Page 76 of Fatality on the Field

“Tell her I believe in her and that I know she whipped that pissy prince into line. Also, Kaspar is working on his notes for the shark demon. And, uh, I hope she’s doing okay. Don’t mention the poisoning thing yet,” I frown as I dictate and Channing’s fingers fly over the screen. “I’d rather talk to her about that myself. I know her well enough to phrase it so it won’t trip her anxiety—I think.”

I offer Channing one of my muffins and she takes it, tears it in half, and eats the bottom first, which should be a crime. For a moment, we both just chew, sip coffee, and pretend there aren’t twelve active crises lining up at my door. When she finishes the treat, Channing dusts her hands on a napkin and says, “You know, I always thought college was supposed to be the best four years of your life. Seems like your friend and the students here are not getting that experience. Is that a supe thing or…?”

I snort so loud it scares Des into dropping from my ear down to my shoulder. “I think it’s variable depending on the world around us when we’re there, right? Right now, something shitastic is going on across the globe and between the realms. Unfortunately for the kids in school now, their experience will be distorted as this gets worse. Sort of like the human kids were for a couple years during that plague, you know?”

“Yeah, but I guarantee that fucks you up for longer than just a couple years. Look at the history from humans or us during the time of the Great Wars,” Channing murmurs. “No one who was young during that time came out unscarred by horrors no one wants to repeat. Anthropology says that large scale crises like this change the face of the future. I hate that for them, you know?”

Nodding, I sip my coffee and then sigh. “You’re talking to someone who lived through it, Channing. I lived through a lot of wars and big moments, especially since I grew up in Europe.”

Her eyes blink for a moment and she actually turns red. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Sorry.”

I laugh and shrug. “It’s easy to forget when I don’t look like a crusty mummy, huh?”

Before she can answer, the cell phone on her lap rings and she groans. “Not this fucker again.” Arching a brow, I wait for her to continue. “Some guy has called five times this morning, demanding to know what you’re doing about the Bowl security situation. I logged his number as ‘VIP Pest’ so you can ignore it at your leisure, but I can’t block him.”

“Forward the last message to the head of security and tell that dipshit to handle it.” I finish my muffin, lick a bit off my thumb, and I grin. “We don’t have to juggle everything, Channing, and that is most certainly in his job description if it’s not someone at our level. We don’t have to answer to crazies, nor be stalked by a mystery jackass.”

Channing takes her coffee in both hands and leans back, face finally relaxing. “You know what, boss?” she says. “I’m gonna do just that and then block the douchebag. Thanks.”

“Anytime, Chan.”

For another minute, the office is quiet, warm, and full of the promise that maybe we’re not doomed to fail this Bowl thing. I raise my coffee in salute to the only other person in the building smart enough to make certain I have sugar, caffeine, and a nasty piece of work to petrify if I’m going off the rails.

Of course, who knows what the rest of the day will bring, but I’m gonna savor this while it’s happening.

Now that the break is over, Channing is sorting today’s incoming snail mail, sliding VIP drama into a ‘handle later’ pile, while handing me the urgent stuff. There’s slightly less urgent stuff today and with three and a half days left until the damn event, that’s a good sign.

“What’s the latest on Jackson and his merry band?” I ask as I read the report about the new security measures the local council has enacted, since my call with the Society assholes. “I assume Eli is stretched pretty thin, huh?”

Chan gives me the side-eye, as she sets her tablet down. “Do you want the official answer or the real one? Because I have both, depending on how concerned you are.”

“Start with the good stuff,” I say as I wink and then go back to reading. “Why bother with the dry-ass party line?”

The elemental clears her throat, glances at the closed office door, and says, “Eli’s setup is next-level, which I’m sure you probably imagined. However, it’s less like a hacker movie and more like, ‘rent a volcano for a secret meeting’ level. He’s got proprietary predictive algorithms, military grade monitoring systems, and data streams that are better than most governments in this facility. The place is a refurbished bunker and I have no idea how it got set up as quickly as it did.”

I whistle. “Jackson’s got more money and less discernment than a rich kid on a coke binge, sounds like. I suppose I get that when it’s both helping your business and spoiling someone you’re fucking.”

Channing snorts, emboldened by my statement. “Yeah, that’s about right, I think. He’s got Eli watching everything for us, for his friend in the Hollow, and running random things we send about the bigger picture. I guess he needed more hardware to really be thorough.”

I lean forward, curious about one of those things. “Jackson’s Hollow contact is the ‘fabulous woman’ those docs talked about, right?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s true. I know they went to college here together and have a very close friendship. But the cute Fae doc said she’s got a passel of mates, so no one needs to worry.”

“Who’s worried?” I snort. “I’m barely able to deal with five men vying for my attention, much less— oh.” I look at her with a wry expression. “You don’t need to worry, Channing. You are one hell of a catch and if my flighty lawyer doesn’t treat you right, I’ll put him in my new fucking garden, okay?”

“Thanks, M, but it’s just… you know. Old wounds. I think Rain or Kendie would skin him alive, truth be told. So no need to make a spot. You should keep them for all the other bastards we’re going to handle.” I wink at her again and we both laugh, then she continues. “Our enemies know the best way to keep you from investigating them is to make your life so busy you can’t even think. We’re going to overcome that, just not yet.”

I rub my temples as I sigh. “The ploy is working at the moment, though. I can’t even keep track of my own schedule most days. I’m terrified I’ll miss shit and people will die because of it. Are Jackson and his guys going to be at the Bowl or not?”

She taps her tablet and flips the screen around to show me a grainy thermal map. “Eli will be on the bottom level, behind the maintenance cage. He’s got two private guards who signed NDAs so dense you’d get a migraine just reading the preamble. Rain, Kendie, and Foley will be rotating all over. Jackson will likely be in the VIP suite with other alums showing his face on purpose.”

“Smart. Dangerous for Eli, but smart. Having someone underground, tied to the networks and hacking is a very solid plan.” I take a sip of my coffee, thinking it over. “So that’s five of them and two private guards. How many more is he sending?”

Channing’s voice drops to a hush as she whispers. “Double digits for security, but that’s not counting the ones that will be with each of his crew as a team. We’ll have some in the boxes we’re in as well, Morgana. He’s hoping to ensure that whatever goes on, our families are safe first, and then the rest of the stadium.”

“After the Bowl, we need to drop their entire op into a black box and have Eli himself build us something to link all the incidents—big and small—across the realms so we can map it. We’ll never catch up to the fucking comic book guys if we don’t suss out the patterns, you know?”

“I’ll note that for later. It’s a good idea.” She hesitates, then lowers her voice even more. “Eli is also running a dummy betting account for one of the Bowl’s VIP donors. He thinks the big play is going to hit at halftime, but the chatter on the private feeds says there’s a pregame distraction planned for the west gate.”