Or perhaps it was her refreshing directness. "Excuse me, you old mummy." Faye raised her voice. "That's my gizmo you're pawin' over. My Grandpa died for it, and I came a long way to find out why." Browning and Pershing ceased speaking immediately. "Thatmore like it."
"My apologies," the General whispered. "Your grandfather was a very good man, and you have my condolences. We are members of the Grimnoir Society, an organization that stands against the darkest magics."
"He was once a member and helped in one of our gravest missions," Browning said. "This item you brought here is a part of the most destructive weapon ever created by the hand of man, and in the summer of 1908, we stopped it from being fired on the United States. Thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, would have perished."
"And now if you'll let the grownups finish talking, we've got to figure out how to keep the evilest bastard in the world from putting it back together and killing us all," Lance finished. "So shush." Western Colorado "So, you're a secret organization that protects Actives…" Sullivan took a long drag from the second cigarette he'd bummed off of Garrett. The train was rolling into the sunset, and the dining car only had a few other people in it, including a young couple, a businessman, an old woman, and the bored waiter loafing at the far side of the cabin. Nobody was close enough to listen in. "And fights evil magic?"
"Basically, yes."
"Define evil."
"It's pretty self-explanatory," Garrett exclaimed.
"Dan, one man's evil is another man's politics." Sullivan had once gone to prison for doing what he knew to be the right thing, and that wasn't too long after fighting in a war where both sides thought of themselves as the good guys, but that didn't stop them from slaughtering each other by the thousands with every tool at hand.
"I can't define evil, but I sure as hell know when I see it," Heinrich said.
Sullivan grunted in affirmation. "And I thought you said Dan was the one that was good with words."
"We do whatever it takes to stop those who would use magic to enslave others. On the other hand, we also fight those who would punish all magicals for the actions of a few. There are powerful Actives who would like to put the entire world under their boot. They see themselves as the logical end of the eugenicist's argument, the answer to Darwin's theory. On the other side are the normals who are so scared of magic that they would love nothing more than to just stamp us out of existence."
Sullivan had smoked the fag down to nothing, and stubbed it out in the ashtray. If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. "So if it's so good, why's it secret?"
"Those of us that join the Society must fight in the shadows. There are forces at work, whole nations, and things even bigger than nations that would have us fail. They'd hunt us down, and if they couldn't destroy us, they'd kill everyone we love."
Sullivan pondered Dan's last few words. He seemed to be telling the truth, or at least he believed he was. "Does the U.S. government know about you?"
"Parts of it…" Garrett said hesitantly, glancing around the room. "It's complicated."
"I'm an American first, Active second," Sullivan growled. Despite it being run by a bunch of idiots, Sullivan loved his country, and his loyalty ran deep. His older brother, Matt, had often made fun of him for it, but Sullivan was at heart a patriotic man.
"There are Grimnoir in every country. We'd never ask any of them to do anything that goes against conscience. Listen, I can't tell you too much. I've been asked to make you an offer. Your talents would be invaluable. But if you turn us down, the less you know, the better off you are. You join us and then I can answer all your questions."
"What's in it for me?" Sullivan asked, expecting the usual answers for when someone was trying to hire out some muscle. Cash, booze, dames…
Daniel cleared his throat and leaned forward, looking him square in the eye. "You get to learn more about magic than you ever thought possible and you get to make a difference."
That wasn't the answer he was expecting. That answer felt good, but it also made him suspicious. He checked his head again, but unless Garrett was the best Mouth ever, he could sense no intrusion. But life had bit him too many times to not be apprehensive. "Who runs the show?"
"What?" Heinrich gave a sardonic laugh. "So maybe when you take that bit of intelligence back to J. Edgar Hoover, all will be forgiven?"
That was a sore spot. "Screw you, Fade."
"So, you're ashamed that you hunted down your own kind? Aren't you?"
Sullivan raised his voice slightly. "I agreed to help the BI, but I only went after murderers. That was the deal."
"Like Delilah Jones?" Heinrich spat.
It was being lied to about Delilah that had sent Sullivan down this path to begin with. "They told me she was a cold-blooded killer. I bought it. How is she?"
"Alive. Which is more than I can say than if you'd succeeded. All she had done was defend herself from the men that had already shot her father to bits. Good work there. If we had not come to save her, she'd be dead by now, picked out of the jail cell you put her in for the convenience of the Imperium." Heinrich's face was getting red. "And you question our honor? Our judgment? I think not, Heavy."
Something he'd said had set the young German off. Maybe Sullivan had finally met somebody as distrusting as he was. "Easy, Heinrich," Garrett cautioned. "I can't answer that yet, Jake. You must understand."
Damn it. He was tired of being lied to, sick of being kept in the dark by everyone around him. His patience was done.
Sullivan lurched out of the booth, hands on the table to hold himself steady. His body ached beyond comprehension and he was in a foul mood. "I'm not taking a job if I can't even know who I'm working for. So I'll just be getting off at the next town. Thanks for the dinner and the duds, but I consider them payback for the ones I wrecked falling off that blimp."
Garrett shook his head sadly. "Sorry to hear that, pal. I'd say that this was a wasted trip, but we did kill an Iron Guard, don't get to do that every day… What are you going to do about the BI?"
"We'll work something out…" Sullivan muttered, dreading the thought of Rockville. He'd need to come up with a story that would satisfy Hoover as to why he'd gone to visit Torrio and then managed to destroy an entire hotel. Easy as pie. "So long, boys. Thanks for helping me ice that Jap… And tell Delilah I'm real sorry."
"So long, Heavy," Heinrich said. "I knew this was a mistake from the-" He froze, looking down at his fingers. Garrett suddenly flinched and curled his hand into a fist.
Sullivan paused, noticing that both men were looking at their rings. Heinrich suddenly rose and swept all of the dishes and cups onto the floor, spilling coffee across the linoleum. The other patrons startled, and the old lady glared at them disapprovingly.
Daniel jumped into the aisle and shouted. "Attention passengers, everyone needs to go back to their cabins, right now. This is not a big deal, and you will remember being asked to move by the conductor." The other passengers got up and headed vacantly for the exits. Sullivan felt the words slamming around inside his skull. Garrett's Power was staggering, and he felt a strong urge to walk right out, but he focused on a spot on the wall until the feeling subsided.
"Thank you, everyone. Have a pleasant evening." Garrett made eye contact with Sullivan as he passed, as if surprised to see him sticking around. "Hey, waiter! Lock the doors and get out. You need a ten-minute smoke break."
"Right away, sir!" The waiter complied without question. There had been no finesse there, just the Power of suggestion wielded like a club. Garrett may have looked like a balding, nebbishy librarian, but he was one of the strongest Actives Sullivan had yet encountered.
Heinrich grabbed the saltshaker, unscrewed the lid, and poured it onto their hastily cleared table. He stuck his finger into the pile and stirred, until he'd made a circle four inches across. "Don't just stand there, Heavy. Fetch me a glass of water."