryptographic branch of the Navy before being courted by the NSA who noticed his exceptional analytical skills and unwavering dedication to his work. He took his master’s in applied mathematics at Yale, and completed his doctorate at Harvard, leveraging the “old-boy” network to its fullest to become the youngest department head in the NSA. His teams and departments did work that most people did not want to hear about. It was rumored he was responsible for the undersea taps on the international fiber links around the globe. It was all “need-to-know” and super-secret, but the rumors still swirled as he climbed the ladder until he reached the level of Deputy Director. While he was a civilian now and reported to the general who was in charge on the organization chart, everyone knew he was calling most of the shots the agency made. He met with congressmen, senators, presidents, and the secretaries. If he noticed you, and liked your work, you could go far in the agency. If he questioned your competence, it was a good sign to start looking for a new job.

The only other person in the room was a deputy director from Homeland. Pamela was not introduced and did not want to know. Where Sinclair exuded calm competency, the other director fidgeted and had a sheen of sweat on his brow. He was obviously nervous.

Deputy Director Sinclair looked up at the fidgeting man, who gulped and then stared at the blank pad of paper before him.

“Agent Wilson,” Sinclair said while continuing to look at the man from Homeland. “Did any of the Homeland members attached to support your unit participate in the raid?”

“No, sir,” she replied, surprised her voice was steady.

“Did you request any assistance?” He asked.

“Yes, sir. Per SOP, we activated the whole ready team when we detected the possibility of compromise. Four of us were in the city when we narrowed the point of origin. Agent Wilson and I called for backup as soon as the signal was localized in downtown.”

“How many field agents are in the office there, Mister Phipps?”

The man gulped. “We have nearly two hundred agents, many working with customs, to monitor inbound traffic of interest.”

“And how many were on call or on duty when Agent Wilson requested backup?”

“A fast reaction squad of six is ready twenty-four by seven, sir.”

“And why did they not react?”

“The classification level of the op was above their clearance, sir.” His fidgeting returned.

“Don’t you think a fast reaction team should react to a call for assistance, regardless of the intelligence classification of the material that is at risk of being exposed?”

“Sir….”

“Did you think the perpetrator was going to print files and throw them on the floor or drop them in the street as a distraction?” He sat back, smiling a cold smile. “Or did you think my agents didn’t need backup since it was only a computer hacker?”

“No, sir.”

“I want you, Mr. Phipps, to personally update the SOPs for responding to a call for back up from my units, regardless of classification levels. You will then oversee the training on this updated procedure for any field office in Homeland with a fast reaction squad. You will also create a drill schedule where this updated SOP can be exercised regularly. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect you to brief your director on your team’s failure to engage and identify a major terrorist threat operating here inside our borders. You personally, should explain to him that the perpetrator was going after his account,” he glanced down at the paper, “Six, three, four, seven, two, one, seven, oh, nine, at the Miami Federal Savings Bank. You might mention that the person was also looking at accounts of Senator Mainer, Senator Addison, Congressman Stanley, and several other high-ranking government officials. It is possible, that Homeland’s failure to respond has exposed all these people to theft, blackmail, extortion.”

Phipps gulped.

Pamela counted the seconds as Vincent Sinclair stared at the man for more than a minute.

“You may go, Phipps. Don’t let me hear of Homeland’s poor showing again.”

The man scrambled from his chair and the room.

Vincent’s cold, calculating eyes turned to Pamela once the door closed.

“Do you know what he was after?” he asked in a slightly warmer tone.

“Only those accounts, sir. We know he was pushing into other banks and accounts but could not get them all from our counter surveillance. My priority tasking was determining the physical location of the attempt and apprehension. The monitors may have captured more, but once we narrowed his location, I was out of the office.”

“Would back up have actually helped?”

“Yes, sir. My partner and I could have cordoned the area, established a surveillance perimeter, and then proceeded if we had even two additional officers. With four, we could have at least watched all the exterior doors while we made entry. With a six-person reaction squad, I believe we would have entered the room as much as four minutes sooner. I don’t think we missed the perp by that much time.”

“I agree, Agent Wilson. You performed very well. I want to expand your role in this search. We have a very dangerous opponent in play, and don’t know what they are trying to accomplish. I want you to return to Crystal City with me. You’re getting a promotion.”

*****

Finn rummaged through the box in the closet in his office. The things he found were not attractive enough for his guest but would cover her and make her blend into the neighborhood a bit more.

“I can weave the moonbeams to cover myself,” she insisted from behind him.

“But can you match the look for clothes that will make you blend in?” He asked.

He pushed a pair of work pants at her without looking back. They were from the time he was refurbishing his apartment. Only a few stains were evident on them, and their dark color hid most of the wear. He grabbed an old plaid work-shirt to go with the pants.

“You’ll need to cinch in the waist a bit,” he said as he stood and turned to give her the top. “But the shirt should cover that. I promise I’ll buy you something better when we go out.”

Elara’s look was dubious. She held the pants to her waist, noting their length, and then reached for the shirt. Her fingers traced the front placket of the shirt, fingering the holes and feeling the nap of the fabric.

“I know it’s a little rough, but it will keep you anonymous until we get something better for you.” He looked at her mesmerizing blue eyes. “Please?” He added.

She gave him a curt nod and then shocked him by making her garb disappear once again.

Blushing, he turned back to the closet.

“You are embarrassed to look at me?” She asked with a hint of teasing in her voice.

“I’m just trying to be polite.”

“Things are different here,” she muttered.

Finn listens to the rustle of fabric and thought about the glimpse of perfection he had witnessed the night before as well. Elara was stunning, clothed or otherwise, he decided.

“I need a belt.”

Finn leaned forward, looking in the closet once more, peeking back to see her bare feet sticking out from the work pants.

“I’ll have to get one from my room. I don’t think there are any here.”

Elara followed him into the room she has slept in and stood while he went to his dresser. “Why can’t I weave a belt?” She asked.

“I’m probably being overly cautious, I’ll admit that. But I don’t know how your magic works and I don’t know that there are not side channels that might be detectable by our technology. Until I know that, I don’t want us to run afoul of any searchers.”

“How could they detect clothing made with my skills?” She asked.

Finn shrugged. “I don’t know that they could, but I’m not willing to take that risk when a simple solution is at hand. You can wear this stuff for an hour or so, then change into whatever we buy.”

He handed her a belt and held a ball cap in his hands.

“Once we are on the streets and going into stores, you’ll show up on cameras. I assume they got at least a brief look at you last night. Your dress would stand out, based on the style you seem to like, if nothing else. Your hair will be obvious as well if they see that. Can you pull it through this opening in the cap and wear it to change your look?”

Elara finished running the belt through the loops at the waist of her pants and pulled it tight. There was no hole suitable for her to notch and hold it in place. Finn saw the problem and pulled out a well-used multi-tool.

“Here, let me add a hole.”

Elara’s delicate scent of flowers and forest filled his nose as he leaned in to cut a small hole to keep the belt in place. His fingers felt the heat of her skin as he buckled it, then measured to cut off the excess. As he stepped back, she let the bottom of the shirt fall, covering their makeshift work.

She took the hat in one hand, looked at it, pulled the back tab open and collected her silver strands. She turned for Finn to assist her. He marveled at the silky texture of her hair as it fell against his hand but hurried to close the cap’s fastener.

“How do I look?” She asked as she turned back to face him.

“Stunning.” Any other answer would be a lie, no matter how shabby the clothes were. “I have some old tennis shoes that will do until we can get you something better. Again, I’m sorry about this.”

She shrugged. “I understand you want to be cautious. I don’t know your world, so will heed your advice. I need to blend in to search here, so will follow your lead.”

“Thank you. There are a couple of small shops two blocks over. We can go there and get you something better. It won’t be very fashionable, but it will at least fit. Then we can go uptown a little and get you something better.”

“Won’t visiting many stores increase our risks?” Elara asked.

Finn nodded. “Yes, but once we are clear of this neighborhood, I can spoof surveillance to make us less obvious. We’ll take the subway again and fade in and out of the crowds. It’s not rush hour, but the streets and trains will still be busy.”

“I don’t understand. Wouldn’t a scrying spell follow us regardless of where we went?”

Scrying. Finn knew the word, and understood why she might think that is what was happening. He shook his head.

“They don’t know who we are, hopefully, so they’ll just be looking at who stands out. Your hair, gait, and style are distinctive. We’ll change your style, and hide your hair for now, so that should help. I can spoof their cameras randomly, so that will disguise your gait and hide you in a crowd. With a little luck, you won’t stand out enough that they spot you.”

“So, your spoofing defeats the scrying they can do?”

“More or less. They have other methods, but that’s as good an explanation as any.”

“Would it help if I could change my appearance, not just my clothes?”

“Can you?”

She looked unsure. “Maybe. Some priestesses have the power of Lunar Transformation as a gift from our goddess. I’ve heard of it but not developed the affinity yet. I can try.”

“How long would you need?” He really wanted to eat, then make the rendezvous to share his information.

Elara shook her head. “Days, possibly more. My power seems so strained in this realm. I’ll need to meditate, pray, and see if I can figure it out. I know the theory, but not the practice.”

“Okay, practice when you can, and meanwhile, we’ll do it the old-fashioned way.”

*****

Malachi looked out over the glorious, chaotic sky of the Realm of Shadows. It was too soon for the priestess to have gained her goal, but he was pleased the first steps had been taken. He knew time flowed differently here. It was one of the reasons he chose this realm and location to build his obsidian palace. The massive sea of chaos that he could tap into and manipulate was the other. Here he could sense and manipulate the raw power that drove all the realms. Weaker magi that followed other paths never understood how chaos under-pinned everything, even the power of the celestials.

Once he had mastery of the chaos-laced realm he had sensed, he would be able to bring structure to the power and use it in ways unimagined before. He would rise to become the lord over chaos and wield the power to create and destroy realms. He knew there would be challenges in learning this new skill and new type of magic, but sensed it was the path he was destined for. One technomancer, the best that strange world had to offer, would be under his control to teach him all he needed to know.

*****

 

Chapter Eight

Elara felt naked despite being clothed. She was used to sensing a weave of moonbeams providing her priestess’s attire. Now she wore loose, coarse jeans and a scratchy woolen shirt like that of a laborer but at least had a silky-smooth camisole underneath and shoes that fit. She had her own tan jacket to keep away the chill, and a ‘baseball cap’ to cover her head. The clothes were a step up from the hand-me-downs Finn had found in his closet but were not things she looked forward to donning. The absence of that subtle caress of magic made her nervous and self-conscious.

At least the food smelled good, she thought. The busy ‘diner’ Finn took her to was filled with polished stone and metal. A long counter dominated the room and a woman in a plain uniform bustled back and for the behind it, serving the patrons with practiced ease.

They were in a booth, not by the window, but close enough to have plenty of daylight. Finn had ordered for her, and she marveled at the pile of eggs, potatoes, and toast on her plate. She had never been served such a large meal before.

“Dig in,” Finn said as he attacked his plate. “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.” Despite his words, he paused on the first bite of his food. He closed his eyes, savoring the flavors and chewing slowly. Then he nodded and took another bite. She found his actions curious.

“Oh? Will we find the man I need today?” Elara asked as she mimicked his use of the knife and fork. She was used to the much simpler eating sticks of her home.

Finn shook his head, frowning. “No, but we’ll get a sense of whom you should be looking at or for. I need to deliver things to Amy. She’s a reporter. She has years following the political folks and business trends and will know who has power as well as who buys that power. I wouldn’t be surprised if my targets are some people she’ll suggest.”

Elara thought about his words. “You mean the most powerful might be evil?”

“Highly likely,” Finn replied as he stabbed several of the fried potatoes and dragged them around the yolk of his eggs.

“But I would rather not find an evil man,” she protested, even though she could feel the geas did not care if the person was good or evil.

Finn shrugged. “It might be a woman,” he said. “My experience is that power corrupts. People who seek power are susceptible to abusing that power as well.”

Elara could sense the truth in his words. The mage who had used her had great power, and obviously abused it based on what she had seen and felt. Priestess Nightbloom had power and was not evil, she thought, but even as she thought it, she knew her mentor’s power was far less than the wizard’s had been. She set the fork down on her plate, suddenly not hungry.

“How am I going to bind someone that powerful to me and return him to Elysia?” she asked herself softly. She shuddered at the thought of using her body to entice a person of evil. What power would she have to compel them?

“Hey,” Finn said a moment later, interrupting the dark thought racing through her mind. “I find it helps to focus on one step at a time. Don’t tackle problems you might not have. Amy may tell us these bastards aren’t the most powerful. Maybe we’ll figure out how to break this spell on you. Let’s just focus on what we need to accomplish today, okay?”

His eyes were kind, she thought. She hoped he was right.

“When will we meet this, Amy?” She managed to ask after taking a small bite of food.

Finn glanced at the oblong device; the phone he had called it. “About an hour from now,” he said. “She’s started her journey.”

“How do you know?” Elara asked.

Finn gave her a crooked smile. “I’m very good at my job. My messages to her have included more than she would know. I’ve triggered the backdoor on her phone and set it to send me location updates. I know where she thinks she’s going and can track her progress toward that goal. We’ll intercept her and go to where we can have a private chat. If anyone has cracked her messages, they’ll watch where they think she is going. She won’t ever be there.”

*****

Finn watched the crowd ebb and flow, glancing at his phone and waiting for the small blue dot on his screen to materialize into the person he was expecting. The plaza was always busy. It was a major pedestrian transit point due to some idiot’s poor planning. Two subway stations were a block apart, with no connection except to go up to the street and cross this plaza only to re-enter the underground stations. Their poor planning was his opportunity. Thankfully, it was not raining or otherwise miserable outside.

Finn considered Elara sitting a short distance away, sipping a cup of tea he had purchased for her with clear instructions. Stay at the small table, sip, but don’t finish the tea, watch the crowds but don’t stare at anyone, and rise and follow him when he meets Amy. Hopefully, she would be able to do that much in what was obviously a strange world for her.

The fact that she could understand his speech, but not read the menu at the diner, made him think some sort of quantum effect was at play. She had admitted to being able to sense his moods. Maybe it was some sort of verbal telepathy.

He shook his head. She wasn’t crazy, he had decided. Her trick with the clothes had convinced him of that much. Reading about magic in some fantastical piece of fiction was one thing; seeing it up close was another. Finn’s detail-oriented brain thought through the ramifications and possibilities. If she was from another dimension, he had some scientific basis for understanding. With time and resources, he could figure out a way to get her home. He was confident of that. It might even give him a chance to escape anyone hunting him.

“Set that aside for later,” he thought. He considered the compulsion on her while he waited. “Possibly, it’s some sort of signal,” he muttered. “A Faraday cage to interrupt the signal?” It would work if it was an electronic signal. If it were quantum-based, he’d have to take a different approach. The good news was that he could test to see if it was electronic.

He had given his word to help her. She assumed it was helping to find someone powerful enough to complete her quest. He knew that power went hand-in-glove with corruption and evil. He was not about to help her control some evil bastard just to help someone worse in her world. Finn had dreamed about that scenario. No, he needed to help her defeat her compulsion and be free of the magician trying to control her. The question of how remained.

Amy Sterling emerging from the stairs of the subway station interrupted that train of thought.

Finn glanced at his phone, confirming there was no active surveillance running nearby. He knew if the government was following her, they would be in contact with one another. That would expose them to his phone’s searching as well. He also knew there was always the possibility of passive tails on her, so scanned the crowd for any signs of pursuit.

Amy passed between his position and Elara’s table. Her sharp jawline was set in a determined expression, and she kept her eyes on the opposite side of the plaza, as if anxious to make it to the next train. Finn rose to walk parallel to her path. Amy had striking features framed by a mop of curly chestnut brown hair that refused to be tamed, and piercing blue eyes held an intensity that belied her age. A medium-height, lean figure, she carried herself with the quiet confidence borne from years of experience and a deep sense of determination.

Finn had met her twice in person before. Each time, saying little and passing along information and tips. He had never asked her for a favor or tried to coach her on how to present the information he had uncovered. This meeting would be different.

She did not know she was meeting him, per-se. He used a new, different alias for this contact. He had built up his virtual credibility with breadcrumbs from his investigation, giving her the clues needed to follow the path he had already traversed. Today would be different. It was time to show her most, if not all, his cards. The proof could be verified, but that would require exposing some of his methods, and that would increase the risk to him.

Only a handful of people were supposed to know about his work, embedding mutable microcode in the chips of the world’s phones. The agency would immediately start tracing everyone who knew of his hack. It would not take them long to single him out. Once they had a last known name and location, they would bring everything they could to the hunt. It would no longer be a search for a nuisance hacker; it would be a manhunt for a traitor.

“Maybe a quantum tunnel to a magical dimension is what I need,” he thought as he closed on Amy.

He approached from her left, pretending to be jostled into her. As she looked at him confused, he cupped her elbow and leaned close enough to whisper, “Let’s take a detour to have a little talk.”

Her eyes went wide. It was the pass phrase she was supposed to use to identify herself to him at the meet-up. If it was possible, her eyes grew even wider as she recognized his face.

“You!”

Finn smiled, hoping it conveyed some boyish Irish charm. “Let’s head this way.”

He guided her toward an alley. A fire door was blocked open just a bit. Elara met them just as he reached it. Amy glanced at the other woman and then set her jaw with a nod to Finn to lead on.

*****

“How did you get this?” Amy asked as she sat on a toolbox opposite Finn in the middle of a bare room. Exposed studs and temporary windows were hidden behind plastic draped scaffolding and an un-boxed chandelier rested in one corner waiting to be hoisted to the freshly painted ceiling high above them. Elara sat on a crate with her arms crossed, her brow knit tightly as she watched from one side.

“That’s part of the story,” Finn admitted. “It’s a part that will get me killed if it comes out.”

Elara was startled, as if surprised by this news.

“What do you mean?” Amy asked.

“I helped them create the system they are now abusing,” Finn admitted after a long moment, searching Amy’s eyes. “If they realize how I got this info, they will know it can only be from a handful of people. Most of those people still work at the agency. So far as I know, all the others are still there.”

“And they’ll kill you to keep this secret?” Amy asked.

Finn nodded. “What do you think would happen if everyone in the world found out that their phones could be turned into a remote listening device, or triggered to send their location to the government? Look at what they are doing with this technology under the guise of protecting us all.”

He pointed to one of the pages he had printed for her. “This is what they would kill me for.”

Amy studied the page. It was filled with arcane symbols and strange little diagrams. Elara would have assumed it was a spell. Finn called it quantum mathematics.

“How much math do you know?” Finn asked.

“Not enough to decipher this,” Amy said with a snort.

“In mathematical terms, this is a theorem. My master’s thesis outlined parts of this paper as an approach to prove mathematically how quantum entangled electron pairs of certain properties are the same electron, not a pairing.”

Amy looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Try again,” she said.

“If the two electrons are identical, not just coupled, you can manipulate one over here,” he raised his left hand and wiggled his fingers. “And the same thing happens over here.” He raised his other hand and wiggled it.

“Ok. So?”

“What if this electron,” he wiggled his left hand. “Is separated from its counterpart by say a firewall, or an encryption protocol?”

Amy stared at him for a moment. “Why would they kill you for math?”

“Because that is how they break the systems. No system with the chips I helped create is safe or secure.”

She shrugged. “There have been other surveillance scandals. I don’t think they would kill you for showing what they can do.”

Finn shook his head. “You don’t understand. They practically gave away the chips. They aren’t just in phones. Not only that, but they are in every router and switch in the networks of the world. Every computer people have bought in the past ten years likely has them. They were clandestinely smuggled to other nations on purpose, so they are in every government of the world. If someone was given the circuit models and copied them, they can be compromised. With this capability, there are no secrets left except the ones they want to keep.”

“Holy shit,” Amy whispered. “And you broke into their vault of secrets.”

Finn nodded. “The rest of this data,” he said, pointing at the small storage and transfer device he had given her. “Shows what they want hidden. It shows their secret bank accounts that are supposed to be untraceable. It shows the sick videos of them buying and selling men and women and performing heinous acts on them and then selling the videos of those acts. Likewise, it shows the blackmail messages they sent to people in power to bend them to their will. It lays it all out in detail, once you have the key to crack the code.”

Amy stood up and began pacing the room.

“Even if I don’t show all the details, I must be able to verify the data. How can I do that without you being involved?”

“You’re going to have to dig for it. I can point you in the right direction, but you’ll have to contact some experts in the field. This packet has the breadcrumbs you should follow on the technical side.” Finn handed her a thick, plain envelope.

“It includes some incriminating evidence you can use to flip three key low-level bankers to your side. Once that’s done, and you have some additional tech help, you’ll have a lot of verification to do. Nothing I’m handing you would be admissible in anything apart from the court of public opinion. You’ll have to dig to get your story.”