Authors: Alex Ziebart
Todd rolled his eyes. “If the DNR wants to tell me I can’t shoot something on my own land, they can fight me about it.”
“Probably not a good idea to pick a fight with the guy carrying a rifle. Though I’d guess they have their own rifles.”
“They do.”
Kristen glanced toward him; he’d said those words a little too knowingly. “You have experience with that?”
“Want to regulate what happens on public land? Go ahead. Want to stop someone from doing something on their own land? Shouldn't have sold the land in the first place. If a man owns land, he should have every expectation of being able to live off of it.”
“Sounds like there's a story there.”
“Not one I need to tell.”
“Roger that.” Kristen didn't press, turning her full attention to traffic. She turned onto Mason Street amidst a cacophony of horns—every soul in Milwaukee seemed to forget how intersections worked when they went downtown—and drove west to the Temple Financial building.
As the second tallest building in Milwaukee, only the height of Temple Financial made it stand out. Built when brutalist architecture was all the rage, the building was little more than a dull, concrete rectangle in the skyline. Though it did nothing to stir the heart, Kristen supposed it could withstand a nuclear blast.
Turning down a side street, she circled behind the building and pulled into the ramp leading down to the underground parking structure. She stopped alongside the ticketing machine and rolled down the window. The sudden blast of hot summer air felt like she'd stuck her face into an oven. Leaning out, she reached for the big red button to claim a ticket. She couldn’t reach. With a low noise of irritation, she popped her door open and slid out like a snake. She claimed her ticket by snatching it from the machine and jumped back into the car.
Todd laughed at her struggle. “Strong enough to lift a car. Too short to push a button.”
“We can't all be Paul Bunyan, big guy.”
They spiraled down the dimly lit structure for what felt like an eternity before finding a place to park. Kristen pocketed her keys and hopped out of the car. She waited for Todd to follow. “Still not sure about this?”
Their voices echoed through the garage.
“If it's a trap, I'm pretty sure I can get away.” Todd met her eyes. “And I hope you won't try to follow me.”
“Follow you? Maybe. Catch you? Probably not.” She shrugged. “Teleport beats running fast.”
Todd glared down at her. “Is this the place to talk about that?” he whispered.
Kristen winced; he was right. Being around him—around another person like her—had set her at ease. The phrase
loose lips sink ships
came to mind. She swept her gaze over her immediate surroundings and was relieved to see no one nearby. Saturday wasn’t a big business day, and the time wasn’t right for employees to be coming or going en masse. She gestured toward the distant elevator with a lean of her head. “Let’s go.”
Todd fell into lockstep beside her and she knew matching her speed must have been a struggle for him. She recalled boyfriends from years prior: the tall ones always found it hard to avoid leaving her behind. Legs that long simply couldn’t go that slowly without stumbling over themselves. She walked faster, trying to find a friendly middleground.
Once in the elevator, Kristen mashed the button for the ground floor. Both settled against the elevator’s back wall. The elevator lurched upward. Her gut churned. For the first time, she considered what might be about to happen. Michael. Michael wasn’t a particularly imposing name. Though Kristen didn’t exactly suggest superpowered badass, and Todd didn’t scream teleportation.
I wish I knew his last name. Maybe it’s Blood or Black or Killdead or Murderface.
Kristen looked over at Todd. His blank stoicism held fast. She thought his eyes were a little tighter than usual at the corners, but if they were, it was only a little—easily imagined.
“What do you think is going to happen in there?”
“That depends. How much of what I told you did you tell them?”
“Everything.”
Todd's face hardened further. The man became like stone. “I owe you a lot. I don't know what they'll have to say, but I hope it's good. Otherwise, you'll owe me instead.”
Not creepy at all.
The elevator slowed to a stop. Its doors opened with a well-maintained smoothness, revealing Temple Financial's pristine white lobby in all its blinding glory. Kristen stopped to let her eyes adjust before leaving the elevator. The hall was empty but for two people: a secretary at an imposing desk and a woman in a slate grey pantsuit standing with her back to them. The secretary peered around her and smiled. “Welcome to Temple Financial. Can I help you?”
The other woman glanced back. Kristen squinted. She seemed familiar. Then the woman turned to face them and waved the secretary away. “These are the two I've been waiting for. I'll take care of it. Can you call the elevator down for me?”
“Sure thing, Miss Jaeger.” The secretary chirped.
“Jane?” Kristen asked, no shortage of confusion in her voice. “Jaeger?”
“It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” Jane extended a hand. Kristen shook it on dumbfounded instinct. Jane put her other hand on her shoulder, pivoting their group smoothly down an adjacent hallway. “Right this way.”
Jane led them into a hall that consisted of nothing but pristinely polished elevators. Summoned by the secretary, one slid open the moment they arrived. They stepped in, and when the doors closed, Jane blew out a breath. “Sorry about that. The receptionist is a short-notice replacement. Isn't exactly in the loop.”
“I thought your name was Miller.”
“That depends entirely upon who I'm talking to.”
“Not exactly fair, is it?” Todd rumbled. “You know our names. We don’t know yours.”
“Miller is as close to my real name as you can get. Any questions before this ride’s over? By the way, Todd, thanks for coming.”
He frowned. “What’s this all about? Why am I here?”
Kristen’s gaze snapped to Jane. She wanted to know, too. Jane kept her eyes forward, unbuttoning her jacket. “Transparency. No—for honesty’s sake, let’s not say transparency. Michael wants to change the opacity of the situation. There are people in danger. Potentially a lot of people. This city needs your help and you should understand a little more about the world we live in before you commit.”
Todd looked down his nose at Jane over Kristen's head. “You're asking me for help?”
Jane turned to meet his gaze. “No. We're asking Kristen. But you can come, too.”
A digital display above the elevator door ticked over to thirteen. The doors slid open to reveal a cubicle farm lit only by the sunlight through the windows; the lights were off, as were the computer screens. Kristen took a step out, searching for any sign of life. Empty. A part of her was disappointed; she'd have liked to have seen people hard at work. The entire ordeal that had been playing out for the last week had started on that very floor. She looked toward the window she'd smashed through and found they’d already repaired it. So many people must have been wondering if Lady Superior could fly.
Not Lady Superior, she corrected herself. That wasn't her name. Not yet, and certainly not to the general public. She was still Maiden Milwaukee. Could Maiden Milwaukee fly? No. She could rappel from a rooftop after brief instruction from Jane, timed just right to avoid being spotted by police helicopters. She'd thought those who'd taken the thirteenth floor were terrorists. That's what Jane told her, anyway. At the time, it was plausible. Kristen could recall clearly the news coverage of September 11; she was only twelve years old—maybe thirteen—and hadn't ever heard of anything like it, or the world before it. Even as she thought it, she knew it was a cliché. But it was true. Everyone said the world changed that day and she accepted it as true. She was too young to have seen the world before it. She only knew the world that followed. Lost jobs. War. Death. Fear. Whether that fear was real or fabricated, she didn’t know. It didn’t make a difference. Whichever way it came about, it was there.
She wondered if that was why she so readily leapt to do what Jane asked. It was about lives. It was about preventing a disaster. If she had a say in it, there’d be no more fathers risking death in Iraq to afford groceries for their families.
Yes, she decided. It would have been very nice to see people at work. That dark, lifeless room suggested she’d failed. She knew she hadn’t, but couldn’t shake the feeling.
“This isn't our stop,” Jane called out.
Kristen whirled to look at her, surprised to hear a voice. She’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. How long had she been lost in her thoughts? Couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. “This is thirteen. You said thirteen.”
“Let's call this Thirteen A. We're going to Thirteen B.”
Though confused, Kristen got back into the elevator. Jane punched thirteen into the console. The doors closed. A second later, they opened again. “Welcome to Thirteen B.”
Though the elevator hadn’t moved, the scene beyond the doors changed completely. The lights were on. There were people at work. Some weaved among the cubicles, others were heads-down and hands-on. Kristen’s gaze traveled slowly across the room. Eventually, the windows drew her attention. The blinds were open, but she didn’t see the Milwaukee skyline. Instead, a tumultuous sea of violet threaded with serpentine ribbons of white greeted her. There was a depth to it. There was
something
behind the glass. Whatever it was, it went on forever—like seeing the ocean through diving goggles.
Behind her, Todd gasped. “My god. Where are we?”
“We don’t honestly know.” Jane stepped up beside Kristen. “One of life’s little mysteries.”
Kristen tore her eyes from the windows to look at Jane again. “This is where the changelings wanted to be. Not Thirteen A. They wanted Thirteen B.”
“We don’t know that for sure, but it’s a reasonable assumption. I seriously doubt the changelings have any interest in accountants.” Jane motioned for Todd and Kristen to follow. “Right this way.”
Jane moved around the outside walls of the cubicle farm, directly alongside the windows. Kristen followed close behind, though her eyes stared into the void beyond the glass. In the glass, she saw her reflection—and the reflection of those behind her. Their eyes, too, faced the windows. She realized they weren’t looking at the void, though. As she passed, every set of eyes swiveled to follow. Every man and woman in Thirteen B knew exactly who she was.
Jane stopped outside the door of a corner office. A plaque beside the door read MICHAEL GRUBER.
Gruber? I guess that could be evil.
Jane ushered them inside. Michael Gruber leaned back from his desk, an executive monstrosity of dark oak, to assess the new arrivals. Kristen assessed him, too. He was balding and heavy, and the way he leaned back put his beer gut on display. He wore glasses and a business suit minus the jacket, which dangled from a coat rack in the corner. His tie was a stripe of black dividing an immaculate white shirt. Windows behind Michael framed him in violet. As Kristen looked at him, she realized he wasn't bathed in the light. The sea of purple was bright, almost neon, and it should have cast its glow on everything. It didn't. The only light sources were from the overhead fluorescents. Lights that required electricity. How did they get electricity in a void?
Nothing about it made any sense.
Michael suddenly jerked into a standing position. He circled around his desk to extend a hand. “Where are my manners? It's an honor to finally meet you in person, Miss Anderson.”
Kristen shook his hand, saying nothing. He turned to Todd, hand out. “And a pleasure to meet you, Mister Schumacher. Thank you for coming today.”
Todd frowned down at the man. “Why are we here?”
“Straight to the point.” Michael clapped Todd on the shoulder. He had to swing up. “I like that. The two of you are here because your city needs you.”
Kristen spoke first, suddenly eager. “What happened? Is this about the ring?”
Michael returned to his desk, motioning everyone to take a seat. Kristen did so, then Todd. Jane took a standing position beside the desk instead. Kristen thought she looked like a bodyguard; stiff posture, pantsuit, and a bulge beneath her arm that suggested a shoulder holster. Michael folded his hands on the desk. “There's nothing I hate more than working on a Saturday. This has been one hell of a summer, so it can't be helped, but that doesn't mean I don't hate it. That means I'm short on patience today. Before we start, I'm going to ask you a simple question. It's going to save us a lot of time. Miss Anderson, do you believe?”
“Believe what?”
“That you are what you are and you can do what you do. That there are things in this world unknown to the common people. That there are threats that have been hidden for thousands of years. That what I say in this office, no matter how outlandish, is true.”
Kristen nodded once. “I believe. That last part sounds shady, but the rest of it? I've seen enough to believe.”
Michael looked to Todd, but didn't repeat his question. Todd nodded. Michael clapped his hands on the desk. “Good. Next question. Miss Anderson, has Jane told you who we really are?”
“Just call me Kristen, please. Miss Anderson sounds awkward. No, she hasn't. She said you wouldn't let her.”
Michael looked at Jane. “Why don’t you tell her?”
She eyed him. “I have to do it?”
“Sure. I hate saying it. It sounds ridiculous.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “We’re part of an organization you’d know best as the Knights Templar.”
Kristen squinted with one eye and peered at Jane, trying to read her face. It must have been a joke. “The Knights Templar?”
Michael motioned for Jane to continue. She obliged. “Brace yourself, Kris. I’m going to get boring again. The Knights Templar were an order of knights based out of the Temple of Solomon, hence the name. Unless you took the time to study the Middle Ages or the Crusades, you wouldn't know their other job. They were the largest pan-European banking organization of the time. Money lending, debt collecting, property management, all of that. Over time, they came into permanent possession of a great deal of land, seized to repay debts. Even kings used Templar resources to extend themselves beyond their means. That’s what caused the downfall of the order. King Philip the Fourth of France arrested and executed the Knights Templar en masse in 1307. By 1312, he convinced Pope Clement the Fifth to officially disband the order. The banking services of the Templar Order evaporated, and with that, so went Europe's financial stability.