Half-Off Ragnarok
Page 33
Shelby glanced at Sarah, frowning. “Is this some kind of trick?” she asked. “She’s not acting like a normal Johrlac.”
“That’s because she’s not a normal Johrlac. She’s my cousin, and she’s not well. She was injured saving my sister’s life. She’s here in Columbus to recover.” I shook my head. “She’s not a danger. Unlike you.”
“Me?” Shelby actually looked shocked. “What did I do?”
“You came into my house and drew a gun on my cousin. I find that pretty damn dangerous.”
“You’re the one who had a gun hidden in your trouser leg!”
“Shoulder holsters mess up the line of the shirts I’m supposed to wear to work.”
Shelby blinked. Blinked again. And then, apparently against her will, she snorted in amusement. “Right,” she said. “Fashion. That’s what ought to be the concern here. Whether or not something looks good under a tweed professor’s coat.”
“Tweed is a valid lifestyle choice,” I shot back. “Now please answer my question: who are you?”
“My name is Shelby Tanner,” she said, without inflection. I’d never heard her voice so dead. “I am a visiting naturalist from Australia.”
I stared at her in horror. There’s only one group of people I know who are that bent on destroying cryptids, even to the point of following them home. “Oh, God,” I said. “Covenant.”
I’ve mentioned the Covenant of St. George, but I haven’t explained them very well, and a little understanding is important if you want to know why having a Covenant operative in my home was such a terrifying concept.
Several hundred years ago, relations between humans and what we’d later come to call “cryptids” were . . . well, strained. The fact that all nonhuman intelligences were referred to as “monsters” may give you some idea of how bad things were. This was exacerbated by the fact that many cryptids didn’t regard eating humans as wrong. If we could eat cattle, why couldn’t the occasional meat-eating cow eat us? It was an egalitarian approach to the problem, and naturally, some people didn’t like it. The Covenant of St. George was founded to rid the world of dragons, werewolves, basilisks, and anything else that might threaten mankind’s dominion.
I can’t exactly call their original mission statement “wrong.” It’s a lot easier to be live-and-let-live about ghouls and harpies when they aren’t sneaking into your home and stealing your children in the middle of the night. The problem arose when the mission statement expanded, coming to serve as an order of execution for anything that wasn’t explicitly listed as accompanying Noah on the Ark. (Where they got a full shipping manifest for the contents of a boat which may or may not have actually existed is anybody’s guess.)
The Covenant of St. George never tried to understand the things it killed, and the modern Covenant still doesn’t make the effort. They slaughter whatever they judge unnatural, and leave history littered with the bodies of those who crossed them. If it seems like there’s a little resentment there, it’s because I’m descended from two good Covenant families—the Healys, who were among the best assassins in a society filled with killers, and the Prices, whose scholarship and devotion to the cause helped move the Healys into position. Killing is in our blood. My great-great-grandparents turned their back on the cause, but they couldn’t change who they were, or who their children would grow up to be.
My sister, Verity, met a Covenant operative in New York City, and true to family form, she promptly seduced him, convinced him to abandon his holy calling, and brought him home to meet the parents. Talking to Dominic had just confirmed what we’d believed for years: the Covenant of St. George thought that the Price-Healy bloodline had died out in Buckley, Michigan, but they were more than willing to be proved wrong if the opportunity arose.
And the orders regarding our family weren’t friendly ones.
If Shelby was Covenant, I wasn’t going to have any choice about what I did next. I was going to hate it, possibly forever, but I was going to do it anyway. Family comes first. That’s the one good lesson that we took away from our time with the Covenant. Family always comes first.
Shelby blinked, expression turning quizzical. Then, to my surprise, she burst out laughing. “You—I—you really—oh, Alex.” She raised a hand to wipe her eye, and somehow turned that gesture into a full-body turn, bringing her gun around to aim at my chest. I guess saying the word “Covenant” had rendered Sarah the lesser threat. Bully for me. Face gone suddenly cold again, she demanded, “What do you know about the Covenant? Are you working for them, is that it? A double agent? Because don’t think I won’t shoot you where you stand.”
“Wait—what? One second you’re threatening my cousin for being a cryptid, and the next you’re threatening me because you think I’m with the Covenant? Don’t you think you should make up your mind before you shoot me? And if I were with the Covenant, why the hell would I be asking if you were with the Covenant?” I frowned. “You’re not with the Covenant, are you?”
“Are you mad? I’m from Australia!”
That seemed to answer everything for her. It just raised more questions for me. “What the hell does Australia have to do with anything?”
“The Covenant tried to have the entire continent declared anathema and cleansed, you moron!” Shelby was yelling now. “They’d have wiped out our ecosystem and replaced it with things they considered ‘acceptable’! Idiots. Destructive, shortsighted idiots. I can’t believe you work for them!”
“Oh, no, we don’t work for the Covenant.” Sarah’s tone was light, almost dreamy, like she was working on getting in touch with her inner kindergarten teacher. Shelby and I both whipped around to look at her. Judging by the look on Shelby’s face, she’d almost forgotten Sarah was there. I couldn’t blame her; so had I. Sarah looked down from her study of the ceiling, a beatific smile on her face. “The Covenant broke me like a hammer breaks an egg. That’s why the eggshell is cracked, and we’re putting Humpty together again. They wouldn’t have us if we wanted to go back.”
“Back?” echoed Shelby. She swung back around to me. I realized belatedly that I’d just missed my best chance at disarming her. “What does the Johrlac girl mean, ‘back’?”
“That’s because she’s not a normal Johrlac. She’s my cousin, and she’s not well. She was injured saving my sister’s life. She’s here in Columbus to recover.” I shook my head. “She’s not a danger. Unlike you.”
“Me?” Shelby actually looked shocked. “What did I do?”
“You came into my house and drew a gun on my cousin. I find that pretty damn dangerous.”
“You’re the one who had a gun hidden in your trouser leg!”
“Shoulder holsters mess up the line of the shirts I’m supposed to wear to work.”
Shelby blinked. Blinked again. And then, apparently against her will, she snorted in amusement. “Right,” she said. “Fashion. That’s what ought to be the concern here. Whether or not something looks good under a tweed professor’s coat.”
“Tweed is a valid lifestyle choice,” I shot back. “Now please answer my question: who are you?”
“My name is Shelby Tanner,” she said, without inflection. I’d never heard her voice so dead. “I am a visiting naturalist from Australia.”
I stared at her in horror. There’s only one group of people I know who are that bent on destroying cryptids, even to the point of following them home. “Oh, God,” I said. “Covenant.”
I’ve mentioned the Covenant of St. George, but I haven’t explained them very well, and a little understanding is important if you want to know why having a Covenant operative in my home was such a terrifying concept.
Several hundred years ago, relations between humans and what we’d later come to call “cryptids” were . . . well, strained. The fact that all nonhuman intelligences were referred to as “monsters” may give you some idea of how bad things were. This was exacerbated by the fact that many cryptids didn’t regard eating humans as wrong. If we could eat cattle, why couldn’t the occasional meat-eating cow eat us? It was an egalitarian approach to the problem, and naturally, some people didn’t like it. The Covenant of St. George was founded to rid the world of dragons, werewolves, basilisks, and anything else that might threaten mankind’s dominion.
I can’t exactly call their original mission statement “wrong.” It’s a lot easier to be live-and-let-live about ghouls and harpies when they aren’t sneaking into your home and stealing your children in the middle of the night. The problem arose when the mission statement expanded, coming to serve as an order of execution for anything that wasn’t explicitly listed as accompanying Noah on the Ark. (Where they got a full shipping manifest for the contents of a boat which may or may not have actually existed is anybody’s guess.)
The Covenant of St. George never tried to understand the things it killed, and the modern Covenant still doesn’t make the effort. They slaughter whatever they judge unnatural, and leave history littered with the bodies of those who crossed them. If it seems like there’s a little resentment there, it’s because I’m descended from two good Covenant families—the Healys, who were among the best assassins in a society filled with killers, and the Prices, whose scholarship and devotion to the cause helped move the Healys into position. Killing is in our blood. My great-great-grandparents turned their back on the cause, but they couldn’t change who they were, or who their children would grow up to be.
My sister, Verity, met a Covenant operative in New York City, and true to family form, she promptly seduced him, convinced him to abandon his holy calling, and brought him home to meet the parents. Talking to Dominic had just confirmed what we’d believed for years: the Covenant of St. George thought that the Price-Healy bloodline had died out in Buckley, Michigan, but they were more than willing to be proved wrong if the opportunity arose.
And the orders regarding our family weren’t friendly ones.
If Shelby was Covenant, I wasn’t going to have any choice about what I did next. I was going to hate it, possibly forever, but I was going to do it anyway. Family comes first. That’s the one good lesson that we took away from our time with the Covenant. Family always comes first.
Shelby blinked, expression turning quizzical. Then, to my surprise, she burst out laughing. “You—I—you really—oh, Alex.” She raised a hand to wipe her eye, and somehow turned that gesture into a full-body turn, bringing her gun around to aim at my chest. I guess saying the word “Covenant” had rendered Sarah the lesser threat. Bully for me. Face gone suddenly cold again, she demanded, “What do you know about the Covenant? Are you working for them, is that it? A double agent? Because don’t think I won’t shoot you where you stand.”
“Wait—what? One second you’re threatening my cousin for being a cryptid, and the next you’re threatening me because you think I’m with the Covenant? Don’t you think you should make up your mind before you shoot me? And if I were with the Covenant, why the hell would I be asking if you were with the Covenant?” I frowned. “You’re not with the Covenant, are you?”
“Are you mad? I’m from Australia!”
That seemed to answer everything for her. It just raised more questions for me. “What the hell does Australia have to do with anything?”
“The Covenant tried to have the entire continent declared anathema and cleansed, you moron!” Shelby was yelling now. “They’d have wiped out our ecosystem and replaced it with things they considered ‘acceptable’! Idiots. Destructive, shortsighted idiots. I can’t believe you work for them!”
“Oh, no, we don’t work for the Covenant.” Sarah’s tone was light, almost dreamy, like she was working on getting in touch with her inner kindergarten teacher. Shelby and I both whipped around to look at her. Judging by the look on Shelby’s face, she’d almost forgotten Sarah was there. I couldn’t blame her; so had I. Sarah looked down from her study of the ceiling, a beatific smile on her face. “The Covenant broke me like a hammer breaks an egg. That’s why the eggshell is cracked, and we’re putting Humpty together again. They wouldn’t have us if we wanted to go back.”
“Back?” echoed Shelby. She swung back around to me. I realized belatedly that I’d just missed my best chance at disarming her. “What does the Johrlac girl mean, ‘back’?”
