v2 PROLOGUE: The Mortal Sins of Bureaucracy
Victoria Lombardi despised paperwork. But there it was, piling up all over her desk, just like it always did if she looked away for more than a day or two. I didn’t sign up for this, she thought for the ten thousandth time. I was trying to make a difference, do something new. Find an approach for government intervention into the supernatural that would actually prove effective…
“Contemplating all the reports you need to write, ma’am?” Victoria looked over at her chief of staff, who by this time tomorrow would be her former chief of staff. He’d been packing his desk with typical efficiency and deliberation, but looked up at her with a twinkle in his eye.
“You’re sure I can’t convince you to stay? Maybe one more month?” It was the seventh time she’d asked him; her tone grew slightly more desperate each time. The white-haired man picked up his hat, a tan homburg with a brilliant feather in the band. They’d been mistaken for father and daughter more than once, which Victoria took as a compliment. She was pushing forty, and relished a reminder that she looked younger, but Alaric Beaumont-Lefevre also bore unmistakably good looks: chiseled features and an aristocratic mien that hadn’t diminished with age.
“Victoria, dear. I know this is nerve-wracking, but you’ll be fine.” A good percentage of Alaric’s job involved soothing Director Lombardi’s frayed nerves, but the effect wore off as his departure neared. “The Office of Supernatural Affairs is practically running itself now, thanks to you.” You mean, thanks to you, thought Victoria. I’d have been up shit creek without a paddle if you hadn’t agreed to help.
“The branches are all staffed,” Alaric continued in his polished British accent. “California is looking to bring on advisors so they can do something similar… It’s all going swimmingly, wouldn’t you say?”
Victoria scowled. “Sure, it’s all just swimmingly peachy keen until it’s not—until the shit hits the fan, and you know it always does in this line of work!” She stood up and placed her palms on the expanse of her desk, trying not to lose her patience. Both palms rested on stacks of forms that needed signing.
“Look, I’ve learned all about the supernatural, magic, nanotechnology, and a hundred other risks from the other side of portals in the last eight years. Still, when you get down to it? I’m trained as a social worker, a psychologist, a hostage negotiator, and a civil servant, more or less in that order.”
“Oh, is that all?” Alaric raised one eyebrow and smirked. “No wonder they made you the Director. Don’t forget, you’re not bad as a markswoman, either.” He lifted his walking stick and poked the holster of her service revolver, lying at one end of her desk.
“What I don’t know,” she continued, ignoring his banter, “…is all the things I don’t know about yet. The boggarts and jabberwocks that could show up, or whatever else. That’s why I asked you on as an advisor.”
“Jabberwocks aren’t real,” said Alaric. “Lewis Carroll just thought it was a funny name for a monster. Boggarts… hmm, I wouldn’t say you need to worry about them all that much, unless of course—”
“You’re proving my point, Al! Where am I going to get an expert opinion? You think I should call up Monsignor Albert over at the cathedral? I’m sure he’d be real friendly.” She sat down again, exasperated.
Alaric’s expression grew serious, and he stroked his white goatee, just once. “Vicky, listen.” She sat up; he rarely called her by her nickname. “Portal Day wasn’t yesterday. People have had over a decade to study and investigate all manner of arcane subjects. There are more experts than I. Find someone you can trust.”
“I’ve been looking,” Victoria complained. “I started looking the day you said you had to return home! But there’s nobody out there with the same level of experience.”
“I said someone you can trust.” He thumped his walking stick on the ground. “There are plenty of competent sorts around who can act as chief of staff, but for advice on the supernatural… you needn’t turn to an old biddy like me. Find a young, bright spirit with the right instincts. Goes further than years of digging oneself a rut, and I know.”
She thought about the prospect for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Tell me again why you have to leave.”
“My kin request my assistance in the old country,” he replied. “More portals have opened: across the seas, in the glens and under the hills. My sister worries that… the balance of seasons has shifted. The Ways are open that should stay closed. The secrets that should have stayed buried, unearthed. That, and as you know… I’m getting quite old. It’s time the next phase of my life began.”
It was the same explanation he’d given her before, delivered with the same quiet gravity, and just as enigmatic. Victoria sighed. “Professionally, I wish I understood what you were talking about; personally, it sounds terrifying.”
He reached over and patted her hand. “No need to worry for now, Director. You see to the greater New York area, and I’ll tend to my ancestral gardens. Now, that reminds me. You mentioned Monsignor Albert; this arrived by messenger just before I did.” He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a small envelope with a red wax seal.
Victoria wrinkled her nose and snatched it from him. “Why can’t he just call or text me? This reeks of medieval roleplaying, or something.”
“Security, I believe?” Victoria broke the wax with her thumbnail, and a puff of energy dissipated. Alaric continued. “You see? It’s properly cleansed and sealed to prevent interference. What’s more, I suppose this… rather antiquated method allows the Monsignor to keep us at arm’s length. Church and state, as you Americans say.”
The elderly official waited as Victoria read the single folded piece of paper inside, then handed it to him. In hastily written, crabbed letters, the message read:
Unprecedented situation in Otterbrook; avoid area for nowVatican containment en route, best not to interfereT.S. finally went too far. Already approached me re: interim for CSWCoordinate? Think it over. Will update on cleanup later
“Oh… dear,” said Alaric. Victoria grimaced. The old man only used that tone, drawing out his vowels lazily, when something was extremely wrong. “Isn’t Otterbrook where…?”
She nodded. “That compound we couldn’t see inside, twenty miles outside of that tiny Catskills town with two stores. You were right, it’s heavily warded. I could never find a pretext to send an investigator up there, either.”
Alaric shrugged in response. “They’d just find some way to throw up a smokescreen. Or they would have… it seems the days of the Curia for Supernatural Warfare might be numbered?”
“Or under new management, at least? I don’t trust Albert any further than I can throw him. But I’d take him any day over that Spencer creep!” She indulged herself in a shudder. She’d only met the man once, but it had been more than enough.
Alaric was nodding sagely. “There’s are reasons I warned you not to meet with him alone.” He looked at his watch. “Well, you’ll have to tell me what comes of Monsignor Albert’s new overtures.”
Victoria blanched. “Wait… you’re not leaving for another week, right? Can I call you if… if I can’t find something, or I need a contact?”
“Certainly,” Alaric said. “But I’ve got a hair appointment in twenty minutes, and there’s much to do after that. We’ll talk again. I have some notes and reminders for you.” He put his hat on his head, brushing a lock of red hair behind his ear, and pulled out a slim, leather-bound notebook. Red hair? Victoria blinked. Was she seeing things? The man’s hair was white.
Alaric read off a list. “Keep an eye on Lavant, that rogue Hunter. He’s expanding operations, and I’m still worried the man might be a a loose cannon, at least compared to his reclusive kin. Hm. The rest is less sensitive, I’ll message you instead. But about this unprecedent situation upstate, Vicky…”
“Yes?” There it was again, her nickname.
“When a building crumbles, it sends all manner of rats and bugs scurrying into the night. In this case, some larger creatures as well. Be on the lookout for the ripple effects, good and ill alike.” Victoria nodded. If there was anything she’d realized the Office of Supernatural Affairs had to do constantly, it was just that: looking out for trouble.