Page 20 of Concluded (The Bureau #13)

“No.” Bureau agents liked to gossip, so Achilles had heard plenty of stories about Grimes and Tenrael, but didn’t know which—if any—were accurate.

New recruits tended to be weirded out by the two of them, not to mention by the nature of their relationship: Tenrael referred to Grimes as his master and preferred to kneel at his feet when possible.

But to Achilles, the devotion between the two of them had always been obvious, and he figured that if Tenrael and Grimes were comfortable with their bond and its power arrangement, then the hows and whys of it were nobody else’s damn business.

“When my master found me, I was also undergoing great difficulties. I’m very old, Agent Spanos, and I have endured many things, but those years were…

.” Tenrael swallowed. But then Grimes murmured something to him that Achilles didn’t catch, and Tenrael smiled and continued.

“Those years were worth it for the joy I have experienced since then. But the point I wished to make is that I was changed by the things that happened to me. I am no longer the same being I was before. But this can be a good thing, yes?”

Psychological counseling from a demon—that was a new thing for Achilles. And he wasn’t at all confident that he’d been improved by any recent events. However, he also didn’t want to argue the point, so he simply shrugged. “Maybe.”

That seemed to satisfy Tenrael, who faced forward again. But then Dee cleared his throat. “Um, excuse me? I don’t know if I’m being rude by asking this, but what are you?”

Tenrael chuckled. “I am a demon.”

After a few moments of speechless gaping, Dee shook his head rapidly. “I’m sorry, but did you say you’re?—”

“A demon. Yes.”

“But…. I thought…. Aren’t demons, uh, evil?”

Jesus. “Aren’t humans?” Achilles snapped. “Ashley Dunn, for instance—is she a demon?”

“No, but?—”

“Don’t be a bigot. Judge a person by what they do, not whether they have horns or fangs.”

Under other circumstances, Achilles might have been more patient with Dee.

When Achilles had first joined the Bureau, he’d had many of those same biases; most new agents did, at least if they were human.

But in Dee’s case, he’d experienced human malevolence with his own eyes, and had been personally helped by coyote shifters. He should know better.

And also Achilles was tired and aching and, if he was perfectly frank with himself, scared shitless by the future. Patience wasn’t currently on his agenda.

But napping was, so he closed his eyes and did his best to tune out the world.

* * *

Achilles startled awake when the SUV came to a halt.

The sun was high overhead, so they had likely been on the road for only a few hours.

Although they were still in the middle of the desert, this landscape was different.

Flatter, although with some peaks and mesas in the distance, and devoid of tall plants.

Grimes had parked in a gravel lot flanked by a pair of odd-looking buildings made of rounded stones.

The buildings were each the size of a large house but irregularly shaped, with small windows placed seemingly at random.

There were also several dozen colorful banners affixed to each of the houses.

The banners contained irregular patterns of squiggles.

“What is this place?” he asked apprehensively.

Grimes opened the driver’s door. “Refuge.”

Whatever that meant.

Achilles dutifully got out of the car and limped after Grimes and Tenrael, Dee trailing behind him.

When they neared the building on the right, a section of stones slid to the side, revealing an opening that took them into a dark, narrow hallway.

Tenrael’s wings brushed against the rock walls on both sides.

If Achilles’ feet hadn’t been hurting so badly, he might have been slightly claustrophobic, but as it was, he mostly concentrated on forward momentum.

They took a sudden right and were in a large, sunlit room with tables and chairs in the center and a half-dozen simple beds along the walls. There was also a small kitchenette and an enormous television.

Oh, and an alien.

Achilles’ life was weird enough that the sight of the extraterrestrial made him sigh with relief. He’d met these people once before and knew they could be trusted.

A couple of decades ago, when humans first started encountering this species, they called them orcs.

They did bear a certain resemblance to the Tolkien creatures and, due to a cultural misunderstanding, had eaten several humans.

Eventually, however, in a mission involving Con Becker and Isaac Molina, the orcs’ true identities had been discovered: they were refugees from another planet who gained knowledge by consuming others.

They’d simply been trying to assimilate to their new home.

Luckily the Bureau was able to work with them to find less lethal ways of learning, and since then their presence had been benign.

“What the hell?” breathed Dee, who really ought to be getting used to this sort of thing by now.

Achilles shot him a glare. “I’ll explain later. But they’re friends, okay?”

Dee’s nod was uncertain, but he held his tongue.

Perhaps for the sake of her guests, this alien had chosen to wear human clothing: a pair of black capri leggings and a loose emerald-hued shirt. No shoes, however; she probably couldn’t, due to the large claws on her toes. Her smile revealed several rows of very sharp teeth.

“Welcome,” she said, clawed hands held upright with the palms facing her.

That was her people’s first step when greeting someone, and Grimes, Tenrael, and Achilles mirrored her.

As did Dee, albeit somewhat belatedly. She came forward for the next step, which involved exchanging a small cheek lick.

Dee almost balked at that, but Achilles gave him a subtle poke and Dee went along with the program.

When you thought about it, licking was only a small step away from cheek kissing, and lots of humans did that.

Formalities over, their hostess started a conversation with Tenrael in her language, which he apparently spoke well. That wasn’t a huge surprise—languages were one of his specialties—but it was interesting to see that his talents extended to non-Earth tongues as well.

While they chatted, Grimes led Achilles and Dee to a cluster of armchairs and loveseats near the kitchenette. Achilles was grateful to get off his feet, and even more thankful when Grimes brought him a glass of water.

Dee couldn’t hold back any longer. “Who is that? And where are we?”

“We have more pressing matters to discuss,” said Grimes. Then he relented slightly. “Our hosts are immigrants from a distant planet. Their home was destroyed, and they?—”

“Aliens?” Dee hissed.

Achilles, who was next to him, gave a kick. Which hurt his already-sore foot but also shut Dee up.

Grimes looked pained, like a schoolteacher dealing with naughty students.

“There are only a few hundred of them, living in small settlements in several countries. They mostly want to keep to themselves and preserve what they can of their culture. This particular group was given special license to homestead on tribal land in exchange for sharing some of the technologies they brought with them. I guess the tribal leaders are working with the immigrants to find more efficient methods of storing energy and generating water.”

That was a long speech from Grimes, who rarely gave them. Quite a bit of what he said was news to Achilles and would have been interesting to explore if other matters weren’t more important. But he did have a question. “So what’s this place?”

“Their home. They live primarily underground, but they keep this space for visitors from the tribe. And now they’re letting us use it. Spanos, you can stay here until you’re fully recovered. Now tell me what the hell happened. You start, Martell.”

Dee had clearly never done this before; his account tended to ramble and stray, and Grimes had to ask a lot of questions.

The farther that Dee got into the story, the grimmer the chief looked.

Tenrael quietly joined them midway through—the alien had left the room by then—and knelt beside Grimes, expression stony.

Finally, Dee got to the point where Achilles showed up—in chains—and Grimes held up a hand to stop him. “Spanos, can you please speak now?”

“Sure.” He began with showing up at Dee’s place in Portland and discovering him missing, explained how Henry and Becker had helped him track Dee, and then described his initial encounter with Dunn, when she’d promptly sent him packing.

Grimes’ scowl had grown even deeper. “She could manipulate the will of a Bureau agent so easily?”

“Well, mine, yeah. Maybe if someone stronger had faced her?—”

“You’re as strong as any agent.”

Achilles paused at the unexpected and unsolicited praise. He hadn’t thought that the chief considered him especially useful. “Anyway, she didn’t exactly manipulate my will. I mean, I wanted to leave. I’d already tried to quit, remember? She just gave me an extra push.”

“But you returned to her.”

“When I realized what she’d done, yeah.” Achilles considered for a moment. “I was really pissed off at being manipulated. And really concerned about what was going on. I shouldn’t have gone by myself, but….”

“But you knew that we’re shorthanded and you felt the need to act quickly.”

Once again, Achilles paused. This was empathy, coming from Charles Grimes. Not that Grimes was an asshole, but he wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely type. Hell, Tenrael was generally better at relating emotionally to agents than Grimes was, and wasn’t that weird.

The next part of the story was hard to tell. “Anyway, I did go back. And she… zapped me. Just sort of wiggled her fingers and I was in so much pain I couldn’t even scream.”

Tenrael spoke for the first time in a while. “A similar thing happened to agents Clark and Gale last year.”

“Yeah? And did they get transported to some type of terrifying liminal space? ’Cause that’s what happened next.”

Grimes paled. Which was quite a feat, considering how white his complexion normally was. His breathing grew harsh. “Liminal space? Explain,” he barked.

So Achilles did, in as much detail as possible, even though he would have preferred not to think about it at all.

Grimes listened, his lips pressed so thin it must have hurt.

Achilles didn’t understand why this particular part of the tale upset the chief so much, but he continued.

He didn’t gloss over Dee’s initial acquiescence with the torture, but he also made sure to describe how Dee had facilitated his escape, likely putting himself in grave danger.

There was heavy silence. Achilles was exhausted; Dee was hunched over as if expecting a blow. Grimes and Tenrael stared at each other silently, as if they could communicate telepathically. For all that Achilles knew, maybe they could.

Then Grimes abruptly stood. “I need to talk to some people. Both of you stay put. Get some rest. There’s food over there.” He pointed at the kitchenette.

He and Tenrael started to leave, but Dee surprised them all by jumping up and planting himself in front of them.

“Hang on. All of this started because you guys were so eager to get your hands on me. And now you’ve got me, but you’re acting like I’m barely an afterthought, and you won’t let me ask any questions. ”

“Bigger fish to fry,” Grimes said through clenched teeth.

Dee threw up his hands. “I get it! End of the world as we know it. And I fucked up big time. But Jesus, I can grant wishes , and I don’t know why, and there are demons and aliens and werewolves, and I don’t understand….” His voice tapered off and he covered his face with his hands.

It was possible that Grimes’ expression softened an infinitesimal amount. “I know why you can grant wishes. One of my agents has been doing research, and she’s reasonably certain she knows what you are.”

Exhaustion forgotten, Achilles leaned forward. This should be interesting.

Dee uncovered his face and stared at Grimes. His expression was a study in mixed emotions: hope, fear, anxiety, eagerness. “What am I?” he whispered.

Grimes shrugged as if it weren’t particularly important. “She’s pretty sure you’re a genie.”