Generation Witch Year One Page 3

  “Pretty much.” Charlie said quietly, before he turned his attention back to the other man.

  “Look, I found another one. Same story as the others. Except this one might be an orphan.”

  The man looked at the other girl for a moment. “No parents?”

  “My father’s dead,” Tillie answered for them both. “I don’t know about my mother though.”

  “That’s a shame,” the other man said with open sympathy and compassion. “That’s what we come to expect from the merc armies of the Regency Council.” Stepping aside just a little, he said: “Why don’t the two of you come and in and we’ll get you situated.”

  Tillie nodded. “I’m so tired right now. I’ve been on the run for most of the night. And walking long distances hasn’t helped.”

  “Sorry, but we can’t take any chances.” Charlie said in small defense of himself and the others. He stopped in front of an old registration desk that had three red bound ledgers—one of them open.

  “Sign your name right here.” He said with a small amount of authority in his voice. “—and I’ll sign mine afterwards.”

  “Full name?” Tillie wanted to know—curiosity getting the better of her.

  “No. Just Charlie. That’s it.”

  The girl nodded slowly. “You should pick a last name then,” she said. “How about mine?”

  “I don’t know you well enough yet to do that.” Charlie said with a small rush of embarrassment on his part.

  “Just saying.” She said with a winsome smile on her part as she took the ink pen and signed her name below the one above. But it looked like a new page since there were only a couple of recent entries—none of them current.

  At least not in the past six months or so.

  Taking note of that, Tillie had another question on her mind.

  “How long as this been going on?” She wanted to know. “This Underground movement?”

  “A long time,” the attendant said—checking a few things himself just to make sure everything was spotless, perfect, and regulation.

  Then he went behind the desk and drifted towards the back towards a heavy metal safe that had an actual electronic combination lock on it and started pushing buttons.

  Tillie listened to the beeping noises and said: “With my luck, this whole part of the hotel is just a front for another hidden level or staircase. In that respect, I’m expecting to meet a smoking dragon underneath it all.”

  Charlie laughed despite himself.

  “You’ve been watching too much TV. The classics will only rot your brain.”

  “But then where would I be able to pass the time?” Tillie asked pleasantly.

  “Your studies?” Charlie guessed.

  “I was actually in between semesters at the Academy of Magic and Arts when—”

  “When everything went straight to hell.” Charlie finished for her.

  “Yeah. Pretty much.” Tillie said, crossing her arms and leaning up against the counter for support.

  “Follow me.” The attendant announced at that point, clutching a spare set of room keys.

  “We’re not going to meet Felix?” The girl asked with a small amount of trepidation in her voice.

  Charlie looked at the attendant for a moment, who didn’t say anything in turn.

  “No.” He threw out knowingly. “It’s much too late for a meeting. For now, we show you to your room. You’ll be woken up around eight. Breakfast is at nine. You’ll be taken to a waiting room here and—”

  “—be bored in the meantime?”

  Charlie shrugged.

  “Sorry. It’s the rules. Even I can’t go against them—even if I wanted to.”

  Tillie blew out her breath—knowing that her options (if one could call them that) were extremely limited.

  “How about…if I stay with you?” She tossed out half-seriously.

  “Sorry. But messenger boys like me don’t get to flirt with the damsels in distress. It’s in the rule book.”

  The girl snorted in mock disappointment. “Damn. Welp, there goes that idea.”

  “I wouldn’t be able to accept you even if I could. My place isn’t exactly the lap of luxury either. You wouldn’t like it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Um…it’s basically a concrete pillbox and a spring mattress on a cot. No heat either except with a portable.”

  Tillie grinned. “I’ve had worse.”

  “Perhaps so, but right now…you need to get to bed. And I need to get going.”

  “Will you come back tomorrow?” The girl wanted to know—hope springing eternal.

  “If I can. But I won’t promise. I’m still on patrol topside. The world doesn’t stop for just one person. We still have to get as many magical kinsfolk down here as quickly as we can. Before they start razing cities and purging the countryside.”

  Tillie nodded somberly. “Okay. Good luck. Be safe.”

  Charlie nodded gratefully. “I will.” He said, before tossing off a quick salute and disappearing out the door and down the street.

  Tillie watched him go for a moment longer while the attendant waited on her and then asked if she was ready.

  “Yeah. Just can’t believe my luck.” She said, as the two of them stepped out of the travel lodge’s registration office and headed down the lit walkway.

  There were a few doors that she could see which had faded brass

  numbers on them—but no way to tell if they were occupied or not.

  Rather than ask the obvious, the girl followed the attendant for a minute more as they crossed a small parking lot and ended up in front of the “I” section of the travel lodge.

  “Your room for the night.” The man said, unlocking the door for her benefit.

  “Only…one night?” Tillie asked.

  “That’s how it’s set up around here. We have limited space available, so we have to rotate room assignments every day—to keep the vacancy rates up. It’s rare for anyone to spend more than a few days here at any rate.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t worry. A more permanent room will be assigned to you once you’re evaluated by Felix and his team and debriefed.”

  “Evaluated?”

  “You think that we would allow a magical familiar in the depths of Level One if we didn’t properly screen our visitors? The above world isn’t very friendly—as you might have guessed—but we value our safety and comfort as much as the next free person.”

  “Does the Regency Council know about this place?”

  The attendant smiled. “If it did, this place wouldn’t be much of a secret. Are you planning on telling them?”

  Tillie scowled. “Fuck no. I would rather kill them all than be a snitch.”

  “Glad to hear that,” he said, moving to the bedside and turning on a lamp.

  “There are fresh clothes in your size. Pajamas as well. I would suggest a shower before you go to bed. In the morning, your old clothes will be taken and washed and then returned to you later on.”

  Tillie held back for a second. “But this cloak…all of my armaments—they belong to my family.”

  “We won’t violate your codex or honor, young Miss. Your things will be well taken care of by our highly trained staff. As will you be.” He promised. “You have nothing to worry about here. You are among friends and allies.”

  “It just seems like a lot to take in.” Tillie confessed then.

  “All new things are,” the man said, while preparing the bed for its new occupant.

  “But you’ll adjust. Everyone does. That is the nature of things.”

  “I know. I mean, I don’t even know you people, but you seem so…nice?”

  The attendant smiled some more.

  “It’s the shock of it all. All magical familiars experience the same thing—young or old. That’s part of the charm of the Resistance and the Underground movement.”

  Tillie caught on in that moment. “So what you’re telling me is that you’re old-fashioned?” She ventured
with a knowing smile. “In that case, you sound like my grandfather before he passed on. Boy, did he have stories to tell during the last days of the Great War.”

  “You mean the Pre-War days? A lot of the old-timers have something to say about it. Including Felix himself.”

  “I would be interested in hearing some of his views on the subject. Could you tell me?”

  “Maybe tomorrow morning when I come and wake you up.” The attendant deferred politely, finishing up his preparations.

  “I will bid you good night then. Sleep well.” He said, placing the room keys on the table next to the door. Then he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

  Tillie waited another minute before she rushed over and locked the door in front of her with a satisfying clicking noise. The last thing she wanted was a few unwelcome surprises during the night and she had a bellyful of them lately since Old New York came under siege by the armies of the Regency Council during the day—forcing her mother to take action while she was left home alone. Of course, that didn’t last either as the streets next to her old apartment high rise became a battle zone and the teen decided it wasn’t safe to be home alone.

  After an hour or two of dodging fire and evading patrols, Tillie found herself trapped and outnumbered in the Upper West Side and nobody was coming to rescue her.

  So she ran.

  Right into Charlie’s arms. And from there?

  Here. In a hotel room made especially for her. And those like her.

  Turning around slowly, the young girl took in her surroundings and felt alone in the space of a few seconds. This wasn’t her life at all. She wasn’t used to being on the run—fearing for her life.

  But here she was…

  On the run. In the company of strangers.

  And all they offered her was peace of mind, sanctuary, and this impossibly looking soft bed.

  Tillie went over to it—running a hand over the bed sheets, the covering, and finally a hand made quilt that made the thing look like one of her old princess stories that she loved reading about growing up.

  Two bed pillows, two more throw pillows—this made her old bed at home look positively bland by comparison.

  Removing her heavy cloak, she placed it over the chair next to the night stand and stood there—naked to the world in general—feeling like her bell bottomed pants, her belt, weapons belt, harness, her witch’s training shirt (with the Academy logo stitched on the left breast), and the green collar of an adapt wrapped around her throat—were nothing compared to the luxurious feeling of a bed after a long hard day’s work.

  Or when you running for your life—whichever came first.

  Tillie sat down for a second, the bed mattress giving way just a bit under her weight. Then she ran her hands along the soft cotton sheet and then decided to throw caution to the wind and lie down.

  Just like that.

  Tillie lay there, somewhat spread-eagled, and stared up at the bare ceiling—letting her mind drift aimlessly while she did it. But her aching feet were telling her another story, so she sat up and started removing her custom made boots and the feeling and sensation of freedom made her whole body tingle and surge with a fresh sense of renewed energy.

  “Mercy me,” the girl whispered. “What a day. What a day…”

  And that left her to wonder what tomorrow would bring as she sat there in with her dirty socks on, then she reached down and took those off and felt the cool air rush over her hot and tortured skin.

  New aches and pain returned and the girl realized that she might have blisters on her heels to show for it. Checking her feet, she found a couple, but none that would pose a real problem.

  A simple healing spell would fix that right up in the morning. But for now…?

  A much needed shower and some sleep.

  Anything to chase away the feelings of entrapment, torture, and nightmares that had come from being a witch in this day and age.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Reconnaissance Mission

  The woman in question managed to evade most of the patrols in the lower half of Lower Tam before she came across the Witch’s Guild for Old New York.

  And along the way, she couldn’t help but think about the daughter she had to leave behind when things got too hot to handle. Not since she received that encrypted comm burst over her personal audio link. There was nothing she could do about that.

  It was a distress signal sent by the Guild for all witches and other magical folk to come to the aid of the High Sorcerer in the defense of the realm.

  But when she finally arrived…?

  It had been closer to midnight or one in the morning when all was pretty much quiet and there wasn’t so much as a solitary soul creeping about after dark.

  Not since the mercenary armies of the Regency Council’s Third Watch overtook the city in shocking fashion.

  From the hidden tree shrubbery across from the parking lot to the building complex itself, Alicia Gunderson visually inspected every possible route in and out of the building and everything in between.

  Now was not the time to become complacent or sloppy. Not when she had to return home and check on her daughter.

  Just as she was about to step out of her makeshift cover, a squad of soldiers appeared out of nowhere, along with a Brindle-class Strike Carrier which housed the latest in mechanized hover control bots and enforcer units.

  Ducking behind the hedge, the woman engaged her portable night vision specs—knowing that any use of her magic would set off everything within a square mile of the Witch’s Guild and scanned the area.

  Three guards were with the strike carrier and the payload bay doors were sealed. No evidence of movement from within—which was a good thing for her.

  She did not want to deal with an army of Gen Ones. Not if she could help it. She would rather get this job done by stealth and by skill—than brute force.

  So she waited until the group moved on from their position and disappeared behind the fence line in back of her. Alicia adjusted her cloak a bit to help the concealment process, but she knew that she was operating on borrowed time and had few options left open to her.

  Another two minutes passed before she felt safe enough to emerge from her “hole” and she darted across the semi-empty parking lot that still had a few parked ground cars in it and ran up to the door—just as a couple of powerful search lights pierced the darkness overhead.

  The woman froze in her tracks—ducking into the shadows of the massive pillar itself—as the search beams cased the lot and kept rotating in a synchronized movement.

  Alicia held absolutely still, her cloak wrapped around her body—blending in with the darkness—and waited for everything to pass. If there was anything she taught her daughter of sixteen years, it was the value of patience and sometimes subterfuge.

  The enemy may be many in legion, but the witches and sorcerers of the Witch’s Guild were no pushovers. They had been preparing for this moment for a long time—since the Pre-War days—once it had become apparent that all magical kinsfolk were put on notice that their days in this country were numbered.

  The search beams terminated at the other end of the parking lot, but Alicia did not move one inch from her hiding spot for at least five more minutes. If she knew anything about the Regency Council’s tactics, this was the first trick that they would play and then a few others—just to frighten and flush out any potential stragglers in their midst.

  Alicia considered herself a pro and she did not make mistakes when it came to her job as one of the Witch’s Guild coveted High Witches.

  So she waited.

  And waited.

  Then waited some more.

  Taking in her surroundings, making sure that she wasn’t caught out in the open, no trace of her appearance had tipped off the hounds and all the electronic scanners of the Third Watch armies.

  The woman relaxed just a fraction of a second when she heard electronic voices on high gain come into her vicinity.

  “Radi
o check, confirmed. Unit 7. Unit 9. In position. Squad 43 on standby. Area appears deserted. What we thought was a thermal trace might have been a wild animal. But we are checking to be sure.”

  Alicia’s shoulders slumped a bit.

  Shit. There goes that element of surprise.

  But she didn’t want to give away her position. Not unless she had to. And only if she had no choice.

  Then a couple soldiers came into her immediate view and she turned off her night vision goggles. If anyone looked in her general direction, the gig would be up and she would have to fight it out to the last man.

  So she kept things cool and collected, while the three man team ambled into her general vicinity with their guns at the ready and sweeping the yard with their scanners.

  “Thermal signature is unstable.” One of them reported out into the open. “Dissipating quickly.”

  “Identity?”

  “Unknown at the moment. Our scanners didn’t pick up any magical aura on it. But we know it entered the vicinity of this building in the last six and a half minutes.”

  Alicia was impressed. So they were tracking her. From a distance.

  But since she moved faster than the scanners could lock on, they got a distorted reading which was a good thing for her.

  Now she waited for an opportune time to perform a magic trick of her own.

  Both the soldiers turned their backs to her in that second and she flicked out a hand and whispered a magical incantation which flared briefly in the night and a small pack of rats started scurrying out from the other side of the loaded trash dumpster behind the building.

  And ran across the parking lot in full view of the soldiers themselves.

  “There!” One of the soldiers called out in triumph. “I got a reading! Multiple readings!”

  The trio gave chase to the rats as the woman rose from her chosen hiding place and raced for the door. Another magical incantation picked the lock and she opened it quickly and then bolted inside, shutting the door as she went.

  Then locked it again.

  Instead of waiting for the inevitable, Alicia made for one of the empty study rooms on the first floor of the Witch’s Guild and ducked inside it—shutting that door in the process.